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fangirleaconmigo · 2 months

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Lambert and the Tribute

Ok. Hear me out. You know how there is the porny/smutty trope of the witcher who saves a family/town from a dangerous beast? And the towns folk are like, well, we don't have (or want to spend) money, so, here is our young sexy innocent but eager son/daughter as a tribute? *cue porn music*

So as usual last night, I was thinking about blorbos and shit instead of sleeping, and was like...how about we turn that trope around a bit? (not that there is anything wrong with it, I just like fiddling with tropes)

I present to you my concept, and I'm using Lambert for this because as I thought of it, I could hear his voice in my head.

...

So, Lambert comes back from the hunt, exhausted, out of breath, bruised, cut up, but triumphant.

He stands in front of the penniless farmer with the gnarly severed head of a beast. He has saved all of their lives. Because of him, life continues.

But the poor farmer is clearly distraught. He is a young man, early twenties, and is like...thank you so much Mr Witcher sir, we are mighty obliged. But sadly, tragically, we have no money. The harvest was lost, and we are hungry as it is.

The poor farmer tries to explain. Sir, I would gladly offer you my sexy and eager but wide eyed and innocent daughter as tribute, but tragically, my kids are too young to be sexy tributes. Mr. Witcher, they simply aren't reproductive age yet.

And the farmer is standing there, just anxious as hell about what the witcher will demand instead, like, will it be his young bride? His beautiful raven haired wife? They're basically newlyweds still and so very much in love. He can't abide the thought! He's racking his brain, is there anyone young and nubile and teen of aged in the next town???

And then he realizes fuck, WORST OF ALL, I hope this fucker doesn't want the law of surprise because that never ends well. Inside, this man is screaming, please do not take my kids in any capacity.

But isn't that what witchers ALWAYS want??? Children to make into MUTANTS????

So this poor (in every sense of the word) guy is stammering and angsting, but Lambert isn't paying any attention to him. He literally has not said a single word to him. He's not even looking at him. He's leaning a little to the right and looking past this guy, over his shoulder.

The farmer starts to get annoyed. Mr. Witcher, he thinks, I'm struggling here, help me out a little.

Lambert drops the nasty monster head with a thunk and turns back to the guy. Lamb is not particularly put out. He knew this family was poor. But still. This doesn't have to be for nothing.

He wipes the bloody sweat off his forehead with his arm and nods behind the man.

"What about him? He game?"

The farmer looks like his brain has just blanked out. He stares in silence. He slowly turns and looks behind him. Then he turns back to Lambert, waiting for him to laugh or to clarify. Lambert just stares at him expectantly.

"Well?" Lambert asks.

The penniless farmer is like.. "You---you want...m-...m-"

The young farmer doesn't wanna say it because that can't be right and he doesn't wanna embarrass himself. But Lambert is not helping him out at all. He's just looking at him like he's an utter dumbass, just waiting for him to get his shit together. "Spit it out, man."

Farmer tries again. "Mr. Witcher, sir. Are you saying that you want...my... FATHER?"

Lambert looks back at the object of his fascination. An older man is working, hauling bales of hay, loading them up in a wagon. And this man is like, mid-fifties, barrel chest covered with gray hair, full beard, inhospitable expression, overalls, dusty boots. He's thick, muscled and hard, he's covered in sweat, he's got calluses, he looks exactly like a man that's been busting his ass in the fields for more than a few decades.

As Lambert stares at the father, his expression starts to look a little hungry. "Is that your pops?"

"Uhhh yes?' The farmer's voice kind of screeches into a higher register.

Lambert shrugs. "Ok, well yea, your pops then. Ask 'im if he's game. Go ahead. I ain't got all day."

The young farmer just swivels, his eyes still in disbelief, still thinking he's going to humiliate himself. He wants the ground to open up and swallow him. He is starting to think maybe his youngest kid would make a good witcher after all. But Lambert is waiting and doesn't look perturbed. He doesn't look like he's kidding.

"Uh, dad?" The farmer is well, well into adulthood but his voice still cracks. But his dad hears.

The big older guy drops his bale and turns around. His eyes are sharp and hard. "Yep?"

The young farmer swallows. "Yes, um, father, the witcher here saved us."

"Obliged." The older man's voice is low, gravely, and he sounds like a man who does not suffer fools.

Lambert nods, an eager twinkle starting to gleam in his eyes. "Glad to help. It's what I do."

The young farmer continues, "And well, you know, we don't have any money to pay him. What with the bad harvest and all."

The dad nods, waiting. He's quiet too, not helping the young farmer out at all. So the younger farmer soldiers ahead. "So, father, he, the witcher that is, was wondering, um, if you would, um, want to be the uh..." he takes a breath and tries to say it fast, "tribute."

The young farmer almost faints from mortification. He's waiting for his dad to laugh at his idiocy. To shout at him. To kick his ass.

But what the Dad does is slowly raise his eyebrows. Then he turns purposefully towards Lambert. He switches his weight a little to one of his hips, and just quietly begins to look Lambert up and and down, assessing him with extreme interest. He is silently just raking his eyes from the top of Lambert's head down to his toes.

Lambert's grin gets wider, like it gleams, because at this point, he knows he's in. If the man is checking whether he is his type, then well, he's good with men. And Lambert just knows he'll be this man's type. Why wouldn't he be for fuck sake?

When the older man's gaze gets to his crotch, Lambert gives his prick a cocky little squeeze and licks his lips.

The older man grunts, and if the young farmer didn't know it was an interested noise, he certainly does when his father gives Lambert a wink. "Name's Abe, young buck."

The young farmer whispers several prayers for the gods to deliver him from this moment.

"Hi Abe," says Lambert, just eager and smug sounding as shit.

Abe takes his gloves off and hands them to his son as he passes him. He only says three words. "Don't wait up."

Lambert chuckles to himself, and there is a little hop in his step as they walk off together, since he is already anticipating the cock in his ass and could not be more overjoyed. Abe slides his hand down Lambert's trousers and squeezes his ass possessively.

The younger farmer just stands there with his jaw dropped. He had no idea whatsoever that his dad has this side to him. That man silently and stoically raised a family of seven children with his dearly departed mother, rest her soul. All his father ever did was work. You think you know a person. Honestly.

Lambert and Abe are long gone, and the son is still standing there in shock, when his beautiful young bride comes out of the house with a toddler on her hip. "Where did father go?"

The young farmer always likes that about his bride, she calls his dad father. "Yes. Heeee, um, went to pay the witcher for his services."

The young bride is surprised, she didn't know that father had money after the poor harvest they'd had, what with the locusts and all that. But oh isn't that a nice surprise, she thinks. "Well how generous of him. What a kind and giving man father is."

The young farmer puts his arm around his beautiful bride and pulls her in tight. "You know what my darling," he says, "it didn't seem like he minded in the least."

---the end

(and if any of you talented writers out there wants to write the sex scene, I would pledge my eternal friendship and love to you)

#the witcher #the witcher fanfic #lambert #this is for my lambert loving homies #you know who you are #descarada writes

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my-writings-and-musings · 10 months

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Since we've got Bumblebee, Megatron, and Optimus babies, i think it's only fair we add Soundwave to the bunch! Especially after the pregnancy scenario with him a little while back. I'd love to see how Soundwave and the cassettes would react to human reader having a baby and adding a new sibling to the fam!

Yes, indeed it is!! I wrote this adorable little fic, I hope you like it!!

"Status; positive?" Soundwave asked you one final time, kneeling beside the floor level berth as he ensured your blanket nest was sound. More snuggled than you'd ever been in your life, you smiled patiently as your mate continued his endless fussing over your comfort, and nodded your head as your eyes met his visor.

"Yes, I'm still sure." you assured him yet again, taking one arm off the bundle in your lap to lay a comforting hand over his. Trusting your judgment but as careful as ever, he nodded in return and lingered his gaze on the newborn peeking out of his swaddling, a kind of softness settling over his angular features as the two of you sat in a moment of comfortable silence. The little one was more or less asleep at the moment, but had already made a habit of waking in short, bleary bursts of cuteness before inevitably conking out once again, and the two of you had yet to grow tired of the awe you felt at everything he did. Hopefully his siblings would be just as happy to meet him.

"Affirmative." Soundwave said after collecting himself, rising to his pedes to access the bot sized door to your makeshift maternity ward. It took a few steps for him to unlock all the security features he'd personally installed, but as the final lock came undone with an audible thunk and the heavy metal doors whooshed apart, you had just enough time to catch three human sized bots waiting on the other side. "Cassettes granted access-"

"Where-?!"

Soundwave stepped in front of the eager trio just as they tried to charge inside, his visor leveling on Frenzy in a voiceless repeat of a warning he'd delivered many times already. Thankfully the bitlet in your arms merely gave a tiny twitch at the noise, but was otherwise silent as the cassettes sheepishly shrunk down before approaching with almost exaggerated tip toeing. Looking beyond the big bot, Frenzy spoke up again in a much more controlled whisper, craning her neck for a better view. "Where is he?"

"Right here." you invited gently, encouraging them to approach. Seeing the bundle in your arms gave Frenzy, Ravage and Laserbeak a moment of pause before all three hurried to your side, moving as quietly but swiftly as their respective legs and wings could take them. Having expected such excitement, you merely ensured the sparkling was easily visible before preparing for the inevitable flood of questions.

"No way, he really is a bot!" Frenzy said first, crawling over the berth for a closer look but keeping a comfortable distance. Soundwave kneeled behind you as the entire family gathered around, and even with hushed tones all the action had the little one perking up to look around with his broad visor. The purple cassette only grew more awed as he cooed in mild confusion. "The teeniest one I've ever seen, too!"

Laserbeak, though equally touched by the new arrival, brightened at the sight of his chubby face and rounded visor before turning to his sister with an expression of victory. "Ha, you owe me ten credits! I told you he'd have a visor!"

"Don't be so darn smug, you had half a chance of getting it right." Frenzy scoffed, crossing her arms and meeting the other bot's insufferable gaze. "Besides, I'm the one who predicted him in the first place."

"True, but we didn't wager on that." Laserbeak countered with a snicker, the sound of which caused the sparkling to stir with more energy. Yawning and rubbing his face, the bitlet made an adorable show of smushing his rounded cheeks before his digits found his way to his mouth and he began to suckle, emitting a quiet hum of contentment. The adorable sight softened him, and the avian lowered his voice as he continued. "Cute lil feller, isn't he?"

"Yeah, can't pretend that's not adorable." Frenzy concurred as Ravage sat quietly at her side, observing the newborn with a few tentative sniffs as the others continued talking. "But how long until he gets an altmode?"

"Development rate, uncertain." Soundwave answered simply, reaching over you to adjust your blankets. The movement made the sparkling reflexively reach for his sire, stubby digits flexing before the uncertain mech offered his son one of his own, which the newborn grasped tightly.

"There's not a lot of info out there about how these things go, so we're just going to figure it out day by day." you explained further, chuckling softly as the sparkling nommed on Soundwave's digit. "For now, he's just a normal newborn."

"A cute one. Look at his widdle servos..." Frenzy said without thinking, so enamored with her new sibling she briefly forgot to be cool. Catching herself with a blush and a cough once she caught Laserbeak smirking, the femme averted her gaze and mumbled a quick addendum. "That uh... that grip will make him a good guitar player, that's all."

Oblivious to how much his arrival had been anticipated, the sparkling decided to return to napping right in the middle of nomming on his sire, yawning once before conking out in your arms once more. The cuteness was too great for anyone to resist, and even Ravage gave a soft purr of adoration as the group gathered more closely around the new arrival, basking in his presence as he snoozed in perfect contentment. He couldn't know it yet, but he was perhaps the safest little one on Earth.

#transformers #maccadam #earthspark #transformers earthspark #tf earthspark #transformers: earthspark #tf #soundwave x reader #transformers x reader #x reader #human/bot babies #human reader #self insert #sparkling #frenzy #laserbeak #ravage #cassettes

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ooglybooglycomfortstories · 5 months

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What am I to you? - Sukuna x Reader

Okay, so this was the winner of the most recent poll that I did to get ideas and it took me a couple days to get to it cause I got a little busy but I hope you enjoy this!

tw: really angsty, VERY minor physical altercation (reader gets pushed), female reader, also Sukuna. Because he's his own trigger warning.

wc: 1.2k - also not proof read.

pt 2

How long had this been going on… How long had it been since this all started…? You stared across the room at Yuji’s body, now adorned with Sukuna’s markings. You had graduated 2 years ago and never had issues with Yuji losing control of Sukuna in high school but now here he was, standing in your living room.

You and Yuji were roommates for the sake of saving money. Neither of you had any feelings for each other. You prayed that Yuji would never discover the nature of these meetings between you and Sukuna.

You and Sukuna had been meeting almost daily to talk. It startled you the first time because he was so threatening, however, you slowly began to lose the fear of him. It had been so odd though when he first met with you. He had been watching you read and write poetry and claimed he was amused that you shared one of his interests. That was then, this is now.

You and Sukuna had argued recently. A few months prior to this meeting, he had made the mistake of getting too involved with you. He had allowed you to fall for him by mistake and he had allowed you to kiss him. The night after that had sparked a fight. You desperately wanted to understand the relationship the both of you had. He had threatened and insulted you then he disappeared from your life, ceasing all meeting with you for three whole months. That is until now.

“You’ve been toying with me, brat”

Sukuna starts the conversation, irritated and angry. You furrowed your brows as you looked at him. What was he talking about? If anything he had been toying with you.

“Excuse me?”

You meet his tone with the same attitude, except you seem a little more irritated than him.

“If I recall you’re the one who stopped meeting with me for a whole 3 months because you were butt hurt that I wanted to know what we are!!”

You shoot up from your spot on the couch and storm over to him, your feet thunking against the wood floor. When you reach Sukuna, you jab your finger into his chest and practically scream at him. Sukuna just stands there in shock. If it had been anyone else, he would have sliced them up by now for even looking at him funny. But why did he always refrain from doing that to you? What was it about you?

“YOU don’t get to say that I’ve been toying with you!! If anything, I’ve been playing your stupid little games since these meetings started!!!”

Sukuna looks at you, his eyes narrowed but he can feel a sinking feeling in his stomach that betrays how he wants to feel about you right now. He wanted to convince himself over the three months that these meetings were unnecessary and he owed you nothing but truthfully, those 8 months felt like years. It irked him so deeply that he had to confront you about it. You had done something to him. Not the other way around, your anger was unjustified to him. And yet he couldn’t open his mouth to speak.

You stay silent for a moment before looking directly up into Sukuna’s eyes, searching for something in him that cared, but his barrier stayed up. His barrier was so thick, hiding his true intentions, he was a master at hiding his intentions and giving into bloodlust. A frown replaced the anger in your face when you realized you couldn’t see through him. You kept your eyes on his, still searching as you spoke quietly and softly.

“Why did you let me kiss you that night… Am I just a toy in one big game to you…?”

Sukuna feels his chest tighten and holds his breath as he looks into your eyes. Unlike him you were an open book. Looking into your eyes was like pouring alcohol onto a deep wound. It made his face twist up into an unreadable expression for a moment after you spoke.

He didn’t owe you a response and yet… he couldnt stop his lips.

“No”

“No what Sukuna, no I’m not a toy?”

“No you’re not. You’re confusing”

Sukuna’s words catch you off guard and you furrow your brows again as you keep your gaze trained on him.

“I’m confusing…?”

“I feel suffocated being near you”

You go silent again for what feels like an eternity before he breaks the silence.

“You have put a spell on me woman”

You scoff in disbelief, is he still toying around with you? Could you really believe anything he said?

“I have not”

“It is the only explanation for the tightness that burdens my chest near you woman! You have bound my soul to you to bend to your will!”

You burst out in laughter finally, you have never heard the king of curses become so desperate. You were beginning to realize the nature of the situation. You figured that he had never been in love before and this whole concept was new to him. You pursed your lips, thinking of something to say while Sukuna looked at you like you were crazy for laughing at him.

