#Whitney sparkles | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

little-golden-age · 1 year

Text

Double-Take | Bucky Barnes

DOUBLE TAKE📸 Photographer!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Your photographer boyfriend Bucky watches you doing your yoga routine one morning and gets ✨inspired✨

Word Count: ~1,800

Warnings: smut 18+ (minors DNI), Insatiable Bucky, Oral (f receiving) PinV, Praise Kink, Bucky being hot? idk. A/N: my first (and probably only) fic. I love reading domestic-ish Bucky fluff + smut. This concept popped into my head and I couldn’t find one to read, so I wrote one.

It was a crisp spring morning in Brooklyn. You had just finished making some tea to start the day when you noticed the warm light streaming in through the window. It was perfect out! You took a sip of your drink and sighed in contentment, making your way to your yoga mat spread out in the living room. You always enjoyed getting a morning stretch in. Maintaining a regular yoga practice helped to ease your mind and ground yourself to start the day. Your boyfriend, Bucky, rarely joined you in your movements but he loved your daily practice too, for slightly different reasons.

As you walked past the couch you greeted him with a soft peck. He watched intently as you lowered yourself onto the mat and began moving through cat and cow pose, golden light tracing over your curves. You were wearing that tight little short set that he loved and your hair was pulled back into a delicate braid, small wisps dusting beautifully over your temples. You looked angelic–especially from this angle.

“See something you like, Barnes?” Pausing your routine to look up at him. Your tone was flirty, soft eyes never leaving his as you maneuvered yourself into a particularly appealing pose. Hearing nothing in return but still feeling his eyes on you, you called out to him again. “Why don’t you take a picture Buck, it’ll last longer” you chimed sarcastically, but Bucky didn’t hesitate. Letting out a small chuckle, he quietly darted over to his camera collection, grabbing a small polaroid model off of the shelf. "Ask and you shall receive, darlin’.”

Bucky found photography as his creative outlet shortly before you met him. He loved describing his photographs to you, what attracted him to each subject. How one photo could capture a single moment in time but still tell a thousand stories all at once. Eventually, other galleries and media outlets caught onto his work too and it became his career. You were so proud of him, you loved his work. Sometimes you even joked that he loved his cameras more than he loved you but you both knew deep down that you were Bucky’s one true muse. A few of his portraits of you even made it into some galleries, but he kept a special collection of photos just for himself to look back on with fondness.

Bucky came bounding back into the room, camera in hand and you couldn’t help but giggle. His excitement was palpable and adorable, you figured you’d humor him for a while. Tracking him through side glances, you watched as he moved around your body slowly appreciating the shapes and curves you created with each pose. The faintest sheen of sweat causing your skin to sparkle in the morning sunlight.

There was always a satisfying sense of calm with Bucky. You felt comfortable with him from the day you met. After your first date walking through the exhibits at the Whitney, you two became inseparable. He showed you his favorite parts of the city, you kept him updated on arts and culture. Bucky’s friends became your friends, your friends adored him and after just a few months you decided to move in together, finding the perfect light-filled loft.

Throughout getting to know each other, and especially when christening your new place, you couldn’t help but notice that Bucky was particularly insatiable when it came to you. Ever the gentleman, your pleasure was important to him and he always treated your body like a work of art; which is why you were quick to notice the not-so-subtle bulge growing in his pants as you moved through a series of hip openers on your mat. You smiled to yourself, teasing him a little as you continued to work through your routine as if nothing was happening. You didn’t miss how his breath caught slightly when you twisted into a particularly suggestive position–Compass Pose, his favorite. It was over for him whenever you did it.

Unable to keep his hands to himself any longer, Bucky set his camera down and stepped closer to you. Kneeling behind you, he ran one hand along your thigh and grazed your exposed ankle with his lips, landing a soft kiss just above your achilles. “Buck.” You warned slyly, “You have that call with the gallery in 15 minutes, don’t start something you can’t finish, Barnes.”

You lowered your leg away from him with a wink but he simply wasn’t listening. Moving you onto your back, Bucky basically had you pinned now--exactly where you wanted him if you were being honest. Tongue jutting out to wet his lips as slate blue eyes zeroed in on your supple mouth, he leaned down until your noses nearly touched.

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart. You know--I bet I could devour your sweet little pussy right here on this mat and still be ready for that call in time.”

Your heart rate spiked as he looked right at you, pupils blown wide. You felt yourself clench around nothing as a tender silence fell over the room. A cocky grin that rivaled the cheshire cat spread across Bucky’s face as he advanced on you, fingers caressing your partially exposed thigh. “Are you going to be a good girl for me, hm? Let me make you feel good?”

You nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact as he pulled your soft shorts down your legs, planting kisses in his wake. Bucky’s eyebrow raised slightly as he noted your lack of underwear. Moving swiftly, his soft tongue finds your already dripping core, placing perfectly timed strokes up your folds and over your sensitive bud as you panted in ecstasy.

“Already so wet for me, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” Deep, powerful moans left Bucky’s mouth as you pulled at his hair rode his face, taking everything you had to give him.

“P-please Buck. More. Want t-to feel you.” you chanted breathlessly.

Bucky sat up, “Yeah baby?” He grinned slyly. “You feeling needy this morning, huh? Want my cock in you?” All you could do was nod as he moved you both up from your mat over to the couch, stopping briefly to pick something up off of the floor. Standing over you, Bucky moved his hand down your cheek, thumb finding its way past your full lips. With complete adoration in his eyes, he lifted the polaroid camera once more. Aiming the lens right at your blissed out face.

“Look here baby, right at me. That’s it. Look at you. My pretty girl, All mine.”

Sparks erupted from your core as he snapped away praising you as he worked. After a few more flashes, you were growing impatient. “Buck, please.” you whimper, reaching up for him “I n-need you now.”

He set the camera back down, smiling before placing a soft kiss on your palm and moving your hand to feel his aching length. “I got you baby, c’mere. Got me so fucking hard for you.” You watched with bated breath as he moved to toss his shirt aside and started on his pants. You swore you could watch him undress that beautiful body of his again and again, forever and ever, on repeat.

Your heart thumped hard in your chest and you felt yourself getting wetter as his thick cock came into view. Jerking himself slowly, he hovered down over you and ran his tip along your folds, teasing you a bit. “This what you needed, baby? Doing all of those slutty little poses, teasing me from across the room.” He spreads your thighs farther apart, getting another good look at your glistening folds. “So pretty,” he groans when he notices you smiling up at him, ready and willing to take his length.

He sinks into you slowly, filthy lips grazing over your ear as he uses all of his strength not to plow you with force. “GOD–y/n, you feel so fucking good. Made to take my cock.” He shudders, grabbing ahold of your hand tightly and giving you a moment to adjust to his size, making sure you take every inch of him.

He moves in and out of you with precision. Savoring every movement, feeling you inch closer to your edge when suddenly, it happens–he hits that perfect spot inside of your tight wet heat and feels you clench down immediately before gasping a strangled “ohgodyes, Buck–”

Bucky’s eyes meet yours and you can’t help but notice a fire alight inside of his pupils “Yeah, you like that?” He grins proudly.

“You gonna cum for me, angel? Squeezing me so hard” he chokes out. Sweat glistening off of your bodies, vulgar sounds and high-pitched moans creating a perfect melody along the walls of your apartment. The smell of sex wafting in the morning air. “Let go baby, show me how pretty you look when you cum all over my cock.”

Your peak hits you almost immediately, crashing through every muscle in your body as you fall deeper into ecstasy. You nearly squeal as Bucky suddenly flips you back into reality, moving you on top of him, fucking up into you from below. Oh, he’s extra insatiable today. You steady yourself as he slides a hand down your back and palms your ass, tapping once lightly then again, a little harder as you cry out, trying to meet him thrust for thrust.

“One more baby, come on. You can take it, you can take what I give you, yeah?” Bucky’s desperate now. You look down at him, wide-eyed but he’s too busy pawing your tits and pulling at your sensitive nipples. He’s not stopping until you’re both satisfied.

“Give me another. That’s a good girl. C’mon let me feel you sweetheart.”

His cool metal thumb finds your clit at the perfect moment as yet another orgasm rips through you. “B-Bu-Buck! Ohmygod!” Your hips move wildly as your pussy gushes and you lean down to nip at his shoulder, leaving little marks as Bucky begins to chase his own high.

“I know baby, I know. FUCK–You feel like heaven. Never want to leave this pussy. Hold onto me.” Your bodies sync up and you both come crashing down together. As your breathing slows, Bucky pulls you close and starts peppering kisses down your neck and chest. “Always such a good girl for me. Angel.” he lowers you onto the couch, holding your back into his chest as your lids fall heavy and you drift off into a pleasant haze of satisfaction.

You finally come to a minute later, feeling a pair of lips gently pressing against your temple. A lazy smile plastered to your face as you watch Bucky make his way over to the kitchen island, plucking his t-shirt off of the back of the couch and putting it on as he opens up his laptop and joins his work call.

“Sorry I’m a couple of minutes late guys, appreciate you waiting for me. I’m feeling really inspired this morning, so let’s get started!”

647 notes · View notes

makeyoumine69 · 1 year

Text

𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: When you accidentally violated Patrick Bateman's personal boundaries, your punishment was just a matter of time.

— CONTAINS: Flirting, teasing, semi-public oral sex (69), light bondage, nipple play, finger sucking, cum swallowing, spanking, Patrick has a dirty mouth, Praise kink, pet names.

