#bar equipment near me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crowhyun · 1 month ago

Note

gym rat taehyun who you end us seeing frequently at the gym whenever you’re around too and he starts helping you out on some of the stuff and sexual tension and then BAM, sex

a/n: I haven't written smut in so long so please bare with me 😭 I'm trying to get back into the groove of it but I've kinda lost confidence though I hope that doesn't show in my works lol. I hope you enjoy this, anon, and thank you for requesting!!

Warnings: smut, pnv, exhibitionism, unprotected sex but hyun's pull out game is top tier, I would know

WC: 1.8k

The gym a few blocks away from your apartment was always too crowded for your taste. Midday was the worst, with every piece of equipment occupied, and the ones that weren't were a sweaty mess due to peoples' lack of politeness.

Though, around 10PM was always the best time to go. It was much less crowded, and it was almost calming, in a way.

You, along with a few other late night gym rats, took this time to your advantage. The gym was nearly empty, and hip-hop music played quietly from the speakers. The sound of equipment moving and barbells clanking was miniscule compared to how it usually was.

Though, you'd be lying to yourself if you said that that was the only reason you came to the gym at that time.

Your other reason - your main reason - was currently at the pull-up bar, biceps bulging and sweat dripping down his clear skin as he effortlessly hoisted himself up on the bar. You were quite familiar with this man, or at least as familiar as you could get from afar. Without fail, he'd always be at the gym at this time, always alone, and ever so efficient in his workouts.

You tried not to stare as you leisurely stretched. You weren't in the mood for heavy lifting or cardio, yet you were fully intent on boy watching.

After what seemed like over a dozen pull-ups, the man hopped down from the bar, turning around with a hand on his hip to grab his towel, and you quickly looked away to not get caught ogling. To look busy, you continued with your stretching, doing basic stretches to pass the time. You were so distracted trying to look busy that you hadn't even noticed a certain someone approaching until you heard his voice.

"Your form isn't good." He said, causing you to flinch and sir upright, staring right at the man who was sipping from his water bottle.

Is he talking to me?, you thought. Though, he was obvious who he was talking to, due to his large brown eyes seemingly piercing into your soul. "...huh?" Was all that you could muster out.

"Sorry." He apologized, screwing his water bottle shut. "I don't mean to bother you, but I just thought that I should tell you that your form isn't very good. You might hurt yourself."

Your lips went into an O-shape as you realized what he was saying, and you couldn't help but feel embarrassed. You fully expected him to just walk away after that, but he spoke once more.

"I can help with some stretches if you'd like." He said. "I'm no personal trainer, but I know a thing or two."

"Oh...you'd do that?" You asked, trying to keep your voice steady as you inwardly fangirled, knowing that this was the perfect opportunity to get closer to the man you've been crushing on.

"Yeah, of course." He nodded, placing his water bottle down and coming closer, your heart beating a mile a minute. He gave you a sweet smile before he bent down to your level, and you got a close up look at his sweaty skin and well built arms, causing you to shiver in anticipation.

"See, when you're doing lunge stretches, you have to make sure your back is flat and your core is engaged so that you can keep your balance." He said, his voice soft, though the near emptiness of the gym made it seem as if he were loud and clear. He got into position beside you, showing off the proper way to stretch, and you followed suit.

Throught the stretches, you had learned that his name was Taehyun, and he was pretty flexible himself. You may have even purposefully made yourself seem incompetent in your stretches so that he wouldn't leave anytime soon. It was getting later and later, but you didn't want to go home - not yet.

"Hamstring stretches are a bit harder, as most people don't stretch for long enough." He informed you, gently pushing you onto your back. "How flexible are you?" He asked, helping you to hike your leg up. You were hyper aware of the feeling of his strong hands on you, and the change of position nearly made you dizzy.

"Uh, maybe moderately?" You spoke, clearing your throat in an effort to sound like your panties weren't starting to get damp.

"Moderately?" He chuckled with a slight tilt to his head. "We'll see about that then, yeah? Just tell me when it's too much." He said, his hand circling around your calf as he started to slowly push your leg up...up...and up.

You winced a bit, the stretch starting to get painful, but you were too distracted by how he placed his other hand right on your thigh.

"There you go." He encouraged, your leg straight up and pushed against his shoulder as he kneeled down in front of you. "How're you feeling? Think you can go a bit more?"

"I can definitely feel the stretch." You chuckled, your heartrate beating a mile a minute. "I think I can go further, though."

With that, he started to slowly push your leg up once more, your thigh almost touching your chest. "Hmm, you're pretty flexible, aren't you?" He spoke, and you don't know if it's the rising desire within you or not, but his voice was starting to sound more...intimate.

"I didn't...I didn't realize before now." You said, finding it hard to breathe.

"Good thing you have me here then, huh?" He smirked, the sight making your walls clench around nothing. He then started to slowly lower your leg before doing the same to the other one. Your breath hitched at the stretch, and you winced.

"Fuck..." You whispered, unable to keep it in.

"Just a bit more, you got it." He said, his whisper matching yours as he stretched you further. His torso pressed against your leg, and you couldn't help yourself from taking a peek down between your legs. Truthfully, you just wanted to make sure you didn't completely soak through your leggings, but instead, you got a glimpse of what Taehyun was packing. The dim light of the gym reflected on the bulge in his gym shorts, and you literally felt your heart beat in your clit.

You quickly looked back up, eyes slightly widening, just to see that he was making eye contact with you. There was a certain gleam in his eyes that told you that he knew exactly what you were looking at.

If that didn't tell you enough, then his next actions did.

Stretching your leg so that your thigh met your chest, he positioned himself so that he was pressing up against you, and your breath hitched once you felt his bulge directly press against your clothed heat.

Shit...he's so close.

"There you go..." He said, his voice dangerously lustful. "Now you're all stretched out for me."

You weren't exactly sure when the switch flipped, and at this point, you didn't care if you were soaking through your leggings or not. You weren't crazy, his voice definitely held some underlying tension there, and neither of you could hide from it.

"Now that you're all stretched out, you can work out safely, no matter how hard."

Next thing you know, your leggings were hanging off of one leg, and your panties were pushed to the side to accommodate for how Taehyun's girth was stretching you out in a completely different way.

Sweat dripped down the strands of his wet hair, and your leg was hiked up on his shoulder, ensuring that you had no way to hide from just how deliciously he was rocking his hips into yours.

It was a caconaphy of hushed moans, grunts and whimpers, the sounds of your bodies colliding. You but your lip harshly to try and silence yourself even though you were pretty sure the gym was empty at this time. Taehyun's cock ruthlessly massaged your g-spot with each thrust, and he groaned in ecstacy as your nails dug into his arms in order to brace yourself.

"Ah- ah- ah-" Staccato moans left your lips as your body jerked each time his tip slammed against that spot within you, his pelvis hitting your clit over and over again.

"Fuck, you're so tight." He groaned, his brows furrowed in concentration, solely focused on fucking you dumb on his cock.

A loud keen ripped from your throat as he slightly adjusted his positioning, his cock hitting so deep inside your fluttering walls. Your hips bucked up and your other leg lifted, the urge to close your legs and run away from the numbing pleasure growing greater.

"Nuh-uh." Taehyun tsked, shaking his head as he roughly spread your legs, his cock pushing deeper inside of you. "C'mon, you can take it. Take this cock." He grunted, gifting you with a particularly harsh thrust that had you reeling.

Your head fell back on the mat underneath you and your thighs shook. You could feel his cock throb inside of you, his low grunts only driving you closer to the edge. You then gasped loudly, your jaw dropping and your body tensing.

"C-cumming, I'm cum-" You stammered out, only to cut yourself off with a high pitched moan that would've been impossible for you to keep in. Your pussy walls clamped around Taehyun's thick shaft like a vice, and he felt like he was seconds away from absolutely losing it at the way your fucked out face contorted into barely concealed pleasure as you creamed all around his cock.

He wrapped his hands around your wrists, holding you down as he pumped faster, his balls tightening as he saw completion on the horizon. "Mmmh, that's it...cum on my cock just like- hah- that." He groaned, his jaw clenching as his blunt nails dug into your wrists, and before he knew it, he couldn't take anymore.

He was quick to pull out of your tight heat, which was almost painful, but that no longer mattered to him, because his hot, thick cum was spurting out of his glistening cock and onto your stomach. The hottest whine left his throat as he came down from his high, his chest heaving up and down, and his eyes darting down to your fucked out form.

A few minutes of comfortable silence passed, the only sound being the low volume of the music playing through the gym speakers and the sound of the both of you catching your breaths.

"Well, uhm..." He suddenly spoke, clearing his throat. You noticed that he was avoiding eye contact, and the tips of his ears were tinted red.

Was he...embarrassed?

You fought the urge to laugh as he continued.

"If you just, uh...do those stretches before every workout, you should be good to go." He said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Thanks..." You spoke, your voice a bit hoarse. "For helping me stretch...and for the little present you gave me." You said, referring to his seed that was splattered across your stomach, seeping down to your belly button.

His eyes widened and he choked, almost as if he forgot that he had came on you.

"I'll...deal with that."

#txt taehyun #taehyun x reader #taehyun smut #txt smut #txt x reader #crowhyun requests #taehyun requests

215 notes · View notes

xlocalxpunkx · 4 months ago

Text

I’m Your Man, 18+

Logan Howlett x Mutant!AFAB! Reader

Warnings: Angsty, mentions of abuse, established relationship, toxic! Cheater! Logan, crying, breaking up, death, mentions old man! Logan, sexual themes, 18+, no pronouns used but you do have his kid so afab, trust the process pls

Summary: Logan is wallowing as he ages about his regretful relationship with you. He begs you to take him back after years have passed.

Inspo: I’m Your Man- Lucas Silveira

If you want a lover, I'll do anything you ask me to

It all started gradually. Your relationship with Logan was odd when you first met him. He was a cage fighter. You attended those fights with your abusive ex. The nights usually ended badly, your ex never seeming to want to bid on Logan’s behalf despite his reputation. The night they had lost their bet after almost 10 days in a row, they had turned their anger on you. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the last. Logan had stepped in, and almost killed them. He couldn’t stand seeing such a darling thing like you get beat on for no fucking reason. From then on, you were inseparable. You didn’t have anywhere else to go, so Logan took you with him.

And if you want another kind of love, I'll wear a mask for you

Logan didn’t want a relationship with you. You were his friend; compassionate, loving, doting. He could hear your heart beat race when you were near him. He could smell you when your blood soared downward. He couldn’t resist the temptation though. Your hands snaked through his hair, drunk from the bar he was fighting at that night. The heated kiss you shared changed everything. You were embarrassed about it the next day, but Logan brushed it off. He didn’t want to ruin what you two had, or draw you into his hellscape life.

If you want a partner, take my hand

The day Logan asked you to be his, you practically screamed in excitement. You threw your arms around his neck, pressing kisses all over his face. He chuckled, holding you against him. Your scent calmed him down. He would hold you forever if he could. You were his, he was yours. He would show it every time you were out. Holding your hand, your waist, whatever he could touch on you. Almost as if he was making sure you were real, despite being right in front of him. You knew his mutation, you had no fear of him. You were a mutant too, after all. Not as equipped as him, but you could make plants grow. It added literal life to your life. It was calming for you.

Or if you want to strike me down in anger, here I stand

Months and months together, Logan’s demeanor changed. He was loving one moment, vicious the next. You had intimate moments with him, vulnerable ones. Each time he opened up to you, each time you got a little closer to the enigma of Logan Howlett, he pushed you away. Screaming, snappy remarks, taking others and making you wait outside a motel room you shared in the cold. You listened to every minute of it, wondering what you did wrong to deserve this. You’d grow flowers in the dirt outside, twisting their petals and asking yourself why. Everything he could do to push you away, he did.

I'm your man

The day he found you crying in the bathroom because of him, he knew he needed to stop. Something in him wouldn’t let him though. He screamed at you, telling you that you were worthless. That you were the worst thing to ever happen to him. The opposite was true, but Logan didn’t want you to know that he’d do anything for you. That with one word, he’d wipe out all of humanity and the mutants for you. That night, you walked out that door, never wanting to see Logan ever again. His handsome face, his broad shoulders, his defined torso. Everything about him disgusted you.

If you want a boxer, I will step into the ring for you

Logan threw himself into the fights after that. He didn’t care. After you left, he had absolutely nothing. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t die. Sometimes he’d throw a fight, just to feel pain, and it didn’t do anything but reveal his abilities and make him skip to the next town. That was where he found Rogue. That was when he ended up at the mansion.

And if you want a doctor, I'll examine every inch of you

Charles had brought in a patient after a rough mission. You were battered, injured and bloody from a fight with human mutant-exterminators. They had stalked you, figured out you were just a ��tree-hugger’ but when they tried to attack you, a rage you hid for so long released itself. You killed all of them. Every single one. They kept coming, and coming, yet you drove them back. When Logan heard Jean talking about a patient, who sounded suspiciously like you, he asked if he could check in on you. He only wanted to confirm his curiosity, not telling the rest of them what his thoughts were. Charles knew. He only hoped you would be okay to see him, hoping you could help the Wolverine more than he could.

If you want a driver, climb inside

You felt claustrophobic in the mansion. He was there when you woke up. He was always there. Wandering around the mansion, you knew he was only 15 feet behind you. Surrounded by people worshipping the ground your now ex walked on. He remained a stand-offish asshole to everyone, saving a snide remark for Scott every now and then. He was brisker than usual, angrier. You wouldn’t talk to him. That was, until you had a panic attack at 2 A.M. You were hyperventilating, on the verge of collapse. Logan had heard it, and came to your rescue. You found yourself clinging to his broad frame, crying into his tank top. You were sobbing and shaking. He offered to take you for a drive, roll the windows down and let you get some fresh air. You felt at peace in his familiar truck. You almost forgot everything he did to you. A low, “I’m sorry… for everything, love.” whispered into the wind. You gave no response.

Or if you want to take me for a ride, you know you can, 'cause I'm your man

The two of you bonded over the next year at the mansion. Logan made every move he could to make up what he did to you. He brought you flower seeds, your favorites, for you to grow. He made you food. He comforted you after your nightmares and calmed you down when your anxiety got the best of you. A sweet moment, the two of you alone in the common room at midnight after another bout of nightmares between you both. Hand in hand, a slow moving love. Logan was the best you ever had, and still is. The gentle kisses, the soft grips, you truly thought he had changed.

Ah, the moons too bright, the chains too tight

Logan didn’t know what it was about committing to you that made him so scared. He didn’t want to put a label on what you had. He shouldn’t have done it. He really shouldn’t have. When you walked in on him kissing Jean, you didn’t know why you didn’t expect it to happen. He had done this before. You slapped him, screamed at him like you never had the courage to before. You left the mansion, going back out on your own. Charles refused to locate you, to tell Logan you were safe. You were fine, especially without him.

The beast won't go to sleep

Logan couldn’t sleep after you left. He laid awake in the bed he once shared with you. Regret and sorrow filled his body, shame filled his soul. He didn’t know why he was like this. He refused to touch another woman after that. He wanted you, only you. Being celibate was easy enough. Most women don’t like being compared to someone outright to their face. He was deliberately an asshole, even to Jean.

I've been running through these promises to you, that I made and could not keep

He looked back on every promise he made you. Every ‘I’ll get better’, ‘I won’t do it again, yet he continued to do it. Only once you left, did he seem to realize what you meant to him. You stayed for years, despite his behavior. You took him back once, but he knows you would never take him back again. Maybe if he was dying, but he wasn’t dying anytime soon. He missed you; your smile, your smell, your hair. Fuck, he missed everything about you.

Ah, but a man never got a woman back, not by begging on his knees

As Logan aged, his regenerative abilities wearing off, he yearned to have you by his side. He wanted love. The true, pure love you had already showed him, but he was too young and naive to take. He wanted nothing more than to find you, to live out the rest of his life with you. To have you in the mornings, nights, and afternoons. To sleep by your side, to eat by your side, to be next to you. All he could think about was you.

I'd crawl to you, baby, and I'd fall at your feet

While he was doing his job as a chauffeur, Logan thought he caught a glimpse of you. Your back turned to him, sitting at a table by yourself. You were drinking coffee, playing with the petals of a singular flower. He slammed on his brakes. Luckily, he didn’t have a passenger. He pulled over into a parking lot. Quickly, he climbed out of the vehicle. A wicked grin spread across his features with every step he took towards you. You barely looked any different. A few lines around your eyes and mouth, showing you had aged just as he had. He tentatively took a few more steps towards you, gently asking, “Is this seat taken?”.

You were taken aback by the familiar voice. You had almost forgotten the shivers it sent down your spine. “What’re you doing here?” You questioned. When you turned to him, expecting the once young man you had left, and saw the rugged, bearded old man in front of you, you gasped. He nodded, looking down, ashamed to see the hurt in your eyes still upon seeing him.

“Saw you, wanted to say hello. I understand if you don’t want me around. I’ll leave.” He stated, quietly. You could see the sadness in him, the loneliness. He had aged, aged well, but still aged. He seemed tired, the grooves in his face deep and eye bags prominent. You were both too old to care about what happened in this past anymore.

“Join me.” You commanded. You tapped the table for the seat across from you. Logan gave you a soft smile, gingerly taking the seat. The two of you caught up. He told you everything that happened from the minute you left the mansion to why he was here talking to you now. He told you about the adamantium poisoning, how he was aging. He told you about Charles. You told him about your life, everything about it and how you had missed him.

I'd howl at your beauty, like a dog in heat

You had given Logan your cell phone number in case he needed someone to talk to, to vent to. You reckoned he would never use it, but still, the offer stood. Logan kept playing in his head what to text, when to text. It had been a few weeks before you heard from him again. Your phone pinged,

‘You are still as beautiful as the day you left’

A choked smile spread across your face. Despite everything, Logan still gave you butterflies. He could make you blush, even as you got old. You took the initiative, texting him, asking him to meet up for drinks. Your heart spun, excited to him again.

And I'd claw at your heart, I'd tear at your sheets

The night you met for drinks, he clung to your side. Just like he used to do, hand on your waist, knees touching yours. When you got tipsy and one of your hands found its way into petting his hair, he couldn’t help the moan that let out at the physical contact. He hadn’t touched anyone since you left. He hasn’t cuddled or been loved. You suppressed giggles, before returning to his hair again. You took him to your home as midnight drew closer. With promises of a comfy couch to crash on and breakfast in the morning, Logan couldn’t refuse the offer. Somehow, someway, you ended up in bed together. Whether it was drunk or true intentions, you both enjoyed yourself more than you have in years.

I'd say please, please, 'cause I'm your man

When you awoke, you were curled up into the large man’s side. Head on his chest, you listened to his soft snores. His arm wrapped around you, bringing you closer to him. You smiled, closing your eyes again. The next time you woke up, it was because of Logan twitching. A grunt. A snarl. You gently shook him awake. His eyes snapped open, claws unsheathing. He relaxed the minute he realized it was you, putting the claws away. He pulled you to him, pressing his lips to the top of your head. You buried your face in his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist like his were your back. You felt hot, wet tears hit the top of your head.

“I’d do anything for you, anything, to keep you here.” He whispered. You didn’t respond.

And if you've got to sleep a moment on the road, I will steer for you

You let Logan drive you to his place, not far from yours. He was resting his arm against the open window, head lolling into his hand. He accidentally zoned out, almost falling asleep. You could see how tired he was. When you got there, no one else seemed to be there. He sat down on his couch. You sat next to him. He grabbed ahold of you, pulling you to him. He fell asleep again, holding you in his arms. Snores filled the room, luring you to sleep with him.

And if you want to work the street alone, I'll disappear for you

You woke up before him. Untangling from his arms, he must sleep deeper with his age now. You manage to slip out of the house unnoticed. You walked back to your house, questioning everything you were feeling about the man you had spent so many years hating and regretting. Logan woke up eventually, worry filling him when he noticed you weren’t with him anymore. He had to respect your wishes though, he left you alone. The worry filled him wouldn’t allow him to. He followed you, watching you. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help it.

And if you want a father for your child

Logan continued to follow you for days on end. When he passed your house, seeing a vehicle he didn’t recognize, jealousy panted in his heart. A young boy walked out of your house. He was shocked, to say the least. He didn’t believe you liked younger men. You walked out a few minutes after him, smiling and laughing. You walked the young man to his car, even opening the door for him. You hugged him. Logan felt stupid, stupid for watching you, stupid for thinking he had a chance with a person like you. Logan almost drove off, but you spotted him before he could. He sighed, making his way out of his car. The way your face fell upon seeing him. The young man looked at Logan, then at you, then questioned who he was.

He walked up to the two of you. He could now clearly see the young man in front of him. He looked a lot like himself, actually; thick eyebrows, dark brown hair, honey hazel eyes. Yet, he had your nose, your smile. Realization dawned on Logan before you could get the words out.

“Son, this is… well, this is Logan.” You stuttered out. Your son’s eyes widened. He nodded, sticking his hand out to shake the larger man’s hand. Logan grasped it, shaking it firmly.

“Nice to meet you, kid.” Logan stated, a warm smile on his face. You glanced between the two, noting the tension in the air. You nodded to your son, giving him permission to leave. He got in his car, pulling out of your drive way. He waved goodbye to you and Logan, driving off.

