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rin-may-1103 · 4 months

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The Wrong Robin Au (part four)

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Danny slowed his car down, staring at the black iron gate coming into view; Bats and ivy welded on in an elegant pattern, obviously more thought-out than The Drake's ducks had been. He had to give it to Tim, the kid had been right about how stupid the ducks looked.

Glancing around, Danny found he was completely alone on the dirt road. The gray sky slowly brightened as the sun climbed higher in the distance, trees swaying in the gentle breeze, and birds chirped.

If it hadn't been for his experiences at Vlad's place, he would have found the scenery comforting, maybe even inviting. But the knowledge that this was the home of a billionaire, one that went out at night to fight crime like a furry on crack nonetheless, ruined it.

Maybe he should just head back to the motel...

...

Fuck it, when had Phantom ever backed down? That's right! Never! Danny was going to stick to his metaphorical guns and follow through with his admittedly stupid plan.

Taking his foot off the brake; Danny activated his intangibility, shared it with the car, and drove through the gate. (look, what were his powers for if not to make his life convenient? He deserved it after literally dying for them. AND the gate was probably locked. There was no way he could convince someone to let him in at this time in the morning, so...)

Danny kept an eye on his surroundings as he drove, he doubted Bruce Wayne would have ghost vultures working for him, but that doesn't mean Danny wouldn't be prepared if he did.

Eventually, a large building came into view. Its gothic architecture and obvious timely design set it apart from Vlad's modern monstrosity of a castle. Danny could just tell this was a home for a family with old money; the weathered roof and aged water fountain told stories of the people who used to live there. This was a home, not just a house.

Pulling his car over and parking, Danny quickly sent a mental prayer to the home's ancestors. He hoped they could forgive him for what he was about to do.

Grabbing his backup phone and his keys, Danny tossed the car door open and stepped out. Immediately his senses were clouded with grief and anger. It was so strong he almost lost his footing. The house was just drenched in the emotions, tendrils reaching out and wrapping around anything and everything.

Closing his eyes, Danny held his breath so he could focus on blocking the emotions out. (flashes of someone else's memories rushed past his mind; a glimpse of a young boy sitting in a library reading a book. An older man sitting next to him silently. In another flash, the two were now in a dark cave, the light of a computer the only thing illuminating them as the older man draped a blanket across the boy's back. whispered words of sincere promises echoed in his head.)

He had believed Tim, but he hadn't expected it to be this bad. Ancients, this was worse than when he had to deal with Spectra.

Batman definitely needed therapy.

...

Maybe Jazz should be Robin instead, she'd know how to handle this properly. but Jazz wasn't here right now, she was in Sweden learning all about mental health. Which meant Danny would have to do this himself.

yay.

He had two options; One, he sits down with the man and they have a sincere and very emotional conversation. Or two, he beats it into the guy's head that he needs to stop going out and trying to get himself killed. Based on everything he knows about Batman? It was going to be number two that was going to get results... Well, at least Danny had experience punching things until he got what he wanted. (even if it didn't always work.)

Shaking himself out of his mind, Danny started making his way to the front door. It was past five in the morning, Bruce should be home now. Whether he was sleeping like Danny would assume he usually did, was a different question altogether.

Glancing around the door, Danny found there was a large rope hanging to the left. Vlad had the same thing at his place, it was an old-fashioned doorbell.

shrugging, Danny pulled on the rope and waited.

and waited.

After a minute or two, Danny pulled the rope again. Suddenly the door swung open to reveal an older man dressed in a nice waistcoat and trousers.

"Can I help you?" the man asked, a British accent completing the look.

Danny blinked for a second before quickly focusing back on his task. "My name's Danny. Bruce is being a dumbass who needs to take a chill pill and take a step back from hospitalizing criminals. Can I come in?"

It was the old man's turn to stare and blink at him. After a minute, the man stepped back and opened the door, his eyebrow raised. "I would like to see how you plan to tell this to Master Bruce. His office is this way, young man."

"May I ask what exactly you're doing here?" the man asked, closing the door behind Danny.

Danny shrugged, "I'm here to beat some sense into him. He's going to get himself killed and no one wants to see what happens when he does."

The butler, because the rich fruitloop would obviously have one, hummed as he nodded his head in agreement. "I see. Maybe this is what he needs then. he won't listen to me, no matter how much I nag him."

Nothing else was said as he guided Danny through the manor, eventually stopping at a fancy dark wooden door. "Master Bruce, you appear to have a visitor." Then He opened the door and gestured for Danny to enter.

He only had a moment to ponder how he should do this before he entered the room. He should keep his powers hidden, for now at least.

He was greeted with the sight of an exhausted man in a bathrobe sitting at his desk and staring out the window. He was clutching a very worn and loved book in his hands, his brows slightly furrowed. (Danny noted that it was the same book the kid had been reading, The Hero and the Crown... or something like that, Danny hadn't really gotten a good look at the title.)

The butler stepped back, closing the door, and stood next to it to maybe await his new orders. Ones he probably wouldn't get any time soon, if the way Bruce hadn't moved or responded meant anything.

Well, if the old man wanted to see this then who was Danny to stop him?

Stepping forward, Danny leaned over the desk and slapped the back of Bruce's head. The man swiftly turned and stared at him, raising one of his hands to touch his head in shock. Danny heard the butler choke in surprise but ignored him. He could only pray to Clockwork that Bruce didn't kill him for this.

"You are being absolutely idiotic, dude." Danny declared. "Do you think Jason would have wanted you to act like this?" Bruce stood up, his chair slamming into the wall, his eyes burning in anger. "No? Then get your shit together and be the man he would be proud of."

Bruce lunged over the desk, his fist pulled back to hit Danny. It was just like Danny expected, just like Tim had told him, the man was letting his emotions control his actions. Dodging to the side, Danny continued talking, "This going out every night, fighting more and more dangerous and outlandish people all by yourself? It's going to get you killed."

Bruce gave up on trying to punch him, instead, he threw himself forward and body-slammed Danny to the floor. Danny coughed, quickly blocking his face as Bruce took a swing at him. Using the man's blind anger to his advantage, Danny kicked Bruce in the chest and sent him flying into his desk. "Jason's dead. It sucks. and it hurts. It's probably the worst pain you've ever experienced, but there's nothing you can do about it."

Danny glared at the man as he scrambled into a crouch, waiting to see what Bruce did next. "Shut up," the man growled, shoving himself up and away from his desk. He picked up his stapler; he was probably either going to use it as a blunt weapon or throw it at Danny. Widening his stance, Danny got ready to dodge or lunge.

He remembered reading about him, online when he first became Phantom. He remembered reading about Robin and Batman and how they worked together to protect Gotham. How they tirelessly worked day and night to put their rogues away every time they got out again.

He remembered seeing pictures of Batman standing next to little Robin, a proud smile on his face as the police took the criminals away. Pictures of the man helping and protecting Robin whenever the boy couldn't handle whatever mess he had gotten into. There was even a memorable one of Batman scolding an obviously sheepish Robin, a knocked-out Riddler slumped behind him.

He had wished so badly for someone to help him back them, for someone to be his Batman when times got hard. He remembered how devastated he was when it turned out the only person like him was Vlad. Vlad, who had wanted to murder his father and marry his mother. Vlad, who had overshadowed people to gain more wealth and power. Vlad, who hadn't seen how wrong it was to try and clone him.

He remembered the comments and videos from the citizens of Gotham, cheering for their heroes when they succeeded in capturing the rogues. How they still supported them when they failed. It was nothing like Amity's reaction to him.

He remembered how Gothom reacted when Robin was pronounced dead. How the city had cried and raged. He felt it all the way over in Amity, the grief and anger. The whole city had come together to mourn the boy who protected them. Even two years later, Danny could still feel the echoes.

"Jason's dead. He's dead and gone and you're letting yourself get consumed with your grief. but you made a promise Bruce."

Danny knew he had, it was the same promise Danny had made just four years ago.

Bruce's eyes widened and the anger that was surging in his eyes froze for just a moment. His hand loosened around the stapler but didn't let it go. The butler looked concerned, unsure if he should interfere or not.

"You made a promise all those years ago when you first dawned that stupid bat suit. You promised to do everything in your power to help your city. To protect it. Robin made the same promise. When he took up his suit. They both did."

Bruce's jaw tensed, his eyes narrowing. Danny lowered his body, still ready to dodge at a moment's notice.

"You made a promise to your son, Bruce. Even if he didn't know it. One that you couldn't keep."

Bruce threw the stapler, making Danny jump to the side to dodge it. His mistake was not keeping an eye on what Bruce did after throwing it. The man quickly rushed up to him, eyes blazing in anger. "You don't know anything!" he cried, his fist slamming into Danny's jaw. Danny staggered back but ducked under the next punch.

"I lost my son! I wasn't there!" Bruce shouted, kicking Danny's legs out from under him. Danny's back hit the floor, knocking the breath out of him. Bruce followed him down, breaking his nose with another punch to the face. "I promised I would protect him and I wasn't there!"

Danny growled, catching Bruce's fist in his hand and sending a punch at the side of Bruce's head. Bruce tried to lean back, Danny's fist clipping his forehead. Bruce grunted, reaching up to grab Danny's fist to keep him from punching him again.

"You couldn't protect him! I get it, it sucks!" Danny shouted back, flashes of Dani's melting form grasping at his shirt in panic pulled to the front of his mind. "It leaves a black hole in the center of your chest! It sucks all the warmth out of you, leaving only the cold bitter knowledge that you couldn't save him!" (that he couldn't save her)

Bruce pulled his fist out of Danny's hand, slamming his elbow down into Danny's chest and twisting Danny's right arm sharply in an attempt to break it. Danny kept talking though, ignoring the pain as he pulled his arm out of Bruce's grasp, "But Jason made a promise! and you're doing nothing to keep it!"

Danny grabbed onto Bruce's bathrobe and flipped them so Bruce was the one on the floor now. Quickly reaching up, Danny grabbed both of Bruce's hands and held them as still as he could. Bruce was strong, but Danny had years of fighting Skulker and the other super-strong ghosts under his belt. "He made that promise knowing that you had made the same one!"

Bruce growled, throwing his head up in an attempt to hit Danny with it. Danny leaned back, accidentally loosening his grip just enough for Bruce to break out of it. Bruce shoved him off of him, making Danny slide back and hit a chair.

Grunting, Danny stood up and lunged at Bruce. Bruce dodged to the side, dropping down to pick the stapler back up. "I can't claim to know what Jason would have wanted," Danny spat, backing up to give himself more space as Bruce stepped toward him. "but I know as someone who made the same promise, I wouldn't have wanted you to change into what you are now!"

Bruce narrowed his eyes at Danny, "Yeah, and what's that?" he growled.

"A careless, suicidal, moron," Danny growled back.

Bruce froze, stopping in place as he stared at Danny.

Danny took his chance to drive his point home; standing up straight, he raised his hands up in surrender. "He was your son. He looked up to you for protection. For guidance. And sure, maybe you weren't the best dad, and maybe you made mistakes. But you were his dad."

Danny stepped forward, watching as the butler stepped forward to reach out to the man. "and what kind of son would want his dad to kill himself?"

Bruce dropped his stapler, his eyes falling to the ground and catching onto the book he had dropped earlier. It was opened to the front page, written words in messy writing covering it.

"You need to stop, Bruce," Danny said, slowly crouching down and reaching out for the book. Bruce watched him as he stood up, the book still open to the front page in his hands. Jason's writing visible to all of them.

"you couldn't keep your promise to protect him. It sucks and it hurts. but you can keep his promise. The same promise you made all those years ago."

Bruce looked up at him, his blue eyes filling with tears, the butler's hand resting on his shoulder. Danny stepped forward again, holding the book out for Bruce to take.

"You can't protect Gotham if you're dead."

Jason's handwritten note stared up at them, the ink messy and smudged.

'to the best dad in the world and the many adventures we'll go on!'

and Bruce? Bruce crumbled to the floor with a sob, leaving Danny to stand in front of him. Blood running down his face, staining his hoodie and pink Hello Kitty pants, the book still held out with steady hands.

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golden-cherry · 1 year

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deal - cl16 (17/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: That's definitely not the goodbye you wanted.

Warnings: angst, jealousy, swear words

Word Count: 3.3k

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A/N: sorry for this shitty chapter and sorry for keeping you waiting! feedback is appreciated! love ya.

It's not long before Charles falls asleep next to you.

You hear his soft breathing, the way the bedspread rustles as he slides his arm under the pillow and bends his right knee. Apparently he's lying on his stomach, snuggled tightly in the warmth of the bed you'll share for the second and last time.

That Charles has grown so close to your heart in exactly three days is something you would never have thought was possible in your life.

After Raphael cheated on you and your friends let you down, you vowed to take better care of yourself and your heart and never let anyone into your life so easily again. You resigned yourself to the fact that you would spend the next time alone until you could put your trust in someone again. And that had been perfectly fine with you, as long as it had kept further pain at bay.

But the brunette Monegasque, without making any particular effort, has walked into your life as if God personally had opened the gates for him, and has taken up residence with you as if he were a virus that is taking you over completely.

You turn away from him, but you can still feel the warmth of his body through the many layers of fabric that lie between you.

The fact that he will spend the next few days in Italy is a good start to building the wall that will keep your heart from great harm. It will create some distance between you, buy you more time in which to figure out your feelings. And if it really comes down to you feeling more than simple friendship for your roommate, you'll still have plenty of time to think of some way to handle the situation.

You're about to press your face into your pillow so it can stop the whirlwind of thoughts in your head when your cell phone lights up.

Lando: Did you know that the Eiffel Tower is about six inches taller in the summer than in the winter?

Confused, but grinning, you glance at the screen. It's the middle of the night - why is he sending you such a strange message at this late hour?

You cast a glance over your shoulder to make sure Charles is actually asleep before releasing the key lock, lowering your phone's brightness to its lowest setting, and starting to type.

You: Didn't know that. Why is that?

The "seen" with the little checkmark appears directly under your sent message, and a few moments later the typical three dots that appear when a reply is composed flash.

Lando: Due to thermal expansion, meaning the iron heats up, the particles gain kinetic energy and take up more space.

You have to smile, even suppress a giggle.

You: You googled that for sure.

Lando: You got me. I didn't know the best way to start a conversation.

You: I'd say the middle of the night is generally not a good time to start a conversation. What if I had already been asleep?

Lando: Then you would have woken up confused for sure and blocked me right after the message.

You: Then you're lucky I'm still awake.

Lando: I'm definitely lucky.

Behind you, Charles moves a little, but doesn't seem to wake up. You feel him scoot a tiny bit closer to you, as if he realizes you're still awake.

Lando: Have you ever been to Paris?

You: Unfortunately not. I'd like to go there sometime, though. And you?

Lando: I've been there before. Maybe we can go there together? Then I can show you the most beautiful places.

You have to grin. Straightforward guy he is.

You: Do you really think I would just travel to Paris with a semi stranger?

Lando: You're right about that. But that can easily be changed. You and me, tomorrow, dinner at 8?

You feel Charles rest his hand on your bedspread. It's like he subconsciously realizes you're about to go out with one of his friends. He exhales deeply, but doesn't move any further.

You: That was very smooth, Mr. Norris.

Lando: So is that a yes?

Without giving it much thought, you answer the Brit with a "Yes, I'd love to," whereupon he responds with a "Great. I'll get back to you tomorrow. Don't stay up too late and sleep well" back. You press the key lock on your phone and put it back next to your pillow.

Time you do have. Charles isn't around, and you don't have a job to go to every day, so your days are as free as the beach in winter. And for sure it will do you good to spend time with someone other than the Monegasque. Lando is nice and friendly and funny. And since the two of you don't live together, and the level at which you're getting to know each other is much more superficial than the one Charles and you are on right now, you shouldn't be in danger of taking him to your heart as quickly as your roommate.

Who by now has moved so close to you that you can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck. It's steady, coming in waves and brushing your skin like a warm summer breeze. For sure he is sleeping well, maybe even having a nice dream. He doesn't even know yet that it's the last time he'll sleep next to you.

You close your eyes, almost press your eyelids together and force yourself to fall asleep. With the ulterior motive that the person who is dearest to you right now is exactly the one with whom you will soon have to keep the most distance.

Something rustles.

The sound is close, but not so close that it could find its origin right next to your ear. It also sounds muffled, as if there is a thick piece of soft cotton between the sound and your eardrum, so you can't really hear what exactly is making that sound.

You press your face a little deeper into the pillow.

The rustling becomes louder.

Tired and with your eyes closed, you pull the blanket higher to your chin to cling to sleep. And for a brief moment it works, your mind slips back into a gentle slumber - until you hear a loud, unmistakable rumble.

Annoyed and above all confused, you open your eyes. Your cell phone reads 6:15 a.m. Who's making that kind of noise at this hour?

You sit up abruptly, as if you've been electrocuted, and the covers fall into your lap. Charles.

For sure he is packing up the last things before he wants to wake you up. To say goodbye to you. You're surprised you didn't hear his alarm clock. For sure he only rang it once briefly before your roommate turned it off so it wouldn't wake you up. Very kind and considerate.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and slip into fuzzy socks so your feet don't freeze. As you tie your hair so it doesn't look like you've touched an electrical socket, you hear keys jingle.

Charles wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to you, would he?

Hesitantly, you go to the door of the room and open it slowly to make sure he's still there. And indeed, he hasn't left the apartment yet.

But he has shouldered his travel bag, his feet are in shoes, and the apartment door is open, as if he is about to take the first step out. When he hears you, he turns around.

Confused and still slightly sleepy, you stand in the doorway. You point your finger at the large bag. "Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?" you ask him, rubbing the heels of your hands over your eyes. Damn, it's definitely too early to be awake.

Your roommate steps unsteadily from one foot to the other. "I didn't mean to wake you." In his free hand, he holds his key.

You screw up your face. "But you wanted to say goodbye." You cross your arms in front of your chest. "You said you'd set an alarm so you could get up on time and we could say goodbye properly."

The situation is strange. You're standing in the doorway to the room where Charles shared a bed with you, as he stands on the threshold that separates this apartment from the rest of the world. It feels like he's trying to escape from what's happening inside these four walls. Like he can't wait to leave and leave you here.

He doesn't even want to say goodbye to you.

"I know, but-" he begins, but doesn't seem to know how to finish the sentence, which is why he just falls silent. His gaze wanders from your face to the room behind you before he lowers it to his shoes. He swallows once before looking at you again. "Can we talk about this another time?" he asks quietly. "I have to go."

What happened in the last few hours you were asleep? Did you do something to make him want to run away from here? To want to flee from you? The way he's standing there, he seems like he can't wait to finally leave the apartment. As if he had to quickly put as many kilometers as possible between you.

The fact that he doesn't want to talk to you about it unsettles you more than you'd like to admit.

When you were with Raphael, there were many arguments, after which you both went to bed without clearing up the situation or talking things out. That oppressive, stomach-churning feeling was so devastating and caused such nausea in you that you told yourself that you will never again let an argument or difficult situation just stand.

You don't want to go to bed angry. And you don't want anyone to go to bed angry and mad at you either.

"Did I do something?" you ask, letting your arms, which were crossed just a moment ago, fall to your sides. As a sign that you're ready to face whatever may follow. "Talk to me, please, Charles."

Of course, neither of you would go to sleep now. But the very thought that you won't see each other again for another four days, and thus parting, leaves a bitter taste on your tongue. Which you naturally want to get rid of as quickly as possible.

Demonstratively, he glances at his wristwatch. "I don't have time. Let's talk about it another time."

"It's 6:25. I thought you didn't have to leave until 7?"

He clenches his teeth. "I want to drive now." He's visibly tense, his hand almost tightening around the key. Charles doesn't want to drive. He wants to run. From you. And you don't know why.

