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solarmorrigan · 3 months

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Hands Where I Can See Them, part 10

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Ao3

[Warning for reference to sexual activities, fairly brief]

Robin watches Steve walk past the “Action” section with an armful of Schwarzenegger films three times before she says anything.

“You’re distracted today.”

“Hm?” Steve looks up at her, snapping out of whatever vacant thought he’d slipped away into and entirely proving her point. “Sorry, what?”

“Distracted. You.” Robin points down the correct aisle. “The Terminator and his ilk go down there.”

Steve shakes his head. “Right, sorry.”

Following him over, Robin leans against the end of the shelf while Steve sorts through cases that Robin knows have already been organized. “So what’s got your head in the clouds?”

Steve is quiet for a moment longer. He doesn’t seem unhappy – he seems lighter, actually. He’s not in the same weirdly good mood he’s been in for the last week, but he’s a little more settled, so whatever it is, Robin figures it can’t be bad.

Finally, he glances around the store (it’s empty; Sunday nights hardly even require two employees once the afternoon rush has died out, but Robin won’t complain about being paid to sit around and do nothing for a while), and then says, “Eddie and I are dating. Like, for real this time. I think.”

The words come out in a bit of a rush, and it takes Robin a moment to decide that, yes, she’d heard them correctly.

“Excuse me?”

Her tone is exactly as pointed as she’d meant it to be, if the way Steve winces at the question is any indication.

“The last you told me, you two were ‘talking about it’ and ‘taking it slow.’” Air quotes are heavily employed to illustrate Robin’s new skepticism.

“And we were!” Steve says quickly.

“That was, like, two weeks ago, Steve!” Robin says. “That is not slow!”

“Well it’s not like we just jumped into it! We did talk, and we went on a couple of dates–”

“What? When? Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?”

“I mean, the first was last weekend, so–”

Robin gasps, jabbing a finger at Steve. “You lied to me!”

“I did not,” Steve insists, pointing a finger right back at her, though it doesn’t have quite the same effect with one arm still full of clunky plastic cases.

“You did! You asked me to take your shift because, and I quote, you were going to do something for yourself,” Robin shoots back.

“And I did! I gave myself the chance to see where this thing with Eddie was going,” Steve says.

“Or, you gave yourself the chance to fall right back into the same pattern that hurt you before,” Robin says.

Steve shakes his head. “It’s different this time,” he says, more quietly.

“How?” Robin demands. “Because ‘dating for real this time, I think,’ doesn’t sound that different.”

“I mean, we didn’t say the word dating, exactly, but…” Steve shifts a little on his feet, but stands firm. “He told me that he loves me.”

“Uh huh,” Robin drawls. “And was that before or after you slept together?”

She regrets it the moment she says it, regrets it the moment the words form and she knows they’re going to come out, but it’s too late. She can see the flash of genuine hurt on Steve’s face before he buries it beneath a layer of cool indifference.

“We didn’t actually have sex, but thanks for the vote of confidence,” he bites out, turning and rounding to the next aisle.

Shit.

No one who Robin has personally seen tear a monster in half with his bare hands (feet?) has any right to look as much like a kicked puppy as Steve does, but he somehow manages it.

And the thing is, she knows how important that is to him – for someone to say the words out loud. She’s learned about his parents in bits and pieces; she even eventually got the full scoop on Nancy. She just– she worries. And when she worries, she says things before she really thinks them through.

Sighing, Robin walks around to the next aisle, finding Steve kneeling and paying entirely too much attention to the stacks of cases in front of him. When her slow approach isn’t rebuffed, she sinks down on the floor next to him, cross-legged with her back facing the shelf.

“I’m sorry. That was a cheap shot,” she says.

Steve shrugs.

“If it helps, it wasn’t directed at you,” Robin goes on. “I just– I really don’t have any reason to trust Eddie’s motives, and I don’t like it when you’re sad, and it’s my job as your best friend to look out for you and be mad at people on your behalf. Especially if you’re not going to be mad at them yourself.”

“Isn’t it also your job as my best friend to trust me and my judgment? And, like, support me when I’m doing something that’ll make me happy?” Steve asks quietly, a little dry.

“I guess,” Robin groans, leaning to the side so that her cheek is pillowed on the round of Steve’s shoulder. “But come on. If some girl made me cry, are you telling me you’d get over it in a snap?”

Robin can feel Steve tense beneath her for a moment, and she absolutely knows he’s thinking about lying to her.

“That’s different,” he finally says.

“It really isn’t, you big goddamn hypocrite.” Robin doesn’t bother to hide her smile, even as she smacks Steve on the back, ignoring the whiny ‘ow’ he gives her for it. “So tell me about the date.”

“Which one?” Steve asks.

“The first one. Must’ve been pretty good for you to agree to another,” Robin says.

“It… really was, actually.” Steve shifts carefully out of his crouch, giving Robin enough time to sit up before he settles onto the floor in front of her, back to the opposite shelf. “I mean, it was weird at first. He took me out to some random neighborhood and then we walked a little ways into the woods.”

“Creepy,” Robin says.

“A little bit, yeah.” Steve nods. “And then we came to this little, like, forgotten park? Had some playground equipment and a gazebo. And when we got there, he told me to turn around, so I couldn’t see what he was doing.”

“Creepier.” Robin wrinkles her nose.

“Yeah, but I was curious, so I did it.” Steve shrugs and Robin snorts at him. “But when he let me turn back around, he’d uh – he had a bunch of candles lit up all around the gazebo? It was… really nice. And he brought dinner – something he cooked. Like, with one of the recipes I taught him.”

Robin’s brows go up, reluctantly impressed. “Damn, alright, point to Munson, that was pretty good,” she admits.

“It was,” Steve says with this dumb, smitten little grin that Robin will absolutely tease him about later.

“Okay, okay, so he picked up on you being a romantic, that’s great, but,” Robin holds her hands out in front of herself in an emphatic sort of ‘here’s the thing’ gesture, “where was all of this before?”

“Right?” Steve bursts out, flinging his arms out in front of himself, narrowly avoiding knocking into one of Robin’s hands. “Thank you! I’m not crazy for wondering that!”

“Of course you’re not,” Robin says, narrowing her eyes at him. “He didn’t tell you that you were, did he?”

“No, no, he– he didn’t.” Steve quickly shakes his head. “I just… I don’t know, I felt like I was being kind of unreasonable, I guess. Like, maybe for wanting any of that at all. Or wondering why he didn’t do it sooner.”

“You’re not,” Robin says again. “You deserve to get what you want, Steve.”

“Yeah, that’s what Eddie keeps saying.” Steve sighs, leaning his head back against the shelf.

“Well… good,” Robin says, a mildly reluctant concession. Maybe Eddie’s getting on the right page after all.

“He says he wants me to tell him when I need something,” Steve says. “Like… he wants me to talk to him.”

“What, about your feelings?” Robin asks, playfully wrinkling her nose. “Gross.”

“The worst,” Steve agrees drily, but he looks pleased, and a little thoughtful. Robin gives him the minute to think, before he says, “I did kind of blow up at him, though. Before that.”

“Good,” Robin laughs, nudging his knee with hers.

“It did sort of feel good,” Steve admits, glancing down through his lashes at Robin. “Just… to kinda get it all out.”

“What happened then?” Robin asks.

“Well, it’s – last night kind of went sideways,” Steve says. “It was supposed to be another date, but…”

“But…?”

“He just – when we were having dinner last weekend, he kept calling it our first date, and it was, but it also wasn’t? I kept thinking about what I thought was our first date.”

“Wait, was that the time in your car out by the quarry?”

Steve lifts his head up so he can shift the full brunt of his scrunched look of disapproval onto her. “No, hooking up in my car out by the quarry was not our first date. That didn’t happen until later.”

“Well it’s not like I have timestamps on these things, Steve!” Robin groans.

“It was that night at the diner,” Steve says, and Robin’s mouth falls into a little “oh” of recognition.

“The diner.” She nods.

It’s obvious in retrospect; Robin has heard everything about that night and then some, from the way Eddie had managed to get ketchup everywhere to “and he can do this thing with his tongue, even I didn’t know you could do that, but I’m gonna try and figure it out, it was so good–” (Robin had teasingly asked him if he’d need to practice on a peach or a banana, and he’d thrown a handful of balled-up receipts at her before deciding “both”).

“But he wanted me to tell him about it, so I did, and then last night, for our date, he took me to the diner,” Steve says, raising his eyebrows at Robin.

“What?” Robin’s eyebrows scrunch down in answer. “Did he think he just gets a do-over?”

“That’s what I asked!” Steve says, before subsiding a bit. “But I don’t… I really don’t think he thought that far ahead. I think he just wanted us both to have, like, some kind of special memory there.”

Robin hums, squinting at Steve skeptically.

“Anyway, I kinda yelled at him and I left, but then he actually came and found me,” Steve continues.

“Where did you go?” Robin asks.

“The lake.”

“Why were you all the way out there?”

Steve grimaces. “Mostly because I knew he doesn’t like going out there.”

Robin snorts, and Steve’s grimace shifts into a guilty sort of smile.

“But he came out there, anyway. And we talked, and– I really think he means it, Rob,” Steve says, looking at her like he needs her to believe it, too. Or at least like he needs her to believe him.

Robin sighs, letting her head fall back slowly, as if she’s deflating. “Fine,” she says eventually. “Munson is off death row. He can have a parole hearing.”

“I think you’re getting a little too into this whole execution metaphor,” Steve says.

“You’re both lucky I didn’t decide to make it literal,” Robin shoots back, and Steve laughs. “So, wait,” she looks back up, “you seriously haven’t had sex again? Since the whole…?”

“Oh my god, get this: he actually walked me to my door last weekend,” Steve says, halfway between incredulous and amused. “He didn’t even ask to come inside. Said the rule is to wait until the third date.”

“Oh, I bet you loved that,” Robin teases.

“I mean, I wouldn’t have said no if he had asked to come in,” Steve scoffs. “But I’m… kind of glad he didn’t. It was different.”

Robin smiles. “Different is promising,” she says, reaching out to pat Steve on the knee. “Now come on; we close in, like, half an hour and I don’t want to stay late cleaning.”

“Yeah, alright,” Steve agrees, hoisting himself off the floor before offering Robin a hand up.

“Also, you owe me dinner for all the secrecy,” Robin declares, heading back towards the front of the store with the intent of putting the counter back in order.

“What?” Steve groans. “I already spent, like, two weeks with literally no one to talk to about all of this. Haven’t I suffered enough?”

“Nope,” Robin says, and for all she can hear him grumbling, it only takes a minute before Steve is standing next to her again, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. “Sap,” she mutters, putting arm around his waist and squeezing him back.

“And yet, who agreed to be my best friend?” Steve asks.

Robin sighs. “I did,” she says, and she doesn’t even have to look to know that Steve’s grin mirrors hers.

Part 11

Tag List (Currently full! Message me if you'd like off the ride): @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e @pearynice @giverobinagfbrigade @novacorpsrecruit @hotluncheddie @strangersteddierthings @alongcomesaspider @theheadlessphilosopher @jettestar @rajumat @garden-of-gay @jamieweasley13 @dam28lh @oldwitcheshat @lololol-1234 @perfectlysensiblenonsense @salty-h0e @r0binscript @mavernanche @back2beesness @a-lovely-craziness @paintsplatteredandimperfect @redbullgivescaswings @emmabubbles @heartstarstar-blog @thesuninyaface @thatonebisexualman @fruitandbubbles @erinharvelle @m-owo-n @theystoodandplayedwithsilence @surroundedbyconfusion @luthienstormblessed @3ldr1tchang3l @pansexuality-activated

#platonic stobin #stobin #steddie #robin buckley #steve harrington #stranger things #Robin and Steve have zero boundaries and they share a single brain cell #which they use to judge Eddie #solar wrote #eddiesteve

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hopelessromantic5 · 1 month

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I’m in a silly goofy mood. Here’s some merthur crack.

Nimueh is seeking her revenge on Merlin for thwarting her plans.

She sneaks into Camelot, disguised to be hidden among strangers. But to Merlin, she will appear as what his heart most desires.

Thinking it would be a beautiful woman, she lies in wait, until the manservant stumbles upon her and his eyes bug.

“Arthur, what are you doing here?! Uther will have my head if you aren’t in the-“ The manservant stops rambling and stares at Nimueh.

Nimueh, of course, is shocked. This is a plot twist.

The boy still hadn’t looked away from her eyes. Searching for something and coming up short.

“You are not Arthur.” He breathes out.

And before Nimueh can think to act on her ancient sorceress instincts, Merlin has her paralyzed and face up in a turnip cart, covered with potato sacks.

Well this is going splendidly, she thinks to herself, as she rolls to an unknown location.

Not only is the manservant desperately in love with his master, but he’s also got his wits about him enough to know the real thing when he sees it.

At this thought, she pauses. This boy must be someone. He has power and knowing that she’s never seen in a person so young. So mortal.

Eventually the cart stops and she’s tumbling out onto the floor of a very dusty apothecary.

“Merlin, what are you doing?” An older gentleman’s voice comes closer.

“Gaius, look at this and tell me what you see.”

The older man appears in sight, peering at her with a permanent quizzical brow.

“Looks nothing more than a kitchen maid. What is the meaning of this, Merlin? What have you done to the poor girl?”

“Wait, you’re telling me you’re seeing a kitchen maid and not the Prince of Camelot?”

“The Prince of-“ The old man looks to the boy “Have you injured your head today, Merlin?”

“No, Gaius. That’s what I’m telling you. When I came into the court yard after just leaving Arthur with his father, I can promise you I did not expect to see Arthur again, leaning against a wall, suddenly craving a tan.” The boy, Merlin, stares and keeps staring. “I think she’s a witch, or a sorceress.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Well, the fact that she looks like one person to me and another to everyone else. And…I can feel it. She must be powerful, I can feel the current of energy underneath.”

The old man, ponders for a long minute.

“Do you remember the creature in the water supply? The Afanc?”

