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ohproserpine · 3 months

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vi. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, heavy warning for violence and blood, overdose, murder, death, hunting, graphic descriptions of injuries, manipulation, allusion to death, grey morality, references to alcoholism, twisted view of love, gorey descriptions of love, murder, heated scene (making out)

˚୨୧₊♱

You never really liked cars.

The first time you had ridden in one was in the 1930s.

It was after one of your shifts, the wet streets illuminated only by the flickering glow of the rusting lampposts. There you stood, still in your glad rags and wrapped in a coat, the misty drizzle kissing your face. Alastor arrived a few minutes later with a honk of his horn, surprising you with a ride home in his latest purchase—a stunning red car with a sleek roof that gleamed in the dim light, its long, sweeping fenders and rounded body cutting a striking figure against the darkness of the night.

As you got into the car, excitement tingled in your veins, eager to experience the wonders of modern transportation. However, the thrill quickly turned to fear as the speeds increased, and your husband, the ass he was, seemed to enjoy nothing more than pushing the accelerator and hearing your horrified screams. Each time the car accelerated, you found yourself clinging onto him for dear life, the rush of wind slamming against your flushed face, your heart racing in your chest.

Since then, you swore never to get into a car again, preferring the safety of solid ground beneath your feet, the memory of that terrifying ride haunting your thoughts whenever you heard the roar of an engine.

Now, standing outside and shivering in the cold, you watched as a long royal blue limo pulled up before you. The sleek vehicle gleamed under the streetlights, its polished surface reflecting the dim glow of the surrounding city. The doors, adorned with gold accents, were automated and opened up for you, revealing a plush interior illuminated by soft, warm lighting. Small steps extended gracefully from below, inviting you to step inside.

Velvette wasted no time and went in first, her stiletto heels clicking against the polished floor as she settled into one of the luxurious seats. Already engrossed in a phone call, her voice echoed faintly through the open doorway, mingling with the low hum of the engine.

Meanwhile, Vox stood by your side, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the pavement. You knew he was making sure you wouldn't attempt to escape, although the thought barely crossed your mind.

After all, where could you possibly run to now? Any endeavor in that direction would likely prove futile and possibly even fatal. The evidence of your soul being sold was clear, evident in the now black color of your sclera.

"Well," Vox drawled, his voice carrying a subtle edge of impatience as he gestured towards the open limousine door. "Aren't you going to go in?"

You hesitated, biting your lip as you reluctantly took a step back. Vox eyed your actions warily.

"Is it safe?" you found yourself blurting out, your voice trembling with uncertainty.

"Is it safe?" Vox repeated with a scoff, a hint of annoyance flickering in his eyes. "Of course it's safe! I made it!"

He pointed to the VoxTek logo on the car—as though he were a seasoned salesman promoting a product. The metal emblem gleamed under the faint streetlights. Yet, rather than assuring you, the sight of the branding only heightened your unease.

Vox noticed the lack of change in your expression and sighed, deciding to take a different approach. With a faint glimmer of empathy, he motioned toward a nearby building which had a large billboard featuring his face and image.

"See there?" he gestured, his tone adopting a persuasive edge. "See what that billboard says? VoxTek is a symbol of power and security. You're in the safest hands possible. This limousine is equipped with state-of-the-art safety features."

His attempt to reassure you only rang hollow in your ears, and despite his words, a sense of unease continued to gnaw at you. Yet, Vox still persisted, his voice softening as he stepped closer to you. You had to crane your head up to look at him while he stared down at you, his figure casting a shadow over your form.

"I assure you," he pressed, his tone gentler now. "You have nothing to fear."

With no other choice but to comply, you reluctantly stepped forward, your movements stiff and hesitant. Vox held your hand as he guided you towards the waiting limousine. As you entered the luxurious interior, the door closed behind you with a soft click, sealing your fate as the vehicle pulled away from the curb and disappeared into the night.

Outside, the city lights blurred into streaks of color as the limousine sped through the streets. With each passing moment, the distance between you and Mimzy's torn-down lounge grew.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed when the limousine finally came to a stop, the sudden silence jolting you back to reality. As the door opened with a soft hiss, you gazed out to behold the imposing V Tower looming before you.

Its grandeur was undeniable, with its towering floors and striking red windows gleaming in the night. At the very top, a massive antenna sat, reaching towards the sky like a beacon, while a studio sign was plastered along the building's front, featuring red lips nestled within the arches of the middle V, an iconic symbol of the entertainment empire housed within.

Vox and Velvette emerged from the limousine, their presence causing a few loiterers on the street to scurry away in fear.

Oh, how you wished you could do the same.

Inside the car, you hesitated, nerves coiling in your stomach as you fidgeted with your hands. Then, unexpectedly, Vox turned to you, his expression unreadable as he extended his hand.

Surprised, you paused for a moment before accepting his hand, allowing him to guide you down the steps. The chilly night air enveloped you as your feet touched the pavement, the distant sound of the limo's engine fading away as it drove off.

Seconds passed, and Vox still maintained his grip on your hand, his hold firm. Confusion flickered in your mind as you turned to him, noticing the irritation in his gaze as he eyed your wedding ring.

"Is there a problem, mister?" you asked as you followed his gaze to your ring.

Vox's expression remained inscrutable for a moment before he finally responded, his tone cool and detached.

"I suggest you ditch that," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "It's a liability now. Doesn't do any favors for your image, doll."

"But I'm awfully attached. It's…" you began, your voice trailing off as you struggled to find a good enough excuse.

You knew all too well the consequences of revealing your connection, especially in your current vulnerable state. The mere mention of Alastor's name could unravel everything, plunging you deeper into this mess. With two powerful overlords and a soul contract hanging over your head like a guillotine, caution was not just a choice but a necessity.

"It's a symbol of your past life," Vox interjected, his voice cutting through your hesitation.

"And we're leaving that behind now." He extended his hand, the glint of his metal claws catching the dim light, mirroring the uncertainty in your expression. "Hand it over."

With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly slipped the ring off your finger, a pang of loss gripping your heart as you handed it to the overlord. Vox accepted it with a dismissive nod before tucking it into his pocket, his attention already turning back to the looming entrance of the V Tower.

As you entered the building flanked by both Vox and Velvette, you were immediately struck by the brash, modern atmosphere that engulfed you. The walls were painted in bold hues of pink and red, illuminated by the glare of oversized LED screens that flashed with images and advertisements for upcoming events. The floor beneath your feet was polished to a sterile sheen, reflecting the harsh neon lights that bathed the space.

Velvette, with her usual air of haughty superiority, led the way to your room, her steps brisk and impatient. She barely spared you a glance as she gestured towards the metal door that stood before you, its surface cold and unwelcoming.

With a swish of her fingers, she conjured an obtrusively bright star decoration on the wall, reminiscent of celebrity door decorations found in Hollywood, with your name scrawled in cursive on its surface.

"Right, if there's anything you need, you just go down to the lobby and find someone named Shalom," Velvette barked, her tone sharp and impatient, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route.

"Say, is there a chance I could lay my mitts on a radio?" you asked, hoping to grasp onto some semblance of familiarity in this alien environment, your eyes flitting back and forth between the two of them.

But instead of a response, Vox began to buffer, his screen flashing with bright neon glitches, while Velvette's lips curled into a sneer, her expression one of thinly veiled contempt and amusement at your request.

"Guess I'll take that as a no then?" you smiled tensely, your attempt falling flat.

To your surprise, Vox shook his head, and his screen flashed back to his face, the glitches disappearing as quickly as they had come.

The TV demon reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek smartphone. Without a word, he plopped it into your hand, and you turned it over, confusion evident on your face.

"A phone?" you said, flabbergasted, your eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. You blinked in astonishment, the absurdity of the situation not lost on you. You were more surprised by the fact that it came from his pocket. Does he keep random smartphones on him at all times?

"Yes, a phone," Vox confirmed with a smirk, a hint of pride dancing in his eyes. "Consider it a courtesy from VoxTek. No need for a radio when we have such sleek products. This is the future! You don't need old shit from the past. Those radios barely pick up anything worth listening to, just crappy, barely audible broadcasts."

"Oh," you said, the air deflating from your lungs as a pang of disappointment settled in your chest. The phone was a thoughtful gesture, but it wasn't going to fix your longing to speak to Alastor. "Well. I suppose I should thank you."

"Don't mention it," Vox replied casually, his demeanor shifting back to its usual aloofness, his tone devoid of any genuine warmth or concern.

With a resigned sigh, you turned and stepped into your new room. You looked around the décor curiously, taking in the sleek modern furniture and it's peculiar design.

Velvette followed closely behind you, her eyes, framed with smoky eyeshadow, narrowing as she regarded you with disgust. The glint of her perfectly manicured nails caught the harsh overhead lights as she folded her arms across her chest.

"Really? A hooverette dress?" Velvette sneered, each syllable dripping with disdain. "You're like a relic from the '40s. Outdated."

You felt a surge of anger at the comment. Sure, you died near the 1940s, but that didn't mean you were outdated. Before you could even muster a response, Velvette raised a hand, and with a flick of her fingers, she effortlessly transformed the fabric of your dress. It rippled and shifted, morphing before your eyes into a pink silk pajama robe, trimmed with a cream-colored fur. She stepped back, a self-satisfied smirk curling her lips as she admired her handiwork.

"Much better," she declared with a clap. "Listen, you're representing VoxTek now. Even when sleeping, we can't have you looking like a washed-up has-been, can we?"

Swallowing your pride, you forced a tight-lipped nod, suppressing the urge to lash out in defiance.

"Yes, ma'am," you managed to grit out, your voice strained. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," she retorted, her tone sharp and dismissive. "I've got a lot of work to do, and you've got a long way to go before I can get you stage ready."

With that, Velvette stormed out of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor with each brisk step. As she disappeared from view, Vox leaned in, his shadow casting a long silhouette against the wall. He reached for the doorknob, his fingers gliding over the cool metal.

"Goodnight," he murmured softly, his voice barely audible above the hum of the air conditioning. With a gentle pull, he closed the door with a thud, sealing you in with your thoughts and fears. The latch clicked shut, and you were left alone, enveloped in the eerie silence of the unfamiliar space.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to survey your room even closer.

Your eyes swept over the tall walls adorned with abstract artwork, bursts of vibrant colors contrasting sharply with the subdued hues of the furniture. The wide windows offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline, with skyscrapers twinkling in the distance like distant constellations.

Approaching the plush king-sized bed, you sank into its cloud-like mattress, feeling its comforting embrace envelop you. It was definitely an improvement from Mimzy's lounge. And yet, despite the luxurious trappings, a sense of confinement lingered. After all, a gilded cage remains a cage.

As you assessed your situation, it became clear that you were going to be the star attraction in Velvette's upcoming fashion extravaganza. Her shows were always a hit, and this year's circus-themed spectacle had her buzzing with excitement. The lead model was a singer-actress you'd heard of; you'd seen her the day Mimzy dragged her into the lounge. Pity the poor girl died.

Given the circus motif, it was apparent why Velvette had chosen you. Your background as a singer, coupled with your doll-like appearance, made you the perfect fit for the role.

The best course of action now was to play it safe. Going along with her plan was sure to draw attention, from the lowest imps to Lucifer Morningstar himself. Your face was bound to be plastered on every screen in the infernal realm, broadcasted to demons and damned souls alike. Even with his hatred for the picture shows, Alastor would have to be both blind and deaf to miss this.

He would come for you, you knew it deep in your bones, and yet a pessimistic voice in the back of your head whispered doubts.

Did you even deserve to be taken back after all of this?

With these thoughts weighing heavily on your mind like an anchor dragging you into the depths, you closed your eyes, seeking solace in the darkness behind your lids. But sleep remained elusive, evading your grasp.

As the night wore on, exhaustion crept over you like a heavy fog, its tendrils enveloping you in a suffocating embrace. Despite the turmoil raging within, your body succumbed to weariness, and gradually, you slipped into your dreams.

˚୨୧₊♱

Both you and Alastor embarked on a slow journey through the darkened streets of Louisiana, the car's headlights cutting through the enveloping gloom like beacons. Carefully navigating the labyrinthine city, you avoided the occasional patrol car with its blinding flashlights, skirting through shadowed alleys and side streets to evade detection.

Finally reaching the outskirts of town, where the forest awaited, Alastor brought the car to a halt, the engine's low hum fading into silence. Turning to you, he noticed the fear etched on your face, your wide eyes reflecting the dim glow of the dashboard lights.

With a tender touch, Alastor took your face in his hands, calling for you. "Cher?"

You turned to him, your lips parting slightly as tears welled in your eyes. Alastor's touch was feather-light as his fingertips traced a delicate path along the curve of your cheek. With a gentle brush of his thumb, he coaxed your eyelids closed. Tears streamed down your cheeks, leaving a trail in their wake. As you blinked your eyes open again, you were met with the tender press of his lips against yours.

"We did what we had to do," Alastor murmured against your lips, his voice a low rasp that sent goosebumps dancing across your skin.

With his eyes closed, he leaned in closer, his kiss growing more urgent, almost desperate. You responded in kind, the roughness of the kiss igniting a fire within you.

Feeling his fingers threading through the back of your hair, you whimpered and melted into his embrace, your hands clutching onto his broad shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his button-up shirt. Alastor groaned in response as he lifted you effortlessly from the passenger seat and settled you onto his lap. Your chest pressed flat against his, the rhythm of your heartbeat syncing with his own.

As the sky grew darker, the moon mingling with the fading hues of sunset, the wind whispered through the open windows of the car, carrying with it the promise of a new beginning.

Alastor eventually pulled away, his gaze lingering on your tousled hair and puffy lips as he leaned back in his seat, taking in every detail of your appearance. Seeing you in such a ruined state stirred something within him.

"Are you ready?" he asked. You nodded meekly in response, your heart racing.

Truth be told, you didn't think you could ever truly be ready for what you were about to do.

Your husband hummed in acknowledgment, allowing you to slip off his lap as he straightened his brown coat, the fabric rustling softly with each movement.

Guiding you out of the car, he then reached into the backseat, retrieving his hunting gun. The metallic click of the firearm being loaded echoed in the quiet night. And you damn near fainted when he handed it to you, the weight of it feeling heavier than you could bear. The metal surface was icy against your palm, and you fought the urge to recoil, but Alastor pressed it firmly into your hand, his touch reassuring yet commanding.

"You'll need this," Alastor spoke lowly, bending down to your height, his glasses slipping further down the bridge of his nose. "Use it for safety. There might be wild animals out."

You hesitated, the weight of the weapon heavy in your hand, but the urgency in his tone spurred you to nod in agreement.

"Do you remember when I taught you how to hunt?" he questioned, slipping on a pair of dark leather gloves he had pulled out of his pocket. His voice was low and smooth, laced with a hint of nostalgia. "You remember how to shoot, no?"

You nodded, eyes still glued to the gun, unable to tear your gaze away.

"Words, cher. Use your words."

"Yes, love," you whispered, finding your voice. Alastor smiled, the rough texture of his glove grazing gently against your cheek as he pressed his hand to your face one last time before stepping away.

Your husband made his way to the trunk of the car, the soft glow of the taillights casting long shadows across the forest floor. With strong pull, he opened it, revealing its contents. Your breath caught in your throat as he retrieved a shovel and a black body bag, the sight sending a sickening feeling through your stomach.

Alastor slung the bag over his shoulder and began walking, his steps confident, as if he knew exactly where he was going. The weight of the bag seemed inconsequential to him, swinging lightly with each stride. There was an odd, almost unsettling look in his eyes as he whistled a tune, the sound echoing eerily through the silent woods. A glint of something primal and untamed flickered within their depths.

Nonetheless, you followed him, drawn to his presence like a moth to a flame.

Trudging deeper, the shadows seemed to grow darker, more menacing. The silence pressed in on you from all sides, broken only by Alastor's whistling and the sound of your footsteps crunching on the forest floor. Each step felt like a descent into madness, the unknown lurking just beyond the reach of your flashlight's beam.

Suddenly, Alastor halted in a secluded corner, where the trees were decaying, their long branches resembling gnarled fingers reaching out for you in the darkness. He turned to you, the dim light of your flashlight reflecting off his glasses, giving his brown eyes an otherworldly glint.

In that moment, illuminated by the pale beam, he looked almost demonic, his features twisted by the play of light and shadow.

"I'll be back shortly, cher," he hummed with a smile, adjusting the bag over his shoulder. You couldn't help but notice a darkened spot on his brown coat, the collar of his white button-up now stained with crimson. "Stay here."

With that, he disappeared into the darkness, his figure swallowed by the shadows of the forest, leaving you alone amidst the looming trees.

Time stretched on endlessly, each minute feeling like an eternity as you stood alone. Faintly, you could hear the distant sound of Alastor's shovel breaking through the earth's surface, its metallic scrape and the muffled thud as it struck the soil sending another wave of nausea curling in your gut, each noise a grim reminder of the task at hand.

All you wanted was to escape, to return to the safety of your quaint house in the city.

More than anything, you longed to open a bottle of whiskey, to drown your fears and sorrows in its comforting embrace. Maybe have a second, or a third, and just forget.

Forget about all of this. Forget it all ever happened. But deep down, you knew that no amount of alcohol could erase the memories of tonight, each image now etched into your mind like scars on your soul.

All of a sudden, a rustling sound behind you sent a jolt of adrenaline through your veins, followed by the distant but unmistakable bark of dogs. The sound seemed to come from all directions, surrounding you in a menacing chorus.

With a sharp gasp, you spun round and round in a whirl, your vision tunneling with fear as you scanned the darkness, eyes wide and frantic. Every rustle of the leaves, every snap of a twig, seemed to magnify the sense of dread that gripped you. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, the cool night air burning in your lungs as you struggled to keep your composure.

And then, without warning, something lunged from the darkness, a blur of movement that sent your heart racing even faster. Instinct took over, and without thinking, you raised the gun and fired, the deafening sound reverberating through the silent forest.

You gasped for air, the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you found yourself sitting on the damp, muddy ground. The recoil of the gun had sent you sprawling backward, leaving you disoriented and breathless.

With trembling hands, you clutched the gun closer to your chest, the cold metal providing a shaky sense of security in the darkness. Despite the fear coursing through your veins, a surge of determination propelled you forward, your muscles tensed and ready for whatever danger lay ahead. Scrambling to your feet, you pushed yourself onward.

Each step was punctuated by the crunch of underbrush beneath your boots, the sound amplifying in the stillness of the forest. Amidst the shadows and foliage, you caught a blur of brown, relief flooding through you like a wave crashing against the shore.

Oh, heavens, it was just a deer.

As you trudged towards the poor animal, your foot caught on a branch, and you stumbled, the unforgiving forest floor meeting your body with a painful thud. In the fall, your gun slipped from your grasp, skidding off into the shadows.

Wincing, you pushed yourself up to your knees, the earthy scent of decay mingling with the metallic tang of blood. You looked toward the fallen creature, its form now visible in the dim moonlight filtering through the trees. But as you crawled over, dread crept into your heart.

There, lying face down on the dirt, was Alastor, his once-immaculate brown coat now dirtied, blending seamlessly with mud. His glasses lay shattered and discarded in front of him, glinting faintly in the dim moonlight that danced across the forest floor. A pool of crimson blood seeped from his head, staining the earth beneath him.

Your eyes widened with renewed horror as the truth dawned upon you, and you fell onto your back, scrambling away from the corpse of your husband, the damp earth sticking to your palms as you clawed at the ground in your panic.

The bark of the dogs were louder now, closer. Ignoring the dizzy vertigo in your head, you pushed yourself to your feet, your senses on high alert.

You choked out a broken apology but found that you could not hear it, that you could not make any sound at all.

You breathed, it was all you could do, all you could manage at the moment, and with the terrible weight on your chest, even that was made difficult.

What have you done?

˚୨୧₊♱

"Salutations! It's Tom back on the airwaves! Hold onto your hats because we've got some news that'll knock your socks off! Alastor Caron, the big shot radio host and husband of underground singer Dolly, also known as Y/N Caron, has been found pushing up daisies out in the sticks of Louisiana!

That's right, folks, he's dead!

Word on the street is, ol' Alastor met our maker with a bullet to the head in what can only be described as a real tragic whodunit. Sources close to the case are whispering in the wind, suggesting that Dolly herself might be mixed up in this spicy little affair. The coppers found her fingerprints on the gun! Can you believe it?! Stay tuned as we peel back the curtain and spill the tea on this sto—"

You shut the radio off with a frustrated slam of your fist, the sound echoing through the desolate living room.

Eviction papers and newspapers, crumpled and worn from countless readings, are strewn haphazardly across the table.

"Gone Girl," "Husband-killer," "Missing Marionette," "A Doll's Vanishing Act," "Manhunt underway for Suspected Murderer," "Louisiana Radio Host dead; Wife blamed."

