#he is gruesome to whoever but to her??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flowersandbigteeth · 8 months

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Orc boyfriend with what he thinks is a tiny, smol mate who's so smol, so delicate, so sweet... They're actually pretty firmly built for a human, while a bit short, along with being stubborn and sassy and ready to bite heads off for their adorable XL size boyfriend.

I've got so many orc stories going right now, but you know I'm not mad about it ^_^ I love Orcs <3 There are so many different ways to write them. I have another couple of Orc asks I'm working on, as well 🥵

Orc (Cedar) x thick f reader

Word Count: 5K

Tw: sfw orc fluff, some brief descriptions of battle, brief mention of sa, size difference

More monster fluff here

“Put the stick down, sugar. We’re not going to hurt you.”

You scoffed at the soldiers circling you, their eyes dark with lust.

“We just want to have some fun,” another said, his eyes drifting over your shapely hips. “Don’t you owe us a debt of gratitude for rescuing you?”

You squeezed the iron fire poker that you had gripped in your hand.

“Rescuing me? You didn’t get your rocks off burning down the damn village?”

“It was a strategic maneuver,” the leader of the armored men said with an oily smile. “We are here to liberate you.”

“By assaulting me?” you snapped.

There was not a doubt in your mind that the second you lowered your weapon, they were going to drag you into some dark corner and act out all of the sick thoughts they had echoed on their faces.

Your King’s soldiers weren’t good guys. When they heard there was an Orc camp nearby, they couldn’t be bothered to attack it directly. Instead, they burned down your village. They said it was to prevent them from resupplying.

It was true you did business with the Orcs, who were technically your enemy, but they never acted like enemies. While big and quite scary-looking, they paid in gold and were always polite to the women running the shops. You never felt the least bit unsafe alone with one, and occasionally, they’d help you out with things that needed done– fixing roofs and cartwheels. The men of the town had all been conscripted for the war, so it mostly the ladies keeping the village afloat. The soldiers had made a whole lot of children and the elderly homeless.

“Come on, sweetie, this game is getting tiresome.”

One of the soldiers dared to approach you, and you didn’t hesitate a second, swinging your poker and smacking him so hard in the head that his helmet crunched. He collapsed on the broken boards that had once been the floor of your little noodle shop.

“Now that’s a crime!” the leader barked.

He waved to his accomplices.

“Get in there and restrain her!” Their eyes fell on the collapsed soldier, and they looked between one another, trying to sort out who was next to get a whomping.

You flexed your wrist, preparing to swing at whoever came at you next, when you heard the heavy steps of an Orc approaching. The soldiers were too inexperienced to know what that sound meant. You’d heard them approach every day at dinner time for several months. It wasn’t until he was shouldering his way through what was left of your door that they took notice.

“The enemy approaches! Your swords!”

The Orc you knew as Ash, wrinkled his brow and let out a lilting call to gather his brethren. The ground rumbled as more heavy feet ran towards you.

Wood splintered, and what remained of the ceiling creaked as they tore the walls away, making more room for a fight.

Faced with five nine-foot Orc barbarians armed with axes almost as big as their bodies, the soldiers tried to run for it. You screamed as they threatened to trample you, trying to force their way through the back wall, but they never reached you.

The Orcs didn’t need to draw their weapons, grabbing every soldier and smacking them against the ground until they stopped moving—a gruesome way to die, but practical.

When the danger was crumpled into a wet gnarl of bones and metal, their eyes turned to you. Ash said something to his friends in their own language before he stomped across the room and plucked you up like a kitten, cradling you in his arm.

“Hey, What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Quiet, little one. You’ll give us away.”

You puckered your lips at him, annoyed, as if the stomping of five tons of muscle was quiet. When you tried to wave your poker at him, he plucked it out of your hand but didn’t drop it, tucking it instead in his belt. He said something else to his friends before turning to split away from them.

You had no reason to panic. The Orcs had never harmed you, but being taken away from the group put frightening thoughts in your head, and you instinctively started screaming.

The Orc sighed, sounding tired, when four more soldiers came skidding around a corner, swords in hand. You looked up at him apologetically, smacking your hand over your mouth to stay the scream that didn’t want to stop.

He set you on the roof of what was left of a building and pat you on the head, a gesture that you read as “stay” before pulling out his axe. You weren’t going anywhere, even if you wanted to. The drop was fifteen feet down, and the stairs were just charcoal at the base of the building.

“Attack!” the leader of the soldiers shouted, but their moves in their heavy metal armor were slow. Ash swung his arm in a sweeping stroke that sliced four of them in half where they stood. The other one, eyes wide with horror, turned tail and ran.

Replacing his axe, he picked you up again and headed into the woods. This time, you had enough sense to keep quiet.

You’d never been to the Orc camp before, but you heard it before you saw it. The brassy sound of a grinder and hammers on metal rang through the trees, blended with the shouts of the Orcs in their language. There were lots of huge tents and fires spotted here and there. The camp was buzzing with activity. Orcs ran around shouting at one another, some gathering weapons, some sending groups in the direction you came. You recognized many of them as some of your customers. They often came in groups and hauled away vats of the noodle stew you sold.

A few Orcs waved at Ash but didn’t pay you much mind as he carried you to the nicest-looking tent. It had a banner outside of it with a gold bear embroidered into the fabric. Ash set you on the ground at the door and handed you your poker before patting you on the back, indicating you should go in.

“What’s in there?” you asked.

He said something in Orcish that you didn’t understand and walked away. There were too many other giants around to attempt an escape, so you pulled aside the fur covering the door and peeked inside.

“Hello?”

Your question was returned with a deep voice, smooth as a glassy pond.

“Enter, little one.”

Taking a few steps inside, you were faced with what you could only describe as the most handsome Orc you’d ever seen. His skin was a deep olive, and his hair fell over his shoulder in a long, dark sheet with small braids here and there. His tusks were large, but they seemed only to highlight how well his lips were formed. His features were harsh and defined but not unattractive, with a straight nose and deep-set gold eyes. The only thing you could point out as a flaw was a dark scar from his forehead to the right corner of his jaw.

You assumed the Orcs were blunt tools, sprinting into battle with no real plan, but this one was sitting at a high table examining maps with a book in his hand.

“I’m…I’m not sure why I’m here,” you said, brandishing your poker, though you didn’t feel like you were in any particular danger.

“I asked Ash to fetch you,” he said without looking up. “You’re the noodle shop woman.”

“My name is (Y/N), not “noodle shop woman,” and I don’t have a shop anymore. The soldiers burned it.”

He put his book down and turned his gold eyes to you.

“That’s why you’re here.”

“I don’t understand.”

His eyes drifted over you before they settled on the poker you were still holding up.

“You were feeding most of the camp. If there’s no shop to visit, you can make noodles here.”

You blinked up at him.

“Oh…Am I your prisoner?”

He chuckled.

“If you’d like to go back to your people, I won’t stop you, but judging how they burned down your village without hesitation, I think you’re safer with us.”

You had to admit that made some sense, but you still weren’t buying it.

“I can’t stay here with you!”

He tipped his head, the corner of his lip twitching up slightly.

“Why is that, little one?”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“First of all, I’m NOT little, and second, an Orc camp is no place for a lady.”

A shudder that had nothing to do with fear shot down your spine as his eyes moved over your body. He crossed the room, scooping you up, and setting you on his table. Your feet dangled far from the ground.

“What- What are you doing?” you snapped, waving your weapon at him.

“My neck was hurting from looking down at you. You’re very short.”

The sparkle in his eyes told you he was teasing you, which drew heat to your cheeks.

“Maybe compared to you. You’re unnecessarily large. What are you doing with all of that muscle? Are you going to arm wrestle your books?” you pouted, eyes drifting to the massive bicep peeking out of the fur vest he wore.

He laughed out loud, gracing you with a wide smile.

“You’ll fit right in here.”

You raised your nose at him, trying to look unconvinced.

“Where will I even sleep? All of your tents are big and drafty.”

“Since you’ve declared your intention to court me, I wouldn’t mind if you slept here.”

“Declared my intention to— Where did you get that idea?”

He flicked a fingertip at your poker.

“In the old days, Orc females came to their males' tent and threatened them into submission with their favorite weapon.”

Your cheeks burned like hot irons, and you almost dropped it.

“Well…I’m not trying to court you. It’s for protection.”

He snorted at you but nodded his head.

“If you say so, little one, but it will be much warmer in my tent if it’s drafts you’re worried about.”

“I don’t even know your name. Ash called you something in your language. I didn’t understand…”

He examined one of the feet you had dangling over the edge of his table. Compared to his big hand, it was tiny.

“Cautalin, it means something close to general in your language, but you can call me Cedar. That’s what my mother named me.”

Your eyes traveled over his barrel chest and thick arms.

“Seems about right,” you said, finally setting your poker down.

He picked it up, looked it over, and tested the weight in his hand.

“Not a bad choice,” he said. “Light but effective.”

You glanced up at him through your eyelashes, feeling cheeky.

“Do you feel like submitting?”

You watched a flicker of heat ignite in his eyes, and he slowly set it down.

“Come on, let's get you to bed, killer.”

He picked you up again, walking you over to a large pallet covered in furs.

“This is your bed.”

He gave you another smile.

“We’re in the middle of a battle; I won't be sleeping tonight. It's all yours.”

Though you weren't quite sure about sleeping in his bed, weariness overtook you at the sight of the comfortable, cozy furs, and you crawled in, wrapping yourself up to your chin in blankets.

He put your poker next to you and blew out the candle, slipping out the front flap as you dozed.

—

You woke to yelling, but not the sound of battle. Crawling out of your furs, you picked up your poker and peeled out of the flap Cedar used as a door. Another Orc you didn't recognize was the one yelling, and Cedar had his arms crossed, looking bored.

Your eyes drifted to about twenty women, elderly, and children, cowering in the chilly morning air, their faces streaked with soot from the fire.

“They’re our enemies!” the strange Orc barked.

“Really, Asvoth? Are you really afraid of a handful of children and their mothers?”

“This is a war camp, not a nursery.”

“It's my camp, not yours. They stay.”

“I outrank you. I can take your command.”

Cedar snorted.

“Yet the King hasn't trusted you with a unit of your own. You're nothing more than an errand boy with a fancy title. Any of these children could take your job.”

Asvoth’s face turned a deep forest green from both embarrassment and indignation. He yanked the sword he wore on his back to his hand. Without thinking, you hopped in front of Cedar, waving your poker at the intruder. You had no idea why, a fact you only considered after you’d already put yourself in harm's way. Still, you'd made your move so the only thing to do was follow through.

“You heard Cedar! We’re not leaving! Get on if you know what's good for you!”

Asvoth sprung forward, dropping his sword toward your head. Your eyes squeezed shut, preparing for pain, but there was only the clang of metal. Opening one eye, you glanced up to see Cedar’s axe blocking the other Orc’s blow.

There was a moment when you thought Asvoth might overtake him, but Cedar’s muscles weren't all for show. He shoved the other Orc back, and he toppled over, landing on his butt in the dirt. His sword landed in front of the children with a CLANG.

“Woah!” the little ones cheered, circling around it like it was a strange animal.

A few of them tried to pick it up, but it was far too heavy, making their eyes pop even wider.

Cedar nodded at him, and a pair of Orcs from the camp dragged Asvoth up by the collar of his tunic, pushing him towards the forest.

“I'm reporting this!” He shouted over his shoulder as he stumbled towards the woods.

Cedar waved a hand at one of his Orcs, beckoning him closer.

“You and Orin follow him and make sure the King gets our side of the story, not his.”

When the situation seemed settled, Cedar looked down at you and patted your head.

“Thank you for your protection, little suitor,” he said with a smirk.

Your cheeks blew up in flames, but you puffed your chest and looked at the children watching Ash pick up the abandoned sword. They hopped around him like little bunnies, begging him to teach them to use it.

“I have no idea what you mean! I’m here to make noodles! Point me in the direction of my kitchen! These little mouths are probably hungry.”

He chuckled, but guided you with a large hand on your back to a large tent filled with whatever food supplies they had rescued from the village. You wrinkled your nose at the primitive workspace, but there were enough flour and eggs to work with. You were surprised to find someone had stuck in a lower table, perfect for your height. After washing your hands in a water basin, you got to cooking.

“What are you still doing here?” you asked Cedar, who had plopped down in a chair and was reading a book.

He smiled.

“Reading.”

You blinked at him, putting your floury fists on your hips. “Are you surveilling me? I’m not going to poison you all! I have to eat this too, you know.”

He tipped his head to the side, his gold eyes sparkling in the makeshift hearth.

“The sound of cooking is soothing. I liked to study in the kitchen while my mother cooked when I was a boy.”

You looked him up and down.

“I can’t imagine you as a child.”

You thought for a second, tapping your chin.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen an Orc child, actually.”

He looked back down at his book, shifting in his seat to get comfortable.

“You will,” he said as he flipped a page.

Your brow wrinkled at that nebulous statement, but you knew everyone was hungry after the long night, so you got back to work.

By midmorning, you had a stewpot big enough to feed an army filled with noodles, vegetables, and what little bit of venison the Orcs had been able to hunt between the battle.

“All done,” you said, clapping your hands and creating a puff of flour in the air.

Cedar got up and shouted something to his men, and two Orcs appeared to carry the big vat into the central circle so it could be served. You felt a sense of satisfaction when all the bowls were passed out and the children, tired humans, and bloodied Orcs were eating. The mothers spoke quietly between one another, while the children could hardly sit still, their big eyes following the Orcs every movement.

“Here.”

You looked up to find Cedar holding a bowl out to you. A grumbling stomach had you accepting it, and he patted the seat next to him for you to sit down. The two of you ate quietly for a moment before you asked him a question.

“What are you going to do with all of us?”

“Hmm?” he asked.

“Well, I mean when the battle is over. We have nowhere to go. Our town is destroyed.”

He looked at the children who, after scarfing down their bowls, were engaged in some game with Ash.

“I was hoping you would all return to our capitol city with us. That’s where we live when we’re not fighting.”

Your eyebrows jumped.

“To the Orc city? We’re humans. Don’t your people hate us?”

He shrugged.

“There are some weak minds who reveal their own fragility with their hate, but the rest of us like your kind. This whole war started because we wished to create allies amongst the humans.”

“What? The soldiers said you attacked!”

He chuckled.

“Your king has a very effective propaganda engine. That’s probably the only thing about him that is effective. We sent a delegation party to him to discuss our interest in mingling with you humans. You all are prolific; despite your size, you’re a sturdy bunch. We thought marriages would bolster our numbers and strengthen your stock. Your King attacked, and we were forced to defend ourselves. The force that attacked us was decimated, and he declared war.”

“You mean…you wish to mate with us?”

His eyes slid down to you, and he gave you a sharp nod.

“Is that so surprising?”

You thought about it for a moment.

“I don’t know…Maybe a little. You’re so strong. You’re not afraid we’ll diminish you?”

His thick hand cupped your chin and rubbed some flour away with his thumb. Your heart raced at his touch.

“Size is not what makes us strong. Our strength lies in our unbreakable bonds. Your King will be defeated, not because his forces are less than ours, but because he orders his men to betray his own people.”

He nodded towards the children, who were playing chicken fight on Ash and another Orc’s shoulders.

“They will remember it was men who burned down their village, stole their fathers from them, assaulted their mothers and Orcs who took them in, fed them, and helped them smile again.

“I suppose you’re right,” you agreed.

His smile widened.

“I will remember you took up arms to protect me against an enemy twice your size. You belong among the us.”

Suddenly the wool dress you wore was much too hot.

“I should go wash these before the next meal,” you squeaked, grabbing his empty bowl and scurrying away.

Once safe in the kitchen tent, you pressed your hand against your chest, trying to still your heart. Why did Cedar make you feel so fluttery? You’d never felt this way around anyone before. You usually kept to yourself and steered clear of romance. It had to be the battle, you decided. You were still hyped up from the night before. In a day or so, you were sure it would pass.

Dunking empty bowls in ice-cold river water helped cool your thoughts as you tried to focus on what to make for dinner. The Orcs stocks were pretty hefty, but they and the children ate a lot. You’d noticed many of the parents tipping some of their bowls into their little one’s, making sure they were fed properly in case the next meal didn’t come.

It saddened you it had to be this way. What horrible person decides to burn down their own citizens' village? Who was the King even protecting you from? Not the Orcs, that’s for sure.

A loud rabble outside dragged your attention away from the dishes, and you picked up your poker before peeking your head outside.

A few Orc scouts were speaking in rapid Orcish to Cedar. When they paused, his eyes immediately looked around for the children and frowned before he spoke to you all.

“The human King has sent reinforcements. They will close on our camp by nightfall.”

The mothers all gathered their children to their skirts, looking weary.

“Women and children to the kitchen tent! We will keep you safe, but you must stay hidden!”

You made way as a small stampede of humans rushed past you, many pushing their children to hide under the table.

“What’s happening?” You asked Cedar as people and Orcs rushed around.

He scrubbed his hand over his jaw, looking disturbed.

“Someone ran back to your King with a story that we’d kidnapped you, not taken you in from starving in a burnt-down village. We will win this fight, but then we will have to make the journey back to the capitol. They will keep attacking if they think you’re within their grasp. Do you think you can explain this to your people? We don’t intend to take anyone by force, but I wouldn’t trust the King’s soldiers.”

“Yes, of course. Whatever you need.”

You hurried back to the kitchen, where the humans were muttering to one another.

“Should we flee to the forest?” Isla, the former town candlemaker, asked. “Can we depend on the Orcs to protect us?”

Another woman scoffed.

“We can’t trust anyone. These Orcs are kind now, but they’ll sell us out at the drop of a hat.”

Linda, a quiet woman who worked as a weaver, whimpered.

“But we’ll starve in the forest alone. Word is the King’s men have raized every town for fifty miles!”

You inserted yourself into the conversation, holding up your hands.

“No one needs to escape to the woods. The Orcs are going to take us back to their capitol to keep us safe.”

Linda squeaked in horror.

“The Orc capitol?! Where they can enslave us?!”

“They have no plan to enslave you. Don’t you want your children to be safe? We will be safe behind their walls!”

“Or…when the King takes the city we’ll all be hung as traitors!”

“Shawna, don’t put that in her head. Linda, we’ll be fine. I trust Cedar.”

You paused on that thought, realizing not only was it true, it didn’t make any sense. You’d only just met him. Your conversation was interrupted by the shouting of men outside.

“We’ll talk about this later,” you hissed, “Here, take this.”

You armed the humans with whatever haphazard weapons you could find, mostly butcher knives and skillets.

Outside, you could hear the clang of weapons and the squelching sounds of metal piercing flesh.

“What's happening?” Linda asked, trying to get around you so she could peek out of the tent flap.

“Stay back!” You barked. “If they see us, we’re in trouble!”

You could tell she was losing it, hopping from one foot to another, her hands getting slippery on her knife.

“No, no, no,” she whimpered. “I don’t want to go with the Orcs. Even a human monster is better than them!”

Before you could grab her, she skipped through the doorway, running wildly into the fray. The other humans gathered around you, their opinions spilling out like loose marbles.

“What is she thinking?!”

“Linda, come back!”

“Let her go, she’s nuts.”

You clenched your jaw, squeezing your iron poker.

“She’s scared. I’ll go get her…you all stay put!”

Before anyone could stop you, you darted after her, trying to catch sight of her red skirt through the mess of armour-clad humans and massive Orcs. The King had sent a much larger force than the one that had burned down your village. The battle around you was brutal. You almost slipped on a puddle of blood, your eyes frantically searching for Linda.

You found her pointing her knife with shaking hands at a human soldier.

“What are you doing? I’m a human, too!”

“The King ordered you all dead!” he snarled, raising his sword at her. “No witnesses! Come on, do your duty to the kingdom, and die quietly!”

Panicking, you launched yourself at him, whacking him with your poker as you barreled into him. The two of you went down, metal clashing as you fell and dropped your weapons. Both of you scrabbled for purchase in the blood-soaked earth. You could hear Linda screeching beside you as you tried to overpower the soldier. His armor, now slick with mud, made it impossible to get a hold of him, and he triumphantly dragged himself to his sword, clumsily grabbing it by the blade and flinging it in your direction. You saw the metal flash in the firelight before pain exploded between your eyes, and your vision went black.

—

“Please tell me she’s not dead,” you heard Linda’s voice from far away.

Isla scoffed.

“You’d better hope she’s not, Linda. This is all your fault!”

“I'm sorry!” she simpered, “I made a mistake! I thought the soldiers were here to free us!”

“Free us from what? A good meal and a safe place to sleep?”

You dragged your eyelids open, vision blurry for a moment before it cleared.

“What…what happened?” you murmured.

“She’s awake!” Isla gasped.

You felt her cool hands against your cheek.

“Take it slow, here; have some water.”

She pushed a tin cup into your hands, and you wet your palette with a few sips. Looking around, you were surrounded by the humans, all looking very concerned.

“Is everyone okay?” you asked.

Isla smirked, and the other women tittered a bit.

“Thanks to you, I suppose. That chieftain or warlord or whatever saw you get knocked in the head and went berzerk. He killed most of the soldiers all by himself.”

Another woman poked her head out of the tent.

“She’s okay! You guys can untie him!”

“Untie who? Is the battle over?”

Isla nodded.

“Yeah, all the soldiers are dead. We’ve all been waiting for you to wake up so we can move the camp before the King sends anymore. Can you believe he ordered them to kill us? I guess so he could claim the Orcs did it and get more support for the war.”

She smirked at you.

“And as for who's tied up, your Orc friend thought you were dead. The others had to tie him up so he wouldn’t go on a rampage. He was ready to storm the King’s stronghold! You ought to see the ropes they had to use…thick as your waist!”

You heard the roll of stomping feet, and Cedar burst through the tent flap. His hair was wild, and his tunic was red with blood. He fell to his knees in front of you, holding his hands as if he couldn’t decide if you were safe to touch.

“Are you okay?” he asked, carefully prodding the bandage you had wrapped around your head. “That monster didn’t do any permanent damage, did he?”

“She’ll have a scar,” Isla said, “but I think she’s fine.”

Cedar’s face lightened, pulling you towards him, his big arms wrapping around you.

“Thank the goddess,” he sighed with a heavy breath. “I thought they’d taken you from me.”

He cupped your cheeks between his palms when he finally let you go.

“You are so stupidly brave, little one,” he gasped, eyes wet. “You have more honor than your people deserve.”

Behind him, Isla waved the women out of the tent, leaving the two of you alone. Not used to so much intimate attention, your cheeks warmed, and you weren’t sure where to look.

“I just didn’t want Linda to get hurt,” you muttered.

He gave you an odd smile, scooping you out of the cot you’d woken up in.

“Once I get you to our home in the capitol, I’m going to have to keep you locked up for your own safety,” he said, patting your head.

You looked up at him from where you were tucked, leaning on his bicep.

“Our home?”

He grinned at you, counting on his fingers.

“First step to Orc courting: Threaten your desired with your weapon. Done. Step two: Allure them with your cooking skills, cooking or hunting something delicious. Done. And the final step: Display your honor through a grand act of bravery. Done! You’ve effectively and thoroughly seduced me, little one! All that’s left is to take you home!”

He tipped your chin up with one thick finger and dipped his head to press his lips against yours. Your whole body felt like it was made of butterflies, every nerve flickering with excitement. Despite being covered in blood and mud, his kiss tasted like honey and sage. It felt like a warm cup of tea on a chilly morning. Your eyelashes fluttered shut and you sank into his warmth, despite yourself, happy to be alive and in his arms.

“Oh!” you gasped as he straightened his neck.

Your mouth fell open, unsure what to say. Before you could think of anything, Cedar carried you out of the tent, shouting orders at his men to pack up the camp so you could leave for the capitol.

#monster x girl #orc x reader #monster x reader #x reader #yandere x reader #soft yandere #orc boyfriend #monster romance #monster fluff #male yandere #yandere fluff #yandere romance #monster boyfriend #orc #orc romance

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jjngkook7 · 6 months

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Choices (7)

Werewolf Au! Jungkook x Reader / Enemies to Lovers [Angst and mature content. Not smut but almost smut.]