Somewhere inside you, a small crack is opening up, uncomfortable, pressing on the pit of your stomach. Your discomfort worsens with each passing moment.

"What have I done?" you try again to get him to talk. You cross the room until you're standing in front of him. "Whatever it was - I'm sorry. I don't know what it is that I could have done that upset you so much. But I don't want you to leave now and be mad at me when we won't see each other again for another four days. Let's talk about it. Please."

It's almost pathetic how desperate you sound. Your voice trembles like it's going to break at any moment, and you can feel tears gathering in your eyes. You try to blink them away.

There have been countless situations like this with Raphael. It was always you who wanted to solve an argument. The one who tried harder. Who sacrificed more. And it has brought nothing.

Even though you two have only known each other for a few days, this argument is much worse. Because you don't know what you have done, and therefore you can't change anything. You can't find a solution here.

Charles doesn't seem to care that you are on the verge of crying. His gaze is hard and cold as he looks down at you. He looks at you as if you were a stranger just standing in his apartment.

As you reach out to him, he takes the last step over the threshold. The small crack inside you grows larger, now seems to have reached your heart, forming a great chasm. The wall that has been built so far has been of no use. It is completely useless.

"If you really want to talk to someone, why don't you talk to Lando?" His tone is icy and his gaze sprays venom.

Lando?

Charles seems to have picked up on your confused look. Annoyed, he rolls his eyes, which stings you further. "Now don't act like that. He texted me in the middle of the night asking what culinary cuisine you prefer for your dinner tonight." He raises an eyebrow. "And here I thought you'd already had an extensive conversation about it. What was it again? Canned soup and BigMac?"

Your discomfort gives way to an even more rotten feeling. Anger spreads through you like a wildfire you can't stop it. How dare he?

"What are you trying to say?" you ask calmly, even though everything is burning inside you. Charles interfering in this matter when he has no right to do so makes your anger spill over, but you know better than to take it out on him directly. You pull yourself together. Even though you'd like to strangle him, you don't want you two to fight.

"Come on, Y/N." His smile is spiteful and ugly - even though he's the most beautiful man on the planet. "We both know he's just trying to fuck you. So what's the point of dinner? It's just a waste of money."

Excuse me?

"What do you mean?"

He seems to think for a moment, as if he were struggling with himself to say the next words. "After all, what Raphael did to you doesn't seem to bother you much if you're going to date someone new right away. And you said yourself yesterday that you weren't going to meet anyone on this couch." He extends his free arm and waves it in a semicircle in front of him. "Let's do it, then. Monaco is full of rich men. Then you don't exactly have to hook up with one who's my friend."

Never in your entire life have you wanted to smack someone so badly as Charles at this moment.

He knows what Raphael did to you. And he also knows why your ex cheated on you. The fact that he now assumes that you would just jump into bed with Lando like that upsets you so much that you're at a loss for words.

You don't recognize him. The Charles who lets you stay with him for free, who makes you laugh, and who is so close to you at times that you have to consider how to protect your heart, has dropped off the face of the earth.

Opposite you is a mean and ruthless man you can't get away from fast enough. His words hit you harder than any blow could, and the tears in your eyes no longer originate in discomfort, but in pure rage.

You don't care what you did to make him act this way. You don't care what exactly happened between you that caused this argument to degenerate like this. And you don't care if you go to bed tonight mad at him.

This argument is different than the one over his phone call with Raphael or the one at dinner with his friends. It's too close, too personal, and for Charles to think of you that way, after everything you've told him about yourself, chokes your throat and makes your heart shatter into a thousand pieces.

"You can have the apartment," you say emotionlessly. Your fire is extinguished, your anger is suffocated. The only thing left is a dull feeling of grief.

How could you think Charles would be any different? That he would actually be a friend to you? You even showed him your favorite place. That wasn't even twelve hours ago.

"When you come back, I'll be gone." Your gaze is fixed on Charles, letting him know how serious you are. Something flashes in his eyes, but whatever it is - you don't care. "I hate you."

Without waiting for an answer, you close the apartment door. As you turn around, you feel like an intruder in your own home.

Which, theoretically, isn't even your home. It's Charles' home, it's his apartment. He's just been nice and let you stay with him. And he didn't do that because he saw a friend in you, but because he felt sorry for you, as you must now realize.

Did this "good deed" make him feel better? Did he let you stay here to prove to himself what a good guy he is after everything with Annika? Is he really that selfish?

Who exactly is Charles Leclerc?

You would like to leave the apartment immediately, because there is nothing that doesn't make you remember Charles. The couch reminds you of the evening when you drank wine and watched Cars. The kitchen table is where you eat pain au chocolat and croissants. The bathroom is where you grin at each other in the mirror as you brush your teeth. Charles is everywhere.

He's especially in the dark bedroom, too, when you return to lie down in bed. His sheets are still where you found them when you woke up, and his smell is all over the room, making it hard for you to breathe.

Pulling your own blanket up to your chin, you lie there staring at the ceiling, racking your brain as to where exactly you took a wrong turn. But for the life of you, you can't think of anything.

You turn on your side and take a deep breath. Charles' smell hits your nose and only now, surrounded by darkness and silence, do you allow yourself to cry. Tears roll down your skin and one sob after another escapes your sore throat, which feels as if it has been laced shut. Your body shakes like it's electrified and somewhere inside you think your heart has stopped beating.

The person you trusted the most has let you down. Your closest friend has dropped you without explaining himself to you.

But that's not what hurts so indescribably.

It hurts so much because it's Charles. The Charles you saw as your best friend after only a few days. The Charles who didn't judge you.

You slide to the other side of the bed and slip under Charles' covers so that you are now completely enveloped in his smell. You feel so close to him, even though he's so far away, and even though the warmth feels like a hug, you feel lonely. You cling to that hug that isn't a hug, because that's the closest thing you have left of him.

Tomorrow you would look for another apartment, maybe even move away from Monaco. And then you would pack your things and leave, just like you promised Charles. And you wouldn't break that promise - that deal, the way he broke his.

Not long ago, you didn't want to share the bed with him anymore, braced yourself for it to be the last time you'd be this close. You wanted to build the wall that would protect, should protect your heart.

But it's no use building a wall when your heart hasn't been yours for a while.

next part

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1K notes · View notes

hoeforalbedo · 7 months

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Dolly (Finale)

Demon Alastor x Demon Housewife!Reader

Tw: Alcohol, Club, reader referred to woman, murder, rushed work.

Note: It’s kinda rushed. I tried. I was watching a school play and it was Chicago so I thought why not start it off at the club. I was also going to write a smut but it wouldn’t save so I guess it just wasn’t meant to be. Last part was literally taken from Hannibal 😭😭

———————————————————————

Loud sounds of the trumpet ring throughout the club. It’s not the modernized type of clubs. No, flappers gather around dancing to the music with others at the dance floor. It’s almost as if everyone gathered together to learn the choreography as they all seem to dance in unison.

“Whiskey?” A small lady asks, holding a glass cup.

“I’m good Mimzy,” You smile. You lean back on your chair.

After years of loneliness, you’ve finally come to the end of your days. It was no natural death. Even in old age you found yourself feeding off the high you felt from murder. It was the only thing keeping you sane, ironically.

One moment were falling back onto the ground, the second you were greeted by the gold pearly gates. “Welcome to Heaven. Name please?”

“Hi, I am Y/N L/N, I believe I would not be on that list,” You smiled.

“Is that so? Surely I fine mannered lady like you should be on the list.” The angel hummed and looked at his list. “How odd, your name isn’t here.”

“I hope not, it isn’t. I’m very aware that murder is a huge sin,” You chuckled.

“Oh. . . Well then-“ You found yourself falling once more.

“My dear wife can’t handle her liquor well,” The static voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Oh Alastor, you know I’m not one for alcohol,” you say, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I’ll take that, Mimzy.”

“Oh you two are truly a match made in hell,” The short flapper laughs.

“Hell?” You smirk, looking at Alastor.

“Truly.” Your husband answers, taking your hand and kissing the back of it.

“Oh I’ll leave you demon couple to be. I don’t plan to be a third wheel. Ta ta~!” The flapper waves, getting lost in the crowd.

“I believe we have time,” You look at him mischievously.

“I believe we do!” Alastor looks at a certain direction of the club, eyes landing at a man sniffing some substance. “I wouldn’t want to waste the night, especially since my wife dressed all pretty for me. Care for a dance?”

You jump up from your chair. “Why I thought you’d never ask!” You smile as Hit the Road Jack through the speakers. The song is very much after Alastor’s time however he found that he enjoys his music.

The two of you get to the dance floor. He places his hand at the small of your back and swing in sync with the music. He takes the lead, spinning and twirling you around.

“How I missed this!” You scream over the music.

“I’ve forgotten how amazing you are,” Alastor compliments, hooking your leg around his waist.

“Dancing was one of the many things I’ve missed.”

Alastor slowly dips you low to the ground before pulling you back up. “The day I took you dancing, I knew I was in love.” No, actually his mom suggested he take you dancing although he was taken off guard when you managed to keep up with him.

The demon lets go of your hands, letting you shimmy around him to allow you to have a clear view of what’s going around the club. He then takes your hand, pulling you back in and guiding you to twist your hips while kicking your feet.

It’s amazing how in synch you two are with how fast the song is. At the same time, the both of you are keeping a lookout for the man that you both could not bother to know the name of.

“Alastor,” You suddenly say darkly, looking over his shoulders.

“Allow me.” He managed to maneuver you both in the dancing crowd, spinning and twirling along with them.

“How dramatic you are. We could have walked!” You chuckle.

“Well you know me, I am one for theatrics. I trust you can handle the rest?”

“Of course dear!” You smile. He twirls you one last time and you spin much farther than you should, causing you to bump into a man who ends up spilling his drink on him.

“Shit you woman this is expensive!” The man yells.

“Oh I apologize! How clumsy of me,” You apologize profusely, taking your handkerchief out and trying to dry the liquid. Your doe eyes look at him innocently, looking full of regret.

“Well I’m sure I can forgive you, if you give me your. . .” He scans your body, taking in the black dress that is modest yet perfectly hugs your curves. Your cleavage peeks out just enough to leave the rest for the imagination. “Yeah, how about you offer me your body for the night.”

You look at him with innocent confusion. “I’m afraid I can’t do much for a night. A laborious task of cleaning the stain of your suit would take me a couple hours at best!” You play coyly although you know he intends to sleep with you.

“I- you know what, how about you come with me. I’ll show you a good time,” He smirks.

“Oh that’s just the experience I’m looking for!”

“Perfect.” The man leads you out to the back of the club. Your back is leaned up against the brick walls as the man gets very close to you.

“I’m not sure how this is more fun compared to dancing.”

“How did an innocent thing like you get into hell?” The man chuckles, taking your wrists and pinning it over your head.

“I lied just a little bit,” You answered.

“How naughty,” He hums, about to burry his face into your neck until he was simultaneously pulled back by shadow tendrils.

“I’m sorry for my vagueness. I lied about murdering someone,” You smile then walk to Alastor’s side.

“Who the fuck ar- Fuck,” the man’s eyes widen realizing that the one holding him captive is none other than the radio demon he had messed with a couple days prior and that you are associated with him.

“Am quite aware that I allowed for this to happen, but I still hate the fact that someone touched what’s mine,” The radio demon says menacingly, the filter in his voice going in and out.

“Alastor, sweetheart, how about we save this for the broadcast,” You mutter to him, putting your hand on his chest. “It was the plan after all, right?”

“Why you’re right, my dear. Well then!” He wraps an arm around you and teleports the three of you to his radio station.

“Oh fucking hell. Come on man! I don’t even know who this bitch is! Spare me!” The guy begs.

Alastor’s head spin towards the man while the rest of his body remains still. “This bitch is my wife and I will not tolerate your demeaning words. However!”

The man sighs in relief. “I do not fight my wife’s battles so my dear, do as you please.”

“Gladly. I was thinking meatloaf for tonight,” You smile as you glide towards your poor victim with a butchers knife.

“Good afternoon to my fellow sinners of hell! It is I, Alastor, accompanied with my lovely wife for the first time.”

“Hello!” You say cheerfully as you chopped the man’s fingers, a scream filling the studio.

“Today there will be music, dancing,” His filter disappears, “screaming,” his voice goes back to the usual, “and all that jazz so sit back, relax, and enjoy.” Another scream resonates through the air as Alastor plays some peaceful music. He then turns to you who has been chopping off the man’s external parts. “I hope you’ve left some for me, ma chere. I’m still rather irked from earlier.”

“Oh he’s still very much alive, see!” You say, pulling the man’s cheek to force a smile on his face.

“Lovely. I hope you don’t mind a bit more blood, my dear.”

You chuckle, “Oh I’m by far very used to it.”

He kisses your forehead, “What a doll you are, me cherie.”

“Only for you.”

“Just fucking kill me already!” The man begs.

“Gladly,” Alastor says, voice deep without any filter.

———————————————————————

“Smells delicious dear,” Alastor kisses your head.

“Of course! We made it together. Is Charlie and her father almost here?” You ask as you place the last dish down on the table.

“I believe-“ A knock is heard. “They are here now.”

“Let’s hurry and greet them!” You say excitedly, taking your apron off and putting it away.

The two of you open the door with bright smiles.

“Hello you two!” You greet, hugging the both of them.

“Well hello,” Alastor says, less enthusiastically as he glares at Lucifer.

“Well if looks could kill,” Lucifer begins only to be interrupted by his daughter.

“Well I’m glad that we were invited to your home, although of course we always have space at the hotel, and I feel so bad for coming empty handed,” Charlie speaks almost as if she’s being chased by something by how fast she speaks.

“That’s absolutely fine. My wife really only ever eats the food she or I prepare,” Alastor says. “Shall we?”

The father and daughter find themselves walking past the living room where deer heads are posted above the fireplace. Once they get to the dining room, the vibe is much more homey.

“You can tell who decorated what in the house,” Lucifer snickers.

“Wow! These all look delicious!” Charlie’s eyes sparkle at the food.

“Please have a seat!” You say.

All of you begin eating, making small talk. “This tastes good. What kind of meat is this?” Lucifer asks curiously.

“Rabbit,” Alastor answers.

“He should have hopped faster.”

The couple look at each other. You smile, “Yeah, he should have.”

———————————————————————

Tags: @notsentimentalll @mixplara @futureittomainn @karolinda007-blog

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin x y/n

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theonewiththefanfics · 7 months

Text

A Life Worth Living (one-shot)

Synopsis: As sickness creeps closer in taking her life, Y/N has come to make her final amends. Though the Astarion she fell for no longer exists, even the cold clutch of absolute power can't match true love.

This is sort of an AU! because in truth, Ascended Astarion would not give a single shit if you've left him at this point, sorry :D I just had to get this out of my head

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x fem!Reader; Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: talks of sickness (not specified), dying, death, swearing etc. Minimally edited :)

Word count: 5115

The day was much like any other in Baldur’s Gate – sunny without even a single wispy cloud in the sky, yet the Ancunin palace rose above all the rest like a beast in the night, drowning the houses in menacing shadows.

Matches, Y/N thought, to the person living inside.

Wrought iron gate surrounded the grounds, thorny rose vines looping through, while beautiful blooms opened towards the slowly moving star above.

This could’ve been her home, had she not said no. She shuddered to think what her life would’ve been like.

That had been almost five years ago. So much had changed during that time. It didn’t even feel like just half a decade had passed, it felt more like a century since Y/N had left Astarion. But she couldn’t stay with him. Not after he’d Ascended, completing the ritual he’d killed Cazador for, and became what he had always hated – a version of Cazador himself.

Her hand had barely touched the handle of the gates before it swung open on its own accord. Y/N shouldn’t be surprised by it, not with how much magic she’d seen and experienced during her travels, but still, such small things made their impact. Whether it was an invitation inside, or a trap only time would tell.

She didn’t have much of it, which is why she was there in the first place. Had that cursed sickness not been slowly taking over her body, eating away at it, cell by cell, Y/N would have dragged this final meeting with Astarion as far in the future as she could, but there were still friends she wanted to visit, places to see, no matter how limited her life had become.

With thinly veiled amazement, because she didn’t want to marvel at what surely was slave work, she walked down the gravel path towards the large double doors of the mansion, looking at the meticulously groomed gardens. Not even a single leaf was out of place. A bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. Where once she would’ve believed Astarion to be the one to care for these plants, now Y/N knew in her heart, he’d never stoop so low as to even get on one knee to prune a rose. Such a thing was below him nowadays. Let alone sleeping next to her on a bedroll.

When she stood face to face with the large carved oak doors, her heart picked up its rhythm. She couldn’t help it, as years of memories, of love won and lost, rushed through her mind. Slowly, she raised her hand to knock.

It took about half a minute for the doors to open, an unfamiliar face staring back at her.

A vampire spawn, eyes red and glowing, looking at her with a cocked head.

“Can I help you?” he asked, giving her an appraising glance.

Y/N let out a breath. “I’m here to see Astarion.”

“Master Ancunin is not taking any visitors. Not without a previous notice,” he said it almost with a sneer, but she just gave him a smile.

“Tell him an old friend has stopped by. From the times before.”

The vampire looked ready to scoff and throw the door closed in her face, but stopped as he was closing it, a recollection of something flashing across his features. Whether he recognised her as a hero of Baldur’s Gate, or maybe he recognised her from a story Astarion might’ve told didn’t matter, because whatever it was, hopefully would grant her this one meeting.

With that though, Y/N was left to wait outside, pretty much twiddling her thumbs. Astarion probably wouldn’t take it too kindly if she went and took a bloom, though it used to be something he did for her. He used to do so much for her…

About five minutes later, the same spawn appeared, opening the door and motioning for her to enter.

“Master Ancunin will be with you shortly.”

And once again, she was left awing at the hallway, this time completely alone. She guessed no one saw her as a threat, despite the fact she had felled many enemies, including the Absolute. But oh well. At least she didn’t have to awkwardly stand with a guard or something, trying to figure out what small talk to fill the silence with. This gave her a chance to have a look at her surroundings.

A grand staircase, looping up to both sides, stood in front of her, while the palace spiralled away to the right and left. The entrance itself was almost like a ballroom, and she was sure, Astarion had at least one, if not more. What would those look like? What would a ball itself in the Ancunin residence look like? Would there be dancing and singing? Would people be laughing?

She couldn’t imagine it. Not with how he had degraded her after Ascending, telling her to kneel, telling her he’d turn her into a spawn, not because he wanted to spend the rest of their eternities together, but because of the control he now wished to exert over her.

A vision of herself, a blood-red gown, her eyes matching the velvet he’d no doubt dress her in, flashed across her mind. And a beautiful pearl necklace cinched tightly, two large bite marks across the slant of the skin. A collar disguised as gems to tether her to him. One large gilded cage to keep her in.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t my darling, crawling back home.”

Astarion stood at the top of the staircase landing, bringing Y/N out of her pondering.

He was a vision, as he always had been, but now, were vulnerability and love had shone in his eyes, only wry amusement and cruelty were left in their place.

His steps echoed across the empty house as he made his way down, not taking his gaze away from her. Y/N could imagine how she looked to him – covered in dirt and dust from weeks of traveling, eyes hollowed by dark circles and hair a complete mess, skin cracked around her lips, its colour dull. Compared to his meticulously coifed locks, the intricate frock and trousers, and even his gem-covered boots, she was a disaster.

Despite the pain in her heart, Y/N managed a smile. “You look good, Astarion.”

He scoffed, coming to stand before her. “Of course, I look good. I always did. You just didn’t appreciate it. Have you come back to beg? I do like a bit of grovelling. Though after what you did, there might be more you have to do than just plead for me to take you back.”

She chuckled, shaking her head and looped her arm through his elbow, undoubtedly surprising him, as she took charge and led them to the left, no idea where the hallway was going to bring her to, otherwise she might start crying. “Tell me everything Astarion. I want to know how you’ve faired these past five years.”