“You laugh at my suffering woman?!”

“Sukuna, I haven’t put a spell on you. That tightness in your chest is a reaction to loving somebody. If you had wanted to cut contact with me that night you would have never returned to me in such a sour mood. You thought of me those entire 3 months”

Sukuna glared at you for even suggesting that was the case. He shoved you away from him to get distance and the sinking feeling struck him again along with an instinctual urge to pull you back to him.

You stood there, looking at him in shock. He could have done way more than push you but that push irked you to the very core of your soul and your expression soured once again.

“You know what, fine. Be that way! Go back to hiding in your prison inside Yuji’s mind! I don’t care what feelings you have for me, figure it out yourself and don’t talk to me again! I don’t want to meet with you ever again!”

Sukuna looked at you, angry and dumbfounded that you were demanding him to do things.

“You have no authority to demand things of me woman! I do what I please!”

“I DON’T CARE”

Your scream causes his jaw to clamp shut. He had never heard you so angry before. He grumbled a curse to you under his breath before traveling back to Yuji’s room and laying his body down in the bed, swapping out with him so that he wouldn’t become suspicious of why Sukuna was standing in front of you who was so angry.

You on the other hand grabbed your keys and left the house, slamming the door behind you. You didn’t know where you were going but you needed to get away from the house to process your anger and frustration. You walked to your car, unlocking it with the keys and quickly pulling open the drivers side door, getting in and driving away.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk sukuna #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #angst #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #aged up characters #aged up au #jjk fanfic

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kingofthe-egirls · 6 months

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SUN GOD AU: LUFFY x Y/N (part 3)

part 1 part 2

originally requested by @braini-wiz

(cw: fully lore about what characters would be gods of what, slight asl trio setup, slight zolu, poetry as always)

(a/n: idk idk i can't get to the smut im so sorry)

Songs: "Unknown / Nth" by Hozier

words: 1.1k

****

It stings,

becoming a

goddess.

****

Sun god—dess ?

¿ ..,

* *

I—

heat—

squirm

_ ,

in place

where am i?

, !

. ,

wings.

****

“She’s alive!!!”

Luffy shouts, from somewhere overhead. Speaking of, your head is killing you. You scrunch your face against the bright sunshine searing orange onto your eyelids. You sit up, woozy. Are you…are you drunk?

No, worse.

Celestial.

“Shit…,” you mutter, swinging your legs off the bench you’ve been laying on. Something rocks the world sideways, and you gasp.

“Nyoop!” Luffy says as he catches you, midfall. You thunk your head against his chest. You’re so loose, and…heavy. You scrub a fist into your eyes. And then,

you stop.

Oh!

Oh.

“Oh, shit,” you say again, staring at the hottest person you’ve seen in your fucking life. This has been Nika the whole time?!

You stumble to your feet, your weight supported by the sun god of your dreams. “S-sorry!” You say, but the word is sour on your tongue. It doesn’t…fit, anymore.

After all, what have you to be sorry for?

And just like that, it’s gone.

Shame.

Shackles.

A skeleton that is made of bone instead of gold, blood that is not ichor, courage that is human and only ever human, melts away.

You are powerful.

You are strong.

You are as radiant as the sun.

Sun incarnate stands beside you, smiling at your newfound face. It’s the same, but it’s…shinier. Faster.

If that makes sense?

It doesn’t,

but

(that’s okay).

****

The sun goddess has wings.

Gold leaf and elaborate, they stretch out behind you like a monarch butterfly’s. You flap them experimentally, and find yourself floating several inches off the ground. You realight back onto the deck of the ship—for that’s where you are—and suddenly find yourself surrounded by people.

“So…what happens now?”

The sun god beside you laughs, squeezing your warmth into his side. You’re warmer, somehow.

“Now…,” he smiles dazzlingly, two inches from your face. “We say hi!”

The people (gods) gathered around the two of you smile and introduce themselves. Luffy whispers his relationship to them as they speak.

“Nami,” a slender, orange-haired goddess smiles at you. She has a logpose on her wrist. Her skin is smattered in flecks of constellational gold. Navigation, currency, stars.

Sister.

“Nico Robin!” Luffy says, smiling as he gestures toward the mysterious, dark-haired woman in a blue dress. Archeology, historical scriptures, stones.

Sister.

“Ace,” someone who smiles almost as wide as Luffy, shakes your hand with a warm fist. He’s even warmer than you are, now. “Fire, fistfights, and protecting your elders,” he grins.

He smells like cinnamon, too.

“He’s my brother!” Luffy says proudly. “And so is Sabo!”

Another handsome, blond man steps up to shake your hand. His is strong, tough yet flexible. He’s wearing a blue suit, with a strange hat atop his head. He bows, slightly. His lips brush the backs of your knuckles.

“Revolutions, secrets, obsessions,” he introduces his godly dominions with a strange smile on his wide face.

You trust him,

but also

don’t.

“Usopp’s here too! And Sanji, my friends,” Luffy leads you over to a charming male with dark skin and a kerchief around his hair. He’s toying with a slingshot in between dexterous hands. The god of snipers smiles at you sweetly.

Sanji (pale skin, yellow hair, swirly brows) is a chef god, someone who loves the sea and seafood and making girls cum. Oh, he says it with such a blush. Your wings flutter, stardust sparkling off them.

You are the goddess of springtime.

Of dawns and new beginnings.

Of song.

Sweetheart.

“I always did like ya singin’,” Luffy says quietly as he leads you away from the group. There’s another god: a strong, stoic man sitting with his back against the mast, his hands behind his mossy green head.

“Swordsman,” you say, curtsying slightly. This god is like a sleeping tiger. You are afraid of getting bit.

“Zoro,” he says his own name without opening his eyes, or barely even moving his face.

Luffy is undeterred, or else doesn’t care, because he lands in Zoro’s lap to place a kiss on his face. “Zoro’s my first mate!”

He stares cheekily up at you, capuchin smile plastered across his squishy face. You wrap a lock of hair around your finger, twirling it nervously. “S-so nice to meet you,” you stutter out, suddenly cowed by this samurai’s presence.

Swords, sacrifice.

Promises.

First mate.

Luffy squeezes your hands in both of his. “Lemme show ya my room,” he says, scanning your face as your anxiety grows.

Silently, you nod.

****

Luffy leads you across the deck of his sunshine ship, with the figurehead of a sunflower, no—lion.

He opens his captain’s quarters for you, letting you step inside first.

“So…,” he starts, suddenly shy as he watches you twirl around his room. “Whaddya think?”

“I think it’s lovely,” you smile at him, all floaty with your newfound goddess-ness.

“Springtime suits ya,” he says, stepping forward to skim his knuckles down your arms. “Sing for us sometime too, yeah?” He smiles dazzlingly down at you, his face suddenly mere inches from your own.

“Kiss me, sweetheart?”

He asks, raspy.

Luffy’s lips taste like sunlight.

He groans into the kiss, his hands tightening around your waist. Your chiton is gold now, it seems.

His body is strong, lithe, and muscular as he pushes you backwards onto the bed. He slides between your knees, standing in front of you as he cradles your head.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, stroking his thumbs along your cheeks, “Stay with me for a while, yeah? Let’s have some adventures, mhm? Say you’ll stay…,” he leans forward to press his forehead against yours. His cloud-like hair squishes against your face.

“Say you’ll protect me first,” you counter, “Say you’ll stay with me.”

He snickers,

and then

he laughs.

“Of course I’ll stay with you!” He shouts, sweeping you up in his arms. He spins you around, and you’re dizzy. From the circles or his scent, you’re not sure. But he sets you down and nuzzles your face, kissing at your cheeks and then your chin.

“I was scared ya wouldn’t stick around,” he scratches the back of his fluffy white head.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You tilt your own godly head, butterfly wings slowly opening and closing behind you.

He scuffs his heel against the floor, sheepish. “Sometimes the priestesses just wanna have sex with me ‘n leave.”

He says it so simply, his heartbreak apparent in every syllable.

“Sorry,” you say, wrapping your hands around his. “Those stupid girls didn’t know what they were missing.”

He stops, stunned.

“Even though m’clumsy and break stuff?” He asks, rosy eyes wide.

You shake your head.

“Who cares? I’m clumsy too,” you smile, tugging his arms so he falls into bed beside you. He lies on his back, so you climb over him.

“So…you’re not gonna leave?” He asks hopefully, flush spreading across his cheeks. You shake your head, straddling his hips. He smiles: a truly bright, delighted smile. Full of pearly, square teeth. “Say you’re my sweetheart, y/n.”

“I’m your sweetheart, sun god.”

“And I’m your captain, spring goddess!”

****

#dumpster dive #christ #not me making a hunger games reference #w radiant as the sun #my writing #one piece fanfic #luffy fanfic #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #gear 5 fanfic #gear 5 fic #gear 5 spoilers #op spoilers

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sweetandscarlet · 1 year

Text

tension in between us

summary: after coming back to work after a vacation, you meet a woman who wanted nothing more than simply, just your company. that was until she visits you once again.

warnings: 18+, stripper!reader (23), rich business lady!wanda (32), lap dancing, oh the tension, horny thoughts are being thunk, power play, eventual smut, wanda being a nervous wreck around beautiful women. minors DNI.

words: 5k

an: i’ve been meaning to post this for a while. happy (extremely late) belated anniversary everyone :) xo saph.

edit: i’ve made a few changes to the warnings since this one shot will be split into two parts as i feel it’s too long for one post! enjoy :)

the cold air was something you had grown accustomed to for a few months now, and as much as you longed for summer to come; there was something refreshing about feeling the chill breeze against your face as you walked towards a secluded but well-built building.

the name always made you smile as you stared up at the glowing neon lights, ‘house of harkness’ reflected in purple onto the mundane streets behind you. you knew of the face beyond the name, you had for years.

miss harkness, or as you personally call her; agatha, was a close friend of your late mother’s. she had taken you in as a friend and mother figure after the unfortunate death of your own. something you would never be able to repay her for, but, agatha was different compared to the people who had come and gone in your lifetime. she simply cared for you, nothing more and nothing less.

“how are you, miss?” your attention was pulled from your blank gaze at the sign, and your eyes followed the voice to the man who stood in front of the entrance of the club. “i’ve not seen you for a while”

you smiled at his kindness, stepping forward just slightly. “i was on vacation, henry. you’ll never believe the sights i’ve seen in england, it was magnificent, much different to what we know here”

the man’s eyes widened just a little at your reply, “a vacation? wow, i'm glad you had fun, y/n. i’ve visited england before, the dialect takes a second to get used to but it’s a beautiful country nonetheless”

you nodded in response, your smile never faltering towards the familiar man.

henry was someone you had known for as long as agatha. he was a loyal server to the owner, working the doors of clubs she had owned in the past and following where ever she settled next.

he was a kind man, someone who knew your mother well, held her memory in his heart and quickly upon meeting him, you had grown accustomed to his sincerity.

“are you ready to get back to work? we seem to have some big spenders in tonight” he asked, stepping to the side to make room for your entrance through the heavy silver door.

“ready as i’ll ever be” is all you could respond as you move forward. henry pulled open the door, watching as you stepped in before smiling once more and closing it behind you.

you make your way through the hallway, purple lights guiding your way as you reached the reception. the staff member who was perched behind the register nodded at you and you shot them a small smile back before continuing your walk into the depths of the club.

“y/n! you’re back!” agatha’s voice boomed over the music that echoed throughout the club, you glanced at your surroundings, noticing the many customers that were situated with other woman you hadn’t worked with before. you brushed it off, turning your attention to agatha who stood close to the bar.

“hi, agatha” you replied, smiling as you stepped closer. the older woman pulled you in for a hug and you instantly sighed in her embrace, you squeezed your arms around her before pulling away. “henry tells me there are big spenders in tonight”

“well not so much right now, those guys have a table booked a couple of hours from now. the other ‘not so generous’ customers are occupied at the moment but.. there is someone here who hasn’t had a dance yet”

you shoot her a puzzled look and agatha chuckles amusingly at the confusion written on your face.

“i think she’s a first timer”

the confusion only grows more. “she?.. i don’t think we’ve ever had a female customer”

“well,” agatha tuts, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “there’s a first time for everything, kid.. would you?”

you shuffle your weight on your feet, turning your head to look up at the older woman. “fine, but i better make some good money from her”

agatha laughs once more, “don’t worry doll. when you see her, you’ll know she means business”

you choose not to reply at that, instead, you slip out of agatha’s hold and head towards the changing room. once you pull open the door, you throw your bag on one of the counters and begin the process of getting ready.

ᗢ

fifteen minutes had passed since your brief conversation with agatha.

you had already done your makeup prior so all you had to do was adorn yourself in red lingerie, and garter belts to match along with your red-bottomed stilettos. it was a popular outfit of yours, a signature look that was sure to get you thousands as it had done in the past.

you gave yourself one last look in the large mirror in front of you, checking your ruby lipstick was pristine and your curls fell perfectly against your shoulders.

“let’s do this” you whisper to yourself before grabbing your clutch that lay next to the large bag you carried inside with you. “it’s show time”

you swiftly turn around before exiting through the changing room door and back into the busy club where coloured lights flash and the booming music echoed around you.

you nod over at agatha who stays perched near the bar. she smiles back at you, her eyes never faltering away from yours. “looking good, kid. you ready to paint the town scarlet?”

you roll your eyes dramatically at the use of your allies.

“just a heads up, some of the girls have already tried to get some money out of her but.. she’s a tough nut to crack so good luck”

a smirk twitches at the corner of your lips, “she hasn’t met me yet”

agatha shoots you a playful wink, her hands reaching up to rest on your shoulders. “that’s the spirit, my little money maker”

you let out a sigh, shifting your weight as you prepare yourself. after a fleeting moment passes, you smile at the older woman before turning around in her hold; making agatha’s arms fall to her hips. you purse your lips and while holding your head high, you take a few steps forward.

your eyes scan the room, in search of the hard to crack-mystery woman. you land on a table of men that are gathered around with champagne, smirks on their faces and a dancer hooked onto each arm like leaches.

you want to roll your eyes at the desperation that oozes from most of them, the way they cling onto one customer that won’t so much as cough up a hundred bucks. it was painful to see, but you tear your attention away from them. reminding yourself that you were once new too, new and naive. they’ll learn.

you continue to keep your eye on the prize, walking past the table that boomed loudly with belly laughs and hollers.

just as you were about to give up and complain to agatha that the woman was no longer in sight, you spot red hair that broadly made itself known behind a pillar and as you turn the corner; you’re greeted by a woman, a gorgeous woman at that, in a black suit, situated with one leg over the other as she nurses a whiskey glass.

you push the thought of how disgustingly good looking this stranger is and instead focused your mind back to why you were here. money.

“hi there, you look like you’re in need of some good company” it was a pathetic starter conversation really, you knew that. “what brings you into the house of harkness?”

the redhead raises her gaze from her glass and up to you. you watch as she gulps dryly, her eyes subtly scanning your body before eventually flickering back up to your face.

“oh you know, just a bit of shopping..” you snigger at that, stepping the tiniest bit closer towards the obviously tense woman. she shakes her head at her own words before moving her crossed leg to rest back on the plush chair she sits on. “that was a terrible joke, i’m sorry. i- i don’t know why i’m here, i was recommended by a friend of a friend and well..”

you smile, “and now you’re here” your eyes drop to the empty chair at the table, “you know it’s- may i?” your hand gestures out, stepping closer to the seat.

the older woman eyes you for a split second before nodding her head. you pull out the chair from under the table, moving slightly before situating yourself down on it; throwing a leg over the other as you maintain eye contact.

“its not everyday we have beautiful women like yourself in here, i think this calls for a celebration..” you nod your head at the older woman.

“oh i- thank you.. and wanda. my name’s wanda”

“wanda” you repeat, liking how the name sounds and how easily it rolls off of your tongue. “how ethereal.. i think this calls for a celebration, wanda. shall we get a drink?”

the redhead looks down at the empty glass she had been nursing for god knows how long. she lingers on the thought briefly, her mind and body battling the decision to stay or leave.

