#but what if Odette was GONE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

littlemissmentallyunstable · 3 months ago

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title: the dancer and the angel part 2

pairing: grayson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: lyra kane is closer to your boyfriend than ever seen as grayson has just been put of her team in the grandest game and it’s making you a little nervous, you don’t trust her and you don’t want her too close to him

parts: part 1 part 3 part 4

warnings: mild swearing, SPOILERS FOR TGG

a/n: I had quite a few requests for a part 2, so here she is… trying to get into my productive era right now (fake it till you make it right??)

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @lxvebelle @xoxo-vee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234

RECAP

“Whose team is he on?” I say quickly.

“Odette Morales and Lyra Kane.”

***

Lyra Kane. Lyra Kane. Lyra Kane. The name rattles around my brain, echoing off of my skull, only to replay in my mind again. Of course it just has to be Lyra Kane that he’s on a team with. That breathtaking woman with beauty that shouldn’t be possible for a human. Yeah, that Lyra Kane. I feel like laughing and crying all at the same time, so I express nothing instead. Why did it have to be her? Out of all of the players.

I’m not jealous, I try to convince myself, I’m just concerned. Yes, that’s it. Except it isn’t and the only person I’m lying to is pathetic little old me. I am ferociously jealous. It scolds me torturously, raging from the pit of my stomach, crawling under my skin to settle comfortably.

Grayson loves me, I know this. I felt the kisses we’d shared on the beach moments before he’d gone into the stupid house. They still linger on my lips now, I could taste him slightly, I’d heard him say he loved me, only me and yet I can’t get the feeling out of my system. The jealousy always manages to seep its way back in. I’m sick with a disease called envy.

I don’t want to be the jealous girl, the possessive one that people roll their eyes at or avoid. That’s not me. I didn’t want it to be me. But deep down I’m petrified that that’s who I’m becoming. I sigh, realising I was just going to have to swallow it. What could I do about it now? Besides I know Grayson, I trust Grayson. He wouldn’t let her try anything on, would he?

***

Hours of waiting and not watching. We couldn’t see the players at all. Or hear them. Anxiety is killing me slowly from the inside out, gnawing happily at my organs. I spin the ring on my middle finger as my leg jigs up and down, counting down the seconds until sunrise, four-thousand one-hundred and eight-two to go.

“You know you don’t have to look so panicked all the time,” Nash sighs, slumping down beside me.

“I’m not panicked,” I say, forcing a laugh.

“Sure darlin’,” he says, “my name’s Roger and I have a pet turtle.”

I roll my eyes, fighting the urge to smile, “I mean it, I’m fine.”

“It’s completely safe in there, we designed it that way,” he explains slowly, soothingly, “no one’s going to get hurt and there’s an emergency button just in case.”

“Okay,” I nod, exhaling.

I don’t believe him and his words don’t offer me much comfort. My overthinking brain is currently listing all of the ways Grayson could possibly die in the next ten minutes. But Nash is trying and I’m thankful to have him.

“At least pretend you’re convinced,” he drawls, a twinkle in his eyes.

Maybe I’m not convinced that everything’s going to be fine but I am convinced Nash has a sixth sense called ‘big brother knows all’ because for some reason he always knew everyone’s thoughts and feelings, even when they were trying to hide it. Either that or he’s a mind reader.

“I am,” I tell him, as convincingly as I could muster, “everything’s going to be fine.”

“Shit!” Jameson yells from across the room, perfect timing as per usual.

“What?” I hear Avery ask quickly.

“The powers gone out,” he says, smacking the table so hard I didn’t know how he didn’t break a bone.

“What do you mean the powers gone out?” I say, standing up and walking over.

“I mean they have no light, no heaters and they ate completely locked in by the mechanisms,” he explains, gesturing to the blank screens.

“We’ve lost all connection to them as well,” Xander murmurs, eyes darting from left to right at each and every screen.

“Everything?” I exclaim, trying not to get over-anxious and failing miserably.

“Yes,” Jameson confirms.

“You’re panicking her,” Nash scolds him.

“Well she asked I’m not going to lie,” he defends.

“Not the time to argue guys,” Avery rolls her eyes, getting back to the computer. Jameson follows her lead, trying to reconnect the lost signals.

“Shit shit shit,” he groans as more things shut off. He slams his hands down on the keyboard and starts guessing random buttons, “Xand help me out here,”

“Don’t you worry, dearest brother,” Xander replies calmly, “I’m working on it.”

Silence hits us like the dead. We’re all intently staring up the layers and layers of code coming up on the several screens. I can’t understand any of it.

“This is Python,” Jameson points at one of the scenes.

“Yeah and this is Java,” Xander nods, “but I have no clue what this is.”

“Shit,” Jameson curses, running a hand through his hair, reminding me of Grayson when he was overstimulated.

“Not yet,” he replies, turning to the other Hawthorne brother present, “Nash do you remember when I was in fifth grade-“

“The de-coder book?” he says before Xander even finishes.

“Please,” he nods sharply.

“Got it,” he replies, rushing out of the room.

“Do you have any idea what they’re talking about?” I whisper to Avery

“Absolutely none,” she shrugs, looking as clueless as me offering me some comfort.

“Who would even cut the power?” Jameson asks to nobody in particular.

Avery and I share a look. I already know we’re thinking the same thing.

“Grayson is in there, does she know that?” I ask quickly.

“I don’t know,” she replied, chewing the inside of her cheek

“She?” Jameson interrupts. We both ignore him.

“Don’t you think he’ll be her prime target,” I say, the worry warping my tone a little in a way that made me sound a little too vulnerable for my liking.

“Target?” Jameson says. We ignore him, again.

“Most likely, if it is her,” Avery sighs, tapping her bottom lip melodically.

Jameson looks at Xander, baffled, “are they speaking in code?”

“I’m kind of concentrating right now Jamie, please don’t talk to me,” he responds, not taking his eyes off of the computer screens as he attempts to decode.

“Who are you talking about?” Jameson raises his voice a little, forcing me and Avery to address his question.

“This could be Eve,” Avery says softly.

“Eve?” Xander says, freezing mid-type and actually lifting his head up.

“No surely not,” Jameson shakes his head in denial.

“Think about it,” I say, “who else can you think that would want go sabotage this game?”

“Anyone who fancies a good bit of money,” he states, “and it could be nothing at all.”

“A power cut isn’t nothing,” I argue.

“I hate to agree the circumstance,” Avery exhales, “but it’s true, this feels like a threat of sorts.”

“And we can’t contact the players meaning anything could happen right now,” I say, worry bleeding into my voice.

Jameson’s face softens.

“But they’re locked in,” Nash points out, sauntering back in, “no one is getting in or out, that means they can’t be hurt.”

He hands the decoding book to Xander who frantically flips through the pages to find something in particular.

“Windows can be smashed,” I point out.

“You think whoever this is would risk smashing a window,” Nash asks, with his eyebrows raised.

“I don’t know how these people work,” I snap, throwing my hands up in the arm.

“You’re shaking,” he says softly.

I look up to see my shaking limbs. Immediately they drop to my sides and I desperately try to still them, “no I’m not-“

“Breathe a little okay, Gray will be fine,” he reassures me, his tone placid, as he delicately takes my shaking hands between his.

“Look as long as they all stay put no one should get hurt,” Avery says calmly, “the glass on the windows are double glazed and harder to smash than the average window, that is if they’re going to risk that.”

“Besides Xander’s on it,” Jameson adds.

Xander sticks a thumb into the air, still audibly tapping the keyboard with the other, “whoever did this is incredibly skilled at hacking and annoyingly so,” he mutters in reply.

No one talks. We are all just stood in silence, barely daring to breathe not wanting to break Xander’s concentration. Mine and Avery’s hands are intertwined, gripping the others so tightly that our fingers are white. Xander is frantic. He’s practically sweating as he types quickly and clicks buttons I didn’t even know existed. And just when it seemed like he might be getting somewhere more and more boxes of undeciphered code popped up. I’m close to being hopeless when Xander leans back in his seat.

“We’re back up and running,” Xander announces, “lights, buttons, connections, locks, everything.”

Avery and I squeal, hugging each other tightly. Relief floods through my body and I’m giddy with it. Xander stands up and breathes out slowly.

I kiss his cheek in affection and gratitude, platonically, “thank you Xander.”

“You’re welcome,” he says.

“I owe you a scone,” Jameson tells with a slap on the back.

“That, you do,” he nods with a wide grin.

“What do we tell the players?” Nash asks, reminding us that the game is still going and the players will be wondering what the hell just went on.

“Do we tell them the truth?” Xander asks.

“We don’t even know the truth,” Jameson tells him.

“Then we tell them what we know,” Avery says, “Nash?”

“You got it kid,” he nods.

Xander slides an arms around me.

“Sorry ‘bout that folks,” Nash drawls through the microphone, “brief technical snafu on our end, but we’re back. You still have sixty three minutes until dawn. As long as at least one team makes it down to the dock by the deadline, the rules still stand.”

It’s fine, everything will be fine. Three thousand seven hundred and eighty seconds left. I rest my head on Xander’s shoulder and he puts his head on mine. I think he’s the only thing that’s holding me up at the moment. If he weren’t I’m pretty sure my body would be some sort of odd shaped puddle of consumed thoughts on the carpet. Only one sentence goes through my head, over and over and over. I can’t wait to have my arms around Grayson again.

***

It’s almost sunrise when we make our way to the dock so we’ll be there for when the players make it out. If they make it out. I walk in between Xander and Nash, trying to keep up with their obscenely large leg strides. Avery and Jameson lead the way holding hands. My heart squeezes, it won’t be too long before I see Grayson again. I know it seemed stupid, we had only been apart for a few hours, but those hours had felt like weeks given all of the events that had taken place. Not to mentioned the long prolonging wait of which I couldn’t see or hear him.

And there was still something going around in my head. Something about him being with Lyra Kane for this long in such close proximity. It was grating at me, but I push the feelings down and bury them under a mound that I’m trying to ignore.

“Want to have a bet?” Xander ruffles my hair, stealing me from being consumed by my own thoughts.

I slap him away, “I’ve heard it’s dangerous to wager with a Hawthorne.”

“What’s my brother been telling you?” he asks.

“Mum’s the word,” I wink back, tapping my nose.

“What’s your bet on little brother?” Nash asks.

“What team will make it first,” Xander grins, mischievous glint in his eye.

His brotehr grins towards the sky, “had a feeling it might be.”

“I’m bias then,” I scoff.

“Okay so your Hearts,” Xander says.

“Hang on I never agreed to this bet,” I exclaim, holding my hands up to surrender.

“Whoever wins gets a scone,” he bribes me.

“That only benefits you,” Nash points out.

“Actually I would also benefit, I like scones,” I smile sheepishly,

“See? Who are you voting Nash?” Xander asks.

“I’ll go with Clubs, I’m rooting for Gigi,” Nash shrugs.

Xander nods, “that means I’m going with Diamonds.”

“You don’t have to,” I tell him.

“Yes I do, otherwise it’s uneven,” he says. I wasn’t going to argue.

“Who would your original vote gone to?” I ask.

He smiles at me, a cheeky glint in his eyes, “no one shall ever know.”

“What are you three wittering about,” Jameson says, interrupting the train of conversation as he turns around.

“Probably something better than the lovesick whispers you two are sharing,” Xander teases.

“Xand-“

The thumping of footsteps cut him off. It’s a race. Hearts and Diamonds are out. Savannah is the fastest, Rohan hot on her heels. Though Lyra takes them both over in a matter of seconds. She must be a runner. Would explain the to-die-for figure. Grayson is close behind her thought Odette trailed behind slightly, but for a woman of her age she’s doing remarkably well. They all arrive within milliseconds of each other, breathless and rosy-cheeked.

“Congratulations Diamonds and Hearts, you’ve made it,” Avery smiles.

“Where’s Clubs?” Savannah asks, its only then I notice how her longs blonde hair has been chopped off unevenly. It makes her look even colder than before, sending a chill down my spine

“Still playing,” Jameson says.

“Gray,” I breathe in relief, as he takes me into his arms.

Something about the hug feels unnatural maybe even slightly uncomfortable, but I brush it off. We’d both been awake for far too long. I couldn’t trust my judgement on this little sleep.

“You okay?” I murmur into his shoulder.

“Fine,” he replies, so only I can hear him.

“Good.”

It hit sunrise and something sinks in my stomach. Clubs haven’t made it. Gigi is out of the game. This is going to destroy her. We all wait in silence. All knowing Clubs have failed, all knowing the disappointment we’d have to see on their faces. My heart is thumping loudly in my chest, I can hear it in my ears. I grip onto Grayson’s hand tightly. I catch Lyra’s honey golden eyes. She looks me up and down as I narrow my eyes at her. I can’t read her body language towards me, it was difficult to make out what she was thinking or feelings. I turn away and try not to think too much of it.

There’s sound coming from the left of us and in the distance there are three figures. Everyone’s eyes snap to the three remaining players who’s hearts are probably all sinking in realisation that they were nit longer players in this game. Then I notice what’s in Knox’s arms or rather who… Knox is carrying a bleeding Gigi. My stomach twists. Grayson freezes beside me.

“Put her down,” Grayson says sternly, his voice commanding authority.

Immediately Knox gently places Gigi down, making sure she was stable before he completely let go. We rush to her side immediately. Grayson putting a protective arm around her shoulder, his eyes flitting between the gash on her head and her face.

“Oh god Gigi,” I murmur tentatively touching her bloodied head to assess how severe it is.

“I’m fine,” she winces, blinking back tears.

“You are not,” Grayson says, his voice hard almost empty, “you’re injured Gigi.”

“Who among us is not occasionally concussed?” she says happily.

“Our team is out of the game, go ahead say it we’be been eliminated,” Knox says turning to Avery.

She ignores him and approaches Gigi, “are you okay?”

She nodded with a smile laced with the pain he thought she could hide. Maybe it was invisible to the others, but not to me. I’ve been under the same mask she’s trying to hide behind now. I understand. Grayson keeps his arm around her and I keep my hand in hers. She squeezes my palm and I squeeze hers back. I’m here, I wanted to scream, I’m here for you.

“Diamonds and Hearts, you’re onto the next phase of the game. Clubs… there’s always next year,” Avery finally brings herself to say.

“Once a player, always a player,” Jameson adds.

***

I don’t leave Gigi’s side until Nash has patched her up properly. ‘Stay with her, please,’ Grayson had murmured after we’d shared a quick kiss. He’d had something to discuss back at the dock with Odette. And Lyra. So I did, I stayed by Gigi’s side through every wince, every hand squeeze, every stitch.

“All patch up darlin’,” Nash nods, tipping his cowboy hat towards her slightly.

“Thanks,” she smiles brightly, it’s an unnatural fluorescent brightness that she radiated. Too bright, too artificial.

“You feeling okay?” I make sure, looking at her head.

“Fine,” she replied, gently feeling over her stitches.

Before anyone can say anything else there is a sharp knock at the door interrupting the thread of conversation. Nash answers. Brady walks in. Something was off about that guy. I got a bad feeling when I was around that guy. Nash gets up to leave and as much as I want to stay, it’s not my place to and I know that.

“Holler if you need anything,” Nash tells Gigi.

“We’re not going far,” I reassure her.

“Don’t worry about me,” she beams up at me, though the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “really I’m fine.”

“I think we both know that’s a lie,” I say, my voice so low I’m not sure if she can hear me.

The way her eyes soften, revealing an ounce of vulnerability, indicates she has, “can we talk later? Maybe on the boat back?”

“Of course we can,” I say, squeezing her hand in mine one last time, before standing up to leave her to talk to Brady.

She nods with a small smile which I return, then turn to follow Nash who’s holding eye contact with Brady intensely. As soon as we’re out of the room and a few paces down the corridor Nash blurts out, “I don’t trust him.”

“Neither do I,” I grimace, at least someone else had picked up on Brady’s sketchy vibes, “he gives me a weird feeling.”

