#I was surprised I remembered all the songs!

[alastorthirsty]

Alastor Hands You the Aux Cord - Alastor x f!reader

Anon asked for: Hello! Love ur work :) Alastor x f!reader fluff & heavy smut inspired by the song “soaked” by shy smith???

Honey, you got a lot more than you bargained for, and even then I¨m not quite sure that I did it correctly. Alas! I hope you enjoy it either way. So sorry this took so long, it was an undertaking.

Summary: I suck at these so just be patient and kind. Reader was a radio/sound engineer in life and begins to work with Alastor rather closely.

Dividers by @konatasoup

Warnings: Listen, we all know Alastor is a Bad Man(tm). In this story and many, many others, Fucked Up Alastor is going to say Fucked Up Things. Alastor is a sentient red flag. I would like to kindly remind you that you need to carefully decide whether or not that's too much for you before you begin to read. I'd hate it if you read and got triggered by some possessive or otherwise red flag dialogue/prose! If it’s not for you you can simply block me and avoid my other fanfiction. You're responsible for your own reading experience! If smut is not for you, this is not for you. Other warnings include briskets, sandwiches, p in v intercourse, I don't know, standard fare, Alastor is a deeply jealous and possessive man, colleagues to lovers, Alastor’s fluffy, fluffy ears are an erogenous zone I don’t care lalalalala

Words: 9521

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It would be VERY helpful for your reading experience if you listen to the provided music! If the response is good there will be a part two :)

SMUT

Masterlist

It was the sensible thing to do, and took surprisingly little effort to get him to agree. All you said was that radio lived on in your lifespan, nearly one hundred years after his death. You asked if, in life, he would have happily adjusted to innovations in radio technology, and you remember the way he looked down at his claws, all tightened into fists that slowly unfurled. He begrudgingly admitted that he would have.

“That type of microphone you’ve got there wasn’t invented until after you died,” you pointed out.

Radio had been your life’s passion in the living world just as it had been for Alastor. You began in university as a DJ, then changed your major to reflect your newfound love. You started off with communications engineering in undergraduate studies and moved on to wireless communications engineering. Twelve years of your life, you had dedicated to radio.

You were the perfect candidate, and best of all you could make yourself obsolete by teaching him what he needed to know, so it was a win all-around. Kinda. It remains to be seen what he would do with you once you became obsolete.

You did, however, strike up a friendship. Alastor would admit readily that you were a good sound engineer and constantly upgraded his equipment. He would also admit, not quite as readily, that speaking to you was pleasant. You never batted an eye while he ripped apart souls, which he found surprising at first, but when you pulled out a sandwich to eat whilst he did so it elevated to…cute. He typically hates things that are cute.

Okay, fine, you’re cute.

As time passed, you grew more comfortable with each other. Sometimes you even offer him pre-soul breaking sandwiches, and Alastor eats them simply because they were offered by you. He has no idea what a “PB&J” is, only that whoever created it must surely be living amongst you all in hell. He always eats them, though. Every last morsel.

Then something quite remarkable happened. Alastor sat you down after an unusually long broadcast, took the pistachios that you offered him, and gave you the best gift you had ever received.

“Only one,” he said, poking your chest several times. “One song of your choosing at the end of my broadcast. Do you understand?”

You remember nodding so hard it almost hurt.

You had tried not to seem too enthused, so as not to betray your true excitement to your finicky friend, but shouted joyfully into a pillow when you got to your hotel room. You rolled all over your bed, still screaming into the pillow, and spent the rest of the night curating various playlists for the post-show tunes.

The two of you became inseparable. When you weren’t on air, you were still working together on scripts, advertising campaigns, marketing strategies, even merchandising, a pencil stuck through your hair, sandwich wrappers discarded haphazardly.

‘I got my soul ripped apart by the Radio Demon and all I got was this fucking shirt’.

You’re more excited about this than him by far, but it was becoming harder and harder to deny you a thing. He’s always criticised Vox’s use of petty merchandise to belittle him, but this was different. Entirely.

It had been a rather destructive day in the radio tower the first time you played a song. There were three soul rendings today, so everything but you was covered in blood and viscera. Alastor, with a small smile, offered you his staff, and explained all you had to do was play a song on your phone while holding it.

It felt special. It almost made your cheeks warm, but that crisis was thankfully averted and you chose a tribute to radio itself as your first ever post-show track.

‘Radio, someone still loves you.’

Alastor didn’t look particularly happy with what he’d heard, but he did give you an amused little pat on the head before taking his staff and leaving the radio tower, still covered in blood.

You remember all of that fondly and take a bite of your sandwich. Alastor takes one bite of his and goes feral.

“Calm down over there,” you chastise. “It’s just pastrami.”

He swallows. “You know my feelings about brisket, darling.”

“Well, I’ll bring you more pastrami in the future, then. Maybe I’ll even make you a brisket someday.”

“Yes, you should,” he almost snaps. “And I’ll have no more ‘peanut butter’, by the way.”

“Do you like the almond butter better?” you ask, offering him another sandwich from the basket you brought with you

“…I prefer the pistachio and cashew one.”

“Okay, I’ll find more of that,” you say before passing him a napkin. You sigh and grab the clipboard set to the wayside. “No souls today.”

“Yes, I am aware,” he says.

“Isn’t that less fun for you?”

Alastor ponders over his answer for a moment. “It is more fun to murder. However, not having one or more to murder also means that no one has challenged or crossed me. That is better in the long run.”

“I can see that logic.” You nod, then go back to the clipboard. “Oh, I can’t be here on Saturday.”

His expression sours and his eyes narrow. “And why is that, darling?”

You smile at him, arms up. “I’m going to Lu Lu World!”

“What in the world is that, darling? Wait a moment.” His eyes narrow anymore. “It has nothing to do with that circus freak does it?”

You purse your lips and tilt your head, staring at him. “You’ve lost me.”

“The hell I have. I find it absolutely unacceptable that you would leave work behind in order to prance around in an amusement park.”

“I don’t plan on prancing, so we’re good,” you say. You wrinkle your nose and chuckle a little at his steadily souring expression. “Tell you what. I’ll make you that brisket.”

“Two briskets,” he’s quick to demand. “No, three. Three briskets, and I’m not sharing with the others like you made me do on Beignet Day.”

“That was never meant to be just for your enjoyment!”

“Well, it should have been!” he snaps.

You laugh again and fold your hands over the clipboard. “I will miss work on Saturday to be escorted around Lu Lu World by its namesake and you will receive three briskets at a time of your choosing. You’re in for a treat, I make the best brisket. My husband loved it.”

A pregnant silence fills the radio tower.

“I find it equally unacceptable for you to have a husband. No, no more of that,” he says finally.

“I’d like to think I’ll find love again someday!” you say, laughing.

He huffs. “Is it a date?”

“Is what a date?”

Alastor rolls his eyes. “Your petty little outing to the amusement park with the circus freak!”

“He’s the King of Hell, not a circus freak!” you exclaim.

“If he doesn’t want to be called a circus freak he should dress like an adult male,” he says.

At that, you sit up straight, arms folded, and stare at him. “Do you really want to go there? Making fun of how he dresses?”

“My manner of dress is unimpeachable! Everything is just so!” Alastor gestures at his suit, then narrows his eyes again. “You will not marry him.”

“Marriage isn’t on the table, I’m just visiting his park with him. It’s closed for the day, no one but us! Oh, but also you can’t tell me who I can and can’t marry,” you say.

“There will be no marriages at all! We have work to do, important work!” He closes his eyes, touches his forehead, and growls. “Do not sass me.”

You take another bite out of your sandwich. “So I won’t be here Saturday.”

“…Fine. I can go back to the Stone Age for one damn day.”

You groan. “I’m glad no one else knows of your flair for the dramatic.”

“And you’d do well to keep it that way,” he says. He holds up three fingers. “Three briskets. I want them all at once.”

“I don’t have the time to do them today, as you said, we have important-ish work to do,” you say.

He eyes you again. “Three. Briskets.”

You throw your hands up. “Fine! I hope you get a tummy ache!”

“I will not! I will enjoy the briskets and be fine!” Alastor adjusts his butterfly tie and stands up from his chair. “And you will make up for lost time from your Saturday outing.”

“No I won’t,” you say. “I’m under no such obligation to work every single day with no breaks. I just haven’t had anything better to do in a while.”

Alastor’s hand smacks against a panel. “No! You’re to work with me every day, that is the arrangement! Good god, woman, you are so insolent today. All of hell listens to these broadcasts. I do not know how to do what you do. You have made yourself necessary and now you want to cut and run so you can have intercourse with that circus freak in a hall of mirrors.”

You tilt your head back and laugh.

He looks unamused by this. “What? What is it? Why are you laughing?”

“I suppose I’d better fuck him in the hall of mirrors, then, if you think the opportunity presents itself.” You wipe your mouth with a napkin and put everything else in the garbage for Niffty to collect.

Alastor’s ears flatten. “I do not like you today.”

“Nah, you adore me.” You look closer at the agenda for today and begin warming up the necessary equipment. You pull on your headphones “Thirty seconds, Al.”

He nods and repeats it back to you. “Thirty seconds, Al.”

By the end of the show, you’ve already got your topical track selection queued up. Alastor stands up and stretches before giving the staff to you and rifling around for more sandwiches in the basket.

‘They come running just as fast as they can ‘cause every girl crazy bout a sharp-dressed man’

You lip sync along, not realising you’re being watched. Alastor smiles to himself and waits for his staff to be given back to him. When it is, he almost remarks about your Saturday outing. Almost.

In your bedroom, you stretch and yawn. It’s late and you need to be with Alastor relatively early, so you go about your nightly routine. Brushed teeth, silky pyjamas, all lotioned up, feeling amazing. That is, until you walk back to the area with the bed. You scream and jump, but your surprise is quickly replaced by anger. Alastor laughs from his comfy position against your pillows.

He points at you. “You are the chicken in this relationship.”

You get in beside him and try to shove him out of the bed, chuckling as he easily resisted. “What are you doing in here?”

He’s still laughing. “I came to collect you! Emergency broadcast.”

You groan loudly. “Absolutely fucking not!”

“Yes!” He wraps an arm around you and drags you up from the bed. “It won’t take too long.”

“Who the hell pissed you off this much that you have to do this right now, at two in the morning?” you asked.

The answer makes your stomach drop.

“Husker!” he says excitedly.

You flail. “No. No! No, Alastor, you can’t do that!”

“I assure you that I can,” he says, now picking you up and carrying you towards the radio tower. “Husker’s soul is mine to do what I want with it, and he knew that before he started making trouble tonight.”

“Alastor!” you shout. “Put me down!”

He looks confused, but carefully sets you down. There are tears on your face that confound him. “What is the matter, my dear?”

“You can’t kill Husk.” You wipe your eyes and sniffle. “You can’t. I know you can in the literal sense of the word. I know that you can, but you can’t, please, I am begging you not to do this. Please, Alastor.”

“Do not mourn for him,” Alastor says. “No one mourned him in life.”

“I think that’s not true,” you say, but take his hands, squeezing them. “Just, just tell me what he did. I’ll fix it. I swear, I’ll fix it.”

Alastor looks down at your hands, so much smaller than his, trying to calm him down. “You really care, hm?”

“Alastor, please, please,” you whisper, squeezing his hands again. “Alastor, don’t do it. I have never asked you for a thing and I never will again if you just please don’t do this. Please don’t kill him, he’s my friend. He’s a soul in the bank for you, but he’s my friend.”

He’s quiet for a very long time, watching your breakdown. You know how it looks. He hates weakness, he hates vulnerability—

Alastor puts his hand on the side of your face and pushes hair away. “Okay, darling. If you want Husker to keep dusting bottles and consuming their entire contents, then that you shall have.”

You feel embarrassed all of a sudden and wipe your eyes. “How about I make you a brisket instead?”

“No brisket is required,” he says. “If you want it then you will have it. I am a man of my word. I will find other means to discipline Husker.”

“Don’t hurt Angel,” you say immediately. “Please. They’re all afraid of you already, you don’t have to do anything to keep them in line. I don’t know what Husk did, but I don’t believe it warrants his death and it definitely doesn’t mean you can do something bad to the only thing he loves more than booze or gambling.”

“Okay,” Alastor agrees.

You blink. “I know it’s not that simple. What do you want?”

“Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?” he asks.

“Me? Personally?” You think for a moment before shaking your head. “No. But—“

“I’ve never given you a reason to doubt me,” Alastor says. “I have worked with you closely for months now. I do what I say I will do. If you want that damned cat and his spider to live and be unharmed then I will give you that.”

“What do you want in exchange? Don’t say my soul, I’m not giving it.”

“No, not your soul,” he says. “A simple deal.”

You stand up straighter. “A deal? What?”

“I let Husker and the spider go unharmed and you will in exchange never have intercourse with the circus freak.”

Your arms cross. “Alastor, that’s fucked up.”

“I know!” he says warmly.

After a moment, you reach your hand out towards him. He takes it in his and squeezes it, gentle and warm. You’ve seen his power, the green flashes of light.

But there are no green lights. His tentacles remain hidden. The floor doesn’t shake.

It wasn’t a real deal, but you said nothing about that. This was all very strange, and you didn’t know what to make of it. Taking his hand, you give it a pull.

“Come on,” you say. “Let’s go on air anyway. Come.”

He tuts at you. “Rather bossy tonight, my dear.”

“I’ll make sandwiches,” you offer, and he nods.

“Yes, you will make sandwiches—pastrami.”

‘I am just living to be lying by your side but I'm just about a moonlight mile on down the road’

Once Alastor takes the staff from you, he notices that you’ve fallen asleep in your chair. He rides the dark with you in his arms, depositing you safely into your bed.

The next night, for some reason, Husk makes sure your dirty martinis come with two olives and no complaints.

“You will go away from the hotel.”

You look up from your phone, your feet up on one of the panels you’ve been working on. “Excuse me?”

Alastor is stern, serious. His eyes betray no laughter, not a single joke. “You will leave the hotel.”

“No,” you say immediately.

“The Extermination is exactly one week from now, and you will leave the hotel. You will go someplace safe.”

“No,” you say again. “No, hell no, I’m not leaving you all by yourselves.”

“You would be more of a hindrance than help,” Alastor says, and ooph, that one hurt.

“You don’t even know how to defend yourself,” he continues.

“I’ve been doing my best,” you say.

“And that is not good enough, darling.”

Your chest falls and rises. “So you think I have nothing to offer to protect my friends and this hotel?”

Alastor pauses for a moment. “No. I know for a fact that you do.”

“Then what?” you ask. “Why do you want me to leave?”

Again, a few moments pass in silence before Alastor sits beside you. “You would trade something very precious to save this hotel and all of the fools who reside in it.”

”What? What is it? What am I going to give up that’s so special?”

“Your life,” he says. “If you are here, you will sacrifice your life in a trice just as soon as you see someone else is in danger. And I cannot have that. You will leave, this is not a request.”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head. “No. This is my home. This is where I work. This is my family—“

“You will listen to me now and you will listen good,” he says gravely. “I can protect this hotel and kill Adam or I can protect you. Those are the choices. I trust you will not make the selfish one.”

You close your eyes and let out a deep breath. You feel a cry coming on, but head it off at the pass. “What about you?”

“What about me, darling?” Alastor asks. “There is no way for you to help me. You know that.”

“I’m going to look like a coward,” you say.

“I do not care,” he says. “And you shouldn’t either. My priorities are to kill Adam and to protect you. Therefore, you will leave to someplace safe and you will wait for me to come for you.”

You scoff. “Where’s safe? Where’s safe during an Extermination?”

“They are coming to the hotel first and we will not allow them to go any further. You will be safe where I send you and you will stay there.”

Then he does something he’s never done before. Alastor pulls you into his embrace. “You have no idea what I would do to save you. No idea, you stupid, silly girl. You must go. You must.”

“Okay, okay,” you say finally.

“I could give or take almost anyone else in this boring little hovel of a hotel, but I can’t give you. I won’t. It’s very likely this radio tower will need some manner of repair. Who else would do it but you?” He holds you a little tighter.

You close your eyes and lean against him. “I really don’t want to leave you.”

“Because you are an idiot.”

At that, you start hitting him anywhere you can, but the two of you dissolve into laughter.

Eventually, you sigh. “When am I leaving?”

Alastor hums. “Tonight.”

“What?” you look at him again. “Why tonight?”

“I will have time to prepare. I won’t spend days worrying about getting you to leave. It is better that I have this time to focus,” he says. “I will take care of everything. Think of it as more of a vacation than anything else.”

“I won’t, but thank you,” you say. “What will you tell everyone?”

Alastor tilts his head. “About what?”

“About forcing me to leave the hotel because I’m apparently too weak and stupid to fight for it,” you say.

He tsks and shakes his head. “I do not care. Neither should you. But I suppose I will just tell them approximately one-quarter of the truth.”

“Which is what?” you ask.

“That I put my foot down and wouldn’t allow you to die for any of them.” Alastor rubs his face against yours. A confusing gesture, but not altogether out of place, given the tenor of the rest of the interaction.

“I don’t want to die, but—“

“But nothing,” he says. He gives you his staff. “Play one last song.”

You wince. “Okay, grim. No. I’m not playing a ‘last song’.”

He huffs. “The last song until next week, when all of this is over.”

“When all of this is over…” You lean back in your seat, tapping the staff as you think. “Can you…can we hop on the broadcast? For a while? Make it my last proper show until all of this is over?”

You swallow, your throat feeling tight.

“No, darling,” he says. “Not this time. Pick a good song.”

‘Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me! Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me! Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me! Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me!’

Alastor stares at you strangely throughout the entire song. He never once tries to take the staff away from you, not even during the repeated profanity—something that was forbidden. He says nothing of it when the song is done and he takes his staff back into his possession.

“Come.” He holds his arm out for you and you take it. You let him lead you out of the radio tower and you become unsettled as you descend the steps.

“Alastor, I don’t like this,” you say nervously.

“And neither do I,” he says as he guides you to your hotel room.

“Where are you sending me?”

He suddenly stops you once you’re inside the room, his clawed hand coming down to grip your shoulder. Hard.

“Alastor,” you chastise.

His grip only tightens. “I made a bargain for this and you will not piss it away.”

The night crashes down on you in the quiet of your bedroom.

“But where? You made a deal?”

“No, not a deal. More of a…trade which does not benefit me at all, save for it keeping you safe.”

“Alastor, where?” you ask, softly yet firmly.

“In an underground bunker beneath Rosie’s Emporium,” Alastor says finally. “No one would ever think to look there, not with all of Cannibal Town at the hotel, stupidly giving their own lives. Those lives mean nothing to me, nothing at all, but yours is something precious.”

“I’m just your engineer, you know.”

Alastor huffs. “No, you’re not.”

You lift a brow. “I’m not?”

“No.” He pauses. “You also make sandwiches.”

With a little laugh, you nod. “Pastrami.”

“Indeed. Pastrami. Now, pack up, darling. I’ll escort you to Cannibal Town. No, no one will try to eat you. You’ll be with my dearest friend, Rosie. You will be safe with her. If I had any doubts I would send you elsewhere.”

“Okay,” you say softly. “It’s going to be boring without you.”

“I, on the other hand, will finally know peace after six months.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

“Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me.”

You laugh far too hard for it to be so late at night, but Alastor is smiling genuinely.

For a tenth of a second something changes. The way you look at each other…

“So,” he says, sitting at the foot of your bed, one ankle over his knee. “Have you been abiding by our agreement?”

You pull a suitcase from underneath the bed. “Which one? There are new ‘agreements’ every day.”

“Intercourse with Lucifer,” he says flatly.

“Oh Alastor, come on. What if he and I were in love?”

He just glares at you, darkness in his eyes.

“I haven’t seen the man in weeks!”

