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gargoy-ross · 3 months

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You made today special - Vox x gn!reader

Summary: You and Vox have been in a situationship of sorts for a while, and he has finally asked you out for the upcoming Valentines. Being the showman he is, he wants everything to be perfect. Unfortunately things don't go according to his plan and he's left on a verge of breakdown.

Warnings: some nasty language but otherwise none

Word count: 1309

He's booked a reservation at the most renowned restaurant in Pride Ring.

He's made sure that a limousine will be ready and waiting.

He's even bought flowers, carefully picked and chosen to match your mutual aesthetic.

And he has put on his best suit, checked himself in the mirror at least seven times in the past hour - which both Valentino and Velvet have teased him about. Usually he'd at least retort with a snarky comment, but Vox can't bring himself to care today.

From the moment you agreed to be his Valentine he's been preparing to swoon you over. Every little detail is taken care of for this day to be memorable.

You're dressed in your best and waiting for him to come pick you up. The butterflies in your stomach refused to calm themself, and you're sure you look like a lovestruck fool right now.

Despite your excitement you were also a bit nervous about how the public would respond to your appearance with Vox. The paparazzi followed him everywhere, and he's always been rather pedantic about the Vees' image.

Still, finally having a date with him? Not just shameless flirting and drunken night outs, but an actual real date?

It was no secret that you had been pining for the tech overlord for longer than you'd like to admit and you were happy to know he shared those feelings too.

A glance at the clock tells you that he should've been here by now. You recheck the message he sent you earlier.

Vox wouldn't have stood you up, would he?

You debate on whether you should text him to ask where he is, but before you can make a decision a black limo drives to your driveway.

You sigh in relief as Vox steps out to open the door for you.

"Apologies for the late arrival," his smile makes you forget your earlier worries. "there were some hiccups on the way. I hope you didn't wait for long."

"I was a bit worried you wouldn't show up, but it's all right."

Vox promises to make it up to you later. He hadn't anticipated the paparazzi blocking the road, and since he was supposed to pick you up he couldn't just zap himself out of there like he'd usually do.

He places a hand on your waist as he guides you. "You look stunning by the way."

"Thank you. You look very handsome too." You find it hard to find the right words, but Vox seems pleased with your answer regardless.

This was just a small setback on an otherwise perfect date, he thinks. Everything else will go just as planned.

The ride to the restaurant starts off a bit awkward, but the two of you soon set into a comfortable conversation. Vox, with his natural charm, led most of the exchange, asking for your opinions and preferences on a matter of things. His animated expressions and almost cartoonish mannerism were a delight to watch.

At some point Vox decides that now is the perfect time to give you the bouquet. He reaches for it, only to realize that he forgot to take it with him.

Fuck.

His expression goes from happy and exited to 'shit, I left the stove on'.

"Is everything okay?"

He's quick to recover, nodding and reassuring you that there's no need to worry.

He'll just give you the flowers after the date then.

The restaurant was packed full, which was expected on a special day like Valentine's. That's precisely why Vox had made the reservation early. Now if that idiot behind the counter could just find it…

"Sir, are you sure you've made the reservation for today? I do not see you on the list."

Vox thanks himself for having such good self control. "Yes, I'm quite sure. Check it again."

"I'm sorry sir, your name isn't on the list-"

Vox leans over the counter. His left eye pulses and voice is laced with static. "But it is, right there. See?"

"Of course. This way please."

Vox makes a note of the employee's name. He'll get them fired later for embarrassing him like that.

You're finally seated at your table. It's one of the nicer ones, private enough so others won't see nor hear you and with an amazing view over Pentagram City.

Vox calms himself and the two of you continue your conversation from earlier.

It doesn't take long for a young waitress to come to take your orders. She seems almost nervous, though you suppose it's understandable given the reputation the Vees have. You find your favourite from the menu, and Vox orders a bottle of wine along with your meals.

"Thank you for taking me here. It's been really nice."

Vox flashes you a smile. "Of course. Only the best for you."

Soon the waitress is back with a wine bottle and two glasses. She opens the bottle and goes to fill your glass, only to trip on the table leg.

He sees in slow motion as the red wine gets spilled right onto your lap.

There's a split second of silence before the waitress starts to chant a string of apologies like a prayer. You try to assure her that it'll be okay. It was an accident, and this certainly wasn't the worst that has happened to you.

The opposite of you Vox's claws dig into the table, leaving permanent marks on it's surface.

This bitch. This useless piece of shit DARED TO FUCKING RUIN YOUR CLOTHES.

In a fit of panic she tries to swipe off the spillage with a hand chief. That does nothing but manage to make the mess worse, and only when Vox grabs her by the shoulder to drag her away from you does she realize that.

Before you get to say anything you're pulled up from your seat. There's a quick flash of light and suddenly you're back in Vox's quarters in the Vees' tower.

It takes a moment for your brain to catch up. You can feel Vox's hands shaking slightly before he lets go of you.

He's about to lose his composure.

"I did everything right," his voice distorts in the middle of the sentence. He's too worked up to keep up the calm, collected, and charming facade he's mastered.

"I made plans. I double-checked all the boxes."

He stomps off to the living room, practically tearing off his jacket.

"It was supposed to be perfect."

Vox slumps down on the couch. His shoulders sag and he looks at you with what you can only describe as desperation.

He had tried so hard to make today special, yet it seems like the universe had a different plan.

He draws in a shaky breath. His voice is small and you think you might have heard him sniffle when he spoke again.

"I had to make it perfect…"

"Vox…" You take his hands onto yours and he doesn't resist when you place soft kisses on both of them.

"You know, I really enjoyed today. Even though we had to wait forever in line at that restaurant and my clothes got ruined. Do you know why?"

He shakes his head.

"Because I got to spend it with you."

He smiles, despite still feeling down about all his plans being ruined.

"Thank you for taking me out. If it's okay with you, I'd like to spend the night?"

"I won't say no to that, but let's get you to something a bit more comfortable, shall we?"

He picks you up and you wrap your arms around him as he carries you to his bedroom. He agrees to let you borrow one of his shirts, and the two of you spend the rest of the evening cuddled up watching movies.

Maybe today wasn't so bad after all.

#vox x reader #vox x you #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader

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citruslullabies · 1 month

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Hello! So this is my first time ever doing a request so I hope it’s good! But could you do Dogday x Reader/Angel, where Angel gets injured really badly and ends up getting impaled by metal and ends up needing to get the metal ripped out and sewn up?? Maybe dogday could comfort the reader during it?? I’m so sorry if that’s too much!! Okay that’s all really have a nice day/night!

Of course sweetie!

Trigger warnings: blood, injury, near-death experience

Romantic/platonic: unspecified

Requested by: anonymous

Category: angst + fluffy end

Ship (romantic or platonic): Dogday x injured!reader

Word count: 518

Angelic Wounds

Dogday was forever in your favor, you were his angel and his light. His dreams and his hope, he would be absolutely crushed if anything happened to you.

He was a little ways away from you, hesitant due to a gut feeling but separated so he could scrounge up whatever scarce food there was in this place for you, Poppy, Kissy Missy, and himself but he was more so looking for you three. He found a few things, he got lucky and they were in cans. One of them he was a little scared to bring back since he could tell one of the small ones got its grimy little teeth sunk into it.

The canine was storing the cans in a dingy little bag he found, leaving the busted one to thenside to just hold with his paw in case it was still any good. Couldn't be too picky when you were desperate to survive. He was peaceful until his ears practically shot off his head when he heard a scream that sounded like a bobcat, quickly looking up and looking in the direction it came from. Was it… no it couldn't be you. Right? You always handled yourself so well, it couldn't be you - but it was. He knew it and ran hot on his heels to get to you.

He found you on the floor, sobbing your eyes out with a piece of metal through your arm. You were trying to pry it off but it was heavy and deep, much to you and Dogday’s dismay. Your companion ran over to you in a hurry, panicking and holding you close. “Angel!?” He asked, looking at your arm and carefully resting his paw below the wound. “What happened!?”

“I- I don't know! It just… it just fell out of nowhere and I didn't move in time-” You said, struggling through hiccups and sobs. He nodded and understood that accidents were bound to happen, he carefully went through your backpack and got some bandages. With love and care, he tended to you just as you tended to him once before. He stitched you up, despite your cries and blood touching his fur breaking his heart he persevered and fixed you up before bandaging the stitches. He held you tightly.

While you cried from the pain, he couldn't help but cry too. He cried knowing he could have lost you if he wasn't any faster, but he also cried knowing that if he had stayed with you and listened to his gut to stay near this wouldn't have happened. He carefully rubbed you back while sitting back and having you in his lap. He never wanted to feel your blood against his paw pads, never wanted to see you cry in pain and agony while desperately trying to escape the feeling like a hopeless cat turned into road pudding.

“Shh.. shh.. Angel, it's okay. It's okay now. I'm here, and I'm not leaving you alone.” He cooed, pressing his head against yours with his big floppy ear scrunched between your faces.

A wounded angel could still fly, luckily.

Thanks for requesting!

#poppy playtime #smiling critters #poppy playtime x reader #dogday #dogday poppy playtime #dogday x reader #dogday x y/n #poppy’s playtime x reader #poppy playtime 3 #poppys playtime #dogday x you #smiling critters dogday #poppy playtime dogday

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inej-ruination-ghafa · 1 year

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GIVE PEACE A CHANCE - J.M

Warnings: mentions of sex, runaway children?

Pairing: pre-outbreak Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: you had never thought that finding s little girl injured in the street would lead to loving a man that you had just met.

Wordcount: 3.1k

The summer sun was sweltering as you walked down the street, shopping bags heavy in your hands as you tried to make it back to your house. The summer of 1997 was too warm for your liking and you couldn’t wait for it to cool down into the fall.

You had just moved into the Texan neighbourhood and didnt know anyone yet; your best friend who you were sharing the house with had met a few people including the new mother Janet and the Adlers who seemed like the classic gossipers. Your introverted nature was challenged here where all the neighbours seemed to be friends.

You placed your bags down at the end of your drive as you tried to reach for your keys in the pocket of your shorts, rummaging round for them and finally pulling them out when you heard a little girls cry.

Your head instantly whipped around as you looked for where the sound came from and when you spotted the little girl in the middle of the street, lying there as she clutched onto her leg, you looked around. There was nobody else coming for her and normally, you would assume that someone was going to come and get her, something in you told you to check on her.

You looked at the little girl as she jogged over. She had dark curly hair that was tied into two pigtails on either side of her head and her face was distorted with the tears. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she clutched onto her knee and that’s when you spotted the gash along her leg, it was dark with blood and dirt.

Once again you looked around to see if there was anybody looking for the girl and when nobody came at the sound of her cries, you assumed she must have been some kind of runaway and that piqued your interest. You didnt want some little girl to be stuck out here in the heat by herself.

You knelt down next to her and she looked up at you, eyes wide and mouth turned into a frown as she scooted a little bit back, “My daddy says not to talk to strangers,” she said between her sobs, her words coming out in hiccups.

There was a reassurance that she had parents and once again you looked around for them but they were nowhere to be seen and that made you even more worried for the little girl.

You smiled, trying to seem non-threatening, “I just moved onto the street, that’s my house,” you said, pointing at the small bungalow on the corner of the street where you had dumped your bags. You pulled out your key from your pocket to show the house number on and she looked over your shoulder at your house, “See, I’m not gonna hurt you,”

She sniffled, the hand that wasn’t clutching onto her leg going up to her face to wipe her face clean, “You’re the pretty girl my Uncle Tommy was talking about,” she said nonchalantly.

Your face heated up as you looked at her, you didn’t realise that anybody had noticed her and hoped that her uncle wasnt some creepy old perv, “Where is your uncle Tommy?” You asked and she shook her head before turning her head to wipe her nose on her shoulder.

“At home,” she explained between her sniffles but it seemed that your presence had calmed her down because she wasn’t sobbing anymore at the pain from her leg

When you noticed a car making its way across the road, you extended your hand to her, “Let’s get you out of the road kid,” you said and you could see the way she hesitated before taking your hand and allowing you to pull her up.

You helped her up, hand on her shoulder as you ushered her out of the road as the car sped past through the cul-de-sac and towards the exit of the street. She winced when she stepped up the curb before sitting back down on the side.

“What’s your name honey?” You asked and she looked up at you, eyes red from the crying.

“Sarah,” she said and you said your name to her and she repeated, “That’s a pretty name,”

“Thank you Sarah, your names very pretty too,” you said, the pad of your thumb brushing a tear away from her cheek and she smiled at the action.

You were still curious as to why this little girl was crying in the middle of the street and why she was out here all by herself. You looked around again and nobody was coming to get her so you began to fear the worst.

“What’s happened to your leg?” You asked and she looked down, sniffling to herself.

“I was looking for fireflies in the garden and followed them out here and I fell over,” she explained and you nodded, looking at her knee. It was just a bit of a graze that needed to be cleaned up but she must have been in pain because you could see her wincing every time she touched it.

“Does that hurt?” You asked and she nodded, her demeanour turning shy.

You pressed a kiss to your pointer finger before placing it on the wound and she grinned, “You feel any better?” You asked and she nodded, a chuckle on her lips.

You smiled at the girl and looked around again, hoping she didnt see the worried crease between your brows.

“Where do you live honey?” You asked and she pointed at the house only a few doors away from where you were sitting. It seemed like a nice home with a porch and a big bay window that pointed out to the street.

“I'll take you home yeah, your daddy’s probably worried about you,” you said and you picked her up, the little girls legs wrapping around your waist and your hadn coming under her legs, supporting her.

As you walked across the street, you could hear yelling and assumed that it was the new couple thaat had moved in. It was a typical suburban street and as you looked around, you wondered what kind of dream you were living in.

“How old are you Sarah?” You asked as you walked the distance to her house and she looked over at you, her arms wrapped around your neck.

“I’m six,” she said and you nodded.

“You’re such a big girl,” you said and her face lit up, “I’m 23,”

That’s when you heard the door slam open at Sarahs house and some man stood at the door, yelling into the house, “Damn it Tommy! You don’t leave the gate open!” He exclaimed.

He seemed stressed out, his hands running through his hair and down to his beard as he scanned the area for his daughter and when his eyes landed on you holding the little girl in your arms, his shoulders sunk as all the tension left him.

The man immediately started running towards you and you finally got a good look at him. He was an attractive man who was probably only a few years older than you who had a grey hair or two growing from his hair - probably from the stress of this runaway child of his. He had deep brown eyes and a deep crease between them from where he was furrowing his brows.

You couldn’t imagine what he was thinking as he saw some random woman holding his child in the middle of the street and you walked faster to get there.

“Sarah, there you are babygirl,” he said, holding his hands out and you seamlessly passsed her over to her father. He ignored you for a second as he doted on the little girl, his hand coming to her face to smooth out the curls on her forehead, “What were you doing out here,”

“I was looking for fireflies daddy, and I fell over,” she said and her father instantly checked her over, spotting the graze on her leg.

