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spidybaby · 10 months

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Pleasee we need a “Begin again” oneshot where polo meets Gavi and the rest of the team 😩🙏

"Okay, gordo, we're here." Pedro says, taking him out of the car seat.

The team was having a little father/daughter or father/son activity today, they ask the fathers to bring their kids.

The majority of the team found out by an instagram post that he made. But his friends like Ferran and Gavi knew before anyone.

Ferran was the only one who met Polo before the announcement. Something that Gavi didn't like was that he couldn't meet him before, even when he was the one who told Pedro about your return to Barcelona and gave you his number.

Xavi also knew before anybody else. He and the higher-ups of the club.

Polo was in a very good mood today, thinking that was great, considering he just had a cold and was in a very mad mood all day these past days.

"Hoy te daré un tour por donde juega papi." (Today I'm giving you a tour of the stadium where daddy plays)

"Papa"

"Yes, mi amor, and you're meeting some of my teammates, maybe some friends for you."

Pedro was one of the first ones to arrive. Xavi and him made conversation. He was happy with him because he stayed, Xavier knows that he is a very important player for them.

"Es que ya veo al futuro número ocho." (I can see the future number 8) Xavi jokes. "I don't know about your girlfriend, but I can only see you in him."

"My mother says the same thing." He laughs. "But I think he's going to change, I used to look like my dad, and now I look like my mother."

"I can relate. My son used to look like me, and now he's all my wife." Xavi points at his son. "I can't even believe I met you when you were a child, and now we are talking about our kids."

Pedro laughs, remembering how young he was, believing that being coached by Xavi was the best thing ever. And it was.

"Dios mio, mira esos cachetes." (My God, look at those cheeks) Ferran says, hugging Pedro carefully. "Hi beautiful boy, you're so big."

"He's heavier too." Xavi jokes.

"Gavi is so excited to meet Polo. He was so mad at me when I posted the picture to my WhatsApp."

"Macho, estaba enojado a más no poder, me tuvo bloqueado por varios días." (Man, he was mad as fuck, he blocked me for a few days)

"Who had you blocked?" Gavi ask, eyes fixed on his phone. "Man, this place is going to smell like dirty diaper and cheese."

"You heard that Polo?" Xavi says serious, "Tío Pablo dice que le caga que llegaras a oler a pañal cagado y a queso." (Uncle Pablo says he hates that you'll smell like dirty diaper and cheese)

The way Pablo lifts his head from the screen makes everyone laugh.

Xavi passed Polo back to his father. Pedro points to another room for Pablo to follow him.

"Polito, hijo mío, this is Pablo, he's your uncle, yes a piece of-"

"Don't say that González." Pablo quickly covers his friends mouth. "Introduce me nicely."

"This is Uncle Pablo. He's a little piece of mind, but it turns out to be one of the best people I have ever met."

Pablo has his eyes on the boy. He's so like Pedro, but he can definitely see some of you.

"Puedo cargarlo?" (Can I hold him?) He ask excited.

"I don't know." Pedro laughs. "Polo, do you want Uncle Pablo to hold you?"

Polo smiled at Pablo. He has his hands out, ready to hold him.

"Vente, I want to see if your uncle Fernando is right about you being a little rock."

Polo extends his arms to Pablo, and he didn't miss a second to take him.

"Joder, si que eres lindo, y eso que este de acá." He points at Pedro. "Es tu papá." (Fuck, you're really beautiful, and that on this man being your father)

Pedro couldn't help but laugh at how his friend is talking to the child about how thanks to him, his parents are now together.

"Venga, vamos afuera que ya va a empezar." (C'mon, let's go outside. This almost begins) Pedro tries to take his son from Pablo, but this one walks away with him as if it's his own. Still talking to him about different things.

"Hey guys" Frenkie shouts, he was so excited for this day, even tho he's not a father himself, he loves kids, they're funny, cute and he loves hugs and kids love giving hugs. Perfect day for him. "Pablo? Do you have a son?" He asks, confused.

Before Pablo could answer, Pedro and Ferran say yes. Even giving him the diaper bag.

"I'm a father now, right Pablito Jr?"

"God, I hate that name." Ferran laughs.

"You're just jealous because Pablo Jr. and I are going to have an amazing day today." He says, sticking his tongue out as he walks to the field where the other players and their kids are.

"Did he just stole your son?" Xavi asks, watching the way Pablo is showing Polo around.

"Yes."

"Joder, that kid is crazy. Let him try to change a diaper, and he'll give the baby back so quickly."

Pedro laughs at the idea, but he can't lie that the way Pablo's bragging about his kid is adorable.

And he was kind of right, without him finding you at the grocery store and giving you his number. It would've taken more time than necessary for you two to reconnect.

"Pedro," Ansu calls, waving at him to come. He recently welcomed his firstborn to the world. So it was the first time they met the baby. "Where's your kid?"

With his eyebrows, he points towards Pablo. He and Raphinha are talking, both with kids that aren't theirs.

"Don't worry, once they start fussing, they're getting them back." He laughs, "This is Mike, he's my son."

"We're getting a new player in a few years." He says, taking the kid in his hands. Before Polo, he would have denied holding any babies, too scared to drop them or something. But after Polo, he was confident in himself. "Epa, he's really cute."

"He's a pain in the ass at night, but I wouldn't change a thing." They laugh, knowing what it is, Ansu more than him.

The activity begins, it was a fun recreational event. More focused on the bigger kids, but they included all the kids with all kind of activities.

"Pedro." Pablo hurries to his side. "I think he pooped."

"I don't know, man, that's Pablo Jr Paez, not Polo González." He turns and walks away slowly, knowing Pablo is panicking.

"Pedro." He cries. "I can't do this, I'm a kid."

"A what now?" He can't believe the scare face his friend has. It's comical. "I thought you were saying that's your kid."

"Es que," he tries to think of an excuse that's good enough. "I'm a kid."

Pedro can't keep with his joke since the face his kid has is a panicked one, he's uncomfortable and he knows it.

"Come here, precioso mio." He hugs Polo carefully, not wanting to smear the situation in his diaper. "Want to come with me?"

Pablo makes this funny face, saying no with his head. "But when you're done, I want him back, I really like holding him"

"Adiós." He says, waving his hand, walking to the bathroom. Lucky for him, Frenkie was there. "Hey man, are you done playing with the kids?"

"No, but Ansu wanted me to hold his baby, and I was nervous."

"So you hide in the bathroom?" He raised his eyebrow. "Why not just say no?"

"No, I hold him, but I almost drop him, so I'm done for the day."

"It's okay, that happens, just don't hold more babies for the day, and if you do, make sure to do it slowly."

Frenkie and him stayed there. He changed the diaper, and Frenkie told him about the things some kids told him.

The activities continued, and they all had a nice time. The club gave them some gifts for this fathers/kid Day, it was a funny experience.

"I got a bag." Pablo says happy, "and I got a lollipop." He lifts the gift with his free hand, proud of it.

"Why did you get a gift, and I didn't." Ferran ask confused, he tried to stole a gift, but he couldn't.

"Paula has a crush on me." He laughs, knowing that everyone in the club is aware that he's single and with no kids. But Paula saw him with the baby in his arms and gave him the bag without question.

"Asshole."

"You're just jealous."

"Okay," Pedro interrupted. They all got to their cars, coincidentally they're parked next to each other. "Give me my son, and go home with your gift."

"Adiós, Pablito Jr." He kisses the baby multiple times, Polo is laughing, loving the attention. "I want to take you home, but I can't even change you, so I'll come see you."

"You can come anytime." Pedro pats his back. Pablo and Ferran never needed an invitation for them to go to his house, and he didn't need an invitation to go to their houses. "Polito loves the attention, and you need a distraction from the videogames."

"Papa." Polo does grabby hands to Pedro, done with Pablo's arms. The two boys are in awe from this, Pedro is an amazing father, and they know it.

"No, but I'm serious. You both can come at any time." He shakes both the boys' hands. Polo also waved them goodbye, something Fernando taught him to do. Making both Pablo and Ferran almost scream in excitement.

When he arrived home, he bathed the baby, ready for his nap. After all, it was a good day for him.

"Hola hola," you greet, walking in with your work bag. "How was it?" You kiss Pedro hello, then kiss Polo, who was almost passed out with the way he's being swayed and the milk he's almost done with.

"It was good, Pablo told everyone that he was Pablo Jr., and Ansu has a babyboy. Remember me to send something to him."

"I'm not surprised with Pablo, I mean, he even sent me an audio mad when we didn't tell him first." You laugh, happy for your boys, mostly because Pedro is starting to become more secure about Polo being public and trusting himself with him outside.

"Yeah, crazy. Also, Xavi says -"

The doorbell interrupted him, and you go check who it is, laughing when you see who's at the door.

"Come in." You step aside for Pablo to come in. "I heard you have a kid now."

"Oh stop, but I got a gift from saying that."

Pablo walks in happy, gifts in hand. "I bought this when Pedro told me, well, Ferran announced it to me." He says, bittery joking tone. "But I wanted to drop it."

"Pablito," you hug him, Pablo, and you always had this special connection. He trusted you like nobody else, always asking you for advice, for help. He was like a little brother to you. Just like with Pedro, they had this relationship since the beginning. "Te quiero mucho."

The evening was good, Pablo and Pedro talked about future matches. He even learned how yo change a diaper when Polo woke up.

I guess we all can say that Pablo has baby fever thanks to your kid.

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freshtoes · 8 months

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another fluff before the like 4 smuts I’ve got lined up. for me. excuse the Google translate Spanish I wrote this whole thing in one sitting

You’ve Got Me

Hurt/comfort

Miguel/Afab! Reader(no gendered pronouns or (Y/N), reader has a uterus)

You felt stupid. You knew you shouldn’t, this was fully a roll-the-dice, cross-your-fingers-and-hope-Lady-Luck-is-on-your-side thing, but you couldn’t help it. After all, the only real safety measure to not get pregnant is to not have sex at all.

You were lonely, sue me, was the thought. Anyone would’ve done the same thing. It’s not your fault the guy was a pump-and-dump either, he hasn’t returned any of your messages since that night. It sucks because you really liked him, he was so sweet that whole night and it’s like the second you got out of his car, you weren’t a person anymore. You should’ve known, he wouldn’t even kiss you.

You were hurt. You felt even more hurt staring down at the positive test two weeks after. You can’t help but feel your heart in your throat when you read it.

Of course, the universe has its way of doing these funny, silly, downright infuriating things, and just at that moment, your fancy-dancy-I’m-gonna-chuck-this-thing-at-the-wall watch went off.

Urgent meeting with Miguel O’Hara— Report ASAP.

You groaned, dropping your upper body so you were slumped past your knees on the toilet. As soon as you were able, you gathered yourself up, pushing your emotions down to your feet, and walked on them as you made your way to put on your suit.

It’s a temporary fix; and it feels like broken glass every step.

——————————

In any other situation you’d commend yourself on your ability to not snark at or prod Miguel, it was just too easy to do. But now you just didn’t have the energy. It was gone, not even three cups of the water the HQ called coffee could bring it up, now you just jittered, trembling slightly. You hoped he was far enough away you couldn’t tell, and that he didn’t ask questions that’d bring out your wavering voice.

On the other hand, it also seemed your lack of response was making him more infuriated. Going on about this thing and that and gesturing broadly, but clearly seeing his words go in one ear and out the other. He thought you just weren’t paying attention, making him feel hot with anger behind his eyes. That’s when he jumped down from that stupid lift, sauntering up in front of you with a hard look and scowl.

“You got a good explanation for why you’re not listening right now?” He said it in a low voice, and by the jump you gave him when you heard it, you didn’t even notice him approaching. He scoffed, “No puedo más, esto es ridículo.”

