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bkgml · 1 year

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katsuki taking care of drunk you!

you and katsuki were in a weird place.

you both know you want each other, (so does the entire dorm). you’ve just never confessed so you’re in a weird stage of being more than friends but less than lovers.

earlier today kami got an invite from one of his one night stands to a party at a local college. she said to bring whoever he wants, so he invited you, bakugou, kirishima, mina, and jiro. you were so excited, if you could get katsuki to have a beer with you, maybe he’d loosen up a little and you could talk about your ‘situation’.

until bakugou had the genius idea to be the designated driver. why does he have to be so stupid and responsible?

guess you’re drinking away your problems tonight.

you get ready with the girls, giggling and bringing multiple outfits to mina’s dorm so she could pick for you.

“yn! you should literally wear none of these!” she saying laughing.

“you want bakugou to take notice of you tonight right?” she asks.

“well i mean a little bit, but not just for him! i’m independent!” you yell and jiro whoops.

“you’ve been independent for too long yn! it’s time to take what you want! i think, you should wear…. this!” she says pulling a dress out of her closet.

the perfect little black dress.

“okay i’m with mina now!!” jiro! how could she betray you like this!

you laugh and hold the dress up to yourself in the mirror.

“alright, alright! but only cause i’m going to look good in this.” you say shocked.

the girls cheer and you all finish getting ready.

“what the hell’s taking so long.” bakugou grumbles to his friends in the hallway.

“relax, bakugou we’re here!” you say, walking down the hallway with your girls.

“wow! you guys look great!” kirishima says, proud.

“thanks kiri!” the three of you say together.

you all get in the car and head to the party.

as you pull up, you take notice of the massive place you’re going to.

“holy shit! this is going to be awesome! our first college party!” mina squeals.

“none of you little shits better get lost, or pass out, or nothing. we’re all meeting back in this car at midnight or you’re all fuckin dead.” bakugo warns.

a chorus of ‘fine’ sings as you all get out and head to the party.

you spend the night trying to forget your issues with bakugou, by drinking, dancing, drinking, talking to your friends, drinking.

“haven’t you had enough?” bakugou says in your ear.

“lighten up. it’s a party, remember?” you say, walking away.

bakugou grumbles and goes to find a wall to lean on, so he can stand there and glare at you and your friends.

some loser chick tries to talk to him, and he looks her way to turn her down as politely as he can.

but as he looks back, you’re fucking gone.

“what the fuck? i looked away for one goddamn second.” he says to himself. eyes scanning the party in search of you.

after a minute of searching he hears a guy ask you to go upstairs with him. he’s about to lose his shit before he sees you walking up the stairs with him.

he scoffs. are you joking right now?

“yo!! bakugou! is that yn? whys she going upstairs with that guy? thought she liked you.” kirishima says.

“yeah. so did i.” he grumbles.

“well are you sure she wants to be going upstairs with him? she had a lot to drink” kirishima asks.

fuck he didn’t even think of that. he didn’t hear you say yes.

he stomps towards you, he needs to make sure you’re okay.

suddenly he sees your quirk activate, the guy sent into the wall.

you turn and see bakugou. fuck you need out of here.

“katsuki!” you say, rushing towards him.

katsuki? his heart jumps.

“hey, hey, what’s goin on?” he asks with his hands on your shoulders.

“wanna go home.” you slur.

fuck you’re so drunk.

“yeah, come on.” he says while leading you towards the rest of the group.

“alright dipshits, let’s go.” he says.

“whattt, but it’s not even 11:30!” mina defends.

“we’re going. now.” he says walking away, pushing you along with him.

you guys make it outside before you’re running into a bush to hurl your guts out.

“shit. come on, yn. you alright?” he says, rubbing your back, soothingly.

you stand straight and wipe your mouth.

“i wanna goooo.” you whine, pouting.

“i know, let’s get you home.”

you all get into the car, katsuki guides you to the passenger seat.

“but this is kiris seat.” you say, feeling guilty for taking it.

“i know, he won’t mind though, okay? you’re so sweet for thinkin of him.” he runs his fingers through your hair and you lean into his touch.

you all get into the car. while katsuki drives he keeps an eye on you, squirming in your seat.

“katsuki, i dont feel good.” you whine.

the car goes silent. you called him by his first name? and he didn’t murder you??

katsuki glares at them for a moment before turning his eyes back to the road. a silent ‘dont fuckin say a word’ warning and the people in the car resume to their normal chattiness.

“i know you don’t, yn. we’re almost there, okay? just hang on.” he soothes.

you stop squirming and try to take deep breaths to settle your stomach.

“alright we’re here, get out.” katsuki says to the idiots in his back seat.

once they leave katsuki gets out and opens your door for you. you run past him and throw up in another bush.

“fuck, are you okay?” katsuki asks.

“i wanna go to sleep, katsu.” you mumble.

katsuki takes you inside and walks you to your dorm.

“where are your keys, yn?” he asks and you hand them to him.

he opens your door and steps inside.

“are you done throwing up for tonight?” he asks cautiously.

“think so.” you hiccup.

“go brush your teeth, kay? i’ll get your pyjamas.” he says and gently pushes you into your bathroom.

he looks around your room and guesses which drawer your pyjamas sit in. thankfully, he guesses right.

he picks some pyjamas for you and lays them on your bed.

you come out of the bathroom looking more refreshed.

“alright, you’re all set. see you tomorrow during your hangover.” katsuki says, turning on his heel and waking to your door.

“wait!” you call to him. he turns to you.

you walk to him and kiss him. hard. trying to start something you can’t finish. at least you used mouthwash.

“hey, hey, hey, no.” he says pulling you off him.

“please? i can’t do this waiting thing anymore katsuki.” you plead with him.

“i’m sorry, but i’m not doing this for the first time with someone who probably won’t even remember it in the morning.” he sighs, walking away again.

you run up to him again and wrap your arms around him, your cheek pressed to his back.

“i’m sorry. i made you upset.” you say.

god you’re so drunk.

he turns in your grip.

“i’m not upset, baby. i just don’t want us doing something we’ll regret cause you were drunk.”

you look up at him with wide, glossy eyes.

“will you stay the night with me? i don’t feel good and you’re so warm.” you plead.

he thinks for a moment. would you freak out if he was in your bed and you don’t remember why, maybe… but you trust him enough to believe why.

“okay, i’ll stay. get into the bathroom and change. i’ll wait for you.” he says, ushering you to the bathroom.

“promise you won’t leave?” you ask.

“i promise.” he pats your head and goes to sit on your bed.

thank god he wore comfortable clothes. you would probably have a harder time believing that nothing happened if he was in his boxers.

a couple minutes go by until you step out of the bathroom. you shyly walk up to him and sit in his lap.

you’re clingy when you’re drunk.

you wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head on his chest.

he laughs lightly and swings his legs onto your bed before pulling the covers over the two of you. you being completely on top of him, curled into a little ball to help settle your stomach.

he runs his fingers through your hair and you kiss his peck in response.

maybe he’ll let dunce face drag you two to a couple more parties.

part 2

#bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou x yn #bakugou x you #bakugou katuski x reader

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sykokilljoyy · 1 year

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secrets - wroetoshaw imagine

request: none! however it does kind of link to a few :p words: 1538 warnings: little bit embarrassing i can't lie. implied smut, allusions to sex, but generally just a lot of second hand embarrassment.

tl;dr: harry and y/n have been seeing each other for a while, but the secret's out when harry accidentally exposes some very intimate truths

“Come on, Harry,” Simon laughed, glee written all over his features. He holds onto JJ for support, who chuckled beside him.

“Boys, this is awful!” Harry‘s cheeks were burning, laughing along in front of the camera, which was setup haphazardly on the astro-turf football pitch.

“You said you would do it!” Ethan yelled playfully, holding his friend to his word, “At least give us odds.”

“Fine. Odds of 1-10,” Harry sighed.

It was just a stupid forfeit. He’d accidentally hit the goalpost and due to the rules of the Sidemen Sunday, he would have to do the next 3 penalties with his shirt off. It was the middle of January, so the bite of cold was nipping at his neck already, intruding through his layers of clothing.

“Bet,” Ethan giggled from behind the camera.

“Alright, boys,” Simon called, “3…2…1…”

“Six.”

“Fuck!” Harry cursed, a pit of nervousness pooling in his stomach.

The boisterous whoops and laughs from his friends helped to spur him on a little, but he had never been very confident in front of the camera, let alone topless in the middle of winter, outside the safety confines of his flat. A little part of him was beyond thankful that you were here, tucked behind the camera to help with filming. None of the boys knew, but Harry and yourself had been seeing each other in secret.

It started with just hanging out after filming every so often, grabbing lunch or rides home, just enjoying getting to know each other as a little more than acquaintances. This, however, turned quickly into a couple dates, which fell into long nights and messy mornings, legs tangled in his bed and hands reaching to wherever they could. Not that either of you were ashamed of the other, but there was a certain thrill of keeping it all under the covers that neither were fast to get rid of.

“Come on, Bog,” Ethan hollered. This triggered a wave of ceremonious chants, something along the lines of ‘get your tits out’ from his friends.

Sighing in defeat, Harry shook his jacket off hastily, presuming that if he just gets it over and done with, it’ll be less mortifying. Cheers continued until he was down to his last layer, only himself noting the memory of you wearing this exact t-shirt in his flat the night before, he tried not to think of the fact it still smelt like you.

As his lifted the shirt above his head, the blush dusted upon his freckled shoulders very visible, silence fell on the group. Now, it really wasn’t often that this hyper group of men were dead silent, but after seeing the litter of hickeys cascading down Harry’s chest, sensual scratches marking the skin of his back – a pin could drop and it would sound like something nuclear.

Behind the camera, you blushed deeply, pulling the hem of your hoodie to your nose to hide it. Your eyes followed the lines of the scratches on his back, the memories of the night before still more than fresh in your mind. Averting your gaze to the floor, you could feel your cheeks on fire. Luckily, your friends were all too distracted to notice.

“What?” Harry was immediately self-conscious at the unexpected reaction, pulling his shirt to his chest to cover himself. It was only when he caught a glimpse of something crimson, that it clicked.

“Oh fuck!”

Ethan was the first to laugh, a cackle that broke the shocked tension, the dam of silence bursting open as all of his friends jump to embarrass him.

It was a perfect overreaction, realistically it was only a couple hickeys and such, but as Harry had been historically private about his love life to his friends, this was an ideal opportunity to grill the youngest Sideman.

“Are you dating a vampire or something?” Josh joked first, earning a robust reaction from the group. Followed by waves of playful digs at the already embarrassed blonde boy, who was sheepishly pulling his shirt back over his chest.

“Who knew Harry was getting laid so much?” JJ was flabbergasted, playing up to the camera for a reaction.

“Seems like a very satisfied customer,” Simon chuckled, ruffling Harry’s hair – much to his discomfort, he pouted like a kid.

“Ask her yourself, isn’t that right, Y/N?” Josh chuckled.

He had only meant it as a joke. He had no idea of your relationship, only meaning to embarrass the boy further, as he knew Harry found you attractive.

However, when the pair of you froze like deer in headlights, your throat dry as you try and stutter a whimsical response, panicked eyes darting to each other for support, Josh’s eyes blew wide like dinner plates.

“Oh fuck, was it actually you?” All eyes were on you now, your heart pulsating loudly in your chest, waves of embarrassment hitting you. There was a reason you stayed behind the camera, the pressure of attention being directly on you made you crumble.

Harry knew that, so he spoke loudly to drag eyes back to him, now fully-clothed, “Yeah, uh, we’ve been seeing each other for a while now.”

“I knew it!” Tobi called, turning to Simon with a victorious grin on his face.

“Fuck!” Simon cursed, “I said it was bullshit.”

“How did you know?” Harry asked Tobi, blush still tainting his cheeks.

“Harry, you practically can’t keep your eyes off her when you think no one’s watching,” this made you flustered, avoiding Harry’s dazed eyes.

“Fuck sake,” JJ interrupted, everyone turning to him as he fiddled with the camera, “Does that mean we can’t use any of this footage now?”

Chuckles rose from the group, but ultimately it was down to you and Harry to make that decision. His gaze found you, blue eyes laced with affection and a tiny bit of an apology for the embarrassment. Now that the cat was out the bag, he couldn’t care who knew. Of course, there was a terrifying reality of the fans reaction, but you’d been shipped so many times it seemed redundant by now.

“No, it’s okay, I don’t mind,” You smiled nervously, Harry looking at the football on the ground to hide his boyish grin, kicking it around a little at his feet.

Before everyone hopped back into recording the Sidemen Sunday, returning to their football forfeits, he made his way to you, whilst his friends were distracted retrieving the footballs that were kicked haphazardly across the pitch.

“You okay?” He asked softly, his cold hand ghosting over yours. The pair of you were used to keeping things out of the public eye, subtle glances, fleeting touches, whispers shared whilst no one was looking.

“I’m nervous,” You replied gently, feeling tense under his watchful eye.

“Don’t be,” His head dropped to kiss your cheek carefully, letting his lips linger on your icy skin, a safe way to reassure you that he was there.

It was only small; a gentle expression scratching the surface of his affectionate ways, but your heart skittered at the feeling of his hand playing with yours and his warm lips pressing against you. The strong scent of his cologne hit you at the closeness, the heat radiating from him in the bitter January air. You were still riding the coat tails of a silly schoolgirl crush as he pulled away, the exhilaration of being able to touch him outside the privacy of closed doors spurring you on.

Reaching up, you touched his cheek savouringly, leaning up onto your tip-toes and pressing a kiss to his lips. His hand slipped under your jacket and onto your clothed waist, pulling you towards him only lightly, smiling into the kiss once he felt the corners of your lips curl. Pulling apart, he hid his flustered blush by placing a kiss to your hairline.

“Do you want to get dinner after this?” You enquired hopefully, playing with the strings of his hoodie.

“Only if I can get a couple more of these,” Harry whistled playfully, pulling the collar of his jumper down to reveal the tender, crimson love bites.

“Harry!” You buried your face in his hoodie, embarrassment heating your cheeks promptly, his chest stuttering as he chuckles at your flustered reaction.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He giggled, and you peeled yourself from his embrace, glancing over to see the rest of the group getting ready to film again.

“I’ll take you somewhere real nice, to make up for it.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that, Mr,” You punched his bicep lightly, pushing him away, back towards the camera setup, “Now, go film. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

He nodded, pressing a quick final kiss to your cheek before jogging away sheepishly, batting away the childish calls and digs from his friends.

You watched him happily, smiling at the way he carried himself, the light in his eyes as he joked and battled with his friends, an extra pep in his step as the secretive weight off his shoulders were lifted. He was finally able to care for you in public, to touch you, hold you, tuck the hair behind your ear and kiss you gently without worrying who would find out, and you the same.

It would be hard, when the video releases, and the audience would see the announcement, but you weren’t worried. As long as he was with you, you wouldn’t be scared.

However, you weren’t sure you’ll ever live down the hickeys.

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amateurmasksmith · 1 month

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You Didn’t Know (Reprise)

(don’t mind me, just got inspired by a shitpost by @onesidedradiostatic (and their Anon) and turned it into angst…)

(also, it looks like @convolutedblasphemy beat me to it - well done btw - but I still wanted to give it a stab!)

