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hellish-hyperfixation · 1 year

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deja brew | bang chan x male reader

genre: fluff

Chan's day was going poorly, no other way to put it. Luckily for him, fate was about to pull him back to the past in the best way possible.

requested

word count: 1.9k

a/n: there was hardly any mention of reader's gender (except for one explicit line), so this could mostly be read as gender neutral reader as well! I wasn't entirely sure what you (requester) meant by a soft reader, but I tried my best! hope you enjoy:)

reblogs and comments are always appreciated:)

It was turning out to be a pretty terrible day for Chan.

One of his newest projects got rejected by the company, he was scolded by Minho during dance practice, and he couldn’t seem to get any of his lines right during recording. The gym was full, so he couldn’t even let out his stress properly, and the dryer was broken, so his favorite hoodies were unavailable to wear. All in all, a day where nothing worked out, and a lot of small inconveniences built up.

He went to his favorite coffee shop not too far from the dorm, Deja Brew, just to clear his mind and cheer himself up. As he entered, the scent of sweet lattes and pastries filled his senses, only slightly, and the familiar whirr of the coffee machines and subtle chatter of patrons wafted through the air. There weren’t many people, which was his favorite part. The atmosphere of a coffee shop, accompanied by the sweet solace of privacy.

He received a piece of his favorite cake and a drink from the familiar barista that always seemed to be on the clock whenever he visited, and made his way over to a seat by a window tucked away near the back of the shop. Excitement began growing at even the thought of enjoying his treat when—

Splash.

Chan watched in horror as his drink spilled all over the stranger. His horror only intensified as he watched the lady’s expression morph from smug to irritated to angry in the span of a few seconds. He felt the yells before they left her lips, and when they actually landed on his ears, he felt a carnal desire to crawl up into a ball and sleep the entire day away in hopes that he would wake up and find it to be a nightmare.

“I’m so sorry, maam, it was an accident. I can provide you with compensation for your clothes, or—”

“I don’t want your filthy money! This is a luxury brand! I bet a commoner like you couldn’t even begin to imagine affording something like this!”

“Then how can I—”

“Maam, please, you’re causing a scene.”

A new voice joined the conversation. Chan turned to face the new person, internally screaming at the thought of having to deal with another stranger, but the agony faded when he was met with a familiar face.

Well, kind of familiar. You were older than the last time he saw you — just as he was — and you were… well, cute. You wore an evidently soft, somewhat bright sweater, and somehow managed to have a pleasant smile on your face as you dealt with the lady.

He wasn’t sure how you did it, but the lady eventually left, leaving the two of you alone in the middle of the coffee shop, standing in a puddle of fruity liquid.

Chan stared at you, starstruck, and you did the same. The silence was only broken by an employee coming by with a mop, asking the two of you to move so she could clean up the mess. You made your move then.

“Do you wanna come sit with me? Maybe catch up a little?”

And before he knew it, he was sitting across from you at a booth near the back of the coffee shop, sipping on a new drink and nibbling on a new slice of cake (that the barista insisted he get as compensation for the trouble).

“Are you alright?” You asked, startling Chan from his daze. He looked up at you, shocked at the concern in your expression.

“Oh— yeah, I’m fine. Just another Karen, right?” He laughed awkwardly, brushing off the interaction. You didn’t seem convinced, but let the topic go.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Nearly ten years now, I think.” You comment, drifting the conversation away from the incident. Chan internally thanked you for it.

“Man, ten years, huh? Been a crazy few, that’s for sure.” You smiled at him.

“Yeah, feels like it’s been forever if you ask me. How’s everything? How are you?”

“Pretty good! I mean, it’s been a tough few years but it was worth it, y’know? Becoming a producer and the leader of a K-pop group. It’s all I ever dreamed of.”

“No kidding! You’re the topic back in Sydney. Nobody believed it when they saw you on the telly, and I was telling everybody, ‘that’s my best friend!” You chuckled, thinking back at the memories, and Chan did too, imagining the scenario unfolding.

He considered it for a moment. Life back in Australia. He thought back to his old friends and living with his family, fiddling away on the guitar whenever he got the chance. Being a kid, carefree and oblivious to the difficulties to come. Spending time with you at school during lunch times or recess, making memories he didn’t realize would fade over time. He missed it.

“I miss it too, sometimes.” You say, pulling Chan out of his thoughts. Had he said that out loud?

Before he could reply, you continued.

“But I wouldn’t change it for a second. I’m proud of you, Chris. Really. I know we haven’t kept in touch since you left, but I’ve been rooting for you all this time, and seeing you be so successful is more gratifying than you could imagine.”

When Chan looked at you, he felt his heart clench at the endearment and adoration he found. The warm overhead light cast down on you, creating the illusion of a glow around your sweater and your hair. The hustle and bustle of the cafe seemed to die down as he focused his attention onto you, and it made him feel like it was just the two of you in the world. A little pocket of memories and warmth. He nearly missed your next words, having gotten caught in the moment.

“You could say I’m your biggest fan.”

The sounds of the world seemed to seep back into his perception at that, and he managed a small laugh.

“Maybe you could be more?” He questioned. At your confusion, he leaned over the table and reached for your phone, stopping at the lock screen.

He raised an eyebrow, silently asking for the password, and you smirked in response.

“I’m pretty sure you could guess it.”

No way…

He input the numbers 31097 and, lo and behold, it opened.

“Really? You remembered?” He asked, incredulous.

Before he left for Korea, you and he had made a promise that, when you got your cell phones, you’d set the password as the other’s birthday. It was ages ago, and although Chan kept his promise, he wasn’t sure if you would.

“Of course I did. Besides, it’s a pretty solid password, isn’t it? If I ever forget it, it’s just a google search away!” Chan huffed in amusement, a part of himself relieved that you held up your half of the agreement even after all these years.

“What are you doing with my phone, anyways? You better not be poking around in there.” You joked, and Chan rolled his eyes. The banter came as naturally as the day he left. Without a word, he opened up contacts to put his number in. He took a quick selfie for the profile picture and slid your phone back to you.

“You should be honored! It’s not every day my biggest fan gets my number.” He then opened his phone and slid it over to you, a silent invitation to do the same.

“Just Chris? A bit boring, isn’t it?” You teased, picking up his phone to put your number in.

“Oi, don’t judge! I don’t share my number often these days, I’m outta practice!” He exclaimed in mock offense, taking his phone back.

“It’s not like you did much–” He trailed off as he looked down at your contact name.

Your Number One Fan<3

The heart did inexplicable things to his own. He filed it into the back of his mind to inspect later.

“Much better. Now we’re matching!” You turn your own phone to show him the screen, and the change made him nearly concerned at how much his heart was moving around that day.

Chris<3

“Yeah, matching…”

From there, the conversation flowed naturally between topics. The two of you talked for hours about anything. What it was like for Chan to produce music, respective memories that were created during the time you lost contact, reminiscing about the past. Before long, the window at your seat grew cold as the sky faded to black, and the barista came by to inform the two of you that the cafe would be closing soon.

The two of you stepped out into the evening air, hesitant to say your goodbyes, but knowing it was inevitable. You walked in silence in no particular direction, just enjoying each others’ company for as long as you could. It was as though the moment existed in a bubble outside of time, and to address its existence was to pop it.

Somehow, a few minutes in, Chan ended up leading you a few blocks away from the dorm, and he knew it was time.

“I’m going this way… ‘bout you?” He looked at you hesitantly, as though afraid of the answer. You pointed your thumb towards the way you just came. A direct opposite to the dorm. Chan sighed.

“Keep in touch, yeah? Can’t promise that I’ll answer right away, but…” He felt his eyes sting just slightly. He blamed it on the nonexistent wind.

“I don’t want to lose you again.”

Even as he said it, he kept a pained smile plastered on his face, and it tore your heart apart just a little bit.

“You won’t. You gave me your number, remember? You’re stuck with me now.” You hit his shoulder playfully, and soft laughter filled the air.

“Good, good. I’m counting on it.”

Silence filled the air once more, this time somber. This was it.

Chan knew he had more to say. He knew there was something unspoken, and he wanted to make it heard, and he knew this was likely the only chance in a while to do so.

“I—”

Before he could speak, he was cut off by a sudden weight on his torso. You surged forward and captured him in a hug, wrapping your arms around him and holding him just tight enough for him to know. It wasn’t over. You were there, and you would continue to be there, even if not physically.

Chan responded by holding you back.

A sense of deja vu washed over him. He was sent back to the airport, young and teary eyed and holding you like you were the only thing keeping him on the surface of the Earth. The announcement that he had to board booming through the airport and resonating through his skull. You pulled away, also crying, but smiling like the angel he always saw you as.

“See you later, alligator” you nearly sobbed out, failing to keep in the tears and the snot. It made Chan cry more.

“See you soon, raccoon” and he was taken away to the plane, from his home, and from you.

If only your younger selves knew how untrue the farewell was. The moment felt so far away now.

You pulled away before he could get too immersed in the past, and it was as though the brightness of your smile transcended time.

“See you later, alligator.”

He remembers.

“See you soon, raccoon.”

Chan watched as you turned and walked away without so much as a glance back. It looked like goodbye, but he knew. He would be seeing you again soon.

once again, reblogs and comments are appreciated:)

#bang chan x male reader #kpop x male reader #stray kids x male reader #x male reader #bang chan fanfic

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beskarinhyperspace · 1 year

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A Ripple In Space

I just want to know you more.

More Chapters | MASTERLIST

4. Viper

*Mature, Explicit, NSFW*

Kylo Ren x fem.reader

WC 6k *Canon Divergence, angst, slow burn, soft dom, hurt/comfort

As you softly open your eyes to the low humming of the ship. You move your hand to the rest of the empty mattress. Realizing that you are indeed alone. Fully opening them, you quickly start to remember where you were.

Oh maker, I'm in his room..

Now fully awake at the realization, you slowly remember the previous night, having a hard time processing it. Your chest was suddenly moving quicker, knowing how much of a traitor this was making you. You were an ally to the jedis and to the resistance. Just like your parents were before you and you just slept with Kylo fucking Ren.. As you pass your hands in your hair trying to recollect yourself, you let out a deep sigh. You had just woken up and were already feeling drained.

You finally calmed down and glanced at his empty pillow. Which gave you an instant pinch in your chest, and just like that, you can't stop your mind from going back to his soft and plumped lips. Twitching as he was moving closer. His eyes, deeply looking at you with desire. How could someone be so violent and yet this gentle? Thinking back on how the rage was consuming him as he previously choked the guard. The horror you felt seeing him igniting the red beam of his sword. The one that brought so much destruction and fear across the galaxy.

It doesn't take long for you to hear your stomach growl. Finally getting up and out of the bed, you move slowly to the kitchen. Living life on a ship was truly a different experience than the one you had on land. You miss the warmth of the sun on your bare legs in the morning. Sunbathing on the balcony with your caf in hand. Here, the air is recycled and for some reason it is always cold. To be completely honest with yourself, the dark colors of the ship gave you more goosebumps than the cold air.

As you’re making some eggs on the stove behind the counter, you hear the swooshing sound of the front door opening.

Maker he's already back. You tell yourself, not being mentally prepared to face him again. You can feel your heart beating faster as the heavy steps are coming closer to the kitchen. You see a man turning the corner with a small cart. Giving you a wave of instant relief. He was tall, with dark hair and defined features. He was not only wearing the ship’s uniform. He also had the official cap and badges completing the ensemble. You stood there like a deer caught in headlights, hair all over the place with a spatula in hand. Trying to cover your thighs as much as you can with the oversize tee you're wearing. Even behind the counter, you still felt naked.

“Oh, I am sorry miss. I didn’t.. It's usually empty. I’m simply the cleani.. I can come back later.”

You couldn't help but smile timidly at his anxious avoidance. ´He looks really cute’, telling yourself as you're trying to focus. “It’s okay. I’m actually new here, kind of.. You can carry on, I was going out anyway.”

The man takes a moment, staring at you as you return to your cooking. After a moment you peek at him through the fallen hair hiding parts of your face. “Yes?”

He clears his throat, “Isn’t it a bit late to be going to work? The day shift has already started.”

You give him a smile before replying, “I don’t have a job, yet. Like I said, I am quite new here..”

“Right, sorry for my intrusion.”

“Don't mind it. I enjoy your company. It has been weeks since I've talked to an actual human being and not guards or droids.” rolling your eyes sideways.

He walks closer to the kitchen island. “Well, I’m Henry. Nice to meet you.” Smiling as he shows you his hand to shake.

“You can call me Viper..” moving slightly forward to shake it with yours.

“Cool, well.. I better start if I want to live for the next 24 hours.” He breathes out as he's going through his cleaning supplies.

“Do you know where I can find work?”

He looks at you before answering, “Well I heard they need help in electric. Wiring, to be precise. I can give a word for you if it’s somethi-”

“Yes! Please, I would really appreciate it.” cutting him off as you smile brightly.

In the meantime, Kylo Ren was sitting in his office with his chair turned and facing the window. The light coming from it was softly hitting half of his face and body as he was watching the calm darkness of space. He had woken up early, not being capable of keeping himself asleep while being so close to you. He didn't want to leave the ship for duties just yet. Even though he knew absolutely nothing about you, no amount of time was enough with you. He was tested by his curiosity and now, you were all he could think about.

I can’t keep losing control like this, trying to remind himself. He lets out a deep sigh as he rises from his chair, putting his helmet on. I’m going to be gone for a couple of weeks. That should be enough to forget about her, right? ..And her, me.

As he’s moving through the hallways, he hears a familiar voice nearby. He halts, moving his body to the corner of the wall while listening closely.

“Thank you for helping me clean the place that was nice of you.” A man says.

“I told you; I enjoyed it..” The familiar voice responds gently.

Laughing, “You must be the only one I know who does. See you around, Viper..” As he moves away, you smile shyly to the back of him, pressing your lips together.

A pinch in his chest makes Kylo step behind you quickly, “making friends I see.” Your blood runs cold as you hear the static of his modulated voice. He was hovering you with his height. Looking as intimidating as the day you first saw him. His mask analyzes you as you try to keep control of yourself. You haven’t done anything wrong but somehow it felt like you did. Seeing you avoidant and playing with your shirt, makes him mad. He starts pushing you back into the wall behind you. Giving you no other choice than to fall into it. By default, you try to take as little space as you can manage between his broad arms placed on each side of your head. He had his way of making you feel small and today was no exception. “Unless he’s more than a friend..” Suggesting as he tilts his head to the side.

“No, I was simply helping him with his tasks I swear.” answering while staring at your feet. “I don't even know him. I just met him.”

He takes a harsh breath before removing his helmet with one hand, “look at me.” But you were too scared to look. Only give him a quick glance before returning your gaze down. “I said look at me, Viper..” Saying your name in a low, firm tone. You swallow, looking up to meet his eyes properly. They were small and dark from stress and lack of sleep. His plump lips twitching as he was staring at yours. “Viper, I have to say, it suits you well.” saying softly. “Now how does one acquire a name like that?”

“My father gave it to me before he passed.” You say, trying your best to keep your voice steady. You didn't want to lie, but you don't want to tell the whole truth either.

“What about the boy, mh?.. I thought we were going to be honest with one another.”

“I met him this morning, I swear nothing happened.” you protest.