That’s when you looked up, and the look you gave him was a hard punch in the gut. Your eyes were red, glossy and all the eyelashes were stuck. Your face was wet all over, like you’d been trying to wipe tears away but they would just keep coming. You were biting so hard into your lips and cheek he was surprised you didn’t have blood on them.

Worst of all, you didn’t look angry. You just looked…

Wounded.

“I—I,” you started, feeling your voice fail you as you tried to find the words, “I’m sorry— Miguel.”

“Hey, hey,” His tone was much softer now as your gaze dropped, “¿Que paso…?”

And then the dam broke.

You were immediately shaken by a sob, a full body convulsion that sounded painful, your hands shooting up to hide your face from him. You shook your head, hard, you couldn’t even find the words to tell him.

How could you? He’s Miguel. He doesn’t do mistakes or accidents and he certainly doesn’t understand when someone else does either. He’d probably blame it on you, or tell you how stupid you are, or, or—

You felt large hands grab at your shoulders, before moving to wrap tightly around you, and before you knew it, Miguel had you enveloped in a tight hug, holding you to his chest as you shook and sobbed into him. Only then did your hands come down to grip at the back of his spider suit, not wanting to let go no matter how the delicate tech under your fingers protested it.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry,” He started, his head resting on yours, “I-I didn’t think you’d— cry—“

He felt your head shake in its spot smushed to his chest, “No, no, it’s not that.”

You sniffed hard, taking a deep breath and steadying yourself before looking up at him. His face was contorted into so much worry you’d have though your eyes were hanging out of your head.

“Then… what’s with—?”

“I-I’m pregnant,” you said, like it was the hardest words in the world to say, “And—and I’m really scared. I took all the precautions I needed to, he got me Plan B, he wore a condom, and-and they didn’t work and the guy dumped me the second he was able to, and I really liked him so it just sucks, and I’m tired, and I’m lonely, and I’m— and I’m so sick of being the only one that takes care of me, as if I don’t have enough being spiderman, and—and fighting inter-dimensional bullshit—!”

“Shhhhh, hey, hey hey,” Miguel’s voice was like a blanket as he pulled you back into him, stroking at your hair as he did, “Estarás bien, confía en mí. I’ll make sure of it.”

You looked at him in surprise, wiping your nose on your suit sleeve, “Re—really? You do that for me…?”

He nods, “This isn’t something you do alone. And it’s not your fault, these things are a two person effort after all. And that guy— él no lo vale. He’s not even the shit on your shoe from now on.”

You laughed at that, soft and pitifully, but Miguel could’ve seen heaven in it if he looked hard enough. Miguel swallowed, closing his eyes as he weighed his words in his mind. He needed to pick them carefully, he knew that, you were delicate right now and he needed to respect that, digging up all the bedside manner he could surface from when he was a genetics undergrad. Knowledge wise, at least, he knew he’d be the best option for you to talk to, but emotionally you’d be better talking to a rock.

“Whatever you want to do,” he said, cupping under your face to look up at him, “I’ll help you. And I do mean whatever you decide because it’s your choice.”

You sighed deep, feeling as if the weight you’d been carrying was finally off your shoulders as you sank so far into Miguel, his hand and his arm and his chest. “Thank you, Miguel. You’re— you’re really sweet.”

He shook his head, “Well, I don’t know about…. Is there anything else you need? Anything I can do in this moment?”

You looked up at him, racking your brain for anything, anything but the thing that came to mind. When nothing popped up, you went with your impulse.

“Could you please… hold me? Just like this, for a little while?”

Miguel could feel himself melting at the plea you gave, how clearly starved for affection you felt and in that moment he doesn’t think he’s wanted to truly kill another man more. He would do anything to make sure you never cry or sound like that again. So he nodded.

“I’ll hold you forever if thats what you want. Me tienes.”

#hurt/comfort #fluff #agnst #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #x reader fanfiction #afab reader #miguel o’hara x reader

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alohastyles-x · 1 year

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Campaignin' - e.m.

notes: this is my first fic in a while so be nice, haha. Yes I'm still stuck in my hyper fixation of stranger things. Marvel just isn't hitting me the same anymore tbh. I love my Druig baby, but man I need more inspiration for him. :((( anyways I hope you all enjoy!

Wordcount: 1.5k - a short little thing

request: "it's an eddie x fem reader Eddie introduces reader to hellfire and she's instantly inspired to start playing with him so he takes her to one of his campaigns and she actualy really enjoys playing with his campaign members and they have a lot of fun playing. After the campaign eddie and reader head home and relax in each other's arms till they fall asleep" by @eddiemunsonsupremecy ; hope you enjoy babes! sorry this took so long

disclaimer- i know nothing about d&d so ... lol there is probably inaccuracies.

Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist |

A cold breeze flew in through the open window, rustling the stacks of paper Eddie had on the table in front of you. With it, the smell of fresh rain hitting the soil outside filtered through, adding to the ambiance of the dimly lit room. Eddie's trailer, albeit small, was the kind of small that made you feel safe… cozy even.

The papers were full of sketches and Eddie’s sloppy handwriting, as he attempted for the 5th time to explain the last campaign to you. No matter how much he tried to dumb it down for you, it just was not clicking. You chalked it up to information overload, nothing a good night's sleep couldn’t fix. He agreed, but a small part of him was worried it wouldn’t click for you even then. He didn’t mean it negatively… he was aware it was a lot to try and understand in one night, but he wanted so badly for you to officially join the hellfire club.

“I think you’ll just have to watch for it to click,” Eddie suggested, sighing in defeat as he fell back against the couch. He had been really excited when you asked to join Hellfire, curious by their little game. He had let you tag along to the last meeting, setting you up at an empty desk with your art supplies and some snacks. Such a good mother-hen he was, you had joked, ruffling his curly hair. He eyed you keenly, before sitting at the head of the table, setting the ambiance for the game with a stern face, shadowed by the candles on the table.

The anticipation had struck in you, watching intently as the boys tried to get past the wizard guarding the treasure. It was the end of the game, everyone hovering just above their seats, leaning in close to one another. There were whispers as the dice was rolled one last time… and cheering erupted. Mike had rolled an 8- the number that granted them access to the treasure. Eddie threw his campaign book down, upset by the pure stroke of luck Mike just had to roll the one and only number he could.

You were mesmerized by the high rolling over the boys, the pride radiating infectiously off of them. The fear of missing out began to settle in your mind, as your smile slightly faded. After that meeting, you had cuddled into Eddie’s side as he walked you to his van, begging him to let you join the club.

After a few naughty promises, he agreed, not bothering to run it by the others. He knew they wouldn’t care– in fact they had been asking you to join for a while too.

For the sake of showing you the game, they had agreed to let Eddie play Dungeon Master again, knowing he would create a story that would be easy enough for you to join in on.

“You’re right, maybe once I start seeing how the others settle in, it’ll click,” you said, leaning back against Eddie, his arms coming tightly around your waist. He kissed your temple, inhaling the scent of your shampoo.

“When is the next meeting?”

“Tuesday, after school,” Eddie whispered. You nodded against him, closing your eyes. The breeze continued to flow through the window, rustling the curtains, sending the two of you right to sleep.

***

Tuesday afternoon rolled around slowly, each minute feeling even more agonizing than the one before. When the final bell rang, you sprang from your seat, earning a few stares as you knocked your books off on accident. Rolling your eyes, you stopped down to quickly gather them before you took off down the hall to the room where the club met.

Eddie stood against the door waiting for you. A sly smile spread across his lips as he watched you walk up to him.

“The Hellfire shirt looks good on you,” Eddie smirked, fingering the hem of the shirt, his fingers grazing against your skin. Chills ran down your spine as you pulled him in for a tight hug, pushing down the arousal that grew in your stomach. He knew he was playing a dangerous game with the light touches.

“Alright lovebirds, move. Some of us have a game to play,” Dustin said behind you, his toothy smile prominent. Mike stood beside him, smirking a little at Dustin’s comment. You smiled and moved out of the way allowing them into the room.

The rest of the club members were already seated around the table, their binders open, waiting for their dungeon master to get settled in. You took the open seat next to Gareth at the head of the table near Eddie’s make shift throne. He hit play on the radio next to him, and ominous music filled the room, setting the vibe for the story he began to unfold.

You were on the edge of your seat, mesmerized by the world Eddie had created. His words captivated your mind, setting the storyline beautifully, in a way that was easy for you to follow. Eddie knew you’d have no problem following along with this story he created, your imagination was perfect for this game.

At one point, you were faced with a choice, head right into the twisty woods where the monsters crept, or head left past the witches cottage. The choice was clear to the rest of the team, as they sat antsy, waiting for you to pick the correct path.

“Ummm…,” You hesitated looking around sheepishly. The choice wasn’t easy for you, as you figured both could end very badly… it was just a matter of whether the risk was worth it.

Gareth caught your attention, and subtly moved his head to the right. You noticed Dustin doing the same, as he hid a cough in his right arm. Picking up on the hint, you cleared your throat and sat straighter.

“I choose the right path.” You said, rolling your dice. You rolled a 5, a safe number apparently, as the boys cheered, and Eddie continued on with the story line.

After a couple of hours straight of playing, the group decided to call it for the night, leaving the game out to pick it up tomorrow.

“How did you like it?” Eddie asked you, nudging your shoulder as you two walked towards his van in the school lot.

“Oh my gosh, it was amazing!!” You squealed, hugging his arm. The look of excitement on your face made his heart melt. He never imagined he would be here, with the hottest babe in school as his, and she enjoyed his little world he escaped too? The stars had aligned a little well, he thought, as he smiled down at you.

“Y/N! See you tomorrow?” Dustin yelled from where he and Mike were hopping on their bikes.

“Of course!” You hollered back. Dustin and Mike let out some ‘whoops’ and hollers as they headed towards the direction of their homes.

Eddie pulled his beat up van in front of your house, his heart aching at the goodbye that would follow. You undid your seatbelt and turned to leave, your hand lingering on the door handle.

“Stay the night with me,” you turned and pleaded. Your parents were away for the week on a business trip they had together. The thought of being alone in the house made you worried.

“What?” He asked, a little taken aback. Neither of you had truly stayed the night at one anothers house before.

“Come on, Eddie. I can’t think of a more perfect way to end this day than that. Please?” You asked, batting your eyes. He smirked, his fingers drumming against the dashboard.

“Not fair, you know I can’t resist those eyes.”

“That’s kind of the point, silly.”

“I don’t even have clothes here.” He pointed out.

“You can borrow Charlies.” At the mention of your brother’s name he shuddered. Charlie was everything Eddie was not. Where Eddie was a societal reject, Charlie was the preppy momma's boy who golfed on the weekends.

“Yeah, absolutely not. His wardrobe is a little too colorful for my liking.”

You rolled your eyes, and then looked behind you. A deep red bag caught your attention. Grabbing it, you brought it on your lap and unzipped it.

“Babe, this thing is full of clothes…” You smirked, pulling out shirts and jeans he had shoved in the bag half-hazardly.

“Yeah, those are dirty clothes from like two weekends ago when I spent the night at Gareths,” he responded, grabbing a shirt and sniffing it. He recoiled at the smell. Then it wafted your direction and hit you.

“Oh my god!” You yelled, covering your nose, and shoving the clothes back in. “Well, we will wash these… twice.” You grimaced. Eddie chuckled none the less, grabbing the bag out of your lap and turning the van off.

He followed you inside, and into the laundry room, where you began the first cycle of his clothes. After that, the two of you made your way into the den, settling on the couch and watching some tv. It wasn’t long before the two of you were off in a blissful slumber, wrapped in each others arms.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fan fic #stranger things #eddie munson #alohastylesx works #<33333 #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddiemunson #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader

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rebellionmoon · 27 days

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Illumi Zoldyck, The One True Heir

I'm feeling better enough that the illumi brain rot is settling back in (as it should) so therefore i'm going to talk about my personal head canon about the one true heir of the Zoldyck Family.

Let's begin!