Vox (yoinking the proof away): “Gimme that, Alastor, It’s not meant to be seen by you. Let’s move on, everyone, Figure out the best move that should, Improve our chances against the Angels’ threat!”

Alastor teleports behind him and counter-yoinks.

Alastor: “You want me to ignore that? No, not yet.”

Alastor examines the figurine closer, with a morbid fascination.

Lucifer, to Alastor: “It’s not as simple as you think, Not everything’s been spelled in ink.”

Vox lunges at Al angrily, flailing his arms as Alastor easily sidesteps him. Val catches him before he can fall.

Vox: “Leave it, Alastor!”

Valentino: “Careful, Voxy, keep a cool head.”

Vox pushes away from Val, gesturing towards Alastor.

Vox: “No! You never cared, did you?! You left, and it was like you were dead, Al/ /astor! We could’ve just gone our separate ways, but You left me here, with this internal blaze!”

Alastor: “I’m sure you wish it had been so, but there’s a lot that you don’t know!”

Vox: “You left before we could talk it out! Find a way we could still be friendly! But you blew your shot when you dropped off the block, Yeah, I’m so ‘sorry’ for being so petty!”

Alastor pulls Vox into a dance as they sing past each other.

Alastor/Vox: “No more questions to be posed,” / “There’s one question to be posed,” ”I hate you now, case closed” / “Though you are predisposed” “I try to forget that we were forever!” / “Why is this thing worth losing your temper?”

Vox breaks off and walks away, putting distance between them…

Vox: “I made the mistake once, Now I won’t be a chump! Decades of isolation await you,”

Velvette, concerned where this is going: “Vox?”

Vox: “No-one else will think to even date you!”

Alastor: “Wait-”

Vox turns around, realizing what he said.

Vox, who didn’t mean to spill: “Shit.”

Alastor (Aro 404): “What are you saying? Let me get this straight, When you begged me then, Down on your knees…?”

Valentino: “He didn’t know?!”

Velvette: “Whoops! Guess the cat’s out of the bag!

Alastor (through gritted teeth): “Oh, what a reveal!”

Vox: “Wait a sec here, Al, you didn’t know?”

Alastor begins slowly pacing towards Vox.

Alastor: “I thought you were bolder, as our friendship grew older!”

Vox, pained: “No!”

Alastor’s demon form begins to show as he slowly corners Vox.

Alastor: “You have to listen, My life here has just one mission, So it’s lucky I saved you, The anguish it takes to… Do what was required!”

Vox: “To think that I admired you, Al!”

Alastor breaks off, dismissing him with a wave of his hand, and starts walking away.

Alastor: “I don’t need your condescension, It’s not my fault you weren’t direct!”

Vox: “Was our relationship just manipulation? Oh, I was naive to expect you, to care beyond favors you’re repaying!”

Alastor: “Vox, what on earth are you saying? Love is not forever, your programs here are all lies, I’d have thought that seven years would give you enough time! Now I’ll leave you all to handle your foolish little scandal,”

Al gestures to the group, and casually drops the figurine in Lucifer’s hands as he brushes past.

Alastor, to Lucifer: “I’d recommend you stick to sculpting Anatidae.”

Alastor is engulfed by his shadow, and melts into a nearby radio. He emerges at Rosie’s place, ears drooping. The music takes on a softer style.

Alastor: “Rosie, dear, I have a problem.”

Rosie: “For you, Al, I’m all ears! Sit down here!”

Rosie gestures to her couch, on which she sits, and Alastor crumples.

Alastor: “Ugh! Apparently, my old pal Vox, Bought a commission, born from horrid thoughts… I gave him a piece of my mind, he Said ‘we were forever,’ and yet somehow I never…”

Rosie: “Oh. Yes, I see…”

Rosie brings Alastor in for a hug.

Alastor: “Why the fuck / Was I the last to know my old friend had a crush?”

As the music fades out, we see Alastor’s face buried in Rosie’s shoulder, partly obscured… Without a smile.

#onewaybroadcast #aroace alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor

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evanchantingpeters · 4 months

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T(h)rust in me, I’m not over you... (Fanfic - Alex from Adult World)

Pairings ─ Alex (from Adult World) x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff

Summary ─ Y/N and Alex (aka Evan Peters in Adult World) are exes who haven’t quite let go. A friend’s birthday party turns into a comedy of errors when a black-out drunk Y/N accidentally enters Alex’s postcode as her own for a cab ride home. As Alex finds her at his doorstep and takes her in his place, old feelings resurface and steamy times go down in his bathroom.

Warnings ─ Swearing, smut, unprotected sex p in v, drinking, oral (m receiving), rough sex, nipple teasing, hangover sex, doggy, pretty smutty guys you’re being warned :)

Word count ─ 3.7K

18+ > If you’re a minor, DO NOT read!

The birthday cake of your friend, Beatrice, stands proudly in the centre of her living room, decked out in colourful frosting and flickering candles.

You and the rest of the guests belt out the overdone ‘Happy Birthday’ song in what you think is perfect harmony. But here comes Jerry, Beatrice’s younger brother, who starts hollering the lyrics off-key, stealing the show.

Snorting, the birthday girl nudges her brother away, leaning over the cake to blow out the candles. Just as she’s mouthing her wish, Jerry, wearing a wicked grin, swoops in and dips his sister’s face right into the cake.

The room erupts in uproarious laughter as Beatrice’s expression goes from shocked to amused. She taps her cake-covered eyes to remove some chocolate. Then, she turns to Jerry with a look that’s half playful, half ‘I’m plotting revenge.’

“You’re in for it now, Jerry!” she barks. And just like that, an all-out frosting war breaks out, turning the room into a sugar-fuelled battlefield. Cake crumbs are flying in every direction, but you manage to dodge most of it with only a few cake-bulleted stains along the hem of your black dress.

You retreat to a corner of the room, sipping your Prosecco like you’re watching sitcom chaos unfold from afar. Suddenly, you notice a stranger in a fancy tux sauntering over, a sly grin playing on his plump lips.

“Well, looks like you’ve stayed mostly unscathed… or shall I say un-caked?” he chirps, his voice deep and throaty as he nods toward the cake war raging on.

You just shrug, tossing him a faint, uninterested smile, “Good reflexes, I guess,” you quip, giving him a quick once-over before turning back to the cake madness. You feel his dark green eyes scanning you as if you’re going through airport security.

He chuckles, and leans in. “If you need someone to scrub the marks off your dress, I’m your guy,” he whoops, playfully thumping his chest. He extends his hand with an inviting smile. “Tony.”

“Y/N,” you reply bluntly, your energy matching that of a deflated balloon.

Unfazed by your meh vibes, Tony decides to turn up the heat on the handshake, taking you aback as he begins to stroke your wrist. “You’re drop-dead gorgeous,” he purrs, his eyes never leaving yours.

In a bold move, he lightly kisses the back of your hand, his stubble scratching your skin.

You instinctively pull away, trying to force a polite smile, but a nervous twitch is all you manage. Your intrusive thoughts kick in, lecturing you (as usual), ‘Give the guy a chance, Y/N. Seriously, after Alex, all you think about is eye-gouging dudes with a spoon? Get a grip and move on!’

“Enjoying the party, Y/N?” he asks, snapping you out of your mental mess.

“It’s not too bad. I’m here for Beatrice,” you retort, fetching a glass of wine from the buffet. Your eyes drift to the birthday girl, now caked from head to toe and giggling hysterically. You can’t help but crack a smile.

“Sorry, gotta go. Trice’s calling me,” you blurt out and lunge toward your friend, catching a muffled, “No, she didn’t” from behind as you’re practically escaping.

As the night barrels on, your party spirit is like the Energizer Bunny on steroids. You’re all in, downing shots and cocktails like they’re on a liquid clearance sale.

Yet, the question looms in the air: Are you drinking for the sheer fun of it or just drowning sorrows in that cocktail shaker? Alex heartache mode on.

Before you know it, you’re totally sloshed, messily sprawled on a plush couch, using Tanya’s (another friend of yours) knees as your personal pillow. “Iiiiii reeeeally like your boooody, bodyyy, yeah. I reaaaaally wanna get naughtyyyyy I think you’re such a hottieeeee,” you croak out each word of the pop track with a slur, laughing uncontrollably. Your eyes are shut, lost in your boozy world.

As you ramble on, Tony, who’s been lurking around, seizes the moment and leaps out from behind the couch. He casually nudges Tanya’s arm, yelling, “You heard that, Tansy?” with theatrical flair. “She thinks I’m a hottie!” His grin spreads wider than a rubber band as he arrogantly points at himself, acting like he’s the main character of your drunken karaoke.

Tanya clicks her tongue in mild annoyance and cuts in with a hiss, “Tony! Behave, man!” She softly kisses the top of your head in a futile attempt to soothe your booze-induced storm.

“I offered to clean up her dress…” Tony goes on, hovering over the couch. “But, not gonna lie, I’d rather have it crunched up on my bedroom floor as she moans my name,” he murmurs, emphatically banging his fist on the couch before doubling up with laughter.

“Oh, hush it, Tony,” Tanya roars and waves him away, turning back to you and your delirium, which has hit the roof. “I need to get you home, girl, and none of us is fit to drive…”

Tony, not one to give up easily, chimes in once more. “I volunteer! I’d give her a lift all day, all night.”

“No, we’re all catching a cab,” she declares with a tone that brooks no argument. She lightly pokes your shoulder. “Y/N, my love?”

Your tipsy babbling starts to fade into a murmur that seems to be lulling you to sleep. “Y/N,” Tanya repeats. “What’s your postcode, sweetie?”

Your alcohol-soaked brain struggles to register this simple question. “P-postcode? P-o-s-t-d, no. P-p,” you stutter.

“Yes, darling. Confirm your postcode for me, would you? I don’t have it saved,” Tanya says calmly, holding her phone in front of your face.

With a grunt, you manage to sit up, but the world continues to dance spinning salsa around you. With an unsteady hand, you reach for the device, and your fingers fumble as you try to type out the letters and digits.

Deep in your drunken haze, you unconsciously punch in a code that matches anything else but your address.

“To the hottieeeeee,” you shout, throwing your fist in the air before dropping yourself back onto your friend’s knees.

“Ma,am, we’re here,” the taxi driver announces to Tanya that’s sat next to him, his hoarse voice slicing through the quiet of the car.

Tanya swivels around to face the backseats, where you’re laid down, totally passed out. “Y/N,” she calls softly, giving your leg a gentle rub, but you don’t stir.

She hops off the car and speed-walks to your side. With great care, she helps you out by wrapping her hands around you. Your arm is looped around her shoulder for stability. “Biyatchhhh, I saiddd whooo I saeee… who da biyaatch? Am da biyatchh,” you hoot, swaying and leaning heavily on your friend as you pinch her cheek with a goofy smile.

“Y/N, just a sec,” Tanya huffs out as she shoves herself back in to retrieve your purse and coat from the car floor.

You both stumble your way through the labyrinthine apartment complex. “You got your house key?” she asks, catching her breath.

It takes a hot minute for the information to hit as you stare at your friend like a deer in headlights. With an unexpected burst of energy, you break free from Tanya’s hold, almost tripping a few steps away. “My Tanoushka, I'm sho happy you haar!” You cry out and lurch back toward her, showering her with enthusiastic smooches on her cheeks.

Then, in a theatrical whirl, you pop open the purse and jangle your keys in her face. “Jiggly, jiggly. Okiee, goooo, go, go!” you cheer in a wobbly dance, urging Tanya to get back into the car.

With an anxious look on her face, Tanya stands by the open car door. “Alright, phone me once you’re indoors,” she insists, her worried eyes laser-focused on you.

You shoo her away absentmindedly as you stagger toward the complex’s main door. You wrestle with the key, wriggling and twisting it into the lock, but miserably fail to get in the building. “Bad key,” you playfully scold, wagging a finger at the stubborn piece of metal before giving it a light slap.

Soon after, your fingers impulsively begin to clumsily hit the buttons on the intercom, creating a cacophony of buzzing sounds that echo through the entryway. “O-o-o-pen uuup,” your slurred shouting rings through the intercom. “Shtupidd thaang,” you whine, practically bashing the device.

Out of the chorus of tenant voices that crackle through the speaker almost simultaneously, Alex’s familiar voice stands out.

“Y/N? Y/N is that you?” Hearing the shaky and uncertain voice, Alex doesn’t waste a second. He dashes down the stairwell and swings the entrance door wide open, facing a dishevelled Mia, rocking around about to collapse.

“Y/N,” he gasps and sprints to you. “What happened? Why are you here?” His brows furrow in confusion as he observes your smudged makeup and dress that’s askew.

You look up at him with a lopsided smile, your eyes all bloodshot and half-lidded. “Alex, my hottieee. I mishhhsed you so muschh!” you exclaim, your sentences meandering as you lounge at him for a sloppy hug.

“Shit, you’re hammered,” he mutters, worry spurs him into action. With superhero speed, he scoops you up, your butt facing upwards, hands hanging loosely off his back.

Your giggles echo as Alex carries you onto his shoulder with ease, making his way to the lift that leads to his place. In a soft, reassuring whisper, he says, “Don’t worry, baby,” and plants a kiss on your thigh that’s now resting on his chest. “I’ll take care of you,” he adds, giving you a playful spank on the ass.

Once inside, Alex makes a pitstop in the kitchen for a water bottle while you dangle off his shoulder like a ragdoll, humming nonsense. He heads to the bedroom and gently lays you on the bed, making sure your landing is as comfy as a cloud.

Kneeling beside you, he begins to delicately take off your high heels, rubbing your legs along the way. “Who needs a napkin when your dress can double as a tissue, right?” he chuckles softly, tracing the dry cake marks on your outfit, unaware of the sugary fight earlier. “You’ve officially introduced ‘cake couture’ to the fashion world,” he teases, trying to bundle you in a blanket like a burrito.

You slowly lift your head from the pillow, your neck muscles tightening with the effort as you stare at him with bleary yet intent eyes. “I want shyour cakey,” you mewl, wriggling under the blanket on a mission to liberate your hands.

You tug on his hoodie, pulling him closer until he loses his balance and topples onto you. Your bodies press together, and your voice comes out in a pleading whine. “Alex?”

“Yes?” he rasps out, his dark brown eyes flicking down to your lips and then up into your eyes.

“Kiss me,” you mumble and perk up, slowly grazing your lips against his, eyes shut.

The strong scent of alcohol wafts from you, but, in that moment, Alex seems beyond minding. His heart races too erratically to care, and his breaths are too jagged and wild to bother. The room seems to shrink for both of you, and he swallows hard.

“No, Y/N,” he snaps, his voice firm and resolute as he jumps up. “I’d never let this happen... not right now... not with you being like this.” He snatches the water bottle from the bedside table, unscrewing it with a sense of urgency.

Slightly dazed, you touch your lips. “Tickles, tickles, ticklish,” you squeak, breaking into soft giggles. In a sudden and wobbly move, you shift position, popping up on your knees on the bed. “Huggies,” you whoop facing him, arms wide open for an embrace.

But, just as quickly, your mood takes a detour, and now you’re wincing, yanking at the fabric of your outfit in frustration, “This dresshh is prison, tightiee,” you grunt, hiking your dress up only to reveal your red panties.

His eyes can’t help but stare down there as he rubs the back of his neck almost compulsively, his breath hitching in his throat. At the sight of you half-naked, the dilemma of whether to give in or resist intensifies, swirling in his mind on end.