Merlin nodded.

“I told you I believed it to be the work of an ancient sorceress names Nimueh.” The woman internally gasps at her own name. “I also feared she had been keeping an eye on her attempts to destroy the Kingdom. It seems now, she knows you are responsible for her plan not taking hold.”

“You mean she did the on purpose? Came here, in broad daylight, to come after me? Dressed as the Prince of Camelot?”

He sounds hysterical. Perhaps it’s affecting his psyche. This image she’s in now.

“That part is strange.” Gaius muses still staring down at her body like it will tell them more. “You said it looked like Arthur in the court yard, how did you know it wasn’t him?”

“I don’t know.” A lie. A terrible lie, followed by his face turning bright red. She could almost laugh at the foolishness of young humans. “I just…did.”

There’s no reply for minutes.

Then Merlin speaks again.

“I say while she’s paralyzed and without her power, we dose her with a truth serum and find out what she’s doing here.”

‘Without her power’? Excuse you?

She’s only now beginning to feel it. Her magic is still there, in her core, but it’s been locked away. Covered in layers and layers of blankets. Blocked by someone else’s will. Someone with more power than they know.

Now she’s really in for it. If only she could learn to let things go.

“And what are we supposed to do if the real Arthur comes looking for you?” Gaius turns in question.

“Just tell him I’m at the tavern, he’ll never make an appearance there if he doesn’t have to.”

“What are you going to do with her when her powers do return?”

“I will wheel her into the forrest tonight. The spell should last us well past morning light.” This time, Merlin speaks to her. “I’m hoping at that point you’ll just go home and rethink your decision on murdering everyone here and destroying the kingdom.”

Then she’s in a chair, tied down with belts. They forced a tiny tube of liquid down her throat. Or more like poured it in, considering she can’t fight back.

And then they sat back on their stools, six feet away, and studied her.

“Speak.” Merlin commands, followed by a flash of golden eyes. Nimueh was beginning to understand that she didn’t have the upper hand here. Not in the slightest. Her centuries of learning are almost nothing against this boy with the magic of the earth inside him.

“That was disgusting.” Are the first words out of her mouth.

“Well it’s not supposed to be a treat.” Merlin spits. “Why are you here?”

The words come out before she can scramble for control to stop them.

“I’m here to switch a goblet in the chambers of Lord Bayard for the cursed chalice in my possession.”

“For what purpose?” Gaius demands.

“To poison the Prince. To start a war that would tear Camelot and her crown to tiny pieces.”

“Explain your appearance. Why isn’t anyone else seeing Arthur?”

“You were correct, Merlin. You were my target. The enchantment transforms me into the deepest desire of your heart. To everyone else, I was nobody, a peasant they wouldn’t waste the time to look over twice.”

The silence in the room after is deafening.

Merlin is staring at her with wide owl eyes, utterly horrified.

Gaius is looking at Merlin, perplexed.

“What- what’d- I don’t-“ comes out in a string of syllables. “That can’t possibly be.” He whimpers and then buried his head in his hands.

Poor boy.

Love is a miserable beast.

#merthur #merlin #arthur pendragon #merthur fic #crack fic #from the drafts #Nimueh is lowkey impressed #and pitying

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thedrunkenreadersreviews · 3 months

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Regarding Alastor's Hallway Scene in Episode 5 of "Hazbin Hotel"

Good day, folks! As sweet Mimzy said, "...pour a few fingers of rye and he turns into a kitten" so let's do that. Let me set up my Redemption, and let's get into this.

*Sip, sip*

Now, this is quite an interesting thing; the phenomenon of the reactions I have been seeing particularly regarding Alastor in episode 5 of Hazbin Hotel has been ... curiouser and curiouser.

*Sip, sip*

The big question that I think we should be asking after this episode is who Alastor is leashed to---but there seems to be something else on people's minds and that is the interaction Alastor had with Husk in the hallway of the hotel. I mean, every great character needs an epic hallway scene. For Star Wars it was Vader and Luke. For Hazbin, it is Alastor. Let's explore this.

*Sip, sip*

As a society, feasting on entertainment, whether it be through books or films or a series, fans often say that they enjoy the "villain" or "morally grey" character as opposed to those who are set on their compass of goodness. I find this to be a lie that we often tell ourselves and believe completely.

Sure, we find them more entertaining and thus we favor them, but then we try to find excuses for their behavior, make it a despicable act that is done for righteous reasons. Or because we desire to see someone who is tremendously struggling or has a rather horrid reputation overcome this and prove to be a fantastic character underneath all the layers of darkness. We don't like them because they are bad. We may pity them for they often have the most tragic backstories, or we see the potential of their goodness. But we like them because we believe that everyone in their universe has the wrong perspective of their wickedness while we, outsiders looking in, see the potential of their heroics. What they can do despite everything.

That is not liking a character because they are the villain. That is liking a character because of why they are the villain and how they can overcome it.

A few examples:

Rhysand dressing Feyre up like a whore and tattooing her without her consent: well, he was doing that to protect her and help her.

Darth Vader: Mass murderer and second in command of an empire built on absolute control; but he fulfilled the prophecy of the Chosen One and had originally fallen because he wanted to save the love of his life and his unborn children.

Loki: Yeah, he slaughtered 80 people in 2 days, attacked NYC with an alien army killing hundreds if not thousands in the process, and committed genocide prior to that, BUT that's because he was severely broken and now he sits all alone at the end of time, saving an infinite amount of people.

Granted, I love 2/3 of those characters because of the reasons provided. But also because in their prime they were WICKED!

*Sip, sip*

Now let's look at Alastor.

Alastor, the Radio Demon, and one of the most feared overlords of Hell ... threatened one of the souls he owns. And now, I see people comparing him to Val or saying they hated him at that moment or now have a poor taste for him in their mouths. But ... this is exactly what you asked for from him.

*Sip, sip*

Val, who ACTIVELY tortures Angel Dust, is being used as the comparison for Alastor because he THREATENED and scared Husk after Husk stepped over the line.

*Sip, sip*

Alastor, when alive, was a serial killer. Alastor in Hell captured overlords, tortured them, broadcasted the torture throughout Hell, and became one of the most feared overlords.

He didn't do that by being "nice" or "charming." He did that by being vile and not for a greater good. He did it because, as far as we know, he wanted power. And, damn, he got it.

Demons KNOW to be afraid of Alastor. Granted, his reputation may have faltered because he has been away for 7 years but before his departure and even upon his return, for the most part, demons avoid Alastor as though he were death incarnate.

*Sip, sip*

Now, let's examine him in episode 5. Only the scene that is getting the most traction; I'll talk about Alastor and Lucifer in another post. But let's look at this scene:

Alastor and Husk in the hallway.

*Sip, sip*

Let me put some quotes here real quick:

From the Pilot:

Husk to Alastor: "Don't you [Alastor, the owner of my soul] 'Husker' me, you son of a bitch!"

Husk to Alastor: "Are you [Alastor, the owner of my soul] shitting me?"

Husk to Alastor: "You [Alastor, owner of my soul whom I have just shoved off of me] think it must be some big fucking riot just to pull me out of nowhere? You think I'm some kind of fucking clown? [even though I am contractually obligated to obey your summons]"

Husk to Alastor: "I [the one contracted to serve you and obey your commands] ain't doing no fucking charity job [even though you told me by your order that I have to]."

Alastor to Husk: "Don't worry my friend [you, who sold your soul to me so that you could keep your power because you almost gambled it all away], I can make this more welcoming [providing you with something that you enjoy even though you are contractually obligated to obey my commands without payment/reward], if you wish."

From episode 5:

Alastor to Husk: "It's nothing I can't handle, don't worry, Husker. [Proceeds to walk away, leaving the conversation] Who in their right mind would cross me? [Continues to walk away, posing the question as rhetorical and not requiring an answer]."

Husk to Alastor: "... You've been gone a while. And it's not like anybody knows why---"

Alastor to Husk: "They don't need to know. [And it does not need to be discussed further, so leave it alone.] And don't you worry your fuzzy head about it. [Drop it. Drop it now. Don't pick it up]"

Husk to Alastor: "You may own my soul, but I ain't your fucking pet!"

[Personally, I think Val would have instantly backhanded AD for that alone.]

Alastor to Husk: "Hmhm. But you are [So stop talking, just let it go, I'm letting a lot slide here]."

Husk to Alastor [the owner of his soul, who has slaughtered overlords of Hell]: "Big talk for someone who is also on a leash."

Alastor to Husk: "Aha. What did you say? [Now you have tested my patience too much!]"

*Sip, sip*

In the pilot, Husk openly and without fear insults and cusses at Alastor. And what does Alastor, the owner of his soul, do? He lets it slide.

In the one scene between them in the hallway, Alastor essentially still does nothing even though it is evident that Husk struck a nerve. At least twice over in this scene alone, Alastor gives subtle hints to Husk that it is best he just stops. And it is not like he even dismisses Husk's worries about Mimzy or even his absence. It's more along the lines of, "Oh, I know she is in trouble and came here for me to clean up her mess, but I am a bit occupied at the moment dealing with the actual King of Hell, so I'll get to it when I get to it. Just keep her busy for now." And in regards to his absence, he makes it abundantly clear that Husk is better off just not mentioning anything about it. He cuts Husk off, and essentially says, "Look, just keep quiet about it. It's no one's business but mine and I'm fine, I can handle it, so let's just leave it alone."

All the talk people say of Alastor having a big ego, oh undoubtedly, but it makes sense why Husk is in pride in this one scene alone. Alastor tells him "let it go," and moves to walk away from the conversation.

But Husk pushes. And pushes. And on that final shove, I think Husk even knows before Alastor got mad that he went TOO far.

*Sip, sip*

And Alastor still, for the most part, does nothing.

He reminds Husker that he owns his soul, pulls on the chain just to knock Husker off-kilter, and then, rather demonically, tells Husk to not EVER mention the fact that he is leashed again. Honestly, with what Alastor COULD do to Husk ... that was letting him off SUPER easy. Like, Husk should be kissing his feet that that threat was the only punishment he received for that comment.

Val? Forget it. AD would probably be filming for 3 days straight. Alastor doesn't even touch Husk.

This move is also a sense of security for Alastor, I think. Husk probably thought this was just another comment that would result in Alastor just ignoring it. But it takes Alastor by surprise and destroys his comfort. He loses himself in a fit of fury and pulls on Husk's leash to remind both Husk and himself, "Yeah, I might be leashed but I still own YOUR soul, Husk! So do not test me!"

*sip, sip*

So, yeah, Husk gets scared, as he should. Alastor is terrifying.

Should this lessen our opinion of Alastor as it seems to have done with so many fans?

No. Absolutely not. If anything, this scene provides balance to that paradox I supplied earlier; how we like the evil characters because of the good they could do but we should also like them because they are evil and should be expected to do evil things.

Alastor IS evil. He owns Husk's soul.

And yet, this evil overlord allows Husk to get away with soooo much. And when Husk oversteps, as he absolutely did, to not even be smacked by Alastor speaks volumes of Alastor's opinion of Husk.

*Sip, sip*

Here is my speculation:

Husk obviously knows more about Alastor than most. But Alastor owns hundreds if not thousands of souls. Husk is someone he calls on often, obviously. Husk knows Alastor is leashed. Faustisse, a former employee of Spindle Horse, and one of the original teammates beside Viv for the Hazbin project said that Alastor regards Husk as one of his closest friends. Perhaps not friend, but maybe one of his closest confidants. Why else would Husk know that Alastor is leashed? Granted, we cannot tell from the dialogue if Husk knows where Alastor was for 7 years or even if he knows who Alastor is leashed to. To some extent, though, Alastor must trust Husk.

In this scene, Husk violates that trust. He deserved to be threatened, reminded, and terrified. I adore Husk. He is one of my favorite characters and when I saw the hallway scene, I thought Husk deserved way worse than what he got.

And Alastor still takes what Husk had to say about Mimzy into consideration. He still tells Mimzy, a friend he has had since he was alive, that she needs to leave.

*sip, sip*

Yes, Alastor is evil. And it is soooooo good to see him BE evil. And not for a good cause but just because someone got under his skin. He owns Husk and he lets Husk off very easy. So to see him lose his temper and not even physically hurt Husk allows the nugget of possible, minuscule glimmer of somewhat kindness to linger.

I loved the hallway scene. It did a fantastic job of showing us what Alastor COULD be if he really wanted to, why you shouldn't mess with him, and how he elicits fear.

Val lords over his souls through physical abuse. Alastor does it mentally when called for. They are two totally different overlords with really no comparison to be made between them save for this: they are both evil.

*Sip, sip*

Alastor ate in episode 5 and left no crumbs. He remains, quite possibly, the most interesting character in the show. I cannot wait to discover more of him and watch him be absolutely wicked towards others.

Cheers to you, Radio Demon. If I were in Hell and had to be leashed to anyone, I would want to be leashed to you.

*Sip, sip*

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin alastor #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel episode 5 #hazbin hotel pilot

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maryangelex · 7 months

Text

Dark But Sweet (Pt.2)

Maintenance Guy! Simon "Ghost" Riley x f! Reader

Part 1 here

Summary: Meeting Simon has left you wanting more, making any and every excuse to have his company once again. Until all your efforts finally prove effective.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, descriptive language, fluff at the beginning, smut, p in v sex, cowgirl, oral sex (male receiving), simon is shy but cheeky, dirty talking, pulling out, cumshots/cumming on belly.

A/N: this was so fun to write!! heavy on the smut so be warned!! once again let me extend a formal apology to the Brits reading this.

I know it's long, but let me know how you liked it!!!

Ever since Simon had visited your flat to make the repair, you had been finding every which way to see him again. You made it your mission almost every day to find an excuse to talk to him.

Thankfully, your flat was still in disarray; pieces of pesky IKEA furniture needed to be put together, shelves needed to be installed on your wall, and lightbulbs needed to be switched. The truth was that you could do most of these things, you weren't an idiot. But Simon didn't know that, as far as he was concerned you were just a girl incapable of repairing her own place.