He tutted to himself before bringing his hand back to her face, “My brave girl, does it hurt?”

She nodded her head before turning to look at you, “But our neighbour made it better,” she said before saying your name.

Her fathers attentions turned back to you and you felt like as he looked at you, eyes narrowed, that the entire gaze of the world was on you and he was somehow looking into your soul. Your face lit up under his gaze, the warmth spreading over your cheeks as you lifted your hadn up for a wave.

He repeated your name back to you and you nodded. You could almost see the cogs turning in his mind as he tried to figure out what your intentions were so you clarified it for him, “I was putting my groceries away when I heard her crying,” you explained.

Once again, you watched some of the tension fall out of his shoulders and the crease between his brows lessen. He was about to say something when he heard someone call his name out, Joel.

“Joel! Did you find her?” The voice asked and you turned to see a man standing at the doorway of the house, one hand holding onto the doorway and the other by his side.

You assumed that this other attrctaive man was his younger brother, the uncle tommy who yous attention you allegedly had caught. Joel turned back to look at him and you saw his face contort into one of annoyance.

“Yeah, no thanks to you! Get dinner set up, we’ll be in soon,” he called out and Tommys eyes locked with yours.

“Can she stay for dinner daddy?” Sarahs voice asked innocently and you turned your attention away from the man at the door to the man standing here.

His eyes scanned you over again and you could already tell that he was an untrusting man who wasnt sure what you wanted. But as he looked at you, he couldn’t deny that you were beautiful but you seemed younger than him and at thirty, he wasnt used to having dinner with beautiful girls.

“I don’t want to intrude,” you said, taking a step back as your introverted side came out, clear and apparent.

Sarahs eyes were wide as she looked up at her father and he sighed as he looked back at you, “We have enough for one more if you want,” he said, his tone gruff and almost reluctant.

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips and you nodded, “Let me put my groceries away and uh, ill be back,” you said, your hadn reaching out hesitantly to brush a piece of hair behind the girls ears and her face lit up.

Joel watched as you rushed back to your house and he walked back into the house, looking down at Sarah, “Let’s get your knee cleaned up okay,” he said and she nodded.

He carried her into the bathroom, sitting her down on the toilet seat as he pulled the first aid kit out from under the sink. Gently, he brushed a wipe against the dirt on the graze, looking up to see the tears welling up in the girls eyes - he hated to see her cry.

He placed a colourful themed plaster on her knee before pressing a kiss to the plaster and watching as the tears left her. He wiped a tear away before helping her to her feet, taking her hand in his.

“She’s very pretty daddy,” she said as she looked up at him.

He shrugged, “I guess so,” he said as he looked away from his daughter and out of the window to see you lightly jogging back over to his house.

As soon as you had left his house, you knew that he was a special man with a very lovely little girl. You rushed into your house, fumbling again with your keys as you rushed to make it inside so that he wasn’t waiting too long.

You sprayed a bit of perfume on, trying to look nice as you brushed your hair out. You didnt want this man to think that you were a slob. to say that you were instantly attracted to the man would be true, the second you laid eyes on him you had fallen completley for him even though you didnt know what he was like.

You knew your best friend would never let you live it down if you didnt at least try to look nice and shoot your shot. You rushed back to his house, trying not to look too eager as you knocked on the door.

Sarah was the one who opened it and before her father could scold her for opening the door when she didnt know who was outside, the words were taken from his mouth. It was just a quick bit of a makeup and a nicer outfit but he thought you were stunning.

“You want to come in?” He asked and you nodded. He watched as you walked in, merrily chatting to Sarah and he cursed himself. He hadnt felt these feelings bubbling up in his chest since Sarahs mother had left him and he knew what had happened to him then.

He hadnt dated in six years, hadn’t kissed a woman since Sarahs mother and although he got plenty of action and was hit on by every single mother in the school district, he hadn’t dated anyone in a while.

He pulled out the chair for you at the table and you smiled, sitting down and thanking him. Sarah rambled on about something that she was reading and he watched as you listened intently, asking questions and stoking her joy.

As Tommy and Joel started to grab the pasta that he had made for dinner, the younger brother had a smirk on his face as he saw the way that Joel watched you.

“Ive never seen you look at a woman like that before,” He said with a teasing smile on his face.

Joel turned to him, a glare on his face, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, picking up a kiddy bowl of pasta and another one for you.

He placed the bowl down on Sarahs mat and smiled at her before turning to you, “I hope you like it, you’re not allergic to anything right?” He questioned.

You blinked, thinking over what he said before shaking your head, “No, nothing, and this is lovely, thank you for inviting me,” you said, trying to hide your nervousness.

“You want wine ma’am?” Tommy asked and you looked at Joel before nodding, watching as the man poured you a glass of red.

He pursed some for Joel and himself before putting a glass of milk down for Sarah, “So, when did you move into the neighbourhood?” Joel asked you.

You finished your mouthful of food before looking at him, “A few weeks back, me and my friend just finished our gap year and I’ve got a job locally,” you explained. His eyes went wide and you could tell he was wondering how old you were and you chuckled at his reaction, “I’m twenty three,”

He nodded, a slight smile on his face as Tommy smiled ast his brothers reaction, hed ever seen him this comfortable in front og a girl he had just met before and knew that you were someone special but he could also tell that he was insecure about the slight age gap.

Once dinner was over and Sarah had said goodbye to you, you stood at the door, the evening setting sun illuminating down on you, “Thank you so much Joel, I had a really nice night,” you said, a smile on your face, “And if you ever need a babysitter, I’m just across the street,”

“I might just have to take you up on that, good night,” he said and you repeated the sentient before taking a step outside of the house.

Joel looked back at his brother who stood in the doorframe, shaking his head at his brothers inability to make a move. There was a moment where he hesitated as he looked at you start to walk away.

He had been scared ever since Sarah’s mother to fall in love but there was something about you after you’d only known each other for a few hours that he knew he could trust. He was worried about introductions a woman into Sarahs life but she had already warmed up to you so he wasnt too worried.

He called out your name and you turned back, a smile still evident on your face from the dinner “Would you like to have dinner sometime? Without Sarah?” He asked and your face lit up.

You nodded a little too enthusiastically, “I’d love to,” you said, walking back and digging around your purse for a pen before scribbling your house phone number onto his hand, “Call me sometime, or you know where i live so,”

Your voice trailed off and you leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cheek that made both your faces heat up in a blush before you started to walk away.

You were halfway across the street when you turned back to look at him still standing in his doorway, waiting for you to go into your house and you smiled to yourself at the situation. You could already tell that you were going to like him a lot.

I loved writing this and was thinking of doing s sequel of their date and something just because I think that'll be cute, let me know what you think :)

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djarincore · 3 months

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The Object of My Desire

SUMMARY: You're a hardworking scholar and the spoiled daughter of a corrupt nobleman.

The mercenary hired for your protection is more than willing to take your father's money, just not your bratty attitude. Luckily, he's got a few ways to deal with spoiled little girls like you.

PAIRING: fighter!price x wizard!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

TAGS: DND!au, porn with some plot, f masturbation, dirty talk, cunnilingus, he bends you over a desk, PIV, rough sex, unprotected sex, slight breath play, creampie, slight jealously, reader gets called a bitch (not by Price but he does call you a brat whoops)

A/N: this is just a silly little idea that popped into my head while I tried learning more about DND! I actually rolled some dice to make some decisions/outcomes and it made the writing experience way more fun 10/10 recommend

Winter’s gray sky cast a torrent of rain against the cobblestone roads and blew frigid winds through the streets of Moongarde. Despite the relentless weather, citizens continued to migrate towards the town's center in attendance for the annual Heroes Feast.

You clutched your cloak tighter against your chest as you weaved through the crowds of people heading in the opposite direction. There were more important things to deal with than a stupid celebration—like the supposed danger you were in.

Having a father who enjoyed making enemies in high places certainly made your life interesting. Though, the threats on your life were, frankly, a nuisance. You had much better things to do than worry about silly threats from cowardly, old men. But, your father worried; he worried enough to hire a mercenary to guard you.

You hoped he wasn't old and boring like the last one you chased away. Any guard who succumbed to simple illustory spells like fear weren't worth the gold your father spent.

Ahead, a hanging sign swung forward in the wind. Carved into the wood was a crow perched on a branch, staring off beyond the borders of its design. The Ivory Crow—a dingy, little establishment you loathed to enter.

With a grimace, you made your way up the creaking wooden stairs. Already, you could hear rowdy, clamorous songs and bellowing voices seeping through the cracks of its shabby, wooden walls.

Before you could reach out to push open the swinging doors, they burst open and a man stumbled out, his weight nearly toppling onto you.

“S’rry ‘bout tha’, m’ss,” he slurred, hiccuping as he ended his sentence. He grabbed onto one of the doors to steady himself, though he still swayed.

“Move,” you demanded. His body blocked half the entrance and you weren’t interested in squeezing past him. He was covered in stains, presumably sweat and booze from the acrid smell of him.

He lifted his head towards you, eyes half-lidded. “Hey, don’ tell me wha’ ta do,” he hissed.

You rolled your eyes and raised a finger towards the man. The familiar warmth of magic pooled at your fingertip and was dispelled when you tapped his forehead.

He crumpled to the ground, eyes closed with his chest still rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.

You wiped your finger against your velvet cloak and stepped over the unconscious body into the tavern.

The inside was warmly lit by a large candle chandelier hanging from the tall rafters and more candles decorating tables. No one in the tavern seemed to have noticed your exchange. They were all absorbed in their own ideas of fun.

A dwarven bard strummed her lute on top of a table, singing an unfamiliar tune and absorbing the adoring applause of drunken patrons who chimed in off-key. Couples, locked in heated embraces, cozied themselves to dimly lit corners of the tavern.

If it wasn’t singing or lovers, there was plenty of conversation floating through the air to distract from anything outside.

Your eyes scanned the tavern’s edge, looking for a lone figure at one of the tables.

The mercenary gave your father instructions for you to find him at the Ivory Crow. Look for a bear on the pommel of his sword, your father had said.

In the far corner of the room, you finally spoted a vaguely familiar figure matching your idea of him, sitting on a stool with his back facing the wall and nursing a pint of ale between his hands. His eyes were downcast as he stared at the overflowing foam sliding down the metal pint.

He seemed to be the only lone figure in the tavern, everyone else was joined by at least one other companion.

His attire was shades of muted green and brown, darkened by grime and dirt. A sword tucked in its scabard leaned against the table. The pommel bore the crest of a roaring bear head.

You approached swiftly, maneuvering your way past the overflowing tables filled with patrons and stumbling drunks trying to get to the bar.

When you reached the mercenary, you stood at the edge of his table. His gaze lifted from his drink to you. Blue eyes met yours.

He wasn't as old as your last guard, and he certainly wasn't as boring to look at.

There was no surprise on his face as he looked at you, no glimmer of recognition; his stern countenance gave away nothing of his thoughts. His gaze was almost intense, discerning, and calculating.

You broke eye contact first to look down at the round stool opposite him. It had a spot of liquid on the edge that made you grimace.

All the other surrounding chairs looked occupied. So, you dug through your leather bag and pulled a purple cloth from it.

You wordlessly conjured up a spectral blue hand and offered up the cloth for it to wipe away the liquid. The hand dried up the liquid and deposited the cloth on the table before vanishing.

The mercenary had crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall to watch you, legs spread wide. Inquisitive eyes followed as you took a seat, back stiff with hands tucked into your cloak, clutching it tighter to your body as if it were shielding you.

“Ser Jonathan Price, correct?”

He nodded once and said nothing.

You fished a hefty pouch from your leather bag and tossed it towards him. The platinum pieces inside rattled as they hit the table.

His eyes fell to the bag for a moment, then slid back up to you, not attempting to reach for the pouch.

Maybe he was unimpressed.

“There's your payment for today—one hundred platinum pieces,” you stated and cleared your throat. “Now, the rules for this arrangement are simple: protect me and stay out of my way.”

You think he understood. He didn't say anything otherwise. There was a slight twitch in your eye when he tilted his head like he was looking at an amusing, little oddity.

After another moment his arms unfurled and a hand reached out for the pouch. He cradled it in his palm, hefting it for its weight. The coins rattled. When he pushed two fingers into the closed seam and spread it open, you scoffed.

“If you think I'm lying, don't. Your coin is there.” You crossed your arms, in an attempt to be as nonplussed as he was—it was a poor attempt. You couldn't help the frown that stuck to your lips.

He removed his fingers from the pouch and rapped his knuckles down hard against the wooden table twice, making you flinch and catching the attention of a passing barmaid.

Their exchange was quick. She turned her head toward him with a bright smile, flirty even as her eyes roamed down his figure. He pointed a finger down at his pint and flicked his wrist up to call for one more. She nodded and flitted back to the bar.

“Easy enough,” he said when he turned back to you. His voice was smoky, low. Probably caused by too many cigarettes and shouting. He rested his forearms on the table, one hand still gripped around the pouch. “But drop the ser, m’ not a knight.”

Your brows furrowed. You recalled the description your father gave you of him. A knight who served under the King’s banner for twenty years. “But you’re-”

“I was,” he interrupted firmly, leaving you with no room to argue.

Your mouth remained open, wanting to bite back, but when his brow raised slightly at the hint of a challenge, you clenched your jaw. Any attempt to delve further into the topic would only prove futile and a waste of time.

You took in a deep breath through your nose and exhaled through your mouth. “Fine,” you acquiesced. “How do I address you then?”

“John’s good enough for me."

“Okay, John,” you ground out and stood from your seat. “I want to leave before nightfall.”

He held his hand up, stopping you in your place. “We're not going anywhere yet, love.”

You bristled at both the nickname and his order. The arrangement was supposed to be the other way around. You give him orders and he follows.

“Sit, drink—I already bought you a mug.”

On cue, the barmaid returned to the table with another overflowing pint in her hand and set it down on your side. She wiped her hand down on her apron and looked at John, her charming smile returning. “Anythin’ else I can getcha?”

“No, thank you.” He returned her smile with a grin of his own. He dug into the pouch and pulled out a platinum piece, setting it in her outstretched hand.

Her eyes widened as she shook her head. “This is too much! The drinks are only ten silver!”

You crossed your arms and interjected, “I agree. That's far too much.”

“Keep it,” he assured, waving her off.

The barmaid scurried away with an even wider smile than you thought possible. Her hair and skirt bounced as she went.

With her gone, he turned his attention back to you and gestured back to your stool. “Drink with me.”

The foam dribbling down the sides of the metal pint made you grimace. You didn't drink ale; it wasn't to your taste. You preferred the rich, sweet taste of Evermead.

But, another part of you was tempted, not by cheap ale. It was the mercenary, the ex-knight, Jonathan Price. Stern to you, yet kind to the barmaid. Silent but still expressive. You felt the tug of curiosity, the desire to learn everything about this stranger and unfold his secrets.

You sat, watching as he took his ale and the bob of his throat as he drank.

He set down his drink, now half full, and nodded his head toward your mug. “Don't be shy, love. Go on.”

