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kithtaehyung · 1 year

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mami (m) | myg/knj

title: mami (m) pairing: myg x reader(f) , knj x reader(f) , slight jhs x reader(f)😛 rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; battle rap au , roommates au summary: you somehow have a conversation with yoongi, and you tell your roommate about a date date. note: heavy 00s vibes, this is just the beginning of a collection of parts instead of just a oneshot let’s fucking goooo🦋 note 2: this is pretty unedited lolll if there are mistakes i'm so so sorry! warnings for this part: language, choking, joon in sweats, bathroom s*x, b*ckshots, friendly sp*nks from your roomie🤪, it uhhh starts right out the gate lmfao, hobi in silk and a robe, yoongi is a warning in his own right, light sl*pping, you get called mamiii😗 so if that’s not ur thing i’d skip this series !!, joon is too smooth, a secret fourth guy lmfaoooo, battle rap scenarios! drop date: september 26th, 2023, 10:07pm est word count: 3.7k mood: here

“You like that, huh?”

Breath short, you can only gasp as the hands you’ve been eyeing all night clutch your throat, a fiendish hum the first response to your satisfied grin.

“Knew you would.” As your delicious captor speaks, you just know he’s fixated on your makeup—at least, the way it’s smearing onto a bathroom mirror that has seen better days. “You all do.”

Fuck, he knows what he’s doing. Fucking hell, he always knows.

Your lust condenses and slides down the glass in rivers, and with each experienced thrust inside your folds, it’s getting harder, and harder, and harder to see the man wrecking your shit.

But it’s coming. The end. The coil inside you is screaming and tightening and you know he can feel every potent pulse as you slap the tiny counter with a palm. “Yoongi—”

“You gonna come, mami?”

Yes yes yes you really fucking are. It’s so truthful that you can’t even voice your agreement in words, your moans higher and higher in pitch the only tell you can possibly give.

“Then fucking do it.”

Light bounces from your eyes and rebounds off the mirror the same time your whine does, every limb locking while bare shoulders bang against your reflection.

“Fuck.”

You spring right into the ground floor above, eyes rolling so far back you could probably see the way Yoongi’s smirking at your ass if your dumbfounded mush of a brain wasn’t in the way.

Again, and again, you milk his cock for all it’s worth, spurning him into gripping your bouncing hips with rough hands and faster strokes. Laughs and conversations seep through the door at your side, but you can’t make out a thing as you garble,

“Yoongi, please—”

“One more.”

“I can’t—”

“Don’t play dumb,” he tuts. “You won’t hustle me a second time.”

Busted.

Your pout quickly stretches into a devilish curve instead, and you hear his sound of approval before you brag,

“I spent all that already, by the way.”

Air whizzes past your ears as you’re hoisted upwards, and your mirth reverberates as you’re spun and shoved into the sink, cheap laminate bruising your back.

Yoongi must also be remembering the time your pussy sucked the soul out of him. After you both made a bet that you couldn’t beat someone’s record time making him come.

You won half of his prize money that night.

And that was the night he won the entire thing.

“You’re lucky I respect it,” he snarls, sweaty fingers gripping your chin as he slings a leg over his pelvis. When he grins, you wanna lick the white off his teeth. “And you’re lucky I made it back the next night.”

Oh, shit. Did he really?

Battle rap events usually stack so that everyone gets a chance. How did he get invited back the same weekend?

Well, other than being a monster on the mic. There’s a reason you can’t stay away from him, and you may or may not admit you get turned on by how effortlessly ruthless he is.

Lips smushed, you ask with genuine curiosity, “You won again?”

Yoongi lightly smacks your cheek, chuckling when you grit out a moan. “Nah. The sponsors loved me,” he claims, finally bringing a hand down to guide himself back inside. “So they paid me to come back.”

“Sick,” you praise through a grunt, fully catching his eyes for the first time tonight. Pushing past the way he fills you so fantastically, you huff out, “That doesn’t happen on south side.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, apparently west and east side do it a lot. Especially with that guy Randa—”

“Fuck Randa.”

Ah, so Yoongi knows him? You haven’t ventured into the west scene yet, but the one thing you know about it is that dude’s name.

So he must be a beast.

Especially if Gloss himself had some choice words.

At this little slip of emotion, you don’t hide your smirk at all. “Oh? Maybe I will if that’s how you feel.”

The sudden possessive shove of his cock into your folds is delightful, your high giggle pinging off the bathroom walls.

“Fuck whoever you want, princess,” he chides right against your lips. “You’ll always come back to me.”

“Duh.” You flick your tongue over his plush. “You wouldn’t last a week without me anyway.”

Yoongi pushes into you again, stare heavy and coaxing butterflies from your belly. “I’d manage.”

“As if.”

But even through the pleasure, you still wonder. How are you both having a regular conversation right now? This never happens with him. You’ve wanted it to, but there simply hasn’t been any talk when he’s involved.

The high from your orgasm compounds with this strange feeling that you turn a little playful.

“What I meant was…” Fingernail poking his tank, you joke with a sly curve, “Guess you must be like, good or whatever.”

When he looks down, you childishly swoop your finger up to bump his nose. “Ha. Loser.”

Predictably, Yoongi pauses before only his eyes raise, suppressed emotions hiding behind long dark strands. “Really.”

And even though you felt him twitch in your core, you’ll spare him. “I don’t make the rules.”

You think this is when he’ll start ramming into you again, because none of the times you’ve hooked up ever lasted this long. It’s always been quick with him, and never in any other place other than bathrooms or broom closets.

Which isn’t bad. Just a pattern you’ve noticed.

But Yoongi huffs in amusement before shaking his head. “Since when were you this weird?”

“Wow, rude?” Your scoff is full of mock annoyance. “I’ve always been this way.”

It’s just that no one’s taken the time to get to know you.

“But you’re so…”

All they care about is one thing.

Which, granted, is the same in your case.

It just gets a bit lonely sometimes.

Offering to finish for him to stiff arm any more incoming awkwardness, you blurt, “Hot? Slutty?”

“Fast.”

Oh.

Did you both just assume the other person wanted it over and done with?

That’s entirely possible considering the first time it happened lasted a grand total of three minutes. Max.

“I mean…” You lean back on your palms, not caring to adjust your very mussed top because your chest finally snags all of Yoongi’s attention. How he’s still hard inside of you is a complete mystery. “I don’t just fuck, you know.”

“And here I thought we were similar,” he teases, groaning through his teeth when you roll on his dick. Again.

And again.

Of course you’re both similar. The only difference is that people dub this guy a sex god and you’re an easy lay.

But you won’t get into that with him. Not now and probably not ever since you don’t dare even label Yoongi a friend.

Panting, you observe him watching your movements as you switch the subject, “You fucked that one sponsor chick for the invite, huh.”

And he takes the out hilariously quick,

“Both of them.”

Of course. Your head kicks back in laughter, remembering that there were two people running the event instead of one.

Truthfully, you would’ve paid to see that.

“Can’t stand you,” you lie, the way you chuckle as he slaps one of your tits saying otherwise.

“Good.”

As he rubs a rough thumb over a nipple, an announcement blares over deejay scratches and cheers, tugging both of your eyes to the door.

Before things quickly devolve into how they always go.

When you arch forward, his lips devour your breast; when you rock your hips into his, the groans against your chest make you feel alive.

Your nails claw through his hair before you can’t decide if you wanna rake them through his shoulders or his neck. Here, there, everywhere you can grab, you take hold.

Suddenly, Yoongi clutches the top of your skirt before thrusting in hard, and his laugh when you whine out a curse strikes your soul. “It’s better that way.”

It’s always better that way.

“Agreed,” you murmur, eyes flickering to the janky ceiling before sighing out, “I think they just said your name.”

“Mm.”

He plunges into you so hard you see his impish curve imprinted among the stars.

“Then hurry up, mami. Gimme one more for luck.”

MAMI

“Who’s on the menu tonight?”

You hum while peering into your mirror—a much cleaner, brighter mirror than the one you were pressed against a couple weeks ago. “That nice guy I’ve been seeing at the gym.”

“Wait, what? Are you going on a date date?”

“Hobi,” you giggle, loving your roommate very much despite the way he just forgets sometimes. “We went through this already.”

“So… Is that a yes, or.” His laugh blurts out when you throw a middle finger next to your head. “Okay, okay! You can just say it, you know.”

“I just”—you spot check your makeup before vacating your vanity stool—“You know me. I never do dates.”

As Hobi leans back on your bed, the way his hot pink robe matches your comforter makes you highly amused. Almost amused enough that you don’t react to his nosy question,

“Nervous?”

Extremely.

“Uhm,” you start, all pretenses dropping at the sight of his cocked brow. “A bit.”

Springing up, your roommate pads over and rests thin palms over even thinner straps of your sundress.

“What’s got you nervous, love?”

Pouting, you look out your window before your chin is gently swiveled back forward. Thankful for his insistence, you confess to the only guy that you feel like you can trust,

“What if I like him?”

The laugh you get is full of disbelief and pity. “That’s what you’re worried about? Really?”

When you nod, he chuckles again, but it’s smaller. And more understanding than the first.

“Pathetic, right.”

“No, no no,” Hobi starts, sliding his hands down to warm your biceps before squeezing. When he pauses, his expression gives his thoughts away before he can utter them. “Well, a little.”

“Hoseok.”

“But! Only because you’re making it seem that way.” He squeezes again before sitting back down on your bed. “If you just let things happen without thinking, isn’t that better?”

Does he really have to flop down to rest his head on his palms? Now?

Talk about not thinking.

Whatever. You didn’t expect Hoseok to do that, but he looks hot, so you’ll let it slide.

And you don’t shy away from his silk-covered package before retorting, “Says you.”

“Me? I overthink. That’s different.”

“How!”

“Don’t think about it.”

When he winks, you both laugh, and his grin slowly devolves into a smirk before he motions you over with a mere head cock.

And you gladly oblige.

Because your dynamic with Hobi still hasn’t changed.

Slowly, you arrive at his knees before mounting the bed at his hips, being steadied over his pelvis as he keeps his prone position.

“You look hot as fuck, you know.”

“Mmhmm.”

“He’s gonna like you for sure.”

“Naturally.”

“So what if you end up liking him, too?”

As he smoothes a hand over the side of your ass, you purse your lips in thought. “Uhh… Feelings? I guess?”

“You can have those, babe.”

“Not mine,” you correct, knowing yours are too fucked up to share with anyone. Which is exactly why you’re all for the so-called fast title that Yoongi clipped onto your persona. “His.”

Does the lifestyle you chose come with regrets? Yeah. Complications? Also yes. But at least those hurt less than the regrets and complications actual relationships come with.

You’re just fine with how things are.

Which is why you’re scared about seeing Namjoon, because he seems like the type that wants something steady. If you end up liking him, you’re gonna have to choose between options that are vastly different in color.

Despite all that, you still said yes when he asked you out at the gym last week—while you were drenched, bare-faced, and wincing from the last set you completed to failure.

Why did you say yes anyway? What drew you in to this guy?

“If you’re scared of hurting his feelings, then just tell him straight-up,” Hobi advises, pulling you back to the present. “Guys won’t know shit unless you spell it out.”

Looking down at his perfect features, you fake disbelief, asking the most rhetorical question in existence, “You mean you can’t just read our minds?”

“Baby, we can’t even figure out our own, let alone yours.”

“You said it.” Fully reassured, you rest on Hoseok’s chest, careful to not smudge your face on his clothes. “…Pity fuck if the date goes wrong?”

“Of course.”

Your chuckle is soft. “Thank you.”

“Now get up,” he orders, smacking your ass so perfectly that it offends you. “Before I give you another necklace.”

“Hoseok!” When his cackles follow you up as you stand, your jaw cannot hinge back in. “Goddamn, you’re bad.”

“Not as bad as you,” he says, following you out of your room. “Mami.”

That goddamn nickname.

Hobi knows it’s a common term. And he knows it’s one you hear from multiple people, especially on south side. Literally nothing new or groundbreaking.

But he also knows it makes you unwell because of one specific person. Because you confessed that you didn’t expect it from them during a fuck and it made you weak in the knees.

Which caused the same motherfucker to say it over, and over, and over again.

Fucking Yoongi.

Why the hell is it only potent when he says it?

The psychology of that needs to be studied yet you will completely refuse to be a subject.

After checking to make sure you have everything, you fish out your phone to double-check the address before calling a ride.

“Where is it at?”

“Some restaurant on west side.”

“Damn, all the way over there?”

“I’m okay with it,” you assure him, inwardly wincing at the cost on your screen.

Virtually anything on west side is far from your condo, but that’s partly why you’re alright with going. As much as you get around, you don’t prefer taking people back to your place.

Besides. No one needs to know where you live unless you really fuck with them.

And it’s only happened twice.

Hoseok’s unconvinced reply cuts your thoughts in two,

“Alright… Well. Lemme know if you end up somewhere else tonight.”

Smiling, you offer him a warm look, positive that his lean against the kitchen wall would put models to shame. “I always do.”

“What did I say earlier?”

“Spell it out for him.”

“Okay, good.”

When you grin, he does, too.

And you hope this Namjoon guy at least does well with words.

Turns out, he does a fucking splendid job with them.

At least, the things this man is saying has you absolutely melting under dim lights, and you haven’t even gotten your drinks yet.

“You look damn nice tonight, by the way,” he mentions with a dip of his head, fiddling with his napkin and giving you an upsettingly perfect view of his fingers. “I feel underdressed as hell.”

Underdressed? Looking around, you feel like you’re the one that dressed way too formal and you’re in a damn sundress.

You should’ve known, though. The restaurant that Namjoon chose occupies one of the few streets known for its laid-back, easy-going fare. Even you have heard of its unique charm and you reside quite a ways away.

Before you respond, you remember how you arrived, checking around the small space before spotting him in a booth. And while you loved the lax way he dressed, you were even more charmed when he got out just to greet you with a cheek kiss.

And the night has been so pleasant that you forget to be worried.

“Why? I mean, thank you, but why?”

Namjoon gives his sweatpants-covered thighs a glance. “I dunno. You just look bossed up and I’m like, your errand boy.”

Your mirthy disbelief leaks out of your grin before he can finish. Watching a nearby table point at their menus to order, you go along with his compliments,

“I mean, I could use an assistant…”

He only smiles at his hands. “Order me around anytime.”

Cute.

Maybe that’s why you’re drawn to this guy.

Even though he’s huge and can lift like a motherfucker, there’s a soft side that he’s got no shame showing.

Also, as the night goes on, you quickly discover more traits you rarely come across.

Curious, suave, humble—all of them surprise you in the best way. He’s already let you talk much more than he has, and the two of you have debated on not one, but three topics. Including one that you would have left his ass for if you both weren’t on the same page.

“Okay, so we agree.”

“Yes,” he responds in relief. “Definitely would’ve rethought this whole thing if we didn’t.”

“Uhh, yeah, because I would’ve walked out and let you pay for everything.”

“Damn!” Fuck, his grin is charming. “And I would’ve paid it, too.”

Laughing—and realizing that you’re doing that a lot tonight—you rest a hand on his shoulder, “No, no, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Fuck, he’s solid.

“Wait, I’m getting us this time, though.”

“Yeah?”

Holding a round glass up to his lips, he coolly adds,

“And next time, too.”

Well.

There’s no way you’re saying no to that.

“To next time,” you offer, clinking cups and taking a nice sip of your wine.

Things end with both of you just having dinner—a concept so foreign that it makes you wonder if he wanted something more than a second date.

But judging by the times he kept stealing glances and the way his curve stayed at a slant, it’s an open and shut case.

It’s always a bit crowded in the front few rows, so it doesn’t bother you to hang back for the first time in awhile.

Besides, you’re a little late from your date anyway.

Since nothing else happened with Namjoon—he had to leave pretty quick—you determined that you could make it to another Gloss smackdown.

After you greet all the people and bodyguards hanging around the front doors, you arrive downstairs just in time to hear the deejay ushering everyone in.

And based on what you hear, it seems like Yijeong’s got extra volume in his mic tonight.

“Alright, alright, let’s give it up for our two up here, yeah?”

Everyone cheers as you clap to yourself, leaning against a chilly column and ignoring the stares your outfit gets.

The stage looks quite different from back here, with its huddled occupants talking amongst themselves. While you watch both crews laughing and standing around, you wonder what it would be like to support Yoongi from up there instead of on the ground.

You really would if he wanted you to.

“I don’t have to introduce either one but I’m gonna do it anyway. Cus that’s the rules or whatever and they both deserve some love. Give it up for my man K Shine!”

You aren’t familiar with him but you support anyway. A tiny whoop leaves your mouth as a big portion of the room shouts, and you watch as the guy nods to the people that came to see him.

“Oh, we’re showing out, okay. Alright, now let’s hear it for my guy Gloss!”

In contrast, your energy evolves tenfold, and you gladly yell with the rest of the floor as Yoongi stays piercing the ground at his feet.

This guy.

Still the same routine.

You always muse that he could look into the crowd once in awhile, especially since his audience is steadily growing.