Summary: Jungkook finally found her. His mate. His lifelong partner. But she’s a human. Does he have to stay with her or can he stick it to whatever and whoever binds mates together and make his own decision?

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

You groaned as you finally shut off your alarm. After hitting the snooze button four times, you only had 30 minutes to get ready for work. As you dragged yourself out of bed and into your washroom, you thought about your dream last night. It was still a nightmare but not as gruesome as it usually was. Entering your washroom, you grimaced at the person staring back at you in the mirror. Your eyebags were heavy and your skin flat and colorless. Due to your inability to get up on time, you could only afford to wash your face and brush your hair if you wanted to at least have a coffee before work. Oh, the joys of Monday’s.

It seemed like your morning really set a precedent on how the rest of your day was going to be. You were 15 minutes late to work because of traffic, you forgot about a meeting that you set up and lunch was a bag of chips because you forgot your wallet at home. Needing to leave the chaos of the office, you decided to eat your sad lunch at a park. You ignored how cold your bottom was getting against the park bench as you watched the people around you go about their day.

“Rough day at the office?” an all too familiar voice asked.

You looked up and locked eyes with Jungkook. Great, now I'm hallucinating. If having visions of Jungkook wasn’t bad enough already, he looked better than you remembered. His hair was a little longer now and his eyes bright amber.

“Hello?” Jungkook waved his hand in front of you.

You reached out and grabbed his hand. A jolt of electricity shoots through you.

“Oh you are real…oh my god! You’re-what are you doing here?!” it felt like you had just went through all five stages of grief in a nanosecond.

Jungkook watched in real time as the sleep vanishes from your eyes. He waits for you to collect yourself before taking a seat next to you on the bench. His body shivered not from the cold but from the sudden energy radiating between both of you. After being away for so long, he forgot just how strong the pull of a mate was.

“Aren't you cold?” you asked bewildered by how he was only in a long sleeve and jeans.

Jungkook wanted to laugh. He knew you were probably freezing from how pale your fingers were. He also noticed the tiredness on your face and wondered if you had been sleeping at all.

“How long do you have left for your lunch break?” he asked, ignoring your question.

“20 minutes.” you replied.

Jungkook nods and quickly tried to figure out how to tell you that your life was in danger and that the only way to save you was to live with him for a bit and let him mark you.

“I think we’re going to need more than 20 minutes,” he says.

Jungkook was able to explain the situation to you within 20 minutes, leaving out the part where he had to mark you. The argument that happened afterwards lasted 30 minutes. You couldn’t just move to the mountains when you had a job to show up to and who was going to pay rent for the unit you were already living in? In the same breath, Jungkook explained that it was dangerous to live so close to civilization in case there was an attack and shared how much he didn’t want to live with you.

“Do you not hear the absurdity of what you’re asking me to do?” you argued.

“Do you think I want to do this?” Jungkook sneered.

“Then don’t!” you exclaimed.

“Fine!” he shouted, matching the volume of your voice.

“Fine!” you shouted back before marching back to your office, your bag of chips forgotten on the bench.

__________________________________

Jungkook adjusted his cap as he waited for you to leave your house. He rolled his eyes when he heard your alarm ring for the third time signifying that you had no intention of getting up. You’re going to be late again idiot.

After your guys’ encounter at the park, Namjoon reamed Jungkook out for being stubborn and doing the exact opposite of what he was supposed to do. They came up with a compromise that Jungkook hated even more than the original plan. Night and day, Jungkook would essentially watch you from afar in case a rogue decided to attack. He’d follow you to work, to the grocery store and home. At night, Jungkook would make rounds around your neighborhood until late and then head back to his own home before repeating it all again the next day. Before he knew it, Jungkook's life revolved around you now.

“One more snooze and you would’ve been screwed.” Jungkook grinned when you opened the door.

Biting your tongue, you locked the front door before making your way past him. You were already running on a couple hours of sleep and seeing Jungkook’s shit eating grin this early in the morning made you want to scream. Unbeknownst to Jungkook, your sleep schedule had gotten worse now that you knew your life was at risk. If you were lucky, you’d only wake up twice in the night. Despite the lack of privacy, knowing that Jungkook was around just in case anything happened did give you some sort of reassurance. You’d never admit it to anyone, but you kind of liked having him around. Sure, he’d make your anger spike anytime he spoke but his presence added some excitement to your daily mundane routine. When you were out and about, you’d try to spot him in a crowd like a game of “Where’s Waldo”. It was getting harder for Jungkook to hide his amusement anytime you would find him because when you did, you’d stick out your tongue at him. He did noticed that you continued to look more and more tired than before. He had wondered what was causing you so much stress but pushed the thought away because that wasn’t part of the job description.

As you stood in front of your office building, you turned your head to see where Jungkook was. Scanning through the crowd of people on their way to work, you finally locked eyes with him and inhaled sharply. It was always a sensation overload whenever you looked at him because his amber eyes would pierce right through you. After the initial shock, a smile crept onto your face. Jungkook was trying to keep a low profile with his all black outfit and baseball cap but he didn’t realize how much he stood out like a sore thumb. Everyone bustling through were clad in thick winter coats and layers upon layers just to keep warm yet there he was standing at the end of the block with nothing but a black flannel button up and jeans. With one more glance, you made your way into your building excited to see him again later. Once you were out of sight, Jungkook immediately made a quick dash back to your house. Last night, Jungkook picked up the faintest scent of a rogue, but this morning the smell strong and near.

As he approached your home, he slowed down and tried to process what he was smelling and sensing carefully. Fortunately, he only picked up the scent of one rogue but the claw marks on the side of your house and fresh tracks in the snow meant that Jungkook was a little too late.

Usually, Jungkook kept his distance when he would follow you around but something must’ve happened between the morning and now because he was walking right beside you. It wasn’t the brushing of your bodies when you bumped into each other that formed the butterflies in your stomach but his hand on your lower back leading you home that did it. Jungkook kept you almost right up against him and you felt embarrassed for relishing in both his touch and smell. It was concerning how much you didn’t care about your safety when being this close to him felt so good. On the flipside, Jungkook could not afford to have his attention waver for even a second. He had to somehow cut through all the sounds and smells of the city just to pick up a stray whiff of any rogues. Jungkook was glad to have his attention focused elsewhere than on how your body was reacting to him. If he thought about it too much, his ego would grow too large for him to handle. You were usually so difficult to deal with and so stubborn but all he had was one hand on your lower back and you were compliant to his every word. Would you still be such a pain in the ass if you were under him? Could you possibly talk back if you were writhing from his touch? And what could you possibly say when he’s shoved down your throat?

“Do not open the door unless it’s me.” Jungkook ordered before pushing you into your house and slamming the door shut.

You take a moment to calm your heart. All you could think about was how his hand eventually wrapped around your waist and how strong his grip was. Once the high wore off, you dragged yourself upstairs to get ready for your night feeling less scared than you should. If Jungkook could muster through his hatred for you to keep you safe on the way home, you knew that you were in good hands.

You stirred awake and checked the time on your phone. 2:05am. You plopped your head back onto your pillow and tried to get back to sleep. You tried to still your mind but the heavy pitter patter against your window made it hard to do. Guess I'm awake now. Luckily, you didn't have work tomorrow so you and your insomnia could be friends for a night. You sat up and ran a hand through your hair as you stared out the window. You wondered if Jungkook was still outside or if he went home. If he was still here, he'd be soaked to the bone. Do werewolves catch colds? Putting on your slippers, you made your way to the front door and opened it. You scanned the driveway and sidewalk but with how heavy the rain was falling, it was hard to see. You took a step outside to see if he was around the corner but before you could turn your head, Jungkook himself appeared from the other side of where you were looking.

"I thought I told you not to open this door." he sighed annoyingly.

You felt your throat go dry when you saw him. He was dripping from head to toe and you envied the way his shirt clung onto his body.

"It's raining really hard and I didn't know if you were still outside." you said after prying your eyes away from his body.

"I told you to keep the door closed unless it's for me." he argued.

"Yeah well it is for you because I wanted to check up on you, god." you bite back. Jungkook had such a sour attitude but he truly was such a sight for your sore tired eyes.

You look over his shoulder and see that the rain was pouring even harder with no plans to stop. Had he just been patrolling your place since you finished work? Supernatural or not, Jungkook shouldn't be standing around in this weather.

"You should come in and rest." you said, after much consideration.

Jungkook immediately shook his head and backed away from you, "Why would I do that?"

"Because you're soaking wet! And besides, you've been roaming around for hours and if my neighbours get suspicious they might call the cops." you challenged.

Jungkook falls silent and you see his eyes shift from side to side, trying to look for something that wasn't there.

"Jungkook you've been out here since I got home. Whatever's out there would've gotten you by now. Please, just come inside and dry off for a little bit," you plead, "I won't be able to sleep knowing you're just out in the rain for no reason."

I'm out here for you. You're the fucking reason. Jungkook chewed the inside of his cheeks in thought. The invitation was tempting. He was absolutely exhausted and after staring at the dark day in and day out, his mind was starting to play tricks on him. Protecting you was one thing but his pride was bruised. All he did for the past few hours was ruminate on how he didn't see or smell the rogue. He wanted to crush the thing and kill it with his bare hands to make up for his inattentiveness, but he was tired. You took his silence as compliance and stepped aside so he could come in. Before Jungkook could mentally brace himself, the overwhelming smell of you sent his senses into overdrive. He placed a hand against the wall and took deep breaths. Every time he inhaled, it felt like his brain was going to pop out of his skull. The lights were too bright, the sound of the rain too loud and your scent was so strong he could almost taste you.

"Are you okay...?" you asked as you slowly closed the door.

Jungkook's back and the tension throughout his body brought you back to when you found him in that abandoned shed. You mentally cursed wondering if tonight was going to be another repeat. To your surprise, Jungkook managed to compose himself and turned around to face you. From how his usual amber eyes were now maroon, you knew he still wasn't quite back.

"W-where is your washroom? I'm going to clean up." he asked, his voice strained.

You direct him to your washroom and watch as he staggered away. When you heard the sink turn on, you quickly ran to your room to grab what you could to prepare the sofa for him. As you searched through your closet for an extra blanket, it quickly dawned on you that Jungkook was in your house and was going to stay the night. Suddenly, you were hyper aware of all the embarrassing things you owned. When you finally found your extra blanket, you suppressed a groan at the Sanrio characters decorating the duvet. He's here to rest not judge your choice of home decor. You grab a pillow from your bed and made your way back to the living room. As you were setting up the couch, you noticed the mess of cups and candy wrappers on the coffee table. If you knew that you would house a werewolf that was supposedly your soulmate, you would've cleaned up a bit more. Pushing the thought away, you made your way towards the bathroom where Jungkook hadn't made a sound. He's not dead is he? You took a deep breath before bravely poking your head through the door to check on him. The sight before you literally stole the inhale you had just taken away. You had imagined Jungkook shirtless many times before but your imagination was truly nothing compared to what he looked like in real life. Jungkook was leaned over the sink, his wet shirt by his feet as he wiped his chest with your towel with one hand. Every time he brushed his hand against his body, the muscles in his arms flexed. The raindrops cascading down the curves of his shoulder blades and back polluted your mind with lewd scenarios.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Jungkook scoffed.

You mumbled a pathetic apology as your eyes continued trailing down his body. The deep gash on his arm reeled you out of your perverted psyche. Without thinking, you quickly approached him and inspected his wound.

"Jungkook, you need to go to the hospital." you gasp at how torn up his arm looked.

"Please." Jungkook almost laughed.

You shoot him a look and push him aside to grab the first aid kit under the sink. Jungkook watched in amusement as you rummaged through your kit to find something to treat his wound. You seemed to forget that he was not of this world. This injury would heal in a week and a bandaid was not going to help.

"Give me you arm." you demanded setting a tube of polysporin and bandage wraps on the counter.

Jungkook raised his brow, "Are you going to make me a bowl of chicken noodle soup and put on my favourite cartoon as well?"

How this asshole was your soulmate was beyond you by how quickly he was able to bring you to anger within seconds. Jungkook could hate you all he wanted, but he didn't have to make you feel useless while doing so. For the past week and a half, he was literally supervising you like you were a child and it made you feel so foolish.

"Can you just let me do something for once? Just let me-" you exhaled with closed eyes, "let me feel like I'm helping for once."

Jungkook let out a sarcastic "ok" and surrendered his arm to you. You unscrewed the cap from the polysporin and wanted to kick yourself for dropping it during the process. It was really hard to focus when he was staring at you in his shirtless glory. Ignoring the fallen cap, you pushed out the ointment onto your finger and reached for his arm. The jolt you usually received whenever you guys touched made you flinch.

"You're okay." Jungkook encouraged after feeling the power from the shock himself.

Biting your lower lip, you gently grabbed his arm again and waited a few seconds for the sensation to pass before rubbing the medicine onto his cut. Jungkook watched are you carefully tended to him. In his absorption of your actions, he couldn't feel the corner of his lip turning upwards and the silencing of his mind. All he could hear was your breathing and if he focused a little more, the fluttering of your eyelashes as you blinked. It was endearing watching you meticulously layer the bandage perfectly on his arm. The treatment you were giving Jungkook was going to do absolutely nothing for him besides make him itchy. His species didn't heal like humans. They were able to heal on their own and if they were mated, their healing time was even quicker. You released the bite you had on your lower lip once you successfully wrapped him up.

"I'll let you do your own thing now," you laughed awkwardly stepping away from him, "There are extra towels under the sink and the sofa is all set up for you."

Jungkook holds your eyes for a few seconds and you see that they're back to their usual amber colour.

"Goodnight," he nods.

"Goodnight," you repeat before retreating back to your room.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you slept through the night.

You woke up a lot earlier than you intended to but you felt refreshed. You didn't have any nightmares, in fact, you didn't dream at all. You graciously welcomed the daylight that usually disturbed your already horrible sleep shining through your window. As you put on your slippers, the butterflies in your stomach swarmed when you remembered that Jungkook had slept over. You sat on the edge of your bed and slapped your cheeks from how hard you were grinning. He was probably gone by now but you were going to spend the whole weekend replaying last night in privacy. You giddily swing your bedroom door open and immediately froze. You held your breath and didn't move a single muscle as to not wake the sleeping Jungkook on your couch. After an agonizing minute, you quietly approached him with pursed lips. He was sound asleep with his mouth slightly agape. When Jungkook wasn't speaking or awake in general, he sure looked like an angel. The skittish grin you had on earlier crept back at the sight of him all curled up in your Sanrio blanket. Jungkook rarely let his guard down yet here he was sleeping so peacefully in your home. He had to ability to hear a pin drop in a crowded room so judging by how he didn't wake up from the slight noises you made, poor guy was probably drained. You desperately fought the desire to brush his bangs away from his eyes and left to go wash up instead.

You rolled your eyes when you see the bandage you so caringly put on Jungkook last night in the garbage next to your toilet. You couldn't at least flush it down or hide it? Ass. Still, he let you tend to him and that was good enough for you. Jungkook was still asleep by the time you finished your morning routine. You crept back into your room and decided to clean up. You had completely ignored the state of your home with the little sleep you were getting every night. You looked over to your laundry basket by the window that had been taunting you for weeks and decided to finally tackle it. Sitting down in front of it, you began to sort your white and coloured clothes. As you thought about the things you wanted to get done today, you began to feel excited about the prospect of having a productive weekend when your bedroom door suddenly swung open, the hinges breaking in the process. A frantic looking Jungkook entered followed by a curse when he saw where you positioned.

"Get behind me right now!" he shouted.

Your body and brain freezes from the sudden shock, "W-what?"

"Can you fucking listen to me for once and just-"

Your bedroom window shatters and a black mass breaks through. A scream emits from you when the rogue snaps at your arms. You scramble backwards as the creature attempts to wedge its body through the fracture it created. If you were any closer, you would've been a goner. The absolute depravity of the monster fills your entire body up with fear as flashbacks from the first time you ever encountered a rogue replay in your mind. You couldn't feel your legs and all you could do was scramble back as far as you could go. Tears immediately flood your eyes when the creature snarls and breaks free of the glass that was holding it back. There was absolutely nothing you could do as the creature lunges towards you, the smile it has on it's face seared into your brain. Another scream escapes from you as Jungkook grabs its neck and slams it onto your bedroom floor. Your stomach turns when you see it squirm abnormally under his grasp. The rogue produces high pitched cackling as Jungkook delivers blow after blow to its face.

"Close your eyes." Jungkook orders and you do as you're told.

You choke out a sob when you hear the sick animal laugh as Jungkook tears its flesh apart and breaks its bones. Eventually, the room falls silent but you keep your eyes shut afraid of what you might see. You jump when Jungkook places his hands on your arms.

"Hey it's just me, it's me. It's okay, it's over now." he attempts to soothe you while grabbing your hands, halting your useless attempts to push him away.

When you finally come to, you grab onto him and push your face into his chest. Jungkook tells you to keep your eyes closed as he carries you into the living room, not wanting you to see the aftermath of what he did. He holds your trembling body as tightly as he can and waits for your sobbing to subside. Once he hears your sobs turn into sniffles, he lifts your face from your hands and through your teary vision, you see an apologetic expression plastered on his face.

"I'm packing a bag for you. Tell me what you need, we leave in 20 minutes." he says.

You try to fight against his hold, but he's much stronger than you.

"Jungkook! I can't leave-I can't-"

"We don't have a choice now," he says, his voice soft as ever, "this is the only way I can protect you."

#bts fanfic #jungkook werewolf #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts werewolf au #bts smut #bts #jungkook smut #yoongi #jimin #namjoon #taehyung #hoseok #jin #bts x reader #jungkook werewolf au #choices

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 7 months

Text

Hope

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader, Crowley & Winchester!reader (platonic)

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: (very very loosely) set during 5x10 when Sam and Dean get killed and go to heaven (doesn’t follow cannon really)

Crowley took in the room before him, a pit opening up in his gut at the gruesome scene. Sam and Dean were splayed out on their respective beds, chests gaping open from near-identical bullet wounds. And then there was you.

The brothers’ young sister was sitting on the floor between the two beds, the demon-summoning ingredients in front of her. She was shaking from head to foot and her eyes were red-rimmed and wild with desperation. Her eyes met Crowley’s, and he nearly staggered back just seeing the haunted terror residing there.

“Darling…” Crowley’s voice was quiet, apologetic.

“You have to bring them back,” you whimpered. “Please.”

“I…I can’t,” he sighed. “Just because I’m king doesn’t mean I can just reanimate whoever I want. Not without…” Crowley stopped suddenly, but it was too late. Your eyes lit up with realization. “No,” Crowley said, but you were already nodding.

“I’ll do it,” you said. “You can have my soul, just bring them back!”

“It’s not that simple. If the demons find out that I brought their biggest threats back to life…” he was stalling, and you both knew it. He didn’t want your soul in hell, but he would never admit that.

“Please,” you pleaded. “Crowley, I-“ your voice cracked. “Please. I-I can’t live without them.”

Crowley looked from the boys’ dead bodies to you, then back again. You followed his gaze, your eyes settling on Sam first, then Dean.

“It was hunters.” Your lip quivered. “They-they said Sam was evil, and-and he had to be stopped. Then-then Dean recognized them, so they said that…” your voice cracked as tears slid down your cheeks. You took a deep breath before continuing. “They said they had to kill him, too, so that he wouldn’t come after them. De-Dean didn’t even care.” A sob wracked your body, and Crowley had to resist the sudden surprising urge to comfort you. “He didn’t care that they were gonna kill him, he-he just told them over and-and over not to kill me. I guess they thought I couldn’t be much of a threat.” You pulled your knees up to your chest, and your next sentence was so quiet that Crowley had to strain to hear. “I wish they got me, too.”

Crowley had been ready to leave you here, to turn down your deal and walk out and leave you with your brothers’ corpses. He didn’t want to make this deal, he didn’t want Sam and Dean screwing things up for him in hell, and he didn’t want you, just a kid, to give up your soul. You didn’t deserve hell.

But the last thing you said—your wish to die alongside your brothers.

Crowley couldn’t turn away from that.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

…

Crowley was gone before Sam and Dean opened their eyes. They sat up simultaneously, identical gasps leaving their throats as they breathed again for the first time.

You were off the floor and in their arms before they even knew what was happening.

…

“What happened?” Dean asked after he had gotten his bearings. “We were caught by Zachariah, how did we…” Dean caught sight of the summoning ingredients on the motel floor, and it hit him like a truck. Sam and him hadn’t gotten out by themselves.

“No…” Sam breathed, his gaze following Dean’s. “Y/N, no, tell me you didn’t.”

“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t have done the same,” was your response.

You flinched when Dean slammed his hand against the desk.

“What were you thinking?” He demanded.

“That I wasn’t about to let the two of you die,” you shot back.

“We could’ve gotten out ourselves!” Dean exploded. “The angels need us alive!”

“Yeah, but they would’ve tortured you until you said yes to Michael and Lucifer first!”

“How long did you get?” Sam’s quiet voice interrupted you and Dean’s shouting match. His tone sobered the room.

“A year.” Your voice was no longer strong or defensive. You were scared, and the boys could see it instantly.

“We’re gonna get you out of this,” Dean promised. “You’re not going to hell. I’m gonna call Crowley and—“

“Who do you think I made a deal with?” You sighed. “He may be the king of hell, but there’s only so much he can do. It was dangerous enough for him bringing you guys back as it was.”

“I don’t care,” Dean said. “He helped get you into this, he’s gonna help get you out.”

…

The year passed faster than anyone had anticipated. Crowley never answered when the Winchesters summoned or called, and they hadn’t been able to track him down or summon any other demons either.

You were on your last day, sitting on a motel bed next to your brothers, when he finally made contact.

“Hello, boys. Y/N.”

All three Winchesters nearly jumped out of their skins at the sudden appearance of the king.

“It’s about time, Crowley,” Dean growled. “We’ve been trying to contact you for—“

“Three hundred sixty-four days, twenty-three hours, and twenty-six minutes,” Crowley interrupted. “Y/N’s almost out of time.”

“Exactly,” said Dean. “Now fix your mess.”

“I can’t undo a deal, Squirrel.” Crowley couldn’t meet your eye as he spoke. “There’s nothing I can—“

While his gaze was focused on Dean, he didn’t notice Sam pulling out the demon knife until it was up against his throat.

“Then why are you here?!” Sam demanded.

“I can’t undo the deal,” Crowley said, his hands raised defensively. “Nor can I tell you about the hidden escape hatch out of hell. It would be utter treason for me to accidentally leave Y/N’s cell door in hell open in exactly seventeen hours and twelve minutes, when the guards change. It would be an affront of all I stand for to give you boys this address,” Crowley reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, handing it to Dean while Sam kept the knife on him. “It also wouldn’t be possible for me to tell Y/N to take two lefts and a right, and that the escape hatch is behind the giant rock shaped like a nose—trust me, you’ll see it.”

The trio of siblings was silent for several long seconds as they took in Crowley’s words.

“Why are you doing this?” Dean asked.

“I didn’t want to make this crummy deal in the first place,” Crowley sighed. “But you Winchesters are stubborn, so I made it. Now I’m doing the little I can to un-make it.”

The Winchester brothers began questioning Crowley about the specifics of the plan, but you remained silent. The men seemed to forget your presence until you suddenly interrupted them.

“So I still have to go to hell?”

All eyes turned to you.

“I’m afraid so,” Crowley said, still unable to look you in the eye.

“Dean?” Your pleading voice had your big brother in front of you in an instant. “Does…” your gaze focused on your fidgeting hands, and your voice came out in a tearful whisper. “Does dying hurt?”

Dean’s heart lodged in his throat. He wanted so bad to lie, to tell you that you wouldn’t feel a thing, and that you’d be reunited with your brothers before you knew it. But you didn’t want just assurance, you wanted the truth. You needed someone to trust more than you needed comfort. So he did the last thing he wanted to do; he told you the truth.

