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boldlyvoid · 3 years ago

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ain't it fun?

summary: reader just needs an NA meeting before they have a meltdown, they end up with the best friend they could ever make.

warnings: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Trauma Bonding, narcotics anonymous meetings, Strangers to Lovers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, meet-cute,

word count: 3.3K

a/n: this is completely self-indulgent and overly personal but i def recommend writing why spencer would love you as a form of therapy

read on ao3

In the blink of an eye, she was up and racing around her apartment. Her mental health was like a teeter-totter, and right now she was on her way to the top. Mania was creeping in; changing from just anxiety-induced butterflied to the feeling that she could jump off a building and survive.

That was never a good time. All she wanted was to either spend all her money, fuck a stranger or get high as shit. It made her legs jumpy and her ears ring and she couldn’t take it anymore. It was all too much.

She threw on a sweater and jeans, her hair was up in a butterfly clip and she hastily threw on her fanny pack full of everything she needed as well as a big coat, and she then left her apartment. She got to the stairs before realizing she actually needed to lock the door.

Her hands shook and she tried to slide the key into the lock, dropping them as her neighbour rushed out of the room and startled her. “Sorry,” she heard him say.

She picked up her keys and turned to look at him, “can you help me? I can’t seem to stop shaking,” she asked as she held her keys towards him.

“yes, sure,” he rushed the words out as he walked towards her, only looking at the keys, never in her eyes. But that was okay, she was never a big fan of eye contact.

He placed her keys back in her hand and took a step back, “are you alright?” he asked.

“No,” she said honestly. “I’m going to find an NA meeting.”

“Do you have one in the area? I haven’t seen you around before?”

She shook her head, surprised that he was also an addict, he didn’t look like he’s ever even smoked weed.

“No, I moved in only a little while ago on a whim, but I think it’s time I got some support,” she said as they started to walk down the hallway together. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Spencer,” he smiled softly. “I’m going to a meeting right now, actually, if you’d like to come? I won’t exactly be anonymous to you, but it’s a good one to go to if you just need one to fill the void until you find your preferred group.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I need.” She smiled at him this time as he held the door open for her. “So, have you lived around here for long?”

“For about a few years now.”

“The building is good then? I was a little hesitant but I needed to get away,” she said, this time holding the door for them to leave the building and turn down the street towards where she knew the subway was.

The moon should be out, she looked up but only sees buildings. It was the one thing she missed the most about not being in the country; seeing the stars and feeling like there was a reason to it all.

“Are you running from someone?” He asks as they start the walk down to the meeting.

“Myself,” she said softly. “I’m on disability and don’t drive and I lived in the middle of nowhere with my parents, well into my 20’s, and I needed a change so my parents surprised me by saving up money for a few month's rent and told me to follow my heart.”

“And you picked Virginia?”

“I stayed in Virginia, just moved into the city. I watch a lot of murder documentaries in my free time, I thought being near Quantico would introduce me to some interesting people, but I have yet to meet anyone from the FBI at all.”

She laughed to herself at how dumb it was that she wanted to meet a profiler like Holden Ford from Mindhunter, “either they are all very good at keeping their jobs secret or Virginia is a very large and densely populated area with a low percentage of FBI agents.”

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“How long have you lived here?” he asked, slowing as he walked so he could look at her.

“2 months.”

“It took you two months to meet the FBI agent across the hall from you.”

“You’re kidding?” she said, stopping on the sidewalk abruptly. “I knew that apartment was calling me for a reason.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but, are you really just coincidentally my neighbour or are you secretly spying on me because you have an evil plan to kill me and my co-workers?” he's completely serious, it's almost scary.

“No offence, Spence, but for a supposed FBI agent that’s a dumb question to ask,” she said, pointing finger guns at him, “you don’t think I’ll give up my cover that easily? Do you?”

He points a finger gun back at her, “technically, I’m a doctor.”

The two of them narrow their eyes at each other, slowly walking in a circle, still facing each other with their make-believe guns trying to hold back smirks. She lowered her ‘weapon’ first. “It’s okay, doctor, don’t worry. I’m not a spy just an idiot with an imagination.”

He giggled softly, “I’ve never felt this comfortable with someone this fast.”

“Well, you are with criminals a lot, right? That would be alarming if you bonded with them,” she said, bumping her shoulder into his as they walked. “But I feel the same. I actually haven’t talked to someone in person in forever.”

“No?”

“I do most of my work and socializing online,” She felt embarrassed, but in today’s day and age, it wasn’t that weird. “I’m not very good outside or with people.”

“If it wasn’t for my job, I don’t think I would go outside very often either. My co-workers are my only friends, they’re more like my family actually.”

“That’s so wonderful to hear, found family is very important,” her smile disappeared as she thought about how alone she was. “Um, can I ask what it is you do at the FBI?”

“Behavioural Analysis.”

“Holy shit," she gasps, knowing way too much about that unit thanks to fucking Netflix, "that’s what the BSU became right? Do you work with the really fucked up shit?” she asked softly.

He laughed, “oh yeah, I really do.”

“Do you share a lot at NA?”

“Kinda, I tend to ramble about facts when I’m nervous so sometimes my short talk becomes more like a ted talk and what was supposed to be just me saying I haven’t relapsed on Dilaudid becomes a lesson on how the human brain works,” he explained, rambling just like he said he would.

She nodded along as he spoke, “funny, that was also my drug of choice.”

“Liquid or oral?”

“Oral. I was given it after I had my appendix out when I was 17. They get you started real young now, big pharma has its hand in everyone's pocket,” she presses her lips together awkwardly, “it was rough.”

He hummed in agreement. “I was held captive by an unsub with multiple personalities. One personality drugged me till I died and the other one brought me back.”

“Spencer, Holy fuck?” she stopped and stared at him so incredibly concerned for someone who just met him. She reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder and looked him in the eyes, “I know I barely know you, but if you need someone to talk I’m literally always across the hall.”

“Thank you,” he smiled softly as he looked back into her eyes. “The meeting is right there across the street, do you want a coffee first? The place beside it is amazing.”

She nodded and he took her hand, looking both ways before J-walking across the street with her to buy her a coffee and a snack. Maybe that would help her stop shaking, he looked like he worried about her and she wasn't used to that at all.

He didn’t talk at this meeting, he sat in the chair beside the group leader, she sat down across from him in the circle so she could focus. When the floor was opened up to new members, Y/N stood at the first chance she got.

“Hi I’m Y/N,” she said, to which she was welcomed by the crowd.

“I’m new to the city and looking for a new home group, not sure if I’ll stay here because I know Spencer outside of here but I really just needed to come today.”

She takes a deep breath as she thinks of how to start it, opting to just explain it and let the rant go where it may.

“I’ve never lived alone before and it’s incredibly hard to occupy my time without drugs. I still smoke weed to help me sleep at night but my addiction is with Dilaudid and then Benadryl a little after having surgery in high school. I don’t know if it’s my trauma, my disability or my Autism, maybe it’s my OCD, I really don’t know, but I just feel so useless and alone and boring and lonely, the drugs used to help but they don’t anymore and I really just don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

They all looked like they understood, small smiles grew all around the circle as she took a lookout at the crowd, “Thank you for letting me get that out.”

Everyone clapped as she sat back down and wiped a tear off her cheek.

The meeting ended shortly after that, Spencer walked from his seat in the circle to where she was sitting, reaching a hand out to help her to her feet. “For the record, I think you’re funny, smart, kind and pretty. And you don’t have to be alone anymore if you don’t want to be.”

She slapped her hand into his and stood up with purpose, “Did we just become best friends?”

“I believe we did.”

The walk home was much like the walk there. They traded facts, they flirted, they laughed, she pushed him into a pole at one point, by accident as they laughed. The two of them stopping to sit at a bus bench, laughing so hard she felt like she would pee her pants right then and there.

By the time they were back on their floor, it was well after midnight. “I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to meetings with you.”

“Oh, why?” he looked disappointed.

“Isn’t rule 13 that you’re not supposed to want to sleep with your group members when you’re healing?”

“Wanting to and doing it are two very different things,” he corrected her as he waited at his own door.

She smirked, “you’re right. Still don’t think I can go back with you, however.”

“I’ll probably have a case tomorrow, they normally take me out of town for at least a week, but when I get back, can I see you?” he asked lightly.

“Knock on my door when you get back,” she said before standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “See you.”

“Bye.”

They waved from their doors before departing, excited by something that felt better than drugs.

—

120 hours later there was a light knock at her door, she knows exactly how long it’s been because she’s been counting and looking out the door at every noise for the whole time he’s been gone. Waiting for him like a wife whose husband went off to war, not knowing when their next correspondence would be.

“Coming,” she called, stopping to fluff her hair and straighten her glasses before she opened the door.

“Spencer!”

“Hi,” he said softly.

She took a moment to look him over, a little in shock at what she saw. He was in a plain t-shirt and track pants, he had not one, but two black eyes, bandages on his brow bone and scrapes all along his arms.

“Are you okay?”

“You should see the other guy,” he giggled softly, rolling his eyes.

“Come in, let’s sit you down.” She worried, taking him by the elbow and helping him inside.

“I’m fine, really, I’m used to this.”

“Well I’m not,” she reminded him with a nervous pout, “am I allowed to ask about it or is it classified stuff?”

He sat on the couch and patted a seat beside himself so she would join him. He rested his arm against the back of the chair so that she could slide in beside him.

“Did you hear about the child abduction in Tampa?”

“Yeah? The two boys?”

“I was trying to talk the unsub down and he dropped the gun but he grabbed me as I turned him around and punched me in the face and we fell into the ditch and I luckily managed to flip over him and get his hands behind his back and cuffed faster than I ever have before.”

“You’re amazing,” she whispered.

He laughed, “if I really was, I would have waited for backup before talking to the guy.”

“I’ve always wanted to help other people get justice but not being able to go to school makes it hard to get a job doing anything meaningful,” she whispered, ashamed of the fact she wasn’t successful like most people her age.

“Our technical analyst was hired because she was an amazing hacker, they will hire anyone who is valuable.” He shrugs and watches her face light up at the idea.

“You know what, we have meetings all this week unless there’s an emergency, if you want I can show you around the office?” he offered. “It’s not illegal for you to pass by what I’m working on and notice something I missed.”

“Spencer, I don’t even know your last name and you’re inviting me to your government job? When just last week you asked, not so jokingly, if I was a secret agent trying to kill you and that you’ve been kidnapped before?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid, and what can I say?” he said shyly, “I’m trying to find excuses to see you smile all the time.”

She placed her hand on his cheek, the tips of her fingers lightly resting on his purple and yellow bruised eyes. She leaned in slowly and kissed him on the lips, so gently as if she’s afraid he’ll break or turn into a frog… he was too good to be true.

“You can see me whenever you want, Doctor Spencer Reid…”

He kissed her again, letting his hands roam her back and she trailed her free hand down his chest. She pulled back slightly to throw a leg over him carefully and sit in his lap. Holding his face in her hands now, she peppered kisses over his bruised face.

She stopped to look at him, still holding his face in her hands as his hands now rested on her hips. “I really like you, Spencer.”

“Really?”

She looks at him carefully, analyzing his response and seeing the hurt that rested deep inside of him, “I take it you’re like me?”

“What does that mean?”

“You try to not get too involved with people because no one has ever shown you true genuine interest or love, and you never think you’ll find it anyway so you push away all small acts of kindness, thinking it’s friendly because then you can’t get your hope up, just to have that person drop them?” she explained herself in a whisper.

He nodded, “you get it.”

She kissed his lips again, and then over his cheek and up to his ear, “I do.”

He looked extra sad when she pulled away, she just held his face gently as she mirrored his puppy dog eyes. Communicating with their eyes, she knew he was okay and he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so she smiled.

“Want to watch a movie?” She asks softly.

He nods, looking behind her to see she doesn’t have a tv in the living room. “How?”

“In my room, the TV is on my dresser if you don’t mind sitting in my bed?”

He shakes his head in a simple no, picking her up and taking her to her room. He knew where it was purely because her apartment was just his but backwards. She laughs, holding onto him tight as she rests her head on his shoulder.

He sets her down gently, watching her move up to the headboard and wait for him. They got under the blankets and she found the remote in the sheet before she cuddled into him.

“You’re really cuddly,” she complimented him as he wrapped an arm around her and held her close. He kissed the top of her head as a thank you.

“I think I’m going to end up falling in love with you, Spencer Reid,” she whispers the words, afraid of them more than his response.

“I beat you to it,” he whispers right back.

She shoots up, turning to look at him with surprise. “How?”

He looks at her like she grew two heads, “what do you mean how?”

“How did you fall in love with me? You don’t even know me?” She’s so confused, no one has ever loved her before and it’s a lot to take in.

“Y/N…” his face drops, his heart physically breaks in front of her. “I don’t know you, you're right. Not all of you, at least. I’m sure you have your hidden doors and locked cupboards but from the outside, I see you’re so beautiful, you’re radiant… your mind is lovely. You’re so kind, you’re so brave, you’re everything I wish I could be as charismatically as you are.”

She’s just swallowing over and over as she shakes her head and breathes through her nose, processing it. She’s breathing deeply then, staring off and she feels like she’s having a new kind of panic attack. A happier one, somehow?

“I don’t like myself, but if you like me I guess I must be pretty nice,” she smiles, accepting his praise and believing him. “Yeah. Thank you, Spencer.”

He smiles then, it’s cute and press-lipped and she swears he almost has dimples. His eyes are like honey and his lips are like roses. She leans in, kissing him and reaching a hand back to cup the nape of his neck.

He doesn’t know it, but he’s the first person she’s kissed in a few years. They’re soft, peck after peck as they hold each other softly, eyes open as they watch each other experience the happiness of finding someone good, finally.

“I uh, I wanted to tell you I’m almost exactly everything you described yourself as in the meeting,” he whispers against her lips, the air touching her skin gently as she absorbs the words.

“What part? My diagnosis or my self-hatred?” She smiles, okay with either really.

“Almost both, I’m pretty hard to be around.”

She shakes her head, “I invited you in for a movie, not a pity party. You can tell me everything you hate right now and then we should just share the good parts okay? Brag about yourself. Tell me what you’re proud of.”

She was really serious, keeping a stern look on her face as she spoke. He nodded, “I’m anxious all the time, I’m always worried because I’ve never had anyone to worry about me. I don’t know how to be a real person really, all I do is drink coffee and solve crimes and I barely sleep. And the only time I was relaxed and okay is when I was on drugs.”

She nodded, “it fucking sucks, doesn’t it? Like why did we get stuck like this, I don't care about peaking in high school but didn’t we deserve some kind of love and support? I’ve never understood if souls and shit are real, why did mine pick this terrible meat suit and awful traumatic path?”

She’s crying because she’s angry and because she’s never said it to anyone before. He cries because she understands. She truly knows.

“I love you,” he announces. “Just because of that.”

Taglist: @blanchardsbk @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

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wint3rs · 4 years ago

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TRAGEDY, loki.

(a/n: i wrote this bc it’s comforting to think about loki when i get anxious :( he’s my comfort character, not to mention the loki trailer just dropped <3 if u want to talk i’m always here! ur beautiful <3)

– summary : you are his universe

– warnings : y/n feels insecure... curse words, death, self-doubt, mentions of stabbing and dying

they knew you were struggling. ever since you got back to the quinjet, you were quiet. no sarcastic remarks, no checking up on anyone – you were too busy with your own thoughts. no matter how hard you tried to get those evil words out of you head, you couldn't.

the mission was successful, to say at least. it was a typical rescue mission. once again, HYDRA had a secret base in munich, they were trying to replicate their old formulas, but to their luck – the avengers were there to save the day. you, being the first mutant in the group, just happened to encounter the strongest guy.

after your encounter, no one knew exactly what happened. "good work, y/n." tony was the first one to speak to you. you only nodded in response, not throwing any shades at him. for a second, the iron man furrowed his eyebrows, but brushed it off. "are you okay?" natasha sat next to you. once again, you only nodded.

the team arrived at the headquarters, you immediately went to your room – not wanting to be bothered by anyone. "unlike your super friends, you are different. you were born like this, a mutant, do you think they're not afraid of you?" his voice was still haunting you. “look around, you’re the monster here. not me. you'll never be a hero.” that was his last words before you took his senses.

you were powerful. powerful enough to be recruited by the avengers, and powerful enough to attract the god of mischief himself, loki. his older brother thought it would be a good idea to make his brother an avenger – in training of course. and lucky for you, you were the one helping him.

little did you know, you grew closer to him. not as his trainer, as his lover. it didn’t surprise everyone that there was something between you two. he was cunning, and so were you. there was a knock on the door, and you expected to see him, but it was bruce instead. “y/n, uh, sorry to bother you. but we’re thinking about getting dinner, do you want to come?” you shook your head.

“thanks bruce, but i think i’ll just stay here, incase loki comes back earlier from training.” he smiled apologetically. “we’ll get you takeouts, okay? no objection. i hope you feel better soon.” he closed the door. you heard footsteps outside your room as you closed your eyes.

maybe they were actually scared of you. maybe you don't deserve any of this. once you heard them leaving the floor, you silently walked outside and went to your secret place. an emergency staircase that led to the rooftop. no one uses it, so you figured that it would be a great place for you to just think.

thoughts like this rarely affect you, but when they do – it would take some time for you to get back into your usual self. you sighed in frustration, his words still repeating in your mind. "maybe i don't deserve any of this." you muttered to yourself, looking at the sky as if it was you friend.

"don't deserve what, darling?" his voice came from behind you. "loki." you avoided eye contact with him. and at that exact moment, he knew something was wrong. "darling?" the black haired god was walking to you, but you held your hand up, stopping him for a moment. "don't come near me."

loki's expression softened, which was a rare sight. you held a special place in his heart, like none other. "loki, stop." you lifted your arms, trying to cast a spell on him. "darling, you know it won't work for me." finally, you gave up on pushing him away.

you were sitting down on the concrete floor – trying your best not to cry. loki leaned on the wall opposite of you, silence filling the air. "do you want to talk about it darling?" you shook your head, still not making eye contact. "n- no." you stuttered. then again, only silence filled the air. "who do i have to stab?" he managed to let a chuckle out from you.

"you know i'm always here for you right, darling?" you nodded, slowly feeling his warm embrace around you. maybe talking to someone was the right thing to do. keeping it to yourself won't do you any good. "i know love, it's just..." you paused for a second. your sobs became louder and his embrace became tighter. "it's okay, love." loki brushed your hair with his fingers. "it's okay." he repeated.

"i'm a fucking tragedy." you sighed in frustration, eyes still not meeting his. "i didn't ask to be born like this, yet people still think i want this. my entire life is a tragedy, and i'm a monster in my own story. i don't want this loki, i don't even know if i want to be alive or not." he would always listen to you, no matter what it is or was – he was always there for you.

you let out your sobs, pouring everything out in front of him. "i- i'm sorry. i don't know, i- i don't deserve any of this. i'll never be a hero. people are afraid of me. i wish i was normal. i wish i wasn't like this." it was true that you sometimes wished you were like the normal civilians, but it was only a dream.

loki lifted your chin, his eyes were soft and caring. he was the god of mischief, but his eyes would never lie to you. "i've seen millions of stars before, aligning with the planets, meteor showers, full moons, all the beautiful cosmic ballads, i am as old as some of the stars – but nothing could compare to your beauty. darling, you are not a tragedy."

"you have your flaws, you have your insecurities, that's what makes you... well, you." he continued. "a thousand years i've been walking in these silly shoes and not even once i encountered someone as enchanting as you, it makes me sad that you think so low of yourself. every atom inside you came from above, that's why i love looking at the stars. they remind me of you."

with his words, you were left speechless. words couldn't describe how much you loved him. "loki..." you whispered. "i love you, darling. please don't ever say those things about yourself ever again. i would trade the universe for you." the black haired man smiled, giving you comfort. "i love you too." you hugged him, finally feeling better.

"now how about we go sightseeing tonight? i'll take you wherever you want to go, darling." you returned his smile and kissed him. "i'd be lost without you, loki."

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bowlegsandbiceps · 3 years ago

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Suptober Day 4: Secret

Secret Agent Man

Mature / Secret Agent!Cas/Domestic Dean / Destiel / 2,726 words

Read on AO3

Suptober Masterlist (A03)

Castiel’s heart hammered in his chest as he rolled to a stop on a nondescript residential street and killed the headlights. The entire mission was FUBAR, was from the start in all honesty but he never dreamed it would end up like this. He rubbed a hand over his mouth hard, glancing up at the small sliver of moon in the sky, and ran the call through his head again.

“Speak”

“C-C-Cas?” He remembered how every muscle had seized at the sound of Dean’s voice, tremulous and staticky on the other end of the line. He’d looked down at his phone, confirming that, no, he hadn’t accidentally brought his personal phone on a job. Dean was on the opposite end of a burner with only one contact and that could only mean one thing.

“Hello, darling.”

“Crowley.” Castiel had done his level best to keep his voice even and calm, no hint of the rage and turmoil roiling in his gut.

“Let’s not dally. You have something of mine. I have something of yours.”

“You’re suggesting a trade.”

“An even trade.” Crowley had emphasized. “I get the weapon, the money, a plane on the tarmac and a twenty-four-hour head start.”

“Is that all?” Castiel had been sarcastic, a knee-jerk response from years of having nothing to lose, and regretted it instantly.

“Buddy boy that’s generous considering what I could do to your young lad here. He’s a pretty one, Angel. Has a lot of fight in him too.” Castiel heard Crowley sniff and he hoped that Dean had broken his fucking nose. “One hour, Angel. Or the body you’ll be collecting will be his.”

Castiel lowered his head, hands still gripping the steering wheel tight as moments with Dean flashed through his mind. The night they met, him working security at an event Dean was catering and Dean permitting him to stop whatever threats emerged as long as Castiel stayed out of his way and didn’t touch his knives. Dean’s husky baritone as he sang “Secret Agent Man” at him from several yards away when they ran into each other at a festival a few days later, Dean tipsy enough to force Castiel to take his number and Castiel smitten enough to accept it, against his better judgment. The night Dean cooked for him and Castiel thanked him by carrying him off into the bedroom like they were in some romance novel, Dean’s ankles locked at Castiel’s lower back as he kissed the life out of him.

Castiel shook his head, cursed under his breath. He knew better than to form personal connections, but Dean with his mega-watt smile and terrible jokes had wormed his way past all Castiel’s defenses one home-cooked meal at a time until Castiel got sloppy. Now Dean would pay the price for Castiel’s foolishness, a burden Castiel didn’t think he’d be able to bear if he were to fail tonight.

So he forced himself to harden, feeling his insides solidify to stone and when he climbed out of the car he wasn’t Castiel, certainly wasn’t the man Dean called Cas in the tender moments they shared wrapped up in Dean’s sheets. He was the Angel of Death and he would neutralize this threat.

Silent as the grave, Castiel made his way up the street, staying in the shadows. When he reached Dean’s driveway he saw the Impala through the open garage door and slipped in next to it. The door was unlocked, a habit Dean had to break goddammit and Castiel slipped inside. He paused in the dark laundry room, startled for a moment to see Dean standing at the stove in his underwear, humming a Metallica song as he sautéed something in a pan. Dean seemed to catch movement out of the corner of his eye and when he turned to look Castiel could see the wound at his temple, blood tacky down the side of his face.

Castiel immediately lifted his finger to his lips but Dean just blinked at him and looked back down into the pan.

“Is that you, Angel?” Crowley’s voice crooned from somewhere past the doorway and Dean’s shoulders tensed, his spatula pausing. “Don’t burn the veggies, Dean. You don’t want to have to start over again.” Dean immediately lifted the pan and shook it, tossing the chopped peppers, onions and bits of ham with practiced ease.

Castiel strode forward, not bothering to silence his steps this time and he couldn’t stop himself from touching Dean’s shoulder as he passed though he didn’t look at him. Crowley was sitting at the small kitchen table, dressed sharply in a black suit with a blood-red tie. His nose was crooked and there was blood in his mustache and beard, something that caused Castiel’s lips to quirk in satisfaction though the gun casually pointed at Dean’s back soured his stomach. The table was set for three and Castiel glanced over his shoulder to see that Dean was now transferring the veggies onto a paper towel then began to crack eggs in a shallow bowl.

“You’re just in time for breakfast!” Crowley crooned, gesturing with the gun for Castiel to sit.

Castiel did so silently, taking the seat across from Crowley and directly behind Dean. Crowley adjusted his aim accordingly.

“So, rough night?” Crowley teased and Castiel merely stared back.

He could feel Dean moving behind him, his bare feet tapping against the linoleum as he turned to shuffle over to them. Dean, pan in hand and spatula poised stood over Crowley, face blank as he slid the completed omelet onto Crowley’s plate and made to turn to go back to the stove. Crowley’s hand shot out, gripping Dean’s wrist and Dean froze as Castiel snatched up a fork, stretching over the table, and pressed it to Crowley’s jugular. The gun in Crowley’s other hand went snuggly against Dean’s lower back, just above the band of his boxers.

“Easy, Angel. Easy now. I’m sure you wouldn’t want your lover here to lose all feeling below the waist.” Castiel’s eyes flicked to Dean’s face and found his eyes closed, face shuttered in forced calm. Castiel slowly lowered the fork and edged back into his seat. “That’s it. Now, Dean, be a dear and bring me the salt.”

“Taste it first,” Dean said over his shoulder and Castiel glared up at him. Dean shrugged his shoulders giving him a come on expression and Castiel was going to absolutely lose it if Dean’s irrational hatred of people seasoning their food before they tasted it was what actually got him killed.

Crowley laughed lowly, giving a tilt of his head as he used his fork to dig into the omelet. Steam billowed out, the scent of cheese and vegetables strong as Crowley forked a piece into his mouth. He rested his hands against the table’s edge as he chewed and gave another tilt of his head.

“You’re right. It’s perfect. Thank you, Dean.” Dean made to walk back to the stove but Crowley’s grip tightened, the gun pressing harder into his lower back. “Manners, lad.”

“You’re welcome,” Dean gritted out and Crowley finally released him, Castiel watching him pass and had to settle himself at the sight of the red mark left by the gun barrel at the base of Dean’s spine.

Crowley grinned at Castiel. “Nice little set up you got here. Stupid. But nice.”

“I don’t have the weapon.”

Crowley lifted a finger. “Ah but you have the location of the weapon. And what protections have gone into keeping nasty men like me from getting to it.”

“I was on the extraction team. You know very well that extraction and security don’t have anything to do with each other once the handoff is made.”

Crowley gave him a tart smile. “I also know very well that they trust you to handle both. Again…” Crowley’s eyes lifted over his shoulder but Castiel kept his gaze on Crowley, feeling Dean move around him to slide an omelet onto his plate. “Stupid.” The whisper of Dean’s fingers on his shoulder made every muscle in his body tense and Dean immediately pulled away.

“I don’t have the location of the weapon. I only have the drop-off location.”

Crowley pressed his lips together, displeased. “You also have the activation codes.”

Castiel hesitated, listening to the sizzle of eggs in the pan. “I have the self-destruct codes.”

Crowley grinned cheerfully, digging into his omelet. “Good enough for me.” Crowley’s eyes moved to Dean again and Castiel fought the urge to snap his fingers to regain Crowley’s attention. He didn’t have to. Crowley looked at him again, then gestured at his plate. “Eat!”

Castiel dutifully picked up his fork and speared into the omelet, shoving a bite into his mouth that took all the skin off the roof of his mouth. He chewed anyway. Dean was making his way back over, sliding his own omelet onto the final plate before turning to place the pan back on the stove. He hesitated there for a moment.

“Sit down, Dean we don’t want your breakfast getting cold.”

“It’s a little early for me.” Dean’s voice was controlled and even as he spoke to the stove.

Crowley rolled his eyes and cocked his gun. Dean’s shoulders tensed. “Get your pretty little ass over here and eat your breakfast, Dean Winchester. Or I’ll put a bullet in your boyfriend’s kneecap.”

Dean turned abruptly, hurrying to sit in the chair between the two men. He grabbed his fork and immediately sawed off a bite and shoved it in his mouth, chewing diligently. Crowley watched him as he opened his mouth to allow steam to exit, continuing to chew laboriously until he swallowed. Crowley grinned.

“He really is darling, Castiel.” Crowley’s eyes were roving over his face as Dean kept his eyes on his plate, cutting off another piece to shove into his mouth. “Didn’t give anything away and I put him through the wringer a bit there.” Crowley used the gun to indicate the hit to Dean’s head.

“Looks to me like he put you through it,” Castiel commented as he speared another piece of omelet contemplating it. “Must be humiliating to have your nose broken by a civilian.” Castiel ate it.

“Not nearly as humiliating as stripping him down so I could really appreciate him before he started cooking.”

Castiel stilled. Dean normally slept in his underwear. Castiel had figured that Crowley had gotten him out of bed at this late hour but then he remembered Dean had an event tonight. Castiel glanced at Dean, sucking in a deep breath, and over the smell of breakfast, he caught a whiff of Dean’s body wash, noted his hair was a little darker than normal, just the slightest bit damp. Dean’s eyes were closed, his jaw set as he held his fork in his fist and Castiel saw red.

Swift as a viper Castiel’s hand shot out, the fork sinking into the tendons of Crowley’s wrist, the same one holding the gun, as Castiel’s other hand went over the barrel, stopping the slide when Crowley attempted to pull the trigger. Dean had flung himself backward, chair skidding against the linoleum until he crashed back into the cabinets. One quick jab to the face, groaning through the pain of a fork stabbing into his chest just over his heart, Castiel managed to twist the gun in Crowley’s hand, his fingers limp from the damaged tendons, and without another thought, Castiel put a bullet in his brain and three more in the center of his chest.