“Hold up, I don’t want you catching a cold or something. I’ve got a top you can slip into,” he says, puffing out his words while pacing toward his wardrobe to avoid looking at her.

“Heeey,” you yell with an unexpectedly stern tone that catches him off guard. But, just as swiftly, your face softens into a sweet, almost kiddish smile that instantly cools things off.

You wave Alex over, beckoning him to approach. “Come, come, comeyyy,” you coo.

You perch next to him again, still rocking that mischievous smile. “It’s a secret, tiny winnie one,” you whisper-shout, pinching your index finger and thumb near your face, closing one eye for added drama. “Just between you and me,” you poke as you emphasise ‘me.’

Alex nods as his grin stretches from ear to ear. “Okay…” he chuckles, officially joining your light-hearted moment.

“Shhhhh,” you dramatically hush, squishing your index finger against your lips like you’re sharing classified intel. “Secret-t-t-t.”

Alex snorts. His rolls his lips into his mouth as he lowers his head to hold back a laugh. “My bad, my bad. Go on,” he whispers with exaggerated enthusiasm. He’s clearly having a blast with your goofy antics.

“Don’t tell Alex… Neva eva!”

“I won’t, I won’t,” he assures you, theatrically raising his finger for a pinky promise.

You take an unusually long moment to process his gesture and what it represents. A sober person would never… Eventually, you sloth-slowly glance back at him, nonchalantly deciding to give up on the symbolism behind the lifted pinky finger. “He’s the kindestsht… and p-p-prettiest boy I’ve eeeeever met,” you exclaim. Your fingers—guided by intoxicated conviction—clumsily roam over his face, stretching his nostril and trailing down to his bottom lip.

Your drunken self radiates an innocent sincerity that makes Alex’s heart throb like a hammer. Flattered and charmed by your confession, he gazes at you bashfully.

His warm smile broadens as he keeps on staring and admiring you.

“He’s shhhuper,” you squeal, forming a heart shape with your fingers, peeking at him through it. “Do youse… hic… I should gimme… no… not me… him, give HIM head to say thank yew for treatin' spoooooon good?”

Alex can’t help but crack up, though his cheeks turn rosy—a testament to his shy nature. He cups his chin and narrows his eyes mischievously, like he’s in deep thought. “Hmm, if we’re talking about Alex, your ex...I think you should give him head, BUT,” he exclaims, throwing a finger into the air.

You gasp, playfully covering your mouth like you’ve heard the most shocking news. Your eyes bulge with feigned surprise. “Beyond all,” he argues, “I think you should totally get back together. He thinks you broke up for something very silly, and he’s dying to be with you.”

You abruptly jerk away from him, gagging as if you’re about to throw up. You feel the blood draining from your face as a wave of distress washes over you.

Alex’s eyes widen with concern as he instinctively rises from the bed, “Off we go to the bathroom,” he insists, rushing to follow you.

Your nausea takes a sudden turn, and you can’t hold back any longer. Barely making it to the toilet in time, you let it all out. Your body heaves with each retch, and you feel miserable.

Alex, the unsung hero, drops to his knees and chucks the water bottle on the floor. He gently pulls your hair back, creating a makeshift puke-proof barrier. All the while, he rubs your back to make the whole ordeal less horrible.

Then, he’s quick on his feet, grabbing some toilet paper for the post-barf clean-up. As you dab your lips, he hands you the bottle to rinse. “I’m disgustiiing, don’t look,” you grumble, shooing him away as you spit water in the toilet before flushing.

“You’re still a wonder to my eyes,” he whispers, running a hand through your loose hair. “And the timing—you puke just as I suggest we get back together, Y/N” he mocks, adding a sprinkle of humour to the less-than-glamorous moment.

You groan and let your head flop onto the toilet seat. “Ahhh, my moussth feels weird… bruushh,” you mumble, rubbing your lips.

Alex lifts you up, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bathtub. “Not brushing yet, baby. We’re swishing with some hydrogen peroxide and water to protect the enamel,” he instructs you, preparing the said concoction in a small measuring cup next to you. “Here you go, wash off.”

“Shhh, you’re a niiieeerd,” you whine after spitting the liquid, feeling it sting your tongue. Giggling, you yank at Alex’s hoodie and playfully sway him back and forth, your minty breath fanning his face.

Then, you suddenly stop and fix him right in the eye. “Aleeex?” you whimper, lips pouting.

“Yes, Y/N,” he asks calmly, sweeping a few strands of hair off your face as a half smirk curls up his lips. He enjoys the banter that weaves through your drunken fog.

“Fuck me,” you plead, fiddling with the buckle of his belt.

Alex’s pulse quickened for a second, held in an irregular rhythm. All the while, your fingertips caress his lower stomach, trying to slip through his trousers and onto his boxers.

You let go when he clears his throat loudly, a deliberate attempt to regain composure. Breathing heavily, he manages a tight-lipped as he strokes your head, tenderly placing it on his shoulder.

“Ohhh, I knoooow,” your exclaim and sit up, your index finger playfully pressing against your mouth. “I willshh brush me an’ you fuck me.”

Forty minutes later, you’re done with her hardcore toothbrushing session, complete with a few rounds of gargling mouthwash. Alex hands you a towel with a warm smile. You’re still wobbly but muster a grateful grin.

“Thaaank, yew rock,” you slur, clumsily patting your face dry.

Alex chuckles, “Better?”

You hum, nodding, but your bleary eyes suddenly light up mischievously. Out of impulse, you slide into the tub, turning the water knob. You start splashing around, water welling up everywhere as you laugh uncontrollably. Alex, caught in the aquatic crossfire, shields himself with his hands.

“What’s the goal? Turning this into a water park?” he jokes, still trying to dodge the watery onslaught. But you’re having none of it. You grip his arm and drag him into the splash party.

Soon, you’re both a wet, tangled mess, laughing like loons, lost in the bliss of the moment. As water skims through the contours of your bodies, there’s a switch in the atmosphere. Amidst the fun chaos, your eyes meet inches away from each other, and the laughter mellows into a shared silence.

Before you realise it, your lips crash in a spontaneous kiss. You spread your legs, letting him wade through and tower over you. Soft moans escape him, and the vibrations against your mouth send delightful shivers down your backbone. You know that’s not just a collision of flesh; it transcends into a harmonious blend of passion and connection.

“I want you, Alex,” you sigh with newfound clarity, miraculously not stumbling over your words in an intoxicating joy for the first time tonight. You push the back of his head to deepen the kiss, your tongues now twisting and twirling in a sensual waltz.

He hungrily gropes handfuls of your body, leaving open-mouthed kisses across the crook of your neck.

“Y/N.. no... stop it,” he protests when your hand ventures down his trousers, rubbing along his growing bulge. Your quivering breaths mingle as he breaks the kiss. Skillfully, he turns off the water as he steps out of the tub. “It’s the alcohol talking now, not you.”

You frown, clutching on the edges of the tub for balance. “The alcohol has shut up; I speak now,” you groan as you stand on your feet. Your drenched dress clings to your body, outlining your figure. Feeling the weight of the soaked fabric, you decide to free yourself from it.

You strip down to your panties, and your soft, pink nipples rise like rosebuds in bloom, betraying a quiet anticipation. Alex sucks in a sharp breath as he watches your every move all mesmerised, eyes widening, lips parted.

“Ever seen someone redefine the art of walking a tightrope?” you chirp, water dripping down your half-naked body. Sinking to your knees, you get on all fours and slowly begin to crawl to him.

You sway your hips in a sensuous, almost hypnotic rhythm, eyes fixed on Alex. All the while, you trace a perfectly straight line to him, proving your recovered sobriety.

Arriving at his pelvic level, you gracefully sit back on your heels with a coy smile, maintaining eye contact. “See?” you whisper, tilting your head as your eyes travel down at his erection. You don’t dare to touch; you just marvel at his full length (realistically speaking).

Staring down at you with a knowing, crooked smirk, he runs his fingers through your damp hair, tenderly petting your head.

“Someone’s suffering here. Let’s free this big boy, shall we?” you purr, brushing your fingers along his hard rock crotch, feeling it twitch upon touch.

He quickly nods in despair as if he’s unable to utter a single syllable. You slowly roll down his trousers and boxers. He gasps as you finally take hold of his large shaft.

You push his tip in your mouth, flattening your tongue, and swipe down the underside ridge of his stiff dick, humming in delight. He groans louder than you expected as you slowly work his cock in and out, grazing your fingers over the ridges of his abs under his t-shirt.

You pull him back out of your mouth just to slide all the way back down. He’s practically growling at this point, clasping onto the corners of the sink—his vein-y arms make your sex twice as moist.

You regain your slow, teasing pace just to gauge his reaction. Letting out a whine like he can’t take it anymore, he grips your hair tighter, pushing you all the way down his dick. His head is now building on pressure as it strikes the back of your throat, bringing tears to your eyes. His hair grip loosens as his breaths start escaping him in choked, punchy gasps.

You’re sucking him whole, from his taint down to his balls, dripping your saliva all over him the harder you draw him into your mouth. Your swollen pussy is tingling for him as you feel him hardening in your mouth, forcing loud moans out of you.

Knowing that your next move will finish him, you slow down again and grab him by the waist, gazing up at him. That’s when you begin to take him in faster and rougher, feeling his hips thrust harder each time.

And… proven! With the change in speed, he lets out a series of choppy moans only to shoot his hot cum in your mouth right after. He stares down at you breathless, mouth agape, as you gulp down his sweet taste with rapid, eager swallows, savouring his taste with a giggle.

“My girl,” he rasps out as he picks you up from the floor effortlessly yet almost in a trance, his dick still throbbing in your hands. He peels his t-shirt off, turning you around so you both face the large bathroom mirror.

Positioned behind you, he holds you close and smacks your ass hard, making you squeal with surprise. The squeal soon turns into a moan as the pain fades into pleasure.

You smile slyly as you observe his muscular hands travelling from your hips all the way up to your waistline and tits. You gasp softly when you feel his erection on your back as his mouth nibbles the flushed skin of your neck, leaving soft love bites in his wake.

“I want you to cum inside me, Alex” you blurt out and take hold of his shaft from behind, slowly sliding the head though your tight moist slit in short thrusts.

“Oh, yeah,” he grunts, biting his bottom lip as he feels your wet lips wrap around him. He instantly fills his hands with your hard nipples, squeezing and rubbing them as he looks at your reflection. “Anything for you, Y/N,” he mutters against your ear in a low, husky voice before knocking himself deep inside you, balls deep, making you scream. His hands roughly grip your thighs to keep you steady and close to him.

Small sobs leave you as you instinctively grab the ends of the sink, bending over to cope with taking him deeper. “Just there,” you yelp, panting, as he starts pounding harder, your hair twisted around his hand. With each thrust, his sack slaps against your clit, making you lose your shit.

Every time your pussy gets to the base of his cock, you pump into him with an intense tempo and move your hips around, making his cock swirl inside your body.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you cry out with shallow, jagged puffs, rising and resting your head on his shoulder.

He pinches your nipples between his knuckles with one hand while with the other, he starts massaging your clit with circular motions.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper in pure ecstasy as a hot flush courses through you, your cunt aching and begging to release.

“You take in me so well, baby. Give it to me,” he groans, his voice a throaty sensual rasp that makes you shudder.

“Yeees,” you scream, writhing and grinding against him until you feel warm liquid dripping down your legs.

He keeps riding your orgasm out with you, fucking the liquids in back until he hits his own high. And then it happens—his cum gushing inside you, stuffing you up.

Out of breath, Alex pulls himself out of you, watching his cum leak out. He lazily grins at you, his curls sticking to his head, and you tuck them all back with trembling hands, giggling.

“This pussy and her owner over here will be the death of me,” he chuckles, gasping for air as he pulls you in for a sloppy, heated kiss.

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disturbedbeautywrites · 1 year

Note

ooh for the touch starved prompts, I would love "hesitantly tugging the other's fabric of their shirt or sleeve" with Rafe please :)

Stay, please - Rafe Cameron Imagine

A/N: still fangirling that you trusted me to write this. Not gonna lie, I was shaking as I was writing it so I hope you like it!

“I want to take you out on a date, what do you say?” It has been 3 months since you had heard those words leave Rafe Cameron’s mouth when he was sitting at one of the tables you were serving at the country club. You thought he was joking at first, surely figuring his friends had set him up and this was just a prank.

You didn’t give him a definite answer, you just pretended to have to go to the kitchen to deal with another customer. But, when it was time for Rafe and his table to leave, he hung around for a second until you walked back over. “Come on, just one date. Then you can never talk to me again.” His smile was infectious as you thought about it before nodding, earning a whoop from the boy. You laughed and exchanged numbers, talking nonstop after that.

He wasn’t what you expected, that was for sure. After that first date, you kept saying yes to more dates until the two of you were officially dating. You were now considered the new kook princess and you fit right in with all of your boyfriends friends.

Now, the two of you were practically attached at the hip. One was never far from the other and everyone thought it was adorable. Rafe was so clearly infatuated with you and you with him, it made him a whole different person. He was no longer doing drugs or trying to prove things to his dad. He had your approval and that’s all that mattered.

“When do you have to go to work?” His words were soft as you laid on his chest, his finger tips softly brushing against your spine. You let out a content sigh against his naked skin, your wrist lifting up to show the time. “I have to get ready in a few minutes.” Your voice was muffled as you buried your head into him again, your breath fanning against him.

“What if you called in?” His voice was serious as he looked down at you, your eyes raising to meet his. You figured he was kidding, but his face was dead serious. You sat up on your elbows, fingertips brushing against his cheek as you took in his every feature. “I wish I could.” Your voice was soft as your alarm on your phone went off, signaling it was time to get up.

Both of you let out a soft groan as you untangled yourself from him and slipped his hoodie on over your head. You fixed your hair and looked down at him, his hands coming up to tug on the fabric sleeve of his favorite hoodie. He gave one good tug and smirked as you stumbled towards the bed and into his arms, wrapping you up again. “Listen, I love you, and I will take care of everything if you call in today.” His words were sweet and your eyes widened as you heard him say he loved you. You had never said it to each other before.

You sat there, wide eyed for a second as your brain registered the words. “Y-you love me?” You laid on his chest again, looking up at him as he nodded and smiled. “I do, pretty girl. I love you a lot.” He leaned down to brush his lips over yours, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek in his palm. “Now, I also think you should stay home with me.” His other hand ran down to your exposed waist, fingers massaging the flesh there.

You gulped and nodded, your lips attaching to his. “I love you a lot too, Rafe. But, I gotta call in since you don’t want me to go.” You pushed off of him briefly and laughed as he frowned at you, your phone dialing the number to your work as you walked into the bathroom to fake being sick. “Hurry up! I miss you already!”

#rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #obx x y/n #obx x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #rafe cameron fluff #obx x you #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron one shot

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chaoticbardlady99 · 5 months

Text

She's My Religion (Part 1: She's Cold, She's Dark, She's Cynical) Astarion x F! Reader

Hello! I have been plagued with an idea! Enjoy! This will probably be a four part story, but I am not sure just yet!

Title from song “She’s My Religion” by Pale Waves

CW: Parental death, grief, murder, domestic violence, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of emotional abuse.