“what’s your name?” wanda asks, mentally kicking herself for how timid the question sounds coming out of her mouth. “it’s not something like diamond is it?”

a laugh escapes your lips as you shake your head. “you’re definitely a newbie, aren’t you? no, nothing cliche at that, my name is scarlet. as you can tell from my whole ensemble, i’m partial to the colour red”

wanda’s gaze drops to your red lipstick and then the lacy bra that pushes up your chest oh so perfectly that it makes wanda subconsciously lick her lips at the mere thought of being so close to them.

“hmh, i can see that. reds my favourite colour, too” wanda hums, her eyes flickering back up to your piercing gaze. “i think i will take you up on that drink offer. what would you like? it’s on me”

bingo.

your smile stretches from ear to ear at that. knowing damn well this is how it starts, it’s an easy trick of yours. coax nervous customers into a conversation, offer to have a drink with them and before you know it they’re racking up thousands in purchases on their bank cards.

“such a gentlewoman, thank you. i’ll take a rum and coke, please”

ᗢ

you don’t even realise until you check your phone that an hour had passed, wanda was currently back at the bar and paying for another round of drinks for the two of you. you had both slipped into an easy conversation that seemed to make time pass you by in a blink of an eye.

you sit up straighter when wanda approaches your table with a drink in each hand. you proudly noticed how over the hour, the older woman’s tension seemed to decrease massively as she reaches her empty seat.

“i have to leave soon,” wanda mentions as she situates herself back in her seat. she places your drink in front of you and then takes a lengthy sip of her own before placing it down on a napkin. “i have work in the morning, but.. i enjoyed talking to you, scarlet”

you pick up your drink, watching the liquid bubble with fizz in the glass as you mull over your next move. now’s the time, just do it.

you shift to the edge of your seat, a delicate hand reaching over to rest on the top of wanda’s thigh and you immediately love the feeling of the expensive material of her pants suit under your finger tips. “i enjoyed talking to you too, wanda. you know.. we could always finish these drinks in one of the booths?”

wanda’s eyes shoot down to your hand, then to the left of you to glance at the ‘private booths’ sign that shone brightly in purple neon, until eventually she turned back to capture your gaze.

you pull your hand away from the warmth of her thigh, watching as the gears turn in wanda’s mind, the mental battle of should or shouldn’t. it made you itch with eagerness and something you can’t quite put your finger on. never in your career has anyone doubted the thought of getting you alone in a dark booth that was only covered by a black curtain. men always jumped at the chance but, wanda… wanda was different. shy, kind, respectful. it was intriguing nonetheless.

“i- i think..” wanda reaches a hand inside one of her pant pockets, you watch with baited breath as she digs around before eventually pulling out a wallet. “i’m not sure how much-“

she flicks through the thick stack of neatly placed bills before settling on several notes and placing them on the table next to your drink.

your eyes fall to them instantly and before you can muster up a reply, wanda beats you to the punch.

“is three-hundred enough? i’m not sure how this works but..” wanda sighs as she rises to her feet, she picks up her drink and takes a few more sips before settling it back down. “i really should go, thank you for your company, scarlet”

your lips part as your eyes rake up her suit clad body, confusion is evident in your face as you land on emerald-green eyes. “wanda..”

“maybe i’ll see you again?” the older woman offers as she folds her wallet up before slipping it back into its resided pocket. “thank you, really. i had fun”

your eyes flicker down to the money that lay in front of you and then back up to the redhead. conflict swarms through your mind at the thought of the woman leaving. you had done what you came to do, make money. but.. this was so different to other customers, they never simply just paid for your time. they came here to see one thing only; you, naked.

you decided to plaster a smile on your face, ignoring the ache in your chest to convince her to stay, before standing up to bid her a goodbye. “yeah, i- until next time, wanda”

wanda nods at you in response, her eyes holding your gaze for a brief moment before she turns on her heels and walks away from the table. you stay there, confused at the interaction as you watch her heels click one by one before eventually fading away and leaving out of the building.

oh, you were definitely intrigued now.

your turn to face the now empty table, your eyes land on the money and you can’t help a smile creeping on your face at the entire situation. for a quick hour of conversation with a beautiful woman, you managed to make more money than you would have done with the other customers who were currently eyeing you up like meat on a platter.

you shake your head with an exasperated sigh as you reach down to collect the bills. it’s not long before you make your way back over to the bar to where agatha’s perched near the edge, watching your every move.

“i guess you were right, doll..” agatha beams, noticing the notes in your hand. you extend your hand and give her the money with a grin. “how did you manage to crack her?”

you purse your lips, sucking your tongue against the back of your teeth before shrugging. “i didn’t do anything, we just spoke and then she said she had to leave”

“so,” agatha tilts her head. “she just.. gave you this? god, you really are the best of the best”

you laugh at that with a rolls of your eyes. “yeah, yeah. you’re just saying that because i make you more money in a day than these other girls do in a week”

agatha tuts, “although that is true, you really do have a talent kid. those new girls couldn’t get a cent out of her before you came out”

pride swirls in your chest at her words. the thought that out of everyone here, wanda chose to tip you. excitement brewed in the pit of your stomach at the off chance of her actually visiting again, it was something you had never felt towards any other customer who had visited before.

“did she say anything before she left?”

agatha’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts and snaps you back into reality, your eyes flicker up to hers as your mind quickly registers her question.

“just that she had to leave and that maybe she’ll see me again?.. i can’t see that happening to be honest but hey, stranger things have happened here”

ᗢ

a few days had passed since your last interaction with wanda. everyday that you worked since, your eyes briefly scanned the hallways every so often, watching as customer after customer piled into the club. but, you never saw thick locks of stunning red hair in the sea of people.

your work days were thankfully busy, which meant you spent hardly any time pondering over whether or not, a stranger; that had quickly invaded your thoughts, would ever come back.

“hey.. sorry to interrupt”

your turned away from your current conversation with agatha and your eyes quickly landed on a timid looking girl, staring at you. you could feel the nervousness radiate from her as she shifted on her feet, waiting with baited breath for you to speak. you eyed her cautiously, your mind registering that you had never spoken to her before.

you smiled as best as you could though, given your somber state over once again, no sign of a certain redhead, in hopes that it would help ease her anxiety. “hey, it’s all good. you okay?”

the younger girl smile brightly at your politeness, her shoulders falling as the tension left her ever so slightly. “yeah, thank you. i just.. sorry, i haven’t had a chance to meet everyone properly yet. are you scarlet by any chance?”

“that she is, melody” agatha spoke, causing both of you to turn towards her as her voice reached your ears. “the one and only, the best of the best”

your gaze flickers back over to the younger girl and you smile once again, rolling your eyes. “pfft, don’t listen to her, she’s crazy”. a grin spreads on your plump lips upon hearing agatha gasp dramatically, but you continue your focus on the girl in front of you. “i’m not the best but i am scarlet though, what can i do you for?”

the younger girl, who you now know as melody, shifts on her feet once more, her eyes scanning over to a certain part of the club before looking back over to you. “someone’s requested you specifically, she didn’t give a name but-“

“she?…” you ask, your heart beginning to beat slightly faster. you pick up your clutch from the bar and sling it over your shoulder, shooting agatha a knowing look. “what did she look like?”

“absolutely gorgeous” melody hums, taking a step back to allow you some room to move. “red hair, black suit. she’s sitting over near the lounge”

you teeth bite down on your bottom lip, chewing nervously as the younger girl speaks. you thank her before briefly bidding a goodbye to both agatha and the dancer.

your legs quickly move in front of you, your mind racing with determination as you walk towards the lounge. after walking past a few busy tables, your turn and instantly your eyes fall on wanda who’s perched in a chair that’s situated with a small table in the corner of the room. you bite back a grin as you step closer towards her, ignoring the way excitement bubbles in your chest.

green eyes trail upwards from the phone in her hands, until eventually she’s staring back at you, watching as you approach.

“hey, you um- you asked for me?”

wanda smiles, her hand gesturing to the empty chair opposite her. you instantly obey to the silent command and perch yourself on the chair.

“yeah.. i wanted to see you and thank you again for the other day. i think you could have smelled how new i am to this environment and.. well, you were really kind so, thank you”

your eyes trailer over wanda’s body as she speaks. it makes you almost audibly grown at how good she looks, the beauty and power that radiates from her as she sits in a black suit and heels to match.

ignoring the dull ache you feel building between your thighs, you shift slightly in your chair and lean forward.

you certainly don’t miss the way wanda’s eyes fall quickly to your cleavage and back up to your face.

“that’s nice of you to say, wanda. did you come all the way here just to say that?”

the redhead chews delicately on her bottom lip before taking a deep breath. “no i- i want to.. i’m not sure of the prices but, i want a dance.. from you”

“oh?..” is all you could say as you gulp dryly at wanda’s confession. you study the way she fiddles with her fingers, the way one leg bounces gently and how her brow line creases into a frown. “are you sure? you seem nervous”

it was a shameful thing to point out about someone, you knew that. but, you couldn’t help the concern you felt towards the older woman. sure, if this was any other customer; you’d happily take their money without so much as blinking. but, wanda was kind, deferential. you wanted her to be sure of her decision.

“it’s because i am,” wanda scoffs with a chuckle and repositions herself on her chair. “but yeah i- i do want this, i’m just..”

your shoot her a lopsided smile. “it’s okay, you don’t have to explain, as long as you’re certain”

wanda nods, feeling nothing but relief at your words. how could she possibly begin to explain why she’s nervous? she has no reason to be. she’s a grown woman, someone much older than you, who has plenty of life experience and wisdom and yet when it comes to this? she’s a ball of anxiety that’s ready to roll out of the door and never return.

maybe a drink will help, she thinks.

“do you want a rum and coke? i’m just going to head to the bar before we start”

you smile at the redhead as you rise to your feet, “i’d love one, c’mon, let’s go together”

ᗢ

the air is thick with tension as you both step into the dark booth that’s only light comes from the illumination of bright purple fairy lights that hang overhead.

you motion for wanda to sit down as you plug a cable into your phone that connects you to the speaker. once you do, you pull up a playlist and press shuffle. music slowly builds into an easy rhythm and you gently sway your hips on every beat.

you can feel wanda’s eyes burning a hole into the back of you and a smirk twitches at the corner of your lips as you continue to dance.

you shift backwards, your ass only a few inches away from wanda’s face and that’s when you begin your routine. you reach down, your fingertips touching the tips of your heels and you can’t help but hum at the delicious stretch you feel in the back of your thighs.

you move your hands from your heels, smoothing them up your calf’s and over the back of your legs until you reach your ass. you grab a fistful of flesh and teasingly spread your cheeks apart.

you hear wanda groan from behind you and you can’t help but feel pride beam proudly in your chest once again. the same pride you felt on the first day that you met her, when you realised that out of every dancer in the club; wanda chose you. she chose to speak to you, to tip you. and to now be the one who gives her, her first lap dance.

“you doing good back there?” you ask, a hint of sarcasm laced in your voice as you trail your arms up to your hips, pulling at both ends of the hem of your thong. you let them go with a brief snap against your skin before turning around to face wanda. “sounds like you’re enjoying the view to me”

you hook a finger under wanda’s chin, tilting her head upwards to face you and even in the dimly lit darkness of the booth, you can see the way wanda’s pupils fade from emerald green to black as they dilate. the way her chest rises in uneven breaths and the way her hands grip the edge of her seat harshly.

wanda parts her lips, the words she so badly wants to whisper just dancing on the tip of her tongue. i want you. instead she settles for a breathy “yes”, leaning forward as she does in a desperate attempt to be closer to you.

she fights every instinct in her body to not reach out and touch you, to feel the softness of your skin under her fingertips.

“good,” you mutter, your hot breath hitting her lips as you speak, and it takes everything in you to not close the gap between you. “you really are something else, you know, wanda. you’re so unbelievably gorgeous, it hurts”

you pull away, releasing the hold on her chin and continue to dance, swaying your hips as your hands roam over your body until they reach the curve of your breasts. you give them a generous squeeze and wanda’s eyes never falter as she watches in awe.

wanda holds your gaze, even when you step closer and closer until you swing a leg over her hips, your other one following soon after. she gulps dryly when you fully straddle her, your hands moving to rest on her shoulders.

your hips stay just a few inches above her lap and wanda’s teeth clamp down on her bottom lip when they begin to grind gradually in the air.

“me?..” wanda gasps, the grip on her seat getting tighter and tighter by the second until her fingers turn white. “have you seen you? you’re a fucking masterpiece, scarlet. the things i-“

you tilt your head downwards at that, your face a few inches away from wanda who sits there with flushed cheeks and her lips clamped shut.

“the things you what?..”

a shaky sigh hits your skin before wanda drops her head in embarrassment. “nothing, i- forget i said that”

you hum in thought, your movements coming slowly to a halt as you let the lower half of your body rest on wanda’s thighs. your already peaked heart rate spikes dramatically at the feel of once again, expensive cotton and all your mind can think of is grinding against one of her tense thighs until you leave a mess on her pants suit.

“you can call me y/n, by the way” your words come out in a broken whisper and you don’t even care, your mind is swirling with nothing but wanda. how her skin would feel against your touch, the softness of her lips against yours, what makes her tick and how she would sound when she reaches that blissful peak of an orgasm. “scarlet is just an allies”

“y/n” wanda repeats, lifting her head up once more until your eyes interlock. “that’s a pretty name, it suits you”

you smile down at her, liking the way your names sounds when it comes from her. it makes you itch more with want and you can feel yourself becoming unbearably needy as she holds your gaze. “do you- are you busy after this?”

your eyes widen as the words leave your lips and you instantly begin to climb off wanda’s lap, stepping backwards until the coldness of a large mirror behind you hits your back.

you quickly reprimand yourself as mortification creeps in at such a question. something you have never asked a customer before, let alone thought of. how could you be so stupid?

“fuck, i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to say that. i don’t think before i speak“

you could see a hint of faint surprise written on wanda’s face but, as she rises from her seat; something you can’t quite place glistens in her eyes as she parts her lips to speak. “you didn’t mean it? that’s quite a shame”

she steps closer towards you, inching closer until you can once again feel her hot breath hitting your skin. “are you sure you didn’t mean it because..” wanda sighs, her eyes hungrily raking down the smooth skin of your body. “my diary’s completely free and if i’m being honest, for the past few nights all i’ve thought about is you”

her confession makes you gulp hard, the confidence and boldness you had before is slowly vanishing as a new side of wanda shows herself and cracks through the surface of her once timid and unsure demeanour.

you clear your throat and stand up straighter, your eyes never breaking contact as you try to regain some sense of tenacity. “oh do tell,” you mutter, moving closer just an inch until you feel the curve of wanda’s breasts pressing against your own. “i’d love to hear about how you’ve been thinking of me”

wanda’s gaze flicker to your lips for a split second before taking a small intake of breath. “well, well, you’re a brave little girl, aren’t you? my thoughts envision you as someone who takes it lying down but.. i guess i was wrong”

a slight grin itches at your lips at the back and forth dynamic you both hold but you bite it back, not wanting to show any significant detail of feeling on your face. “oh i do like to take it lying down but.. you’re right, wanda. i’ll never step down from a challenge”

wanda smiles and unlike before, when it was soft, gentle and the dimples in her cheeks formed; this one held something much more sinister behind it. “we’ll see how long it takes before i break you, darling”

before you could reply, the sound of your timer plays loudly in the booth causing both of your heads to turn towards the noise and the illumination of your phone screen.

“looks like my time is up” wanda voiced with a hum as she steps back a few feet. the loss of her warmth against you makes you want to reach out and pull her back towards you until your bodies deliciously press together again. “so, tell me y/n, what happens next?

#wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #mcu fanfiction #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff/reader #scarlet witch

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whumpsday · 11 months

Text

Kane & Jim #51: Locked In

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, whumper turned whumpee, torture, begging, multiple whumpers, sadistic whumpers, claustrophobia, trapped in small container, burns (lots!), death wish / suicidal ideation, starvation, weight loss due to starvation, brief mention of being mocked for weight loss, brief mention of vivisection/gore

i know i said #51 would be present arc big plot thing but i just got hit with inspo for this so that'll be #52. i just needed to grab kane and shake him around a little like my own personal stress ball.

Kane used to pace his cell sometimes, back in the early days. There wasn't much else to do. But he'd grown far too tired in the months or years since, crumbling to his knees from exhaustion after only a minute or two of circling now that he was caged in this starved, failing body.

So he just sat in the corner. His corner, the one in the back that was furthest from the stairs. He sat huddled in a little ball, like he had any ability to protect himself from whatever anyone wanted to do to him, and waited for the next one.

Kane sometimes fantasized that they would just stop coming down one day, leave him here alone. That he would be allowed to heal in peace, the only pain left the inescapable hunger, and he could live out the rest of his nights in peace. Even if he was trapped and starving and alone, it would be so much better than this.

But sure enough, he eventually heard hunters approaching, as they always did. He pressed himself back against the wall, following the useless instinct that told him to protect himself, to put as much distance as he could between him and danger, even if it was just a centimeter more.

THUNK.

Kane let out a gasp at the sound, heavy metal on concrete stairs. The most dreaded thing he could possibly hear, a telltale sign of the board. The board didn't always mean the sun, but it always meant something awful. If he was lucky, he'd just be cut open, silver dragging and burning through vulnerable innards that were never supposed to be seen at all.

If he was lucky, that was. And Kane was almost never lucky.

As the sound of the hunters dragging the thing down the stairs drew closer, Kane realized this wasn't the board. He'd lost almost everything in this place, but not his keen hearing. This was different. It sounded different. Heavier.

A new board, maybe? But the hunters already complained about the weight of the board, occasionally mocking him for how little he added to it as there grew to be less and less of him, skin sticking to bone. Why would they make it heavier?

"This thing's way too fucking heavy," one complained distantly.

Thunk.

"I can't believe you actually made this," another laughed.

Thunk.

"Well, we got that new batch of silver, gotta make some use of it. Not like we can't just melt it down again later to make something useful out of it. Might as well have a little fun first."

Thunk.

Three of them then, at least. Kane hated it when there were so many. They tended to egg each other on. If there was just one, a single hunter might concede to his begging and stop early, or go softer on him. But few of the hunters who hadn't left yet would dare to do so in front of their peers.

And whatever they had, it was silver, and it was for him. Kane whimpered, wrapping his arms around his head as wave after wave of terror rocked through him.

The sound of the stairs stopped, the delicious, horrifying smell of humans coming closer and closer. The thing, the silver thing meant for him, dragged leadenly across the floor.

Kane's heart practically stopped in his chest as the hunters finally came into view.

It was a box.

The box was small, much smaller than the board. While the board required him to stretch out and locked his wrists and ankles to the corners, exposing every inch of him, fitting inside this would require him to curl up as tightly as he could.

As small as it was, it was clearly very dense, requiring all three hunters to carry it downstairs. And though humans were physically weak as a rule, these men were clearly strong for their species. Kane was weaker than a human now. There was no way he would be getting out of this.

The box's silver gleamed menacingly, two small holes in the side of the lid and just below it giving Kane pause. Their purpose was clear: they were for a padlock to be threaded through, sealing the lid to the box with its contents trapped inside. And he was under no delusions as to what the contents would be.

Tears sprung to his eyes as he stared at the horrible thing, terror sending tremors through him. He wouldn't be able to beg himself out of this, not when they'd spent effort making this just for him. He was going in there.

One of the hunters laughed. "Look, it's shaking with excitement."

The one who'd claimed making the thing unlocked the door. "Look, leech, we got you a present. Say thank you." He waved for the others to drag it inside,

Kane just stared at him for a moment, until his fear-addled mind caught up with the order. "Thank you, sir," he choked out.

The two hunters holding the box snickered as they dropped it down in his cell, though its maker only grinned.

"Please." Kane's voice came out high-pitched and warbly as his tears started to fall, staring up at the hunter in front of him with big, watery eyes, "Please don't make me go in there, sir, please. I'll be good, I- I'm trying to be good, please!"

He felt like he was scrambling at a cliff wall, unable to get back up to where he could be okay, where he could be a person again. A person who could make choices, choose to be better than he was the day before. Kane wanted to be better. He was ready to be better. He had learned his lesson long ago.

But he wasn't allowed to change. He'd run out of chances, and now he was stuck down here, no matter how hard he tried.

The hunter crouched, eye-level with him, and grabbed him by the hair. Not pulling just yet, but his grip was firm. "Yeah, you'll be good, won't you, parasite? Tell you what. If you're real good and get in the box all on your own, we'll only keep you in there for a little bit. But if you make us shove you in there and give us a hard time about it, that'll be your new home."

The hunter turned Kane's head to face the box. "Every time we're done having our fun with you, you'll go back in the box. And when someone wants to play with you, you'll come out. And when they're done, you'll go right back in, and you'll stay nice and snug in there until someone else is ready to take their turn. Like a toy. Is that what you want?"

Kane was fully panicking by now, bright-red eyes boring into the hunter with unbridled horror.

The only respite he had left was the time he had to himself between the hunters' visits. To have his cell replaced with this- the torture would never stop. It would be all the time, twenty-four hours a day every day for his entire life, a burning that never left. He imagined being taken in from a day in the sun, and instead of being allowed to painfully recover on the floor, being stuffed into a silver box instead, grilling into already-fresh burns covering his whole body.

"NO!" he cried, clasping his hands together desperately as the other two hunters tried to hold in their tittering. "I'll do anything! Please, sir, anything, please don't! Please don't do that to me, please don't make it my n-new home, I'll be good, please!" He sobbed brokenly, unable to contain his despair.

The hunter let go of his hair and gestured to the box. "Then get in."

One of the others flipped the lid up. The inside was just as silver as the outside, not that he'd expected different.

Kane wanted to curl up in a ball and stay in his corner. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to hide. He wanted to grab a stake off the one hunter who was still wearing his gear and kill himself, though he'd never be fast enough to be successful.

But none of those things were possible. He had no choices.

"Yes, sir." Kane forced himself to his feet and walked over to it. Purposefully, without hesitation. He didn't want to be accused of stalling. The only virtue he had worth anything here was his obedience, and he would hold onto it for dear life.

The inside beckoned him, every surface ready to kiss his skin with fresh burns that would plague him for the next month, as his starved body struggled to heal.

He touched the inside of the lid with the tip of his finger, yanking it back with a whimper as it seared, just as he knew it would.

If Kane was going to do this horrible thing, fit his whole body inside, he would need a plan. It wasn't hard to think of, and not logistically difficult to execute: he needed to protect his face and the soles of his feet. The former to retain his senses, and the latter so he could walk when ordered about.

He couldn't wait any more without being considered disobedient. The three hunters watched him with amusement, but they would soon turn to prodding if he continued to stare at it.

Kane lowered himself toward the box, touching he knee to the box's center. He wailed as he laid it down, his skin sizzling under the touch of silver. He held all his weight on that knee for just a moment as he maneuvered his other leg inside, placing it beside the first so he knelt on the silver. Tears rolled freely down his face as his shins pressed against the torturous metal, his skin frying underneath him, the tips of his toes just barely kept from touching the side.

The next part was quick. He ducked down, curling into himself, his arms between his face and the box's floor while his back would face the lid. He didn't touch the backs of his arms to the bottom, not yet, not while there was still space for him to hover. The top of his head did press against the side, his malnourished, patchy hair thankfully offering minor protection from the silver surrounding him on all sides: it did burn, but not nearly as bad as his agonized legs.

All but one.

He sobbed as he burned, the feeling of silver searing against his shins unbearable. "I d-did it, sir."

"Fuck me, I didn't think it'd actually go for it," one of the hunters commented.

"That's our vamp. We've got you all trained up, huh?" asked the hunter who gave the order.

"Yes, sir," Kane sniffled, the smell of burning flesh beginning to permeate the air.

He couldn't see, facing the box's floor, but the sound he heard had limited possibilities: it had to be one of them picking up the lid.

"Don't move," the hunter told him.

Watching his tears patter to the silver floor, Kane wanted to beg again. He wanted to plead for someone, anyone to help him. He was trying his best. He just wanted it to stop.

But he was already getting the good option out of the two presented to him. "Yes, sir."

The hunter placed the lid over him, more silver pressing against his back and squeezing him between it and the floor. His arms were forced to the bottom of the box, where they came alight with pain as well, stuck in the burning darkness.

Kane screamed, unable to help himself as he started to struggle, desperate to get away from the thing that was hurting him so much. But he could barely move, let alone put up any real fight. Any direction he tried to move himself in just made it worse. Hunkering himself down made his shins and forearms weep against the silver, trying to push up made his back singe, and he could never move enough in any direction to alleviate the constant, agonizing feeling of being consumed by fire.

"I don't think it likes it in there," one of the hunters sneered.

Kane heard one of them pat the lid, unharmed by the silver burning him alive. "It'll get used to it. Let's give it some time to get comfortable."

A click rung out, the dreaded sound of a padlock locking firmly shut.

He was stuck inside until someone saw fit to- "Please let me out!" he bawled, desperate. "Please, sir, I can't, it hurts, please don't leave me in here!"

One of them chuckled. "Just relax. You'll get used to it. You're right where you're supposed to be. You're lucky we're not making it your new home after all."

Kane wept as he heard the hunters walk away, leaving him alone in his torment.

taglist in reblog! part 3 of the AU i've been posting will be coming tomorrow :) i was gonna write it tonight but i just got so inspired for this and wrote it all in 1 sitting over the past 3 hours lol

oh and have some drabbles i've posted since #50!

canon:

Playing With Food

Blowtorch

AU:

No Escape

Bellamy Saves Kane 2

and some awesome fanfics that got posted!!

Home Sweet Home? by @whumpwritings

The Final Apology by @clickerflight

#kane and jim #whump #my writing #vampire whumpee #vampire whump #whumper turned whumpee #torture #begging #multiple whumpers #sadistic whumper #claustrophobia #in container #burns #death wish #starvation #whump writing

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shuniverse · 11 months

Text

don’t talk ,, b.c

🧷 requested by anon !! hope I did ur ask justice 🫶 also, requested tag for @mimussyy !!

🎐 family issues and angst ;; lots of cursing/swearing ;; hurt/comfort ;;

;;

“baby you should really try talking to em again.”

he refers to your family, with whom you haven’t spoken to in ages.

your mother, especially.

as a child, and as an adolescent, your mother was never someone you turned to.

always shunning you, turning you away when you need help with something, any sort of guidance.

but when she did give you attention? it was always to degrade you, tell you you’re clothes, hair, interests, the things you wished to pursue in life, that they were all stupid and ridiculous, that they would never get anywhere in life.

you didn’t think of them again until you saw a post your mother made of your parents on a trip with your siblings. it had filled you with a sense of jealousy and sadness, which your ever so observant boyfriend noticed.

“chris.. you know how they treated me. they made me not wanna LIVE. I can’t exactly forgive all they did.”

“baby girl, I know they’re bad, but maybe they’ve matured now, maybe now that they see how successful you are, maybe they’ll understand, and want to rekindle the relationship.”

you sigh, looking up at your boyfriend from where he’s standing next to you on your barstool. “channie, I don’t think that’s such a good idea..”

he pouts slightly, resting his chin on your shoulder. “c’mon baby, please? for me? and hey, I’ll be here if it goes south, alright?”

you lean your head on his, and he plants a kiss on your cheek.

“alright,” you start, much to your internal protest, “I’ll do it.”

;;

much to your surprise, you find yourself in your car on your way to your parents home.

you groan to yourself. that handsome guy you call your boyfriend is sure as hell lucky you love him.

stopping in a parking spot close to his house, you throw your head back against the headrest with a thunk.

I’m really doing this.

jesus, chan. you’re one pretty guy. lucky for you.

you huff, undo your seatbelt, grab your bag and keys, and get out of the car, and walk the longer-than-you-thought distance to the front door.

with what feels like sloth speed, you move your finger to the doorbell.

you wait, until finally, after what feels like ages, your father opens the door.

he gives a small smile.

you give a nervous smile in return, and a small wave. “hey dad.”

“hey, kid. long time no see.”

he opens the door wider, to let you in.

you chuckle. “yeah, been a while, hasn’t it?”

your father gives a short laugh, and you stop as you see your mother in the kitchen, seeming to make good. she hasn’t noticed you yet, as if she ever wanted to.

but you set your past aside for the time being, and walk to the kitchen island.

you take a deep breath, and speak to the woman who made your life feel like hell for 17 years for the first time in three years.

“hey, mom.”

she halts her hand chopping on the board, and turns to look at you, her eyes widening.

“oh.. hey, hun.”

you share a stare at each other for what feels like eternity, before your father snaps you out of your state.

“hey, uh, we got snacks ready. you want some snacks kiddo?”

you nod, looking at your father with a small smile.

you sit together on the couch, making small talk and watching tv while munching on some snacks.

until, you feel the mood ruin.

your mother steps into the room, holding bowls of pasta.

macaroni to be specific.

fuck. that’s your favorite.

she hands you a bowl with a tight lipped smile, and hands a bowl to your father with an accompanied kiss to his head.

she sits in between the two of you to eat her own noodles.

it’s awkward silence now, neither one of you knowing what to say.

until your mother opens her mouth.

“so, uh, how are you, hun?”

you turn to look at her. “I’m fine, mom.”

“how, uh.. has your life been? what do you do?”

“well, I have a boyfriend and we’ve been together for four years, I’m working in the art industry and making good money, and-“

“art? see, I told you that wouldn’t get anywhere.”

god. not even a minute in?

“it’s getting me places, mom, and I said I’m making good money, my boyfriend makes good money too and he’s actually the leader of a band-“

she cuts you off with a laugh. “a band? huh, never knew you went for downgrades.”

this only fueled your anger. you couldn’t help but raise your voice. “mom, he’s anything but a downgrade. he takes care of me, he’s super sweet and probably the most handsome and caring guy I’ve ever known.”

she scoffs. “I bet it’s just so he can fuck you, that’s all guys want. especially from sluts.”

your eyes widen. “what the fuck did you call me?”

your dad looks at you wearily. “kid..”

“no!” you practically yell, and swivel your attention back to your mother. “god you are such a bitch. you were NEVER there for me, you always degraded my shit, you NEVER made me feel welcome in my own fucking home. I never felt like I could talk to you, but you expected so much from me. why? so you could use me as a slave? as someone to lean your troubles on? that I never fucking wanted? I knew coming here was a bad idea. you just can’t keep your damn mouth shut about me can you?”

she gawps at you, before standing up and huffing. “I don’t see what the problem is. we both know you’ll end up coming back in the end, you’ve always needed me, you’ve never been one to cut people off.”

“like you know! you were never fucking there for me! y’know what? fuck you. fuck you and your bullshit words when we know full well that I’m more successful than you, that I don’t fucking need you. I’m so done with this, im so done with YOU.”

“you don’t mean that.”

“yes, I fucking do. fuck you mom. dad?”

he looks at you, not knowing what to say.

“I advise divorcing her before it’s too late.”

and with that, you give your mom one final look, before stomping towards the front door, grabbing your shit and getting ready to leave, before you feel a hand grip your arm, you turn your head.

it’s your mother.

“if you leave, you’re never coming back.”

“good. have a nice life, bitch.”

you release your arm from her grip, and walk out the front door, and slam it shut, walking to your car and immediately pulling out and driving home.

on the way there, your rage turns to stress, and tears start slowly streaming down your face.

as soon as you pull into the parking lot of your apartment, you trudge up your stairs and barge through the door, making your boyfriend flinch from his spot on the couch.