Castiel was breathing hard, adrenaline scalding through his veins as he stared at the lifeless body sprawled back in the chair, brain matter and bits of skull spraying the wall behind him. His heart began to slow. The threat had been neutralized.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Castiel’s head whipped to the side, finding Dean still sitting, wide eyes filling with tears as his hands gripped the side of his chair frozen. Castiel hit his knees immediately, moving to tuck the gun into his belt behind his back before he cupped Dean’s face gingerly. Dean was shaking all over, teeth chattering and Castiel immediately shrugged out of his trench, a motion that sent pain shooting across his chest. He cursed, looking down and finding the fork still stuck in the meat of his pectoral muscle. He ripped it out, angrily tossing it aside before looking back at Dean just in time to see a single tear slip over his lashes and down his cheek.

Castiel gathered up the coat and threw it around Dean’s semi-naked form, pulling him off the chair and into his arms. Dean went willingly, his arms going around Castiel’s neck as he planted a knee on either side of Cas’ perching in his lap. Castiel ran one large hand up and down Dean’s back, shushing him as he trembled and cried quietly into Castiel’s neck, his other hand delving back into Dean’s hair. Castiel sucked in a deep breath that was all Dean, shampoo and body wash, and the unique scent of his skin. Castiel huffed it out in a sigh, hands going to Dean’s biceps to push him back so he could see his face.

“Dean.” Castiel held his face in his hands and Dean sniffled, shaking hands coming up to clutch at Castiel’s wrists. “Dean, I need you to be honest with me. Did he hurt you?”Dean shook his head, sniffling again. “Did he touch you at all?”

Dean shook his head again, swallowing hard. “N-no. He just watched me shower. The creep.” Dean let out a breath of a chuckle before he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut and tears cascaded down his face. Castiel snatched him close and Dean held on for dear life. “C-Cas?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“You killed a guy in my kitchen.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“You really weren’t kidding when you said your job was dangerous.” Castiel grumbled, holding him tighter and Dean pressed his face to Castiel’s neck. “Is it weird I wanna know how your omelet was?”

Castiel couldn’t help it, he laughed, pressing a kiss to Dean’s uninjured temple and Dean gave a watery laugh of his own.

“It could’ve used some salt.”

“Oh fuck you. Salt. Jesus.”

“Dean I’m-“

“Don’t.” Dean pulled back, reaching up to wipe at his face. “I’ve seen this part of this movie a thousand times. You’re gonna say you’re sorry because we can’t be together it’s too dangerous, blah blah.”

“Actually that’s not what I was going to say.”

Dean’s brow crinkled. “No?”

Castiel shook his head. “I was going to say I’m sorry you probably won’t get your deposit back.” Dean glanced over at the carnage behind the dead body sitting at his kitchen table. Castiel cocked his head to the side. “You’re taking this remarkably well.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m in shock.” Dean gave a sharp shake of his head as he tore his eyes away from the body and gave a shiver. “Do you need to like… call this in or… You’re hurt!” Dean’s hand immediately went to Castiel’s chest which was bleeding sluggishly.

“I’m fine. Nothing a bandage and a tetanus shot can’t fix.” Castiel ran a hand over Dean’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

“I hate that wallpaper, Cas, maybe the landlord will finally get rid of it.”

“No, I mean… when the shock wears off you’ll-“

“Still want to be with you,” Dean insisted arms tightening around Castiel’s shoulders. “Yeah that guy found me because of you but you also neutralized the threat.” Castiel felt a smile tug at his lips at Dean using his jargon.

“I let my emotions get the best of me.” Castiel touched Dean’s face gently. “It was a dumb move stabbing him. It’s sheer luck I didn’t get either of us killed.”

Dean turned his head, kissing the heel of Castiel’s hand. “You’re just a lucky guy, Cas.” Dean gave him a big smile, the one that never failed to render Castiel speechless. “You got me after all.”

Castiel huffed a laugh, his head dropping to Dean’s shoulder, and let his arms curl nearly double around him. Sirens could be heard in the distance, likely one of Dean’s neighbors called the cops at the sound of gunshots and Castiel relaxed into Dean’s hold as he began to hum “Secret Agent Man.”

#suptober21 #destiel #secret agent castiel #domestic dean #angst #mild gore #fanfic: supernatural #writing by me #non-consensual voyeurism

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lastbluetardis · 3 years ago

Text

Sacred New Beginnings (1/?)

Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong.

Ten x Rose AU, @doctorroseprompts

This Chapter: Teen, ~5500 words

Note: Er... surprise? This idea has been in my head for months but my brain took it and ran with it this weekend. I plotted the whole thing and am gonna try to update every weekend. I don’t anticipate this being more than like... 7-10 chapter? I’d love to keep it under 5 chapters but that might be trimming things down too much for my liking. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this little story!

AO3

Flashing lights and shrieks of his name greet James the moment the back door to his armored car is opened. His head of security ducks out first and James can only see a mass of feet and legs but it’s more than enough to let him know it’s a heavier than usual crowd. Not surprising, considering the news of his latest break-up just dropped while he’d been flying back from a visit to America.

He slides out of the car, helped by hands that pull him as much as guide him through the throng. He ignores the shouts of his name—telling him to look left or right or up or down or every combination therein—and the barrage of questions and jokes that aren’t funny.

Was it you or him that ended it?

Three weeks, is that a new personal record?

Another notch in the bedpost, eh James?

Got another beau lined up yet?

If you’re looking for candidates, what do we have to do to get our names in the running?

“Ignore them,” he mutters to himself, too quietly for anyone except his security team to hear.

In answer, one of them gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as they reach his front door. Someone has already unlocked it for him and the darkness within is a blessing he’s all too willing to be shoved into. The cacophony muffles once the door shuts, and finally he’s alone, a rarity for him. If it’s not his security, it’s personal assistants and writers and producers and photographers and the paparazzi.

Or his lover of the month, as the papers have taken to calling his partners.

But nope, his home is empty and quiet and bloody freezing. A shiver ripples up his spine as he treads to the thermostat controller. Summer finally released its hold on London, and the muggy heat has been replaced with a damp chill that burrows down into his bones.

Several button-presses later, James hears the familiar clank of the radiator and he can smell the heating kick on. It’ll take a while for his house to warm up, so James keeps his peacoat on for the time being as he putters around his home, checking the fridge and the cabinets. As always, they’re well-stocked. He hasn’t had to do anything as mundane as grocery shopping in the five years since his YouTube channel full of acoustic covers of popular songs went viral and landed him a lucrative deal with a prestigious record label. Only in his wildest dreams had he expected to find fame and fortune in the hobby he loved so much—for it to have actually happened still took him by surprise, as though any minute he’d be told “it was fun while it lasted, but it’s time for you to leave wonderland now.”

Shaking his head of those thoughts, he goes to the antique dining table that can easily seat ten people, which is great for holidays or in-home meetings, but just plain depressing every other day of the year. A stack of mail has piled up, and he spends the next five minutes attempting to sort it before giving up and telling himself he’ll look at it in the morning, once he’s not quite as groggy—transatlantic flights always take it out of him.

Instead, he rootles around his fridge until he comes up with the necessary items to make himself a ham and cheese sandwich. With the prospect of food in front of him, James realizes he is starving. He shoves a whole slice of ham in his mouth while he assembles his pitiful meal, heaping on lettuce and sliced tomatoes as though that’s enough to negate the pile processed protein and greasy chips he layers in for crunch.

It’s tastier than any sandwich as a right to be, and he nearly makes himself a second one before catches sight of his phone screen and the slew of incoming notifications. His work is never finished, is it?

There are several texts from his publicist, Donna, welcoming him home and congratulating him on not making an arse of himself just by trying to walk up the front drive of his home. (To be fair, he felt entitled to channel his inner crotchety old man and tell reporters to get off his damn lawn if they encroached on his personal property.)

“Though some photos are surfacing of your trip to New York… Anything you need me to get ahead of?”

He rubs his fingers into his eyes, knowing she’s probably referring to his last night out in the city, where he went bar hopping until the wee hours of the morning to try to forget the text his subsequently-ex-boyfriend had sent him.

Thanks for everything, but I need to focus on my career. Cheers mate.

The career that James had kickstarted for him by introducing his rising actor boyfriend to several of his friends in the film industry, because James had been so damn desperate for affection that he’d once again let the wool get pulled in front of his eyes.

And so James had reached out to mates who lived in New York and they’d all gone out and acted half their age and had a wonderful time once James forgot about why he’d gone out in the first place.

But none of that now. Nope. No sir.

“Not that I’m aware of,” he replies. “Let me know if you catch wind of anything.”

Despite the fact that he only just got home and he’s jetlagged and still feeling the effects of his night out in New York, James can’t stay in his house right now. It’s so quiet that his brain is creating its own white noise. He can’t stand being in his head on a good day, and today is not a good day.

He grabs his keys and wallet and makes for the back of the house. His property is landlocked with the back gardens of other houses; the paps have learned the hard way that James is dead serious about protecting his neighbors’ privacy and will not hesitate to phone the police to arrest and sue anyone caught trespassing on private property to snag a photo of him. James hosts dinner for his neighbors several times a year and buys them gifts any chance he can to show his appreciation for their patience and tolerance.

In the dead of night, he slips out into his back garden, the crisp October air burning his lungs in the best way as he ducks his way through the neighborhood, his feet taking him far away from the crowd of reporters that are still stationed in front of his own home. Hopefully they’ll all have dispersed by the time he gets back. Perhaps he should have turned on music or a movie or something, made them think he was settled in for a lazy night in.

He wanders aimlessly for a while, enjoying this taste of freedom and trying to remember the days when he could leave out the front door of his flat without any fanfare.

It’s dark, and thick clouds obscure whichever moon phase they’re in, but the street lamps glow yellow on the damp pavement, lighting his way forward. A crisp autumn breeze ruffles his hair and the leaves, sending them tumbling around him and skittering across the residential street that’s so much quieter than the bustle of New York. It’s good to be home, though.

He arrives at a bus stop and catches one headed into the city proper. It’s no secret that James lives in London, and therefore the general population has gotten used to glimpsing him on the tube or walking on the street or frequenting pubs. He knows people snap quick photos of him, and he’s always happy to stop and pose for a selfie with respectful fans, but mostly he’s left alone when he’s out by himself like this.

Nevertheless, he hears the excited undertones of people trying to inconspicuously point him out to their oblivious friends. He keeps his head down, mindlessly opening and closing apps on his phone for something to do as he pretends he doesn’t notice them. He won’t be on the bus much longer anyway.

Several people get off the bus with him, including a group of teenage girls who are whispering heatedly among themselves. It’s almost funny, watching them debate amongst themselves before one of them approaches him.

She’s red-faced but determined as she blurts, “Can we get a photo?”

“Sure thing,” he says good-naturedly, inclining his head for them to come closer. “Need me to take it?” He holds out a lanky arm and flops it around a bit. “Got a longer reach than any of you.”

He’s certain one of the girls is about to start crying with joy as they all nestle into his side and hand him a new-model iPhone. Damn, it’s fancier than his own. When he was their age, he had an old flip phone that lost reception if he breathed on it wrong. It was a tank though—he’d dropped that thing hundreds of times, and nary a scratch.

“Do me a favor,” he says, handing the phone back to its owner, “and don’t ping our location if you post to social media, yeah? I appreciate it.”

“You’re my favorite person ever,” one of the girls squeaks.

His face splits into a grin and he tucks his hands into his pockets. “Is that so?”

The girls spend the next five minutes chatting with him about music and how they’ve been following him ever since his YouTube days. He listens and chimes in every now and then when they ask him a direct question, but he prefers being passive in exchanges like this, content to hear peoples’ stories. It makes him feel normal, if only for a little while.

Finally, they take their leave, and James turns in the opposite direction even though the destination he had in mind is down the street the girls had just taken. But he’s been burned far too many times by encounters with seemingly innocent fans, only for them to begin following him around and showing up outside his house to talk to him again. He makes a point of not drawing out public encounters with his fans.

He wanders down a street he’s vaguely familiar with, figuring he can backtrack in a couple blocks. The night is too beautiful for him to be upset about needing to take a detour.

Everything looks different in the dark, the glow of neon signs bathing everything in hues of greens and blues and pinks and yellows. Shops and restaurants are mostly shut up for the night, their windows dark or blinds drawn. Dingey motels with pay-by-the-hour rates are in full swing, as are the pubs that have a revolving door of people in varying states of intoxication.

Deep bass that he can feel all the way in his chest catches his attention, and he gets turned around a few times, but he eventually finds the establishment: Bad Wolf Brews. At first, he doesn’t think it’s open, and that he must be mistaken about where the music is coming from, but the heavy front oak door opens, and he realizes the glass on the door is tempered so that the interior lights don’t shine through. The music is clear and heavy and vibrating in his bones. He doesn’t think twice before catching the door before it closes and slipping inside.

The air is humid and smells of sweat and stale beer. Bodies are writhing and gyrating to the rhythm blasting through invisible speakers. The acoustics are phenomenal; none of the layers are lost and the sound quality is nearly as good as if he were listening to the record at home on his own stereo system.

The lights are low, and he’s sure he trips into a few people in the minute it takes for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, but finally, he’s at the bar. There are three open stools, and he claims one between a blonde woman and a red-haired man as he wonders what the hell this dive bar serves. He can see beer taps, but he’s more of a cocktail guy. He must look as lost as he feels, because the bartender hands him a menu that looks like it was hand-written and then photo-copied. It jives with the overall vibe of the pub.

The bartender checks in with him a minute later. James opens a tab and orders a sidecar sans sugar, and is pleasantly surprised by the quality. Not to make assumptions, but he’d figured an establishment such as this would have cheap liquor. If the alcohol in his drink is cheap, it’s well masked.

When he’s drained the last drop and about to signal for another, a hand rests on his shoulder. “Can I buy your next round?”

James looks up into the face of a stranger. It’s a woman with striking green eyes and a disheveled pixie cut. Judging by her crimson cheeks and glazed eyes, she’s three sheets to the wind. There’s buzzed, then there’s drunk, and then there’s plastered. He prefers not to let himself get to that last category, and by extension, he doesn’t really like to associate much with people who won’t remember the night come morning.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” he says with his most charming grin. “G’night.”

He has no idea if the woman knows who he is, but the way she shrugs and saunters to the gentleman sitting beside James, he doubts it.

He gets clumsily propositioned a few more times and always politely declines with a smile. So far, nobody here seems to recognize him and he is going to ride out this anonymity for as long as it’ll last. It has been too long since he’s been able to sit in a pub and drink quietly. Well, quietly, insofar as crazed fans or paparazzi aren’t harassing him—the music is loud enough that he’s sure to have ringing in his ears for a few hours once he gets home.

But he’s not really in any rush to get home, and so he orders his fourth cocktail before making his way to the loo. Alcohol goes right through him, and it’s nearly gotten him in trouble on tour a time or two.

There’s no line, but the loo is crowded, and he tries to ignore the double-takes as he stands in front of a urinal to take care of business. If he wakes up tomorrow morning to find that someone snapped a photo of him having a piss, he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

Bladder tended to, James keeps his head ducked and shoulders his way back into the bar. His stool is unoccupied, and when he steps forward, he realizes why. A purse sits on it, seemingly reserving the seat but he can’t figure out for whom. He’s about to take the cocktail the bartender hands him and stand against the shadowed wall when someone picks up the purse.

It’s his blonde-haired stool mate. She flashes him a broad grin that lights up her entire face and squeezes something deep in his stomach.

“Saved your seat for ya,” she says with the ease and confidence of someone who’s known him his whole life.

“Thanks,” he manages through a suddenly dry mouth.

Feeling like an idiot for standing and gaping, he slips into his seat and downs half his new sidecar in one go. It’s as though the ice has been broken now, and she turns to him, her elbow on the counter and her cheek propped on her fist.

“Pretty sure you could outdrink a fish, mate,” she drawls, smiling again in that easy way that does too many strange things to his insides. “You’ve been knockin’ ‘em back for over an hour now.”

Has it really been that long? James checks his watch, and yup, it’s half past ten. The paps should be gone from his house by now, but he feels no draw to leave this place. The alcohol has left him pleasantly tipsy and warm, but he’s more drunk on the fantasy that he’s just a normal bloke having a nice night out in a newly-discovered dive bar.

“Fish don’t really drink though, do they? They absorb water through their gills via osmosis,” he replies, and he wants to bite his tongue off because what the fuck was that??

This woman, whatever her name is, doesn’t seem to mind his answer though, because her face scrunches in a giggle. His body is hot and throbbing with more than drink now, and he wants to hear that sound again but his brain has stopped working.

“Is that so different from you absorbin’ alcohol through your bloodstream?” she muses, finishing off whatever is in her short tumbler.

“Can I buy your next round?” he blurts rather than responding to her question, which he’s almost certain was rhetorical.

Her smile melts into something softer, something private and a little shy. “If you’d like.”

“I do.” He flags down the bartender and glances at his new companion expectantly.

“Gin and tonic,” she says. She thanks the bartender, then James when she takes her first sip. “I’m Rose, by the way.”

“James,” he says, feeling stupid because his face is plastered all over London, which likes to boast that it’s the home of international celeb James Noble. But wouldn’t he seem more of an arse if he just assumed this gorgeous woman knew who he was?

Nevertheless, his stomach sinks a bit when she snorts into her drink and says, “I thought it was you.”

“Yup, it’s me,” he forces, his voice flat. He hides his frown with his glass, knocking back the rest of his sidecar like it’s a shot. The room sways slightly with the violent motion of his head, and maybe he’s slightly drunker than he’d thought.

If Rose catches on to his sudden sour mood, she doesn’t mention it. “What brings you here to Bad Wolf?”

He shrugs and blows out a noisy breath. “I dunno. Went for a walk, ended up here.”

“Those are the best sort of adventures.” She hums wistfully. “Sometimes you find what you didn’t know you needed when you let yourself get lost.”

That observation is far too astute for his current state of mind, so instead he says, “Would you like to dance with me?”

Her eyes flicker across his face for a brief moment before she says, “Okay.”

He hops down from his stool, but Rose hesitates, clutching her purse and coat awkwardly. The bartender helpfully tells her to keep them on her stool, and he’ll keep an eye on it. Rose flashes him a grin that James would rather she flash at him, but he realizes that is utterly absurd, so he simply rests his coat on top of her things to better hide them from view. He then holds out his hand for her. Her palm is soft and warm against his as he leads her to the crowded dance floor.

They find space towards the back of the pub, hidden in the shadows of a hallway that states it’s closed off to patrons. And of course, of fucking course, right when he rests his hands on her hips to find the rhythm of the song, a new one comes on, and his own voice belts from the speakers.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. He loves his music—he made it, after all—but he can’t help but feel pretentious and more than a little silly to dance to it like this.

Rose, however, grins and says, “Oh, come on, this is one of my favorites.”

She catches his hands where he’d loosened them at her waist and forces him to grab hold of her. She’s wearing high-waisted trousers and a top that leaves a sliver of her belly exposed. His thumb grazes the skin of her bare side, and it’s enough to send tingles through his body. Rose, meanwhile, slings her arms around his shoulders and begins to rock her hips from side to side in sync with the bass, embellishing the motions until she looks absolutely ridiculous but so, so beautiful.

He can’t help but grin and laugh, and he mirrors her movements until they’re both dancing like idiots to his music.

“This is how my baby brother dances,” she explains, bouncing up and down while twisting her hips. “We have regular dance parties together.”

“How old’s your brother?” he asks.

“Just turned four.”

He blinks, and blood rushes from his face. “And… and how old are you?”

“A perfectly legal twenty-four,” she drawls, reaching up to flick his nose. “You can start breathing again.”

Thank fuck.

“That’s quite the age gap.”

“My mum got remarried when I was nineteen,” Rose says with a shrug. “She and my stepdad didn’t waste much time.”

“Clearly,” he mutters under his breath.

“It does feel a bit like they’ve started over,” Rose confesses with a too-stiff shrug. “New family, new life, and I’m the interloper.

There is no way this vivacious woman in front of him could ever be considered an interloper, but before he can tell her that, she continues, “Mum does her best to assure me otherwise, but still. It’s hard to watch all the things Mum and Dad are able to do for Tony—that’s my brother, Tony—when Mum struggled so much as a single mum with me.”

“Your dad’s not in the picture?”

A sad smile pinches her face, and he regrets asking.

“No, I never knew him. He died when I was a baby.”

“I… I’m so sorry.” Well, he’s totally buggered this all up, hasn’t he? He wracks his brain on how to salvage the easy banter they’d had at the bar, but draws a blank.

Rose seems to realize they’ve lost the mood, but she breaks out into a lazy grin and says, “Since you seemed so opposed to dancing to your own music, it’ll please you to know a new song’s on. C’mon, show me your moves.”

He’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so he follows her lead, watching her dance her heart out until her cheeks are pink and her hair is damp with sweat. He’s sure he doesn’t look much better, since he can feel the perspiration beading down his back and beneath his arms, but he can’t bring himself to care. Tonight has been the most fun he’s had in a very long time. Clubbing in New York had been a lark, but he’s been swarmed by his American fans half the night, and had been busy drowning his latest heartbreak to fully enjoy it. But here, now, with Rose, it’s like he’s any other bloke in a pub, chatting up a pretty girl he wants to get to know.

Their bodies are wrapped around each other with the ease and grace of partners who have known each other for years, and he forgets that he has known Rose for all of a few hours. He never wants this night to end. He wants to cling to this fairytale and pretend that the clock isn’t about to strike the proverbial midnight.

But time marches on as always. The clock really does strike midnight, and the bartender begins to clear people out of his establishment. James is as exhausted as he is exhilarated, no longer drunk on booze but rather the company of Rose and the magic they made together by simply dancing the night away.

They head back to the bar to retrieve their coats and her purse, and to close out their tabs. James slides his credit card to the bartender and asks him to charge everyone’s tab to his card. If the bartender is surprised, he hides it well. A few minutes later, James is signing off on the receipt of purchase of several thousand pounds-worth of alcohol. His personal assistant is sure to be confused as hell when she wakes up to see the charge. He fires off a quick warning text to her so she doesn’t open up a fraudulent charge claim.

James salutes the bartender, knowing he’ll come back to this pub as often as he can until he’s found out and this place once again becomes somewhere that’s overrun with his fans.

The night is refreshingly cold when he and Rose emerge into it, a nice change after the stifling, sweaty heat of the bar. However, she hunches her shoulders against the chill, prompting him to wrap his arm around her waist and tug her into his side, all too eager to lend her some of his body heat.

“Can I walk you somewhere?” he asks, glancing around the street that is now full of the drunken patrons who’d been in the pub with them. They all disperse in different directions, stumbling home or to a different bar that is still open. “Or wait with you ‘til you catch a cab?”

“Yeah, sure,” she says, pulling up her phone to order a ride. She taps on the screen for a few quiet moments then says, “Done. Should be here in a few minutes.”

They descend into a slightly awkward silence that James wants to break, but he can’t think of anything clever to say. So he says nothing, and finally headlights wash over them, momentarily blinding them before a taxi pulls up.

“D’you wanna share?” she asks, opening the door to the back seat.

Is she as reluctant to leave him as he is to leave her? Or is she being polite and eco-friendly by ride sharing? Nevertheless, he nods and slides into the back seat beside her.

There is something incredibly intimate about sitting with Rose in the dark interior of the taxi, and he feels like he’s fifteen and wondering how to hold his date’s hand after a cheap night out at the cinemas. He fists his hands together, knotting his fingers until his knuckles pop.

The driver goes to the address Rose provides first, and all too soon they’ve arrived.

“I’ll cover the fare,” he says when she makes to hand over some bank notes to the diver. “It’d be my pleasure.”

She hesitates, but nods, then opens the door to climb out of the car. His pulse quickens as he watches her walk away with nothing but a, “Goodnight.”

“Can you wait just a minute?” he asks the driver.

“Meter’s still runnin’,” he grunts.

“That’s fine.”

James scrambles out of the taxi. “Hey, Rose?”

She turns back to face him, frowning.

“I… er… I had a great time tonight,” he says lamely, but her frown relaxes into a smile. “It was fun. With you. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too,” she answers.

He licks his lips; his mouth is bone dry and his pulse pounds in his ears, making his vision throb with each frenzied beat.

“Do you… do you maybe wanna do it again some time? Hang out together? I… I’d really like to see you again,” he says, cursing his clumsy, fumbling words.

She scrutinizes him for a long moment, her expression indecipherable. His stomach sinks. Maybe this was a one-off, a story for her to tell her mates.

You’ll never guess who I met at the pub last night. James Noble! He paid for all my drinks and we danced like idiots.

He stews in his misery of doubt, and just when he’s about to tell her to forget about it, she slowly nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

“Really?” he asks, a hopeful edge creeping into his voice.

She laughs. “Really.”

“Brilliant!” James fumbles in his pocket for his phone, and he thrusts it at her. “Give me your number? I’ll text you. Or call.”

He rocks back and forth on his toes and heels, waiting for her to finish up with his phone. He has a sudden, potent bolt of panic that she’s snooping through his private messages or photographs for something to use against him to make a quick profit, but before that panic can take root, she hands his mobile back to him. It’s open to a new texting conversation.

From: 🌹 Bad Wolf Girl 🌹

Now I’ve got your number too 😉

He beams at the name she’s given to herself in his contacts, then he pockets his phone.

“I’ll see you later,” he says.

“You better,” she replies with that knee-weakening smile he’s grown to love over the course of the night. “See ya.”

“Bye.”

He stands there like a moron until she’s safely inside, then he turns back to the taxi and climbs in. The deserted streets streak by as the driver takes him to his neighborhood. He never gives his address though; he always chooses a destination a few streets away, just in case.

James generously tips the driver and bids him goodnight before slipping into the night to his home. He was right: the paparazzi are gone. There is no fanfare as he slips his key into the lock and lets himself into his house. It’s warm and cozy, but still too quiet for his liking.

Between the plane ride and his night out, he feels greasy and disgusting, and indulges in a hot shower before bed. He washes Rose’s scent off of his body, an intoxicating blend of jasmine and vanilla that’s as sweet as it is musky.

He’s groggy by the time he crawls into his giant, king-sized bed and burrows deep into his mounds of pillows and duvets. One of his ex-girlfriends once teased that he turns into the marshmallow man when he sleeps.

His sleep is deep and dreamless, and when he awakes with the sun the following morning, he feels more refreshed and invigorated than he ever remembers being. He’s got a full day of meetings with his songwriting team to brainstorm his next album, and he is ready.

But first, he checks his phone. There’s nothing from Rose, which makes him a little sad, but also nothing from his publicist, which is always a good sign. If ever she messages or calls him first thing in the morning, it always means there’s some sort of dumpster fire to put out. Usually a dumpster fire full of compromising photos of him.

He makes a point of not Googling himself, but he does occasionally check his social media pages for new posts about him, wanting to know when, where, and how his fans came across him in the wild. He easily finds the photo that he took with the group of teenage girls, and makes a point to like the original post and type a quick, “Nice to meet you all. Thanks for chatting with me last night - J” in the comments section. He snorts to himself as his comment blows up within seconds.

But other than some grainy photos of him riding the bus, he can’t find any other photos of himself. Nothing of him wandering the streets or drinking in the pub or even having a wee in the mens’ room. And best of all, there’s nothing of him and Rose. No photos of them dancing together or sharing a cab. If Rose has a social media account, it didn’t post any sneaky photos or bragging stories about dancing all night with James Noble.

He can’t quite believe it; he managed to have a fun night out drinking without it all being thrown back in his face the next morning. Within seconds, he’s grinning to himself and pulling up Rose’s contact information. It’s still in his phone, further proof that his night with her wasn’t some sort of jetlagged fever dream. She was real.

“Good morning. I hope you slept well. Thanks for last night.”

She responds almost instantly. Good morning to you too. I should be thanking you for paying my drink tab and taxi fare 😉 And for being an excellent dance partner.

“The pleasure was all mine, on all counts.” He sends that message, then types out a new one, “I’m gonna be in meetings all day (yes, I know it’s Sunday), so please don’t be discouraged if I don’t reply. But I’d really like to see you again. Want to do dinner or drinks or coffee or something?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, needing to make himself presentable for when his driver picks him up in an hour. Yet he can’t help but check his phone every three seconds, until finally there’s a message from Rose.

Yeah, I’d like that. I work ‘til five most nights, but I’m free after that. Or we can wait ‘til the weekend.

With spirits lighter than they’ve been in months, James steps out of his house with a broad, stupid grin that the ever-present crowd of paparazzi are all too happy to photograph.

#ficandchips #dwfic #doctorroseprompts #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #james x rose #yet another iteration of james and rose lmao #romance #meet cute #light angst #musician au #my fic #sacred new beginnings

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skelanonymous · 4 years ago

Text

Killermare/Nightkiller - Soul Mates

Hey! I finished the prompt person who made a request like a month ago! I literally do not want to even look at this anymore. I’ve been picking away at it all month between shifts and breaks and I’m beginning to hate it by virtue of seeing it too much.

The beginning has been edited and now has some nsfw soul-mating and some after effect scenes!

Words: 6.1K

“Are you sure you want this? With me?” Nightmare wouldn’t meet Killer’s eyes. He stood in front of one of his room’s many arched windows, moonlight shimmering over his blackened form. His tentacles had curled in on him, arms crossed, an uncharacteristic sign of vulnerability that Killer had only seen inside of this room.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Killer, too, let his eternally present grin fall. This matter meant too much, and Nightmare’s insecurity fell heavily on him, on them.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“I have an idea, but I want to hear the specifics. ‘s important.” Killer crossed his own arms to match, to hold back the urge to touch his moon until he finished his thoughts.

