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toiletpudding · 3 months

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HAZBIN HOTEL FANFIC

Adam x Lute ⚠️NSFW⚠️

I did it, I made a thing. 😀

Warnings: sex, a blow job, (light cock and ball torture here, Lute's a biter and Adam's into it,) swearing, Daddy kink, dirty talk, (it's Adam so, I mean, yeah) "What's a clitoris?" -The first man, small drug use mention, both of them are stoned, not much for plot, friends with benefits are what these guys are, Lute gets aroused at the idea of murdering things.

-She was bloodthirsty as fuck in that last episode you guys.

Nothing to do but Fuck, Perform, and Kill:

"-and then the bitch has the nerve to call me a sexist asshole, me! I fuckin' LOVE women, they've got like, a bunch of hot holes to stick your dick into whenever you're bored, and I told her that and she..."

Lute inhaled the smoke from the bong, letting her mind wander as Adam continued to ramble on about his most recent fling. It had hardly been a day on Earth since they had found the body of one of their Exorcists. The idea that a hell spawn could kill one of her kind made her heavenly blood boil. She wanted to find whoever did it and pull their tongue out of their ass. Alas, Adam ordered her to wait, he'd said that in six months they would make sure this kind of thing never happened again. She knew he was right, and that they needed to be careful so that nobody caught on.

But fuuuuuuck was waiting boring. Lute was ready now, she wanted to charge down there and send every demon scurrying like bugs, to feel the excitement that only extermination brought these days. The adrenaline coursing through her golden veins as she pierced her victims' weak little bodies with her spear and listened to their pathetic screams. Just thinking about it made her-

"Hey, Danger Tits." Lute turned, meeting her boss's scrutinizing gaze.

She straightened, clearing her throat, and ignoring the sudden heat in the pit of her belly. "Yes, Sir?"

"Are you listening?"

Lute nodded, "uh- yes sir, she gave you the bill for dinner."

"Yeah! Like, who the fuck do you think you are bitch, I'm fucking Adam. I shouldn't have to pay the bill-"

The extermination was one of the few things they had left for fun. And now not only was somebody trying to fight back, but Lucifer's brat wanted to redeem demons as a form of population control? It was fucking bullshit. Demons only deserved ,eternal damnation and death, and she deserved to have some fucking fun. The only thing they had left to do after building heaven was fucking, performing, and killing, and nobody was going to take even one of those pleasures away from her.

"Well? Are you gonna or not?" Lute blinked, registering that Adam's face was directly in front of hers. Fuck, the weed was making it hard to focus.

"Uuh, er...Y-yes?" She said, uncertain to what she'd just agreed to.

"Sweet." The large cushy sofa they were both sitting on creaked in protest as the huge angel sank back into it. Leaning against the armrest. He propped one foot up onto the cushion, and let the other rest on Lute's knees. He watched her expectantly, a shit eating grin on his face.

Lute stared at him, "What're you doing?"

Adam's smile dropped, "Pfft, is the pot making you stupid or something? You said you'd help me out."

"Help you with...?"

"The blue balls that dumb skank left me with, c'mon! I'm harder than a rock here! Put that thing down and show me a good time, bitch."

Lute gave him an annoyed look.

"You wouldn't have blue balls if you didn't pick one of heaven's residents"

"Well I thought she looked pretty fuckin' chill, how was I supposed to know she'd have a stick up her cunt...You gonna get my dick wet already or what?"

Lute rolled her eyes, oh well, there were worse things Lute could have said yes to, and it's not like she had anything else to do other than wait for extermination day.

Setting the bong aside Lute turned to Adam, who was smiling again.

"That's the spirit babe, now come to Daddy." A shuddering jolt goes through her, and something clenches in her belly.

Wordlessly, Lute crawled on top of the larger angel, straddling him and looking down. He was gazing up at her with the usual cocky smirk on his face, prominent as ever, even without his mask, "Well? You just gonna stare at me all night? I know I'm good looking as fuck, but c'mooon."

She could feel the eagerness underneath his robes pressing up against her, and through the way he was gripping her hips tightly, fingers kneading into her flesh.

Lute leaned down and pressed her lips against his. Adam returned the kiss, already trying to push his tongue into her mouth, and pulling her tightly against him. Lute's breath stuttered as his hands wandered up to her chest, roughly groping her breasts through her clothes.

"Fuckin nice," he mumbled against her lips, fingers finding her nipples through the fabric and tugging on them. Lute let out a small moan, encouraging him to continue.

She reached up, running her hands through the mess of brown tangles he called hair, forcing her fingers through whenever she felt resistance, enjoying the small grunts of pain he let out and how his groping became a little more erratic. Both of them were breathing hard when they broke the kiss.

"Fuck," Adam panted, rolling his erection into her hard enough that he nearly bucked Lute off. She gripped his shoulders to steady herself, pushing back against his rutting hips, enjoying the sensation of his clothed cock pressing into the heat between her legs.

Lute dipped her head, pressing her lips to the indents of his throat, suckling and biting, she clenched down on a particularly sensitive spot and tugged until his breath was hitching and he was squirming underneath her.

She let go after the skin was red and painful looking, pressing sloppy kisses up his neck and jaw, pulling him in again for another heated make-out session when she reached his lips.

The kiss didn't last long this time, before Adam was pulling away and whispering in her ear where else he wanted her mouth to be.

Never one to disobey an order Lute slid downward, positioning herself between his crossed legs. His erection was straining against his clothes now, ready to pop out like a jack in the box.

After an awkward struggle of shifting his robes out of the way, and with only a little help from Adam, Lute was finally able to pull his dick out from its confines. Despite being the self proclaimed "Dick master," his was relatively average, and only a little on the longer side. Nothing for Lute to complain about though.

Her hand was already sticky with cum, as it dribbled out of the tip of his cock in a steady trickle. Geez, he really was pent up.

Adam nudged her closer with his legs, "Come on come on come on! What're you waiting for bitch? It's not like it's gonna suck itsel- oooh, fuuuck yeeeah."

Without warning Lute took him into her mouth down to the base and held it there. Adam gripped the back of her head, clutching handfuls of her hair tight enough to yank a sizable clump right off of her scalp if he wanted to. His legs trembled and his feet scrabbled for purchase, heels digging into Lute's calves. Lute didn't move for a moment longer, seeing the First Man grovel underneath her always turned her on more than it probably should.

When his hips started twitching forward Lute began to slide her tongue up and down his length smoothly, the acrid and salty flavor of him coating her taste buds overwhelmed her senses completely.

Adam spat out a series of curses when Lute began to bob her head quickly, going down as far as she could until his mushroom cap bumped the back of her throat, and sucking hard when she came up to the tip. The brutal pace she set for him doesn't give Adam a chance to steady himself or even to make a snarky comment, he was completely at her mercy.

The fact that the most powerful Exorcist in heaven, who could incinerate her with a single finger gun pointed in her general direction, could barely even form a coherent word had her rubbing her thighs together in an attempt to give just a little bit of the pooling heat between her legs some attention.

"Don't fuckin stop Lute, don't stop," judging by the way he was thrusting his hips against her face and that his voice was high with excitement, Adam was already on the verge of blowing his load. Lute only moved faster and dragged her tongue across him more.

"Fuck, holy shit," Adam gasped, Lute could feel his hands shaking, "I'm gonna-fuck-" she stopped moving her head, letting him take control, and immediately he was cramming his dick into her mouth as much as he could, chasing after his orgasm, moaning with each thrust and-

And right when he was at his peak Lute bit down. His startled, pained scream was probably loud enough to be heard outside of the room.

"Fuckin, aaah, you crazy bitch. I was about to nut-fuck!" He pulled his dick out of her mouth to inspect it. Beneath the glistening spit and pre-cum covering his shaft, bright red bite marks indented his pale skin. When he saw them he began to laugh.

"Not yet," Lute rasped, she cleared her throat, "You're not done yet."

"Fuuuck," he laughed, "I didn't think I could get any harder, ow by the way."

"Serves you right, sir." Adam grinned darkly and pushed her hair out of her face.

"Do it again." Lute leaned forward and took his dick into her mouth again. His breathy sigh turned into a pain choke when her teeth clenched down, body as tense as a harp string. His hand tightened around the back of her skull. All it would take is one hard squeeze and he could easily crush her head into a pulp. The thought has her biting down a little bit harder.

When she let go Adam deflated underneath her, "You wanna get a facial?" He panted, "'Cause this is a great way to get a shiiiiiit!"

Lute clamped down on his cock again, her eyes on his face the whole time. Watching the way it twisted in pain and pleasure. She couldn't decide which she liked seeing more. Adam's lips were kiss-red and his eyes were closed and he looked absolutely exquisite. Albeit, It wasn't enough for Lute to grant him an easy finish. Not by a long shot.

She let go of his dick, and the moan that came out of him was like rock music to her ears. She crawled up on top of Adam once again; giving him an open-mouthed kiss. He kissed her back with less focus than before, like he was halfway out of his body.

Denied-orgasm Adam didn't last long, soon he was kissing Lute viscously, nipping at her lips hard enough to make her grunt in pain. "You know, you're supposed to help me with my blue balls, not make it worse." He grumbled against her lips.

Lute pulled back and looked him in the eye, both of their gazes were alight with desire. Eyes like glowing torches. "I've got something else for that." She made a show of sliding her fingers underneath the hem of her dress and down the front of her skin tight pants, watching him the entire time.

Adam's grin split across his face and he sat up. "Aw, fuck yes!" Somehow Lute ended up underneath him, a difficult feat when even a couch this size could barely fit Adam.

He reached up, tugging the dress's neckline down to get easier access to her tits. He fondled one of them, his other hand diving between their bodies to drag her pants down far enough that she could wiggle her legs out of them before groping at her crotch.

Lute shoved that hand away immediately. Beside math, the next thing Adam knew absolutely nothing about was the anatomy of a woman, and what Lute didn't need was to feel the stretch and burn as he stuffed his fingers inside of her dry.

Lute shoved that hand away immediately. Beside math, the next thing Adam knew absolutely nothing about was the anatomy of a woman, and the last thing Lute needed was to feel the stretch and burn as he stuffed his fingers inside of her dry.

Lute sucked on her index and middle finger briefly, just enough to get them dripping before sliding them underneath her clothes, nudging her undergarments to the side. Her fingers just barely brushed against her folds and already her breath was hitching. She focused on her clit instead, and it didn't take long before she was able to slide her fingers in with no resistance.

Adam grabbed at her chest while she quickly prepped herself, switching between massaging her breasts to pulling her nipples and twisting them until she moaned.

"Fuck, I love your tits, they're so fuckin soft. You like it when Daddy plays with'em like this, huh bitch?" His dirty talk only served to excite her even more, Lute curled her fingers inside and her thighs tensed.

Her breasts didn't hold Adam's attention long before he was pressing his cock forward, the head grinding against the back of her hand. Lute didn't need to be told twice. She withdrew her fingers and wrapped her legs around the other angel's hips as best she could. Adam sank down onto his elbows, and she was enveloped completely in his robes, her vision nothing but white and gold.

Her back arched as his dick prodded against her hole, before sliding up and brushing her clit. He thrusted, but missed again. "Fuckin-" Adam muttered to himself, reaching down to guide himself inside.

Lute's folds parted for his pole. Even after prepping herself the stretch still made her clit beg for reprieve. Lute's head dropped onto the sofa cushion.

" Oh, shit, " she hissed, words barely audible, as he slipped into her depths.

A strangled noise came from Adam's throat when he bottomed out inside of her, shudders racking his body as the sensation enveloped him. "Fuck, you could keep me warm all night like this," Adam breathed, cock twitching deep inside of her.

Lute jerked and moaned as his dick brushed against a spongy euphoric. It didn't take long before he was thrusting his hips, dragging his shaft out until only the tip remained inside and slamming back in in routine fashion. The way his veins felt, bulging along her inner walls was phenomenal.

She rolled her hips into his impatiently, wanting more, harder, faster. It wasn't until his mushroom cap snagged something particularly good that Lute let out an audible yelp.

Oh yeah, babe?" Adam jeered, aiming for that same spot. "Gonna gush on my cock? Bet it feels fuckin' good. I keep telling you my dick's the best."

He grasped the back of the couch to steady himself and began thrusting into her hard enough to rock the furniture and jostle Lute upwards until the top of her skull bumped against the armrest. The hard juts to her cervix had her head spinning. She whined as she brought her digits down to her aching clit, she grasped at one of her breasts with the other, clumsily groping herself.

"Fuck- gonna fuckin cream you," Adam panted, Lute moaned her agreement.

"Yeah?" He breathed into her ear, "You wannna get stuffed with Daddy's cum?"

His words sent a buzz down to her precious bud and twin peaks. His cock was electric and each burst of energy sent pleasure sparking up her spine. She was going to burst.

Spreading over her form like early sunlight, the orgasm caused Lute's eyes to roll back and her entire torso to tingle. Heat raised to her ears like a bad sunburn. "Fuckfuckfuckfuck! I'm- I'm-" she bit her tongue to fight a louder response, gasping as the pleasure consumed her completely.

Adam didn't stop thrusting, cradling the back of her head in one hand, the other still gripping the couch like a lifeline. He was holding her tighter, moving quicker, breath rattling in his chest, he was getting close.

Lute wrapped her arms around him, groping at his shoulders, his back, his ass, anywhere she could get a decent grip. Fuck she was ready for him to, to-

Adam's voice suddenly grew louder and he moaned with each thrust. Lute gasped as his cum painted her walls, filling her up completely.

"Fuck! Takeittakeittakeit, you fucking slut... !"

His moans broke off into heavy sighs and he gradually took more time between each thrust, slowing and slowing until he stopped altogether and collapsed on top of Lute with a throaty groan.

The only sound in the room after that was their shared breaths, they stayed that way for a while, until Lute eventually began to stir from her prone position underneath Adam. She loosened her grip around him; fingers aching from clutching onto his robe so tightly.

Turning her head so she wouldn't be smothered she wriggled until Adam finally huffed and shifted enough so that he wasn't fully on top of her.

"Aaah, that was good," he sighed dreamily.

Lute couldn't disagree, but the fluids caking her inner thighs was beginning to feel uncomfortable. "Was it necessary to finish inside, sir?"

Adam smiled, spoiled and content. "What can I say, I like usin' that hole as a cum dump."

Lute stared at him flatly, but her boss didn't notice, he was already swinging his head around. "Where'd ya put that bong, I'm starting to even out." He shifted and Lute's entire body jolted.

"Sir."

"Aw c'mon, don't tell me you smoked it all,"

"Sir."

"Oh, wait, nah, we're good."

"Adam."

"What?"

"Your dick is still inside."

"...Oh."

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billkaulitzgirlfriend · 1 year

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✮ Pain Of Love ✮

Bill kaulitz x femReader

✮. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ . ✮　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. °☆ .✮

Warnings: drinking, sex, smoking, angst,(I think that's it but let me know if there's anymore)

(I'm so sorry I got carried away and made it way too detailed and for spelling errors)😭

Story summary:you are a member of Tokio Hotel and you've had feelings for your Best friend Bill for years but he hasn't seem to notice and you haven't ever had a boyfriend due to your commitment to the band and frequently moving around but you finally meet a boy one random night and everything changes.

This fic is set in 2008 Y/n in this story is depicted as inexperienced (having only kissed one boy her entire life) and shy, Bill is a little more experienced but not by a lot (only had a girlfriend when he was fourteen)

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★

"Hello pretty girl" you say to the girl you're signing a autograph for she looks at you as if she's about to faint you're at a meet and greet right now with the boys, as you move on to the next fan you look over at Bill you see a girl around your guy's age kissing him on the cheek you can't help but feel envy build up in your body he always flirts with all of his fans and it's driving you crazy after a couple moments you stop staring and focus on the girl in front of you.

You realized you had feelings for Bill when you were about 13 when he got his first girlfriend he was so happy and told you all about her you happily listened to him and told him how glad you were for him but all you could feel was pure hatred for the poor girl he even joked about finding you a boyfriend soon.

You, Bill, Tom, gustav and goerg have been friends for as long as you can remember you all started the band together when you were kids and have a inseparable bond, Bill is your Best friend and Tom is like an older brother too you, gustav knows all you secrets and is the only one aware of you feelings for Bill and goerg is like your little brother you too are always being mean and annoying each other.

After about two hours of talking with fans and answering questions you guys where finally done it's especially hard for you doing meet and greets because the fans either hate you or love you being the only girl in the band girls feel as if you're there competition but some girls see you as just another heart throb in the group you especially love those girls seeing them get all flustered makes you smile.

