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manicpixiefelix · 3 months

Text

at the other end of the leash

{ One-Shot for head, heart, hand. }

@vannyangelxoxo asked: can you write Felix beating someone’s ass for reader? Summary: You convince Felix to go with you to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in one of the last weeks of Summer before you begin your first year at Oxford University. While out on the town during the Festival, Felix finds himself enchanted with one of the performers, an avant-guarde acrobat named Magnus. The perfect night quickly goes south, however, as Felix discovers someone trying to take advantage of you, and he immediately steps in. Of course.

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons. Set at the end of Summer before Felix and Reader start their first year of university at Oxford. Established Bi Felix.

Warnings: heavy themes; reader is slipped a roofie at a club and a stranger attempts to take them home, and it's heavily implied that he plans to assault them. felix gets there in time, which leads to the second warning of VIOLENCE. felix beats that motherfucker to a bloody mess. it doesn't get super gorey/explicit but there is a lot of blood. also there is discussions of nudity, non explicit sex, and recreational drug use in the club.

A/N: 6053 words. well, would you look at that. another request that got outrageously out of hand. this is also a personal homage to Edinbugh Fringe Festival, my beloved, my home for 6 weeks of the year. id also like to state that it's a wonderful place to be; the roofie plot is 100% fictionalised. the rest of it is a pastiche of real things that i have actually experienced. i cannot stress enough the raw animal attraction of a man named magnus who can and will flirt with anyone and everyone while getting drinks after his shows, who performs several times a week with his dick out, wearing eyeliner, heavily tattooed, who smokes and has pretty eyes. that's all i have to say about that.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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"Come on Fi, it's the last weeks of Summer before we start uni," you'd been rather desperately imploring, as if Felix had ever known how to refuse you when you actually wanted something, "you know Monty Python started there before they were even Monty Python," you told him knowingly, which was certainly interesting, though not particularly relevant. Finally you sighed, splaying yourself out over the sofa you'd been sitting, looking up at him from as he entered the room. Now you were spread out foolishly, childishly, looking up at him with imploring eyes, "Fi we've spent a month lazing around the house and I know your parents have no other events planned before we go back, except for the party on the second last night; we'll be back before then, I promise! I want to spend time watching strange show, meeting people I'd never imagine, and drinking cocktails named after famous poets from rustic bars!"

It had been your suggestion to go to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival for a few days, and despite the exhaustingly long train ride and the hotel prices that would probably cripple anyone less well off than you - Felix had agreed. Of course he'd agreed; you sounded so hopeful.

Which is how you'd found yourself in an underground club on a Friday night, dancefloor packed with more bodies than sense, and a twenty minute line for drinks. Tonight he'd been feeling especially bold, forgoing a jacket altogether, spending time in the mirror with you before heading out to see the show you'd chosen for the evening - a compelling one-man show about being gay in Australia, in a less compelling, cramped venue. So now here he was, in one of his more fetching dark, silk, button-down t-shirts, eyeliner on his waterline, mascara even though he claimed to not need it, a touch of glitter by his temples, and his favourite brown lipstick that he'd agonised over.

Not long after you'd come out, you'd tried wearing eyeliner with the male, private school uniform - I can- I should be allowed to do whatever I want, right? - and the minute after Felix had gotten out of suspension for smacking a kid who called you a slur, he went out and bought his own eyeliner. His collection had only grown from there. It really was a shame that people seemed to think it was reserved for femininity. Well, as it turned out, people who weren't part of things like Fringe Festivals.

Felix fit right in tonight.

It's a little thrilling; these people, in neon underwear and wigs and makeup that would forever outshine his own efforts, they look at him differently. Drugs passed around him - oh darling, would you like some? But once he'd ask what they were and the kind soul goes to check, they're pulled away by some other shiny thing to focus on. Always too close, tits out with nipple pasties being sweated off, he's sure he saw someone's dick out on the dance floor, the most beautiful, feminine, sculpted faces on the hairiest male bodies sporting only a gold speedo. Confusing and foreign and everyone smiling at him.

Felix wasn't quite sure where you'd gotten too, especially not since he'd found himself caught in the blue-eyed gaze of a stocky punk with a face tattoo and carefully loose hair pulled back into a low bun. Nose piercings and ears with stretched holes that Felix could see all the way through, black silicone bordering the void almost like it was intended to match the black makeup around his eyes, though it looks worn, half sweated through. Still, Felix can't help but be enchanted by the way it made his blue eyes peak so brightly through. Felix didn't think he had much of a type when it came to guys, but he'd always found something very charming about dark hair and blue, mischievous eyes.

"Magnus," he'd introduced himself as with much confidence and yelling over the music, and when Felix introduced himself, asked if he was here for the festival, Magnus smiles wider. Felix thinks very distinctly of biting. "Actually here blowing off steam after a show," a performer then, "part of an avant guarde acrobatics troupe," a very flexible performer.

"How... long have you been doing that?"

"About three years now," Magnus squints into the distance as he tried to recall, "since I was nineteen."

"Oh," Felix brightens up, adding without thinking, "I'm nineteen." And immediately hangs his head with embarrassment. Thankfully, instead of calling him a kid - despite only being twenty-two; everyone in their twenties seemed to like calling him a baby, even if they'd turned twenty yesterday - and laughs.

"Oh thank god," he claps Felix on the shoulder, "because I was definitely going to ask."

"It's a pub," Felix points out, as if no-one underage has ever snuck into a pub ever. Magnus gives him a sidelong smile.

"With no security in sight, mate," he snorted. Felix had noticed that drugs were being passed around like candy, but he hadn't really considered it beyond that. Magnus, however, points to a couple that have been grinding on each other on a bar stool several feet away, "he's been fucking her like that for the past fifteen minutes." Felix's brows shot up.

"Really?!" He gasped; Magnus grinned like the Cheshire cat, mentioning in a far too offhand way that they were also friends of his, "should we move?"

"It's the furthest you're going to be from some kind of sex act unless you want to go outside," he gave a loud, pleased sigh at the environment, seeming entirely at home. Felix is struck with the immediate and vivid image of Magnus in his beautiful leather jacket pressing him up against this very wall, hand slipping beneath the waistband of Felix's pants; the freedom of everyone seeing and nobody caring and -

"What's avant guarde about it-" Felix clears his throat awkwardly, "the acrobatics, I mean, if I may ask?" Felix tries to remain polite while he knows he's blushing all over. All he hopes is that this man beside him that he's just met can't tell how loudly he's thinking holy shit have I met someone who could throw me around the room with ease? Is that something I want? He's never really thought about it before -

"You ever seen three people stand on each other's shoulders all at once in the full monty?" As if that's a real question Felix is supposed to have a real answer to, but Magnus stood just a little taller, just a little prouder, "I'm the lad at the bottom, holding us all secure, cock out for the world to see." What a fucking mental image.

Magnus also informs Felix that the tattoo on his face, the delicate dagger, has its match somewhere else on his body. It's with a staggering amount of confidence that immediately flusters Felix that Magnus tells him he can either buy a ticket to the show, or buy him a drink if he'd like to see it. He's pretty sure he's never been so directly and effectively hit on before in his entire life. Yes, counting the trips you, he, Farleigh, and Venetia took to France that Summer in high school.

Standing in line, thinking about beautiful, punk, acrobat Magnus and what Felix can only assume is his tattooed cock, it takes him a long while to realise that he's nearing the bar and has been staring at some guy's drinks for a full minute. Something colourful and fizzing, something with vodka he's pretty sure. It takes another moment to register something falling into one of the drinks from between the man's fingers as he goes to take them away -

"Hey!" It could have been an accident, it could have been nothing, but Felix wouldn't be able to forgive himself if it wasn't, "dude, hey!" He tries to snatch at the guy's denim jacket, but he slips into the crowd. Trying to jam himself up to the bar, despite everyone else's annoyance, he tries to tell the bartender, but the man's already disappeared too far.

Vaguely distressed, but mostly dejected, he steps back to his place, and waiting another few long moments for his turn at the bar. Even as his gaze roams the crowd for the potential bastard, he can't seem to see him. But he looses track of his thoughts on the matter when he gets back to Magnus, leaning against the wall with half a cigarette tucked behind his ear, and those gorgeous blue eyes drinking in Felix as he approaches.

"Was almost worried I'd lost you there," he slings an arm around Felix's waist, drawing him in close, accepting the drink with a grin, and all Felix can think about is how warm he is, how he smells sweet and like rich herbs and smoke. He asks what Felix does, and Felix tries his very best not to sound as young as he suddenly feels -

"Remains to be seen," he leans into speak into Magnus's ear, musting the confidence he knows he usually has in spades, wrapping his own arm around Magnus's shoulders, "about to start at Oxford in a few days -"

"Oxford!" Felix isn't sure if Magnus is teasing him or not. He's also not sure that he minds, he kind of wants the man to keep looking at him- keep smiling at him like that.

He's so enraptured by the company he's found for himself that it almost startles him when you come stumbling out of the crowd, off of the dance floor, beaming and sweating, holding a half-finished drink.

"Fi, there you are- oh my, hi, hello!" You're already giving Magnus a million watt smile, clearly quite drunk. Felix catches you with his free hand, having finished his own drink not too long ago.

"Hello, sweetheart," Magnus greets you warmly, but with an unmistakable hint of reservation, gaze momentarily flicking between yourself and Felix, trying to reassess the situation in the blink of an eye. You don't seem to notice that, however, simply standing a little taller, subtly preening at the pet name.

"Y/N is my best mate," Felix leans in close to Magnus to explain, voice fond in his ear, "the reason I'm here at all." And there's that smile again, all warm and amused and Magnus' eyes shining in a way that makes Felix want to let him do terrible, unspeakable things to him.

"Lucky for us both then, that you have such a darling friend."

Performers are a different fucking breed of people, Felix can't help but think to himself, even as Magnus turns - arm never leaving it's place around Felix - to properly introduce himself to you. He thinks it again watching Magnus charm you just as easily, even if he wasn't trying to outright hit on you the way he had been with Felix.

"I was just- I was just-" you stumble over your words, taking another sip of your drink - something colourful and fizzing, vodka something, you'd said with an offhand frown, a lovely guy I've been dancing with bought it for me - while you take Magnus' offered free hand to steady yourself, "I was thinking of heading back to the hotel pretty shortly, I'm a bit -" you make a vague hand gesture. Before you can even finish the sentiment, however, the next song begins and you light up. Finishing your drink, you grab Felix's free hand with your own, tugging them both towards the dance floor, begging them for one dance.

"How could I say no to a face like that?" Magnus teases, letting himself be dragged onto the dancefloor, Felix adding with a fond smile.

"Trust me, I wouldn't know."

Glad for the company, you gleefully let loose amongst the crush of bodies, and there's something both endearing, and endlessly attractive, about how happy Magnus seems to match your energy. The three of you jumping around to The Sex Pistols, Magnus shouting along with all of the lyrics and seemingly impressed that you and Felix at the very least seem to know some of them.

After the song, however, you seem to slip back into the crowd on the dancefloor, as if once more transfixed by the lights and movement and heat of the night. Magnus, however, leans in and asks if Felix smokes.

Outside it's far easier to breathe. It's cooler too. Still, Magnus pulls off his leather jacket, ties it around his hips, leaving him in a tight, white t-shirt. Felix has known in a roundabout way that he wasn't straight for quite some time, but damn did reminders like this not feel like being hit by a truck. Covered in tattoos and with the kind of arms and shoulders the Greeks could model statues of gods from, Felix knows he's staring but quite literally does not know how to stop.

Except then Magnus is pulling out an actual, metal cigarette deck, offering it to Felix for him to take one, and Felix is pretty sure this is the coolest person he's ever met in his life.

"I love these," Magnus takes Felix's hand in his free one, clicking the cigarette deck closed and sliding it smoothly back into his pocket, "these are cute," he's looking at the silly, little collection of stars tattooed on his hand. They look like nothing compared to the ink all over Magnus, but he seems genuine in his interest.

"Surprise gift for my sister," Felix hears himself say, cigarette between his lips as he fumbles in his pockets for a lighter.

"For your sister?"

"Well it was a surprise to me too," Felix chuckles at the memory, "Y/N and I organised for me and Venetia to get matching tattoos of her choice for her birthday."

"You... didn't know?" Magnus snorts, dropping Felix's hand to take the half-cigarette out from behind his ear, holding it out for Felix to light.

"Well I'm not opposed, I've got a couple of tattoos - nothing like yours," he grins, and Magnus's gaze meets his, flashing with that same amusement and attraction as in the club that had so captivated Felix in the first place, "but I'm kind of surprised that that's what Y/N gifted her?"

"Did your sister not like it?"

"No, that's the thing, I've actually never seen Ven react like that to a gift before," Felix muses; smiling at the memory, "of course she was a menace about it at first; I was worried she'd been given too much power," he snorted, tipping his head to look at Magnus, only to see those blue eyes gazing back, as if hanging on Felix's every word, "do you know how close I came to having a tramp stamp?"

"As if you wouldn't look fantastic with a tramp stamp," Magnus snorted.

However before the story can even be finished, the door to the club opens and both turn at the sound of your voice.

"No, I need some water first -" you sound very wrong. The person beside you, a man who looks vaguely familiar, though Felix is sure it's not his face, is setting almost too brisk of a pace.

"Come on, there's water back at my place, remember?"

"I need to go back to the hotel," you tried to insist, "and water- 'm gonna throw up in the taxi."

"You'll be fine, I promise, I've got you." The man's hailing at taxi, while you're swaying on your feet, looking even more out of it than you had when they'd last seen you.

Felix is moving on instinct, without hesitation, without even thinking.

"The fuck are you doing?" His voice raises, and the man turns right as a taxi is pulling up, looking at Felix with blatant irritation, not appearing to be intimidated in the slightest.

"Back off man, my friend isn't feeling well-" the bastard lies through his teeth, even as you of course recognise Felix, and take his arm, mumbling that you felt sick, "see?" He actually tries to pry you away from Felix, "I'm taking care of them, no need to worry -" but Felix puts his hand on yours, secure. Just as well, since you start to list and lean and lose your balance.

"Fi," you mutter weakly, pitifully, "help."

And that's when Felix realises what he recognises about the man; the jacket that slipped through his fingers at the bar. The man he'd seen dose your drink, as it turned out.

Felix has never seen red in his life the way he has in this moment.

Fury simmers white-hot just beneath his skin, though he keeps himself calm and collected as he gently walks you over to the wall of the club, easing you into a sitting position. All the while the bastard that was with you is berating him, saying you just needed to get somewhere to lie down. Magnus, however, seems to understand what's happening, and sits himself down beside you at the wall, quietly asking one of the many onlooker to go inside and grab some water for you.

"Fine, sit 'em on the filthy fucking pavement in the middle of the city instead of letting them lie down in a bed to sleep it off; you feel good? You feel like a hero for not letting me take my friend home -?"

There is an audible crack when Felix's fist makes impact with the bastard's nose. He knows once his adrenaline wears off it's going to hurt like a motherfucker, but it's worth it. More blood splatters across them both than Felix was anticipating from his wonky uppercut, but he doesn't care. The man half recovers, unsteady, but he gets a hit on Felix's cheeks with a fist full of rings, but he seems almost disorientated. Felix goes for the throat this time, satisfaction being the sound of the man choking on his gurgle of pain.

Felix isn't quite sure what it was that sent the bastard crashing to the ground, but he does know that he's tearing through that man's coat pockets like a feral beast before he finds the bottle of pills like the one he saw fall into your drink.

It's like the entire world stops for this one second.

His knuckles ache, covered in blood that isn't his own, clutching the same roofies that were now coursing through your blood, making you weak and vulnerable and prey to bastards like this. His head spins, fury spitting in his veins, blood singing to tear this man apart. There were on lookers, a gasping crowd, but for some reason no bouncer in sight, no-one stopping this.

And you, sitting against the wall of the pub, tucked up against Magnus who had a protective arm around you and was looking at the man beneath you with something cold in his eyes. His other hand was balancing a glass of water on his leg next to you, for you, but you didn't move, just looked at your hands, helpless. Magnus's cold gaze slides to meet Felix's, and there's something approving in his eyes. He gives the faintest nod.

Felix kind of blacks out after that.

The next thing he remembers is being shoved into a taxi rather frantically, hearing Magnus shout - well get him on his side so he doesn't choke on his blood before the ambulance arrives. You're already in, leaning against the window seat, gazing vacantly out of it. Felix gently touches your shoulder once the door shuts behind him- fuck that seems like a lot of blood? When did that happen? You make a vague hum of acknowledgement, so Felix shuffles over to the middle seat and coaxes you to rest against him.

"Fi?"

"Of course," he cradles you against him.

"Fi," your voice is weak, he can hear you beginning to sniffle. Your words come out awkwardly, slurred terribly, "feels wrong, c'nt.. m've."