“Yeah,” Dean sighed heavily. “Yeah, it’s gonna hurt like crazy.” Dean’s hands found your fidgeting ones, and he held them tightly. “And those seventeen hours are gonna feel like a whole lot longer. And it’s—“ Dean’s voice cracked. “It’s gonna be real dark, and you’re gonna feel like the only person in the universe for a little while. Then the demons are gonna come, and it…it’s gonna be really bad for a while, kid.”

Tears were steaming down both of your cheeks now, but still Dean continued.

“But you just gotta hold on, ok? Hope is the only thing you’re gonna have down there, so you can’t let it go for anything, understand?”

“Ok,” you choked, holding Dean’s hands in a vice grip.

“Ok,” Dean forced a fleeting smile. “Good girl.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You’re gonna be ok, alright?”

You nodded, leaning into your big brother’s touch.

Dean felt you flinch in his arms, and he pulled back to see you glancing around wildly.

“Did you hear that?” You breathed. You glanced up at Sam and jerked back, gasping in surprise.

“Hey, hey,” Dean tried to grab your arms, but you backed away from him, trembling. “What you’re seeing, it’s not real, ok? Y/N, it’s me.”

“I have to go, they can’t see me here.” Crowley was gone before anyone could comment.

“Y/N, it’s Sam.” Sam appeared on your other side. “It’s ok, you’re ok.”

“Baby close your eyes.”

You looked up to see Dean staring down at you.

“Just close your eyes,” he repeated. “It’ll be ok.”

You closed your eyes tightly before the hallucinations started again, your last visual memory being that of your big brothers holding onto you. You felt Dean’s hand squeeze yours, and your breathing turned to hyperventilating when you heard the hellhounds burst through the door.

Your instincts were screaming at you to open your eyes, but Dean seemed to read your mind.

“Keep your eyes closed, sweetheart. We’re right here, we’re not gonna leave you.”

You couldn’t help the terrified gasps that were escaping you, but you listened to your big brother and kept your eyes closed, even as you heard the vicious bark of the hellhounds.

Even as you felt their claws rip into your flesh.

You shrieked in pain, and you struggled to back away from the hounds, to no avail. But you never opened your eyes.

And you never let go of your brothers’ hands.

…

Seventeen hours later, Sam and Dean were waiting at the address that Crowley had given to them. Your body was laid out carefully in the back of the Impala, having been carried there by Dean. Dean told himself over and over again that you weren’t dead; they were just waiting to get your soul back to your body.

“Is there something we should be doing?” Sam asked, glancing around.

“Not according to Crowley,” Dean sighed. “He said as long as her body is here, and she gets through that escape hatch, it should be a done deal.”

The brothers had done what they could for your body; Sam had stitched up your wounds, and Dean had done a homemade blood transfusion using his own blood. They could only hope that your soul returning to your body would somehow help the more internal injuries that they couldn’t fix. Dean insisted that they do this, since Cas wasn’t around to heal your injuries, they didn’t know what state you would be in when you got back to your body.

“So we just sit he—“

Sam’s question was cut off when your body suddenly jerked upright, a deep breath filling your lungs.

“Y/N!” Dean was by your side immediately, Sam coming to stand beside him.

“Dean? Sam?” You were out of the Impala and in your brothers arms before you even finished getting their names out.

“Hey kid,” Dean breathed a sigh of relief as you relaxed completely in his arms. “Miss me already?” He quipped, but his forced easygoing tone dropped at your response.

“It felt so long.” You held Dean tighter and started to cry into his shoulder.

“I know, I know it did sweetheart.” Dean brought his hand up to cradle your head. “I know. You’re safe now, ok? We’re right here.”

“Hey,” Sam pulled you away from Dean and held you at arms length to look at you. “How do you feel?”

You touched the stitches running up your stomach.

“It feels sore, like-like it’s healing.”

“Ok.” Sam sighed in relief. “Ok.” He pulled you into his arms, letting you relax against him.

“Let’s get going,” Dean said. “We don’t need any demons figuring out what happened.”

Dean regretted his words when he saw you tense in Sam’s arms.

“Hey.” Sam noticed too, and he pulled away and brushed your hair away from your face. “We’ve got you, ok? You’re not going back to hell. Ever.”

For the first time in months, a smile found its way onto your face.

“Let’s hope so.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl

#dean winchester #dean and sam #the winchesters #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #winchesters x sister #crowley #sam winchester x sister!reader #spn sam winchester #dean winchester x little sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x sister!reader

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signedkoko · 8 months

Note

OK since requests are open I thought I might as well do another ask with once again Lucifer and Lilith soooo

I ask for Lucifer x Lilith x a human reader, and uhm, maybe when Lucifer and Lilith are out for some reason. Reader gets attacked at the castle? Smthn like that but im mainly asking for maybe some type of one-shot or hcs idk with a human reader that gets hurt badly when lucifer and lilith aren't there and their reaction to such ig.

Otherwise, if you wish to not write this please tell me

And yes, Luci icon twins^^

- 𝐋.𝐁 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

Lucifer X Reader X Lilith [Romantic]

In which they aren't there to protect you from bountyhunters, and you end up greatly injured. Reader is genderneutral.

Not many attacks are made on their residence for a reason

You need to be crazy powerful to survive Lucifer, let alone Lilith and the many well-trained servants in the estate

Whoever tried either died gruesomely or was never seen again, huge powerhouses of hell wiped out in an instant

Or two, if Lilith felt like teasing them

Today was not like any other because it was baby Charlie's tenth birthday!

A decade of life was worth a large celebration, and Charlie wanted many of the servants she grew up around to be there

Of course, you were going too! Charlie had always accepted you like a parent, which you were beyond grateful for, and you'd even gotten her something special

Only halfway out the door did you realize you'd forgotten it upstairs, so you excused yourself and told Lilith to go ahead

" I don't want anyone to see! Besides, I'll bring the cool car, and Charlie can ride back in it with me! "

You also enjoyed the idea of letting the birthday girl be with her birth parents for a bit

Only, as you grabbed the present and made your way back downstairs, you heard something shatter

There were still a few guards around the palace, but still, this was nothing good if they knew to attack while the Morningstars were out

Before you could call Lucifer, a shot rang out, your phone falling to the floor as you stared at your bleeding palm

Fuck, fuck, fuck that hurt-

Clutching the present, your attempt to duck was futile as another shot rang, hitting your opposite shoulder and sending you to the floor

The pain was severe, and you knew why—this was no normal gun; it had to have been an angel weapon

" It's just a stupid servant; stop wastin' bullets. "

" But look! They're holding somethin' real nice; it looks like a crown! "

Upon hearing them talk about the gift you got for Charlie, you began crawling away

Bang!

Another shot in the knee; your vision was starting to blur with tears

Before you could get away any further, you felt a kick to your side, which sent you into the wall

" Just grab it and go. Stupid royals are probably on their way already. "

One more kick, straight to your head, and you were out

...

. . .

" ...ke up! Wake up! "

Your head felt fucking terrible, and when you cracked open your eyes even a bit, the light was blinding

As you adjusted, you could hear Lucifer cheering and clapping, and you could make out Lilith on the side of the bed, hushing him with one hand over yours

You could tell you were in their bed, judging by the familiar scent and room, but you had no recollection of what was happening

" Before you ask, the bountyhunters have been dealt with, dear. They hurt you. "

Lilith's voice was calming as always, and she held up your hand to caress it between both of hers, hoping to soothe you

" Bountyhunters...? "

" Thats right, I sure showed them! I wasn't sure which one did it, so Lily and I gave them all special treatment! "

Lucifer seemed proud as he held up his arms as if flexing, but his grin was a little wobbly, and you could tell he was putting up a front

Things started to puzzle together, and that was when you lifted yourself up, holding your head

" Fuck. Poor Charlie, it was her birthday! "

" I'm sure she understands. We didn't want her to worry, so we let her stay at the party while we handled things. She's most worried about you. "

Lilith reached back and propped up the pillows so you could stay seated, making sure you were most comfortable while Lucifer paced

Looking down at the hand she caressed, you noticed it was entirely wrapped in bandages

" They weren't normal guns. "

" Yes, I'm afraid it won't heal very well. But we will make certain you get the best care. "

Standing up, Lilith grabbed Lucifer by the arm and pulled him towards the door

They wanted to make sure you could rest, and a servant entered quickly with a tray of food and a warm beverage

" Oh yes! I can't wait to finish them off. "

" Wait, they're alive? "

" Not for much longer, dear. Lucifer thought we should save the rest for after you woke up. "

" Well, make it extra rough for me. "

You won't have to worry about those who hurt you ever, ever again

Author's Note - I feel so iconic having the lucifer icon pre-episode release, we are a power duo!

#koko writez #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel x reader #helluva boss x reader #reader insert #x reader #lucifer #lucifer x reader #lilith #lilith x reader

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queenimmadolla · 1 year

Text

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

(Tattoo Artist!Eddie Munson x Apprentice!Reader)

Summary: . . . After deciding you were meant for more than what life had in store for you, you gave into the siren call of the city─well a city. But when city life finally eats away at your bank account and your main source of income isn't reliable, you take on an apprenticeship at a tattoo shop where your boss is the six-foot something, tattoo covered Eddie Munson who quickly and unwisely becomes intrigued by you. Nothing romantic can come from it, lest you risk it being torn apart by your past, his lover and yourself.

Entire Work Warnings: 18+ (smut will take place in later chapters), swearing, financial problems, mentions of loss, escorts/call girls, age gap (Eddie is 36, reader is 25), financial shaming, slut shaming, implied sexual harassment, bimbo!reader (she may not be book smart but she knows the score) angst, self-sabotage.

a/n: based on my initial post and elements of Breakfast at Tiffany's. next chapters will be significantly juicer, this was just something to get us going. this is dedicated to @munsonology, happy birthday and I hope this year was a good one! and a very gratitude filled thank you to my dear friend, @kitmon, for continuing to be an an amazing beta! hope you guys like it so far ♡ (attempting the keep reading feature, fingers crossed)

word count: 5k

“They don’t bite.” “Hmn?” Came your absent-minded reply, eyes cutting from the harpy, evil in her eyes and blood soaking her talons, to the man flipping through the red binder you’d been carrying around you in the Indianapolis heat.

Sweat evaporated off your skin, giving away to goosebumps in the air conditioned shop, a much welcome relief to the borderline unbearable heatwave settling over the city streets, something that can be found in every nook and cranny. You’d been navigating your way throughout the city since before dawn broke, eager to get your fill of it while the streets were quiet and a decent temperature. It had been almost chilly this morning, your thick strapped tank top and daisy dukes—that you normally wouldn’t allow yourself to be caught dead in—leaving most of your skin exposed, with no direct sunlight to warm it. Now that the sun was out, you were on fire out there.

“The artwork.” He glanced at the framed harpy drawing along the wall, the one you’d been staring at, one of many framed depictions of gruesome and mythical looking creatures. “I don’t blame you though, that one isn’t particularly my favorite. Pretty badass, though. Heh.” “Oh,” You shook your head, the oversized shades adorning your face sliding down the bridge of your nose, “No, I’m not afraid of it. I like it. It must have taken forever though.”

You turned your attention to her again, admiring how realistic her feathers appeared. Painstakingly detailed and whoever was walking around the city with her on their body surely endured a generous amount of pain to get her.

And a large hole in their wallet.

“It took a ton of sessions, for sure. My boy did it a couple years ago.” The man, Argyle, as he’d introduced himself when you’d first walked into the shop, flipped his long black hair over his shoulder before he flipped to the next page of your portfolio. He let out a sound of appreciation as he leaned his weight on his elbow, hand resting over his mouth.

“This is good! This is really good!”

You lifted your chin to peer at the drawing he was fascinated with. Ah.

It was a drawing of the skeletal Grim Reaper, cloaked in a black robe and scythe clutched in one hand while his boney middle fingers stretched his eye socket holes down in an obvious taunt. A tongue, black and tendril like, lulled out of his mouth.

You thought it was pretty good, too. The idea for it had struck you at a party, you’d been hiding from an annoying suitor and ducked into an office room, doodling to your heart's content once you grew past your boredom.

You grinned, a feeling of giddiness beginning to bubble inside you.

“Listen, the DM’s out right now, running some errands. He should be back soon, can I hold onto this?” Argyle asked, gripping the sides of the binder and raising it as if you didn’t already know he was referring to your portfolio, “I think he’ll be pretty impressed with your stuff.” You fidgeted with your fingers, giddiness giving away to nerves once more. “Really? You think so?” Hope was something you hadn’t felt in a while; you’d been through exactly fourteen tattoo shops throughout the city, most of which you’d been rebuffed from before they so much as flipped open your portfolio, having already decided your particular aesthetic didn’t fit their image. They hadn’t verbalized as much, but you knew. You glanced down at your pink boots, already such a stark contrast to the black beams beneath your feet.

It wouldn’t be a big deal if you hadn’t made a wager with yourself, you could only go home once you’d accomplished your task of getting one of the shop owners to actually look at your work. While Argyle had made it clear he wasn’t the head honcho, he’d be passing it along.

“Yeah, man! This is some pretty legit stuff! I’ve been tatting, myself, for a couple years now, and I’m good–don’t wanna flex or nothing but I’m really good. Only it took a couple of years for me to actually get this good, you know? And I’m not even talking about on skin. You haven’t tattooed anyone before, right?” You thought back to when you had mentioned your art skill to a brief...something, he’d been intoxicated enough on expensive wine and your sangria kisses to encourage you to use the tattoo kit one of your friends had re-gifted you after her interest in the subject waned. You’d never particularly imagined yourself etching into people’s skin before, not even when she’d given you the supplies because she’d seen some of your doodles.

Thanks to her, a suit and tie you no longer spoke to, who made more money than you’ll ever see, was walking around with a secret under his briefs: a pair of shiny cherries on his left ass cheek.

It was no loss to you. Sure, he made money. Just not nearly enough for you to tolerate how aggressive he’d been with his affections as soon as he was sloshed. You’d given him the tattoo with his drunk pals cheering him on, went out to a very high standard club, then promptly ditched him the moment you were out of his sight. You hadn’t answered the door when he came pounding on it the next morning and the morning after that.

You’d originally had no intentions of using the tattoo equipment, until that encounter. It had planted a seed, an idea that may get you out of what you had to do to survive. Tattooing hadn’t been a passion, and it still wasn’t quite one but you needed money and you had talent.

“No,” You lied with a shake of your head, “I haven’t.”

“That’ll change soon,” he laughed, closing your binder as he leaned further over the glass counter. Your gaze briefly flickered to the jewelry it housed.

“You got a number we can reach you at?”

You’d scrawled the number of your landline down on the back of one of their business cards before Argyle could rethink his decision to pass your work along.

“Hopefully, we’ll see you soon!” He called out as you retreated towards the door.

God, I hope so.

The thought of a somewhat stable job that could help the pitiful state of your checking and savings account was the only thing powering you through your long walk home. You couldn’t risk a cab, that would mean you’d have no fare money for tonight, and who knows if you’d have to make a speedy exit?

You’d learned. Eventually.

Forty-five minutes later, you entered your apartment, sagging back against the door as you dropped your bag and kicked your shoes off, unconcerned as to where exactly they’d landed.

Sweat glistened over your skin, and unlike in that last tattoo shop, there was no air conditioning to cool you. You and Sid saved that for special occasions.

Instead, you opened the large window to the fire escape, obnoxious sounds of the city you called home filling the apartment.

It wasn’t much, but it was better. Next came the matter of your clothes, stuck in the most uncomfortable of ways to your flesh. Your tank top was peeled off and thrown over the couch, daisy dukes abandoned near the entryway of the small kitchen on your way to the bathroom.

A quick glance was spared behind you, taking in the state of your shared home. It was a mess and not even remotely surprising. The place was barely furnished with the essentials, all of which were secondhand: a couch, a coffee table with a sheet over it to hide the stains, one shelving unit, a rug and tapestries hung artfully on the walls for deception. They made the place look more put together than it was, but you’d love it even if it were still barren. A roof over your head in the city meant you didn’t have to return to the past you’d clawed your way out of..

The only thing worth much was the framed photo on the kitchen counter, and that was only in sentimental value. You and Sid, arms around each other’s shoulders as you sat in a booth at a shitty diner you’d tried upon first moving to the city. They’d taken your photo for being the 600th customer and tacked it to the wall.

You’d stolen it and had no regrets because you got to keep your memory and ended up getting food poisoning.

With a shrug, you entered the bathroom for a much needed scrub down and some disassociating. Your mess could wait.

─

Eddie was not in a great mood when he walked into the shop.

His jacket was clutched in a sweaty palm, rings twisting around the flesh of his fingers and his bangs were beginning to stick to his forehead, all the result of the walk from his fucking car to the shop door.

“Grumpy?” Argyle asked, amused with the clear annoyance on his face.

Eddie sneered, standing under the vent for a minute to cool down, “Triple digits. Triple fucking digits out there, man. You could shove a thermometer up the devil’s asshole and it’d be cooler than that.”

Once he’d solidified, he stalked past the front desk, threw his jacket onto the counter and picked up a stack of mail.

“Did I miss anything?” Eddie asked as he flipped through the envelopes, mostly junk.

“A couple of walk-ins. Nothing too major there, handled them myself. Simple stuff, one wanted a goldfish. Not like a detailed one, like how you’d try and draw a goldfish cracker. We did have a few who wanted a couple of advance pieces, got ‘em booked for consultations with Johnny boy and Rob.”

“Nice,” Eddie chuckled under his breath at the mental image of the goldfish tattoo, most likely an act of affection. Tattooing people who wanted to permanently carry reminders of their children was one of Eddie’s favorites to do, partially because of the sentiment but mostly because the drawings were amusing.

He’d just finished tossing out the junk mail when he reached for his jacket to hang it up properly and discovered it had been concealing something.

“What’s this?” Eddie asked as he lifted the slim red binder. Looked relatively new.

“Huh?” Argyle glanced up from the sketch he was working on, recognition flashing across his face, “Oh, yeah! We got a prospective new hire, someone dropped off their portfolio.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and heaved out a heavy sigh as his jacket was tossed aside yet again. He had nothing against other tattoo artists, but the last one he’d hired that hadn’t come from his friend group ended up nearly destroying the group.

Henry had been charming, good at his job and charismatic. Turns out, he’d also been a master manipulator and had a particularly abhorrent temper. Tensions had been high, heads were butting and fights had occurred—with a permanent reminder in the wall near the front entrance where a large hole had been punched through. Henry had to go.

Eddie wasn’t looking to repeat the situation.

“I think we’re good on artists around here–and put a reminder on the calendar for me to patch that damn crater up.”

“Well, it’s a good thing the artist isn’t a tattoo artist. Yet. I’d look at that portfolio first before making any decisions, if I were you. I think you’re gonna see the beginnings of something goooooood, and dude, you’ll be killing our fun if you fix it. Do you know how many glory hole jokes we tell?” Eddie ignored the latter half of Argyle’s statement, reluctantly flipping the portfolio open to the first page and annoyance began to associate itself with him once more.

A body, in a state of decomposition greeted him. But it wasn’t maggots or rotting flesh involved. Flowers grew out of the crevices, with moss and mushrooms over her skin. A lot of fine line work.

The next page was home to a bird-like creature with the body of a lion, a Griffin. Done in American Traditional.

A skinny, demonic looking goat with horns and legs long enough to belong to a horse, clouded eyes and wyvern wings was on the page after that. The Jersey Devil. Someone knew their Cryptids.

The portfolio contained a vast amount of drawings from horror depictions to more aesthetically pleasing visions; the hydra, skeletons, dragons, goddesses, respectable attempts at the modern Renaissance pieces, and even a couple of Barbie references, ranging in a variety of tattoo styles.

Eddie closed the portfolio and drummed his fingertips across the countertop, scowling.

That long haired doofus was right. This was beyond good work. But if they weren’t a tattoo artist, there wasn’t much Eddie could do with them. Drawing on paper is a much more different experience than skin. Mistakes can be erased on paper, the sketch done over again. Can’t do the same on flesh.

It’s intimidating.

They’d have to start off slow, like he had. Trained under a watchful eye, an expert who’d guide them with experienced hands. He was sure Jonathan and Robin would be eager to have an apprentice.

But before Eddie would even begin to entertain the idea of an apprentice in his shop, he’d have to see exactly what it was he was working with.

“Leave a number?” He asked without looking at Argyle because he knew he’d see nothing but a smug expression.

“Yup.”

“See if you can get him back in the shop tomorrow.”

“Why not today?”

“Because I have a session for the rest of the day, remember?”

“Oh, yeah! I forgot.” Argyle’s grin was sheepish as he read off the calendar. “Stacy Peterson called. Car troubles. Unable to make it to appointment with Eddie. Rescheduled. Heh. So…you also missed that.”

“I’ll strangle you later, just get him in here then.”

Argyle opened his mouth, then closed it as an expression that said I know something you don’t crossed his strong features. “Righty-O, boss. I’ll give him a call.”

You’d been lounging in the bathtub, hair up and out of the way, eyeing the grooves of the shower tile. They were a permanent taunt, stained dark no matter how hard you and Sid scrubbed and you hated the sight of them.

People with money didn't have to stare at them, able to afford to have them professionally cleaned or the shower wall—the entire bathroom renovated.

Someday, that would be you.

You sunk further into the water, toeing at the faucet when the shrill sound of the landline filled your more than humble home. The thought of simply letting it ring played in your head until you remembered the tattoo shop you’d visited last.

Hastily rising from the tub, water was splashed along the floor while you did a terrible job of drying off and ran naked the rest of the way to the living room, almost slipping as you did.

The receiver was yanked off its post, “Hello?”

“What’s up, Dudette? Argyle calling, dunno if you remember me from earlier…”

“Yeah! From the tattoo shop, right?”

“Right-O! Listen, The Dungeon Master is in and he wants to see if you can get down here to show him what you got. Possible?”

“Yeah, it’ll be no problem!” You’d have to run most of the way but street traffic around this time wasn’t that bad so you wouldn’t have to fight your way through bodies.

“Cool, cool, cool. And between you and me, this is pretty much the interview process. Good luck, dudette, and may the force be with your tattie skills. I’ll see you when you get here!”

As soon as you’d hung up, you ran to your room to get dressed. You didn’t have much of a wardrobe, but it wasn’t high on your list of priorities considering you and Sid practically shared one. Another tank top was selected—to mitigate sweating on your way to your interview—along with a gifted pink thong and matching bra. You’d snagged your Daisy Dukes from the floor on your way out, shimmied them on, grabbed your small bag and keys and headed out.

The selection of attire was a good one, the heat was still stupidly unbearable and heavy. You’d need to wash off again tonight. You’d managed to make it to the shop in under twenty-five minutes, having ignored all the looks you’d received as you hurried along the streets and the feeling of the air conditioner on your skin was a welcome one when you made your way back into the shop.

Argyle greeted you with a bright grin from his place behind the counter, throwing up his hands, “You made it! One sec.”

Then he turned his upper body to call into an area you couldn’t quite see into, “Oh, Eddie boy! Your prospect has arrived.”

You hadn’t cared to entertain ideas on what your potential boss could look like, all you were concerned about was the position and getting your foot in the door. Even if you had tried to imagine him, nothing could have prepared you for the actual sight of him when he emerged.

He was big, tall and cloaked in black, despite the heat of the city. He wore what you figured had once been a black t-shirt but was now lacking sleeves and a proper neck hem to be considered a makeshift tank. His pants were shiny leather and also tight, hugging the muscles of his thighs, and he sported a dark pair of pointed boots.

He wasn’t particularly muscular enough to be the body builder type, but it looked like he could probably pick another grown man up with ease. His skin had a light tan to it, barely anything really, just like everyone else, he obviously couldn’t escape the sun. It was littered with intricate tattoos, weaving up his arms—a few you could tell disappeared under his shirt—and his neck.

The word freak was permanently etched in black ink along his temple and over his eyebrow. Two silver balls decorated his other eyebrow.