Synopsis- You are a paladin under the Oath of Vengeance. You escaped the noble life that was unwillingly thrust upon you. Now, on your way to kill your evil step-father while trying to find a solution for the parasite in your head- you find out he’s promised your hand in marriage to Lord Cazador Szarr and that he’s taken your mom’s life. Looking for some comfort- you go to Astarion, but you don’t hear the words you were hoping for.

*Gif does not belong to me- could not find original owner

Karlach whoops and cheers as she releases you from a rib crushing hug- Wyll and Gale are grinning from ear to ear. You are all elated for her that Dammon was able to figure out how to cool down her engine- even if temporarily.

You know that she doesn’t want to hear about the future and the harm not going back to Avernus will cause so you don’t say anything while Wyll tries to lecture her. You are barely listening as the two of them go back and forth, but when Wyll glances back at you with a look that screams, “Can you please help me out over here?”

You chuckle at your close friend’s distress and shake your head at him. Wyll adores Karlach- you know he would give her his own heart if he could. He just needs to let her come to her own decision- you’d like to think that Karlach might decide to go back until they can come up with a permanent solution. However, at the end of the day, it’s Karlach’s decision. You are just as unhappy with the impending doom your bubbly companion is facing, but that is not your weight to carry.

“Unfortunately Wyll, I am going to support whatever Karlach wants to do for as long as I can emotionally tolerate it,” you give Karlach a playful punch in the arm, “you’re not allowed to die on me, ya know?”

Karlach rolls her eyes and smiles- pulling you in for an awkward walking side hug.

“Don’t worry Soldier- I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

You all begin to head back to camp from Last Light Inn when Jaheira calls you from afar, waving you over. You look at your companions and they look back at you- equally as confused. You tell them that you will catch up with them in a little bit and they leave you there alone. Cautiously, you walk towards her- she did just threaten to kill you not even 72 hours ago and what an eventful 72 hours it has been.

You killed a devil, almost died killing that Devil, found out Astarion’s life is in far more danger than initially thought, watched Astarion convince a weird man to drink himself to death, watched an even weirder man be inhabited by a dead lady, fought shadows, and now, Karlach can hug people.

Life could not be any weirder, but you gladly welcome it over the mansion you had been trapped in after your mother married your step-father. The day you escaped from there had been bliss- despite how much you miss your mother. Your mother had been of noble human blood before she met your father (an elf). After one late night tryst and falling pregnant, her title had fallen significantly. She married your father and you had all lived happily together in Baldur’s Gate. You grew up poor, but Duke Ravenguard always tried to make sure you and your family had been taken care of. You grew up with Wyll Ravenguard and you have been tight knit friends almost your whole lives.

Until you were 14.

Count Bridril Von, a high Sorcerer, had not forgotten your mother nor her breaking her promise to marry him by becoming pregnant by another. After your father died, he found your mother and enchanted her to become a mindless puppet. She would break occasionally, but ultimately you were left to fend for yourself against your 9 step-siblings (5 girls, 4 boys) and Bridril Von- who enjoyed taking out all his anger and hatred for your father on you. The only times he would claim you as one of his own would be when you had competed in various competitions and won- outranking his sons. The publicity he got from having a little sharp shooter and for “raising his darling step-daughter after she so horribly lost her hero father” was incredible. You became a show pony- a pretty, malleable little thing that was forced to perform and excel so that she could be treated with basic respect.

The minute you were able to escape the Mansion from the Hells, you ran to the docks, bought a ticket to Silverymoon, took an Oath of Vengeance, and now you are here with an illithid parasite in your head. At first you had thought you were the unluckiest person in the world when you were kidnapped by a mind flayer, but your companions have quickly made the whole journey worthwhile- Astarion especially.

You had met him before in your previous life as a troublemaking bastard and you had had conversations before- nothing too crazy nor serious, just quips and flirting back and forth. Astarion had been at the mansion frequently or you at the palace because your oldest step-sister, Daisy Von, is (was?) due to marry Lord Cazador Szarr. It was no secret to anyone, not even Daisy, that Cazador wants to marry you due to your likeness of a long lost love of his, but you are not of royal blood. Cazador would lose his alliance with Bridril if he married his boorish, rebellious, and unwanted step-daughter- despite your many achievements. You were grateful. You didn’t want to marry the man and Daisy was foolishly smitten- she could have him for all you care. That was your mentality before you knew he was a Master Vampire.

Your family and Astarion’s ‘family’ spent a lot of time together. Astarion had become your escort around the palace grounds because Bridril did not want you to take the spotlight away from Daisy.

Originally, it had been Pale Petras, but you had unceremoniously kicked him in the balls after he had said something rather unbecoming towards you and had to be physically dragged away by Leon before he tried to kill you or worse. Astarion had immediately taken a liking to you for that alone.

When you had stumbled upon each other at the beach after the Nautiloid crash, it had been a little over two years since you had last seen each other. Without the watchful eyes of Cazador, your friendship and romantic relationship has blossomed.

You had been weary at first, worried that he was just getting close to you because he knew how much it would piss off Cazador if Astarion were to be with the one person Cazador could not have. Now, you are about 95 percent sure that isn’t the case, but you remain alert- just in case.

You are used to being used for an upperhand in the world and you hope everyday that you are more than an advantage against Cazador to him because he truly means everything to you.

Which is maybe why you are quite agitated with Jaheira taking precious minutes away from you that could be spent with your love. You offer her a smile as she holds out a letter.

“A letter? For me? Oh Jaheira, you shouldn’t have!”

Jaheira hides her amusement behind a scowl, “it came through here magically. Rolan was able to calm down the little portal it came flying through- I suggest waiting until you reach Baldur’s Gate to be sending and receiving mail.”

You apologize and walk towards camp, opening and reading the contents in the letter. The letter rips open your entire body and it feels like the ground is going to cave in. You read and reread the letter multiple times- standing between the edge of Last Light Inn and the edge of Camp, not even 5 feet away.

Tav,

My name is Mary, I was your mother’s lady in waiting. You were always so busy that we never got the opportunity to meet. I am sorry to tell you that I only have bad news.

The Count had received an offer from Lord Cazador Szarr two weeks ago regarding marrying you that he is not going to refuse- initially he was, but then you continued to not come home and he became bitter.

Cazador expressed urgency regarding getting you back to Baldur’s Gate. Bridril has hired mercenaries to hunt for you.

Bridril killed your mother- the whispers in the castle say it was not an easy or quick death. My understanding is that you took an Oath of Vengeance so I hope Bridril is on your list. Your mother was the kindest woman I have ever had the privilege of meeting.

I know she would want you to know that she loves you, is proud of you, is watching out for you, and knows you are off to do great things.

Keep vigilant and may Selune bless your path.

-Mary

No. This isn't happening to you. You are only days- maybe even a week or two away from going back home, killing Bridril, and freeing your mother. You were going to be a family again. You wanted to introduce her to your companions and buy a nice little home to live in with her like you used to when you were little. You were going to tell her all about your adventures, your time on the Pirate ship that took you to Silverymoon, your life there as a Paladin, and his whole fucking excursion.

She’s gone and the wail that threatens to crack open your chest is suffocating. You quickly walk to Astarion’s tent, where you have been sleeping most nights, and he’s not there. Of all the times you really need him to not be doing anything and yet! You shove the letter back in the envelope and absentmindedly throw it to another part of the tent- not looking and not caring. Your grief feels like it may kill you and you just need to be held- to know and feel like you aren’t completely alone in the world right now.

After a brief chat with Halsin, you discover Astarion is hanging out with Shadowheart behind her tent. You make haste that way- hoping they won’t be too mad that you are interrupting their wine and gossip time. You had gotten back earlier than anticipated and in other circumstances you might wait until he is done, but you aren’t in your right mind.

You approach the tent and hear them talking on the other side, facing the forest, and sitting on a log. The tears begin to manifest in your eyes as relief floods you- you are so close to feeling okay again.

“How bloody hard is it to nicely, lovingly tell someone that you’ve been deceiving them this whole time?”

You stop dead in your tracks.

No.

“Look, there is no good way to say it,” Shadowheart says, “you just need to own up to it and then be honest about all of it.”

“Oh yes because ‘I planned on seducing you, sleeping with you, and manipulating you from the start’ is such a great opener,” Astarion scoffs, “there has to be some other way to make it flow with the rest of it. A better way to tell her.”

“No need,” you speak up miserably, coming around the corner, “you just did. Wasn’t that hard was it?”

Astarion and Shadowheart look absolutely shell shocked to see you standing there. Astarion looks like he’s about to throw up as he gets up and looks at you softly, a pleading, panicked look in his eyes.

“Darling!” he says, getting up, laughing nervously“you’re back early. I- can we-”

“Whatever we are,” you say with a glare, tears now pouring and with as much hatred in your voice as you can muster, “or whatever you were pretending I was to you- it’s over.”

Astarion’s entire face falls while he’s staring at you and he looks like he might cry, he opens his mouth, “Darling, pl-”

Shadowheart looks like she is about to speak up for him too, but you are far too angry, far too hurt- far too lonely right now in the world to let yourself be tricked into staying with him. They are best friends, she’s probably in on it too.

“No! I hate you so much!,” the venom in your voice being watered down by your anguish, “I hate you more than I thought I could ever hate anyone- undead, dead, or alive! I trusted you and you used me for your own gain- so unkindly, go fuck yourself!”

You spin around on your heels, race over to your tent, and tie the flaps tightly shut. You slump to the ground and just sob- grabbing your mother’s old blanket that you had stolen before you left. You scream into it silently and all the pain in your body is threatening to make you burst apart at the seams. You wouldn’t be surprised if you did.

In less than an hour you have lost your mother, Astarion, and potentially your freedom. Astarion had used you to get one up on Cazador and he succeeded. Now that he knows what Cazador’s ritual is- he’s decided he’s done with you and every step you make has to be done cautiously because one slip up and you are going to be the consort to a fucking Master Vampire after fighting to avoid this for so long. All because Astarion just had to poke the bear.

Astarion signed your fate using your blood as ink.

Your throat is raw and your head is pounding by the time your lungs feel like they know how to properly breathe again. You hear someone knock on one of the wooden beams of your tent and you scoff.

“It’s just me Tav,” Wyll says softly, “can I come in.”

You get up and untie the tent flaps numbly. You look at Wyll, eyes puffy and red- your face streaked with tears. As Wyll walks into your tent, you get a glimpse of Astarion looking crestfallen as you invite Wyll in. You just scrunch your nose up in disgust at him before closing your tent.

Wyll is sitting down on your bedroll and you sit down right next to him- both of you looking at the ground. Wyll gently puts his hand on top of yours and smiles at you with his signature gentle, I’m here, grin.

“My mom’s dead, Wyll.”

“What?”

“Bridril killed her. She had snapped out of whatever hold he had on her when he agreed to marry me off to Cazador,” you choke out between sobs, “he killed her for trying to protect me. Now? I am officially going to be married off to a Master Vampire the minute I step foot in Baldur’s Gate if Bridril has his way.”

“Oh Tav…”

“And then! To make matters even worse?,” you look at him with disbelief and your voice sounds borderline hysterical now, “I overheard Astarion and Shadowheart prepping his ‘I’ve been using you this whole time and I’m ready to break-up’ speech. He was trying to figure out how to be nice about it.”

Wyll stares at you with bewilderment. He is absolutely silent as you break down sobbing again, but he pulls you into him and you put your head on his shoulder.

“I fe-feel so alone,” you manage to say coherently, “and so frightened.”

“I know you do my dear friend,” Wyll strokes your hair as make a mess of his shirt, “but you have Karlach, Gale, Lae’zel, Halsin, Scratch, and even an Owlbear Cub for Gods sake!”

You smile at the emphasis on your rather dangerous furry friend. Wyll had asked what you were going to do with him when you got back to Baldur’s Gate and when you didn’t have a plan- both of you were a little horrified. You both decided to send it to Daisy as an engagement present once it’s big enough to stomp on Cazador and Daisy mid-wedding.

“And besides,” Wyll says, “you’re my closest friend. I won’t allow you to be alone nor face this alone. I’m probably the best monster hunter you know.”

“You are also the only monster hunter I know.”

Wyll rolls his eyes and smiles brightly at you, “That’s besides the point, but I am going to let you sleep. You look like you need it.”

Wyll places a soft kiss on your forehead before he leaves your tent.

“Thank you Wyll.”

He turns around and smiles, “Any time Tav.”

_________________________________________________

Tag-list: @spacebarbarianweird @domainoflostsouls

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 spoilers #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion romance #bg3 #karlach #astarion x f! reader #astarion acunin #baldurs gate #bg3 tav

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ronearoundblindly · 3 months

Note

17 with Jake

25 with ransom

-👜

Jake Jensen x ops!reader: a kiss to distract. (Ransom will be posted separately.)

No warnings except Jake is a dumbass... Cute divider by @cafekitsune and I hope you enjoy! This is one of my Valentine's Fics for 2024. (Ransom will be in a separate post, btw.) WC 738

"Under no circumstances are you to zipline that damn thing, Jensen. You hear me?” Clay bellows over your comms. The whole squad can hear their friend’s stupid thoughts from hundreds of yards away.

Jake simply bounces his shoulders next to you on the skyscraper roof, an awkward grimace stretched across his face instead of a smile.

The cool, intense winds this high up swirl around while you watch your targets become smaller and smaller, taking the only hardware down the wire with them.

You and Jake burst through the access door, raced over to grasp at the jumpers, and missed by mere inches.

So your partner thinks on his feet. It’s very dangerous.

"Yeah, well, I don't see you guys having a better idea."

Your disbelief is palpable, as you loudly mutter, "permission to shoot him, boss?"

Then there's an explosion of noise in your ear.

"GODDAMNIT, JUST DON’T—“ "You idiot!" "Ten bucks says he goes splat.”

"No one bets on Pancake Jensen, okay?" You flash the bird toward the other rooftop where Cougar watches through binoculars.

Pooch scoffs. "Noob's no fun."

Jake is already ripping his belt from his jeans to use as a trolley.

Roque sighs. It’s so characteristic, he doesn’t even have to speak.

“Maybe no bets," Cougar chuckles, "but he's already playing strip poker."

"Jake, stop." You have to grip his hands to get his attention.

He's squinting at you in disbelief. "But they're getting away..."

"Yeah, and once they reach the bottom, that line'll get cut while you're still on it." He shifts so you have to step in front of him again and push at his t-shirt clad chest. "You cannot stick that landing."

"No hero landing?" Jake frowns.

You shake your head.

The group starts to throw out other options over the channel, and while you pay attention to that, your gaze wanders back to Cougar’s perch.

Jake sneaks past your grasp.

It’s only when the lookout starts shouting “woah, woah, woah,” that you realize Jensen’s about to toss the doubled-up leather of his belt over the wire, and you just…run.

You use your whole bodyweight to spin him. You push off the balls of your feet to reach level. Remarkably, you make it, your lips landing dead-center on his mouth parted in shock.

You did not, however, have time to calculate the ledge right behind Jake’s thighs.

He panics when he hits concrete and lurches forward, arms wrapping around you with an instinct to not die. Where was that consideration thirty seconds ago?

He holds on while stumbling, though, and by a few seconds in, you know he absolutely could have pulled away, if he wanted to, by now.