"I know, I'm sorry," Felix feels the tears in his own eyes, "you'll be okay, I'm here, you'll be okay." He can't believe he let this happen. The front door opens, and Magnus's voice greets the driver.

"Sorry about the state of them in the back -"

"'s Friday, laddie," the terribly aged, terribly Scottish taxi driver says blithely, "where shall I be takin' yas?"

Magnus looks over the back to you both, expression concerned, but genuine, and asks for the address of your hotel. Felix takes a moment to compose himself, but finally gives it, and the drive commences in silence.

It seems only natural for Magnus to also get out once you've all arrived, easily sliding into step with Felix as they both wrapped one of your arms around their shoulders and helped get you back through the hotel and up to your room.

"Thank you, Magnus," Felix says softly as he fishes the key from his pocket, "I'm so sorry about how the night turned out." Magnus actually laughed at that, and Felix opened the door.

"Felix, if the context weren't so dramatically, disgustingly awful, this would be the most fun night I've had all Fringe." And you all shuffle inside, Felix guiding you all towards the bedroom to lay you down, "nice room by the way," Magnus looks around as he passes through, "who's cock did you have to suck to afford it in the middle of the Fringe?"

"I..." Felix hesitates, "don't know if that's a first meeting kind of question."

"Well played, Oxford boy," Magnus says, but there's no malice behind the nickname, "I have my theories, though." Part of Felix is glad Magnus is there, to help lighten the load, lighten the mood, even a little.

They lay you gently on the bed, and Felix is just glad that you seemed to finally have fully passed out. He can't begin to imagine the horrors that were going on inside your head. Then it's just the two of them. And the built in wardrobe across the room with it's floor to ceiling mirror.

And all that blood on Felix.

"I look the fucking American Psycho," it's fucking horrific! What did he do? Magnus, sitting on the end of the bed with one knee crossed over the other gives an amused smile.

"You actually kind of do."

"It's not good!" Felix approaches the mirror like he's in a damn horror movie, scrubbing at his cheeks with little success, but with a surprising amount of sharp pain, "the fuck did I do? Is this all his?" Magnus, in the mirror, is looking at him curiously, "Magnus, seriously, the fuck did I do?"

"You were fucking beautiful, Felix," Magnus says, sounding almost awed. Felix stopped; there was nothing flirty, nothing about it that wasn't genuine. Wait holy shit, Felix realises, are these fucking butterflies in his chest? Now of all times?

Then, in the next moment, Magnus blinks, clearing his throat loudly, like he hadn't meant to say that. For the first time all night he looks genuinely flustered, dropping his gaze.

"You hospitalised a fucking rapist, is what you did," he said matter-of-factly with a nod - he'd nodded before, it's the last thing Felix really remembers - "proved your point to everyone there finding those fucking pills; that was a good move. I mean, I had to explain what the fuck was happening to our little audience while I was dragging you off him - didn't think you wanted to kill him."

"Thanks," Felix says weakly. Then, softly, looking down at his shaking hands, "should I go to the police?"

"For doing a public service?" Magnus snorts, shaking his head, "no, there's at least a dozen girls who will attest to him acting threatening, and to Y/N's behaviour - who was thankfully taken away by an actual kind friend - and that he admitted in a fit of rage to spiking the drinks. He'll be the one in jail if anything." It's so... easy. So nonchalant.

When Felix asks, confusion, disbelief, innocence in his voice, Magnus just smiles like the easiest thing in the world, and says he's an actor, it's his job.

"You don't have to be doing all of this," Felix covers the room in a few short steps, knowing he'll never have the words to thank this stranger for all he's done tonight.

"Are you kidding me? I'm going to be telling this story for the rest of my life," Magnus grins brightly, and his eyes shine just like that had hours ago, before everything went to hell. He leans in conspiratorially, "you broke his fucking ribs."

"I think I broke more than his ribs," Felix says with a tentatively proud smile. Magnus nodded in absolute agreement. Then, after a moment.

"Have a shower, Felix," he said, "I'm going to go downstairs to the petrol station, see what they have there, and be back in a bit; is it okay with you if I crash on the sofa -?"

"You don't have to do all this, seriously, it's late, please go home," Felix implores, taking Magnus's face in his hands. Magnus, however, looks at him like he's a fool.

"I'm going to make sure you're both okay," he pets Felix's hand on his cheek, smiling so sincerely, "and besides, if I'm down getting stuff, that way you can have a shower and know I'm not using that time to be a creep towards Y/N while you're busy."

After a moment of deliberation, Felix pulls Magnus in to press several kisses to his forehead, calling him an absolute Godsend, while Magnus laughs to hide how flustered it makes him.

The shower is where the adrenaline really starts to wear off and the ache of the fight sets into his muscles and bones. The mirror mists over and the droplets still cling where he wipes his hand over. His knuckles are bruised, as is his face, scratches and split lip and gashes where the rings had punctures his cheek. The makeup and eyeliner that he didn't think to properly remove before his shower probably makes it look a little worse than it is.

There's scratches on his throat, his collar, shallower on his chest where the bastard had tried to get him through his shirt while he was trapped beneath Felix on the ground. Scratches up his arms as the man fought a losing battle.

He takes one of the makeup wipes from the pack and cleans up his face as best he can as the first step. It helps, but not by a lot. Back in the bedroom, once he's dry, he searches his suitcase for pyjamas, getting himself dressed.

In there, there is a long few moments where he watches you sleep, watches the steady rise and fall of your breathing and sees the dried tear tracks on your cheeks.

"Fi, help."

God, he's tearing up at the memory. He should have stopped that cunt at the bar when he'd had the chance, when he first saw it happen. Never in his life has he heard you sound genuinely weak until tonight; his hands shake.

Before he gets you cleaned up, however, he feels like he needs to check... Magnus really didn't have to come back. Yeah, sure, he said he would, but if he got tired, if he needed to call it a night, Felix would not blame him in the slightest. He really was surprisingly lovely, and part of Felix would probably regret not getting his number, but it was understandable -

Magnus is sitting cross-legged in the hall, across from his door, eating a slice of white bread from a grocery bag by his side. In his other hand, he's texting.

"Give us a second, just letting the troupe know I'm fine."

Felix blinks at him. Felix waits. Magnus's thumb works the digits of the Nokia he's focusing on, before he must hit send, satisfied. Then, tucking the phone back into one of the inner pockets of his jacket, he looks up, eyes still that same, bright blue. He looks genuinely pleased to see Felix. Felix, for his part, is genuinely pleased to see him too. Surprised as well, if he was being honest, but pleased.

"You look much better," Magnus comments, and pushes himself to his feet. Bag looped in his arm, Felix sees it's a few basic supplies, bread, maybe some spread, something he can't identify, and something bright red. He offers to pay; Magnus tries to shrug it off, but Felix finally gives a self deprecating smile, gesturing around to the rather luxury hotel room they were in. Magnus gives himself a moment to take it all in again, and finally sighs, smiles, gives in.

He does, however, insist on making them both food.

Grilled cheese; all he could find on short notice since it was getting to the early hours of the morning. Felix watches for a few long moments, the way Magnus moves around the kitchenette with practiced ease, like a man used to these spaces, to life on the road. Felix finds he enjoys just watching Magnus; perhaps this is how people have often felt about him. Magnus doesn't watch him, he feels rather free.

"Do you want to take off your makeup," Felix pipes up just as Magnus reaches for the stove. Magnus freezes, "if you're staying, and being so kind as to make me food, the least I can offer is for you to make yourself comfortable."

"Should have suspected you'd be a good host," Magnus grins over his shoulder, and gently puts the pan down, leaving the stove off for the time being. So Felix directs him to the bathroom and tells him to take all the time he needs, and himself heads to the bedroom. Fishing his wallet from the jeans he'd discarded for the night, he pulls out two fifty pound notes. It's far more than the contents of the grocery bag, but Felix definitely doesn't care. It's so little for how kind he's been.

Opening the bedroom door, however, and he almost runs into Magnus, startling the both of them. Even with the remnants of his makeup still clinging around his eyes, the faintest traces of stubborn eyeliner and mascara, he looks fresh-faced and beautiful. Startled, both by the abruptness, and the fact that he might be even more taken with this man without his makeup on, all Felix can do is hold out the money. Magnus seems to thaw first, chuckles, shakes his head, and calls Felix incredibly generous. Unsurprisingly, Felix insists that it's not generous, it's simply fair compensation for his kindness.

After a moment, Magnus peers around Felix, asking how you were. Felix finally relaxes, assures him that for now you're fine. Magnus's expression is understanding, but still very knowing, as his gaze flicks between Felix and you.

"You take care of them, I'll take care of food," he insists gently. Before Felix can even ask how Magnus knew what that he still wanted to make sure you were comfortable, Magnus pats his chest fondly, "you beat a man half to death for them, I assume you want them to sleep in comfort."

Yeah. Fair. Good assessment of the night, and of Felix.

So Felix smiles, thanks him, and trusts him in the kitchen.

Felix treats you with such reverence in these moments, wiping off your makeup with such care, changing you into your pyjamas while he made sure there were no bruises, no scratches, no sign of this bastard anywhere on you. But no, thankfully not. He could have killed that bastard. Sounds like he almost did.

You frown in your sleep. Felix's heart hurts. But there's nothing more to be done for now.

Magnus is humming softly in the kitchen, a gentle sound amid the comforting sizzle of butter in a pan. Felix watches from the doorway for a long moment, the gentle, neutral expression, the focus on the food, the way he's retied his hair to catch all the hair that had so casually been hanging around his face back at the bar. There's something else different about him, however, and it's not the lack of leather jacket or makeup, it's something Felix can't put his finger on for a good few moments.

"Did you get shorter?"

Magnus stops humming. His gaze slides to Felix out of the corner of his eyes, expression unreadable. Then his gaze drops to the ground, and Felix follows; Magnus is wearing Christmas socks on the cold tiles. After a beat, Felix puts two and two together, and Magnus gives a vaguely sheepish laugh the minute he stalks around the kitchen island to the door. There's a pair of gigantic, black boots sitting primly by the door.

The absurdity of this, on top of everything else, finally has Felix laughing, collapsing against the kitchen island, face in his hands, as Magnus cackles quietly by the stove.

"What even is this night?" Felix groans through his fingers.

"One to remember," Magnus responds sagely as he served the first of the grilled cheeses onto a waiting plate, "the good parts, at least, and the good in the bad," immediately he puts another blob of butter in the pan, "and when you look back, you won't see the rage or the fear," he puts the second set of bread and cheese in the pan before picking up the plate with the first, finished dish, "you'll simply recall the love that inspired it all."

"You're so wise," Felix sighs fingers curling down so he could rest his chin on his fists, glad for the man he'd met by chance just a few hours before, "how'd you get so wise doing backflips in your birthday suit, Magnus?" He can feel himself growing tired, finally, as a yawn hits him, "is that something I should try?" Magnus laughs once again, putting the plate of food in front of Felix. He settles across from him, mirroring with his chin on his hand over the kitchen island.

"I take chances on people who intrigue me."

Somehow this terrible night has come full circle; you're comfortable and safe, there's nothing to worry about, and Felix desperately wants to kiss this damn acrobat who's in his hotel room making him grilled cheese at three in the morning.

"Magnus?"

"Yes, Felix," he murmurs back, smiling softly.

"Is that why you're still here, being so... lovely?"

But there's something in Magnus's eyes that dims at the question, just a little. Taking a deep, hesitant breath, his smile turns a touch awkward as he pushes off of the counter to check on the stove. Felix follows him with his eyes, confused, unsure of what he could have said that was wrong.

"I suppose that could be the short answer," Magnus offers, idly. Felix is quiet, crosses his arms on the bench and sinks down to rest his head there, almost childishly, waiting, "don't know if this is a first-meeting discussion either." Magnus finally comes to, though his tone is thankfully lighter.

Silence. Slowly, Felix sits himself back up and starts on the grilled cheese in front of him, quietly thanking Magnus who once again assures him it's no trouble. They sit and eat in silence together; it's not awkward, but Felix is growing more tired with each moment that passes.

"I'm five-seven," Magnus offers without prompting, halfway through the impromptu meal. Felix snorts so hard he starts almost choking on a lump of cheese. Magnus claps him on the back, snickering to himself. Felix, while trying to blink away the way his eyes are watering, peers over to the boots by the door once more, "six inch platforms."

"Fucking hell, how do you walk around in them?" Felix says between thankfully clearing coughs, "you don't perform in them, do you?"

"Fuck no," Magnus grins, "it's not that hard -"

"They'd make me near about seven foot!" Felix crows.

"Maybe next time you can try them on."

Next time.

Even as Magnus spends the next half hour tending to Felix's wounds, advising on how to take care of his muscles, Felix can't stop grinning to himself. Then Magnus says it again, wearing a grin of his own;

"I'm not kidding, I'm going to make sure you're taking care of yourself next time I see you."

"You promise?" Felix wears a wide, goofy grin, clearly giddy at the prospect, enough so that Magnus can't help but finally pull him in for a kiss.

"Promise, Felix."

#felix catton x reader #saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #felix catton x reader x oliver quick #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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yeoja-dream · 4 months

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Found/Fated/Forever

Part 1

Pairing: BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre: Fantasy, eventual smut, porn with plot, slow burn, hurt/comfort

Characters: Supernatural!BTS, Vampire!Jungkook, Supernatural!Reader

Content Warning: Woman in danger, roofie mention

Word Count: 3,500

It was a miserable fucking night. Granted it had also been a miserable fucking day, The rain had come down in sheets all throughout the day and well into the night, bringing the temperature down considerably. It was certainly summer, but as your thigh-high boot clicked against the wet sidewalk, you swore you could see your breath.

I just had to fucking go out. You grumbled internally, shivering in your mini skirt and leather coat. It should have been plenty warm enough for a summer night, but even the weather seemed to be flipping you off today. Let’s just get black-out drunk, hook up with a stranger, and forget today ever happened. You hyped yourself up while rounding the corner to your favorite nightclub.

The line was sparse, on account of the rain you supposed. Not that you ever really had to wait in line for this place anyways, you knew all the bouncers and if any gave you a hard time, you’d flash a little cleavage and be on your way.

Despite the minimal line outside, indoors was as lively as any other Saturday night. The DJ tonight was someone local, you overheard, not bad you mused, moving through the crowd to an empty bar seat. Mostly trap beats, but his remixes were decent and the dance floor reflected his musical proficiency.

“Y/N” The bartender, a salt and pepper man in his 40s regarded you warmly. “What will it be tonight?”

“David.” You said back. “I thought you had a date tonight? I was expecting to see Vanessa. Sure the usual.” You slid your card forward, starting your tab.

“You drink so many cosmos we are going to have to start calling you Nebula, you know,” David said, picking up the ingredients to your drink. “Vanessa and I switched. Date bailed. She must have known you were coming in and got jealous,” He added with a wink.

“You flatter me.” You replied. “Nebula is too metal of a knick name for such a girly drink.”

“Eh,” David replied, sliding your glass toward you. “I’ve seen you, you could out-drink any man in this place. Makes me feel bad for your wallet.”

“You and I both.” You said, sipping on the pink liquid. “It’s good. Strong. Make yourself something, it’s on me.”

“And that’s why you are my favorite customer, cheers,” David replied, before sliding off to the other end of the bar, busily helping other patrons.

The bar seats here spun, a trait you always appreciated for easy people-watching. Picking up your drink and swiveling your seat around, you surveyed the crowd like you did most weekends. Mostly, it was boring. You watched them have fun, be messy, get into arguments, meet new friends, new lovers, it was fun, like watching a TV show of what your life could have looked like if things had been different. Some nights you’d spot a creep, someone slipping drugs into drinks or stalking ex-partners and you’d alert the bouncers to kick them out. Some nights you’d chat with someone silver-tongued and deep-pocketed to keep you interested, some nights that person would talk you into bed.

It was cyclical if you had to really psychoanalyze yourself. The theme: unfulfillment, dissatisfaction, and unhappiness. It was easy, much easier anyway, to find comfort in these fleeting, temporary flings, to find purpose in playing superhero and saving a drunk woman from a creep, to find community in the transactional relationships held with people like David. But maybe you were thinking too much about things again, what the hell did you know? You were there, in that nightclub, just like everyone else.

You swiveled around again, signaling to David you were ready for your next cosmo. He had it ready just as soon as you could raise your hand.

“Looks like you got something on your mind tonight. I’ll keep ‘em coming,” David said handing you your next drink.

“Thanks.” You said, taking it from him. “Don’t forget to make something for yourself!” You called after him.

“I love drinking on your dime, don’t worry about me~” He replied with a hand wave.

Before you can turn back to your self-centered musings, a zip of light darted through your periphery. Magic? It had been a minute since you had seen someone else use it, but surely you had to be mistaken right? Why would a place like this have magic?