“Same here kid,” he nods in reply, then pauses slightly before saying, “you go and find Gray, I’ll be close by if she needs me.”

I fumble over my words. How did he know again? He has to be some sort of mind reader. I make a mental note to discuss it with Xander.

“Are you sure?” I ask quietly.

“I’m sure,” he says, placing a brotherly hand in my shoulder, “I know you’re still worried, you’re horrible at hiding it.”

“Thanks Nash,” I chuckle, brushing hair out of my face,

“No worries kid,” he says, shooting me a lopsided grin as I rush off to reunite with Grayson.

***

The boat left for the mainland at noon, that was when Gigi, Knox and now Odette were leaving, as she traded her place for Brady’s. But the players had been told to try and get some rest before the next phase. I’d also been up all night and could feel myself growing tired, so Grayson and I were currently laying on our bed in each other’s arms. It feels nice to finally breathe a little. I don’t feel the weight of stress from my jealousy or guilt or worry, I just feel normal.

“Do you think Gigi will be okay,” I murmur into Grayson.

“Nash is used to patching up our ailments,” he responds, his tone a little distant. It made me iffy.

“Yeah but I mean after being cast out of the game,” I reply, “I know I wouldn’t feel great if I were in her position.”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, blowing out a short breath.

“I’m worried about her,” I say quietly.

“Me too,” he whispers, “I’m really worried about her.”

“I think we’re going to talk later,” I tell him, hoping it might provide himnwith some sort of solace.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I confirm, “I hope she might get whatever it is that’s hurting her off of her chest.”

“Make sure she’s okay for me, okay?” he makes sure, “no matter what.”

“Of course,” I say, a little confused. Why had he said it like that? Like something bad might happen? Like I might lose him? I brush off the feeling. I put it down to overreacting, as usual.

We fall into a long silence as I trace different shapes on chest with my finger tip. I slowly drag it along, with no specific shape in mind. A blank expression is present on his face and I can see he’s deep in thought. There’s something on his mind and I have a horrible feeling it has something to do with the unseen, unheard happenings of the grandest game.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask him, doe-eyed.

“Hmmm nothing,” he says, refusing to look me in the eye.

“You sure?” I press on.

“I’m sure,” he says, planting a kiss on my forehead.

The kiss was off and I could see something was bothering him but he didn’t want to tell me, I’d wait until he was ready. Even if it were forever.

“What was it like in there?” I ask, attempting to change the subject, “the game.”

“It really was the grandest game,” he whispers, “like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.”

“Really?”

“They outdid themselves thoroughly,” he says.

“I bet,” I nod, nuzzling further into him affectionately.

“You really couldn’t hear or see anything the whole time?” he asks, a hint of worry delicately woven into his tone. It was so brief you would’ve missed it if you didn’t know him. But I know Gray.

“Nothing, it was like hell,” I say with a small tired laugh, “it was killing me that I had no clue if you were okay.”

“I was fine,” he replied quickly, almost curtly.

“Well I know that now,” I yawn and feel my eyes begin to close slowly but I fight to keep them open.

“You’re tired,” Grayson says, the ghost of a smile faintly touching his lips.

I shake my head in denial, “no I’m not,” I protest, “not even a little bit.”

“Go the sleep love,” he whispers.

“I want to talk to you though,” I pout, rubbing my eyes.

“We‘ll have plenty of time tomorrow,” he says, playing with my hair.

“Okay,” I murmur, letting myself fall into a dimension of much needed sleep, finally with my love back in my arms.

***

I wake up in the middle of darkness, though there is light desperately trying to make it through the black out blinds. I wonder how long I’d been asleep for, it couldn’t be past noon though. I’m aware of the coldness on the other side of the bed. Grayson wasn’t there. It wasn’t exactly uncommon. Usually when we were home, if it were the early hours he would either be swimming or having a wander and a read to make himself tired again.

I hear the door handle turn slowly and the sound of his all too familiar footsteps hitting the floor. I crawl out of bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, as I make my way toward him. Though as I do he stands still, frozen, like he can’t move. Concern latches onto my throat.

“Are you okay?” I whisper, tentatively touching his arm.

He recoils away quickly, like I’ve hit a tender nerve or a bruise of sorts.

“Are you hurt?” I ask worriedly

“No,” he murmurs, his voice stone cold.

It hurts a little more than it should, he’s never usually so blunt, so cutthroat. Not with me anyway.

“Where have you been?” I say, fishing for an honest reply.

He meets my eyes for the first time. Swimming in endless pools of grey is a mournful sorrow, “I’m sorry.”

His voice cracks. Grayson’s voice never cracks.

“Gray?” I say in a ghost of the whisper, the word not even feeling real once it is said. My pulse quickens suddenly and a large lump that I cannot swallow forms in my throat.

He’s pale, his face is regretful. Hollow. Lifeless. My heart sinks. I already know.

“Tell me,” I say, my voice shaking nearly breaking like weak houses in an earthquake.

He shakes his head glossy eyed, “I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, I never meant for it to happen, I-“

“Tell me,” I grit through my teeth trying to prevent the thick emotion building up in my chest from overflowing.

There is a long pause. A deadly silence that seemed to last for days.

He parts his lips and utters the words, “I kissed her.”

It’s like a masked killer has dragged me from the comfort and safety of my own bed in the middle of the night, taken me into the thick of the wood where the vegetation is overgrown and no one will ever hear you scream. The part where it’s hard to see the sky or tell day from night and where no birds sing. And once we’re there, he takes a sharpened knife, laced with the most excruciating poison and slowly opens the left side of my chest, carefully ripping out my beating heart full of blood to destroy in his hands at his leisure. Grinning as her leaves my broken body to bleed out, dying heartless and lifeless. It’s like the person under that mask is Grayson. The one person I put all of my love and trust into. The one person who I thought would saved me from the masked killer is the masked killer. What a fucking joke.

“Who?” I ask, my tone low, dangerous, angry, “who did you kiss? I want to hear you say it.”

“I kissed Lyra,” he whispers, tears rolling down his cheeks, a state I’d never witnessed him in before. But right now I’m too broken to care.

My heart shatters into a million pieces on the spot. And then I am numb with agony.

a/n: so that was a fun ending :) hope you enjoyed part 2 my loves <33 and thanks to everyone who requested it, I’m sorry it took me so long to get around to it

NOTE I DONT THINK GRAYSON IS A CHEATER!! LIKE AT ALL. MY BABY WOULD NEVER!! but I thought I’d spice things up a bit yk, for the ✨drama✨

ALSO the de-coding thingy when the power went out if probs completely wrong on my part but I was allowed to drop computer science last year and I did ;) so I was just waffling, I know nothing about computers other than they can type, play music and they provide me with google and amazon

TIG masterlist

#bella writes 🤍#grayson hawthorne #grayson tgg #grayson hawthorne one shot #grayson hawthorne x you #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson davenport hawthorne #the inheritance games #tig #the brothers hawthorne #the final gambit #the hawthorne legacy #the grandest game

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kiryoutann · 4 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐀! 𝐀𝐔 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ::: 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 "𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓" 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

A MAN'S HEART IS TRULY A WRETCHED, WRETCHED THING MASTERLIST. CALL OF DUTY MASTERLIST.

Ballerina! reader, who focus too much on technical perfection rather than the artistic value of the performance.

Ballerina! reader, who was chosen to be the prima ballerina for Swan Lake.

And ballerina! reader, who is nicknamed a "robot-ballerina" from how she has no "soul". Whispers say you've sold it to the devil. So, how can a soulless ballerina play Odette and Odile well, then?

The director said, "Fall in love, my darling! That's your way to touch Odette! To stop being soulless."

But, little did he know, that ballerina! reader do not fall in love.

Ballerina! reader who meets Simon under the awnings of a bankrupt cafe, in the middle of the nasty storm of London.

Big, over-six-foot guy, in a black leather jacket that did little to hide the width of his shoulders. At first, you're pretty intimidated - is he going to kidnap you?

Ballerina! reader, who follows Simon to the pub to shelter from the rain. "No sense waiting in the wet," he said in his heavy accent.

Ballerina! reader, who is quite awkward with people—only having one or two people she could consider friends - your mother counts. You end up giving out your real name and address in your attempt to create a topic, thinking he'll take advantage of the stupidity.

Simon didn't. Luckily, Simon didn't. He is a pretty quiet guy, doesn't use his big stature for bad things.

The night you met, you and him talked about small things. Your job, his job – turn out he's in the military—somehow that wasn't surprising; Maybe you've long been judging by his slightly crooked nose (definitely has been broken several times), and the old scars around his jaws when he takes off his mask to take a sip of whatever he ordered.

Despite his height and build, Simon was anything but dangerous. It's natural for you to hope to see him again, right?

And when the second meeting comes, you invite him to your house. Something about it screams stupidity, vulnerability - danger.

But, how can he do all that when he holds you tightly like a good lover? As if full of love as he placed his lips on yours, tracing every inch of your skin as if in worship.

Laid bare, you are. With your pleading love-me eyes—the gaping mouth of a virgin begging for someone to pour love into it until it hits the back of her throat, swallowed without a trace – “let me wash my esophagus with this. So that my future lovers don't find out how unlovable I am.”

Ballerina! reader, who is starved for touch and love.

And when the third meeting arrived, you've gone too deep to pull away.

Ballerina! reader, who loosens her strings, only to sever them completely. Boundaries and lines begin to blur without you realizing it.

What started out as just giving him your phone number—“in case you or I need each other to… you know,”—then a text or two more when he was “away,” then a call, then a habit of receiving random texts and pictures (him feeding a cat on deployment, you and your calluses, Simon not understanding why you bought new pointe shoes just to break them, the scarecrow that reminds him of you and your tutu), and the new “why didn’t you call me when you were away?” protest when he went completely radio silent in this new deployment.

Ballerina! reader, who has the determination to embody Odette - "Fall in love, my darling! That's your way to touch Odette! To stop being soulless" and chooses Simon, of all people, to fall in love with.

Ballerina! reader, who ends up falling in love with Simon-fucking-Riley, the owner of the most despicable heart a man has ever had.

Ballerina! reader who thought she could keep this casual (as Simon wanted), and ended up confessing her love in the end.

Ballerina! reader, who then realizes what a grave mistake that was. How stupid she was to put her heart first as if it were important, as if she hadn't spent her whole life ignoring it.

Ballerina! reader, who immediately noticed the difference in Simon’s expression and behavior. The man stretched his long legs in wide strides as he gathered his few belongings from his apartment, saying “that wasn’t our deal, love,”

Ballerina! reader, pathetically crying, begs Simon to keep her in his life, not to cut her off—to stay. She promises, vows, not to say she loves him; that Simon could come and go as he pleased as long as he wouldn't leave her forever.

But, he left anyway.

Ballerina! reader, who finds Simon leaving with another woman in his arms a few days after. Beautiful, confident, and not you.

And yes! Yes, you have succeeded in embodying Odette, Odile too! But, at what cost? Your defense: art is created from the blood of the artist. And yet, good God, how long will you have to bleed? He wasn't here to see this performance, to see the scars that he probably thought were some kind of tapestry.

Simon, who turned down Soap's invitation to go to the pub after the mission, says he has "some play about swans" ticket to use; the Scot scoffs, saying he never thought his big, bad, Lt. would be interested in ballet.

Simon came to your big performance. Straight from the airport after returning from a long deployment.

Swan Lake. That ballet he never understood, but he knew the story line and remembered how your eyes lit up when you told it over and over to him while being in his embrace.

You know those letters they force soldiers to write to people back home just in case they don't make it back?

Ballerina! reader, who thought she was worth nothing to Simon, but after years of not writing letters (because he had no one to receive them), the first letter he wrote was to you.

Simon who thinks you deserve better than him, doesn't know that despite everything, even the better one doesn't mean anything if it's not him.

Simon thought, all the love he had - no matter how big or deep, it was worth nothing.

But, unfortunately that doesn't change the fact that in his wild fantasies about a kinder world, you are the only one he wants. He doesn't believe in the Apocalypse, but sure as hell you'll be the one next to him as the Earth runs to the ground.

Perhaps, he’s too young to keep good love from going wrong.

What was it all for? A punishment? A penance? The need to always keep himself away from the good things in life, to continue to believe that he was created to be bitter and sour. Alone. Miserable.

He knows no end in desiring you, neither does his self-sabotage.

And when he saw you on that stage, his mind kept repeating "it's worth it, it's worth it" that he did this all for you, for the best. But, in fact, this is all just a sick tendency to remain rough, to suffer.

In the end, you and Simon are just two liars on display like show dogs.

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joelmillerisapunk · 7 months ago

Text

Girl Next Door

Neighbor!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 3,646

Summary: Joel finds himself overwhelmed by the desire to possess something that belongs to you, leading him to indulge in a secret fantasy.

~Or~

What Odette dreams about

Warnings: 18+, mentions of Tommy being in jail, underwear/ underwear sniffing kink? Unprotected bathroom bar sex, hair pulling, no physical description of reader minus hair being pullable, oral - m!receiving

Notes: NERVOUS AS ALL HECK TO POST THIS AS MY FIRST FIC IN A MINUTE. didn't know I had this kink until I had a similar dream, so don't look at me, but also, if anyone else likes this, please let's talk so I don't feel weird 😂 thanks as always @saradika-graphics for the divider

Joel is restless as he mindlessly tosses his clothes into the washing machine in the shared laundry room of his apartment complex. He can't stop thinking about the woman he saw moving in across the hall. There's just something about her that captivated him, and he can't shake her from his mind.

As he goes to add the detergent to the machine, he notices a basket of laundry sitting next to his. His eyes scan over the pile of clothes until they land on a pair of lacy panties. A thrill run through him as he realises that they were hers - yours.

The ones he saw when he was watching you move boxes, the ones he watched appear when you bent over and your shirt exposed the small of your back.

And before he can talk himself out of it, he quickly grabs the panties, stuffing them into his pocket. He turns around just in time to see you walking into the laundry room.

"Oh, hey there," you say with a friendly smile. "I didn't realize anyone else was using the machines right now."

Joel feels his face flush with embarrassment as he stutters out a response. "Uh, yeah, was just finishin' up."

You chuckle softly. "Well, don't let me interrupt you. I just need to switch my load over to the dryer."

As you bend down to transfer your clothes, Joel can't help but steal a glance at your body. He feels a stirring in his pants, and he quickly looks away, hoping you don't notice.

When you straighten up, you catch him looking and raise an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

Joel feels his face grow even hotter. "Uh, yeah, sorry. I just got a little distracted."

You smile knowingly. "Well, I hope it was a good distraction.”

You make small talk as you wait for your laundry to finish, and Joel finds himself even more drawn to you.

As you’re about to leave, you turn to him. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what is it darlin?"

"Well, I seem to have misplaced a pair of my favorite underwear. I was wondering if you might have seen them around here?"

Joel's mind races as he tries to think of a response. He can't very well admit that he had taken them, could he?

"Uh, no, I haven't seen them," he stammers, hoping you don't notice the lie.

You look disappointed. "Oh, well, thanks anyway. I guess I'll just have to buy a new pair." And with that, you're gone. Shortly after, he gathers his things and leaves.

As soon as he’s outside the room, Joel lets out a sigh of relief. The adrenaline rush from stealing your underwear sends shivers down his spine. He can’t believe how easy that was. This is definitely the highest he's ever felt.

But as he walks away, a wave of guilt washes over him. What kind of sick fuck gets off on stealing women's underwear? He knows how wrong it is, but damn if it doesn't turn him on like nothing else ever could.

He walks aimlessly for a while, trying to distract himself from the thoughts in his head. But every time he thinks about those lacy panties clinging to his thigh, he feels his cock throb.

He needs to do something with them. He needs to feel them against his skin, to smell them, to touch them. But what? Should he hide them away in a drawer? Or should he just keep them nearby for whenever the urge struck?

Joel hesitates for a moment before finally making up his mind.