So, you used your feigned incompetence to your advantage.

A few days after he fixed the plumbing, you woke up extra early that morning to bake a whole tray of biscuits and packed them neatly in your freshest Tupperware.

I'm in 1B if you need anythin' else.

And there you were, facing the bold metal digits on the worn wooden door of Simon's flat. You took a deep breath, biscuits in tow. You hesitantly raised your hand to the door, taking a second before you lightly tapped your knuckles to the wood.

Your face heated in anticipation, your heart solidifying into stone, and your throat went dry as if you had just done something malicious.

A few seconds passed and there was no movement, no sounds heard from inside. Maybe he didn't hear you, your knuckles had been light on the door. So you went for a second attempt, this time more confident and audible.

You shifted, clearing your throat and straightening your posture, readying yourself to face the man.

But once again, nothing.

You knitted your brows together, confusion and fear rising in you. Were you in the wrong flat? 1B, you remembered. What if he was busy with something? With someone? Your mind started racing as embarrassment crept on you.

"Need somethin', love?"

You jumped, your body jolting at the sudden sound of a deep voice breaking the deafening silence. A small gasp came from you as you turned around to see Simon standing behind you.

"Jesus!" you breathed, clutching at your chest. Your heart had skipped a beat when Simon spoke behind you.

You craned your head to look at the tall man. When your eyes caught up to his face, you saw the small smirk across his lips, and the look in his eyes was almost amused as he gazed down at you.

"Didn't mean to scare you, love." he said apologetically

Love, you were sure the man didn't even know your name, but you couldn't complain about having Simon calling you that.

"No worries! Sorry I, erm, I was just lookin' for you!" you stumbled over your words, a nervous chuckle exiting you.

You watched the man in front of you, your face and chest heating the more details you noticed. Evidently, he had just gone on a run. He was wearing short shorts, hugging his strong quads tightly. His shirt was tucked into the waistband of his shorts, draping like a towel. Making the upper half of his body completely exposed.

You gulped at the sight and realization that Simon, the man you were swooning over, was standing in front of you shirtless, with only a glossy layer of sweat dressing his upper body. His skin was bronzed from being exposed to the sun, and his tattoo sleeve was radiant from the sweat coating his toned arms. The muscles in his torso were tight and--

Shit, you were gawking at him again. Your eyes were devouring him and it couldn't be more obvious.

"Do you need help with somethin' else, love?" He quirked a sweaty brow at you.

"Y-Yes, actually! I just... I have a load of furniture that I, erm, I need to put it together and--"

"Not a problem, love" he interrupted your rambling, his voice soft, "I'll be up to put 'em together for you."

Your beaming eyes met his, a smile spreading wide across your red hot cheeks. You let out a small nervous giggle. Suddenly, you felt the weight and shape of the container nestled under your arm.

"Oh! These are for you," you extended your arms toward him, exhibiting the container full of enough biscuits to last him the whole year. Simon's eyes grew wide as he looked at it, his expression becoming flustered.

"I...can't accept that, really," he cleared his throat.

"Please, I made too many and can't eat them all by myself." you insisted, arms not faltering.

Simon made a noise that sounded like a grunt of appreciation as he took the container. He mumbled his gratitude. As much as he protested whenever you offered him or gifted him food, you loved seeing how flustered he got. It was no secret that the man had an appetite and that he genuinely liked and appreciated the meals.

You had decided that food would be your way into this man's heart.

That day Simon went up to your apartment after showering and changing into fresh clothes. You spent the afternoon on the floor of your apartment with him, putting together your furniture as if you were a newly moved-in couple. The whole time you were near him, you took in his scent and his appearance, as if he was a bouquet of flowers with an aroma that drew you in as much as its flowers' beauty did.

He smelled like a deep, manly cologne with a hint of vanilla; dark but sweet. Everything about him was like that. His voice, his scent, his demeanor. And you were enthralled, completely absorbed in his presence. When he finished and left, you felt a coldness in your flat once again. His company was warm, and every time he left you were left wanting more of him.

So for the next two weeks, you showed up at his door with a new recipe packed in a container and a new thing for him to help you fix. Each time he greeted you with a growing smile, getting less flustered with every meal you packed him, taking it more confidently and outwardly grateful; no more protesting from him.

One day you genuinely needed him, the damn shower wouldn't turn any other temperature besides freezing cold. So you showed up at his door with a meal, this time it was a salmon recipe you had found online, and were greeted by him like usual.

"Hey, Simon," you started, although he knew where you were going at this point. "The shower, it just won't get hot" You laughed lightly and he gave you a knowing smirk. He took the container as you extended it to him.

"I'll head upstairs, love," he said, his voice sultry and a deeper rumble than usual. "I had somethin' to ask you, actually."

You froze, your stomach doing a flip. Fuck, you thought, he's finally caught on and gotten tired of these little transactions.

"You're always bringin' me food," he began, "and I've been thinkin'..."

Your face bloomed beet red, a knot tying in your throat.

Shit, he's putting an end to it, the time finally fucking came!

"If it'd be alright if I could return the favor for you?"

You felt your heart clench like it had stopped beating. And you hadn't noticed, but your hands were clenched into tight fists, bracing yourself in anticipation. But his words made your tense body relax.

"Wha--How do you mean?" you babbled, puzzled by his question.

"I'm askin' you on a date, sweetheart" he clarified, a cocky grin curling his lips. "I'll cook for you if you let me."

You blinked, paralyzed by his invitation. You took a moment to breathe, not realizing you had been holding your breath all along.

“Well, I— Sure!” You finally said. Simon huffed, a mix of relief and amusement at your answer, your flustered and stuttered response.

“Good, I’ll see you tomorrow night.” His words were like a command.

“What will you cook for me?” You asked with a smirk of your own.

“You’ll have to wait and see,” he said as he stepped out of his flat, “dress nice for me.” He gave you a cheeky smile before closing the door behind him, tools in hand to head over to your flat.

For him, you repeated in your mind. On the way back to your flat with him you couldn’t help but ruminate over the fact that he asked you out. You were elated, the whole rest of the day and morning after all you did was anticipate your date with Simon.

When the moment finally came, you were at Simon’s door once again, wearing a brand new dress that you got just for him. Nothing too fancy but not casual either. You made the effort of putting on some makeup, even. The blush you had applied was amplified by the natural one that lightly heated your cheeks as you nervously waited for him to open the door. You fidgeted with the light fabric of your dress anxiously.

The sound of the door creaking open snapped you out of your nervous thoughts. You flashed Simon a bright smile, your lipstick accentuating it. He was standing beside the open door, his eyes trailing down your body, scanning you and making you feel exposed.

“Y’look pretty, love,” he said with a smirk. It made a fire light in you. You thanked him and you stepped inside with his hand signaling you to come in.

In all this time you had never been inside Simon’s flat until now. It was neat and clean, a fresh candle smell wafting in the air. Your eyes scanned it curiously.

His decor was modest and reserved, just like him. His furniture was simple yet cozy, and the color palette was muted; dark neutrals like grays and browns, some pops of navy. The lighting was moody and dimmed.

There were little personal details like a picture of him huddled with three other men. You took a few seconds longer to admire it, relishing the way he looked surrounded with what you deemed yo be his closest friends.

You suddenly felt Simon’s presence behind you, his body radiating a comforting warmth.

“May I?” His voice was soft, hands raised over your shoulders asking to help you remove your coat.

You nodded and gave him your approval with a polite smile as you shimmied the coat off your shoulders, letting him slide it off. His knuckles brushed against your skin and left goosebumps. You felt his gaze momentarily gracing the skin exposed by the straps of your dress.

He hung up your coat by the hooks near his entrance. You watched him head to the dining area to pull the chair out for you which you happily sat at.

“You’re quite the gentleman, Simon,” you said.

“Is it surprising?”

“Not at all,” you looked at him behind you, your eyes adoring.

You watched him as he shifted around his kitchen, preparing dishes and plating them expertly and delicately. As if he was preparing a masterpiece for you with the utmost effort. He was deeply concentrated in his cooking, and you were deeply concentrated in the ways he moved as you watched him from your seat. The way the muscles on his back shifted and bulged under his shirt, how his profile was chiseled and pointed.

He made his way back to you moments later with two plates that he placed on the table respectively. Then he poured a freshly opened bottle of wine into your cup followed by his. You took a sip as he watched you expectantly. You hummed at the taste approvingly and licked your lips, a movement that he watched closely. And with that he sat across from you, eyeing you as you tasted the food.

It melted in your tongue, eliciting a delighted moan from you. You caught him smirking as he asked if it was good. Good was not enough to describe it. All this time you had been cooking for him while his abilities were even beyond yours. He watched you eat, pleased with how much you were enjoying it, before he finished his own meal and wine.

The two of you chatted over your meal. You were a tipsy mess laughing at his dry humor. Maybe it was the wine or maybe it was just your massive crush that made him funny because the man said the strangest things. And you got a few laughs out of him, at least that’s what you thought the deep rumbling and huffing that came out of him was.

“Thank you, Simon,” you said, batting your lashes at him across the table. He was reclined in his chair, his blonde lashes fanning over his hooded eyes as he gave you a sultry look. You felt exposed under his gaze, your face flushed by a mix of the wine and his overwhelming gaze.

“No, thank you for the company, love,” he said in that pleasant, rough voice of his. It made your heart skip a beat.

You stood up from your chair and picked up the dishes to take to the sink. He moved a hand to stop you, but you insisted, “Let me thank you properly, Simon!”

It made him grunt in displeasure, but he let you.

As you stood over the sink, letting the water rinse the dishes, you felt his presence behind you again.

“There’s another way for you to thank me, if you’re interested,” his voice was low and you felt his hot breath near your ear, making you shiver and your movements freeze. The heat of his body was radiating towards you, he was centimeters away from you, you could almost feel the solid mass of him.

Your head turned over your shoulder as you watched his hands come up to your sides.

“I’m interested,” you said, biting your lip. The feeling of his hands was burning you as they rested on your waist, the front of his body now pressing against your back.

You pressed back towards him, feeling a stiffness against your rear. It made a small whine grow in your throat, and you heard Simon’s breath hitch at the motion; his hands gripped the flesh of your flanks tighter.

You felt the tip of his nose against your ear, then his lips gracing the shell.

“Come with me, then, love,” he said almost a whisper, “show me your gratitude.”

You turned around to face him, his body still close to you as his hands remained on your waist. He gently guided you to his living room, not leaving your proximity.

There, you gently placed a hand to his abdomen, lightly pushing him to direct him to sit down at the armchair behind him. He complied, reclining back on it with his broad thighs spread wide to make room for you, invitingly. You could see the outline of his member through the fabric of his pants, making your mouth water and the heat in your core flare up.

You sank down to kneel in front of him, nestled between his strong legs, and your hands lay flat on his thighs. You gave them a squeeze, more to ground yourself than to tease him, and you felt the bulks of solid muscle hidden under the fabric. His hands rested relaxed on the arms of the chair, letting you take your time.

Your hands slid up his thigh at a snail’s pace until you reached the waist of his pants. You trailed around the crotch of his pants, avoiding his stiffened member and watched as your teasing made his breath falter, his stomach sinking.

You watched his face as your hands caressed him. His lips were slightly parted, glossy with his spit, and his already dark eyes were black voids, glimmering as he watched you between his legs. His hands now tightened into anticipating fists.

Finally, your fingers made it to the button of his pants, undoing it; followed by his zipper, which you slowly dragged down. It made Simon lightly shift in his seat, giving you a chance to gently tug down his pants along with his boxers.

His cock sprang free and your eyes widened at the size of it. Simon gripped the base of it, giving it a few slow pumps in front of your face.

“Too much for you, love?” He said with a cocky smile, enjoying the look on your face. You shook your head and gulped the saliva flooding your mouth before you replaced his hand with yours. He removed his own, letting you take hold of it entirely. The feeling of your silky hands on his cock made him groan quietly.

You gave it a few painfully slow pumps, from base to tip, pressing your thumb to the red, leaky slit. Simon cursed under his breath.

He was well endowed, very well, actually. And as you pumped his cock slowly you pondered how it would even be possible for you to take him.

Your hand stilled at the base and you leaned forward, setting your lips with your tongue before brushing them over his tip. Simon held his breath, hands steady on the armrests.

You gave it an experimental kiss, eyeing him from between his legs. Then, you flattened your tongue against the head, licking a stripe over it, followed by another lick, this time along the shaft.

Simon reached his hand out to you, using a finger to tuck your hair behind your ear, then letting the hand rest against your cheek.

You looked up at him with doe eyes as you finally encapsulated the head of his cock with your mouth, giving it a light suck that made a “pop” sound. His lips parted further as he let out a breath he had been holding.

“Fuckin’ tease, baby,” he growled.

Baby, you liked that new one. You liked it a lot, actually.

You rewarded him by sliding your mouth down his shaft, taking him into your mouth inch by inch. Barely half way you were already gagging. You relaxed your throat to take him in forward.

Simon let out a sound, a long and quiet curse under his breath. His hand on your cheek moved further back into your hair, lightly grasping some of it.

The feeling of his fingers tightening into your hair made you moan, the vibration in your throat going straight to his cock, and the tight feeling going straight to your soaking cunt. You closed your thighs closed for some relief.

You took as much of him as you could before you retracted your head, sliding back up to the tip. You released him from your mouth and let out a sigh, saliva connecting your lips to his cock. It wasn’t even a second after that you took his cock back into your mouth, this time with more confidence.

Then you finally bobbed your head up and down on it, setting a steady pace. Your hands rested on Simon’s thighs and you felt his muscles tense under your touch. You heard his soft sounds as he basked in the feeling of you sucking his cock.

Your eyes fell closed for a moment before you felt his grip on your hair tighten.