“Aha!” He points at you. “You would do it if given the chance, wouldn’t you?”

You tilt your head. “Why do you care so much, Al?”

“Because I want to separate him from all possible joy,” he says. “There’s no chance of doing that with Charlie, but I will deny him you.”

“You’re so fucking weird.”

“Shut up and pack.”

“Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me.”

Alastor picks up one of your pillows and throws it at you.

The extended visit with Rosie would be nice if every moment didn’t bring you anxiety so crippling that it cramped your stomach. She was kind, a gracious hostess, and she didn’t ask any prying questions, so neither did you. You were curious about the ‘trade’ Alastor had made for you—for you…

You leave every day for food, because you just cannot trust the provenance of anything in Cannibal Town, no matter how kind Rosie is. You listen to Alastor’s sporadic broadcasts and feel vindicated in how shitty it is without you. Gives you a smile. It sustains you to know that this man still needs you.

On your third day of going out for burritos, you receive a text message that makes you grin, fills you with joy you haven’t felt since you were yeeted from the hotel.

‘New ducks, want to see?’

The second you text back yes, a glowing portal opens and a hand yanks you inside.

“Lucifer!” you cry out happily, hugging him close.

He returns the embrace readily, arms tight around you. “I’m so glad you agreed! Here, let me show you the duck workshop.”

You smile and let him guide you. You and Lucifer just..mesh. It’s always been easier to talk to him than virtually anyone else. For as much as you listen to him about ducks, he listens to you about radio, as long as you don’t mention Alastor. That’s always been an unspoken understanding.

Lucifer rambles happily all the way to the workshop and you happily listen. Once inside, he gives you a little tour. The place is quite literally filled with rubber ducks of all different kinds—there was even a set of KISS ducks.

“This is my latest work,” Lucifer says, showing you a row of little ducks. He picks up one. “This one has wings just like mine! Well, you can’t currently see my wings, but that’s what they look like. There’s six, they’re red, that’s…pretty much it…”

He sounds strangely nervous.

“And this one’s Charlie…”

Yes, nervous.

“Maggie,” he says.

“Actually, her name is Vaggie,” you correct him.

“Oh, golly!” He covers his eyes with his hands, his face turning red. “I’ve been calling her Maggie every time and Charlie never corrected me.”

You chuckle softly. “It’s fine, I’m sure it’s fine. Don’t worry about that.”

He peeks at you from between his fingers. “You really think it’s okay?”

“Charlie probably just felt too awkward to correct you. You know how she is.”

“I hope so,” Lucifer says. “This one is the porn star. He shoots webs!”

You laugh when he demonstrates. “That’s so cool!”

“And this one,” he picks up one of the ducks gingerly, “this one is you!”

You gasp at the attention to detail and laugh joyfully. “That’s so cute, a little me!”

“She has a little radio and everything. And—“ Lucifer presses a button on the underside of the duck and the radio starts to play from its mouth. He looks at you with a wide grin and elbows you gently a few times. “Ah? Ah?”

You laugh again and clap. “Bravo, you outdid yourself. I never thought you would outdo the back-flipping rubber ducky that spits fire.”

“I surprise myself all the time,” Lucifer says happily, placing your duck back down beside his. “Do you have time for a drink?”

You laugh. “Honey, I’ve got nothing but time.”

“Good!” He takes your hand and guides you out of the workshop and through the halls until you arrive at a lavish lounge. He gestures for you to take a seat. “What’ll you have?”

“Oh, whatever you’re having, please.”

Lucifer pours two whiskeys and sits in the chair across from yours beside a fire that emits a cool breeze.

“Thank you so much,” you say when he hands yours to you.

“It’s nothing,” he says. “Charlie told me…you left the hotel.”

You take a deep breath. “Yes, I did. I’ve been staying in Cannibal Town.”

“Why did you go?” he asks softly.

Now you sigh, hoping to keep all emotion from your voice. “Alastor thinks I’m more of a hindrance than a help and wants me to stay away.”

His diamond pupils constrict. “What an asshole.”

“He needs me to help repair the radio tower, when all is said and done.”

“You’re too good for this, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

Lucifer takes a drink. “I mean you’re too good to work on a show that’s just screams and crappy puns. That guy is a clown. You should host your own show.”

“Oh, I haven’t been on air in like…fourteen years. I don’t even know what I would talk about or play. I like being an engineer. It’s cathartic to me. Alastor might not have the most exciting show around, and he’s absolutely horrible, but it’s…hm, I’ve made it sound really bad, haven’t I?”

“Why do you give that guy your loyalty? Why do you feel so beholden to him?” he asks.

Your focus softens. “I…we have a good time together. I think. He likes the sandwiches that I make him.”

“I can almost guarantee that this loyalty means nothing to him,” Lucifer says. “I’m not saying that to hurt you.”

You sigh. “Yeah, I know Luci.”

“Why do you stay, then? Is he paying you?”

“Actually yeah, in a way he does.”

Lucifer cocks a brow and motions for you to continue.

“Oh, he just gives me things, not money. He doesn’t, uh, properly believe that hell should have a currency system. In his opinion it should all be bartering, like soul deals. Therefore, he barters with me. I give him sandwiches and briskets and engineering services, he gives me…just about anything. Last week he gave me a ruby necklace that must be worth a few thousand dollars.”

“You give him briskets?”

You nod. “Oh yeah, there’s always some brisket action going on. He doesn’t know it yet, but there’s a venison brisket in the works.”

“So you work together, you make him food, he gives you expensive jewellery?”

“Other things too, but yes.” You nod again. “That’s the gist. We have a good back-and-forth, but my favourite is getting to play music at the end of his broadcasts.”

Lucifer smiles softly at you. “Those are the only parts worth tuning in for.”

Your face lights up., a big grin and bright eyes. “You’ve heard?”

He nods. “Yeah. I try to catch it. The last one said fuck a lot.”

You laugh, head back against the chair. “Yeah, it did.”

“I’ll give you a radio station of your own. Be his competition,” he said.

Now you sigh. “I actually do like to work with him a lot. He’s…he’s not all bad. He’s always done right by me.”

Lucifer scoffs. “That won’t last. You can’t seriously rely on that to stay stable. Just as soon as he decides he doesn’t need you, he’ll get rid of you. Somehow or another. He’s just…one of the worst sorts of sinners, and he’s proud to be the way that he is. And you? You’re hardly like a sinner at all. I always seem to forget it.”

It’s hard to hear those things about Alastor, even harder because you know they’re probably in some way true.

You’re lost in thought until you hear him repeating your name. “Oh! So sorry, million miles away.”

“Let me get you another drink. Do you want something other than whiskey, maybe?” he asks, sounding somewhat insecure, a little tremor in his voice. “W-what do you normally take?”

You play with a rubber duck on the table and hope it doesn’t spit fire at you. “Dirty martini, two olives. Sounds weird, giving the king of hell a drink order.”

“Nonsense!” Lucifer comes over with a little drink tray, all cheerful. Sweet. He looks so happy that it warms you.

“I should see you more,” you say. “You’re fun to be around and I love ducks.”

He gives a nervous laugh and sits down, passes your drink to you. “You should definitely see me more! Gosh, that would be terrific. I can make you so many ducks!”

“What are you going to work on next?” you ask.

He winks. “I’ll keep you apprised.”

You wink back, smiling. “I’ll be waiting.”

God, there was nothing you wouldn’t give to be on air with Alastor right now. It hits you, causes a slight tremor in your body.

Lucifer gasps. “Are you okay? Is it the drink? I don’t actually know what a dirty martini is so I…May have poisoned you?”

“No! No!” You laugh and shake your head. “No, the drink is fine. To make a martini dirty you just put a bit of olive brine in.”

“Let me try again,” he says, but you stand and stop him.

“Luci, no, really, it’s okay,” you say. “Promise. See?” You drain the contents of the wine glass he had served the ‘martini’ in. Your lower eyelid gives you away, though.

“Oh God,” Lucifer says, hand covering his eyes.

You pull it away gently. “It’s okay, Luci.”

You stay that way, eyes on each other, for a moment that stretches indefinitely.

By the end of it, Lucifer kisses you. Hesitant, gentle. His hand reaches the back of your neck and by now you’re kissing back. Things are happening quickly. Somehow you wind up on one of the couches together, your back to the cushion, him on top of you…

Oh, no.

You break the kiss and sit up. “Sorry. Sorry, Luci. Sorry.”

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks in rushed voice, a slight shake to it.

“No.” You rub your eyes and smack your forehead.

All you could think of was Alastor. The little promise you made in exchange for Husk’s life. You doubted that he would actually kill Husk if he found out…but you couldn’t handle how…he would react.

“Lucifer, I…” But you couldn’t tell him that Alastor was the one keeping him from getting laid.

“I don’t understand,” Lucifer says. “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you say softly, squeezing his hand. “I can’t help but notice you’re still wearing your ring.”

“Oh, is that why…? Oh, no, sweetheart, no, I just…Lilith isn’t going to come back to me. I can take it off, it’s just hard to when it’s been…such a long time, being married. I can take it off, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

You squeeze his hand again, gently. “It’s time for me to leave.”

“Oh…Okay,” he says softly. “Yes, of course. You don’t have to stay, just…I don’t want this to be the last time I see you.”

You smile at him, trying your best to instill confidence. “You’ll see me again. Show me to the door?”

“No, absolutely not,” he says. “It’s dangerous! I’ll take you back to Cannibal Town. That’s also…pretty dangerous, you know.”

“Not for me.” That you can say with confidence of your own.

“Come on.” Lucifer reaches for your hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do it again. Just take my hand and I’ll bring you back. You don’t even know where you are right now.”

Well, he’s got you beat there. You squeeze his hand one more time. “Okay. Let’s go.”

You close your eyes for this part.

When you hear a whispered goodbye, you open your eyes and you’re standing before the Cannibal Town gates, alone.

“Do you think that you walk freely all throughout hell, not a care in the world, for no reason?”

Your whole body tightens at the sound of his voice. “Have you just been standing there waiting for me to show up?”

“Not quite,” Alastor says. “Answer my question.”

You sigh, eyes rolling hard. “I’m sure it’s because of you.”

“Correct! So you’re at least that smart.”

You trudge out a path set to finally get you the illusive burrito. “Alastor, I’m not in the mood. I’m hungry, I’m tired, and my absence is definitely noticed at the hotel.”

He appears in front of you. “And how do you know that? Who told you, hm?”

You sigh. “You know who I was with?”

Alastor’s claws grab your arm and then you’re in the radio tower. It nearly knocks the breath out of you and you collide with one of the panels.

“God!” You wince as your knee crashes against a sharp corner. “Hey asshole, I thought I wasn’t allowed to be here! I am so sick of being yanked around today! All I wanted—“

“I ask so little of you,” he interrupts.

Your jaw drops. “Are you serious? You? Ask me? For little?”

“The only commitment I have ever asked of you is not to have sex with that fucking man!”

“And I didn’t!” you shout before pulling out your phone. “Here, see? He just wanted to show me new rubber ducks that he made. And you know what? Mine was adorable, and she played radio when you pressed her button.”

“Am I supposed to understand this innuendo?” he asks, his voice rising.

“I didn’t sleep with him, Alastor! I don’t know what else you want me to say! I almost did, I would have, and it’s all your fucking fault that I didn’t. Someone expressed interest in me and I couldn’t act on it because I made some fake pact with you over it. I should have, God knows I need it.”

“Oh do you?” Alastor steps closer, but you don’t back down.

“Yes!” you yell. “Yes I do, but the only fucking thing I ever do is go on the goddamn radio with you!”

“Such a horrible fate!”

You cover your face with curling fingers. “Take me back to Rosie’s. Take me back to Rosie’s, Alastor. You don’t want me here, remember?”

“Of course I want you here, you fucking imbecile!”

Your anger ebbs slightly. “You do?”

“Yes! I want all of the things you do and I want them all the time! I tried to make my own sandwiches and everything! I was self-sufficient before you, you know. I never needed anyone for anything, then you walked into this hotel and insisted your way into my life, wrecking it up as you went!” Alastor takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself, trying to calm himself. “So now that I need you and go to great pains to keep you safe, you tell me that you want to sleep with that little blond gremlin?”

“How were the sandwiches?”

“Dry and uninteresting!” Alastor grabs you by your arms. “God damn you!”

“What? What?” you yell. “What do you want, Alastor? As far as I can tell, you got me out of the hotel, out of your way, right where you wanted me to be. I was going out for a fucking burrito because I can’t trust the food in Cannibal Town!”

“I advised Rosie very carefully about your dietary preferences,” he says.

“Well, hell, thanks,” you say in a much quieter tone. After a moment, you go sit in your usual spot. “Why did you bring me here, Alastor? My name must be mud around here.”

“No, it isn’t.” Alastor sits across from you. “They just blame me, and that is fine.”

“I really think you two should put all this behind you,” you say.

“The two of us? We won’t be putting anything behind us, darling.”

“Actually!” You point at him. “I was talking about you and him. The guy you call a circus freak, a blond gremlin.”

“Ha! No. Try again, dearest.”

You just roll your eyes and rub your temples. “I’m seriously so hungry and so tired. What do you want to hear?”

“I—.” Alastor cuts himself off. “You. And I…it’s your fault, all of this is your fault!”

“Okay! Fine! It’s my fault. Now what do you want to do?” you ask.

Alastor jerks you up from your seat and kisses you, hard. You feel his fingertips fan over the tops of your shoulders, drumming once before holding tight.

It’s so absolutely stunning that it takes a moment to respond at all, but that doesn’t seem to slow him down. Your heart beats so hard in your chest that you can almost hear it, and, oh, damn, this is what had been missing, fulfilling a craving that you had never known. This was what blood was for, what hands were for, why breath existed.

His hands move lower down your body as the quick seconds pass like butterflies all down your skin and to your bones.

You pull away just to catch a breath and his whole body tenses.

“What?” you ask, panting.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No, Al, not even a little bit. Just couldn’t breathe, blood’s all rushing.”

Alastor’s fingertips trail deliciously above your belly. “Do you know what I want?”

You swallow, lips pressing together. “Tell me.”

His thumb traces down your throat now. “I want to possess you so completely that you forget all but my name.”

His lips follow the path of his hands, surprisingly soft and warm against your neck. “Everything about you was made for me. Everything. I am never letting you go, do you understand me?” His tone was gravely serious, but with an undercurrent of…love. Yes, it was love, yearning and…maybe a bit of uncertainty. He could not hide that, not from you.

“Let’s go to my room,” you say quietly when he pulls away, and in an instant you’re there. Everything looks the same, thankfully. You go to the bed and sit at the foot of it, leaning back on your elbows.

Alastor comes and stands before you, just looking down, watching. When he finally moves, it’s to put both hands underneath your shirt and push it up, every bit of skin revealed covered in goosebumps. He slowly pushes the shirt up and up until your arms lift and it comes over your head.

“Why are you choosing to do this now?” you ask as he works on your bra.

“Because you said that you needed it and I take your needs very seriously,” he responds.

“Whoa.” You grab at my hands. “No, it’s not just me, you have to be into it too.”

Alastor laughs suddenly. “How about I show you how ‘into it’ I am? Kind of you to make certain, darling.”

“I don’t ever want to make you feel like you have to, because you’re…”

He plays with one of your exposed breasts thoughtfully. “You are kind for that, too. Perfect, really. Darling, I do whatever feels good, in all things that I do. This is good, I have simply never felt that way before you and your goddamn radio expertise and your fucking sandwiches and, oh, the briskets.”

Alastor sighs and moves on to the other one. “I have never wanted this before, and that is meaningful to me. It isn’t all I want, but I want you in all other ways so much that it makes me crave you. My hands on your body, your hands on mine. I’ve waited long enough to know that I am certain. Are you?”

“You are a discovery,” you say. “You unlocked things I didn’t realise were there. I want you badly.”

“It’s not just what the spider calls ‘general horniness’?”

You pull him down and kiss him several times before responding. “No, it isn’t. If it wasn’t specific to you, I could just as well bedded Luci. I had every opportunity earlier tonight. But I was always going to turn him down. I did so because I thought of how disappointed and angry you would have been.”

“You’re goddamn right I would have been,” he says as he climbs over you. “So perfect, just for me…”

You like the weight of him on top of you. He’s careful not to squish you, but it feels so warm and solid. There’s a shiver up your spine as he touches you, as this coat and shirt brush against your breasts. You go to card your fingers through his hair and accidentally brush against the base of one of his ears and you can see the physical reaction, the little tremors of pleasure, the moan of an ecstasy promised.

“Okay?” you ask gently, doing it again.

Alastor nods quickly. “Yes, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

You played with his ear while his tongue, lips, and teeth made their way across your throat and neck. The higher you went, the more aggressive he got, leaving little nips and bites everywhere.

You push him when you decide more clothes have to come off—his in particular. He looks confused for a half-second before you’re carefully removing his coat. You place it carefully on a chair near the bed, but almost rip the shirt off of him.

He gives a little huff of laughter. “Eager, are we darling?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you say, hauling him in to kiss him again.

You love the feeling of your bare chests pressed together. Alastor’s breathing starts to come more quickly than before.

It’s you going after his neck, this time. You can hear something strangled in his throat, the vibrations of it against your lips. “You don’t have to hide anything from me.”

“Forgive me, darling. I am new to this.”

“Is it the very first time?”

He hums. “Technically no. Once, when I was a teenager, a very long time ago. I barely remember it at all, but I know it was nothing like this.”

You smile against his neck and nuzzle softly. “Doesn’t matter, you’ll know what to do.”

“I have every confidence in us both. We know each other on a professional and emotional level of intimacy, I doubt physical intimacy will be the thing that does us in.”

“It may be a bit early days, but I hope nothing ever does,” you say.

He cradles the back of your head to keep your lips close to his neck. He huffs. “Early days, my ass. If I was not sure about you I would not have started anything. If any part of you is unsure, I will make it sure. I promise that I won’t be a regret.”

You kiss your way down the side of his neck. “Lucifer would have been a regret. You will not be.”

He huffs. “As gratifying as that is to hear, please do not mention the circus freak during physical intimacy ever again. Or ever again in general, if possible.”

You laugh softly and hold him close. “I’ll never mention him in this context ever again, I promise.”

“I am much obliged, my love.” Alastor tugs at the jeans you’re wearing, but, having no experience with such garments, he doesn’t seem to realise they have to be unzipped first.

You reach between your bodies to help him out.

“Such complicated garments,” he says beneath his breath.

“No more complicated than yours! Your trousers unzip too, don’t they?” you ask.

“It is called a double standard, darling, and as per usual, unfortunately for you, it works out in my favour.” Alastor gets you down to your underwear and plays with the elastic waistband. “I would like to make something abundantly clear to you, darling. I will give you this one last chance.”

“For what?” you ask, kissing down his neck, the tip of his ear between your fingers. You feel it twitch.

“No, no, stop that for a moment, darling,” he says, so you do. When you’ve stopped and he’s got you looking at him again, he continues. “For just a moment, while you listen to this. I am telling you right now that you are reaching the point of no return. Once I have taken you, you will belong to me for eternity. That is not a hyperbole, it is reality. I will never allow you to leave me. Along with that promise, I promise to keep you safe, always, just as I am now, even if it means temporarily being away from me. I promise to love you. I promise you will want for nothing; everything that is in my power to give you, which is exhaustive and far-reaching, any little want or need you have, I will give it to you.”

You smile at him. “I don’t have as much to offer, but I’ll be the best damn radio engineer, the best damn brisket-maker, the best damn friend, and the best damn…”

“Mate,” he supplies.

“The best damn mate, I’ll be that,” you promise.

“You accept?” Alastor asks, and when you nod, he kisses you hard. “You are perfect. So good. And you understand? Completely? You have no doubts? Because there will be no other appropriate time to feel them. This is a permanent arrangement that you should not take lightly.”