He scowls, “well you knew nothing of me..” stating as he takes his hand to cover the side of your head before closing his eyes. As he focuses you feel the same aura and feeling you sensed while he was thrusting inside you the previous night. The white and warm light radiating around him. He was searching your mind as you randomly see memories coming to you quickly. Starting to breathe faster, you feel a drop of sweat tickling the edge of your hairline. You try to fight the invasion as much as you can, but it stops on a memory you formed this very morning. The one blushing as you saw Henry in your oversize tee. Trying to stretch the fabric down to cover your legs. Suddenly, Kylo pushes himself back, as he watches you fall on your knees.

“You were almost naked.” he urges, his voice becoming dangerous. “What happened!?”

“You saw what happened, why are you asking me?” saying while calming yourself down.

“I want to hear it from you.”

You peek at him through your fallen hair in disbelief. “He came in to clean your quarters. At first, I thought it was you. I was cooking, I thought I was alone. He presented himself and that's it. We talked about a jo-”

“The desire..” he says angrily.

Okay now you were extremely confused. “Desire? What desire?”

Trying to make sense of what just happened, He takes a moment before speaking. He was used to entering people’s minds and even controlling them, but this felt weird, even for him. He was able to feel your emotions like they were his. Something he had never experienced before, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to after this. “The one you have for him.” eyes daring you to say otherwise.

Your lips parted as you were slowly panicking. “I-I just find him cute. That’s all, I swear.”

His hand twitched as he was looking deeply into your eyes, searching for the truth. He could see how frightened you were but also how sincere. He knew he couldn't fight it as he came back to you slowly. Bending slightly, he takes your hands and uses them to pull you back on your feet. He gently pushes the hair out of your face with the back of his fingers before passing his thumb over your lips. Staring at them, he slides his hand to grab the side of your jaw. “I have to leave for a short while, but I trust you will follow our agreement.” Seeing him clench his teeth before looking into your eyes. Fighting the urge to taste you on his lips. “You must sleep in my quarters. That is the only place I know you will be-”

“Safe, I know. Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl.” stating as you smile.

“It’s not you I'm afraid of.” he grimaced, “promise me.”

“I promise” you confirm before letting out a deep sigh.

Without a word, he puts his helmet back on and turns away.

What did I get myself into?

Weeks have gone by without any news of Kylo Ren. While the crew was more relaxed and carefree, you were learning your new job stress free. Thanks to Henry’s recommendation, you were now fully working in electrical. In fact, you were already being left alone to fix some bad wiring that was previously done by a guy who allegedly died in battle. If you were completely honest with yourself, he didn’t seem to have a clue about what he was doing. It was all a mess; everything was badly connected while other pieces were simply missing. You let out a bored moan as you lay back into the corner of the tight space. Sliding down along the wall before sitting on the floor.

You felt quite lonely on the ship. No one was really chatting with you since you were sleeping in the supreme leader’s quarters. They weren't particularly mean to you, but gossip was spreading quickly among the crew. The only friend you had was Henry and sadly, your schedules were not working in your favor. Kylo was gone for a while now and you still didn't know what you felt about him since your last encounter.

He's a horrible man. He brought way too much destruction to the galaxy for me to fraternize with him, I just can't.

As you examine the back of your hands placed on your knees, you remembered your last night with him. The one you have been trying for weeks to forget. His touch, his smell intoxicating you. You knew you wanted all of those again and that alone was terrifying you.

While being lost in your thoughts, you're toying with the bracelet your sister had made you back home. Smiling to yourself, you can’t help but wonder what she would think of you if she knew you slept with literally the worst person in the galaxy and still wanted more. While rolling the threads in between your fingers, you think back to Kylo and the way he said your name, Viper.. Since your parent’s death no one has ever called you by your real name, not even your sister. They were the ones who gave it to you after a successful mission destroying one of the first order’s bases. Along with your successful mission, your codename had become your identity.

Oh maker, it’s today..

The day was a long one for Kylo. His only desire for weeks was to come back to the finalizer knowing you'd be there. He couldn’t wait to finally get back on his ship. He very much regretted not kissing you goodbye. You've been haunting his dreams with the smell of your hair and soft skin ever since he left. He was still trying to figure out how your connection worked. How he was able to finally see a little more in your head but also feel you the way he did. As much as he wanted not to, he quickly realized that keeping himself away from you was not the right approach. His emotions were controlling him further each day and it scared the shit out of him.

For now, he was simply excited to see you as he moves inside his quarters. Although, the smile behind his mask quickly vanished as he glanced around the empty space. His assistant had previously confirmed that you would be here and yet you were not. Even if he wasn’t on the finalizer, he kept an eye on you. He had heard about your new job and schedule, and knew you're supposed to be done by now. He calls to double check in the electrical but apparently no one has seen you for hours. His mind draws him back quickly to the boy he saw you talking to. What if she had moved on? Did she use me? Maybe I scared her too much before leaving? What if she had escaped?

His fears were getting the best of him as he pushed the side of his comm-link angrily, “Find her” ordering, swirling back into the hallway.

After almost an hour of searching, a soldier comes to him. “We have found no trace of the women, Sir.”

He sighs, “what about the tie fighters?”

“We have stopped the departures. We also have the right numbers in inventory. No anomalies have been reported with the ones who did leave earlier today, Sir.” the men stated.

“This means she's still on board.” Getting angrier thinking of the memory he read out of you before leaving. The way you felt seeing that boy, the desire. “You don’t stop until you find her.” Commanding him as his fingernails were digging into the leather of his gloved palms.

The trooper nods before turning away quickly to inform the others. Meanwhile, Kylo was trying to calm himself down, but it was useless. He could visualize you kissing the boy like you kissed him. Giving yourself the way, you did with him. He did not know much about you; he didn't know how much he could trust you.

As he's spiraling, he feels a soft breeze on his skin. Which is odd since he is covered from head to toe with fabric. The goosebumps were going right up the nape of his neck. Without hesitation he starts following the energy that is pulling him. The sensation felt cold and blue the closer he got to it. After a moment, he finally stops in front of a closet door with a hand going to his hip. Unaware of what's on the other side, he unclips his lightsaber before bracing himself in a combat position. He takes a deep breath in, moving his hand to the control panel on the side. The moment it opens, his gaze is automatically drawn to you, sitting on the floor. He slowly drops his arms as he watches you bring your red, puffy eyes to him. The rage that was boiling inside him, was now completely gone. You looked at him in shock, thinking you were going to die for a moment there. Still silent, he pulls his helmet off.

“You're back..” you say sniffling.

“What happened?” asking softly.

Instead of answering, you move your gaze down. Wrapping your arms around your legs and bringing them closer to your body.

“Did someone do something to you? Are you hurt?” tensing as he questioned.

You lightly shake your head, “no, it's just me. I remembered a bad day, a sad day.”

He presses his lips, unsure of what to do before entering the small, confined closet. His body quickly fills the tight space as he walks to you, squatting down to your level before he pushes the hair out of your face. “I can't help you if you don't tell me, hyal.”

You could see how genuine he was, but you didn't want to talk about it. You had tried your best over the years not to let it affect you, but it was almost impossible on days like this one.

“My parents..” you couldn't stop the tears from falling down your cheeks, your voice still full of emotions. “They died on this day. I just miss them so much and I feel so alone.”

He takes a moment looking at you, “I'm sorry for your parents.” Pushing the hair out of your face, “but you're not, you're not alone.”

You dry your eyes with the back of your sleeve, trying to smile.

He lets you take a moment to come back to yourself before pressing the side of his comm-link on his wrist. “I found her, you can stop the search. I’ll take it from here.”

He lets out a sigh looking straight at you. “Are you ready to go?”

You nod as he helps you get back on your feet. “What did you mean by stop the search?”

“You're a difficult one to find” he says, giving you a soft smirk.

As you enter his quarters, you realize that he didn’t put his helmet back on. Noticing his eyes with better lighting. They looked more tired than usual. He quickly glanced at you before moving towards the bathroom. “I need to take a shower, I'll be back.”

Being finally alone again, you remain unmoved. Closing your eyes in an attempt to re-center yourself. Your reunion happened as weirdly as his departure. You didn’t want to talk to him about how they died or how he is part of the issue. By fear, you also did not want to mention how much you're missing your sister. The First Order was the reason of your parent's death and you promised yourself that it would never be hers. Although, some of you felt happy that Kylo was back. You just wished that he had found you in better circumstances.

What was he like before becoming Supreme Leader? Was he always in the First Order? Probably not, otherwise he wouldn’t be as gentle as he is with you, right?

While you were changing out of your work clothes, you couldn't help but smile softly thinking about him. You liked having him near you. Even though he made you feel a little anxious at times.

He came out of his shower already fully clothed. Catching him pass in front of the bedroom door, he was moving to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water from the sink.

You can't help but notice how imposing and stoic he looks even out of his combat clothes. The muscles of his chest and arms being noticeable through the fabric of his shirt. His hair, still damped from the shower, falls on his face as he turns the faucet off. Maker, am I blushing?

You sigh, climbing into bed before moving under the covers. As you make yourself comfortable, you see him pass through the door and coming to the edge of the bed to sit with you.

“How did it go while I was gone?” He asks before taking a sip from his cup.

“Did you not see me cry my eyes out?” replying sarcastically.

“I did, but surely you didn’t cry for weeks. Did you?”

��No, of course not. I worked, how about you?”

“Good, it was a long one.” looking briefly at you.

“Can I ask you something?” He doesn’t say a word as he waits for your question. “Are your parents still alive?”

He tenses up, turning his gaze down to the glass of water in his hand. “My mother.. but I don't know where she is.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. Is she not?” You didn’t know how to ask.

“In the First Order? No, no she's not.. ”

You press your lips, “Kylo? What does, hyal means?” you questioned closing your eyes, not being able to keep them open any longer.

He raises his eyes to you in surprise. “Why so many questions?” putting his glass of water on the nightstand before joining you under the covers.

“I just want to know you more..” mumbling, letting your mouth part slightly as you fall asleep.

He smiles softly, pushing the hair out your face. You were already breathing deeper while he looked at your pillowy lips. The ones he has been craving for weeks. He leans in, pressing them gently with his. Being careful not to disturb you in your sleep. He takes a deep breath in, “I also miss them, every day.” Before closing his eyes as well.

The next morning, you wake up to the sound of hot crinkling oil in a pan. As you sit up and rub your eyes, you hear Kylo let out a high muffled scream. You quickly pull away the covers before running to the kitchen, seeing him clenching his hand tightly.

“Are you okay?” voice panicked.

“It's okay, I just burned myself. You can go back to sleep.” trying not to sound in pain.

You walk to him, now fully awake. “Don't be stupid. How could I possibly go back to sleep knowing you're suffering. Can I have a look?” looking straight at him.

He hesitates, pressing his lips before opening his hand slowly to you. As you look closer to the injury, you examine the serious burn. A vivid red line was drawn across his palm. “Here put it under cold water. It will stop the heat from burning through the other layers of skin.” moving towards the kitchen faucet. “You need to always keep the handle away from the heat when cooking.” He puts his hand under the low pressured water. Slightly moaning as he feels an instant relief.

He raised an eyebrow as he watched you with a first aid kit. Putting it on the counter before starting the burner again. He stares at you confused, “Are you not going to help me?”

“You need to stop the burn before putting the bacta on. Otherwise, you'll only heal the top layers.” rolling your eyes at him.

He doesn't comment on your attitude as he smirks softly. Being kind of surprised at your knowledge of the matter. “And, how do you know all of this?”

Not responding, you give him a smile as he's watching you do his cooking. Admiring you from a distance. He noticed how nervous you were with him but, the truth is, he was too. You never really talked about what happened the night before he left, and he too wanted to know you more.

He clears his throat anxiously, “You know. The day I left you were talking to a man.”

“Henry?”

“I guess, yes. Have you, seen him again?”

Looking up to meet his eyes, “He’s only a friend, I told you.” closing the burner, you turn around. Grabbing the first aid kit as he turns off the faucet. Meanwhile, you took the bacta out of the metal box before spraying it on his wound. He grimaced while the bacta was already taking effect. As you his hand with some bandages, he can’t help himself from staring at you. Your hair was still all over the place from the chaotic morning. Strands falling down your face, some sticking up, but he couldn't care less. Suddenly a weird sensation comes to his chest as he pushes one of your hair strands to see your face better.

You meet his gaze smiling brightly, “Here, all done..”

He doesn’t waste a second, taking the side of your neck. Holding you still as he leans in closer, kissing you full lips.

You don’t stop him as he moans sweetly into your mouth. “You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do this..”

“Tell me more.”

He sighs softly, “I wanted to see you, smell you, touch you.” moving his hands gently to your middle back. “You're all I could think about.”

“I also thought about you every-” You didn’t have time to finish your sentence, that he starts kissing you again, caressing your tongue inside with his.

You laugh, stopping him. “I can’t, I have to work.” Protesting as you try to move away.

“Work? But I just came back. I can make you miss work if that’s the issue.” You don’t really listen to him as you’re now inside the bedroom, changing into your work clothes. “You seem to forget that I'm the supreme leader. This is my ship, and I can do whatever I want.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, I know..” You watch him come closer as you sit on the edge of the bed to put your boots on. He takes the other one from your hand before throwing it aside. “Hey, stop, I need to go. I'm going to be late.”

He's not listening as he kneels in front of you spreading your legs. “Stay with me hyal.”

“You still haven’t told me what it meant..” closing your eyes to his hands roaming your hips and ass.

You could feel his hardness on the edge of your pussy, “to crave.” answering you, slowly unzipping the front of your uniform.

Your heart beats faster but you try to stay on track. “What language is that? I never heard it.”

“Sith”

You stop him before he unzips it fully, managing to wiggle yourself free. “I really need to go. I can't be late.”

He watches you grab your boots from the floor, “Have I done something wrong again?” eyes worried.

As you look at Kylo, you feel heaviness in your chest “What? No..” moving quickly to the living room. “I just like seeing people and having somewhat of a normal life.” glancing at him awkwardly, “and I like the job, okay? I will see you later.”

Before you could leave, he grabs your arm. “I’m sorry that I cannot let you go, yet.. I also need to follow orders.” saying eyes in pain.

You simply nod, walking away to the entrance. Feeling an energy moving through your hair, you turn your head back. Only seeing the side of his face as he goes back to the bedroom.

You can hear your stomach calling for food entering the cafeteria. You felt bad lying to Kylo about being late, but you were not ready to sleep with him again. Hearing him speak Sith made uneasy. A reminder that you're just a prisoner on his ship. How many girls did he had this way? He probably lied to you about you being the only one. Surely that can't be true. He is one of the most powerful men in the galaxy, how could you possibly be his first taste of flesh?

It doesn't matter, because it won't happen again..

Taking a tray, you get in line. Today was your favorite; spinach quiche with ham bits. Plus, they always had these little roasted potatoes on the side that you love so much. You had to admit, the finalizer did have some good food. Way better than the sludge you used to eat in battle camps back home.

As you're waiting your turn, you sense a finger tapping your shoulder. Automatically you feel your body tense, scared to even look back. Turning around, you're being greeted by Henry. “It's been a while.” he says with a broad smile.

You don't know why, but you feel a little disappointed seeing him. You don’t know if it's because you haven't seen him for a while but he's making you blush a little. Maybe it was the way he looked so effortlessly put together. Whatever the reason, it felt good to see him again.