As he walks back into his apartment, he can’t help but imagine what it would be like to feel those panties on his body. The idea of feeling your softness against his skin makes his cock throb even harder.

Joel decides to try and sleep it off. Maybe by morning, the urge would pass, and he would be able to put this whole thing behind him.

He walks toward his bedroom and strips off his clothes before he climbs into bed. But try as he might, sleep eludes him. The urge to grab those panties and explore them with his tongue is too strong to ignore. He continues to shift restlessly in bed until finally giving in to temptation. He reaches down grabbing the soft fabric from his jeans wrapping one hand around his hard cock and using the other hand to bring the fabric up to his nose and inhales deeply.

Joel's hand moves up and down his shaft, stroking with a rhythm that he knows will bring him to climax in no time. He focuses on the sensation of his own hand, the softness of you on the lace, letting out a low moan as he feels himself getting closer to the edge.

But then, just as he's about to come, Joel hesitates. What if you found out? The thought makes him pause, making him wonder if it’s worth the risk. He decides to take a break for now. Throwing the panties to the floor, he lays there for a few moments, trying to catch his breath. But then he can't resist. The urge takes over slowly and then, all at once, crashing over him like a tidal wave about to suffocate him. Joel picks up the panties one more time and brings them close to his face, inhaling deeply.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath as he licks them slowly, savoring their scent. He runs his tongue over every inch of fabric before finally taking them into his mouth, sucking on them hungrily. "You taste so sweet baby."

He stops to hold the panties in front of his face, admiring their form, admiring the cut and color. He imagines how it would taste if he were to lick your pretty lips and your pretty little clit, imagining how it would taste when he slips his fingers inside you as you’re making a mess all over his face. It almost makes him come right then.

He moans softly as he imagines all the things he would be doing to you once he gets you alone. How you would feel wrapped around his cock, moaning as he pushes into you. His eyes light up as he envisions how you would feel, naked against him, begging and whimpering as he fucks you. He knows the perfect way to drive you insane; torturing you for pleasure before finally plunging into you, making you scream his name, begging daddy for his big cock. He pictures you writhing and crying underneath him as his seed spills all over your soft skin, filling the air with the musky scent of sex.

His fantasy is interrupted, however, as his phone rings, shattering the illusion of the forbidden paradise his imagination created. Joel groans in frustration, reluctantly answering it.

"Ya?" He demands, his voice rough with need and lust, not bothering to ask who it is.

"Hey, big brother. It's me." it was Tommy, and Joel could only guess what this was about. Tommy had seen himself in jail, his fair share these past few years, and Joel was tired of bailing him out.

"Tommy, I swear to god -" Joel starts, ready cuss out his brother and give him the old "I'm gonna kick your ass..." spiel, but Tommy cuts him off.

"I know what you're gonna say. You're gonna kick my ass. But it wasn't my fault this time. The guy had it comin. He was gonna hurt her. I was just tryin' to help. You gotta respect that, Mr. Southern gentleman himself." Tommy says, sounding sincere enough for Joel to believe him. He relaxes slightly. Tommy never did anything particularly bad, but he always manages to get himself in trouble somehow. Even as kids, he was always bailing Tommy out.

Joel rolls his eyes. “That's what you said the last time. I'm gonna kick your damn ass Tommy. I should leave ya in there."

"Alright, alright, look man-"

"What? Make it good, or I'm goin’ back to bed." Joel says impatiently.

"You bail me out this one last time, and I'll buy you the next round'a beer." Tommy bargains.

Joel can't help but laugh at his brother's proposal. "You're really tryin’ to bribe me with beer, huh? Fine, I'll bail you out one last time. But you better not fuck this up, Tommy, you ain’t gettin' another chance." Joel warns.

"Thanks, Joel. I won't let you down this time, I promise - promise on our mamma," Tommy replies, sounding genuinely grateful.

Joel sighs and hangs up the phone, shaking his head. He can't believe he was letting his brother talk him into this again.

But as he gets dressed and heads out to bail his brother out of jail, Joel can’t shake off the feeling of excitement that still lingers from his earlier encounter. The memory of those lacy panties, the scent of you on his fingers, the taste of you on his tongue - all of it is still fresh in his mind.

As he drives, Joel's mind starts to wander. He can't stop thinking about you, about the way you probably look in those silky panties, the way you feel and taste. He feels himself getting hard again just thinking about it. There’s something about you that draws him in, something that makes him want to possess you, to make you his own.

With one hand on the wheel, his free hand pulls out the underwear from his pocket, his hand shaking with desire as he holds the lacy panties up.

He lets out a low moan, his cock already rock hard in his pants and without thinking, he begins to rub himself through the fabric, imagining it’s your hand on him instead.

The sensation is overwhelming, and Joel can feel himself on the brink of climax almost immediately. He tries to hold back to savor the moment, but it’s no use. Within seconds, he’s coming hard, staining his jeans with his own release.

Panicked, he starts feeling around his truck for something to cover up the stain on his pants. He rummages through the glove compartment and the back seat before finally finding an old sweater that Tommy had left behind on a previous visit.

Joel quickly places the sweater over his bulge, hoping it would be enough to hide the stain.

When he arrives, he parks in the loading zone and jumps out of the truck, still trying to act casual while tying the sweater around his waist. But as he approaches the entrance, he can feel the eyes of the other visitors coming in on him, no doubt noticing the bulge in his pants and the sweater tied around his waist.

As he walks into the jail, his face flushes with embarrassment, and his mind still preoccupies with thoughts of you. He makes his way to the visitor's area, scanning the crowd for Tommy.

When he finally spots his brother sitting at a visitors table, looking bored and impatient, Joel approaches him, trying to act as casual as possible.

"Hey, Tommy," Joel says, as he sits across from him.

Tommy looks up and does a double-take when he sees the sweater tied around Joel's waist. "What the hell happened to you?" Tommy asks, with a smirk on his face.

Joel feels his face grow even hotter with embarrassment. "Nothin’, just spilled some coffee on my pants.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced.

Joel shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to discreetly adjust the sweater tied around his waist. He can feel Tommy's eyes on him, still skeptical about the "coffee" stain.

"Sure thing, big brother. Whatever you say," Tommy says, chuckling to himself.

—

Joel and Tommy walk out of the jail, the weight of the situation heavy between them but still Joel can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over him as they step out into the cool night air. He had done his duty as an older brother once again, bailing Tommy out of a sticky situation.

As they make their way to Joel's truck, he can’t shake off the thoughts of you that have been consuming him all day. He wants you, needs you, in a way that he has never felt before.

Tommy notices Joel's distracted state and ribbs him about it. "Hey man, you got a girl on the brain or somethin’? You've been acting weird since you got here."

Joel hesitates for a moment, as much of a dumbass his kid brother is, he’s really all he’s got, "Uh - yeah, there’s this girl... Can't stop thinkin’ about her."

Tommy chuckles. "Well, maybe you should ask her out or somethin’. What's the worst that could happen?"

Joel shakes his head. "It's not that simple. I... I don't even know her name."

Tommy raises an eyebrow. "Well, where’d you meet her?"

Joel hesitates for a moment before admitting the truth. "I saw her move the other day across the way. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Just sat there starin’ for a bit, I just couldn't help myself.”

"Well, maybe you'll run into her again sometime. And this time, you can introduce yourself like a normal person."

Joel nods, feeling a glimmer of hope. Maybe Tommy was right. Maybe he would run into you again. And this time, he could do things differently.

—

The next evening, Joel finds himself at the bar down the street, hoping against hope that he might see you again, somewhere, somehow. He sits at the bar, nursing a beer and scanning the crowd for any sign of you.

As he sits there, he can't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. Has he been here before? It was like a fog had settled over his memory, making it difficult to recall the details.

And then, just as he's about to give up hope, he sees you walking towards the bar, your eyes scanning the crowd. And then, as if by some miracle, they land on him.

You smile, a shy, tentative smile that makes Joel's heart race. Joel can't help but feel a wave of nervousness wash over him as he sees you approaching him at the bar.

He's always been awkward around women, especially ones as beautiful as you. He tries to play it cool, taking a sip of his beer and glancing up at the TV, but his eyes keep flicking back to you.

"Hey there, cowboy," you say, a playful smile on your lips. "I haven't seen you around here before."

Joel feels a wave of nervousness wash over him, but he tries to hide it with a grin. "Oh, I'm just passin' through," he says, hoping he doesn't sound as awkward as he feels.

But you seem to be enjoying his discomfort, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, I'm glad you stopped by."

You lean against the bar, your body close to Joel's. He can feel the heat radiating off of you, and he finds himself struggling to focus on anything but you.

"So, cowboy, tell me what really brings you to this little dive bar?" You ask, your voice low and sultry.

Joel takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. "Just needed a break from the rodeo, I guess," he says, trying to play along.

You laugh, a loud, genuine laugh that makes Joel's heart skip a beat. "Well, I'm glad you found it. Maybe we can make each other's night a little more interesting."

Joel feels a thrill run through him at your words. He knows what you're suggesting, and he can't help but feel a surge of desire. "I'd like that darlin."

You lean in closer, your lips brushing against Joel's ear. "Follow me."

Joel follows you through the crowded bar, his heart racing with excitement. He can't believe what's happening, but he doesn't want it to stop.

You lead him to the bathroom, pushing open the door and pulling him inside. The room is small and dimly lit, but Joel can see the desire shining in your eyes.

You push him up against the wall, your body presses against his. Joel can feel your breath hot against his skin, and he finds himself struggling to breathe.

"I've wanted you since the moment I saw you."

Joel feels a surge of desire run through him. He's wanted you just as badly, and he can't believe this is finally happening. He reaches out, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss, your tongues dancing together as you explore each other's mouths.

Joel's hands move down your body, sliding under your skirt and finding their way to your panties. He can feel the heat radiating off of you, and he knows you want him just as badly as he wants you.

He slides your panties down your legs, his fingers lingering for a moment before he lets them fall to the floor.

You break the kiss, your breath hot and heavy. "Take me."

Joel doesn't need to be told twicn.sbb

De. He helps you up onto the sink and your legs wrap around his waist as he slides inside of you.

You moan with pleasure, your head thrown back as Joel thrusts into you. The bathroom is small and cramped, but neither of you care. All that matters is the heat and the pleasure between you.

Joel can feel himself getting close, the pleasure building up inside of him. He knows he won't be able to hold back for much longer.

But just as he's about to reach his climax, you pull away, your body sliding down his.

"Not yet, cowboy," you say, a playful smile on your lips.

Joel watches as you sink to your knees in front of him, your eyes never leaving his. He feels a surge rush through him as you reach for his hard cock, you wrap your hand around it, stroking him slowly. Joel lets out a low moan as he feels your hand on him, the sensation almost too much to bear.

You lean in closer, your breath hot against his skin. He can feel your lips brushing against the tip of his cock, and he holds his breath in anticipation.

And then, finally, you take him into your mouth. Joel lets out another moan as he feels your lips around him, your tongue swirling around his cock. His thoughts are consumed with desire as he watches you pleasure him.

He reaches down, tangling his fingers in your hair as he begins to thrust his hips, fucking your mouth with a roughness that takes you by surprise. You moan around his cock, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. He can't believe how good it feels and how much he wants you.

He feels himself teetering on the edge, and he knows he's about to come. He pulls out of your mouth, your saliva glistening on his cock.

Without a word, he pulls you up and turns you around, bending you over the sink. He can see your face in the mirror, your eyes wide with desire and anticipation.

He slides inside of you, your wetness coating his cock as he begins to thrust. He can feel you clenching around him, your body trembling. Joel reaches around, his fingers finding your clit. He begins to rub slow circles, hearing you moan with pleasure as he hits the right spot.

He knows he won't be able to hold back much longer, and with one final thrust, he spills his seed deep inside of you, filling you up as you moan with pleasure.

Joel watches in the mirror as you come with him, your face flushed with pleasure, and your eyes glazed over with desire. He can't believe what just happened, but he knows one thing for sure - he needs more of you.

He pulls out of you and helps you to your feet. You lean into him, your body trembling with pleasure.

"Wow," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel chuckles, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over him. "Yeah, wow," he says, pulling you close for a kiss.

He helps you straighten your clothes, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment before he pulls away.

You reach down, picking up your panties from the floor. You hold them out to Joel, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"A souvenir," you wink.

Joel takes the panties, his heart racing with excitement.

You lean in, your fingers putting a pre-written note in his pocket, and your lips brush against his ear. "Call me, cowboy," you say, your voice low and sultry.

And then you're gone, leaving Joel alone in the bathroom with nothing but the memory of your body and the scent of your panties to remind him of what just happened. He can't believe what just happened, but he knows one thing for sure - he's never felt this alive before.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!reader

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bodhrancomedy · 11 days ago

Text

Chasing the Mists (Part 1) by Bodhrán M.

The seafolk had been coming for decades, but still no one could say why they chose to steal the people they did. Sometimes it seemed simple enough – all young men or all old women or children under five – but sometimes the only similarities of the captives were that all had brown eyes, or they took from every third house. Sometimes they swarmed up the beach in an unrelenting hoard, seizing and breaking and shrieking in delight. Sometimes it was done so silently, so neatly, that a man could wake in his bed to find the wife he’d clasped in his arms at nightfall gone as surely as snow in summer.

Every year it changed along with the seasons and the tactics, but two things were certain.

The seafolk came once a year and those they took were never seen again.

Odette – Ody – knew this just as everyone did. So did her mother as she trailed behind her, telling her daughter over and over as Ody purposefully restrung the little boat’s sails.

“Please, Ody. Please. No one comes back, you know that. Please just come back inside.”

Ody ignored her. The anger and sorrow and terror balled up in her chest was making her lightheaded and floaty, that core a steel anchor to her mind.

“It hurts, Ody. I know. I promise I know. We all know.”

It was true. Many of the villages up and down the coast would be grieving loved ones tonight – whether stolen or slain trying in vain to protect them.

“I lost your grandfather to them,” her mother was choking on her tears, fingers gripping the side of the boat until her scarred knuckles turned to white skulls, “my best friend, your sister… I don’t need to lose you too, Ody.”

Ody tested the rigging, the rope rough against her hands as she tugged.

“What about your father? What about the twins? What about his mother?” At that her mother sucked in a ragged breath, swaying. “Ody, please listen to me!”

She did straighten at that, her heart stuck painfully in her windpipe. “He’d come for me, Mam.”

“Because you’re both young and foolish and in love.” Her mother reached out, pleadingly grasping Ody’s woolen sleeve.

The sleeve Locke had made. They’d spent their childhood like everyone else; weaving the fishing nets on the shores where his had always had a fineness to them no one else could match. She’d heard the elders talking once, saying how it was almost a shame he was born out here on the shifting sands and not in the city, where some grand laird or lady could have apprenticed him. The overheard conversation had made Ody guilty for days because the first thought which had gripped her tight was that she was furiously, fiercely glad he hadn’t and that the Gods had determined that he be here with her instead, together for eternity in this destitute fishing village overlooking a merciless sea.

That was a young and foolish Ody, not this one.

Not this calm, meticulous one with a knife in her belt, a ring on her finger, and a plan in her head.

“No one,” her mother begged, “no one has ever come back.”

“Then I suppose it’s time they did.”

#writing #fairytale #short story

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seramilla · 5 months ago

Note

I ended up binging all your posts about Vaggie being related to the Carmine's and ended up having a dream about all the wedding prep, including Carmilla actually meeting Charlie and thanking her for loving and helping Vaggie heal and grow from her time as an exorcist

I'm sorry, but this gave me ideas, so have some fluff instead of angst on this goddamn page for once.

Charlie Morningstar paces back and forth outside Carmine Industries for several minutes before she even thinks about touching the buzzer. A myriad of thoughts race through her mind as she steels herself for what she came here to do. Vaggie is distracted, back at the hotel helping Alastor with some kind of workshop or other for their guests. She has at least an hour until her presence is needed again -- plenty of time, she hopes, for a meeting with Carmilla Carmine.