“Uh…”

Jake slides his big hands up to cup your face, lean further in, moving his head to the other side and licking the seam of your lips.

You weren’t expecting that.

Jensen always gripes about his awkwardness and lack of experience, but this is not amateur tongue action and definitely not detached. You can sense some real emotion in the dig of his fingers behind your ears, muffling your comms for who knows how long until one shift has your forehead smearing across his glasses.

“Sorry,” you blurt, breaking the kiss.

He lets go of your face just in time for you to see the thick wire snapping back toward the rooftop.

You grab Jake’s t-shirt in both fists and fling the pair of you to the ground.

“If you doofuses are alive,” Clay grumbles. “you better be halfway to the lobby.”

There’s a long, anguished sigh before Cougar adds, “and I just lost fifty bucks.”

Pooch whoops joyously.

“Hell yeah, I won the pot, didn’t I? Get it, Jensen. You’re my boy. I knew you could do it.”

Jake waits for the snaking wire to stop moving and nervously licks his bottom lip. “Right. No hero landing.” He squints at you again before popping up from the gravel, cleaning his lenses and inching toward the stairwell with wildly incoherent, stunted hand gestures. “We should…if you’re good…render-vous.”

On your elbows, you realize a talk with Jensen about this is not going to be pleasant. He’ll probably make you do all the talking and deny there was anything there between you. Maybe he is too awkward for his own good?

You reach past your feet toward the ledge, waving your find in the air.

“Don’t forget your belt.”

Bucky Barnes and a kiss, casually ⬅️ ➡️ Johnny Storm and a kiss in relief

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @peyton--warren

#jake jensen fanfiction #jake jensen x reader #jake jensen x you #jake jensen x y/n #valentine's day fanfic #ro answers #jake jensen fluff #valentine's day prompts

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ladykailitha · 1 year

Text

Little Runaway Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Wayne walked into the sheriff’s station the next morning, coffee in hand.

“Hey, Hop!” Wayne greeted cheerily.

Hopper stood up and gave Wayne a hug. “Hey, Munson, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” He eyed the coffee in Wayne’s hand. “That coffee for me?”

Wayne handed it over. Hopper took a long sip and sighed happily.

“The coffee here is no better than mud most days,” he grumbled.

Wayne sat down and nodded to the picture on Hopper’s desk. “That the Harrington kid?”

Hopper sighed again, this time more resigned. “Yeah. No one’s seen him in a week and Clint is breathing down my neck to find him. Only he’s a grown man now and can do whatever the hell he wants.”

“Bit strange him not telling any of his friends where he went, though,” Wayne said.

Hopper groaned. “I know. I’m worried about him, too. And with Harrington breathing down my neck, it almost feels like he’s done something to him.”

Wayne jutted his chin at the styrofoam cup in Hopper’s hand. Hopper frowned and slowly turned it around.

“Oh.”

“You know, I was thinking it’s been a while since I beat your ass at chess,” Wayne said, deadpan. “Why don’t you come over after your shift, I’ll make dinner, we can have a few beers and I can whoop your ass.”

Hopper downed the rest of his cup and crushed in his fist. “Sure thing, Wayne. I’m off at four.”

Wayne stood up and waved goodbye.

Hopper made sure the cup was properly disposed of. Didn’t want to liter, after all.

Hopper pulled into the trailer park sometime after five and Wayne came out to greet him.

“Eddie’s almost done with the burgers,” he said. “Let’s get set up and he’ll bring out the food.”

Hopper led the way to the tables, Wayne following behind, chessboard in hand.

But when they got to the table Hopper stopped dead in his tracks. There sat a badly bruised Steve Harrington, looking down at his hands as if he was expecting another beating.

Hopper went over and knelt in front of Steve, gently tilting his back so Hopper could see the damage. He whistled long and low.

“Your daddy do that you, son?” he asked as gentle as his touch.

Steve nodded.

“You break his nose for the trouble?” Hopper asked.

Steve nodded again.

“Good. Now you tell me everything.”

Wayne set up the chessboard and Steve started talking. Everything just tumbling out about the years upon years of abuse.

Hopper listened, but kept his eyes on the board in front of him so that it was easier for Steve to talk. As if he was talking to himself instead of someone who had the ability to make his life hell.

When Steve was done he looked over at the board and cocked his head.

“He’s got you dead to rights in three moves, Sheriff,” he murmured.

Hopper looked at the board then back up at Steve. “How do you know that?”

“I’m really good at pattern recognition,” Steve said with a shrug, “and the pattern on that board says Wayne is about to kick your ass.”

Hopper looked down at the chess board and cursed, Wayne laughed.

“Better you than me, Stevie,” Eddie said, holding two plates of burgers.

Wayne smiled at his nephew. “Eddie here is more left brained, creative. I don’t mind him not being able to play.”

Eddie smiled softly as he set down the food.

Wayne stood up. “Here let me help you get the buns and condiments.”

Eddie looked over at Steve concerned.

Wayne clapped him on the shoulder. “He’ll be fine. Come on.”

Eddie let his uncle lead him away, but he looked back over his shoulder at Steve.

Once they were gone, Hopper turned to Steve. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a knight in shining armor.”

Steve frowned. “Who? Eddie? I don’t think he likes me much.”

Hopper chuckled. “Don’t think that’s true.”

Steve just shook his head.

“So that’s quite a story you just told,” Hopper said after a moment.

“You don’t believe me?” Steve asked, his voice wobbling. He had trusted Wayne to bring the sheriff in and now he was just going to be handed over to his dad on a silver plate. He started to breathe heavily.

Hopper leapt over the table and grabbed both of Steve’s hands. “Hey, hey!”

Steve looked at him, his eyes wide with terror.

“I didn’t say I didn’t believe you,” Hopper said softly. “It came out wrong. I’m sorry.”

Steve nodded, tears starting to form.

“The problem is kid is that your daddy is holding all the cards right now,” Hopper said. “We need some kind of proof he did it.”

Steve nodded. “Would pictures of me after the fight help?”

Hopper looked at him appraisingly. “I guess that depends on what’s in the pictures.”

Steve pulled out the photos from his back pocket. All of them were Polaroids of him in various forms of posing for the camera showing off all the bruises on his back, sides, and face.

Hopper looked at one in particular with a grin. “That dumbass didn’t take off his ring to hit you.”

Steve frowned. “He never does, why?”

Hopper turned to him and his grin got bigger. “That’s a rookie mistake. You see you’re daddy’s ring is unique. One of a kind.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “So this is evidence that he beat me?”

“Yup,” Hopper said. “And even if he claims you hit first breaking his nose, this is beyond self defense. This is rage.”

“I’ll be safe?” Steve asked, not quite daring to hope.

“I’ll make sure of it,” Hopper said. He put the pictures in his jacket pocket just in time for Eddie and Wayne to come back.

“Let’s eat!” Wayne said, setting down his haul.

Eddie sat down next to Steve. “You okay?”

Steve looked up at him and smiled. “Yeah. I think for the first time in my life I can say that with some kind of certainty.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked.

Steve bumped his shoulder. “Thanks to you.”

They started to eat and about half way through, Hopper asked, “You got a job, son?”

Steve shook his head. “My last job got blown up.”

Hopper chuckled. “You worked at the mall?”

Steve nodded.

“Anything else you can do besides customer service?” Hopper asked.

“I know a bit about cars,” Steve murmured into his plate. “I know my way around the inside of an engine. It was one thing my dad encouraged me to like until he realized I was good at it.”

Wayne scoffed. “Sounds like Clint all right.”

“I’ve got a cousin that runs a garage,” Hopper said. “I could talk to him about giving you a chance. Once this whole thing blows over I mean.”

Steve lit up. “That would be great.”

Wayne got a calculated look on his face and Hopper smiled.

Eddie gave Steve a sly look. “If you’re good with cars, then take a look at my van and see what’s wrong with it.”

Steve lit up. “I’d love to!” He hurried to finish his food.

“Take easy there, big boy,” Eddie said, laughing. “It’ll keep. I’d rather you didn’t choke.”

Steve blushed, but slowed down eating.

Eddie just shook his head.

Once they finished, Eddie and Steve cleared the table, leaving Wayne and Hopper alone.

“You got a good kid there, Wayne,” Hopper said.

“He’s a bit rough around the edges,” Wayne murmured, “but he’s got the biggest heart I know.”

Hopper nodded. “And it looks as though you’ve picked up another one.”

Wayne chuckled. “It appears to be a Munson trait, picking up lost strays.”

Hopper laughed. “Seems like it.” He stood up and clapped Wayne on the shoulder. “I’ve got a couple of calls to make. And a witch hunt to call off.”

Wayne grinned. “Just let me know if you need my help.”

Hopper nodded.

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Epilogue

Tag List: @steve-the-hairrington @satan-is-obsessed @sadcanadianwinter @yearningagain @books-are-my-life-since-1996 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @homohomohoe

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #gay steve harrington #abuse tw #ladykailtiha writes

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shuuuuush · 10 months

Text

CAN I KISS YOU YET? [Sharky]

Summary: Last-minute flight confessions

Warnings: none

A/N: Legit have been trying to come up with fics by listening to music, had this song on repeat, "Can I Kiss You?" By Dahl. It's inspired by the song, and you can listen to it at the bottom! Also not proofread !

*** ***

2 years? Was that how long you knew Sharky for?

No. That was how long you loved him. You have known him since forever.

Ever since then, conversations with him have just changed. Every word, every eye contact you both made, just turned your stomach upside down, and you were sure you could have almost had heart attacks with the way he made your heart skip a beat on multiple occasions.

You've been building up the courage to start a conversation on this one topic.

Your feelings.

But what's holding you back though? You've got nothing to lose.

Except maybe your courage, or maybe your well-built friendship with him. Is it worth the loss? You decided yes it is. It is because maybe you have a chance.

You'd have to tell him soon anyway because he was about to leave for another country to film a beta squad video.

Thinking it through, if you told him at the airport before he left, maybe he would think about it throughout his trip?

Or maybe you were just trying to convince yourself that you wouldn't be hurt if he said no.

After all, flights and airports usually are the start of something new.

Half an hour before the flight leaves, you go see off the beta squad. Hugging and wishing each one a safe flight.

When you get to Sharky you hesitate for a bit before hugging him as well.

You could stay in his embrace forever. That's how much you loved him.

When you let go, he held onto your waist for a little bit and told you. "Stay safe, too, Y/N."

You were about to speak when he let go, and the others told him they had to board the plane real soon.

Are you just going to let him go without telling him?

Without thinking straight, you grabbed his hand to stop him from leaving quickly, causing a confused reaction from the taller man.

"Now or never, " you thought.

"Y/N, what-"

"Sharky, I love you." Avoiding eye contact, looking anywhere but him to remain having a good composure. Taking a deep breath, you continued,

"I've known you for so long, and you still make me nervous. Maybe I'm just imagining things, but when you look at me, I hope you don't look at me as a friend."

And then you looked up at him.

To you, it was dead silent, not even the slightest scatter of wheels from other people's suitcases could be heard. Staring into those beautiful brown chocolate eyes. Hoping, begging for him to say something.

Anything, something to let you know that maybe for once what you did was right.

And then laughter, a beautiful smile erupted from the man in front of you. His angelic voice still sends you butterflies.

"So can I kiss you?"

And with a simple nod, he wastes no time in grabbing your waist to pull you closer to him and capturing this perfect moment with a delicate kiss.

It felt so familiar, like your lips were both made for each other. And you felt so relieved that he felt the same way.

You pulled away and lingered there, centimetres apart for a split second before diving into another kiss.

Wrapping your arms around his neck and him grinning into the kiss, tightening his grip around your waist.

You felt joy bubbling up inside of you, and you knew that after this, there was no going back, and you think it is worth it to be with Sharky.

Pulling away for air, he takes hold of your cheek, lovingly rubbing his thumb against it. "You know, I've been picturing this moment since forever. And I'll be honest, I was a bit impatiently waiting to see if you liked me back or not. And I'm so glad you do."

Off near the gate of the door, the boys whooped and cheered for their boy Sharky, glad to know that he finally found someone, and someone they can trust too.

Sharky laughed and caused you to do the same as he put a thumbs up to the guys.

"Congrats, Sharky! But we really gotta go on this plane!" Niko shouted, cupping his hands over his mouth to make sure it was loud enough for Sharky to hear.

Rolling his eyes, he shouted an 'ok' back. And then he looked back at you again. This time in his eyes, it's not full of confusion but of love, a longing trust and relief that you do love him, and he loves you back.

He shook his head and smiled, and pointed to his cheek, and you just chuckled, reaching up to kiss his cheek quickly. "I love it when you look at me like that."

"Just hurry up and come back to me. You'll be late on your flight now." You laughed as you slightly shoved him towards the gate.

"I'll come back to you !" He shouted right before entering the gate. He waved at you, and you returned it as the flight attendant closed the door.

You smiled to yourself because you knew he would, and you were so glad you told him. You sure aren't forgetting this moment at all.

(And Aj caught the whole thing on camera and sent it to you, so you definitely aren't going to watch this over and over again. )

Taglist: @b4tasquad, @p3drii, @n1kodl, @elora-k, @slutforpablogavi, @enhacolor

#beta squad #sharky #sharky x reader #sharky x you #sharky imagines #sharky oneshots #shuuuuush fics

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ejlovespie · 2 years

Text

Uncomplicated

Pairing: Stefan Salvatore x fem!vampire!reader

Summary: Things get a little heated when you offer Stefan to drink from you…

Words: 1.1K (This went a tad long for a drabble...whoops!)

Warnings / Tags: 18+ vampire biting & blood sharing / mild smut / touching / implied sex

A/N: @akshi8278 Thank you for participating in this game of mine and thank you for following my blog and reading/sharing my work. You were one of my first followers when I started posting a few years ago and every time I see your handle come up, it makes me smile. <3 You have made a big impression on me and have pushed me to keep writing. I appreciate you so much and hope you like this little fic. :) xoxo -EJ

P.S. This is my first Stefan fic *squeal!* I loved writing him!

“I’m sorry, Y/N but no. Absolutely not.” Stefan is shaking his head at you, jaw tight and lips set in a firm, unhappy line.

You whine and put on the best, biggest, puppy-dog-eyed performance you have ever given and it's Oscar worthy because you’re desperate to get Stefan to agree. When he finally looks at you, his hazel eyes go dark as he shakes his head at you. Mentally digging in your heels, you hit him with the main point of your argument again.

“Stef, please. It’s perfectly safe and you’ll get more drinking from me than you will with any innocent woodland creature. Plus, I’ve heard all the talk. A lot of vampires do this all the time and I really think this is your best option here. I'm just asking you to try it. Please?”

Wearing dark jeans, boots, and a tan long-sleeved henley, your best friend is standing stiffer than his ‘hero hair.’ With the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, you try not to stare at his muscled arms crossed over his broad chest. Stubborn, you mimic his stance and stick out your bottom lip in a playful pout until he rolls his pretty eyes at you and drops his arms. You’re currently squaring off in the sitting room of the Salvatore house. If you could feel any fluctuation in temperature, you might shiver at the slight breeze coming in through the open window or warm from the heat coming off the fire in the harth. Stefan finally sits, his daylight ring glinting from the light of the fireplace as he pours both of you another drink. Accepting the offered glass, you study the bourbon decanter on the coffee table and take a sip. You both sit in tense silence for a long moment before you break it.