Her nonchalance, her whole attitude had completely stunned him, something Y/N didn’t think she was capable of, but maybe it was good. Without having knocked him off balance a bit, he might’ve just turned her away, but she needed this conversation. This closure before the sickness took her.

Together they walked inside what turned out to be a dining room. Did he even need one? He didn’t eat human food, even though he was Ascended now, and could enjoy the tastes.

“I have to say,” he started, “I did not expect to see you again.”

Y/N sighed, looking at the paintings hung along the walls, at the gleaming chandeliers above. “Believe me, I did not expect to come either.”

“Then why are you here? If not to apologise for what you did, why bother wasting my time?”

The words stung, but she wasn’t going to tell him the real reason. It wouldn’t matter to him anyway. He told her he wished she died screaming, and though that might still be a possibility, it was more likely she would simply go to sleep one night and never wake up. “Because, although I do not believe I have anything to apologise for, I did wish to make amends. Life for us mortals, is so short… and the thought of living the rest of mine, without at least having tried, seemed… wrong.”

Astarion scoffed, but she could feel him tightening his elbow, as if he didn’t want her hand to slip from the crook it rested in. “I will not apologise for my decisions.”

“I am not asking you to,” Y/N said. “I simply wish for us to become friends once more. If only for the sake of sentimentality.”

“Sentiment,” Astarion sneered. “But what else can I expect from such a creature as a human.”

Y/N let out an amused huff, pressing down the real impact it left on her heart. He knew right where to cut, because when they’d been together during the tadpole adventure, she’d laid her soul bare to him. Told him all about her fears and hopes, how much of a hopeless romantic she was, so now, to tell her it was foolish to try and rekindle if only a friendship, was stupid… but she hadn’t expected more from this version of Astarion.

He’d already given much more time than she’d expected. Half of her had thought when the spawn would tell him who was at the door, he would take the chance and fulfil his words by killing her himself.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely. It’s what she’d told him when she’d tried to talk him out of the ritual. How he would be condemning seven thousand other lives. But he hadn’t cared. Astarion had believed he deserved the power, deserved to complete what Cazador couldn’t. Y/N couldn’t stand by and watch, nor would her conscience allow her to be by his side.

And so she’d left. Because there was nothing left of the man she’d fallen in love with. For these five years after, she’d avoided Baldur’s Gate, hearing from whispers and gossip how he’d risen in the ranks of politics and society, how brutal he could be to his servants and those who stood in his way, almost reminding her of when he’d talked about his Magistrate days, only amped to a hundred. A new, sickening Cazador at the helm.

“But how have you been, darling?” Astarion almost sounded bored as they moved into what passed for a living room in this palace, Y/N assumed. “What shenanigans have you caused?”

And so she told him. As a servant spawn brought a tea-set laying out two cups, though Astarion didn’t even pick his up, Y/N recounted how she’d gone all across the Sword Coast, had travelled over the seas and seen knew lands. How she’d done the things he’d promised they would do together.

“Sounds rather… dull,” he commented, lounging on the seat. “But I suppose to such simple minds and hearts as yours, it’s all very exciting and enthralling.”

She wanted to snap at him, remind how half of the ideas she’d completed, had been his, but instead, Y/N just took a deep breath. “Have you finally gotten everything you wanted, Astarion?” she asked instead. “Are you finally happy?”

That had been the true question plaguing her mind these past years.

He turned to look at her, eyes blazing. “I have power, status, people bow to my every whim. What more could I possibly want?”

“Then I’m happy for you,” she said, setting down her half-drunk tea. “Even if it means nothing to you anymore, I am happy you’ve finally gotten what you wished.”

An awkward silence settled between the two, and Y/N took it as her cue to wrap things up. “I best take my leave.”

“And where will you possibly go?” he sneered, but stood up alongside her, making their way back to the grand oak doors.

“Karlach and I are meeting up at a local tavern. And then we’re all going to the get together at Wyll’s. You would know that, had you come to the party Wither’s invited us all to.”

“And waste my time?” he scoffed. “No thanks. This conversation has done enough of that.”

By now they were at the doors, and Y/N turned around, taking in her final fill of the vampire. No doubt this would be the last time she ever saw him. “I hope you have a good life, Astarion. You deserve it. Despite how things went down between us, I do wish all the best for you.”

Slowly, she leaned up and pressed a kiss against his cheek. It was cold, but not as cold as she had been used to. No doubt he used every opportunity to lazy out in the sun, or feed on someone.

Just as she was about to exit, he grabbed her by the wrist, his hold tight and not something she’d be able to break out of.

Astarion’s scarlet eyes narrowed in on her, pulling her closer to him.

Y/N’s heart spiked. Was he really still that hurt, he would finally cash in on that revenge? She knew she would never be able to hurt him. No matter what, that romantic heart of hers would betray her.

He snapped her to his chest, her breath hitching in her lungs, as he leaned down by her neck and inhaled. Her frame was ramrod straight, not daring to move a muscle. When he finally moved back, anger and something else raged in his eyes. Was it… fear?

“Now, my dear, tell me the real reason you came here.”

“I -,”

“And don’t lie,” he hissed. “Because I can smell it on you. In your blood.”

“Smell what?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Death.” And Y/N had to be hallucinating, because she was sure she heard his voice crack. “Sickness and death runs through your veins. It’s – it’s like acid.”

“What’s it matter, Astarion? What would any of it change?”

“It would chan-,” but he stopped himself.

Y/N leaned a bit closer, her Y/E/C eyes narrowed, trying to decipher what she was seeing on that stony face, but pulled back, shaking her head. “Maybe you will finally get your wish and I will die screaming.”

By the look on his face, she understood Astarion did not appreciate the comment. “You dare enter my home, under the pretences of lies and deceit,” but his vile words didn’t match what she could see brewing underneath – despair. If only she was still naïve enough to believe he felt anything else but contempt for her. “I deserve to know the truth.”

“But you do know it.” Y/N shrugged. “So I’m going to ask you once again – what does the knowledge that I am dying, change? I would still die someday. Whether it is in a week or in half a century, I would still die. What’s it matter?”

“Had you not been stupid, and accepted my offer of becoming a spawn, you wouldn’t be in this mess,” Astarion spit, but didn’t release his grip.

“I did not come here to ask you to change me.” She placed her hand against where his heart should be beating, yet everything was still under her fingers. “I am not afraid of death. I am not happy its coming for me so quickly, but I would rather have my life end now, than live as a spawn.”

Hurt crossed his face. “Would living with me really be so repulsive to you?”

“Living as your slave would.” Y/N lifted her chin. “We would not be equals. You would never see me as the person I am, but rather as a thing to own. And I, for one, thought you would be the first person to understand why I would never choose such an option.”

This was not how she wanted them to part, but it seemed like it would once again leave them as enemies.

She pulled away from Astarion, and this time he let her.

“I hope one day you do understand my choices. Because as much as I disagree with yours, I have always accepted and understood them. Live Astarion, if only for yourself.”

Sunlight greeted her, as she opened the door, but she didn’t manage to put a single foot outside, when the vampire grabbed her by the nape of the neck, pulling her back in and slamming the door shut.

“I am sorry my dear, but that simply won’t do.”

Fear didn’t even get a chance to rush through her veins when everything went black.

It was a while before Y/N finally came to, but when she did, she was laid on a plush bed, body covered in a duvet, head resting against the softest pillow in the universe, and the sky outside was the violet of the setting day.

Horror struck her as her memories came to her – of Astarion pressing his palm against her nose and mouth, preventing her from breathing. Of how unconsciousness took over, while his red eyes glared at her fading form. But worse – the conversation they’d had right before that, about refusing to become a spawn.

Did he really hate her that much, he’d turn her against her will?

But instead of Astarion sitting in the room she found…

“Gale?” Y/N’s brow furrowed as she raised herself to her forearms on the mattress. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, you’re awake.” The wizard stood with a smile, walking to sit beside her. “How are you feeling?” He pressed a palm against her forehead, checking the temperature, and hummed when he deemed it to be normal.

“Fine,” she mumbled. “But again – what are you doing here?”

“Astarion called.”

“Astarion?” Y/N was befuddled. She would’ve assumed Gale would be the last person ever he would contact, well, last except for her. Especially if he’d turned her into a spawn. No doubt would their friends come to battle if they heard such a thing. And yet Gale seemed perfectly content in the vampire’s castle.

“He sent such a panicked message, I portaled here as quickly as the Weave would allow and-,”

Gale was stopped mid-sentence as the door clicked open.

But the man standing in the doorway wasn’t the Astarion she’d known before, the man she had fallen head over heels in love with, or even the Ascended Astarion she’d spoken to that day. No. This Astarion had eyes as bright green as freshly grown grass, cheeks red and full of life and the blunt incisors of a human, hope and shame shining in his irises.

She whipped her head to Gale. “What in the name of all the Hells did you two do?”

“We saved your life,” the now ex-vampire entered the room, his movements slow as if Y/N was a deer he would startle if he did anything quicker than the pace of a snail. “And I paid the price for it.”

She swallowed hard. “And what exactly was the price?”

“My immortality.”

Now, Y/N assumed she’d been cured as she was inclined to believe not only because of Astarion’s transformation, but because Gale so meticulously was counting her breaths and heartbeat, but that confession almost did take her out, the shock of it all.

She threw a wary glance at the wizard. “So – so I’m not a spawn?”

“No,” Astarion shook his head. “But I don’t blame you for believing I would do such a… vile thing.”

Heavy silence settled in the room when she finally turned to look at him. “But I thought you had everything you ever wanted.”

“I did so too,” he nodded. “But when I smelled it, that – that sickness in your blood… I guess it is true what they say – love is the most powerful magic of all. Because the thought of you dying – it did something to my head… my heart. I could not let that happen.”

Y/N surveyed him, the new person standing before her. “You gave up everything for me. All the power… everything…”

“I won’t lie – I almost gave into the temptation, I almost did bite you. But these past five years were… miserable. And the thought of living the rest of eternity with the knowledge you hated me before you died… it wasn’t something I could do. Even with all the power in the world, the one weakness I have never been able to rid myself of is you.”

Neither noticed Gale clear his throat and motion towards the door, and neither noticed how it shut behind the wizard, leaving them on their own.

She watched as Astarion crossed the room, and sat himself down at the very foot of the bed, eyes locked onto the fingers in his lap. He was still as graceful as ever, but no longer was there this predatory supernatural sense to it. Now he was more a ballet dancer, than a stalking panther.

“So what happens now?”

“Now,” he sighed. “Now I don’t know. I didn’t really think further than Gale performing the ritual and hoping it would be enough.”

“Am I… immortal now?”

“No,” Astarion shook his head, and his smile was so warm, it almost knocked her back down to the bed. “You’re as human, as human can be. Only healthy now. Hopefully with many a decade before you yet to be lived.”

“And you?” she had to address the elephant in the room. “What exactly are you now?”

“I,” he sighed and looked at the wall. No, not the wall, but a large mirror, his eyes boring into the ones of his reflection. “I am what I was before Cazador. As common as a high elf can be.”

“I just don’t understand,” Y/N said. “I don’t get why you would do such a thing. Seven thousand spawn died for you to gain all that power, for you to prove you could complete what Cazador couldn’t. How could you just throw it all away?”

Astarion sighed, standing up and moving to the other side of the room where a large open door stood, leading out to a balcony. He leaned against the railing, and Y/N finally got out of the bed.

She could feel the strength having returned to her muscles. No longer did they ache, no longer did her bones scream, no longer did she feel tired and weak. A new zeal of life had filled her, and she couldn’t get why Astarion had given it all up for her to – what? Live maybe just a couple of more decades?

Together they leaned on the marble railing, overlooking the lush gardens, the flowers now a duller colour, but still as beautiful in moonlight, as they were in the sun.

“For five years I imagined what I would do if you showed up on my doorstep,” Astarion started. “There were times I imagined taking you and putting you in chains, dragging you to a dungeon and inflicting unspeakable pain, because that’s how it felt when you left. I wanted to do nothing but hurt you. And then I imagined how you would have come to your senses, how you would come and beg me to turn you into a spawn, finally realising your place was always beside me.”

He looked at her. “But then you did turn up. And all I could do was barely hold it together and not kiss you then and there. When you said you were dying, but that it would be a better life than with me, something… something cracked. Whether it was my sense coming back to me, the part of my brain that made good decisions being released from a prison of power, I don’t know.” Astarion chuckled. “But the only thing running through my head was – the one person that has always loved you selflessly, is dying. And you’re a pathetic coward that can’t do anything to stop it.”

“When Gale told me there was a way to heal you, but it would cost me, somehow I didn’t even pause to think. I just told him to do it. If the price for you being able to live a fulfilled life was having my power, my immortality stripped away, he could’ve for all I cared, spilled all my blood and let me bleed dry. As long as it meant you were here – living and breathing.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s what you would’ve done. And I couldn’t be bested by a dying woman. Would turn you into a full martyr, and I couldn’t have someone outshining me like that.”

Y/N wiped at her eyes and cleared her throat, letting out a choked back laugh. “What was the ritual?”

“Apparently Gale had been looking at certain transfers of power for a while.” Astarion shrugged. “When I contacted him, I didn’t even have anything specific in mind, I just knew he would probably be the best at figuring out what, if anything, could be done. Of course, had the answer been negative, it would not have ended well for our dear wizard, but you understand my point.”

“Well, I am glad Gale is still in one piece.” Y/N looked at him as she slowly covered his palm with hers. Astarion’s breath hitched, when she intertwined their fingers. “And I am grateful to the both of you for what you did. But I will forever be in debted to you.”

“No,” Astarion shook his head, tightening his hold, as if terrified she’d slip away like sand. “There is no debt to be repaid. Actually, I think I should be the one thanking you. For showing up. For even thinking I was worth enough to say goodbye to, but I have to ask… Were you ever going to tell? Had I not smelled it on you, would you have ever told anyone? Because when I told Gale, he was so stunned, I almost thought he would join you and pass out.”

“No,” Y/N shook her head. “By the time I decided I had to see you at least once more before I… well, you know… I’d already met all of our friends individually. I had thought of asking Shadowheart if there was a spell maybe, but ultimately, no.”

“Why would you keep something like that to yourself?”

“I didn’t feel like burdening the others.” She shrugged her shoulders. “We’ve all gone through so much darkness, have so much else to worry about, I didn’t want to add more to that.”

“Surely you know those idiots would ride blindfolded into battle for you.”

“I do. But it’s not like I would want that. Besides… if those were to be my last days, I wanted them to be filled with joy and fun things. Not with Halsin worrying if such excitement was healthy for me, or Lae’Zel scolding me for certain decisions. And let’s not even mention Karlach who’d cross the world searching for a cure that might not even exist.”

“And you left me for last…”

Y/N bit down hard on her lip. “Because it took everything in me to get over the hurt. Get over what you did and said. Because I was terrified you would slam the door in my face if I showed up.”

A tear rolled down his own cheek, as he bit the inside of it. “A fair assumption. And maybe if you’d come earlier, I would have. But… deep down I knew, I would have done everything to try and make you stay. Even through the haze of that power… my heart has always been yours. And still is. If you will have it.”

The words coming out of her mouth hurt, but they had to be said, despite how ardently she wished to say yes and return to how things were. But she knew she couldn’t neither of them could. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Astarion.” She could see him visibly shrink down, tears now unabated as they flowed like rivers from his eye. He wanted to pull away, but she didn’t let him, holding onto his hand tighter, running a soothing thumb over his hand, so warm and alive under her touch, it made her sigh.

“You’ve just regained yourself.” Y/N tried to give what was an endearing smile, but was probably more a grimace. “You’ve just become an elf again… there is so much you need to grasp and realise… I don’t think a relationship is what would be good right now.”

Two green eyes met her Y/E/C ones. Gods, the colour was so gorgeous, she felt like drowning in his gaze. “The only thing I was ever sure of in my life was you. Even as an Ascended bastard. And then I blew it. Absolutely smashed my chance to pieces like an idiot, but… if you’ll allow it. I would like another try. If only at being someone worthy to stand by your side.”

Y/N felt her lips quirk up. “Would it be overtly presumptuous of me to think, that by the end of it, you would wish to be more than friends?”

“If I am only allowed to be your friends, I will fall to my knees before you and beg for the chance. But no longer will I lie and say my true intentions aren’t to hopefully, one day, get on one knee, and wish for a shared life.”

She had not seen such a version of Astarion, so candid and vulnerable, since leaving him. And for him to be so open, made some resolve in her melt a bit. “We can try. Slowly.”

It was like a boulder had rolled off Astarion’s chest, his whole body visibly shuddering in relief, before he tentatively, as if waiting for her rejection, weaved a hand around her waist.

She rested her head against his shoulder, revelling in the feeling of him pressing his cheek to the top of it. And when he tilted her chin up, a hopeful gaze in his eyes as it slipped to her lips, she didn’t stop him when he pressed his mouth to hers.

It was like surfacing for a breath after years of being pulled down in an abyss, something Y/N never thought she’d be able to do again. And that kiss – it was filled with so much love, she didn’t need oxygen to breathe.

There was still a world of hurt between then, a universe of making up to be done, but they had time. They had all the time they wanted or could need.

“To a new start, my love.” She muttered against his lips, and the smile Astarion gave her was more brilliant than the moon and stars shining in the sky combined.

“And to a life worth living.”

The next kiss they shared sure as hells was.

Tags:

Astarion tags: @spacebarbarianweird @omggiannarosa @poisonquinzell @iffazu @alisoncdariel

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstrange

A/N: My tags are always open

Please don't repost onto other platforms! That is called plaigarism :)

I also had an idea of writing this from Astarion's POV, so if that is something of interest, do let me know :)

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nyashykyunnie · 2 months

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˗ˏˋ Pirate King! Jinwoo x Siren! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 033 ✦ ┆・

[ TW: Yandere Jinwoo, Violence , all Shadows Mentioned are in Human Form ]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Part 1 || Part 2 ♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

╰┈➤ ❝ [ I'll Bind Myself To You Over and Over ] ¡! ❞

Jinwoo continued to look for another week, but for some weird reason— The sea was incredibly calm.

Too calm.

It was maiing Jinwoo very restless, and his crew could see it. Igris tried to reason with Bellion and Beru to do something, anything to make their captain stop pacing back and forth on the dock. Even Iron couldn't do anything and would only take over the wheel.

No one in the ship knew what to do, even Tusk's famous fish stew wasn't doing it.

...

"Iron." Jinwoo's strict voice suddenly says as he strides towards the wheel.

The man didn't say much and only moved aside as their captain took over and suddenly spun the wheel rapidly.

"Bring down the sails!" He orders, and everyone suddenly scrambled on their feet to prepare the sails.

They didnt know what was on Jinwoo's mind, but they could tell that determined expression on the man's face was deadly.

"Captain, there's one far ahead on the east!" Kaisel reports.

"Get everyone ready, I want that ship." Jinwoo simply said as he had Kaisel take over. "We wont use the cannons.

There was a hammering feeling inside Jinwoo since early morning, and it was bothering him way too much.

His breathing had been erratic since then, he's never been this anxious even when he faced the holy emperor in the palace and had the old bastard bowing on his feet soon after.

But that's a story for another day.

That's not what's important right now, Jinwoo just knew, he needed that damn ship.

His instincts were never wrong, that's why he was crowned as the pirate king. Jinwoo's gut feeling have never failed him.

And for some reason, the direction of the ship is nagging the living hell out of it.

Jinwoo's grey gaze would land on his men who were utterly confused on why he ordered them not to use the cannons.

"There's something on that ship that I need," He simply said

"An illegal ship, sir?" Bellion asks as he handed Jinwoo his gun.

"Yes." Jinwoo confirms. "Whatever the hell is on that ship, I need it."