Leaning up against the back wall like that, arms crossed to make the muscles of his arms bulge slightly and oozing confidence, he looked like the personification of some really good sex.

But he wasn’t what you were seeking out and you didn’t like to mix business with pleasure.

Eddie was caught completely off guard, trying to school his shock and keep his composure.

When he’d seen that portfolio, he was expecting someone with jagged edges, piercings galore and more than just a couple of tattoos to be behind it and standing in the entryway of his shop.

Someone who looked like their art.

You…didn’t. With your little pink cowboy boots, tank top that accentuated your figure and shorts so small, they should’ve been considered a form of underwear, you didn’t look at all similar to what Eddie was expecting. Not even if he closed his eyes.

You didn’t waste time, quickly introducing yourself as you stepped up to the front desk and Eddie pulled himself from his stupor, closing the distance to shake your palm. Smaller than his (though most were) and slightly sweaty, no doubt due to that god forsaken heat outside.

Eddie could see bits of your hair sticking to your skin, little beads of sweat prickling over your exposed collarbone and trailing down, down between your─

“Thank you for taking the time to even look at my portfolio! I really appreciate it.”

Eddie blinked hard, clearing his throat before smirking to pretend he hadn’t been drawn in by your chest.

What the fuck was wrong with him all of a sudden?

He’d had plenty of beautiful clients, he’d tattooed nice asses, tits, pubic regions, thighs, all the beautiful areas. Now all of a sudden he was acting like he’d never seen a pair of tits before.

Hell, Eddie had been thoroughly busy with a pair, held them in his hands before he came into the shop.

Professionalism, he reminded himself.

“Not a problem, what I see—saw was pretty impressive,” Nice save, Eddie, you dick. He cursed himself, “You adapt well to different styles.”

“Thanks!” You chirped, excitement filling you at the praise. It was so nice to hear positive feedback about your work instead of being sent out of a shop before they so much as opened your binder. “I like to experiment with different styles, see what it is that people like so much about them and honestly, it’s mostly because I haven’t quite found my art style just yet.”

Hence your range, you were constantly expanding with your art because you hadn’t found one style you wanted to make yours yet. Or maybe you had and just didn’t know it yet. Whatever.

Eddie and Argyle exchanged a look before he stepped back and nodded in the direction he came, “Why don’t you follow me? Show me what you can do?”

You didn’t hesitate, stepping past the front desk.

There was more artwork lining the short hall he took you down until you arrived at another room, obviously one meant for actual tattooing as there was a tattoo chair in the middle of the room.

On one of the counters, was an area already prepped for you. A tattoo gun, some ink, and some obviously fake skin that rested on top of a disposable sheet cloth, along with some gloves.

“Argyle tells me you haven’t worked on skin before.”

Sure you haven’t.

“Not a whole lot of people lining up to get tattooed by someone with no experience,” you shrugged, following him over to the counter he was leaning up against.

“You’re hanging around the wrong crowd then.” He joked and you let out a small laugh.

He had no idea how right he was.

“The first tattoos I ever got were from inexperienced people. This one,” he gestured to a Wyvern on the back of his arm, “I got my junior year of high school from a waitress at a bar I always snuck into.”

“And this one,” he yanked the tattered collar of his shirt down to expose more ink, but the one he was referring to was a spider, “I got my first senior year from someone I did…business with.”

First senior year? Eddie was proving to be an interesting character.

“But enough about me,” Eddie released his shirt, allowing it to hide the artwork depicted on his chest, “let’s get down to business.”

Before he could even explain what everything was, you dropped your purse onto the counter nearby, pulling a small box of unopened gloves from it.

“You mind?” You asked, fingers poised to rip it open.

“Go for it,” He shrugged. Gloves were gloves, so long as they were uncontaminated he didn’t mind.

You tore into them and Eddie was still somehow surprised to see they were pink. Clearly his black ones weren’t your style.

“Can I ask you a question?” You asked as you pulled the gloves on. Eddie watched you, intrigued as you finished assembling the tattoo gun without his help and opened the ink pack.

“Sure,” He mused, eyeing you skeptically. Hadn’t tattooed anyone but you were clearly familiar with it. Interesting.

“Did your tattoos hurt?”

Eddie waited until after you’d started the tattoo gun and got into working on the fake flesh. Apparently you already had an idea in mind.

“A bit of an amateur question, you don’t have one?”

“Nope.” You confirmed, paying him no mind as you leaned forward, gaze focused solely on your task, “I kind of want one but I’m not in any particular rush, you know?”

Eddie made a sound of agreement, at a brief loss of words as you arched your back, ass sticking out and he became painfully aware you were wearing a hot pink thong, the tails of it peaking out past the top of your denim shorts. He should’ve offered you a seat but you didn’t seem all that bothered with standing.

No, that was apparently his foil, because he was incredibly bothered by you standing, especially with your ass out like that; when it made his pants tighten considerably in his crotch region.

He was getting hard.

Eddie was mortified, stiffening (go figure) as he attempted to calm himself, eyes darting away from your ass to stare at one of the cabinets. Of course this had to happen to him on the day he chose to wear a pair of pants that left little to the imagination should the boy downstairs start acting up.

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.

“Hurts, depending on the area, which I’m sure you already know. The tattoos on my back and my thighs hurt pretty bad. Forearms were a bitch, but nothing I couldn’t handle. The ones on my wrists and hands were the worst, pain wise, in my opinion. Obviously it didn't stop me, but those tend to be areas with a lot of bones, veins and very little muscle, so it’s expected.”

You hummed in response and his gaze briefly flittered over to you before his cock pulsed and he tore it away again, grateful your attention wasn’t on him.

The remainder of the ‘session’ was spent in relative silence with the music playing through the speakers installed throughout the shop, keeping it from being awkward. Eddie had just managed to will his erection away when you finished, setting down the gun before you pulled your gloves off.

“What do you think?” You asked, still admiring your work and Eddie peered around you to assess it.

A wyvern, similar to the one on his arm but done in a fine line style.

He chuckled, amused with your reference and you fought valiantly with yourself not to grin. You were trying to impress him, sticking with a subject he liked enough to make it a part of him permanently, but you hadn’t imitated the style of it to keep from downright copying and to showcase your ability to adapt.

“That’s pretty good,” And it was, not a whole lot of people could get lines that perfect or seem as confident in their abilities on their first try. Still, Eddie could tell you’d have some ways to go before you were ready to be on your own, “but you can do better.”

You tried not to frown, “Oh.”

Eddie smirked and you finally turned to face him, apprehension on your face.

“Don’t look so down. After some time around here, watching us work, you’ll be ready. The apprenticeship will fly by in no time.”

“Wait—you mean—you want me?!”

“I’d be stupid not to.”

You let out a squeal and threw yourself at him, giving him a quick squeeze before your brain caught up to your body and you pulled away.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m just so excited.”

Eddie cleared his throat, shifting his body away from you and rasped out, “Argyle will have the paperwork for you to fill out.”

“Got it,” You grabbed your bag and was just about to head out of the room when Eddie called your name, “Huh?”

“Be back at the same time tomorrow. You’ll be practicing on real skin.”

“But I thought you said—”

“Me.”

Something in you bubbled with excitement and nerves.

You nodded once and then left the room to see Argyle for your paperwork.

“So?????” Argyle asked once you’d approached him, a sullen look on your face.

You couldn’t keep the act up, beaming as you practically bounced, “I’ll be seeing you around more often now!”

He whooped, extending an arm out for a high-five which you reciprocated.

“You are gonna love it here, Dudette. Just wait until you meet everyone! First, we gotta start on your employment.”

Your brows furrowed as you watched him go through a filing cabinet.

“Wait—this is paid?”

“Yeah! We’re not big on slave labor here.”

Score for you! You had a feeling you wouldn’t be clocking a ton of hours but every single penny counted, especially considering how hard of a time you had actually building a savings account.

Argyle had walked you through the paperwork, where to sign, what things meant and since the shop was getting ready to close up you’d simply just bring the completed paperwork back with you tomorrow.

The door chimed behind you and you turned to see who could be coming in at the last minute, eyes widening at the voluptuous woman before you. Her hair was long and jet black, skin pale (apparently one person in this city was capable of defying the sun) and make-up done so elegantly it reminded you of actresses from the silver screen era. Her dress was simple, black and hugged her curves exceptionally well. You could tell it was worth more than everything in your apartment combined and you’d feel bad about it if you also couldn’t tell she was older than you.

You’d have time to get there.

“Hey, Deidre.”

“Hello, Argyle.” She gave the both of you a dazzling smile as she removed her sunglasses and walked right past Argyle, down the hall you’d come from.

He didn’t even look surprised and paid her no real attention.

“We’ll see you soon?”

“Damn straight.”

Argyle let out another cheer as you walked out the door with high spirits. Not even the nasty, hot air could get you down.

You’d climbed up the stone steps until you reached the sidewalk and glanced behind you at the neon sign depicting the name of the tattoo shop you’d now be working at.

“Welcome to The Dungeon,” You mumbled to yourself with a smile.

You turned back to the sidewalk, staring down at the pathway you’d have to take before you thought better of it, sticking your fingers into your mouth to give a sharp whistle.

It caught the attention of a cab driver down the street, and you gave him your address when he’d pulled up and you’d hopped in, ready to prepare for tonight's plans. You deserved a little break, after all, you were one step closer to securing the future of your dreams.

Eddie sagged against the counter once you’d left the room, scowling down at the bulge that had reappeared in his pants when you’d hugged him.

Why his body was suddenly acting like he was a horny teenager again, he had no idea.

He wasn’t about to do anything about it, though. Not when you’d be hanging around the shop for the foreseeable future. Eddie didn’t get involved with his employees. He’d worked in a couple of shops where he’d witnessed that occur and it always ended in a mess. Not a good kind.

He busied himself with cleaning up, tossing away the supplies you’d used and storing your first piece of work. It’d be nice for you to look back at once your apprenticeship was over. When Eddie had nothing else to clean, he sighed and rubbed at his eyelids.

Platonic. Professional. God, if he couldn’t keep his dick in check, he’d be in a world of trouble. You’d be trouble.

“Need a hand?”

Eddie snapped around, relieved to see it was just Deidre. Explaining why he had a boner to anyone else wasn’t something he was keen on doing. In fact, he probably wouldn’t be telling her exactly why, either.

Taking her up on her offer, however, was something he would eagerly do.

“Are you offering yours?”

She laughed, setting her purse down on the counter where your bag had been just a few minutes ago, and walked right up to Eddie, her body pressed against his and grinding onto him as the older woman slid her arms around his shoulders.

“Mmm, not just my hand.”

All Eddie knew next was the taste of her red lipstick.

#tattoo artist!eddie munson x apprentice!reader #tattoo artist!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #older!eddie munson #he's older than me so im counting it #eddie munson x reader angst #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #bimbo!reader #eddie munson x bimbo!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Between the Lines

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slickfordain · 2 years

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𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬.

Warning: Yandere behavior, but we all know I always write Yandere on Tumblr. No specified gender for you. Also, reader with my personality again— since some people liked it very much.

Edit: I forgot to say the kids in Genshin are all platonic 💀

Teyvat is aware of their divine using them as a vessel. Teyvat is aware Celestia cannot defeat you either… As Celestia was obviously made by you. However, you have some concerning habits… Some are very very cute in your harem’s eyes ~ While some makes them worry for your health.

You have a problem with making your Genshin self-insert insert having such a gruesome backstory, it makes them wanna cry and hug your self-insert in their world. Apparently, your insert is indeed inserted in the game— ahah, when you shut off the screen and log off of course ♡

Perhaps, let’s say Zhongli would pick up on how you eat a lot of food… It amazes him. You even have a lot of mora, that you only spend it on food and nothing else. It… Does make him worry— But Yanfei would definitely sign the chefs to make your favorite dishes, just in case ~

Xingqiu would pick up on how you write an unfamiliar word called “Fan-fictions”. It has some Japanese words such as “Yandere” and “Tsundere”. He listened further into your works, and goodness, he has never felt so called out in his entire life when you specifically explained what Yanderes are. If you liked writing about Yanderes… You wouldn’t mind him being one for you, would you?

Childe would laugh his ass off whenever he hears you talking constantly to yourself, pretending as if you’re responding to them. But this makes him think you’re trying to communicate with him and Teyvat, makes his heart sore so much. You’re so sweet and acknowledging everyone, specifically him. ♡

Characters such as Pantalone and Baizhu have a realization you love spending Primogems on wishes, and always wasting them. So what do they do? Mischievously somehow gain Primogems for you, which you didn’t complain about at all.

People also have heard about your hatred towards Albert for being a creepy stalker. Now, this made Mondstadt furious at Albert. Not only does he stalk poor Barbara, he even dared to boldly disappoint you. (Barbatos killed him ehe)

Barbara has never felt so loved this much, she wants to bawl her eyes out — to show how much she loves and adores you.

Characters like Razor and Raiden Ei have come to realization you love sleeping around so much, they’ve gotten to know you sleep in work from time to time whenever it’s break. They take this advantage to make a setup room for you, where either of them can hold you in their arms and cuddle as they sleep against you.

Beidou, Lisa and Yae Miko would often see that you especially get easily injured. I’m not saying they’re the only ones terrified— trust me, many people in Teyvat are going to kill whoever hurt you,,, but they are the ones who ends up hearing about your condition. They’re so worried when they find out you don’t scream in pain, nor do you care about it because you’ve always been clumsy since childhood. They’re so worried, they might have a heart attack someday.

The Adeptus’ pick on the fact you like listening to “8-bit” version of music… It sounds hard to play, but they can’t deny you did have taste in music. Makes the guy from Lantern lite quest more inretested with you, and wishes to know you more! Or more so… Perhaps Enjou would take interest in this.~ He’s just as silly as you, why not?

Dainsleif notices how you stare at his character with adoration and love his design oh so much, that he also knows you love drawing, just like Albedo. Hearing this, Albedo loves you to death, like… Literally.

Aether hearing you’re also unstoppable that even Unknown God can’t stop you? Goodness this boy is falling in a deep rabbit hole for falling for you~!

Paimon sees you as a mother/father figure too honestly… Paimon relates to you so much about food, and always gets so happy when you agreed by getting food. Despite your tired expression, she just wants to cry because you did not once call her an “Emergency food”.

How about your complex theories? Tighnari and Al-haitham will have a whole set of a store with written details about your theories. You did die when Teyvat was made, so makes sense why you didn’t know everything. (…. You ate popcorn and watched your show as Archon war was a thing.) Every theories, is about very interesting things.

Snezhnaya and Tsaritsa would be so happy when they find out your world was filled with snow (to those who live in a snowy weather like me), and would flex it off to other nations like cocky little bastards. They see this as a blessing, and would try getting to know your culture by just the fact you and them have snow. That would mean you wouldn’t be cold in their place, right?

How about Fontaine being in horror when they find about your Creepypasta and FnaF books? They’ll keep themselves aware of the woods and will isolate any innocent beings from anywhere that involves woods and trees. Jeff the killer and Jeffrey C. Hodek (canon Jeff) definitely traumatized numerous of the people in Fontaine, considering their skins got burned a lot.

Yelan being also surprised she and other rich people in Teyvat, are in fact not the richest people in their own world after learning that… Moras aren’t actually real money? I can see Mona laughing at their misery, even though she’s sad she doesn’t exist literally in your world. How the fuck is she supposed to kiss hug you huh?

Venti and Nahida being so drawn to your morning voice, hearing you cursing as they didn’t know what the meanings behind those languages meant. Nahida would stare at your face in awe, listening to your stories as Venti would too, making a song about it probably— only for it to go downfall when they realize you occasionally hurt yourself in work. They’re horrified. YOU FELL OFF THE STAIRS??! They’re gonna faint.

Cyno who is in love with a heated face when he learns you love jokes, hearing you making a dark humor that just has him down bad for you— and ends up laughing. Your dark humor never goes too far, and he just loves it that you can accept his jokes. He is definitely going to be very loyal towards you…

Imagine Scaramouche/Wanderer lovingly gazing at your side view as you try to do makeup real quickly before playing your game. It didn’t matter. He loved your little habit of always doing your makeup first— and then play. He’s patient, and will always try his best… Ends up killing Hilichurls under one second, oops~

With everyone in Teyvat learning about your habits, learning about your talents…

They officially are definitely in love with you. They will always love you. They know when it’s you, even if someone tries to look like you and act like you to get attention. It will never work. They don’t care what form you take, because they’re obsessed and in love with the idea of you. They will only love you, you you you. You’re genderless? They’ll love you, you’re a bully? They’ll love you. It doesn’t matter what form you take.

They will always love you, [Name].

I wanna do a small love hc with Dainsleif and Pantalone x reader because I’m in love with them ♡ but I also wanna do persona insert x canon… Man.

#various x reader #various #yandere x reader #sagau x reader #yandere sagau genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #sagau cult au #sagau brainrot #yandere sagau #sagau fluff #sagau headcanons

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celenawrites · 8 months

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₊˚ෆ soulmate au, wherein you get to see the world through your soulmate's eyes and experience what they're feeling at that moment

awful editing(no beta), a lot of pov shifts, loads of grammar mistakes, description of violence, smut below the cut.

just an idea i have been marinating in my drafts this month.

MDNI.

the first time Simon Riley realizes he has a soulmate, he's 24 and well on his way to becoming a lieutenant. it's an early winter morning, filled with white fog and chilly breeze that seeps through the balaclava he wears while off duty. he's in the cold, congested room that has been assigned as his office and he's trying to catch up on the stack of paperwork that had accumulated while he was risking his lives on the front-line just to feel something.

the scene shifts with a few gradual blinks and he realizes he's not in his office anymore.

he's she's standing in the kitchen, brewing up a cup of tea while humming an old melody. he's awfully out of place here, and he almost thinks his mind is tricking him with a sudden daydream and then she pours out the tea into a green mug, and exits the kitchen - finally sitting down in what he assumes to be a living room.

she turns on the tv to watch some melodrama he doesn't know, as she carefully blows onto the mug to cool down the steaming liquid before carefully taking a sip. he feels the green tea trickle down his throat, warming him from inside. he can feel the cushion behind her back and the glasses that rest on the bridge of her nose. he can feel the tag on her shirt scratch the nape of his nick uncomfortably so.

the scene is serene and unfamiliar and he feels out of place - it is homely and clean and pure, not tainted with blood, violence and avarice. it is uncomfortable for him to watch her be good and domestic and kind, almost feels like he doesn’t deserve it after the life he’s led. and yet, with time, seeing the world through her eyes is warmly welcomed after a dud of a day doing what he's best known for - being a ghost.

and he almost feels sorry for her, whoever she is. he’s sorry for the man he is, for the soldier he is. he’s sorry that she gets a one-way front ticket to seeing him kill people without remorse.

most of all, he’s sorry she had to end up with him.

for you, seeing the world through your soulmate's eyes has been nothing short of a grim nightmare. every time you'd shift, you'd almost pray to God and cross your fingers to avoid seeing any of the gruesome scenes that he encountered almost on the daily. you cannot see his face, but you can feel how heavy the protective gear is against his body, how taut his shoulders are and you can feel the synthetic fabric of the gun strap dig into his shoulders and chest. you feel his hands touch the steel barrel of the weapon and your blood runs cold. it’s not long before he’s aiming the said gun at a man before shooting him dead without hesitating. the first time you witnessed him doing something this abhorrent, you ended up having a panic attack - still able to feel the weight of the gun in your hands, convinced that you’re the culprit who shot someone in cold blood.

it’s not long before the scenes you witness through your soulmate’s eyes follow you even in your sleep. you��re taking melatonin, chamomile tea, antidepressants - anything to help you cope with the fact that having a soulmate like him means being haunted by gruesome visions for the rest of your life. it’s not long before your co-workers comment on your baggy eyes and frail health - even uniting together to urge you that taking a break would probably do you some good, but you turn them all down with a gentle shake of your head.

and then, you meet Soap through him. scottish, demolition expert, part of the military. wild mohawk, likes to draw, always the victim of your soulmate’s dry jokes. Gaz - british, a sergeant, youngest of the lot, always willing to help, but has enough snark to keep up with Soap about the most ridiculous of things. and Price - captain of his team, with impressive mutton chops and loud sneezes.

you see them relax around each other, see them drink tea, see Soap and Gaz banter and compete with each other at the training grounds - and this change of pace is far more welcomed than seeing people die on the battlefield.

and then there’s him, a pariah. everyone he comes across calls him ‘Ghost’, which just sounds ridiculous. no one knows anything about him, but there are moments when you are where he is and you see Price’s eyes twinkle with something - but your lack of physical presence always hinders your curiosity about the subject. no one has really seen his face, and you fear that you’d never get to know the man who’s destined to compliment you in all aspects of life.

there are moments though, when sharing vision and emotions with you, gets awfully overwhelming for him. it takes a lot to get a man of his stature to waver in his step, but you do that job perfectly. he sees you one day, in your bed with soft satin sheets failing to cover your body. he sees your hands trail down your body and his breath hitched when he feels you play with your cotton panties - before sliding them to the side and rubbing soft circles on your clit. he swears under his breath, trying to hold onto his sanity as it slowly slips away from him when you use your other hand to tease your nipples with skittish touches. it’s not long before Simon has locked himself up in the bathroom stall, using his hands to relieve the tension he has all because of you - matching his rhythm so that he comes at the same time as you.

he wonders if your hands would feel softer. if you’d kiss him before begging him with those doe eyes to make you feel good. if you’d tell him that you love him. if you’d love him enough so that he can be anew - without his past dragging him through the mud.

if you’d lose yourself to him and let him piece you back together with the adoration he carries for you. you’re practically a stranger, and yet you’re the only person who can get to him.

divider by @/cafekitsune

#call of duty #cod:mw2 #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty smut #soulmate au #char.simon ghost riley #celena.writes

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ad-astrah · 24 days

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Finally Watched Cinderella's Castle Digital Ticket (Twice) and I Gotta Get My Feelings Out Somewhere, Somehow (Part I)

Feel free to light up my DMs to chat about it!

And now, for my personal highlights/live reactions:

immediately I'm drawn in by Nick Lang's silly narrator voice and the way he warns us of what's coming. Especially the "muRrrDder!"

Jeff Blim cut his hair. JEFF BLIM CUT HIS HAIR. Not that I didn't like the long locks, but something about his Aladdin Era short hair gets me, man.

Jeff Blim literally getting to own the stage like the man was born to

Jeff Blim's slutty bard getup with the artfully messy hair and the heavy guyliner. That sinful bastard.

"Let's go." I'll follow you anyway, slutty bard.

Okay 80s rock jam! Hell yes.

idk why but I just love the line "There are tales in those walls, are they true or are they tall?"

THIS SET, THO. 80s vibes. Muppets vibes. Princess Bride vibes. Spooky, ethereal fairytale vibes. I love it! Props to the team who designed and built it.

prance, slutty bard boy, prance around that stage.

Jesus Fuck, I've only seen Joey's puppet but I'm already SOLD. Nick and Matt Lang and whoever else had a hand in making these puppets fucking OUTDID themselves! Did they use the Black Book and resurrect Jim Henson?

Throughout the show, the muppet vibes just absolutely amaze and delight me. Makes me feel like a little kid, spellbound by this fairytale. Except it's much darker, more gruesome, way more explicit, and extremely horny.

Oh look, it's Joey's Jingle/Jangle (whichever elf he was) voice from Black Friday.

Love me some o' dat non-binary representation from Ragweed. Starkid once again screaming GAY RIGHTS bitches.

I'm getting some of Jeff's Aragog from AVPS in this Narrator. Anyone else?

Stupid STUPID butcher!

Jon Matteson's accent. *giggles madly*

Angela IMMEDIATELY having to pause for applause before she finishes her first freaking line. The queen deserves it all, though.

The foreshadowing of the Stepmother cutting off Ella's feet. O_O

"It's furryyyyy and fouuuuul and full o' maGOTTTSSaaaaaggghhhh!"

Angela doing the little spinny finger thing in a guy's face to fluster them just like Max did to her character in Nerdy Prudes. I love these physical running gags. My fave being the Smoke Club, though.