“You never told me.” Logan said.

“It was years ago. I was pregnant when I left the mansion, I didn’t know it yet.” You responded, leaving it at that.

Or only want to walk with me a while, across the sand, well I'm your man

Logan didn’t know how to feel. He had a son. He could have had a family, something he yearned for his entire life but figured he could never have. You didn’t tell him when you were telling him about your life. Even with the confusion and disappointment, when you grabbed his hand, pulling him with you to walk in your neighborhood, he couldn’t help the smile that graced his features. The feeling of warmth in his heart was all he had to know that it didn’t matter you kept it from him. He’d build a relationship with his son, with you, with his family. He’d introduce you to Laura. He would do anything to grow old with you. He wanted a future with you, for as long as he could live. He didn’t know when the adamantium poison would take him, but he knew he would let you be by his side the entire time. As long as you would have him, he’d be your man.

A/N: listened to this song and couldn’t help myself, please behead me

#deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #deadpool 3 #hugh jackman #deadpool #wolverine #the worst logan #logan x reader #logan howlett smut #xmen #x men 97 #x men comics #x men movies #x men origins: wolverine #Spotify #x reader

160 notes · View notes

fluentmoviequoter · 18 days ago

Text

Lonely Christmas

hot cocoa bar celebration🧤❄️🎄 | requested here

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!Army vet!cop!reader

Summary: During a Christmas Eve night shift with Tim Bradford, you glimpse what is behind his tough exterior.

Warnings/Word Count: vague depictions of veteran-specific depression, brief angst, Tim yells at r, fluff and comfort. 1.1k+ words

A/N: This is a dynamic (Tim with a partner who was also in the Army) that I've had on my mind for a while. While this is a really fast-paced blurb-like fic specific to Christmas, I'd really love to write more of this pairing if anyone is interested. Sorry for the short length but I really wanted to get it done before Christmas Eve🫶🏼

Working the night shift on Christmas Eve feels like the opposite of a Christmas miracle. The long night is made worse when you’re partnered with Tim Bradford. He’s had something against you since you joined the department after leaving the Army. Though you’ve never spent more than a few hours with Mid-Wilshire’s grumpiest officer, you know he doesn’t like you, so you decide to stay quiet and obedient to make Santa’s job – and your own – a little easier tonight.

“Merry Christmas,” you greet as you enter the passenger seat of Tim’s shop.

Tim huffs, and you set a small treat bag of cookies from a nearby bakery in the console without a word.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

“Is Christmas Eve usually hectic?” you inquire.

“Depends on the year. Based on the last few weeks, I’d say it’ll keep us busy.”

You nod, then inquire, “Any plans for Christmas tomorrow?”

“Nope. Heads up, grey Challenger.”

“I’ll run the plate,” you offer, secretly wishing you were in a sleigh rather than a shop.

“VA Hospital reported a disturbance,” dispatch radios. “Two armed men forced their way into a room and have barricaded themselves in with equipment.”

“Responding,” Tim replies. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” you inquire softly.

“Try to twist this into some merry Christmas thing. We’re vets, we know there are plenty of people like us spending the holidays alone, grieving for those we’ve lost, and I don’t need you to make this specific slice of reality any harder than it already is,” Tim snaps. “So, let’s deal with this call like it’s not Christmas and move on.”

As your shift comes to an end, with the brutal reminder that lonely people go to extremes even during the holidays and several emotional bruises from Tim snapping at you more than often, you try to remind him that he is not alone. Over the last few years, you’ve learned to take Tim’s attitude and swings from helpful superior to the short-tempered Bradford the station knows him as in stride.

Walking through the station to return to your lonely home, you’re surprised to hear Tim call your name. You turn to face him, and he pulls his backpack strap tighter against his shoulder. It’s nearing midnight, almost Christmas, and you’re expecting one more reprimand to conclude the all-but-perfect night shift.

“Do you want to come over for dinner?” he offers. “My sister dropped off a casserole this afternoon.”

“Dinner at midnight?” you clarify with a grin. “I’d love to. Only if you’re sure, I don’t want to impose on you on Christmas.”

“I’m free for the next few hours.”

You follow Tim out of the station and tip your head in thanks after he opens the passenger door of his truck for you. The ride to his house is quiet, only the low humming of instrumental Christmas music filling the space as Tim navigates the quiet (for once) streets of Los Angeles.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” you ask as you enter his home.

“Going to visit my sister and nephews for lunch and gifts,” he replies. “You?”

“I’ve got a few people to see.”

Tim nods and begins preparing the food. You start to speak simultaneously, and your expression of gratitude is cut short when you smile. “Go ahead,” you murmur.

“I wanted to apologize for earlier,” Tim begins. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you about the vet in the hospital. It just… it reminded me of one of the guys in my last unit. Seeing people like us struggling around the holidays is hard, but you know that, and I had no excuse to yell at you like that. So, I’m sorry.”

“I do know that, but I can also understand that your response is valid. I probably would have overstepped, and honestly I’d rather you yell at me before I can do something that pushes you away rather than letting me do it and suffer the consequences.”

Tim’s brows pinch as he asks, “And what do you think the consequences would be?”

“Let’s just say I would hate to end up on the Bradford Naughty List.”

Tim’s face shifts into a smile as he shakes his head, and you grin at him before offering to get plates for dinner.

Something shifts beneath your cheek, pulling you from a peaceful slumber. You don’t sleep well most nights, and for a moment, you think Christmas magic lulled you to sleep. Then you realize that the fabric under your face looks awfully familiar. Sitting up, you press your lips together as you watch Tim blink and look at you. You remember eating dinner side-by-side and watching a rerun of It’s a Wonderful Life. You had no intention of falling asleep together, or in his house, for that matter.

“You look your cutest like this,” Tim rumbles, his voice thick with sleep and concerningly unfiltered.

“But I just woke up,” you argue.

Tim nods, his full attention on you, and states, “I know what I said.”

“I- I should probably go. You have your family to visit. Merry Christmas, Tim, and thanks again for dinner.”

While you gather your things, Tim watches your movements from the couch.

“Why do you care so much?” he asks.

“About what?” you ask, looking up from your bag.

“Me, people… You tried to make last night feel like Christmas. Why?”

You shrug. “Everyone deserves some magic, and there’s no better time than Christmas. And, as for you… I have an idea of what it’s like. I do know that it’s not easy, and though I can’t imagine what you’ve dealt with specifically, you haven’t let it keep you from seeing the good in people. Even if you don’t let on that you do.”

“I see the bad too.”

“Job hazard. Despite seeing that bad side, you still let people close. That’s why I care about you, because you’re a good person.” Tim opens his mouth again, and you add, “That last point was objective, it’s not up for debate.”

“Do you want to stay?” Tim asks after a moment. “You shouldn’t be alone on Christmas, either.”

“Your family,” you remind him.

“I’m sure they have an extra plate,” Tim teases.

You gesture to your outfit and slept-on hair, but Tim stands and lays his hands on your shoulders.

“I already said you look your cutest like this.”

“Thought you were incoherent and half-asleep.”

“But don’t I see the good in people?”

Your head falls back as you groan. Tim offers to drive you home to let you get ready, and you realize that you wouldn’t mind spending Christmas with him and his family. Even if he yells at you and calls you cute mere hours apart. It’s part of his Tim Bradford charm.

#fluentmoviequoter hot cocoa bar🧤❄️🎄#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #the rookie x reader #the rookie abc #fem!reader #hanna writes✯

114 notes · View notes

roosterforme · 2 years ago

Text

Batting Practice Part 15 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: A perfect day isn't enough to solve all your problems, but a Bradley who shows you how much he wants you and Everett might just do the trick.

Warnings: Fluff and swearing

Length: 3200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

As Bradley pulled into the lot at Petco Park, he flashed a VIP parking pass at the guard. You still weren't sure why you needed to get to the game so early, but honestly, you didn't mind spending some extra time around Bradley today. He made Everett happy, and you were really considering giving him a second chance. Because he made you happy, too.

Bradley and Everett were singing a song about the Phillie Phanatic, and now you were singing along too. He held your hand tight while he parked the Bronco next to the ballpark, and when he grinned and pulled you out through his door with him, you couldn't help but smile.

"I'm so happy you came," he whispered, looking down at you with a crooked smile that had your heart melting. "I planned a lot of stuff to surprise Ev, but if you and he aren't having fun, then we can always just get some food or leave early."

You shook your head at him, amazed that he didn't get it yet. "There's nothing that kid wants more than to spend the day with you, watching the Phillies."

"That's what I want, too," he replied, opening the back door and lifting Everett down. "Ready, kiddo? I have something cool to show you."

You walked a few steps behind them as they made their way to the turnstile hand in hand. "What's faster, a slider or a changeup? And how does the catcher know when to get the pitcher to throw a curveball?" Everett rambled. They looked adorable in their matching backwards caps.

"They practice together a lot. Just the two of them. And they get really good at knowing how to communicate."

"That's cool. I wanna be a pitcher and a power hitter."

"Kid, if you can manage to combine those two, you'll hit the majors for sure," Bradley told him, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were there. With a smile, he handed three tickets to the guy in the booth, and next thing you knew, you were all being ushered through an underground tunnel.

"Where are we going exactly?" you asked Bradley, losing the battle to slip your hand into his free one. The three of you were being led down a long ramp by a tour guide named John who had given each of you VIP badges to wear.

"On a locker room tour," he replied, and then Everett really got excited.

"I get to go in the locker room?" he asked, skipping ahead and making John chuckle.

"I told them you wanted to see the visitors' locker room," Bradley told Everett. "Maybe some of the Phillies uniforms will be hanging up."

And they were. You stood in the middle of the visitor's suite that looked more like a luxury hotel than a men's locker room while Everett ran around with your phone taking pictures. "Mom! Take a picture of us in front of the bats!"

You snapped a few photos of Bradley and Everett standing near the equipment, and then you tucked your phone away. "This is so cool," you whispered to Bradley while the tour guide showed Everett the snack bar that was reserved for the players. "Thank you."

Bradley sighed. "Jake hooked it up. He begged the groundskeeper. I think he felt bad for what he said to you at the bar."

You nodded and met his eyes. "He told me he likes moms." You watched his eyes narrow just a fraction as he licked his lips.

"Yeah, well I love moms, actually. I was just overcompensating for my insecurities before. You and Ev are intimidating."

You scoffed. "Intimidating?"

Bradley nodded, his brown eyes sincere. "I told you, Kitten, you two are perfect. And I got in my own head."

"I'm eating the snacks that the players eat!" Everett announced, holding up a bag of peanuts. The tour guide let him take a few as he led all three of you into one of the press boxes.

Your hand ended up in Bradley's and he kept pulling you closer, but once he saw who was in the press box, his grip on your hand tightened until it was almost painful.

"Ev, you asked who the starting pitchers were?" Bradley said in awe. "Well, here they are."

"Hey, are you Everett?" asked the Phillies starting pitcher, and you were afraid your son and Bradley were both going to faint.

"Yeah?" your son asked, and John led him closer to the table where two men were sitting.

"Wait, are you really a Phillies fan? I heard you're from San Diego!" said the Padres pitcher with a laugh.

"I like you, too!" Everett said hurriedly. "The Padres are my second favorite team, I swear!" You laughed and both pitchers smiled at you.

"How about we both sign a shirt for you?" asked the Phillies pitcher. "I don't think anyone else has a shirt signed by rival pitchers."

"Holy shit," Bradley muttered as he watched them each sign an MLB all-stars shirt and hand it to Everett.

"Why don't you get in there with him for a photo, Coach?" you asked. Bradley let go of your hand so fast to scramble behind the table with Everett, and you snapped a few pictures of the four of them. Then the pitchers stood and shook hands with Bradley, and it amazed you to see that he was built exactly like the professionals were. Tall, broad and strong.

"Have fun with your parents, Everett," the Padres pitcher told him, knocking his Phillies cap crooked and smiling. "Enjoy the game."

"We will!" Everett and Bradley said in unison, and you stood frozen in place. Maybe they had been too excited to process the word parents, but you'd heard it loud and clear.

They both looked dazed as John led them back through the tunnel. "Are you both okay?" you asked with a laugh as Bradley's hand found yours again.

"That was awesome," Bradley said, tossing Ev's new shirt over his shoulder as they emptied out of the tunnel and onto the ballfield. It was a perfect, clear day, and you heard John tell Everett he could run around anywhere except on the outfield. You watched your son take off like a rocket and run around the bases while you cheered for him. He looked so small out on a real infield.

"Oh, fuck it," Bradley said, and he took off running the bases too while you laughed and cheerer for both of them. Bradley caught up to Everett near home plate where you were standing, and after they both crossed the bag, he scooped Everett up into his arms.

They were both out of breath as Bradley said, "You'll have to get used to running that far if you're a power hitter."

"I can do it," Everett told him, and they had gigantic, matching smiles on their faces.

You snapped a few more photos, and then John asked, "Want to throw some pitches?" He handed Bradley a few pristine baseballs, and he and Everett took off toward the pitcher's mound. You stood off to the side as Bradley got Everett set up and in position with one of the balls. Then your son threw a pitch that didn't quite have enough force behind it to make it all the way to home plate, but it was thrown so accurately, you watched it roll to where the batters normally stood.

"Wow! Great job, Ev! Very accurate!" you shouted, thoroughly impressed. He threw a second pitch, and it was just as good as the first one. Then you watched Bradley trade places with him and wind up to throw what you thought was a slider. It sailed beautifully past home plate and bounced off the advertisement signs. He threw a second one that looked like a fastball.

"Hey! You're good!" said John as Bradley and Everett ran from the mound to home plate. "Did you play?"

"Just in college," Bradley replied, collecting the balls so John didn't have to. "A long time ago."

"He's a tee ball coach!" Everett announced. "He coaches my team!"

You didn't know if you could remember a time Everett looked this happy, and you felt like you were going to cry. This wasn't a one off. You needed this kind of day to happen again. Maybe not on the grand scale of gallivanting around Petco Park like VIPs, but you needed more days in the park getting ice cream. You needed more pizza nights. You need to have Bradley touching you at the batting cages and making love in his Bronco.

"Come here, Kitten," he called, waving you over. "I want a picture of the three of us on home plate."

You closed the distance to them, and Bradley tucked you against his side with Everett in front of both of you. John took some pictures with Bradley's phone, and you let your head rest on his shoulder. "Thank you for doing this," you whispered, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "He's in heaven."

"So am I," Bradley replied softly before kissing your lips. "I didn't do anything though. All I did was mess up, Kitten." He was being sincere, and you knew it. You thought you'd have to be an idiot to not forgive him. When John handed his phone back to him, you wrapped your arms around Bradley's waist.

"Cute family photos," John remarked, and Everett turned to see you in Bradley's arms.

"Thanks," Bradley replied as he rubbed your back. "Hey, Ev, why don't you run the bases one last time, kiddo?"

"I'll time you," John told him, setting the stopwatch on his phone and telling Ev when to start.

You looked up at Bradley and whispered, "I forgive you." He squeezed you tighter and let out a deep sigh of relief that made you smile. "And not just because today is perfect, but also because Everett and I are both attached to you, so you better not mess this up."

His lips were on yours in the sweetest kiss that had you reaching for more as he pulled away. He kissed you a little harder and whispered, "I'll be so good to you. Both of you," against your lips. You knew he was telling the truth.

------------------------------

Bradley was trying to stay calm, but it was nearly impossible. You were sitting two seats away from him, eating some nachos and smiling at Everett. Whenever your eyes met his, Bradley sighed in relief. He would ask you to be his girlfriend later tonight after the game. He was completely ready for that. Ready to be around for you and Everett.

"Thanks, Bradley," Ev told him, and Bradley managed to get a napkin under Everett's hot dog before it could drip ketchup on his jersey. "This is probably the best day I've ever had."

It was only the bottom of the first inning, but the Phillies were already leading by one run. The day had been perfect up to this point, but Bradley desperately wanted them to win for Everett. "Probably the best day I've ever had, too, kiddo."

The smile that touched your lips before you bit into a chip had Bradley grinning too. And as the innings wore on and the sun started to set, the stadium lights glowed to life. Everett was sitting on the edge of the seat when the Padres had the bases loaded, and it was all up to the pitcher that had autographed his shirt to save it for the Phillies. Without a word, Everett scrambled onto Bradley's lap to get a better view, and they both held their breath as the pitch count reached three balls and two strikes.

"Come on," Bradley muttered, wrapping his arm around Everett's middle. When the pitcher struck out the batter, Bradley jumped to his feet with Everett, and they cheered with the few other Phillies fans sitting in the section. "Still have the lead!"

You were sitting in Everett's vacant seat when Bradley settled down with Ev on his lap again, and he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. "You boys having fun?" you asked.

"Yep!" Everett said, clapping as the Phillies shortstop walked up to bat.

Bradley leaned in and kissed your cheek, his mustache tickling your ear. "We should do this all the time. At least until he gets to see every team play the Padres."

"And what if he decides he likes a different team better than the Phillies after he sees them all?" you asked, and Bradley scoffed.

"Do we look like fair weather fans?" he asked, gesturing to himself and Everett. "No. That's not going to happen, Kitten."

You laughed and leaned in to kiss him. "You're right. What was I thinking?"

"If the Phillies make it to the playoffs, we'll go to Philadelphia and watch them play and eat cheesesteaks and meet the Phanatic in person," he told you with conviction.

"Yeah, mom," Everett agreed, never taking his eyes off the game. "Because the Phanatic only goes to home games."

"Yeah, Kitten," Bradley echoed. "The Phanatic only goes to home games."

"You're both ridiculous," you said, but your smile was wide as you let your head rest on his shoulder.

---------------------------

You felt a tinge of disappointment as the Padres managed to tie the game in the eight inning. Everett was squirming a bit on Bradley's lap in anticipation, and Bradley had his fingers laced with yours.

"Do you want to switch laps, Ev?" you asked, and both Bradley and Everett replied with a firm No.

But Everett hopped off of Bradley's lap when the inning ended, and it didn't escape your attention that his gaze settled on your joined hands on the armrest. "I'll only be a little bit sad if the Phillies lose, okay? Because I'm having a lot of fun." Then he climbed back on Bradley's lap as you chuckled.

"Me too, kiddo, but wouldn't it be great if the Phillies hit a homerun to win the game?" he asked, straightening out Everett's cap.

"That would be so cool," Everett agreed as a new batter came up to the plate for the Phillies.

You pulled Bradley closer, and he gave you his undivided attention. You kissed his lips softly and said, "I think you're right. I want to do this all the time, too." Bradley's lips curled into a smile as he nodded, so you continued with a smile of your own. "The Padres play the Pirates here on Ev's birthday next month. So maybe we can do this again? I know it would be a late game, since it's during the week, but we could see if Molly and Bob want to come too. It could be really fun. What do you think?"

Bradley let go of your hand and wrapped his warm fingers around your neck, pulling you closer until your hand found his cheek while he kissed you. You moaned softly against his lips, you'd missed him this way so much. Then his nose bumped yours as he released your lips but kept you close to him. "Kitten, I think I love you."

"Look!" Everett shouted, and both you and Bradley turned to see what was going on. The echo of the solidly hit ball was still in the air as Bradley dumped Everett onto your lap and stood. You managed to stumble to your feet with Everett as Bradley jumped and caught the Phillies home run ball with his bare hand while the player rounded the bases to the sound of everyone in your section cheering. Then you watched as Bradley toppled over the armrest and into the aisle with a look of elation mixed with terror on his face.

"He caught it!" Everett cheered, launching himself onto Bradley who was trying to sit up awkwardly on the stairs. But he smiled and hugged Everett, handing him the ball while he clenched and unclenched his hand.

"Are you okay?" you asked, laughing as Bradley stood with Everett hanging onto him.

"Yeah, Kitten," he grunted, kissing your lips while everyone cheered. "Just gonna be a little sore. Damn, my hand hurts," he said, shaking it out again. The three of you were being featured on the big screen as they showed a replay of Bradley jumping up over and over again.

"Dad of the year!" the guy across the aisle shouted to Bradley, and you couldn't stop smiling.

"Thanks, man," Bradley replied with a laugh as he sat down. Everett had Bradley in a headlock as he examined his souvenir baseball with wide eyes.

"Wow," Everett said over and over again. "You're good at catching too, Coach."

"I'll teach you everything I know, kiddo."

"That was insane," you whispered, and Bradley laughed.

"I had to catch it. That was a once in a lifetime ball."

Everett was distracted by the end of the game as you leaned in close and pressed your lips to Bradley's. "I think I love you too, Coach."

------------------------

Bradley hadn't stopped touching you for a single moment. He was a little sore from landing on his ass in the aisle, but he honestly couldn't remember a better day in recent memory. When the game ended in a victory for the Phillies, Everett hugged him tight, but Bradley kept his hand wrapped around yours.

When Everett scrambled onto your lap for a hug, you asked him, "Do you want to come back for your birthday? We haven't seen the Pirates play yet."

"Yeah!" Everett cheered, clearly running on a Phillies high. But by the time the three of you were exiting the ballpark, Bradley scopped Everett up and carried him. All of the excitement of the day seemed to have the kid running on empty all of a sudden. When the three of you finally empied out into the parking lot with the rest of the crowd, Everett was mostly asleep in his arms.