You all get on the bus and sit down, you're sitting in between Bill and Gustav, Goerg and Tom are sitting across from you you rest your head on Bill's shoulder and he puts his head on yours, you smile too yourself "so what are we going to eat?" Tom asks, you all sit in silence thinking to yourselves "uh what about pasta?" You say the boys look at each other and nod their heads in agreement "pasta it is then" Bill says

You guys arrive at a fancy looking restaurant as soon as you walk in you guys get nothing but nasty looks sometimes you wish you didn't stick out like a sore thumb but you wouldn't change it for the world, as you guys get seated you notice a cute guy staring you down you smile at him and he winks at you, you quickly look away feeling embarrassed by the interaction when you sit down the boys notice your weird antics "is there something wrong Y/n?" Gustav asks "no it's nothing sorry" you say

After everyone orders their food you excuse yourself to the bathroom you see other people waiting so you sit down and wait as well but then you realize the person sitting next to you was the guy from when you first walked in you tense up once you realize he turns to you turning a shade of pink once he realizes " uhh hi what's your name?" He asks " it's Y/n um what's yours?" "Noah" he answers quickly " so those guys your sitting with is one of them your boyfriend?" "I wish" you think to yourself "No there my friends I don't have a boyfriend" "really? you don't that's surprising" "how is that surprising?" "Because you’re gorgeous" you can't help but smile at his words.

"where the hell is Y/n? the food is already here and she's been gone forever" Bill say with confused tone "I'll be back I'm going to go find her" he gets up from the table and walks towards the bathroom he sees you and is relieved as he walks closer he realizes your talking to someone " what is she doing" he thinks to himself , he sees Noah and you laughing and talking about something and gets annoyed for the reasoning of you being gone so long "Y/n what are you doing come on" he says graving you by the hand and pulling you away while glaring at the boy "sorry I have to go" you say as Bill drags you back to the table

"Bill what the fuck is your problem I was having conversation" you say as you sit down "what's my problem!? Who was the random guy you were talking to for so long?" "His name is Noah and he asked me on a date" " A date you cant be serious? you just met him" He says with disbelief in his voice "why does that matter Tom literally fucks girls he's know for twenty minutes and plus I'm an adult and can make my own decisions" "That's because Tom's a hure!" "Hey leave me out of this and Bill shes right she's not a kid she can choose what she wants to on her own it's not like you're her boyfriend" Tom says Georg and Gustav exchange knowing looks at each other "Gut, mach was du willst" (fine do what you want) Bill says in a upset voice now you know he's angry but that's not your problem he's the one who got overly upset over nothing

The ride to the place you guys were staying at was completely silent no longer sitting next to Bill instead sitting next to Tom and Georg I watch as Bill opens his pack of cigarettes and lights one you usually share one but you watch as he finishes it by himself the air is thick with tension as you Arive at the house Bill is the first one off the bus and into the house "what the hell why is he acting like that?" I say to Georg "I don't know maybe he had a bad time at the meet and greet" he says "that can't be it he was fine when we were on the bus" "maybe he's just being protective I'm pretty sure this is the first time you've talked about a guy before" "that is true your probably right I'll talk about it with him tomorrow" "yeah you should do that,well good night see you tomorrow" "Good night Georg" you say while walking to you room

When you get to your room you strip yourself of you clothes and get in the shower you think about the argument you had with Bill you have never fought with him like that before of course you two bicker but never like that and you've never gone to bed mad at each other when you get out the shower you check your phone and see there's a message from a unknown number

Unknown:hey is Noah from earlier I was just checking in with you left so abruptly

"Oh right I gave him my number"

You:hey and sorry about that my friend was just worried about me

Noah: yeah no worries, so how about that date I asked you about?

"Should I even go I made Bill really upset just talking about it imagine if I actually went through with it you know what no I'm going on that date it's not like I'm dating Bill he can't keep me from having romantic interest" you thought to yourself

You: yeah I would love to I'm free tomorrow night

Noah:Great I'll see you then

Bills P.O.V

"Is Y/n actually serious about going on a date with that guy she just met what if he is a weirdo and he isn't even that cute" I think to myself but then there's a knock at my door when I open I see Tom "what" I say as he lets himself in "what was that with Y/n earlier?" "She literally just started talking to a complete stranger and is already taking about going on a date with him already" "that's how dating works Bill you can't expect her to stay single forever" we sit in silence for a while before Tom speaks again "I see how you look at her" "nicht schon wieder dieser Scheiß! I already told you Tom I'm not in love with Y/n and it's not like if I was she would feel the same I'm obviously not her type look who she trying to go on a date with" "okay Bill but just remember if your not going be with her someone else is, Sie hat es verdient glücklich zu sein" as he leaves I think about his words I know the truth about my feelings but it just wouldn't work out between us she's my best friend and I know her better than than I know myself she doesn't see me how I see her, I need to go and apologize to her.

Y/ns P.O.V

After texting Noah and getting ready for bed you sit in your bed trying to sleep but you can't stop thinking about your argument with Bill suddenly you hear a knock on your door "it's already 1am why is someone knocking this late" you think as you get up to answer it as you open it the tall boy stares down at you"oh hi Bill" you say as open your door wider letting him in you close the door behind you and sit on your bed and he does the same you sit for awhile without saying anything "I'm sorry Bill I didn't-" you start but Bill cuts you off "Y/ n you have nothing to apologize for this is all my fault I shouldn't have reacted that it's just you've never showed any interest in a guy before and it freaked me out your my best friend and I just want you to be happy Ich liebe dich" "Ich liebe dich auch Bill, thank you for telling that i was so confused why you were upset with me, let's stop being mad okay?" " Yeah okay, so when do you think you'll be going on that date?" Bill asks enthusiastically "tomorrow night, this will be my actual first date" you say excitedly Bill smiles at you Sweetly and hugs you "that's great Y/n I'm so happy for you, well we should probably get some sleep we have a lot to do tomorrow, good night" he gets up to leave but you grab his hand before he can leave "do you want to sleep with me tonight?" He smiles "you know I can't say no to that" he says while climbing back into the bed with you he holds you in his arms you spend many nights like this holding on to each other and talking for hours as you drift into sleep "Good night Bill" "Good night Y/n" he says and kisses the top of your head

You wake up the next morning in Bill's arms he's still asleep you wish that you could stay like this forever suddenly you hear Gustav yell outside of your door "Y/N GET UP WE HAVE TO LEAVE IN THREE HOURS" Bill is woken up by the noise he hugs you tightly and buries his head In your chest "Ich will nicht aufstehen" (I don't want to get to get up) he says in a groggy voice "well you definitely can't sleep any longer it takes you the longest to get ready" "ugh fine" he says as he kisses your forehead as he gets up you both leave your room at the same time Tom and Georg watch as you both walk out and look at each other looking relieved that you too made up so quickly "Was für ein schöner Morgen!" Gustav says happily "Guten Morgen Gustav!" You all say back to him

Suddenly your phone goes off it's Noah you answer it "hello?" You say "hey Y/n I was just checking to make sure we're still on for tonight?" "Uh yeah I'm still up for it" " okay I'll pick you around seven okay?" "Yeah Sure I'll see you then bye" The boys look at you as you hang up you awkwardly smile and leave to get ready for the concert

The concert went according to plan and you even had extra time so you guys performed one extra song afterwards you only had a couple of fans to meet since it was a more intimate concert this time luckily on our way back to the house every one was back to their normal selves we talked about a girl we meet that couldn't stop crying when she met us when you guys got to the house you were the first one inside quickly running to the shower to getting ready you were quite nervous since you've never been out with with a boy before after you get ready you walk out your room to ask the boys if they thought your outfit was good

When they saw you they were silent for a while worrying you quite a bit "is it bad should I go change?" You said with fear in your voice "no you look beautiful Y/n." Bill says "really are you sure?" "Yeah no you look amazing Y/n" Tom confirms, Bill can see the nervousness on your face "don't worry it's going to go great don't be nervous" he smiles " thanks Bill" suddenly your phone rings "hello, oh ok I'll be out in a sec" "he's here I'll be back later you guys bye" you say as you walk out the door

As you sit down in the passenger seat you say hi "hi Y/n" "so where are we going" "you'll see once we get there" "oh okay" you guys sit in an awkward silence for a while you want to try and talk to him but you wouldn't know where to start maybe Bill was right I shouldn't have gone on a date with someone you don't know your troubled thoughts come to a halt once you Arive at a restaurant it looks amazing maybe you were just thinking to hard about this it's probably going to go well.

Once you're seated you start trying to get to know him "so do you go to work or are you still in school?' you ask "well I work with my dad at his real estate company" "oh that' s really good do you enjoy it?" " Yeah it's okay I guess, so what about you?" "Oh right Im in a band" "That's your job?" He snickers "um yeah..." " Oh your serious you know what that makes sense I was wondering why you and your friends dressed so weirdly, so is that like financially stable for you?" "yeah it is." You've started to get irritable at his rude responses after what feels like forever you both finally finish your meals and leave once in the car he talks again "so did you like it?" "Um yeah I did" you lie " I forgot to tell you how good you look" "I thought you said I looked weird” you think he starts to get closer to you and puts his hand on your thigh and says "can I kiss you?" "Um sure" you say maybe this will save the date you think he leans in closer to and your lips connect his lips are chapped and he's too rough it feels unnatural and forced but he doesn't seem to think so as he sneaks his hand father up your thigh you quickly push him away " I don't this is going to work out" you say sounding apologetic "oh ok do you want me to take you home?" "Yes please" the rest of the car ride you stay silent when you arrive at the house you say "thank you for the dinner and I'm sorry everything didn't work out" "no it's okay this isn't my first rodeo" you laugh awkwardly and get out.

When you get in the house you see Bill watching TV he looks at you with a confused face it's only nine and he expected you much later than that "what are you doing here it's only nine Y/n?" "Billlllll" you say exaggerating his name and throwing yourself at the coach next to him " did it go bad?" He asks sincerely, you look up at him and nod "do you want to tell me about it?" "Yeah" you tell him all the details of the date "then when we got back in his car he kissed me and it was horrible" he looks surprised when you tell him that "and I wasted this super cute outfit for nothing" you frown "well to be honest it is only nine we can go out and the pretty outfit won't go to waste" "really?" you ask he happily nods "come on what are we waiting for let's leave then!" He laughs at your eagerness

When you guys get to the club you immediately drag Bill to the bar you both start taking shots then go to dance with each other for awhile holding on to one another and laughing every time you step on each other’s toes while trying to Dance you go back once more for drinks “oh do you remember that one time that girl tried to get you to fuck her then she ended up throwing up all over your shoes” you both laugh “oh don’t remind me those shoes were one of my favorites too” “thank you bill for taking me out I feel so much better” “of course Y/n I didn’t want to see your night be completely ruined”

you can’t help but stare at him with the cheesiest smile and he does the same getting lost in each other’s gazes most likely due to the alcohol in your systems you start getting flustered by the eye contact bill smirks at you “you’re getting all red Schätzchen” you hate and love when he acts like this “Bill don’t be that way” you say in a soft voice “what way?” He’s says while grabbing your hips and pulling you closer “Bill what are you-“you get cut off by Bills lips crashing into yours you immediately melt into that kiss Bill quickly pulls away after realizing what he did “Y/n Im so sorry I don’t know what I was thinking” “Bill just be quiet”you say as you pull him back down to kiss you again you two quickly find a rhythm he tastes so sweet it’s like you were meant to do this together “do you want to go to the house now?” “yes I really do” he says with desperation

When you get to the house you barely make it to his room he pins you against his bedroom door and kisses you deeply he finally opens his door and quickly brings you in and locks the door behind him “Scheiße Y/n you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this” he says as he feels your body up and down with his slender hands, having him touch you like this makes all those years of waiting worth it he kisses you again slowly making his way down your neck you want to tell him to stop what if he leaves a mark what will people think? But it feels too good he pushes you on his bed getting on top of you kissing your jaw he looks at you with lust in his eyes

“are you sure you’re okay with this” he gently asks you nod your head yes “no I need you to say it for me Schätzchen” “please bill I want this so bad” “dann gebe ich es dir”(then I’ll give it to you) he says as starts to slowly Peel you out of your clothes you leaving you in your bra and underwear you instinctively cover yourself but he quickly pull’s your hands away from your body “you’re r so gorgeous Y/n” he says, he begins to take of his shirt and you unbutton his pants once you you do you reluctantly palm him though his boxers he can’t help but groan your eyes widen once you feel his length he’s huge, you look up at him he turns his head away from you feeling embarrassed you go to kiss him his embarrassment quickly leaves and he begins to unclip your bra he stares at your chest for a couple moments then begins to massage one of your breasts with his hand and places his mouth on the other this causes you to moan loudly “shh baby you don’t want the other boys to here you do you?” You shake your head no he starts to kiss down your body stoping once he got between your legs he smirks when he notices a wet spot on your panties “Scheiße, baby did I do this to you?” “Fuck Bill” you say “that wasn’t an answer Schätzchen” he says while beginning to rub over your underwear you buck you hips trying to get more friction but he quickly pulls away “Ja, Bill, du hast mir das angetan” (yes bill you did this to me) you say desperately as soon as you say that he pulls your panties off swiftly and licks a long stripe on your pussy “Scheiße B-bill” you moan loudly you can feel him smirk to himself due to your reaction he continues to eat you out he feels like he was made to do this he’s been waiting for years to share a moment like this with you so he wants to make it rememberable you start to feel yourself become undone “fuck you taste so good” his words push you over the edge you came with him still attached to your clit he came up to kiss you once again you could tases yourself on his tongue you couldn’t help but notice the tent In his boxers you slowly pull down his cock springs out his pink tip oozing with precum you start to stroke it up and down focusing on the tip you change positions and get on your knees as he sits on the bed you begin to lick his cock getting it wet you put the tip in your mouth first sucking on it softly “ahh baby that feels so good” he throws his head back he softly guides your head with his hand to make you go faster but soon he pulls you off “Y/n is it alright if I cum somewhere else?” You immediately know what he’s referring you slowly nod getting up from your knees and getting into the bed he kisses you sweetly as he lines up his cock with your wet hole “Scheisse” he says with a breathy voice as he enters you your fingers tips harshly hold onto his back “Du bist so eng”(your so tight) he says with his mouth agape you feel so full he waits a moment be before moving he starts off slowly letting you get used to the feeling he feels so good “B-bill S-scheisse right there don’t stop” you moan loudly you say as he hits your sweet spot “fuck Y/n I’m so close” he says as his movements get faster “mhh-m Bill” you say as you release around him his strokes become sloppy and slower as he cums in you you’re pretty sure it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt he kisses you once more before he lays beside you and holds you in his arms

After cuddling with each other for a while bill talks “come on Schätzchen let’s get cleaned up” he say getting up and walking to his bathroom you hear him turn on the faucet and you get up after him you see him running a bubble bath “get in” he tells you so you do he follows behind you he begins to wash your body your mind can’t help but race about what happened moments before what does this mean for the two of you now? your thoughts come to a halt once he reaches between your legs cleaning between them you wine still being sensitive once he’s done he holds you close to him “Bill” You say his name “Yes Y/n” he asks “I know it’s probably a bad time to ask. What does this mean for us now?” You take a deep breath preparing for his words “Y/n I want to be honest with you I’ve had feelings for you ever since we were kids and those feelings have never stopped” you feel happiness fill your heart as you hear his words “I see as more than my best friend Y/n your my whole heart” he continues “I feel the same way bill” you say “you know that was my first time doing something like that” “I know Y/n you’ve told me a thousand times before about how bad you wanted to lose your virginity” “im glad it was with you” you say quietly “me too” he says kissing the top of your head

The next morning you wake up in Bills grasp again you stare at him admiring him and counting all the moles you see on his body he begins to wake up “good morning”you say “guten morgen, meine Liebe” (good morning my love) he says after staying in each others embrace for a while you both get up and leave his room every one else was already up per usual they stare at you both Gustav finally breaks the silence “ I hope you two had fun last night” both you and bill turn red “uh what do you mean?” you ask in a nervous voice “well to start we could hear you guys” Tom states in a annoyed tone “and” Georg starts while turning the tv its the celebrity gossip channel and dead center of the tv is a video of you and bill making out last night at the bar “that” “oh no what are we going to do” you say freaking out “don’t worry we’ll just tell everyone we’re dating” Bill quickly calms you down you’re surprised by his answer But you nod your head agreeing with hi ”FINALLY” the boys say you and bill both laugh at their response.

(That’s the end thank you so much for reading, it got kinda overly long and I wasn’t completely sure how to end it so this was the best I could do I really wanted to post this before the weekend ended but once again thank you if you made it to the end) ♡

#bill kaulitz #tom kaulitz #tokio hotel #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz smut #smut #x reader #y/n story #tokio hotel smut #tokio hotel x reader #kaulitz twins #gustav schäfer #georg listing

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from-memphis-with-love · 1 month

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Songbird - Ch. 1 - The Handsome Stranger

Summary: The year is 1969. The place is the International Hotel. Valerie Pedretti, an aspiring singer, has a chance encounter with one Elvis Presley in an elevator that will change her life forever. Notes: To me, 1967-1971 EP is kind of peak Elvis, and so I wanted to write a fic with him smack dab in that time period. In the 1969-1970 period, especially, Elvis was probably the most handsome and alluring man in the galaxy. Lots of anachronisms and historical inaccuracies in this one, but just roll with it because it's fun! I based Valerie, in a sense, off of a mixture of Kathy Westmoreland, Joyce Bova, and Linda Thompson. Kathy met the real Elvis for the first time in an elevator, and that really inspired this work. Priscilla exists in this universe but she and Elvis get a divorce far earlier than in real life. Theirs, in some ways like real life, is a marriage of convenience and an "arrangement." Lisa Marie does not exist in this universe.