“It's you who has been hiding, I'm always near.” you state playfully.

“Yeah, I've been learning how to pilot on top of my usual job. It does take a lot of my time these days.”

Well, I'm happy that you're okay, I was starting to get worried.”

There's a moment of silence before he clears his throat. “Would you like to join us?” Pointing to a round table with two man and a woman also wearing the crew's uniform.

You nod while taking back your tray from the lunch guy’s hands. For weeks, you have been eating alone and so the invitation was a nice welcome, especially from him. As soon as you sat down, all eyes were on you, along with the tension floating in the air.

“Everyone, this is Viper. A friend of mine, she's in electrical.” Presenting you to the small group.

Immediately, the woman steps in. “The supreme leader’s favorite..”

“Did you say Viper?” One of the two men asks, cutting her off. Looking at Henry through his glasses, eyes wide open.

“Yes?” He replies raising his eyebrow in curiosity.

The bearded man leans forward to shake your hand. “It's truly an honor to meet you miss. I'm Jon. I was there, fighting by your side on N12.”

“I'm not sure I'm following” says the woman, tying her dark hair in a ponytail.

The man turns to her. “She’s on our side.” He looks around, “she destroyed 2 enemy bases.”

“Not here Jon” the other man says anxiously, “it's not safe..”

Henry turns to you quickly, “you never mentioned it before.”

“Well, we haven't been hanging out much either..” you mocked.

“Henry, you're making her uncomfortable.” Pulling her hair tighter.

He looks at her unfazed, “I'm the one making her uncomfortable?”

“Yes, I was just stating the facts. She is his favorite; otherwise, why would he keep her in his quarters mh?”

You can sense all eyes coming back on you. There's a part of you that wished she was right, but you knew that he had different motives. “He simply wants to keep his eye on me, and he also doesn't trust the guards.”

“With reasons.” she says smirking, “I'm Eira by the way. this is Lars.” pointing to the middle-aged man with a full beard and hair tied in a bun sitting next to Jon. “He doesn't talk much but he's really sweet.”

You simply smile as you're finishing your plate.

“I'm curious Viper, how is it sharing your space with a Solo?” eyes staring up at you while she brought the fork to her mouth.

“A what?” you respond confused.

“Ben, the son of Han and Leia?” Jon replies.

“What do you mean?” Brow's frowning.

They all look at each other before she replies, “Kylo Ren is Ben Solo, the son of Han Solo and Leia Organa.”

Your eyes widen in shock, “How? What? How did he end up here?” Questioning quickly.

Jon shakes his head slightly, “last time I saw Ben with his parents, was the night before he left with his uncle, Luke.” He takes a sip from his cup, “I served Princess Leia for most of my life before being captured and imprisoned here. I have been away from home 3years now.”

Your eyes saddened to his words, “that's horrible..” being cut off by a bell.

The worker's alarm went off before Eira could take her last bite. “We should get going if we don't want to be late”

As you put your tray in the bin, Henry stays close by. Waiting for you to be done to walk you to your job. “You don't have to do that; you know that right?"

He gives you one of his genuine smiles. “I'm sorry I couldn't keep up with you. I am, truly.” He stops in the middle of the now empty hallway with everyone already taking their stations.

“It's okay, don't worry about it. C’mon, we'll be late.”

But he grabs your wrist. Looking deeper into your eyes, caressing your hand with the back of his fingers. He doesn't waste his time, leaning forward almost kissing, “Would you come meet me tonight at the control bri..”

“Are you okay?”

Henry’s eyes were beginning to look scared. His hands moving towards his throat, trying to remove something that wasn't there, fully choking and fighting for air. As you turn your head, you see a masked Kylo moving around the corner with a hand extended towards Henry.

“STOP! YOU’RE GOING TO KILL HIM!” Yelling as he walks in your direction.

“That's the point” saying dry and cold.

“Please Kylo!” but your pleas were useless as his body stays put. “Please stop, I beg you!”

He turns his helmet quickly to you, “go on..”

“What?”

“What do you propose?”

You were taken aback. You didn't think about that. “I- I'll do whatever you want.” your heart skipping a beat as you say the words.

He looks back at Henry, who is slowly turning colors. “This is your lucky day.” Finally releasing him and letting him fall to his knees. “Go!” Kylo stressed before you see Henry get back on his feet clumsily and run away as fast as he can.

You let out a sigh, “that was unnecessary..”

He turns to you, his tall and broad frame hovering over you. “I heard your thoughts..”

“Yes, it's normal to have them” looking up to him.

“Yeah well, your desir-”

*”Sir Ren, meeting at 10 with the counc..”* Getting cut off by a transmission.

“Not now General, move it for tomorrow.”

*“Sir, I'm afraid-”*

“I have an important matter on hand.” Starting to get impatient and annoyed.

*”I would hardly qualify a poor slave girl as impor-”// “General Hux!”

“As you wish, Sir Ren..” his voice sounding bitter.

As soon as the transmission ended, Kylo quickly turned all his attention back on you.

“You, come with me..”

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punemy-spotted · 1 year

Text

Sixteen Tons - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Muscle and Blood

Pairing: Miner!Curtis Everett x Witch!Reader

Warnings: THIS IS A HORROR FIC, Discussion of death, graphic depiction of someone bleeding out, 1890s coal mining town aesthetic in the modern day, strong pro-union opinions, Pentecostal Christianity, Appalachian Gothic Horror, Cosmic Horror, See future chapter warnings for additional tags, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

PLEASE REMEMBER THAT YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY AND IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE CONTENT THAT IS BEING PRESENTED, PLEASE DO NOT READ

Chapter Summary: The world melts away, rots into dirt and decay, and as a garden grows untended, you find your gifts crowding out the rest of your life.

We all know that the only light in the deep dark is a paycheck. So hush. Count your blessings, boy. Roof over your head, food on the table, diesel and grease, work boots on the porch, crippled back, crumbling joints, and silence. Company and even union, tuck you in, shut you up, and leave you to rot. And God damn it, you’d better be grateful. - Old Gods of Appalachia Episode 3: The Covenant

Notes: This fic also serves as a sort of direct sequel to Glory, Amen, in that the reader is technically the daughter of Pastor and Ma Rogers, but uses a pseudonym outside of the home she grew up in. The song referenced in this chapter is No Glory, by The Eagle Rock Gospel Singers. They're wonderful, so check them out!

At the time of publishing this chapter, the Family Sleepover, Down in the Valley is still ongoing! Please come by and check it out as we celebrate spooky season all year ‘round!

Also, in this house we support Unions.

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

‘Course, everything dies, eventually. Much as you loathed sittin’ through your daddy’s sermons, you knew the truth in ‘em — death is a prize every livin’ being, regardless of sapience or the desire to be, ought to aspire for.

Death is the gift of all gifts, your daddy would proclaim from his bone-and-antler pulpit, the final gesture of our loving Lord and Savior — an’ of course, you, your sisters, your momma, your daddy and a few others your daddy claimed were kinfolk on his side were just… all the guides meant to introduce all manner of worldly beings too blind t’understand just how precious that kind of oblivion was to the glory of that final, permanent end.

Still.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

Curtis Everett is going to die in your kitchen, his own pickaxe embedded in his chest, the final desperate pumps of his pierced heart pouring blood all over that pretty linoleum you didn’t actually like keepin’ in your kitchen an’ probably would tear up after you came to terms with never feelin’ like you could scrub away the remnants of him.

You watch it play out before you like you’ve done plenty of times before, the course of Curtis Everett’s life written in scars yet t’be earned, bruises waitin’ to bloom on flesh that has known little more than the danger an’ dread of coal dust for as long as you have known him.

You also watch him sittin’ in your clinic, for once not complainin’ as you finish cleaning and re-wrappin’ the thankfully not festering burn he’d been dutifully lettin’ you treat — per your own professional orders — for the past week-and-a-half, Looks like it’s healin’ nicely, but it’ll probably scar.

It’s not the first scar he’s earned in Snowpiercer, but it’s certainly not goin’ to be the last. You’ve been countin’ down the months — and injuries — to that particular worry for a while. The ones you can help him avoid — the ones he listens to you about — you warn against, and the ones he can’t escape, you patch up. The same as you would anyone in Snowpiercer, bein’ the company’s own doctor as you are.

Your momma’d scold you up, down an’ sideways if she knew what you were doin’, interferin’ with the predestined path of men as you watched ‘em struggle, suffer, an’ eventually succumb. But your momma wasn’t here to know, an’ ever if she was, your momma’d never be able to understand just what sorta poison of a gift it was she’d saddled you with.

Death is a Rogers daughter’s birthright, even if they themselves were more often than not denied the majesty of its truest gift. You were not born into this life to die, but to be a guardian of it, to guide the walkin’ dead makin’ their way beyond the borders of that ol’Holler you’d been born in through the trials of judgment an’ that precious, ultimate verdict.

You were not, your momma woulda reminded, voice sharp as the trowel she always kept at her side, garden bloomin’ by her stern hand, meant to shield ‘em from the pains of life — an’ the lessons to be gleaned from ‘em!

Anythin’ you want me to do with it? Curtis Everett’s question breaks you out of your bitterness, reminds you of the more pressin’ responsibilities you chose. You turn to watch him, lookin’ at him as if you might just need a moment to remember the exact instructions you ought to give for his wound care.

Except that’s not what you give, is it?

‘Stead, you look over Curtis Everett’s work-weary expression, the quest dread in his eyes at the prospect of needin’ to manage yet one more thing, one more purchase at the Company Store, one more burden to bear, Just come by every evenin’. I’ll keep the coal dust outta them wrappin’s for you.

You know full well you’ll need to work late t’take care of it — an’ t’clean the coal dust outta your clinic — but it’s better you than him.

Least, that’s what you tell yourself, as Curtis Everett’s shoulder relax, relief floodin’ those work-weathered features you’ve almost started memorizing by this time, makin’ the sleep you will almost certainly lose tomorrow and the remainder of this week worth it.

It must always be worth it.

By the time you leave your clinic, barrin’ the doors for the night, even the moon’s started its settin’, leaving the town in near-pitch darkness. You might’ve — if you were young an’ naïve enough — equated the darkness around you to a mineshaft, if mineshafts still had the privilege of fresh air to reward you for breathin’.

Not on Company Time.

Wiser folk than you might’ve considered stayin’ indoors ‘til sunup. Maybe even considered the merits of puttin’ a cot in your office to avoid havin’ to brave the deep woods durin’ the Witchin’ Hour, everyone more than aware of what sorta shadows lurked beyond the borders of a sad little minin’ town — an’ what sorta shadows would encroach upon those borders the moment they got the chance.

You… ain’t got much time t’think about that now though, not when you catch sight of the figure lurkin’ by the road, the only path there is t’ween your two worlds — the Clinic and the House. Everett?

There he is, hands jammed into the pockets of his overcoat, lurkin’ by the lone streetlamp Pierce an’ Rumlow’d finally seen fit to install in this part of town, after you’d spent about four years complainin’. Too late to be walkin’ back alone, Doctor, he tells you, almost sheepishly, expression invisible in the darkness — and yet you know exactly how his lips have curved into a half-smile you might’ve been quick to return had you seen it in the daytime, Figured I’d walk you back up as thanks for stayin’ late for me.

You can’t help yourself, really — you smile at him right back, the corners of your mouth tickin’ up despite the cruelty playin’ out before your eyes, at least until you remember yourself an’ blink away the vision, If I kept the same hours as you pit boys, nobody’d be gettin’ patched up. Now you best not be tellin’ me you were lurkin’ out here in the pitch dark an’ cold waitin’ for me t’finish my notes and close up, Curtis Everett.

Maybe you ought not have put words in his mouth — or taken ‘em out, as the case may be — as he shrugs at you and flashes you a grin you cannot see but are certain of, Then I won’t, Doctor.

An’ with that, he starts off back down the road, towards the lights still spillin’ from the windows of your boarding house, hummin’ some ol’ work song you only halfway knew the words too. An’ you watch him go on for longer than you should, takin’ in the sight of his silhouette slowly becomin’ part of the gloom.

You catch up soon enough, keepin’ up with his long, languid strides as if by some miracle, your own steps quick and harried. There are moments you wonder how a man like Curtis Everett — always managin’ to tower over everyone in the room, includin’ Superintendent Wilford an’ that lady Minister Mason he’d installed over at the Tabernacle of the Iron Gospel — ever really managed to fit in the mines this whole sad sack of a town was built around.

Shouldn’t have stayed out waitin’ for me, you scold with a good-natured ribbin’, not really meaning to chastise… but worry instead, You’ll’ve missed dinner call, Everett.

So’ve you, Doctor, he counters, the burr of laughter in his voice makin’ you roll your eyes an’ put on a scowl you barely mean — mostly cuz you hate feelin’ so outwitted, but no one dare make you admit it.

I’m allowed to be late, I own the place, you argue right back, a rebuttal that earns you another low chuckle, a sound you’re only used to hearin’ from Curtis on rare occasion — earnin’ you a burn of pride in your chest at hearing it now.

You really ought not do this, you know. But here you are, comfortable in the cold silence of the deep night, hands jammed into your coat pockets, walkin’ alongside Curtis Everett with all the calm an’ ease of dear friends.

Glancing at him. Looking without lookin’, pretendin’ you don’t know what you’ll see when you—

You know better, is the bottom line. You know you ought to know better — hell, you know your momma taught you better.

In the corner of your vision, Curtis Everett bleeds his last on your linoleum floor.

In front of you? Curtis Everett hums a work song an’ walks with you through the gloom, right up to the gold-light gleam of your doorstep an’ into your kitchen, the ghosts of the future fadin’ into an approaching dawn.

An’ maybe that’s enough.

Company House — its true name barely in use by you or your boarders, halfway for your own protection an’ halfways cuz it’s just easier — is a handsome-enough structure, nothin’ like that ramblin’ greenhouse you’d sprouted in, a bloom in your momma’s garden.

No. Company House — name lost an’ purpose found — on the other hand, is yours. All yours.

A loomin’ thing, the house cuts through the nighttime gloom like a lighthouse, every window on its main story burstin’ with light. Built on a hill overlookin’ the town proper, it served as home an’ hearth for any miner ineligible for the pretty pre-built housin’ developments south of the mine, where Pierce & Rumlow… rewarded those willin’ to produce more bodies to throw into that gapin’ wound the combine’d carved into the mountainside with such luxuries as driveways, fences, mortgages, an’ obligations.

It was just the way you liked it. Home for the lonely an’ the friendless — least that’s how it sounded in town, if someone dared ask Minister Mason about the mountain fortress an’ the ‘Godless Heathens’ inhabitin’ it. The Iron Gospel she preached ran on the blood an’ bones of its congregation, on family an’ obligation, on ties that bind whole generations to the mine.

A Gospel that had no room for the wholly different kinda worship that comes from strangers sittin’ round a table breakin’ bread an’ formin’ bonds. On brotherhood an’ union, on wantin’ somethin’ better that the paltry concessions afforded by minders with plenty of money t’provide more. You knew it then from your daddy’s own congregation an’ those Sunday suppers your momma arranged each week. You know it now from the warm surety of Curtis Everett’s hand on your arm, keepin’ you from losin’ your footing on that trick step you ain’t had time to fix — I can get Ed to take care of that tomorrow — and the sound of hurried conversation bubbling outta your front parlor, house still buzzin’ with life.