There were no further questions asked as the rest of the crew brandished their swords and loaded their guns.

The people on the other ship noticed the mother ship approaching and panicked, blaring the sirens— Warning the rest.

Pure chaos.

But soon, their expressions would pale as a rain of ropes suddenly blasted from the air and hooks embedded themselves on the wooden floors.

Thunderous, proud roars would come from the invading shifts as well as maddened cackles resounds. A bunch of wild pirates would come, climbing the ropes while behind them were gunfire— Preventing the defending parties to take time and prepare as bullets flew by and making men collapse here and there as psychopaths invaded the docks and started stabbing strangers; mauling them into pieces.

"...." Jinwoo's gaze was still steadfast, only firing a few bullets as he walked on the rope hurriedly.

His kids can do whatever the hell he wants, he needed to be somewhere else.

"Secure the ship, get the captain on his knees. If he runs, break his legs" Jinwoo commands, shoving a bloodied sword on Igris's chest as he passed by him.

He didnt even think twice to properly open the door and just shot the handle open, as well as gunning down some baffled crewmates inside the rooms.

Jinwoo continued to walk, his steps heavy and fast with purpose. slamming open some doors, unlocking gates before reaching the very end of the ship.

Blood splatters were on his face now, painting a wicked

Right at the very bottom, inside this giant moss-covered aquarium was a hand peeking on the little glass.

"...." He takes a deep breath, placing his palm against the glass were that small hand peeked.

There, a small light would come out as a warm feeling spread through his chest right where his injuries are.

"There you are, my bride" He whispers, jumping on top of the aquarium and hanging on the ledge as he lunged his arm inside the dirty waters where another palm would grasp his.

Jinwoo pulled the figure up, his other arm wrapping around the other's waist as he kissed the side of their head.

He felt as if that a heavy burden finally lifted off of his shoulders. But as much as Jinwoo wanted to just bask in the moment, he noticed the siren's tail was almost bald in some spots— Lacking tose fluorescent scales and instead a few gashes would come into view and his gaze would harden.

Jinwoo shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around his siren before hoisting them out of the filthy aquarium.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Up in the docks, the floorboards was pooled with blood as Beru overlooked his crewmates celebrating their small impromptu ship invasion.

He would beam as he hears the door behind him creak and Jinwoo figure would emerge but his mouth would form a thin line as he sees the glare on Jinwoo's face.

Beru swears, that maybe he saw purple in that hardened gaze.

He knew that look so well, it was the type of face Jinwoo made when he rescued his sister from the clutches of the holy family.

Jinwoo is out for blood.

"A siren..." Igris whispers as he sees the humanoid in Jinwoo's arms wrapped in his coat.

"That captain, the damn bastard" Jinwoo snarls, his tone riddled with venom. "I want him in the dungeon. Have Iron prepare my equipment and station him there until I come there."

He then continues, "Igris, Tusk, with me. Bellion will take over from here and Kaisel will watch the ship."

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

You didnt know what really happened, you were just resting on a rock after hunting for the whole day when there was a sharp pain on the back of your head. The next thing you knew, you were strapped on a bed with your delicate scales being plucked out forcefully as the humans laughed at your display of pain.

Your shrieks would be ignored as they wore something over their ears while cotinuing to take one scale after another.

The torture was long, you couldn't even count how many have passed as you were in and out of conciousness the whole time.

The humans who captured you didnt even have the heart to give you a proper meal and only tossed some bland seaweed to the poorly kept tank.

You swore, you were about to die— Until a familiar warm hand grasped yours and yanked you out of the dirty waters. Your eyes had been too heavy for you to open, and neither could you make out the sounds around you.

All you knew— Was that you are safe and sound.

The next time you opened your eyes, you are cuddled up in this soft... White things hugging your body, as well as a pair of grey eyes gazing into you.

Initially, you freaked out, thrashing about but the man gently held your shoulders to keep you steady.

"Hey, hey, ssh, it's okay," His voice would register, and your gaze would look up to see him. "Look at me, look at me, do you know who I am? Hmm?"

You can understand him.

Alarmed and curious, you reach your hand out to touch his cheek, and the man only responds by nuzzling your palm and kissing it.

A familiar gesture, a gesture a small human boy did when you were younger.

Jinwoo.

"Remember me?" Jinwoo asks again, and you nod your head.

He lets out a relieved sigh and pulls you in for an embrace.

"I've been looking all over for you, my bride" He whispers so tenderly, kissing your cheek while rubbing your back. "Look at you, my siren, you're so pretty now. But they hurt you so bad, hmm? I'm sorry, I should've come earlier, love. I really am, but it's okay, you're okay. I'm here. I wont leave, I promise."

His gentle voice stirs something in your chest, and you could only respond by nuzzling him further while making soft broken sounds.

"Ssh," Jinwoo hushes you, rubbing your head. "Tusk said that you'll need more rest, sirens heal slower than humans. But since you're bonded to me, it should speed things up"

He pulls back, fixing your hair as you looked down and saw a blanket on top of you, but underneath wasnt a tail.

"It's legs," He chuckles, kissing your cheek. "It must be because you're near me, but don't worry, we can get your tail back. We just... erm... Need to figure it out. We'll do that once you're better, yeah?"

He cooes, peppering your face with more pecks that brought out a giggle in your lips. Jinwoo takes your hand, placing it on his chest where the mark was.

"Go to sleep now, I'll be here in the morning and the day after. Even in the following days" He whispers, gently tucking you back in as he did. "Don't worry about anything else, clear your mind."

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

"Captain, the hostage is awake" Kaisel knocks on the door gently. "Your equipment has also been brandished."

"Good," Jinwoo hums, running his hand on your hair before getting up. "Watch over my siren. Should the pretty thing wake up while I'm in the dungeon, call me immediately."

He continues, "After this, I'll host a party for all of you."

Kaisel simply nods, smiling as he watches the captain got out of the quarters.

His gaze would turn cold in an instant, Jinwoo marched down to the dungeon area of the ship with his fists tightly closed.

That bastard dared to actually hurt you, your injuries were so extensive that your tail was almost grey from the abuse. When it turned into legs— Anyone would have vomit at the sight of cuts and peeled skin. It took so much willpower for Jinwoo not to have broke down as Igris, Tusk and Beru worked together in patching your injuries.

"I wonder what kind of scalpel you used" Jinwoo hums, running his hand along the neatly arranged set of daggers on the table as Iron dragged the bastard on the floor in front of his captain. "Scalpels are too delicate, making them very useless on the field."

He then picks up pliers, making the man squirm and sob on his gag as he attempts to crawl away but Iron kept him steady.

"Easy there, buddy" Jinwoo chuckles, his grey orbs turning into monarch purple. "I haven't even started yet,"

He then sits down on the chair prepared for him.

"For every scale you plucked out of my bride's tail, for every single day you kept that pretty doll captive, for every second you spent making them writhe in pain— I will make sure you experience all of it tenfold if not a hundred."

꒰ A/N: Mentally so exhausted I think I'm on writer's block wheeze. I should write for another character for the meantime until I get my creative juices on Jinwoo back. Tysm to you @sylusjinwoon for this request uueeeee. I hope u like it bestie<33!!! Anyway, next fic is either gonna be a Baek Dohwa Fic or a Dr. Zayne fic. ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

#∞ ₒ ˚ ° 📎— kyunnya speaks #sung jinwoo #sung jin woo #solo leveling #solo leveling headcanons #solo leveling jinwoo #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #only i level up #ore dake level up na ken #sung jinwoo headcanons #sung jinwoo fics

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videogamepolls · 2 months

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Video Games Polls 6-Month Report

To celebrate 6 months of this blog and 1,291 games polled, I wanted to share the top 10 games across each of the four options included in my polls.

🏆 Most Played

Games with the highest percentage of "Yes" votes:

Pac-Man (1980) - 93.4%

Tetris (1985) - 86.9%

Pokemon Go (2016) - 82.9%

Minecraft (2011) - 81.1%

Stardew Valley (2016) - 79.3%

Space Invaders (1978) - 78.5%

The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim (2011) - 72.2%

Kahoot! (2013) - 72.2%

Super Smash Bros. Ultimate (2018) - 70.5%

Among Us (2018) - 70.0%

🏆 Most Unplayed

Games with the highest percentage of "No" votes:

Raid: Shadow Legends (2018) - 85.8%

Halo Infinite (2021) - 77.6%

Baldur's Gate (1998) - 76.1%

Baldur's Gate II: Shadows of Amn (2000) - 75.8%

Call of Duty (2003) - 75.2%

Counter Strike 2 (2023) - 74.9%

Valorant (2020) - 74.7%

Donkey Kong 3 (1983) - 74.5%

The Last of Us: Part II (2020) - 74.4%

Assassin's Creed Valhalla (2020) - 73.9%

🏆 Most Watched

Games with the highest percentage of "I watched someone play it" votes:

I Am Bread (2015) - 51.3%

Octodad: Dadliest Catch (2014) - 47.0%

P.T. (2014) - 41.0%

Raft (2022) - 38.3%

The Convenience Store (2020) - 38.1%

Façade (2005) - 38.0%

Iron Lung (2022) - 36.0%

Papers, Please (2013) - 35.4%

Until Dawn (2015) - 35.2%

Detroit: Become Human (2018) - 35.0%

🏆 Most Obscure

Games with the highest percentage of "I've never heard of it" votes:

Just, Bearly (2018) - 96.9%

Anito: Defend a Land Enraged (2003) - 96.6%

That Damn Goat (2023) - 96.5%

Mr. Robot and His Robot Factory (1983) - 96.1%

Turovero: The Celestial Tower (2017) - 95.8%

I am Magicami (2020) - 95.8%

Weird and Unfortunate Things are Happening (2020) - 95.5%

The Unholy War (1998) - 95.2%

Yanya Caballista: City Skater (2001) - 94.9%

Dark Scavenger (2012) - 94.5%

*I did not take most Pokémon games into consideration since I handle those polls a little differently.

Check out my results spreadsheet for an alphabetized list of all poll results plus some other stats.

#let me know if this is something yall want me to do more often #video games #gaming #video game polls #polls #tumblr polls #report

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the-fiction-witch · 3 months

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Lady Ayrnn

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Daemon Targaryen Couple - Daemon X Reader Reader - Lady Y/n Ayrnn (Blind) Rating - Sweet Word Count - 1167

I stood in the chamber they had supplied us with, and I felt the warmth of the fire against the left of my face. Feeling the stroke of cold leather gloves of my handmaidens against my skin as they dressed me slipping up the soft cotton stockings from my toes to my thighs and folding them over at the top, they guided my hands above my head as they pulled down the silk shift the hem settling just below my knees and my wrists, softly sliding my feet into the slightly pinching shoes. I gasped as my corset was slipped onto me and tightly laced around me having to roll my shoulders to prevent my annoyed face, and the cotton petticoats quickly wrapped around my now thinner waist.

“My lady,” Melina my handmaiden spoke running her gloved hands on my own,

I nodded and ran my hands over the underdress selected for me feeling the dark blue velvet, and slowly I felt it being slipped down over me and down to my ankles, next were silver organza sleeves from my wrists to my shoulders slightly scratchy to the touch.

I ran my hand so slowly over my favourite part, my outer dress a deep blue button with metallic white and silver embroidered birds and moons. I slipped both arms through it and attached the metal clasp at the front of my waist, letting the skirt flow to my feet open to expose the velvet below.

Once this was on a maiden brushed my hair and pulled it into an intricate braid setting a blue and silver headband on top, while the others gave my dress small adjustments before finally attaching my dress front to a large velvet blue panel with my house sigil embroidered on it, slipping it into metal clips on my outer dress,

I sighed when their hands finally moved away,

“You look beautiful my lady,” Melina told me,

“Thank you,” I nodded as I took my stick in hand feeling the craved bird handle in the wood, “shall we begin?”

“Yes my lady,” My handmaiden agreed and I heard the doors to the chamber open,

“Take my arm, my lady,” Melina offered,

“No thank you, Today… I must walk alone,” I answered tapping her hand before I began my slow and tender steps tapping my stick as I walked making sure to learn each stone I walked on as I made my way through the unfamiliar red keep.

I walked as best I could being tender and tentative with every single step, I held my breath as I heard the doors be opened,

“Lady Y/n Arynn, Heir to the Vale, the Eyriee and gates of the moon.” The guard introduced “Betrothal to Prince Daemon Targaryen, Lord of Dragonstone and Heir to the Iron Throne,”

I began my steps making sure to keep my stick as hidden by my dress as I could even if I still needed it, my handmaidens followed behind me,

As I walked across the aged hall I heard gasps, whispers, and mutterings but I kept my chin high and walked.

I felt my stick touch the stone steps of the throne so I stopped and curtsied low almost to my knees but as I tried to push myself back up my stick slipped dropping onto the floor sending me tumbling down, I heard choked laughter from the others of the hall. But I forced it away and tapped my hand around the cold stone trying to find it, luckily I did. So I quickly got to my feet and brushed off my dress without assistance.

“Lady Arynn, your beauty proceeds you,” King Viserys spoke,

“Thank you, your grace. I am honoured to be in your presence and that of the Red Keep and kings landing,” I spoke up,

“Such a shame you cannot fully enjoy it,” He said,

I grit my teeth, “It is a shame your grace, but perhaps I shall enjoy elements others would not,”

“I imagine so my lady,” He said,

I heard heavy steps move closer and a callus hand stroke mine his skin was warm and even if his skin was hard and rough he moved it so sweetly, “It is a pleasure to finally meet you lady Arynn,” his voice thick with charm,

“Prince Daemon I presume?” I asked,

“You presume correctly,” He chuckled, “What gave me away?” “Lucky guess I suppose,” I blushed, “It is lovely to finally meet you,”

“Shall we go, speak privately?”

I nodded and held his arm feeling the leather of his doublet sleeve, as we walked I could imagine him dressed up in Targaryen red and black, his silver blonde hair long and well braided, he led me out to the courtyard and I felt the grass tickle my ankles, he took me to a small seat under a canopy from the sun we spoke of simple pleasantries until the conversation turned where I of course knew it would,

“... Forgive me,” he said, “I was unaware of your…”

“Most are not privy to it,” I admit,

“How much can you see?”

“I see some colours, some light, sometimes shapes depending on the light behind them,” I admit,

“But everything else?”

“Darkness.”

“I see,” He said, “How do you see me?” He asked,

“I don’t much, I can guess given what I have heard.” I blushed, “But… if I may?” I offered my hand,

“You may,” He said,

So I moved my hand to his doublet feeling the warm leather, stroking my fingers over the metal dragon clasps, running up his neck feeling the heat of his skin far softer than his hands, I ran across his jaw and up his cheeks being gently and trying to also be respectful of the man I just met as I trailed my fingertips and knuckles to learn the curves of his face,

“You see with your hands?”

“I more just… learn the shapes to visualize it in my mind,” I smiled as I stroked his hair noticing it was far shorter than I had imagined,

“And?”

“What do you think of my face?” he asked and I could feel his smile against my hands,

I chuckled, “It… its very handsome,”

“I must say, you are very beautiful,”

I blushed, “Thank you,”

“All except your eyes,” He said,

My heart sank but I nodded my chin falling as I tried not to feel upset by his words, but his hand took my chin and pushed it up once more so he could better see my eyes,

“I think they’re gorgeous,”

“You do?”

“I do,” he nodded taking my hands in his and giving them a soft kiss, “The most unique eyes I have ever seen,”

“Thank you,” I smiled, “You uhh you do not have to worry..”

“About?”

“Our… our children it is not genetic,”

“I wouldn’t mind even if it was,” he said, “Then our children would be as beautiful as their mother,”

I did my best to hide my blush,

“You shall make a wonderful bride Y/n,” He cooed,

“I… I am sure you shall make a lovely husband Daemon,” I nodded,

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onegianthotmess · 3 months

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I headcanon that Malleus can’t touch iron because it burns him, just like how it burns Maleficent in the 2014 movie-

Everyone thinks Diasomnia Dorm is covered in black iron fences and sconces and gates when it’s actually some sort of obsidian reinforced steel that looks very similar to iron.

Also, fae weapons are made with the same steel for handles and refined and reinforced obsidian blades so they don’t get burned by their own weaponry.

This also means that Lilia and Sebek can’t touch iron either unless they want to get burned. Sebek is probably a bit more resistant to iron, considering that he’s half human, but it still burns him.

Silver always worries a lot whenever Lilia accidentally comes into contact with iron and always frets over the burns while Lilia is smiling and trying to cheer up his son because he doesn’t like seeing him upset.

#twst #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #diasomnia #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #silver vanrouge #sebek zigvolt

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dluxdekor1 · 23 days

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Shop High-Quality Cast Iron Drawer Pulls and Iron Gate Handles for Rustic Style!

If you’re looking to add a touch of vintage charm or rustic elegance to your home, Cast iron drawer pulls and gate handles are a fantastic choice. These small yet impactful pieces of hardware can completely transform the look of your furniture, giving it a timeless and sturdy appeal. In this article, we'll explore the benefits of using these unique pulls, the different styles available, and where to find high-quality options that suit your home decor.

Why Choose Cast Iron Hardware?

These hardware are popular for many reasons, particularly among those who appreciate vintage and rustic styles. Here are some of the key benefits:

Durability and Strength

Iron is a highly durable material, making it perfect for drawer/gate hardware that is used frequently. Unlike other materials that may wear out or break over time, iron can withstand daily use, ensuring your hardware lasts for years.

Classic and Timeless Appeal The dark, solid appearance of iron adds a classic and timeless look to any piece of furniture. Whether you’re updating an old dresser, cabinet, or chest, these pulls can enhance the vintage or rustic vibe of your interior.

Versatile Design Options Iron drawer & gate pulls come in a variety of styles and designs, from simple and sleek to ornate and decorative. This versatility makes it easy to find the perfect style to match your home decor, whether you prefer a minimalist look or an intricate, antique-inspired design.

Easy to Install Most of these pulls are straightforward to install, requiring just a few basic tools. This makes them a popular choice for DIY enthusiasts who want to update their furniture without professional help.

Affordable Upgrade Changing out drawer hardware is a cost-effective way to give your furniture a new look. Instead of buying new pieces, simply replacing old or worn-out pulls with high-quality iron options can breathe new life into your home decor.

Popular Styles of Cast Iron Pulls

When it comes to choosing this type of hardware, there are many styles to consider. Here are some popular options that work well with vintage and rustic themes:

Classic Cup Pulls: These are half-moon-shaped pulls that offer a traditional and sturdy look. They are often used in kitchens and bathrooms for a farmhouse feel.

Ring Pulls: Featuring a circular handle, ring pulls add an old-world charm to any piece of furniture. They are commonly used on dressers and cabinets for a rustic, antique effect.

Ornate and Decorative Pulls: For a more intricate design, consider ornate pulls with floral or scroll patterns. These designs add elegance and sophistication to vintage furniture pieces.

Simple Bar Pulls: For a more minimalist approach, simple bar pulls offer a clean and straightforward look that complements both modern and rustic interiors.

Drop Pulls: These pulls have a handle that drops down from a backplate, creating a classic look that suits antique and vintage-style furniture.

Where to Shop for High-Quality Cast Iron Hardware

Finding the right place to buy this type of hardware is crucial to ensure quality and style. Here are some top options:

Dlux Dekor

If you’re looking for something with a unique and artistic touch, Dluxdekor offers a curated collection of iron gate handles and drawer pulls. While they may be a bit pricier, the quality and distinct designs make them worth considering for those who want a statement piece.

Etsy Etsy is a fantastic marketplace for finding handmade and unique drawer pulls crafted from iron. You can explore various designs by artisans, making it a great place to find one-of-a-kind pieces that stand out. Whether you want simple designs or something more decorative, Etsy has a wide selection to suit any taste.