“Uh-uh, look at me, sweetheart, up here.” He cooed, and you obeyed when your eyes snapped up to meet his. He watched you attentively under his long lashes, and you looked up at him with wide, blown pupils as your head bobbed up and down on his cock.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby,” he groaned. His other hand reached into your hair as he used both of them to style your hair into a ponytail. His touch was gentle and careful, and he gripped the hair with one of his fists. This allowed him to direct your pace now, making your head move up and down quickly.

It made another moan rumble in your throat, making his hips buck at the sound and sensation. His grip on your hair was tight and demanding and you'd be lying if you said you weren't loving it. You loved the fact that you were making Simon feel good with your mouth wrapped around his cock; evident by the way he tensed under you, how his hand guided your performance, the low growls that brewed in his chest along with the faint curses that came from his gritted teeth.

Your saliva soaked and dripped down his shaft, down to the base of his cock where it met his pelvis, the hair slightly dampening with a mix of it and with his sweat. Your pace was quicker, especially now that Simon started thrusting his hips up, fucking into your mouth.

With a commanding tug of your hair, he pulled you off his cock. The sudden release made you whine loudly, your spit coating your lips and dripping down your chin. You looked at him, cockdrunk and disheveled. You gave him a puzzled look as to why he stopped.

Then, Simon leaned forward, his fist not letting go of your hair as he crashed his lips against yours. You melted into it, savoring how buttery they were, their plumpness, as you audibly moaned into it. His tongue slipped into your mouth and he tasted the mix of you and himself in it.

He pulled away and whispered against your lips, his tone commanding, "Stand up, love."

He let go of your hair as you complied and stood up in front of him. He sat up on the chair, his hands on your waist now as he looked up at you. You looked back down at him, his pupils were swallowing you whole with a hungry gaze. You felt his hands smooth up and down your body, his touch heavy on you as if he was molding you like a piece of clay, learning the curves of your body and the tenderness of your flesh. You whimpered at the feeling of him touching you, something you had longed for the moment you met him.

His hands slipped under the hem of your dress, running up your bare skin.

"Been wantin' to feel you since the day I saw you," he purred, "so soft n' pretty."

The mix of his words and touch gave you goosebumps. He's been wanting you just as much as you have, you thought.

His fingers hooked onto the waist of your lacy panties, tugging them down lightly, not breaking eye contact with you as he watched you bite your lower lip, your cheeks flustered. Your hands rested on his shoulders as you let him. His knuckles ghosted against the skin of your legs as he took the panties off. You complacently stepped out of the garment.

"Good girl, lettin' me take these pretty wet panties off you." He bunched them in his fist, bringing the crotch up to his mouth, his eyes glued to yours as he stuck his tongue out to taste them before setting them aside. The sight made your pussy flutter, you were practically dripping down your thigh.

He hummed at the taste of you, then took hold of the back of your thigh with one hand and the other on the small of your back, guiding you to straddle him on the chair as he reclined back. You were now sitting on top of him, legs spread on each side of him with his thighs supporting you over him. Your face was impossibly red.

Your hands trailed down his chest, feeling the hardened muscles you had memorized the day you saw him shirtless and sweaty. Then down to his abdomen and v-line. The images he had teased you with on your previous meetings flashed in your memory. And now here he was, under you; you sitting on top of him with a sopping wet cunt that begged for him to touch it.

It was like he read your mind when his hand snaked under your dress once again, two of his fingers sliding between your slick folds, making you wince when they brushed over your swollen clit.

"Simon," you begged. It made him chuckle to see you so eager for him to touch you, and he rewarded you with a finger sliding into your entrance. Your mouth fell agape as you whined at the intrusion, your hand clasping around the fabric of his shirt.

"Feels good, love?" his finger slid in and out of you.

"M-More, please," your voice was soft and pleading.

"So needy," he teased before inserting a second finger, "You ask so nicely, baby."

The pressure of his two thick digits inside you made a moan fall from your lips, your walls clasping around them. You heard a satisfied hum from Simon as he felt your tightness.

"This pretty pussy's so tight, love. Y'get this wet from sucking my cock?" His voice was husky and gentle. His fingers alternated between curling inside you and pumping in and out at a slow and steady pace.

You nodded shamelessly in response, unable to form even the simplest answers, all you could muster were whimpers and moans. The pace of his fingers quickened, and you were seeing starts; a loud moan escaped you.

"Ahh, Simon!" your back arched, your hips involuntarily rolling. His hand on the small of your back was splayed out, supporting you as he held you closer to him. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to the exposed skin of your chest, your shoulder, your neck, your jaw.

"Love hearin' you say my name, love," he purred against your skin before planting another kiss on it with those plush lips of his.

Your hands flew to the back of his neck, your fingers entwining in the hair there as you held him close to you. His fingers curled inside of you as you rolled your hips and fucked yourself on his digits.

"Want you to make yourself cum on my fingers, baby."

And you obliged, chasing your high as you rode his fingers, grinding your clit against his palm while he buried his fingers in you.

Your orgasm grew within you, you were at the cusp of it. Your hips were sloppy, you threw your head back with your eyes screwed shut as Simon fingered you to your climax. It hit you like a strike of lightning when you came, convulsing against Simon's hold and letting out choaked-out moans along with his name like a prayer.

"That's it, pretty girl," he soothed, letting you ride it out on his hand before he removed it from you. His other hand came up to your jaw, angling it to his face so he could press his lips against yours again.

You panted, lips lax against Simon's as he kissed you tenderly. You were out of it, coming down from your high. Then you realized the man under you was still painfully hard, his cock swollen and balls full; you hadn't achieved your goal of thanking him yet.

"Simon, I..." you started, biting your lip. The rest of the sentence felt too filthy to sound out, despite your recent shameless actions; so you brought your hand to his manhood, pumping it slowly and lightly. He understood what you meant, giving you a small chuckle.

"Wanna take care of me, sweetheart?" He cooed against your lips before giving you a chaste kiss. You nodded, reciprocating the kiss.

He hiked the hem of your dress up, exposing your lower half, and took hold of your hips to lift them up for access. You took his thick member in one of your hands, using the other hand on his shoulder for leverage as you angled his cock and sank down on it.

A long, breathy moan escaped the two of you in unison as the feeling of his large, thick dick entered your sensitive cunt.

"That's it, takin' me so well, sweet girl," he groaned as he bottomed out inside you, his pelvis flush against you. He remained still for a moment, basking in the sensation of your walls around his cock. It made you clench around him, trying to find a way to ease the burn of his cock stretching you out, and trying to find a release for your aching desire.

"Please, Simon," you begged.

"Use your words, darling."

"Please, fuck me, Simon." Your eyes were wide as you looked down at him, pleading him to move.

"Good girl," he praised, the grip on your hips tightened again as he lifted them up and sank them back down ever so slowly, finally moving. You whined in relief as he finally began fucking you, giving you what you had been pining for this whole time.

Simon bounced you up and down on his cock slowly at first, then picked up the pace and maintained it. His hands migrated to firmly grasp the plump flesh of your ass. You were sure you'd have the imprint of his large hands the next day.

Your arms were wrapped over his shoulders, supporting yourself as you were lifted up and down. Your legs spread as far as they could, letting him enter with as much ease as possible, making as much room for him to fill you up and fuck into you.

Simon's face was buried in the crook of your neck, huffing breaths against your skin. He lifted and planted you on his cock, over and over, at a relentless pace, making you a mess of moans all over again, him also becoming desperate to reach his climax.

His hips began thrusting up into you, making the head of his cock hit your back wall. You let out a loud moan at the feeling of him bullying his cock against your cervix, the feeling made you clench around him tightly

"Fuck...fuck, baby, your pussy's so good...huggin' my cock so tight. Y'like how I fuck you, pretty girl?"

"Yes!" You cried, tears welling in your eyes as Simon fucked up into you mercilessly, bouncing yourself in tandem with his thrusts. "Fuckin' me so good, Simon!" your words were slurred.

Simon groaned. He pressed a hand against the center of your abdomen, making you lean back on his cock, reaching a new angle that made his cock hit that sweet spot perfectly. The pressure making your vision hazy. Your hands reached behind you, supporting yourself on Simon's knees as he took hold of your hips and slammed you against his cock.

He cursed under his breath, his eyes rolling to the back of his head for a moment, then fixing them on your vulnerable form, watching as your tits jiggled under your dress from the force of his thrusts. He was getting sloppy, on the edge of his climax.

But you came first, walls fluttering around his cock, hips faltering and shaking from your orgasm. Your mouth fell open into an o-shape as you let out a string of lewd moans and chants of Simon's name.

He was close behind, closer than ever, "That's it, that's it, baby... 'm close, so fuckin' close."

You whimpered, watching his needy face; jaw clenched, those feathery blonde brows knitted together.

"Wanna make me cum, pretty girl? That how y'wanna thank me?"

You nodded fervently, "Wanna make you, cum Simon, please, please please."

You let him use you to reach his climax. He rolled your dress up higher, exposing your tummy to him. And he immediately released his cock from the confines of your pussy, strings of cum splattering over your exposed belly and cunt. His lips fell open as he let out a breathy moan. The sight of his cock painting you with his cum made you bite your lip to suppress a whine.

The two of you sat there catching your breath. Simon reclined back on the chair, his hands holding you up by your ribs when you could barely sit up straight. You were both covered in a film of sweat, cheeks flushed, looking disheveled, and you had a mess of cum over you.

"Fuck, 'm sorry, love," he took a handful of tissues from the side table next to the chair and cleaned you up diligently and carefully. You hummed, giving him a tipsy smile.

" 's okay," was all you could enunciate. Simon chuckled at your fucked-out demeanor, tossing aside the tissues as he leaned forward to plant a tender kiss on your cheek.

"Guess we're even now," you said, placing a hand on his cheek, pressing a thumb against his lower lip.

"You won't be needin' my services anymore?" he said cockily.

You smiled at him, "I think I'll be needing them more after this."

Taglist (everyone that commented in part 1! thank you!): @hexxxsstuff @valkyriekill @ghostlythots @tumblinginoz @chocolatetakoyakis @cumikering @yvng97

#call of duty mwii #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #ghost riley #simon ghost riley #fanfic #simon ghost x reader #cod fanfic #headcanon #cod au #call of duty au #maintenance guy au #simon riley au #ghost riley au

119 notes · View notes

dreamingcloudie · 1 year

Note

Dottore who never really got sick just magically got a fever one day and despite his stubbornness, you insisted on taking care of him 💙

❛❛A Doctor's Doctor❜❜

✎ ❛❛ I might have to get sick more often, just so you can take care of me again. ❜❜

Pairing(s): Dottore x GN!Reader

Genre/Format: Fluff (Oneshot)

Warning(s): Use of Dottore's (speculated) real name, finished this at 5am so there might be some errors

wc: ~1.2k

Notes: Thank you sm Anon for sending this to me!! It's time for this softie to get well taken care of (as he should). I hope you like it!!! 💕💕 Might change some stuff when I wake up but we'll see

Any feedback is greatly appreciated! ♡

Before meeting you, whenever Dottore got sick, he’d just ignore the signals his body was trying to warn him. Got a cold? He’d just work it away. Caught a flu? Pop some pills and continue on about his day. No one was there to drag him to bed or look after him, he had to take care of himself in his own way. When was the last time he had been taken care of? Has he even ever experienced that? What was it like being mothered? He wondered. He didn't grow up with the warmth of a mother. So the idea of being in a state where you’re so vulnerable to the point you need someone else to take care of you made him feel… frightened.

That was until you waltz right into his heart. It’s not often Dottore would get sick. It has been quite some time since the two of you were together. You were almost convinced this man was immune to any sickness… that was until he suddenly caught himself in a sneezing fit.

You have been sitting next to him for almost an hour, watching him as he worked, well, tried to. He was about to proceed with a step that he needed to be extra cautious with when–

“ah-CHOO.”

…And the sound of glass breaking on the floor followed through.

‘Twenty-five,’ you counted. “Love, that was the twenty-fifth sneeze you had let out for the past hour. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Mhm, I’m fine,” he grunted. His brow frowning as he looked at the shattered pieces on the floor. He soon regretted it when he looked right into the lights reflected off of the glass shards, making him feel even more nauseous.

Slightly cringing at how his voice came out hoarse. You reached your hand out to his face so you could make him turn to you and took his mask off. As you set your sight on him, you gasped at how red his face was. Beads of sweat were rolling down and bags were visible under his eyes. Placing your hand on his forehead, you could feel how abnormally high his temperature was.

“Oh Archons, you got a fever!”

“Dove, you could’ve just said that I’m hot–”

“No. What I meant was you’re sick.” You then stood up and attempted to drag him to your shared bed. “Get up, we’re getting you to bed.”

But to your dismay, he did not budge.

“Zandik, you’re not going to work like this,” you argued.

“I really am fine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

You wanted to protest, but you knew it would only make his condition worse. Having no other choices, you decided to just leave him be for now and stomped out of his lab. On your way out, you bumped into one of his segments — a younger version of himself.

“Ah! My apologies, darling. I didn’t see you there.” He gave you a sheepish smile.

“It’s alright…” You trailed off as you stared at him.

Then an idea came into mind.

“PRIME!”

Gritting his teeth. Dottore winced at the sudden loud noise that made his ears ring.

“What is it?” He was starting to lose his patience, his fever was getting him on his nerves.

“It’s (Y/n)! They were in the bedroom and–”

Dottore didn’t even let his segment finish and he rushed to your shared bedroom. Something bad must’ve happened if his clone came to him in a hurry and said your name. He came barging into the room and what he saw almost made him faint. You were laying on the bed, covered in layers and layers of bandages stained with blood. As he got closer to check on you. You shot out of your covers and wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him down onto the bed with you and sat right on top of him, restraining his movements.

“Gotcha.” You smiled at him in triumph.

He was confused, but quickly caught on. “What is the meaning of this? I won’t be taking any rest–”

“Yes you are. I may not be a doctor but I know when someone is sick. Besides, you’re on the bed now, so might as well just lay down.”

He was about to deny your request, then he looked into your eyes.