Shit, Curtis’s swearing nearly startles you outta your skin all over again as you both stand on the front porch, stompin’ the day’s coal dust off your shoes, forgot there was meeting tonight. Foreman’s gonna have words for me, no doubt.

You’re allowed t’be late, for walkin’ me home, you tell him, letting the light of the house illuminate your smile as you open the front door.

Meeting is a cute word for it — s’the way things go, get the lonely and the friendless to start airin’ grievances an’ suddenly they ain’t so lonely nor so friendless anymore. A man with a wife and children might think twice about givin’ the company a reason to tear away the roof over his family’s head, divin’ into his future tomb day after day, respirator an’ headlamp in hand, but a man with nothin’ to lose is a man with a bone to pick with the only industry in town capable of puttin’ food in his belly on a daily basis — so long as he survived to see his next meal. Unions, you got used to hearin’ back in your own holler, are the Lord’s way of puttin’ His protection back into a man’s own hands.

Too bad them folks at P&R’d forgotten that sorta conventional wisdom.

Tonight’s union meeting is just about comin’ to a close when you and Curtis walk in, a cracked joke derailing whatever Gilliam’s supposed agenda had left to cover. You’re late, the old man half-scolds, room hushed by his disappointment as all eyes turn to you and the union leader you know you’re already being accused of distracting.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

Ignoring the raised voices that begin in your wake — and unwilling to get between two men in the middle of a union dispute — you make yourself proper scarce, disappearing into the kitchen. Between running the clinic and the house, you’re run halfway ragged, but you do cheer quietly upon seeing two foil-covered plates sitting in the fridge — Yona keeps true to her eternal word, making sure nobody goes hungry if she’s got the time and the ingredients.

The sound of someone entering the kitchen while you’re putting plates in the warmer don’t surprise you much — someone was bound to follow you into this place eventually — but you don’t turn around, not immediately.

Not ‘til Curtis Everett clears his throat, Thought I smelled food.

You sure you ain’t part bloodhound, smellin’ it all the way out there?

There. Another burr of laughter, low in his throat, and another burn of pride.

They calm down out there? You wave your hand toward the general direction of the parlor, noting the distinct lack of raised voices now that the warmer’s stopped beepin’ at you.

It’s my fault — should’ve told ‘em I’d be late.

They worried?

He’s quiet at that, the silence sittin’ heavy on both your shoulders while you move around the kitchen some more, collectin’ utensils and glancin’ back at him occasionally, waiting.

Finally — Gilliam’s steppin’ down. Nobody wants the job — company’s made sure of that.

You set the platter in front of him, to quiet thanks, He still want you to take over?

He don’t need to answer. You see it again, written all over his face — someone’s gotta do it.

The rest of the meal is… quiet. Heavy. Uncomfortable. A silence neither of you are willin’ to break, coupled with glances neither of you are willin’ to admit to, brows furrowed and thoughts elsewhere. Barely tasting the food, just glad to have something to busy your mouths with, ‘stead of trying to hold a conversation neither party wants t’have or worse — trying to change the fuckin’ subject, with both your minds trapped on the things you’d rather not think about.

Curtis Everett is going to die.

Everything dies, eventually. You rationalize it between bites, teeth on tongue to keep the scream of it all held in your chest. Everything dies, including Curtis Everett. Including Gilliam — whose death you’ve pre-emptively forgiven certain parties for. Including Yona — whose hands will evidence endless adventures before she lays down for that final rest, satisfied an’ satisfying. Everything dies. Includin’ Curtis Everett.

Curtis Everett, who will take on the work. Who, in three weeks’ time, will be back in your clinic, bullet in his shoulder an’ strike unbroken. Company infuriated.

One injury closer.

You open your mouth, about to do the unthinkable, disappointment and poisoned bloom — everythin’ dies, but Curtis Everett deserves to choose — when the music finally registers with you both.

Music. And singing. And laughter.

The kitchen door slams open hard enough to rattle the plates in the cupboard, Yona’s wild presence in the doorway, Come on!

No explanation. No answers. You’ll have t’see it to know it.

Curtis glances back at you, brow raised an’ hackles too. Better make sure they’re behavin’ out there, is all you give in response to it, on your feet in a flash, empty dishes in hand.

He lingers, eyes on you. Imposes his will with his presence, You need help with the dishes?

Let him stay.

You don’t.

S’two plates an’ a couple mugs. I’ll be fine — you go, keep an eye on ‘em for me.

He’s so fast — behind you in a flash. How does a man so tall an’ so full of presence move so fast?

Got no time for answering that, not when his hand’s on your shoulder and you’re glancin’ back at him without thinkin’, waiting. Come out there when you’re done or Yona’ll never let either of us hear the end of it.

An’ neither will I, is what he doesn’t say. Not aloud, at least, stepping back only when you nod.

It don’t stop you from hearin’ it though, playin’ on loop in your mind all the way through dishes, through cleanin’ up your kitchen, through makin’ good on your word an’ takin’ that cautious walk to your parlor, where the sound of stompin’ boots joins in with the chorus of voices pouring outta your record player, blessedly drownin’ out all manner of conscious thought.

Take me down to that red dirt road Where all them white tails, white tails roam

The parlor is abuzz with life, a hive of movement as you take in rearranged furniture an’ the slowly climbin’ beat of stomping boots coupled with clapping hands, ring of bodies circlin’ the room, all watching Tanya — up from the General Store like always, on behalf of the widows this town left behind — in her valiant attempt to tutor Edgar in the complexities an’ social conventions of a good ol’ fashioned barn dance.

I don’t belong in a big coal town Can’t hear my Lord in all that sound

You almost manage t’become part of that ring of onlookers, slippin’ past the disapproval ruining Gilliam’s face, but turns out no one escapes Curtis Everet, work-hardened fingers winding around your wrist an’ pulling you back, Thought I was gonna have t’come rescue you from the sink, and now there’s no getting away, nor are you feelin’ quite so keen on it anymore.

Not when he looks at you like that.

Wanna show ‘em how it’s done, Doctor?

You dance, Everett? Since when? And since when did Curtis Everett become capable of smiling so sweet he just might fool you into saying yes?

Hell — what gave him the right?

Well I’ve had my fill, of concrete floor Where all them highways, them highways grow

You don’t get a chance to ask too many questions of him, not when he’s pullin’ your fool self right into the center of that cleared floor, sayin’ somethin’ about secrets you barely catch before he’s turnin’ you about an’ you gotta start paying some fucking attention.

There ain’t no glory None that I see None to compare Your love for me

‘Course, you’ve danced before — your daddy might’ve been a fire an’ brimstone preacher up at that bone an’ antler pulpit but he wasn’t a fool — but barn dances an’ church revivals don’t do shit t’prepare you for the rush, for the easy pressure of Curtis Everett’s hands on you, for the peal of laughter that pours outta your throat before you get a chance to think about it the moment he spins you out an’ catches you back with entirely too much ease.

He surprises you and doesn’t at the same time, sure hands and steady feet, both of you catching on to the rhythm quickly as the rest of the room drums the beat, a cacophony of work boots strikin’ the floor in a steady pattern, You gonna answer my question properly, Everett, you accuse him and he pulls you closer, smile on your face betrayin’ any anger you might be feigning.

I’m full of surprises, Doctor.

My days are few, my time is near But I know God will take my fear

He keeps his hands respectful, holdin’ one of your high and keepin’ the other at the small of your back, but there’s nothin’ either of you can — or want to, you’re startin’ to realize — do about the closeness, about the way you can’t stop looking up at him and the stormclouds in his eyes, like you’re seeing them for the first time. Really seeing them, that is.

It’s somethin’. Hypnotic.

The chorus turns into a loop, a rising swell of voices joinin’ your thudding heartbeat, lips parting to ask another question, make another joke, feel that burr of laughter against your chest, feel hands fallin’ from the glory of God to meet a different kinda worship, feel fingers curl into his coat like a lifeline.

He holds your cheek. He draws you in.

His mouth slides over yours like an invitation, your lips parting like an acceptance, like forgetting, like surrender. The music does not slow, but you do, fallin’ into the languid ease of hungry breathlessness, like you could find answers in the sweep of a tongue against yours, in the tightening of his grip on your back, in the wall of him around you.

Your love for me Your love for me Your love for me Your love for me

#curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x fem!reader #curtis everett #curtis everett x you #curtis everett imagine #chris evans #chris evans imagine #fanfiction #writing #in which tessa finally writes something #series: down here in this valley

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elemit · 8 months

Text

A Gift, A Curse

A story in which we discover just how damned an ascended vampire can be, and just how far you will go to save the spawn you loved.

Read in full on AO3

dead dove/not beta read

fic warnings: Abuse, Angst, Biting, Blood and Gore, Blood Drinking, Bondage, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Food Restriction, Hate Sex, Horror, Mental Coercion, Mind Control, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sexual Coercion, Torture, Total Power Exchange, Trauma, Vampire Bites

Chapter 24: Return

For the first time in a long time, you wake up in Astarion’s arms. It surprises you that you feel no desire to pull away. He seems to sense your wakefulness and shifts to further encompass you in his embrace.

“Two rescues in a tenday,” he says, kissing your hair. “Once from yourself, and once from an ally. They say things happen in threes - I do wonder what the third shall be.”

You think you can hear a trace of mockery in his voice, but you deafen yourself to it. You want to melt into the warmth of his body. You want to crawl up inside his ribs and make a home for yourself beside his loudly beating heart. You want to become whatever it is that he wants you to be.

Anything as long as you don’t have to be yourself.

Anything as long as you don’t have to be alone.

You trail him like a shadow through the morning, pressing close to him while he writes letters and issues sendings to his puppets on the council. You want to scream when he announces he is leaving to take care of business in the city after luncheon. When he leaves, you search desperately for company amongst the staff, making a nuisance of yourself in the kitchens and the scullery until you are firmly led out of each.

You wander, aimless, panicked, until you find your feet leading you back to the room from the night before.

You stand in the doorway.

You don’t know why you’ve come, but your feet drive you inside. Someone has drawn the curtains against the sun, but the candles are fire are lit. There is a dark brown stain on the floor, and the furniture has been pushed to the sides of the room to make way for seemingly failed cleaning attempts.

You sink into a settee. Your mind feels so crowded with thoughts that you can’t make out a single one clearly from the din. Your fingers pick painfully at your nails as your eyes dart desperately around the room, looking for any kind of distraction, eventually settling on the bookshelves that line the walls. You pick up a book, opening it to the first page. For a while you stare at the opening paragraph, eyes unfocused, brain unable to process anything, but eventually, slowly, the words draw you in.

It’s only when hunger creeps up on you, clawing and red in your belly, that you realise that you’ve almost finished the book. The golden blush of sunlight that was ringing the curtains has faded to a weak silver, and you are shocked to find that you had become so lost in the story that you have read right through dinnertime.

You hurry to your chamber, where - thank the gods - a cup of blood is waiting for you. Astarion has still not returned.

You are not ready to feel anything so strong as pride, but you force yourself to acknowledge the fact that you have at least survived another day.

#astarion smut #astarion x reader #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x you #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #a gift a curse #astarion fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #long fic

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porchtart · 1 year

Text

Re: that last post, as we've been writing out more of [UNTITLED SLAYERVERSE PROJECT] I've been thinking a lot about the Vibes and what fantasies the story fulfills. What started out as a straight up erotic horror story has taken a decidedly gothic romantic turn (not mad about it) and it's been really interesting looking at it through pieces of media that have influenced us. There's another great post that I reblogged at one point about Labyrinth and the fantasies that that fulfills, and the role of a handsome but scary older male love interest in a coming of age setting. I've been thinking about it a lot also now having seen The Company of Wolves, which is the movie that prompted our current Madness.

Nikolae for me fulfills multiple roles, and it's very much both the Fantasy Lover and the embodiment of my fears about myself. He's a very intense and scary person who has very little self control and loves to hurt others, but he's learning control because he needs Katya so intensely that he'll do the thing that he was never willing to do for anyone else in his centuries of life just to have her. He's also the fantasy of the lover that knows what she needs, even when she doesn't. It's a rape fantasy, but as with a lot of rape fantasies it's about the plausible deniability when it comes to being forced to do things that are so filthy that it's impossible for you to articulate that you desperately want them without that burn of embarrassment consuming your soul. It's the fantasy of the lover that knows you better than you know yourself, and being set free by that corruption, that torment.

And Katya is the fantasy lover as well. She's unrelenting and cruel in many of the same ways, but in a different tone. She's clean and precise and is perfectly capable of being in charge. She is monstrous in a way that isn't gleeful like Nikolae, but is almost... (don't kill me, Cal) pragmatic. She knows what Nikolae needs, even if it's impossible for him to admit. The way that she gives him what he needs is through incredibly cruel and degrading physical and emotional violence, a complete unmaking of who he is. He's meant to be the one in control, the one who is the Lord, the Protector, the Keeper of his family's legacy -- things that he doesn't want, but was forced into. By unmaking him both physically and emotionally, he can be made into something free of those binding responsibilities.

The fantasy is freedom from repression, from gender roles, from their stations in life. As each other's fantasy lovers, they are both objects of envy and desire. They need to crawl into each other's skin and move them from the inside, both to possess and to become.

Anyway. The moral of [UNTITLED SLAYERVERSE PROJECT] is [LOUD STATIC NOISE]

#babbles #nikkat tag #slayerverse #oc tag #writing tag #rape mention #i'm dying scoob

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sisislair · 8 months

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Decided that I will be liveblogging my experience with listening to the Magnus Archives. I have a general sense of who charachters are and some of the major spoilerish plot points due to going through the tags on Tumblr recently as well as reading some fics, but I'm pretty in the dark as far as the specifics go.

But yeah I listened to the first seven episodes last night! Thoughts as I was listening are under the cut.

Ep 1 - Angler Fish

Jonathon Sims, new head archivist for the Magnus institute(supernatural research place). Employed by Elias bouchard, head of the institute, to replace Gertrude Robinson, recently dead. Jon has worked here as a researcher for 4 years now. Jon is a skeptic. If an investigation has gone as far as possible without conclusion or new leads, it is transferred to the archives. Institute founded in 1818. Archive is terribly organized. 86-91G/H. Very few investigations actually seem to be stored down here, only the original statements. Three research assistants. One named Martin who he finds useless. Other two are Tim and Sasha. Some of the statements cannot be recorded digitally, can only be recorded with a tape recorder. Additional information about the followups is being provided by his assistants. Nathan Watts. Case #0122204. Old fishmarket close, Edinburgh. April 21st, 2012. Institute is in London. Fear of strangers. 6 disappearences Jessica Mcuin November 2005, Sarah Baldwin August 2006, Daniel Rawlins December 2006, Ashley Dobson and Megan Shure May and June 2008, John Fellows March 2010.

Ep 2 - Do not Open

Case #9982211. Joshua Gellespie. November 22nd, 1998. Bournemouth, that's where Jon was born. Fear of strangers. Fear/desire for the truth. Fear of death/being buried alive looks to be the main one. Most clever horror movies protagonist ever. Breacon and hope delivery company. Operated until 2009. Based on Nottingham far north of Bournemouth. Gellespie was the only person to live in that building for the two years he had the coffin. Nobody ever moved in after either. 2 years alone.