Amazon Amazon offers a broad range of these pulls in different styles and sizes. With its extensive selection and customer reviews, it’s easy to compare products and find high-quality options that fit your needs and budget.

Wayfair Known for its home decor options, Wayfair provides a variety of iron hardware that caters to different styles, from rustic to modern. Their user-friendly website allows you to filter by style, size, and price, making it simple to find what you’re looking for.

Home Depot For those who prefer shopping in person, Home Depot offers a selection of cast iron options, including drawer pulls. They provide durable and budget-friendly options, making it a convenient choice for homeowners and DIY enthusiasts.

Signature Hardware Signature Hardware is an excellent choice for those looking for premium and high-quality options. Their collection features detailed craftsmanship and elegant designs, perfect for adding a luxurious touch to any room.

Tips for Choosing the Right Iron Handles / Pulls

When selecting iron gate handles and drawer pulls for your furniture, consider the following tips:

Match the Style: Choose pulls that complement the overall style of your furniture. For a vintage or antique look, go for ornate or ring pulls. For a more modern rustic style, simple bar or cup pulls work well.

Check the Size: Make sure the size of the hardware fits the furniture piece. Large, bold pulls might overwhelm a small drawer, while tiny pulls may look out of place on a large cabinet.

Quality Matters: Look for high-quality pulls that are well-made and have a durable finish to prevent rusting or tarnishing over time.

Consider the Finish: Iron pulls can come in various finishes, such as matte black, aged bronze, or natural iron. Choose a finish that matches the existing hardware in your space for a cohesive look.

Conclusion

Cast iron drawer pulls are a fantastic choice for adding a vintage or rustic touch to your home decor. With their durability, timeless appeal, and variety of styles, they are both functional and decorative. Whether you shop on Etsy, Amazon, Wayfair, or other reputable stores, you’ll find a wide range of high-quality options to suit your style and budget. Start your search today and give your furniture the classic upgrade it deserves!

#castirondrawerpulls #irongatehandles #castironcabinetpulls #castirondoorhandles

#cast iron cabinet pulls #cast iron drawer pulls #cast iron door handles #wrought iron hardware for cabinet #iron gate handles #iron cabinet hardware

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ozzgin · 9 months

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Baldur's Gate 3 Monster Headcanons

I have some companion headcanons I’m working on, but please tell me I’m not the only one howling for some monster content. NSFW under the cut because I’m about to be quite shameless. Hear me out, I’m on my knees. I’m talking about…

Being passed around by a pack of feral gnolls that have tracked you down by scent and just trashed apart anyone else that stood in their way. Having to hold onto their manes because otherwise you’d be slammed into the ground from their aggressive handling. You can tell they enjoy toying with you from the occasional hyena screech that escapes their drooling snouts. Don’t worry, they wouldn’t kill their scrumptious darling, but you’re sturdy enough to bear a little biting and scratching, aren’t you?

Being ravaged by a reanimated hook horror in the hollow colds of the Underdark. You had hoped you could use it in the upcoming battle, except it took a sudden and unstoppable interest in you instead. You can only dig your hands into the harsh rocky ground, your whimpers and its guttural clicking being the only sounds echoing across this cavernous place. Your flesh hurts from being held down by its sharp appendages, but other things are currently overwhelming your senses.

Feeling the cool and moist texture of the Myconid hands exploring your body, too curious about the ways of a flesh-walker and tongue-talker. The Kin Spirit that protected their circle and exterminated all threats. You have been generously rewarded for your brave deeds; nonetheless this final parting gift also satisfies their interest of getting to know a physical being to such personal degree. A fascinating sight, witnessing your reactions, as their deep unnerving voice commands you into obedience.

Squirming under the slithering tentacles of an illithid having his way with you, paralyzed under his low jarring voice reverberating against the walls of your skull. Although as he makes his way inside of you, you begin to realize you were never really under his control. The only thing keeping you in place was the dizzying pleasure. You can almost sense him smirk against your skin once the truth settles in. You're almost tempted to beg for more, but as you open your mouth you remember he has already read your innermost thoughts and desires.

Being pinned against the wall by the colossal Minotaur that suddenly rushed through the opened gates of the Outpost. You were taken by surprise and couldn’t even draw your weapon or cast a spell. Your arms are limp under the iron grip of his massive clawed hand and your plan to escape was interrupted by the feeling of your clothes being torn to shreds. It seems that killing you wasn’t his intent. The hot breath tickles your bare skin and you pray whatever is about to enter you won’t split your insides.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 headcanons #bg3 monsters #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #monster smut #monster x reader #monster fucker #terato #teratophillia #illithid #minotaur #gnoll #hook horror #myconid

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chelseypprimrose · 1 year

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Home Movie / Negan x Reader / S7 / 18+

Warnings: daddy kink, oral, unprotected/rough sex, slight dom!negan, talk of masturbation, Negan references himself as “the big bad wolf” (cringe but I love it), creampie, forbidden attraction, talk of voyerism, use of derogatory language, glove/leather kink (slightly)

Summary: Negan finds a smut tape of you on the video camera at Alexandria and makes it his mission to seek you out.

A/N: I got this idea in my head while I was watching the episode of season 7 where the saviours first visit Alexandria with Negan and he finds Rick’s confessional video as he’s emptying the houses out. also inspired by another Negan series called Polaroids by @reevesdriver on here as it’s one of my faves ever! 🫶🏼 I just had to write a Negan imagine in the TWD universe again bc as much as I like pre apocalypse Negan, I needed to write apocalypse Negan because there isn’t anything sexier to me than a murderous man swinging a barbed wire bat and talking about his dick, hope u enjoy 🤍 x

“Goddamn it.” You huffed out, a long breath leaving your lips as you shoved the deer that was on your shoulders further up to prevent yourself from dropping it on the ground. You’d been gone since the crack of dawn, with Daryl gone at this point in time, you were one of the best hunters that Alexandria still had. While you felt some type of way about putting in so much effort for someone else to just take the shit you’d risked your life for, you knew Rick needed people on his side at the moment. It would be foolish to try and be defiant right now, too much blood had been spilt recently and you didn’t want to be the reason it continued. Yeah, you’d played your part in the attack on the outpost but you’d all been in acceptance that it was just that outpost. That once that was cleared, you were rid of the foreboding threat that was the Saviours. How wrong you’d been in that moment, it was only the beginning.

You were now dealing with the aftermath of Negan, having to risk life and limb, bend over backwards to make him happy, the asshole. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’d had to hold your tongue to stop yourself from verbally berating his people, knowing what the consequences of giving them a piece of your mind would be. You hadn’t been there when he had killed Abe and Glenn, only hearing the horrid, sordid details after the fact.

The blood from the deer that you’d managed to kill was seeping into your white tee, making your shoulders feel sticky and matting up in the tips of your hair. You signalled a high pitched whistle, waiting for the large dark beige gate to be opened, allowing you enter back into Alexandria. Your eyes found the large sign, “Alexandria Safe Zone: Mercy for the Lost. Vengeance for the Plunderers.” You scoffed, how fucking ironic. The gate began to be moved, revealing three large vans parked up just a couple feet away from the entrance, the Saviour vans. “For fuck sake.” You thought, what could that bastard want with you now, you couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous.

“Negan, you’ll want to see this.” Negan turned to look at the saviour approaching him, holding out a small silver video recorder. “Well, what do we have here Grimes? Got my fingers crossed for a little freaky deaky!” He grinned, crossing his fingers in front of Rick’s face. He slid his hand into the leather handle of the camera, a video of Rick coming into view, looking a lot more threatening than he did now. He could barely make out it was Rick, with the massive beard grown on his face he wasn’t used to seeing. “Woah! Is that you? Underneath all that man bush? Holy shit, I would have not of messed with that guy… but you aren’t that guy anymore. Are you Rick?” He grinned, Rick stood with a stern look on his face, not moving. Negan continued to watch the interview, Rick speaking candidly about the amount of people that he’d killed. The video started to go static, indicating there was a tape that had been recorded on top of the original. Negan’s eyebrows furred in confusion, before his eyes widened at what the camera had blessed his eyes with. He watched as you were stood in-front of the camera, a light pink lace open cut babydoll set on, your breast sat in the cups, nipples on show for the camera. You started posing for the camera, running your hands through your hair, holding it up Pam Anderson style. A large sexy smile on your lips, turning to do a 180 spin, your smooth backside coming into view for the camera, Negan pulling the camera closer to his face, almost not believing what he was seeing. He didn’t recognise you, maybe it had been someone that used to be in Alexandria, wasn’t a member anymore. He growled lowly, that would be just his luck, the sexiest woman he’d seen in recent history just missed by a couple weeks. He moved his attention back to the camera, now watching you spread out on the bed, playing with your nipples while starting to rub your folds underneath your panties before the camera cut out, showing Rick’s interview once again.

“Fuck! Just when it was getting good!” He cursed, snapping the cameras screen back into place. A fire now in his stomach, his jeans now contracting around his hard bulge. He couldn’t get you out his mind, he knew he’d remember if he’d come across you before, so who the hell were you?

You’d managed to get the deer half way back to your house before being stopped by one of Negan’s minions, asking what you were doing. You ignored him, just wanting to get back, the saviour hadn’t liked that, grabbing you by the waist, dragging you towards the circle of people that were gathered around one of the vans. You could hear Rick talking about some guns that he’d found, apparently Negan thought you were trying to stash items, to prevent having to hand them over to his people.

“Negan. Got a rude bitch here for you, was about to run home, sneak this thing back with her.” You slightly rolled your eyes. “How am I meant to sneak a deer back, smartass?” You questioned, not believing someone could be so stupid. The man’s face contorted into a rage fuelled look, his hand raising up to you, before he had the chance, Negan whistled. “Hey! We don’t raise a hand to a woman, you know the fucking rules.” He stepped forward, now coming into full view of you, his eyes glancing over your body, looking like a kid on Christmas. You were still here, he couldn’t believe his luck. Lucille sat on his shoulder, his one gloved hand wrapped tightly around the bottom of the wood. “Now I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Negan.” He smirked, holding his free hand out for a handshake, his large frame towering slightly over you. You were met with a slight musk, you recognised it as an old spice fragrance, masculine and powerful. You looked at it, questionable look on your face before your hand met his, engulfing you from the size of it. His rough skin a stark contrast from the softness of yours, the movement felt foreign, you shouldn’t feel this way, especially when it’s him.

You saw Rick tensing up as he watched on from the sideline, wondering what Negan was up to, showing such civilness to you. “Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Y/N.” You stated, his smirk getting wider. “Sir? Oh, you my dear, are like the gift that keeps on damn giving!” He exclaimed, bewilderment sitting on the faces of those around you and yourself. What the hell did he mean by that? “Load em up, we’re leaving.” He commanded, the saviours starting to retreat back to their vans, Negan not moving from where he was stood.

A few of the Alexandrian’s moved away as well, not wanting to be in his presence for a moment longer than they were required to. “Now doll, take that damn thing off your shoulders, wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” You reluctantly agreed, placing the deer just behind you, before Negan nodded at two remaining men, them coming behind you to take your prized find. You scowled, fury raging inside your soul, you’d risked your life trying to get just one actual nice, fulfilling meal for everyone, just to have your hard work stolen off you. “I believe that’s mine.” You spat out, the fire showing from your eyes as you glared up at him. “What’s yours is now ours doll, or hasn’t Rick drilled that into you yet?” He asked, aware of the sexual innuendo of his words, his tongue rolling across his lower lip. You huffed, knowing if you talked back further, it wasn’t going to end well for you. You felt like you were tasting blood from how hard you bit down on your tongue, fists balled up.

Negan walked over slightly to the back of the last truck, the doors open, a load of stuff that you recognised from peoples homes in the compound. Picking something up, he walked back over to you, Lucille still sat on his shoulder. You saw the small video camera, not thinking much of it, not knowing there was a tape inside that you probably would have never wanted him to see. He placed it on your chest, it digging into your skin, sat just on top of your heaving breasts.

“You should be careful with such sensitive material, never know what kind of perverts going to come across it!” He joked, your eyes widening in embarrassment as you finally understood what he was talking about. You got a look of disgust rise on your face, you couldn’t believe he’d seen such an intimate piece of film. You went to grab the camera from him before he gripped tight on it, making it harder to move. “Now doll, it’s a good job I found this before any of my men did, you know that right? They would have taken this back with them and sat around in a circle jerk together, I however am returning this to you, soooo… How about a thank you, Negan?” He demanded playfully, leaning closer to your face, nose almost touching your cheek. You gulped shallowly, your hand moving over his that was holding the camera to your chest. “Thank you, Negan.” You managed to get out, the words tasting like poison to you.

He laughed, letting go of the camera, allowing you take it back with a yank. “You are more than welcome, baby. Also, in case you were wondering, you are most definitely my favourite Alexandrian now.” He winked, walking backwards before getting in the truck, holding his head out the window, giving a small wave to you as they drove out the front gates. You huffed, letting out a breath you didn’t realise you held in your throat.

It had now been a couple weeks since Negan’s last visit, he’d sent groups of his saviours in between but never actually visiting himself. You were thankful that this had been the case, you’d found yourself thinking about what could have been. You’d began to let your mind wonder to the scenario of meeting Negan in another situation, you couldn’t help but be attracted to him. He was one of the most attractive men you’d ever come across, it was just a shame he was also the most evil men you’d ever come across.

Unbeknown to you, he’d found himself thinking about you too, that fucking video. He’d managed to score some old age dvd porno films from supply runs over the years but he couldn’t even watch them to get off anymore, only thinking of your little smut tape. It wasn’t even like you’d done anything massively explicit on the tape, it shutting off before it managed to get that far but he had concluded that was probably worse. It allowed his mind to run at all the different possibilities, what did you sound like when you moaned, what would you sound like whimpering out his name as he was filling you up? What did you look like when you reached climax? All these unanswered questions racing through his mind as he got out his sexual frustration on his wives, not caring which one it was as all he pictured below him was you. Moaning out your name instead of theirs, the women not caring that much as they were only there to be used by him, no affectionate feelings connecting them to him.

You were currently in the garage, clipboard in hand, biting on the end of your pencil in anxiousness as you went over inventory. You were expecting another visit today, making you want to double check over everything to make sure there wasn’t any discrepancies in the numbers. That was the last thing you needed, especially since you were now actively trying to get plans in place to take the fight back to the Saviours. You were just finishing up when a loud knock startled you, the garage door vibrating at the motion. You put the clipboard down on the side, bending down to pull the door up.

“Well well well! If it isn’t my favourite Alexandrian. I’ve missed you, doll.” It was Negan, that signature grin on his face once again, eyes raking over your body. You felt sheepish under his wandering eyes, now knowing he’d practically seen you naked since he’d come across that video of yours. You sighed, hands resting on your hips. “What do you need, Negan?” You asked, him walking into the garage now, the door slamming back shut. The anxiety started to kick in as you were now alone with just him, as he looked over the shelves, picking up random items and studying them. “Nothing really, just wanted to see your pretty face. I just cannot stop thinking about you, doll! I wonder why that is, huh?” He laughed, you knowing what he was alluding to. He noticed how you crossed your hands over your chest, almost trying to shield yourself from him.

“Oh no no no! There’s no need for all that, I’ve seen those pretty babies already, you’ve nothing to be ashamed of, doll.” He sauntered over to you, towering over you again like last time, practically feeling the heat from his body on yours. You couldn’t take your eyes off his, the way he looked at you making you get slick. He wasn’t one to hide his true emotion, his jeans getting tighter as he imagined you as he saw in the video, putting on a little private show for him. “I’ve gotta know, what made you film something like that? You must of known someone could come across it, why take the risk?” He questioned you, hand coming to rub over his bearded chin. “In this world, there’s not much opportunity to feel sexy. I just wanted something to look back at when I felt down about myself.” You squeaked out, feeling very intimate. Here you were telling the leader of a rival camp your biggest insecurities, possibly giving him ammunition to further torment you and your people.

“Oh doll, you could be covered in damn walker guts, and I’d still think you were the sexiest thing on this damn shithole planet.” He purred, grabbing you slightly by the chin, making you smile slightly. You shook your head, pulling yourself out of his grasp. “What are you doing Negan? We can’t be thinking like this. I can’t be thinking like this. You… you are the enemy.” Your hands resting on the lapels of his leather jacket, the slight coldness of it sending shivers down your spine. You leaned dangerously close to Negan’s lips, his beard scratching the surface of your skin. “Rick would fucking kill me, he’d fucking kill me, if he knew I think about you the way I do. Think about you when I touch myself, wishing it was you.” You whispered, getting more confident in your tone, your eyes staring at his lips, then back up to his dark eyes, your lips partially open as you let out shallow breaths, anything you could to try and lower your heart rate that was pumping under your chest. The silence in the room was deafening, you started to get nervous again, like you were just waiting for him to recoil away from you and laugh at your confession, that this had all been a massive joke to humiliate you further. “Goddamn it doll, looks like great minds think alike because I’ve been doing the same damn thing since I saw that little treat on that fucking camera.” He chuckled, picking you up in one swift movement, placing you on top of the workplace bench.

“Did you think about me claiming your pussy, doll? Fucking you until you can barely remember your goddamn name? What would Ricky say if he saw you submitting yourself so easily to me, the big bad wolf?” The dark tenor of Negan’s voice caused you to whimper in half fear, half pleasure. You could tell his personality was darkening to the more intense side, the jolly joking and fucking about traits were completely absent. You didn’t feel terrified though, like you did when he committed some of the horrific atrocities in front of you, the feelings of excitement causing your hairs to stand on edge and your pussy getting wet with every word that spilled out of his mouth.

“I did, god I want you inside of me.” You confessed, as Negan’s hands ghosted over your cleavage that was exposed by your tank top, before he pulled it over your head, your breasts spilling out of your lace bra. He shoved his gloved hand into your mouth, commanding you to suck. You obliged, your hands holding his arm in place as you swirled your tongue around the two thick fingers, head bobbing up and down as you did. The leather of the glove rubbery on your tongue, causing you to moan onto his fingers.

He grinned at you, a deep grunt as he leaned over capturing your right nipple into his mouth, suckling it, swirling his tongue around and biting it with his teeth causing you to moan and pull his head against your chest as you kept sucking hard on his fingers. He did it again, giving you light bites and licks, alternating between your two erect nubs. Negan removed his fingers from your mouth with a pop, bring them down to give one final pinch to your nipples, the wetness of his one hand causing the cold air to make your nipple more sensitive.

“Get on your knees, I want to see your mouth full of my dick, doll.” Negan grinned with a wicked smile, his hands undoing his jeans, letting them fall to pool at his boots. You felt your mouth salivate, eager to take him as slid off the table onto your knees. You started to lick him, going from bottom to top slowly, teasing him like he did to you with his dirty sweet nothings in your ears, hearing his low groans. You sucked the precum from his tip and swirled your tongue under his head, and then looked up at him, making sure you held eye contact with him, opening your mouth and taking him in little by little, bobbing your head up and down. Your mouth was being stretched wide, you started to move a little faster, sucking him, licking him, taking him deeper and deeper until you felt him in your throat. He was big, causing you to gag a little as your eyes began to water, your throat starting to get a sore feeling within it as he fucked your throat at a quick pace. He gave a slight gasp and his hand took a firm hold of your head keeping you in place, as his hips bucked, making it his mission to get as far down your throat as possible.

“I need to fuck you now, doll. Get up here.” Negan pulled back to your feet, slamming you stomach down onto the table, almost ripping your jeans as he pulled them down your thighs, your moist panties now on show, one tug and the flimsy material broke in two halves, now fully exposing your slick entrance to Negan. He rubbed his dick up and down your slit eliciting a pleasurable moan from both of you, pushing his length inside and then pulling out and rubbing it down your slit again.