Las Vegas, Nevada, 1969

Vegas was shimmering mirage of bad decisions just waiting to snare me—a sucker-punch I never saw coming. The lights, the noise, the impossible promise of it all crashed over me in kaleidoscopic waves as my cab cruised down the strip towards the International Hotel. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, watching slack-jawed as sequined showgirls and vacationers blurred by in streaks of neon and rhinestone.

The cabbie swerved to the curb with a jolt, snapping me out of my daze. "International Hotel," he barked, his voice an ice bath to my face. I shoved a crumbled wad of bills into his hand and stumbled out and into a swarm of hairspray and cigar smoke congregating under the hotel's blazing marquee. Blinking in confusion, I took in the frenzied scene unfolding—beefy security shoving their way through the sea of pompadours, vendors hawking glossy headshots, teddy bears and "I 🖤 ELVIS" pins. The realization hit me like a freight train. This wasn't just any weekend at the International. It was the kickoff of Elvis Presley's residency. Ground zero for absolute Elvis mania.

The irritation set in, simmering beneath my skin. "Shit," I muttered, suddenly feeling foolish for forgetting. Of all the rotten luck. Out of all the times to visit Las Vegas, I had unwittingly chosen the kickoff of Elvis's shows—an event drawing crowds I had no desire to mingle with.

I wove through the throng, lugging my cumbersome suitcases behind me. Inside the lobby was even more chaotic—a swirling kaleidoscope of big-haired fans and cigarette smoke lingering over shag carpet. Elvis was everywhere, his angelic face beaming down from posters, gold records, life-sized cardboard cutouts. A veritable religious shrine. Groaning internally, I caught my bedraggled reflection in a mirrored column. Of course I would show up to the Presley Promised Land looking like something the cat dragged in. Normally I'd at least try to pull myself together for check-in, maybe swipe on some lipstick or fluff my chocolate curls into place. After all, I didn't want to look terrible in front of people dressed to the nines. But after the day I'd had, I couldn't muster the effort.

My flight from Chicago had been delayed six excruciating hours due to "mechanical issues," which apparently was airline-speak for "sit tight while we screw you over." By the time we finally took off, I'd already stress-eaten two sleeves of Oreos and read the in-flight magazine three mind-numbing times. To top it off, I'd spilled coffee all over my only nice blouse right before landing. Clearly, some divine power had it out for me today.

Feeling sweaty and vaguely nauseous, I trudged to the front desk. The angular blonde behind the counter, Brenda, barely glanced up from her well-thumbed issue of Variety as I approached.

"Welcome to the International Hotel. Checking in?" She smacked her gum, eyes never leaving her magazine.

"Yes, uh, reservation should be under Deena Lovelace."

That finally got her attention. Her penciled brows shot up as she inspected me, taking in the coffee stains and rumpled slacks. "Wait, you're Deena? The Deena who told me she booked for the Sinatra audition tomorrow?" The doubt was palpable.

I gritted my teeth into a tight smile. "No, actually. I'm her friend Valerie. Deena got sick at the last minute, some kind of exotic flu, so I'm filling in for her."

Suspicion clouded Brenda's face, but after a long beat she shrugged. "Huh. Well, takes all kinds, I guess." She signaled to a bellhop in a red monkey suit and thrust a key into my hand. "Room 2806, elevators are that way. If you need anything, ask for Hector."

Hector the bellhop scurried over and hoisted up my bags with surprising ease for such a slight guy. I made a weak attempt to protest, but he just grinned and ushered me through the cacophonous lobby to the first hallway. The doors slid open and I thanked him, pressing a few crumpled bills into his white-gloved hand.

“I can take it from here, Hector.”

As I walked along, I looked at my reflection in the mirrored wall and exhaled slowly. My nerves buzzed like an exposed wire as I thought about tomorrow's audition. Landing a spot in the Sinatra chorus line seemed about as likely as shooting the moon at this point. I barely knew the song Deena had been rehearsing for weeks, my go-go boots had a broken heel, and my voice was ragged from practicing the whole weekend.

But damn it, this was the first real shot I'd had in ages to claw my way out of the chambermaid grind and actually make something of myself. To prove Ma right for always saying I had stardust in my veins, even when it landed me more trouble than applause growing up. I had to at least try. For all those thankless nights warbling in dim lounges, waiting for my big break. For Deena, who I knew would kill for this chance.

I'd barely begun my little pep talk when someone brushed by me, sloshing their vodka tonic onto my sleeve and snapping me back to the present moment. I weaved through the crowd towards another inner hallway, clearing my throat.

I turned on my heel and started hoofing it towards my room. The hotel's layout was an absolute dizzying mess of twists and turns in every direction. My thudding, ungainly footsteps were muffled by the shag carpet and the dulled roar of fans congregating throughout the hotel.

As I trudged on, the ambiance shifted gradually. The hum of voices faded away, replaced by an overwhelming silence that signaled I was getting farther away from the bustling core. Exhaustion tugged at my bones while I navigated the maze of hallways. My room was somewhere in this labyrinth, but my bed felt worlds away at this point.

My steps sank into the plush carpet as I drifted into a quieter, dimly-lit corridor that seemed less traveled. Finally, I found myself alone in front of a bank of elevator doors. I stabbed the call button and waited impatiently, my arms aching from the weight of my overstuffed suitcases. God, why did I pack so much useless junk?

"Must be close now," I muttered out loud, my voice barely audible.

With barely a thought, I slipped out of my heels and bent my toes backwards and forwards, allowing my sore feet to relish the heavenly softness underfoot. It was soft, springy, and absolute relief for my aching soles. Automatically, I began humming a familiar, nameless tune under my breath - just a few sweet, absentminded notes I always turned to for comfort when I needed it. The thought of finally washing this endless day off my face and jumping into a crisp hotel bed was the only thing on my mind as the gilded doors opened with a tinny ding.

The cab was empty. Relieved to finally have a moment to myself, I dragged my heavy bags inside and slumped against the mirrored wall. As the doors started to slide closed, a large, ring-adorned hand suddenly shot out, halting them.

I straightened up with a jolt, my exhaustion replaced by a flash of irritation. Great, just what I needed, another overzealous Elvis fan trying to cram into my personal space bubble.

But as the interloper stepped into the elevator, my breath caught in my throat. Standing before me, in all his smoldering, technicolor glory, was the man himself. Elvis fucking Presley. The aura he gave off was undeniable, that much was sure. And I recognized his face immediately, the same one splashed all over the posters and knick knacks in the lobby. There he was, outshining the garishly glitzy elevator cab like a supernova eclipsing neon. And next to him, a well-built redheaded man, his hand resting at something shiny on his hip. Bodyguard, most likely. Quickly, I shoved my feet back into my heels, silently cursing myself for having taken them off in the first place.

I blinked hard, convinced I must be hallucinating from sheer fatigue. But no, he was unquestionably real, from the polished black shoes to the perfectly coiffed onyx hair that shone like quicksilver in the light. His lean, powerful frame was draped in an immaculately tailored black suit, a shock of pink peeking out from the silk scarf knotted at his throat. But it was the penetrating, electric blue gaze behind tinted shades that truly unraveled me.

I'd never considered myself much of an Elvis fan. Sure, I could appreciate a catchy tune like "Don't Be Cruel" or "Teddy Bear," but I'd always been immune to the mass hysteria he incited in his besotted admirers. Yet here, in such close proximity to his cosmic charisma and undeniable sex appeal, I finally understood. This man was a force of nature.

The redhead caught my awestruck stare and chuckled knowingly. "I see you've met my friend Jon Burrows here," he said with a wink.

But this was no "Jon Burrows." I knew who it was, plain as day. And his affect on me was immediate. Was I dreaming? My pulse started racing. Should I say something? And just how the hell did this happen? I opened my mouth, then closed it, swallowing hard. Play it cool, Valerie.

Any lingering self-consciousness about my frazzled appearance just evaporated in the sheer force of his presence. Though judging by the unmistakably mischievous curl of his lip, my travel-battered state didn't seem to faze him one bit. His perceptive eyes met mine, always accustomed to the spotlight but now studying me with curiosity. He took in my slumped posture and visible fatigue without a hint of judgment.

"You've had yourself a long day, haven't you, honey?" That voice, richer than a Mississippi smokehouse, sliced right through me.

I could only nod dumbly, a lump forming in my throat. "I—uh, yeah. No. I mean... yes, you could say that," I stammered like an idiot. Get it together!

His smile was pure bewitchment. "Well, you'll be tucked in in no time, I reckon. I hear the beds are mighty comfortable here."

I looked up at the ceiling in silence, tracing the swirling pattern with my mind's eye and trying to give off a vibe of cool indifference. But my stomach was actually rolling.

To my surprise, he kept talking. "Pardon my manners. My name's Elvis, and this is my pal Red. Who might you be?"

My throat locked tighter than a cowboy's bullwhip. "Valer—?"

"Valerie." He drew the name out, savoring each note and curve as if testing its ring. Each single syllable seemed to undergo some mystical transformation, alchemized to pure liquid amber from his lips. "A pretty name for a pretty little songbird." A ringed hand discreetly adjusted the bejeweled cups shielding his gaze, maybe hoping to make out my sides better.

Elvis was still steadily playing the blue suede shoes off me, from his elegant bent stance to the teasing half-smirk barely shadowing those indolently hungover features—the whole routine daring me to go chasing his bait. But I was far too busy trying not to spontaneously combust. I screwed my eyes tightly shut for a half-moment, desperately grasping to regain some sense of composure with an oxygen-deprived brain.

How did he know...?

Dumb question, Sherlock. The very notion conjured images of me, sweat-glazed and punchy-tired, mindlessly vocalizing sweet lullabies straight from my Off-Off-Broadway chambermaid days while I waited for the elevator. Of course he would've overhead that.

I cinched my mouth into what I hoped was a blasé half-smile, refusing to come completely uncorked by his pet name. I replayed the embarrassing moment in my head, wishing I could dissolve into the elevator shaft. Every breath I pulled in seemed to crackle with electricity. First I randomly share an elevator with The Elvis Presley, and now he'd overheard my nervous vocalizing and was complimenting me on it?

"Baby." A rich, salt-cured chuckle melted off his tongue, resining deep in my nerve center. "I got ears like a well-tuned radar dish. You in town for a show?"

I shook my head slowly. "Technically yes, but no. Just an audition," I replied, my heart thundering in my ears. I hoped he couldn't hear it pounding.

"Who for, if you don't mind me asking?" he inquired with that laser gaze.

I sucked in a steadying breath. Might as well take the bait since I'd already been barb-hooked but good. "I'm here for an audition, actually. Tomorrow. For Sinatra. I'm a singer. I mean, not like you, but hopefully one day..." I paused, unsure of how much backstory was worth burdening Elvis with. "Just got a last minute sub-in for a friend who's under the weather."

Something flickered across Elvis' handsome features before the mask of idle curiosity slid back into place. "Is that right?" His gaze raked over me again, slower this time, more deliberate. "And what will you be singing for Ol' Blue Eyes?"

Shit. Why was he asking me so many questions? My palms started to sweat as I racked my brain for a suitable answer. It wasn't like I could admit that I barely knew the material, that I was flying by the seat of my pants on a far-fetched favor for a friend. So I settled for a half-truth instead.

"Oh, you know. Just a little medley of standards. 'To Keep My Love Alive,' 'I Can Cook, Too,' that kind of thing."

Elvis nodded slowly, a shadow of a smirk still playing on his lips. "A classic set list. I'm sure you'll knock 'em dead, honey."

I started to stammer out a thanks, but Elvis was already moving past me towards the door as the elevator finally shuddered to a stop. He paused, throwing a glance back over his shoulder. There was a new intensity in his eyes when they met mine, a dark promise that made my toes curl involuntarily in my heels.

"I'll be rooting for you, songbird. Break a leg."

And with that, he was gone, leaving me weak-kneed and dizzy in a cloud of his smoky-spicy cologne. I sagged against the wall, trying to collect myself. What in the ever-loving hell had just happened? Had I honestly just been shamelessly eye-fucked by Elvis Presley in an elevator?

More importantly, why had I liked it so much?

I shook my head, trying to dislodge the treacherous thoughts as I finally stumbled out into the harshly lit hallway. It was late, I was tired, and I had an audition to rest up for. The last thing I needed was to dwell on smoldering looks from a celebrity Casanova that I had no business panting over in the first place.

But even as I went through the motions of unlocking my room and sinking face-first into the marshmallowy duvet, I couldn't stop my mind from wandering back to the electric encounter in the elevator. The way Elvis had stared at me, equal parts scorching and inscrutable, as if he was trying to crack some tantalizing code. There was no way I could have imagined that. The effortless command he'd exuded, the sheer magnetism rolling off of him in waves. How ridiculously, unexpectedly good he still looked, hips swiveling in slow-motion in my mind's eye...

I punched a pillow in frustration, annoyed with my traitorous libido. This was so far beyond the scope of anything I'd anticipated when I'd agreed to sub in for Deena's audition. But one thing was certain—my time in Vegas was shaping up to be a hell of a lot more interesting than I'd bargained for. And something told me that a chance run-in on a hotel elevator was only the beginning.

#elvis presley #elvis #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis fic #elvis x oc #elvis presley fic #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #songbird #elvis fans

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kaguraaaa · 23 days

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Bewitched

Lucifer x Witch!Reader

PART 1, PART 2

cw: violence, gore, use of y/n

note: if you haven't read part 1, y/n is mute since her mouth is stitched shut.

In the midst of the bustling crowd, Lucifer, on an errand for his daughter Charlie, the owner of Hazbin Hotel, scanned the flower shop and spotted a familiar figure—y/n Hecate.

Approaching her with a smirk, he initiated a conversation, "Fancy meeting you here again, y/n. Seems like fate has a sense of humor."

Y/n, unruffled, returned the flirtation with ease, "Perhaps it does, Lucifer. Or maybe it's just your impeccable timing."

Lucifer, slightly taken aback by her confidence, grinned, "Well, I must say, your presence makes even flower shopping exciting. Speaking of flowers, what are your favorites?"

Y/n, walking alongside him, replied, "Marigolds hold a special place in my heart. Their vibrant colors and symbolism resonate with me."

As they browsed the blooms, Lucifer sighed, admitting, "I'm not exactly skilled at this flower-picking business."

Y/n grins softly, "No worries, Lucifer. I'll lend you a hand."

With y/n's guidance, they selected flowers embodying purity, rebirth, sacrifice, and strength. Amidst their banter, Lucifer couldn't resist a playful tease, "You know, y/n, you're making it quite difficult to focus on flowers with your charming distractions."

Y/n smirked, "Oh, but isn't that part of the fun, Lucifer? Keeping you on your toes."

Before they could reach the registrar, Lucifer seized an iris flower, adorning y/n's ear with a swift gesture. Her smile widened, and their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them.

At the counter, Lucifer couldn't help but inquire about y/n's sudden appearance. Her casual reply, coupled with her fondness for flowers, intrigued him further.

After settling the bill, Lucifer expressed his gratitude once more, offering to escort y/n back to the hotel. Politely declining, y/n opted to linger at the shop a while longer.

As Lucifer departed, casting a parting glance filled with warmth, y/n smiled and closed the door of the shop, locking it securely, before turning the open sign into closed. Upon turning back, she found the owner once again in the staff room.

With deliberate steps, her heels clicking on the pavement, she approached, her presence ominous.

A knock, a door opening, and the owner was sent reeling by a sudden force. Gasping for air, terror etched on their face, they looked up to find y/n smiling at them, a chilling glint in her eyes.

Before the owner could utter a sound, their jaw was ripped away, blood staining the floor. The light bulb shattered, plunging the room into darkness, save for the gleam of y/n's golden eyes.

Struggling to scream amidst the blood, the owner choked, their desperate attempts drowned out by a faint laughter echoing in the room which left the owner terrified and confused. Y/n advanced, seizing their hair, forcing them to meet her gaze as her eyes turned blood red.

In the shop, all but the black dahlias wilted, a sinister aura enveloping the space. Y/n, surrounded by the carnage, stood amidst splattered blood, walls adorned with gore, the owner's mutilated form a testament to her cruelty.

With a sadistic smile, she exited the staff room, leaving behind a trail of purple smoke that filled the store, obscuring the horrors within. As she stepped out, a smile playing on her lips, she glanced back, snapping her fingers to dispel the smoke, leaving only an empty, eerie silence behind.