If they ever saw his smile, maybe more people would be drawn in wait is he looking up this time?

Wait.

Despite there being rows and rows between you and the stage, you don’t miss the slight shift in his demeanor. It almost looks like he’s scanning the people in front.

What’s he doing? Is he looking for something? Someone?

…He’s not looking for you, is he?

You’re there quite often and always in the same area, but you didn’t think Yoongi would really notice or be checking for you right now.

…But is he?

Before you can think any further, the quick blares of an airhorn shove your thoughts away.

“K Shine, you win the toss,” the middle man on stage announces. Fuck, you think you’d know his name by now, he’s been here a lot ever since the first guy disappeared. “What you got.”

When the man answers, he stares right at Yoongi’s hooded head, fire flaring up the walls already,

“Mister Big House, Big Car, Big Rings can go first.”

Oh.

He—

You really fucking regret not being in the front now.

Immediately, the whole room ooh’s, with the middle man pursing his lips and giving the two opponents space.

Light illuminates the whole stage as both sides back up a bit, heavy cameras set to roll and some feedback ringing through the musty air.

And you wait with bated breath as the crowd goes quiet.

Heart stilling as Yoongi holds a mic right up to his lips.

—

tbc :)))

—

so.. what do we think lmaooo 🦋 | join the taglist :D

a/n: thank you all for reading! as i don't have too much time to spend on fics nowadays, i'll be heavily considering feedback and excitement around fics to determine what to work on. if you did enjoy, please interact however you can! even a like is okay at this point, but all tags, reblogs, comments, messages, and submissions in the feedback box are super appreciated.

a/n 2: all the names i’m gonna include that aren’t the members (or yijeong lol) are real life battle rappers! k-shine was one of the first ones i ever watched, and he has good aggressive delivery and performance but not too many heavy hitters. anybody i namedrop will have rap battles linked, so here is one of k-shine’s that i remember from back in the day. battle rap is an art form in itself, and i would like to showcase these talented individuals whenever i can.

++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist

#y'all we finally did it we finally posted something :')))#bts fic #yoongi fic #namjoon fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts fanfic #bts smut #yoongi smut #namjoon smut #hoseok smut #*ryenfictalk #*latest #ryenwrites #rapline fic #rapline smut #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #hoseok x reader

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bucketsofmonsters · 1 year

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Without Expectation

You know how everyone is talking about how Astarion has a difficult relationship with hero characters bc he felt abandoned by them when he was suffering? What if, during his 200 years of imprisonment, he’d met one? Very much inspired by this post

cw: pre-game astarion, Cazador, prostitution and non-consensual sex alluded to but never shown, healing from trauma, Astarion being sexualized, Astarion sexualizing himself, objectification, blood drinking, he’s kind of sexually aggressive in this but it's just because he’s scared and he doesn’t know anything else, reader is from a group of monster hunters that I made up who have been harassing Cazador, they are separate from any in-game monster hunters who are less Astarion friendly

Astarion x gn reader

Word count: 6k

He was charming. Pretty words, perfect hair, a dashing smile, and hollow eyes.

The second Cazador had said the word, he was all over you.

You couldn’t turn down the offer. Not for the promise of pleasure, that was the last thing on your mind looking at him.

But if you got him alone you could talk to him, outside of the watchful eye of his master.

He had you pinned to the wall of your bedroom before you could even say a word. You had to shove him back and he stumbled, a frightened, hurt look crossing his face before the practiced charm slipped easily back.

“Oh, you like to play rough, do you? That’s fine with me, I don’t mind being pushed around a little.”

“Stop,” you pleaded with him. “Please, can I just speak for a second?”

“Say whatever you’d like, darling.”

“Listen… Astarion, wasn’t it?”

He smirked at you. “It is, but you can call me whatever you'd like.”

“Astarion, you don’t have to do this.”

“Of course I don’t. I want to. Don’t you want me?” He moved to get into your space again but you stepped back and he didn’t follow.

You did your best to push past his flirtation. “How often does he make you do things like this?”

“Like this? Not often. My lovers don’t typically live to see the morning. Although I suppose it doesn’t make much difference to me,” he said with a laugh, one that felt practiced and put on.

“Oh.” You couldn’t imagine it, being forced to not only be with so many people but to send them off to their deaths night after night.

Your eyes drifted down as your thoughts spiraled and he grabbed your chin, pulling your face up so your eyes met once more, directing all your attention back to him. “Is that what’s bothering you, darling? I promise Cazador has given me very clear instructions on how well you should be treated.”

“No, that’s not the problem.” You dropped your head into your hands as you tried to figure out what to do. “God, this is such a nightmare. Listen, I can sleep on the couch, you should take the bed,” you said, gesturing vaguely at the loveseat tucked in the corner of the room.

“Come now, that’s not necessary my dear,” he practically purred at you.

You felt a little more nauseous with every pass he made at you. “You really don’t have to do that, I swear. Not in here at least. It would probably be prudent to pretend in front of Cazador but that’s an issue for tomorrow.”

“Even if you don’t want sex,” he said with a little roll of his eyes. “The couch is not necessary. I promise I won’t bite.”

It was a bad idea. You knew that much. But the bed looked so soft and comfortable and the couch wasn’t even long enough to fit all of you if you tried to lie down.

You sat on the bed tentatively and sunk into the mattress. It was by far the most comfortable bed you’d ever been in and you ran your hand along the silky sheets. “Alright, but we’ll just be sleeping,” you said with a pointed look in his direction.

In a heartbeat, you were pushed back onto the mattress and he was looking over you, his hands on either side of your head as he grinned down at you. “Are you certain, my dear? I could make you feel so good.”

“I’m sure you could,” you said with a smile, cupping his face in your hands. His eyes lit up at the contact and it was clear that he thought he’d done it, that he'd won you over. “But that won’t be necessary.”

You leaned up and pressed a kiss into his forehead before gently pushing him off of you back towards his side of the bed.

He seemed wounded and frightened by the gesture, a far cry from the practiced seduction you’ve seen from him so far. “You don’t want me.”

“I assure you that is not the problem,” you said, careful to keep your voice gentle.

He did not seem convinced, a tragic vulnerability starting to seep through his facade.

As he stared at you, a worried look plastered across his face, you grabbed some of the many pillows from the top of the bed, placing a few between the two of you.

He scoffed at the sight. “I don’t know what those are meant to stop. Not exactly impenetrable security against a rabid vampire.”

“They’re not for you. I have a tendency to get… grabby, in my sleep.”

He huffed, folding his arms as he finally conceded ground and laid down next to you. “Good. Maybe you’ll be more interesting than when you are awake.”

You doubted he’d find you snuggling a pillow particularly interesting but you let him interpret your words however he pleased.

“Perhaps. Now if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to sleep now.”

“It’s not all the same to me, thank you very much.”

“Alright,” you said with a yawn. “Goodnight.”

You woke up with your arms wrapped around a pillow from your little wall, holding it close to your chest as you eased your eyes open to see Astarion unabashedly staring at you.

He spoke as soon as he caught wind you were awake. “You weren’t kidding about being grabby, you’re practically smothering the poor thing.”

Your face warmed slightly at his words, embarrassment fluttering in your chest. “It’s an old habit. What about you, couldn’t sleep?”

“Elves don’t sleep.”

You suddenly felt incredibly foolish. “Oh. Right. So you’ve just been sitting there all night then?”

“I tranced for a while. It was certainly a more boring night than I expected.”

You yawned as you sat up, setting the pillow you’d been holding behind you. “Terribly sorry to disappoint. Hopefully, there will be many more boring nights in your future.”

He pulled back, cocking his head to the side. “What?”

You realized you hadn’t told him of your little scheme yet. “I was thinking. This whole meeting with Cazador was more of a formality than anything. He’s killed too many of our people, we need to make this deal, at least until we can figure out how to sort him out for good. But he doesn’t know that and maybe, if you’re amiable to it, I could throw in a final term to the deal. Where he has to give me… well, you. Not that you should be his to give, but I figure if I can save someone from this place and I didn’t, what kind of a monster would I be?”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you want from me?”

You shrugged. “I’d say nothing if I thought you’d believe me. If you need to rationalize it, let’s just say it’s an ego boost. Now I get to feel like a good person and you get to leave this place. As long as I don’t mess it up too badly.”

Mistrust was written across his face and it seemed like the first completely honest emotion you’d been able to pull from him.

“I don’t believe you.”

“That’s fine, we can fix that after I get you out of here.” You sighed. “Wish me luck. I’m an awful liar.”

He trailed after you as you left, seemingly incapable of letting you out of his sight.

Maybe he was. Maybe he’d been ordered to do so. You had no way to tell. It made your heart hurt, the sight of him here, the idea of Cazador’s other spawn that you couldn’t save. At least not yet.

He followed you like a loyal pup all the way to Cazador, who was lounging in a chair without a care in the world.

He chuckled at the sight of Astarion behind you. “And how was my spawn? To your satisfaction?”

You swallowed down that bile that rose in you as you said, “He was a delight. I was wondering, in the name of our agreement, is there any way I could keep him? It’s just that I’ve grown quite fond of him so very quickly.”

Cazador laughed, a putrid, callous thing. “I’m sure. He can be quite… convincing. And this would make you amenable to my terms?”

You nodded. “All the monster hunters in Baldur's Gate will focus their attention in… other places. You and yours will be entirely safe from our wrath.”

“And if we’d like to push you in the direction of another creature?”

You gave him a tactful nod. “We could be convinced.”

“Good.” He laughed once more. “Typical monster hunter. You pretend to hate us and yet you want to keep a vampire pet.”

Astarion leaned into your side and you felt a little queasy at the performance as you snaked your arm around him. “Like I said, he was very convincing.”

He sighed. “You drive a hard bargain. As you wish, you shall have your terms. Just tell me if he doesn’t behave. I can get him sorted right out for you.”

It took everything you had not to lunge at him thinking about everything he’d put this poor man through. “Of course, but I’m sure I’ll be able to manage just fine on my own.”

You got out of there as fast as you could. Even if you hadn’t had Astarion with you, you didn’t want to spend any longer than absolutely necessary with the monster.

You pulled him through the streets back to the house you were staying in, racing against the sun. You barely had enough time to get him there and pull him inside, but you had a feeling he’d prefer this mad dash over staying another day with his master.

Regardless, the whole time your eyes were darting around, looking for places you could hide him should you need to.

You wondered what you’d even do if it had come to that. Just sit with him for the rest of the day, you supposed, unless he wanted to try a risky maneuver with a thick blanket.

You tried to pull him inside but it was like an invisible wall had stopped him in his tracks. You gave him a questioning look and he grumbled, “You have to invite me.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, come in!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, he rushed in beside you and you set yourself to making sure all of the widows were fully shut, pulling the curtains tight.

He watched you dart about, tugging at the thick fabric. His gaze was judgemental but at least the emotion seemed genuine.

As soon as you were mostly certain he wouldn’t burn to death, you turned to him. “We won’t be leaving for a while so you can make yourself at home. If you need anything just let me know, okay?”

You didn’t see him for the whole day. You were busy and he made himself scarce. You couldn’t blame him. You imagined he’d long since made it a habit to avoid being seen by anyone. Anyone except his forced prey, you supposed. But still, he hid away from them, in his own way.

“Astarion, can you come look at this?” you called out as the sun finally dipped fully below the horizon, hoping he was close enough that he could hear you. And hoping he would come even if he did.

It took a few minutes but eventually he came sauntering down the stairs.

“Yes, my dear?”

You grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the window, gesturing out at the carriage that was illuminated by torches alone, shrouded in the thick darkness of the night. “Do you think it’ll be alright? The last thing I want is for you to get hurt.”

He stared out at the carriage you’d spent hours painstakingly attempting to make impenetrable to light. You’d painted the windows black, hung blankets over top of them, shoved old linens in the cracks in the doors.

He cautiously headed outside, staring at the carriage with furrowed brows. “Did you do this?”

“Yeah, I tested it during the day. It seemed pretty solid but obviously you couldn’t check then. I could bring a torch around the outside if you wanted to check for yourself.”

He looked at you like you were mad. “We could have just traveled at night.”

You shrugged. “It’s a two-day journey and I didn’t want to depend on inns and shelter along the road to protect you during the day. This seemed safer.”

He opened the door, sitting inside and looking around at the painstakingly covered windows and cracks, and you couldn’t tell if he seemed uncomfortable because he was worried about the sun or because of the sheer amount of effort you’d clearly put into it.

“Do you want anything for the ride?” you asked, pushing forward. “Some books or something? I could go get them for you.”

“Your company is all I could ask for.”

“Okay, but for real though. Never mind, I’ll just get you some books.” You doubted you’d be able to pull an honest answer from him for a very long time, if at all.

After a frenzied book run, the two of you were ready to head off, locking yourselves inside the carriage until the sun set once more.

The bumps of the carriage jostled the two of you as you rode. The flickering orange light of two lanterns, one for each of you, barely illuminated the darkened space and you couldn’t help but feel a little claustrophobic.

He was sitting, staring at you, book untouched on his lap.

You’d brought as many options as you could think of, romance novels, epics, history, a horticultural book that had pulled a snort and an incredulous look from him when he’d seen it.

He didn’t seem much in the mood for reading and under his unblinking gaze, neither were you. Instead, you stared at the painted-over window, wishing there was anything else you had to look at in the dim light.

“Admiring your paint job?” he asked with a chuckle as you continued to refuse to meet his unblinking gaze.

“Something like that.” You decided to take the broken silence as an opportunity. Anything was better than being silently stared at and you weren’t sure you’d get a better chance to ask him. “Can I ask you something that’s potentially insensitive?”

He smirked at you with that practiced allure. “Ask away.”

“Were you one of his favorites? Cazador's, I mean.”

He scoffed. “In a way. He loved torturing me more than anyone else.”

You leaned forward. “So it might be easier to convince him to part with the others?”

His eyes narrowed at you and you watched as he tried once again to figure out what your angle was. “You’ve got a real bleeding heart, don’t you?”

“We’ve been unable to hurt him for so long, failed at it for years and years. Every day you were there was because we weren’t good enough at what we did. I can’t help it, I feel a little responsible for you. For all of you.”

“Oh please,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Like I’m not one of the monsters you hunt.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Why would you be? Who have you hurt?”

He laughed a cold, cruel laugh. “Darling, you have no idea how many people I’ve hurt.”

“You haven’t though. Cazador hurt people through you, sure. But you didn’t hurt anyone, not really. You’re a victim just as much as they were. At least we managed to save some of them.”

He squirmed in his seat. “I think they might disagree.”

You shrugged, something delicate in his eyes telling you not to push. “Maybe.”

The rest of the ride was completed in silence, not only fueled by your discomfort but now also Astarion’s irritation with you.

Your driver gave a knock on the door as the sun disappeared, just as you’d instructed him to, and you opened it to find a quaint little inn surrounded by woods in front of you.

He left to take care of the horses and you led Astarion inside, securing two rooms for the three of you. In a perfect world you would’ve gotten Astarion his own room, but his vampirism wasn’t exactly subtle and you couldn’t help but worry that some overzealous patron of this establishment might take it upon themself to rid the inn of the supposed monster.

You led him up to the room you’d be sharing and as you entered, he stood in the doorway and took in the sight.

You were quick to give him a quiet, “Come in,” but he brushed you off.

“That’s for houses, not individual rooms. I just…there’s two beds.”

You nodded. “Yup. For two people.”

He eyed you suspiciously, as if the two beds might be part of some devious scheme. After a few moments, he seemed to decide it was just a normal room and took the bed nearest the door.

He seemed paler than he’d been the night before and a horrible thought struck you. “Oh my god, you need to eat! I haven’t been feeding you.”

He chuckled. “Good luck with that, there aren’t many disposable animals out here. At least, not ones you could catch. Unless you want to let me at the horses, but that would leave us in quite the predicament.”

“I mean, you could drink from me. Not everything, obviously, but I could spare some.”

You held out your hand to him, presenting your wrist and looking at him expectantly.

“I’m not allowed to drink human blood,” he spat back at you, the bile of hundreds of years of resentment lacing his words. “Cazador doesn’t allow it.”

“You’re not his anymore. He gave control over to me and I say you can do whatever you’d like and that you don’t take orders from anyone anymore. The offer stands.” You went to withdraw your hand until his hunger bested his hesitation but he grabbed your wrist, stopping you from pulling away.

“Well,” he said with a sly smile. “As long as you’re offering, I would be a fool to turn you down.”

It was so strange how quickly it happened, how easily he could slip right back into that faux confidence.

He leaned towards you and you backed away at the hungry look in his eyes, one you were more than familiar with.

“If you really want to I’m sure there’s ways we could make this a more rewarding experience for you,” he said and in a heartbeat he maneuvered himself over you, his hands interlaced with yours and holding you to the mattress.

You pulled yourself back in an instant, leaning against the headboard as you presented your wrist to him once more.

You didn’t fault him for it. After years of surviving with it, of course he would keep trying to draw you in with his sexuality. The instinct couldn’t be snuffed out overnight.

You’d bat away his attempts as many times you needed to, try and make him understand. You weren’t sure if it would ever work, not fully, but you’d keep trying.