“Trying to talk me out of it?”

“Trying not to be a regret,” he says, and it makes your expression warm.

“You aren’t and you won’t be,” you promise. “You were the answer to all the questions I didn’t know I was asking of myself from the moment I met you. I didn’t know, but it was always there, and now, like…I don’t know how to describe it. There’s not a lot of blood flowing to my brain, you know.”

He chuckles once and nods. “Then I will not ask you again. It is settled now, is it?”

“It is.”

“Good.” Alastor hooks his thumb into the elastic of your underwear indelicately and pulls them down and off your body.

You don’t even know how many naked people Alastor has seen. It’s possible he hasn’t seen another person naked since the first time with someone, so many years ago. He seems to know exactly what he’s doing, though.

“Well, now that the matter is settled.” Alastor lifts you up and places your head on a pillow. “There is something I have wanted to do since I met you. It was a strange craving, something that should have warned me of what was to come.”

“What’s the strange craving?” you ask, but rather than answer verbally he rolls his tongue between your leg, right against your clit, and you moan rather loudly with surprise.

Alastor laughs quietly to himself. “Enjoying yourself, darling?”

“Ohhhh God,” was all you could manage.

He licks your clit again before his tongue dips inside you, and when it does, Alastor elongates it—this shocks you, causes a gasp and a full-body shiver. You never thought such a thing was possible, and it’s certainly…a new experience. He rubs at your clit with his thumb while his tongue works inside you. He keeps your legs apart with his broad shoulders, tongue massaging against your walls until he reaches a spot that makes you scream. He laughs softly against your flesh and you’re panting now.

“Alastor…” Your legs tense up around him, muscles straining. He’s moaning against you as he works your body like he owns it, and maybe he does now. Your thighs tense around him and you…you’re getting louder.

“Is there something you can do about the noise?” you ask, even though you hate stopping him.

He keeps rubbing your clit while he speaks. “I can. But I will not. Louder.”

Alastor goes right back to it, his tongue working you hard, and he forces you to get louder just from the way his tongue moves against your walls.

“Oh, fuck…Oh, Al, don’t stop, please don’t stop…yeah…yeah, like that, like that…” Your breath comes in harder and harder, faster and faster, until you’re screaming, until your thighs are aching, until your pussy is so overstimulated that he pulls back with an enormous grin on his face.

He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, but mercifully only briefly. “Tell me when I can take you.”

“Just a moment,” you pant. “Not a long wait, just a few minutes.”

“Very good,” Alastor says. “I’ll take other pleasure from other parts of your body in the meantime then, darling.”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “You do that, Al. Fucking hell.”

His tongue swirls along your nipple. “Yes darling?”

“You really took that one from the soul,” you say with a soft, shaky laugh. You nudge his shoulder. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“You’re sure?”

You nod a few times. “Yeah, yeah. Ready to go.”

You press your back down against the blankets, your head flat against the pillow. Alastor kneels between your knees and shoves them far apart, making plenty of room for himself. You’re silently grateful that he still seems to know exactly what to do—you’d gladly teach him if you had to, but it was so much better this way. He takes himself in hand and rubs the head of his cock from your clit and down, watches your muscles involuntarily jump slightly, a wide smirk on his face. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his shadow cast upon the wall, the elongated horns, that starving grin.

“I see you’ve noticed him,” Alastor says, entering you all at once. “Keep your eyes on me, dear. Pay him no mind.”

“You consider him separate from you?” you ask, your body adjusting to the size of him easily.

Alastor, however, does not seem to be having such an easy go of things. There is a look of concentration on his face, his lip between his teeth. It takes a moment for him to reply. “I consider him an echo of me. I’ll warn you now, I do not know how conversational I will be from this point on.”

“All the same,” you wink at him. “It’s not your conversation I’m after at the moment.”

It takes almost no time at all to get loud for him again, but this time it wasn’t just you being pleasured. This was a new world for Alastor and he was lost in it, captive to it. His hands grip at your hips as he fucks you harder and harder, the mattress shaking beneath you. Soon the headboard smacks against the wall and you thank God there’s no one on the other side.

“Al!” You hook one knee around his waist. “Al, please, deeper.”

He grabs your other knee and pulls it around him so he can get a better angle. He moves to whisper in your ear. “You feel so soft inside, like velvet. So warm, so hot…like that little pop of heat when you stand with your back to a fireplace…”

You moan loudly, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter around him, the sound slick and obscene. You can hear him curse, how his hips snap faster and faster until he finally spills his seed in you, fucking you through it.

Alastor’s damp forehead connects with your shoulder and you can feel his breath coming harsh against it. His hands soften their hard grip on your thighs and fall away, moving up to your waist, your ribs, one thumb against your nipple.

You play with his hair, with one of his ears, but it doesn’t seem to rile him up again, which was good, because you didn’t want to be told to stop. You turn your head against his and kiss his hair.

“Okay?” you ask after a while.

Upon hearing your voice, he lifts his head and then himself off of you. He crashes on his back beside you, his arm coming up around you, pulling you to him.

“I am so…so grateful that it was you,” he says. “I am grateful to have you. Forever. You and I will create a home next week, here at the hotel. It is well within my power to do. It can be any way you like. You should jot down ideas while you’re at Rosie’s.”

You groan. “I have to go back to Rosie’s, don’t I?”

“Yes, my lovely,” he says. “You will still reside at Rosie’s for the duration of this week until the Extermination is through and we are free to do as we please. We do not have to go straight back into radio. Maybe…we take some time to ourselves. It will be well-earned.”

“You’re going to need a break in general,” you say, pushing sweat-slicked hair out of his eyes. “You’re doing so much for all of us. I can’t believe you’re going to kill Adam.”

“Believe it, my love,” he says softly. “Believe me. This is our future.”

“I do believe you. I trust you,” you say. “And I’m sorry for being so bratty about being sent away. I am effectively useless in any type of fight scenario. I would hold everyone back.”

“You would sacrifice yourself too easily. I never said those things to hurt you, I said them because I feared what would happen to you.”

“I know,” you whisper. “I know.”

[nashyuck]

Dangerous

(Idol x reader, hook up, nda, tds3, foreplay, oral sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names, obsession)

Summary; Imagine the face y/n made when she realized an NDA was right in front to her face. What was a first-time VIP Nctdream experience, turned into amazing sex with Jaemin.

warnings; mature content MINORS DNI!

_____________________________________________________________

Ticketing for Nctdream was the most stressful experience. Y/n spent all of her lunch break anticipating how ticketing would go, as she is a high school teacher who had a whole class during ticketing. To her surprise, she was able to get VIP tickets to Nctdream, for both her and her best friend.

"Talk about stressful, I'm surprised that none of my students questioned the random movie day on a Tuesday"

"Those should be the last of your worries, we're literally seeing our men in 1 month," Ali said, she and Y/n had originally met at an Nct cup sleeve event years back and remained close friends.

FORWARD TO A MONTH LATER

"oh, I'm so anxious, they'll be able to see us, what if I get called backstage"

"oh lord if you get called backstage jaemin will get the best head ever" Ali added as she and Y/n laughed.

Making those comments was normal amongst the two, as it was all for shit and giggles not that they actually believed that they would be given the chance to jump any of the dreamies bones.

Upon arrival at the venue, Y/n and Ali were given early entry as they obtained VIP access.

"OH MY GOD, Jaemin is so fucken hot" y/n whispered to her friend. Not wanting for the others to hear.

______________________________________________________________

Jaemin was never attracted to any of his fans, and he never considered hooking up with any of them. Unlike his members who liked to hook up with women at every stop during tour. They claimed that it was for stress relief.

That was until he spotted a girl in the crowd looking at him and turning to whisper something to her friend. He was curious as to what the gorgeous woman with the top so low whose tits were basically out for him to see had possibly said to cause her friend to giggle.

Throughout the concert, he couldn't help but be drawn to this woman, to his luck during Poison performance he was placed right in front of the beautiful girl.

Making eye contact with her the whole time drawing her in, causing his eyes to go dark and be filled with lust. She smiled at him biting her lip and observing Jaemin's movements. He felt himself start to harden. Eternally grateful that they were given a 3-minute break for an outfit change.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"bitch jaemin was basically fucking you with those eyes girl," Ali said.

"All alright let's not be dramatic, in my defense he was set in front of us and the song was giving fuck me vibes" Y/n was undeniable that Jaemin would ever even consider letting her jump his bones.

The rest of the concert was a blur, y/n only remembers crying and dancing. The concert had ended, y/n and her friend got their belonging and headed towards the exit as they were stopped by security and guided to an empty room.

"This is starting to scare me, why are we still here is 12 AM," Ali said as she felt extremely sleepy and anxious.

A man who appeared to be part of the TDS3 work crew entered the room. He was wearing a TDS3 merch shirt, some sunglasses, and a baseball cap.

"Someone has requested for a conversation with you" the man said looking straight at y/n.

"That being said your friend will be dropped at her chosen destination, however, we ask for you to remain in this room, till he arrives and speaks to you about paper work" the man continued.

Ali felt unsure, leaving y/n behind in an empty room waiting for a guy who was a stranger felt worrisome.

"I'll be fine," y/n said insuring Ali that she'd be okay.

After Ali's departure, 5 minutes later the door opened and a tall muscular man appeared in front of y/n.

"Jaemin......... I'm not understanding why am I here?"

"Don't worry baby, I will explain everything and we can set boundaries together" Jaemin's smile was contagious and comforting.

He set various of papers on the table sitting across from y/n.

"darling have you ever signed an NDA?" jaemin questioned.

"I haven't but I've heard about how NDAs work"

"if at any point you feel uncomfortable, please let me know and we can stop, I will make sure you get home safe and no further contact on my behalf will be given," Jaemin said grabbing y/n's hand.

after 10 mins of reading the paper work, y/n knew exactly what the purpose of this was. She had two options, not signing the NDA and missing out on amazing sex with Jaemin or signing the papers and letting Jaemin do whatever he desired with her body.

Y/n did what any other horny woman would have done, she signed the papers and gave them to Jaemin with a smile on her face.

"Looks like you're coming home with me tonight princess"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ride to his hotel was quiet, Jaemin didn't say much but kept his hand on y/n's thigh. Pushing it closer and closer to her core. Causing y/n to heavy breath.

In the blink of an eye, y/n was on her knees begging for jaemin to let her touch him.

"So desperate for his dick, look at you basically salivating and I haven't even taken off my pants"

His eyes were dark and full of lust.

"I knew you'd be desperate but never imagined how turned on you'd get just by being on your knees".

he was so attractive, how can one not get turned on.

"On the bed now, and on your way there take off all your clothes, tired of seeing those on you"

Geez was he so hot as her observed y/n undress leaving nothing but her panties.

"look at those tits, I know you wore that shirt on purpose to get my attention, well guess what it worked," Jaemin said undressing and hovering over y/n. God were his lips soft, and easy to bite. Tongues fighting for control, causing a mess.

Jaemin shifted his lips to y/n's neck, down to her chest, nipple, stomach, and finally her inner thighs.

"You can be as loud as you want baby, my next-door hotel neighbors are the members and I'm sure those assholes are fucking a fan as we speak"

Jaemin's kisses were soft but felt like fire on y/ns skin.

"fuck please Jaemin"

"let's not be greedy baby" Jaemin said as he removed y/n's panties to get a clearer view of her body.

"look how wet you are, bet you taste just as good as you smell"

he was a tease, brushing his fingers against her fluids. He loved hearing her gasp and whine for more.

"fuck baby you taste so fucken good, so addicting, how am I supposed to continue the tour without this pussy"

he continued to eat her out, inserting two fingers.

"FUCK JAEM........."

"that's right baby cum in my mouth" those words sent y/n over the edge and she came all over Jaemin mouth.

He lifted himself up, licking his fingers and smirking at the mess he caused just with his mouth.

"want daddy to fuck you, baby? want me to cum inside you, to claim this gorgeous body of yours"

He was so fucken attractive, the same person who goes on stage as does aegyo for millions of fans, has the most dirty mouth and thoughts. He was so hot!

He hovered over y/n aligning his dick with her hole.

"If you want me to stop just tap me or tell me, okay darling"

Y/n nodded giving him the signal to enter.

As they both gasped, y/n squeezed around Jaemin.

"Fffucck baby, keep doing that and I'll cum fast"

he started off slow but continued to increase his pace, his thrust began to feel rough hitting all the right spots making y/n see stars.

"JAEM you feel so good" y/n whined

"you like that huh, you like it when I'm fast and rough"

"Yes Yes Jaem cumm inside me please"

He was rich enough to impregnate a woman so he never worried about an accident happening. The thought of a mini jaemin was his dream, however, all prior girls were scared of that type of commitment despite knowing his wealth.

"So tight FUCK" jaemin moaned as he released inside of y/n.

"If you're scared of getting pregnant we can run to the store for a plan b but if you're like me who doesn't give a shit and is ready for a baby quit your stupid job and go on tour with me"

"you don't know me, why would you even consider having a baby with me" y/n claimed.

"for starters, you're gorgeous and I can't imagine myself ever being so addicted to another pussy besides yours, you smell and taste so good, I can fuck you all day and night''

"I will consider it," y/n said checking her phone, it was 2 AM. Jaemin and her had been fucking for 2 hours.

[rafesbangs]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ brat!lamb!reader teasing rafe about how desperate he is to fuck her... until she's the desperate one.

warnings: MDNI ! 18+ ! semi-public? (its just a backyard), fingering, teasing, kinda dom!rafe, language, possessive rafe i guess. wc: 1.1k

a/n: really getting back into it hello. i think this might be the first time i'm really happy with something i've written whew,, ENJOYYY

it was a sunny afternoon, you were laying out in a lounger next to the pool in a frilly white bikini that barely left anything to the imagination, sunglasses adorning your face as you fiddled with the braids in your hair. music softly played in the background as you marvelled at the view of the glistening water.

it had been scorching hot for a few days and you'd finally decided to take advantage of the pool in the backyard. you were the only one home, thankfully, you couldn't stand your parents nagging at you all the time and now they could only do that over text in a completely different time zone.

on account of this, you had your phone on silent (who wants notifications interrupting songs anyways) so you didn't take notice to any of the messages of your boyfriend had been sending you the entire 2 hours you'd been outside.

rafe knew you were home alone so of course to him only one idea came to mind when he woke up this morning and remembered your parents had finally left for two weeks. he'd texted you a few times simply hinting at wanting to see you but after you hadn't been replying for an hour, his texts grew a little desperate and worried.

2 hours later he's pulled up to your house and rapping on the front door, something else you unknowingly ignored. frustrated he finally decides to walk around the length of the house and enter from the backyard gate. to his surprise, and relief, there you were, humming to music without a care in the world.

he grinned as he watched your warm body lay steady, the sun was gleaming down on you, he would easily have described you as an angel to anyone in that moment. but his frustration came bubbling up again.

"y/n." he said gruffly, stalking over to you on the lounge chair, you slowly lifted your head at the sound of your boyfriend's voice, glad to hear him until he opened his mouth again. "i've been fuckin' texting you? where's your phone."

you raised an eyebrow and reached under the lounge chair, pulling your phone from the shade. there on the lockscreen you scrolled through all the texts, momentarily glacing back up at rafe every few texts as he stood there, fists slightly balled.

you sat up, stifling a giggle, "someone's happier than me about my parents leaving.."

"why's your phone off" he snapped, frustration bubbling into anger at your laughing. your brow furrowed at the tone he was attempting to use with you.

you crossed your arms, "rafe are you really gonna try and speak to me like that after the way you've been begging to fuck me for the past two hours?"

his jaw ticked, he knew you were completely correct. he swiftly sat down on the edge of the chair, his body inches away from yours as a hand reached out and snatched your phone.

you watched him carefully, now getting angry yourself, how could he just snatch something of yours off you like that?

and then you glanced down at his khaki shorts, it was impossible to miss, you didn't know how you hadn't before, they were completely tented. a smug grin made its way across your lips, he was soo sexually frustrated that he was getting angry over everything now. cute.

as he was busy changing the settings on your dnd, you slowly and carefully reached over and started palming him through his pants. he jolted at the touch and snapped his head to look at you, relief but also shock in his eyes.

"you've never been good at communication.." you smiled sweetly, rolling your thumb over his tip through the fabric. he twitched a little then threw your phone down and grabbed your hand, using it to pull your entire body towards him so your lips were just grazing his.

"don't you ever forget to reply to my texts." he lowly said, looking into your eyes intensely. unfortunately for you, his gaze was absolutely irresistible, like looking into heaven itself.

you didn't waste any time in pressing your lips to his while practically crawling into his lap and he wasted no time in pulling the bikini top aside to cup your perky tits. he grinned into the kiss, heat engulfed your body as he pulled you and close as he could.

he wrapped his strong arms around your waist and re-adjusted you on his lap, you could fully feel the extent of his frustration. he doesn't breaks his lips from yours, pushing his tongue past the seam of your lips, entangling his tongue with yours.

"you want me just s'much as i want you, don't you baby" rafe rasps against your lips as a hand slinks down your body and to the centre of where the heat is pooling. you groan as his fingers swipe across your folds through the thin bikini bottoms before he yanks them to the side.

he teases your wet pussy before slipping two long fingers inside, parting from the kiss to see your reaction at the intrusion. you gasp, mouth agape as he grins mischievously, "look at you, so pretty around my fingers."

"please..." you whine, gripping at the bicep of the arm that had your body trembling. he just grinned, jamming his fingers harder into your weeping hole as your breathing got increasingly heavier.

you couldn't take the lack of control, the lack of the release you were begging for, leading you to start fucking yourself on his fingers. he just scoffed and pulled your head in by the nape of the neck to continue torturing your lips.

finally, your legs began to twitch, pussy clamping around his thick digits. "you gonna cum for me pretty girl? cum all over my fingers? hm?" he coaxed as you frantically nodded, digging your nails into his arm, begging.

rafe nipped at your bottom lip, dragging it out a little with his teeth before releasing it and whispering into your ear, "i know baby, i can feel your nails digging into me, come on, cum all over my fingers f'me"

your eyes roll back as you groan, "oh shit, oh rafe!" white light clouds your vision as your face falls into the crook of his neck, he slows the pace before dragging his fingers out of your soaked cunt, bringing his hand up to his lips and slurping your juices off.

he kisses the top of your head before re-adjusting your bikini for you, "mm, made f'me" he mumbled with a satisfied grin. he gently slides your body back onto the lounge chair before stripping his shirt off and slowly stalking over to the edge of the pool.

"wait rafe, what about you?" you question, still a little out of breath.

he turns with a smirk, locking his gaze on yours for a moment, "we've got ages baby, your parents aren't around are they."

[oddwalkerduckarts]

Grassland Romance AU: Winter Winds

Summary: You've been slowly falling in love with Sylus, a strange outsider who joined your tribe some time ago. You haven't been able to pluck up the courage to say anything. However, when you are caught alone in the fiercest blizzard anyone can remember, it might not be up to you anymore.

AO3

CW: AFAB reader, no use of y/n, pet names (sweetie, little huntress), blizzard, hypothermia, hunting, nude spooning, 90% fluff by volume, sexual themes (but no sex), not proofread, melodrama (god so much melodrama).

Word count: 8k

Notes: poor Luke and Kieran have to be dogs in this AU.

“Don’t be stupid,” you scoff, “how can lemmings foretell the weather? Their brains are the size of grass seeds!” The bay mare you’re sitting astride shakes her head, before pawing through the watery, heavy snow on the ground to reach the hidden grasses underneath.

Today, as with most days, you are minding the herds with your friend Cota. The two of you are practically sisters, as her family had raised you after your parents perished when you were a young child.

