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katiemccabeswife · 9 months

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Fan Girl

AWFC x Ballerina!Reader || Reader is a renowned ballerina and goes live to talk to fans, especially about her new-found love for football. Part 2

"Hello, everyone!" You smiled into the camera a few minutes after starting an Instagram live, "Hello, hello, hello. How is everyone doing!" You responded to some personalised greetings for a few minutes before answering recurring questions flowing through the comments.

"What am I doing? I am getting ready to head over to the Royal Opera House to perform The Nutcracker. I am very excited to be doing so, we are going into the 4th performance of this year and I am absolutely buzzing, the first 3 shows went so well and I got to do all of my favourite parts and I get to do another tonight. So yeah, I am buzzing!" You had to try to suppress your smile whilst talking about your passion as you were doing your makeup whilst doing so.

"What are my favourite roles to dance in The Nutcracker?" You were moving onto contour as you began to roll off an endless number of characters you've played in the past, "I think my all-time favourite would have to be the Sugar Plum Princess, which I'm actually doing tonight!" You clapped your hands in delight due to pure excitement running throughout your body

"And then I think it's sort of even between; Clara, The Arabian Princess and The Snow Queen. I love Clara because I love playing her, I feel like I'm more of an actor when I play Clara and I love the feeling and of course, it's like, kind of a main role," You laughed as you tried to down-play the roll, not wanting to make it seem like you were bragging about getting to perform a main role.

"I love playing The Arabian Princess and The Snow Queen for the same reasons, I love their costumes so much and the choreography as well, oh my god, I feel in my element when I get to dance their choreography. It's an indescribable feeling, performing in general is for me, indescribable, but specifically those parts because I just love them so much!"

You laughed slightly to yourself as you took a drink of water, "And then we have the rats! I loved playing a rat, their costumes are just so funny and you get to really improvise with the rats," You choked on your water slightly as you laughed, "Oh I love being side-stage to watch them, performing with them is sometimes hard, especially when I'm Clara because you have to try not to laugh but I love the rats so much. And then there's also the angels! I love the angels, I was one for maybe 3 years? I started doing the Nutcracker when I was 3 and I started getting into other roles when I must have been 6 or 7, so 3 or 4 years, yeah, and I love the angels not only because it was my introductory to performing and ballet but also because now, I love kids if you didn't know, but I have taken up the role of helping the little-ys get ready and helping them get their stuff at the end of the night and they're all angels, and it just reminds me of the good old days, so yeah!"

You took a break from your makeup to look at the comments and your eyes widened when you saw 800,000 people were watching.

user429 i love her laugh

jazy_ballet I LOVE GETTING TO PLAY A RAT

saramanning how did you start ballet?

evanbraid what foundation did you use 😍

y/nballet4ever what are your hobbies aside from ballet 🩷

You proceeded to the task of doing your makeup after seeing that question, "I have recently gotten into football! I watched the Women's World Cup and it was the first time I was genuinely invested in a sport and I've kinda just kept on the football train now. That's kind of a lie I'm more on the football jet plane, if that makes sense. I am so invested in it's almost getting out of hand. I think about it all the time!" You had to laugh at yourself and how pathetic you sounded.

smith124 OMG! Who do you go for?

"I go for Arsenal, it wasn't really a conscious decision, to be honest. I just sort of figured out who everyone on the team was really fast and there was a game on, maybe 2 days after I had started 'investigating' and researching the team so I was like, why not? Um, but yeah I went to the game and I loved it! I felt kind of odd because I didn't have a jersey but I do now! I have, 12, if I remember correctly. That's Arsenal and England jerseys so..." You cringed at how fangirly you sounded.

p0llyr1chardz who's your favourite player???

"Favourite player? They're all so personable and great players like it's kind of mind-boggling how good they are but," You paused to think as you applied the finishing touches to your makeup. "Um, my favourite player might have to be Katie McCabe or Lucy Bronze, if we are talking Lionesses. If I am being so honest, I only really care about the women’s game. I just can’t get into the men's games but maybe it’s just my pure love for women that has me interested in football, not the actual game. I also love the "ACL squad" because, if you didn't know 2 years ago, I tore my ACL and while it's most certainly not a fun thing, I find the similarities in the rehab and the experiences they've all gone through compared to mine really interesting. Because whilst on a sheet of paper, football and ballet are nothing alike, the rehab after an ACL injury is really similar and I mean it could be put down to both being quite foot or leg-focused but I find it really interesting. Especially with what Viv and Beth are doing with their documentary, spreading word about it, getting people to understand the severity of it and helping everyone understand why it's happening or trying to. I guess the biggest difference is that ACL injuries are extremely prominent in women's football and my injury was sort of like any other injury, a mistake or whatever you want to call it."

bethmead_ ❤️❤️❤️

Everyone could see you intently staring at your phone in silence for a moment, reading the comments, before you screamed and jumped from your chair, you laughed and settled back into your chair, "Sorry, guys! Oh my days, Beth! Hi, oh my, oh I love you so much. Not in a weird way! In a fan way! Sorry, oh my days, y/n you're embarrassing yourself." You placed your hands on your head and took a deep breath. "Sorry guys, so onto my hair! I hate doing my hair," You sulked slightly.

leahwilliamsonn ❤️❤️❤️

"That's crazy," You sat in awe, "What is going on! Hi, Leah," You waved like a little girl, "This is crazy..." You did your hair humming with a smile on your face.

"Sorry for being silent for a hot sec, I can't focus on anything other than my hair when I'm doing it for a show." You smiled meekly at the camera.

bethmead_ will we be seeing you at the Watford game?

You squealed with pure excitement, "Yes! 1000%, I am going to be the Watford game. Of course, I am.”

You apologised that you had to step out of frame for a moment to put on your costume.

“Alright, surprise reveal for the costume of the night! Drum roll please…” You stepped into the frame in your Sugar Plum Princess leotard, looking a little bit silly without your tutu, “Sorry for not being in my tutu but I can’t sit in it and I have to drive to the Oprah House so…”

lottewubbenmoy see you there 😉

You almost fainted once you saw Lotte’s comment, due to fear or excitement maybe, but most likely from the scream you let out that had you explaining the last hour to your neighbour.

yourusername posted on their story

#woso x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #beth mead #woso imagine #katie mccabe #lotte wubben moy #leah williamson #vivianne miedema #lucy bronze #womens football #woso community #woso fanfics #woso soccer

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sepublic · 1 year

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Post-Hoot with Dana Terrace!

Dana’s put over 200 hours into games she’s missed since the finale; Octopath Traveler, Little Nightmares, etc. Sarah Nicole-Robles cried harder than she ever did when she said I learned a language I’ll never forget, a whole chapter of my life is over, during the King-ceanera. She said the line once and was suddenly sobbing because of how meta it was.

Rebecca has a ‘sona during the bit with Barcus in the epilogue sequence. Cissy also cried when watching with her family, her kids asked her about it; Sarah was really excited as she watched the finale.

No sequel happening, but we can always hope; Dana would like to do more, but Disney owns the IP and needs to give them permission. Dana knew the prequel line in the finale was ham-fisted as hell but still went with it because she was pissed (she said Fuck to express her rage). Rebecca went back to the Anger phase of grief after watching the finale after realizing what they missed, but Sarah was also in Acceptance because it was hard to regret something that ended so well.

Dana doesn’t cry that much, but TJ’s remix in the soundtrack made her cry. Dana brought back everyone for BBBYYYEEEEEEE, noting this was every character’s last line, and wished Hooty had more lines. Alex improvised a cut line after the Bye with Hooty expressing appreciation for the finale and readiness for his spin-off.

Dana won’t say much in hopes she’ll get to do more for TOH in the future; A Youtube reviewer (shoutout to all, Zachary Ax, Man of a Thousand Thoughts, Rebecca herself), the Third Bill got it right on Hooty, and Dana won’t be more specific about that.

They found out about the shortening during S2; They had an ending in mind that Dana had in mind since development, but it needed too much setup and so they couldn’t pull it off. All of Season 2A was written before knowing the cancellation; Follies at the Coven Day Parade was the first episode fully written knowing the show was shortened, hence the tonal change. The Galdorstones was an arc Dana planned more on, as well as the Coven Heads; Bat Queen; It was a hard situation choosing what to leave out.

There weren’t whole episodes written that had to be trashed; Just one-sentence ideas on a whiteboard never fully outlined or scripted. But Dana is still happy with what came out, because it was pretty damn cool.

Rebecca Rose once saw someone with a King sweatshirt like hers at Disneyland and said hi, but they just side-eyed her and didn’t respond; Despite this, Rebecca hopes they had a happy day and believes they were just having a bad time. Sarah joked about not being so forgiving.

String Bean’s inspiration: Owlbert is in the title of the show, String Bean indeed was there the whole time! The S wasn’t completely intentional at first, but Dana flipped the logo around and figured it out. When making the first episode, the logo wasn’t finalized. They always liked the idea of Luz being connected to snakes, it’s what she brought to school and they liked her reclaiming something she terrorized her classmates with. The Snake-Shifter idea specifically; Zach Marcus just said “Snake-Shifter” as they brainstormed ideas and Dana, being a sucker for lame puns, was sold.

That was indeed Dana being represented as a student in the epilogue! She was Beastkeeping and Oracle; Dana can see the future of the show, and really likes animals. Raine’s palisman was indeed hidden within the violin’s design; Hunter and Dell worked to fix the palismen after Raine broke it trying to stop Belos. The violin is more akin to the staff, anyhow. Dana considered responding to a question about general Caleb, Evelyn, and Flapjack lore, but Sarah insisted she stay silent in case they get to answer it as an actual story later.

Dana liked to think while writing Thanks to Them; No, Evelyn’s spirit isn’t in Flapjack. But to Philip, he saw Flapjack as the culmination of the corruption in his brother Caleb; He saw Flapjack, if it weren’t for YOU. You can see a hint of it in Masha’s story, Evelyn entices Caleb with Flapjack, who was Caleb’s introduction to magic. Evelyn was probably disguised as a human, and trusted Caleb for seeming reasonable and less violent. Perhaps like Dog owners passing each other by and suddenly becoming friends over this.

Evelyn and Caleb’s relationship was sweet, from platonic curiosity to romantic. Eda doesn’t know she’s descended from them, nor does Hunter; And Dana has more to say, but will keep it hidden. Luz will stay the majority of her stay in the isles as she goes to college. Camila bought the shack leading to the human world, which allowed Luz to visit during holidays, weekends, etc.

They never got to explore it, but it could’ve originally been the home of Philip and Caleb, long abandoned; Eda emerges after discovering the portal. In the next thirty years, she fixes up the shack as she builds the Owl House. Dana also advised fans to google Death of the Author, since she’s technically no longer working on the show, and thus gives permission for fans to write their own answers.

Eda became the Owl Lady before Owlbert, due to the curse; They planned to do an episode where Eda learned palismen carving with Dell, and how Eda reclaimed the Owl identity to carve Owlbert. Dana stills has the outline of that episode in her head…

According to Rebecca, Caleb and Philip’s graves were in the basement of the shack, based on this church in New Haven Dana passed by every day on her way to school (Gravesfield is based on some places in Connecticut). However, Dana realized the graves didn’t fit into the story. They also had an ‘original’ Belos design for him taking over animals. Marina Gardner did some amazing Belos designs, and Thanks to Them alluded to it.

The Portal’s eye comes from the Titan’s missing eye!!! Hunter is bisexual, Willow is pansexual, this is how Dana always wrote and imagined them in her mind, but it’s not explicitly stated so technically it’s more headcanon. Dana noted how some people just picked it up. Dana likes to think Amity and Lilith rekindled their student-mentor relationship. Having worked in the library, Amity was interested in Lilith’s knowledge of history. Dana suggested to Zarya(?) from the design team to add notes to Lilith’s museum blueprints. A helicopter passed over and they joked it was Disney trying to stop spoilers.

Cissy only got her lines and didn’t know any other details about the finale, to Dana’s surprise; Dana explained that people not getting a full script is due to the pandemic. Before quarantine, actors would get the full script. They have to rely on Eden Riegel and Dana for context a lot. Bosook Coburn spoiled Luz’s death to Rebecca Rose during the celebration party. They came up with a lot of designs for dying Luz, trying to figure out how they can hollow out her head how much. Dana mentions it’s up to the showrunner to show how much they want to the actors.

Thanks to Sarah, they kept in Luz saying her own SFX during her fight with Eda in O Titan, Where Art Thou; She heard someone do it as part of the mock script and wanted it. When Dana voiced Eda and Luz at the end, Dana was crying. There’s a recording of Season 2B and Season 3 of Dana doing a voice-over of the script to get approved by executives.

Dana clarified everyone would’ve had more of a chance to talk with each other, such as Hunter and Amity; Hunter would’ve talked to Vee, as well as more human realm kids, literally everyone would’ve had a little more time with each other. Dana loves Luz and Hunter’s sibling dynamic. Dana was sorry they couldn’t have Luz and Raine hang out, but they had the Hexsquad storyline. Luz finished high school in the human world, with the renewed motivation that she’ll go back to the isles. Knowing she has a safe space outside of high school made it more bearable, as was the case for Dana growing up.

Cissy brought up Gus’ hair in the epilogue, which she loved; Emmy Cicierga did the design for Gus and Raine. Harpy Lilith was by Emmy; Dana did Emira, Eberwolf, and Skara’s timeskip designs. The name of the Titan is unpronounceable for humans.

Dana can’t say much about the Archivists; The Collector never had a flash-forward design, as they age much more slowly than everyone else. Maybe the Collector got just a tiny bit taller. The idea of the Collector came from creepy dolls, as well as a nightmare; John Bailey Owen had a google folder filled with cool references of creepy dolls with a starry aesthetic, liminal minimalist nightmare-scape. They knew who the Collector was gonna be, what role they’d play, but the vibe still needed to be decided.

Dana confirmed the Collector was always a part of the show before the shortening, and they solidified their placement after the announcement. The Collector has indeed stayed connected with the others, visits occasionally. Dana has seen fan comics on this and teared up.

Hooty doesn’t have to be vacated from the Owl House if he doesn’t want to; When the door isn’t active, Hooty could be present. The new portal can probably fold up, and Hooty is busy as a curator for Hooty’s new museum.

Dana said Raine and Eda’s business is their business; Not all love stories end in marriage. It’s their thing and it doesn’t diminish any love, but they do live in the Owl House together (Raine moved in).

Mattholomule getting a palisman is something Zach Marcus can answer, since he made the character and Dana respects the lore he made. It’s hard to say for Dana if Vee and Masha are dating, since Masha didn’t show up in the finale, but Vee definitely has a crush on them. Again, Dana encourages the Death of the Author approach, if the headcanon makes you happy.

Alador and Odalia got officially divorced after the finale, and the kids happily lived away from her. They might visit her if they have the energy, but also recognize she’s a toxic influence they can cut off at any point. Dana gave a shoutout to Rachel McFarlane’s voice acting, praising her performance for Odalia.

In regards to the tower King was born in, Dana has an answer; It was related to a character we all know, who now may have amnesia.

There was a plan to explore Gus and Willow’s glowing eyes, and do it for other characters; Amity wasn’t going to have that, strong emotions are indeed connected to magic. It was mostly a worldbuilding magic rule they could’ve expanded on, that Dana wishes she did early in the story.

In the boards, Dawn Han(?) did Clouds on the Horizon, and did the scene of Amity and the twins hiding in the factory as their parents talk about the Abomatons, Alador is worried since it seems like a tad much. Alador had T-rex arms in the storyboard, and it reminded Dana of Remy from Ratatouille, so when they got to the scene of them looking into Alador’s lab, Ratador was drawn in his place as a joke. Dana laughed so hard she decided to keep it in, with Dana handwaving it as Alador’s palisman.

According to Dana, a show should be appreciated for as it is; But the other way to enjoy it, under the context it was made, is also important to her; Both ways are valid. It was easier for Sarah to voice depressed Luz since she was also depressed. The writers preferred to put their feelings into the show, VS a more happy-go-lucky approach as others did; It was kind of dark for a bit, especially during quarantine. Sarah felt her own experience validated with Luz’s depression, but she and Dana appreciated the balance of having a happy ending too.

What made the crew hopeful was knowing the characters would always have a happy ending; Luz could continue her studies in full-force, a new family. They KNEW it would end happy. Dana acknowledged how the fandom misinterpreted “I hate the term happy endings,” and Sarah knew about the quincenera when asked during previous Post-Hoots, but couldn’t answer.

Rebecca commissioned 3D-printed Funko Pops of S2A Lilith and S1 Luz, and gave them to the others as gifts; Rebecca didn’t know about Avi’s appearance until two days before the Post-Hoot, otherwise she would’ve had a Funko of Raine made. Dana’s stand for Luz had to be made with painter’s tape (she appreciated it) due to Rebecca running out of the other kind, and planned to place it beside her Peabody award. Elizabeth Grullon, Camila’s VA, had to call her mom in the middle of a session to translate her line about maduros into English.

Cissy clarified this wasn’t intended to be the final Post-Hoot! And the video was ended with a BBBBYYYEEEEE!!!!!

#the owl house #dana terrace #caleb wittebane #evelyn clawthorne #boiling isles titan #edalyn clawthorne #eda clawthrone #raine whispers #raeda #palismen #the owl house hunter #willow park #bisexual #pansexual #post Hoot

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otomiyaa · 1 month

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Aventurine x Ticklish Reader

Romantic + 09. "You and I remember this game very differently." + 18. “Wait… That tickled?” Requested by @thelaughtercafe & anon for my 1K Followers Event🌻

Games. Aventurine loved to play games. As his lover you knew that very well. Gambling games, strategic games, video games, drinking games, random games.

You knew it very well, so you shouldn't be surprised whenever he came up with something new.

"O-oh. Hi dear," you greeted when he sat on top of you. You were relaxing on your bed with a book, when he climbed on top of you. You blushed at the sudden intimacy.

"Don't mind me. You can continue reading. Unless you'd like to play a game with me of course," he said. You hummed.

"What kind of game?"

You shuddered when you felt him move his hands under your shirt, his fingers trailing against your bare lower back.

"How about hangman? We don't need pen or paper, I can use this here," Aventurine sang, tracing a circle on your bare back. You squirmed and lifted your head to look at him.

"You and I remember this game very differently. Isn't the point of hangman to draw the hanging man if I guess the letters wrong?"

"I like to improvise, you know. As for when you guess it wrong..."

You jolted and let out a stiffled giggle when he traced figures on the bare skin of your back again.

"Wait... That tickled? Already?" Aventurine asked. That little...!

"O-of course it did! You- hehehe stop making up weird games for an excuse to tickle me!" you scolded him, but Aventurine stopped tickling your back and he nodded.

"No, it's not an excuse! I'd still like to play. Guess the word, and if you don't guess it right, the hanging man... will be you. Tickled to death."

Your eyes widened and you dropped the book you were reading. "Aven-!" You looked over your shoulder and saw the smirk on his face.

He was straddling you from behind, one hand resting on your shoulder, and you kind of realized you weren't going anywhere unless you played. Playing hangman with him and guessing the word right might be your best shot at getting out of this with some dignity and energy intact.

"...Letter T," you sighed, pretty confident that Aventurine would be the kind of goofball to choose the word 'tickle' in this case.