“But my work…”

“Just leave it for now. At least until you get a bit better.”

How could he say no when you were looking at him with such pleading eyes? Damn it, why must you make denying you that hard?

“Fine,” he grumbled.

Your worried expression then melts into a softened one.

“Great! Now, I’ll go brew you some tea, so don’t go anywhere, got it?”

You got off of him and took the bandages colored with red food coloring off. As you did so, you caught a glimpse of a look of grimace on Dottore’s face. Well, gotta do what you need to do to get him to bed. Better safe than sorry, right? You then went to brew him some tea and tasked the segment who followed him to the bedroom to keep him in bed, giving him a high five as he passed you. When you came back with a cup of steamy ginger tea in your hand, you were met with a comedic sight. The segment was laying right on top of Dottore, trying to keep him from getting up.

“Let me get up, you rascal! You’re supposed to follow my orders, damn it!”

“I’m sorry, Prime. But (Y/n) said you need rest–”

The segment noticed you standing by the door. He gave you pleading eyes to help calm his master down.

You gave Dottore his cup of tea, advising him to drink slowly so he wouldn’t burnt his tongue off. Then you put a cool washcloth on him to get his fever down, changing it every once in a while when it gets warm. At one point, Dottore asked if you could give him some painkillers for his headache. You went to fetch some and to your surprise, he was still in the bed when you came back, looking all snug underneath the covers. You couldn’t help but cooed at how cute he looked. His face flushed in embarrassment but luckily for him, it was disguised as he had fever.

You glared at Dottore. “What did I say about leaving the bed?” You scolded him like he was a misbehaving five-year-old, which he kind of was acting like one. When he saw you, he let out a huff and leaned back onto the mattress.

“Whatever,” he groaned. Looking right behind you, his segment was snickering to himself, but immediately left the room when he could feel Prime staring right into his soul.

A few hours have passed by, you put the thermometer in his mouth. Letting out a sigh of relief momentarily when the red line was not as high as it was before.

“Alright, good news. Your temperature is not as high now. I suppose you can continue your work.”

“...Actually, I’ll just wait until I’m fully recovered,” he said, having gotten used to your tender care.

“Oh, now you want to rest, huh?” you teased.

“It feels nice being taken care of,” he confessed. “I didn’t have anyone to take care of me when I was sick.”

You held his hand up to where your face was and kissed his palm.

“But now I do.”

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin x yn #dottore #genshin impact #dottore x reader #dottore x y/n #dottore x you #dottore fluff #fatui #fatui harbinger #fatui x reader #fatui harbinger x reader

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i-want-my-iwtv · 4 months

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How do you interpret the Louis vampire transformation in the book, not the show. It seems very sexual from my understanding although Lestat is a complete a**hole. I'm starting to reread the books again it's been awhile.

…"Are we close to God when we create something out of nothing? When we pretend we are the tiny flame and we make other flames?"

nansorella, this question could be an essay answer 💗! I'm glad to hear you're rereading the books, definitely try to get through TOBT if you can, that's where the above quote came from. There's a lot of layers with Lestat giving the Dark Gift to Louis. But I'll try to keep this as short as I can, and we can always delve further in a follow up ;}

[^X by @xxhellonursexx, read the caption on that bc it's in line with my answer on this ask! Vampiric feeding could be compared to breastfeeding, but specifically their turning is really the most comparable, a child feeding on the nutrition from their parent's own body.]

Focusing on the book, yes, my reading is that it's intentionally very sexual (even complete a**holes can be capable of sex!). Since vampires can't get pregnant, the Dark Gift is their method of sexual reproduction; I would argue that it's the most intimate act they can perform. Yes Lestat is being more than a bit of an a**hole in that moment but I can excuse it partly bc it was AR's first time writing a vampire turning and Lestat was for sure the main antagonist in that story, so he had to be sassy/cruel even in what should have been a loving moment but that's another entire discussion. Ppl can be awful during the act of giving birth, too, so... yeah... I would also argue that the '94 movie softened that scene somewhat, Lestat was positively thrilled about doing it and wasn't awful to Louis (except for when he had to break away from Louis, but that's also comparable to childbirth, which has pain involved for sure, and then you can see how sexually gratified he is laying back and watching Louis transform after they separate so ANYWAY!).

Since Lestat has so many fledglings, it was kind of a fandom joke that every time X sound occurs, Lestat makes another fledgling... maybe it's because he gets so much pleasure out of performing the act itself, and, transforming someone into a vampire, he gains a kind of parental and creative ownership of that person. It's his blood in them, after all!

Louis describes the act of killing as being a celebration of his making, (my bold & italics emphasis added):

"Killing is no ordinary act," said the vampire. "One doesn't simply glut oneself on blood." He shook his head. "It is the experience of another's life for certain, and often the experience of the loss of that life through the blood, slowly. It is again and again the experience of that loss of my own life, which I experienced when I sucked the blood from Lestat's wrist and felt his heart pound with my heart. It is again and again a celebration of that experience; because for vampires that is the ultimate experience."

[X for a great gifset of this quote by @fetch-me-a-block]

And then in Tale of the Body Thief, Lestat's reflecting on the creation of Claudia in a similar way to how ppl talk about the creation of their children:

[^X St. Patrick’s Cathedral, NYC, 11/7/15.]

“I lifted the long wax wick, dipped it into an old flame, and carried the fire to a fresh candle, watched the little tongue grow orange and bright. What a miracle, I thought. One tiny flame could make so many other flames; one tiny flame could set afire a whole world. Why, I had, with this simple gesture, actually increased the sum total of light in the universe, had I not? …«But why, Lestat?» Because she was beautiful, because she was dying, because I wanted to see if it would work. Because nobody wanted her and she was there, and I picked her up and held her in my arms. Because it was something I could accomplish, like the little candle flame in the church making another flame and still retaining its own light - my way of creating, my only way, don’t you see? One moment there were two of us, and then we were three. …«Are we close to God when we create something out of nothing? When we pretend we are the tiny flame and we make other flames?»

That book has an undercurrent of Claudia haunting Lestat (possibly as a ghost, but possibly as just his own imaginary manifestation of her) and pestering him about why he created her, maybe trying to provoke him into an apology, and I feel like he's able to make peace with her in his ruminations about her in that book. This is why I encourage ppl to read the canon books, even on beyond the first 3, because there are gems like this that add a richness to the characters, we can explore them along with Anne Rice 💗💗💗

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the-salem-devil · 1 year

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Hey ummm, if you're still taking requests, can i request a fic where hunter is a vampire x reader, maybe a female reader or gn doesn't matter, maybe smut? If you're okay with that ofc

You can ignore this is you want to 🥲

HUNTER WITTEBANE X FEM!READER [NSFW HEADCANNONS: VAMPIRE]

Awww, you’re so sweet! And as a nerd for mythology and folklore I can assure you this was burden my love ❤️

[TW: EXTREMELY GENTLE FEEDING, I DON’T DO EXTREME BLOODPLAY BUT GENTLE VAMPIRE FEEDING IS EXCUSED.]

-Remember when Luz called him an, ‘bad but sad’ boy, yeah?

-That would only increase tenfold if he was a vampire, I wouldn’t call him the brooding tortured type like good ol’ Edward Cullen over here, but he’d have even more deep rooted fears in him.

-So afraid of biting you, bloodlust thrums under his skin constantly but after years of training he’s got a pretty good hold on it.

-You’d be his favourite smell, he would never bite you, ever, even if you asked him (at least, at first) he would never bare his fangs for you, though he couldn’t control breathing in your sweet smell.

-The only time he’d ever give into the temptation (for the first time at least, someone as sexy as you is hard to deny) is when you’d ask him all pretty in the throes of passion.

-Here’s how it’d start:

-Slowly sinking inside of you, he’d lay gently on top of you so his nose buries itself in your neck, guilt always grew in his chest but he couldn’t help himself, he breathed in your lovely scent.

-It wasn’t just your blood though, his senses were so enhanced he could realise things mortals and witches couldn’t, he could smell your shampoo, soap, natural scents and the lightest sheen of sweat.

-It was all yours, so he loved it.

-You bucked into him with a soft cry, running your fingers through his blond hair, your breathe hitches and the sound booms in his sensitive ears, as does the beat of your heart.

-Your moans and gasps get him harder than anything else, knowing he’s actually making you feel good turns on not only his body, but his entire being, down to his worn heart.

-He’d circle his hips gently, pushing in deeper, careful to not hurt you but knowing you wanted him to speed up a bit.

-You pushed against him, eager to be close as possible, and that meant pushing your skin right against his nose, and he (much to his embarrassment) almost let out a loud moan at your scent.

-Your blood was so sweet, he loved every layer of you, but that smell haunted him, he didn’t sleep, but if he did, he knows he would dream of that, of this,

-You writhing gently underneath him as he finally buried himself to the hilt, your ambrosia getting so warm under your flushed skin.

-Of course you noticed how he reacted, the way he’d wrap his arms around you and lay his head in your neck, how he’d hide his face in your collarbone, and there was something you wanted, craved.

-“Hunter..” you scratched gently at his scalp to get his attention, “P-Please bite me.”

-That made him freeze, the gently thrusts that were gaining momentum stopping entirely much to your libido’s disappointment.

-He’d pull his face out of your neck, and despite the flush on his cheeks and the heavy lidded look in his gaze, you could see the panicked confusion plaguing his features.

-“W-What do you mean, why would you want that?” He’d sputter out, and you felt embarrassment start to rise in you, but you got to see it to the end, my boy.

-You continued to lightly scratch his scalp, and despite his alarm he still melted under the ministrations, he always loved when you’d touch his sensitive scalp.

-“I-I want you to bite me because..” you bit your lip, and noticed the way his eyes would flicker to the sight, “I want to feel close to you, please Hunter, I won’t pressure you-“

-How long has it been since Hunters given into anything? His temptations were pulled from him by Belos, and although he’d never give in to the feral bloodlust still hiding inside him,

-How bad would it be to take just a small, small amount? He knew it was the need talking, and he felt so guilty, not just for your sweet ambrosia, but the need in the way his hips kept trying to buck into your warmth.

-You we’re afraid you upset him, he put his face back in your neck, nuzzling against the skin slightly, “..You can scratch or hit me if you need me to stop, I will, I promise.”

-You felt your stomach twist in excitement, and anticipation when he kissed at your neck, choosing a spot and sucking gently in warning.

-His fangs elongated, his pupils expanding in hunter, and he ran his teeth over the spot once before slowly sinking his fangs in.

-The moan you let out was small and sweet, the sting feeling so good, especially when his hips started up again.

-When vampire drank from their victims, their fangs stayed buried in the skin to push out as much blood as possible, but he didn’t do that.

-He left a gentle bite on your skin, before pulling away and running his tongue over the bloody mark, like he was savouring a fine wine on his tongue, the moan he lets out is almost obscene.

-Even when he wasn’t acting like himself, the more vampiric side of him taking over, he couldn’t resist being gentle.

-You spent a long moment like that, him pumping into you with as much gentleness as he lapped at your bite mark, reviling in your moans and gasps.

-You tasted so good, like caramel on his tongue, the drops he licked at like a dog tasting like heaven, he knew he’d hate himself later for this,

-But for now, he wanted to enjoy the moment, your taste and the way you’d buck desperately before finishing around him.

#hunter x gn!reader #the owl house hunter #hunter the golden guard #hunter headcannons #hunter x reader #toh hunter wittebane #hunter wittebane #toh hunter headcannons #toh hunter x reader #toh hunter #hunter toh x reader #hunter toh

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eroticwound · 8 months

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Thinking about this one webweaving post and loving someone to the point of invention. Carmen loved Michael and sketched out The Bear. Taking something that may have come up in passing, maybe back when he was still allowed in the restaurant and connected with Mikey, and while in a good place (Copenhagen) Carmen sat down and felt this thing needed to become real in some way, not just in his head or a past conversation with his brother. Unfortunately he couldn’t take the next steps to turn the sketch into a real brick and mortar place with Mikey, but there must be some comfort knowing that Mikey kept the sketch, hung it in the Beef, and even while suffering through his addiction, his deteriorating mind thought it still important to leave the note and put that money aside for Carmen. So Carmy can invent that something from his love, even if it’s without his brother — but it is with him, in some way. That he chose to create this invention with Sydney, who has no connection to Michael but is nevertheless trusted to take this next delicate step with him, adds another layer that I need to chew on.

hey anon, thanks so much for this message! it's really great in and of itself, but it also sparked some thoughts for me, so excuse the length of the response :)

i *love* your timeline of the drawing: mikey and carm talking about their ideal restaurant before mikey banned him, then carmy sitting down in *copenhagen*, a comfortable and magical place, to draw his and mikey's dream restaurant--to make it real. though i suspect creating that drawing also came from mikey ignoring carmen's calls, as carm's way of trying to salvage their straining relationship.

and as for mikey it is so telling that he kept it and hung it up. i have a larger meta just growing in my drafts that breaks down certain scenes in fishes, and the scene where carm gives mikey the drawing is a big one. it's a fucking bittersweet scene, truly twists my heart: you've got carm looking the happiest and most hopeful we've EVER seen him, beaming up from behind his hand at michael. like he looks boyish here. it's all he wants.

and then there's michael, who looks shattered. it's such an earnest gift. it's carmen's way of saying, "i'm all in. this is doable. this is my future. it's *our* future." and how does michael react? it guts him. he can't see this hopeful future. it's all failed ventures, and a sinking restaurant, like a weight around his neck. he tells carm, "let it rip," which is not "let's do it" it's "you have my blessing."

when carm gets called away by donna, mikey's so distressed over this gift, this future with his brother that he can't really see himself in, that he hits himself. it even pushes him to use--the beer he had been imbibing up to this point couldn't manage the distress he's in, he had to get high.

like, it's fucking brutal to think about, that you can draw a direct line from mikey's outburst at the dinner table to this earnest gift from carmen (not that lee helped the situation).

but despite the distress (and to your point), mikey kept the drawing and hung it up. it's his north star. the reason he hid the money in the cans... and not to put a painful twist on it, but maybe amassing enough money for carmen gave mikey permission to go through with killing himself.

and then you have syd! syd who is so future oriented she made a binder of improvements for a shithole failing restaurant she just started working at. like loving someone to the point of invention... mikey was a black hole, who loved his brother so much he set him up to create the thing. but syd loves this world, loves the act of creating so much that invention is her nature. carmy finally has someone who can see that future with him.