Your hand snuck out from your cloak and grasped the handle, cold and slightly sticky. Slowly, to not spill, you lifted the mug and took a sip. Cold liquid slid down your throat. The ale was bitter, watered down, and made your mouth twist with disgust.

“That bad, eh?” He chuckled. You were alarmed to find his low, raspy chuckle disarming. Surely, the ale hadn't got to your head already.

You set the mug down, pushing it further away with your fingers, and wiped your lips clean of any foam left behind with the back of your hand. “I can't believe you like this.”

“Oh, I don't like this garbage.” He laughed, grabbing his mug once more. His thumb idly ran down the handle, throwing a glance out to the crowded tavern. “Just drinking to pass the time.”

“Surely there are better taverns to drink in.” You glanced around at the rowdy patrons once more. Two men were standing toe to toe at the table across from you, exchanging heated words.

When he failed to respond, you tried following his eye. It led you to the opposite side of the room toward the barmaid who served you earlier tending to a group of adventurers. She pressed her hip against the table and chatted with them, laughing.

“So, it’s not the drinks that bring you back,” you muttered to yourself, moving your gaze back to him.

The small smile that tugged the corner of his lips as he watched her caused a strange feeling to stir in your chest. You clenched your hands together, forcing away the uncomfortable squeeze.

You stood abruptly from your seat, ignoring your chair tipping backwards and hitting the floor. His attention was on you again. The smile was gone.

“We’re going.”

“Haven't finished your drink,” he called as you stormed off.

You ignored him, pushing straight between the two quarreling men. Your hands pressed hard against both their chests to pry them out of your way.

The two men stumbled back, caught off guard.

“Hey!”

“Don't touch me, you little bitch,” the other snarled. His hand shot out to grab your wrist, narrowly latching on.

His movements were sloppy, most likely from all the ale he'd been drinking. You were quick enough to snatch your hand away before he could restrain you.

You were beginning to really hate this tavern.

More patrons were beginning to watch the exchange, sitting back like it was some spectacle.

But, you saw John rise from his stool. His hand grasping his sword as he approached the men from behind.

“Let's settle down, gentleman,” he said with a tired sigh.

The man who tried grabbing you turned his attention to John. “Stay outta this,” he hissed, clenching his fists and setting his shoulders back. He was much larger than John, towering at least a head taller.

You didn't want to find out how well a brawl between the two would end.

“Obtempero."

The spell sliped from your lips and the man stiffend. In that instance, your mind was linked with his as you forcibly erased any free will he had.

Shut up and sit down, you commanded.

The room went silent as the man lowered onto his seat. You clenched your jaw when your head began to throb, a sign of him fighting against your control.

“Quickly,” you beckoned to the mercenary. Your control over the man’s mind wouldn't last long and you didn't want to stick around to face his wrath.

You turned and dashed out the tavern doors, followed closely by John who was laughing to himself.

“Clearly you can handle yourself. Don't know what you need me for,” he said.

A light rainfall had started, coating you and the streets in water. You raised your hood over your head to shield yourself.

The street was still bustling with citizens with their umbrellas. A good cover in case the man tried following the two of you.

“I only agreed to a guard to appease father’s worries,” you muttered, sidestepping a pair of children running past you, chasing each other with wooden swords. “But, dealing with pea-brained oafs is easy compared to defending myself from someone with a dagger.”

He only hummed in reply, walking in stride with you up the cobblestone street. The rain was beginning to dampen his hair and clothes, but he didn't seem to mind.

You could feel your concentration on the spell waning the further you got until it snapped. You tensed and reached to grab John’s hand. His fingers wrapped around yours without question.

“We have to-”

“You bitch! I'm gonna tear you apart!”

Your head snapped around to find the man burst from the tavern door with a roar. Your heart jumped. The man almost seemed to burn with fury as he barreled up the street in search of you.

“This way.”

John tugged your hand and you allowed him to pull you through the street, weaving your way through throngs of people. He pulled you through unfamiliar streets that passed by in a blur before taking a sharp right into an alleyway, tugging you into the shadows.

Your back was against the stone walls and you heaved a sigh. Your heart raced with adrenaline. This certainly wasn't anything you'd experienced while nose-deep in a book. “Gods, I-”

“Shh,” he hushed, placing a hand over your mouth.

Your eyes widened. He was looking out towards the street and you realized how close he was standing, nearly pressed against your front. Your hand gripped his wrist; to pry it off or hold him close, you didn't know.

When he deemed the coast clear, his hand fell away.

“Don't do that again,” you said weakly.

He looked down at you, an amused smile forming. “Understood. Mind giving me my hand back then?”

You didn't realize your grip on his wrist remained. You released him and slipped away.

“I'll lead us home.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun was just setting by the time you returned to the manor. John had followed you silently the whole way.

“Welcome back, ma'am,” Ann greeted once you entered the foyer. She was a maid you'd known since you were a child. Her warm smile was akin to that of a mother’s, though you'd never call her such.

“Ann will run you a bath and get you some new clothes.”

She was already moving up the left side of the split staircase to fulfill your request.

“What's wrong with my clothes?” John glanced down at his attire, smoothing his hand down the front of his doublet, now soaked with rain.

“They're filthy and soaked. Now go.” You used your hand to shoo him off and he followed Ann with a sigh, ascending the stairs.

You went off to another area of the manor where you could take your own bath and wash away the grime of that tavern.

When the bath was filled and ready, you shed your robes and stepped into the warmth, sighing as the warm water enveloped your body. You ran your hand up your arm, over your neck, and down your collarbone.

While you washed, your thoughts wandered back to John. A hand slipped down the valley of your breasts and between your thighs.

There was no question that he was attractive. The mercenary was new and surprisingly exciting—an experiment to toy with. You wanted to win him, have him in the palm of your hand and study what made him tick.

Your index finger brushed against your clit. The first hum of pleasure bolted through your body. Slow teasing circles were drawn over your clit until you ached for more. Two fingers parted your folds to allow your middle finger to dip in.

You sunk lower into the water, chin rippling the surface, and let your eyes fall shut to embrace your own touch while imagining it was someone else's.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you slipped out of the bath, satisfied, you redressed into a new robe. The loose low neck reached your abdomen, teasing the inner valley of your breasts.

As you made your way to your room, you noticed the door was left slightly ajar. When you pushed open the door, you found John standing at your bookshelf, his fingers running down the spine of a tome.

He was in a fresh set of clothes, loaned from a butler by the looks of it. The untucked, white dress shirt clung to the curves of his muscles, growing taut when he folded his arms. The black pants fit his form enough to show off the thickness of his thighs.

You shut the door and leaned against it, eyeing his form. The ache between your legs was growing again, wanting more than just your fingers this time.

John turned around at the noise and you could see the buttons of his shirt were halfway done, revealing his toned chest with a smattering of hair.

“Impressive collection,” he remarked. “I’d expect no less from a wizard.”

“I spent my entire life building this collection,” you replied absently. Your mind was wandering to other things—the veins on his arms, the bulge of his pectorals in the shirt. You were unashamedly staring through lowered eyelids, greedily taking in the sight.

He was just as interested in your low cut robes. It was obvious in the way his eyes roamed your chest.

You chose to close the gap until you were beside the bookcase, just a foot away from his side.

He leaned his shoulder against the shelves and looked at you with a sly smirk. “Trying to charm me?”

Magic would make your game too easy.

Your hand moved to caress his jaw, smoothing over the soft hairs of his beard. He didn't move away, choosing to lean further into your touch.

“I don't need to,” you hummed. Your fingers clawed up the slope of his neck and into the short strands of damp hair, drawing his face closer. “You're already mine.”

“That so?” His words fluttered along your lips in warm breaths. Strong hands fell to the curves of your waist, smoothing down to your ass and pulling you against his front.

You felt the growing stiffness of his cock, trapped in his pants, press against your abdomen which only made the throbbing of your cunt worse. Instead of responding, you leaned forward and sealed your lips tightly against his, tasting smoke and bitter ale on his tongue.

John was quick to respond, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip to get you to open up for him. His grip slid down your ass, roughly squeezing the soft flesh in his large palms.

You rubbed yourself against his bulge, trying to satisfy the need growing inside of you. There was a needy, animalistic frenzy in his low groan, vibrating in his chest.

He backed you up towards your desk. It was cluttered with more tomes you amassed over the years, threatening to spill at the slightest touch. Your prized spell book, a gift from your father, was also sitting open, flipped to the enchantment spell you used earlier at the tavern.

John didn't seem to care much for your precious collection as he swiped the books off your desk to make room to set you down. They scattered to the floor.

You pulled away, intent on telling him off. That spell book was one of a kind—

He didn't give you room to argue, much less breathe. His lips were already diving forward to capture yours again, dizzying you, driving any thought out of your head. Your legs spread around his to accommodate his body as he forced your attention back on him.

John’s hands pushed aside the fabric of your robe which easily fell around your waist, exposing your bare breasts to the cool room air. Your hardening nipples rubbed against the coarse fabric of his shirt.

Your hands roamed his chest in turn, running over the coarse hairs and clawing down his exposed sternum. You worked quickly to unbutton the rest of his shirt and pushed it off his broad shoulders.

Once revealed, you trailed your eyes over his chest and down to a nasty scar sliced from his upper torso across his stomach. It was old by the scaring. You briefly wondered if it was the reason he was no longer a knight as your hand reached out to brush over it.

John caught your wrist in an iron grip. When you looked back at his face, his stern expression told you enough to stay silent about it. With your short nod, the tension in the air lifted and he was back to work on you.

Another night then, you thought. You'd unravel his secrets eventually.

When he released your wrist and pulled away, he moved down to his knees, untying the knot at your waist and pushing aside the rest of the fabric to reveal the rest of your body. With your thighs spread, he could fit his hand between your thighs, feeling the arousal leaking from your cunt.

“So wet already?”

His middle finger parted your folds, dipping in ever so slightly, causing your hips to shift forward, but he pulled away before you could feel him any deeper. He got to his knees, grunting as his settled.

Your legs hooked over his shoulders, leaving him face to face with your cunt. His heavy breath fanned over your exposed cunt.

“What a sight,” he muttered to himself before leaning in to flick his tongue over your clit again and again.

Your body trembled with static after every stroke of his tongue. Your fingers locked through his brown hair, tugging sharply at the roots. He hissed through his teeth at the sting, but even that didn't stop him.

His hands gripped your thighs around his shoulders, digging into the soft flesh and then smoothing up until his hands cupped your ass to push you further into his mouth.

One of your hands rested on the table to give yourself leverage as you rode his face. The hair of his beard burned against your inner thigh.

The pleasure thruming through your veins forced your legs to lock around his head as your orgasm came to its peak.

“That's it,” he coaxed. “Come in my fuckin’ mouth, love.”

John kept his mouth on your fluttering cunt, refusing to pull away until he had taken every last drop of your cum. Your hands weakly pulled on his hair, but his fingers dug deeper into your thighs as he forced his head back in.

“Gods,” you panted, looking down at him between your thighs, devouring you like a starved man. “Fuck me already.”

“Patience,” he huffed, flicking his tongue languidly over your clit once again. Your body stiffened again. “You think you can take me after one little orgasm?”

As you clenched around nothing and his tongue continued to take long strokes over your cunt, you rolled your eyes and snapped back, “Don’t be so cocky.”

He rose quickly after your remark, yanking your body off the desk as he went and forcing you around. One of his palms met the back of your neck and pushed you flat against the desk. His cock pressed against your ass. The fabric of his pants were rough against your bare skin.

“Let-"

His other hand clamped over your mouth and he growled into your ear, “No—no more orders. I'll give you what you want, but don't start cryin’ when it doesn't fit.”

You ached, wanting to rub your thighs together but his legs were in the way. His hand moved from your mouth to the button of his pants to pull himself free.

You could feel his thick cock press against your ass. Even without looking, you could tell he was nothing like the other wizards you'd have meaningless flings with in school.

His cock notched at your entrance and he asked lowly, “Ready, love?”

The hand over your mouth moved to caress the valley of your knuckles as your hand clasped the edge of the desk. Such an intimate gesture you almost wanted to embrace by turning over your hand and intertwining fingers.

But, you didn't have time for much thought before he buried himself into you as deep as he could go without resistance. Which was only the tip of his cock.

Your walls clamped around him, refusing to let him bully his way deeper. You whimpered, white-knuckling the desk, and shut your eyes. Gods, he was too thick.

“Shh,” he cooed in your ear. His fingers slid across your temple and into your hair, keeping your head against the desk. “You wanted this, right? You can take more.”

And he did give you more—and more, and more. Your clawed at the desk, welled up tears spilling down the side of your face, as he stretched you around his cock. You didn't breathe, not until his hips met your ass and you were completely filled to the brim.��

You gasped, filling your lungs with air. The edge of the desk pressing against your abdomen allowed you to feel him deeper.

He grunted as you clenched around his length. “So fuckin’ tight,” he muttered to himself as he slowly rocked into your fluttering heat.

The friction wasn't enough for you. As always, you wanted more. You wanted to be fucked, ravished, devoured completely and thrown into a sickening rapture.

“More,” you moaned as his cocked dragged against your walls. You were needy and hungry for him to take you harder.

“Does a brat like you even know how to say please?” He slipped out of you completely instead.

You whined in protest, moving your hips back to fill the empty ache he left behind. His hands moved to grip your waist, holding you in place. “No, don't.”

“Too good to beg for it?” His fingers prodded at your entrance before he slipped two inside. They weren't comparable to his cock though—not as thick, not as full. “Come on my fingers then.”

His fingers curled against the sensitive spongey spot inside of you.

“F-Fuck you,” you ground out between your teeth, biting back a moan.

“That’s not what I asked for.” His voice was stern; there was no room for arguments, no room for demands other than his own.

You bit your lip. You weren't the one who was supposed to be begging—he was. Having John wrapped around your finger, desperate to please you like everyone else, was the end goal. But this?

Strong, commanding, taking what he wants—that was who John was. And even you couldn't help but relent to that dominance.

“Please.”

“Speak up, love.” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

Bastard.

“Please,” you repeated with a little more desperation than intended.

“Good girl,” he praised. His fingers slipped from you, pulling a string of your arousal with them, and he licked them clean. With his hands back on your hips, he lined up his cock and thrust back into you.

Your mouth hung open as your back arched into the desk. The pace he set was relentless. It rocked your desk, sending any books and papers left on it to the floor. But you didn't care anymore, not when he found that perfect spot inside you again and again. Your toes curled as warmth pooled in your stomach and your core tightened.

A hand wrapped around your neck once again, wrenching your back against his chest and forcing your head to the side. The sweat of your bodies melded you together. John’s fingers pressed on your throat with enough pressure to make you see stars. His gruff pants burst along the shell of your ear. His lips grazed the back of your neck as another hand moved to toy with your clit.

You cursed as your body seized up and you came around him. You held onto the arm pressed against your chest as you rode out your orgasm.