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specterllaw · 9 months

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F@cking the boss - Harvey Specter x Reader Part 1/2

Summary: After being interviewed for a job offer that was meant for your roommate you meet a fascinating boss who sees right through all of your lies

You sighed as you approached your apartment door, it was painted a dull faded orange that now looked like someone had been smoking in the halls for years, you sorted through the stack of mail you grabbed on your way into the building. All of it was bills or advertisements until you got to a thin envelope, it was addressed to your roommate but it came from a big law firm in Upstate Manhattan. Pearson and Hardman, you had seen their commercials way too many times. Curious you ripped opened the paper envelope, flipping open the folded paper inside seeing an invitation to interview as a new assistant for one of their senior associates. You smirked a bit walking inside as you shut your apartment door and plopped down on the couch, grabbing your bowl of weed from the table smoking it gone before going to your room to find clothes for the interview. See normally you’d never open your roommates mail, but recently she had taken it open herself to open her legs to your boyfriend and get you fired from your shared job, so you felt like you deserved this.

Monday morning

You gulped nervous pushing open the hotel door and walking farther into the conference rooms trying to figure out where the hell this meeting was being held, until you saw the giant sign, ‘PEARSON AND HARDMAN LAW FIRM INTERVIEW NEXT DOOR ON THE RIGHT’. You took a deep breath hoping for it to give you some confidence as you walked through the door looking at all of the other females who were waiting, they all matched the type of your roommate, blonde hair, big boobs, and mini skirts. You felt like you were dressed too professional as you walked up to the desk “excuse me?..is this the interviews for the law firm?” You asked politely to the woman sitting at the desk “yes, yes it is, go down that hallway to the left and you’ll meet with Mr. Specter” she said pointing down a short hallway. You felt like the ground was shaking under your feet as you made your way to the makeshift office that had a well dressed man sitting behind the desk looking at you with raised eyebrows. “Who are you?” He asked tilting his head up towards you like he was better than you in a sense. "My name is Y/n L/n, I'm here for the..assistant position?" You offered as you took a seat in front of him, he watched you closely "Everybody is, darling, what makes you so special?" He asked crossing his arms "I'm determined in my work, I have no boyfriend, no kids, and I'm looking for a good job to get my foot in the door to becoming the best lawyer in New York" You said stubbornly eyeing him in the same manner he was to you, you knew what he was doing, intimidation. "...okay" He said unsure "What do you have experience with?"

Next Monday

You were in complete shock, you were on your way to walk to the law firm when a car had stopped in front of your path, you stopped getting your pepper spray out and ready before the window rolled down revealing Harvey Specter sitting in the back "You think I would let my new secretary walk to work? No Princess, in the car" He demanded as you stuttered rushing to the other door sliding into the seat. "Listen. Today's gonna be alot, Y/n, You'll be meeting my former assistant and who's retiring after today, you'll meet Louis Litt, jackass on a stick, he threatens or tries to flirt you tell me got it?" You nodded "You'll meet Mike Ross, my hired associate, you'll also answer to him partially under my word and he'll answer to you." After Harvey got done briefing you, You were trained by a pregnant woman named Donna, had a meeting with Jessica Pearson, a meeting with Louis Litt, and Mike Ross. Now you were being motioned in by Harvey who was sitting at his desk, his suit jacket sitting on his chair as he watched you, he looked hot as hell, and you knew you were shamelessly checking him out, unknown to you he was doing the same thing.

You took a seat in front of him as he offered you a soft smile "Hey, How's your first day?" He asked raising an eyebrow "I-It's good..I'm enjoying it so far..Louis was very...stern though" You mumbled, he raised his eyebrows "Nothing over the line, right? You're alright?" He asked, "I'm fine, Mr. Specter, I'm a big girl" You stated nervously, you knew you had been lying to Harvey since the interview, you were not qualified to work for Pearson-Hardman and you weren't anything like his past receptionist. "Well, I'm heading out for the night, care for a drink?" He offered standing up, grabbing his jacket and files "U-Um actually, I've gotta get back home" Truth was, you had to meet your dealer to get your next bag of weed. "Great, We'll drink there" He said quickly, you could tell he wasn't going to let go of the topic and Donna did warn you, Harvey liked to get close with his receptionists, they were like brother and sister. You huffed going to grab your coat and bag as Harvey called for the elevator, You followed behind eyeing him up and down any chance you got.

As you entered your apartment you realized your dealer had already been there, there was a bag of pre-rolled's on your coffee table. You were quick to dive for the bag grabbing it as Harvey walked in, watching you in confusion "Hiding something?" He asked raising an eyebrow "N-No" You protested crossing your arms, hiding the bag of joints under your arm. He tilted his head walking closer, if he was anybody different you probably would've pepper sprayed his ass, but he was hot and a damn good lawyer. "You know, Y/n..Wanna know something funny about me?" He asked as he stalked closer to you, you looked him in the eyes as you slowly shuffled back towards the wall keeping the bag tightly tucked in-between your arm and chest. "Hmm?" You asked before bumping into the wall, watching as Harvey took slow, agonizing steps towards you until you felt his breath on your face "I know when people are lying...and I know you're lying about a lot of stuff" He said quietly, not breaking eye contact with you, narrowing your eyes you put a hand on his chest. "I don't know what you're talking about Mr. Specter" You offered raising your eyebrows. He slammed his hand against the wall by your head almost making your knees give out and you fall to the floor, Harvey was huffing and you were trying to even your breathing from how hot he was currently "What're you hiding, Y/n" He asked alot more sternly, your arms dropped in defeat, the bag falling to the floor in between your feet and Harvey's. He smirked kneeling down as he picked up the bag with two fingers dangling it infront of your face. "Nothing was it?" He asked again, his tone was antagonizing, like he was teasing you. "Nothing at all" You proposed as he raised his eyebrows leaning closer before pulling one of your joints out, putting it between his lips, lighting it, all before blowing the smoke into your face. "Seems like a pretty good something to me, you get this from Mike?" He asked, your mouth dropped in shocked "That is Mike!" You gasped as he watched you, placing the joint between your lips he smirked "Inhale" He whispered as you took a hit, you inhaled then exhaled before slowly moving to the couch, Harvey close behind.

Your joint bag was gone, you and Harvey had smoked the entire thing and were now stoned off your asses, laying naked in your bed recovering from the most mind-blowing sex you've ever had. "You just ate an entire bag of pretzels how do you not have cotton mouth?" You asked in disbelief, he just laughed rolling on his back, you could see his bare chest and stomach as the sheet started to fall down around his waist. "I'm Harvey Specter I don't get cotton mouff" He stated before laughing as he made eye contact with you "Mouff? Harvey Specter does too get cotton mouff!" You laughed as you handed him your water bottle looking at him as he took a huge gulp. This was a different side of Harvey, one that laughed, that hugged, that cared.

"Harvey?.." You asked after the two of you stopped laughing "Yes?.." He asked turning towards you, draping a hand over your bare waist "Do you sleep with all of your receptionists?" You asked quietly, you could feel his fingers brushing up and down your side as he looked at you "Do you lie and fuck all of your bosses?" He challenged, you raised your eyebrows slapping his chest "ow! I'm kidding!" He laughed "No...I don't..I'm stoned, but, I know you're a sweet woman, who is already amazing at a job she was never qualified for" He stated, you studied his face, watching his breathing. He was truly the most Handsome man you've ever seen.

"Am I fired?" You asked playing with his hair slowly "No...I like you too much to let you go, and it's hard to find a lady to boss me around while also following my orders" He stated kissing your forehead before you tucked your head against his chest dozing off.

#harvey specter #harvey specter x reader #suits tv #mike ross #suits netflix #suits #suits usa

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soberrsoon · 10 months

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okay😭😭 can you do a tom x reader where tom, bill, y/n,gustav, and georg are at a friends party. y/n and bill are hanging out with each other, drinking and telling each other jokes yk, then tom notices and gets jealous? thinking him and y/n are “flirting”.

also i love your writing 😭

T. KAULITZ x READER

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you having fun at a party until a certain someone gets jealous

★ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: mentions of alcohol, cigarettes/smoking

★ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: thanks for the request!

your friend mila was hosting a party and all your mutual friends were invited. you didn’t know who exactly was going to be there but you knew you would see some familiar faces. you were running errands before mila called you, “can you come help set up the party tonight with me?” she asked. “sure! i’m actually out right now, do you need me to pick up anything?” you asked. “some drinks would be nice,” she said. so you were know at the liquor store, putting whatever you could find in your basket before heading over to mila’s place.

when you finally got there he place was a mess. “what happened here?” you asked, slighting shocked to see the dirty apartment. “i haven’t gotten around to cleaning, can you help me?” she asked. you sighed and started picking trash up from the floor. an hour later her house was now clean and it was time to set up the party. you laid out all the drinks and made sure there were enough cups. “you should probably put all your valuable things away,” you suggested to mila. you and mila finished setting up the beer pong table before the guests arrived. the first to show up were your friends terry and angela.

then followed a lot more guests before finally tokio hotel arrived. you didn’t know that they were coming and you started freaking out since you had a massive crush on tom and you didn’t look the best at the moment. “mila why didn’t you tell me they were coming?” you asked frantically combing your hair. “uhm can i change into one of your dresses?” you asked looking down at your casual jeans and a t-shirt. “yeah sure you know where my room is,” mila said before going over to some of her friends.

you walked into her room and closed the door. the music was muffled now which gave you a clearer headspace to think with. you looked at all of her dresses and chose a tight and short black dress. you quickly changed and hurried back to the party. “damn you look good,” mila said. you guys laughed together and went to go get drinks. “let’s go over to the couches,” you said after you both got your drinks. when you got to the couches. you saw bill and tan over to him, sitting down on the seat next to his. “hey bill!” you said enthusiastically since you we’re happy to see him. “where are the others?” you asked. “oh there somewhere, i know tom’s over there though,” he said pointing to the kitchen. you blushed at the sight of tom and immediately turned away when you guys made eye contact.

you and bill started talking and making jokes and as the two of you did you felt eyes on you. it was a really creepy feeling so you suggested you guys love some where else. “do you want to go play beer pong?” you asked bill, he nodded and you guys started walking. you looked around and realized that the started were from tom and you wondered what was up with him since he looked, mad? a few games of beer pong later, you and bill were now incredibly drunk. the two of you decided to go out on the rooftop for some cigarettes. when you two got up there you realized that neither of you had a lighter so bill went down to go find one.

a few minutes after bill left tom approached you and you were very nervous. your face turned slightly red as he started speaking. “do you like bill?” he asked bluntly. you were now shocked because you obviously had a crush on him. “what? bill? what are you talking about?” you asked in confusion. “i saw the way you guys were talking, you were totally flirting with him” he said. “i was just joking with, bill’s my friend,” you said chuckling. “sure,” tom said as he looked away.

“why do you even care?” you asked tom. he was shocked by the question and didn’t answer. “are you jealous or something?” you asked while laughing. “of course i’m not,” he said. tom was a bad liar and you could obviously tell by his tone and body language that he was hiding something. “i like you tom, not bill,” you drunkenly confessed. tom was speechless, “you’re drunk ______.” he said. “i’m not, i swear. i’ve liked you since we first met,” you said while laughing before going back inside to go find bill, leaving tom standing there in shock. he didn’t quite believe since first of all, you were drunk and second of all, you said it so calmly and suddenly. the next morning you woke up to mila cleaning and vacuuming. “finally cleaning?” you asked while laughing. your head hurt a lot and you had no memory of yesterday.

“ugh do you remember what happened yesterday?” you asked mila, getting up to go get a glass of water. “well i had that party and apparently you confessed to tom,” she said with a chuckle. you were silent, “what? i did what to tom?” you asked in shock. “oh my god, no,” you said as you frantically searched for your phone. you finally remembered last night on the roof top and your face turned red. “who else knows?” you asked mila. “just me and tom i guess, you were bragging to me all night,” she said.

“ughhh stop,” you said putting to hands over your face. “oh by the way they’re coming over in a few minutes,” mila said. “what?? why?” you asked. “breakfast,” mila said with a smile. you knew that she had invited them on purpose and immediately got up to go get changed. “i can’t believe you,” you said before storing off to the bathroom. a few minutes later they showed up, you were still in the bathroom even though you were finished changing. you just wanted to avoid tom at all costs because you didn’t know what to say to him. in the end, you decided to just apologize and use your drunkenness as an excuse.

you walked out of the bathroom and to the kitchen. “hey guys,” you said awkwardly before taking a seat next to mila. “look, tom whatever i said to you last night, i was drunk and i’m sorry,” you said as everyone except mila and tom. tom smirked at you before replying. “apologize for saying what?” he asked, obviously acting dumb. “you know, what i said on the roof yesterday,” you explained. “i don’t think i know,” he said with a big smile mastered on his face. “when i confessed to you last night,” you screamed, frustrated now.

everyone looked shocked as the room became silent. “i’m sorry,” you said before running back to the bathroom. “what’s wrong with you?” you heard jolie ask tom from a distance. seconds later you heard someone at the door, it was tom. “can i come in?” he asked. “no,” you replied. you heard him sigh and he opened the door. “______, i was just joking,” he said. “let’s just forget about,” you said. “i like you too,” he said laughing. “what?” you asked, shocked to hear what he had just said. “i said i like you too,” he said again but a little louder. “whatever,” you said before smirking and pulling him in for a kiss.

#no proofreading we die like men #2000s #tokio hotel #tokio hotel fanfic #tokio hotel x reader #fan fiction #2000s music #2000s fashion #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz fanfic #tom kaulitz x reader

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billkaulitz-grrrl · 9 months

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You Make My World Stop Turning -Bill Kaulitz x Reader

Hello everyone! This is my first Tokio Hotel fic and I really hope you like it! I’m new to the fandom so sorry if there are any inaccuracies ahead of time.

Synopsis: You’re the daughter of Tokio Hotel’s manager and recently you’ve become rather close to a certain singer…

MATURE!!!

His hands, god his hands could send me into a coma just by looking at them. I sat, tapping my pen on the clipboard that was handed to me by my father (their manager) as the four band members began warming up for their latest show in a few hours.

I closed my eyes and tried not to fixate on Bill's hands. He held the microphone with such little care, it looked like the device could tumble out of his hand any second but somehow he manages to balance it well enough to keep it off the floor. God he's so annoyingly flawless that it makes my blood boil on occasion.

Bill and I have always just been good friends. I wouldn't say he's my best friend by any means but we always acknowledge each other and chat for awhile when I accompany my dad to their functions. Last night was different though, last night felt different. Or maybe it just felt different to me, with his millions of fan girls I doubt he'd look for a second at the girl he's known since we were 12.

I didn't even intend on hanging out with Bill alone last night but he caught me outside of the hotel smoking a cigarette in the middle of the night. We ended up sitting and talking for a long time. It was nicer than I would've expected. A small part of me dreaded this tour that took up the rest of my beautifully laid out summer. I had all these plans with friends before my mother decided to tell me I was going to Germany to stay with my father during the summer so she could move to Australia for this temp job at the company she's dedicated her entire life to. My german isn't even that good.

I sighed and stood up to go to the bathroom when their first set of the day was over. I crossed backstage to the nicer bathrooms that normal people don't have access to. That is the nice part of being the daughter of a popular band's manager, the bathrooms I go into actually have toilet paper and sometimes even paper towels.

Right before I got to the bathroom I felt a hand grab my shoulder. It was Bill of all people. "Going to smoke up the bathroom?" He asked, a sly grin on his face. I fake a laugh and shake my head. "Dad would kick my ass if he knew I was putting your lungs in danger." I sighed. He looked around and leaned in a bit, "Wanna hangout again tonight?" He asked. I was surprised and he must've notice this because he followed up with, "If you don't want to that's fine, I just can't sleep after shows and your company last night was very soothing."

Why was my heart rate accelerating? Since when did little Bill get so attractive? Fuck this isn't real, I still have to pee. "Aren't you and the guys going to be taking fans up to your room tonight? You don't have the time to spend with me." I tried to keep my cool but something inside me was cracking.

Bill laughed and shook his head. "I could probably get you something else to smoke too if you're into it." He said, putting his fingers to his lips in the motion of smoking a joint. I raised my eyebrows and nodded vigorously. "Same spot?" I asked, thinking of the secluded little area behind the bushes that I located yesterday. He nodded and smiled that deadly smile at me again. I turned to finally use the bathroom with a new giddy feeling in my stomach.

—————

I huddled down into my little corner to

wait for Bill. We had never really settled on a time so I've been waiting for a few minutes. I truly hope he keeps his word and comes out here with me or else I would make quite the fool of myself waiting for him. I reached into my pocket and felt around for my cigs and my lighter. I lit it up and exhaled the smoke with a deep sigh. I heard a few footsteps to my left and I exited my book in order to take a peak at who or what was there. To my relief it was Bill, makeup off and hair wet from a shower.

"Hey there." I grinned, he sat besides me and returned my smile. "Hey, did you like the show?" He asked, cocking his head to the side. "Loved it as much as I've loved the rest of them." I said, offering him a drag from my cigarette. Without taking it from my hand he lightly held my wrist so I could hold it for him while he smoked off of it. A blush came to my cheeks at his dainty touch. I was forever grateful that it was dark enough to hide the red on my cheeks.