“oh hey love what’s-“ as soon as he sees you with tears falling down your face, he gives a sympathetic smile and stands up, opening his arms. “c’mere princess.”

you rush into his arms, practically jumping on him, and he sits down, holding you in his arms as you sob into his neck.

he sighs sadly, kissing your neck as your body wracks itself with sobs and cries.

he runs his fingers through your hair, and finally, after what feels like forever, you lift your head up, and sniffle.

chan gives you a sad smile, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb. “baby.. what happened?”

you pout, holding onto his forearm as you recall what happened. he listens to your words intently, leaving kisses on your hand as he watches you with kind eyes.

he sighs once more. “my love, I’m so sorry.. I shouldn’t have made you go see them.”

you shake your head. “it’s ok, it’s not like you knew my own mother would call me a slut.”

he gives a sad pout. “why would she even call you that?”

“well, I told her about you and how great you are, and she basically said I was only with you for sex, especially sluts, gesturing towards me.”

“aw, baby I bet she’s just jealous you have better and more sex than she does.”

you giggle. “yea, bet she’s mad you’re hot and dick me down like she’s never felt.”

he shakes his head, gently rubbing your waist. “you’re silly, baby girl.”

you kiss his forehead. “so are you, channie.”

he gently cups your face, and you lean forward as he catches your lips in a gentle kiss, and you lovingly sigh, wrapping your arms around him.

he pulls away after a bit. “my pretty baby.”

you giggle again, kissing his nose. “can we take a shower, channie? I’m tired.”

he kisses your shoulder. “of course, baby girl.”

he stands up, holding you as he walks to the bathroom.

you sigh against his shoulder.

he may be a lucky guy, but you’re even luckier.

;; 🫶

AHHH THIS TOOK ME SO LONG AGDHHDHE

hope you enjoyed!

#skz imagines #skz hurt/comfort #skz fluff #skz angst #bang chan drabbles #bang chan imagines #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #chan x reader hurt/comfort #chan x reader fluff #bang chan angst #bang chan fluff #bang chan hurt/comfort

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devildomwriter · 6 months

Text

Their First and Last Lines of Volume One

Lucifer

First: “I will explain everything to you.” — (1-1)

Last: “And did you say that today’s the day MC calls you?” — (20-15 Hard)

Mammon

First: “Huh? Who the hell are ya? You ain’t Lucifer” or “Are ya foolin’ around? Who the hell are ya?” — (1-1)

Last: “Whats with that smug look on your faces huh?! You’re makin’ me want to wipe it right off of you!” — (20-15 Hard)

Leviathan

First: “How about this? I vote for YOU to die, Mammon.” — (1-7)

Last: “Well, I guess I rank lower than Belphie as far as MC is concerned. I mean, I should’ve expected as much…” — (20-15 Hard)

Satan

First: “Hmph. At least he didn’t ignore you altogether. How do you think I feel?” — (1-2)

Last: “You make it sound like a set thing, as if you have been calling each other on a regular basis.” — (20-15 Hard)

Asmodeus

First: Oh, come now. Really? You should be honored that you get to introduce such a sweet and charming little brother like me!” — (1-2)

Last: “Ooh, me too! I want to hear MC’s voice so baaad!” — (20-15 Hard)

Beelzebub

First: “Nope, I haven’t eaten any souls…yet.” — (1-2)

Last: “I also want to talk to MC.” — (20-15 Hard)

Belphegor

First: “…el…” — (2-15)

Last: “Yeah, we have. Why?” — (20-15 Hard)

Solomon

First: “Hey, you there.” — (2-2)

Last: “Actually, I should be the one thanking you. You really made my experience down here a lot more fun. I hope you know I appreciate that.” — (20-17)

Simeon

First: “Ah, but I notice that you didn’t deny the part about him being cute, did you?” — (2-13)

Last: “Thank you. And you do the same.” — (20-17)

Luke

First: “Pff, of course not! Duh! That was a put-down! An insult! He’s taunting you!” — (2-13)

Last: “Goodbye…” *sob* — (20-17)

Little D. No.2

First: “Now, now, I thunk it’s nice to have at least one foolish character in the group you can tease. It lightens things up a little, don’t you think?” — (7-10)

Last: “See? They should have listened. I warned them that would happen!” — (7-14)

Barbatos

First: “Huh. Whenever you make an important announcement, the demons here couldn’t care less. But rumors… they really do spread like wildfire.” — (2-13)

Last: “I.. suppose you could say that, yes…” — (20-15 Hard)

Diavolo

First: “Welcome to the devildom MC.” — (1-1)

Last: “So, in other words, you’re sad, aren’t you?” — (20-15 Hard)

#obey me shall we date #obey me volume one #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me mammon #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me satan #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me little d no 2 #obey me luke #obey me barbatos #obey me thanks #obey me fun facts

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goomens · 9 months

Note

I've had an idea but I won't get around to writing it think.. I imagine Crowley being drunk on wine, taking to Nina after *the event* and just word vomiting, telling her everything about who he is. And then Nina ist like "so when you said 'angel' you actually meant..." maybe you can do something with that? 😂

such a cute idea!!! fic under the cut <3

It’s nine in the morning and Nina is jolted from her sleepy reverie by the violent tinkle of the front door bell; a figure in black slithering into a nearby seat and thunking his head down onto the table. Crowley, she thinks, watching him carefully from behind the counter. Without Mr. Fell in tow, tense around the shoulders, and creating quite a sad display, she feels a pang of something like pity inside her chest.

“Gretel,” Nina calls quietly to one of her newer baristas after a moment of consideration, “Take over for a bit, please?” And she makes her way over to Crowley, not bothering to say hello as she pulls out the other chair and sits down in it. He doesn’t lift his head. By all means, he seems lifeless. Completely still. Eerie, like he isn’t breathing. Her heart stutters in fear for a second, thinking he’s just up and died in her coffee shop, but—

“Oh, calm down.” Crowley retracts his forehead from the cold plastic table with a grunt and glares at Nina—she thinks, at least—through the impenetrable black lenses of his sunglasses. “I would like a mug of coffee with four measures of vodka, please and thank you.”

“It’s not even half nine yet, you know,” She scolds him, not really meaning it, but not willing to serve him alcohol so early either. He’s a bit of an odd fella (or, whatever) but Nina draws the line at serving a customer four units before noon. “No boozy breakfasts here. You’ll have to wait ‘til later—on Saturdays we have a boozy brunch. There’ll be cocktails.”

Crowley doesn’t speak for a moment. Then, “Pity.” He sighs. Snaps his fingers for some reason. He reaches into his blazer, pulling out an entire litre bottle of ABSOLUT and uncapping it. Nina opens her mouth, ready to tell him off, but he holds a finger up and guzzles down half of it before she can get the words out. When he sets the bottle down, she raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Thirsty?”

He ignores her, choosing to scowl instead, and looks off out the window of the shop looking a bit lost. “Your advice was shit. You and that—that vinyl seller. Thought you should know. Don’t go trying to influence anyone else’s ‘love’ lives, eh?” His words are full of forced humour, but his voice shatters a bit at the end, and suddenly Nina feels like some kind of villain. She looks at Crowley and sees someone in mourning. He’s grieving. He’s heartbroken.

“Fuck,” She says with feeling, and motions for Gretel to bring over two mugs.

Hours later—in the midst of Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death’s boozy brunch—Crowley is drunkenly taking Nina step-by-step through his and Aziraphale’s extremely long history. They go back much, much further than she ever thought. Than she ever thought possible, actually. It’s all quite strange. And sweet, and sad, the way he talks about Aziraphale. “He’s so smart,” He says. “He’s good. He’s lovely. He’s the one I love. He’s only gone and returned to Heaven and left me on my own.” He also says, “I’m a Demon, I know I don’t deserve him,” and “He’s an Angel, he doesn’t want me. He could never want me.” And Nina is suddenly putting the pieces together, making sense of it all, her stomach—full of the buttered bagel she’d had for breakfast, half a bottle of vodka, and not much else—turns and swoops, threatening to expel its contents.

Crowley watches her then bursts into a startling laugh. It’s low and surprised. “There’s no way—no way—you’re just now realising what I am. What he is.” She just blinks and stares, and his laugh dies down but the lines of amusement remain etched on his face. “Oh, brilliant. You humans are brilliant. So bloody obtuse.”

“Oi!” She protests, reaching out to push at his shoulder. But she misses on account of being a bit more tipsy than she thought, and he laughs at her again. “I am not obtuse! ‘M quite clever, actually.”

There’s a smile on his—the Demon’s—face now, which is nice, much better than the frown he sported earlier, but when he gestures to his face and grins fiendeshly, she only stares confused for a second before realising that, ah, maybe she is a bit obtuse. His eyes are bright and a little bit playful, without the sunglasses. Big and yellow and snake-like, and oh, that’s what the Eden story had been about. It hadn’t been a metaphor or a weird figure of speech, but the truth. She’d been so busy listening to him she hadn’t noticed the moment he’d pocketed his sunglasses.

Instead of crippling fear or mortal terror, Nina just laughs and laughs. She orders them both a creamy coffee and some malt biscuits, even at his weak protests, and she lets him tell her all about the planets and the stars, Mesopotamia, the crucifixion, the Seven hills of ancient Rome, the burning of witches in the fifteenth century, the Armageddon-That-Wasn’t…

#hope this is cool i just typed it out in my notes app #thanks for the prompt cause like. i needed it lol #no inspiration to be FOUND #asks #good omens #go2 spoilers #crowley #aziraphale #goodomens #nina #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #fic #fanfic #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #ficlet #short

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palmofafreezinghand · 12 days

Text

honesty

On ao3 here. CW: Brief reference to domestic abuse.

1923

Esme flopped onto the freshly made bed with a sigh, arms outstretched.

Her husband watched the scene for a moment. Then delicately picked up one arm, lying down beside her, and letting her arm fall over his body. His shoes were kicked off with his toe — falling unceremoniously on the floor with a thwack — before pulling his legs onto the mattress.

When she had insisted the first piece of furniture they built in their new-to-them home was their entirely unnecessary bed he thought she was endearingly silly. Yet, there was something to be said about the familiar comfort after a week of traveling across the continent.

His eyes slipped closed, listening to her unnecessary breathing, calm, slow, and steady. She was hoping to finally be reintroduced to human society and was doing everything possible to make it a successful transition. He felt the mattress shift as she moved closer, her shoulder bumping into his as she threaded her fingers through his.

He presumed he was as close to the sleep as he ever would be. Comfortable and somnolent. Warm from the sun shining through windows that did not yet have coverings. Birds chirping in the backyard. His wife by his side, the honeysuckle of her shampoo mixing with the fresh scent of the soap she used to wash their linens.

“May I be honest with you?” She asked quietly.

“I hope you are always honest with me, Esme,” he muttered.

He heard her blow air out of her nose, and knew, even without peeling his eyes open, she was smiling fondly.

“I feel safer now.” He felt her lift their joined hands off the bed, holding them upright, tilting them slowly. No doubt watching the thousands of beams reflecting off their unnatural skin.

“In this house?”

The house was located further from civilization than the former hunting lodge, minutes away from a small logging town, they had occupied in Wisconsin. The structure itself was larger, the newlyweds and the perpetual teenager finding they needed far more space than the previous two bedrooms. Structurally he questioned its soundness, it needed quite a few renovations. But Esme’s smile when she caught a glimpse of the slightly dilapidated project in his countless brochures ensured he was purchasing the property.

“In this country,” she said, letting their hands fall to the mattress with a quiet thunk.

“Oh?” He opened his eyes, blinking slowly, lazily turning his head to look at her. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling.

She did not continue, although he knew she could. Vulnerability no longer came naturally to Esme. She had reached a point in life where almost every word she spoke was mulled over laboriously before it met the air. The only person who ever got a look at her bare thoughts was a telepath Carlisle pitied and envied.

“Penny for your thought?”

“I believe… I have known in the logical portion of my mind Char- he no longer posed a threat to my well-being. I know that. Yet, when I saw the map today, and realized how far from home I was, it felt as if I could finally breathe.”

“Are you sure that’s not the mountain air?” He smiled.

“It might be,” she laughed lightly, rolling her head to look at him.

“I wish I had known you felt unsafe. We could have moved sooner. I presumed you might find it difficult to leave any earlier.”

Indeed she had found it difficult to leave the place where her son was buried. “Worthless mother,” and “abandoning him” were the only words he could discern as she tearlessly sobbed into his shoulder two weeks earlier.

“But that is precisely my point. I never felt unsafe, at least in the moment. Only in hindsight.”

“Small mercies?”

“Indeed,” she smiled. She let go of his hand, reaching up to brush a stubborn lock of hair off his forehead.

They fell into what he had nicknamed ‘comfortable silence.’ There was little pressure to fill the void, the silence could sit, be peaceful even. It was one of the elements of marriage he found most surprising and gratifying.

He watched as she closed her eyes and scooted closer, resting her head on his chest. His arm wrapped around her back.

“You used the word home,” he said after fifteen minutes or so.

“I misspoke, my home is here, with you,” she said quickly, correcting what she assumed was a transgression.

“Es, I only wished to know where you were referring.”

“I suppose Ohio,” she sighed. “It is humorous because it did not when I was there.”

“Oh, I understand that sentiment entirely.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I would never step foot in London again, and yet if someone asks me where I am from my mind immediately goes to that grey dreary awful city.”

“You would never go back?” She asked, looking up at him. He nodded causing a wrinkle between her brows. “That’s a pity. I have always dreamed of going one day, in the far, far future.”

“Perhaps I could be convinced by an enchanting woman,” he conceded.

“If only I knew where to find one,” she laughed, triggering his laughter. He caught her lips in a quick, familiar kiss.

She broke the embrace with a contented sigh, lying her head back on his chest.

“Did Ohio ever feel like your home?” He asked, threading his fingers through her hair.

“You can not let a dead dog lie,” she sighed into his chest.

“I’m curious about my wife. Is that a crime?”

“You are too curious for your own good, Carlisle Cullen.”

“A trait we share.”

She took a deep breath, he could feel her body rise and fall against his. “I think it must have been the day I told my parents what he had done. I remember feeling entirely alone, clutching a cold rag to my eye to stop the swelling, while my mother went on a tirade about how difficult marriage was. I distinctly remember thinking there was very little left for me in life.”

“You have never told me about that day.”

“I told you they turned me away,” she refuted.

“Yes, but never anything further.”

“What would you like to know?”

“Only what you care to share,” he said. Her breathing halted, her body tightening under his hands. He continued speaking, “You do not have to tell me a thing, Esme. But I know when you broach a subject first you have been thinking of the manner for quite some time.”

She huffed, but he could feel her cheek move as she smiled.

“Recently,” she said, shifting off his chest, moving to tuck into his side to look at him comfortably, “I have begun to doubt my father ever knew what Char-he ever did.” He knew she corrected herself on his account, and as her husband, he should feel guilty about this fact, but when it came to Charles Evenson his rage often trumped his desire to be a supportive husband.

“I thought you said you told him.”

“When I got home he was in the fields,” she sighed as if lifting a heavy object.

For the first year after her transition, Esme had refused to discuss her past, unless entirely necessary. Only after much hurt and passive disagreements did she reveal this was due to the grief, and not lack of trust in her new companions. With clearer eyes the sorrow was evident, the slump of her shoulders, the spaces she left between words, the tone that made it feel as if every word was an exertion of energy.

“I told my mother, everything. She had not said a word in response, besides offering me a rag. He came in for a glass of water. My back was to him. I can no longer remember his face the last time I saw him but I remember the joy in his voice. He kissed the top of my head and asked the reason for the visit. Before I could answer my mother told me to go wash up. When I came back she told me he was going to drive me home in the buggy. I would still have time to make dinner.”

“And you suppose she did not tell him?”

“I presumed she had for the longest time.”

“What has caused you to doubt now?”

“Edward.”

“Edward?”