“It’s easier this way,” you said in explanation, giving him something to latch onto that didn’t feel like rejection.

He rolled his eyes. “Easier, I’m sure. Typical, I got a master who’s allergic to fun.”

“I’m not your master. You can do as you please, could leave now if you wanted.”

“And go where?” he snapped. “You can pretend if you must but I know what I am. I know where I stand. I am a lot of things, but I am no fool.”

“I know.”

He studied you for a moment, eyes daring across your face before he pulled your wrist towards him, digging his teeth into your flesh.

The sharp pain lasted for a heartbeat before it faded away to a dull ache. He lapped at the open wound, his put-on demeanor disappearing as he got lost in it.

He cradled your hand like it was a lifeline. In a way, you supposed it was.

You could feel yourself getting lightheaded as he fed but you refused to stop him. You would not command it of him, would rather die than force him into it. You let out a quiet whine, your form slumping back into the bed.

He drew away immediately and your blood began pouring onto the white sheets of the bed.

A moment of panic reflected in his red eyes before he grabbed the corner of the sheets, wrapping them around your wound.

“There,” he said, his voice quieter than his normal bravado. “Should keep you from bleeding out.”

Your eyes were locked on his collarbone, a dark bruise becoming visible as your blood fled through his previously starved body. The longer you looked, the more of them you could see, peeking out from under his clothes.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you said in hushed tones, hands moving to reach for him before stopping in their tracks, unsure if your touch would be wanted.

He was otherwise preoccupied, his eyes alight with something entirely new. He looked stronger, livelier. There was a warmth to his cheeks you’d never seen before.

You resisted the urge to touch him, to see if he’d become warmer as your blood had begun to run through him, bringing a new light to his eyes.

“You should get some rest,” he said, looking down at you lying exhausted and drained on the bed. “You certainly need it.”

You barely had time to laugh at his comment before you’d drifted off.

The ride back was as quiet as it had been the day before, if a little less uncomfortable. Astarion still stared for much of it but he at least pretended to read his book. The healthy flush to his cheeks seemed to come with a bit of newfound comfort and ease around you that made you puff up with pride, even if you still felt a little woozy from the night before.

“Here we are!” you said as a knock sounded on the door, opening it and leading him inside your home. It was an old manor of your family's, not particularly big, right on the edge of nowhere, and perhaps falling apart just a little but more than suitable for your purposes. “It’s a little bit of a mess but I kind of like it that way. Come on, I’ll show you your room.”

You decided to put him in a room that was just a few doors down from your own, pointing out just where he could go to find you if he needed anything.

You laid down to sleep once you got him situated, more exhausted than you typically were at this time of night. Despite how tired you were, presumably from the blood loss, you had to fight the urge to go and check on Astarion just one more time.

You hadn’t known him for long but you’d already developed an intensely protective instinct towards the man.

You did your best to put him out of your mind when a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” you called out. You made no attempt to suppress your smile when he peeked in the doorway.

“I think I’ve grown accustomed to your company,” he said sheepishly, and for once it didn’t seem like he was trying to seduce you. He seemed worn down, looking just as tired as you felt, a defeated air present on his face.

You were too tired for subtlety, opening your arm to him and muttering a sleepy, “Just come here.”

He seemed grateful to not have to explain himself. To not have to ask.

He sat on the bed, looking down at you where you lay.

“No pillow this time?” he asked in that snide voice he used so often.

“I can if you want. Just thought you might appreciate the closeness.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Fine, I’ll be your little pillow to hug. Fair warning though, I run cold.”

You tried and failed to suppress a yawn as he got into bed beside you and you wrapped your arms softly around him. “I don’t mind. G’night.”

“Goodnight, my dear.”

Just like that, it became a bit of unspoken habit between the two of you. You felt it might honestly kill him to comment on it, to ask you for affection. But with no words, no pleasantries, there he was every night, beside you.

One night, about a week into his residence in your home, he seemed more restless than normal, fiddling endlessly with your hand, incapable of sitting still. You turned to him with a pointed look. “Come on, out with it, it’s not good to go to bed with things left unsaid.”

He scoffed. “Why not?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, what if I die in my sleep or something.”

“If you die in your sleep, I think I might have bigger problems than things I didn’t say to you. Namely, some monster hunters who might take issue with the vampire you died next to.”

You shook your head. “No, I already told them about you, they wouldn’t hurt you.”

That seemed to take him by surprise, pulling back a bit at your words. “You did?”

“Of course I did. Now come on, out with it, what’s going on it that head of yours?”

He sighed dramatically and flopped back on his pillow. “It’s really nothing.”

“Not if it's bothering you. I want to help.”

“Did you mean it?” he blurted out, like the words had to be forced out of him quickly or they wouldn’t come out at all. “When you said you wanted to save the rest of them too?”

“Of course I did. And I will. At least if I have anything to say about it,” you said quietly, your stomach turning at the thought of the other spawn you’d left behind.

He turned from you as if you’d slapped him. “Right. I’m going to sleep in my own room. I should’ve been in there anyway, this was silly. Goodnight, darling.”

You chased after him in a heartbeat, catching up at him before he’d even managed to open his door. “Wait, what did I do? Astarion?”

He was an unstoppable force, storming into his own room.

“I don’t understand what I did,” you pleaded with him, desperate to fix it. You raked through your conversation, trying to dissect every word spoken, every facial expression. You found nothing. Shouldn’t he be happy you wanted to help them? It didn’t make sense to you.

He sat on his bed, one he’d never slept in, arms crossed and brows furrowed. When he spoke, there was a faux casualty to it, like he was trying to pretend none of it mattered to him. “I’m just making room for the next stray you let into your bed.”

You sat next to him, careful to keep your distance as you moved your head down to try and catch his eye. “You know I’m not replacing you, right?”

He huffed in response, turning away from you again.

You made sure to keep your tone gentle and soft. “You know I wouldn’t let just any vampire spawn sleep next to me, right? It’s because I care about you, it’s not just because you’re there. No one is replacing you and I promise there is enough of me to help people while also still being there for you. I will save as many of them as I can until I can rid this world of Cazador but you’re not just Cazador’s victim, you’re my friend.”

He turned to you suddenly. “Stop saying that. Stop saying you’re going to hunt down Cazador. If he catches wind of any of this you’re dead. At least, if you’re lucky you’ll be dead. And then where will I be?”

“Hey, I’ve been doing this a long time. I know what I’m doing, we all know what we’re doing. He’s not going to get me.”

“That’s why you made that deal, is it? Did all the other hunters he slaughtered know what they were doing too? You aren’t a threat to him, you are a nuisance. You need to stop,” he snarled.

You couldn’t stop. You both knew that, could see it as clear as day.

Instead, you just said a quiet, “Come on, come to bed,” and walked out of the room.

He trailed behind you, the unendable argument weighing heavy on the both of you, no more words spoken as he slipped under the sheets. You gave his hand a squeeze, trying your best to reassure him despite knowing it would never work. Not as long as he was still out there.

And then, as he leaned into your space, head brushing against your arm, something he’d been getting slowly more comfortable doing, something occurred to you that should have many days ago, back when he’d first arrived here. It was strange that he was here, now. Not just because of his uncomfortability with any sort of nonsexual closeness, but because of when it was.

Not only did elves not sleep the same way nor as long as humans did, but vampires slept during the day typically, to enjoy the night as best they could.

“I’m going to start sleeping during the day,” you said decisively. “That way we can keep doing this,” you said as you gestured around vaguely, “and you can go out, can do things with your waking hours. I’m sorry it didn’t occur to me sooner.”

His eyes widened. “You’d really let me leave?”

His surprise felt like a shard of ice through your chest. “Of course I would. You can do whatever you want. I’ll even do my best to help if you’ll ask me for it.” Another horrible thought struck you. “Wait, you didn’t think you could leave and you’ve been with me most nights. What have you been eating?”

“Whatever I could find. I make for wonderful pest control.”

Your heart sank. You should’ve considered this sooner, never put him through any of this.

“Here, drink from me,” you said, sticking out your hand. “I can get some bigger animals for you, keep them here so you don’t have to hunt for them if you’d prefer, but for now I will have to do.”

He hesitated, although his gaze was less suspicious than the last time you’d done this. Instead, he looked nervous. “You’ve… you’ve already done so much for me. I shouldn’t.”

“Astarion, you’re starving,” you said quietly, trying to reason with him.

“I’d rather not push it. Eventually, even your charity will run out.”

You shook your head. “It will not. It’s fine if you don’t believe me, I know it’ll take time, but I will keep being here for you until it sinks in. Promise.”

He laughed quietly, seeming more for himself than for you, something that had been happening more and more lately. “You underestimate my distrust, I think I could outlast you.”

You smiled back. “Challenge accepted. But until then, you need to eat.”

You held out your wrist for him, the marks from the last time just beginning to fade. He took it, gingerly, bringing it slowly to his mouth and watching your face for any apprehension.

You showed none, instead giving him a soft smile. “Go on. I don’t bite.”

That got a real laugh out of him. “That’s not funny.”

He pressed a soft kiss into your skin before sinking his fangs in, that sharp pain coming with a flutter of warmth inside your chest.

He was slower this time, more intentional as he drank. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he wasn’t as hungry or if it was because it felt less like his meal might be ripped away from him unceremoniously.

He didn’t get as lost in it this time, eyes flicking up to meet yours, checking in on you.

You didn’t even get the chance to try and tell him you were feeling woozy before he drew back, pulling a handkerchief you hadn’t even noticed off the side table to wrap around your wrist.

“Wouldn’t want to get our sheets all bloody,” he said as he knotted it tight around your wound.

Your hands moved slowly as soon as he released them, reaching up towards his face and giving him plenty of time to back away.

For a moment, when he first saw you reaching for him, he pulled back and you were ready to retreat and shower him in endless apologies when, as suddenly as he’d moved away, he leaned into your touch.

Gentle hands cradled his face, ones he’d flinched away from but a moment before. He leaned into them openly now, unabashedly, making a home between your palms.

He was warmer like this, with your blood rushing through him.

You pulled him closer as his head tucked right under yours, your fingers carding gently through his hair.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, barely loud enough to reach his ears, and you had no idea if he believed you.

You doubted it, doubted that you’d been able to break through all those years of his living hell so quickly. His walls had been carefully constructed for a reason, and you understood why he was so hesitant to break them down. You couldn’t blame him, would never blame him.

It didn’t really matter. You’d keep trying either way.

#astarion #astarion x reader #vampire x reader #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion needs a hug

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amaranthhiding · 5 days

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The unforgiving waves pushed him further under, arms and legs flailing wildly. In his panic, he made the mistake of trying to breathe. To scream. All it got him was a mouthful of water and a burning in his lungs.

DeanCas Horrorfest presents:

A Word in the Mists

Author: Hiding Amaranth Artist: lamiasage Rating: M Word Count: ~23,000 Tags&Warnings: pre-relationship Dean/Castiel, Dean & Jo, Canon-Adjacent AU, Case Fic, Monster Hunt, Mystery, Ship at Sea Setting, Isolated from the Outside World, Sarcasm, Angst, Canon-Level Depictions of Blood and Violence, Minor Character Deaths (not TFW), Brief Hints of Suicidal Thoughts, Fear of Drowning, I can't use more tags because I don't want to spoil the surprise

Summary: Mist as far as the eye can see. A gloomy ocean that seems to swallow up the sunlight like broken dreams. An old, rusty ship that creaks with every inch of movement. And a crew that could compete in an award for grumpiest people alive.

Dean really hates pretty much everything about this case, and would love nothing more than to call it quits and turn this ship around—if there wasn't the little issue of the disappearance of thousands of people across ten different ships on the open sea.

Saving lives is what he does… though he has to question if he isn't doing more harm than good when the disappearances begin on his own ship—and he still hasn't even figured out what kind of monster they're dealing with.

Preview: Nothingness devoured the horizon. Dean glanced back over his shoulder, but the wafts of mist were too thick to see anything beyond the ship's railing. A chill crept over his skin at the realization that he couldn't even make out the other end of the ship itself. The chain of friendly, orange lights hung across the deck didn't stand a chance, its brightness swallowed up effortlessly by the blanket of fog. It was a mirror to the way this blasted mission seemed to soak all happiness out of him.

Maybe coming up here had been a mistake. He'd hoped the fresh air would help him clear his head—that it could ease some of the tension that had stubbornly settled in his shoulders ever since he'd set foot on the Fate's Whisper. Instead, all he'd achieved by stepping out on the deck was that the tight knot of worry somewhere deep in his chest solidified.

Coming this October to @deancashorrorfest!

The Apocalypse is nigh, and the Prophecy is false.

#destiel #fic promo #deancas horrorfest 2024 #amaranthfics #deancashorrorfest #deancas horrorfest #castiel #dean winchester #dean #jo harvelle #jo #supernatural #spn #fanfic #fanart #deancas #dean x castiel #we are SO excited to share this with you all!!

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featherandferns · 2 months

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daylight - eight

jj maybank x fem!reader | part 8 of the daylight series | read part 7 here

content warnings: sexual content (f receiving); drug use (weed)

word count: 2.5k.

blurb: whilst watching cheesy eighties horror, you and JJ somehow end up in a fight as all the mess from the past two months finally comes to a head.

“This is the dumbest fucking movie I’ve ever seen,” you snort, passing JJ back his joint.

“Shut up, this is the best part,” JJ mutters.

He takes a hit and the cloud of vapour clouds your vision. It temporarily blocks the view of the screen, showing Lauren Daniels, permed blonde hair and pink-sweater clad, quivering in fear atop of a shelf in her apartment. The slimy, green-toned cannibalistic monster lingers below, snarling with its fang-like teeth and beady eyes. In the light of modern C.G.I and with the humour from the high you’re on, the whole movie is ludicrous and hilarious. JJ had begged for you guys to watch it. Your vote was Legally Blonde but he turned his nose up. So, here you were, sat side by side, your feet in his lap, dazily watching C.H.U.D as you pass a joint back and forth. You’re at JJ’s house. It had the lingering household smell of weed and booze. Untidy and unkempt, there were empty beer cans and unclean laundry strewn about all over. Intermixed was mechanical parts which you assume are from his dad’s handy-man jobs. His dad was out somewhere: JJ hadn’t said and you didn’t ask.

As Lauren tosses a bucket of developer on the monster, one of JJ’s hands absentmindedly massages your left foot. It shoots tingles up your legs. It’s weirdly domestic, this entanglement. Something about it feels more than friendly. I mean, you can’t imagine JJ messing with Kiara’s feet whilst watching a movie. Tuning out of the movie and taking another hit of the joint, your mind starts to wander.

Things between you and JJ had gotten more and more complicated. Most conversations started with teasing jabs and ended with his dick in your mouth. Hang-outs came with the unspoken agreement of making-out at some stage. But things were deeper than sex. The conversations were deeper than those shared between fuck buddies. The touching felt more sensual than a rush to get off. There were these times you’d catch JJ looking at you, and there’d be this longing in his gaze. You knew it because you saw it in your own eyes. Catch it in the reflection of a mirror or window, or spot it in a photo taken by one of the Pogues at whatever hang. You always kept the focus on him, though. It felt easier to pleasure him than to have his hands on you. Everytime he tried to, you’d tense up and internally freak out, and spiral into thoughts and anxieties that stemmed from Tyler. In short: it scared the shit out of you to let JJ have you. You knew that the moment you’d give yourself to him would be the moment you were in too deep.

But every time you think about bringing it up or cutting it off, you remember how relaxed you feel in JJ’s company. How seen. The two of you shared a language that didn’t require trivial things like words. The thought of JJ being the impending meteorite circling your orbit lost its weight in worry with the notion that you got to have him near. That you got to gaze upon and marvel at him when he wasn’t looking, and wonder how on earth something so pure and perfect was handed such a shitty deal in life. How someone like him wanted to spend time with someone like you.

JJ’s knuckle hitting a pressure point in your foot has you twitching, coming back to the present. He chuckles quietly. Does it again just to get a reaction. You lightly kick at him.

“Knock it off,” you mumble.

“Can’t help it. S’funny,” he replies. “You hear from Mimsy recently?”

“A little. I think she’s really into Darren,” you say.

It’s weird that JJ knows about that. About Mimsy and her livelihood, and was interested enough to ask about it. He had a habit of checking up on you. Asking you about how you were feeling about Kildare, and how your parents were, how the photography was going, how Mimsy was doing. He coaxed anecdotes about Vancouver out of you whenever you felt homesick simply because he knew how much you liked talking about your home.

“Didn’t you say he was a trust fund baby?” JJ sniggers.

“Yeah, well, there’s worse people for her to hook up with,” you shrug, requesting the joint back with wiggling fingers.

“What? Like Lloyd?”

You glance at him, mildly bewildered. “How do you remember that?”

“Hm?”

“How do you remember Lloyd?”

You don’t even remember mentioning him. JJ shrugs.

“I dunno. I remember most things you tell me,” he says, looking back to the TV screen. His fingers continue rubbing the palm of your foot. You’re practically desensitised to it now. “I like hearing you talk.”