“Soul mating is to share all that you are with another.” Nightmare turned to face out over the darkened wilds his castle oversaw. “It’s to be unified on every level and live as one until we cease to be. I am not afraid of being unified with you myself; I have centuries of existence and a power to shake the multiverse, and while I’m certain that I will be affected by you, as I am even now when we’re separate, I am also sure of my ability to handle it as I have everything else.”

“It’s me you don’t trust to deal.” Killer sighed, frown downturning further. Nightmare whirled around in an instant.

“I trust you with my life Killer.” He hurried across the room to hold his beloved’s face, a concerned eye looking into Killer’s, begging him to understand. “I would not humor this for anyone else, I would not want this with anyone else. To be joined with you is a dream I wish for. But…” His thumbs wiped away the streaks of liquid hate on Killer’s face. “To be joined to me is my namesake. You will know misery on a level you have never known.”

Killer reached up to hold Nightmare’s hands. He smiled with a short laugh.

“I think I’ve known some pretty deep fucking misery Night.” Killer let go to reach out for Nightmare’s jacket, pulling him closer. “I’m not fragile. You worry too much. ‘Sleeping near me might give you nightmares’ and ‘if I lose control during sex, I could hurt you’ and, my favorite, ‘I am the guardian of negativity, I cannot love you back.’ Yet we’re here.” He took a nice deep breath, sinking into the comfort that was Nightmare pressed to his chest. Nightmare’s fingers clutched at his back.

“Not like this Killer, never like this.” Cyan tears welled up, hands vice gripped onto his hoodie. “I am not minimizing your suffering, I have felt it firsthand, but mine is long and continuous. It bores into your soul and lives there. You mention that I have always worried and you have overcome, but yet, I still worry. Negativity is at the root of me.”

His tentacles reached out like more arms. The fear was palpable, flavoring the air and thick on their tongues. Nightmare could never forsake what he was. He could not undo what had been done.

“And to join you with that? I’m afraid of what this could do to you. Will you gain my corruption? Will I lose you like I lost myself for all those years? How much of you must be traded for us to experience this pinnacle of connection?” Night’s words flooded from his mouth, crying bitterly at the thought of turning Killer away, all for his sake. “Every single thing others can have, I must first pay a cost. To just exist without punishment cost my life, my home, my family. And even then, I did not escape punishment, I merely gained the ability to fight back!”

“Nightlight…look at me.” And he listened. Killer tapped his teeth to his.

“Killer…” Nightmare tapped back, kissing him deeply with wet cheeks. The tension of the room could be cut with a knife, Killer could feel it in the line of Night’s back, and he knew how to work that out. When they broke apart, Killer didn’t move back an inch.

“Remember when you confessed?” His voice rough and heavy against Night’s teeth, Killer’s eyes went half lidded. “You looked so shocked, like you couldn’t believe it.”

“I still don’t.” Nightmare’s voice dropped low, shaky but wanting.

“Moon, are you happy, being with me?” Night’s tentacles clutched him tight, Nightmare pressing up tight to him with another kiss, their faces still millimeters apart.

“Of course. Idiot...” His eye glanced wistfully at the bookshelves on the wall, expression serious and hesitant. Killer chuckled softly at the worry. He wiped his god’s tears away.

“Then why couldn’t I be happy joined with you?” Night’s body sparked with magic underneath his fingertips. “If even the god of negativity can be happy with the one he loves, why couldn’t I do the same with a piece of him living in my soul?” Killer licked his teeth, tongue touching his moon’s at this distance, groaning at the catch in Nightmare’s breath.

“You could.”

Killer crushed Night up against him, the smaller hands fisting in the loose blue hoodie in their passion. Kissing Nightmare always got his motor running. His dark tentacles sought out every surface to lavish attention on Killer’s body, three times the stimulation of any other partner and a hell of a lot more interesting.

“Let me have ya then.” His pointer finger slid down the black cheek, catching softly on his jaw, over his sensitive throat, and leaving a hot trail of need down his sternum before halting. Right over Night’s soul. “Mate with me Moon.”

Night reached out slowly for Killer’s soul, always within reach but rarely so bright, tapping the surface with a fond smile. Killer felt the weight of his words resonate across his being.

“Promise I won’t lose you?” Killer grinned widely.

“Promise.” The tenseness dropped from Night’s back, arms slung around Killer’s shoulders with a more confident look.

“Then take me Killer.”

Killer had a slight height advantage, but Night made up for it with vigor. The black fingers pulled at the hoodie, growling when Killer laughed at him for its slow removal.

“My soul’s not inside my ribcage Moonlight. Did ya forget?” He chuckled until Nightmare pulled their faces together again, groaning into Night’s mouth, tasting and teasing the cyan tongue until he felt Night’s fingers loosen. He took the opportunity to run a phalange up from Night’s back to his sternum, tracing a rib. Night broke off to shiver.

“Are you trying to rush?” Nightmare traced the outer edge of the target shaped soul. It snapped into a heart shape for the second go around. “There you are.”

“I just like when ya touch me.” Killer winked, grinding up against Night’s pelvis. Night bucked against the bulge in front of him. He kept rubbing the tiny heart in his hands while Killer nuzzled into his throat to nip and lick at the sensitive vertebrae there. “Fucking delicious. Can’t wait to have ya.” Killer took a deep breath in, lost in the scent of Nightmare.

Night didn’t respond, only kissed the soul in his hands, trying to impart what he couldn’t say. I’m the lucky one. That you want me, it matters more than anything else.

Killer’s mouth licked haphazardly. The warm buzz of emotion from Night seeped into his body, unfurling the little anxieties building in the peripheral of their relationship. Killer put on a grandiose show, playing the part of the cocky bastard to his moon’s calm stoic, but Nightmare very rarely opened up this far. His moon cried less than Killer had fingers on one hand. He spoke seldomly about the past in anything but factual recounts. The fact he’d been so honest, that he could feel that pure emotion through the contact, put him in a drunken euphoria.

“Moooooon, you’re wearing too many clothes.” He pushed the hoodie off Night’s shoulders, caught on his elbows. “Come to the bed.” Killer slid his hands up to hold Night’s hands, soul dropped and returned to its place.

Killer led him towards the bed, but let him go with a sly grin. He stripped off his shirt with a twirl, revealing his ribs with hungry eyes, dropping his shorts in the next moment to persuade his love to do the same.

“Eager, are you?” Nightmare’s voice betrayed nothing, but the slow shrug off of his sweater spoke volumes.

“Already missing that touch of yours.” He gestured to his soul. “I could get off from just that.”

A peace offering, a way to back out, to build to this piece by piece. Night stepped closer to his love leaned back on the bed.

With a determined eye, he skimmed over the bulge of Killer’s cock, meeting Killer’s captivated gaze with ferocity. He only broke it to remove his suffocating shirt.

“Ignoring my needs? What type of mate do you plan to be?” Killer’s eyelights popped into existence while Nightmare seated himself on his lap. “I thought you said you’d never disappoint me…” He almost fell off when Killer sat up to meet him, smashing their teeth together.

Killer dove in, not leaving room for Nightmare to fight back, overwhelming his small lover with how much he could explore with his eyes closed. They were both pantless by the time Nightmare’s senses returned, breathless but alive with energy.

“If you’re feeling needy, we’ll focus on you then.” Nightmare had no ecto formed yet, Killer instead reaching up into his chest for the dark apple soul he’d never been allowed to touch. His hand hesitated before tapping the blackened surface. “Last chance Nightmare.” And when all he got was silence, he took it out and held it up to his face.

Unlike his own soul, the black apple sat calmly in his hand. It had little give, the dark peel a thin barrier to protect it from the outside world, everlasting and unbroken until this very moment.

“Didn’t expect that.” Killer ran his thumbs over the surface, testing the limits of the shell and Night in one swoop. His moon sat unaffected except by a blush.

“I’m sorry it’s not what you expected.” He could read Night’s hesitation in his body language, but not from the soul seated in his hands, its aura as calm on the exterior as its owner. He wanted in. Killer gently bit down on the apple, not wanting to go clean through, but maybe create a little breach. When Night didn’t react, he bit down harder. His ectobody formed instantly, boosting him up on Killer’s lap.

“OooooooH!” He broke the skin, a small cut through the outer barrier. Night hadn’t ripped it away yet, so Killer turned it over until he could work his tongue into the hole.

“KiLLeR.” Night’s thighs tightened on his legs, hips bucking down wantonly while his cyan tongue lolled out of his mouth. Killer kept working and tasting, getting deeper and deeper into the soul. “STARS, Killer, please. Fuck me!”

Tentacles curled up every limb stroking and teasing. They sought out Killer like a moth to the flame, knowing who was pleasing their master, eager to return the favor. Killer appreciated their caress, but focused in on the torrent of emotion pouring into his mouth from the apple. Night’s composure seldom broke outside of the bedroom, and even here, he was not driven to utmost debauchery, often just more openly honest about his desires. Licking directly into his core, Killer could taste how much Night was holding back. He sucked out some of the wet flavor with a slurp.

“God ya want this so bad. Good, me too.” Killer worked two fingers into the break to Night’s wrecked gasps. “My soul can’t fit in here love. Gunna have to make room for me inside ya.”

“I need you inside me, right now.” Night’s tentacles readjusted them quickly for his red cock to slide up and down Night’s already wet folds. “I love you, connect with me, I’ve got so much room for you…” Killer heard the wet squelch of Night stretching himself open with a tentacle in preparation, making his cock twitch in anticipation. He forced his tongue in around the three fingers he’d worked into Night’s soul. His reward was instantaneous.

“AAH!” Night’s knees knocked on his waist, his eye wide and hazy, which Killer took advantage of by pulling Night further onto him and starting to sink into his soaked pussy along with the slicked tentacle still stuffed inside.

“Oh FUCK!” Night’s cyan eye rolled into his skull, trembling apart at the seams. “T-they fit?”

“They sure do.” Killer pulled his soul up to the opening in Night’s. “You ready for the second squeeze?” He flexed his hips making Nightmare scream.

“Stuff me full Killer, hah, please!”

With a gentle push, his soul tapped against the inside of Night’s, the opening worked large enough for the entire thing to fit along it on one side. He watched fascinated. Normal soulmating, you could hold two souls together and they’d combine, no work required but the desire to do so, but he had to try at getting his moon open enough to reach the savory core. They sat against each other for an instant, Killer anxious if he’d gone about it wrong and Night if he could even do this at all, before Killer’s entire soul slid directly inside, combining them in a flash of color.

The red apple hung between them pleasantly. Killer’s eyelights glowed bright as Night’s went deep purple.

“Moon?” The words echoed in his mind, though it felt like he spoke them. He didn’t need to say anything, Night was him and he was Night, but his sudden desire to hear Nightmare overrode logic.

“My darling soul.” Hands rested on his face. Night’s locked eyes with his, faces moving closer, but even an inch felt too far. It was slow deliberate love, that first kiss, the taste of their soulmate for the very first time.

But then Night shifted to get a little closer and the thickness inside him sparked the desire.

That spark quickly caught, burning through both of them with the intensity of sun, each thought echoing between their souls, escalating to a constant hum that drowned out the rest. Night slid forward to take Killer and his own appendage to the hilt. Killer moaned loudly before pulling Night up to his chest with a desperate kiss. He could barely get out any words.

“I love you.” It slurred from his teeth, feeling the tentacle inside of Night curl around his cock to make it stretch out Night wider. “You’ve got my soul inside yours, ya shouldn’t mind if I fill ya with my cum right?” He thrusted experimentally; Night wailed and slid down to meet his hips. His purple blush complimented the wrecked expression, staring into Killer’s eyes like a lifeline, before nodding with a broken moan. “Fuck you’re perfect.”

He started slow. Night winced at the end of the thrusts and Killer wasn’t so far gone as to not notice; to the contrary, he had never been more aware of his moon. The sound of his voice breaking on Killer’s name a symphony, the taste of his love’s tongue a banquet, all his senses awakened at the sight of his gorgeous soulmate. And through the bond, he could feel Night’s agreement.

“Please, please, please!” Oversensitive and at the emotional limit, Killer could feel his peak rapidly approaching, speeding up to slam into Night, clapping their ecto together between lewd pants and groans. He dropped his sweaty head against Night’s shoulder.

“God Night, come for me!” Night’s pussy clamped down tight with his orgasm. Killer rode it to his own finish.

“Fuck!”

He slow thrusted through it, filling up Night with his red magic, sliding against each other with pleasant bonelessness. They fell back onto the bed in their embrace.

“Killer…”Night’s head rested on his chest, one hand rubbing over where he could see Killer’s cum inside himself. Killer felt tears drip onto his ribcage.

“Nightlight?” He cradled Night’s head. He held him tight, Night nuzzling his chest with the rarest of expressions.

“Thank you.” The genuine smile, soft and sweet, hit Killer right in their combined souls, overcome with their combined joy. He had it so bad. They readjusted to separate, sharing soft continuous kisses, settling into the blankets with unmatched contentment.

“We look pretty good together.” He stroked a finger over the red apple, both trembling with a soft sigh. “Can’t get rid of me now. No take-backs.”

“I can think of no better partner for eternity.” And that deep honesty flustered Killer. He hoped he’d get to see more of this side of his beloved moon now that they were one. Being one in all forms had unlocked more of himself than had existed before, parts he would adopt from Night starting to click in as extensions of his soul. Something dark ate at the back of Killer’s mind, but combined like this, it was held at bay effortlessly by Night’s calm thoughts and breathing.

“Let’s get some rest Nightlight. We have the rest of our lives tomorrow.” He pulled up a sheet to cover them, and placed one last kiss on Night’s teeth.

“That we do.” With their combined souls hanging between them, they slipped in restful sleep.

Killer woke up late. Looking around, he realized he’d been moved from Night’s bedroom to the study. He sat up (appropriately though not fully dressed) on the lounge that Nightmare had scooted closer to his desk.

“Good afternoon. How are you feeling?” Killer felt strangely apprehensive before realizing that the feeling wasn’t centered in his body. The immediacy lessoned the longer he thought about it, though the intensity of that wariness kept ratcheting up while he tried to speak.

“Is that you?” The sudden break in relief caused emotional whiplash and a spike of discomfort.

“Yes. My apologies, I wasn’t reigning in my reactions.” The normal calm came back, with a background fluttering of too many emotions to name. “It should be more manageable now.”

“Wow, I must be bothering the fuck outta you.” He laughed at the tinges of worry, indignation, and relief in turn. A glance at his own chest revealed only his own soul. They’d separated when sleeping it appeared.

“Always.”

“Wow, this is what you’re actually feeling?” Each emotion felt so distinct and different, the deep fondness manifesting as a touch to the cheek and a soft smile, the yearning a waltz across a marble floor, remaining a respectable distance but waiting for a moment alone to close the distance. So caught in this tide, he didn’t notice the tentacle resting along his back.

“Yes. I hope you could see through the sarcasm beforehand. But focus for a moment.” The appendage slid up his spine, Killer shivering. “I’m syphoning my power out of you by force, but once I break contact, you will be hit with whatever my corruption has done to you.”

“Still worried?” Killer grinned with a tilt of his head, shit eating smile not calming Night in the slightest.

“I didn’t want you to wake up in whatever state this will put you in. There’s a difference from knowing it’s coming to waking up overwhelmed.” Killer rolled his shoulders to ready up, taking a few breaths before nodding confidently.

“Hit me with it Nightlight.”

The instant the words left his mouth, the weight of the corruption fell on his back. He gasped, choking on the weight of the atmosphere, hate spilling out of his eyes. His soul pulsed heavily, weighted and overwhelming, drowning in a pit of self-loathing and anger that he almost couldn’t see through.

He fell off something. His hands scrambled along the floor, colliding with something that Killer clawed at until he was sat up again.

He trembled violently, bones clattering against his leverage. Sounded familiar though. Where had he heard it before? He focused on the sound to anchor himself in the moment, reflecting on it until the answer came to him suddenly. Nightmare’s desk, he’d had sex on enough times to remember the way wood sounded banging against bone.

Nightmare! He’d been with him before this.

Killer heaved in a few gulps of air. If he reached out with his magic, he could feel him, dark and powerful not too far away, and that helped get through the worst of the panic. The calm washed over him like soothing rain. It soaked into his joints until he laid back against the wood, completely still.

Amidst the black came a single bright ping of light. Hope lit in his chest like a lamp, illuminating his eyelights, finally able to see.

Feelings were too overwhelming to speak, but his staticky pupils stared at his moon’s face.

Nightmare forwent his usual propriety, his normally impassive face scrunched up in unease. His cyan pupil took in every movement, any motion or emotion he could see. Every tentacle hovered around him worriedly, barely restrained from touching Killer to sap the feeling away. He felt Night’s palms on his. He gripped them back with a tired grin.

He could see Nightmare trying to speak, but his ears hadn’t caught up to him yet, still roaring with the stress his body had gone through. He tugged on Nightmare’s arms, toppling the king to the ground into him. Pressed against his chest, he felt better already.

Oh look at his cute soulmate. God he loved him.

Night had been knocked down to kneeling over Killer’s collapsed form, sitting in his lap with flushed cyan cheeks, all right in reach of Killer. Night really should know who he was dealing with by now.

Killer kissed him fully, hands trailing to his shoulder joints to get his moon to huff and let him in. It felt incredible, their magic tongues sparking up pure passion between them through the bond. The fog from the shock of Night’s power was clearing, getting further and further away the more he touched his precious mate, measured in the volume of sounds finally reaching him. By the time they broke apart, Killer had his mind back enough to speak.

“I told you. You worry too much.” Killer grinned, eyes closed and amused. He nuzzled Night’s cheeks with his own. “If you think I was handsy before, you won’t be able to handle how much I want ya now.”

“You’re incorrigible.” Nightmare surged up into another kiss. The magical connection pulsed alive in their souls, swept away in the insatiable urge to be closer to each other. So enraptured that they only halted when they heard mumbling to the side.

“I’m not interrupting them Papyrus, they’ll take a break eventually…” Dust didn’t even flinch when their eyes snapped over to him.

“Didn’t take ya as a voyeur Dusty!” Killer laughed. Nightmare stood quickly, but didn’t move to take his place behind his desk.

“I suppose you’re reporting in on your latest assignment in Fellswap.” Night could compartmentalize like a pro, his face blank and unaffected in moments while Dust relayed his findings calmly. Killer had envied Night’s ability to sort away emotions and reject them, choosing to feel them instead of being overcome, but now that he had a direct link behind the facade, he found himself awed at his moon’s composure under enormous influence.

Calmed by the impromptu make out session, Killer searched inside himself for what was new.

The parts of the bond that came from Nightmare felt shiny, not like the pieces that had always been there. He could feel those rotting things from his own past had been broken in, worn to match the rest of him, unlike that which was added. Killer visualized Nightmare’s power like a tiny galaxy living in him. Dark and expansive, powerful and captivating, it crooked a finger at him to indulge in the negative in himself and in others around him. He could pull on it, indulge in the poisonous vapors, become more powerful in an instant.

Tentacles slithered over his arms, lifting him carefully but pulling his back flush against Nightmare’s chest.

“Now where were we?” Night’s voice rumbled through the both of them. Killer stroked each appendage and licked the corner of Nightmare’s mouth.

“Almost to the good part.”

He was level 20. Right hand of the terror of the multiverse. Mated to the god of negativity. He’d killed plenty and taken what he wanted his entire life.

Killer shut the power out of his mind. He’d take it in stride and learn to tame the damn thing. No need to throw away his sanity for more power than he already had, especially not at the cost of his moon.

One stray hand to his pelvis and the thought was gone.

“How do ya deal with the cravings?” Killer’s hand clenched around his knife, breathing through his nose in metered breaths. Blood red magic ran from his mouth where he’d bitten his tongue at the last second.

“I indulge when it is safe to do so.” Night watched cautiously from the door to the training room.

“And when’s that?” Killer curled in on himself.

“Moments like right now.”

He and Horror had been sparring, just like normal, taunting back and forth, when the corruption had reared its ugly head mid-sentence.

“Can’t keep up? Maybe that’s why you couldn’t feed Pap-” Killer instantly ate his own words, teeth cutting clean through his tongue before Horror could do anything in retaliation. He didn’t even block the attack Horror had started. They weren’t fragile, god knows that they had tougher skin than most, but there were lines you did not cross, and Killer had sprinted straight past them without looking back. He hadn’t moved since.

“So you’re feeding off my fuckup? At least that’s something.” His shirt was wet against his sternum, stuck and soaked in the front, sticky and thick on his fingers tearing into the fabric.

Nightmare pulled down, sitting beside him on the floor. Every limb hovered over Killer’s form. Times like this, he almost detested Nightmare’s superior control, unable to see beyond that carefully neutral face and the wall Nightmare could pull between their bond with ease.

“I cannot help my nature. That doesn’t mean I wished for this.” Nightmare folded his hands in his lap, a picture of patience. “He has already forgiven you.”

“He fucking shouldn’t. I knew what the fuck saying that would do.” Killer sneered at the floor. Black dripped down to mix with the crimson staining his clothes. He was such a piece of shit, giving in like this was his first damn rodeo, like he’d never had to exert ANY fucking self control! He fell forward until his face met the floor.

“You’ve only had this power for a few weeks. It takes time.” Killer could feel his tentacles tentatively soothe him at the edges, pokes and pats soft enough to be shaken off should he decide to run. “I’m sorry.”

Killer’s eyelights flicked on at the tiny pulse of sadness. Night could hide a lot, but powerful swings couldn’t be hidden from your soulmate.

He turned over to stare at his moon. His face looked steady as always, but knowing the emotion beneath gave it away. Night met his gaze evenly, but his eye had gotten soft, rounded on the edges. If he looked closely, tension pulled Night’s arms taut, elbows pressed too hard into his lap, tiny tremors in the forearms from pushing his stress to a hidden place most wouldn’t notice. Really seeing it had Killer shuffling up to sit again.

“Moon, I don’t regret anything. I’m mad at myself but not at this.” He sought out Night’s folded hands, grasping them with his dirtied ones. “The only thing directed at you is that you still keep hiding from me.”

“It’s...a lot to handle. You already feel overwhelmed, so I…”

“I get to decide when it’s too much Nightlight. Tell me how ya really feel.” The revulsion from his actions faded away, patiently waiting for Night to let down the wall.

It dropped all at once, a dam cracked open over his psyche, Killer awash in a million emotions, many that didn’t have names but ate at him sharply. Another piece of him soaked it in, eating up all Night’s doubts and self-loathing with glee. Killer flinched.

“It feels weird as fuck to like when you’re upset.” Killer scrunched up his face. “I prefer you smilin’. Or moaning.” He gave Night a saucy wink. His reward, a light peal of laughter, lit his soul up like a glowstick. Night cupped his wet face with a soft smile.

“I’d like that too.” A chaste kiss melted the dark atmosphere away, Killer left besotted in the wave of fondness from his lovely moon. “I will always feed on the negative, but in this, I gain strength from our love too.” He hummed softly at Killer’s enamoured look. “In sickness and health, my soul.”

The kiss was warm, but not drawn out. They were still in the training room after all.

“I guess I should clean up and apologize to Horror. Even if he forgives me, don’t mean I don’t have to apologize.” Killer stretched back. With a swing of his torso, he landed on his feet. Night stood to join him, resisting the urge to take him elsewhere for soft reassurances. “See ya tonight light?” Killer stuck his tongue out.

“It isn’t optional.” Night pulled him forward with a single hand by the collar of his hoodie. “I’d hunt you down if you tried to stay away.” His seductive smile made Killer purr.

“Hunt me down then Moonbeam. I look forward to it.” The pleasant shimmer of emotion under it all warmed his bones as he walked to his room for a change of clothes. Killer caught a glimpse of the hall mirror, taking in his wrecked appearance with little concern. With each day, he owned more and more of this new darkness, and one day soon, he’d have eternity left with Night. He flexed his arms to rest them behind his head.

“Now where is Horror?”

“Take Horror and get the fuck out of here.” Killer swung his blade through an ink stream. It deflected off to the side, narrowly missing Dust, who had Horror up over his shoulder.

“You can’t take Ink and Cross alone idiot.” Dust had started to back towards the exit anyway. He’d save two skins over one any day.

“Don’t need to take ‘em. Boss’s on his way, just gotta run out the clock.” His grin widened as he turned back to his opponents. The liquid hate began to pour from his sockets, dripping onto the floor, starting to puddle into pitch black pools. He slid his knife under the waterfall to coat it in the black sludge. “And I’ve gotten better at taking my time.” When he stepped forward, Cross stepped back.

“What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’re afraid.”

“Not a bit.” Cross’s stance shifted to put his blade between them. He kept readjusting his grip on his weapon, anxiously preparing for whatever new tricks Killer had up his sleeve. “I’m not so easily shaken.” His white eye went gold.

“I don’t think that’ll make that much of a difference.” Killer flipped his knife with ease, taunting his favorite punching bag of the Stars. Internally, he checked his balance to dodge positivity arrows. “Whatcha gunna do? Stare at me?”

Cross swung confidently in a forward dash. Killer jumped out of the way.

“I’ve got positivity on my side.” Killer almost laughed, but a shot of ink missed his face by an inch.

“And a little help!” Ink chuckled, setting himself up around the edges of Cross and Killer’s spar as inconvenient back up. Killer blocked a direct attack, focusing his energy to spread the corruption over to Cross’s blade at point of contact. The gold eyelight flickered until Cross whipped back.

“What the hell did he do to you?” Cross curved the sword to smash into the ground with a grimace. The sludge cracked and crumbled off.

“It’s better than the nothing Dream gave you.” Killer stuck out his tongue, enraging Cross into re-engaging.

Cross hadn’t gotten much better. His stamina had increased, drastically so, but so had Killer’s, that wasn’t making the difference. Cross stepped into the sludge pool, sliding off balance. Killer pounced on the opening. The back up ink stream caught his shoulder. He growled at the shot of pain but poured that feeling into his spark, bouncing back before Cross could even react.

Even the help wasn’t making that much of a difference. Cross just wasn’t messing up as much as usual.

Cross had always left openings in his attacks, and Killer exploited them, which upset Cross, which made him fuck up more, which made him an easier target, ad naseum until he kicked his angry, self loathing ass. Looks like he’d gone and gotten with Dream to get over himself. Well mostly, because he was still fucking up, but each success powered the positivity and that weakened Killer now, even as his own worries ate at him. It was the world’s worst snowball effect. Too absorbed in his own head; he found himself backed into a wall.

“Look who’s cornered now?” Killer hated that smile on Cross. Well, he’d either have to take a scalding or a slice to get out of this. He leaned back to push out of the corner after the swing.

“Try not to get my face. Boss’ll have no eye candy at the castle.”

“Well we can’t have that.” The sight of the tentacle gripping Cross’s knife made him swoon.

“W-what?” Cross’s eyesight dimmed back to white with Night’s touch. “How’d you get here so fast?!” Nightmare tilted his back towards Ink.

“Killer.”

“Yes Boss.” He took off towards the painter like a bolt, powered by the Night’s aura and the dread Cross eeked over the battlefield. He listened to Nightmare’s talk while easily keeping Ink busy.

“The better question, Cross, is why Dream has not come to save you. Are you just not worth saving?” He’d wrapped Cross in his tentacles, the spark of positivity being drowned out by the overwhelming panic, much tastier than normal loathing. “Did you think you could take him alone? Did you doubt that I’d come to defend what’s mine? Or is it...you can’t call him?”

“I can call him!” But no one came.

“Don’t forget who I am. I am not easily deceived.” Night’s satisfied smile drilled into Cross’s mind. “Such a pity. He mates with you but doesn’t tend to your spark. What a waste.” He tightened his hold on Cross, wincing at the tightening pressure. “Killer can call me from any corner of the world if he chooses. He can wield my gift. You were left with nothing but the promise of feeling better, while I raised my mate higher.” Night manipulated Cross to stare at him in the eyes. “Dream truly does not understand his own power, and, by extension, you.” Condescending and conceited in turns, though Killer could feel the pride beneath.

“You and Killer?” He’d barely gotten it out before his eyelights blanked.

“Not your concern.” He’d seeped most of Cross’s strength away before throwing him towards Ink disdainfully. He broke off his fight with Killer to look over at the limp offering. “I suggest you get him out of my sight. I will not spare him a second time.” Night turned away from the crumpled heap, wrecked traitor gone as soon as Ink grabbed him.

“If I said I wanted your body now, would ya hold it against me?” Killer held his arms wide open. Nightmare walked directly into them, not even waiting until Ink had fully portaled, kissing his mate fondly.

“Have I told you that you can be insufferable at times?” Killer laughed so hard he could hardly stand up straight.

“I know I’m your favorite. No need to say anything.” With a hand to guide Night on his chin, Killer angled into another kiss, soaking in the love and affection from his moon as easily as he had his worries and troubles. Nightmare rested easily between his arms, happier than Killer had ever seen and proud beyond measure of HIS soulmate.

“I love you. You are, indeed, my favorite.” He leaned into Killer’s chest. “Now, how about we go home for some preferential treatment?”

“Moon, you just read my mind.” Killer wrapped an arm around Night’s waist, sliding the other hand along his arm until he had Night’s clasped off to the side. A perfect dance pose, Night shaking his head with fake exasperation, straightening to press against him. The portal whirled open somewhere behind them. “Let’s waltz on outta here.” Night laughed.

“Lead the way Killer.”

He grinned and waltzed them right through the portal, to home.

Thank god, it POSTED.