Illumi may not be the current heir to the Zoldyck Family, but in his eyes he is the one true heir. We all know how he vies for that role, to control killua, control the heir, and therefore be the one singlehandedly in charge. Which is the exact same thing Silva wants, but pretends to be the cool dad and yet has zero qualms with his children abusing, using, and hating on each other! In his life, Illumi was definitely molded like Killua to be the future head of the family and probably each Zoldyck child was molded, in some way, to become the head of the family if the situation ever called for them to take up the mantle. But I think Illumi isn't the heir is because Silva doesn't trust him and can't control him. And he's a little more evil than what's expected of an assassin (love him for that honestly. Silva must accept the monster he created. Silva must deal with the consequences of his own actions.)

That and the relationship between Silva and Illumi is probably very botched. Like I said above, Silva doesn't trust Illumi but trust goes both ways because neither does Illumi trust Silva. Silva was a terrible dad and whatever mistakes he made with Illumi he tried to fix with the later kids, Killua specifically. No doubt Illumi knows it but tolerates Silva anyway for his own and everyone else's sake. My headcanon is that when one enters the room the other leaves just to keep peace in their own home, if the situation allows. If they're working together on a mission, they're profesisonal enough to cooperate, but if not, then nope.

Another factor, I think, is the honor or code of being an assassin has eroded through the generations. For example, in the chimera ant arc, Zeno stated that he never kills bystanders on the job and briefly lamented about that when he thought he killed Komugi. Where as the current generation as no problem killing bystanders. Illumi doesn't care and will use bystanders. Milluki doesn't care, collateral damage know? Kalluto doesn't care (his weakness may be to enjoy torturing his victims). Even though Killua doesn't want to be an assassin, he is decensitized to death and doesn't care when he does slice and dice a person up, like on the blimp in the hunter exam arc) Who can we blame for this? The person who taught them and stood silently by to let these 'bad' habits sink in and become permanent. SILVA.

I can see Silva accepting the unnecessary death toll his children rack up. Possibly even rationalizing it. Even Silva himself will kill a bystander if it is necessary, though not to the extreme as his children. Headcanon: To fulfill the end goal of their missions, he'll let needle men and explosions slide. Silva might even be lenient with Kalluto's affinity towards torture, since he himself collects knives from serial killers. Another headcanon I have is that Silva took a morbid interest in serial killers (totally different from professional assassins), their methods and truthfully sees more of himself (at least the younger him from years past) in Kalluto rather than Killua.

The bridge between Silva and Illumi has been burned, but they're still standing at the edge and shouting at eachother from both sides. Toxic be as toxic does.

#Illumi is the one true heir and Silva is the one true villain #Illumi is still a villain and does awful things and nothing i will ever say will negate that #but silva is totally okay with letting his oldest son take the fall so killua can't direct his hate towards silva #why? Because silva messed up the first time and he needs killua to be utterly and blindly loyal to him #in Silva's eyes the perfect heir is the one who does everything he says #and Illumi is done being the obedient child #my post #illumi #illumi zoldyck #hxh illumi #hxh #illumi headcanon #illumi headcanons #silva zoldyck #half of this post was just me hating on silva and i'm totally fine with that

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nine-of-words · 7 months

Text

Something Borrowed (Part Five)

M Gargoyle x M Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG || NEXT

Wordcount: 5134

Content Warnings: Discussion of a Breakup, Drinking (Reader)

This one being a day late may or may not have to do with the fact I've finally started playing bg3...

Today, so far, has been one of those days that everything just feels wrong.

The midsummer wedding rush is in full swing, you’re baking the batters for a wedding cake off in the morning and finishing a different one for pickup each afternoon. And that’s on top of every birthday and pool party and every other sort of occasion under the sun, all demanding sweet, celebratory confections.

“Ugh, I just don’t get it…” Kirby grumbles and snaps the old tome closed, an uncharacteristically gloomy pout on their face. They lean their head on their hand, their palm squishing their cheek.

“Something I can help with?” You’ve told them pretty much everything you think may be pertinent, and happily entertained any of the failed spell purging attempts they’ve tried on you so far, but you still want to assist in any way you can.

“Not really- I’ve had no luck with leads at all. And none of the methods in this book that operate without knowing the origin of the curse look very promising. But there’s, like, definitely a curse here! The vibe in the shop and on you- The energy is there, it feels like it’s yours…but it can’t be from you! You’re a numan!”

“Yeah, imagine how frustrating it is on my end.” You chuckle.

“Ohh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that… No offense!!'

"None taken."

“It’s not your fault at all!” They sigh. “It just… doesn’t make any sense… y’know? I'm like, really good at breaking curses. Even the sneaky ones. It’s kind of my thing. But this one is like, hella hella HELLA sneaky!!!"

“Well, here, try one of these.” Doing what you know best in terms of soothing frayed nerves, you carefully pick up a cupcake from the case- Kirby’s favorite flavor, you've learned- and set it down in front of them. You hear yourself echoing the words your own mother told you growing up countless times: “It won’t fix the problem… but it might help you feel a little better.”

They let out a small, strangled gasp in glee.

“Oooooooh gosh! You're so good to meeee!” The faun takes the cupcake into their hands immediately, holding it like a small treasure. “I’m really going to need to hit the gym after this case, hahah~”

They devour their little treat and seem a bit less bogged down by the weight of your case afterwards, back to their normal peppy self. Helping to lighten their mood at least makes you feel slightly less guilty that your curse is the reason they’re having a hard time in the first place.

Kirby ends up heading out for the weekend not long after, deciding that fresh air and a change of scenery might help jog their investigative thinking.

You find yourself heaving a sigh as you look at the clock,clock, that closing time is creeping ever closer.

It's been so busy you haven't even been able to bake anything for when you see Carlyle later…

You go about the rest of your tasks, a little nervous about the tasting the closer it looms. Devin is pleasant enough, but working for someone you know socially is always a bit of a roll of the dice, unless you really know them well. You can’t imagine her being a problem client, though…

So, what could go wrong?

Nothing, you decide.

This tasting will go well, and even if it’s painful to be reminded of your past for a little bit, your reward for getting through it is getting to go on a date with a wonderful, kind, handsome man later this evening.

Any anxiety about the tasting seemingly disappears as you go through the motions lost in your smitten daydreaming.

Finally, you tidy up a little bit, taking care of what you can of closing while you wait, the table setting for the tasting already set.

Not too long after, Devin appears, all pastels and sunshine.

“Hi, hello there!” She chirps and all but flutters over. When she gets to the table, she grasps your hands and gives them a gentle squeeze with her small, graceful hands, still clearly brimming with joy. “Thanks so much again for fitting us in!!”

“You’re very welcome. Go ahead and take a seat- Oh, and where’s your partner?”

“Pookie will be here in a minute! He’s on his way.” She daintily takes a seat, tucking her ornamental bag in the sill of the window. “He had to stop by the music store before it closed. Lost all his picks again, hehe.”

“Oh, that’s funny.” You snort, reminiscing a little. "My ex used to lose all his picks all the time too, haha."

"It's the worst! I cleaned out one of my old purses once and found twelve at the bottom! Twelve! Then this one time-"

Devin continues to chatter excitedly about anecdotes involving her partner, most of which you relate to with your own stories. It seems you and her have dated similar types of men, for sure.

The conversation is enjoyable enough, but you can't help the strange sense of foreboding weighing on your chest.

"If he'll be here soon, I'll just go ahead and fill these, if you don't mind." You say, motioning to the flutes and the iced bottle of champagne in the bucket. You just want your hands busy to assuage some of the inexplicable nerves. "He'll miss the lovely pop, though."

"Oh, sure, go ahead! I don’t think he’ll mind." Devin assures you with a nod, so you grab the bottle and a cloth napkin.

After neatly removing the foil and the muselet, you cover the cork with the napkin and twist until it goes.

POP-

Devin laughs happily, clapping. The noise drowns out all the sound of the shop door opening, up until the end of the door bell jingle tapering off. A bit of champagne foam drips down the bottleneck and over your palm, then down onto the table.

You look up just in time to see your other guest- your body freezing in place as soon as your eyes fall on them.

You know this person anywhere, down to the tiniest details. A familiar lanky grey elf man; long brown hair tied back in a lazy half-bun, a worn band t-shirt with a flannel wrapped around his waist, and wrists wrapped in braided cord bracelets that move towards calloused fingers.

He looks the same as ever. He was wearing that t-shirt the day you moved out.

It’s Trevor.

You just look at him, speechless. He looks just as shocked- pale as a ghost, and frozen in place just past the threshold of the shop.

There is a loud maelstrom of emotions churning in your chest; you can hear it as blood rushing in your ears. Part of you is just so happy to see him again- but it’s quickly drowned out by months of suffering and grief and anger-

But before you can get so much as a ‘what the hell are you doing here?’ out, Devin speaks up, confirming the worst possible reason to be true.

“There’s my Pookie!”

"Hello." You force out. Finally reacting, you clean up the bottle and take the champagne flute from in front of her, turning your focus on filling it, trying to maintain some facade of normalcy as your heart starts racing.

“Oh… Heeey…” Trevor says awkwardly, seeming to find his ability to speak and move his limbs as he creakily approaches the table.

“What are you doing standing around, silly?” She pats the pink cushion on the seat of the metal chair beside her. “Come sit, you can finally meet my sweet friend!”

He finally takes the seat next to his new fiance, timid and flighty as if you’re going to jump up and sink your teeth into him at any moment. The expression is only made more intense when Devin leans over and gives him a large affectionate peck, the septum ring in her nose smooshing flat against his cheekbone.

“Let me introduce you! So,” She says your name. “This is my fiance, Trevor, and Pookie, this is my friend-”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to…” Trevor cringes slightly at hearing your name.

“Oh… um, do you two already know each other…?” Devin puts a polished finger to her lips, tilting her head quizzically.

“Yeah, Pookie,” You barely manage to keep from spitting the word out like venom. You pick up the second flute to fill it, your fingers pressed forcefully into the stem. “We do, don’t we?”

“Uh. Yeah, Dev. We know each other.” Trevor rubs the back of his head, that little motion of self-soothing that you’re not sure he picked up from you over the years, or vice versa. “We used to date.”

Used to date? That’s it? That’s how he’s going to describe you devoting almost a decade of your life to him, and him tossing it away when you needed his support the most?

You expected to be sad. To be utterly devastated. And while you are certainly feeling heartbroken… You in no way expected this level of indignant anger bubbling in your gut in addition to that stabbing, crushing sadness in your heart.

“Oh, that’s wonderful! It’s so sweet you two can still get along.” Devin says, and you try not to scoff at her absolute failure at reading the room. “If you’re already friends, that makes introducing you a whole lot easier!”

“Yeah. Sooo, uh… You moved the shop and changed its name, huh?” Trevor asks, daring to address you directly for the first time since he meandered in.

The quiet part: This would’ve never had the chance to happen if I knew it was you.

“Yes. It felt necessary at the time.” You say through your clenched jaw, filling your own flute of champagne.

You can’t even look him in the eye while you speak to him. Looking at the familiar hazel of his eyes- it just hurts too much.

“It… looks nice in here, man. I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

Doing okay?? You're most certainly not- or at least you weren't.

Either way, what would he know about it?! Like you haven’t been struggling to crawl out of a deep pit of sadness and self-loathing over the last year… Spending so much time blaming yourself for getting cursed. For not being good enough…

But… at the end of the day, you are a professional. You mentally pull yourself together, remembering your customer service voice and mustering all of your strength to get through this tasting on your raw charisma and goodwill towards Devin alone.

“Thanks.” You say, neutralizing the emotion in your voice to a smooth, pleasant tone. “Let’s get those cake samples out for you to try, aye…?”

You mercifully move away from the table, grabbing the plate of small, delicately cut cake samples from the front cooler. Some of these samples are flavors you always include, while others are ones Devin asked for specifically.