"He's wiped out," Bradley told you with a laugh. You had your hand wrapped around his waist, your fingers rubbing his side, and Bradley couldn't stop grinning.

"All the excitement caught up to him." You took the keys from Bradley's pocket and went ahead to unlock the Bronco and open the back door. Bradley carefully deposited Everett into the booster seat and buckled him in as his eyes opened briefly.

"I'm tired," Everett mumbled, and Bradley laughed as he kissed his forehead. "I know, kiddo. Love you." Then he closed the door and you were reaching for him in the shadows of the parking lot, pressing your body to his and kissing him just like he had become accustomed to. He had missed you so much.

He pushed you up against the back door of the Bronco, and you gasped as he sucked on your neck. Your body felt warm against the chill of the night air, and Bradley's hands found their way up inside your shirt. "Kitten," he moaned below your ear. You had one hand wrapped around his neck, and the other was pressing against the fly of his jeans. You could make him go insane. "Kitten, baby, I can't get enough of you."

"Take us home," you demanded. "And stay with me."

"God, yes," he agreed, and then you were climbing in the driver's door and crawling across the seat.

--------------------------------

Best day ever! Good job, Coach! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 16

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@callsigndiamond

@harper1666

@throwinsauce

@beebslebobs

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@monte-carlando

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@apparently-sunshine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@topgunbb

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@callsign-jupiter

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@andycanbeemotional

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@xoxabs88xox

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster x female reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

theamberfist · 8 months ago

Text

Feeling Faint | Rosie + Reader Headcannons

Familial! Mom! Rosie + Child Reader Headcannons

Description: You are Rosie's adopted child who tends to faint often. Luckily, your mom and the rest of Cannibal Town are always ready to help.

(Notes: CW Alastor, mentions of cannibalism) (gender neutral reader) (Reader is Rosie's adopted child) Happy Mother's Day!!

Words: 1,057

♡ Rosie is very used to handling your fainting spells and, as such, has also made sure the rest of Cannibal Town is equipped to help you if need be

♡ If you can tell you're about to faint you let her know and she immediately jumps into action; appearing very calm on the outside.

♡ But inside she always panics; she's your mom, after all, and she doesn't want you ever getting hurt!

♡ If there's time, she will pull up the nearest chair (if someone was using it they're easily shoved out of the way) and gently take your shoulders, helping you to take a seat in it

♡ If not, she immediately moves from wherever she had been before to catch you before you fall. She's never once failed to catch you.

♡ There was one time Alastor was visiting and you felt a fainting spell coming on so you warned Rosie about it. She had been across the town square at the time but she was as fast as lightning; making it to you long before you even came close to hitting the floor and catching you in her arms.

♡ Even if you can't tell beforehand that you're going to faint, Rosie still somehow manages to catch you every single time if she's around.

♡ She calls it a mother's intuition but you feel like it's more of a psychic power. Either way, she seems to always be able to tell when you start to feel not quite right or are about to faint, which has saved you from many potential concussions due to falling.

♡ There are times where you'll have a fainting spell when she's not around too, which is why she's made sure everyone in Cannibal Town knows how to help you if that happens.

♡ Usually when you have a fainting spell and Rosie isn't around, someone else nearby will notice it and catch you if need be. If you're able to sit down on your own then they'll still come over to make sure you're alright, get you water when you wake up, elevate your legs (what personally helps me come to), etc.

♡ Once whoever is nearby has made sure you're taken care of, they'll either get Rosie themselves, tell somebody else to do it, or (most often) she'll have already somehow sensed what was going on and come to your aid

♡ No matter what she's doing, Rosie will drop everything the moment she knows her child needs her, and moments like these aren't an exception; no matter how common they may be

♡ Even Susan will help you if you happen to have a fainting spell around her and your mom isn't nearby

♡ There was one time you were taking a walk through the Cannibal Colony and passed by her, only to feel one coming on and immediately get seated near a wall before you passed out. Susan noticed it and came over, standing between you and literally anyone else who dared come close

♡ She had her teeth barred and everything; she even took a chunk out of an unfortunate sinner who'd been trying to come over and check on you

♡ Susan may be an ornery old bitch but Rosie is still her leader and she's not going to let her leader's kid get hurt by anyone

♡ Alastor also knows how to help you if needed; after all, he's in Cannibal Town often to visit your mom. And, as her best friend, he takes your wellbeing very seriously

♡ The first time you fainted when Alastor was around, he immediately assumed someone had somehow harmed you and went full demon mode, only for Rosie to come back into the room and assure him it was alright and that this happened often; you just needed a moment

♡ When you woke up after that, your unofficial-uncle decided he was going to learn how to assist you in those situations and made Rosie teach him everything he was supposed to do in every possible scenario

♡ Now he looks just as calm as her when you have a fainting spell near him; using his shadow to make sure you don't get hurt by anything and to fetch whatever you need as he sits nearby until you wake back up

♡ And when you do, he lets you take your time adjusting to your surroundings again. He knows (because Rosie told him) that these spells are not fun

♡ When you seem to have recovered, he'll usually suggest getting you some food or ice cream (vegetarian food, if you prefer) and try to cheer you up a bit. He also makes sure to inform Rosie of what happened every time it does since he knows how she worries

♡ Speaking of worried, Rosie's calm exterior won't drop until you're passed out. Then, she's barking orders at everyone around her the way she was with the megaphone in episode 7

♡ Any nearby cannibals are immediately running about and getting whatever she needs for you so that you'll be as comfortable as possible when you wake up

♡ When you do wake up, she makes everyone else leave to give you some privacy and time to adjust (except your uncle Alastor if he's present; she knows you're comfortable enough around him)

♡ Internally worries the entire time and hugs you as soon as she sees that you're conscious enough again, telling you how mush she loves you and that you're going to be alright

♡ If you don't feel up for continuing whatever you were doing before, she clears the entire rest of the day for you both- no matter what she had going on- to spend time taking care of and being near you

♡ If you insist on continuing with your day as planned before, she will be watching you like a hawk while also trying to make it not super obvious that she's watching you like a hawk

♡ As your mother she just worries and wants to make sure nothing else happens to you again. Rosie can be very protective but it's all out of love so you put up with her fretting over you even when it's not necessary

♡ And plus, it's nice to have someone like your cannibal-overlord-mom taking care of you after all you've been through, so you suppose having her worry whenever you faint isn't the worst that could happen

#hazbin hotel #platonic hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #headcanon #my hcs #rosie #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin rosie #mom rosie #hazbin hotel mom rosie #rosie headcanons #rosie hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel rosie headcannons #rosie x reader #platonic rosie x reader #mom rosie x reader #rosie x child reader #hazbin hotel headcanon

197 notes · View notes

therosebud · 6 months ago

Text

Welcome to Sims 4 Romance Reef Challenge!

——————————————————————————

If you struggle to stay focused on legacy challenges or any grind-heavy tasks, this challenge is perfect for you. The aim here is to create drama and have fun!

This challenge is inspired by the TV show “Love Island” but with a twist and you do not have to have seen Love Island to enjoy this challenge. However, if you're curious, I recommend watching the Australian or UK versions, as they tend to be funnier and more unfiltered than the American one.

Thank you to the EA Creator Network for giving me early access to create content for you.

——————————————————————————

Download the Notion Template on My Patreon

I've created a Patreon for those interested in downloading the Notion template to keep track of all your islanders and progress. Notion is an online organization tool with a Pinterest-like aesthetic. My template provides a layout of the rules and space to detail each Islander. It's not necessary, but it's here if you want it.

For fans of my throwback save file, I will also be re-uploading the save there as it’s more reliable than Sims Share. Thank you for your support over the years on my YouTube channel and other socials. I hope you all enjoy the challenge!

Villa Video Update: If you aren't a builder Don't worry because I will update this post when I upload my speed build of my own villa for you to use. In that video I will also talk about the challenge rules. In the meantime, feel free to build your own or use the gallery to update a villa.

——————————————————————————

Initial Islanders: 4 female Sims and 4 male Sims ready to be placed in the villa. They can have any traits, likes, dislikes, turn-ons, and turn-offs, but no skills to keep it fair.

Bombshells: An extra 2 to 4 female Sims and 2 to 4 male Sims in a separate household. These "bombshells" are ready to join and shake things up when needed. They can have traits, likes, dislikes, turn-ons, and turn-offs, but no skills to keep it fair.

Optional Extra:

💡If you want to be extra, you can register all of them with the labor union and use that space to write out a bio for each Sim, but it isn’t necessary.

💡 If you really want to shake things up you could make each sim have a distinct style. For example, one can be cottagecore, sporty, old money, alternative, beachy, urban, witchy, academia, Barbie, outdoorsy, etc. Here’s a list for ideas.

——————————————————————————

Bedroom: One large bedroom with 4 double beds for couples. (And a couple extra single beds if someone gets left out.)

Bathrooms: Multiple shower and bathroom stalls upstairs and additional bathrooms near the gym and pool.

Upper Balcony: Equipped with sun loungers and couches.

Kitchen and Sitting Area: Spacious kitchen and indoor sitting area.

Sundeck: Features a large couch and firepit for eliminations and coupling ceremonies.

Outdoor Kitchen: Includes a barbecue and large bar area.

Dance Floor: Designated area for dancing.

Gym and Yoga Area: Semi-outdoor/indoor setup for exercise and yoga.

Swimming Pool: Large pool area.

Hot Tub or Onsen: Relaxation area with a hot tub or onsen.

Skill Challenge Room: Empty space like a basement to host skill challenges.

Buffet Tables and Drink Trays: Available for parties and events.

Victor Suite: Locked except when won by a gameplay challenge winner. Includes high-end objects like a computer (the only one in the house), spa massage table, fancy tub, and bed.

Secluded Date Area: Gated area to control access for private dates.

Iconic Pathway: Long pathway for eviction ceremonies.

Extras: Poohoo bush, closets, woohoo blankets, and optionally a photo booth for added fun.

——————————————————————————

You don’t have to play with mods, these are my recommendations.

UI Cheats: Allows you to view exact relationship points by clicking the "set relationship" button under each sim's romantic relationships.

First Impressions Mod: Provides detailed explanations of sims' initial impressions.

——————————————————————————

Weather Settings: Turn off rain, thunderstorms, snow, and blizzards in the game menu. Set seasons to the longest possible duration. Start the game in summer for a Love Island vibe.

Aging: Pause aging to preserve the contestants' ages for post-challenge play.

Free Will: Keep free will turned on to allow sims autonomy in their actions. Micro-manage only for needs; let them pretty much choose their interactions, friendships, and rivalries. The exception of the rule is if you are trying to get everyone in one area to start a gameplay challenge. But make sure you turn it back on after everyone is on their gameplay station. I recommend giving them a few hours to complete the challenge depending on what it is of course. Keep track of the order of who finishes (or stopped) the quickest.

World's: I recommend playing in Sulani or Tartosa for this challenge but the new world Ciudad Emamorada would work too (beware the villa would have to be smaller in that world though.) However, feel free to do this in any world you want but it’s best to play it in the summer season.

——————————————————————————

Utilize the in-game calendar system to structure your Love Island challenge. Each round typically spans 4-7 days, depending on your desired pace. Here are the key daily events to plan for:

Private Date Day: Select two or three couples to enjoy a private date in a special area of the villa or off-lot.

Gameplay Challenge Day: Determine the strongest and weakest islanders through skill challenges or quality assessments. The islander with the lowest quality item or skill percentage within a time limit of around 2- 4 in game hours, will risk elimination if they lack significant relationships.

Chaos Spin Day: Introduce random events to stir up drama and unpredictability among the contestants.

Coupling and Elimination Day: Held in the evening on the last day of each round. Contestants dress in formal or party wear for the ceremony. After the first elimination, the gender with numerical advantage chooses their partner first. Those without partners face elimination. Re-coupling may occur if islanders form closer bonds during the round.

"Bombshells": Introduce 4-8 additional sims (evenly split by gender) sporadically in each round to shake up dynamics. Morning of the date day in each round is ideal for their arrival, allowing them to participate in that day’s events.

——————————————————————————

On the first day, your goal is to have everyone meet and interact in the villa. Here’s how to get started:

Equal Numbers: Begin with an even number of males and females to form 4 couples in total.

Numbering Sims: Number each sim from 1-8 for easy reference during wheel spins.

Lovestruck Expansion: If you have the Lovestruck expansion, observe the sentiments and dynamics as the islanders interact. Pair up those with stronger connections.

Initial Dates: Start the day with a few different dates. Roll for the number of current islanders to determine who goes on dates. If a new islander or “bombshell” is entering, they will get the date. Choose their date based on sentiments, attraction, and relationship levels.

Natural Relationships: Let relationships develop naturally. Avoid interfering, but you can offer slight encouragement if you notice two sims flirting. The challenge’s fun lies in the organic unfolding of relationships.

⭐️ Keep the first day focused on introductions and initial connections to set the stage for the rest of the challenge!

——————————————————————————

Setting Up Private Dates

Use a number roller from 1-8 (or the current number of islanders). The chosen number gets to pick their date based on:

- Attraction system

- In-game sentiments/dynamics

- First interaction

Date Execution:

Unlock the gate for the couple to access the private date area, or teleport them in.

Bombshells:

When a new bombshell arrives, they get 1-2 dates to decide who they want to couple up with.

Limit the total number of dates to 3 per day. For example, a bombshell can have up to two dates, and you can still have one date among current islanders.

——————————————————————————

Suggested Skills for Challenges:

- Candle Making

- Cooking

- Painting

- Cross Stitching

- Gemology

- Knitting

- Woodworking

- Flower Arranging

- Media Production

- Mixology

- Nectar Making

- Fitness

- Yoga

- Rock Climbing

- Fishing

- Guitar

- Violin

- Pipe organ

- Juice fizzing

Here’s a list to spin for skill competitions

Challenge Outcomes:

- Winner: The islander with the best quality item, highest skill, timed score (depending on the skill chosen or combo of those) wins a night in the victor suite. They can invite their partner or someone else for added drama. If an unpartnered sim wins, they get a chance to invite someone and potentially steal a partner.

- Loser: The islander with the lowest quality item or skill point is at risk of leaving if they don't form significant relationships by the coupling ceremony. If it comes down to two sims, the one who lost the challenge leaves.

Tips:

☑️ Place skill-related items around the house or in a special skill room to allow sims to use them autonomously. This ensures fairness when spinning for the next challenge.

☑️ Don’t force sims to gain skills; let them choose to do so on their own. Any skill points they gain is all fair game for when it’s time for a gameplay challenge.

——————————————————————————

This day is just to keep you on your toes. The randomness will make your experience more customized and help you determine who is good with whom. I numbered these so you can use a number randomizer to determine which one you get for today.

⭐️ You do not have to read all 45 of them right now if you don’t want to. You may skip to the elimination section.

1. Use a number randomizer to determine which girls are getting into a fight today.

2. Use a number randomizer to determine which boys are going to fight today.

3. The couple with the lowest romance is fighting today.

4. The couple with the highest romance is fighting today.

5. Someone in the couple with the lowest romance is getting cheated on today.

6. Someone in the couple with the highest romance is getting cheated on today.

7. An old villager comes back for a day to cause some drama among a couple.

8. Get some activity tables; we’re doing a group puzzle.

9. Everyone gets on the yoga mats for a yoga class.

10. Throw a party of your choice; this can include villagers who have been voted out.

11. An islander of choice must get close with another islander outside their couple.

12. A massage therapist is hired for everyone today.

13. We get a slip and slide for today.

14. We get a couple of bowling alleys for today.

15. Tanning and beach combing day (if you are in Sulani or Tartosa).

16. Use a number randomizer (1-8) to give a sim 1+ skill points for free to use in the next challenge day.

17. Use a randomizer to determine who’s being messy today and woohooing with two different sims.

18. A couple of choice gets a date alone today; a couple with the lowest romance gets a chance to work on their relationship via a date alone.

19. A couple with the highest romance gets a date alone today.

20. Everyone plays a game of basketball.

21. Everyone has to skill up one point, but they each have to do a different skill from one another (and, of course, skills used for competitions).

22. The losers and winners of the last gameplay challenge day go head-to-head in a redo of the competition.

23. A new bromance occurs today.

24. It’s just me and the girls. Two girls get to be friends today.

25. A friendship occurs between a male and female who aren’t attracted to each other.

26. Everyone makes a friendship bracelet.

27. Throw a house party.

28. Throw a dance party.

29. Throw a pool party.

30. A sudden death occurs. You must kill off a sim; roll from 1-8 to determine who dies.

31. An engagement?! Roll 1-8 to see who’s getting engaged with their current coupled-up partner.

32. Tanning! Everyone just works on their tan today. (Maybe an enemy sabotages someone’s tan.)

33. Get a photo studio; let’s take some pictures for the house.

34. Everyone plays a card game.

35. We take everyone to another lot.

36. Take all of the girls to another lot.

37. Take all of the boys to another lot.

38. A double elimination occurs. The two people with the lowest gameplay challenge score go home.

39. They’re back! A female player that was voted out comes back for the next round.

40. They’re back! A male player that was voted out comes back for the next round.

41. Drama! Three islanders go on a date together in hopes of two coupling up.

42. Use the woohoo blanket.

43. Everyone plays darts or foosball.

44. Use a number randomizer to determine who’s getting a secret lover on Cupid’s corner outside of the household.

45. Throw a costume party and have everyone wear a random outfit from the costume trunk.

——————————————————————————

The first elimination is based purely on the islander who loses the initial challenge, because not everyone might of made a romantic connection yet.

All other eliminations will be based on who has the lowest relationship(s) and ranking in gameplay challenge.

Set up challenge stations in a large room, like a basement.

Randomize the gameplay challenges for a fun and unpredictable experience. Choose skills that produce items with a quality rating or judge by the highest skill points achieved in a set time.

——————————————————————————

Observing Interactions:

Pay attention to Sims naturally interacting, especially if they're already coupled but start talking or flirting with others.

If two Sims start being flirty around each other alone often, you can nudge the relationship by having them flirt once or twice to see if they will keep it going.

Recoupling:

A Sim might choose to recouple if their bond with another Sim grows stronger.

In a love triangle, the Sim that has the least connections (romantic and friend wise) and ranked the lowest among in the gameplay challenges, is the one that will be eliminated.

——————————————————————————

Let Cheating Happen: If a Sim cheats, let it play out naturally. Don't intervene in saving Sims if they die; it's part of the challenge. Butlers or maids can be hired to manage the cleaning.

No Careers at the start: None of the Sims should have a career initially. However, you can write them a bio if desired.

Adapt as Needed: If you don’t have a certain pack for a skill or activity, replace it with something you do have.

Managing Needs: Assign a bedtime to ensure needs are met. In the morning, control them to shower and eat. The first Sim up makes breakfast unless you have a hired butler or maid.

Encourage Flirting: It's okay to make Sims flirt or chat generally whenever you like, but for new romances, only initiate flirting once or twice to get things started. Do this only if you notice Sims getting flirty around each other often, as Sims usually won't start a romance autonomously without a mod. After that, don't intervene. If the romance doesn't progress, it wasn't meant to be. Follow their social cues and wants to let you know who they like.

Unlimited Funds: This challenge isn’t about money, so feel free to use the "rosebud" cheat as much as you like. 😉

Rewards: The winners could win the villa and you can renovate it in their style. Alternatively, use them in another challenge.

Questions and Feedback: If you need any clarifications, feel free to ask. If you try out this challenge, tag me! Use the #ts4romanticreef

Sul sul! 🌹

YouTube, Pateron and other socials

126 notes · View notes

swastikprofessionals · 7 months ago

Text

Bar Equipment Manufacturer in Delhi

Swastik Professionals, a leading Bar Equipment Manufacturer in Delhi, excels in providing top-quality solutions for all your bar needs. Our extensive range includes state-of-the-art refrigerators, ice machines, cocktail stations, and more. Each product is crafted with precision to enhance efficiency and aesthetics. As a trusted name in the industry, we prioritize durability and innovation, ensuring your bar operations run smoothly. Choose Swastik Professionals for reliable, high-performance bar equipment in Delhi.

#bar equipment manufacturers #bar equipment near me #bar equipment store near me #bar equipment design #tumblr trends

1 note · View note

neysaadept · 2 months ago

Text

Prometheus Chapter 7

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 7 - Excision Part One (Criminal Minds Case Time)

Tags: Limited use of y/n but established last name. Swearing, mentions of the pandemic and human and sex trafficking. Canon typical violence. Sexual innuendos. Drinking. Smoking. Slow Burn. Murder. Depictions of Flaying. Implied Rape. Mentions of Date Rape Drugs. Strangulation. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 4.4k

AO3

Chapter 6

Saturday night was supposed to be drinks with Tara and Rebecca as planned until Penelope heard about it. Then it evolved into you and Rebecca having your first BAU ladies’ night at the Fireside Lounge, the local bar the unit enjoyed socializing at. You were finding ways to politely say no at the end of the workday because the group was now too big for your comfort level. Getting to know one new person at a time was you’re your sweet spot, but now it was four. And were doomed to accept because Penelope’s pouting pulled too hard at your heart strings to further deny her.