The headlines scream, each word a painful reminder of the nightmare engulfing your life.

Empty bottles litter around you, their contents spilled and forgotten, the sharp scent of alcohol mingling with the drowning feeling of grief that permeates the room. Sirens wail in the distance while red and blue lights dance along the walls, cast by the dim light filtering through tightly shut curtains.

As you reach for another bottle, the drinks blur into one another, their labels indistinguishable in the dark room. The burning sensation as the liquid courses down your throat offers temporary relief from the turmoil raging inside your mind, numbing the pain and grief threatening to consume you. Each sip takes you further into a haze.

The room spins around you, items warping and dancing in a twisted mockery of your predicament. There are whispers now, soft and insidious, slithering into your ears like serpents. You try to push away the accusing voices echoing in your mind, drowning them out with your bottle's numbing embrace. But with each passing moment, the weight of the accusations grows heavier, dragging you deeper into despair.

Nausea churns in the pit of your stomach, and you finally stop moving, the dizziness overwhelming you. A deathly coldness settles over you, seeping into your bones like icy tendrils, causing you to shiver involuntarily. Your fingers lose their grip on the bottle, and it crashes to the ground with a shattering sound that echoes in the stillness of the room, shards of glass scattering across the floor like stars falling from the sky. You follow suit, collapsing onto the floor, limbs heavy and muscles twitching.

You stare vacantly ahead, unable to move, your eyes glazed over with a hollow emptiness as a sense of dread washes over you, suffusing the air with an oppressive weight. Each breath feels like a battle, your chest tightening with every inhalation, as if your lungs were filled with water.

Your breaths grow more labored, each one shallower than the last, until they eventually cease altogether, leaving you gasping for air that refuses to come.

The world around you fades into darkness, the edges of your vision blurring as consciousness slips away, leaving you engulfed in a silence broken only by the faint echo of your last heartbeat.

˚୨୧₊♱

There was screaming.

Footsteps thudded along a path nearby, accompanied by the fluttering of wings as creatures soared overhead.

You awaken with a startle, disoriented and groggy.

Slowly sitting up, you find yourself surrounded by a crimson landscape, a pentagram shimmering ominously in the air above you. As you move, your hand sinks into something cold and wet, a sickening squelch accompanying the sensation.

Horror grips you as you realize your hand is touching a corpse, its monstrous form adorned with twisted horns, jagged tails, and rows of sharp teeth. The pair of lifeless eyes shift and stare into you, devoid of any trace of humanity.

Frozen with terror and panic, you scramble away from the grotesque sight, the ground slick with crimson ichor, each step leaving bloody handprints and footprints in your wake.

The evening light of this place reveals a grim environment surrounding you – a lumpy, uneven field of corpses and bones, a mass grave unlike any you've ever seen. But these corpses are not human; they are demonic, twisted and contorted in death.

Before you can even make sense of this grotesque scene, a spear slices through the air, its sharp tip gleaming in the dim light. With a thud, it embeds itself into the ground beside you. A sharp, stinging sensation follows as your cheeks burn, crimson liquid trailing down your skin.

Gasping for breath, you look up and catch sight of a figure soaring overhead, its massive wings spread wide against the crimson sky. Each beat sends a gust of wind rushing past you, whipping your hair around your face. The figure's single eye fixates on you, its gaze piercing through the darkness, the other obscured by a large 'X' mark.

Adrenaline surges through your veins as you run away, the cold sweat of fear prickling your skin.

Your surroundings blur into a chaotic whirlwind as you race through the labyrinthine alleys of Hell. With every stride, your heart pounds in your chest like a drum. Each footfall echoes in the narrow passageways, the walls closing in around you like a vice, but the chase of the angel behind you drives you forward, your muscles burning with exertion as you push yourself to your limits.

Suddenly, you're yanked to a stop, your body colliding with a stone floor as you're pulled into a hidden doorway. Pain shoots through your arm, and you wince, clutching it tightly against your chest. It throbs with a dull ache, bruised from the fall.

As you cautiously lift your gaze, you find yourself in a familiar setting—a speakeasy, though more rugged and rundown than you were used to. The air is thick with the scent of cigarette smoke and stale alcohol. Mismatched furniture and a barely held-together bar give the place a sense of makeshift charm.

"Well, look who it is."

The voice freezes you in place, and your eyes nervously move upward to see a familiar blonde woman before you, her sharp teeth glinting in the dim light, her eyes dark and intense.

"Mimzy?" you whisper, disbelief coloring your voice.

"It's me!" she cheers, swinging her legs and jazzing her arms up in the air. With a jump, she plops onto the ground, circling your hunched-over form with a mischievous grin. "How you doin', Dolly?"

"How?" your mind scrambles. "You-You…"

"I know! You thought I was dead?" she snickers before knocking you upside the head playfully. "Welcome to the afterlife, you ditz!"

"What?" you rasp, eyes frantically darting from her to your surroundings. "What are you talking about? Why do you look like that?!"

"Look what? Adorable~?" Mimzy hums and waltzes over to a gramophone, inserting a disk and starting a scratching melody that fills the speakeasy.

Hello, Dolly! Well, hello, Dolly! It's so nice to have you back where you belong~

"Come on, Dolly," Mimzy says, her voice low and melodic as she sways to the music. The bedazzled fringes of her dress sparkle in the dim light as she twirls, her heels dragging along the floorboards. "You haven't been living under a rock, have you? Or did'ja just arrive?"

You're lookin' swell, Dolly I can tell, Dolly You're still glowin', you're still crowin' You're still goin' strong

"I don't understand," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggle to comprehend what's happening. Everything feels like a dream—a nightmare, more accurately. "Where am I? What's going on?"

"We're both dead," Mimzy chuckles, tapping her heels along to the beat.

We feel the room swayin' While the band's playin' One of your old favourite songs from way back when

"What do you mean?" you manage to croak out, the words barely audible over the music.

Mimzy pauses mid-twirl. "Oh, Dolly," she sighs, shaking her head. "Hell, darling. We're in Hell."

Your blood runs cold at her words, the reality of your situation sinking in like a heavy weight on your chest. The memories of that fateful night flood your mind, filling you with a sense of guilt and despair.

Before you can voice your thoughts, Mimzy grabs your hand and pulls you into a dance, the gramophone's melody swirling around you like a sinister lullaby.

"So, take her wrap, fellas," Mimzy sings along, her laughter echoing off the walls. Her eyes gleam with a mischievous light as she leads you through the steps of the choreography you once knew so well. She twirls you around and drops you into a dip. "Find her an empty lap, fellas!"

"Dolly'll never go away again~"

You feel a surge of frustration building within you, the absurdity of overwhelming your senses. With a shout of anger, you push Mimzy away, a scowl etched deep on your face. She stumbles back, nearly losing her balance in her heels, her smile fading into a look of annoyance.

"Will you cut it out!" you snap, your voice echoing in the empty speakeasy. "Tell me what's going on!"

"Killjoy." Mimzy rolls her eyes and lets out a scoff, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. She moves over to the gramophone and turns it off, the melody abruptly silenced.

"I just told you what was going on, you doof!" Mimzy retorts, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The speakeasy falls into an uneasy silence, the air thick with tension, broken only by the faint sound of distant screams echoing outside the building. You gesture toward the source of the noise with a look of shock.

"Alright, I know well enough why I'm here, but what is that?" you inquire, your voice tinged with apprehension.

"An extermination. Angels come here to rid of sinners and such," Mimzy shrugs, her expression nonchalant despite the gravity of her words.

"Well, what about Alastor?" you press, the worry evident in your voice.

Mimzy's expression darkens, a flicker of anger crossing her features before she quickly masks it with a smirk. "Oh, you mean your darling husband? He's probably causing chaos somewhere, as usual. He'll be fine."

"I don't think he even knows you're here," she adds on with a yawn. "He probably thinks you're up in the shiny gates of heaven with his momma or something."

"Al knows I'm already dead?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Yup!" Mimzy chirps, her grin widening. "Your death came out in the news months ago. But only Lord knows why it took 'em so long to get you through purgatory."

The barrage of new information leaves you dizzy, your head spinning with the implications. "Wait—my death? The news?"

Mimzy moves over to the bar, kneeling down the worn floorboards as she digs through the bottom drawers.

"Didja know there's this little killin' business in Hell? I.M.P.—the Immediate Murder Professionals. And there's this cute little fella named Blitzo who does deliveries for me. I was his first costumer and poor guy needs the extra money so—"

"Mimzy, why are you telling me this?" you interject, confusion evident in your tone.

Mimzy's grin widens as she peeks at you from over the counter, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Well, sweetcheeks," she purrs, continuing to leaf through piles of paper, "if you paid attention to their name, they do murder. Murder in the human world, to be exact. And I hired them to go snuff you out!"

"But lo and behold, to my surprise," Mimzy continues, her tone laced with amusement, "you did their job for 'em! And this is what they brought back as proof."

With a flourish, Mimzy procures a newspaper from the depths of the cabident, her hands waving it around in excitement. She throws it to you, and you catch it, fumbling to see the headline. Your stomach churns as you take in the bold letters.

'LAST SWING: Speakeasy Star Suspected of Husband's Murder Dies in Alcohol Overdose.'

"Hi-larious!" Mimzy snorts as she presses a finger against the title, her expression gleeful. You hold the paper up, your hands trembling as you read through the article detailing your own death.

With a cackle, Mimzy jumps onto a nearby table, her movements lithe and energetic as she snatches the paper away from you.

"So, did'ja do it?" she taunts, leaning in close to your face with a devilish grin. "Didn't take you as the type. What was it? Poison? Housewife classic, I tell ya. Maybe a knife? Good ole push him down the stairs? Or was it a gun?"

You tense up at her last words, a cold sweat breaking out on your forehead. Mimzy smirks, her snicker ringing out like a sinister melody. Curls bounce around her face as she leans in closer, her lips practically ghosting against your cut.

"You shot him?"

"I—" you stutter, your breath catching in your throat as you run a hand through your frazzled hair, the disheveled strands tangling under your trembling fingers. "I didn't mean to! Heavens. I thought he was a deer!"

At that, Mimzy bursts out in loud laughter, tears streaming down her face as she clutches her stomach, doubling over with mirth. The sound echoes off the grimy walls of the speakeasy.

"Is that right?" she wheezes between fits of laughter, slapping her knee while still shaking with amusement. "No wonder he looks like a deer! Oh! The irony!"

"Deer?" you whisper out in confusion, your mind struggling to grasp the implications of her words amidst the chaos of her laughter. She laughs even harder at your response, kicking her feet in the air with unrestrained glee.

After a few minutes, she finally calms down. With a skip in her step and a glint in her eyes, she saunters over to you. Humming a tune, Mimzy twirls around you again, her movements fluid and graceful despite her earlier outburst.

"I know something you don't know~" she sings.

"What do you mean?" you frown, your voice trembling as you gaze at her, searching for any hint of what she's hiding.

"All in good time. I've told you a lot already, didn't I?" Mimzy replies cryptically, her tone snappy. "Let's see—I graciously saved you from that angel that was ready to spill your guts out, I've given you a wonderful welcome, helped you learn about your death, and, well, you were involved in my murder. I'd say the scales aren't balanced! You owe me. A lot."

Guilt churns in your gut as you nervously wring your hands. "Mimzy, no words can express how much guilt I feel about your—"

"Oh, cut the weeping dame bullshit. I don't care about that," Mimzy interrupts with a roll of her eyes and a wave of her hand. Her eyes gleam with a predatory intensity as she leans in closer.

"I'm feeling generous today," she purrs, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. "So, I'll make you a deal."

You eye her warily, the guilt in your gut twisting into a knot of apprehension. Despite your unease, you nod, silently urging her to continue, bracing yourself for whatever devil's bargain she has in store.

"In exchange for absolving your involvement in my murder and providing information on your husband," she whispers, her voice dripping with malice, "you'll owe me a favor. A big one. I want you to work for me again."

You tense, your mind racing as you process her proposition, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach. "What?"

Mimzy's smirk widens at your reaction, her eyes gleaming with amusement as she relishes in your discomfort. "That's right, sugar. I want you back on the job, working for me just like old times."

"Well I… I don't have much of a choice, do I?" you reply, clenching your fists in frustration.

Mimzy's laughter reverberates through the speakeasy, each chuckle sending shivers down your spine.

"Of course not! Would you prefer to go running to Alastor instead? Oh, dear hubby, please shield me from the consequences of my sins! My apologies for putting a bullet in your skull!" she mocks your voice, drawling the syllables out as she clasps her hands together and bats her eyes at you.

A surge of humiliation and guilt washes over you, weighing heavy on your shoulders as you struggle to come to terms with the choices before you.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts. Despite the overwhelming guilt and shame swirling within you, you know that you're cornered. Mimzy has you right where she wants you, and the only way out is to play her game.

"Fine," you say through gritted teeth, your voice tinged with resignation. "I'll work for you again."

Mimzy's grin widens, her sharp teeth flashed at you. "Excellent choice, darling. You won't regret it."

With a snap of her fingers, a contract materializes in her hand. She hands it over to you, and you read through it. Funnily enough, it looks almost identical to your previous employment contract in the living with her, but one detail catches your eye.

"To settle the debt incurred due to the aforementioned act, Y/N Caron, acknowledging the gravity of her transgressions, agrees to become a singer for Mimzy's Lounge for a duration of ten decades," you read the line in shock. Turning to Mimzy, you clutch the contract tightly, your nails threatening to break the paper. "Ten decades?!"

"What?" Mimzy scoffs, her voice dripping with derision. "You stuck here for all of eternity anyways, and so is your husband. Might as well do something."

With a theatrical flourish, Mimzy reaches into her chest and pulls out a pen, waggling it teasingly in your face. "So? What will it be? Are ya gonna sign the contract? Or am I gonna have to throw you out where those angels can tear you to pieces?"

You read through the contract again, your eyes frantically scanning the paper for any loophole or escape route, but you come up empty-handed. With a sinking feeling in your chest, you realize that you're in this for the long haul.

"But what about Alastor?" you pressed, urgency creeping into your voice.

Mimzy's laughter filled the speakeasy, bouncing off the walls like mocking echoes. "Oh, sweetheart," she cooed with faux sympathy, "haven't you read the fine print? Your dear Alastor is strictly off-limits. Can't have him interfering with our little arrangement, now can we?"

"But… I need to see him," you pleaded, desperation lacing your words.

Mimzy's smirk widened into a wicked grin as she leaned in closer, mischief gleaming in her eyes. "And I need to make sure my end of the deal is fulfilled," she countered firmly.

Glancing down at the contract, you saw her pointing to a specific section. "Y/N Caron's husband, Alastor Caron, is strictly forbidden from being physically present around her in any way, shape, or form for the safety and integrity of this agreement."

"But… can't we find some middle ground?" you asked, a sliver of hope lingering in your voice.

"Ah, I've got an idea," Mimzy grinned , reaching into her drawer and pulling out an old radio. She extended it towards you. "You can talk with him as much as you like. This little radio will be your hotline to him. But there's a catch: he stays far, far away from you and this joint. How's that sound?"

Twisting the radio in your trembling hands, you felt the weight of the decision settle heavily on your shoulders. The device seemed ancient, its surface worn and its knobs slightly rusted, yet it held the power to bridge the seemingly insurmountable gap between you and Alastor. With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly brought the pen to the paper, the ink blotting the sheet as you signed your name away, sealing your fate.

"It's a deal."

#sephiewrites #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel velvette

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cardansriddle · 5 months

Text

Sugar - (tom riddle x fem!muggle!reader)

Summary: Perhaps it was an accident. Or perhaps the fates were mocking him. He had not meant to venture into the little coffee shop and he had most definitely not meant to return. But he kept coming back and the waitress kept putting sugar packets near his coffee every damn time.

Warnings: Tom gets possessive halfway through so it's pretty tame for him. not proofread. oh also self-indulgent crime & punishment debate (got a lil carried away).

A/N: 5.5k words but it's kinda mehh. to the person who requested this, i hope you enjoy it at least a little <3

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Tom felt as if he was a solitary figure in a world hushed by the winter's harsh embrace. With each step he took away from the desolate building of grey against the pristine canvas of winter, he felt lighter. He did not cast a look back towards the orphanage looming behind him, instead focused on the sound of the snow crunching beneath his feet as they led him further into the dark street cloaked in a thick layer of snow.

The wizard knew if he spent another moment in that cursed place he would have lashed out and killed someone, so he had hastily thrown his coat and emerald scarf around himself before slamming the door shut behind him.

Two more years. He thought to himself. Then he would be out and would never be obligated to return again. Perhaps he would even burn the place to the ground if his plans worked out in his favour.

The air was crisp, and his breath materialized in front of him with each exhale. His eyes quickly scanned the narrow empty alley for a suitable quiet place where he could pass his time. There was nothing interesting, except for the tiny bookstore nestled in the corner of the street that emitted a warm, golden light through its window. Tom quickly decided it would do, and he strode towards the place with purpose. A small bell chimed as he entered the place, which he quickly realised was a bookstore with a cosy coffee shop tucked inside.

He inhaled the pleasant aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the scent of weathered books. Before he could lose himself entirely in the intoxicating symphony of scents, a sudden, loud thud echoed from behind the counter, jolting him from his reverie.

"Blimey!" someone cursed, their voice slicing through the tranquillity. Tom found himself rooted to the spot, curiosity piqued, as a figure suddenly emerged from underneath the counter.

It was a girl. Unabashedly, his eyes traced the lines of her features, noting the delicate curve of her jaw and the cascade of hair that framed her face. He assumed she was around his age if not younger and he stared at the girl as she rubbed her head, wincing when she hit a particularly soft spot before she realised that she was not alone in the shop. She froze like a deer caught in the headlights and he watched as her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red.

Tom, still an observer, saw more than just the blush; he discerned the subtleties of her response, the way her eyes momentarily widened before seeking refuge elsewhere, fingers fidgeting with the edges of her knitted cardigan.

She attempted to compose herself and met his eyes. "Oh! Sorry, sir. How may I assist you?" She asked cheerfully, resisting the urge to duck her head down to avoid his intense stare.

He crossed the small distance to the counter. "I'd like a coffee. Black."

"No sugar?" she inquired, to which Tom raised a single brow. Her blush deepened as she quickly averted her eyes from his face.

"Right, of course. You may take a seat while I prepare this for you." With a nod, she hurried to fulfil his request, leaving Tom alone with the lingering scent of coffee and old books that were now intertwined with a pleasant smell of vanilla and sweet—

It was her perfume, he realised with a start.

He hastily removed his coat and scarf before plopping down on the nearest armchair. His gaze remained fixed on the girl, absorbed in the rhythm of her practised motions as she prepared his drink, her movements seemingly both effortless and comforting. There was an almost lazy grace to her actions and he continued to watch as she sang under her breath so softly if he had not been staring so intensely, he would not have picked up on it.

He wondered how he had never noticed this place before. He had been passing through this little street for as long as he could remember but for some reason, he had only stumbled upon it today. His sharp eyes darted around, instinctively searching for traces of magic, half-expecting the discovery of a hidden passage to the wizarding world but he quickly realised the place was undeniably, disappointingly muggle.

Muggle.

He tore his gaze away from the girl at the mental reminder of what she was. He fished out a book from his bag and opened it to occupy his mind.

The subtle shuffle of her approaching steps drew his attention back to the present, and he met her gaze as she placed the steaming cup of coffee before him. A sugar packet sat innocently beside it. His eyes lingered on the packet for a moment before lifting coldly to meet hers.

She, however, was undeterred by the intensity of his glare. “In case you change your mind.” She smiled at him softly before turning on her heel and walking back.

His gaze lingered on her retreating figure, and then, almost involuntarily, it dropped to the innocuous sugar packet.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Tom did not know why he had returned. Truthfully, he had not even noticed his feet had led him here until he was in front of the familiar wooden door that led into the coffee shop. Perhaps he had thought more than he should’ve about the disgustingly soft smile of that girl for the last five months. She was an insolent muggle, yet here he was, walking into the place as if he had never left.

The seasons had blurred since he had last been here. Winter had long surrendered to the warmth of summer. He had to spend at least a month in the orphanage, and he was hoping Malfoy would invite him over for the rest of the summer.

The place was just as he remembered it. The only difference was the lack of Christmas decorations. He faltered only slightly when he took notice of the girl behind the counter, already staring at him. She had not changed much. Her face was the same, less pale perhaps, but the same, nonetheless. The oversized knitted sweater that once enveloped her had been replaced by a little white sundress, and his gaze involuntarily lingered on the exposed smooth skin.

“Welcome back!” She greeted him cheerfully, and he was not surprised she remembered him. “What can I get you?”