#killermare #nightkiller #story time #soulmate AU

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maria-scribbles · 4 years ago

Text

we’re just like kevin bacon!

prompt: for @bricksatanakinswindow ‘s halloween writing challenge! this was initially inspired by "mortal enemies accidentally showing up in matching costumes every fucking year" but once i started writing it kind of snowballed from there and i ended up with this lmao

ship: jj maybank x fem!reader

word count: 4.6k+ (i think this is the shortest thing i’ve ever written lol)

warnings n stuff: childhood enemies to lovers, swearing, mention of underage drinking, halloween shenanigans, makin' out, smut (not too explicit but i still think it's spicy enough to need an 18+ warning), jj and the reader being cute lil nerds and quoting movies back and forth, the author blatantly using some of her personal favorite movies/shows as inspiration for costumes, the author also making her opinions on ghostbusters clear (instead of the human trash can peter venkman, stan the adorable dork known as ray stantz for clear skin)

a/n: this was hella fun to write and i already have so many more halloween fic ideas bouncing around in my head (it's spoopy season, y'all!). title of this fic comes from guardians of the galaxy 😊

Of three things in life you were certain.

One, you loved Halloween more than any other holiday of the year; after all, you and your twin brother Mason were born just after one AM on October 31st so you could say a penchant for all things spooky was in your blood.

Two, Sarah Cameron was your best friend. Being neighbors your whole lives, the two of you were thick as thieves and spent almost every day together, much to the annoyance of both your brother and hers; as much as you loved Mason, sometimes you wished Sarah was your twin instead of him and you knew without question the blonde girl would trade Rafe for you in a heartbeat (with little to no guilt, in fact.).

And three, you absolutely hated JJ Maybank. You'd been at the top of each other's shit lists ever since you were both six years old, when he made fun of you for the stutter you'd had back then and you dumped a full milkshake over his head as payback, and even as time passed and you grew out of your stutter, your disdain for the blond pogue only grew stronger. He was infuriating, plain and simple, and the mere mention of his name made steam come out of your ears.

The boy was just good at being annoying and seemed to love pushing everyone's buttons, yours especially, and always found ways to get under your skin without fail every single time your paths crossed (which was way too often for your liking, but running in the same friend group made it hard to avoid each other). It became an unspoken thing, the great Y/L/N-Maybank feud, with both of you trying your hardest to piss the other off until one of your mutual friends or your brother broke it up and pulled you to opposite corners of the metaphorical ring to take a breather before the next round.

You'd never admit it but deep down you kind of liked it. You liked being at the center of his attention (granted, it was antagonistic in nature but it was attention all the same), his bright blue eyes following your every move whenever you were within his sights and you liked that you were in his thoughts even when you weren't around, a fact proven to you by the tiny notebook Kiara carried around in her pocket recording how many times he mentioned your name. Knowing you lived rent free in his mind brought you an embarrassingly high level of satisfaction that you'd absolutely deny feeling if anyone ever asked, just as you'd deny the fact that he lived rent free in your mind, too.

...At least for most of the year. Everyone, including JJ, knew that to you Halloween was a damn-near sacred time. He knew never to mess with you during the weeks leading up to the holiday and definitely never on the day itself, lest he want yet another milkshake dumped over his blond head. He knew that, the whole damn island knew he did and yet...somehow, some way, he managed to get your blood boiling every. single. year. And you, like a masochistic idiot, let him.

It all started when you were twelve.

You, Mason, and your friends were finally old enough to go to the annual youth party held on the sprawling lawn of the Island Club, an event you'd been looking forward to attending every Halloween since you were eight. Of course, you were excited for the dancing and games and food but the thing you couldn't wait the most for was the costume contest, a chance to show off your skills and prove to everyone on the island that Y/N Y/L/N was the undisputed queen of Halloween.

So what if your hopes were a little too high (considering you were only twelve and going up against kids ranging from your age to fifteen), you were still gonna give it your all; you spent weeks perfecting not only your costume but your brother's as well with your mom, helping her cut fabric and sew zippers, styling wigs and painting props until everything was perfect.

"Oh my God, Y/N!" Sarah, dressed as Cinderella, yelled from the passenger seat of her dad's SUV when they swung by to pick you up. "You look amazing!"

"So do you!" You said, slipping into the back seat in between a miserable-looking Rafe as Sarah Sanderson ("I lost a bet," he explained with a scowl) and Mason, holding your mini R2-D2 on your lap. Was it kind of cheesy, dressing up as the most iconic twins in movie history? Probably, but you really didn't care because Leia Organa was a total boss bitch and Mason was practically over the moon that he got to be his ultimate silver screen hero and swing around his very own lightsaber as Luke Skywalker.

"The Force is strong with you two." Ward joked, earning an eye roll from both of his children as he drove to the Island Club to drop you off. Rafe immediately disappeared into the crowd to meet up with Topper and Kelce and the three of you went off to find your own friends, skirting around the edge of the party toward the snack tables, also known as the most likely place for them to be.

You spotted Kiara first, looking like an actual princess in her Tiana costume and waved, smiling when she waved back and beckoned you over as she said something to Pope, dressed as Albert Einstein, that made him start laughing hysterically.

"What's so funny?" You asked, reaching between them to grab two handfuls of pretzels and immediately dropping one into your brother's outstretched palm, careful to keep the sleeve of your white dress away from the bright orange-iced cupcakes on the table.

The two of them exchanged a look that instantly made you realize something was Up™ but before either of them could answer, Mason asked around a mouthful of pretzels, "Where're Tweedledee and Tweedledum?"

"J, why didn't we think of that?" John B's voice came from somewhere over your shoulder and when you turned to face him, you nearly dropped both the droid cradled in the crook of your elbow and the snacks in your hand. Not because of John B and his hilarious Chewbacca costume but because of the fact that JJ Maybank, the one person you hated the most on the whole entire island, was dressed as Han freakin' Solo.

"Yikes." Someone muttered behind you -it sounded like Sarah but you weren't really sure- and Mason nearly choked on his pretzels as he tried and failed miserably to keep himself from laughing.

"You've gotta be kidding me." You huffed, rolling your eyes as JJ crossed his arms and glared in your direction, blaster hanging from the holster on his hip.

"Listen, Princess, I'm not too happy about this, either."

"Oh, shut up, you nerfherder."

"Who you calling-" Mason and John B cut in and pulled you both in opposite directions before either of you could turn it into a shouting match, your brother physically grabbing you around the waist and carrying you off while the latter caught the back of JJ's vest and dragged him away. Despite their best efforts to keep you apart, you ran into each other more times than you could count and spent a minute or two squabbling like cats and dogs each time until one of them intervened once again. It was childish, it was immature, and it was fun, even though you'd never, ever admit it. Ever.

You didn't win the costume contest that year in the way you'd imagined at all. Still, first place in the group category was a win in your book and it felt good, even if one of the members of your unintentional Star Wars posse was someone who tested every bit of patience you had. The four of you split the cash prize and you went home 25 bucks richer, stashing it away for next year's costume and pushing the thought of accidentally matching with your mortal enemy from your mind.

You had no idea this thing was only just beginning.

The next year, you let Sarah and Kiara convince you to match with them and the three of you rolled up to the party as the Pink Ladies -you as Rizzo, Sarah as Sandy, Kiara as Frenchy- only to run right into the boys, your brother included, dressed as the T-Birds. John B, perfectly in character as Danny, immediately whisked Sarah off to dance while Pope, the most adorably awkward Doody you'd ever seen, went to grab some snacks with Kiara, leaving you stuck with the bane of your existence as, of course, fucking Kenickie (Mason, as Sonny, dipped sometime before then without you noticing). The two of you spent the whole evening glaring at each other and hurling insults back and forth at breakneck speed, more in character than either of you'd ever want to acknowledge and for the second year in a row, you won first place in the group costume category.

At fourteen, you went as Princess Buttercup and JJ showed up as Westley, fake sword in hand as he followed you around all night like an annoying fly, sarcastically drawling "as you wish" every time you so much as glanced in his direction. Your brother, dressed as Inigo Montoya, nearly pissed himself laughing and you wanted to snatch both of their prop swords and shove them up their asses. You came in first again in the group costume contest and begrudgingly split the prize three ways.

At fifteen, you worked hard on a Dr. Ellie Sattler costume from Jurassic Park, he strolled in as a disheveled Dr. Alan Grant with mud splattered boots and tattered clothes, and you really regretted not taking the offer to be the Tai to Sarah's Cher and Kiara's Dionne. Once again, Mason laughed so hard his face turned red and you were tempted to grab the sword he was holding and beat him over the head with it, not just for laughing at you but also for the completely atrocious Jack Sparrow costume he wore. To your absolute horror, you and JJ won the contest in the duo category and you wanted to melt into the ground when they called you onto the makeshift stage to collect your reward.

When you were sixteen, you and your friends "graduated" to the party held for the older teens inside the club itself. With costume rules a little more lax than they were for the younger kids, you decided to go as (an only slightly sexy) Janine Melnitz, complete with a prop telephone you answered every so often with a loud "Ghostbusters, whaddya want?!" much to the embarrassment of Mason, who was once again dressed as Luke Skywalker, this time in the fatigues he wore while training on Dagobah in The Empire Strikes Back.

You strutted into the party in your heels and pencil skirt only to nearly fall flat on your face when you caught sight of JJ in a terrible black wig and glasses, proton pack strapped to his back and 'Spengler' printed on the front of his jumpsuit. Your brother winced when you all but screeched "Again?!" right into his ear and grabbed your elbow, dragging you over to an empty table and depositing you into an open chair.

"There's no way this is a coincidence anymore! He could've picked Venkman, with all the womanizing and lowkey being a creep and thinking he's God's gift to mankind? It would've been the perfect choice! He's not nearly adorable or dorky enough to be Stantz or sassy enough to be Winston-"

"Jesus, you have a lot of feelings about Ghostbusters," Mason muttered, rolling his eyes when you shot him a withering glare.

"Shut up! Listen to me, there's no way in hell Maybank randomly decided to be, out of alllll the 'Busters, Egon fuckin' Spengler, okay? He had to have somehow known I was coming as Janine and did it just to piss me off!"

Your brother heaved a deep, heavy sigh that made you want to smack him and fixed you with a deadpan stare. "Or, have you pulled your head out of your own ass long enough to think that maybe you're just becoming...predictable?"

You really did smack him then, hard on his exposed shoulder and he yelped, scowling as he rubbed at the red mark you left behind. "Ow! What the hell, bitch?!"

"Don't you dare call me predictable, you dickhead! I pride myself on my costumes being very unique and unexpected -you know, out of the box!"

"Hate to break it to you but they're not really out of the box if Maybank shows up in a matching one every single year." He said with an infuriating, shit-eating grin, patting your shoulder before straightening the plush Yoda strapped to his back. "I'm gonna go get some food, wanna come with?"

Still miffed at his comment, you shoved his arm away and glanced down at your lap, ignoring your brother's sassy "your loss" as he headed toward the snack tables. Not even a minute passed by before his empty seat was taken and you groaned when you looked up to see who it was, your eyes meeting a pair of bright blues behind tacky, oversized glasses.

"Hi, Janine."

"...Egon."

The two of you sat in silence after that, watching the dancing crowd under the flashing neon lights and sparkling disco ball until you saw him turn to face you out of the corner of your eye.

"Why Janine?"

"Huh?" You turned to face him, too, one eyebrow raised in a perfect arch as he gestured toward your costume.

"Why did you dress up as Janine, Y/L/N?"

"I've always liked her sassiness and 'I like to play racquetball.'" You offered a casual shrug of your shoulders and carefully stuck a finger under your wig to scratch an annoying itch above your ear. "Why'd you pick Egon, Maybank?"

"He's my favorite." He answered simply with his own shrug, shooting you a genuine, real smile that you, for who knows what reason, found yourself returning without a second thought. "Smart, hilarious -plus, 'I like to collect spores, mold, and fungus.'"

For the first time in your life, your eyes rolled out of amusement and not annoyance at something that JJ Maybank said and, to your complete surprise, it kind of felt...right. "Really? I'd have pegged you for a Venkman stan."

"Are you kidding? He's the worst!"

Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think you'd sit across from your hated enemy, not only having a civil -hell, downright enjoyable- conversation but actually smiling right along with him, laughing at his jokes and doing your best to ignore the sudden flutter in your stomach each time you caught sight of his slightly crooked teeth when he grinned. You didn't even notice when your brother returned with Kiara, dressed as Moana, at his side and two heaping plates of snacks in his hands until his chair scraped gratingly across the hardwood floor.

"Kie, are you seeing this? Pigs must be flying 'cause they're actually smiling at each other." Mason said, cackling as Kiara turned to squint out the window.

"Yeah, I think I see one or two soaring around out there." She giggled and sent a mischievous wink in your direction. With your face feeling like it was on fire, you flipped them both the bird and took off, disappearing into the crowd and leaving all your traitorous, confusing thoughts about JJ behind with the boy himself; it was Rafe's last party at the Club and he owed you a dance anyway, but even as your best friend's older brother, cute as hell in his Thor costume, playfully twirled you around the floor to the Ghostbusters theme song, you felt more than your partner's blue eyes on you.

To no one's surprise, you and JJ won the duo category for the second year in a row and when you joined him onstage to collect your prize and didn't feel like you'd rather die than be up there by his side, you suddenly realized you were only certain about two things in life instead of three.

At seventeen, you were confident you and JJ wouldn't be matching for once (after last year, though, you were kind of thinking it wouldn't be that bad of a thing). You'd gone cult classic for your costume, pulling inspiration from your mom's favorite move, 1999's The Mummy, and put together a screen-accurate Evelyn Carnahan in her iconic black dress, including a handmade Book of the Dead and matching key. You blackmailed Mason with pictures of him, drunk as a skunk and dressed in your Janine costume from the previous year, and got him to go as Jonathan, complete with a pith helmet and prop bottle of The Glenlivet.

But, as always, JJ managed to surprise you. You literally ran right into his chest and if it wasn't for his arms instantly wrapping tight around your waist, you would've bit it hard.

"Whoa, careful there," He said, one hand keeping you close while the other moved to help you hold the book in your arms. "'The Book of the Dead? Are you sure you wanna be messing around with this thing?'"

Of course he'd make the perfect Rick O'Connell, you thought as you playfully raised one eyebrow and curled your fingers around the strap of the gun holster draped over his shoulder. "'It's just a book. No harm ever came from reading a book.'"

Mason was a little too in character as well as he dramatically rolled his eyes and wandered off, muttering "puh-lease" under his breath and shooting Sarah a conspiratorial wink that you didn't see. The blonde girl glanced between the two of you -arms still around each other and identical smiles on your faces- and grinned. The party flew by in a blur of movie quotes, laughs, and more dances than you could count and by the time you made it home, 50 bucks in the pocket of your dress and another group costume win under your belt, you were almost positive you never actually hated JJ Maybank in the first place.

Now at eighteen, you pulled out all the stops for your last party at the Island Club. You'd spent the last few months slaving over your costume, sewing custom pieces, hand-crafting your prop, and spending way too much money on body makeup and a wig but when you saw the final product in the mirror, you knew it was all worth it. You were ready to slay the competition this year and take home first place for the final time.

Mason, indifferent as always about the contest but willing to do anything to keep those pictures from seeing the light of day, didn't protest one bit when you forced him into the matching costume you'd made for him -in typical Mason fashion, he liked that he didn't have to wear a shirt and could show off his muscles- and spent a few hours perfecting his makeup.

You felt on top of the world when you walked into the party that night as Gamora, a replica of her Godslayer sword in hand and skin painted a perfect shade of green, followed by your brother as Drax, already flexing for anyone and everyone looking his way. The rest of your friends came to win as well: John B and Sarah as Flynn Rider and Rapunzel, Kiara as Eleven, Pope as T'Challa, and, of course, JJ as Peter Quill, Baby Groot perched on his shoulder and twin blasters at his hips.

"Lookin' good, Gamora!" He called over the music, shimmying his way over to you with some dance moves that would impress Star-Lord himself.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Quill." You replied in a sing-song voice, even as you took his outstretched hand and let him pull you into the crowd of bodies hopping up and down to some terrible EDM beat under the twirling disco ball.

"It got you out here with me, didn't it?"

You rolled your eyes and hooked the sword to your belt before stepping closer and draping your arms around his neck, twirling your painted fingers in his hair. "Just remember, 'I know who you are, Peter Quill. And I'm not some starry-eyed waif here to succumb to your pelvic sorcery.'"

You should've known you spoke too soon the second you saw the spark in JJ's eyes that all but screamed 'wanna bet?'

And that's how you found yourself in the middle of the single hottest make out session you'd ever had the pleasure of participating in an hour later: back pressed against the locked door of someone's deserted office, legs wrapped tight around his waist and his hands hooked under your ass, both your sword and his blasters abandoned on the floor at his feet, and he was either a sinfully good kisser or trying really, really hard to blow your mind.

"I'm not gonna end up green after this, am I?" He mumbled against your mouth before trailing his lips along your jaw and you breathed a laugh, tightening your grip on his hair.

"This is professional makeup, dumbass. It's gonna take more than some kissing to smudge it."

"I'm down for some smudging if you are."

You pulled him back for another kiss in response and gasped into his mouth when he walked across the room, one strong arm reaching out to sweep whatever was on the desk to the floor before setting you down on it.

"Confident, are we?"

JJ smirked at your breathless question and the way you hooked your ankles around the backs of his thighs to pull him closer. "So is that a yes to the smudging?"

"Just shut up and kiss me."

He did -very well, you might add- and you kissed him back, untangling your hands from his hair to slide them under his jacket instead; you helped him push it off his shoulders and it had barely hit the ground along with poor Baby Groot before your fingers were tugging his shirt from the waistband of his pants.

"Someone's impatient." He teased, leaning back just far enough to let you pull it over his head and toss it somewhere behind you.

"Someone doesn't know how to stop talking." You whispered your reply low in his ear and then trailed your lips down his neck, smiling in satisfaction at the tremble in his voice when you kissed the purple mark you'd left behind earlier.

"N-never was very good at that."

"'You should've learned.'"

"'I don't learn, it's one of my issues.'"

One of his hands gripped your wig, pulling your head back a little roughly -you'd have so been into that if it had been your real hair he pulled- and you winced at the way the bobby pins holding it it place tugged painfully at your roots. "Ow, not so hard!"

"Wait, what the fuck? I thought you were wearing a wig!"

"I am but it's still pinned to my actual hair!"

"Sorry, but how the hell was I supposed to know that?"

The sight of JJ's face slowly turning red made the butterflies in your stomach go haywire and so you just shook your head, mumbling "don't worry about it," before pressing your lips to his once again. He was gentler this time with the pulling and you dug your nails into his bare shoulders at the thrill of his mouth against the exposed column of your throat, leaning back further and further until you laid flat on the desk.

His fingers had just unbuttoned your pants when your phone started to ring from your pocket, blaring the Star Wars theme you had set as your twin's ringtone.

"Mason's timing is impeccable," JJ said sarcastically, chuckling as you clamped a palm over his mouth and answered the call.

"What the hell do you want?"

"Jesus, no need to be pissy!" Mason loudly replied over the applause crackling through the phone's speaker. "I just thought you'd like to know that we just won best group costume with Maybank. Again."

The blond winked at the mention of his last name and pulled your hand away from his mouth, pinning it to the desk beside you with one of his while the other started tugging your pants down over your hips.

"Oh, that's cool, Mase-" You inhaled sharply when his lips touched the edge of your underwear, so close to where you wanted him most but at the same time so far away, and your fingers held your phone in a white-knuckled grip. "But I-I'm kind of in the middle of doing someone -something!- right now."

"Smooth," JJ said, not even trying to be quiet as he released your pinned hand to finish pulling your boots off, along with your tight leather pants that he casually tossed aside. "And I knew you weren't green under these!"

Your laugh quickly turned into a gasp when his fingers hooked under your panties and pulled those off, too, and the touch of his tongue against the skin of your inner thigh sent white-hot lightning racing through your veins; the phone slipped from your grip, falling with a clunk onto the desk as your fingers tangled in his hair and he lifted one of your knees over his shoulder.

"Okay, I'm hanging up now! I already know you're getting laid but I don't need to hear it." Mason's loud grumble drifted up through the speaker and if you weren't so preoccupied with the boy between your thighs doing some downright wicked things to you with his mouth, you might've noticed that your brother didn't actually sound that grumpy before he ended the call and your phone's screen went dark, right as you lost control of your voice.

"Fuck me."

"Funny, I thought that's what I was doing?" You felt more than heard his response against you and a shiver ran down your spine when his bright blue eyes flicked up to met yours in the dim light of the office.

"You know what I meant, Maybank."

"Trust me, Y/L/N, I know. Question is: where do you want me?"

You tugged on his hair, grinning wolfishly at the way his eyes fluttered closed and a low moan rose from his throat. "Everywhere in this damn room, starting right here."

"I was hoping you’d say that.”

- Back at the party, Mason looked up and met Sarah's gaze, both of her eyebrows raised expectantly as she asked, "Well?"

He took his time slipping his phone back into his pocket before giving her a quick nod, grinning triumphantly when she immediately burst into gleeful giggles.

"Yes! I just knew they had a thing for each other! Mortal enemies, my ass."

"I think that was the very first time in my sister's life that she didn't give a shit about the contest." Mason said and reached over to snag a cookie from her plate, chuckling when she pushed his hand away from the chocolate chip ones and toward the peanut butter. "We couldn't have pulled this off without you. I mean, making sure they showed up in matching costumes every year? Genius, Sarah. Absolutely genius."

The blonde girl grabbed her own cookie with a wink. "Think they'll ever figure it out?"

Your brother just threw his head back and laughed. "I hope not! I wanna save that story for my best man speech at their wedding."

taglist: @sinkbeneathwaves @cordeliascrown @maysbanks @jjpogueprincess @jiaraendgame @alexa-playafricabytoto @sexualparkour @agirlwholovescoffee

#brickswritingchallenge #outer banks #jj maybank #obx fic #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #outer banks imagine #obx imagine #obx x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fic #obx fanfic

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monstersandmaw · 4 years ago

Text

Non-binary lich x reader (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This has been up on Patreon for a week now on early release. New stories for Tumblr go up on Wednesdays at the moment and are available there for a whole week before they hit Tumblr, so if you want to have access to the next one (it just went up), make sure you’re on the $5 tier. I’d love to have you as the newest member of the Patreon supporters!

Anyway, contents: It's 7688 words long, features a non-binary, skeletal lich, is set in a fantasy setting, and I don't think it comes with any warnings. Looking forward to your reaction!!

“So, you’re the new librarian…”

The softly rasping voice behind you startled the life out of you, and you dropped the three-volume stack onto the thick, oak table with an undignified squawk. The boom rang out through the castle library and one or two scholars shot glares at you over the top of their research. Turning, you found yourself face to face with a moving skeleton and your eyes widened even further.

Wearing a long, unadorned, shapeless, black robe with the hood pulled right up over the bare ivory of the skull, the figure had a glowing green light in their eye sockets and one of their teeth had been replaced at some point by a silver prosthetic. More than that, you couldn’t say, but it was apparent that their entire body was just a humanoid skeleton beneath the billowing robes.

And then the penny dropped. “Oh!” you gasped, straightening a little. “You’re… You’re Avery… the court mage…” How many liches could one royal castle have after all?

They dipped their head in a curt bow. “Indeed.”

“I’m sorry, I just… wasn’t expecting…”

Another little bow. “It’s quite alright. I realise that meeting a someone like me for the first time can be somewhat… unnerving.”

You opened your mouth to counter them, but realised it was actually true, and just nodded. “How can I help you anyway?” you asked instead.

They seemed to appreciate the segue into safer waters, and told you the name of the tome they were looking for. “It’s essentially a compendium of plants and fungi that grow only on the fringes of Silver Perch Lake in Aragantia,” they added. “A somewhat… specialised catalogue, I’m aware.”

With a nod, you headed to the vast catalogue system and in almost no time at all, especially given how new you were to the post, you and the court mage were walking silently through the shelves of the royal library in search of the book’s location. Avery made no attempt to talk to you, and you assumed they preferred it that way. After all, you supposed, what could a humble librarian have to say to a necromancer and a mage as powerful as them anyway? In your relatively limited experience of mages, they tended to look down on anyone not powerful or supposedly intelligent enough to wield magic.

As you proceeded further and further into the dark stacks, the light dwindled to almost nothing, and in that moment you cursed the innate flammability of paper and parchment, longing for a lamp of sorts.

Slowing, and trying not to fumble, you squinted and ran your fingertips along the shelves to keep a straight course. During your interview for the position, you’d been told about the glowing crystals that the team of three librarians had access to, but apparently you were still too junior to warrant their secrets yet. It had not been expected, it seemed, that someone as important as Avery would require your assistance. Re-shelving returns in the main library was all you’d done so far in your short tenure after all.

“Here,” the lich said from behind you, the word spoken aloud making you jump all over again, and a moment later, a flickering ball of blue light wafted past you to float a pace or two in front of you. It moved when you did, bobbing slowly.

“Handy,” you grinned back at them over your shoulder. “Thanks.”

In the eerie pulsing light, the dark sockets of their skull and the smooth bone looked almost frightening, but you reminded yourself that this was not an old haunted castle from a horror story, and was in fact the hub of a great trading network whose machinations were aided by the work of the court mage, who also just happened to be a lich and, by extension, a necromancer.

With no expression at all to offer you comfort or reassurance, Avery just lowered their gaze and waited for you to move on again.

The book was right where it should have been - thank all the library gods - and once their skeletal hands had taken it reverently from you, little bones clicking softly as they shifted, Avery turned and left you in the stacks with a short ‘thank you’, the light light for company, and a thousand questions buzzing around your head.

Naturally, the first place you went after that was the section on liches and phylacteries, and there you lost yourself for well over an hour.

After that, the court mage found their way back to the library almost every time you were on duty. To your surprise, they were actually quite chatty, answering your tentative questions about their research with long and interesting answers, leafing through the book they’d just taken out to show you a diagram or ritual, constellation, or phase of the moon, and relaying its relevance to their work at the time without reserve.

“I’d always thought mages were secretive about their work,” you ventured one afternoon as sunlight flooded into the open study room at the back of the library where Avery had set up camp for the afternoon.

At your words, they looked up, an oddly tense and intrigued set to their head and you got the impression that, had they had the body to go with the bones, they might have been smiling curiously. “Why do you say that?”

“Well,” you began, feeling a little warm under the collar. Their close scrutiny made you shuffle and turn a little away from them to lessen it. “At the university, your lot always kept to themselves, you know? And no one else was allowed in their section of the library without a mage escort and a note of recommendation from about fifteen different tutors… I got it eventually, of course —”

“— of course,” they interrupted with a wry smile in their voice.

Their tone may have been light and joking, but it carried the weight of enormous respect too, and you choked for a moment before babbling on again. “I’m not suggesting that anyone should just go in and help themselves to dangerous magical texts, don’t get me wrong… It was just… frustrating to be treated like that, that’s all.”

You turned to find them still regarding you with that birdlike curiosity and for a moment you forgot that they were little more than an immense reserve of magic holding together a stack of humanoid bones and wearing a dark robe. It might have been comical to see them that way, but honestly, in that moment, their blazing intelligence and slightly off-the-wall humour endeared you towards them even more. It wouldn’t have been a secret to suggest you had the beginnings of an almighty crush forming. If you didn’t beat it back soon, it would become unwieldy and unmanageable, and it wouldn’t end well for either of you. A member of the castle staff you might have been, but the court mage was one of the most powerful figures in the entire kingdom, and not meant for the likes of you.

And anyway, who was to say that there was anything about you to interest them anyway? The whole point of becoming a lich was to strip away all earthly connections save for the absolute fundamentals - the skeleton - and become an entity largely made of magic, the better to channel it. There were, you had to admit, one or two cases of liches binding themselves to living lovers, and accounts detailing the fierceness and loyalty of those rare unions had left you breathless as you’d scoured the volumes on liches all those weeks ago, but you couldn’t assume that Avery would be such a person after all.

If they had given a reply, you didn’t hear it behind the buzzing, rushing disappointment in your ears at that thought. Closing yourself off a little, you excused yourself politely and returned to your duties in the library beyond, leaving them alone in the study room. After all, Avery still had to figure out a way to harness the power of the sea itself in order to reduce the risk to life of those currently engaged in preparations to dredge and deepen the large trading harbour along the coast. Such complex calculations were hardly in the realm of a librarian.

About a week later, as you sat in the servant’s parlour one afternoon, where most of the castle staff gathered during their time off, a bookish young satyr, with curly, ash blond hair and contrastingly dark brown skin and horns, the stoop of a scholar, and a pair of round, gold-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose, approached and asked for you by name in a warm, stutter-laced tenor.

“Yeah, that’s me…” you said, turning from your conversation with one of the naga guards. “What’s up?”

“Y-Y-You’re the llll… the lllll…” the words just died on his tongue or stuck there like treacle, refusing to leave one syllable and move onto the next, but he took a breath and on the exhale said, “Librarian…?”

“I am,” you said. “If you need something from the stacks though, I think Timothy is on duty today.”

He nodded. “I… I know. Avery… sss-sssent me to… to llll… to lllllook for you. They’d llllike you to… to… to…” At the repetition, his cheeks flushed a bit, but you waited him out and he rallied. “To attend them in their t-t-t-tower to c-c-consult on something.”

“Oh. Really? What… now?” you asked and the satyr nodded. He had a flighty, twitchy energy to him, but his features were kind and open and you decided immediately that you liked him. You turned back to the naga with whom you’d been sharing tea and easy conversation, and shrugged. “Guess I’ve been summoned. See you later.”

She nodded and hissed, “Good luck…” at you and you followed the young scholar out of the parlour. His large hooves clopped conspicuously on the stone of the passageways and he set quite the pace for you to keep up with.