— WORDCOUNT: 1.7k

— A/N: This is commission for my dear @r04dk1ll-w4nn4b3! I 'm so happy to be able to share it with you, I hope you like it! 💗

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] 🪓

Patrick Bateman was the kind of man who loved absolute perfectionism in everything. His apartment on Manhattan's Upper West Side was no exception. Every time you were there, you felt like you were in an art gallery, not to mention his super-modern audio system, which he loved to use.

Thrilled to be in his place, you were looking out the large window in his living room when you heard his soft footsteps behind you.

"Wanna listen to Whitney Houston's new tape, honey?" Patrick purred as he wrapped his hand around your waist. "I bought it today."

"Sure," you replied, covering his palm as it slid down your curvy hips. "I love your taste in music."

Bateman chuckled before pecking your cheek. "Only in music, huh?"

Smugly, he strolled away to turn on the stereo, and then Whitney Houston's amazing voice echoed through the living room.

"Man, her singing is outstanding!" You exclaimed, and your excitement made him grin.

"(Y/N), my dear, can you take glasses for you and me," he crooned playfully as he handed over a bottle of what must have been super expensive wine. "Tim recommended a new brand of wine, I want to try it."

After you nodded, you quickly went to the kitchen and started looking for the glasses you needed. When you noticed a half open cupboard, you couldn't fight your curiosity to sneak inside. Slowly, you turned around to make sure Patrick was not looking, and then you opened it completely, revealing all the stuff inside. When you saw a chainsaw, you couldn't hold back a loud gasp.

"Are you okay?" Bateman's anxiety resounded behind your back and after a few seconds he was already in the kitchen. "Dear..." Patrick stammered as he saw an open cupboard. "What are you doing here?"

"N-nothing, I was just looking for some glasses!"

"Aha," instead of scolding you he just giggled and looked at the chainsaw you couldn't stop staring at. "Do you like things like that?"

"Excuse me?" You stepped back a little, especially when he ran his finger along the metal part of the chainsaw.

"You're so curious, I love it," he suddenly blurted out before closing the cupboard and pulling you into a passionate kiss. "Let's go back to the living room and finally taste the wine."

Possessively, Patrick turned you around and made you move forward, his dark eyes sparkling dangerously as you headed out of the kitchen.

A few days later, Patrick invited you to Craig McDermott's party at his family's big house, which Bateman didn't really find fancy, so you couldn't really understand why he'd brought you here at all; not to mention that he was acting a little... strange almost the whole evening?

"There you are!" you nearly spilled your drink at his sudden voice. "I've been looking for you, my dear."

With a soft smile, you turned around as you felt his strong arms glide across your back. "Did you miss me already?"

"Of course!"

Damn, his full-teeth smile always made you feel things, especially when he touched you like that - barely sensible, only to tease you.

"I thought, maybe we can escape this party for a while?" Bateman whispered in your ear, his large palm already outlining the shape of your cute butt. "My curious little girl..."

His low growl was accompanied with a slight pinch on your ass, which caused your legs to tremble from a sudden surge of heat.

"Uhh, you're such a tease!" You replied, breathing heavily.

Without saying anything, Patrick just looped his arm around your waist and gestured for you to follow him; you were a little scared but excited because this man was always so fucking unpredictable.

Later, the two of you went upstairs, kissing and cradling each other all the way to what was supposed to be a guest room.

"P-Patrick," you gasped and shivered as he started to attack your neck the moment you entered the room. "You didn't close the door?"

As soon as you asked that question, Patrick let out a raspy grunt and pushed you onto the bed behind you. "Why should I?"

His eyes glowed with lust as he saw a hint of fear on your beautiful face.

"What's the matter, my dear?" he advanced on you, his huge frame lilting with each step. "Get over here, sweetheart…I wanna play with you."

Squawking, you tried to move away from him, but he grabbed your legs and pulled you closer, slipping under your skirt to reveal your black panties.

"WAIT!" you whimpered in a mild panic, afraid someone would get in. "Patrick..." a muffled moan fell from your dry lips as you felt his tongue on your inner thigh. "W-why can't you wait till we get home?"

Bateman burst out laughing and spread your legs wider as you continued to resist him. "You know, I thought you liked the thrill of being caught..." he cooed to you as his long fingers pulled at your underwear, the friction against your feverish clit making you jerk and moan. "Ohh, what was that?"

"Mmm, Patrick..." your face burned from the inside as he did it again, tugging harder on your panties, rubbing your sensitive bud through the wet fabric. "What... what if someone comes in?"

"I'm sure anyone who comes in will be pleased with the scene they see," Patrick groaned and licked your pussy through your underwear, sending shivers down your spine, "Now be a good girl and take your punishment as you’re supposed to."

Shocked, you stopped everything and looked at him. "Punishment for what?"

"For your curiosity, of course," Bateman snickered and turned you, so that your head hung over the edge of the bed. "You know the expression 'curiosity killed the cat'?"

With that, Patrick unbuckled his belt and then his pants, your heavy breathing filling the room faster than you could even notice. Huffing, you wanted to protest again, but he didn't let you as he slid two fingers into your mouth. Amused, Bateman admired the way you twitched on the bed as he pushed his digits further down your throat, nearly choking you, while his other hand unfastened his tie only to wrap it around your wrists.

"Fuck, that mouth certainly craves more," Patrick murmured, pulling your top down, so he could cup your small shapely breast. "Good, good...keep sucking my fingers."

"Mmhm," you mewled around his digits, taking them as deep as you could. "A-awww, Gos-shhh!"

An electric shock ran through your trembling body as you sensed his warm mouth around your hard nipple, the way his strong tongue teased your tender flesh taking you so high.

"Jesus, you're so kinky," his raspy growl induced the tight knot in your lower abdomen to pulse. "Ahhh, you like the things I do to you?"

"Yes...P-Patrick..." you hiccuped as he placed his knee on the bed and began to lower himself, licking all the way down to your pubic bone. "Mmm..." Bateman kissed your mound briefly before moving your panties aside and sucking on your sensitive nub.

"Shit, you taste so delicious, my dear," he hummed, his face buried between your legs while he stroked himself to keep his dick hard. "'C'mon, I wanna drink all of your sweet juices."

Shaking, you moaned louder as he pulled his fingers out of your wet mouth, your saliva dripping down your chin. Right now, you didn't really care that someone could hear you, his tongue didn't give you a chance to save your clarity.

"Patrick...p-please, ahh!" you almost sobbed as he tongue fucked you, licking your soft inner walls and holding your hips wide open. "Ahh!"

"Imagine someone coming in, right now!" Patrick husked after tugging on your swollen clit with a nasty popping sound that almost made you cum. "Show me how you can use that pretty mouth of yours..."

First, Bateman began to draw his thick cock against your wet lips, then he bent down and made you lapping at his heavy sac. A primal growl escaped his broad chest as you took his balls almost completely in your mouth and sucked them with all the passion you had.

"F-fuck, yes...mmm," he moaned and then dived back between your legs to continue devouring your succulent pussy. "Good girl, arghh-so fucking good!"

Patrick was losing control with every pitiful moan you made, his hips thrusting hard into your face, literally pinning you against the bed. Fuck, people outside the room would definitely hear your miserable whimpering as you were about to gag from how deep he was fucking your mouth.

"Mmghm!" You kicked your legs in the air as your lungs burned from the need for oxygen.

Even when he allowed you to rest and breathe, Bateman was still grinding against your face, his pulsating dick brushing along your wet cheek as he was so damn close while his tongue toyed your little tip.

"Pat....Patrick!" Your voice cracked as you felt a burning sensation on your ass as his big palm mercilessly slapped it.

God, this was already too much for you, but then this bastard decided to nip at your sore clit and you thought you were going to pass out from the crazy mixture of pain and bliss.

"Go ahead, honey," he growled against your slit, squeezing your hip almost to the red marks on your soft skin. "I want to feel that tight little pussy throb on the tip of my tongue!"

"Aaahh...I can't...can't take it anymore...MMM!" you yelped as your climax washed over you like a tsunami. "A-wwww...GOSH!”

Bateman could listen to your high-pitched cries for an eternity, and he didn't care if the whole house could hear you at that moment as he slurped at your lascivious pussy, because he didn't want to waste a single drop of your delicious flavor.

Still shaking, you let him bottom your bruised mouth once again and Patrick was face fucking you almost savagely without any mercy until he reached his peak as you milked his aching cock so perfectly, literally drowning in his hot cum but you swallowed all of it like a good girl was supposed to.

I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

262 notes · View notes

e-dubbc11 · 8 months

Text

Under the Pale Moonlight

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Supporting characters: Frank Castle, James Wesley, and Wilson Fisk

Warnings: Swearing, violence, guns, knives, and fluff.

Word Count: 4.2k-ish

Summary: Billy is unhinged, you’ve been taken and being held for ransom. He will not rest until you are found and he can bring you home safe, and you feel sorry for anyone who gets in his way

A/N: Based off of a little conversation between @qu1etwolf and myself. She said she would like to see me try and write something with Billy and his violent like tendencies but I still wanted fluffy elements to it. It’s a bit dramatic but I’m pretty pleased with what I did here and I hope you enjoy it!

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

That night was cloudless and quiet at first.

The sky was so clear, you could see just about every crater of the moon and the stars that were sprinkled behind it sparkled like diamonds under fluorescent lights. From far away, you could hear the occasional dog barking that cut through the silence and you could see the dark shadows of the autumn foliage swaying in the gentle winds.

The musky sweet fragrance of fallen leaves danced across your nose while the cool breeze enveloped you as you walked down the street…alone.

He told you he hated when you walked alone…anywhere…any time of day. Billy didn’t like it if you went anywhere by yourself.

“You worry too much, baby. I’ll be fine.” You had said with a warm smile.