“Black coffee,” he replied curtly

She nodded as if she was expecting it. "Coming right up." Gently shutting her book, she gracefully moved towards the coffee machine. Tom's eyes couldn't help but trail to the volume she had been reading, and to his pleasant surprise, it was Dostoyevsky. He had not pegged her as someone who would enjoy Russian literature, with its weighty and morally morbid themes. In his mind, she seemed more likely to be a Jane Austen enthusiast, with her intricately written romances and flowery prose.

“It’s 'Crime and Punishment'." He suddenly heard her soft voice declare, and he looked away from the book to give his attention to the girl. Then feeling as if she had said something silly, she blushed and looked away quickly. "Though I'm sure you figured that. I just wondered why you look so surprised."

He replied before he could tell himself not to. "I did not imagine you as someone who would enjoy this."

Emboldened at his words, she turned to face him, a hand casually resting on her hip as she sported a cheeky smile. "Am I to presume you imagine me often?"

His sharp inhale was audible as he absorbed the unexpected shift in her demeanour. He had not expected this shy, timid girl to tease him so boldly. She was a little vixen.

But he did not give her the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of him. A lazy raise of his brow was the extent of his acknowledgement before his gaze wandered towards the rows of bookshelves, feigning indifference. "Do you have another copy? Perhaps I shall like to reread this evening."

She frowned, walking over towards the table he had occupied last time to set his coffee down. He grimly took notice of the sugar packet placed near it. "I'm afraid not. But you can have mine."

"No, that is quite alri—" He began to decline but she had already crossed the small distance between them and was holding out the thick book. He hesitated for a moment before his fingers closed around the object, careful to avoid touching hers.

The girl smiled and walked away before he could even say thanks. Not like he was going to.

Settling back into the soft armchair, he opened the book only to freeze at the sight of a name scribbled on the front page and he knew it belonged to her. The wizard rolled the name around in his mind and determined that it suited her. He stared at her name for a minute longer before turning the page and delving into the content of the book.

He had been so immersed in the story that he had not noticed how the time had passed. The gradual hush of the coffee shop's ambient sounds finally penetrated his concentration, and he distinctly heard the girl approaching him.

"I'm sorry to disturb you but we're closing in five minutes." She looked at the book in his hands. "You may return it once you're done."

He hummed and looked down at where he had stopped.

"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken."

He wondered if the universe was trying to tell him something.

Tom found himself caught in the silent narrative of this stranger's presence.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

He returned the next day.

She looked up to see him enter, the sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled up.

Tom placed the book on the counter.

"You finished it in one day?"

He shrugged. "I'm a fast reader."

She gave him a small smile, turning to make his black coffee before he could ask for it. "Every time I reread it it takes me a few days." She paused for a moment, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "The usual?"

He nodded. "The usual." He debated whether or not to voice his next question, and decided one conversation with the girl would not hurt.

"Why do you read it so often?"

"Each time I find new details that make Raskolnikov's character more complex. Each time I discover these small little things I missed the last time I read it becomes so much better. Plus I enjoy his moral dilemma."

He hummed, his curiosity piqued. He took his usual seat and watched as she brought his coffee and set it down in front of him. "Enlighten me." He gestured towards the seat in front of him. She hesitated only for a second before taking a seat.

"Raskolnikov is obviously a complex character. His actions are driven by a desire for power and superiority, a belief that he is exempt from conventional morality. However, one could argue that his internal struggles and eventual remorse suggest a more nuanced exploration of morality."

Tom furrowed his brows. "I see him as a product of his environment, a desperate man driven to extremes by the harsh circumstances he faced. His morality shifts to the other side of the spectrum."

She cocked her head to the side, and he could see her getting slightly frustrated. "But morality is not just a spectrum; it's a complex interplay of values, societal norms, and personal convictions. Raskolnikov's guilt stems from the clash between his actions and the intrinsic moral compass within him. It's the consequence of recognizing the weight of one's choices."

He scoffed before he could stop himself. "Morality is subjective. What is right for one may not be right for another. Raskolnikov was weak and he was an idiot. Guilt is a useless emotion and it is for the weak."

Her expression remained unwavering. "But perhaps it's that recognition of guilt that separates the morally discerning from those who lack empathy. The fact that you can't comprehend his guilt doesn't make it foolish. It makes it human."

Tom's eyes narrowed a glint of impatience in his gaze. "Human or not, guilt is a hindrance. It's a sentiment for those too feeble to rise above their actions. If I were to make a difficult choice, I would do it without hesitation, without remorse."

He only realised the slip of his tongue after the words left his mouth. He stilled, gauging her reaction yet her response was measured but firm. "Raskolnikov's guilt is a testament to his humanity, his ability to grapple with the consequences of his choices. It's what sets him apart from those who operate without remorse."

"But—"

"So what you're saying is you would kill and feel no remorse?" She cut him off.

Yes.

"You do not understand." He did not intend his tone to be so harsh, yet the words left his mouth coldly. She visibly withdrew and nodded stiffly. "Right. Enjoy your coffee."

He opened his mouth to say something but realised for the first time in his life he did not know what to say.

He was left staring at the cursed sugar packet she had left near his coffee again.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

He did not return the next day. Nor the day after. Or after.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Two weeks passed with no sign of him.

And then she saw him step into the coffee shop. He walked in with determination. He walked up to the counter, meeting her gaze with an intensity that mirrored the unspoken tension between them. "I'd like a black coffee," he said, his tone even, though a hint of something lingered beneath the surface.

She nodded, her expression composed but guarded. As she prepared the coffee, the air seemed charged with unspoken words. Her usual cheerful smile was notably absent. The absence struck him, and he realised he had enjoyed her smiles.

When she placed the coffee in front of him, there was a palpable pause. He glanced at the sugar packet, a subtle acknowledgement of the lingering disagreement. Without a word, he took it, his eyes meeting hers briefly before he poured the sugar into his coffee.

She looked at him, her gaze unwavering, before a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

He returned the next day. And the day after that. And for the rest of summer.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

The next time he stepped into the familiar place, winter had covered the city with a snowy blanket once again. It had been a year since he first discovered this little place. And he had not seen his little waiter since he left for Hogwarts in September.

When he walked in, her eyes lit up visibly. "Hi!" She waved at him with a bright grin.

"Hello." He greeted as he unwrapped his scarf and settled in his usual seat. In a matter of minutes, she was bringing him his usual order. She was back to wearing her warm knitted sweaters. "How did you enjoy the book?"

"Oscar Wilde never disappoints," he said. She hummed in agreement, pleased at his words. He watched as her hands dropped to fidget with the bottom of her sweater. "You wish to ask me something." He stated. "Ask."

"Do you study in a boarding school?"

Tom hesitated only for a moment before replying. "Yes."

"Oh. Well, that explains the months of not showing up."

"Were you expecting me?" He teased her with an amused smirk, taking delight in the way her cheeks reddened.

"I was just wondering that is all," she admitted, a hint of curiosity peeking through. Tom observed her, noting the return of the timid, shy girl from their first encounter. It amused him how a few teasing remarks could momentarily whisk away her fiery boldness. He couldn't help but wonder what it would take to awaken it once again.

"And do you wonder about me often, little vixen?" he added, a playful glint in his eyes.

She blushed harder at the nickname but then as if a thought had struck her, she straightened and Tom watched as she visibly mustered up her courage. "I actually was wondering your name."

He bristled, but she must have not noticed because she continued. "I suppose I have not given you mine either." She mused out loud and announced her name to him. "But I thought it bizarre that considering all the time we've talked we never got around to that. Friends who do not each other's names." The girl laughed at the last notion and only then she realised that Tom had remained unnervingly quiet throughout the exchange. She raised her eyes from the frayed edges of her sweater, and the sight almost made her take a step back. His eyes had darkened, and she could have sworn she saw them flash red. There was no warmth, no familiarity in his gaze.

"Are you alright?"

Suddenly, he rose from his seat, an ominous tension permeating the air as he advanced towards her with every word. "We are not friends. You dare to think I would be friends with the likes of you?" His words were sharper than the keenest of blades, cutting into her with merciless precision. "Foolish, little girl," He spat out before grabbing his things and storming out of the place. As the door closed behind him, the little coffee shop seemed to exhale, the echoes of his harsh words lingering in the hushed aftermath.

She stood frozen in her place, helpless against the storm of emotions and the tears that began to veil her vision.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

Tom fumed for months after their last encounter. How dare the ignorant muggle insinuate that they were friends? He scarcely considered his Knights of Walpurgis as his friends, and she thought she would just appoint herself the title? Who did she think she was?

"Mate, you alright? You've been unresponsive for a while." Malfoy nudged him slightly, attempting to draw his attention back to the present.

Tom made a noise of acknowledgement before mentally shaking the image of his little waiter— no, not his, he berated himself— from his mind.

But no matter how he tried, he could not. He could not just banish her from his thoughts. He knew a part of him, a rather embarrassingly large part of him enjoyed her company, her passion, her conversations— just her.

And there, tucked away in the recesses of his trunk, lay her damned book— a taunting reminder of her. The temptation to burn it, to obliterate any remnants of her from his life, danced on the edge of his thoughts. He had shoved away, out of sight if only just to save himself the fury, the anger, (the longing).

He wondered if she was going through the same turmoil as him. He hoped she was. She had no right to make him feel this way and get away with it unscathed.

But she was too enticing to give up. He did not know what it was about her. She was a muggle, an ordinary, plain girl working at a forgotten little cafe. Sure, she liked books, but so did a lot of other people. Yes, she was pretty, but so were a lot of other girls. But none could even come close to stirring his emotions as she did.

Perhaps it was the ease with which she conversed with him. Or the entirely too cheery smiles. Or her endearing knitted sweaters— though he secretly favoured the sundresses.

He, of course, knew what it was. He had tried to deny the idea to himself, but there was no escaping it. Tom had never been able to be unequivocally authentic with another individual before. From his early childhood, he refused to allow anyone close to him. He never lowered his walls and rejected anything that would yield a genuine connection. It was refreshing with her. He had no cause to uphold a curated facade.

Had she not been a muggle, he would entertain the thought of her bewitching him. He would have been convinced the girl put some spell on him or slipped a potion into his drink.

It was maddening.

She was maddening.

He sighed upon realising that he had spiralled again thinking of her. He needed to return the book, and maybe that would ease his mind. Perhaps once he was rid of her possession, she would not haunt him anymore. (Though he knew he was only trying to reassure himself with the last thought.)

As summer loomed around the corner, it felt both too distant and too imminent, mirroring the paradox of his tangled emotions.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

The sound of her laugh rang out before he could even close the door behind him. His head snapped up so fast it was a wonder he did not get whiplash. But there she was, his little waiter, chuckling delightfully as some boy spoke lowly from behind the counter. Chuckles escaped her lips, and she bit down on her lip in a futile attempt to stifle the laughter, her hands deftly at work preparing a drink. Despite her efforts, laughter bubbled forth once more, forcing her to set the cup down to avoid any potential spills.

An immediate surge of anger coursed through him. Who was this boy? What business did have with her? What right did he have to elicit such genuine laughter from her? (Most importantly, how dare she replace him?)

Tom swallowed the lump in his throat, attempting to gather himself into some semblance of a composed, unaffected man that he most definitely was not at that moment. With a loud, purposeful cough, he sought to catch her attention.

She spun around, the practised smile reserved for customers settling onto her face as she readied herself to serve him. However, the smile swiftly vanished the moment her doe-like eyes locked onto him. She looked like a deer caught in headlights as she stared at him, wide eyes roving over his face as if to confirm that he was really standing there, in front of her, and was not a figment of her imagination.

Because despite their last encounter, despite the anger, and the hurt she had felt, she kept hoping he would return. She kept imagining him standing there, with his ridiculously fancy scarf as he spewed out an apology. She had delved so deep into her fantasies involving him that now that he was actually there, she did not what to do or to say. Her tongue was tied, and her brain was fogged. What was she supposed to say?

It seemed he decided to grant her mercy and be the first to break the tense silence.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

He shuffled closer, though his steps were unsure, unlike his usual confident strides that she was used to seeing. “I wished to return your book.” He declared yet made no move to reach into his bag for the said book. He allowed his eyes to drink in the sight of her, her eyes that always seemed to glisten, her hands that were always fidgeting, her little sundress that he was afraid would drive him to insanity, (and her lips that he wished he could press against his own just so he could find out what they felt like, tasted like.) He shoved the last one into a drawer in his mind and locked it away. He could not fantasise about her. She was a muggle. He could not stoop so low as to hold affections for a muggle girl.

“Did you enjoy it?” The girl asked tentatively as if afraid one wrong word would set him off, have him spitting more harsh words that would dig deep into her skin and remain there.

“As always.” He replied. Because every book she gave him held another meaning. She was a clever girl, choosing the ones that she knew would have him coming back with a strong debate prepared in his mind. They always seemed to stand on opposite sides of every argument that the books posed, ensuring that their discussion would get heated, exciting, and thrilling.

While Tom vehemently disagreed with her views, he found pleasure in the way her mind worked. He admired her quick-wittedness, her ability to counter every argument he posed. No one else had engaged him in such stimulating conversations. She was a breath of fresh air, a captivating force he wanted to inhale and never release. He yearned to suffocate in the essence of her being, to be consumed and to consume in return. He wanted to own her— that irrational desire to keep her for himself was always there in the deeper parts of his mind that he was scared to venture into.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She responded but he could detect the subtle undercurrent of uncertainty in her voice.

He hesitated. “May I have one black coffee?” He was extending an olive branch, and while it was not an outright apology, coming from Tom, it was a whole declaration.

“It’s five minutes until closing time.”

She would not be swayed so easily then.

Fine. Tom thought. He would make her come to her senses.

The boy who he had forgotten was still there suddenly came to stand next to him. Tom eyed him with disdain, his features curling into an unimpressed sneer, raising a lazy brow.

“I’ll help her close up, mate. You can leave now.”

“Daniel, that is not necessary.” She muttered, glancing between the two men nervously. Daniel? Tom clenched his jaw, enraged. In his absence, it seemed she had gotten on first-name basis with a boy. His mouth soured with the taste of betrayal at her blatant ignorance. How could she discard him so easily? Had she not suffered all these months at the mere thought of him? Had he been alone in his suffering?

“No,” Tom stated flatly. “You will leave.” He told the boy then turned to face his waiter. “We will talk.”

“Tom, I do not think—”

He cut her off with a hiss. “It was not a request.”

Daniel seemed wholly displeased. He opened his mouth to argue, but his girl beat him to it. “It’s okay, Daniel. I will see you some other time.”

“Whatever he has to tell you, surely he can say in front of me.”

She shook her head gently, trying to dissuade him. “It’s a matter between him and I. I would rather talk privately.”

Tom looked smug as he faced Daniel again, struggling to contain his smirk. He could see the indignation clear on the boy’s face as his eyes flickered dubiously between her and Tom. He knew the wizard was no ordinary acquaintance of her, he could feel the palpable tension in the air like a wolf.

Tom, of course, wished to push his buttons further, just to have the last word. “You heard her. Leave.”

Daniel scoffed. “I will see you tomorrow then.” He muttered and with one last long look, he squared his shoulders and left the café with as much dignity as his wounded pride could muster.

As the door shut with a final thud, they were left in pregnant silence, both unsure of the dynamics at play between them. The air in the café hung heavy with unspoken tension as if the silence itself had taken on a weight, pressing down on them both. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed louder than usual, each second echoing in the quiet space.

She was the first to cave. "Well? You wished to talk." Gesturing towards him with a hand expectantly. "Talk."

Tom inhaled sharply, and for the first time in his life, he did not quite know what to say. How to proceed.

"Who is he?" The question tumbled from his lips before he could stop it.

She raised a brow. "Seriously? After how you walked out of here last time I would think your choice of words would be different."

"Different? I hardly think the question was unfair."

She huffed impatiently, discarding her apron as she turned from him to put everything away for the night. "Of course. How foolish of me to assume that you have no business inquiring about my life when we are not even friends." She chuckled bitterly. "You made the notion quite appalling if memory serves me right. You wish to know who is Daniel? For all you know, he could be my fiancee. Would it matter? No. Because you and I are hardly acquaintances."

An unfamiliar feeling began coiling in the pit of his stomach, and he suddenly felt sick. She briefly turned to fix him with a pointed glare and froze at the look on his face. The dancing flames of the candles seemed to mirror the flickering emotions in Tom's eyes—flames of irritation, discontent, and an unexpected pang of jealousy.

Tom could scarcely believe his fate. How was it that he— the most powerful wizard of his generation— had succumbed to the pathetic disease of— what was it? Desire? Lust? Infatuation? Such mundane urges were beneath him, he had no wish to pursue anyone or anything that was not remotely related to his quest for power. Yet there she was. In her infuriating fucking dress and those innocent eyes. Did she even know what sort of turmoil she had caused him?

All of a sudden he felt exhausted, defeated. His shoulders sunk visibly as he ran a hand through his hair. He would use a hundred of her sugar packets in his coffee if it meant she would just grace him with her bubbly smile again and just— just what? Leave him be? He did not want that. Treat him as if nothing had happened? Maybe. Release him from whatever enchantment she put him under? Yes.

"What do you want from me?" He asked at last, frustration clear in his voice.

She regarded him with disbelief as she rounded the counter to stand directly in front of him. "What do I want from you?" She repeated incredulously. "I want an apology! I want an explanation! I want—" she sighed, cutting herself off before she could finish the thought. "You cannot just show up here demanding things and ordering people around after how you treated me last time. If you wish to continue this conversation, you will apologise to me."

"You want me to say sorry?" He took a step towards her.

"Yes!"

"Fuck your apology."

Before she could register what was happening, Tom closed the minute distance between them and caved into his desire. He grabbed her face, fingers threading through her hair, and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was not gentle; it was a collision of pent-up tension and bottled-up desires.

Tom's lips moved fervently against hers, pouring his frustration into the act. It was a silent declaration that transcended the boundaries of his complicated inner turmoil. Tom knew that. But he could not pull away from her— not after having tasted how her lips feel like.

Her hands, which had hovered hesitantly in the space between them, found their way to his shoulders, fingers gripping the fabric of his coat, pulling him closer.

She felt—tasted like God's favourite nectar, sweet and addictive and he knew he would never get enough of it. She might not have been a witch, but he was bewitched by her.

As they broke apart, breathless, the air between them hung heavy with the residue of their shared kiss. He dared not to ease his hold on her, only stared at her with darkened eyes, taking delight in the way her lips were bruised, and puffy, all because of him. But it was not enough. He needed to mark her for all to see.

He dove into the tender skin of her throat like a man starved, teeth sinking into her flesh with no warning, and a sick sort of satisfaction washed over him at the muffled moan that escaped her mouth. He sucked on the skin until he was sure there would be a purple mark blooming on the spot before running his tongue over the flesh to soothe the sting. He did not waste any second before moving to mark another spot.

"I do not even know your name." She managed to choke out in between her whimpers, hands moving of their own accord to tangle in his hair, and a particular tug had him growling deep in his throat.

"Tom." He whispered, pulling away from her neck only to return his lips to hers. "Say it. Say my name." He murmured in between the kisses, pushing her back until her back was pressed against the counter. He easily picked her up to place her on the surface, his fingers trailing along her thighs to her knees to nudge them apart so he could stand in between them.

"Tom." She breathed out in a daze, and he smirked in delight.

She was his. He had already branded her, and he would do much more to ensure she knew it was him she belonged to.

He leaned to brush his lips against the shell of her ear. "I hope you know there is no going back from this. From me." He whispered, fingers slipping under the strap of her dress and dragging it down her shoulder slowly. "You are my dirty little secret now. Mine."

She shuddered under the weight of his words but he was already snaking his hand around her throat as his lips found home on her own once again.

No going back.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

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littlegingerperson5 · 22 days

Text

Piña coladas

Moodboard

SwitchEllie x SwitchReader

Warnings: aaalmost cheating ig, angst, fluff and smut😏, alcohol, scissoring on the beach bc that’s gay asff, fingering e! and r! receiving, oral e! and r! receiving, spitting, reader has a puthyy, lmk if I forgot some shit x

A/N: inspired by piña coladas by Rupert Homes. This was supposed to be a lil blurb but here we are ig x

As Ellie rinsed of her toothbrush and gave herself a quick glance in the mirror, seeing her plad pajama pants and white tank adorned to her body as she walked out the bathroom, rolling her eyes at your already asleep body as she climed into bed beside you, leaving her lamp on, considering the fact that she’ll be skimming through a newspaper for the next hour or so. (a habit she had picked up from Joel.)