OIIIINK oinkoinkoinkoinkoinkoink

Sir Preston asking for help from the audience. His "ELLAaaaaa....nooooo....."

The lighting in this entire show is SO COOL.

Again, Jeff just louging like a whore about the set like its his bitch. I live for it.

James' COSTUME. He looks SO FUCKING GOOD. Props to the costume folks...and to James' rockin' genes.

"But nothing compares to the juice and the hairs..." Oh no. Ohhhhh no I see where this is going. Don't say it, James, don't-- omg he said it.

er ee er ee er ee *window rolling down*

I thought the Prince drawing bewbies on the frosty window was funny already, and then he goes WAH WAH WAH and pretends to pinch them and I fucking lost it.

The Prince checkin' out DAT AZZZZZZ XD

"I'd wager she's wetter now than when I first found her bobbing in the river." OH MY GOD. PRINCE. THAT'S HER NOT-MOM.

If his highness has had every STD and beaten it, that's so fucked up but also damn, that boy's immune system is killin' it. Literally.

"Poor mad EllaAH"

"This is one thirsty FUCKING house." For real, omg.

"The offer stands firm. Come calling if you are!" *screams*

Jeff miming being crew and pulling the ropes for the curtains.

*audience member sneezes* "Bless you."

Angela's diction is next fucking level. PUNY. PINK. KIND.

The epic troll reveal! The puppets are SO GOOD.

THE FROG FUCKING TURNING AWAY AS SHE ASKED FOR IT TO DO SO SHE COULD KILL IT. CHRIST.

This bayou boogie song of Ella's is an absolute KILLER BOP. Holy shit. And it's SO perfect for Bryce's funky, sassy voice.

Speaking of which, BRYCE'S VOCALS. I'm gonna scream about them for forever and ever and ever. I love her voice SO FUCKING MUCH. I could listen to nothing else for the rest of my days and die a happy little gay.

"ohhhh woah woah waohhh" *flips the bird* She's such a queen for that.

"It needs oregano" WORK BITCH

Bryce's stage presence is fucking INSANE. I dunno how she's not on Broadway, but thank goodness we got her!

SIRE MANY TADPOLES!

GOD I love this absolutely depraved, horny little bastard of a prince.

It's amazing Tadeus hasn't murdered the prince yet. The man deserves a medal for the literal shit he's put up with.

Bugette?! I thought you choked on shit died and were consumed by the Hive Queen?

Rancilda being a typical troll and loving lurking under bridges and telling riddles.

Schuyler Sister vibes from the song with Justine and Lucy. So cute.

Justine and Lucy are SUCH real ones for IMMEDIATELY believing Ella about her family being trolls and for saying "fuck the ball, we're leaving NOW."

Shake dat ass, Mariah!

Lauren's physical comedy as Rancilda is NEXT LEVEL. I'm wheezing over here!

iSNn'tT it A BiiIItTcH?!

I LOOK GOOD IN THIS. What an absolute fucking BANGER. This song is gonna play in my head on repeat for the next decade. What a next level villain song.

Also this gives me some strongass Joan Jett vibes. "I love wearin' the skin of dead girls rock 'n' roll!"

and I hEEeaARr yoU'Re RiiiCCHhH

Seriously, is this the next Top Chart breakup revenge song? It should be.

"I really LIKE that song!" XD Putrice. I love how much of an absolute BIMBO she is.

Rancilda singing the song again. "SHUT UP STUPID BITCH, THE SONG'S OVER." "Okaaaaiiii"

Matt Dahan's ability to riff off the main songs and create motifs is otherworldly.

General MacNamara? Is that you?! Oh wait, nope. Still my slutty, slutty bard.

I LOOOOOOOVE this badass electric guitar intro, holy shit.

Kim Whalen, the queen, getting the bitchin' entrance she deserves.

Starkid is so, so good at their sound design to help immerse you in a scene without blowing a big budget or doing anything elaborate.

...Kim. My girl. Your arms must be tired.

She's just standing there, but Kim's stage presence is still so strong.

I can't get over how Jon's Sir Hops-A-Lot's voice is just a small...ahem. Hop, skip, and a jump away from Wiggly's.

JOEY. THAT ACCENT. You ABSOLUTE genius idiot. I love you for this stupidass voice.

Joey's bowl cut makes me giggle like mad.

I love these two puppets SO much.

GIT IT, KIM.

The call and response bit with Ella and the Goddess reminds me of Hamilton when Washington is dictating his Farewell Address. I know it's gotta be in other musicals, too, but that's the clearest comparison for this nerd at the moment.

Jeff sneaking in the "castle on a hill" song reference in this song.

Kim and Bryce dueting together is just Power incarnate. Holy cow. It's so good.

"You shall be as radiant and terrible as I." Ooooooh. Yes. Gimme.

The Narrator sneaking out from amidst the ensemble to finish off the song was really neat.

That fading spotlight before curtain for intermission with just Ella's face in view is so beautiful and haunting. What an epic close to Act I.

Also, it seems like this was also a strategic way to imply Ella's outfit being transformed there on stage during the song without actually having to do the tricky costume designing quick-change theater miracles of an ACTUAL outfit transformation. Which is really brilliant. Leave the audience to wonder until post-intermission about what Ella's starlight dress will look like.

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regiawrites · 2 days

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And There Will Be No Tenderness - S.R

Warning(s): Sub!Spencer, Fem!Dom!Reader, Brief Overstimulation, Riding, General Idiocy Word Count: 6134 Summary: Y/N and Reid never see eye-to-eye, but one kiss changes everything.

Garcia hustled into the conference room as quickly as she could with the height of her hot pink pumps, fiddling with the remote as she moved. "Good morning, my lovelies," She greeted the team. "Sorry for the hurry, but this one's a bad one."

"When are they good ones?" Rossi asked dryly as he flipped open the manilla folder in his hands.

"An excellent point," she granted, "but this one is particularly bad."

She clicked the remote and a series of gruesome images appeared on the screen, so gruesome, in fact, that even Hotch's face twitched. Four women, clearly dead, were covered in blood, bruises, and an array of other injuries, although no two seemed similar.

"These unfortunate four are Kerry Whittingham, Jasmyn Willis, Carly Smythe and Louise Fresca," Garcia said, gesturing to each of the women as she did so. "All of these women have been missing for between 6 and 11 months, all reported missing by their families within a week of them vanishing."

"How have they been linked together?" Morgan asked. "They all have different causes of death."

"Yeah," Y/N agreed. "Kerry Whittingham was evisceration, but it says here that Carly Smythe's cause of death was drowning. What's the connection?"

"That is where things get really bad," Garcia said with a grimace before clicking the remote again.

Four images of matching symbols appeared, each woman having the same mark burned into their wrists.

"Are those brands?" Y/N asked, horrified, making brief eye contact with JJ who mirrored her expression.

"Human trafficking, maybe?" Emily suggested and Garcia nodded.

"The local police department thinks so, yeah."

"So, they're being sold-" Y/N started, but was cut off by Reid scoffing 'Obviously'. She shot him a glare but spared him no response as she continued. "-and showing up dead. Are there any signs of sexual abuse?"

"Only on Jasmyn Willis," Garcia answered.

"So, they're not being sold to be sex slaves," Y/N guessed. "They're being sold to be killed."

"Or they're just being sold to whoever's interested," Reid contradicted, as he always did. "I doubt a human trafficker cares."

"But they WOULD," Y/N argued with a roll of her eyes. "If they were being traded for sex, the trafficker would be more concerned with keeping them alive."

"Y/L/N's right," Hotch said, and Y/N shot Reid a smug smile that he ignored. "A trafficker would want to keep the women alive so they could continue to bring in money. They're likely being kidnapped and traded with the sole purpose of being tortured and killed."

"What like some kind of sick eBay for serial killers?" Rossi asked, face twisted in disgust.

"That's one way of looking at it," Hotch sighed as he stood. "Wheels up in 20."

As the team filed out of the room, Y/N glared at Reid as they walked towards the bullpen. "Stop contradicting me at every chance you get, asshole!" she snapped at him, and he raised an eyebrow.

"You know," he started, "research suggests that those who frequently use curse words are less intelligent than those that don't."

"Oh, shut up, Reid."

"Most likely due to a lack of adequate vocabulary," he continued.

"Shut up, Reid."

"I'm just saying, maybe you'd be less insecure about me 'contradicting' you if you-"

"If you're about to imply I'm an idiot, I will hit you," she told him, glaring up at him as they reached their desks. She leaned down to grab her go-bag from beneath her desk.

"You're also very quick to resort to threats of physical violence, which further suggests you have a lack of trust in your own intellect," he said, grabbing his own go-bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Don't profile me, Reid," she said, voice flat and unamused, before she turned and headed out.

Trailing after her, Reid said, "I'm not profiling you; I'm making an observation about a coworker."

"And your observation is that I'm stupid?"

"I don't think you're stupid," he said with a shrug, and Y/N narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.

"You don't?"

"You're a qualified profiler, you can't be stupid," he said. "I do, however, think you're reckless, untrusting of yourself and quick to jump to conclusions."

"I'm not untrusting of myself," she argued, though she couldn't say she wasn't reckless. She was notorious for thinking with her heart and acting on impulse.

"If you weren't, my contradictions wouldn't bother you."

"That is so not how that works!" she snapped. "How would you feel if every time you said anything, someone was like 'uhm, actually'?" As she said 'uhm, actually', her voice slipped into a high-pitched, nasally lilt, and she mimed pushing glasses up the bridge of her nose.

They reached the elevator, and continued to bicker as they stepped inside.

And for the whole elevator ride down.

And for the whole walk to the jet.

Mercifully, the pair sat at opposite ends of the jet, and didn't talk to each other for the flight, so the team had some peace.

***

Within a few hours, the team was set up in the conference room of a police station in Pasadena, Captain Ray Jenkins sitting among them. He was a tall, portly man with a thick moustache and a heavy brow.

"So, the suspect you have in custody had DNA matching two of the victims in the back of his van?" Y/N asked Jenkins.

"Yes, and he also had Carly Smythe's engagement ring in his glove box," he told them, showing them a picture of a diamond ring. "He's remaining silent, though."

"I'd like to talk to him," she said, and Jenkins nodded. From somewhere beside her, Reid snorted, and she turned to glare at him. "What?"

"I'm shocked you want to talk to him, is all," he commented with a tight-lipped smile.

"Why would I not want to talk to a suspect?" she demanded, and he shrugged.

"Talking involves patience. And tact."

"Oh, 'tact' says the most awkward person I've ever met," Y/N snapped. "I've had to watch you talk to women before, you don't have much tact then."

Reid turned to face her straight on and level her with a glare, but Hotch held a hand up. "Don't start," was his only warning, effectively shutting them both up. "Y/L/N, you talk to the suspect."

***

Kyle Hannigan was skinny.

That was the first thing Y/N had noticed about him as he sat across from her in the interrogation room.

Skinny and short.

There was no way this man kidnapped those women, at least not on his own.

"You didn't kill those women, Kyle," Y/N said, leaning on the desk between them, flipping through the pictures.

"That's what I've been saying all this time," he huffed back, testy. As irritated as he sounded, he looked unnerved as his eyes flicked to-and-from the photographs of the mutilated women.

"You don't even know who killed them, do you, Kyle?" she pushed.

"No!"

"I don't even think you touched them," she said, fighting back a smile when he raised a questioning brow at her. "I mean look at you-" she gestured to him, "-you're short, you're skinny. Jasmyn Willis was 5'9 and a weightlifter, she could have fought you off blindfolded." Kyle's jaw ticked at the insult, but he remained silent. "You're just the delivery driver."

He stared at her, dark eyes looking up through his brows.

"So, if you're just the delivery driver, who got those women into the van, Kyle?" she asked. "And more importantly, who's running the operation?"

He continued to stare at her, silent.

"You know, whoever's above you in the food chain is absolutely going to let you go to prison for this," she told him. "Hell, they probably want you to take the fall. You gain nothing by protecting these people."

"It'll be my word against his, and no one will believe me over him," he said, low and slow, leaning towards her with a glare. "So, what's the point?" She, too, leaned forward and matched his fiery glare with a cool, flat stare.

"Your word against who's, Kyle?"

His eyes flicked towards the one-way mirror behind her, then back down to her, and she didn't miss the desperation in his eyes.

He wanted to tell her.

He looked up at the CCTV camera positioned in the corner of the room.

"Who?"

He continued to stare at her before raising his right hand, forming it into a claw shape and tapping it to his shoulder.

"That's all you're getting out of me," he said, before folding his arms over his chest.

***

"A claw shape that he tapped to his shoulder?" JJ asked. "What does that mean?"

"It's ASL," Reid said matter-of-factly, pulling out his phone.

"And what's it ASL for?" Jenkins asked him, and Reid shrugged. "I thought you were a genius."

"That doesn't mean I'm all-knowing," Reid said, simply. He began typing something into his phone.

"Great load of good that is, then," Jenkins grunted. "What do we do now?"

"Our tech analyst is looking through his cell phone history to see if there's any suspicious activity that could be an accomplice," Hotch informed him, but Y/N didn't pay much attention to Jenkin's reply as her phone vibrated.

She unlocked it and, surprised to see a text from Reid, she looked up to give him a questioning look, but he was pointedly not looking at her. Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she tapped on the notification and had to force her face to remain neutral.

Reid: It's ASL for Captain.

And that was how Reid and Y/N found themselves snooping around Jenkin's office, looking for incriminating evidence. After forwarding Reid's text to Hotch and Garcia, she slipped into his office, followed by Reid.

"This is not how we're supposed to do this!" Reid hissed at her as she rifled through one of his drawers while he kept watch. "Nothing you find like this will be admissible in court."

"Yeah, yeah," she grunted, closing the drawer as quietly as she could before opening the next one down.

"We're going to get caught."

"Not if you do a good job keeping watch, we won't," she said, reaching for a drawer with a lock on it. She pulled and it didn't budge. "Shit, it's locked," she mumbled, looking around the desk for a paperclip, which she found in a small plastic cup, and bent it into an L-shape.

"What are you doing?" Reid whispered, panicked and stepped away from the door.

"Keep watch!" she hissed back, wiggling the paperclip around and managing to twist the mechanism, unlocking the drawer. "Aha!"

"Why am I not surprised you can do that?" Reid asked, not looking at her. She glared at the back of his head.

"Because I'm a cornucopia runneth over of useful skills," she snarked as she started digging through the drawer.

"Sure, that's why," he said, but she paid no mind as she started flicking through a folder she found.

"Holy shit, Reid, I got something," she said, and he spun around to look at her.

"What, really?" he asked, walking over to her and she tilted the folder so he could see it. "Is that-?"

"Carly Smythe, yeah."

From Y/N's hands, Carly Smythe's bruised, but very alive, face stared back at them from in front of a dirty wall. She was only wearing a white tank top in the picture, and her hair was flat and greasy, eyes hardened as she glared at the camera.

This picture wasn't a part of the investigation.

The picture was stapled to another sheet of paper, one with messy writing scrawled over it.

Carly

140lbs

5'6

Brown eyes

Brown hair

No Tattoos

Limited known sexual history

Sweet voice

$10k min

$33k to Poseidon

"Oh my God," Reid muttered.

"She isn't the only one either," Y/N said, flipping through the rest of the pages, through profiles of several women, including the four known victims. "We have to get this to Hotch."

Before Reid could say anything, they heard Jenkins' voice coming from somewhere outside. Y/N's heart dropped.

"You were supposed to keep watch!" she whispered accusatorily at Reid, who sputtered out a response she didn't listen to as she lifted her shirt and shoved the folder into her pants, covering it when her shirt fell back down.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, eye flicking Wilding between her and the door as Jenkins' voice got closer.

"Smuggling this out of here," she said, like it should have been obvious.

"And what excuse are you going to give him for us being in here?" he demanded, holding his hands up in distress.

"Kiss me," she commanded, and he choked.

"Excuse me?"

"Kiss me!"

And he did.

As the door handle turned, he surged forward and their mouths connected, lips crashing together.

Reid grabbed Y/N's hips, pulling her body towards his as his tongue glided over hers, taking her by surprise as he took complete control of the kiss. She slid her hands into his hair, tugging it at the roots.

He whined into her mouth, and all higher thought ceased in Y/N's mind.

Pulling his hair harder, she kissed back with a punishing harshness, vaguely registering her ass hitting the desk as Reid pushed her against it, sliding his hands from her hips up to her waist, around her back and pulling her back against him. She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and tugged on it, making him whimper in a way that had her whole body heating up in response.

"Ahem."

Gasping, they tore away from each other and spun towards the door to see Jenkins smirking at them. "I don't think that's an appropriate workplace activity, Agents," he commented, and Y/N grinned in faux sheepishness.

"Sorry, it’s all new," she said, pushing Reid away from her less harshly that she ordinarily would. "We can't keep our hands off of each other."

"I won't tell your Captain, don't worry, sweetheart," he said, a look in his eye as he turned his gaze to her that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

Both Y/N and Reid managed to get out of the room, and the folder shoved into the front of Y/N's pants felt like it weighed a tonne.

It took less than 24 hours before Jenkins was on the other side of police custody, coughing up information about his clientele.

Six days later, four other men had been arrested for the murders of the women, and had several other murders linked to them.

Three weeks later, the Team had busted a huge ring of human trafficking.

One month later, Y/N was still thinking about that kiss.

Each member of The BAU had been rewarded (read: forced to take) a two-week period of leave after the events of the bust. Morgan had been shot, Rossi had a joint dislocated and, all-in-all, it was an incredibly stressful time.

Five days in and Y/N was going stir-crazy from both the boredom and the haunting thoughts of Reid’s mouth on hers. Every so often her mind would wonder to the plush look of his lips, or the intense furrow of his brow, or- when she was particularly out of control- the whine he’d made against her lips when she pulled his hair.

By day seven, she’d exhausted her Netflix subscription and had purchased Disney plus.

By day nine she’d nearly finished The Golden Girls and was out-of-her-mind bored.

As Dorothy made a snide comment, Y/N’s phone notification went off, and she practically jumped on it in all her enthusiasm. Her enthusiasm promptly dissipated when she realised the text was from Reid, and she rolled her eyes.

Reid: Are you busy?

You: No why?

Reid: I’m bored.

You: Okay and?

Reid: Are you telling me you’re not?

You: Well obviously but I didn’t text you to complain about it

Reid: Can I come over? Everyone else is busy. I’ll buy you pizza.

You: I can buy my own pizza

Reid: It tastes better when it’s free, no?

You: Fine you can come but if you don’t have the pizza I’m not letting you in

Reid: Deal. I’ll be there in an hour.

Oh, God, Reid was coming over.

She tidied up her living area, even rearranging the throw pillows on her couch before looking down at the ratty T-shirt she was wearing and had been wearing for a least three days. She debated leaving it on, but your skin tingled unpleasantly at the thought of Reid seeing it and she reluctantly decided to change.

But she couldn’t change into clean clothes without showering.

And if she was showering anyway, she may as well shave.

But if she shaves without exfoliating, she gets ingrown hairs.

That dangerous train of logic is what compelled her to take an ‘everything shower’, listening to music while she pampered her skin and ridded herself of all body hair. For Reid of all people too, to add insult to injury. He probably wouldn’t even appreciate it, not that she’d give him the chance to appreciate your silky-smooth legs, but still. Some acknowledgements of her immense efforts wouldn’t go amiss.

She stepped out of the shower and slathered herself in vanilla-scented lotion, before dressing into a simple pyjama set consisting of loose (but very short), plaid shorts and a black tank top. The doorbell rang just as she slid her feet into her slippers. Checking the clock, she rolled her eyes when she realised it had been almost exactly one hour since his last text, the punctual motherfucker.

She shuffled to the door and looked through the peephole to make sure it was actually Reid, snorting at the way the lens disfigured his face in a bizarre perspective, before letting him in. “Reid,” she greeted, as neutrally as she could when she wanted to tear into the pizza box that he was holding. It wasn’t lost on her that it was from her favourite local place.

“Y/L/N,” he responded in much the same tone, stepping in and slipping his shoes off and revealing a mismatched pair of truly bizarre socks, setting them on the shoe-rack beside the door. He’d known her for long enough to know she absolutely did not tolerate shoes inside her home, and she tried not to feel fond.

“That pepperoni?” she asked, jerking her head towards the pizza box.

“Obviously,” he said, shooting her a distinct look of irritation, like she’d asked a stupid question. “Hey, I don’t know your life,” she snapped. “You could be one of those freaks that like Hawaiian.”

“You know, it’s widely considered fact that the components of balanced flavour are ‘salt, acid and sugar’, so by that logic, a Hawaiian Pizza would-“

“Oh my God, you’ve been here less than five minutes and you’re already doing the thing,” she groaned, taking the pizza box from him and walking to the living area.

“What thing?” he asked, following behind her.

“The ‘uhm, actually’ thing!” she says, plopping down onto the couch and setting the box on the coffee table. He rolled his eyes again and sat down next to you, not deigning to respond.

Silence settled over the two of them.

Dying for anything to relieve the awkwardness, Y/N leaned over to grab a slice of pizza, aware of Reid’s eyes on her. She turned to shoot him a questioning look, but he didn’t meet her gaze and pointedly stared at the TV.

Fuck, his jaw was sharp, and his neck was an elegant arch.

An echo of his desperate whine ricocheted in her head for a moment as she stared at him.

Such a sweet noise from such sweet lips, pillowy and plush against hers. If a kiss was all it took to wring noises like that from him, she couldn’t help but be curious what noises he’d make if she put her hands places that weren’t his hair...

When he swallowed and cleared his throat, she snapped out of her stupor and chewed on her slice, turning back to the TV.

Half an hour later, neither of them had said anything. At some point, Y/N had taken the half-eaten pizza into the kitchen, and bought back a bottle of water for Spencer, who nodded in gratitude, but the awkward silence remained.

They snuck glances at each other, but it became apparent they didn’t know how to be civil with one another.

“So,” Y/N started clumsily. “You done anything interesting on your leave? “I- uh-“ he cleared his throat “-Re-read some of my favourite works in their original languages, I wanted to see if they held any nuances that got lost in their translation.” “Interesting,” Y/N said. “I imagine that killed time for about a day.”

“Yeah, it didn’t take long,” Reid laughed quietly. “I’ve spent the rest of the time writing to my mother and watching Doctor Who.” “It’s a good show. Tennant is the superior Doctor.” “Naturally,” Reid agreed, shockingly enough. “Although I’m partial to Eccleston for nostalgic reasons.”

“Who’s your favourite sidekick?” “Donna Noble,” he replied. “I think she had the most character, and her personality complimented The Doctor well.” “I thought Martha was cool, too,” Y/N said. “Even though she was obviously just a rebound for The Doctor to try to get over Rose.” “Some of my favourite episodes are from when Martha was on the show,” he told her and she smiled, smally at him.

“Really?” “Yeah! ‘The Waters of Mars’ was incredible!” Y/N felt her heart flutter at the way his eyes lit up and his mouth broke into a wide grin, deciding to ignore it. “Oh, God, that’s the one where the water’s poisoned and makes the people at the station into- like- zombies, right?” Y/N asked, twisting around in her seat to face him properly. “That freaked me out. Like the one in the library.”

“Where River Song is first introduced?”

The conversation flowed with an ease that was unfamiliar to them after that, and it turned out they had a lot more in common than either of them thought.

It wasn’t long before they were sifting through Y/N’s streaming service subscription, settling on a horror movie they were both fond of.

The Fly.

“You know, even with the clunky visual effects, this movie is still incredible,” Reid commented quietly, not looking away from the screen.

“Probably because it’s a romantic tragedy more than a horror movie,” Y/N said. “It doesn’t need to rely on visuals, the story-telling does most of the heavy lifting.” She turned to him. “Although the ‘clunky visual effects’ are better than some CGI I’ve seen recently.” Reid laughed at that and nodded. “Yeah, I can’t argue with that,” he said.

This was too weird, and it was making Y/N itch. It was making Y/N come closer to giving in to the urge to press her mouth to his.

