ATKF verse
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Ex-sex worker Angel is freshly out from under Valentino's unethical contract, and picks up a job at a local coffee shop, Hot-as-Hell. Managed by Alastor the unanimously suspected serial killer, and staffed by broke college student Charlie and company, the shop is known for exotic blends that start fires in the hearts (and stomachs) of loyal customers.
Recovering alcoholic Husk is looking for a quick caffeine fix, switching to coffee in a attempt to trick himself into sobriety. However, he might find more than what he originally planned.
(Your basic coffee shop human AU, with a side of possible eldritch horror Alastor because I think it's funny. Completed 7/17)
Series
- Part 1 of ATKF verse
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If the pain wasn’t so bad today, Angel might roll over and ignore him until he forgot all about it. But it is, and he hates how that makes him weak; breaks down his resolve as his body screams for comfort. It’s awful. It’s humiliating.
“It hurts,” Angel admits, breathing the words out, at a loss for any others. He buries his face in Husk’s chest so he doesn’t have to look at him, inhaling the scent of cologne and salt and day-old linen.
“What hurts, caro?”
Series
- Part 2 of ATKF verse
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Val didn't start out awful. And Angel lingered there in the illusion of sweetness, sifting out the parts he didn't like until nothing bitter was left. If he could dream it up to stifle the pain, he could believe it. He'd always been good at making a pretty picture.
Years later, Husk kisses him slow in a cramped apartment bathroom and hopes that someday it'll be enough.
Series
- Part 3 of ATKF verse
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When morning rolls around, he finds the box of cigarettes, still sitting by the ashtray on the balcony while Angel’s in the kitchen getting coffee. There are other things, too – a purple toothbrush slotted into the holder in the bathroom, stray hairclips scattered on the counter, a bottle of Watermelon Wave conditioner left on the edge of the tub.
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Or: Angel moves in, piece by piece.
Series
- Part 4 of ATKF verse
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He doesn’t tell Husk all of that, because he’s sure he already knows. Instead, he unfolds Husk’s palm and laces their fingers tightly together, two of Angel’s pale hands clasped like a wall around one of Husk’s. Keeping the warmth in and everything else out.
“I’m always proud of you,” he settles for, both because it’s the truth and it sounds just like something Husk would say.
Series
- Part 5 of ATKF verse
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Angel lifts his head and shakes out his hair. Then he leans forward, pushes Husk up against the driver’s side window until he can feel the door handle pressing lines into his back.
“No one’s gonna see,” he breathes, his lips inches from Husk’s, the sheen of gloss smudged in a line at the corner of his mouth. His shirt is crumpled where Husk’s hands had wandered, his skirt ridden almost all the way up his thighs – Husk loves it when he comes apart like this. He’s never been a man of strong will; if he were, he wouldn’t be an alcoholic, a gambler, a lovesick fool.
Series
- Part 6 of ATKF verse
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“Noooo,” Angel whines, his arms slipping clumsily around Husk’s neck. “I’m so sober. I’m like a rock. A sober rock.”
“You got that right,” Husk huffs, hoisting Angel up with an arm under his legs. “How many times have I had to carry you to the door now?”
Angel’s face is lightly flushed, the slit along the side of his dress riding up to reveal a pale thigh. He presses his cheek to Husk’s, and it’s so warm, so tender a touch. Husk could get drunk off of him, the lingering scent of vanilla in his hair and the way his throat bobs when he swallows. Every part of him is vivid, gorgeous, delicate. And every time reminds him of the first.
Series
- Part 7 of ATKF verse