... the second most hopeful carmy has ever looked is when syd walks through the doors in the season 1 finale, while they're removing money from cans, and they both immediately fall into step, creating their dream restaurant. together.

#ok to reblog #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #michael berzatto #mikey berzatto #sydney adamu #the bear #bear meta #ask #anon

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againstacecilia · 2 years

Text

Nightmares

Alrighty, #BlurbTuesday coming in just under the wire! Since I wasn't able to write anything this week (it's been a BUSY one, y'all) you get a sneak preview into a series I'm writing! This may or may not be exactly how it turns out later, but I thought I'd use this moment since I'm pretty proud of it. Stretching those dialogue muscles!

Warnings: reader has a nightmare, helmet is off for a second, emotions lol. This doesn't really need a rating but, as always, the whole blog is 18+ ONLY. Love y'all. 💖

Cold. It's cold, and you're laying in the street he left you in. Your hand raises to reach out as you yell, "Don't go. Please, don't go..."

"You're weak."

"But I came to save-"

"To save me? You can't even save yourself."

Your voice is raw from screaming as the man in front of you begins to fade...

“Hey, hey, wake up. Wake up!” someone shouts. You’re being shaken, blankets tangled and squeezing your body. Your eyes shoot open to the darkness of a hand covering your eyes.

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s just a dream, you’re okay.” You realize Mando is the one talking, and it’s his hand covering your eyes.

“What’s going on?” you’re scrambling to get the blankets off you, sweat coating every inch of your body.

“I’m sorry,” Mando says, “I couldn’t get my helmet on fast enough, you’ve gotta calm down so I know you won’t look.”

His helmet… He doesn’t have his helmet on. You force your breathing to calm and close your eyes again under his hand.

“I’m okay. I won’t look, I promise.” You intentionally take deep breaths trying to slow your racing heart. “You can go back to bed. I’m sorry for waking you up.” You wait patiently for him to remove his hand. Just to prove the seriousness of your promise, as soon as his hand is gone you replace it with your own. You feel his body shift off your cot and hear metal clink as he retrieves the helmet.

“Okay, you can look,” Mando’s voice is modulated again and you remove your hand from your face. As your eyes open, all you can see is Mando, backlit by the soft glow from the various control panels dotting the walls.

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” you repeat, throwing all your blankets to the floor next to you and resting the side of your head on the cool metal wall. “Like you said, it was just a dream.”

“Are you alright?” Mando asks, kneeling next to the bed.

“I’m fine,” you wave his concern away.

“Do you… Wanna talk about it?”

You turn your head to look over the Mandalorian beside you. A loose, base layer shirt fits snugly over his arms and chest, his strength obvious. His helmet gleams in the soft light and the pitch black visor is trained on your face, probably analyzing your every move.

“It was just… A dream. Just a dream.”

“About him?” he asks.

“How did you…?”

“You were calling out for him,” Mando answers frankly.

You lean back against the wall and sigh. “Yes. I was just seeing him leave. Again. Not the first time I’ve had this dream.”

“You don’t believe what he said, do you?”

The question gives you pause. “Of course I do. We’ve known each other for a long time, he knows me better than anyone.”

“And you think that means he’s right about you being scared and weak?” The way he asks the questions are matter-of-fact, but they hold no malice.

“I know he’s right. Until now, I’d never even been outside my town, let alone off-world. I’m too scared and too weak to be anything but a girl who never left home.”

You can’t see his face, but something about Mando changes the moment you finish speaking. “You’re wrong.”

“Excuse me?” You turn your head to look at him, brows furrowed.

“The fact you left everything and everyone behind to go find your fiance, especially having never left home, shows your courage. Your loyalty to him was clear the moment you stepped foot on the Crest. Your strength in pulling yourself together after what that idiot did to you… You’re so much more than you’re giving yourself credit for.”

You’re speechless. That was the most you’d ever heard him speak in one go and it was like he knew exactly what you needed to hear. Mando rises, not waiting for a response, and grabs the bag holding your loth-wolf figurine.

“You’re a strong woman,” He opens the bag and gives you the small piece of art. “Arlon doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

You stare at the creature in your hand and Mando moves back to his bunk. Before he shuts the door, you look up. “Thank you, Mando.”

“You’re welcome. Get some sleep,” is all he says.

But you can’t sleep. Not for fear of the nightmares returning, but something else pulls at your attention… Mando believes in you. You’ve only been traveling with him for a few weeks at this point and he can already see something in you that you can’t. He thinks you’re strong. And loyal. And courageous. Words that no one has ever used to describe you before now. And you really enjoy how it feels. Maybe… Maybe you really can be those things.

You know what you have to do.

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viilpstick · 6 months

Text

╰┈➤ 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞: Oh, this is the night, it's a beautiful night and we call it bella notte. If to take a closer look, not just at the skies, you'll see she have stars in her eyes, laying on the grass with her bicycle on the side. On this lovely bella notte. In a hand forgiviness is normal, in another you have to work for it. Bless sevens, the heavens are right.

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔: Lacy Darling, Twisted Wonderland oc

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Some mention bit of oc x canon, the enemies to lovers type (Lacy is not beastman, sorry), mentions of Lacy going to prison

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: Some angst, informative of new character

𝒂/𝒏: I actually found a site that helped me write SO MUCH of this (Synonyms), so expect my writing to become better over time :)) Actually proud of my writing in this hehe

"I can't believe I am lost again. Excuse me, little one! Do you know how can I get to Night Raven College? Oh, you know just the way? With a short cut? Splendid!"

𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅: Never doubt yourself, but doubt the others, even if you are side by side your love one. And his dishonesty has to speak louder than anything else.

Lacy Darling was born into a wealth family in Shaftlands, her upbringing marked by a strong sense of community and a simple, humble lifestyle. From a young age, Lacy displayed an insatiable curiosity, always eager to learn, explore, and understand the world around her. Her heart overflowed with kindness, and she was known for her unwavering loyalty to those she cared about.

Also, with the great energy she had, and being the only daughter, through her childhood she had all the attention of the whole world. Even so, she can't be mistaken as someone who wanted it all, she was well educated to be simple and modest.

Throughout her teenage years, Lacy studied in Night Raven College, as a way to expand her knowledge for the magic.

However, there was a nuanced prejudice within Lacy that she struggled with. Despite her open-mindedness, she occasionally held unfounded biases, rooted in preconceived notions. Lacy's life took a dramatic turn when she was ensnared in a web of a dishonest guy orchestrated by someone she had dear hold, even to say, she actually feel for him. This betrayal led her to make a series of unfortunate choices that ultimately landed her in prison, by no fault of hers.

Upon her release, thanks to a teacher she might even said she used to fear, Lacy emerged as an even more intriguing and evolving individual. Her heart remained full of kindness and her curiosity unabated. The hardships she endured had added a layer of strength to her character, and her occasional glimpses of courage now shone brighter than ever. However, to gain her trust or forgiviness to this days is a hard task most people fail.

𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚: She just can't understand, it must be something wonderful, it must be something grand 'cause everybody's smiling in a kind and wistful way, then why do She tend to keep my thoughts to herself instead of facing her mistakes

This sweet young woman is someone of intriguing complexity, known for her timid and naive disposition. She possesses a gentle and unassuming nature, which makes her an exceptional friend to those fortunate enough to know her.

Her loyalty to her family is unwavering, and she consistently demonstrates a deep commitment to their well-being.

Lacy's gracious side is a full commitment to a kindheart and sympathetic soul, whatsoever, while her timid nature might suggest vulnerability, she surprises many by revealing a hidden reservoir of courage and protectiveness when the situation demands it, specially when it comes to people she deeply care about. In times of adversity, she can rise to the occasion, showcasing her resilience and determination.

Lacy's personality exhibits a fascinating duality. On one hand, she exudes an air of modesty, always extending kindness and curiosity towards others. Yet, there is a hint of cockiness in her attitude, occasionally manifesting as a self-assured demeanor that she's not afraid to display. Her confidence, although not overwhelming, serves as a testament to her, may as well say, once she doesn't like someone by any act they might've done to irritate or hurt her, she will act stubborn and imposible to get forgiviness from.

One notable aspect of Lacy's flaw is her somewhat prejudiced view towards people from a different class of her, this might due the fact she once went to prison, thanks to a certain somoene from Playful Land, awhile she tried to help them. This prejudice, though a minor deffect, suggests a certain guardedness and wariness when it comes to individuals from distant backgrounds. Over time, she may learn to overcome or soften as she continues to grow and develop, it depends on how inflexible both of parties are.

In summary, Lacy is a varied character, a humble and sincere soul with a heart full of kindness, curiosity, and loyalty. Lacy's growth as a character includes occasional glimpses of courage, a touch of cockiness, and a nuanced prejudice, making her a truly intriguing and evolving individual.

𝑨𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆: You'll find enchantment here, the night will weave its magic spell, in her eyes you'll see the glint of skies.

For someone like Lacy, complex clothing are never an exaggeration. With a knee length circle skirt with a caramel shade, and a pastel yellow shade blouse. A teal bow as belt in her figure, to top up with everything, a small gold chain in a crystal format.

Her make up emphasized a natural, yet polished look. This included a light foundation, soft blush, defined eyebrows, and really light red lipstick.

Her skin is well said to be in a warm undertone. Her is a slight short bangs with the hair length touching the shoulders and slight wavy and with the color being a carnaby cooper red, all of that matching perfectly her brown eyes.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑: And may love be your keeper, close your eyes, trust the unreliable. But, remember in any second you can open your eyes to see the clear truth.

Rook Hunt: Although, not fully confirmed, Rook and Lacy are distant relatives. And by that, he always was grown found in a fashion lifestyle. Lacy mentions the fact she is quite confused by Rook's mannerism, but, think in general he is a funny silly guy.

Ruggie Bucchi: However, is said early that Lacy has always suspicious over people too far from her lifestyle. She's really kind to Ruggie, and from time to time, likes to give him simple jobs in exchange of a great quantity of money for him. He does unintentional help her face her past shadows.

Dire Crowley: Never shown why exactly, but, Crowley dislikes Lacy deeply, vice versa. Both had things in the past they never brought up again. However, it is a fact they don't want to see each other's face no longer.

Fellow Honest: Crowley still was the tip of iceberg, what, and how, Lacy acts around Fellow is way more noticeable hatred. It's pointed out, that Fellow got this sweet Lady, when she was younger, involved in inumerous problems awhile she tried to be closer to him, as something between friend and more. Yet, once she had to go to prison by his little rebellious acts, she went from sweet to bitter in a heart beat, once they saw each other again, Lacy acts as if no nearly close to forgive him. Even so, Fellow outside shows a bit of regret, inside he almost corrupts himself for actually doing such a mess. In a way or another, he does hope Lacy will give him a second chance.

Crewel Divus: Both dog lovers go way back in NRC, when they were in Pomefiore. According to Crewel, their first interaction when both got kicked out of Trein's class by a discussion of what dog breed was better. Whatsoever, during time, both had became good friends, the big brother and younger sister alike duo went never out of style since then.

Mozus Trein: Even with some down falls, Mister Trein used to adore Lacy as a student. Lacy as a student, whatsoever, used to deeply fear Mister Trein, yet, have deep respect. Things changed when Trein payed for her finance when she went to prison, he didn't blame her the slightest bit, specially when he knew Lacy's innocence. It is common, stated by Rook, seeing Trein in his break, along side Lucius, visit Lacy for a cup of tea.

𝑻𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒂: At the end, all ends well when it is well.

Lacy is inspired on Lady from "Lady and the Tramp" (funfact about it: Lady's va name was also Barbara-- i found it cute, let me life with it)

Signature spell: Dedicated energy, with some notes of a lullaby, Lacy is capable of absorbing other energy to use as her a running boost, targets may even fall asleep with so much absorption

Lacy meaning: from Lassy; Young woman. Lacy is a feminine name of French origin. Lassy was a beautiful historical region in France that was home for many noblemen

Her style is inspired in the style of 1950 women's fashion, the year the movie came out

28 years old, born in July 1st

Lacy's dominant hand is right

Fav. drink + food: Caramel coffee, croissants.

Least fav. drink + food: Orange juice, crab.

Hobbies: Cycling, picking flowers

Pet peeves: Dishonesty

Likes: Picnics

Talent: Fast thinker

#💜 ! twisted wonderland #💜 ! ocs #💜 ! fellow honest #💜 ! lacy darling #💜 ! lady and the tramp #💜 ! barbs' writes #twisted wonderland #ruggie bucchi #twst oc #disney twst #divus crewel #rook hunt #fellow honest

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strawbrry-fields · 1 year

Text

John Laurens x reader, Cpt. 5

~slow-burn~

Word count~ 1,727 words

Pairing~ John Laurens x reader

Warning~ mention of blood, just a few drops tho. Accidental finger prick.

Note~ Hello! It’s been a minute, but I actually wrote a really long chapter this time which I am super proud of. Also, I am deciding on what the title should be and these are a few I came up with: A Red Gardenia, Red Gardenia, Pale Gardenia, Red Tinted Gardenia, Blood Tinted Petals, A Blood Tinted Gardenia. Please let me know if you like a specific one a lot, and again, thank you for the support! (f/c) = favorite color

•Chapter 5•

It was the day of the Winter’s Ball and you were in Peggy Schuyler’s room doing her hair. You pinned a lock of hair into place, then looked at Peggy in the mirror. “Why do you want me to do your hair and not Elizabeth? She has more profound talent for hair than I do.” Your friend glanced at your face as you rested your head on her shoulder.

