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hanasnx · 11 months

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trust

summary: your little crush on the lord you serve is exacerbated when he saves your life.

word count: 0.8k | character(s): darth vader x reader

notes: it was stuck in my head; you and vader aren’t in a relationship but you work together and get caught in this mess together.

warnings: vader being the lil bitch he is <3 no gore no violence tbh

“Look out!” the man overhead jeered, gripping tightly around your upper arm as he haphazardly tossed you off the open hatch. You yelped out of instinct, before landing hard in the arms of your lord.

Darth Vader holds you much like a bride, and the chaos around you falls away. The gaze of his visor is fixed on the ship you were just thrown from, and he is eerily silent. In one dark second, you fear you’ve disappointed him, and the current compromising position becomes most dire.

“Put me down!” you demand, thrashing in his grip out of humiliation. Complying, he drops your legs, and your feet are met with the nimble peak of the spire you both now balance on. Your toes overstep the edge, and once your eyes meet the ground far below, you panic. The adrenaline of the setting controls you, and you cling onto the Sith Lord. “Pick me back up- pick me back up!” Whatever is within reach: his cape, his robes, his shoulders are all fair game to use to your advantage, climbing up him without a second thought.

His concentration and his freedom to force the shuttle to hold— to tear it back to him in order to escape this and teach those who wronged him a lesson— is broken, now focused on you and your frightened idiocy. The arm around your middle remains, but he grabs hold of your wrist as he stumbles back because of how you throw yourself at him. You scream in the face of death, and he counter-balances with your weight. As the two of you straighten, sharing the limited space chest to chest, an intense red cakes your cheeks from the proximity as well as your display of cowardice. He towers over you, and you feel the weight of his arms around you.

If it were anyone else, he’d care not if they plunged to meet the Maker, but it was you. As infuriating as it is.

“I’m—“ you begin your apology, but you are swiftly interrupted.

“Calm yourself.” His rumbling command rolls through like a thunder, and you obey him so as to not worsen your unlucky circumstances. “I have no time for your groveling. There are more pressing matters at hand.”

You gulp, and you nod.

His arm moves to grasp your other wrist, raising them above your head, and twisting you delicately— much like a dainty doll— so your back is to him, his indicators jabbing into your skin. You try to ignore how much you like him taking control of a situation, so you don’t have to. Habitually, your fingers cup over his gloves, and tighten when he lifts you. Your feet part from the ground, and point, swaying in his hold as you gather the words.

“Wait, wait, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to drop you.” he replies as he steps forward, the vision of life-defying height causing a lightning bolt of terror to course through your veins.

“What?” you cry out, your legs kicking out, begging to be reinstated to the spire as narrow as it is. “No, no, my lord, please, I’ve done nothing—“

“Quiet! I am not condemning you to execution! I am going to catch you.” The anger in his voice, reminiscent of frustration rather than wrath, makes you tremble like a newborn fawn anyway.

“What? No!”

“It is the only way.”

“It is not!”

Still he keeps you as you are, and you fight off tears.

“You chose to ruin our chances when I could’ve caught the prosecutor's stolen shuttle! Accept your fate or die.”

“Stop!”

His grip loosens, and you slip through, the thrill of falling shooting your stomach into your chest. Wind rips through your hair so loud you cannot hear your own scream. A cushion of air, invisible to the eye, envelopes you, slowing your descent. It’s nothing, there is no matter nor pressure; you float yet you are not feather-light. Your confusion interjects your cry, looking up to see Vader’s steady and shaped hand. He caught you, like he said he would.

His range is incredible, and you wouldn’t have believed it if you didn’t witness it. The spire he remained at the top of, was kilometers tall. Yet you sense no struggle as the force around you dissipates, and you land curtly onto the sand. You check on the Sith, your predicament now resolved means you adopt a new one. How is he going to get down?

Your question is answered as quickly as it was asked.

The dark red of his sith blade ignites, filling into its form. You watch as he steps off the spire, and sinks his saber into its side. He slides down at a record pace, but he outstretches his hand, combining the efforts of the minimal friction of his weapon with the padding of the force.

Heavy, he dents the ground when he makes contact, and like the lovesick fool you are, you’re entranced the entire time. The spire crumbles behind him, influenced by his opposing force pressure, the dust and debris clouds everywhere but him and where he steps.

You’re not even spared a side glance as he passes you.

“Come.” he recalls. Loyal, like a dog, you do as you’re told.

#indy: drabbles #ch: vader #darth vader drabble #x gn!reader #darth vader fanfiction #darth vader imagine #sw #star wars #darth vader x reader #star wars fanfiction #no smut #slow burn #romance #burnt!vader

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amethysts-tavern · 5 months

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A tender moment between reader and Astarion early in a potential relationship.