With a few more sharp thrusts, he spilled inside of you, flooding you with warmth. As you caught your breaths, he cupped your jaw and turned your head towards his to pull you into a searing kiss, still full of passion just like the first.

You were almost boneless, sinking into the kiss and his arms. “Bed,” you murmured, resting your head against his shoulder when he released your jaw. “Now.”

John clicked his tongue as he slid out of you. A mix of your arousal begin to leak down your leg. You flinched when his hand cupped your sex to stop anymore from escaping.

The action felt more possessive than anything else—something you weren't used to. Interest stirred in you once again.

#john price x reader #john price smut #cod smut #cod x reader smut #cod fanfic #cod x reader #john price fanfiction #mw2 fanfic #captain john price #cod mwii

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astrophileous · 6 months

Note

Happy birth month to you, Zara!! 🎉

I'd like to request a Derek Morgan x BAU!reader fic (angst, maybe leading to smut) where they are on a bombing case and as usual Derek, being our ever loving and stubborn explosives expert, stays with a target who activated the bomb trigger. Maybe reader is as stubborn as Derek and stays with him and it becomes a thing and all that pent up adrenaline and tension just 🤌🏼🫴🏼 😅

maybe some fluff after too 🥹

Thank you so much love!! Thanks for requesting as well ❤️ I hope you like how this turned out 💕

Warning(s): fem!reader, explosives, profanities, verbal altercation, 18+ nsfw content minors dni, handjob, angry sex (starts out that way at least), unprotected sex (p in v), creampie, lmk if I missed anything

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Derek was beginning to think that the universe was out to get him. It was the only logical explanation he could come up with for the situation he found himself stuck in: standing next to a minivan with an activated bomb underneath its driver's seat. The owner of the car, a woman by the name Pansy, was gripping his hand like a vice, cutting off circulation to it completely, but he couldn't care less about that. Getting blood into his hand was the least of Derek's worries right now.

"How's my baby?" Pansy suddenly asked amidst her tears.

Derek glanced at you, who had been trying to unbuckle the infant from his car seat for the past couple of minutes. One wrong move and the car would explode in the blink of an eye, obliterating everything in its immediate vicinity. This knowledge loomed at the back of your head as you languidly lifted the baby into your arms.

"Got him," you breathed out. You dashed away to take Pansy's son to safety, and despite her not being out of harm's way yet, Derek could feel the tightness of her grip around his hand loosening even if just for the tiniest bit.

Not three minutes later, you came back with a box of tools in your hand. Derek didn't like the grim expression on your face as your gaze flitted his way.

"The bomb squad isn't coming," you muttered.

"What?" Pansy exlclaimed. Even quiet as you were, there was no way you could say anything to Derek without Pansy hearing about it. The woman panicked as her eyes scampered repeatedly between you and Derek. "What are you talking about?"

"Pansy." Derek's voice came with a reassuring squeeze, a silent request for her to calm down. He turned to you again immediately, "What do you mean, they're not coming?"

"Land access is out since the bridge collapsed during the last bombing. They're sending in aerial support, but with everything that's been going on, it'll take at least 30 minutes, which is a time we don't have," you lamented, extending your hand to present the toolbox to Derek's face. "Hotch gave you the go-ahead."

With a curse under his breath, Derek accepted the box with his free hand. You slid in next to him so you could peek into the car.

"Pansy?" Frightened blue eyes scuttered towards your face. Despite the current predicament, you managed to offer her a somewhat genuine smile. "Hey, how are we holding up there? My name's Agent (Y/L/N), I work with Agent Morgan in the FBI. I wanted to let you know that your son is safe. He's with the rest of our team right now."

Pansy hiccuped around a sob. "He's safe?"

"One hundred percent." You nodded. "Listen, Agent Morgan here used to work with the bomb squad. He's gonna defuse the bomb so all of us can get out of here safely. But in order to do that, you need to let go of his hand, okay? Here, you can hold mine instead."

Your last statement caused Derek to turn his head around so fast, you were sure he would have gotten a whiplash. The incredulity was thick in his voice as he asked, "Sweet girl, what are you doing?"

You didn't look at him once. In fact, your eyes were still glued to Pansy's face when you said, "I'm not leaving you."

But Derek knew better.

You weren't saying that sentence to Pansy.

You were saying it to him.

In any other situation, Derek would have admonished you for your stupid decision. But right in that moment, in front of Pansy who was this close to spiraling, and with time completely against his side, Derek couldn't do anything else but relent. Reluctantly, he let go of Pansy's hand and allowed you to take his place. With another deep breath, Derek kneeled next to the car and began to work.

11 minutes and 16 seconds; that was how long it took for Derek to carefully disarm the explosive. Pansy sank into your embrace as soon as Derek removed the device from her seat, bringing it as far away from the crowd as possible as you took the young mother to see her infant son.

After neutralizing the threat, you received word from the rest of your team about the identity of the UnSub. Following a strenuous chase, you eventually closed the day with an arrest, ending the nightmare of the case once and for all. You marked it as a win in your book.

Back at the hotel, everyone scurried to their respective rooms in no time, eager to wash away the residual horror of the case with a cold shower and slept the exhaustion off before the team had to catch an early flight back to Virginia the next morning. You, too, had been dreaming about the plush mattress waiting for your arrival back at your room. But before you could reach the familiar door to your hotel room, your steps halted when warm fingers suddenly encircled your wrist.

"We need to talk," Derek said sharply. He didn't give you a chance to say anything before leading you towards his hotel room.

"What's this about, Derek?" you questioned once the door shut behind Derek's back.

"I can't believe you'd do something reckless like that, (Y/N)."

You frowned at him in confusion. "What? What do you mean?"

"You know what I'm talking about. You stayed back knowing there was a bomb! You knew what could've happened. You didn't have to be there, but you stayed anyway. What the fuck, (Y/N)?!"

"That's what this is about?" You scoffed incredulously. "You're mad at me because I did my job?"

"That wasn't part of the job and you know it, sweetheart. You could've been killed."

"I know that! God, you don't think I know that?!"

"You knew? Oh, good! So you knew about the chances of you getting killed in that situation, but you still went ahead and did it anyway. What the fuck were you thinking?!"

"I don't need to fucking explain myself to you, Derek." You stepped further into the room, trying to draw as much distance from the man whom you considered your best friend for the past two years of you working with the BAU. His hostility was foreign. You mourned the absence of his usual warmth as you wrapped your arms defensively around your torso. "What about you, anyway?"

"Me?"

"You act as if I was the only one putting themselves in danger, but you were there, too. You could've been killed as well. A little bit hypocritical, isn't it?!"

"That's different."

You rolled your eyes. "Of course it is. Why? Because your hero complex wouldn't allow you to share the stage with anyone else?"

"(Y/N)—"

"Or is it your trust issues that force you to do anything on your own?"

"Stop it—"

"Oh, I get it! Maybe you're no different than those other alpha males out there! Is that it? You want me to leave all the dangerous and scary jobs to the big, strong men—"

"I said, stop it."

A gasp stumbled past your lips when you suddenly found your back connecting with the wall, trapped between the concrete surface and Derek's muscular chest. There was no way to run. Derek's stare was sweltering as it pierced right through your soul.

"Have you always been this insufferable?" Derek growled.

"I don't know. Have you always been this chauvinistic?"

"You never know when to shut the hell up, do you?"

"Well—" you puffed your chest out, leveling your own stare with his unyielding one, "—why don't you make me?"

The atmosphere thickened inside the room.

Before you could process what was happening, Derek had suddenly lunged forward, claiming your lips in a kiss so heated unlike any other you had ever known.

Derek domineered every single one of your senses. Your body only knew his touch as his palms roamed your curves and edges. The kiss was a battle of desperation, a mess of tongue and heaving breaths that span your world off its axis.

When Derek's mouth strayed to your neck, nipping around the spot right below your ear, you swore your bones melted into liquid inside of your body.

"So goddamn aggravating," Derek griped against your ear. "You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?"

"You're just gonna keep talking? Or are you finally gonna put that mouth to a good use?"

The smirk on your lips was wiped away instantly when Derek kissed you again. He maneuvered the two of you towards the bed, where Derek laid you down with a gentleness that contradicted the spite he had shown so far. Clothes were being shed at an inhumane speed, and before long, you found yourself sprawled naked underneath Derek's impressive frame.

Your hand wandered southward as Derek peppered kisses across your chest. The moment your fingers wrapped around his length, Derek's whole body shivered in response.

"Fuck. What are you doing to me?" he muttered.

You continued to pump his shaft, enjoying the melodic sounds Derek was making as your pace grew faster with each second. Mere moments later, however, your movement was halted when Derek's fingers tugged at your wrist.

"Slow down, pretty girl. I wanna be inside of you when I cum."

His declaration was sealed with a kiss.

Using an unbelievable display of strength, Derek then manhandled you to your front, forcing you to rest on all fours as he settled on his knees right behind the sensual curves of your ass.

"Shit. Look at this pussy," Derek remarked crudely. You moaned into the bedsheets when his fingers rubbed up and down your slit, collecting the wetness without ever grazing the number one spot where you needed him the most. "Beautiful, sweetheart. You're so fucking gorgeous."

"You can tell me about how gorgeous you think I am later, Derek. Just shut up and fuck me already."

"Impatient girl." Derek chuckled.

You yelped when his palm landed a harsh slap to each one of your ass cheeks. The sting was chased away instantly by the feeling of Derek's cock prodding around your entrance. The two of you moaned in unison once his length went in, filling every inch of your channel until he was sheathed to the hilt.

As Derek started to move, the lump of arousal in the pit of your stomach increased in size. The drag of his cock felt delicious against your throbbing walls. Derek moved inside of you at a sedulous pace. The grip he had on either side of your hips felt like a promise of fresh bruises that you couldn't wait to wake up to once morning arrived.

With a particularly harsh thrust into your soaking pussy, Derek sent your brain gyrating into the stars.

"Derek, please—ohhh. Feels so good."

"I know, pretty girl. Fuck. Gripping my cock so well, sweetheart. You hear that? Hear how wet you sound?"

You nodded wordlessly, your ears assaulted by the squelching sound of your combined arousal as you pressed your face against the mattress. Derek drove into you even faster, hitting the same spot every single time that had you blabbering incoherently into the sheets.

"D-Derek? I'm—mmpphhh, I'm so close. S-So close... oh fuck."

"Yeah? You're close, sweet girl?"

Derek's arm went around your torso, then, holding you up beneath your breast without ever relenting his movement. His breath tickled your ear in this new position, and you held onto the muscular arm holding you up in fear of collapsing from the continuous strike of pleasure.

"Do you wanna cum, sweetheart? Wanna cum for me?"

"Y-Yes! Please, please, please, Derek. Please, wanna cum so bad."

"Okay." Derek's other hand slid down your abdomen, all the way past your navel, until the rough pad of his fingers found your swolen clit. He began to rub it aggressively, earning a loud cry as you writhed in rapture. "Go on, then, pretty girl. Cum for me. Just let it go, sweetheart."

Your whole body convulsed as you slammed head first into your climax. Derek held you close through it all, stroking your damp skin and whispering sweet nothings as you came down from your high. Not long afterward, his own release caught up to him, pushing Derek to empty everything he had into the warmth of your tender hole.

Once minutes had passed, Derek carefully pulled out from you before gently laying you down on the bed. You were lost too deeply in the post-orgasmic bliss to notice that Derek had disappeared into the bathroom. The fog in your brain only started lifting when Derek returned and spread your thighs apart, using a damp wash cloth to clean up the mess that the two of you made on your upper thighs.

"How are you feeling?" Derek asked after he tossed away the cloth, squeezing your thigh affectionately.

"Tired. But good," you answered with a smile. "So... we should probably talk about what just happened, huh?"

Your question caused Derek's shoulders to tense, but he relaxed them again when your fingers reached out for his hand.

"Sorry I yelled at you," he offered sincerely. "You don't know this, pretty girl, but I made a vow to myself a long time ago to protect you. You're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, I know that. But as long as there's air in my lungs, I will spend every day of my life trying to keep you safe. Do you understand?"

You nodded meekly as your heart constricted in its cage. Derek left a kiss to your knuckles before settling down to lie beside you.

"You're not the only one who made such a vow, Derek," you revealed quietly. "I also made one to myself that I would never drop your hand in the face of danger. I would never abandon you like that. I'd rather give my life than live in a world where you no longer exist."

"Don't say that. You don't mean it."

"But I do. I mean it with all my heart." You stroked Derek's cheek with the tip of your fingers, admiring his handsome face as his eyes stared at you intensely. "Wherever you go, I go, Derek."

"Wherever you go, I go as well," Derek promised, tightening the sanctity of the words with a kiss. "What you did was still stupid, though, so you better never do that again in the future."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Can we please pause this conversation 'till morning? I'm literally about to pass out right now."

Derek grinned upon hearing your statement. "I fucked you real good, didn't I?"

You punched him on the shoulder. "Asshole."

Derek laughed wholeheartedly before pecking your pouting lips. "Only for you, pretty girl."

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tarotwithlove · 7 months

Text

pick a card ⋆ what do people love about you?

reminder that this is a general reading and messages found here may not apply to everyone. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and don't force anything if it does not fit.

BOOK A READING WITH ME · LINKTREE · SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC · TIPS ♡ tips and feedback are highly appreciated!

GROUP ONE

cards ⋆ seven of swords, king of pentacles (reversed), knight of cups, the hanged man, eight of cups, the sun (reversed).

songs ⋆ amigo by lous and the yakuza. sorry - homecoming live by beyoncé. life after salem by lil nas x. pink + white by frank ocean.

hey there group one ♡ people love that nothing can truly get you down. you may experience hardship after hardship, but you will always come back. and, more than that, you will come back with a positive attitude and a positive outlook on life.

you seem to have an undying faith in the universe, in the divine and/or in god. and people love this so much about you that they want to be around you, they want to bask in your positive energy.

that’s not to say that people only think of you as positive and optimistic, but they know that if you are having a bad time or going through a bad patch, you will find a way out. you may complain and feel hopeless, but you do not wallow in your misery. you do not give up. they know that you have negative thoughts and feelings but you will never let these overtake your positive ones.

people love to be around you. they love how hopeful you make them feel about life. they love how much you restore their faith in the bigger picture - in the belief that even when they do not see a positive outcome, the divine is surely working on one.

they love that you make them want to work hard and not give up.

GROUP TWO

cards ⋆ page of pentacles, the moon (reversed), justice, eight of cups, the emperor, the devil.

songs ⋆ off to the races by lana del rey. identity by taemin. crazy eyes by alex mali. i-drip-or-is by jaden.

hey there group two ♡ people love that they can look after you or guide you in some way. you may feel alone and as if you are more a burden to those around you than anything else, but this is just not true and is largely a projection of your own thoughts and fears.

there is so much about you to love that you just do not see. and it is okay if you don’t see it, it doesn’t make it any less apparent. people love your youthfulness and the new perspectives you introduce them to. they also love they new perspectives they can introduce you to.

you may inspire people to take on the role of a figure they always wished they had in their own life. be it good friend, reliable sibling, kind teacher, loving partner - whatever it may be, people love that you allow them to step up in this meaningful way and be this better version of themselves. that you allow them to feel reliable and relied on.

they love that they can be around you and watch as you grow into yourself and who you’re meant to be. that is, in and of itself, enough for the people around you who love and care about you.