She paused, for only a moment, admiring your pretty features and gentle smlie as you probably danced in the world of dreams, appreciating all the time you both have spent together, the memories, the laughter, the things you both had in common, the joy that she felt in your presence that has slowly started to fade, she felt guilty about almost resenting your presence, she didn’t hate you, you just never brought her that ecstasy that you both promised eachother at the start of this marriage, you both have falling into a lifestyle of pattern and predictableness, turning every day lifeless and a mere faded, dull colour on a once vibrant peice of art.

The guilt ate even more at her belly as she stopped on an ad, her finger tracing along the playful words that caught her eye, exciting her and scaring her at the same time, she shouldn’t be feeling this way about anyone, anyone other than her dearest wife. She battled with her emotions as she read the catchy poetry:

if you like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain

if you’re not into yoga

if you have half a brain

if you like making love at midnight (oh god has it been so long since she’s done that with you, she missed it)

in the dunes on the cape

then I’m the love that you’ve looked for

write to me and escape

Any thought of you instantly left her mind, enthralled by this new character, such a burst of life, she knew it was wrong, but she knew what she was going to do regardless as she picked up her notebook and played with her pencil, spinning it between her fingertips as she tried to think of something just as flashy to respond with, gnawing at her bottom lip, butterflies dancing in her belly as the graphite trailed along the pale paper while she prayed that her years of song writing would catch this poets eye, giggling to herself like a school girl as she wrote:

yes I like piña coladas

and getting caught in the rain

and I’m not into health food

i am into champagne,

She rolled her bottom lip out and squinted are eyes at the parchment, nodding to herself as she continued:

i’ve got to meet you by tomorrow noon and cut through all this red tape

at a bar called O’malley’s

where we’ll plan our escape…

The day dragged on as she waited for her new found love, reeking of her best fragrance and cigarettes as her foot tapped at the hardwood floor of the bar that was littered with dull lighting and strangely, Irish accents. She huffed as she straightened out her white button up, freezing like a deer caught in headlights as the main door creaked open, her heart stopping as her eyes locked onto a curve of lips that she knew far too familiar, it was her lovely lady.

As you trail forward her smile mirrors yours as she awkwardly jokes out “aw, it’s you” you both can’t help but laugh at each other’s situation as she pulled you in, closing her eyes as and breathing deeply as she placed a gentle peck on your forehead and pulling back, her huge smile taking up most of her face as she eyed you, her eyes slightly concerned “i never knew” she confesses, her hands on each of your arms.

You recognise her anxiety, “what you say we get a drink baby?” you say, your heart swelling at the sight of her happy smile returning “y- yeah I think that’s a good idea hunny” she says, interlacing her fingers with yours as you both walk hand in hand up to the bar, sitting besides on another, palms still touching as you both watch the middle aged red headed woman walk towards you “what can I get for the lovely couple” she smiles, her eyes lighting up at how you both compliment each other “two piña coladas, please” you order as Ellie laughs at your attention to detail…

After hours of talking and drinking, the bar has cleared as the hours ticked on late into the night, while the barkeep ‘Annie’ you learned after you and Ellie chatted to her for about an hour, telling her the story of how you both came to be where you are now “and and scene” Ellie bowed, one hand still on your thigh while she sat on the wooden barstool as if this was one big play, making you giggle, both of you clearly too tipsy for your own good as Annie tried to shoo you both away, growing impatient considering that she should have closed half an hour ago.

“alright you two, I think you both best be on your way now, it’s almost midnight” her fiery, curly hair sways as she tilts her head towards the clock “oh, yeah” you giggle “s-sorry Annie” you say, your speach impaired from the drink as Ellie leans forward and slides a twenty towards Annie “juuust lemme get that bottle of champagne” reminding you of her poem again as she points at the dark bottle on the top shelf as she turns and winks at you “then I’m DONE” she promises with a light slap to the Oakwood.

Annie sighs and stuffs the twenty in her bra, rolling her eyes and spinning on her heels, reaching up and grabbing the neck of the bottle, placing it in front of her as Ellie’s face lights up, her grin only dropping a little as the woman speaks “now get the fuck out my bar” she smiles sweetly as Ellie stands up, back ramrod straight as she salutes her “sir yes sir.”

She laughs as you mirror her actions, laughing to yourself as Ellie watches you with so much love in her eyes as you struggled to hold your laughter in while speaking “ss-sir yes sir” you even stomped your foot for special effect as Annie shooed you both while Ellie’s arm wrapped around your waist, wanting to steady you but mainly just to be closer. The alcohol was making her clingy and other things..

Both of you stumbled out the bar, gasping as the freezing droplets of water hit you and your wife as you snuggled towards eachother, Ellie taking the lead and guiding you to where you both are heading, her accessorised fingers gripping the icy cold neck of the champagne bottle and your waist symaltainuously, her cold thumb dipping into the side of your waistband and running along your flesh and making goosebumps appear as she neared the taxi she had her eye on.

You gripped the cold handle and ushered her into the car, stepping in after her and closing the door besides you, relaxing as the warmth of the car emerges you, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, Ellie’s voice fading as she told the driver where to go before she leans back and grips your thigh lightly bringing you back to reality as you squeeze them together and smile at her lazily, your face saying exactly what you want.

The wet haired girl just rubs circles onto the bare flesh of your thighs that peeped below your skirt “patience my love” she whispered to you, kissing you sweetly, pressing her pink lips to yours and just holding them there, feeling the plush of each others mouths against one another, making your face heat up as her hand slides between the plush of your thighs and squeezes softly, making your clit dance as she lays her head onto your shoulder, the smell of alcohol filling your nostrils as she drifts off while you stare out the window, watching to wherever the car is heading..

“Here’s your stop” happy blonde says, pulling you out your daze “a bit late for a trip to the beach don’t you think?” she asks.

You notice the full moon shining over the dark sea and the stars that littered across the sky, mirroring the sand that was thrown across the surface “uh” you paused.

Gripping the auburn headed girls shoulder “Ellie? Ellie?” You shook her gently, stirring her awake, her radiant face smiling up at you from your lap “yeah babe?” “we’re at the beach?” her body springs up, looking out the window “yes. yes we are” she laughs holding both her arms open at the sight in front of her “cmon baby and grab that” she tilts her head towards the bottle as you pick it up while she pays the lady “thank you” you both chirp before stepping out and closing the doors.

You watch the car drive off as Ellie’s hand meets yours again “cmon mama” she says in a love loving tone, watching the waves as she walks you down to the shore, it looked so pretty like this, it was just you two and the sound of the waves crashing.

Almost instantly Ellie’s lips are on yours, as she unbuttons your blouse, your hands landing in her hair as her arms wrap around your waist dragging you on top of her as she lands on her back in the sand, your knees on either side of her waist, as you both leave messy kisses on each others necks “fucking love you” she mutters, her fingers sliding into your panties “fucking love you too” you speak into her collarbones as she slides her finger along your dripping slit.

making your hips buck towards her as she grips the back of your neck pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, you slide your tongue into her mouth, dancing with the pink muscle as she rubs light circles into your clit, your eyes close, focusing on the feeling she’s putting on you as she sucks on your tongue and picks up the pace against your bud.

You pull away, and nuzzle into the side of her throat, your body writhing on top of her “ellie” you whisper “hmm?” “im gonna cum” you murmer into her neck “imgonnacum” your voice getting higher, your hips jerking as she pumps her finger inside you a few times before coming back down to your sensitive bud, your face pressed into her shoulder “d-don’t stop!” you squeal, your legs spasming as you palm her chest, your whole body on fire as you clench around nothing, squeezing so tightly as your teeth sink into her shoulder, making Ellies hips buck and her squeal in pleasure from the pain as you cum, your release dripping onto her abdomen and soaking through her clothes.

You breath, in and out through your mouth, catching your breath, your face hot as you speak, desperate to see more of her “guess we gotta take this off huh” Ellie’s lip tilts into a little smirk as you unbutton the shirt kissing the new revealed flesh with each undoing, one of her hands in your hair as your look up at her bare chest as your lips finally meet the soft leather of her belt before you unclasp it, your knees in the sand as you make home between her legs.

You lean forward angling your hand into her underwear as one hand lands into the slightly cold sand besides Ellie’s auburn hair as you avoid her clit and push one finger into her soaked entrance “f-fuck baby” she says through a tight throat “ffuck” both her hands wrap around your wrist as slide you glide in and out of her slowly.

Listening to her whimper as you messily lick around the oh her lips formed before spitting into her parted lips, watching as it drips down her tongue and then down her throat with each of her gasps that are raising in pitch urgently as you hit that spongy spot inside her.

Her brow furrowing and her eyes watering as her nails dig themselves into your forearm, her hips jerking as you push a second inside her warm plush cunt, your voice mixing with the squelches of pussy “aww you can take it mama” you reassure her and she just nods, the sand mixing with her hair as her warm tears runs down her face “y-yess mama g-unh please let me cum”

“hmm” your thumb comes up to play with her clit as you press your bare nipples to hers while you lick up the front of her throat, up the soft skin of her chin until you mouth is on hers while you speak “cum for me” against her lips.

Her back arches against the beach as she chants “yes” over and over while you continue to pound into her walls, them crushing your fingers “m-ama!” she squeals, squirting all over your fingers and falling limply, her head lulling to the side as her hands fold onto her belly, smiling lazily to herself with her eyelids half closed, high off your touch as you finish undressing her limp body and yourself, tossing the material to the side to lay in the sand.

Her heavy eyes watching as you slot yourself in between her legs, holding your eyes on hers as you let a ball of spit drip from your tongue directly into her thumping clit, making her gasp as you lower your centre against hers, her gentle moans mixing with the soft swooshing sounds of the waves hitting the shore,like music to your ears.

The gentle breeze making your nipples stiffen against your chest as the air leaves your body, the feel of her warmth against yours making you huff out shaky breaths, she felt so fucking good against you, your eyes watering as you wrapped both your arms around her thigh that was pressed against your torso, your cheek pressing against her calf as you placed soft kisses on the skin there while you glided back and forth into her.

Watching the oh shape her mouth formed as your bodies moved in tandem, slipping and sliding against eachother, making your wife feel so good, “e-ellie” you whisper a warning at the feel of her clit dancing against yours “me too m-uh metoo fuck” “mhmm” you whine picking up your pace, getting lost in how her freckled chest bounced under the moonlight with your movements, the salt of the sea filling your nostrils as your hips buck against hers, “don’t st-ugh” her face twisting in pleasure as her walls clamp against nothing, squeezing so tight as her legs spasm, kicking the sand, her chest trembling as her nails sink into the flesh of your hips “mommy” the gutteral moan that leaves your body at the name is enough to push her over the edge, her stomach spasming as she cums against you.

Her sensitive clit being beaten by you as tears leave your eyes and ellie’s name leaves your mouth, your whole body on flames as little spurts of liquid leaves you, making your body fall limp against hers, her heart beating rapidly against yours as you lay chest to chest, her palm resting against your back, both of your flesh kissing as you both pant, trying to catch your breaths “fuck, ellie” you laugh, in complete shock of how good you just felt, getting giggly from your high as you still feel her clit pitter pattering against yours softly “fuck” she just says back, weakly, in a daze “yeah” you laugh back.

You nuzzle your face into the side of her neck as her fingertips trace your body, peaceful in each others silence till you break it “what you say we go for a swim?” you whisper against her flesh and you can sense the smile that grows on her face “mhm” she hums, rolling over so now her toned body is above yours as she kisses your lips “good idea mama” she says, smirking and smacking the outside of your thigh harshly “Ellie!” you squeal as she stands up on shaky legs and sprints towards the water, you giggling as you chase after her…

Ellie’s back layed against the wet sand, hiding her face behind her hands shyly as you pulled her lower body into the cold water with you “mhm so pretty mama” you admired her porcelain skin against the moon as you held her hips just above the water, your tongue landing on her clit as you pulled it under with your mouth, the taste of Ellie and the salt water filling your senses as your nose hovered just above, allowing yourself to breathe as your tongue flicked harshly at her sensitive pearl, the water splashing as her thighs encased your face “ffu-god” she said through a tight windpipe “oh god” she chanted over and over her fingers in your wet hair pulling you closer, drowning you in her as you smiled to yourself, tilting your head to the side and sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves, the v-line on her stomach tensing up as her body moved restlessly.

The closer she gets, the thurther you drag her under, leaving the mark of where she once was in the sand as you your mouth seduces her just as a siren, only to drag her to the depths with you for your own pleasure.

Filling your mouth with water and lifting her narrow hips above the surface and letting the lukewarm liquid stream from your mouth onto her throbbing clit before landing a harsh spit of your saliva where your tongue once was.

You effortlessly slide two fingers inside her, one arm hooked around her leg, keeping her to you as her lower half dangles above the water, one of her legs laying limply in the pool as you pump in and out of her, harshly hitting that spongy spot inside her, making the poor girl sob as her delicate fingers wrap around your wrist.

Your eyes land on her leaking ones, watching the tears of pleasure roll down her blushed cheeks as she stutters “t-to much” she pleads for a break “too much yeah?” pulling out of her warmth, your gentle eyes flicker as a heavy handed slap lands to her clit making the pain shoot through her body and turn to pleasure as the plush of her thighs squeeze your hand.

Pulling her in with you as your cheeks hallowed, suckling on her clit, now only her head resting on the golden granules “fuck fuck fuck” she whispers as you nod against her, your thumbs rubbing soft circles onto her bare hips “dontstop!” She rushed out, her body tensing and curling in on itself as she tried to regulate her breathing with little gasps, both her hands in your hair as she trembled against the ocean “please” she begged over and over, completely gone from reality as the band in her belly snapped with a squeal of your name and her wet flesh squeezing the sides of your head and her fingers pulling at your locks, trying to get some relief as you continued to fuck her through her orgasm until you decided she had enough, pecking her clit, finally granting her the chance to breathe and pulling her thighs, picking her up till they wrapped around your waist as you palmed her ass.

Resting your head in the side of her neck and kissing the ticklish skin there as she slowly came back to reality “I love you so much” she spoke, her eyes closed and cheek pressing to yours as you echoed her words back to her “I love you too angel.”

You both just smiled contently, quietly feeling eachothers heart beat against one another’s “so much” you whisper, tears pricking at your eyes and finally falling, hitting her chest “hey, hey baby” she coos, gently grabbing your chin and making your eyes meet her green teary ones, her chapped lips parting as she speaks “I know, I know” she promises, placing soft kisses repeatedly to your lips as your breathing trembled. You calmed down a little and tried to kiss her back finally, feeling her smile against your mouth as the sun started to hit the bare flesh that you both shared.

“cold” Ellie muttered against your mouth, shivering at the temperature of the sea “oh yeah, lemme get you dressed mama” you stepped towards the shore, her body still wrapped around yours as you felt the sand between your toes and her body temperature regulate against yours, warming you up.

You tap her hip and her feet land in the sand as you pick up your blouse and slide it over her arms, kissing up her bare body with each button of the fabric till you peck her forehead and pull her white top over your body, her eyes watching you as you lay your skirt on the sand, sitting on it and beconing her towards you.

She nods, understanding you completely, without the need for words.

Her freckled face smiling as she grabs the bottle of champagne and sits onto your crossed legged lap, her knees at the side of your waist as her legs wrapped around you yet again, her eyes crinkle, smiling as she pops the cork off of the bottle and holding it to your mouth and watching intently as you take a sip “mmmh” you rolled your eyes.

She tilts her head like a bewildered puppy, her confusion only disappearing after she took a swig.

Her face twisting as she faked a gag “what did Annie sell us?” She laughed “diesel” you guessed, shrugging your shoulders and giggling watching as she still sips at it, smacking her lips “definitely diesel” she grins.

Digging the base of the bottle into the sand and pushing you down onto your back, the twinkle in her eye never faltering as you watch her grunt, rolling onto her back besides you, hip to hip, her fingers intertwining with yours “pretty isn’t it?” she asks as you, both of you slowing down, breathing in the smell of the beach as you watch the sun rise, lost in its beauty.

You tilt your head to face her “not as pretty as you” you poke her shoulder.

Watching the crimson appear on her freckled cheeks has your heart beating outta your chest, you can barely see her eyes she’s smiling that hard “cheesy” she giggles and kisses your shoulder “ugh you love it” you mock “i do” she whispers, mainly to herself as your hand reaches up and massages the back of her head, watching her eyes flutter close with a big stupid smile on your face “love you” she sighs against your shoulder “love you too ellie”…

@williamellieslilho @yourelliewillms @bready101 @moonalumi @heygrimace @elliesmama @pascals-doll @infiniteinquiries

#Spotify #ellie williams #lesbian #ellie x fem reader #wlw #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams smut #ellie x reader #ellie smut #ellie the last of us #ellie x y/n #ellie x masc reader #ellie x black!reader #ellie x you #ellie angst #ellie fluff

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slothkittfunsies · 2 months

Text

Deep Dive into the issues on Alastor.

CONTENT WARNING: Racism, Aphobia.

Now that I created a blog specifically for stuff like this, It's time for the dive.

Alastor is a character that resonates with me, because this guy is supposed to represent me and my people (aspec/aroace community) and I liked his pilot personality. (That went to shit)

This man got so many issues, that i have to take the pen myself and scribble what Vivzie has wrote. So, Let's start, shall we?

THE DESIGN

The first time I saw the Hazbin pilot, I got confused about what Alastor was supposed to be. I thought he was just a grey human wearing some kind of animal ears until the fandom said he is a deer.

A deer. Let that sink in.

(Images for comparsion)

As someone passionate about the arts, this upset me. Sure, I haven't been to art school, but even I know you need to put the backstory and features in mind when designing a character.

Character design is NOT throwing things at the wall and seeing which sticks. It needs actual critical thinking. If your audience is confused about your character's species, it's time to go back to the drawing table (unless you have a reason for making it mysterious.)

Second, the overabundance of red is awful in terms of color theory. This guy is in Hell, which is also red, causing an eyesore. I got a headache when trying to focus on him on a red background. And also, colors have meaning. People associate red with danger, so the fact he even managed to get victims to kill makes me puzzled.

Also, the fact he's supposed to be mixed/black makes this design even worse. Why is he grey instead of brown, perhaps? Vivzie has a pattern of making POCs grey-skinned, which is, again, awful.

I think Vivzie only made him a POC due to the voodoo issue. I mean, just remove the symbols and you are done. But nah the symbols are too "aesthetic" to remove. So gotta change his race.

She could have used another symbols, like THIS for example:

Since, you know, he's the "Radio Demon"?

THE BACKSTORY

Ok, this where I'm very confused.

Alastor is a radio host, and also a serial killer. He was born in the USA, got killed by a deer hunter by mistake, and lived in the 1920's.

This is what I gathered from being a superfan back then, and it sounds unorganised/cluttered. And the years he lived in make his design even worse. (Again! His clothing doesn't speak the 1920s!)

The fact he's from an old era, and yet speaks in modern slang is weird. He's supposed to hate anything modern, and yet he does it anyway? His saying "fuck" multiple times is so out of character for him. I guess the "If made by Vivziepop" memes have some truth.

Putting the fact he's mixed, makes the backstory more confusing. How did he manage to be a popular radio host at the time before the civil rights movement became a thing? He will have been put down like the rest of the POCs in America. Either that he's white-passing, or it's VERY difficult. Adding the fact he's a serial killer makes me think how the cops didn't get to him (the mere fact he's black should have got him questioned in 1920s America)

Now, for his identity. I'm mad he's the only aroace character in the sea of gays and bisexuals. (I'm not saying gay men and bisexual people should not have representation. I have to say that due to tumblr's piss poor reading comprehersion)

which made me go through on why Vivzie made him aroace in the first place. I don't know if this is true, but I heard she made him aroace because "he only loves himself"

Um. Here we go again with allos assuming we are non-empathic psychopaths for our lack of sexual or/and romantic attraction. I hope that's not true at all, but knowing Vivzie's past, I wouldn't be surprised.

Alastor would have been a great character if another person took care of it instead of Vivziepop. What I'm gonna say is, wasted potential.

#hazbin hotel critical #vivziepop critical #hazbin critique #hazbin critical #spindlehorse critical

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neiveel3llson · 2 months

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Lost Loves

Reunited in Hell.

You didn't expect to end up in Hell. It's something that just never occurred to you, that despite your praying, begging for forgiveness, youd still end up rotting with everyone else. You'd helped your husband in his murders, you'd still help him, have he not been shot.

You wandered curiously through Hell, looking at a porn store, an already mugged store and weapons store that crossed your way while you walked through the streets like it were normal. There was chaos all around you, it felt like every two seconds someone's head was lobbed off in a gruesome way. You continued to walk through the crimson streets of Hell before something caught your eye, a small group of sinners all huddled up around a smaller store, or what looked like a store.

Your curiosity got the best of you, dragging you into the front of the small group, murmuring apologies or simply pushing past those who chose to ignore you. It was a radio, a modern looking one at that, similar to one you had in your own home, which you'd always listen to your husbands radio show on. Then something struck you, the radio wasn't the only familiar thing about this scene. The voice, the grating, static-filled voice. Youd recognise it anywhere. Alastor..