You set the plate down on the table- each neat square of cake accentuated with flower petals.

You watch as they try the cake samples, talking amongst themselves. You provide guidance and offer information when prompted, but you mostly just sit and drink your champagne, trying not to scowl or otherwise provide bad service.

…They're not agreeing on any flavors.

You've been in this business enough to know that's a bad sign. Not that they have completely different preferences itself- that can be worked around, and you've made multiple split cakes, or had people opt for different flavored batches of cupcakes in the past. It’s not uncommon, but it’s the way that the couple comes to that agreement that’s important. It's the way that they're addressing, or in this case, failing to address, those differences of preferences that's the bad sign.

"I like the pistachio creme, oh!- and the apricot curd- but the rose filling is nice too… and the marble cake is so good! All of these are so yummy, how are we supposed to ever choose?" Devin sighs happily, holding up the tiny fork as if trying to defend herself from having to make a decision. She has a point- not being able to pick which cake flavor is better is probably one of the best dilemmas you can think of to have. "What do you think, Pookie?"

“Whatever you want is good, babe.” Trevor bobs his leg under the table in rhythm, the way he does when he's bored. If he wasn't acutely aware of how bad it would look, he'd probably already be scrolling.

Awkwardness aside, he could at least try to act involved… Some things never change, you guess.

“Oh… I don’t know. What do you think?” Devin turns to you with a bright smile, practically wriggling in her seat in child-like excitement. “You’re the expert after all, hehe.”

“Well, I could’ve saved us some time if I had known… He won’t like any of these three- definitely not the marble, he hates chocolate cake.” You lean over and say, pointing to a few of the cake samples. “Regular white’s his favorite, but you probably didn’t like it much. It’s the most popular for weddings, but it's a wee bit boring, if I’m being completely honest. And he’d prefer the Elven berry compote filling with it.”

Trevor looks pale, like he’s going to be sick. He doesn’t protest, though- you already know you’re right.

“Oh! Wow, you’re really amazing!” She says, impressed. “How did you know all that?”

“Dev…” Trevor cringes, but doesn’t say anything more.

“Oh you know." You brush it off with a bitter smile. "Years of experience."

"Hmm…"

"Not to overstep too much," You can feel the champagne starting to influence your commentary just a tad. "If his parents are going to contribute financially to the wedding, they'll probably appreciate something classic, like that combination. They're sort of traditional. Might help you get on their good side."

Devin looks at Trevor, who nods weakly.

As you expected, they end up going with what Trevor (and ultimately his parents) would enjoy, over the less common combo Devin preferred. You can't help but feel a little bad, seeing a lot of your past self in Devin while watching that compromise take place.

You take down the details of the order on your datapad, desperately holding onto your sanity because you're trusting relief is coming soon.

"You'll still come to the wedding, won't you?" Devin asks you, puppy dog eyes already engaged. "I've got the save the date right here-"

She retrieves her bag and digs through it for a little box filled with twee, flowery wedding announcements printed on nicely textured card stock. She hands you one.

"Sure. I'll be there." You say, reflexively placating without giving it much thought.

Ugh, why did you agree to that…? Surely you could've thought up some excuse.

Trevor seems to be having much the same thought as you, brows almost imperceptibly twitching through his sheepish expression.

"Oh, good!" She claps.

A small bit of gleeful small talk and Devin’s profuse gratitude later, they finally leave.

Somehow, you managed to get through the entire tasting without making a scene, no matter how badly you wanted to.

You plop down in the stool behind the counter, not even bothering to lock the front up or turn the sign off.

As soon as you’re sure they’re gone and absolutely won’t be coming back for any reason, you let yourself become undone- bursting into raw, pained sobbing in the silence of the empty shop.

It’s like a knife in your chest, seeing him with something else and doing well, when you’re an absolute wreck, still struggling to pull together the broken pieces of your life.

As much as you’re hurting and never want to see him again, on the other hand, a small, weak, part of yourself still wishes that he would change his mind, come to his senses, show up and ask you to come back. Or that you would wake up one morning and all of this would’ve been a particularly long and excruciating dream…

You know you would take him back in a heartbeat. And it disgusts you.

It’s hopeless. It’s pathetic.

But…

It’s not fair.

That was supposed to be your wedding.

Once you’ve had a good cry and drained most of the remaining bottle of champagne by yourself, you’re staring down at your shop counter, zoning out.

Your eyes drift from the wedding announcement, instead choosing to fall on the vased bouquet of flowers still sitting nearby. They’re doing well still, not wilting yet at all. You've been taking good care of them.

You're hit with the sudden, shattering recall of the fact you have a date in less than half an hour.

Carlyle!

You jump up from your seat, then are forced to sit back down at once as your world spins nauseatingly.

… There’s no way you can let him see you like this.

You pull out your device, and desperately hammer out an admittedly sloppy message.

< Canb we rain check? Had a v bad dday today

You decide that will suffice and take another long glug from your champagne flute- the last of the bottle.

Carlyle, bless him, is punctual as ever, and responds to your message with concern before you’ve even put the glass back down on the counter. You would’ve noticed this if you weren’t completely lost in your own spiraling thoughts.

When you finally wipe your bleary eyes on the inner elbow of your button up to get a more clear picture of your device’s screen, you see a bundle of messages waiting. He must really be worried, because it's not in his nature to send multiple messages without waiting for a response first.

> Already on the train to the restaurant

> Are you okay?

> I'll change lines

> Be there in a few

“Dammit,” You swear, hanging your head in your spread palm, staring down the screen.

Great. Perfect.

You tried to spare him the sight of you, and managed to summon him here instead.

Not only did you have to see stupid Trevor today and agree to make his stupid wedding cake for his stupid wedding with someone new, but now the amazing man that has somehow managed to show interest in you is going to see what an absolute trainwreck you actually are.

You didn't even bake him anything!

…You really are cursed.

And maybe you're to blame…

You’re stuck in that same loop of catastrophic thinking until the bell chimes, taunting, above the front door that you couldn’t be bothered to lock earlier.

“Hey.”

It's hard to stay devastated when you see Carlyle walk through the door, wearing a subtle, well-concealed look of concern that you may not even have noticed if you were less familiar with him.

"Sorry." You say in exasperation, voice hoarse, trying not to burst into tears again. "I'm fuckin' tossed."

He takes that as his cue to approach the counter.

"Hah- It’s fine." He glances around at the half-closed state of the shop with raised eyebrows, then back to you. "Bad day, huh?"

"Awful. Terrible. Dogshite."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No!" You whine, and then immediately launch into talking about it. You explain the awful day you’ve had even before the event, and he listens attentively.

"And it was fuckin' Trevor of all people, because of course it was-" You seethe. "One of my clients is marrying my bloody ex! Of all the people in this city!"

Carlyle nods to confirm he's listening, so you take that as the go ahead to just spill everything.

"You should have seeeeen them- He hasn't changed at all. He still leaves his stupid guitar picks everywhere! And he sucks at guitar. He was always better at drums. And she just coddled him n’ doted on him n’ babied him the whole time. Just like I always did- He didn't deserve it then, he sure doesn't deserve it now!"

"I knew he was going to pick the vanilla sponge and the berry filling. I knew it! He is so predictable. You know she picked the marbled sponge and the pistachio cream? There is no way they're going to work out. I make a lot of wedding cakes, Carlyle! Those flavors don't work together!"

"And she calls him Pookie." You gag.

At some point during your rant, he removed his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves and sat down on one of the metal stools across the counter from you. A glass of water has appeared within arms reach, and you didn’t even notice him going to find the sink.

"You should drink some of this." He taps a dull, stony claw against the trim of the glass. "You'll feel better."

"Ah, bless." You gratefully sip at the liquid, only now realizing how parched you were.

"Sounds like you've had quite the day indeed. At least it’s over?” Carlyle tries to reason.

“I agreed to make their wedding cake. AND go to the bloody wedding.”

“Spirits.” Carlyle laughs softly, cringing and rubbing his neck with his palm. "You could always say something came up."

"Yeah, but my… Client? Friend? Client-Friend? Devin- she’s lovely. Absolute sweetheart. She was so excited to invite me and… I just don't want to hurt her feelings."

“Oh. That is pretty rough.”

“Right? It’s downright tragic, is what it is!" You find yourself quickly becoming all giggles and giddy bubbles."That's why I'm such a mess- well no, I won’t lie, I'm a mess anyway- but tonight I am a HUGE one. We were supposed to be on a date right now, but instead you're here listening to me blubber and winge on about my ex."

"Believe it or not, I've actually been enjoying listening to you. Moreseo than I already do." He smiles at you warmly, fingers flexing where they're laced together on the countertop.

"An' why's that?" You ask, putting on your best attempt at a flirty tone, given your state. You’re convinced you’ve nailed it.

"For one, your accent seems to be stronger when you're intoxicated. It may not be the most appropriate time to mention it, maybe… but it's too cute to not point it out."

You laugh giddily, suddenly filled with a surge of confidence.

"Cute, eh?"

"Very." He affirms, obviously genuine through his amusement.

Your face flushes, and you beam with glee.

"...You wouldn't like me better with a twee septum piercing?"

"That's awfully specific…" Carlyle taps his fingers on the countertop in thought, a soft clicking of stoneskin on marble. "I suppose if you wanted one, it's your choice and I can't really complain… It isn't something I would personally find aesthetically pleasing. …Though I could get used to it…"

You crack into laughter, giggling until you're wheezing and dabbing at the tears in your eyes.

"Oh… that's such good news, hahah…"

"Right. …Maybe it's for the best that we get you upstairs?" Carlyle rises, then comes around to your side of the counter, where he idles beside you.

"Oh? You want to leave so soon?" Your hands find his tie, gently but clumsily fiddling with it between your fingers. "But I'm really enjoying your company."

"You can enjoy my company whenever you like." Carlyle smirks. He does not stop you from playing with his tie. "But for now, you could probably use the rest. Allow me to help you upstairs."

You pout, giving the striped pink fabric a few gentle tugs, but he has a point. You are so exhausted and drained from the day already and now with the intoxication on top of it- you're barely holding yourself upright.

"I don't think I need much h-" Shifting your weight to get down off the stool, you fail to find your balance and stumble. The stool clatters and wobbles behind you, and your hands fly out, grabbing at his shoulders.

But a set of firm hands is there on your sides to keep you from collapsing into a puddle on the floor.

"Careful."

You laugh breathlessly, and let your full weight rest against his form in relief. You let your hands twine at the base of his neck and sigh, relaxing against him.

"Okay. So. Maybe I do need a tick of help."

"Just a bit. But everybody needs a bit, sometimes."

You scoff appreciatively.

"You are so nice to me and so handsome and you make me smile so much." You start gushing words with your face pressed to his solid stone chest, lacking any filter or shame at this point. You're so happy your heart could burst- in stark contrast to the absolute emotional pit you were just languishing in earlier. "Kirby said that's a low bar, but nobody makes me smile like you do. I like it- it feels good to really smile again."

"Hahah, you're flattering me here. …But I'm pleased you feel that way." Carlyle says, seemingly not in a hurry to escape your hug. You can hear the hollow rumble of his laughter in his chest through the thin cloth of the button-up, with your ear flush against him like this. "I would be remiss to not admit I feel similarly.”

You’re too happy for words. For a brief moment, nothing else matters.

“...You probably don't want to sleep in this."

You feel his hands migrate back around your waist, delicately picking the knot of your apron loose with his claw tips.

Despite your strong desire to cling onto him indefinitely, he eventually helps you put your weight on your own feet again. Then, after you've worked together to remove your soiled apron, you wobble towards the stairs, guardian gargoyle in tow.

"Those stairs are a hazard for someone in your condition. So I'll be right behind you. If that’s okay?"

"Yes." You mutter in agreement.

You feel a heavy, reassuring hand place itself on the center of your back, keeping you steady as you climb the narrow stairs up to your loft.