Thankfully, two cases came in that Garcia’s law enforcement surveillance had flagged as interests. Though, it really wasn’t with gratitude that you felt having victims which cancelled the event. It was just a postponement. There was no way that Garcia was going to let you off the hook for drinking, dancing, and gossiping – as she had put it. At least this gives you time to formulate some excuses that can stick so Garcia isn’t too disappointed.

It was a problem for another time. The team arrived at Quantico Saturday afternoon and were briefed on the cases. One was in Germantown, MD where there was a break in. Two men with distorted faces had triggered the alarms to kidnap the security guard. They beat up and executed him on live feed while the homeowners watched. It’s quite possible the equipment and makeup they are using are from a Sicarius kill kit as the town is about ten miles away from Rockville, MD.

The other case comes in from Thermal, CA where a body was found at a plant nursery under shrubbery. The victim was male and strangulated to death. But that wasn’t what caught the BAU’s attention. It was a fact that the victim’s face had been precisely cut off and lain atop his chest. There was no blood at the crime scene either. The unsub appeared to be ritualistic in how they displayed the body per first impression with local law enforcement. The tools for this type of kill could also be one of Sicarius’ followers as Thermal, CA was about nine miles away from Indio, CA.

Prentiss split the team. JJ, Alvaz, and Lewis would remain in town and drive up to Germantown to investigate. She kept JJ close to home on purpose to be near her family. That meant Prentiss would take you and Rossi to California by jet. The trio remaining behind were so jealous that they all balled up paper sheets and threw them at you, making you laugh as you tried to dodge and bat them away.

Rossi was kind enough to remind the team that if not for you, there might not be a jet to use.

And that was where you were right now, being briefed in the air enroute to Jacqueline Cochran Regional Airport, right in Thermal. The local sheriff department secured a landing area for the private jet and would meet the unit there.

The three of you sat together on the four seaters – you were next to Rossi and had the window seat. Prentiss was across from you as Garcia spoke over face time. You hope you hide your excitement well since you were being trusted enough to be in the field. You brought a different kind of experience to the unit and understood there was a lot you could learn from Rossi and Prentiss.

“Since this place is in Bufu, California, they’re taking their sweet time sending me over the files. But I’ve gotten preliminary pictures from forensics.” Garcia shares her screen displaying the wounds of the neck and face. “For the record, I am NOT looking at this. La, la, la, la, la! This is all for your desensitized eyes! And I’m assuming your eyes are made that way too my CIA Cutie?”

“Unfortunately,” you answer, zooming in on the strangulation marks around the victim’s neck by garrote. The line was too thick to be wire or some sort of line. The pattern was uneven and did not cut into the flesh, just left a lot of yellow and purple bruising.

“Meet Cole McGarth, 24, who until recently, was a paralegal for a probate attorney near … oh, ho! Indio, CA!”

“Well, isn’t that interesting,” muses Rossi. “But it could be coincidence.”

You play around with the touchscreen some more and point out the marks on Cole’s wrists and above the ankles. “Looks like he was bound.”

“Indeed, he was per initial report,” Garcia says in confirmation. “Coroner is doing the work up as we speak. Or fly, in your guys’ case.”

“Any idea how the unsub removed the victim’s face?” asks Prentiss.

“Yes! Definitely meticulously excised but not sure what tool was used yet. It wasn’t sloppy work.”

“Probably not a disgruntled client then. This wasn’t done in anger, or in a fit of rage,” says Rossi.

You flip through files on the table and hum in agreement. “Too precise. Need a steady hand with how the unsub removed the skin.”

With a grimace, you look at McGarth’s eyeless face resting on his body and wonder, what did this guy do to deserve this?

“What we’re seeing here is a killer that knows what they’re doing,” adds Prentiss. “This isn’t new to the unsub.”

“You think there’s more bodies out there we don’t know about?” you ask, trying to understand Prentiss’ logic.

“Maybe. Just, this is too good. No one gets this good on the first try. Hey Garcia?” Prentiss looks to the screen to address her. “Check to see if there’s any cases that are similar to this one.”

“Will do! Anything else?”

“Any other prelim findings, send our way, but I’ve a feeling we won’t know more until we land with how slow local law enforcement’s processing this.”

“They have a major crimes unit, but this is far above their means,” explains Rossi. “They’d be calling us in eventually to assist.”

“Turtles run faster, yes,” Garcia confirms. “Oh! JJ is requesting my divine presence. I’ll keep you all up to speed on the home team, too. Tootles!”

Her face blinks out and you keep looking between the file in front of you and on the screen, not realizing Prentiss and Rossi were looking at you. Then they share a look that you were unaware of, eyes focusing with brows raising and motioning toward you with a slight shake of Prentiss’ head. They were wordlessly debating if they should chit chat with you.

Rossi shrugs. “So, Whitlock, what do you do for fun?” he asks suddenly as you look up with confusion.

“Uh …” Your brows pinch and you gesture to the files. “You don’t wanna talk about this?”

He chuckles. “We always talk about the case, but we talk about other things too. Besides, you owe me a conversation.”

You look lost, like a puppy with its head tilted trying to understand what was going to happen next. Prentiss thought it cute and made sure to down some water to hide it.

“About my work with the Gideons?” he supplies.

You lean back in the seat and smack your forehead. “Right. Yeah. Sorry! Been a hectic week and totally forgot about that.” You lower your hand and look at Prentiss. “Evil woman there’s working me hard.”

“Hey!” Prentiss sets the water bottle down with offense. “I am not evil.”

“The paperwork that you gave me is. Since you supplied the paper, it is your fault. Ergo evil paper, evil you.”

“That is the lamest logical argument I’ve heard in some time, Whitlock.”

You both then share a laugh as Rossi watches the banter curiously. He was very glad to see the two of you were finally getting along. “Well, to be fair, she did provide a valid argument. Won’t hold up in a court of her peers, but it is valid.” He smiles as Emily gives him a withering look. “But anyway, back to my question. What do you do for fun?

You close the file and set it aside as you consider this very difficult question. Rossi sees the hesitation and prods further. “Is it really that hard to answer?”

Grimacing, you nod and gesture around the jet. “Considering this my first vacation from work in, fuck, I don’t know how long?” You set your hand down and sigh. “Yeah.”

Emily thinks back on her career and yes, there were times that the ability to take a vacation dried up due to assignments, but she had vacations time – willingly and mandated by her superiors. “That doesn’t sound right.” But she knew you were serious by the solemn expression on your face, especially those exhausted eyes that had seen very little of the pleasures life could hold.

You really never take time off, do you? Prentiss thinks as she slowly begins to understand you. What are you running from that you don’t want downtime?

You shrug, offering that as answer. On the surface, you could be seen as a workaholic with no ties to anyone. Rossi picks up on that. “So, no special someone?”

You shake your head no.

“Kids?”

You laugh a little too hard. “No.”

“Family?”

Your eyes narrow briefly, the only indication that this question heightens your irritation which Emily spots. “I think that’s enough for now, Dave.”

Rossi holds up a hand apologetically. “Sorry, kid. Been awhile since we had someone new and got carried away.”

You nod as he gently squeezes your shoulder. Your eyes soften at Prentiss with thanks, but you start to worry. The section chief’s brown eyes turn mischievous. You frown as she grins. “Besides, I’m sure Penelope will continue the interrogation later.”

Rossi pulls his hand away. “Why’s that?”

“Girls’ night was cancelled. I’m sure when we have a free night, she’ll rectify that.”

You groan. “Please start finding another case right now.”

Rossi laughs. “Good luck trying to dodge her curiosity. Penelope’s tenacious. But also, sweet and easy to talk with.”

And that’s what you’re afraid of. Brian, too.

At least Rossi decided to shift gears to discuss his work with Jason and Jill Gideon. He found it precious you were taking notes …

The three of you eventually part ways for the rest of the flight to decompress until you land. As you disembark the jet, you slip on your sunglasses to stave off the bright sun and look at the one hangar that had a FedEx plane docked to be unloaded. The rest were small propellor plans that were used for lessons or crop dusting.

Wow, you think, not seeing anything like this on U.S. soil since… ever? Yeah, overseas a ton, but here? Never.

Waiting for the team at the end of the tarmac was a squad car and an SUV, with two officers waiting for you. One is a skinny fellow with a buzz cut that stood close to the other, looking restless as he paces. The other officer looks back and says something, making him stop.

As the three of you approach, the one seemingly in charge greets you with a curt nod. He wore thick glasses, dark hair kept neat and trimmed and carried a stocky build. “Chief Prentiss?” Emily nods. “I’m Captain Michael Robles and this is Deputy Aiden Miller.”

“This is Senior Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi and Special Agent Y/N Whitlock.” Both you and Dave nod as Emily introduces you. “Any updates on the investigation?” Garcia hadn’t received anything from Thermal or found any similar crimes thus far.

“Unfortunately, yeah. Another body turned up. Found in some bushes off of 62nd when a trucker pulled to the side to relieve himself.” He shook his head. “Poor bastard saw the arm hanging out. Thought it was a ringtail. Wasn’t expecting a dead body.”

“We have an ID on the victim?” Rossi asks.

Yeah,” says Miller. “His name’s Lee Sullivan. Head shrink out of Palm Desert. Both vics are with the Sheriff now and said we’re to bring y’all to him.”

“Oh, so he’s with the coroner?” you ask.

Robles chuckles. “The sheriff’s the coroner, too.”

Your eyes widen much to Prentiss’ amusement. “Welcome to small town Americana.”

To save time, Rossi went with Deputy Miller to speak with McGarth’s family and glean more information about last known locations and any potential individuals that may want to hurt him. All three of you found the initial interview lacking with local law enforcement because they didn’t want to push the grieving family too hard. While there is a need for compassion, time is precious and wasting it with no leads could get someone else killed. Look at Sullivan.

You and Prentiss went to see Sheriff Alex Grosch at the station. Yes, you were surprised that the sheriff’s station and the medical exam office were in the same location. Usually, they were separated to avoid any tampering or misuse of evidence that could impede an investigation. But since you had one guy playing M.E.* and cop? Sure! Why not have everything located in one place to make their job easier?

Sheriff Grosch was already grown and gloved by the bodies as you entered. His hair was covered with a cap, glasses secured around his head with a strap. Next to him was a tray of tools, some used, some sterile. Right now, he was taking notes. You were thankful he took off his gloves before doing that. Ew…

The room was far more cramped than you’d expect it to be, only have room for three examination tables, which were position directly in front of freezer lockers. One wall had supplies and equipment for examination on shelves and cabinets that were stuffed so much that they were slightly ajar. There were boxes of various sizes stacked against the wall haphazardly and leaning against that were various shipping boxes and envelopes in various states to be mailed out. There was a half open door with a glass panel on top that led to what was presumably Grosch’s office.

The place was chaos and probably violated many OSHA’ laws.

He took a break from scribbling and looks at you both. “Agents.”

“She’s a chief,” you quickly correct, pointing to Prentiss. Then to yourself. “I’m the agent. Special Agent actually.”

His slate blue eyes narrow. “Sure.”

You didn’t like this self-righteous fuck at all. His tone drips with condemnation and you felt it was more than just the correction of Prentiss’ title.

Sensing that this could go bad quickly, Prentiss jumps into facts. It was the best equalizer. “Catch us up.”

He sets down the clipboard and offers gloves to both of you. “Nothing new. Second vic died the same. Strangulation.” You and Prentiss put on examination gloves as he does too. “Has the same mark around the neck.”

Both you and Prentiss move around the table to get a good look at the second victim. “Yeah. Matches the pictures,” you confirm as Prentiss looks at the wrists and feet.

“And the same signs of being bound. Same indentations, too. Whatever it is,” she says, squinting, “hard to make out.”

Now being up close with the body, it looked like a two-inch strap was used by how the indentation looks, but then it becomes not as deep as you look away from the point of contact. You gently stroke your finger along the victim’s wrist and find it not to be smooth but prickly. There were several smaller lines that dug into the skin as you roll the limb back and forth. “Yeah. This could be anything right now.”

But something in the back of your mind knew what this was, just out of reach. Right on the tip of your tongue. “Any other signs of trauma?”

“Nah. Just like the first,” confirms the sheriff.

Prentiss’ eyes slide up to the covered face of Sullivan. Without hesitation, she pulls back the sheet as the sheriff holds up his hand. “I really don’t think you need to see that. It’s pretty gruesome.”

She squints her face with the same parental that you recognize immediately. It was the same one she gave you when you were acting petulant in her office when you first met. She looks absolutely commanding with the etched scorn set on her face. “I’ll be the judge of that.” She looks at you and gestures over with her head to join you.

You take position on the opposite side and with a shared look, reveal Sullivan’s head. You both went immediately into silent investigation mode and compartmentalize what you feel. You both saw enough throughout your respective careers to get the job done, which caught the sheriff by surprise as there wasn’t even a gasp or flinch from either of you.

The unsub left a terrible work of art. They had removed the entire layer of skin leaving the muscles visible and unharmed, same with the eyes. You saw the entire glazed over orb staring right back at you. That should have been unsettling enough, but this isn’t the worse thing you’ve seen. As you look further down the face, the incisions were a clean angular pattern. A skilled hand as you thought.

With her free hand, Prentiss traces the cuts above the face. “Cauterized the wounds as they cut.”

You nod in agreement. “Yeah. Either skilled with both hands or ambidextrous.”

“Especially being able to remove the skin in one piece.”

“And there’s no trauma to muscle. They wanted the victims to be preserved like this.”

Prentiss bunches up her lips in thought and motions to cover the victim, which you did. She turns to address Grosch. “Have you identified what tools were used with the excision?”

“Nothing specific but definitely the high-grade surgical kind. I did figure based on the timeline of the excision and the strangulation, the vics loss their face before they were killed,” he admits soberly.

“The victim was alive?” Prentiss was shocked. Nothing indicated that there was a struggle, or the victim fought back while being flayed. The team had presumed the face was removed postmortem.

You were thinking it too. “That doesn’t add up. The bodies have nothing to indicate they tried to fight off their attacker. Fingernails and hands have no trauma.” You pull the second victim’s hand up and show there was no blood or skin under the fingernails. No bruising of the hands or knuckles.

The sheriff nods. “It’s like that with the other one, too.”

“And the unsub had time to complete their objective, without interruption,” explains Prentiss. “Was there a tox screen done?”

“Yeah. Just waiting on lab to send over the results. Should be ready any time now.”

“Make sure we get that ASAP so we can discuss and add to our profile.”

He mutters a non-committal, ‘Uh huh.’, as you and Prentiss take off your gloves to throw out and leave the exam room.

As the door closes behind you, you huff out a harsh breath of air. “What an asshole.”

Prentiss smiles. “Even if he somehow forgets to send the information over, Garcia’s already on it.” She chuckles at your look of surprise. “This isn’t the first time some male ego may try and cock block the ladies of the BAU.”

Now you snort laugh. “Yeah, I’ve dealt with it, too.”

You both enter the bullpen and head straight for the coffee. This shithole town didn’t have French Vanilla, so you were stuck with boring old creamer. Prentiss at least got her Splenda.

“The unsub had to have known our vics. Or at least caught them off guard. It doesn’t make any sense at all that our victims wouldn’t have tried to fight back - when they were taken, flayed, or even during the strangulation. Nothing,” muses Prentiss before she takes a sip of her coffee. She makes a face at how bitter it was and stirs in another packet.

“Yeah, there’s nothing substantial on those bodies to indicate anything. And the unsub didn’t take anything off the victims as far as we’re able to determine. Except their dignity, I suppose.” You lean against the counter and look at the snail’s pace of a station working. No one appears to be in a hurry. Like everything was business as usual and the only signs that something was amiss was the FBI presence. There was quiet chatter in the bullpen and eyes directed towards the two of you. Whether it was curiosity or genuine need to solve the case, who knew?

That got you thinking.

“One’s face is the first thing you really see. Physically, I mean. So why did the unsub want to remove it?”

“Stress and depression are psychological concerns that can trigger dermatological issues – even somatically perceived ones. Feeling like your skin is crawling. Pins and needles across the skin. So much so, someone might want to tear your skin off. So, to speak.”

“And medically, you’re looking at pain and hives. Psoriasis and eczema. A shit ton, actually.” You consider it but shrug. “None of our victims have it. Open for debate on our unsub. But …” you look to Prentiss, “there is something to be said about feeling like you want to crawl out one’s skin. Maybe there is a deeply rooted emotional need to remove someone’s face so the unsub can have a cathartic release of emotions they can’t normally feel?’

Prentiss raises a brow in consideration. “Not a bad theory.”

“There’s also the fun thought of a face mask. I mean, I’m not talking exfoliation, but we hide our true selves behind layers of walls we build up. It all depends on how we grow up. Who we have contact with. Family, friends, lovers, co-workers. The interconnections we pull from that we use to define ourselves, or equally knowing when to open up. Everything we’ve experienced creates the persona we want people to see. It’s all based on threat and trust.” You pause as you work your jaw in thought and come to a different conclusion. “What if the unsub’s flaying is symbolic. Removing a layer of that mask from the victim?”

She raises the other brow, impressed with your knowledge and focus. Yeah, your humor edges through a little but it’s a blip in the conversation. You had a work ethic that hadn’t been able to be appreciated since she had sidelined you on day one. Out in the field, you are able to shine and show how intelligent you are. You ask all the right questions and didn’t discount anything too small or too big. You home in on small details and carry the conversation without any prompting form her. It was a natural flow of ideas between the two of you. Regardless of what it is you actually do for the CIA, it clearly meshes up well with profiling with the BAU. And if she was honest, your style was meshing with her, too.

But what really bothers her with what you said is that she knows you were speaking from experience. You spoke with too much familiarity about walls being built for protection. Couple that with being dismissive of any personal connections in your life that Dave tried to ask about, Prentiss couldn’t help wonder how long have you lived such a lonely life…

Right then, Prentiss’ phone rings and she accepts it, putting it in on speaker so you can hear. “Tell me you got something, Dave.”

“I do. Last known whereabouts of our victim was at a bar called Coachella.”

You make the face. “What? Like the music festival?’

“Exactly. The festival’s in Indio. Bar’s named after it.”

“Did the family give any indication as to why he was there?” asks Prentiss.

“No. Just went for drinks after the long work week to wind down. McGarth texted his sister before he went over. Sometimes he does try for a hook up, but I’m doubting his situation had to do with anything like that.”

“You’re not kidding. Anything else? Trouble with any family, friends? Anything at work?”

“Nothing yet. I’m heading to his work now to speak with his boss. Maybe we’ll get something there. After that, I’m following up on Sullivan’s family. How are things on your end?”

“Not much that we didn’t already know, but Whitlock has a couple of good theories about our unsub. Either flaying for the emotional release or removing an emotional wall the victim has built up.”

There was a pause as you hold your breath and wonder what Rossi would think. “Not bad, Whitlock.”

You exhale slowly and preen with pride. “Thanks.”

“Anything else?”

“Nah. Waiting on labs. Until then, we’re just throwing ideas around for the profile.”

“Then I leave you ladies to it. Talk later.”

The sheriff comes jogging into the bullpen a few minutes after you both hang up with Dave, flagging you down with paperwork in hand. “Report’s just came in off the first victim.”

You speak quietly behind your coffee cup so only Prentiss can hear. “Who knew snails could run?”

She fights a laugh, neck straining as her lips contort to squash away any visible humor. “What do the reports say?” Prentiss impresses you with her ability to go pro so fast.

“Couple things of note. Got flunitrazepam and midazolam in the system.” He turns the pages towards the two of you and you take it.

“Flunitrazepam?” Your confusion was palpable as you see it written plainly on the report. “That’s one of the date rape drugs.”

“And midazolam’s a sedative,” states Prentiss. She’s baffled, too. “You said there’s no indication of assault, but did you examine for one sexual in nature?”

Grosch frowns deeply and his eyes lack focus. You were quite happy to answer for him. “I’m gonna go with a no there, chief.”

He clears his throat. “With, ah, no signs of struggle, I didn’t see a reason to.”

“Well, you do now. Make sure you check both victims.” He nods and heads out as Prentiss sets aside her shitty coffee. “Honestly not his fault. He really had no reason to assess for it until now.”

“Yeah, but it was nice seeing him freak out for a sec there,” you say with a smile that fades thoughtfully. “Case keeps getting weirder, huh?”

“Oh, honey,” Prentiss smirks wistfully, “this is nothing but another day in the BAU ...”

… to be continued in Excision Part Two.

*Medical Examiner

*Occupational Safety and Health Administration

Chapter 8

@unkonw00 @ara-a-bird @rayisaknight @sevyscoven

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #criminal minds evolution #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x female reader #emily x reader #emily x you #prometheus

60 notes · View notes

kamotecue · 1 year ago

Text

her drunken mistake ✮ l. walti

pairing: lia walti x fem!reader

summary: it’s been a while since you transferred to chelsea, what happens if you meet a certain swiss player at an english pub?

part one, two and three

ever since you signed for chelsea, things have been going great. you weren’t a starter like everyone expected you to be, which you were okay with—but you did get the playing time, as a sub.

and when you went on the pitch, the game had changed. there wasn’t a game where you didn’t score a goal, or assisted one. but you hummed, entering the english pub, music and dancing had filled the room.

your eyes scouted the place, checking if there is anyone who recognized you. but there wasn’t thankfully, you made your way across the room to the bar, ordering yourself a bourbon.

the bartender gave you a flirty smile, as she handed you the drink. you returned it with a polite smile, as you carefully took a sip of the drink, the liquor gave you this pleasant but burning sensation in your throat.

