#Hotel Discontent | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

macabr3-barbi3 · 4 months ago

Note

if it interests you, I’d love to see what you do with alastor/dog sinner reader. I think it could be a very interesting dynamic- anyway good work! :)

HI ANON SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG LOL

I ended up combining this with another request from Ao3: "please please please I'd love a rough/teasing/edging (with a lil hate to love twist) oneshot i bet it would be another amazing read owo" from liddlefangirl

Tags: edging, rough, hatesex(?), teasing, Alastor Does Not Like Dogs™️

AS ALWAYS an extra large and mushy thank you to @fraugwinska for being a lovely hype-woman and my Alastor dialogue mentor 🥰

Things were bound to come to a head between you and Alastor eventually- the nature of your Sinner form had guaranteed that when it manifested you with features similar to a dog, the floppy ears of a Beagle drooping off the sides of your head and a sensitive nose to match.

Charlie had apparently seen no issue with allowing a dog- a hunting dog of all things- in the confined spaces of the Hotel with the deer demon, and his discontent with the situation struck fiercely and often, out of Charlie’s sight, usually in the form of a wayward tentacle tripping you down the stairs or some kind of Eldritch magic moving doors and hallways around so you ended up hopelessly lost and unable to find your room.

Alastor himself avoided you like the plague, only interacting with you when absolutely necessary and with his cane held in front of him like a barrier, like he thought you would attack him unprovoked- even though it was him doing the antagonizing, constantly fucking with you, and the one time you had asked him about it?

“You are quite welcome to leave at any time if the nature of the Hotel is not to your liking!”

The bastard. And even though it wasn’t like you, even though you were at the Hotel for redemption and everything and things like petty revenge should have been beneath you while you tried to improve yourself, you couldn’t resist pushing back a little.

You knew he had some sort of trauma with dogs from his death, so you weren’t trying to actually terrorize the man. You just didn’t let his bullshit get to you anymore- if he tripped you down the stairs you stopped sending a death glare over your shoulder at him, just standing up, dusting yourself off, and suppressing your limp until you were out of sight; when you found yourself in a twisting corridor that you knew hadn’t been there before, you simply picked the closest door and entered it like that was where you had meant to go the entire time. When he took the doors away entirely and just dropped you into an endless hallway with no entrance or exit, you plopped yourself down on the floor and took a book from your pocket to read until the lights went back to normal and the doors returned, indicating his departure.

You even played up some of the more canine aspects of your personality just for his benefit; you scratched at your ears whenever he entered a room; you sometimes barked or howled instead of applauding during some of Charlie’s meetings; you teased Husk incessantly, sometimes playfully ‘chasing’ him around the bar before Alastor left the area, always sure to apologize afterwards and make sure the avian cat knew that you didn’t mean any real harm, that you were just fucking with Alastor a bit.

But as with any war, sometimes there’s a line that shouldn’t be crossed from either side.

You’re walking carefully through the kitchen with a couple buckets of water for Niffty when you spot the shadow snaking out of the corner, and you’re not quick enough to sidestep it this time. You land hard on the floor, covered in hot soapy water, and when you see Alastor watching you from the doorway with that fucking smirk on his face and lowered lashes something in you snaps- the harsh bark of anger that rumbles from your throat is entirely genuine, as is the fear that seems to flash in his eyes before his smile grows cruel and he snaps his fingers.

There’s a muzzle around your face, the straps of it far too tight and digging into your skin before you can even get a chance to try and tear it off, and the yip of pain that escapes you hurts your sensitive ears combined with the laugh track that comes out of Alastor’s microphone.

“Ahh, isn’t that a sight? Muzzled at last, as every wretched mutt should be.” Apparently the sight of the muzzle makes him brave- he steps closer, reveling in being above you. “You know, in my time the strays weren’t even allowed indoors- how kind of Charlie to open the doors of the Hotel to you and the infestation of fleas that you’ve no doubt brought with you.”

In lieu of a verbal response, you take advantage of his proximity and swipe at his ankles with your foot- his shadows don’t have time to react and catch him before he’s on the ground beside you, caught in an awkward crouch as he tries to flee before he’s fully landed. You snarl at him, sharp teeth bared behind the wire of the muzzle, still able to be seen and heard even if you can’t use them on him as you pounce, tackling him flat to the wet floor.

Whether it's the shock of the move or something else, you’ll never understand why he doesn’t call on his shadows to assist. Instead, he lunges back, flipping your positions around, water splashing and scattering as the two of you essentially wrestle on the floor, harsh words and snapping teeth as you both try to bow the other into submission. He manages to get the upper hand, pinning you to the floor by your wrists, both your breathing heavy, sweat lining your brow, growling low in your throat while you try to wriggle out from under him. “Take the muzzle off,” you say.

“So you can bite me? I think not.”

“Take. The fucking muzzle. Off.” You stay locked in a dead stare, and when he doesn’t make any move to get off of you or reach for the straps of the contraption on your head you try once again to twist loose, managing to get your feet up under you to try and buck him off with your hips like some kind of wild horse. It accomplishes two things, neither of them what you wanted to happen.

First, you become aware of a dampness to your panties that is not just a result of your tumble across the wet floor; the fight-or-flight instinct combined with the adrenaline of the impromptu fight on the floor, ending with you pinned under a strong, powerful (sexy, even if he’s an ass) demon, means that your body has completely misconstrued what was happening here.

The second is that Alastor becomes aware of that the same moment that you do.

His eyes light up with malicious interest. “How interesting,” he murmurs, taking in the light tremble of your body, the likely dilation of your pupils and how hard you’re breathing. “Not just a feral mutt but a bitch in heat as well it would seem!”

Shame warms you from the inside out, burning in tandem with the arousal making itself known with the flush of your skin. “Fuck you,” you hiss through your teeth, but it’s weak, needy rather than demanding like you intend it to be. “Just- get off me, let me up-”

You continue to try to get out from under Alastor, attempting to buck your hips again to dislodge him. Quick as a whip there’s a tentacle wrapped around your wrist when he lets it go to dig his fingers into the skin of your hips, keeping you bowed nearly in a bridge. Your legs tremble from the strain of the position, and when Alastor presses his own hips down to meet yours you can’t help the cut off moan that escapes you at the feeling of his heavy erection pressing against your core.

“Get off? Are you quite sure?” He grinds against you, making you whimper when the drag of his cock through his slacks rubs under your skirt, against where you’re wet and sensitive. “You know, the one good thing about dogs is that they can be trained; by either rewarding them with a treat, or by whipping them into submission… perhaps there’s a mutually beneficial arrangement that can be made for us, depending on your preference on the matter."

“I’m not making a fucking deal with you,” you mutter, turning away from him, and a new tentacle slips around the other side of you to grab at your wrist so Alastor can release that one as well, using his now free hand to twist your face to meet his eyes over the cage of the muzzle.

“Who said anything about a deal? It’s a proposal- we can continue as we have been until you inevitably aggravate me to the point that I rip you apart, Charlie’s opinions on the matter be damned.” He lets go of your face to trail his hand down your throat, squeezing softly before continuing a path down your body to rest on your other hip, dragging your body up against his and properly slotting one of his thighs between your legs. “Or you can be a good dog and let me be the master with a firm hand that you seem to so desperately need to straighten your... flaws out, and make you at least bearable to have around my Hotel.”

When you hesitate, he taps the bars around your mouth. “I’ll even take the muzzle off at the end,” he says, “permitted that you prove to me that you can behave .”

And it shouldn’t be hot, the way that he says that; like you’re some unruly fleabag that needs to be fucked to act properly, like you were the one causing problems instead of just reacting to the ones he was creating. But the pressure of his leg against your sensitive clit, even through both of your layers of clothing, is sinfully delicious, and you can’t help but wonder what exactly Alastor as a ‘master’ would entail.

You force your muscles to relax, going slack against the Radio Demon, and he smiles wide and dangerous as he lowers your back down to the puddle of cooling water beneath you, still clinging to the faint lemony scent of the cleaner that Niffty uses. “Good girl,” he says quietly, and the praise floods your brain like a drug. “Obedience is a treasured trait in a pet, don’t you think? Even in one that’s a brazen tart- the slightest hint that I’ll touch you and you acquiesce so easily, how lovely.”

He releases his grip on your hip to reach up and rub your ear between his fingers; the action makes you whimper in your throat, the soft skin there thin and sensitive as he pays attention to it, slowly stroking while the thumb of his other hand rubs arcs across your stomach where your shirt had ridden up in the tumble across the floor. His touch sends shivers through your body, a perceptible tremor that he sees and delights in in his wild grin is anything to go by. “Go on,” he encourages, his fingers not ceasing their movements. “Tell me you’ll be obedient. Tell me you’ll be good for me.”

You grit your teeth behind the muzzle and nod as well as you can with his hand on your ear. Saying it out loud felt like a step too far, would feel like losing something to him.

Both hands tighten their grip, the prick of claws against your skin forcing a gasp from your lips. “Even young puppies can follow a basic command,” he mocks, and the hand on your hip shifts to dip below your waistband, his fingers quickly finding the slick heat of your cunt and rubbing teasingly along your entrance. “Come on now, don’t you want a treat? Speak.”

“Fuck you- yes, I’ll be fucking good,” you mutter, and he tuts in disapproval, pressing hard against your clit before starting to retreat. “Wait, no-”

“I won’t repeat myself again,” he says lowly, hand poised to exit your panties, possibly to leave you soaked and wanting on the kitchen floor as he disappears into the shadows.

You glare at him, even as the words bubble from your throat in desperation, wanting his dexterous fingers on your pussy again. “Yes, I’ll be good for you.”

His grin sharpens. “Lovely. And I am a man of my word…” His fingers return to your folds with a fierce vengeance, his thumb swiping hard against your clit as one of his thin, strong fingers dips inside, followed swiftly by another as they press against the sweet bundle of nerves inside you and stroke the soft skin there with unerring accuracy and pressure. The action makes your body tense, a rush of heat through your entire being as he rockets you towards a swift and sloppy orgasm with little more than a couple fingers and his hand rubbing the skin of your ears.

His gaze is fire as he looks down at you, the weight of his erection still straining his pants where it rests against your thigh as he crouches above you. “Who could have guessed it would be so easy to get you to listen to me? Why, had I known you were such a desperate harlot I may have taken your metaphorical leash in hand a bit sooner if that was all it took!”

You can’t respond as the pleasure builds in your body, shaking and whining in your throat as your orgasm builds, fingers inside you never ceasing in their movements as your walls clench around them. You won’t give him the satisfaction of crying out, biting your lip behind the muzzle to suppress the sound as well as you can; you’re helpless to the force of your release as it grows, cresting, and-

Alastor pulls away, his fingers pulling out of your fluttering hole, the slick of your arousal trailing out along with it before he brings his hand to his mouth. You can see the hint of his tongue darting between the digits as he cleans them, oblivious- or uncaring- of your incredulous stare at your ruined orgasm, so close you could fucking taste it before he ripped you back from the edge.

“What the fuck, Alastor?”

“I can’t have you making a mess already,” he says, your pussy clenching around nothing as he sucks on his fingers as if in thought. “Wouldn’t that be a shame?”

“‘A shame’ is not letting me fucking finish,” you snarl at him, his grip on your ear preventing you from being able to turn away, tentacles still keeping you restrained so that you can’t finish the job your goddamn self. “Get off me, I’ll fucking do it-”

“I have no need for a naughty pet, you know,” he murmurs quietly, and the tone of his voice makes you freeze in your half-hearted struggles to get free. “Perhaps if you can learn to ask for what you want instead of simply expecting me to give it to you we might get somewhere! What do you say, my dear?”

You start to nod by default before remembering his earlier command- speak. If you wanted to cum it would be best to do as he asks. “Yes,” you say, and he tears your panties from your body and positions his fingers. “Please,” you add on a moan when he delves back into your wet heat, repositioning so that he can grind his erection against the soft skin of your thigh again.

“Let’s see if you can do this correctly this time,” he muses. “Be sure to use your words, darling- tell me when you’re about to finish.”

And he’s back to the task at hand, pistoning his fingers in and out of your drenched cunt with unerring precision, stroking that spot inside of you that made your breath come quicker and your body start to tense again. Too soon you can feel the orgasm creeping back up on you, tears budding in your eyes as the pleasure and the pressure becomes too much, too fast. You’re tempted- so tempted- to ignore his demand, to just race towards completion and damn the consequences if you could cum before he realized it was happening and stopped again. Then you think about the way he had called you “good girl” earlier and despite how much you hate him and this situation, you want that again.

You crave the praise, the rush of endorphins and pleasure that it sent racing through your head. It’s the thought of this that has you choking out, “c-close,” when the edge gets a little too near; instead of pulling off entirely, Alastor merely slows, brings down the intensity of his actions enough that you can breathe, the wave of ecstasy fading before it can crash.

“So you are a quick learner,” he says, something like pride in his voice, and he finally releases his grip on your ear; the disappointed whimper that escapes you at this doesn’t go unnoticed as he trails his hand down your body, cupping your breast while his fingers continue to pump slowly, too lazily to bring that buzz back to your limbs. “There might be hope for you yet. Shall we go again?”

And again.

You lose track of how many times he does this- bringing you right to the brink, waiting for you to vocalize how close you are before he stops, repositions, and starts over. You’ve nearly cum on his fingers, tongue, and a tentacle that slithered up between your bodies, your words failing you the longer he denies you- he eases up on your shadowy restraints enough that you can reach up to grab at his clothing or hands once your voice seems to stop working, nothing coming out but a litany of moans and whines with no words attached to them. He reads your sounds like the words of a book, knowing exactly when to stop to leave you the most frustrated. His eyes rarely leave your face unless its to look down at whatever appendage he’s fucking you with, his cock still constrained within his slacks, hot and hard where he ruts against you when he can.

This time, when he lets you come back from the edge, his fingers drop to pull at his belt, the metal clink of the fastening loud in the kitchen as he pulls himself free, prick flushed a deep red and the slick sheen of precum beading at the tip, stroking down the shaft with a hiss. His smile is strained, a faint tremor to his expression and limbs from holding out on his own pleasure for so long. “Is this what you want?” He asks, low and dangerous, rubbing the head of his cock against your folds, the evidence of how many times you’ve almost cum dripping from your core to the drying floor.

You nod, barely able to speak, to do much more than cling to him for dear life and jerk your head up and down in the affirmative.

He cocks his head to one side, an eyebrow arched even as he presses forward with his hips, the tip of him a blazing heat where he rests against you. “You can do better than that,” he says, “or has all our training been for nothing? Beg.”

“Please,” you whisper, your voice a broken, raspy thing in your throat, and he purrs in satisfaction, bucking his hips as he uses a hand to bring a leg up around his hip.

“Please what, dear?” Alastor takes his hand off his cock now, an experimental thrust against you sinking the tip of him inside you, the stretch of it burning in the most delicious way even with how long he had been preparing you. Even he stops to take a moment, a low hiss escaping his lips at how tight you are around him. “Go on- no more edging, this is the last time, and you’ve done so well thus far. Such a well behaved mutt, aren’t you? Tell me what you want.”

And even with the barbed insult in there, the pleasure of his words zips through your body like a bolt of lightning, the floodgates of your voice open and overrun. “Please, please, Alastor,” you whine, and with every word he presses harder into you, spearing you on his length with every cry from your mouth. “God, please, fuck me- please, I- let me cum, I need it, please-”

Alastor finally bottoms out inside you, the heavy weight of his balls slapping against your ass as he grips your hips with an almost possessive ferocity. “Good girl,” he growls, leaning forward to lick and suck at the delicate skin of your throat. It should be frightening, his sharp teeth so close to your jugular, but all you can think about is how fucking perfectly he’s stretching you, the harsh bolts of pleasure that spark through your body and make your head fuzzy as he pulls back only far enough to slam back in, hitting that spot inside that he had been teasing with his fingers and tongue for however long it had been now. “We might make a proper pet of you yet, darling- fuck, you feel too perfect.”

It’s the first time he’s vocalized his own pleasure the entire time, the first bit of praise meant for how your body makes him feel and not just how well you can follow orders. It swims through your brain like the buzz of whiskey, another wave of arousal crashing through you and reflecting in the gush of wetness where you’re connected with Alastor. The feeling of it makes him curse again, eyes glowing black and red as he pulls back and watches you, your mouth open and panting behind the wire cage of the muzzle. You can feel the faint ache of the marks he’s left on your skin, where his teeth had nipped and drawn traces of blood that pool in the soapy water below you. His body snaps sharply each time he thrusts into you, chasing his own orgasm through your body as you cling to him, unintelligible sounds that only seem to spur him on as they fall from your lips.