Ultimately, it's not her who buzzes herself in, but one of the other Carmine girls. Charlie literally falls over in surprise as the metal door clanks open, but she manages to right herself before face-planting on the concrete outside. Odette, if memory serves, is standing there with a confused expression on her face, cocking an eyebrow at her and turning her head 30 degrees like a curious puppy. Charlie clears her throat, blushing profusely at her almost-fumble.

"Od-Odette! Hello! Did I get that right? Um, yeah, hi! I'm here to see Carm--Ms. Carmine. Is she home--at work--do you live or work here? I guess I don't know. I'm sorry, that's a dumb question, I just--!"

Odette chuckles. "She's here. Are you looking for an audience with her?"

Charlie lets out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Yes! Ma'am! Yes, ma'am! Oh, I'm sorry, do you mind if I call you ma'am? Is that weird? Should I call you something else?"

Odette chuckles again. "Odette is fine. No need for any formalities, your highness. You know you're welcome here. Follow me."

"Thank you so much! I'm coming!"

Charlie talks Odette's ears off the entire time they're walking toward Carmilla's office. Up a huge flight of stairs, around a corner, and all the way down a long hallway, Odette is given a crash course on all the current events happening at the Hazbin Hotel. She could probably give a lecture on the topic, given how good Charlie has gotten at really drilling home all the highlights of her redemption program.

When they finally stop in front of Carmilla's office, Odette gives Charlie's hand a firm shake, saying, "It's been a pleasure, Miss Morningstar. Now I must return to my tasks for the day." Then, without another word, she's gone again.

Charlie pauses at the ornate door leading to Carmilla's office. It's tall, and imposing. She's the princess of Hell, goddamn it! Something like this should be super simple for a daughter of Lucifer Morningstar!

Shaking all her misgivings out of her head, she says to herself, "Right! Let's do this!" before knocking firmly on the door three times. After a moment, a muffled yet prominent, "Come in!" reaches her from the other side. Taking another deep breath, Charlie opens the door, and steps inside.

Carmilla Carmine is at her desk, working away at a stack of files and papers that are practically as tall as Charlie is. Other stacks, she assumes the finished ones, are scattered in boxes around the floor at Carmilla's feet. Charlie doesn't even begin to know where to look -- the office is so busy. Instead, she ignores it, and smiles at Carmilla when the other woman's gaze meets hers.

"Charlotte!" Carmilla says, a happy lilt to her voice. She immediately stands and greets the princess with open arms. One of the privileges of dating the daughter of Carmilla Carmine is she's often privy to the woman's more maternal side. A notion that is quite welcome, as far as Charlie is concerned. It's nice, feeling that kind of maternal love again -- it's been so absent from her own life since her mother...left all those years ago.

"It's so nice to see you, Charlotte. Please, have a seat. What do I owe the pleasure of your company today?"

Carmilla gestures Charlie over to the plush couches on the opposite side of her office. The furniture has been upgraded since the last time she's been here. Charlie obliges and takes a seat. Carmilla joins her.

Charlie debates whether to break through her own misgivings with small talk, but decides better of it. She came here with a purpose today; she only has so much time before she's needed back at the hotel, so she decides to just get to the business at hand.

"Well," Charlie starts, immediately fumbling all the words she'd so diligently practiced earlier. That's so like her. But she won't be deterred! She grips the fabric of her pants tightly in both fists and continues.

"As you know, Vaggie and I are coming up on our 5-year anniversary in a few months. It's a big milestone for us, and I wanted to do something really special for her..."

Charlie pauses, waiting to see if Carmilla will interject. The older woman is as poised and stoic as ever, waiting patiently for Charlie to continue. Charlie wishes she could better gauge what the woman is thinking at the moment...but it can't be helped. Charlie's not a mind reader. Nowhere else to go now, but forward!

"...Anyway...um...what I came here to do today was...uhh...oh, fuck, why is this so hard?"

"Take a breath, Charlotte. It's okay."

That definitely is not helping Charlie's nervousness at all, being reminded to breathe, like she doesn't have two perfectly capable lungs, all her own. Carmilla is still looking at her with that face, like everything is fine. How does she know it's fine? She doesn't even know what Charlie's going to say!

Breathe, Charlie!

"God, okay. Hoooo boy. Carmilla. I came here today to ask...to tell you...that I love Vaggie very much. More than anything in the world. My life was not complete until she literally fell into it, and every day since then has been more rich, more fulfilling, and more full of joy than I can ever put into words. I'm telling you this because I'm going to...I want your blessing when I... I'mgoingtoaskhertomarrymeandIwantyoutotellmeit'sokay! Okay?"

The last part comes out of Charlie's mouth in a flurry of words. She lets out a sigh of relief, thankful she was able to get it out. She hopes Carmilla had understood her. Thankfully, the sparkle in Carmilla's eyes tells her that she has, and so much more. Before she can even protest, Carmilla pulls Charlie into a hug that's so tight, her spine nearly bows from the force of it.

Shit, this overlord's strength is nothing to sneeze at.

"You don't need my permission, Charlotte," Carmilla says, squeezing Charlie even harder around the waist. Charlie squeaks.

"I...I don't?"

"Of course not. You're already family. And Vaggie's a big girl. She can make her own decisions. But if you want my blessing...then of course you have it. I can never repay you for protecting her, loving, her, and watching over her when I couldn't. I would love nothing more than to welcome you into our family...officially."

"You, too!" Charlie says, not wanting to diminish the other woman's contribution to Vaggie's healing process. "Also, I almost asked my dad if he would do it, but...I want you to be the one to walk her down the aisle, if she says yes! I know she would want that!"

Carmilla can't hide the fact that she's the one crying now. Charlie sees her trying to hide the tears behind the hand in front of her face, but the cracks are breaking around the older woman's facade like a dam trying to overrun its banks. She smiles at Charlie, and nods.

"Of course I will. I would love nothing more than to give my girl away to you."

Charlie can't wait for the day she can pop the question to the love of her life. She's already bought the ring, got the date planned with Asmodeus, and booked an opulent night full of food, dancing, and every other pleasantry the Lust ring has to offer. She vows to make it the best night of Vaggie's life, second only to their wedding day, if she accepts Charlie's proposal.

Beyond that, all Charlie can see is happiness. She never dreamed as much for herself. But it's so close, she can almost grasp it. She leaves Carmilla's that day feeling more light and airy than she has in a while, and more full of conviction that she has the strength to see this through.

She deserves it. Vaggie deserves it. Carmilla deserves it. Her heart is so full of love and raw tenderness, she could practically burst.

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #carmilla carmine #odette hazbin hotel #chaggie #ask #anon #fan theories #lucifer morningstar #helluva boss #asmodeus helluva boss #vaggie carmilla related au

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deadlyashesart · 8 months ago

Text

Alastor's disappearance (Part 1)

Part 1 of a fanfiction I'm writing! There's not enough Rosie angst in this world so I have to do it myself. I've never written fanfiction before, by the way. Don't hurt me if it's bad LOL. I wanted to post this on AO3 but realized I didn't have an AO3 account and they said it might take me till April to get one and I don't wanna wait...

Based on a post I made yesterday.

Part 2

-----

It had been five months since Rosie had last seen her dear friend, Alastor. This wasn’t too out of the ordinary coming from the Radio Demon, but something deep in Rosie’s gut told her something was gravely wrong. Despite this, she had a colony filled with cannibals to feed, and couldn’t waste her time worrying about something as simple as a ‘gut feeling’.

Rosie sat at the front desk of Franklin and Rosie’s Emporium. It was a beautiful day—at least as beautiful as it got in Hell—and the emporium was packed. Rosie was aiding a customer, unaware her business partner was standing right behind her.

Franklin leaned in close. “Rosie, I believe you should step aside with me for a moment,” she whispered.

Rosie paused, turning her head slightly before bringing her attention back to the customer on the other side of the counter. “Mrs. Odette, I’m so sorry, but I must cut our consultation short. I insist you take my card and come back soon!” she said politely, handing the fellow cannibal her business card before waving a hand, gesturing for her to leave.

Rosie followed Franklin away from the crowd, every so often glancing back at the long line that waited for her return. “What is it, my dear? I’m quite busy.”

“It’s about Alastor. He’s gone missing,” Franklin answered abruptly. She spoke quietly as if exchanging top-secret information.

Rosie laughed, waving her hand dismissively. “Oh darling, don’t be so ridiculous!”

“I’m not! Everyone’s talking about it. He hasn’t been seen anywhere, and his radio show hasn’t been updated in weeks! You, of all people, should know how much he loves that show, he wouldn’t miss a day, at least without telling anyone!” Franklin went silent, and a thought crept into her head. “Oh, I wonder if he’s been killed..!”

Rosie’s eyebrows furrowed in worry. After a moment of thought, she spoke, “I’m sure he’s fine, darling.”

“I see… Very well then, I just wanted to let you know. I’m aware you two are very good friends.”

“Yes, and I’m certain he’s quite alright. He’s most likely just taking a break from the radio scene!” Rosie replied, knowing deep down that even she didn’t believe a word she was saying. “Besides, if he was killed, the murderer would’ve made a big show about taking down the mighty Radio Demon, would they not? As far as I know, that hasn’t happened yet!”

Franklin nodded softly. “You’re right, you’re right… If that had happened, we’d have something a lot worse to worry about.”

“Correct. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to attend to.” Rosie curtsied as a gesture of farewell before returning to the front desk of the emporium.

-----

Later that night, Rosie tossed and turned in her bed, unable to sleep. She couldn’t stop worrying about Alastor, just the thought of him brought an ache in her chest. After a while of fighting with her internal dialogue back and forth, she groaned in defeat. She sat up and reached for the small radio that was on her bedside table, a gift from Alastor to show his appreciation towards her. Her hands fiddled with the dials as she turned the frequency to Alastor’s radio show; There was nothing but static.

Rosie sighed, unsure why she thought that would work. He didn’t even broadcast this late at night. She was desperate. All she wanted to hear was her dear friend’s voice, so she could know he was alright, know if he was hurt, know if he was alive. She silently cursed Franklin’s name, frustrated with her putting the thought of Alastor’s death in her mind.

Rosie didn’t get any sleep that night. Or the next night, or the next.

-----

A few weeks passed, and she didn't get better. Franklin walked up to Rosie, handing her a cup of fresh coffee. “You look like hell, darling. Have you been getting any sleep?”

Rosie sat down on the couch, exhausted from her terrible sleep schedule. She took a huge sip of coffee, but that didn’t do much. “I’m fine, Franklin… I just… Would you mind taking the morning shift today?” She brought a hand to her head, feeling slightly lightheaded.

“Okay, I can do that! But you’re obviously not fine, dear. The bags under your eyes have gotten worse, this isn’t like you!”

Rosie’s eyes drifted toward the radio that was placed on the coffee table in front of her, and Franklin immediately connected the dots. “Oh, my dear, is this about Alastor’s disappearance?”

Rosie did not respond. Franklin sighed. She sat down next to her and slowly pulled her into a hug, and she could feel Rosie shiver as a lump caught in her throat.

“I don’t know where he could’ve gone… Maybe he is dead, Franklin,” Rosie mumbled, burying her face in her friend’s shoulder. “I don’t want to cry, I don't want to worry. He’d probably laugh if I did, but… Fuck, I miss him.”

-----

#radiorose #platonic radiorose #alastor and rosie #rosie and alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin rosie #hurt/comfort #angst

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yaeggravate · 1 year ago

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Arlecchino is the White/Black Swan

she has swan motives all over her design; from her hair to her accessories. even her blackened hands could be a nod to the movie black swan (2010).

the ballerina playing odette usually wears a white feather headpiece that pretty much always looks like this. the shape is similar to arlecchino's swept bangs.

black swans have black wings with broad white wing tips; arlecchino's hair is cropped to match this exactly only with the colors swapped. it's like she has the wing of a black swan on the right side of her face and the wing of a white swan on the left.

arlecchino has strange red and black gems on her outfit; these look strikingly similar to the black swan's eye make up from the movie black swan.

the white and black swan from swan lake have french names: odette and odile. arlecchino is from fontaine which is basically fantasy france. i don't think she's lying about this since the developers confirmed this in the livestream.

Lyney: That was how "Father" (Otets), who you might know as The Knave, approached recruiting us back then, too...

swan lake is a russian ballet, which is interesting because they called arlecchino "otets" in the game, which is russian for father. probably just a funny coincidence but otets is pronounced similar to odette.

odile is described as fiery, dangerous and deceptive; the opposite of odette who is graceful like flowing water.

About the Knave: A wolf in sheep's clothing. To exert a higher level of control over people, she puts on a graceful and cordial front. Most of those who have seen her true, crazy self… have gone poof.

this is in line with the wanderer's voiceline about her and from what we've seen from her behavior in the archon quest. arlecchino is also confirmed to have a pyro vision.

odette and odile are usually played by the same ballerina; they are simultaneously the hero and the villain. as you know, harbingers have dual or more identities. the white/black swan fits this theme.

odile is the name of a saint who was blind and was often depicted carrying a pair of eyes on a book. arlecchino has crossed out eyes, and has two accessories resembling eyes stuck on her clothing as seen above.

swans are known to be viciously protective of their young. and well, from the fontaine siblings' character stories we can tell arlecchino is no different.

also just for fun compare arlecchino's possible constellation (the hand of glory) to the black swan's hands

#arlecchino #.txt #lore bytes #i already talked about this but!!!#gi spoilers #just for that one scene lol #i also played the prison wq so i have some thoughts on what her black arms could actually mean but that's for another post

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petit-etoile · 1 year ago

Note

Astarion is a taco bell worker who has not had a single day off in 2 years because his manager can't be assed to teach anyone else how to close. He longs to one day see the sun again and be free of these twisted and evil taco nights

in motion, in 3D

pairing: astarion/tav wordcount: 7,156 content warnings: please do not have sex in parking lots !! but anyway, all characters are in university & tacobellstarion works to pay for his law books, i use a lot of pet names from both spawn & ascended astarion, but he's not a vampire in this universe so his morality is mostly in tact, nearly 7k of pure smut other tags: alternate universe - college/university, porn what plot/porn without plot, pwp, established relationship, semi-public s.ex, b.lowjobs, riding, c.reampie, shameless smut, taco bell, gender neutral tav archiveofourown: here.

tag list: @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia, @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness be added to the taglist here

summary: Fast food jobs may as well be from Avernus itself, yet Astarion clocks in every day for a night-shift at Taco Bell in his silly little purple hat and his silly little purple uniform.

College is already hard enough. Add in a job on the side that requires you to stay up long before even the partiest of party kids have gone to sleep, and life might start to seem even bleaker. Astarion may not have gone out of state for his college adventures, but it was still hard. The expense of the university, the expense of staying on campus, and the expense of wanting to afford textbooks unfortunately resulted in this.

He takes a long, exhausted look around the cluttered Taco Bell and considers sobbing on the floor. Despite all the work put in to make the building seem pristine, the shop always seems as though it’s been through some soft of galactic turbulence by the time the night has ended. The last thing Astarion wants to see is a catty text from the day shift saying things were still dirty. He might snap his phone if he sees Enver Gortash (saved in his phone as DO NOT ANSWER!!!) texting him at a bright and early seven in the morning.

Fast food jobs may as well be from Avernus itself, yet Astarion clocks in every day for a night-shift at Taco Bell in his silly little purple hat and his silly little purple uniform. He hates it — He loathes it more than anything else, but it’s the only thing that keeps him from sinking further into nearing-graduation depression. This is the only way he stays sane.

He slips his phone out of his pocket and taps in his password, a cute little anniversary date, and checks his text messages before anyone can rat him out to the team manager in the back. There’s a Snapchat that he can’t check and a few text messages, and he presses on them so desperately he thinks he might be going a little insane. It’s only been a few hours and yet…

LOML: i'm coming to get u!!