"Wrong," Aventurine said, and although you weren't sure how he was going to replace the hanging man for you getting tickled, you knew as soon as he started to lightly tickle your sides.

"W-wait not yehehet- come on hahaah!" you giggled, squirming helplessly and trying to reach back to catch and stop his hands, to no avail. Aventurine whistled.

"No no, this is only the first step. Just keep guessing, if you can~"

Pffft, he was messing with you. If the letter T wasn't in it, then what?

"The E!" you gasped, trying to control your laughter. The tickling was still mild, and you guessed he would increase it with each wrong guess.

"You've got that right. The last letter is the E."

"O-of how mahahany lehehetters!? This gahame isn't fahahair!" you cried.

"Ah.. You're right. Only four letters. I'm sure you can do it."

You continued to giggle and tried to think. A word with four letters... No T... Last letter was an E... It would've been something for Aventurine to choose a simple and cheesy word like 'love'...

"The hehehe O?"

"Nope~" The soft tickles moved up towards your ribs, and increased a little in intensity. He was digging in slightly, and making you laugh more than after the previous wrong guess.

"AHahah- this is too muhuhuch!" you laughed.

"You can still guess it right before I tickle you to death, sweetie," he teased smugly. Geez!

If the O wasn't in it, then it couldn't be 'love'. But you wouldn't know what else, so you just continued.

"Ahahah t-the L?"

"Wrong." And you knew immediately. With stronger and fiercer tickles climbing up to right below your armpits, you were now laughing and giggling hysterically. You had a feeling that it wouldn't take long before 'death by tickling' was officially reached.

Wait, did he even think of a word? Wasn't he just messing you, just to tickle you?

"Ahahahaven! Okahahay I g-gihihive, I dohohon't knohohow!" So hard to guess while getting tickled, damn it!

"Try again, I know you can! You've got to guess the word!" Aventurine encouraged you.

"The Ahahah- A?"

"Correct! Letter two is an A. Keep going!"

That didn't help. The tickling was already pretty bad, so even if it wasn't getting any worse, you were still in a tight spot. Your lover wasn't making this easy, but as you recalled the last letter to be an E, and the second an A, you thought of the possibilities. Many of them.

Fake? Race? Date? Oh, date could be something. With him using this method to ask you to stop reading your book and go on a date with him. Bored Aventurines were dangerous Aventurines.

"Dahahate?! Is ihiiit dahahate?" you cackled.

"Oh, going for the instant word guess? And getting it wrong? My my, you're a bold one," Aventurine said. Oh no!

"Well then..."

The tickling went up and the moment he touched your armpits, you literally crumbled underneath him, attempting to curl up and struggling helplessly to lower your arms, but there really was no convenient way to defend yourself.

"AHAHaha nohoho! Okahahay I lohohohose ahahah! Plehehease- Ahaah- not thehehere!" you howled.

"We've got to make sure you're really dead love," Aventurine sang. What did that even mean! You tried to crawl away from under him, but this only exposed your armpits more, and Aventurine's fingers dug in there as if they were digging up gold.

"GAhahaa I gihihive! I'm dehehead- ahahaha!" you laughed breathlessly. But Aventurine was really merciless and tickled you for a little longer than that. When he finally stopped, you were one breathless and sweaty mess, gasping for air. Aventurine moved off you and took you in his arms to cuddle.

"You did well on your first try, dear. The word was 'game' by the way."

You groaned. "W-what?" Now you felt stupid for not guessing that.

Your boyfriend nodded proudly. "Yup yup. This game of Tickle Man was something I've been wanting to play," Aventurine said while caressing your hair.

You cringed. "Seheriously? Tickle Man?" you asked. Aventurine giggled, sounding too pleased with himself.

"Wasn't it fun?"

You buried your face in his chest and sighed. "You and your silly games!"

"We can play it again. I'll be the next one to guess your word while you tickle me."

Wait, what? "Are you serious?" Did he just give you a literal free pass to tickle him?

Aventurine nodded. "Anything to make you stop reading that book," he added. Ah right, about that part you guessed correctly after all. He was bored and was only pretending he didn't mind you had gotten captivated with this book right now.

"Geez. You could've just asked," you said, but Aventurine shrugged with that cute smile on his face.

"What do you say? Got a word for me to guess?" he asked. You smirked.

"Oh you bet."

But that wasn't entirely true. You were still thinking about a word that would be impossible for him to guess, so you could keep on tickling and tickling him. Maybe a really long, difficult word... Would that be fair? Oh yes it would.

#x reader tickles #aventurine #x reader #aventurine x reader #tickling #tickle fic #honkai star rail #hsr #otomiya!writes #ler!aventurine

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 5 months

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This Didn't Happen

Notes: Just a silly thing; prompts 7 & 15 taken from this Morning After prompt list.

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Sexual implications; behavior expected of our fave billionaire stinky bastard man

Summary: Had you gone to the conference planning to sleep with Nathan Bateman? No.

Had you? Yes.

Were you regretting it? Absolutely.

"Stop smiling at me."

"I'm not smiling."

"Yes you are."

"How do you know? You're not even looking at me."

"I don't need to look at you, I can feel it from here." You tried to smooth your rumpled clothing before drawing in a deep breath to steady yourself, gathering your thoughts.

Had you gone to the conference planning to sleep with Nathan Bateman? No.

Had you? Yes.

Were you regretting it? Absolutely.

The sex had been (insanely, mind-bogglingly) good. You were still sensitive, still buzzing from your orgasm as you tried to plan a graceful exit. It was proving difficult, given the circumstances—but there was no smooth way to dip out of a one night stand. Almost all of the conference attendees were staying at the same hotel as you were. What if you ran into someone that you knew in the hallway? Your wrinkled clothes would give you away immediately.

You gathered your courage before you forced yourself to turn and look at him.

Nathan was smiling—lounging in the bed with a satisfied smirk as he put his glasses back on and fixed you with a knowing gaze. You wanted to slap the look off of his face, but some part of you was certain that he would enjoy it. Not only was he smiling, but he looked criminally gorgeous. His cheeks were still slightly flushed from exertion; his forehead was still dotted with sweat; you were trying to ignore the few streaks of irritated skin where your nails had dug into his shoulder.

"We're not gonna cuddle?" He teased, brows waggling. You scoffed, turning away and beginning to hunt around his hotel room for your shoes.

"Listen, Bateman—"

"You have my attention."

"Good, 'cause I'm really gonna need you to focus up right now." You faced him again, planting your hands on your hips and forcing a stern set to your brow. "This didn't happen. Got it?"

"Didn't it?"

"No."

Nathan blinked at you a couple of times, lips curling into a teasing smile as he glanced toward to marks on his shoulder.

"Huh. Then I wonder where these came from."

"The mystery may never be solved." Son of a bitch, where are you goddamn shoes—

"So if anyone asks what we got up to this evening—?"

"Make something up," You snapped.

"What's your alibi?"

"I'll figure it out when I get back to my room."

"What if you run into someone in the elevator and they ask?"

"I'll make something up."

"You oughta brainstorm now. You don't improvise well."

"Thanks for the tip."

"They're under the desk."

"What?"

"Your shoes."

You went still, slowly glancing in that direction, and wincing when you spotted them. How the hell did they get under there?

"You kicked them off," Nathan added. "Almost broke your neck. Remember?"

You ignored the goad, picking them up and hurriedly pulling them on before heading for the door. You heard the rustle of sheets as Nathan pushed them off of his lap and stood.

"Hey," He called out.

"What?"

"You sure this never happened?"

"Positive."

You reached for the doorknob, freezing as Nathan crowded up against your back. You shivered at the feeling of his body pressing against yours, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"I hope it doesn't happen again sometime," He murmured. You began to turn to look back at him, only to spot yourself in a small mirror by the door. Your eyes narrowed as you spotted a mark blooming on your neck, and you couldn't stop yourself from whirling around to look at him.

"Did you really have to leave a giant hickey on my neck?!"

Nathan smirked, gaze sweeping over your face before he tipped his head to the side, getting a better look at the hickey.

"What makes you think I did that?"

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989 ; @writefightandflightclub ; @thedukeofcaladan ; @beepboopyoda ; @foxilayde ; @rachelwritesstuff

#Nathan Bateman x Reader #Nathan Bateman x You #Nathan Bateman/Reader #Nathan Bateman/You #Nathan Bateman fic #Nathan Bateman imagine #prompts

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writingoddess1125 · 10 months

Note

I'm not sure if you take CoD requests but I was wondering if maybe you could do headcanons for Alejandro(if you write for him) with a reader who's Cajun, has a Cajun accent, and calls him Sha(its Cajun slang for sweetheart/dear/darling)

If you don't write for Alejandro, maybe Price or Soap

Oh this is so cute!!

Support me on Ko-Fi

Alejandro with Cajun Reader

PSA - I did a lot of research so I tried 😅

• You get stationed out to the main base in Los Vaqueros, tasked to help the people there and work alongside Colonel Alejandro Vargas.

• Arriving on a helicopter you smile as you meet Alejandro smiling at you. "Welcome to Las Almas my friend- Heard great things about you"

• "Boujour! Comment ça s’plume? Alejandro no?" You say cheerfully clearly throwing off the man at the French being thrown his way- But a French he was incredibly unfamiliar with

• "Sargent (Y/L/N)? Correct?" You nod calmly, The Colonel smiking a bit- "We must leave soon then"

• "Don't be like that Cher" You say with a laugh and watch the man's face twist in mild confusion still.

• "Sha?" He repeated, you realizing quickly your mistake with a hearty laugh. "It's a term of endearment- Like Darlin'- Now, You said we had to leave No? Allons!"

• Alejandro nods and leads you off to your station, Still a bit confused over what the fuck you were saying-

• After a few weeks on base he starts to understand, realizing you are speaking a form of French mixed with English. The two of you talking quite often now as he shows you around Las Almas and the situation there.

• "They told me you are American-" Alejandro questioned as you two drove through the town.

• "I am-" You clarified with a smile. "From Louisiana" Alejandro nodded his head like he suddently got it.

• "Isn't uh it Creole? Es.. That's the American word right?" Alejandro questions, making you shake your head. "Two differen' peoples Sha-" You say as you try to explain the difference.

• This poor man is so confused- Feels like he's in school again and was just given a very hard exam that he didn't study for.

• "Creole is more City and Cajun is country" You simplified, which seemed to ease the confusion for the time being.

• The two of you become fast friends- You of course a chatter box and always wanting to learn and Alejandro always wanting to teach and see new things.

• Alejandro begins to teach you more Spanish while you teach him French-

• He likes to tease about how you talk with your hands and your passion behind your speaking. Finds it funny

• You two do have arguments at times, like an old couple do at stupid things. However rank is never pulled or acknowledged since it's always fun/personal banter

• However what truly soothed over any issues was the food- The two of you becoming quick food buddies as you'd share your guys food with each other.

• Alejandro walked straight to you on base early morning after a briefing, staring hard at you as he held a wrapped item in hand-

"...This is a La Guacamaya torta- It is one of my favorites... I added extra chicharrón" He flexes as he shows off the item. You nodding in agreement that it looked pretty damn good.

• "Not bad Not bad-" You smile, Before reaching for your own item with a grin. Pulling out a well worn Tupperware bowl-

• "Now, Had to improvise is bit- since Not many of my ingredients in this neck of the woods so I did so?' Pastalaya and found ya a le Boudin to have later"

• You say proudly showing off your lunch. Alejandro nodding also impressed- Before the two of you switch lunches and sit together to eat happily.

• It didn't take a genius for others to figure out you were buddy buddy with the Colonel- While some didn't like it, most warmed up to you and stared in your joy and willingness to expand-

• While you let anyone else know clearly they could go fuck themselves-

• However Alejandro was always your ride or die.

• The two of you shit talk for hours while eating... Half the time Not even understanding each other as you share new insults and curse words.

• He was your best friend, and you his-

#x reader #creole #cajan #cod alejandro #call of duty thoughts #call of duty mw3 #call of duty #call of duty alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #cod x gn!reader #cod x female reader #cod x male reader #cod x reader

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darcydarlingdabbles · 2 months

Text

Epilogue

Human Hotel Trip ~ Part 7/7 ~ 6.2 k

Hazbin Hotel ₊⁺⋆ Charlastor ₊⁺⋆ EventuallyVERY Explicit

Part 1 ⚜️Part 2 ⚜️ Part 3 ⚜️ Part 4 ⚜️ Part 5 ⚜️ Part 6 ⚜️ Finale

// A few months after the trip to Earth that changed everything, Charlie and Alastor are still working out the kinks of their newly defined relationship. Well, Charlie is. Alastor has his fully figured out. //

⊹❀⊹❀⊹✨⊹❀⊹❀⊹

Charlie Morninstar’s brow furrowed in concentration as she hunched over her desk in the dim back office.

Her crayon scratched against paper, leaving a hot pink streak over her next lesson plan, her tongue darting out between her black lips. The clock on the wall ticked steadily, the sound echoing in the after-dinner quiet of the Hazbin Hotel.

“Come on, brain!” Charlie muttered, digging her fingers through her hair, before rolling up her sleeves and flexing her cramping fingers. “These sinners are counting on us to keep them on the path to redemption!”

Her gaze drifted to the bright mug with its cheerful ‘Oh Deer’ barely readable in the low light—she’d forgot to turn the overheads as it got darker and dark out. Charlie reached for the coffee absently, then winced when the stone-cold liquid hit her lips.

“Whoops,” she chuckled, how long she’d been fixated on her lesson plan.

But, as the coffee hit her tongue, Charlie made a soft sound of contentment. It was just right—not too sweet this time, and just the way she liked it.

Alastor had finally figured out the balance between his bitter preference and hers.

She could picture him now, almost, up in the radio tower that was his private domain. His voice was smooth as silk as he broadcasted to all the denizens of Hell every night. Part of her longed to tune in, to hear his charismatic tones in his element.

But screams punctuated his shows and made her shudder.

Charlie sighed, turning back to her papers and plans, thinking it was better that she could pretend he was just playing music up there.

The blonde picked up her crayon again with renewed determination. She sketched out team-building exercises and self-reflection activities. Tomorrow was another chance to help lost souls find their way—and she wasn’t going to let them down.

Charlie leaned back after a few hours or so, stretching her arms above her head with a soft groan, when the silence of the room was suddenly broken with the familiar crackle of static.

“Hey, Al.” She hummed without turning around. A smiled tugged at her lips as she felt his presence looming over her shoulder.

“My dear, were you expecting me?” Alastor asked playfully, his radio host’s voice bright and gleeful.

Charlie opened her mouth to say yes, that he always managed to find her before either of them retired for the night—when she caught sight of the clock on the wall. “Uh, no, actually. Isn’t your broadcast still going?”

“Indeed, it is,” Alastor replied smoothly, just as she felt deft fingers smoothing out the mess she’d made of her hair over the last few hours. “A delightfully improvised jazz number is currently serenading our listeners.”

Eerie green flames sprung up around the ‘Oh Deer’ mug, making her heart skip a beat. But before she could voice her concern, the fire vanished as quickly as they appeared.

And steam rose in little spirals from the now piping hot coffee.

“Thank you, Al,” Charlie breathed, touched by the little gesture.

She reached for the mug as soon as he released her tamed hair. The warmth of the rich coffee spread through her, chasing away some of the weariness that had settled into her bones.

“My pleasure, darling.” Alastor purred, his fingers curling around her shoulders as she felt a gentle nuzzle against the side of her head—something he would never admit to, but he did all the time. “Though I must tsk tsk at you working so late. What would your father say about such poor time management?”

Charlie rolled her eyes at the teasing lilt in his voice. “Because I have to get these lessons right—souls are at stake here.”

Alastor chuckled at her ear, sending shivers down the back of her neck.

In a blink, he was perched primly on her desk, sweeping her papers out of his way with a flash of his shadow tentacles.

“Now, really my dear,” He said, folding his hands neatly over his knee as he leaned close. “There’s no need to over exert yourself for some lowly sinners.”

“Alastor,” Charlie scowled, but before she could launch into her usual defense of redemption and how every soul was worth saving—when he held up a hand, his perpetual grin widening.

“Because,” he said in a sing-song voice. “Your fumbling first efforts have succeeded once before, have they not?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence…I think.” Charlie said as she leaned back slightly from him.

For some reason, her heart warmed just a bit at even this backhanded compliment. The Radio Demon was rarely straightforward, but she was learning to read between the lines.

And, in his own twisted way, this was probably Alastor being supportive.

Charlie nearly jumped as she felt something brush against her legs. She looked down to see Alastor’s shadow pulling up a stool behind her. Before she could react, she felt his microphone staff was pulling her legs out from under her, making her sit back.

“Come now, take a break.” the demon insisted, his voice a mixture of concern and command. “Even the Princess of Hell needs a rest.”

Charlie huffed, gripping the stool to sit up a little straighter. Alastor’s smile took on a smug glint as she relented.

“Alright, Al, why are you trying so hard to get my attention?” she asked with a hint of suspicion. “ I mean, if I didn’t know better I think you were…well..” She trailed off, her cheeks blushing a brighter pink.

The thing with Alastor, was there was always a thing with Alastor.

He never outright said what he wanted, and even when he showed up at her room in the middle of the night—sometimes it was just to sleep next to her.

Other times, he wanted more. And Charlie wanted a lot more.

In a blink, Alastor vanished from the desk in front of her. She looked around the room for his tell-tale darkness, almost feeling like she should apologize. The only constant in the demon’s behavior was that calling him out on his escapades made them stop cold.

“Al, wait—”

Long fingers curled around Charlie’s waist, pulling her back against his chest in a delightfully familiar way.

Instead of asking, she leaned back into him, relieved when she felt the brush of his cheek against her temple.

“To speak plainly,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “It is becoming increasingly difficult to capture your attention these days.”

Charlie shivered delicately, wrapping her arms around his and grabbing the sleeves of the Radio Demon’s coat. “If you’re frustrated, we can—”

“Your little hotel has become quite the attraction for all of Hell’s wretches these days, hasn’t it?”

Wait, was he jealous of the time she spent with the residents? Was that what this was about?

“Our hotel,” Charlie corrected firmly. “This is our hotel, Al, and we should both be proud—”

Before she could continue her rant, Alastor vanished again. Charlie turned towards the empty room, only for the dapper demon to re-materialize directly in front of her.

The blonde was forced to lean back on her elbows, gripping her desk as he invaded her personal space.

Charlie had to admit that she lost whatever the hell he was saying when he was this close, leaning over her with his hands neatly behind his back. Something about ranting about the constant stream of sinners seeking redemption—while her mind was preoccupied with how her legs had to part to accommodate Alastor’s sudden proximity.

“…and the cacophony of those pathetic little dance parties that Angel Dust likes to throw is deafening. I must say, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to focus on my own endeavors with all the—”

Charlie felt a lightbulb click on over her head.

Alastor’s incessant chatter, his need to be close, his complaints. He was trying to tell her…that he needed her. And he was terrible at it.

Charlie reached up to slide her hands under the lapels of his scarlet coat, causing the man to stumble mid-sentence. Before he could react, she wrapped her fingers in Alastor’s suspenders and pulled down to his level to press her lips against his.

The kiss stunned Alastor into silence, just long enough for Charlie to worry that she had indeed misread this situation, when the switch flipped and Alastor melted into the kiss.