“Because it’s much more fun doing each others hair than asking Elizabeth to do it,” she turned her head to face you, “besides, it’s a bonding experience.” You grasped her hand and pulled her up out of the chair, quickly sitting down before Peggy could protest.

“In that case, it is my turn to be made beautiful,” You sat up straight and turned your face to the side, upturning your nose, “I am, after all, meeting someone important.” Peggy giggled at your antics, causing you to slouch back to your normal composure, giggling with her.

Playing with your hair, Peggy asked “Now what to do with these unruly locks?”

“Excuse you, miss but they are not unruly. They are perfect.” You gave Peggy the side eye through the mirror while crossing your arms, a slight hint of a smile appearing. “Regardless, I was hoping to do a twist of some kind with overlapping pieces.”

“Well that sounds manageable. I think I can do that.” As Peggy began to work on your hair, she tugged and twisted, making it extremely difficult to not yelp from the pain. There were a few times where she abruptly pulled so hard, a squeak would manage to slip past your lips. Peggy at long last announced that she was done. “Here, take a look.” She grabbed a hand mirror and put it behind your head, angling it so you could see the hairstyle in the large mirror in front of you. You only needed to observe it for a few seconds to fall in love with how she had transformed your hair.

“Oh Peggy I love it!” You exclaimed as you got up and threw your arms around her, squeezing tightly. “Thank you so very much! I hope you like yours just as much as I like mine.” You backed out of the hug just enough to see her face, her doing the same.

“Oh I do, I love the pearls,” she said while grinning from ear to ear, “now you just need something to put in your hair.” You didn’t quite hear her as you had walked over to her bed, letting your fingers run along the blankets until they reached the fabric of your dress. You examined it, the fabric flowers along the neckline, the (f/c) silk of the skirt, the delicate, golden embroidery on the corset. It was the most beautiful dress you ever had the pleasure of wearing.

“Y/N, did you hear what I said?” You whipped your head to look at Peggy, who was sat at her vanity powdering her face.

You glanced down at the dress and replied with a meek “No.”

“Well I said we need to find something to put in your hair. Something that will compliment your dress well,” Peggy turned to you with a smile, “but let’s put it on you before we figure that out.”

You spun in front of the vanity mirror, watching the skirts of your dress billow and twirl. Unable to contain your happiness and excitement, you laughed, stretching your arms to the ceiling. You slowly lowered your arms, continuing to spin until they reached your hips. Stopping and examining yourself, you felt absolutely beautiful. The layered ruffles by your wrist and the thin pearled necklace that sat on your chest added to your enthusiasm.

A knocking against the door snapped you out of your trance. You turned, seeing Eliza peeking her head inside the room. “Oh my goodness, you look so pretty!” She opened the door further and came to hold your hand. “If all the men are not looking at you by the end of the night, I am no judge of beauty.”

You smiled and grew embarrassed. “Thank you Eliza, but you are truly just as, if not more, beautiful.” Eliza laughed and reached for your other hand.

“Thank you Y/N,” she said while squeezing your hands, “However, I did come to tell you that it’s almost time to go.” With a quick glance towards the door, you hefted your skirts as you both hurried as fast as you could with heels on. The both of you weaved through the sisters’ house, finding your way to the garden where the carriage was waiting for you. When the carriage was in your line of sight, you slowed a bit, a bush with little white flowers caught your eye.

You stopped and asked “Eliza, may I borrow these?” While pointing to the flowers.

“Of course. We have plenty of those flowers I’m sure mother won’t mind it if a few are missing.” Turning back towards the bush, you plucked a few with just long enough stems that they would be able to stay in your hair for the night. While picking the last one, a thorn pricked your finger causing a tiny drop of blood to spill onto the petal. Quickly lifting your finger to your mouth, you sucked to make sure you didn’t get any drops on your dress. Glancing back towards the flower, you noticed that the drop of blood had pooled in the center of the petals. Hearing the Schuylers calling for you, you turned your head away from the bloodied flower and quickly made your way to the carriage.

As you sat next to Peggy, you gestured to the small flowers in your arms and asked “would you mind placing them in my hair?” Peggy nodded and took the flowers one by one out of your arms, delicately placing them in the twist she had made. After all the flowers were arranged, you turned around and gave her a small hug, thanking her while not wanting to ruin the both of yours’ outfits or hair.

The ride to the venue of the ball was short due to it being held close to the Schuyler’s residence. You had told your father and mother that you would meet them at the ball, wanting to get ready with your friends. Your father and mother found it acceptable due to them trusting in the Schuylers to get you to the ball safe. They had, however, asked that as soon as you arrived to come and find them so they knew you were there.

The carriage jostled to a stop, with the door of the carriage to your right opening. A gloved hand reached out to you, leading you down the steps of the carriage and onto the stone walkway. As you waited for the others to be helped out, you glanced around the courtyard. The driveway went around a fountain in the middle, with shrubs lining the road. The building was tall and beautiful, yellow lights peeking out of the windows and streaming onto the darkly lit stone of the stairs. Grabbing Peggy’s hand, you walked towards the steps of the building with your heels clacking and the swishing of your dress being the only things you hear, too distracted by your exhilaration.

You reach the top of the steps, the doors open with hundreds of people socializing and dancing. Grasping Peggy’s arm tightly, you quickly squeeze through the crowd starting the search for your parents. As you walk about the room between the dancers and the people resting, you see your father over by the stairs to the second floor. You quickly rush over to him with Peggy by your side.

“Ah, my lovely Y/N. You look beautiful, darling.” Your father reached for your hand, squeezing it as he pulled you along. “Your mother is just over this way. She’s talking with her friends.” You quickly saw your mother, talking with the women she invited often for tea.

Tapping her on the arm, you made your presence known. “Hello mother.”

Your mother’s face broke into a smile as she turned around and saw you were standing there. Reaching for both of your hands, she pulled you into a gentle hug. “My dear, you look marvelous.” Lifting your head from the hug, you smile slightly at the compliment.

“Thank you, mother, but I cannot take all of the praise. Peggy did my hair.” You turned to your right and linked arms with your companion. Your mother congratulated Peggy on her dress, with the topic of conversation drifting away into chatter. Your attention was slowly moving elsewhere.

Your eyes drifted through the crowds of dancers looking for John. You had hoped to see him here, anticipating to dance with him. Suddenly your eyes caught sight of Hercules, the polite tailor who you knew was friends with John. Turning towards Peggy, you gave her a look and gestured away from your mother. Understanding your body language, Peggy said goodbye to your mother while curtsying. You kissed your mother on the cheek while saying goodbye, then linked arms with your friend as you pulled her in the direction of the tailor.

Meandering through the sea of attendees, you got close enough to Hercules that he had seen you coming his way. Reaching him, you smiled and curtsied with Peggy following suite.

“It’s so nice to see you again Y/N, and in better circumstances,” Hercules bowed with a cheerful grin, “how has your head been?”

“Oh thank you Hercules, it is doing much better.”

“Thankfully, otherwise I would have had to drive you to the hospital in our carriage,” piped up Peggy while gently nudging you. You chuckled, then turned back to the shopkeeper.

“Hercules, would you happen to know where John Laurens is? I know he is your friend so I thought you might know.” As you spoke, you turned your head about the room with Peggy joining you, still searching for him.

Hercules followed your line of direction, while he answered with “I don’t quite know, however he said he was planning on coming. He specifically said that he wouldn’t miss it for the world.” As you slowly took in what your new friend had said, your eyes drifted across the entrance to the building and graced a familiar figure.

~~THIS FAN FICTION IS DISCONTINUED!!! I AM NO LONGER WORKING ON THIS WORK!~~ I deeply apologize for this because I fully understand how frustrating it is to read a fanfic then find out that it is discontinued; but I am rebranding to be able to post more consistently.

~~please let me know through asks, messaging, or comments if you want to be in the Taglist, and thank you for the support~~

Taglist: @froggydobegaytho @disneyanddisneyships @short-potato @lilithizhere @baobao0505 @yourfavstalker25789

#hamilton musical #angelica schuyler #eliza schuyler #hamilton #john laurens #john laurens x reader #peggy schuyler #hamilton x reader

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chaotic-orphan · 3 months

Note

Haiiiii !!! Do u have character descriptions for the characters in intoxicating fear?? Would LOVEE to draw fanart if that’s chills ^_^

Intoxicating Fear Introductions

Hello yes I do!!! It is absolutely chill to do fanart for them!! PLEASE TAG ME IN IT I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE!!!

I can actually do a little reveal now for this of my boards for Hero and Villain WHO HAVE NAMES NOW.

Hero — Kit Mallory

Hero’s name is Kit Mallory and he has not been having a great time… his description?

This kind of vibe, like a golden retriever but make it suffer. He’s tall— like 6ft, this kind of floppy light brown hair and his smile used to be so bright before Villain. He just turned 20 a month before Villain took him, and he wears oversized clothes and layers to make himself appear bigger and bulkier because he is a self-conscious little bean. Especially next to Superhero who seems to dwarf him.

Kit is look wise based off of Andrew Garfield in the Spider-Man movies. He is determined and always wants to do good and help others more than beat the shit out of bad guys, that’s why he didn’t debut for so long. However he has no trouble fighting when he is defending someone like Other Hero or trying to defeat a Villain, he holds nothing back.

Villain— Ambrose

Then of course we have Villain, my boy.

Villain’s name is Oscar Ambrose, but Hero only knows him as Ambrose.

His looks are mostly based off of young Tom Riddle in Harry Potter, but with more ✨style✨ For example in the top left is his casual outfit and the kind of thing he wears around Kit’s house. He loves his suits and his shirt and pants combo because he can intimidate people dressed like that.

I think Young Tom riddle just captures Ambrose’s charisma and malice perfectly, because he is very boy-next-door, someone your mother would approve of you bringing home but there’s just something off about him.

He, of course, adores this. That he is unapproachable and he likes to show it off with how he dresses, speaks and presents himself. He lives off of fear day-to-day but having someone to satiate it around the clock is simply Christmas for him. Ambrose is older than Kit, he’s around 25, 6ft 4, towering over Hero and broader too. He is cruel and his eyes are dark and look into your soul, his lips just a little too red. My favourite sadist.

His hair is dark and almost silky looking, closer to black than dark brown but brown nonetheless, and he has his own board for his hair because he is meticulous about it. He also has a slight stubble that has been growing ever since he brought Kit back to his own house to torture him.

I must stress this is huge for him because he is so well groomed but he is just having too much fun with Kit to shave. His hair is more like the two top pictures below, perfectly styled and curled just behind his ears, but the same kind of cold perfection of the bottom two as well as a more similar colour.

And that is it!!! I was going to just drop in the names on the next update but this ask gave me an excuse to fangirl for a bit over my boys!!! Again please tag me in whatever art you make!!!

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greyfrey3 · 1 year

Text

Courting an alpha

“Did you hear that Bakugou Katsuki is courting someone?”

The question hits Izuku like lightning, shocking his fingers and causing the needle he’s got pinched in them to fall. He slowly bends to retrieve it from the ground, listening intently to the conversation next to him.

“He is? How do you know?” asks Uraraka, casually peering in his direction. Their eyes meet for a moment and he knows his closest friend will get to the bottom of things.

“He’s preparing a gift!” Ashido informs her excitedly. “It’s supposed to be personal, too. He must really like the omega.”

Izuku locates the needle and sits up, a frown marring his features. It’s nothing compared to what he’s feeling, just a mask settling into place. The real pain is happening in his chest. His heart aches like Katsuki has reached in, wrapped his fingers around it, and squeezed.

“A-ah! I wasn’t aware he had his eye on anyone!” Uraraka exclaims. “Are you sure?!”

“Trust me, it’s happening.” Ashido grins and shoots her a wink. “He traded a few rabbits and got some quality nest materials. You know how serious it is if he’s picking out that sort of thing for an omega.”

Izuku vaguely acknowledges Uraraka’s sympathetic look. The back of his neck is hot and the flush is quickly spreading to his face—he hates this feeling, like he’s slowly burning from the inside out, embarrassment mixing with crippling disappointment.

“Every alpha is so different,” Chiyo declares from where she’s sitting on the other side of the room. “My mate wove me a crown of flowers.”

Ashido sighs. “That sounds lovely!”

“He certainly took the easy road,” Chiyo comments dryly. “Buying nest materials is a sign of a more doting alpha. If only mine had been so thoughtful…”

“How about you, Midoriya? You’re an alpha.” Ashido leans towards him, her eyebrows wiggling conspiratorially. “Are you working on a courting gift for someone?”

He looks down to where Katsuki’s red scarf lays in his lap. It’s the blond’s favorite, and Izuku has spent the last few hours trying to mend a tear. Laughing quietly, he wonders if that’s not exactly what he’s been doing—preparing courting gifts. His scarf, his jacket, his old pair of boots… Izuku has been taking care of Katsuki for years.

Shaking his head, he replies softly, “I don’t have an omega I’m interested in.”

They change targets after that, interrogating Kirishima who’s been trying his best to turn invisible. Izuku’s too distracted to focus, his thoughts occupied with a certain blonde-haired alpha and his potential mate.

He knew this was going to happen eventually. Alphas and omegas courted, married and produced children. And while he could do the same with someone else—or even a beta—the only person Izuku has ever wanted was Katsuki. Now it’s time for him to face the truth, however bitter.

Without excusing himself, Izuku puts on his gloves and stumbles out of the tent and into the white expanse of snow. It’s cold today, but clear. The top layer of snow is frozen and his boots crunch loudly as he treads through it. After a few minutes, he spots Katsuki where he always is this time of day: near the horses, checking them over.

With as much noise as he’s making, Izuku can’t go for stealth even if he wanted to, but when those familiar reds flick to him, suddenly he wishes he could hide.

“What are you up to?” Katsuki asks, eyes immediately narrowing in suspicion.

Understanding Izuku has always come easily to him… though Izuku is doing a poor job of hiding his distress right now. Anyone could figure out that something is troubling him. He’s lucky his pheromones can’t escape the thick layers he has on or there’d be no pretending at all.

