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aemondapologistfrfr · 13 days ago

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You Can Have Anything You Want

aegon x fem!reader

Summary: Aegon needs comfort and seeks out the only person who can give him what he needs. You help him calm down and offer him as much comfort he desires.

Warnings: 18+ alicent not breaking generational curses!, swearing, wine, handjob, praise kink, oral(m), p in v, unprotected, sub!aeg 🫂, overstim

Authors Note: somewhat a s1ep8 insert but different bc i just wanna take care of him rn 🙂‍↕️🫠 bruh i almost put ice in this fic and i was like damn they really didn’t have ice or freezers wtf shits crazy - what’s also crazy is i��m posting this from my graduation ceremony so i’ll add the links to my masterlist and tag my taglist in a couple hours lmfao xx

Word Count: 2.8k

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Aegon doesn’t care that Rhaenyra and Daemon are coming to court. He doesn’t care about the succession or any of it. All his mother does is yell at him lately and he can’t take it anymore. He avoids being within the Keep’s walls as often as he can but over the past week leading up to his sister's arrival she’s had him watched more carefully. The tunnels were his only form of escape but when he was found stumbling in the front gate of the Keep in the early hours of the morning she had his guard check on him in his chambers hourly to make sure he was where he was supposed to be.

“How kind of you to check on me in my cell.” Aegon turns his head as his mother walks into his chambers.

“I could have a cell prepared for you.” she looks at him with exhausted eyes. “I don’t understand what happened to the sweet boy I once had.” she sighs.

“Mm,” he nods his head and walks over to the table to pour himself a cup of wine but finds the bottle empty. He curses lowly and walks over to his stash and fishes out a clear jar of amber liquid.

“Gods and the amount you drink..” she continues to tear into his every move and every choice. He drowns out her words and walks back to the table to pour his glass to the brim. He jumps when he feels her hand on his shoulder and he sets the bottle down with shaking hands. “Are you even listening to me?” she pulls him towards him.

“You yell at me about the same things every single day, mother.” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m not the son you want. You don’t like anything about me and you wish I was different. Did I miss anything?” he gasps as her hand flies across his face.

Everytime she hits him he hopes it’ll be the last. Surely a woman who has devoted herself so wholly to the Gods wouldn’t subject her children to such things. He turns back to her with wet eyes and she scoffs at him. He clenches his jaw and tries to make his mind go blank as she looks over him. She offers him a sneer before sweeping out of his chambers and leaving her self hatred and poor upbringing across his face. He turns back to the table to fill his glass and drains its contents in one go. He sighs, brushing his hair back and out of his face before walking over to the tunnel door.

Aegon softly closes the door that connects to his chambers and sighs in relief as the cool air breathes against his skin. He starts down the stairs trying to push his mothers words and actions out of his head so his tears don’t start anew. Once he’s out of the confines of the Keep it feels as if weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He slips through the crowds as he makes his way deeper into the city. When the crowds get thinner the more depraved his sights become.

The sounds of people coupling in the alleys greet his ears and his heart starts to beat faster. Gods the women on their knees in front of men leaning against the brick have him wanting to stop and watch for a while. He shakes his head and keeps walking because what he seeks tonight is very specific. His pace slows as he rounds the corner and stops in front of large wooden doors. He pushes them open and is immediately greeted by the warm atmosphere.

He finds it funny that he can feel such a sense of comfort in a pleasure house but to him this is how he envisions a loving home to be. Soft lighting and plush couches fill up the main room. There is a soft haze in the air from the candles and incense and words and sounds of pleasure here are more hushed, more intimate. He inhales deeply shutting his eyes and when he exhales his shoulders relax. As he opens his eyes he’s greeted by the madam standing in front of him with a soft smile.

“What would you like tonight, my Prince?” she purrs.

“I want to see her.” he feels his cheeks flush. He looks around the room more intensely searching for your face amongst the couches. He turns back to the madam when he can’t spot you. “Where is she?” his brows scrunch.

“I’ll go get her.” the madam cups his cheek. “Go get a drink.” she pats his chest and disappears behind the curtain.

Aegon sighs and walks past the different couples, never shying away to look longer than he should. The barhand hands him an overflowing cup of ale and Aegon nods his head before downing half of the cup before walking back through the open room. Aegon sinks into an unoccupied couch and lets his eyes shut as he finishes the rest of his cup. A smile spreads across his face as he feels your fingers brushing his hair back. When your nails scrape against his scalp he cracks his eyes open and flushes as he’s greeted by your exposed chest.

“Hello my sweet boy.” you hum, softly tugging his hair. You watch as he leans back into your touch and lets out a soft whine. “Do you want to go to bed?” he nods his head once and you walk around the couch and pull him up. You lead him down the hall and into your room and start to lift off his tunic. “What’s wrong?” you brush his hair back taking in his soft pout and red cheeks. As you search his eyes you see them start to well with tears and then notice that one of his cheeks is redder than the other.

“I don’t know.” he curses himself as his voice breaks. When you wrap your arms around him he freezes and then completely falls apart in your arms. “I’m sorry.” he rasps as his tears fall onto your shoulder.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” you whisper into his neck. You smooth his hair and his breathing starts to even out. “Are you okay?” you lean back and search his eyes. You cup his overly red cheek and softly stroke your thumb over the heated skin. “Do you want me to get you a cool cloth?” he will never get used to your kindness.

“No.” he shakes his head. “I’ll be okay.” his hands squeeze at your sides. “I just want you.” he trails his fingers up your sides to rub under your breasts.

“You can always have me, Aegon.” you start to unlace his trousers and push them down. “You can have anything you want, good boy.” you blink up at him and he lets out a soft whine.

“I want to go to your bed.” he smiles as you grab his hand and lead him over to your warm bed. He’s sure you have the softest blankets and pillows throughout all of the realm and he revels when he gets to lay in them with you. He watches as you sit back against your mountain of pillows and gesture for him to come to you.

“Come, let me help you feel better.” you grab his hand and help him lean back against your chest and sit between your legs. After he’s settled your lips press against his neck while your hands squeeze at his sides. He lets out soft whimpers as your hands roam across his chest while grazing your nails down his soft skin.

“Please,” he softly gasps as your hands tease down his thighs.

“What do you want, sweet boy?” you suck softly at his neck. You look down and see his red and leaking tip and smile to yourself. He whimpers, jerking his hips up and grabbing for your hand. Aegon brings your hand to his straining cock and sighs when your fingers wrap around him. You stroke him slowly, thumbing the droplets from his tip to help your hand glide smoother.

“Please, please,” he jerks his hips up into your hand.

“Shh shh,” you whisper into his neck. You turn his head to press your lips against his mouth. Your hand cradles his cheek while the other pumps his length. “You’re my best boy.” you mumble as you kiss down his jaw and he squirms in your arms. “You have the most pretty cock, Aegon.” you softly suck on his neck.

You slide your hand on his cheek down his torso and past his length to cup his balls. He groans, spreading his legs and leaning back into you. He rocks his hips into your hands and the whines and moans leaving his mouth go straight to your center. “You’re doing so good for me.” you praise as you focus on his tip, swiping your thumb across his slit and underside. “My favorite boy and favorite cock.” his chest tightens at your words.

“Please, yes, I’ll be good,” his words broken and pleasure slurred.

“You’re always so good for me, Aegon,” you press your lips to his pulse. His jerks start to become erratic and you slowly start to move his balls around in your hand and you speed up your pumps. “Be a good boy and come for me.” you tighten your grip and he whines as his pleasure starts to shoot across his flexing stomach. “You did so good, Aegon.” you press your lips up his neck and to his mouth. He devours your mouth desperately as you continue to slowly stroke him.

“Fuck,” he groans into your mouth. “Please,” he rolls his hips, starting to harden again. “I need you to fuck me, please,” he grabs at your arms.

“I was going to suck your cock first.” you press kisses down his jaw as small moans and gasps spill from his lips. “Would you like that, sweet boy? Do you want me to give your cock the kisses and attention it deserves?” you smile when he nods quickly, desperately grabbing for your hands.

“Yes, yes please.” his chest heaves as you slowly start to loosen your grip around his length. You remove your hands from him and slowly start to scoot out from behind him. You kneel next to him and take in his flushed cheeks and parted pink lips. He reaches up and pulls you down to his lips and you indulge in his greedy grip and let his hands travel all over your skin.

You release his lips and kiss down his chest. Your tongue darts across his nipples and he squirms, digging his fingers into your shoulders. Slowing down your movements you leave open mouth kisses down his navel cleaning up his come along the way. He groans watching you lick him clean as he softly bucks his hips. You kiss around his leaking tip that’s resting against his stomach as you settle between his thighs. He props himself up on his elbows when your fingers wrap around his cock and groans as you press your lips against him.

“Such a pretty cock, Aegon.” his cheeks flush a deeper red as your tongue swirls around his tip. “Such a pretty boy with a pretty cock.” he whimpers at your words. “Who is always so good for me. So sweet.” you murmur before flicking your tongue against the underside of his tip. Aegon tosses his head back into the pillows as you suck his tip into your mouth. He whines as your hands squeeze into his hips as you slowly sink your mouth down around him.

“Gods yes,” he whines as your cheeks hollow. His fingers go to your hair and you pull up. “No, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he removes his hands and you look up to him seeing his lip wobble.

“You have nothing to apologize for, sweet boy.” you hum. “I just want to hold your hands.” you nod at him offering a soft smile. You intertwine your fingers with his and bring them back to his hips as you press your lips against his shaft. He squeezes your hands as you suck him back into your mouth and bring him to the back of your throat. His hips jerk up and you moan around him moving your mouth faster.

“I’m gonna, fuck please,” he gasps as you suck his tip harshly while flicking your tongue against his slit. You look up and see his eyes slam shut as his hips go taught as his seed starts to pour down your throat. You continue your movements as he whimpers above you. “Please,” he squirms and tries to move out of your grasp but you dig your fingers into his as you keep licking and sucking at him. He trembles as you continue to shower him with pleasure as he cries out your name. You slowly loosen your grip on him and pull off of his cock while he whines.

“You did so good for me.” you press your lips back up his navel and chest. As you kiss up his body you move to straddle his hips as you hover above him. “You’re so pretty.” you cup his cheeks and start to pepper kisses across his flushed face. You slowly start to rock your hips against his sensitive cock, watching his eyes roll back. His fingers grip your sides as you slide your wetness across him.

“I wanna be in you. Please,” he jerks his hips up into you. Your lips fall to his and he pulls you closer molding you to him. “Please,” he whispers, arching his chest into yours.

“Relax, sweet boy.” you kiss down his jaw as you grind your hips down harder onto his slowly hardening length. “You know I like to take my time with you.” you chuckle feeling his fingers dig harder into your flesh. “Until your cock is crying for my cunt.” he gasps as your fingers reach between you both to grab his cock.

“Gods I’ll do anything, please,” his voice cracks as you pump him faster. You dip his tip into your wet core only to pull it out the next second. “Fuck,” he pants as he jerks his hips desperately. You guide his tip through your wetness relishing in his whimpers. “Please,” he pushes your hips down and you let out a soft moan. “Fuck, please let me make you feel good.” you nod, guiding his now hard cock to your entrance.

“Aegon,” you whine his name as you sink down on him. You press your hands to his chest as you start to rock against him. He looks up at you with lidded eyes as you start to bounce against him. “You feel so good.” you moan breathlessly tossing your head back. “Your cock always makes me,” you gasp as he jerks his hips up. You slow your rocking and you both moan loudly digging fingers into one another.

You lean down and move your hands to bury them in his hair as you press your lips to his. Aegon’s hands lower to your ass and squeeze before he starts to guide you. “Your cunt hugs my cock so perfectly. I wanna stay in it all night. Please,” you start to rock your hips faster at his words finally working towards your own pleasure.

“Of course, sweet boy.” you bury your head in his neck. “You make me feel so good.” you suck on his neck. Your hips roll against his faster as your stomach starts to tighten. “Fuck, Aegon.” you whine as he jerks his hips up into you. “Just like that, fuck, you’re such a good boy,” you cry out as your pleasure washes through you. He whines as you sink your teeth into his neck.

Aegon fills you with his pleasure at the feeling of you squeezing around him. He holds you tightly as he feels as if he’s being drained completely. His legs shake as you brush his hair back and offer him small kisses. You move up slightly to kiss across his hairline and you both moan at the feeling of him still buried deep inside you.

“You did so good, Aegon.” you press your lips to his. “You’re always so good for me. So good.” you roll your hips and he groans. “My perfect boy with his perfect cock.” his arms tighten around you as you continue to whisper words of praise and affection.

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masterlist 🔌

aegons the goodest boy fr

taglist ✍️

#aegon x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the second #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x you #aegon x reader smut #aegon smut #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii fanfic #aegon targaryen smut #x reader smut #x reader #x reader fic #hotd smut #hotd fanfic

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brain-rot-central · 9 months ago

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Up In Smoke

A/N: Basically he smokes weed and has a really good orgasm. That's the whole fic. Very self-indulgent, but whatever. Hope you all enjoy!

Rating: light E Word count: 3.5k Pairing: Spawn Astarion x Fem!Tav Warnings: 18+, dubcon for being under the influence, drug use, alcohol mention, breeding kink, praise kink, male masturbation, mutual pining, trauma mention, intimacy issues

Summary: The gang finally reaches Baldur's Gate. Astarion isn't handling it so well, knowing he's so close to Cazador again. Tav makes an innocent suggestion that he go down to the shops and find something that can help relieve some of his pent up anxiety.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he leans over to further inspect the small clear jar within his hands. Inside, a dried cluster of pungent flowers resides. Their faint smell lingers about the small tavern suite. He shakes the jar slightly, following how each bud bounces between the glass.

They've finally made it to Baldur's Gate, and gods what a relief. Not to say he didn't enjoy getting his hands messy, but there was never quite enough he could do to dig out the dirt caked within his nails. He dreamed of soaking in a hot bath for weeks.

Yet, being back in Baldur's Gate also means something more sinister.

It means he’s closer to confronting him.

His old master.

Cazador.

He panics the night before, screaming whenever he'd slip into trance. Horrid memories play behind his eyes. He feels paralyzed within them – the feeling of a hand closing around his neck, a dagger slicing into his back, shackles around his arms and legs, unable to move within the confines of the coffin he lay in for a year.