Ep 3- Across the Street

Case #0070107. Amy Patel. July 1st 2007. Disappearence of aquaitence Graham Forger. Voyeuristic tendencies from her. The spiral/madness? She watched him ceaselessy. Which hmmm. April 7th. Not Graham. Now being watched in return. Watching seems to be a central theme.

Ep 4- Page Turner

Case#0132806. Dominic Swain. June 28, 2013. Nottingham. Ex alte arua. From higher, from out of the heights. The vast. Jorgun Leitner. Mountains, cliffs. Fear of the sky. Vertigo. Key of Solomon. McGregor Matthew and jorun Leitner. Bought by GRbookworm. Gertrude Robinson? Jorgun leitner reclusive book collector. Had the book made possibly? Pinhole books, Mary keys. Ozone. Mary keys clean shaven with lots of tattooed words, listens to death metal. Her Jared? Painting of an eye. Grant is the sight that we may not know. Grant is the scent that we may not catch. Grant is the sound that we may not call. Jared made the painting. Bones fell out of the shadows of the other book. The dark for her bookshop? Lichtenburg figure in the starry vertigo sky. Childhood friend was struck by lightning because of him. Micheal Crew. Survived. Leather coat, dyed black hair. Jared Key. Had to be bought in order to give it away. Mary keys was murdered in 2008. Overdose of painkillers, extensive post motrum body mutilation. The flesh? Looked the same as the person he met. Her skin was hung up to dry. But with hair and tattoos. Jared charged with his mother's murder, but acquitted. Jared burned the book. 1994 incident related to leitner's library. Current project. His library is a problem. Mary's drying skin had been written on in permanent marker. The tattoos! The same language as the bone book. Jon will try to persuade Elias to make searching for the rest of leitner's books a top priority. They've done enough harm.

Ep 5- Thrown Away

Case #0092302. Kieran Woodward. 93 Lancaster Road Walthamstowe. February 23rd, 2009. Hundred of dollheads. David Attire, Matthew Wilkinson, Alan Parfett. The doll house. Next bag, a single super long piece of paper with the Lords prayer written over and over again in Latin. Ritual. Next bag absolutely filled with teeth. Residents had no idea. Alan found someone. Maybe the person leaving the bags. New bag. Packing peanuts. Metal heart of Alan inside. Saresh and Altman were the police who investigated. The teeth were all the same tooth. Needing to know the truth. Not entirely sure what this one is. Corruption or rot possibly?

Ep 6- Squirm

Case #0140912. Timothy Hodge. The dogstar pub/club. Skinny, student, long henna red hair, tron tights, too much eyeliner. Writhe. Her name is Harriet Lee. Arm scratching. Only water. Art student. Panic, difficulty with adjusting to student life. Recently mugged? Archway, Elfthorn row. Woman with long red dress on ground, which squirmed. Long matted black hair. Felt like she was stabbed. Being followed by her. Dragged down by a weight, skin itching plus vomited near the police station. They had sex, but after. Something squirmed inside her skin. She split open. Writhing worms everywhere. He burned down the flat afterwards. Description of red dress woman matches Jane Prentiss, which is concerning. Hodge was probably wormed during sex. Most definitely corruption.

Ep 7- the Piper

Case #9220611. Staff Sargeant Clarence Berry. Wilfred Owen. War. Poems. The trenchs. Wanting to fully describe the war but unable to. But don't worry. You will. Whistling tune. The whistle of artillery. Reborn in the remnants of his own gore. He met the war. The Piper. Avatar of the war? He said that he was left alive to do the wars work. Joseph rainers tags were found next to him. All who here the Piper never make it back. Hamlin was nearby. Are we the stolen children or the rats driven into the river. His poems now had the essence of the war. The ferocity within him...the war is almost over, and he is sad for it. He died when peace was signed. 1922.

Thoroughly enjoying this so far! But will definitely have to space out listening to it due to the spookiness levels.

#my post #tma #tma podcast #the magnus archives #this is the only podcast ive ever decided to really string theory about #so im excited for that!#will have to pace myself #because while wtnv and malevolent are definitely also spooky #they have enough absurdity in wtnv case and omg you fucking idiots in malevolents case to help cut through it #dont really have that yet here

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monster-noises · 2 years

Note

7. Favorite actor of the year?

25. Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one

From your 🎃

7: Oh, harvey guillen absolutely. Him or matt berry. But i side more with harvey cause.. it.. i just.. he........... v////v

25. i did! I did i did, plenty for Andromadis, my ttrpg campaign, many of whom I adore but would be kinda lost without context, and Montgomery but ya'll've heard at least a bit about him so.. hm.

I suppose this was the year that i really Solidified Charlie and Ulysses, who were just kinda floating around amorphous in the brain meats before hand, and i talk about them probably the least! So a Quick Introduction to my bad bad backwater cowboy cosmic horror boys! ( I know the ask is describe One but frankly they cannot be seperated v-v)

Ulysses is a very short and slender man, with close cut reddish hair, small wire glasses, and a clean face (he's trans but that's not really a big talking point here) at one point in time he desired to be a preist and a teacher, but somewhere along the way those dreams fell off. There's some rather... uncharitable rumours as to why but most just chalk it up to his short temper and unnerving disposition being not a good fit for the feild.

He disappeared from town some time ago, just walked into the brush and never came back. He found a book out there, A special book, A living book. A book that contained within its pages all time and all things and all possibilities, and it spoke to him, it called itself 'the fabric of time both woven and unravelled' he introduces it in his sermons as 'the book of ulysses'. He made a deal with the book, feed it; and it will grant you life and freedom and a peak into the unknowable.

So Ulysses marches out across the land, seeking out the smallest most isolated places, to speak the truth written in the books pages, and let it have the spoils of the congregation.

He is not sure if the deal he has made is in anyway a Good one.

Charlie is a ghost.

Kind of.

Charlie Was a man, this is certain, and that man Did die, but his spirit remains and so he must be a ghost? Right? But see, it is unclear if the spirit that takes his apperance and calls itself charlie is fully or even partially the man that once was or just a new unexpected extension of the eternal entity that contains itself within the book.

Charlie was the books previous owner, a tall and sturdy man with a thick beard and long black hair. He was a loner and a wanderer, with a cheerful and disarming personality, the kind of person you would trust at your campfire without really thinking about whether you Should. He remains the only of the only of the books acolytes to ever feed it with his own flesh and time. This caused something of a feedback loop, and resulted in his spirits long entrapment within the entity of the book, and his manifesting as a ghost after ulysses took over as the books keeper.

The two do not make fast friends, but they are coming along, dealing with the horrible business they must attended to definitely brings them together, and though neither would readily admit it, the company is nice to have....

Thank you pumpkin!!!

#monster noises #charlie and ulysses started as Just ulysses #'the book of brother ulysses' being the title for a potential blues grass/folk rock concept album that honestly???#may still be the format i ultimately present this in....#but charlie was introduced when i was on the hunt for ways I could play 2 characters at once in a ttrpg campaign #and realised if i created a swap mechanic whereby they two couldn't Really exsist at the same time #(ulysses was able to basically 'sub out' for charlie for limited periods of time - though a more ethereal charlie could appear #during no-combat situations)#and they were that for a bit #but FaHI got my head trying to find that same kinda dynamic in something original and while karl and laz don't map 1 to 1 #onto ulysses and charlie #it's about as close as I have and i've had some fun fleshing out their whole kinda Deal #even if they don't have a distinct narrative arch just yet....#also yes they do fuck #are they in a relationship? unsure #but they do fuck sometimes #also charlie has a revolver infused with cosmic horror magic curse energy and it's also purple and shit

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heian-era-housewife · 3 months

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Corporate Affair

Synopsis | The lines between business and pleasure start to blur when you accidentally discover your friend and fellow curse user, Toji Fushiguro, is getting more than just paychecks from your mutual handler, Shiu Kong.

Content | MDNI 18 +, f!reader x toji x shiu, no *actual* sex, suggestive, implied threesome, pantsless toji.

Read Part 2 here

"Kong." The name came out as filthy as a curse. "Next time I see him I'm gonna-" Squaring off with a sidewalk pebble, you sent it skittering down the pavement with a swift kick.

With the failure of your latest mission weighing fresh and heavy on your mind, you set to the streets to get some air, but the late afternoon heat fell down around you in inescapable waves like hot breath. It made you irritable and antsy, or maybe that was just who you were these days. It seemed that, lately, your handler was sending you on the least desireable, most nauseating missions while your friend and cohort, Fushiguro, was getting his pick of the litter. You chalked it up to sexism, but it didn’t make you any less bitter.

It had been a minute since you'd visited Toji so, thinking a drink might improve your mood, you headed toward his place to see if he was home.

Climbing the stairs to his second floor apartment, you could hear muffled voices coming from his unit as you reached the landing. Maybe he already has company, you thought. Lifting a hand to knock anyway, you stopped just before rapping your knuckles on the door as the voice of Shiu Kong reached your ears.

"Fuck, Zen'in. Look what you're making me do," he said brusquely.

"I told ya a thousand times! It's...F-Fushiguro now..." Toji growled, an edge of distress to his voice.

"Yeah, yeah." Shiu spat back dismissively.

Something was off and it wasn't sitting right. Shiu was the last person you wanted to see right now, but your thoughts hung on Toji's strangled words.

On a rushed impulse, you flung open the door, judgement momentarily clouded by blind frustration.

"Shiu I swear to God I-" your words hitched, stuck in your throat, as a hushed silence fell over the room. For a split second, time stood still as you processed the scene before you.

Toji lay back on the couch, pants low on his hips- exposed. Shiu leaned over him, one knee resting on the couch's cushions where he half-stood, belt undone, cigarette hanging casually from his lips just inches from Toji's.

Both of their heads snapped in your direction, wide-eyed horror on Toji's face, mild amusement on Shiu's."You were saying?" He said raising an eyebrow, seemingly unfazed.

Your face drained as you stood, frozen in the open doorway, paralyzed against the shock. Only a choked sound escaped your lips as you stared, open mouthed, at the pair of men you knew so well yet appeared as strangers to you in this moment.

Toji scrambled to yank his pants back up over his hips, keeping his hands on the hem as though they might fall away if he didn't maintain his white-knuckled grip. Shiu stood, straightening his black tie against his clean white shirt, allowing it to hang loosely around his unbuttoned collar. Taking a long, slow drag on his cigarette, he approached you slowly, speaking with a smirk as he slinked closer.

"Don't let me stop you," he simpered in mock concern. "Go ahead! Speak your mind." He prodded, blowing a hazy cloud of smoke toward you as he exhaled deeply.

Your head was spinning, brain working hard to keep up with the rapidly unfolding situation. Mouth dry and breath shallow, words seemed to elude you entirely. That is, until a thought struck you with sudden realization. You chuckled darkly.

"I get it now," you started slowly, shooting a disbelieving grin toward the ceiling. "This is why I've been getting all the shit jobs, isn't it? And here I thought you just didn't like women," your eyes flicked between Shiu and Toji before you continued. "Well...heh...maybe you don't. Just, not in the way I was thinking."

Shiu let out a laugh. "It was never anything personal, sweetheart. I hope you can forgive my..." he nodded over his shoulder to Toji, who was still on the couch, "favoritism."

Toji cast his gaze downward as his cheeks reddened, hands still clutching the waistline of his pants. You'd never seen him like this. Awkward. Vulnerable.

A certain warmth made its way to your core and with a second wave of sudden realization, you found your eyes lingering just a beat too long on your friend. You'd spent many long nights in this apartment over the years sharing a smoke or a drink while griping about work- or lack thereof. Having always found him attractive, you'd entertained the idea of spending some of those nights engaged in a more intimate form of escapism with Toji. Ultimately, you had decided that the nature of your work didn't allow for such relations. Should anything happen to either of you, it'd be better to maintain a certain amount of emotional detachment. Or, at least, that's what you told yourself. But now, seeing him here with cheeks flushed and a sheen of sweat causing the fabric of his shirt to cling to his hardened abs, a pang of jealousy stabbed at your chest having glimpsed a reality that could have been yours, had you taken that leap.

While Toji might be oblivious to your feelings, Shiu was quick to spot the half-second pause that betrayed your innermost thoughts. Flicking his cigarette, he eyed you intensely.

"You could join us."

You were ripped from your momentary daydream, eyes snapping back to Shiu, jaw falling slack- stunned.

"Jesus, Kong!" Toji blurted out, jumping up from the couch.

"Like you haven't thought about-"

"Fuck off, Shiu," Toji growled stepping almost posessively in front of you, drawing himself to full height, squaring off with the rogue handler. Something clicked in your brain.

"I'm just sayin'." Shiu said flippantly.

"She's not just some-" Reaching forward, you closed a hand gently around Toji's wrist, halting his words with your own.

"I want better missions." You stated firmly, causing Toji to whip around and stare at you, dumbfounded.

"Done." Shiu agreed, giving his cigarette an affirming wave.

Toji whipped the other way to gawk at Shiu in disbelief.

"And better pay." You pressed, earning another stunned look from Toji.

"Of course," Shiu smirked.

Coming down from the shock of it all, thinking both lustfully and resolutely of all that was yet to come, a somewhat amusing thought ocurred to you as your eyes darted between the two men whose relationship you now knew to be vastly different than you previously believed.

Closing the door behind you, you asked with a wry smile, "so, are we calling this business...or hell?"

MDNI banner by @cafekitsune ♡

#jjk fic #jjk smut #toji smut #shiu smut #toji fushiguro #shiu kong #toji x reader #shiu x reader #toji x shiu #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #toji x you

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h0llow-max1ez · 5 months

Text

!! OLD EL PASO !!

The year is 2009. Stephen Arellano, a young, struggling addict in El Paso, Texas, stumbles into a club one cold night. As he stumbles around, looking for an ounce of food, or at the very least a drink, he runs into a tall man, well dressed in red. After a while of talking, the two get to drinking, and eventually end up in the red man's mansion. What Stephen doesn't know is he's just gotten himself lost into a world of indescribable horrors. Sex. Drugs. Murder. Gambling.

Welcome to the wild west.

Old El Paso has been a passion project ever since my freshman year, so if you're still reading this, thanks! I appreciate it.

!! THE GANGS !!

Old El Paso centers around the conflicts between 4 major gangs that collide in a small, Texas city.

The Reds

The Reds, led by 33 year old Preston Olveira, is a pr*stitution ring. It's a powerful gang, and the primary focus of the story, as Stephen is hired to be a personal hitman for Preston at the beginning of the story.

Preston is a manipulative and cunning man, able to successfully drag anyone and everyone that he desires into his business, eventually trapping them there permanently. He uses love and "care" to lure his victims into false senses of security, much like he did to Stephen himself.

The Blues

The Blues, led by 46 year old Zuri Muchumba, is a hitman agency. Zuri and the gang as a whole serve as antagonists to the story, as she and Preston have a long and complicated history. The Blues are notoriously violent and cold, historically ruling through fear and financial manipulation.

Zuri is a calm, level-headed and calculated woman. She's highly experienced, having owned this company for a little over 20 years. She's incredibly professional, and never let's her emotions get in the way of her business. Especially not after Preston.

The Greens

The Greens, better known as Cartel Del Caballeros, are a drug cartel led by the Velazquez family. The current boss is Joseph Velazquez, a 47 year old man who inherited the position from his mother and father back when he was only 21. His right hand is his sister Estrella, and his daughter is Kiki, who is a mere 20 years old.