Famous last words.

When you came to, your head hurt and your body was resting on a metal floor, the empty space was completely dark, without windows, and every noise you made echoed throughout the room. It sounded like you were inside of a shipping container.

You weren’t bound or restrained in any way but you were scared and convinced that this had something to do with a deal that your father didn’t want to make involving the company he worked for.

Pratt and Whitney built aircraft engines and while your father didn’t own the company, he was responsible for bringing deals to the table. They build engines for civil aviation and military aviation and when your father declined a business offer, it was for a good reason.

Not too long ago, he had told you about a man coming to see him that wanted to do business and would not take no for an answer and you were convinced that it was someone involved with this man that was holding you captive.

But you didn’t know how far they were willing to go, to get what they wanted.

**********

He let out a yell that could probably be heard by people outside the building on the streets below.

His office was completely destroyed.

Fragments of shattered glass decorated the floor, his laptop landed upside down in the corner of the room, the cracked mirror and the broken picture frames were also casualties of the war zone inside Billy’s office. With his gun in one hand and your picture in the other, he stared down at your smiling face trying to figure out what his next move was going to be.

He needed to find you and was ready to burn the world down if it meant he could find you faster. Billy finally found love, someone who loved him but didn’t put up with his shit, someone that put him in his place when it was necessary, and someone that told him it was ok to let go. You said you would never leave, never abandon him, and he trusted you.

But you were gone, taken someplace that he had no idea where. He wasn’t going to rest until you were found, until HE found you. Billy needed you to be safe in his arms where you belonged and he wasn’t going to let anyone take you away from him.

Still holding the frame with your picture in it, he smashed the glass and removed it to put in his jacket pocket. Billy holstered his weapon and headed for the office door where he was cut off on the other side by Frank.

“Outta my way, Frankie. Now.” He said, rage dripping from his lips.

Frank held up a hand to try and stop him from leaving.

“She’s high profile, Bill. The FBI said they were handling it.” Frank said.

“Oh come on, Frankie! Those corrupt assholes couldn’t find their way out of a wet paper bag let alone find her! I should have been more insistent that she not walk alone and I’m gonna kill every single one of them, Frank. Every…single…one.” Said Billy.

The icy tone to his voice and his mouth twisted with threat let Frank know that Billy was serious. He didn’t care who he had to kill, he was going to find you and leave a trail of bodies behind him while he did it.

“I can’t stop you, can I Bill.” Frank said.

Billy’s eyes darkened and his lips curled back to reveal clenched teeth.

“You know me, Frankie. You think anyone’s gonna be able to stop me? Especially when it comes to her?” Growled Billy.

Frank looked into Billy’s eyes, they shined with unshed tears as he grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Well let’s go get her then, yeah?” Frank said with one side of his mouth curled up into a half smile. “You have a place to start?”

“Her father had a business card from the guy that came to his office wanting to make a deal, willing to pay cash, classic red flag. The card had an address on it. He said it sounded like the same guy demanding the engines in exchange for y/n.” Billy said.

Frank scoffed. “Pfft, not too bright is he. Well I think Lieberman can get her last known location before her phone went dead, so I’ll go to David’s and you go to that address, yeah?”

“Yeah, lemme know what you find out.” Billy said.

**********

They finally had enough of listening to you bang on the walls and call out for help. It took awhile but the doors opened, the early morning sun peeked through the crack in the door, they came inside and tied your arms and legs. They put a piece of tape over your mouth as well so they wouldn’t have to listen to you anymore.

The harder your struggled to free yourself, the tighter the ropes had become and you didn’t want to expel all of your energy. What did they want?

And why did they want aircraft engines? While he had more than enough money for the engines, he was a civilian and civilians don’t require large engines like that and your father could see right through that so he told them no.

They had also taken your watch.

It was completely dark inside the shipping container so you wouldn’t be able to see the time no matter how hard you tried but they took it from you anyway. It was the watch Billy had given you for Christmas last year, the one that he had engraved “Until the end of time. Love, Billy.”

You managed a slight smile with the tape over your mouth thinking about what he said when he gave it to you. When you looked at the engraving, he said, “It was between this and ‘nice butt’,” which caused you to burst out laughing.

You loved him so much.

There weren’t many things in this world that frightened you but you were very scared that you would never get to see Billy’s face again. It terrified you to think you would never get to look into his endless brown eyes again, lovingly scrape your nails against his scalp, or tell him that you loved him and to hear him say it back.

You needed to be in his arms again, to have his body be a warm cradle for yours, and for his soft lips to kiss you goodnight before you fall asleep.

You wanted it all back, you wanted him…forever. And he needed to know that.

**********

When he wanted to be, Billy could be very quiet. He was so light on his feet, sometimes you had no idea he was even in the same room until you turned around to see his handsome face smiling at you, then laughing because he scared you.

That skill came in handy when it was needed. When he arrived at the address on the business card, he didn’t know what to expect so he drew his weapon and went inside the building.

Slinking down hallways and creeping around corners, he checked the building from top to bottom and found everything he expected to find…which was nothing.

The building was empty.

At some point it had been occupied but looking around him, there hasn’t been any activity inside of the building in a long time. It was just an address. But who owned the building?

He needed to get back, tell Frank what he found, and to see if David had any luck finding the last location of your phone.

**********

You heard men arguing outside but you could only make out bits and pieces of the conversation.

“He said he wanted her moved.” One of them said.

Then you heard a different voice. “Well where are we going to move her?”

You heard the first voice again. “He doesn’t care where, just move her. She probably has to go to the bathroom anyway.”

That voice sounded familiar…”He doesn’t care where…”

It was killing you not knowing who “HE” was. Who could it be? And that voice, where have you heard that voice before?

Also, how considerate of them, you thought sarcastically to yourself…you hadn’t had anything to drink in hours so you didn’t really have to go. You didn’t even know how long you had been locked inside.

More talking…

“I cannot believe you didn’t get rid of her phone until you brought her here. Her boyfriend owns the best private security company in the city. You better hope they don’t track her phone or I’ll kill you myself.”

Before they tied you up, you had removed your jacket and tossed it into the corner. If they planned on moving you, hopefully they would be dumb enough to leave your jacket where it is so Billy could find it.

You felt it in your heart that he was out looking for you and when he does find you, he was never going to let you walk alone again.

**********

“The name, Bill. What was the name on the business card?” Frank asked.

Billy pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, concentrating really hard trying to remember the name your father told him was on the card.

“Wesley…James Wesley.” Said Billy. “Y/n’s father also said that they don’t want money, they want those engines. And why does that name sound so familiar, Frankie?”

Frank pressed his lips together in a straight line then hung his head before glancing at Billy again.

“Because he works for HIM, Bill. He works for Wilson Fisk…Kingpin.” Frank said softly.

Billy ran his long fingers through his ebony colored hair, hell burned behind his dark doll like eyes, and he had the acid burn of bitterness in his throat as he said, “Well then he’ll be the final body on top of the pile. She has nothing to do with this and he took her from me, Frankie and he’s gonna pay for it. They’re all gonna pay, so please tell me David found where her phone was last.”

He stared at Frank while putting his gear on and removed the picture of you from his suit jacket pocket to stash it behind his vest. Billy was ready to take out anyone who got in his way including the authorities.

“He did…down by the water where the cargo ships come in. Might be holding her in one of those shipping containers…told ya they’re not too bright. And you know I’m comin’ with you, yeah?” Said Frank.

Billy shook his head furiously.

“No, no, no, I can’t ask you to do that. You have a family, Frankie. I can’t let you risk yourself for me.” Billy said.

“And you’re part of that family, Bill so you’re not goin’ by yourself. Gimme some of that untraceable Russian ammo that I know you have and let’s go bring her home.” Frank said with a slight smirk.

“I love her, Frankie.” Billy said with a slight hitch in his voice.

“Well, let’s go so you can tell her instead of me.”

**********

They arrived at the pier under the cover of the clouded night sky. The ethereal glow of the moon peeked out briefly from behind the clouds before completely disappearing on the other side of the fluffy clouds.

The steady wind picked up a little faster down by the water as they stealthily moved through the cargo yard when they came upon a chair that had been turned over and the rocks underneath their feet had been disturbed. It looked like someone had been dragged from one of the containers, close to where the chairs were turned over.

“The door’s open, Bill…go check inside.” Frank whispered.

With his flashlight on, Billy stepped inside. You weren’t there but in the back corner, he saw some kind of black fabric rolled into a ball. It looked like it was hastily thrown there. When he picked it up, it unfolded and he recognized it immediately. Smiling slightly to himself, Billy knew you had left it for him to find.

“I’m coming, sweet girl.” He whispered to himself.

Frank stuck his head inside. “Russo, you find anything?” He asked.

Billy held out your jacket so Frank could see it. “She left it for me, Frankie.”

“The drag marks go that way.” Frank pointed in the direction they were already headed toward. “They probably didn’t move her too far…maybe in one of those buildings across the way.”

They suddenly heard some rocks shuffle along the ground, Billy and Frank turned and fired in the direction of the noises hitting two men right between the eyes. Billy didn’t even blink, he just continued walking, not bothered at all, and was careful not to leave any evidence behind.

Carnage was the only thing Billy left behind and Fisk was smart enough to scatter his men throughout the shipyard so Billy and Frank would have to check every building.

He prowled like a jungle cat, slitting their throats with his hidden blade, one right after the other, not looking back and moving on even before the body hit the ground.

Billy’s expression was blank, completely zoned out and he would not come back to reality until you were safe. Even Frank had a hard time getting through to him.