Gender neutral, no class or identifying features mentioned. Some backstory for Tav.

Also, I apologize for any bad grammar. COVID booster is kicking my ass today.

————

“Storms never last.”

It had been raining for hours. You had set up camp under the canopy of tall trees. The thought was that the full branches would protect you from some of the storm. And that worked until the lightning started. Electricity crackled through the sky making the hair on your arms stand on end. Loud thunder claps reverberated off the ground and surrounding hills. It was enough to shake your tents.

You had never been fond of storms. When you were little, a bolt of lightning had struck your family’s house, setting the roof on fire. Thankfully everyone inside got out safely; but you had feared storms ever since. The sheer power of the one coursing through the sky now was enough to instill fear in every fiber of your being. You sat alone in your tent, huddled with your arms around your knees, hugging them to your chest and wondering how you were going to get through the night.

After the fire, your mother had taught you to count the seconds between lightning and thunder to assess how far away the brunt of the storm was. You wait for a flash of electricity and begin your count: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5… BOOM! Five miles. The worst of the storm was still five miles away.

Another loud BOOM, this time followed by a CRACK. You cautiously peel away the canvas flap of your tent, to see what caused that cracking sound. A large branch from a nearby tree, leaves wet and swaying with the wind, lay not far from the entrance to your tent. The edge where it was severed from the trunk singed with scorch marks. Lightning strike. Too close for me.

You take a quick look around camp. Most of your companions are all tucked in for the night, their tents dark. Everyone except Astarion - you see that his tent is still illuminated from the inside. At that point, another loud clap of thunder shakes you to your core. You know you aren’t going to sleep at all tonight if you have to weather it alone.

After waiting for the next thunder clap to sound, you dart from your tent over to Astarion’s, rain stinging your face as you run. Without announcing yourself, you pull back the flap of his tent and enter. By the time you step inside, you’re completely soaking wet. Astarion looks up from his book, surprised to see you. “Tav, what the hell? Is this a thing for you? Bursting into other people’s tents unannounced?” Astarion says with annoyance.

“Sorry. Sorry,” you start apologizing, clearly flustered by his response to your presence.

Astarion’s demeanor softens, as he stands up from his bedroll. “Well, come in, then. You’re soaking wet.”

“Yes. It’s raining,” you reply, not sure what else to say.

Astarion looks around his tent and grabs a dry tunic. He hands it over to you. “Here, put this on and stop dripping all over the place.” He turns his back to you so you can change.

“Thank you,” you say meekly, taking the tunic. You strip off your wet clothes and pull his tunic over your head. “I’m sorry to disturb you. I… don’t like storms.” You pause a beat before continuing, “Can I stay here tonight? I always feel safer with you around.”

Astarion turns back around to assess the situation, you standing there in his tunic looking chilled to the bone, not just from being wet, but from being clearly terrified of the storm outside. He sighs and smiles softly, “Of course,” Astarion says, flattered that you picked him to join tonight. He crawls back into his bedroll and motions for you to join him, “Come on, you must be absolutely frozen.”

Suddenly there is a flash of light outside immediately followed by a loud clap of thunder. That’s enough for you - you practically jump into his awaiting arms. You do your best to snuggle in for the night, even though you’re still quaking, still frightened of the storm raging outside.

Astarion feels your fear and pulls you closer to him, stroking your hair, “Hush now, Tav. Storms never last. This will be all over tomorrow,” he offers some quiet, comforting words. Your body relaxes in his embrace and you are finally able to drift off to sleep.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #baldur’s gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion romance

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berensteinsmonster · 11 months

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Thunder and Lightning Aren’t So Frightening? more like uhmmm These Stormy Weathers Celebrate Pride Month Together :) (because they are married and love each other lots)

(reblogs are highly appreciated)

(PROSHIP and TERFS DO NOT FUCKING INTERACT)

#Pajama Sam #Humongous Entertainment #Thunder and Lightning #thunder and lightning aren't so frightening #thunder and lightning arent so frightening #my art #fanart #mspaint #pixel art #lesbians #uhh #pride #lol idk what to tag

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 2 years

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SKZ DRABBLE-OT8

The one where there's a storm. And its name is Han Jisung.

Or the fourth installment of the SKZ!Pack prequel series.

Tags: SKZ, Stray kids, SKZ!pack, SKZ!abo, A/b/o, alpha beta omega, prequel, ot8, skz x you, skz x reader, ot8 x you, ot8 x reader, poly!skz, bang chan, lee minho, seo changbin, han jisung, hwang hyunjin, lee felix, yang jeongin, kim seungmin, y/n

Genre: Fluff

Title: Thunderstorms and Lightning, Very Very Frightening

Jisung is the most genuinely authentic person you’ve ever met.

Your first impression of him was exactly right, because, as you soon find out, he’s never purported to be anything different than who he truly is.