“it’s the first time, i’ve seen you in this pub.” the bartender said, giving you a shy smile as you hummed.

“i’m not much of a drinker.” you replied, the thick spanish accent was heard—as she chuckled at your words, making you a little bit confused. was there something funny that made her laugh?

“you’re not from here, so family or work?” your eyes wandered around, looking at the difference pictures, bottles and basically the overall design of the place.

“work, i believe.” a hum was heard as the bartender introduced herself, her hand was held out—waiting for you to accept it.

“i’m eloise, and you are?” you held her hand, shaking it before letting go.

“i’m y/n.” you softly said, an hour had passed and you still gave a short response much to elosie’s amusement. in her eyes, it was cute on how shy you were, but you were completely oblivious.

your attention was diverted as you felt someone stumble into you, their filled drink was now empty as you felt your shirt get soaked.

“lia?” you asked, as the swiss player landed on top of you, you secured your arms around her waist making sure she wouldn’t fall on the ground, or hurt her head.

“are you here alone?” you asked out of the blue, scanning the room to see if she came with her teammates but you didn’t see any.

“alright, there?” eloise asked, as you hummed.

“i’m afraid i need to go.” eloise gave you a nod before writing down something on a piece of paper, as she ripped it giving you—it revealed her number.

“call me, will you.” you gave her a nod, before slowly standing up. you carried her bridal style, as you made your way out of the pub.

carefully placing her in the passenger’s seat, you reached over to put on her seat belt, taking note of how close her breathe was near your neck.

the faint click made you move back, as you analyzed her face—her lips were in a frown as you chuckled at how cute she looked—but your eyes were widened as she lurched forward, her vomit quickly staining your shirt and neck.

a wince escaped your mouth as you should’ve expected it. you weren’t mad really, but you only worried about the mess—considering you have practice tomorrow.

you had entered the passenger seat, deciding that you would deal with this when everything was sorted out. the drive to your apartment wasn’t that long, you carefully made your way up, the swiss player in your arms as you slowly kicked the door open.

the apartment was a mess, the boxes were still unpacked—you only prioritized your bedroom, the kitchen equipment, and the couch.

“you’ll be sleeping in my room for tonight.” you muttered underneath your breath, not wanting her to be uncomfortable. gently placing her on the bed, you pulled the soft blanket over her, preventing her from being cold throughout the night.

you stepped back before analyzing your room, above the headrest only two jerseys had been framed—your sister’s and someone you look up to.

“i need a shower, and to clean the mess.” you swiped a pair of clothes from your closet, heading to the spare shower—trying to not wake your guest up.

you hummed a song, as you removed your hearing aids—stripping off the clothes before stepping in the shower.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso series #arsenal wfc imagine #lia walti #lia walti x reader #lia walti imagine

367 notes · View notes

captain-bubble-wrap · 22 days ago

Text

Intemporelle; timeless

Paring: Quinn Hughes | OC Female (Older)

Chapter: 1 of ? | A Chance Meeting

WC: 5,825

Genre: Romance/Fluff

Warnings: Alcohol use, swearing, mentioned depressive thoughts, guilt/shame, embarrassment

Summary: Off-season wedding within the Canucks' organization. Quinn is drunk when he's introduced to a friend of the bride and groom. Things take a turn when he gets sick and requires being tucked into bed.

Big thank you to @insidious-apple for letting me gush about my silly ideas and spamming you with updates.

White flowers fell in cascaded archways over top of every doorway in the chateau's ballroom. No expense had been spared on the wedding, now in full swing, that evening. Guests had been arriving the last three days to the Fairmont Chateau to enjoy the luxuries afforded by their hosts. No matter where you looked, luxe decorations reminded you of the scope of the affair.

By now, the reception had gone late into the beginning hours of the morning. Parents, grand-parents, aunts, and uncles had all said their goodbyes hours before, leaving the younger generations to continue the festivities. Shoes had been abandoned, empty glasses, and plates of cake littered several tables, their respective owners all mingling on the dance floor or in their rooms entirely.

Madeline Ramsey, best friend of the bride, had gotten to the resort just that morning. Work as a dress consultant in one of Vancouver's high-end bridal stores had kept her away from joining the rest of the bridal party's celebrations and had made her feel like she was playing catch-up ever since the ceremony. She was tall, curvy; a deep brunette with striking sage green eyes. She had just turned thirty-four two months prior in June; becoming now the last of all of her girlfriends to tie the knot. Years before, she was so consumed by the fact that she wasn't even in a relationship let alone engaged, but now, it was just another day on her own.

"Maddie! About time you showed! You were missed!" The groom hollered over the booming DJ equipment. He was obviously feeling no pain, throwing his arm over his friend that was standing next to him and whose conversation had been interrupted when she wandered near. The friend, looked in way worse shape than the groom but equally enjoying his time at the reception, locked eyes on Maddie and never took his eyes off her.

"I'm sorry! You didn't have to schedule your wedding in peak season either! I work in the industry, you know!"

"I forgot about that. But hey! You're here now!"

They stood there for a few minutes, just talking, giving congratulations and catching up. Maddie still being admired from the unintroduced bystander, took a sip of her wine, smiling with her eyes over the rim of her glass.

"Ah, goddamn, sorry! Maddie, Quinn; Quinn, Maddie."

"Hello," she says, making Quinn smile, his eyes finally falling away from her for the first time.

"Quinny's a little shy," the groom jokes. Quinn's face goes beet red in the dimly lit hall, at the sound of being called by one of his nicknames. He receives a playful shove to his shoulder from his teammate before he turns to leave. "I hate to leave you too, but I need to check on my bride. She's been left unsupervised with an open bar...for probably too long. Don't be strangers!"

Maddie said her goodbyes and turned her attention back to Quinn. He was looking down at his feet, kicking one with the other. His awkwardness made her smile. "So, I take it you play with Connor?"

"Yeah, he's a great guy," Quinn replied, trying to keep his drunk gaze on her face. "You're really...pretty."

His compliment was the last thing she had expected to hear so she just stared at him like a deer in the headlights for a second. Knowing she heard him correctly, she still asked him to repeat himself like the music was too loud.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Quinn shook his head, trying to make it come off like he hadn’t said anything, realizing in his drunkenness he had some regret over saying what he had. After a few moments, he began to crack a smile.

“Yeah, huh, you said I was pretty.” Maddie teased, taking another drink from her glass.

“Nuh-uh,” Quinn grinned.

Maddie, realizing he was being full of shit, gave her best fake, dramatic gasp. “How rude!” Quinn just continued to smile that same cheesy grin. Leaving it alone, Maddie looked forward to the dance floor, trying to see if there was anyone she needed to say hello to before while they could still remember seeing her. However, from where she stood it was hard to say.

“Would you want....would you like to dance?” Quinn blurts out, when the song changes to a slow one making Maddie look back over at the young captain.

“You want to dance? With me?”

Quinn nodded quickly in succession, like a little boy asked if wanted candy.

“Since you called me pretty…I guess,” she teased. “Yes, I’ll dance with you.” Putting her glass and clutch down on a nearby table she takes Quinn’s wobbly, outstretched arm and tries her best to let him lead her to the outer fringes of the dance floor.

At first, Quinn seemed hesitant to put his hands on her for the dance. Maddie helped him along by putting her arms around his neck which brought the two of them together quickly. Quinn’s face burned hot smelling her perfume and feeling her so close to him.

"Are you okay?" She said, leaning in to tease him.

"Mhm." He blushed, again.

The two of them just swayed back and forth to the slow beat of the song, in their own little world and no one paid them a bit of mind. Maddie stood an couple inches taller than Quinn due to her heels but he didn't seem to mind. From time-to-time, she'd look over at Quinn who would just start to giggle. However, towards the end of the song, something changed in his face.

"Quinn?" Maddie's brows pulled inward. Looking at him a little longer, she knew that look. His breathing had deepened, his brows were knitted together, and he just looked worried. He was going to be sick if she wasn't proactive in getting him out of there, for the sake of his pride if nothing else. "C'mon, let's get you outside."

This time, he doesn't even nod. He fully lets her guide him to the connecting hallway where she hoped she might find a bathroom. Quinn's feet began to drag, like he was fighting the urge to expel his guts all over the marble hallway.

"You're okay," she reassures, her hand in his. "Hold on just a little longer."

He didn't answer her; didn't even hum an answer, just kept his eyes down and clung to her grasp. Eventually, she'd find him a safe place and he wasted no time pushing through the door while Maddie waited outside. While she stood there, she remembered she had left her purse behind. If she didn't get it now, the possibility of someone else running off with it, or forgetting it entirely, was growing with each second she stood there.

Down the hall she sprinted - sprinted as fast as she could in her heels - to gather her things and return to Quinn hopefully before he was better. Before she reached the door she slowed to a dignified walk and acted like nothing was wrong. No one needed to know there were things going on; not her friends or his.

"Maddie!"

"Maddie come here! Where have you been?" A couple bridesmaids spotted her and at the top of their voices they yelled her name. "Come dance with us!"

Maddie just smiled and waved a "no thank you" in their direction. Their audible, disappointed whines melted into the music as she passed by them. She'd blow the group a kiss before finally parting ways, thankful that she had been able to skirt that situation without being too hindered, or asked why she was leaving; worse yet if they had seen her leave with Quinn.

Back down the hall her heels clicked almost at a panicked pace. She'd turn that final corner to see Quinn sitting on the ground, outside the bathroom door, his head resting on his knees as he hugged them. When his eyes lifted to see her, they were red and wet. He looked so tired, drained, and just like he still felt like shit.

"I'm sorry, Quinn. I just left to get my bag."

Quinn shook his head, his eyes staying locked on her face, "It's okay."

"C'mon, how about we get you upstairs?" Maddie reached down, both of her arms extended for him to take her hands and get up off the floor. His skin was cool and clammy when he finally decided to move and reach out for her. "Nice and slow."

He had lost his suit jacket by this point, it laid beside him in a crumpled heap but he was so wobbly getting back up that Maddie decided to get it for him instead. Quinn stood against the wall, his breathing slowed now and he was leaning.

"Do you have your room key, Quinn?" She asked respectfully feeling around in the pockets of the jacket in case it was in there.

"Mhm, somewhere. Oh, here, I think." From the pocket of his pants, Quinn produced the black room key and did his best to hand it to her.

"Thank you. Do you want to wear your jacket?" Maddie asked, thought it laid draped over her left arm. He shook his head and stayed leaning against the wall. "Do you need a minute?"

"No."

He sounded awful; like there was nothing left in him to interact with. Maddie put her hand against his back and his eyes opened, looking at her with exhaustion. She wanted to help him, but there was only so much comfort she could offer him from their current position. "Ready?"

"Yeah."

Getting Quinn towards the elevator had been easier than getting him to the bathroom, but it was still no speed walk. He was still wobbly underfoot and couldn't walk in a straight line without Maddie as a bumper. He mumbled inaudible apologies, laying his head on her shoulder as the elevator doors closed and pulled them upwards towards the top floor suites.

"I...sorry." Quinn spoke through a sigh. "I am...I'm really sorry."

Maddie smiled, her cheek laying against his head ever so slightly to give him that brief moment of unashamed comfort. "We've all been there, Quinn, it's fine! You'll feel better in the morning."

"I don't...think....I doubt it," he replied, causing Maddie to stifle a laugh. His deep, full-bodied sighs were the only sound beyond the dings from the floors the elevator was passing. The chateau's top floor opened up to the two of them and she let Quinn step out at his own pace. Naturally, his room would be at the other end of the hall but she never once rushed him. It didn't matter if it took five minutes or fifteen, she'd let him stop whenever he needed to collect himself.

"Do you...have...do you have my key?" He asked, feeling around in his pocket. His voice was getting deeper, more monotone. Was he getting more relaxed or just on the verge of falling asleep?

"Yes, Quinn, I have your key."

"Oh, okay."

The lock clicked and with the weighted door pushed open, Maddie would insist Quinn go in first. He put one hand on the door, then the other on the wall and felt his way inside while Maddie stayed close behind; her fingertips hovering just behind the center of his back. He'd find his way safely to the edge of the bed and flopped down with another heavy sigh, laying on his back.

"I'm sorry," Quinn continued to apologize, his hands covering his eyes. "I'm...I'm really sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she added, hanging up his jacket. "Do want some help getting into bed?"

"Yes, please. Wait, no, yeah...I don't know."

Maddie smiled though Quinn never saw it. She stood there just looking at him have an existential crisis in real time. "Come on, let me help you or else you're just going to lay there all night in your suit."

"I'm fine."

"Quinn." Maddie said, her brows raised.

"Okay." He was just being a big kid at this point but she found it cute. She'd get his shoes untied and him pulled back up to a seated position. His little legs didn't reach the floor and she'd find Quinn kicking his sock feet when she turned back around.

Quinn's golden eyes just looked at her while she slowly unbuttoned his dress shirt. "Have I told you...that I think....that you're really pretty?"

Maddie tried not to look at him, not out of embarrassment, but because she, too, wanted to get back to her room and if she looked at him every time he said something adorable, she'd be there all night. However, when he brought a hand up to stop her from undoing another button, she had no choice.

"Have I? Because you...because you are." The natural sincerity in his words touched her, drunk or not. The look in his eyes said nothing but the truth.

"You have, a couple times, yes," she smiled, his hand still holding on to both of hers. "That's very sweet of you."

Finally, the childlike joy flashed in his eyes again and he mirrored her smile, "Okay...okay good. Someone should...you should be told that."

"Alright, Prince Charming, can I finish what I'm doing?" Maddie winked.

"You're trying to get me...you're taking my clothes off! You're...you want me naked, huh?"

This time she couldn't help but snort, she laughs so hard. Quinn just looks at her wide eyed and serious; almost shocked thinking he got her intentions correct.

"I knew it! Here, I'll...I'll help you!"

"Quinn it's fine! I--," but before she could finish her sentence, he started fussing with his belt but clumsy fingers couldn't conquer the buckle.

"I can't...I'm stuck...in my pants. Wow..."

Shaking her head she'd finally finish with the last remaining buttons of his shirt while he hung his head in what appeared to be the most self-defeating shame. She was, however, able to get him to his feet just long enough to get him out of his pants, leaving him wobbly there in a t-shirt and his underwear.

"Okay, bedtime," Maddie said, giving his back a little tap.

"Okay," he yawned, shuffling a few feet towards the turned back covers. Once he was under the blankets she put his phone on the charger but not before putting her number in his contacts, just in case.

"If you need anything, you can call me, alright? Do you remember my name?"

"Maddie?"

"Mhm, so if you need anything, just call, okay?"

"Thank you," Quinn said, giving her one of his bashful grins from earlier in the evening.

Maddie, standing next to him held her hair back before leaning forward to place a soft kiss to his forehead. Quinn smiled wider, snuggling deeper beneath the blankets after she turned off the light. "Good night, Prince Charming."

"Good night, Maddie. It was...I'm glad that...it was really nice to meet you."

"It was lovely to meet you, too, Quinn. Get some sleep, okay?"

"Thank you, you too."

In the darkness of the room Maddie smiled, before turning away from her not-so secret admirer. Once the door closed behind her, she hoped he'd be alright through the night. She felt that after some good sleep he'd bounce back to his old self which was a thought that she held for herself as well. And with said thought, Maddie returned to her own room, two floors down from Quinn's, instead of returning to the reception.

Maddie's room was much smaller than Quinn's suite, but seeing as she could only stay the one night, it was for the best, plus, she didn't have NHL money to afford the twenty-five-hundred-dollars a night charge. She undid the ankle straps of her stilettos, removed her jewelry, and slipped out of her dress. Having those heels off was such a relief but walking without them was terribly painful.

The cold tile brought some relief, as she stood before the vanity removing her makeup. Hot steam rolled from the spa-like tub filling with water and fragrant scents behind her. By this point, it was well after 2am, and by her face in the mirror, she felt it. This bath would be well worth the wait.

Forty minutes later, with her hair in a messy top-bun, Maddie stood there in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boyshorts. She was exhausted as she applied her skincare, yearning for the comforting embrace of her bed that was just around the corner. That was before her phone began to ring in the next room. There was only one person she could think of that would be calling her: Quinn.

"Quinn?"

From the other end of the phone, a slight reverberation echoed with each word he struggled to speak.

"I need you. Please."

"Okay, okay, I'll be there in a few minutes," she replied, worried.

His line went dead and the phone call ended. Maddie didn't even bother putting on her leggings; just slipped on her white sneakers, grabbed her phone and sprinted down her own hallway to get to Quinn as fast as she could. The elevator took forever to open to her floor but at least it had been empty. Her acrylic nails tapped against the buttons, queuing Quinn's floor as she impatiently waited for the final stop.

"610, 611, 612," Maddie whispered to herself, hoping she had remember the correct room number. Knocking lightly, she hoped he would hear her.

"I'm sorry," Quinn said, opening the door to her slowly. He was covered in sweat, his white shirt damp and his hair all in front of his eyes.

"What's wrong?" No sooner had she reached for his shoulder, Quinn was turning away to stumble back to the bathroom.

Dry heaves. The devil.

He had nothing left to lose, but his body was trying to convince him that if he didn't clear his system, he'd continue to be miserable. Maddie followed behind him, seeing him draped over the toilet, his shoulders rolled forward as his body tensed against each retching episode.

"Oh, Quinn," she said under her breath. She knew his pain; dry heaves were almost worse than actually having to vomit: less painful. Maddie ran a washcloth beneath the cold tap and wrung it out before placing in on the back of his neck. His body shuddered against the sharp sensation which prompted her to run her hand up and down his spine for comfort and support. "You're okay."

He started to sniffle when he pulled away, feeling awful both physically and about having her see him like this. Maddie would hand him a towel off the warmer and he buried his face in it immediately. Her sympathy for him was growing. He just looked like a little boy getting sick for the first time.

"Want to try laying back down?"

He nodded.

"Okay, come on, sweetheart," Maddie cooed, getting him to his feet. His fingers clung to her body without hesitation, unlike before. Now, he came off like he needed her; no longer bashful about being so close to her. "You sit right here, okay?"

"I'll try," Quinn said, sitting back down on the edge of his bed a second time. She returned to his side with a bottle of water he had left out from earlier in the day. It wasn't full but it would serve its purpose.

"I need you to drink this, okay? Just little sips, alright?"

Quinn took the bottle and brought it to his lips several times; each time he pulled it away, he gasped for air slightly. He was still shaking; his shirt slightly damp from sweat. Maddie was standing directly in front of him, close enough for him to lean into her. When the bottle was nearly empty, Quinn reached out for her and pulled her into him; his head nestled directly between her breasts. She knew he didn't mean to be so forward, so she didn't push him away.

"You'll be okay, Quinn, I promise," Maddie said softly, both hands lost in his hair.

Eventually, he'd look up at her, the faint light from the harsh overhead bathroom fixture giving the bedroom enough illumination to see his expression. He looked so worried, so scared by everything going on with him in that moment. Maddie brushed the hair from his forehead; his eyelids fluttering closed each time she brushed them away.

"Wanna lay back down?"

Quinn's brows pulled together, like he was unsure if he should or not. Maddie continued to play with his hair, her pointed nails raking against his scalp comfortably,

"I don't want to get sick again." Quinn's voice was meek and solidified the notion that he was scared.

"I don't think you will. I think your body knows now that everything is gone now. Let's try getting you back in bed, okay?"

He nods again, his arms falling away from her waist as she takes a step back to give him room to move, taking the bottle from him. Quinn slips back beneath the covers as Maddie covers him up to his chin. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you."

"Okay, if you're sure."

"You're not leaving, are you?" He asked, seeing her turn away from him again. Maddie turn back, her eyes locking onto his face immediately.

"Aw, Quinn you don't have to pout." The sight broke her heart, but she wondered if staying was really the best decision. However, looking at him beneath the covers, his dark eyes conveying immeasurable amounts of sadness, and that bottom lip. How dare he look so cute yet so heartbreakingly miserable.

"I don't want you to go," he mumbled.

"You're okay now, I promise."

"Please, stay?" Quinn pleaded again, this time with more emotion in his voice.

Maddie's eyes pulled away from his face. The bed was an obvious King; too much for one person let alone two. Quinn hadn't come off like a guy who couldn't keep his hands to himself so what harm would it be to stay?

"Okay, if you want me to say, I'll stay." She tried giving him a reassuring smile, but it didn't change his sorrowful expression.

Climbing into the bed from the other side, Maddie got close enough to Quinn that if he needed her she was within arms reach. She didn't want to crowd him, they didn't know each other that way. Surely he'd understand, right? She'd let her eyes fall closed but they didn't remain closed for long. The feeling of Quinn's hand touching her bare leg made her flinch.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He mumbled. "I just...I didn't mean it, I just..."