As he got closer to another building, Billy heard voices. He heard a woman’s voice, your voice. He listened intently as you spoke.

“What do you want the engines for, Mr. Wesley? You know my father is only responsible for bringing deals to the table and he’s not in charge of making deals himself, right?” You said with a sinister smile stretched across your lips.

“My employer knows that yes, Ms. Y/l/n. But we’ve tied his hands and yours.” He said with an evil smirk. “The man I work for wants to build his own planes for his spice import/export business.”

“Well if that doesn’t sound shady as fuck, I don’t know what does. You are even dumber than you look, Mr. Wesley.” You said. “Pratt and Whitney isn’t going to sell engines like that to a civilian. My father doesn’t care how much money you throw at them.”

The door opened and you heard a deep shaky voice coming from around the corner. “I think your father will do whatever it takes to get you back.”

Wilson Fisk came into view. He walked around the table and stood next to Wesley who was sitting across from you at a long table.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Fisk but I know my father isn’t going to give you what you want and I know that you’re not going to kill me because if I’m dead, you have no other bargaining chips.” You said.

Fisk gave you an evil smile. “You know who I am.”

“Of course I know who you are.”

**********

Outside were a couple of large SUV’s and they had some of Fisk’s men inside which Billy and Frank took care of, almost a little too easily. But Fisk didn’t know what kind of marines he was dealing with. They were trained to be silent, anticipate moves by the enemy, and to kill with zero hesitation.

Billy was covered in blood, his black clothing had a bright red sheen to it when the dim lights from overhead shined down on to it, and the front of his vest was slick with all of their blood. He acted like it wasn’t even there, like it was just a part of his gear, and if Billy had the time, he would have tortured and tormented all of them.

He would have done it slowly and with precision, to make them feel as much pain as possible for what they had done. They were just doing what they were ordered to do but that didn’t matter to Billy.

You always have a choice in life and they chose to do this, they chose to work for HIM. They took you away from him and now they had paid the price…all of them.

Frank and Billy left no survivors, they didn’t let any of them go, not even one to warn Fisk they were coming for him. They were left to bleed out on to the gravel beneath them, the tiny pebbles were painted red with their blood as it pooled under their throats where they fell.

Billy would make sure the last two would never leave the shipyard alive.

**********

“That’s it. Keep them talkin’, sweet girl.” Billy said in barely more than a whisper.

Close to Billy’s ear, Frank said, “She has a smart mouth, Bill. I can see why you love her so much.”

Fisk started to speak again.

“You think your boyfriend is out looking for you? Hmmm?” He said.

You touched your tongue to your teeth and gave him a sinister grin. “I know what you want me to say, Mr. Fisk. But you’re not gonna get it. What I am gonna tell you is that my guess is you kidnapping me is high profile to the FBI and as soon as they find their way out of that wet paper bag they seem to be stuck in, they’ll be searching for me. Sending Mr. Wesley in to talk to my father was just dumb on your part. You didn’t even try to make it sound legit.” You said with a laugh.

Frank chuckled. “You two really are made for each other.”

You could tell Wilson Fisk was starting to get angry.

“I have people all over this shipyard! I doubt they can’t handle ONE marine!” He yelled across the table.

“I’m sure Billy is waiting patiently for that phone call to come in to tell him that I have been found unharmed.” You said in a sarcastic and teasing tone. “He would never EVER get in the way of authority figures.”

Fisk made a motion like he was going to walk over and strike you when a figure dressed in all black shattered the flimsy glass by diving through the window.

Before Wesley could pull out his gun, the figure moved in front of you and pushed you away from the table when two shots came from the window. One bullet went into Wesley’s head, the other into Fisk’s chest and he collapsed onto the ground.

Clutching his chest, Fisk looked up at the figure who just shot him and they pulled the hood up away from their face.

It was Billy.

“I wanted you to see my face as I watch the life drain from yours.” Billy growled.

Coughing up blood, Fisk managed to ask, “H-how?”

Billy flashed that perfect smile of his but he had an evil twist behind it. He ejected the blade from his wrist and inched closer to Fisk’s face before opening his throat and twisting the blade so the wound wouldn’t close.

“How?” Billy asked. “You took what is most precious to me in this world, you took what was MINE. And you fucked with the wrong marines.” He hissed.

Billy removed the blade from Fisk’s neck and watched as his blood pooled on the floor underneath him and the light faded from his eyes.

Frank lifted his mask.

“You ok, sweetheart?” He asked, trying to catch his breath.

“You came for me too, Frank?” You asked.

“Of course I did. I wasn’t gonna let Bill do this by himself.” He said, cutting your hands loose. “I tell ya what, kid. I’m surprised he didn’t try and hit you before I jumped through the window, you have a mouth on you.” He said with a smirk.

Billy rushed to your side and fell to his knees. “You alright, sweet girl?!” He pulled you into a tight embrace, so tight that it made it hard to breathe and kissed the top of your head.

“I’m ok, Billy. Really, I am. Only slightly traumatized, I think.” You said with a warm smile.

Billy’s lips collided with yours, his long slender fingers tangled in your hair as he planted kisses all over your forehead and your cheeks before wrapping his fingers around your throat like a necklace and softly kissing your lips again.

“I love you…so much.” He said, his onyx colored eyes gazed at you like he hasn’t seen you in a week.

Tears pricked the back of your eyes and one streaked down your cheek before he brushed it away with his thumb. “I love you too, Billy.”

“I hate to break this up, but we gotta get outta here.” Said Frank.

On the way back, Frank and Billy told you exactly what to say when you walk into the police station. Billy held you close in the back seat while Frank drove, his heart was racing, and you felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest against the side of your face.

He came for you and killed everyone that got in his way, including the Kingpin of New York City. The rage in his eyes died down and the tension in his body relaxed as soon as he held you in his arms again. You were back with him, where you belonged, and if he had to, he would do it all again without hesitation.

Billy valued your life more than he valued his own, he loved you more than anything, and he would take on the entire city if it meant you would stay safe.

He flashed that perfect smile at you after he kissed you goodbye. You weren’t even gone for very long but you missed that smile and wondered if you were ever going to see it again.

“I’ll be back to get you and you’re never walking by yourself ever again.” He said with a wink.

No one has ever shown you the kind of love Billy has and he’s never known love by anyone which is why you always made it a point to tell him every day how much you loved him, how you felt safe with him, and how you would never abandon him like so many others had done before.

His chin rested on top of your head in the back of the car, as his fingers danced up and down your arm, soothing you and telling you he’d never let anyone hurt you again.

You didn’t want to but you had to tell him.

“Billy?”

“Yeah baby?” He answered.

“They took my watch…the one you gave me for Christmas.” You had said.

Billy kissed the top of your head. “I’ll get you a new one, my love.”

You leaned back to look up at him through your long dark lashes and pulled him in close to your face and gently kissed him.

“Until the end of time, Billy?” You whispered.

He just smiled his million dollar smile at you and replied, “Until the end of time, sweet girl.”

Before going inside the station, you paused on the sidewalk and looked up at the sky, painted black and navy with the moon cast behind the clouds. Tears welled up in your eyes because just a few hours ago, you weren’t certain you would ever see the sky again and you were incredibly thankful to be alive.

You weren’t sure the sun would ever kiss the high points of your face again or see the person you loved most that would rather watch the world burn than live without you in it.

Under the pale moonlight, you closed your eyes, and inhaled sharply. The lingering smell of salt from the shipyard still fresh as you took a deep breath in through your nose and then exhaling, watching your warm breath meet the crisp autumn air outside.

You took in the familiar city scents that you never wanted to take for granted again, fresh coffee, warm toasted almonds, and pizza slices hot from the oven. The sounds of broken bottles hitting the sidewalk, car alarms, and ambulance sirens were all music to your ears.

You were alive because he fought for you…and won.

Stepping inside the police station, you saw uniforms everywhere, they were carrying papers, rushing past you, and not giving you a second look before one stopped, looked at your disheveled appearance, and asked, “Are you alright miss?”

You stood up straight, nodded, and replied.

“Yes…I’d like to report a kidnapping. And a bunch of dead bodies.”

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @idek-what-to-put @anastasianeedstoread @ratsys @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo x female reader #frank castle

129 notes · View notes

jamdoughnutmagician · 7 months

Text

A Cut Above The Rest

Mechanic!Eddie x Fem!Hairdresser!Reader

Saving All My Love For You (Part 8)

Summary:Following the events at Steve's Halloween party, Eddie takes you back to his place for a bit of peace and quiet.

Word Count:1, 883

<- Previous Part Next Part ->

Masterlist Series Masterlist

You make your goodbyes, letting Robin know that Eddie’s taking you home. Profusely apologising about the way the evening had gone, and graciously thanking Steve for dealing with Jacob.

"No, no you don’t have to apologise, it wasn’t your fault.” Steve comforts you. “..And you won't have to worry about him for a long time." Steve reassures you with a calming hand on your shoulder. "Police chief Hopper owes me a favour anyway."

You wipe away the wet tear streak that had fallen down your cheek, smiling with nod as you thank Steve once more.

“Hey,” Eddie says softly, laying a soft touch to your shoulder. “You ready to go?”

“Yes, please.” you nod.

You find yourself cruising down the road, sitting beside Eddie in his van, when suddenly you remember that Robin was the one with the keys to the apartment. You hadn't yet had your own copy of her keys, cursing yourself for forgetting that fact.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry, if you want, I can drive you back to my place?” Eddie offers sweetly.

“No, no, I wouldn’t want to impose on you, I mean; I’ve already torn you away from the party, you shouldn’t have to also deal with me unloading all my baggage on you like this." You sigh, running a hand through your hair.