Your voice comes out softer than you mean it to when you ask, “Just tell me why. Why are you so dead-set against this? Why won’t you even try? Is it me? I know it’s kind of an..intimate thing but..would it really be that bad?”

Stefan sighs. It’s prolonged and heavy with exasperation. Closing his eyes, he throws back the rest of his drink like it’s an Olympic sport before setting the glass down on the table in front of him.

Turning his body to face you, he says, “Y/N..you don’t know what you’re asking..what you’re offering. I know you’re trying to help but this could complicate our relationship. Blood sharing is..uh..personal and the others that do this all the time are couples.”

Heat creeps up your neck and cheeks from his low words and direct stare. You understood the implication of what he was saying but you didn’t care. Stefan’s health and wellbeing was more important to you than an awkward moment in your long-standing friendship. Making the decision to put him first, whether he saw it that way or not, you set your glass down before bringing your wrist to your mouth. Stefan begins to argue again but you ignore his protests as your fangs elongate and you bite into the vein inside your wrist. Looking at Stefan, you hold it out to him and wait. Your chest tightens at the sallowness in his skin and the sunken, purple bruises under his eyes. Guilt sours your stomach. You waited too long, let him starve himself too much before finally gaining enough courage to offer this to him.

With parted lips, Stefan stares at the small trail of bright red blood dripping from the wound on your wrist down your extended arm. After a moment, a soft sound escapes his throat and his eyes begin to shift from human to predator.

Scooting closer to him on the couch, you bring your bleeding wrist a little closer to his face and murmur, “Stop fighting me. Please, just take it. I’m a vampire, not a human. You’ll be able to stop.”

Unable to hold back from the temptation any longer, Stefan grabs you, gentler than you thought possible with how starved he was, and brings your open wound to his lips. He hovers there for a second and locks eyes with you before finally biting into your torn flesh. You both groan quietly as the first drops of your blood fall onto his tongue. It doesn’t take long for the blood flow to increase and you moan softly as Stefan begins to drink feely from you. Heat pools in your belly and time slows to a crawl as your best friend's strong arms pull you, soft and pliant, into his lap.

The room is filled with the soft sound of the crackling fire and the low, needy sounds coming from both of you. You melt into each other and it doesn’t bother you that you’re closer to Stefan than you’ve ever been before. It doesn’t bother you to have his hands rubbing along your arms, waist, neck, and collarbones. The feel of his touch is divine on your skin, setting your body ablaze. The smell of Stefan’s spicy cologne, aged bourbon, burning pine, and your blood mix until you feel dizzy and intoxicated. You want more.

Eyes heavy, your free hand moves up to touch and explore Stefan’s body as he feeds from you. More heat pools low in your belly and suddenly you desperately want to be on the receiving end of this exchange. Blood may be blood but each person smells and tastes slightly different and dark, needy desire has you thinking dirty thoughts about your best friend. Adjusting on Stefan’s lap, you press your center into his growing erection. The movement is equivalent to dumping ice water on him as he is catapulted back to reality.

He pulls your wrist from his bloody lips and looks at you with wide, shocked eyes. Speechless, you both stare at each other for a long moment. The air is thick with tension and your body still sings with curiosity and lust but you smile softly up at Stefan. He looks so much better, his color is slowly returning to normal and the bruises under his eyes are much less prominent than they were a few minutes ago. Reaching up, you touch his cheek gently as the wound on your wrist heals itself and closes.

In a breathy, slightly shaky voice you say, “Better, much better.”

Stefan stares down at you cradled in his lap, his now steely erection still pressed to your core. With eyes full of emotion, and a voice full of gravel, he states, “I’ve dreamed of you in my arms like this for so long..Are we complicated now?”

Smiling brightly, you bite your bottom lip gently and move your hips to create more friction against Stefan’s lap. He sucks in a sharp breath and you reply, “No, never.. but I hope you take me upstairs to bed an–”

With inhuman speed and strength, you’re picked up, carried, and tossed into Stefan’s silken bedsheets faster than you could finish what you were about to say.

#stefan salvatore #stefan salvatore x reader #stefan salvatore smut #the vampire diaries #tvd fanfiction

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jeneseoquoi · 11 months

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saw this thing on twitter saying 127 are all the type to get in a fight for u but who do u think actually would fight??? like i cant see alllllll of them fighting lol

LMAO i'm laughing bc i saw this exact same thing on twitter too. it was hilarious seeing everyone's opinions. here's mine:

nct 127 | reacting to you in a fight

taeil: he is absolutely not jumping in at any point in time. will make sure nobody tries to sneak you though. snatches anybody's phone who tries to record it. tells you you won even if you both know they two pieced you up. laughs every time when it randomly pops into his head weeks/months/years later.

johnny: his big ass. he will definitely laugh while recording if you're really tossing that ho like a salad. if you start losing or the other person's friends try to jump you, he's immediately intervening to stop the fight. lines everyone who witnessed it up and makes them delete any incriminating evidence off their phones.

taeyong: is BEGGING you to stop fighting. once he realizes it's dead serious and you're not going down without a fight, he just steps back to watch and make sure nobody around is being sneaky. (saw someone on twitter say he would post the other person's weave that he snatched up the next day and i absolutely stand by the person who said this lmaooooo.)

yuta: MY DAWG IS 100% IN THE MIDDLE WRECKING HOS FOR YOU. like the minute he senses you're about to get in a fight, he's already there throwing bows left and right. let a trifling bitch pull your hair, he's immediately got them in a chokehold talking about some "i'll let go when you let go." lays out anybody who ever tries to step to you again. this is my rider frfr.

doyoung: is so embarrassed omg. yelling at you to remember his image in hopes of getting you to come to your senses and stop fighting. actively running around the crowd taking peoples' phones so they can't record. soooo mad at you after the fight is over, but still makes sure to take care of you and any wounds you suffered.

jaehyun: anyone who decides to be with this man has to have hands like. he is genuinely confused as to what's happening, but trusts that you can handle your own so he just watches in amusement. lies and tells you it's just a little scratch & that you still look pretty afterwards, even though your shit is BUSTED. at least you won though.

jungwoo: is screaming, crying, and throwing up. like normally you're his soft, sweet baby, so who the fuck is this?!?!? in tears the entire time it's happening, like he can't even comprehend what led up to the fight in the first place. on his knees, BEGS you to never ever get into another fight ever again. he is genuinely traumatized, like he never sees you the same way again lmao.

mark: cursing everybody in that mf out. "the fuck is your problem bro"-ing everyone involved. only hops in when he sees you starting to lose. in turn starts getting his ass beat, which gives you the advantage to start molly whopping hos so you can save your man. will forever remind you of the time he got his shit rocked just so you wouldn't lose a fight. don't ever let him go hahaha.

haechan: honestly, probably the reason you're in a fight in the first place. like he was the one talking mad shit in the first place, but you know he don't got hands at all, so now here you are fighting his battle. keeps taunting the other person & the people on their side like "yeah that's right, mess with me and my girl will smack you up." you promise yourself that when you're done whooping their ass, that he's next.

#nct 127 reactions #nct reactions #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 writings #nct writings #thatsseonini: asks #this was so much fun to write lmaoooooo #yuta the only one i'd trust in a fight #mark is a close second bc he'll take a beating for you lmao

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sunnysoulzz · 7 months

Text

Casper Galloway x afab!reader

I couldn’t find any dead before dawn fanfics, so im writing one 💪 I love writing for nonexistent fandoms

Contains: virgin!sub!casper x afab!reader, takes place during the apocalypse, caspers got a praise kink :3, edging (m receiving), no mention of readers pronouns, reader is on birth control, (this also definitely wouldn’t fit in the timeline, also charlotte basically doesn’t exist whoops)

The sky was dark. The van was parked in a corner, making it kind of hard to see what was around from the inside. Your friends had gone out searching, you and Casper were left to guard the van/be the getaway drivers.

You laid on the bed, waiting for any sounds of danger. Casper sat at the table, doodling away in his sketch book. You sat up and looked at him, you always found him quite cute. You slowly stood up and walked towards him, peering over his shoulder you looked at what he was sketching. He was obviously sketching you. You smiled and tapped him on the shoulder.

He jumped slightly and looked up at you. “Ah- hey” he said nervously, his hands moving to quickly close the sketch book. “What’chu drawing?” You looked from his face to his hands. Caspers face was turning red. “Nothing” he swallowed hard. You couldn’t help but smile, the shyness made him incredibly cute. You sat down next to him. He moved over, giving you more room. “Can I see?” You gave him your best puppy eyes, your hands already reaching towards the sketchbook. It didn’t take him long to slowly nod his head. You started flipping though the pages. Half of them were of you. Casper watched your face, looking for any signs of disgust or hatred. He thought you were going to hate him. His face turning more red the more you flipped though it.

“Are these” you began, “drawings of me?” You looked to him, you already knew the answer, but you wanted to hear it from him. He stuttered slightly, looking anywhere but you. “Uh..yeah..” his voice was quiet. “I think it’s great” you looked back to his sketch book, “you’re a real artist”. His eyes lit up “..really?” He leaned closer to you.

You nodded, “of course, your art is amazing”. His gaze was locked on you, his eyes traveled from your eyes to your hands to your thighs. He blushed. You glanced over to him, watching the blush grow on his face as he looked away from you. You placed your hand on his thigh, feeling him tense up under your touch.

“T-thank you..” he felt his pants grow tighter, he didn’t get compliments often. You noticed the way he shifted in his seat, you licked your lips as you smiled.

“Casper” you shifted to fully look at him, “you…draw me quite a lot” you looked to the sketch book, then back at him. “Is there something you want to tell me?~” you smirked slightly, he leaned back, his eyes widened, “u-uh..” he stuttered out. You leaned towards him. You looked down, his growing erection becoming obvious. Your face felt hot.

“W-well..I think you’re really pretty..” he still avoided your gaze. You moved towards him, placing your other hand next to him. “You know, everyone else won’t be back for a while..” you moved your hand up his thigh, “we could-“ “yes please” he cut you off. His voice was slightly shaky. You smiled at him as your hand moved to his bulge. He bit his lip, his hand gripped the couch.

You straddled him, purposefully rubbing against his erection. He whimpered softly, his hand moving to your waist. “W-wait” he mumbled, “I’ve never…” he looked away from you, his ears tinted red “..done this before”.

You chuckled, moving to hold his face in your hands. “I can tell” you kissed him, the kiss quickly turned desperate and hungry. You moved your hand down his chest to his pants, you rubbed his erection though his jeans. He moaned into your mouth. You unzipped his pants and pulled his boxers down, letting his cock free. You rubbed your hand up and down his cock, using his precum as lube. You pushed his chest down, forcing him to lay down. You moved down the couch, looking up though your lashes at him before you licked his cock from the base to the tip.

He threw his head back, a loud moan escaping his mouth. He sat up on his elbows, wanting to watch you as you sucked him off. He laced his fingers though your hair as you started bobbing your head up and down. He tried to suppress his mouths by biting his lip.

It didn’t take him long to reach his breaking point. His breathing became heavier, he bucked his hips. His other hand moved to your hair as well. “Please I’m gonna-..” he breathed out. You let go of his dick with a pop. He laid back down, one of his hands moving to cover his eyes as he panted, “why’d you stop..”.

You stripped off your bottom layers, “because we aren’t finished yet” you smiled as you moved to sit on top of him again, happy you were on birth control. He looked up at you, his eyes half lidded and his mouth hung agape as he caught his breath. You rubbed his cock against your entrance, his hands found your hips as you slowly lowered yourself, wincing slightly at the feeling.

His hands gripped your hips again, practically leaving bruises already. “Oh fuck..” he moaned out. You bit your lip as you started moving. It didn’t take you long to speed up the pace. Casper’s hands still on you as he tried to buck his hips along with you.

It could’ve only been a few minutes of you bouncing on his cock when he throbbed inside of you, the grip on your hips becoming tighter. “W-wait I’m gonna-“ he whimpered out, his voice strained. You suddenly stopped, caspers cock buried inside you as you smiled at him. He groaned, partly from the feeling of being inside you and partly because you had just stopped his release “please- I need- stop teasing me~” he moaned out.

He looked up at you through his lashes. You started moving again, his cock going in and out of you as he smiled “yes- I-“ he couldn’t form sentences, the feeling of you being to much for him. He bucked his hips to meet yours, your moans filling him with a sense of pride. He wanted to make you feel good too.

You moaned his name. He doesn’t know what it is about you saying his name but he was filled with confidence. His hands held your hips in place as he started rutting up into you. Now it was you throwing your head back and moaning. One of your hands gripped his shirt, the other gripping the top of the couch. “Yes, just like that” you looked back to him, your eyes locked as he smiled at you. His eyes were half lidded, his face all red and his hair messy. God that pretty smile.

“Gonna cum” you leaned forward, kissing him as your hands moved up to is shoulders then to his neck while he held your hips in place. Your hand moved down to rubbed circles into your clit. That pushed you over the edge, you came around his cock. He didn’t take long to do the same. He slammed up into you, moaned loudly as he came. “Ah- s-sorry” he whimpered out, still hazy. You smiled as you laid against his chest “it’s ok, I liked it”. He blushed, if it was even possible for his face to be anymore red.

—

And then you had to spedrun getting dressed because your friends were back, followed by zemons. And from then on Casper was completely head over heels for you :] lol to the 5 people who know who this character is, I hope you enjoyed it 😭🙏 I haven’t properly proof read it but I NEEDED to write for Casper, why can’t I find any proper casper fics rahhh

#rodrick heffley smut #devon bostick #casper galloway smut #casper galloway x reader #Casper Galloway x y/n #dead before dawn 3d #dead before dawn 3D smut #survival of the dead

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lemmetreatya · 1 year

Text

Rent-A-Boyfriend — Zeke Jaeger x fem!Reader

synopsis: You need — a boyfriend who can trick your friends into thinking your love life isn’t inept. You receive — Zeke Jaeger, a man who’d do pretty much anything for a bit of cash and a night out

warnings: none

“Heeeey, baby.”

With a saccharine smile, Zeke waltz into the small VIP section where you and your friends were currently sat.

Instantly you get up to greet him, the smile on your face wide, but the blonde didn’t give you a chance to greet him back.

“Ahh! Zeke, He—”

Unexpectedly, Zeke wields his arm behind you to grab a handful of your ass. You let out a squeak in retaliation as he uses the momentum to pull you closer so that he could land a hot kiss to your lips — as if the action just couldn’t wait until you were both within more private confinements.

In reaction, your girlfriends make various noises behind you; some of surprise and some of neutral judgment.

Once you pull away with a breathless sigh and wide open eyes, your hands automatically find their way to the plane of his chest.

“Well, hello to you too.” You finally cheese.

But alas, your smile matches his own, and you’re more than enamoured that’d he’d be this affectionate with you in public — just as you both planned.

From behind, you hear one of your friends speak up.

”So this be him, huh? Your ‘Zachary’ man?”

Both you and the blonde share a look.

Seeing as your back was to your friends you mouth a quick ‘sorry’ to him, but before you could retaliate, Zekes poking his head pass the side of you so that he could give your friend a pearly white practiced smile.

“Uh, well. Funnily enough, it’s actually short for Ezekiel?”

His tone wasn’t (that) condescending. If anything you think he was a tad bit too nice. But concerning how there was a dead stare from the other girls and not a lick of response, Zeke thought to back track his words.