“Are you… like… Avery’s… assistant or something? I’m sorry, I don’t know the technical names…”

He nodded. “Name’s D-Devon,” he said as he ducked left through a doorway and held it open for you to follow. “Apprentice m-mmage and runec-c-caster.”

“Sweet,” you said, impressed. “I studied some very basic runes for another project a long time ago, but I’m not really magical in any way, so… I didn’t pursue it. Is it as complicated as I remember?”

He smiled sweetly and shrugged. “Varies…”

You smirked and said, “That sounds like you’re being modest and generous, but I’ll let it slide. What does Avery need from me anyway?”

With a soft chuckle, Devon pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and shrugged, beginning to climb a tight, spiral staircase. “Nnnot sure. They’ve been di-di-distracted all morning.”

“Guess I’ll just have to find out. I’ve never been up to the mage’s tower.”

The staircase went on and on forever and you actually had to stop for breath twice, rather embarrassingly. Devon was fitter than his scholar’s physique suggested, but he didn’t comment. You supposed doing this every day would build up anyone’s cardiovascular system in no time. “The view had better be worth it,” you grunted as you started up the last stretch of spiral staircase, and Devon nodded.

“Oh, it is.”

“Thank all the gods,” you hissed.

The door to Avery’s study was open, letting light flood in from the room beyond. For some reason, you’d imagined it would be dark and intimidating, and possibly full of bats and spiderwebs and creepy cursed objects in display cabinets, but theirs was a chamber full of bright light and warm colours. Taking half a moment to catch your breath again, you paused on the threshold while Devon headed on inside with evident and easy familiarity to inform Avery that he’d found you.

“Ah wonderful,” came that papery voice from inside. As you heard it, you wondered how a skeleton - with no vocal cords - could produce sound, deciding to chalk it up to magic and move on. “Thank you, Devon. Would you mind running over the plans for the layline ritual one more time while we have a quick chat?”

“Nnnnot at all,” Devon smiled, and disappeared into another room out of sight.

The delicate tread of footsteps on the bare floorboards announced Avery’s approach, and you stepped inside, not wanting to be seen to be lurking nervously. “Hi,” you breathed, still a tiny bit winded, as they moved into view around the huge trestle table that occupied the centre of the room. It was littered with books and pieces of velum, scrolls, and ancient clay tablets, all stacked at frankly alarming and precarious angles.

“Hello,” Avery said with a real warmth in their voice. You could hear the smile, even if they had no lips to form the gesture. “I apologise for making you come all the way up here. I realise it’s a long way from your usual quarters and duties.”

It was true - the library was in an entirely different wing of the rambling old citadel, and your sleeping quarters were again on the far side of that from the tower.

You shrugged. “It’s nice to see a new bit of the castle, I suppose.”

They tilted their head, the movement almost birdlike. “You haven’t seen all of it?” they asked.

You shook your head. “Only the bits I need to. Besides, I’ve only been here a couple of months now.” And in that time, you’d seen Avery almost every day at your library desk. “What did you need me for?” you asked with no small degree of incredulity in your voice.

With a little chuckle that honestly sounded a little nervous, Avery turned to a small writing desk that was tucked up against the stone wall beside a window with a spectacular view. They picked up a scroll and undid the ribbon that held it together, and you found your eyes fascinated by the tiny finger bones of their hands. You wondered what they’d feel like against your skin and flushed hot again, unable to look Avery in the face.

“This is a copy of an inscription that was found in a tomb just north west of here, and while I am familiar with the writing system used, I cannot crack the meaning of it. I’m sure it’s right there, but… I wondered, since you mentioned you’d studied the Early Peoples, if you might take a look at it for me?”

You blinked. “You can’t read it?”

“I can read it,” they said, “But I don’t understand the words. I know the symbols upon which the language is based, but not the language itself.”

“I thought there was nothing you didn’t know,” you murmured fondly as you stepped over and took the parchment from their extraordinarily delicate looking hand. The urge to touch grew once more almost overwhelming.

A soft snort of laughter almost in your ear sent shivers down your whole right side, the skin prickling into goosebumps. “Please,” they scoffed good-naturedly. “Besides, if I knew everything already, I wouldn’t need to make such frequent trips to the library, would I?”

“And here I thought you were coming all the way down there just to visit me,” you quipped self-effacingly, turning your attention to the inscription and missing they way they went completely still before shaking their head ever so slightly.

It took longer than your pride might have liked for you to figure it all out, and you sent Avery scuttling about their office for three different dictionaries and half a dozen grammar tables before you were happy that you’d got it right. Devon had long ago excused himself for the evening, but you’d barely even noticed him leaving, though the murmur of their soft conversation had drifted around you for quite some time while you teased out a bit of odd grammar.

When you looked up at last, you found Avery standing alone by the window, bathed in the rosy light of sunset. The rich, warm rays made the black of their robes seem dull and almost drab - humble beyond what you’d have expected of a court mage with the coffers of the castle at their fingertips - and the angle of the light blazing into their face almost eclipsed the green, misty glow in their eye sockets. For just a moment, they almost looked like nothing more than an ordinary skeleton in an anatomy lab. When they felt your gaze on them, however, they turned - every bone animated and shifting fluidly, bone scraping with a soft, familiar whisper over bone.

They cocked their head again and you smiled. “All done, I think,” you said, standing from where you’d been hunched over the small, cluttered writing desk, and cracking the tension out of your neck with a grunt.

“Thank you,” they murmured. “I am indebted to you yet again, it would seem.”

You shrugged. “What’s it for anyway?” you asked. “I mean… I don’t really see how knowing that the sun will hit the back of the tomb on the winter solstice is of much use to anyone…”

They gave another little movement of their head that seemed like a pout to you, though you had only the bare skull to go from. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure. The tomb contained artefacts that thrummed with energy, so it would indicate that the Early Peoples had access to - and some degree of control over - magic too. Perhaps that date was of significance to them too. I will have to return to the site on the solstice to find out. Then we’ll know if it was of any ‘use’ as you say, or if it’s just interesting.”

“I see,” you said and your stomach chose that moment to growl at you like a spoiled house cat.

“Would… Would you like to stay here for some supper? I can have food brought up here to my chambers if you’ve missed out…” they said awkwardly, turning away from the window and back towards the central trestle table. As they moved the line of gilded sunlight slid from their delicate brow bones and plunged their skull into shadow again behind the hood. You’d never seen them without it raised. “It’s… later than I realised…”

“I’d have thought you could just magic some food up for me,” you grinned, honestly hoping it would disguise the fluttering nerves you felt at the thought of sharing a meal up here. Plus, their tone had gone inexplicably sad somehow.

They looked down at the table and said, “I could do that, of course, but transmuted food tastes awful, or… so I’ve been told. I don’t eat any more for… obvious reasons.”

“Do you miss it?” you blurted.

They stilled and trailed a bony fingertip across the wood. “Yes and no. I miss the pleasure that eating my favourite things brought me.”

“You still remember the taste…?”

Fixing you with a steady, if sidelong, look, they said, “I’m not that old, you know?”

“I…” you said and then stopped when they started laughing. “What?”

“I have to admit that I find it immensely entertaining any time someone assumes I’m a thousand years old. I’m not. I’m only thirty.”

“Thirty?” you gawped. “That’s… That’s so young to —” again, you cut yourself off before you said something truly insensitive, but Avery didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m used to it. And it is indeed young to have your physical form completely stripped bare in exchange for unfathomable magical power. It’s not a choice made lightly, and it’s not a choice that everyone would be prepared to make. It’s rare these days for someone to undergo it willingly.”

Horrified, you blinked at them. “Willingly? You mean it’s inflicted on people?”

They shrugged. “Rarely. It’s hard to control a person’s soul like that, but with the right runes on the phylactery, it can be done. Mercifully, that wasn’t the case with me though, and if you’re caught, the punishment is severe.”

“So… how does someone so young get the position of court mage?”

With another rasping laugh like dry autumn leaves, Avery said, “As opposed to someone so old and experienced, you mean?”

You shrugged, still kind of mute with surprise at the new revelation, and they laughed again. “Sorry.”

“I went to university with the princess. We became friends, and she saw what I could do. I was still an elf then though.”

“You’re… You’re an elf?”

“I’m a lich,” they corrected, “But yes, I was an elf when I was officially alive. Did my short stature and particularly fine wrist bones not give it away?” they joked self-deprecatingly, proffering their pale wrist towards you to examine.

When you actually reached out and touched them, however, a spark like static jumped between you and you both gasped.

“Excuse me,” they gasped, withdrawing their hand immediately. “I… That hasn’t happened in a long time.”

“What was it?” you asked, rubbing your fingertips and thumb together where the skin tingled. It hadn’t hurt, and it left your entire body tingling all over beneath the skin, and heat was rapidly pooling between your legs.

“My magic,” they said. “It’s usually not as forward and ill-mannered as that. I apologise if it startled you.”

“Forward? Ill-mannered?” you asked, amused and intrigued. “You say that like magic has a personality…”

“It does,” the lich sighed, the bones of their ribs creaking softly.

While, academically speaking, you knew what any elven skeleton looked like, you still ached to know the exact shape of Avery beneath the black robes that draped shapelessly over them; the exact way their bones fitted together; the exact colour; any breaks they’d sustained, leaving the evidence in their skeleton… “Alright, but why… ‘forward’?”

“And here I thought I was being terribly obvious,” they muttered.

“Obvious?”

A tilt of their head in your direction served perfectly as a rueful glance, the ardour behind it striking you in the chest with an alarmingly painful pang, and exactly as it occurred to you that you’d learned to read Avery pretty well by now, you also realised precisely what they’d been insinuating. “Oh…” you said, imbuing the sound with significance.

“Oh indeed,” they said bitterly. “Never mind. I quite understand that the attentions of a lich are not… not what everyone would aspire to after all… I apologise if… if I made you uncomfortable. I will not persist.”

“Wait, slow down,” you said, stepping forward suddenly and trying to catch their gaze with your eyes. It was hard to tell where they were really looking, given that all you had to go on was the rough direction of their head and the soft glow in their otherwise empty eye sockets, but when you got the impression that they were looking directly at you, you spoke up. “I’m sorry,” you began.

“Don’t be sorry,” they hissed, trying to turn away.

“No, wait, that’s not… that’s not what I meant!” Finding you had no choice, you reached out and latched onto their wrist. The bones beneath the long fabric of the sleeves felt so achingly fragile that you almost recoiled for fear of hurting them, but you made your fingers loosen just a fraction and stayed put. You needn’t have worried anyway; Avery was tethered and still at your touch in a heartbeat. “I mean, I am sorry, but I’m sorry for being dense, not that you… you know…”

“That I’ve been so poorly attempting to flirt with you for the last month?” they finished dryly.

“Now that I know, why don’t we start over…?” you said, releasing them and smiling hopefully.

Adopting a truly sarcastic pose and tone, they held out their skeletal hand and said nastily, “I’m Avery, I’m a lich, and I’m apparently an appallingly poor flirt.” The ugliness in their voice was not directed at you, however. Avery had turned it back on themselves and it galled you to hear someone so brilliant sound so defeated.

Unflinchingly, you took their hand and stared fiercely back at the lich who had become your friend in these first months at the castle, and perhaps something more. “I didn’t mean to start over that far back, but I’ll play your game.” You added your own name and profession, that you were human, and finished by saying, “And I’m very much open to being flirted with by you, however poorly you think you do it.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Avery said, their thumb playing back and forth over your skin before promptly changing the subject. “You never did answer me about dinner though. Would you like to stay here and eat? Or would my not partaking make you uncomfortable?”

Sensing that they needed a moment’s diversion, you allowed them to skirt around the issue of being interested in you, and shook your head. “Dinner here with you sounds lovely. Plus the view is spectacular.”

“I knew it. You want me for my advantageous chambers,” they moaned, still deflecting defensively.

“I meant that there’s something to keep you occupied while you wait for me to finish, that’s all,” you huffed in response to their teasing. “But if the view bores you by now, I’m sure you could always read to me from some dusty old volume you’ve nicked from the library and neglected to return…”

“You wound me!” they said, placing both hands over their heart, or at least, where their heart would have been if they weren’t just a skeleton anymore. “Is there anything you don’t eat? Would you like wine?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m good with most things, as far as I know, and…” you bit your lip and then reluctantly admitted that actually a glass of wine might be really nice. Your salary was not so meagre that you couldn’t afford a drink or two in the local taverns, but you suspected a wine from the castle cellars might be a little more special.

Instead of ringing for a servant, Avery picked up a quill and a small piece of paper, and dictated their message aloud after a quick flick of their wrist had brought the quill to life. It skimmed across the page like a breeze-blown willow branch trailing through a pond, and as you watched, you wondered if that was what Avery’s handwriting looked like, or whether the script was a result of magic, or the quill itself. Either way, it was beautiful, and you suddenly thought of the rather romantic notion of having love letters penned to you in that hand…

Their voice turned more confident as they dictated the note to the quill. “I am entertaining a guest in my tower tonight. Please have a fine supper for one brought up to the mage’s tower at your earliest convenience, with a bottle of Aktissian red too, if you please.”

“Avery!” you gasped, recognising the quality of the wine purely from it’s location.

They shrugged and finished off the note with another brief gesture, and you watched as it disappeared with a little pop. “I like to dictate my messages in case the person on the other end cannot read. Not all of the castle staff have been blessed with our educations, after all. In such a case, it will read itself aloud.”

“That’s thoughtful of you,” you commented.

They shrugged. “It saves me sending Devon, or going myself and terrifying the wits out of the kitchen staff, or ringing for someone to trudge all the way up here, only to have to go back and return later…” It seemed odd to you now that Avery could be frightening to anyone, but you recalled your own unease at your first encounter, and merely smiled at them again.

Wherever the note had gone, it must have reached the right ears, because twenty minutes later, a knock sounded at Avery’s door and a castle servant entered with a large tray.

“Thank you so much,” Avery said as the half-orc set the meal down on the table.

“Anything else you need, mage?”

“No, that’s all, thank you.”

You chimed in with your own thanks and the servant left.

Avery waved a hand at the table where they’d cleared a space amid the chaos of stationary and books, and you sat yourself down. They lifted the lid of the silver cloche and revealed a beautiful supper that looked fit for the princess’ high table. Eyeing Avery, you caught a little glint in their glowing eye sockets, and you assumed that they were pleased too.

In fact, Avery did not read to you while you ate, but they did watch you rather intently. “You’re going to make me all self-conscious,” you muttered. “This is delicious though.”

“Would you rather I not watch you?”

“No,” you said honestly. “I’m just not used to such… intense attention…”

“You’re gorgeous,” they murmured awkwardly, voice rich and husky, as though their magic was crackling uncontrollably beneath the surface.

After a pause, during which you encouraged your heart to beat normally, and the poor organ took absolutely no heed of your pleas whatsoever, you said, “So are you…”

If Avery could have rolled their eyes, you were sure they would have. Instead, they just pressed their hands to the table and leaned back in their chair. “I’m just a pile of bones and magic now… I’m honestly surprised you permitted me the indulgence of courting you.”

“It’s not an indulgence, Avery. Well, maybe it is, but it’s an indulgence for me. Each visit you’ve paid to the library has left me in quite a state, I’ll have you know.”

The lich went still at that and then very slowly tilted their head to one side. “Oh?” they asked, voice dipping lower with obvious intrigue. “Care to explain that?”

With a half smile, you set down your cutlery on your empty plate and pushed back a little way from the table to make yourself more comfortable. Crossing your legs, you said archly, “Any time you come close to me, you leave me tingling all over. I don’t know if it’s your magic, or you, or what, but… When you were leaning over my shoulder back there —” you nodded over at the writing desk, memories of their right hand pressed to the wood as they peered over your shoulder at your progress, the heady scent of incense and ozone swirling around their robes, the particular timbre of their voice as they hummed in thoughtful understanding at your translation…

“Yes?” they prompted, voice cracking.

Heat coiled between your legs and in your lower body, slowly filling you with a warm, glowing sensation that shot up your spine and made your head spin. “I could hardly think,” you whispered. “It’s a miracle I finished the translation.”

The light in their eyes guttered and flickered before returning with a new, brighter intensity. Where before it had been a pale, pastel green, it now burned with a searingly hot blue.

“Avery?”

The lich sat there and stared at you before twitching their head and shoulders a little. “Forgive me. We… We probably shouldn’t move that quickly…”

You raised your eyebrows. “How quickly?”

“Quickly,” they said. “You deserve to be courted properly.”

“And what if I’m as impatient as you are?” you asked, heart pounding. Gods, you wanted whatever they had to give you and you wanted it now. You ached, inside and out. “It wouldn’t stop you from still ‘courting’ me if you wanted…”

Avery stood and then stalled. “I…” They growled softly in frustration and started again. “I am… I haven’t… not since…”

“Avery… I know what you are. I know what you must look like under that robe, and I still want you,” you said fiercely.

“Gods,” they hissed, turning to face you, eyes blazing blue.

“Your eyes?” you asked. “They’ve changed colour. Is that your magic?”

They nodded. “What… What would you like from me?”

“Touch me,” you said honestly.

“I can conjure… uh… a variety of physical… um… shapes…” they faltered awkwardly and your brain supplied the rest, but they raised one hand and you found that where the bones had been before, they now supported a ghostly hand. They turned it over to show you their palm and then flipped it over again. You could still see the bones through the spectral hand that moved like translucent, living glass.

You shook your head, “Come here,” you said, and they did.

You stood up and ignored their new spectral hand in favour of running one fingertip around the orbital bones of their skull. Avery shuddered, joints rattling audibly beneath the robes as it shivered down their whole skeleton.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked. “Could you create… a tongue for me?”

With a mute nod, looking stunned, Avery opened their jaw and you saw a glowing, green tongue inside, translucent and glistening.

Pressing your lips to their teeth felt odd at first, especially when the cool of that single silver tooth caught your lips, but when the tongue immediately lapped at your lips, begging entry, you forgot the strangeness of it. You came alive again beneath that kiss as Avery’s hands found their way to your waist and then up to the back of your head where they let their bony fingers snake through your hair before gripping you tightly and tugging until you pulled back with a gasp. Panting and dizzy you let Avery nip at your exposed neck, tongue occasionally laving at your skin, shockingly cool and leaving it tingling.

One of Avery’s hands palmed your groin questioningly and your knees nearly went out from beneath you. “Yes,” you gasped. “Oh gods, please… I want… touch me… please…”

Your chest heaved and you let them steer you back into your chair behind you. When you landed, they tenderly began to undo your waistband, and you lifted your hips to slide a little way free of your clothes. Avery’s eyes blazed as they stared at you, your arousal evident with your clothes around your ankles. “May I use this…?” they asked, opening their mouth to reveal that long, thick, prehensile tongue.

“Gods yes,” you blurted, lifting your hips weakly again. “Please… Avery… I need you…”

The lich knelt before you and hesitantly placed their skeletal hands on your thighs. Looking down at them, nestled between your legs, you felt like you could come just from that sight alone.

“I’m not going to last long,” you warned them, practically shivering with arousal. “Gods… Avery, you’re…” Whatever Avery was to you in that moment, you never got the chance to tell them.

The instant their tongue touched you, lapping teasingly at you to start with, magic and sensation roared through you, ripping along your nerves and wiping your mind blank of all but intense pleasure. The slickness of their conjured tongue, supple and almost like a tentacle as it pleasured you, and the coolness of the mouth behind, set against the firm, unyielding pressure of their bare bones digging into the muscle of your thighs hard enough that it would bruise, drove you to the quivering edge in minutes.

Your hands scrabbled helplessly at the arms of the chair, your hips bucked unbidden up into the sensations Avery was offering you, fire danced along your nerves, and your blood sang in your ears. “Avery!” you screamed in warning, and then, with one final flick and press of their tongue against your most sensitive spot, you shattered.

With your mind blank, vision dark, Avery tore your release from you and prolonged it, either with their magic or just by their presence, until you whimpered and slumped in the chair, limp and spent and ironically boneless.

Finally, after lingering just a little longer, Avery sat back on their heels and stared up at you, one hand still on your quivering thigh. “Beautiful,” they rasped. “Gods above and below, but you come so beautifully.”

“I’ve never… come like that,” you croaked, throat raw. Had you come so hard you’d made yourself hoarse?

Avery summoned a goblet of water from the table to their hand and stood. “Here,” they said.

You drank, and as you set the goblet shakily back on the table, you glanced at them and saw a glistening droplet slide down their exposed ankle bone and drip onto the floor. Seeing where your gaze had gone, they chuckled. “Am I expected to remain unaffected by what you just gave me?” they said archly as you did your own clothes up again, just enough not to be completely exposed any more.

“How…? What…?” You began, but then shook your head and leaned forwards. Tentatively, you reached out a hand for the front of their cross-over robes and unbuttoned them at the waist. Drawing the fabric slowly aside, you felt them tense, but you kept going and they permitted it.

As the final fitting came loose, the robes hung open like a coat and revealed their skeleton beneath. To your surprise, they were not merely an empty ribcage and spine, hollow pelvis and slender leg bones. Constantly swirling inside them like a mixture of phosphorescence and ink, was a kind of magical core. Like an entity all of its own, it pulsed and coiled, writhing with tendrils of light and darkness that played along their ribs and teased up their spine like ivy. “Gods, Avery, you’re stunning,” you murmured and looked up to find their face tilted downwards, regarding you carefully.

Your eyes roved down their body to their pelvis, where the phosphorescent light seemed to have coalesced, spiralling around their hip bone like swirling liquid in a glass and… dripping tangibly down their leg.

“Can I… touch it?” you asked and they nodded. There was a long drip of it running down their femur almost to the knee, so you brought your fingertip up and trailed it cautiously through the strange, glowing wetness. “Is it magic?” you asked as your finger went numb and then began to tingle rather enticingly. Gods, what would that feel like against your body… even… inside you? Now there was an unexpected thought.

“It’s… akin to… oh gods,” they hissed suddenly, their hand flying to your shoulder as you traced a circle through it on the very edge of their curving hipbone.

“Mmm?” you asked, not relenting but not moving anywhere else.

Struggling to form words, Avery tried again. “Akin to when a ghost becomes corporeal.”

“Your magic is coalescing like ectoplasm?”

“In a way, oh… oh… ohhhh,” they moaned, staggering as you moved further up the wide scoop of their hip bone towards their spine and back again. “I can’t… I can’t keep upright… if you do that again… I’ll fall… I…”

“You want to move somewhere else?” you asked and they nodded.

Turning and leading you unsteadily without a word towards a closed door that led off from the study, Avery showed you to their bedroom and then hesitated, as though unsure as to quite what you wanted with them now that you had then naked.

“Bed?” you asked and they nodded, encouraged.

The fact that they seemed to be waiting for you to balk and run stung, but it made you more determined than ever to show them pleasure. Especially since they’d apparently not been with anyone since becoming a lich.

“Tell me what you like best,” you said.

“Your touch,” they blurted immediately.

“Alright,” you said with a tiny laugh. That was a start. “Lie back then.”

They lay down on the dark green blankets of the neatly made bed, their robes pooling behind them like ink, and stared up at you as you followed and sank down beside them.

Watching that swirling magical core for a moment, you reached out and traced their wrist first, working up to their shoulder, and then to that ever-present smile on their bare skull. The light in their eyes now burned a softer blue, occasionally flaring to the intense cobalt you’d seen before when you skimmed a particularly sensitive spot, and their jaw worked as if they were panting and gasping but couldn’t summon the magic to make the sounds.

The storm of essence in their ribcage swirled and crackled, tiny forks of lightning dancing through the clouds where their heart would have been, and you watched their spine flex and arch. The bones of their hands clenched the sheets into balls and as you moved lower and lower down their enchanted body, you watched the phosphorescent light begin to condense again as it hit their bones, running down in thick, slow rivulets to pool in the fabric of their robes, leaving only glittering, darker patches behind.

“Where’s most intense?” you asked, assuming you knew already. The point where the two halves of their pelvis met at the centre proved to be extremely sensitive, and as you ran your finger around it, they lurched wildly, the magic in their chest flaring and sparking again. “There?”

“Yes,” they gasped.

The magic began to grow, solidify, and as you circled the cool bone of their lower pelvis, a long, thick tentacle of magic coiled out of it and wrapped around your hand. It was real and tangible, corporeal, and slick as sin. “Avery,” you moaned as it clenched tightly around your wrist like an octopus’ limb.

“Want you,” they said. In the next moment, the tentacle released you and coiled back on itself, creating a soft passage inside them. Taking advantage of this, you slid two fingers into the channel and crooked them against the solid wall of pulsing magic.

Avery yelled with pleasure, spine arching again like a bow at full draw, magic expanding out through their ribs like a storm cloud, unable to be contained. Pressing hard against their walls, you rubbed intense and tiny circles while the magic flared and reached for your hand in return.

Flowing back and forth like waves of the ocean, Avery’s pleasure enveloped you and you felt it in your own mind as suddenly and as keenly as if it were your own. Their magic was reaching out for you and you allowed the connection without hesitation.

“I’m so close,” Avery whimpered, body taut and thrumming.

“I can feel it,” you whispered.

At that, Avery chanted, “I’m… Oh gods, there, like that… I’m… I’m going to… I can’t hold back any more… I…”

“Come for me, Avery,” you begged, and they broke.

Tendrils of black shadow shot out from their body like vines, filling the corner of the room and staying there like webs, while the core of their magic pulsed and throbbed, blazing with blue light. Liquid magic rolled over your hand as they came and came, body undulating and heaving, jaw open wide in a rictus of pleasure. The sight of it was almost enough to make you come too, but instead you simply stared at the magic you’d brought out and the pleasure you’d wrought in them.

Eventually, the black tendrils evaporated into a fine mist and vanished altogether, and the cloud of roiling magic settled down again and retreated back within Avery’s ribcage. The phosphorescent magic lingered on your skin, however, and as you moved to lie down beside them, you slid your hand down the waistband of your clothes and touched yourself with it still on your skin.

Avery was barely able to turn their head to watch as you brought yourself to another blinding orgasm, but their fingertips brushed against your free wrist just as you neared your second peak and you tumbled over the edge with a grunt and their name on your lips.

In the aftermath, you both lay there for a long time before either of you moved. Swallowing, you turned to look at them and found that the light in their eyes had gone back to green again, though this time it was dark and almost imperceptible. “Avery? You alright?” you asked.

They hummed softly in response. “Tired,” they admitted. “That… That was a lot of magic. I didn’t expect…” they huffed a laugh.

“Did I hurt you?” you asked, horrified.

“No,” they smiled, gripping your fingers in theirs for a moment before they lost the strength and went limp. “Quite the contrary. But I’m spent, in more ways than one.”

“Sorry…?” you ventured and they laughed. “Can I stay?” you added.

“Of course,” they replied. “I’m right in the middle of the bed, aren’t I? Do you have enough room?”

“I could use a little more, but if I lie on my side, I can manage alright.”

“I can’t even lift a finger at the moment,” they admitted. “I’m sorry. If you need me to move, you’ll have to lift me yourself.”

The vulnerability they were offering you struck you deeply. “Alright,” you said. “You sure you don’t mind?”

The tiniest shake of their head was all they could muster.

Sliding your arm beneath their neck and your other behind their knees, you tentatively raised them and nearly gasped at how light they were.

As if sensing your surprise, Avery managed a dry chuckle. “Elf, remember? Bones of a bird…”

You set them back down on the further pillow and nestled in beside them. “Can I put my head on your shoulder?” you asked.

“It won’t be comfortable. Bring a cushion over…” they whispered, nodding at the other side of the room where a modest chaise longue, upholstered in what looked like silk, sat against the wall, adorned with a couple of dainty pillows. The sight made you smile for some reason, and you took the opportunity to clean up a little at a washstand in the corner of the room. When you returned with a cushion, you found that the light was completely extinguished from their skull.

The magic still swirled away inside their chest, and as you laid the pillow down on their shoulder and watched their core shifting lazily - contentedly - you found yourself following them into a blank and blissful sleep.

___

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

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Currently I’m also running a CYOA for all tiers, with episodes releasing every Friday.

#lich #exophilia #lich x reader #non binary monster #gender neutral reader #reader x monster #monster x reader

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chysgoda · 3 years ago

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Debonair

Post 5.55

X’rhun hummed to himself as he looked through his jewelry box for the garnet cuff links Arya and Bel had gifted to him a moon past, on his name day. He smiled fondly thinking of the wrapping paper that had been decorated with artfully childish drawings of rapiers and roses and the tag that had simply read ‘Father’ in what he recognized as Bel’s best ‘from the office of the Lord Speaker’ handwriting. He glanced at himself in the mirror as he finished settling the cuffs of his shirt. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes had deepened in the eight years since he’d met his girls and he fancied he could name the individual care and laugh lines caused by a pair of daughters who had chosen dangerous trades. He smiled and ran a thumb over one of the cuff links, the title had been the kind of jest that obfuscated a heartfelt sentiment.

Such a family he’d stumbled into that afternoon at the Coin and Coffer the day he and Art’imis had first met.

“Father isn’t a bad look on you lovely.” X’rhun looked up from fussing with his ascot to see Riol standing behind him in the mirror. The spy smiled and stepped forward to kiss his lover’s cheek. “General Tarupin asked Thancred and I to double check the security measures for the Sultana's birthday party. We just finished. ”

X’rhun turned around to claim a proper kiss from the other man. “That will help put Art’imis’s mind to rest.”

“Don’t blame her,” Riol’s easy smile vanished as bitter memories surfaced briefly. “That was… a bad night.”

X’rhun brushed his thumb across Riol’s cheek.