You listened in intently, rudely sushing any murmur or whisper among the crowd you'd trudged your way into. You smiled manically upon just listening to his voice for more than two minutes. Frantically, you grasped onto the shoulders of the hell-goer closes to you, a gatsby woman. She was short and pudgy, but undeniably pretty.

"Where does he live?" You asked with the most amount of kindness you could muster, despite your excitement.

"The radio demon? He's residin' at his radio hut, why?" The woman asked, hands on her hips. You bit a scowl at hearing the woman refer to your deceased husband as a demon, but you kept your composure.

"Take me there!" You said breathlessly with a grin, gripping the short woman's shoulders harshly, making her shrug them off.

"And what's in it fa' me?" She asks, looking at you from the side of her eye, tilting her head slightly with a bored look on her face.

"I'll put in a good word for you." The first offer, and undeniably the best. A cocky grin came to her face as she took you hand, shaking it slowly, beginning to drag you down the street. You saw a small lodge at the end of the street, decrepit but sturdy. Minimalistic. It came closer with every long stride, making you grin. You were so close to seeing your husband again, a mere stride away.

You missed the next few seconds of your life- well, death, only truly in your own mind again when you were face-to-face with your husband, his hands gripping your arms tightly. He was scared of leaving you, again. You looked into his newly red eyes, his paler skin, his red hair, everything about him. Even his new features. His deer ones, fitting.

"I've missed you, love.." You murmured breathlessly, a small, teary smile on your face. The small woman had gone, leaving nothing in her wake. It was just you and your husband, the hotel was silent, apart from your small sniffles and the static coming from your husband. Your husband.

"Oh my darling.. I never meant to leave you.." He cooes with a large grin on his face, bearing his sharp, yellow teeth.

Both of you leaned into one another, soft bleating coming from Alastor's throat as your lips connected for what felt like the first time in a millenia.

You held his hand in yours desperately, feeling a cold metal on your finger. His wedding ring, he never took it off. It didn't fit his aesthetic, the silver contrasting his outside drastically, but he'd kept it on.

"You kept it on.." You murmured against his lips happily, feeling him cup your face.

"I was waiting for you, darling.." He cooed yet again, leaning down with a large grin but, it was comforting. Soft.

"I love you.." A chorus of two voices, filled with a heavenly love and devotion to one another, pure love.

This belongs to @nieveel not you

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dissentersbedamned · 2 months

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that charlie redesign wanted me to redesign some others so here are some others, i was going to do husk, nifty, and sir pentious but i didnt feel like doing that

are these designs easier to animate? probably not am i claiming to be a better character designer than viziepop? yes

i might do the others but probably not i dont want to be know for this

individual characters and design notes below

i wanted to give her this soft color palette, making her stick out from the rest of hell, like an "angel" in hell

gave her a pink suit like her pilot design

gave her gold accents to give that royalty feel

her hair is now more curly/swirly to giver her a sheep look, along with the ears, kind of like how lucifer is associated with goats charlie has sheep

i also gave her ears to maker her not look like just a human

the darker pink-red color is supposed to contrast with her softer colors but not that much, it's supposed to convey that she is still a demon, the horns were also added to give that feel

bigger cheek makeup (?) and those gold "chains" were added to giver her a circus clown/ring leader look because hell is supposed to be like a circus

gave her tap shoes to convey shes likes music or someshit

darker color to contrast with charlies, a sun and moon thing going on

made her more moth like by making her hair look like moth wings, fuzzy leg warmers, and antennas (are those even antennas do moths even have antennas)

added a silver like color in her design to match with charlies gold

gave back her stocking from her pilot design and made her hand warmers mirror them

wanted to giver her a hot topic employee look

made her more look like she died in 2014 by giving her the red and black stocking + hand warmer, leg warmers, and making her x asymmetrical

her worm out shorts are suppose to give a 2014 feel but also are like that because moths just eat clothes sometimes

gave her the ribbon on her waist to mimic one of her old designs

her red is the same red in charlies pallet, they match +]

made him purple because i think limiting the main colors to each character is nice also because i think purple is a much more lust full color and to look similar to his old design

made him more spider like by adding an extra pair of eyes, fangs, two more legs and a spider butt lol

made him more fluffy and rounder to giver him a more effeminate/gnc look

gave him eyelashes for the same reason above

gave him a scar on the side that he has the golden tooth and different eyes because i think it would be cool is that was from an injury he had when he was alive

the coat was added so that it looks similar to his suit but still different enough so that not everyone is wearing one

the design on his pider butt and coat are suppose to look like a stylized spiders web

the hearts at the end of his heels are suppose to replicate the end of spiders feet

still kept him relatively skinny because i think he would have one of those arcs were a character starts off skinny but gets fatter to show that they're happy with life

still kept his suit because its such an important part to his character tbh and also so he can mirror charlies pink soft light pink suit with his dark dulled down red suit

gave him a tie so he looks more professional compared to charlies cutie bow tie

dulled down his colors so make him see older and stuck in an era

made him looked aged by giving him grey hairs, stubble, and eye bags

made his deer features more obvious by making his antlers bigger, more deer like ears, giving him a nose pike charlie, and giving him hooves

why alastor got socks on in the pool those are his hooves you bitch

actually made him black

still kept him skinny to give off that sickly skinny look

#🚬.dei.art #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel redesign #charlie morningstar #vaggie hazbin hotel #angel dust #alastor #anti vivziepop #viziepop critical #im probably never going to this again dont worry folks #im going to bed #i think hazbin would be better if is was an early 2000s newground flash series

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seas-storyarchive · 2 months

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redeemed rosie - au

[[MORE]]

Rosie, hell born, was redeemed. This was.. a shock.

"How did this happen?" Charlie asked Emily, after they broke the news during a monthly meeting. The woman was a murderous cannibal. So, how the hell!?

"We have a theory." Sir Pentious said, looking from Charlie to the woman.

"The whole system of Heaven is getting a closer look. Those in the seventh and eigth rings are looking over all records, of those in both Heaven and Hell." Emily said, before looking at Rosie. "Well, congratulations, miss Rosie. You made the cut."

"I'm sssure thisss isss a sssshock, missss. I've made ssssure with thosssse on high that you'll have time to get your affairsssss in order." Oh, how kind of him.

"What if I don't want to go?" Rosie was.. oh goodness, this was a shock to her.

Emily shook her head. "This isn't negotiable, ma'am. We," whe gestured to herself and Sir Pentious, "didn't choose, and you can't get out of it."

Well shit. Rosie sighed. "Alright, alright. I'll.." she paused. "I'll get started."

It took about three weeks, sadly, for those affairs to be in order. Organizing her leave from Cannibal Town, passing off her shop, and saying goodbye to her people - it was hard, although Susan's apearance made it just a tad easier. Oh how she'd miss that "ornery old bitch", as Alastor called her.

Oh.. oh Alastor..

Rosie moved into the hotel, finding out that the news had already spread.

"Congrats on da redemption, toots." Angel raised a glass to her.

"We'll miss you!" Niffy had climbed up her dress, holding her around the neck tightly while crying.

"Oh Niffty, tears don't suit that sweet face, little one." Niffty was cradled by Rosie who wiped her tears.

Husk took Niffty back, looking at her with a sad expression. "See you, eventually."

The hotel shook - oh, you thought Alastor was downstairs and saying goodbye? Nope. In his room throwing a tantrum. That shook the building.

Yup, that was what Husk was afraid of.

"He sounds so sad." Niffty said, looking up the stairs.

He's grieving, Lucifer recognized the pain in the roars - having made many of the same noises when Lilith finally left with Charlie.

"Give him a bit." Lucifer said to them.

"He's out of time!" Charlie snapped. "He's got.. I don't know, 12 hours! He should be down here!"

"Charlotte, doll.." Rosie's voice was heavy. "I.. I think I should go to bed." She smiled. "It's.. been a day."

"Oh, okay Rosie." Charlie said to her. "Uh, call if you need anything."

"Thank you dearie." Rosie said, before leaving up the stairs. Why not use the elevator? She needed to think.

Her mind had been so scrambled, she admitted to herself as she walked about the third floor to her room. 333, funny, really. That holy number. Rosie supposed she'd get used to seeing that eventually.

She entered her room, and closed the door. It was quiet, eerily.

"I know that your in here, Al." She said, her voice shaky as she removed her coat, hanging it up. Seeing the red coat opposite to the hook she was placing her coat on.

Taking her eyes off the coat, to her room, she saw the chair now played host to a man with red deer features, his shadow moving about on the floor. Who seemed to be busying himself with something on the coffee table. Upon walking to it, there was a large bottle of whiskey - huh, unopened, such control with his favorite drink - and two glasses.

"Apologies for not going downstairs." Alastor said, pouring the glasses.

Anger filled Rosie first. "Why weren't you? Look, I know that you're hurting, but that doesn't mean that you get to not say anything!"

Alastor looked up at her, something in his eyes made her stop talking. "I am sorry, Rosie." Apparently he internally said fuck it, and downed some whiskey, before continuing. "I didn't want you to see me and decide this.. thing wasn't for you "

"It's non-negotiable." Rosie said, taking a glass and drinking it as well. "I don't have a choice."

As Alastor poured another glass for himself, snorted.

After another drink, she looked at him curiously and angrily as he put the bottle down. "What?"

"The fact that going to Heaven is a non-negotiable, what a bit of dribble." Alastor said, taking a long drink of his glass.

"I'd say more than a bit." Rosie said, taking another drink. When she finished, she looked at him. "Why are you here?"

Alastor sighed, his glass was empty again, and pulling the bottle up and drinking from it. Long and quick, before he said, "isn't it obvious, I enjoy small talk-"

"Shut your mouth." Rosie took the bottle, taking a swig herself - it's one of her last times with her friend, might as well indulge a bit. She set the bottle back down. "We heard your tantrum from downstairs. You know you'll miss me. Hell, I'll miss you, Alastor!"

He kissed her, having jumped from his seat and kissed her. Rosie pulled him against her, gripping his hair in one hand and shirt in the other.

"Don't leave." Rosie said, against his lips.

"That's," he kissed her again, "supposed to be my line."

"I meant tonight you adorable idiot." Rosie kissed him harder, tasting rye, tasting the flesh of whatever he'd last eaten, tasting him.

"I wasn't planning to." Alastor said, letting her pull him back over her. Wrapping his arms around her for their final embrace. That was all he wanted tonight.

The next morning, it was time for Rosie to go.

Rosie said her goodbyes to everyone - making them all promise to look after Alastor for her.

Their hugs were tearful - Angel didn't know the woman too well but he was upset she was leaving, Husk was losing a good friend, and Niffty was screaming from the top of her lungs. The only partial goodbye was Lucifer.

When they piled into the limo, Alastor accompanied them - being Rosie, himself, Charlie and Vaggie - glued to Rosie's side.

They rode and walked into the builing in silence, Charlie on one side of Rosie, Vaggie on Charlie's other side, and Alastor on Rosie's other side.

When they reached the light that was a pillar to take Rosie to the top, it was time.

"Oh Rosie!" Charlie hugged the woman, who she had learned so much from, holding her tight.

"Hey, hey." Rosie held Charlie, shushing her before they pulled back and she cupped her face. "Where's that strong princess? Hm?" She wiped the tears from Charlie's face.

"I'm gonna miss you!" Charlie said, still crying.

"Oh dearie." Rosie kissed her forehead. "You'll be fine, trust me. You got moxie, a strong heart, and good friends." A smile crossed her lips. "I look forward to hearing about all you've been doing down here." She let her go, and passed her treasured cane with a skull to her.

Charlie looked at it, and then to her.

"Something tells me that you'll make good use of this, darling. Keep your head and sporits up, Princess. You'll be great." Rosie smiled to Charlie as she backed up towards Vaggie, who put her arms on Charlie's shoulders.

"Take care of her, alright? She's gonna need you." Rosie said to her. "All of them will."

Vaggie nodded to her with a smile, squeezing Charlie's shoulders. "I- I promise, ma'am. Thank you, for everything." Vaggie's tears fell silently as she looked at the woman, surprised when she was hugged too. They hugged and when they separated, Vaggie smiled again.

Rosie moved back from them to look at Alastor, the man was stone faced save for his eyes. "Alastor.."

His voice came out as a soft croak, "Rosie.."

Who hugged who first, they'll never know. Both holding each other tight, both taking in each other's scents for the final time - him of metal and ink lined book pages, her of roses and vanilla. His tears falling into her hat, hers soaking into his jacket.

When they pulled back - Rosie pulled him into a deep kiss, which surprised him at first, before he relaxed into it. He'd later deny that one of his feet raised and the sight of something moving about under his jacket above the coat tail.

They separated again, their eyes locked together.

"I want you to promise me something, Alastor." Rosie said softly, reaching a hand up to touch his face.

"Anything." Alastor said just as softly, leaning into her hand.

"I want you to try this redemption thing." Rosie said to him. "I want you to promise me that you'll give this a try."

Alastor, after a moment, nodded to her, and quietly saying, "I'll try."

"That's my love." Rosie said softly, giving him another kiss, before fully breaking away, and backing away from him slowly as she said, "look after them, okay, Alastor? Let them in, let yourself heal."

Alastor nodded, his claws running across the sleeves of her dress but not catching as much as he desired to. "I.. I love you." He said, finding his voice, when it was just their hands connected now.

"I love you too, my dear deer." Rosie said, letting go of his hands, letting them run along each other as she stepped into the pillar of light.

And soon, she was gone.

Vaggie looked from Charlie, who was wiping her eyes, to Alastor, who was staring at the pillar. Staying quiet, giving the two a moment.

"Guys, we should go home now." Charlie said, after a few minutes of silence.

"I.." Alastor's words died in his throat, before wordlessly following the two.

Charlie was hurting, gripping the cane as she tried to keep it together. Vaggie was sad and trying to find words of comfort. The two were looking from each other to Alastor.

Alastor was stting there, quietly staring at his hands.

"Alastor.." Charlie put a hand on his, only to feel a tear hit it. When Charlie hugged Alastor, the man started to sob.

Vaggie said nothing, just watched, with a sympathetic frown on her face.

Rosie had been given a warm welcome and an apartment in Heaven. A cozy little place. Bedroom, bathroom, living room, small kitchenette. Her favorite feature was a small radio on the counter. When she looked at it, she noticed the dials - 1890, 1900, 1910, 1920, 1930.

Hmm.

She turned it on, and a familiar voice came through the radio.

"Welcome, residents of Big Easy, New Orleans. It's your radio host Alastor, on for another evening shift. Sit back, relax, and let this classic track from Buddy Bolden fill your souls."

An old radio show, but oh it warmed Rosie's soul to hear Alastor.

After a few days, Rosie was walking through a park, seeing a dark skinned woman with a short cut curled afro sitting on a bench. "Pardon me, miss. Is the other half taken, or.."

The woman shook her head, smiling, moving her bag. "Non, miss. You do be feelin' free to sit here, if you'd like."

"Why thank you." Rosie smiled as she sat down, taking in the view of famies in the park. "It's.. sad, really. Seein' kids, up here." And she came from hell, so that was.. saying something.

"That it is." The woman's voice made Rosie turn to her, looking at the families around her, love and loss mixing in her eyes and a frown on her face.

"Hey, turn that frown upside down." Rosie said with a smile, the woman turning to look at her. "A friend of mine, he always used to say, that you're-"

"Never truly dressed without a smile."

The two were surprised, but Rosie told herself it had to be a coincidence. And then, she forgot her manners. Tsk, Alastor had rubbed off on her, it seemed.

"Pardon my manners, miss. My name is Rosie Hunt." She offered a hand to the woman.

The woman smiled at her, taking her hand, "Lenora Dupuis."

D.. Dupuis!?

"Uh, pardon my askin', but um.. are you related to a charmin' fella by the name ah Alastor Dupuis."

Lenora's eyes widened as well. "If he be about six foot, unruly light curls in his hair that he keeps straight'ned, and speaks in a white man's accent for dah radio, than yes. That would be mah son."

Tall, hair that's naturally curly but he straightens it, and a voice made for-

"I.. I know him." Rosie couldn't stop herself, finding that she wasn't alone and that Alastor had family here was - oh she wasn't about to stop talking to this woman.

"You knew mah son?" Lenora wanted to know more. "Where is he? Is he alright?"

Rosie could just hear the record scratching. "Yes, I- I was very close with him. He's alright. Um, he's.. he's in hell." At the heartbroken look on this woman's face, Rosie quickly said, "but he's in a rehabilitation center for sinners that want to come up here!"

That seemed to calm this woman. "So.." she paused. "How did you know my son, miss?"

"Oh, it's.. complicated. I mean! Oh, where to start.." Rosie took a breath. "We were friends for the longest time. And then.. I fell in love with him, somewhere along the line. And.." she sighed. "As I was leaving.."

"Yes, cher?" Lenora asked, with baited breath.

"We kissed. And.. he told me that he loves me." Rosie said. "He loves me, can you believe it?" She asked the woman who would know Alastor best.

Lenora smiled, a wide grin - no where near where Alastor's stretched, but just the same - and it made Rosie smile too. "I do believe it, cher." She laughed. "I do, indeed." She laughed until she cried. "My boy, mon petit faon, he found love."

Rosie waited until Lenora stopped crying, watching as she pulled a tissue from her pocket and dab her eyes.

Maybe this could be a great friendship, between the two - she'd always wanted to know more about Alastor. They could trade stories and such, get to know each other.

Alastor, after a few days, walked out of his room. He was hungry, tired, had a headache. But he still wanted to bring something up to Charlie.

Alastor began, grabbing a serving of macaroni and some meat that looked edible from the fridge, trying to figure out how to work the microwave.

"Hey Al." It was Charlotte, who was smiling at him - before seeing what he was doing. "Oh, here let me help you." She put the dish in a position where it would heat up the most amount of food, started it and the she turned to the man.

"Are you.. um, how are you?"

Alastor sighed. "Honestly? Not in top shape."

Charlie nodded. "I understand." She smiled. "But hey," she put a hand on his, "let's take it one day at a time."

Alastor nodded. "Oh, and um.. I was wondering.." he took a deep breath. Well, now or never.

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering.. how one actually gets this redemption process started."

Charlie's mouth dropped open as the microwave dinged.

"Um.. we'll get started after you eat, okay?" Charlie stepped aside, letting the man get to his food, seeing Vaggie walking by, and saying to Alastor. "Uh, I'll let you eat in peace."

As Alastor tucked in, Charlie pulled Vaggie aside. "Hey, Vaggie.."

"What? Did he say something?" Vaggie summoned her spear.

"No.. he.." she sighed. "He wants to be redeemed."

Vaggie dropped her spear. "Are you sure?"

Charlie nodded to her. "Yes. I think Rosie being redeemed, it changed him. He wants to make that change."

"You're serious?"

Charlie nodded. "Yes."

#redeemed rosie au #hazbin hotel #light radiorose #ofc its radiorose #radiorose #hazbin rosie #hazbin au #hazbin alastor #alastor x rosie

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syddsatyrn · 2 months

Text

Je t'aime Violet

By Sydd Satyrn

Chapter 1 ⛧ Chaper 2 ⛧ Chapter 3 ⛧

⛧Pairing: - Alastor x OC!Reader Violet

⛧Warnings: Drinking, smoking, swearing, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, adult themes, smut, P in V, sexual themes 18+ not for minors

⛧Words: 1.8k

⛧Fic playlist: Click here!

⛧Summary: Hello ladies, gentleman and nonbinary friends! I present to you, my series Je t'aime Violet. This story is staring my OC, Violet! She is a deer demon containing a lot of personality. With a gifted voice and a bit of jazz, she's got style and class on lock. After 7 years, Violet and Alastor's feelings towards each other never dissolved. Violet reconnects with the man who left with her heart, will she forgive him? Does Alastor have the ability to set his pride aside for love?

⛧Notes: @hellfiremunsonn is my lovely beta reader.

⛧Chapter 3: Under My Skin

Stirring in your sleep slightly you feel warmth radiating from behind you. A pair of arms holds you close and you fight your heavy eyelids. Your eyes slowly open and you roll over slowly to see a sleeping Alastor curled up behind you. Your face turns several shades of red, why are you so shocked? It's not like you two haven't slept in the same bed before.