His arms wrapped around her, pulling himself closer as he returned affection with a fervor that took Charlie’s breath away. Alastor’s ears, which had flattened in shock, slowly lifted into a relaxed position. Her fingers carded through the hair below them with a smile.

“Al,” she murmured, her voice soft and sweet for him. “If you need something…you can just ask me.”

Alastor’s left ear flicked before his vulnerability was covered with his usual smirk and a flourish.

“Dear girl, I assure you that I don’t need anything from anyone,” he protested, his voice carrying its usual lilting cadence. “I am entirely self-sufficient, as always.”

Charlie raised a playful eyebrow up at him, glancing at his arms caging her against her desk still.

Alastor’s grin widened, leaning in closer to get to her ear.

“However,” he purred. “I came to extend a special invitation. To my Radio Tower, after the broadcast.”

“But you don’t allow anyone up there?”

“Yes, yes,” Alastor interrupted with a dismissive wave. “But you are not just anyone, and I wish to give you a…private preview of a new record I am working on.”

Charlie’s expression mixed with curiosity and concern. “It’s not…more screams of tortured sinners, is it?” she asked hesitantly.

“Far from it, darling.” Alastor laughed, the sound coming out of him like a hum more than a crackle of his usual static. “I promise that you will find it quiet...interesting.”

Charlie bit her bottom lip. As tempting as the offer was, she couldn’t help but feel just a little bit wary of what he had in store. They had very different definitions of what was interesting...or horrifying.

Still, the eager glint in Alastor’s crimson eyes was hard to resist.

“Alright,” she agreed. “I’ll come up after your broadcast.”

“Splendid!” Alastor clapped his hands together, his face lighting up and his grin stretching impossibly wider.

Before Charlie could say a word further, the demon leaned back in to steal another kiss. Then, with a wink, he melted back into the shadows.

“Until later, darling.” he said as his voice fading into echoes as he disappeared, leaving Charlie with only the lingering warmth of his kiss.

And, to wonder what exactly she had gotten herself into.

The princess sighed and shook her head, returning to her papers across the desk.

⊹❀⊹❀⊹✨⊹❀⊹❀⊹

Charlie made her way to the far side of the highest floor of the hotel, but still hesitated at the door to Alastor’s radio tower. His broadcast had just ended, and his smooth voice still danced around in her mind.

Though he had invited her up to his tower—she hesitated at the door.

It felt forbidden. Even if they had been close as two people could physically be, there were still things she didn’t know about Alastor. And she certainly didn’t know what he was up to.

But, after Charlie had hyped herself up, she reached up to to knock on the door to his tower. Only to find it was unlocked. The door creaked open slowly, like a haunted house beckoning her on to the staircase that spiraled up into the dark.

Just as the Princess reached the bottom step, Alastor materialized before her with his ever-present grin. Comforting and unnerving all at once, but still making her jump.

“Darling,” he purred, despite the fact that he hand to grab her arm to keep her from stumbling. “Shall we?”

“Oh, yes!” Charlie said, her tone brightening as he kept her hand. “I still can’t believe you invited me up here, Al.”

“You should indeed consider yourself part of an incredibly exclusive club, as I would eviscerate anyone else who dared come up here.”

Charlie gave a little awkward laugh. But part of her knew Alastor wasn’t joking.

They ascended the winding stairs as he kept her hand, Charlie’s anticipation building with each step. Alastor’s radio tower had always been off-limits, a mystery she’d longed to unravel.

As they reached the top, Alastor dramatically swept open the door. “Welcome to my sanctuary, darling.”

The space was intimate, nothing like the grandiose room she’d imagined. Deep crimson walls were adorned with black accents, creating a cozy atmosphere she hadn’t expected from the Radio Demon.

“It’s... beautiful up here,” she breathed.

A lime green fire crackled in the fireplace, casting an eerie glow that reminded her of the bayou in his hotel room. Another place she’d only rarely seen—Alastor always visited hers.

Charlie’s gaze was drawn to the wall of windows, offering a breathtaking view of Pentagram City’s deep red night time sky, just before the stars came alive. “I’ve never seen the city like this before.”

Alastor sidled up behind her silently, but his breath was warm on her neck. “It’s quite the sight, isn’t it? A blend of beauty and chaos.”

She turned to face the demon, and was surprised by the softness in his gaze despite his grin.

Maybe it was how personal this space was. Having Alastor share a part of himself no one else had ever seen. Charlie softened to him in turn.

“Thank you for showing me this,” she said softly, reaching for his hand. “I know it means a lot to you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, my dear.” Alastor’s grin widened, a hint of genuine warmth creeping into his expression. “Now, shall we make ourselves comfortable?”

Charlie nodded, still taking in the intimate surroundings. Alastor guided her further into the room, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back.

“Can I offer you a drink, my dear?” Alastor asked, gesturing to a small bottle of deep amber liquid. “My personal favorite whiskey, aged to perfection.”

“Of course,” Charlie smiled, always eager to share more with him.

As Alastor poured two glasses, Charlie’s attention was drawn to the bookshelves lining one wall. Her eyes widened as she approached, fingers trailing along the spines, wondering what Alastor was reading.

“Curious kitten, aren’t you?” Alastor chuckled, handing her a glass.

“Sorry!” The blonde jumped guiltily, feeling her face get pinker. What did he just call her?

“It’s fine darling, I was teasing.” He smirked as he tilted his whisky back to his lips. To Charlie’s rapt attention.

She cleared her throat, looking back at the bookcase to seize on any distraction. “Is that…a real crocodile skull??”

“An alligator, but, yes, it is indeed real.” Alastor’s grin widened. “A momento from my mortal life.”

Charlie nodded absently, tilting the glass to her lips—the smokey flavor warmed her throat right down to her core. Alastor was watching her, his expression greedy.

“Come, my dear. I’d like to show you where the magic happens.” He hummed as he gently steered her towards the expansive broadcast control panel.

Alastor’s fingers curled over her shoulders, applying enough pressure to seat her at a piano bench before the desk. Her eyes widened as she took in the array of buttons, knobs, and switches all before her.

“How do you keep track of all this?” Charlie tried to keep her enthusiasm from bubbling right over. This place felt like it should be kept quiet unless he was on air.

Alastor chuckled, sliding onto the bench beside her. “Practice, decades of it.”

Charlie couldn’t help but be impressed—the only piece of equipment she recognized was a record player in the corner. Though it was far fancier than any she had seen.

Though it did remind her of something he said before.

“So, what was that about a song you wanted to show me?” She turned to him so quickly, her blonde hair swayed behind her.

“Ah yes, of course! I’m delighted you remembered.”

He reached over, his lengthy arm easily spanning the distance to the record player. With a flourish, he selected a vinyl and set it on the turntable.

As the needle touched down, a sweet melody filled the air. It was soft and lilting, almost like a lullaby—not the kind of music she’d expected from Alastor at all.

Though her brow furrowed as a familiar note was struck.

Suddenly, recognition dawned on Charlie’s face. “Wait a minute,” she gasped, turning to Alastor with wide eyes. “This is the song you played for me on the last night of our trip to the hotel!”

Alastor’s smile grew impossibly wider, a mix of pride and something else Charlie couldn’t quite place. “Indeed, it is, my clever girl. I’m impressed you remembered—as you were more than half asleep at the time.”

“How could I forget?” Charlie felt a warmth spread through her chest at his praise, and the memory of cuddling up to him on that balcony. “It was a beautiful.”

Alastor nodded, his eyes never leaving her face. “It is. However, it is far from complete. Merely a melody, lacking harmony or accompaniment.”

“Oh? What are you planning to add to it?”

A wicked smirk played across Alastor’s features, sending a shiver down Charlie’s spine. Without breaking eye contact, he elongated his hand, reaching for the control panel.

“Allow me to demonstrate,” he intoned, his fingers hovering over two sliders.

Charlie watched, transfixed, as Alastor began to slowly push the controls upward. Her heart raced with anticipation, wondering what new element he was about to introduce to the hauntingly sweet melody.

Soft sounds filtered through the speakers, growing steadily louder. Breathy pants, a low groan, a mumbled word she couldn’t quite make out.

Charlie’s confusion only grew, worried that she was going to hear some tortured screams—when a clear sound cut through the air.

Her own voice, unmistakable, whining out a name. “Al... Alastor~”

She whipped her head towards the Radio Demon. “Is... is that me on the recording?” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. A terrible thought struck her, and she felt her stomach drop. “Were you... were you recording us together?”

Alastor’s grin stretched impossibly wider, his sharp teeth glinting in the soft light. But then he spoke, his voice smooth as silk. “Oh Heavens, no, of course not, my dear.”

Charlie exhaled shakily, relief washing over her. But confusion quickly took its place. “Then what...?”

“This, my darling, is merely an imitation of the sweet sounds you make for me. I’m quite talented at replicating what I’ve heard, you see.” Alastor chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent shivers down Charlie’s spine. “Alas, any discerning ear could tell the difference.”

Charlie’s mind reeled.

“You…so you recreated my voice, I mean, my sounds…while we were…?”

“Yes.” Alastor’s scarlet eyes glinted with satisfaction.

Charlie felt her face grow even hotter. It was mortifying to hear herself like this, and yet... a small part of her couldn’t help but feel flattered. The idea that Alastor had paid such close attention, had committed her most intimate sounds to memory...

“I... I suppose it is impressive,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “In its own way, but, Alastor—”

“You needn’t worry, my dear, I assure you.” Alastor said as he leaned in, his arm sliding around her back. “I would never dream of sharing such, intimate sounds with anyone else.”

Charlie’s breath hitched as his pointed fingers deftly untucked her shirt. His touch was cool on the skin of her hip, because her entire body was flush with heat.

“You promise?” The princess asked softly, biting over her bottom lip.

“Of course,” Alastor soothed, his fingers drawing circles now over the small of her back. “And, should you ever permit me to record during one of our…encounters. I can assure you no one else who heard it would live to tell the tale.”

Charlie gaped.

The idea of being recorded was both terrifying…and secretly thrilling.

Alastor’s knowing smirk told her he was well aware of the effect he was having on her. His fingers traced lazy circles along the base of her spine, and his nose was starting to nudge along her cheek.

Charlie bit her lower lip, fighting back the impulsive answer she wanted to blurt out.

Alastor was just waiting, ever so patiently, his lips and teeth grazing her ear with not near enough pressure for her liking.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Charlie whispered, “Do you promise? Promise you’ll never share any recordings. Or the imitations?”

“My dear Charlie, you have my word.” Alastor pulled back slightly, meeting her eyes. His grin softened into something almost gentle. “And as you well know, I always keep my word.”

Charlie bit her lip for a moment longer, feeling a jumble of vulnerability and exhilaration at the idea.

Until she finally nodded.

✧✦✧✦⚜️✧✦✧✦

Alastor could not contain his delight when Charlie acquiesced to his request. He surged forward, capturing her lips with his own.

The darling girl leaned into him at once, as she always did, her arms thrown around his shoulders. Alastor slid his arms around her waist, his shadow tentacles helping ease her into his lap, thrilling at the familiar feeling of her thighs caging his on the bench.

Charlie shifted closer to him as their lips drag together. Wriggly little thing she was.

Alastor’s hand slid up along her back, long fingers cradling the back of her skull to keep her still—so he could let his razor-sharp teeth graze her bottom lip. Earning him a delightful gasp from the Princess.

Reminding the demon to send a tentacle up along the console and set the recording going, greedy to capture every sound.

He hardly minded when either of them were a tad too enthusiastic with their kisses. He thrilled whenever her fangs met his flesh, but she didn’t enjoy the taste of blood as much as he did.

Alastor held Charlie where he wanted her as he worked his mouth down the column of her throat.

He popped open the black buttons of her white shirt as he made his way down her collar, knowing that despite her distaste for blood—Charlie loved the marks he left on her. For as long as they lasted.

Alastor ducked his head to suck a mark into the crook of her pale neck and shoulder, eliciting a quivering moan from Charlie that sent shivers through the Radio Demon.

Her slender fingers found their way up under his coat, dragging along the line of his suspenders as he worked his lips and teeth over the bones of her collar. Alastor rolled his shoulders back, flicking his wrists to drop the red fabric in a pool behind the bench, without pulling his attention from the task of undressing Charlie. His long fingers made quick work of the rest of her buttons to revel in the white skin beneath.

Charile was undoing his bowtie and sliding it from his collar as he dragged his nails along her silky torso.

Alastor had been concerned, preoccupied, that he might hurt her with his sharp claws and sharper teeth—but practice had built his confidence in his ability to touch her softness without hurting her with his pointed edges.

He drew his fingers down the contours of her body, dragging a single claw up from her belly. With just enough pressure, he sliced the fabric between the cups of her bra.

And the garment fell away from her body.

Charlie gasped as cool air hit her skin, pebbling her nipples before his darkening eyes. Just so he could hear the indignant way she said, “Alastor!”

He hid his smirk by taking her entire breast into his mouth.

He sucked her tenderly, so she could feel the edge of his teeth grazing her flesh, leaving marks that wouldn’t last until morning.

“Alastor,” Charlie huffed, making his grin widen over her skin. “You ripped my bra.”

The demon just chuckled against her chest, clearly more intent on worshiping every inch of her than addressing her transitory concerns.

Charlie was not mollified. He felt her give an irritated tug at his hair.

Alastor pulled back with a drag of his tongue. “Yes, love?” He cocked an eyebrow, mischief quirking his lips. “I’ll mend it later.”

Her breath caught at the endearment, but he distracted her by lavishing his attention on her breast.

Alastor flicked his red thumb over her nipple, feeling the way Charlie shivered and goosebumps erupted over her skin. Her hands were back to threading through his hair and ruffling it up.

His ears flicked with anticipation.

Charlie was distracting him from her chest with the teasing of her fingers. They had always been, sensitive, but he had never realized until the princess discovered his weakness for having them petted.

Alastor would only allow her to stroke him like a contented house cat—forgetting his ministrations and the sounds he was trying to pull her. His own moan was muffled in the valley of her breasts. His forehead pressed against her rabbiting heart.

So…distracting.

With a rumbling growl, Alastor lifted Charlie up by the hips, depositing her back on his broadcast desk. As he sent the bench seat tumbling with his heel.

The rest of her clothing vanished with a flash of his shadows. He’d shred them in his impatience otherwise—and he caused a delightful little yelp from his Princess.

Alastor locked eyes with Charlie as his fingers curl around her milky thighs and push her legs apart. Smirking from ear to ear as he ducked his head to drag his tongue through her slick folds.

Sweet thing that she was, practically trilling under his mouth.

Her fingers scrabble over his head, before finally grabbing onto his branching antlers. Alastor’s answering moan reverberated against her pussy, causing her hips to cant to his tongue again.

“Al, what…” His ears turn towards her, but he refuses to give up his treat just yet—until she insisted with a tug on his ear. “The controls, I don’t wanna, lay on them and—”

Alastor growled, promptly shrouding the machinery in a dark shadow.

“Darling,” he chided, his voice smooth despite the slick coating his lips. “Quite rude to interrupt a man while he’s eating.”

“You did not just—” Charlie’s entire face was consumed with the most brilliant shade of red.

“I did.” Alastor smirked, shamelessy, before returning to his meal.

The blonde is a trembling mess beneath his tongue. Her hips jerked up against him, because she just couldn’t stay still the closer and closer she got to the edge.

His antlers were growing under her grip. Wildly now.

Alastor didn’t lift his head from sucking on her clit as he summoned his shadows. The tendrils wrapped around her hands, giving something safer to hold on to as his hands held her open. And still.

Charlie’s musical pleas filled his ears, begging so sweetly for him, because she was so close.

Without pulling away from her, Alastor conjured another tentacle to squirm its way up between them. Charlie’s hips bucked desperatly as the tip of the shadow found her entrance, fucking into her fast and shallow as he worked her clit.

Charlie arched off of Alastor’s desk with a cry as she came.

The way she said his name had him shuddering above her, fingers clawing into the wood either side of her hips.

His lips curled into a satisfied smile as he pulled away from her clit, knowing the little numb was sensitive with her release, but his shadow tentacle continued to work her, drawing out every last shiver and whine of pleasure.

Until Charlie fell limp against his desk.

Alastor hummed as he leaned over the Princess, pressing tender kisses to her temple and along her cheek. Her heart was pounding against his chest.

The demon smirked against her lips.

Charlie gave a little whine into his mouth, reaching for him like her limbs were drenched in molasses.

Alastor ducked to her hand to meet her touch. His lips and teeth skimmed her palm, her wrist, letting her trail idle fingers over him as her body calmed.

When she tugged at his blood red shirt, he hesitated for only a moment, before pulling it off.

Scars littered the Radio Demon’s torso. The most prominent of which the Princess had seen that first night they were together. The slash across from an angel’s blade, still tinged gold from his brush with the divine.

Charlie’s eyes were heavy-lidded with desire, to his continuing relief, and she bit into her black bottom lip.

“Again?” she whispered, her voice just loud enough to be heard.

“Again.” Alastor’s grin swelled with his ego.

He loved it when she asked for more. When she surrendered her self so completely to his touch…to the pleasure he gave her.

Alastor pulled his tentacles back, and flipped Charlie onto her stomach, caging her in with his arms as he pressed his chest against her back.

“Al…” Charlie started a protest, only to give a squeak of surprise as he conjured another tentacle. “…fuck.”

He purred, pushing her hair aside to expose the nape of her neck. “Yes, darling, that is indeed the idea.” He leaned down to press a soft kiss to the bite he’d left earlier, just as the second tentacle joined the first—plunged deep inside her.

Charlie grabbed for his wrist and clinging to him as the two tentacles worked along her inner walls. She mewled beneath him, her hips bucking back, and her ass rutting against the straining fabric of his pants.

Alastor was achingly hard. But he held back, because he wanted to swallow every sweet mewling cry she gave. His clenched teeth pressed against her neck as she squirmed so enticingly beneath him as she neared another peak.

He panted against Charlie’s ear as her legs trembled until her hips stuttered and faltered. Rewarding Alastor with her most exquisite sound yet—her pleasure, dripping down her thighs onto the floor in front of his desk.

“Good girl,” Alastor crooned a litany of praises into Charlie’s neck.

✧✦✧✦⚜️✧✦✧✦

The console’s red light blinked in time with Alastor’s pounding heart, recording every sound and sigh that escaped Charlie’s lips as he heled her close.

He kept his arms around her, his chest pressed to his back, her head nestled into the crook of his shoulder. It took longer each time for Charlie to recover. But he was happy to wait—getting her like this, just for him, was as satisfying to the demon as getting off himself.

Charlie panted softly, her golden hair spilled over him like a waterfall, tickling under his chin with every gentle stirring.

He tasted salt on her cheek when he kissed it. And her pulse fluttered under his lips.

As Alastor let her doze against him, he couldn’t help but trace his fingers over her hips, her waist, rounding her breasts, and carefully avoiding her delicate core as she recovered. Marveling at how she responded to even his feather light touches. And lingering kisses when she turned her head to him and demanded them.

The demon tilted his head back with a smirk. “Another?”

Charlie shuddered delicately in his arms, pulling a chuckle from the man’s chest.

“Is that a yes?”

“Al,” Charlie whined, her movements even more sluggish as she tugged at his hair. “You’re…you’re gonna wear me out before you even fuck me.” She lamented so prettily, he almost gave in then and there.