He has an important question for Katsuki, one that will change both of their lives forever. But he doesn’t know how to ask the other alpha if he’s decided to court someone.

“Just checking on you,” he answers instead, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. Hand shaking, Izuku offers him the scarf he just finished repairing. “Here you go.”

Without hesitation, Katsuki bends to expose his neck. A full three seconds pass where Izuku stares at him in confusion, his pulse leaping.

“Hands are full. Put it on for me,” Katsuki demands.

Dragging his eyes from the spot where Katsuki’s mate will mark him someday, Izuku carefully places the scarf on him, mourning how his gloves make it impossible to feel the other man’s skin.

This might be his last chance to do so if the rumors are true.

“Um… Kacchan.”

“What is it?” The blonde straightens, gaze sharp.

The question sits heavy on his tongue. He’s reluctant to ask because he doesn't want to hear the answer. Once he does that’ll mean the end—no more stolen kisses while out riding, no more sneaking into each other’s tents at night, no more quiet mornings together before the rest of the village wakes… Izuku knows that once Katsuki takes a mate, their love affair is over.

And yet, Izuku didn’t run away when he heard the rumor. No, he went to find Katsuki immediately, determined to get an answer from him. Because even if knowing the truth will hurt, it’s better than pretending.

Izuku is no coward.

“Why are you upset?” Katsuki presses when the silence lasts a little too long. Then he cups Izuku’s face in his hands, squeezing his cheeks affectionately.

Izuku blurts it out. “Are you courting someone?”

“What the hell—”

“Ashido said that you traded for some quality fabric, and that you were preparing a gift, and that you were getting ready to court someone, and…” Izuku rushes it all out in one breath. Inhaling sharply, he braces himself. “Kacchan, is any of that true? Are you looking for a mate?”

Usually when Izuku starts mumbling, Katsuki is the first to tell him to knock it off. For once, he remains quiet. It’s as close to a ‘yes’ as Izuku can expect.

“You are…” The words come out strangled, the rest of that thought dying. Izuku’s worst fears have been confirmed with just a look—Katsuki’s mouth hardens into a firm line, a grim furrow pinching his brow.

“You weren’t supposed to know,” he states, expression darkening.

And that’s all it takes for Izuku’s vision to blur with tears.

“Oi! What the—what are you doing? Why are you crying?!” Katsuki is near frantic as he tilts Izuku’s face up to see him better. The sunlight dazzles his eyes as it hits it, and Katsuki quickly shifts to block the rays.

“Who are they? Who’s the o-omega?” Izuku gasps, his stutter from his childhood slipping out. He could care less about it. All he wants to know is who’s managed to capture Katsuki’s attention after Izuku has held it for so long. “Who’s so s-special that you’ll buy them n-nesting materials?”

“Nesting materials? Omega? What are you—?!” Katsuki is upset too, and it takes him a few seconds to figure it out. When he does, Izuku can feel it. His grip on Izuku’s cheeks slacken. “Idiot, those things are for you!”

“Me?” It comes out incredulous. “Why would I need anything like that? I can’t make a nest…”

“It’s not—for god’s sake!” Katsuki releases him and digs into the front of his cloak. A moment later, he pulls out a thick cap, lined with sheep’s wool. Unceremoniously, he places it on Izuku’s head. “It was for this.”

Izuku touches the cap hesitantly. It’s warm and soft. “What… what’s this, Kacchan?”

He’s confused—not about the object or its purpose. He’s confused about what it means when Katsuki gives it to him. Because it sounds almost like—

“It’s not done yet, I’ve been having a time keeping that lining sewn in.” Katsuki grins at him. “It’s a courting gift, dummy. For you.”

Izuku touches it, staring at him. “But we’re both alphas. You’re supposed to find an omega… or a beta. Anyone but another alpha.”

“Yeah, we’re both alphas.” Katsuki knocks their foreheads together gently. “And we’re future mates. If you’ll have me.”

Izuku’s world is flipping on its head, shifting under his feet and leaving him unsure of where he’s standing. But as he clings to Katsuki, it finally rights itself. He reaches to Katsuki’s hands, lacing their fingers together.

“Of course I’ll have you.” Izuku breathes. “We’ll be together for the rest of our lives.”

And so a courtship that had begun the first time they laid eyes on each other—and all the years of sharing gifts and affection in between—finally becomes official.

#bkdkbk #bkdk winter au #bkdk #dkbk #omegaverse #alpha izuku #alpha katsuki

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kaveehs · 2 years

Note

OMGG can u do a first argument hc with gojo x intovert! reader pls i love ur writings

jealous!gojo who uses the dangers of your relationship as an excuse to control you and who you talk to? (is what you think but oh lawd the layers to his fear is worse than you thought) :’((

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐀𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 — 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

♫ NOW PLAYING…

. . . IFHY — TYLER THE CREATOR:

Implied JJK manga spoilers (more specifically volume 9), Implied mention of Riko and Getou, gender neutral reader, angst, wc 600+, possessive behavior, arguing, reader and gojo are in college, gojo has unaddressed abandonment issues, not proofread

a/n: i originally was gonna go a different route with this but i finally purchased my physical copy of volume 9 so i couldn’t really resist, it still makes me saur sad to think about </3

He knew full well how dangerous getting into a relationship would be since you got together in high school.

The line of work you shared was not kind to love,

And Gojo knew with his status, people could very well try to use you as leverage to get him to do harmful things.

So in turn, he was very protective of you.

At first, you were understanding. To you, it was just a way to protect your love for each other.

But then, it started to get too much for you by the time you both got to college.

After the incident, after he lost someone he cared about.

He would keep an eye on you at all times, tell you who you should and shouldn’t talk to, and where you could and couldn’t go.

It started to take a toll on you, and when you brought it up to him, he would say the same thing over and over again.

“I’m just trying to protect us.”

But in truth he was becoming unhealthily possessive.

He was becoming controlling, as if he wanted you to be a doll.

The worst it got was when he told you not to talk to anyone that he doesn’t know at all, as if that was something he had to worry about.

And when he didn’t want you to go anywhere local without him.

This is what finally made you snap.

“Satoru, what exactly are you afraid of, losing me or losing control of me,” you yelled in reply to his request.

He had never seen you so frustrated at him before, and raising your voice was also foreign to him.

“What are you talking about,” his tone sounded so innocent, as if he couldn’t know what you mean at all.

This angered you more than anything.

“It’s to protect you—”

“This is too far and you know it, Gojo. You’re being controlling,” you cut off his sentence.

His heart dropped when you called him by his last name. He knew how upset you were with him.

“You know how many dangerous people there are? And how they wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you if it meant getting to me,” he got up from his seat, his presence towering your own.

“Of course I know. But this isn’t the way to go about this,” you scoff. “You were never like this before, is this because of jealousy?”

You were right. He was’t jealous, he didn’t necessarily have a reason to be. But what he was doing to you wasn’t right, it was mean. It was cruel. It was unnecessary.

He was so afraid of losing you.

But he couldn’t admit it to you.

“I get you’re scared, but you can’t control me like I’m nothing but your puppet,” your voice cracked.

When you looked into his eyes, they were sad, and dark.

He didn’t say anything for a while. He only stood with his thoughts in silence.

“Gojo,” you called out to him. There was a hint of worry in your voice.

Then he finally broke his silence.

“I’m sorry, just please,” he paused and took a deep breath. He thought about his past at that moment. “Please be safe.”

“I promise I will. You can trust me.”

Your words momentarily give him a sense of security. He knew he couldn’t keep you locked in his cage of protection forever.

But he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about what happened to her. And what that did to him, his best friend.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru #gojo angst #gojou satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst #getou suguru #riko amanai deserved better #well they all do really deserve better #☽ rena writes — angst

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frostycatblr-fandom-files · 10 months

Text

Under Bursting Skies

[Your Choice of Clone x GN!Reader]

Let's rate this +13 to be safe. Minor proofreading and editing. Gender neutral Reader. Second person POV with no body or gender descriptors. No specified Clone or personalities beyond name drops when it comes to the rumors. This is just him™ being sweet and cuddly with you because the fireworks scare you or simply make you uneasy. Or you can pretend it's the other way around: the fireworks have scared him™ and you're comforting him™. I'm not your mother, I can't stop my fellow Clone Simps from interpreting who says what dialogue in any specific way. ;) No one's acting out of character because I say so though, so yes he would say that because he loves you. 🩷 One line of Mando'a that gets translated by the other. My usual use of italics.

Hope y’all are staying safe with those fireworks! If you need me I’ll be chilling with my noise cancelling headphones in my house now that we’re done celebrating.

It's been going on for a while now, you and him.

The stolen and sweet "secret" (hah, who are you kidding when there's a sea of a hundred faces similar enough to his who have you clocked from miles away at any given time?) moments like these are as natural as the armor that hugs him in all the right places. All those areas your eyes linger a little too long, your hands crawl to time and time again.

Yeah, especially there.

This firework show seems to be going on equally as long tonight. It's anyone's guess who got a hold of these, why the COs haven't put a stop to it, and who's setting them off. There's too many conflicting rumors about the origin and why they're being set off tonight.

One rumor many have put their credits on is Fives wanting to say farewell to this campaign General Skywalker secured for them with a bang, and he's paid some Shiny reeeeally well to set off these sparklers and skyrockets he found in an overstuffed office labeled "contraband" on the base. Another rumor floating around suggests that so-and-so has it on good authority that those specializing in heavy-weapons (he's pretty sure he knows what Hardcase's armor looks like even in the dark… granted he was pretty far away, so-) and explosives wanted to blow something up (wasn't there someone you were telling me about in that rogue Clone unit named-? Oh hi, Captain!), but they wanted to create something of beauty rather than destruction before they got bored of it and let someone else take it from there.

Maybe it's not even a Clone who's setting them off. Maybe it's some brother's General and their respective Shin- er, Padawan. (Don't call them "Shiny" or "Youngling", most of them really don't like that or understand what we mean.) Or maybe it's just the Padawan. It's probably their Commander… that seems like a thing the General's student might do. They may be fighting in a war for kriff's sake, but kids will find excuses to be kids. They don't really see most of the Generals doing something like using their lightsaber to ignite the fuse from a distance. (If that isn't their Commander though, how the hell did a brother get their hands on one of the laser swords someone swears up and down they saw?)

You don't know, and you don't care. You're more interested in being wrapped around him, by him, feeling someone's skin twitch and jump with every rocket that climbs into the sky above the base with a shrill, whistling scream before it bursts into a ball of sizzling light and color. You've found some secluded space where you often spend time with one another.

It's the perfect place to take that spare mattress one of the bunk rooms had kicking around for a while and lay it out on the floor, adding layer after layer of those GAR-issue blankets and sheets no one would miss until the thing became a much more comfortable nest. It was another "secret" the two of you had.

Yeah, a little strange that this old storage room's light turns on sometimes in the middle of the night. Maybe the wiring is just… goofy. But it's definitely nothing.

"Maker… wonder how much this guy's gotten his hands on. Must've been at this for… fifteen minutes?" one of you asks, feeling the other tense after one of the big fireworks detonates with an ear splitting BHOOM! so deep, it was felt in all twenty-four ribs.

The question is answered with a faint laugh before a trail of kisses are stamped into the other's jawline, "Dunno… just hope it ends soon. For your sake."

"Hush, I'm not-" comes the retort before the jawline is replaced with the speaker's lips, gentle hands caressing their face before they pull apart. "Now-now. I was not going to say you were scared. You're tense. The fireworks make you uneasy."

"Exploding kaleidoscopes would make anyone uneasy! They're too much like thermal detonators for my taste, and you know those aren't toys."

There's another soft chuckle before one of you props yourself up on one elbow to better look at the nervous one on the stolen mattress below both of you with a sweet smile. "K'uur, ner sho'cye…" comes out in a soothing tone, voice close to an amorous purr.

"Don't you "hush, my ocean" me…" one of you complains softly to the other, trying to shy away from the hand that reaches forward to touch some part of them. A scar. A tattoo. Their hair. Skin barren and devoid of any clothing. "I'm the one who says that…" they grumble, but it's half-hearted. They can't stay mad at their darling, the other half of them in this galaxy, for too long just from a simple tease.

It earns them a chuckle in reply again. "Uh-huh…"

Neither of you want to stray too far from the comforting embrace where they fit just right against the other. There's no rigid surface of an armor kit to be found that makes a tender hug stiff and impossibly uncomfortable for more than a brief exchange that conveys the gratitude of seeing the other one safe and alive and in the flesh once again; more than a dream had in longing.

"Don't say it…"

"You're adorable when you're grumpy."

"I'm not grumpy."

"Right. Because the fireworks don't scare you either."

"Exactly." they declare emphatically. But the discomforted twitch with the next shockwave of color and crackling light and spent gunpowder floating on the breeze outside that breaks across in the bursting skies above them both betrays their resolve. One of you is most definitely frightened by the display that poses no immediate danger; luckily, the other doesn't think less of them for it.

"It's alright. I have you."

Your heads meet in the middle-space between the two of you on the mattress as you draw each other closer once again for comfort, whether sought or provided, and the whisper is small and grateful. "...thank you."

Together, safe in the base, under bursting skies, the two of you listen to the fireworks above as the show carries on. When it mercifully comes to an end with one last rib-tickling series of blasts and booms, you simply look in one another’s eyes with a sigh. You’re both in agreement that you’re glad someone had fun - and hopefully no one ended up hurt - but you’re more glad it’s finally over.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Would’ve been worse if it wasn’t for you, sweetheart.”

“I’d do anything for the one I love.” the tender promise is made, sealed with a kiss.

[Didn’t drop my Sorry, Wrong Comms! taglist into this one since I didn’t know if this experimental and self-indulgent drabble would be their cup of tea]

Mando’a pronunciation according to the glossary I referenced:

K’uur [Koor]

ner [nair]

sho’cye [SHOW-shay]

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