Another orgasm builds, one that Alastor has promised to actually give to you, and the ‘training’ has been effective enough thus far that your mouth is open before you can consciously think about it. “Close, c-close, please, Alastor- gonna cum, please let me, I’ll be good, fuck-”

“Do it,” he demands, a hand releasing your hip to brush over your swollen clit, sensitive and sore but fuck it still feels good, gives an edge to the need that has you clenching hard around Alastor’s length. “You’ve earned it, so well behaved for me- for me alone, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, yes- please please please, fuck, I-”

The ability to speak leaves you with a well timed and well angled thrust as Alastor fucks into you, fingers rubbing at the sensitive nerves at the apex of your thighs at the same moment; the world beyond the fluttering of your cunt around Alastor’s cock shatters and dissolves into nothingness. You just barely register his own harsh grunts and a couple pulses of white-hot heat inside you before he pulls out, the rest of his cum dripping onto the bare skin of your pussy and combining with the mess you’ve made from your own release.

Slowly the feeling returns to your limbs, everything in your lower body still faintly clenching and twitching with the aftershocks of your orgasm, having been kept at the edge for what felt like hours before you were permitted to take the final leap. When you finally open your eyes, Alastor is still knelt between your thighs- he uses a couple of fingers to scoop the mess of his cum from your skin and push it back inside, the feeling of it making you shiver. Once he’s satisfied, he rubs his thumbs in small circles against the skin of your inner thighs, and it takes a moment to realize what he’s doing.

“Are you fucking- that’s not lotion, asshole,” you say weakly, head falling back against the floor, and he merely chuckles and continues to smear the remnants of his release against your flesh.

He stops, tucking his soft cock back into his pants and doing his buttons back up. “I thought ‘marking one’s territory’ was a dog behavior- one would think you would be flattered! Though I suppose you can always wash it off- you do shower, yes?”

You kick weakly at him, not too irritated when he steps away. You fix your skirt, pulling it down over the evidence of your afternoon. “Fuck off, yes I shower,” you mutter, trying to rise to standing and glaring at your shaky legs when they won’t comply. “Trust me, first chance I get I’m going to- hey!”

Alastor pulls you to standing with his hands under your arms, the motion sending you careening into his chest. He stares down at you for a moment, his hand reaching up to cup the back of your neck, fingers carding softly through your hair. Your pulse stutters and increases as he leans in- was he going to kiss you?- and your eyes clench shut, waiting…

There’s a clink of metal, the straps of the muzzle loosening at last and letting the cage fall from your face, landing neatly in the grasp of a nearby shadow. “I did promise to take the muzzle off if you could behave,” he murmurs. “And you’ve shown me you can- well done.” He steps away then, the muzzle vanishing with a snap and the wrinkles in his clothing straightening out. “I should be off! I put off quite a bit of work for our… training,” he says with a smirk, and you feel the blush light up your face. “Do come see me if you think you can handle more- there’s always more treats to be had for a good pet.” He drops a hand to the top of your head, pats a couple times like one might to a real dog, and fades into shadows just as Niffty appears in the doorway of the kitchen.

She wrinkles her nose. “Phew, it smells like wet dog in here! Did you spill my water? You better not let Alastor find out, I don’t think he likes you very much!“

“Don’t worry, Niff- I need to have a word with him soon anyway,” you mutter. “Let me help you clean this up…”

She fetches the mops, leaving you alone in the kitchen to wonder exactly how open Alastor’s offer to come see him for another ‘session’ was. Judging from the laughter you can almost hear echoing from the shadows at your furious blush when Niffty returns and notices a spot on the floor where Alastor's cum had dripped out of you onto the tiles, you'd say the next time couldn't come fast enough.

#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor #x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #ily frau <3 #hazbin hotel x reader #my stuff <3 #requests <3

185 notes · View notes

theoldsports · 11 months ago

Text

Matrimony

Coriolanus Snow x Reader | 5.7K words

SMUT 18+ ONLY. unprotected sex. possessiveness, flirting, drinking, body image/too tight dress, gaslighting.

THE WEDDING. FINALLY. CLICK HERE TO READ MORE.

The sheets in the large hotel bed were soft and smelled so clean. They lacked the heavy rose smell that lingered in the Snow home. It was a welcome change of pace.

Too bad [Y/N] had hardly slept a wink in them. She was too nervous. It was the day of her wedding, after all.

She didn’t hate Coriolanus. She had before, but she didn’t now, not really. Coriolanus had slept well last night, which he rarely did. He only slept a few hours a night too often. [Y/N] thought her nerves had increased due to the proximity of the wedding, Coriolanus’ had subsided as the day drew closer because it was likely that he thinking he was one day closer to fully having [Y/N] under his thumb. But whoever knew what Coriolanus was thinking?

[Y/N] was worried about saying I love you and I do. She knew Coriolanus didn’t want her to be so anxious about it and reminded her, with a kiss to her forehead each time, that she could do it. He loathed being supportive, but he was getting better at pretending. It was less exhausting for him now.

If nothing else, tonight would be a party and a party meant she would drink and eventually she would blackout, if she was lucky. And Coriolanus would get her back upstairs to their hotel room and fuck her good and hard, so he would be happy. And they would wake up still wed the next morning. And he would be still be haughty and she would still be discontented. And that would be the first day of the rest of their lives.

[Y/N] had watched Coriolanus leave quietly through the door nearly an hour before. The few moments of rest she was able to get from her night of sleep ceased when he pulled his arm off of its nightly home on her waist. He had turned over his shoulder to look at her from the door before he left. One final good, long look. It was funny. Coriolanus never took the time to look back at her. [Y/N] snapped her eyes shut when Coriolanus rocked his weight back onto his heels. [Y/N] hoped he hadn’t seen her blush or fluttering eyelashes. [Y/N] got so excited at the simplest gesture from him. If she were a less careful woman, she may have almost smiled.

He looked at me.

The brief joy was gone with Coriolanus and he was now long gone. [Y/N] finally rolled over to step out of the bed. Her new silk white nightgown alluded to her future that evening. [Y/N] sighed. Her hand crunched against something paper beside her. Coriolanus must have left something. [Y/N] glanced to her right. A white rose from the vase he had requested on the bedside table, free of thorns. [Y/N] smirked. Of course. There was also a note in his curly, slanted script.

Darling,

Big day. It’s likely the next time I see you will be at the alter. Remember, you have nothing to be nervous about. I’ve got you.

And don’t lace your corset so tight you can’t breathe. You’ve got dancing to do.

C.B.S.

He was so good at baiting her into comfort that [Y/N] almost forgot it was baiting. She took at deep breath. I’ve got you. Coriolanus still had not seen the dress, but his educated guess about the corset was spot on. He was always spot on. He paid too close attention. It was shocking that Coriolanus could oscillate from obvious manipulation and intimidation to the man that cared for [Y/N]. Unless the second part was more elaborate manipulation too.

[Y/N] went to the bathroom to piss.

Dark spots on her neck and chest greeted her. They never really faded away. Coriolanus would find new places for them, or mark over the old ones. [Y/N] liked how they looked and certainly how they felt to receive. But what a pain they were to conceal! She should have known better and acquired a high-necked gown way back when. It was a winter wedding, so it wouldn’t have looked out of place.

The beauty parlor would be able to work some of that Capitol magic on them.

[Y/N] looked in the mirror over the sink in the bathroom with the pristine black tile and giant bathtub. She smiled vapidly. That was that. By the end of the day, she would officially be a wife. Her identity would be defined by Coriolanus.

Once, she smiled because her poor decisions would reflect boldly on Coriolanus. Now, [Y/N] worried because it was the other way around. She was a permanent extension of Coriolanus and his aspirations and desires the second she had his name.

She sighed. For better or worse.

[Y/N] crept down to the hotel lobby in large green sunglasses and a hotel robe. It was turquoise. It was a terrible color. Coriolanus would have hated it. She lost her purple sunglasses after the Flickerman interview. Coriolanus did like that. He hated those sunglasses too. The green ones were better to him. A small part of [Y/N] liked knowing that Coriolanus was pleased by what she wore.

She glanced around. No sight of Coriolanus. She didn’t want to break tradition. There was no more room for things going wrong in her life. Across the lobby, [Y/N] went towards the beauty parlor and the wedding shop. She had gone through so many catalogs of dresses and hairstyles and everything must be perfect, only for her to allow to be handled by beauticians who were strangers at the last minute.

Then the hands landed on her waist. [Y/N] gasped, readying herself to scream. The hands pulled her to firm chest and the hands turned into arms, wrapping around her waist and pulling her back beside a ficus and a fern.

She looked down and saw the hands. Pale white hands with rings and a loose bracelet.

Coriolanus Snow, rigid, but never one for following the rules.

“Coriolanus!” [Y/N] squeaked. “You’re not supposed to see me yet. Let go!”

“That’s a silly old story. Saw you this morning.” He whispered with a smirk, holding [Y/N] waist tight.

“It’s… yeah, but—“

“Thought I wasn’t supposed to see the dress. But you—“

“I don’t wanna ruin today—“

“Fine! Fine! Just let me look at you one more time and I’ll let you go,” Coriolanus said. He spun [Y/N] to face him easily. His eyes slid from her eyes through glasses, down her face, her neck, her breasts, back up to her neck. That’s where his eyes greedily stopped. His finger tickled the skin on the right side of her neck where he had left a dark bruise. [Y/N] laughed a little and slotted her face into his hand.

“No thanks to you, the ladies in the parlor will have to work harder on me today.” [Y/N] said, referencing the marks.

“Don’t cover them.” Coriolanus said simply.

“What?”

Coriolanus smiled softly. “Don’t cover them. You look very beautiful.”

“Yeah, didn’t know you had such a sense of humor, Coryo. Could’ve fooled me,” [Y/N] smirked. “It’s our wedding.”

“So?”

“So…” There was no good argument. [Y/N] had done much worse before. They both knew that. She huffed.

“Fine,” he conceded. “Do whatever you want. I’m just saying, if I had to take my shirt off for some reason tonight, my back looks three times worse than your neck.”

[Y/N] blushed. “Yeah, but you eliminated your argument by saying that. Because you are wearing a suit. I’m wearing a low-cut dress.”

Coriolanus gritted his teeth. He was going to say something harsh. He refrained. “So the dress is low-cut?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Fuck!” [Y/N] exclaimed. “No. No more. I’m going,” she tried to pull away from Coriolanus. “Let me go. I’m going. I’ve ruined it,” she jabbed a finger in his chest. “You cursed us. We’re cursed. That’s bad luck.”

“If anyone cursed us,” Coriolanus let go of her waist. “It was you, Darling.” He called as she walked away. [Y/N] shuddered as crossed her arms. He hadn’t meant it, had he? God, he loved it when he made her nervous.

—

[Y/N] had some bridesmaids. She did not love that she had to share the stage and the big fluffy dresses with the ladies, but here she was. Lysistrata was her Maid of Honor. She wanted it to be Clemensia, but Coriolanus said no.

After that, Clemensia refused to be in the wedding party at all. Too bad.

[Y/N] thought she looked good in her white snowy gown. Lovely even. But she was too nervous to focus on much of that beauty.

Everyone would nitpick her dress, her hair, her body, why she of all people was unbreakably becoming the Capitol’s darling’s Darling, among other things. The pressure was high. [Y/N] had not been able to make herself cry either, which was unusual for her. The woman wanted to claw at her skin and tear it off from the itching, nerves and impatience.

Would Coriolanus finally love her tomorrow? Or would he ignore her now that she was belted in permanently as his plaything. [Y/N] didn’t want to be used only when Coriolanus wanted. She would have bitten her nails if they weren’t so well-manicured.

[Y/N] inhaled. Her corset was too tight and she was so nervous. The breath came out ragged. It didn’t relieve her the way that a deep breath was supposed to. She thought back to Coriolanus’ note: And don’t lace your corset so tight you can’t breathe. She hadn’t listened well enough. [Y/N] did not want him to be mad at her. She reached back with shaking hands to try and loosen it, but she couldn’t manage.

I’ve got you.

When she sat down on the bench in the hallway outside of the venue to wait for her father to walk her down the aisle, the pressure shift made the bottom half of her dress’ corset tightened more. The dress was stunning, it was a true. A ballgown, a favorite style of [Y/N]’s. It was indeed low-cut with a beaded white corset pressing her breasts higher. It didn’t make her feel whorish, but it helped her feel beautiful. Over that, she had a wintery long-sleeved translucent mesh top. It was white and was covered with speckles that looked like snow in the places where snow might catch as it sprinkled down. Her veil was less traditional and didn’t cover her face completely. [Y/N] felt freer in it, and Coriolanus wouldn’t have to wrestle with it. Under it, she wore the red heels she had worn at their engagement party. It was sentimental, but that night was one of the first actual lovely memories she had of Coriolanus. Was that memory meant to be lovely? [Y/N] was unsure. She decided she would remember it that way. If she didn’t, she would lose her mind at what she had done to herself.

I’ve got you.

Everything had to be lovely.

The wedding had to be lovely.

“[Y/N],” Her father said, approaching her in a loud colored tuxedo. Gaudy. Tacky. “Stand. Let me look at you,” He muttered, extending his arm to her. [Y/N] did as she was told like she was a child again. The man could barely look at her. They had spoken for the first time since their engagement party at the rehearsal dinner the day prior. Her father was pleased to leave the burden of his disappointment on another man. [Y/N] shifted and did a small spin for her father before taking his arm. She could hear the orchestra playing inside the venue along with the chatter. [Y/N]’s looming father reached behind her and grabbed the ties of her corset and pulled the ends tighter. Her breath hitched. “That’s better.” Her father said. Then, he proceeded to the door to finally give her away.

[Y/N]’s head swam. She had already been laced into the damn corset for what felt like too long but in reality had been a bit over an hour. She coped by taking shallow breaths from her chest and staring straight ahead, unblinking.

The doors parted. [Y/N] hadn’t even realized that had been pulled in front of the doors to the event hall itself. All white and red, like most winter weddings were meant to be, but white and red the way Coriolanus (and by extension [Y/N] now) liked. The bouquet, forgotten, was held straight and clutched tighter. [Y/N] lacquered her smile back on. Being in front of everyone she had ever known made her dizzy. Everyone she had ever known gasped and smiled in delight at her. The music changed. She walked. She wanted to puke. Eventually, she was at the alter. Her ribs ached. Her chest burned. [Y/N] smiled wider.

Coriolanus. His loose blonde curls were determinedly tamed, slicked behind his ears. His unruly hair never did what anyone commanded, so it was an impressive feat. Black tux, white bow tie, red rose; standard. His shoes were also red. Those were new. Did he think about her red shoes from that night often too? Had he snooped and seen her shoes in her tote bag last night even though she told him not to? It must have been his intuition. Best not to read into it. Coriolanus Snow liked red.

He also wore gloves. White and dapper. He looked so clean. Those gloves made sure not a trace of the cruelty he was capable of was visible. No trace left behind.

[Y/N]’s father deposited her in front of Coriolanus with an obligatory kiss to her forehead and walked away. She couldn’t recall walking to the alter. Her knees shook. Coriolanus was tall. Had he always been so tall?

Effortlessly, Coriolanus leaned forward and wrapped his hands behind her waist. [Y/N] thought he had just meant to place his hands on her too-narrow waist to greedily admire what he was capable of manipulating her body into. Instead, he loosened it.

I’ve got you.

What a beautiful scene that must have been. [Y/N] inhaled deeply through her nose as if she had risen from the dead. The world around her felt real again. Everything looked real. “Thank you.” She gasped.

Coriolanus kissed her forehead, much like her father had. Power shown as repetition and reversal of action. “I thought I told you not to cinch it so much.” He whispered softly. Coriolanus tipped her chin up with the fingers under his white leather glove. The pictures of that moment would later be so beautiful.

“I didn’t.”

“Somebody did, Darling… Silly. These are pretty, though.” Coriolanus whispered away from prying microphones. He dragged his finger across her neck, meaning some of the marks she had left uncovered on a stupid whim that was about to share a last name with her, but showcasing her pearl necklace instead.

“For you,” [Y/N] panted back sarcastically. “Can we get on with it?”

“Romantic.” Coriolanus scoffed and leaned away from [Y/N]’s ear. His shoulders unrolled to their full and staggering height, beautiful beast that he was. Coriolanus took [Y/N]’s hand that did not hold a bouquet of red roses in his. She swore she had imagined the circle Coriolanus has ghosted over the back of her hand.