Maddie didn't say anything, instead, she found his arm and followed it downward until her hand found his. Quinn gave hers a little squeeze, his heart falling back into its normal rhythm after his scare. It was all he had wanted in the end. They'd fall asleep hand-in-hand; Quinn's head facing Maddie's on their respective pillows.

Hours later, way into morning, Maddie awoke to find Quinn snuggled up beside her. His stray curls had tickled her nose, pulling her from a comfortable slumber. He remained asleep as she did her best to carefully leave his side, ensuring he stayed asleep. Afterall, it was Quinn who needed to recover from the wild night of drinking, not her.

Quiet as she could, Maddie laced up her shoes, grabbed her phone and redid her hair before slipping out of the room. She tugged at the hem of the shirt she wore as she walked, and even though it fell just below her backside, she wasn't at a frat house; this was a luxury resort... She felt dirty, like she was walking a modified walk-of-shame. Had Quinn been awake she might have asked to borrow a pair of his sweatpants or something but that just didn't happen. Maybe she could play it off like she had been in the gym or something, but though she wasn't sweating or out of breath, it might just look like a big lie.

Thankfully for Maddie, there was no one around. Everyone still seemed to be sleeping off their hangovers which kept the halls and elevators empty. Once back inside her room, everything was like she had left it in her frantic leaving some hours prior. The lights were still on, her bed was still made, even the containers of skincare remained open and strewn about the counter like she was in the process of applying it. Looking at the mess, she couldn't believe she had just dropped everything for a guy she had just met. Granted, the way Quinn had sounded and what he had said, it had conveyed urgency. She'd spend the next hour packing and preparing to head back to Vancouver.

It was the headache that had woken Quinn up.

The curtains were still drawn, his phone was silent, and he was alone. He didn't dream about everything that had happened the night before, had he? He had met Maddie, and gotten sick, and had begged her to stay, right? They went to bed together, too? Where was she now, he wondered. Clawing his way up to rest his body weight on his forearms, he looked around the room, but there was no sign of her; no sound but the gentle whistle of the air conditioner.

Quinn sighed, pinching his eyes shut before the buzzing of his phone on the nightstand grabbed his attention.

Connor: Hey bud (10:38am)

Connor: You alive? (10:38am)

Connor: Just checking in

Didnt see you again after leaving you with maddie (10:39am)

Quinn: Yeah, I'm alive. (10:40am)

Connor: Thats good

She treat you alright? ;) (10:42am)

Quinn: Yeah, I'm pretty sure I made an ass of myself, though.

She's the only reason I made it back to my room this morning. (10:45am)

Connor: ooooh ;) (10:45am)

Quinn: It was nothing like that. (10:47am)

Connor: Well damn, lol

You get sick? (10:48am)

Quinn: Yes. (10:49am)

Connor: On her? (10:54am)

Quinn: No, but I have a feeling I said some things I shouldn't have. (10:56am)

Connor: Oh im sure shes okay (10:58am)

Quinn: Hopefully.

I need to get up and shower. What are you guys doing today? (11:01am)

Connor: Sounds good

Come meet us downstairs for brunch (11:09am)

Quinn: I'll see you in a few. (11:11am)

Quinn let his phone from his hand into the duvet as he laid on his back once his conversation with Connor had concluded. He had no strength to get out of bed and get in the shower, though he knew the hot water would likely bring him some comfort. Several minutes passed before he finally threw the covers aside and left the warm embrace of the linens.

Before he made it to the bathroom, in the small closet area, Quinn noticed his suit hung up and his dress shoes on the rack below it. He hadn't expected to see everything so nice, so tenderly cared for. Maddie really had taken care of him from the moment she had met him. Normally, he would have smiled to himself at such a kindness, but instead Quinn found himself with an opposite emotion. He should have been able to do everything she had done for him on his own. Instead, he was ashamed of everything and dreaded hearing of anything he didn't remember.

Hanging his head, Quinn entered the bathroom and hoped the hot steam would erase his lingering shame.

"Maddie! You're not leaving us, are you?" Sarah, the bride of the whole affair said, seeing her best friend walking past their private, outdoor dining area. The chateau had no shortage of stunning views, outdoor patios, and grand interior decorating. Maddie was sad to be leaving after essentially just arriving, and considering she hadn't even turned back the blankets of her bed, it was shame to just pack up and leave, but she had other obligations.

Maddie stopped and gave a sorrowful expression to her childhood friend. "I've gotta get back to the city, babe!"

"Not even for brunch and mimosas? You literally just got here!" Sarah got up from her table and made her way to where Maddie had stopped. They met in a hug and Sarah hoped she could still convince her friend to stay just a little longer.

"Yeah, I know, and I want to stay, but I just have so much to do. It was so hard for me to even get yesterday off! I have over a dozen appointments a day right now. I'm working twelves just to make my numbers."

Sarah pouted, both because she hadn't been convincing enough and also because she hated to hear how over-worked her bestie was. "Well, we'll have to meet up sometime when you have a minute. I miss you, girlie!"

"I miss you, too!" Maddie responded, giving Sarah another loving hug.

"You be careful! Text me when you get home, please!"

"Oh, absolutely, I'd like that. And Connor, you take care of her for me!" Maddie threatened playfully. Connor returned comments of assurance before giving his well-wishes as well. She didn't like goodbyes, but thankfully they were all around Vancouver and it was easy enough to make plans. Maddie would just have to survive wedding season first.

"Well, we'll let you go! Please, be careful!"

"I will. Love you," Maddie said, with one final goodbye.

"We love you, too!"

Before Maddie left, Connor left the table to give her his personal farewells. His hug was tighter than Sarah's but it came with a meaning.

"Hey, thanks for taking care of Quinn the other night. I appreciate it."

Maddie pulled away, and looked upon his face with confusion. "He told you about that?"

"Yeah, and he was pretty embarrassed. I just wanted to thank you. I don't think anyone else would have done that."

She gave him a slight nod, a silent agreement between the two of them. Maddie waved back to the table once they parted ways and turned back towards the direction of the main lobby. At the same time she was leaving, Quinn rounded the corner and stopped when he saw her. Those legs, bare beneath the pale, floral sundress she was wearing; the same ones he vaguely remembered touching by accident. The dread came flooding in once again, remembering bits and pieces of things he had done that morning. She was leaving and he found himself feeling sad yet he was unable to do anything but watch her go. It was only after she was out of sight that he forced himself to walk again.

"Ah, there he is!" Connor teased, seeing Quinn finally darken the patio doorway. "You just missed Maddie. You know, if you hurry you might be able to apologize to her before she leaves."

Quinn looked down and sighed. It would take him a second to take his seat at their table.

"It's alright, bud, we all do stupid shit around pretty girls sometimes."

Sarah gave her husband's arm a slight tap, "Baby! Don't tease him like that! That's not nice!"

"Oh, he's fine, but you should have seen him, though. I don't think he blinked the whole time we stood there."

"Connor! Stop it!" By now, Sarah was trying not to laugh.

"Is she still dating the Henrik Lundqvist looking guy?" Connor asked, taking a slightly more serious turn with the conversation.

"Who, Jared? No, they split a year ago or something," Sarah recollected before taking a sip of her champagne drink. "I couldn't stand that guy. He was a pretentious asshole."

"Wasn't he a lawyer or something?"

"I think so, yeah. I mean, I know what she saw in him, but Christ. She's better off."

"Now's your chance, Quinny! Next year, it's your wedding we'll be going to if you play your cards right!"

"Ha, yeah, okay," he mumbled, his eyes scanning the morning's specials instead of interacting directly with the couple.

"I don't see Quinn the type to get engaged and married within a year," Sarah said, looking upon the young man with a smile, a hint of mischief in her eyes. Of course, she'd love to see her best friend find a great guy to be with, but she wasn't sure if Quinn was that fit either.

"I don't know, you should have seen how he looked at her, babe. It looked like love at first sight to me."

"I'm sitting right here," Quinn said in a huff, starting to get annoyed with the constant berating.

"Alright, alright! Fair enough," Connor chuckled.

Quinn's mind was racing like his heart in his chest. He still felt terrible about everything he had done, that other people knew, and that Maddie's opinion of him was probably terrible. He'd sit with Connor and Sarah through brunch, mostly hearing them talk, occasionally including him when needed. His mind was elsewhere: replaying the night before, wondering what he could do to rectify the past situation, and wondering if he'd ever see the tall brunette that called him Prince Charming, again.

After brunch, Quinn would remember that he had her phone number. By then, however, she would be hitting

Quinn: Hey, I'm really sorry about last night.

I hope I didn't do anything to offend you last night. (1:15pm)

Quinn: I feel awful about everything.

You were very kind to me, through everything. (1:25pm}

Quinn: I'm sorry if I'm rambling and bothering you. (1:27pm)

Quinn: I'd love to make it up to you, if you'd let me. (1:31pm)

Quinn: I know you're busy with work right now, but if you have some free time, may I take you to dinner sometime? (1:33pm)

Quinn: I'm sure you're still driving.

Sorry to keep messaging you. (1:37pm)

Maddie: You don't have anything to apologize for. <3 I'm just hoping you're feeling better! (2:45pm)

Maddie: Dinner sounds nice, but you don't have to do that just because you're sorry. (2:45pm)

Quinn: I'm tired, but I'm okay. Thank you. Did you make it home okay? (2:46pm)

Quinn: I am sorry about my actions, but I honestly would like to take you out. Genuinely. (2:46pm)

Maddie: :) You're sweet!

And yes, just got in, thanks. (2:53pm)

Quinn: That's good. (2:55pm)

Quinn: Hope you have a good afternoon and evening. (3:25pm)

Maddie: Sorry! My phone died! I didn't realize what my battery was on! D: (3:50pm)

Quinn: It's okay. (3:51pm)

Maddie: I'll let you know by the end of the week what my schedule looks like.

I'm already a day behind so I've a lot of catching up to do! :/

Where do you want to go for dinner? ;) (3:55pm)

Quinn: No rush. It sounds like a lot.

How do you feel about sushi? (3:58pm)

Maddie: It's my favourite! :D 🩷🩷🩷(4:05pm)

Quinn: Mine, too.

I'll make it up to you, I promise. (4:09pm)

Maddie: Nothing to make up for, Quinn. <3 Promise.

Take it easy, okay? (4:12pm)

Quinn: Okay, I'll try.

Have a good evening. (4:19pm)

I really worked hard on this daydream; days of brainstorming and note making. I hope at least one of you enjoys it. c: I can't guarantee a consistent posting schedule but I will do my best to get a couple out each month, as they tend to be a little on the longer side.

If you have any requests for stand-alone blurbs, please don't hesitate to reach out in my Asks.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey fanfiction #quinn hughes x oc #nhl fanfiction #nhl x oc #quinn hughes fluff

52 notes · View notes

pouralaura · 4 months ago

Note

Sorry, this is probably weird. But my brain is Raphael 24/7 and he and Tav being obsessed with each other. But I was wondering how he’d react to a demi Tav?

He’s crushing and trying to impress for the longest time, and they are completely unphased. Like nothin’, nada. I’m sure he’d be frustrated. But also perplexed? He’s always been able to charm his way with people. So he meets this unmovable person and he’s like ???

But then imagining later on, Tav’s feelings for him suddenly hit them like a fucking train. All of their obsession with HIM hits like tenfold. He is the sexiest being in existence, and they are stupidly in love with him, and they are PANICKING.

I may be the only one who finds this particular scenario intriguing but 😅

Disclaimer: I am not well-versed in demisexuality and this is my first time writing it, so please pardon any lack of necessary nuance here. thanks to @reallyhatethiswebsite for helping me figure out the trigger point! they/them AFAB Tav, Raphael POV.

Had Raphael ever, in all of his hundreds of years, experienced such a maddening, tantalizing, mouthwatering proximity to victory? Every hellish fiber of his being thrums in anticipation of his looming triumph. The Crown, so close, its pull so alluring. The augury of his reign launches his mind into a state of utter bliss outside of business hours (and, frankly, often during), a grin on his face and his cock hard as a diamond beneath the quilting of his luxuriously expensive trousers. He is, simply put, so close.

There remains but a single obstacle in his way: a lost, floundering little mouse, so unprepared and ill-equipped for success -- at least, at first. Raphael had been pleasantly surprised at Tav's capability for mortal achievement once they'd gotten their feet underneath them. His respect for them grew as their conquests did; they'd proven an apt ally for many and a fearsome adversary for many more.

Flawed as they are, Tav is perfect for his plan. Raphael has every faith that they will be his savior (in a manner of speaking) now that the time is drawing near. They must succeed. They will. Such a headstrong, belligerent creature; all the sweeter to become the victor -- and, in line with that, to claim himself.

(More on that in a moment.)

He's ruminating on this, as he has near-incessantly in recent months, while strolling back to the Devil's Den from deeper within the city. Maintaining chivalrous relations with his hosts at Sharess' Caress is mandatory; he pauses at the front desk to brush a kiss across the delicate knuckles of the blushing Amira, inclines his head in polite greeting to various good-natured courtesans, and stops to exchange pleasantries with Hoots at the bar before ascending the stairs to his domain of the Gate. Trivial pursuits, but necessary.

(Back to the matter at hand --)

Yes, he will claim Tav himself.

...This point requires further clarification. He will claim Tav as a step to his own conquest. They will fulfill a contract with him. If it happens that they also wish for his claim in a more decidedly carnal way, what manner of devil would he be to deny them? A favor for a favor, after all.

But, alas, they'd proven nearly unmovable in that last respect. It's far from the first time Raphael has experienced, either implicitly or explicitly, rejection of his incomparable devilish charms -- but, to be fair: nearly all of the aforementioned occurrences had been caused by an innate preference for the fairer sex. Their loss, perhaps; but it simply couldn't be helped -- and certainly not a stain on his ego.

(Tav, for what it's worth, however, does not seem limited by such preferences. Near-flawless reconnaissance is a gift and a curse; Raphael is very much aware of their blessedly brief dalliance with the insufferable vampling.)

Such hopes for mutual understanding on levels to-be-determined had been dashed, indeed, until a particular point of curiosity earlier in the week, when Tav and their ragtag gang of unappealing ruffians had met him upstairs at the Caress following his confrontation with the inestimable Kith'rak. Voss had left, and Raphael had snapped his fingers to shield Tav and their party from the detestable illithid shouting about in their heads --

The devil had watched figurative clicking cogs turn between the little mouse's ears for several seconds as they processed the assumedly blissful silence he'd fleetingly gifted them.

"I don't...hear anything." Tav's voice had been quiet. Surprised.

"You are, as always, welcome." He'd smugly spread his arms, inclining his head in a mock bow. "My favorite future client deserves nothing if not the very best I can offer."

There were no differences in how he'd behaved on this occasion, but the way Tav looked at him after his effortless momentary aid was far more layered than during any previous encounter. And, if he was correct -- colored by the hint of a blush, one that he could smell before he could see. The scent of blood rising to their cheeks, dusting their pretty countenance with just a trace of something. A crack. A break.

Perhaps.

Delicious.

He nears the door of the Devil's Den, and...stops.

There is a familiar scent in the air; one he did not expect to be greeted by upon his return to The Office. It's them.

His little mouse is inside. Must have climbed through a window, leapt across rooftops to reach the one opening he leaves regularly and intentionally unwarded for just this precise possibility.

(Korrilla, behind his back, raises her eyebrows at this deliberate lapse in security each time it's included in his instruction. She's lucky he doesn't snap the bones in each of her toes one-by-one.)

Cautiously, he wills the hellish locks to open. Carefully, he presses long, tanned fingers to the door's handle. With deliberation, he pushes into the room.

It takes him two point three seconds to register that Tav is not only in the room, but on their back on the rich, plush red duvet-covered bed, propped up on their elbows, staring straight at him with the loveliest blush dusted across the apples of their cheeks. He steps stiffly into his domain, letting the heavy wooden door close and lock behind him with a decided click. Another seven point eight seconds to close the distance between them (he slinks across the room slowly, like a cat); a full nine seconds, once he's arrived at the bedside, to drink in Tav's nakedness from head to toe -- well, except for the whipped cream adorning the tips of their breasts, if one could call that any sort of coverage. And -- ah. An amber liquid filling the divot of their belly button.

His mouth curls up into a satisfied little smirk. They have been paying attention.

"Are you here to accept my offer, little mouse?" Raphael finally asks, low and warm and purring.

He watches them swallow. Breathe. Follows the red flush as it spreads, heated, down their neck, between their cream-laden breasts, around their liquor-filled navel, all the way down to the lovely pink of their vulnerable, exposed, undeniably glistening sex.

"I am not. At least, not yet." In a contrast to their blush, Tav's voice is strong and level as they continue despite Raphael's responding sneer. "I am here to make one of my own."

"And what, pray tell," the devil bites out, voice tinged with the familiar mix of irritation, intrigue, and damning arousal this creature heralds within him, "might that be?"

"I'm inclined to accept, but only following further discussion." They grin. "But over dinner, here. And...you'll need to do something about my --" here they motion to the confectionary disaster writ upon their flawed, mortal body, beneath him in every way -- "current state."

He'll play along, if only to ease the tightness in his trousers.

Less than ten minutes later, when Raphael is laving his forked tongue along the underside of Tav's breast, lapping up the last of the cream and holding himself back from spilling onto the sheets beneath them, he thinks: I am in control.

Tav moans as he bites; as he presses his face between their thighs, a ragged whine bubbles up from his throat, hot and needy.

They'll be mine yet.

#raphael x tav #raphael bg3 #laura's writing #bg3 raphael #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #raphael the cambion #thank you for the ask!#was super fun to write raph as the one breaking tav for once #anon ask #prompt request

57 notes · View notes

ameagrice · 6 months ago

Text

Capsize

percy jackson x fem reader

chapter thirty-four | logical

They moved back to New York shortly before the summer breakup. In a letter redirected to Percy’s apartment for you, your stepmom wrote that things were getting better. Your dad sold up abroad and moved back to be closer to you, apparently, so you could visit more often. The thought of it made you uncomfortable. Moving back to be near you wasn’t the worst thing, though—Rachel having another baby, was.

“The poor kid,” you stared, horrified at the letter.

Through a mouthful of Froot Loops, Percy raised his brows. “Huh?”

“I’m getting another sister,” you tilted your head, a flurry of emotions whirling. You’d love her like you loved Finn, but the thought of her going through the motions the way you did was not particularly pleasant. Would she be stuck inside, too? Would she be barred from leaving? Would she be judged on what she wore, or said or laughed at? Would she be in danger, too? Girls are always judged terribly. You wouldn’t worry like this over Finn.

“You don’t look…happy about that,” he chewed.

You hum softly. “I am happy. Just…I don’t know.”

Percy knew quite a bit about your unpleasant home life. He knew you had ran away last year to escape it, and he knew about the wilderness camp fiasco that felt so long ago. He knew you’d attended Yancy simply because your family didn’t know what to do with you, and it hurt. They were most certainly not equipped with the knowledge or the readiness to be parents to one, let alone three.

“They didn’t know what to do with just me,” you scoff, throwing down the letter in a stray spill of milk. “Why are they…?” Of course that always was the question—why? Why to everything they said and did. It made your brain hurt.

Cooking over by the stove, Paul Blofis flipped pancakes. You shared a table of them, Froot Loops and toppings, a feast fit for a king—and enough of it, too. Paul even let you and Percy flip your pancakes. You’d never been allowed to, before. Not because you were incapable—there was no reason at all. Your father just didn’t want you to, so you never did. But Paul? Patience. Of. A. Saint. Between the giant mess that was mixing the pancake mix with Percy, and actually scooping the mix from the bowl to the pan, burning your pancakes and flipping fresh ones, he was only smiles and encouraging (often strained) words. Percy found it all hilarious, of course, throwing the mix around and getting it on the ceiling. And once Percy did it you had to do it too, because what was being silly if not with your best friend? Sally had rushed to the store on the corner for more supplies and would be back soon with the promise of breakfast and then a visit to Central Park Zoo.

When another letter was redirected to Percy’s apartment, you discovered that your family had at last moved back. With the address scratched with a near-empty pen on a piece of scrap paper, Sally took you over while the boys sorted dinner. You didn’t want to go in, you explained. Only to check the place out. The address took you to a five-storey in a nice neighbourhood in the Upper East Side.

“You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to,” said Sally.

You stared, and tried to imagine your family inside. “It’s kind of a wasted trip, then.”

With the car parked up to the curb, you watched the street for a few seconds, Sally allowing you to collect your thoughts. “They’re having another kid,” you blurt. “They sent me away, but they’re having another kid. Is there something wrong with me?”

Sally reached out to you and took your hand in a surprising gesture. She did it to Percy all the time, laying her hand on his shoulder, or grabbing his hand when he struggled with something. You turn your head, to find her already looking at you. Your throat burned.

“No,” she shook her head. Percy had her nose, and her honesty. “Don’t ever think that. You’re one of the smartest, kindest kids I’ve ever met, and if they don’t see that, that is not your fault. Okay?”

Of course it wasn’t okay. You were more of a maid than a daughter, just something pretty to brag about in conversation and meetings. So how could you be okay with their new children potentially being brought up the same way, with a man who believed women were made for everything housework and then some, and that children were seen and not heard, made to abide by every rule the ‘man of the house’ sets?