Tav wakes him eventually, holding him close within their warm embrace. She lulls him back to sleep until he slips into a more peaceful trance. When they awake the next morning, Tav proposes he go down to the shops and look for a sleep aid, or something that could potentially help quell the overwhelming sense of anticipation building within him.

“I only wish for you to be at peace,” she suggests. “You deserve it. Especially now.”

So, he does exactly that.

Perusing the various carts and shops, Astarion inevitably finds an apothecary. He's been to this one before; many, many years ago. He doesn't quite remember the shopkeeper, but feels as if it's the same woman, just now older.

She's nice enough, giving a warm greeting as he enters the store. The smell of patchouli incense fills his nostrils and almost instantaneously Astarion feels some of the tension melt off his shoulders.

He explains, in very vague terms, what it is he's experiencing to the shopkeeper. She holds out a glass jar filled with herbs. When he raises a questioning eyebrow, she clarifies, “This is known to help calm even the most fussy of ogres.” She smiles, nudging the jar closer to him. “Go on, take it. You won't regret it.”

With a quick nod of his head, Astarion pays for the herbs and dips out of the shop, stashing the small jar within a pocket of his armor. He reconvenes with Tav and the others; they're to address some sort of problem with a wizard prodigy at Sorcerous Sundries. He sighs audibly as Gale rambles on about the various tomes and wealths of knowledge the store holds. Gale rarely ever lets up when this sort of mood takes him. He briefly wishes he had a scroll of Silence to cast over the wizard.

With the pompous brat slain, the crew returns to the Elfsong Tavern to share a hot meal. Astarion nurses a glass of wine while the others share various plates of grilled meats, vegetables, and fish. Lae’zel offers him the drippings of her steak; he politely declines, though the smell causes his stomach to rumble. He simply chases the sensation away with more wine.

They return to their shared suite within the tavern. The party makes a joint decision that Astarion and Tav share the private room. They aren't the only two having relations, but they are the more… rambunctious couple. Both retire to the bedroom, Tav drawing a bath for herself while Astarion rests on the edge of the bed, as he is now, studying the small glass jar.

He dares a quick whiff of the herbs, bringing the jar to his face. His face screws up tight, wincing at the offensive odor. “Smells like a godsdamned skunk,” he scoffs. He stares into the jar again.

Fool’s Tongue.

He’s partaken before at the behest of a client. It was an important brokerage between Cazador and some far-off noble. There wasn’t much choice in the matter for Astarion. But yet, this encounter was a touch better than the others. To this day, Astarion is unsure if it was due to the drug or the man himself. He recalls the comforting embrace of the nobleman with slight fondness. At least the man tried. Not many others did.

Astarion reaches into the small satchel on his hip and pulls out a wooden pipe. He lifted it from Halsin earlier in the evening at dinner. The wood elf becomes soft once drink is involved, making him all the more easy to target. He’ll return it by morning, Astarion promises himself. He may even leave the druid a small token of appreciation for letting him borrow it, should this all work out.

Placing the pipe down onto the comforter, Astarion begins to unlatch his cloak. He lays the jar of herbs down next to the pipe and stands, letting his cape fall to the floor. He works on his armor next, until he’s down to his underthings. Bending down, he begins rummaging through his pack on the floor for his camp clothing. He slips them on, leaving his shirt untucked, and sits back down on the bed.

Astarion picks up the pipe and lays it between pressed-together thighs. It acts as a makeshift support, allowing him to open the glass jar of herbs and retrieve a single nugget. Closing the jar, he places it back down onto the bed, and begins breaking the herbs into smaller pieces to fill Halsin's pipe.

Raising the pipe to his lips, Astarion summons a small flame to the tip of his finger. He stares down the length of the pipe, mustering the resolve to continue. He hears Tav’s voice in his head, as well as that of the old shopkeeper. With a sigh, he brings his finger to the herb, pulling gently on the pipe until it begins to burn.

Smoke fills his lungs a bit too quickly, and he rips the pipe from his mouth. He coughs loudly and a bit dramatically, before finally taking a gasping breath in.

“Astarion!” Tav calls from the washroom. He can hear the sound of water sloshing around in a tub. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, darling!” he calls back. “Not to worry,” he adds in a mumble under his breath, mostly to himself. He surveys the contents of the pipe, bringing the mouthpiece to his lips once more. Again he summons a small flame to the herb, inhaling more shallowly this time as to not scorch the back of his throat.

He holds in the hit, leaning back onto the bed. Outstretching his arms he lets the pipe rest gently on the bed as he blows out the smoke. He coughs softly – better than the first time.

A few moments pass without so much as a sound. Astarion begins to wonder if perhaps the herbs are stale. It isn't until he rolls over that he notices the first sign.

The bed is soft. Inviting. Astarion is acutely aware of how the pillow top envelopes his form. He lays flat on his back again, sighing. His eyes slip closed. An unusual warmth rushes over him, tickling his skin. It feels like he's laying in the sun and suddenly he's transported back to the forest. To the morning after.

He remembers waking up to the morning sunlight bathing his skin. He wakes up slowly, slipping back into his leathers. Tav still sleeps; he moves as swiftly as possible to not wake her. She was beautiful, even then. Naive, yes. He didn't have the best of intentions. But, she was beautiful. And infuriatingly pragmatic.

Another sensation begins to light. Astarion doesn't recognize the feeling right away. He opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling, a surge of heat rushing to his face. He swears his chest thumps with the beating of his undead heart. He stares into the lines of the ceiling, tracing the patterns of wood lining the wall. His eyes fall upon a knot; they slip closed again.

Tav straddles his lap while he lays out on the ground. Astarion’s hands hold her thighs, guiding her hips as she rocks back and forth over him. He travels up the expanse of her abdomen, passing over her navel and up to her swaying breasts. Her hair cascades down her shoulders in loose curls, his gaze continuing upward toward her face. Redded by the blush running across the bridge of her nose, her mouth hangs open in a silent gasp. She meets his gaze through heavy lids.

Astarion feels the flitter of a dormant ember ignite within his lower belly. His back arches off the bed as a gasp slips past his lips. This can’t be what he thinks it is… could it? No, certainly not. He’s surely lost the ability to feel this way without necessity. Without a performance. Without it being a bargaining chip of some kind.

A pulling behind his navel has his hips twitching in response and he feels warmth begin to pool between his legs. Gods, is he…

Aroused?

Is this truly unprovoked arousal that he feels? Astarion sees visions of Tav glistening after a bath; droplets of water sliding down tanned, freckled skin. He moans aloud and again his hips buck. His cock is beginning to stir, each rub against the confines of his leathers having him sliding his hands closer and closer to their waistband. He turns his head toward the direction of the washroom.

Astarion groans as his hand runs over the bulge in his pants and it dawns on him momentarily that it is, indeed his cock hardening at the thought of Tav naked. Her skin flushed from the warm water of the bath, hair wet, nipples pert, hips, thighs, cunt-

He's pulling his pants down quicker than he can manage, letting them pool around his ankles on the floor. He hisses as his fingertips brush the swollen length of his arousal, and he dares a quick glance between his legs. His cock has a reddish hue, similar to after he sups of Tav. It pulsates against his lower abdomen and he cautiously wraps a hand around his shaft.

It's not often he performs acts of pleasure upon himself. Usually his mind cages him off – scolds and berates him until he's too ashamed to continue. But with the influence of the Fool’s Tongue swimming within his consciousness, the voice is silent. The only thing Astarion feels is pleasure. Lust. Want. And openly; he openly wants to pleasure himself. And by the Gods, does it feel good.

He pulls up his shirt with the opposite hand to expose more of his abdomen and takes a few experimental jerks of his length. They're soft and slow; unhurried movements as he bathes in the pleasure rushing over his body. His eyes slip closed as he gives himself over to the sensation, hips bucking up each time his thumb passes his frenulum. Behind his closed lids he sees Tav again, kneeling between his legs, ready to take him within her inviting mouth. He moans wantonly as he focuses for a moment on his tip, trying to replicate the feeling of her suckling the head of him.

The door to the washroom opens, jolting Astarion from his thoughts. He makes no effort to cover himself, but instead waits patiently on the bed for Tav to discover the scene awaiting her. She exits the bathroom, running a towel through her hair, seemingly unaware of what has been occurring during her absence.

“I was thinking maybe we could mingle a bit with the others before calling it a night,” Tav suggests. She stands before the room's mirror, running a hand through her dampened locks. “How does that sound, Astar-” The rest of her sentence dies back in her throat as she observes him laying on the bed. “Oh,” is all she manages; a soft, strangled sound rising up from her chest.

He pants as he looks her over; she's wearing a simple, short beige dress. No brassiere, so her breasts fill the top of the dress naturally. It cinches at the waist with two drawstrings, while the rest flares out. The hem of the dress comes to right above her mid thighs, and Astarion swallows the sudden uptake in saliva pooling within his mouth. His cock twitches in his palm. “Y-you suggested I go to the shops,” he tries to explain. “Find something to help ease my trepidation.”

“I guess it was a success.” Tav replies, stepping closer. “I don't think I've ever seen you like this.”

Astarion catches a true blush rising to her cheeks as she studies him. As she stands before him, the scent of her arousal dances below his nose, and he groans. “It was, very,” he answers. “That d-dress is… nice,” he adds.

Tav smiles, stepping before him. “Is it?” she asks in a sultry tone. She grabs the hem of the dress and begins slowly pulling it up her thighs. “What about it do you like?”

Visions of her riding his lap flood his mind's eye. Astarion tosses his head back as he envisions taking her from behind, against the wall, on the floor – animalistic mating rituals between them both; rough, hard, fast. He can't help but suck in a sharp breath as he opens his eyes again to meet Tav’s gaze. He tries to answer her but no sound comes out.

With a smirk, she climbs onto the bed over him, hovering just above his cock. “What about the dress do you like, Astarion?” Tav reiterates. She's sure to leave her hips as far away from his hand as possible; she's aware of his intimacy issues, how delicate this situation is. She leans over him to place chaste kisses over his forehead. She smiles against his skin as he resumes tugging at himself with soft jerks of his hand.

“The convenience,” Astarion replies in a whisper. His desire is mounting, threatening to burn out of control unless release finds him soon. Tav laughs, and briefly drops her hips over the hand pumping his cock. They both moan as his knuckles brush between her slick, sending Astarion's mind reeling. “You're… you're n-not wearing-”

Tav nips gently at the pale elf’s ears, reveling in the instinctive bucking of his hips into her core. “No, I'm not,” she teases. She feels Astarion shudder beneath her and she licks the shell of his ear, moving quickly down to kiss the underside of his jaw. Tav brushes her center over his fingers again, this time deliberately passing over the tip of him.

He swallows thickly as a gasp escapes his parted lips. As hot as the thought of Tav riding his cock makes him, the shackles of his subconscious are threatening to yank his chain. “I can't, not all the way,” he pleads. Ghastly hands are threatening to enclose around the column of his throat. “Just this, please.”

Tav pulls away from him momentarily, her brow knit in concern. She studies his eyes – ruby red gems hooded over in lust. She nods, placing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Just this, then,” she says reassuringly.

Astarion sighs in relief and continues stroking himself in earnest, knuckles brushing now and again against her sex. He groans as her arousal mingles with his, slickening the palm of his hand to create a luscious glide. “Gods, how I wish I could,” he groans out.

“Could what?” Tav teases. Her breasts are pushing against his chest as it heaves with labored breath. She returns attention back to his ears, licking along its shell to nip gently at the tip.

Astarion's eyes roll to the back of his head as his body convulses in pleasure. “T-take you,” he admits through a shuddered breath. He twists his hand over the head of his cock in a specific rhythm, pulling a guttural groan from the back of his throat. “I think about it often.”

“Do you?” Tav raises a hand to cup the back of his head. She leans over, bringing her mouth close to his ear. “So do I,” she whispers. “It's not fair, you know. Having experienced you prior. Only to be cut off and denied any more.”

“You're one to talk,” he replies. He stares up at Tav, his mouth hanging agape. “D-do you think it's any easier for me? To want so carnally, only to have to deny myself?” He slides a hand up her thigh to hold her waist, guiding her down onto his core. They both sigh at the sensation as he takes the same hand and now threads it through her hair, pushing their foreheads together. “To see how the others look at you, knowing I cannot yet claim you for myself. It's… maddening,” he breathes against her lips.

Tav sighs. “Yet, here I am… in your lap. And not theirs.” She captures his lips in a chaste kiss, though Astarion surges forward. She slackens her jaw to allow him better access; like a man starved he explores the warm cavern of her mouth, tongue intertwining with hers.

He breaks the kiss with a pull of her bottom lip. “I promise that one day I will,” he speaks against her lips. Astarion pumps himself faster, feeling the coil behind his navel wind tighter. “And when I do, you’re not to leave my bed for days.”

Tav pulls her head back, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Days?” she reiterates, feigning innocence. “Do you wish to mate me, Astarion?”

His back suddenly arches off the bed, a gasp slipping past his lips. His knuckles brush against her sex again. “Yes,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Fully, properly, lavishly.” He's babbling now. Logic escaping him, replaced by a tempting carpet of depraved carnal lust that threatens to unravel at the seams.

Tav kisses him gently again. “Should I tell you a little secret?” she asks. She doesn't wait for a response before continuing. Sliding her face again to Astarion’s ear, she says quietly, “What if I were to tell you that you already have me?”

He blinks up at her in bewilderment. “H-how would that be?” he stammers. “I've barely done anything. I can hardly touch you without-”

“Because it's you,” Tav explains. “It's you I think of when I'm alone.” She shakes her head. “No one else.”

Astarion rushes forward again, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss. “...The Gods truly made you just to ruin me,” he says, pulling away with a huff. He closes his eyes as he twists his wrist over the swollen tip of his length again, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

“Are you close?” She speaks softly to him, rubbing the pad of her thumb over his cheek. “Would telling you how good you are to me help?”

The coil winds tighter in his lower belly at her praise. He hums, cock twitching in his palm, pre-fluid now gathering at his tip. “A-almost,” Astarion stammers again. “M-my ears, touch them again, please.”

With a giggle, Tav dips her head into the crook of his neck, kissing along his skin leading up to his ear. She rubs at his other with her opposite hand, lavishing delicate attention to each of their tips. “Have I ever told you how handsome you are when you reach your peak, Astarion?” she pants into his ear. “The way your mouth hangs open in a silent gasp, how your eyes roll to the back of your head.” She watches him throw his head back, his hand picking up speed as he strokes himself. Tav dips her head again to his neck, nipping gently at the exposed column of skin.