Somehow, you manage to crest the stairs without incident.

"Nice little place.Very stylish, but not too visually loud." Carlyle says as he looks around the space, hand still lingering on your back as you stumble towards your bedroom. "It suits you."

"Oh, you're just so sweet…"

You cross the threshold into your room, the full weight of the day starting to bear down on you. You plop down on the edge of your bed, completely spent, and kick your shoes off.

"Ugh, I can't sleep in these, they're covered in flour." You gripe and gesture to your work clothes, not wanting to get up as soon as you’ve sat down. "I'll get my bed sheets fully dusted… But I don't think I have it in me to stand."

"Not to be too forward, but I can assist. If you feel comfortable with it."

"You're keen on stripping poor defenseless me down?" You tease.

"I meant I could retrieve some sleepwear for you." His dark eyes clearly fix on where your hands are working off your shirt buttons, obvious to you even when the alcohol has dulled your awareness. "Nothing untoward."

"I would like that." You continue to unbutton, a smirk settling on your face. "Or I could go without completely…"

Carlyle's lip twitches into a wicked smile too, but he quickly turns around and disappears past the hanging pink curtain, into your small walk-in closet.

"So. …In here, then?"

"First drawer on the left." You call.

He returns by the time you've partially removed your shirt. It's proving more difficult than expected, and you've somehow got yourself tangled in the process of pulling it off. Clearly a failing in the design of the shirt, and not a reflection of your ability.

Carlyle sets the folded set of pajamas next to you and stands for a moment, assessing the damage caused by leaving you alone for a moment.

"Hahah, here." He pulls it the rest of the way off. You can't help but appreciate the sight of his exposed forearms flexing to maneuver the twisted fabric free from your body. It makes your heart start to race.

"I thought it might end up like this- I was hoping," You look up at him with slightly glazed eyes and say, with what you are absolutely sure is a very sultry, alluring tone. "Tonight was supposed to be a date, after all."

"Hmm."

Your hands reach out, brushing against the edge of his leather belt.

"Don't you want me?" The words tumble out before you can stop them.

"...I do." Carlyle smiles warmly at you, letting out a breath he was seemingly holding. "But not like this."

"Probably for the best." You laugh in agreement, not even offended- you're far too pleased to have that confirmation to be upset. "Thought it was worth a shot."

Carlyle proceeds to help you change the rest of your clothes, mostly acting as a glorified handrail, as he stands firmly in place with his eyes averted.

Eventually you're fully reclothed, and let yourself fall back against the mattress.

"On your side, please-" Carlyle instructs, holding your bedding up while waiting for you to settle.

"Look at you, in here tuckin' me in and everything. You're such a stand up fella."

Carlyle doesn't say anything, just laughing and shaking his head, slender dreadlocks swaying as he pulls the quilted comforter up over you.

"...You're not mad, are you? I'm sorry, I went and mucked things up tonight."

"No, I'm not. It’s no trouble." He leans over with one knee resting on the mattress, constructing a wall of the available pillows on your bed against your back. "Things are still fully unmuckable. We can always reschedule."

You're so giddy, you can't stop yourself, and your hands reach up to affectionately touch either side of Carlyle's face where he hovers over you.

His cheeks are hard underneath your fingertips, like a marble baking table surface before it’s been dusted with flour. But instead of being cold stone like you expected, they're pleasantly warm and soft to the touch. The porous, sculpted surface of them feels good on your skin.

"You… You marvelous man. You still wanna take me out?" You whisper hoarsely. You'd jolt up and kiss him right here if you had any energy left. "After all this?"

"Yes." He finishes securing the pillows to his satisfaction, patient enough to allow you to continue drunkenly cradling his face.

You chuckle, and manage to raise yourself up, just enough to press your pursed lips square in the middle of his stony forehead in a quick, affectionate peck. Then, you release your hold on him and settle back down, snuggling into the bedding.

"Goodnight, Carlyle." You say, already starting to fade off to the sound of him quietly humming in amusement and shifting his weight off the bed.

"Goodnight."

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

#exophilia #monster lover #monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #gargoyle x reader #gargoyle #male x male #mxm #mlm #male monster #male reader #series: something borrowed #oc: carlyle #oc: declan #nine of words

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unholy-screeching9 · 1 year

Text

NSFW CONTENT WARNING! 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI.

💋

I actually have a song choice for this one! The loudest parts resemble the arguments/angry moments, while the other parts represent the in between moments/calm after the storm. I recommend listening while reading, but you don’t have to in order to enjoy! 💋

Song choice: BAD LUCK! (Jhariah)

Angry!King Dice x Angry!Reader NSFW Headcanons

Angry!King Dice x Angry!Reader NSFW Headcanons (GAME)

You rarely have fights with your husband. You both bicker here and there over trivial topics, but fighting? It’s not in your nature.

But King Dice can just… he can be SO awful sometimes. Of course he can, his whole job is to manage a casino run by the DEVIL, and to cheat people out of their souls.

But he can also be awful to you if he feels the need. And you can return that energy to him.

So, even though it’s very rare, sometimes you both go AT it with each other, and you can really dig deep to where you actually hurt each other.

All other topics of argument apply to these headcanons, but for specifics, today you both fight over Dice’s workaholic nature.

“YOU’RE ALWAYS WORKING NOW, DICE! Do you KNOW how much it hurts to not even see you come inside to SLEEP anymore?! I’m WORRIED about you yet you’re here, treating me like SHIT for it!”

“WELL UNFORTUNATELY, THAT’S NOT MY PROBLEM! Don’t YOU know that I have a lot of responsibility in this casino?! EVERYONE is looking at ME to fix things around here, so I’m SOOOO sorry for taking a night to finish doing MY JOB! FUCK, YOU’RE IMPOSSIBLE!”

“IT’S NOT JUST ONE NIGHT! IT’S EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT! GOD!! JUST GET OUT OF MY SIGHT BEFORE I SAY SOMETHING I’LL REGRET, JACKASS!”

Shaking his head, Dice left as soon as you said the word. Normally he would try and talk it out with you so neither of you would have to leave the bedroom, but when you both go at it this hard? He leaves. And he doesn’t come back.

You sleep alone, in a cold bed. But you know what? You sleep just fine, your fury convincing you that it was for the best. That you didn’t need Dice.

Dice sleeps in his office, passed out over a large pile of soul contracts that need his signature.

When you both fight like this, you don’t see your husband more than a few seconds a day for the next week.

He walks in, grabs a couple things, does his makeup in the bathroom, and leaves without a word.

For the first couple days, you return that energy. You ignore him completely, pretending to be asleep, or you read a book in front of him, trying to show how unaffected you are.

However, when you realize he just doesn’t care, you start to try and talk to him. You mostly just want to get him to apologize, but a small part of you just wants to hear his voice again. You’re starting to miss him.

But he ignores you. He doesn’t even look at you. It’s like you aren’t even there. He leaves you alone. And frustrated. And sad.

Eventually, he just stops coming into the bedroom all together. He gets ready in his office. With the door locked, so you can’t see him even if you tried. This just makes you fed up all over again.

However, not only are you angry, but you’re in heat.

You both haven’t so much as TOUCHED each other since the argument. And boy, did that make you INSANE. The worst part is, Dice knows that. You know he does.

Dice is punishing you. And it’s working.

Once you realize this, that’s it. You wait until the MINUTE his shift ends, and you strut right out onto the casino floor, your eyes searching for him.

Once you find him, you wordlessly grab him by the wrist, and you pull him along as you storm to your bedroom, your husband irately demanding for an explanation.

You ignore him. Just like he has with you for the past week.

You shove him inside, slamming the door shut behind you and standing in front of it with your arms crossed.

Dice’s green eyes are boring into your skull, bright and glowing with anger.

“Whatever it is you want, spit it out. You better make this quick, I am not in the mood.”

“Oh yes the hell you are, you prick. I know you are.” You saunter over to him, grabbing him by the collar.

“We haven’t had sex in a WEEK. And you know what? I think that is killing me so much more than your pathetic attempts to get me angry.”

Dice looks at you in shock, furious that you would even dare speak to him like that.

“Why, you little—”

“Shut up! Here’s what’s going to happen. I don’t care how upset you are with me, and I’m putting aside my anger for this. We are having sex, NOW. Otherwise, this whole casino will be burning down. Got that?”

Dice stares at you for a second, surprised that you’re actually speaking to him like this. He lets out a low, mocking chuckle as he grips your jawline with his hand, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“I knew you wouldn’t last long without me, you greedy whore… you seriously can’t survive one week without my dick? I figured you were needy but I never knew it was this—!!!”

It’s your hand that renders him speechless. You move it towards his groin, giving his cock a squeeze through the clothing as a warning to your spouse before you start massaging, smirking as Dice melts into your touch.

“Hm, what was that about me being a ‘greedy whore’? Meanwhile, one touch on your dick from my hand and you’re a moaning mess in my arms. I wouldn’t try to deny it anymore if I were you, Dice. You need me.”

“Ngh~” Dice whined softly, gritting his teeth and wrapping an arm tightly around you, his fingers digging into your back.

“…F-fine. ONE round, and that’s it.”

Smirking triumphantly, you push him back into the bed as you shuck off your top and your bottoms, jumping on top of him and desperately tugging at his waistcoat.

“Get these off. Now.”

Dice growls softly in irritation at being bossed around like this, but obeys. He removes his waistcoat and vest, tossing them on the floor beside your clothes. His shoes and slacks are next, landing haphazardly off the bed.

You struggle to unbutton his undershirt, your hands shaking in anger and want. He helps you, but he undoes each button painfully slowly just to mess with you.

In retaliation, you rip off the damned thing, chucking the pieces so they landed on the other side of the room. Your husband turns his head to you in shock.

“Hey! That was a good shirt—”

“You have plenty of others. And if not, I know damn well you can afford more.” You growl in annoyance, hands hungrily running over his chest as you push him onto his back.

You trail your hands down his torso to his boxers, and yank them off as fast as you can. When his dick greets you happily, you chuckle seductively, putting your hands to work.

“If I only get one round as you say, then I’ll just take things very slow… let’s get you warmed up, shall we?”

The only response Dice gives you is a pleasured groan as you pump his length, your thumb rubbing over his tip. Precum leaks from it and onto your finger, and you laugh tauntingly.

“Look how excited you’re getting. God, I know you think you were disciplining me by keeping yourself away, but I honestly believe you were punishing yourself.”

“Oh shut up, you hussy…” Dice can’t even argue back with you, his head leaning back in ecstasy as your hands work their magic.

He grits his teeth, unconsciously starting to move his hips with your hand’s movements. He’s desperate for more, but you refuse to give him that satisfaction. He doesn’t deserve it yet.

You grin maliciously and remove your hand, earning an agitated growl from your husband.

“Dammit, quit teasing me already and just get it done— OHHH, MY GOODNESS~”

He shrieks in pleasure as you place your mouth over his length, taking the entirety of him at once. You gag slightly as his dick hits the back of your throat, but yet you take your time, driving Dice insane.

“Ohhhh… fuck, would you just pick up the pace?! Faster! Ohhh SHIT, don’t you dare stop!~”

He is a symphony of moans and growls as you suck him off, your tongue working wonders on him. The noises he’s making are enough for you to start leaking through your own underwear.

Once you believe he’s been lubed up properly, you pull your mouth off his cock with a satisfied ‘pop!’

Dice lifts his head to stare at you as you remove your soaked underwear, dropping it right by where you left his boxers.

“Are you finally going to get on with it and let me fuck you already? Someone needs to teach you a lesson~” He inquires curtly, sitting up.

“Continue talking like that and I’ll stop the whole charade right now, dear. But if you’re a good boy, I’ll make it worth the wait. Let’s see if you change your mind about our little argument once I’m through with you.”

You switch positions with him, laying down on the bed and guiding him so he’s comfortably on top of you.