But Alastor kept his grin as he dragged his fingers over her thighs. “Sweetheart,” he drawled. “ You know that outcome will suit my fancy just as well.”

The Princess whined throatily in protest.

She wriggled in his hold, squirming until Alastor had to help her turn in his arms and settle back on his lap.

Charlie looked absolutely, deliciously wrecked. Her makeup smudged and her eyes dilated with want and her hair a mess as she threw her arms around his shoulders.

“Alastor,” she began plaintively, her voice low and desperate as her lips nudged insistently at his chin and along his jaw.

“Yes, darling?” He responded with a teasing lilt, even as his hands slid down the curve of her back.

“Please?” The Princess begged, and Alastor shuddered. He so loved it when she begged so prettily.

“Please…what, my dear?” He grinned his widest grin. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific in your request.”

Charlie let out a groan so exasperatedly that Alastor nearly broke and laughed at the sound of pure frustration.

The Princess gripped to his shoulders, and he tilted his head as she turned around and glanced at the blinking ‘Record’ button on his console.

Alastor cocked his eyebrows up as he waited.

“Al…” Her voice was just above a whisper, her hand cupping his cheek as heat erupted across hers. “Take me back to bed and fuck me, please.”

⊹❀⊹❀⊹✨⊹❀⊹❀⊹

Alastor’s smile was instant and predatory—like he was going to ravage her right there all over again. And Charlie’s heart fluttered in her ears, unsure of which she wanted more.

“As you wish.”

His arms wound tighter around her, and they were swallowed up in his deep shadows. Charlie gasped as she felt cool air on her skin, and the soft satin of her bed on her back.

The Princess pushed herself up on her weak arms, searching for him in her dark bedroom, the only light coming from the black sky outside, littered with scarlet stars.

“Al…” She hummed as her eyes adjusted, and she finally caught sight of him.

Alastor’s clothes had been left behind. And Charlie had another moment to just admire the tantalizing sight that was usually concealed under so many layers of fine clothes. The slim contours of his torso, his grayish skin littered with marks she wanted to memorize with her fingers and lips, if he’d ever allow it.

Though, right now, she’d be happy to just get her mouth on his straining cock. He never allowed that.

“Had your fill of staring, darling?”

Charlie’s gaze snapped back to the dark-red sclera and scarlet irises above his wickedly gleaming teeth.

“Never,” she decided, already reaching for him, pulling him down on top of her.

Her fingers curled into his hair at once, her body cradling his, eager to have him impossibly closer. Inside her. She needed Alastor like she needed to breathe.

And seemed to finally have sympathy for her plight.

He kissed her just as desperately, groaning against her when the length of his cock raked against her soaking folds.

“Al….” Charlie arched her back off the bed, ready to plead with him one more time, but it seemed even Alastor had enough teasing at last.

Finally, he slid inside her with a shuddering groan, and Charlie curled her legs around him to feel every inch. Alastor’s long fingers sunk into the bed on either side of her head. As her fingers tangled in his hair.

Though he’d worked her into damn near a frenzy, she couldn’t bring herself to rush Alastor now. His movements were deliberate, each thrust sending waves of pleasure cousing through her tingling nerves.

Charlie clung to him as they moved together. His eyes were so bright red they were glowing in the dark as she felt the sweat beading on his brow and the tension in every muscle as he held himself back—savoring every moment.

Just as she was reveling that she could hold the Radio Demon so close. Not the demon, but the man underneath it all, who let his smile slip as he kissed her with ragged breaths.

His hips stuttered, every movement more desperate and wild as her hands found his ears again—only to feel the familiar weight of a tentacle slithering between them.

The shadowy appendage didn’t just find her clit. It thrummed against her frazzled bundle of nerves, drawing pleasure from her one last time. Coaxing her to giving in one last time.

Her head fell back into the pillows as Alastor found his release with her name on his tongue.

After, might just be Charlie’s favorite part. A pile of limbs just panting in each other’s arms, a mess of sweat and sweetness that she craved.

When it felt like Alastor was at his most sincere.

He fell back onto the disheveled pillows, his arm draped over his eyes, his chest rising and falling slower and slower. And hardened his smile finally faded to nothing but softness.

Charlie inched her way back to him, curling into his side. “Will you…stay with me tonight?” She asked faintly, drawing her finger under his chin and over his skin. He sometimes left before dawn or right after she fell asleep.

Either way, she missed him at once.

Alastor lifted his hand, his red eyes fixed on the canopy of the bed. “Of course I will…for as long as you’ll have me.”

Charlie beamed like the sun had risen at the witching hour.

“Better get comfortable.” She said as she pillowed into Alastor’s chest. “Because I’ll always have you.”

Alastor chuckled, and she could hear the smile return to his voice as he murmured. “Yes, my dear.”

⚜️ Thanks for Reading ⚜️

#Phew we finally got there folks #now that it's over I already miss it...#charlie x alastor #charlastor #charlastor smut #charlastor fic #hazbin charlie #human alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin #alastor #radiobelle #radiobelle smut #alastor x charlie #please leave a comment or a like they make my day

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ashleymasenado · 3 months

Text

TADC: Pomni Through the Looking Glass (and What She Found There)

@endomentendo, be glad that you have inspired me, but prepare to be spited cause that's exactly why I'm writing this. If I got most stuff wrong including the tech (look I had to improvise the looking glass okay no one really cares if it's different from yours (wow for once I don't care about getting canon right)) I'm probably just a little sorry.

Also if Pomni's name is the same in the real world and digital wonderland, then I'm glad I got this right then.

But for anyone else who's also enjoying this, please enjoy! And maybe leave a little comment on what you thought; I haven't written a full-length story, much less a one-shot in a long time, and I'm excited to be back into my natural talent of writing!

(P.S. before we move on: I might write a little thing based on Endo's little opening comic for in Wonderland…)

(Also apologies if my writing style feels old, I had just reread the original Through the Looking Glass recently lol)

——————————————————————————————————

The little white kitty robot had been malfunctioning lately. At least, that's what her sister had been saying based on her own observations. And this time, the little thing had been moving on its own, all because a simple move of its shelf had flicked a switch and now it was just about to fall off said shelf. When it was close to hitting the ground, it was just barely caught by the only worker in the store that day, Pomni Gardner.

"There you go," she smiled tiredly, petting the furry kitty's head and shelfing it again. In all her five years of working at Cable and Analog Convenience, the little robot kitty she had made in high school was sometimes her rare source of company when her sister was out of town making supply trips. That, and the other two robot kittens on display only. But the little white kitten, which she had named Snowy, was one of the more active ones due to a little floor accident she figured was the cause of her random turn-ons these days.

Pomni leaned on the counter with a sigh, looking over the blank account of the past few mundane days on the computer for the store's records. No one had come into the store in a long time, so she had mostly felt that there was no need to come in at all. But ever since her sister's insistence for her to take her place just a day before she left, Pomni hadn't really had a choice in the manner.

She leaned back in her chair and stared up thoughtfully at the ceiling, desperate to get away from her boredom. It hadn't been a very long time ago since she had somehow dreamt of a strange place, created of her own imagination yet of very real sensations somehow. The little white clown with the giant pocket watch hopping from monitor to monitor and ending up in one that hadn't worked in years… she still wasn't sure it was such a wise choice to follow it and fall into the small screen, with a new form that forced her to question her new identity: was she the same person she was that morning, or a different one entirely? Hey, English class was finally coming in handy.

Even thought it was all a dream in the end, it was a very strange one. Even stranger, somehow she had woken up with a VR headset on her head, which she suspected her sister had placed on her to try and shake her awake, yet it hadn't really helped much. But she appreciated the effort, even if she hadn't asked her about it yet. The whole thing was very curious though.

Pomni groaned, more out of exasperation than anything else. She grabbed the little white cat off the nearby shelf and flicked the switch, watching it move around the table in a cute and almost realistic manner like an actual kitten. She had been quite proud of being the sole builder of this little mechanism, even if she had to use a few parts from their own store when it was only her sister running it back in the day. But in the end, she never really noticed, so it was all fine.

"You know, Snowy," she started, leaning her head on her hand as her elbow settled on the counter. She chuckled at the cliche nickname, her bored smile growing wider as the little cat came over to her hand and gave a small robotic purr. "It was the darndest thing, that dream I had a few months ago. It only feels like yesterday I had become a very different person, or atleast, that's what my body experienced. It was more of a physical change than anything. But can it really be considered physical if it was inside of a digital world? Anyway, it still gave me a weird existential crisis."

Pomni pulled the little white robot kitten onto her lap, feeling it settle there like a regular cat as she began to stroke its head. She and her sister, the only employees at C&A Convenience, weren't allowed to bring in any pets for the sake of their customers, so it was nice to have this little girl for company, even if she wasn't the real thing. "I wonder what it would be like to have you with me, Snowy. What would a little robot cat be like in that strange digital world? Would you be able to talk and be your own person, or would you still be as you are now? Gosh, when did I start asking so many questions?"

Pomni rubbed her own head, returning to petting the little kitten afterwards. She directed her attention to the newly imported wide-screen TV, which her sister had repaired with the help of their uncle. Now it looked just like new, which she really appreciated as she smiled and admired her reflection for just a moment. The screen was so big and clear, it was just like looking through a giant mirror. It was these kind of televisions that they said had images so vivid and lifelike it was like they were jumping out of the screen or they could pull you into the video itself. Pomni had never had a chance to see what that was like, and there was sadly no video player to plug into the TV, so she was just going to imagine it best she could.

"Could you imagine if an image could actually pull you into it, Snowy?" She said with a light chuckle, putting the little robot on the counter and standing up to get her fourth cup of coffee. She sat back down and started sipping her cup, looking over at Snowy who she had shut down so it wouldn't waddle off the counter and fall again. "It'd probably be a weird experience, just like when I accidentally fell through the monitor as if it were a hole in the ground. Just imagine the whole thing—the space just warping around you, like a vacuum cleaner, slowly taking you into a different place…"

Pomni was surprised at her own bravery to describe this fascinating and yet horrifying scenario, but not as surprised as she was to see the lights around her dim and the TV slowly flickering to life. She put down her cup on the counter and carefully leaned closer to the screen, which showed just a little bit of static and that same annoying buzzing sound you'd hear when the TV wouldn't work and all you'd get was said static. But as she leaned in closer to the screen for curiosity's sake, she saw the static was like a misty veil, like a lacy white curtain or the kind of mist you'd see on your window on a cold or snowy day.

"What in the…?"

Out of instinct, she reached out her hand to the screen and almost drew her hand back at its warmth. It wasn't an unwelcoming warmth, like a boiling pot or a fever, but it was a strange warmth nonetheless. And the screen seemed to ripple where she touched it… how curious.

She tried it again, keeping her hand there for longer. Using her other hand, she wiped at the misty veil of static, and drew back with a sound gasp.

For in the place of her normal reflection, of a young human 25-year-old woman, was the same character she had become in that dream of a digital Wonderland.

With a frustrated frown, she tried to pull her hand away from the screen, which she found was soundly stuck and was even beginning to sink into it. Gosh darn it, why didn't she learn anything from the last time?! Was this about to become a new adventure that she didn't want to be dragged into? Why did she ever come close to this TV in the first place…

Her reflection seemed to mirror her distress, even though she was yet to take that form—which she would soon take if she didn't pull back. But the warm feeling of her hand going through and next her arm was almost like rapidly falling into quicksand—no way out unless someone pulled you free.

And with a silent curse falling from her lips, Pomni was sucked through the television screen, which was as clear as the looking glass, before it was as silent and blank as it was before.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc au #tadc pomni #one shot #oneshot #tadc wonderland #alice in wonderland #alice through the looking glass #through the looking glass #just for fun #okay maybe i'm doing this to spite the creator a little #but to be fair #in my defense #he won't stop making his au super cool for like 5 mins #hope you guys like it #hope you guys enjoy

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rafferty3207 · 1 year

Note

not to be impatient or ungrateful but too good to be true part 3 when 😩

its funny you say that today of all days bestie

Too Good to Be True (part three)

warning: fem!reader, passing mention of creepy dude, angst (but only at the beginning dw), then tooth rotting fluff

A/N: I hope you like this ending! in my mind this is done but not over - I will definitely be doing drabbles of this pair in future, but for now I hope you enjoy!

____

part one | part two

“Oi, prick, are you even paying attention?” Roy barks at Jamie, who is sitting staring at his phone.

“Er, yeah, coach, it’s just -just-”

“Just what? Spit it out?”

“How do ya access your voicemails?”

“Jamie. What the fuck are you talking about?”

He holds up the screen to Roy’s face.

You have a new voicemail.

“Jamie, I wouldn’t worry about it, it's probably some berk trying to sell you organic viagra or something. Now please can we get back to the football?”

“I just need to check Coach. To make sure of…something, but I’ve never listened to a voicemail before.”

“Christ you find new ways to make me feel old Jamie.” But before he can make another comment, Roy notices the sad look in Jamie’s eyes. He hasn’t been his usual irritating self this morning, no sassy quips or anything, and he looks like he’s barely slept. “Who are you expecting a voicemail from?”

Jamie looks up at him with those puppy dog eyes. “Oh for fuck’s sake, it’s that girl isn’t it? What did you do now, you silly twat?”

“I didn’t do anything. I mean I kissed her -”

“Oh my god, that Simone Biles bollocks was about her wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, but it's an inside joke-”

“Hand me the phone.”

“Er, I dunno-”

“Just give it, Jamie.” Jamie reluctantly passes it over. “You dial a three digit number, which will access your number. You’re on the same network as me so-” Roy types the digits and hands it back. “But once you’re done, you’re doing 50 press ups for wasting my fucking time.” Roy goes into another room.

Jamie raises the phone to his ear tentatively. Of course, it’s you.

___

The gallery session had been, in polite terms, a complete shit show. You were late because you couldn’t figure out how to get into the building, then you couldn't find some of the papers with your plan on them, and therefore you spent several hours using what little you have of your phone battery to try and improvise a plan from your memories. You’re finally done, but by this point it’s almost midnight.

“This is your first exhibition, isn’t it?” Simon, the gallery owner looks at you hunched over, shoving the papers back in the bag.

“Yeah, how did you guess? Don’t answer that, that was sarcasm.” You say, continuing to scramble. “So what’s happening PR wise? Are we sending press releases, inviting reviewers, that sort of thing?”

Simon scoffs.

“What? I get it I'm a nobody, but what about the big Emin retrospective you’ve got coming up in October? I’ve seen posters for that everywhere.”

“That’s pretty much all her team. Besides, when you’re Emin you don’t need the PR really. Of course, we’ll do our best and we’ve got it on our website and social media of course, but our comms person resigned so at the moment we’re a rather limited team. This is such a short period, it’s an interim show. It’s why we could offer it, but you knew that right?”

“Mhmm, yeah, of course.” You say, biting your lip. You don’t know what you expected, instead wearily picking up your bag.

“Right, I best head off, but I’ll see you in two days!” You power walk off while your voice can still sound fake cheerful. Now how do I go back from here? You wonder, pulling your phone out.

Of course, it dies at that very moment.

“Shit!”

___

You eventually manage to navigate home, although the walk takes three times as long especially after one man seems to walk right behind you for ages until you get to the high street and the tube stops running mid way through, so you have to persuade a nice older woman to look up the bus route on her phone. As you walk into your house and flop onto the couch, you remember.

Jamie.

Fuck. You hoped he didn’t take your note the wrong way. You plug your phone in and sit huddled until the screen turns back on.

11 missed calls. 13 messages.

hey Simone xoxo

out at drinks at the moment but I’ll be back asap xoxo

theres a cocktail i think you’d like here xoxo

on my way home now! xoxo

where are you xoxo

u alright

u ok???

Where are you??

Just let me know ur home safe (or dont if u dont want to)

Im not asking to be creepy sorry if it came off like that

Im sorry if i scared you off

i shouldn’t have kissed you

Lets just forget it happened

Sorry again

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Let’s just forget it happened. You felt sick to your stomach. You picked up the phone with incredibly shaky hands and pressed the dial button.

_____

“Er, hey Jamie, it’s me. Sorry to leave you a voicemail, it feels old school doesn’t it? I don’t even know how to listen to my own voicemails, not sure why I’m sending you one. Well I do, I’ve rung a few times and you’re not picking up and everytime I try and say what I want in a text it comes off wrong - ugh, sorry I’m rambling. Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t reply, my phone has been dead the whole way home and I had to try and find my way back and the tube is shit and buses are shit and all I wanted was for you to come and pick me up in that ugly orange car of yours but I couldn’t. So that’s that. Did you get my note? I completely forgot but I had the exhibition planning session today and everything that could possibly go wrong did and it’s been a fucking nightmare and to be honest Jamie, I don’t know why I’m doing it anymore. I thought this was my one chance to finally become a big shot artist but it turns out I have to market it basically all by myself and I have no time and know barely anyone so let’s be honest, no one is going to come and it will all be forgotten about and I will prove once again I am the failure my father thinks I am.”

Jamie hears a shuddering intake of breath.

“Sorry, I’m rambling again. I’m sorry Jamie. I really did mean to wait for you. I’ve still got your shirt and everything. It’s just, I’m so stressed and I need to finish these paintings but also why should I finish these paintings but also I want them to be perfect and - and - and I don’t want to do this over voicemail but I don’t want to forget about us but also I have so much work to do and I’m so fucked -”

Jamie listens to you choke down a sob, before sniffing.

“I have to go, but call me back or something. Or maybe I could see you at the exhibit? You’ll probably be the only one attending. Goodbye, Jamie. Sorry again.”

Jamie’s heart was breaking, but not in the way he expected. You were so strong for him but all the while there you were, clearly dealing with your own shit and struggling and he hadn’t even noticed. He hated the idea that he had made things worse.

Now, he knew what he had to do.

___

It is the opening night of the exhibit and you are adjusting your hair for the fiftieth time. The gallery had extended their publicity to a small private view with a few glasses of wine and bottles of beer, but that was it. So you had spent the last three days painting almost non-stop, sending the invitations to everyone you know and barely sleeping. You just hoped your makeup would cover the dark circles under your eyes. You had worn your favourite dress and done your hair especially so you would at least feel like the real deal, but that was quickly waning.

It had been fifteen minutes and not one single person had showed up. The one event staff was already looking at you as if to ask whether they could go home early. You started to look at your phone while downing the glass of wine in your hand. Still not a word from Jamie. You hadn’t heard from him since you sent the voicemail and you felt embarrassed just thinking about it. It seemed like you were going to need more wine.

But then, a man enters. He is wiry, with a blazer and a glorious grey and black shoulder length mane. He is holding a notebook and looking around keenly. You have no fucking idea who he is.

“Can I help you?”

“Ah yes, I’m Trent Crimm.”

“Are you sure you’re in the right place?”

“I’m here for the exhibit Everything In Its Right Place.” You nod, dumbstruck. “Ah, great, don’t mind me.”

You watch him as he looks at each painting before scribbling in his notepad. That was strange.

After him walks in one of the most beautiful women you have seen, followed by a small man wearing glasses.

“Hello, welcome to the Private View!” You say a little bit too loudly, and you worry that the wine may have gone to your head. The woman leans over to you and of course she smells beautiful too. “Hello, I’m Rebecca. Is it alright if some of my friends come in too?”