You snapped and turned to the side, scanning the patrons carefully, but it only took a few seconds to realize who it was who had been casting. A man stood in the corner, tall with dark, masculine features, his shoulders were broad, his chest and torso the perfect V. He wore a plain, dark, fitted t-shirt that showed off large, corded arms. He was the picture of masculinity, attractive by anyone’s standards, and as you regarded him now, he was entirely silhouetted in magic. The silver, translucent aura was unmistakable. Glamour magic.

He had to be an incubus right? The only other creatures capable of glamour magic like that are the tirions, but those were exceptionally rare. You could relate to that. As you pondered the possibilities, you noticed a small, curly-haired blonde woman, undoubtedly human by the way she seemed in awe of this male. You needed to get closer, you decided slipping off your seat and pushing through the bodies until you were in earshot.

“So, why don’t you finish your drink and we can enjoy a few more at my place?” The male voice spoke.

“Well, I - I - I uh, f-f-friend I, uh…” The female voice spoke, a mix of slurred speech and nervous babbling.

Another wave of magic pulsed from him.

“I think we should get out of here, beautiful.” He insisted again.

“I think… that is… okay.” The female replied voice halted, disconnected. Stiffly and robotically you watched her put her drink on the bar top, then equally as robotically begin turn around and begin to exit.

Incubus or tirion, you would be damned if you would let them feed here. You too put your drink down on the bar top and made your way to the exiting couple.

“Hey! Girl we were looking everywhere for you!” You walked right up to the woman, placing a hand on her shoulder. You were admittedly a bit rusty, but your connection to magic was as inherent as the ability to breathe. You called forth your magic from deep in the ground, willing it to run through your body. You could see the magical charm this male held on this woman, and while willing your magic into a sword, you severed the charm.

The woman blinked up at you, dazed and confused. “The rest of us are dancing over here!” You now link arms with the woman, her considerably smaller frame putting into perspective how powerless this woman was to this male. As you begin to walk away with her, the male voice calls out from behind you.

“Hey.” The voice is stern, flat, and deep. More noticeable to you, however, is the overwhelming rush of glamor magic that washes over you. You will your magic up, shielding the smaller woman from its power.

“Hey sorry!” You turn around. “We came out as a girl's night and we wanna keep it that way! No hard feelings!” With that, you pull the woman with you and away, towards the exit.

“It’s time to go home, sweetheart. Are those your friends over there?” You ask the woman. She nods in response.

“Come on, let's say goodbye and then I’m going to walk you to a cab.” You lead the woman to her friends, who all in a drunken stupor thank you for taking care of their friend, and forget to ask why it is she needs to leave. It is probably better that way anyway.

You lead the woman out the door, up the stairs, and out into the cold rainy night. You held the umbrella for the two of you, walking in complete silence.

“The taxi rank is around the corner, but this time of night and the weather I’ll bet it's empty, so I’m just going to call ahead.” You said to no one in particular. You weren’t sure if she was really listening, but you felt better saying something.

Sure enough, when you rounded the corner, the taxi rank was completely abandoned.

“Figures,” you grumbled, watching the poor, shivering woman stand next to you while you waited, the sound of the rain hammering on your shared umbrella punctuating your silence. Wordlessly, you shed your leather jacket and place it over her shoulders while you wait, willing the magic from the ground to keep you warm. It was totally against the rules, but hey, it had already been a weird night.

“Do you remember your address?” You asked the woman. She nodded in response.

“Do you have enough money to get home?” Another nod.

“Did you drive to the club?” A shake this time.

She didn’t want to talk, obviously, and another extended silence descended upon the two of you.

The woman broke the silence this time.

“What happened to me?” She asked, voice sounding hollow, hurt, and confused.

“You were roofied.” You replied, matter-of-factly. “The man you were talking to was very bad, which is why I’m making sure you get home.”

“I’ve been roofied before. It didn’t go away in one second. I spent the whole night puking. You touched my shoulder and the fog lifted. Isn’t that crazy?” She spouted off, looking up at you for support answers.

You knew what she was looking for, and yet you couldn’t give it to her. “They’re coming up with new drugs all the time. Maybe this one clears your system crazy fast. I am really sorry this happened to you.” You replied.

“Thank you for helping me.” She replied, and as if ordained by a benevolent ruler, the taxi pulled up. You helped her into the car, wished her a good night, and saw her off before turning on a heel and marching back to that nightclub. You had a bone to pick.

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

Where the bumping music of the club before gave the area a cool, hip-hop vibe, now contributed to your fuge state fueled by rage. The male, miraculously, was stood in the same spot, tied up in conversation with another man. An accomplice perhaps, you thought. You’d figure it out as soon as you rocked this dude's shit.

Pushing passed the crowd and shoving the man he was locked in conversation with aside, in a flash you willed your magic up to protect your fist and you let loose the meanest right hook you could muster, for that woman and all the other women you were sure this scum had victimized.

Your fist collided solidly with his jaw, knocking him over and staggering him. You hit him hard enough that the bystanders around you audibly reacted. The male straightened back out, rubbing his jaw in pain. Looking down at you in what could only be described as bewilderment.

“I would say there is a special place in hell for people like you, but you would know something about that, wouldn’t you?” You spit at the male.

“So what if I do?” The male replied, voice rich and baritone. “What’s it to you?”

“There are clubs for people like you.” You replied venemously.

“And you…?” He replied, lifting an eyebrow.

“I am not here looking for prey.” You said, looked at him with a disgusting look. “Just because you can’t hack it in the supernatural clubs doesn’t mean you can just come out to the human clubs looking for easy pickings.”

“Do you condemn the wolf for breaking into the lamb pen? Or do you just understand that the wolf, too, needs to eat?”

“Ask a sheep farmer what he does to wolves in the lamb pen.”

“Is that what you are to them? The farmer? Watching over the little sheep? Or perhaps you are just a little puppy, barking at the big bad predator” He leaned in closer. “There will come a day when your pathetic little yaps won’t be enough to chase away the big bad guy, what will you do then, little puppy?”

“Get. Out.” You said through gritted teeth. “Or so help me I will put you back where you came from.” Rage, pure rage coursed through you, mixed with magic, you felt it zapping and prickling at your skin, your hair standing on edge as if the lighting was about to strike.

“Now now, no need to get so wound up.” He started pushing past you, before stopping to continue. “I was going to hurt you, for taking my dinner. But now, now I hope to meet you again very soon, little puppy.” He finished, walking out the front door, a swagger in his footsteps that made you want to blast him from behind with every bit of radiant damage you could physically muster.

“Hey.” A different male voice snapped you to the present. “You’re going to call attention to yourself. Just accept it.”

Another wave of glamor magic washed over you, a different spell though, a calming one you readily identified having used it before. You allow the stranger's magic in, the new stream slipping in, soothing your breathing, calming your heart rate, and slowing the stream of magic through your body, before exiting.

“You were about to make us all do the electric slide.” The man said with a chuckle. “Sorry, dated reference. I am kind of old.”

“Me too.” You commented, still internally reeling from the events of the last hour. “It was funny, thanks for the hand.” You turned to him, finally. The man who was keeping the incubus engaged. You were calm, but you were still warry. You regarded him more carefully now, he too was exceptionally handsome, but in a less brutalistic way than the incubus was. He was also shorter than the incubus and considerably more lithe in his frame. His baggy streetwear and half up half down hairstyle betrayed a surprisingly strong body, you were willing to bet, however. “With that being said, who the hell are you?”

“That is a complicated question with a complicated answer.” He replied. “I am sure you can relate. Shall we?” He gestured to two conveniently empty seats sitting on the corner of the bar.

“You drink cosmos, right?” He said handing you a pink cocktail. You looked at him incredulously.

“On a normal night, I don’t accept drinks that I didn’t watch David make, after all that what makes you think I’m going to accept this?”

“Oh my god, you are so right. You know what I will drink this don’t even worry about it, I’ll flag the bartender and you order whatever you want and I’ll pick it up.” He replied, pulling the drink back to him.

After a few minutes, David walked up to your end of the bar, regarding the two of you silently.

“What will it be, sir?” David asked the man.

“Whatever the lady will have.”

“Whiskey. Top Shelf.”

“Coming right up, ma’am,” David replied, pouring a glass and sliding it to you. With that, he made himself scarce.

“How do you know the incubus?” You asked the man, keeping your tone flat, disinterested in case they were buddies.

“Not at all, to be frank” He replied, sipping on his Cosmo.

“When I walked in after getting that woman home, you seemed to be engaged in lively conversation with that man.” You said, bemused. “What was it that you were discussing?”

“How we were going to hurt you.” He replied, matter-of-factly.

“And how was that?” You asked.

“Well, he was angry when you left with that woman, really angry. I had a feeling that you’d come back and I wanted you to get your revenge, so I placated him with stories of how I would help tear you limb from limb and eat your insides in front of this whole club, the usual.”

“Uh-huh.” You replied, skeptically. “And why should I believe that? Maybe the two of you are waiting to jump me as soon as I leave out that door.”

“Nah, you’d kick my ass.” He replied. “Besides, I have this.” He held up a clear, tear-drop-shaped glass pendant on a cord around his neck. Suspended in the glass were a clear liquid and a red liquid, yin and yang. “Because of this, it is impossible for me to lie.”

“Obviously you are going to have to prove it.” You replied, scoffing and sipping your whiskey.

“Easy.” He replied. “The sky is purp-” Before he could finish, red and blue light pulsed from the pendant, and the man doubled over in pain, grabbing his chest. “Pigs can fl-” and again, before the man could finish the sentence, he doubled over in pain clutching his chest.

“You could have programmed it to react that way with certain voice commands.” You replied back, still skeptical.

“Hard to convince, that’s fair enough.” He replied, shrugging. “Tell me to say something, and I will say it, scouts honor.”

“Okay…” You replied, thinking for a moment. “Tell me I’m ugly,” you said with a smirk.

“You’re ug- ak!” The same reaction as before.

“Thank you I know.” You said, flicking the hair off your shoulder. A devilish smile crept across your face as another prompt crossed your mind. “Say this one and I will believe you.”

“Anything.”

“Say I have a tiny penis.”

He looked at you incredulously, but nonetheless began “I have a tiny pe- ah! Enough please believe me this hurts!”

“Good to know~” you chuckled. “Alright George Washington, what are you doing here anyway? What are you?” You asked him.

“I am a vampire. As for what I am doing here, that question is a bit more difficult to answer.”

“Are you looking for prey? Just like that incubus?”

“What? God. No. I don’t need to look for prey thank you very much. I am very much mated.”

“Mated? But you’re hanging out in a human club?”

“Something like that.”

“Okay, start the bigger picture then if the smaller picture is hard. What is your name?”

“Jeon Jungkook. A pleasure.” He extended his hand.

“Y/N. It is steadily becoming a pleasure as well.” you shook his hand. “What brings you to this city, Jeon Jungkook?”

“I live here with my mates,” he replied. “Most of us work in the city, myself included. I sing.”

“Oh wow!” you recoiled in surprise. “What do you sing? Do you perform?”

“No, it's a little hard to be a public persona when your face is never changing, ya know? I do backup vocals and I am the voice behind a few recording artists, some big some small.” He shrugged.

“Some big?” You asked.

“I can’t really talk openly about it. I’ll tell you another time.” He added with a wink.

“Fair enough.” You replied, taking another sip of whiskey.

“I was right behind you, by the way.”

“Hm?” You replied.

“Maybe I should back up a little.” He started. “I’m here, in this human club tonight, because I was called to be. By whom or what I do not know, but I knew I needed to come in. I arrived shortly after you did, I think. You were already drinking at the bar, people-watching. I saw the magic too, and I saw what he was attempting to do to that poor woman. You and I stood up simultaneously.”

“You want a congratulations for thinking about stopping a rapist?” You scoffed at him.

“No. No, I am explaining myself poorly. I am trying to say I had your back. I wouldn’t have let him hurt you.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You said, giving him a half cheers with your glass.

“At first I thought that this is what I was called here for, to save you or to dispatch this creep, then I could fuck off home and be the hero. But then I saw how powerful you were. How readily the magic came to you, how you bent it to your will like you were folding paper. It was only then I came to understand, that I think I was called here to meet you. And I am extremely glad I was.”

You glanced at his chest and then, at the pendant hanging on his chest. The light remained dark, and when you slid your gaze up to meet his, there was an intense sincerity there that made you blush and shy away.

“I am not really sure I understand what it is exactly you are getting at.” You state looking down at the melting cubes in your whiskey.

“I think I might, but I will need you to go with me on this one.” --------------------------------------------------------------------- Hi-ya this one has been cooking in my brain for like 3 years so enjoy plz! I am just going to post parts one and two consecutively because fuck it they're finished and the Ritalin hit and so I WROTE. I'm working on Intertwined, I just had to get it straightened out from this story because of their similar themes but we good, let me cook. I will update the tags as WHAT each member of BTS and Y/N as it is revealed but for now, no spoilers eheheh. Put what you think they're going to be below!

#bts #bangtan #bts smut #bts x reader angst #bts x reader smut #bts x y/n #bts x you #bts x fem!reader #bts x reader #ot7 x reader smut #ot7 #bts ot7 #ot7 x reader #ot7 x reader smut #poly ot7 #ot7xreader #foundfatedforever

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erwinsvow · 3 months

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I think fratboy Rafe has so much potential!! What do you think? In my opinion he’d be the perfect combination of cocky and annoying but also secretly and hopelessly pinning

-bk anon🤨

(Apparently I’m signing off now?? Lmao)

omg bae tysm for the message! love hearing from u and love the new abbreviation <3

and yesss i mean i've seen this trope tossed around for rafe a lot and i do lovee it because he's definitely CHASINGG you. like i can imagine like a lot of ideas but primarily running into you at a frat party and he can definitely tell this is your first time at one. tries to get you a drink but you don't take it because you think ur gonna get roofied, he's offended but then he runs around for 15 minutes trying to find you a hard seltzer thats not open in a can or something. he's like "high standards for a girl at a frat on saturday night. here, princess, i'll get you a brand new one." eeeeeee<333 ur friends drag you away but you don't miss the way he smiles at you while watching you go.

can also imagine like he comes to the party next weekend trying to find you, but not seeing you anywhere. super dejected until he runs into you in the library and just sits down with you at the table (WITH your friends.... he loves to embarrass you) and just start talking like the two of you are already a couple. "so my roommate was being crazy this morning, you remember him, right princess? yeah him, so he-" and "got more of those seltzers you like. you'll come with me on friday, right? theme's seventies or something-"

you'd be so flustered and trying to privately tell him you don't even know him and he's like "got plenty of time for that, don't we?"

however since i see him chasing you, you'd for sure deflect and not accept his offer to go get dinner this weekend before the party. you'd say you're busy and that ur sure he has some sorority girl to attend to. then begins the hunt: bringing you coffee everyday while you study (how he knows your exact order is a mystery...), quieting the loud guys sitting behind you that are annoying you, bringing you real food when you have an exam the next day because he knows you hate the dining hall crap. you don't even realize you're being chased, think it's crazy that the rafe cameron is interested in you, but then you get an a on your exam and the first thing you do is run to tell rafe who is waiting in the library at ur usual table.

he's sitting there with your lil drinky and a muffin to celebrate and you just leap into his arms to hug him smiling so wide because ur so happy!! not even the exam, because he's so happy that you're happy. you kiss him in the library. people walking by stare bc it's cringe.

ofc i love scummy rafe (or... yknow... rafe) as much as the next girl but i think pining chasing rafe is so good... ur so big brained because you described the perfect emotions in your message.... i love you & hope ur doing well!!!!!! <33333333

#📮 asks #rafe cameron

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theabhainnhotel · 2 months

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Theory about Velvette's Powers

So, we don't see much of Velvette's abilities in the show, but I'm sure it's going to come up more in season 2. From what we know about the other Vees, they both have some form of mind control power. Vox has his technology to hypnotize people with. Valentino has his saliva and pheromones to roofie people. Yes, Val and Velvette make a love potion together, but that's more of his powers with her help. What we also know about Velvette is that it has something to do with social media. So combining those things together, mind control + social media + Velvette's general personality, I think she has an online cult like certain celebrities or movements.

If anyone knows the myth of Dionysus's maenads, I'm picturing something like that for Velvette. Take K-Pop stans or hardcore Swifties but instead of death threats online, it only starts there. Worship Velvette or enjoy your second death. It's Hell, they probably have less restraint than people. If the sinner decides to join Velvette's following, they're caught in her manipulation and worship the ground she walks on.

Velvette has her fashion brand too, so her rise to fame could be related to her starting trends. Social media is addicting, especially if you're in a bad place. Most people in Hell seem to be pretty miserable if "Happy Day in Hell" is anything to go by. It would fit with the Vees' theme of being someone in power with corruption (Vox as an exploitive boss and Val as an abusive pimp and film maker).

Or Velvette's powers have been confirmed somewhere else and this means nothing.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin velvette #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin vees #hazbin hotel analysis #hazbin analysis #hazbin theory #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin hotel thoughts #do people in the hazbin universe write fanfic about the vees and overlords in general #that would be so funny

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ren1327 · 4 months

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The fight scene analysis

I LOVE this scene!