“I’m not the one who said it!” She protests, leaning back to aim a kick at your foot succeeding at knocking it out of your stirrup. “I’m just telling you what Elder Shikigur said, and he said, ‘There’s too many lemmings moving, there will be a large storm coming.’”

You groan. Blizzards are a continual hazard of grassland winters. Harsh winds are able to scream across the treeless landscape with terrifying fury, tearing through even thick winter deels, and whirling snow into a blinding haze. Preparing for one means rounding up the flocks, reinforcing yurts to hold against wind and snowfall, and digging out of the yurts once the storm is through. They’re critical jobs that need to be done. That is, when the weather actually calls for it.

“It’s practically spring!” You argue, gesturing wildly to the half-melted pasture around the two of you, “It’s so damn warm, that I couldn’t even wear my thickest deel today! I would’ve been covered in sweat!”

Cota shrugs, “I’m just telling you what the elders were gossiping about.”

“Well, regardless of what they say, I’m not taking out my winter deel again until next winter.”

“I bet you would if Sylus asked you to.”

You feel the color rise in your cheeks at the sing-song tease, and the mention of his name.

You aim a return kick at Cota’s leg, but she reins her mare to the side in time to evade you. “I would not! And besides, he’s out with some of the others hunting pheasant, anyway.”

Cota’s smile grows wider, “Oh ho, so you’ve been keeping track of which hunting parties he goes with, huh?”

An irritated groan leaves your throat as your friend laughs. “Aren't you supposed to be heading back about now? I'll tell the elders you've been slacking to sit around and gossip.”

“Aw, don't pout! It's cute, all your pining. You're going to have to do something soon though, otherwise some other girl is going to catch his eye at a festival, and then what will you do?”

“I’m pretty sure you're supposed to be helping with cooking right now, aren't you?”

Cota makes her own irritated groan, “No one likes when I cook anyway!”

“Better that than you sitting here and teasing me.”

She makes a rude gesture at you, and you return it.

"Fine,” she grumbles, “but keep an eye on the weather, okay?”

“Of course, I'll let you know if the lemmings are oracles or not.”

Cota rolls her eyes with a scoff, before reining her horse around and trotting back to the village. It’s good timing, you notice the right side of the herd has started to splinter a bit, and needs to be rounded back in.

As you go about your job, you can’t stop your mind from pondering over your relationship with the strange man.

Sylus had come to the tribe as an outsider a few years ago. Strong and skilled in both riding and archery, he’d been welcomed into the fold immediately, seemingly to his own surprise. His striking appearance had immediately caught many eyes; tall, broad and strong in the chest, with eyes the color of freshly-spilled blood set in a devastatingly handsome face. The one criticism you heard of him was of his curt, reticent nature, that meant he constantly had a severe expression on his face.

Well, almost-constantly.

Within a month after joining the tribe, there had begun to be problems with a particular wolf picking off sheep in the night. It had always seemed to know where to attack, far enough away from any of the herders that it was impossible to reach him in time. It even managed to evade the vigilant Bankhar dogs, who kept constant watch on their flock, and rarely let a wolf’s presence go unpunished. The predator managed to evade everyone. Everyone except Sylus.

It had only taken two nights of Sylus on guard, before he returned in the early morning light, with the giant, tawny corpse of the wolf thrown over one shoulder. He’d managed to kill it, in the dark, with a single arrow to its skull. The entire tribe had celebrated that night; an end to the nights of doubled watches in the dark and lost sheep. Wine and kumis had run freely that night, along with music and dancing in the center of the temporary village.

The wolf’s body had been set aside, to be skinned for the fur and used as linings and blankets to guard against the frigid winter months. Even in death, it still looked fierce, its fur sleek and body corded with lean muscle that reminded you of its killer. You had bent down to examine the bared teeth, sharp and white against the pale flesh of the gums. You reached out to draw your finger over one of the fangs, curious to see if it would be sharp like a knife, or blunt like one of the Bankhar dogs.

“Disturbing the dead?”

The deep voice, close enough to feel against the back of your neck, had you stumbling backwards, and gracelessly falling on your ass. A throaty chuckle came from above your head, and you had looked up to see Sylus, his face smug and scarlet eyes dancing with laughter.

“It doesn’t count if it’s a wolf,” You grumbled, pulling yourself off the ground, “ass.”

His head was cocked to the side as you rose, finger tapping his cheek in mock-thought, “I thought a wolf was supposed to be the father of the first herdsmen? Wouldn’t that make this creature here your cousin?”

“That’s an old story, no one believes that.”

His answering smile was sharp, eyes darkening into a sneer. “Is that so?” He drew closer, close enough that you could feel his breath on your face, and feel the fabric of his deel brushing against yours. The gaze he cast down made you realize what a cornered sheep must feel like in the moments before jaws close around its throat. “I think there’s more of wolves in people than you realize.” His growl was just as deep as the dogs when they scented a threat.

A part of you wanted to shrink down in your boots, make your excuses, and flee. But, a much larger, louder part of you was indignant. How dare this man sneak up on you in the dark, make you fall over in surprise, then have the audacity to growl at you like a beast?

So you had tipped your chin up defiantly, “Better be careful. Apparently even the cleverest wolves get arrows in their heads.”

He had stared at you for a moment. Made a single blink. Then a strange, amused smile curled across his face. “Are you going to be the one to fire it, little huntress?”

“If you don’t back up, maybe I will.”

Sylus chuckled then, backing up a few steps. You released a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, body thrumming with… anxiety? Excitement? Both? You couldn’t tell. To distract yourself, you turned your attention back to the kill.

“It’s kind of a shame, really. It’s a pretty creature.”

His head cocked to the side again, though the curiosity in his eyes seemed to be genuine this time. “Feeling bad for the predator?”

“He was just trying to live.”

He huffs a small laugh through his nose. “You’re cute.”

“Excuse me?” You look at him, deeply irritated at his patronizing tone.

“Most animals that steal livestock are weak. They’re sick, or injured. Otherwise it just isn’t worth risking the tangle with dogs or people. This one,” he gives the corpse a nudge, “was perfectly healthy. Strong. But instead of using its smarts to take on saiga, or capercaille, it decided to take the easy way out. It never would have stopped, once it knew that it could fool the shepherds.”

You had sighed a little, knowing that in this instance, he was right. “I know. It still seems like a shame. But at least we’ll stop losing so many sheep.”

You had looked up then to find Sylus staring at you with such intensity that you had taken a step backwards. “What?”

He blinked, the intensity dissipating as quickly as a strike of lightning. “Nothing, sweetie.”

“Sweetie?” Your nose wrinkled at the childish nickname.

He gave a small laugh, a mischievous glint coming to his blood red eye, “You feel pity for a predator that would have snapped you up in an instant. It’s very sweet, if maybe a bit naïve.”

“It sounds like something you’d call a toddler.”

“I suppose it does,” the glint was quickly accompanied by an equally mischievous curl to his smirk, “I suppose I’ll have to call you that when you’re acting like a toddler, sweetie.”

“Ugh. Ass.” You’d turned on your heel to return to the fire, trailed by the sound of deep, smug chuckling.

Since then, Sylus always seemed to show up near you, whether you wanted him there or not. And, at least at first, you certainly leaned more towards the former. He had a talent for approaching silently, getting that smugly pleased look from startling you into stumbling or squeaking. He also began to challenge you, goading you into contests or archery, or riding, or throwing knuckle bones. He was nearly impossible to beat, and even on the rare occasions that you won, he had the gall to look completely unbothered by your triumph.

Really, after a few months, you should have hated him.

But in between all of the needling and teasing and challenges, you began to learn more about Sylus. You learned that he enjoyed being out hunting or riding far more than he enjoyed being surrounded by people, even if they were praising him. You learned the long-limbed black stallion he rode when he first encountered your tribe had been declared untamable before Sylus had taken him. When one of the livestock dogs died shortly after having two pups, you even learned that (if he wanted to be) he could be downright gentle. He’d done so well in helping care for the pair, that as they grew, they followed him everywhere and obeyed his every command. All of this new familiarity, so at odds with your first impression of him, had cultivated a quiet companionship between the two of you.

Even more surprising were the moments of softness, startlingly close to affection. When Sylus had sat drinking kumis with you on the new year, and you’d excitedly shared your hopes for what was to come, he listened with a quiet smile. He’d brought you the furs from the wolf he’d killed when you caught a particularly nasty winter cold, and had even insisted you keep it after you recovered. When you met other tribes for trade, he often found you afterwards, giving you some ornament or silk from beyond the grasslands. Despite the fact he’d never admitted to it, you knew that when his two dogs accompanied you out into the grasses to watch the flocks, he’d commanded them to do so.

Maybe most importantly, he’d specifically sought you out to show you a den where wolf cubs were playing in the summer, knowing you’d like to see them tussle.

They’d been adorable, large paws and ears far too big for their fluffy bodies. The two of you had left your horses some yards away and sat down a bit distant from the pups, down wind and silent so as not to give your presence away. For a while you couldn't take your eyes off their energetic forms, tussling in the dust in front of the den, chewing on each others’ ears, yelping and licking when it became too rough. Eventually you'd looked to Sylus to ask him something, but your eyes had fallen on the short, recurve bow at his side.

“You're not going to kill them, are you?” You'd whispered

He raised an eyebrow at you in a wordless question.

You checked quickly to make sure the pups hadn't heard you. Fortunately, they still seemed to be involved in their own games.

“I mean. I know they're wolves. They might eat our flocks when they get older. But, they're just babies.”

He blinked at you, with an odd, expression you couldn't place. He rose soon after, walking silently away from the den. You'd followed him, confused.

“Hey,” you hissed, “What are you doing now?”

“Leaving. One parent or the other would've been back soon to feed them. Then I would've actually had to use this.” He tapped the bow that was now slung over his shoulder.

“Oh.” You murmured, realization dawning, “Is that what you brought it for? If one of the parents came back?”

“I certainly wouldn't have needed it to kill a fragile little pup.” He scoffed. “Besides, there's no use in killing something weak and defenseless. Though it's nice to know just how highly you think of me, sweetie.”

“That's not-” a frustrated noise had escaped you as you struggled for words, “I don't think that of you. It just… others would have done that. To make sure they didn't grow up to prey on our animals.”

He turned to you then, with a gaze that seemed to be searching you, trying to find the truth of something. “And I'm ‘others’ to you?”

“Of course not!”

He arched an eyebrow for the second time that day at the vehemence in your voice.

"You're the strongest warrior we have. And an infuriating opponent. But you're also the person who protects orphaned dogs. And brings me extra furs when I'm sick. And-” you stopped yourself before you could incriminate yourself further, taking a small breath to collect yourself. “You're Sylus. Not… Others.”

There was a small silence between the two of you for a moment, as you walked over the flowing grasses together. The only sound was the occasional waves of wind across the landscape.

It was broken, only slightly, by Sylus repeating those words. “Not others.” He said them quietly, slowly, as though testing out strange words in a new language. When you turned to look at him, you caught a glimpse of a small, soft smile on his face. A look so deeply genuine, and beautifully content, it made your breath catch in your chest.

Things had begun to change after the day with the wolves. You were beginning to come familiar with the slight curve of his smile, his real smile. Instead of your usual irritation, the glint that so often came to his eye when he was planning mischief fanned a wave of warmth in you. You began craving the slight huff of breath he gave when amused with something you’d done. The deep chuckle he sometimes gave when his body drew close to yours made something strange and molten coil in your gut. When he was out hunting saiga, you found yourself unusually sullen and snappish. And when you heard people whooping and clamoring at the return of the hunting parties, you’d be jostling to the front of the small crowd to see him.

You’d started to notice things though, in this time. The gossip among the elders as they cooked about when Sylus would marry, and whose granddaughter would be the lucky catch. The gaggles of women that followed him when he’d practice archery or spectate his races, giggling and blushing. Some of the bolder women would even bring him wine at the fireside and try to curl against him (you wished sometimes that he’d respond with more than amused chuckles at their ridiculousness, though it did produce a gratifying amount of insult in the rejected ladies). Last year at the games, you noticed he’d received pouches from women of every tribe. The smug look he gave you when he’d noticed you glaring at them had been insufferable, and you couldn’t quite force yourself to congratulate him on the numerous offers.

And yet, Sylus remained alone. You didn’t even notice other women entering his yurt (though you’d die before you admitted to watching for such). You didn’t know what you’d do if he did take an interest in someone. The thought of someone else being transfixed by that soft smile in the quiet hours of the night made bile rise in your throat. But there was always the chance that he simply valued his freedom; and being rejected in favor of an ideal you could never match seemed just as nauseating.

You mull over these thoughts as you and your mare round the goats back to the group. Or, at least, attempt to. One of the damn things stubbornly refuses to rejoin the group. You can swear you see defiance in its eyes when it looks at you. Challenging you. Mocking, even. Every time you have it going the right direction, it turns and bolts in a random direction, leaving you and your bay sliding in the slush. You then have to catch back up to it, and start herding it back once more.

You’re an excellent shepherdess, with a keen eye and a skilled hand with a bow. You've rarely lost an animal on your watch, and certainly never on purpose. But at this point, even you are beginning to think that losing one goat would really not be all that bad if it means this one wouldn’t be part of the herd anymore. Besides, a wind is beginning to rise, a cold one that cuts through the previously-warm day like a freshly-sharpened knife. You’re beginning to wonder if maybe the lemmings were smarter than you’d thought.

After one more, particularly long chase, you give in.

“Fine then!” You yell at the animal, which stood watching you with unaffected eyes as it chewed grass, “you want to deal with a blizzard alone? Go ahead! I’ll laugh when you end up as a goat-cicle! Laugh!”

With a huff, you turn your horse about, ready to gallop back to the herd, and start moving them to a more sheltered part of the pasture. The animals, however, have moved further away on their own. You can see the large dark mass of them in the distance, and you feel a slight unease in your gut. You're not sure how much you believe about oracle lemmings, but you know livestock well; They instinctively group up close when bad weather is imminent, and it seems that they are bracing for a storm now.

Even more worrying is the wall of iron-gray clouds you see blowing in. They're advancing rapidly, overtaking the sky at a pace you've rarely seen before. The wind, too, is beginning to blow so furiously it all but screams, whipping any unmelted snow up into the air.

You again feel that unease in your gut. The village is even further than the herd from where you are at the moment. Thanks to the previously warm weather, you're woefully unprepared to weather a blizzard alone. But both your other options are bleak; either try to make it to the village and hope there's not enough falling snow to make you lose your way, or try your luck with the herd and hope their bodies keep you warm enough to make it through. At least if you make it to the village, your survival is guaranteed. The same can't be said of the herd.

You rein your mare toward the direction of the village, just as the first volley of fresh snowflakes batter your face and hands. And despite your own dire situation, you can't help but think of Sylus, out with the other hunters. They may have arrived home already, and even if they haven’t, their chances are good; the men should be able to find protection from the wind and cold in a group. Nevertheless, your gut twists with anxiety. Hunters rarely stay completely together. And even in the few minutes you’ve been galloping towards the village, visibility is worsening. The gusts of wind have turned into blasts, ripping through your deel and chilling you to your bones. The blasts are also heaving the already-fallen snowflakes up to rejoin the fresh ones in the air, and creating moments where the landscape is inscrutable.

Between the moments of furious wind, you can see the outline of the village. Even as your heart pounds with hope at the sight, a needling numbness begins to take hold in your hands, making it difficult to keep hold of the reins. You try to switch hands; tucking one into the overlapping fold of your deel in an effort to keep it warm, before switching to the other. The biting wind, though, is so vicious and unforgiving, that it takes a mere few seconds for whatever warmth one hand has gained to be lost. At the same time, the numbness has taken hold in your feet, making it impossible to distribute your weight properly. The violent shivers as your body tries to warm itself are a further complication.

It only takes one misstep from your mare. One hoof landing on some uneven ground, causing her to stumble. And despite the high-backed saddle, and your best efforts, it’s impossible to keep your seat. You land hard in the snow. It’s soft enough, at least, that you’re pretty sure nothing is broken. Not that it matters much. Lost and alone in the screaming wind, and featureless white storm, you are as good as dead.

It feels like an eternity that you lie there in the snow, body wracked by violent shivers in a last-ditch attempt to survive. Logically you know it can’t have been more than a handful of minutes, since you are still alive and conscious, but time loses its meaning in a situation like this. Everything ceases to exist, save for the horrible wind and the bone-deep, soul-leaching cold. The snow is falling fast, fast enough that it’s already covered you as you try to huddle for a semblance of warmth. You’ve been buried alive, waiting to die as the world around you slowly quiets and darkens.

A morbid part of you wonders if the tribe will find you, once the snow begins to melt. You imagine Cota will insist they stay long enough to find your remains. You hope she doesn’t feel guilty; neither of you could’ve known the storm would come on so fast. Your mind wanders to Sylus, too. Did the hunters make it back home before the storm hit? You pray they did; or at least they were together when the snow began to fall. The thought of Sylus in the same situation as yourself seems impossible. You have to believe it’s impossible. Entertaining any other idea strikes a dread into your heart as cold as your little tomb. You pray instead that he’s made it back, that he is safe, and warm. And, if you’re able to be a little idealistic, perhaps wondering where you are.

Quite suddenly, a sound shatters your quiet morbidity. Stark against the background of shrieking wind, there is a deep bark. Then another, closer. Soon, there is a constant barrage of the noises.

Hope burns bright in your heart. Maybe, just maybe, all is not yet lost.

You try to shift under the snow, trying to claw your way out of your icy grave. But your limbs are trembling so hard, so frequently, that controlling them is near impossible. Worse, your muscles are becoming weak. Soon they’ll be too exhausted to even shiver, much less move the heavy snow that entombs you. Nevertheless, you have to try. You must try. Because if you don’t, your last hope of warmth will move on, and then you will truly be as good as dead.

Your efforts come to a halt when a startlingly loud crunching begins in the snow above and around you. It doesn’t take long before the blanket of snow is lifted from your head, and a warm puff of air greets your face.

You open your eyes. And instead of a blinding white storm, your vision is filled with deep brown eyes set in a furry face as black as night. The same face that Sylus has sent to accompany you on night watches and sunny days alike. You smile at the familiar creature, despite the chattering of your teeth.

“H-hey, boy.” You whisper, your numb hand reaching up to sink into the dog’s deep fur. You can still hear his brother nearby, barking furiously above the wind.

Though Sylus knows them at a glance, you've never been particularly good at telling the two dogs apart by looks. They're both black, with intelligent eyes and powerful frames. In behavior though, they are slightly different. Gerel is louder, and more playful. Khar, though quieter, is definitely the smarter of the two. He's likely the one blocking your body from the worst of the wind, now.

You try to call Gerel over as his brother curls himself around your quivering body, but it’s too hard to draw a deep breath. Instead, you lean against the one lying on you, burying your face and hands against the one reprieve from the cold. You can think of nothing else but how good the slight amount of warmth feels, even as your fingers begin to burn slightly from the frostbite. It is a promising pain, one that feels of returning life rather than looming nothingness. You doubt it will be enough to truly save you, but at least you have some source of comfort now.

Eventually Gerel goes quiet, and you begin to worry he's become lost in the storm as well. You lift your face from Khar's fur, and try again to call his brother, but fail. Khar perks up, though, his massive tail wagging a fan-shaped dent in the snow. Perhaps he can smell his brother on the fierce wind?

A few moments later, you hear it. A deep, commanding voice that cuts through the shrieking wind like a blade, calling your name.

Sylus.

You don’t know why he’s here, or if he’s even real. It may be an illusion conjured by your failing mind and body. It does not matter. Real or not, you must go to him.

You try to draw yourself up, try to call his name, but Khar remains a dead weight on you. You try to shove him, but your muscles are still shaking uncontrollably, making any efforts to dislodge Khar useless.

Please, you think desperately, please, I need to go to him. I need him, I need Sylus.