“Absolutely, the more the merrier!”

A couple more glamorous women file in, as well as some fancy looking older gentlemen in suits. Behind them is a colourful blond haired woman with an Essex accent and a very fluffy jacket, talking about how her PR firm which is on the hunt for new talent. You made a mental note to talk to her later, and as you do she looks over at you and winks, which makes you feel flustered.

The events staff comes over.

“Are they on the guest list?”

“Oh yeah.” You keenly nod, hoping they are not paid enough to grass you up.

And then walks in a very familiar moustachioed man.

“Why, you must be the modern Louise Bourgeois our Jamie has been speaking so highly of.” You don’t expect the honeyed Southern twang and you find yourself blushing. He’s more handsome than the small picture by Jamie’s bed gave away.

“I wish! Although Jamie knew who Louise Bourgeois was?”

“I mean, I think he is more of a Georgia O’Keefe guy. But I love old Lou Lou. Art is a guarantee-”

“Of sanity. Very impressive -?”

“Theodore Lasso, at your service ma’am. Although my friends call me Ted.”

“Are we friends?”

“I sure hope to be. Jamie will not stop going on about how great you are, so I thought I best see it in person myself.” He offers a hand and you feel yourself go even redder.

“Well, it is lovely to make your acquaintance, Ted.”

You see Trent’s head has whipped around this point and he is striding towards Ted.

“Ted you’re going to love these paintings -” Trend hooks his arm in Teds and Ted waves you a goodbye as he is quickly dragged off.

You see all of Jamie’s teammates file in after Ted, including Roy who gives you a little nod. They have all brought people with them, including some women who you swear might be famous models, and before long the room is densely packed. You can’t believe it. You even have a few people come up to you to ask for interviews, and once the Trent man has sufficiently shown Ted around the room several times over, he asks if you want to be profiled for one of the big papers.

“I’ve always liked highlighting promising new talent in any field, and I feel you’d be a great match.” He smiles at you and you feel your stomach start to fizz. The one waiter who has been frantically pouring drinks for the last half hour runs over to you.

“A couple of people want to buy the paintings, are they for sale?”

“All the ones without red dots are, yeah.”

“How much do they cost?”

“How much are they willing to pay?” The waiter runs off and comes back, handing a long list of offers. Your eyes boggle at the amount.

“Fuck me.”

“Someone said they wanted to snap you up before Satchel did or something?”

“I assume they mean Saatchi.” The waiter shrugs. “Call Simon, he’ll help with the sales.

“I don’t think he’ll pick-”

“Send him a picture of the offers. He’ll definitely pick up.”

The waiter hurries off and you stare at the piece of paper. You can’t believe all this is happening. But you still check your phone.

Are you coming?

No reply.

“Ted? I don’t suppose you heard anything from Jamie did you?”

He smiles and taps his nose.

“I’m afraid I was sworn to secrecy.”

You get back to your wine. That would be a weird response if he had told Ted he never wanted to see you again. But the whole day was starting to feel very weird. You decided to pop out for some fresh air. However, as you walk outside you see a very familiar orange car parked outside. In the driver's seat is Jamie in a suit, holding flowers, staring at his phone.

“You know, I didn't order an Uber.”

Jamie jumps.

“Jesus woman, you nearly scared the living daylights out of me!”

“I could say the same of you. Can I come in?”

He gestures to the seat next to him. You walk around and slide into the car.

“You look stunning.” Jamie says, looking over you and you suddenly feel very naked in this dress.

“Thanks. It’s certainly an improvement from when you usually pick me up.” You fiddle with your hem. “So can you tell me why you’re sitting outside my exhibit instead of going inside? You’re the only person here who is actually on the guest list.”

He looks back down at the flowers.

“I dunno. I guess I was worried you might not want to see me after, y'know" He nods his head towards you. The kiss. Before you can reply, he starts talking again. "That’s why I got everyone else here first.”

“This was all you?”

He looks out the front of the window.

“I mean the boys wanted to come anyway, but I spoke to Rebecca and Ted and Keeley. It was Ted’s idea to invite Trent, because he knows lots of people at papers, and Keeley knows people through her firm and Rebecca knows loads of rich guys because I dunno, she’s rich and fit -”

You reach over and gently touch his arm.

“Thank you Jamie, this means a lot - ”

“Any time. I just want you to be happy, you know?” You grip his arm a little tighter.

“But you didn’t have to do any of this. I would have been happy if you were the only person who showed up.” Jamie finally looks at you. You just stare at each other for a moment, saying nothing. At this point you reach over and tenderly place your lips on his. He doesn't resist, immediately putting his hand on the side of your neck. Your hands start wandering down his torso before he pulls away suddenly.

“I don't want you thinking I'm trying to buy you or something. Me and Roy watched Pretty Woman the other week but I swear-"

"I know Jamie. Besides, you haven't even bought a painting yet." You try to laugh him off but he holds you firm.

"I just want you to remember you earned this. You are really, really talented, it's just - it's just everyone needs help sometimes"

You are suddenly struck silent for a moment, your eyes watering.

"Ah fuck, I didn't want to make you cry again!"

You sniff. "This is good crying though, I swear! I just never realised you were so wise."

"Oi you cheeky mare, I'm trying to be nice!" You both laugh, before he reaches over and threads his fingers between yours. "I think I’m in love with you, you know?"

He looks up at you, uncertain. Your stomach is fizzing, but in a way that makes you feel like you could fly. You smile.

"I know. The thing is, I'm in love with you too, Jamie Tartt." You stare at each other, before your lips crash into each other, your hands crawling all over your torsos and necks, your breathing becoming more ragged before Jamie pulls away again.

"Now come on you, this is your big night, remember. We better get inside before we have to go right here in the back like a pair of teenagers."

You place a hand on his thigh. "I mean, that sounds good to me."

""You are gonna be the death of me, I swear." He opens the car door.

"Actually, to be fair there is one painting I think you should see."

The two of you stroll into the gallery holding hands.

"Fucking finally." Roy exclaims, before patting Jamie on the shoulder. "Now don't fuck it up Jamie, I like this one." You and Roy share a smile. You felt like you had something to thank him for, but you weren’t sure what.

"I see you met Jamie." You turn around to see a small old woman in colourful clothing.

“Sylvia? What are you doing here, I thought you weren’t back for another week?”

Sylvia gestures to a handsome older gentleman in the corner “Of course I had to see your exhibit darling! Now don’t worry darling, I’m staying with one of my good friends.” She winks before leaning in conspiratorially. “You’ll have the flat all to yourself.”

“Sylvia!” You swat her arm.

“What? Your mother told me you were going through a dry spell. I’m just so glad you and Jamie finally got to meet.”

Your mouth is agape. You said that months and months ago -

“Jamie darling, it's so nice to see you again!” Sylvia airkisses Jamie, before swanning off. You lean into the crook of Jamie's shoulder. You’d say you hate how natural it feels, but you fucking love it.

“Do you think Sylvia set this whole thing up? Between you and me?”

“Well, she did keep telling me she knew the perfect woman for me, with a fantastic arse-”

“Jamie!” You poke his cheek. “Although speaking of fantastic arse, let me show you my painting!” You drag him over to the biggest painting in the room. It is rich and vibrant and while somewhat abstract, almost definitely a nude. “What do you think?”

“I think it will be perfect in my living room. Well, almost perfect.”

“Almost? What else could be more perfect than this?” You gesture to the bum cheeks.

Jamie rolls his head as if mulling it over.

“You?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh my god Jamie Tartt, where did you pick up such a naff line? You’re lucky you are very handsome.” You reach up to kiss him, your fingers brushing his neck and jaw. and he leans to whisper in your ear.

“You know, now you’re gonna be a famous artist now, someone may actually try to kidnap you. You might need some form of security.”

“True. Do you know anyone?”

“No.” You laugh. “But I do know an excellent driver. And he does know a lot of excellent private spots.”

“How soon can he start?”

“How about right now?” You take his hand in yours.

“Sounds perfect to me.”

---

Ah hope you all enjoyed this two silly billys in love! Pls send me requests of any headcanons/drabbles you'd be interested in seeing that I can bash out while working on this new juicy Roy Kent fic!!

@thebookwormlife @taytaylala12 @eugene-emt-roe @skewcherries @okkkkkkkksure @beingalive1 @gothicwidowsworld @atjamesbbarnes @e-mmygrey

#jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso #jamie tartt #jamie tartt imagine #romance #fanfic

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herearedragons · 4 months

Text

The Hanged Man (chapter 1)

Read on AO3

Notes: This fic relies on some plot points from the short story "The Reaping". If you want the full context for the fic without having to read the short story (which I do recommend, btw), see the AO3 notes or scroll to the bottom of this post.

Edér had imagined his own death way too many times.

There was the war, for one. He'd try not to think about it much, but sometimes things would happen and leave him wondering if that would be him, too.

Stabbing. Slashing. Arrows. Bolts. Broken necks, burned bodies. Slow deaths from wounds gone bad.

And besides your usual pick of deaths, there was Eothas.

Edér knew for a fact he wasn't the only one thinking about it. Lots of soldiers back then were going to sleep every night wondering if they'd just be... smitten out of existence, before they ever woke up.

Close your eyes, and the next thing you see is your god, and he goes well, Edér, you chose the wrong side, so welcome to being dead. No rebirth for you, either. Right into the void with you.

Not the most fun thought to fall asleep with.

Lately, though, it had all been the same thing. The rough, heavy noose around his neck, hands tied behind his back; the creaking of old barren branches above his head, and all of Gilded Vale staring up at him.

The funny thing was, now that he was there for real, it almost felt fake. The rope against his skin; the barrel that would soon be kicked out from under his feet; the silent grey crowd; there was a weird flatness to it all. It was all wrong, just a little off from how it appeared in his recurring dreams.

His dreams didn’t account for the rain, either.

It was just a light drizzle, but Edér had been standing under it for a while, in the same shirt and trousers he fell asleep in the night before, and by now he was soaked and chilled to the bone.

Part of him was starting to wish they’d just get it over with.

And to think that he almost got out. He should have left as soon as the bell tolled three times yesterday, instead of putting it off until next morning.

Maybe he could have tagged along with that Watcher and the twitchy elf that had been staying at the Black Hound. They were strange folks, sure, but neither of them looked too sturdy; they could have used a protector on the road.

He almost asked to come along with them. Even now, Edér wasn't sure why he didn't.

Same reason why he’d waited this long to leave, probably.

A few feet away from his improvised gallows, Urgeat the magistrate was droning on and on about the "inestimable" Lord Raedric, his care for Gilded Vale, and his love for his wife.

His wife.

When his door got kicked in first thing in the morning, guards swarming in to drag him out of bed, Edér thought it was about Eothas. He figured maybe it was also about the rebels, or because someone saw him talking to that Watcher, and that was somehow also a crime now.

He didn't think they'd say that he murdered a woman.

Lord Raedric's wife. He still didn't know all the details of it - nobody bothered to tell him, since they were all thinking he did it - but what he gathered was that she turned up dead somewhere in the village, and it was close enough to his house to make them think he was involved.

Urgeat was just getting to that part in his speech, now.

Edér had never even seen her up close.

"...spreading dissent and worship of a dead god are, of course, far from the only crimes committed by this man. When words of deception no longer satisfied his foul goals, he turned to murder, and took the life or our beloved Lady Ygrid - "

"Didn't do it."

Even from this distance, Edér could see a sour grimace form on the magistrate's face as soon as he was interrupted.

"Silence, murderer," Urgeat said.

Edér shrugged; the noose shifted uncomfortably on his shoulders.

"Just setting the facts straight," he said. "Didn't do it. Ain't ever laid a finger on her. Sure, I’ve got blood on my hands, but last I checked they were all soldiers."

Not all of those soldiers were Readcerans.

Standing on that barrel gave him a great view of the crumbling shell of the temple behind the villagers' backs - and, standing just beyond it, the house that once belonged to Osgod Rask.

They did find the corpses, eventually. Some settlers moved in, took Raedric up on his offer of land; smelled something foul in the cellar, opened it, and saw what became of the two men in the years that had passed since Edér left them there.

Those settlers didn't stay.

"So you would like us to believe," Urgeat said dryly. "However, lies will not get you out of this noose. I would advise that you save your breath."

Edér couldn't hold back a snort of laughter; not that he was trying that hard.

"Right! 'Cause I have so much breathing left to do still."

Was it his imagination, or did he hear a giggle somewhere in the crowd?

Nobody liked the magistrate. Fact was, were it him in the noose instead of Edér, they'd all be clapping and cheering.

Nobody was cheering for his hanging, at least. He’d like to believe there were some people in the square doubting that he actually did it.

The problem was that it didn’t matter.

Three tolls of the bell spelled death. Before the lady’s body turned up, it meant death for a lot of people, and probably exile for just as many; by the time Raedric was done “appeasing the gods”, Gilded Vale would have been a ghost town.

But now… Now the lord’s wife was dead, and they had one person to blame for it. And, while they were at it, they could blame him for everything else, too.

Maybe there were some folks left in Gilded Vale who didn’t want to see him hang, but they would take it if it meant that he would be the last.

Something drew his eyes back to the empty Rask house.

Daeg's ma, Lifa, had this look on her face when the bodies were found. Whenever Edér was around, she'd get that same look again, like somehow she knew.

Edér didn't regret what he did. Daeg raised a weapon against a woman and her child, which in Edér's book meant he got what was coming to him - but it didn't mean Lifa deserved to die without ever finding out what happened to her son.

Gods know he’d give a lot to find out what happened to Woden.

"Tell you what, Urgeat," Edér said. "You're gonna hang me, at least hang me for something I did."

He took a breath, preparing to confess to everything that happened with Elafa and her child and the two guards that night - and then the words never came out.

There was a figure walking through the ruins of the old temple.

"Well?" Urgeat inquired impatiently. "If you wish to add to the list of your crimes, I will not stop you, but, by the Wheel, make it quick."

The stranger was wearing a heavy black cloak with an unusually large, baggy hood. Edér couldn't see their face, but they were moving, quickly and purposefully, towards the gathering.

"I take it you have changed your mind," Urgeat said. "Very well. Let us continue - "

"Stop!"

The cloaked stranger had crossed the temple, and stopped at the foot of the tree. She was the one speaking; by the sound of it, she was a woman.

Urgeat let out a heavy, drawn-out sigh.

"Miss,” he said, "Perhaps you failed to notice that we are in the middle of an official proceeding. Whatever business you have, I am sure it can wait a minute longer."

"It cannot," she said. "By the duc's authority, I demand that you stop this execution right now."

"By the duc's - excuse me, who are you?"

In response, she simply reached up and pulled back her strange, heavy hood.

A murmur rolled through the crowd.

She was Ondra-touched. Blue skin the color of a clear sky; black eyes with no whites, two glowing dots for pupils; glowing white hair, a crescent moon-shaped growth on her forehead, and two curving horns, glowing also.

That last part explained the weird shape of her hood.

Edér had never seen this kind of godlike before, but he had heard of them.

During the war, word was that there was one of them in his division. Edér had never met the guy himself, but heard that he could fly, and that any wounds he received would heal right up. Whether the rumors about his blessings were true or not, it was impossible to say now; a few weeks in, the godlike took the brunt of a spell from a Readceran priest and died.

"Agent Selene Moonborn of Dunryd Row," said the Ondra-touched woman. "You may address me as Agent Moonborn, or Selene. Do you need to see my credentials?"

Moonborn... She sure was.

Wait - Dunryd Row?

"I would greatly appreciate that," Urgeat said, but his tone was no longer as snide as it was a moment ago. In fact, Edér was pretty sure that he heard a tinge of fear in his voice.

No wonder. If this was an actual Dunryd cipher, something serious was going on.

Selene approached the magistrate, her cloak swaying silently, and held something out to him. The drizzling rain didn't seem to bother her much.

While Urgeat was inspecting the item she handed him, she looked up over his shoulder. Her eyes met Edér's for a moment, and almost immediately moved on, taking in the rest of the hanging tree.

Was he just a part of the scenery to her, dead already?

"...Very well," Urgeat said, finally. "Welcome to Gilded Vale, Agent Moonborn. As you can see, you find us at an unfortunate hour; we have just lost our lord’s heir, and now our lady as well. Fortunately, her murderer has already been apprehended, and we are in the process of bringing him to justice."

Selene's eyes returned to the magistrate standing before her.

"That man?"

"Edér Teylecg. A troublesome individual. Eothasian."

Urgeat spat out that last word like it was a curse.

"I see," Selene said. "Unfortunately, you can't execute him."

What?

"...What?"

That was probably the first and last time he and Urgeat had ever agreed on something.

"The murder of a thayn, or a thayn's immediate family, falls under the duc's jurisdiction," Selene explained matter-of-factly. "In the absence of a representative of the duc's authority, the local authorities may investigate and persecute the crime; however, with a Dunryd Row investigator present, that is no longer the case. In other words, you can't execute this man until I have conducted a thorough investigation and determined that he is guilty; in fact, if you do hang him right now, it will be considered a crime and I will have to arrest you."

Something mesmerizing was happening. The longer she spoke, the more Urgeat seemed to shrink away from her; at no point did she raise her voice, but there was an underlying pressure to the calm, even cadence of her speech that seemed to have a nearly violent effect on the magistrate.

Even with a noose around his neck, Edér found that entertaining to watch. Judging by what he was seeing in the crowd, he wasn't the only one. Though, the villagers weren't exactly on the agent's side, either; many of them were smirking, but just as many were eyeing her with suspicion.

Urgeat made one last feeble attempt to resist:

"Lord Raedric - "

"I would be very grateful if you could arrange an audience with the lord for me," Selene said. "Tell him that a Dunryd Row agent has arrived to investigate the murder of his wife, and would like to hear his testimony. I would like to see the body, as well."

There was a long moment of silence.

"I will relay your message to His Lordship," Urgeat said, finally.

Then, the magistrate turned around. His face was even more grey and dead-looking than it usually was.

"You heard the agent," he said to the surrounding guards. "Take him down."

If Selene's appearance earned a murmur from the crowd, the sound they were making now was more like the distant rumble of thunder.

Something was happening that had never happened before, and now every mind in Gilded Vale was feverishly working on the same question: what does this mean for me?

Every mind except for Edér's, that is. He was a little busy trying to come to terms with standing on solid ground again.

Still cold, still with his hands tied, still accused of a murder he didn't commit - but, somehow, alive.

The same guard that took the noose off his neck walked him up to where Selene and the magistrate were talking.

The crowd around them was beginning to disperse. Urgeat never gave an explicit dismissal, but the guards had stepped away from the tree and started giving the rest of the villagers move-along-now looks.

Most folks got the hint, and those who didn't got pulled along by those who did.

Selene glanced at Edér again as he approached; this time her gaze lingered. It felt as though she was assessing something about him.

Eventually she nodded to herself, seemingly having reached a conclusion, and said to the guard standing beside him:

“Untie him, please.”

The man just shuffled in place awkwardly and looked at Urgeat.

"I don’t know if this is wise," the magistrate said. "He may become violent."

Only if you keep talking, Edér thought; usually this kind of thought would come right out of his mouth, but not this time.

He wasn't in a hurry to go back to the tree just yet.

"If he does, I'll protect you," Selene said.

Her voice and expression were dead serious, but she was definitely taking the piss at Urgeat here.