“I'm going… if you keep, a-ah,” Astarion insists, breathing ragged. His chest is heaving, the influence of the Fool’s Tongue and overwhelming lust threatening to consume him. He's on the edge, right at the precipice, almost there, just a touch more-

Tav drops her hips over him again and he seizes, hips bucking wilding up to meet her. She latches onto his neck and sucks, hard enough that he knows a mark will be present by morning. Suddenly Astarion is falling over the cliff, mouth dropping open in a drawn out groan. His vision blanks, thick ropes of his release paint his lower belly as he jerks himself through the last of his orgasm.

She kisses the tip of his nose as she climbs off, picking her towel up from off the floor. Astarion lay on the bed panting, the room still spinning around him. As he comes to, he opens his eyes to meet Tav, who holds out the towel to him. “Did that feel good?” she asks, curiously.

He nods before replying, “Quite. I've used Fool’s Tongue before, but it was nothing like this.”

“Hmm,” she hums as he takes the towel from her. “Perhaps I should join you, next time?”

He huffs a quick laugh as he wipes the release of his belly, giving Tav a genuine smile. “That would certainly be something.”

#astarion #fanfiction #bg3 astarion #astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x fem!tav #my writing #astarion fanfiction #i lied I posted it now

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keeksandgigz · 11 months ago

Text

the witch hunt

eddie munson x witch!reader

part 2 of "the love witch"

Summary: You've been good about keeping your magic a secret from Eddie, much to your dismay, so diligent on hiding your true self. What happens when you leave your potion cabinet unattended, he drinks one of your concoctions and turns himself into stone, leaving you to turn him back, right in front of his eyes?

CW: 5k words, no y/n, reader's nickname is 'witchy' , talk of the occult, wiccan practices, description of r's clothing, but no body description, eddie turns to stone, angsty angst angst but with a happy ending, witchy casts some serious spells in this one, mentions of witchy being depressed, eddie being a lovesick fool

thank u to my lovely @reidsbtch for beta reading I love u I love u I love u

Read part 1 here, Witchyverse masterpost here

feedback is always appreciated!

You've been good. You've been diligent. You've been following the rules of the coven.

To not share the gift with anyone, a secret kept under oath, hand over the binding of an old spell book, its surface course and rough, centuries of hands- young, old, powerful and weak, all part of the history of how that book came to be.

When you started dating Eddie, you were summoned, warned by your coven to keep the magic away from your human boyfriend, hidden under a veil of thin shame disguised as indifference.

And six months went by, then a year. You thought you were safe, you thought you'd gotten through the worst part of keeping the secret.

You deluded yourself. He loves you so much, there's no reason he would leave you, not even for a secret as big as yours. You've put protection spells around everything that involved actual magic in your house, the potion cabinet you kept in the hallways as decoration, the spell books hidden under a floorboard in your room.

Although he could not feel it, your apartment pulsated with raw magical energy in its purest form. You really thought you were safe.

A rainy November afternoon, you're tasked to bring some ingredients you've had stashed at your apartment to your aunt Hilda's house, a delivery from Janice- ingredients from Bulgaria, after your shift.

What surprises you about your aunt Hilda is that despite being a witch, she does not go unnoticed- living in one of the Painted Ladies house in the heart of San Francisco, all by herself and her cat, Arsenio.

She always invites you in for tea and a reading, so you step into her house, smelling of antique parchment, tea leaves and a mystical smell of pungent resin and wood, much different from your incense and dried flowers smell.

"I need to invite Janice over one of these days" she says in her veiled voice, pouring you a cup of jasmine tea.

"I don't know if she's going to be able to get out of Haight Ashbury, Aunt Hilda. She's like two- hundred years old or something" you laugh, rummaging through your bag for the delivery you visited your aunt for, placing the jars on the table.

She gasps in delight "You can't get those plants anywhere else, she must have paid a fortune for that blood from a vampire's fangs" she squeals, running to her cabinet to find a home for her new deliveries.

"How's your human, dear?" she asks from the kitchen, followed by clattering of glass and metal.

"Oh, Eddie's fine, he should be off work soon, maybe we'll do something after" you shrug, petting her cat, Arsenio, on your lap.

"And his handsome hunk of an uncle?" you roll your eyes at that.

"God, Aunt Hilda, gross" you groan, sinking in your seat.

"Let me know when he's back in town, I need to invite them both over one of these days, it might be nice. Shall we do a reading before I leave?" she sits back down at the small table and takes a sip of her tea, tarot cards in hand.

"Yeah, I'll ask him for his schedule" you finish your tea "Let me do a one card pull, I need to get home"

"You know, dear, you've been awfully nervous lately- so jumpy" She says, as she shuffles the laminated cards for what feels like forever,

"I'm okay, Aunt Hilda, just stressed with work" you lie, exhaling with anticipation as her wrinkled hand holds the deck. Your aunt's readings have always made you nervous.

You'd been jumpy for a while, the thought of Eddie finding out had been making you nervous, but you wouldn't dare to tell your aunt that.

She offers the deck to you, you pick a card and then give it to her. A gasp escapes her upon looking at it.

A panic rises through your body "What? What is it?" you ask, your bag already across your shoulder, holding on to its strap.

"The Tower" she mutters, destruction, unexpected change, awakening.

A shiver runs down your spine, one by one your vertebrae straighten "I just had a really bad feeling, dear. I would check in on your human boy" she places a hand on her temple, heart racing as you bolt out of your seat and leave.

On the train, panic settles in, wondering if Eddie was somehow connected to this.

A call startles you. It's him.

You tremble when nearing the phone to your ear.

"Hey, witchy, I'm at your house- I used the spare key. I just called 'cause I had a question" he says, voice dubious and vague.

"What is it, Ed? I'm on my way home"

"I was just wondering if it's normal that the cabinet in your hallway is open? I had to stop Circe from getting into it a couple times" you hear a meowing in the background, he must be holding her.

"What cabinet?" you feel your chest rise and fall at an incredibly fast pace.

"The one with the wilted flowers on them, it has a bunch of bottles. Are- are these fake potions?" There's an amused lilt in his voice, almost as if he's laughing at you. Fuck. The potion cabinet.

"Eddie don't touch anything, I'm literally here" your alarmed tone freaks him out, but he has no time to say anything as you hang up and enter your apartment building.

You run up the stairs, heart in your throat, as you reach your front door and slam it open. Eddie's head swings violently.

"Hey, witchy, what's wrong?" he stands up from the cabinet, holding Circe on one arm. You're heaving, irregular breaths, as you see he's still standing, alive, and breathing.

You close the door. "You didn't touch anything in there, did you?" you run towards the open cabinet, checking for missing bottles.

"Witchy, honey, I don't get why you're so jumpy about a couple of fake potions, they would actually be really useful for DnD" Eddie chuckles, reaching into the cabinet to grab a bottle, observing it up close. A greyish- blue liquid swirls inside the bottle.

"Eddie! Put it back! It's dangerous!" you exclaim as you reach for the bottle, but he's blocking you.

"Baby, I think you might be getting a little too carried away with this witchy stuff. There's no way you should be reacting like this over some water and dye" he swirls the bottle once again "I'll even drink it, show you it's not actually that dangerous"

A smug smile adorns his lips, as you watch helplessly while he uncorks the small vial and downs its content.

“EDDIE NO” You aren’t even sure what it is, which makes a panic set into your stomach, hoping you could reverse whatever he ingested.

“No, no, no, no, what have you done?” your head encapsulated in your hands, feeling the beady sweat on your hairline, falling to your knees with the realization. You’re going to have to tell him.

“See? Not dangerous, baby. I love you, but you need to do something about this obsession, it’s getting out of hand” he sighs “I’m hungry i’m gonna get some food” but before he can even take a step, the rumbling of stone fills the room.

You grab the empty glass vial and examine its label. Shit. He turned himself to stone.

In a panic, he looks at you.

“Witchy, what’s going on?” his eyes dart from you to his frozen legs, the stone spreading itself upward quickly “Witch-what- is that stone?” He goes still after that.

A statue. His cold, grey eyes staring up at you in a panic.

Tears brimming your eyes at the sudden realization that once you turn him back to normal he’s going to know.

His hands feel cold at the touch as you cling on to your boyfriend’s statued form. Mouth agape, eyebrows pinched in fear, it hurt you to see him like this. You were going to lose it all because of a dumb mistake.

A desperate scream bubbles inside your chest as you hold yourself flush against Eddie’s cold surface, wishing his arms could hug you back, having to come to terms with the fact that this is probably the last time you’ll ever see him in your home. You won’t ever get to hold him again.

Weak and teary- eyed you reach for your phone, wiping under your eyes as you try to stabilize yourself.

“Hello, dear?” aunt Hilda says through the phone.

“Aunt Hilda I made a really terrible mistake” you sob, shoulders shaking with the violence of your hiccups.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” the concern is palpable through her voice.

“I left- left my potion cabinet open and Eddie-” another string of violent sobs follow, rumbled deep in your chest, shaking you to your very core.

“What happened to Eddie?” The question is cautious, though unfortunately you could feel the alarm and sternness in her voice.

“He turned to stone” you sigh, exasperated, letting yourself sink into the sofa.

“Stone? How did a human man turn to stone?” ever the help, your aunt exclaims.

A dramatic exhale you feel like you’ve been holding onto “I left my potion cabinet open and he- and he has a spare key” you sob- all your fault for letting your guard down, all your fault for letting yourself care for him so mindlessly.

“He got into it thinking they were all fake, I tried to- to stop him” a siffle stops you “he was trying to be funny” a string of sobs followed, unable to speak any longer.

“You need to pull yourself together,” Hilda says, amidst your inconsolable sobs “you know how to reverse this” her voice is stern, yet shaky, she feels for you, having to let your love go.

“The mirror” you mumble.

“That’s right, get a mirror- circle of reflection, circle of protection” she reminds you “repeat those words, he’ll be okay, dear” you can tell that she is hurting, breaking the law of your coven, making you face consequences you haven't even thought of.

Would you be losing your power? Would you have to move away from him? In hindsight that would be a blessing, as you doubt he would want to stay, now that your secret is uncovered.

Hilda hangs up the phone as you scramble to get a mirror, and smear salt over his heart. Trying to reverse the spell that might have broken it.

The mirror faces your boyfriend, his features grey and scared- the last time you’ll ever see him in this lifetime.

Circle of reflection, circle of protection

The hand that is not holding the mirror is clutched on tightly to his chest, as you keep repeating the words.

The sound of rubble breaking makes your heart wrench, selfishly wanting him to stay a statue for a little longer, so you won’t have to say goodbye to him just yet, but the stone armor sheds, and his eyes are brown instead of dull and grey, and his arms move, as well as his mouth, closing in itself, breathing as if he’s come to life for the first time.

He rubs his eyes first, drowsy, like waking up from a one- hundred year old slumber. He looks around the room, it’s familiar to him, the smell of incense that was there, and then it wasn’t, blocked by the earthy smell of rubble and earth.

“What happened?” he mumbles, shaking his stiff limbs, kicking the broken suit of stone armor at his feet, your hand still on his heart “Witchy?”

His eyes are blown wide, memories of what had happened an hour before coming to the surface. The same panicked look adorns his face.

“The potion- it wasn’t” he begins, as you move your hand off of his body, much to your heart’s dismay. You shake your head.

“It wasn’t fake. None of them are fake” you mutter, staring at the floor, not even daring to look at him. There’s a quiet tension, an almost awkward silence, charged with pain and heartbreak, as Eddie realizes what you mean by ‘not fake.’

“And you brought me back from whatever I turned into” he breathes.

You just nod, head fixated on the floorboards and the rubble surrounding his feet.

“Does that make you-” he gulps. Can’t even bring himself to say it.

“A witch” you mumble under your breath “a real one,” your gaze falls on his eyes, dilated and sad, as his eyebrows curve up, a line forming on the bridge of his nose.

There’s once again an unsettling quiet between you two, as he tries to wrap his head around the news.

His chest feels hollow, where your hand had been just moments before, an unrecognizable phantom pressing down on his heart, rubbing salt in a gashing wound, hoping it would ameliorate it, only to make it bleed more.

He takes a few steps back, watching his step over the rubble, breaking his silence after what feels like hours.

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” it’s a mere mumble, but the question was clear, hurt, and a little scared, maybe.

“I swore under oath that I would keep it a secret” you purse your lips, taking a step forward. Your heart shatters when he takes a step back.

His chest is stilled, breath caught in his throat, hands at his sides as he scoffs.

“You swore you’d keep it a secret? Is that why you’ve been so jumpy lately? You knew I was bound to find out and you didn’t tell me?” his head is reeling, betrayal cuts through him like a knife as more and more of looking at you twists the dagger in his chest.

“I didn’t want you to find out, Ed. I promised to my coven-”

“Your coven? There’s more of you?” you can’t do anything else but swallow on the knot in your throat, scratching and engorging with every word that comes out of Eddie’s mouth, and nod.

“And you let me drink the potion, God knows what it could have been” he trembles, a shaky breath escapes him.

“I tried to stop you, Eddie!” you reach for him, hanging on the feeble hope he’ll realize that you have never meant to hurt him in the first place.

“And- and what if you spelled me, huh? What if you spelled me to make me fall in love with you? Is my love for you not real?” that hurt you more than anything else he could have said, tears brimming your eyes, escaping from their confinement as they streak down your cheeks.

“I’ve never used my magic on you,” you admit, voice thick with salty tears “my love for you is real, as yours is. I never tampered with your heart, it’s not who I am” bottom lip jutted out and trembling, feeling on the teetering edge of the end.

“I don’t know who you are” a stab to the heart would have hurt less. “You’ve been lying to me for the past year about who you are. No wonder I was so in love with you, you made me fall in love with a person that doesn’t exist, you spelled me!” he’s trembling, you can see it in the way that his fists are balled up– something he does to stabilize himself whenever he’s upset.

And now he’s upset because of you.

“Eddie–” you take a step forward, he takes a step back.

“No. Don’t- don’t come closer.” tears well at the bottom of your lash line, as you watch him turn away, leave and close the door behind him. Words trapped at the bottom of your throat. Words you’ll never get to say again.

You’re not sure how long you stand there, staring at the doorknob, hoping that it might turn, revealing Eddie once again, ready for you to explain everything to him.