And you fucking hate it when he says things like that: passes compliments to you like it’s Monopoly currency. You hate how easy it is for him to do it, seemingly unaware of the effect it has on you.

When JJ turns to you again, likely seeking out the joint, he finds your stare set on his profile. Smiling, he asks, “what?”

Your lips twitch upwards at the deja vu. “Nothing. It’s just that you’re really fucking pretty.”

JJ eyes light up. His smile turns bashful. It's taken out of view when he dips his head, turning it away from you. You giggle and prod at his chest with your toes, teeth sinking into your lips to try and keep your cheesy grin at bay.

JJ's fingers wrap around your ankle. He drags you to him, across the sofa, making you yelp out with a laugh. Those very fingers slide up your bare legs, slipping under your pyjama shorts to cup your ass, and he tugs you into his lap. You loop your arms around his neck with a giggle, blunt still balanced precariously between two fingers, and accidentally bump his forehead in the process. The two of you laugh, doped up and dizzy, and his nose brushes yours as he calms. The two of you sit like that - you in JJ’s lap - passing Eskimo kisses, eyes closed, smiles steady. When he finally presses his lips to yours, the kiss feels different to all the other times. Less frenzied. It almost feels like he’s trying to tell you something as he brushes your lips against his. His tongue that slips into your mouth carries messages you can’t seem to decipher, as the two of you fall into one another. One of your hands strokes along his jaw, angling his head to deepen the kiss. He’s growing hard beneath you, making your cunt throb with the thought. He flinches away suddenly with a hiss.

“What? What’s wrong?” you mumble, leaning back in his strong hold.

He chuckles. “Fucking ash hit the back of my neck.”

Giggling, you take the joint away and carelessly put it on the coffee table behind you. Turning back to him, you find yourself taken aback by the look on his face. It makes your heart stop still in your chest before it plummets down your ribcage. You know that look. You’ve seen it on your own face, when you stare into the mirror.

“JJ…” you whisper.

His lips on yours silence you with a fiery kiss. You gasp against them as he picks you up and practically tosses you on your back on the sofa, with something between a grunt and growl. He scrambles to be atop of you, unapologetic as he kisses down your jawline and neck. You hurry to take off your shirt the moment his fingers tease at the hem of it. He’s back on you in a minute. Your body feels like it’s on fire. Like you might combust if someone were to light a match. And, God, do you want him to.

You rut your hips instinctively at the feel of JJ’s lips on your nipple through your thin bralette. Eyes slipping closed, head tilting back, your fingers latch into his scraggly hair. You hum out a moan.

“So fuckin’ pretty, baby,” JJ mumbles against your heaving stomach. “So fuckin’ needy too.”

Your fingers fiddle with the back of his collar, tugging at it until he takes the hint. He grabs it by the back and pulls it off his head. Tosses it to the side, chuckling with a horny grin as he reconnects his lips to your bare skin. Your bralette joins the pile, much to JJ’s pleasure. His hands fondle at your breast; the pad of his thumb tenderly brushes over your hardening nipple before pinching it between his forefinger. You gasp out a soundless moan.

Kissing just above the waistband of your shorts, his fingers find purchase on your hipbones. They dip below the fabric and try to coax them down.

You feel like gravity hits. You come plummeting back down to earth. Palming at his shoulder and jaw, you try and coax his face back to yours.

“Lemme suck you off,” you mumble, looking down at him. He looks so pretty, between your legs.

He shakes his head with a smile. “Wanna make you feel good.”

“You don’t have to,” you say, trying to keep your voice light. You try to bring him back up to you again but JJ doesn’t relent. It takes you physically shifting out of his hold to stop him from pulling your short down. When he looks up at you, his smile is fading. You try to bring it back with one of your own. “I just wanna get you off.”

JJ pauses. Physically stills. Then, he sits back on his knees. Your smile vanishes. After knowing JJ for as long as you have, you can recognise the telltale signs of his frustration and anger. JJ looks to the TV screen, attention elsewhere, and begins to shake his head. Slow at first, then fast. All you can do is watch. Finally, he makes a sound. It’s a humourless scoff.

“Why won’t you let me touch you?” JJ asks, looking back to you.

Your stomach twists nervously. “I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“JJ, I literally just let you feel me up,” you return with a failing laugh, brows furrowing.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” JJ quickly returns, tone turning short.

You blink at him, faux smile gone, and your lips bumble to find some sort of response. JJ’s irritation momentarily subsides and is instead replaced with hurt.

You hate the vulnerable insecurity in JJ’s voice when he asks, “do you not trust me or something?”

“No, of course I do–”

“Then why do you never let me near you?” JJ snaps. He tosses out his arms. “I mean, am I not good enough for you or something?”

“What?”

“Not fucking worthy enough to see you naked, is that it?”

“Of course not,” you breathe, bewildered by the thought.

“Then what? I don’t fucking turn you on, is that it? I just don’t do it for you and you wanna spare my fucking feelings?”

Your eyes narrow at his words. “Are you throwing what happened in the chateau in my face right now?”

“No, I just–” JJ cuts himself off with a sharp exhale, clenching his eyes shut. He clenches his fist to try and restrain his anger. His knuckles slowly lift to his lips. “I just want to know why.”

“Why the fuck do you think you deserve to?” you snap. Sitting up, you grab for your shirt and tug it on. “What? You think every person you’ve ever known owes you an explanation for why they’re not falling at your feet?”

“Oh, fuck off,” JJ mutters, shaking his head. “You’re avoiding the question.”

“I don’t need to avoid it,” you sharply return. “Cause I don’t need to fucking answer it.”

“You don’t need to answer it?”

“No, I don’t.”

“You don’t think I deserve to know why, after two months of us doing this fucking thing, you don’t let me go down on you?”

Your eyes clench shut.

“Why you don’t let me fuck you?”

You laugh out a humourless laugh. Gape at him, eyes mean. “Oh! So that’s what this is! You’re fucking bitter cause a girl won’t let you fuck her? You know, there’s this wonderful thing in the world, JJ - you should learn about it sometime. It’s called women having rights.”

“Oh my fucking God,” JJ spits, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers as his eyes shut. “You’re fucking impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re an entitled prick. Guess we both have each other’s number now,” you quickly retort.

You get to your feet and search for JJ’s shirt, finding it on the other side of the coffee table. The drivel coming out of the television only pisses you off more, so you shut it off.

“What aren’t you telling me?” JJ asks. His voice is calmer, though still strung tight. With your back to him, he can’t see the look on your face. He can’t see the physical pain that question causes you. “I thought things were good between us.”

You look down and your eyes close. Fist scrunching JJ’s t-shirt in your hold, your lips purse to keep from quivering. You knew this was a bad idea. Most things are, when it comes to romance. Somebody always gets hurt.

“Well? Aren’t they?”

You take a shaking intake of air and finally find enough courage to turn. JJ’s not angry anymore. He looks just as dejected as you feel. You shake your head weakly.

“What are we doing, JJ?”

“I…” His mouth moves but no words come out. Until they do. “We’re just messing around.”

It feels like that’s the final shot to your stomach that sends your whole world crashing. As if laying down to rest, your eyes slip shut.

“Yeah, well, it’s certainly a fucking mess now, isn’t it?” you whisper.

You throw him his shirt with no conviction. He only just catches it as it slides down his chest. For once in his life, JJ doesn’t seem to have anything to say. Shaking your head, breaking his stare, you run your fingers through your hair.

“I’ll see you around, JJ.”

As you walk past him, towards the door, you hear JJ call out your name. You don’t stop. Don’t turn. Don’t think about anything but Vancouver the entire way home, as if it’s some escapist daydream. Halfway to your house, you try to call Mimsy but she doesn't pick up. You try again as you walk through the door. Home alone, the house feels just as lonely as yourself. With one final attempt, you go to voicemail for a third time. You leave her a mess of a voicemail. And then, you crawl into bed.

part nine coming soon!

taglist:

#jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj #obx #outer banks #outerbanks #outerbanks fic #outer banks fic #obx fic #jj x fem!reader #jj maybank x fem!reader #fem!reader x jj #fem!reader x jj maybank

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baronessvonglitter · 3 months

Text

All Through the Night

Agent Whiskey x f! junior agent!reader

Word count: 4.4K

Summary: after it's made clear that you're not welcome as a Junior Agent for the Statesman organization, Whiskey takes you under his protection for an unforgettable night

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, mentor/mentee relationship, forbidden relationship, vandalism, nightmares, 'only one bed', first time, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, no use of y/n

JACK DANIELS MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

When you're first introduced to your mentor Agent Whiskey, you're not sure if you'll get along with him. With others he seems friendly, casual, laid-back, flirtatious even. But with you he takes on a sterner tone, as if he's closed off, and from the moment you're paired up as mentor and mentee, he treats you with nothing more than solemnity. Throughout your training he doesn't praise you as you honestly wish he would, just gives a curt nod, arms crossed, mouth set in a firm line, eyes giving nothing away.

It doesn't really help that you come from a rival agency, igniting all kinds of rumors. None of the other trainees get close to you. You find it pointless to try to change their minds. You've been alone most of your life, so why try to make friends now? Especially when you're in competition with each other.

You rise through the ranks quickly, an apt pupil and adroit agent. With each test you pass with flying colors, you expect something more from Jack Daniels himself to show he's proud of your progress, even just a smile, a pat on the shoulder, but he remains as unmoved as ever.

The day comes when you're given your official agent name, and in a flurry of excitement you rush to claim yours, only for your expression to turn quizzical when you hear what your new alias is. "What the hell is a Gimlet?" you finally ask as you burst into your mentor's office.

Jack glances up at you quickly, obviously in the middle of an important call, and tells the other line he'll call them back. You pick up on the ghost of a smile that passes his lips before he catches himself and turns serious again.

"Sorry," you tell him. "Is everything okay?"

He nods. "Classified information," is all he says. But you see the look of worry in his eyes, the way he casts his gaze upon you, you can't tell if he wants you to stay or needs you to leave.

"Was Gimlet your idea?" you accuse him, trying to lighten the mood.

"Nope. Wasn't my idea." As usual your heart does a triple beat at the sound of his deep voice, the Southern twang. Lately you've realized you've developed a little crush on him, but your education and your training are paramount at this point in your life. You can't be thinking about him this way, even though it's a hard feeling to suppress.

Uninvited, you sit on the edge of his desk, waiting for him to command you to get off. He doesn't. "Sounds like a Lord of the Rings character.. Gimlet.." you do a raspy little monster voice, and Jack crooks his eyebrow, looking like he wants to explode in laughter. "Sorry we can't all be as cool as Whiskey," you grin. "Oh, see that frown? Now that's what I call a Whiskey Sour."

He glares at you with mock severity and you take this moment to try to mess with him a little, to get him to open up.

"No-go on the Whiskey Sour, got it. How about 'Ten Gallon'? 'Billy the Kid'? 'Butch Cassidy?'" Teasing him is so much fun simply because you know he's an easy target, and it's as close as you've come to flirting with him.

He sighs in defeat. "You're thinking of 'Gimli.' From Lord of the Rings."

You shake your head, a smile bursting onto your lips. "Nerd."

"You really want me to lose this fight, don't you?"

"You've already lost, Roy Rogers." You playfully flick the brim of his hat.

A noticeable blush shows on his face as he straightens his hat, and as he clears his throat he adjusts himself in his chair. "So. You're using all the western ones, huh?"

"It's on theme, wouldn't you agree?"

He holds back a smirk. "Don't you have a codebreaking class to be in soon?" He stands up from his chair, adjusting his the waistband of his jeans, inadvertently drawing your attention to that area. Maybe you're imagining it, but it looks as though he's trying to hide the bulge evidencing his excitement.

Reluctantly you take the hint, getting off his desk. "So you're not going to tell me what that call was about? Shouldn't I be in the loop?"

Jack looks like he wants to spill the beans, his lips part as if to speak, and you can't help but imagine how soft those lips would feel against yours, what the slide of his tongue into your mouth would taste like. "All I can tell you is we're bumping up security on you. It's one of those 'the less you know, the better' type of deals, sweetheart."

It's the first time he's ever used a pet name for you and it sends the butterflies in your stomach in a frenzy. "Are you sure?" you ask, taking one more step towards him.

You hear him exhale, his dark brown eyes flickering with doubt. The moment between you feels like it could change everything. "I'm sure," he says at last.

You nod and start to leave, glad that at least a little progress had been made in that you got him to crack a smile.

"It's a cocktail," he says, and you turn back to look at him. "A gimlet.. it's made with gin, lime juice, and sugar."

A smile grows on your lips. "Sounds delicious.. but I really would prefer something cooler like 'French 75' or 'Absinthe.'"

"Adios, Junior Agent Gimlet.." Arms crossed, he signals it's time for you to skedaddle.

As you leave he can't help looking at your ass, the gentle sway of your hips. He's imagined all kinds of things since the day you were partnered with him, and he's managed to sequester those feelings from the way he's supposed to treat you. Times when you sought him out for his esteem, his recognition, he only fractioned it, hoping to keep the boundaries between you, make it easier on him to deny what he feels, but it's only made it worse.

Truth is, he's not only proud of you, but you've managed to get to him like no one has before. It's not just a protectiveness he feels towards you, but something deeper has grown. He hates to admit this to himself. And now, just before you made your animated entrance into his office, he was informed about a problem the agency was facing, one he couldn't share with you, at least not yet. Hell, even telling you to be careful would just set you on alarm, so he has to pretend everything is fine while you're unaware. While he's well aware you can handle your own, he just wants to keep you out of harm's way.

The rest of the day you can't help noticing that he's there, nearby. He's there when you're at lunch in the dining area, when you're studying in the library, when you're at weapons training. Not that you mind at all. You approach him towards the end of the day as you're headed back towards your dorm. "You're my security detail, aren't you?"

"You figured that out pretty quick."

"You're not exactly stealthy," you smirk.

"That stings, darlin'. But I'm not supposed to be stealthy. Just need to keep you safe."

"You're still not going to tell me why?"

He just shakes his head as he walks you to your room.

You sigh. "Are you going to stay out here all night? Like a guard or something?"

"If that's what I have to do."

It should bother you that you don't have much privacy, that your every move is going to be monitored. You assume it has something to do with your previous agency, but there's a small part of you that lacks the courage to address it. Looking at Jack, you wonder if he suspects you of wrongdoing, or if he's simply following orders.

"Good night then," you shrug. "Just remember: you'd be bored without me." Playfully sticking your tongue at him you slip inside your room.

"I'd go insane without you," he whispers just as your door clicks shut.

Not a few seconds later, he hears you calling his name, and he rushes inside to find you frozen, staring at your ransacked room. Upended furniture, your personal belongings thrown and scattered around. Drawers emptied and tossed aside. Your bed torn apart, your mirrors broken.

Questions form in your mouth but die on your lips. You have no idea who and even less idea of why. Jack immediately jumps into action, calling for a full sweep of the room for any evidence the intruder or intruders may have left behind. Meanwhile, feeling helpless, you stand out in the hallway, arms folded over your chest as the security team hurries in to investigate. You're asked to come in to check if anything was stolen, but seeing the few precious items you have still intact in your hiding place, you come to the conclusion that whoever did this was just out to scare you.

"Do they usually do things like this?" you mumble as Jack waits with you in the hallway. Some of the other junior agents are peeking out to see what's going on, and upon seeing your death glare they go back inside their dorms. "Seems petty to initiate someone by doing something so cruel."

"Sweetheart, I don't think it was no initiation," he says. "I'm pretty sure you don't think that either."

It finally catches up to you, the loneliness you've suppressed, the emotions you've had to swallow because you wanted your work to be your life. The friends you didn't make have now all turned to possible enemies. It's the loneliest feeling you've ever had.

"I'm not gonna let anything happen to you," Jack tells you, and to your surprise he kisses your forehead. "I'm here. And I'm not letting you out of my sight."

You nod, grateful for his assuring words. "I thought I didn't care, but I just hate feeling so unwanted here," you swallow the tears that threaten to fall, having kept strong for so long.

Watching you like this is a dagger to his heart. You're usually so upbeat, so full of sass, and this incident bringing you this low really breaks him. He wipes your tears away. Your fear is normal, and even though he can't promise to remove it completely, he wants to at least make you feel a little better. "This is why I don't want.. just the thought of you being in danger.."

Your eyes grow wide as you stamp down the hope that he's speaking from anything more than a mentor standpoint. "Danger is what you're training me for.. why don't you want me near it?"

Jack clenches his jaw. He doesn't want to admit what goes against all rational thought, against all logic. He's protective because of how he feels about you. When did he become such a weak fool? He inhales and exhales slowly, hardening his features to hide his emotions. "I just don't like the thought of you getting hurt."

All you can do is absorb this information and store it away to think about another day. "I don't want to stay in there. The whole room feels.. violated." You cross your arms, shivering.

His mouth is dry as he asks, "Do you want to come spend the night in my room? It's safe, no one's getting in there. I'll keep watch the entire night."

Blinking, you grasp what he's offering. "Only if it's really okay with you."