The officiant of the wedding was beckoning everyone to sit. [Y/N] hadn’t realized the attendees had been standing. The officiant wore black as well. He was disgracefully old. [Y/N] looked out the massive picture window over Coriolanus’ shoulder. There was snow outside, too.

The old, frail man cleared his throat and held his arms open to the congregation. “A true lasting marriage requires effort, commitment, and unending understanding. As [Y/N] and Coriolanus declare their partnership on this day, we reflect on the meaning of partnership and its importance to a successful union. Partners, in life, think of one another as capable, but each arriving with their own special skills.” At these words, [Y/N] scoffed. She wondered if Coriolanus thought her capable. Coriolanus stared down at her. No love. No hatred either. He looked at her stoically. She wanted him to look down at her with something. Usually, he did. She wanted an iota of anything.

What happened to I’ve got you.

“Marriage is rarely equal. In marriage, you will often be required to honor commitments you cannot fully understand. The mark of a successful marriage is that you meet these commitments with patience, honesty, and love—even as you fail.

“Over time, you will realize that the burdens placed upon you by life are not loads to be carried—they are opportunities. Each day is an opportunity to be shared with your partner; the dawn of each day brings new experiences.”

[Y/N] felt like vomiting. This was burdensome. Not a burden, a weight. Would Coriolanus help her lift it? Or would he leave her to roll the boulder up the hill each morning on her own? He promised that he would; that he had her back, that he would help, that she would never be left to struggle alone again.

“Your rings and your vows, please.” The old man sputtered. Coriolanus removed his gloves to tuck into his pocket and exposed his beautiful hands. [Y/N] wondered if he had ever played piano. Likely not. He did not own a piano. His hands indicated that he would have been natural to it.

He procured two white gold rings from his breast pocket. One thicker for his own large hand, one daintier with three very small rubies to go with the massive ruby in the daintier still engagement ring. Coriolanus passed her the one meant for his finger.

Now came the part that had [Y/N] worried. Both the words themselves and the memorization of such words. Coriolanus was to begin. Naturally.

Coriolanus inhaled deeply. His chest jumped under his white tie. [Y/N] nearly guessed he was nervous. How could a creature like that get nervous? “I, Coriolanus Snow, take thee, [Y/N] [L/N], to be my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part.” He spoke deceptively calmly. His voice boomed with an authoritarian edge. He had a completely different voice in public than he did in their bedroom. After the words were passed his lips, he smiled. Finally. Finally, he attempted to reveal a feeling. He slid the ring down her left ring finger to its final resting place.

“I, [Y/N] [L/N], take thee, Coriolanus Snow, to be my wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey,” the word that had made her so nervous. Once she said it, everything felt much lighter. The hardest part was over. [Y/N] took that last step to give herself to Coriolanus. He had everything of hers, and now he had her ring finger too. She felt she had rushed the beginning of this vow, so she took her time with the little that remained. “Till death us do part.” [Y/N] concluded as a wife. She pressed his ring onto his ring finger. Slow. Coriolanus couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

[Y/N] dragged her eyes from the hand that dried her tears and gripped her throat, to the eyes that hungered for every morsel of her. [Y/N] handed her bouquet to the woman, whichever one stood closest behind her, and clasped both of her hands against Coriolanus’, like she was supposed to. She would be the best at doing what she was supposed to. From this day forward, [Y/N] would find that she was capable at something and do it effortlessly for Coriolanus. There was no other option.

Lastly, the Capitol’s undying wedding tradition. Handfasting. The officiant spoke again with clinical and precise rhythm. “Handfasting is an old and venerable tradition that dates back more than ten thousand years. As I wrap this ribbon around your hands, I want you to think about what you think marriage means.” The traditional narrow red ribbon cinched together their palms like a corset.

Marriage was… what, a partnership? A trap, a cage… [Y/N] thought back to the beginning of the ceremony. A burden? No. An… Opportunity. Coriolanus Snow was an opportunity. He took a chance with her and her bullshit everyday. She did the same. Everyday would be an opportunity that she would take at all costs. [Y/N] would make it work.

I’ve got you.

“Marriage will deepen your commitment to one another and strengthen the respect and support you each bring to your relationship.

“Your challenge is to grow with one another, to offer each other compassion and understanding, and to take each new challenge and adventure as it comes as a team. With each wrap of the ribbon, I give my blessing as an officiant that your marriage will be so. Let this bond be strong. Let this bond be eternal. I now pronounce you, Mr. and Mrs. Coriolanus Snow.”

As the pair’s hands were cinched even nearer together, [Y/N]’s eyes caught Coriolanus’ in prolonged eye contact. They both looked light. Relieved. It was over. The hard part was over. She swore she even saw Coriolanus smile— not smirk.

“Mr. Snow, you may now kiss your bride.”

Coriolanus did not waste even a second. He tipped his bound hands up and used the force of the action to pull [Y/N] to him. Their lips met in a searing, stinging kiss. Coriolanus pressed down against her, [Y/N] neck strained from turning her head up.

—

Everything was a blur. There was the dance floor, the drinks Coriolanus kept bringing, the hand locked on [Y/N]’s waist. The delicious cake. [Y/N] had smashed a forkful into Coriolanus’ pristine pale face. He had looked both surprised and upset, but he didn’t say anything like the good husband he was becoming. Plus he got the opportunity to get [Y/N] back and do twice the damage. He did this swiftly. Everyday in a marriage was an opportunity. Or something.

[Y/N] had been introduced to many important people Coriolanus worked with but he kept her too drunk and dumb to do much more than nod and keep her up arm protectively glued to Coriolanus’ arm. Especially around some of the prettier woman. She hated seeing his white teeth flash at those other woman. How could they smile like that at him with his wife in her gown right there?

[Y/N] stumbled to the bar for a whisky sour. While she waited on the bartender to mix her drink, she glanced through the bright flashing lights at her husband. The fair-haired man was sitting at their table, chatting with one of his University ‘friends’ that had stopped by to wish them well. [Y/N] glanced back at the bartender.

“Congrats.” The bartender said. [Y/N] squinted at his name tag but barely registered what it said.

“Thank you.” She replied, folding her hands on the bar.

“Some wedding. Very beautiful. You look very beautiful. That’s a hell of a dress, too. Is it hard to move in?”

“No, not really.” [Y/N] smiled slightly.

“Your husband’s been back and forth the the bar a ton. He pretty drunk by now?” Bold. Why had the bartender asked that?

[Y/N] her head. “Most of those were for me. So. How about that whisky sour, hm?” She said, her smile getting tighter and tighter-lipped.

“A man like that would make me wanna drink too.”

[Y/N] had spent much of her relationship with Coriolanus feeling that way, but hearing it from someone else made her upset. She did not like hearing anyone say a damn word about him. Only she was allowed to be upset about Coriolanus. Her eyes narrowed at him. “Excuse me?”

“He’s… He’s tough, no? Cold. Hard exterior. Guys like that freak me out. You seem very different from him. I mean, fuck. Look what he did to your neck. You let him do that? He make you do that?” He shrugged too casually. The stranger was taking much too long to mix a whisky sour. It was an easy drink. How many had he already unknowingly made for her tonight?

“Different maybe,” she started. “But he doesn’t freak me out at all. He doesn’t… Make me do things I don’t want to,” Lie. Not right now, but sometimes, lie. “You don’t know him.”

“Sure, sure, I’m just trying to make conversation.”

“Odd topic choice.”

“Is it?” The man smiled. “I’ve been to enough of these weddings to know that girls like you rarely fall for men like him. Usually, there’s some crying bride at the bar because her parents said they would disown her if she didn’t marry some guy like your blondie over there. You’re keeping it together fairly well, doll.”

“Make the damn drink.” [Y/N] replied.

“Jeez, lady. Just trying to—“

“I think the lady told you to make the damn drink,” Came Coriolanus’ voice and his arm squeezing squeezing like a vice around her waist. She didn’t know how much more that waist could take. “Darling, is this man bothering you?” He asked quietly.

If she said yes, the bartender’s tongue would be cut out, or worse. The young man didn’t know; he had been trying to be nice. But it felt so good when Coriolanus came to her rescue and she had to practice positive reinforcement every now and then.

[Y/N] decided she would do her favorite thing: cry. Coriolanus couldn’t ever ignore her tears. [Y/N] knew her husband loved to fix a bird with a broken wing like herself. She sniffled and blinked a few times, staring dead at the bartender, before the tears started to fall.

“Yes. He is bothering me.” She said. The bartender looked appalled at the psychotic display. Clearly, he had misread her situation. [Y/N] knew she was capable of being nearly as rotten as Coriolanus. This man standing in front of her was about to face the consequences of assumptions. [Y/N] looked up at Coriolanus and placed a hand on his chest. He understood exactly what she wanted. Causing their first scene as a married couple. Milestone.

Coriolanus tightened his grip on her. “Look,” Coriolanus squinted at the bartender’s name tag. “Brutus. Hm. Brutus, do you know what that name means?” He condescended.

“Strong.” The bartender replied, putting his shaker down cautiously.

“Really? Well, I suppose it could contextually. Though, I was under the impression it meant dull,” Coriolanus scoffed. “What have you done, Brutus, to upset my wife so much?” He said Brutus as if he were saying dull.

“N-nothing. Just making conversation.”

Coriolanus smirked and [Y/N]’s grin echoed his, but her teeth were straighter. They both liked it when they had someone uncomfortable enough to stumble over their words. “Just making conversation? Did he touch you, dear?” Coriolanus asked. The punishment for touching her would be losing a hand or two. The fellow made a decent drink. She didn’t want him to lose that gift.

[Y/N] sniffled, tugging at Coriolanus’ heartstrings. “No,” sniffle. “He was only running his mouth. He thinks I sh-shouldn’t have married you.”

Coriolanus dragged his blue eyes between [Y/N] and Brutus. “Why shouldn’t we be married?” Coriolanus asked too easily. It was a trap. Brutus shook his head and opened his mouth to speak. “No, please, go ahead. I’m just making conversation. What was it that you said to my wife, here? I’m curious now.”

There was silence. Brutus hung his head uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Sir. [Y/N] knew Coriolanus would like that.

“Jealous? Think you could please my wife better than I could? Am I on the right track?” Coriolanus leaned down to press his lips against weeping [Y/N]’s neck from behind as he spoke to Brutus.

Drunk and dumb from the stress, the alcohol and his touch, [Y/N] reached her hand up to tangle it into Coriolanus’s curls. He didn’t protest for once. Her fingers cut through his hair product and lodged in place, giving his hair a gentle tug. “How’s this for you?” Coriolanus murmured, staring at Brutus and touching [Y/N] disgustingly.

[Y/N] wasn’t sure if it lasted minutes or hours, staring the bartender down like that. Coriolanus pulled her into the lobby and up the stairs to their hotel room. She couldn’t remember exactly if Coriolanus had made the two of them say a proper goodnight to the remaining party attendees. She still had her shoes on, so she would settle for being impressed with herself for that.

Coriolanus unlocked the door to their room and propped it open with some difficulty.

“What are you doing?” She asked tiredly.

“Well, Mrs. Snow, you went on about so many little traditions this week, so I figured I would gift you this.” Coriolanus scooped [Y/N] clumsily into his arms and carried her over the threshold of the room. [Y/N] smiled at his gesture.

Coriolanus walked with her in his grasp until he set her down on the bed with a muted thump. He turned back to the door and closed it. [Y/N] stared up at Coriolanus as he returned. The jacket of his tux and his red shoes had vanished on his walk back.

[Y/N] was quite surprised that Coriolanus had remained in what seemed to be such a decent mood for him all day. The smile or smirk or snarl still lingered on his plush mouth. “Hi.” [Y/N] said.

“Hello,” Coriolanus replied, cocking his head. “That dress really is something else,” he said. His eyes wandered grotesquely over her body. “What did your family think?”

“Barely saw my mother. She was at the bottom of a bottle of posca. Father thought my corset was too loose.” She wiped the remaining wet spots from tears off of her cheeks.

Coriolanus nodded knowingly. “Ah, so you can follow instructions. It was him that locked you in that thing…” his eyes hadn’t moved from her breasts which threatened to spill from her top from laying at this angle. “May I help you out of it?”

She blushed red. “The note you left…” [Y/N] started. “Sweet, by the way. How did you know it was corseted. Did you peek?” She slurred.

“Lucky guess,” Coriolanus said too quickly for the remark to be truthful. “Do me a favor and obey your husband. Turn over. I want it off.”

[Y/N] popped off her memorable red heels and rolled gracelessly onto her stomach so that Coriolanus could undress her how he liked. He crept onto the bed and straddled her thighs with some difficulty from the dress’ bulk. His fingers got to work with the silk cord. [Y/N]’s ability to take low, full breaths increased with each movement of his nimble fingers. “Coryo, what’ll happen to that man from the bar…” [Y/N] quietly.

“That’s none of your concern. He’ll be dealt with for the way he spoke to you, don’t worry,” Coriolanus said, undoing the buttons of her dress now. “No one’s going to get away with speaking to my wife like that. Not now, not ever,” My wife, not you. Because he loved her and they were eternally bound. Or because she was an extension of his existence— nobody talked to him like that. Coriolanus manipulated her body like a doll to get her out of her wedding dress until she was down to her snow white lingerie and garters. “Fuck.” He said at the sight with eyes as wide as saucers.

“It’s adequate?”

“More than adequate,” In an instant, Coriolanus was on her. He was unclipping her garters and pulling her dampened lacy panties down. “You’ve outdone yourself, Mrs. Snow.”

“Fuck me. Please. Really. Not just fingers, or something.”

“Hm,” Coriolanus started. “I should marry you more often.”

Coriolanus pulled off his own trousers and boxers without complaint. [Y/N] sighed happily. “Tell me you love me.” She said.

“What?”

“I don’t care if you don’t mean it. Tell me you love me.” She stressed. [Y/N] wanted the silhouette of a normal wedding night even if it wasn’t one.

Coriolanus said his I love yous while he expertly rubbed [Y/N] clit, who cares if he was sincere or not. Neither one of them knew if he was sincere or not and either would do well enough.

The sex, however, was anything but transactional.

By the look of it, Coriolanus had long been hard in his pants. [Y/N] knew exerting some sort of power over that man at the bar in her honor would have gotten him all riled up. After noticing [Y/N] was already shockingly wet, he pressed his hands into the pillows beside her head and pushed his cock into her easily. “Damn. You’re so wet,” he grunted. Coriolanus scrunched his blue eyes shut. He began to set a pace; much slower than he normally would, less brutal too. He was gentle. Almost. Completely gentle was not a setting he came equipped with.

Coriolanus had never fucked [Y/N] without protection before (that [Y/N] could remember, at least). She made no move to stop him. They didn’t have any barriers left to worry about since they were married. Both silently agreed to never go back. He felt so much better in her this way.

[Y/N] moaned when his right hand moved between them to keep stimulating her. “Good, that’s good,” She said, reaching up to grip his shoulders. Her hands crept further up to grab his hair. She loved his hair, even if he fought hard against her about it so often. “Is this good for you?” [Y/N] whispered.

Coriolanus snapped his icy eyes open and plunged his head into her cleavage in reply. The lacy bra she wore was in his way, even if he thought it did [Y/N] beautiful favors. With one hand and his teeth, he ripped the bra right down the middle. “Better now,” he smirked darkly. Coriolanus slid one of her nipples past his lips. Coriolanus could conduct her moans and pants like a symphony. He knew exactly how to get his most desire response out of her. Coriolanus fucked and rubbed faster, but resisted sliding a hand around her throat and squeezing. At least for the first round as a married couple.

She could get used to the soft way he touched her. Mr. and Mrs. Snow. This caring front felt like it could almost last forever to [Y/N]. Too bad it was a front. She let out a high breathy gasp. The sound she knew he liked best.

Coriolanus was glad they had no plans tomorrow. One more sound like that and his hand would have no choice but to squeeze around her windpipe. She was always so beautiful like that. He changed his mind from weeks before as he looked at her from sucking at her nipples.

This is how he wanted to remember his Mrs. Snow. Makeup dripping, moaning beyond control, eyes rolled back and ripped and fucked out of her dress and lingerie. Because only he could make her feel like that for the rest of her life.

“I love you.” [Y/N] breathed, but she didn’t mean it, not really.

“I love you too.”

It was almost the truth.