Astarion smiles so wide he thinks his face might crack. It makes him giggle, swing his feet, twirl his hair around his finger. He feels very baby girl, as Karlach liked to put it. He types a quick ‘MY HERO’ before sliding his phone back in his pocket. That one text is all he needed to hold on for the last thirty minutes of work.

‘Alright!’ Wyll calls from the back. He looks up from his new shiny Apple watch. ‘Last customer is out, so you know what that means. Closing time. Let’s get this show on the road!’

Closing time is somehow the best part of Astarion’s day and the worst. The best, because he knows who will be waiting for him outside to pick him up as soon as everything is neat and tidied inside. The worst, because someone has to clean the bathrooms and he refuses to do it. There’s a bleakness, a despair to the Taco Bell bathrooms. It truly takes the world’s strongest to venture forth and clean them, and Astarion’s recently had a manicure. He scours the room critically before his sight lands on his second favorite co-worker ever!

‘Jenevelle,’ he purrs, turning to look at his younger co-worker. ‘It’s your turn to clean the bathrooms.’

‘It isn’t,’ she says snootily, pushing an Airpod into her ear to drown him out. ‘I did it yesterday. The men’s room is a crime against humanity.’

Astarion frowns. ‘I’m older. You do it. I refuse.’

'Just because you're like, seventy-something and still working at Taco Bell doesn't mean that's what the rest of us want to do,' Jenevelle says, blowing an obnoxiously large bubble with her gum. She slides off the counter and rolls her eyes. 'You're cringe.'

'Bold,' Astarion says, scandalized at only a young twenty-four years of age, 'considering that's coming from someone who put down the name Shadowheart on her application form and dresses like Olivia Rodrigo. Now, go clean the ladies' bathrooms before I feel inclined to point out you have nasolabial folds at eighteen.'

Shadowheart gasps in mock horror, putting a hand to her mouth. She rushes to get the cleaning supplies and does as she was told, but it doesn’t feel like a victory. Astarion is almost certain he’s going to wake up to a text from Gale laughing about how the story is being shared on a small indie podcast. It’s enough to send shivers down Astarion’s spine, but not enough to offer to swap places with Shadowheart. He goes back to petulantly sorting the hot sauce packets.

He pockets one mocking saying ‘I’m Your Main Squeeze!’ and shoves the containers back from where they came from. It’s easy closing, he tells himself. If closing were any easier, the morning shift wouldn’t complain so much. It’s what he has to tell himself as he wipes down the counter.

It’s hard to hold onto hope during these tough taco hours. Astarion just checked his phone, but if he were to check it again, he’s almost certain not even a minute would have passed. No matter how hard he scrubs the counter, everything smells like refried beans. His hair smells like refried beans. His shirt smells like refried beans. His skin must smell like refried beans. It’s a nightmare.

‘Dude, I cannot wait to get out of here,’ Wyll complains, coming to lean on the counter. He begins pretending to sort packets too. ‘Do you have any plans, Astarion?’

‘Ravengard,’ Astarion says patiently, ‘it is three in the morning. My plan is to sleep.’

‘Serious about that beauty sleep?’

‘Dead serious.’

Wyll hums. ‘The rest of us were going to go out for a drink. We wanted to know if you wanted to come with us. You know, to let off steam.’

Astarion considers it the same way one considers eating leftovers. He thinks about it then thinks about the sage old rule: There is nothing open after three in the morning besides jail cells and iHop. He decides against it. Doesn’t want to risk the price of bail after a night of drinking.

Besides, there’s someone coming to pick him up anyway. The thought of you crosses his mind and he can’t help but feel somewhat giddy about it. Between all the work from school and the stress of trying to make Burrito Supremes, you make going through the hardship of closing every single night worth it.

He’s supposed to be doing something, but Astarion can’t remember what it was that Wyll told him needed extra attention at the beginning of his shift or what closing a store entails anymore. He takes out his phone one more time and looks at his screen so he can memorize his screensaver which is a cute photo of you asleep in his shirt and drooling.

‘Ugh, you’re so happy it’s gross,’ Wyll says, wrinkling his nose.

‘Oh please,’ Astarion snorts. ‘As if you and Lae’zel aren’t sickening.’

If Astarion is being completely honest, almost all couples are. Somehow, the two of you don’t get to avoid that connotation. He remembers when you first started dating. You celebrated one week of dating, then two, then every month, then every other month just because it delighted you to do so. Astarion’s reputation is that he’s a prickly, unkind asshole which isn’t entirely too far from the truth, but the difference is that you are you, and you deserve all the nice things he can give.

But before anyone can complain about Astarion being sappy again, he slides his phone into his pocket and goes about his closing to-do list. He fusses over Karlach’s dishes. After working at a fast food restaurant, he’s pretty sure he’ll never eat at one again — but what the public doesn’t know what hurt them. They’re clean enough to anyone terribly concerned about it.

Isobel is hastily cleaning the floors. She and Aylin will never beat the grossest couple allegations, but Astarion thinks she’s the cutest thing in the world with her big eyes and fluffy eyelashes and perfectly smudged eyeliner. Once, he found Isobel and Shadowheart in the bathroom comparing shopping bags at Ulta instead of working the drive through. Astarion never told, but they owed him favors for two weeks in a row. Those were the best two weeks of his life.

Astarion does, however, fuss over the cleanliness of the lobby. The store itself feels permanently smudged in grease and smells about as nice as a locker room, but he refuses to be in the kind of establishment that refuses to clean the soda dispenser nozzles. He watches Wyll clean them then cleans them again himself.

And lastly, very lastly, Astarion gathers all the mops and brooms and rags and towels and puts them back from whence they came. Isobel finishes checking the filters to make sure they’re spotless about the same time Shadowheart comes miserably from the bathrooms with a look of utter despair on her features. He should probably feel bad, but he’s just thankful he didn’t have to do it himself. He wonders if he can somehow convince Wyll to do them tomorrow… but that’s a thought for another day, and Astarion only has one thing on his mind now that the store is closed.

You.

Thank the gods, it’s you. You’re a blessing in disguise if you’ll ever admit it. You willingly wake up in the middle of the night to come pick up Astarion, and you’ve never complained about it despite it being well beyond your bedtime. It’s embarrassing to admit that it’s something the both of you look forward to. A little private time away from dorm roommates and their friends who all like to crowd into impossibly tiny rooms because they haven’t spent enough time with each other throughout the day somehow.

The thought of you puts a pep in Astarion’s step. He checks his phone one last time to read your latest text message and feels like his heart is about to soar out of his throat. He bounces from foot to foot impatiently while waiting at the door for Wyll to come see everyone out, but as soon as that door opens, he’s darting across the parking lot to your familiar car. He never gets in a hurry for anything, but it’s different tonight.

You watch the other couples scurry to their own vehicles for their own safety. Shadowheart rides with Karlach and they’ll hang out at Rolan and Lia’s until Viconia DeVir spam texts her enough that she comes home. Wyll races to Lae’zel’s slick sports car, and seeing them make it across the parking lot is all you really care about. You turn your devout attention back to Astarion.

One might be wondering what you’ve been up to tonight, but it’s an easy answer. You were studying for your many quizzes and tests which infuriate you to no end, because college is hard and Astarion can’t help you study. Not that he would be that helpful. Luckily, Gale and Halsin are astute professors who actually don’t mind helping students — and they both have a you shaped soft spot that makes it impeccably easy for you to convince them to tutor you. They helped you go over your coursework and somehow managed to play footsie with one another under the table at the same time, although Gale kept bumping into you by accident and Halsin kept laughing. Either way, you made it through two hours of intense studying in just enough time to pick up Astarion from work.

You almost wish he had helped you study instead, but… He’s smart, coy, a future lawmaker in the making, but Astarion is gorgeous. His talents are wasted on learning laws and balancing books. To say that you wouldn’t get anything done if Astarion helped you study is an understatement. One might think you innocent enough with a cute picture of you and Astarion as your lock screen, but opening up your phone shows one of your most recent endeavors. A risque photograph of Astarion’s cum on your stomach in black-and–white to make it less scandalous, of course.

He should be a model styled in the latest Gucci and coveted by all, but you’re also increasingly biased. You’re wearing a baggy band sweater and sweatpants when he comes around the corner of the restaurant, and he’s so incredibly cute in his stupid Taco Bell uniform that you can’t help but wiggle in your seat. You unlock the door as he comes bolting to the passenger side, and he climbs in and meets you halfway for a kiss.

‘You smell like tomatoes,’ you laugh.

‘Oh, I suppose I’ll walk home then,’ he snorts.

Astarion always comes home smelling of Crunchwrap Supremes and Baja Blasts. Underneath the smell of grated cheese and refried beans and offensive-to-the-nose lemon, he smells like his personalized cologne too. You sniff him unapologetically and try to not feel giddy as he giggle-snorts his way back into the passenger seat.

You watch as he flings his hat into your backseat and begins ruffling his hair back into the usual coiled, curly hairstyle he’s usually sporting. You watch, with a quiet smile, and fight the yawn that’s been plaguing you since you set out to study anatomy around midnight.

It would be downright cringe to admit you want to study his anatomy since he smells like Taco Bell, but the uniform looks so damn good on him. It’s dorky in a way that makes your heart race. When he stretches, his shirt untucks a little and a peek of his belly shines through. That makes what you’re feeling ten times worse.

Maybe it says more about you than it does Astarion, but he would be attractive even if he was wearing a paper bag. You’ve heard the way the other students gossip about him. They like his long legs or his lean neck, or his loud personality. He’s a self-proclaimed short king with a wicked smile and a dangerous sense of humor. That’s why, no matter what he’s wearing or what he’s been doing, the sight of him makes your heart seize into your throat. You want him. You want him bad enough that you glance around the parking lot to make sure everyone is gone.

‘Was work difficult tonight?’ you ask.

‘The customers,’ Astarion groans, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. ‘Why do thirty seven high schoolers come into Taco Bell before close to order everything off the menu? It takes forever! And they’re so weird, shoving paper from their straws into their Baja Blasts and filling it with salt and pepper and hot sauce then daring their friends to drink it. Weird! Weirdos!’

‘What if I said I was hungry?’ you ask slyly.

‘Don’t even play,’ he growls. ‘I’m tired and — Oh my gods, you’ll never guess the drama from today.’

Astarion sets off on a long tangent about work related drama. His boss got into an argument with their boss and now everyone else is in trouble because someone who works the morning shift lost a set of keys. It’s nothing you’re particularly interested in, but it’s nice to hear Astarion talk to you. You adjust the radio to be quieter and turn the air up to be warmer. You’re so terrifyingly cozy you’re bound to fall asleep, but that’s okay. You lean back against your seat and close your eyes too.

‘That sounds like a mess.’

‘Aren’t you glad you don’t work?’

‘Beyond glad,’ you say.

Astarion hums. ‘How did studying go? Did you memorize anything interesting today?’

‘No,’ you say. ‘But, well, there was something I wanted your help with…’

You look across the console to watch him. He doesn’t seem as sleepy as you are. He offers you his hand and you take it just to hold it, fighting a shy smile as you do so. You give him a few more minutes to unwind after his shift before reaching for your keys in the ignition.

Astarion reaches for your hand. His fingertips slide across your upper arm to your fingers, wrapping around you to prevent you from starting the car. You swallow thickly. It’s almost like he read your —

‘You look absolutely wrecked, my dear,’ Astarion says. ‘Switch sides with me. I’ll drive us home while you doze.’

It’s a tempting offer. Being driven home. It’s the sleep deprivation that’s driving you somewhat crazy, you think, because Astarion has never looked more handsome than he does now in the passenger seat, hair tousled and uniform lopsided, and a smile on his face. Your cheeks heat up.

Oh, it’s definitely the sleep deprivation. Part of you wants to simply wait until you’ve made it home to do anything wild. But Astarion keeps looking at you, appraising you with gentle curiosity. He is unbelievably proud of you and how hard you’re working, and that appreciation is doing wonders to the thoughts inside your head. Your palms start to sweat.

You do a quick look around the parking lot one more time. It’s entirely empty now, not a single car in sight. No Lae’zel or Karlach or Wyll or anyone who would interrupt. The lone overhead light keeps blinking on and off. If you were truly concerned about your situation, you would think that it’s something out of a horror movie. Those aren’t the thoughts going on in your head. What you’re really thinking is so gross it should be humiliating. Astarion’s hand is warm on your hand, and his belly is still showing underneath his shirt that’s ridden up, and he’s tilting his chin because he’s noticed you’ve gone unusually still.

‘I don’t want to go home,’ you say in a small voice. ‘And — I’m not hungry either, not really.’

‘Oh?’ he hums. ‘What do you want to do instead?’

Ah. There it is. Your chance.

You pull your hand from his and place it on his knee, thumb pressing against the side of his thigh. Astarion’s eyes glimmer dangerously. He’s caught onto your mood. He knows exactly what you want without you even saying it.

He reclines your seat and stretches even more in your chair, his legs splayed out in front of him lazily. He’s lithe and taut, hands gripping the headrest for no other reason than he knows it makes him look gorgeous. He raises his chin like a challenge. You slide your hand up his leg and squeeze his muscle. Your mouth has gone dry, but that’ll be changed soon. You nibble the inside of your lip and pray to the gods to give you bravery.

‘You’re insatiable,’ Astarion accuses.

‘It was the textbook,’ you say defensively. ‘I studied for so long, and now my mind has wandered.’

He tsks at you in disappointment. ‘The Taco Bell parking lot of all places.’

‘Shut up.’

He laughs, nice and low and dangerous, and presses his hand flush against his belly. He pulls his shirt up a little higher and you fight desperately to keep your eyes on his face.

‘Shut up?’ he mocks. ‘Is that the best you can do?’

‘I’ll show you,’ you say brazenly, ‘what I can do.’

It’s abysmal, the lust that overtakes you. You lean over the console and watch as he raises his shirt so that you can see the smooth plane of his abdomen. He’s lithe, sleek, refined. Even in his silly little uniform, you can’t help but think about how amazing Astarion looks — and he knows that’s what is racing through your mind, because he indulges in the attention that you’re granting him. You lean forward, one hand bracing yourself against the console while the other falls against his thigh for support, and kiss gently across his belly. From one side of his waist to the other, one hip bone to the other, until you fuss enough that Astarion helps slide his work pants down his hips to his thighs.

The ridiculousness of the setting is forgotten. You lavish Astarion’s cock with attention, the tip of your tongue tracing over the svelte shape, until he’s gently lacing his fingers in your hair to help guide you along. But you know his body almost as well as you know your own. You take the tip of Astarion’s cock into your mouth and kiss it. You graze your teeth carefully over the skin and feel his leg tense in anticipation, and slowly, you swallow it inch by inch.

His cock jerks in your mouth, growing and hardening beneath your careful ministrations. After being together for so long, you know what he likes. He likes slow and languid strokes. He likes when you hum and sometimes when you try to suck him as far down as you can, but you also know that he likes the occasional graze of your teeth, and you’ve barely touched him when he moans softly under his breath as if it’s humiliating to him how needy he is for you as well.

It isn’t the most comfortable position to be in. The gear shift is rigging uncomfortably into your ribs, and the sound of your leather seats sliding against your skin is an unwanted addition, but you’re mesmerized by the way Astarion tastes on your tongue.

Even after a long shift, he still smells immaculate. Your laundry soap overpowers almost everything else, and his satiny tip is salty with precum, but you’ve always enjoyed that taste more than anything else. You mouth gently against the length of him, kissing and sucking and tracing patterns against his cock with your tongue. The touch causes his hand to tighten in your hair, not enough that it hurts, but enough that you’re reminded of him.

It’s comforting, the feeling of his hand in your hair as he guides you up and down his length. It reminds you of less busy days when there’s no studying and no work shifts to be had. In the summer, you often spend your days stretched out across Astarion’s bed while he reads or writes, and you have more than enough sex to pass the times.