Joseph is incredibly relaxed and fun loving, never engaging in violence or intimidation himself, though he's very capable of such. As he was raised to, he's very centered and keeps his image clean, immediately sending people out to clear any problems that may damage the cartel's image, all while planning parties and keeping a smile on his face.

The Yellows

The Yellows, also known by their popular club name The Bakery of Beatings, is an illegal gambling/fighting ring co-operated by a 37 year old couple only known publicly as Cherry and Berry. The company focuses around violent entertainment and indulgence, and the lovers will make certain that anyone who causes trouble is thoroughly baked. Especially cheaters.

Cherry is an excitable, cheery woman, much in contrast to her quiet, stoic boyfriend Berry. Cherry focuses on the overall image and financial concerns, while Berry handles things having to do with the behind the scenes process, such as extortion and especially silencing trouble. Though Berry does have a powerful position, it's widely known that Cherry is the "true" boss of the operation, while Berry is the guard dog.

☆ If you've read this far, thanks. I appreciate it, and more story information will be released soon!! ☆

#MAX.OC.YAPOLOGY 🎃#OLD EL PASO TAG 🌵#tw: prostitution #tw: drugs #creative writing #original characters

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sunnydayjackass · 2 years

Text

Bodies

Nsfw, tw: fake blood, prop weapon

Originally when Shaun had asked you for help on a project- you'd thought about setting up, dragging equipment, shuffling props from storage, fetching coffees or waters.

Not near ass naked in the middle of bumfuck nowhere woods.

But when a friend asks for help, you help 'em. So there you stand in your underwear, splattered in fake blood, a prop knife in your hand, and a Purge movie themed mask adorned with LED lights. A purposely torn and tattered "Do you like scary movies" shirt is the only thing you have to protect you from the October chill as you shuffle your feet in the cool grass. "C'mon man, I'm gonna freeze out here." You whine, slumping your shoulders and head lolling as you groan. Shaun is resetting his camera and fetching a few more smoke tubes from his bag to set off.

You'd been photographing for who knows how long and that dinner you were bribed with is sounding better and better. You're ready to put your pants back on and demand your debt be paid.

"I hear you, I hear you-- the shots are great just a few more for safety." Shaun soothes and gives you a chuckle. Easy for him to say, fucker has jeans and his flannel on. Annoyance pulls at your features while Shaun carefully pulls the tube and whisps of smoke begin to erupt to set his desired ambiance. How many times you've choked coughing and potentially ruined a shot, you don't know but Shaun will definitely make a meme of it to send you.

"Okay, just like the last few." He readies the camera and by now your scowl is real, a sneer threatening to pass your lips as you stalk towards the camera. You're meant to look like you're only going to swing at but you're tempted to knock it out of his hands if you didn't know how expensive they are. The vicious cycle repeats itself a few more times before Shaun straightens to flip through the new shots. A wide toothy grin splits his lips and he gives a howl of approval. "Fuck YES, that was perfect (Name). You really nailed it in this batch." Shaun is too distracted looking through them again and again as you huff and rip the mask off your head, touselling your hair in the process.

"Great, good, fantastic--can we go now? Bad enough I gotta go out to eat looking like this but I don't want my ass getting frostbite. " you mutter, quickly stalking to his car to pull out your pants and fall coat. You hug the fabric around you before realization hits you you didn't wipe ANY of the fake blood off. "...you're paying to get my coat cleaned." You call before tugging your shoes back on.

He laughs again, unbothered by your sour mood as you join him in picking up the pieces of the set and stashing them securely in the car. Ready to turn around for the last few pieces you feel large arms wrap around you from behind and give you an affectionate squeeze. "Y'know...I really am grateful you came out here with me tonight. You really did capture what I was looking for and...well, I had a lot of fun. I hope I didn't push you too hard." Shaun withdraws enough for you to turn, hands resting on his forearms. His smile is as soft as his appreciative gaze, one eye obscured by the thick navy dipped locs.

You pout for a minute before leaning your weight against him, content and warm in his embrace. "Next time, tell me what the plan is. Or bring me a blanket and thermos between." You mutter, sour feeling beginning to desolve away under his affections. You nuzzle into him fondly, you'd always felt so comfortable with Shaun, so secure and safe, so warm and..fluttery. Inwardly you always knew you had a crushy fondness for horror enthusiast. You just didn't want to risk anything changing between you two. His friendship had gotten you through so much, his company always so inviting and kind...but

Shaun's nose brushes against your forehead, dipping a little closer. "Are you still cold?" He murmurs, lidded gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips. You're so close, pressed together and anyone would likely assume that you were a couple-heat is flushing your cheeks and even though warmth floods your system...you want more.

"...a little." You manage to breathe, your grip firmer and now on the front of his flannel shirt. Your head swims with excitement, giddy butterflies run amok in your stomach as Shaun's lips meet your own. Delicately to start, giving you slack to withdraw and change your mind. It's thrown out the window as soon as you press yourself impossibly close and move your lips against his. His hands wander to your hips and push you against the bumper of the car before lifting you slightly to perch upon it. Hands snaking up to lace themselves under Shaun's hair, you tug him closer to deepen the kiss, your eyetooth sinking into his lower lip in a teasing nip. Shaun groans, low and warning against you, fingertips massaging your thighs before parting.

He's between your legs now as his tongue dips into your mouth to map it out. How many times had Shaun thought about this? Envied Ian from afar? Too many times to count, but it all poured forth in this situation. You moan softly as Shaun parts to kiss along your jawline down to the column of your throat, nipping and latching until a soft bruise forma in its wake. Shaun's flannel smells of bonfire smoke, cedar, and vetiver. Somehow fresh and so like him you want to burrow into him further. When his hands meet the loose hem of your shirt he seems to give pause again, as if to continuing to check if you still want this. Want him.

Your hands drop to Shaun's belt loops and tug him back to you where your lips collide again- this time you leading him as you arch your back to push yourself in want. His hands electrify your nerves as they brush up your sides to ghost over your ribs before palming your chest, thumbs running teasingly slowly over your nipples. Your hips shimmy against Shaun's, seeking friction, some sort of relief to the aching throb between your legs. You'd been freezing just moments before and these embers of attraction have kindled into a full blaze. "...you wanna...?" Shaun's voice is a strained rasp over your collar, hot breath fanning out over a mottled mark that makes you keen and nod your head vigorously.

Gently you're pushed back onto the blanket bunched up in the trunk space and folded seats as Shaun's hands make quick work of your pants you'd only just put on. You lift your hips to help, excitement thrumming in your chest as the clinking of his belt buckle and rustling of denim reach your ears. Reaching between you, fingers stroke you a few times experimentally, collecting the fluid that leaks from your sex, other hand giving a few pumps to his own erect cock. The sight makes your eyes water and whimper under Shaun's lust laden gaze, affection and adoration bubbling just under the surface. "Look at you...so fucking needy..." It's a low hum as you buck your hips into his hand. The pressure, the want, the absolute need to have him pounding into you is the only thing circling your brain.

"D-don't...don't be a fucking tease..." you manage to choke out though it only serves to make Shaun chuckle a little mischievously before you feel the blunt head of his cock prod at your hole. You grip the upholstey trying to push closer with a frustrated sound before he leans over you to pin your hands above your head with ease.

"No? You sure?" Slowly he begins to sink into your tight heat, too slowly but there's little you can do but try to press your hips closer. "...if you say so." And with a jolt, Shaun's hips snap forward, bullying himself inside you to the hilt tearing a lewd moan from your throat. Full, so incredibly full, your gummy walls clench and throb against the pulsating intrusion. Hunched over you, Shaun's own breathing is ragged as he's encompassed by you. Tight and slick, trying to suck him in further. With your wrists bound with Shaun's hand. The other moves to smooth up your ribs and give a pert nipple a teasing tweak that has you jolt and clench around him "Hnng...so good...hah...didn't...didn't think you'd be so reactive." Shaun pants hotly against you.

His thrusts take a slow cadence, letting you adjust to his engorged cock as it slips in and out of you- a sight that Shaun wishes he could catch on camera. Maybe a private project for another day. He's brought back to attention as your legs hitch at his hips and lock around his lower back to coax him closer.

"...faster...faster pl-...ease." you urge, flush spreading from your cheeks down your decorated throat. Capturing your lips, tongue melding with your own, Shaun obliges beginning to buck into you at a faster clip causing some of the props to rattle. Repositioning to hold your hips, leverage to fuck you in earnest your arms string around his neck. Babbling sweet affirmations under Shaun's touch as his cock pounds deep within you-you swear you can see his bulge pushing through your abdomen. Low growls and low honeyed praise is peppered between open mouthed kisses. He wants to be close to you, have you melt into his embrace as your depths meld around his cock pumping deeper, harder- the slap of his balls against you and wet sounds of sex make you almost dizzy with pleasure as it knots in your core.

"F-fuck...so tight...'m gonna..." Shaun mutters against your lips as his brow pinches and you buck your hips desperately against his, all you can think about is cumming around your cock and he wants nothing more than to fill you to the brim. You yank him down to your mouth, his teeth nipping at your lip this time as his cock throbs with a few more pumps before spilling behind you. Fucking you through his orgasm you follow him into the throws of euphoria not long after-body seizing and walls spasming around him as pleasure floods your nerves and fills your brain along with you clenching hole.

The only sound is the labored breathing between you, the sticky feeling of sweat, cum, and fake blood between you. You're basking, warm and full, in the afterglow of your orgasm with a soft satisfied grin on your lips. Shaun still plugged inside you as you relax and stroke the back of his neck before he raises his head to press a sweet kiss to your swollen lower lip. "You good...?" He asks, worried his nipping might've been too much or fucking you too rough. You huff a little laugh and nuzzle against him, arms and legs squeezing him in a body hug.

"Better than good." You hum and a rumble of a laugh comes from Shaun who kisses over your forehead and cheeksbl sweetly. Slowly he pulls out from you, cum dribbling slightly from you, whimpering at the sudden loss but the chill of the fall air wins as Shaun helps you redress. Helping to pull yourself up and pluck you from the back, Shaun's hands rest on your hips while you work to get your wobbly knees to cooperate. You lean against him, reluctant to put space between you even if you'll be side by side in the car. "Wanna just go back to my place and order something for delivery?" You look up at him with a sneaky little smirk and Shaun squeezes affectionately again, another kiss. "And maybe some campy slasher flicks?"

"Beauty and brains huh? That's the best idea I've heard my entire life." Shaun grins, walking you to the passenger side of the car and holding the door as you slide in and he closes it. Circling around to close the trunk and slide in beside you, you and Shaun begin the ride home with his hand resting on your thigh.

#somethings wrong with sunny day jack #there's something wrong with sunny day jack #theres something wrong with sunny time jack #something's wrong with sunny day jack #tswwsdj #swwsdj #sdj shaun durand #shaun durand #sdj shaun #sdj shaun x reader #shaun durand x reader #sdj shaun durand x reader

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stuckybarton · 3 years

Text

Happy Family V

Summary: The plan had been simple for Steve and Bucky to finally start a family of their own; neither seemed to realize the implications that came with meeting a woman who made them question what they would have wanted from her at the start of their agreement. They desired a child, a bouncing baby with Steve's blonde hair and ocean blue eyes, or Bucky's brown hair and baby blues, but instead received Y/N Stark, a train wreck. Characters: AU! Established Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes; Stark!Reader x Stucky Warnings: Profanities. Grammar Mistakes. English not being my first language. [Not Beta’d tho] Words: 2,166 A/N; Finally able to update this~ SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST | Join the Taglist

V: The Good, The Bad, The Okay—Time Out

“So—are you happy with your Happy Meal, Little Lady?” You asked your niece as she ate her chicken nuggets and fries with gusto. A cheese burger—which she had also requested was also waiting to be consumed.

Morgan wasn’t a handful as you had come to realize.

With the young girl on your waist as you made your way to the fastfood chain, she was quiet and obedient when out in public. Never once did she even try to throw a tantrum throughout your shared journey to the nearest McDonald’s She was more focused on getting to know you, a trait you somehow always knew was of a Stark. Curiousity killed the cat, but satisfaction always brought them back.

“Why are the Ice Cream machine always broken?” she inquired breaking you into fits of laughter, inquisitive as always too.

“At this point, even I don’t know.” You spoke honesty. Resting your chin against your hand.

You took a good look at the little girl, a part of you was thankful for Pepper for raising a well mannered and intelligent kid, far from the horror that came with being a dysfunctional Stark you and your older brother had been known to be in your youth.

“Are you staying in the company for good?” She asked.

“I’m not sure, Little Lady.” You spoke honestly turning your attention away from her and towards the window that showed the chaos of the afternoon rush of the city. A part of you always hoped to move away from New York, but there is still this small glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, your brother could change his mind. “Your father never asked me to stay.” Not in the way you wanted him to.

“Daddy and Mommy always talk about you, even with Uncle Bucky and Uncle Steve.” The girl said and you found yourself turning to look at her—the thing about kids is they are inquisitive, not capable of lying and you’ve gotten your experience with Monica to know this kid wasn’t lying when she said it.

“What do they say?” You inquired.

“About you being in another company—SHIELD or ARC?” She spoke. “They wished you would finally come back home.”

Home, the home you never thought you could make for yourself in Stark Inc, the same company your father had created from the ground up and you had once hope you could help in bringing into different heights. Your anger instead found you ruining the company and ruining everything your father had worked so hard for.

A part of you blamed your father for it, for not choosing you, but the bigger blame was on Tony that could never live up to your own potential. A spoiled brat through and through. Without either of your parents alive anymore, it was just bound to happen. No one to clean up his mess.

“I actually liked working in SHIELD.” You turned back towards the window. “I was treated like family in the company.” You spoke remembering everything being offered to you by Fury and his people. All in the good grace of Peggy Carter, the company’s Chairwoman and CEO.

Just the thought of the elusive powerhouse of a woman, from the window, you caught sight of her. She had also somehow found herself looking right at you. Blinking you waited with bated breath for anything to happen and the last thing you would have ever expected was for her to make her way towards you, inside the McDonald’s of all place.

“Y/N, it’s been a while.” There was always a motherly warmth in Peggy that you never had with your own mother growing up. Even after being named as Stark’s biggest rival, she had opened her arms for you when you started your freelance gig post-tenure with your father’s company. “And didn’t know you already have a pretty little daughter.” Her longing smile turned towards Morgan that looked too shy for her own good.

“She’s Tony’s.” You corrected with a smile. “Just thought of spending some time with her—to make up for lost time.” You spoke honestly. Never any ill towards you so you thought it was only fitting to be the same towards her.

“She’s beautiful either way, she must have gotten her look from her mother.” She snorts making you giggle and shake your head at her, you had also known about her disdain for your brother for reasons still unknown to you at this point. “Listen, I was just in the area, and I was hoping to be able to catch up with you.”

You blinked at the offer and with your instinct readining nothing to her request, you found yourself nodding in agreement.

“Let me just take Morgan back to her father. You can come with me if you like.” You spoke.

“If it’s not too much for you.”

After letting Morgan finish her meal, and taking the burger out for later, all three of you made a small walk back towards the building. You had noticed Morgan becoming too shy as she held onto you more tightly as you both made your way to reception to where the annoying receptionist had resided and the look of shock in her features.

“Hello Sharon.” Peggy smiled towards the blonde.