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @arminsarlerts @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @taykorsyogurt @ndycrls @watermelonharry @nananarwhal @ohantonia @catlover420sstuff @justaproudslytherpuff @notarabellasstuff @scarytiger111 @zucchinimalfoy @secretsicanthideanymore @h-l-vlovesvintage @dannydevsbbg @clintsupremacy @lookclosernow @10ava01 @or-was-it-just-a-dream @lucielsstuff @fairyydvst @spencereidbasis @a-mellifluous-life @daenerysqueenofhearts @heavqn @dangelnleif @lapisthelovely @wotcherpeak @24kmar @kaealowri @weeeoosworld @dilucpegg3r @bai-wuxiangs-mask @kisstheskin

as always, apologies for the tags that did not work. love you all.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games #the hunger games #truculent series #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #coryo snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x reader #ballad of songbirds and snakes

516 notes · View notes

theodorequartz · 9 months ago

Text

[ His Companion ] Hazbin Hotel Various x Male Reader

Chapter 1: Naturally

Third person POV:

" RISE AND SHINE, MY BABY'S! ITS ANOTHER FUCKING DAY! ~" Blitzø yelled, kicking the door down.

Loona groaned and hid her face in her pillow. Meanwhile, a beautifully handsome male sat up, his hair still slightly messy, making him look more on the cute side.

" Morning, Blitzø..." The male yawned.

" Good Morning! Love of my life~" Blitzø said winking and finger gunning the male. Which was replied with a chuckle.

The male sat up and got to the bathroom to get ready. He walked out to see Blitzø in the floor with his face smashed to the concrete, it created dents from the force. He also saw Luna walk away grumbling.

He chuckled slightly and walked to Blitzø to help him up.

" Thanks for letting me stay for the night, Blitzø. I really appreciate it. " The male said softy with a gentle smile.

" Heh. No problem, babe. In fact, you can stay forever if you want~ ACK-!!! " Blitzø got hit by an empty alcohol bottle in the head. The male blinking in surprise.

" M/n's not your damn boyfriend, Blitzø! Stop fucking clinging to him everytime! " Loona screamed from behind the door, it's glass shattered because of the object thrown in it.

M/n chuckled and picked up the broken glass, cleaning the floor after helping Blitzø up again.

" No worries, little pup. Blitzø's behavior is totally okay for me. Everyone needs some affection now and then, do they? Especially since your work is full of violence. " M/n said also picking up pieces of little shard glass in his head, giving it a soft pat after.

Blitzø purred and his tail curled to a heart.

" Aww, n/n~ you're soo good to me~ " Blitzø said, hugging the male's legs and rubbing his head in M/n's waist.

M/n laughed in response and pat Blitzø's head once again.

Loona gagged at her dad- ahem. Adopted dad's words.

" Well, I'll be off then. I still have work to do. I'll see you both next week?" M/n said as he took his belongings and put his coat. Blitzø sighned.

" You know you can just work for me, right? Just ditch whoever your boss is. I'm better!" Blitzø loudly expressed his discontent.

M/n just sighned and shook his head gently. Taking Blitzø's hands off his hips and straighten his coat. " I'll see you soon, Blitzø, Loona. Stay safe, both of you, alright?" M/n said smiling.

Blitzø grumbled but nodded his head and turned around to pout. M/n chuckled and patted his head once more, nodding to Loona as she waved him goodbye.

M/n walked out the door and walked to the loud, chaotic street. Stabbing, shooting, drugs, drunks, killing, destroying, more killing, fucki- he turned away his head from that one.

He bumped on someone making him stagger. The other, however, fell down to their ass, and they didn't seem happy about it.

" Oh. I apologize, sir. Are you alright?" M/n asked the fallen demon, reaching out his hand to help him. The demon slapped his hand away, however, in rage.

" WATCH WHERE YOUR LOOKING AT, DUMBASS!!" The demon screamed at his face as he got up, holding his tie.

" Now, now, dear sir. No need to sort this out on violence." M/n said calmly, not affected by the situation at all.

Some demons watched the commotion. Others just glanced and walked passed by them, as if it's an everyday occurrence. Which probably is since this is hell and all.

The demon was about to shout at him again but stopped and looked at him up and down and smirked.

" Well, I guess we can take this matter on a not-so-violent activity~" the demon proceeded to grip M/n's arm and pulled him to an empty, dark alley. M/n didn't resist, he didn't have to waste his strength on a soon-to-be corpse.

The demon turned around and pushed him to the wall. The demon smirked and licked his lips, walking towards M/n with a lustful look in his eyes. M/n simply stood there, hands on his back, like a butler.

Not even three steps from the demon he broke out screaming.

Blood rushed out of his eye sockets. He gurgled as his tongue was cut out of his mouth.

As the demons body fell down in pain, a demon, dressed in all red. Red hair fading to black, two antlers and ears resembling that of a deer. A cheshire smile on his face. His eyes glitching. He filled the alley with sounds of static, that of a radio.

The Radio Demon. One of the most powerful sinners of all hell. He's mere presence can make anyone piss their pants, run off, hide, and be on their full guard.

But M/n is not anyone. He merely smiled and put his hand in his heart, bowing slightly.

" My lord." M/n said in a soft voice, a greeting for his master.

The radio demon. Alastor. Soften his cheshire grin to a relaxed smile. He twirled his staff in his hand and walked towards his companion.

" M/n, my dear! I'm sorry for the late arrival, just some business with the big boss! " Alastor said in a voice much like a radio host in a broadcasting radio. It's oddly charming. For M/n, at least.

The statics had gone down after M/n's voice was heard. It was as if the noice had gone to stop abruptly just to hear M/n's voice. To hear it clearly. The demons cries had gone out to, probably passed out due to the pain or Alastor made him pass out due to how loud he was being.

" His highness, Lucifer? " M/n asked as he walked forward, closing the distance between him and the deer demon.

" Precisely, my dear. Well, we didn't really have time to finish because" Alastor glanced at the passed out demon. His eyes dimming.

M/n blinked.

" My lord, you did not have to cut your time from such an important task to a simple cause as this." M/n said. " I could have just handled it."

Alastor turned his eyes to stare at his once more. He closed the distance, he lowered his head and caressed his companion's face. Just as the day they first met, his cheek was soft and felt pleasantly cold, chilly in his hands. His thumb glazed to his cheek as M/n leaned to his hand.

" I'll always choose you above everything else, my dear." Alastors words warmed M/n's heart. It itched and filled up his soul.

M/n sighed, content. He raised both of his hands towards the other's face as well, cupping it. He leaned his forehead onto his and closed his eyes.

" You're too good to me, my lord."

Alastor chucked and closed his eyes as well.

" Naturally. "

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin lucifer #male reader #alastor x reader #lucifer x reader #helluva boss x reader #blitz x reader #helluva fanart #hazbin hotel

288 notes · View notes

martamatta95 · 2 months ago

Text

Ideas for a story:

Vox is tired of arguing with Valentino, arguing with Alastor and the demands of Hellborn, sinners and Sins regarding the electricity that he provides, thanks to his power, to all of Hell.

He decides to take a month's sabbatical by hiding in a villa far from Pentagram City, after having staged his death in a spectacular way (because he is a sadistic asshole) and having cut off the electricity to everyone.

The only one who knows about his plans is Velvette who enjoys the chaos around her unleashed by the actions of the TV Demon.

Hell explodes with discontent and every single inhabitant realizes how much they need Vox.

Valentino gets depressed and locks himself in Vox's room clinging to the sheets to smell the man who, now that he has lost, he has realized he loves.

Alastor begins to realize how boring life is without his rival and finds himself missing Vox's attentions, the "death" of the TV Demon has affected him more than he's willing to admit.

The entire staff of the hazbin hotel also finds themselves involved, when heaven issues an ultimatum for another attack, and without Voxtek's defenses or electricity, the clash could prove lethal for the inhabitants of hell.

In the end, Valentino and Alastor find themselves unlikely partners in searching for the TV Demon in a sadistic treasure hunt created by Velvette.

The two Overlords find themselves in a ruthless romantic rivalry, as they both covet Vox's heart and this triggers sabotage and clashes between them.

Who will win the heart of the sexiest man in hell? Will they arrive in time to warn Vox of the danger?

My native language is not english so i apologize for any mistakes

99 notes · View notes

simphornies · 9 months ago

Text

A/N: The final part! This was definitely a ride. I hope you all enjoy! Who knows...Maybe I'll write an epilogue <3

Word count: 3k (3,038) Warnings: violence, reader goes kinda crazy for a little bit, nifty behavior

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

Deal Breaker [ Vox x Angel!Reader ] FINALE

“Alastor!”

The voice was all too familiar. Vox opened his eyes to see your silhouette in the dust and smoke. Your hands were stretched out to your side, blocking any attack from landing on him. He didn’t want to believe it but you were really there. In front of him. He was speechless.

“Alastor stand down!” You screamed. “He’s had enough. He won’t be another voice in your broadcast. I cannot allow it.”

Alastor shrunk down to his regular form, disappointed but compliant. His ears lay flat on his head showing his discontent but it quickly faded away as soon as he saw your wings weren’t lifted. They were dragging behind you. “Y/N, my dear, your wings…” Worry laced his voice, something nobody had ever expected.

“I’m fine. I need to tend to everyone else. But first-” You turned your body to face Vox, “I need to deal with the Vees.” You looked him in the eye and Vox broke at the sight of seeing you in that state in front of him. Only four of your wings were up while two were down, golden blood covering them. Your eyes were puffy and filled with tears but you didn’t look sad. He opened his mouth to speak but the pain caught up to him. He coughed out blood and clutched the crack across his screen before powering down.

You caught him before he hit the floor and carried him in your arms. “Bring them all inside. Lucifer, we’ll fix the damages as soon as I deal with this bullshit.” He simply nodded and made the two Vees float on in while you carried Vox inside. You were gentle when you set Vox down on the couch while Lucifer dropped the other two, making them exclaim out in pain.

“Did you have to drop me on my face?” Valentino complained. Lucifer shrugged and gave him a smug look, “Whoops!” He laughed, making Valentino growl.

“Watch it, moth.” You hissed. You stood up tall and loomed over them, your wings fully spread out with the exception of two. Your heavenly glow made them squint in response. Maybe it was the adrenaline but you felt no pain. “I must applaud the audacity the two of you had.” You knelt down and grabbed their faces harshly. “To no avail, of course. But the attempt was there, though not something to take pride in.” You pushed their faces away in disgust, wiping your hands off as if they were the filthiest things you’ve ever touched. You began to pace around them with your hands behind your back. “Tell me, demons. Do you value your lives now? Do you value your power? Your status? Your money?” You asked. They didn’t respond.

Your hair and wings were covered with eyes as you flared up at them, “I asked a question.” You stabbed each of their legs with two angelic daggers, “Please. Do answer.”

“Yes.” They said in unison, breathing unevenly due to the pain.

The hotel staff felt fear watching you lose composure. It was a rare sight and nobody dared to speak up. Besides Lucifer. “Yeah you tell ‘em, bitch!” He cheered you on, making Charlie face palm at the comment.

“I suspected so.” You smiled sweetly at them, the same smile you give every sinner you’ve met. But this smile was a facade for you felt pure unbridled rage at the fact that they thought they could bring this tower down with meager attempts. You pulled the daggers out, making them scream.

“How about we make a deal?” You offered, hand held out knowing they wouldn’t even be able to shake it.

“What do you want?” Velvette asked, voice shaking.

“Nothing much. I just want you both to never fuck with us again and never even think about doing so. And…” You trailed off.

“And?” Valentino’s voice was shaky too. Angel Dust found pleasure at the sight, sneaking in a photo.

“And your souls, of course!” You happily exclaimed, folding your hands together. Their eyes widened before glaring at you.

“And what if we say no?” Velvette contested.

“Well…That certainly is an option. Of course, you can say no.” You hummed, pacing around them once again. “But know that once you do…The power, the status, the money, your businesses…Well. They will simply no longer exist!” You smiled.

“Wh-what?” Valentino’s voice was small. He was terrified.

“You fucking bitch you can’t do that!” Velvette screamed and tried to jump at you. You flicked her away effortlessly with your wing, sending her back down with Valentino.

“Ah but I can, my sweet sinner!” You smiled at her, “The King of Hell can make that entire building disappear with a snap of a finger! Isn’t that right, Luci?”

Lucifer nodded and stood with pride, his hands on his hips, “Sure can! Effortless too.” He grinned.

“And without this deal in place, Alastor will be free to do whatever his morbid little heart desires with you two!” You spin around happily, “Why, that would make a fantastic broadcast, don’t you think so, Alastor?”

“It would be one of my best ones!” He grinned, his aura darkening.

“Fine! Fine.” Velvette gave up, “We’ll make the fucking deal.”

“Wonderful choice!” You clapped, “Nifty, dear! Come here please.”

Nifty came running to your side, laughing maniacally.

“Oh fuck why is she here?” Valentino tried his best to squirm away from the little demon child, fearing his life.

“Because! You’ll be giving her your souls.” You gave them an innocent look.

“WHAT?” Everyone, with the exclusion of Lucifer, Alastor and Nifty, screamed in unison.

“Who would own you better than this one here? She hardly cares for such things and I do believe that it would be such a wonderful gift for her. She’s done so much for the hotel and I think I should award her with something more…hellish!” You placed your hands on Nifty’s shoulder, “Do you want to own your own souls, Nifty?”

She nodded excitedly, “Ready!” She cackled. “I want my own souls.”

Velvette and Valentino were sweating in fear, a little bit terrified of the tiny one-eyed demon. “Ah but of course, if you try to do anything to her. Well…Let’s just say you’ll get what you give!” You pushed Nifty closer. With a snap of your fingers a written contract appeared in front of the two Vees and they were allowed to hold the pen that came with it.

“Sign right there on the line stating that your soul is now ours combined. There’s quite a couple of fine prints in there though I don’t think you’d need to read it considering you will never harm this hotel, its staff and whoever they’re involved with ever again.”

Velvette and Valentino signed their souls away, their scleras turning black. Lucifer released them from their binds and you shook their hands. “Wonderful doing business with you two!” Your smile quickly dropped to a glare. You wiped your hands as soon as you let go of them. “Now go home.”

Velvette and Valentino wasted no time leaving the hotel, almost tripping over the mess they created on their way out. For a moment, it was silent. Alastor stood by, impressed at your devilish behavior. Angel Dust was relishing in the fact that you kicked Valentino’s ass, showing off the photo he took to Husk. Nifty just went straight to sweeping. Charlie and Vaggie ran to you, giving you a tight but careful hug.

“Y/N…I thought we lost you.” Charlie sobbed. You hugged the two back, your healthy wings wrapping around them.

“It’s going to take a lot more than that to get rid of me. I wouldn’t have made it out okay without you guys.” You smiled. You pulled away and wiped the tears in Charlie’s eyes, “It’s okay, Charlie. I’ll be fine.”

Lucifer claps his hands together, “So…” He smiles, “Should we get to fixing or…”

You laughed at him, “Yes. I’ll catch up with everyone. I have one more person to deal with.” You looked at Vox, your heart heavy. His screen was off, sparks still flying out of his screen. “Before you all leave though, do we still have Sir Pentious’ tools and manuals?”

Vox powered back up. He winced as his body still remembered the pain from the earlier fight. He looked around the unfamiliar room on an unfamiliar bed. He sat up slowly and as he did, he caught a glimpse of himself in a nearby mirror. His screen was fixed, not up to his standards, but he didn’t have the crack across his screen anymore. His screen was completely replaced. His ears finally caught on to the sounds of construction outside.

You opened the door to your room with some books on how to fix screens. Upon seeing Vox awake, you dropped them and ran to his side. “Vox! You’re awake. How’s your screen? Does it feel okay? Despite my lack of knowledge on fixing technology, I did my absolute best to fix the crack. The wiring-”

Vox cut your rumbling off by pulling you into a tight hug. He held you with fear that he might never get this chance again. He was afraid that if he let go, that’ll be the last he’ll ever see of you. It wasn’t until he felt you hug him back that he relaxed and sobbed into your shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Was all he could muster in between his cries.

You let him ride his emotions out, not letting go until he calmed down and stopped glitching. When he did you pulled away from him. “Vox…”

“I know! I lied. I lied about a lot and…And I let my pride stop me from coming sooner.” He started, “Even if you don’t believe me, please give me a second chance and your trust when I say that I am so fucking sorry. You opened my eyes a lot and I’m sorry.” He looked down with shame, unable to look you in the eye.

“Vox. I know. I get it.” You sat on the bed next to him, “I’ll admit that it pained me when I found out you lied about Alastor. I was shattered. I was stuck between choosing my dear friend and, well, you. If I’m being completely honest, trusting you again after that…that elaborate and evil plan is difficult.”