“Please... Negan! Please!” You whimpered out, pinching your nipples, trying to get some relief from his teasing. He smirked down at you, that dark gaze watching your every move. “Please what? I want to hear you saying you want daddy's dick. I want to hear you beg me. Come on little girl, say it.” he demanded as he rubbed his length along your wet slit. “Please daddy! I want you deep inside me, please fuck me!” He groaned and pushed himself hard inside your walls, with no hesitations. You screamed, even being sopping wet, you were too tight around his shaft. He leaned on top of you and started to kissing your neck, biting lightly. Negan felt you getting used to his girth, you started to move your hips against him, wanting friction. He started to thrust in slowly, checking for your reaction to his movements. “I'm fine, please, fuck me daddy!” You moaned out, Negan pulling almost all the way out of you and then thrusting in hard making you gasp.

“You're loving this doll, aren’t you? Yeah, you're loving having my dick inside of you. I’d love good old Rick to walk in right now, see you bent over for the big bad wolf.” he chuckled, turning you on even more. Thrusting again and again building up speed, going faster and harder, just like you had imagined he would in your dirty dreams, but so much better than your imagination. “I'm going to fuck you like the slut you are and you are going to thank me for it.” He whispered in your ear, pulling your hair with one hand and holding your hips firmly with the other as he snapped his groin into you, making your ass ripple with the powerful movements. “I want to hear you doll, thank me.” You almost rolled your eyes at the narcissistic request but your brain was too blank to comprehend it. “Thank you, thank you Negan!”

You focused on the obscene sounds of your bodies echoing around you, amplified by how small the garage was. Negan continued fucking you rough and hard, until you felt the orgasm surging inside of you, building fast and strong. When it finally hit you, you screamed with the intensity of it, your body shook with the pleasure waves, running through your core. Negan released your hair to hold your hips so he could keep fucking you. His thrusts shortened, you clenched around his length, a groan leaving his mouth, feeling him finally release just after you. Negan pulled himself out of you, watching as his cum spilled out of your hole, dripping slightly onto the concrete floor below you. He leaned on top of you, leaving small kisses on your spine, body covered in a light sheen of sweat.

“Y/N! We need you out here! Negan is on his way!” You turned to Negan, a confused look on your face, he’d snuck into the compound to fuck you and now you had to act like he wasn’t even here.

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lazyneonrabbitt · 4 months

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Demons are a girl’s best friend

Daryl Dixon x reader | SMUT🔞

You hide from the rain in a church, not knowing a very interesting beast already claimed the place as his home.

Anon requested Monsterfucker!reader x Were!Daryl, with some preg and pups!

The church building was in a good state, within a gate that seemed to hold up surprisingly well against dead. It had been used to house the religious folks of the town when the problems first started and had housed many more groups for short period of time before they too moved on in search for something permanent.

The place was good, but didn’t house people anymore. Nowadays it was covered with warning signs sprayed with graffiti warding off anyone attempting to enter.

A once human man made himself at home in the place, needing a roof and walls now too with his home in the woods constantly being overrun by the dead. Except these days he no longer resembled a man. The only evidence of him ever being one was still tucked in a pocket of the old, army green bag he carried around that now held his most common clothes. Among those a leather motorcycle vest with tattered wings stitched on the back, and a wallet with the long expired ID of a blue eyed young man named Daryl Dixon.

You could handle a little rain, but the rate it was coming down now was a little too much for you.

Making your way around to find a place to hide you came across an small church.

You hated churches in the old world. Their people were never your people but now you thanked the building being empty and available to you.

The interior still kept its beautifully made details, now graffiti’d over and makeshift fabric walls hung in places. The pews had been moved for space too.

It all looked like it was used at the start as a safe house.

You were gonna stay and made sure to barricade the doors to keep unwanted guests out, dead or alive, while you slept.

Moving some pews against the doors took longer than you hoped, even when you took the closest ones.

You were tired now. Tired and ready to pass out for the night and pray the storm was over by then.

But a low growl scared you wide awake again. You just blocked your way out and didn’t check the building for walkers first. The scraping of the wood over the floor must have woken them up..

You mentally cursed at yourself for being so extremely stupid, keeping quiet to not further announce your location while you snuck off. With a hand on your hip you remembered taking off your knife belt and leave it at your bag. In the same direction the growling came from, right behind a fake wall.

“Fuck me..”

You were officially done with this world. You rounded the place to get a view of what you were dealing with while also trying to find anything that could function as a weapon, picking up a candle holder on your way and taking the candle itself off to use the iron spike at the top.

You kept low to the ground, hiding behind anything you could use as a cover. The growling had stopped and sounds of buckles undoing and items moving around had stared before the growling picked up again, now right where your bag sat. You could have sworn you heard your knife belt hit the ground and your bag scoot over the ground. It sounded heavy, so it had to be. There was nothing else there.

Now that you were thinking about your bag, you let out a sigh remembering you could have hung your dirty clothes out In the rain to at least rinse them and dry them over a fire later.

You were almost where you needed to be to get your items and enemy into view.

Just a few more steps and—

With a loud clatter the candle holder fell rom your hands at the sight of what was rummaging in your bag.

He had his head stuck in your bag, soft muffled growls sounding from it. His wrapped tail wagged happily.

You knew immediately what he was, and understood it was easier to survive while keeping the form he kept now. If it had been anyone else standing in your place they probably would have ran, but you were a little too distracted by the beast currently going through your bag with the largest hard-on you had ever seen.

Mind you, you had seen some impressive ones before, seeing monsters weren’t too rare in your area before the world went to shit, but this beast in its entirety was huge.

Probably not a city wolf.

At the clattering sound the beast pulled his head rom your bag, your dirty laundry hanging off his muzzle.

Your panties, to be precise..

Your hands were up in defeat, but your eyes kept going between his own, and the angry red cock between his legs. A string of drool hung from the corner of his mouth and your mouth spoke before your mind could stop the words from flowing.

“You know it tastes way better from the source, right?”

The beast shook the panties off his face, slobbering all over the scattered contents of your bag in the process and looking you dead in the eyes while licking his lips. A large paw moved from the floor to find his member and give it a few tugs, letting out a satisfied growl as he kept his eyes on yours.

You watched him, almost hypnotized. He knew exactly what he was doing and the effect it was having on you. You could feel yourself getting wetter but never moved an inch to get closer to him where he stood over your bag and weapons.

He did look very handsome. Strong too, he could snap you in half with one hand.

“C’mere.” The hand that was touching himself before how reached out for you, precum staining the pads of his fingers.

You weren’t gonna make him ask twice and stepped closer to him and watched him stand up to his full height, ending with his chest at your eye level. The extended hand reached for your face, stopping in front of your mouth. “Clean up.”

You stared at the glistening liquid covering his paw pads before taking his hand in yours and gently licking his thumb clean, giving the pad a kiss before moving on to the next one.

While you worked you felt tugging at the waist of your pants, the button being torn off not so gently and pulling the zipper in half along with it.

“Hey, those were my good pants..” you pouted against his middle finger, lips resting against the skin but your whines were ignored as he kept tearing the fabric further and continuing with your sweater. He urged you on to continue cleaning his paw instead of moping over lost clothes. “Got spares, go on.” His muzzle was right next to your ear as he moved in to sniff at you from up close, taking in your sweet scent and let out a hum.

By the time you had his paw cleaned you were stripped bare, only remains of pant legs and boots.

The cold air hitting your skin had you shiver, now really feeling how wet you were getting.

With both hands available again you were grabbed by the hips and manhandled onto one of the wooden pews, ass right on the edge and legs held wide open. “Be’er from’e source, hm?”

The anticipation was killing you, reaching for the long tufts of fur on his head and pulling his muzzle against you.

With his nose pressed against your clit he let out a growl at your hair pulling, which you took note of and tucked the info away for later.

A large claw came to rest on either of your thighs and the rough surface of a huge tongue slid across your lips. With a little prying and prodding your hips jerked at the sudden intrusion, feeling his tongue slip deep inside while his jaws opened wide enough to wrap around your lower end. He was holding you up now as he shoved his tongue in and out of you, making sure to not break your skin on his fangs.

His rough ministrations had you moaning in mere seconds. "Fuckk, you know what you're doing, huh.." your hands found purchase at the base of his ears, rubbing the thin flesh between your fingers and pulled a moan from the beast between your legs that vibrated deep inside of you.

You felt his tongue brush against your most sensitive spot, making your grasp on his ears tighten and pulling another whine from him. It made your walls clench around him, signaling you were close.

"Keep going.. please.." You tugged softly on his ears, moving your hands into his long fur and pull at it hard to make him let out those vibrating growls two, three times before squeezing your walls tight around his tongue as you tipped over the edge. You slumped against the wooden bench and let go of his fur, watching him pull away from you slowly, sitting on his haunches in front of you and going back to paw at his cock and lick his lips.

"Now you." His mouth formed a wide grin as he moved himself to sit on the wooden pew next to you, moving to pull you to your knees in front of him. "Go on."

You stared at the large member in front of your face, trying to find the easiest approach to get this done.

You started off with simple licks to get a taste, all the way from the base up to the tip before wrapping your lips around the tip and sucking gently. You had to keep your jaw wide open to fit only his tip inside and almost gagged on him already.

"Ahhw.." Two padded fingers stroked your hair, his claws never touching your skin. The fingers moved to the back of your head and pressed, shoving himself all the way against the back of your throat causing you to gag and pull back. You coughed while he let out a laugh. "S'rry.." the chuckle in his voice was a clear sign he didn't mean it in the slightest but you let it slip.

You cleared your throat and moved to get back to work but were stopped by a pointed claw against the chest.

"Wha, huh? I thought you wanted me to return the favor?" You stayed seated before him and watched him move off the pew and onto his knees in front of you.

“S’fine.” His mind wandered, looking you up and down to take in your details, taking in your scent that was almost addictive. He took both your hands and placed them on his cock for you to play with before his hands found your head and pulled you closer, his nose pressed against yours. After a short moment his head tilted slightly, for a quick moment resembling an adorable confused dog before his mouth opened and he licked across your mouth. A broad stripe from cheek to cheek that had you involuntarily smile in response, barely parting your lips but just far enough for him to prod his tongue in between.

Your hands worked as best as they could on his length while the again fucked your mouth, this time without making you gag on him. You wanted to kiss back, but swirling your tongue around his was the best you could do for now until he stopped and pulled away again.

He looked around the place, towards your bag and bedroll. “Tha’ soft?” His paw was pointed at the rolled up thick fabric attached to your bag and got a confused yes that lead to him going to fetch it and lay it out on the ground. “Go ahead.”

“You want me to go lay down?” He nodded and you made your way down on the soft bedding. “Hmhmm, no fur. Cold floor, s’bad.” He followed your movements with his own, ending up hovering above you. His paw lifted and moved down to your core, mimicking the motions he remembered from his days as a human but stopping right above you. You followed his gaze down and saw him stare at his hand. Instead of asking him what was wrong you took two of his fingers and pressed them to your clit, carefully moving them around making you jerk up your hips in excitement. “Like that, jus the pads. S’good..”a The roughness of his fingers was a welcome feeling and you saw the tense energy leave your companion too now that he was pleasing you properly.

You reached out for him but your hands couldn’t make it all the way down to his cock. Instead they found purchase in the shorter fur of his chest, kneading the soft muscle underneath. Light scratches and squeezes made him purr above you, joining your mewls.

“Want it in, tha’ okay?” He was nuzzling your neck as he lowered himself to lay on top of you, grumbling something as he couldn’t get comfortable.

“Get comfortable.” You moved yourself up on your elbows. “We’ll make it work, big guy.”

He was sitting on his haunches and looked between the two of you before moving to lower him to his knees, his back paws stretched underneath him so his crotch was lower to the ground. With a satisfied nod he took your hips in his hands and pulled you up against him, hips in his lap with your legs spread and shoulders still on the soft bedding beneath you. “This good?” His deep voice was comforting, making sure you were okay.

“I’m good, puppy. Don’t worry about me.” You reached your hand down to pat his thigh. “I’ll make myself known if if hurts.”

Ears perked up at being called a puppy. He wasn’t a puppy, he was a monster. Did you really feel like he wasn’t s threat? You did invite him to do this to you without hesitation after all.

You intrigued him from the moment you spoke your first words to him. And it didn’t help he found you incredibly attractive. He could have easily used you for his pleasure and snap your neck afterwards but he felt drawn to you. He had to think of a way to ask you to stay after the storm passed.

He kept one hand on your hip to keep you steady as the other one moved to rub his tip between your folds, gathering slick before pressing in the tiniest bit. He watched you like a hawk for any signs of discomfort, stopping at even the smallest grimace as he stretched you further than anyone ever had.

And hurt it did, but your constant reassuring had him slowly continue to rut his hips into you, pushing further in inch by inch.

“You hurt.” A rough paw wiped away a tear on your cheek and stopped moving again.

“I’m fine, you’re just so big, baby..” You added a little wiggle of your hips at the end of your sentence to add extra reassurance.

Gods, the compliments you gave him went straight through him, urging him on to keep going until his legs gave out. But he knew better and kept up with your body’s limits. It’s why it took him a while to be fully sheathed inside of you with his knot pressing snug against your lips.

Tongue was lolled out of his mouth by now and you were breathing heavy but smiling, your hand moving to poke at your stomach that showed how deep he was buried. “Fuck, that’s insane. Hot though.” You squeezed around his length, telling him to start moving and he did, slow thrusts at first that had you whine with the slight discomfort.

The feeling quickly faded and turned into pleasure, leaving you a moaning mess in his lap until he pulled out and moved you onto your stomach.

You audibly complained at the loss of contact but almost screamed when he crawled over you to pull your hips up and shove himself inside again, one quick move to be buried entirely.

Immediately his muzzle was buried in your neck again, lapping and sniffing, mumbling from time to time as well as he kept rutting into you. “Hmhmm smell so sweet,” he lapped at your ear, your jaw and your neck before licking right down your spine and pressing his nose to your skin. “Smell good for breeding..”

You moaned underneath him, barely registering his words. “Whatever you want baby, just keep doing what you’re doing.” You tried to reach for him but you had no strength left in your body. With your face against the floor you didn’t see him raise his brows in interest. He thought of pulling out before he came, earlier. Shoving himself down your throat and make you swallow it all but that quickly changed to doing exactly as he said.

One of his hands on your hips moved to rub his pads over your clit, making you moan out loud. Your clenching signaled him you were close and set a pace to work himself towards the end as well.

Your moans and whines were music to his ears, you sounded so pretty. He could barely contain himself already and then with a long drawn out cry you came around his cock, squeezing you walls and making him howl.

A deep, rumbling howl as he thrusted deep into you, taking two or three tries to shove his knot past your lips and finishing deep inside you.

The extra stretch hurt like a bitch, but it was so worth the pain.you got to spend the night with a gorgeous creature and cuddle with him too for the time it took his knot to deflate.

“Ya okay?” He was back to lapping at your cheek and nuzzling you affectionately.

“Hmm yeah, all good.” You nodded and moved a hand to pet his head, rubbing your fingers over his ear again to earn a soft hum. “M’happy.”

He held your hip in one hand and your chest against his in the other and moved to lay down with you, getting you positioned right so you wouldn’t be hurting.

You were resting on his stomach, head on his chest as you began to wonder. “Hey, do you have a name?”

His large paws came to rest on your back, mindlessly drawing figures on your skin. “Yeah. M’Daryl.”

You played with his long fur and smiled, giving him your name in return. “Well, goodnight, Daryl.”

Weeks passed after that night and a lot happened in you’re the small church that had become your home after the stormy night.

It was only a couple days later that you found out Daryl had in fact done what he promised and had knocked you up. A week later you woke up from your sleep in pain, crying into Daryl’s chest as he held you, unsure what to do against the pains of your body changing to carry his pups. You slept through the entire next day while Daryl hunted for food and brought back some fish in the meantime.

You had just finished eating and sat in one of the pews staring at your stomach. That night spent in pain resulted in what you could only describe as canine teats, small nubs on your belly that had started to round out by now.

When Daryl saw them in the morning after you both passed out he was beyond excited. You had asked him what it meant and got scared by accident when he told you “puppies, many.”.

You weren’t against the idea of pups at all, you were excited even, but the many part was what had you feeling scared. Daryl made sure to comfort and ensure you everything was going to be okay.

And he was right. At almost three months you could barely walk, but you were doing totally fine.

Daryl wasn’t enjoying the fact that he had to leave you alone to go hunt, but you needed food now more than before. To his luck he found a deer that would feed you at least until the pups arrived if you rationed it well, so he didn’t have to leave your side again.

Daryl made it clear he was enjoying you a lot in your current state, resting his head against your belly and purring, speaking soft words while he thinks you sleep. Words of love and adoration, sometimes of worry, but those never linger.

At each and every mewl of being uncomfortable he’d be on you for comfort, be it carefully kneading your muscles, holding your belly to relief some weight or lap wt your sore breasts. He’d happily take any leaked milk as thanks for the care.

It was the middle of the day, you were relaxing in a beam of sunlight that came through the stained glass windows and painted you in many colors.

“Daryl?” You had been feeling uncomfortable ever since you woke up the day before but it had gotten way worse all of a sudden. Tightening muscles had you double over in moments, suddenly feeling weight shift low inside of you. He was on you the second his name left your lips, feeling around your stomach and up your skirt before stopping and pulling his hand away. “You feel and talk. Can’t touch ya, claws..” he wiggled his fingers in your view before helping you back onto the nest you built in preparation for this, needing to stop every few steps because of the contractions. “Ya good? M’sorry t’hurts.”

You could only nod and hold onto your painful belly as you sat against the stuffed bags, breathing through contractions while Daryl unwrapped your skirt and took your hand, trying to place it between your legs but your belly made it almost impossible to reach. “Just leave it be, we got this.” You tried to sound convincing but it was clear the nerves had kicked in.

“Strong momma, you.” His muzzle nudged the underside of your belly as he inspected your progress as best as he could, trying to spread your lips with just the pads of his fingers and feeling them bulge outward with each of your cries. “You see anything?” You managed to ask between deep breaths, getting an eager nod in response. “Snout. Good work.” A soft pat on your thigh added to the compliment.

Daryl watched you work, his large hands holding your thighs spread until one moved to cradle your first pup’s head. “Bit more, then a break.”

You huffed at his comment, but pushed hard to get your first child out of you, groaning in relief as you felt it slip out entirely.

“Good momma.” Daryl laid the pup down between his arms and started to clean as you caught your breath before the second pup made itself known. You wanted to see so bad, but you never got the time to look as the second one came a lot quicker than the first. It hurt less but still took effort, listening to Daryl’s short updates and commands and feeling his hands move around you between pushes.

The sun had gotten down by the time you were all done. You were on fresh sheets instead of laying in the soaked ones from before and all your puppies were laying comfortably against your skin, squeaking softly as they were suckling away. Four little creatures, cleaned up by Daryl the second they were out of you.

And Daryl? He was curled up in front of you, watching the most beautiful scene he had ever witnessed. He stared at the puppies, up your figure and to your face, where he found you staring right at him. “They’re so small,” he watched your hand reach of the pups and pet its head. “so weird, seeing how big you are.”

A low rumbling laugh left him as his hand joined yours, softly running a knuckle along the back of the pup. “No worries, momma.” He moved to stretch and lay down even closer, his nose an inch from your chest where the first pup nursed, and his tail resting over your legs. “Lil’ ones grow big fast.”

He couldn’t do anything but stare, feeling his mind wander to the days of chasing the pups through the woods behind the church and teaching them how to hunt while you foraged. But he also admitted to himself he enjoyed being inside with you while you carried his children. He quickly told himself off, not allowing himself to even think about asking you for the next few months. The two of you first needed to figure out being parents in this new world.

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl x reader #twd #the walking dead #twd au #werewolves #werewolf #monster x human #monster fucker #Spotify

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icarusredwings · 3 days

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Thinking about Logan trying to comfort Kurt's guilt.