“Can you get vistor a pass?” You asked annoyed still at the woman that had been rude to you on your first day back.

“I’m sorry but Aunt—Ms. Carter is from—” Sharon stuttered still at lost for words.

“She’s with me, Sharon.” The familiar voice of Steve Rogers had broke everything into an even more awkward situation for you to be in.

The last thing you would want is to be in between the former husband and wife. But the tension broke as soon as Sharon had finally handed Peggy a visitor’s pass and all four of you made your way towards the elevator. Even Morgan had felt the tension in the air as she had asked to be carried by you.

“You enjoyed Lunch, Little Lady?” You asked the child, hoping to separate yourself from the pair.

“Yes. Can we do it again tomorrow?” She asked.

Your eyes turned towards Steve and knowing you had another meeting with him and the rest of the team, it would depend on him whether or not you could have lunch on time.

“You need to ask your Uncle Steve if he’s gonna give me a hard time again.” You cooed glaring at the man before turning your attention back towards the door, hoping that the elevator ride could be faster.

“I swear Steven if you’re giving Y/N a hard time, I will be more than happy to take her back to me.” Peggy had warned without even looking at the man.

From the door’s reflection, you could see the man blushing in embarrassment. If only Peggy know the extent of Rogers’ treatment towards you since you got here.

Finally arriving at Tony’s floor, you had allowed Peggy to step out first, to the look of shock in Tony’s secretary’s face.

“She’s with me, Nat.” You reassured. “I’m just stopping by to drop this little girl back to her father.”

Without even waiting for another word from the secretary, you had made your way inside without knocking, a fact that the two people behind you had noticed. Seeing Tony looking at fed up as he was just boosted your mood for some reason.

“I come to bring her back.” You smiled cuddling with Morgan one last time before placing her back onto her father’s lap. “Sam will take over the setup for today, got something I needed to catch up with.” You explained.

“Y/N, just because you’re paid favorably, doesn’t mean you could slack off.” Tony scolds but halted mid-word as Peggy and Steve had knocked and made their way inside the room. “Who let you in here?”

“I did.” You snapped. “Unlike you, I don’t burn bridges with the people I work with. So don’t call for me until I get back.” You muttered guiding Peggy right back out of the room and away from whatever snarky words your brother has planned for the woman.

“Every single day, Tony is becoming more and more like his mother.” Peggy points out as the both of you slipped right back into the elevator, neither of you missed the sight of Steve watching the two of you by Tony’s door.

“Should I be offended that you’re insinuating that I am just like my father?” you smirked.

“On the contrary, you should be thankful that you didn’t turn like that bitch of a woman—no offense.”

“None taken.”

“Is this your way of getting back at me for choosing Stark Inc. over SHIELD?” You teased but humor had become your coping mechanism now as you found yourself in the far too familiar gravesite where your mother and father were buried.

You could count on one hand the times you had visited your father’s grave. It was more than just guilt, it was this longing that you could never bring back the past and say the things you could to your illing father. You didn’t see the signs until it was too late. Peggy and her team had witness you break down when you found out about the news alongside the public—a good three days after your father died. You still resent your brother for not telling you about it.

“Has your father ever told you about our association before?” she inquired, eyes focused solely on your father’s gravestone.

“He hasn’t.” You spoke honestly. “But every single time your name would be mentioned, it’s Mom or Tony that would be quick to change the topic.”

“So he did keep his promise.” She chuckled caressing the stone before turning her eyes toward you, shocking you with teary brown eyes. The ever strong and formidable Peggy Carter now stands in front of you like this. “Before I was what I was, I chose to work my way from the ground up, just like you.” She spoke.

You nodded, knowing very well about her story, knowing fully well you had her as your inspiration for years while you had worked for your father. Fighting your way to deserve the position to be given to you. But unlike Peggy, you were never given the position that you worked your life for.

“My father wanted to give me an experience away from our company and I was lended to Howard’s company, working as his secretary.” She explained.”But I got more than experience from the company.” She chuckled bitterly before turning her gaze back towards the grave.

A part of you could already guess where this was leading to—but you wanted it to come out her own mouth.

“I fell in love with a married man and it caused a dangerous rivalry between our companies.”

You took a deep breath, knowing fully well that your father was never faithful to your mother. The arguments that you had witnessed growing up. The tears in your mother’s eyes and the lack of regret in your father’s own. It was one of the many reasons you had chose never to get married, to lock yourself in a marriage that would only end in divorce and so much complication along the way.

“I don’t hate you.” You spoke towards Peggy honestly. It was your father’s decision to cheat on your mother, and whatever relationship he had with her has nothing to do with you. “You had been good to me throughout my time in SHIELD and it was one of the best time I could ever have in my career while I tried figuring things out.”

“I want to give you a position in the company.” She spoke. “CEO.”

How you had wished those same words had been spoken by your own father. Things would have been more different then, a little less complicated than it was now. You couldn’t sellout on your father’s dying company. A part of you could never see yourself do it.

“I can’t do it to my father, Peggy.” You shook your head. “I can let everything my father had worked on become nothing.”

“Then we can wait when you are good and ready.” Peggy spoke once again turning to you, the sight of tears on her eyes finally falling had shook you to the core.

“Please let me think about it.” You spoke.

If you could save Stark Inc. in the end, if you take the position within SHIELD, Tony’s greatest rival, wouldn’t it be counterproductive at the end.’

“How long do you need?” she spoke, the desperation that lingered in her voice had you scared for her.

“I-I don’t know.” You answered nervous with what was actually going on. “Is there something wrong, Ms. Carter? Do you want me to call for Fury to help you out?”

“I’m dying, Y/N and I need to make up for lost time.”

“What?”

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dramaticvhs · 3 years

Text

part three of my favorite teen wolf fics

{ part one } { part two }

as always, CHECK TAGS BEFORE READING! <3

Move A Mountain by ZainClaw

( sterek, explicit, 69k)

Stiles goes camping with his friends in New Mexico after graduation where they befriend a biker gang led by Derek: a guy whom Stiles can’t decide if he will be either relieved or devastated to never see again once their week is up.

Horizons into Battlegrounds by AClosedFicIsNeverRead

(sterek, explicit, 15k)

Derek has always kept his distance from Stiles, refusing to act on his instinctive desire for the pale, doe-eyed human. But at what cost? When circumstances reveal the horrors that Stiles has suffered due to Derek's self-imposed distance, will the Alpha be able to make it right before it's too late?

Catalyst by KariahBengalii

(stiles/jackson/lydia, mature, 1.9k)

In which Lydia graciously invites Stiles into bed with her and Jackson and there are consequences she didn't predict.

Stray by GoldenDaydreams

(steter, mature, 16k)

Everyone knows the Hale’s take in strays—maybe it's in the hope that one day they’ll be willing to take the bite, or maybe it's just that they're pack creatures that take one look at a human without a family and immediately have to adopt them. Stiles isn’t sure which it is. Maybe it’s both.

He just never thought he'd be one of those strays.

It’s Not This Random Life Only by Cracklpop

(steter, mature, 34k)

When Stiles learns that his estranged father has died, he resigns himself to returning to Beacon Hills, a town he barely remembers. He's prepared to clean out his father's house and settle the estate. He's not as prepared for his father's mysterious girlfriend Talia, a series of unexplained animal attacks in the woods, and his own complicated feelings about what family means.

And he's certainly not prepared for Peter, Talia's much-too-tempting brother.

Give you that thing you can’t even imagine by LunaCanisLupus_22

(sterek, explicit, 10k)

The omegas came out onto the stage next, and Derek did his best to smile and shake hands with enough polite distance as possible, to avoid giving the impressionable ones ideas.

Or the one where mateless Derek thinks no omega can affect him like they do other alphas and he's about to find out he's very, very wrong.

With A Red Right Hand by Bittah_Wizard

(steter, explicit, 9.8k)

“It’s the eyes that give him away.”

An Assassins!AU that starts out slow but ends with a bang.

Return To Sender by Phlinting

(steter, mature, 57k)

Peter Hale only planned to be in Beacon Hills for a couple hours. Just like the last few visits he'd sneak in some "pack" time to avoid becoming omega by inhaling the familiar scents in Derek's loft, and then he'd quickly climb back out of the hellmouth the Hale pack had once called home.

It was the perfect treatment. No muss. No fuss. And doing it under the McCall alpha's nose without the failwolf even noticing was just a happy bonus.

Of course, Peter should have known that nothing in Beacon Hills was ever that easy…

Help Wanted (But Not Really) by reillyblack

(sterek, mature, 26k)

"Stiles, I'll clear up your confusion about the position. Derek here needs someone to live with him. He's a difficult person to live with, so I won't sugarcoat that. But his responsibilities at the company right now make it impossible for him to actually take care of himself and his home. That would be your job," Laura explained.

Both Stiles and Derek objected at the same time.

A Sliver of Sunlight by LeeBlack

(steter, mature, 37k)

The last thing that Stiles expected to see after coming into his room was Peter Hale, back from the dead and apparently sane. Well, relatively sane, all things considered.

And with everything that had happened in Beacon Hills recently, was it really so impossible to believe that, without the Alpha power trip, Peter was the sort of person who couldn't be trusted but was too interesting to be ignored?

Touch Therapy by syriala

(steter, GA, 4k)

“You’re hugging Peter,” Derek said from behind them, confusion very obvious in his voice.

“Yep,” Stiles gave back, not moving from his current position, speaking more into Peter’s hair than anything.

“Why are you hugging him?” Derek asked, and Stiles shrugged as best as he could, with his arms still around Peter.

“He just woke up from a coma. I don’t even want to think about how long he went without a hug,” Stiles gave back.

Or the one where Stiles derails Peter’s plans by aggressively hugging the shit out of him.

there’s only 11, because i’ve been busy and i’ve been at this list for a while. i swear the next one will be longer

and!!! i’ve got a “my top 10 favorite sterek fics” post soon. i’ll be posting it as soon as i go through my bookmarked on ao3.

#sterek #stydia #stackson #steter

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luckydxy · 2 years

Text

A moments respite. A rare luxury after months of utter chaos. Freshly bathed & dressed in a simple nightgown, Ara treasured the peace of Cloud Ruler Temple. The calm was strange. Ara'd become so accustomed to the horrors of the Crisis, that such an evening at Martin's side was a shock to her system. There was plenty more to face, more trials to overcome, but Martin had begged her company for the night. At least one. So she'd scrubbed herself raw of soot & gore ... feeling refreshed & warm. Pattering after him through the Temple as he sorted through his work, hardly capable of remaining idle himself. It brought a smile to her face.

The misguided hero was feeling quite proud of herself after delivering unto him the Daedric artifact he required. Though she spared him the tale of how Wabbajack came to be in her possession ... there'd be an article in the paper, surely. He'd be clever enough to put two & two together. The finer details were hardly important.

& so she settles at his table. Resting flush against the wood, chin propped on folded arms while legs swung idly beneath. Martin was explaining something of import, the details of which flew right over her head. Ara wasn't really paying attention. Simply enjoying the sound of his voice. His presence was a grounding one. An infectious calm that eased away all her worries & woes. Maybe he was right in suggesting she take a moment for herself- Ara only wished he'd do the same. He'd hardly have a moment to blink once properly declared Emperor & Crisis was averted.

She looks him over, struggling to envision him in finer dress. He'd a homely face which suited his humble robe. Not to say he couldn't clean up nicely- not at all! Martin wasn't unpleasant to behold, Ara simply couldn't picture him fancying frivolous odds & ends. Then again ... what did she know of his desires in life? He'd be entitled to as much should they survive this.

Ara's serene thoughts suddenly sour ... survive. Regal atire & whitened hair flash in her mind. A slit throat & wide blue eyes. She winces & rubs the vision away with a sleeve.

"Am I boring you?" Martin calls to her, recognizing her restlesness.

Peeking back up, Ara frantically shakes her head no, grinning reassuringly, "No! No ... I'm tired is all."

That must have been a satisfactory excuse. Martin closes the book he'd been reading aloud to her, raising a brow at the convincing yawn she gave.

"Perhaps it's time you take your rest." He comments.

Ara tries working towards another lie, any excuse to dally longer, when something new catches her eye. A moth. A strange one at that : mismatched wings were grey & teal & horribly torn. There ... on her friend's shoulder. It was making its way up his neck. Couldn't he feel it?

No sleep for you.

Ara rubs her eyes again. & her ears for good measure.

You can't sleep NOW.

Oh ... that wasn't a thought was it?

Foolish mortal brat, you thought you could rest?

"Ara?"

You thought I'd let you?

The dread is instant. Cloud Ruler Temple feeling a thousand miles away. She could almost see Him. Her Lord sat haphazardly on His mad throne ... staring her down like a hungry animal with those golden slit eyes. Ara rubs this vision away as well. Standing up & pacing in place for a moment before joining Martin's side more directly. They were practically shoulder to shoulder, Ara ignoring his bewildered gaze as she desperately sought out the moth.

Where did it go. Where did He go- Where ARE you? She thinks to herself in a hiss. Only to be met by cruel cackling & a view of the moth crawling through Martin's hair. She bats at it instantly, much like a cat- Causing the older Imperial to startle & stand himself. Ara moves to swat at him again, but Martin grabs her wrist before she could do so.

"Ara-" Martin says, more firmly this time, sounding irritable, "What are you doing?"

Wasn't it obvious? Ara can only watch helplessly as the insect crawls directly into his ear canal. Why couldn't he feel it?

"I- I'm- It's ..." think, THINK, "There was a spider. I think I got it."

The lie was fluid enough. Enough for Martin to release her & brush at his shoulders worriedly. He regards her strangely all the same.

"When have you last slept?"

NO ! SLEEPING !!

Sheogorath shrieks at such a frightening volume that Ara struggles to understand why the room itself didn't quake. Why no one else responded to the stimuli.

"I don't remember." Ara informs Martin before she could forget to respond, before her Lord could intrude on her train of thought once more. He'd declared himself conductor & it was becoming rapidly apparent that she was no longer in control.

MISERABLE MORTAL ! SPOILT BRAT !

ROTTEN. ROTTEN. ROTTEN.

"I think it's time..." Martin concedes, glancing over to Baurus, who stood dutifully on watch & looked concerned himself, nodding in agreement with Martin.

The youngest Blade approaches, nudging her shoulder, urging Ara to instinctively nod as well. She barely hears Martin as he bids her a good night ; Ara forgetting to offer the well-wishes in return before she rushes off. She needed to get to a private room. Had to. Her movements were stiff & robotic. She felt .... drunk. Had the hallway always been this long? Had the floor always been so uneven? Something was very wrong ... Ara shoos away every worried glance offered & ignores every polite word. She needed to be alone.

YOU ... You murdered JACK !!

Jack? Ara couldn't recall any Jack's. Who in Oblivion was Jack?

WABBAJACK !!

Oh.

WABBAJACK. WABBAJACK. WABBAJACK.

So He knew about that....

Of course! Every thought. Every desire. Every MISTAKE. EVERY LIE. You can hide NOTHING from Me, Little Duchess.

Ara hated that, hated when He called her that. At least she's made it to the spare bedroom. Quickly slamming the door shut behind her. Ara sinks to the floor & allows herself to acknowledge Him. You said I could do as I pleased with it! You said it was my toy to play with! Who are you to question my gam---

YOU DESTROYED IT!!