Alastor’s usual composed demeanor was softened in slumber, his features relaxed in the gentle morning light filtering through the curtains. You couldn't help but reach out and brush a stray strand of hair from his face, marveling at the contrast between the ruthless demon he presented to the world and the man who lay beside you now. The memories come flooding back in from the previous night and the conversation you both had. Alastor stirred awake with a soft murmur, his sleepy scarlet eyes meeting yours. “Don’t go…” He says, barely above a whisper. You smile and wrap your arms around him, he presses his forehead to yours. “I’m not going anywhere.” You whisper softly and he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. Alastor's eyes held a mixture of relief and longing as he gazed at you, his fingers tracing absent-minded patterns on your back. Your ears sit flat, you almost fall back asleep, his heartbeat and body heat lulling you back to slumber. Suddenly a loud knock accompanied by an even louder voice. “Alastor! Open up! It's me!” Mimzy says interrupting your peaceful sanctuary.

Alastor roused from his slumber at the sound of Mimzy's voice, his expression shifting from contentment to annoyance. Reluctantly, he disentangled himself from you and grabbed his long red robe, wrapping it around himself and tying it in the middle. He’s muttering under his breath about unwanted interruptions. You couldn't help but chuckle softly at his grumbling.

As Alastor opened the door, Mimzy barged in with her usual exuberance. Her eyes widening in surprise as she caught sight of you still in his bed, barely awake. "Well, well, well! Look who decided to drop by," she said with a mischievous grin. Alastor shot her a warning glare before turning his attention back to you.

"Can't a demon have a peaceful morning without you barging in, Mimzy?" Alastor quipped, though there was no real malice in his tone. Mimzy simply laughed and flopped down on the couch, making herself at home. “Violet, Its good to see you, doll! I heard you had a show tonight at the Brimstone lounge?” She asks and your eyes get wide, you sit up fully and recall the conversation you had with the owner last week. “Oh dear, It slipped my mind completely. But I will be there! Thank goodness you said something.” You reply, and hold out your hand to Alastor. “Would you care to join me as my guest tonight?” Violet asks,

a mischievous glint in your eye. Alastor's lips curled into a genuine smile as he took your hand, his touch sending a comforting warmth through you. "I would be delighted to accompany you, mon cheri." he replied graciously and gently pressed his lips to your hand. Mimzy clapped her hands in excitement, already planning the evening ahead. You’ve known Mimzy for a long time. Both of you work for the jazz, burlesque, and cabaret clubs in the city. A long while back Alastor had introduced you two and you both hit it off immediately. “I came here to invite Alastor out, but it looks like ya beat me to it, toots.” Mimzy says with a laugh. “It's good to see you two together again.” You smiled at her when you realized she was trying to set you two up. You finally get out of bed and give her a hug. “Well, I won't keep you, I’m sure you two are very busy.” Mimzy teases once again. “I’ll see you two love birds tonight!”

As Mimzy left, you turned back to Alastor with a sheepish smile. "She certainly knows how to stir things up, doesn't she?" Alastor chuckled softly, his eyes full of warmth as he gazed at you. "Indeed she does, but I must admit I am grateful for her interruption. It gave me an excuse to spend more time in your company." He says, taking a few steps closer to you. He tugs on your sweater, pulling you closer. “You of all people don’t need an excuse.” You reply with a playful tone as Alastor leans in and kisses you. Your arms wrap around his neck and you stand on your tip-toes. You smile against his lips and giggle at the radio demon's sudden display of affection.

The day passed in a blur of preparations for your show at the lounge. Alastor proved to be extremely helpful, assisting you with everything from selecting the perfect outfit to helping you with your setlist. Alastor wore a suit and you wore one of your best cocktail dresses. With your arm around him you both enter the dimly lit lounge, the place was thick with cigarette smoke and the smooth melodies of a jazz band. Soft amber lights cast shadows that danced across the walls. There were busy waiters, many conversations and glasses clinking. It is a rather busy night, which makes you a little nervous. Alastor guided you to a reserved table near the stage, his hand warm against the small of your back. As you settled into your seats, the anticipation of the night ahead began to build within you. Alastor's presence beside you was a grounding force, his scarlet eyes fixed on you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. The jazz band started playing again, filling the room with alluring melodies that set the perfect ambiance for your performance. One of the staff members approaches you and asks you to come backstage to set up. They have a couple questions about your prop. You squeeze Alastor’s hand. He gives you an encouraging smile and a nod. The staff members were bustling around, making final preparations for the rest of the evening's performances. “This is enough water, right?” The gentleman asks, he gestures to the giant martini glass. You inspect it, and it looks good from what you can see. “Yes, this seems about right.” You answer, a couple of staff members push a rolling set of stairs behind it, they lock the wheels in place and take off to the next task. You head to your dressing room to get changed. Just as you finish putting on the final touches, there is a knock at the door. “You’re on in five, Miss Violet.” Says the voice on the other side. “Thank you!” The band was playing a soulful tune, setting the stage for your grand entrance. As you stepped out onto the stage, the spotlight illuminated you in a soft glow, casting a enchanting aura around you. The music swelled and the purple velvet curtains open. You wave at the crowd as everyone hollers, cheers and claps. You walk up to the microphone and take a deep breath. “I've got you under my skinI've got you, deep in the heart of meSo deep in my heart that you're really a part of meI've got you under my skin”

Your voice filled the room, some people whistled and other sat quietly. You remove the silk robe and toss it somewhere on stage, revealing your outfit. “I'd tried so, not to give inI said to myself this affair never will go so wellBut why should I try to resist when baby I know so wellI've got you under my skin” You slowly shed your left glove, one finger at a time, then the right, they fall to the floor. Your eyes lock onto Alastor’s, a visible red tint spreads across his face. He forgot that over the years you’ve perfected your shows, now you are more enticing as ever. “Don't you know, little foolYou never can winUse your mentalityWake up to realityBut each time that I do just the thought of youMakes me stop before I begin'Cause I've got you under my skin”You make your way to the set of stairs behind your giant martini glass and take a seat when you reach the top. The band continues to play as you slowly slide into the glass. Its a little cold but you get used to it quickly. As you recline in the giant martini glass, you pose your legs in different appealing positions. You splash the water around and you position you elbows on the edge of the glass to support yourself. A Stage hand walks over and grabs the mic and proceeds to hand it to you.

“Oh my love, I've got you under my skinI've got you, deep in the heart of meSo deep in my heart that you're really a part of meI've got you under my skin”

As the final chords of the song echo through the lounge, a wave of applause erupts from the audience. There is a radiant smile on your face as you wave to the crowd. You give Alastor a playful wink and the curtain closes. He had forgotten just how much he adored your voice, and your body was as alluring as ever. He feels like an utter fool, letting you go was clearly one of his biggest mistakes.

You went to the back to change into the dry clothes you came in with, you felt like you did really well, despite having Alastor’s eyes on you all night. Some of the staff waved as you left, this club has always been a pleasant place to work. When you exit the stage, Alastor is waiting there, his hand extended. His gaze never leaves you as he leads you back to the table. "You were absolutely stunning, my dear," he praised, leaning in to place a tender kiss on your cheek. You take a seat and he does the same. He wraps his arm around your waist as he sees others staring, some look rather angry. Alastor paid them no mind, really. One of his past times is irritating others and reveling in their jealousy. A sinister smirk on his face as you sit and chat with Mimzy for a moment. After a couple of drinks, Alastor starts to get a little handsy. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and scratches behind your fluffy ears. He plays with your hair and whispers compliments in your ear for the next hour. You both watched the remaining performers along with the Jazz band finish out the night. As the lounge began to empty out and the lights dimmed low, Alastor offered you his arm once again. “Shall we return to the hotel?” ——————————— Somewhere along the way home he said all the right things and made all the right moves because you were both making out in the hallway. He clumsily leads you back to his room while his tongue traced your bottom lip and entered your mouth.

As you stumble into his room, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you enveloped in desire. The air is charged with anticipation as he pulls you closer, his touch sending shivers down your spine. The room is dimly lit, casting shadows that dance across his face, making him look hungry and dangerous. Your heart races as his hands explore every inch of your body, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you both. In that moment, nothing else matters but the raw connection you share with him. Alastor’s hands find the zipper on your dress, the straps fall down the shoulders and you let the garment fall to your hips.

His fingers trace your neck and shoulders, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He plants tender kisses along your jaw and collarbone. Every part of you tingles in anticipation. Alastor's hands roam over your curves, exploring the curves he hadn't seen in years. His mouth traces a path down your chest and stomach, making its way to the black lace of your bra. Alastor removes it carefully,

his hands snake down to your hips before pulling off your dress completely, leaving you in just your matching black panties and stockings. He slowly leads you to his bed, you kick off your shoes and climb into bed, Alastor craws on top of you. Your heart races as he brushes his hardness against you, his hands move up to cup your face gently as he kisses you deeply yet again. You loosen his tie and begin to unbutton his shirt, reveling in the sight of his skin

you can't help but run your hands over. He sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes darkening, his horns grow as he gazes at you hungrily.

Alastor's hands reach for the button on his pants, and with a deft touch, he unfastens it. He pushes his pants down, revealing his hardness underneath. Your eyes lock onto it, and a moment of hesitation passes between you both. “Alastor?” You say his name softly and he hums in response. “I want you so bad…Please…” You whine and he pulls off your panties slowly, admiring every curve and stroke along the way. “Patience my dear, I truly missed this, you’ll have to excuse my indulgence. His fingers brush against your clit and you gasp at the sensation, moaning loudly as he takes it into his mouth. He sucks on it gently, causing nearby candles to flare. His ears flick and his tail twitches once he tastes you. You feel his tongue dance around it teasingly before slowly sliding two fingers inside of you. You moan loudly followed by something that sounds like his name.

You grasp the sheets tightly, unable to contain yourself as his tongue laps up every drop. Each movement of his lips and fingers elicits more whimpers and gasps from you. Your thighs shake slightly, desperately wanting more of him.

You can feel the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance now, teasing it before slowly pushing inside of you. Alastor's deep red eyes lock onto yours, every inch of him claiming you as his own. You gasp as he starts moving in and out of you in a slow rhythm that mirrors his breathing. The bed creaks underneath you both as he thrusts deeper inside, hitting that perfect spot inside of you with each stroke that makes you cry. Your arms wrap around his neck as you let out another lewd moan. “I’ve missed this, Violet. You’ve always been a good pet. ”He says in you ear, Alastor's voice is like honey, deep and smooth as he speaks to you. He had a commanding presence, like a predator stalking its prey, and yet there was also a tenderness in his touch. His words were like sweet poison and you’re desperate for more.

As Alastor continues to pound into you, his hips slapping against yours. Every thrust sends a wave of pleasure through you, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you lose yourself in the sensation. You can feel your climax building, your walls clenching around his length as you beg him to go faster.

"Oh gods... Alastor!" You scream out, your voice shaking with passion as hot white-hot pleasure washes over you. He growls low in his throat, taking advantage of your desperation and driving even deeper into you with every stroke. Your body tightens around him again and again as waves of pleasure roll through you. Moments later, Alastor cums inside of you with a groan followed by another low growl. He fills you up, his forehead resting on your shoulder as he tries to ride out the rest of his high. “Fuck…” He says as he tries to catch his breath. He doesn’t swear very often so when he does, its rather funny. You lay in his arms panting, attempting to catch your breath. Alastor cups you cheek, stroking it with his thumb. "You're simply breathtaking, Violet," he whispered, his voice rough and full of static. Your fingers card through his hair and you both take a moment to recover in each other's arms. Alastor slowly pulls out of you and your breath hitched. Alastor reluctantly removes himself and your muscles relax against the mattress. You both clean yourselves up, he crawls into bed with you and pulls the covers over your body. Alastor curls up behind you and kisses the top of your head. "It's been a long time, Violet," Alastor says, tracing his fingers lightly down your cheek.

“Well…you know what they say” You reply just barely above a whisper. "The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of meeting again."

#hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin #alastor radio demon #alastor smut #demon alastor #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel series #alastor x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #alastor x oc

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starrclown · 4 months

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☆ Redesign Time: Nifty, the lovable and SUCH A WASTE OF POTENTIAL ☆

(Sorry that title got aggressive. New series though! I now have, Have Tea With Me and Redesign Time.)

Ahoy Matey's, we are here to talk about my favorite Hazbin Hotel character. Yes, Nifty is my favorite. I've loved her ever since she stepped into the pilot. She's just so fun and silly and God I love her so much. But litteraly no one cares about her and that bothers me SO much. Like no one talks about her unless Alastor and Husk are involved. There is little to no merch of her. It's just so depressing man. But I love this little bug alien and I wanna rewrite her a story and redesign her cause her design is just not it.

(Also I wanna clarify something. With any redesigns and rewrites I do, they can change. Hazbin hasn't come out yet as of time of writing so Nifty may actually get a story. Maybe. I severely doubt it. These designs are for fun and fun only. I do genuinely like Hazbin Hotel and want it to succeed. This also isn't a attack on Vivziepop or SpindleHorse productions. Vivzie has been accused of alot but I'm not touching up on that. These designs are for fun and my own personal spin on things. Please don't harass me. Seriously artists have been harassed for redesigns and it's actually sickening. These are for fun, don't take it personally. ALSO!! DO NOT TRY TO ANIMATE THESE. I don't want no comments about how these are not animation friendly. I know. These are just showing of my level of art and a coherent story. Cool? Cool.)

☆Nifty's Redesign!!

Nifty's cannon design is just not it. Let's play a game. What is Nifty?

Nifty, Wiki confirmed, is supposed to be a reference to bugs and aliens. Where? Besides her arms and legs Nifty has no bug features. Nifty also died in the 50's. Can you tell? No, you can't. Nifty is nothing like what she is described. That's the issue with most of the designs of Vivzie. They are nothing like how they are described. I've seen a couple of times that people didn't know that Alstor was supposed to be a deer, Vaggie is a moth, Charlie is based of dolls and goats, and Angel is a spider from the 40's. Nifty's design needs touching up, so let me show you my design!!

(I'm iffy on this. I think there are things I can improve)

She's a little lady!! Let me explain certain parts of my design.

1. Hair. Curled hair was a big thing in the 50's. Nifty is cannonically Japanese so she would probably curl her hair. I wanted her hair to be this messy curly/wavy mop. Why is Nifty's hair fire colored? I thought it was so cool when Nifty came through the fire. In my rewrite I want fire to be a part of Nifty. (You'll see in a little bit.) I also gave her antennas.

2. Face. I changed Nifty to green to give her a bug/alien type feel. I gave her small little bug choppers and red rosy cheeks. I kept her one eye cause it makes her face stand out.

3. Clothing. I might have to change her clothes but I think I did a decently good job with her clothing. I gave her a apron with stitches to symbolize her obsession with chores. I gave her gloves because she's also the cook. I made her dress blue instead of red to contrast her hair and it makes her dress pop.

4. Bug features. Nifty now has antennas that move along with her emotions. She has her bug choppers, I gave her more bug like legs and arms, and finally, wings. There small so I imagine she can fly for small amounts of time.

I just wanted Nifty to feel more bug like. I also wanted her 50's background to shine through!!

(I cut out a whole section on her human life cause I want to save that until I get the main cast done.)

Feel free to leave criticism in the comments. I actually really like certain parts if the design!! Nifty deserves SO much better than Hazbin has given her and I'm here to deliver it!!

(I don't know what will be next. It could be tea time or another redesign. A fic if mine is almost is finished though so if your interested check it out)

😘🫶

- ⭐️StarClown⭐️

#artwork #digital art #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critique #hazbin hotel redesign #Nifty redesign #hazbin hotel art #hazbin hotel rewrite #hazbin hotel critical #i love Nifty so much guys #shes so silly

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f4ll-for-you · 1 year

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Wanna Be Yours | Modern Aemond AU

Aemond x Best Friend Reader

Warnings: literally just fluff, Aegon being Aegon

As always, thank you to my bestie @arcielee for beta reading this for me. You are the best & ilysm

Aemond, the cool, mysterious guy on campus, completely different from his loud and obnoxious brother, Aegon. Aemond's not shy, but he isn't talkative either, only making the conversation needed, never going out of his way to make small talk.

That’s how he became your best friend, sitting together in the library, enjoying the comfortable silence.

You’d occasionally help each other with essays, as you’d both realised after a few months that you took similar classes, they just happened to be at different times due to Aemond being the year below you.

You’d know of him for a while, often crossing paths with his annoying - but ridiculously hot, frat boy brother Aegon, who’d taken the same photography class as you.

The pair of you bonded over your mutual dislike for Aegon and his lifestyle. Distancing yourself from the party side of campus and enjoying the peace and quiet of the library on a Saturday evening.

That was until your friend Baela convinced you to go to the end of term frat party, begging you to keep her company. She wasn’t much of a party girl either, but apparently missing the ‘party of the year’ was a disgrace.

You rolled your eyes and reluctantly agreed, dragging Aemond along with you for support. At least you’d be miserable together.

Upon arriving, you instantly regret your decision. The house was packed and your anxiety through the roof. You didn’t know these people, and from the events in front of you, you didn’t want to.

Everyone had clearly been drinking for hours before you got there.

Forcing your worry at bay, you grabbed Aemond’s hand and made your way towards the kitchen for drinks, losing Baela to her long term crush Jace on the way. You rolled your eyes at Aemond who smiled back. “Are you really surprised?” He spoke, smirking. You shook your head in response, making your way into the kitchen.

The smell of alcohol hit your senses as you walked into the room, various concoctions abandoned over every counter. “You came!” A voice you both knew all too well bellowing behind you. Now it was Aemonds turn to roll his eyes.

“Aegon,” Aemond responded to his brother grumpily.

“Let me make you some drinks,” Aegon grabbed two red cups before you could refuse. Aemond sighed, already planning to pour whatever Aegon would make down the sink as soon as he was out of sight.

“Looking good tonight Y/N,” Aegon smiled, making you blush heavily.

“Not too bad yourself, Targaryen,” you replied, making Aemond want to throw up in his mouth.

Although you’d always thought Aegon attractive, Aemond was the brother you’d fallen for. Not that you’d ever admit that.

Aegon handed you a shot each, grinning with already hazy eyes.

“Fuck it,” you spoke as you downed your shot, wincing at the burn in your throat.

Several shots later, you began to feel the buzz of alcohol settling in as you took in Aemond’s features.

You couldn’t help but stare as the alcohol pushed away your previous anxieties, Aemond’s lips looking all too inviting.

“Hopefully that will give you some confidence with your girl, brother,” Aegon teased, making Aemond glare at him.

Your face immediately went red, staring at Aegon like a deer in headlights. Aegon looked at you, confused for a moment. “What, you mean she really doesn’t know?”

“Aegon,” Aemond warned his brother, anger filling his eyes.

“Wow, guess she’s free then, I don’t have to worry about doing this” Aegon retorted, grabbing your hand and pulling you away from Aemond before you could register what was happening.

You held Aegon's hand as he walked you through the party, with everyone’s eyes on you and the frat king.

Registering what had happened, you pulled your hand away from Aegon’s angrily. “Aegon, what the fuck,” you shouted, your outburst causing more people to stare.

“Shut up and come with me okay” he spoke, grabbing your hand once more. “I’m doing you a favour.”

You looked confused but followed along with whatever plan Aegon had, the shots clearly clouding your judgment.

Within a few moments you were on a quiet deck at the back of the house, free from loud music and drunk college students.

“Aegon, what was that,” you demanded as he flopped down on an outdoor sofa.

“You don’t know?” He questioned, clearly amused by your confusion.

“Enlighten me,” you sat down next to him.

“My brother has been in love with you for as long as he’s known you.”

Your cheeks instantly heat up at Aegon's words. Shaking your head involuntarily. “No he doesn’t, we’re friends, best friends,” you insisted.

Aegon laughed unkindly.

“Y/N, the way my brother looks at you does not imply he sees you as ‘just friends’,” Aegon states, almost spilling his drinks at the air quotes he imitates.

“Then why wouldn’t he tell me,” you almost whisper. You feel confused, embarrassed that you didn’t notice all this time.

“Because…he’s a pussy,” Aegon spoke nonchalantly, making you hit him gently.

“Wait, if he likes me, why are you making him think we’re getting together right now?”

Aegon only shakes his head in response, disappointed at your naïveté.

“I’m making him jealous,” Aegon looks directly at you, “it’s the only way he’ll confess his true feelings.”

Instead, you stand up to find Aemond, to apologise to him for everything, for making him think that you’d choose his brother over him.

“Wait,” Aegon pulls your arm. “Give it a couple more minutes, you need to get him really riled up, trust me.”

You sit in silence with Aegon, watching the clock on your phone as you wait.

“I’m going,” you state after five minutes. Aegon only smiles. “See ya sister-in-law,” he shouts as you walk away.

It takes several minutes before you locate Aemond. He left the messy, people covered house, and was sitting on the curb outside.

“Aem,” you try to shout, suddenly feeling awkward about the situation.

Aemond turns around immediately at the sound of your voice, standing up from his seat on the pavement.

You look beautiful, your dress showing your figure perfectly, your hair cascading down your shoulders.