“Knowing Edward. Make no mistake I would have done anything for my son, but he was a babe. There was a part of me that assumed I could not understand my father’s indifference because I did not know the struggles of raising an impertinent child. But becoming well acquainted with Edward and all his flaws. I know I know I am not his mother, and I do not wish to be, but I care for him. If he confessed a fraction of what I had that day, I believe I would be compelled to commit a massacre. I can no longer conceive how my father would have driven me home, would have held polite conversation with my husband, if he had any idea.”

“Your mother knew, yet she arranged for him to take you back.”

“My mother never cared for me,” she said plainly.

“I am sure, she lov-”

“No, she did not. She told me as much, countless times. She never wished for children. I have accepted this long ago. But my father adored me. He would take me everywhere with him, he would just beam as he introduced me. ‘This is my little girl, Esme Anne.’ That first year of marriage he came by our house. I was in no shape to receive company and Charles asked him to leave. A few months after Charles enlisted he left a meal on our doorstep. He did not knock or leave a note — he could not write. But I know the taste of Platt beef. I am convinced he must not have known.”

“Perhaps he did not.”

“I was cruel to him.”

“Esme, I am sure he understood why you did not contact him. Even if he did not know precisely what you were experiencing.”

“At my brother’s funeral, he approached me, and I made some wicked comment about both his children being dead and how happy he must be,” she laughed humorlessly, a sound that bordered a sob. “Knowing now the pain he was facing, I can never forgive myself. Even if he knew.”

“You were hurt, you believed the one who was supposed to love you had thrown you into cruelty-”

“Carlisle, I do not need justifications,” she said softly, yet firmly, palm pressing to his chest.

“I understand,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I love you.”

A true sentiment, one not meant to comfort or justify. I love you and the cruelty you see when you face a mirror. I love you and the fishing weights tied to your ankles in the form of memories I will never fully understand. I love you.

She pulled herself away from their embrace, forcing herself to sit up with a quiet groan. Her knees went to her chest, her arms wrapping around her shins, her chin resting atop her knees. He followed suit, tucking one leg under himself and letting one fall to hang off the bed.

“I apologize for being so morose,” she said quietly, her hair moving ever so slightly in the Summer breeze.

“I would rather know your true heart than be told empty pleasantries.”

She shook her head. “It is not your responsibility to carry my burdens.”

He laughed, “I believe that is the definition of marriage, my love. You have certainly carried your share of mine.”

She shrugged, tilting her head on her knees to see him better.

“Is the move the only element that has brought up all of this?” He asked delicately.

She nodded. “It feels as if Esme Platt, Evenson, Bauer is gone, finally. I knew she was before, of course. I knew I could never go back but being here, in an entirely new place feels as if Esme Platt is finally dead.” No sooner had she finished speaking was she laughing. “How dramatic.”

“I for one, hope you are wrong.”

“Hm?”

“I’m quite charmed by Esme Platt… and her impertinence,” he smiled, bumping her shoulder with his. It earned him a small smile. “Can I tell you something?” She nodded. “I loathe moving.”

“You do?”

“Oh yes. It feels as if the second I am content, I must pack up an entire life and move somewhere else unfamiliar and drab. Another town with another set of people I have to reinvent myself for.”

“So hundreds of ends?”

“I suppose. But I don’t know if it ends, in a sense I could be hundreds of Carlisles, and Williams, and one John.”

“You went by John?”

“Once, for two weeks. I moved because I could not force myself to respond to the name,” he smiled. “But they’re all me.”

“So this is a death and a birth? I like the sound of that.”

“You are an artist, aren’t you?” He laughed. She ducked her head. The fight over her clearly God-given talent was a battle for a different time, they had uncorked enough for one day. “Thank you for being honest with me,” he said earnestly. In one move, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and was on the other side of the room beginning to unpack one of their trunks. It was a start. A birth of newfound trust, one would say. Now he sounded like the artist, but not a very good one.

#esme cullen #carlisle cullen #my stories

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jonesyjonesyjonesy · 1 month

Text

Wildflowers (pt. xxii.i)

a john paul jones x fem!oc fic (in progress)

summary: Julia Morgan knew nannying for three girls who had recently lost their mother would come with many challenges. But she never thought their father, the enigmatic musician John Paul Jones, would be causing her the most trouble. And while Julia is not in the business of saving broken men, her tenderness might be meant for more than little girls and wildflowers.

table of contents │ previous chapter

masterlist│ko-fi

notes: drug use, dubcon, attempted sa, violence, blood, nsfw

a/n: it seems unfair on such a beautiful day as this when i have witnessed joh in the flesh to bring you such an angsty chapter, but...here we are. the story, the fluff as we have known it, is about to take a turn. yet another two parter. please be careful with this one.

pt. xxii.i, jack-go-to-bed-at-noon

“'Damn. Julia. Right. Julia. Maureen is…' He laughed. 'She’s dead.'"

“The veins in your eyes. They look like…lightning.”

I pursed my lips.

“Did you know that?” he asked eagerly.

This wasn’t going well. “Lift your arms, John.”

The sheer curiosity in his expression turned into a smirk that would have been playful in a different moment, but for now made my stomach lunge to expel itself through my mouth. “Are you trying to get into my trousers?”

“I’m trying…to get you ready for bed. You need to rest,” I said as calmly as I could though my blood had been absolutely roiling for the past half hour.

John lifted a hand, unsteady like he was under anesthesia. He gripped the collar of my dressing gown and tried to pull me down toward him, but his strength was buffeted by whatever was in his system and his hand plummeted to the mattress. “You really ought to buy a lady dinner first, Maureen.”

I should explain from the beginning, shouldn’t I?

It started with one of John’s nightly phone calls, the ones I’d been surviving off of once again after he returned to Headley Grange after my birthday. Weeks had passed and the girls and me were…surviving would be the best way to put it.

This night’s phone call, this bloody fucking night’s phone call, was out of the ordinary because it was made from a telephone booth.

“I don’t have long,” John said, no, slurred into the receiver.

“You’re drunk,” I remarked with a giggle. Not the first time I’d dealt with him intoxicated or under the influence of some substance on a phone call. Speaking with him in such a state didn’t sit well in my gut, but clouded by the haze of what I thought to be love, I was willing to overlook it.

“Not drunk. Tipsy,” he replied with an obvious smile on his lips.

I had been awaiting his call on the sofa, nodding off several times before the phone finally rang. I was admittedly grateful the call would be short. “And I’m exhausted.”

“Oh, darling,” he cooed. “Of course you are. You should sleep.”

“I was waiting for your call.”

“Did I keep you awake?”

I let out a laugh, shaking low in my chest. “Yes, you dolt. Now say sweet things to make up for it.”

“Ah…let’s see…”

The seconds ticked by.

I lifted myself onto my elbows. “Have you forgotten all the things you like about me?”

“No, no, not at all. I’m trying to decide how to say what I want to say.”

I stared across the room without seeing, heart pounding at the back of my tongue.

“You’ll say I’m being…I don’t know.”

“Say it, John, just say it.”

There was a thunk on the line. John leaning up against the wall of the phone booth or accidentally knocking the phone against the holder. I wondered if he was really so drunk he was swaying back and forth.

“We should tell them, shouldn’t we? They should know.”

I furrowed my brow. “Your bandmates? What on Earth do they have to do with anything?”

“No, no, no, MmmJulia.”

I sat all the way up, my adrenaline pumping, completely erasing my previous desire for sleep.

“When I get home, I’m going to tell the girls. ‘Bout you and me.”

I sucked in my cheeks to hold in a squeal of delight. I wasn’t sure it was warranted. Had to remain coolheaded. Reasonable. “You’re drunk.”

“So?”

“So, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know what –” He hiccupped. “I know what I’m saying.”

“Mhm. Well, call me in the morning and tell me if you remember, alright?”

“Julia.”

I shut my eyes and pursed my lips. Damn him for the way he said my name like that with such need it made me forget myself.

John breathed harshly into the phone. “I’ll remember.”

I swallowed. “Just because you’ll remember doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to do.”

“You don’t want me to tell them?” His question was equally taunting and disappointed.

“I didn’t say that, I just don’t know if they’re…” The girls would never be ready. It would never be the right time. Regardless of their affection for me, I was explicitly in their eyes that I was Julia. The nanny. I would not fill the role of “mum”. But stepping into the spot next to John would change that. To tell them that we’ve been pulling the wool over their eyes, doing the things their mother did with their father, hiding behind a moniker.

Children are always smarter than we give them credit for.

I could already imagine the betrayal they’d feel.

“They’re ready,” John said firmly. “They’re – I’m ready.”

But I wasn’t going to argue with that.

“Running out of time, got to go.”

“Be careful.”

“Am. Always. Sleep.”

He hung up without another word. And though my heart throbbed excitedly at the idea that maybe our transformative relationship would transform even further, I couldn’t shake the emptiness I felt looking at the phone in my hand.

Being with John, really with him, would mean taking on all parts of his life. He’d have to take on mine too, but not in the same way. Not when mine was so small in comparison. Not when I had packed away my life to fit into his because it was my job. My duty.

As his employee.

As a woman.

I let my mind rove the place I had never let it go before.

To be with John. That would mean an eventual marriage, wouldn’t it? And an eventual marriage would mean a commitment to caring for his children. Having more, should he be agreeable to it. I would go from nanny to mother.

Ostensibly, nothing should change.

But it would.

Because I had not yet seen the hard parts of a musician’s life. Over those few weeks, John was only a phone call away. If something was wrong, he could make the drive back whatever time of day.

How would I survive with him across the ocean?

How would I survive knowing the kind of man he became when the woman he loved was out of reach?

I spiraled so fast for so long that exhaustion returned quickly. I buried myself in bed, trying to push away all of my questions. I could save those for the light of day. For a sober John.

At least that’s what I thought. What I hoped.

Instead, I woke up to a crunching sound outside. Brittle and hard against my eardrums. I leapt out of bed and hurried to the windows overlooking the driveway, peering through the curtains.

There was a dark blue car I’d never seen parked askew in the driveway, illuminated by the yellow lamplight. In its wake, one of the stone planters was left shattered across the ground, dirt in the tire tracks, flowers smashed up.

I held my breath and watched as the driver got out of the car. Feral haired and bearded.

Richard Cole.

An arm shot out from the passenger window and a bellowing voice cried out, “Ya thick fuckin’ wanker!”

A voice I'd recognize anywhere. The voice of Peter Grant.

Richard growled something in return before slamming his car door and tripping toward the front door.

I leapt into action, afraid that in whatever state he was in it would wake the girls, grabbing my robe and sprinting down the backstairs, past the studio, and into the foyer.

The banging began just seconds before I reached the door. Bang, bang –

“One moment!” I hissed as loud as I could, pulling my robe on to at least be somewhat decent. I threw open the door. “What the hell are you doing here?” I say, tying a defiant knot in my robe sash.

Richard, whose first impression had not been terribly pleasant back in Montreux, had a marked look of fear in his eyes. Rather than being tense at the corners, they were loose and…wide. “John, he’s –he made us come here.”

A jab of unease in my chest. “John.”

“Yes, yes, he’s –”

I pushed past Richard and descended the front steps, paying no mind to my bare feet, set on the backdoor of the car.

Peter emerged just in time to intercept me. “Julia, wait, I need to warn you –”

There was an inconsolable sob from the back of the car, one I had not heard since that night on the kitchen floor when John broke the glass and the world shifted on its axis. “What’s wrong? What happened?” I asked, trying to get past him as my insides did everything to lurch me into the car to get to John as fast as possible.

Peter grabbed my bicep. “Listen to me. It’s all just a bad reaction.”

“Please, please, please –” John begged.

His pain was my pain. All of my nerves trembled, desperation rippling through my muscles. I pulled against Peter. Need to get to him. Need to –

John went on and on. “I need to see her, I need –”

“Let me go,” I snapped at Peter.

John shrieked. I’d never heard a sound like that from a grown man.

But it wasn’t wordless.

It was –

“Maureen!”

My entire body went rigid. I stopped fighting Peter’s strength.

“Julia…” Peter said in a soft tone.

I finally looked up at the giant. I was surprised Peter was capable of such gentleness.

“He does not know what he says,” Peter went on, words clipped and precise.

“He misses her,” I said in a vacant tone.

Peter shook his head. “No, no. He thinks she’s here.”

The crying continued. The begging for her. “What did you do to him?” I asked, trying to buy myself time before I had to face the wailing mess.

“No one did anything –” Richard began to argue.

“Cole, fuck off,” Peter pulled out his Mr. Hyde impression before shifting back to Dr. Jekyll. “You know what it’s like? The drinking and then the pills and –”

I ripped my arm from his touch. “I do not know what it’s like.” Not even my torrid past could have prepared me for this.

Peter huffed, holding his last thread of patience for me. “It’s a bad trip. That’s all. He’s confused.”

“If it’s just a bad trip why did you –”

He grimaced. “He’s been going on like this for hours now. We can’t get him to stop. And we thought seeing you would bring him back. Remind him of the…the reality.”

I looked between Peter and Richard. Their expressions told me everything. They knew. Not only in a Montreux, “Let’s get John laid,” way.

They knew everything.

Gathering my courage, I pulled away from Peter and Richard, grabbed the car door handle, and pulled it open.

John was splayed out in the seat, head resting in the lap of a man I’d never seen before whose exhaustion with the situation was split with a smile of relief at the sight of me. However, John didn't seem to notice me as he convulsed with full body sobs.

“John?” I said, interrupting the weeping.

It took considerable effort for John to lift himself and look at me. His face was streaked with tears, hair a wreck, and his eyes black as night with the kind of high that takes you low. “Oh. Julia.”

Is that disappointment?

A smile crossed his face. “Juuuulia." He slapped his palm to his forehead, a bubbly guffaw tripping out of his mouth. “It’s Julia, of course it is.”

“We told you we’d take you home,” the man says meekly, voice tinged with an Irish accent.

“Yes, but I didn’t – I forgot –” John wiped his hand down his face and collapsed back into the arms of the small Irishman. His expression looked like it was melting. “Not Maureen. Julia.”

My stomach twisted. I leaned down onto the seat and held out my hand. “John, why don’t we head inside?”

John reached out for my hand, fingers stumbling to interlock with mine.

I pulled while the man pushed until John was sat on the edge of the seat, the soles of his shoes landing against the gravel as if for the first time. He curled forward, his head making him top heavy. I braced his shoulders. “John –”

While his body lacked strength everywhere else, his arms looped around me, right under my backside, his face buried into my belly. He inhaled deeply and then, on the exhale, said again, “Julia.”

If we weren’t being watched, I would have reciprocated the intimacy. Instead, I tucked my hands under his arms and started to lift. “Can you –” I grunted. “Stand?”

“Of course, I can stand,” he mumbled, rising to his feet, dragging his face up the length of my body until I forced him away.

“There you go,” I said with an attempted smile, my hands on his shoulders. “Let’s go upstairs and get you ready for bed, hm?”

He nodded hardily. “Oh yes. Yes, yes –“ He spun on his heel and took a step forward. Immediately, his legs gave out, crumpling beneath him like paper.

“Easy, there,” Peter said, catching John by the upper arm before he fell to the ground.

In Peter’s grip, John looked like a toddler being dragged out of a store for throwing a tantrum. I couldn’t help my revulsion. “Let’s get him inside," Peter ordered, almost nonplussed.

Richard grabbed John from the other side and began to drag him into the house.

I padded behind them, trying to get their attention. “You have to be quiet, the girls are –‘”

“Uh huh.”

“Take him up the backstairs. To my room,” I said, no longer afraid of my lack of propriety.

John’s head bobbed backward.

“Jesus Christ, for a little guy he’s dense, isn’t he?” Richard strained as they dragged John to the door.

“For fuck’s sake.” Peter ripped John from Richard’s grip, a doll rather than a person, and threw him over his shoulder. “Lead me, Cole.”

“Please, just not the main bedroom,” I squeaked, trying to snake past them to lead them where I wanted them to go.

John turned his head against Peter’s back toward me, eyes gleaming. “Juuuuulia.”

I stopped in my tracks and contemplated running in the other direction. That was not John. Not the John I knew. This was his doppelganger. It must have been. Otherwise, this was an alternate personality, one I wasn’t supposed to see.