Edér decided that he liked her.

The guard unsheathed his sword and began to saw at the rope at Edér's wrists; meanwhile, Selene turned to him and began speaking.

"Edér Teylecg, by the duc's authority, I am placing you under arrest. No harm will come to you unless you attempt to resist or flee, or your guilt is proven."

The rope fell off.

"Noted," Edér said.

It was as if she didn't hear.

"Is there a jail in Gilded Vale?" Selene asked, turning to Urgeat again.

The magistrate smiled thinly:

"There are the lord's dungeons."

"Understood," she said. "House arrest it is, then. Please inform the vilagers that they are not to visit the suspect while the investigation is ongoing."

And, just like that, Edér’s fate was decided.

☀︎

The walk back to his house was silent.

Edér was leading the way, the agent following behind. He could barely hear her steps; a couple times he even got the urge to turn around and check that she was still there.

He didn't. Wouldn’t want to do anything that she could interpret as "trying to flee or resist"; Edér had a funny feeling that, despite not having any visible weapons and being a head shorter than him, Selene had her ways of making him regret that.

His mind was still all over the place, trying to work out what his current reality looked like.

He didn't die. He was walking the path back to his house, which, about half an hour ago, he was never going to do again.

There was a Dunryd Row cipher walking behind him. She somehow knew about the murder that happened just this morning; she couldn't have come all the way from Defiance Bay, could she?

Where did she come from?

Why did she stop the hanging?

It was fun watching her have a go at Urgeat, but, now that the magistrate was gone and Edér was alone with her, he did very much want to know what she was planning to do with him.

Now that he thought about it, he didn’t really know what a cipher could do.

There were plenty of folks who came to Gilded Vale saying they were one, and claimed all sorts of powers: some said they could see the future, some that they could read minds and souls. Most of them turned out to be a fraud, and at least a few of them ended up on the tree.

Nothing he could remember about them gave him a frame of reference for what a real Dunryd Row cipher was capable of.

Killing him, probably. Whatever else they taught their agents, Edér was pretty sure they had that part covered.

He was still thinking about that when his house came into view.

Suddenly, Selene's voice sounded behind his back:

"Stop."

He stopped.

"Is that your house?" she asked.

"...Yeah."

"Do you live alone?"

"I do."

"There's someone inside."

…Well, that wasn't right.

"It's just one person," Selene said after a moment. "We can approach. Stay behind me."

Before Edér could ask how she could tell, she walked past him and headed straight for the door.

The only option left was to follow her.

Up close, Edér could hear it too: something was happening inside. There was a heavy scraping noise, like something was being dragged across the floor.

The door gave no resistance when Selene pushed it open; the bolt got broken earlier that morning.

She stepped inside.

The room was a mess. There were drawers open; his clothes were in a heap on the floor; the tools that were supposed to hang on the walls were laid out on the big dining table.

The scraping noise was coming from the far end of the house, where a man was trying to drag a chest out of the corner.

The chest was heavy. Edér knew that, because that was where kept his Saint's War armor; his sword and shield, too.

There wasn't much left in the house worth keeping under lock and key, but his armor and weapons were two of the things he did think could be stolen.

Turns out, he was right to worry.

"Excuse us," Selene said.

The man stopped struggling with the chest and froze.

"...Who's that?"

The shadows made it hard to recognize him, but, as soon as Edér heard the voice, he knew.

"Algar, you sheepfucker! Couldn't wait 'til I was dead?"

At the sound of his voice, the man jumped and straightened up at once, turning around to look at them, white as a sheet.

Sure enough, they were looking at Algar Bramweg: reedy, thin-haired and watery-eyed. Came back from the war with burns on his face and left arm, but he came back.

He was a meek guy, but Edér used to think he was alright. Until that moment, that is.

"Edér!" Algar nearly squeaked. "Wh-what are you doing here? Aren't you - "

"Hanging on a tree?" Edér asked grimly. "Matter of fact, I was. They let me down so I could see who was in here, stealing my stuff."

"Well, I - I thought you wouldn't be needing it anymore!" Algar glanced around with the look of a cornered animal in his eyes. "...I'll put it back. I'll put it all back. I - what happened? Who is this?"

With that last question, he gestured wildly at Selene, who was just standing there the entire exchange.

"Agent Selene Moonborn, Dunryd Row," she said. "I take it you weren't in the square when I arrived. All you need to know for now is that the hanging has been postponed, and this building is now off limits. Please return everything you may have taken from here; it could be evidence."

Algar looked completely lost, now.

"...Evidence?"

"In the investigation of Lady Ygrid's murder," Selene clarified. "Like I said, this is all you need to know right now. If you're confused, ask one of your friends who were present for the hanging; I don't have time to repeat the details."

Algar looked over at him.

Edér shrugged:

"I'd do as she says, if I were you."

When Algar was done emptying his pockets, it turned out that he had picked up a couple of smaller tools, Edér’s entire whiteleaf stash, a handful of copper pands - and the book of prayers that survived year after year of purges in spite of Raedric’s efforts, safely hidden on top of one of the ceiling beams.

That last one puzzled him.

Algar didn’t just take the book - he was looking for it. There was no way for him to stumble upon it on accident.

“Alright,” Edér said, “The coins and the whiteleaf, I get. Tools, too. What did you need that for?”

Algar didn’t quite meet his eyes when he answered:

“Well, so many of those got burned or thrown away, I figured - the right folks would pay a fortune for one that’s still intact.”

So he was going to sell it. Made sense; more sense than Algar secretly being a devout Eothasian, anyhow.

Once Algar had left, Selene shut the door behind him. She regarded the broken bolt for a moment, then said:

"This will have to be fixed."

It wasn't clear whether she was talking to herself or to him.

Then, she turned around and addressed him directly:

“Please, take a seat.”

It was damn weird to be invited to sit down in his own house. Felt like an insult more than anything else; Edér had half a mind to say something about it, but thought better of it.

He pulled a chair out from the dining table and sat down.

As soon as he did, he regretted it. His body realized that he was no longer on his feet, and took it as an invitation to crash; immediately, his limbs felt heavy, and his head began to spin.

The entire morning was now catching up to him. Waking up to guards in his house; being dragged to the square; standing in the rain, counting the seconds left until his last breath.

How long had he been awake for? An hour? Felt like two entire days, at this point.

Black bones of Eothas, he’d almost -

No, wasn’t the time for that. He’d think about that later, or maybe never.

He kind of liked that second option better.

His hands were shaking just a little; probably because he was still really cold.

Edér looked up at the agent.

“Mind if I start the fire?”

“...Oh.” It was as if she’d just realized the same thing he did. “Not at all. If you want to change your clothes, I’ll wait by the door.”

Well, that was nice of her.

He took her up on that offer.

Once he’d gotten a fire going in the firepit and changed into the clothes Algar so kindly left out for him, it was much easier to believe that he was, in fact, still alive.

Algar was going to take his whiteleaf, but he’d left the pipe right where it was. Figures; he had his own.

“You smoke, agent?” Edér asked, just as she stepped back into the room.

“I don’t, but you can go ahead.”

And so they sat down at the table, the fire in the middle of the room casting their shadows onto the far wall, the smoke from his pipe rising like a sheer curtain between them.

He was at home, now, and a little more certain that he could handle whatever Selene was about to throw at him.

“Suppose I should thank you,” Edér said. “If it weren't for you showing up when you did, would have been one more corpse on that tree - and Algar would’ve been smoking my whiteleaf just about now.”

For the first time since she walked out into the square, he saw Selene’s expression become something other than a distant, observing look.

Her eyes narrowed just a little, her pupils twinkling like twin stars in the night sky; she didn’t really smile, but her face softened in a way that made him think that maybe it was her way of smiling.

“It was a close call,” she said. “I’m glad I could stop them from hanging an innocent.”

Whatever Edér expected her to say, that was not it.

He didn't think he'd feel that much relief at hearing her say it, either. Of course he didn't murder the lady; he knew that.

But how did Selene know?

"...You figure that out with your cipher powers?"

The only other option he could think of was that she killed the lady, and Edér really hoped it wasn’t that.

“Good guess,” Selene said.

Her eyes drifted away from him for a moment, like she was considering something, or hesitating.

Finally, she said:

"I'll get straight to the point: I wasn't sent here to investigate the murder of Lady Ygrid. As far as I know, no one outside of Gilded Vale even knows that she’s dead.”

It took him a moment to process what she was saying.

“...Wait, so… what’s all this for?”

Selene sighed. Something was gone from her voice and her posture now - that invisible pressure she used against Urgeat. It was as if an act had been dropped.

“I came to Gilded Vale on Dunryd Row business that had nothing to do with Lady Ygrid. I happened to arrive just as an execution was happening. I read the mind of the man about to be hanged and knew that he didn’t commit the crime he was being accused of, so… I intervened in the only way I could think of.”

…By lying to Urgeat.

Wait.

She read his mind?

So that was true about ciphers, then.

Oh gods. How much did she see? Did she know about - no, she couldn’t. She wouldn’t have helped him, had she known.

Was she listening right now?

“I’m not reading your mind right now,” Selene said.

Edér couldn’t help but laugh nervously:

“You’re not really helping your own case here. How’d you know I just thought that?”

She shrugged:

“It’s the first thought people have when they realize I can do this.”

Oh.

“...Well, alright, that’s fair.”

“Sometimes, I can’t help but overhear the thoughts of others,” Selene said. “Usually, those thoughts are surface-level and charged with intense emotion. Feelings of pain or anger, for example. In your case, you were thinking pretty loudly that you didn’t do it.”

Well, now he had to ask.

“Was I… thinking about anything else?”

Selene met his eyes, unblinking.

“You were cold. And you wanted the magistrate to shut up.”

“...That sounds about right.”

She didn’t hear about the bodies in the cellar. He must have had some unbelievable luck.

Better not waste it.

“From now on, I’ll always let you know when I’m listening to your thoughts,” Selene said. “I’m saying this because I would like us to be allies.”

She leaned forward, cutting through the protective curtain of whiteleaf smoke and bringing her face just a little closer to his. The glowing markings on her cheeks, a dot and an upturned crescent moon under each eye, stood out starkly against her skin.

“I want you to help me find the real murderer of Lady Ygrid.”

That answered the question of what she wanted from him, at least.

"Why do you think I can help?" Edér asked. "If you really did read my mind, you saw that I don’t know anything."

"About the murder, maybe, but you know Gilded Vale," Selene said. "I could use the help of a local. And, for better or worse, you're the only one in town I trust right now - seeing as you're the only one who wasn't almost an accomplice in another murder today."

"...Wait, what?"

She gave him an amused look.

"I'm talking about your murder, Edér. What do you think that hanging was?"

Well, that was a charged question, wasn't it.

He glanced over at the Eothasian book of prayers, still resting on the far end of the table. Was there even a point in trying to hide it again?

"Some folks 'round here would call it justice," he said, finally.

Selene followed his gaze to the book, gave a little nod and withdrew, putting some more distance between them again.

"I wish I could say it's not the same in Defiance Bay, but I'd be lying," she said. "Where you have Raedric, we have the Dozens. They don't have nearly as much power, and that's the best thing I can say about them."

"Seems you don't like them much."

"I don't. Like your magistrate, they like to point fingers, and make my work - finding the truth - harder."

She paused for a moment, then asked:

"You fought in the war, didn't you?"

"I did," Edér said. "On the right side, mind you. Got any doubts, you can read my mind about it."

Selene shook her head.

"I believe you. I just wanted to say - that’s another reason you’re a good ally to have. You did the right thing, even if it meant standing up to your god; that takes more than bravery."

Edér nearly choked on the puff he'd just taken from his pipe.

Gods damn. Would he ever figure out what she was about? Every time it felt like he was starting to get a beat on the conversation, she'd hit him with something else.

"Now here’s something you don't hear a lot these days," he said.

Now Selene smiled, but there wasn't an ounce of joy to it.

"I dedicated my life to digging up things others desperately want forgotten," she said. "Maybe I haven't gone to war against Ondra, but I can't imagine she's too happy with me, either. You had to go even further. I think that calls for respect, not persecution."

Edér stared at her for a moment.

"I've got to ask," he said, finally. "Are all of you Dunryd folks like this, or is it just you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. You're getting real involved in something you've got no stakes in. Sharing all kinds of opinions. Round here, that's how you end up on the tree; trust me, I know."

Something in her expression shifted; it became cold and pointed, and, for a moment, Edér was sure that he had fucked up.

"I don't like seeing people be disposed of," Selene said.

And then her expression smoothed out again.

"...Besides, solving crimes is what I do. I wasn't ordered to investigate this one, but I don't think my superiors would mind, as long as I completed my original mission as well."

Edér decided that it was probably safe to start breathing again.

"You're goddamn weird, agent," he said. "I don't know what exactly I can do, but - I think I wanna help you."

Again, that smiling-without-smiling look.

"I'm glad," Selene said.

"Well... What's our move, then?"

She regarded him for a moment.

"Take a minute to recover. Clean up, eat something," she said. "Then, we'll go see the crime scene."

Notes (spoilers for The Reaping):

In The Reaping, Edér and his ex Elafa end up killing two of Raedric's soldiers, who were threatening Elafa and her Hollowborn child. Edér hides their bodies in an abandoned house; Elafa leaves the town with her child the same night.

#pillars of eternity #edér teylecg #herearedragons writing #project: the hanged man #and so it begins #oc: watcher selene #technically my birthday is tomorrow but I'm posting this early so people can get around to actually reading it

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max-the-many · 9 months

Text

Start here:

'body a day' #19: dad

Took me quite a minute to figure out his adress. Couldn't ask as I was his son. Luckily his phone got face recognition. So an hour later I was on my way out of the city to meet his, or may I say my dad.

He greeted me at the porch as I arrived at a nice little house in the outskirts.

"Almost thought you might skip it!" he chuckled, giving me a hearty half-hug grabbing my shoulders before heading towards a big heap of uncut wood that wouldn't be all of what had to be prepared for the winter. Much time to get to know him while getting to know my new body at the same time, working, sweating, seeing his older version doing just that.

Turned out, he lived alone, beeing one of those weel known, but independent wolfs after his wife left feom one day to the other.

The way he treated me, his son, though, really spoke for a big heart, making me even more horny than in the gym at the same time.

It was pretty late when we finally headed in, going for a nice clunk of golden juice infront of the fireplace.

"Don't you wanna get your stuff in" he wondered.

"My... ah, ehm..."

"You will stay for the weekend as planned, don't you"

"I... sure!" I collected myself "I... damn, totally forget to pack some"

He just laughed it off "Guess it is ur old stuff then. Gonna head for the shower, though. If you wont first"

I didn't. I was just too curious to look around while he was away. When he was, though, my thoughts had another focus. To know, that he was undressing now, getting out of those dorty, sweaty cloth, stepping under the hot shower just got the best of me.

Eventually I gave into it, went up the stairs and ended up infront of the bathroom. The sound of the water, the smell of soap and man oozing out of the slightly opened door... It didn't take long for me to open the door completely, taking in the sight of him behind frosted showerdoors.

"Jacob?"

"Sorry... dad. Cant find any matching clothes. Where did you put 'em" I improvised.

"Didn't move anything" he replied "let me just finish. I'll show you"

I left. That little sneak really got me going, longing for me. His clothes alone, laying on the counter, screaming to be sniffed, to be worn even.

Worn... my mind went for his closet. So I looked around until I found the bedroom. To open the dresser, seeing all that stuff that he wore at some time really was a sight of it own. I almost grabbed some underwear when I saw a basket of dirty ones, going for it at once, fishing out some tighty whities to dive in when I heared the water stopping.

So I rushed back downstairs, chucking the underwear right into my crotch.

"Free to go!" I heared the old one shortly after, so I did, still having a major twitch against that whity if his. At the showers though it wasnt only that. Seeing myself, looking back as his son gave me the rest, sniffing his well-worled pits, injoying his shape under the shower, thinking of his old man while pumping out a major one.

The evening went pretty relaxed, chatting, sitting infront of a nice fire with some nice rye. I couldn't keep myself from reaching down every once in a while, partly out of pure horny, partly out of curiosity on his reaction.

Other than that I broad up some rather particular topics like jerking of. I planely asked if he caught me, as his son, doing it, going further about his own experiences which he answered surprisingly open. My handling though didn't get less at those instances, but he kept chill about it. He never saw his son or crashed into such occations, but as we talked I figured, he would have been totally fine with it. Even as I constantly reached for my crotch now, which he couldn't really ignore, he didn't loose a single word about it.

And I left it like that, injoying my little game, hightened even since I wore the very underwear I took from his dirty bin underneath.

Eventually we went for bed. There I layed, strippee down to just that tighty white brief of the hunk of a dad, laying mere meters away, twitching right there, thinking of him, of me, that dad-son-couple I encountered st the gym, now beeing all in, dying go make a move.

And after slumbering away a little I got up. I just had to, beeing driven over in thar early night, step by step, taken just wearing tjose briefs, eventually Peeking through the bedroom door.

The dad seemed to be asleep as I saw his broad, naked shoulders under the blanked. Quietly I stepped in, slowly, with a pulsing heart, staring at him with tenting groins. I couldn't do otherwise nut getting even closer. He appeared to be deeply asleep.

"Dad?" I whispered. Nothing. So I stepped closer already recognizing the smell from the bathroom if not imagined. My hand reached out like moved by it's own.

Suddenly a twitch!

But i moved on, clearing my throat to further test his state.

When I touched the blanket I felt my heart with every breath, his presence, his warmth. Then I slowly pulled on it. No reaction. Pulling on, bit by bit, revealing his back, inch by inch until... a clean, white waistband got visible. No way. As I pulled further, it got confirmed. He too was only wearing one of those tight, white briefs spanning my hips, moving under heavy twitches from his sons pulsing tool.

I couldn't stop, reaching ever so slowly towards his hairy chest, barely touching it when he suddenly churned, along with deep, sleepy moans. My hand remained. And he remained sleeping, allowing me to fully cup those meety pect, even massaging them the slightest bits while shivers ran theoughout my whole body.

I was so captired by the whole situation that I even didn't realized my hand touching my crotch, massaging it through the aalready damp fabric. His pleasant sighs didn't affect me less. So I continued fondling him, fondling me, getting down over his stomach to his soft but well packed crotch, feeling it while unpacking mine, breathing heavily until I suddenly began to erupt, barely able to contain heavy moans and even heavier grips to his package.

I almost forgot what really was hüpeningat that moment until I snapped concious of it again, a surprised to see that musky man infront of me still asleep with a satisfied smile, my juice spread all over the floor up to his blanket.

To be continued...

#male bodysuit #male skinsuit #body a day #prompt

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dirty-bear-rick-sanchez · 5 months

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Hi, sorry to ask but have you written any fanfics where Jerry is autistic? I've read your autistic!morty fic and thought that was excellent. I'm trying to find Jerry-centric fanfics where he isn't mischaracterized/demonized. (Way too many people write Jerry as transphobic which -_-ll no he isn't)

Hi, no need to apologise! I haven't written any autistic Jerry fics and I'm not sure if I know of any (if anyone else does, please leave recs on this post!). I do 100% view him as autistic though. Thank you!

Yeah honestly Jerry being portrayed as transphobic is something that bothers me as a trans guy? I headcanon him as supportive but clueless/cringe at times (he a little confused but he got the spirit).