“Papashan must have been put out by that request.”

“Papashan can put on big boy pants and deal with it.” Riol said flatly. He leaned into X’rhun’s touch and suddenly his smile came back, “I’m afraid I have bad news from the adventurer’s guild though.”

The Miqo’te mage arched an eyebrow and let his hand drop only for Riol to catch it and lace their fingers together. The blond’s smile became a grin. “I’m afraid you've been ousted as the guild’s favorite discreet bodyguard and arm candy for formal occasions.”

X’rhun put a hand to his chest to mime a heart attack the effect was spoiled by the amusement in his eyes though, “Say it’s not so! Who could they possibly replace me with.”

“The Ashley twins.” Riol laughed.

“I thought they were in Doma?” X’rhun straightened up from his play acting and pulled away from Riol so that he could retrieve his frock coat from its hanger.

“Just got back a month ago, evidently they got themselves some shinobi training out East.”

“And they’ve ousted me?” X’rhun shook his head and chuckled. “Serves me right for not checking in for jobs more often I suppose.”

“Nah, Momondi said there’d be too much drama given how you and Art are anything but subtle. Evidently she’s forcing them to go to the weaver’s for fashion lessons.”

“Oh that would be something to see.” X’rhun paused for a moment to admire the embroidery on the short coat. Black embroidery on black fabric added texture without calling attention to what the designs were, and scattered here and there were tiny blood red crystals with such clarity that the black silk beneath could be seen. Acramina arrays for aether acceleration and control, protection from the elements as well as blunt force trauma. He wondered how Redolent Rose had coaxed an arcanist away to come join the weavers. And for that matter he’d gotten his hands on what he knew where crystals being grown in a going experiment between the Goldsmiths, Alchemists, Arcanists, and Thaumaturges, and Godbert Manderville. (On second thought it had probably been Manderville). The coat layered over a closely fitted waist coat of deep red silk cross woven with ebony black. Here the arrays had been embroidered with glittering gold work and the same red crystals as the coat.

“Redolent really did outdo himself this time,” Riol didn’t bother to hide how much he admired the cut of the pants and how much it flattered X’rhun’s ass. “Still glad it’s you two and not me rubbing elbows with Ul’dah’s elite.”

“I remember something about the Admiral banning you from formal events?” X’rhun chuckled and turned just enough that Riol could see all he wanted.

Riol grinned but didn’t elaborate on the rumor. Instead he stepped around to X’rhun’s front to straighten the lay of the frockcoat’s collar. He moved to straighten the ascot and got his fingers smacked for his trouble. “I love you dearly Riol but there are toddlers that could tie a better ascot or cravat than you.”

The blond hyur pouted, “Are you impugning my fashion sense?”

“That would imply there was one to start with.” X’rhun said, dry as the Sangolii. He offered a courtly arm to his lover and Riol linked their elbows like a farmer and his wife walking to market. The mage laughed and kissed the rouge’s cheek. “Let’s go see if the girls are done fussing with our kitten yet.”

Riol laughed and motioned for X’rhun to take the lead, “Lead the way dear Nuhn.”

They laughed and teased each other as they went to find their missing lover.

#ffxivwrite 2021 #ffxiv #ffxiv fan fiction #red head writes a thing #x'rhun tia #riol forrest #I'll probably writ more about the Saltuanas Birthday party at some point

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ellewritesathing · 4 years ago

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You’re My Problem

Summary: What happens when you take unrequited love, throw in some jealousy, and add a dash of impulsivity? You get a recipe for disaster.

Word Count: 2.8k+

A/N: this was requested by @i-write-things-sometimes-x a forever ago. thank you for being so patient and i’m so sorry it took so long for me to write this!! 💕

Stiles’ Stilinski was a dumbass. He was impulsive, he was reckless, and he couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t Lydia Martin for longer than five minutes. But he was also the one who brought you soup when you were sick, the one who remembered your birthday, and the one you’d been in love with since before you could remember.

He’d been oblivious to all your attempts of getting him to see you as something other than a friend pretty much for as long as you’d known him. Erica thought it was hilarious, and she never let you live down the mouth-to-mouth debacle after he’d almost drowned with the kanima venom. She’d been nicer about it, though, since Lydia and Stiles had their own moment of panic-induced lip-locking.

But it wasn’t just Erica that changed - everything was different after their kiss. As dramatic as your reaction seemed when you looked back on it, something inside you snapped that day, and all of your pent-up rage from being powerless in a town of supernaturals bubbled to the surface. You convinced Derek to turn you, and things between you, Stiles, and Scott had never been the same.

“And here I thought you came to lacrosse practice for me.” Isaac set down his gear with a grin and grabbed your water bottle. The light caught on his eyelashes as he drank, painting delicate ribbons down his cheeks as long as his chin was tilted up to the sky.

Erica didn’t care about how pretty Isaac could be, because she didn’t find him nearly as pretty as the lacrosse players packing up on the field. She rolled her eyes and pushed Isaac to the side, not bothering to adjust her strength in the process. “Move over, lover boy. You’re blocking my view.”

Armed with an evil grin and the knowledge that Erica couldn’t do anything to him in front of all these people, Isaac moved directly in front of her and tilted his head. “Didn’t Derek tell you to be nicer to people?”

“Derek also told me not to smother you in your sleep, so-” Erica reached forward, hand extended almost as gently as to move one of his curls out of his face, and shoved him to the ground “-you better watch out.” She drummed her fingers on the bleachers with an evil smile of her own before jumping up to follow one of the lacrosse boys off the field.

Laughing off Erica’s dramatics and shaking your head, you got up and held a hand out to help Isaac to his feet. “Come on.” You waved your fingers when he didn’t reach out. “You stink and the sooner you shower, the sooner I get lunch.”

“Yeah?” Isaac reached up for your hand and leaned on his other elbow for support. “That kinda sucks for you.”

It was your own fault for not noticing the glint of mischief in his eye before he wrapped his hand around yours and pulled you to the ground next to him. Soon enough, the two of you were rolling around the field (you trying to get up and him ruining every attempt) and laughing just like you always did. Your hands were barely intertwined, but it was still enough to feel his pulse racing.

“Are you two done? Because Coach is gonna turn on the sprinklers in like five minutes.”

Your heartbeat shot up at the sound of Stiles’ voice. Clumsily, you untangled yourself from Isaac and sat up. It didn’t matter whether you were human or superhuman, facing a cute boy or the monster of the week, nothing made you more nervous than Stiles Stilinski. “Yeah, we were just- uh, just leaving to grab some lunch. You wanna come with?”

“Thanks, but I kinda lost my appetite.” Stiles waited an awkward moment and then shrugged, rolled his lacrosse stick over in his hand, and started walking away. The faded number 24 bobbed up and down as he walked away from you, like a boat treading very uncertain waters.

You let out a deep breath and hid your head in your hands. It didn’t matter what you did, conversations with Stiles always ended awkwardly or with one of you leaving. At least this way, you couldn’t see the embarrassing aftermath.

“Oh, come on-” Isaac knocked your knee with his, letting out a laugh. You could practically hear him rolling his eyes before you turned to face him. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“He hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“Ever since I turned, it’s like he can’t even bear to look at me.”

“And you are so hard to look at,” Isaac said with a grin. He rolled his eyes again and let out a low laugh. If he was going to say anything else about your massively mortifying crush on Stiles Stilinski, he didn’t get the chance. The sprinklers switched on.

---

You were a real pain in the ass. You were annoyingly right about everything, you always had to get your own way, and you could barely focus on anything that wasn’t Isaac Lahey for longer than five minutes. But you were also the one that watched Star Wars with him when he couldn’t sleep, the one that saved him a seat in English, and the one Stiles had been in love with since before he could remember.

Even after the world went to hell in a handbasket, Stiles thought he might have had a shot with you. All he had to do was find the right time to talk to you - and it seemed like the perfect time after you saved him from drowning - but he waited too long. Somehow something always came around to ruin his perfect moment. Eventually, you turned and traded him in for the one and only Isaac ‘Pretentious Asshole’ Lahey.

In the understatement of the century, Scott said, “Dude, you should just talk to her,” in that aggravatingly optimistic way of his.

“Yeah? I should just talk to her, and tell her that I love her, and then maybe we’ll just walk off into the sunset like a Julia Roberts movie?” Stiles was robbed of the satisfaction of his snark by Scott’s dumbstruck face. “Oh my god, what is it now? What’s with the face?”

Scott scrunched up his face and pulled on the straps of his backpack. He rocked on his heels defensively. “I don’t have a face.”

“You totally have a face, okay?” Stiles waved his hand in front of Scott’s face. “This right here is the face you make when it’s tater tot day.”

Scott shrugged and tried to play it cool. “It’s nothing, just-” He took a deep breath, leaned in, and said, “You just said that you love her. That’s all.” With another trademark Scott McCall shrug and smile, he started walking off to make his English class before the second bell.

“Well…” Stiles said to an empty hallway. He let out a heavy sigh and slammed his locker. “Shit.”

---

You’d spent your entire life pining over Stiles Stilinski. All those years wasted on a guy who didn’t have feelings for you, when there was a perfectly sweet distraction right next to him. Sure, maybe Isaac didn’t know your favorite movie candy and he didn’t always know the right thing to say when you were having a bad day, but he snuck you out of detention and he didn’t make you so tongue-tied that you couldn’t speak in complete sentences.

Isaac was fun. He made you feel witty. Maybe he wasn’t perfect, but he was fun.

This night was the closest to perfect you’d had in a long time: Lydia’s epic homecoming party. There were copious amounts of alcohol and scarce supervision, you and Isaac were dancing, and the full moon wasn’t for another week. It was as perfect as you were ever going to get … and yet you couldn’t stop stealing glances at Stiles.

Outright staring at him would have been preferable, but he had been glowering at you ever since Isaac, Erica, and Boyd showed up. If you didn’t want to see the look of annoyance that was almost permanently on his face when it came to you, then stealing glances would have to be enough.

It was a shame, though, because there was something so magnetic about him tonight. Maybe it was the effortlessness that made him attractive. He was slightly overdue for a haircut, so he was dragging a hand through it every other minute in that nervous way of his. Even though his plaid was one of the too big ones Noah had bought for Christmas a few years ago, his t-shirt was one from the older collection that he was in the process of outgrowing. Disheveled suited him; he was almost perfect. If the annoyed look on his face would disappear, so would the ‘almost.’

Isaac ducked his head down to speak to you over the blare of the music, lip grazing your ear as he spoke. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?” you asked, trying to brighten up when you looked up at him. You should have tried harder, but dancing with Isaac and being witty wasn’t a priority when Stiles was so mad at you.

The corners of Isaac’s mouth curled up and he tilted his head to the side. You knew that Stiles was the thing, even if he didn’t say it while he twirled you out.

Isaac pulled you in slightly too quickly, so you collapsed into him more than anything else. The two of you were still laughing and cracking jokes about super-healing when you caught a glimpse of Stiles angrily swigging what was left of a beer and disappearing into the house.

For a moment, all the sweaty teens and bright lights faded away. You untangled yourself from Isaac quickly and clumsily before rushing out an “I gotta go” and pushing your way through the crowd.

It was easier to breathe when you reached the second floor without so many people around. The only problem was that all the air disappeared the moment you were alone with Stiles. It was the first time in months that you’d spent any time alone together, and the fact that he was more than a little tipsy wasn’t making things any easier.

Still, you followed him into one of the rooms and closed the door. “Hey, Stiles, are you doing okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, actually, I’m just peachy.” Stiles dropped the necklace he was fiddling with and brushed his nose with his thumb. “Perfect. Nothing to complain about, you know? At least no one’s trying to kill me this week.”

“Sounds like maybe you should be celebrating,” you said carefully, trying not to spook him as you made your way over. “You know, instead of hanging out up here, going through Lydia’s great aunt’s jewelry.”

Stiles let out a hollow laugh and turned awkwardly to the jewelry box on the dresser. He shrugged and picked up the necklace again. “But it’s so shiny and I’m so awkward,” he whined.

You took a few steps closer to take the necklace out of his hands before he broke the clasp. “You’re not awkward.” Stiles gave you a sideways look and you laughed. “Okay, maybe you’re a little awkward, but it’s an endearing kind of awkward.”

Stiles stubbornly refused to give you the necklace without a fight, and the chain was caught in the crossfire. The both of you panicked and scrambled to fix it, but this wasn’t the kind of necklace that two teenagers and a pair of tweezers could fix.

Stiles gave up struggling over the necklace and let out a heavy sigh, hand curling over one half of the broken chain and the bathroom sink. The necklace had been the only thing keeping the weight of the world off his shoulders - the only thing keeping Stiles tipsy and happy instead of almost drunk and kind of sad. “Just forget it,” he said. His voice was raw. “No amount of trying is gonna fix it.”

“Don’t say that.” You grabbed Stiles’ half of the chain out of his hand and put it next to the other half on the counter. Willing the chains to fuse back together and decidedly not looking at Stiles, you said, “You can’t just give up like that.”

“Why not? The necklace is broken and I broke it. I can’t fix it.”

“You can at least try to fix it.”

“Maybe it doesn’t wanna be fixed. Maybe it’s happier with the stupid scarf, alright?”

“Wait, what scarf?” When he didn’t answer, you looked up from the necklace to find him staring guiltily at the floor. “Stiles, please don’t tell me there’s some ruined Hermes scarf up here because Lydia will kill me.”

Still no answer.

As gently as you could, you reached out to touch his shoulder. “Stiles-”

“Just forget it!” Stiles snapped, pulling away before you could touch him. He almost crashed into the door in his hurry to get away from you. “Go dance with your scarf, okay? You two deserve one another.”

Stiles stormed into the bedroom, and you stormed after him. You caught his arm before he even made it halfway across the room. “Okay, man, what the hell is your problem?”

“My problem?” Stiles echoed. “You wanna know what my problem is?”

“Yes! You’ve been glaring at me all night, avoiding me for like six months, and- what? Now you’re freaking out over a broken necklace?” You took a step closer to him, pulse racing. “So, what’s your problem?”

“Okay, you know what? You’re my problem.” Stiles was so close that you didn’t need werewolf superpowers to feel all the emotions coming off him. “We were best friends until you ditched me for Isaac Freaking Lahey, okay? We used to hang out like all the time, and now we barely spend any time together unless someone’s trying to kill us. And you’re impossible to talk to-”

“I’m impossible to talk to?” you echoed. “Stiles, you cringe every time you see me.”

“I do not!” he said defensively, scrunching his face slightly. “Okay, maybe I do but that’s because whenever I see you, Isaac’s following you around like a puppy dog.”

You couldn’t help but scoff at that. The puppy comment was a cheap shot and it wasn’t like Stiles could complain when he made it perfectly clear that he didn’t have feelings for you. “So is your problem actually with me? Because so far all you’ve done is talk about Isaac.”

“I don’t- it’s both of you, alright?” Stiles let out a shaky breath and looked away. He took a second to run a hand down the side of his face before speaking again. “My problem is that I have feelings for you and you don’t even know I exist anymore.”

No amount of accelerated werewolf reflexes could have prepared you for that. For a second, you were too surprised to respond. “You … have feelings for me? I thought you were in love with Lydia.”

Stiles snorted. “Please, she kissed me once and it was terrible for both of us.” He shifted his weight awkwardly, unsure what to say while you adjusted to the information. “Besides,” he said in a much slower, much quieter voice, “it’s not like she’s you.”

“Isaac hates Star Wars,” you said quietly, staring at the bullseye in the middle of Stiles’ shirt instead of meeting his eyes.

“God, I hate that guy,” Stiles mumbled. He looked around the room awkwardly before landing on the tv in the corner. “You wanna, uh, watch something with me? I really don’t want to go back down there.”

You nodded without giving it any thought, looking up at Stiles and giving him the first real smile you’d had all night. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Great!” Stiles gave a short laugh before slowing his breathing and looking at you so seriously that you thought your heart would stop. “Just, uh, one more thing?” he asked, voice quiet and delicate again. You started rambling, but the words fell away as soon as Stiles lifted his hands to either side of your face. The whole world slowed for a moment, coming almost to a complete stand-still when he pressed his lips against yours. “There,” Stiles said softly. “I’ve been thinking about that since freshman year.”

Despite all the anxiety racing through your system, or maybe because of it, you laughed. The sound of his heartbeat was deafening as you reached a hand up to the side of Stiles’ neck. Time slowed again as you leaned up on your toes, kissed him again, and realized that maybe this night was perfect after all.

#stiles stilinski #teen wolf #request #i-write-things-sometimes-x

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eveenstar · 4 years ago

Note

Can I please get the gang comforting f!reader after a nightmare? Sadie, Arthur, Javier, Charles pleasee!! Thank you

Of coursee!! Hope you like it!!

Sadie Adler

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)?” Sadie whispered as she slightly tried to wake you up from your distressed form. She was one of the few people already awake and apparently the only one who noticed you were having a nightmare.

You woke up in a jump and quickly grabbed your gun, only to see Sadie staring at you confused and a bit worried. “Sadie, it’s...it’s you.” You said after looking around your tent, searching for something that wasn’t clearly there. “I’m sorry, I thought...I had a dream that...sorry.” You sounded so tense that Sadie grabbed your hand softly as she looked at you.

“I have those too.” She admitted with a caring look in her brown eyes. “I’m here if you need to talk ‘bout it.” You gave her a tiny smile, you knew she was there for you no matter what. The sudden memory of seeing her face covered in blood made your eyebrows furrow in a unsettling way. You looked down for a minute before getting up and wipping the tears threatening to leave your eyes.

“I got you, alright? I won’t let you stay here alone, c’mon.” It was all a nightmare, you know. Everything was fine, you were fine, the gang was fine. You continued to smile, feeling the fear wash away as Sadie guided you towards the horses. You just needed a bit of fresh air in the best company.

Arthur Morgan

You decided to have a private moment with the nature after a horrible nightmare woke you up. You didn’t want to bother anyone in the camp with silly dreams. How late was it? Maybe 2 or 3 am.

“(Y/N)?” You turned around to see Arthur walking towards you, the pale light of the moon shining on his form. Gods, he was such a beautiful man. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“Oh, Arthur, did I wake you up? I didn’t mean to.” You sighed in defeat, crossing your arms and looking up to the dark sky. You felt Arthur’s hands on your shoulds as he turned you around to face him, a worried look painted on his eyes. “Nightmares?” You nodded in agreement.

You couldn’t help but hug him, wishing you could have a full night of sleep. “It’s gonna be okay, darlin’” He didn’t need to say another word, being in his arms felt so at ease, relieving even. You both stood there, just appreciating the silence of the night. You couldn’t trade this for anything, perhaps if you stood still enough this moment could last forever. He was your safe haven, only Arthur could push your fears and nightmares away.

Javier Escuella

Those awful images didn’t leave your brain even after you woke up, sweating and shaking. You tried to catch your breath as you didn’t want to wake up Javier, who was sleeping peacefully next to you.

A sob caught up in your throat made it even worse, you wanted to cry but you couldn’t. Your body wasn’t making any sound at all. Like when you’re trapped inside a nightmare, fear taking over you, and you can’t scream.

“ Cariño, what’s wrong?” Javier’s sleepy voice startled you. It wasn’t the first time he woke up to this, he couldn’t help but feel his heart ache. Fortunately, he knew just the right remedy. “Come here,”

As your lover embraced you into his arms, Javier placed his chin on top of your head as his thumb caressed your cheek slowly. “De la Sierra Morena, cielito lindo, vienen bajando,” He quietly sung your favorite song, he knew that his voice was the only thing that could get you to sleep after a nightmare. “un par de ojos negros, cielito lindo, de contrabando.”

Charles Smith

Charles was the first one to wake up this morning. He was picking up a few flowers to give to you, he saw how troubled you seemed lately so maybe something special would cheer you up.

He stopped the second he took a step inside your tent and saw you sweating and mumbling incoherent words during your sleep. Charles dropped the flowers and quickly rushed to your side, trying to wake you up gently. You literally jumped out of his arms and knocked him back, eyes wide open and ready to attack whoever touched you.

“(Y/N)! It’s me!” You blinked a few times before staring back at him, realizing what you’ve done. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You placed a hand on your mouth in shock. You’ve been having nightmares recently, but you never attacked anyone during them. And it just had to be Charles.

“Is this what’s been troubling you?” You ran your hands across your face and nodded. The next thing you knew, his hands were on your cheeks, softly caressing them. Charles had that loving and tender look on his face again as he gazed at you, no words exchanged, just looks. He didn’t need words to say you were safe, you were okay, his presence already brought that feeling to you. You knew you should’ve told him about your nightmares earlier, well, now he knows. And he’s not going anywhere soon.

#red dead redemption x reader #rdr2 x reader #charles smith #charles smith x reader #javier escuella #javier escuella x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #sadie adler #sadie adler x reader

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sunflowergirl522 · 4 years ago

Text

Runaway: Their Journey Begins

Pairing: Tiefling!Bucky x Elf!Reader

Summary: Bucky takes a lot of jobs to make a living and this one was no different. Except for the fact that it’s for an elf prince and elves tend to avoid him in general. He accepts and with Sam and Steve they start their journey to find the elf prince’s runaway bride.

Word Count: 2,551

Warnings: Language (if there’s anything else let me know)

Bucky and Steve sit in a dark corner of the crowded tavern drinking from their mugs of beer. They decided to come for some drinks to celebrate the mission they just successfully completed.

“How mad do you think Sam is since we had to trade away his lute for the jewel?” Steve chuckles as he asks Bucky the question.

“Seeing that he separated from us as soon as we got in here he’s gotta be fuming. I bet steam is coming out of his little ears just thinking about it. Where is he anyway?” As if on cue a table falls over and their heads turn in the direction to see Sam standing where it once was in front of an orc who’s just realizing what happened. You can tell just looking at Sam that he’s both very drunk and angry. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out Sam pushed the table over.

“Watch where you’re walking, you big oaf! You almost trampled me!” Sam kicks the orcs legs while he speaks. Bucky and Steve both look at each other knowing what’s about to happen.

“You spilled my drink on me. Who do you think you are?” The orc lifts Sam up by the collar of his shirt and yells at him.

“It’s your turn to save him. I did it last time.” Steve sips from his mug nonchalantly as he reminds Bucky.

“For such a small guy he sure causes a shit load of problems.” Steve laughs as Bucky hesitantly gets up to help their friend. “Hey buddy! Why don’t you pick on someone closer to your size?”

“Get out of here handle head. I have no issues with you.”

“Yeah well now you do.” Bucky gives a punch to the orcs stomach and he drops Sam.

“Okay devil man you asked for it.” That’s when the tavern erupts into chaos. Bucky’s quicker than the orc and dodges his punch while landing a blow to his crotch and knocks him back onto a table. He climbs on top of the orc to land blow after blow to his face.

The tavern doors open and everyone freezes as elven guards walk into the building. It’s rare to see elves in the tavern and you never even see sun elves anywhere. Sun elves normally just stuck to their own areas. So seeing a bunch of royal guards coming into the tavern was enough to stop Bucky mid punch to figure out what’s going on. A hush falls over the tavern and the people who were muttering to each other go silent as an elf prince walks in. He stops in the doorway and scans through the building before his eyes land on Bucky. The prince makes his way over to him stopping just in front of the table. He makes a face of disgust looking at the bloody orc before speaking.

“I’m in need of your services.” Bucky’s eyes go wide for a second in shock before throwing one last punch to the orcs face and motioning for the prince to follow him back to Steve and Sam. The prince grimaces at the sight of Sam so drunk he’s barely conscious and very hesitantly takes a seat across from the human and tiefling.

“What can we do for you?”

“I need you to find someone for me. My bride to be has disappeared under my watch. As of this morning she was missing from her room and she’s not in my kingdom. It’s preferable that you find her before her father finds out that she’s gone. I believe that she was kidnapped though we have very few enemies and none were aware that she was visiting.”

“What does she look like?”

“She’s a moon elf, that’s pretty self explanatory.”

“I assure you, your majesty, that we don’t see a lot of moon elves in our profession. We need a description to find the right girl.” A moment of silence as the prince tries to find the words to say and something clicks in Bucky’s head. “You’ve never even seen her have you?” The annoyance in his voice wasn’t well hidden and Steve’s quick to but in.

“Where was she last?”

“The last any of my guards or her guards saw her was in the room she was using during her visit.”

“Can I assume you won’t let us in said kingdom?”

“You can and you’d be correct.”

“So you expect me to be able to find some lost princess, who may or may not have just left on her own, with no description, no reason for someone to take her, and without being able to track her from the last place she was. You must be out-”

“We can help.” Steve is quick to interject and cut Bucky off from insulting the prince. Bucky shoots Steve a glare while crossing his arms. “Do you have any suggestions on where we should start looking?”

“There’s a town not too far from the kingdom, I believe it’s called Tavin, I’d start there.” He motions a finger for a guard to come over and he drops a bag of coins onto the table. You’ll get the rest after you return her safely.” The prince then gets up swiftly and leaves the tavern with his guards following close behind him. Steve grabs the coins before Sam can get just sober enough to get his hands on them.

“What an entitled fucking weed eater! We’re never gonna find this damned princess!” Bucky slams his fist onto the table causing Sam to grumble slightly at the noise.

“Are you the best at what you do?”

“Of course I am.” Bucky scoffs at the thought of someone being better than him.

“Then we shouldn’t have a problem finding her.” Steve smirks at Bucky knowing he won whatever argument they could’ve had. “Now let’s go sober up Sam and pack up.” He tosses Sam over his shoulder and starts to make his way out of the tavern. Bucky follows while grumbling to himself in Infernal.

***

It took them an hour of dunking Sam's head in cold water and slapping him to get him mostly sobered up. It was a system of Steve pulling his head out of the bucket and Bucky slapping him before Steve dunks his head back in. It’s a system they had to create because Sam always insists that he can drink as much as them and not get drunk when he does every time.

“So what exactly are we doing again?” Sam speaks from atop Steve’s shoulders where he climbed up due to getting tired from walking.

“We have to find some elf broad for some prince.” Bucky’s fists haven’t really unclenched since they left town. His annoyance at how little they had to work with was amusing to Steve because he knew that as soon as they got a hint at where the princess could be, Bucky would get the job done in no time.

“Bucky’s still upset with how little we know about her or where she could be.” Steve looks up at Sam to explain the hostility in their friends' voice.

“An elf gal huh? I know the perfect song for this!”

“No!” Bucky doesn’t even have to turn around to know that Sam’s about to reach behind him to grab his new lute that he made them stop to buy on their way out.

The trio eventually comes to a crossroads and according to the map they have both paths will eventually lead to Tavin.

“I’ve been to Tavin before if we go right we’ll be able to get there faster.” Bucky looks at Steve while pointing to the path he believes to be right.

“Buck, I’ve gone to Tavin a hundred times if we go left it will take longer, yes but, there’s a small village in between us and Tavin.”

“Steve if I wanted to stop at a town I would’ve picked that one. The prince said that he would prefer we find her before daddy dearest finds out so we should take the quicker path.”

Their bickering continues for a few more minutes before Sam gets annoyed and looks at the map himself. Taking into consideration what both his friends said he starts walking one way while bringing his lute around his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Steve yells out to Sam while Bucky smirks at Steve knowing that Sam had just made their decision and he chose the right path.

“I’m gonna go find me an elf lover!” Ater speaking he begins to strum the strings and sing a song about the love between an elf and a halfling. Steve shoots one of his own smirks at Bucky knowing how annoyed he’s about to get and Bucky groans before they both follow close behind Sam.

“Why did I have to befriend a bard?”

“Because said bard saved your life, on more than one occasion.” Sam answers the rhetorical question still strumming away.

“Shut it shortstack, you were only able to help because no one can see you coming.”

“Can we just all agree that you’re both idiots and move on with our lives? I’d rather not spend the whole trip listening to the two of you argue.” Steve can’t speak without letting out a chuckle at how ridiculous they are.

“Alright.” Sam goes back to his song.

“Fine.”

The trio walks on for hours with Sam playing songs here and there and with them all cracking jokes at each other. They walk till after sundown and well into the night. Thanks to the stash of food Sam always has they didn’t need to stop to hunt for anything.

“Can we stop walking now? It’s almost too dark to see the path.” Sam asks.

“Maybe for you but that’s why I’m here.”

“He’s right Bucky. We should set up camp for the night, we could all use some sleep.”

“Alright c’mon, I see a clearing off the path up ahead. We can set up there, I’ll start a fire.” Bucky leads them up the path a little longer before turning just off of it. He takes his pack off and heads off to find wood, leaving Sam and Steve to set up the tent. When he gets back Steve is sitting outside the tent and Sam already went to sleep.

“Do you think we really need a fire?”

“You’re telling me this now? After I went out to find and get wood.” Bucky drops all the wood he’s holding at Steve’s feet.

“I thought you could use some time to yourself to calm down.” Bucky just nods at him and sits next to him, leaning back on his hands.

“Do you really think we’re gonna find the girl Steve?” Bucky asks after a moment of silence between them.

“Of course I do. As soon as we get a hint of where she is you’ll be able to find her in no time.”

“I’ve been thinking, the prince said that no one knew that she was there right? She could have just run away, I mean it’s clearly an arranged marriage and he isn’t much of a catch?”

“I don’t know Buck, from what I’ve heard arranged marriages are rare even among elves. I’m sure if they were getting married they knew each other. I’m gonna head to bed, you should too.”

“Yeah I will in a bit.” Steve heads into the tent and Bucky looks up at the moon. He can’t help but think that Steve’s wrong. He sits there looking up at the moon for a while before following Steve into the tent.

***

“Wake up devil boy! It’s time to get this show on the road! Shit!” Sam whines as Bucky flicks him with his tail. “You’re so fucking grumpy when you wake up.”