“Buuuut I’ll take Zachary. Sure.”

The mood is still slightly stale, and you can hear some of the girls upwardly clear their throats. Internally you start to panic because God, were things really going wrong already?! However, being the perceptive man he was, Zeke notices your uneasy attitude and therefore tries his best to alleviate it.

"Hey. How about I get us some drinks, huh? Liven you girls up a bit. We all a fan of fun stuff?!"

A preppy chorus of 'yeah's, 'sures' and 'why nots' echo around the table, but it's you that Zeke looks down at for confirmation. With a thankful expression you nod in permit of his suggestion.

"Yeah, that sounds great, Zeke. Thank you."

Zeke buggers off towards the bar in order to get the shots whilst you easily welcome yourself back down at the table. But as soon as you sit, your friends hunch inwards with giddy expressions.

”You know, I’ve got to give it to you. I really thought you were lying out your ass when you said you had a man.”

A few of the other girls hum in agreeal but you can’t help but feel a twang taut at your heart. If only they really knew.

“Right! Now look at you, pulling all Mister Zack and shit!” Says another.

“It’s Zeke.” You find yourself saying.

The girl dismisses your comment as she rolls her eyes. You can only let out an awkward laugh before shuffling backwards into your booth seat.

Once Zeke comes back with several shots between his fingers balanced under two plates of limes, the table erupts with whoops.

“Alright!” He encourages.

The blonde places the drinks onto the table and your friends all take at one. Zeke takes two from the lot and hands you one of them.

“For you, mi lady.”

The limes are passed round and the tables buzzing at the sudden kindness of your newly met boyfriend. Seeing their happy faces made you pleased and so you easily leaned back to thank Zeke, your words sounding like a whisper over the pumping music.

“You didn’t have to get them the drinks.”

Rather than turning in your direction, Zeke’s eyes keep track of the lime plate that’s coming his way. His hand closest to you easily finds your thigh as he squeezes it in solidarity.

“It’s no problem. They looked like they needed to loosen up so I thought ‘why not?’”

An easy smile danced over your lips as you bumped your arm next to his.

“But still, thank you for buying them.”

“Oh. No, you needn’t thank me.” Zeke picks up a lime before passing you the last one. “It’s not like I brought the drinks with my own money, I just used your card that I slipped out your back pocket.”

A shock passes over you, so much so that you accidentally drop your lime into your lap.

“I—Wh, what?!”

“Bottoms up, ladies!” He suddenly shouts.

Zeke is quick to clink his shotglass against those of your friends. The other woman, unbeknownst to the information you just got landed with, cheer in accordance with the blonde man as they all take their shots. You back your drink with a delay, your mind still processing Zeke’s audacity.

The familiar fuzzy burn down your throat wasn’t comforting but it was enough to distract you from everything that’d been difficult so far.

Zeke makes a squeezed face at the sizzle of the lime before turning his head towards you, his lips only about ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“You should really mind what you put in your back pockets. Any sick fuck who’d happen to get their hands on this could really drain your account.” The blonde waves your bank card in your face before placing it on the table in front of you.

Whether he was being serious or not, you couldn’t tell but something about his words rubbed you the wrong way.

Your friends looked on with googly eyes, seemingly thinking that Zeke was saying something risqué in your ear. Not wanting to possibly give yourself away, you distract yourself by trying to smudge lime juice out of your jeans.

“And you should really mind who’s money you spend because who knows if they’ll end up plotting your demise?” You mumble.

Zeke only smirks reservedly. Despite being a heavyweight, it seems like the affects of the singular shot was already doing it’s work. You wonder if he pregamed?

“You wiiiiish.” He says teasingly with a low voice as his mouth finally latches onto the shell of your ear with a soft bite.

It didn’t hurt, but not expecting the action, you jumped away.

“What the hell?!” You screech below your breath.

Your girls jump along with you — clear confirmation that their eyes were on you both — but the pull away was too suspicious to explain. Not knowing what to say or do to try and lighten the situation, your hand tugs onto the sleeve of Zeke’s top.

“Uhh. Let’s…let’s dance. Let’s go dance.”

Giving you a credulous yet giddy look, the blonde’s eyes wash all over your body. Even whilst getting up his eyes are still on you, and part of you wonders how much of him being your date for tonight he was taking for granted.

“If you say so.” He snorts.

As you pull him by his arm, Zeke makes a damselly ‘oh!’ sound before he’s wiggling his eyebrows over at your friends and causing the lot of them to childishly woo. It only makes you scoff more as you pull him away from the group.

Squeezing between a few bodies, you plugged the both of you in a nice enough spot that meant you were still in view of your friends but not too squashed up against others.

The music pumps much louder over on this side of the venue and so you have to wince for awhile in order to adjust to the volume. However, once you do, you wrap your arms up around Zeke’s neck in gruff gesture.

Automatically, Zeke’s hands are on your waist and that sleazy smile of his is back on his face.

”Never took you for the dancing type?” He says into one of your ears and you have to force yourself not to roll your eyes.

“I’m not.”

At your words, Zeke’s hands start to rub against the small of your back. You subconsciously have to remember everything that could possibly be in your back pockets — not wanting to be a victim of theft a second time — but once you realise it’s just a lip balm, you relax a bit.

As he leans in closer, you could smell the light scent of alcohol that still clung to his tongue.

“Then why’d you pull me out here? Tryna get away from your girlypops?”

You lightly tread atop of the man’s toe. It was an accident but you definitely weren’t sorry.

“Shut up, Zeke.” You hiss. “This isn’t about them, this is about your behaviour.”

Zeke briefly pulls back to give you a credulous look, his hand briefly flying to his chest. If being a fake boyfriend wasn’t enough, he should definitely go into acting, you think.

“My behaviour? Oh no. Is my performance poor?”

“Poor? Not so much. Agitating? Entirely.” You mumble.

The both of you continue to dance tightly against each other. You’re sure anyone looking from the outside would think there was a passion between you both but you definitely know that wasn’t the case on your side of things.

With your mouth close to his ears, you bend him in forwards by the nape of his neck.

“In all truthfulness, Zeke, you’re pissing me off. I know you’re doing this as a favour, a help-out for one of your brother’s ‘little friends’, but you’ve got to take this seriously.”

Zeke sighs but simultaneously brings his hands down to hook over your ass.

“How much more serious about this do you want me to be? Because according to your girls, I’m doing a stellar job.”

With a comedic twist, Zeke turns round so that he could wave back to the table where your friend’s sat. All of them whooped and hollered in retaliation which only pissed you off even more.

Kneeing him brought his attention back to you.

“Ow!”

“Zeke, I’m being for real!” You seethe.

A scoff leaves the man’s throat but his hands are back on your ass and his cheek flat against your temple.

“And I don’t doubt that you aren’t, my love. But I think that’s the issue — you’re taking this too seriously.”

You know this relationship was supposed to be fake but you really believe this man was trying to fuck you over by being as overbearing as he could. You wriggle within his grasp, attempting to alleviate some space between you both but the blonde only squishes you against him more.

A loud groan leaves your mouth but Zeke playfully taps your ass to make sure you understood his heed.

“Come on, don’t be like this. If you continue being this anal your friends are gonna know somethings up so I suggest you keep your cool and act the part.”

Another groan left your mouth but because you had somewhat accepted that the man was speaking facts.

After all, you hired Zeke on the basis that you’d be able to convince your friends your love life wasn’t as bad as they made it out to be. The last thing you wanted was them pairing you up on blind dates again with the many incompatible options they thought would suit you.

With resignation, your body intensity relaxed into Zeke’s embrace. The man was able to feel you give in before you said it.

“Ugh, fine. Whatever.”

You could feel the vibrate of the hum Zeke made through his chest so you knew he was appeased with his slight win over you. But you couldn’t let him have that — you needed him to know he still wasn’t doing everything right.

“Also, you don’t have to use petnames when it’s just the two of us.”

“I know.” He smugly chirps.

And you sigh because even though you can’t see his face, you could only guess the one he had on.

Surprisingly to you, Zeke does fix up for the rest of the night. Well, sort of.

He doesn’t spend anymore of your money or steals your card. He does at one stage brazenly ask if you could buy him a bowl of peanuts but you give him a look that ceases his ask.

He steals your lip balm. Which, actually, you weren’t too annoyed about because he only did so once you’d told him his lips were unbelievably dry after he tried to kiss your neck.

Apart from those various things, Zeke was fine. The night had gone reasonably smooth and best of all — your friends had brought the schtick!

“Alright, boo. Make sure you get home safe, okay?”

Your friend kisses both of your cheeks with excessive mwahs. She wordlessly pats Zeke on the shoulder before getting into the uber that had just arrived. You make a small finger-to-palm gestures to her in order to bid her farewell. Zeke only nods.

Your other friends wave as they pile into the uber, a chorus of ‘byes’ singing throughout the night.

“I’ll text you when we get in.” Another friend gives you a side hug before blowing a kiss as walks to the passenger side of the uber seat. Whilst in transit, she waves to Zeke.

“It was nice meeting you, Zake!” She shouts before getting into the car.

Both you and Zeke play the part as you wave at the uber. Smiles wide as you watch the car pull off and around the corner. Once it’s out of sight, your acts are dropped and you both turn to each other in seriousness.

As you dig into your purse, Zeke’s already got a cigarette in his mouth as he brings the lighter to his face.

“A hundred, right?”

Zeke nods.

You count the money to the side, although you already know you had the right amount since you checked it before you left home. Once you counted it thrice, you reluctantly hand the money in Zeke’s direction.

Before you could even think about reconsidering the amount, the blonde snags the wad from you without thanks. He gingerly counts the amount in front of you, cigarette lodged between his lips as he focuses on the value of the money.

With a sigh, you defensively shrug your shoulders.

“What, you don’t trust my counting?”

Zeke makes a weird noise before ticking his head to the side and sucking in a sharp breath.

“Can’t lie, for what I had to put up with tonight? You’re gonna have to add in an extra forty.”

“An extra forty?!” You almost screech. “For what?!”

Zeke glances at you before looking upwards towards the night sky. A small hum leaves his throat in contemplation before he removes the cigarette from his mouth and looks back down at you again.

“I’ve been called everything but my actual name tonight. You know that kinda stuff can cause identity dysmorphia, right?”

It was so obvious he was pulling that out of his ass. And considering how he’d been spending your money tonight, you’re surprised at the sheer audacity of his ask.

“But how is that my fault? It’s them who couldn’t get it right, not me.”

Shaking his head, Zeke folds his arms over his chest. He takes a puff of his cigarette through the side of his mouth, all without the use of his hands.

“Pretty sure you wouldn’t wanna see me wound up dead on national TV with your name written all over my confessional journals and have forensics blame you for the cause of my death, would you?”

You’re too stunned to reply and so Zeke continues talking, his attitude lazily nonchalant as the cigarette dangled from his lips.

“Don’t think that’d look too good on you concerning you just introduced me to your friends—”

With a frantic gesture, you’re dipping your hands into your purse.

“Okay, okay! Fuck!”

Slapping the crumpled notes onto his chest, you huff before turning your back to him. You don’t walk far but you circle the small space of the pavement outside of the club. You wanted anything but to be in his presence right now.

“Who knew you were such a fucking cheap sket?” You mumble, but it was loud enough for him to hear.

“I’m literally a Jaeger, what more did you expect?” He replies as he stuffs the notes into his back pocket.

And in all honesty, you find yourself not being able to disagree with him because he had a point.

Seeing you were unresponsive, Zeke shrugs. At the end of the day, he’s done his job and gotten his pay — his work here was done. Patting himself down and dropping his cigarette to the floor, Zeke clicks his teeth at you.

“Alright. Well, it was good doing business with you, my love. We should toats do this again sometime.”

You turn back to him with one last look although your stubbornness prohibits you from entertaining him for long. But Zeke knows you’re only being prissy.

With a roll of his eyes, the man opens one of his arms for you to beckon to. He however doesn’t move from his spot.

“Don’t gimme that face, C’mere.” He says softly and you realise it’s the nicest he’s been all night.

You pout, still wanting to be stubborn, but it’s the way Zeke’s glasses glow underneath the streetlamps glow and the way his arm looks so inviting that pushes you to move back to him.

Your arms are folded but slowly you lean yourself into Zeke’s embrace.

As you lay your head onto his shoulder the blonde wraps his arm around your frame, before he bends down to plant a dry kiss to your temple. It’s the most platonic gesture he’s made all night but surprisingly it doesn’t make you think he’s all that bad. He smells heavy of ash smoke.

“I’ll see you around?” He says after awhile. You don’t miss how his hand squeezes your arm.

“Mm.”

You pull back from his embrace but you’re unable to look him in the eye as he unlocks his car to then get in. You stand on the pavement, watching him buckle himself in and start up the engine. And you think that’s the last he has to say to you — that is, until he rolls down his window and hangs his arm out it.

“Oh! Before I forget.”

There in his hands, Zeke waves at you a small lip balm tube. Your lip balm.

Instantly your hands fly to your back pocket and unsurprisingly, it’s empty. You give Zeke a crooked look but the man’s already throwing it for you to catch.

“I told ya! Mind what you put in your back pockets!”

Just as you catch the lip balm with several juggles, Zekes already speeding off down the road, leaving you alone on the roadside.

#cant lie i giggled a bit #zeke a real bitch #zeke jaeger #zeke x reader #lmaoooo classic zeke oml #zeke jeager x reader #zeke yaeger x reader #slight crack #aot x black reader

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powderblueblood · 3 months

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GETTING TO KNOW YOUR EDDIE

— the 411 on the loser playboy of the midwestern world

Tagged by @jo-harrington & @deathbecomesthem who got this stunning prompt on the road, love this love youse

let’s talk MUNSON!

What story is he from? What kind of story is it (Fix-it fic, Older!Eddie, Rockstar!Eddie etc)? The Eddie darling that takes up prime real estate in my brain is of course Hellfire & Ice Eddie, which is a teen romantic-dramadey with sprinkles of crime capers on top. We meet him at 18 years of age, drug dealin’, Dungeon wheelin’, at the absolute top of his bottom of the food chain game. He’s all raw nerve and engine sputter, our consummate not ready for prime time player. He is brassy, ballsy, funny, terrified.

What inspired you to write this Eddie? Flight of Icarus, actually! It reignited my initial love for him by basically confirming what I had already known to be true—he’s a little bitch that’ll take any opportunity to be struck down lovesick and he’s doomed by his bloodline.

What are your favorite headcanons about him/share something you never shared in your story? Eddie runs on a full tank of defiance, just burning rubber against what’s expected of kids his age—but to zoom in? Eddie sometimes wonders what it would be like if he was different. Tried harder. Cut his hair, joined the basketball team, really pulled himself up by his bootstraps and divorced himself from his stain of a last name. Folded in and blended, made all the right moves. Why couldn’t I do that? he thinks, Just pretend. I’m good at making shit up. But that’s selling out. And Eddie Munson is no sell out—rap sheet or no, his life is his own.