Your eyes light up from the glow of the party indoors and he wonders why he hasn’t done this sooner.

He walks towards you quickly, meeting you in the middle of the driveway as he immediately cups your face, taking a moment to look into your eyes before crashing his lips into yours.

You immediately mould into him, the taste of sweet alcohol on his lips and you can’t help but smile into the kiss.

The pair of you pull away for a second, both grinning. You don’t need to speak, your eyes say everything you both feel.

“He’s still a twat,” Aemond breaks the silence, the smile not leaving his face.

“Yeah, but I guess he was right just this once,” you reply.

“Let’s go home,” Aemond says, before taking your hand in his.

#aemond x you #house of the dragon #modern aemond #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen #aemond fic #hotd aemond #aemond fluff #aemond x fem!reader #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x y/n #prince aemond

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happyfoxx-art · 8 months

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An untitled oneshot featuring my dragon oc and his princess uwu

TW/ Blood, injury. uhh i think that's all that you should know.

this was a lil thing I wrote to shake off the rust! It's been a LONG time since i wrote anything with ocs. Let me know if you enjoy!

Alphonse was in trouble.

That much was clear, from the cluster of knights scuttling around the perimeter of the barn, yelling that they would be in soon. Blood spattered the dirt at Theo’s feet, painting the grass crimson. “We’ve got it cornered men- it’s hurt, we’ll be able to get rid of it for good this time!” the captain called. A log had been brought to try and break down the door. “Steel yourselves! It’s killed it’s last-”

“STOP!” Theo finally shouted, striding forward with a confidence that was almost entirely a fabrication. The Captain, to his credit, only looked startled for half a second.

He put a hand up to quiet the contingent of men. “Princess Theodosia, what are you doing here? Where is your guard-”

“My guard is- is in trouble. A man- a group of men tried to assault me three streets over- Alphonse sent me to find help.” She pointed urgently back towards the town. “He’s going to be overwhelmed, please. If- If the dragon is hurt I’m sure it won’t go anywhere while you go and aid-”

“Of course, highness,” the Captain agreed easily. He gestured and the knights started to hustle off before Theo’s wide eyes. “I can leave some guards-”

“NO!” Theo startled herself with her own voice. Deep breath, Theo. Calm, cool, collected. “I- I mean. No. That- That is alright- there’s no one here. Just- go help Alphonse, please. I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens to him-”

The Captain looked at her for a long moment, then settled upon setting the bar across the barn doors. “Alright. Stay out of sight and do not touch this. This thing has brought enough misfortune upon the kingdom. We will be back shortly to take care of it.”

Theo nodded very convincingly, her puff pigtails bouncing with the rigorous movement , giving a polite bow to the Captain as he rallied his knights and rushed off. Once they were out of earshot she waited all of 30 seconds before hauling the bar off the barn door. Pulling at the door she found it gave- the dragon must have moved further inside now. She sidled the door open and slipped inside.

The barn was dark, the windows blessedly closed to prying eyes. Theo wasn’t sure who owned this barn exactly, it could very well be on her family's land for all she knew. She hoped so. Less chance of getting interrupted again.

The smell of blood was strong, metallic and sickening. Spatters of it stained the wood at her feet, painted the inside of the door, showing that he'd used his body to keep it shut for a time. “Alphonse,” Theo whispered, edging forward through the dark. “Alphonse, can you hear me?”

In response she got a frantic scrabbling sound from the back corner of the barn. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, the hulking form of the dragon- of Alphonse curled into pile of loose hay became clear. The soft lilac downy feathers that covered his body were stained red, hay sticking tp him where he was too wet with fresh blood. His eyes, probably much better adjusted to the dark than Theodosia’s, didn’t have that hint of intelligence she’d learned to watch for. No recognition crossed his face even as she edged closer, her hands outstretched to try and show she wasn’t a threat.

A feral snarl loud enough to shake Theo’s bones escaped from his throat when he decided she was getting too close. She froze, trying not to shake. He wouldn’t hurt her, right? Under all the fear and pain, that was still Alphonse. That still had to be Alphonse. She kept still as she looked him over. This was the longest she’d been able to get a look at him like this.

Golden orange eyes stared at her down a broad muzzle, one side of his face plastered in blood. A cut over his eyebrow. A pair of autumn colored rams horns, curled elegantly around the long deer like ears on the sides of his face. They flicked here an there. Wicked claws of the same color as his horns, digging at the soft dirt floor of the barn, leaving deep gouges in the earth. Long feathers, almost like fur trailed from the top of his head down his spine to his tail that whipped back and forth in agitation. Darker purple marks outlined the lilac saddle shaped marking, and his feet, the rest of him giving way to a near white shade of amethyst.

A couple arrows stuck awkwardly out of the side of his long neck, but they were only bleeding lazily so they must have missed anything too important. Another arrow stuck out of his front leg- arm? - and a myriad of shallow grazes trailed up his shoulder.

Theo allowed herself a quiet breath out. It wasn’t that bad. He wasn’t actively dying, not right now. “They’re gone,” she whispered. “They’re gone but they’re going to come back. We need to get you out of here, Alphonse.”

Lips pulled back to show sharp teeth, a long slow hiss. Theo didn’t move. After a few moments of a staring contest, Alphonse snorted at her and turned his attention back to himself. Teeth parted to try and grip the arrow planted in his leg.

“No wait- don’t-” Theo began, but before she could get far the arrow snapped between his jaws like a toothpick and a cry of pain escaped. His attention whipped back around to Theo, as she’d moved closer in her desire to prevent him from making things worse. He started to move to get up, all his body language screaming stay away.

They froze again, both of them this time. Alphonse, halfway to his feet again, his wings held out to appear larger. His feathers puffing up, his teeth bared. Theo, her hands out once again, her chest tight with anxiety. They stood there for what felt like an eternity.

Theodosia slowly, slowly, lowered her hands. “We do not have time for this,” she breathed out, then took a step forward. Alphonse clicked alarmedly, skittering backwards into the corner further. “You are hurt. We need to leave. Now, Alphonse. Please.”

Her shoes crunched hay beneath them and finally the dragon jerked forward and let out a scratchy, terrible roar right in her face. His breath was hot with threatened flames, sparks at the back of his throat. Theo scrunched up her face and gathered her courage.

When he began to quiet, she drew herself up. “Do not shout at me! If you’d have listened to me in the first place we wouldn’t be in this mess! Now pull yourself together so your friends don’t come back here and finish you off!” she yelled back, her fists balling up.

She waited for him to respond, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Waited for him to bite her head off or something equally horrible. But it never came. Instead, she felt the smallest nudge against her forehead, and warm breath ruffled her hair once again. Soft this time.

Theo opened her eyes and looked up. The darkness in his eyes had receded, thoughts overtaking instincts once again. He definitely looked confused, though.

Despite herself, tears welled up in Theo’s brown eyes and she grabbed hold of his muzzle, pulling his head close. “Idiot,” she murmured. “I’ll start by shouting next time.”

The journey back to the palace was simpler than Theo felt like it should have been. Clinging to Alphonse’s back, her fists wrapped around wads of the thick, long feathers along his spine, he’d ran through back alleys as fast as he could with his injuries. Finding a space in the orchards storehouse had been easy. No one was there this time of year.

Theo stood at the door once again, praying her dragon had not lost himself again in the time it had taken for her to slip into the infirmary and gather the needed materials. She had no idea what would happen when he turned back into himself. How would the injuries translate? The arrows piercing his neck concerned her the most- as a dragon he had a lot more muscle and space to have not hit anything important.

He didn’t have that luxury as a human. They needed to hurry.

The door creaked as it opened and warm light filtered into the small building. Alphonse barely fit into it, tucked carefully in on himself. She found him delicately licking at the snapped arrow in his arm, his head laid fully on the floor. He glanced up at her, and had the wherewithal to look sheepish at being caught in the act.

Okay, so not quite all there, but at least not going to bite at her for treating his wounds.

No longer backed into a corner, waiting for knights to execute him, the adrenaline seemed to be fading. He looked so tired.

Theo stepped inside, leaving the door open so she’d have enough light to work. She set the bag she’d brought before him, and kneeled in front of his large paws.

“Are you there?” she asked plainly. He clicked softly, and began to nod before stopping with a quiet whine. He closed his eyes and lulled his head to the side a bit, as if asking for her to get on with it. Theo let out a breath. “That hurts, doesn’t it,” she murmured, leaning forward slowly with gentle hands to probe about his neck.

He grumbled quietly, but didn’t move. She easily found his pulse, blessedly distant from the injuries. “They didn’t get your jugular,” she finally announced. “It’s just muscle.” A beat of silence, her hand pressed against his neck, feeling his pulse against her palm. “I.. I’ll do my best, Alphonse, but I’m not any sort of doctor or healer…”

A noise a bit like a hum. She pressed her lips together and went through the supplies she’d brought. A needle and thread, some alcohol, a knife. Bandages. Clothes for when he hopefully changed back soon but not too soon. They still hadn’t figured out what triggered the shift. In either direction.

“Alright, do you… want me to count? Or just get it over with?” she asked, holding up the bottle of alcohol. Alphonse clicked twice. Option two then. “Okay. Okay, okay…” Theo figured the ones in the neck would be the worst. In silence, she cut the arrows down to make them a bit easier to work on, worked herself around his long neck to get a better angle, realized she was stalling, and poured alcohol over her hands to hopefully keep everything clean.

The first arrow felt like an ordeal all on its own. Delicately using the knife and her fingers she worked to edge it out without the backwards facing bits catching, trying to ignore the way his skin twitched against her hands. Blood smeared across her fingers, painting her nails ruddy. More blood started to dribble out of the wound once she’d finally removed the head of the arrow, tossing it aside and pressing an alcohol soaked cloth against the puncture.

The sting, however, brought Alphonse out of whatever haze he’d been in, a sharp noise wheezing out of him as her jerked away, nearly causing Theo to topple off her feet. “Whoa, whoa whoa, stop moving! Alphonse- you’re bleeding-” she yelped, grabbing a fistful of ridge feathers near the base of his skull in an attempt to yank him back down.

To her surprise, he complied easily with the pull. He stopped moving almost altogether. She glanced up towards his head watching his ears flick in alarm, the feathers that weren’t slicked with blood fluffing up again. “Easy… It’s just me,” she whispered, replacing the wad of cloth over the wound to staunch the flow of blood and hopefully clean the wound. “It’s just me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Alphonse let out a pitiful whimper in response. And if that didn’t tear at Theo’s heart. She released her grip on the ridge feathers, stroking her hand over the spot to try and smooth the ruffled feathers out again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” He turned his head slowly, just enough to look at her with betrayal in his eyes. “I- I thought it was like a mane on a horse, don’t look at me like that! You’re just as new to this as me!”

Alphonse huffed, as if the comparison was absurd. Theo however, blinked a couple times. “A-Actually, hang on. I have an idea,” she said. She shucked her cloak as quickly as she could with one free hand, and held it out to Alphonse’s face. “You’ve seen the vets work on the horses, haven’t you? They- they cover their faces?” Alphonse blinked at her, his little dot brows pinching together. “It seems like it helps, you know?”

He quietly breathed out again, then shifted his head just a bit closer. “Is that okay?” Theo asked, moving to put the cloak over his eyes. He closed them in response and let her complete the action. Settling the fabric over his face like a blindfold, she gently pushed him away. “Stretch out again so I can work. I won’t do anything without saying.”

Alphonse made the quiet humming noise again, and seeming to have settled better (so it did help!), went still. Theo let out her own quiet breath of relief and got back to work. Uneven stitches that she talked both herself and Alphonse through went into the first wound. The second arrow, which seemed to stick worse than the first, finally removed. Another round of clumsy stitches, but the blood was stopped so Theo considered it a victory.

She cleaned the shallow wounds along his shoulder next. Informed him that she’d put bandages over them once he was human again- she hadn’t been able to nick enough to bandage him like this.

Finally, she moved to his leg. She looped a couple bandages around it above the injury to start a tourniquet. “This one I can do properly,” she muttered. “You’re doing great. We’re almost done. Lift your leg a bit?”

He complied through her instructions, breathing slowly but evenly now. When she loosed the tourniquet again, more stitches done (the best ones yet, by the way), she moved her hand up to one of his horns. “We’re nearly done,” she said gently. She didn’t get a response. “Alphonse?”

Picking herself off the ground, in her bloodstained dress, she stepped softly around to his face again. She pulled her cloak off his face to find he’d either fallen asleep or passed out at last. His face had relaxed, the markings under his eyes making him look permanently exhausted seeming to be more prominent now. Theo pressed her lips together and gently smoothed back the feathers that seemed to imitate hair along the top of his head. “Alright… alright, good," she whispered.

Kneeling at his face, she dabbed the blood off of his eyelid. Peppering the cleaning with gentle rubs of his head, she managed to clean the cut and most of the blood off his feathers without waking him.

Quietly, she pressed a tiny kiss to his brow. After setting his clothes where he’d see them and changing into a new, clean set of clothes herself, she sat down outside the storehouse. She settled in to wait.

The sun was down and Theo had lit a lantern by the time she heard the sound of human footsteps behind her. She didn't move from her curled up position, listening as he shuffled about. "Did the stitches stay put?" She asked, picking at a lose thread at her knee.

"They did," Alphonse replied. Relief poured through Theo at hearing his soft voice. "Though, I could admittedly use some assistance with the bandages, my lady. If that's alright."

Theo rocked forward and got to her feet. "I assume you're decent?"

"Of course."

So Theo turned and walked back into the shed, bringing the lantern with her. Alphonse was standing in the weak light, his tunic held in his hands. The injuries had shrank to remain proportional to his human form, much to Theo’s relief.

They got settled and Theo began wrapping his wounds in the weak light. "Do you remember? What happened?" She asked, winding the bandages round and around his shoulder and bicep.

Alphonse shook his head. His lips pressed into a thin line. "I remember… some guy trying to jump a woman in the alley," he murmured. His eyes were still the same bronze as his dragon form. The markings under his eyes remained as well as a couple trailing down his chest and shoulders. He took a shuddering breath. "Then… nothing for a while."

Theo tied the bandage off and then moved to inspect the puncture wounds. Just to be safe. "You don't remember… the knights?"

He jerked, looking to her with eyes blown wide. "They saw me like that?!"

Theo nodded weakly. "They tried to kill you. That's how you got hurt…" she trailed off. Alphonse buried his face in his hands, letting out a slow breath.

Fingers raked through his amethyst hair. "Did I hurt anyone?" he breathed out.

"Not that I know of. They said you killed someone but-"

"I killed someone?!"

"You wouldn't do that," Theo protested, taking his hand out of his hair. "You couldn't have. We'll get to the bottom of this. We'll figure out what causes this… you aren't a monster."

Alphonse stared at his feet.

Theo finished tying off the last of the wounds, light wrapping around his neck to cover the marks there. "Do you remember anything at all?"

"I remember you," he whispered. "I remember feeling safe with you." He pulled his tunic on and smoothed it out, being careful with his bad arm. "I mostly remember feelings, nothing clear. It's like waking up from a dream I can't quite remember. I know things have happened but I can't make sense of the flashes I do recall."

Theo set the supplies that were left back into her bag. Alphonse pulled his boots on, arranged his hair in a way to hide the bandages on his neck.

"How can you be sure I wouldn't hurt someone? How can you be sure I won't hurt you?"

Theo looked up, slinging her cloak back over her shoulders. "Because it's you," she answered plainly. "You'd never hurt me."

Alphonse did not look satisfied with this answer. "I don't think that thing is me." He protested, gesturing for her to start walking. They'd need to be home soon or people would ask more questions than they already were going to.

Theo hummed softly, knitting her fingers together. "It is though. I can tell. Its… you. But more open than you allow yourself to be as a man," she murmured. "I accidentally scruffed you and you looked at me like a kicked puppy."

Alphonse looked to go through the five stages of grief at great speed upon hearing this. His mouth opened and closed a couple times before he found words again. "You what?"

Okay, they weren't the most eloquent, but they were words.

Theo found a giggle bubbling out of her. "You weren't being a cooperative patient, it's not my fault," she defended. "It's you, Alphonse. A freer you, but it's still you."

Alphonse watched her back as she walked ahead of him. “A freer me?”

Theo nodded, glancing over her shoulder. “It reminds me of when we were kids, actually.”

#my ocs #the dragon knight #temp title #writing #oc writing #oc fiction #fantasy #blood #injury #dubious medical care #we doin our best

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agirlwithdemonblood · 1 year

Text

Celebrity Next Door - Chapter 8

Pairings: Jensen Ackles & Reader (Read as first person!)

Series Summary: Moving to a new location is difficult but living next to somebody you’d never expect to meet, and catching feelings? That’s damn near impossible to comprehend.

Chapter Summary: A day spent with the three people you cherish, what could be better?

Warnings: Slight angst, insecurities, lots of happiness and fluff tho.

Series Masterlist here! Main masterlist here!

Time flies when you're having fun.

That’s what everybody says, and I never believed it.

I’ve had fun before and time didn’t necessarily go by any faster.

But spending the past week with Jensen and his kids felt like it’s been only hours since they came home.

And now here they were already, packing their bags and getting ready to go back to their mom’s house.

Kevin placed his bag in the hallway as did Katie, Jensen coming down the stairs to see them off as he always did.

I packed my belongings in my purse and put my shoes on at the back door, getting ready to leave when Jensen rushed to my side.

“Where are you sneaking off to?” He smirked, pulling me closer by my coat.

I laughed and pushed his chest back gently, “Home silly.”

His smile dropped and he stared at me in shock, like I just hurt his feelings. “Why?”

Confusion filled me as I stepped closer, and a small polite smile spread on my lips. “What do you mean why? Out of respect. I don’t need to be here when she shows up, remember last time?”

His features grew cold and he looked away from me, a poor attempt to put his walls back up.

“Hey... Jensen, don’t do that. I’m not trying to upset you. But last time we both slightly froze and we mentioned how we were enjoying the drama-free life. We don’t have to change anything.”

He frowned and shook his head, “I want it to change. I don’t want to hide us anymore. The past week has been amazing, for you, me, and the kids. And I want that to become real, I want our little bubble to pop, and for us to go out into the real world, together.”

I smiled and put my bag down, stepping closer to him to wrap my arms around his waist.

“Then let’s change it.”

Half an hour passed and finally, the children’s mom pulled up.

I swallowed my nerves and stood in my spot, turning to glance at Jensen who was looking even more scared than I was.

Her face dropped when she spotted me, a knowing smile playing on her red-stained lips.

“Oh… Hi. Y/N was it?” She spoke, stepping closer to Jensen and I.

I nodded and smiled friendly, “Yes, it’s nice to see you again Daneel!”

She kept her composure and stared back at Jensen who was quiet, and still. You’d swear he was frozen in position by the way he wasn’t even moving an inch.

“Jensen? Are you going to say Hi or just stand there like a deer in headlights?” She joked.

Jensen smiled politely and shook off his nerves, stepping closer to her, “Hey Daneel. How was the drive?”

She shrugged and looked back at her car, “Not bad, I do miss living in Austin though, I might have to see if I can move back there.”

He swallowed hard and his face went cold. Angry. The wall building. Brick by brick.

I backed up to let them talk, sitting beside the kids on the stairs.

“So.. Did you have a good week guys?”

Katie nodded and smiled, leaning her head on my shoulder. “I’ll miss you!”

I laughed, my heart instantly warming at her words. “I’ll miss you too Katie Girl but don’t worry, I live right next door. Come visit me whenever you come back okay?”

She nodded enthusiastically and my attention turned towards Kevin, who was sitting with his arms crossed and a really grumpy look on his face.

“What about you Kevin? Have a good week?”

He shrugged and huffed, putting that cold shoulder back, like this week never happened.

Yes, I’ll admit it hurt, but he was a kid, there would be a million things in his mind, especially the switching back and forth between parents, it couldn’t be that easy.

The voices of the parents got louder before they just stopped talking to each other completely.

Jensen walked away from her shaking his head, approaching Katie and Kevin and attempting to force a smile. “C’mon guys, time to get in the car.”

We waved goodbye to the kids as they left, I watched the sad expression on Katie and Jensen’s face and my heart hurt. They weren’t my family yet I could feel myself growing emotional seeing the hurt that filled the area.

After the car was out of sight, Jensen sat on the stairs and I followed quickly. He stared out into the road. His jaw was slammed shut and his fists were clenched, he was really bothered by something.

“Jensen?” I whispered, catching his attention.

He turned towards me and smiled sadly, “I’m good, it’s just a lot sometimes.”

I nodded understandingly and gripped his hand in mine tightly. “Well, why don’t we do something today? Get out of the house a bit?”