A part of him I had been blissfully ignorant to.

I watched them go inside, remaining planted in one spot, wishing I could go home.

But home was here.

“Mandrax.”

I turned to find the little Irishman at my elbow. He was rearranging his black locks, palming it flat on his head.

“At least some of it was Mandrax,” he said, dropping his hands at his sides and smiling sympathetically. “Pills. Mix them with alcohol and lord knows what else…”

We both stared through the open door, watching Peter and Richard struggling up the stairs.

“He’ll be fine in the morning,” he offered.

“Yes, but will I?” I said, attempting a joke.

His eyebrows lifted. “That is a question, isn’t it?”

I exhaled through my nose, something like a laugh, but pathetic.

“I’m BP. The boys call me Beep.”

I tried to smile. In better circumstances, I would ask for the rest of his story. But tonight I wasn’t allotted that privilege. “I’m Julia.”

“Mm. Yes, well aware.”

I wondered how aware. Was he aware in passing? By accident? Had John tripped into another realm of consciousness and waxed poetic about me? “Sorry you got roped into this.”

He shrugged. “Happens with them.”

“Fuck’s sake, Cole!” Peter boomed from inside.

My body lurched back into action, into the house and up the main staircase. “You need to be quiet!” I scolded in the loudest whisper I could muster.

Peter turned, halfway in the door of the master, causing John’s head to knock into the doorframe. John whimpered.

“Oh, fucking hell," Richard hissed.

I followed Peter and Richard into the master bedroom and monitored John as he was laid out across the bed. I didn’t even care at that point they hadn’t followed instructions. I just wanted them gone.

“There you go, mate. You’re home now, alright? Nothing to cry over. Julia's right 'ere. She'll take care of you, alright?" Peter said, dusting his hands together. “Julia, hope you don’t mind if we bunk up.”

“Here?!” This was sheer lunacy.

Richard snorted, “No, in the stables. Where else?”

“We can’t make that drive again, not after all this. We’ll be out of your hair in the morning and we’ll take ‘im with us,” Peter explained, jerking his thumb at John.

I glanced at John who seemed nearly catatonic with his eyes trained on the ceiling and his hands bunched up on his chest. He’d be fine for a few moments, I reasoned. “Fine. Follow me.”

I led Richard, Peter, and BP, who lingered in the doorway like a phantom, down the hall to the guest rooms, the doors directly across from the girls’. “I swear to god, if you make any noise at all, I’ll have you drawn and quartered tonight.”

"I'd believe her," Beep muttered.

“Promise, all we need is a place to lay our heads, love,” Peter said, giving me a squeeze on the shoulder.

I threw my hands up in the air. “Just don’t wake the girls and we won’t have a problem.”

I started back down the hallway, leaving them to squabble and figure out who would share a room since there were only two to speak of. Before I slipped into the master, I glared over my shoulder and hushed them once more with narrowed, deathly eyes.

In an instant, the three men disappeared into the guest rooms.

With that settled, I could deal with John.

The room was silent except for his breathing.

It was the first time I got a good look at the room. Everything was spotlessly clean, not a hair out of place. Just a thin coating of dust across the room. And a glass on one of the night stands with a dried up ring of dust in the bottom. The water had completely evaporated.

A chill went through me, imagining who might have put the glass there with the intention to return to it at a later date.

Whether it was Maureen or John didn’t change the tragedy of the object.

John began to hum and swing his legs. He flung one hand through the air. It landed on his belt buckle. “Get these off,” he muttered in discomfort. His hand flopped like a dying fish, unable to grip and twist the leather the way he needed to be able to free himself.

“I’ll help.”

And that’s how we got into the conversation of the veins in my eyes being lightning bolts and the attempt at me getting his shirt up over his head and the flirtations and the…

“You really ought to buy a lady dinner first, Maureen.”

I ignored him though I strained not to cry. I removed his belt, but didn’t dare touch the closure on his trousers. His arms were slack enough that I was able to pull his jumper up his neck, then work it over his head. When he reemerged, he puffed hair away from his mouth, giggling. “Randy,” he said, unable to form a sentence around it.

“I’m not randy, John,” I say with firmness.

“You’re removing my clothes, M –”

“Julia,” I interrupted. “I’m Julia. Not Maureen.”

John’s lazy eyes crimped open, clarity forming somewhere in the back of his mind. “Damn. Julia. Right. Julia. Maureen is…” He laughed. “She’s dead.”

I wanted to get away from him as fast as possible, but I couldn’t just leave him half dressed in the master. In hindsight, I should have. I tried to tune out his repetition of the word, “Dead,” as if it was a beat to a song rather than a horrible truth as I pulled his undershirt up halfway, revealing his pale navel.

John’s hand slid around my wrist. “Jewwwwwwwwwel.”

I suppressed a smile for the nickname. Auntie Gin’s nickname. “Take it off the rest of the way if you can,” I muttered, then went to root through the dresser for a nightshirt or something to cover him up.

Measured breaths. Clenched muscles. Only a few more moments. He’ll be out soon.

John made sounds of struggle behind me. I didn’t turn despite wanting to help. There was the soft sound of fabric falling to the ground followed by a grunt of relief. “I feel funny.”

“Of course you do. That’s why you need to get some sleep,” I say, grabbing a very wrinkled nightshirt from the drawer.

John was no longer squirming; he looked tossed across the bed like a ragdoll. Breath thick and deep. The only thing that made it clear he was still alive.

I returned to him with the shirt. One more step to victory. John seemed unaffected, staring off at something. A hallucination or a waking sleep. I took this as my opportunity to remove his pants. It took a bit of effort to wiggle them out from beneath his body without his help but not much. My heart plummeted to see his bare legs, the slight of skin where his briefs shrouded his crotch. Because for the first time in a long time, I didn’t want him. The feeling of desire…all drained out of me.

Of course, it’s more than natural not to want someone at all times.

But since Montreux, before then even, all I had done was want. And I had had.

What emptiness would arise if desire was not there to fill it?

I didn’t want to think about it.

“Just the shirt and then you can rest, John, alright?” I said softly.

He cooperated as much as he could. Sitting up took all his might, but once upright, I was able to shimmy the shirt over his head, down his torso. It was long enough to hit midthigh, swallowing up his small frame. And his smallness made me even sadder.

“There you are,” I said. “Ready for bed.”

John started to lean forward. If I dared step away, he would teeter off the edge of the bed and come crashing to the floor. I remained before him, let his forehead clunk against my clavicle.

“You didn’t just pass out, did you?” I asked. My pulse quickened. I grabbed his arms to shake him. “John, you’re awake still aren’t you?”

“Yesssss,” he slurred into my chest. “I’m…” he sighed. “Awake.”

His lips traced my skin with each word, like a baby drooling against my breast and…it endeared me to him. I wish it hadn’t.

I tentatively scraped my fingers through his hair to the back of his scalp and dropped a kiss to the crown of his head. He didn't need my ire. Not right now. In the morning, I'd want him to remember the way I cared for him? Not the anger or disdain.

“Mmm…”

“Julia,” I said firmly. “I’m Julia.”

“MmmmJuuuuuuulia…” John self-corrected.

“Yes, that’s right.”

John’s mouth opened wider, a messy kiss against my skin, spit trailing over my clavicle.

“John…” I admonished. But I did not draw away.

A mistake.

I let him kiss the spot over and over. Juvenile. Inexperienced. Like a barrister’s son in a closet.

Something about it…so nostalgic.

I could have a brief moment of longing. Of realizing how good it was to hold him when I expected another week before he'd be home. Of remembering what he said to me earlier that night on the phone. If I was going to be his and vice versa in not only our eyes but those of the girls…I could do this. I was sure I could do this.

Only a brief moment, though.

Because in one singular moment in time, that delight was eclipsed by pain. Sharp pain, potentially skin splitting.

He bit me.

Teeth sunk into skin, viscous and full of claim.

John fucking bit me.

I yelped out, tried to jerk away, not caring if he tore the flesh off my body. Would be better to lose skin than be cannibalized by a lover.

John wrapped his around me, splayed his hands against my back, overcome by a sudden strength, and pulled me toward him.

“John, let go of me,” I cried out, pushing on his shoulders.

His mouth finally released the patch of skin he’d suckled. He growled. Something. Words I didn’t know, could not hear, did not care about.

I just wanted him to let go.

Something was coursing through him that reversed all the lethargy, something that propelled his strength to a level I’d never known and didn’t know he was capable of. Before I could squirm out of his grasp, John pulled me off my feet and rolled himself over me so we were clumsily pressed together on the bed.

He dragged his mouth across my chest to another open plot of skin.

With an open palm, I pressed his forehead away from me.

He laughed, muttered a garble of my name.

My whole body was hotter than hell as I tried to wriggle myself out from under him, inching further and further onto the bed. But somehow, John’s body had transformed into a lead curtain over me, pinning me to the bed, one of my hands unceremoniously scrunched behind my back.

I could not move.

And he had all the control.

“John, don’t,” I said through a tense whisper. I could scream. I could shout. But I wondered who would come running first. The men. Or the girls.

I couldn’t risk it being the latter.

John’s hands slid down my thighs, moving up the fabric until he cupped my bottom and squeezed. Hard. Until it pinched.

I again tried to squirm away. “You’re hurting me!”

“Randy…” he drawled, lifting his head and smiling stupidly.

John launched himself forward, toward my mouth, his hardened erection grinding into my belly, painful from the poor angle.

His teeth gnashed into my lips. I tasted metal in my mouth, blood drawn from a split lip.

I had only a moment to think.

One of us would be the villain in the morning. And I couldn’t bear for it to be John.

I forced my hand onto his chin, cupping it as hard as I could, then pressed him back away from me, enough that he couldn’t snag another kiss.

Our eyes met for a split second and I nearly lost my bravado.

I couldn’t live with myself if I did, though. That’s what I decided in that moment.

I released his chin, wound my open palm back, and slapped him hard in the side of his face, my palm connecting with his cheek and part of his upper lip, and my fingers clipping his nose.

He howled in pain, retreating back onto his knees.

I was released from the vise of his body and yet I felt as though I was moving through molasses as I dragged myself back across the bed to the opposite edge.

John’s hand covered his face, the wince still settled over his eyes.

I waited. A moment. Another. Praying he would find reality again.

Finally, he withdrew his hand to reveal a streak of cherry red blood pouring from his nose and down his chin. Quite literally dripping. Already a few dots blotted the fabric of the bedspread.

I didn’t know I had that kind of strength in me.

John was at a loss for words. Nonplussed, of course, by the mess. But his eyes were filled with that same distress he met me with when he was laid up in the back of the car, jerking back and forth, full of new tears. “I…” he started.

“I told you to stop,” I said icily. “I told you not to.”

He looked down at the bedspread spattered in his blood. It was a lot of blood, enough to give me cause to worry. Except I couldn’t.

Not with terror gripping my body.

What do you do when the man you know shows you the monster you didn’t think existed in him?

John folded his lips together, blood smearing through the creases. “Mm. Mmm.”

I would not, could not sit here and be called his wife’s name. Not after he nearly had the gall to take from me.

I tore up from the bed without another word. The floor traveled beneath my feet, something in control of my body I had never known before, until I had my hand on the cool door knob. It settled my temperature just enough to come back to reality.

“No, no, no,” John was moaning. Movement. Footsteps. “Don’t go. Don’t go.”

I threw open the door and turned to slam it behind me, getting one last glimpse of John to my horror.

His blue eyes were alert to the point I thought they might fall right out of his head. His hair mussed. His face…bloodied. And the fresh nightshirt looked like a smock he’d worn to butcher a pig.

And he was coming toward me.

I did not wait.

I shut it with all my might and held tight to the knob. It jerked and jittered in my hand, scraping my skin. But I didn’t care. The animal was to stay inside the cage. That was my only goal.

John put up a good fight, clawing at the door, desperate to pull it open. On more than one occasion, he managed to pull hard enough to get an inch or two of space for his fingers to slip through. If he could just wrench the door open, he could pull me back inside.

I leaned back, all my weight going into keeping the door shut, and tucked my head between my biceps, praying he’d give up.

Over my heart pounding in my ears came his sounds. “Please, please, please let me out. Please don’t leave me alone.”

A despondent cry shuddered through the door, so loud it vibrated the door knob. A thud against the wood. No doubt the weight of his body giving up. Giving in. The inching slide of his form to the floor. The repetition of the word “please” until it was shrouded by tearful sobs.

I fell to my knees in front of the door, my hand still on the door knob in case I needed to tame the beast again.

John was only an inch away. Weeping.

Not for me.

Not even because of me.

It was all for her.

All the same, I leant my head against the door and listened to him weep, held vigil. I didn’t have vespers for the mass, but I remained there all the same though I could still feel his fingers dimpling my thighs though I’d said “don’t”.

“What did I do wrong? What did I do? Why did you leave?”

“I’m sorry,” I repeated over and over to every question until eventually not a single question was left.

All that remained was soft, hollow breathing on the other side of the door.

"Go to bed, John," I said hoarsely, trying to smile so my voice sounded soothing. "It will all be better in the morning. Alright?"

There was no answer.

"John?"

Nothing. I thanked the lord he was probably asleep.

I dropped my hand from the door knob. My muscles and bones ached from keeping the position for so long.

“Julia.”

I jumped at the sound of the small voice. I turned to find Tamara in the hallway outside her door, her ruddy hair all askew.

“What’s wrong? Why are you up?”

She rolled her hands in the front of her nightgown. “What’s going on?”

I forced a smile. “Nothi—”

Something thumped against the door to the bedroom. Someone. A final rallying cry.

I grabbed the door knob again just to be sure.

“Who’s in there?” Tamara asked, her eyes widening with fear.

“No one,” I said without thinking. “Don’t…worry, alright?”

Children know more than you give them credit for. They are also children. And sometimes, though it hurts, the children must be lied to.

“Go back to bed,” I said. “Everything is fine.”

Though the hallway was dim, I could see her eyebrows knit together. Her eyes flicked from me to the door and back again. Then, she nodded and did as she was told, disappearing into the other room in an instant.

I sat with my back to the door and closed my eyes. It had started with a drunken promise. One that might break my heart, yes, but a break so minor compared to this.

Lifting a hand to my chest, I carefully slid my fingers along the inflamed bite mark.

The depressions made by his teeth remained.

tag list: @jimmys-zeppelin, @kari-12-10, @grxtsch, @ritacaroline, @kyunisixx, @salixfragilis, @jimmypages, @dollyvandal, @cassiana-on-dark-side, @faisonsunreve, @sastrugie, @seventieswhore, @mayspringcome, @barrettavenue, @foreverandadaydarling, @glimmerofsanity, @montereypopgroupie, @lzep, @jimmysdragonsuit13, @n0quart3r, @larsgoingtomars, @paginate54, @leveeisbreaking, @callmethehunter (let me know if you’d like to be added 💋)

#thank you em for the feedback that was so good i could cry #john paul jones #led zeppelin #wildflowers #john paul jones x oc #wf #jjj

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followerex · 2 months

Text

Sugar's Sorrow

TW: Torture, asphyxiation

Sometimes, Eternal Sugar wondered if she and her friends ever really were heroes once. If the whole idea of them once being admired by the Cookies of Earthbread was just something she dreamed up in one of her long slumbers.

But that was all she did. Wonder. In the end, it didn’t matter.

She slumbered in the skies above her former home, her former paradise. Why continue to fight for happiness in the real world when it was all possible within the land of dreams?

It was these thoughts and more that slithered through her mind as she yawned…then paused. A whistling sound echoed through the air.

clink

And just like that, a chain wrapped around her neck. She only got a chance to blink before something on the other end yanked. Eternal Sugar Cookie was sent spiraling to the ground, barely slowing her fall before she slammed into the earth.

As she coughed lightly and the dust cleared, she heard a familiar voice…and saw a familiar - yet different - face.

“Hello, dreaming fiend.”