What does he wear on a casual day? On a dressier day? What does he wear to bed? Casual day, it’s your cartoon character stock costume of insert band t-shirt here, ripped jeans there, doubled up battle vest and leather cut to top it all off. There might be a variant in jean shade but that’s it. He likes to stick to a look. The dressiest he’ll go (he does not own dressy clothes) is a black cable knit sweater, very old, with the thumb holes worried through the cuffs. To bed, preferably nothing, but boxers of absolutely necessary and a very old, ratty pair of flannel PJ bottoms and an old t-shirt or a faded sweatshirt of Wayne’s if it’s freezing.

Favorite foods? This FUCK loves a pizza with the most fuckass toppings. Anchovy, black olive, pepperoni, sweetcorn (for the vitamins!), pineapple (for the jizz thing!) all on the one pie. But he can cook, to an extent, and we unfortunately have to hand this to ex-line cook Al who taught him how to grill a cheese and make a bitchin’ spaghetti with honeyed tomato gravy and lots of oregano. Eddie also loves a snack he can gesticulate with, see: Twizzler, corn dog, ice pop. Bordering on phallic foods.

Tell Us About His Family/Friends: Immediately in the gene pool—Al, the absent and up-to-no-good father who somehow still has a knife in Eddie’s side and will twist it with the simple words, “C’mon, that’s my boy!” Wayne, uncle and father figure, silent but loving and the only real pillar Eddie could ever lean against, and he feels like such a burden for it sometimes. Elizabeth, mommy dearest and dead, canonised like a saint in Eddie’s mind, and might have been but also might not have been. The root of his love of music and his need to tell stories to survive. The found-by-the-hand-of fate family— Ronnie Ecker, the Stalter to his Waldorf, the Bonham to his Page, the only person he’d ever follow into battle because you wouldn’t think it but Ronnie, who is secretly rage akimbo, would accidentally lead that charge. He loves her like a sister, she loves him like a dog. Just kidding. Maybe. He wants to be Ronnie Ecker when he grows up. Granny Ecker comes as part of this deal, one of the people credited with whooping Eddie into shape. We don’t quite know what shape yet, it’s Picassoan in nature. Then, the extension again that is the great Corroded Coffin/Hellfire crossover event—Jeff, Cyrus, Dougie and Gareth. He’s not quite as close with the boys, but they’re good boys. They love and fear him, except for Cyrus who is a true enigma which pisses Eddie off because he’s supposed to be the fucking enigma here, dammit.

Yeah Yeah, he's a Metalhead. Tell Us MORE About His Taste in Music in your story: We are working off Flight of Icarus rules so he’s got a taste in the mouth for Howlin’ Wolf style blues, real down and dirty Detroit shit. He also loves a sleazeball, so enter Tom Waits and when he’s feeling REALLY sentimental, Leonard Cohen. Eddie loves to bite a thumb so he has some punk spinning too—Richard Hell, MC5, The Cramps, and reluctantly Iggy and the Stooges. They’re Al’s favourite so kind of tainted. Last but not least, I think that Johnny Cash’s Live From Folsom Prison album gets a lot of play. Particularly Cocaine Blues and Dark in the Dungeon, which he’s definitely incorporated into some campaign. He does NOT listen to CHICK MUSIC because he’s a loser boy (Wayne has a Linda Ronstadt record that makes him cry).

What are his views on romance? On sex? Eddie Munson falls in love fourteen times a day because at the be all and end all, he’s an artist and he’s sensitive as shit. Let’s get one thing straight—he can flirt to beat the band, once anyone gives him the time of day. Which they don’t. But in his mind? He’s a silver tongued Casanova. It’s just easier to use on people he hates. Once he has a crush, he has an obsession, even if he’s oftentimes too chickenshit to act on it. Cue pulling pigtails in the playground routine. He wants so badly to worship someone and be worshipped in return, okay, it’s reciprocal worshipping—give him mutual pathological obsession or give him DEATH. He wants to build a shrine, and will, to the right person. He’ll preoccupy his mind with every detail about them to the point where, yeah, it is borderline kind of stalkery but he’s still 18 years old. Speaking of, sex? Yeah, he’s done it. Badly. He’s like to do it again, goodly. He’d like to do it with someone that wasn’t treating it like an experiment, someone who’d let him slobber all over them and rut and keen and whine like the hound in heat he fucking feels like. He has no goddamn control! He experiences pleasure in a total headrush, never been able to stay cool and sexy and commanding a day in his life. He just wants, wants, wants and he burns so hot. Eddie wants so clumsily that it comes out at the most inappropriate times, like the nurse’s office after he gets his fist busted. He’s not some sex god, just some dick with an overeager cock. But he sure is willing to put in the work.

Is he optimistic or pessimistic? Pessimistic on the surface, the life is shit and then you die so might as well do some whippits poster boy but so so secretly, Eddie holds the tiniest flame of hope that someday, somehow, things will get better. At the very least easier. That he’ll grow into his bones somehow, or someone will help soothe him into them. That he’ll feel some kind of belonging. Because he does want that, really. Some soft place to land.

Where or with whom is he most comfortable? Those pockets of alchemy at Hellfire Club when he’s got a rapt audience. With Ronnie, sitting on the sagging couch outside his trailer. Playing chauffeur to a certain princess across-the-way.

What are his views of his future? What are his hopes/dreams? Pie in the sky? Cover of Circus with his cheeks out, duh. A Grammy or two, his own metal club, a published fantasy author, shit. He’s not askin’ for the world, here! But honestly, Eddie’s view of his future is 18 year old misanthropist bleak. He hasn’t even considered college as an option, not that he’d get there with his grades. He figures he might just start selling full time for Rick once (if) he graduates then hopefully have the good enough sense to take his money and split to Chicago or someplace. Might hit it lucky when he’s played in a couple more iterations of Corroded Coffin and con someone into letting him be a session guitarist—which wouldn’t be the cover of Circus, but would still be a huge deal! But as much as an ego game as he likes to talk, he’s got this terrible, looming feeling that he’ll never leave Hawkins alive.

What do you imagine his future looks like? (If your story is incomplete or if this would be a spoiler you're not willing to share, you can skip this question.) I’ll give you a couple details, because I am writing a sequel about this. Picture a brief stint in Indianapolis. Meaner, grizzlier, bartender-ier, going on a decade of heartbreak, performing at his sexual best but nearing burnout and about to turn 30 with some side dealings at home that are edging out of the side and into the forefront. Heavy is the hand that wears the ring. You look so much like your father!

Anything else you'd like us to know about your Eddie/your story? He is so full of love and piss and vinegar. He is going to end up cherished. Like, violently so.

Optional Vulnerable Question: Why do you write fics for Eddie Munson? I love a tragedy touched smartass who folds at the first sign of affection. I want to nourish him and eat him up like the witch from Hansel and Gretel. Or have Lacy do it for me, whatever.

tagging: YOU. READING THIS. Not KIDDING IF YOURE READING THIS GET TO WORK

#YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH BOYYYYYYYYYYYYYY #you can tell I came up through rp by reading this #wrote on mobile so if you see typos NO U DIDNT!#e. munson by powder #hai brainrot

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criminalamnesia · 2 years

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Nothing Breaks Like A Heart

summary: she’s dead, and he’s grieving in his own way.

warnings: angst, hangman being an ass (but he’s sad ok), talks of death, denial, not proofread

author’s note: soooo like one person asked for this a while ago but here is a sequel to “Adore You” because I am evil. You can read “Adore You” here

“Jake…. Sorry…”

Those were the last words he heard from her before her plane crashed. His eyes had widened as shock and confusion overtook his mind. His hands gripped the throttle of his plane, flying on autopilot as he tried to convince himself that she was alright.

“Seresin, get your ass back to the ship! What do you think you’re doing?!”

Someone was screaming at him over the comms, but Jake barely heard them. He pushed his throttle forward– the plane shooting towards where he knew she had been.

He didn’t start focusing on his comms again until he saw a fighter zoom by, away from the fighting. Fanboy and Payback were leaving. Where was everyone else? Maverick? Rooster? His hands subconsciously eased up on the throttle, his fighter now sitting stationary in the air.

Jake furrowed his brows, his ears tuning back into the clamor happening over the radio.

“I’m going back for them. Maverick, Silver, and Bob are still out there. I’m not leaving them,” Rooster sounded determined, even as multiple pleas and orders for him to return to the ship yelled through the comms.

Rooster didn’t speak again after that. Jake assumed the worst, and knowing he was already in deep shit anyways– and that there was absolutely no way in hell that he was leaving her out there– he continued on his flight path towards the action.

By the time he got there, he spotted an old, beat up enemy F14 and another enemy plane, locked in a dogfight. Jake jumped right in, hoping just the slightest bit that she was in that F14.

He fired a missile, hitting the enemy dead on. With a wide grin he pulled up beside the F14, words already on his lips before he got a look at the pilots inside.

“This is your savior speaking,” he turned his head to look at the plane and his face instantly fell. She wasn’t there. It was Maverick and Rooster, who were laughing and thanking Hangman, but he barely heard them.

His mind numb, he followed Maverick and Rooster back towards the aircraft carrier. A crowd had gathered around their planes as each of the three pilots jumped out of the cockpits. Rooster and Maverick were grinning widely, embracing each other and whooping with glee.

Jake was quiet, climbing down slowly from his cockpit as he pushed his way towards the other men.

“Hangman! Thanks for saving our asses–” Rooster began, but Hangman waved him off, hurriedly changing the subject.

“Did you see her go down? Is she okay?”

Rooster’s brows furrowed as he shook his head. “I– things were crazy up there. I heard her say she was going down and then…. nothing.”

He clapped a hand onto Hangman’s shoulder, giving him a look of sympathy. Rooster was Silver’s friend, too. Inhaling deeply, Hangman nodded and let himself be pulled into Rooster for a short hug.

Maverick came up to them then, and as Jake stepped away from Rooster, Maverick threw an arm around his shoulders and steered him out of the crowd.

“Listen, I’m grateful for what you did. You saved our asses,” Maverick said with a small smile. It didn’t seem happy, Jake noted. It seemed sad.

“But that’s not all Cyclone sees. He also sees how you blatantly disobeyed orders, how you threw yourself headfirst into a fight you knew nothing about just because you cared about Silver–”

“I care about her,” Jake corrected him. Maverick gave a conceding nod. “Of course I care about her. She’s part of our team. No one was trying to see if she or Bob were alright. They could be dead for all we know, and you guys are celebrating while they’re stuck in enemy territory in who knows what condition?” His voice rose as he spoke, shaking Maverick’s arm from his shoulders as he rounded to face the older man.

Jake’s eyes narrowed as he shoved a finger into Maverick’s chest accusingly. “You were team leader, and you left them.”

Maverick exhaled, slowly shaking his head. “Jake, I didn’t have a choice– I went down, too. We were in deep shit and I couldn’t exactly land and start a manhunt for them in the middle of a life-or-death dogfight.”

“Bullshit! If it was Rooster that had crashed–”

“Jake,” Maverick raised his eyebrows. “Stop talking before you say something that you can’t take back.” He warned.

Jake scoffed and walked away, in the direction of the bridge and his inevitable reprimanding.

“Stupid!” Cyclone’s voice raised as he addressed the lieutenant before him. Jake stood stock-still, hands clasped behind his back as he stared at a spot right above Cyclone’s head. He had barely heard anything the Vice Admiral had said. He was still thinking about Silver and whether or not she’d been found yet.

“Stupid, yet brave,” Cyclone sighed heavily, leaning his hands against one of the ship’s control panels. He shook his head before looking back to Hangman. A short silence fell before Cyclone spoke again.

“Rescue’s been sent out. They’ll find them.”

Jake nodded. “Am I dismissed?”

Cyclone shut his eyes for a second before opening them, nodding at the lieutenant. “You’re dismissed.”

Jake left the room quickly, his mind reeling. It had been hours and rescue was just now being sent. He clenched his jaw, his fists balling up as he stalked towards his quarters. Luckily, there were only a few others inside the small space, either taking a quick nap or talking quietly amongst themselves. Jake ignored them all as he clambered into his bunk, closing his eyes and hoping, wishing, that she was okay. That whatever was between them wasn’t going to be ended that quickly. That he would get to know her, truly.

Rooster came to fetch him a while later. He took him outside onto the ship’s deck and pulled him to the side. Jake knew what was coming before the words even left Rooster’s mouth.

“They found them. Bob’s alright, a little scraped up, but he’ll be fine with some rest. Silver, she…” his voice cracked, a hand reaching to run through his hair as he struggled to speak the words. Speaking them would admit that this was real.

Jake nodded. “She’s dead.”

Rooster reluctantly nodded. Pain was evident on his face as he grasped the side railing of the ship. His knuckles were white as he looked out towards the waves. Jake could hear the distant sounds of the rescue helicopter’s blades whirring as it made its way back to the carrier.

“Yeah.. um, I’m gonna— I’m gonna go tell the others. I’m sorry, man. I know you two had a thing.” Rooster’s voice was soft as he placed a hand on Jake’s shoulder before he moved past him, leaving Jake to look over the ocean alone.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t cry. He didn’t curse her or the mission or any damn thing. He stood there silently, completely still, and looked at the distant waves.

The rescue helicopter landed too soon for Jake. As it powered down, a group gathered around it to embrace Bob as he clambered down from the helicopter. Jake stood off to the side, watching distantly as people cried and laughed. He watched Phoenix engulf Bob in a hug. He watched Maverick give Bob a pat on the back. He watched.

He watched as the group slowly disappeared as people went back to their stations or followed Bob as he made his way to the medbay. Now it was only Rooster, Maverick, and Jake watching the helicopter.

Jake approached now, his feet feeling too heavy as he slowly made his way to stand beside the two other men. Members of the rescue team were beginning to unload a gurney from the helicopter. Jake saw a piece of black material– and that’s when it became real. It was a body bag. She was in a body bag. He heard Rooster let out a choked sob as Jake turned.

He walked away, and he didn’t look back.

When they made it back to the mainland, her funeral was held too soon for Jake’s liking. It was another sign that this was real, and he was so desperately trying to avoid those signs. He was almost in denial, expecting to turn around and spot her, rolling her eyes at something he’d said.

He almost didn’t go. He didn’t want to be reminded of what had happened. But he did. He watched as they folded the flag and handed it to her sobbing mother and father. He watched as the coffin was lowered into the ground. He watched as her loved ones and teammates slowly left the grave, until he was the last one left.

“Damnit, Silver.” He whispered, kneeling down so that he was face to face with the white headstone. “You’ve always gotta beat me, huh?”

He sat there, falling silent as he thought. He didn’t even know why he was so affected by this– he hadn’t known her that deeply. He hadn’t been a close friend, like Rooster. He hadn’t been her backseater, like Bob. Hell, he was somewhat of an enemy to her until recently. Yet he was in almost absolute disrepair as he read the head stone over and over again.

Maybe it was because she was different. She wasn’t a fling, or a one night stand. He cared for her even though he hadn’t known her intimately for that long. She understood him; she challenged him. She called him out on his bullshit and wasn’t afraid to bite back. Ever since he had first met her, he’d been infatuated, and maybe that’s why he always had to tease her.

Maybe it was because he knew that she and he had shared something special, and that it was worth exploring, and it was taken too soon. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked out– but what if it had?

What if it had?

Jake wanted to kick himself. This wasn’t like him. He didn’t get hung up on women, but she was proving to be the exception. Even in death, she was the exception.

He stood and placed a hand on the top of the grave.

“Give ‘em hell, Silvs,” he whispered.

He turned then, walking away from the grave and what could’ve been.

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