It’s far less organized here, but you take your time swallowing around his cock, sliding him as far down as you can into the back of your throat until Astarion is making little, wild noises. He’s trying to keep quiet, and you do your best to peek at him from the angle you’re at. He might as well be a work of art with how he looks. His eyebrows are taut, and he’s biting his bottom lip so ferociously you think you ought to be concerned. Astarion’s eyes soften when he notices you’re watching, and that’s more than what you need to sit up and slide your sweatshirt off over your head. It’s peak romanticism to fuck nasty in the empty Taco Bell parking lot.

You lean forward and take Astarion’s cock into your mouth again with intent. It’s not the most comfortable angle to suck him off at, but you’re determined to keep his eyes on you even if it means you’ll have the world's sorest neck in the morning. Because you’re watching, Astarion makes an effort to watch you as well. He fights against the fluttering of his eyelashes, determined to see you until the very end.

His skin is soft and hot against your tongue, and you focus on breathing through your nose and fight against your own budding arousal. You want to feast on him, to give him something to enjoy since it was your idea to do something like this in your car. You pay close attention to the soft tip of his cock as you suckle it, pressing little licks against the underside of his head, moaning softly even though your elbows are beginning to ache from the angle. You would bring him to completion like this if he would let you, but you can tell by the way his eyes seem to burn that he has other plans.

‘You’re insatiable,’ Astarion repeats, laughing low in the back of his throat.

He lifts you by the chin and kisses you, unfazed by the spit and the drool and the slightly salty taste that sits on the tip of your tongue. If Astarion wasn’t into it, he would let you know. But if you’re insatiable, then he’s equally as deranged. He guides you over the console and into his lap, pulling and tugging at your sweatpants and underwear until they’re around your ankles.

You do try to keep some sense of decency. You push your sweatshirt in a bundle against the front window like that’ll do anything to hide the scene, and he leans his seat as far back as he possibly can without straining too much. Now is not the time for romance, you decide. You’re used to begging Astarion to fuck you, to batting your eyelashes and playing up how shy you are about your wants and needs, but there’s no time for that now at three in the morning. You rut against him, holding his hands against your hips.

It goes without saying that the lewdness of the situation does cause your cheeks to flush. You hide your face into Astarion’s neck and try to pray away the shame. But you aren’t ashamed of your lust, you aren’t ashamed of your desire — Your only concern is the embarrassment of how close to Astarion you want to be, never mind the faint perfume of the Fiesta Veggie Burrito that clings to his skin.

You worm your way into his lap fully, feeling how hard his cock is between your legs, and grind against the thickness of it. He guides your movement ever so carefully, murmuring sweet things into your hair that he wouldn’t be caught dead saying to anyone else. You’re amazing, don’t hide yourself from me, let us enjoy this together, and all other lyrics that Astarion is proud of. Finally, you reach between your thighs and take his cock into your hands, guiding it inside of you. You don’t have time to tease him, to take your time lowering yourself against his hips until he’s gripping your hips so hard you might bruise. You sink down onto him as quickly as you can, and gasp once you’re fully seated.

Gods, you’ll never get used to the feeling of him inside. He’s so thick and long that you feel impossibly full, that any movement you make will make you cum right then and there. Your hands always shake when you’ve taken him all the way to the hilt, and you bite your bottom lip to focus on the task at hand. This isn’t just about you and how easy it is to make your core burst with pleasure. This is about Astarion too. You want to thank him for all his hard work, to praise him even though he hates it, and you smile. Astarion smiles too. His eyes always get so soft when he looks at you… He’s never looked happier than he has when he looks at you.

Astarion’s hands rub soothingly up and down your spine. The touch is encouraging, is relaxing, and distracting. But no matter how hard he tries, he can't distract you from the way he looks up at you adoringly, almost as if he’s ever seen anything like it before. You relish in the heavy weight of his gaze, tilting your chin so that he can admire everything, and he does. Astarion watches you like someone would admire art at a gallery. He follows every line of your body that he can see, the curve of your neck, the fragility of your cheekbones, and runs his hands against your skin as though it’s the first time he’s ever felt it. It makes you feel special.

And of course, you are special. You were Astarion’s first after a string of countless conquests.

Astarion rubs his hands up against your sides, clasping his fingers taut around your waist so that he can guide you along the length of his cock. It’s all so simple. Astarion likes touching you in whatever way he can manage, especially after hours apart. You spend most of your time familiarizing yourself with the warmth of his hands as he traces his fingers against your spine, or pets through your hair, or massages any tense muscles that might be frustrating you.

He’s even more handsy during sex. You haven’t even moved yet, and he’s tugging at you, biting his lip as if that’ll keep him from trembling. Astarion has always been sensitive, but the recklessness of the situation seems to have riled him up. He paws at your hips. He’s desperate, intent, for some sort of sensation and you’re equally as needy, an overwhelming fullness causing you to shift your weight one more time so that you can balance on either side of his thighs without too much discomfort in a cramped space. You swallow, and slowly, pull yourself off his cock until you’re painfully empty again.

Astarion pushes his hands up beneath your undershirt. You stole it from his side of the bed before you came, somewhat desperate to be wrapped up in his scent. He presses his cheek against yours, and you kiss him — biting the swell of his lower lip and lapping at his tongue when he hums in response. He parts his lips for you and you kiss him messily, turned on by the way he arches at your intuitiveness.

It’s only then that you start really grinding against his lap, pushing his cock back against your core and rising off of it again, bouncing in his lap as he encourages you to do so. Astarion smiles against your teeth and digs his fingers into the curve of your ass. He pulls against his chest and further into his lap, filling you so full of his cock and encouraging you to rut against his hips so that the feel of it is the only thing you can think of.

Astarion is everywhere.

In your thoughts, in your mouth, in your body and mind.

‘Impatient,’ you whisper to him, trying to still your hips but even the thought of him sitting there while you take your pleasure is enough to send tingles down to your toes.

‘As if I’ll ever have enough of you,’ he murmurs in response. He tilts his chin back and offers you his throat. You bite the tender space beneath his jaw and suckle the skin, tasting a bruise blossom beneath your tongue. ‘O — Oh, that’s it.’

Astarion practically purrs as you leave your mark against his skin. You focus on that, claiming his neck right above the collar of his work shirt so that everyone will know the truth. Astarion Ancunín is yours.

‘Like that,’ he whispers soothingly.

Astarion shows his neediness like this, moaning faintly as you turn your attention to making another hickey. While you do that, he helps you grind and ride his cock, his fingers tucked neatly in the junction where your ass meets your thighs. He pulls you up and down his length without any strain, and it thrills you so much that your toes curl and you try to squeeze your thighs together. You whine against his throat.

‘You’re not the only one who doesn’t play fair,’ Astarion warns you.

He uses all of the strength you forget he has to bounce you in his lap. The pleasure is so intense it distracts you from your artwork, and you cry against his collarbone and cling to him. His cock causes you to feel empty and full — like you’ll never get enough of what he has to offer you.

And, well, any thoughts of playing fair after that have gone out the window along with your shame. The front seat of your car is cramped and tight, but you’re not really thinking about comfort as you chase that heat between your legs for something greater. Astarion does most of the work for you between the way he talks nasty and fucks even nastier, unable to keep his hands to himself for even a few seconds.

If his hands aren’t cradling your ass, then they’re beneath your thighs and if they aren’t there, it’s because he wants to torment you further by fucking into you hard by holding onto your hips as hard as his trembling hands will allow him.

Everything feels way too tight. The walls of your car seem to be caving in, and your clothes are suddenly clinging to you in a way that’s bothersome. You want to be closer to Astarion, to have fully melded your bodies together — and you curse the setting because if you had just been patient, you’d be halfway home to a comfortable bed.

‘You’re naughty,’ Astarion whispers, and it does something for you. ‘Did you miss me — Oh fuck, that’s good.’

You bite his neck to keep him from talking. If Astarion talks, you’re going to lose whatever decorum you have left. You wrap your arms around his neck and whine softly in his ear, nuzzling against his warm skin.

‘I missed you,’ you whisper against his neck.

‘I know you did,’ he murmurs, stroking your hip. ‘I can — Mm, I can tell how badly you missed me. Look at how well you’re riding my cock.’

‘Astarion — ’

‘I love the way you say my name,’ Astarion whispers fiercely. ‘I could listen to it all night and day. Say it again for me, pet. I’ll make you say my name.’

Heat causes your cheeks to flush. You’ll never get used to the casual way he says the raunchiest things, and yet, you can’t help but shiver against his chest at the observation. You wouldn’t have said that you were doing well at it. The roof is short, your legs are cramping, but somehow, that makes the feeling even better. There isn’t much room for you to go, and for that you’re grateful. It means Astarion can’t tease you endlessly with the length of his cock. Every move you make has to be short, frantic, calculated, and the tip of Astarion’s cock is pressed so deeply against your core that you can barely stand it.

‘Oh, it’s so much,’ you gasp.

‘Yeah?’ he muses. ‘You were made for me. You were made to take my cock. You’ll take it for me, you’ll cum for me.’

He uses his knowledge of all your favorite tricks against you. You cannot escape his grasp, one arm wound tight around your waist while the other now presses lightly against the nape of your neck. Astarion kisses the side of your mouth passionately and keeps you even closer than the limits of your surroundings. That riles you up even more.

‘I want to — I want to, Astarion, oh — ’

You drag your hips up carelessly, unburdened by shame or nervousness. You’ve known Astarion since your first day in the city, and you’ve been through enough and had each other enough to no longer feel embarrassed by your needs, not that Astarion had ever let you feel insecure about anything. You whine against his neck, and he kisses you fully then, a pouty mouth against your needy tongue, and then you maneuver yourself in his lap so perfectly that it catches Astarion off-guard and he moans fully against your chin.

You lose yourself in the feeling and the sound. Astarion’s moans sound even better in a tight, enclosed space. His voice is soft, low, dangerous when it needs to be, and he only becomes this unraveled with you.

It’s an intoxicating feeling. You cry softly, nose bumping against his, and fall apart at the sound of his arousal, the feeling of his fingers dancing across the back of your neck, the sharp ecstasy that burns like a wildfire in the center of your stomach. You want to chase your release now. To find it in his lap, against his throat, softly and hoarsely in his ear. But you aren’t ready, not yet, and it takes all of your nerves to pull away.

It’s humid inside the car now. You take a quick look at the sight. You reach for stability, your palm sliding against the fogged window, smearing a glance into the darkness outside. You rest your other hand against the center console and arched your back, height leveraged against Astarion so that he can see you fully. He’s quick to respond to your change in position, no longer kneeling forward, but high above him like you’re sitting on a throne.

Astarion’s hands slide beneath the shirt you have left, palms trailing smoothly up the arc of your belly, warming the skin of your chest. He sighs handsomely and stares at you, leaning back so that he might enjoy the sight of you fully. And now that you’re able to, you’re able to pull fully all the way off the length of him, leaving him without the feel of you clenched tight around his cock. You’re only able to wait a few seconds for your own sake before you’re wiggling all the way back down until you are right back to where the gods want you to be.

‘You look delicious,’ Astarion says proudly, wearing a familiar half-smile.

‘For you,’ you confess. And it’s true.

‘You always look so beautiful to me,’ Astarion says in a tone that reminds you of when a cat has had its fair share of milk. He’s preening, cocksure. ‘Go on,’ he adds. ‘Fuck yourself for me.’

You swallow hard and do as ordered with a different rhythm. No longer do you seek out slow assured strokes. These are quick movements, careless, unpracticed and unmeasured, and Astarion helps you with two thumbs pressed against your stomach. It’s his turn to lean as far back as he can to give you all the room you need, and while it isn’t perfect, it’s probably the second hottest thing the two of you have done together. Fucking in a car in an empty parking lot. Your fingers slip against the window and Astarion catches you by the elbow, sliding his hand up your forearm so that he can wrap his fingers around yours.

‘Like that, beautiful,’ he says encouragingly, helping you. ‘You’re close, aren’t you? Don’t you want to?’

You nod, unable to trust how your words would sound. One way or another, he always gets what he wants, and you know that with enough time and focus on your pleasure, Astarion will have you mewling.

‘Come on, baby,’ Astarion encourages you, and you can’t help but follow his every command. ‘I love the way you ride me — I was made to fill you up, you take my cock so well.’

His words only make you even more frenzied, riding him to the best of your abilities just so he’ll say something sweet about you again. He babbles nonsensical things about you, and if you were in a clearer headspace, you’d be able to make out his words but all you understand now is the nerves building up in the very bottom of your stomach as you chase satisfaction, so determined to see his face once it’s all over.

He coos at you, chin tilting all the way back so you’re able to stare at his pale throat. A gorgeous throat, sleek and elegant, wearing proof of your existence in little bruises and bites that are both new and almost healed. You want to bite him again, to let your teeth graze his Adam’s apple while he talks about politics that you barely understand, and with that, you reach for the back of his neck so that you can slam your mouths together in a clumsy kiss. Astarion hisses, and then he’s biting your lower lip until it swells, and you kiss him so sweetly your head spins.

And from there, you don’t last long. Your legs are shaking harder than they’ve ever shook before, and your chest feels so tight and your cheeks feel so hot that you’re almost incapable of thinking. All you see and know is Astarion. Astarion, lounging against your passenger seat, his own cheeks ruddy and his expression twisted in pleasure. You cry out and collapse forward, burrowing into his chest as tightly as you can. He wraps his arms around you, kisses your temple.

‘Astarion, Astarion, please!’

‘Just like that, my love — ’ he gasps against your crown, grunting as his release hits him hard. ‘Like that, my pet, you’re perfect, my dear, my dear heart — ’

Your core tightens at his sweet words, and then it’s your churn to choke out a hoarse cry as pleasure races through your spine so sharply that it must hurt. You bite down on his shoulder for comfort, moaning as you try to come to your senses.

It’s somehow both hot and cold inside your little car. Everything is sticky with sweat, and the moisture in the air has started to cause Astarion’s hair to frizz up. You’re boneless. It’s only fair that he takes it upon himself to pull you up from his cock, tucking you back into your baggy sweatpants. You hover awkwardly, his cum on your thighs, while he drags his work pants up his slender thighs. You aren’t sure who is groggier, but when you glance at the clock on the dashboard, mild horror thickens in your stomach. You feel faint.

It might have been nearly three in the morning when Astarion was released from his duties, but it’s now four in the morning, give or take a few minutes. You start to make your way over to the driver’s side again, about to inelegantly climb across the center console when Astarion grabs you by the waist and kisses the side of your head gently.

‘You stay put,’ he mumbles. He sounds positively fucked thorough.

‘I made you stay up late,’ you say guiltily, but he shrugs.

‘Honestly, you did all the hard work,’ he says with a snort. ‘Lay back and close your eyes, darling. I’ll drive. Thank the gods it's the weekend.’

He opens the passenger door, and the cool air of the morning smells so refreshing to the smell of sex that permeates everything else. He stretches for a minute before coming back. He kisses your forehead tenderly, nudging your nose with his.

‘Love you,’ you murmur.

‘Love you,’ he says.

It all happens so quickly. You’re faintly aware of the sound of Astarion snapping his seatbelt in, your car humming to life, an Alfira ballad playing so quietly in the background it might as well not even be on. You’re so warm and toasty that you can’t keep yourself from leaning your head against the window. If you fall asleep before the first redlight, Astarion doesn’t say anything. All you can recall once you get home is a strong pair of arms holding you tightly, and the pillow you stole from his side of the bed, and his back against your chest.

As it should be.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #astarion smut #bg3 smut #from ，carcosa .#anonymous #my fic #taco bell tag

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niiwa-angel · 27 days ago

Text

I got sucked into the Hellaverse again, so here are some incorrect quotes for you.

~~~

Clara and Odette, both intelligent but their brain cells cancel each other's out. Building a fort.

Clara: Odette. Where's the door?

Odette: It's right there.

Clara: where?

Odette: Right there, I drew it in outline.

Clara: So how are we gonna get out?

Odette: We'll get the power drill.

Clara: So go get the power drill.

Odette: Okay I will!

Odette, goes to walk out and realizes she's locked in.

Odette: I see the problem.

Clara: Oh do ya?!