But the doorknob doesn’t turn, the door doesn’t open, and Eddie doesn’t come back.

You refuse to sweep the rubble from the last time he was in your apartment, hoping that the smell of him stuck to the cold stone, but there’s nothing left of him in your space.

The thing about love witches is that when the thing most precious to them, their hearts, break, the life force of their power fades.

So within a short span of days, you notice yourself being weakened. Simple spells become a hard feat, as you can barely make things levitate, sitting in the darkness of your room.

Days begin to merge into themselves, as you get yourself to work, then home, then work, then home. A repeating cycle you don’t intend to stop. You leave around the back side of the store, to not let Eddie see you while he’s on his smoke break, blending into the crowded streets of what once seemed like the best place in the world.

Your aunt Hilda doesn’t hear from you, and neither does anyone else. You fall off the face of the earth, hoping that your hours never coincide with Eddie’s.

But you can feel it from next door, the pain and hurt that radiates from the record store. You feel it in the way he speaks to customers, in the way he sighs as he gets off his smoke break.

You hear him ask Janice about you, she tells him that she doesn’t know, that she hasn’t seen you in a while. Respecting your wishes to let him live his life in peace.

But he wasn’t living his life in peace. In fact, Eddie was miserable.

He was miserable in the way that everything reminded him of you, in the way that if he stepped too close to your store (to make sure you were working that day), he’d smell the rose incense you’d light at your house. The one he would smell on your clothes.

The crystals that sat on his windowsill were now tightly packed and shoved away on a far up shelf that he would not be reminded of you. He burned every trace of you, the taste of betrayal bitter in his throat as he sat on his couch every night, always on the left side, because you sat on the right. A place for you was always carved in his mind, whether it was unconscious or intentional.

The smell of your shampoo lingers in the pink bottles in his shower, in the silk pillow you always slept on when you went over to his house. A silk shirt you left on his bed, gingerly placed on his pillow as he lets your smell engulf him. That’s the only way he can sleep.

There’s a fear deeply setting in, that he might just never be able to get over you. Despite the lies and the secrets, he will never be able to not think about you, not when the smell of rose incense or the color pink exist, not when long skirts and crystals and tarot cards and brocade rugs exist. Not when you exist. Not when you keep walking the earth, sadness seeping in every crevice and every crack of his walls.

He knows he can’t go on like this. Not while you roam the same streets he roams, waiting for you to turn around. Look at me, witchy, look at me.

And you’re so sad. He can see it in your eyes, in the way you don’t carry yourself like you used to– shoulders slouched, dressed in black like you’re mourning the loss of your heart. Mourning the loss of your love.

He debates going back to Hawkins for a bit. Going back to live with his uncle– leave this new world behind, just until the air has been purified of you. Until he’s no longer thinking about the witchy girl who haunts his dreams at night. Go work where his friend Steve works at, shitty, dead- end job, just for a bit.

Confine himself to the life of a hermit, just so he can allow you to live in peace.

So he goes back to Hawkins, under the guise of going home for the holidays. He picks up whatever jobs his uncle can’t do anymore because of his age, driving the beat up yellow pick- up truck in and out of town.

“I never thought I’d see the day Munson would come crawling back” he’d hear a couple of people say on the street. He’s never gone unnoticed, but now more so than before– integrated in the San Francisco scene, he did anything but blend in. And he swears he sees you a few times, walking around downtown Hawkins, your hair, your clothes, your bag. Prancing around like your life is back to normal.

Could it have been a spell? Did you spell him to not make him forget about you?

But he knows it isn’t like you. Not malicious, not even as a witch, he assumes.

He keeps himself up at night thinking about you. You’d never use magic on him. With a sound mind, he tells himself that’s true. Your love for him is real. Is his love for you real? Shivering in the freezing temperature of his uncle’s trailer he’d ponder whether what you had was real or not.

Real.

He drives himself crazy, the thought of you plaguing his mind.

Even his uncle grows worried, the purple bags under his nephew’s eyes, all the books on witchcraft Eddie could find at the Hawkins local library sitting on his desk. Staying up to read on anything and everything that could help him.

And when that doesn’t work he goes on his uncle’s shitty wifi he never uses to research anything about witches, about magic, about you.

You don’t sense him anymore. Not through the walls, not in his sardonic laugh. It’s like he’d vanished into thin air.

You find yourself stepping into the record store after a shift, asking his shitty coworkers what happened to Eddie.

And you’re so weak. So tired, it is even a feat to be able to make it through one full shift standing up, finding a stool to sit on. You’ve paled, eyes dark and lifeless.

“He’s gone back home for the holidays” one of the assholes who made fun of you says “left you stranded here all by yourself? Or did he kick you to the curb?” he smirks, and the other idiot laughs. You make a mental note to hex them for good next time.

If you don’t die first.

Eddie comes back to San Francisco after the holidays, and it’s like he’s never left.

Union Square has taken off the tree and the ice skating rink– he wanted to take you there. He thought you’d be good at ice skating. You’re good at everything. Or maybe it’s because you’re magic.

The restaurant you went to on your first date has closed down. There’s a smile creeping on his face as he remembers you laughing because he couldn’t eat with chopsticks. He misses hearing you laugh. He misses seeing you smile.

The tiny twinkle, the stars in your eyes. The way he’d braid your hair at night. Petting Circe, nestled in between you two in your bed.

He sees you for the first time since he’s been back on the porch of your shop. His heart shrinks at the sight of you. Eyes sunken in, buried in layers and layers of woolen fabric, staring blankly at the street in front of you.

The thing about love witches is that when the thing most precious to them, their hearts, break, the life force of their power fades.

He remembers reading that in an old looking book during the holidays. He wrote it down in his notebook.

A love witch. Thrives on being loved and being in love.

Her heart is only safe when her love is true and unfettered.

He sees it now.

He shows up to your house after talking himself into it for a week, with the excuse of returning a shirt. The same silk shirt he’d been sleeping on top of since he left you. He had it washed for you. It doesn’t smell like you anymore.

He knocks. Is it him or are his hands always that sweaty? Is his heart beating at a normal pace? Is his hair okay? And his breath? Oh shit, he has a zit on his chin.

“Go away Aunt Hilda!” he hears you say, grumpy and grouchy. The veiled sadness in your voice creates a rift between him and the door.

So he knocks. Again. And Again.

“Aunt Hilda I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, I don’t want– Eddie” A breath gets trapped in your diaphragm, feeling your heart start picking up its pace for the first time in what felt like weeks.

“Hi” he gives you a tight smile, the silk balled up in a fist, purple with little black swirls on it.

“Hi, um, I– what are you doing here? Do you wanna come in?” you slither like a worm, that’s how you feel. The boy you’ve been pining and crying and suffering for is here. Right in front of you.

You look so much more frail than he’d remembered “I uh–” he holds up the fabric “you left this at my house”

“Oh, thanks. That’s sweet of you” Your heart drops, you really thought he was going to make amends with you?

You extend your arm, so he can give the shirt to you. So he can be on his way and be gone forever.

Hands, fingers, knuckles. He misses holding your hand.

“I heard you went home for the holidays, how was that?” you lean on the doorframe, hands crossed on your chest.

“It was good, I just spent it with my uncle. He told me to tell you happy new year, uh— even though we’re not—” he shouldn’t have said the last part, he sees you sink into yourself, gazing down at the hardwood floor. His stomach twists.

“What did you do for the holidays?” he asks. He doesn’t want it to be over, not yet.

“I just stayed in, I’ve been pretty sick lately, flu season in full swing. I’ve just been—”

“Your heart’s broken, isn’t it? That’s why you’ve been so sick?” your heart drops. How does he know all this?

He reads your puzzled expression “I um— did some research. That’s what I did most of my holidays. I just wanted to understand. I know you didn’t spell me, or whatever. You’re a love witch” he takes out a piece of paper, highlighted is a sentence, in light pink.

Her heart is only safe when her love is true and unfettered.

Your head is reeling, he hasn’t stopped thinking about you. He spent his holidays researching you, your kind. He knows you didn’t lie to him.

Tears begin to spill onto the old parchment, the tears you haven’t shed in the past two months resurfacing, as you violently jerk and sob in front of him. You missed him.

Eddie quickly steps into your apartment and closes the door, enveloping you in a hug. And it feels good for your heart, a soothing balm for all the cracks and wounds it’s suffered.

“It’s okay, witchy, you can let it out” he says, as you continue to sob on his shoulder. Soft shushing sounds as he caresses your hair “Shhh…shhh… I’ve got you” and it’s like he’s never left.

“I’m here now, I’m not leaving” his assurance makes your body feel whole again. He sits you both down on the couch.

“Witchy, I didn’t stop thinking about you for a second. I would see you everywhere, I thought I was going crazy” he begins, and maybe he sees a twinkle in your eye, something weak, almost like a heartbeat being revived.

“I thought going to Hawkins, just to distance myself would change things. But I’d keep myself awake thinking about you, all the time, wondering if you were doing okay.” His hand brushes yours, as you wipe your tears with the sleeve of your sweater.

“I would see you at work, or out and about and you looked so sad. And I just couldn’t explain to myself what happened to you, until I came across that book” he finishes.

And in turn, you don’t say anything, you just kiss him. It’s wet and messy with the tears and the saliva, but he immediately kisses you back, cradling your face in his hand. Your heart beats faster than it has in a while, and it’s like magically, your skin has a bit more color to it.

And Eddie sees the stars in your eyes again.

When you detach you just lay your head on his chest. You listen for his heartbeat, lulling you into a deep sleep, the best sleep you’ve had in two months. He follows you not soon after, Circe on his lap, as he falls into slumber with a peaceful smile on his face.

Once awoken from your sleep, you go make a cup of tea for the both of you.

“Witchy?” your head lifts at the nickname as you pour him his tea.

“So, are you a witch, a mage or a sorceress?”

You just roll your eyes and kiss him again.

a word about my taglist- if you ask to be put on it, and went through the trouble of filling out the form, all i ask in return is that you interact with my stuff in a meaningful way. plain likes really don't get you anywhere on here, and i am asking you in the nicest possible way. tysm <3 taglist form here

taglist: @onegirlmanytales, @sunnythevampireslayer, @cryingglightningg, @yunirgo, @reidsbtch, @neville-is-my-husband, @minorlystuck13, @keikoraven, @capricornrisingsstuff, @lavendermunson, @mandyjo8719, @str4ngergirlw0rld, @xxhellfirebunnyxx, @hellfirenacht, @seexyyprincess, @goosterroose, @euphoric-rush, @everheart12, @witchwolflea @corrodedcoffincumslut, @aaasbrutus, @stqrgirl3 @starrthemushroom, @lemme-slytherin-that-dick, @fictionalsimping, @tpwkkami11, @1paire2vans @xquinn-bartonx, @bimbobaggins69, @aphrogeneias, @jamdoughnutmagician, @reysorigins, @strangereads, @strangerstilinski, @upsidedownbunnyy, @eddiesxangel, @hideoutside, @ali-r3n,

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x witchy!reader #modern!eddie x witchy!reader #modern!eddie munson #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #eddie munson au #eddie munson angst

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girlkisser13 · 6 months ago

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dionysus cabin headcanons

children of dionysus

• HUGE theater kids.

• being highly emotional, wine children make great actors.

• they throw the best parties.

• they have extra beds in their cabin for people who pass out and can't handle their liquor.

• when one of them is upset, others around them get upset too, due to dionysus having influence on the mind.

• they hate the indoors and prefer open spaces.

• even when sober, they can't pass a breathalyzer test because they naturally have the scent of wine on them.

• they are all great cooks and know which wine to pair with each meal.

• they are all very good at directions and are rarely lost (a blessing from their stepmother).

• gender fluidity is common with dionysus kids.

• they all have thick, curly hair and strange color eyes.

• they are prone to depression and anger and are often bipolar.

• daughters of dionysus are rare so they are as powerful as big three kids (canon in the myths).

• they are harder to charmspeak due to their connection with the states of mind.

• arguments last for months because anger runs in their blood and the wine influence makes it worse.

• when they’re sad, they can make vines wilt by just looking at them.

• on very rare occasions, wine children can be born with the ability to affect another's mental state temporarily.

• this ability makes them feared by many, because they can cause hysteria and hallucinations, but they are also sought out by some suffering from depression or anxiety to help relax them.

• they get really thirsty really easily. they always have a bottle of water on hand.

• they are able to recognize all kinds of alcohol with just a sniff, but they all hate wine-tasting.

• they can automatically tell if a beverage has been tampered with, laced with something unwanted or if the ingredients used to make said alcohol are not safe for consumption.

cabin exterior

• the cabin is draped in grapevines and ivy, with the plants growing in a seemingly chaotic yet aesthetically pleasing manner.

• the exterior features vibrant and rich colors like deep purples, greens, and golds. they are reminiscent of a vineyard in full bloom.

• their cabin has a rustic, almost ancient greek villa vibe, with wooden beams, stone walls, and terracotta roof tiles.

• strings of fairy lights, lanterns, and other festive decorations hang around the cabin, creating a lively, celebratory atmosphere even when there's no party.

• comfortable outdoor furniture like hammocks, cushioned chairs, and wooden benches are scattered around for lounging and socializing.

• the doors in their cabin occasionally change colors and vines tend to move on their own.

cabin interior

• their cabin is almost entirely purple on the inside, which makes everything a little bit dark and dramatic. it's also usually very cool and damp inside- the perfect climate for storing wine.

• plush, comfortable furniture in rich fabrics and colors create a cozy yet opulent atmosphere. think velvet couches, silk cushions, and ornate rugs.

• they have a central bar area with stools and a variety of non-alcoholic drinks (and a secret stash of wine). nearby, they have a lounge area with low tables, bean bags, and cozy chairs for socializing and relaxing.

• soft, warm lighting from chandeliers, lanterns, and fairy lights create a magical, inviting ambiance. there are also be candles and fireflies in glass jars scattered around.

• the interior also features plenty of natural elements, like potted plants, hanging vines, and flowers. some walls might even have living plants growing on them.

• decorations include garlands, streamers, and masks hanging from the walls and the ceiling, giving the cabin a perpetual party vibe.

• the walls are adorned with art pieces, ranging from classical paintings to more whimsical, modern interpretations of dionysian myths. sculptures of satyrs, nymphs, and other mythological creatures are scattered around the cabin.

cabin traditions

• when a child of dionysus falls in love, it's a cabin tradition that they give their partner a hideous leopard print shirt.