“It’s only when it’s to your voice.” Bucky sits up and leaves the tent yawning in the process.

“Morning Buck. It looks like we should make it to Tavin today.” Steve is sat with the map spread out in front of him.

“Morning.” A strand of hair falls over Bucky’s forehead and he runs a hand through the hair in between his horns. “Do I still have food left Sam or should I go hunt something down?”

“It’s gone but Steve already hunted you down some rabbits.” Steve was always an early riser while Bucky was an all-nighter. Sam just liked to sleep, it’s dangerous to even let him rest in a sunbeam.

Bucky looks to Steve and he pulls Bucky’s food pack from behind him to show him the already cooked rabbits inside. “Thanks Steve. Sam come help me pack up the tent.”

Once the tent is packed up the trio starts continuing their journey to Tavin.

***

Tavin is a lively town with merchants and musicians littering the streets. Bucky puts his hood up to hide his horns the best he can. He does this often when they go to a town because he doesn’t know how people will react to a tiefling being among them.

“We should stop at the tavern first.” Steve suggests to Bucky while Sam follows close behind them.

“Well what are we waiting for let’s go!” Sam speeds up hearing the word tavern ready to eat and drink. They follow Sam to the tavern, La Luna, and Bucky grabs the back of Sam's shirt to stop him when they enter.

“We’re not here to drink, got it?”

“Yeah yeah, just here to get information, you’re no fun.”

Steve and Bucky make their way up to the bartender while Sam gets distracted by a pretty dwarf.

“Hey there newcomers, can I get you anything?”

“No thanks, we're just wondering if you can help us find someone.” Steve leans against the counter.

“Barely a soul comes through here that I don’t know.”

“We’re looking for a moon elf princess, you seen her?”

“I may have, my memory may need jogged though.” Bucky slides some coins on the counter knowing how this process works. “I’ve seen her, she comes here often when she’s off adventuring. Pops actually named this place in honor of her.”

“Has she been here recently?”

“Was here just yesterday, she left with a clan of dwarves that are frequent customers.”

“Do you know where we can find those dwarves?” Bucky slides him a few more coins over to him.

“You got a map?”

Meanwhile Sam is trying to shoot his shot with the dwarf maiden he spotted.

“Hey sweet thing, my friends and I are in town looking for someone and I think I may be who you’re looking for.”

“That depends on who you're looking for.” She sends a seductive smirk to Sam and boy is he weak to attractive women.

“Some elf princess, I’m sure you’re much more attractive than her though.”

“Where are your friends now and do they care if we disappear from here for a bit?” Sam points over to Steve and Bucky who’re talking to the bar tender and she looks over.

“Over there, I just have to let them know i’m leaving with a pretty lady-”

“Actually I gotta go.” She cuts Sam off and leaves the tavern in a hurry.

“Her loss.” Sam shrugs and makes his way over to his friends.

“C’mon Sam, we’ve got a lead.”

Permanent Taglist: @starbxcks

Taglist: @poppunkdork @sourpatchspinster (If you guys don’t want to be tagged let me know you were just the ones that got me back into this)

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #steve rogers #sam wilson #Tiefling!bucky #elf!reader #fantasy au #runaway

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piscesparker · 4 years ago

Text

All for her majesty T.H

a/n: This is my submission for @calltothewild ‘s writing challenge ;)

Word count: 1.5k

Commoner!tom AU

“I want to show you something”

Being born in a royal family had its pros and cons, mostly cons. Since the beginning of learning your fathers trade you hated it, the constant meeting of suitors and other people from other kingdoms. But the only thing you ever loved was knowing that your father trusted you, that you would be the best queen the kingdom will have, and he was completely on board with you not searching for love like most princesses.

It was just another normal day in the castle, the hustling and bustling of the servants preparing for another idiotic and self-obsessed prince. You had no choice but to conduct this meeting because your father was visiting another kingdom for official business, but as the future queen you had to do what’s best for your kingdom and its people. The meeting began as usual with the two of you walking in the corridors of the massive castle and the prince trying to impress you with the number of battles he led, instead of talking about the actual matter at hand which was talking about the betterment of your two kingdoms.

“So as you can tell I led the tropes and to victory.” He bragged as you rolled your eyes, and suddenly one of your servants came up asking if you needed anything at all, cutting off the boasting bastard. “Hello? Can’t you see we’re having a serious conversation?” He barked at her, making her flinch. The behavior enraged you, the servants at your palace were never treated as servants and certainly not with this rude behaviour. She began walking away when you called out to her, “Yes I do need something, can you please call the guards to escort the prince and his entourage out of the castle please?”

“Yes, your highness.” She bowed and left, making the prince turn to you with rage written all over his face.

“Excuse me what do you think you’re doing?” He asked. You took a deep breath before you could begin, “You can excuse yourself! You have no right to talk to her like that!”

“She’s just a servant!” He cut you off.

“Maybe for you, but in this kingdom and in this castle everyone is treated equally, and because of your attitude I have decided to cut all ties with your kingdom.” You informed sternly.

“My father will hear of this!” He huffed and left. “Yeah? I’ll make sure of that!”

If your father was in the kingdom you’d never leave, but since he wasn’t you took the opportunity to just wander around the market, talking with the people, making you beloved and respected. Even though you denied your mothers request of having the guards come with you she insisted, for your sake of your safety.

More than any place you always loved visiting the flower market, the various lilies and orchids seem to brighten up your mood, making you feel relaxed. Walking through a certain cart of neatly arranged flowers caught your attention, and you were greeted by a boy with brown curls who was about your age, and extremely handsome.

“Your majesty!” He bowed in respect as you caught him off guard, “How may I help you?”

“You can call me Y/n,” You laughed, “and you're the florist, what do you think I should get?” Without hesitation he smiled and began to pick up the flower in front of him into a bouquet, “Here you go.” He said, handing over the assortment of flowers to you. Looking at it you were blown away with the colors as well as the scent, “Thank you, they look absolutely wonderful!”

“But they are nothing compared to you, your majesty!” He complimented as the tips of his ears turned red as the roses on the cart. You spent the next few minutes talking to Tom about him and his family, when the guards notified you that you have been summoned back to the castle. “I’ll see you soon!” You told Tom as the guards escorted you to the carriage. You were quite perplexed when you were suddenly called back, but all your questions were answered when you entered the castle gates and saw your fathers carriage already waiting meaning that he was back from his business.

As the huge doors of the throne room opened you were greeted by your father, you rushed as embraced him, “I have missed you father!”

“I missed you to my pumpkin!” He smiled.

“How was your trip?”

“It went extremely well, but I heard your meeting with Prince Henry didn’t.” Sighing once again you began, “Father you know how I care for the kingdom and its well being, I couldn’t let us trade with him, he was extremely rude to Maria.” You explained. “Pumpkin, I know that, but you can’t just do that because someone is rude.”

“Yes, I know, but-” All of a sudden you were interrupted by one of the guards.

“Your majesty, you left these in the carriage.” He said, handing over the bouquet of flowers Tom had given you earlier.

“Those are wonderful flowers y/n!” Your father admired the flowers.

“Aren’t they?”

“But do you know what these flowers mean?”

“No.”

“Well the yellow and white roses symbolize friendship, where as the hidden lilies symbolize love, who gave you these?” A small blush crept up for cheeks as your father parted his knowledge of flowers with you. “A commoner gave it to me.” You smiled, fiddling with the hidden lilies.

“Well, it looks like you have an admirer.” As your father left the room, you were confused, ‘did he actually admire you?’ you thought, of course he would, everyone does, but you secretly wished he admired you as your lover. Days go by and you find yourself visiting the flower market quite often than usual, meaning meeting Tom more often and falling harder for him. Tom had all the qualities you ever looked for in a man, kind, caring, gentle; you could go on for hours on how wonderfully amazing he was.

Sitting in your study you were going through some papers when a servant dropped off a letter which was in your name. Which was odd because you never got letters; opening the envelope it was from none other than Tom, which made a wide grin appear on your face as the butterflies in your stomach fluttered. As you read the letter you discovered that he wanted to meet you in a secret location, which was in the countryside.

As dusk fell and the moon light spread all over the the land and the sky, you disguised yourself in order to sneak off and meet Tom. You were never for keeping secrets, but if Tom’s the secret you would definitely keep him all to yourself. When you arrived at said location, it was pitch black and the moon was the only light you saw until you heard the faint rustling of the grass in the field. As the intoxicating scent of Tom filled your nostrils you felt a pair of hands cover your eyes, “Guess who.” He whispered in your ears, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I know it’s you Tommy.” You chuckled, his hands slipped off your face and landed on your hips as he turned you in a swift motion to face him. “I want to show you something.” He whispered due to the closeness, grabbing your hand and leading you deeper in the field as he asked you to close your eyes. “You can open them.” As your eyes fluttered open, you saw the field full of fireflies flying all over, making you feel completely overwhelmed. “Tommy, I love this!” You exclaimed, pulling him in a tight hug.

Pulling away he held your hands in his, as his eyes lit up, he began, “Your majesty, I am no suitor or prince, I have no treasure but you, I will never be able to bring the stars to you, but this is the closest I will ever get to it,” he said pointing at the fireflies, “but right now and right here all I have to say is that I love you and I know you have many wealthy princes lining up for you. Your majesty, y/n you don’t have to reciprocate this feeling, you can throw me in the dungeon if you will, but I just had to say this.” You had been waiting for this moment all your life, waiting to find true love and now you finally have and you couldn’t let him go. So you pull him in and place your lips on his trembling ones. And in that one kiss you felt your life complete, like you’ve found your other half.

“I love you too Tom, and I wouldn’t have it any other way than this!” You laughed, as Tom placed his lips once again on yours and twirling you around. As the days went on, it soon led to your coronation and as you sat on the throne with your parents and Tom by your side, you actually felt content with everything that was everything. And just when you thought things couldn’t be any more perfect, Tom asked for your hand to your father, which he gladly did, because your father knew your choice was the best.

A year later the kingdom witnessed the most extravagant wedding ever and you and Tom lived happily ever after.

General Taglist: @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @perspectiveparker @mischiefmanaged011 @hollanderfangirl @calltothewild @parkerpeter24 @whatthefuckimbisexual @musicalkeys @rnatasha @hollands-weasley @peterspideysstuff @ethereal-beauty-p @parker-hollandx @theonly1outof-a-billion @miraclesoflove @theliterarymess

Tom Holland Taglist: @words-to-accomplish-something @asshatgrace @fancyxparker

#tom holland #tom hollandxreader #tom holland imagine #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #commoner!au

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adonis-koo · 5 years ago

Text

Lust • pjm

↳ Summary: The village of Incúrsio has always said to be plagued by a demon, to keep its evil at bay they must sacrifice a young virgin to its hunger every year. You assumed that was a certain death, by what means? You didn’t know. Becoming the the mate of the Prince of Hell to keep his brother away from you? That was never apart of the folktale.

↳ Genre: demon!au, supernatural, smut, strangers to lovers

↳ Word Count: 11k

↳ Pairing: Jimin/Reader

↳ Tags: MC is thirsty as hell, thigh riding, multiple orgasms and I mean a LOT, eating out, overstimulation, virginal sex, mutual masturbation, sub/dom overtones, finger fucking, creamiepie, unprotected sex, jimin has a big dong

Last installment

Note: Second installment to Halloween!verse !! I this is technically edited but I’m probably still gonna go back and tweak a few things, just a heads up. You don’t have to read the last installment for this series but there is a loosely followed plot :)

Incúrsio was right in the middle of the most used trading route in the whole realm. You’d often met people from many walks of life and there was never a dull day with so much life flooding your village. Incúrsio however, did come with its faults. And now laying in bed sleepless over the past twelve hours, you briefly wondered if those faults were even justifiable.

You see, Incúrsio, was home to the demons curse. An old folktale in your opinion to scare children. Your village, however, took the curse as serious as they came which opened the door to the ceremony held each year to pick the unfortunate virgin girl who’d be used as the Offering.

The virgin girl, had become you.

You believed in a lot of things. But demons were not one of them. At least not until today. Not until you were chosen from the bowl of many names, what would happen to you? You had grown up your whole life watching them drag girls kicking and screaming into the woods only to disappear and never be seen again. Would they just kill you right there?

Thoughts rolled throughout your head as you stared at the ceiling, the wood had begun rotting last year and you were surprised by the last bad storm that had rolled through the village hadn’t caused the roof to cave in on you. Maybe it would right now, you’d prefer it over whatever fate laid ahead.

The door to your room opened wide causing the early morning light to stream inside as your caretaker Grelda opened the door. Twenty two years all to be thrown away on one single piece of note with your name written down. Anger flooded your veins but your mind was numb as you wordlessly rose to your feet as followed her down the small crooked hall.

Most mornings were spent through banter while helping her make breakfast, she had been so kind to take you in when you were nothing but a small helpless child, you filled one another's lives with joy. And yet it was all absent today, the last you’d ever spend together.

Grelda had prepared you a bath, it was the first time all year you had sat down in warm water and she had even helped clean your hair. It was all in name of the celebration of the demon not destroying your village another year. The village would even throw a whole celebration that night after your death. You knew because you had always gone in previous years.

Only now did you realize just how sickening it was.

Your hair had been scrubbed near clean and the dirt from under your nails had been picked, the skin you had long since was used to have a layer of dirt covering it was polished like fine china and standing still in the dainty long white dress. The one you swore you’d wear on your wedding day- you felt as if you didn’t even know who you were any longer.

Hearing the loud knock wrap against the old unsteady door of the entrance made your heart drop into your stomach, it was time.

Grelda quickly finished the long braid in your hair before leading you to the door, stopping in front of it only to turn around and pull you into a tight hug, “I love you, my child, no matter what,” Your eyes were already stinging at the choke in her voice, her own quiet anger quivering before forcing it back, to stay strong for the both of you, “You will be okay.” She pulled away and pressed a chaste kiss on your forehead as a louder, more demanding knock rapped once more.

You could only muster a single nod as your eyes threatened to water before glancing down at your feet.

Grelda quickly opened the door to reveal the head townsmen and a few other volunteers stood stoically, as if anticipating you’d put up a fight as most girls did in the last few minutes of their life. Being sleep deprived and emotionally exhausted from your long night, some hours spent in rage while others spent in tears. You couldn’t muster anymore emotion as you stepped forward. Letting them clasp your upperarms tightly, a man on either side of you as you began to walk forwards.

Incúrsio really was a quaint place, most wouldn’t suspect it of being under such a horrid curse. The fog in the early morning gave it a haunted but enchanted feeling and a single candle stood outside of everyone’s homes, a silent mourning of the one who would be lost today. Your eyes set on the road ahead where you noticed guards were on rotation.

They must’ve arrived last night from the Kingdom up north. The Jeon Dynasty had always been too kind for their own good and you felt a brief surprise fill your face at the sight of them. Hysteria had been setting in with the Offering so close and talk of the town was the Blood Moon pack had been spotted scouting your village not too long ago.

Werewolves, were a fickle kind and often temperamental by nature but the Jeons had just signed a peace treaty with them. Surely they wouldn’t break it, right? Regardless and for whatever reason they had went ahead and sent guards anyways.

Biting against your lip you could only wonder what went through the royals heads.

You were quickly forced from your thoughts as the townsmen suddenly yanked you along forcing you to stumble slightly while attempting to keep in line with their steps into the woods where every other girl before you had also went.

Would they kill you now? Or would they just leave you lost in the woods for a blood starved vampire to find? Or a crazed werewolf to eat? Anxiety began to spike through your mind and briefly, it felt as if your life had flashed before your eyes as you began to approach the odditie ahead.

It looked like a pegan altar of sorts, the stone head like a gateway to nothing and the large black burnt circle free of any tree’s sat at it’s entrance, oh my god you were going to be literally sacrificed weren’t you? Your breath had become hitched and unsteady as you passed through the stone hedge and stood in the middle of the circle, the head townsmen forced you to kneel and then silence set in.

One second went by, then another. And another. What was supposed to happen? You could tell this was an unusual sight as the volunteers began to fidget from side to side their eyes darting to one another and you could see the hysteria getting to them as well. Swallowing you forced your eyes shut once more as your exhale came out shaky and timid.

Another minute had to become five eventually and just when you thought perhaps you'd be spared over this year one of the volunteers finally spoke, “This- This isn’t normal! Let’s just kill her and go! The demon can still feed on her afterwards!”

His words was the only spark needed to cause everyone to snap in anxiety as they began to fight among themselves. Someone determined to keep you alive while others agreeing with him and wanting you dead. Before you could blink blood had been spilled and the hysteria was becoming thick and crazed before a sharp knife was suddenly being hurdled at you in the hands of a volunteer.

You scrambled back onto your bottom before harshly closing your eyes with a whimper as defeated tears finally slid down your face. You waited for the sharp, burning puncture to set in only to timidly open your eyes from the odd silence. A tall, dark figure stood in front of you undisturbed and regal before humming, “That won’t be necessary.”

Your lips had parted as you breathlessly gaped at the figure of a human until he turned around. Dark magenta eyes like you had never seen before, too dark to be a vampire and too pink to be a werewolf. A large, almost demented smirk coiled on his lips wrapping you in a spill of darkness making your head light and your body weak as the void filled around you both leaving everyone behind.

“Don’t worry,” He leaned down, grabbing your chin, “You’re safe now darling.”

Your head was light, and briefly you wondered if the hysteria got to you as well. Your vision was beginning to spot and before you could even speak your body finally collapsed.

Groaning your body felt weak and briefly you could feel a bead of sweat trickle down your forehead, god you were so hot. Did you have a fever? Your mind was hazy and had a dull ache as you forced your eyes open, anticipating the old rotting ceiling of your bedroom.

Instead your eyes were met with a the black silk canopy and the plush bed beneath you sunk against your body brought it’s ache a small relief.

Had you the energy you would’ve shot out of the bed with a scream at where the hell were you.

But your movement was sluggish and forced you to lay there, still and in a dazed wonder, “You’re awake,” His voice was like silk, soft as an angel but the magenta eyes were anything but, “Don’t try to move,” He turned to face you, his face slim and cheekbones chiseled and high, the odd silver hair making him look ironically angelic, “You’re body is still in shock from traversing the first time.”

Closing your eyes you swallowed thickly, trying to keep the whimper from escaping your lips before forcing your timid voice to rasp, “Aren’t you going to kill me? Rape me? You’re a demon.” He was in the perfect position to do as such, you weren’t even sure you could muster a scream right now, your body was so dull and it was difficult to even wiggle your fingers.

His lips curled slightly in amusement as he walked to the bedside, pulling out the chair from his desk as he sat down, “Even demons aren’t as bad as they’re made out to be,” He clacked his tongue, a playful myrth in his eyes as he continued, a little more serious, “A demon must have consent, without it we’ll turn to dust.”

“Oh,” You breathed, glancing up at him wearily before back at the silk canopy hanging above you while muttering, “So you’re going to kill me.” If you had the energy, you’d be interrogating the supposed demon already while wielding a pillow for your defense but instead you just decided to dramatically accept your fate.

He clacked his tongue once more causing your gaze to shift back to him as he replied, “Is it so difficult to assume I’m not going to harm you?”

“...Yes.” You replied after a moment of silence making him chuckle as you frowned, “I was dragged out into the woods and almost killed only to be transported to hell with a demon. Is just killing me too much to ask?” His laugh only continued as he shook his head.

The amused smirk pulling on his lips as he leaned back in his seat, setting his foot against his other knee as he answered, “I’m afraid so darling. I’m in need of a mate, you were getting ready to be killed, it’s all very convenient for the both of us. You’re alive, and now I don’t have to search through the whole realm for a mate.”

Your lips parted and closed several times before your voice rasped in defiance though it only came out cracked and half whispered, “I didn’t agree to that!”

“Yes well…” He shrugged, not looking shocked by your resistance as he continued, “I didn’t agree with that either but here I am. I could always send you off to my brother like originally intended.”

You weren’t sure what that was supposed to mean. But going off any indication of his trailed off words, his brother must’ve not as been such a gentlemen as himself. You huffed, glancing back up to the canopy. When you woke up that morning, you had intended anything but this to happen. But he was right, you were alive and you most definitely would’ve met your untimely fate if it weren’t for him, the last thing you were going to do was pick a fight with the man who had saved your life. Demon or not.

Being his mate? Which in human terms was likened to marriage? Outrageous and you weren’t about to let that happen. But you’d cross that bridge when the time came as he didn’t seem set on genuinely mating you and there was always a chance he was just teasing you, as you quickly found out. For a demon, he seemed awfully light hearted.

“What is your name?” You muttered, glancing up at the soft silk. Was this how the royals slept at night you wondered? You had always tried to imagine falling asleep in such luxury at night only to wake up in the grunge of your bedroom.

But now, if there was anything you could appreciate, it was the aesthetic and pleasure of the room.

“Lust.” Your eyes shot back to his figure in mild panic and horror as his smirk curled into a more seductive one, his eyes brighter than before as he introduced himself before he chuckled, his body relaxing once more making a scowl twitch on your lips at his teasing, “Formally, on the surface I’m simply referred to as Jimin. You may call me as such if it’s more comfortable.”

Jimin laughed once more at the constant twitch of your lips as you fought the scold that continuously tried to twist further onto your face, “Y/n.”

He gave a hum as he plucked your hand up from the bed, your arm felt like a heavy weight but his plump soft lips felt like a caress of clouds against your skin as he kissed the knuckle of your hand, “Well it’s a pleasure to meet you Y/n, circumstances aside.” Jimin set your hand down before standing up, “Now get some sleep darling. The effects of the traversing will wear off soon.” Despite your ruffledness you found yourself listening to him as your lashes heavily fluttered closed, you could barely register the blanket being covered over your body as sleep took you once more.

The next time you woke up your head was clear from it’s pain and your body was as light as a feather. The first thing you noticed were the lights of the room had been gone leaving it dark and you wondered if it was supposedly night? You weren’t actually in Hell, right? You had been overdramatic earlier but surely that wasn’t the case. Hell was, well....Hell, endless torture. You established that this definitely was not it as you turned to face the other wall.

Instead you were faced with the sleeping demon, who had stayed respectfully on his side of the bed, but just registering that you were in his room, of course, had you yelping in surprise as you tumbled out of the bed.

Your body instantly throbbing as it hit the ground making you whine out. The bed aboved shifted as you watched him peer above you with furrowed brows and messy hair, expression twisting with amusement as he asked, “Do you enjoy sitting on the floor? You always seem to end up there.”

Anger brittled through your veins as you gave a huffy indignant whine, fumbling as you stood up while stomping your foot, pointing a finger down at him menacingly as he leaned back against his hands, not looking the least bit threatened, “I…! I demand to be let go! I am not staying here!”

Jimin rose his brows before he let a small smirk curl on his face shrugging as he waved his hand, allowing his upper body to collapse against the bed. His silk black sleep shirt only held together by a single button parting to reveal his warm toned skin beneath, “Then leave.” He said it so easily, not even looking as if he truly cared, making you scold further.

Wanting to get a reaction from him, you assumed he’d at least put up a fight or maybe his eyes would go pitch black and his voice would go demonic telling you to never leave the room. Instead the infuriating man looked as if he already won the battle as he dismissively waved a hand to the door.

Stomping your foot once more you huffed before turning around and going for the door, you weren’t going to question his motives and all you needed to figure out was where to find the exit and how to get back home. Maybe the whole village would burn you at the stake for being a witch? Even if you weren’t alive by magic they didn’t know any better and it had been outlawed punishable by death.

But you’d rather take your chances there, then stay here with such an insufferable person.

Opening the door you felt a vague sense of unsurety run through you, the halls were lit in red and darkened by black silhouettes, the large crystal chandelier above head held by black candles that flickered dimly litting the hall as you stepped outside the room hesitantly.

Frowning you gently shut the door as you glanced around, suddenly swallowed by anxiety, you had never seen so much grandiose in your whole life, what was held in these halls? Were there more demons like Jimin.

Surely not all were as nice as him...Groaning you ran a hand through your hair as you tried to muster the courage to just walk down the hall and find the exit. You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of the door opening not to far down the hall making a gentle whimper escape your lips before fumbling with your own door. Not even realizing what you were doing until you shut it, back into the safety of Jimin’s room.

“That didn’t last long.” He hummed out, eyes still closed with an infuriating smug smile pulling on his lips.

You glared down at his figure with the strong urge to stomp on his pretty throat, you had never met someone so audacious and annoying in your whole life! He sat up finally as he opened his eyes, his smile turning a little more sincere as he raised his brows, “I’ll take you down to the kitchen, I’m sure you’re hungry after everything that’s happened.”

You were demanding to leave and this…! This fiend (literally) was going to act like you hadn't tried to run away and was now going to offer you food!? You were about to snap only to be stopped by the wail of your stomach. You may not have been interested in a late night snack, but your stomach most definitely was.

You could feel the blush began to creep it’s way onto your cheeks as your lips angrily frowned while Jimin laughed, standing up as he walked towards you. Grabbing your hands as he opened the door, “You humans are too cute.”

“I…!” Your nose wrinkled in anger, as you harshly glared at his soft hold on your hand. You would fight this man with your bare fists if he’d only put them up against you, “I don’t want to be here!”

Jimin sighed as he paused, turning to look at you as he raised a brow, “You don’t want to get a snack?” He looked as if he was talking to a toddler making your easily flared temper further as he snickered, always teasing it seemed.

The hallway had only turned into more and Jimin must’ve known his way around here well as he weaved so effortlessly through the...this had to be an estate, or maybe a castle? It was so big, “What is this…? You finally asked, your voice soft and curious as you glanced up towards the ceiling that sat so high up it could surely be mistook for an odd evening sky as the black candles flickered.

Opening the two large doors to the kitchen, Jimin glanced back at you as he encouragingly tugged on your hand, “The palace of course, where else?” His words made you stop in your track as your brows furrowed, parting your lips but now words came out.

This time he tugged you inside before shutting the door and allowing you to sit on the bench at the sturdy wooden table, “You’re in the heart of Hell darling. The Dark Lord resides here in the palace as well as his children. There’s six others but none too pleasant I’m afraid.” He pulled out the roll of leftover bread before cutting into it, “You could try to leave if you’d like but I doubt you’d get anywhere. Except perhaps took by one of my brothers,” Jimin’s shoulders stiffened slightly as he curved a brow, a more annoyed smile twitching on his lips as he finished cutting into the loaf, “Which believe me, for as insufferable as I am, my company is better then there’s.”

You frowned, glancing at the table from his words, still not quite registering the severity of them. Perhaps you assumed hell would be more...hellish. Maybe it was, this was the palace, naturally it took on a regal atmosphere but still, “Can’t you just taking me home…? You didn’t have a problem bringing me here.” You murmured quietly, shoulders sinking slightly as you felt a small quiver in your lips.

Jimin sighed, setting the large chunk of bread in front of you as he pulled out a goblet from the counter, pouring you a cup of water as he replied, “I wish it were that easy darling,” He set it beside the bread before taking a seat across from you, “You’re the yearly sacrifice from Incúrsio. Your kin,” He paused, his brows furrowed and a small odd smile pulled on his lips, “Have an odd perception about us cursing your village. That is not the case. Incúrsio, just so happens to be one of Hell’s transversing portals causing demonic energy to run strong. Virgin sacrifices are, vitally useless given there is no demon interest in destroying your village if they don’t ‘repay’ us once a year.”

Your frown furthered as you tilted your head, now curious more then anything at his words, finally you pulled a piece of bread off as you bit into the soft substance, “But the girls...they never returned afterwards. If a sacrifice isn’t needed, then where do they go?”

Jimin sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, face twisting into mild irritation that wasn’t aimed at you, but more his words, “Well it isn’t needed but it’s still gladly took by one of my brothers. Greed is always looking for another girl to add to his collection, his cardinal nature often gets the better of him. He looks at the yearly sacrifices as his. If I were to take you back, Greed would hunt you down without hesitation given you’ve become- in his mind apart of his harem per say.” He finally concluded as he glanced towards you.

You had parted your lips several times and yet you remained speechless, before ultimately deciding to nibble along the edge of the thick crust of the bread you held. So even if Jimin did take you home, you still wouldn’t be free? Dejection casted over your eyes as your shoulders sank slightly. At least you had a stroke of luck to have Jimin intervene with the Offering when he had then. His brother, Greed, didn’t sound the kindest and while Jimin did annoy you it was nothing more than your childishness coming out. He genuinely wasn’t all that bad of a company.

“So this is it then…” You sighed, finally speaking as you met his gaze, “I’m stuck with you?”

Jimin finally gave you a cheeky smile, tossing a wink your way that forced your lips into an unimpressed quirk, “I make great company after so long I can assure you.”

You clacked your tongue as you curved your brow, “Somehow, I doubt that.” And just as before, he only laughed, never seeming to take your sour words serious.

Jimin’s company, really wasn’t terrible. He teased you constantly and you’d sourly stomp your feet at him while complaining. You had spent most of the day in his bedroom though you’d be lying to say you weren’t curious to go out and explore, Jimin had duties to attend to- as apparently being a Prince of Hell held just as many duties as a regular Prince.

You couldn’t imagine how but you often decided to just not think about it. He promised to take you out and let you explore a little bit of the castle once he returned.

And so you waited, fiddling with the white dress you wore as you’d occasionally pace around the room. You’d poke around his bookshelf and attempted to read- except you never learned how. Furthermore the book must’ve been in latin as none of the wording seemed even familiar.

Eventually you had laid back down on the plush, soft bed of black satin and silks combined, you wrapped your arms around the fairly firm pillow as you sighed.