So lets do it~!

We start with a barrage of bullets from the shark gangsters/loan sharks (if ya know, ya know). Husk and Angel are taking shelter behind a car when we start.

Husk has his eyes on the sharks, hand up to protect Angel. Angel has his eyes on Husk.

"Stay down. I'll deal with this."

We also have one of Angel's posters in the background. This is the Angel we and Husk are familiar with.

Husk pulls some cool knife throwing via papercut cards and actual loaded dice.

I'd like to point out the poster of Valentino in the back. Husk against Valentino shows us how different he is in regard to Angel. Val beats, assaults and exploits Angel. Husk risks himself to protect Angel without a second thought. This was seen earlier in the bar when he stopped Angel from being roofied and helped him escape the sharks earlier on. Val would probably have just charged the sharks money by the hour and sold the footage.

But this is where that earlier shot comes into play. Angel is more than his porn star persona. And he shows us and Husk that via crackshot into a nostril.

After shooting the shark into an actual puddle, Angel helps Husk up, continuing the theme of both supporting each other from the "Loser, Baby" duet right before the fight.

Angel goes full old school mafia, placing himself between Husk and the sharks with excessive force, switching the protector role with Husk.

But Husk joins in with more loaded dice. Notice his wings again. Angel has an arsenal of guns and rains bullets on the sharks, but Husk's wings are spread wide to protect his back.

Both are taking pleasure in the very one sided battle now that they've joined forces, the tension lessened just by each other's presence. (Vaggie was right.)

If Angel was wearing makeup to cover his black eyes from Val, its gone from the gunpowder, explosions and blood splash zone. Husk doesn't relax until the sharks stop moving, still on alert.

"Heh...well...That wasn't something I expected to see." He says to Angel, taking a breath and smiling at him.

And Angel tries to smooth his blown about, blood covered hair and replies "Like I said, you don't know me. Sex aint the only thing I'm good at." Angel is showing us a glimpse not only of himself...but of Anthony. And it seems as if they're blending into the person he is now.

And Husk has gotten his point across. This mess of a man covered in blood, soot and dirt...black eye, messy hair and clothing...the man who just decimated a gang of men and had his back...smiling through the violence and standing tall...

"Good to know. Cause this guy..."

"Ain't half bad."

This is who Husk wanted to see.

Angel Dust.

#hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel angel dust #huskerdust

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angelkhi · 10 months

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mirrorball - j.m

pairing: bodyguard!joel miller x f!reader (3rd person)

summary: a gala isn’t your thing, dress shopping isn’t Joel’s. It’s a shame no one can get their way.

warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), smut in future parts, mentions of alcohol, references to being roofied, language, sexual themes (no actual sex), mentions of blood, joel is a massive dick. let me know if i missed anything!word count: 2.8k

a little note: it’s here! (kinda). ive been kinda busy (i graduated!) but also wanted to take my time with this, and maybe explore some aspects of writing that i usually skim over (my bad). i estimate that this will be maybe 3 parts? i hope i do it justice either way, this fic was born out of this hc, but mostly your encouraging responses. thank you for being so kind 🩷

series masterlist part two>>

For a price tag of almost three grand, her dress is itchy. Sure it's beautiful enough that the slimy little daddy's boys will fawn over her, and each superficial gold digger will give her one syllable compliments in an overly saturated tone, but it fucking itches. She hikes the material further up her thigh for the third time since the short car ride began, trying to scratch at her skin. Maybe it's an allergic reaction. She hopes so, that way she can avoid the event all together. She's half way to pulling her sleeve away from her shoulder, ready to scratch the irritated skin, but a firm grip around her wrist prevents her from that sweet sweet relief.

"Stop fidgeting." Joel's tone is clipped, the usual hint of strain pulling across his words. She swears she's never seen him relax, not since he became her live-in bodyguard anyway. She cuts her eye at him but of course he's not looking. The only time she ever really has his attention is if her life is in danger, other than that its pure nonchalance and ignorant glances. She can admire his desire to fulfil the position, what with the pay and free accommodation, hell if she had a real job she'd probably be just as uptight as him. But there's only so much a person can take.

"It's itchy." Of course she sounds like a whiny little brat. It's fine, that's all he thinks of her anyway, she's sure of it.

"Should've picked the other one then."

She almost laughs.

She had walked him around the store at least four times, each trip resulting in the same two dresses. She couldn't decide between the colours, then the length, and then the sleeves. In the end he forced her into the changing room, mumbling she either picks one of those or goes in nothing. They both know that's not an option. Both dresses felt nice, as nice as a constricting piece of fabric could feel, they both looked as nice as they could in the dreary washed out lighting. In the end she had asked Joel, who sat just the other side of the door, arms folded, shoulders tense, scowl mastered.

Joel isn't one for verbal communication, unless it's telling her to 'go here' or 'stay there' or his most frequented phrase, 'shut up'.

But his eyes say it all.

Sometimes it's a simple twitch, letting her know he's not as irritated as he lets on, others it's a slight squint. That's her personal favourite. That's when she knows she's got him right on the edge.

His eyes fix on her, moving slow and calculated over the second dress. The way the fabric moulds to each divot and curve of her body, lingering on her chest, on the slightly too high slit exposing her thigh. It's a clear winner.

His levels of exasperation had clearly spiked in the time it took for her to change again, his constant glaring, huffing and puffing dialled up to 100. His wide steps only seem to grow wider on the way to the checkout, his whole demeanour screaming get me the fuck out of here. Which is why she doubles back on herself, not needing to check if he's following, she knows he will.

She stops, a wide array of underwear in front of her. She takes her time, making sure to show each and every barely there pair to him, watching that eye twitch with a perfect mix of irritation and lightly tethered resolve.

He'd dragged her out of there in the end, though not after she held up the skimpiest pair of panties she could find. His hand wraps tight around her arm, not enough to hurt her, she knows he'd never do that. But enough to tell her she's officially pushed his buttons a little too much.

Soon enough the car rolls to a slow stop in front of a grand building. Stone columns tower over her when Joel leads her from the car. She likes to pretend it's not in his job description, that instead he's simply just an emotionally constipated gentleman, but she's not stupid enough to believe it. Still, when his hand finds the small of her back, when he guides her up the steps and into the vast museum-turned-ballroom, it's hard to believe that his behaviour is entirely obligatory.

The event is just as grand as she expected. Her father certainly has no trouble with throwing his wealth around, even less so when it presents the opportunity to show just how wealthy he is. An ornate chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting a warm twinkling light over the guests. An sizeable portion of an orchestra plays dreary classical music from the back of the room, and the guests are filling the space, drinking overpriced champagne and nibbling on bite sized canapés.

She waltzes through the sea of false affluence, painting on her best smile, choosing her most pleasant tone, saying all of the right words. She embraces her father heartily, pushing down the small piece of resistance when he pulls her close. She puts on a good, exhausting show. The only thing that keeps her grounded is Joel, hot on her 5-inch heels, anticipating her every move, being ten steps ahead of her.

She's seated with a handful of the elite from the gathering, laughing when they relay the same stories as always, gasping and feigning surprise when they compliment her. She eats the bland food with a sweet smile and laughs off propositions from parents who just know their son would be a perfect match for her.

In between convoluted speeches, she listens to them drone on about their latest investments, or how well their darling daughters are performing in their ballet classes. She smiles, she drinks. she laughs. She's the perfect daughter. The luckiest girl in the room, with the richest daddy and all the luxuries life could offer. But sat at that table, choking down specs of gold in the dry champagne, she feels more akin to the age old scrolls and scriptures.

A caged artefact, another one of her father's prized possessions, on display to be gasped at. She'd give anything for the glass to shatter, for tiny shards to rain down on each and every person in here. She'd marvel in their horror as they learn they bleed the same as everyone else on this planet. That they're not special, and neither is she.

From the corner of her eye, she spots Joel hiding in the shadows, standing to attention. His eyes constantly scan the room and every few seconds, they're on her. She almost feels bad for practically ogling him whilst he's doing his very best to keep her alive. But his black suit fits his form so well it'd be a sin not to look. She watches as he readjusts his cufflinks for the third time, the material catching around his biceps, the single button clipped across his stomach almost straining with every moment.

Yes, Joel is an insufferable bastard, but he's an unfathomably good looking one. His stoic behaviour is almost forgiven on that basis alone.

A round of applause pulls her from her Joel induced trance. She fixes her smile and joins in, nodding jovially with those around her. Not soon enough, she's free to leave the table, thanking them for their company, and heads straight for the bar. She feels Joel's presence before she sees him, perching a few seats down, eyes still wondering.

She doesn't pay much attention to the man next to her. His suit probably cost more than what most people make in a year, and his charming smile is more snake-like. She smiles when he pays for her drink, laughs and touches his arm, letting him think he has a chance. He's been talking about his most recent investment in overseas stocks for ten minutes, and all she wants is to go home and take off these fucking uncomfortable heels. To be able to breathe without the rigid dress digging into her skin. She wants to be alone, or as alone she can be with her human shadow.

"... and profits are at an all time high. My old man reckons I'll be taking over from him soon enough" The man, Matt? Mike? Manny, speaks. She flashes him a smile.

"Wow. That's amazing." Or at least she hopes it is, he could be talking about his dead childhood pet for all she knows.

"Let me buy you another drink?" He asks. Though it's more of a demand, he's already flagged down the bartender, ordering something sweet and fruity her, and a "real man's" drink for himself.

"You got the last round. I'll get these." She pretends to root around in her too-small purse knowing he'll decline, they always do. Men like him take any chance to throw their money around, wave it in peoples faces, impress the men and woo the ladies.

By the time she's ended the facade, he's waving his amex at her dismissively, nudging the drink towards her. Once again she smiles. She doesn't even want the drink, certainly not in his company.

His beady eyes watch her, a hint of something beneath the thick layer of painted on charm. That snake-like nature increases tenfold and it takes everything in her not to tip the drink down the front of his Givenchy shirt. The glass is barely in her hands when it's ripped from her hands, the familiar scent of Joel invading her space.

His face is taught, that scowl he loves so dearly gone, in its place pure rage. His eyes are dangerously dark, and she's sure if she looked hard enough, there would be smoke blowing from his ears.

It all happens so quickly. The sloshing drink flies from the glass straight into Manny's face, dripping down onto his clothes, turning his sickly white suit into a damp shade of pink. Then Joel is moving, slamming the empty glass onto the bar and gripping the terrified man by his collar.

She can feel the eyes of almost everyone at the gala trained solely on them, she almost expects the music to come to a screeching halt.

She can barely make out Joel's enraged words, despite the silent crowd. She's barely aware of his hand gripping her arm, pulling her through the parting guests. A sea of shocked faces, some sympathetic others purely confused. She stumbles on the top step, her stupid heels and Joel's insane pace working against her. The world turns upside down, and her hands reach out to brace herself, hitting his sturdy back. Even with a layer of clothing between them, she swears she can feel his bare hands across the back of her thighs, the tight muscle of his shoulder pressing against her stomach.

He's thrown her over his shoulder. Like a damned child. And now he's shoving her into the back of the car, as though she's the one that threw a tantrum and caused a scene. He rounds the car and slips in beside her, and they're speeding off back towards her apartment.

The last few minutes slowly slip from a hazy blur to a sharp reality, and she can't help but stare at him. Confusion and pure embarrassment hit her first, then comes the anger. He speaks to the driver for a second, and then the partition is rolling up again.

The car feels ten times smaller and itching of her dress is long forgotten. She wants to ask him what happened, why he dragged her out of there like an insubordinate child, but he's busy typing on his phone, making hushed calls as though a whisper wouldn't travel the few feet of space between them. His chest heaves, small tufts of hair peaking through the now open buttons of his shirt, the once neat tie hanging loosely from his collar.

He barely looks at her the whole time. Even as he helps her out of the car, or guides her into the elevator, or pushes open her front door, bolting it behind them. She throws off the heels the moment she steps into the large living room, knocking an ornament sideways. Not even that gets his attention.

"Sunshine secured." He speaks into his wrist, a small undetectable microphone hidden in one of the cufflinks. Sunshine. She remembers it like yesterday, the first time he'd called her that. She'd stumbled into the kitchen after a late night, barely acknowledging the hulking man sat at the island. She remembers the exact moment his eyes met hers with that all consuming gaze and the slight quirk of his lips as he studied her from head to toe, then in that deep texas drawl, uttered morning sunshine.

She had quickly come to learn it was not as endearing as it seemed. Joel doesn't do endearing.

There's a growing urge to throw something, at a wall or at him is still undecided, so she crosses her arms across her chest instead. She calls out his name, though it falls on deaf ears, his nose buried in that stupid phone of his. She tries again, and again until throwing something doesn't seem like such a bad idea anymore. Finally, he grants her the privilege of his attention and she considers for a moment, if that's all she wanted. Not answers, just his acknowledgement. He raises an eyebrow, his nonchalance pushing her over the edge.

"What was that?" It comes out as a high pitched shout, rather than the calm and controlled manner she had hoped.

Once again, he quirks his brow saying nothing any everything . This doesn't concern you, or are you really that stupid?

"Joel, you just threw a drink on someone and dragged me out of a room filled with hundreds of people. You would think that warrants an explanation!"

He has the nerve to huff and shake his head, shoving the buzzing phone in his pocket and takes a step towards her.

"You want an explanation." He eyes her again, focusing on the slow curve of her dress. "There was a threat. I eliminated it."

She scoffs, "You were being a dick."

"I was doing my job."

"Oh that's what it was! Your little tantrum was you doing your job?" She's aware that she's now the one throwing a tantrum, not that she cares when he's acting so high and mighty, as though the status of his role outweighs her own peace of mind.

"Go to bed." His phone buzzes again, he ignores it. "It's been a long night and I have a bunch of shit to deal with."

"Are you being serious right now? You just humiliated me in front of everyone. Was carrying me down the steps really that necessary?" If she was itching to throw something a few minutes ago, she's desperate now. Maybe her shoe, right in his face.

"He would've done a lot worse Sunshine, now go to bed." For fucks sakes.

"No! Not until you tell me what is going on."

He sighs, pinching the small bump along the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes for a moment. He does this a lot, when he's trying not to yell at her or even better still, quit his job. He shoots her a pointed look.

"If you weren't so busy flirting with your little boyfriend, you would've noticed him slipping something in your drink." His words are met with a long silence, and the space between them seems to stret even further.

The dress feels tighter, and she wobbles a little, though this time she can't blame it on the shoes. She was wrong. He hasn't humiliated her in front of everyone, he'd done it in her own home.

"Unzip me." Her voice is clipped. She's not sure if she wants to scream or cry. Maybe both. He hesitates for a moment, but then he's there right behind her pulling the zip down so torturously slowly, the soft brush of his knuckles on her skin threatening her with a shiver. She almost hates herself for it.

He steps back, but she doesn't face him. The dress slides off easily, leaving her in barely anything not that she cares. She's already humiliated herself enough, what's another notch in the belt? She gathers up the crumpled fabric, wanting nothing more than to throw it in the bin, and walks down the hall pausing at her door. She turns to him. She refuses to let him have the last word, he doesn't deserve it, not tonight. With tears already threatening her voice and Joel's beyond sour mood she's not sure she cares much either. Making sure to look directly into his eyes, she bares herself, lets him see the hurt he has caused.

"Fuck you."

She makes sure the door slams behind her, leaving him alone in the dark.

#joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #joel miller #bodyguard!joel miller #joel miller x f!reader smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us fic

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my-own-walker · 4 months

Text

Someone You've Never Seen Before

A Kyle Spencer Fan Fiction

frat!kyle AU, fem!main character, sexual themes, mature language, use of drugs and alcohol, frat boy antics

19.

Alone, together. Making up for lost time.

My lipstick smudged on his lips after stolen kisses in bathrooms at parties. His arms snaking around me from behind in my apartment's kitchen at 3 am, his chin resting atop my head. Study dates occurred nightly, often devolving into naps, cuddles, kisses, or more.

There in my room, we laid. Way less weekly frat house forays for me. Kyle practically lived at Lily and I's place.

I feared Lily would hate it, with her personal space being invaded, and all. But she really liked him. Her attitude toward him changed after that night when they teamed up to rescue me. It took a bit for her to tell me what went down when they got me back to our place.

"It wasn't what you needed to hear at the time," she shrugged when she finally decided to tell me. From what I understand, it happened a bit like this:

Lily's POV

"She come to yet?" Leon asked from the driver's seat, his tone dripping with concern. His dark eyebrows were furrowed, eyes laser-focused and intent on getting us back as quickly as possible. He directed his question to the back seat, where Kyle sat cradling Hannah's head, preventing it from bobbling around as he hit bumps and took turns.

"Nah, man..." Kyle trailed off, looking down at her unconscious form. She was limp, eyes cracking open just slightly every so often.