“Can we go back to your house?” You asked.

She didn’t hesitate in turning around. Perhaps one day, you would tell her all about your thoughts in this moment, and of how despite them, you’d go right back again and again to be upset and humiliated. Human nature, and the want to feel loved. That’s all it ever was. And as a fifteen-year-old, setting boundaries didn’t come as second-nature.

The evening was spent playing Mario Kart, throwing Paul off-course with turtle shells and bananas. Percy beat you Every. Damn. Time. (but he let you win once, and that was enough). The evening ended on cheesy pizza and ice-cream, the radio blasting some recently released song, and Percy cracking jokes from the other room in the dark.

So…the tunnel was a dead end. Of course. You couldn’t have anything lucky. Gasping for breath after sprinting the whole way down, you leaned against the wall trying to catch some oxygen.

Percy keeled over with his hands on his knees. “Holy sh—”

“We’re dead!” Cried Grover. His hands flew to his hair hysterically. “We’re—oh, there’s another tunnel!”

Which, essentially, happened to be half your height and forced you to face the realistic possibility that you might have a fear of enclosed spaces. Crawling through on your stomach, monsters echoing, coming closer down the tunnel was not on the agenda. Something one-hundred-percent not human was too close for comfort, and just when you thought you were dead, the tunnel beneath you gave way, and you slid down a bright-red, plastic slide with a sudden scream, swirling around and around until you came to a stop, slamming into metal bars in a dark room. Percy came to a stop, slamming you once more against the wall with a yelp, and then Grover, screaming his way down the slide, and also colliding with the two of you.

“At least we’ve lost it,” huffed Percy, getting to his feet. He offered a hand down to you, and you took it. “There’s no way it can fit through…well, it’s closed up anyway. Fantastic.”

You offered a hand to Grover, pulling him up to his feet. He shakily exhaled. “But we’ve trapped ourselves, now. Look.”

You turned. The room was huge, a giant square space in which you were trapped, encased by metal bars from floor to ceiling. You approached the silver wall and tested the bars. They were cold to the touch, but moveable. Like jello, when you pressed your hand to it they wobbled but didn’t move apart. Taking the end of your dagger, you poked a bar tentatively. You created a dent in the middle of it that quickly closed up again.

“What the hell?…”

Through the bars were rows of what could only be described as cells, each with metal bars of different thickness and material. At least three stories of cells, except the two above yours were ordinary-looking and simple enough, joined by metal catwalks.

You hadn’t noticed Percy come to your side until he spoke. “It’s a prison,” he pushed on the bars. Though they wobbled, they bent ever so slightly. “Maybe we could…” he reached out for your dagger and tried sawing at them, creating little gashes that left dust floating to the ground. With enough friction, the bars would most definitely cut apart.

Grover approach the bars and tested them. “Someone take that side. If we pull on either side, someone can slip between the bars and get out.”

It might have been the most productive idea anyone’s had in a while. You take a hold of a bar just as Grover said and pull so hard that your arms are shaking. Percy shrugs off his backpack and throws it through the wider gap you’ve created before sliding through, breathing in dramatically with wide eyes. On the other side, he jumped around cheering. You might have smiled and joined him, if the chanting hadn’t started. A deep, low sobbing jolted Percy to shut up quickly, dropping his arms. High above in the building, a raspy voice came, words you didn’t understand.

“What’s that supposed to be?” You whispered to Grover anxiously.

He’d turned shaky, and nodded for Percy to take your bar. “Let’s keep moving. Like, now, Percy. I don’t like the sound of that.”

“But what is it?” The boy asked, pulling for you to slip between the bendy bars.

Grover didn’t reply. You held the bar for him and when he was through you carried on through the building. The ancient-sounding language had stopped, but the crying continued. The lights flickered, and you could hear the electricity running through them, clicking.

“I think it’s a prison,” you said, eyeing the cells. “A huge one. Ha! Imagine we’re in Alcatraz.”

“Be just our luck,” rolled Percy’s eyes.

It didn’t seem possible in the slightest that you could have exited the maze on the other side of the country far from camp, but realistically anything was possible these days. You’d nearly reached halfway through the room when Grover threw out his arm and hissed. “Stop!” You paused. “Can you see that?” He nodded above, eyes trained high.

You look where he did, and focussed on the shape of the second-floor balcony. Standing, if that was the right word, was a monster you’d only seen in books and history class at camp. At least twenty-feet long with the lower-half the body of a dragon and from the waist upward a woman, with constantly changing shapes and animals at her waist. Her hair reminded you of Medusa’s so long ago, snakes snapping and hissing.

“Get down,” Grover prompted, pulling on your arm. You hadn’t even noticed the boys had crouched in the shadows. The monster paid you no attention, and though the language was foreign to you, it was easy to understand that it spoke directly to whoever was in the cell. Everyone held their breath when the footsteps sounded on the stairs, descending. She spread wings you’d failed to see, and in a gust of hot, sulphuric-smelling air, disappeared.

Grover exhaled beside you. A glance at him provided you the sight of him sweating lightly, weary. “H-horrible. I haven’t smelt a monster that strong since forever.”

“Definitely an old one,” you agreed, leaning forward ever so slightly to peer up the floors, hands pressed to the cold ground for balance.

“What was that?” Asked Percy, shoes scuffing as he shifted.

“Kampê,” shook Grover. “When the Titans ruled the world, they imprisoned Gaea and Ouranos’s earlier children. Cyclopes, and Hekatonkheires.”

Percy spluttered. “The Heka-what?”

“The Hundred-Handed Ones,” you shivered. You felt a little ashamed of the disgust you acknowledge at parts of your own world, the unpretty parts. If the gods could hand down traits to their children, you were sure that liking and paying attention to only the nice things was one you had unfortunately inherited. Vanity, and ignorance. “They called them that because they had, like, a hundred hands. They’re the elder brothers of the Cyclopes. Grim, right?”

“Kampê worked for Kronos,” Grover continued. “She kept the Hundred-Handed Ones in Tartarus, tortured them and kept them imprisoned for years. Until Zeus came, I mean. He killed Kampê and freed them all. In return, they fought in the war, against Kronos.”

“And now she’s back.”

Grover nodded. “And now she’s back. So who’s in that cell?”

“Maybe it’s someone she’s captured before? I mean, why else would she be back and making someone cry?”

There was only one solution: checking it out.

With your dagger drawn, Grover on high alert and ready to indicate monsters, and Percy with his sword, together you crept up the metal steps, backs to the wall, scaling. As you grew nearer to the cell, the crying grew louder. You couldn’t help holding back when you saw the creature inside, because you weren’t completely sure on how you would react. It sat against a wall, the colour of milk and pale as anything, with long limbs. His chest sprouted more arms than you could count. His face was long and sad, and the eyes were dark brown with no whites to be seen. All in all, you felt a little sick. No wonder Aphrodite paid special attention to you; you only liked the pretty things in life. Despite the aversion to him, you couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. Somebody so sad didn’t deserve your hate.

“Either the sky isn’t so tall anymore,” uttered Percy, “or he’s short for a Hundred-Handed One.” Said creature looked up when he spoke. You jumped violently.

Grover’s voice shook when he approached the bars. “Hundred-Handed One, please help us.”

The creature wiped his face with numerous hands, and you had to turn around for a second and collect yourself. “Run while you can, Satyr, for I cannot even help myself.”

“But, sure you can! You’re a Hundred-Handed One. You can do anything!”

The false positivity did na-da. The creature’s hands twisted bits of metal and wood, building a toy boat, and pretend characters with swords and bows and arrows. As quickly as they appeared, they dismantled.

“I cannot!” He denied, weeping sadly. “Kampê has returned. The Titans will rise and throw us into Tartarus once more.” You couldn’t argue there. The way things were going, chances weren’t looking good.

“Come on! Put on a brave face and let’s do this!” Oh, Grover, ever the positive. You couldn’t say the same for Percy and yourself—you looked at him, to find him jabbing his thumb down the stairs.

The creature’s face morphed. He now had a pointed noise, arched brows and a strange smile, but it quickly faltered and melted away, returning to the sad one. “No good,” he sighed depressingly. “My scared face keeps coming back.”

“How did you do that?” Percy gasped.

You coughed. “The Hundred-Handed Ones have fifty different faces, Percy!” You smiled to say please shut up.

He shrugged. “Must make it hard to get a yearbook picture.” You struggled to not laugh.

“Guys,” Grover interrupted. “We have to get out of here. Kampê will be back and sooner or later she’s going to sense us in here.”

“Break the bars,” you nod to the creature. His hands start playing rock-paper-scissors, making no move to escape.

“Listen, what’s your name?” Said Grover.

The creature mumbled sadly, deflating visibly against the wall, slumping. “I am Briares.”

Percy leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Why is he not breaking out?”

You turn your head ever so slightly. “He’s just scared, I think. Imagine being imprisoned and tortured not once but twice?”

“I cannot,” Briares moaned. “Kampê will only punish me.”

“It’s alright!” Said Grover. “You’ve fought the Titans before, you can do it again!”

“I remember the war,” Briares’s face morphed into one of reminiscing. “Lightening shook the world. We tried hard. The Titans and the monsters almost won, and now they are close to doing so again. Kampê said so herself.”

You wave your dagger around flimsily as you talk. “What, and you just believe everything Kampê says, now? Come on, man! Get up. You can’t change anything if you don’t try.”

“That’s the spirit!” Cheered Percy. “Come on, Briares! You’ve got this!”

He didn’t move an inch.

“How about a game of rock-paper-scissors?” Voiced Percy lightly. You gave him an ‘are you crazy?’ look.

Briares’s face turned hopeful. “I always win rock-paper-scissors.”

Percy clapped his hands. The sound reverberated. “If I win, you come with us. If you win, you stay and rot in this cell. How about that?”

He agreed. There came a series of hands on palms, three times, and thanks to Briares’s hundred hands, it was like thunder rumbling. On three, he came up with an assortment of rocks, papers and scissors, enough for a school set. He shook his head sadly again. “I told you, I always—what is that?”

“A gun. Gun always wins.”

“That’s not fair!” Briares protested.

“I never said anything about fair,” smirked Percy. Kampê won’t be fair if we hang around. Now, get up, and let’s get out of here!”

Briares sniffled, but climbed to his feet. In one swift move, he reached out with his hands and ripped the bars right out. “Demigods are cheaters.”

You felt relief at finally moving again. That is, until you took the steps frantically, only to walk straight into Kampê, waiting at the bottom. She snarled at you, waiting. You backed up right into Grover, knocking him over.

“The other way,” said Percy.

Briares was more than happy to do this. In fact, he ran ahead, arms waving frantically at the sight of Kampê. You took the lead next, lungs burning, Grover and Percy right behind. The sound of giant wings took to the air above, and though she spoke in her ancient language, you didn’t have to understand it to understand her intentions. Through a corridor, down the stairs and out into another prison block, facing doorway after doorway. You faltered, skidding to a stop.

“Agh—that way!” You dove left, the boys close behind. Now in the prison yard, surrounded by security towers and old barbed wire, the bright sunshine blinded you. People milled idly, taking pictures of the building you emerged from. You turned, and lo and behold—“Alcatraz?!” You fumed. Over the edge, San Francisco stood proudly, in the North, dark clouds gathered over Mount Tamalpais, where Atlas held up the sky. You had a sudden, scary thought that that must be where the Titans were preparing. After all, nobody else would dare approach the area.

“Keep moving! She is behind us!”

To the far end of the yard, right up as the far wall exploded, raining dust and hard debris. Coughing as it pelted you, holding a hand out to the closest wall, you tried to wipe it from your face. People screamed all around.

Percy looked to you. Even covered in dry dust, his eyes were furiously bright, just like the green of the ocean on a clear day. “It’s your call,” he said.

“Run.” That was the end of the debate. Out the gates, emergency sirens blared. It was like something from a movie. A group of tourists stood by the Wharf, where a boat sat. Grover said you should take it.

“Too slow,” said Percy.

“We should go back into the maze.”

Across the yard, where you tripped on stray bricks, the wall to the cell block stood ripped open. Through the messed-up conundrum, you located the entrance to the maze. Briares ripped off the bars of your previous cell, but upon searching the wall for the mark of Daedalus, it came up smooth.

Grover reached high on the wall, for a tiny dent. Upon touching it, the indent changed shape and glowed. The wall opened up. Down the cell block, Kampê roared. She charged, but came up slow. As you were the last to dive into the maze, you watched as the wall closed up, and not a second too soon. Hot air cut off as the wall shut. You dug around your pockets for a flashlight, flicking it on.

The group moved through the maze, through a room purely made of waterfalls all leading into one large, slippery pit. The steps around it were covered in moss and dew; one wrong move and you’d fall and drown. When you shone the flashlight down the black pit, all you could see was murky, dark water, and not the bottom of the pit. Percy looked unsettled.

Briares slumped against a mossy wall along the steps. “This pit goes straight down into Tartarus,” he declared. “I should jump in now, and saw you demigods a lot of trouble.”

“Don’t think like that,” you sighed softly. “It’s not right. You could help with what’s coming.”

“I have nothing to offer,” he shook his head. “I have lost everything.”

“What about your brothers?” Asked Grover, offering logic. “Surely they’re still here. You could find them again.”

Briares offered only sadness and the sense of giving up. “They have faded. They are gone.”

Percy, a little irritated, clasped his hands. “What exactly do you mean they’re gone? Surely monsters are immortal like the gods.”

Grover said weakly, “Percy, even immortality has limits. Sometimes monsters are forgotten, and they lose their will to stay immortal. They grow tired.”

You only thought of Medusa, and her sisters having left her. As awful as she was, nothing could be worse than being alone and forgotten in the world. How cold it must be.

“I must go,” Briares stood.

“Kronos is going to take over the world!” Grover protested. He went to move, but looked at the waterfalls, and thought better of it. “Help us!”

“I cannot,” he hung his head. It was like watching a dying animal with nothing to help it. “I cannot, demigods. I do not have a finger gun to win this type of game.”

“Maybe that’s why you monsters fade,” Percy glared. “Because you give up on yourself. Not because mortals forget you.” Ouch.

Shame wrote all over his face. Without a word, Briares turned up the steps, where different paths had appeared. He took one at random and disappeared down the dark corridor.

You sighed, shrugging your backpack higher on your shoulders. “Come on, guys. I hate it in here. Let’s go find someplace to sit; I’m starving.”

In a marble corridor, with bronze torch holders lit and hanging from the walls, you settled against the wall. It reminded you very much of an old Greek tomb, and felt somewhat comfortable for the soul, like reattaching with a piece of yourself after so long. Chewing on a cereal bar, you said, “We’re probably close now. Hopefully. We’ll get going again in the morning.” If it was even night time, now.

“How do we know when it’s morning?”

You smiled. “When we wake up, Grover.”

He pulled a heap of straw from his bag and ate some, making the rest into a pillow. He was out like a light before you could say ‘goodnight’. Percy took a place a little away from you, further down the corridor from where you sat keeping watch. You dug out a thin book from your bag and read in the glow light from the walls, keeping your ears open and looking up every few seconds.

There’s a shuffle of Percy getting up and sliding down the wall beside you. You lay your book down on your knees.

“You should really get some sleep,” you tell him. “You’ll be exhausted, otherwise.”

“I can’t sleep. Are you doing okay?”

You eye the wall opposite. “Hm. I mean, besides being down here for a ton of time and not making any contributive progression to the quest? Sure.”

“Hey,” he reasoned softly. “You’re doing great. We’ll get to the workshop, I know we will.”

You sigh deeply, crossing your ankles out in front. “I know. I just wish it all made some sense, really. I mean, I thought that we could have a system and stick to it and get to the workshop and back as quick as possible. But everything keeps changing and none of my ideas are working out so…I mean, how have we travelled from state to state in a day or two? It doesn’t make sense. I thought I could do this. But really, Percy, I haven’t got a clue what I’m doing. I took a huge bite out of something that wasn’t meant for me, I think. I was kidding myself.”

“Look, if that was the case, the Oracle never would’ve given you the prophecy. She gave it to you because this was meant for you. Don’t doubt yourself, B, you’re doing great. And, besides, when do we ever really know what we’re doing? Like when we got led astray by the wood nymphs in Central Park—”

You bark an echoey laugh. “That was your fault!”

“And the time you got us thrown off that ride at Waterland?”

“Again, your fault!”

“See!” He laughed, knocking an outstretched leg into yours. “We’ll be okay. I promise.”

You smile, but Hera’s words suddenly do a loop in your head. “Percy…”

“Yes, B?” He tilts his head, thinking you’re going to say something funny. His face falters at your serious look.

“When Hera said you know how to get through this maze, was she telling the truth?” He opens his mouth. “Because if you know the way and you’re not telling me—”

“I don’t know what she was talking about,” he denies. “Honestly.”

You lift your brows at the front, knitting together. “You’d tell me if you did, wouldn’t you, though?”

“Of course I would. Just, maybe if…”

“Maybe what?”

“If you told me what the last line of the prophecy was, it might help.”

Being so busy in the maze had you forgetting that you’d kept that part of your prophecy a secret, not only to keep your panic at a low level, but everyone else’s, too. But maybe he’s right; you’d be admitting to something big, for you, but at the end of the day, if anything were to happen which you could prevent…

“…’Lose a love to worse than death’. That was the last line. Super cheery, huh?” You pick at a thread on your pants so you don’t have to look at him.

He sits silent for a minute. “‘Lose a love’ could be anyone, though, right? I mean…”

Your heart hammers away. You can’t look up but you know just the look he’ll have on his face. You both know which type of love the prophecy talks about. If he’s worried about Travis being the one, Travis isn’t here. And it certainly isn’t Grover.

Percy sighs quietly. “Oh…”

You chuckle. “Yeah, oh.”

“Is that why you were upset, in your cabin? That’s why you…asked for me to come, but worried about it…”

“Now do you see?” You shuffle, bringing your knees up to your chest again. You’ve just admitted that you love your best friend, and he’s oddly quiet about it. Maybe you’ve done the wrong thing. Maybe you ought to have kept your mouth closed. “I couldn’t imagine doing this without you, Percy, and clearly you’re a big part of this quest. I just don’t want anything bad to happen.”

“Nothing’s going to happen. To any of us. I promise.”

You smile unsurely. “You’re making a lot of promises, dude. That’s a bad idea.”

Running a hand through his dark, dark hair, Percy denies. “Not if I keep them. You should get some rest, anyway. You’re tired.”

You won’t say no to a bit of sleep, so you ball up a t-shirt from your bag and use it as a pillow, laying down with your back to the wall. Failing to fall asleep quick enough, you open your mouth into the darkness. “I’ve been having these dreams about Nico. I think he’s trying to raise the dead.”

He replies straight away. “Me too. I think he’s been using the tunnels for a lot longer than we have. That’s where he went in winter, when he disappeared. I think, anyway.”

You can’t imagine how scared he must be. You’re fifteen, and with your friends, but the terror down here is unlike anything else. It’s a constant, eery feel up your spine, like somebody really is walking on your grave.

You don’t think on it too heavily. You close your eyes, hand under your cheek, and sleep.

You began to grow agitated the more time went on. A quick breakfast of cereal bars and a small box of apple juice, and the three of you were back once again to rule the roost of the labyrinth. Or, you liked to think so, anyway.

Dead end after dead end, you eventually started to lose it. “Goddamn it! This doesn’t make sense!”

Grover, eating a roll of straw noisily, nodded in agreement. He watched you like he was watching a reality television meltdown episode. “My brain feels like it’s turned into water.”

You point at him with the end of your dagger unintentionally, making him yelp and scatter backward. “That. That is accurate. Now—why is it turning into wood?!” You followed the changing interior with your eyes, from stone into wooden beams and rock. “It should still be stone!”

Nonetheless, your group pressed on until the walls turned into a room full of sharp stalagmites and dark, dirt floor. Nothing stood out—besides the giant, silver foil wrapper just laying around. You leaned down to pick it up with the tips of your fingers, grimacing at the crumbs falling out.

“D’you think Nico was down here?”

Percy hummed. “Summoning the dead, still.”

“Smells like the dead down here,” Grover agreed, sniffing violently. “Definitely dead things.”

“Beautiful.” You crunched the wrapper in your hand. “Do you think we could use it to find Nico?”

“Like Hansel and Gretel?” Percy quipped, with a cheeky smile. Grover belched a laugh promptly. Boys. Irritation became you.

Despite their joking at the serious matter, you were grateful they’d managed to keep their cool, especially since you’d been slowly losing yours the longer you were down in the maze. You walked on ahead, footsteps oddly quiet with the vast nature of the space. Behind you, the boys laughed about some stupid to programme and Burger King, but their odd conversation was the least of your worries. Through the dark tunnel ahead, a single beam of light shone through from above, like the clouds in the sky would part and let light in from a distance. Something twisted in your gut, and the farther you grew from the boys’ jesting, closer to the grid of light, the stronger the feeling became. You’d guided the way on pure feeling, of what felt right and what felt terribly wrong. You couldn’t help feeling, now, that you’d made the right choice coming this way.