He sighed, guilt engulfing him.

“But, if there’s one thing I learned here that I didn’t in Heaven is that everybody deserves a second chance.” You said softly. He finally looked up at you. You weren’t looking at him but instead you looked at the group picture that everyone took together when you first arrived. “I’m going to need an explanation, a detailed one and then…” You turned to face him, “And then we’ll make that deal.”

He looked at you dumbfounded. He didn’t understand why you’d give him another chance let alone reconsider the thing that started this all to begin with. “Y/N, I don’t care for that deal anymore. I want to make it up to you. For everything.”

“Let’s change that first one then.” You phased in the original contract you two had created when you first met and ripped the unsigned contract in half. “Promise me you won’t ever lie to me again and in return, I shall do the same.” You held out your hand to which he gladly shook.

“You have my word.” The deal was sealed as he shook your glowing hand. “Now…Let’s start from the beginning.”

It took a while for him to cover everything from the initial plan to how it ended up like this. He covered the first half quickly but slowed down at a certain point.

“And then when we came back from the hotel and you stayed in my building with me…” He trailed off. “Well I…”

You tilted your head to the side, “You…?”

“I came to the realization that I truly fell in love with you.” He confessed. Your face flushed in response.

“Me?” You gasped out, “No. You couldn’t have.” You awkwardly laughed, “What is there to love about me?”

“Look at your friends, Y/N! They truly admire you and trust you. You’re a being worthy of trust and love. You protected this hotel and left your home behind for sinners.” He began, “Your heart is a blessing. You’ve saved them outside of battle. You became their deal breaker, freeing them from their chains. Even when you’re hurt, you always do the right thing. You’re forgiving. Your beauty goes past your brain and your looks. Your entirety, your soul. It’s all beautiful. And anyone that can’t be changed by that is fucking stupid.”

You blush at his flattery, your heart pounding out of your chest. But he didn’t stop.

“And me? I didn’t fall in love with you for your power or for how pretty you look. Even if it did kickstart this whole thing,” He laughed, “You’re kind. You find joy in everything even in the worst places. You’re strong and resilient and your heart is in the right place. The look in your eyes when you saved me, it…it broke me in a way that I’ve never felt. I don’t want you to ever feel that pain again. And I don’t want somebody to try and pull the same shit I did to you. Allow me by your side, forever and always.” He held your hand, giving you a soft kiss on your knuckles, “And let me be yours as I want you to be mine. No bullshit attached.”

“Vox…” You smiled sweetly, tears in your eyes. “You speak such nonsense at times.” You laughed.

“It’s true, angel. I don’t know if it’s some magic of yours but, I’ll leave it all behind. You are my pride.”

“Vox. I adore you. I do. I fell in love with you with your acts of service, your gift giving. You truly spoiled me. As much as I absolutely want to kiss you right now, words are nothing but words. Actions are what truly matters.” You responded.

“I’ll do anything Y/N! I’ll lea-Did you just say you’d kiss me right now?” He paused, his screen warming up.

“Yes! I absolutely do. But you just…You hurt me Vox. You absolutely shattered me.” You got up and flared your wings at him. At that moment, he saw your injured wings. They were wrapped up with sticks holding them in one position to heal. “I thought you were going to die from all of that. And to think!” You started to cry in front of him, “To think my last thought of you would have been betrayal! Do you understand how badly that hurt me? You could have died and I would have been left wondering if you truly meant everything. If you truly did love me! And when I couldn’t reach you with this watch, I thought you were dead!” You were hysterical.

Vox got up, ignoring his pain and cupped your face in his hands. “I can’t tell you how much I want to stab myself right now seeing you cry over me.” He wiped your tears away and you’ve never seen such sadness in his eyes before.

You kissed Vox in the heat of the moment, your arms wrapping around him. He shut his eyes and kissed you back and for once it wasn’t filled with lust. He felt different. He felt love. Your crying ceased and you just held him close, not wanting to part with him.

“Help me trust you again. And then you’ll be mine as I’ll be yours, forever and always.” You smiled, wiping the remnants of your tears from the corners of your eyes away, “But can you please tell me how to properly fix you. I fear that my lack of skill with wiring affected you.”

He laughed and hugged you. “Is that really something you’re worried about right now?”

“Yes! I don’t know how much my heart can take if you catch on fire! And lay back down! You’re in no condition to be up at this moment.” You forced him back down, basically tucking him in. You held his hand in yours, this time you gave him a kiss on his knuckles.

Charlie came in to check in on you two and excitedly gasped at the sight of you two making up. She hugged you two a bit too tightly, making Vox groan in pain. “Oops! Sorry! I’m just so glad you two made up!” She exclaimed.

“Oh…Vox I may have forgotten one thing…” You trail off.

“What?”

“Well! Since the two other Vees kinda maybe sort of ruined our new building a little bit, I proposed to Y/N that you stay here at the hotel to make up for it!” She grinned.

Vox blinked and stared at her, and then to you, and back at her. “With…Alastor?”

As if on cue, Alastor teleported next to Vox on the bed. “Yes!” He grinned, a bit too menacingly for the situation. He screamed in response and almost fell off the bed. Alastor played a laugh track as soon as he heard the thump on the floor.

“Alastor!” You said with a scolding tone.

“Ah don’t fret, Y/N! I’m just having a little bit of fun!” He flipped on his stomach and started to kick his legs in the air, “I do just revel in watching others suffer! Haha!”

“Even if you’re not trying to get into Heaven, I think having you here will be a good start to becoming a better person!” Charlie smiled, “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”

Vox sighs, “Alright alright, I guess I’ll give this shit a shot for real this time.” He got up and rubbed the spot he landed on, “But seriously do not put me next to Alastor!”

You took his hand in yours, “You need not worry about that, Vox. You’ll be staying with me.” You smiled. “Oh and I own Val and Velvette’s souls now.” Vox didn’t know whether he should be shocked about staying in your room or the fact that his overlord friends lost so badly that they no longer own their own souls.

“...What.”

Taglist!: @emekeneme @ghostdoodlen @chewbrry @dawko-fanpage @lofasofabread @hxzbinwrites @rapunzelbro @elsihiaweee @blackrose8425 @dickmastersworld @lofasofabread @rosiethevoxobesser @themetalbabygirl @markster666 @riskyraiker @fadingflowers-world (it still won't let me tag the two of you)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vees #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel vox #slow burn #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel fanfiction

170 notes · View notes

yesihaveaobsession · 9 months ago

Text

movie night

alastor x reader (charlie mentioned)

disclaimer: "titanic" is iconic and the ship is beautiful, and it's ashamed it happened but I do not like love stories hence why I don't like "titanic" I know alot of people like it but it ain't me.. and I thought this was a cute thing to write 🤷🏼‍♀️

summary: after Charlie chooses "titanic" for a movie night, the reader hates it and alastor finds their reaction entertaining .

As the Hazbin Hotel residents settled in for a movie night, Charlie gleefully selected "Titanic" as the evening's entertainment. Your heart sank at the mere mention of the film's title. You had endured the tragic love story one too many times, and each viewing only served to deepen your disdain for it.

Seated beside you, Alastor, with his trademark grin, suggested they indulge in the cinematic classic, undoubtedly aware of your aversion. You shot him a glare that could freeze Hell over, but he only chuckled in response, clearly amused by your discomfort.

Resigned to enduring the movie, you begrudgingly watched as the familiar scenes unfolded on screen. Every overwrought line and melodramatic moment grated on your nerves, and you couldn't help but emit the occasional grumble of discontent. Alastor, however, found your disgruntled reactions utterly entertaining, his giggles blending with the film's soundtrack.

Despite your best efforts to maintain your composure, Alastor's infectious laughter eventually broke through your resolve. By the time the credits rolled, you couldn't help but crack a reluctant smile at his antics, begrudgingly acknowledging his ability to find amusement in the most trying of situations.

As the lights came back on, you shot Alastor one final dirty look, but he only grinned back, his crimson eyes twinkling mischievously. In that moment, you couldn't help but appreciate his knack for injecting a bit of levity into an otherwise dreary experience, even if it meant enduring "Titanic" once again.

#alastor x you #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #i have an obsession

157 notes · View notes

thollandneedy · 4 months ago

Text

Fill Up the Room- Nathan Drake

A/n: Enemies to lovers always wins my heart

Warnings: Cursing and suggestive content

Don’t forget to share, like, comment and leave your ideas here

Summary: Y/n and Nathan are always teasing each other, but things get different when they confess their feelings

Bellah’s Masterlist 🪻

“ Ugh, finally” Y/n grunted, throwing one of his suitcases on the floor and letting his body touch the double bed of the seaside hotel.

On the other side of the bed, Nathan Drake sighed deeply, trying to understand how he could get back to his original position and find Sully. One of his hands found his face, pulling it down as a gesture of discontent. If it hadn't been for Y/n's failed plan, maybe they wouldn't be stuck in a hotel by the beach, and maybe Nathan would have found the lost treasure he had longed for as a child. In Y/n's view, all this was completely the opposite, since Nathan didn't take his job seriously (in his view), and was too imaginative when it came to fights and escapes.

“Finally,” Nathan grumbled disdainfully at the comment, turning his head away and heading for the bathroom.

“Why don't you say it to my face, since you're mumbling all the time?” Y/n sat down on the bed, casting a judgmental glance at his fellow adventurer.

“Because you know very well that this is your fault.” The brunette replied, turning his body towards where the woman was.

“My fault?” The girl points at herself, and laughs in denial. “It was you who drank too much wine yesterday, and simply woke up late to take our cab. When we got to the plane, you couldn't wait for my signal. You had to do everything first and send us to the fucking middle of the ocean in a box full of who knows what.” Y/n stood up, moving towards him as she spoke.

The room's wooden windows couldn't hide the fight they were having, and the translucent curtains couldn't hide the fact that there were two people fighting.

“You had a shitty plan to attack from behind, taking out whoever was flying. Then Sully and I would attack the other mobsters, but we'd all fall into the water and probably die. Are you sure the problem started with me, darling? Because as far as I knew, you were the reason I was late this morning” The brunette moved closer to the girl, crossing his arms as he completed the sentence.

Their breaths were almost mingling, but Y/n was distracted by the fact Nate had mentioned. The girl frowned, moving a little away from the image of Nate, who was now looking at her in confusion, thinking that she would remember what had happened last night after they'd had several glasses of wine after dinner at the hostel.

"Oh my God. You really don't remember?” The man laughed to himself, giving a slight smile.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Nathan?” Y/n asked hesitantly.

"After the drinks we had, and the long sleep Sully was having, we kissed. We didn't get to have sex, but his hands know very well where to touch.” Nate says, then gets a push on the shoulder.

"Shut up. That never happened. If it had, I would have remembered it perfectly. I'm not some irresponsible girl, and by the way, even though I drank a lot last night, I got up early.” Y/n says angrily, causing Nate to laugh.

"You just don't want to accept the facts, love. Accept that this is what we have.” Nate points at himself and then at Y/n. ”It's just a little lie, and you like my company and the boyish style on your side. You feel superior to me, and you like to be in control.” Y/n turns around, but Nathan's strong hand grabs her wrist without hurting her, bringing her close to his body full of sea salt on his clothes.

“You're crazy to believe that I would allow myself to like someone like you.” Y/n growls, but doesn't try to pull her fist out of the adventurer's grasp.

"So you didn't like Chloe because she was hitting on me? Or was there some reason why you two didn't get along?”

“It's not all about you, Nathan.” Finally, Y/n pulls his wrist tightly to himself and heads for the bathroom to cool off.

The brunette hears the door slam, then sits down on one of the sofas in the suite to think of ways to find the new routes to the lost treasure. The hours passed, and finally the moon took its place in the sky, allowing the light of the candles to illuminate the dark room. While Y/n sat on her bed using her laptop to talk to Sully, Nate was looking through old letters from his brother. The girl didn't understand Nathan's fixation with treasure, let alone these random letters that he always managed to carry around with him.

When she accepted the job, she was only thinking about her future, since she wanted to be a great historian and finish her anthropological research. As soon as she met the rest of the team, which she didn't know would have more people, Y/n just focused on getting her share and leaving. However, I couldn't lie when I thought that there was an empathy between the two. Nathan was never his favorite, much less Chloe, but even though he had a childish and silly instinct, he knew how to always protect the team and do what was right.

“Did you find anything?” Nate's voice broke into Y/n's thoughts, taking her eyes off the computer and staring at the man wearing a white bathrobe who stood in front of the foot of the bed.

“I thought so.” Y/n looked away again, realizing that it was already past midnight. I think I'll go to sleep. Feel free to look at my laptop”. The girl in the bathrobe hands the device to Nate, who only replies with a smile that doesn't show his teeth.

"I've written down some coordinates, but I think I need to rest too. We have a long day tomorrow.” The brunette runs one of his hands through his hair, while the other leaves the laptop on a sofa at the foot of the bed. Can I have a pillow?” The man stretches out one of his hands, but Y/n tilts her head to one side.

“Is this because of the fight we had?” the girl asks, pulling the comforter of the double bed over herself.

“No. I just don't want it to seem like I'm forcing anything, and I know I'm not your favorite either, so...- The brunette looks away, staring at the walls of the beach-themed room with its light colors and sandy tones scattered throughout the rest of the room.

“I don't mind.” The woman said without making eye contact.

Her main point was that Nate didn't lie.

Chloe could be a manipulative bitch, but the fact that she wanted to manipulate Nate was what made the situation more unacceptable than it already was.

The candles in the room had already been extinguished, and now only the lights from the lamps were illuminating the room. In an instant, everything became a strange pitch, where there was no conversation and the sea was the only thing that improved the mood. The moon was part of the room that was no longer so dark, but their thoughts seemed to speak louder. With their backs to each other, it was still possible to hear their heavy breathing, showing that they weren't asleep yet. Y/n closed his eyes, but they opened immediately, as he couldn't sleep without saying something. Her pride felt like it was going to burst out of his chest, and it did.

-"Sorry about this afternoon. I just want to take my cut and go.” Y/n's voice reached her partner's ears, who looked over his shoulder, seeing that she was still on her back.

-“I understand, don't worry.” Nate says without thinking twice about his response, since this conversation has been programmed into his head since the shower.

"And about Chloe... I didn't feel she was a good person. I guess I just imagined that she was using you, and that's why I was a little wary of her. But I know you liked her. It's a shame she left and gave up.” The girl curls up between the covers, holding them tightly.

The answer was complete silence

And so, Y/n decided to close her eyes to rest, even though she didn't want to

“I like being with you. Hearing you curse me, or compliment me, whatever. I... I like your company, and how you like to pretend that you're always in control of everything, when visibly you're fucking freaking out screaming in the bathroom, as if we couldn't hear your frustration every time something goes wrong”.

Y/n's eyes flew open, and the lamp was quickly turned on.

“What?”

“You're not easy to deal with, Y/n. Let's agree on that fact, but I can't deny that you make me fall more and more every time you boss me around.” Nate confessed, fixing his chocolate eyes on the woman, and sitting back against the pair of white pillows behind him.

“Did you drink poisoned wine?” Y/n asked, still not understanding why he was saying that.

“Is that a reciprocal yes or no?” Nathan turns on the lamp on his side of the bed, exposing his marked and tanned abdomen.

More silence

And more silence

“For someone who's a loudmouth in fights, you know how to keep quiet when you need to, don't you?” Nate says jokingly, and receiving silence in response, he just turns over to lie down again.

Y/n's light hands find one of Nathan's exposed muscles, making him finally look at her. In one hot moment, Y/n's lap meets her partner's, and their tongues dance without having time to waste on each other. Y/n's robe slowly slips off her shoulder, exposing more and more of her body. Like a silent request, the kiss stops between panting breaths.

“Did we really kiss yesterday?” the girl asks, receiving a nod.

Nate's hands find a piece of her hair that falls into her eyes, tucking it behind her ear carefully. His strong voice is drawn to her ear, causing a shiver as he speaks:

“Don't worry about the silence, princess. Your screams will fill the room.”

#tom holland #tom holland x fem #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker smut #tom holland oneshot #peter parker x reader #peter parker oneshot #nathan drake oneshot #nathan drake x reader #nathan drake smut

65 notes · View notes

doomspaniels · 2 months ago

Text

Tristan negotiated with the twin pillows in the hotel room for a while, but seemed discontented. Tristan's Fetch and Tug Buddy ran back home to check on the Big Doggies (we all came through the storm fine, but horses could not join us at the hotel). And while there, he collected my large pillows so that Tristan can have enough room for Skull Snuggles.