In the midst of your struggle with the animal laying on you, you very nearly miss the crunching of snow approaching you. Gerel soon appears, fur nearly white with the coating of heavy, wet snow that clings to him. And directly behind him is a sight that would make you weep if you had the breath for it.

It's Sylus. He's battered by the wind and ice as he wades through the fresh snow, only a step behind Gerel. His face bears a sharp, unwavering determination and ferocity that puts even this storm to shame as he wades through the drifts. His eyes, bright scarlet amidst the daunting white, lock onto yours. Only when his master is a single step away from you does Khar finally wiggle himself off of you. The wind immediately rips away all the warmth the dog has lent you. But you feel the loss only for a moment, as in the next breath, Sylus has yanked you bodily out of the snow and crushed you against himself.

“Found you,” his deep voice is quiet, heavy with an emotion you can’t name. And oh, oh, even if this is a dream sent to ease your last moments, you do not care. There is no one you’d rather imagine at your side right now.

He releases you, only slightly, to tug off his own gloves and put them on your trembling hands. The heat that envelopes them makes your skin burn, and a whine that is half-choked by shivers bubble out of your throat.

“Bear with it,” he murmurs, wrapping a thicker, warm deel over your current one, “You won’t be able to beat me at archery if you lose your fingers, little huntress.”

Normally, you would call him an ass, berate him for worrying about losing his archery competitor as he gave you a smug smile for taking his bait. But you can’t. Your mind is foggy, and all you can do is curl into him as he sweeps you up into his arms. You notice briefly that his eyes have narrowed again. He looks… irritated maybe? Angry? You aren’t sure. Before you can think about it for very long, though, you are distracted by a sharp whistle from Sylus, shrill and sharp even over the unending wind. It’s followed by a whinny, as his tall, powerful horse wades through the snow with a determination identical to his master’s.

Sylus walks to meet the horse halfway. He says something, and then suddenly his arm drops out from under your legs. You stumble slightly, knees buckling under your own weight as your boots drop through the knee-high snow. You are strangely surprised when you don't hit the ground, and it takes you a moment to realize that Sylus has a hold on your waist, steadying you.

Oh. He was going to set you down. That's what he had said. Of course.

You look up at him, and find a hard expression on his face. Why does he look angry now? You don’t understand.

His bright eyes bore into your own, cutting through the confusion for a moment. When his voice comes, it is a command, not a request.

“Stay with me.”

You're not sure why he's saying this. It's not like you're going anywhere. All you want right now is to just curl up and sleep, back in his arms, if possible. But you nod anyway.

Sylus swings himself up onto his horse, settling himself behind the canticle. This again confuses you. You're supposed to sit on the seat. Not behind it. But before you can continue puzzling over this, Sylus has bent half-over, wrapped an arm around you once more, and hauled you up against the side of the horse. The pressure of it is uncomfortable, and you try to squirm out of the grasp. Sylus's hold is sure, though, and before you can break it, he's hooked the other arm under your knee, and lifted you up into the seat of the saddle.

You try to brace your legs, to keep your seat as the stallion begins to move beneath you, but your vicious shivers make it difficult to control your limbs, even for an action as instinctive to you as walking. Before you can falter though, Sylus’s arm wraps around you, holding you safe and steady against him.

You do your best to keep your eyes open against the biting wind and freezing snow. But the scant amount of warmth you can feel through the thickness of both your clothes, paired with the movements of the stallion slowed by the snow, is almost hypnotic. And you are tired, oh, so tired.

“You lost this game,” he says, in that damn smug voice that always makes you want to punch his arm.

“Game?”

He gives an affirmative hum. “Hide and seek. I found you, didn't I? That's another victory for me.”

You give a grunt of disgust, still not sure what he's talking about, but irritated by the condescension in his voice all the same.

“Don't be such a sore loser, sweetie.”

You don't know why you're even sitting on the same horse as him.

“A-ass,” you hiss around the waves of shivers. “Sh-should. P-push off.”

The dark chuckle behind you is as alluring as it is infuriating. “I'd love to see you try.”

You do try, for a moment, pushing against his hold. But you are soon frustrated by how clumsy your movements are, and exhausted by the effort. Sylus's tight grip is immovable anyway.

“Seems I'm still on the horse, sweetie.” Comes the singsong mocking from behind you.

You give a grunt in response. You can't be bothered to be angry. All you can feel is the heavy tiredness dulling all your senses.

Sylus says your name, sharply. There's an odd tone to it. You don't care enough to think about why.

You're vaguely aware of being jostled. And then, for a while, you are senseless.

The damn shivering is what wakes you. It's so violent and pervasive that it drives the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping between the waves of trembling to try and regain it. On instinct, you try to curl into yourself, but are unable to. In fact, apart from the tremors, you can’t move your body at all. You seem to be surrounded by some sort of heavy mass, pressing on every inch of you. You struggle, pushing against the weight near your face to get some breathing room. The mass grunts, then moves away for a moment, freeing your head and upper body. You have only a moment of reprieve from the claustrophobia before…

Something warm, wet, and slimy drags across your face.

“Ur-rgh!” You bring a quivering arm up to rub away the slime.

A deep chuckle rumbles behind you, the breath of it close enough to make warmth fan across the back of your skull, “Is that how you thank Khar for helping to save your life, sweetie?”

Your eyes snap open at the familiar voice; although instead of the carmine eyes and seductive smirk you expect, your vision is filled (for the second time today) by pitch-dark fur and smiling brown eyes set in a distinctly canine face. Right as that same face applies another sloppy lick to yours.

“Kh-khar!” You squeak, bringing your now-free arms up to protect your face from the onslaught of affection. “Th-thanks, but s-stop!”

Khar obediently jumps down from where you’re laying, though he gives you a pathetic whine. A further weight is removed from your lower half when Gerel reluctantly hefts himself off of you to join his brother on the floor, giving you a similarly dejected look.

Without Khar laying on you, you can see more of your surroundings. It’s clear that you’re in a yurt, one that is unfamiliar to you. The only light source is the barely-visible fire crackling complacently in the small stove at the center, leaving much of the place in shadow. Is it night, then? Why are you here? And why do your hands and feet feel like they are burning?

You flex your hands between shivers in an attempt to stop the strange, tingling heat. If anything, that seems to make the feeling sharper, more biting in its ferocity. Shifting them out from underneath a heavy woolen blanket and furs to inspect them gives no answers, given the dim light.

“Can you still feel them?” Sylus’s voice, humorless this time, cuts through the slowly-lifting fog of unconsciousness and confusion.

“H-hurts.”

“Good, that means there’s still life in them. Better than losing such pretty fingers to frostbite.” Memories come to you at the word ‘frostbite’. They are hazy, as though recalling a dream several hours after waking; the dogs finding you in the snow, warming you and guiding Sylus to you through the blinding storm, Sylus carrying you in his arms, and keeping you upright in the saddle before you drifted into unconsciousness.

“Syl-” Your words are cut short. In trying to turn to face him, you realize that his powerful arm is curled around your waist.

Your naked waist. And at your back, you do not feel the rough texture of clothes; but instead the heated, sticky kind of softness of skin on bare skin.

Your body stills in shock; suddenly, you are horribly, wonderfully conscious of every inch Sylus has pressed against you: The firmness of his chest, the sharp jut of his hips, the tangle of his legs around and between yours, and (both the most enticing and mortifying of all) the warm, heavy weight of what must be his cock nestled against your ass.

That damned smug chuckle comes again, “I was wondering how long it would take you to notice. It took you a while; maybe I should be more worried about your head than your fingers, hm?”

You stutter a few times, as your mind comes to terms with your situation, before blurting in a rush, “Where are my clothes, Sylus!? Where are yours!?”

“Ah, you mean our freezing, sopping wet clothes?” His tone is almost sing-song in its blithe news, and bereft of any shame, “I took the liberty of removing them so that you didn't continue freezing to death.”

Somehow, his complete lack of any embarrassment heightens your own, as though your mind has determined to make up the difference between the pair of you. The heated panic in combination with exhaustion, confusion, and desire collide in a nerve-wracking swirl. You scramble wildly to get up, get away from this source of searing, tumultuous emotions. But the movement of your hands makes them burn as you try to gain purchase In the blankets and furs, and his arm around you is immovable as stone. “You- I- Couldn’t you have just thrown a blanket on me or- or something!? Gods, let go!”

He gives a derisive snort. “You would have just frozen to death under a blanket instead of snow. You didn’t have any heat left to trap, so I lent you some of mine. And no.”

“No what?”

“I just risked my life in a blizzard hunting for you, and I’m not about to let all my effort go to waste when I’ve already caught my prize. So, no, I will not be letting you go.”

“This isn’t- Can’t you just put on some damned pants, at least?”

“Hm, I could… but are you sure you want me to?”

“Sylus!!”

He gives a full laugh at your flustered squeak, “Once I’m sure that you’ve completely warmed up, I will. Until then, I suggest you stay still. Unless you’d like me to warm you up a different way. But I’d suggest waiting until your hands have healed.”

He must be teasing, surely. Delighting in your embarrassment as always. Still, a tiny, idiotically hopeful part of you can’t help but wonder… if you were able to see his face right now, would you see a small glimmer of want for you underneath the inscrutable mask? You dismiss the thought quickly. Even if you were able to see his face, you’d only see that damn self-satisfied smirk that makes your stomach twist.

“The elders are going to be insufferable about this,” You mutter, desperate you lay those thoughts to rest. Well, as best as you can, considering Sylus is curled around you.

“So what? Let them talk.”

“Easy for you to say. They won’t say anything to you; you’re the one half of them are looking to marry their daughters off to.” You’re only aware of the venom in your last few words after they’ve already left your mouth. You pray Sylus doesn’t notice.

But of course he does.

“Jealous, little huntress?” You can hear the smile in his voice

“You’re an ass, do you know that?”

“I’m hurt sweetie. I run out into a storm to find my poor, lost huntress, and in return she calls me an ass.”

He gives a mock-sigh, but something in his words raises a question in your mind. Sylus had been out with the other hunters just before the storm hit. You hadn’t even been sure he would make it back to the village in time, but somehow he managed to find you?

“How did you even know I was out there?”

Sylus pauses for a moment. His voice, once he does speak, is startlingly somber. “Some of the hunting group saw the cloud wall rolling in. We rode back as fast as possible. Even so, if we’d had further to go, the wind would’ve outpaced us. I’ve never seen clouds that heavy and fast, outside of summer storms.”

“I tried to ride back too, when I saw them. But with the cold, I couldn’t feel my hands, and the rough ground…” You trail off, fully prepared to be teased about your riding skills. Instead, you feel an ever-so-slight tightening of his arm around you. You wonder if he’s even aware of his own movement.

Sylus continues, “When we arrived, people came out to greet us and help get everything secured before the worst of the storm. I didn’t see you throwing people out of the way like usual.”

“I do not throw people out of the way,” You mutter.

“If you say so, little huntress.” You can hear the smile in his voice for a moment, though it disappears when he continues, “I found Cota, and asked where you were. When she said you were out shepherding, I knew you wouldn’t make it back before the snow came. So, I took Khar and Gerel, and had them track you.”

“Was anyone else missing?”

“We’ll find out after the storm.”

The two of you are quiet for a moment, as you process his response. He didn’t notice anyone else was gone. He didn’t ask to see if any others were lost. He didn’t bother to try and search for anyone else in the snow.

He noticed you were missing.

He asked where you were.

He went into the storm for you.

“You… Sylus, were you out in that storm, just to find me?”

A small, humorless huff of laughter fans across the back of your skull again. “I wasn’t out there just taking a stroll, sweetie.”

“You could’ve lost Gerel and Khar. And your horse. And your life.”

“Worried about me, hm?”

Of course you were. Sylus is a strong, clever man. Perhaps the greatest warrior and hunter your tribe has known; but even the greatest of mortals are brought to their knees by the forces of nature and the whims of chance. You want to tell him all this, tell him that the thought of him standing alone amidst the howling winds, searching for the path to safety… even just thinking about it makes your chest feel as empty and cold as the storm still raging outside. Your breath catches, and you cannot force the words, glutted with feelings as they are, out of your throat.

So instead you reply, “It’s a big risk to take.”

“Maybe.” His tone is nonchalant, as though he is talking about what he’d brought home from hunting, rather than the act of risking his dearest possessions and life trying to save you in near-hopeless conditions. “But I don’t gamble unless the prize is worth the risk.”

It takes you a moment to digest the words, heart caught in your throat, hardly daring to believe that you’ve understood him correctly. A fragile but brilliant hope lights in your chest. You had been aware of the friendship that had begun to form between you and Sylus, and you had been aware of your desire to be something more to him, to be someone he wanted. But you hadn’t dared to imagine occupying a position of such value to him.

“You think I’m worth all that…?”

You don’t mean to say the words aloud, but the exhaustion loosens your lips just enough for them to spill out. Immediately your stomach lurches at a strange, shifting fear. Perhaps speaking the thought aloud has crossed some sort of line, daring the universe to snuff out your hope just as it had been lit.

A soft, teasing lilt returns to his voice as he speaks, “I believe that’s what I just said, little huntress. Hm, maybe I should be more concerned about your head.” The hand that isn’t curled around your middle gives the top of your head a soft tap, tap, tap.

A small, breathless laugh bubbles up out of your chest, the hope within you flaring bright and making your heart race. You don’t know how he manages to do it; to convey something as heartfelt as ‘you are worth risking my life and all I hold dear’, while simultaneously sounding like it’s the most simple thing in the world. Something that should be obvious even to a small child.

It’s a special talent you’ve noticed in Sylus ever since that day with the wolf pups; he makes you want to throttle him one moment, and in the next breath he’ll speak with such sincere simplicity that it utterly disarms you. He somehow manages to walk that fine line between keeping you on your toes with bantering, and keeping you grounded with his forthrightness. It's addictive. It's comforting. You're not even sure if it's something he tries to do, or if his natural state of being is just something that draws your soul in effortlessly.

You need to face him.

You turn in his grasp to look at him, trying to ignore the burst of prickling heat in your hands. It's worth the pain. Sylus is a striking picture in the low light; all silvery tousled hair, gold skin, and sanguine eyes, graced by a rare look of surprise for just a moment.

And then his face relaxes into a soft look, one you've started to see more and more, but never fails to make your heart race faster than a horse galloping over the grass sea.

“There you are,” he murmurs, voice rough and low. And you simply cannot help it. Frostbite be damned. You might die if you don't kiss him, and you've come close enough to that today already. You have to kiss him.

The press of your lips against his is insistent, but chaste. At least, at first. Sylus takes in a sharp breath, and for a fraction of a second you wonder if you've misread, if you've pushed too far. And then, his mouth becomes soft, and pliant, and something in your chest melts when the arm he has around you slides up your spine to press at the nape of your neck, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. A pleased sigh escapes you, unbidden. Before you are quite aware of your own movements, your hand is at his jaw, cupping his face, trying to pull him closer.

A new flare of pain sears your hand at the pressure, and you reflexively pull away with a hiss.

You open your eyes (when did they close?) to see Sylus, pupils blown wide, looking at you with that same sort of ferocity and determination you saw in him earlier, when your eyes met his in the storm. And for a moment, caught in that unwavering intensity, you swear your heart forgets how to beat.

His eyes remain fixed on your own as he takes your wrist and gently (too gently) moves it away from his face, which has settled back into its usual near-arrogant smirk. Reality crashes in on you then. You are in Sylus's yurt, kissing him, sharing a bed, naked. The realization is followed by a disorienting mix of embarrassment, pride, shame, and excitement. You've just kissed him for the first time, and you know if it weren't for the pain in your hands you would have taken as much as he would give you. Begged for it, maybe. What does he think of you now? How much would he let you take? What would you tell everyone once you left here?

But as usual, when your mind threatens to whirl itself into chaos, Sylus cuts through it.

“I'll have to collect on that part of my prize later, little huntress,” He murmurs, and you wonder if it is merely your imagination, or if he is actually as breathless as you are. His thumb strokes across the soft skin at the underside of your wrist, across the vein where your pulse is thrumming like a caught hare's. “I want to see what those pretty hands can do to me when they're all healed.”

Hearing him say it out loud makes the embarrassment resurface with a vengeance, and the barely-leashed heat in Sylus's gaze makes it unbearable. Breaking the stare, you take your hand back and shuffle under the blankets once more, until the hem falls across your cheek.

Sylus's amused chuckle earns him a glare from you, but your indignation is quickly soothed over as he drags his fingers through your hair, across your scalp, gently untangling the strands. After a few minutes, the gentle scratching opens the door for a wave of exhaustion, heightened by the warm darkness and the muffled howling of the winter winds outside.

You wonder, vaguely, if the touch was meant in apology, or to make you drowsy. You're not sure it matters. Sylus is here, looking at you with that affectionate, soft smile, as your lips begin to flutter.

“Sleep, shevonica,” is the last thing you hear before drifting into unconsciousness. This time, in the safety and warmth of Sylus’s hold.

[epicthemusicalstuff]

I CRYUNG I NEED SOMEONE TO SUM UP ALL ETM SONGS MY. MEMORY + ATTENTION SPAN IS SO BAD

Let’s speed run epic the musical so far!! (It’s under the cut cause even a summary is gonna take a bit for 35 songs-)

Horse and the Infant:

Giant horse- ATTACK! ZEUS?!?! What are you doing here? I have to kill a baby? But he’s just a little thing-

Just a Man:

This little boy reminds me of my son. Is killing him the morally correct thing to do? Yeet.

Full Speed Ahead:

Let’s introduce our main cast! Wow! Polites- Eurylochus- Odysseus! BFFs forever! We’re hungry- let’s go to this island and look for food!

Open Arms:

Wow Odysseus, you are looking hella tense, maybe you should try being nice and not so mistrustful. Look at these little creatures eating lotus fruit- wow this fruit is bad for you- let’s go to this cave to find food!

Warrior of the Mind:

Athena and Odysseus back story. Odysseus, your actions aren’t very Warrior of the Mind coded. Don’t disappoint me.

Polyphemus:

Let’s kill these Sheep!! NOOO! Scary Cyclops, we killed his sheep, now he will kill us.

Survive:

HES GOT A CLUB. He is killing us- NO POLITES. Oh, Polyphemus is asleep now cause he drank spiked wine.

Remember Them:

Odysseus tricks Polyphemus. They almost get away, and then he GIVES OUT HIS FULL NAME, JOB POSITION, ADRESS, AND SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER.

My Goodbye:

Athena is disappointed and they have a big messy friend break up.

Storm:

There is a big storm. Wow! A floating island! Let’s go!

Luck Runs Out:

Captain, you keep taking risks and not thinking this through. What happens if your plans fail?

Keep Your Friends Close:

Hahahahahaha! Here is a bag of wind! Don’t open it! Oh- the winions told you to open it? No!! Penelope- I’m hallucinating! Darn- the bag is opened.

Ruthlessness:

You hurt my son. So now I’m gonna kill most of your men. What’s this- a daring escape? Well- I’ll get you sooner or later-

Puppeteer:

An island. Let’s explore! Oh no- scary lady, she turned us into pigs! Let’s run Captain! Or not I guess.

Wouldn’t You Like:

Hey kid, this scary lady could kill you. How about some magic drugs? Totally safe and all.

Done For:

We are evenly matched- big magic fight! Wow! The magic drugs Hermes gave you really are something. Are you trying to seduce me?

There Are Other Ways:

Wow, you really are trying to seduce me. Too bad- I have a wife I love. Wait- you’ll help us? THE UNDERWORLD WHAT?

The Underworld:

We are haunted by everyone we have lost- Polites- wait- MOM?!? I’m too late-

No Longer You:

This dead prophet should tell me what we want to know- wait- what no- this is actually terrible? We came to you for help but now you’re saying you can’t help us? WHO?!a

Monster:

Maybe Poseidon was onto something, and we do have to be ruthless. Welp, time to become the monster y’all.