Standing under the pitch of light, looking up, your stomach lurched, and a full-body feeling that you’d done the right thing came over you. You could see trees, and bright-blue sky. No clouds, but a whole lot of sunshine. It felt warm. You were looking through a metal grate, and staring a red-color cow in the face.

A red cow?

You pulled a face, and pocketed your dagger in your backpack. Reaching as tall as possible on your tiptoes, you reached up for the grate, touching your fingers to the metal bars and pushing as far as you could. The cow moved along, thank goodness, because you were starting to think that the feeling in your stomach wasn’t that you were going the right way but actually because the sight of a red cow was ringing alarm bells (and mild nausea).

By the time Percy and Grover caught up to you, you’d managed to shift the grate over a little bit.

“What is it?” Percy breathed. “We thought you’d—”

“I think it’s a cattle-guard,” you cut him off. “Give me a boost, Percy. I’ve got a feeling we’re about to find Nico.”

“What’s a cattle-guard?” He asked, kneeling. Percy cupped his hands, and you placed your foot in it. As he boosted you up, you grabbed Grover’s shoulder and pushed, leaning to shove the guard out of the way. Your fingers brushed soft grass, and you almost melted.

“They put them at the gates of ranches,” explained Grover. “So the cows don’t escape. They can’t walk on them.”

“How’d you know that?” Really, Percy?

Grover huffed indignantly. “Trust me—if you had hooves, you’d know about it.”

Once your upper body is out, you shift your lower body out of the grate, elbowing your way out and across the grass. It’s warm and soft, and you could almost believe you were safe. If it weren’t for the bright-red cows, the color of cherries, roaming the place and eyeing you like you were a great source of minerals. For some reason, Hera’s visit plays on your mind. You reach down on your stomach for Percy, next, as he steps into Grover’s clasped hands and reaches for your arms. After he’s up, the two of you reach for Grover, who takes a jump at the opening while you both grasp his arms, yanking him out of the maze.

Grover wrinkled his nose, eyeing your surroundings. It might have been heavenly if not for the animals and the weird smell of manure. “Red cows? They’re sacred to Apollo, aren’t they?”

Percy barked a laugh. “Holy cows?”

Nodding, Grover clicked his fingers. “Exactly. But what are they doing out here?”

“Go ask one—”

Percy slapped a sweaty hand over your mouth. You almost gagged, and pried his hand away. He shook his head, and that’s when you heard it. Rustling, and tiny treads. Turning around, goosebumps rattling your skin, you came face-to-face with…

A dog.

But not any normal dog, because you weren’t that lucky. A two-headed dog.

You rolled your eyes so violently it hurt. Waving a hand to the dodgy dog, you sighed. “Just go back to the maze. Get in the maze. I can’t, really.”

"Hang on!" Percy held out his hand. "Didn't Hera say something about a farm?"

Ah. "I mean...she couldn't have meant one with freaky dogs and cows, could she?" Abnormal is normal in your world. Unfortunately, more likely than not, abnormal means you're on the right track. Its when things die down that you have to worry.

"Nico might be here," Percy reasoned. "Why don't we go ahead, take a look around, and if he isn't here we'll go back, inside the maze"

With a deflated sigh, you cast your eyes around the fields. Hills rolled, and rolled, and rolled as far as the eye could see, holding your hand up to shield your face from the sun. Cacti and boulders dotted around, and trees sprouted randomly, almost bare under the burning of the sun. Those red cows grazed on grass, mooing in the distance. You didn't like the feel of the ranch by any means, but you did feel that you were on the right track. Percy was right; Nico was here, at least nearby. What was the harm?

The dog growled behind you, you'd almost forgotten it was there. With a bark from both heads, it advanced, sniffing the air. It closely resembled a greyhound, thin and long with sleek, brown fur. It, obviously, did not appreciate seeing you on its farm.

And neither did its owner.

A tall, broad man came trudging from the same bushes the dog emerged from, wearing a straw cowboy hat and a tee that said 'Don't Mess With TEXAS'. He carried a huge wooden club sporting spikes bristling from the end against his muscular shoulder. His white hair lay messed from whatever work he was doing, and his mouth was curled in an impressed snarl.

All in all, a very good sign.

"Heel, Orthus," he grumbled. The dog whined but sat, paws held tight together.

You choked on your own breath. "Orthus?" You wrangled out.

Percy leaned in close, as if the man and his dog were not standing right there. "Is that a bad thing or just a really bad name for a dog?"

"This is Cerberus's brother!" You beamed shakily. "The lovely dog we met in the Underworld, remember?"

Gulping, Percy leaned back. "Ah."

The place really was a Greek past come back to haunt you. From ancient monsters to ancient greek ghosts, the party never ended. Maybe it was Luke's doing, releasing them back into the world Perhaps you just got unluckier the further you wewnt on this quest.

"What've we got here?" the man swung down his club. "Cow-pushers?"

"We're only passing through. Just travelling."

"We're on a quest," added Grover helpfully.

The man, who couldn't have been older than middle-age, raised a suspicious brow. "Oh yeah?" he said sardonically. You nodded your head frantically. Being under fire was the least of your concerns when the dog still sat there. "Half-bloods, eh?"

Percy scratched his head. "Could you tell?"

Dropping your hand on his arm, you back Percy up peacefully. Maybe an explanation will help. The man considers the three of you. "This is Percy, son of Poseidon. And Grover, the satyr. I'm a daughter of Athena-"

With a nod of his head, the man's mouth curved. "She the mediator?" He looked from Percy to Grover, completely blanking you. Humiliation pinched you. The man dropped all feelings of humour at your expense and glowered. The change was so sudden you couldn't help raising your hand to the strap of your backpack and feeling for your dagger, making sure it was still there. "I know what you are, half-bloods, because I am one. Surely if you know your legends you should know who I am, missy?" You were not offered a chance to guess. "Eurytion, the cowherd for this ranch. Son of Ares. And I'm guessin' you came through the maze like the other one."

"The other one?" questioned Percy. "Did he mention his name?"

"We get a lot of people come through the ranch," Eurytion uttered somewhat darkly. "Not a lot leave."

"Wow," drawled Percy. "I feel so incredibly welcome."

Eurytion looked over his shoulder like he was expecting someone. Then he turned back and lowered his voice. "I'll only say it once, demigods. You'd better get back inside that maze before its too late."

"Ha! Don't have to tell me twice." You make for the empty cattle-grid hole. A firm hand pulls around the strap of your backpack and stops you before you can jump down.

"We're not going anywhere," Percy said adamantly, "until we see this other half-blood you mentioned."

Eurytion grumbled. He set on past you, past Grover analysing him, and the move of Percy's grip from your bag to your hand, gently tugging you along after the man. "Then you've left me no choice. Should have listened to your girlfriend, here."

Percy spluttered, you stared mortified after the man. Grover shoved a hand at either of your back's to urge you along the way.

Despite his threatening nature, and unhappy expression, the dog at Eurytion's feet seemed relatively happy, diving in and out of bushes and around cacti, barking and springing around. Heat danced off the beaten path he led you down, going on for forever. A blister began to rub at the back of your heel, and before long you were shaking off your jacket, sweating like crazy. It dripped down your face and flies buzzed at your ears, so when you swiped them away every five seconds you closely resembled a crazy woman. At this point, it didn't feel far off. Every few yards, you passed by pens of the cherry cows, and weirder animals, like horses with zebra stripes in black and green, and lizards in cages with tiny little wings and bloodshot eyes that followed you. A fence held back horses in a pen, covered in spikes. At first, you wanted to take Eurytion's giant club and break them free, until you watched a couple breathe fire. The ground at their feet was dirty and charred somewhat, and their stack of hay was on fire.

Percy and Grover shared your reluctance for the animals. "What are they for?" asked Percy. Grover attempted to talk to them and recieved a billow of fire.

"We raise animals for lots of clients; The Lord Apollo, Diomedes, others..."

You draw your eyes to him. "Such as?" you drawl.

"No more questions!"

Your guide came to an end at the approach of a big, white house on an incline, all stone and beautiful windows. It might have been Victorian, judging by the porch trimming and the rose-tinted stained-glass front door.

"Don't break the rules," uttered Eurytion, quiet as ever. "No fightin'. No weapons. And no comments about the boss."

Up the steps, you snorted. "What's wrong with 'the boss'?"

Before he could reply, a new voice called out along the porch. "Aha! Welcome to the Triple G Ranch!"

Oh, sweet gods. At first glance, he seemed normal enough, if you took away the Sportacus-style moustache on his face. He had shiny black hair, and smiled individually at each of you. The wrong part of this was the three bodies.

You held back a gag. The nightmares would be neverending once you got out of here.

Eurytion nudged you. "Say hello to Mr. Geryon," he muttered.

Your voice failed you. Before anyone could do anything, the colored doors to the house flew open, a young voice calling out. After so many months, hearing him was like a breath of fresh air. You could breathe, because Nico was here. Black hair in flat tendrils brushed his brown eyes, a very pale face and small nose scrunching, eyeing the labelled jar in his hands. You forgot, almost, how young Nico really was, but he was here, wandering the maze alone.

You stepped forward, the porch creaking. "Nico?"

It grew silent, but quickly changed. Nico threw the jar to the ground, and it smashed to tiny, tiny pieces. Drawing his sword, he angled it almost instantly at your throat, a fierce expression on his face. The sword he pointed at you was short, extremely sharp-edged, and black, some sort of iron you hadn't seen before. Was it a gift from Hades, you wondered?

Geryon yelled when he saw it. "Put the sword away, Mr. di Angelo. I will not have my guests killing each other."

Nico's face dropped, eyes wide. "But..."

Geryon threw down the skewers he was holding. They clattered against the metal grate of the barbecue he cooked at. You jumped. "I know who they are!"

"They let my sister die! They're here to kill me, too!"

"Nico!" astonished, you reached out your hands, but he shoved away, a terrible hatred in his eyes. "We want to help you, not hurt you. Bianca was an accident—”

“Don’t say her name!” He yelled. There was such an act of anger in his voice. “You’re not even worthy of talking about her! You killed her!”

“Hey!” Barked Percy, approaching behind. “That’s not fair. It’s—hang on, how do you know who we are?”

Geryon winked. “It’s my business to know of everyone who passes by the ranch, sonny. Everyone who comes this way wants something, you see. Now, Mr. di Angelo, put away the damned sword before I have Eurytion take it from you.”

Very reluctant, Nico sheathed his sword. If he weren’t a hell of a lot shorter than you, the boy might have been looking down his nose to you. “If any of you come near me, I’ll summon help. And trust me, you don’t want me to do that. Got it?”

So demanding. To keep the peace, you nodded once. “Yeah. Sure. That’s fine.” If you looked compliant to Nico’s demands, you stand a better chance of him leaving the maze with you.

Geryon approached heavily and clapped a hand on Nico’s shoulder. You wanted nothing more than to pull the young boy away from him. “There, there. We’ve all made nice. Come along folks, I wanna give you a tour of the ranch!”

You weren’t sure what to expect when he said tour, but a ride in a small two-cart and car mobile was not it in the slightest. The carts were painted black and white in a cowhide pattern, a bell dancing back and forth from the ceiling of the car cab.

“Damn,” you huffed, climbing up after Grover and settling heavily into the seat. “I was hoping for a Mercedes.” He snorted after you. “Never-less, we ride in style.”

The dire cart lurched forward, its gold bell ringing above. Geryon pointed out different animals and pens, chugging along the hills. You couldn’t help enjoying it somewhat, able to take the humour from the situation after a stressful few days. You pointed out some sheep with shaggy black hair and eight pudgy legs, like spiders. They walked in a line like Capybaras, round and round the pen. Past horses with wings but not Pegasus. Their wings were scarlet, and fluffy.

“Do they lay eggs?” Asked Grover, leaning forward to squint at the animals.

“Once a year!” Geryon called over his shoulder. You couldn’t help feeling sorry; the animals didn’t look too happy. “They’re very in demand, lately. The omelettes are spectacular!”

“That’s cruel!” Cried Grover, sitting back with hunched shoulders.

“Gold is gold,” Geryon waved off, a mean grin taking place. “And, you haven’t tasted the omelettes. Hush.”

“That’s not right,” Grover muttered. Geryon continued his narrated tour with the sun beating down. You wished you packed sunscreen as your cheeks began to itch.

“Now, over here are the fire-breathing horses. You probably saw ‘em on your way up here. They’re bred for war, fightin’, if you couldn’t tell.”

“What war?” Asked Percy.

You didn’t like his sly face. “Oh, you know, whichever comes around. And over there are the prized red cows.”

“There’re so many!” Grover peered.

“Yes, well. Dear Apollo is too busy to see them,” he sneered. “He subcontracts to us. We breed them vigorously; there’s such demand as of late.”

“That’s not dodgy at all.”

“Demand for what?” Pried Percy tensely.

“Food, of course.” Duh, Percy, it sounded like. “Armies gotta eat.”

You hum. “So, if I’m getting this right, you kill the sacred cows of a god for burger meat? I swear that’s against some laws, man.”

“Lordy, girl! Don’t get so worked up! They’re just animals.”

Grover almost had a fit. “Just animals?!”

“Yes. If Apollo cared, he would let us know.”

“That’s if he knows,” you fold your arms, putting your feet up on the side of the cart. Geryon met your eye in the mirror—if looks could kill.

A little voice cried from the back cart. Nico. “We had business to discuss, Geryon, and this isn’t it!”

“All in good time, di Angelo,” he mused. He hooted. “Look over here; my exotic possessions.”

The field now was crawling with scorpions, the giant, creepy ones that originally backed you and Percy into the maze. They snapped and clacked, and tried pinching at the fence as you passed.

“Triple G Ranch! Your mark was on the crates at camp. Quintus got his scorpions from you!”

“Quintus?” Geryon shrugged. “Short, grey hair, muscular?”

“Yeah,” said Percy.

“Never heard of ‘im.”

Something cold spread in your chest. Realisation, almost. “Oh,” you shivered. “Hang on. Quintus knew about the maze the whole time, then. He’s been going in and out for who knows how long trading monsters. We’ve been trying to figure out how the maze works, but the loser’s known this whole time!” Grover whispered for you to quieten down, but you couldn’t. Because if Quintus knew about the maze, knew where the ranch was and how to get to it, and back out again, who could say he hadn’t done it before. Who could say he hadn’t led Luke and the army into the maze, and who was to say he wasn’t guiding them. He hadn’t protested your quest. Just what the hell was he playing at?

“Now, to your left you’ll see the very best the ranch has to offer!”

The ‘very best’ turned out to be a terrible state of a stables, containing horses just mulling around in their own…you know what. Sitting beside a giant, green-tinged river, the stables had to be the most disgusting display of very best you ever set your eyes on. From the back of the cart, Nico gagged loudly at the smell.

“What the hell is that?!”

Geryon smiled proudly. “My stables! Well, technically we house the horses for a small fee. Aren’t they just…” he inhaled deeply, “beautiful.”

Percy scoffed, and Grover yelled out. “They’re disgusting! How can you even keep innocent animals like that?”

Geryon slammed a palm down on the cart. You didn’t jump this time; you expected it. “Y’all are getting on my damn nerves. These are flesh-eating horses. They like these conditions!”

“Have you asked them?” You tapped your fingers on your thigh.

“It’s in their nature,” Geryon ground through clenched teeth. “They love it.”

“Plus, you’re too cheap to have them cleaned out,” came a voice beneath Eurytion’s hat.

Geryon snapped. “Quiet, now! Alright, perhaps the stables are challenging to keep on top of. Maybe they do make me feel nauseous. And what? I still get paid.”

There were many words you could have used to describe Geryon: cheap, distasteful, creepy, rude. The fitting word in this case, given his prideful and clearly narcissistic nature, was…

“You’re a monster.”

Geryon stopped the cart. Grover let out a sad sigh, watching the horrible man turn in his seat. He met your gaze. “What gave it away, sweetheart? Was it the three bodies?”

You rolled your eyes and looked away, slouching down the seat as if it would get the attention off of you. “Don’t be condescending. I’m only telling the truth.”

His nostrils flared, hot-tempered. “My clients appreciate it. I do good work, here.”

You let out a sudden laugh sitting upright. “Is one of these ‘clients’ Kronos, at all?” Percy whispered your name warningly. “You just supply his army, don’t you?”

Geryon shrugged and confirmed it without words. “I work for anyone who can pay.” He climbed out of the cart and took a leisurely stroll toward the stables, as if he hadn’t just confirmed he was working with Kronos. A tiny figure scampered after him, and a much bigger one—Eurytion—after him.

“We really need to grab Nico and get out of here.”

Grover nodded in agreement. “How, though? I might be wrong but he doesn’t really seem to want to come with us.”

“Anyone got snacks left? Maybe we can bribe him with food.”

“He isn’t a dog,” snickered Percy. “We just need to get close enough and then run.”

“We’re not kidnapping a kid, Percy.”

“I came here for business!” Nico screamed from the stables side. “And you haven’t answered me!”

Geryon reached out and plucked up a handful of cactuses like they were soft teddies. “You’ll get a deal, all right.”

Nico’s tiny figure got right in Geryon’s personal space. “My ghost told me you’d help! He said you could guide us to the soul we need.”

You groaned. “He has a personal ghost assistant now?” Laying your head back against the wood, you watched Percy, grappling with something internally. His face twisted, then he nodded his head.

“I think it’s Minos.”

Grover spluttered, hooves clattering on the cheap floor of the cart. “As in, King Minos? Dead Minos?”

“I haven’t heard of anyone else called Minos…”

You exhale slowly. “Damn, I thought I was the soul Nico wanted. Y’know, after what happened to Bianca.”

In a tiny voice, Percy murmured, “Me, too.”

“You thought Nico wanted my soul and didn’t say anything about it?”

“Apparently so.”

“Can you help me or not?!” Nico cried.

Geryon shrugged. “Oh, I could. Your ghost friend; where is he?”

Nico struggled, looking uneasy. “He can’t appear in broad daylight. But he’s around somewhere.”

Geryon nodded slowly, watching Nico’s reactions. “I figured. Typical Minos, always disappearing when things get difficult.”

Nico stepped back, right into Eurytion. “What do you mean by difficult?”

“You see, Nico, Luke Castellan is offering a bit of money for half-bloods, especially powerful ones like you and Percy, over there. When Luke learns just who you are, Nico, you’ll be priceless! He’ll pay…very well, to put it lightly.”

In a flash Nico drew his sword, but Eurytion grabbed it with a strong hand and threw it from his grip. You jumped up in an instant and pulled your dagger, only to be thrown down back in the seat by a strong force and a snap of snarling jaws. Geryon laughed heartily. “I’d stay in the car, you guys! Or Orthys will tear out your friend’s voice box! So, Eurytion, could you please secure Nico and take the sword. I do hate Stygian iron.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, you absolute fool!”

Eurytion picked up Nico in one strong arm, kicking and flailing, and the sword in his free hand. Geryon turned and clapped his hands, pleased. “So, let’s go back to the house, hm? We can have lunch and send a message to our friends in Kronos’s army. Once Nico has been delivered, you three are free to go! I have been paid for your safe passage, which does not include Mr. di Angelo, I’m afraid.”

“Paid by who?” Threw Grover.

“Never you mind!” He snapped, then calmed. “Let’s go, then.”

“Wait!”

You wanted to tell Percy to shut up and let you make the plans, because you’d gotten this far. But the dog still had you pinned down, and smelled so bad you could scarcely breathe without wanting to heave.

“You said you’re a businessman,” said Percy. “So make me a deal. I’ve got something better than gold.”

Geryon mulled over this. “Mr. Jackson, you have nothing.”

“You could have him clean the stables,” offered Eurytion not-so-helpfully.

Percy jumped at the chance. “I’ll do it! If I fail, you get all of us. You can give us to Luke.”

“That’s assuming the horses don’t think you’re a bite to eat.”

“Either way, you’ll get my friends! But if I succeed, you have to let us all go, and Nico!”

“No!” Screamed Nico ungratefully. “I don’t want your help, Percy!”

Geryon laughed mirthlessly. “Percy, the stables have not been cleaned in years. Though I could probably sell more space if they’re cleaner…”

“So what have you got to lose?”

Idiot boy.

Eurytion stared at the sun and nodded. “Okay. I’ll accept your offer. But if you fail, your friends are sold off and I get rich.”

“Deal.”

Eurytion rubbed his hands together greedily. “I’ll take your friends back up the hill with me. They can wait for you there.” He whistled, and the dog on your lap jumped away from you and onto Grover’s feet.

Percy climbed out of the cart and rounded to your side, sitting up. He was red in the face from the heat of sitting under the sun in jeans, and the pressure of making a terrible deal. He locked eyes with you.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, here.”

“I hope so, too.” His hand slipped from the edge of the cart.

“Sunset!” Geryon instructed. “No more time after that.”

You left Percy by the lake under the hot, hot sun.

taglists

@bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore

@rottenstyx @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual

@marshmallow12435 @lantsovheiress @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol

@twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore @padsfirewhisky

@emu281 @charlesswife @jessiegerl

@tojismassivemantiddies @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @nothankyou138

@obxstiles @mxltifxnd0m @cxcilla @itzjustj-1000 @sp00kcanwrite

71 notes · View notes