GROUP THREE

cards ⋆ knight of wands, knight of pentacles, the chariot, the tower, the emperor, ten of wands.

songs ⋆ xs by rina sawayama. geyser by mitski. monday by life of hojj. i’m that chick by mariah carey.

hey there group three ♡people love your love for life. you are a passionate, driven person who knows what they want out of life and knows what they need to do in order to achieve it.

you are consistent and you have the eye on the prize, never letting distractions or hiccups along the road get the better of you or stop you from working towards your dream.

you have an innate confidence in yourself. and even if you feel that this is untrue and you are actually a deeply insecure person, people see the way you carry yourself and hear the way you speak and they think of you as confident. they love that you are your own number one biggest fan and supporter.

anyone who looks at you or spends time in your presence knows that you will be great, that you will make a name for yourself in some capacity, and they love that they can witness this. they love that they can you before you become this great person.

honestly, with the chariot, the tower, and the emperor, the energy for this group is a bit overwhelming. as if the people around you are just consumed by how much they love and admire you as a person. it’s hard to say, oh, people love this about your or they love that about you, because it’s just that people love you.

you are a enigmatic force and people can’t get enough of you and your presence.

GROUP FOUR

cards ⋆ seven of cups (reversed), patience, the tower, death, ace of wands (reversed), knight of cups.

songs ⋆ got to get it by sisqo. liquid smooth by mitski. knock on by nct 127. stupid for you by waterparks.

hey there group four ♡people love your levelheaded maturity. you may be older than a lot of your peers, or you may just have a more mature outlook on life than those around you.

you may already know what you want to do with your life or you may have had certain life experiences that cause you to see the world in a completely different way from others your age.

people love that they can trust in you and rely on you. they love, too, that you will treat any situation with patience, and the care that it deserves. people love that they can clearly communicate with you; that they can have difficult conversations with you without it turning into an argument or being blown out of proportion.

this group, more than any of the others, may have a lot of secret admirers. and the majority of the people who are being channelled here are specifically people who have romantic interest in you. but this also goes for people who are not romantically interested in you, of course. regardless, what people love about is you is that you solid, reliable, and mature. they love that you can solve problems together instead of running away when things get too hard or even slightly too difficult.

#**#tarot #pac #pick a card #pick a photo #pick a pile #pick a picture #tarotonline #tarotcreator #tarotcommunity #tarot community #channeled message #channelled message #spirituality #spiritualism

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snailmail444 · 5 months

Note

for Alex (sdv)! 🧑‍❤️‍👩💦🛻

Alex SDV Head-cannons

From neon-gothicc’s ask game 💞💖

18+ MDNI NSFW

🧑‍❤️‍👩 what is their ideal first date?

💚 Alex is a grandma’s boy at heart. He’s grown up on years of romantic stories about Evelyn and George in their prime.

💚 So when it comes to first dates? Alex’s bar is set SO high. He’s stressing himself out trying to make sure the details are absolutely perfect. A complete ball of nerves.

💚 At the end of the day, he’d decide to take you to the first place George took Evelyn. Not out of laziness, but because he’s always felt like it was magical, the way they told it.

💚 He ends up driving you out to the botanical gardens in Grampleton, and his hands are sweating the whole time. There’s a picnic basket packed up in the backseat, and he’s nervous as all hell.

💚 Aside from a couple of hiccups, the date goes over spectacular. The gardens are gorgeous, and a butterfly landed on your cheek, which Alex got a hasty picture of.

💚 It’s his new phone Lock Screen.

💦 what's a kink they didn't think they would like, but ended up enjoying?

💚 Alex hasn’t had the most experience outside of vanilla sex. Not that he isn’t open to experimenting—he definitely is—it’s just never occurred to him, and no partners have brought it up before.

💚 That said. When you bring up the idea of overstimulation? Alex is skeptical as all hell.

💚 He’s down to try anything once, but he’s pretty solidly convinced he’ll hate it. Why would anybody want that, anyway? It sounds uncomfortable.

💚 But when you’re on your knees licking the cum off his cock and not giving him a break, something in him snaps.

💚 His cock is softening and you’re rolling it across your tounge, and the too-much pleasure is writhing in his abdomen and dragging shivers down his spine. A flush has crawled all the way down to his chest, and tears are springing into the corners of his eyes, but he can’t ask you to stop.

💚 Overstim makes him a complete wreck. Babbling, incoherent, and desperate. Ever since that night, when you have the time, you’ll tie him up and make him cum until his orgasms are dry 😇

🛻 what's an unconventional place they've had sex in?

💚 Despite his bravado in conversation, when the rubber meets the road Alex is shy.

💚 Having sex anywhere but in a bedroom behind a locked door makes him nervous.

💚 There was one time that he just couldn’t help himself. You’d been at the bathhouse together, relaxing and kissing chastely. Nothing too disrespectful.

💚 But then you got cheeky and decided to grind against him. You just couldn’t help yourself. The steam and the water and his beautifully flushed face were overwhelming.

💚 At first he was nervous, groaning about how you couldn’t do it there because someone could walk in between hot, sloppy kisses.

💚 And let’s be real. Alex couldn’t handle it. His cock was throbbing in his swimsuit and your lips were bitten so perfectly red he had to have you right then and there.

💚 He came way too fast out of nerves, the jumpy anxious energy in his muscles made it impossible to hold back.

💚 Don’t worry though, you got to finish. He boosted you onto the ledge of the pool and used that talented mouth of his to punish you for teasing him 😇

Hehehe glad to see you Beets hope you liked it I know Alex is your boy lately~ 💖💞

#stardew valley #writing #sdv #stardew valley headcanons #stardew valley alex #n.sfw //#stardew valley imagines #stardew valley fanfic #sdv fanfic #headcanon #alex stardew valley #alex sdv #stardew valley bachelors

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hom3landr · 11 days

Note

"just lie to me, okay? just this once."

Necessary Lies

CW - Major Character Death, descriptions of gore and sickness, ANGST ANGST ANGST

Homelander’s intentions had been pure when he arranged to dose you with Compound V. He’s reminded by a friend that’s how the road to hell is paved

You aren’t getting better.

Homelander’s stomach turns.

You aren’t getting better.

He’d done everything right. The whole process was done under the supervision of all of Vought’s best doctors and scientists. Even as you screamed and begged, he’d been confident that any complications could be swiftly dealt with. Sure, you’d been an adult when the V had been introduced into your system but you are strong. You have to be. You have to.

He watches you in your room. It doesn’t seem right for you to be surrounded by so much blank white. You are color and light but even you can’t withstand the way the awful room dims your soul. Maybe if you could see the sun you’d get better. But the doctors insist you are too fragile to handle any environment except the sterile one you are contained in.

He bites his lip anxiously as you continue to hack up blood, the bright crimson automatically drawing the eye. His instincts tell him to scan you, to watch as the V twists your DNA and transforms you into something greater.

I told you not to get your hopes up. You tend to have a less than stellar track record when it comes to mud people.

He shakes his head and tries to ignore the little voice in his ear. He’s wrong this time. It’s a hiccup that’s all. You’re strong. You are.

The voice is blocked out but not by his own efforts. A horrible cry leaves your lips as your bones crack and shift under your skin. More red spews on the floor. He winces at the wet splat as a chunk of something hits the floor.

That was juicy. Wanna bet that was a lung?

Homelander tastes iron as he splits his own lip. It feels like it’s your blood he’s tasting. It’s your blood he’s spilt.

That one was a little mean, I admit. But buck up Bucko, this is what you signed up for. Maybe you’ll listen to me next time.

He’s done this before. Why the fuck were you the one with complications?

“There’s a good reason Vought doesn’t do it.”

That’s what he told Madelyn that fateful night.

He’d killed her too

He steps to the side as a squad of sour smelling scientists rush in to stabilize you. But what can they do? What can they do now that the only outcome is for the poison to run its course? He vividly fantasizes about popping each one’s head like a ripe melon as punishment for not fixing this. It doesn’t make him feel better.

Please

He begs the voice in his head.

Just lie to me, okay? Just this once.

The once dependable steady rhythm of your heartbeat is dangerously erratic.

You smell like death.

Please!

He worries the cut on his lip with his tongue. It feels strange to have a wound. The scientists flutter around you nervously. They know you’re a lost cause but Homelander’s icy gaze compels them to at least pretend to be helpful. Their terror burns his nose. He decides to make their demise slow.

No can do Buddy, you know that’s not what I’m here for. I’m the only one who’ll never lie to you.

Your heartbeat grows fainter. Your breaths rattle.

One of the scientists pisses himself.

Please…

You turn your head and despite your eyes meeting his, he knows you can’t see him. You wouldn’t be able to even without the wall in the way. He doesn’t think you can see much of anything anymore.

I told you so. Better go in and say your goodbyes.

I hate you

Aw buddy, I’m the only thing you have left.

Your heart stops and a noise all too terribly familiar leaves your throat. The last noise you’ll ever make. A wail just as wretched leaves his lips.

He didn’t even say goodbye. He let you die in that awful room alone. He wasn’t even holding your hand. You were alone like he was alone all those many years ago. Being poked at like he was.

He vomits bile onto the floor.

You’re gonna need me more than ever now. Better get used to it.

#homelander #homelander x reader #x reader #major character death #Please read the warnings this is sad as fuck #the angstiest thing I’ve ever written #I’m so sorry anon #i went nuclear #angst #mirrorlander #I’m finally in a place where I can start working through prompts

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creamyavocadosoup · 2 months

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𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞

a/n: lowercase intended! been in an anime binge lately and am currently watching horimiya. its great honestly, it makes me feel so mushy bc me when !! but also i can kinda relate. sorry this wasnt proofread! if there are any mistakes lmk ;-;

characters: rtte!hiccup x fem!reader

tags: kinda angsty, unrequited (?) pining, intimate touches and moment (nothing nsfw)

word count: 1.5k

if you missed it, here's part one: can i be her?

the road to recovery was slow, and the mending of hiccup and i's relationship even slower. although i had forgiven him, there was an undeniable shift in how i acted towards him, whether it was intentional or not.

i had felt guilty about it, of course, but i couldn't force myself to go back to the way things were and pretend nothing had happened. even more so when i could tell that hiccup and the other riders picked up on it too.

after that incident however, something else had also changed. as subtle as it was (or tried to be), hiccup had begun doing things out of his own volition. small things like the soil in my garden being damp when i wake up, my medicine cabinets tidied and arranged how i liked it after a nap, or even my hut being spick and span, a still-hot plate of food awaiting me on my bedside table when i wake up.

it was strange to be on the receiving end of such actions. i had gotten used to helping the riders more than i had received it in return. so having hiccup do so much for me just because, induced emotions in me that i'm still quite unsure in how to handle.

today was spent patching up the riders after a grueling training session and a few accidents (mostly snotlout) and we make conversation as they tell me the new things they've discovered when they went adventuring a few days ago.

my huge cut had - thankfully - been steadily healing, the riders taking turns in making sure i wasn't doing tasks i wasn't supposed to. a few weeks since the incident and i could finally start walking around my hut with much, much caution.

taking this opportune moment of reprieve, i'm currently sat at my front porch, admiring the view of the sea and horizon off in the distance. i sipped quietly on my drink while wrapped in a blanket, the birds chirping and soft swaying of the trees my only company.

...that is until strong gusts of wind caused by a familiar midnight black dragon landed on my front yard, along with his ever-familiar rider in tow.

"[name]! i come bearing new entries to my journal, along with snacks of course."

right. ever since my injury, hiccup had made it some sort of tradition to come and talk to me about things he discovered while out on adventures or simply reading up and researching on subjects he thinks would interest me.

he reasoned it as him hoping i wouldn't feel too lonely even though the other riders visiting routinely (which i soon figured out was coordinated by hiccup thanks to a slip of the tongue from tuffnut) had given me plenty of company since then.

hiccup took his seat beside me on the porch swing, making himself comfortable. offering the other half of my blanket and he takes it with a smile, scooting closer to me.

initially, i seemingly wasn't quite receptive of this tradition he had started; lack of responses, barely any indication that i was interested in whatever he was talking about. but the dragon rider hadn't exactly let it affect him whatsoever. he continued coming regularly, and talking enough for the both of us.

"hiccup." i spoke, softly and quite mellow, but it had stopped his rant completely as he turned to look at me.

i raised my head to look back at him, my eyes slowly dragging over his features. sweat beaded faintly across his brows as he also searched my face of any indication of emotion. he gulped, the action quite apparent, "yes?"

"are you doing all this because you feel guilty?" i questioned, my voice devoid of any accusatory tone, yet it made him flinch slightly in his seat. "if you are, then you shouldn't be, because i already forgive you."

he pursed his lips and brows furrowed as he continued to keep his eyes on me, clearly displeased despite my words. i felt a warmth slowly settle on my hand, looking down to find his hand grabbing onto mine.

my heart beat quickened, a soft yet steady heat creeping up onto my cheeks. for a moment, it had felt like we were suspended in time, the universe letting us have this moment that we've needed.

"even if you have forgiven me," he paused, his body turning to me and gripping my hand tighter, "i can't." he whispered, a soft tremble in his voice as i watched his eyes gloss over.

"i'm sorry. i'm so sorry." he almost weeps, his voice crackly and tears turning his eyes glossy. "i shouldn't have talked to you like that. been so - so caught up in my emotion that i just had zero regard for how you were feeling to how i was saying it." his voice shakes slightly, and my heart crumpled at the emotion.

gently setting aside my drink, i reached to hold his hands with both of mine, softly rubbing my thumb along the natural contours of the back of it. my throat felt tight, that same burning feeling in my eyes coming back, but i steeled myself and my voice to be able to say what i needed to.

"hiccup.. i understand, i really do." my voice had felt so fragile, like glass, about to break if more pressure is applied to it. "in the time i've spent by myself these past few weeks, i've come to a certain understanding and acceptance to the situation. and it's okay," i squeezed his hands, "i'm okay."

he subtly shakes his head no, one of his hands breaking free from mine and drifting to my wounded abdomen, past the hem and underneath my shirt. hiccup was quiet but his touch spoke more than his words tried to convey. my breath hitched at the action as he continued with his ministrations, yet his expression more spaced-out. i'm not sure what it was exactly, but i could tell he was heavily contemplating something in his head.

despite the gauze barrier, i could feel the heat of him emanating through it. it allowed that familiar warmth to bloom in my chest once again, the same warmth that only he seems to be the cause of. it had felt entirely too intimate to consider it as something friends do which only raised so many more questions and confusion in my head.

this wasn't normal for friends, right? is this something he normally does with the others?

i gulped down the lump in my throat, the thought of him doing the same thing to a certain blonde-haired viking setting an uncomfortable feeling in my gut.

before i could voice out any of my thoughts however, my eyes widened and cheeks warmed considerably once i felt his touch travel to my cheek. it was soft, almost feather-like, and comforting. his eyes glowed beautifully, the orange sunset reflecting onto his green eyes, effectively enchanting me with how beautiful it looked.

he kept his eyes on me, seemingly waiting on a sign on how i felt about the current predicament. seeing no protests from me, he continued on, now essentially cupping my face with both of his hands, his piercing eyes never leaving my face, flitting between my eyes and lips.