He smiled for the first time this morning and nodded, “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

After researching things to do, and places to go, Jensen suggested we go see the market by the beach. Apparently, there were little kiosks and stands with handmade items which was something I was unbelievably excited to see.

We parked on the street and got out of the car, his hand instantly reaching for mine. He was never a man shy of affection in the right moments. In front of his kids it was more innocent and less “in your face”. Usually, when it’s just him and I thought, his hands are constantly on me.

Not that I’m complaining.

We walked down the pier and my eyes were widened by all the beautiful booths set up, anything you could imagine- they had it.

They had henna, face paints, handmade bags, shirts, skirts, dresses, stickers, stuffed animals, and hats. It was like I was attending an art exhibit and I couldn’t look away.

Jensen chuckled causing my attention to move to him, where his eyes were staring right at me.

“What?” I whispered nervously.

He smirked and pulled me into him tightly, “You're adorable. That’s what.”

My cheeks burned red at the compliment, he was never shy of that either. Constantly telling me how cute he thought I was or how beautiful I was. I don’t think he realized how much it really meant to me. Because man, as much as I wanted to believe it, I didn’t.

We kept walking down the boardwalk, stopping for seconds to look at each booth. Jensen was checking out the handmade gemstone necklaces when my eye caught something amazing in the booth next door.

It was a handmade beanie that said “COD” on it. Call Of Duty.

My mind thought of Kevin and what he would think if we got him this hat, would he hate it? Would he wear it? Would he think it’s ridiculous that we even bought a hat from here? I never knew with that kid. Jensen’s arms wrapped around me from behind, a light kiss on my shoulder giving me chills. “What are you looking at?”

I smiled and pointed to the hat hanging on the hook, “I’m not sure if Kevin would like that but…”

He turned me around to face him, a wide smile on his face. “He would love it.”

We grabbed the hat and went towards the cash when giggling filled my ears. My gaze fell on two girls who were standing in the booth next door, eyeing Jensen like he was a piece of meat.

I looked back at him, who seemed unbothered, unaware of the giggles or the way they were pointing and I quickly realized that of course, he was used to this. I keep forgetting he’s a frigging celebrity.

We paid for the hat and started to leave when the girls from before rushed over, stopping only mere inches from Jensen and me.

“Jensen!! OH MY GOD! I LOVE YOU!” One girl shrieked, causing me to jump and back up.

“Can we get a picture!! Please?” The other girl asked, she was more polite and distant, she was somebody I didn’t mind, but this other girl… I slightly wanted to hit her. It didn’t help that they both looked like models.

Jensen looked at me apologetically but I shrugged it off, I knew he was a celebrity when I met him, I should have known this type of stuff was going to happen. I just didn’t expect how intense it could be or what his fans would look like.

I grabbed the phone from the girls and took a few photos, my eyes focusing on Jensen’s bright smile and the way he wrapped his arm around each of them.

There was a green monster overtaking my body and I hated it. My insecurities were growing fast.

They were well dressed, beautiful, and practically flawless with their sun-kissed skin. And then there was me.

I wasn’t the type of person you’d expect to see with a celebrity. I was the one who wouldn’t be allowed on the red carpet because I don’t “Fit in”.

And my anxiety started rising, unsure of why Jensen was really with me in the first place.

I passed the phone back to the girls and slowly turned around, continuing to walk down the boardwalk.

Jensen caught up to me, his hand resting on my back gently. “Hey.. You okay?”

I nodded and attempted a smile, but it was no use. The panic was building with every thought that was flowing through my mind.

Your not enough.

Your fooling yourself by thinking he would ever want to be with you.

Jensen deserves better.

He doesn’t find you attractive.

Your nothing.

“Baby?” He whispered, standing in front of me to try and get a better look at my condition. He frowned when he noticed the stray teardrop falling and the way my breathing was becoming heavy.

I hated it. I hated that he was staring at me like this. I hated that I couldn’t control my insecurities or my worries. I hated that I wasn’t enough for him.

His hand was tight on my arm, pulling me to the stairs so we could get some privacy. I shakily sat down, throwing my head in my hands to avoid whatever pity look he was offering me.

“Honey… Please talk to me, what’s going on?” He begged, his voice filled with concern.

Good job, now your worrying him.

I opened my mouth to speak when my breath got caught in my throat, a loud raspy cough escaping my lips causing my breathing to become faster.

“Okay… Okay deep breaths baby, you're going to be okay.”

Nice, now it’s his job to take care of you. Again. Your a burden.

“Jensen… you don’t need to… I’ll be okay.”

He moved to sit in front of me, confusion filling his face as he looked into my eyes. Noticing the fear and the sadness behind them.

“Okay, what’s going on baby? You know I’m here for you.”

I laughed lightly and shook my head, more tears rushing down my face but I didn’t care anymore. “That’s the point… you shouldn’t be.”

He tilted his head and frowned, his eyes filling with sadness of his own. “Why are you saying this?” I shook my head and put my face in my hands, hiding away from the man I really wanted to hug right now, I was trying to protect him… from me.

“Because… I’m not worth it… Fuck, your Jensen fucking Ackles, and I am… me. It doesn’t seem quite right does it?”

His hand grabbed mine off my face, the other tilting my chin to face him better. A soft smile played on his lips as he stared in my eyes. God, his eyes.

“Says who?”

“Says everybody. Society. You seen those girls fangirling over you. When you had your arms around them, it just looked right. I can’t imagine it ever looking right if you did that to me. Because I am not a model with the perfect body and perfect face. Hell, I’ve been in LA for a while now and I still don’t have that perfect sun-kissed skin all the girls around here have.”

He laughed lightly, not like he was laughing at me, but more that he was laughing that I would even say something so ridiculous. Like it was hilarious that those words even came out of my mouth.

“Okay, so you don’t have sun kissed skin and your not a model, who cares? I love every inch of your skin. I love that you can clearly see all the sun spots on your arms and that you don’t look like a carrot like half these ladies do. What you look like doesn’t determine your worth.”

I scoffed and tried to stand, tried to walk away from this conversation all together. “Your just pity saying that.”

He quickly grabbed my arm and spun me around so I was tight against him, his hand pushing my head on his chest in a cuddling kind of way.

“You are enough. You are more than enough because of who you are. You never have expected anything from me, you gave me a second chance when I was nothing but a total dick to you. You helped me multiple times when you didn’t need to. And you connect with my kids so well, Kevin won’t admit it but he likes you. I’ve never seen somebody make the effort to play video games with him or try out what he wanted to do, Katie takes up all the time and I think he gets left out but you? You see him. You balance everybody and never ask for anything in return.”

I wrapped my arms around him and held him for dear life, feeling him bringing me back to the surface and he knew it. God, he knew how to read me better than anybody.

“You are always going to be enough. You are the one I want to be with. Not girls like them. They're not beautiful to me. You are beautiful. You are flawlessly, naturally gorgeous. I mean… look at you… Honey, you can stop anybody's breath.”

Jensen backed up, pulling my face up towards him before pressing his lips firmly against mine. Kissing me harder and more passionately than he’s ever done. His hands moved in my hair, pulling me impossibly closer, bodies on bodies. Heat spreading throughout our bodies. Loud breathy gasps escaped our lips whenever we separated for a second. We were falling in love, or maybe we already did.

If he could love me like this, than maybe I am enough after all.

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it! Like, comment and repost!

#supernatural one shot #jensen's smile #spn fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #jensen ackles x toy #jensen ackles #jensenxyou #jensen x reader #dean x castiel #dean x reader #deanwinchester #dean #dean winchester

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strawberry-shortcake14 · 1 year

Text

Under the mistletoe

Ajax x reader

(This takes time during around Christmas of course)

(I also have zero clue if I got his personality correct. I did the personality based on what fanfics had and what I could remember from the show. So sorry If it's wrong)

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Plot (delete after writing)

He takes the chance (with consent) and kisses you confesses and vulnerable state. And it's all fluff.

**************************************************

You were humming to the song playing through your f/c headphones. You favorite song blasting as you finnish up an essay you had for history. Your f/c sweater was soft to your skin as you click enter on the computer and close it. You take your foot to the beat of the song and get up from you chair.

Your room-mate had left to hangout with their friends so you had the whole room to yourself.

You continue to do your own thing, humming to the song and doing a little dance or two. That was, until a familiar knocking pattern on the door startled you. You pause you music and jog over to the door. You swing the door open and a smile grows on your face. Ajax, (your sweet boyfriend) smiles at you and hands you your favorite flower (_____). You can see one of his snakes trying to slyther on out of his purple benie. Ajax notices and quickly moves it back in before anything could happen. You happy inspect the flowers beauty.

"It's almost a pretty/handsome as you."

Your face heatens up at what ajax said. His face beams red and what he said too. You take his hand and the coldness felt nice to your warm/cold hands. You tugg him in your dorm and hug him. He wraps his arms around your torso and leaned his head on your shoulder/head (depending on how tall you are). You bury your head into the nap of his neck/his chest. (again, on how tall you are). You two stay like that before you let go. You smile and take in all his features. From his moles to his dark chocolate brown eyes. You hear him say something bit you were preoccupied by looking at his beauty. You hum in response.

"Did you even hear me?"

"..yes"

You hesitated at your answer because you aren't the best at lying (if you are, im sorry)

"I said" ajax says before quoting what he said before.

"You you want to walk around outside and look at the lights and stuff?"

You smiled and didn't have to think twice.

"Yes."

°♡°

You were an 'aw' with all the lights and decorations that filled the school halls. Some blue and white and others rainbow. Colors fill the building. Few students pasted the halls since it was close to 'bedtime'. Some went all out and others did very few. But it all still looked great.

You and ajax finally made it outside. Snow was falling slowly and landed on your heads. You jog up a head to a bush and croched down. Ajax looked at you confused some he joined you at the bush. His eye immediately see why you were over here. A baby deer and their mother where sleeping peacefully in the snow. The mother woke up to the sound of you trying to make ajax quietly aproch and the mother deer stared at you two. In curiosity, you reach your hand out. She sniffs your hand and starts to lick you hand in likeness. Axaj stares in 'aw' at you and the deer. You slowly back up from your spot and ajax does the same.

The mother stares with her black eyes as you and ajax leaves and goes back to sleeping with here baby.

Once you and ajax were far enough, you start gushing. Like a bomb that has exploded.

"Omg, did you see how cute the were! The mother was so kind. I want a deer as a pet."

You continue rambling on and see to not notice ajax looking at you and your lips. He melts at your fondness of the deer and he smiled. A big wide one. You know, the one where almost nothing could erase it. Yea, that one. You make a big circle around the school and make it back to where you started. But something seemed different. A two green leaf decoration hanged from the entrance ceiling. Ajax was the first to notice. His face grew bright red at the sight. He knew that wasn't there before so someone must of put it there after he and you walked around the school.

'I swear to God. If Xavier or one of the girls put it there. Their gonna get it'

He slows down to a stop and if confuses you. You look at him. You h/c hair full of snowflakes. You s/c glowing due to the lights lighting it and snow melting on it. You looked like an angel decent from the heavens (or at least what ajax thought). You had confusion on your face as expected.

"...well-I....um.." was all ajax could sputter up before sighing in defeat. He pointed up and your eyes followed up to the two leafed decoration. You could feel the blood rushing up to your face fast. The awkwardness tension could be cut with a knife. You twirl your coat zipper with your finger.

°♡°

"Ugh! Can't they kiss already?!" Enid says. Using rhe bes of her vision from her balcony as possible. Xavier, Wednesday, Bianca, thing, and Enid (of course) where standing in Wednesday and ends dorm, spying on you and Ajax.

"Calm down. 25 bucks says y/n makes the first move." Bianca says out of boredom. From how much she knew Ajax, you were definitely making the first move.

"I bet Ajax will make the first move. 30 bucks"

"Deal"

°♡°

Ajax takes a deep breath and takes a step in front of you. You look at him. He grabs both of your hands and look at you in the eyes. He slowly move in closer. His eyes flickering up and down from your lips to your eyes. He sighs.

"May I? ..kiss you?"

Small shock fills your eyes but goes away as you nod. Giving permission for ajax to kiss you. He raises his hands to you face and strokes you cheeks with his thumb. You both close the space and kiss.

(I can't writing kissing scenes very well so ignore this whole mess)

You broke apart seconds later. It sadly ended too fast for you liking but you needed to breathe. You smile and lean unto ajax's touch. Ajax wraps his arms around you and and puts his head on your shoulder/head.

You hear shouting from above and look up. You see your friends shouting and making a ruckus from on of the balconies. You feel your body burn with embarrassment. Ajax just laughs and smiles. He grabs your hand again and leads you back to your dorm so you don't get into trouble with curfew. You sigh and try to calm down from what just happened.

'I am so asking what the hell they were doing tomorrow '

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Merry later Christmas and happy new year ✨️🎄

#ajax wednesday #ajax petropolis x reader #x reader #writing #happy new years #merry late christmas #x gn reader #gn reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday show #wednesday addams

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sinsandsuccubus · 2 years

Text

Over The Love - Urban Wyatt

Context: To think he was different.

Genre: angst

Word Count: 1.7k

Pairings: Urban Wyatt X Fem!Reader, Jack Harlow X Platonic!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive, light talk of sex

A/N: *y/f/a/b: your favorite alcoholic beverage

Part two can be found here!

Masterlist ☽☾

☽ ☾

Urby 🖤🍃: are you on your way?

YOU: Yeah, be there in 10. Can’t wait to see you, love you 💕

Urby 🖤🍃: love you too, see you soon.

To say you were excited was, to say the least. You were ecstatic to see Urban, having been away from him since he was on tour with Jack. Despite the routine nightly FaceTime calls and daily text messages, there was nothing like seeing him in person.

Which is why you all agreed to meet at your favorite pizza spot downtown, and to celebrate Jack’s success on tour.

You and Jack had a good amount of history together, you being one of his first supporters when he started in the industry. You were there through everything. From when he moved from SoundCloud to Spotify. From small features to big features. From Knack For It to First Class; you had seen it all. And along the way, Jack introduced you to his best friend Urban, who he believed would be the perfect match for you.

And indeed you were, having been joined at the hip since. Urban was everything and more for you; he was your first everything. And you couldn’t be happier to have him as that.

Or so you thought.

As the pizza parlor came into view, you fixed yourself in the small window, admiring the outfit you wore.

You looked good. Damn good.

You nodded at the owner, who pointed you towards the back, smiling at you. For as long as you could remember, this was your favorite spot with the group. Every time Jack had a big success, the gang would come here. So much to the point that you all became a regular, the owner keeping a section in the back for you always closed off; just in case you happened to stop by.

And that’s where everybody was, you working your way back to the section closed off by a big red curtain. From the outside you heard laughter, smiling at your boyfriend’s voice.

Until you heard what he said.

“Yo Urb, when you gonna let Y/N go? You already won the bet.”

You paused, sneakers stopping you right outside the curtain.

What bet?

“I don’t know man. She’s pretty nice to have around” Urban spoke, going with the flow of the conversation. He didn’t want to tell his friends that he had fell in love with you, no, that would defeat the purpose of the bet.

So what did he do? Lie. A lie that bit him in his ass.

“Oh, so keeping her around to keep your bed warm, huh? That’s smart.”

“Yeah, what else is she good for?”

You didn’t hear Jack’s angry comment at his bestfriend as you ripped back the curtain, everyone staring at you in shock, Urban caught like a deer in headlights.

“Ya know, for a motherfucker’s who so smart, you didn’t think this one out did you?” You spoke, looking at the man you thought loved you.

“Y/N, it’s not what you think…”

“No, it’s exactly what I think it is. You made a bet with your homeboys here,” You looked at all of your “friends” at the table, heads hung in shame. “To see if you could get what you wanted out of me. And you got it. Are you happy now? Was it worth it Urban?”

“Y/N, please, let’s talk about this.”

“Talk? There’s nothing else to talk about Urban! There’s nothing left to hear from you. But from me? Fuck you, all of you. I hope you rot with the guilt lingering over your fucking head.” You stared into Jack’s eyes, your other best friend. The one that had introduced you to Urban in the first place. The one that insured you he was “different.”

Different. Right.

“Don’t contact me, any of you. Act like I don’t exist because I’m doing the same.” And with that you left the parlor, steam coming out of your ears.

You had given Urban everything, he was your first of all. First kiss, first sex, first love. First everything.

All lost because of a bet. A stupid bet.

Pathetic.

You weren’t mad at yourself, no, your therapist taught you better.

You were disappointed. Disappointed in your friends, disappointed in Urban. Disappointed in yourself.

When you got home, you blocked him on everything, and even your so called friends. All of the pictures you two shared, deleted. All the physical copies you had, burned, your favorite artist playing in the background as you stood there holding a bottle of y/f/a/b*.

If one thing, you weren’t a liar. You made it sure that Urban didn’t exist. Urban Wyatt was no longer a person you knew.

☽ ☾

Jack stood up in his seat, smashing his hands on the table.

“I told you dumb fucks that it was a stupid fucking bet! And I told your even dumber fuckin ass not to go along with it. Now look where it got you!”

“Oh don’t act like you’re all innocent, Jack.” Urban spoke, looking at his friend, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not innocent, but I’m telling you the fucking truth. I told you not to continue with that bet on Y/N, I didn’t introduce you to her to do that. And now she hates me because of it.”

“Hates you? You’re seriously only thinking of yourself?” Urban stood up, looking at his friend from across the table.

“Yeah I am! Because you made up your mind when you made that bet. Now if you excuse me,” Jack shoved back his chair, placing a hundred dollar bill on the table. “I have a relationship to fix.” He stormed out of the pizza parlor, hopping in his Jeep and immediately driving over to your place.

For the sake of your relationship he’s hoped you listen.

☽ ☾

Urban had a migraine, his car hotboxed with smoke. He scrolled through his phone, fighting back the tears as he took a long drag from his blunt.

When he made that bet, he hadn’t meant to fall in love with you, he hadn’t meant for you to become one of the most important people in his life. He hadn’t meant to take it all from you, to take everything you had and wanted him to have.

He hadn’t meant any of this.

He was going to tell you soon about the bet, he was. And with that he was going to tell you how much he loved you, and how he promised to love you for as long as he could. He had the promise ring to prove it.

But he could only prove his shame when he seen your face after you’d pull back that curtain. He could only prove his disappointment as you yelled at him and his friends. He could only prove his disappointment after Jack chewed him out.

Nothing but disappointment.

☽ ☾

Your doorbell rang constantly, you standing up from your spot on the couch to walk over to the door. Checking the peephole, you swung open the door, Jack standing there with a bag of your favorite take-out food.

“What do you want Jack?”

“To explain. Please, just let me explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain Jack, now please leave.” You went to go shut the door in his face, but his foot stopped it, him practically barging into your apartment.

“Jack I could call the police for trespassing.”

“I don’t care Y/N.”

“You’ll care when your ass goes to jail.”

“Y/N! Please! Just listen to me.” Jack yelled, you rolling your eyes as you sat back down on your couch. He sighed, dropping the food on the table and sitting across from you.

“When I introduced you to Urban, I did not intend for it to go this way.” You scoffed at Jack’s answer, letting out a laugh.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Y/N, please. Hear me out.” He paused. “I set y’all up because I thought you’d be perfect for each other. I had no clue he had made the bet until after it was already set. And if I had known, I wouldn’t have allowed it.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me? You made me look like a dumb-ass Jackman!”

“I know, and I’m sorry I never told you. I just- I was caught in between. Urban’s my bestfriend, just like you are, and I didn’t know what to do. I even talked to my mom.”

“And what did she say?”

“To step in. But then, I couldn’t. I saw how happy the two of you were. And I could see Urban felt the same, how genuinely he looked at you.” You scoffed again.

“Yeah, well, he obviously didn’t. You heard what he said, I was only there to keep his bed warm.”

“I heard him. And the only reason why I didn’t slap the shit out of him was because you had pulled back the curtain and the table that was between us. Look, Y/N, I sincerely apologize for what happened. I’m sorry I put you in harm's way, I’m sorry I allowed this to happen to you. I’m-“

“It’s alright Jack, I get it. You didn’t know what to do, I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re not?” Jack spoke, looking at you, a wet glaze over his eyes.

“No, I’m disappointed, but it’s already happened. I can’t change the past.”

“So are we good?”

“Yeah. Now Urban…”

“Fuck Urban. I swear to God when I seen him when I go back, I’m gonna fuck him up Y/N-“

“Can you.. can you just stay here?” You spoke, looking at your friend. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Of course.” Jack said softly, pulling the food out the bags.

“I got your favorites, since you missed the pizza.” He chuckled slightly, sitting next to you on the couch.

“Thank you Jack.”

“Of course.” He spoke, bringing you into his side.

That night you two slept in the same bed, Jack holding you close as you cried yourself to sleep, stroking your back.

You were over it. Over the Love.

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