"You would never be imposing, not with me, and it's not baggage, it's just your past. Everyone's got a story, everyone’s got their own shit to deal with, and you don’t have to go through it alone, y’know, I’ll be there to hold your hand, if you want me that is.” he tells you. “You’re coming home with me, plus it’d make me feel a lot better to know that you were somewhere safe.” he admits, driving past Robin’s apartment, and towards his home.

“Thanks Eddie, that’s really sweet of you to say.” You smile, despite the few tears that threaten to spill from your eyes.

“Hey hey..no more of that..okay?” He says softly. “How about we put on some music, yeah?”

“I’d like that, please.”

Eddie reaches down into the little collection of cassette tapes that he keeps by the van’s gearshift, his eyes never leaving the road as he pops the tape into the van’s cassette player.

“How do you know which tape you’re even putting in there?” you ask him

“Oh, I know which one it is, trust me.” he replies with an air of confidence.

The slow start of Whitney Houston’s Saving All My Love For You pours out from the speakers. Did he just know that this was your favourite song? Or was he purposely trying to impress you?

Though I've tried to resist being last on your list

But no other man's gonna do

So I'm saving all my love for you.

“You know, I didn’t have Eddie Munson, Hawkins’ resident metal-head, down as a secret Whitney Houston fan.” you lightly tease.

“I’ve come to develop an admiration of her music ever since a certain someone I know gave me this very mix-tape with this song on it in high school.” he tells you, his brown eyes sparkling as they flicked over to you.

“Wait..you’re telling me that this is the mixtape I gave you in ‘85? You still have it after all this time?” You stutter.

Ten years ago you worked up the courage enough to give the cute, fuzzy-haired metal-head in your English class a mix-tape, you would never have imagined that he would still be holding on to it all these years later.

“What can I say? When the prettiest girl in all of the school takes the time to give me a carefully selected mixtape, I take that very seriously.” He explains. “Y’know, I was going to ask you to come see us play in The Hideout when you came up to me that day, but I chickened out. Nerves got the better of me I guess.”

“I always thought you were cute, Eddie. Even back in high school.” you shyly admit to him as you lay your hand over his where it rests on the gearshift of his van. "I'd have gone anywhere with you."

It didn’t take very long before Eddie was pulling into the driveway of Forest Hills trailer park, his van rolling to a slow stop beside a small trailer on the edge of the park.

He rushes around to your side of the van to open the door for you, taking you by the hand to ease you out of your seat and lead you towards the quaint trailer.

“I’m sorry it’s nothing compared to Harrington’s palace, but it’s humble and it’s home.” he tells you, holding the trailer’s door open for you.

"Eddie, you don’t have to apologise for where you live. It’s a very nice home.” you tell him as you follow in behind him.

"Yeah I moved out of the old trailer into this one, to give my uncle a bit of space, whilst still being close enough if he needs me for anything."

You look around the space in which you find yourself, it’s modestly decorated, nothing too fancy or particularly garish. You find yourself drawn to the few small figurines that sit on a shelf in his living room.

“Painted them myself.” he smiles proudly, nodding towards the figures. “They’re for D&D.”

“Oh yeah, I remember, you used to be the head of the school’s dungeons and dragons club.”

“Yeah, Hellfire was my baby.” He laughs a little at the memory. “I never did get you to sign my yearbook, did I?”

“I could do it now, for you, if you like?” you offer shyly.

“Really?”

“Yeah come on, it could be fun, I could write some silly little message in there for you!”

“Alright then, just give me a minute, let me see if I can find it, and let me give you something a little more comfortable to wear, Morticia.” he says, his eyes raking over the way the clingy velvet material of your dress hugs your curves. "You gonna be alright for a while?" He checks in with you.

"Yeah I'll be fine, take your time."

You sit with yourself a minute before you hear Eddie stumbling back into the room. He’s already changed out of his pirate costume, although you can still see a faint smudge of black liner under his lashes where he’s tried to clean his face. He’s wearing a faded Black Sabbath t-shirt and a pair of loose fitting black and red plaid pyjama pants.

“Here, you can get changed into these, hopefully you should be more comfortable.” he says, throwing a bundle of clothes your way. “Bathroom’s down there and the left.” he says pointing down the hall.

“Thanks Ed.” you smile gratefully.

You take the bundle of clothes and make your way into the bathroom to change.

You wrangle yourself out of the tight constraints of your Halloween costume, and slip into the warm comfort of the baggy Metallica t-shirt and chequered boxers, and clean your face of the makeup you'd been wearing as best you can, before making your way back into the living room where Eddie is.

"Hey! I found my old yearbook!" He cheers, before turning his head around to see you dressed in his clothes. His heart is caught in his throat as he sees you. You look so adorable like this, so much so that Eddie couldn't help but let his mind wander to the thought of what if it was always like this. He suddenly saw his whole life ahead of him, and there wasn't a single moment without you in it. His girl.

Just like two people who always belonged together.

"Is this seat taken?" You chuckle, nodding to the empty space on the couch.

“It’s all yours.” He smiles back at you, allowing you to plop down next to him.

Eddie thumbs open the yearbook on his lap.

“Class of ‘86, huh? What a year that was!” He chuckles reminiscently.

“..And look at that..” you start, pointing your finger to the little picture of Eddie in his yearbook. “..Voted most likely to become a rockstar!” you smile.

“Well I’m not a rockstar yet, Sweetheart.” He chimes.

You suppress the urge to break into a beaming grin at the way the affectionate pet name so easily fell from his lips.

“Key word being ‘yet’, you’ll get there soon, and when you do, I’ll be right there, in the crowd, cheering you on!” you tell him as you lean your shoulder into his.

Eddie preens under your praises, with a pink flush spreading out from his cheeks. Your words warming his heart from the inside out.

You reach your hand out to the side table next to you, where a box of pens stand next to a rotary phone and a stack of post-it notes.

“May I?” you ask, pen-in-hand, nodding towards his yearbook. “You did say I never got the chance to sign it.”

Eddie hands over the book to you, watching you as you carefully scribble a message on the back pages of his book before closing it shut and handing it back to him.

He takes the book from you before going to open it up to read your message only for your hands to reach out and stop him in his tracks.

“No! You can’t read it now! You’ve gotta read it when I’m not here!”

“Alright, I’ll save it for later.” He nods.

You suddenly feel a wave of tiredness come over you as you try your best to stifle a yawn behind your hand. The dramatics at Steve's party were now starting to take its toll on you.

"You feeling sleepy?" Eddie asks, as he feels you leaning into him a bit more than you were before.

You mumble a quiet "yes" with a subtle nod of your head.

"Come on, you can sleep in my bed tonight." Eddie says, and before you can even protest he's helping you into the warmth of his bed's blankets, hushing your worries about being an imposition.

“I told you, you’re not imposing, I’m offering.” He assures you as he leaves you to get comfortable in his room, before going to make up the couch for him to sleep on.

“Eddie, where are you going?” You call out to him before he can leave.

“I was gonna give you some space, sleep on the couch.” he explains.

“Eddie..” you sigh. “This is your bed, you should get to sleep in it too. There’s plenty of room for two people.” you say as you open up the sheets for him to get under.

He makes his way over to you, slotting himself next to you under the warmth of his duvet.

You tentatively snuggle yourself into him, your arms wrapping around his middle.

“Is this okay?” you ask, glad of the darkness flooding in from his window to hide the heat of your embarrassment.

Eddie wastes no time in doing the same, by wrapping his arms around you to bring you close to him.

“Sweetheart, It’s more than okay.” He smiles, laying a sweet kiss to the crown of your head. “Now get some sleep, and I’ll be here for you in the morning.”

@penguinsandpotterheads @slutty-thevampireslayer @xxhellfirebunnyxx @mmunson86 @avalon-wolf @ali-r3n @jesssssmaybankk @munsonology

#Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x Female Reader #Eddie Munson x reader fluff #Eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #Eddie Munson x reader fic #Eddie Munson series

76 notes · View notes

waltwhitmansbeard · 8 months

Text

Perc'ahlia Week: Free/Random

we did it folks! thanks to everyone who participated in @percahliaweek, esp the good folks who organized this whole thing! it's been so much fun to explore these prompts! here's hoping i stick the landing.

Percival de Rolo III wakes up on his last day knowing that he will not see another dawn. It hardly scares him; if anything, his aching joints have been screaming for rest for ages now, each one creaking and stiff like an unwound clock. He doesn't know where the certainty comes from, only that it doesn't feel macabre or fatalistic. He is going to die today. Better get a move on.

He doesn't begrudge Vex'ahlia's stubborn insistence that he's fine. He doesn't begrudge Vex'ahlia's stubborn anything. He lets her perform her morning ritual as usual, lies still as she grips one of his hands in both of hers and pours into him every ounce of magic she has for the day. The healing doesn't work, because he is not injured, merely human. Still, he smiles and thanks her, and they both pretend that it made things better.

Over breakfast in bed (all of his breakfasts are in bed these days, as are all of his other meals, and in fact the vast majority of his time), he quietly asks her to gather their family. She freezes, her forkful of eggs halfway up to her mouth. His vision is not what it used to be, but she is so beautiful, the golden rays of Pelor's dawn sparkling in her hair, now more silver than brown. She has always glittered, something beautiful and wild, a dragon who made a hoard of his heart.

She sets her fork down. She does not look at him. She asks if he's sure. He says that he is. She believes him, because after seven decades, she knows he is not a liar. It is a feat, the way she schools her expression into something that doesn't shatter his heart in two. She smiles and kisses his cheek. "Of course, darling."