It's a full moon. For the others, it's a pretty normal night. This isn't to say that they don't give it a second thought, or a tenth, but Kurt takes it upon himslef to find out the names of every single person that dosn't make it during their missions.

While most, Like Logan, would rather forget, Kurt had another job to do. It's his duty to make sure these lost and scared souls find heaven.

Walking up to the nearest church, Logan grunts, already halfway through his bottle since they've returned. He hears whispering. Small prayers that he's heard all before whether when muttered on the field or heard through the walls, his rosery intertwined between his 6 fingers, gripping it as if someone would rip it from him.

"I thought you'd be here.." he mutters.

Kurt doesn't answer him. But there he is, on his knees in front of a statue of Mary, tears soaking the fur on his face, hands together. The way the moonlight is coming in, it hits him in a way that makes him look ethereal. Like a blessing from above from the man himself. If only Logan believed in that kind of thing.

It was so ironic that someone so innocent, pure, and beautiful actively visited hell. Perhaps this was why. For he's seen what goes on and has chosen that he's seen enough.

Letting out a big sigh, He comes to crouch next to him, taking a swig of his bottle as he picks up the list. He wants to crumble it up or perhaps shred it, the handwritten swoopy german being nothing but a reminder of how much he failed too. Hero's weren't supposed to let people get hurt. Especially not almost a dozen.. 11 lives ruined. 11 loved ones ripped from their families grasp. And all because they weren't good enough.

Finishing his whispers, he goes to grab the page but Logan had already picked it up. Kurt looks at him with those big black hole eyes of his, almost begging him not to ruin his list, but he dosn't grab for it. He lets his friend look over it only to shove his head back again, drinking for a few seconds think.

"...Emily Stripe..." He read, shifting to actually sit his ass on the concrete step, grunting as he let his arms hang over his knees. "Jessica Stripe...Are they sisters?" He asks the praying man, begging for forgiveness and to help serve these innocent souls towards the stairs and the gates.

More tears fall down his face each couple of words. In the end, he bows his head and doesn't bother looking at him, his eyes glistening in the light. "They were..."

Logan offers him the bottle, and without hesitation, he takes it, starting to chug a quarter of it. "Woah woah! Elfs can't handle that much, ya'know!" He says, and Kurt mumbles something along the lines that he's German, alchool is in his viens from birth.

Taking the bottle back, He shakes it around, Giving a playful glare now it was almost gone. Putting it to the side, he wraps an arm over his shoulder, Kurt's tail wrapping around his waist as well. For a bit, they were just two guys, silently mourning the casualties of what it was like to have constant city villans at hand.

"...It ain't your fault, Fuzzball... or should I say buzzball. You okay there, Mr. Blue?"

"I.....I was so sure I could have saved them.."

"Not your fault, Bub."

"..But what if it is..? If I was just.. a bit better.. I could have saved them."

"Yeah... well, if it's your fault, it's mine too."

Kurt lays his head on his shoulder, wiping his face on his arm. Logan doesn't actually mind, but he knows he wants to play. "Augh! Did you just wipe snot on me!?"

Kurt smiles softly and says something Logan doesn't recognize.

It could be a million things, but deep down, he has a feeling of what it might be.

"Yeah, yeah.. whatever." Pulling him close he headlocks him to his chest and rubs his fist over his head, making Kurt whine and squirm. "Ah! Nein!"

"That's what you get for rubbing snot all over me!"

He scoffs, saying something else, but Logan only catches the end of it.

"Du bist vild, mein freund"

He remembered another scrawny german who said the same. Swallowing, he lets go, letting him lay against him.

"...You really shouldn't be smoking in here." He muttered after some time of them sitting, taking this time to make sure that the people on this list were not fotgotten.

Logan smirks, blowing some smoke into his face as he coughs drimatically and waves his hands infront of his face with a smile.

#kurt wagner #nightcrawler #character death #nightcrawler xmen #logurt #logan howlett #survival guilt #xmen wolverine #logan wolverine #nightwolves #SoundCloud

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winedarkthoughts · 3 days

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house of addams (7)

— 🌖 pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

— 🕷️ genre: mystery, angst + fluff + smut

— 🗝️ word count: 7.3k

— 🍄 summary: you’re invited for a night at the Addams house.

— ☕ content warnings: mentions of (mutual) stalking and taking photos without consent, smoking, weapons + firearms

— 🕸️ a/n: ok listen, i am a sucker for tropes.

previous chapter ← series m.list → next chapter

chpt. 7: the dinner party

october 30, 2004

The gates of the Addams house greet you with open iron rails, swinging open, just like before, without any kind of assistance. It only makes you hesitate for a moment, because you figure you're in for more of a shock once you get inside.

The Addams house looms tall and intimidating from atop the hill. The sun has nearly completed its descent past the treetops into the darkening wilderness, and the windows of the house are aglow with warm light. It makes it look more like a place fit for habitation.

The image of all of them cozied up at the dinner table, ready to share a meal together like a little family, pops into your mind. But it is very quickly shooed away, because it hurts a little to think of happy families.

A few old lamposts illuminate your way up the path. When you get a little closer, you can see shadows moving through the dirty glass windows.

Even in the darkness, you can see the overgrown weeds and crumbling stone that makes up the exterior of the house, and it makes you even more curious to see what it looks like inside.

Standing on the front landing, you check your watch. Five fifty-five p.m. The invitation said six sharp, so you figure it won't hurt to arrive a few minutes early.

The iron knocker is in the image of a black cat's head, with a mouse dangling by its tail as the handle. You grasp the mouse and rap it against the door three times.

A few moments pass before the old wood is creaking open.

You're half expecting the door to open by itself like the gate, but no. Jungkook stands there, dressed in a dark pinstripe suit with his hair in slick curls. The warm lamplight crawls across his face, but his strange paleness still startles you a little.

"Good evening," he greets you, opening the door wider to beckon you inside.

You're glad you're dressed adequately. The formal dress code was a little intimidating. You opted for slacks, a white button-up, tie, leather vest (even with a silver pocket watch chain for extra flare), and an oversized suit jacket. All with the leather coat you purchased at the bookshop thrown overtop to combat the cold.

Wearing a dress isn't ideal in any situation other than for looks, especially when you're carrying items that are meant to remain concealed, so you opted for a more practical outfit.

You're expecting the inside of the house to be just as decrepit as the outside, but this isn't the case. The long, elegant hallway is lined with framed oil paintings and sconces holding lit candles, flickering in the slight draft, an air that feels a little ghostly.

You follow Jungkook into a large foyer with polished floors and a tall domed ceiling overhead. A grand staircase that branches in two directions leads up to the balconied second floor.

You can't help stopping for a moment to admire the grandeur of the place. Every curve, every corner, is embellished with carved wood or shining brass accents. It isn't even dusty, let alone decrepit.

"Come," Jungkook says softly. "He's waiting for you in the lounge."

He leads you through more labyrinthine hallways, all aglow with candlelight, gesturing you through an oak door.

The room inside is dimly lit with soft lamps, a fully-stocked bar tucked into one corner, the remaining walls lined with full bookshelves. There's plenty of seating options, from plush-looking armchairs to curving sofas.

"I'll see where he's gone off to. Wait here, please," Jungkook blurts out, sounding nervous, and closes the door without waiting for a reply.

You take the opportunity to look around a bit.

Lush ferns decorate almost every potential empty space, probably thanks to Yoongi. There's a table in the center of the circle of seating options, crowded with appetizers. Oysters on the half shell, perfectly pink shrimp and cocktail sauce, chunks of fresh salmon with lemon wedges, all resting on giant slabs of ice.

You walk over to the ledge of the bar, examining all the fancy bottles and crystal decanters. Some of them have little tags hanging from their glass necks, labelling them. Blackberry vodka, silver rum, 0.3% cyanide, hemlock syrup.

It's just as you're ducking your head under to examine the hidden shelves behind the bar counter when a light voice interjects,

"Nosy little thing, aren't you?"

You turn to find the head of the house himself standing there in the doorway, though you didn't hear it open or him enter.

You've never seen him this close before. And what a vision he is. Dressed in all black, skin showing through the deep cut V in his shirt, hair slicked back, and a grin that's just as slick to match.

"Yes," you quip back, unapologetic. "I've made a career out of it."

His smile only widens, as if to say I'm well aware.

"Drink?"

"Please," you reply.

His smile, which is much brighter and lighthearted than you anticipated, remains as he crosses the room and stands behind the bar.

"Any preference?" he asks.

"Whatever you recommend," you answer, plopping down on the velvet green Chesterfield sofa, digging in your bag for your notes. At this point, it's less of a bag and more of a giant mess of papers and folders and photographs held together by a few pieces of straining fabric.

Hoseok plucks a perfect sphere of ice out of a silver dish, dropping it into a martini shaker. He grabs the decanter of blackberry vodka, and a few other bottles and mixers.

"Very thorough, aren't you?" he asks as he pours shots and drizzles into the shaker.

"That's right," you respond, spreading out the near-endless stream of documents according to the map in your head.

You can hear the clack of the shaker, the sound of its contents being poured. A moment later, a martini glass filled with near pitch-dark liquid, garnished with a blackberry, is placed by your side.

"Thank you," you say, grabbing the glass and taking a sip. There's the hint of flavored vodka, a berry tartness, and some other taste that you can't quite name.

Hoseok sinks down in the chair across from you with a matching glass in his hand, crossing one slim leg over the other.

"So," he begins, and you don't have to look at him to feel his eyes scanning you up and down. "You're the one she settled on to sort out this mess."

You pause your obsessive shuffling.

"She?"

In the middle of taking a sip from his drink, he looks at you like he's a little confused.

"The mayor? She is the one who hired you, isn't she?" he asks.

"Yes," you admit. "What of it?"

A slight smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"I admire your suspicion, ______," Hoseok says, and hearing your name from his mouth is strangely thrilling. "But you must trust me when I say that me and my family have done nothing to cause the deaths and disappearances, at least to our knowledge."

"Then you better start telling me what you know," you reply sharply, fixing him with a strict gaze, and he doesn't break it.

"That is why you invited me here, isn't it?" you ask. "To tell me what you know?"

Hoseok considers it for a moment.

"Of sorts, yes," he replies, cryptidly.

You suppress the slight annoyance that wants to creep into your expression, focusing back on your documents. Spreading out a map littered with red circles and connecting lines, you point to one of the marked indicators.

"This is the Addams House, correct?" you ask, instinctively using your interrogation voice without realizing it.

It makes Hoseok chuckle internally.

"Correct," he replies cooly.

"And these," you point to several of the red circles. "Are the last known locations of the five missing persons. Remarkably close, hmm?"

"Come now, ______," Hoseok says in a playfully chiding voice. "Location may be suggestive, but it isn't incriminating."

"I never said it was," you bite back. "I'm merely suggesting that this house, as well as the surrounding area, displays some very strange qualities. And I can't leave any stone unturned."

Hoseok nods, almost appreciatively.

“I’d expect nothing less,” he says, smiling that same radiant smile.

“You’ve done your job well, haven’t you?” he inquires, setting his glass down and rising from his seat, beginning to circle around the couch.

“I should hope so,” you reply a little hesitantly.

He passes by the bar and picks up the discarded martini shaker, fiddling with it, the ice inside clanking.

“How far-reaching are your investigative powers, I wonder?” he says.

He’s at your right-hand side, and suddenly he tosses the shaker halfway across the room in a perfect arc. It lands in the small sink at the bar counter with a loud clang.

Your head whips toward the sound, focus ripped away from the sea of papers.

When you look back at him, he’s adjusting his jacket lapels, sauntering back over to his seat.

“Far enough to get the job done, I suppose," you reply, trying to uphold a neutral yet strict tone of voice.

"Hmm," Hoseok says, raising a brow. "Far enough to constitute stalking?"

The back of your neck prickles.

"What makes you say that?" you ask, though both of you know well enough that you're playing dumb.

"Ever heard the expression "walls have ears?" Well, trees have eyes, and they've told me all about you."

He's back in his seat, but you still feel like he's circling around you. Not many people make you nervous, let alone intimidate you, but Hoseok is apparently one of the exceptions.

"You should know that I am very protective over my family," he says, the tone of his voice dipping a little deeper. "Naturally, I keep an eye on them."

With that, he reaches into his inside jacket and pulls out several files. Flipping open to specific pages, he throws them down on the coffee table between the two of you with a papery slap!

Staring up at you are several photos, and it takes you a second to recognize them as ones from your own camera.

Jimin, walking to class, his hand frozen in time while brushing through his hair. Taehyung, hands in his coat pockets, meandering through town on his way to the police station. Jin, leaning against the garden wall, cradling a coffee cup in his hands.

It takes you another few seconds to realize that the file is from the pile of folders you brought with you. He must've slipped it from you when he tossed the shaker into the sink, a diversion to make you turn your head.

A crooked grin, slick voice, and sticky fingers apparently.

"I admire the dedication even more than the suspicion," Hoseok says, reaching into his jacket again, but this time he pulls out a silver cigarette case.

He holds it towards you with a questioning tilt of his head, offering you one, but you shake your head. He takes one out, puts it to his lips and lights it with the flick of a lighter.

It doesn't smell like tobacco though, more like cloves and pennyroyal buds.

"Technically," you begin. "Stalking includes inducing fear in the victim; intimidation, threats, and the like."

The subtext is clear: good luck taking me to court for this.

A smile breaks out on his face.

"No harm done," he says. "They were quite flattered, actually."

You don't really know what to do with that statement. It must show on your face, because Hoseok smirks with an exhale of fragrant smoke.

"Don't worry about it, detective," he says, sounding amused. "We're all sinners here. What's a little felony charge here and there?"

You watch the ghosts of smoke twist from the end of the cigarette between his slim fingers. Something about the way the smoke moves is unusual, like it doesn't quite obey the laws of physics that normal smoke would.

"In fact," he says, reaching into his other jacket pocket. "I must admit that I'm a little guilty myself."

He takes out another folder, opens it, and lets it fall on the table. It's a mass of photos, and they're all of you. Sitting in the cafe through the window, walking through town, collecting samples at in the woods.

Now you know where that I'm being watched feeling was coming from. If you were normal, you might've been creeped out by it. But this isn't the first time you've been trailed and you doubt it will be the last.

"I'm curious, though," he starts. "What exactly made them worthy of stalking in the first place?"

You look down at the spread of appetizers like you're contemplating reaching for one. You're not going to mention how you've been trying to distract yourself from what you saw at the lake, or the fact that you find all the inhabitants of the Addams House to be a little too compelling.

"I knew that all of them were cagey if not outright lying about living here, and given this place's reputation, I found it necessary to dig deeper," you answer in a leveled voice.

"And you figured that this place might be connected to the disturbances?" Hoseok replies, though it doesn't sound like a question.

You set him with a firm gaze.

"I never ignore patterns."

He stares right back.

"Words? Yes. Actions? Sometimes. But never patterns."

He's really staring at you, like he's trying to find the answer to some unspoken question in his head. The look in his eyes is somewhere between inquisitive and impressed, maybe even—

"I think you have darker thoughts than you realize, detective," he says. The smoke tendrils from his last drag hang, mesmerizing, between the two of you.

"If you truly want to know what's strange about this place, I can show you."

He's leaning forward slightly in his chair, and but before you even have time to think about what that means, the loud clang of a bell is sounding through the air.

"Ah," Hoseok says, taking one last puff from his cigarette before stubbing it out in the crystal ashtray on the coffee table. "That's Jin calling us to dinner."

He rises to a stand and straightens his jacket lapels.

"Once you're done with your cocktail, we'll head into the dining room."

You haphazardly gather your notes, down the rest of your drink, and follow him out of the room.

He leads you through the ornate hallways, quickly darkening with the setting of the sun. The sound of clinking dishes and pleasant chatter grows steadily louder.

When you emerge into what you presume is the kitchen, you're almost struck speechless.

It's a humongous, grand, high-ceilinged room, and nearly everything is in shades of green and gold. The dark marble floors are flecked with gold veins, the dark wood cupboards and drawers are fixed with gold handles, even the smell in the air has a rich, golden warmth to it.

The countertops are a deep jade quartz, and the floor to ceiling stained glass windows are in patterns of emerald and amber. More plants decorate the space, though these are taller and more lush.

The huge stove is crowded with copper pots and pans, all sizzling and bubbling and hissing with their savory aroma.

There's someone standing over the stove, wearing a crisp white button-up and black apron, a small saucepan in one hand, swirling sauce on a plate in fancy shapes. There's a whole line of plates before him, making him look like a master chef plating up a dish for a hoard of diners.

"Oh, hello _______," the man says cheerfully when he notices you, and you realize that it's Jin (though you guessed as much from his ridiculously broad shoulders).

The next second he's squirting something into a different pan, sending up a surge of sweet-smelling flames, though he doesn't even turn his head from you.

"Hello," you manage to greet him, captivated by how he expertly juggles everything. There's sauteing vegetables, sizzling meats, a bubbling broth, not to mention something that you can't see in the oven.

The sound of shattering glass sounds from the next room.

Hoseok suppresses an eye roll.

"Please excuse me, detective," he says, sounding like a slightly annoyed parent. "If you wouldn't mind lingering in the kitchen while I sort this out. Jin so likes the company."

Jin flicks a spurt of hot oil over one shoulder, missing Hoseok by an inch, but he only bursts into laughter while sliding out of the room.

Jin doesn't seem to mind as you curiously look around the gigantic room, he just continues his work in comfortable silence.

That's a common theme with Jin. He's charismatic and perfectly capable of carrying a conversation, but he appears to enjoy your company despite how quiet and reserved you are. He merely glances your way every few moments, like he's reassuring himself that you're still there.

You like how he doesn't push you for conversation. It seems like he enjoys observing you just as much as you enjoy observing your surroundings (though you do enjoy observing him when he's not looking).

"Very impressive," you can't help but say as you watch him out of the corner of your eye.

"Thank you," he replies happily, and then adds playfully, "Feel free to mention that at the table."

Your eyes scan over the variety of coffee contraptions, no doubt because of Jin the cafe owner. Then you reach the refrigerator, black with gold handles, but instead of plastic magnets there are little antique picture frames with photos of all if the house's inhabitants. Because of course even the fridge has to align with the aesthetic.

"Looking for something?" Jin quips, clearly amused.

It's then that you wonder what exactly you'd find inside the fridge. Jin knows you've been watching him. Does he know what you suspect he is?

"What would I possibly be looking for?" you reply nonchalantly.

Jin lets out a chuckle that would dissolve even the thickest tension.

"If you're looking for blood bags and raw meat, you won't find them here."

He says it so jokingly, that you start to think maybe you were wrong about him. Maybe is he just some normal man with normal tendencies, the only reason for his nocturnal lifestyle attributed to him owning a 24 hour coffee shop.

Maybe you don't have to imagine him standing among a rack of blood bags at the local hospital, stealing them for his own benefit while leaving others without the vital resource.

Because if that's the case, then you have no reason to suspect he has anything to do with the deaths and disappearances. Maybe you could even—

"I don't keep them in that fridge," he says.

Your amused expression drops.

The timer on the oven beeps.

"Almost ready. If you wouldn't mind moving into the dining room and taking your seat," Jin says, focusing back on plating each dish.

You take the hint, leaving him in his element.

Another grand room, but with much higher ceilings, almost like a dark cathedral. There are the same stained glass windows and marble floors, and a massive crystal chandelier lit by tapering candles hangs overhead, though you have no idea how anyone could get so high up in order to light them.

Though the thing that demands the most attention is the long table in the center of the room. More dripping candles, some more like piles of wax with a lit wick, and bouquets of dried flowers serve as centerpieces. A black lace tablecloth, glinting silverware, dishes with images of crows and insects.