"hiccup..."

"hiccup!" a familiar voice cut through the silence and the trees, dispelling the intimate moment in an instant. i hurriedly moved away from his clutches, picking up my forgotten drink, as hiccup nervously fixes his hair and clothes.

astrid appears on the path in front of my hut, lax features and usual demeanor indicating that she didn't see whatever just happened between hiccup and i. "there you are. figured you would be here." she spoke, walking closer towards my porch.

hiccup laughed, notably a little more breathless than when he normally is, yet astrid doesn't bat an eye or pick up on it. admittedly, i spaced out as she rambled on, the scene before still playing over and over in my head.

hiccup's soft touches was still practically branded onto my skin, with how i could still feel the heat of his touch despite him being on the other side of the seat we were on. his actions had only made me more confused, swirling thoughts trying to reason why he did what he did yet none of them made sense.

what was that? was he...

i shook away the thoughts as i come back to consciousness back in time. "[name], i hope you don't mind that i'll be taking this guy with me for a little bit. i need his help on a few things regarding training." she spoke.

i nodded, plastering a small smile on my face but i turn to look at hiccup, silently torn on wanting him to go or letting him leave. his gaze was on me, searching my face but perhaps my features weren't translating my desire well, because he turns to astrid and smiles, "we can go, we were just finishing up anyways."

my heart cracks just a tiny bit, that same feeling that i felt a few weeks ago leaking through the cracks of my resolve little by little. but i force the smile back on my face, standing up to bring my drink back inside, the atmosphere now leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

they gather their things and leave side-by-side, and i also turn and huddle back into my hut, missing the longing look hiccup held to my disappearing figure.

DO NOT REPOST MY CONTENT ANYWHERE! i would love to hear any and all thoughts. mwah! have a great day!

quick access to my library.

#ˋ°•*⁀➷ books #ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ everything nice #hiccup x you #hiccuphaddock #httyd angst #httyd #hiccup x reader #finally this is out of my drafts #so sorry for the long wait ;-;#i've been very busy #mwa #hehe

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kakiastro · 1 year

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How to read your birth chart in a fun way

This is mostly for newbies and beginners

When I first started learning astrology, i joined a lot of Facebook groups & I’ll never forget someone breaking this method down in a post.

I unfortunately can’t remember their name cause it’s been years now but this method always stuck with me; so thank you to that person

I hope it can help someone else out like how it did for me

Car and Road Trip Learning Method

- birth chart is the road trip

- rising/ascendant is the the car model

-chart ruler(ascendant sign planet ruler) is the driver of the car

-sun is the car color

-moon is how you’re feeling about this road trip

-mercury is what you listen to on the radio and what you talk about while on the trip

- Venus is the relaxing and lovely places you’re going to visit

-Mars is the exciting and risk taking things you’re going to do

-Jupiter is the where you’re going to learn new things that shapes your perspective on life

-Saturn is where you might have some hiccups and obstacles but you’ll figure it out and will be fine.

-Uranus is the things you weren’t expecting to happen on this trip and it either made it better or worse

-Pluto is where the most intense but life changing things happened on this trip

-South Node is who you were before this trip and your current outlook on life

-North Node is the overall lessons you learned while on this trip that will shape you for the rest of your life. It’s who you’ve become after this trip

The houses are the different types of road trips you’ll be going on

1h-self discovery or solo road trip; may have planned this road trip on the fly

2h- fancy road trip that might’ve been costly

3h- road trip with sibling and best friends

4h- tracing your roots or going back to your hometown road trip; also family road trip

5h- fun or romantic road trip. Road-trip with your kid(s)

6h-health road trip; needing to get away from people to clear your head. Also could be a co workers trip

7h- close friends or business trip with co business partner. This is romantic getaway with your spouse.

8h-private road trip, you didn’t tell anyone where you were going lol

9h- educational road trip like to the museum

10h- business cooperation trip, a seminar type trip

11h-no destination, you’re just traveling lol, may go with large group of friends

12h- going to a very foreign land; somewhere overseas. Could be spiritual or creative trip

#astrology community #astrology #knowledge #love astrology #astrology birth chart #beginners #astro observations

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instarsandcrime · 2 months

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Feathers On a Hearth

Did I just write a 2,000+ word Huskerdust snz fic because I have no impulse control? The answer may not surprise you. Hope you enjoy!

Edit: Someone asked for a follow-up and well. Part 2 I guess!

“A day off?” Angel Dust slapped his upper hands on the counter, lower firm on his hips. “Whaddya mean a day off?!”

“My, my! Such a reaction!” The Radio Demon hummed from behind the bar, “I thought you’d be pleased that Husk asked for some relaxation time.”

“Of course I’m happy! That’s the problem!” The other fumed, picking nervously at the hem of a glove. “The bastard never takes his fifteen, let alone twenty four hours to himself. Even after the whole extermination shit went down and the hotel’s name was back up in lights, he opened up shop the next day like nothin’ happened!”

“Hm.” The Overlord’s fingers stilled above a wine glass, drifting into a trance. From a distant white fuzz of radio that traveled with the hotelier, Angel Dust heard bits and pieces of unknown voices, clipped nonsense like jagged edges of glass against a chalkboard.

Unknown help NEEDED uSefuL For meat.

“Alastor?” Angel Dust finally piped up, and his host seemed finished ruminating on the world’s most ominously displayed conclusion.

“I would love to uphold Husker's wishes for privacy. However, if it satiates your curiosity in any way, feel free to convince him otherwise.” Alastor snapped his fingers, and a door somewhere above unlocked with a sharp click, "The poor thing hasn’t come out of his room all day, and I admit it’s a bit disquieting to not have our bartender at the ready. Always waiting with a refreshing drink and a silver tongue...”

Pencil thin brows furrowed. Okay. Okay, fine. Either fuck over Husk’s boundaries– not a fan of goin’ down that road again– or risk it and make sure he’s okay. Regardless.

“Is this some kinda sick way of showin’ that you care about him?” Angel Dust squinted suspiciously.

A howling laughter cut the air like a knife. “O-oh! Ohohoh my! Th-that– ahaha– H-heavens, no!” Alastor wheezed out. “I want to see how badly this trainwreck goes! It's been quite a show to watch such a beloved actor even think about rubbing elbows with a washed up, wrung out has-been like Husker!”

Angel's face twisted, blushing scarlet with anger at a cackling studio audience that filled the bar. He couldn't help it-- whatever cadence, whatever tone, he'd heard the same exact laugh plenty of times with every tug of a chain. “I don’t get what Charlie sees in a creepy, sadistic fucker like you. But y’know what? I hope you get to the top. I hope you get everythin’ you want. Because when you look down from your sad, dinky little radio tower, no one is gonna be there to watch.”

Flashing his last two arms just to flip Alastor off with his entire being, Angel Dust spun on his heel to storm up the steps. And all too faintly, he heard one last little hiccup of a broadcast. He stopped at the haunting swell of violins, nearly tugged backwards by the sobbing of a woman reaching out to embrace her savior.

Thank you.

The tapping of Alastor’s staff and his hushed string of curses were nothing compared to the smug smirk that nearly split Angel’s face.

“Hey Whiskers, it’s me!” A knock echoed on Husk’s freshly crafted door, pentacle etchings still bonded to the knotted wood.

His calls were only met with silence.

“C’mon, I ain’t gonna try anything. We’re past all that and you know it.”

The silence persisted. A louder knock. Shit. Alastor was definitely not the type to play a prank, and Husk definitely wasn’t the type to stay quiet forever.

“You okay? You ain’t bleedin’ out on the carpet, right?” He worried his bottom lip, running a thumb against sore knuckles. “...Husker?”

“I heard you the first time.” A gruff voice answered. Oh thank fuck.

“Then what're ya waitin' for? Let a gal in, would ya?”

“Can't.”

“Alright, fine. Then I'll do it myself.”

“No!” A tornado warning seemed to go off the second the doorknob was even slightly turned. All sorts of bits and bobs were haphazardly knocked about in a cacophony of noise. Somewhere along the way the chaos settled for a brief moment, ragged breaths building and building until--

"Ht'shhuh! Hut'CHNX! HHHT'CHNXT'uh!" The sound of shattered glass pierced the air, and Angel Dust nearly jumped in place at the sharp yelp that followed.

"Hey, what the Hell!?"

“I'm okay, don’t-- kaff kaff! don't move. I’ll come to you.” Husk croaked. The door finally crept open and– oh.

“Oh. Oh, wow.” The spider whistled at the sad sight before him. “Ya look like shit.”

Or at least, the little bits that poked out. The bartender’s bedsheets were wrapped around him like a patchwork cocoon, making every second standing a heavy, tangled effort for the shivering bundle. Underneath the makeshift hood that covered his head, the fur on his face was matted with sweat, a single claw pressed just below a flushed nose. His eyes were squinting through a bleary fog, as if it took his entire being just to concentrate.

“Nice t’ see you too. Listen. I’m obviously sick, so if you need somethin’ from me just grab it and go.”

Okay, rude. This was not the kind of hot mess Husk usually was-- at least, not six months into their trauma bond. And strange enough, his room was no different. Card collections, casino chips, beer bottles, all the little things were flung every which way. But the most bizarre was a trash can haphazardly stuffed to the brim with red and black feathers, peppered by wads of clawed-through tissues.

“Uhhhh.” Angel Dust's brow furrowed at the sea of half-broken junk, “I don’t need nothin’, but I’m pretty sure if I did then I'd need to ask a gravedigger first.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake– then what do you want?!” Husk snapped. Angel stilled, surging through ten different emotions at once. But the sickly demon only landed on one, eyes wide with overflowing guilt. He hunched low, retreating towards his bed with wobbling steps. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to– I. I’m just not feelin’ right. Snf! But I'll be better by t-tuhh-tomorrow. Jus’…just forget thihhh-this ever…ever ha-happened.”

Angel Dust watched on in disbelief, mouth slightly agape. Maybe Charlie, Princess of Friendship, could have calmly negotiated with the bartender. Maybe she could have sung a song to magically solve a lesson of the day. Maybe she could have shown love and kindness and all the redemption bullshit that he'd come to respect. But Angel Dust was not Charlie. Angel Dust was Angel Dust. So, with all the love and kindness in his heart, the spider stepped a foot on the blankets and yanked his friend backwards. And caught off guard, Husk released the claw that kept a worrying tickle at bay.

"Hhhuhh...huh! Hup'shhhoo! Hup'SSHHHUH! Sh-shihhh-shihht nohhh-not agaaaiihhhh…Heh! HETCHHH'HOO!" A pair of wings involuntarily flapped at the small fit, sending a small firework of feathers into the air. Patchy, bare spots that once balanced the owlcat sent him stumbling on the ever-tilting floorboards. And suddenly, body moving before his mind could, Angel Dust hurriedly caught the other in a low dip. Tangled under his partner's shadow, Husk’s red-tipped ears folded until they practically pressed against his skull.

“Snff! Uh. Thanks.” He swallowed.

“No problem.” Angel echoed, stopping to blow a feather from his mussed bangs.

“...You can let go now.”

“If I do, are ya goin' to fall before you even touch the bed?”

Husk's pause lasted a second too long.

“That's what I thought. Now, I’m gonna lead with your shoulder and your waist. And it'll just be touch and nothin' else, cross my heart.”

“Hey, you– kaff! offered to help me out. If there’s an issue that you’re lookin’ for, I couldn’t see one if I tried.” The other mumbled, unsure if he could get any redder. “But thanks for the heads up, Ange. I mean it.”

Gently the spider guided him with four sturdy arms, the third pair growing to snatch up his shed blankets along the way. Looking down, Angel’s heart suddenly squeezed as the cat in his hold immediately fought sleep at the touch, head lolling against his chest.

“Soooo. You can molt?” Angel squeezed his shoulder playfully.

“...Mm. Sucks, but I always push– snff! Ugh, push through it.” Husk grumbled, scrubbing his eye with a paw to force himself awake. Looking anywhere but at his helper.

“Oh, please! You know I ain’t stoppin’ here, right? I’ve fucked a lotta demons with wings and I gotta say, those bad boys ain't gonna pity ya anytime soon. 'Specially paired with that cold've yours.” He pushed Husk onto the mattress, ignoring the soft grunt that followed. “Now lay down.”

Finally relenting, his patient rolled onto his stomach, pressing a pillow over his head to muffle his thoughts for two entire seconds– or at least while his back and nose had stopped itching something awful. Because without realizing it a warm smolder had filled his chest, sparked at the onslaught of attention. It was the cold. It was just the cold. It was not the sheer audacity of being needy for once in his miserable life. Goddamnit, when had he suddenly become so needy?

“Good boy.” A voice whispered gently, breath hot against his bare back. Yep, that's nausea. Definitely nausea and nothing else. Husk quickly stomped out the growing flame before it could spread any further. Unfortunately, a different sensation crawled up his nose, and he pressed the feather-stuffed fabric against his muzzle. Desperate to not deal any more damage. He was supposed to be the hotel’s bartender. He was supposed to be Angel Dust's bartender. It was his job to look out for the struggling souls around him, not the other way arou--

"Huh! Hhhhuuhhh...F-fuck."

"Need help?"

“Wh-whuhh— Snff! What?” Craning his head, the tip of a discarded feather tickled the rim of his nostrils, and whatever pained torture Husk would have had to grin and bear was swapped with another.

"HUP'CHOO! HUT'CHHHOO! Hhhuhhh...hhhuh!...hah hhahhhhHTCH'HUH! Hhhhhuuhhh.......hhhuhh.....hguhh...snff! Ow." Between ragged gulps for air, he heard the thump of books and bottles fall from the high shelves above. He didn't even want to look at the state of his room right now. Instead he blindly grabbed for a tissue, sharp trumpeting blows intertwined with flustered apologies.

He regretted even thinking about opening his eyes. He would have rather sneezed himself into a second death than deal with the disaster that regularly re-disorganized itself. But vision clearing, he blinked back shock as Angel Dust already had a mop in hand, cleaning supplies at the ready. Steam curled against the cat demon’s cheek, and he turned to see a rag was already soaking on the nightstand. Mystified, the bartender watched as his patron stop mid-task to slide it forward, a welcoming smile on his face. The bowl seemed to move in an oddly nostalgic way. Like the film strip of a memory that didn’t quite catch the light.

Or the offer of a refreshing drink and a silver tongue.

"...This is stupid." Husk finally broke the silence.