I do have a trans Morty WIP with a scene between Morty and Jerry, although Morty is still very early on in figuring out that he might be a guy, and Jerry kind of knows something is up but assumes Morty is a lesbian rather than a trans guy and so kind of fumbles but ultimately is trying to be supportive/nice. Morty does worry about Jerry not loving him anymore if he's trans, although this is Morty's POV rather than being objective/a thing that actually happens.

I'll leave the scene below the cut in case anyone's interested. Warnings for mention of periods (and them being referred to in a gendered way), fear of transphobia from parents, accidental misgendering (and misgendering/deadnaming of Morty in the text since this is only the very start of Morty's gender questioning).

“Morti? Rick said you’re sick. Are you OK?” Jerry opens the door. Morti quickly shoves her phone under her pillow. Thankfully, her dad is as oblivious as ever as he walks over and rests a hand against her forehead.

“You don’t feel warm. Is it, uh, you know,” Jerry points down towards his own abdomen, “woman troubles?” he asks in an exaggerated stage whisper. Morti wants to die all over again. She presses her face into her pillow.

“Hey, sweetheart, i-it’s OK.” Morti feels Jerry rest a tentative hand on her shoulder. “Do you need anything?”

Morti takes a few deep breaths to calm herself and then sits up.

“N-no, Dad, I’m OK.”

“OK, honey.” Jerry wraps his arms around her and Morti can’t help but wonder if he would still hug her like this if he knew what she’d spent the past couple of hours reading about. She hugs him back tightly, suddenly unable to stop thinking that she might have to make the most of the affection while it lasts.

When Jerry pulls back, his face clouds with concern and Morti realises she’s once again been crying. She’s getting really sick of that.

“Morti, honey, what’s wrong?”

Morti feels the question writhing around in her gut until it chokes its way out of her mouth. “Dad… you’d love me no matter what, right?”

“Of course, sweetie. No matter what, you’ll always be my daughter.”

The words are meant to be a comfort, but all Morti can think about is the possibility that she’s not his daughter.

“Morti? Are you gay? It’s OK if you’re gay, you know.” As always, Jerry is well-intentioned but clueless. Truthfully, Morti’s not really put much thought into her own sexual orientation, and it’s not her main concern right now. She shakes her head, and Jerry looks doubtful but leaves it.

After a few minutes, Morti works up the courage to speak again. “Dad? Could-could you… tell me a story? Like when I was little?” she cringes as she says the words, knowing she’s far too old to be asking for something like that. To her relief, Jerry smiles.

“Sure thing, sweetie.”

He launches into an improvised story, very similar to the ones she remembers him coming up with when she was younger. She has a memory of Summer complaining Jerry’s stories were boring, always demanding more action. However, once Summer had aged out of wanting a bedtime story and left Morti as the sole listener, Jerry had settled comfortably back into his original stories, which Morti found calming and reassuring.

Her dad’s voice relaxes her and she rests her head against the pillow, feeling her eyelids begin to droop. Jerry’s hand rests on her hair and strokes it gently, just as he used to all those years ago. It’s enough to block out the negative thoughts for the time being, and Morti is so exhausted from the recent events that she soon drifts peacefully into sleep.

#rick and morty #rnm #morty smith #jerry smith #autistic jerry #autistic jerry smith #trans morty #trans morty smith #transphobia #i hope this is at least semi-coherent #the brain fog is bad rn 😅

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uhohwhathaveidone · 2 years

Text

Seeds of Love (O.G)

Not a request because I’m currently working on a project based off two requests that I have but wrote up some Ominis content for you. Thank you for your patience and kind words as well, my brother is fine (He’s definitely in jail for riding an unregistered bike) and my mother is doing well since her surgery! I hope to begin writing and posting more soon and perhaps return to our original schedule, so be on the lookout! This is just fluff, and there’s no mention of the reader’s gender or house <3 just a small frustration because I wanted to use Stargazer Lillies in this bc they’re my favourite but they were bred in 1975 and wouldn’t have been a thing at the time, so I improvised and went with flowers native to Scottland. I ALMOST POSTED THIS TO THE WRONG BLOG I GOT SCARED

You take in a slow breath as the warm light from the sun hits your face, the warm breeze causing the flowers around you to gently sway. You turn to Ominis as you sighed, smiling as he fixed his robe. “There are plenty of different flowers around here that I haven’t seen before, I’m glad you agreed to come with me.” You said, taking his hand as you led him through the field, a small patch of sun and colourful nature in the midst of the Forbidden Forest. Ominis nodded, following you as he felt another breeze blow through, the sweet scent of flowers filling his senses. “I do have a question, though, if you will.” He said, frowning slightly as he turned his gaze to you. “Of course, go right ahead.” You replied, stopping as you turned to Ominis. “How did you find this place? It was quite the walk to get here, even with Floo Powder. Where are we, exactly?” You smiled sheepishly as you looked down at the grass, unsure how to explain how you ended up in a field of flowers.

“Well, I guess you could say we’re in the Forbidden Forest.” “Forbidden Forest? Why are we in the Dark Woods? And what were you doing here in the first place?” You fiddled with your fingers, looking around you as you tried to think. “I was in The Three Broomsticks, when one of the patrons called me over. They talked about how they saw butterflies around here once, when she was a student. She wanted to know where they led and asked if I would be able to find out for her.” Ominis sighed as he shook his head lightly. “So, a woman asked you to follow butterflies, into the woods that she was too scared to go into, and you did?” You nodded, frowning. “It was something to do, I suppose. And it worked out well in the end. They led me to a random chest, so I figured I would continue to follow them again next time I saw them.” And you did; following the cluster of butterflies had become a game of hide and seek, and you had enjoyed the things you had found each time. “So, I followed them a bit ago, and they led me here. There was nothing of value really, not even a bag of coins. But this place is filled with amazing flowers, and the grass is actually green instead of the dark scale in the woods. I think it’s beautiful.” You said, taking a seat in the soft grass.

You patted Ominis’ leg as looked down, taking his hand to have him sit next to you. Ominis looked at you, puzzled. “Why did you bring me here, then?” He asked, hearing leaves rustle as the breeze came through again, the blades of grass tickling his hand. He turned his head to his side, dropping his hand to run it through the soft grass with a small smile. You smiled as you watched him, forgetting for a moment that he had asked you a question. “Y/n? Did you hear me?” He asked, turning to you again with furrowed brows. Your eyes widened slightly as you nodded quickly. “Yes! Well, I figured you’d enjoy it. I have a bunch of the flowers memorized now, so I could have talked about them to you at the castle, but I wanted you to be here in this space.” You explained, your cheeks heating up slightly as you turned away, picking a flower and examining it. “This space? It feels undisturbed, as if no one has found it yet.” Ominis said, finding a collection of Daffodils and feeling the soft yellow petals, or perhaps this was a collection of white ones? “It’s pretty deep into the forest, so it should be safe to assume that no one has found it. Just us, for the time being.” You smiled, reaching over him as you took one of the daffodils, smiling as you dropped it onto his lap. “Those are huge, the daffodils. They’re the white ones with the orange center, not like the yellow ones that honk at you when you pass by.” Ominis smiled as he picked up the flower, its strong stalk bending slightly as he tilted it towards you. “This place is nice. I’m glad you thought to bring me here with you.”

The two of you continued to relax in the meadow; Ominis sat happily as you would run off for a moment and come back with another flower, placing it in his hands as you gushed about its colour. Ominis didn’t know what you were doing with the flowers afterwards, but you never gave him time to ask when you returned again with a new flower. “Ominis!” You shouted happily, causing him to jump slightly. He turned his head towards you, leaning back slightly when you came up behind him. “What is it? Did you find something?” He asked, smiling as he felt your hand graze his face as you stood over him. “I did! There’s a small patch of flowers near the edge of the field that I hadn’t looked at! Oh, they’re amazing, Ominis!” You said, taking a seat next to him as you crossed your legs, holding the new flower in your hands gently as you gazed at it. “It’s a Parnassus! This one in particular is one is the Grass of Parnassus.” You said, smiling as you placed it into his hands. Ominis felt the soft petals, furrowing his brows as he registered the name. “Grass of Parnassus? What kind of name is that?” He asked, frowning as he twirled the small flower between his fingers. You chuckled, looking at the flower as it spun, forming a shape that resembled the twinkle of a star. “It lives in batches of grass, usually near water, but I didn’t see any nearby. The flower itself doesn’t look like grass.” You smiled, chuckling to yourself.

“It certainly doesn’t feel like grass. But it has a nice shape” Ominis said, trailing a finger over the flower. “What are these patches of things in it? Is that where the pollen is?” You nodded, grabbing his hand, and moving his finger to where one of the many antennae sat, the soft yellow powder brushing off onto his finger. “There’s five of them, each with at least seven smaller bundles of yellow things. I’m not sure why they need so many, but it looks cute.” Ominis nodded, his cheeks slightly warm as you stayed close, taking his finger to move over the flower itself. “It looks like a star, and it’s white with what kind of looks like veins on each petal.” “Veins? Why would a flower have veins?” You chuckled as you shook your head. “I don’t think they work like actual veins; it’s just how they grow. It also has a bulb in its center, not sure what it does, if I’m to be honest.” You watched as Ominis continued to mess with the flower, smiling as he furrowed his brows when he traced the surface of the flower again, taking in the details that you described to him. You sighed, looking around the area as bundles of wildflower swayed gently, stretching your arms. “There are plenty of flowers here that I haven’t shown you, if you’d like another.” Ominis turned to you, head tilted slightly as he held the flower gently. “Only if you want, I’m rather contempt with the flowers you have brought me, but I wait eagerly for your next find.” He said, smiling as he listened to you whisper a small “yes!”

As you went off in search of another flower, Ominis sat alone, feeling the warm rays of the sun kiss his skin as his heart began to beat faster. He kept the Parnassus in his hand as he felt a small smile grace his lips, his chest tightening with each beat from his heart. He appreciated you; everything you did for him was sweet. You had found a random untouched meadow and thought to bring him with you to explore it. You took the time to hand pick what you thought was the perfect flower for him, describing them to him each time without fail. When did you start doing that? Ominis thought, feeling his cheeks heat up. He heard your voice call to him once again, announcing that you had found another flower. He turned his head in your direction, his eyes widening as he felt a wave of nervousness wash over him as he visualized your smile, feeling as if he had just discovered what love was.

You reach him and smile, holding a soft bundle of purple Heather in your hand. You stood there beside Ominis as he gazed up at you, confused as you watched him try to stand. “I brought you some Heather, they smell really nice!” You said, handing them over as Ominis straightened his back as he continued to hold the other flower. “Y/n, why do you do this for me?” He asked, taking the Heather from you and gently letting it rest in his palm. You furrowed your brows as you frowned slightly, confused. “What do you mean?” “You didn’t have to bring me here or tell me about flowers. But you did, why?” You looked down at the grass, watching as it darkened in his shadow. “Because you deserve it, of course.” You said, smiling as you glanced up. Ominis felt his cheeks heat up more as he bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m sure you would have an easier time showing this to anyone else, you don’t have to waste your breath describing flowers to me.” He said softly, playing with the flowers in his hand. You shook your head as you scoffed, reaching to take the Parnassus from his hand. “I want you to know what’s around you. You should know how the world around you looks, even if I must describe everything around you.” “You don’t have to.” “I want to be your eyes, besides, no one else would willingly want to follow me to a flower patch like you did.” You chuckled, placing the flower into the pocket of his robe.

Ominis took your hand into his as soon as you let go of the flower, his gaze to the ground as he spoke quietly. “You wish to be my eyes.” You nodded, gently squeezing his hand. Ominis stayed silent for a moment, pondering what to say next. “Would you tell me, then. What do you see when you look at me?” Your smile grew as you gazed at his face, his cheeks becoming pinker as you watched. “I see a work of art. Like flowers, or the night sky; I can’t help but wonder what artist was able to envision a being as beautiful as you.” You spoke gently, feeling your hand squeezed as his eyes widened. “You speak as if you have already thought about it.” “I have. You don’t give yourself enough credit, you know.” “One would think that there was love in those words, with the way you said them.” He said, a small smile gracing his lips. You nodded, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you smiled softly. “One would think.” Ominis stood frozen, his heart beating rapidly as he spoke. “My love is yours, if you’re willing to take it.”

Your smile grew as you kissed his cheek, slowly wrapping an arm around his center, still keeping hold of his hand. “And my hand is yours to hold, even if you have nowhere to go.” You said softly, placing another kiss on his face. Ominis smiled as he wrapped his free arm around you, the Heather still held between his fingers. You smiled as you glanced at the purple flowers beside you, finally connecting your lips with his. He smiled into the kiss, his soft lips moving in sync with your own as you chuckled slightly. As you pulled away, you couldn’t stop yourself from planting a small kiss to his nose, watching as his eyes widened in surprise. “I promise to plant kisses like seeds to your being, so that one day you will grow to love yourself as I love you.” You said, breathing in the breeze, smiling as it picked up the flowers you had picked for Ominis and scattering them around you. Ominis chuckled as he held you tighter, whispering into your ear. “You’ll have to do a lot of kissing then, just to combat the love I have for you.”

#ominis gaunt imagine #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x reader #ominis gaunt #ominis x you #ominis gaunt fluff #hogwarts legacy fluff #hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts legacy

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bonesandpoemsandflowers · 5 months

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I am not any less sad about the dog. I have merely discovered, over the past few months, that even fewer people than I expected understand. He was not just some animal I loved--and I say this as someone with a great love and respect for animals and the bonds we form. The bond we have with dogs is different on a species level. The co-evolution is unique to the point that dogs do gaze recognition just like we do: they read human faces in the same order humans read human faces. They understand pointing innately, as no other mammal does--chimps included. And on and on and on...

And yet it's also true that Ernesto was not just some dog, and not just my dog. He was eerily and irritatingly intelligent, which is why I couldn't have him watched by just any one. I was in more of a dialogue with that dog than many people are with their human spouses. I showed him things in my hands, offered them for a sniff. He would stop on walks after sniffing something particularly interesting, and then look back at me, offering me a moment to check out what he'd found. I would lean over and look, and only then would he move on. We did not always understand each other but also: he had those talking buttons towards the end of his life, and he used them. So I do also literally mean that this dog and I talked. We spoke. With words.

Were his favorite words "food" and "no" and "now"? Sure. But frankly, are my favorite words that far off? Are yours, if you really think about it?

Part of my frustration is my usual frustration. People write about dogs as silly and ever cheerful and I find this to be a disgustingly shallow and simplified view of dogs, actually. I do not find it heartwarming in the least. A poet writing about the ever happy nature of all dogs does not strike me as insightful. They strike me as stupid about dog behavior. They strike me as a poor ethologist with only rudimentary capacity for theory of mind at best.

People talk about dogs as harmless, as stupid little not quite people who live artlessly in their homes.

Dogs on the whole are far more complex than you think.

But it's also--oh, all my life I've been head over heels for the working breeds, the hunting dogs. Big dangerous intelligent dogs, bred for their capacity to make snap second decisions independently because you, the human, cannot possibly shout out precise commands fast enough to pin down a wild boar. You and the dog work together, but for some parts of the hunt? That dog is fucking freelancing, baby. That dog is improvising. Or take the livestock guardian dog--you're not instructing him on anti-coyote tactics. When the predators show up late at night, it is all up to that dog to figure out how to play it.

They're smart. They have opinions. Ernie was just also really invested in conveying his opinions about things. And the talking buttons aren't just about the talking buttons; the talking buttons allow you to confirm, with words, the translations of nonverbal cues. He was thrilled when he got a button for "no"! But he also didn't need a button for "no" because he said "no" very clearly with a disdainful scoff/sneeze/chuff. And I know this because when he had the button and I would ask him to do something he did not want to do, he would go: scoff/sneeze *button mash: "NO"* scoff/sneeze.

(translation: NO. no. also: no.)

But all of that aside, all that extra connection and tenderness you get from communicating in your own native tongue, and knowing this little being is making the effort to communicate with you in the way you want and understand

(even though he thinks it's stupid and he often sneezes disdainfully at the buttons before deigning to use them)

(I cannot confirm this but there was a look he gave me sometimes that I would swear meant something like: "I know that you know what I mean, and you don't need me to use the buttons but I will do it to make you happy. But it's stupid." lingering eye contact, defiant posture, more intense eye contact, eventual punchy button usage)

But ALL OF THAT ASIDE, all of it.

When most people say "my pet saved my life," they mean something heart warming and emotional and that's nice and important. I'm not knocking that.

But when I say it

What I mean

Is that more than once this dog put his life on the line for mine. At least once, I absolutely would have died. I had no answer for the size of the physical threat upon us. And the other two times I can clearly think of--my odds weren't great. Sans dogs, my odds were, like. Bad. Pretty shit, actually.

So did that dog have a bite history? Technically, yes. Did he ever get in trouble for it? No, because ultimately he had flawless target selection and he understood when someone--dog or man--truly meant me significant physical harm.

So here's what it is, right. Here. Listen.

That dog saved my life. More than once. Very literally. I mean in a flesh and blood way, an immediate way, a non-metaphorical way.

He could save me and so he did, more than once.

And ultimately, when he needed it, I could not do the same. I could not save him from lung cancer. And yes, he was 13, only 3 months away from 14. And he was a big dog, and they mostly don't live too long. Sure, sure, sure.

But the point is he handed my life back to me. And I couldn't do that for him. You know? Not all the love and worry and time and money and care I put into it made the difference. The surgery prolonged his life by a few months and his quality of life was much better for it. The chemo did nothing but at least it didn't hurt him.

I tried. Yes.

But Ernie Dog, when he tried for me, succeeded.

And I don't know how to explain the debt of that to people. I think it's too uncomfortable for people to think about so they rush to platitudes. "You did your best!" Sure. And it wasn't enough. "You did more than most anyone would!" Yes, but most people suck. Even the people who have the money often suck. No shade to those who don't. "He was loved!" Obviously. And he loved me. Thus why he saved my life. And I couldn't save his. Exactly. That's my point.

So there's nothing to do with that but live with it, and no medicine for me now besides time.

But fuck. So few people get it. And I get that there's a limit to how long people will listen to you about your dearly departed dog. But mostly I don't want to talk about it because almost nobody understands. Do you know what it is to have someone prove they would die for you? I do. It's a horrible debt even when a human does it.

It's even worse when it's a dog.

#dogs #everybody's got #that One Dog #y'know?#text post

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preciouslittletoonette · 1 year

Text

Overworked Mascots (Mickey Mouse x Bugs Bunny)

I do not own any of these characters that appear here. They all belong to their respective studios. Enjoy!

This is inspired by the lovely art of one @thesunpapaya (sorry if you don't like being tagged, I remembered you saying you'd read fics from this ship so I figured it'd be safe to tag you). Particularly this piece and these pieces.

Get ready

Eat, Rehearse, Film, Press Conference, Film, Eat, Sleep.

Mickey was so tired.

Eat, Rehearse, Film, Press Conference, Film, Eat, Sleep

Yet tired didn't feel like the right word.

Go to this gala, go to that event, film some more, sleep.

But a weight unlike any other pulled him down.

Go out for lunch date with Minnie for the press. Film. Go to Dinner date with Minnie. Don't let people know something is wrong. Sleep. But not with her, to maintain your image. For the children, Mickey.