~~~

Vox: They're shipping us.

Alastor, panicked: To where?!?!

~~~

Zestial: Modern technology continues to baffle me.

The technology in question: telegrams.

~~~

Charlie: you're my angel! (Romantic)

Vaggie: panicked exterminator noises

~~~

Cherri Bomb: If he doesn't treat you right, you're fine!

Angel Dust: I'm gone!

Cherri Bomb: Now go chop his dick off!

~~~

Valentino: what are you wearing?

Vox, wearing a shark onesie: it's my ass kicking outfit.

~~~

Rosie and Alastor, gossiping. Alastor gets roped into modeling for one of her outfits.

Rosie: Now! Do you, or do you not, feel bonita?

Alastor, tired: I feel bonita.

Rosie: Wonderful! Because you look bonita!

~~~

Velvette, working nonstop before a show: what if I poured Beelzebub Energy into my cereal instead of milk?

Vox, snatching the can from her: what if you don't?

~~~

Keekee: mew

Husk: good point. I hadn't considered that.

Charlie: can he actually talk to cats or is he just that drunk?

Alastor, also buzzed and ready to cause problems on purpose: I understood her just fine. Maybe you're the only one who can't.

Charlie: ??

~~~

Lucifer: Check out my new snake skin shoes!

Sir Pentious: offended snake noises.

~~~

Nifty: Alastor? Can I take the skin off this furby? I want to make him a god. I want him to transcend the mortal realm. I want to free him from the Co fines of the flesh!

Nifty: And his fur is dirty, I need to clean it.

Alastor: I literally could not care less but never ask me something that creepy again.

~~~

Zestial: I need thine assistance again.

Odette, sighing deeply: you just have to hit the button Zesti, it's not complicated.

Zestial, finally hitting"I am not a robot" on the Capcha.

#hazbin hotel #incorrect hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel zestial #carmilla carmine #odette #clara #charlie morningstar #vaggie #angel dust #husk #alastor #vox #velvette #rosie #nifty

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winchesterwild78 · 4 months ago

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Behind the Scenes pt 8

Master List

Minors DNI 18+

Warnings: fluff, quick moment of Smut (I mean come on, it is a wedding.), then more sweetness

A/N: The wedding is here! Please enjoy this last chapter. This is a work of fiction. No disrespect to Jensen or Jared or their families. *kinda a long chapter, with a slight time jump*

I edited this fast- please forgive any mistakes

This is my original work, do not take it.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

*Time Jump 9 months*

“Jens, can you get Tristan ready? I need to take a quick shower before we head out.” You called from the bedroom. Jensen walked into Tristan’s nursery and looked at his 9 month old son. Tristan sat up in his crib and held his arms up “daadaa”. Tristan looked at Jensen and smiled. “Hey little man. How was your nap?” Tristan babbled as Jensen picked him up.

Jensen walked him over to the changing table and started to change him. “We’ve gotta get you looking handsome. Mommy and Daddy are getting married tomorrow so tonight we get to see Nana, Poppop, Grammy and Pawpaw and the rest of the family. Uncle Jared and Aunt Gen will be there too.” Jensen continued talking as he got Tristan ready.

You finished getting ready and walked past the nursery and stopped to watch Jensen. These past 9 months have been incredible, Jensen and you were in awe of how fast Tristan was growing, the two of you planned your wedding and you had both gone back to work on the show.

You were thankful you were able to take Tristan with you and he was even featured in a few episodes as Lilah’s and Sam’s son. The studio was incredible and so accommodating. Your wedding came in the middle of the shooting schedule, but there was a planned week break starting two days before the wedding. Misha had taken an online class to become ordained so he could perform your ceremony. Everything was falling into place.

Jensen, Tristan and you arrived at the ceremony location to do the rehearsal. Misha pulled you aside to talk to you about a surprise you two had been working on for Jensen. “Hey, Y/N, just wanted to let you know everything is good to go.” You smiled and thanked him.

Jensen’s brother and Jared were going to be standing with him for the ceremony. You had asked your best friend, Y/F/N, and Gen to stand up with you.

Jared and Gen’s oldest, Tom, was asked to help Tristan down the aisle in his wagon. He loved the idea. The other two, Shep and Odette were in the wedding too.

You stood at the end of the aisle waiting for your cue. You walked towards Jensen and the rehearsal continued. Misha talked about some of the things he was going to say tomorrow and what to expect.

Once the rehearsal was done everyone gathered for some food and fun. Tristan was getting fussy so you took him outside for some air. Jensen followed you out. “Hey, Y/N, is everything okay with him?” “Yeah, I think he’s just partied out. Too much excitement for one day.” You smiled and kissed Tristan’s head. Jensen wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead. “I’ll let Mom know, I know she’s probably getting tired too.” You smiled and nodded.

Jensen’s parents were taking Tristan for the next two nights, so you can rest before tomorrow and you and Jensen can have time alone on your wedding night. You were incredibly thankful for them.

A few minutes later Jensen’s parents came out with him to get Tristan. You kissed him goodnight and hugged your in-laws. When they were gone you stayed outside for a few more minutes with Jensen. He was standing behind you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest.

“Whatcha thinking about sweetheart?” “Just this past year. It’s been a crazy, wonderful ride. I got an awesome job, met an incredible man, had his baby, and now we are getting married. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up from a dream.” You looked over your shoulder and smiled at him. “I’m glad it isn’t a dream. I love you and Tristan so much. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

He kissed your neck and led you back inside. “Are you all set to stay at Jared’s tonight?” Jensen nodded, and you pouted. “Hey, it’s only for one night.” He smiled and lifted your chin. Jensen leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, passionate kiss. You moaned a little and he deepened the kiss. “Okay guys, break it up. Save it for the honeymoon.” Jared yelled from across the room.

You blushed and Jensen laughed. “I love you, Y/N.” “I love you too, Jensen.” “Let me walk you to your car, sweetheart.” Jensen placed his hand on the small of your back and guided you outside.

The air was thick with excitement and anticipation. You leaned into his chest, taking in his scent. He always smelled amazing, even after time at the gym. You breathed deeply and his large arms pulled you into a tight embrace. He kissed the top of your head. The two of you stood there for what seemed like hours, just holding each other. You nor he wanted to let go.

“Baby, I don’t want to leave, but we both need our rest. I’d hate to take pictures tomorrow and look like we haven’t slept in a year.” You slowly pulled yourself from his arms. Jensen held your hand as he walked you around to the driver’s side of your car. He opened the door and you climbed in. Jensen leaned down and into the car, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “I love you so much, sweetheart. Text me when you get home.” “I love you too, Jens, and I will.”

He closed your door and you left, heading back to your empty home. When you walked inside you took out your phone and sent Jensen a text.

You: I’m home, babe. Door is locked and I’m heading to bed soon.

Jensen: I’m glad you made it home, we just got back to Jared’s house. I’m heading to bed soon too. I can’t wait to marry you tomorrow, my love.

You: I can’t wait either. I love you, Jensen Ross Ackles!!

Jensen: I love you too, Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, soon to be Mrs. Ackles! ❣️

You: You’re adorable. Good night baby

Jensen: I know I am. 😀 Good night to you too.

You got ready for bed and climbed into your bed. You were exhausted but had a hard time falling asleep. You finally laid on Jensen’s pillow and were able to drift off to sleep.The sound of your phone ringing woke you up early the next morning. It was Gen.

“Hello” you said sleepily. “Hey! Are you up?” Gen gleefully asked. “I am now.” You yawned. “Girl, I'll be there in 5 minutes to help you start getting ready. I’m so excited.” You smiled and got up. You took a look in the mirror and smiled.

“Today is the day you finally become Mrs. Jensen Ackles.” You took a deep breath and went downstairs. Gen knocked on the door and you let her in. “Go take a shower, and I’ll make you some breakfast.” She smiled. You hugged her and went upstairs to take a shower. Before you got in the shower a text message came through.

Jensen: Good morning my beautiful bride. I’m counting the hours until we say “I do”

You: Good morning my handsome husband. I am too. I’ll be the one at the end of the aisle in the dress with the flowers.

Jensen: I can’t wait to see your dress, and then take it off of you. I missed you sleeping in my arms last night.

You: You’re bad. 😊 I missed you too. I’m jumping in the shower. I’ll see you in a few hours. I love you.

Jensen: I am too. I love you too.

You jumped in the shower letting the warm water envelop you. Once you got out you threw on some comfy clothes and went downstairs. Gen had just finished making breakfast and coffee. You sat down and smiled, thanking her for cooking. The two of you ate and talked. “Once we finish eating we should head to the venue to start getting you ready and get your pictures taken before the ceremony.” You nodded and finished your coffee and food.

About an hour later you and Gen were on your way to the venue. You walked in the bridal suite and saw your dress hanging and waiting for you. The people you hired to do your hair and makeup had arrived shortly after you. They were actually the hair and makeup team for Supernatural. You told them you didn’t trust anyone else to do your hair and makeup for your wedding than them.

A few hours later you were ready and your dress was on. Standing in the bridal suite you were fidgeting nervously when there was a knock at the door. Gen walked over to answer it and it was Jared. Jared stepped in “You look beautiful, Y/N.” He pulled you in for a hug. “Jensen asked me to give you this.” He handed you a small box wrapped with a bow. You thanked him and smiled. You opened the box and it was a gold heart shaped locket. You opened it and on one side was a picture of Jensen and the other was a picture of Tristan. On the back was engraved “All Our Own”.

You put it on and touched it. You handed Jared a small bag and told him it was for Jensen. He hugged you and left the room. Jared walked in the room where Jensen was and smiled. “She’s absolutely beautiful, man. She loved the locket and asked me to give you this.” Jared handed Jensen the bag. Jensen opened it and found a beautiful pocket watch. He opened it up and saw a picture of you holding Tristan. On the back you had engraved “All Our Own”. Jensen chuckled and showed Jared.

Jared laughed “Great minds, huh.” “Well, it’s time to start the ceremony. Are you ready Jens?” “Yes, more than ready.”

Jensen, Jared and Jensen’s brother walked out and down the aisle. As they walked they greeted everyone and Jensen thanked them for coming. The next surprise that you had planned was about to show up. You had Gen recording, because you wanted to see Jensen’s reaction.

Misha walked out to stand at the front and laughter erupted in the venue. Jensen turned and started laughing his deep laugh. Misha was dressed in his Castiel costume. You and Misha had decided “The Angel of the Lord” should perform the ceremony.

Gen walked back to you and told you Jensen and everyone loved it. You smiled and grabbed your flowers. After everyone walked down the aisle it was your turn. You took a deep breath and stepped out. Looking forward and directly at Jensen. His green eyes sparkled with tears and his face beamed as you walked closer.

When you got to the end of the aisle you handed your bouquet to Gen, and took Jensen’s hands. He leaned over and said “You are absolutely breathtaking. I am the luckiest man alive.” He gently kissed your cheek.

Misha performed the ceremony in Cass’ voice, and added some jokes in. At the end of the ceremony Misha said “By the power vested in me by the internet and Chuck, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Jensen, you may now kiss your bride…again.” Jensen leaned you back and kissed you. As the two of you turned Misha announced “It is my pleasure to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Jensen Ackles.”

The two of you walked back up the aisle to cheers and applause. Jensen led you back to the bridal suite and shut the door. As soon as the door was shut Jensen leaned you up against it and placed a deep passionate kiss on your lips. His hands slid up the bodice of your dress and cupped your breast. You were moaning into his mouth. “God I missed you sweetheart, I can’t wait. I need you now!” Jensen growled. He reached over and locked the door. “Jensen, if you mess up my hair before our pictures our families will kill you.” You laughed. “Don’t worry, I won’t”, he smirked. You clenched your thighs together at that look in his eye.

Jensen pulled you away from the door and laid you on the couch. He lifted your dress up and slid down your panties. “I need you right now, please.” Jensen looked at you with lust filled eyes. You bit your lip and nodded. His hand disappeared under your dress, finding your sweet spot. You moaned and bucked your hips. His fingers inserted into your wetness and he made you cum so fast you didn’t have time to process what happened.

You leaned up and kissed him and started to unbuckle his pants. He had already discarded his suit jacket. He removed his hardened length and you leaned over the couch. Jensen lifted your dress up and slid in you from behind. He bottomed out fast and you both let out a moan. His hips moved fast. His thighs slamming into the back of yours as his hands gripped your hips.

There was a knock on the door, it was Jared. “Hey guys, we need you for pictures.” “We’re kinda busy right now, we’ll be out in a minute.” Jensen yelled back. You giggled and Jared yelled “Damn, brother, couldn’t wait?” You were too focused on Jensen to worry if Jared was still at the door.

Jensen’s thrusts got faster and you felt him pulse as he filled you with his seed with a grunt. He pulled out and quickly grabbed a towel for you. He didn’t want anything to ruin your dress. After you were clean, he cleaned himself up. You giggled as you fixed your dress and he pulled on his pants. “God that was great, Y/N. I missed you so much!” Jensen kissed your lips and you smiled. “Come on baby, let’s go before Jared breaks down the door.” The two of you walked out of the room hand in hand. A few people looked at you and smirked, but most of them ignored you. Once pictures were done, it was time for the reception.

During the reception, food and drink were endless and the dancing was fantastic. It was time for your and Jensen’s dance. He took you by the hand and led you to the dance floor. The song “Wanted” by Hunter Hayes played as the two of you swayed together. Jensen twirled you near the end of the song and as you came back into his arms, he dipped you kissing your lips and whispered “I’ll always love you, Mrs. Ackles, now and forever.” You placed your head on his chest and replied “And I’ll always love you, Mr. Ackles, now and forever.”

The End

Tags: @nescaveckdaily @kr804573 @k-slla @jackles010378 @jawritter

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @roseblue373 @cheynovak @jassackles @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa @n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78 @smoothdogsgirl

@hobby27 @manicjk @stoneyggirl2 @1-read-the-hobbit-in-1937

#hes gorgeous #so damn sexy #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x plus size reader #jackles #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles x reader

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ohtobeleah · 1 year ago

Text

Lessons in Love & War // Bradley Bradshaw

-> A Terms of Endearment Blurb

Summary: On one of your first shifts back at work after the events of ToE. Odette is plagued with an illness that sends her to the emergency room with a very panicked Bradley Bradshaw.

Warnings: Fever. appendicitis. Relationship miscommunication, misguided anger. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Jake Seresin x F!platonic!reader.

Word Count: 3.8k

Author Note: Day Eighteen of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Fever/Separated from loved ones. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Those were your days off. Tuesday and Thursday were the days that you bravely stepped outside your little bubble of peace and went back to work doing what you loved. No one in their right mind was about to stop you either, you could handle two full days at a time. Two days in one week was enough for you right now. Mav was in full support of you and Rooster sharing your full time hours. He went in to bat for you whenever the topic was brought up to the higher ups. He was your unofficial proxy.

“Oh hi there Dotty girl.” You weren’t ready to send your little girl back to daycare yet either. So Odette spent her days with her favourite person besides you, her Tooster, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. “What's got you all sad?”

Bradley had been doing some work on his laptop–he was reading up on the signs, symptoms and possible characteristics of depression. You were just a little off at the moment, with good reason. You'd been through so much–more than anyone ever deserved to be put through.

“My tummy huwts Tooster–” Odette mumbled through tired eyes as she padded into the dinning room with her blanky, sucking her thumb. She had been feeling under the weather for a few days now, since Monday–It was now Thursday and she hadn’t started to get better in the slightest bit.

“Oh sweet girl, come here.” Bradley cooed as he reached out for the little girl who had stolen his heart, he scooped her up under her armpits and sat her on his lap. The first thing Bradley noticed was the heat Odette had to her. “Holy crap, you're burning up baby girl.” He frowned as he placed the back of his hand to her forehead. “You've got a bit of a fever there.” It was worrying, especially since Odette had already had some children Tylenol not long before you left for work. How long had she had a fever for?