#tristan #cocker spaniel #dogblr #hurricane helene #skull snuggles #he melted

46 notes · View notes

ghoul-slime · 6 months ago

Text

Mushy May Day 3 & 4 - Massage & Wound Tending/First Aid (Aether/Dew)

Ended up combining days 3 and 4 into one fic. Based loosely on that time Dew (presumably) injured his arm during the Prequelle era. As always, thank you @forlorn-crows for organizing this and to @ghuleh-recs for the dividers!

Day 3 & 4 - Massage & Wound Tending/First Aid (Aether/Dew), cw for Dew's shoulder injury. Hurt/comfort, fluff, 1518 words

Aether notices it right away. The way Dew seems to be favoring one arm. The way he furrows his brow and rolls his shoulder seemingly every five minutes. How he makes soft little grunts and sighs of discontent at night when he’s trying to settle into his bunk above Aether’s on the bus.

When he broaches the subject, Dew denies anything is wrong. His shoulder is just a little sore is all. Maybe he slept funny, he says, brushing off Aether’s concerns.

But Aether knows the truth, and is pretty sure the whole pack knows what’s up actually. It’s Dew’s new guitar. The Fantomen. For as beautiful as it looks and as powerful as it sounds, the son of a bitch is heavy. Even for Aether it can be unwieldy at times.

Of course Dew hasn’t let it affect his playing. He never would. He’s far too proud, and rightfully so. Dew’s the best player Aether has ever seen anywhere in his life. And his playing continues to be immaculate, so Aether doesn’t want to push. Instead he watches Dew power through their set each night for weeks.

Until Dew’s shoulder gives out completely in the middle of a ritual.

A missed note, glaringly obvious. Rare to be due to Dew’s mistake and not because of some equipment malfunction (or Aether’s own mistake throwing Dew off, something he can admit has happened more than once). Aether whips his head towards the fire ghoul, knowing immediately that something is seriously wrong. Copia and the other ghouls are watching him now too.

Dew curls in on himself for just a split second before catching himself and resuming his perfect playing. But Aether knows the damage has been done when Dew purposefully ignores the rest of his stage cues and instead shuffles unsteadily towards the back of the stage as he finishes out the song.

Thank Satan they’re at an intermission. Time for Copia to change out of his white suit and into the red cassock. Instead of taking his usual water break, Aether books it towards Dew, who he finds leaning against the wall just past the curtain.

Aether knows it's bad because Dew has his mask off. His face is pale and he’s sweating bullets, cradling his arm against his body as he struggles to even out his breathing. But before he can do anything there’s chaos. Copia and the crew are scrambling to do what they can to keep the show going. Aether is being ushered back to stage before he can get a word in.

In the end Dew insists he can finish out the show from backstage, perched on a stool where he can rest the weight of the Fantomen on his lap. He even comes back onstage for final bows, cradling his bad arm gingerly, and Aether finds himself trailing behind him protectively instead of his usual routine of throwing out guitar picks and interacting with the audience.

Finally, the curtain goes down and they’re free to go. Thankfully it’s a hotel night and then they’re off for two days before they travel to the next city. A small victory.

As soon as they’re in the room, Aether is looking Dew over while Copia watches on worriedly. Dew keeps grumbling that ghouls heal fast, so he’ll be fine, but Aether can see otherwise. The shoulder is swollen, angry red and inflamed. Dew’s definitely pulled something, maybe even a tear, and then he continued to irritate it night after night until it gave out. Aether feels guilty that he didn’t notice it was this bad before, that he wasn’t more insistent. He could have used some of his quintessence to keep it from going this far… He shakes the thought away for the time being.

“Alright,” Aether sighs and turns to Copia. “The bad news is, as of right now his shoulder’s fucked,” he says point blank. No point in sugar-coating any of this now. Copia pales and he hears Dew swallow nervously and shift from where he’s sitting on the bed behind him.

“Good news is, I can fix him up in the next two days.” He turns to Dew to see a wave of relief wash across his otherwise stoic face. “But he’s gonna have to take it easy for a while after that. And that much healing takes a lot of quintessence, a ton of energy. If we push it any farther than that, you’re gonna end up out two guitarists.”

Copia agrees and they make arrangements for Aether and Dew to stay in his suite while Copia takes one of the regular rooms. The cardinal bids them goodnight and lets them know he’ll get them anything they need to be comfortable for the next few days while Aether works on Dew’s arm.

As soon as he leaves, Aether turns to Dew. He wants more than anything to scoop the little ghoul up in his arms and shower him in kisses, but he knows better than to jostle his bad arm. At any rate, Dew hates to be fussed over.

“How do you feel?” Aether chances, popping the cap of his water bottle and handing it to Dew along with a couple painkillers.

Dew snorts, avoiding Aether’s eyes. “Like absolute dogshit,” he answers, blunt as always, before swallowing the pills and chugging half of Aether’s water.

“Alright then,” he motions to the compression shirt Dew still has on. “Let’s get this thing off of you so I can work on getting some of the swelling down.”

It isn’t easy, but they work together to hold Dew’s tender shoulder steady while Aether slowly peels the fabric from Dew’s body. Dew winces as he finally pulls his arm out of the sleeve, and Aether presses an apologetic little kiss to Dew’s temple.

The kiss seems to break some of the tension, and Dew’s body sags. He looks up at Aether with a sad little frown on his face. He looks guilty. “Sorry, Aeth…” he starts. “I know I should have said something before it got this bad…” he trails off.”

Aether shakes his head, tells Dew not to worry, that he’ll have him fixed up in no time. Jokes that thanks to his bum shoulder, they get to lounge around in Copia’s suite for two days in a king sized bed and in the jacuzzi tub. Says that if they play their cards right, Copia will probably even let them call for room service to their hearts’ content. The mention of room service seems to lighten Dew’s mood even further.

Meanwhile, Aether works Dew’s shoulder, pressing feather light touches to sensitive flesh while he focuses his energy on delivering enough quintessence to calm the inflammation. Once he’s satisfied with their progress, Aether pulls away to go draw a hot bath. Before he can go Dew reaches out, grabs his hand and pulls Aether back to him.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” Dew says softly, looking up at Aether. He holds Dew’s gaze, contemplating, before leaning in and kissing him on the lips, carding his fingers through Dew’s hair until they’re both humming contentedly against each other.

Later, Aether sits beside the tub while Dew soaks, periodically working another round of quintessence into Dew’s shoulder as the little ghoul dozes off, finally beginning to relax as the pain goes down thanks to Aether’s ministrations.

Aether helps Dew out of the tub and wraps him in a fluffy bathrobe from the closet. Between the quintessence, the painkillers, and the hot bath, Dew is ready to crash. Aether guides him on wobbly legs to the bed, helping him lay face down into the pillows. From his prone position, Dew wriggles his shoulder.

“Feels better now,” Dew slurs, eyelids fluttering closed. “Can move it now n’everything.” He moves his shoulder in another little circle to demonstrate.

Aether chuckles. He loves to see Dew like this, blissed out and sleepy, he just wishes it were under different circumstances. Aether feels exhaustion pulling on him as well, between the crash of adrenaline after Dew’s injury and the copious amounts of quintessence he pumped into the little fire ghoul, his body is feeling beat. He’ll need rest soon, too.

But first, he climbs onto the bed and straddles Dew’s hips, careful not to press down too hard or to knock into his arm.

“Backrub?” Dew asks, eyes still closed and face pressed into the pillows.

“Backrub,” Aether confirms, leaning in to run his palms up Dew’s back, letting another dose of quintessence bleed from his fingertips into the fire ghoul’s soft skin, paying special attention to his injured shoulder. He massages Dew’s back until the little ghoul is half asleep and purring into the sheets.

Two days later, and they’re back on the road, en route to the next venue, Dew feeling better and set to shred once again, under the caveat that he doesn’t overdo it just yet. Aether has appointed himself Dew’s own personal masseuse. Now, after every ritual, Dew gets a nice, long, quintessence-infused shoulder rub.

Dew is happy to let Aether fuss over him, just this once.

#mushy may 2024 #dewther #aether/dew #aether/dewdrop #aether x dew #aether x dewdrop #aether ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #ghost band fanfic #ghoul-slime fic #ghoul-slime mushy may 2024 #ok but in that video where dew is injured and he comes back during bows #and aether immediately rushes over to him and puts his arm around him #my heartttt

118 notes · View notes

spicyclover · 1 year ago

Text

Fireflies

Summary: After having a horrible beginning of the year, you slowly recover from your trauma and his. You soon realize that Lance will always be by your side.

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section!

I’m open to requests.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

WARNING: Mention of miscarriage, blood and injury. BE AWARE

Some characters are invented. I don’t know exactly the name of every team member of each driver. Please be respectful, and you can correct me in the comments. I’ll make the adjustment if I get something wrong.

Dialogues from: Cha Cha Real Smooth

When Lance had his bike accident. She miscarried and didn’t tell him because She didn’t want him to worry about her. Weeks passed, and he slowly recovered from his injuries. Now that this dark time has passed, she feels it’s time to tell him.

She is working in the hotel room when she gets the call from Lance’s coach. He quickly informed her of the situation, and she jumped into the first taxi to the hospital where he had just been admitted. He didn’t directly describe the damage the accident caused, but she felt in his voice that it was severe. The stress has escalated, and she imagines the worst possible scenarios.

She rushed to the emergency room, quickly spotting Lance’s team in the corner of the waiting room.

“What happened?” She asks quickly. His coach once she gets close to them.

“I... I don't. I don't know. Everything happened so fast.”

“How bad is it?” She questions nervously.

“Very...”

They’ve been waiting for hours, and no one wants to give them any information until his father arrives. She tried to get information, but apparently, being his girlfriend is not close enough to him to be able to receive any information. The nurses are reluctant to tell her anything; she only knows he’s with the doctors to save his hands and feet.

She returns and sits with Lance’s coach, Rob, for the fifth time. She let a giant sigh escape and crossed her arms with discontent. She has had a stomach ache since early morning, and she’s getting increasingly irritable with the hours that pass.

She’s trying to camouflage her discomfort, but she’s starting to feel cramps twisting her in half. She apologizes to the team and heads to the nearest washroom. She feels blood running down her thighs. "Oh no." She hurries and opens the first cabin available.

She lifts her dress, which is now stained with blood and looks. Tears invade her when she sits on the toilet bowl, waiting for her to finish bleeding out. "Why it’s happening to us."

A few weeks ago, she noticed that she hadn’t had her period for several weeks, but she didn’t tell Lance because she didn’t want to worry him about anything. So she said nothing and lived in denial over the holidays and Lance’s vacation. They went to the mountains, and that’s when she realized the changes that began to happen. They went back to Canada and finally decided to consult.

So the doctor told her a week before Lance’s accident that she was 13 weeks pregnant.

“Congratulation Miss Strulovitch. Thirteen weeks pregnant. We can schedule your first ultrasound for the end of the weekend.”

“I...”

“I know this is quite a shock, especially since you didn’t know about it. You can take your time to think about it and talk to your partner.

“Umm...”

“You can call our office anytime.”

She left the office not knowing what to do or think. She didn’t want to talk to Lance immediately until she thought about it and knew what to think. They went to Spain on the weekend and had her ultrasound picture in her bag, waiting for the right moment to tell Lance.

“When... Is there a date of conception? She asked them on the phone some hours later to the doctor.

“Well, if my calculation is correct, it will probably be around the end of November.”

“End of November, she whispers back.

She remembered right away the night it happened. She had been sick for a few days and forgot to take her pill, but she didn't think much about it when she was in Abu Dhabi with Lance. Lance and she have been together for quite a long time and have done it multiple times without protection. So she didn’t think much about it, and it was Lance.

She cries, trying to find a solution. A way for her to go back to the hotel and change. But she’s bleeding out, and bleeding out her baby. She can’t believe it. She didn’t even have time to tell him. She didn’t have time. Why didn’t she have time?

She finally calmed down a bit to be able to text Rob, Lance’s coach.

“Hi, women’s bathroom. Hum, I’m looking for someone. Is anybody in here? Is anybody’s name Y/n in here? Start with a Y?” Asks Bob entering the bathroom.

“Bob,” She whimpers in pain.

“Yeah. Y/n.”

“Is Lance okay? Have you seen him?”

“Yes. Yeah, he’s, and he’s keeping it up. Are you okay?”

“Um, I’m kind of stuck in here.”

“What do you mean?” Do you need toilet paper?”

“I’m. I just. I got some blood on my dress, and it’s not. I’m fine. It’s not a cut. Um...”

“Oh, word, okay.”

“Um, but I need. Can you get me some paper towels?”

“Yes”

“Like ten?”

“Yeah”

“And can you wet some?”

“Uh?”

“Will you wet some of them?”

“Yes!” He approaches the door. “Okay. Can you reach that?”

“Fuck”

“What?”

“I can’t reach that. I just got more blood on my drip on my dress.”

“I can go a little further.”

“I can’t. I. Just throw them.”

“I can, but I feel like it’s gonna fall on the floor, and it’s gonna be, like, not sanitary for you.”

“Go under, then, go.”

The door opens. He gives you the toilet paper.

“Close the door.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah...”

“Do you want me to see if someone has a tampon or something?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Lance, I need you to help me get to my car. Because I don’t want people to think I’ve killed somebody in the bathroom.”

“Yeah, it does look like that. Do you, um, that’s a period. Do you want my... Do you want to wear my coat? I have a coat.”

“I don’t think your coat will cover my ass.”

“I feel like it is. I’m pretty tall.”

“I don’t want people to see me wearing some guy’s jacket.”

“Okay, I think I have an idea.”

She spends several minutes in there while Rob goes looking for his coat. She whimpers in pain, trying to breathe through the contraction. Tears flow down her cheeks, and she feels something leave her body.

She went back to the hotel room. Looking like a maniac trying to keep her mind busy. She’s shaking but tries to cover it. She mumbles to herself. She nervously eats her nails, and she passes multiple times at the same place. Her mind wanders away. She needs a shower. She needs a shower right now.

It is only when the shower starts running that her minds finally silence itself. Taking a part of hers in the drains. She watches the blood flowing away. The warm water makes her feel a bit better, but she can’t help to cry again. She stays under the water for ages. Letting the water flow her emotions away. She needs to be strong. She needs to let go of the pain. She needs to be strong for him. “He didn’t have to know. He didn’t have to know.” She mumbles again to herself.

She wears sweatpants with an oversized hoodie and returns to the hospital. Her hair is still wet, and she didn’t even bother to put makeup on. The surgery is over, and she can finally see Lance again. Seeing him, in his hospital bed, with his casts on moves her. She keeps your tear to herself and goes to kiss him. Acting as normal as possible. Even though inside of her, she just went to let her pain out. Let it out to the world and be normal again.

The week passed, and his recovery went rapidly, and the possibility of him getting back in the car was more and more present now. She gets nightmares every night, and each worsens, keeping her awake. Sometimes, she sees Lance getting hurt in the car, in the street. Sometimes it’s her being persecuted by Lance, her family, and his family for how an awful mother she is, for losing this child. So, she lays awake in bed every night, waiting till the morning comes.

It’s the first of the year. Overwhelmed and tired. She enters the paddock with him. Her glasses are up to her nose, and her head is down.

It’s FP1, and she’s decided to stay in Lance’s driver's room to try and get some rest. She rested her head on her fist as her tired eye slowly started to close. Her lips slightly parted, and she drifted away. Forgetting all the sound and the agitation around her.

A dream begins to appear in her mind. Images and sounds start to occur more for her as she finds herself on track, in the middle of it. Her eyes wander around her. All the lights on the track are on, but no spectators, no sounds, and no vibration.

Then the sound of a Formula One car begins to reach her far away, like a storm. The atmosphere becomes heavy and humid. She is unable to move or step forward. Just her eyes move from left to right. She feels her heart palpitating, her breathing pressing, and her body hair bristling.

She feels that her body is reacting violently to what is happening. As if a great danger is going to happen and she can do nothing to stop it. She’s watching her own misery.

Then, in the distance, she sees the car heading straight toward her. The ground begins to vibrate under the pressure of the coming storm. The wind blows violently, and her breath is cut off.

She blinks, ready to scream with all her lungs, when suddenly she feels a hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her.

Her eyelids suddenly open, and she desperately seeks her breath. She crosses the worried look of Lance, who still holds her shoulder.

He’s still in his suit. Light sweat on his forehead. His fireproof clothes are soaked with sweat, and his suit is tied around his waist.

“Are you okay?” He questions, visibly concerned.

“What time is it?” She asks, still confused by her dream.