Suffering:

Ooo, Penelope, I love you, but you know I’m too shy. I don’t want to get in the water-

Different Beast:

SURPRISE I KNEW YOU WERENY MY WIFE. I actually did become the monster, and now I’m going to kill all your friends you Siren!

Scylla:

This is the only way home. Eurylochus, what do you mean you opened the wind bag back in Keep Your Friends Close. Light six torches- oh no, a giant monster is eating our crew. Me and her are the same you know.

Mutiny:

Captain why did you do that? Fight fight fight! Oh no- Odysseus has been stabbed. I’m hungry, let’s eat cows. Oh no, they were a gods cows. We knew that but still ate them. Now Zeus is gonna kill us.

Thunders Bringer:

Zeus is here. You can live, or your crew can live. But like- Penelope. Sorry crew. Crew dies.

Legendary:

It’s me! Telemachus! I never knew my dad- I wish I could know my dad. All these suitors want to marry my mom. I wish I could fight them. DONT CALL MY MOTHER A TRAMP!

Little Wolf:

Fight Little Wolf Fight- we are going to beat you up just cause you were in the way. WOW. ATHENA?? What are you doing here- we haven’t seen you since the second saga! Ow.

We’ll Be Fine:

I’m going to help you cause I feel guilty about your dad. Bet. We are best friends now. Go find my dad.

Love In Paradise:

Rewind- Morning! You were asleep. I’m in love with you now. Ew back away I have a wife. You’re a goddess??? Oh no- now I’m really depressed. I’m haunted by the ghosts again- ATHENA!

God Games:

Zeus- father- release Odysseus. *lots of convincing Gods* NO, YOU DID WHAT I ASKED SO NOW IM MAD. LIGHTNING BOLT. Is she- dead?

I’m Not Sorry For Loving You:

Yes I kept you trapped against you power, but I loved you- why won’t you love me back? It’s not like you have a whole literally family waiting for you-

Dangerous:

HAHAHAHA. Hello old friend! Let’s do some cool dance moves as I tell you how you will get back home. Here is a wind bag 2.0! Let’s hope you don’t have issues with it this time!

Charybdis:

Another obstacle!! But I know how to beat you!! Woo! I see home- I’m almost there! WAIT NO! NOT AGAIN!

Get In The Water:

Poseidon! Please let me get home- I already told Siren Penelope, I don’t want to get in the water! Can’t we get along? No! Drowning-

Six Hundred Strike:

Use the wind bag! I’m out of the water! SIX HUNDRED STRIKE! You’re beat Poseidon- let me go home. What’s this? You won’t. TIME FOR VIOLENCE. Stab. Stab. Stab. Next to my WIFE.

[bitethedevil]

raphael is not free, he works kinda for his daddy. How does he spend his free time? when there is no soul or contract? no more cringe diary to write?? no more spying?? no more obsession with his dream? just him with fre time

Raphael’s Free Time

I’ve always had a sense that Raphael both works hard and plays hard. I mean look at his house and how it is. When he’s done with work, don’t even think about speaking to him or bothering him. It’s his chill time. Though I also feel like even his chill time is neatly scheduled and he has trouble with not doing anything at all. Even when he’s lounging in his bath or drinking wine on his balcony, his mind is still running. I also feel like he’s the type of person to have side projects, and his side projects have side projects.

There’s a bit of everything, honestly

He is thousands of years old, so I feel like he has learned a bit of everything. A lot of his off time probably goes to research. He has had hundreds of clients with hundreds of different professions and interests, and Raphael is not going to be caught looking stupid.

He learns a bit of everything to know how to better deal with those specific people. I’m thoroughly convinced that he knows a bit about everything and he’s proficient in just about every skill and hobby under the sun. Hunting, fishing, sewing, knitting, gardening, cooking, embroidering, you name it.

He might not like all those things equally, but he knows stuff about it, and he knows how to do it. I don’t think he’s able to deal with not being good at something or not knowing about something. Learning new things and acquiring new skills doesn’t intimidate him.

What he likes

We know from his diaries and some of the books around the House of Hope that he likes to write. He’s constantly writing contracts anyway, so that is not surprising. He likes writing creatively about his own plans and making fanfiction about himself. He writes poetry and songs, and even incorporates that into his contracts, as seen with Yurgir.

He plays music and sings too. He is a bard, after all. I think a lot of his time is spent on that and it seems like something he enjoys. We all know he likes the sound of his own voice, so it makes good sense.

He paints too. It’s not directly proven in the game, but there are painting supplies and an easel at the HoH. If I remember correctly, he mostly paints landscapes. I think that’s interesting considering all the paintings he has of himself. I don’t think he was the one to make the portraits of him. In some psychoanalytical way I think that’s because he is unable to properly capture how he himself is and is only able to see what he wants himself to be, but he enjoys other people’s depictions of himself (given that they fit the image HE has of himself). What he can depict though, is how he sees the world, thus: landscapes. Might just be me overanalysing again. I’ve written more about his portraits here.

All in all, he’s a very creative dude. It’s not really surprising considering that devils are only worth as much as they produce in a way, so even in his free time, he is still making things and being productive, though in another more recreational way. I think he is like that though: he has to do something or he’ll go insane.

(Thank you for the ask <3)

[revelboo]

Ignore me-Not Transformers, I just like the angry boi and a friend reminded me of the Transformers/Overwatch crossover and that he was paired with Megs for it. Love his design and the Omnics in general, but so, so incredibly awful at this game. Also, title’s not a Motion City Soundtrack song

Anti-Gravity

Ramattra x Reader

• Heart racing, you run headlong down the street. Hearing the explosions and trying to guess how many streets over they are. You don’t even know where you’re going, just following the people in front of you. When they reach the intersection and start screaming and scattering, you’re shoved down by the panicked people ahead of you. Falling at the feet of an Omnic taller than any you’ve ever seen, seeing its head tip, ribbons on its head sliding against its shoulders. Unable to move as Nullifiers storm the street in a violent tide around him. And his arm lifts, a staff in his hands as you hear the scream of jets overhead.

• They scatter like insects before him and his followers, screaming in fear. Knows they think he’s a monster for what he’s doing, even though they’re the ones that drove him to this. He never wanted any of this, trying again and again for peace only to see his people cut down. Because to them, the Omnics are expendable. Things that can be used and thrown away, not living beings. But not anymore. Never again ignored, because he will be seen and heard.

• That head turns and you catch the faint glow of optics under that mask as the biggest Omnic sees you on the ground, time seeming to slow as his head turns away dismissing you, those ribbon like strands on his head stirring in the breeze as the jets turn. They wouldn’t dare attack, they have to know there’s civilians down here with those monsters. You want to believe that so bad, but when the first missile is launched, you’re frozen but not surprised. Not really. Null Sector makes the news all the time, its leader thwarting attacks repeatedly. Always slipping away before he can be brought down.

• Growling, his arm lifts and a barrier shield flickers to life as the first missile hits. They’re really desperate enough to not care about collateral damage like the human sprawled at his feet or the ones still running just to try and end him. His Nullifiers turning and returning fire as another missile hits a building overlooking the street. Seeing the damage, seeing the building lean over them all. Any cost to stop him, then. Because now they see him. Fear him. Swapping to nemesis form, he bends, dragging the human out of his way and slamming his fists down. Again. Street buckling under the force, aware of the building coming down as he falls and the human screaming as they go with him. Rending pain. And the building crashes down, entombing him in darkness. But they’d seen him.

• Something wet drips in your face, and everything hurts as you come to by degrees. Wherever you are is cold, dark, and wet. Shafts of light spearing down from above, dust dancing in the golden glow. Pain slices through you when you try to move, trying to remember details. The building came down on you, so how had you survived? You remember the tall Omnic getting bigger, looking at you and raising his fists. Falling. You’re below the street? Gingerly sitting up, you try to figure out how badly you’re hurt. And there, a flicker in the dark. That Omnic, the one you’d seen on the news. Ramattra, Null Sector’s leader. He’s right there, unmoving. One of his legs pinned under debris, an arm torn completely off. Much worse off than you are, though shifting sends a jagged lance of pain through your ankle. There’s a broken rebar near you and you reach for it without thinking, the metal bitingly cold against your palm. As cold as the realization that you could end this. Drive this twisted spike of metal through his head and the fear disappears. Optics flickering behind the broken mask, its head turns to stare at you. And snared by those awful optics, you drag yourself to your feet.

Next

[absolutebl]

GMMTV 2025 Line Up - My Totally Biased and Wildly Flawed Feels

This is the point where I remind you that GMMTV announced 16 BLs for 2024 and didn't actually release 4 of them in 2024: My Golden Blood, Ossan‘s Love, Sweet Tooth Good Dentist, and The Ex-Morning.

So despite the fact that these are from GMMTV 2025 line up, some of them will not happen until 2026, and some could get dropped entirely or have cast changes.

I'm not including the GLs, grab bags, or possible bromances. Confirmed full-tilt gay af only.

In order of ones I'm most excited about.

Dare You to Death

trailer

JoongDunk as police investigators in a mystery suspense thriller. Yes, I'm in. This is it. This it the one I wanted to instantly watch. Even though their's 20 BLs airing right now.

This is the only trailer I immediately rewatched.

Boys in Love

trailer

Our only true high school BL from GMMTV and it's fresh faces for the youths and old favs for the teachers. It's milk teeth Make it Right and that is perfectly fine with me! I like lotte milk. Also DIMPLES! Yay! I suspect they're using this one to test some new pairs for future seasons. Like a Project 101 Thai BL. (Honestly I just invented an amazing reality TV for you GMMTV, you're welcome.)

Like My School President was in 2023, this could be a major 2025 sleeper hit for me.

Memoir of Rati

trailer

Sing the praise song with me BLabies! GreatInn in a HISTORICAL with a class divide and everyone's favourite side couple! Be still my heart! I'm beyond pleased. (Also I got my boat in a lotus pond at last.) My only concern is this could end sad, it's in the title after all.

This is the only trailer that gave me chills.

My Magic Prophecy

trailer

Paranormal mystery with a fortune teller and a doctor. I'm in. I hope the script doesn't fail JimmySea again, they are such a great pair. I'm intrigued by this one but it felt the most formless of all the trailers, so I'm thinking we could see some significant tweaks.

Me and Thee

trailer

A photographer gets involved with the mafia? OMG is this a Thai dupe for Target the Finder? Only mixed with Cyrano? WILD. I mean to say, this one is wild WILD! Plus Est (my love) back in suits and ear dongles I see. Also GMMTV never gonna let us forget they bagged two of BL's best bods with PP, thanks all for the visuals.

Of course this is for me. I'm the shallowest, remember? Plus I love a BL that's just a little bit...... well...... stupid.

A Dog and A Plane

trailer

A prissy gay flight attendant in a push-pull relationship with an EMT dude-bro. Characters are a bit throwback to PeteKao (no bad thing) not to mention the looming shadow of What the Duck? (bad thing). But the side couple is the always appealing MarcPoon.

Okay GMMTV, surprise me, I'm game. And you know TayNew are my OG GMMTV pair du jour.

Cat for Cash

trailer

Finally something fluffy with a pair I like. Looks cute. I like cute. Yay for me! Adorable gay boys and cats.

This one is basically made to be a tumblr comfort meme meets thirst trap. I see what you're doing GMMTV and I applaud you. Carry on.

That Summer

trailer

The only side pair to seriously level up. Okay so amnesia is my least favourite trope, and I tend to not be wild about secret identity either, but I like both pairs in this one, so I'll watch.

My Romance Scammer

trailer

New couple! My boys Ohm and Fluke (no, not that Fluke, the one from My Ride). Honestly, Fluke has popped up as a side in a couple GMMTV shows I was wondering who they'd BL him with.

This could win. Prettiest human on earth paired with the world's most potent single dimple. Will I survive? I honestly don't know, because Ohm historically doesn't have much chemistry with anyone but the original Fluke so... Still I l do love JuniorMark and this as a really unique premise (gay Heartbreakers), so I'm game.

Head 2 Head

trailer

The Boo kids are back. I don't love this pair (I find their chemistry and acting awkward) or the main trope (E2L) but I do like the new sides and their trope (2nd chance is a fav of mine). So this one will depend on whether those are full side dishes or just crumbs.

Ticket To Heaven

trailer

GMMTV is doing Boy Foretold by Stars concept? Interesting, did not have religious boundary pushing and bildungsroman down on he Thai BL bingo card.

This isn't my thing but I think G4 are actually going to be amazing in it and I certainly look forward to them pushing their acting chops. Not to mention the discomfort something like this can cause in general/global viewership. I like it when BL makes people (who aren't me) uncomfortable.

Burnout Syndrome

trailer

GMMTV doing edgy is never a good thing IMHO, and in this one they're handling sex work. *shakes head* However, Not Me is the noted exception and this is that same pair with the same director. So I'm curious if not wild about the content.

That said, I'm delighted to see Gun with someone else (Dew is a stunning choice, thank you Casting) even if only for a love triangle moment. It's been a WHILE.

Melody of Secrets

trailer

Not wild about ForceBook, do like a mystery, don't like horror or psychological thrillers... not sure on this one.

I like BL pushing into new territory, even if it's not my territory, but this is defiantly not made for me, that's for damn sure.

And that's the end of my list.

"But wait," you cry. "P'ABL you're still missing some."

How Dare

Only Friends Dream On

trailer

Yeah, no fuckoff. I will not be watching this. I already marked it pink on the Spreadsheet of Doom. (Pink means CNF or an automatic no watch for me.)

But dude was it nice to see all those pairs busted. That's always a good time for me. Anyway, all you so-n-sos who gave the first one your eyeballs are to blame for this. Watch it n weep. Without me.

(Side note: I love it when a title reviews itself, Only Friends: Dream On, indeed. It's like media aptronym.)

and last and definately least......

Love You Teacher

trailer

no

no no

NO NO

NO!!!

I do like Perth & Santa (although I'm not sold on them as a pair). But words cannot describe how much I dislike this premise. SERIOUSLY? No thank you very much. I could, just maybe, hate watch Only Friends 2, but it's gonna be hard for me to even turn this on. Infantilization and people acting like children wigs me tf out. YKINMKBYKIOK of course, but not in my BL GMMTV. Stop it! (This one also got the dreaded pink of will not watch.)

More Disappointments

Thor didn't get the lead in anything. (Pouts in "but he so sexy.")

No major pairs were significantly busted.

Tonally it's gone darker than I expected. I prefer lighter fluffier BL so this tonal shift for GMMTV as a whole is not a win for me personally. Should be left to Japan IMHO.

That said, most of my favorite GMMTV pairs are in my top picks to watch as well, so I'm happy for that.

I'm Intrigued Despite Myself

My favorite trailer of all was actually Wu (red thread fated paranormals are my favoritest thing ever next to isekai) but that's not a branded pair so I'm not convinced it's BL. Hoping it is, but that happened in 2024 with these boys, so I'll leave it in the air for now.

I like that we're making push to leave uni and high school behind (don't worry, other Thai studios will fill the gap). I think GMMTV is doing this in order to

keep branded pairs together and

keep the actors of those pairs interested in the BL scripts.

As their major pairs age out of uni, GMMTV has to hand them more meaty and grown up stuff. I didn't think they would actually do this, so I'm pleased to see it happen. Even if it's all going darker than I like, at least it's different.

I don't really report on GL and I rarely have time to watch it these days. I thought the new MilkLove looked cute, but I'm still recovering from whatever happen in their last one. The Girl's Rules one looks like a light-weight L-Word. Still happy to see GMMTV move out of school for thier few GLs too.

(source)

[jeongsoo-jin]

Pairing: Idol Song Mingi x afab reader (friends to lovers)

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, creampie, reader is called baby and love, oral (female receiving), hickeys, a bit of whiney Mingi if you squint, a bit of overstimulation

Requested: by @18autumngirl for their friend's birthday, their birthday's the 30th if I remember correctly, so this is coming out a little early, so happy early birthday to them!

Your best friend Mingi has been on tour with his band, but never missed a day of calling you to listen to you rant about your day, but as you look at the clock in your living room, you realize its getting late, and he is yet to call. You sigh, and get up to start on dinner, putting music on, of course it's his, it always is. As you're listening to the music and stirring the contents of the pan, you start realizing just how much you miss him, so you decide to grab your phone and text him, asking if everything's alright, telling him that you're worried since he hadn't called or texted all day. You sit your phone back down on the counter, sighing again, but continuing to cook your meal. The music is to loud for you to hear a key being put in the door of your apartment, but you feel the cool breeze from the hallway make it's way inside, and you turn around, slightly alarmed. When you realize that it's your best friend standing in the doorway, you can't help but run to him, excitedly.

“Why didn't you tell me you were coming?” you say, tightening your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug.

“I wanted to surprise you for your birthday”

“well it's one hell of a surprise, I fucking missed you”

“i missed you too” he says, placing his hands around your waist to lift you and spin slightly, before setting you back down. He breaks from the hug, and gives you a soft smile

“What’s for dinner? It smells amazing” you laugh at him, before making you both plates and sitting down on the couch. You end up watching a movie you both have seen at least a hundred times, and as it progresses, you end up cuddling next to each other, which isn't out of the ordinary for the two of you. What is out of the ordinary, however, is Mingi’s hold on your waist as you lay your head on his chest. Almost like he couldn't stand to let you go in the moment. You make no move to loosen his hold on you, and just continue staring at the television, although you’re not so focused on what's going on in the movie anymore.

The movie ends, but this time it felt like the same film you watch all the time had doubled in length, and still neither of you have made any move to get up, and are both sitting, looking at the screen absentmindedly as the credits play. Only after the screen fades to black, do you finally decide to get up, to take the dishes from the long forgotten meal to the sink. Mingi trails not far behind you, neither of you saying a word, and both of you feel the tension setting in the air as you begin to wash the dishes. After you're done, you turn to look for a towel to dry your hands off with, but Mingi stops you, standing very close in front of you, with you looking up at him with confusion on your face.

“God, I fucking missed you” he says as he cups your cheeks in his hands, kissing you. Your eyes widen in shock, before closing as you kissed him back. He backs you into the counter slowly, and you let out a slight yelp from your back touching the wet counter from where you were washing the dishes. He pulls away, and looking at you with an expression of worry, almost a nonverbal way to ask if he had done something wrong. You walk back towards him, and attach your lips back to his, before walking away towards your bedroom. He takes the hint, and follows close behind, shutting your bedroom door behind you both, and pulling you back towards him, kissing you again, before walking you backwards to your bed. Your calves hit the bed, and you fall back, with him landing on top of you, never breaking the kiss. Both of your hands start to silently wander on the other person's body's, finally seeing each other in a different light.

He goes to take your shirt off, but not before looking at you with the same expression from earlier, but this time with a bit of excitement on his face, silently asking if you want him to continue. You smile up at him, nodding slightly before he pulled your shirt above your head. He begins palming your naked breasts as he kisses your neck. He slowly trails his mouth lower, stopping just above your panty line, before taking his own shirt off. He plants a final kiss on the center of your underwear before sliding them off, and gliding his fingers through your folds. You sit up on your elbows to watch him as he begins licking at your cunt. He puts two fingers into you, slowly sliding them in and out to stretch you, but as he looked up at you in time to see your eyes rolling back, he sped up his pace. You reach out to grab his head, pulling him back down to your clit, and when he starts eating you out messily, your elbows give out from under you. He reaches with his hand that's not preoccupied, and holds your hand, rubbing soft circles into the heel of your palm slowly, which is very different from the now brutally fast pace he’s set with his other hand, curling his fingers into the spongy part of your walls. You throw your head back, moaning quite loudly, feeling your orgasm build.