They come, because for the past year or so, they have been preparing themselves for this very thing. Keyleth is called first, and she takes it upon herself to gather the most far-flung. Percy misses most of their arrivals; his energy wanes quickly after breakfast, and he passes in and out of sleep until a pair of lips on his cheek stir him back to consciousness. "Hi, Grandpa."

Vesper's eldest, Whitney, helps him into a sitting position. He feels each and every one of his bones as he moves. Beside her, her husband, an elven man Percy remembers not trusting for years, holds their infant son. Whitney's eyes are red and swollen. "Mimi says you...wanted everyone here."

Percy lets out a coughing laugh; gods above, they're great-grandparents now, and Vex still hates being called grandma. "I don't think I have many goodbyes left in me, dear. Better to get them all out while I can."

She sniffs. "Can't...can't Aunt Kiki do something?"

Slowly, he reaches over to pat her hand where it rests on the bedspread. "Keyleth has done more for me than any man deserves, as has your grandmother, as has Pike. I have seen my share of sunsets and sunrises, Whitney. Time for...better eyes than mine to take a look."

Just then, the door to the master suite opens, and more de Rolos come spilling in like light through an open window. Wolfe is first, one arm around Gwen, clearly keeping her upright; Danny follows, his aunt Cassandra hobbling beside him, leaning heavily on his arm. Danny's followed by his son, Shaun, and Shaun's very pregnant partner, whose name Percy can't remember. It's disorienting, but not the first time Percy's memory has failed him. Once he had the sharpest mind in Whitestone, keen enough to make the inventions that set his home years ahead of the rest of the continent, technologically speaking, but most days now, his mind feels like a sieve, permeable, untrustworthy.

Still, he smiles as the rest of his family spills in, children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, twenty in all, not including Cass, who is given the chair right by his bedside. So many de Rolos, in a castle once entirely empty of them. Percy sees so much of the family he lost in their faces—his mother's eyes, his father's nose, Ludwig's jaw, Whitney's hair—and not for the first time, he knows what it means to be immortal in the most human way.

As they say their goodbyes, as they sniff away tears, as they promise him to do right by their family name, he knows that the legacy he has been chasing his entire life, one not stained with blood and black with smoke, has been a fool's errand. His family is not his legacy. They are people, just as he is, no more, no less. They will be great and they will be terrible and they will make mistakes and they will make the world a better place because the gods know that Percy has been far from a perfect man, but he believes he has done what he can to sow in their hearts the seeds of kindness, charity, empathy. He cannot claim them as his legacy because they are still building legacies of their own, ones that will reach far beyond his time in this realm.

He lets them kiss his cheek. He whispers his love, over and over, endless and true. He smiles and looks into each of their faces, hoping the sieve lasts long enough to carry him into whatever comes next.

He doesn't remember falling asleep, but when he awakes, the only de Rolo who remains is Cass. He can't see the white stripe in her hair anymore, because it is all white now. Her eyes are a soft blue, belying her almost complete lack of vision. Percy squeezes her hand. "You still with me, Cass?"

"You're asking me?" They both grin. "I've been trying to get rid of you for years. It's about time you got out of here."

"Yes, well, you remember how Mother used to scold me for being so slow to rise in the mornings."

"That's because you'd stay up until all hours reading."

"Which is why I'm so much smarter than you."

She rolls her eyes, and the air shifts, cools into something more melancholy. "Are you so sure it's now? You seem in such high spirits for a man convinced he's going to die today."

Percy doesn't know how to explain to her the knowing, the certainty in his bones that he could count the number of words he has left. He thinks of a night when they were young, far younger than they are now, when Cass would crawl into his bed during a thunderstorm, shaking and afraid. He tries to explain it the same way he explained to that little girl that the thunder wasn't going to hurt her. "The gods have seen my hubris, my cruelty, my ego throughout the years...and they have loved me anyway. How else do you explain this?" He gestures weakly with his free hand, and he knows that she knows he's not referring to the castle and its riches. "I awoke this morning with my wife beside me in the home that we built, and I felt their calling in my chest. I am not long for this world, Cassandra." Tears slip quickly and silently down her nose. "I'm not afraid. Whatever is coming for me, good, bad, or ugly, it was worth what I experienced here, with my family. With you. I should have died with the rest of our siblings, with Mother and Father, that terrible night. I didn't. Everything after has been...a gift."

"A gift for me." She brings his hand up to her mouth, kisses his papery skin with her thin lips. "Your children and grandchildren, they've been a gift to me, too. Thank you for giving me my family back, Percival."

He smiles, and new fatigue washes over him. His eyes blink slow and long, and she pats his hand. "Rest now, brother. You still have work to do."

He wants to argue, but the sleep rushes over him, dark and warm, like smoke.

When Percival de Rolo III awakens for the last time, he is very much not alone. Perched on his left side is Keyleth, timeless and ethereal. The circlet and mantle of her station are gone, and for a moment, they're kids again, the entire world at their feet. Her eyes are glassy, and he has to be impressed that she hasn't started crying yet.

Standing on the foot of the bed, each holding onto a poster, are Pike and Scanlan. Like Keyleth's, neither's face belies much of the past seventy-odd years, but he can't find it in himself to be jealous of all the life they have yet to live. He thinks himself lucky to have had this, such a perfect little slice of the world, fit exactly to size for him.

Between the two of them, already a blubbering mess, is Taryon, the only person in the room who looks the way Percy feels. His liver spots match Percy's, which must drive Tary crazy. He wonders if this is harder or easier for him, given that Tary has already been grieving Lawrence these past six years or so. He hopes that Tary can be of use to Vex, though if he had to guess, he'd think Keyleth is better suited to the task.

Because she is also here, his heart, his Vex'ahlia. She sits at his right hand, where Cass had been earlier, and gently runs her fingers over the inside of his wrist. She has never been anything less the most beautiful creature he's ever seen, and not for the first time, though perhaps for the last, he thanks the gods for allowing her to be his. Well over half a century together, and he knows by the tremulous bob of her throat and the eyes that will not meet his that she is using every ounce of her formidable strength to keep herself in one piece.

"Hey, Percy." He looks back to Scanlan, whose shit-eating grin has not changed a bit in all these years. "If you finally wanted that six-way, you didn't have to say you were dying to get us here. You could have just asked."

Pike punches his shoulder, but Percy laughs. "You'd never...keep up with me...Scanlan."

"Yeah, I bet that's true." He reaches down to pat Percy's foot beneath the blankets. "You always were a better man than me."

"The bar is in hell," Pike grumbles under her breath, and Percy coughs out another laugh. They must be off-again, he guesses. Well, it was nice of them to come, regardless.

"Tary." The man in question cries twice as hard when Percy says his name. "Have I ever told you...how proud I am...of you?"

Tary brings a shaking hand up to wipe at his eyes, and Pike pats his arm reassuringly. "That's what I care about. If a guy like you could see the good in a guy like me...well, I knew I was gonna be okay."

And Tary is more than okay, Percy knows. He's done more good in the world than any of them would have thought possible the day they met him, arrogant and annoying and so very naïve. Percy is proud of him, proud of the work they've done together and apart. Someday, not too long from now, these same people will gather around Tary, usher him as gently from this world as they do for Percy now, and Percy can only hope that they sing his praises as loudly as he deserves.

Pike hops up onto the bed, her socked feet padding over so she can kneel by his elbow in front of Keyleth. She grips her holy symbol, now worn and smoothed, in one hand and rests the other over Percy's heart. "Everlight, please carry my friend into the next life with the same light and compassion he has shown me in our time together." Her voice is strong, but Percy can hear the tremble in it. "As faithful as I have been to you in my life, he has been twice as faithful to me, to his friends, to his family, to the people of Whitestone. And I think you and I both know that faith does not come quite so easily to some as it does to others." She opens one eye to grin at him, and he winks back. She closes the eye again to finish her prayer. "Let his soul rest among his ancestors, and may your benevolent light never stray from those he leaves behind."

There is a long beat of silence, and though his eyes are not what they used to be, Percy swears the mid-afternoon light streaming in from the wrought-iron windows flares just a bit brighter. Pike releases her holy symbol, leans down, and kisses his cheek. "Y'know," she whispers, just loud enough for him to hear, "for someone doomed by the narrative, you did alright for yourself, Percy."

"I couldn't...have done it without you."

The first of Pike's tears falls, and she slips back to the foot of the bed wiping at her eyes. Percy lets his head tip to the side, and Keyleth's face is as red as her hair, her own tears falling fast and loose down cheeks that don't look a day over thirty. "Hey."

"Hey." She sniffs, taking his hand in both of hers. "I know...I have a lot of goodbyes coming my way. Goodbyes I don't even know about because the hellos haven't happened yet. But you...fuck." She scrubs at her eyes with the back of her wrist. "I don't know what my life looks like without you, Percy. I don't wanna find out."

Oh, he truly does not envy her yawning years. He knows no one who deserves to have her heart broken less than Keyleth does, and yet he knows that so much heartbreak awaits her in the millennium to come. He squeezes her hand, and he prays to the Dawnfather that all of that heartbreak does not quiet her, does not harden her heart from the joys this world has to offer. Keyleth was made for sunlight, for spring flowers, for flight. The shadows will come, but they must not dull her shine.

"Keyleth, Voice of the Tempest." He attempts to gather as much authority into his weak voice as he can muster. "I charge you with not just the welfare of Zephrah, but with that of Whitestone, and of Tal'dorei as a whole. There is no one I trust more to act as steward of these people. Your wisdom, your generosity, your empathy...more than ever, you are needed to bestow your gifts upon Exandria. You know..." He smirks up at her. "We've met gods, Keyleth. And this may not be the best time to blaspheme, but they've got nothing on you."