Before he can even blink, you shove yourself against him, pushing his dick inside of you. Boy, is he howling. You feel so fucking tight against his length, and it’s enough to make him cry.

Tears leak from his eyes and down his cheeks as he groans for you,

“OHHH, SHIT! FUCK, darlin’, you feel AMAZING~”

“Notice how that attitude of yours has died down significantly… face it Dice, you talk a big game but you’re just as weak as I am.”

He grabs your face, leaning in and glaring down at you. “Watch it. You feel lovely on my cock, but I will leave you begging for more if you aren’t careful.”

You move to argue but the only thing that comes from your throat is a pleasured scream as he rams his hips into you, not giving you time to adjust to his size.

Somehow, the pain just makes you more turned on as he pounds into you. You won’t admit it out of pride, but you missed him.

You missed having him inside of you like this. You missed the way he kissed your skin and leaves you covered in hickeys as he fucks you senseless.

And good god, he missed you just as much. The way you look in the sheets as he makes love to you. Your beautiful voice when you moan for him to continue. You’re exquisite. And it drove him crazy to be away from you for so long.

You reach your hands up and grab at his chest, your nails digging into his skin. You grin as he stumbles slightly in his movements, struggling to pick the rhythm back up.

You gently scratch him as he fucks you, relishing in the sweet sounds he makes. You reach up further, resting your hands on the sides of his head and knowingly rubbing your fingers over his pips, snickering as he screeched in pure bliss.

“OHHH, FUCK, BABYDOLL! PLEASE, PLEASE DON’T STOP DOING THAT! I BEG!”

“That’s right, Dicey… Sing for me. I want to hear your beautiful voice pleading for me as you fuck me into oblivion.”

Driven to madness, he obeys. He’s groaning, moaning, and whining to you. He’s screaming for you as you keep your hands on his pips.

He’s moving his hips in time with yours, both of you shoving yourselves into each other. You’re close to your climax, but you don’t want him to know that. You hold it in as long as you can.

Meanwhile, your husband is coming completely undone above you. His moves are getting sloppy as tears leak from his eyes and onto your chest. You look up at him, and your heart almost aches at his expression.

His eyes are squeezed tightly shut, his teeth gritted as he thrusts into you. His cheeks are practically glowing that beautiful pink shade you love. He looks so… desperate.

Desperate to please you. To make up for all the time you both lost while he was away. He looks almost guilty as he works, finally getting over his pride and letting his true emotions show.

He even expresses it in words as he pounds into you, leaning down and peppering your skin with kisses.

“Ohhh SATAN, my love, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I let my pride overwhelm me when we could have been doing this every night! FUCK! I love you so much, I can’t live without you! Without your touch! I can’t live like this! I NEED YOU!~”

The pure emotion in his voice is enough to break you too, and you hug yourself against him as you both push into each other. Tears start to form into your eyes as your shell breaks, and your pride disintegrates.

“Ohhh, my King! I’m so sorry too, I should have come looking for you sooner! I shouldn’t have tried to make you so angry! I LOVE YOU!~”

“DARLIN’, I’M CLOSE-!”

“CUM FOR ME, KING!~”

You scream in euphoria as his seed bursts inside of you, leaning out and trailing down your legs. It’s enough to make you reach your orgasm as well, your fluids erupting over his stomach and your own.

You both are completely undone. Your hair is a mess. His mustache is crooked and ruffled. You both are glistening in sweat and fluid, drool and tears running down both your faces.

But you both are smiling at each other. Any anger you had towards one another is gone, replaced with utter infatuation. He pulls himself off of you and wipes every last drop of sweat and fluid off of you and himself.

You look at him in pure adoration as he finally drops next to you, and you immediately wrap your arms and legs around him. You haven’t cuddled with him in over a week, and you were desperate for his touch.

For the first time in way too long, he gives it to you. His arms are wrapped over your form, engulfing you in his embrace. His lips brush over the top of your head over and over in gentle kisses. His hands rub up and down your back, massaging away every bit of tension they find.

Your eyes slip shut, and you bury your face into his chest, giggling happily. You blink and stare up at him, a dopey grin on your face.

“I love you so much, baby.”

He looks down at you with an equally large smile, gently cupping your face.

“I love you more than you can even imagine, sweetness. And I’m so sorry, I promise I’ll make it up to you…”

“…Sorry for what?” You realize that you had completely forgotten what had made you so upset with him. Your mind was fuzzy, and your body was still trying to catch up with everything that happened in the last few hours.

Apparently, Dice was in the exact same boat. He paused, looking at you in slight confusion as he tried to remember what the hell caused him to avoid you for so long.

“I… oh my goodness, dear, I don’t remember!” He laughs, hugging you closer to him. He may not recall what went down, but if there’s one thing he does know, it’s that he’s just so happy to be back in your presence. He missed you so much.

“I… I don’t either!” You return his laughter, clinging onto him as you both chuckle with one another. You haven’t laughed like this with him in a long time, and you finally got the chance to relish in the bubbly feeling his laugh left in your chest.

You hate fighting with him. You both hurt each other deeply, and then you spend forever avoiding each other when you both should have just talked it over.

But if there’s one thing you love about fighting, is the sex that comes afterward. You suppose that in the end, all the heartache is worth it.

You have your husband back. He has you back. And that’s all that either of you care about.

When you gaze back up at your husband, he tilts your chin up towards him, you see that familiar look of lust in his eyes.

Chuckling fondly, you realize that neither of you will be getting sleep that night.

Angry!King Dice x Angry!Reader NSFW Headcanons (SHOW)

You and King Dice argue, sure, but it’s never over anything big, and you both are all over each other again in 10 minutes tops. You both rarely ever let things fester into something ugly.

Dice is a star, and he doesn’t want any unnecessary anger to leak into his performances. At the same time, he doesn’t want you to be distracted from your work, either.

However… sometimes, you both are just too stubborn for your own good. And things do get ugly. You both dig very deep, and you hit each other where it hurts.

So much so, that sometimes it’s hard to come back from your arguments straight away. Sometimes, you both need time away from each other to think.

The topics you fight over are irrelevant, because almost all the time, your arguments end just like this:

“YOU ARE AWFUL, YOU KNOW THAT? You make it SO HARD to live with you sometimes! HOW CAN YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF?!”

“Oh CRY ME A RIVER, you are JUST AS BAD. You think you’re the innocent one EVERY TIME we argue and I am getting SO SICK OF KISSING UP TO YOU JUST TO GET YOU OFF MY BACK.”

“SOMETIMES, I WONDER IF I MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE MARRYING YOU. You are such an irritating ASSHOLE, IT’S A MIRACLE I’VE PUT UP WITH YOU FOR THIS LONG!”

“Well, what an amazing coincidence! You know, I was JUST thinking! Did I make the right choice proposing to you? Or should I have DUMPED your sorry ass long before then? Because MAYBE if I DID, I WOULDN’T HAVE TO DEAL WITH YOUR BITCHING EVERY FIVE MINUTES.”

You both pause and stare at each other, the words finally registering in your heads. You both just questioned your marriage, and meant it.

You left home without a word. He lets you go, and doesn’t try to chase after you. You sleep in a motel, alone. He sleeps alone in his bed. Neither of you care.

You don’t return home in days. You book a few extra nights at the motel, just to be safe. You refuse to listen to the radio. You don’t want to hear your husband’s voice. You don’t even want to think about him. Right now, it’s just you. You don’t fucking need him, and if he dropped dead, you wouldn’t give a damn.

Would you?

Dice is seething. He’s so angry he can’t even sleep properly, and of course, that hinders his performance on the show. Only slightly, because it’s King Dice we’re talking about, but it’s enough for people to take notice, and become concerned for the man.

If someone were to ask, he would deny any problem. It was like you didn’t even exist. He secretly hoped you were still listening to his show so you could see that he was doing fine without you, that he didn’t need you. Because he didn’t. If you stopped existing suddenly, he would forget about you in 3 days tops.

Right?

Wrong.

He misses you, desperately. And that only makes him even more furious. He’s so angry that you just up and left without telling him where the hell you went. Like he doesn’t even matter. He is outraged. He would track you down himself if he could. Give you a piece of his mind.

‘What the hell were you thinking, running off like that? Are you that much of a coward?’

And you? You need him. You need him hysterically. You didn’t want to leave and grab a motel just to hide from him. You didn’t want to run away, and that’s what makes you even more pissed off. He was the reason you were staying there in the first place.

He didn’t even try to stop you. He just let you go, without a word. Did you really mean so little to him? If you got hurt, would he even be there for you?

And of course, another problem has to be thrown into the mix…

You both are incredibly touch starved. And it’s driving you both to the brink of madness. Dice hasn’t been satisfied in days, since before you left. And you haven’t been touched. You both need your problem fixed soon, or you may do something you regret.

Once your little situation has been brought to your attention, you decide that enough is enough. You pack up, and leave the motel to go back home. You still haven’t listened to Dice’s radio show, but you know damn well it’s going on.

You head home, knowingly arriving at an empty house, and wait in the bedroom. You watch the sun go down, and know that any minute now, your husband would walk in the door.

And he does. When he steps inside the bedroom and turns the lights on, he jumps in surprise at you, sitting with your arms crossed, waiting.

That surprise quickly turns to anger. He slams the door behind him, kicks off his shoes, and struts right up to you, forcing you by the jaw to look him in the eye.

“What. Were. You. THINKING?!”

Dice starts to rant to you, pacing the floor, using his arms for emphasis. You scoff at him, silently waiting for him to finish.

As he yells, you take a good look at him, assessing the shape he’s in. You notice the dark rings under his eyes even with concealer on, telling you that he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in days. His mustache is slightly messy and unkempt, when he usually keeps it pristine and neat for the audience. His clothes are slightly wrinkled. His voice is hoarse. God, he looks a mess.

You also pick up the scent of cigar smoke and alcohol. He must have had other ways to cope with your absence. You sigh to yourself a little, letting your heart ache slightly for the amount of pain your husband is in. You sit back, and continue listening.

“You LEFT. And you didn’t come back for over a WEEK! Do you realize how IDIOTIC that is?! You’re my spouse! My partner! Someone could have taken you for themselves! You would have left me behind! Do I really mean NOTHING to you anymore?!”

Alright, that’s enough. With newfound anger rising inside you, you stand, storm over to where he is, and smack him so hard that his head spins around several times.

You grab him by the head so it stops spinning, and kiss him hard.

Dice squeaks in surprise, both still recovering from his dizziness and in shock that you’d kiss him like that after he just berated you.

He hesitantly returns the kiss, still pissed as all hell, but he’d be damned if he didn’t miss those sweet tasting lips of yours. He’s desperate for any sort of touch from you. God, he needs to be inside of you. He needs you to touch him. He needs you.

You eventually pull away, glaring intensely at him, grabbing him by his bow tie and pulling him down to your level.

“Listen here, you cube-headed jackass. I am still incredibly angry with you, but right now, my arousal triumphs that. We are going to fuck. NOW, before I go insane and kill somebody.”

Dice stares you down, growling slightly and pulling you against him.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re getting at, bossing me around like I’m some bastard you found on the streets—”

“DICE. I WILL KILL SOMEONE.”

Dice grits his teeth, INCREDIBLY hesitant to obey your orders when it’s him who should be making them, but agrees. He’s too turned on to care right now.

“Alright fine, calm yourself. One round. ONE. And then we need to talk, because I’m not letting this whole situation slide.”

“Your clothes better start coming off soon, because otherwise I will rip them off.” You hiss, tugging at his waistcoat.

“You better quit bossing me around if you know what’s good for you, you needy little brat. I will punish you if you keep this up.” Nonetheless, your husband obeys you, stripping off his waistcoat and vest, his slacks and undershirt not far behind.

You smirk knowingly at him, seeing right through that damned ego of his. You know he’ll do anything you say right now, because he needs you just as much as you need him. He is YOUR toy tonight, and you’ll be sure to remind him of that.