“There you go, baby, come for me” he says, face still between your thighs, and the vibration from his voice sends you over the edge of climax, as you cum on his face. He doesn't stop, but does slow down quite a bit to let you ride out your orgasm. When you pull him away, the overstimulation getting to you, he smiles at you lovingly before glancing to the side of the bed.

“what are you doing?” you ask, following his eyes to the digital clock on your nightstand. You watch the time change to midnight with him, before he turns back to you.

“Happy birthday! Want your present now?” He asks, with a smirk on his face, before standing, and ridding himself of his pants and underwear. He climbs back on the bed, adjusting your legs to straddle his hips as he lines himself up with your hole. He kisses you again as he slides himself in fully, as you whine from his length. You feel so full of him as he begins thrusting into you softly. Though it doesn't stay that way for long. He starts fucking you rougher, as he hiked your leg higher on his torso, and begins kissing your neck harder than before. If he didn't leave marks earlier, there will definitely be some now, but you're not thinking much about that, honestly you're not thinking much at all, all too focused on Mingi's movements. He holds your hand again, while his other hand pushes lightly on your stomach to apply pressure on your g-spot from the outside. It doesn't take too long from all of the stimulation for you to cum again.

“Flip over baby” he says, helping to guide you on your hands and knees. He slides back in, fucking into you slow and deep. He grabs your shoulders to pull you back to him, so your back is against his chest. He moves one of his hands to wrap around your midsection tightly, while the other one goes to your clit, rubbing in circles.

“I love you so much” he says, as his thrusts grow more sporadic, nearing his climax. “Come with me baby, please” his voice having a slight whining tone to it.

He rubs your clit faster, and you feel the knot in your stomach thicken, and your moans grow louder. You feel Mingi start to twitch inside you, and you tell him you're close to coming. He bites on your shoulder lightly to muffle his moans as he cums inside you, with you following close behind. You guys stay like that for a second, with you in his arms, basking in the in each other's warmth, before he pulls out, and helps you to lay down, your legs growing stiff from putting your weight on them. He lays beside you, and you rest your head on his chest, before speaking

“i love you too, Mingi” you look up at him and smile, curling into him more.

“happy birthday, love” he says, grabbing your hand that's on his chest, and rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. You end up falling asleep like that, and Mingi lays there, admiring you for a little while, before drifting off to sleep himself.

[inmoonsblood]

lover : percy jackson

book percy jackson. unspecified godly parent!reader. takes place around two years post trials of apollo. both of them are in college. 815 words.

synopsis: "like hell! the only one who can get me away from you right now is my mom." ; ft; late night rain dancing, taylor swift playing, warm towels and a shit ton of kisses from your second favourite person in the whole wide world.

note: repost 1 from my old account! i love this fic so so much, but i need to heavily stress that this (and all my percy fics) are for book percy, (17-18 year old) i don't write for show percy as of now. an old fic written before the show came out, so please, be nice to me, directly reposted from @the-ink-of-roses incase you've read it before!

percy's hands slip around your waist, your back to his chest, as he picks you up and gently sways the two of you to the beat of 'love story' by taylor swift while he hums the lyrics under his breath.

he tugs you closer and presses a kiss to your cheek and jaw, resting his head on your shoulder later. you giggle when he does that, turning your head slightly to kiss his forehead.

the playlist probably ran out ages ago, now you two are staying afloat purely on the will of the spotify lords and their music choice, but as long as it's a song that either you or percy know, it works.

(anything works, to be honest, just as long as percy's here, behind you, holding you like you're the one thing he never wants to lose. as long as you have that, you know you've won. as long as percy jackson holds your hand and kisses your cheeks, gods, you'll take anything.)

new rome is fun, it keeps life interesting in a way that doesn't risk you, him and annabeth going out on quests--and annabeth having to mock throw up every time you two kiss even if you know she's just as terrified as you two.

swords and running from medusa's sisters (or medusa sometimes. yeah aunty em was NOT happy last time you met her, apparently she still remembered the store circus thing even if it was more than seven years ago) were replaced with chasing deadlines and seeing how many energy drinks you guys can stomach.

you're in new york right now, staying at sally's (when she learnt you were going to spend the holidays in new rome, she demanded her son get you home. no way in hell is estelle's favourite person going to stay alone for the holidays), and like the two very smart heroes of olympus you two are, you're out here dancing in the rain.

it's a little silly, yeah, but in your absolute defence, this started out as percy trying to teach you how to skateboard before the rain, and neither of you are going to let that ruin a date for you (by extension let zeus ruin another date for you, even if this isn't aimed at you--probably not aimed at you), so you two made the best of both worlds, thanking the gods the speaker piper got for you is waterproof. (in hindsight, percy is also waterproof, he just likes this better. despite the inevitable cold coming in soon for both of you).

with one last strike of thunder, the rain slowly dies down, leaving you and him in the park as the spotify lords finally give up on you two.

percy drops you suddenly and you have only two seconds to squeal in absolute surprise before you're turned around to face him this time. he's grinning at you with a look of absolute mischief--you're sure connor and travis had the exact same look before they shoved you into the pool last time you guys visited camp half blood. of course, percy was in there but something tells you that was their goal.

he looks so pretty you could cry.

and this pure boy, who smiles secretly to you, looks at you like you're the one at the centre of his universe, the one who holds your heart. this same boy has given you his, asking only for your love in return, something you're more than happy to give him.

before you can ask him what he's up to, percy suddenly shakes his hair, causing all the water to fly everywhere, including on you.

you almost yell in surprise but with a small chuckle bite back. doing the same, as both of you laugh while shaking your heads to have the water droplets go around everywhere.

it's probably a weird sight to watch--two teenagers, drenched in water, shaking their heads like there's no tomorrow while holding each other, but you don't really give four fucks.

once your head starts hurting, you stop and cup percy's face, getting him to stop as well. your other hand slides into his hair, messing it up further as the hand on his face guides him for a kiss.

he lifts you up again and twirls you--no doubt to get another laugh out of you--before setting you down.

percy doesn't let go of your hand either, not when you pick up your stuff and head to sally's (your current favourite person in the world), not while the two of you are lectured by her on colds coughs and fevers in this weather, not even when warm towels are given to the two of you.

not even when you two keep sneezing the next day to no one's surprise.

[daisymbin]

27. "did you plan this whole day just to make me happy?"

reader plans a perfect date with seungkwan doing all the things he enjoys (maybe karaoke? and serenading him with his favorite song)

GRRR CUTE!!!!!!!

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // boo's m.list

fluff prompt #27: "did you plan this whole day just to make me happy?"

seungkwan had barely finished his coffee when you tugged him out the door, an excited glint in your eyes and a mysterious grin on your face.

"where are we going?" he asked for the third time, his steps quick to keep up with yours.

"you’ll see," you said, refusing to give him anything more than that.

he huffed, but there was no real annoyance behind it. if anything, he was intrigued. it wasn’t every day you were this secretive, and the way you kept looking back at him with a barely-contained smile only made him more curious.

the first stop was a cozy little café tucked away in a corner of the city. the atmosphere was warm and inviting, with soft music playing in the background and the smell of freshly baked pastries in the air.

"you always say eating their blueberry muffins make you happy," you said, sliding a plate toward him.

"because they do," he replied, his mood instantly brightening. "how did you even remember that?"

"i listen when you talk, seungkwan," you teased, taking a sip of your drink.

he tried to brush off the way your words made his heart flutter, but the soft smile on his face betrayed him.

the next stop was the real surprise—a private karaoke room.

"you didn’t," seungkwan said, eyes wide as you handed him the microphone.

"i did," you replied, grinning. "now show me what you’ve got, boo seungkwan."

it didn’t take much convincing. seungkwan was in his element, belting out ballads and pop hits with all the passion in the world. you clapped and cheered after every performance, your laughter filling the room whenever he threw in a dramatic pose or an exaggerated wink.

"your turn," he said, holding out the mic.

"oh no," you said, shaking your head. "this is your day."

"then humor me," he countered, giving you a look you couldn’t refuse.

reluctantly, you took the microphone and picked one of his favorite songs. as the music started, you caught his gaze, and the playful teasing in your eyes melted into something softer.

"are you… serenading me?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

"maybe," you said, your tone light but your eyes sincere.

he didn’t even realize he was holding his breath as you sang, your voice filling the room in a way that felt intimate, like this moment was just for the two of you.

after karaoke, you led him to a small park, where a picnic blanket and a basket of his favorite snacks were waiting.

"okay," seungkwan said, sitting down beside you. "this is getting suspicious."

"what is?" you asked, feigning innocence as you handed him a sandwich.

"you," he said, turning to face you fully. "did you plan this whole day just to make me happy?"

you paused, caught off guard by the sudden seriousness in his tone. "well… yeah," you admitted, a little shy now. "you’ve been so busy and stressed lately. i just thought you could use a day to unwind. and… i wanted to do something special for you. make you happy a little." you confessed.

his heart clenched at your words, a warmth spreading through his chest. "baby," he said softly, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place.

"what?" you asked, a little nervous under his gaze.

"you’re too good to me," he said, shaking his head with a smile that was equal parts fond and amazed.

"you deserve it," you replied, nudging his shoulder.

"no, really," he insisted, his eyes searching yours. "you didn’t have to go through all this trouble."

"it wasn’t trouble," you said, your voice firm. "& i wanted to."

he stared at you for a moment, his usual quick wit and humor nowhere to be found. instead, he reached out and took your hand, his thumb brushing against your knuckles.

"thank you," he said quietly, the sincerity in his voice making your cheeks warm.

"you're welcome," you replied, squeezing his hand gently.

and as the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, seungkwan decided that this was one of the best days he’d ever had—not because of the karaoke or the picnic or even the blueberry muffins, but because it was all done by you, for him.

[littleslaywrites]

dixieland delight | professor!spencer reid x student!reader 

summary: spencer reid is your professor, and you find out he’s never been to a football game. you take him to the last game of your senior year. (in honor of going to my first iron bowl tomorrow. roll tide beat auburn.)

word count: 2.3k

cw: f!reader, fluff, minor age gap (reader is 21, spencer is about 15 years older), possibly niche references to bama gameday traditions, excuse to write fanfic of bama winning since we can’t do that irl this season apparently

As Spencer Reid’s student, you spent a good amount of your time visiting during his office hours. In fact, that’s how you got close enough to him that he asked you to become his girlfriend about six months ago. It was his first year teaching, and your final year in college. You assumed, considering that football was a prominent part of the campus culture, that he had been to at least one game this season. Therefore, it came as a surprise to you when he revealed that he had never been to any college football games. Something about him being a little too young and far too nerdy to enjoy the environment.

You had made it your mission for the past two months to convince him to come with you to just one game. He was resistant at first, but eventually you convinced him to attend the last game of the season. Your selling point was that it would be a great way to observe the minds of college students. A weak argument, sure, but he secretly wanted to spend time with you. It was the school’s big rivalry game, and he felt that he should experience it just once. He thought of it as an opportunity to do something he could never enjoy when he was younger, and if he could go with you, that would make it even better.

The week before the game, you made sure to prepare him for the traditions. First and foremost, you went to the store on campus and got him a polo with the team logo. He had to wear something nice to match you, but he couldn’t wear a suit and tie, or he’d end up looking like a pledge. You gave it to him in a gift bag with tulle, along with a shaker in the team colors. When you presented it to him, he was grateful for the gift, but not too thrilled about the outfit. You eventually convinced him to wear it, saying that he’d stick out in his usual outfit. You couldn’t convince him to forgo the mismatched socks, though. Next, you sent him all the chants and songs he would need to learn, Dixieland Delight being the most important. His reply was something about chants being passed down to each generation and popular culture transitioning to folk, but you were more focused on him focussing on not messing up the words come the fourth quarter. It was just one instance of many where you were grateful for his eidetic memory. Most importantly, you make sure he remembers the four most important words in the English language: “Roll Tide” and “Beat Auburn”. 

The morning of the game, you wake up bright and early at 8am. You told Spencer to meet you outside of your sorority house at 9:30. He was a little taken aback, considering the game didn’t start until 2:30, but you insisted on him getting the full experience, including early morning tailgating. It took you longer than usual to get ready, considering it was a full glam event. You put on your dress and boots, put your gameday pin on, and walked down the stairs, grabbing a sticker with your letters on it for Spencer. 

He is waiting outside your house, looking slightly out of place in the enthused crowd of girls that were taking pictures along the row. 

“I like the shirt,” you say, complementing your own taste.

“Thanks,” he replies, “I had a fantastic personal shopper.”

You laugh, pressing the sticker on his chest. He politely grabs your hand, intertwining his finger with yours.

Making your way to the quad, you tell him about who you’d be tailgating with. Some were clubs and organizations you were in at school, others were friends that lived nearby. He listens intently, curious about the peek into your world. 

“I brought earplugs,” he says as you walk to the grassy plain of pop-up tents. 

“Are you serious?” you say, lightly laughing at him.

“You know, repeated exposure to loud noise due to crowds can cause permanent hearing loss, especially–”

“Alright, I get it.” You smile at his aversion to even the slightest form of risk-taking. It’s hard to believe he rushed into danger as a special agent, but his innate instinct to help others must’ve driven him, you conclude. He smiles back, admiring your outfit and hair. He hardly ever gets to see you done up like this, so the picture of you makes his heart flutter like the first time he saw you.

By the time you’re done tailgating at about one, Spencer is tired from all the social interaction. Of course, he enjoyed meeting your friends, but he’s not necessarily the social type. Noticing his quickly draining social battery, you reassure him that he won’t have to be as conversational once you get to the stadium. 

“I know it’s a little hectic,” you reassure him. “Believe me, I was just as lost as you were as a freshman.”

You think of yourself at the beginning of college, an out-of-state freshman who’d never been to a big SEC game before. You were grateful for your sorority sisters who had shown you around, and you were excited to be that person for Spencer.

You stand together outside of the steps of the library, watching the band play the elephant stomp. Once they finish their routine, you follow the band, along with the crowd, to the stadium. Spencer is mesmerized by the crowd and their traditions, as well as their passion for the team. You follow his eyes, seeing your younger self in him, a reversal of the usual dynamic where he sees his younger self in you.  

His one request was that you wouldn’t sit in the student section. He could picture how thousands of drunk college students would be, and decided that it would set his germaphobia off as soon as he got there. You two are sitting near the field, Spencer not minding spending the extra for a better view. As you told him, if he was going to do it, he should do it right.

Before you take your seats, you stop by the concessions. You get stadium essentials: pretzels, Denny dogs, and popcorn to share. When you walk out of the tunnel, Spencer is instantly blinded by the sun. The fans are astonishingly excited, considering there’s still 45 minutes until kickoff.

“Are they a little more peppy than the crowds at your comic cons?” you ask, seeing his eyes widening.

“A little.” he smiles down at you, following the lead of your clomping boots up the stairs. 

When the game starts, he follows along in the fight song, thankful it’s not too hot. He brought sunscreen along, explaining to you that UV is damaging even when it’s cloudy. At his request, you put it on, wanting to make him happy. 

Throughout the game, you lean in to his ear to explain the plays. He opts not to wear the earplugs, wanting to hear every word you say. 

“So they get four more downs?” he asks after one particular play where the announcer calls out “first down Alabama”, and the crowd replies with a Roll Tide. 

“Exactly,” you say, proud of how fast he’s learning. “You're almost as good of a student as you are a teacher.”

He smiles at your compliment. “It helps when the rest of the crowd is giving hints.”

At halftime, he finds he enjoys the band performance a little more than the actual game, but he’d never tell you that. He makes sure to sing along when they play “Yea Alabama”, knowing it’ll make you proud of his memorization. Your enthusiasm in his interests made him feel supported, and he wanted you to feel the same. He knows what it’s like to be ignored when ranting about whatever fun facts he had to share, so he takes effort to not make you feel the same. 

He tentatively wraps his arm around your waist, reassured when you lean into him. He’s always nervous to be affectionate with you, knowing you were worried at first how people would see you when you started dating. Slowly, you got more comfortable in his presence, allowing him to steal a kiss every now and then. He was professional in class, but after that, you were just like any other couple. In a sense, the game was a milestone. Not only were you in public with him, but surrounded by your peers. It warmed his heart that you were proud enough of your relationship to let others see you with him. He always feared he would date someone who would be embarrassed by him, but you were the opposite. You were enamored by everything about him, you loved his brain, his looks, his heart. Enough that you even asked the people sitting behind you to take pictures of the two of you. 

You smile down at the image, the two of you in your gameday outfits with the field behind you. 

“You look downright southern,” you say, turning your phone to show him. 

You both laugh at this, him asking you to send the picture to him. He likes to print his photos out, organizing them in physical albums rather than on his phone, like you did. He makes sure to remember to get an extra for you. 

At the start of the fourth quarter, they play “Basket Case” by Green Day, the only song he knew before his lessons in football. He dances along with you, embarrassment escaping him due to your carefree moves. 

It’s not too sunny but not too cold, the perfect weather, in your mind, for a game. You wish it was a night game, but the rivalry makes up for it. 

When “Dixieland Delight” comes on, he pulls out the shaker you bought for him. 

Holding my lover with the other, a sweet, soft, Southern thrill 

For a moment, he understands why the crowd doesn’t make you feel claustrophobic.

Hold her up tight (against the wall), make a little loving (all night) 

There’s a unity he feels with the other fans as they chant the same words as him.

The sun begins to set over the stadium, dipping below the edge of the upper bowl. You comment on it, and Spencer says something about why the colors look the way they do, but you’re instantly distracted by the Tide running in the game winning touchdown with a 1:32 left in the fourth quarter. The stadium erupts right as Spencer finishes talking, confusing him as he wasn’t really watching the game as his attention was on you. 

You’re jumping around and cheering, so he joins in. He would usually feel weird being so enthusiastic, but with the crowd all screaming, he’d almost feel weirder if he didn’t. As the clock runs down, he remembers the final tradition of the game: Rammer Jammer.  

When you made him learn all the traditions, you told him that this one was for when you won. Not if, but when. He pointed out your phrasing, but your reply was only “we’re Alabama, of course we’ll win”. 

You assumed prior to the game he’d be opposed to heading down to the strip afterwards, considering the crowd would probably pack the streets. He didn’t seem like the type of guy to go to Rounders, anyway. However, as everyone filed out of the stadium, he turned to you and asked what you were doing after the game. 

The high from the win was infectious, and, realizing how fun your traditions were, he wanted to do it all. 

“What about Taco Bell?” you ask, making the executive decision to rule out any bars. He agrees to that plan, holding your hand as you two walk down University Blvd, packed on all sides by the celebrating students. 

“You people go crazy when you win, huh?”

“You should be glad this wasn’t against Tennessee,” you reply.” “I would’ve made you pull out a cigar with the rest of the crowd.” 

He smiles, just slightly concerned at the tradition, but choosing not to mention the health risks of smoking. Since you’ve been dating, he’s loosened up, your spirit infectious. 

Crammed between the rowdy crowd, he looks at you and smiles. He can tell you have a hint of concern for him, so he squeezes your hand, signifying that he’s enjoying himself. 

“I’m glad you convinced me to come,” he says, taking in the energy. 

“Me, too. I just wish I convinced you before my last home game.”

“I guess we’ll just have to come back next year.”

This makes you blush, being the first time he’s mentioned anything long term. Part of him enjoys seeing your reaction. He’d usually fumble over his words, explaining himself away, but he sticks with it this time, meaning what he says about the future. 

The two of you grab your food, watching everyone on the street from inside. 

“A little different from CalTech?”

“A bit,” he smiled. “I wouldn’t call it a party school, and we sure didn’t do football like you guys do.”

“Ever wish you went somewhere down South?”

“I think today was about enough for me.” 

You both laugh at this, knowing, even if he wasn’t as young as he was in college, he wasn’t in his element. 