The smell of cedar and a distinct hint of ash mixed together, but often times this had began to bring you a sense of comfort. You almost jumped out of bed at the door to the room being opened Jimin appearing in the entry as he raised his brows, “You haven’t gotten cabin fever already, have you?”

“A little,” You admitted, feeling a bit sheepish at your words as you glanced away from him. Avoiding his cheeky smile as he gestured you over, laughing at your quick steps as you almost pounced over, excited to finally get out of this stuffy room. You had been a fair bit nervous of a tour. It wasn’t every day you were in the palace of Hell after all.

Jimin offered his arm out to you causing you to pause, glancing at it with a little suspicion as he chuckled, watching your childish weary expression before reluctantly hooking your own arm around him. Jimin instantly tugged you outside the door as he gave you a small smile, “It’s really not as intimidating as it sounds. The palace is beautiful and as long as you stay around it’s realms you’ll be fine. Any further and you’ll start stumbling on the souls here.”

He cringed a little at his words as he guided you through the long hall way that had you sheepish the first time you stepped outside of his room.

It still made you a little fidgety, something about it’s low lit red lights and black candles had your stomach churning, perhaps you’d get used to it eventually.

But this was going to take time, you were already beginning to miss the sun and the smell of the grass after it had just rained. What you’d give to see the blue sky above again rather than the black voidless ceiling of the palace. You’d imagine the outside wasn’t much better, you genuinely were in Hell.

It could be worse, you kept repeating those words to yourself. Because it really could be worse, you could be dead for one. Jimin could’ve killed you with the flick of his wrist, or so you imagined. You had never seen a demon obviously, and therefore had no idea what type of power they held. But you still imagined it was a lot, for a Prince of Hell no less.

You had passed by several people, all with disarrayed facial features and gruesome boils and abnormalities, their skin ashen and horns appeared from their head, just the sight of their black soulless eyes had you almost hiding behind Jimin. It only took one look from him for them to sudden scurry back to whatever they were doing. Jimin had referred to them as mere servants, often times taking their true form here when they were not present on the surface of the earth.

Regardless you weren’t sure you’d ever feel comfortable walking without Jimin by your side as he seemed completely stress free, and you supposed it made sense, he was their Prince after all.

All had been fine until you arrived at the throne room. It was vacant but massive and the large fire roared in its place didn’t need tending too as if it was a natural fire spout, or so Jimin had called it. The large chandelier hung over head in all it’s grandiose, the large iron throne standing on it’s own without a chair beside it. Glancing towards Jimin you could only wonder where his mother was, or if he even had a mother. How could a demon be born?

You had parted your lips, intending to ask instantly gaining Jimin’s attention. The large doors of the throne room however, were shoved open and in a fiery blaze all of the low lit candles roared and the fireplace near exploded sending you into a yelp as Jimin’s arms quickly wrapped around you, pulling you closer.

Contrary to Jimin the man that stalked in was tall and his own magenta eyes were bright and glaring down with hells fury and his black hair wild and dusting over his wrathful gaze, forcing a whimper down your throat as Jimin quickly squeezed against you reassuringly, his eyes as cold as ice in contrast as they stared back.

“You disgusting fiend, why don’t you take something that isn’t already claimed.” The man hissed out, the fire all around you burning darkly and the room at been lit up and the temperature had risen.

Jimin’s brows pressed together as he glared back, not phased at the man before as he replied, “I don’t remember your claim on Incúrsio’s sacrifices, Greed you have several mates, your cardinal sin is showing.”

You swallowed thickly, shrinking closer to him as fear overrode your body. So this was Greed? The man who’d hunt you down personally if you were to ever return to a normal life on the surface of earth unmated. You watched his jaw clench and it’s line sharp enough to cut, his eyes burning dark as he sneered, “And this one will become my mate just as the rest, you can’t hide her forever Lust.”

Jimin’s jaw clenched to match his brothers, his grip on you tightening as they stared one another down. The realization on why it was so important for you to stay with Jimin now finally hitting. It didn’t matter where you went, your soul belonged to Greed now and even if you could go back to normal life he’d still bring you back.

His glare harshened and his eyes suddenly glowed in color matching his brothers as he hissed out, “You can’t mate what’s already mine. Now go before you do something you’ll later regret.” Greed only gave a growl but you watched the flames in the room die down a little as he snarled, “Mark my words Lust, you’ll regret this.” He snapped around and walked out the doors leaving the room a few degrees cooler but it wasn’t the air that was making your body shake.

Jimin’s glare didn’t leave the door until Greed was out of sight, finally he seemed to register your shakiness as his grip on you loosened, thumbs soothing rubbing against your skin as he sighed, “Do you understand why it’s important for us to remain together now?” He asked with a hushed murmur, gently pressing a kiss into your hair, “If I could take you back to your old life I would, and I can. But it will only be a matter of time before Greed finds you there.”

It was silent for a minute and you hadn’t even realized how tight you were gripping his black buttoned shirt until you watched the blood drain from your knuckles, “Do...do we have too?” You could barely manage a whisper, your lips quivering at the thought as you tried to unclench your fists.

“As long as you remain unmated even staying in my room is a danger. Being mated to Greed isn’t necessarily bad,” Jimin sighed, as if realizing perhaps you did want to be someone else's, “But there’s a lot of strife between all of his mates and you’re guaranteed to never leave the lodge of his harem.”

His hands sat on your waist before he murmured, “I’d never do that to you, never to my mate. We could roam the earth together and see it’s every corner, you’d be free to go as you wish as long you returned to me. We’ve only just met now, but I need a mate Y/n, and you need one as well if you value your freedom at all.”

Your lips were quivering as you swallowed once more, you weren’t sure what this meant. But in terms of both Vampires and Werewolves a mate, was the equivalent to marriage and it sounded close to the same for a demon as well. The idea had your head spinning but just the memory of Greed’s fury ridden gaze had you quivering in fear, he was right.

If you wanted your freedom, you’d just have to trust Jimin’s words. They were so soft, and he had given a lot of promise in his words. Could he really take you back to earth, would you truly see the sun and the sky once more?

“Then we shouldn’t wait any longer.” You finally murmured, your gaze still downcast and your lips still quivering until you felt his hand cup your cheek, his fingers tracing along your jawline as he murmured soothingly, “Demon mating isn’t the same as other earthly creatures, it’s an intense but doesn’t require sexuality as most do.” He had already started leading you down the hall and by the familiarity of everything you could tell he was taking you back to his room.

You didn’t understand his reason for needing a mate but you wouldn’t deny him when he was your only option. You had just met Greed but you could tell you didn’t want to be his mate, he had several others and you’d be locked away for eternity.

This was your only option now.

Opening the door to the dark room Jimin seemed to lose his imperative rush as he gently closed it, letting you go to walk further into the room. Your body was still stiff and you were nervous, he said sexuality wasn’t required but...just how would this mating be performed?

You paused as you wearily glanced at Jimin, he had brought a black candle out of his dresser before turning to you, “Go ahead and sit down, this won’t take too long,” His voice was soothing as if noticing how quiet you had become, your banter being replaced by stiffness at the serious situation.

You’d be permanently bonded to him after this, you knew you had a choice. But this was clearly the better one, and he wasn’t terrible company...atleast not completely.

Shuffling you sat down on the edge of the bed, your hands folded meekly as you watched him set down black candles on the floor, forming a circle around the bed. Honestly, you felt like you were about to be sacrificed in a cult ritual, maybe this wasn’t far off…

Seeing Jimin pull out the silver plated knife with what appeared to be a latin incantation on it you couldn’t help the anxiety that shot through your whole body. Holy shit, you were definitely about to die. Was he gonna turn you into a demon? You had to swallow your anxiety as you fiddled with your fingers.

Seeing such a curved, wicked knife in his hands had you nervous though he wielded it so delicately, with a snap of his fingers the candles around the bed suddenly flickered with light, the light however matched the candles with a pure black flame that gave the room an odd silvery glow, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you,” Jimin offered a tiny smile as he kneeled down in front of you, knife still in hand as he continued, “I just need to put a nick in your body so I can place a blood sigal. It’ll just feel like a little pinch.”

“Wh...where are you gonna place it.” You curled slightly in weariness as you kept your gaze steadily on the silver blade that gleamed so beautifully under the lights. You had heard about both vampire and werewolf mating and it all had to do with biting, you supposed it made sense that demon’s would be different but still.

“Anywhere you’d like,” Jimin replied steadily, “Typically most go for the neck as it’s the most common mating mark, but it’s not necessary.” You watched the way his long slim fingers grazed against the edge of the blade, careful to not apply too much pressure or else he’d cut himself.

You swallowed thickly, your fingers unconsciously grazing over your neck before you shook your head. You always had a fear of possibly being drank dry by a vampire, even if you had never knew one well enough before, anything around your neck made you too squeamish.

Hesitantly you held your wrist, feeling a little more comfortable if you’d be able to watch the process take place, “Would my wrist work…?” Your lips quivered slightly and your shoulders sunk as you let your eyes flick away from his gaze.

He took hold of your wrist delicately, stroking over the skin covering your artiary as he nodded, “Perfect,” kneeling down he let the knife graze over your skin, the chill of the metal causing goosebumps to form over your skin as your breath hitched slightly before giving a small whimper at the nick skillfully cut to avoid your artiary. Setting the knife down on the bed Jimin clasped your wrist delicately before glancing up at you, “Just relax, mating is an intense practice but will be easier if you trust me. Okay?” His thumbs gently rubbed against your skin soothingly as you swallowed back another whimper before nodding.

Letting his eyes flutter shut Jimin placed his tongue over the cut, gently lapping up the blood before a bright glow casted over his eyes just as it did earlier when he spoke to his brother, his eyes flicked from you back down at your skin before you yelped, his tongue suddenly burning like fire on your skin as you tried to pull away.

Jimin kept your arm locked in place as he kept his tongue still, tears were beginning to gloss in your eyes and your vision was beginning to spot and darken as your senses became overwhelmed, fire licking at your skin as it felt like it was being melted, “Ow! It-It hurts!” You cried out weakly, the faint smell of ash and cedar filling your scent until you could smell nothing but those two notes.

Jimin said nothing, letting his tongue move gently over the mark, this thumbs rubbing against your skin soothingly as your breathing had become shallow, your vision of the room nearly dark and you couldn’t tell if you were crying anymore, every breath you took was the woody and light, yet smoky smell of cedar and your lungs choked with the burnt smell of ash.

Your senses were beginning to numb and the burn of his tongue was beginning to subside as your body weakly collapsed onto its side as Jimin closed his eyes. Your vision was beginning to go in phases and faintly the glow of his eyes had become red balls of light and you could feel your body beginning to overheat.

An odd wet pool beginning to set between your legs and your hair was beginning to stick to your neck as you let out a soft whine, your body becoming hypersensitive to every lick of his tongue against the soft skin of your wrist.

Opening his eyes he pulled away from your wrist, only letting go of you for a second before a loud whine suddenly escaped your lips, the sudden need for him to be close to taking over your body as you choked out a whimper, “Shhh,” Jimin murmured, gently sitting up on the bed as he pulled you into his chest, “The after effects are what make the process so intense, you take on the demons cardinal sin so it’s going to be a long few hours.”

Your body was burning up and you were rubbing your thighs together, uncomfortable at the stickiness between your legs as he soothingly stroked through your hair.

You couldn’t focus on the soothing gesture though when you sat in his lap, his thick muscular thighs bulging against his thin pants that had arousal soaking through your panties as you let out a breathy whine, “J..Jimin…” You could hardly stay still and your mind was groggy, then encased in his smell and focus was hazy with only one line thought in mind, “Pl-Please…”

“Shhh, that’s just the lust talking. I’m not going to do anything you’ll later regret,” You nearly cried at his gentle words, your body’s need becoming near unbearable, “We’ve become mated without becoming properly acquainted with one another, we have the rest of eternity Y/n.” Those were the words that made soft tears stream down your face as you shifted in his lap to straddle him.

Just the slightest graze of his pants making you jump with a breathy moan, “Please, you- you can’t just do this to me and then make me suffer.” Your hips instantly grinded down over his thigh, your gorged, hypersensitive clit dragging against the material as you moaned once more, pressing your face into his neck almost too overwhelmed by the sensation.

Jimin sighed, his grip on your tightening as if restraining himself before he replied, “You’re so stubborn.” His hands sat on your waist making you jump as you whined, grinding your hips harder on his thigh, a big wet mark forming over his pants as your slick arousal slipped off your folds, an insatiable desire forming in your body.

Noticing he hadn’t stop you your hips quickly beginning ride against his pants with little stifled whines and moans, your fingers tangling in his hair as your clit pressed down, rubbing into the soft fabric as your breath hitched, your body building it’s release at a fast pace that made your head dizzy and vision begin spotting again.

“Are you going to cum so soon?” Jimin murmured against your ear, his voice like honey but darkened a tone making you whine with a nod, his thigh suddenly bouncing against your soaked folds, rubbing into your little nub as you cried out, your release suddenly washing over your body as you cried softly, the wetness of your tears dripping into the crook of his neck as he soothingly rubbed your back, “Is it not enough darling?”

You rapidly shook your head, your hips already wanting to ride against his thigh once more as your hormones spiked once more your body nearly burning in pain at the need for your next release. Jimin suddenly picked you up making you cry out as you struggled to get out of his grip and back on his body as he gave a soft laugh, “Shhh don’t worry darling, I’ll help you just be patient.”

Your mind was hazy at the idea and you were still kicking about as you whined, “You! You made me like this- please!” Your impatience getting the better of you as Jimin sat you down on the bed unbuttoning his shirt, “Undress.” You didn’t need to be told twice as you fumbled with your dress, pulling it over your head and pushing down your panties.

Jimin had let his shirt fall from his shoulders as he rounded the bed, pulling his pants off nearly made your mouth water at the sight of his girthy length.

You had never seen anything so big, his bulbous head was a pretty pink and precum was beading from it’s slit, the slight curve of his cock had your body clenching around nothing as he sat against the headboard, ignoring his massive swollen cock that rested against his chiseled abdomen, hair messy and looking like pure sin, finally with a smirk and glowing eyes he commanded, “Come on little girl, you asked for this.”

Arousal was sliding down your thighs and your body was burning with need as you quickly crawled over, straddling him once more as he caught your hips, “You wanted my thigh that’s what you’ll get.” His eyes were dark and left no room for debate as you whined, settling against the warm skin of his thigh, your wetness dripping down against him as he let a crooked smirk pull on his lips, “You’re making such a big mess on my thigh doesn’t that little clit need relief?” He cooed out making your hips instantly buck against is thigh, your sticky wet pussy parting against his skin as your nub rubbed down making you moan.

Your body already hypersensitive but your mind was clouded by insatiable pleasure as you continued rocking your hips into his thigh. Jimin’s eyes stayed on your body as he licked his plump lips, finally he grabbed his fat cock as he began to stroke it making you whine, “Mmh! Please! Let me ride it! Please- please Jimin- please!” He said nothing in return but the sadistic smirk twisted on his lips, enjoying you suffer as you continued riding his thigh.

Your gorged, sensitive clit continuously rubbing in just the right spot that had your body stiffening and your words babbled and moaned as your next orgasm quickly spiked through your whole body, your hips tremored and a whine escaped your lips as Jimin kept a steady pace on his cock.

As soon as the euphoric feeling passed your body you were already wanting another, your body burning harshly and fresh arousal dripping from your folds and your inner thighs nearly coated, your cheeks were red in embarrassment as Jimin laughed at the sight, letting go of his members before grabbing your thighs. Forcing your back to hit the bed as he pulled your thighs over his shoulders, “So needy, you really are the mate of Lust huh.” His eyes were so pretty, glowing in the dark of the room in that intense color of magenta, his tongue dragged against your thigh, licking up your arousal as you whined, hips quickly lifting towards him as he forced them in place.

His tongue was hot and his own wetness mixed with yours as he sucked up all of the stray arousal on your thighs, licking his lips as he glanced down at you, his face truly that of angel with such a wicked smirk on his lips, you felt like nothing but prey under his gaze, your eyes lidded and timid as you shifted against his shoulders, “Watch.” Jimin commanded as he let his tongue place at the entrance between your slit making you cry out at the odd sensation, his tongue swirling and delicately pressing against your little hole teasing it as you obediently watched.

Your face burning brighter with each moment as he held your gaze so confidently, his tongue dragging up your wet folds before swiping across your sensitive clit making you throw your head back with another small whine. His hands suddenly gripped your ass tightly as he growled, “I said watch, don’t disobey me.” Whimpering you glanced back up, your cheeks on fire as he ate you alive, tongue lapping up your clit as you left out a breathy moan, trying to keep yourself from collapsing your head back against the bed, “Mmm! Feels so good- please! Please Jimin-”

Your hips rocked against his tongue that he stretched past his lips, letting your hips take over as his tongue flattened over your hypersensitive nub, crying out at the pain of your sensitivity, pleasure continued to wave through your body as you let out another moan.

With one more flick against your sweet spot your toes curled at the orgasm washing through your body, letting out a sob at the pain that washed with it, your head becoming dizzy from the pleasure but Jimin ignored your whimper as he coated his fingers along your folds, “Such a pretty girl,” You whined, squeezing your thighs as you watched his middle finger push inside you.

You had been told a first time was painful and yet you could hardly even feel his finger slide inside as he pushed another snug in your walls, “So wet for me, I could just fit my whole cock in this little hole without any preparation couldn’t I?” The effects of his cardinal sin over your body could probably let him do it with zero trouble, your walls clenched immediately at the thought, squeezing around his fingers making him chuckle, “Lust looks so good on you darling.”

Jimin pushed a third finger inside you before he began to drag them into the spongy little spot that had you crying out, head finally dropping against the bed and your back arching as your body rapidly clenched around him, “F-fuck please! Please!” Your legs were shaking and you weren’t sure if your pleas were for him to stop or to keep going, your body was demanding another fill of pleasure though as your hips obediently rocked in sync with the fingers he pumped into you with such ease.

“My little mate, so needy.” Jimin let his tongue flatten back over your clit making you let out a near scream at the electric shock of pleasure he provided, fingers nearly digging into your g-spot as your little walls rapidly clenched and relaxed around him, his tongue dripping spit mixing with your wetness as he lapped over your abused clit.

The lewd sounds spilled throughout the whole room, your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head as the loud relieved moan escaped your lips, a loud squelch of your body clenching roughly around him fingers as the next orgasm washed over your body.

Your hips nearly spazzed as he kept going, your thighs shaking like leaves as he ruthlessly glanced down at you, tongue still rubbing over your clit making tears fall down your face as you cried, the pleasure your body craved so intensely nearly overwhelming you. You were unable to do anything but take what was being given to you as he took your little clit into his mouth, his fingers slowing down as they pumped inside of you, lewd squelching sounding through the room with every thrust of his fingers inside you.

Your voice was rasped but moans wouldn’t stop flooding your lips as the raw feeling of your gorged nub being ate alive and Jimin continuously prodded his fingers against the soft spongy spot against your walls enough to bring fresh tears to your eyes, “Go on, cum again I know you want too.” Jimin instantly attached his lips back to your clit as you cried out the orgasm that had quickly built up obediently released on his command as you sobbed gently your body still hot and aroused as he pulled his fingers out of you, delicately setting your thighs back down.

Your lower body was completely shaking and yet fresh arousal was already beginning to slide down your legs against the bed making you choke out a quiet sob, you were so aroused and yet unsure if your body could even handle anymore. Jimin gently shushed you as he wiped your tears away, “It’ll be over soon darling, do you need my cock?” You couldn’t even form a proper sentence as you nodded, he cooed once more wiping your tears before pressing a kiss against your forehead, “It’s okay my love, I’ll take good care of you.”

Your hips ached dully as he spread your thighs, the cool air of the room hitting your wet slick folds once more as you let out a breathy whimper, the intense hormones washing over you again as Jimin grabbed ahold of his cock pumping it slowly before letting it’s curve fit against your folds, dragging over your clit as he coated himself in your wetness.

Bucking your hips you let out a raspy moan as repeated the motion again, letting his fat girth drag over your gorged bud once more, “You like that sweetheart?” Jimin purred out, his own eyes lidded with pleasure as he dragged his length back down your folds, grabbing ahold of his bulbous head as he circled it over your clit making you mew out as your back arched, “Please! Please Jimin!” You whined making him lick his lips as he guided his head to your entrance.

Carefully he pushed his head in making you tense up for a moment, the horrid first time you had always heard about wasn’t anything you had anticipated. Your cunt was practically split open by his large head and yet all you felt was a mild discomfort, wetness dripping from your stretched hole as he stroked your hips, “Does it hurt?”

“N-no,” You shook your head with a rasp, needily bucking your hips to get him to push further in, “Just- uncomfortable, a little weird?” You fumbled with your words, your cheeks bright red but he only laughed, for a breath moment he looked endeared at his new mates innocence.

Slowly he eased his cock inside you making you both string out moans, pausing as he let his whole cock sit and stretch inside you, your warm velvety walls tight around him as he purred, lips pressing into your neck, “You feel so good sweetheart, so tight and pure just for me to taint.”

Letting out a small whimper your walls clenched around him, legs quickly wrapping around his waist and his words ignited your horniness once more as you tried to bounce your hips against his, “Don’t tease me! Jimin please start moving…!” You whimpered, cheeks becoming hot again and your body craving another release despite it’s hypersensitivity.

On command Jimin quickly began thrusting, his cock stretching your small walls perfectly, shaft rubbing into that soft spot that had you moaning, back arching and eyes fluttering shut, “You’re just too easy to tease though darling,” He leaned down, hips rolling fluidly and the wet sounds your body made filled the room as he dragged his tongue over your neck, “God you feel so good around my cock.”

Feeling his fingers drag down your body back to your clit forced a cry from your lips, walls clenching around him causing a loud embarrassing wet squelch that had him moaning.

Pleasure was thrumming through your body once more as you breathed out cracked moans, his cock throbbing inside you, hitting into your g-spot with every stroke, fingers deftly rubbing over your swollen abused bud as your body twisted and withered, moaning with a cry as you felt your eyes water up, “One more time kitten,” Jimin nipped at your neck encouragingly, “I know you can do it.”

It was all you needed before you let out a loud cry, moaning with it as your body became wrecked with pleasure, you could barely even notice Jimin throwing his head back with a moan at the way your walls tightened around him, eyes burning magenta as he let his cock cream deep inside you, his release nestling inside you and with it the burning of your body began to cool down, suddenly whimpering at the slightest of touch against your skin.

Jimin pulled him softening members from you as he peppered your neck in kisses, “You did so well darling.”

With each little kiss came a stifled whine from you, the full effect of how sensitive your body was beginning to wash over you, Jimin had fully drained the life force from your body and you hadn’t realized how tired you had become until your eyes closed, letting your consciousness take you at the sound of the praise Jimin gave.

Your body was in pain, your hips were stiff even just laying down and the ache between your legs had you wincing as soon as you opened your eyes, you were without a doubt sore from what had taken place. Your face felt hot at the memory and your mind was throbbing in a dull headache as you groaned, shifting a little at the feeling of the warm body tucked against you.

It was then that you noticed the hand that was stroking your hair with a delicate hum, shifting slightly you winced once more before glancing up at Jimin’s wrecked appearance, his neatly styled hair had been wild and ridden with oil, still just as naked as you were though he didn’t appear to care, “Are you okay?” He gave a small smile, tenderly let his hand run down your back as rested your head back against his chest, listening to quiet beat of his heart, “A demons mating ritual can be very taxing for humans.”

“Everything hurts,” You answered dully, making him give a small laugh, hand still comfortingly running down your body. You couldn’t help but wonder as silence took over the room, why did he need a mate? Remembering his words when you first woke up in this bed made you shifted a little before softly speaking up, “Jimin.”

“Hm?” He hummed out, releasing you from his hold as you struggled to sit up, glancing down at his laid out figure as he raised his brows.

You fidgetted a little, feeling an air of self consciousness you didn’t have before under his cardinal sin at the feeling of your nipples perked, crossing your arms shyly to hide yourself you looked away, “Why did you need a mate?”

It was a valid question you had never thought of until this moment, but since you had met, Jimin made it clear this wasn’t out of pity for you or for some sort of twisted goal, he simply needed a mate though you had never asked and he never offered.

Jimin shifted slightly before sitting up as well, letting his back rest against the headboard as he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he answered, “If a demon isn’t mated before their thousand year mark their cardinal sin becomes amplified to the point of no return. I’d be like a starved incubai for the rest of my life, never sated and constantly rutting into someone or something. It could be worse but my time was running out, I have too many important responsibilities both in Hell and on the surface to let my cardinal sin run me. It just worked out that you were in need of a mate as well.”

It became quiet once more as you shifted against the soft mattress, you supposed it made sense, becoming unsated for the rest of your life did sound miserable and with the way he put it, it sounded as if he’d constantly be in a rut, even if this was an unlikely duo.

You’d make it work, Jimin wasn’t bad company and at the very least you could’ve ended up locked away in Hell for eternity mated to Greed or worse, you could be dead.

Jimin reached out, letting his hand brushed the hair over your shoulder, his touch warm and soft making you shudder slightly at the cold nip of the room, unable to resist you could feel a warm bond in your chest tightening as you felt the urge to coil in closer, “For what it’s worth, I think you’re a lovely mate.” Jimin teases lightly, making your cheeks dust pink as he tugged against your arm.

Without any protest you scooted closer to him, allowing his arms to wrap around you as he set his chin again your shoulder.

You felt weird at this new sensation, aware that it was your mating bond but still odd nonetheless on how innate being close to him at suddenly became, “I don’t have a problem with your reasoning, mine wasn’t any better,” You replied dryly before shrugging a little, ignoring the ache that continued to remind you of the event that had taken place earlier, “I was just curious why it was necessary for you.”

Jimin pressed a kiss into your hair, the odd light bond in your chest thrumming happily as you curled into him closer, “Well you have an answer, I just wish we could’ve had more time to properly form a bond before hand and I could explain what would take place. I’m sure taking on my cardinal sin wasn’t pleasant.”

He soothingly let his hand run down to your thigh, the pads of his fingers brushing over the skin delicately, “But at least down we can properly become acquainted without any looming threats, we can even visit your family on the surface as soon as you can properly walk.”

You slapped his arm making him chuckle as you glared down at the mattress, your gaze however softened after a moment and your chest stirred as you sighed, “That would be nice…I’m sure my guardian would love to host for a demon.”

Jimin seemed to notice the way you attempted to keep your voice level and upbeat as he let his hand run back up to your hair, petting against your hair before murmuring the question you had been expecting, “Guardian? Has your family passed on?”

“I don’t know.” You murmured with a sigh, the room had become quiet once more and Jimin was patiently waiting for you to continue, it wasn’t a pleasant memory by any means but your bond was almost making you feel obligated to go ahead and share it.

“I was young when it happened,” You explained while leaning against his chest, his chin resting on top of your head down before you felt a soft peck against your hair once more, “I don’t even remember much of any of it anymore. But…” You paused for a moment, pressing your brows together, “We were in a carriage and it had come to an abrupt stop, I don’t remember what my father had said but the next thing I knew the door had opened and I was the first to be pulled out.”

The memory was vague and brought you nothing but grief your whole life ripped away from you in just mere seconds, Jimin soothingly curled his arms around you listening patiently, “They were like a cult, black robes and faces hidden behind hoods, one had some sort of dagger in his hands, I thought he was gonna kill me but they ended up throwing me off to the side. I had to have bruised or broken something because it hurt to breathe and I could hardly stand.”

Sighing you let your fingers trace a pattern against his warm skin before you gave a small shrug, “And then they took them, my parents, kicking and screaming trying to fight. My sister was left in the carriage, she was just a newborn at the time and I tried going back to her, but…” you could feel guilt fester in your stomach as you sighed, “I ended up passing out and next thing I knew I woke up at my guardians house, she had been out along the rode searching for what herbs hadn’t withered from the cold when she found me. We went back just along the road outside of Incúrsio where our carriage was to find her but we were too late,”

You sighed, guilt would be useless now but still even as a small child you couldn’t help but take on that burden, she was your younger sister and you couldn’t even remember her name anymore, “She was gone, I don’t know if they came back for her, or if something…” You shuddered at the thought making Jimin give you a little squeeze.

“Perhaps she’s still out there, your parents could be alive as well.” Jimin offered softly, his thumbs rubbing into your skin soothingly, a mates touch relaxing you unlike you had ever known despite not even truly knowing the man that held you, “In fact, Incúrsio is right along one of the largest trading routes, I’m sure someone found her.”

You heart felt a little more at ease at the idea of your sister out there somewhere, perhaps living a more normal life then you, maybe she was living in the luxury she deserved, you could only pray she was, “I just hope she’s happy, wherever she is.”

Laughing softly Jimin pressed a kiss against your neck, “Well I’m sure she is, and the same could be said for you as well. Maybe we can find her in the future, we only have the rest of eternity together.”

You couldn’t help the smile that curled on your lips as your nose wrinkled at his words, pulling away as you raised your brows, “I can’t believe I really agreed to something so...indefinite.”

Snorting his own laugh Jimin let the smile quirk on his lips as he replied, “But you’ll come to love me anyways, I’m absolutely confident.” He sent you a wink making you roll your eyes, the bond between you both once more thrumming happily.

Perhaps he was right, maybe, just maybe, you would come to love him, regardless of what may come you doubt you’d ever admit it to him, even for the rest of eternity you refused to give him the satisfaction.

“We’ll see Lust, we’ll see.” You clacked your tongue, both smiling at each other and though mating was always done out of love but he sure did make one hell of a great friend too.

#bts #bangtan #jimin #park jimin #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #jimin x reader smut #demon!jimin #demon jimin x reader

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