“Haft past seven, I think.” She looks at him confused but sits up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just tired...” She mumbles, rubbing her eyes.

Lance didn’t believe a word she said. He knows this lack of sleep has been going on for a while now, even though he didn’t say anything initially, thinking that all this stress comes from his accident. He wanted to prove to her that everything was going well for him by going up to the Grand Prix and into that car, but he sees that it is no longer that that bothers her, but something else.

“Your eyes are red. Did you get enough sleep last night?” She sighs. She doesn’t want him to be distracted. Not right now, not now. She wants to tell him so badly. All this sadness and pain she feels, but she has to wait.

“I had a bad dream.” She says, looking up at him. “I’ve been having the same dream over and over for the last few weeks, and it’s keeping me awake, and I can’t sleep.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? You should have woken me.” His voice calmed the storm inside her mind, making her focus on what was really important.

“I wanted to, but every time I turned around in the bed, you’re here with your cast and blaster, and you finally look peaceful, relaxed, and rested. I just couldn’t do it.”

Lance let it go, but that night. He lay awake next to her. He waited until she closed her eyes to finally closes his. The next day flies by, and the excellent result comes in. She didn’t sleep much, but at least Lance took her in his arms all night, making her feel safe again.

It’s already Sunday, and the race went amazingly. Lance got P6 despite the pain and everything. She’s full of joy and sadness at the same time. Watching him being happy again makes her heart full, but at the same time, she can’t stop thinking. Thinking about what could have been. What will it be? She can’t hold it back and start crying when they return to his driver’s room.

“Hey. Hey, baby. What’s going on?” He asks, taking her into his arm. “It’s all right, I’m all right.”

“No...”

“What is it?

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you crying? Has something happened?”

“I lost it.”

“What?”

“I lost our baby.”

“What are you talking about.” Lance wanders, worried. “Breathe, baby.”

“I’ve lost our baby.” She whispers, finally calming down. She breathes before continuing. “I found out I was pregnant a week before your accident, and I wanted to be sure before telling you anything, but...”

“But I crash my bike.”

“I don’t know why, but I did a miscarriage when you were admitted to the hospital.”

“You went through this alone?” He asks, surprised it’s been this long.

“I didn’t want to put more on your plate, I...” She started to cry again, not wanting him to be mad at her. Lance feels bad and pulls her close to him.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad; I just wish you had told me sooner. I want to be there for you as you are for me.” he says, kissing your temple. “That’s why you are not okay for the past weeks?” She nods, her head resting on his chest. “We should see the doctor to see if everything is okay.”

She nods again to his suggestion and stays like this for several minutes. Listening to his heartbeat. They never discuss the possibility of having a baby, but Lance never shows he is against the idea of having children. He wants kids, but he never thoughts it would be this young, this soon.

He does not know how to feel after this revelation and must admit that he is disturbed by what could have been. A small them. A mix between her and him. He sighs and squeezes her harder.

“Will try again,” he spoke softy. “And this time, we will be ready.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, looking him in the eyes.

They went out for dinner that night. Just the two of them, alone. In their little comfort bubble, away from socials, friends or family. It’s only a few days after the Grand Prix that Lance took the time to make a post on his social. Looking back on his journey through recovery. On international women’s Day, he dedicated a beautiful message to her. Posting their first couple picture together on his Instagram.

In the garden, she looks peacefully away. The doctor says they will have no problem being pregnant again. He even proposed to put her to be on the pill. She thoughts about it and turned to Lance before saying she won't need it. Lets the faith decide what comes.

Later in the evening, she’s looking at the field of the lantern lighting up the sky. There is a special event in north London, and she begs Lance to go. Their wish lantern goes away with the ultrasound of their unborn baby on it. Saying a last proper goodbye. They watch it together, flying out. Flying away to heaven. Her head was on his shoulder.

“I'm glad you're feeling better.” He whispered in her ear. She smiles, delighted to have found peace and acceptance. To accept the loss. To accept the misfortune. To accept destiny.

When they went back to Monaco weeks later. She had never been more in love with him.

She's in his arms. On a boat. Looking at the sunset while listening to his multiple stories. She loves hearing him talking. She kisses his cheeks while he looks around the mountains and the ocean around them. His arms are around her body, keeping her close to his chest. Feeling her light skin warm by the sun. He finally settles in, contemplating her. She smiles. A real smile. Fill with love and admiration. He pulls her hair out, telling her how much he loves her. Scooping her face in his hand and giving her a kiss. Pulling her into a warm hug.

“My little fireflies.”

#lance stroll #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll fluff #lance stroll x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fluff

241 notes · View notes

fraugwinska · 1 month ago

Text

Chapter 21 - Breakthrough

Breakthrough (noun) 1. [general] A sudden, dramatic, and important discovery or development

Tags & Warnings: none

"... and Aunt Susan had to swat him with our broom to get him to leave me alone, can you believe it? Some guys won't take a 'No' as an answer, but who'd want to marry a boring dud like Gustav? Much less when there are much more handsome and dapper gentlemen out there?"

Alastor blinked – one eye after the other - smiling politely, but as he listened to the babbling of that gossiping windbag Gladys, he felt more and more annoyed. There weren't many creatures in hell that he would endure the auditive torture of getting his ears chewed off while the wretch basically undressed him with her dead, black eyes for - but Rosie was one of them, and Alastor knew he had monopolized Gem for the last weeks, so a few minutes alone with her was the least he could grant his oldest companion. Still, he knew this was also Rosie’s form of punishment - and what a punishment it was. The women of cannibal town were always persistent enough whenever he came around, but Gladys... well, she took his rumored desirability as a bachelor to a whole new level. Whenever Alastor set foot into Cannibal Town, Gladys would rush out in search for him, like a damn bloodhound. Luckily for him, his shadows provided the means for quick escapes and avoiding any unnecessary encounters, and usually Rosie too would hold her at bay.

But now, he needed his full concentration and discipline to appear nonchalant, only letting out short, appropriate sounds as the scarecrow of a lady continued to chatter, eyeing him down and making suggestive remarks with an obvious wink.

Satan, that woman was really trying too hard.

He knew a good hour must have passed, surely this had to suffice, and he gave a quick cough to interrupt Gladys mid-babbling. "Ah, would you look at the time! Apologies, but I have to retrieve my assistant and return to my hotel."

Gladys wrinkled her nose in discontent. "But Alastor - we barely even talked for... " her boney hands pulled out a pocket watch from her childishly ruffled skirt pocket, "... ten minutes.

Only ten minutes? Huh. Well, that had to do. Alastor wouldn't stay a minute longer in the vicinity of this vulture, even if he'd risk Rosie's annoyance. It would be a cheap price to pay, given the alternative. "Oh, nonsense dear - when in your company, mere minutes can feel like eternity! Ha-ha, but I mustn't hold you off from looking for that catch of a man any longer. Wish that fella good luck from me if you find him!" And, as he turned and hurried to Rosie’s backrooms as quick as decorum allowed, ignoring her angry protests, he murmured to himself "The poor bastard is gonna need it."

As he swept the curtain back and stepped back into the warmth of the parlor, he scanned the room. Empty. Hm. He felt his ears itching, a sign that his patience was running dangerously thin.

"Rosie, my dear? Kitten? Where in the seven circles are you now?"

No answer came, but his erect ears caught something faint - almost like a breeze. Then he heard your voice. Or several? And... was that Rosie? He stepped closer, slowly as his curiosity awoke, towards the only other door leading out of her parlor, the one leading upstairs into Rosie’s private apartment. As he got nearer, he could hear it clearly now. Rosie speaking - encouraging, softly, gentle even... he reached for the doorknob as he felt a shift, a burst of sudden, powerful magick and energy and he smelled, felt and tasted the signature essence of her. Gem. His gem.

Losing any dignity he had, he almost ripped the door from its hinges, storming in and staring wide eyed at the spectacle happening before him. A smile stretched across his face, wide, sharp teeth showing and his pupils taking over his whole eyes, a wave of awe and adoration rippled through his being.

Gem had produced another copy. A yellow one, shining and sparkling like gold coated in iridescent powder. They were staring at each other, her eyes, shifting through the color wheel, fixated on her counterpart, who beamed back at her. He felt the pull again, the need to touch it, feel it, devour it - but as he took a step, Rosie shook her head, holding up a hand and spoke in a calm, but warning tone "Alastor. Wait. Let her try something. Please."

He took a deep, snarling breath, fighting the urge to ignore her. But he halted. Waited.

The room was quiet for a moment, still in a way that almost seemed like the whole of hell held its breath. Then, both of them looked at him. The alive eyes of his darling kitten, and the glittering ones of the copy. The latter started to move, so different than her rosy counterpart did. While the one Alastor had met moved like a snake, slow and seductively, teasing and flowing like a silken scarf caught in a gush of wind - This one moved like a ray of sunshine in a mirror - flittering, quickly and light-footed, almost as if it was bouncing off light itself. Three heads followed her movement, Rosie's face full of enchantment, Gem's full of concentrated tension. And his? What did he look like, he wondered, watching the alter ego coming towards him? The energy moving closer made him unable to think about anything but sheer, possessive delight. And pride. Gem was his, and this version of her was part of her, so he had to possess it too.

The golden copy took a last step towards him, her smile as bright as hells sun. She opened her mouth, and the short hairs on the back of his head stood when he heard her voice - like an echo of the familiar, soft voice of her, getting lost in a crystalline grotto, reflected through stone and water, but clearly audible:

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻. 𝓖𝓮𝓶 𝓼𝓪𝓲𝓭 𝔀𝓮 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓭𝓾𝓬𝓮 𝓾𝓼, 𝓼𝓸 𝓘 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓽: 𝓘 𝓪𝓶 𝓒𝓲𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓮.

He couldn't take the suspense a second longer. His control slipped and his shadows leapt out to take her and bring her to him, into his grasp, not caring for Rosie's warning anymore as his main focus was on this beauty that his Gem had created, and the need to have it consuming him. But as his black appendages so much as touched her, she shattered into shards of gold, and broke into shimmering dust as he heard a laugh like a faint bell that quickly faded into thin air. Alastor cursed silently, the anticipation and eagerness he had felt turning into bittersweet disappointment, and the crackle of energy in the air turning into nothingness. Sabotaged by his own greediness.

He sighed, turning to the tutting sound of Rosie, but instead of the reproachful gaze and frown he expected, she looked smug and quite pleased with herself.

His gem however looked shaken, wide eyed, as if she was unsure if she was allowed to feel accomplished or not and searching his eyes for guidance. That she still was ever so submissive and molding to his whims as the day he met her made his stirring mind calm and his chest tight. "Well, would you look at that. You finally did it, darling." He commented, still holding his smile as steady as he could, his head tilted in amazement as those few words seemed to wash away all the insecurities that had been written all over her face.

"I-I did it." She said, voice small, and he could see the hint of a flush on her cheeks and neck, the sight causing his grin to widen as Rosie pinched her cheeks. "Yes you did, and how marvelous it was, dove! That darling Citrine is lovely, and the others will sure follow suit. Oh! Meeting them will be so exciting!"

Alastor only understood half of what was said. The ghosting jolts of energy still sparked around him as Rosie and his kitten had to fill the unnerving gaps of information about what had happened to get to this point. It irked him that he hadn't been here to see it all unfold, curse that hag Gladys for keeping him away and Rosie for sending him to her in the first place. The snarl growing was instantly erased when her vivid eyes found his, flashing in golds and pinks.

Forget the momentary disappointment, he reminded himself - this was a welcome, exciting development. The copies of her had some sort of sentience - not much unlike his own magick, which filled him with a smug sense of satisfaction. He should've been at least miffed about Rosie interfering in her training and taking a lead, but he couldn't bring himself to be. After all, maybe Gem needed a more gentle and... less possessive approach to foster what Alastor had intended to teach her. And if she could do it once, she could do it again, that he was sure of. The seed had been planted – and despite this little mishap, Alastor would make sure that no one else but HIM would be the one to nurse it to bloom.

Alastor bridged the short distance to the seating area, patting his lovely lynx's head in passing before he decidedly sat down in the one-seater and crossed his legs, leaning back with an expectant look and folded hands.

"So, now that praise has been sufficiently distributed: Would either of you lovely ladies be so kind to bring me up to speed?"

You felt weird. Good or bad weird, you weren't totally decided on.

Seeing your mother again, so vividly you even felt her gentle hands around you as you remembered the last real hug you got from her before you abandoned her and left for the Academy had sparked something in you. Something so powerful you felt like you split in half. And you had, in a way. It wasn't like the last times when those strange you-s appeared. You almost felt as if she was asking you for permission to show herself, vibrating inside you with the want to come out, and you had allowed her. Remained conscious while you had stared at the dark, yellow thing piecing itself together before you.

"I'm so happy to finally meet you. We all are." she had said in your voice. Different, slightly, but so remarkably you still.

"We?" You heard Rosie whisper next to you, but you didn't care to turn and look at her. All your attention was on her.

She chuckled, and held out her hand for you.

"The rest of us. You. I'm only one of many. You can call me Citrine."

Your arm lifted, slowly, as if not under your own control. It felt so surreal, her fingers brushing over yours. She was solid. Real. Not a dream.

"You're beautiful." Words just fell out of your mouth, and her clinking laughter rang through the air.

"Yes, you are." Citrine smiled at you. "Just as mom said - we learned to shine, right?"

It felt so right, and yet, not at all, to hear her talk to you, with your voice, your expressions. Talking about mom. It hurt. And yet, it didn't. It was confusing, but the way she felt so much like a part of you, so connected, it felt... good.

"What..." Your voice was a dry rasp as licked your lips in a nervous attempt to find the right words. "What is happening?"

"You are the one calling the shots, love." Rosie answered. She too was fixated on the shimmering figure, who turned her head to Rosie, a smile on her face. "She's right. You're our conductor, Gem. We are a reflection of you, parts at least."

As if in agreement, the voices in your head hummed in an overstimulating symphony, making your head fuzzy with noise.

‘A reflection.’ Your voice that wasn’t you echoed.

‘We are you.’

‘You are us.’

‘Parts of you.’

‘Light and Darkness...’

You opened your mouth to say something, but there was a bang and a voice that was as familiar as your own. You turned and saw him, and the way the shadows swirled around him, his red eyes fixated on the glittering being you had conjured up. Alastor looked...

‘Hungry.’ A voice whispered, and the others giggled.

‘Desperate.’

‘Fascinated.’

‘Dangerous.’

‘Perfect."

You blinked as Rosie said something you didn't really registered. Citrine was still staring at you, waiting. Waiting for you to tell her what to do. You could feel it, the energy flowing between the two of you, connecting you like a bridge. You wondered...

You concentrated, detaching your thoughts from the still chattering choir inside to visualize your own, stronger and clear through the noise. 'You... can you... go over to him? Talk to him?'

Citrine grins happily at you, almost glowing. 'Of course, I'd love to! What you want me to say?' you heard her answer in your mind, clear as day over the hum of the others.

You thought for a moment. 'Just... tell him who you are?'

Citrine nodded.

Then she was gone. She moved like sunshine, like light dancing on a water surface, and before you knew it, she had skipped over to Alastor. She said something, and you saw his shadows burst out to reach for her and she vanished into a golden sparkle, like dust particles in the sun. It all happened so fast, the moment so overwhelming that you felt like you could've missed it if you blinked.

Alastor was staring at the space where Citrine had been and it made your heart drop that he looked almost offended. Was he mad? Displeased that you did what he intended for you to do without his presence? Did he feel like you disobeyed him? Or worse... that you disappointed him?

"Well, would you look at that. You finally did it, darling."

His words extinguished the flames licking at your insides, and you felt relief and exhilaration rushing through you.

"I-I did it." You stuttered. He was proud, not angry. You hadn't disappointed him.

"Yes, and how marvelous it was, dove! That darling Citrine is lovely, and the others will sure follow suit. Oh! Meeting them will be so exciting!" Rosie clasped her hands together in glee, the corners of her eyes wrinkling and her lips forming an excited, wide grin. You were happy to see her so enthusiastic, but Alastor interrupted the moment with a loud clearing of his throat.

"So, now that praise has been sufficiently distributed: would either of you lovely ladies be so kind to bring me up to speed?"

You sat down, glad that Rosie did all the talking. You were still a bit out of it, trying to process everything that just happened, and it didn't help that the voices in your head were still talking wildly and in such a fast succession that it was hard to pick up a full sentence.

"So... that's about the gist of it. I thought I could help her tap into her powers, since, well..." Rosie gestured between you both, barely hiding the knowing smile tugging at her lips "... your approach might've been too... charged?"