"Your room is so you," you compliment, looking at the decor as Jack brings you inside his room. "Very masculine. Very John Wayne." The walls are decorated with buffalo prints and mounted longhorn steer antlers, and above you there are wooden ceiling beams, which draw your attention to the adobe fireplace in the corner of the room. Both woven and cowhide rugs lay at various places on the floor. You take from him the bundle of clothing and hygienic necessities you brought from your room and go into his restroom to quickly change and wash up for the night.

"So, where should I sleep?" you ask, emerging from the restroom.

"You take the bed," he says gruffly. "I'll take the sofa," he says, already making himself comfortable.

"You're sure?" You start to feel bad for disrupting his peace.

"Of course I'm sure. Where else you gonna sleep? The closet?"

You laugh a little, starting to feel more at ease. "In that case.." you tentatively climb into his bed, done in western prints, the headboard made of brown leather.

He watches you get into his bed. There's a certain gracefulness to the everyday action. Damn if everything about you doesn't arouse him. He has to take a deep breath to keep himself grounded. But it's his bed you're getting into, your skin touching his sheets, your head resting on his pillow. He clenches his jaw.

"Aren't you going to sleep?" you ask.

"I can stay awake all night if I have to. Make sure you're safe."

"Whiskey, you don't have to do that.."

A little smile crosses his lips. "Then I'll sleep once you're asleep."

"Once I'm asleep just get in with me. This is your room and I'm not going to kick you out of your own bed."

His heart beats double-time at your suggestion. There's no way she can possibly mean that he tells himself. "I'm fine here," he says, nearly choking on his words.

You nod against his pillow, which has his scent. "Well if you change your mind.. this mattress is heavenly." You close your eyes and shift your hips so you can lay on your side.

Damn it. That isn't something he needs to hear. He doesn't need your voice to sound so damn alluring like that. The way your hips roll as you shift position is sending his mind to places he doesn't need to go right now. He takes his eyes off you just to alleviate the flow of blood to his dick, which is already pretty hard.

It's late when he realizes you're finally deeply asleep. From where he rests on the sofa he watches you sleep, admires your beauty in the dim light of the room. He doesn't realize he's also fallen asleep until he hears you cry out in your sleep, your body tossing about. He jolts awake and goes to you, wraps his arms around you as if to shield you from your nightmares. "Sweetheart, wake up," he says gently. "I've got you."

You wake, shivering, your nightmare still looming large in your mind's eye until Jack's soothing embrace eases you back to reality. "It was so real," you mutter, taking a gulp of water from a glass that he offers you. "Would you.. would you get in with me? I just need to be held right now."

He hesitates only a moment before getting in on the other side of the bed. You slide over to make room, then scoot back towards him, allowing him to pull you close with his arm around you.

And damn it if he doesn't love the way you feel against him.

Not asleep yet, you let your body get into a comfortable place, basking in the warmth of his body, your hands resting on his, settled just below your chest. Without thinking about it, you trace the outlines of his fingers, his hands much larger than yours. His other hand is just above your hip, warm, pleasant.

Actually, 'pleasant' is too gentle a word to describe it. It's an intimate touch without being too forward. So many intrusive thoughts come to your mind. And in this rare moment of closeness, you let them win.

Closing your eyes you take a deep, silent breath as you take his hand from your hip and lead it lower, beneath the hem of your pajama shorts. Jack gives a little growl, indulging in the feel of your soft, smooth skin against his fingertips. "We shouldn't be doin' this," he whispers as his hand stills. You can feel the thumping of his heartbeat against your back. "We're breaking a lot of rules right now, just bein' here like this."

You can't help feeling a little guilty. You got yourself into this mess and all he did was try to pull you out. And now you were just a huge inconvenience, apart from also being a huge temptation. "No one would know but us," you tell him, turning on your side to face him. "I know you're my mentor, but I'm not a child. I want this."

He's quiet a moment, looking into your eyes, and for a moment you fear he will reprimand you, turn you down. It would be the worst embarrassment you can imagine. But then he leans in and kisses you, softly at first then with more pressure, and your lips part for his tongue as yours presses against his.

His hands make their way down your body, trailing across your skin as if you're the most delicate thing he's ever seen. Your hips rise up, inviting his touch, and damn it if he isn't ready to just rip your clothes off. Your body buzzes with exhilaration as Jack presses kisses down your neck, your chest, all the way down to give a kiss on your hip. "Is this okay?" he asks, breath shallow as his eyes search yours.

"Yes," comes your whimpering reply, and your breath hitches in your throat when he traces the border where your pajama shorts meet your thigh, and he slowly pulls them down. You arch your back, lifting your hips to help him, and your panties and shorts come off in one go as he slides them down your thighs until he removes them completely.

"I want to see all of you," he whispers, and you nod, pulling up your top, completely exposed to him. You watch him with wide eyes, awaiting his reaction.

Jack licks his lips, looking as though he could devour you. But he takes his time, his fingers slowly tracing up your torso, gently cupping your breasts and grazing his thumb across your nipples. Your sweet little gasp sends sparks firing in his eyes. "You're so sensitive to my touch," he whispers, as if witnessing a miracle. He laps his tongue over each bud, pursing his lips around it and groaning in need as you moan, lifting your hips to his. Even through his night clothes he can feel your heat, your moisture. "I need to taste you," he growls.

"Wait," you whisper. "I need to tell you.. I've never done this before."

This is something he doesn't expect. You always seem so sure of yourself, so direct in what you want, that he never would have thought you'd be inexperienced. "You really want me to be your first?" he asks, growing excited at the prospect of being with you.

"I want this.. with you," you assure him. "There's no one I trust more."

That's all he needs to hear from you. You're giving yourself to him, trusting him. "That means the world to me," he tells you. And with that, he doesn't hesitate. His hands move down your waist, across your hips and between your thighs. Spurred on by your shuddering sigh, he traces your slick folds with his fingertips until you beg him to finally touch you deeper. He eases two fingers in and out, his thumb tracing circular motions over you clit, barely restraining a growl as you eagerly clamp down on his digits. He watches, rapt, as you bite your lip to keep from moaning. He wants to give you more, to make you see stars while he's showing you what it can be like between lovers.

You feel like a god damn queen the moment he slips further down between your legs, gently raising them and getting himself settled. Heart hammering wildly, you gasp as you feel his tongue on your clit, gently sweeping over the sensitive flesh as he continues to work his fingers in and out. On a gasp your fingers grab his hair, causing him to growl and cup your butt with both hands as he resumes his attention on you, tongue flicking over your clit, along your folds, dipping into your crease, lapping up your sweet honey as if he's never going to have another meal ever again. Your blood grows hot and you're unable to even think of anything else but the burgeoning pleasure, and just when you think you might explode from need, the sweet, pulsing feeling takes over. You cry out loud, quivering as Jack makes you come.

He pulls away slowly once you're done, pressing gentle kisses on the insides of your thighs, working his way back up your body with his lips. "You okay there, darlin'? Need a minute to collect yourself?"

You nod, laughing a little, on the verge of giggles because your body has just experienced something so wonderful. "I'm good.. I'm perfect.." you manage to say, and there's a light in your eyes that affirms this.

"You are perfect, we are in agreement on that," he smiles, tucking a stray strand of hair away from your face, still flushed from your orgasm.

"Jack," you whisper, using his given name for the first time. "I'm ready.. I want you."

There's a delicious urgency as you help him remove his night clothes. His masculine build exceeds anything you have fantasized about him. His chest is broad with a sprinkling of light brown hair on his chest, and more of that curly hair leads from his navel down to his cock, which he encourages you to touch. It's thick, warm, heavy in your hand, growing more firm with each little stroke you give him.

You both have a need required to be met, but Jack wants to do this slowly, to build it up and make it the best possible experience for you. He has a strong desire to tear into you but he restrains himself, opting instead to kiss you softly, pressing himself to your warmth. He wants you to be a complete puddle for him to take care of once he's finished with you.

As he explores your body you explore his, running your hands over his muscled arms and back, savoring every part. You whimper as he pulls you closer, and your heart gallops. Before he loses himself in the moment, Jack reaches into his bedside drawer for a condom and carefully puts it on, then goes back to kissing you, gently nudging your thighs apart to make room for him. "If you want to stop, tell me," he says to you, and you reply with a kiss, eagerly bringing your body to his and he has no other thought in his head than to make you his once and for all.

Your eyes lock with his as he presses forward, easing himself in just a little at a time. Jesus, the pressure is so sweet, he's only an inch or so in and already he's stretching you. "I'm gonna take it easy with ya, cowgirl," he whispers, pulling out then easing back in, wanting you to be as wet as possible so you can take all of him. Your sweet, sharp little intakes of breath let him know you're feeling good, that you need more, and with each stroke he goes in deeper, until you're completely filled with him, as if you've needed him this way forever, as if you'd been born just to be his.

"You feel so good," you tell him, placing a kiss upon his neck, the skin of his throat rosy with the labor of holding back.

He sighs. eyes closed then open again because he wants to see you laid out beneath him this way. "God, you feel so right.." He moves his hips against you in slow, fluid movements, and in turn you take more of him into you, giving him a home within you. Jack's lips move over yours, then nuzzle your neck, tracing circular patterns over your breasts and back again, while your hands explore his broad shoulders, his brawny arms and the steady pacing of the pistoning of his hips driving against yours as the euphoria within your heart swells. "There's my good girl.. ah, such a tight fit.. but you're so nice and wet for me.."

"More," you gasp, nails lightly scratching on his back, and he gives you just that, taking your breath away as your bodies move together, quickly, towards your common goal. The electricity grows between you, the sweet, sweet friction doubles in your efforts, eliciting desperate moans and sweet gasps. Jack can feel the tension growing within you, the excitement building up to its greatest height. Jack whispers, "That's it, my sweet darlin', come for me.. oh I can feel you squeezin' all around me.." You whisper his name in a frenzy of desire, whisper it like a prayer as you feel the pleasure climb higher and higher. Without warning you shatter beneath him, crying out as you come.

Your sounds are the most divine music ever played. He can no longer hold back, gaining momentum as he brings himself to the tipping point, burying his face in your neck when he comes, releasing with a satiated exhale. You hold onto him, both of you trying to catch your breath, and you press a kiss to his shoulder. He looks up and smiles at you. "You doin' okay, darlin'?" he asks. His body is still but he remains inside of you, wanting to keep the feeling a little longer.

"I think I can die happy having experienced that with you," you sigh, tracing the outline of his jaw.

"You're too sweet," he shakes his head, grinning like a fool as he kisses your lips. "And I'd be more than happy to do that again and again.."

"Oh?" Your heart jumps for joy. "I suppose I could find time for that to happen," you tease him.

Jack smiles and nibbles on your neck. "Good, because I can think up a few other things to try."

You blush, despite still being naked and entangled with him. "What kinds of things?"

"Things like new positions, new places.. maybe once you're comfortable you'll let me tie you down and give you a little tease.." he smirks. "You know, just a few thoughts," he says casually with a gleam in his eye before kissing you gently.

"Holy hell," you whisper, utterly turned on again as you return his kiss. "I can't wait.."

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

#pedro pascal #agent jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #agent whiskey smut #kingsman golden circle #mentor x mentee #only one bed #ao3 smut #ao3 fanfic

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anundyingfidelity · 6 months

Text

YES, MA’AM — Sam Winchester/Sam Wesson ft. Dean Winchester/Dean Smith (Chapter I)

Summary: Sam is the new tech support guy at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc., and he thinks you, his supervisor, are related to him in ways more than professional. He not only dreams of ghosts and Dean Smith, the sales and marketing director, but you, the pretty boss who seems very fond of him, maybe a little too much.

Word count: 1.3k.

Pairing: Sam W./Sam Wesson x female reader (main), Dean W./Dean Smith x female reader. Situated in 4x17 - It's a Terrible Life.

Warnings for this series: smut with plot, sexual tension, sub!Sam, dom!reader, switch!Dean, co-workers with benefits with Dean, boss/employee dynamics, canon violence and stuff. Slow updates oops.

Notes: welcome to my very first spn fanfic, hope you enjoy this short series of Sam and Dean!

If you'd like to be added, the taglist is here!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

Chapter I | Chapter II

Chapter I: A Boring Life

Taking a quick look at the clock on the corner of the screen of his computer, Sam let out a long sigh. Lunch hour was far from near. He continued drawing the monsters he saw in his dreams on the notebook, those who wouldn't let him continue his abnormally boring and stupid life.

"Hey, Sam," a voice called, making him jump slightly on his seat.

He cleared his throat shutting the notebook and sitting right this time as he took in your figure towering over him in the cubicle with a smile on your lips.

"Hi, uhm... Is something wrong?"

You chuckled slightly. He wanted to slap himself for saying that. For Sam, bosses coming to him meant he might have done something wrong. He didn't want to know what he screwed up. Barely three weeks have passed since he started working there. As much as things were strange and weird around, Sam just wanted a quiet life.

"Not at all," you answered in a friendly manner. "Actually I just wanted to give you kudos. I've received good compliments from customers who called for help, you're doing excellent!"

Sam breathed out, feeling a heavy weight on his back dropping. He smiled. "Well, thank you. It feels good doing that."

But a raise or something would feel absolutely better, he thought.

"Sure! You're brilliant, have you ever been told that?"

"Uhm, not here. I mean- I want to say you're the first one. Sorry, the first one to say I'm brilliant, I- uhm I never really got kudos before? I don't think so but it does feel great."

He stumbled so much with his words that it made you laugh a little but he noticed you tried to suppress it. So you gave him a nod.

"Yeah, of course. I also see you're very organized with your stuff and reports," you remarked before taking a quick glance around and leaning a little bit toward him, your face morphing into a shy look. "Probably I shouldn't but could you help me with some reports today? You'd be off the phone, I just really need to send them by the end of the day and I'm extremely busy."

You bit your painted lower lip with big doe eyes, waiting for an answer. Since the first day he saw you around the company, he thought you looked extremely familiar. Like he had seen you before. Hell, it was like he knew you ages ago. But he wouldn't say it out loud, he might look like a creep.

You'd usually come like this to his spot just to talk and get into business, sometimes he'd go to ask you something he wasn't sure about from a call, but he never, ever herd from a complaint or that his work was shit from you. In fact, you were very kind and smart, always letting him know you were there if he needed anything. And you were pretty. So damn beautiful that you got his heart agitated and his body aching when you bent over a desk wearing tight black pencil skirts and those matching high stockings. He began to think probably you liked him but you used to get close to all of your employees on the tech support floor. You were just being nice to everyone.

"Uh, sure. I can do that," Sam curved his lips into a smile.

"Thank you, you're a lifesaver! I'll send you those in your email, ask me anything if it's difficult, okay?"

You responded with happy demeanour and quickly walked away back to your office, leaving him alone before he had the moment to say something. Just two minutes later he received an email from you with a bunch of reports and data to organize.

Sam scanned the files quickly while hearing the sounds of a chair rolling to his side.

"I think she likes you, man," Ian, the messy and chill coworker of his, teased. Sam chuckled.

"Nah, she's just nice to everyone. Besides, she needs help."

Suddenly, a notification popped from the side of his screen on the computer.

It was a message from you. It read:

Put on the headphones and listen to some music if you want ;)

"You were saying?" Ian joked again.

He smiled. Well, at least he'd be off the phone. Shouldn't be that hard, right?

The night fell and Sam found himself alone on his desk at eight o'clock working on your reports. Seeing the long reports and files he thought could make it on time to finish his shift at four and leave on time. It was fucking Friday. Poor him.

At least you ordered delivery for dinner for both of you. The good thing was that he wasn't really alone on the floor, you were in your office but soft music played as you worked on your stuff. Moments later, you found yourself sitting by Sam's side as he worked the final things on the last report.

"It's done," he announced, his body falling to the backrest of his chair.

"Thanks," you whispered shyly as he sent the finished files back to you. "I'm so sorry though, it's so late."

"Well, didn't have anything to do either."

"Really?!"

Your surprise made his eyes fall on you. He shrugged. "Just sleep."

You raised your eyebrows. "I thought maybe a girlfriend was waiting for you or something?"

He shook his head, pressing his lips together. "No, nothing like that."

The question was odd coming from you, so he decided to play a little.

"What about you?"

This time you shook your head. "Just my books and my TV."

Sam hummed. "It's a boring life, isn't it?"

"Yeah, well I get to pay my bills by the end of the month... And I meet nice people here... And I see you- Sorry."

You cut off your words all of a sudden, your eyes blinking rapidly saying you realized what you just said.

"My bad. We should get going."

You gave him a smile to try and brush off your words, but they were strong enough to get in Sam's head unnoticed. He watched you walk away, turning your computer and lights off on your office as Sam did the same on his spot. Once done, you walked out the floor together in silence.

"Thank you again. I don't think no one would ever do this for me here," you admitted with a deep exhale.

"Yeah, no problem," Sam smiled kindly as you got closer to the elevator.

"Really, I owe you. Do you have a car to get home or something? I can give you a ride if you need."

"I do, don't worry," he said as you stopped in front of the elevator, the doors opening.