You don't even notice the people standing around the table until a small projectile is hurtling past you. Head whipping around, you see Jimin standing there with a slingshot held up to his face, and that face painted with a smirk.

From the way he's looking at you, it's not outrageous to assume that he was aiming at you. That is, until you hear a crash from behind you.

"Hey! Don't hit my azaleas!"

You immediately recognize the voice as Yoongi's, but your eyes are locked on Jimin. This is the first time you've seen him without a mask.

Uncovered by a hat, his silver hair falls across his forehead, and his eyes, unobscured by sunglasses, shine a strange blue-gray.

Something about his face is dangerous, it makes you want to see how close you can get before that danger becomes a real threat.

"You missed," you say, even though the smirk on his face is not one that belongs to someone who's missed their shot.

He just smiles on, and his teeth are sharp. Unnaturally sharp, as if every tooth beyond the front two have been filed down to fine points.

"If I wanted to hit you, I would've hit you," Jimin replies.

Hoseok approaches the two of you, ready to unleash another lethal roll of his eyes. He holds out his hand, and Jimin gives up the slingshot with a little huff.

"We have a no weapons at the table policy," Hoseok explains as Jimin pushes past him. You move to follow, but Hoseok stops you too.

"I'm afraid we also have a no recording devices at the table policy," he says with a knowing look.

You stare at him in slight disbelief, but he appears to be serious.

You want them to trust you, if only for the sake of the investigation. If they know something, you can't seem like a threat.

So you start to empty your pockets.

There's the microcassette recorder in your coat pocket, the digital recorder in your pants pocket, the flash drive recorder in your other pants pocket, the pen recorder in your inner jacket pocket.

You make a show of straightening your clothes before trying to slide past him, but he blocks you again with a raise of an eyebrow.

How the fuck...? Ugh, fine. You suppose you can actually be trustworthy instead of just pretending to be.

You take out the spare digital recorder in your left jacket pocket, the mini microphone in your shirt pocket, the flashlight with the secret button clipped to your belt. And the fake lapel pin. And the video camera in your bag. And the smaller backup camera in the hidden pocket inside your bag.

When you look up, you see that everyone in the room has stopped to watch you, all with expressions of slight shock.

Remembering one last thing, you hold up a finger, fishing out the micro nine pistol from the holster at the back of your waistband, setting it down at the top of the pile of contraband. As well as the extra magazine.

There’s a moment of stunned silence, and you think that maybe you shouldn’t have revealed the fact that you usually bring your gun to unfamiliar situations. But then you hear Jimin chuckle.

“Well,” he says from across the room with nothing but amusement in his tone. “It’s definitely a party now.”

Now that everyone is properly de-weaponed and de-deviced, everyone moves to take a seat, with Hoseok at one head of the table and Yoongi at the other in a tall peacock chair.

Your place is between Jimin and Taehyung, with Jungkook and Namjoon sitting across the table.

You should’ve guessed that Namjoon would be here, live here. As a P.I., you’re kicking yourself that you didn’t guess as much earlier.

Jin is still in the kitchen, dishes clanking. And what you perceive as awkward silence hangs in the air. To them, it simply feels like impatience being soothed.

You wait, wait for one of them to acknowledge the situation. Why have you been invited here?

“Did you enjoy the appetizers, _____?” Jimin asks.

You sneak a glance at him. He’s dressed in a silk shirt that billows around his form, his pale hair now pushed back from his forehead, transforming his face from relatively innocent to dangerously attractive. He watches you eagerly, waiting for your reply. He caught all of the seafood himself, after all.

You just nod in response, but Jimin flashes you a pleased smile all the same.

“We weren’t allowed to have any, of course,” Taehyung remarks, giving Hoseok a pointed look.

“Guests eat first, Taehyung, you know that,” he replies swiftly, but from the little grin on both their faces, it’s clear they’re only teasing.

You wonder how often they have guests in a place like this.

Another silence falls, you sneaking glances at everyone around the table. Except when you dare glance at Hoseok, he’s already looking. He must sense your discomfort, because then he’s saying, “My apologies, detective. We haven’t had proper introductions yet.”

He starts with the person to his left.

“This is Taehyung, our resident coroner. He runs the morgue downstairs.”

This is the first time you’ve made eye contact with Taehyung since you arrived in the house, and he doesn’t seem like the same man you met in the morgue. This man is at ease in his own home, a man who isn’t bound by professional constraints. He’s looking at you now less like a private investigator and more like a stranger that he doesn’t want to remain a stranger.

You’re not sure which you prefer.

“This is Jimin, he’s currently studying chemistry and marine biology at the university.”

Jimin meets your gaze when you glance at him, cocking his head back slightly and flashing a hint of those sharp teeth again.

“Yoongi, our genius little green thumb. He’s the one who keeps the place nice and lush,” Hoseok gushes, and Yoongi gives a little wave and straight-lipped smile, blushing only slightly.

“Namjoon, our favorite bookworm. And brilliant scholar! About to publish his third book.” Namjoon nods his head towards you with a small smile.

“And this is Jungkook, the youngest problem in the bunch,” Hoseok says, gesturing towards the young man in the pinstripe suit. Jungkook acknowledges you still somewhat nervously.

“Forgotten someone?” A voice calls.

Jin saunters into the room, having abandoned his apron for a lace jacket with sewn-on fabric flowers. He takes the empty seat to Hoseok’s right, straightening his hair. But it doesn’t like he’s been slaving in the kitchen this whole time at all. Not one stain on his clothes, not one dew drop of sweat.

“Could never forget you, darling,” Hoseok replies. “And this is Jin, our lovely chef who keeps us all so well fed.”

Jin gives a tiny little bow in your direction, along with one of his charming smiles.

There’s another pause, as if they’re waiting for you to say something. All you can think of is that they already know you, there’s no need for you to introduce yourself. So you say the first adjacent thing to come to your head:

“Glad to have met all of you.”

And you barely notice it, already looking down at your empty plate, but they simultaneously stifle the flutter in their gut.

“Alright,” Jin announces, clapping his hands together. “Let’s eat!”

Everyone but you, in near perfect synchronicity, grabs the silver cloche set before each of their table settings, and places it over their plate. Jimin gestures for you to do the same, so you obey.

When you remove it again, after everyone else does the same, the former empty plate is suddenly full. A thick and creamy soup, speckled with spices, steaming in a bread bowl crusted with garlic and herbs.

And of course no one bats an eye at the casual error in the law of physics, too busy passing around a bowl of greens to garnish and a bottle of red wine to fill their glasses. You don’t object when Taehyung holds the bottle over your own glass with a questioning raise of his eyebrow.

And by God, is it delicious. The cream base of the soup melts perfectly with hints of herbs and the peppery bite of truffle shavings. And of course, the best part is being able to break off a bit of flavored bread and dip it into the pot of gold before you.

“This is delicious,” you can’t help but blurt out, saying it like an aggressively objective fact.

“Thank you,” Jin replies, smiling wide like a child that was just complimented on their most recent art project. Except you can’t display a bowl of soup on the fridge, but you would if you could.

“Yoongi helped me forage the mushrooms,” Jin adds.

Mushrooms? Now that you think of it, the soup does have a distinct earthy taste.

“Do you forage often?” you ask, looking at Yoongi.

“Not as often as I’d like,” he replies.

“Why is that?” you ask, and a small smile tugs at Yoongi’s mouth. There’s a shared chuckle from around the table.

“What?” you blurt out, almost certain that they are making fun of you or know something that you don’t, probably both.

“You’re doing your interrogator voice,” Jimin says, but it doesn’t sound malicious, more like…endeared?

A look around the table, and everyone’s face matches the tone of his voice. He says it as if the two of you have known each other for years, as if you’re friends. It puts a strange, almost sickly feeling in your stomach. You set down your spoon.

Soon the air is filled with pleasant dinner-time chatter. They keep trying to bring you into the conversation, like you’re somehow one of them. But you’re here to get a job done.

It becomes exceedingly more difficult to concentrate solely on the case when the main course comes out. Again, due only to the covering and uncovering of your plates with the silver cloches, the remains of your soup disappearing.

A choice cut steak, generously seasoned, drizzled with a red wine sauce, a heap of garlic and herb mashed potatoes, and more mushrooms grilled to tenderness. You’re not normally fond of mushrooms, but these are surprisingly flavorful in a way you wouldn’t expect from a vegetable, let alone a fungus.

“They’re Pepperwood caps,” Jin says, as if reading your thoughts. “Yoongi grows them on the grounds.”

In all your research, you’ve never heard of Pepperwood caps.

“Hoseok isn’t eating them,” you say pointedly. “Neither is Jungkook,” you continue. There are no Pepperwood caps on either of their plates. Instead, a small pile of white capped mushrooms with brown spots.

“To my knowledge, those are Deadly Dapperlings, yes?”

They all look at each other.

“You don’t miss anything, do you detective?” Hoseok says with a little grin.

Your research on fungi has made you a novice at recognizing the lethal ones.

“Jungkook and I find that the poisonous ones have a particularly robust flavor,” Hoseok continues.

You watch him as he says it, waiting for him to elaborate, but he never does. So you return your attention to your perfectly cooked steak.

“I imagine you’re curious about what precisely the fuck we all are,” Jin interjects the silence, and your fork stops halfway to your mouth.

“Really all that needs to be said is that whatever you’ve already deduced is probably true.” He has his hands clasped together, his shirtsleeve riding up to expose the crescent-shaped bite mark on the inside of his wrist. He smiles when he notices you staring.

“Don’t worry,” he says, sounding amused. “I can be trusted around exposed neck flesh.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“So there’ll be no biting over the course of the evening?” you quip, only half joking.

Jin maintains his level gaze.

“Only if you want it desperately,” he replies.

You mold your face into a hard mask of indifference before you say something stupid.

“I must admit,” Taehyung begins. “I'm a little older than I look."

You stare at him like you’re trying to read a book. It’s true, he doesn’t look a day over thirty.

Jimin clears his throat.

"I'm not exactly...from here," he says, and when you look at him you swear you see something shift underneath his shirt.

The man in the peacock chair shifts.

"I'm a little more tuned into nature than most people," Yoongi adds. It’s only then that you notice that the dried flowers in their vases are leaning towards him like he’s the sun.

Jungkook is fidgeting in his chair, avoiding your gaze. But you can gather as much from the pallor of his skin and the deep-set dark circles under his eyes, both of which become clearer and easier to see the more times you look at him.

He has a ghostly air about him, like a whisper in the wind.

You look at Namjoon, and he smiles with a shrug.

"I just run a bookshop," he says.

A shared laugh sounds around the table. Namjoon rolls his eyes.

"Okay, maybe I've made a few blood pacts, but I'm a folklorist for Christ's sake!"

You genuinely can’t tell if he’s joking, but you suppose it doesn’t matter. Though, judging by what you’ve seen tonight, he’s probably telling nothing but the truth.

Finally, you turn to Hoseok.

“I’m…not all there,” he says, and you wait patiently for more.

He scratches the back of his head, looking like he’s trying to find the right words.

“You can see me sitting here, but it’s only half of me. You can touch me and hear my voice, but it’s not actually me. I need to be…contained.”

Now you’re staring at him in confusion.

“You ever read The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?” Namjoon asks.

Before you can answer, another loud clang of the bell is sounding. Everyone else merely looks at the clock, but you flinch violently at the skull-rattling volume of the noise.

Jin wipes the corner of his mouth with his cloth napkin and pushes his chair back. Everyone else does the same, covering their now empty plates with the silver cloches.

Hoseok rises to a stand.

“Would you like to join us for coffee and cocktails in the library? Dessert should be ready shortly,” Hoseok says, though it doesn’t sound much like question when he heads down the hallway without waiting for an answer. And apparently it didn’t sound like a question to anyone else either, because Jimin and Taehyung are soon pulling you up from your chair and leading you out of the room, with Jimin even wrapping one arm around yours as Taehyung presses himself to your side.

The library is a dark room, no less grand than the rest of the house, with the same candlelit chandelier and sconces. Floor to ceiling bookshelves wrap themselves around the entirety of the room, complete with a wooden ladder on a sliding rail. There’s a roaring fire in the fireplace, and plenty of leather chairs and couches gathered around it.

Jimin lets you go when the door is shut securely behind you.

“Who wants a drink?” Jin asks, heading over to the bar cart in the corner, but you’re more drawn to the tea set on the low table by the fireplace. It’s all black and gold, with little images of ravens on the cups and saucers.

You pour yourself a cup with cream and sugar, taking a languid sip and relishing in its perfect richness.

Jin distributes the drinks as he prepares them without having to ask anyone what they want. A glass of white wine for Taehyung, something sparkling and slightly radioactive looking for Jimin, that same blackberry concoction for Hoseok, hot toddies for Namjoon and Jungkook, and a glass of some citrusy cordial for Yoongi. When you get a closer look at his glass you notice that Jin even took the time to carve a little jack-o-lantern face into half a tangerine as a garnish.

Jin makes himself the dirtiest martini you've ever seen, with only half the glass with liquid in it, the top half being a copious pile of olives.

“So, detective,” Hoseok says, leaning against one of the bookshelves. “How can we be of service?”

Your eyebrows raise.

“You want to help?” you ask, still incredulous. Because to be honest, you’re not quite sure what the purpose of this evening is supposed to be. To intimidate you? Confuse you? Judging by the fact that you stalked them because they fell under your radar of suspicion. You figured that if they were going to offer to help they could’ve done it with an email.

“Of course,” Taehyung says from his seat on one of the couches. “The last thing I want is more bodies on my autopsy table due to deaths that could’ve been avoided.”

“And something is harming the wildlife,” Yoongi adds.

You set down your cup and saucer, digging in your bag to start spreading papers all around you.

“What’s the deal with the mayor?” you ask.

“She's...unpopular with the general population," Namjoon offers. "A little too different."

"She won the election, didn't she?" you counter.

"By the skin of her teeth," Jimin replies. "Minority vote kicked in at the last second. And a lot of people aren't happy about it."

"Different, huh?" you say. The implication is clear.

"Or at least, her ancestors were, and I think her daughter is too. Tends to run in the family, stuff like that," Taehyung adds.

"She looks out for those like us," Yoongi says. "When she can, that is. It's gotten a little harder these days."

"Why is that?" you ask.

Yoongi shrugs.

"That's just how it goes. Some times are harder than others."

"Is that why the mayor wanted everything off the record? Why there's hardly been any media coverage?" you ask.

"That's what I'm guessing," Yoongi replies.

"She's paying me out of pocket," you inform them.

"That doesn't surprise me much," Namjoon adds. "She's always been too generous for her own good. I imagine she cares more about this strange case than most of her colleagues."

"So she knows about all of your…proclivities? That’s why she sent me your way?” you ask.

“I’d be surprised if she didn’t,” Yoongi replies. “Normal people tend to think we’re weirdos, but those who are like us know when they’re looking in a mirror.”

"What about the paper?" you ask.

Their expressions cloud with confusion.

“Uh, what about it?”

Ah, have you finally breached the topic of something they want to hide?

“Several people have claimed to have negative experiences with the press, but the main publishers have barely commented on any of the cases.”

“Oh, you mean the Periscope Press,” Taehyung supplies.

Hmm, maybe they don’t have anything to hide after all. But that doesn’t mean you trust them yet.

“It’s an underground newspaper, independently published, geared towards folks like us. Though it’s mostly full of garbage these days, we don’t have a subscription,” Taehyung explains.

“We can get you copies of the last few editions, though,” Jungkook adds, startling you a little since you haven’t heard him speak much tonight. He suddenly looks down at his shoes like he just realized the fact too.

“If you want,” he says, this time in nearly a whisper.

“That would be great, thank you,” you reply graciously, though he continues to avoid your gaze.

“So, detective,” Hoseok begins, and with the drink his voice is a touch more gravelly. “What’s your next move?”

They’re all looking at you now, curious and waiting.

You look down at your notes and fight the urge to clench your fist, because to honest, you’re not sure.

“I’m sure our little sleuth has a plan,” Jimin quips from his place sprawled out across one of the couches.

“I’d like to get access to Bradley’s reports and records, and wear down Mrs. Bradley if at all possible,” you begin, forming a list in your head. “I’d like to continue fieldwork around the woods and the lake, maybe see if anyone at the university can do some tests on those unusual mushrooms. I’ll be continuing my rounds around town to see if any civilians have anything to offer. Hopefully I can get some more information on the ones still missing.”

“And the lake?” Jimin asks.

You don’t want to talk about the lake. Thinking about it puts a sinking feeling in your gut, the stench of hot poisoned salt water filling your nose.

You don’t want to talk about what you saw. In your line of work, simply seeing isn’t enough. All that matters is hard evidence. So that’s what you’re gonna get.

Downing the dregs of your coffee cup, you start to gather up your notes.

“You’re leaving?” Jimin says, sounding wounded. “Before dessert?”

“I’m afraid there’s some things I wanted to get done tonight,” you say, ready to retreat back into your hole and dive back into the distraction of your work, where there aren’t several pairs of sultry dark eyes watching your every move.

“I suppose it is getting late,” Hoseok says. Though he doesn’t mention that many of them either don’t need to sleep or simply prefer to be active into the darkest hours of the morning.

“Let us send you home with some goodies, hm?” Hoseok nods to his housemates.

Jin cuts you slice of blue velvet cake, packing it up in a little bento box container.

You object at first, saying you don’t want to take a container as nice as this one, but Jin just retorts with a wink, saying that you’ll just have to come back sometime to return it.

Yoongi takes some cuttings from one of the dining room table centerpieces, adding some clippings from plants around the house as fillers, and wraps the bouquet in brown paper tied neatly with a bow. He hands it to you with a shy expression.

Namjoon gifts you a small stack of books, bound together by a leather strap, with The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde at the top of the pile. He gives you a smile when you notice.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Jungkook says when they lead you through the dark halls to the front door, which you didn’t expect.

He carries your gifts as the two of you travers first the cobblestone path and then the small hill down to where you parked your car.

“Sorry we’re so strange. And vague. I imagine it’s frustrating,” he says suddenly.

The walk up to this point has been completely silent, so the sound of his voice startles you just a bit.

“Yes, you’re all very weird,” you say, and Jungkook’s face sinks.

“If any of you ever change I’ll be very disappointed,” you finish, and that puts a full smile on his face, full enough that you can see the bunny-like jut of his front teeth.

A few moments of silence, the wind singing a low song.

“You’re very cynical, you know,” he says.

That makes you look at him, but his face is that same neutral expression, dark eyes wide like a young doe’s. He says it like a simple observation, not with the judgmental you’re used to hearing.

“Am I?” you reply, unable to choke back the little sarcastic bite to your tone.

He nods.

“You think no one could ever believe you just for the sake of believing you. You think you need to prove yourself.”

You stare at him, long and hard enough to miss the fact that the two of you have reached your car.

He opens the door for you, and you’re glad that you’re heading to the safety of your home because all these kind gestures are starting to make you feel weird.

After you start the engine, Jungkook leans down to look at you through the open window.

“Try not to worry about the case so much,” he says softly. “Trust your instincts, you’ll figure it out.”

There’s a moment of silence where you stare at him some more, wondering how a man who’s been so quiet and shy for the duration of the evening can shock you dumb with just a handful of words.

“Thank you, Jungkook,” you manage after a while. “And thank the others for a lovely meal.”

He nods and smiles, backing up to let you drive off down the hill.

Back at home, you make a fresh pot of coffee and tuck into that slice of cake while you draft an email to the mayor detailing your most recent findings.

Then you look through all the books you have on mushrooms, even go to the internet, but you find absolutely nothing on Pepperwood caps. To the rest of the world, they don’t exist.

You fall asleep with The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde lying open in your hand.

~~~

a/n: thanks for your patience! :)

#bts ot7 #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #bts series #bts x fem!reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts mystery #bts angst #bts poly au

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