Leon's question pissed me off. Unnecessarily so. "Fucking- of course she's not awake, Leon. She got fucking roofied."

"Sorry, Lil," he muttered, twisting one of his curls around his finger. He chewed his lip and turned the steering wheel hand-over-hand into the parking area behind our apartment. He let go of the curl and it sprung tightly back into place as he threw the car into park.

Wordlessly, Leon and I unbuckled our seatbelts as Kyle opened the left-side back door. Both of us rushed to aid him in getting Hannah out of the car, but after getting out, he immediately bent down and picked her up bridal style as he did at the party.

"Kyle, we can help," I began, reaching my hand up and brushing a hair out of Hannah's face.

"I got her," he rasped, adjusting his hold and turning in the direction of the building. "Which way's your place?"

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, allowing him to have his hero moment, but only because it was in Hannah's best interest for me not to argue with him. I pointed toward our back door.

"Sh-should I go?" Leon stuttered behind me. "I think he's got it."

I turned around and buried myself in Leon's arms. I couldn't help but need comfort in the moment. It was selfish, but as soon as his embrace tightened around me, I felt a sense of clarity and a new capacity to help. "Thank you, Leon. I love you," I sniffled into his chest.

"She's going to be okay, Lil. I can come in if you need," he said lowly.

"No, go back to your boyfriend. I'm sorry we interrupted your time."

"Oh, hush. Anything for you and Han," he whispered, releasing me and holding me by my shoulders at arm's length, looking into my eyes. "I promise."

"Get back safe," I muttered, turning on my heel to rush after Kyle, who was practically at the door.

I picked up the pace to a light jog, fumbling in my small handbag for my keys. I watched Hannah's head roll toward Kyle's body, resting lazily on his shoulder. His immediate response was to stroke the back of her head, not a thought behind it. I reached the door and unlocked it in a swift motion, hustling in before the two of them.

"Her room is back here," I called out, not even turning the lights on or glancing back in their direction. I swung the door to Hannah's room open and waited by the entrance for Kyle to pass me. He hesitated and took in the room for a split second before taking her over to her bed and placing her down gingerly.

He turned her over on her side and turned away, striding quickly back toward the door. Only then did he hunch over, hands on his knees, and take a deep, shaky breath. My eyes darted between Kyle and Hannah. Hannah and Kyle. Who to acknowledge first? Who to help first?

I deemed Hannah okay enough for the moment for me to be able to check on Kyle. "She's not that heavy," I quipped, forcing a small, dry laugh out of him. I stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

He straightened up stiffly, still facing the exit, rather than her. He took another shaky breath before responding. "Honestly, all that matters to me right now is if she's okay. I don't even know how I am," he uttered. "I know it'll pass, but it's heavy."

"Yeah...it's intense," I agreed, turning my head to stare at Hannah, who looked as if she were sleeping peacefully. Face still like a young child in a deep slumber.

"Can you, uh, text me when she wakes up? I can give you my number," he sniffled. I looked back in his direction and watched him wipe his eyes. He turned his head to look at me and I nodded. "I love her, Lily. I'm sorry, but I do." His eyes were glassy and pleading.

"I do, too," was all I could muster.

"I let go of the illusion that things could have gone any different. She may hate me forever. But I love her," he spoke, just barely above a whisper. " I can't imagine a day I won't."

I found home in his arms.

He held me tenderly. I lay cradled in his arms, tracing the veins that twisted their way up them with my finger. My head rested lazily on his chest. His heart thudded quietly beneath my ear.

Kyle slept soundly beneath me. He took a deep breath before shifting slightly, squeezing his arms tightly around me. He then returned to sleeping peacefully.

It was the middle of the night and I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stop thinking about him. Us. He looked at me like there was something there worth looking at. He talked about me as if I put the stars in the sky.

I couldn't believe the boy I thought hated me felt this way about me. That I was lying in his arms planning our future.

It was beautiful. I couldn't have asked for anything more.

Previous Part

#kyle spencer #kyle spencer imagine #kyle spencer headcanons #kyle spencer x reader #evan peters fic #evan peters x reader #evan peters x female reader #evan peters oneshot #evan peters #ahs #ahs fanfic

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 1 month

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Sugar Mama Chapter 5

Summary: Bucky is overworked and struggling to get by. The bills are piling up and he’s consistently in the red with no end in sight. Y/N is a billionaire’s daughter, entrepreneur and philanthropist having a hard time finding true friends or love. She has a proposition for him. bucky barnes x curvy!reader

Warnings: smut, sexual assault (not from Bucky)

John Walker of Walker Star Construction was arrested this morning at his Hell’s Kitchen apartment for sexual assault and inflicting bodily harm against Wall Street heiress Y/N Y/L/N. Allegedly during a business meeting Walker made Y/L/N a drink, slipping a roofie drug into it called GHB. He then allegedly assaulted her and tried to get her to sign a business contract they were discussing about her becoming an investor. He has pleaded not guilty and will be held in the county jail until the bond hearing.

***

The next few months were rough on Y/N. The hearing and the trial took an emotional toll, and the bright, lighthearted, charismatic woman Bucky had been falling in love with was hidden under pain, anger and anxiety. She didn’t want to leave the apartment, go out to the parties or events she was invited to, or interact with anyone other than Bucky. Her father had visited her a few times, not questioning Bucky as the new “boyfriend,” trying to offer support as best as he could.

It wasn’t until John Walker had been sentenced that she finally seemed to wake up from the funk she was in. The sentencing wasn’t enough, in Bucky’s opinion, but the law only gave him 2 years in jail and a fine. A protective order was also in place. This, including the therapist she had been visiting, helped her come back into herself a bit more. Although now she texted Bucky often about her whereabouts, who she was with, and when he could expect her to get home as a precaution, and it made her feel better that someone knew what was going on with her.

Steve’s art gallery showing was coming up and she didn’t want to miss it but was feeling a lot of anxiety over being around people again.

“You won’t be alone, Y/N, I’ll be there with you the whole time. I’ll go to the bathroom with you if you need it,” Bucky tried to joke about it to lighten her mood.

“I know you’ll be with me, Buck. I just…” Y/N sighed loudly. “I’m going. I will be there to support Steve, be friendly, make polite conversation, then we’ll leave. Sound good?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Bucky agreed, giving her arms a squeeze.

On the night of the gallery show Y/N was stressed but hid it behind her signature smirk she wore when out at events. Bucky could tell by the tightness of her eyes that she was wary, watching people and each verbal interaction making her feel tense, but she soldiered on. Steve greeted everyone and introduced his collection to a round of applause. He thanked Y/N for her support and investment into his art and she promised him more shows in the future. The pieces were beautiful, a collage of portraits of people with Brooklyn sights embedded in their silhouettes, the underlying cobalt blue paint a running theme throughout the works.

As Bucky walked along looking at them, beaming with pride for his best friend, he came across a few pieces that were flecked with gold. They were portraits of people he knew and were close to Steve: Peggy, Steve’s mother, Bucky’s mother, Bucky and Y/N. He stared at the portrait of his mother, feeling emotional over just how well Steve was able to capture what she looked like.

“You have her eyes. And her mouth,” Y/N commented as she gazed up at it.

“Hm,” Bucky agreed. He then moved over to the portrait of Y/N. Steve had done a phenomenal job at recreating her likeness. Her portrait had a little more gold in it than the others.

“Mine looks a little too ostentatious,” Y/N said, her eyebrows furrowing.

“What do you mean?” Bucky asked incredulously.

“I love the gold, but it makes me look…”

“Rich? Because you are,” he laughed.

“Yes but that’s not all I am,” she retorted. “Gold is extravagance, wealth, gaudy.”

“Sure, but it’s also beautiful, enduring, valuable even in its malleability. It doesn’t tarnish. It’s bold. It’s everything that everyone sees in you. What I see in you,” he mumbled into her ear, “Mama.”

Y/N hummed back at him, her eyes meeting him with a mischievous sparkle. “You’ve been very flirty lately, baby. Is there something you want to tell me?”

Bucky’s eyes widened, but before he could answer Steve walked up to them. “Hey you two! I hope you like these. It was pretty hard to really get it right with all of you.”

“They’re beautiful, Steve,” Y/N reassured him, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. “Your mothers are exquisite,” she added, looking at the portraits next to hers. “And Peggy is a vision,” she complimented her portrait. “Where is she, by the way?”

“She got caught up talking to the mayor again, trying to talk to him about more resources and funding and what not,” Steve sighed, shaking his head but smiling at his girlfriend’s constant networking.

“Ah, well let me go save him,” Y/N joked, giving them both a wink. “Steve, I’d like to buy some of these from you. Talk to me later, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah, of course!” Steve looked at her excitedly. She gave him a wide smile then walked away.

“Buck,” Steve pulled his friend in for a hug, “I’m sorry I ever doubted you doing this sugar baby thing.”

“Yeah, sure, cuz it’s helping you, too,” Bucky teased him.

“Yes, that’s a big part of it. But also because she’s awesome,” Steve congratulated him. “Seriously, Y/N is great. I’m sorry I doubted her. Did she like the gold?” he gestured towards her painting.

“She wasn’t sure about it at first, but she’s okay now,” he said. “I think it’s amazing, Steve. All of it. I’m really proud of you,” Bucky clapped him on his shoulder.

“Thanks punk,” Steve said shyly. “It’s weird talking to all these big name people. Does it ever get any easier?”

“No,” Bucky laughed. “I’m still working on it.”

Later that night after Y/N had bought all the portraits of the people they knew and they arrived home, they changed and relaxed on the couch with a bottle of wine between them.

“You did it!” Bucky cheered as Y/N sipped her wine.

She giggled as she set her glass down. “Yes, I did it. And it wasn’t too bad,” Y/N conceded as she angled her body to face him. “And I got some more amazing artwork to add to my collection,” she smiled at the paintings piled in the corner.

“Where are you going to put them?” Bucky asked.

“Well, this is as much your home as it is mine, Buck, we can figure it out in the morning,” she said as she looked out the window, admiring the glittering skyline.

Bucky smiled at that. It still felt like hers, but he felt good knowing she wanted him to feel like they shared it. He recalled the conversation they were having earlier before they got cut off by Steve.

“Y/N,” he started. She turned her attention back to him. “Earlier you asked me if there was something I wanted to tell you?”

“Oh, yes, about you being so flirty lately,” she teased him.

“Yeah,” he huffed out a laugh. “Um, I’m not sure how to uh…”

Y/N’s face contorted into something like concern. She scooted herself closer to him on the couch, her hand reaching for one of his. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No, nothing’s wrong. I was just thinking about how in the beginning I asked you about whether this would be a um, sexual relationship,” he said, keeping his eyes down.

“I remember,” Y/N said patiently.

“Well I, uh…during these last few months I’ve been starting to have these thoughts, and feelings, about maybe wanting to go ahead and um, do that,” he stuttered. “I just didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you when the whole thing happened with…” Y/N shifted at the mention of Walker. “But, I’ve…” he finally looked up at her. She had a small smirk on her face, her attention fully on him. “I want…”

Y/N’s smile widened. “What do you want, baby?” She moved closer to him so her face was an inch away from his face.

Bucky could feel his face shift to something like pure want, his eyes flickering to her lips, his mouth hanging open. “I want…you.”

“Me?” she whispered, her hand moving from his hand to his arm, leaving a tingling sensation as her nails slowly tickled their way up to his neck then his jaw, giving his beard a light scratch and her thumb ghosting across his lower lip. Bucky shivered at her touch, nodding his head heavily as he shut his eyes.

“Please, Mama,” he whimpered.

Y/N surged forward and kissed him. Bucky felt like he was imploding as her lips met his, soft but firm against him, her hand cupping his jaw and her head angling to the side as she deepened the kiss. Bucky melted into her, his hands reaching behind her neck to keep her against him, fingers entangling in her hair. Y/N’s breathing became heavier as she shifted again to straddle his lap, her thick thighs and her core enveloping him. Bucky moaned as she sat on him, his hands slipping from her neck down to her hips. As his fingers dug into the plushy skin of her hips she let out a whimper of her own, making him intake a sharp breath. He wanted to die to that sound.

Y/N opened her mouth, her tongue slipping out and brushing against his lower lip. Bucky immediately opened his mouth, his tongue meeting hers as they tasted each other. She softly sucked on his tongue, making his hips buck up into her. She huffed a laugh against his lips.

“How do you want me, baby?” Y/N asked as she ground down on his lap, making his hips tremble.

“God, just like this, Mama,” Bucky grunted, his hands guiding her to keep grinding on him.

Y/N tugged her shirt off, revealing her breasts to him. His hands rushed to her chest,

massaging her large breasts and then dipping his head to start kissing and licking them. Her hands latched onto his hair as he worshiped her skin. She then pulled at his shirt, helping him rid himself of it and throwing it across the room. Her hands raked down his shoulders to his pecs then his abs, stopping at the top of his pants. “Off,” she huffed. Bucky quickly shifted himself so she could drag down his pants and his underwear, freeing his cock from the confining fabric. He kicked off the bottoms as she shimmied out the rest of her clothes then sat back on top of him, her naked pussy slotting over his cock, grinding on him and making him feel dizzy with arousal.

“So pretty, baby,” Y/N praised him, her hand snaking down to her pussy and flicking and rubbing her clit as she ground down on him. “Such a pretty dick. You gonna fill me up?” Bucky nodded his head deliriously, his hands kneading her thighs and trying to guide her hips so he could try to angle himself into her. “Well go on, baby, give it to me. Give me my dick.”

“Fuck yes! Yours, all yours,” Bucky threw his head back as he could feel her pussy start leaking on him. He took his cock and positioned himself upwards towards her hips. Y/N helped him by swiveling until the tip caught on her entrance then slowly sunk down. They both groaned as she enveloped him. Y/N gasped when he bottomed out, the stretch and the depth making her squirm on top of him. She took a moment to adjust then repositioned her legs so she could lift herself up on her feet then sink back down. As she gave that first roll of her hips Bucky’s eyes rolled back in his head, a silent “O” on his lips. Y/N rolled her hips then started bobbing herself up and down on him.

“You feel so good, baby…fuck you’re so deep,” Y/N moaned. Her hands used his shoulders to grip onto something as she kept going up and down, occasionally and randomly sitting and rolling her hips against him. Bucky felt like his veins were on fire, the pleasure steadily building. “Ooh, Bucky…”

Hearing his name coming from her mouth that way unleashed something inside him. He suddenly twisted so Y/N was on her back on the couch. She gasped in surprise as his arm hooked under her hips and held her up as he reentered her. He grunted as he pistoned into her, setting a grueling pace, sweat forming on his brow as he fucked her.

“Say I’m yours,” Bucky commanded in a raspy whisper.

“You’re mine, baby,” Y/N answered him, her eyes wide at his change in demeanor. “All mine.”

“That’s right,” he almost choked as he felt her walls start to flutter around him. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Bucky, all yours…your Mama,” Y/N moaned, her back arching as he hit a new spot inside of her. “Baby please…”

“Mine,” he whimpered again. He used his free hand to reach between them and start flicking at her clit. Y/N’s voice cracked as she yelped. “Mine…my sweet Mama. So good to me,” the pitch of his voice rising quickly, then just as quickly dropping, “Mama.”

Y/N whimpered as she came, her fingers digging into his biceps as her legs tightened around his back, her head wrenching back as she saw white. Bucky followed right behind her, a loud groan falling from his lips as he kept thrusting into her and filled her up like she wanted. He kept flicking her clit as she flinched through the aftershocks of her climax until she pushed his hand away.

“No more, baby, I can’t…” she whined, her hands limply falling beside her as he stayed inside her and gently laid himself on top of her.

“Oh my god,” Bucky shuddered as his body relaxed. He laid himself on top of her, his head nuzzling her chest and giving her breasts random kisses, his softening cock slipping out of her as they both tried to breathe normally. Y/N ran her hands through his hair, absentmindedly humming a tune as she relaxed. “And you can sing? God, Mama, what are you doing to me?” Bucky huffed a laugh as he looked up at her.

Y/N giggled. “I don’t know how good of a singer I am but I can hold a tune,” she booped his nose with her finger, making his smile widen. She gave him a smirk. “You were so good, baby. So good at making me feel good. My best baby…”

Bucky could feel himself beaming at her praise. He snuggled closer to her and hummed, making her laugh. “Mama…my Y/N.” She kissed the top of his head and he started humming the same tune she had been before. She joined him a moment later as she ran her fingers through his hair, softly singing along.

@vicmc624 @mega-kittyglitter-1 @jtink27 @jenniferpendragon @redbloodedgurl

**just one more chapter after this!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #smut #sugarbaby!bucky barnes #sugarmama!reader #sugarbaby #sugar mama #chapter 5 #curvy reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader

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ghostxrose · 3 months

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Worship Me Like I Worship You | Bakugo Katsuki & Reader

Summary ~ You love Katsuki. You worship him like the God he is. You would do anything for him. So what is this switch that flipped in your mind when you finally have him?