You shove him onto the bed, yanking his boxers off as you slip off your own underwear, tossing the garments to the side as you climb into the bed.

“Look at that cock of yours, so hard for me… you poor dear, you must have had such a hard time dealing with this little problem…”

You’re mocking him. And he knows it. He opens his mouth to berate you for teasing him like that, but then you put your hands to work, and he can’t make any coherent sentences.

You practically cackle as you pump his dick with your hand, leaning overtop of him and sucking at his collarbone.

“That’s right baby, moan for me… just like that. If you’re a good boy and keep this up, then maybe I’ll reward you for your efforts.”

Dice tries to growl angrily at your statement, but he’s so undone at the sound of your voice and the movement of your hands that he lets out a tiny whine instead. You’ve rendered him helpless.

You smile with mischief as you pick up your pace, laughing as Dice starts grinding his hips to your movements.

“Awww, look at you Dice, so desperate for me… it’s adorable. I wonder how you behaved on your show. I wouldn’t know, I never listened to the radio.”

Upon hearing those words, Dice looks up at you in despair. “You… you never listened to my show? Not ONCE since you left?!”

You grin, pecking his lips as you pump the precum from his cock, letting it leak from your hands and travel down your arm. “Not. One. Day.”

Dice moans loudly in sadness as he leans his head back, unable to look at you. You always listened to his show, even if you were upset. And you didn’t even do that?

It was his fault anyway. Dice started that argument. He drove you away, and that was his rightful punishment. The only thing he could do now was try to be as good as he can to win you back.

Unbeknownst to him, he didn’t need to ‘win back’ anything. You needed him just as much. You were just getting a little too cocky with the amount of control you had over him.

You get off of him, lying down beside him on your stomach. You cross your arms and look over at him, telling him with a nonchalant voice:

“You better hurry up and fuck me while you can, this ass has a time limit.”

Dice is up in seconds. He shoots off from his lying position to kneel overtop of you, his cock at your entrance.

“Just relax sugar, I promise I’ll be so good to you. I’ll make this all worth your while~”

You squeak in delight as he pushes his length into you, filling your ass up until he is completely inside.

You throw your head back and groan loudly in pleasure, having missed the feeling of being stuffed by his cock like that. You were so happy to have that luxury again.

Above you, Dice begins to thrust, grabbing your hair and gently pulling, coaxing out every moan, whine, and yelp he can. Your voice makes him weak. Every time you make a noise, he’s pushing harder and harder until he is slamming into you.

Meanwhile, any sense of control you had was gone. That cockiness you had is overshadowed by longing as you grip the sheets, screeching out for him to go harder.

“Ohhh, KING!! Please, go harder! FASTER! FUCK, I’ll be so good to you! PLEASE~”

Hearing your pleas caused something to snap inside Dice’s head. That’s right… he was the one in charge here. How the hell did you somehow make him plead for you just minutes earlier?

Gritting his teeth, Dice rams into you as hard as he can, yanking your hair back so he can growl in your ear:

“I don’t know what kind of spell you put on me before, but things are different now. You’re no longer in charge, you gave up your reins. It’s my turn now.”

And with that, he lets go of your hair, gripping your sides with both hands as he pounds you until you’re seeing stars.

You are a screaming mess. The husk in his voice as he speaks to you in that tone drives you crazy, and combined with the way he’s fucking your ass? You start to cry, the overwhelming pleasure along with the memory of your argument enough to leave you begging for mercy.

“KING, I’M SORRY… I’m so sorry I left you alone! I’m sorry I didn’t listen to your show! Ohhh, FUCK, I’m at your mercy! Please, PLEASE let me cum! I’ll be so good to you! I promise you! Please King, you’re EVERYTHING to me!”

You feel something wet hit your back, and without even turning your head, you know your husband is in tears as well. However, he says nothing as he slams his cock into your ass. For a moment, you notice that he’s going slightly harder than he was before.

Dice grits his teeth at your words, squeezing his eyes shut as he crashes his hips into you. He’s slightly grateful that you don’t turn to look at him. He doesn’t want you to see what a mess he’s in. He wants you to keep up that dominant, furious image of him.

But in reality, he’s just as emotional as you are. He missed you dearly. He was no longer upset with you. You more than made up for your argument when you gave him that handjob. This is just a way for him to release any lingering frustrations he has.

But now that he’s dangerously close to his climax, he holds no more anger. He’s longing. Yearning for you. He hopes that you don’t leave again after you both finish. In fact, he finally speaks up as he reaches his peak.

“FUCK, doll, I’m cumming-!! I’m so sorry! Please don’t leave after this… I need you! I can’t live without you! Please come back to me!~”

“OHH, SHIT! KING, I’M GONNA CUM-!”

As soon as you feel his spent fill you to the brim, your own fluids burst from your genitals all over the bedsheets.

Dice’s hands don’t let go of your sides, keeping you steady as you both ride out your high. He pants heavily as he slides out of you and sits on the side of the bed, swiping a cigar from the pack resting on his nightstand.

You roll over so you’re on your back, your eyes wandering over to where he sits. Watching him light up his cigar, you sit up as well, scooting over to the edge of the bed and leaning against him as he takes an inhale.

Dice lets you, wrapping his free arm around you as he exhales, smoke emanating from his lips as he looks down at you.

You stare up at him, tears welling in your eyes at the sight. One look at him and you can tell straight away.

He’s in pain.

Not necessarily physical. He feels great. But he’s worried. Would you leave? Would you stay, but refuse to speak to him? What was next?

You bury your face into his side, your hand rubbing up and down his back, noticing the amount of tension he had. Sitting up, you look him in the eyes, and tilt his head towards you.

“I’m so sorry, honey… I love you.”

Dice reaches behind your head and runs his fingers through your hair, taking another deep inhale of his cigar before setting it in his ashtray. He shifts towards you completely, giving you his full attention.

“You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. It was all my fault, anyway. I started that fight.”

The fight… right. I guess he did start it, but… did he? Wait a minute…

“I… Dice, I don’t even recall what we were arguing about.” You giggle sadly, resting against him as your sides shook with laughter.

At your words, Dice ponders for a moment before laughing as well, shaking his head as he hugs you close.

“You know what, babydoll? I don’t either!”

You both laugh with each other, your sadness drifting away. He’s just so happy to have you back in his arms again, and you’re happy to be home. He loves you. You love him.

And you know what? If neither of you can even remember what the fight was over, it wasn’t worth arguing about anyway.

Dice smiles tiredly down at you, rubbing your back. He lets out a yawn, his exhaustion catching up to him.

“I’d love to continue the session tonight, but I think I’ll fall asleep halfway through.. I haven’t been sleeping very well without you here, honey.”

You shake your head, smiling up at him as you take his hand, your wedding rings gently clinking with each other.

“That’s okay, let’s get you to sleep. Besides, tomorrow’s our day off.”

#cuphead #cuphead dont deal with the devil #king dice #king dice cuphead #king dice headcanons #king dice x reader #smut #the cuphead show

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autisticandroids · 1 year

Text

best meatless chicken salad

btw if you skip the meat part and are not as gung ho about letting it sit in the fridge it will also work for normal fish or chicken salads.

the meat:

ok this is the simply part. go to the freezer of your local store-that-sells-fake-meat and pick up some gardein teriyaki chik'n strips. they have to be those ones because of the texture. but also if you experiment with substitutes please tell me how it works out. the important part is to find a meatless chik'n with

- no breading

- a nice texture (on the tender side)

good flavor is always preferred (and i do like the way the gardein things taste) but is entirely optional because this shit is gonna be flavor blasted. actually now i think about it like. a Whole Tofurkey like you might get for roasting might do the job. but you would have to roast it first. also if you try it and it sucks know that you could have used gardein like i said.

anyway assuming you're using the gardein, open up your packages (to feed three people for several days i usually get three packages) and fry up those chicken strips in olive oil.

DO NOT ADD THE SAUCE.

DO NOT.

you can put the sauce aside for later if you think you'll use it or just toss it. but you do NOT want your chicken strips sauced.

anyway. fry them until they are tender but minimally crispy, then set aside to cool.

the fixings:

these are the things you will add to your chicken salad that complement the meat. between one third and one half of your bowl should be fixings. like, they should be way more emphasized than in your average chicken salad.

there are two types: big fixings and small fixings. the big fixings are things that are good to have taking up a lot of space volume-wise. by volume, most of your fixings should be big fixings. small fixings should be more like a garnish. you aren't necessarily getting them in every bite. also, all fixings should be diced quite small, not longer than a half inch in any direction and that's an absolute maximum. this goes double for small fixings, which should be sliced almost as though they are spices.

anyway here's a list of possible fixings. obviously don't put all of them in one salad, and add your own as you see fit, but these are fixings that i have added to salads in the past or plan to add in the future. generally speaking my recommendation is like, maybe 2-5 big fixings, and as many small fixings as you think build a nice flavor profile. one thing you should NOT do is omit all pickles. pickles are essential. there are many types of pickles here but you need at least one. your big fixings should also include at least one fresh fruit/vegetable or the final salad will be absolutely overbearing. anyway.

potential big fixings: celery, apples (something with crunchy crisp flesh that will stand up to a bit of abuse. i use honeycrisp. i wouldn't use, say, a macintosh because i like them but the texture will quickly become gross in this context because they will get smashed up from the mixing), shredded carrots, shredded cabbage would probably be good but i have never tried it in this recipe and it might be too tough, heart of palm, pickles (i always use spicy pickles because i love them but regular or sweet pickles would work too), sweet pickled beets (i prefer safie's but any are fine as long as they're something you would willingly eat plain with a fork), fried tofu (firm or extra firm. cut into smaller than half inch cubes, marinate in soy sauce for fifteen minutes, then fry in a half inch of olive oil until crispy enough on the outside to have a slight crunch but still quite soft on the inside) (i know i know don't deep fry in olive oil it will burn. well, this is only a half inch, and the tofu should fry quickly and not require a super high temperature).

potential small fixings: pickled jalapeños, pickled cherry peppers, really any pickled peppers, roasted beets, olives (i tend to use castelvetranos because i'm a wuss but if you're braver than me you could use like, kalamata), dried cranberries/cherries, raisins, pickled ginger, i don't really like the texture of nuts in my chicken salad but flavor profile-wise i bet pecans would kill in this, walnuts would be okay too, pickled radishes, giardiniera, basically any pickled item you have that's crispy (no pickled eggplant), canned artichoke hearts, sweet relish, fresh mango, fresh avocado (IF you are planning to eat the whole bowl today), fresh herbs (i personally opt for dill (LOTS of dill) and chives and parsley, but i bet cilantro would also work, or lemon balm, or green onion, and someone very brave could add some fresh basil or rosemary or mint if they wanted to see what would happen), lemongrass paste (i've never managed to get my hands on fresh lemongrass so i don't know how to work with it but i encourage experimentation!), ginger paste (JUST a little), lime flesh (as in: the innermost flesh that you would have to peel out of the clear filmy skin), grapefruit flesh or canned grapefruit chunks, roasted salted seaweed (NOT too much, and make sure it's in small pieces, because it will get soggy), spicy chilli crisp, chunky cherry jam, you could definitely add roasted garlic here but although i am ordinarily a garlic forward person this particular recipe demands a light, tart flavor that too much garlic would interfere with.

anyway. shred the chicken a bit with two forks, and mix in the fixings as you cut them so you can maintain a reasonable ratio.

do NOT add mayonnaise at this stage.

the spices:

anyway, your next task is to raid your spice cabinet and get everything out including the weird stuff in the back that you never use. when you are adding spices, always remember to taste. when i'm adding a spice i haven't tried in this recipe before i get a spoonful of the chicken and fixings and put some of that spice on top and if it's good i add it in. anyway one important thing to remember when spicing is that a lot of spice mix type things have salt in them, so be careful not to accidentally oversalt your chicken salad.