"Great, so I think this is it," you grinned at him. "Have a good night."

"Thanks. I hope you have a good weekend, boss."

You nodded. "You too, Sam. Take care."

He saw you disappearing inside the elevator with a wave of your hand and a beautiful smile on your face. With a sigh, he made his way to the locker room and took his briefcase and stuff out. It was just a couple of minutes that he saw you leaving when he went back to the elevator. Checking his watch, the lift arrived and before he could get inside, he got a shocking picture in front of him.

Dean Smith, the marketing director, had you pinned against the wall and kissing down your neck. Your blouse unbuttoned, skirt up, lips open and eyes closed in bliss. Dean noticed the doors were open, pulling away his plump lips from your skin.

"Sorry buddy, wrong floor," he beamed and pushed the right button.

When you opened your eyes once again, you met Sam's open mouth and wide eyes as the doors closed. Great, now he might think you're a slut.

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x female reader #sam x reader #sam winchester smut #sam winchester imagines #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean x reader x sam #sam wesson #dean smith #supernatural fanfiction

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absolutekillswitch · 9 months

Text

no alarms and no surprises (please)

pairing: luke castellan x thanatos!reader

tw: major TLO spoilers (honestly tho if u haven’t read it yet, begone), major character death, discussions of blood and death, Luke was reader’s first kiss, mentions of past manipulation, lots of crying, and also i made [REDACTED] take way too long to die for the sake of dialogue. Sorry. Also! she/her pronouns are used, but I tried to steer clear of descriptors outside of that so this SHOULD be woc friendly

word count: 3.4k

It was cruel, this end he was facing. Y/N had felt it long before she’d seen it, that deep intrinsic tug within her, that sixth sense that had begun to go haywire since New York had fallen asleep, since the final countdown for western civilization had officially started running. The tug that alerted her to a new death in her vicinity. The curse bore by the children of death, the chained god, to feel the string of fate being cut, to sense lost souls being carried to the underworld by their father. To mourn, but not to see. She’d never felt it as frequently as she did now, feeling like threads tugging her in countless directions, so much so that her aim with her sword was affected. She’d been coined the best swordsman back at camp, after the previous titleholder had vacated the position, but now, it was like she was jittery, like a newborn zebra with a sword in their grasp, trying to learn how to stand and fight all at once, her battle senses being overridden by the unavoidable emotional pain of the fact that every tug she was feeling, was the feeling of a fellow demigod dying.

But then she’d felt that one.

The strength of this particular tug wasn’t lost on her. It was stronger than any she’d faced yet— stronger than the tugs of those she’d slain herself, and stronger than the tugs of those who had been close to her, when they were alive. It was so strong that the metaphysical tug had felt like a real, physical one, like she was physically being pulled in its direction. The proof of it is the crude slash on her forearm, where the kid she’d been fighting back had gotten a lucky shot on her due to her presently distracted nature.

It had to have been him.

She wasn’t sure just who she’d been fighting, and in the end, she doesn’t think it really mattered all that much, if they were a former camper; a demigod, or if they were an armored monster, as with a wave of her hand, the ground rumbles, opening up under their feet, boney, decayed hands dragging them into the earth, only for the ground to close up on them halfway through their forced descent. Y/N didn’t even notice, nor did she really care. All she knew was that she’d put an end to her own fight, allowing her feet to carry her to his side, numbness flooding her body, with a whispered command to her undead soldiers,

“Protect them.”

She’s not even sure how she found him, exactly. She’d just always been able to find him like that. Now seemed to be no exception to the rule, as she followed what she would consider to be the string of fate to his side. The sight she sees when she does is an unwelcome one, however. There’s three of them— she sees Percy and Annabeth crowded around a figure on the ground. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it is.

“Oh, Gods,” Y/N whispers, hesitating to get closer. She doesn’t know if she can. At the sound of her voice, Percy turns. He looks pale, eyes ringed in red. It looks like he’d been crying, exhausted, eyes wide, as if he were afraid he’d collapse if he even blinked. Y/N wouldn’t blame him, if he did.

“Y/N—“ He hesitates to speak, to try and explain, but Y/N doesn’t let him. She’s already marching over, ignoring the dread building in her gut, the tears in her eyes. And that’s when she sees him.

“Luke,” She whispers, the single word bordering on a gasp. Internally, she’s vaguely aware that this is the first time she’d used his name in years, preferring to call him by his last name, or traitor, at best, or whatever random curse she could think of at the time, at worst. She’d gotten pretty good at it, honestly— the coming up with insults to hurl at him every time they’d crossed paths since his betrayal. But now, all of that is gone. It seems that at that moment, Annabeth and Percy disappeared. It’s just them as she crumbles, falling to her knees before he can even protest. It’s him, not Kronos, she knows. They’d all learned how to tell the difference between the two, when Kronos had taken Luke’s face. Kronos had a colder air about him, eyes golden. Just pure evil that seeped into your bones, that seemed to change even the people around you. But this? This was Luke Castellan. Soft, soulful brown eyes, and a welcoming air about him. This was the guy who had been like all of Camp Half-Blood’s big brother. This was the guy Y/N had been in love with ever since she’d arrived at camp, even if she realized it far too late. Even if he was currently trying to get Percy to make her leave, not wanting her to see him like this. Never like this. Her eyes take stock of his appearance against her will. He looked just as bad as Percy did— worse, actually, given he was bleeding, Annabeth’s knife clattering from his hand to the marble below him. It makes her heart ache, the picture in front of her painted so clearly, even if she hadn’t been present to see it herself.

A hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap.

They’d realized what the prophecy meant, clearly. Luke had to be the one to take Kronos— and to an extent, himself— out. And when Luke had done it, when he’d touched his own Achilles heel, Kronos had run. So now, Luke Castellan was dying. Alone.

Well— not alone.

She was still here. She always would be, even if he’d insist otherwise. He hated how she always had made him want to be a better person. Even now, as he lay dying, covered in sweat, blood, and ash. If she tries hard enough, she can almost pretend that they’re back at camp, that they’d had an extremely rough day playing capture the flag, that the pair of them are in the infirmary, making up ridiculous stories for the scars they’ll have as a result of their adventure, shedding tears from their short lived pain in the name of glory but laughing anyway as they stitched each other up, letting the Apollo kids deal with those who didn’t have someone to back them up like Y/N and Luke did— someone to dote on them, and someone to dote on in return. But it gets hard, keeping up this fantasy. They’re both far too battle-worn, both with eyes that had seen far too much, faces years older than they were the last time they’d seen each other. And in spite of it all, all she can find herself thinking is,

‘Oh, love, you grew up without me’.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Luke tells her plainly, his brown eyes fighting to focus on her through his tears that he’s fighting to push back. Had they always done that?

“Yet I’m here anyway. Deal.” She responds, brows furrowing, focusing on the wound in his side. Prophecies be damned, she won’t let him die. He sits up straighter, slumped uncomfortably against a marble wall at the sudden pressure to his side, the daughter of Thanatos trying to staunch the blood flow, trying to give him more time, tears clouding her own vision, hands shaking. She knows deep down that it’s all in vain, but she won’t let him go. Not like this. She’ll fight her father back herself, if she had to.

“Y/N…” He whispers uncomfortably, hating how blood spurts past his lips, onto his chin, as he utters her name. He’s going to die, he knows, he can almost feel the fates beginning to prepare to cut his thread, but there’s some things he can’t leave unsaid. “My— my heart, it was always yours. You know that, right?” He notices how she flinches, expression troubled. “Take care of it, for me. I know you’ll do better with it than I ever had.” It’s true— his entire time at camp, since she’d arrived, he’d stupidly ignored it. He let hate and anger and jealousy cloud his mind for so long, he never really appreciated what was in front of him. It was just unfortunate it was taking his death to realize that.

“Don’t— don’t say that, not to me,” she sobs, shaking hands still covering his wound, stupidly, naively, believing she could still save him. “Don’t make it sound like you’re dying. You’re not dying, damn it,” she still sounds determined, one hand leaving his wound to touch his face, holding his cheek, accidentally staining it with his own blood. “Don’t— don’t leave me here, please, I just got you back,” she pleads, glassy eyes blurring with tears. She thinks, honestly, that this is the first time she’s talking to just Luke, free of Kronos’ influence, since he’d stolen that lightning bolt from Olympus years ago. It’s the Luke she remembers, the one she so sorely missed.

He laughed quietly, reaching up to touch her fingers. Even now, as she was sobbing over him, unable to look him in the eye, she’s the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her lips were so plump — as if made to be kissed, even in this moment of peril. “The gods might not want me, but I’m glad they’ve given you to me,” he whispered, squeezing her hand in his again. “I’m dying, Y/N. You can’t save me.” This makes her squeeze her eyes closed, shaking her head lightly, as if she isn’t listening. She isn’t, not really.

“No, nononono— stop that,” She cries, her eyes squinting shut in an effort to banish her tears, but it doesn’t work. “I’m— I’m the daughter of Thanatos, damn it, what good am I if I can’t do this? If I can’t keep just one person alive?” She seems to be talking mostly to herself, not giving up her mission on keeping him with her. Not after everything that’s been said, not with everything that’s being left unsaid. “I know this isn’t what I do, that I’m not a fucking sunshiney Apollo kid who can heal someone on a whim. But this is kinda my thing, is it not? Just… Just one. Please, let me save just this one. I’ll never ask for anything again.” She’s looking up at the sky— praying, it looked like, while blinking away her own tears. She couldn’t remember the last time she prayed to the gods for anything, but she was now. To anyone who would listen, though Luke gets the sneaking suspicion she’s talking to her father. The one she blamed, for being unable to save anyone. She couldn’t heal, the best she could do was sit by and watch.

Luke laughed again, but it’s humorless— and it was so cruel, to die when he could feel his heartbeat quickening as Y/N was so close, her lips so near to his, her eyes so lovely. He wished he could kiss her right now, in this moment, on the marble floor, with blood running over his fingers and the dagger still next to them.

“Y/N, promise me one thing?”

“Anything,” Y/N nods softly, her attention turning back to him. She hates how the simple act of saying her name still affected her so much, after all this time. Her tears were cutting through the grime on her face from a hard fought battle, covered in her own and the blood of others, trembling. Still, she finds it in her to make a promise to the dying boy she loved. “Anything. Just—“ she drifts off, nodding, knowing they don’t have time. Luke took a breath, his eyes fluttering shut. For the first time in his life, he genuinely felt like a young man. A teenage boy, holding his girlfriend's hand and wanting nothing but her to keep safe. For a moment, he can pretend. But only for a moment. His breath hitched, and slowly, he felt the life fading from his body — as if it was being drawn from him like water in a cup. He hesitates to speak, but knows he’s running out of time. He can feel it, being sapped from his bones. But in spite of that, he’s not… afraid. He isn’t angry. He almost isn’t even in pain. He thinks it’s her, that it’s Y/N’s aura as a daughter of Thanatos, that no one in her vicinity will feel pain, a divine remainder of her father’s power flowing in her veins, the guide to the underworld, before they’d meet the ferryman. A walking shot of morphine. He’s heard stories from his spies, about how when Camp would lose a camper during their fight with Kronos— with him—, Y/N would stay with them until they passed, holding their hand, telling stories, bringing them peace, so they would go out with a kind face. Much like she was doing now, for him. The Thanatos of the waking world, the guiding light to death. It’s much more than he deserves, and he knows it.

"Promise me.... you'll meet me again... at the River Styx," He whispered.

“I’ll find you in Elysium.” She promises softly through sniffles, brushing his hair out of his face, a forced soft smile on her own face. She wants him to go out peacefully, wants to remember her smiling, even if she wants to scream at the sky and cry until she couldn’t breathe anymore. She’d been pretty good at it, feigning calmness and serenity with the campers they lost on their own side. It made their passing easier. But this? With him? She doesn’t know if it does. He’d always been far too good at reading her, for that. “I swear it, on the Styx, that I’ll find you in Elysium.” She sounds sure of herself, that even after everything he’d done, he’d earned a hero’s afterlife. That’s what the prophecy said, after all, right? Somehow, she knows she, too, will find herself with a hero’s death. Life wouldn’t be so kind to allow her to die of old age. She’d die hard, with a sword in her hand, and anger in her heart. Luke's eyes flickered open to meet the softness of hers, of lips he wanted to taste, of skin he wanted to cover with kisses. For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of mourning the future he could’ve had with this girl, if he hadn’t been so hellbent on his never ending quest for glory.

Kleos. The word feels like poison, now. Maybe it always had been.

"No —" He whispered, head shaking lightly, "I won't be in Elysium. I’ll go to Asphodel—" He choked. That's where he'd likely be, being punished for his treason. It’s the least he deserved, after everything he’d done. "— and then the Fields of Punishment. But promise me... that you will wait for me, at the River."

“No,” Y/N shakes her head, adamant. He should probably take her word for it— she’s the daughter of the god of death, after all. She had a sense for these things. “Elysium. I’m sure of it. You’ve earned it.” She promises, tone soft. She doesn’t mention how she’d never let her father live it down if anything else took place. She’d tear Hades apart herself, find his soul and bring him back, somehow. Like Orpheus and Eurydice, except she’d succeed. “Regardless— it doesn’t matter. I’ll always find you. No matter where you are, I’ll find you. I swear it.”

He laughed, and it was a sad one. He was so weak, so very weak, his eyes flickering once more, his hand squeezing hers as tightly as he could, wanting to burn her imprint into his flesh. "You are so stubborn, you know that? You always have been," he whispered. Images flash through his mind against his will— her face, always her face. When she’d learned of his betrayal, then later when he’d attempted to sway her to his side. When they would train together in the arena— camp’s two best swordsmen. When she’d have nightmares, constant images of the dead trying to use her, both for her powers and as revenge on her father, who they felt claimed them from the mortal plane far too soon, to crawl their way back to the world of the living, and how, terrified of closing her eyes again, she’d crawl into his bed with him, the only place she felt safe enough to fall back asleep. When she’d kissed him for the first time, on her seventeenth birthday. Because ‘most demigods don’t get to make it to seventeen, so I’m making seventeen count’, as she’d put it. Then, later that night, after his surprise wore off, when he had kissed her. It pains him to think about how he’d only been manipulating her, back then. Had he loved her? Sure, but his mission always seemed more important at the time. He’d do it for them, he’d told himself. The gods would regret every unclaimed child, and every claimed child resigned to the Hermes cabin because they weren’t born with the luxury of having a parent that had a throne on Olympus, one of the big twelve. For kids like Y/N. His hand slipped from hers, and he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes. Instead, he'd watch her, as if he could lock her into his memory. "Will you... will you stay here with me, until my life..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

“Until the very end.” She promises softly, her voice cracking with the effort not to cry. She’d almost given up on trying to staunch the bleeding, one hand resting on his face, brushing languidly, lovingly, over his cheek, just around the edge of his scar. She’s not sure what possessed her in that moment, as she leans down, placing a soft, chaste, yet romantic kiss to his lips. After all, he’d been her first kiss, it felt fitting that she would also be his last. As she pulls away, she whispers against his lips, “I love you, Luke Castellan.”

He was breathless, the kiss like a dagger to the chest, biting deeper than the blade that will end up taking his life. In a matter of minutes, his heartbeat would skip its last beat, and her face will be the last he sees, the last thought on his mind. His hand came up to the back of her neck, holding her as he whispered in return, "... I love you too." He managed only that, before his heart failed him. He was gone, and he didn't make a sound.

Gone with a whimper, not a bang.

The blood that fell from his wound was now staining the pristine marble flooring beneath them, the last remnants of life and love, of devotion and betrayal. Y/N hoped that it would stain forever, a constant reminder of his sacrifice.

Y/N felt his final breath fan across her face, and she knew he was gone. Her eyes remained closed, steady tears rolling down her face, their foreheads pressed together. She can feel him growing cold as she sobs. “No,” She whimpers, his hands, now gone limp, still in hers. “No, please no—“ Vaguely, she’s aware of the rumbling of the ground under her feet, a telltale sign of her powers coming out to play, a throng of undead soldiers aching to burst past the earth’s mantle, to await her command. Her face screws up into an expression of anguish, though she forces the feeling down, knowing that if she didn’t reel in her own emotion, her legion of death wouldn’t hesitate to grab every demigod in her vicinity and drag them into the earth, to take their place in the afterlife. Maybe they’d take her, too. Maybe she hoped they would.

The thing about being the daughter of death, was that when a soul left a body and you were near enough to it, you could feel them leaving the mortal plane, accompanied by her father to the underworld. She could feel it, feel him, Luke’s soul leaving his body. She always did, with the campers they lost during the war, but this one hits too close to home. It’s a startling, chilling, terrifying feeling, that only makes her sob harder, knowing the boy she loved was now in her father’s hands, and out of her own. This was always the hardest part. “Take care of him for me, pops,” she whispers, voice trembling, knowing her father was with Luke’s soul right now, the pair watching over her mourning over Luke’s body. As that realization passes over her, she sits up straight, a ragged scream of mourning threatening to tear her vocal cords apart. In the background, she’s vaguely aware of the voice of Percy Jackson speaking,

“We need a shroud. A shroud for the son of Hermes.”