• they put on regular plays, improv sessions, or storytelling nights, often featuring greek and roman myths and tales related to their father.

• new wine children undergo a playful initiation rite, involving a series of fun challenges and games, ending with a toast (with grape juice) welcoming them into the cabin.

• inspired by traditional wine-making, they hold an annual grape-crushing competition, with teams competing to crush the most grapes by stomping on them, followed by a big party to celebrate.

divider by @plutism

#percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #pjo #hoo #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #hoo fandom #pjo series #hoo series #pjo tv show #pjo disney+#pjo cabins #dionysus #bacchus #dionysus cabin #cabin twelve #cabin 12 #children of dionysus

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juniper-sunny · 1 month ago

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The Art in the Heart* - Chapter 7

An unexpected detour brings new people into your life, along with a different side to Silco that you've never seen before...

Happy Ending AU | Silco x Reader | Young!Silco | F!Reader | No [Y/N] | Slow Burn | Romance | Eventual Smut | Fluff | Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Fix-It || TW: Alcohol | SFW | WC: 3.6

beta reader: @silcoitus <3

ao3 || Masterlist || Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

───────────────── ●◉◎◈◎◉● ─────────────────

“This is The Last Drop?” you ask, surprised. You wonder if that’s why the pub is so cozy; if the Children are always on the lookout for new members, then it’s in their own self-interest to make their home turf an attractive place to visit.

“Sure is,” the bartender says with a proud grin. “All proceeds go towards helping the good Children of the Lanes.”

You raise your eyebrows, impressed by the mercenaries’ ingenuity. Good alcohol is always in demand in the Undercity, so the Children are sure to never run out of money. “That’s pretty smart.”

“You should buy a drink if you’re on our side,” he says cheerfully. His unserious manner tells you that he won’t mind if you don’t, though. “You sure I can’t get you anything?”

“I would if I could,” you say regretfully. “Do you have a tip jar?”

“A woman after my own heart,” he says warmly. He grabs a beer mug, thumping it down enthusiastically on the counter in front of you.

You finally locate your money bag and pull out a handful of golden coins, dropping them into the mug. The man’s eyes widen in delight as the money clinks and rattles against the glass.

“Cheers, sweetheart,” he says gratefully.

After stashing the mug away under the counter, he puts his fingers to his mouth and whistles sharply. The sudden and loud noise makes you jump. He waves at someone behind you, gesturing for them to come over.

“I’ll drink next time,” you promise the barman. “This place is really nice… my friend made it sound like a war room.”

“Oh? Who’s this friend of yours?” he asks. He glances away from you, waving more insistently.

“Silco.”

The bartender’s cheer turns to curiosity as he leans on the bar, squinting at you. Self-conscious, you stand a little straighter under his scrutiny, scooting over to make room for the tall woman who takes a seat next to you.

“You got my drink?” she asks you, bored.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, here—” you move one of the glasses closer to her.

She takes it with a nod of thanks.

“What do you want, Vander? I still have the meet today,” she says, annoyed.

“Think he’ll still want to do business with you after you smashed his friend’s face in?” Vander laughs.

Sevika rolls her eyes. “He deserved it.”

“Just as well. This lady here is going to be much better company,” the barman nods at you. “I’m Vander, and this lovely lady is Sevika.” He jerks a thumb at the woman. She ignores you, sipping from her drink.

You introduce yourself. Vander nudges Sevika with his elbow, which earns him a steely glare from the woman.

“Don’t be like that, Sev; she’s a friend of Silco’s. Any friend of his, is a friend of ours,” he says sincerely.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say with a smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you both.” Silco had described his brother-in-arms as a big man with a big heart. As first impressions go, he certainly fits that description. As for Sevika, Silco praised her toughness and loyalty, a woman with a surprisingly kind heart hidden underneath a thorny exterior.

She seems more interested in nursing her drink than making small talk, so you hold your hand out to Vander. But his attention is caught by someone walking behind him; he turns over his shoulder to wink at them.

When he looks back at your extended hand, he takes it and turns it gently, lowering his head to kiss your knuckles. His calloused fingertips slide against your palm.

“Oh—” you stammer, startled.

Just as Vander’s lips are about to make contact with your skin, Silco appears behind him.

“Vander, we’re out of—” Silco says, annoyed.

He does a double-take at the sight of his friend kissing your hand. His mouth drops open, the pub lights reflecting off his chipped teeth.

“Silco! Hi!!” you squeak out, embarrassed. When you yank your hand back, your heart rockets into your throat, a full heated flush steaming your face hot enough to make you want to take off your jacket. The drink in front of you looks tempting for your suddenly parched mouth.

He says your name, incredulous. “What brings you here?”

“I—I was just in the neighborhood,” you lie. The excitement of meeting Silco’s friends almost made you forget about your stalker. Remembering them drives a spike of anxiety through your heart, and you fidget with your sleeves. But you’re not about to tell Silco about that, especially in front of his friends.

And it wasn’t a complete lie, either—you’re just taking a detour before you head home.

Silco narrows his eyes at you. You smile innocently at him, the very picture of honesty.

Vander grabs two more glasses and tops them up, shoving one into his friend’s hands.

“Here’s to our comrades, new and old,” the bartender toasts. He downs his drink in one gulp while Sevika takes another slow, appreciative sip.

Silco doesn’t drink, still staring at you with suspicion.

Flustered, you reflexively drink from your own glass, accidentally taking an extra-large mouthful. The spicy and earthy drink hits you hard, a punch to the face with a fiery, honey-sweet aftertaste. You cough so violently you fumble for a stool, taking a seat next to Sevika.

Silco rushes around the counter. He stands on your other side, rubbing your back in concern. Worried, he asks, “Are you alright?”

The alcohol burns in your mouth, an uncomfortable tingling tracking from the roof of your mouth down your throat. But you try to smile at Silco, coughing out, “It’s good to see you.”

Because it really is. His smile soothes you better than any glass of water could. He takes a seat next to you, his hand lingering on your back. You bump his shoulder playfully with your own.

“So how’d you meet our man here?” Vander asks, grinning as he refills your glass.

“Oh, um…” you glance at Silco. “Saved him from Enforcers.”

Sevika glances at you from the corner of her eye, curious. Vander lets out a bark of a laugh before he asks, “Pretty little thing like you? What’d you do, blow a kiss at them?”

Silco tenses at the compliment. His hand on your back moves up to your shoulder, squeezing you protectively. “Please don’t judge my companions too harshly. I assure you, under most circumstances, they are perfectly capable of behaving themselves.”

“I just dropped paint on them,” you answer with a shrug, ignoring Vander’s remark. This time, you take a little sip of the drink. In smaller quantities, it’s quite tasty. You let it linger on your tongue to better enjoy the fruity notes.

The larger man leans forward, brows furrowed. If you thought he was watching you too closely before, he stares openly at you now. You stare at the liquid in your glass, swirling it to avoid the bartender’s eyes. “You’re the muralist?”

“Uh…” You look at Silco questioningly. “I’m working on a mural right now, yeah.”

“Well, I’d like to thank you if Silco hasn’t already. He forgets his manners sometimes,” Vander says, giving his friend a playful punch in the shoulder. “Couldn’t have gotten our most recent score without your help.”

“I’ll have you know, I’ve thanked her plenty already,” Silco says impatiently, rolling his eyes.

“You might as well be one of us now,” Sevika says to you. For the first time that night, she smiles, a sharp smirk that transforms her face into something gleeful and young. She shares a knowing look with Vander before finally turning to look at you head-on, assessing you properly now. “Saving Silco’s ass is pretty much a rite of passage for the Children.”

“I believe our ledgers are equally balanced in that regard,” Silco scowls. His hand leaves your shoulder to pick up his drink.

Sevika snorts. “Sure you don’t want me taking over the accounting? ‘Cause I keep better track of our numbers than you do.”

“Now, now, kids,” Vander snickers. “No fighting in front of the new recruit.”

“…Wait, what?” you ask, confused. When you turn to look at Silco, he’s frowning but flushed red from embarrassment. He sighs and pinches between his eyebrows, looking down at the counter.

“I had hoped that my friends would know better than to surprise you,” Silco says in an annoyed tone. He looks up, still avoiding your gaze to glare daggers at Vander. “I merely asked them to consider extending a formal invitation to you. I hadn’t realized that the final decision had already been made without my input.”

The bartender pouts in apology, his watery eyes widening in an impression of a Poro. “And here I thought you asked her already.”

“If you got your eye on her, she must be good people,” Sevika pipes up. She raises her drink at you before finishing it off.

“Exactly,” Vander says to you. “Silco likes to leave most of the recruiting to me. You must be something special if you caught his eye.”

You clutch your glass tight. A confusing cocktail of emotions swirl in your chest, not helped by the alcohol: triumph at earning the approval of Silco’s friends, clashing with self-consciousness at being the center of attention.

“I was just in the right place at the right time, that’s all,” you hunch over the counter and mumble.

“I’m so sorry,” Silco says earnestly. He looks at you directly now, eyes wide with distress. “I should have discussed it with you first, I only meant—”

“Silco, it’s okay,” you reassure him. “Can we talk about this later?”

He nods, his knee bouncing rapidly, restless and nervous.

“It was nice meeting you all,” you say, giving Silco an affectionate pat on the arm as you step off the stool. “Have a good night—”

Silco looks crestfallen as his friends break out into a chorus of protests.

“Are you really going home after just one drink?” Vander asks, turning his sickeningly sweet puppy eyes at you.

“Let’s play for it,” Sevika says, whipping a pack of cards out with a flick of her wrist. She shuffles them expertly, dealing the cards swiftly on the counter. “If you win, you get to go home. If I win, you stay and I’ll tell you how Silco fucked up his teeth.”

“That’s—that’s not necessary,” Silco sputters. “Don’t you have a meeting today?”

“He’ll come back if he knows what’s good for him,” Sevika says dismissively. She looks at you expectantly.

You drink again to buy yourself time to think. You have fun hanging out with Silco, his friends seem welcoming enough, the alcohol is tasty… all very persuasive reasons for you to stay.

“Sure,” you tell Sevika cheerfully. “What are we playing?”

Her explanation of the rules is short and straightforward, but you find yourself distracted when Silco scoots his chair closer to yours. When you ask Sevika to please repeat herself, your friend says he’ll help you.

He hooks his chin over your shoulder when you pick up your hand of cards. He’s warm and solid next to you, his breath grazing your cheek. The contact has your heart racing, your heartbeat so loud it almost drowns out his whispered instructions in your ear.

Maybe it’s because of the alcohol, but you find yourself leaning into his constant touches instead of away from them. Indulging in the fantasy that he’s not just being chummy, but that he wants to escalate your friendship into something… more.

You quickly down your drink in one gulp, slamming the glass down too hard on the counter. When Vander asks if you want another, you shake your head vigorously, making yourself dizzy. You tell the bartender that you just need some water. Silco tells you to slow down when you chug the whole thing as fast as you can without choking.

But you want to drown that thought before you can pursue it. Wishing only leads to disappointment, after all. Building an icon for a small faith only for it to be struck by lightning. Leaving behind nothing but ashes in its wake, all your hopes going up in flames and trailing away with the smoke.

Besides, you’re trying to make a good impression on Vander and Sevika. Trying to laugh at their jokes and answer their questions.

Trying to ignore Silco’s long and handsome fingers as he touches your cards.

Trying to focus on the game instead of the tapestry of lines and scars on his skin.

You ask Vander what his favorite drink is, and he points out different bottles on his shelf.

But your eyes are instead drawn to the column of Silco’s throat as he swallows. His tongue tracing the outline of his thin lips after downing shot after shot of vodka.

How he always smirks first before teasing his friends, mischievous and playful. Then he’ll smile bright and joyfully as he chuckles, a low and soft sound compared to Vander’s booming laughter. The trio use pointed words with each other, but they never cut deep enough to hurt.

You’ve stopped drinking for the night since you have to wake up early tomorrow. But you’re still enjoying yourself, bonding with Sevika and Vander over stories of Silco’s youthful antics. Already flushed from drinking so much, Silco turns even redder when Sevika tells you of the misadventure of his broken teeth.

From any other storyteller, it would have been a heroic retelling of his courage and defiance in the face of an indomitable goliath. And yes, teenage Silco was very brave in an encounter with multiple Enforcers. But Vander breaks into uproarious laughter when he talks about his friend dodging their punches expertly only to trip and fall open-mouthed on an Enforcer’s boot.

“I can’t believe you still managed to fight them off,” you tell Silco in awe. “I’m glad you’re still here.”

“Did y’know… I have the fewest arrests compared to these two,” Silco slurs drunkenly. He swings his glass at them in a wild, unsteady arc, his drink spilling out of his cup. Sevika scowls when the alcohol splashes onto her poncho.

“Still the worst of us at holding his liquor, though,” Vander says, chuckling. He throws a towel at his friend’s face. Silco’s head thumps onto the counter as the towel falls into his lap. “Take care of that spill, will you?”

The bartender walks away to help another customer. Sevika shoves herself out of her seat, shoulder-checking Silco as she stalks off to the restroom.

You reach out for the towel, gingerly picking it up before you wipe the counter dry. Silco watches with sleepy, half-lidded eyes as you fold the towel neatly.

“How are you feeling?” you ask him, amused. It’s almost fascinating to observe Silco’s total loss of composure; for someone who lives in a bar, his tolerance for alcohol is lower than you expected. Maybe it’s because he’s skinnier than his friends.

“M’good,” he mumbles into the counter.

“Here.” You slide your glass of water closer to him.

You pat his back, encouraging him to sit up so he can drink. He raises his head slowly, swaying dangerously as he sits up again. When he makes a grab for the glass, he almost knocks it over. You catch it just in time. Some of the water spills out onto your hand.

You take it upon yourself to hold the glass up to Silco’s lips. When he opens his mouth, you tilt the cup carefully, careful not to pour too much too fast. He drinks with small gulps, little by little until your glass is emptied. You can’t help but imagine him as a houseplant, and the image makes you giggle.

“What’sss’funny?” Silco asks as he lowers his head onto the counter again.

“Nothing,” you say quickly. You lay your head down on the bar, folding your arms to use as a cushion. Even when looking at him sideways, his handsomeness is undeniable, his long nose pressed into the counter and his dark hair draped over his sharp cheekbones.