He roars in righteous fury. Ara couldn't argue ... not when He was being peculiarly ... rational. That in itself was troubling. Since when did He put forth such energy towards questioning her motives? He usually respected such shenanigans. Maybe she'd finally pushed her luck to the brink ... maybe she was blissfully unaware of the precipice she waltzed along.

Ara clenches her eyes shut & curls into a ball as He begins screaming indistinguishably. Ara beats at her own ears in a weak attempt to silence Him. It hurt. She hurt. Hurting herself wouldn't help, but she could do little else to counteract His horrific pitch. & just as suddenly as He began, He stops.

Bleary eyes look upon the bedroom. Everything was more saturated than it ought to be. The walls ... they breathed in time with her own frantic breaths. In & out in rapid succesion. Crawling with colorful insects of every variety, reminiscent of an impasto painting. Ara might have found it charming if she weren't so out of sorts. The floor soon followed suit.

This was too much, Ara decides, coming to a stand, hardly keeping balance as she struggles to her bedside table. There had to be something of use ... anything. There! A book. Not for reading, but for the breathing. She snatches up the volume & drags the spine along the floor, ignoring the beatles that buzzed past. She found it helped, albeit poorly, in providing the illusion of a more level & clear path. Ara uses this tactic to beeline to the corner washbasin. She was feeling frightfully warm ; a splash of cool water would be welcome.

Once there, Ara abandons the book & greedily dunks her entire face into the water. It felt divine. Ara holds herself under until her lungs beg for air. She wishes to deny them that release, but had little choice in the matter. Ara lifts her head, letting it fall back & enjoys how the water gathers in her collarbones & trickles down her front. Maybe she ought to look into a waterbreathing spell ... or snatch a scroll for occasions such as this.

How about a dip in the Fountainhead?

Her eyes snap open. His voice was an icepick, chipping away at her mind.

I could keep you chained down like a waterlily. Have my morning tea while I admire your BLOATED CORPSE. Doesn't that sound nice?

It did not ... Ara glances down into the basin. Realizing quickly that the reflection looking back up at her was not her own. Sheogorath grins cruelly below & begins to reach out for her- Ara denies Him. Slapping at the water with such wicked force that she assumes the red that swirls through the basin must have been another illusion brought on by her breathing, crawling, oversaturated room. This isn't the case. The water feels thick & tacky. Looking herself over, Ara finds she's drenched in blood. She gags. Shaking & miserable, Ara stammers a few steps back before finding herself on floor again. It dipped with her, as if it had become plush all of a sudden. No ... squishy. Ara's face contorts in disgust. That was a bad word. She didn't want to think about that word. Nor the textures all around that began to overwhelm. She couldn't stand up, so she curls into herself again for the time being. Shaking & rocking & feeling very pitiful indeed. Why wouldn't it stop? Why couldn't He stop?

You know why.

"I had to," she lies in harsh muffled whispers, understanding there were half a dozen other artifacts she could have sought out, understanding she chose the easiest of the bunch to sacrifice, "I had to. My home is burning- Dagon is invading. I had to!"

DAGON THIS! DAGON THAT! DO YOU THINK I CARE WHAT DAGON DOES IN HIS FREETIME!? ARE YOU DAGON'S CHAMPION? OR ARE YOU MINE!

Now that was offensive. She'd die a thousand deaths before she served the Prince of Destruction. She would cut down his armies & slaughter his followers - the Mythic Dawn were her prey. Ara would gladly deliver them unto the 'paradise' they claimed was found in death. Every last one. Sick with rage, Ara uncurls herself & glares out into the room- surprised to find her Lord glaring right back. He was sat on the floor just the same as she was. Legs hugged tight to His chest, shaking & rocking in an unsettling mimicry of her own movements. It takes Ara several gulping breaths to realize He wasn't physically there. He was held back by the full length mirror propped up alongside the washbasin.

My sweet, sweet, naive Little Duchess.

There He goes again ... Ara winces, but allows Him to continue His lecture. Watching as He runs both hands through His hair, laughing at her in a booming baritone, stamping His feet childishly to better display His distaste.

It'd be a mercy to free that empty head of yours from your shoulders. To gift your skull to Haskill as a new bookend. Did you truly believe he'd keep your conniving to himself? Were you hoping to blame him somehow?

"Of course not-!" Ara rasps out in protest, eyes widening at the very notion, she'd never do that, never, she'd only sought the Chamberlain's advice out of acute desperation, she'd promised him she'd return swiftly- she--- Ara bows her head. She .... might have forgotten to keep her word. But it wasn't HER fault there were so many blasted Oblivion gates to close!

SILENCE! Have you forgotten your duties already!? Have you forgotten your place! I appointed a new Duchess of Mania last month & oh! Would you look at THAT! MY DUCHESS IS MISSING FROM HER CHAMBERS! My realm is in shambles, my Court's are absent, & Order is knocking on the front door. All while my Champion prances around with a bastard heir & fancies herself a Hero. Have I forgotten anything? No? PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER BEFORE I RIP YOU APART!

Ara can't help but whimper. She'd no witty remark to offer, no pitiful protest, no sass nor charm to default to. Tears flooded down sullied cheeks. Don't say that. Ara wanted to scream. Don't call him that. But Ara needn't say anything at all. He was already in her mind. She'd given it to Him willingly. He was right ... & she couldn't deny Him much longer.

Madgod stands. Relishing her misery. Savoring her self-loathing. He fed off of it. It was sweet. Much like her misplaced delusions of heroics. Her efforts were wasted on Nirn. He presses His palms flat against the glass of the mirror. She needed to return to Him. She needed to continue down the path He'd carefully crafted for her. She would have no say in the matter. It'd been decided the moment she'd fallen into His hands. Delicate creature ... so lost without guidance. Without identity. He knocks on the glass. Lulling her from her pity party. Directing her attention to the nearby fireplace ; now alight with an all too familiar flame.

The fireplace holds a perfect mimic of The Flame of Agnon.

The flame which had previously filled her with such elation, such joy, such passion! Now only served as a harbinger of dread. A reminder of her deceit. She had to extinguish it, the thought came on hot like a fever, she had to extinguish it- she had to extinguish it NOW. Before anyone could see! Ara would die before she'd let them see! & so she rushes back to the washbasin, still brimming with blood, & takes it in her arms. In a careless motion she douses the flame with the entirety of the basin's contents, & stands before the steaming pit, victorious, as the teal fire sputters out.

The room grows dark. Lingering shadows stretching up the walls & crawling out from under her bed. Regret smacks her upside the head. Oh no ... no, no, no ... the light had kept Him at bay. There's a knocking at the door. Ara wrongfully assumes it's her Lord attempting to get in. Breath hitching deep in her chest, Ara now rushes to the foot of her bed, ignoring the shadowy tendrils there which dutifully grabbed at bare feet. The knocking increases in intensity & Ara wonders if it could be her own heart- spying the door wiggling, as if someone was struggling to get in, was enough to convince herself otherwise. With all her strength, Ara drags the bedframe in front of the door, barricading herself in. There! That would show Him! As if on cue, the tapping within her mirror picks up again.

Ara looks on in horror as she witnesses the depraved form her Lord had taken this time around. Jovial features & bright dress traded for a gaunt complexion & furious gaze. His suit tattered & dull, eaten away in places by the moths that lingered nearest his feet. Upon closer inspection, Ara realized they'd gnawed on His flesh, His own feet bare & bloodied. He taps on the mirror again with His staff of office ; the eye which crowned it staring deeply into her own. Once. Twice. Thrice. Unsettling gentleness before ushering her nearer with a hooked finger. He says nothing. & Ara finds this more jarring than His insistent screeching. Hypnotized, Ara can't help but approach.

"I'm sorry," She begs in earnest, whispers delicate & threatening to crack, "I'm so sorry. I had to. I had to."

He beckons her ever closer with that hooked finger, as if He wished to share a secret. Ara leans towards the mirror, but dare not take another step. At this proximity she could see that even His flesh had become dull in hue, tinged sickly blue, veins a deep & spidering purple, but there was something else .... crystalline scales, for lack of a better word, emerging from within. She could see it anywhere the moths had eaten at Him, anywhere tendons or bone should have been. The formations looked painful & there were odd lumps spiking out from beneath His shirt & pants ; leaving Ara to wonder if there were even worse growths hidden beneath the frayed fabric.

"My Lord .....?"

He lunges into the mirror. Clawing & beating at it wildly with the full weight of His body. Gaze still an empty mask of numb rage. Eyes unblinking. Again & again He throws Himself at the mirror, which begins to crack against the pressure.

"I'm sorry!" Ara chokes, finding herself unable to move, "I'm sorry, please, I'm sorry!"

Madgod continues. His moths squeezing through the cracks & fluttering around the shaken Imperial. Ara feels them in her hair, crawling up her neck & down her back, she feels them begin to nip. She's openly sobbing now, still unable to move, unable to sever eye contact with her Lord. She'd disobeyed. This she knew. He'd been rather charitable to her, all things considered, & she'd disobeyed. Ara understood the looming threat of the Greymarch, or so she naively believes, & she'd left just as the infection that was Order began to truly set in. To add insult to injury, Ara had gladly sacrificed a token of her Lord's favor to Martin. It seemed so trivial at the time, Ara knew Madgod must have a dozen more. & yet the regret was palpable. She shouldn't have done that. She shouldn't have left .... Sheogorath forgive her, she shouldn't have left!

So transfixed was she, Ara hadn't realized Baurus & a few other Blades had finally torn open the door & lugged her bedframe aside. The mirror shatters as they rush in ; Ara shrieking in fear as Baurus grasps her shoulders, the youth thinking Sheogorath himself had had enough of her & was making a move to magic her away. Back to the Isles. Back to the Court of Mania. Back where she belonged. But the spell was broken. There were no moths, nor blood, nor shadows. Her Lord was nowhere to be seen & the room was still rather bright, despite the extinguished fireplace, of which was damp with simple water. Ara shakes & screams nonetheless, fighting off her companion with loose fists & meek vigor, intermittently tearing at her own clothing or swatting at her hair in the off chance a flesh-eating moth remained. Baurus responds by clinging on all the tighter, voicing his concern loudly into her left ear. She can't hear him. She can barely see those who rush around her- asking what was wrong. Asking why she'd broken the mirror & locked them out. Ara doesn't understand. Couldn't understand. She struggles against Baurus as he steers her away from the broken glass that littered the floor. Taking her from the room & into the hall where one voice finally breaks through to her. Martin.

Ara is uncertain what he says, her hysteria making it difficult to decipher what was happening around her, but the tone was unmistakable : brotherly concern. As to be expected of 'Brother' Martin. He's warned away, but remains firmly planted where he stands.

"A nightmare-?" Ara loosely comprehends.

"Some nightmare..." the voice behind her responds.

She hears her name next, though context is lost on her, as is the source. She can't breathe. She can't see. She can't breathe. Someone wraps something warm around her shoulders & urges her forward again. Ara struggles onward, but not for lack of trying this time. Instinctively hugging the heavy fabric around her shoulders, realizing it was crimson in color. Her hood. She pets it, hugs it tight, running shaky fingertips along the embroidered ivy trim. Clarity was returning ... slowly but surely, her senses followed suit.

Next she knew, Ara was sat before a different fireplace. This one was much more grand & the flame a more typical hue. A large shadow spoiled the view, making her wince. Kneeling down as not to startle her further, Ara realizes it was Martin. She can see him now. Brow furrowed with deep concern, his hair a bit of a mess & getting into his eyes. Those eyes haunted her. Ara'd never had the heart to tell him how much they reminded her of his father's.

"Welcome back." He comments simply, appearing pleased to have finally met her eye. Ara looks away ; ashamed & disoriented.

Martin carefully peels her fingertips from the fabric of her hood, replacing it with a small pewter cup. Ara spies its contents : thick & syrupy. There wasn't much, but the odor was pungent & disarmingly pleasant.

"Please drink ... it's medicine." He explains before she could ask, "It will help you sleep."

Ara wasn't so certain she wanted to sleep anymore. Dreams weren't her Lord's domain, but she knew He'd find any excuse to return & torment her. Even now she felt His eyes. Felt His looming presence in her own shadow. Ara found it increasingly difficult to differentiate His feelings from her own. His rage. His fear. His grief & anguish. It was becoming hers. But why? What was it He actually wanted from her? What was she meant to understand?

"Drink." Martin's voice pulls her from the darkness once more. Ara obeys, glugging it down without any further thought on the matter in a single shot- getting it over with. He takes the emptied cup from her hands & sets it on a nearby table. Ara spies the shadows that danced around them with terrible suspicion, settled only by the clink of armor. It was just Baurus. Dutiful as ever in his watch. She could hear lowered voices in the next room over, muttered concerns. Ara frowns deeply at this.

Martin takes the change of expression as another promising sign ; she'd been staring blankly at their suroundings for several minutes now. He pulls up a seat of his own & joins her in her silence. He usually had something to say ... some words of encouragment or comfort. It struck her that he was at a loss. Had she frightened him? The anxiety of the thought strikes her sharply, deep in her heart. Ara looks up to him, he looked so tired. She glances back at his table, stacked high with tomes & scrolls. He'd as much on his shoulders as she, if not moreso. Guilt wears her down ... slouching in her seat, she struggles to speak up. Struggles to explain. It hurt to lie, so she crafted her words into careful truths.

"I'm sorry ..." She begins, wondering how many times she'd need to plead with such pitiful empty words in a single night, "I'm really sorry. I don't ... feel myself."

He chuckles weakly, a saddened, airy sound, & shakes his head. She can sense a dozen questions on his mind. He takes his time ... running a hand through his hair as he slouches forward as well. Hands folded atop his lap, observing her carefully before deciding upon a single question ; one that was heavier than the rest.

"How did you acquire Wabbajack...?"

It feels like a slap in the face. Ara goes pale. HE KNOWS! HE KNOWS! Her own inner voice screams this time. Looking numbly into his eyes, Ara, for once, finds herself at a loss for words.

"To expose oneself to Daedric influence ... is a risk you never should have had to take. I hate that I've asked this of you." He continues, "We've asked ... so much of you. I pray you find peace at the end."

Don't. She wants to say. I'd do anything you'd ask. Anything to make you proud. Anything to do good. The words stick in her throat like a sickly sweet lump of honey - burning on its way down. She hadn't done good. If he knew the things she'd done ... If he knew about the Isles. Ara swallows, eyes going heavy for the first time in days as the sweet release of sleep claws at her mind. Whatever Martin had mixed, it was potent. It was doubtful she would even dream ; something he must have taken into consideration. Weary, Ara droops, unable to fight off the medicine much longer.

"Martin?"

"Yes ...?" His voice is an echo, his frame appearing distant despite how she's slouched against him.

"I'm tired now ..." She slurs, forgetting his queries altogether, savoring the comfort of his presence after such an eventful evening, grateful her Lord had once again left her to her own devices, for now, "Don't leave."

#;;drabble #;;save #Oblivion Volume Two ;; The Strange Door #in which martin be knowing without actually knowing how deep of shit ara is actually in #this is a long one lads :') it's been a while so forgive me if my pacing is choppy #also please anticipate me reblogging this a dozen times #idk if it needs any tw's so ask to tag i suppose #i've read this over a dozen times & it's making me dizzy so hopefully i caught any & all spelling mistakes. if not? ssssshh. secret.

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