She throws herself onto him, and it hurts, but he takes it. One last hug from his best friend, from the sister he gained after so much loss. Her tears soak into his neck, and for the first time today, his own prickle behind his eyes. He regrets all of the things he will miss, the wonderful accomplishments of his friends, his progeny, his neighbors. It is such a mortal thing, to know that the world will keep spinning in your absence, and to love and hate the spin for it. But someday, even the ageless Voice of the Tempest will rest, and if the gods know any mercy, he will see her again.

Before she pulls away, a shaking, sniffling mess, she whispers in his ear, "Tell him I still love him?"

He nods. He already knows, but Percy will tell him anyways.

As if on cue, there is a small commotion near the one open window on the far side of the chamber, and everyone turns to see a raven, too large to be natural, resting on the sill, as if it has always been there. There is a cracked sob from Percy's right, and he turns his head to see his wife covering her mouth with her hand.

Just enough time left, then.

"Come here." A small tug to her hand, and she's coming up to sit beside him, hip to hip. She brushes his thin, limp hair from his face, and he struggles to bring her hand, wrinkled and beautiful, to his lips. "What a life, eh?"

Her answering smile is watery. "The best one I could have imagined. It's the best gift you've given me."

"Well, I gave you quite a lot."

"It's my love language, darling, and you were always so fluent."

He laughs at that, and it dissolves into a cough. The raven flutters its wings in his periphery. "Let them take care of you?" His eyes cast over their friends before returning to her crumpled face. "We didn't create this wonderful life together for you to be alone when I'm gone. There are so many people who love you, Vex'ahlia de Rolo, and while I will always be the first among them, in this world or the next, I am not worried for you."

Her hair, unbraided and streaked with silver, spills onto his chest as she leans over him. "I'm not worried for you, either. I know that wherever you're going, I'll find you. I'll always find you. It's kind of my thing, after all." She sniffs loudly. "So take my heart with you, alright? I'll want it back when I get there."

"My extraordinary, incomparable wife. My heart, my judgement. My treasure, my salvation."

Crying, she kisses him, and it feels just like it did that first time, in a snow-capped wood, when they were kids and death was just another monster they could slay. He tastes the salt of her tears and the warmth of her skin and he knows every agony, every loss, every sorrow was always and will always be worth her. For the briefest moment, his heart pinches, a desperate wish to stay, but when his final kiss with his wife ends, he's smiling, because how many men can go to their deathbeds with no regrets?

He looks to his friends once more, each one a gift, a story, a legacy, and with a fading voice, says, "Vox Machina. What an honor it's been to change the world with you." His eyelids feel so heavy; he's already slept so much today. To his wife, he murmurs, "Dear, do you mind if I rest for a moment?"

"Of course, darling." She bends down to kiss his cheek. "Rest now. I'll be here."

The last things he sees are Vex's shining eyes, and across the room, a raven taking flight.

When Percy opens his eyes, he sees them, his friends, their heads bowed and shoulders trembling. They are circled around his deathbed, and Percy watches them mourn. It's far and away the strangest scene he's ever beheld.

"Percival Frederickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III."

He turns, a smile already coming to his face. Oh, the ease with which he moves! He looks down at his hands—smooth and dexterous, hands he hasn't seen in years. "Would you look at that."

The black-feathered figure in the corner of the room is masked, so Percy can't see his face, but Percy doesn't need to see the smirk to feel it. "A handsome bastard once again, I see."

"Screw you, I was always handsome."

"No arguments here." The Champion of Ravens strides closer, and Percy can't help but feel a bit intimidated. "Welcome home, brother."

And they are embracing, reunited after so many decades of grief. "Thank you," Vax murmurs, in his strange, not-quite-Vax voice. "Thank you for taking care of them."

"It was my privilege." They separate, and the two dead men look at the ones they've left behind. "We still felt your loss. Every day, we navigated the hole your absence created. Them in particular." He gestures to Vex and Keyleth, who hold hands over his body's torso as they weep. "I just hope I did enough to help them find the way."

"You did. And now it's my turn." Vax sweeps a hand back, and the door to the chamber opens, but instead of the marbled hall he's used to, Percy sees only a brilliant, blinding white light.

Percy frowns. "Is Grog in there? To be honest, I thought he'd be the first to greet me. You know how bored he gets without someone to entertain him."

"I'm afraid I don't know. I only walk to dead to their doors. I don't get to see what's inside."

For the first time today, Percy's heart well and truly breaks. "Well, just know that as long as they live—" He jerks his head toward the remaining members of Vox Machina. "—your sacrifice will not be forgotten."

"I live as long as they live."

Percy chuckles. "First the mask, now the quotes—you want to be me so bad."

"Get in the light before I throw your ass in there, Freddie."

Grinning, Percy claps him on the shoulder as he passes by, letting is strong legs and youthful knees take him toward the door. Just a step away from the frame, he stops, bathed in the warm, mysterious light. He looks back one last time at his family, wonderful and perfect and his, and murmurs, "What a nice story, indeed." And then he steps into the light.

#percahliaweek #percahliaweek23 #critical role #critical role fic #cr fic #vox machina #vox machina fic #perc'ahlia #perc'ahlia fic #my fic #perc'ahlia week #perc'ahlia week 2023

83 notes · View notes

enteringdullsville · 1 year

Text

Whitney Mellos, the White Drewman

Be Logical

Rank: A (Semi-Main Character)

Visual Inspiration

Character Bases

Obsessive Compulsive Determinator

Polite, perky Whitney is the shining image of responsibility and organization. She simply doesn’t make mistakes. Whitney’s typically good at keeping a cool aura and exudes genuine confidence to an almost dorky degree. If it’s not Gordon being the voice of reason, it’s her. If not her, it’s Bryan.

So why wouldn’t she be the voice of reason? You see, she’s an obsessive rule follower and people pleaser, regardless of whether or not it’s a good one. She’ll go against the rules if they really push her morals, but given that resident sugar-fueled schemer Violet is ICT’s boss…

Fun Facts

Whitney’s surname is a play on “marshmallow”.

Whitney is one of several characters to change names on development. In her case, she was “Bianca”.

Whitney has the biggest redesign between her first and second RS designs.

Whitney, as Bianca, was originally the tallest girl in Rough Sketch. It’s Color Theory scales her down to slightly shorter than Violet. Geneva takes her place among the first season’s cast.

Whitney inherited many aspects from Peony (originally Rosie) as she appears in RS and vice versa. Specifically, Whitney gets Peony’s former rule-obsessed personality, and Peony gets Whitney’s old “cool big sis” nature.

Whitney is the only female neutral colored Drewman in Season One, Noah and Sylvester both being male.

Whitney, like Angie, has skin colored sclerae. In her specific case, the point is entirely moot.

Whitney lives her life according to a strict schedule. If something throws her off, she’ll personally reset every clock on the planet to rectify it.

13 notes · View notes

angelgoeslewd · 3 months

Note

Angel, hello, as you may have noticed I'm a slit for Wren and Landry so if i could request something with Wren Landry and Mickey like maybe a mission that requires the three of them or just play cards or maybe both like playing cards will talking about a mission, sorry if it's too loose just tell me and I'll try to add to it, thank you!

I was FEELING this one!!! the new dol update has me thirstin for Landry + Wren hardcore (and Whitney….. and Kylar…. but SHUSH.)

Wasn’t sure if you wanted this to be lewd or not so made it suggestive but open for more endings ;3 still an 18+ rating because of the game itself tho

enjoy!

⚠️ warnings: 18+ content, minors DNI!, the use of the c-slur, lots of suggestive flirting, open ending, GN!Reader, lots of swearing

🌟 this work is being REWRITTEN! check back for the completion check ✅ and a new story with extra content!

ever since the new laws came into effect, your petty thievery seemed to have less and less… appeal.

your repeat offenses from before had your fingers too quick for any cops to actually gather hard evidence against you. there was nothing like the threat of being caught. would they put you in the stocks? would they punish you off the table? even their degradations did something to you that you couldn’t explain. the risk was high, even if the prize was mediocre. but Quinn was cracking down on the corrupt officials and honestly? it bored the hell out of you.

no longer was there a risk of any… hard justice. what little morals you had prevented you from diving too far into a life of true hard crime and the small acts of terror you did manage no longer paid off in terms of satisfaction. even messing with Whitney seemed more appealing than any small acts of crime around town now.

so here you sat, utterly bored out of your mind and tipsy off your ass (you might even be drunk out of sheer spite of Quinn himself, but you’d never admit that to anyone), the only patron allowed into the pub this early into the day. your sharp wit and constant theft had made you good friends with Landry, enough so that he rewarded you with access to the pub even when it was technically closed. sometimes it felt like he was the only man you felt really understood you.

(Robin was too innocent, Kylar idolized you too much, Whitney’s retribution had a weird tinge of softness now, and Sydney nagged too much about how you needed to change your character- too much too much toomuch.)

of course, even Landry’s understanding of you and what you desired was only an arm’s length, only reached so far under the surface that it was impossible to tell what you really wanted.

and that was your need. that never ending desire. the heat that pooled low in your stomach when you lifted something. endorphins swirling. how shaky your hands felt when they rushed through you, despite knowing your fingers were as calm and still as always.

you wished to be caught.

you wished to held against your will as you struggled and punished.

you wanted to see how his eyes somehow managed to sparkle and darken with absolute delight at your newest prize. you wished to be rewarded.

but… how could you even bring that up? the man was almost a decade older than you, if only that. how could he ever get that dark part of you? to see you in that sort of light, when you were eternally shrouded the dark cloud that loomed over this town.

it was why you were even here, at his place of business. bitterly loitering around for some sort of thrill. a cat, pacing endlessly at the rat’s nest, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

but Landry was no rat, however. and you were more of a lap cat playing tiger. you know this.

your face soured at the thought. ridiculous. your need was going too far this time, maybe due to the fact you no longer had any outlet. and with that, you raised your finger for another shot — whiskey to damper the dullness of what your every day life had become thanks to fucking Quinn and his idealistic political agenda.