“Shocking,” she said, drily, trying to shift their dynamic to what it normally was. “You usually contradict me every chance you get.” Reid stopped laughing and cast her a side-ways glance.

“I’m simply correcting you,” he said.

“My asshole you are,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “And don’t start with the whole ‘people who curse are less intelligent’ shit, or I will throw you out, pizza and all.” “And to think we managed to have several civil conversations,” he groaned, taking a sip of his water and rolling his eyes. “Well, it was nice while it lasted.” “I’m being perfectly civil,” Y/N said, knowing full-well that she wasn’t. “Just admit that you get off on proving to everyone that you’re smarter than them.” “You have no idea what I get off on,” he snapped, turning to her. When their eyes met, time stilled for a moment.

She’d never noticed before how his deep, brown eyes flashed gold in the light.

“What do you get off on then?”

The question had escaped her lips without her permission, and she abruptly snapped it closed as they looked at each other with wide eyes.

“What?” he asked wearing a look of pure shock, like he didn’t even believe he’d heard her correctly.

“Nothing!” she practically squawked, looking away from him and ignoring the feeling of her cheeks heating up.

“Did you just ask me what I get off on?” he choked out, looking incredulously at you as you awkwardly looked at him, looking away again immediately.

“Pfffft, no,” you lied, stupid as he’d clearly heard her.

“You totally did!”

“Okay, so maybe I did,” she admitted. “It kinda just slipped out, I don’t actually wanna know.” “Don’t you?” he asked, voice dropping into a husky tone she didn’t know he was capable of.

She gaped at him, not even knowing what to say. “I-“

“I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at me since we kissed,” he told her, leaning forward. “Your eyes keeping dropping to my lips, and your pupils dilate when they do.” He leaned in closer to her. “You also keep absentmindedly biting, licking and playing with your lower lip when you look at me.” “…So?” she asked, not denying it. They both know he was too good a profiler to lie to, especially about something he’d observed himself.

“So, you can’t stop thinking about it,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper. “And you want to do it again.” When she didn’t say anything, he moved closer to her, so close, in fact, that they could feel each other’s breath puffing onto their faces.

“Do you want to know why I really asked you if I could come over tonight?” he asked, lips so close to hers it was agony.

“Why?” she asked breathlessly.

“Because I want that, too.” She gave in.

With both of her hands on his cheeks, she dragged him the extra inch forward and slotted her mouth against his, swallowing down a keen that threatened to bubble out at the contact. His long, deft fingers gripped her waist and pulled her closer to him, and she followed his pull as elegantly as she could to land in his lap.

Immediately, and like she’d been wishing she could do for a long month, she sunk her fingers back into those brown curls and tugged. The soft noise he made against her lips was hardly the high-pitched whine that had haunted her, but it was enough to make her double her efforts, pressing her body against his and kissing him with poorly hidden aggression. He matched her sudden ferocity, sliding his hands around to her ass and squeezing hard enough to have her breath stuttering out of her chest. When he chuckled against her mouth, she bit down on his lower lip, just a quick tug in between her teeth, but it was enough to make him gasp, and she took that as her opportunity to pull his head back by his hair and look down at him.

Eyes blown out, cheeks flushed pink and his lower lip already kiss-swollen, he already looked like a mess.

“God, I want to fucking ruin you,” she hissed, grinding down over his hips and grinning wickedly at the firmness she felt against her. He whined, his eyes flicking upwards momentarily before he refocused on her face. “Please do,” he gasped, rocking his hips up against her, gripping her ass again.

“Already begging?” she teased. He glared at her, but it was hollow, before he reached up to grab the back of her neck and drag her to his lips again.

When their lips crushed against each other’s, Y/N’s hands immediately started to rip at Reid’s shirt, almost ripping the buttons off in her haste to get it off him. He whined into her mouth at her aggression, reluctantly taking his hands off her to slide the sleeves of his button up off his arms, leaving his chest bare to her. She raked her nails down his chest, trails of pink following her fingertips, and he arched into her with a sweet keen. She pinched his nipple with one hand, and he gasped. Taking his surprise as an opportunity, she slid her mouth across his jaw to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck, pausing to bite and suck at the sensitive juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“Oh!” Reid moaned, thrusting his hips against her particularly hard at the overwhelming sensation. “Oh, God, Y/N, please.”

“Please what?” she taunted, continuing to leave marks on his neck, and continuing to tease his chest. She ground her hips against him far more firmly, speeding up her steady rhythm. “I don’t- I- Oh!” he struggled, breaking off into a whimper before he could get the words out.

“If I knew that this was all it took to get you to shut up, I’d have done it sooner,” she said, laughing cruelly when he glared at her. Still choking out a chain of whimpers and whines, he slid his hands up her tank top, cupping her breasts, long, deft fingers pinching her nipples harshly in retaliation. She squeaked, shocked, turning to him with her own glare. He gave her a paradoxically shy little smirk, proud of himself, and it infuriated her.

When she pushed herself backwards, down his legs and away from the bulge in his pants, he whined in protest. She pulled his zipper open, shoving the soft fabric of his boxers to pull his cock out, hot and heavy in her palm; it was bigger that she thought it would be, definitely bigger than average, and delightfully thick. “Oh, God, what are you going to do with me?” he asked, voice breathless and desperate as he tried to buck into her hand, whining when her weight on his lap meant he couldn’t drive up enough to get any real friction.

“I’m gonna use you,” she told him, stroking his cock deliberately slow, squeezing around his sensitive head.

“Oh, fuck!”

“Until you can’t even think anymore.”

Nodding enthusiastically and gripping her hips, he tried to drag her back towards him, but she tsk’d. She placed a hand on his chest to push him onto the couch and used the leverage to stand up. Slowly, she began to push the waistband of her shorts down, the way he stared at the movement as though hypnotised flooded her brain with a heady feeling of power. “Reid?” she cooed, and it looked like it took a tremendous amount of effort for him to drag his eyes from her hips to her face.

“Ye-yeah?” he stuttered out, almost absentmindedly reaching for his cock and fisting himself in a loose grip. She bit her lip as she watched the tentative movement. “Do you have any condoms?” she asked, hoping to God he said yes. The hope was foiled when he looked at her with an expression of panic.

“No, shit, no, I don’t,” he huffed, and she could see him calling himself an idiot in his own head.

“Fuck it, I’m clean and on birth control,” she said. “Are you-?”

“Yes, I’m clean, Y/N,” he said, a pleading look on his face. “God, I’ve been thinking about this for a whole month, please don’t make me wait.” Ordinarily, she’d tease him, but seeing as she had felt exactly the same way, she finished sliding her shorts down her legs, leaving them on the floor as she straddled him once again. She pushed her hips down on his, grinding her wet pussy over the throbbing heat of his cock and they both gasped. “Please, don’t tease,” he begged, looking up at her with the saddest puppy dog eyes. “Just fuck me, oh my God, please.”

“Eager,” she teased and slapped her ass in retaliation, making her yelp and jolt forward, making her wetness slide over his cock once again. She started grinding down deliberately hard to get back at him.

He threw his head back and gasped, and she took that as a chance to start sucking and nibbling on the column of his throat.

It didn’t take long before he was whining in that sweet, sweet way that made her head spin. “Please!” he whimpered desperately, pushing his hips up to meet her movements, and she relented. Pulling away from his neck, she lifted herself up before sinking down on his cock.

“Fuck!” “Oh, God!”

He was fully inside of her, stretching her out in a dull ache as her adjusted to him. “Fuck, you’re so big,” she mumble, gently starting to rock as the ache lessened. He didn’t respond, and the glazed look in his eyes made her question if he’d even heard her. He grabbed her ass, kneading the firm flesh in a way she thoroughly appreciated.

Slowly, she started bouncing, and he screwed his eyes shut, whimpering quietly at the almost overwhelming feeling of her hot, wet pussy squeezing him. “You feel like heaven,” he whispered, jaw going slack as she started moving faster.

It didn’t take long before they we both panting, flushed and desperate as the moved against each other. At some point, Reid had wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the crook of her neck, licking and sucking and biting wherever he could reach.

Y/N sunk her hands into his hair, gripping it tightly to keep him there as the brutal pace she had set brought her closer to the edge. The way he was practically sobbing into her neck told her he was close, too.

“Reid,” she panted, pulling his head away from her neck by his hair. He looked up at her, flushed cheeks and mouth hanging open, eyebrows hitched and eyes watery. He looked so fucked out she couldn’t help the pride that rushed through her. “Are you close, baby?” she asked him with a cruel smirk, and he nodded pathetically, crying out when she gripped his hair tighter to cease the movement.

“Please,” he begged. “I’m so close!” “Don’t you dare cum before I do,” she hissed, leaning back a little so the hand that wasn’t in his hair could rub her clit.

“I’m trying, I’m trying, but you feel so good! Ah, ah, please cum, please cum, please cum!”

His begging, desperate and needy, pushed her over the edge, her fingers on her clit and his cock filling her up as she toppled over the precipice of her orgasm. She cried out his name as her walls shuddered around him, dragging him over too. He cried out, louder than he had before as his orgasm wreaked havoc on his body, his legs shaking and tears finally dropping onto his cheeks. He babbled an incoherent stream of pleas as oversensitivity kicked in, crying that it was too much as she rode her own orgasm.

Her bouncing slowed to a still and she fell against him, both breathing heavily and flushed.

It took several minutes for both to catch their breath, and for coherent thought to be functional again.

Y/N hurried into the bathroom to clean herself up and tried to not spiral into panic; not only had she has sex with a coworker and totally violated the fraternisation policies at the bureau she’d had sex with Reid. Worse, she realised she didn’t regret it. She should, but she doesn’t, and she has never believed in being guilty about things that don’t warrant guilt.

She supposed it was harmless, really. Honestly, if they had this new way of working out their animosity towards each other, they’d probably be more pleasant to be around.

So, really, fucking him was for the good of the team.

Yeah, I’m totally doing it for the team, she told herself as she finished cleaning herself up.

When she left the bathroom and returned to the living room, his shirt was back on his body and his cock was tucked back into his pants. He was sitting there looking so awkward it was painful, and he didn’t look at her when she sat beside him.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he said quietly, and she sighed. “No, we shouldn’t have,” she agreed. He nodded, eyes not moving from his hands where they were folded in his lap. “So, what now?” he asked.

“I have condoms in my dresser,” she offered, laughing when his head shot up and he looked at her so incredulous it would have been offensive if it wasn’t so funny. “You don’t want to do it again?” “No, no, I do,” he rushed out with pinkening cheeks. “I just didn’t think that you’d want to! “Well, I do,” she said matter-of-factly before standing up and walking towards the bedroom. When he didn’t immediately follow, she turned around with a raised eyebrow. “Are you coming or not?” she asked.

Reid had quite possibly never moved so fast in his life as he followed her giggles to her bedroom.

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #sub!spencer #spencer reid fanfiction

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writingsofwesteros · 11 days

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/writingsofwesteros/761591864288837632/imagine-otto-being-greedy-and-marrying-one-of

Omg Ik im gonna love this au!!!!

Poor princess is trembling and nearly crying at the sight of her betrothed, the man towering over her shirtless and covered in blood. He’d already be so possessive and obsessed, grabbing her pretty gown and face covering her in whoever’s blood was splattered against him. He will soon learn that he received the tamest of dragons, but he’ll make sure his sweet girls will get used to and fit right in house Bolton.

Imagine them during Luke’s petition, Alicent feels revealed that her girl still looks as sweet and innocent as she left. Dressed in pretty pink gowns with a glowing smile and being happy to see her family. All is good until lord vaemond is murdered, watching as she doesn’t flinch and maybe even giggles to her husband at the sight of the gruesome death.

!!!!

Oh he manipulates her so good; getting her used to the violence and even enjoying it

(the greens gaining a strong ally and the Princess being a loose cannon but still being so sweet and innocent )

Alas, he keeps her close for those first few months - slowly bringing her into the family.

And those pretty pink dresses look so delicious on her as she gracefully walks through the walls - the common folk adore her because she's so sweet

#bolton life

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galaxymagitech · 2 months

Text

Just had a plot idea that I’ll probably never write because the themes are likely a bit too dark for me:

AU where Bludhaven never explodes and One Year Later isn’t a thing. Dick ends up returning to his position in the Bludhaven Police Department. And then, he’s handed a case where he has a definite conflict of interest that he absolutely cannot explain.

See, Catalina Flores was found gruesomely murdered. No leads, except the fact that whoever killed her wanted it to hurt.

Dick thinks he can handle this case. There are a lot of people who could want a former gang leader dead, and he just has to find out which one did it. Whoever killed her broke the law, so it’s only right that they end up behind bars…even if Dick knows he belongs there too. (Even if part of Dick is glad she’s gone.) But all of the suspects are turning out to be innocent, and Dick is completely at a loss. Meanwhile, another Nightwing has shown up in Bludhaven, killing in Dick’s name. A Nightwing who knows far too much about Blockbuster’s murder.

Or, in other words, Jason did some digging, disposed of a spider, and is now attempting his canonical poorly-thought-out brotherly bonding.

(Of course, Dick figures it out eventually. But he can’t confront Jason about killing Catalina Flores, because then he’d have to acknowledge why Jason killed Catalina Flores.)

#fanfic ideas #batman #dc #dc comics #dcu #batfamily #batfam #dick grayson #jason todd #text post #textpost #catalina flores #tw: rape #I don’t know if this applies #because it’s not explicitly discussed #but just to be sure

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silhouetteonpaper · 2 months

Text

MISSING

Summary: When another average day of work leaves you with piles and piles of casework, you’re surprised to see the missing persons report amidst the stack of papers. Jumping headfirst into solving the case, who could have ever predicted where it would leave you? Natasha Romanoff x Reader WC: 2,343 Warnings: Talks of experimentation, mentions of gruesome events

MISSING

Another stack of word-heavy papers are thrown onto your desk with a thud. You sigh, glaring at the agent who dropped them off, now leaving quickly in an effort to avoid any protest. Learning forward, you pick up the papers and start skimming through their contents.

New case file… missing persons… the same type of case work that usually fills your time, nothing about it catches your eye—that is, until you flip to the missing person’s profile. A blurry, black-and-white photo of a little girl is stapled to the page, the black text containing very little information.

It’s not the fact she’s a young girl that catches your eye—most missing persons’ cases these days have something to do with finding a child or family member now that the blip is over. But this file had nothing to do with that, instead a different kind of anomaly you weren’t expecting.

Missing Person: Super-human Abilities - RED LEVEL THREAT. The text leaves your mouth dry, thumbs frantically searching through the file to find any helpful information. Last seen in 2003… that’s far from helpful. It’s hard to tell what age the young girl is in the photo, but if you had to guess, you’d say around eight years old.

You’re no stranger to unknown super-humans on the loose, but a red level threat is never anything to take lightly. Still, something about her expression makes your heart ache, though it’s hard to make out small details from the pixelated image. You can tell she’s scared, and the only thing you hope is that she’s somehow safe. Because looking at the lackluster file, you have no clue how you’re going to solve this.

Hoping to get some added guidance, you take the troublesome case to the smartest people you know. Sitting around the conference table while discussing something definitely not related to work, you have no trouble interrupting by placing the papers in front of Tony Stark.

“I need your guys’ help on this case.” You voice, watching Natasha and Tony look up with a confused curiosity. They take turns looking over the file, glancing back and forth between each other and its pages.

“A red level threat, huh? Since when are they giving you big cases?” Tony teases nonchalantly, earning an eye roll from you. Grabbing back the papers after Natasha finishes skimming them, you watch as Tony types away on his computer.

“There’s barely anything on her, this is seriously all we know?” Nat questions, eyeing both you and Tony for confirmation. You only nod, taking another peek at the file yourself. Maybe if you read it enough times, some hidden information would reveal itself.

Your focused research is interrupted when Tony lights up. “We’re in business! I matched the image to the location it was taken…” he pulls up a hologram screen, displaying the digital files he somehow accessed. Immediately relieved you came to these two for help, you watch as a map appears before your eyes.

Suddenly, pit of dread forms in your stomach, the building marked clearly with an all too familiar logo. “HYDRA.” You state, seeing the same skull and tentacle logo that haunts your past. It’s no secret you were experimented on all those years ago, but it’s not something you talk about often.

Now finding solace in helping the Avengers, you’ve found a way to make light of your dark past. But right now, all that matters is making sure whoever this girl is has that same chance. You blink away tears that seemed to form as you’re brought back to the present. “Do you think they still have her? After all this time?” Natasha questions, taking in every detail of the map.

“Well, who filed her as missing?” Tony asks you. You can only shrug, knowing that information is usually classified. The only information you had wasn’t as helpful to the matter.

“All I know is she was filed missing back in 2003, and now they’re re-opening the case. I’m assuming it’s because they’ve figured out she’s got HYDRA level enhancements.” I explain, thinking out loud. Tony nods, turning the hologram off as he continues his own research.

“You can’t go missing unless someone is looking for you in the first place. Do you think she had a family? Or do you think HYDRA is behind this?” Natasha continues to think. You ponder her idea for a moment.

Would HYDRA really be smart enough to do what Nat is insinuating? “Like if she escaped, and HYDRA’s using this as a way to sniff her out?” You hypothesize, the nerves inside your chest growing.

Natasha nods. “Bingo.” It’s not that you don’t believe it could be true, it’s that you hope it isn’t. You know more than anyone just how scary it is to be HYDRA’s secret weapon one minute and target the next.

“I’ll see if I can find who filed the report back in 2003,” Tony offers. “In the meantime, try to find anything helpful. If we knew her abilities, we could track them.”

You take a deep breath, nodding before exiting his office to find any scraps of information possible. It’s hard to deny you’re unsettled by this case, the missing girl’s story quite similar to yours. While you think you’re in a healthy mindset to solve this mystery, a part of you still hasn’t fully processed what happened.

HYDRA is known for their experimentation on kids, and you’re not surprised that yet another victim is on the loose. But the feeling of an innocent girl now corrupted by their malice actions makes your heart ache. After all, you were once that girl.

Brushing aside your past to the best of your ability, you decide to search through the HYDRA manifest SHIELD acquired long ago. It was a record of all experiments they performed, one of the only copies as HYDRA wanted to keep it on the down low.

The boxes of browned paper seemed endless, barely any organization to the multitude of files; heaps of innocent lives all written onto paper like objects. Each sheet of paper included one subject, occasionally a photo, and everything done to them. You can't help but skim some of the text, your stomach flipping at the cruel procedures.

After three hours of sifting through novels worth of paper, you decide to take a break. Tony probably has more information at this point, or at least you hope. You’re in need of some good news after seeing the terrifying reality of so many of those HYDRA victims.

“Hey, any updates?” You ask Tony as you stroll into his office. He nods, pulling his attention from whatever he was working on.

“The report was called in by a married couple, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson,” He shrugs. “There’s not much else on them in my system, they seem to be an average suburban family.”

Sighing, you rub your forehead in deep thought. “Of course they have one of the most common last names… damn it.”

“How’s your research going?” Tony asks, genuinely curious. You laugh in a slightly manic demeanor, all those hours of looking through files making you delirious.

“Not great. I’ve been searching through the HYDRA manifest all day, and so far nothing. I’ve barely made a dent.” You explain. Tony stands, making you raise a brow.

“I’ll help, we all will. C’mon, let’s find this missing kid.”

It doesn’t take long for Tony to gather the entire team in the storage room, everyone pulling out profiles to identify your missing girl. You can feel each Avenger hesitate as more and more gruesome content appears on the pages, some of the heroes unaware of how terrible HYDRA really could be.

You’re about to give up, another few hours having passed. It’s a seemingly endless flood of victims, and if anything it’s making you more depressed. As you shift in your seat, about to stand, Natasha gets your attention.

“Uh, guys…” Her weary voice makes your heart stop beating. The entire team keeps their eyes glued to her while silence fills the space.

“What is it Nat?” You finally ask. It’s like the redhead's eyes are stuck on the paper, her mouth open but no words seem to come out.

“I…” Natasha starts, but the words catch in her throat. You’re about to rip the paper from her hands when she finally speaks. “The girl… it’s you.” Her eyes land directly on you in fear, the air inside your lungs disappearing as she flips the paper toward you.

There’s no way, you tell yourself. You’ve made amends with the past you’d never be able to recover; it isn’t possible that now, all these years later it’s suddenly appearing out of thin air. But Natasha’s right, the photo clipped to paper is a clear image of a younger looking you, there’s no denying it.

Everyone is in shock, your ears ringing as you take the paper from her hands. It wouldn’t have mattered though, the entire room was engulfed in silence as the team waited for your reaction.

Sure enough, on the page read your full name, the detailed list of everything you went through now flashing before your eyes. The storm that once gripped your entire life was all coming back, and you couldn’t stop it.

“I have to go-“ You manage to voice before dropping the paper and fleeing the room, your fear carrying you faster than your body as you end up locked away in your bedroom. The little girl caught in your past finds her way back inside you; the dread fills your chest as you sink to the floor.

Tears begin to cascade down your cheeks, the young girl with terrified beady eyes burned into your mind now staring straight at you. You can’t get rid of her even if you tried, no matter how many years pass or how far you run.

This job was supposed to save you, the girl who was fleeing in search of hope. And it did, for a while, each day filled with saving the world in one way or another. But now, in your overwhelmed state, you’re not sure if you can ever truly be saved.

A soft knock on the door makes you jump, the fervent anxiety increasing as you turn to see who’s brave enough to check on you.

Of course, it’s exactly who you expected. “Hey,” Natasha steps into the room, her concerned expression showing as she bends down next to you. “I know this is all a lot, but there’s something you need to see.”

You feel like you’re glued to the floor, but something about Nat’s soothing voice convinces you to wipe your tears and follow her all the way into Tony’s lab.

The entire team is already there, everyone looking up with worried faces as soon as you step inside. It makes you want to crawl back to your room, but a part of you can’t deny you’re curious as to what Nat needs you to see.

“Remember how I said an average married couple filed the missing persons report?” Tony reminds you as you approach him. You nod, sniffing back stray tears. “Well, I looked at your HYDRA file a little closer. Your birth name is at the bottom… Johnson. It looks like HYDRA changed it to avoid any suspicion.”

It doesn’t take long for your eyes to widen. You easily understand the connection between you and whoever filed the report. They are family, and they’re looking for you. Seeing your unsure expression, Tony motions for you to look at his computer screen. In the time it took you to have your meltdown, he’s already scanned your HYDRA file.

“Here, see? Birth name, Johnson. And over here… missing persons report filed by Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. That can’t be a coincidence.” He explains. You look over the screen, a new kind of anxiety filling you.

You don’t remember your parents, all those years of torture at HYDRA blocked out too many memories; you eventually just tried to forget everything about your past, unable to sort through what was good or bad. Even though you’re more than content here with the Avengers, there’s a part of you that longs for true family.

“I want to talk to them.” You state blankly. The group of heroes all exchange an unsure look.

Natasha puts a hand on your shoulder. “Are you sure? There’s a chance they aren’t-“

“I want to talk to them, please.” You repeat, nodding at Tony. He takes a deep breath, looking the pair up on his computer like last time. It takes only a moment for him to get an address for their workplace, a bakery a few miles away.

The idea of having family that works at a bakery makes you smile, but a part of you feels a sense of anger. It could have been part of your childhood, but it wasn’t. You didn’t grow up amongst the fresh loaves of bread and pastries, you were raised by criminals who used you.

Swallowing whatever overwhelming emotion swirled inside, you took a deep breath and mustered up any spare courage. “Thank you, I’ll be back later,” You manage to tell the group. You can see the look on Natasha’s face, like she’s about to offer to join you on your venture.

Cutting her short before she can speak, you reassure her. “I need to do this alone, I think. I’ll call you if I need anything.” She only nods as you walk toward the door.

“Wait,” Nat finally speaks up, her familiar concerned expression unwavered. “Whatever you learn, know that you’ll always have a place here. I think I speak for everyone when I say we have so much love for you.” Her words make the entire team nod in agreement, and you feel your eyes water once again.