She frowned, though only slightly. “Sterling Syrup Cookie.”

“It’s Blinding Syrup Cookie now. The Witches you betrayed rebaked me into something greater than ever before.”

“I see…” Eternal Sugar Cookie was somewhat concerned about this - she remembered Syrup always being loyal to the Witches, but this felt…different, somehow.

“And now it is time for your judgment.” And that was the only warning she had before the chain tightened, and she couldn’t breathe. It…it would be fine. She just needed to loosen it a little-

And then, Blinding Syrup Cookie pulled. And Eternal Sugar hit the ground once again, coughing and wheezing from the sudden force on her windpipe.

She heard the sound of something thunking into the ground behind her, before a second chain wrapped around her throat, tightening just as much as the last one. And another. And another.

I…I can’t breathe, I can’t-

The chains dug deeper into her dough, as they pulled her in every direction - if one loosened, the others would tighten further.

No, please, I don’t-

“Know this, beast. This is all your fault.”

Someone, anyone, help me!

“For you have sinned against the Witches.”

I’m scared, I just-

“And this is only the beginning of your punishment.”

I DON’T WANT TO DIE!

And then…the chains crumbled into nothing. Some from her powers, perhaps…but others, from…something else. Eternal Sugar dropped to her knees, trembling as she gulped down air and eventually threw up, a sickly pink liquid that smelled far too sweet spilling across the ground. Who…? She looked up, eyes blurry…but she still recognized who it was. Who the two before her were.

“That’s enough, Syrup.”

Shadow Milk Cookie and Silent Salt Cookie.

And Shadow Milk did not look happy at all. Which was terrifying.

“Well well well…I thought you took pleasure in the suffering of Cookies, traitor of deceit?”

“What you just did…was anything but funny, Blinding Syrup Cookie.” Shadow Milk snarled, before looking back at her.

“Get out of here.” Shadow Milk Cookie said, voice stern yet warm. And Eternal Sugar did. (And part of her thought “Perhaps we were heroes once after all.”)

She wasn’t weak. Far from it. But she…

She was scared.

She didn’t want to fight Blinding Syrup. She still felt the chains around her throat.

And so, she ran. And behind her, she heard the sounds of battle. The dark screeches of Deceit, the blade swings of Silence…and the clanging chains of Fanaticism.

#cookie run kingdom oc #cookie run kingdom #eternal sugar cookie #shadow milk cookie #tw: torture #tw: asphyxiation

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raygirlramblings · 6 months

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oh look it’s another Captain Laserhawk discussion, who’d have thunk it.

This time I want to go into detail about something which has been bugging me for a while and which I’ve yet to get a decent explanation for. The eternal question of WHO WAS PHONE?

More specifically, who was it who messaged Rayman to direct him to seek out Bullfrog at the courthouse?

Spoilers and discussion under the cut:

So, the general consensus amongst fans and viewers falls into 2 camps of who the mysterious voice was. People seem to think it was either the board of Directors who control Rayman and Eden (who we will call The Templars here just because it fits in universe), and the other half say it was The Warden aka Sarah Fisher acting on her own volition without the knowledge of her fellow Templars. People base this seemingly on the fact the call seemed to come from the Directors based on the image we see on Rayman’s screen matching those from his precious conversations.

Personally, I think neither of these options make any sense.

Firstly the Templars. Their plan seems to be (from the view of people who assume the message is from them) is that it’s a trap to lure Rayman to Red so they can capture him. This is RIDICULOUS and such a convoluted and messy plan. If the Templars wanted to capture Rayman they didn’t need to lure him out of his apartment with some vague message. He was alone and vulnerable in his apartment wasting away on booze and cocaine. And you know FOR SURE Eden has cameras trained on their mascot boy at all times of the day. The idea they would need some ridiculous trap to capture him is ludicrous.

Moreover I don’t believe the Templars even knew where Rayman was going when he went to see Bullfrog. When Red arrives he says ‘I've been looking everywhere for you’. Why would he say this if luring Rayman to Bullfrog was the Templar’s plan? If it was their plan why wasn’t Red in the room with Bullfrog to capture Rayman immediately? They didn’t need to leave him to have some long, mind opening convo with Bullfrog; if anything that made things exponentially worse for them as it was the straw that broke Rayman enough to become Ramon and kill them all (which again, the Templars are SURPRISED BY).

So no, I don’t believe the ‘seek the frog’ message came from the Templars.

But what about Sarah Fisher?

Again we have to think what her motivation is for pointing Rayman in the direction of Bullfrog. What does she have to gain from doing this? Sarah wanted access to the Wasteland VR setup, and if Eden launches its attack on the Wasteland it could destroy that. She wanted to get to Marcus Holloway and seize control of the system.

Rayman does not factor into her plan in any way. Neither did Bullfrog. She had Laserhawk and that was part of her key to get to Holloway. Everyone else was expendable.

‘But maybe she wanted Rayman to take out the rest of the Templars!’

How would she be able to predict that?! She would have had to know EXACTLY what Bullfrog was going to say to Rayman, how it would affect Ray’s psyche, assume Red would blow his mission to capture Rayman, and assume Rayman had access to enough firepower and skill to get to the Templars and kill them. THERE WAS LITERALLY NO WAY SHE COULD PREDICT ANY OF THAT.

Hell, she got LUCKY that Dolph had a change of heart and attempted to return to the city to save Bullfrog, and in turn he ran into the army heading to the Wasteland and wrecked them all in spite of her attempts to sabotage his robot parts. If he had stayed in the VR beach paradise or had died being crushed by Red in his mech the army would have swarmed the facility and EVERYONE WOULD HAVE PROBABLY DIED.

Sarah’s plan is purely based on luck and the fact that Marcus showed mercy to her. The idea she was a puppet master for a completely random set of events surrounding her goal is ridiculous. Sure it worked out perfectly for her in the end as the only surviving Templar but I still refuse to believe she planned for that. Her ultimate end goal was the VR facility, not power over the Templars. Once she had the VR facility she would have found a way to take out her fellow Templars without Ramon's help.

So if it wasn’t Sarah Fisher or the Templars then WHO WAS PHONE?

Thankfully we have some suggestions which actually make sense in the grander scheme of the world, but they do rely on a little theory crafting which sets up for S2.

For me there are 3 possible people who could have been on that call posing as the Templars.

1 - Marcus Holloway

2 - Sam Fisher

3 - Alex Taylor

Marcus Holloway is an easy one. As a master Hacker who has been breaking into Eden’s systems for decades I can imagine he has some methods of getting into the systems and pretending to be whoever he wants to be. The only reason he didn't do it sooner is that Rayman was constantly protected by Eden so any attempts to get to him would have been pointless. But after his TV freakout and being replaced it's a perfect time for Marcus to get to him and try and undermine the Templar's control.

'Oh but how would Marcus know about any of what happened with Rayman if the Templars just replaced him?'.

How would Marcus know about anything that happened with Dolph, Alex, Sarah, the Ghosts or anything else the happened in Eden if he wasn't there? He's a master Hacker, we can assume he has ways.

But why? I'm assuming primarily because using Eden's own propaganda pawn to undermine them is wildly poetic to Marcus. Maybe there is some empathy for Rayman here but much like Sarah he had no idea to what lengths Rayman/Ramon's mental breakdown would go. It worked out for him in the end though with the Templars being massacred.

Sam Fisher relies a little more on speculation. In the post credits scene of the final episode we see Dolph chatting to Sam in a digital void. There is some suggestion that the world we are seeing is not real. A Matrix world with reset abilities. This would explain a lot of things which could easily have been deaths turning out to be fine (Red being a clear example, also Dolph being shot at point blank range by Alex and surviving).

If Sam does have some kind of 'overseer' position this gives him access to far more information than anyone else. He could foresee the only way out for Bullfrog being at Rayman/Ramon's hands as Dolph was too far away and everyone else was dead. A little bit of manipulation of Rayman's fragile psyche in this matrix world would be easy for someone with a birds eye view that Sam could have.

But this is PURE SPECULATION.

As is the idea that Alex Taylor is responsible...seeing as he's dead. But before he died he took over most of Pagan Min's men and their connections. Either he set up the plan to be enacted in the event of his death or he has some similar kind of setup Sam has. After all, Alex's opening of the dimension X portal allowing the Rabbids in is what lead to Rayman's freak out at Red on TV, leading to his replacement. Alex seems to have some grander picture in mind for Eden before his death, and as violent and ridiculous as it is it does tie into his desire for chaos. The shaking up of the entire Eden system seems to reach beyond just screwing with the populace. Much like Marcus, the concept of using Rayman against the Templars would be part of the complete chaos Alex is looking for. With the Templars dead there is a power vacuum.

I know this one is a bit of a stretch but to be brutally honest I'll accept Alex toying with things from beyond the grave before I accept that the Templars sent Rayman to Bullfrog in an attempt to contain him XD

So yeah, those are my ridiculously long thoughts regarding the WHO WAS PHONE mystery. You are welcome to wildly disagree with me or point out my lack of logic as you see fit XD Also point out if I missed some important plotpoint :3

Heck there's an argument to be made that the message came from someone we've not met yet, or another member of the Templars working alone, but we have nothing to confirm this yet. Hopefully if we get a season 2 all will be revealed!

#captain laserhawk #Ramon #Bullfrog #discussion #spoilers

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thatfreshi · 7 months

Text

"When I Feel Used" (Uni AU P. 3)

I am sorry for the angst in advance, my finger slipped

tw - references to alcohol and sex, lots of yelling, hints at abuse

@justporo

The two of you are silent, and you can sense some kind of negative energy on him. You're not sure if it's anger or shame, or maybe both. All you know is he had sex with you, but didn't really want to. It makes you feel a little gross, trying to figure out what even happened. Astarion hides it well though, shifting through many different personas constantly.

"All that and you didn't even get any champagne."

He makes the joke, hoping it will evoke some kind of laugh from you. You say nothing. Instead, you get out at the next stoplight. He doesn't stop you. It doesn't take too long to get back to campus. Once outside your dorm, you are met yet again with intense arguing.

"Damnit Karlach, you can't skate out here! How many times do I have to tell you?!"

A man with short braids is shouting at a muscle-heavy woman, who is currently shredding on the stair railing.

"Why? Because your silly admin mom told you I can't? Just relax already, learn to have some fun."

The woman then sticks her tongue out at him.

"Why, I should tell Coach!"

"You wouldn't. You're too busy being the uptight SGA president to visit the gym."

"Karlach, please just go skate somewhere else."

"Wyll it's almost 11 pm. Where else would you like me to go?"

"Anywhere! Quite literally anywhere else!"

The woman, who you notice has shaved sides in her hair, finally sees you.

"Hey! You wanna come skate?"

She shouts across the little clearing in front of the dorm.

"Okay, no, do not encourage her please."

At this point, you try desperately to ignore them. It's been such a strange night already, and you just want to sleep. As long as Lae'zel and Shadowheart haven't burnt down the room yet. You pass by the man, who places a kind hand on your shoulder.

"It's Wyll by the way, your SGA president. Let me know if you need anything."

He gives a soft smile, and then turns to yell at Karlach again, but she's already gone.

"Ugh, damn you Karlach!"

When you finally get back to the room, it's oddly silent. Instead of trying to decide whether they're asleep or murdered each other, you simply go to your room, and head to bed almost immediately. You sit there for a while though, thoughts about the night buzzing in your head. Perhaps you'd tell Shadowheart about it tomorrow, see what she makes of the whole thing.

While you would've loved to wake up to the peaceful sun through your window, or perhaps maybe even your alarm clock, you're awoken to Lae'zel and Shadowheart screaming at 5 am.

"You know my leg is fucked, you can't just trip me like that!"

"Oh, seems I didn't notice. Whoopsies."

You can practically hear the smile on Shadowheart's face, until you instead hear the two start to get physical. Dreadfully picking up your legs and getting out of bed, you open the door and stomp down the hall.

"God damn it, can we not right now!"

They pause and stare at you. Lae'zel has Shadowheart in a chokehold with her elbow, and Shadowheart had just kicked her in the leg.

"I already had basically the worst night ever, and I would've liked to sleep in and not think about it, but no! Here you two are, screaming at each other! Does no one in this school know how to act?!"

With that, you head towards the front door, about to leave in your pajamas to simply get out of the dorm. When you slam the door open, it makes a loud thunk against someone who apparently just tried to knock on the door.

"Ugh, and why are you here!"

The pale 'red-eyed' man from last night was at your door for some reason.

"Because I'm trying to sleep, and these bitches are being too loud!"

Astarion yells over your shoulder at them.

"I forgot you were in this room. Sorry you have to deal with them."

You try to keep yourself from exploding from all the overwhelming stress.

"Respectfully, you cannot invite me out, introduce me to some fucking freak, admit you were trying to get me to work for said freak, and then fuck me, and then be a fucking weirdo about it!"

So much for not exploding.

"Wait, you two fucked?"

"Shadowheart, read the room!"

Lae'zel hisses.

"Yeah Shadowheart."

Astarion swipes a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

"You were the one that started dragging us outside..."

He nonchalantly looks at his acrylics.

"Yes! Because yeah you're hot, and it was a weird stressful situation, and I haven't gotten any in a while, okay!"

He sort of just, stares at you wide-eyed.

"And then you thought 'oh, I'll just act like I'm completely uninterested afterwards, because that's normal people behavior,' like what's up with that? Didn't even want to at least say 'you know Tav, that was pretty good sex.' I mean I'm sure you've had better, I'm a little rusty, but damn! So yeah, maybe it was hot, but it kind of pisses me off when I feel used."

Astarion is entirely silent. The two women behind you are now no longer fighting, but instead staring at you while you rant at him.

"Oh, and another thing! I know you think you have all this pretty boy privilege, but you think you can just bribe a cop with sexual favors? Because what the fuck was that? But nooooo, you'll never get in trouble for anything because you're the city's favorite femboy. I can't even go an entire hour without having some article come across my feed with you and your six 'brothers and sisters,' which is also fucking weird by the way. So yeah, forgive me if I'm mad at you and all your arrogance."

You weren't looking at anything in particular while you were yelling these things, not really thinking about how you were airing his business out in front of your roommates. When you look at his face again he's... tearing up?

"I... I have to go."

And he's down the hall before you can say anything, wiping at his tears with the sleeves of his sweater.

"Holy shit."

Shadowheart laughs. You're in shock, unsure of why you just said all that. You were kind of mad at him, but you didn't think you'd make him cry or anything.

"Looks like someone finally told him like it is."

You turn around to two girls smiling, finally agreeing on something for once.

"I- is he gonna be okay?"

"Oh, he'll be fine. Probably just a bruised ego. He'll pay to have it fixed like everything else."

Lae'zel laughs at Shadowheart's comment.

"I'm happy we agree on one thing. That man, is a bitch."

You feel... guilty. Something still isn't right. Memories of the night before come into frame, Szarr's hand on his shoulder, Aurelia's comment about 'private business.' No, something is entirely wrong here. But then again, you know these types of things can be far too complex for someone of your level of fame, which is none. So, you simply listen to Shadow and Lae's quips, and the three of you bond in the common room for the morning.

~~~

His phone rings in his pocket when he gets back to his room, out of breath from the sudden emotion he wasn't expecting to feel. How had you seen through him so easily? How had he been so sloppy? Astarion takes the phone out of his pocket.

Cazador

The contact calling him made his skin crawl. He sniffled, trying to clear his nose, and picked up the phone.

"Mhm."

Yes, of course.

Yes, I'll be there.

No.

Why would I lie- yes. No. Yes, I already did.

Alright."

His hands tremble as Cazador hangs up. His memories float to the scathing read you just gave him, and then back to the night before. Without much thought, he tosses his phone, and it lands in the sink of his kitchenette, hitting each side of the aluminum from the strength of his throw. The need to scream, the need to get out, the need to run. And yet he's silent, still, and stagnant. Instead, he lies against an empty wall, making his way to the floor, crumbling into the pain. The never-ending pain.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #angst #freshiau

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