You wonder if he’d let you push his hair out of his eyes.

Silco mumbles something under his breath that you don’t quite catch. Just as you scooch closer to listen, his eyes droop shut. He slumps completely limp, mouth falling slack.

You poke him in the face to wake him up. When he doesn’t respond, you stroke his cheek with the back of your hand, knuckles gently grazing his skin. He’s soft and warm to the touch as you trace the contour of his cheekbone. He babbles something incoherent, his lip twitching upward in the ghost of a smile.

You jerk upright in your seat, glancing around frantically. Sevika hasn’t come back and Vander is still busy with other customers. You’re glad that neither of them were around to see your moment of weakness, but that means they can’t help you with Silco either.

“Silco…” you lean in to murmur into his ear. He responds with a questioning hum. “You live here, right? Where’s your bedroom?”

Something about asking that question makes you blush, and you’re glad his eyes are still closed as he waves towards the far side of the pub, his fingers hanging limp.

You squint past customers and furniture to see a doorway encircled by a curved steel beam. It’s not very far away, but the real challenge is getting Silco to his feet.

“Silco…” you say again patiently. “Please get up.”

“Mmm… why…” he mutters.

“You need sleep, Silco,” you say gently.

“Mm’sleeping righ-now…”

“You can’t sleep here, dummy,” you chuckle.

“Why not…?”

“It’s bad for your neck and back.” You also can’t deny that you’re curious about Silco’s sleeping quarters, but you keep that thought to yourself.

“I’ll go if y’come wi me…” Silco cracks his eye open, a drop of turquoise peeking out at you from under his dark eyelashes.

“Sure,” you say, amused.

Your friend grins. He sways upwards with a wobble and pushes the stool away from the bar. You catch him under his armpit just as he slips off the stool, his weight forcing your knees to bend. He’s heavy like a waterlogged backpack, the strain on your back only slightly lessened when you throw one of his arms around your shoulders. The pair of you almost careen into another bargoer, and you apologize to them through gritted teeth as you steer Silco towards the doorway.

The light from the pub leaks through just enough to illuminate a short flight of wooden steps that lead into a hallway. With some prodding, Silco perks up just enough to slide off your shoulders and onto the wall. He oozes down the stairs one at a time before catching himself on a doorknob on the left. When he pulls the door open and stumbles into a room, you follow him.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, and in the dark you almost miss another flight of stairs. Startled, you yelp as your foot falls through the air and you catch yourself on a handrail.

“Sorry,” Silco’s voice floats to you. You hear a switch clicking, then a muffled flop of him landing on something soft. A lamp turns on, weakly illuminating the room with a warm yellow glow.

It’s a small, cozy kitchen with a long couch and a small armchair, both orange with squishy cushions and colorful square patches of blue, purple, and red. An old wooden door repurposed into a coffee table sits between the couch and armchair. The lamp on the table is small and electric, illuminating Silco’s face as he lays on the couch. A large and brightly polished gramophone sits on top of a red barrel in the far corner. Framed and unframed photos on the walls give the place a homey feel. The shelves above the stove are stocked with clean glass jars, cutlery, and mismatched plateware.

Silco lies on the couch, sleepy eyes blinking at you as he smacks his lips. He turns on his side as he watches you walk over to the sink.

“You good here?” you ask. You grab a jar and fill it with water.

He hums in the affirmative, smiling at you appreciatively when you place the jar on the table close to him.

“You should stay,” he says through a yawn. “’S too late f’you to walk home.”

“Are you sure?” you ask. Normally, you would decline and insist on walking home if it weren’t for your stalker. A shiver crawls up your spine at the prospect of leaving the safe haven of The Last Drop. You imagine them descending on you as you try to dodge them in the Lanes. The cold fear kept at bay by your friends and the alcohol creeps into your veins again, rooting you to the ground.

“Yeah… I’ll take care of you…” he trails off, his eyes falling shut.

You yawn quietly, conscientious of Silco falling asleep again. His hand uncurls next to his face, his body fully relaxing like an unknotted rope. The sound of his deep breathing fills the room, low and peaceful.

Slowly, slowly, you tiptoe over to his feet and unlace his boots. It takes some awkward maneuvering of his legs to finally get them off; you hope he won’t remember you manhandling him in the morning. You place them gently next to the foot of the couch before unlacing your own. Your own boots look so much smaller when you place them right next to his. Then you take off your jacket and drape it over Silco, pulling the collar over his shoulder. Only then do you finally take a seat in the armchair.

“Goodnight, Silco,” you whisper softly, your own eyes drooping shut as you switch off the lamp.

He doesn’t respond. You pull your knees up to your chest and rub your arms for warmth as you drift off, joining him in slumber.

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If you liked this fic, please reblog and/or leave a comment! <3

Chapter 8

#Arcane #Arcane fanfic #Silco #Silco Arcane #Arcane Silco #Silco x Reader #my writing #The Art in the Heart #TAITH #tw alcohol #alcohol tw

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wowcatboys · 1 year ago

Note

Hear me out

Grunge bf kayn with a hyper feminine gf , like his gf loves sanrio and cute stuff 🫢🫢🫢

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

HEARTSTEEL KAYN: ULTRA-CUTE PARTNER HEADCANONS ♡ Gender Neutral ♡ SFW ♡ No TWs ♡ I am so fucking rabid for the idea of this combo...demon bf/ hello kitty reader SUPREMACY

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

KAYN

At first, the pairing confuses people, but those that see you and Kayn together recognize that somehow you just work. You soften Kayn's sharp edges in a way that he only lets those closest to him see, and Kayn helps highlight the fact that even though you look innocent and soft, there's more to you than that.

Both you and Kayn recognize how much work it can be to curate and present an aesthetic. That's part of what helps you two mesh so well, even though on the surface, you're entirely different. There's a mutual respect for the other, stemming from understanding.

Though he keeps them stashed in a bathroom drawer, Kayn's got a matching set of soft bunny-ear headbands for when you sleep over. Usually he just bobby-pins his hair back to wash his face, but when you're there, he'll pull out the cute headbands so you can match during your morning/night-time routine. For the sake of his image, please, please don't ever show anyone your bunny-eared, spa-masked selfies.

Kayn has you saved as 'prince/princess' in his phone. Fitting, since you're the patron saint of all things cute and soft, no?

The guys tease him whenever they catch Kayn with your things around the apartment, like when he's washing your pink Starbucks cups or pulling your cinnamoroll pajama pants out of the dryer. "Changing your look, Kayn?" They'll smirk, but he just rolls his eyes and sneers. "It's (y/n)'s, obviously," he bites. He's not really embarrassed, though—truth be told, he loves the way your life has leaked into his enough for others to notice. Besides, those nerds are probably just jealous that he bagged such a fucking perfect cute pastel angel.

Obviously, Kuromi is Kayn's favorite, if he has to pick one. You won him a little Kuromi figure from a claw machine, once, and he actually keeps it on top of his dresser, in full view for everyone to see. (It's probably the cutest thing he owns, and though he might not admit it, he fucking treasures that little figurine.) He sometimes says he's your Kuromi, though not usually in earshot of others. The similarities are uncanny—a proclivity for black, a tendency for mischief—they even have almost the same birthday!

Whenever you're in his room, Kayn sets his LED strip lights to pink for you.

If Kayn's going to be gone for awhile, touring and the like, he always gifts you a Calico Critters set the night before he leaves. "Try to take good care of them, yeah?" He smirks. "I don't wanna come back to the mouse family in the middle of a custody battle."

Kayn stashes a plushie in his underwear drawer, so you'll always have something to snuggle with when you stay with him (besides him, of course).

The visual contrast when Kayn lets you borrow a hoodie or jacket is nothing short of jarring. Here you are, this adorable thing in Mary Janes and a pastel skirt, sporting a bleach-dyed hoodie with a death metal logo. Kayn, of course, thinks the contrast is fucking adorable.

Kayn gently teases you about your bedroom—"I didn't even know this many pink things existed," he'll say"— but the truth is, he loves being in there with you. The softness makes him feel totally surrounded by you. It's gentle. Safe, even. Drinking from Sanrio glasses and slipping underneath a strawberry-printed comforter to spoon you may not be his usual style, but you make it feel so natural. (Sleeping in your bed, though? Kayn doesn't love that as much. He moves around in his sleep enough as is, but now he's got to worry about accidentally shoving your favorite Hello Kitty off the bed? Not fun.)

Kayn's favorite cutesy thing to buy you is sleepwear. Those pastel, soft-fabric cami and sleep shorts combos? Fucking delicious. There's at least three sets of your pajamas stashed in his PJ drawer, and Kayn bought all of them.

#Kayn #Heartsteel Kayn #Kayn/reader #Kayn x reader #heartsteel x reader #Heartsteel #Kayn headcanons #Heartsteel headcanons #Heartsteel/ reader #this pairing is burrowing into my brain and making a home like parasitic worms #I love

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crackedpumpkin · 2 years ago

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ʙʟᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ || ᴘᴛ. ᴏɴᴇ ||

[ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“If there is a god out there, please make sure my order isn’t missing any pickles this time.”

“Here ya go, extra pickles on the side,” Mr. Perez, the store owner, grunts as he all but flings a wrapped sub into your hands from behind the counter. You grab it with relative ease, undeterred by how oddly soggy the parchment paper is. It’s a slow day in the sub shop, with many of its usual customers absent.

“How much?”

“Five bucks.”

“How’s Didi?” You ask, fishing out a crumpled five-dollar bill in your pocket and handing it to him. You drop another into the tip jar when his back is turned, humming innocently when he faces you with a bag of small cookies.

“The usual. Slightly less of the devil incarnate lately, though. I think it’s because you’re coming over to babysit more often.” You take the cookies gratefully, a small note written in the ten-year-old’s messy scrawl glued to the side. You stash it away in your backpack, ensuring it doesn’t get crushed behind your sketchbook and pencil case.

“Is that y/n?” You hear the clatter of plates being shoved aside, Didi peeking out from behind the blinds that separate the storefront from the stairs that lead upstairs to their house. You smile but realize she won’t be able to see it through your cloth mask.

“In the flesh,” You grin, scooping Didi into a tight hug. You prop her on your hip, transferring the sub to your free hand as she giggles. “Have you made any new friends in school?”

Her lips purse into a pout, fiddling with your hair with sulky eyes. “No…They’re all stinky. Except for Maribelle, because she likes pickles.”

“Does no one else like pickles, then?” You ask curiously, Didi shaking her head.

“Tommy and Jam like them, but they’re boys,” She informs you in complete and utter seriousness. You’re so tempted to comment, but you know that if you did, she’d sulk for at least half an hour.

“Jam?”

“Yeah, Jam.”

“Are you sure that’s his name?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright then,” You shrug, turning your head to the side so she can’t see the amused glint in your eyes.

“Are you headed to the bank?” Mr. Perez asks offhandedly, cleaning one of his bread knives with a damp cloth.

“Gotta cash in the moolah,” You rub your fingers together in reference to the cheque that’s buried somewhere in the bottom of the heavy bag on your shoulders. You had recently finished a commission, and your client had tipped you generously, paying you an extra fifty bucks on top of the two hundred she was already paying.

“Can I come? I wanna come. I’m going,” Didi demands as she braids a few strands of your hair. You look back at Mr. Perez for permission, the gruff man nodding in response.

“Okay, but make sure you always stay with me, yeah?” Didi nods eagerly, kicking your side slightly as she points to the door. You leave the store with her in your arms, making your way to the bank.

“Can we buy Legos?” You hum in thought, trying to decide how to reject Didi’s request without being too harsh. She tugs the beanie on your head, and it slides down to just above your eyes. You chuckle, using the back of your preoccupied sub-carrying hand to shift it back up slightly.

“Do you have enough money to buy some?”

“I got money!” Didi’s small hands search her pockets, patting down until she finds what she’s looking for. She pulls out a ten-dollar bill with a triumphant smile, eyes shining with anticipation as she looks at you.

“Then we’ll buy some on the way back, yeah?” You offer, already seeing the money leave your wallet when you pay for the leftover cost of the Lego set.

“Hmm…Okay!” Didi agrees after a moment of thought, clapping her hands together and urging you to walk faster. You break into a slight jog just to tease her, soon reaching the doors of the large bank.

You push past the huge glass doors with your shoulder, the sub still in your hands. You couldn’t put it in your bag, fearing it’d ruin your cherished sketchbook and, even worse, the crumpled cheque buried somewhere near it.

You eye the long lines for each counter, groaning at the thought of a prolonged wait. You scan the hall, trying to find the shortest queue.

There. You quickly join the line of people waiting, breathing a sigh of relief when you see a few more people join your queue right after you do. The bank is mostly quiet; the only sounds are fingers clacking away on keyboards and hushed conversations of bank account details.

A trio of men wearing black cloth masks stand in a corner, furtively glancing around and having a hushed conversation amongst themselves. Two large bags are on the floor next to the shortest one, all three nodding at each other before the other two pick up the bags and head towards the door while the shortest approaches the information counter with another bag slung on his hip.

Huh. Maybe they have social anxiety.

You watch them converse with the clerk, half your attention on Didi, who’s tugging on your hair while braiding it out of boredom. You spot the clerk smiling nervously in your peripheral, brushing it off as the usual horrible customer service interaction.

You focus on Didi instead, jostling her slightly in your arms. She yelps, lips pursing into a scowl when she’s disturbed from her concentrated braiding. You giggle, entertained by her reaction. You lean in, bumping your head against hers in a gentle tease.

The doors slam shut.

You flinch at the sudden sound, turning to see the two men from earlier at the entrance. Each stands in front of the doors, arms crossed with two large rifles in their hand as they quickly adorn ski masks. The man at the information counter now has a gun in their hands, pointing it up at the ceiling and firing a single shot.

The loud bang startles Didi, who instantly covers her ears, pushing her head against your shoulder with a small squeak. You protectively hold her close to you, ready to shield her body with your own in case anything happens.

“Everyone drop everything, get down on the ground, and lift your hands now!”

You slowly sink to the ground, eyes never leaving the guns in their hands. This situation is the opposite of ideal. Being held hostage isn’t exactly part of your five-year plan for graduation. The doors are guarded by the guards, dark silhouettes blocking the sunlight.

“Hey! I said to drop everything and lift up your hands,” One of the robbers guarding the doors earlier points a gun straight at you with a glare. You look from the weapon to the sub in your hands, reluctant to let go.