Holding the tears off for now, you give Natasha one last hug before swiftly exiting the building, your feet carrying you with a new hope toward the bakery that holds your future.

#marvel #mcu #the avengers #marvel fanfic #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader

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apocalypse-shuffle · 9 months

Text

BLACK NOIR | EARVING (the boys)

────────────────────

“Pandora’s Melody” (Black Noir x Fem!Reader)

| It’s your first Christmas Benefit since working for Vought and you’re starting to chafe a little at all the rules. Least the music’s finally getting good tho.

| SFW, office rules, workplace discrimination(?), Vought International’s dress code policy & casual disregard of The Crown Act

| Pic Source: The Boys (s1)

| 800+ words

“Don’t fuck this up,” Ashley had said, sweaty handkerchief that was far too drenched to mop anything else up clenched tightly inside her fist, and a closed lip smile straining her spotty red painted lips.

And for your part you’d smiled back, nodded your head like a heavily - and repeatedly - hit bobble head; eager to keep your position and even more desperate not to be seen as the unfriendly black girl lest you lose your job.

To your credit it’s not until far later in the evening when everybody’s inhabitions are totally fucked, the camera crews and reporters are gone, and even most of The Seven have left to do things far less beneath them than attending a company mixer that you loosen the hold your heart’s keeping on Ashley’s words just…a bit.

Suddenly the music gets a little less mind numbingly fucking boring too and your mood gets a little less sullen, and even with your mandatory three inch heels shackled to your feet you finally begin to feel the music. So bobbing along, and finally downing the singular glass you’d been nursing the whole evening, you find yourself searching out whoever’s creating the new and far more engaging melody.

Your heart almost stops when you realize it’s Black Noir at the piano, gloved fingers flying over the keys, quite literally the only hero still bothering to attend this thing.

When a quick glance up shows that even Mr. Edgar’s no longer in attendance - though never unseeing you’re sure - you start talking mostly out of shock. You’ve never really been this close to any of the hero’s before now.

“Good - ah - good choice,” you murmur, “Hapless is really just such a downer for a Christmas Benefit.”

Muscles tense and breath short, fingers clasped together behind your back like a vice, you wait a beat for his reaction.

When all he does is kind of glance your way though you nearly breath out a sigh right in front of him before catching yourself, and you feel so free that for a second you want to take your hair down from its “more professional” slicked back bun so you can really feel the music through you.

Instead you untuck your dress shirt to quell the urge. Fuck, your pantssuit was starting to feel increasingly more suffocating the longer you worked here. At this point you felt like you’d end up buried in the damn thing then forced to partially exist as a pantsuit wearing ghost for the rest of your forever unrest for good measure—

—annnd think positive thoughts. The music is good, you want to sway. You settle for keeping up your subtle head bop and adding a few soundless taps against your thigh to the mix.

After he doesn’t slice you in half - or some other such gruesome death dealing action - you take another few moments to identify the song Noir himself has begun playing.

It’s lovely, and as much as you want to close your eyes to visualize the song’s name a bit better in your mind you opt not to so you can continue watching the way that Noir plays.

It’s more graceful than you’d expect (but considering the way you’d seen him train that was a little foolish of you). The silent hero’s fingers move across the keys like a true virtuoso, hands gliding from note to note with hardly a thought but still exactly right. In the entire time that it takes you to place the song he doesn’t miss a single beat and doesn’t lose his tempo; not a thing about how he plays looks or even sounds off.

Normally you’d be remiss to label anything perfect, but if there were ever an exception…

…Noir’s playing was perfect.

A small smile stretches your plush lips.

Delightfully so.

“The Minute Waltz,” you say after finally placing the song, only shuffling in place a little.

Which is how in the next minute you end up seated next to him after his head had snapped to you - and honestly you’d half figured he’d stopped minding you by that point so you’d been plenty surprised to find out otherwise.

Black Noir had stared you into submission with exactly one incline of his head to convey his invitation in any clear manner until, with held breath and a prayer, you’d sat down beside him where he’d made room on the piano bench.

Then it’s touch and go as - with your heart firmly in your throat and hoping to god you don’t screw anything up - Noir takes to eventually wanting you as more than just a captive audience. He plays a few simple chords, pauses, then looks over to you until after not too long you begin copying him.

By the end of the function your heart’s settled and you can slowly, but steadily, get through the entirety of Gymnopedie No.1 - with Noir pushing the pedal of course.

He even gives you a little silent round of applause once you’ve played through it on your own.

Like that, Noir at your side and surrounded by all the drunk limp dicks you work with tripping and throwing up over themselves, is the first time you feel like a real part of Vought.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!

Um, I just wrote this tonight at random and with a cold so if there’s mistakes no there isn’t. Also, it’s Christmas and I figured I had a themed fic in me tonight so here you go and Happy Holidays (I guess)!

Don’t question how the Reader-Insert knows the names of these songs, it doesn’t matter.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

#black noir #earving #black!reader #black y/n #black noir x black!reader #the boys x black!reader #christmas fic #black noir x reader #black noir imagine #x black!reader #the boys #the boys imagine #the boys black noir #the boys earving #the boys x reader #vought international

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lilyway · 8 months

Text

Icarus {Alastor x Reader} Part 3

Warnings: Blood, Gore, Death and canon-typical violence. Please be aware of these warnings going forward.

This is the last part. I'd love to hear your thoughts. This is 9k words. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Part 3: My Dearly Beloved

The annual extermination proved to be more brutal than ever, a relentless onslaught against the denizens of Hell that left the air thick with the stench of blood and despair. With each swing of her halberd, she condemned countless souls to their fate. The only unexpected thing that happened was Adam's unexpected act of pouring sinner's blood over her head.

A few rare moments away from Lute’s watchful eye, (Name) searched for any signs of Alastor amidst the chaos of the extermination. As she scanned the blood-stained skies. searching for a glimpse of her beloved husband, she couldn't shake the pang of disappointment that rang true in the depths of her soul. Alastor remained true to his word and didn’t come back to meet her this year. He may have remained elusive this time, but there was the next year and the year after that.

The triumphant cheers of her fellow exorcists reverberated through Heaven as they returned. (Name) watched the exorcists raise their bloody weapons high in the sky as they cheered. Her eyes turned to her halberd which didn’t look much better. Her halberd, a weapon now adorned with the remnants of the sinners that she had killed. (Name)'s gaze lingered on the crimson stains and bits of flesh clinging to the weapon's edges. Her face recoiled at the sight as bile threatened to leave her stomach.

(Name) didn’t look much better than her weapon. Her once lustrous chocolate brown hair now bore the blackish crimson hue of dried blood, its strands matted and tangled with the residue of the dead. With each strand of hair clinging to her face, she wore the marks of the battlefield like a somber crown. As she ran her bloody fingers through her hair. (Name)'s fingers hesitated as they combed through the tangled mess of something brushed against her fingertips. Her mind raced with unsettling possibilities, each more gruesome than the last. Was it a fragment of flesh, torn from one of the sinners she had dispatched?

Shaking the thought out of her mind, (Name) grabbed the hem of her skirt and wrung the blood out of that side of her dress. She just wanted to cleanse herself of their blood. Being an exorcist was messy work, but coming back looking like she bathed in their blood wasn’t something she signed up for.

"Good work, everyone!" Adam's voice boomed with a mixture of excitement and determination, echoing through the room as the exorcists rejoiced in the aftermath of their battle.

Amidst the celebration, (Name)'s sigh punctuated the air, exhaustion clinging to her as she started to make her way back to her dorm. While (Name) was leaving, she faltered as Lute's stern gaze beckoned her to follow. Lute led her back into the building into a quiet nook.

"Need something?" (Name)'s voice, tinged with weariness, cut through the silence. Her fingers absentmindedly wiped the blood from her cheek, only serving to smear it further across her skin.

"Adam needs you to head back down to the embassy," That was a surprise. They were just here! Who in their right mind would have a meeting right after the extermination? "Bring whoever shows up to the office."

(Name)'s raised brow at the request. “We were just there," she countered, her tone laced with a hint of frustration at the sudden demand.

"Maven," Lute's sharp retort brooked no argument, her glare piercing through any resistance. "The meeting is in forty-five minutes. You better get moving."

“At least let me shower,” Lute’s only response was to point a finger behind her and narrow her eyes

"Just go," Lute's command was firm, her gesture directing (Name) down the hallway.

Fortunately, the exorcist building boasted an elevator in its basement, offering (Name) a fleeting opportunity to rid herself of the grime that clung to her like a second skin. With deft fingers, she attempted to dislodge the stubborn remnants of battle from her hair, a futile effort to restore some semblance of dignity to her disheveled appearance. She resisted the urge to dispose of the detritus of their confrontation in the corridors, mindful of the disapproval it would undoubtedly invite from her comrades.

Alone in the confines of the elevator, (Name) found herself afforded a rare moment of solitude, a brief respite from the ever-watchful eyes of Adam and Lute. As the glass panels encasing the elevator reflected her disheveled form back to her, she couldn't help but notice the amount of blood on her person. Her once pristine wings bore the stains of countless skirmishes, each crimson blotch made her want to throw up. Even the halo above her head, once a beacon of celestial purity, now bore a subtle crimson hue.

In the short ride down, time seemed to stretch for an eternity. Her thoughts returned to Alastor and what he could’ve been doing. Was he safe? Was he there, waiting for her? What she would give to know the answers to her questions.

💟

As (Name) stepped out of the elevator, she found herself enveloped in the eerie stillness of the lobby. The dimly lit space stretched out before her, its pristine surfaces untouched by time. It was clear that the building never saw much use. Rows of empty seats lined the walls, their silent presence a stark contrast to the bustling energy outside.

Running her fingers across the smooth surface of a nearby sofa, (Name) revealed a thin layer of dust. The sight stirred a sense of unease within her, a reminder of the solitude that permeated the empty expanse of the lobby. As she continued to explore the desolate space, (Name)'s footsteps echoed softly against the polished floors.

Her gaze swept across the rows of empty seats, lingering on the faint traces of dust that clung to their surfaces. A part of her wondered if anyone would be coming. Would they even find this place? It was clear as day that no one ever stepped foot in here.

Alone in the empty lobby, (Name)'s senses were heightened, her awareness attuned to the distant echoes of chaos that reverberated from the streets beyond. The faint sounds of commotion reached her ears, she wanted to try and take a look outside for a moment.

Despite the curiosity that tugged at her, urging her to venture outside and uncover the source of the disturbance, (Name) hesitated. The thought of confronting the unknown dangers that lurked beyond the safety of heaven. She was in hell and they would tear her apart as soon as she stepped through the door.

It was a risk she wasn’t willing to take, not without proper preparation and support. The streets of hell were unforgiving, where danger lurked around every corner. But, she didn’t want to become demon food.

With a determined focus, (Name) pulled the trash can closer, its metal surface clattering softly against the floor as she settled into one of the vacant seats. Determined to restore a semblance of order to her disheveled appearance, she set about the arduous task of removing the grisly remnants that clung stubbornly to her hair.

The process was far from glamorous, each stroke of the comb bringing forth a tangled web of gore and viscera. Yet, despite the repulsive nature of her task, (Name) persevered, her hands steady as she picked the gore out.

As her fingers glided through the tangled strands, the thought of shearing off her long locks and returning them to a more manageable length flickered through (Name)'s mind. The idea of cutting it back to a more practical length seemed tempting, almost liberating in its simplicity. She imagined the sensation of sharp blades slicing through the tangled mess.

Yet, even as the notion took root in her mind, (Name) hesitated. She remembered her mother telling her that hair is a girl’s crown. That hair holds memories even the smallest insignificant ones. (Name) couldn’t cut it and only did when it got past her knees. Having long hair was probably the main reason she was in this mess.

Her thoughts wandered back to Alastor as she ran her fingers through her bloodstained hair. What was Alastor doing right now? Did he manage to survive this year's extermination? Her every question had no answer and she was left alone in the empty lobby.

Did he still love her even now? After all these years? Was their love strong enough to survive almost a century? He kissed her, sure, but that was more of a goodbye kiss.

(Name)'s blood-stained hands hung in front of her, and her hands dropped back down to her lap. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so out of control, so utterly lost amidst the chaos of her own emotions. In the wake of that brief encounter, she found herself grappling with doubts and uncertainties that threatened to consume her.

She had always prided herself on her composure, always having the appearance of someone who was well put together. But now, as she sat alone in the empty lobby, the weight of her emotions bore down upon her like a suffocating blanket, leaving her feeling raw and exposed.

How could one meeting leave her so shaken, so fragile that she could break at any moment.

She couldn’t understand what Alastor did to her.

As her eyes lingered on the door, debating her options and what she actually could do. On one hand, the allure of venturing outside, of braving the chaotic streets in search of Alastor, tugged at her heartstrings with an almost irresistible force. The prospect of catching even a fleeting glimpse of him would be enough for her.

But, she would probably be ripped apart.

The safest option was staying here and falling deeper into her potential madness. It sure felt like it.

As (Name) sank back into the cushioned seat, she allowed her thoughts to drift far and back to safety that would be Alastor’s embrace. He was her comfort, her love, and her everything. She loved him more than life itself. But, did he love her the way she did?

Closing her eyes and leaned back into the soft cushions as she tried to think of better days to wash away her doubt.

“Do you know I fell in love with you,” (Name) whispered, her voice quivering slightly.

Amidst the haze of cigarette smoke and the lingering scent of alcohol, (Name) found herself back in a familiar dimly lit bar. The soft melody of the piano drifted through the air, casting a spell of melancholy over the patrons, but there was something buried deep in the notes. Something bright and hopeful.

“I can’t remember, how long has it been?”

Seated alone, (Name)'s gaze wandered, tracing the patterns of the swirling smoke as it curled upwards toward the ceiling. The muted chatter of the bar faded into the background as she lost herself in the haunting strains of the music and the man playing them.

The soft glow of the bar's dim lighting seemed to cast a halo around Alastor as he sat at the piano, his fingers dancing gracefully across the keys. (Name) couldn’t help but tear her gaze from her drink as she shifted to view the performance. The emotion he put into every note was his head bobbing up and down as he immersed himself in his performance.

Lost in the melody, (Name)'s smile danced upon her lips as she hummed along to the gentle strains of Alastor's tune. Pulling her cool drink to her lap as time seemed to be a concept that no longer mattered.

"All I know," She sang softly, her voice a mere whisper against the backdrop of the piano playing in her mind. "Is this love within my heart, waiting for you."

Her gaze drifted back to Alastor, who played with a quiet intensity, his fingers caressing the keys with practiced skill. There was a distant look in his eyes as if lost in a world of his own creation, yet his music spoke volumes, reaching out to touch the hearts of those who listened.

As his song ended his eyes traveled across the audience and lingered on her as a brief smile appeared on his lips. That was all it took for her eyes to quickly drop back down to her drink. “Can’t you see, what you mean to me?”

In a foolish attempt to control her nerves, she took a big gulp of her cocktail. It didn’t do much to hide her flushed cheeks as her heart raced in her ears. “How I wish you could read my mind,”

That was their first meeting, something as mundane as anything else. Someone who was here for a good time and someone who was trying to drink her problems. It might have been brief, just eye contact from across the room with an occasional smile.

Soon turned to her singing directly at him and stumbled when he flashed her smile. He made her a mess and she loved every butterfly that fluttered in her stomach. “All these feelings, I could never find.”

The first time he tried to speak to her was when she was leaving, (Name)'s heart raced as she found herself face-to-face with Alastor. His presence, so close and unexpected, left her speechless, her mind reeling with anxiety. She stood on unsteady legs as the world around her seemed to blur.

“The right words to explain…” (Name) couldn’t escape her memory as she watched her younger self make a fool of herself.

Alastor was trying to say something, but she couldn’t hear it. There was too much alcohol in her system and it was making her woozy. With a shake of her head, without a word, she turned and bolted from the bar, her heels pounding against the pavement.

“Like the snow, all my love,” She followed them out into her memory palace as she stayed an outsider in her memories.

(Name) would feel her aching feet in the morning as she practically sprinted down the street. Alastor ran after her after his surprise wore off. She didn’t even realize that she was going to leave without her jacket and that it was in his hands.

“Falling down from above,”

He tried to call out to her but that only pushed her to run faster. She was almost back to her parent’s house when Alastor caught up to her and grabbed her wrist. Her head snapped back as his chest rose and fell with uneven breaths. Alastor looked so disheveled with his glasses falling off his nose with the mess of curls his hair became.

“In time,” (Name) could feel her lips curling into a wistful smile as she remembered how young they were back then. They had to be in their early twenties with the whole world in front of them.

(Name) was grateful for the alcohol casting a pink flush across her cheeks. She couldn’t help herself and muttered ‘You’re beautiful’ in her drunken haze. In that moment, with his disheveled appearance and the intensity of his gaze, Alastor looked more beautiful to her than ever before.

(Name)'s gaze drifted down to her wrist, where Alastor's touch lingered, firm yet gentle. His fingertips pressed against her skin with a softness that made her heart flutter. It was too considerate, he was trying to get her to slow down and stop hurting her feet. If he didn’t stop her here, she probably would’ve run all the way home.

“It piles high, as if to touch the sky.”

Alastor held into her hand for what felt like an eternity, as the starry sky framed his body. He wasn’t doing anything to help the deep blush growing on her face. His disheveled appearance was doing something horrible to her heart. It was racing as it pounded in her ears. How she observed his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He was truly something else.

As they strolled down the streets, Alastor walked by her side, her wrist free from his grasp. There was enough space between them where no one would have any misunderstandings. He was being a gentleman and just walking her back to her parent’s house. The air was filled with a sense of calm, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of nocturnal creatures.

She tried to bridge the silence with small talk and it was a futile attempt to make time go by. The only topic she thought of was the stars hanging above them. The tapestry of twinkling little lights that shined down on them made him seem like a prince. Her eyes kept falling back to him as he glanced up at the sky.

Alastor, his eyes narrowing with a subtle intensity, as he looked for the star she was pointing at. Alastor, his eyes narrowing as he focused his gaze made her heart skip a beat. The faintest adjustment of his glasses added an air of mystery. How his eyes glittered as the stars reflected in them. I

In her unaware state, (Name)'s steps faltered, and she stumbled over her own feet. The ground approached swiftly, before she hit the ground Alastor's swift reflexes intervened. He caught her by the waist, his grip firm yet gentle, and she was speechless.

“Hold me tight,”

Alastor's proximity seemed to tiptoe the line between comfort and unease. His cologne was casting a spell that was leaving (Name)'s senses reeling. (Name)'s thoughts raced, she found herself ensnared by the intensity of Alastor's brown eyes. His gaze, like a whirlpool pulling her deeper into its depths, seemed to swallow any words of thanks that dared to escape her lips. (Name) felt her defenses crumble, her honey-colored eyes meeting him in a silent exchange that spoke volumes.

“This can’t be right.”

With a gentle yet firm grip, Alastor helped (Name) back to her feet. A faint chuckle escaped his lips, this was awkward but it didn’t matter to her. (Name) couldn't help but feel grateful that he didn't mention her goofy expression.

As he extended his arm, a silent invitation for her to lean on him, and she gladly accepted. Despite his seemingly unassuming demeanor, Alastor's build proved to be surprisingly strong and supportive. As he walked her back home, it was a short and sweet little walk.

“This can’t be how it’s meant to feel,” (Name) remembered the butterflies that flew wildly in her stomach too well. How she could barely get a sentence in without making herself look a fool.

Alastor, with a casual ease, left (Name) at her doorstep, his steps carrying him back toward the bar. (Name) couldn't let him slip away so easily. With a determined yell, she shouted for him to stop and give her his name.

Turning around, Alastor met her gaze with a soft smile, turning her legs into jelly. He told her to ask again when she would remember it and not drunk. That would be the only time he’d tell her.

“But I can’t turn back time now cause,”

The front door slammed shut with a resounding echo. (Name)'s hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway, waking her parents who jumped to their feet. Throwing open the door of her childhood room and collapsing into her mattress. Her hands found purchase in her pillows and dragged it to her chest.

“I love you,”

With each ragged breath, (Name)'s heart threatened to break free from the confines of her chest. Her hands clenched the soft fabric of her pillows, and the sound of hurried footsteps approached. Her father, his face etched with worry, burst into the room, his protective instinct driving him to her side.

With tear-streaked cheeks and trembling lips, (Name) found herself facing the weight of her father's gaze. She found herself blurting out the words that lingered on the tip of her tongue.

‘Papa, I think I love him.’ That’s what (Name) said to her father without a second thought. Her father’s eyes widened as his jaw hung open. Without a word, he swiftly departed from her room, his hurried footsteps echoing down the corridor. Fortunately, Alastor was already around the corner and out of her father’s view. As he returned, he told her to get some sleep and left a kiss on her forehead.

“I only wish it wasn’t true,” If she didn’t love him she wouldn’t be in this position. Perhaps, a loveless marriage would’ve been better.

What (Name) would give to return back the clock and return to the days when she was able to meet him. Do things over with the knowledge she already has. Make some terrible decisions and fall into hell with him.

“I wish I could forget - Wish that we’d never met.”

It hurts, everything hurts. Looking back at a past that didn’t matter. How the start of everything seemed so perfect. The small interactions at the bar and the drunken walks back home always coming back without his name. If only she knew that everything would end up like this, maybe she’d rethink her choices.

“Inside my heart, I know - Eternal Snow.” How she wanted to see him as opened her eyes and glanced up at the ceiling.

She was unfortunately still back in the empty lobby without their guest anywhere to be seen. It was probably for the best, she wasn’t in the best headspace to interact with anyone.

“Do you know, you’re still in my dreams?” He really was, her every thought was consumed by him as he became her strength to survive in heaven.

As (Name) pulled herself up, her movements felt heavy, burdened by the weight of her emotions. Her feet dragged across the floor, reluctant to carry her forward. She watched the sinners walk by as she hid herself in the dark nook. “How much longer till you let me sleep?” (Name) searched for Alastor in every person who walked by and he never did.

“One day, I pray that it might.” (Name) tore herself from the window and returned to her seat. She was being stupid and this whole thing was idiotic. “Just take one candle’s flame.”

(Name)'s voice faltered as the door creaked open, a shaft of light piercing the darkness of her solitude. With a sudden sense of unease, she fell silent, her song dissipating into the quiet of the room like wisps of smoke. A blonde girl peaked her head and quickly looked around the dark room.

She hesitantly walked in she looked around like she just entered a haunted house as she muttered something under her breath. There was a certain warmth in the girl’s demeanor as she cautiously approached the front desk.

(Name)'s voice, though gentle, seemed to startle the girl as she jumped slightly. ”You look lost, honey.” As Charlie's head snapped in her direction, (Name) couldn't help but notice the flicker of nervousness across her expression.

The girl explained with a lightness in her voice that carried a hint of nervousness. “My dad asked me to come to this meeting for him.” She had a voice that was filled with sugar and everything nice and that was (Name)’s signal that this wasn’t going to go well.

(Name) couldn't help but feel a tinge of surprise. "Oh," She responded, there was a moment before she continued. “You're the Morningstar's daughter?" (Name) tried to dig for any mentions of the girl’s name during her time in heaven.

The blonde girl, with an upbeat attitude that bordered on naivety, confirmed her identity with a bright affirmation. "Right. I’m Charlie!" she exclaimed, as if her name carried a contagious enthusiasm that lit up the room.

“(Name).” Her introduction carried a tone of measured formality, a stark contrast to Charlie's effervescent enthusiasm. “I’ll be taking care of you during your meeting with heaven.”

As she extended her hand in greeting, (Name)'s gaze lingered briefly on the dried blood that marred her skin—from all the sinners killed an hour earlier. (Name) felt a pang of unease, a discomfort born from the knowledge that she stood before a princess. Not that Charlie carried an air of royalty, but she didn’t want to be rude to the girl. It just didn't feel right to shake Charlie's hand with blood-stained fingers

"I apologize for my appearance," (Name) apologized as she tried to wipe her hands on her dress. "I didn't have time to clean off the blood."