Notes: and with that, we’re done. This was super fun! I feel like I could go on forever about Luke x Grim Reader (I’m calling them deadwings/grimwings), and if there’s enough of a demand, I just might. Feedback is obviously appreciated !! Drink some water, hug a friend, and don’t forget to pirate PJO 🫶

#JAZZ HANDDSS #happy Friday have some soul shattering angst #and for my next trick I’ll disappear into obscurity never to be heard from again #jk #unless???#pjo x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan angst #luke castellan x you #PJO angst #x reader #PJO imagine

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earthworms-worm · 1 year

Text

The three types of Dwellers with their canonical height going from tallest to shortest so far are; Meadow Dwellers, Forest Dwellers and Mountain dwellers!

I'll expand on their lore later and experiment with more characters/colours soon!

I'm not sure how good the quality will be since I'm uploading this from my laptop rather than my phone, so apologies if the quality isn't very good!

#character art #creature #cryptid #cryptids #monster #original art #art #artists on tumblr #forest dweller #does it really count as a monster if it's friendly?#meadow dweller #Mountain dweller #your honour i love them #i wish them nothing but happiness

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runninriot · 3 months

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no reason to hide

written for @steddie-week day 1 | prompt: secret relationship

rated: t | wc: 4.5k | tags: Max POV, Max & Eddie friendship, Max & Steve Friendship, Steve and Eddie are keeping secrets, coming out, post Vecna, everybody lives | complete fic on ao3

The first time she notices something strange is going on between Eddie and Steve, is when Max wakes up in the middle of the night from one of those ghastly dreams that have been haunting her since the whole Vecna fiasco went down.

She does what she always does when she can’t fall back asleep - goes to sit on the steps outside of her home to listen to the familiar sounds of the trailer park, looking at the sky, the stars and the moon, reminding herself that she’s back in the real world. That the Upside Down and all its monsters are a memory of the past.

It’s been almost a year and things have finally gone back to how they were. Well, mostly.

Sure, those nights where the monsters come crawling back into her subconscious are draining sometimes, but after everything that happened to her, nightmares, a walking stick, and glasses are a small price to pay. She could’ve paid a much higher one, could’ve lost it all. She’s fine. And at least the nightmares are a burden they all share.

Her friends have them too, those restless nights. And even if that doesn’t make it better, the fact that they are in this together makes it easier, at least.

Max knows she can always count on them – her now-again-boyfriend Lucas and the stupid but lovable dorks Dustin and Mike. Even El and Will, who went back to California, are always just one phone call away.

She has Steve, who – while Nancy and Robin went off to college – didn’t leave.

He’s still here, still taking care of them in his annoyingly loving way, even though they don’t need him to be their protector anymore, technically.

She’d never say it out loud, would rather eat her own tongue than to admit it, but to know that he’s part of her life is kind of... comforting. Because he’s graduated from babysitter to friend long ago, has proven time and again that he’s a good guy with a big heart. Max likes him a lot, can understand why Dustin was always so drawn to him.

And then, there’s Eddie.

Before being caught in a war against evil and nearly walking into the light at the end of the tunnel together, she never really cared much for him at all. (And no, she did not have a very stupid, very tiny crush on him when she learned about him playing guitar in this awesome band. Anyone who suggests otherwise can talk it out with her fist, okay?!)

She had often wondered how much truth was behind all the rumours, the Satanic Freak allegations. Because while he obviously liked to cause trouble every now and then, he always seemed... nice. A little boisterous, maybe, but never violent or evil.

And then she got to know him when they were trying to prove his innocence while being caught in their final battle against evil, and realised how much they had in common.

How Eddie, like her, wears a mask to protect his vulnerable pieces inside. Carrying the burden of a broken home and too much pent-up anger on his shoulders.

Max sees a version of herself in Eddie, and seeing how far he’s come – even if he himself doesn’t think he has – is encouraging, in a way.

She never told anyone, but out of everyone, Eddie might have played the biggest part in her recovery.

When she opened her eyes for the first time after being in a coma, the first blurry face she saw wasn’t Lucas or Steve or even her own mother.

No. It was Eddie.

Half his body in bandages, leaning heavy on his crutches holding him upright where he was standing beside her hospital bed, smiling down at her, which looked painful because of the stitches on his left cheek, but it was warm and friendly and honest.

And in that moment, when the memories came back and the world came crushing down, Max was glad it was him that watched her fall apart. Because with Eddie, she didn’t feel the need to pretend that she was fine. He let her cry and wince in pain without commenting on it, just took her hand – no words of pity, no promises of false hopes, just a tight squeeze of her hand in silent support.

Their friendship evolved from there, got even stronger when they were both fighting their way through physical therapy, from frustrating setbacks to miraculous accomplishments.

He’s annoying sometimes, like a brother, but he’s the kind of friend that you love to fight with because you know they’ll never hold a grudge; Eddie's friendship is unconditional and Max cherishes that more than she'd ever tell him.

Eddie, like her, finds it hard to sleep sometimes. So, more times than not, when she goes to sit on the steps in the middle of the night, she finds him outside his own trailer – smoking in silence or listening to music with his headphones on.

They don’t usually talk, just share a few moments together in peace until their minds have calmed enough for them to get ready to conquer another day.

This is why Max doesn’t startle when she hears the familiar squeak of the Munson’s trailer door. Only when a car door gets slammed close, does she look up.

Weirdly enough, it isn’t Eddie who’s going for a ride. It isn’t his van that slowly turns and rolls out of the driveway.

It’s Steve’s car; there’s no doubt about it. She knows that car better than Steve likes to be reminded of.

What the hell is he doing at Eddie’s place at 2 in the morning?, Max wonders, worries that maybe something is wrong.

But moments later, the trailer door opens again and Eddie steps out, dressed in his pajama pants, lighting a cigarette like he always does. He seems calm, happy. Not at all like something bad has happened.

Until he notices her and his eyes widen in shock, mouth hanging open with the cigarette stuck to his bottom lip.

“Max! How- how long have you been out here?”

She doesn’t exactly know why she doesn’t tell the truth but something about the way Eddie looks at her tells Max, he might not want her to know about his nightly visitor.

“Just came out like, maybe a second before you did,” she lies, watching his shoulders drop as the tension in his body eases.

“Oh, uh, okay. Nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna talk?”

“Nah, just needed some fresh air. You?”

“I- I’m good. Just, uh, just couldn’t sleep.”

They sit there for a while, both awkwardly looking anywhere but at each other, before Max can’t take it anymore, says her goodnight and goes back inside.

There is probably a good explanation for it all. Maybe Steve couldn’t sleep, too. Maybe he went to Eddie for some weed? (Don’t act so surprised. She might just be a teen but she’s not stupid, okay?)

Whatever it is, Max will never know because going by the way Eddie reacted when he saw her, she’s sure he doesn’t want to be questioned about it.

It’s fine. It’s none of her business anyway.

And Max forgets about it entirely until something strange happens again a few weeks later...

keep reading

#steddieweek2024 #steddie #steddie fic #max mayfield #eddie munson #steve harrington

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the-monkey-ruler · 7 months

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Which translation/adaptation of JTTW is best for beginners? Besides maybe Dragon Ball (doubt it counts)

Heh yeah I mean it’s a great anime but I don’t think you would have a good Xiyouji experience per se. Usually, I see Dragon Ball used as a gateway for people to THEN read/watch Xiyouji content but like it doesn’t really have much Xiyouji plot wise even if the characters are homages.

I would say that if you want an ACCURATE Xiyouji experience then you can choose between three shows. That being the classic 1986 which is many people's first Xiyouji experience as the cast is so iconic you see these designs in dozens of movies and their influence in future performances. The second is more family-friendly but still one of the most charming and fairly accurate portrayals is the 1999 Xiyouji animation, I would say far more younger people's first piece of media and without a doubt the best Xiyouji animation series thus far personally. That last I would suggest is 2011 Xiyouji series which is one of the more newer shows and I would say I would that if you want more modern effects and humor than this might be a preferance to the 1986 version. They both have their own charm but just depends on what you are looking for!

Now while these are the most accurate there are some Xiyouji media I would still recommend even if they take far more liberties.

This without a doubt being the 1996 tv series. This is portrayed as more of a drama but between the characters and the pure HEART AND LOVE that is in this show that you will be falling in love with the characters. It vaguely follows the Xiyouji monster of the weak formula but taking far more time to humanize each enemy and having our main cast overcome not only physical obstacles but also their own emotional obstacles as well. Fantastic show. Another is Chinese Odessey (please note this is a two part movie)! This does NOT follow the journey at all instead more of an introspective of the character Wukong. This is more of comedy but this is a cult classic as one of the first romance films with Wukong to show him as more of a complex hero which was a deviation from how he was portrayed in media for years as this point. This movie is silly but it is actually very heartfelt and makes you feel for these characters's plights. If you don't know Xiyouji I would say you will be confused, but you can fall in love with these characters anyway! Whil I can't suggest Dragon Ball I can suggest another Son Goku from My Son Goku! This is a Japanese production but the animation is so fluid and the characters are not only charming but there are some heart reaching scenes in this very cute art style! I would say give this a watch if you enjoy anime but also can appreciate angst even in a cute style.

If you are looking for more just great Xiyouji movies that you can pop in and a fantastic one is the 2015 Hero is Back! This was the Wukong come back animation-wise since 1999 and a lot of people first Wukong in the big screens! Does take liberties story wise as we don't see Sha Wujing or any of the journey really, but the HEART and soul of Sun Wukong is there. Another great one is just watching the first and classic 1961 Havoc in Heaven! This was the staple of Wukong iconics for decades and even now you see this Wukong in commercials! This is just a beautiful art style and without a doubt charming and feel good vibes. This one is surprising but actually Nezha Reborn where Sun Wukong actually makes a cameo appearance, but I hear so many people got into Xiyouji just cause how much they love him. So while it's not Xiyouji I would say give it a watch if you are a die hard Sun Wukong fan.

There is also Monkey King Reborn which while less known I still think is wonderfully popular and shows both great animation and also how all three characters of Wukong, Bajie, and Wujing interact in a movie. There is also Monkey King 2 which I know that usually I would say which the first movie but honestly the second movie is my personal fav. You don't miss much without watching the first as the second starts right at the begging of the journey and we are introduced to some of the best designs for these characters in my opinion. This last one is kinda of a hit-or-miss but Conquering the Demon! This one follows Sanzang as a demon hunter in a loosely based story of him finding his disciples, each more monstrous than the last in a dark-comedy! If you enjoy Stephen Chow films then you know what kind of humor you are going to get but it is new take on Xiyouji films in a unique but still entertaining manner! They really make you feel for Sanzang as a character and one of the best humanizations of him really as a man still learning about the world himself.

There some other that are great but I would suggest more on a second watch or if you know the story more! Saiyuki / The Great Alakazam was the first eng dub saiyuki piece of media that came to the USA and still had a lasting influence with the beloved character Rinrin! There is also Monkey King 2009 that only looks at the story BEFORE the journey, adding so many elements to Wukong's childhood and his relationship with the Six Eared Macaque. I would also suggest the Monkey King Netflix Movie as while it is fast-paced it really makes you understand how dangerous but also how complex Sun Wukong is. I think it was a charming movie so give it a watch!. Last is Immortal Demon Slayer! This movie was based on a web novel that was extremely popular in the early 2000s which was based off Chinese Odessey funny enough! This is a movie I would suggest if you know Xiyouji already but it such a tragedy I have to share if you love angst.

If anyone wants to share their what was their first Xiyouji or their favorite Xioyuji please let me know!

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iisasarcasticlittleshite · 2 years

Text

We've created a Monster Pt.II

Diavolo laughed at the screen of his DDD, hurriedly gesturing for Barbatos to join him.

'Come see this, Barbatos, Lucifer just shared the most delightful video!'

'I'm sure it must be of great importance for you to neglect your paperwork, my lord.'

Sheepishly, Diavolo turned to screen toward him, presenting the still image of an envy demon dwarfing their powerless exchange student.

'Oh my, lord this image is far from amusing.'

'Trust me, just press play.'

So he did, and was very much not expecting what came next. 'I see, it seems MC has grown rather more capable than I gave them credit for.'

'According to Lucifer they were rather unbothered by the threat, he even called a family meeting to address the event and MC just...laughed them off?'

Barbatos couldn't help but smile. 'How remarkable, expected though. MC has seen demons far more frightening than a lesser envy demon.'

'That's what they said to the brothers, though Lucifer seems to find it far less amusing than we do.'

'I imagine, it is not the sort of scenario he would find at all pleasant. Threat to our young human cause him a great deal of unrest.'

Diavolo grinned a conspirator's smile. 'Just him?'

'...fair point.'

'Why are the incantations so long? I'm trying to light a candle not summon a hurricane.' MC huffed, slouching into the armchair with the grimoire laid open across her thighs. 'It's like a religious text.'

'Magic's way of making sure you mean to get what you're asking for.' Solomon's smile was beguiling, almost sweet, but not.

He's a menace, and no one knows that better than MC, who's been taking magical instruction for him for months.

The sorcerer crossed his legs, flipping through a new spell book MC brought over from Satan. 'So, I hear you had some fun at RAD this morning.'

MC rolled their eyes, reluctantly going back to memorising incantations. 'You too? Does the entire Devildom know about that by now?'

'I'd say so, everyone who matters at least. We haven't told Luke, poor thing would loose his mind if he had actual proof of how dangerous the devildom really is for you.'

'I'm not in any danger, you're starting to sound like Lucifer.' MC huffed. 'Next thing I know you'll be off on a lecture about my lack of self preservation and needing to be careful.'

'I would never, watching you get in trouble is my favourite pass time.' He winked teasingly, kicking his shows up on the coffee table. 'I am curious though, what was going through your head when he threatened you? I remember being a little intimidated the first time a demon tried to kill me.'

'I'm honestly surprised you remember your first anything anymore.'

'Don't change the subject.' Tutted Solomon with that congenial smile of his that was neither friendly nor threatening. 'What were you thinking?'

MC sighed, closing the grimoire and turning their attention to the plate of cookies Luke left for them. 'It was annoying, I went into RAD early to get ahead on a project I was supposed to be working on with Simeon. Could have expected that reaction when I told him Levi wears envy way better. That time he tried to kill me gave me nightmares for days.'

'...MC, how many times have those lunatics nearly killed you?'

'Pfft, you think I keep count? Between Beel's tantrums, Mammon's schemes and just existing in Lucifer's radius I nearly die at least twice a week. It was way more when I first met them though.'

Solomon had to resist the urge to gape. His sense of normal may be a few thousand years past twisted, but this is... odd even for him. A human this young should not be this comfortable with domestic danger, let alone love those who put them there.

Several, times, a week.

MC carries on eating their cookies happily, reaching for another one when their eye catches something on the table, half hidden behind a book, but that beastly silhouette is unmistakeable, and they immediately curl into the chair as though they've been burned.

Pitching a whine to alert the house, their wide eyes fixate on the eight legged monstrosity, arms coiled tight around themselves as their skin immediately begins to crawl and twitch as though being assaulted by hundreds of the tiny beasts.

'What?! What is...oh, hello there.'

Solomon is almost left a aghast all over again. Here sits the most desensitised human he's ever met (besides himself), curled up in a ball, over a spider.

Fair be it a decent sized spider, probably the size of his thumb, but a mere spider nonetheless.

'You looked a 20-foot snake in the eye, you take Cerberus for evening walks with Lucifer...' he trailed off, carefully nudging the arachnid into an empty glass and caging it with a book '...and you're afraid of a spider?'

'Fuckin' right I am! And I'm not going to justify it to you so get rid of it before I set you on fire!'

Solomon laughed, and laughed until he couldn't hold himself upright anymore, wiping a tear from his eye, but when next he looked up, MC was still staring at the spider, eyes so full of genuine terror and brimming with tears, he felt guilt strike him.

'This...genuinely frightens you, doesn't it?'

MC nodded, lip jutted in an involuntary pout, skin raised in goose bumps. 'I wish it didn't.'

'Alright, I'm sorry. I'll get rid of it.'

And he did, and made a point of making sure everyone knew about MC's phobia, and didn't make fun of them for it.

Was it ironic that someone who looked death in the eye and waved was afraid of spiders? Absolutely, but no one chooses fear over comfort, and MC has chosen to be brave one too many times for anyone to begrudge them one or two irrational fears.

#obey me x reader #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me undateables

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forever-rogue · 11 months

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Howdy, friend. I’ve been stewing for months trying to think of a fluff request to send you, but I’ve come up short bc I generally have smut on the brain. But I think I did find something!

Eddie, not really knowing how to about telling you how he feels, does something extravagant for your birthday—the first birthday he’s been around for? 👀

AN | Eddie would absolutely plan the best birthday ever! Enjoy 🥰

Warnings | None

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.7k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"I can't believe you didn't tell me," you looked up from the book you were reading and found Eddie dramatically throwing himself onto the couch. He hadn't been bothered to knock before letting himself into your apartment. You loved that you were both on that level of friendship, "I thought what we had was special."