“Hey, kid.”

You heard Landry’s call, and despite the little worm in your brain aching to ignore it, you raised your messy head from the bar’s countertop and stared at him in response. his hazel eyes looked concerned as he ran them over your face, most likely catching on the dark circles under your eyes; it was nothing more than a slight wrinkle of the forehead to indicate such, but you knew him well enough at this point to know his tells. he was worried. “Don’t ya think that’s enough? I mean… it’s still so early.”

your brow raised at the man, a scoff erupting from your throat. you pointedly ran your own eyes over him. typical bartender, thinking they knew what ails you, polishing a pint glass, but you knew what those rough hands were capable of. you had seen what passed through them and goddamn, you were fucking jealous of those musty old jewels. “You’re complaining about me spending money…? At your place of business? Who are you and what have you done with Landry, ‘he who doesn’t ask questions’?”

despite his concern, he barks a laugh, his face relaxing at your humor. Landry sets down the glass behind the counter and picks up another. “No,” he states, very simply, quickly turning the wet crystal in his toweled hand. “I’m complaining about your appearance.”

“Not fit to be seen in your be- bar?” you hiccup, hoping your inebriation hides the slip of your tongue.

“Not in the slightest.” His eyes flicker back up to you, taking in your state once again. “You just seem… off, yeah?”

You don’t really know what to say to him then; like him, everything with you costs a price. You both stare at each other for a moment, silent.

It’s a challenge.

It’s a game.

It’s the most thrilling experience you’ve had all day.

and you hate it. emotionally held hostage by the man you want have a clean slate with. but without payment, you weren’t budging. Bailey had at least taught you that resolve.

so like any brat would do, you spit back, “I asked for fucking whiskey.”

Landry rolls his eyes.

you once again find yourself in an empty bar, late this time, after everyone has been kicked out by the owner himself. everyone except for you. it’s almost like deja vu. your head slumped against the counter, Landry washes glasses yet again (how boring being a bartender must be, you think, no wonder he’s gotta get his rocks off with fencing.)

“Bailey’s gonna be worried.”

your head shoots up this time, a look of incredulous disbelief smeared across your features. “Bailey?” you ask, huffing a laugh. “Please. The man could not give less of a shit about any of us.”

Landry himself seems as calm as ever, not even bothering to look your way. but you don’t base anything off of that. you yourself do it all the time.

he shrugs, “He’s called a couple times, looking for ya.”

“He’s making sure I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere so he can properly balance his ledger,” you say bluntly, picking up your glass and taking a swig. your voice is raspy when you begin again, “Besides, if he cares so much, he can come look for me himself.”

“Don’t say that.”

you’ve looked away from Landry when you feel it. the tension that lines the air. the shift of the mood to something dark and heavy. it’s so sudden that you turn your head back to him; the water is running, but his hands are still in the sink as he gazes down into it. “I don’t like you thinking like that,” he says softly. you blink a couple of times, wondering where the hell this is coming from, open your mouth to reply, but you don’t get anything out before he starts again, “Look, something’s the matter with ya, and if you don’t want to tell me, fine. But that’s no reason to do- this-!” he gestures at you, haphazardly. “It bothers me seeing ya like this. You used come in here with a spring in your step and pawn off whatever goodies you’ve gotten those pretty little hands on, throw a few punches, then disappear like you got somewhere to be. So what’s going on? Boyfriend dump ya? School stressing you out? Fuckin’- get it off your chest or something, stop acting like a wet cat and-”

“I thought you didn’t want me to tell you. Thought you didn’t care.” The smirk on your face is there to piss him off. If one of your skills was spitting back at any blessings thrown at you, you’d be a master at it. And it works. Landry looks downright offended at you when-

when he laugh? he’s laughing. at you. your smirk turns into a pout.

“‘m sorry, doll,” he manages, “I didn’t- I’m not laughing at you- I- I just love that about ya. Always trust ya to be a little brat.”

“Yeah… well.” Landry continues to bubble with laughter, wiping away fake tears from his eyes.

“And- and as a side note, never said I didn’t care- just knew I had to push you a bit to find out more.”

“You are such a fucking asshole.”

“No wonder we work so well together, huh?” he says, a toothy smile growing wider by the second, “The cunt and the asshole. A perfect system.” Landry turns off the water, drying his hands and making his way to stand in front of you. there’s so much about this conversation you don’t want to dissect. an uncomfortable feeling of standing on ground that you don’t know will hold. why is he doing this to you? playing with your goddamn emotions, like he knows. he can’t fucking know, you’re sure of it. there’s no possible way. but the way he’s looking at you now. proud. that look in his eyes the same you saw when you got your hands on that microchip, but now he’s looking at you.

isn’t this what you wanted?

you don’t know.

“So… you gonna tell me? Or do I gotta buy you another drink?”

“You own the place. That doesn’t count.”

“You askin’ me out?”

you choke on your drink. fucker.

“Hey.”

you stare at your phone. after last time, you expected things to go back to being a little more normal between you and Landry. he got what he wanted. finally able to pull out your disillusion with life. yeah, you knew he could feel you were hiding more than you let on, but he didn’t push any farther than that, nodding while you spoke, letting you vent your grievances with Quinn and his stupid fucking town. it was kinda nice, to get it off your chest. but you were positive nothing would come about it. Landry was just a friend, you reminded yourself. a good friend.

“Who the hell said you could call me on this phone?”

Always up to your level, a crackling laugh came through the speaker. “I did,” he said. “Now listen- I think I got a way to cure that little bug of yours.”

You were intrigued. “Uh huh.”

“Come by the bar tomorrow. 8am. You were probably already plannin’ to but I want you there sharp, ‘kay?”

you showed up at 8:15.

“There they are!” Landry’s voice seem to echo across the bartop, booming through the empty pub as if through a speaker. He stood to greet you, with arms open as if expecting a hug. You begrudgingly gave him one.

“Why am I here.”

“Aren’t you usually?” it’s a unfamiliar, bored tone that has you looking over Landry’s shoulder, landing on a thin boy, who looks not much older than you, black roots that melting into wild electric blue hair, choppy and chin length. he’s wearing a black and grey hoodie, slumped back in a bar chair, thin fingers clasped around an equally blue drink. he looks at you, expressionless, and his eyes surprise you. they’re bright yellow. cat-like and gleaming. those lithe fingers raise the glass to his lips, sipping it, and coughing just as quickly. “Fuck- Landry! I fucking hate this shit, you know that!”

“Hey now,” comes the smooth purr of a unrecognizable voice. the owner was a man who’s face was obscured by a dark cowboy hat, tipped just so that his eyes were hidden from your gaze, he was draped over the chair, like a sweater that had been forgotten and sat casually enough to feel like such, easily blending in to his surroundings despite the bar being empty. he held a highball glass filled with golden liquid, swirling it around, making the metal accents of his outfit clink with every arm movement. “You be nice. Ol’ Landry’s already putting out with these free drinks, the promise of a fair game, and…” His hat suddenly lifted, his eyes piercing as he finally met your own. You felt very naked as they trailed down your body. “—some very nice company.”

You immediately turn to your hospitable host, whose arm is slung over your shoulder and hiss, “What the hell is this-!”

He just smiles, a bit apologetically, his eyes shifted away from you as he answers. Not a wonderful sign. “Just a… little get together. Some old friends-” A scoff erupted from the blue-haired boy, who still sipped on that god-awful colored drink.

“We’re gambling, darl’,” the cowboy stated, gesturing loosely at a stack of chips on the table.

Your eyebrows knitted as you blinked, mouth parted, but for once in your bratty life, you felt… speechless. The bar owner’s arm is slightly tensing and relaxing around your neck and that’s when you realize —

That’s when you turn to him, letting his arm drop between you two, and lower your eyes to the floor shyly —

Your voice, a whisper, to ensure the other two don’t hear, because you’re sure Landry wouldn’t like them catching onto this —

“You did this… for me…?”

Landry won’t look at you, his own gaze fixed onto the table as the cowboy reaches for the blue drink and the smaller man smacks his hand away. But his head gives a small tilt downwards, before it just as quickly tilts back up.

You don’t know what to say. He doesn’t either, judging by the way he sets and unsets his jaw.

“Come onnn,” The smaller one says, “Are you guys done whispering over there?” He fixes on you, “Done having daddy issues? Ready to get your ass kicked?”

The effect is immediate. “Yeah fucking right,” you bite back, moving to take the seat next to him. “You’re going to regret saying that when I bust your bank-!”

“I think he would rather you bust something else of his-”

“Shut the absolute HELL up, Wren! Like you weren’t undressing them 2 fucking seconds ago!”

Landry figures he should start the game before Mickey starts throwing stuff at Wren…

Again.

(But you fit in so perfectly. You look so at peace, content with this thrill of adrenaline that he really couldn’t ask for much more. Even if it costs him another set of glassware.)

#dol #degrees of lewdity #dol mickey #mickey the hacker #landry the criminal #wren the smuggler #dol wren #dol landry #🍩 of dol #angelic songs #.SMS SENT

39 notes · View notes