"That's good to know." He said, now fumbling in his pockets. He whipped out a joint that looked like it was rolled professionally. "Tom gave me one for tonight but normally he's pretty stingy about his weed." Bill said, asking for my lighter by holding out a hand. I placed it into his finely manicured hand and waited for him to light the joint between his fingers.

His hands caught my eye for the second time today. I heard my heartbeat in my ears watching him inhale the smoke. When offering me the joint, I leaned in the same way he did when hitting my cigarette and I hit it from his hand. Exhaling, I coughed a bit and curled up a little more to be comfortable.

"Did you get a good enough view tonight?" Is he making small talk??

"I did actually, sometime maybe I'll make it down right in front of the stage to watch you up close." I stated thinking about the hordes of fan girls that they had accumulated. "You want to watch me up close?" He smirked at me. I turned away to cover my face. "You're awfully bold if that's what you assume." I muttered, snatching the joint and hitting it myself this time.

"I mean I saw you watching me during practice, so I'd only assume that's how you watch me perform." He leaned a bit closer, our shoulders now touching. "What?" Was the only reply I could muster.

I smoked again, finally feeling the weed in my head. "I said-" He began before I cut him off with, "I heard what you said."

He exhaled with a laugh and took the joint from me. "I watch you sometimes too." He looked at me when he said that and it felt like the world had stopped turning.

"Why?" I asked, feeling like a complete idiot. "Because I think you're pretty." He said bluntly.

Silence fell between the two of us. I felt foggy enough to move in closer to him. He looked me in the eyes before suddenly he closed the space between us by connecting his lips to mine. I jumped at the opportunity and dropped my cigarette before placing my hands on the side of his face.

The moment became heated quickly as his hand made its way to my waist. I clamored onto him like it was the last thing I'd ever do. I sat in his lap and the kiss deepened. His hands moved up and down my sides as I began swirling my hips on top of his.

He leaned his head back and groaned slightly at the contact. I leaned in once more to kiss him and I snaked my hands through his long dark hair. I felt completely primal in this moment, the only people in the world right now were us. I didn't even know how I felt about him until this moment, but apparently a secret part of me has been craving this since I had first met him.

"Y/N..." He muttered, putting his hand on the back of my head and tugging my hair slightly back. "We should go upstairs, do you have your own room?" He asked. "Yeah, my dad is next door though." I said, capturing him in a deep kiss again. After a few more moments he pulled back again and slowly shifted me off of him so he could stand up. He offered me his hand and I took it, leading him towards the elevator to my bedroom.

We stood awkwardly next to each other while waiting for the elevator to arrive. Neither of us wanted to spoil the moment by talking but we knew that at any moment someone could snap a photo of us holding hands that would send Bill's fan girls into an angry spiral.

Once we heard the ding of the elevator we hurried inside, praying that we weren't seen.

The second the elevator door closed he was on me in a flash. His hands began to roam across my body as his lips met my neck. I gasped at his abruptness and instinctively backed up against the wall. He pinned me against it quickly and continued his assault on my neck.

I felt the elevator halt and instantly pushed him off of me and began to straighten my hair. He obviously felt rather proud of himself by the smug smile on his face as we walked out. I led him down the hall to my room and checked both ways for any paparazzi before opening the room and welcoming him inside.

Instantly I shoved his jacket from his shoulders and onto the ground. "So hasty?" He asked, holding his arms out. "Please stop talking." I mumbled, looking away and feeling flustered towards what I should do next.

"Are you nervous?" He asked, genuine hints of concern laced his voice. "Maybe I am, I don't want to stop though.." I replied, moving towards him again. He flashed me a smile and pressed our bodies together again. I gripped his hair and a deep groan came from his throat. Our hips came into contact with each other again and I felt his hard on through his jeans.

I exhaled and took a step back, slowly taking off my sweatshirt, then my t-shirt. His pupils dilated at the sight of me standing there waiting for him, it was like a switch flipped in his brain as he collided with me once more, pushing me down onto my bed. I laid on my back and looked up at him as he began to undo his belt. I knocked his hands out of the way and took his belt off myself.

"Y/N, can I show you a good time?" He asked, like we hadn't already been making out and groping each other for the past 10 minutes. "Please do, I need you Bill." I mumbled. That was all he needed to quickly yank down my sweatpants and clamber on his knees into the floor.

"W-What are you doing?" I asked, sitting myself up on my elbows. "Can I? Make you feel good?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Yes Bill, of course.." "Then just trust me." He said, yanking my legs to the end of the bed and putting his face between my thighs.

I gasped as his tongue made contact with my clit through my underwear. My right hand flying to grab his hair and my left hand gripped the bedsheets besides me. "Bill, please." I whined desperately. His lean fingers looped under my underwear and he pulled them down my legs. Next thing I knew he dove into me like it was the last thing he'd ever do.

It took everything in me not to scream his name at the top of my lungs. His tongue lapped at my clit while his fingers made their way inside of me over and over again. Whenever my legs clamped around his head, he used both arms to push them apart so he could continue to finger fuck me to the best of his ability.

I moaned his name which only caused him to speed up. His dark eyes met mine and I felt a knot begin to form in my stomach. "Please don't stop Bill, please I need this!" I whined loudly. He stopped what he was doing to ask, "Please can you repeat that?" I felt incredibly pissed off that he had stopped so of course I obliged. "Bill, please fuck me, I need it so badly." I sat up and grabbed his hair, pushing him down between my legs once more.

He didn't seem to mind since his pace only increased. Never once has a man treated me this good.

His fingers suddenly stalled inside of me and he looked up at me again. “Can I fuck you?” He asked, lust lacing his eyes. “Please.” I smiled back at him. I scooted back on the bed as he got undressed. I looked away, because I was unsure as to whether I should be looking at him right now. “Baby?” Does he mean me? “Y-Yes?” I asked. I felt his hand on my jaw as he turned me to look at him. “Look at me. Don’t be afraid.” He said.

I looked at him and fully absorbed the sight in front of me. Bill Kaulitz standing, wearing nothing but dark grey boxers. I felt myself blushing. He chuckled a bit before crawling on top of me and taking off my bra. “You look so beautiful Y/N.” He said, dipping down to kiss my neck.

I thanked him before allowing my hands to wander down his torso to the hem of his boxers. His lips halted on my neck as I began to push them down.

All of a sudden, there was an abrupt knock on my door.

“Fuck!” I whispered, shoving Bill off of me and onto the floor next to my bed. “Honey? It’s dad, let me in.” I heard my father’s voice from the other side of the door. “J-Just a second! I’m changing!” I shouted back.

“Bill, get under the bed.” I whispered. His eyes were about as wide as I could only assume mine were. I threw my sweatpants and t-shirt back on to open to door.

Next thing I knew my father was in my hotel room asking me if I’ve been keeping up with my summer homework on tour while I sat on top of the bed that a nearly naked Bill laid under.

#bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader

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residentflamingo · 11 months

Text

Little Things That Jihyo Loves About You 💕

The slow rise and fall of your chest while you’re sleeping

Your scent

When going on tour, she always has to bring a piece of your clothing that smells like you, or else she’ll get extremely homesick

Your smile

It's her absolute favorite thing in the world. When she's having a bad day, she always finds comfort in your smile.

It makes her have butterflies in her stomach, every. single. time. T-T

The way you slightly lift her up off the ground every time you hug her

Acting like a child at times (not in an immature way, but just letting out your inner child.)

"Honey what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm smoking!" you shouted; as you blew another long breath of hot air into the cold atmosphere, turning it into a "smoke-like" appearance. "Haha, look!"

Jihyo looked over at you and slowly shook her head with a small smile on her face. Meanwhile, you were still giggling over your childish act

She then walked over towards you and said, "Here let me try that too. I bet I can blow more air than you!" (Typical Jihyo, always being so competitive lol.)

Hyping her up while she's playing golf

When you call her God Jihyo

Texting her while she's at dance practice asking if she has drank enough water, or eaten lunch at all

Her favorite texts from you, are the ones she gets on tour that say "Text me when you get back to the hotel safely, okay? I love you, and have fun at dinner! ♡"

The way your cheeks turn red after she kisses you

When you guys watch tv together and you try your best to stay awake, even though you're absolutely exhausted

When you play with her nieces or nephews and make them laugh 🥹

Asking her to open a jar for you

When you try to pay the bill at dinner even though it's really expensive

"Here honey let me pay for the bill, I just got my paycheck yesterday."

"No, absolutely not. I make enough money for the both of us to be millionaires. Let me spoil you tonight."

"Absolutely not! You are not paying. I don't care if you're god damn Madonna or Prince, let me pay for it 😑."

(this is 100% in a joking kind of manner btw.)

Meanwhile, Jihyo is just dying laughing from the other side of the table, and appreciates how kind you were trying to be by paying the bill

Doing small acts of kindness towards strangers, and not expecting anything in return

She really admires you for that. Simply because, as some people get older, they tend to think more about themselves, and don't think about doing things for strangers anymore

So seeing you do those kinds of things really makes her happy that she found someone as kind as you

She definitely sees you as wifey material ;)

#twice headcanons #jihyo x reader #twice fanfic #jihyo x fem reader #jihyo twice #park jihyo #park jihyo x fem reader #twice park jihyo #park jihyo x reader #park jihyo twice #twice #twice x reader #twice x fem reader #jihyo x y/n #twice x you #twice x y/n #jihyo headcanons #park jihyo headcanons

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kaulitzhotel · 9 months

Note

HEY!! I have a request, could you make Tokio Hotel x self-destruct fem!reader? I mean, she knows she's hurting herself but she doesn't care? doesn't sleep (and even if she does, she goes to bed very late and then gets up very late, so she's usually restless, tired and barely alive/ barely in touch with reality), barely eats (and even if she eats little, I drink too much energy drinks and takes tranquilizer pills), probably does sh and takes drugs (cigarettes, alcohol and drugs) and it all makes her look practically zombie but she likes this lifestyle?

Synopsis: You have a zombie lifestyle and could care less about your health. Nothing matters at all. But Tokio Hotel is there to turn that around. (2008)

Content: Angst and fluff.

Notes: I'm not sure what you wanted at the end but I put a good ending. Lowkey emotional. Enjoy though!

° 　. ● . ★ ° . *　　　° * 　.　 :　　:●. 　 *° :●. 　 * °

Read my mind and help me...

I sat there on my bed looking out the glass window. The clouds overwhelm the sky. I couldn't think. Everything was a blur and there seemed to be no emotion I could feel. I could only feel the bags underneath my eyes, the sounds of my stomach begging for food, and the migraines I get throughout the day. I continued to watch outside as it was bewildering me.

“Y/N?...” I heard the door open a little. I could see the spiky black hair from the corner of my eye.

“Hello, Bill.” I breathed. My mouth was too tired to let words come out.

“You've been in your room for weeks. Let's go somewhere with the guys.” He sat next to me giving me a squeeze on the top of my hand.

“Do you understand?”

“What?” Bill said confused.

“Don't you see, I can't move? I'm hungry but I just want to starve. I'm getting no sleep, I see no point in life. I see no point in me living.”

Bill stayed quiet and when I turn my head to look at him his mascara was running down his cheeks. “I'm sorry Bill,” I whispered.

“Don't be!” He smiled and wiped it away quickly, “I'm not going to let this happen to you. We love you Y/N.” It was my turn to weekly squeeze his hand back, “I love you guys too but I think it's time.”

“You got a whole life to live. I'm not letting you give up.”

I sighed at his response, “Tomorrow.” “I'll go out tomorrow.” I continued.

Bill gave one last squeeze and left the room. I got up after a few minutes of walking to my dresser. Underneath my clothes was a pack of cigarettes. I walk to the chair that was right by the window. I felt my bones wobble as I walked. I was getting weak by the second. I missed dancing and running on the sand at the beach. Those happy memories fade. I lit the cigarette and lifted it to my mouth. I paused for a second, “What am I doing to myself?” But I smoked the cigarette anyways.

The next day

Again a restless night. I walk to the bathroom and change my clothes into shorts and a tank top. My shorts seemed to ride down a bit. I missed my belly. I stared at the mirror all I saw was me. But was it me?

I went back to the room to put a sweater over my tank top. I opened the curtains and it was bright. The clouds disappeared and the sun was overtaking the city.

I go straight to the kitchen after and get out whiskey with a shot glass. Before I could pour it a voice stopped me, “Don't you think it's too early to drink? It's only 8:30 AM.”

“Nothing is over too early Georg.”

“Just for one day, try?”

I tighten my grip on the whiskey bottle and put it back in the cabinet. I'll drink later. I go to the fridge and get out a rockstar energy drink. Georg came over to side hug me. “Where are the others?”

“They are coming right now. We planned something for you today.” He smiled. “Great,” I said sarcastically.

That's when the boys enter the kitchen. “Good morning!” Bill singed. Tom walked up to me and gave me a big hug lifting me from the ground, “How's my girl?”

“Making it I guess.”

He put me down and his eyes stared at mine, “We brought food.”

“Thanks, but I'm not hungry.” Till my stomach replied by gurgling.

“Lies!” Gustav laughed at my stomach. Everyone laughed and I cracked up a bit myself.

“You laughed,” Bill said making everyone pause. “Well yeah?” Bill just looked down and everyone started setting up my dining room table.

We all sat on the table and I picked on my food. What happens if I throw up? I was scared. My hands started shaking and I was blubbering up.

“What's wrong?” Bill cautioned. That's when I lost it. The tears were streaming down my face and Bill hugged me trying to quiet me down.

“You don't have to eat, we understand,” Georg reassured. I wiped my tears with my sleeves calming down a bit.

“It's okay I'm just freaking myself out right now.”

“How about some chicken noodle soup?” Gustav asked, “I told you guys not to get Mcdonald's.”

Bill gasped as he held his Mcgrittle like a baby. “I'll make you some,” Gustav said. Tom went with him to help. “How do you open this thing?” Tom struggled as he tried to open the can of soup. “Use a can opener dumbass.” Gustav holding it up to his face. I laughed at them. It's been a while since I saw something this funny.

After a few minutes of struggling to cook soup

Gustav came to me with the bowl. I looked at it and thanked him. They all continued eating and I grab a spoonful of chicken, carrots, and broth. I blew on it carefully and swallowed it. I was starving.

“Chew it Y/N.” Georg chuckled. “Sorry, it's just so good,” I said taking another spoonful. They all seemed to enjoy watching me eat my food for once. My brain was functioning to not finish it all but I forced myself to eat it all. I am going it for the guys, and I guess me too.

“Let's get on the road now!” Bill exclaimed.

“Where are we going?” “Don't worry.” Gustav winked at me.

I rolled my eyes and we get in the car after cleaning up. The car was small but had enough space for all of us. I looked out the window and smelled the addicting aroma of smoke. My eyes looked around and Tom was smoking a cigarette.

“Can I have one?” I put my hand out. He shook his head but I grab onto the box and pulled the box. He pulled back. We were going back and forth. “Give me one!” “No!”

“HEY! No smoking. No one smokes today.” Georg yelled at us and snatched the box from our hands and threw it out the window.

“You're getting mad at us for smoking but you are over here littering.” Tom complained.

Georg looked at the both of us as we threw a fit. “Sit the fuck back.” And he sped up his driving.

At the destination

We had finally made it and before I could get out the door my eyes were covered by cold hands. “What's going on guys?”

They didn't say anything but guided me to walk. “Take off your sandals,” Tom spoke. “Okay?”

I took them off and my feet were touching something warm making the tip of my toes burn. we continued walking and I smelled the saltiness of fresh air. My legs trembled and I just wanted to be home drinking. The hands were removed from my eyes and it took me a while to see everything. It was mindblowing. The ocean came to my ankles.

I turned around and from a few feet away there were chairs, umbrellas, coolers everywhere, and water guns. Just like the good old days.

“Wow...” I said to myself. “What do you think Y/N?” Bill said with a big smile. “I have no words but thank you, guys it feels great to be here.”

But not everything was perfect. My legs couldn't hold in longer and my body fell to the ground my arms catching myself.

“Woah you okay?” Goerg rushed to help me get back up. “Yeah, just tired.” He helped me sit down in the shade.

“We will help you swim if you want.” Tom suggested.

“It's fine I love the view. And besides you just want to hold me.” I poked fun at him.

“Glad your back.” Tom laughed.

Gustav got out some drinks and handed it to all of us. We talked and played around in the sand till the sun went down.

Then I watched them play in the water fighting as always. I know things have to change and I couldn't tell them what else I've been doing without them here. They would be disappointed. But who knows if I will go back to my old habits. I put my head back on the chair and breathed the cold air out of my mouth.

“Y/N! Come join us!” Bill screamed as they kept flipping each other in the water.

I took off my sweater and walk to the water. This is my home.