You felt your cheeks flushing slightly at the obvious indication, but Alastor looked unperturbed, save a barely visible tic of his eye.

"Very helpful indeed." he stated, and the cannibal overlord giggled behind her hand as he rolled his eyes and adjusted his monocle in defiance of having to outright thank her.

Rosie hummed and brushed her shoulders against yours with a wink, a silent sign of 'Don't worry about him, we all know the truth.' and you felt yourself relax a bit.

"But I think it's about time we have to return to the hotel, dearest. We still have to report our plentiful successes to the princess, and we're already fashionably late." He pushed himself out of the arm chair, and you hurriedly sprang up at the flick of his wrist motioning you to follow him. Rosie huffed, half-annoyed and half-amused at the sudden rush her oldest friend seemed to be in, and lead you back down the staircase and through the still buzzing shop, throwing an unnerved and approaching Gladys a razor-sharp smile full of condescended pity as the three of you passed her and her friends. Rosie opened the shop doors, the bell over it chiming brightly while she bowed down to hug you goodbye.

"Alright, off you go. But visit more often, do you hear me, mister? That goes for you too, dove - don't leave me waiting to see you so long again, alright? You have my permission to nag his fluffy ears off if he holds you too... busy." Her eyes darted over at the broad man next to the two of you, twinkling with mischief while the tensed grin persisted on his face as he took your arm, leading the both of you to the sidewalk outside.

"What a threat, dear friend - I shall wear earmuffs in the future then." You almost laugh out loud, not expecting the joke, and the twitch of his hand on your arm and the softening lines around his eyes tell you he notices it. Relieved, you feel him relax a bit too, and he sounded more like his usual self when he added "Cross my heart, you'll see us both soon enough…"

Ozul slithered up your leg with a happy fizz while his shadows engulfed you, his sandy warmth making you shiver as Alastor wraps one arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. "…at the latest at the Blue Moon Ball. Toodle-oo!" He sing-songed and with a loud crack of thin air being forced to separate, the streets of Cannibal Town and Rosie’s bellowed laughter were left behind and the world went dark and directionless again, with him as your only anchor. Suddenly your ears popped from a sudden pressure shift and you were back in front of the Hazbin Hotel.

You staggered slightly as the dizzy wave of your travel wore off. "I don't know if I'll ever get used to that kind of extraordinary transportation.", you murmured, letting your fingers run over Ozul’s head in a silent thank you as the shade hummed and retreated from your feet once you stood steadily enough.

Alastor grinned, one of his hands running through the loosened strands of hair that had escaped your neatly tied ponytail throughout the day's progress. "It's an acquired form of mobility you'll surely get the hang of one day. If the successes of today are any indicators - you're very capable to master any kind of extraordinary." One of his claws ran down the side of your neck, the other was still holding you pressed against him as if he was reluctant to let go. His voice dropped low and became the unusual kind of smooth that had become so dangerously addicting to you, its deep vibrations sending goosebumps over your arms and the back of your neck. "But I think we should postpone this particular discussion for a later time - our friends are surely waiting and we shall not waste the opportunity to gloat about our accomplishments today."

Your face flushed at the obvious praise and you felt a slight flutter in your chest as he released you, the familiar hand on your lower back returning as he led you to the front doors and opened them for you with such soft eyes you thought they must’ve been an imagination.

The instant change of atmosphere felt tangible as soon as the two of you entered the lobby. While the lobby was abandoned and empty, you saw Angel, his back to you and with slumped shoulders at the bar, with a concerned looking Husk behind it. The cat demon had a rag thrown over his shoulder and a half-empty whiskey bottle and two tumblers in his paws, his brows furrowed as he talked to the spider-demon sitting at his counter.

"Listen, I'm sure yo' can talk to her, or him, or whatever the fuck, about this mess, okay?"

"No! I can't!!!”, Angel whined, “Husky, you know her by now - she'd… she’d want to help, and I can't - I can't let her get involved with..."

"Talk to who about what?" you asked into the hall, ignoring the wave of annoyed static next to you. Husk looked up to see the both of you and sighed, putting the rag down on the counter, while Angel seemed to fold into himself even more, turning away from you even more as you hurried to his side.

"Ah, it's nothing, Rocks. Jus'... work-stuff has been rough today. I better get to bed, it's..."

You grabbed his shoulder as he tried to stand up and get away, and your eyes widened, burning with anger when you saw blue and purple bruises scattered around his neck like inky paint. With nimble fingers, your free hand came up to hover over the marks - hand marks.

"Angel, who did that? What.... what happened?"

"It's nothing!", he insisted, still avoiding to look into your eyes, but in twisting his body to wiggle out of your grasp he revealed his face just enough for you to spot a blooming black eye.

"Nothing?! Angel, that doesn't look like nothing at all! What's going on?"

Husk looked at him, and then at you. His frown grew deeper, and his paw clenched tighter around the whiskey bottle as Alastor joined the bar silently.

"If you don't tell her, I will." Husk said, his voice low and even despite the furious look Angel shot him.

"Keep ya' nose outta my business, whiskers. I said it's nothing. I just - fuck, I jus' wanna drop out of that stupid show. I got too much work stuff goin' on, Rocks. I - I'll explain later, I have to go. We'll talk later."

With a swift move the spider demon finally got free of your grasp, snatched the bottle of booze from the bar top and rushed out of the lobby.

"Explain what?! Angel! Angel, wait!" A hand on your shoulder kept you from running after him. You whipped around to see that it wasn't Alastor but Husk that held you back, his face resigned and tired.

"I wouldn't. That's one conversation he clearly isn't ready to have with yo' now, kid."

Your ears flattened, and the fur of your tail bristled with a mix of frustration and anxiety. The exhilaration of the day was gone, replaced by worry and confusion. Alastor took Angel's empty glass in hand, swirling the remaining brown liquid around as he sat down on the counter.

"Well, luckily you offered so generously to fill us in, Husker."

The cat demon huffed and returned to his place behind the bar, his gaze lingering on you, as he took the glass out of the radio demon's hand and replaced it with a fresh, filled one, before pouring himself a good amount and knocking it back.

"I'd rather just talk to her, but I guess the 'us' is necessary with this one... C’mon, sit down, doll, and let me fix yo’ a drink – yo’ gonna need it."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x reader #fraugwinskawrites #ao3 fanfic #method to madness #angel dust #hazbin husk #rosie hazbin hotel

30 notes · View notes

anyasathenaeum · 1 year ago

Note

omg I loved that jealous Wolfwood 😳 may I ask how he would act in the opposite situation? like, reader is usually kinda sassy and he thinks she's not into him, but when she sees him flirting with someone else she gets all pouty and irritable - and he notices.

Mine, And Only Mine

A/N: Anon, WHAT A GOOD IDEA. Here, have a fic about it!

Pairing: Nicholas D. Wolfwood x reader

"Does he have to be such an ass?" You hissed to yourself under your breath, glaring daggers as you watched Wolfwood flirting away with yet another random person at the saloon.

You knew Wolfwood wasn't doing anything to be an ass, at least, not more than usual - so why were you so upset?

"Jeez, (Y/N), if looks could kill, even Wolfwood would never be able to recover from the one you've been giving him for the past fifteen minutes," Meryl chuckled, causing heat to rise to your face and you to look away from where Wolfwood stood.

"No, it wouldn't," you ground out unconvincingly, to which Meryl just snorted in reply.

Within moments, you found yourself looking back at Wolfwood, feeling your heart sink just a bit lower and crack just a bit more as he let out a laugh at whatever the person he'd been flirting with had said.

"Why don't you just tell him how you feel?" Meryl suggested after watching you carefully for a few moments - she wasn't blind. She could see the heartbreak happening in your eyes.

To that, you simply laughed emptily, "And be heartbroken for sure when he rejects me with that stupid smirk on his face? Yeah, no. No, thanks, Meryl."

"Why do you think he'd reject you?" Meryl pressed, trying to find a way to make you realize that Wolfwood liked you much more than you thought he did.

You scoffed, "Look at him, Meryl! He's happily flirting away with everything that breathes directly in front of me. He knows I can see him, so he's doing it knowingly. That feels like enough to make me think he doesn't see me the way I see him."

You shoved yourself away from the table, a loud scraping sound ringing out as you stood up, your face becoming steely - a mask to hide the pain you were feeling.

"Sorry, Meryl, I'm gonna go to bed. I'll see you in the morning," You muttered over your shoulder before leaving the saloon altogether, not bothering to glance back at Wolfwood as you left. You figured the best thing you could do right now was go back to your hotel room, bury your face into your pillow, and scream until your throat was raw and your emotions could be contained again. Then, you could go back to your usual self.

However, what you hadn't noticed was a set of dark eyes watching you as you stood up and left the saloon. Wolfwood found himself frowning as you left - the expression on your face was one of discontent and hurt. While you wore a mask to hide your true feelings, you weren't that good. At least, not good enough to fool Wolfwood.

"What's up? You look kinda grumpy. That doesn't suit somebody as handsome as you!"

The person Wolfwood had been entertaining piped up, but Wolfwood's interest in them faded in the split second it took for you to leave the room.

"Yeah, yeah, thanks, it's been nice chattin' with ya," Wolfwood brushed the person off, turning on his heel and heading over to where Meryl was still sitting, leaving the person he had been talking to spluttering in confusion and outrage.

"What's up with (Y/N)?" Wolfwood asked, taking a seat next to Meryl, who just glared at him almost as hard as you had been glaring at him earlier, "Woah, what's with the look, little lady?"

"You're the biggest idiot I've ever met in my life," Meryl snapped at him, "Seriously, how can somebody like you be so blind?"

"Blind? Blind to what? And you're being real harsh there, little lady, take a breather before you keel over," Wolfwood replied, his tone cool and collected but hiding his genuine confusion at to what Meryl was referring to.

Meryl just stood up, continuing to glare at him as she just retorted, "(Y/N). You just love torturing them, huh? Making them watch you flirt with others when they've been waiting for you to turn around all this time. Does that make you happy, you psychopath?"

After a couple seconds, Meryl's eyes went wide, "Oh, crap. I wasn't supposed to say that." She frantically turned towards Wolfwood, "You didn't hear any of that, understood?!"

With that, Meryl turned and just about sprinted out of the saloon, leaving Wolfwood to his thoughts and to decipher what she had just let slip about you.

Wolfwood just sat there, staring down at his drink blankly as he tried to process what had just happened. Torturing you? Why would him flirting with other people torture you? Unless-?

Wolfwood's eyes suddenly went wide. There was no way - were you... into him? But how could that be?

You were such a confident individual, always sassing Wolfwood every time he called you "sweetheart" or "angel" or made remarks about you or Meryl or Vash. You had no issues butting heads with Wolfwood and standing up to his teasing and his banter, which was one of the reasons he liked you so much.

He found you breathtaking - you were somebody Wolfwood always wanted to protect, but he respected you and truly liked you for who you were, sass and all. However, your confidence and sass and the way you didn't even flinch whenever he flirted with you, even jokingly, made Wolfwood believe you didn't like him the same way he liked you. Unless...

"I really have been blind," Wolfwood muttered, before sighing and rubbing his face with his hand. Steeling himself, he chugged the last of his drink and stood up, his destination and goal clear in his mind - he was going to make his way straight to your room and he wasn't going to leave until he had spoken to you.

And Wolfwood did exactly that, walking all the way back to your hotel and knocking on your door with a closed fist. He could hear some quiet sniffling, and he felt his heart twist in his chest - were you crying? Because of him?

"Come on, sweetheart, don't leave me out here all night," Wolfwood called, trying to keep his tone teasing and light as he spoke through the door to you.

"Go away, Wolfwood."

Your voice was cold - surprisingly so. Wolfwood hadn't ever heard you sound like that in all the time he'd known you, even when you were mad. This was... something else.

He let out a slight sigh, letting his voice soften slightly, "Look, (Y/N), I know you're upset. I can hear it. I'm not leaving until you open this door, look me in the eye, and tell me to leave."

After a few moments, Wolfwood heard some shuffling behind the door, followed by the lock on your door opening and the doorknob turning as you opened the door.

Wolfwood felt his muscles twitch and he had to take a moment to stop himself from physically reacting to the sight of you - your eyes, oh, those beautiful eyes of yours were red and swollen. Tear tracks were evident on your cheeks and you were hiccupping softly as you looked up at him.

"Go away, Wolfwood. I don't... I don't want you here."

Your voice was quieter, less hard than before. It almost felt... empty. Wolfwood wasn't used to feeling his heart practically breaking in his chest - this expression on you, this empty quality to your voice, all of it was wrong.

"Is that the truth? If it's true, then send me away. Say it once again, and I'll leave."

Wolfwood's voice was equally quiet, surprisingly so, and serious. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him any longer, and you could feel your body beginning to shake.

'Don't cry. Don't you dare cry, (Y/N). Not in front of him,' You thought to yourself, refusing to look up at Wolfwood because you knew that if you did, you would begin to sob all over again.

You just heard a soft sigh come from Wolfwood, before a strong arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you so that you followed and found yourself back inside your room, door shut behind you and Wolfwood standing before you.

To your surprise, Wolfwood didn't speak a word for a surprisingly long time.

'I bet it's killing him,' You thought to yourself somewhat snidely.

However, after a few more moments of silence, Wolfwood did something that surprised you beyond reason - he stepped forward and slowly, but surely, wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug.

Your eyes went wide as you felt Wolfwood embrace you - was this really happening?

"Oh, God, are you dying, Wolfwood?" You whispered hoarsely, trying not to make it evident that you were enjoying his embrace.

"Oh, shut it, sweetheart, I'm trying to be comforting and crap," Wolfwood snapped back, but you could tell from his tone that there was no heat behind it.

You let out a small laugh before allowing yourself to return his surprising embrace, "You're succeeding."

You could feel Wolfwood chuckle at your comment, his arms tightening around you a bit more as he became more comfortable with the idea of holding you.

"So, sweetheart, what's got you all riled up like this, huh?"

Wolfwood's tone was softer than you'd heard it - it was gentle and quiet, as if he were carefully treading around the topic and trying to initiate a dialogue with you, giving you a chance to open up to him if you felt comfortable to do so.

You took a deep, shaky breath, unsure if you were going to be able to bring up the truth of what upset you so badly to the man who had caused the upset.

"It was me. Wasn't it, (Y/N)? I got you this upset."

Wolfwood said it so suddenly and so seriously that you jerked backwards as if you had just experienced an electric shock, your eyes wide as you looked up at him.

A small chuckle escaped Wolfwood's lips, "I saw the way you were glaring at me all evening, sweetheart. You're not subtle. I also saw you leave after you spoke to Meryl, and you didn't look back at me as you left. I'm the reason you're upset."

His astute observations left you speechless. And so, you simply looked down, unable to look him in the eyes. How were you going to tell him the truth?

However, before you could even begin to start to put together an explanation, Wolfwood just continued, "You know, sweetheart, for what it's worth, I've still been a pretty blind idiot myself."

That caused you to look back up at him, your eyebrows furrowing, "What do you mean, Wolfwood?"

His signature smirk appeared on his face as he leaned down slightly, bringing his hand under your chin to tilt your face up so that your faces were now mere centimeters apart. You could feel the heat rising to your face as your eyes flitted down to his lips and then back up to his eyes. Another soft chuckle escaped his throat as he leaned down even closer until his lips were just barely brushing against yours, your heart thundering in your chest.

"You're mine, (Y/N). You're mine, and only mine. Got that, sweetheart?"

Before you could even answer, Wolfwood shifted slightly and closed the remaining distance between the two of you, his lips pressing up against yours fully in a passionate, heated kiss.

You found yourself reaching up to bury your hands in his dark hair, tugging him slightly so that you could kiss him deeper. After a few moments, Wolfwood strayed, his lips ghosting over your skin and leaving marks all the way across your jaw and down your neck, a soft moan escaping your lips with every mark Wolfwood left.

Once the two of you broke apart, each of you panting gently, you had a dazed look on your face and half a dozen dark, reddish-purple marks down the side of your neck, and Wolfwood's hair was now beautifully tussled, his lips slightly kiss-swollen - he looked more handsome than you'd ever seen him before. Could this really be happening?

With a growl, Wolfwood just pulled you closer to him, his lips already returning to yours with a hunger.

"Mine."

It was going to be one hell of a night.

#anya's athenaeum #trigun #trigun stampede #trigun stampede x reader #trigun x reader #nicholas d wolfwood #wolfwood #wolfwood x reader

278 notes · View notes