He walks you back to the house afterwards, hugging you outside the door. In bed that night, you find yourself smiling at a future where you can drag him along to more games, hoping his comment of “next year” would ring true by then. Or this year would work better, a playoff at Bryant-Denny or even the Rose Bowl. Now that you thought about it, that’d be even better. You fall asleep with visions of a national championship (with Spencer and you in the crowds watching) dancing in your head. 

Lucky as a seven, living in heaven with my dixieland delight

a/n: This fic is majorly based on my own life and my own daydreams about our boy Spencer if he worked at my school. Reading it over it sounds like I’m crushing on bama football more than Spencer (which might be true oops). Anyway, I'm gonna start going thru requests soon but I just had to put this idea into writing 🫶

[amazingmsme]

Last night I had an idea for an epic AU that is either really cool or really stupid.

So basically, the gods can be killed. But only with one specific weapon or tool that is special or sacred to them. For example, the Spear of Athena, or Demeter's labrys (a double headed axe for woodcutting). If they are wounded with that weapon, they might as well be mortal. Anything else, they can heal from. But this? Nah.

Which brings me to the next part. So remember how Poseidon is turned into Swiss cheese in 600 Strike? Well, Poseidons weapon, the one that can fatally harm him, is nothing other than his trident. You know, the very trident that Ody used to make him more see-through than cheap toilet paper.

So, I imagine that 600 Strike goes as normal, but Poseidon lives long enough to gasp out the word "please" like he does in the song, and then he just dies. Odysseus is confused as hell. He kinda pokes him with the trident, like "why is he just lying there?" Only to look on, horrified, as the god's body turns into a puddle of seawater and merges with the rest of the ocean.

(Now the fun part) After around 3 seconds Odysseus feels a white hot pain all over his body, before promptly blacking out.

When he comes to, the storm has faded away, and the sea is as calm as a sleeping toddler. He sighs and gets up from the rocks he was laying on, only to realize that everything felt off. Now is he going crazy, or is everything more defined and colorful? And his hearing sounds like it got better as well. And the ground seemed farther away than normal. Had some god blessed him? Was this Poseidon's way of conceding their battle? No, that can't be right. The trident is still lying there. Odysseus reaches to pick it up, and freezes in shock.

His fingers have membranes in between them.

It's only then that he takes a good look at himself. There are patches of scales all over his arms, legs, and torso. He now has fins on his arms and legs, and ears as well. His nails have gone from blunt to long and sharp. Pulling a lock of hair in front of him shows that it's longer than it used to be, with streaks of blue and teal. Catching his reflection in the water shows him that his eyes have changed from brown to a striking aquamarine, and the whites have turned black and, are those fangs?

Something is terribly wrong here. While he is sifting through all of the possible causes in his head, he hears a voice to his right. It's a merman. Why is he calling Odysseus "My lord?" What is going on?

On Olympus, the gods are shocked that one of their own had been killed. Then, as the implications begin to dawn on them, they feel something that a god never feels. Fear. One of the strongest Olympians was killed by a mortal. Could this happen to the rest of them as well.

Back on that rocky patch, Odysseus came to a sudden, chilling realization. He looked at the water around him, and tried to will it to do something, anything. To his surprise, the water began to churn, before turning into violent waves, as the skies darkened again, reflecting the storm in Odysseus's mind.

Ody is no longer Odysseus, King of Ithaca. He is no longer the monster that Poseidon had turned him into. He is now Odysseus, God of the Seas.

It's a little rusty, but I thought it sounded like a cool idea. What do you think? Also sorry for the ramble.

- 🧁 anon

MDJSMSBDD LITERALLY LOSING MY FUCKING MIND OVER THIS OMGGGGG! I LOVE the idea of a god’s weapon being the thing that can kill them! & it adds so much weight to everything Odysseus already did to add killing a god onto that list is bound to have some kind of effect on him!

This is such a cool, interesting concept & I’m eating it up! Love the description of god!ody

[year2000electronics]

I’m also gonna propose the OTHER side of the coin.

Mom!Tippi

Wouldn’t it be so tragic if Timpani had been that much closer to Bleck this entire time? If potentially Luigi were to meet and befriend her, neither having the slightest clue who the other is, prior to the events of SPM? And by the time they do all realize who everyone is and fully reunite, they only have like 5mins max to cherish it before two of them have to sacrifice their lives to save the third :)

Then on the other hand it’s also lowkey kinda hilarious?

Tippi is just kinda going through the motions with the prophecy. No memories and very little sense of self, she’s putting all her focus on the Pure Hearts and stopping the Void. Very… clinical-like. And gradually she starts to open up more to Mario & Co, grows a bit more lively and starts remembering things.

Like her lost love.

So imagine her surprise as things are starting to click and she’s piecing things together, and for the latest piece to the puzzle, there’s her exchange with Bleck when the group’s confronted by the Count in Sammer’s Kingdom. And then he not only mentions the name “Timpani”, which is very familiar for some reason, but also mentions a son.

There are many questions once she’s got her full memories back. At least she thinks so, but she certainly doesn’t remember having a child with Blumiere before they were torn apart and she was cursed to wander dimensions forever! Who IS this child? Where did he come from? What does this mean? Does this make her a mom? Will the child want her as a mom? Can she be a good mom? This was way less terrifying and complicated when it was just saving all reality from violent oblivion!

At first she thinks it’s Mr. L based off observations from the heroes’ fights against him. But then surprise! It’s actually Luigi! The sweetheart boy she’s known and befriended a few years prior to the adventure… how they were this close to have preventing it altogether had they figured it out sooner.

Picture the final thing that confirms for them both without a doubt their shared connections to Blumiere with the MOTI song that’s the duet to the Memory/Bounding Through Time track. A cherished melody between the lovers when they were together, that was also used as a lullaby for Luigi as a kid when he had nightmares.

Btw Luigi and Tippi being amnesia buddies throughout Ch7 Underwhere and Overthere segment is super cute. Criminal that this wasn’t capitalized on in the game either, like c’mon! Amnesia Buddies! Just supporting each other and helping the other get through the more intense flashbacks when they hit in addition to quest/adventure stuff.

Makes Luvbi’s teasing comments hinting that Tippi’s got a crush on Mario, Luigi or both a lot more awkward, tho.

That awkward moment when you accidentally call your mom friend “mom” out loud to their face, but it later turns out she was your actual mom the whole time.

It’s hard to hug on account of Tippi being a butterfly Pixl, but she carries the intent when she sits on Luigi’s nose and stretches her wings out across his face as best she can.

…I have far too much to say on potential relationships between characters that barely interact canonically.

AW YES... let tippi and luigi bond theyve earned it

i think the funny thing about that, too, is that even though tippi and luigi don't get much together, tippi does have some VERY strong opinions on mr. l (calling him greasy, saying he's weak, and her tattle on him specifically says he has 'no other outstanding features of note') so if she thinks mr. l is bleck's son (instead of luigi) i'm sure her first reaction would be... Interesting... LMAO

[rakhalofthestars]

Trust Fall

Synopsis: Boothill loves eagles and wishes to mimic their courting ritual with you <3

Tags: Boothill x gn reader, Boothill's backstory mentioned, Pre-IPC boothill, Fluff, Humor, Light angst, Established relationship, courting rituals, Boothill is native american and latino a/n: This fic also has a bit more heavy usage of cowboy slang than all my other fics

Warnings: None !!

wc: 1 496

The people of Aeragan-Espharshel had many different beliefs, each one spread through word of mouth from parent to child. From the burning hot sun that gave life to the organisms on the planet to the tiny, hard-working ants. There were stories and legends behind each and every single thing, each having their own little tidbit of wisdom to learn from. Nothing was too small or too big for the people believed that we play our own part in the cycle of life, no matter our size or role. These beliefs reflected the tribe that inhabited the planet and the respect and love they held for the land.

Naturally, it’s no surprise that there would be stories and beliefs surrounding the eagle, which was seen as the mightiest of all birds. Its feathers symbolized that which is highest, bravest, strongest and holiest. Eagles were the symbol for a warrior.

It must be why you could find the bird all across Boothill’s person. The eagle feathers in his cowboy hat, which he had once fondly told you to have found one day with his siblings whilst running through the grassy fields. The small eagle on his left shoulder, attached to the burnt red sarape that he had managed to salvage from that fateful night. The small eagle insignia on his favorite 9mm gun, one that he had commissioned to be made from brass. The eagle on the back of his leather jacket which he had carefully painted using bleach, having even added a little cowboy hat to the bird to match him. You can easily remember how eager he had been to show you his more artistic skills, at least when it came to drawing eagles.

Boothill had always admired eagles. It was one of the few aspects of him that remained from who he was before the bombing. Before everything had quite literally turned into ashes.

Him and his fellow gunslinging friends of the past would often sit by a fire at night and yarn the hours away. Boothill would be lying on the soft grass, chewing on a piece of straw, his expression thoughtful for once as he’d stare up at the vast universe up above.

“Bee in yer bonnet, [REDACTED]?” One of them would always ask, having noticed the absence of his voice amongst the crude songs they’d have started singing by then.

“Jus’ thinkin’...”, would be his short reply, followed by one or two or the whole bunch prodding at him to spill the beans.

“Share yer wisdom, why dont’cha, O’ Great [REDACTED]”, they’d all tease and the young cowboy would laugh along good-naturedly.

“Was jus’ thinkin’ that I’d like to be one a’ them eagles up in the sky. Be as brave and courageous as them.”

“See, this is why I tell y’all to keep an eye on him. He’s an odd stick, ain’tcha [REDACTED]?”

But no matter how much his friends would tease him, Boothill’s admiration for eagles would never fade. He’d look to the great birds of the sky whenever he felt at sea. An age old habit that would stick until he fulfilled his role in the cycle of life. It’s what he did when the IPC had first arrived on his planet in their foreign and menacing spaceships, spouting off what he and countless others had thought to be taradiddles. It’s what he had done when trying his damndest to keep the corporation away from disrespecting the soil he had grown up on. It’s what Boothill does now when the weight of carrying out revenge gets too heavy for his shoulders, no matter whether they were flesh and bone or cold, hard metal.

Unsurprisingly, the man knew countless facts about these mighty birds. He had made sure to infodump about them when he took you bird-watching on planets that were similar to his home, thus housing the same or similar species of birds and the like. You were always curious and wishing to know more about your partner and his roots and who was he to deny you?

“See that one right there? That’s a bald eagle”, Boothill murmured softly one time against the shell of your ear once, pointing to the sky.

“How can you tell all the way from down here?” You asked, squinting into the binoculars that you were holding in your hands.

“Well, sugar, it’s because of that white noggin of theirs. No other eagle got that same appearance.”

“Did ya know that the eagle sound you hear in Penacony’s films ain’t actually the sound they make?”, Boothill would continue, ready to tell you the same little factoids and stories that his parents had told him.

You listened while watching the eagle. Well…you weren’t really focused on following the bird’s movements anymore. You were too focused on how the cowboy’s voice had softened its usual gruffness and laced with the aching feeling of nostalgia and homesickness.

During such moments, you usually rarely interrupted the man. It was clear as day to anyone with functioning eyes how much this meant for him.

However, your eyes caught a change in the eagle’s movements and you let out a surprised gasp when you see another bald eagle locking its talons with the one you had been following. To your horror, the birds had begun hurdling down towards the hard ground below, spinning in some form of cartwheel.

“Oh no! Are they fighting?”

Boothill looked questioningly at the sky, looking for what had caught your attention and chuckled fondly.

“Naw, don’t worry darlin’. That right there is what we call a death spiral. It’s like a courting ritual. Think of it as a type of trust fall.”

“What’s the point? Won’t they get hurt?”

*I just said it’s a trust fall, didn’t I?” An exasperated tone which quickly backtracked upon receiving a fierce glare from you.

“As I was sayin’... it’s a trust fall. That pair trusts each other to let go at the last second unless they wanna bite the dust….See?”

You had sighed with relief to see the bald eagles separating just before hitting the ground, quickly flying back up to the sky.

“Thank goodness… You still haven’t explained why they do it though?”

“It’s for courting each other. Eagles are one helluva adrenaline junkie. S’pose they want a partner who can give ‘em that rush.”

The two eagles interlocked their talons once more, spinning once more in the air as they fell. You watched in awe while Boothill watched you carefully, an idea taking root in his mind.

“Say…I reckon we should give it a shot too, sugar”, the man suggested and flashed you a toothy grin.

“Absolutely not. We’re not eagles, Boothill”, you refused almost immediately.

“Oh c’mon sugar, have some faith in yer man!”

The two of you went back and forth on the matter before eventually forgetting about it. At least, that was the case on your part. Boothill on the other hand…

–

“Your bounty is complete. How would you like to land?”

“...Good question.”

In truth, Boothill wasn’t too worried about the landing since he already could see you zooming towards him on an air-hover, ready to catch the cyborg. Oh, you were mad as a march hare alright.

“I’ve told you time and time again to have a better plan for these things!” You nag at him, your pretty face contorted with exasperation.

“Don’t get yer britches in a stir, sugar. I know what I’m doin’ “, Boothill drawls, looking too carefree for someone who was free falling through the air.

“You sure? ‘Cause it sure as hell doesn’t look like it!” You roll your eyes, following him down towards the ground on your hovercraft.

“I do, thank ya kindly. I got trust in you and mahself.”

“Take my hand then, you bag of bolts!”

“Not yet.”

It takes all your strength to not just up and leave the cowboy to fend for himself in such a situation but the thought of him potentially becoming a metal pancake stops you. You decide to trust his judgment, against your own better judgment. This wasn’t your first rodeo after all.

The two of you speed towards the ground, Boothill simply leisurely holding onto his hat while you were locked in completely, waiting for his signal.

Just a few seconds before you two would’ve crashed into the rock-hard ground below, Boothill whistles and with all your strength, you pull him onto your air-hover and promptly speed the vehicle back up into the sky once more.

“This is the last time we’re doing this”, you sigh, wiping the sweat off your brow.

“Come now, lovely. Ya gots to admit that it’s fun!” Boothill grins as he wraps his strong arms around your waist and nuzzles his face against your neck. You grumble at his actions but leave him be, opting to savor his closeness instead.

“Haven’t gotten your fill yet, lil’ eagle?”

“How can I, when I trust ya’ll catch me each time?”

[moowmoon]

LOVE'S MELODY

— aaron hotchner x toretto!fem!reader

— summary: after a long day at bau, aaron wants nothing more than to dance with his partner.

— c/w: fluff, just pure fluff.

— w/c: 1k

— a/n: hi! how are you guys doing? this is my fic entry to margovember, hosted by the amazing margot aka @pathologicalreid! this fic is also in my toretto!reader universe and, of course, i made aaron being a little bit swiftie (i'm new to this world, so please be nice with me) and have "cruel summer" as his favorite song! i hope you guys like it and let me know your thoughts, my ask box is always open to talk/share things! english is not my first language, so forgive me if there are any mistakes!

The room was plunged into a cozy dimness, illuminated only by the warm light coming from the lamp in the corner of the room. The soft sound coming from outside contrasted with the comfortable silence that filled the space; it was almost ten at night, and the city's nightlife seemed to have taken a day off. On the sofa, Aaron was sitting with a cup of tea in his hands, his shoulders finally relaxed after a long day at work.

She was lying with her head in his lap, leafing through a worn paperback, but the silence between them was like a silent embrace. A small smile appeared on Aaron's lips as he observed the tranquility of that moment. Then, without warning, an idea flashed through his mind like a bolt of rare spontaneity.

“How long has it been since we danced together?” he asked, his voice low but full of lightness.

She raised her head in surprise. “Dancing? Here?”

Aaron took a small sip of his tea before standing up carefully, moving towards the corner where the small, delicate speaker rested. With a few taps, music began to fill the room, the familiar melody bringing back memories of old stories and laughter that were hard to forget. He turned, holding out a hand with a shy but inviting smile.

“That song again?” she asked, laughing softly.

Aaron turned around with a twinkle in his eye. “Why not? Do you have something against the best dance song of all time?”

“Not exactly…” she stood up from the sofa, crossing her arms, an amused expression on her face. “But I remember well the last time you called it 'the best song'.”

Aaron frowned for a moment, pretending not to remember, before letting out an almost inaudible laugh. “It was at Dave's wedding, wasn't it?”

“Exactly. And I swear you stepped on my foot at least three times.”

“It wasn't that bad,” he retorted, but the slight redness in his cheeks said otherwise. “This time, I promise I'll make it up to you.”

“Let's see if practicing has really improved your performance.” she commented, moving closer to him.

With a deliberate gesture, Aaron held out his hand, a rare, relaxed smile lighting up his face. “Come on, I promise I won't step on your toes… several times, just a few.” 

She laughed, accepting the invitation — after all, it was hard to turn down an offer when Aaron smiled like that, so inviting and sincere. “I don't know what's more surprising: you're asking me to dance or trying to make a joke.”

“I'm full of surprises,” he retorted, gently pulling her towards the center of the room.

The music lulled their movements, but the initial rhythm was anything but elegant and coordinated. Aaron tried to lead, but his steps were so out of sync that everything went wrong. They bumped into each other, tripped over their own feet, and a laugh escaped her lips.

“Hotchner, you're terrible at this!”

He arched an eyebrow as they tried to adjust their rhythm. Even so, the steps were still clumsy, as if they were dancing for the first time. In a particularly comical moment, Aaron took an exaggerated turn, almost knocking them both over.

“Okay, now you're just making up moves!” she said, grabbing his shoulder to regain her balance.

Aaron smiled, his eyes shining with a joy that seemed as rare as it was precious. “It doesn't matter if we're off the pace. As long as we're together, everything will be perfect.”

The laughter began to subside, giving way to calmer, deeper breathing that matched the tempo of the music. Aaron watched her, her eyes reflecting a mixture of amusement and tenderness that made the atmosphere seem even cozier.

Her previously clumsy movements began to align themselves naturally, almost effortlessly. He wrapped one of his hands around her waist, while the other rested gently on her shoulder. She, in turn, slid her hands to Aaron's chest, leaning on him as if there were no safer place in the world.

Music filled the space around them, but the sounds seemed distant as if the moment belonged only to the two of them. Neither of them spoke, but the looks they exchanged said it all. The weight of everyday life, worries, and responsibilities seemed to dissipate, replaced by a quiet, deep connection.

Aaron tilted his head, resting his forehead against hers, his movements now so slow that they hardly seemed to be dancing. “I needed that.” he murmured, his voice low and husky, like a confession.

“Me too.” she replied, a soft smile forming as her arms now circled his waist.

And so they continued to sway to the music, leisurely, enjoying the comfort of being exactly where they belonged: in each other's arms.

The last note of the song hung in the air before disappearing completely, leaving the room plunged into a comfortable silence. But Aaron and his partner were still there, hugging each other, swaying gently as if the melody was still there, playing just for them.

Aaron's eyes were closed, his breathing calm as he rested his chin on the top of her head. The warmth of the moment seemed to arrest time, making everything slower, and more meaningful.

“You dance better without music.” she joked softly, her voice almost a whisper, laden with affection.

Aaron laughed softly, a sound so rare that his partner couldn't help but smile in response. He tilted his head, meeting the other's gaze, and the intensity there spoke more than any words could.

“Thank you for that.” he said, his voice low but full of sincerity.

“For dancing?” she asked.

“For reminding me what it's like to feel light.” he replied, a small but genuine smile forming on his lips.

She held his face gently, her thumbs tracing slow circles on Aaron's cheekbones before placing a light kiss on his lips. “Whenever you need me.”

Finally, they parted slowly, as if the moment called for caution, and returned to the sofa. Aaron settled down, pulling her close. The forgotten book was taken up again, but now the tranquility had a new weight: a comforting presence, woven by dance and shared intimacy.