° 　. ● . ★ ° . *　　　° * 　.　 :　　:●. 　 *° :●. 　 * °

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel fanfic #bill kaulitz #tom kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #x reader #fluff #boy bands #imagine #2000s #2008 #tokio x reader #tokio hotel x reader #angst

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philliam-writes · 1 year

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you are in the earth of me [02]

Pairing: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader

Content: canon-typical violene, patching up Reader, author pining for Lockwood

Summary: Your eyes pop open. Lockwood is standing at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the banister with his arms crossed, an amused look on his face. All tousled dark hair and brown eyes as sharp as glass, he is as tall as Kipps, perhaps taller, and lankier. But their demeanours are quite different. Where Kipps is calm and steady like stone, reliable like the earth that is always solid under your feet, Lockwood seems striking like a flash of bright lightning—quick-witted and assured in the path he carves as though the mere thought of something standing in his way is so far-off that he just barrels ahead with no regard of what he sets ablaze.

Notes: [01] | [03]

Words: 7.3k

A/N: Nothing could have prepared me for the overwhelming positive feedback I got for chapter 01!! Thank you so much for everyone who's joined the ride. I hope you guys will enjoy this as much as I!! (I'm on my 4th rewarch of Lockwood & Co. and I still delight in noticing all the small details they put into the show. Also. Lockwood's voice! Makes! Me! Weak!

02: for whom the bell tolls

each man’s death diminishes me, for i am involved in mankind. therefore, send not to know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee

— John Donne

The Rotwell dormitory you live in, nicknamed the Lions Den, is a stocky brick house taking up a good chunk of Dovehouse Street. There used to be a hotel there, way before the Problem, and then an apartment complex for the rich elderly until Rotwell bought the whole building and its private gardens just to prove they can. Echoing the classical Georgian townhouses of Chelsea built out of pale toast and earthy red shades of brick, every residence features timber-panelled walls, triple-glazed windows, and smoked oak floors throughout.

The front entrance has glass doors sliding open for anyone entering. Somehow, the foyer always smells like pine needle polisher. To the right side is a row of mail boxes with each tenant’s name, on the left side is the guard’s office, separated from the foyer by sleek glass panels. Someone decided to put a whole rainforest inside, monstera, rubber trees, philodendrons. They nearly swallow tonight’s agent covering the shift: a bulky, young girl with dark curls to her chin looking like a malformed porcelain doll—delicate features on top, sinewy muscle stretching the seams of her wine red agent jacket going down. She stares at you for a moment, blinking with her long black eyelashes.

You wave.

She doesn’t wave back, and returns to painting her nails a vibrant yellow you could pick out from space.

Inside your mail box, you find ads and unpaid bills, reminders to pay said bills, and a very unflattering drawing of you working out in the dormitory’s underground gym area. You crumble the note and throw it back inside, slamming the window shut.

Your two-room apartment lies at the end of a long corridor, facing the backside and gardens. It is a copy paste of all other living complexes inside this building: a small entrance leading into a spacious living area with a cream-coloured two-seater couch at its centre, a solid cherrywood desk next to the curtained window and a heavy antique armoire twice your size pushed against the wall. Behind an ornate cedar door is the small bedroom, king-sized bed and heavy bureau and all that makes it look more like a hotel room advert than a place where you could wind down after a hard day.

As always, you stand in the hallway for a moment before turning the lights on. It is quiet, the room smells of polished wood and washed laundry. As always, it feels as though the walls are closing in.

You flick the light on and stash your rapier inside the umbrella rack by the front door, ignoring the two trash bags waiting to be thrown out. The laundry has been hanging for three days, but there was just no time to clean it away because you’re barely here—every minute spend within these walls is taken up by sleeping, eating or occasionally staring bleary-eyed at the ceiling and counting the heavy thuds from above whenever the agent living in the upper apartment decides it is time to practice tango in high heels at three in the morning.

You cross the room and open the window, letting in the cool night breeze. The smell of dawn hangs in the air, crispy and cold like the crackling of dry leaves. It will take only a few more hours for the sun to rise and draw London’s people from their homes to go about their daily lives. Jobs, grocery runs, late afternoon dates, strolls through the parks. When the world wakes up, you turn in to sleep, bloody, beaten and bruised, but alive.

You wonder if every day will be like this. Fight against the Problem and only chip away at the immeasurable scale of its extent. This night, you have secured two Sources, stopped two hauntings. But how does this affect the grand scheme of things?

Your head hurts. Best to leave the existential crisis for another day; right now all you need is your soft pillow and the familiar smell of your lavender-detergent. The Problem will still be there once you wake up; it will not ruin those precious hours asleep where you don’t have to worry about anything.

Every apartment has a tiny kitchen and bath adjacent to the living area. A cup of tea before you turn in, and maybe one or two of those chocolate chip biscuit a client gave you last week in appreciation for driving off the Lurker in her basement.

The kitchen looks just like you left it: as though a salt bomb has gone off. There was no time to put away the dishes or give the pan a quick scrub before you left for your shift, and now the leftover burnt bits stick to the dark surface. The half-full cup of coffee has grown cold since the morning, left forgotten. You’re too tired to clean up. It’ll have to wait until you wake up, or maybe even after the next shift.

You consider throwing your head back and screaming for a second when all of a sudden an intense hate for this apartment geysers up and threatens to swallow you. It is tiny, suffocating. There is nothing personal about this—you could disappear from the world and it would just become someone else’s responsibility and property. Nothing would indicate that you left a mark in this place.

Putting the kettle on the stove, you pick out your favourite mug with a broken handle—Kipps’s fault when he knocked it off the table a couple months back—and return to the living room. Your coat smells of burnt fabric from ectoplasm. The agency is very strict when it comes to appearance and representing Rotwell's splendid work ethic, so replacing it will put another dent in your account, but that is still better than going through the same trouble as last month when you appeared with a chocolate smudge on your jacket and every supervisor spotting you gave you hell for it.

Half-shrugged out of your coat, you walk back, past the closed window.

And stop.

Slowly, you turn. Only your own reflection stares back at you—wide-eyed and dishevelled from today. There’s a dark patch on your shoulder where ectoplasm has eaten like acid through the fabric of your coat. The lock is latched firmly on the inside, the metal clip winking at you under the Tiffany lamp’s reflection. Suddenly, everything depends on how still you are against the moving world.

Where did you leave your rapier? Ah, inside the umbrella rack back in the hallway. What’s the closest bludgeon weapon you can get your hands on? Only an empty Pringles can, yesterday’s dinner.

In the window’s reflection, the dark patch on your shoulder rises, distorts. Grows a head. Even with the room plunged into silence, your heart beats rabbit-fast and you hold your breath to keep from making a sound. Just this once, you’re thankful you were running late this morning and didn’t have time to clean up the leftover breakfast on your office desk that stands against the wall. Not even five steps separate you from the blunt silver knife glinting under the lamp with specks of dried jam on its blade.

The shadow behind you grows bulky shoulders and broad arms. When it steps onto the small area just a little to the right from the entrance, the wood creaks.

The world jerks back into motion.

You lunge for the knife on the table when a hard body slams into yours. You crash against the wardrobe, your head hitting the hard wood with a loud crack. The room spins as all air is knocked out of your lungs. You notice a blurry shadow rising in front of you, and your body moves on autopilot—rolls to the right and falls to the ground just in time to dodge a fist punching a hole into the wardrobe.

Nauseating headache throbs like lightning flashes in the back of your head as you scramble back to your feet, wheezing from the pain spreading through your body from the impact. Your rapier. You need your rapier.

Wood splinters when your attacker draws his hand back. He is almost two heads taller than you, completely clad in black. Even his face hides behind a ski mask. All you see are two pinpricks of unfathomably dark eyes as though this man has gazed into an abyss and the abyss has gazed right back at him.

He doesn’t move for a second, stands as though frozen on the spot. Only his hand flexes, relaxes. Clenches. Silver glints off his gloved knuckles. He is here with one intention only: to hurt you.

You don’t have time to ask why. His legs are longer; he closes the distance between you with two long steps, swings his arm towards your face. You spin and fling yourself over the backrest of the sofa, bounce off its cushions and jump to your feet on the other side. With furniture between you and the intruder, you finally force yourself to take in deep breaths. Think.

The smell coming off of him. You recognise it. Grainy, woody with a fruity note. The sweetness you picked up earlier this night must have been caramel. Alcohol.

“Look, if this is about me bumping into your table earlier at the Green Goose, you could just ask for a proper apology,” you press out between gritted teeth. Your whole body feels like a giant bruise, sore and laden from exhaustion.

Every step he takes around the couch, you mirror until it becomes a dance of bodies and mind to see who gives in first; who slows down and loses focus.

At first you believe the noise to be your frantic breathing—or his rattling wheeze, but then you pick it up. A rough, scratchy voice.

“Dickey … need … dickey …”

Your muscles are so taut you fear they might snap any second. Another circle around your couch you go. “What? I don’t—I don’t know what that is.”

“The … the key,” he repeats, louder this time. “I need the key.”

“Key? What key?” You feel the gnawing urge to squeeze your eyes shut against the vertigo of this situation. “I don’t have a key—”

The memory flies back so fast it nearly knocks you out like an incoming brick. Bronze, small, resting within the cushions of a small seal. Disappearing into the deep pockets of a black coat. The echo of death and violence still sticking to your fingers even through the fabric of your gloves.

You round the couch again and stop, the desk at your back. The knife is just in reach. “I don’t have that key.”

“I saw it. He gave it to you. You have no idea how important it is to us.” His voice rises to a snarl, the quality rougher than satin scratching over bark.

“He never gave—” Another memory hurtles your way—it is a wonder you don’t pass out from a concussion. The candy. It is still inside your pocket, suddenly heavier than a stone.

Everything makes sense now.

You take a step back towards the table. “You’ve got it all wrong,” you say, your words tumbling over themselves in their haste to get out, “I don’t have the key, and I don’t know where it is. I’ve got nothing to do with it.”

“LIES!” he hollers, and punches the backrest of your couch. The loud thud is like a gunshut, and you move, whirl around and grab for the knife—and completely misjudge where it is. Instead, your hand slaps on the dirty plate.

It could be worse.

Heavy steps thump behind you. You grab the plate, turn and hurl it at the man. It slams into him, shattering into thousand pieces.

You fly past him, towards the hallway and umbrella rack where your rapier is waiting. Stretching your hand out, your fingers brush against the silver handle—

A hard grip catches the end of your trenchcoat, yanking you back. The blow comes out of nowhere, slamming into your face so hard you see stars. Your back teeth clang together. Black dots dance before your eyes and blur your vision as pain radiates from your cheek. Something sharp and hard slides across your knees, slicing the fabric of your jeans clean in half.

Fingers curling, tightening their hold around the familiar hilt, you turn and draw back your arm, and let it snap forward like a snake lashing out and sinking its venomous teeth into its prey.

The silver-tipped edge of your rapier drives into the man’s shoulder and he cries out in pain, staggers back—and takes your rapier with him. He curls his gloved fingers around the thin blade and yanks the tip out of his shoulder, throwing your weapon to the ground where it lies useless and completely out of reach.

He reaches into a side pocket and draws a jagged, razor-sharp knife.

On second thought, maybe you should just run.

You bolt for the hallway once more, this time aiming straight for the door. The sound of a fast-moving object sailing towards you—something moving quickly and swiftly and with enough force to slice the air in half—makes you throw yourself forward, just in time to dodge the glinting edge nipping your hair.

You yank at the handle, letting white light spill into the apartment from the outside hallway.

Two thinks happen at once.

You wrench the door open and squeeze through the narrow gab. The man behind you slams bodily into the door and you hear a pained groan. At the same time, something sharp cuts through your trenchcoat and jacket. Searing-hot pain explodes in your left side.

You manage to push through and shut the door with a loud slam. A second bang shakes the door; he must have run into it again trying to chase after you.

Hot pain radiates from your side. You grit your teeth hard enough your jaw hurts and follow along the hallway all the way back to the foyer.

When you reach the night guard’s office, there is nobody inside. As if this night couldn’t turn even worse. A small glass bottle lies disturbed on the table, spreading yellow nail polish like spilt blood on its surface. The girl must have knocked it over, now gone to fetch a cleaner.

Great.

You throw yourself under the table and disappear from sight; somewhere on the first floor a door slams shut.

There has to be a way out. A way to draw attention; a way to drive him away. As your eyes rake across the room to find something, anything, they land on a red button behind a small glass window. The ghost-alarm in case of hauntings inside the dorms.

You crawl out from under the desk and scurry across the room, heart beating in your throat. If you turn and he is behind you …

Slamming your fist into the small panel, the button gives away without any resistance.

Sirens blare in the building. More doors slam—opening this time as hundred agents emerge from their rooms. Voices echo from the hallways, drowned by the sprinklers going off and raining salt from the ceiling like little diamonds.

You back into a corner, wide eyes staring at the foyer and counting down the seconds until your attacker enters—any moment, any moment, any moment. Only agents begin to spill into the hall, pale faced, groggy from being rudely awakened after tiring shifts.

With the imminent threat gone, the adrenaline pumping through your body slowly ebbs away—leaving behind bone-deep exhaustion, and mind-numbing pain as though your whole body is one giant bruise.

Your clothes stick to your skin, something warm tickles down your side. You cross the room on wobbling feet, forcing yourself not to look; convincing yourself that it is just coffee, just like a few hours ago when you sat in the booth next to Kipps.

The phone receiver on a corner stand is heavier than you remember. Your fingers move as if possessed, finding the familiar numbers on the dial. It rings. Once, twice.

Tears prick in the back of your eyes as it keeps ringing, your call remaining unanswered. Maybe he hasn’t come home yet. Maybe he is still out. Your throat is dry. You feel like an animal trapped against a corner. Suddenly, everything goes blurry.

Click. Kipps’s tired groan is all you get for a hello.

“Quill,” you choke out. Because despite having to call DEPRAC or maybe an ambulance, Quill Kipps will always be the first you turn to in moments of crisis. “Quill, I might have been stabbed.”

Silence. On the other line, you hear fabric rustling, as though he is crawling out of bed.

“What,” Kipps says, his voice rough from sleep, “the fuck.”

You still don’t know what is so special about the address Kipps has sent you to compared to the hospital or Scotland Yard where you assume they are more qualified to handle your dilemma, but you hope that you arrive soon because the daggers the cab driver keeps throwing at you seem more lethal than the gashing wound in your side.

When he finally stops the car—abruptly enough to launch your body against the frontseat—you rummage through your pockets and empty them completely, leaving a generous tip for bleeding on his car seats.

You barely manage to close the door behind you when he speeds off, leaving a dust trail behind.

The sky is turning cotton pink on the horizon. Dawn spreads light and hope across the city, bright and clear, and very painful for your strained, exhausted eyes. You turn away, taking in your surroundings.

The cab has left you in a residential area at the centre of London where the Victorian semis look like they might belong on old postcards from better times, before the Problem. 35 Portland Row is an inconspicuous, four-level house at the very end of the street. Just like its neighbours, it would not suffer from a new repaint, or maybe just a good clean-up.

A lone shadow sits by the stairs leading into the building, rising when you approach. Kipps looks like you feel: his hair sticks out in all directions and there are half-moons of shadow under his eyes, as if they have been smudged there with coal. He rubs the back of his neck as though that would release all the tension from the last twenty-four hours. Worry is etched deep into his face—worry and guilt, and it is an expression you haven’t seen in a long time. It makes your heart clench, turning it into something small, hard, and cold.

He meets you halfway and catches you when you stumble into him, allowing yourself to be held at last. His hold on you is strong and hard, until you hiss when sharp pain from your wound makes it hard to walk. Kipps’s hold lightens.

“What the hell happened?” he demands, his long fingers gently nudging your head left and right by your chin. You’re pretty sure there is a nasty bruise blooming from the punch.

“Turns out someone out there really wants that bloody key,” you say, unable to put quite the heat into the words like you wanted.

The effect is pretty much the same.

It is like a door slamming shut; his expression closes off completely. He puts your arm around his shoulders and hauls you up the stairs. To your surprise, the door is already unlocked and swings open when he pushes against it with his other shoulder.

You enter into a narrow, dark hallway, only illuminated by light streaming into it from an adjacent room. The house smells of iron and salt, leather coats, and a curious dusty, musty tang. On both sides of the walls hang weird masks and odd curios on shelves. Everything about this entrance screams extravagance, but also something inexplicably homely. The complete opposite from your apartment. Voices sound from the first door to your right, silencing upon the front door clicking shut behind you. Now everything is dead silent.

Kipps leads you past an old, chipped plant pot that functions as an umbrella stand and rapier holder. They are old French models with specks of ectoplasm stuck to blades, and dents in the hilts. One long, black umbrella is bent in the middle as though someone had used it as a weapon and didn’t get around to throw it away.

You emerge into a small, cluttered living area containing a fireplace, an old sofa and a few sturdy armchairs grouped around a coffee table. Heavy dark curtains obscure half of the window where the first streaks of sunlight steal through the gap, showing dust dance in the light.

Three heads swivel your way, all in different states of confusion. You recognise one face.