“I said, drop it!”

You gingerly set it down with a defeated sigh. “You happy now?” You ask him with a scowl. He steps towards you, still aiming his gun at you as he picks up your sub and throws it to the side. It lands with a plop onto the dirty ground, now a ruined mess.

“Wha- My sub!” You complain with an offended gasp, now glaring at the man who just destroyed your dinner. You see the arch of his brow beneath his thin ski mask, exchanging a confused look with his accomplice.

“You do know this is loaded, right?” He questions with a wave of his gun.

“You just threw away a perfectly fine sub! It even had extra pickles!” You argue, still mourning the loss of your dinner. Setting down your sub you could deal with. But flinging it against the wall? That was absolutely uncalled for. “You’re a maniac,” You seethe, your jaw clenched as you shoot him the coldest glare you can muster.

You hear tiny sniffles and a loud hiccup from beside you, looking down to see Didi’s scrunched nose with snot dripping down it and tears streaming down her red cheeks. Her lips are pressed tightly together, but you know she’s about to start wailing.

“Hey, hey, Didi,” You call out to her gently, ignoring the robber that watches you intently. “Let’s play a game of patty cake, okay?” You offer, holding out your hands. She places her small ones in yours, and you curl your fingers to cover her own.

“I’m scared,” She hiccups, her sniffles growing louder by the minute. You shush her with a reassuring smile, thinking of a way to soothe her.

“Oi! You sure have a death wish, lil’ missy.” You hear the cock of a gun behind you, turning to see it being pointed straight at you. “I already said: hands up where I can see ‘em.”

“Look, do you want to handle a wailing child that’s bound to attract attention? Or do you want me to calm her down so none of us get a headache?”

After a moment of deliberation, he moves his gun down to his side. “I’m watching you,” He warns.

“Yeah, yeah, as if I’d forget.” You huff with a roll of your eyes, crossing your legs and sitting down with Didi in your lap. “Now, where were we?”

You continue playing patty cake with the trembling girl after coaxing her into removing her hands from her ears. The shortest robber, who seems to be the ringleader of the three, is preoccupied with getting the clerk to empty the enormous vault at the back, stuffing bundles of cash into the large duffel bags they had carried with them earlier.

It’s tense.

Everyone chooses to stay silent, their shaky hands and terrified eyes a pleasure to the thugs. You risk a quick glance around, wondering when the hell Spiderman would show up. Isn’t this in his job description? Was he even getting paid?

Someone knocks on the door.

The two crooks guarding the doors turn instantly, pointing their guns at a familiar figure with their hands raised in surrender.

“Yo! I came here to negotiate, not to fight.”

They look to their ringleader for a response, the latter giving them a nod and gesturing to their guns warily. They nod at each other, hoisting their weapons closer to their chest and opening one of the doors.

Before they can react, Spiderman drops to the floor, immediately kicking their guns out of their hands. They land on the floor with a clatter. “You should really think twice before opening the door for strangers,” He chides, nimbly avoiding a harsh blow from the two thugs surrounding him.

That’s a nice suit.

Your eyes automatically follow him as he swings, dodges, and takes out the robbers in mere minutes. He’s nimble, avoiding each blow and disarming the vicious crooks that threaten to fire.

“One step closer, and she’s dead meat!”

Didi’s body is grabbed from your arms, and you look up in horror as the robber that threatened you earlier holds his gun close to the small child. Tears are dribbling down her cheeks uncontrollably, choking on her stifled sniffles.

“Woah, woah, woah,” The masked vigilante halts in his steps, hands raised up, “Threatening a kid? That’s not gonna look good on your record, man.”

“Then put your hands up, walk to the wall, and give up!”

“Wait!” You scramble to your feet, freezing as soon as you do. The robber presses the gun barrel closer to Didi’s shoulder, an ice-cold grip of fear crawling down your spine at the sight.

You can’t let her get hurt. You rack your brains, trying to figure out a good distraction for Spiderman to take action. “I-I’m pretty sure I’m gonna die, but I just have to say something.”

“Get down on the floor!” The robber shouts harshly, fed up with the kids that keep bothering his easy getaway. You slowly kneel back down, never breaking eye contact with Didi, whose cheeks turn redder by the second. You spot Spiderman’s finger slowly moving to press his web shooter, eyes darting between him and Didi. An idea takes form in your mind, but it’s risky.

You pause, swallowing nervously. “Didi… I’m the one that broke BunBun.”

She screams.

The ear-splitting sound makes the robber wince, dropping her to cover his ears. Spiderman seizes the opportunity, using his web fluid to grab his gun and toss it away in the far corner of the bank. He immediately gets to work through Didi’s screaming, effortlessly capturing the last robber and throwing him aside in a cocoon fashioned out of his web fluid.

You grab Didi, scuttling back into your corner of safety and trying to placate her. You gently rock her in your arms, letting her cry into your shirt. The collar is now soaked with her tears, and you’re beginning to regret confessing to the crime of having accidentally broken one of her favourite plates. You’d blamed it on the passing wind, and she bought it.

“Hey guys, y’all are safe now.” You look back up at Spiderman, who leans against the wall near you, scanning the crowd of relieved people who cheer for his bravery. He chuckles, casually shrugging as he tries to brush off the praise. He double-checks if anyone is hurt, his gaze lingering on you for a split second.

He gives you a brief nod and a friendly two-fingered salute, and you tiredly reciprocate the gesture with a still-crying Didi in your arms. His head moves back slightly in a wince (well, you’re pretty sure it’s a wince. You can’t really tell with his mask and everything.), and for a moment, you feel as though he’s sympathizing with you.

He takes his leave through the glass doors, Spiderman-style, with his web-slinging skills and whatnot. You’re left with the aftermath of the police finally showing up, the crying child deterring them from asking you any further questions besides a short testimony.

“Didi, it’s over now. We’re safe.” You try to soothe her by gently patting her head and hugging her tightly briefly. You’re sure your shirt is soaked by now. It baffles you how a child has so much water in their system that they still sob even after half an hour.

It took an apology, three Lego sets, and a future promise for another at Christmas to get her to stop crying.

— — — — —

The bed creaks noisily when you collapse on it with an exhausted groan, the sound a subtle sign of the old bed frame threatening to break any day now. The glow-in-the-dark stars glued onto your ceiling shines softly, the chilly breeze of Brooklyn gusting through your open window. You’d dropped off Didi on your way home, reassuring Mr. Perez that she was unharmed.

You shiver, getting up to close the window before hanging your beanie on the clothing hooks behind your door. You turn on the switch to the lamp on your desk, the warm yellow light coating your room with a cozy atmosphere.

Your stomach growls, a reminder of your delicious dinner having been a victim in the whole hostage situation from earlier. You sigh. Whatever. You’d grab a bigger breakfast tomorrow instead. For now, though, a simple protein bar from your snack drawer would have to do.

You unwrap it and bite down, munching hungrily while grabbing your sketchbook from your bag and laying it flat on your desk. You flip the pages, eyeing the empty pages with distaste. Page after page of drawings that didn’t meet your standards make your heart sink.

You finally land on an empty page and grab a pencil with your free hand. You tap the end onto the blank paper impatiently, trying to think of more inspiration for your next work. You’d been in a slump lately, and while commissions did give you some extra pocket money to go cafe hopping, it didn’t help much with your lack of artistic creativity.

Your hands itch to sketch out an idea. Anything would do. The only problem is that your brain can’t provide even a smidgen of inspiration. You huff, leaning back in your chair.

You sit up straight and scooch closer to the paper, hoping that maybe that’d trigger some form of idea.

Nope. Nothing. Nothing hits you.

Maybe it’s the happenings of today as well, what with a gun being pointed at you and helping your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman take down those thugs. You grin, recalling how Didi’s scream had impacted the poor goon, lips tugging down slightly at the reminder of your now empty wallet.

You’d have to find another commission soon.

Maybe Spiderman would want one?

You begin to doodle absentmindedly, the scratching of lead against paper a soothing sound that practically lulls you into a trance. You recall the red spray paint of a jagged spider against the black suit, the design of it so simplistic and yet representing his personality so well.

You remember his quick nod to you and silly salute, a chuckle slipping past your lips. How did he look like again? His elbow was bent, and two fingers were placed on his forehead as he leaned against the wall. He’s relatively lean, you recall, and probably taller than you too. It’s difficult to gauge since you were in a rather sticky situation that called for hunched shoulders and hesitant movements.

Your hand moves as if it’s got a mind of its own, recalling the webbed pattern on his suit. You draw and draw, adding shading after a basic outline is done. Your mind is foggy, no other thoughts remain except to transfer your memory onto paper.

Wow.

You stare down at what you’ve just drawn, taking in the overall sketch with a shaky exhale. It’s the best you’ve done in a long while, with all the details contributing to the final product.

It’s exactly as you remember, having drawn Spiderman giving you that silly salute while leaning against the tiled walls. You’d even shaded his suit perfectly.

You’re breathless. Is this really your work? From your own two hands, no less? It’s probably a one-off thing, but boy, does it feel good. Maybe thinking about Spiderman is the main reason why.

You giggle at the entertaining thought, shaking your head.

It’s probably just the adrenaline.

#spiderman: into the spiderverse #Into The Spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #into the spiderverse x reader #spiderman: into the spiderverse x reader

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xxsabitoxx · 1 year ago

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Satoru's Discovery (Pale Blue)

Read Pale Blue Part 1 HERE

~This is just a fun little glimpse back into the lives of 1st-year students Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and Reader. This is told from Satoru's perspective but still written in 2nd person format.

Warnings: Underage smoking, everyone in this implied to be 15, aka they are in their first year at jujutsu tech so there is obviously no explicit content.

Drip divider is from the wonderful @benkeibear

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

October 2004

He’s not focusing on anything but you, glasses sliding down his nose just a bit as he observes you eat. You’re talking so animatedly to Shoko, chopsticks dangling hazardously between your fingers as you use your hands to talk. You’ve always been a bit more hyper, especially when you’re eating a good meal. Satoru has only known you since April but he’s got some of your mannerisms down pat. Beside you, Suguru has his fist pressed to his cheek, elbow on the table and food forgotten as he watches you intently. There is a gentle smile on his face, perhaps this was the first time Satoru had noticed that level of focus in Suguru when it came to you.

Though, Shoko would later claim it’s been obvious from the start.

“You claim to have good eyes, yet you seem to miss the most obvious things, Gojo.”

“And then… oh, Gojo? You okay?” he hadn’t realized it, but his glasses had slipped off of his face all together and clattered to the table amidst his daydream. Now, he could feel warmth flooding his face as he scrambled to grab them, trying to ignore three sets of eyes boring into him. “Y-yeah I’m fine I was just so engulfed in your story that I..uh… I…” he couldn’t find the words to save himself, mildly thankful when you and Shoko had begun to laugh. Quickly, Satoru’s eyes had shot up to meet Suguru’s, the other man staring at him with a quirked brow. To say the two boys had clicked right away would be a false statement. It wasn’t until after their first mission that the two became close. At first, Suguru couldn’t even stand him.

Now, they were stuck together like glue, where one went, so did the other. Maybe that’s why it was so jarring to see Suguru looking at him like that, he hadn’t looked at him like that since their first mission together. It was a look of… “Jealousy? Why would I be jealous?” It had been three days since that incident at dinner and now the two were sitting on a park bench while you and Shoko were in the convenience store. Satoru shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “You were just looking at me funny dude, it was weird.” Satoru couldn’t stand the awkwardness, eyes averting to the opposite direction despite his sunglasses covering his eyes.

“Well, if I was looking at you funny, I apologize.” Suguru shrugged it all off, head turning the moment you and Shoko emerged from the small store. “Geto, Gojo!” You called, bouncing happily towards them with a lollipop pressed into your cheek. “These are for you!” You smiled as you handed Satoru a matching lollipop and Suguru a bag of chips. “I know you don’t like sweet things, so I figured you might like these.” Behind you, Shoko was lighting up a cigarette. “Thank you!” Satoru chimed happily, plucking the blue pop from your hand and unwrapping it excitedly. “Thanks.” Suguru responded as well, sharing a smile with you before tilting his head and asking Shoko for a cigarette from her stash. That feeling was creeping up Satoru’s spine again, the feeling that he was missing something but he couldn’t figure out what it was.

He watched from his spot on the bench, observing the way you laughed as Shoko begrudgingly handed Suguru one of her cigs and a lighter. He pressed the lollipop to his tongue, smiling along when it felt right but he truly wasn’t paying attention. Instead, Satoru had focused on the way you and Suguru interacted with each other. He observed a little more diligently than before, picking up on the small interactions and quick glances, the smiles you both shared when you must have figured neither him or Shoko were looking. “You coming?” He jumped a bit, noticing Suguru was standing and looking at him with an amused smirk. “Hu-oh uh yeah…” Satoru stammered, cheeks burning again as he was caught mid-daydream.

“You must be staying up late, Gojo. You’ve been pretty spaced out the last few days.” He fell into step beside you, choking out a laugh as he tried to play things off. “Yeah, I’ve been pretty invested in some of my studies.” which also wasn’t technically a lie. He had been reading and researching various physics formulas and equations and all the boring but technical stuff that would help him better understand his curse technique. “I always forget you’re actually pretty studious.” You chuckle, hand reaching out to push him playfully. Usually Satoru was on guard, not stumbling when you pushed him. Today, however, he found himself falling into Suguru’s side.

“Woah there, go easy on him.”

You had a grin on your face as you spoke, head turning upwards a bit to make eye contact with Suguru. The boy was smiling back at you, eyes shining as he spoke. “Shall we tell them? It’s really not a huge deal.” He laughed a bit as you slapped his shoulder. “Tell us what?” Shoko chimed, oblivious to the way Satoru’s world was starting to crack around him. “Well, Suguru and I…” and for a moment Satoru couldn’t hear anything other than the ringing in his ears. “No way! I fucking knew it!” Shoko had laughed, pulling her third cigarette from her lips to point at you. “You’re both terrible liars… I figured you two have been dating for like two months now.”

Satoru’s hearing returned to him just in time to hear that, his stomach twisting in knots as his worst fears were met. You and Suguru had been dating for months now. That was the very answer he couldn’t grasp, only because it was the answer he didn’t want. “Satoru, you okay?” Your brows had knitted together in concern, once again he was met with three sets of eyes boring into his own. “I-uh-yeah I’m fine just… just surprised is all.” He recovered but it wasn’t as smooth as he wanted it to be, and once again he was met with an odd look from Suguru.