“My tummy huwts–” She nearly sobbed as her little head lulled to the side, she placed her cheek against Rooter's chest to listen to his heartbeat. The kiss he planted on the top of her head as he rocked his knees back and forth to soothe your daughter told Odette that she was safe, that her Tooster would make her feel better. “Tooster–”

“I know baby, I know.” But the fact of the matter was Bradley didn't know. Sure he’d lay his life down on the line for Odette, but he really had no idea how to act when she was sick. It broke his heart to see the usually so energetic and full of life extension of you so down in the dumps and sick as a dog. She hadnt been her usual self for a few days and it was unnerving to say the very least. He did his best however, to keep a confident front up that he had this covered while you were gone.

Bradley Bradshaw was confident and wise enough to take care of a sick three year old. How serious could a flu be? Or a tummy bug as you were pretty sure it was.

“How about I make you some soup and we watch cartoons and hang out on the lounge for the rest of the day?” All Odette did in response was nod very tiredly. She hadn’t been sleeping through the night and the little sleep she was getting, was in between you and Rooster, where she felt safest and where you felt like she belonged right now.

Odette didnt eat her soup, Bradley had tried to get her to have a few spoonfuls of the pureed pumpkin and sweet potato soup he’d heated over the stove but it was to no avail. Your little girl was not having a bar of it before the tears started.

“Oh sweetheart, don't cry.” Bradley cooed as Odette snuggled as close as she could into her Tooster.

“My Tummy huwts Tooster make it stowp.” Dot mumbled into Rooster's shirt, clinging to him for dear life as she climbed his torso and laid herself flat as she could on him. All Bradley did was try his best to soothe the clearly uncomfortable three year old he’d been left in charge of today.

“How about we get you some more medicine to make you feel a little better?” It was the only thing he could really think of in the moment, Dot hadn’t been well sure, but this was a whole new level of unwell. “We’ll get a washcloth for your forehead too baby, that might help.” Bradley was starting to realise that he may or may not have been in over his head with this. He hadn’t gone through this before, he hadn’t ever had to worry so deeply about a child not being well before. He wanted so desperately to take Odette's pain away. He wanted so desperately to make her feel all better like you somehow always managed too. But this seemed more serious than just a cold or flu or random stomach ache.

And when little three year old Odette Dolan (Bradshaw) started to scream, cry and throw up in the bath Bradley tried to run for her to help her feel better, he didn't know what to do. He knew it wasn't just her being scared of the bath, because she’d been really good in it as of late. The past few weeks she’d gone without a fuss so long as Tooster and you were in it with her. But right now, as Bradley rubbed small circles into her little back and watched as she dry heaved into the bow he held under her chin, he knew he had to take her to people who could actually make her feel better.

“I think we need to take you to the hospital baby girl.” He sighed to himself, watching as her tears streamed down her puffy face. She hadnt eaten all day, hadnt cried this hard ever. She was in pain–Bradley could clearly see that. “Let's get you dressed and I'm gonna take you alright, see some doctors so that they can help.” Before Bradley could think about helping Odette out of the bath, she slumped into his hold, completely exhausted from crying and trying to throw up. Her fever had yet to break and she was burning up. “Okay, Okay–” That's when the panic really set in. “We’re going right now baby I've got you.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“You know I’d ask what exactly it is that you’re doing—“ Jake made sure to make himself known as he entered your hanger. “But I’ve come to learn overtime that that question doesn’t always have such a good answer.” He didn’t want to scare you, he knew that coming back to work was what you needed in order to move on, get back into a normal routine and make an effort to keep yourself from completely falling apart. The day had almost passed you by and you’d only caught yourself thinking about Jaidyn Dolan like….seven hundred times.

“I tried to call Roo at lunch to see how things are going at home but he hasn’t returned my call.” You replied while you sat at your workshop desk, working on a part Jake couldn’t quite pick. “Tell me everything’s fine, that we’re okay?” He knew what you meant, you didn’t need to elaborate or explain yourself. Jake knew, hell he knew because that very morning he’d woken Amilia up with his horrendous screams. He’d called out for Bob in the void of darkness.

“Dots sick isn’t she?” Jake sighed as he stood behind you, watching carefully as you worked. He didn’t want to point out that you were tapping your leg up and down like a mad woman or mention that you were tensing your shoulders, so instead he bent over to kiss the top of your head and kept his hands firmly on your shoulders. “They’re fine Fe—if anything Bradshaws probably just spending his day off sleeping and watching Repunzel for the thirteenth time.” You couldn’t help but to smile at the thought. “Trust me, they’re good, we’re good, everyone’s good and accounted for.”

“Thanks—“ It was like Jake had talked you down from some metaphorical ledge that you’d been standing on, ready to jump. Only you had been contemplating leaving work early to race home and make sure two of the most important people in your life are safe. “You’re right, he’s probably just sleeping with Dotty.”

“I can almost guarantee it.” Jake replied. “Besides, you’re off soon enough, no need to stress when everything’s okay Fe.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Everything was not okay. Bradley Bradshaw had never been more freaked out in his entire life. He hated seeing Odette this way, so sick and visibly in pain. This had to be more than just a stomach ache, her fever hadn’t broken in hours, she wasn't keeping food or fluids down and she could barely keep her little head upright as he carried her into the emergency room of the Miramar Base Hospital.

“Sir–?” The triage nurse was immediately on her feet when she saw Rooster through the little window. “Bring her right in.” Bradley did exactly that, he took the little girl who was burning up in his arms right into the triage room so that Odette could be assessed. “Who do we have here?” The nurse asked softly as she set up her station.

“This is Odette, Uh–Dot, she prefers Dot.” Bradley cooed as he sat down on the empty chair with Odette still clinging to him. “She my daughter, well, kinda, I’m her mothers partner and I’m one of her medical proxies and emergency contacts.” Bradley felt like all eyes were on him as he explained his relationship to Odette. He wasn't her dad but he was the closest thing she had. “She's been sick for a few days, but today her fevers just skyrocketed and she's not keeping anything down.”

“Is she throwing up?” The nurse asked as she placed little Odette's arm in a blood pressure monitor. “Any diarrhoea?”

“She's been throwing up, but I haven't noticed any diarrhoea–”

“And you said she's had a fever for a while?”

“Yeah and today her stomachs been hurting pretty badly too.” The nurse could see the worry in Bradley Bradshaw's eyes. She knew enough in those few moments to know that he cared enough about this tiny human to bring her in for treatment.

“Dot honey?” The nurse cooed as she looked at Odette and placed a tiny admission wristband on her wrist. “Can you point to what side your tummy’s been hurting on?” Odette, albeit slowly, pointed to her right side, just above her pelvis. The nurse sitting across from her immediately typed something onto the report she was writing up and turned back to face Bradley. “Okay Mr. Bradshaw, you can take Dot through to fast track, I'll have her admitted for an ultrasound but if I had to take a good guess here I'd say your little girl's appendix is acting up.”

“That means surgery?” Bradley held the little girl who was everything to him a little tighter. The nurse nodded in confirmation.

“You did the right thing bringing her in, we just need you to fill out these consent forms and we’ll take care of her.” The triage nurse could see on Odette file that Bradley was indeed an authorised person to give medical consent on Odette's behalf if you weren't able to. “But yes, she’ll need surgery if it is in fact her appendix, we don't want it to burst and by the looks of things if she's been sick for a few days it could very well be about to.”

“Okay–” Bradley pressed his lips together in a fine line, he felt sick to his stomach, his little girl was in so much pain. “Okay, uh–let's go Dotty, I've got you baby.” But in all the fuss and worry and focus he’d forgotten one very vital thing. He’d forgotten to message you about what was going on, all his focus had been on Dot that he forgot to message you. Her Mother.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

You hadn’t heard from Bradley all day. Usually he’d send you little updates, let you know when Odette had gone for a nap, if she’d eaten, if she was at daycare when he picked her up and dropped her off. But today he’d been radio silent since around ten this morning.

“Roo honey?” You were already on edge with the radio silence, but when you pulled into the driveway to see Bradley’s Bronco wasn’t there your heart immediately sunk into your stomach. “I'm home, you here?” Nothing. There was nothing but a still silence that flooded your home as you went in search for the man who had helped you out yourself back together again.

“Rooster?” You nearly sobbed out as you walked down the hallway to the bathroom, at the sight of water in the tub you immediately broke out into a heartbroken cry. No. No, not your baby, not your little girl. “Bradley!!?” It felt like you were right there, watching your ex try to drown you baby girl in the bath when your phone rang.

It was like the ringtone snapped you back into reality and all of a sudden the scene playing out before you was gone. It was just you again, staring at yourself in the mirror across the bathroom. When you looked down at your phone to see that it was just Jake and not Bradley, you cried a little harder and answered.

“Told you everything would be o—hey woah? What’s the matter Fe why are you crying?” Jake had just picked Amilia up from Paybacks play to drive her to work when your sobbed rang through the truck. “Y/n?”

“Roosters not here and I can’t find Dot.” Was all you had to say before Jake was pulling over on the side of the road before swinging around. Amilia slammed against the doorframe of the passenger’s side as he did so.

“Righto, ease up turbo.” She hissed as a frown overtook her face. “And you have the nerve to call me a maniac on the road.”

“Talk to me when you know your left and rights Oz.” Jake chuckled knowing that Amilia from time to time still had to really think about what side of the road to drive on. “Fe, try to breathe alright, I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for why they aren’t home.”

“He hasn’t been answering his phone all day Jake! He doesn’t do that!” You sobbed painfully as you slid down the wall of your hallway to hug your knees to your chest. “He doesn’t—he doesn’t do that, he doesn’t—“ Jake knew you were having a full on panic attack, he knew because he got them too. Amilia heard it in your voice, the way you tried to breathe through your words. “He left—he took her, I can’t breathe—“

“I’ll call Rooster.” Amilia quickly pulled her phone out to call Bradley, his name in her phone was the Chicken Man. “There’s gotta be a good reason he’d just vanish with Dot right?”

“She’s sick.” Jake mumbled just loud enough for Amilia to hear. “Something could have happened but until we get ahold of him I don’t know what to do.”

“Voicemail—“ Amilia didn’t wait for Jake to tell her to try again, she was on it before he even had a chance to blink. “Fucking dammit Bradshaw.”

“We’re around the corner Fe, we’re on our way, just stay on the phone with me yeah?” Jake cooed as tears welled in his eyes, he hated this, hated hearing you so panicked.

“Fuck! Voicemail again.” Amilia groaned as she tried for a third time to get ahold of the missing lieutenant. “Surely he’s not intentionally ignoring us right?”

“No—“ Jake sighed frustratedly as he ran a hand across his face. “No somethings wrong, he’s distracted by something, he wouldn’t just go radio silent, not on Fe, me maybe, but not Fe.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Tooster.” She looked so tiny in the middle of the gurney. “My tummy huwts.” But Bradley knew as he walked with the surgical tray who was about to take your little girl in for emergent surgery that she was going to feel a hell of a lot better after.

“I know baby I know.” Rooster cooed as leaned over to press a gentle kiss to your daughter's forehead. “But the doctors here are gonna make you feel all better.” When Odette spoke soon after, Bradley’s heart sunk into his arse.

“I want mamma—“ Holy shit, he’d been so caught up making sure Odette got the care and help she needed, that he hadn’t even checked in with you.

“Mammas gonna be here when you come out of surgery baby, I promise.” Bradley could feel the colour draining from his face as he watched your little girl nod. “And so is uncle Jake—“ Bradley knew he was about to be in the dog house. He should have rung. He should have kept you in the loop. He couldn’t imagine what was going through your mind right about now.

As soon as the double doors closed, Bradley immediately pulled his phone out of his back pocket and couldn’t believe what he saw. An unknown amount of missed calls and texts from one Amilia Fisher explaining in great detail the way she was going to skin him alive for whatever it is that was keeping him from getting back to her.

There were a handful of missed calls and text from you throughout the day, just checking in to see how Dot was going.

And then there was one very important text, a singular message from none other than Jake Seresin that scared the shit out of Bradley. The overall calmness of it all, the time he read it in, the lack of urgency made it all the more worrying—because when Jake got calm? Bradley knew he was about five seconds away from blowing up.

H_ngm_n: “You better have running shoes on man.”

“Fuck—“ Braldey pressed on Jake’s called ID to ring him as quick as he could. This wasn’t good, not at all. It only took three rings before Jake was answering. “I can explain!”

“Where are you?” Was all Jake asked, again as calm as ever.

“I’m at the hospital, Dots fever was skyrocketing so I brought her in, turns out she has appendicitis, she’s on her way into surgery.” It was the most rushed explanation Bradley could give as he ran his free hand through his hair and paced up and down the hall. “Is Y/n okay? Is she alright?”

“We’ll be there soon.” Was all Jake said before he hung up. Bradley felt like he couldn’t breathe, he knew he’d fucked up. He should have called you when he was heading over to the hospital and think back to it he knew he had left the bath water in the bath too.

He’d fucked up, and he knew that you’d be a wreck too.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

When you first saw Rooster sitting in the waiting room, your heart beat just a little faster. But although you loved him so deeply and so fiercely, his decision not to call you about what was going on had left you wondering if he understood just how important it was for you to know the whereabouts of your daughter right now.

“Where is she?” You asked sternly. “Where’s my daughter?” Bradley could tell by the look in your eyes that you were pissed, but the love you had for Odette took priority.

He sat in one of those plastic hospital waiting room chairs, dishevelled and worried that he’d crossed some invisible boundary. Bradley didn’t mean to keep you in the dark, it was never his intention. He was just so focused on Odette that he didn’t think of anything else.

“She’s in surgery, they said someone would come give us an update as soon as she’s out.” Bradley explained as he stood from the chair he sat in and reached out to draw you into him. But you shrugged him off. “Y/n—“

“How am I the last person to find out my daughter has appendicitis?” You asked through a hiss. “Tell me Rooster how do you forget to tell the mother of the child you rushed to the emergency room that hey—we’re going to the hospital don’t freak out?”

“I’m so unbelievably sorry.” Jake could tell that Bradley was sincere. “I was just so focused on Dot I didn’t stop to think, she was so upset, I just wanted her to be okay.”

“Well she’s not alright is she!” It was just the fear talking, the fear taking over your critical thinking capabilities. “She’s in surgery getting her appendix removed and her mother wasn’t by her side to tell her everything would be alright because you—“ You shoved at Roosters chest, he didn’t budge. “Didn’t tell me what the hell was going on.”

“Y/n, listen to me for a second alright sweetheart?” It was killing him, the idea that you were mad at him for doing whatever he could for Odette.

“No—no don’t you dare sweetheart me right now Bradley, how could you not remember to ring me? Send me a fucking text?”

“Because I was looking after her! The little girl you left me to take care of! Her fever was getting out of control Fe!” It was one of the first fights the two of you had ever had.

“She’s not your damn daughter Bradley!” You didn’t mean it, hell the words you spoke even shocked you and you could immediately tell that what you had said cut Bradley deep as his features softened In disappointment and frustration. “I’m her mother, and you should have called me when she was getting worse.”

“Yeah—“ Bradley stiffened up as he looked over at Jake, he knew just how hurt you were by this mess but he never thought you’d throw Bradley’s ability to care for your little girl back in his face. “No yeah you’re totally right, I’m just gonna go, I’ll uh—I’ll just go back to my house and clean up the mess your daughter fucking makes all day because you’re too scared to send her back to daycare then.”

It was your turn to be stunned.

“Call me when she’s out, or don’t, I don’t care.” Bradley hissed as he walked past where you stood with his hands in his pockets and his tail between his legs.

“I won’t!” You called back as you watched Bradley walk out of the front doors of the Miramar Base Hospital, wondering how the hell he was going to fix this god awful mess.

***~***~***~***~***~***~****~

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