Anthony Lockwood jumps out of his armchair. It has only been a few hours since you last saw him, and so far he has only taken off his black coat. His white shirt is wrinkled, his black tie thrown over his shoulder. There is something restless about him, like a moth fluttering from flame to flame.

Kipps slides you into the free seat on the sofa right next to a giant pile of crumpled ironing. Shirts, pants, and briefs tumble to the ground as you finally allow yourself to slump into the seat and let your guard down.

The room tilts for a moment. You close your eyes, trying to comprehend today’s events. Multiple voices bombard you from all directions and turn into a pounding headache at the back of your skull.

A metal lid clicks open. Careful hands remove your coat, then lift your shirt where the blood has seeped into the fabric, making it stick to your gashed skin. When your eyes flutter open, Kipps kneels before you on the rug, a deep worry crease slicing through his forehead as he inspects your wound.

“Well, good news. It’s not that deep,” he observes. With swift fingers, calloused from handling rapier and tools, he takes the antiseptic and a clean wipe from the first-aid case—expert hands that are used to medical attention; that know the dance of patching up wounds and tending to injuries. You doubt it is something any agent will forget, even when they have served their duty.

When he applies the disinfect after cleaning the blood, you hiss; your body tenses from the pain. “Cool. I’ll thank him next time I see him,” you say through gritted teeth.

Kipps gives you a curt, quick look—but there is still some relief; relief that even now you can be snippy.

“Did you see his face? What did he look like?” Loockwood asks. He’s leaning over the back of the couch, hand holding onto the backrest hard enough his knuckles turn white.

“I don’t know, I was busy trying not go get turned into a shish kebab.” You kick at Kipps when he dabs the gauze a little too hard into your wound.

“Stop moving,” he warns.

“That didn’t work out much,” a girl’s voice notices drily.

You open your eyes. Behind Lockwood’s shoulder, two agents stare at you, blinking their wide eyes like owls.

The boy’s nose twitches. “She bled on the new rug, Lockwood.”

You feel like an exhibit in a museum. Lucy Carlyle and George Karim. Names only familiar to you because you can’t remember a day where Kipps has not complained about them as much as about Lockwood.

“Yeah, why exactly—am I here?” You shift in the seat. Something is poking you in the back. When you pat the cushion, you find an old, dry biscuit.

Behind Lockwood, Lucy gives George a long, pointed look. Seems like this isn’t the first time they witness someone finding leftover snacks in the crevices of their couch.

“You said he was looking for the key?” Kipps is applying gauze to your clean wound which makes everything just a little better; you begin to feel like a human again. Now all you need is a good, healthy amount of sleep. Preferable for the next three days.

“He thought I had it on me. Said something about … how important it was to them.”

Lockwood perks up. “Who is them?”

“Well, he didn’t give me a list or anything.” You pull out some stray socks from under your bum and let them join their siblings on the ground. Slumping into your seat, you notice it is quite comfortable. You’re sinking into the cushions and there is something calming about the smell of old wood and the heavy curtain’s detergent. “But he was desperate. It seemed like … I don’t know. He’ll be in serious trouble without it.”

“Well, good thing it’s with DEPRAC now,” Kipps says, settling back on his heels after he finishes bandaging you up. The silence hanging in the room is stifling. Kipps looks over the backrest of the sofa at Lockwood. “You did bring it to DEPRAC like we agreed to. Right, Lockwood?”

Slowly, Lockwood leans away from the sofa as though that is the only appropriate measure to take in case Kipps decides to hurl himself over the sofa and strangle him. He has the good manners to look almost contrite. “I might have missed out on the chance to deliver it to Inspector Barnes,” he says slowly. His face is calm and betrays nothing, like the blank statue of a saint in a cathedral.

Kipps is on his feet in an instant. Red patches of rage have broken out over his face and throat. “You lying, conniving piece of—”

Lockwood claps his hands loudly. “This just proves that we cannot let anyone except professionals handle this case. Least of all DEPRAC. Someone’s after it because they know whatever that key unlocks is important.”

“Or he was the Visitor’s killer and he knows it could be evidence,” George points out. “Like Annabelle Ward and Fairfa—”

Lucy slaps her hand over her coworker’s mouth. Her wide eyes stare at him, then pin you down. George blinks, then nods slowly.

You raise your hand. “You know, being the one who got stabbed over this, I veto you let the adults handle it.”

Lockwood gives you a dazzling smile. “Overruled.”

“Let’s sleep on it first,” Lucy says, rubbing the exhaustion from her eyes with her sleeve. “We’ll decide what to do next when we wake up. And yes, leaving it with DEPRAC is still an option.” She looks over at Lockwood, her eyebrows raised. You can’t think of many who manages to make a proposition sound like a threat.

“First reasonable thing I hear any of you say today,” Kipps scoffs. There is still anger in his voice, but you don’t think it is directed at anyone specific this time. This anger smells of frustration. It stems from knowing days like these are in the fine print of becoming an agent. The danger from having to deal with the living from time to time, which can be so much more dangerous than the dead. He turns to you. “Let me drop you off at a hotel.”

“I—” You don’t want to be alone, not after tonight. But Kipps also lives in the Fittes dormitories and they are mercilessly strict when it comes to non-employed visitors, despite being a senior supervisor like Kipps who enjoys some privileges.

“We must assume whoever attacked you might be out there still tracking you,” Lockwood says, and leans forward to settle his elbows against the backrest. His white shit stretches taut over his shoulders and back, catches over his spine. He lowers his dark eyes to you, within which swims a quiet, but solid confidence as though he has never faced a situation he couldn’t handle. It makes you want to rely on him, a thought you quickly push away the moment it steps into your mind. “We have a spare couch in the library you can crash on until morning—” He glances over his shoulder towards the window where sunlight peaks through the heavy curtains. An almost coy smile captures his lips, showing the hint of a dimple. “Until we wake up.”

You raise both eyebrows. “I can?”

Both Lucy and George give Lockwood the sideye. “She can?”

Lockwood frowns. “Unless you have somewhere else to go?”

“A couch sounds perfect.” You are tired enough you wouldn’t mind sleeping on the floor. You throw Kipps a quick look. He doesn’t look happy, but even he realises this is better than leaving you all by yourself.

With nobody objecting, George heaves a defeated sigh. “Let me go and pick up the empty chips bags,” he says, and shuffles out of the room. You hear wood creak when he stalks down the hallway.

When you tear your eyes away from where he left through the door, you notice Lucy keeps staring at you with an odd look you can’t place. As though she doesn’t really know what to think of you and why you are suddenly here, only 'here' doesn't seem to apply to the living room of her home. It feels like she doesn't seem to know why you have suddenly stepped into her life. She manoeuvres around Lockwood, painstakingly making sure there’s furniture between you and her.

Kipps is by your side helping you up. He follows Lockwood's directions through the entrance hall. You pass the stairs to the end of the hallway where George is carrying an armful of empty bottles and plastic bags out of what you assume must be the library.

It is a small, oak-panelled room across the hall from the lounge. No light sneaks inside with the heavy curtains shrouding the windows. Up to the ceilings, hardback volumes are crammed into black, heavy shelves that line all four walls. It smells of books and ink and printed paper, making you immediately feel at ease under the dim, warm light of an old standard lamp tucked into a corner.

Kipps makes sure you’re comfortable on the leather couch, throwing a worn, chequered wool blanket over your legs. He looks at you for a long moment. Then he seems to crumple inside, like paper; he sinks down in the leather chair opposite you, and puts his face into his hands. “I should have just told Lockwood No when he asked for someone with Touch. I never wanted you to get involved like this.”

“It’s a little too late for that now, isn’t it?” you state, but there is no malice or accusation in your voice. You are too tired for that.

Still, Kipps makes a sound like a kicked puppy. When you look over at him, you see him pale and slumped down, like someone who’s taken so many blows that the doesn’t want to stand anymore.

Your grab for his hand and squeeze until he returns your gaze. His pale green eyes look haunted. “I don’t think this is anyone’s fault,” you say. “Least of all yours.”

Kipps purses his lips. You squeeze his hand tighter.

“Maybe,” he allows. He scrubs at his face, eyes flitting over the hardcover books surrounding him. You grow drowsy with every steady ticking of an ornate mantel clock above the fireplace. To your side is a small, mahogany Victorian pedestal table with a leftover cup next to a stack of London Society magazines. “Or maybe I should have been more careful,” he continues. “Be more careful. So this doesn’t happen again.”

The fog of sleep that almost takes you is cleanly cut by his words. You blink against the dizzy feeling that tries to pull you under; dragging you down like wet clothes when you swim. You let go of his hand and sit up. “You are not responsible for me,” you say, unable to keep the heat out of your voice now. It comes back full force, scathing and blazing. “I can look after myself perfectly fine, and I would not have you waste your life away because you think you are obliged to protect me.”

“You could barely fend off that attacker by yourself,” he shoots back—his voice strains to remain diplomatic, calm, but this is Quill Kipps, and he has never been capable of putting the lid on the smouldering fire when it comes to your safety. “I made a promise and I mean to keep it until you’re retired and old and stop getting into danger—”

The rage that always lives inside you rears when he says that ugly word—promise. It is an almost physical pain, like nails against flesh.

“You are not my brother,” you snap. “And I don’t want you to be!”

All colour drains from Kipps’s face, then comes back in a rush of angry red as he tries to keep his anger under control. You know a lot about rage. How hard it could be to rein it in without a lifetime of practice. How it could eat you up inside.

He stands, slowly, calmly—and that is so much worse than when he explodes. This is him in his upset mood that you call ‘scary-calm.’ It is a calm that makes you think of the deceptive hard sheen of ice before it cracks under your weight.

“Quill—” you begin, but he is already moving towards the door.

“If I were Matthew,” he says at the threshold, not looking at you, “I would actually be able to protect you.”

It is a blow not meant to be a blow, and yet it drives through your chest like a poison-tipped spear. It stirs up age-old dust from a past you try to bury so hard that now you choke on it.

Matthew. Mat. Mat is gone because of you. And now Quill leaves you too.

You jump to your feet, ignoring the piercing pain in your side and stumble after him. Kipps disappears down the hall, then you hear the front door open, and slam shut.

You close your eyes and bang your head silently against the doorframe. Beneath your gloves your palms are slick with sweat and your fingers shaking. All day you felt like walking on a tightrope, and now a single misplaced step sends you plunging. You have never felt this alone before.

“Do you do that because you enjoy it, or because it feels good when you stop?” says a drawling voice from the corridor outside.

Your eyes pop open. Lockwood is standing at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the banister with his arms crossed, an amused look on his face. All tousled dark hair and brown eyes as sharp as glass, he is as tall as Kipps, perhaps taller, and lankier. But their presences are quite different. Where Kipps is calm and steady like stone, reliable like the earth that is always solid under your feet, Lockwood seems bright like a flash of lightning—quick-witted, assured in the path he carves as though the mere thought of something standing in his way is so far-off, he just barrels ahead with no regard of what he sets ablaze.

Any retort dies on your lips when he throws something your away, and you catch the first object mid-air, pulling a face when your wound protests. It is cold and heavy—a pack of ice cubes wrapped in a towel. The second thing hits you in the shoulder and clatters to the ground. A package of painkillers. If you would look up the word Oops in the dictionary, you’ll find a picture of Lockwood’s current expression.

You bring the ice pack up and press it against your cheek. “Thanks.”

Lockwood gives a crooked smile. “Plenty of time to figure everything out later. If you need anything, our rooms are just another floor up.”

Your mouth is dry. He isn’t nice because he wants to; he too does it out of an obligation. “OK. Thanks.”

He crams his hands into his pockets, eyes raking from your feet up to your face. It seems as though there is something else Lockwood wants to say, but he decides otherwise and ends up simply nodding before he ducks back towards the kitchen where you can hear the hushed, urgent voices of Lucy and George.

You retreat into the library and shut the door gently. Only the clock’s ticking fills the room now, so loud it is almost grating against your ears. You tug your gloves off gingerly and place them next to the magazines. The skin on your knuckles and the back of your hand is dry like sandpaper. Later this evening, you have to make sure to get your hand lotion.

Ignoring the unpleasant feeling, you lie down and shimmy under the blanket. You tug your hands close to your chest where there is no danger to accidentally touching anything—you know there is no threat from objects belonging to the living, but after almost a decade of experiencing death echoes ranging from mild joy to severe depression, it is soothing to know that the gloves conjure a sense of separation, of safety. Without them, you feel naked and vulnerable.

Just a few hours of sleep. Then you’ll figure out what to do. Maybe you can pretend the whole day didn’t happen—run a few jobs, clean up your room after the attack. Return to normalcy. Return to your day-to-day life before you got roped into Lockwood & Co.’s business and their wayward modus operandi.

You close your eyes and pretend you don’t feel strangely safe listening to the muffled voices coming from the other room.

Something has taken a hold of your legs.

Your stomach roils with panic as you thrash against its grasp, smelling damp soil and rotten leaves—someone is trying to put you under the ground, bury you alive in unholy ground where all hope and virtue is lost, just like—

You jerk free—

—and fall.

The floor is hard and unyielding, slamming you awake on impact. The pain follows right after, radiating from your side to the rest of your body. Groaning, you try to turn to your other side, but with your legs still half-entangled in the blanket, you don’t make it far.

There was a dream. At least you think there was a dream. You can’t remember much, only the smell of rotten soil and copper.

From under the closed door, you see a slim sliver of late afternoon sun peak into the dark room. You lie very still for a moment, even though your back and neck hurt from being curled up on the small couch all night. It is not the foreign place that startles you, but the noises that belong to a lively home: cabinets open and close. Dishes clatter. Water boils. Voices drift through the walls, muffled but heartily warm and bright. It smells of heated butter, herbal tea, and something burnt.

A home. This is a home where people come to wind down after work, to be vulnerable, to pick up the broken pieces after a case.

For just a minute, you close your eyes and imagine this is your life. Your home. This is your room, smelling of books, ink, and candles. Somewhere downstairs a cup smashes into bits, but there is only laughter, bright and cheerful—someone shouts a jolly “Luce!”

You pop your eyes open; the pipe dream dissipates. Your body is a medley of bruises and aches as you get up. Kipps was right, the cut isn’t too deep, you didn’t even bleed through the gauze during the night. You look at the ornate clock hanging above the fireplace. It is past three o’clock. You have to be at Rotwell’s in an hour.

Blinking against the sting in the back of your eyes, you get up and grab your gloves from the small table and your torn, dirty Coat hanging from a chair’s armrest. The fabric stinks of blood and sweat, but there is no time to get back home and change into clean clothes. You can’t get late to work a second time this week.

Your initial plan to just march through the front door and leave doesn’t work out when you pass the open kitchen door. It is a small, cluttered room with a huge table in its centre like a pillar of strength. Several plates with food have been placed down, breakfast served for three people: boiled eggs in cute little eggcups, sandwiches, a fruit bowl, some hot, greasy sausages just out of the pan. There is flatbread and right beside it a plate with small bites like fruits, walnuts, sliced cucumber and radishes.

The agents of Lockwood & Co. coordinate around each other in a way that seems like a practised dance—Lucy swiftly dodges George carrying a plate with doughnuts while Lockwood steps out of her way striding towards the water kettle without even looking.

When she pauses and says something to him, he does that thing you find annoyingly attractive in men: since he’s much taller than Lucy, Lockwood leans down and tilts his head towards her to hear her better. He has a striking side profile, all sharp lines and elegant curves, a pointed jaw.

You see him smile, and grow increasingly annoyed at how effortlessly handsome he is.

George clears his throat, and then all three are staring at you standing in the doorway.

Lockwood’s mouth twitches into a smile. “Hiya.”

Lucy’s mouth twitches into something that hasn’t decided yet if it wants to be a smile or a scowl.

George notices you looking at the food on the table and promptly says, “We don’t own enough dishes for another person.” He calmly closes the cupboard behind him where you see another stack of plates and cups.

“Wasn’t interested. I’m not much into burnt toast,” you say like a liar. George huffs in offence. “I have to go anyway. Work and all that.”

Three heads nod at the same time, a conjoined Hydra.

Remembering you have something like manners, you quickly add, “And thanks for letting me stay.” That should be enough pleasantries. You hastily make your escape through the front door and manage two steps downstairs before you hear footsteps behind you.

“One more thing,” Lockwood says, propping himself against the doorfrome. You wonder if he owns any other piece of clothing other than his white shirts and ties. “Regardless however we proceed with our case, it would be to both our benefits to work out an association. There is no harm in having friends in established circles.” He puts on a smile, one you recognise from meeting him for the first time. Charming, but bashful, he plays coy to try and pull you around his little finger.

So this is how he wants to play it.

You slip into your jacket and smooth down the fabric to appear at least somewhat dignified. “We are not friends, Tony,” you say, and notice with some satisfaction the tick in his jaw whenever someone uses that nickname. “And frankly, if our paths don’t cross anytime soon, I wouldn’t mind. Now, if you excuse me—“ well aware of the ectoplasm stink and the tears in your jacket, you push your shoulder blades together— “we at Rotwell are quite busy with actually solving the Problem instead of playing detective games.”