"Ugh, I know right? The books are no big deal, but whisky's gonna be a bitch to get outta the carpet. I'll have to grab Niffty before it stains--"

"No. I mean, you don't need t’ clean up after me. I...I-I can do it myself." Husk mumbled, pushing himself upright– or rather, made a daring attempt before collapsing back on the mattress.

Angel Dust stared. Really stared. Throwing aside the handle in his palm, he rested two right hands on his hip. “Husk. Sugar. Sweetheart. Babydoll. You dragged me kickin’ and screamin’ outta bad days plenty of times. What's wrong with me doin’ the same for you?”

“Oh c’mon, we both know that I can do all this bullshit myself. Cleanin’ my room. Washin’ my wings. Why do you need t’ be my personal assistant for the day when you're so busy dealin’ with the studio! 'Specially with Him bitchin’ and moanin’ and runnin' you ragged! I see you stumble through the door at three in the morning, clutching your stomach like it got whittled to nothin’! He orders you around like a goddamn dog on a leash, and then you come home to what? Take care of another asshole like me? Why should some shitty ex-overlord get the same kinda treatment?”

--rubbing elbows with a washed up, wrung out has-been--

Oh.

Oh that motherfucker.

"You--" Angel Dust felt his blood boil, chasing away the ghost of radio static that crawled under his skin. “Are you fuckin' kidding me?!”

Husk jolted, fur puffing in surprise as Anthony pulled him onto his lap. “Stop bein' a dumbass! You deserve this. You deserve to be pampered. If ya think I’m here because I feel pressured and not because you’re actually– oh I dunno, worth bein’ cared for– then let me make things crystal fuckin’ clear for you.”

“Kid–” Overgrown pleas were cut at the stem, body going limp as a steaming cloth trailed down bone dry wings. And as dark thoughts began to drift, the spider rested his chin on the crook of Husk’s neck. One by one he plucked every warped thought with every warped feather.

"You ain't forcin' me to do nothin'. You ain't payin' me as a client. You ain't no toxic ex. And you definitely ain't like Valentino. So get it through your thick skull-- I don't hang around ya 'cause I need to." Cupping a flushed cheek for good measure, Anthony ever so slightly tilted a hypnotized gaze his way. "I do it because I want to."

Faces flushed and heavy-lidded with bliss, the actor forgot himself, bathing in the silence. The peace. The safe haven he called Husk.

The other, very predictably, pulled back to sneeze.

Husk buried his muzzle in a tissue before he could give his drinking buddy-- friend-- partner-- whoever the fuck was in front of him at this point in time an impromptu shower.

"'CHNX! CHNXT'hhhooo...hhhuh! HUH'ASHHHOO!" He cautiously peeked open an eye, blinking back shock when his wings didn't snap open. Instead they continued to lay there, well-washed and preened to perfection. So with a shaky breath he lit the spark in his chest, allowing it to burn gently through his ribcage like it was a small, rusty hearth. Swallowing down a soft purr before it could escape.

"Wait, wait, wait." Yanked back to reality Angel Dust grabbed the cat demon’s shoulder to spin him around, looking him dead in the eye. "Am I crazy, or do you sneeze in triples every time? That’s. Adorable."

"Oh shuuhhh…hhuh!" A blur of a black and red feather swept under his prickling nostrils, fanged smirk kissing the base of downy barbs between lithe fingers.

"Hhhhuh! You s-suhhnofa-a-aahh!...hhhah…” Husk held his breath like his afterlife depended on it, desperately scrubbing at his muzzle to quell the angry itch. Startling when Angel’s lips pecked the tip of his raw nose.

Shit.

“F-fuhhhcking ch-ch-chhheater– Hhhept'choo!" Husk doubled over into the nearly-shredded tissue.

"Oh my goodness, bless you!" The spider demon cooed teasingly. "One."

"Sh-shuhhht…sh-shu-shut the fuck uhhp-- HUP'CHHH’hhoo!"

"Yeesh! That was a big one. Two."

"Guuuuhhh...g-gonna kihh-kill youhhhuuhhh-hhuh-huh-hah! HATCH'HHHOO!"

"Hah! I knew it! Holy shit, that’s so cute!" Angel Dust gushed through bouts of uncontrollable laughter-- rudely interrupted when a pillow smacked him square in the face.

#snz #snz fic #ha//zb//in//ho//tel//#hu//sker//dust #an/gel/du/st #hu/sk

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mooodyblue · 3 months

Note

Hiiii I’m having a hard time with anxiety tonight bc I have emetephobia (fear of vomit) and I’m feeling nauseous

Could I request cg!e with little!reader who has emetephobia a and she’s REALLY NAUSEOUS so she’s losing her mind with fear and anxiety so bad she can’t stop shaking, she wants to curl in a ball and daddy really is trying yo comfort her?

I hope I gave you enough detail !!! Thank you so much ❤️❤️❤️

a/n: sorry this took me forever to write. ty for the request!

pairing: elvis x little!gn!reader

wc: 891

warnings: vomit mention, no actual vomiting involved

-> masterlist

elvis knew he messed up the moment he rented out a ranch too far from graceland, especially when he was the one doing the driving and you would be in the passenger seat. you didn't do well with long car rides, he learned that the hard way. but his stubborn self rented it out not knowing how far it was. he got it just for the two of you, and now he didn't even know if you'd make it there.

the reality of it all didn't hit him until thirty minutes in to the drive. he glanced over at you waking up from your nap, your arms stretching over your head as you glanced out the window. "still not there?" you asked with a pout on your face.

"no, baby. we still got a bit of time to go." he sighed. "you want a snack? how 'bout some juice?"

"no, i'm okay." you shook your head, facing forward and watching the clouds from the windshield.

some time when by when you began to get antsy, tired of sitting in the same seat for so long. you knew you sometimes got motion sickness, but always tried to take something beforehand to stop it. you turned your head to look at elvis, already feeling a little woozy. "did you bring my pills?"

he bit his lip nervously before giving you a quick glance then back at the road, "no, baby. i'm sorry. i completely forgot."

"oh. okay." you replied nervously. "that's okay."

of course, it wasn't okay. the more he drove, the more you felt yourself begin to get nervous. your body felt weird, there was the queasiness in your stomach, yet your heart felt like it was going at a million beats per hour. you wanted the feeling to pass so badly. your legs bounced up and down nervously, picking at your nails and trying to not think about the odd sensation in your stomach.

elvis noticed, glancing at you. "what's going on? you alright? need me to pull over?"

you wanted to say yes, yes, yes. but you didn't want to go off schedule if elvis had one. "baby, talk to me." he said, interrupting your thoughts and setting a hand on your knee.

"i don't feel good, daddy. i-i don't wanna get sick. i don't...." your eyes started welling up with tears. "don't wanna puke, daddy. i don't wanna."

his heart dropped, unsure of what to do. he knew how you got whenever you felt sick. anytime he, or anyone he knew was about to get sick—they'd be out of the house or he'd make sure you were in the other room. even then, he knew you couldn't stop thinking about the fact someone near you was still getting sick despite being away from it all.

it was worse when it was you. you can't escape from yourself.

"alright, alright. take a deep breath, honey." he said softly, his hand moving to rub at your back. "we'll figure this out. i'm gonna pull over at this lil' gas station and let you take a breather."

you were in tears, hiccuping and fighting off that awful urge to puke—your hands shaking and body trembling as you tried to let that feeling pass. you shook your hands at your sides to try and soothe yourself as elvis pulled into the parking lot, quickly getting out and heading over to your side. he knealt down as he opened the passenger door, taking your hands. "baby, hey. look at me." he looked right into your eyes, "i know you don't wanna get sick. if you need to, then just do it. it's scary, i know. but sometimes your body can't control it."

you let out a soft cry, squeezing at his hands. "i don't wanna."

"i know, baby. god, i know." his tone was sympathetic, doing his best to soothe you in the best way he can. "you wanna sit for a minute and let it pass? i'll go inside and see if they got somethin' for your poor lil' tummy."

you really didn't want him to go, but you took it like a champ and nodded, sniffling and sitting in the car with your stomach churning and head pounding. elvis returned as quickly as he could, hopping back into the driver seat and taking out a couple pills for you. "here," he opened your hand and dumped them into your palm. "these outta make you feel a little better, we can sit here till you feel comfortable again. that sounds alright?" he asked, handing you a tiny juice pouch.

his heart truly ached for you, he hated seeing you like this and always wished he could take that fear away from you, but he understood it was just something you couldn't control or get over.

he smiled as you took the two pills, finishing off your juice and nodding. "thank you, daddy. 'm sorry." you said shakily, wiping at your eyes.

"honey, don't even be sorry." he frowned. "i'm the dummy who forgot your pills. i bought a few extra just in case those wear off. you gonna be okay, lil'?"

"can we wait a little longer before you start drivin' again?" you nervously asked.

he gave you a soft smile, petting at your hair. "of course, sweetheart. of course."

#divider by saradika #elvis x reader

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oddsconvert · 9 months

Text

Shattered #9 - It's Cruel To be Kind

Previous / Masterlist / Next

Apologies for the wait!!! 🥺❤️

CW: Whumpee thinks Caretaker is new master/whumper, vampire caretaker, bloodbag whumpee, reference to vampire whumper/previous abuse/captivity, bloodbag whumpee, recovery whump, aftermath of nightmare, emotional breakdown/self doubt (August going through it!!!) [Pls lemme know if I missed any! 🫶]

---

The wind is swept from August’s sails. It feels as though he’s adrift in the open ocean. Lost at sea with no waves or wind to carry him to shore. A storm rages overhead, lightning splitting through the pitch-black sky, dark clouds rolling in. There’s an island on the horizon, a glimmer of hope. It calls August - it beckons him. And he tries with all his might to paddle there, waiting for the gust of gaia’s wind to propel him towards salvation.

It never comes. The ferocious ocean waves sway August further away. Totally stranded and utterly helpless.

August skulks out of Declan’s bedroom in bruised defeat. The desperate screams for mercy and freedom fade until they’re nothing but a distant echo, swallowed up by the silence of the house. This isn’t working. This isn’t fair. They’re getting nowhere. The road they are paving for the human’s recovery is nothing more than them blindly stumbling in the dark and feeling their way around, and it’s to Declan’s detriment. At his expense. Torturing the already tortured soul.

It’s cruel, August thinks. He took an oath when he devoted his life to medicine; he swore to alleviate pain and suffering, to do no harm, and uphold ethical practices. This cannot be ethical. Surely. What he’s doing feels downright criminal and inhumane. Is it worth the healing of Declan’s body only to terrorise his mind? Leaving him in perpetual anguish and dazing confusion day in and day out. Keeping him hidden and isolated far away from his loved ones.

August slides his back down the wall, head buried in his hands. He can still hear Declan’s shrill cries ringing in his ears, piercing through his heart. Honestly? He always hears them. Day and night. Since that first day Declan woke up and nearly burst his eardrums with his terrified screams. August’s conscience won’t let him forget them, it’s harrowing.

Because Declan is scared half to death of August. The screams are because of him.

Home might just be the best medicine for Declan. That is the true cure August is searching for. Declan may not be held here with ropes and chains or kept under the lull of persuasion; but he is wholly and unwillingly dependent on August for his survival. Declan has no choice now but to rely on the vampire for his entire humanity - he’s too weak to fend for himself, let alone chase his own heart's desire. He is reliant on the vampire for his nourishment, for his health, safety and protection and even his communication. His whole way of life. The only way Declan can exercise his own free will, is if August helps him to.

And well…Declan keeps asking for home. Who is August to deny him that?

“He’s going to try some sleep again,” Lucas whispers across the hallway, careful to slowly and gently pull the bedroom door to. No loud or sudden noises. They’ve learned that the hard way. “I’ve promised him we’ll leave him to it for tonight. He just needs space to breathe.”

And then what? Declan jolts awake an hour later in floods of tears and hiccuping sobs again? Do they ignore it this time? Leave him be and let him cry it out? Or send Lucas back in…he likes Lucas. August knows he shouldn’t be, but he’s so envious of that. He’d never harm a hair on Declan’s head, he’s fought tooth and nail to save him. Why must he be branded the bad guy?

August knows the answer. That doesn’t make it any easier.

“I have never seen fear like that in my life,” Lucas slumps beside August on the floor, a far-away look on his face like he’s just seen a ghost. He stares blankly, dead ahead, at the floral wallpaper across from him, and shakes his head in disbelief, “What the hell do you put a man through to make him scream in his sleep?”

Hell. Exactly that. That’s what you put him through. You turn him into a zombie, living dead. A body forced to live when its mind is melted to a puddle. You send him to tango with death and live to tell the tale. Hurt him until he can’t feel it, and even then still hurt him some more. It’s impossible to comprehend the horrors Declan suffered, or fathom why or how someone could do that to another living, breathing being. But it happened, and August can’t change that no matter how hard he tries.

“Lucas? Do you think we’re doing the right thing?”

It’s a question that’s been rattling inside August’s skull for a while now. Guilt and sympathy fighting each other to the death. He only ever wanted to help Declan back on his feet, bring him completely back to himself and, help deliver him home all in one piece. August could never live with himself if Declan went home to his family, lifeless and comatose. They may as well have sent him with his casket too. And he can’t send him back as he is now; the tattered man weeping himself into another dread-fueled nightmare.

Or can he? Should he?

“Without a doubt in my mind,” Lucas asserts, certain as can be. He says it with his entire chest, and he seems almost offended by the question. He straightens himself from his slouched slump on the floor, sitting up against the wall and crossing his legs underneath him, “What makes you ask that?”

August opens his mouth, but no words come out. His jaw clicks shut before he can even dare try. If he says it, it makes it all real, doesn’t it? Every worry springs into existence, everything he’s frightened of is brought to life. August will have to face all his mistakes and misdeeds, every foolish mis-step he’s taken in Declan’s care. But he has to own up to it sooner or later. Face the music. So he can do what’s right by Declan.

“I fear… I fear we’re doing more harm than good to the boy.”

“August-”

“W-What if I’m getting this all wrong?” August falters, his voice thick with shameful, threatening tears. As Lucas shuffles closer to console him, August crumbles even more into the floor and wishes the ground would swallow him whole. “What - What if we’re hurting him, and sure maybe not hurting him like that vile monster who stole him but... in a different way?”

Declan still thinks and feels like a prisoner. He was trapped in Vince’s basement, and then he was trapped in his mind, his body and now trapped all over again. This time as August’s patient, stuck helpless in bed.

But Lucas shakes his head passionately, giving a reaffirming squeeze to August’s knee. Lucas is too good to August, too kind and forgiving. It’s more than he could ever deserve in this life or the next. But right now his words of encouragement fall on deaf ears, August needs to be told how it is. And it's plain as day that his presence is damaging Declan, not helping him. Declan is still suffering. He’s supposed to be free and thriving, and he’s still hurting.

“Were it not for you, Declan would have taken his last pained breath that first night you brought him home. Even worse, he could have died a broken shell of a man in that basement, alone and suffering. You revived him. You gave him a second life.”