“Oh! Righttt, that’s okay. Don’t be so formal.” Charlie seemed like a really sweet girl and she couldn’t worry that Adam would be a complete mockery of her.

“Understood.” (Name) couldn’t follow that request. “As you’re here early, is there anything you want to run by me?”

“Oh! There’s a proposal I’ve been working on!” Charlie whipped out a thick stack of papers full of drawings. They were colorful and all drawn with crayons.

(Name) could feel a nervous sweat go down her face. Charlie was going to be laughed out of the room for sure. “Let’s hear it.”

“I know Hell's population is out of control. It's a bad situation, it's taking a toll. If we rehab these sinners,” Charlie spoke quickly and in one breath. She took another deep breath and continued. “Extermination, I know you guys fly down just to kill once a year.” (Name)’s shoulders dropped and her hope for a good meeting going well went out the window.

“Charlie.” (Name) tried to stop her, she was too pure for this. Adam was going to spit and laugh at her efforts.

Charlie didn’t stop, she was too focused on explaining her proposal. “And it must be annoying to schlep all the way here. If they join you in Heaven, that trip disappears!”

“Charlie, you're going to be laughed out of that meeting," (Name)'s voice, tinged with a hint of concern. (Name) wanted to think her pure intentions would work.

"They'll listen to what I have to say," Charlie's response, though laced with unwavering determination, did little to assuage (Name)'s fears.

"You don't understand. You're having a meeting with Adam, and he will chew and spit all over your proposal,"

"That's alright! You're not the only one who's told me that," Charlie's response, broke her heart. Charlie was just a kid, this shouldn’t have been something people should’ve told her.

"It's a lovely idea,"

"Thanks. Do you think it could work?" Charlie's question made her think if could work in practice. There was little she understood about souls or if souls could be redeemed.

"I don't know. I have no idea what the criteria would be. It's a nice thought," (Name)'s response, though tinged with uncertainty.

“I think it’s possible.” Charlie wasn’t going to drop her dream so easily as she signed her name into a floating scroll.

(Name) walked over to the elevator and motioned her inside. “Don’t be too upset.”

As the elevator ascended towards the awaiting offices where Adam and Lute awaited them, the weight of anticipation hung heavy in the air. (Name)'s parting words to Charlie echoed in the confines of the elevator, a gentle reminder that Charlie didn’t take.

(Name) opened the door for them and quickly stepped back outside the office as the doors slid open. “Maven! Get your ass back in here.” However, before she could retreat further, Adam's commanding voice called her back into the room.

“As you wish.” With a resigned sigh, (Name) acquiesced, her movements fluid as she leaned against the doorframe.

💟

Charlie’s meeting went poorly as (Name) warned her it would. The poor girl looked defeated as she received terrible news and one that would probably bring the death of thousands.

For (Name), the extermination coming early left a bittersweet taste in her mouth. On one hand, it meant she would have the opportunity to see Alastor again, a thought that brought her both comfort and dread.

Her heart went out to Charlie as she saw the expression on her face. It hurt to look at. How she hated that people like Charlie were her weakness. (Name) was an exorcist, there shouldn’t be any room for empathy. There should only be hatred for Charlie and her people. She should be laughing her out of the room and taunting her. That’s what Adam and Lute would be wanting her to do.

(Name) was silent until they reached the lobby and started walking her out. There was something that wanted to make Charlie at least leave with a smile on her face. She reminded her too much of her younger sister and her foolishly large dreams.

With a hint of nervousness, (Name) bit the inside of her cheek to cast them aside. “I believe that the words that he told you are not your grave.” Her voice was soft, slightly above a whisper.

"He didn't even listen to me," Charlie responded with frustration laced in her every word. “There’s nothing I can do if Heaven doesn’t listen.”

(Name) stopped walking and patted one of the seats nearby. “And I believe that you can make them listen.” As hopeless as Charlie’s situation was, there was something that could still be taken out of this. “Darkness reminds us where light can be.”

Charlie, though wearied, managed a smile as she took a seat, the weight of disappointment evident in her posture. "I couldn't protect them."

"I have been where you are before," (Name) was in her shoes back when she first started as an exorcist. She knew how it felt, feeling like you couldn’t save anyone. When you had absolutely no power to change another's fate.

Despite the stains on her hands, she took Charlie's hand into her own. "Do you believe they can be redeemed?"

"Of course! More than anything, they're good people deep, deep down, "

“Then, even all the cruelest sinners can start again.”

"Thanks for believing in me," Charlie expressed her gratitude with a tight squeeze, a gesture that resonated with an unexpected warmth.

(Name), frozen in surprise, couldn't pinpoint the source of the sudden change in her demeanor. She waved her out of the building and collapsed back into the seat.

“Charlie. I hope your idea works.” She muttered to herself.

💟

Upon her return to heaven, (Name) was faced with the imposing presence of Adam and Lute. The sight of them waiting for her sent a ripple of dread down her spine. As Adam flung an arm around her shoulder, pulling her uncomfortably close, (Name)'s senses bristled with discomfort. The proximity of his touch, coupled with the weight of his presence, felt suffocating.

"We have a gift for you, Maven," Adam announced with a grin with Lute by his side.

“What sort of gift?” The uncertainty of what awaited her fueled the knot of anxiety that coiled in her stomach. It made her want to throw up.

"Since the extermination is coming early," Adam seemed awfully proud of himself as he spoke, his words dripping with ominous intent, "It's time for a little upgrade."

Forcing herself out of his grip and retreated back several steps. “I haven’t done anything to deserve any gifts.”

"Yeah? I saw you getting awfully cozy with Lucifer's brat," Adam spat in disgust, his disdain evident. "You don't think her lame-ass idea will actually work."

“It could. We have no proof against it.”

"Maven, you're speaking like a little traitor," Lute interjected, her anger simmering beneath the surface like a dormant volcano on the verge of eruption.

"Think about it, Maven. If you get sent down there and her little idea works," Adam's voice cut through the tension like a blade, his words laden with a veiled threat that sent a shiver down her spine.

"What are you trying to say, Adam?" The implications were clear as day and she didn’t want them to be spoken into reality.

"What if your man gets redeemed," Adam's words pierced her heart, the man was picking at low-hanging fruit. (Name)'s expression hardened, as her hands twitched to beat his sorry ass into next week. "Using your logic, there's no proof that fallen bitches can too."

The venom in his words ignited a firestorm of emotion within her, and (Name) couldn't help but snap back. “Are you being fucking serious?"

“Watch your tone.”

"Time you make your choice, bitch," Adam's ultimatum hung in the air as his hand was stretched out for her to grasp.

(Name) glared at his outstretched hand, her frustration boiling beneath the surface as she reluctantly accepted it. "Fuck you, Adam," She spat. What she would give to bury him in a thick layer of dirt.

Adam's grin widened as his grip tightened around her hand, his condescending tone cutting through the air. "Good girl," His words dripped with patronizing satisfaction.

The soft shade of golden light enveloped her body as the blessing coursed through her veins, igniting her vocal cords with a fiery sensation. Though the blessings were never physically painful, the internal panic they stirred was undeniable. It was her first blessing since her encounter with Alastor, and his influence on her loyalty was becoming increasingly evident.

Adam's eyes widened with a twisted pleasure as (Name) fell to her knees, grasping at her chest in agony. “Hurt’s doesn’t, Maven?” He cooed.

"What did you do?" she spat out through painful gasps of air, her voice straining with every word she spoke.

"Can't you see a blessing when you see one?" Lute asked coldly as she delivered a kick that sent (Name) sprawling. "If heaven’s light is hurting you, what do you think is happening?"

(Name) pushed herself off the floor, sending Lute a glare that matched the intensity of her pain. “Am I being rejected by heaven?”

“Ding ding, we have a winner!” Adam mocked with his signature finger guns pointed her way.

(Name) rushed to the closest mirror and examined her halo. There, amidst the ring of pure ivory, was the faintest red glow. “No, no, no.” Her fingers clenched around her halo as she desperately prayed away the blight.

“Remember what side you’re on, Maven.”

“What side are you on?” Lute's question pierced through the chaos, dragging (Name) away from the mirror and forcing her back.

(Name) remained silent for a long while, her mind swirling with her options. If Alastor sought redemption and achieved it. He would return to heaven, and their reunion would be glorious. However, if she succumbed to becoming a fallen angel and Alastor found redemption, they would be back at square one, torn apart once again. There seemed to be no clear option, no path forward that guaranteed their happiness — But, one.

“Heaven’s. Now and forever.”

(Name) couldn't escape the weight of her own self-doubt. She berated herself for her tendency to bend to every hint of a problem, for her inability to stand firm in her convictions. The conversation with Charlie echoed in her mind, her words of encouragement now haunting her as evidence of her own hypocrisy. Despite urging Charlie to believe in the possibility of redeeming sinners, (Name) couldn't help but feel like a fraud, unable to practice what she preached.

“What sort of blessing did you give me?” (Name) asked from the pits of her self-hatred.

Adam glanced back with a scoff. "Wouldn’t you like to know," His words dripped with disdain and a hint of sadistic pleasure.

With that, they both left and left her there. As they faded from her sight (Name) returned back to her room. (Name)'s room became a chamber of her turmoil. With a surge of pent-up emotions, she hurled her vase across the room, the sound of shattering pottery echoing back in her ears. Collapsing against the door, she sank to the floor, tears streaming down her face as she surrendered to the weight of her despair, her cries muffled by the fabric of her knees.

💟

Months passed as word reached (Name)’s ears about Charlie’s visit to Heaven. Even as Lute and Adam’s shadow, she did her best to avoid her. Mostly because she didn’t want to be forced into bullying her. She was here for important business, not Adam and Lute’s antics.

Unfortunately for Charlie, the extermination wasn’t called off. But, she did reveal the truth to Heaven’s Court. Which was enough of a win as they were all arrogant to the truth. Of course, (Name) was there during that meeting. She was back by the door leaning on the wall and prayed that she could go back to her room.

(Name) was in the worst of moods up until the extermination. She had spent most of her time in confessional or praying her sins away. Trying to rid herself of her blight and unfortunately for her — the red slowly spread. The crimson hue reminded her of the blood on her hands and she wanted to vomit.

The hype around this extermination was grand as Adam made a declaration to Charlie that their extermination would go after her hotel first. While she had been tasked with haunting children before, it had always been under orders, and she had never known them personally. However, meeting Charlie changed things; she recognized more goodness in Charlie than in Adam and Lute combined. Having to strike her down made her sick to her stomach.

Her hotel had its merits too. If sinners could find redemption there, families wouldn't have to endure the agony of separation. People would have the opportunity for second chances, the chance to make better choices. Better choices weren't something she could have. She had made her choice and had to lay with them now.

Breaking down Charlie's hotel meant shattering not just the physical structure but also the dream that accompanied it. The work wouldn’t be something that wouldn’t linger in her consciousness. It had personal stakes for her too. Extinguishing Charlie’s hope came at the cost of her own hope. With Charlie and her hotel gone, Alastor wouldn’t ever come to heaven.

It absolutely broke her. However, Alastor wouldn’t willingly work with someone like Charlie. Heavens, she didn’t know if they even knew each other. Which was the only hope she had left as she prayed for him to survive.

“Are you ready yet?” Lute asked from the other side of the changing room door.

(Name) took one last look at her clothing and exuded an air of mourning. The long black dress, with its multiple layers of fabric, draped fluidly, creating an ethereal silhouette. Her hands were adorned with delicate black lace gloves. They matched the veil that she threw over her face.

The absence of armor, even chainmail, spoke volumes about her intent. This was a slaughter, not something that should be celebrated. If she was lucky and Charlie did put up a fight. She’d do her a favor and put her out of her misery.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” (Name) tone was one of defeat as she grabbed her ivory halberd.

“That’s a good look on you, Maven.” Lute’s compliment seemed more like a taunt than anything genuine.

"I don't want to hear your compliments, Lute," (Name) retorted, her voice devoid of any emotion as she brushed past her and returned to Adam's side.

They arrived just in time to catch the last of his fiery speech. "Let’s fucking kill that brat!" His voice thundered, resonating with aggression and malice as the familiar portal ripped open.

💟

On Adam’s signal, everyone dove into Hell’s skies, they found themselves in front of Charlie’s grand hotel. Her eyes looked over the soon-to-be battlefield, catching sight of a very familiar face grinning up at them from the roof of the hotel. It was Alastor, standing tall and proud, with a devilish smile playing on his lips. Her heart dropped, Alastor was working with Charlie.

She would have to cut him down.

(Name)'s weapon fell loose in her grip as she flew next to Adam. “Alastor?” she mumbled, her voice barely audible over the rushing wind. Adam grabbed her arm and shoved her forward.

“Fucking sing, I don’t care who has your panties in a twist. You better fucking sing like your life depends on it,” Adam barked.

(Name) looked back at Adam, then down at Alastor, shaking her head furiously. She looked like she was going to cry and she wanted to.

“No…I can’t. I can’t bring myself to hurt him,” (Name) tried to protest as Adam flew over to her. But her small act of defiance was met with brutality as Adam yanked her up by her hair, her fingers tightening around her halberd.

Alastor’s eyes narrowed as static filled the air. It was a warning of sorts, even if he was smiling he was about to beat Adam to a bloody pulp.

"What was that?" Adam's grip tightened on (Name)'s arm as she let out a small cry of pain.

(Name)'s voice was firm. “I said no, Adam.” Her eyes returned to Alastor who gave her a look asking if she wanted him to step in.

Adam's eyes narrowed as they followed her gaze, landing on Alastor who stood defiantly below them. "Oh, I'll just kill him first," Adam's words cut through the air like a blade, causing (Name)'s heart to plummet.

"Adam, please. Don't hurt him," (Name)'s plea was tinged with desperation, her voice quivering with fear at the thought of Alastor's demise.

“Then fucking sing," Adam's commanded.

(Name) had no choice but to listen. Her wings sliced through the air as she ascended higher into the sky. Her halberd remained held horizontally in her hands, she looked down at Alastor with an apologetic expression. In that fleeting moment, she saw his eyes narrow and his brows rise.

“A cowardly façade weaves into my voice.” Her words trembled with emotion as her body began to glow with a soft, golden hue. A shimmering shield materialized around her, encircling her form like a protective barrier.

At the same time, Adam shot her a piercing glare, a silent demand for her to sing with conviction, a signal for the attack to start.

Her body began to glow brighter as she continued. “As I call for war, blinded by this far-fetched noble cause.” (Name) could only watch as her fellow exorcists charge towards the hotel as an eldritch shield appears to surround the hotel to cage the unlucky few who found themselves stuck inside.

She noticed how the exorcist’s bodies matched the same glow as hers, and her heart shattered. That was the power Adam gave her, as the occasional wound appeared on her body, as the exorcists obtained them as well. The wounds didn’t last long, but this was a double-edged sword.

“Although I had a choice, I believed the lies.”

Whatever that shield was that Alastor cast was horrific. Tentacles sprouted forth and waved them without rhyme or reason. Some even held angelic weapons as they swung wildly, their range was insane as they cleaved through the sky.

“But it's all a dream, ending when I open up my eyes.”

She really wanted to know what this blessing was as her blood poured from a large gash down her arm. This was a little extreme even for Adam. Even if she wasn’t the one experiencing the injury, she could feel it and had to sing through her pain.

Her voice flattered as she watched her blood drip into the ground below. “I tried to survive by putting all my faith in instinct,” Adam was going to have her killed here.

The tentacles lashed out with surprising strength, catching (Name) off guard and knocking her out of the air. She struggled against the grip, wielding her halberd to slice through the tentacle and break free. Alastor's shield proved formidable, repelling other angels who attempted to breach its defenses. She felt a hint of pride seeing her husband flaunting his power.

“I stand gazing down at death as they say...war.” She had to keep her distance from the shield as she ducked and weaved out of the tentacle's grip. It seemed like they were targeting her specifically and trying to get her out of the sky.

(Name) caught a glimpse of Alastor’s gaze following her as she dodged his attempts to grab her. “They say fight for peace... but what is that?”

“Raise a shield to the bullets, Hold my ground, all I got now.” She was getting dangerously close to the shield now as she saw the crowd of sinners protecting the hotel. Charlie was amongst them too.

They were fighting desperately to stay alive and fight off the angels. Much to her surprise, they were killing them too. “But I'm defenseless, all but helpless if it gives beneath my feet,”

Her song started to sound like a desperate scream for help. To end her suffering and finally put her to rest. (Name) couldn’t do this anymore as she tried to find Adam amongst the crowd of angels. She put her trust in him to keep his word, the chances of him keeping it were low. But, he just had to keep his word. Alastor’s life was on the line if he didn’t.

The searing pain in her abdomen drew (Name)'s attention downward, her fingers tracing the dark stain on her dress. With a trembling hand, she pressed against the wound, feeling the warmth of her own blood seep through her fingers. It was a rather crippling blow as she knew if she took another or tried to fight anyone in melee combat she’d die.

She just prayed she didn’t have to as she retreated to Adam’s side.

Lute was nowhere to be found. She was leading the initial charge before the shield went up and was probably trapped inside.

As Adam's rage echoed through the air, (Name) didn’t have the time to react. She watched helplessly as he hurled himself toward the eldritch shield with reckless abandon.

“I’m fucking over this!”

A banshee scream left her lips. “No!” As she watched the shield start to crack from the impact site and shatter into a million pieces before disappearing completely.

She flew after Adam ignoring the wound that dripped blood down on anyone below them. (Name)'s hand reached out with urgency, grasping Adam's wrist in a desperate attempt to halt his reckless advance towards Alastor. Despite the searing pain from her own wounds, she refused to let him hurt her husband.

“Adam , please .” (Name)'s voice quivered with desperation on the verge of being swallowed by betrayal. “You promised.”

“I didn’t promise jack shit .” Adam didn’t turn around; he kept flying down to the rooftop and left her there.

"You gave me your word!" She screamed, her halo pulsating with a deep crimson hue.

He wanted me to sing. I’ll give him a performance, he’ll never forget.

“I will rise in resistance,” As she clenched her hands down on her halberd the previous glow flickered from around the exorcists. “Sing the oath of rebellion. ” She flew high as she watched every shield and blessing she cast on the exorcists flicker and fade.

Adam's voice thundered across the battlefield, “Maven! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He roared as he felt her protection disappear.

All she responded with was a dark glare that said ‘fuck you, Adam. I hope you die’.

As Adam turned his back on Alastor and turned his anger towards her. A crimson barrier appeared around Charlie and her friends. “Wipe away the weakness,”

“You’re going to fall! Do you no longer give a shit about that?” Adam screamed as he shot beams of light at her.

(Name) dodged his attacks as she pointed her halberd at him. “Better than supporting a liar.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you!”

"You can try.”

(Name) knew it was only a matter of time until he caught up with her and followed through with his threat. All she could do now was support them the best she could until the light finally left her eyes.

“Will you let those scars define you?” Oh, how she knew this was a death wish. She could barely dodge out of the way from the beams coming at her in rapid succession.

Adam was right on her heels as she brought him skyward and away from Alastor. “I say, liar. I say rise in hell.” As the last note escaped her lips Adam grabbed her ankle and threw her down against the hotel roof.

A scream left her lips as her blood escaped her lips and was welcomed by Adam standing over her with his guitar ax raised high in the air. (Name)'s scream pierced the air as Adam's guitar ax loomed menacingly over her. Her gaze shifted to Alastor, who approached with growing antlers, a harbinger of impending danger. But before he could intervene, Adam's blade descended, slicing across her chest. The wound wasn't immediately fatal, but without treatment, she would bleed out with enough time.

“Just lay there and watch, bitch.”

Adam returned to the air as he stared at the demon before him as Alastor’s eyebrows furrowed with anger even with a smile plastered on his face.

“Adam, first man, next to die.” Alastor seemed angry and yet confident.

“Who the fuck are you?” Adam asked with a shit-eating grin on his face. He was getting cocky and (Name) hoped he could use it to his advantage.

The small bow he did was an unneeded flourish, but it did warm her heart slightly. “Alastor, a pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure. ” His grin increased as his gaze flickered back to her as she struggled to get up.

(Name) forced him a smile as blood poured out, by some sort of miracle her organs weren’t falling out.

“I’m about to end your fucking life.”

With electric currents of demonic magic, Alastor created tentacles from the ground. He looked absolutely terrifying, he didn’t look like her husband anymore with that look in his eye.

As she struggled to get off the ground their voices seemed to grow more distant. Adam seemed to have taken Alastor’s bait and was now charging into his attacks blindly. When Adam landed a missed blow that placed his feet on the rooftop and she knew Alastor could have a chance of winning.

Finally managing to pull herself off the floor enough to sit up though, it was probably pretty foolish as every cell in her body screamed in pain. It was like someone set fire to her nerves. She needed to get up and help him or he could actually die. Her husband was a smart man, but Adam had the strength advantage.

As the men danced around the rooftop as Alastor dodged and weaved from his attacks. Getting a hit in here or two using his shadows and familiars to annoy Adam to give him openings.

She wished she could actually see the fight and see Alastor wipe the floor with Adam in battle. But her vision was blurring as the world spun. She was getting closer to her death.

(Name) tried to grasp onto her halberd and use it to pull herself up. Just so she could do something to help.

“One day you will realize,” She could at least do this much, her voice didn’t project anything higher than a whisper. Nothing happened. She didn’t have enough strength to sing.

She had to keep trying, she needed to help him. (Name) needed to save Alastor. As her world blurred and crashed into one another. Her thoughts remained with him. She would give anything in the world to see him see another day.

My belle, my beautiful bride. Thank you for always staying with me. (Name) smiled at the memory of Alastor’s personal little vows to her. How she wished to spend more time with him.

There was a flash of light and Alastor was in front of her with his broken mic stand in his hands. He glanced down before Adam threw him next to her. (Name) pulled herself to his side and placed the weakest touch against his cheek.

“ I love you, my dearly beloved. ” Her smile was faint as she saw Adam’s shadow over them.

Give me strength. I don’t care if I die. Take the dying embers of my life if it means I can save him. I’ll give you everything I have. My soul, my memory, whatever you want. God, please. Help me. (Name) begged to whatever higher power to hear her. She wasn’t asking for much, just enough power or strength to save him.

“My Dearly Beloved,” Her voice rang out through the hotel as she pulled Alastor into her embrace. “Be strong, I shall be there.” Her voice was louder than she expected as she felt her soul burn from within her chest.

“You’re still not dead, bitch!” Adam groaned as (Name) gently leaned Alastor against the railing and forced her shaky legs up. He was clutching his chest, his wound was deep. But, it wouldn’t be fatal if he left now.

(Name) blocked Adam from reaching her dear husband. “Always here beside you,” Adam had his weapon raised and she didn’t back down. “So, keep your head held high.” (Name) glanced back at him with pleading eyes for him to flee.

The ax came down knocking her off her feet as her golden blood splashed all over Alastor’s face. She fell over top of him and tried to pull herself back to her knees. He wasn’t gone yet, she wouldn’t stay down until Alastor escaped.

She could barely speak as she smiled at the faintest crimson glow surrounding him into a warm embrace.

Adam’s ax found its target as it went through her stomach. “Will try to steal you away into their arms,” This was it, she was probably going to die. “But you belong in mine…”

As her words fizzled out so did her protection and she collapsed into his chest. The world was fading to black as Alastor held her close to him as she felt herself sinking into the depths.

Her last thoughts before she faded completely were the following.

I love you, Alastor.

I’m sorry, I couldn't get back to you sooner.

Don’t worry, my beloved. We’ll meet again.

That’s a promise.

Take care of yourself,

I’ll always be there with you in spirit.

Always next to your side,

You won’t ever be truly alone.

Keep smiling for me.

Thank you for reading this disaster. I might make it into a series, I've have been seriously thinking about it. Which is why it has an open ending. She could have died or she didn't. Who knows.

The songs are: Eternal Snow from Full Moon wo Sagashite ALIEz from Aldnoah Zero My Dearly beloved from Kingdom Hearts

#alastor x reader

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