With a confidence you don’t feel at all, you grant Lockwood one of your sly grins, your usual selling argument whenever you’re wearing your Rotwell armour. Lockwood’s face remains impassive. When you turn, heading out to the main street to get a cab, you feel his eyes burying like a dagger into your gut. In the distance, a church bell rings on the quarter hour, and you try and remember the poem about the bell tolling.

A/N: I cheated a little, the Rotwell dormitories are pretty much the Auriens Chelsea apartment complex. I'll upload a masterlist for this sometime this week to keep things a little more organised.

Taglist: @helpmelmao, @simrah1012, @chloejaniceeee, @fox-bee926, @frogserotonin, @obsessed-female, @avelinageorge, @quacksonhq, @wordsarelife, @bilesxbilinskixlahey, @che-che1, @breadbrobin, @anxiousbeech, @charmingpatronus, @starcrossedluvr, @yourunstablegf, @grccies, @sisyphusmymuse

(Just a heads up, if I can't tag you, it might be because of your settings)

#lockwood show #lockwood books #lockwood & co #l&c #lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x you #lockwood x y/n #lockwood netflix #lockwood and co #lockwood reader insert #l&c reader insert

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meryldian · 10 months

Note

omg love your writing its so GOOD

do you think you could do some more headcanons about growing up with devilsh

np if you cant have a good day or night ❤

★ Growing up with Devilish & Being Tokio Hotel’s 5th member ★ pt.2

AN: I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE !!

I decided to merge the requests because they overlap with one another and simply work. I hope this satisfies you !! I’m writing this as a part 2 to my first « Growing up with Devilish/Tokio Hotel » post since it just works!

Warning! Underage drinking and Smoking,sexual themes touched non explicitly, that’s about it. Friendly reminder it’s Tokio Hotel we’re talking about

≛ This is set in 2003 til 2005 right before the release of ddm as it deserves it’s own post.

~ Enjoy your read ~ (not proof read I’m sorry I had to get smth out of the drafts)

Bill was so excited to land that Starsearch audition, he came running to your house once he got the confirmation.

It’s 8pm on a school day and there’s a frantic Bill knocking at your door.

Or window, if it happens to be on the first floor.

I love the idea of your room being on the first floor, that way the boys can sneak in for silly night-ins discussing about the future of your band or watching some disney movies on your VHS player.

Or sometimes you’d sneak in beer, weed, all that good stuff that 12/13 year olds should not be doing but you did it anyway.

Your bedroom was a hideout and safe place, especially for Bill who found so much comfort in you.

The days following to Bill’s audition were spent practising his singing and putting up a killer outfit that would shock everyone.

Not many people had faith in him, but I’m sure you were certain he’d make it.

So when a letter got home after a few weeks saying that he was amongst the best 16 in the country, you sticked out your tongue and middle finger up to the other 3 boys. “I told you so”

When it came the time to interview the band for Bill’s section of the show, you guys knew you’d have to be your best.

Bill helped out picking your outfits for sure. You needed to look cool for the camera. Maybe this would be a breakthrough moment?

You even got to do Georg’s hair, much to his annoyance.

It felt glorious, there was a television team in Loitsche and it was just for you guys. You were the kings of the town for a few hours.

Charlotte, the twins’s mom allows you to come with her to the show. You were so excited to see Bill onstage! (The fandom knew Mami Kaulitz as Simone but she legally deleted that name and only kept Charlotte) (from now on I’ll only refer to her as Mami Kaulitz though)

Once Bill came on stage you knew he was meant to be there, and you dreamed for your band to be able to shine like this by his side.

You were clapping and singing along so happily, the crowd loved him.

The same can’t be said about one particular judge.

When Bill lost he came running into your arms. Poor boy was destroyed. You only had a couple minutes to gather his things and leave so while his grandma comforted him you helped out Mami Kaulitz at getting everything together.

Standing awkwardly by a crying Bill, his grandma and a bunch of strangers while waiting for his mom to finish talking to the host is definitely not your best memory.

Needless to say the ride back home was silent.

Everyone was so proud of Bill nonetheless.

In the following weeks you guys mostly practiced your melodies with the band and tried out new riffs. Bill was quite depressed and refused to get out of his house.

Not even a new outfit, new song or a cool Barbie doll could convince him to get out.

You would physically have to get in and drag him out of bed by his ankles.

Once you yanked him too hard and he fell right on his butt, knocking his head while at it. Tom was wheezing in the back while you tried to help Bill up, avoiding to burst at his misery.

Bill has always been arrogant, so the loss on Starsearch was a big bruise to his ego. You would have to help him rebuild his self-esteem.

Dressing him up prettily and doing his makeup.

Bill would imitate your makeup techniques, he finds you fascinating.

This is how his iconic black eyeshadow look was born.

Overtime it all got better and you guys went back to the routine.

In a way, you’re the glue that sticks everyone together in the band. For sure you’d be a pillar the boys rely on.

Whenever things don’t seem to go the right way you tend to climb on the rooftop and just talk the night away with Georg. You two can have the longest and brightest (sometimes not so) conversations man has known.

Back to the “storyline” Starsearch was not useless in the slightest. Bill’s voice, the band’s rogue look in the interview and the angelic beauty of one of it’s members caught a talent scout’s attention.

Sometime between 2002 and 3 you guys had recorded your Devilish demo, that along with Bill’s appearance in the show had gained you some newfound popularity in town.

Things were still hard but, at least they knew those five losers had talent.

It was a hard and exhausting process til you guys finally signed with Universal. But! Before you could record an album, you all needed some proper training. So during the summer holidays you were accommodated into an apartment with everything you may need.

Now imagine an apartment with 5 young teens living by themselves.

Gustav was in charge of the cooking because if anyone else touched the kitchen you would burn the place down.

Tom has managed to burn water. Do not trust him.

We all know Gustav is a total chef now, but back then let’s be honest.. he could make instant ramen noodles and sandwiches. So most of the time you guys settled on ordering junk.

You guys had sleeping arrangements but it never stopped you from all ending in one room playing video games til the late hours of the night or drinking til you passed out.

Nowadays you guys sometimes cringe at everything you were doing at such a young age.

Parties were strictly forbidden in the apartment so you would all sneak to the nearest park to raise hell. There were no parents to run after you and barely any surveillance around. You guys were free.

You once got so wasted that on the way back home Georg crashed somebody’s window. You still wonder how you never got caught.

There were nights that the place would get so cold that you all ended up as a pile when it came time to sleep.

You didn’t stay like that all night though. You’d wake up coddled against Tom’s leg on the floor as he took up the entire couch. Georg was sprawled on the bed, Gustav rested on an armchair somewhere and Bill made himself a blanket cocoon.

Bill and you still have a very special friendship, so some nights you would both get into the blanket cocoon in the living room and watch some vhs tapes of Nena, Queen and Bowie’s concerts.

Oh and Titanic, for sure. Bill loves the film.

He confessed to you that he was crushing on both Rose and Jack (Bill actually said this)

If you happen to also be in the lgbtq community, you’re in for a queer ride when watching films with Bill.

ESPECIALLY, Labyrinth.

You washed Georg’s hair in the sink once. You never talk about it.

The five of you are oddly comfortable around one another so there was no shame in that.

Nor in walking around barely dressed, making the grossest jokes and acts and being complete degenerates.

The fact Bill mentioned in his book that they’d collectively jack off still haunts me to this day.

You just let them be.

Or join if you’re drunk enough, you be you bestie.

You’re not excluded from the after hour porn binge watching though, that’s like watching the news for you bunch of hormonal brats.

Anything totally inappropriate for your age aside, the five of you have such a beautiful bond. It’s amazing to watch you go.

Of course the twins are a step ahead, but it doesn’t change the fact that as a band and as friends you’re so connected to one another.

You can have more than one soulmate, and the five of you are linked together for sure.

Ok i’m being cheesy.

I’m sorry but Tom was the type to ask you to make out to “practice”

He likes to snatch your bras (if you wear them) and mock you while holding it against his chest.

“Georg next time you take a big shit open the windows and spray there’s a lady living in here” “Look I’m y/n and i’m the best musician in this band” “Pull up your pants you looser”

In return, you have hit him with a bra. How is you weaponize it? I have no idea but you certainly did.

Gustav and you were always the ones to do groceries because if you let the other ones do it, they would come back with anything BUT groceries.

A new turtle for georg, king sized box of condoms, cigarettes, a kiss the cook apron, supposedly haunted doll they found in the trash and a pack of hot wheels toys.

Gustav might be the dad yet it doesn’t take his chaos away from him. He chased you guys around the apartment with a water gun screaming like a madman.

He drums on bowls while cooking it’s cute.

You genuinely had the time of your lives.

But you can’t forget that you were located there for a reason.

Writing music.

Turning this into a series! I’m honestly way too into this idea not to cover the band’s evolution in it’s entirety. The inclusion of this fifth member is genuinely very fun to write and brainstorm about! I’ll mostly write them as the rhythm guitarist as it’s logically the easiest position to sneak into the band. As well as I must say that I am definitely more comfortable writing afab readers but no worries I can and certainly will do male reader <3

See you ~

- Meryl <3

#tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x reader #georg listing x reader #gustav schafer x reader #gustav schaefer #x reader #alien #tokita #tokio hotel imagines #tokio hotel alien

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soapyghost · 1 year

Text

Sparks

Firefighter Price x Fem! Reader

I honest to god did not expect this to get the love it did?? So thank you??? I’m blown away. Also this chapters kindaaa short- and its the epitome of slow burn and I am not sorry. It will get more- angsty soon ehehe. Also I did my best to try and remember everyone who wanted to be added to the tag list and I am so sorry if I forgot anyone! Let me know if you want/ed to be added!

Warnings: hinting at a super gross manager being gross - Mostly fluff. Swearing. Character developments babyyyy

Taglist: @330bpm-whiplash @blueoorchid @deadbranch @sofasoap @c0wb0yenthusiast @emmmmmmmaaaaaaaaaaa @fruitymoonbeams-blog @averyyreads @lostmypopsicle @jxvipike @moonlighting87 @amatis-gray

A week had passed since the fire in your apartment complex. It had taken a couple days before you were able to go back to your apartment to search for any belongings that may have survived. Luckily your phone somehow managed to survive the inferno, lord knows you didn’t have the money to replace it.

After about 2 days of staying at the hotel, your best friend April was generous enough to let you stay on her couch until you could get enough money scraped together for a deposit on a new place. As nice as the hotel was, you felt terrible about the possibility of racking up a bill for Price. No matter how much you begged the receptionist she would not let you pay a dime for the room, stating that John had given her strict rules to not let you.

The images you managed to squirrel away in your mind of the egnima known as John Price would not stay hidden back there. You weren’t ready for a relationship- not after your ex. And yet, you still woke up every morning in his jacket, the smell of him was vaguely noticeable underneath the overpower scent of smoke.

You had just moved out of your ex boyfriends house and into your apartment, on the opposite side of the state. Well, your ex apartment now. The idea of having to start all over brought tears to your eyes. You had been here less than a month and already things were turning into a shit show.

Today was your first day back at work after the fire, your new manager, Sheppard or Shep for short, was surprisingly kind about the situation. He completely understood and let you take some time off to get your things together. You didn’t understand why the other waitstaff disliked him so much. They always whispered about how cruel, rude and dirty Shep was.

As you rushed into the restaraunt to start your first shift back you were taken aback to see none other than John Price and the entire crew. As you made your way passed his table your eyes locked- and that perfect smile crept upon his face. His smile felt like rays of sunshine. Like a breeze on a summer day.

“Well if it isn’t Y/N” Price bellows, drawing the attention of the whole restaraunt to you. Soap looked at you and waved, “glad to see you alive lass!” You smiled weakly back at him before glancing over to the paramedic who wrapped your hand. “Hows that hand looking” he asked, nodding at your right hand which was now bandage free.

“It’s much better. Thanks” you say, holding it up breifly. You’re positive your face is about as red as the tomatoes on the omelet Soap had infront of him. Your blood runs a cold as your eyes glance over the party and see the man in the balaclava- except this time it has a skull on it.

Who the hell wears that out in public! A shiver runs through you and Price seems to notice. “So Y/N what brings you here” he says, taking your attention away from his terrifying counterpart. “Oh uhm well. I work here” you reply, ”and if I don’t get back to clock in I might not have one much longer. But I’ll be back out!” “Good. Because you haven’t been properly introduced to the 141 house” he beams, gesturing at the men at the table with him.

With that you slip through the kitchen door and back towards the lockers. You press your forehead onto them to help cool your face down so maybe it won’t give away your embarassment. Why is he here? Does he know you still have his jacket? Oh fuck.

“You alright Y/N?” Sheps voice booms, pulling you from your daze. He drops a hand on your shoulder and looks down at you with concern in his eyes. “Yeah yeah. Sorry. I just.” You sigh, trying to collect your thoughts. Did you really want to trauma dump on your boss? His hand raises to cup your cheek, causing you to flinch.

“That crew was the one who saved me from the fire” you say, turning your face away from his hand. Something flickers in his eyes, just for a second, anger? Jealousy? Rage? You’re not sure what it is but before you can place it his eyes change back to concern. “Oh. Well. What a coincidence!” He forces a chuckle and a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll see you out on the floor in 5” he states, before turning curtly and walking out.

You blink a bit, startled by his sudden change, the rumors about him being a piece of shit seemed a lot more plausible now. Shaking your head, you open your locker and stuff your purse in it before throwing up your hair into a ponytail and heading back out to the front.

Lucky for you, the 141 were not in your section today. But that didn’t stop you from stealing glances over at their table in between taking care of your own guests. When you had finally taken care of your section, you decided to venture over to be introduced to the whole “squad”.

“Hey yall didn’t have to wait for me guys” you say, noticing the empty plates.

You sauntered over, catching the Captians eye before flashing a small smile, “sorry for making you wait boys” you say, noticing they had long since finished their breakfast. “Oh luv’, you ain’t gotta apologize to these muppets” Price replies, his accent thick. “Hey who you callin’ a muppet, Cap?” Gaz questions, his eyebrows furrowed in mock anger.

Price laughs and you swear that must be what heaven sounds like. “But I wanted to introduce you to everyone. That as you already know, is Gaz. Best paramedic this side o’ the town” he says, voice full of pride. “That shaggy man is Soap. Don’t ask” he quips, before you could even open your mouth. “Strange name for a strange guy” you giggle. Soap brings his hand up to his chest feigning pain, Price let’s put a small chuckle at that. “Those two are Alejandro and Rudy. They keep us well fed at the house and are pretty decent at their jobs” John says, gesturing to the two men at the other side of the table from him. Both men wave and flash you big smiles. “And this,” he says, gesturing to the terrifying man in the skull balaclava, “this is Ghost.”

Ghost simply grunts, “can we go now captian. We have shit to do” and begins to stand. “Ghost. You need to learn to relax once ‘n a while.” Price reprimands him. Before you have a chance to say anything or greet the team, Sheppard voice booms, “Y/N what are you doing? Get back to your section”. You whip your head around to see the face of your extremely angry boss.

“Shep, cut her some slack eh?” Price retorts, his face contorting into anger. What happened between the two of them? “No no he’s right” you smile weakly, trying to alleviate the obvious tension in the room. “Go Y/N” Shep says, before coming up behind you and putting his hand on your lower back and pivoting you away from the table.

“Sheppard. You don’t need to move her” Johns voice rises slightly, “she was going”. The temperature in the room was rising. “Boys it’s fine. Really. I’ll see you around yeah?” You say, voice quaking. “Of course luv” Prices says, relaxing slightly, “Cmon boys. We have shit to do back at the house.”

At this, the 141 house gathers their stuff and begins heading towards the door. Price and Sheppard exchange a death stare from across the room, causing goosebumps to form all over you. Now you had to know what happened between them.

You smile, feeling your heart slam in your chest at the thought of them leaving. Would you ever see them again? This is stupid. Just because John Price saved you from a burning building doesn’t mean he wants anything else to do with you. It’s his job. Just like it’s your job to serve them food. “Alright boys, you have a good rest of your day alright?” You say sweetly. Desperately trying to cover up how nervous you are.

The boys all give you a wave goodbye as they head out the door. John flashing you a smile before saying “it was good to see ya again, Y/N”. Now your heart feels like it’s about to smash through your ribs, he’s glad? To see you? You nearly melt as you whisper “you too John”. His eyes crinkle as his smile widens ever so slightly before heading out the door.

Seeing the boys climb into the fire truck and head out of the parking lot you felt a bit giddy. It wouldn't be the last you would see of John Price, if he knew your manager it had to mean he frequented your restaurant. A small smile crept on your face at the thought, but it was quickly wiped away by the shouting of Sheppard telling you to stop standing around.

You return to their table to help your coworker clean it up when you see it. Written on the back of the receipt in probably the worst handwriting you’ve ever seen, was a phone number and a simple message:

"Incase you ever want to return that jacket- John Price"

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