Tags/Warnings ~ Fem!Psycho!Reader, yandere themes, characters are in their 20's, stalking, roofying, dubcon/noncon but sex doesnt happen, Idk what else to tag.. psycho-shit, I guess lol

Note ~ Hey y'all.. I really have no explanation for this one.. I wanted to try my hand at writing twisted/psycho stuff and this is what I churned out. Now, it is based off of a couple of songs (All Around Me by Flyleaf and God Complex by Violent Vira) so just like Nicotine, I'm sorry if it's cringe. Welp, buckle in Lovelies because Reader really said "Marbles? What marbles??"

The day you got hired on as a secretary for Dynamight’s hero agency was the single greatest day of your life. You had been following the progress of Dynamight’s career since he started to get famous back in high school. Ever since you were thirteen years old and had first seen him on your TV during the UA Sports Festival his first year, you had known that he was the one.

Every video, news article, and picture uploaded online of Dynamight, aka Katsuki Bakugo, was automatically saved to your phone or computer so that you could look at him anytime you wanted. His loud and brash personality, explosive Quirk, and frequent encounters with villains made sure to keep him within the media’s sights and it really felt like he was all around you.

“Every time I see his face.. it’s like he’s thickening the air I’m breathing but in the best way possible. Like I’m burning and not used to seeing him, not used to seeing a God. Something about him makes me feel like I’m alive.” You dazedly tried explaining to a friend one day when they had noticed your obsession taking off not long after Katsuki’s hero debut.

Of course, your friend had no idea what you were going on about and had looked at you with such concern and.. fear. You couldn’t understand how your friend didn’t see the white light that shone behind Katsuki, illuminating the sacred being so brightly that you cry sometimes. How, in your dreams, Katuski takes your outstretched hand and promises to never leave you as you shout your beliefs in him, tell him that you worship him, and make sure he knows that he owns your heart and soul.

Now, years later, you no longer speak to that friend or any of your old friends. You don’t speak to anybody, really, but you don’t care. All you need is Katsuki and now, working at his agency, you’re going to have him.

Your Quirk, when it manifested, was registered as a weak and non-threatening anesthetic gaseous-type Quirk. When activated, your Quirk came out of your mouth upon an exhale as a colorless and odorless gas that you could control the potency of if you were to train it. The only tell that your Quirk had when it was activated was your body feeling physically colder to the touch. And, luckily enough for you, you are immune to the effects of your anesthetics with the exception of hypothermia from overuse.

Weak and non-threatening; that’s what your Quirk had been.. when you were a little kid. But you’ve trained with it in secret over the years, your test subjects being any animals you could get close enough to and unsuspecting people. You have worked hard to master the levels of potency depending on the subject, the proximity you would need to be to a subject, and keeping yourself warm so as to keep from developing hypothermia when pushing the limits of your Quirk.

You spent years putting together your plan and perfecting every single detail. The final piece of your puzzled plan falling into place when you discreetly snagged the Quirk canceling cuffs from an overly flirtatious officer that was chatting you up one day at the agency. You had blown a puff of weakly potented gas their way and the fucker had spent the next 20 minutes in a dazed high too busy poorly flirting with you to realize that you had made any move to touch them at all.

Currently, it’s a little after ten at night and Katsuki has just walked into the agency to finish up his shift then change out of his hero costume. You’re sitting in your car that’s parked not far from his in the lot and getting into character. You have about twenty five to thirty minutes until Katsuki walks out of the building and to his car, the perfect amount of time.

Your forehead is resting against the top of your steering wheel, your hands clutching the sides tightly with white knuckles, and loud sobs leave your mouth. A knocking on your window startles you and your head jerks up to see who it could possibly be at this late hour. There is a watery and truly pitiful look on your face when your eyes connect with sharp crimson ones.

You reach a shaky hand out to the door handle and open it slowly so Katsuki has time to move back to allow you to open the door fully. Your car’s interior lights don’t kick on, in fact none of your car’s lights come on, when you open the door and you let out a pathetic whimper.

“What are you still doing here?” Katsuki asks, his gruff tone holding slight irritation and discomfort.

Mentally you melt over the sound of that rough voice speaking words to you. You let the sound play on loop in your mind as you answer him in the most ‘helpless-damsel-in-distress’ voice you can manage.

“I-I’m s-so s-sorry, Dynamight, S-Sir.. M-my car w-won’t s-start.. I-I’m not s-sure wh-what’s wrong with i-it..” You stutter out between sobs.

“You didn’t think to call a friend to come get ya? Or maybe a tow truck?” Katsuki questions exasperatedly and you let out a couple more sobs.

“I-I h-haven’t m-made any fr-friends, y-yet.. I-I’m s-still new a-around h-here.. Pl-plus m-my ph-phone i-is d-dead..” You cry and stutter out then put your face into your hands.

Katsuki lets out a heavy and annoyed sigh, “Okay, okay, just calm down. Fuck, alright, let me take a look. I know some shit about cars.”

Your head snaps up and you look at him with max amounts of pathetic relief, “R-really?! Th-thank y-you so much, Dynamight!”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, and just call me Bakugo. I’m not in my damn hero gear right now. And pop the hood.”

“S-sorry, Bakugo..” You quietly apologize, then attempt to look for the lever to pop the hood. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the emotions of Katsuki’s short fuse flicker across his face before he schools his features and takes a deep breath.

“Move. I’ll do it.” He says curtly and you move out of the way for him.

“Thank you so much, Katsuki.” You say, your voice sultry and free of the shaky patheticness it’s held the whole time.

“The fuck did you just s-” He tries to angrily question but you’ve already blown a cloud of gas his direction and the effects are almost immediate. His face changes to surprise as his body gives out and falls back into your driver’s seat, then within seconds his eyes close and his breaths deepen.

You act quickly, pulling the Quirk canceling cuffs from behind your back and securing them around his wrists. You hum a happy tune to yourself as you move his unconscious body to the back seat with minimal struggle. Luckily, you have been hardcore working out in preparation for this part of the plan. You just knew that like any other God out there, Katsuki was built and densely packed full of muscle.

Once you have him situated in the backseat, you pop open the hood, reconnect your battery, then slide into the driver’s seat and start the car. ‘I know some shit about cars too, my lovely Katsuki!’ You think with a giggle as you leave the parking lot.

You drive for a few hours, occasionally blowing mentally measured doses of anesthetic gas into the backseat to keep Katsuki asleep. Finally, you drive carefully down a dirt road that leads to an old family farmhouse that you have fond memories of. The better of those memories being the most recent ones where you came out here to prepare the house so that it may be fitting of a God such as Katsuki. Though as you half drag, half carry his unconscious body into said house, something in you begins to feel.. ungratified.

You bring Katsuki to the guest room on the first story of the house and get him onto the bed. As an extra precaution, you blow a bit more gas into his face before going back out to the car to get your bags. Quickly getting back into the house and locking the front door behind you, you bring all of your stuff to the guest room and get to work.

In hindsight, it may have been a bit excessive buying chains to keep Katsuki in place.. but what if the cuffs failed at some point, huh? If you used rope then he would be able to blast right through them. At least chains would give him more of a challenge, and if there is anything that you know for sure about Katsuki, it’s that he loves a challenge.

So you get to work chaining each of his ankles to the bed posts at the foot of the bed. Then you disconnect the chain between the wrist cuffs and attach chains to each of his wrists that connect to the headboard. You stand back to look over your work, to take in his peaceful sleeping features, and realize that maybe you should have changed him before chaining him up.. Oh well, too late now, hopefully his jeans are comfy. All that’s left to do is wait for Katsuki to wake up.

It takes a total of three and a half hours for Katuski to finally stir and begin to wake from his forced slumber. Grumbles of slurred curses fall from his mouth and his eyes flutter open as he brings a hand up to his head. You watch this whole waking process from a chair in the corner of the room, some thoughts that have accumulated over the last few hours weighing heavy in your mind.

“Where the fuck am I? The fuck’s going on?” Katsuki angrily asks, the slur of his words starting to wear off.

“You are in the presence of your biggest worshiper, Katsuki.” You answer calmly, your legs crossed and hands clasped in your lap.

“Jesus fucking christ! I’m gonna kill you, you psychotic bitch!!” Katsuki shouts and aims a hand at you in an attempt to send a blast your way while he also tries to launch himself off the bed.

When neither action is successful he stares down at himself in horror while you just let out a semi-tired sigh. He looks back up to you as horror, shock, rage, and whatever else may be bubbling under his skin fights over who gets to contort his face.

“Maybe I was your biggest worshiper.. I’ve been having some interesting thoughts and feelings since we got here.” You ponder out loud as you pick at the threads of your pants.

“You’re fucking crazy!! What the fuck have you done to my Quirk?! Do you know how fucking screwed you’re about to be when people find out you’ve.. Find out about what you’ve done?! Ever heard of fucking Tar-”

“Enough, Katsuki.” You say sharply while holding a hand up. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Why you became a hero? So you could be praised? Loved? Worshiped like the God you are? I mean, your full hero name is Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.” You say, a now dark and twisting devotion gleaming in your eyes and a small smile on your lips.

“You have always been a God to me, Katsuki. Someone I have always found worthy of my love and devotion and worship. But finally having you here with me, something has changed..” You look down from Katsuki to stare intensely at a spot on the floor.

“You mean you finally lost your last fucking marble?!” Katsuki snarls out as he looks at the chains on his limbs.

“You can’t lose something you never truly had, my lovely Katsuki.. No no, it’s these feelings inside of me. They’re not so much conflicting as they are two sides of the same coin..” You try to explain but Katsuki is having none of it.

“You’re not making a lick of fucking sense to me, psycho bitch! Now, let me the fuck out!!” He shouts but you wave him off which aids in pissing him off more.

“My old feelings.. I’ve spent all of these years screaming to you that I wanna be your true love, the only one for you.. That I could be just who you need.. But now.. These new feelings.. I want to be the God now.” You say, your voice distant as pieces inside of you click.

You stand from your chair and Katsuki’s body tenses as he glares harshly at you and snarls. You step towards him with the body language and face of a mother who is trying to sweetly calm their child. Right as Katsuki brings his hands up, making to punch at you, you blow an invisible cloud of low dose anesthetic gas towards him.

You watch as his body relaxes and his glare softens to something more neutral-dopey. You send him just a little bit more, just to ensure your own safety, and wait for it to take effect before you climb onto the bed. You straddle his lap, your arms looping over his shoulders, and look into his clouded and dazed crimson eyes.

“Won’t you just plead for me now, Katsuki?”

“Y-yess..”

“You make me your God, Katsuki, and I’ll tear down the sky for you.”

“Y-Youu w-willl?”

“Mhmm, I’ll do it all for you for life, my love. We are meant to be, Katsuki Bakugo.”

“W-wee a-re m-eant t-to be..”

“Darling, please worship me..” You breathe against his neck, then start to kiss along it slowly.

The bottom of his jaw is as far as your lips get before something is suddenly coiling around your body and yanking you away from Katsuki. You shove down the urge to scream in favor of pulling in air so that you can exhale a large cloud of anesthetic gas but something wraps around your nose and mouth before you get the chance.

Your eyes dart to the doorway and connect with the glowing green eyes of Pro Hero Deku. Tears involuntarily begin to pour from your eyes and you’re not sure if it’s the fear, heartbreak, or lack of oxygen that’s getting to you. Your cries are muffled as Deku brings you closer to himself via the tendrils of his Blackwhip. He turns your body away from him while he slaps Quirk canceling cuffs on your wrists but you can feel his livid and burning gaze melting through your skull the whole time.

“Z-Zuku? Y-you’re here?” Katsuki questions dazedly from the bed.

It’s then that you see the ring on Katsuki’s left ring finger. It’s glowing a slowly pulsing red color and you scream at yourself for not checking him for tracking devices.

“Yes, Kacchan, I’m here. It’s okay now, Kacchan, you’re safe.” Deku says as he moves over to the bed to free Katsuki, all while Blackwhip squeezes tightly around you.

“Th-thanks, Zuku. Love you.” Katsuki murmurs to Deku but you could still hear him.

“I love you too, Kacchan, let’s go home.” Deku says as he breaks the final chain and picks up Katsuki.

“If there is any God that Kacchan worships it’s me, you psychotic bitch.” Deku darkly informs you as Blackwhip squeezes you even tighter and he drags you out of the house.

Note ~ Sooo.. did you like the little sprinkle of BKDK at the end there? Cute, right? *insert nervous laughter* Anywho, I hope that this fic does better here than it did on my AO3, Nicotine certainly has, so I have some hope. Stay tuned, My Lovelies, I think I'll start posting my newest fic soon! Oh and.. Happy Valentines Day, Lovelies, much loves to you all! <3

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androgynouspenguinexpert · 5 months

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babe wake up androgynouspenguinexpert posted another character analysis from the train during her finals week because she's banned herself from drawing anything new

its time to tackle vega, because he's cool.

all of the characters carry a unique narrative theme or motif - the importance of self worth for gavin, impostor syndrome for asher, consent and control for marcus, etc. vega's theme is one of, if not my favourite: nature vs nurture, learned behaviour, and the morality of necessary evil.

vega doesn't start out as a moustache-twirling villain, but he's certainly hurting people for selfish reasons. however - the line between right and wrong starts to blur even across vega's first few appearances. as he points out himself later, vega has essentially created a closed loop of suffering to feed from. yeah, he got someone roofied and kidnapped, which is bad, but he's limited his victims to two people. ivan and baby. there's even a case to be made about baby's safety - ivan is volatile and incredibly dangerous (breaking either glass or ceramic with his bare hands???), but we never see him physically harm baby other than restraining them.

vega's age (pin this) has granted him an incredible level of experience and therefore intellect. he's probably the smartest piece on the board right now, save maybe for brachium (but he's sort of on a board of his own anyway). vega knows exactly what he is. he feeds on suffering and agony, and there's nothing that can change that. equipped with this knowledge, vega has managed to streamline the production of agony without really getting his hands dirty, and basically guaranteed the survival of both people involved.

then in comes caelum. he accidentally discovers vega's operation, and immediately runs to freelancer for help. vega proceeds to kick the shit out of caelum for snitching, and almost kills him. again, this is bad. i'm definitely not defending vega's actions here - but think of it from his point of view: he's set up a way of passively producing agony and is minding his own business. a daemon who is 24 (at time of writing) stumbles across this, and immediately threatens to shut it down as well as get him arrested. that's like a toddler walking in on a meth lab and running to the cops. vega probably could drop everything and relocate to avoid the department, but that would take a lot more time and effort than just soccer kicking the toddler over a fence. so he tries, and fails, because gavin steps in. gavin being able to overpower vega - despite being potentially hundreds of thousands of years younger - speaks to the inefficiency of vega's agony system, and he's smart enough to be well aware of that. agony (in a relatively nice part of california, anyway) isn't really a renewable resource like lust or joy are. harming someone, whether physically or otherwise, enough to fuel vega for any significant amount of time would either permanently damage or kill that person. that's not sustainable.

and then vega gets arrested. the human government asks a being probably older than civilisation to pinkie promise he'll stay in a little concrete box for a while. vega explains later that he doesn't believe in unnecessary violence - unless he decides that it is necessary, i guess - so he probably went along with his arrest fairly peacefully. there's another analysis in here somewhere about where (or from whom...?) the department learned its containment methods, considering they haven't really figured out aria yet.

but anyway - vega gets tossed into maximum security. and even from behind the ward, he's finding subtle (and less subtle) ways to stir the pot, especially with his new department-assigned therapist (another quick aside that's too good for the tags; did anyone else find it super fucking funny that vega's first real friend on elegy is his therapist?). i think vega feels neutral about elegy, leaning ever so slightly towards liking it, but he knows what he is. a demon. vega never was, and never will be, human. that's why he never audibly speaks (which is a fantastic detail) - he's rejecting the most basic form of modern human communication. language. yes, he knows english, but he's probably never spoken a single word out loud. vega's fear of daemons growing away from their roots is also why he starts testing for cracks in the warden's façade - he's worried that daemons are starting to assimilate a little too much. they're losing their identity as a separate species, and losing sight of the sacrifices made during the cacophony. and he's right - the cacophony has entirely faded into myth. his suffering and loss has now been turned into a fable; a cautionary tale about dealing with forces beyond our control.

next is the escape, which is both interesting and sick as hell. vega proves that he's not a fan of violence for the sake of violence by mincing some solitaires, tossing an unconscious warden over his shoulder, and escaping the detention facility. this is vega's first real selfless action. he definitely could have left the warden to the solitaires, but chooses to save them because of their compassion towards him. this shows a little of vega's internal struggle - he's never been around unconditional like, let alone love, because he doesn't need to. he needs to be unlikeable. manipulative. cutthroat. these are the things that keep him safe, but more importantly fed. we know from his imperium counterpart (who will eventually be getting a post of his own) that vega wants to be wanted. as much as he denies it and dodges the topic when it's brought up, vega is not intrigued by the warden because he can toy with them. he's drawn to them because they're willing to understand. they're hesitant, but for now they're giving vega the benefit of the doubt. he's never been given that before.