But it passed, the brown eyes of his best friend had returned to you, looking at you like you were his entire universe. It made his stomach tighten even more, mouth so dry he was certain he would choke if he tried to speak again. “I’ll spare you all the mushy details, but yeah. We’ve been dating for what feels like forever now.” You laughed a bit, deciding it was best to just move on from Satoru’s clear shellshock in order to not make things awkward for him. Just like always, you could read the white-haired sorcerer better than he could read himself sometimes.

Somewhere, deep down, you knew you were witnessing his heart breaking.

But for his sake, you would try and ignore it.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #gojo satoru #geto suguru #shoko ieiri #geto x reader #suguru x reader #gojo angst #geto angst #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #gojo headcanons #gojo imagine #geto imagines

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misserabella · 2 years ago

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eugene’s secret

ellie williams x f! reader

summary; basically the scene in tlou II where ellie comes across eugene’s stash but with changes and additions!

cw; weed, smoking, cursing, tension, sexual thoughts and action, 18+ content, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, kissing, making out, the knee thing, thigh riding, teasing, dom! ellie and sub! reader, ellie being a little mean, praising, hickeys, nipple play, overstimulation, finger fucking, scissoring, getting caught!!…

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!<3

Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.

“What’s he got down here?” you said as you close the door behind your back, stairs to your right.

“It’s obviously a sex den.” Ellie joked, and you playfully pushed her with your shoulder. She smiled as he gave you an amused look. “That’s why he didn’t tell you about it.” you two started to go down the stairs, her auburn hair swaying with her steps. She looked exceptionally pretty today, with her hair on a low bun and her green jacket.

“I hope it’s a sex den, for his sake. He was so lonely man…” you laughed, and she shook her head.

When you reach the basement, you two found the double doors to your right and slowly opened them up, the strong smell of the plants residing down there hitting you on the nose.

“Oh… oh my god… It’s weed.” Ellis said, shocked as you two entered the room, illuminated by lightbulbs.

“It’s a lot of dead weed.” you nod, looking around. “This explains a lot…” you mutter, watching her take a piece of the weed in between her hands.

“Maria would lose her shit if she saw this place.” Ellie said, smelling the weed.

“How the fuck did he get this together?” you were astonished by the amount of them that stood on tables under the growing lights.

“Must’ve taken him forever.” your friend muttered as she let the weed fall to the floor, her hands now feeling sticky.

“I wish he had told me about this, man. It’s been ages since I’ve smoked. Could’ve helped him out…” you whined, following her.

“Hey!” Ellie called out for you and you looked at her, seeing the videotape she was holding on her hand. “He’s got that videotape thing.”

“Huh. Let’s see what he’s got.” you scoffed, bending just the slightest to get a hold on the rest. “ ‘Dong of the Wolf’, ‘Smash Brandi’s Cooch’…” you read their titles and Ellie frowneds.

“Are these…”

“It’s porn.” you confirmed and she laughed.

“Interesting taste, Eugene…”

You two moved on until something caught her attention.

“y/n. Look. It’s a gas mask bong.” she said while walking towards you for you to see.

You sigh. “God, he was so smart…” you whine and take it from her hands, putting it on. “How do I look, huh?” you inquired her with a silly smile that she couldn’t see as you posed for her.

“Well… It certainly is a look.” she shrugged and you frowned, taking it off and putting it back where she had found it.

“Rude…”

“Oh, shut up. You love it.” she said as she walked away, unable to see just how hard you rolled your eyes behind her back. “Ah…” she mumbled as she took a glass jar from the tables.

“Oh…” you came closer, eyes in the jar. “There you go.” you smiled, taking it and inspecting it. “Jackpot.”

“You think it’s still good?” Ellie questions, and you shrug.

“Mmm-mm. Let’s find out.” you said as you tried opening it. You groaned when it wouldn’t, bending over yourself to push the lid harder.

“You having a hard time?” she inquired you as she unbuttoned her jacket, after having left her backpack on the floor. She seemed amused by your struggling.

“No, I got it.” you promised, but the lid wouldn’t fucking budge. “Fuck.” you said and her hands were ready to take it.

“Give me.”

“Oh yeah, like you’re going to get it.” you rolled your eyes just as she rolled up her sleeves. And then, with a quick and harsh motion of her wrist, the lid popped open. “You bitch.” you said, shocked and at the same time hurt. Your pride was hurt.

“You were saying…?” she cockily asks and you push her on the chest, trying to ignore just how good her hands were looking and how their veins were visible. Shit.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” you huffed, taking one of the perfectly rolled blunts in between your fingers and smelling it. She put the jar back on the table. You smelled it, smiling. “Smells good.” you handed it to her so she could do the same, but instead, she looked at you and slowly pulled it up to her plush lips, taking it on her mouth.

You stared as she sat down on the couch. “I mean… We’re gonna be stuck her a while, right?” she shrugged and you squinted your eyes with a little smile. Oh you knew where this was going…

You shook your head, amused, and sat down beside her, your back against the side of the sofa, legs to your chest. “Totally trapped…” You looked at her as she lit it and took a drag, closing her eyes when her throat burned. Her side profile was beautiful, with her perfect nose and long eyelashes, reddish cheeks decorated with freckles…

You wanted nothing more than inhale back in the smoke she was letting out her lungs.

You accepted the blunt when she offered it to you, taking a hit and smiling as you threw your head backwards. “Shit. That’s good.” she let out a chuckled watching you, leaning backwards against the sofa with her legs spread, perfectly exposing her firm thighs. Oh what you’d do to be able to sit on them…

You two shared the joint in between a little chatting, taking in the peace of the place and just how comfortable you were around each other despite last night’s events.

You were high out of your mind when she talked once again. “Can I ask you a question?”

“I don’t know, can you?” you eyes, reddish and half-lidded squinted at her, an amused smile decorating your face.

She shook her head with the same smile before going back to you and moving to face you just the slightest. “Scale of one to ten…” she started and you offered her the blunt. “One being like absolute trash, and ten being life-altering… How would you rate our kiss last night?” she inquired, now fully facing you and taking a hit.

You felt warmth crept up your cheeks, your heart pounding faster inside your chest. You scratched nervously your neck. “Why are we still talking about this?” you asked, taking the blunt and taking a drag. “You said it was a mistake.”

“Did I say that?” Ellie frowned, looking at you, raising her eyebrows, not truly believing it.

You leaned in, looking at her with those beautiful eyes of yours, your legs now one against the other and bended to look at her. “What are you doing?”

“I asked you to rate our kiss.” she repeated while stealing the blunt, her eyes flickering just the slightest to your lips.

“I don’t know…” you shrugged, looking at your lap and away from her green eyes.

“I’d give it a six.” she said after having thought it through.

“A six?!” you inquire, astonished, taking the blunt and smoking a little bit more. “Wow…” you nodded as you exhaled the smoke.

“Like a solid six.” she continued.

“Okay.” Ouch.

“There were a lot of people around.” she clarifies and you look at her.

“Yeah, but, six?”

“Oh, what?” she takes the blunt. “I mean, now I really want to know how you’d rate it.” she said and you looked away.

“I don’t think you do.” you mumbled, and once you looked back and found her smirking. Cocky. “You’re infuriating.” you groaned.

“Have you met you?” she contra-attacked, sarcastic. She was getting closer.

“You make me want to go back outside into that blizzard.” you said, and she smiled, leaning so close you almost lost your breath, her eyes on yours.

“No one is stopping you.” she whispered, and that made you look at her lips. They looked so fucking soft. And for what you knew, they felt just as they looked. She smiled, looking at your dazed face and down at your lips, dampening her own and watching you bit your lower one.

“This better be better than a six.” you whispered and she smiled, flicking and throwing away the remains of the blunt to harshly grab your face and bring you towards her lips. You let out a gasp at the contact, at the intensity. She was kissing you so passionately you felt like melting in between her arms.

She bit down on your lip and you let out a moan that allowed her to push her tongue inside your mouth, humming. Your tongue met hers and after a few seconds she pulled away to look at your eyes before leaning back in once again. You smiled against her lips, her hands leaving your face to grab at your hips and push you back onto the sofa, climbing on top of you. The kiss was heated, not like last night’s. Was needy, was perfect.

Your fingers found her hair and pulled, making her moan in your mouth. She breathed against your lips with her eyes closed as she pulled back and you smiled, raising your eyebrows when her reddish eyes found yours. “Better than a six, huh?” you cockily inquired her and she groaned.

“Shut up.” and she really made you shut up, ‘cause her lips were back on yours. She sucked on your bottom lip, making you whine, before starting to kiss down your jaw and neck, sucking on your skin and making you tug harder on her hair.

“Ah, shit, Ellie. It hurts.” you said as she latched to your neck, biting and licking the marks she’d leave behind to help with the sting. But you really weren’t paying attention to the pain, since now her hands were unzipping your jacket.

“It hurts, baby?” she sarcastically pouted, before you could come back with a smart answer, her leg pushing in between your thighs and against your cunt.

“Fuck.” you moaned when she bucked your hips against her thigh, making you ride it, your jeans pressing against your clit from above your underwear.

“That’s it. Ride my thigh, baby.” she smirked against your chest when you started to press yourself against her harder. You helped her rip off your shirt, leaving you naked from your waist up. “Fuck. No bra?” she inquired, and you moaned when one of her hands grasped your right tit. “You’re so fucking pretty…” she muttered against your skin before her lips latched to your left breast, sucking on your nipple, her index and thumb pinched the other, overstimulating you and making you whine.

“Ellie…” you sighed her name, taking the hand that was on your waist and pulling from it to push it against and between your thighs. “Please, touch me, please…”

“Shit.” she cursed, quickly getting rid of the button of your jeans and throwing them aside after having dragged them down your legs, leaving you solely on your underwear for her to see. “So fucking beautiful…” she whispered, taking off her own shirt and bra before pulling herself closer and on top of you one more time. You moaned when her fingers pushed against your panties, playing with your clit over them. You were so sensitive due to the weed that you felt like crying.

She kissed you as her hand pushed your underwear to the side, letting your glistening cunt made contact with the cold air of the basement. “Oh god…” your head got thrown backwards when she finally touched you, her fingertips glistening with your arousal and sliding so easily in between your lips.

“ ‘S that for me?” she inquired, her head dizzy with the feeling of just how wet you were for her, how pretty you looked under her body, with her fingers on your cunt.

You nodded, whimpering when her middle finger started to circle your clit, electricity cursing through your veins.

“Use your words for me, pretty girl. I want to hear you.” she said, kissing your neck, and you moaned when she plugged her middle finger inside, your walls tightening around it and sucking it in.

“Yes, yes, Ellie. ‘S for you, only for you.” you breathed out, feeling as she started to fuck it in and out of you, the dirty sounds your pussy was making while taking her finger filling the room and making your cheeks burn.

“Atta girl, taking it so good. Listen to her, she’s so wet and ready for me…” she sucked on your nipples and you threaded your fingers on her hair, arching your back when she curled her finger and found that spongy spot inside of you that made your skin burn and your thighs shook. “There it is.” she smiled, curling it again, and again, and again… Until you were a moaning mess underneath her. You were so lost on the pleasure, so needy for her…

“Please Ellie, please, fuck, fuck me, fuck me please…” you begged.

“Such a good girl, asking for it so nicely… You want me to fuck you baby? Leave you all pretty and fucked out?” you nod, and she chuckles when you start to undo her jeans. “Needy, are we?” she teased and you whined.

“Please, Ellie…” she gave in, ‘cause truth be told, she needed you just as badly as you needed her. She got rid of your and her underwear, kneeling in front of you. She was perfect. Perfect with everything he would had on, and off.

She straddled one of your thighs so her glistening cunt would be pressed against yours. You two let out a moan at the contact.

“Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, Ellie…” you cried out as she started to move, your clits pressing against the other and making you whimper.

“Shit, you feel so good…” she moaned, taking your hips to grind against you harder, your juices mixing with each other’s as your pussies slides one against the other.

“Please don’t stop.” you begged, kissing her, grasping at her back and clawing at her skin, already over the edge due to her previous toying and teasing.

“I won’t, baby, I won’t. Are you close, hm? Are you gonna come for me?” you nodded, a whimper leaving your lips.

“Yes, yes, fuck.” tears were brimming your eyes, the pleasure was too strong. Her hands felt like pure fire against your skin.

“That’s it, good girl. Cum for me, baby. Wanna see you fall apart.” and with that your back arched, your walls clenching down on nothing and pulsing as you gushed against her cunt and moaned over and over again, each time louder as you reached your peak. “Fuck.” she muttered, watching as you came undone, fucking you and herself through it until she too was falling over the edge and on top of you, moaning and groaning against your neck.

The two of you were breathing heavily, bodies sticky with sweat and glued together. You could feel her quickened heartbeat. She left soft fluttery kisses against your neck and up your cheek towards your lips, where she left a sweet peck.

“Then… Better than a six?” you inquired her and she hit you on the shoulder, making you laugh and making her follow you.

“You’re so stupid.” she shook her head, and you kissed her.

“Oh, shut up, you love it.” you whispered against her lips before she’d lean in and kiss you again. Hands on your hips, his thumb drawing circles on your skin. And just as her tongue entered your mouth, you heard someone screaming your names.

“Ellie? y/n?! Are you two down there?” you pulled apart and looked at each other with eyes widened and faces that clearly said: fuck, Jesse.

You two quickly got up, staggering to get your clothes aback on. You pulled on your underwear and pants, reaching for your shirt as you screamed back.

“Yeah! We’re here! But… Don’t come down! Stay there!”

“Oh fuck.” Ellie said as she fought to put on her sports bra. And if you weren’t about to get caught post-sex, you would have stopped to stare at her smushed tits.

“What the hell are you two doing down… Oh my god!” Jesse screamed and looked away when he caught a glimpse of your naked back and Ellie’s naked legs.

“Fuck, Jesse!” you screamed at him.

“I’m sorry, shit. I didn’t know you two… Fuck.”

“Just shut up, and turn around, oh my god!” he did what you asked so you two could finish dressing up, although Ellie was having a little too much fun kissing your neck instead of helping you put your shirt on.

a/n; fun fact, i dreamed about ellie after smoking last night and now i can’t get her out of my head.😭

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