anyway, the most mandatory spices in this recipe are old bay seasoning (enough that you can taste it in each bite but not enough that it makes everything salty), and paprika (if it's not smoked, turn the whole bowl orange. if it's smoked, be gentler, but not too gentle).

anyway here's a list of other potential spices: cayenne pepper, basically any pepper powder (i have a friend who has some smoked ancho powder that i'm DYING to use for this recipe), msg, i would be a lot more gung ho about dried basil than fresh, all the herbs i mentioned above in the fixings would also be good dried, basically any herb in your cabinet actually, caraway seeds would be interesting but be sparing, celery seeds (do NOT be sparing), celery salt, mustard powder, basically anything that can reasonably be considered a pickling spice (as long as it's not too big so e.g. no whole mustard seeds or peppercorns), sesame seeds, black pepper, furikake, almost any spice mix that is intended to be added to a finished dish would probably work (e.g. trader joe's everything but the bagel), powdered ginger, garlic powder but again be sparing and i wouldn't use course crystalline garlic powder i would get the fine stuff, lemon zest, orange zest, you could definitely experiment with garam masala though i haven't tried it on this yet, ditto with cumin, really anything in the spice cabinet is fair game as long as you taste first. the only thing i regularly use that i absolutely would not add is mushroom powder.

anyway now you're spiced. mix it all up and taste to see if you need to add more.

you have now completed the big bowl of stuff you're gonna be putting in the fridge to eat out of later. do NOT put mayo on until immediately before eating, as this will help it keep.

the mayo:

okay now here we are. the final step. this one is pretty simple. grab a serving from the big bowl (or several servings, if you're about to eat with others). into this smaller bowl you are going to add mayonnaise (just plain ol' regular mayo is perfect, but i like to use olive oil mayo instead sometimes instead because it makes the chicken (which was fried in olive oil) pop) and mustard. it doesn't matter what kind of mustard: french's, dijon, spicy brown, it's all fine, but you NEED the mustard to make the salad get up and go.

anyway there's lots of other stuff you could add here if you wanted, but it's all optional and you shouldn't go crazy with it: hot sauce, lemon juice, rice vinegar, plain yogurt, liquid smoke, vegan worcestershire sauce, vegan fish sauce, sriracha mayo, any aioli you have kicking around your fridge.

anyway. you're done. congratulations and bon appetit

#recipe

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melk917 · 1 year

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🚨 for Paul? I love your writing and hope you are doing well btw! <3

🚨 sex that sent me to the ER headcanon for Paul

(lol this prompt makes me giggle)

Everyone knows how much Paul loves to cook. And he's had more than his share of kitchen sex. Past and present partners always know he's easy to corner there, and half the time, is easy to distract. (The other half, he has exact timings going and you're going to need to wait or the food will be ruined, and he's not going to be distracted.)

One summer, in his 30s, he had planted an extensive vegetable garden in his yard. This garden included a huge bumper crop of all sorts of peppers... including some habaneros which had thrived. He had way too many to eat, so he decided to make homemade hot sauce.

He had made jams and jellies and other sauces before. He knew what to do and already had a list of friends and family who wanted a jar. He set aside a weekend, and started off prepping the peppers--coring, slicing, dicing, chopping....all with just his bare hands. No gloves, nothing.

And he's always had great arms... and watching him use those big, strong arms to slice and dice and chop... well, he's hard to resist and his girlfriend at the time was weak for it.

He laughed and tried to shake her off, but she was pressed up behind him, running her hands over him, and he couldn't resist. He got caught up in the moment, letting her tug his pants and briefs down and he, without thinking about anything other than fucking her, jerked his cock a handful of times to spread precome and make sure he was as hard as he could be.... with the hands he had just been handling the peppers with.

GOD. The burning. It was awful. He was actually crying. He was in so much pain. Rinsing off offered absolutely no relief. In the end, he caved and let his girlfriend bring him to the ER just to make it stop.

He had never been more mortified than when he had to haltingly explain why his dick felt like it was on fire. Luckily the ER doctor was mostly a professional and didn't laugh in his face. (Though, honestly, the guy could have laughed loudly at him and as long as he fixed it, Paul would have just rolled with it.)

Absolutely never again. He learned his lesson. Now -- he always wears gloves when chopping up hot peppers and he washes his hands thoroughly before sex. His partner too, if they had been handling the peppers. Even with wearing the gloves. He's taking absolutely no chances.

#paul mendelson #paul mendelson x reader #headcanon #dopesick hulu

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wordsandrobots · 9 months

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The Wishing on Space Hardware playlist (story edition) v1.0

Hmm. A touch premature, perhaps, but while my grand finale plans include a stupidly ambitious attempt to compose a playlist of songs fitted to each character I’m using as a point of view (30+!), I have collected enough IBO-feeling songs to do that for fics in the series too. Well, I did after committing to the bit and hunting down ones to fit the stragglers. We are 18 posted out of 20, so there’s a possibility I’ll revise this later. But hey! For the moment, I’m quite happy with how this came out. And if you like mixes of British folk, indie rock, Country-adjacent stuff, and Leonard Cohen, maybe you will be as well. (Special achievement: it’s not wall-to-wall Thea Gilmore songs.)

For those of you just tuning in, my post-canon Iron-Blooded Orphans series Wishing on Space Hardware can be found at Ao3 via all good web browsers (probably the bad ones too). Full spoilers for both seasons of the anime come as standard.

Arc #1: Moving on or standing still

A Handful of Rusted Petals – Embers [Skinny Lister]

Long is the distance, hard is the mile / That drags me away from our innocent smile / Where wild is the welcome, the company right / Far from the rattle and roar of the fight

I like Skinny Lister a lot and thought this fit the bittersweet themes of these vignettes rather well.

The Grandmaster – The Game [The Levellers]

The clock ticked past the final hour / Which of the men had lost? and what was the cost? / The glasses now were empty and gone / To wash away the shame, and take away the pain

While not 100% on the money, this song seems to capture the feel of the Elion vs McGillis conflict, from Elion’s side at least.

To Catch a Falling Star – Get Better [Frank Turner]

So try and get better and don't ever accept less / Take a plain black marker and write this on your chest / Draw a line underneath all of this unhappiness / Come on now, let's fix this mess / We could get better because we're not dead yet

Gender flip the lyrics and this is basically Yamagi and Shino in this fic to a T.

Fragments of You/Pieces of Me – Injuries [Skinny Lister]

On the advice of my heart I flew / Into the burning sun / And for the life of me I can’t / Find me a way to return

Because sometimes life is at once fundamentally difficult and nevertheless glorious.

Arc #2: Monsters out of the past

Let Sleeping Angels Lie – Call You Friend [Oysterband]

So many times we’ve disagreed / Don’t count the cost there’s a greater need / We sit and watch each other bleed / That’s why I call you friend

Eugene and Shino’s relationship in a nutshell.

Between Family – The Power of Unity [Masaru Yokoyama]

(With full apologies to Mr Yokoyama. I tried to come up with an actual song but using this track is much funnier. Plus, you know. Smut. I don’t tend to spend much time putting lyrics to that.)

I can picture the polyamorous numpties to this far, far too well.

The Ares Affair – Everybody Knows [Leonard Cohen]

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded / Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed / Everybody knows the war is over / Everybody knows the good guys lost

The point where WoSH swerves hard from ‘fix-it’ to ‘consequences of fixing it’.

The Haunting of Takaki Uno – Don’t Dim Your Light For Anyone [Thea Gilmore]

The world is fierce, it's hard as nails / When you do good but goodness fails / You crawl the road that others run / Don't dim your light for anyone

I find Takaki tricky to write because his voice isn’t quite as distinct as Yamagi or Ride, but I know exactly what I want to capture through him.

Arc #3: The pressure of ghosts

Frozen Sunlight – Apparition #12 [Thea Gilmore]

And I smelled the ghosts of the ashes and the orchids / I've got promises tattooed to the insides of my eyelids / And I'll be watching when the Richter reaches ten / I bled by these weapons, babe, and now I'm one of them

Two Thea Gilmore songs in a row, I know, but they have very different tones and this is on point for my interpretation of Azee.

Of Obsessions and Erotemes – A Good Song Never Dies [Saint Motel]

There was a moment, a hole opened in the sky / A chance to join their pantheon / For all the times they never heard your battle cry / Now even angels sing along

I only encountered this song recently but I can see Iverson to it, so now it’s their villain theme.

Revolution for Beginners and Polyamory for Dumbasses – Modern Way [The Kaiser Chiefs]

Hold on to the basics / But we can't change all our tactics / There's no point sitting / Going crazy on your own

Had originally penciled in ‘Truth Is’ by the Levellers for this, but I think ‘Modern Way’ is more applicable to the whole.

Under a Crescent Moon – Son of the Left Hand [Duke Special]

In dying light my shadow calls / I watch his fingers stalk the walls / And now in hollow down I stumble on / The rubble of my babylon

Goes harder than perhaps the tone of the fic strictly requires, but honestly? I think that’s probably earned by the situation.

Arc #4: Schemes and daydreams

Eugene Sevenstark and the Hesperus Treasure – Plans [Devil and the Deep Blue Sea]

And I should find / A better way to spend my time / Than spinning grand designs / Every day with you

The story dealing with coincidence and anticlimax felt like it needed something soothing as a soundtrack.

Hope Against Hope – All This And Heaven Too [Florence + The Machine]

And I would give all this and heaven too / I would give it all if only for a moment / That I could just understand the meaning of the word you see / 'Cause I've been scrawling it forever, but it never makes sense to me at all

I listened to this a lot while writing the next story in the series, but it fits Kudelia too well not to use here.

Love, Death and Cannoli – Fire and Water [The Wandering Hearts]

All love's like fire and water / I ask myself, "Should I bother?" / When you look at me with those big brown eyes / And I know what I'll do / I've tried but it's impossible / Can't keep myself away from you

The Yamagi/Shino song as far as I’m concerned.

Fata Morgana – Belgrade [Battle Tapes]

We pretend in the darkness / We pretend the night won’t steal our youth / Singing me the sweet songs of seduction / Let me be the fool, fool, fool / Who will live and die for you

There are many ways to be seduced and become a fool for others. Also I needed a banging tune for what is, broadly, a long action sequence of a fic.

Arc #5: The end of the world

We Three Kings – Bullet [Saint Motel]

You don't stop a bullet that you set into motion / You don't stop a fire when you light an explosion / So then, why would we fight it? Already ignited / Counting down, down, down, down

This story is inevitable. Or if it isn’t, the major events are underway long before our protagonists arrive. And then there’s that one-in-a-million shot...

History of a Catastrophe – Who By Fire? [Leonard Cohen, live version]

And who by brave assent, who by accident / Who in solitude, who in this mirror / Who by his lady's command, who by his own hand / Who in mortal chains, who in power / And who shall I say is calling?

More Leonard Cohen, with this particularly beautiful version of the song, for an exploration of how terrible systems warp people’s lives.

Ragnarök in G Minor – Battlegrounds [Coco and the Butterfields]

Hey, hey, what do you say when you fall down / Hey, hey, go away from battlegrounds / And I, I feel like I'm living just to stop you winning / So carry on, carry on, carry on ‘til I'm gone

It’s that third line in the chorus. That’s the fic. (Or it will be once I’ve written this monster; the document passed 1MB a couple of weeks back, ye gods.)

A Day in the Light – Something for the Pain [She Drew the Gun]

Walls for the wind / Shelter from the rain / Something for the hunger / And something for the pain

This will be the coda to the series. And I feel this song works well for the history of IBO’s setting. A summing up, if you will.

#GUNDAM #Gundam Iron-blooded Orphans #gundam ibo #Tekketsu no Orphans #g tekketsu #fanfic #AO3 fanfic #My fic #Playlists #songs #music #the management apologises for the author's musical taste

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