It doesn’t feel like it. What kind of life is jumping at shadows and cowering behind blankets? Terrified of what’s around the corner. A thousand words trapped in his mind that he could never say.

“I bought him. Like livestock…he thinks he’s my property-”

It’s time to call it a day, and let him give up the fight and lay down his sword.

“He’s just scared, August. He’s so scared, and all alone and horribly confused. He’s been through hell and back. It’s not you.”

“It is me, Lucas,” August disagrees, “It’s what I am.”

A blood-sucking monster that stalks the night looking for its next prey to feed from and drain dry. August has spent his whole life trying to break free from that mould, to run far away from what he’s supposed to be and never look back. Somehow Declan sees right through him, right down to his core. He sees what August refuses and tries to hide from. His own blood, his very nature.

“How could he ever heal at the hands of something he fears the most?” August asks, disgusted with himself. He should rip out his fangs and run outside to bathe in the sun’s agonising rays. It sickens him that he is associated with the brute that did this to Declan. That August’s kind hunt and kill humans for food… for sport. Who could blame Declan for being scared of vampires. August is scared of vampires.

“He deserves better-”

“-Declan deserves you,” Lucas’ tone was clipped, as if his word was final and there was no possible room for discussion. But August had known him so long, he could hear the affection underneath the terse words. “You are the best thing that could have ever happened to him. You were the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Lucas once looked at him the same way Declan looks at him now. With nothing but fear and disdain in his eyes. Backed into the corner like a scared small animal. August remembers the way he felt when they both locked eyes for the first time, terror meeting terror; it felt like he wasn’t worthy of breathing the same oxygen. That he was a monster, and should whittle the stake himself and hand it to Lucas with an apologetic bow.

Has August always mistook help for harm? He must be doomed to repeat the same cycle of pain. Maybe it’s just in his cold-blood. His vile, worthless blood. Vampires hurt humans. That's how the story goes. There’s nothing he can do to escape that fate.

“My friend,” August chokes up, grabbing Lucas’ hands to squeeze in his own, and stroking his thumb over his wrists. “I wronged you. I hurt you. Just like I’m hurting Declan now.”

A thousand apologies could never make up for what he’s done, the hurt he inflicted. Years down the line the shame and regret still plagues him, festers inside him deep down. Over and over he’s told he’s forgiven, more times than there are drops in the ocean. Again, it doesn’t change the fact it happened.

“You saved me,” Lucas gasps in awe, astounded by August’s confession. Something they’d both long agreed was water under the bridge. “ Just like you’re saving Declan. Would you have given up on me?”

“Never.”

“Then why give up on him? When he needs you more than I ever did?”

A fire lights inside of August, determination burns within him. This isn’t throwing in the towel, this is him fighting. Doing what’s right, even if it feels wrong. If it means letting go-

“I’m not giving up on him. I would never give up on him. I want to do what’s best by him.”

“I trust you, August. And I think if you just hold in there, Declan will learn to trust you too. It just needs time.”

Time does heal all wounds, as they say. And maybe Lucas is right. Maybe if they just play the waiting game, Declan could make it through to the other side, unharmed and unafraid. Yet August knows that these aren’t fresh wounds - not anymore - they’ve turned to ugly, withered scars. A permanent mark on the boy’s mind, body and soul. There’s no curing that. But could Declan learn to live with that?

“Tell yourself what you tell him. He’s not a captive. We’re going to take him home, yes?” Lucas quirks an interrogative brow, and August nods miserably in response. Declan is starting to feel like a captive against all intent and promises. “I think if we drop him off in human territory now - lame and pain-riddled, scared of everything that moves - that is what would be cruel. Us looking after him and building him back up for a little bit longer; that’s the mercy he’s begging for. Even if he doesn’t realise that right now.”

“How do I know which path to take?” August whispers with a wince, like the daunting thought threatens to implode inside his mind.

“Humans know so little of vampire persuasion, how it affects the brain and body. He could be stuck like this forever. His family will get half their son back at best. Who knows if his state will deteriorate? If he’ll ever walk or talk again. We can help him, August. You know that we can help him feel human again.”

“I don’t want to cause him any more unnecessary pain,” August laments, “He’s been through enough.”

August was never under any illusion this would be easy. He was prepared to weather the storm from the second he first laid eyes on Declan. Down in that basement; knelt and bound, small and fragile, unreachable and lifeless - drowning in Vince's power. August can help Declan, he’s got him this far already, he’s nearly out of the woods. They could do it, this could work. But at what cost?

“Whatever you decide, I’m with you,” Lucas promises, “Wherever you go, I’ll follow. Always…”

August had saved Lucas before, hadn't he? Perhaps there is still hope. Perhaps he can still save Declan.

---

Thank you to @darkthingshappen for beta-ing this chapter!!!!

Next update will drop on Monday! (7/8) 🫶 Time for a lil flashback to how August and Lucas met... 🤫

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matchalovertrait · 1 month

Text

Dulce was eliminated from the competition. Is this the end of the road for her?

Previous / Next (Transcript under the cut)

(1.) [Sofia] Good thing everyone is okay!

[Mia] Chefs, you guys have 5 minutes left on the clock! Please start plating soon.

(2.) [Alex] When I finished plating, I took a look at my dish and thought about it. I was not really happy with it. Is it missing something?

(3.) [Dulce] I did a taste test when the 5-minute mark hit... but some of the vegetables weren't cooked all the way. I didn't even try the goat yet. There was no time. I put the lid back on and hoped for the best.

(4.) [Andrea] 1 minute left!

[Rubiya] Oh no... I forgot the lemon juice in the jicama dip. I don't think I saw any in the fridge? Maybe I can cut up the limes instead and put them on the side? I see some at the pantry over there.

(5.) [Andrea] Chefs, your time is up. Please come to the judges' table.

(6.) N/A

(7.) [Mia] Chefs, you all look rather down. You don't seem as optimistic as you did in the last round. What's on your mind?

(8.) [Rubiya] Haha, I guess we all had some sort of hiccup.

[Dulce] Sorta, aha.

[Alex] Mhm.

(9.) [Sofia] We've all been there, guys. Even me! Before I made it big, a lot of people didn't believe in me. I know we have to judge your food, but just remember that we all believe in you guys. That's why you're here. Mia saw something in all of you.

(10.) [Alex] Thank you.

[Rubiya] We appreciate the reassurance.

[Dulce] Yeah, thanks.

(11.) [Rubiya] Alright! First, we have Chef Rubiya's appetizer.

[Rubiya] Chefs, I have made you chana masala goat tacos with a hatch green chile salsa and jicama dip.

(12.) [Carlo] The goat is really juicy and flavorful. Also, the jicama dip adds some nice freshness to the tacos.

(13.) [Mia] The only bad thing is that the tortillas got cold and soggy... that's not good, especially because tacos are so reliant on the tortillas.

(14.) [Sofia] But hey, you opting for the limes instead of the lemon juice worked out well for you. I know these tacos aren't exactly authentic, but I've eaten a lot of tacos in Del Sol Valley and many taco stands there have limes instead of lemons. It makes a big difference.

(15.) [Rubiya] Thank you, judges.

[Andrea] Next, we have Chef Alex's appetizer.

[Alex] Chefs, I made for you an egusi soup with cubed goat meat, spiralized jicama, and chana masala.

(16.) [Alex] ...but I did use pumpkin seeds instead of egusi seeds.

[Mia] That is a common substitution! Let me say, this soup is quite rich. Also, you have a git when it comes to plating.

(17.) [Carlo] I have to agree. The cubed goat and spiralized jicama are nice. That shows you have technique. I just think it needs something else to balance out the heartiness of the soup. You went a little too light on the vegetables.

(18.) [Sofia] Yeah, I found some of the flavors a bit overpowering, but at least the goat is cooked all the way. It's tender.

(19.) [Alex] Thank you, judges.

[Andrea] Finally, we have Chef Dulce's entree.

[Dulce] Judges, I made you all a tomato soup with chana masala and chopped hatch green chiles and jicama.

(20.) [Mia] You've done it again, Dulce. You know how to combine flavors perfectly. The cucumber, onion, and bell peppers make this dish so fulfilling.

(21.) [Sofia] Ohh, I wish I could enjoy this more thoroughly. I am not sure if the added red chiles were a good move. I can't really taste the rest of it.

(22.) [Carlo] They're both right. It's delicious, but the spice is too much. The hatch green chiles themselves were fine. The goat and some of the vegetables are kind of hard to chew too.

(23.) [Dulce] Thank you, judges.

[Andrea] Well done, chefs. Please go to the room next door so the judges can have a discussion. We'll see you in a bit.

(24.) [Rubiya] Guys! I served them cold and soggy tacos! I think it's over for me.

[Alex] I'm not feeling good either. I'm not exactly seeking Carlo's approval anymore, but he's still a judge...

(25.) [Dulce] Yeah, it was a brutal round for all of us, huh? I don't know what I was thinking.

[Rubiya] I thought it would get easier with each round, but I'm not so sure anymore.

(26.) [Andrea] Chefs, welcome back to the judges' table. Judges?

(27.) [Mia] This was a difficult decision to make.

[Carlo] Even for me. Everyone made a delicious dish.. but they all came with their major faults.

[Mia] And unfortunately, Dulce is being diced in this round.

#tjolc #tjolc gen 1 #alegria legacy #matchalovertrait #dulce alegria #rubiya jabal #alex marino #andrea mixon #mia d'angelo ramirez #sofia bjergsen #carlo mancini #this isn't a trick this time #brb hiding in my bunker #no but they'll explain in the next and final part #i hated doing this to her :(#and i'll just say rn that it's best for her character-development-wise :(#and her losing doesn't mean that still can't be a stepping stone for her

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dungeonpuppykai · 9 months

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OMG PROUD NO MORE IS THE HOTTEST THING IVE EVER READ PART 2 pls im on my knees

AHHHH! I am so glad you liked it! Since requests aren't open and I cannot do a drabble or oneshot rn, here's a little something I whipped up. Sorry if you had something specific in mind (you can always talk about it 🥴)

Note: This is a part 2-ish headcanon of my ABO oneshot Proud No More.

Warning(s): Dub-con, dark enhanced!Alpha Steve, Alpha!Reader, mean!Steve and dark stuff. Browse at your own discretion. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

After the events of part 1, Y/n remains curled in his legs on the floor after cleaning up and bringing everyone their drinks.

Steve is drinking his as he discusses the sport on the tv with the other Alphas.

She whimpers each time their eyes meet, him sitting on the couch with his legs spread, her snuggled up to them underneath him.

Her whole body is wrapped around his but he is not touching her at all.

His blue eyes are so cold to the puppy eyes she is looking at him with.

He knows it.

He can see it.

Smell it.

She wants it.

Needs him.

Inside.

So, so bad.

Y/n spends the remainder of the time peppering soft apologetic kisses to his knees, legs and thighs, hoping to earn some mercy.

Because Steve is the worst when it came to denying her where she needs him most.

Which is his go to punishment for her besides spanking.

She doesn't even care about the rest of the pack looking at her anymore.

Pleasing him so he would fuck her pussy numb is the only objective on her mind now.

But Steve doesn't falter.

The Alpha Supreme is a master of endurance.

She's so desperate by the time they finally leave the packhouse and walk towards his vintage Camaro.

Her eyes are glossy and lips only slightly pouty (because Steve doesn't tolerate brats and she's trying her best to not piss him off more than she already has) when he orders her to go over to get inside with a brief nod towards the vehicle.

She whines just a little, trying to move his hand (that she's desperately holding tight between both of hers) towards her aching core.

Yes, she forgets all rationality when she's needy.

What is remaining of her bottoms is covered in a wet mess of her slick and his cum.

But one sharp look from Steve has her scurrying away to the backseat, not wanting another punishment.

Whenever Y/n acts out, she loses the passenger Princess privilege.

Because Alpha doesn't like to look at sorry misbehaving puppies.

So she's sniffling and hiccupping as she moves to the back of the car before settling her very sore ass on the seat.

Her head lowers itself as her cheeks burn in humiliation.

He has a way of making her feel so small and pathetic.

Her form feels so tiny against the leather seat right now.

As if she's nothing but a small kicked puppy.

Fuck.

She can not decide if it's the inferior Alpha in her or if she actually feels sorry.

But all her senses are wrenching with regret.

The stunt was completely unnecessary and not worth it at all.

She's quiet and ashamed behind him, pulling her best sorry puppy expression.

The Superior Alpha starts the car and drives it off the porch onto the main road.

It is after a few minutes that her whimpers start to get louder to try and attract his attention.

Needy eyes shoot pleading glances up at the blonde man, knowing that he can feel them through the bond.

Steve continues to ignore her, still irritated by the antic she pulled in the packhouse.

It will take her days of worship and cocksucking to make him happy again.

It always does.

He is very hard to please.

Until then, the Supreme Alpha will, no doubt, be even stricter than usual.

Calling her out on the smallest of slip ups, punishing her for even breathing the wrong way, denying her as much physical touch as possible (she doesn't like to admit it but the puppy in her is always making her pathetically cuddle into one of his limbs).

The cruelest cold shoulder.

It has happened before.

And only Y/n is to blame for it happening again.

Yes, no matter what Steve does to her, she always dry orgasms.

It is just the effect he has on her.

But nothing compares to his touch down there.

Nothing, no orgasm, ever satisfies her more than the one his cock fucks out of her.

And until she can have one of those, she can neither think nor function right.

On days when she has to face denial as a consequence of her own actions, his dick is all she can think about.

Even if she refuses to admit it.

That is where the punishment aspect comes in.

Steve knows how hopeless her body is for his touch.

24/7.

She can lie to herself all she wants.

But Y/n cannot change the effect the bond has on her.

And that's exactly why he uses her everywhere but in her pussy following an episode of her acting out.

The begging, sobbing, kneeling, writhing, hissing, worshipping and trembling for his mercy strokes his ego in the best way.

Nothing makes him harder than all the promises she desperately makes.

All the ungodly things he makes her say.

Because she gets so cock starved during these punishments that she is always willing to do whatever he wants in the end.

Anything at all.

Just so he would fuck her like the puppy that she is.

Fuck her until she has basically lost consciousness.

Only to make her thank him once she comes back up.

Every time.

How her pride gradually breaks down.

Peeling away from her stiff form like the clothes that he makes her strip out of.

There is no better sight or feeling.

To him, that state looks the best on her.

She's so fragile and vulnerable for him then.

It is perfect.

She is perfect.

When she is proud no more.

Compliant and respectful on her knees.

Stroking his ego and kissing his feet.

Steve smirks to himself as he turns a corner, refusing to look at the crying mess of drool and cum hanging by his seat.

He has turned a deaf ear to her pleads.

But his monstrous knot is so worked up by how she's doing her best to remain as silent as possible because she is not allowed to be loud especially when interacting with her Alpha.

Yet, every part of her body is aching for him (he can feel it through their bond) so bad that she cannot stop the begging even if she wants to.

It is impossible for her to sit silently (as is expected of her).

Thus piling more and more punishment for herself.

Steve is not complaining though.

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