he also starts to wear down the warden's already fragile sense of morality with the kidnapped department officer. although his methods are very questionable, vega is correct again when he explains that he doesn't really have a choice. he won't hurt the guard, and the guard can't hurt him or the warden, but will keep spewing out hate that vega can feed on for the forseeable future. he's killing two birds with one stone as well - the warden is an inchoate. it's far easier for vega to track down (read: kidnap) one racist than to juggle the emotional intake of two people.

i don't think vega is just trying to break the warden out of their department mould for the sake of shenanigans, nor does he want to return to the glory days - vega knows that humanity and daemonkind are now inseperable after the imprisonment of the sovereigns.

he just doesn't want daemons - genuinely good people trying to make the best of a not fantastic situation - to lose sight of what they are. what they used to be. not anarchists, or pawns for the department. starchildren.

forgive me. i tend to wax poetic.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted vega #MAN i love vega he's so cool no matter what he's in #and the warden just waltzes into his cell with a clipboard and an i can fix him complex strong enough to drag satan himself up from hell #the slow swap from warden to darling is going to take me out #idk man vega can blow up armoured vehicles with his mind but also he's such an old fashioned romantic methinks #alexa play put you through me by arrows in action #also i might possibly maybe have playlists for most of these bastards #maybe ill share em someday

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thebookishwallflower · 13 days

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relistening to eldermourne in which:

- zirk is currently trying to roofy a dangerous religious nutfuck’s drink with a fantasy x-lax in order to draw him from a crowd so the crew can do a blade swap (steal his blade and replace with a worse, disguised one) (zirk crit on roofying the drink) (followed by a panic attack for having to lie w such stakes)

- and, a book, Bukvar, just did a stealth mission while humming the mission impossible theme to himself, tucking himself in and out of bookcases to hide (in order to steal a seal so they can write a note from the barron)

#episode five btw #god i love eldermourne #eldermourne #naddpod #zirk vervain #bukvar

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sweeter-innocence-fics · 9 months

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She Has No Idea (That I’m Even Here) - Chapter Four

Pairings: Steve Harrington x reader, one-sided Billy Hargrove x reader, side Nancy Wheeler x Robin Buckley

Work Summary:

Steve Harrington x reader Summer Camp AU with a side order of Billy Hargrove being a dick.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4387

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist: @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye @nix-rose @fandom-princess-forevermore

Taglist info

Previous Chapter

Notes:

Final Chapter!

warnings for slut shaming, bullying, slight ED themes, Jason Carver being a dick, Billy being slightly less of a dick, little bit of fighting/violence, ronance <3, jealousy, being kinda attracted to billy despite him being a dick, sex mentions, boner mentions, weed, (potentially underage?) drinking, hellcheer friendship, mentions of roofies (nothing dub- or non-con happens though), protective stevie, chrissy cunningham deserves to be happy, mentions of homophobia

---

The last couple of weeks of camp went by in a blur. Billy had avoided you since your awkward moment in the cafeteria, but you’d been so busy with activities and a surprisingly bustling social life that you hardly noticed.

Most evenings after dinner, some combination of Steve, Eddie, Jonathan and Argyle came to hang out in your cabin, which eventually got dubbed ‘the party cabin’. The staff turned a blind eye.

A few days before the camp closed at the end of summer, you and your cabinmates, plus Steve and Eddie, were playing a card game on the floor of the cabin. The windows were all open due to the sweltering heat.

Over the sounds of cicadas chirping and Steve shuffling the deck, there was a knock at the door.

“Probably Jonathan and Argyle,” you said, about to get to your feet, but Eddie was closer to the door so he made it there first.

It was not Jonathan and Argyle. On the doorstep was Jason Carver, flanked by his friends. He seemed taken aback to see Eddie.

“What the fuck are you doing in my girlfriend’s cabin, freak?” he snapped.

“I’m in my friends’ cabin, actually,” said Eddie. He didn’t back down, so Jason shoved past him to get in. Steve was on his feet immediately, blocking Jason’s path. You couldn’t help but notice that he’d positioned himself between Jason and all the girls in the room.

With considerably less grace, you got to your feet too.

“What’s your problem, man?” asked Steve, raising both hands placatingly.

Jason glared back at him. “Stay out of this, Harrington. I’ve been hearing whispers around camp that guys have been coming and going from this cabin a lot. I’m not okay with my girlfriend hanging out with other guys without telling me.”

“Without your permission, you mean?” you snarked back at him.

His gaze fixed on you then. You felt like he was trying a bore a hole right through you with his eyes. “I never said that.”

“Regardless. Chrissy isn’t only person in this cabin. We’ve all been hanging out with our friends in the evening. Chrissy hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Oh, so all of the guys are here to see you, are they?” He scoffed, looking you up and down. “Running a train on Y/N every night? I gotta tell you, it doesn’t surprise me that you turned out to be a massive sl-”

Jason didn’t get to finish his sentence, because Steve launched himself at him, pinning him to the wall.

“You keep your damn mouth shut, Carver,” he growled at him. Chance and Andy began to advance on Steve, but you stepped into the space between them. You could feel Eddie coming to stand at your other side.

“You need to get out of my cabin, right now,” you said.

Jason glared at you. “Or what?”

“Or I throw you out,” said Steve, redoubling his grip on Jason’s shirt. “You don’t get to just come into the girls’ cabins without asking, even if your girlfriend is staying there, asshole.”

Jason shoved back at Steve, who stumbled back, letting go of his shirt. Straightening up, Jason dusted himself off, a look of disgust on his face.

“I’m here because Chrissy has barely been talking to me, and now I know why. All you little satanic freaks have been poisoning her mind.”

“Jason.” Chrissy’s firm tone cut through the air. The room fell deadly silent. “They’re not freaks. They’re my friends. You need to leave now. I can’t date someone who acts like this.”

Jason’s face went white as a sheet. “Baby, wait-”

“Don’t ‘baby’ me. It’s over, Jason.”

His brow furrowed. He pushed Steve aside and made for Chrissy. “Baby, please, let’s talk about it.”

You stepped into his path. “She said it’s over, Carver. Move on.”

“This is none of your business, slut.” He barged past you, knocking you off balance. Steve caught your arm so you wouldn’t fall, and Eddie stepped in front of Jason. Steve was poised, ready to fight, but you put out a hand, trying to calm him.

“I’m not trying to steal Chrissy away from you, Carver,” said Eddie. “She doesn’t want you here anymore. So you should get lost.”

Jason looked over his shoulder at his friends for backup, but they looked uncertain. “We don’t want any trouble,” said Patrick. “Maybe we should leave?”

“I’m not going anywhere without Chrissy.”

“Jason… We should go.”

With his friends backing away, Jason didn’t seem so tough anymore. Both Steve and Eddie were taller than him, and it was clear that if it came down to a fight, Patrick, Andy and Chance weren’t going to get involved.

He glared at Chrissy, and then at Eddie, before turning on his heel and walking out the room. The door slammed behind him, making the whole cabin shake. You let out a shaky sigh of relief.

Behind you, you heard a strangled cry. You turned to see Chrissy with her hands over her face, shoulders shaking. Eddie knelt down beside her and put a tentative hand on her arm.

“It’s okay, he’s gone, you’re alright,” he said, and she shook her head, moving her hands. She was laughing. It was a strange, hysterical laughter, but it was better than her crying.

She wiped a stray tear away with the back of her hand and said, “I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks.”

Nancy put her arm around her and squeezed. “Proud of you.”

A moment later, there was another knock on the door. You tensed, but this time, it was only Argyle and Jonathan.

“I just ran into Carver and he told me to fuck off,” said Jonathan, sitting down next to Nancy. You watched Robin’s eyes dart between them.

“Thought you were gonna get schmacked,” said Argyle, grinning hazily.

“I just broke up with him,” said Chrissy, and then she giggled.

“I’ll cheers to that. Sounds like you’re in need of a celebration.” Argyle pulled out a little baggie of weed, some rolling papers and a grinder. Eddie not so subtly sat down next to him.

“You okay?” Steve murmured to you. “Thought Carver was about to start swinging.”

“I’m okay. Are you okay?”

“Wouldn’t be my first fight,” he said, smiling at you.

“I reckon you could actually take him.” Unlike Jonathan. Unlike Billy. You hadn’t been present for either of those beatdowns, but you’d seen the aftermath.

“Thanks for your faith in me.”

On the last evening of camp, after a day of activities, there was a party for the kids. The cafeteria tables had been rearranged to make space for a dance floor, and the whole place was decorated with streamers that you and Chrissy had spent hours meticulously putting up.

The tables were laid out with pizzas and soda, and a stereo had been brought in to play music. Nancy had been in charge of putting together a mixtape for the party; Eddie had also volunteered, but had been overruled.

Even though it was for the kids, it was fun. You ate pizza until your tummy hurt, sitting on the sidelines with Eddie and Chrissy, watching the kids doing their ridiculous dances in the middle of the open space.

Jason sat across the cafeteria from you with his friends, watching Chrissy instead of the kids that they were supposed to be chaperoning. It surprised you that Chrissy didn’t seem all that bothered by it. She just sipped on her soda and clapped along, encouraging the kids to dance.

You even managed to persuade Erica Sinclair to dance. Despite her confidence, she was pretty inhibited. She was afraid of seeming ‘uncool’ for even a second. So you stood up with Eddie and Chrissy and did a few ridiculous dance moves of your own, until you noticed her out of the corner of your eye, challenging her older brother to a dance off, the winner of which was highly contested. Mission accomplished.

Once the kids had all been sent back to their cabins – full of food and sugar and caffeine – the counsellors had a celebration of their own. Your ‘party cabin’ wasn’t big enough for everyone, so you gathered in a big clearing in the woods.

Argyle brought the weed, while Eddie had managed to source a crate of beer and a couple of bottles of vodka. Nancy had squirreled away the leftover soda from the kids’ party, which meant you could have mixed drinks. Steve and Robin had built a campfire, bickering about it the whole time. Even so, it turned out pretty well.

The staff had all turned in early for the night (though you suspected they may have been having their own party in Hopper’s office) and as such, you weren’t worried about getting caught. There was no music – no one wanted to risk drawing the attention of the campers – so the air was filled with the sounds of people talking and the campfire crackling.

You were glad to see that, while Jason’s three friends were here, Jason himself was not. You imagined that he was sulking in his cabin, pining over Chrissy. Good.

There was a big, smooth-looking rock at the edge of the clearing. You squatted down and dug your hands under it, trying to lift it. It was heavy, so you only managed to get it about a foot off the ground before one side tipped to the ground again.

“Need a hand?”

You looked up to see Billy standing over you. You straightened up immediately, letting the rock fall back into its original position.

“It’s fine.”

“Come on.” He gave you a half-smile. “Where were you trying to put it?”

“Near the fire.”

“Okay.” He bent down and heaved the rocked into your arms with considerably more grace than you had. His arms and abs clenched with the effort. “Show me where you want it.”

Feeling a little embarrassed, you led him back over to the fire and pointed to the spot you’d been eyeing up (close enough to feel its warmth, but not close enough to be bothered by the smoke). He lowered it into position and even straightened it up for you. You had a perfect little bench for one.

It was a warm night, so you slipped Steve’s hoody off your shoulders and lay it down on the rock for you to sit on.

Billy cleared his throat awkwardly. “What are you drinking?” he asked.

“Uhh… vodka lemonade?”

“Alright.” You watched him walk over to the tree that the drinks were being stored under and grab you a cup.

Normally, you weren’t sure you’d trust a drink prepared by Billy Hargrove, but you had just watched him make the whole thing, step by step. Besides, you knew that Nancy, Robin and Chrissy would never let you wander off with Billy even if he did slip something in your drink.

“What was the point of me bringing this all the way over here if you’re not even gonna sit?” he asked, gesturing at the rock good-humouredly. He had a beach chair under his arm and a can of beer squeezed in the crook of his elbow. “Or you could sit on this. It’s actually designed for sitting.”

“I prefer the rock. It’s more rugged.” You sat down and he passed you your cup. With a hand now free, he unfolded the beach chair, sat down and cracked open his beer. As he took a sip, you watched a bead of condensation roll down his chin.

His attractiveness was undeniable, but it was at times like this that you realised that he was beautiful. If he hadn’t treated you so badly for all these years, you probably would’ve thrown yourself at him that night at the cafeteria, in spite of your feelings for Steve. Unlike Steve, you were sure that Billy liked you.

But in the real world, Billy had spent years finding little ways to poke and prod at your insecurities, chipping away at your self-esteem. Had he liked you back then? Or did saving his life make him see you in a new light? Was his bullying all some kind of strategy to make you feel like you couldn’t do better than him, or had he been in denial, taking out his confusion at his own feelings on you?

It didn’t matter. He was an asshole. An apology, a drink, and moving a rock weren’t enough to make up for years of ill-treatment. Could you like him in the future? Maybe, but there was a lot more work to be done before that.

Steve had been an asshole once, and now you were head over heels for him. It stood to reason that, if people could change, your feelings about them could too.

“Are we gonna talk about what happened that night at the cafeteria?” you asked.

“I’m gonna need more beers before that.” He started to stand up, but you grabbed his forearm, and he froze.

“Sit down and start acting like an adult for once.”

He met your eyes and slowly lowered himself back into his chair. “What’s there to talk about? I got the message. You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Billy.”

In spite of everything, you found it hard to hate him. You knew that he’d moved out of his dad’s house as soon as he turned eighteen, and at that point, he’d changed. He wasn’t nearly so violent and volatile as he had been.

Of course, you’d never witnessed it yourself, but there had been rumours about his dad. That he’d hit him. And sometimes Billy would come to school sporting a shiner, and he’d tell everyone that he’d got into a fight, but you hadn’t been quite sure.

Maybe people are all products of their environment. Steve was only ‘King Steve’ in high school, surrounded by adoring admirers who were too sycophantic and cruel to tell him when he was being an asshole. Without those admirers, he was kind and caring and sweet and protective.

Maybe Billy was Billy because of his dad. But that didn’t change anything. He’d still done everything he’d done. He’d still tormented you for years and beaten the crap out of Steve and threatened to hurt Lucas for dating Max, and probably a lot of other stuff you didn’t know about.

Maybe someday he would stop being the boy who did those sorts of things. But he would always be the boy who had done those things.

“I don’t hate you. I just don’t want to date you. You’ve spent years making me feel like shit. How could anyone build a relationship out of that?”

Billy sighed. “I know I’ve fucked up. I know I have. But I’m trying to make it better.”

“Well, keep trying.” You took a deep swig of your drink. You were pleasantly surprised to find that Billy had even put ice in it.

“Alright, you don’t want to date me. How about we just have some fun? I could show you a real good time.” He leered at you, but you now saw this for what it was. He was falling back on a defence mechanism, acting like a perv to try and push you away. Or maybe he just really wanted to fuck you. Either way you leant back in disgust.

“No thanks. I’m not interested in having a ‘good time’ with you.”

“Because you’re in love with Harrington.”

“This has nothing to do with Steve!” you snapped, far too loudly. There was a lull in conversation as people turned to look at you. Your face was hot, from the fire, the booze or the embarrassment, you weren’t sure.

“You should probably tell him that. He’s been staring at me like he wants to kill me for the last five minutes.” Billy took a sip of his beer and nodded towards the edge of the clearing. You followed his gaze and saw Steve leaning against a tree, crushed beer can in his hand. When he saw you looking, he quickly looked away.

“I’m man enough to know when I’m beat. I hope he makes you happy,” said Billy. And with that, he stood up and patted you on the shoulder.

You realised with horror that he was walking over to Steve. Steve visibly tensed, but Billy just said something to him, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at you. Steve looked up and your eyes met. While you were looking at Steve, Billy tossed his beer can on the ground and walked off into the trees.

You had told Billy that none of this had anything to do with Steve, but you wondered if you had been wrong. Steve had been a constant presence this camp season, always there to feed you that little bit of hope that maybe you had a chance with him.

If you had truly believed that nothing could ever happen with Steve, if he hadn’t showered you with compliments and carried your trays and lent you his hoody as well as a hundred other little kindnesses, would you have let Billy kiss you?

There was a time when you had felt desperate to be loved. Billy had fueled that, with all of his insults and teasing that made you believe no one desired you. Maybe in another world, you would’ve been desperate enough to let him kiss you, and fuck you, and take whatever else he wanted from you because that’s all you thought you were worth.

But in this world, there was Steve. Steve let you know that it was okay to hope for better. To want someone who made you feel like you were worth wanting.

A moment after Billy disappeared, Steve pushed himself away from his tree and walked towards you. Your heart was starting to speed up. You drained the rest of your cup nervously.