"Mickey Mouse! Is it true you and Minnie are broken up?! Any words regarding the rumors of Minnie Mouse's affair with her costar Daisy Duck?!"

"Haha! I don't know where this is all coming from. Minnie and Daisy are just swell pals. And me and Min are as right as rain. Happier than ever" Not.

Eat, Rehearse, Film, Meetings, Film, Eat, Sleep.

He took a long puff from the cigar between his finger tips, letting the smoke choke him before releasing it with a slow blow. He licked his lips to rid the dryness he felt on them.

Remember you're Mickey Mouse.

There wasn't a day in his life where he didn't forget it. Everyone made sure to remind him.

Remember we own you.

There wasn't a day in his life where he didn't wish he was elsewhere.

Keep up appearances. Stick to the script.

Don't ruin the magic, Mickey.

The magic for him had been ruined a long time ago.

"Are they gone?", Mickey asked tiredly. His ears could still make out the yelling outside but it got fainter and fainter.

The human in the room with him squeaked as he acknowledged him. A rather mousey (hehe) young man Mickey had taken a liking to and hired to be his P.A. The practical boy was efficient and quick, much more so than his previous personal assistant. Sure, the young man had to be quickly trained in the ins and outs of toons but he caught on quick, something Mickey liked. And the best part:

The boy took Mickey's secrets and kept it like they were his very own. Mickey appreciated that.

The young man peeked out and addressed one of the guards outside. There was some talk Mickey wasn't in the mood to listen into before his assistant came back in.

"They got rid of most of the paparazzi. There might still be some stragglers but most of them will be outside of the building. Security is keeping an eye on all entrances. Only toons, residents and employees are allowed into the building and onto this floor", his assistant informed him.

Mickey nodded," Thank you, Connor. You're an angel", he said with a small smile.

Connor beamed," It's a pleasure, Mr Mouse", he said happily before his eyes went down to the empty scotch glass on the table next to Mickey," Would you like a refill?".

"Please", Mickey said holding up the glass for Connor to take," Dad knows I need it before Iger comes to scream at me again for my sloppy performance".

"The performance wasn't that bad-"

"I forgot several lines and had to ad-lib my way to a line I do remember. I even hesitated a few times"

"Actors improvise all the time!"

"Not. Disney toon actors", Mickey grumbled," We have to stick to the script. Stay within the line. Conform. Or else", he said. It was almost like a mantra at this point, something that had to be ingrained into Mickey's head as if he had been forced to write it on a chalk board 100 000 times.

Don't ruin the magic, Mickey.

Connor sighed," Bullshit, its all bullshit", he mumbled as he flipped through Mickey's schedule.

It truly was. And it was the reality of Mickey's life.

"So what's next on today's agenda?", Mickey asked, sitting up a little and trying (and failing quite frankly) to appear his normal, happy self (if his normal happy self had a cigar in one hand and a glass of scotch on the other).

"You're expected back at Disneyland for the nighttime parade. Photos will be taken. Iger asks you be a little bit more affectionate with Minnie this time as visitors noted you were a little distant your last appearance. Again, nothing spicy. You made a lot of parents uncomfortable with that kiss you pulled a few months ago, the memory is still fresh", Connor said, walking up and down as he gave Mickey the run down on what needed to happen.

"Be affectionate but don't be affectionate. Got it", Mickey said as he downed his glass of scotch in one go.

"Still so freaky you can just... swallow all that and not even get the least bit tipsy", Connor said looking mildly intrigued.

"Eh, toons have made stronger stuff in the past and lived", Mickey said as he set the glass down," Anything else?"

"That's about it. You're free for the time being, like 3-ish hours", Connor said," If you'd like, I can have an impromptu meal arranged for you and Mrs Mouse in a public place for the time being. Mr Iger requests you spend more time together".

Mickey held up a hand and shook his head," No, no. I'd... I'd rather not meet with Minnie today. She's got her own stress to deal with", he said.

"Of course, Mr Mouse"

Mickey sighed. The end of his cigar came and he put the last butt of it out before grabbing another. If there was one thing Mickey had in common with his dad, it was the awful smoking habits. But smoking took his mind off things. Things that would otherwise stress him out.

Like the situation between him and Minnie. The less he thought about the situation between him and Minnie, the better his mood will be.

"Connor, be a dear. Fill up, would you?", Mickey asked politely and his PA followed his request with little complaint.

"At least, now you'll get a tiny break from it all", Connor piped up. The young human paused as something in his ear piece went off," Excuse me, sir. There's something I need to check on".

Mickey waved him off and continued his smoking and drinking, deep in thought with a foul expression on his face. He leaned back into his chair and took a long drag of his cigar, wondering how his life had come to this.

He was meant to be perfect. Practically in every way. The Ideal Toon. The one all Disney toons are encouraged to follow. The board spent many, many years, even dating back to when his Dad was still alive, crafting this image of his. This child (or rather: stern parent) friendly image that was more shallow than a dried up puddle in the summer. It had worked for the most part. Most folks assumed Mickey was devoid of personality, a puppet of Disney. Just The Mascot.

"I've been scrubbed clean, now left in pain with my skin so raw from this abuse."

This scandal was very close to that image cracking. Extremely close. So close in fact, he had gotten screamed at by several people. Including Bob Iger, who he knows is ready to tear into him again in person eventually once the paparazzi cleared somewhat. Adding in his disaster of a performance during a live show, Mickey would bet Iger would be screaming at him for a straight hour.

Mickey would let him. Because Mickey was so tired. Too tired to fight.

He heard the door of his study open and Connor stepped back inside again.

"Sir- Mr. Mouse?"

"What is it, Connor? I'd rather be alone for a moment-"

"You have a visitor, Mr Mouse…", Connor said.

Mickey's eyes met the doorway and he finds what he thought to be the most beautiful toon in all the Animation Industries standing there, gazing at him with an almost demure smile. Mickey's tired eyes met theirs and it seemed like he was in a trance. His face grew warm at the sight of the white, figure hugging dressed that showed off an hourglass figure. His eyes wandered to the ruby red lips and he swallowed the lump in his throat. On his finger, his wedding ring burned him.

"I sincerely hope I'm not intruding, Mr Mouse", the toon said demurely.

It took all of Mickey's acting skill to school his face and make sure he didn't "wolf out" for lack of better words in front of his personal assistant who was still there watching.

"Of course not", Mickey said in faux calmness, "Do come in, ma'am. Connor, can you leave us for a moment?".

Connor did as he was told, but not without his eyes flickering between Mickey and the toon with the same energy as a nosy neighbour finding out something scandalous.

Mickey swore his personal assistant will be the death of him…

…If this gorgeous piece of art before him didn't kill him first.

The toon in question sauntered towards him, hips swaying in ways that were borderline provocative (Mickey could hear the Censor monkeys at Disney screaming). They didn't immediately reach him however, instead taking a turn to take from the nearby bourbon and pour themselves a pint.

Mickey stared, trying to find his voice under the collection of saliva no doubt building up in his mouth. Eventually, he found it.

"Were you waiting long?", he asked quietly, not wanting to break the intense air that surrounded them. He felt warmer than usual.

An airy chuckle fluttered through the atmosphere of Mickey's study.

"Oh, don't you worry too much about that, honey. I kept my li'l head occupied just fine", the toon said. Their accent was clearly forced in a toon way, accurate but still clear it wasn't their natural voice. They smiled at him a beautiful buck-toothed smile.

"You didn't have trouble getting in?", Mickey asked.

"Cute fella got me in through the side door"

Mickey sighed, leaning back into his seat again with closed eyes. He felt the emotional exhaustion of the day catch up with him and he tried to relax. His ears perked up hearing footsteps, assuming the toon was about to take a seat nearby. Only to feel the weight of a body come sit on his lap. His eyes flew open.

Oh gosh

"Hope you don't mind if I take a seat here. You looked very comfortable", the toon cooed, buck teeth disappearing as their mouth made a perfect 'o' shape.

Mickey's heart raced and was about ready to run out of his chest. His body grew hotter.

He felt the white fur shawl pull over him and bring him closer. As he got closer, he could the sweet, fruity perfume his cigar smoke had been hiding. A gloved hand came to caress his cheek with uncharacteristic tenderness.

" You look tired, doc"

Mickey's breath hitched as he felt furry lips brush against his cheek. Whiskers tickled him.

"Bugs…", he whined.

"Mickey", the bunny in question chuckled as he teased the mouse he had trapped under him.

Mickey swallowed the building drool his mouth had accumulated.

"I have somewhere to be in 3 hours", Mickey warned as Bugs leaned into him.

"Is that so?", by that tone, Mickey could tell Bugs was not taking that warning seriously," What if you were just a wee, tad bit… late?", he said, tugging on the Mouse's tie.

For a moment, Mickey entertained the idea.

"As much as I want to… I'm in hot water enough as is today", Mickey murmured. He put his dead cigar in the ashtray.

"Should I leave then?", Bugs asked, moving to get up, but stopped when he felt Mickey's arms snake around him and keep him in place.

"Stay", it was as much a demand as it was a plead.

Bugs grinned and made himself comfortable again. As he did that, Mickey hid his face in Bugs' neck, inhaling that sweet perfume.

"This perfume… with this dress. Are you trying to kill me", Mickey whined, causing Bugs to snicker.

"Depends. Do I get a portion of your money in the will?", Bugs asked cheekily.

"No"

"Aw", Bugs pouted as he took his glass of bourbon and had a sip," And here I was hoping I was going to get something special".

"The only special thing you're gonna get if Disney finds out you're in my will is an investigation", Mickey grumbled as he tugged Bugs closer.

"Ah yes. I'm sure Mr. Iger would be very amused by those pictures you have of me", Bugs teased.

Mickey groaned," Ugh, don't bring him up…", if he could, he'd hide in Bugs' neck for the rest of eternity.

Mickey couldn't see it, but Bugs' face grew the slightest bit soft and sympathetic.

"Rougher day today?", Bugs probed.

"Yeah…", Mickey muttered.

Bugs hummed and shifted his position to comfortably lay against Mickey. This did involve Mickey moving his head away from Bugs' neck so Bugs could sink a little lower. Their faces came quite close together as a result.

Mickey gazed at Bugs and moved his hand to cup the furry cheek of his rabbit lover, stroking the soft white fur of his muzzle. He could feel Bugs stiffen for a moment under his touch before relaxing.

"Why’d you get all dolled up today?", Mickey asked.

"Can't a rabbit try to look pretty once in a while", Bugs wrly replied.

"You always look pretty. You're the prettiest toon I know", Mickey said earnestly.

Mickey could tell for the tiniest millisecond, Bugs was stumped. But that quickly fell as Bugs grinned at him, lashes fluttering flirtatiously.

"Am I as funny as I am pretty?", he asked jokingly.

"Twice as", Mickey responded with a grin.

"Do I make you laugh?", Bugs asked, pulling on Mickey's tie and leaning in.

Mickey gave him a small peck on the cheek," You knock my socks right off, doll", he said sweetly as he reached for his glass, having not drank a drop since Bugs entered.

Bugs subtly preened under the compliment and Mickey smiled fondly behind his glass.

"That still doesn't answer my question though", Mickey continued.

"What if… I don't want to answer it", Bugs replied.

Mickey hummed, his thumb brushing over the area under Bugs' eye, feeling that area felt a little off. Like it was more freshly painted. To hide something.

"Rougher day, today?", Mickey inquired softly, repeating the question Bugs had asked him earlier.

It was a quick shift of his gaze and the way Bugs started subconsciously biting the glass that clued Mickey in on his mental state.

Bugs Bunny was not great with feelings. Mickey spent years learning all of his tics so that he didn’t neglect the rabbit's feelings. Mickey won't lie, it was hard as Bugs was an incredible actor (almost to his detriment), but learning what all the little movements and nervous tics meant was entirely worth it to Mickey if it meant this radiant rabbit found it worth it to stick around a little longer.

That's why Mickey didn't speak much further on that. Instead, he pulled from his vest pocket a pack of cigarettes, slipping one put for Bugs to take. Bugs slowly took it and placed it in his mouth. Mickey provided a lighter as well and held it to Bugs' cigarette.

This action evoked a memory in Mickey. Something that happened years ago, but that Mickey could remember like it was yesterday.

It was one of those film parties that got held after a successful movie. Who framed Roger Rabbit had been a massive success and the entire cast had been invited.

Mickey sat on the rooftop, that night, feeling like absolute dirt despite the happy festivities. A cigarette hung loosely on his lips as he stared out at the lights of city.

One moment, he was alone. The next he had his temporary co-star next to him. Bugs Bunny, looking right as rain to the unaware populace.

Mickey had offered Bugs a cigarette on the promise he told no one about Mickey's awful habit. Bugs laughed, agreed to it and took the cigarette.

Mickey watched for a few rather pitiful seconds as Bugs struggled to get his lighter to work before showing mercy and lighting his own lighter, hovering it within Bugs' gaze with the silent offer of lighting it for him.

The action made Bugs pause long enough for Mickey to notice the hesitation. But he didn't have time to dwell on that as Bugs placed the cig near the lighter.

"What a gentleman", Bugs cooed before giving Mickey one of those zany kisses crazier toons did before running away.

The action stumped Mickey so much he almost dropped his cigarette. His expression must have been funny, because Bugs started to laugh. And really laugh.

Given that those sort of kisses never had any meaning behind them, Mickey should've just forgotten about it and moved on. But he didn't, the kiss and Bugs' charming, captivating laugh stayed with him that entire night.

They talked more. Mickey tried his damndest to be normal in front of the Looney hare but it was getting hard with every laugh he miraculously managed to pull from Bugs.

At some point, they were playing a strange game of keep away. Bugs had snatched the last cigarette Mickey had wanted and played a game out of it. Mickey had to get it back from him.

One thing led to another. A push, a body hitting the wall. Mickey trying his hardest to keep Bugs from escaping. A small, innocuous slip. Mickey falling into Bugs by accident. Their lips meeting in a tremendous smash.

Neither of them moved for a sharp minute before Mickey finally willed his body to move. Apologies came out like rapid fire from Mickey who fervently checked if Bugs was okay and continuously apologised for his large overstep of a boundary. Bugs himself was quiet as he watched Mickey rapidly apologise, his body frozen against the wall.

When Mickey tried to leave, he felt a trembling hand on his back keep him in place. His eyes widened, looking up at Bugs in the darkness. You could just barely make out the dark blush on Bugs' face.

"Stay", it was as much a demand… as it was a plead. But Bugs still removed his hand from Mickey's back, giving the mouse the option to run away and not look back. The option to forget.

Mickey stayed.

Both of them moved in tandem for the first real kiss. And the second kiss, the third kiss and the kiss after that and the many other kisses after that. The moment they truly separated was when Bugs heard someone approaching the roof. Mickey looked at their dishevelled, almost undressed states, frozen and worried about being caught. Had Bugs not picked him up and hid, they would have surely been caught.

And perhaps, that was what made that situation all the more enticing. The adrenaline of almost being caught. The danger of it all. The kiss after that had occurred was one of relief but also of one with the prime knowledge that if they were ever caught, they would be done for.

That seemed to be all the encouragement both of them, a sad pair of disgruntled, overworked mascots, needed to pursue this further.

"Penny for your thoughts, doc", Bugs inquired, flipping a penny in Mickey's direction, that the mouse flawlessly caught as he was brought back to the present.

"Just thinking on some old memories", Mickey said softly," About that night", he elaborated.

"Ah", was all Bugs said.

Mickey gazed at Bugs. Bugs gazed back. Mickey gently took Bugs' free hand and left a kiss on it.

"I know I said earlier that you look pretty everyday- that wasn't a lie, but golly, you look really stunning today, doll", Mickey murmured softly as he laced their fingers together.

Bugs chuckled, his white fur turning the slightest bit pink at the compliment.

"Well, I do remember you saying this was your favourite dress of mine. Thought you'd love to see it again", Bugs explained coyly," Tell me, who do you think wore this style better. Who do you like it more on. Me, Marilyn or Madonna?"

Mickey chuckled," You wore it better, of course", he answered sincerely. He leaned down and murmured in Bugs' ear," Though, being honest, I always liked it best on my bedroom floor".

Mickey pulled back and watched with amusement at the flustered steam leaving Bugs' ears before the rabbit burst out laughing. He sighed, absolutely besotted with Bugs and his charming laugh that never failed to captivate him. Mickey spied a little floating heart popping close to his head.

"The Censor monkeys are gonna have your hide for that, Mick", Bugs cackled.

"So long as I got you to laugh", Mickey said grinning.

Bugs chuckled as he cupped Mickey's face.

Mickey relaxed at Bugs' touch, leaning in until their noses touched.

"I wish I didn't have places to be", Mickey murmured," I wish I didn't have all this work I need to".

"Same here….", Bugs whispered as he wrapped his arms around Mickey's neck.

But they were both there right now. And they'll take that little spark they needed to keep going.

Their lips met in what began as a soft kiss that dived into something more desperate, passionate and deep. Time was less of a worry when you were with someone who made you feel like the world stopped and you were the only other there. Track of time was lost. So later, the knock on the door felt like a bitter awakening from a good dream.

"Mr. Mouse?", the door handled jiggled.

"Wait outside, Connor!", Mickey squeaked as he thought of his half-dressed state. .

"Mr. Mouse, the car is here", Connor announced through the door.

Mickey inwardly cursed and sighed. He felt hands squeeze his arms and he looked down at Bugs who gave him a tight smile.

"I don't want to go", Mickey murmured.

"I don't want you to go", Bugs whispered back.

But as mascots, the wants of their owners always came before their own. Mickey had to leave.

"Will you still be here when I get back?", Mickey asked, a little frightened of Bugs' answer.

"I'll stay so long as you come back", Bugs said earnestly, giving Mickey a peck on the cheek before getting off of him.

Mickey smiled softly, grabbing Bugs' hand to leave a kiss on it before making himself presentable.

"As handsome as ever", Bugs quipped as Mickey finished checking and tidying himself.

Mickey chuckled at the quip, turning to Bugs with a short wink as he walked towards the door.

"Wish me luck", Mickey said cheerfully.

Bugs looked outside at the late afternoon sky," Oh Evening Star above, I wish this maroon some luck", he drawled.

Mickey laughed at the little joke.

"Thanks Bugs. I'll see you later" I love you.

Mickey never openly said those three special words before. Neither has Bugs. Though, always unsaid, the two just had an instinctive feeling they knew what their true feelings for the other were.

"See you later, Mick", Bugs said before Mickey left his study.

Mickey sighed, already missing Bugs' warmth as he walked towards the building's elevator where Connor dutifully stood.

"Ready to go, boss man?", Connor questioned.

"Yeah, let's get this over with", Mickey muttered as the elevator doors closed and began it's descent downwards.

Mickey was not looking forward to what was sure to be another dull parade of him standing and waving. But he found solace in that he'll have someone special waiting for him to arrive home.

And Mickey yearned for the day where he could finally have that sort of thing every day. With no worries for either of them.

Until then, he's willing to endure being Disney's well-behaved mascot just a little while longer.

#overworked mascots #both the fic title and the ship name hehe #mickey mouse #bugs bunny #writing #precious' writing #please do not perceive me #or do... idk #might do more who knows this ship drives me nuts #looney tunes

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