"Umm…hello to you too?" You bookmarked your page before tossing the book onto the coffee table, "what was it that I didn't tell you?"

"Your birthday," he hissed, lifting his head up and glaring at you from between his messy curls, "you didn't tell me it was next week!"

"I wasn't aware that I had to," you giggled at his dramatics as he scoffed at you. You known him for almost a year now but this was the first birthday of yours that you were spending together, "its not a big deal, Ed. I don't really do much for my birthday normally. It's just another day."

"Another day?" He sat up and clutched at his heart as he shook his head, "I can't believe you're saying that surviving another year of life is no big deal. It's like…a huge deal."

"Eddie," you got up from your comfy, overstuffed armchair and sat down next to him on the couch. He had such a big heart and always showed his love for those around him - it was one of the most endearing things about him, "you are so sweet and lovely, truly. But I don't need anything fancy. Just having you in my life is plenty."

He looked at you with a lopsided grin that was nothing short of magical. You put your hand on his knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. He sighed softly, nudging your side with his elbow and hoping you wouldn't notice the bubblegum hue of his cheeks, "I like having you in my life too, princess. A lot."

If only you knew just how very much.

"Good," you stood up and stretched, unaware of how closely he was watching your every move, "glad we're on the same page. Now come, I was gonna watch make hot chocolate and watch a scary movie. You in?"

"As if that was ever a question," he bounced to his feet and followed after you eagerly, "wait - do you have any mini marshmallows?"

"Duh. I'm not a monster."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie wasn't exactly sure what he was going to going to do for your birthday but he knew he was going to do something. It would be something big and all out. He had to let you know how he felt, or at least strongly suggest. He wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to be just your friend.

Quite frankly, he'd fallen in love with you a long time ago. Probably when he'd met you that night at the bar. The two of you were strangers, both new to New York and without friends. He'd been the first man you'd met that hadn't made you feel uncomfortable and the two of you clicked instantly. You'd quickly become best friends.

But along with that, Eddie had learned about your past heartbreak, including the one that had left you unsure of ever wanting another relationship. That was largely the reason Eddie had made sure to keep things on a friendly level. He didn't want to push you away.

Now though, he couldn't hold it back any longer. He longed to hold your hand, to kiss you and touch. Everything - all of it. He wanted it all with you. Despite all the baggage you insisted you had, Eddie wanted you and only. He had lots of baggage too, that's what he always reminded you of. But it didn't matter - you had each other.

You could tell that he was up to something, he’d been acting weird. And that was saying a lot for Eddie. You tried to ask him a few times but he never admitted to anything, and kept insisting that everyone was fine and normal. Peachy.

Internally, meanwhile, Eddie was anything but peachy. He was busy trying to plan the best birthday ever. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to do anything for your birthday, it just had never been a big deal for you. As long as you were surrounded by the people you loved and cared about, all was well. This year, you’d realized, it would be different - you didn’t have a ton of friends in New York (save for Eddie of course) and your family was scattered. You didn’t really have any plans or intent to make any plans. You’d have been happy with heading home after work and enjoying some takeout or pizza from one of your favorite places and watching a movie. Preferably with Eddie, but you weren’t going to force anything on him. The last thing you would ever want to do would be to chase him away.

“Eddie?” you cut through his thoughts when you waved your hand in front of his face. The two of you were out at dinner, hitting up your usual weekend spot. He blinked a few times before properly looking at you, “you alright there, space cadet?”

“Mhmm,” he grabbed a big bite of his pasta and shoved it in his mouth, chewing carefully and thoughtfully in order to have a moment to think of what to say to you. You set your own fork down and picked up your beer, drinking the rest of it while staring Eddie down. He was not getting away with his odd little behavior any longer - not that you thought he had anything to hide of course.

“Mhmm,” you repeated slowly as he swallowed thickly, “what’s up, Eddie? You’ve been acting so on edge this week. Did something happen?”

“No! No,” he calmed down, face warming up as you raised an eyebrow at him, “I was just thinking about your birthday.”

“My birthday,” you repeated as he nodded like you were the crazy one for not making a bigger deal out of your own birthday, “what about it?”

“I just wanted to know if you had any plans and if you didn’t if there was something you wanted to do,” your heart constricted at the sweet smile on his face as you blinked back the stinging at the back of your eyes. No one had ever been as considerate about Eddie, “I don’t want to intrude or just assume that you’d even want to hang out with me but yeah.”

“Of course I want to spend time with you, Eddie. I always want to spend time with you,” you reached across the table and put your hand on top of his and gave it a gentle squeeze, “but just to be clear, I don’t have any plans and I’d love to spend the day with you.”

“O-oh,” his doe eyes grew wide as he let what you had said sink in, “wow. Cool. Is there anything in particular you want to do? Any ideas or requests?”

“I don’t need anything special,” you shook your head sweetly, “just wanna spend time with you, that’s all.”

“Sweetheart,” he huffed dramatically in that very Eddie way that you adored. You laughed softly as he leaned in, “you realize that I’m not going to let that happen, right?”

“Yeah,” you leaned, so close that you could almost kiss him - and you wanted to. You really wanted to. But you couldn’t just go ahead and do that. Not now��.but maybe one day, “I know, Eddie.”

“Good,” he reached up and gently booped your nose which only caused you to giggle. He loved that sound way too much - it always made you feel a certain type of way, “I shall plan the day’s festivities then and your only job will be to attend. If you would happen to be agreeable to this of course.”

“I am more than agreeable,” you promised. You had a feeling that somehow this was going to be the best birthday ever. Even just the sheer fact of getting to spend it with Eddie was more than enough.

If only you knew that Eddie felt the exact same way.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When Eddie had said that he had a great day planned for your birthday, he hadn’t been kidding. Since it was the weekend, you both had the entire day to spend together. It started early in the morning with Eddie coming over to your apartment to take you out to see the sunrise, followed by breakfast at your favorite brunch spot. Normally you wouldn’t have been such an early riser but you had to admit that there was something magical about being up early with only Eddie around and watching the beautiful colors shift and bloom on the horizon.

After that it was a day of adventures with running around the city, trying to put together the puzzles of the scavenger hunt that Eddie had put together. Because of course he had - it was just a very Eddie thing to do. Eddie was thoroughly amused watching you run around and try to figure out his cryptic riddles. It was even better when your face lit up with each piece that you put together and all the treasures you found along the way.

The day ended up with the two of you outside of the city, at a small restaurant that had a perfect view of the sunset. It was such a sweet gesture and felt incredibly romantic and it definitely settled something within your soul.

“I don’t think I could have imagined a better day than this, Eddie,” you whispered softly, his eyes reverent and tender as he looked you over. Truthfully, he couldn’t quite have imagined a better day either, “this was really wonderful. No one’s ever done anything this thoughtful for me before.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you ate in silence, exchanging shy glances every now and then. Something between the two of you had definitely shifted and while you weren’t quite sure what it was, it definitely felt good. After a little while, Eddie set down his fork and cleared his throat, capturing your attention.

“I have to get this out or I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do this,” your eyes widened in surprise as you tried to figure out what Eddie could possibly be referring to. Your mind immediately went to the worst and you were sure that he was going to find some way to end your friendship. You had no clue what you’d do without him - he’d become such a huge part of your life. Honestly, he was probably the singular most important part of your life.

“Eddie?” your eyes started to tear up when he didn’t say anything for a few moments. He seemed to be looking anywhere but your eyes…until he finally found the courage to. It was hard to read what was in those pretty brown eyes, but you didn’t detect any malice. That was good at least, “what is it?”

“I…” he ran a hand through his curls and let out a low sigh, “I’m in love with you.”

Time seemed to stand still as his words rang around in your head over and over. You tested out every possible meaning of his words. But then it hit you that there was only one - and there was always only one - possible answer.

“Oh,” you blinked at him and his cheeks warmed up as he tried not to panic because of your lack of a full response, “oh.”

“I-I know that you said you have a lot of baggage and umm don’t necessarily want another relationship,” he stammered nervously, letting out a nervous chuckle, “and I’d never want to pressure you or anything to have a relationship or anything more, but I just wanted you to know. It felt wrong not to tell you, like I was being dishonest with you and myself.”

“Eddie-”

“I hope this doesn’t make things awkward between us,” he whispered. He was slowly starting to feel like this had been the wrong decision, “I, umm, you’re just so amazing and I love everything about you and I-I-”

“Eddie.”

“I know you say you have baggage and I have it too and I just…there’s no else I could imagine doing this with,” he was stammering so nervously now that it was nothing but endearing. It still felt like a bit of a wild dream - you’d always imagined that you’d be the one in his position, spilling your guts out to him, “I want to spend my life with you. I want to share all our baggage, no matter how heavy. I just…love you a lot.”

Your lips pulled into a pout before you let out a small sigh. Before you could say anything, you took his face in your hands, brushing your thumb over his cheek before pressing your lips to his and kissing him gently. When you pulled back he looked at you in pure shock and surprise. You couldn’t contain your little giggle of nervous excitement as he pulled himself back to reality.

“So…umm,” he waved his hands around nervously as he had a tendency to do, “wow. Did you really do that? Did that happen?”

“Yes,” you laughed softly, resting your forehead on his shoulder, “that actually happened, Edward.”

“Does that mean that you might feel the same way? About me?” you lifted her head and pressed a few kisses along his jaw. You put your hand on his neck, gently ghosting your fingers along his soft skin. You felt him practically shiver at your touch; he was watching your every move with curious, soft eyes.

“Yeah,” a wistful little sound escaped your lips, “I do, Eddie. More than you could ever know. You mean the world to me, you silly, wonderful, amazing man.”

“Wow,” he couldn’t help himself as he leaned in and pressed a soft, tentative kiss to your lips. He could feel your lips pulling into a smile and that made him feel something he couldn’t quite put into words, “will you say it again? Please?”

“I love you, Eddie Munson,” you beamed at him, stomach flipping in happy somersaults, “I want you and only you - every last little bit. I thought I never wanted another relationship again. Turns out, I just had to be patient and wait for the right person - you.”

“Sweetheart,” he never realized until that very moment just how much he needed to hear those words. No one had ever said anything like that to him before, no one had ever chosen him like that - no one had ever loved him like you did, “fuck - I am going to marry the hell out of you one day.”

Your mouth dropped open and pulled into a sugary sweet smile. Of course Eddie would make a declaration like that - but you also knew that he was being serious. In his very own Eddie way, he’d just made a promise that you both knew he would keep.

“Well, I’ll look forward to that,” you bit the inside of your cheek, “I hope you intend on making good on that promise.”

“Oh I will,” he threw his arms around you in a tight squeeze, giving you what might have been the best hug of all time, “I will. Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” you burrowed yourself into him as much as possible, melting into his gentle touch and warmth, “this has been the best birthday ever.”

“For now - I’ll make it even better next year!”

“I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you, birthday girl.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #st #joseph quinn

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year

Text

Ace, Lilia: Be Not Deceived

OH???? 👁️ One of the paintings in the background is the Ace of Hearts card soldiers… Does this mean we’ll get to see the actual character inspos for each boy, even the obscure ones like Jack and Sebek??? Will we finally solve a 3+ year long mystery??????? 🔍

… Also, not Ace casually wanting to go to karaoke with Scar 😭 (Funny, cuz he was denied hearing L*ona sing during Endless Halloween Night.) Figures that Ace would be the best at singing of the first years, the others are just no competition…

A Tale as Old as Time.

Not every work of art had a seriousness about it. In fact, Ace preferred to ogle the sillier pieces, finding solace in the nonsense and the chaos of them.

Hands shoved into the pockets of his finely tailored slacks, he found himself entranced by a bed of oysters. They were pried open, one half of their shells propped up to resemble bonnets. Their fleshy, round faces were still drowsy from sleep.

Little babies, the whole lot of them.

“My, you’ve taken quite an interest in that painting. I wouldn’t have expected it of you.” The remark came from Lilia, who curiously peered over at Ace from one side. “Have you an interest in oysters?”

“Nah, can’t stand’m. Especially raw,” he replied. “I was just thinkin’ of something I heard from back home."

“Oh?" Lilia’s large eyes glittered with a keen interest. “Now this I must hear.”

“It’s not really that interesting.” Ace shrugged. “A walrus dressed up in a suit to wine and dine a bunch of oysters—but the punchline is, instead of being taken out to dinner, the oysters are the walrus’s dinner! We have a Walrus-brand oyster sauce in the Queendom of Roses that gets its name from that story."

“Kufufu, I see! What a fascinating origin," Lilia mused. "It's a cautionary tale to not trust strangers. It brings to mind warnings to be wary of wolves in sheep’s clothing.”

"I guess so? The walrus looked nice at first glance, but he basically robbed a cradle. Seriously, who'd actually go and kidnap a baby like that? It’s just an exaggerated story to scare gullible kids into acting straight.”

Lilia's mouth adopted a mysterious, knowing smile.

"Oh, you'd be surprised!" he chuckled softly. "You never know when a big, bad monster might come in the night to steal you away from your family."

There was an eerie intenseness behind his every word, the magenta of his irises darkening to match. A shiver bolted down Ace’s spine. Lilia, too, was a creature of that very night that threatened to consume him.

"Y-Yeesh, you're freakin' me out, Lilia-senpai” Ace jokingly shoved his upperclassman. His fear had been fleeting, easily chased off with a laugh. “Don't say scary stuff like that. Halloween isn't for like another whole month!"

“Oopsie~ Perhaps I’m a little overeager.”

“I’ll say.” Ace rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I forget how weird you can be.”

“What, you don’t think someone as adorable as me could possibly be capable of committing a war crime or two?” Lilia grinned. “I’m not entirely innocent, you know.”

“You definitely wouldn’t be able to pull off any war crimes though!! You just act way different than your looks would suggest.” Ace rapped his knuckles on the wall beside the framed oysters. “Like the lying walrus.”

“Do you think I’m a lying walrus?” The question was teasing.

“Everyone is. There’s plenty of them in Heartslabyul too.” Ace counted off on his fingers.

“Loosey Deucy comes off like a straight-laced honors student, but he’s an ex-delinquent and dumb as a rock. Cater-senpai looks flashy and friendly, but he’ll trick you into doing his chores and leave you hanging. Trey-senpai’s got his weird teeth hobby… and then there’s Riddle-ryocho, who has a babyface but throws fits like an active volcano!!

“The Great Seven had parts of themselves that were surprising too. No one would think the King of Beasts would be the type of guy to be belt out a song, but he still did. That’s what moved the hyenas to join his cause. It just goes to show that you really can’t judge a book by its cover.”

"A good takeaway from the tale," Lilia agreed. "Taking the morals of a story to heart... you're very clever, Ace."

"The cleverest." He cheekily stuck out his tongue.

The knowing smile suddenly returned to Lilia's face. "I'm sure you have a wicked side to yourself as well. As you've said, we all have a bit of the lying walrus in us."

"No way, miss me with that. I’m the poor, helpless victim,” Ace grumbled, rubbing at his neck. It had stiffened considerably at the memory of his skin chaffing. “Haaah, if only I wasn't bullied so much by my dorm leader~"

"By Riddle?" Lilia smirked a little. "His temper is rather infamous. Silver and Sebek are his club mates. I've heard of Riddle's rage.”

"Dude, you don't know the half of it. He's always nagging me one way or another, and if I don't listen... BAM!

"'Off with Your Head'!!" Ace scrunched up his face in a show of pretend anger and pantomimed casting a spell by wiggling his fingers. The voice he adopted was elegant, yet arrogant—a replica of Riddle's. "Now you sit there and think about what you've done, Ace! The collar comes off when you've repented."

He fell back with a groan, Lilia's amused chuckle accompanying him in the otherwise quiet museum.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up while you still can."

From the corner of his eye, Ace spotted the oysters again. The entire bed, a colony of easily deceived infants. Unaware of the world and its eager, snapping jaws—the jaws of a well-dressed walrus.

“Guess a smile and a snazzy suit is all it takes to get people to waltz right into a trap, huh? With the right looks and attitude, even a villain can be made to pass as a hero.”

Ace tugged at the silver sash slung across his torso, drinking in the details of his luxurious platinum suit. A bow tie, a vest, a jacket with trailing coattails. Shining fabric, pure and unblemished.

He was all dressed up, with nowhere to go. Only lies to tell.

“You make for a good hero,” Lilia offered, “with that winsome charm and cheer of yours. Ah, but that’s not all. It never is. These old eyes can’t be deceived.”

“Whaaat? I can’t believe you’d side with Riddle over me. I’m being unfairly ganged up on here!! Aaah, my senpai are so mean to me…!”

His laments echoed off the cavernous rooms of the museum. Mere whining of a high school boy against the backdrop of great figures and illustrious history.

He was small, one little white lie against a sea of them.

“… Juuust kidding.”

Ace turned away, a wink thrown playfully at the painting of the oysters before their very doom.

As if anyone would believe that.

#Ace Trappola #Lilia Vanrouge #twisted wonderland #twst #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #disney twisted wonderland #spoilers #something no one asked for #Ace birthday takeover #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios

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