“You want another one of those?” he asked you.

“Sure. Vodka lemonade, please.”

“I know. I watched Billy make it for you.”

He took your cup and went over to the drinks. Your eyes scanned the rest of the party, looking for your friends. Chrissy was smoking a joint with Eddie, Argyle and Jonathan. Her hair, normally tied back in a tight ponytail, hung loosely around her shoulders. She looked happy.

You looked around for Robin and Nancy, but couldn’t see them anywhere.

As Steve slid into the seat next to you, you asked him, “Have you seen Robin?”

He looked around and then leant closer to you. “She snuck off with Nancy a few minutes ago, after I told her to stop being such a dumbass about it. She had to take a couple of shots, but she did it.”

“You know about Robin?” you asked in disbelief.

“I’m the first person she told.” He grinned at you, looking proud. That surprised you. You knew that her and Steve were close, but you couldn’t imagine her confiding something like that in him. You supposed you knew them both less well than you thought. “And a couple of weeks ago, she told me that she’d told you too. She’d been so nervous, but she said you took it well.”

“Robin is my friend, no matter what.”

“Good. ‘Cause she’s my best friend, and I can’t be spending time with anyone who’d hurt her.”

“I’ll cheers to that,” you said, mimicking Argyle as you clinked your cup against his beer can.

“So, I see you gave Billy the bum’s rush.”

“I was nice about it!” you protested.

“Nicer than he deserved, I’ll bet.” His fingers tapped against the arm of his chair. You wanted to put your hand on his, but you were nowhere near drunk enough.

“He, uh… He tried to kiss me a few weeks ago. I didn’t let him.”

Steve swallowed a sip of beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. After a moment, he said, “Good.”

“Why’s that good?” you asked, hoping that you knew the answer.

“Because he’s an asshole.” Your heart sank a little, but then he said, “And you deserve better. You deserve someone who makes you feel you could tell them anything. Someone who won’t turn around and use your insecurities to hurt you.”

“Uh-huh. You got someone in mind?” You had almost finished your second drink now, and you were starting to feel a little bold. As Steve opened his mouth, a wave of anxiety overcame you, and you got to your feet. “I’m gonna go get another drink. You want one?”

“Sure.”

You expected him to wait for you, but after a moment, you realised that he was following you. As you poured a more generous helping of vodka into your cup, he said, “Can we talk? Somewhere more private?”

Afraid of what might come out of your mouth if you spoke, you just nodded.

You followed him through the trees, wondering how the fuck he managed to navigate through the thick foliage, until the two of you emerged into a familiar clearing. The big wide stump was waiting for you, looking enticing under the moonlight.

Steve didn’t sit down though. He took a big swig of his beer, swallowed, and then said, “I’ve been kinda messed up over you all summer. It’s been a long time since I felt this way about anyone.”

Your heart stuttered. Under the moonlight, his eyes were big and dark and bright as they stared into yours.

“Robin said I was being an idiot. And a hypocrite, because I was always telling her to shoot her shot with Nancy. Every time I was alone with you, I’d get so close to telling you how I felt, and every time, I clammed up. I was scared to make a fool of myself, which is stupid because I’ve been making a fool of myself in front of girls for years. Just ask Robin. She used to keep a tally of all the times I struck out. I wasn’t scared to put myself out there. But with you, it’s different. I was just so terrified that you’d turn me down. So I chickened out, every time.”

“Steve…” you breathed, unable to believe what you were hearing. Steve Harrington had thought you would turn him down. The world was upside down.

“But then you rejected Billy and I thought that maybe… well, maybe you might like me too? Even though every time I got close to you, you’d end up backing away. You were always the one who left first.”

“Because I was scared,” you said. “Scared that it was all a joke. Or that you were just being nice. Scared that I’d get too close and become too clingy and you’d think I was a gross creep or something.”

“I’d never think that.”

“Steve…” His name came out as half a laugh and half a sigh of relief. “I’ve had a crush on you since, like, fifth grade.”

The invisible bar that had been holding you at arms’ length from him seemed to collapse, hitting you right in the stomach. Steve crossed the distance in one stride and cupped your face in his hands. He kissed you, and you felt like stars were bursting inside you.

It was a sweet, gentle, chaste kiss at first, but you were a little tipsy and a little horny from the way Steve was touching you, so you kissed him back sloppily, licking at the inside of his mouth.

He responded in kind, hands touching you everywhere, trailing kisses down the column of your throat as you gasped for breath. He manoeuvred you both until your butt was pressed against the tree stump, his hands sliding up the outside of your thighs until they reached the hem of your shorts.

You kissed until you ran out of breath, and then you leant your head back, letting Steve nibble and suck at your neck. The moon stared back down at you, almost full. You wondered if the moon was making you crazy, or if it was just Steve making you feel like this, desperately grinding on him in the woods.

You hooked one leg over his hip, tugging him closer.

“We need to stop,” he panted, fingertips sliding up under your t-shirt. “Or else I’m gonna have a problem.”

“Feels like you already have a problem.” And it was true that you could feel him through his shorts, half-hard and pressed up against your leg.

He stilled. “As tempting as the idea of fucking you in the woods is,” your stomach swooped at the suggestion, “I want to take my time with you. Somewhere where no one is going to interrupt us.”

You swallowed and nodded. “Okay.”

A smile flitted across his face. “When camp is over, do you wanna go out with me?”

“Yeah, I really do.”

When you finally managed to drag yourselves away from each other, you helped each other straighten your clothes before heading back to the main party.

Nancy and Robin had re-emerged, sitting on a log by the fire, thigh to thigh and both looking very giggly. Nancy’s hair was messier than you’d ever seen it, and you thought that maybe you could see the trace of a hickey on Robin’s neck.

Your eyes met hers, and she stared at the way Steve’s arm was slung casually over your shoulder. She grinned at you, and you grinned back.

You passed by Eddie, who looked at you both with wide eyes and an excited smile. He was about to say something, but Steve raised a hand.

“Don’t you dare,” he warned, and Eddie raised both hands in surrender.

Steve’s hoody was still on the rock where you left it. You tried to offer it back to him, and he looked positively offended by the suggestion. He picked it up and draped it over your shoulders, and then sat down on the rock himself. You were about to sit in the chair beside it when he tugged you down to sit sideways across his lap.

“How are people gonna know you’re my girl if you’re not wearing my hoody?” My girl.

“Well, I think the fact I’m sitting in your lap right now might be a clue.”

“You’re so smart,” he said, grinning at you dopily. You couldn’t help but giggle. “My girl’s so smart.”

---

Notes:

Thank you for reading <3

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn

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quietbluejay · 11 days

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Angel Exterminatus 7

I know I said that the whole situation with Lucius and Eidolon in Galaxy in Flames was BS, but that is because I love their petty rivalry Eidolon, through gritted teeth: Lucius…is really…good…with a sword…

OH THEY ARE LITERALLY DRINKING THE TEARS OF SLAVES I've joked about this before but I didn't think I was actually gonna read it happen onscreen

Vull Bronn is being metaphorically, and, possibly, literally seduced to the dark side

Oh hey I did not expect this reoccuring theme to pop up in this book, or in this context

tfw your buddy shows up in time to stop you from being Magic Roofied, if not regular roofied

Thamatica at it again congrats buddy you killed 30 people

and now back to Vull Bronn who is having the worst hangover ever

hm yes i think grendel very much enjoyed striking a superior officer

at this point I genuinely have to believe McNeill thinks sweat is oily. This is like the THIRD TIME it's been described that way.

This whole repeated element in the Horus Heresy is one of my favourites

Another McNeillism. I think the word you want is "ingratiated" hey HEY don't stare into the warp or the skull in the warp will stare back at you

I continue to enjoy these exchanges

does consort have a warhammer meaning I'm not aware of or is this implying what I think it is.

sidenote but I'm surprised they're allowed to say "damned" given the anti-religion thing. I feel like if Loken had said it he'd worry about someone Having A Talk with him.

oh yeah forgot to mention but, McNeill still has pacing problems they're better! much better! but still present

also man that was dark i really am hoping Cassander gets to die soon (sidenote: imperial fists 🤝 death guard) i looked up spoilers and he gets to go out like a boss, so, looking forwards to that it's funny but i am continually surprised by how not-grimdark the warhammer books are well okay except for servitors etc being everywhere but that does not get dwelled on, usually it really feels like the writers don't want to write that kind of horror or in some cases, horror at all which i mean, fair, I don't there's a lot of stuff I like reading that I absolutely do not want to write it's just very different tonally from the impression i got before I started im not complaining! tbh if it had been what i thought I wouldn't have stuck around

me: it's not very grimdark me right now: currently reading about the poor dudes fabius experimented on being turned loose to kill Iron Hands and being unable to stop and also this:

this is just gross though, i wouldn't call it grimdark, it's body horror but not grimdark

Perturabo is wargaming here and the Emperor's Children are playing d&d

fabius: sometimes people come up to me when im laughing and ask "what's so funny" fabius: and i say to them fabius: how dare you speak to me

oh, ugh, Fabius is one of those people he'd make a great X-Men villain

lmaoooo suffer

... huh He actually does possess a normal person's understanding of honour that makes it all the worse when he ignores it, full knowledge makes you more culpable not less~

Kroeger walked over the invisible line

EYYYY

okay so HOW did Lucius survive ship explosion

ah. Of course this is how all the named characters get out of it. it just feels cheap

Stopping here because I had a LOT to say about the next bit so it deserves its own separate post.

#warhammer 40k #bluejay reads warhammer #i'm so sorry everyone this is so long #if it feels like i'm spamming let me know and i'll make the posts longer slash try and cut out more

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my-own-walker · 6 months

Text

Someone You've Never Seen Before

A Kyle Spencer Fan Fiction

frat!kyle AU, fem!main character, sexual themes, mature language, use of drugs and alcohol, frat boy antics

16.

I awoke on my side. I could only open one eye at first, the second wouldn't quite follow suit. What little light there was in the room caused me to wince in pain. A radiating migraine settled into the left side of my head. My mouth was stiflingly dry, almost as if I hadn't drunk anything for days.

Shifting sunlight cast strange shadows on the wall next to my bed. Next to my bed. Both of my eyes shot open, a surge of adrenaline going through my body. I could feel someone next to me in bed, which made my stomach drop.

Who brought me home? I thought, mind frantic for any fragment of a memory from the night prior. But after talking to...someone...I couldn't remember who, nothing came up. Not a single moment after. It was entirely disorienting and sickening. I gathered the courage to turn my body to face who was in my bed, my mind racing with options of who it could be.

It turned out to be the person I least expected to find in my bed the morning after a party. Lily.

She lay awake on the right side of my bed, on her side facing me, as if she'd been watching me. She perked up when we made eye contact.

"There you are, Hannah," she smiled, reaching out to touch my face gingerly. "Welcome back."

"Lily," I tried to say, but it was a soundless attempt. Nothing came out but a pathetic croak.

"Jesus, sorry," she half-laughed, sitting up and grabbing a water bottle off of the right bedside table. "Drink this."

I took in large sips, still lying on my side, thirsty for a reason I couldn't even fathom. The water was a welcome blessing, washing over the cracked, dry desert that had formed in my throat. "Fuck," I managed after a final gulp of the liquid.

Lily laughed delicately before reaching over and rubbing my back. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Fucking head hurts," I mumbled. "Can't remember anything."

"That's what I expected," she sighed.

I sat up, ignoring the blistering pain in my head protesting the action. Panic rose in my throat as I tried to think back to anything that happened the night prior. My stomach churned in a disgusting, seasick kind of way. "Lily, I can't remember anything," I said, quickly, my voice shaking. "What happened? What did I do?"

"It's okay, it's okay," she whispered, scooting closer and wrapping her arms around me. "We took care of you. We got you home safe. Nothing too bad happened."

"What happened?" I pleaded, eyes filling with tears.

"I'm so sorry, Hannah. You got drugged," she uttered squeezing me tight.

"Who? I'm so confused," I cried, feeling utterly helpless and empty, paralyzed by a disorienting lapse in memory. I sat, frozen in Lily's grip, trying to process what she had just told me.

"Julian Garcia. Do you remember talking to him?" she answered.

I rocked forward a bit, that name making a slight remembrance bubble to the surface of my thoughts. Jules. Yes, I spoke with him. "Y-yes," I replied hesitantly. "We talked. I remember that."

"We found you in his room. He didn't do anything, we're sure of it," she explained. "Well, besides roofie your drink. He didn't have time to touch you."

"Time?"

"Before we realized something was wrong and went to find you," she continued. "I'm so glad we did. I had your phone and everything. Fuck, Hannah, it was so intense."

I sharply inhaled and blew the air out through my nose, chewing my cheek as I processed her words. Something about her recollection nagged at the back of my mind. Then, it hit me. "W-wait, who is we? Who were you with?" I asked abruptly. I moved and she released me from her arms, giving me the ability to turn to face her.

Lily chewed the nail on her thumb before scratching the back of her neck and sighing. "Kyle," she answered in a barely audible mumble. My gut twisted.

"Sorry?"

"Kyle. Your Kyle," she said, clearer this time. She scoffed and shook her head. "It was insane. He broke the door down. Like, physically kicked the door in to get to you."

I screwed my eyes shut and cocked my head to the side, waiting to wake up from the dream I was very obviously in. However, when I opened them again, Lily was still in front of me with that same concerned look on her face. "Kyle was there? What?" I questioned. "How?"

"The timeline goes like this if you're ready to hear it," she began, clasping her hands together right below her chin. I nodded, trying to fathom how all of this made sense. "Apparently, Kyle saw you talking to Julian in the living room when he got there. A bunch of people were crashing the mixer at that point, that's why he was there. Then, Kyle saw Julian lead you into his room." I nodded, the fact that Kyle was watching me dawning on me.

"Okay," I uttered, still nodding to myself while staring off into middle distance. It was insane to me that all of this was simply...gone...from my brain. None of this followed me to the morning.

"I got a weird feeling about things. I usually keep an eye out for you and I couldn't see you anywhere. And I had your damn phone," Lily continued. "I wasn't drunk yet so I started to worry. I went to look for you in the basement when I saw Kyle. I don't know why, but I figured you might be with him, yelling at him or something, I don't know."

I laughed audibly. "If I had seen him there, I probably would have," I scoffed wryly.

"He said he saw you go into Julian's room so I ran upstairs, but he followed me. He showed me which door you went into. The door was locked and no one answered when I banged on it," she went on. "Then he had the clever idea of putting her ear to the door and I guess he heard something, I don't know. He told me and everyone around us to step back and he literally kicked the door in. Then he punched Julian. Then he carried you out of the house and down the street."

"Fuck," I muttered, sitting up a bit straighter. My head was spinning for a number of reasons, but Kyle rescuing me was at the top of the list.

"Leon drove us home. Kyle stayed with us until he saw you safely in bed," Lily whispered. "Are you okay?"

I covered my face with my hands, applying pressure to my eyes before rubbing my palms in circles. When I put my head up, I was crying again. "I'm great," I sobbed, flopping forward to put my head in her lap. She rubbed my head gently. "Thank you for saving me, Lily."

"You're okay. It's okay. Kyle really deserves the credit. He really saved you."

"I don't even know what to say to that," I whimpered, tears stinging the back of my eyes. "That just makes things worse. I'm supposed to hate him."

"I know. I know," she cooed. "For now, let's just focus on you. Let's take care of you."

Monday rolled around quickly. Life doesn't stop for you. It doesn't stop after bad things happen. You have to resume your life as if things didn't occur, still carrying the goddamned heavy burden around with you.

That's exactly what I did. I walked to class, sat in my new spot, and did my best to focus without paralyzing fear permeating every fiber of my being. I didn't want to see Julian, and I sure as hell didn't want him to see me.

The entire time in class, though, I couldn't help but stare down at Kyle rather than the board. By saving me, he not only made things more complicated, but he also rubbed salt into a still very fresh wound. If he was only playing boyfriend, then why did he care enough to watch me? Were his actions an attempt at acheiving absolution? I didn't want to speak to him, but I wanted clarity.

Looking at him hurt.

The week trudged on. I didn't get a text from him on Thursday. I figured he must have given up on me.

I spent the weekend in the apartment, trying to put the pieces of my sanity back together. Nothing felt right. I wanted so badly to hug Kyle and thank him for what he did, but I also wanted to punch him hard and make him bleed.

I didn't hate him. I didn't hate him at all. In fact, I wanted to go back to before I knew things were fake.

Every man I saw after being drugged had horns and tails and little red pitchforks. They terrified me. All of them except him. His blonde hair formed a halo around his head that glowed and shimmered. I wanted to reach out and touch him. I wanted to feel safe. But I couldn't. There was no part of me that was willing to swallow any pride. He hurt me after all.

Yet, two things kept coming to my mind. You must stay close to those who feel like sunshine and wrap you in warmth. And what's meant to be will always find a way to be.

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