He’s loud and energetic and enthusiastic, and he and Hyunjin fight more often than not-petty little arguments that have you and Changbin rolling your eyes-and he seems to fit right in with the three of you without even having to try.

You still haven’t met the elusive, infamous Lee Minho-Jisung says he’s busy with end of year dance presentations or some other artsy shit-but part of you loathes the idea just a bit, of having to meet Jisung’s official boyfriend, because, then, just maybe, the easy camaraderie you all have formed will disappear in the blink of an eye in the face of Minho’s iciness and their all too real relationship, slipping through your fingers before you even have a chance to decipher what it might mean.

You try not to think too much about that for too long, just like you try not to focus on the pulsing little light beneath your skin that seems to grow the more time you spend in Jisung’s presence, just like you try to ignore the little tingle that spikes across your skin whenever he aggressively holds your hand, claiming determinedly ‘friends hold their friends hands, noona!’

It’s just a crush, right?

It’s not like you’re constantly distracted by Jisung’s bright, heart shaped smile, or the way his scent-clean, fresh laundry-seems to amplify your own. It’s not like you wake up excited to see him in the lab, watching him from the corner of your eye as he and Hyunjin rib over something stupid.

And it’s definitely not like you lie awake at night, alone in your dorm room, in your twin bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about him-

Shit.

Another bright flash of lightning lights up the room, followed by a booming crack of thunder, and you groan, shoving your pillow over your face, fingers digging into the fabric.

Okay, so maybe thoughts of a certain beta aren’t the only thing keeping you awake.

Another crash, and you curl around the pillow, burying your nose in the fabric of Changbin’s hoodie.

It’s not as good as the real thing. The smoky scent has long since faded. You’ll have to remember to ask him tomorrow to get you something new.

The faint, comforting scent of campfire is keeping you from crying though, so you guess the hoodie hasn’t entirely outlived its use just yet.

The wind howls outside as the rain pounds against the thin windowpane, hidden behind your curtains, and another flash of lightning lights up the room momentarily, your own wane, pale face reflected back at you in the dresser mirror, curled up in a ball on the bed like some sort of pathetic, scared child.

You’ve always hated thunderstorms.

When another cacophony of thunder sends you scurrying for the safety of the floor beside the bed, taking the sheets and comforter down with you, tangled up in the protection of Changbin’s overly large hoodie, you decide enough is enough.

You have class tomorrow, and god dammit, you need to get some sleep, one way or another.

Gathering up all the courage you can muster, biting back the whimper that is building in your throat at each crash resounding outside the window, you throw the hood of the hoodie up and brave the trek to the upper floor of the alpha dorm.

You make it to Changbin’s room in record time, not even quite sure how you got there-the details fuzzy-and type in the passcode you now know by heart with trembling fingers.

Letting yourself in, you try to be quiet as you click the door shut once more behind you, but another flash of lightning and thunder that sounds like it’s got a personal grievance with you sends you scurrying unceremoniously down the hallway, tripping over your own feet.

You thank god that Changbin’s a heavy sleeper as you crash through his bedroom door and practically launch yourself into his bed, hiding beneath the covers beside him as another round of lightning and thunder echoes overhead.

“Huh-what?” Changbin mutters as you burrow into his side, still sounding like he’s mostly asleep, voice heavy and scratchy with slumber.

“Storm.” You manage to choke out around the lump in your throat, as if the one word is enough logical explanation for everything.

“Oh.” Changbin answers back, probably still no more awake than before, but managing to nod his head groggily in response.

You bury your nose in his neck and take giant lungfuls of smoke to try and push back the terror that seems to have an iron fist around your heart, and it works, for now, each breath of familiar musk enough to quiet your thoughts slowly but surely.

You’re still not sure if he’s even coherently awake, but Changbin slips an arm beneath you and tugs you flush against his side, burying his nose in your hair, his gentle, steady exhales brushing across your forehead in a rhythmic pattern that has you instantly relaxing, even with the continued storm outside.

You focus on the sound of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, and the lingering scent of smoke that surrounds you, and manage to calm down enough that your eyes begin to feel heavy.

When you jump slightly at a particularly harsh round of thunder, Changbin’s arm tightens instinctively around you, his fingers curling around your hip bone beneath the material of his hoodie, a quiet, reassuring hum falling from his lips in response, and you force yourself to breathe for a few moments, as he settles back into the deeper rhythm of sleep beside you.

Curled against the other alpha like that, surrounded by warmth and the smell of a summer evening bonfire, you finally manage to close your eyes and give in to the elusive calls of sleep, even as the storm rages on beyond the window.

*****

The next morning, you wake up slightly disoriented-tangled in sheets that definitely aren’t yours-to see Changbin propped up on one elbow beside you, staring at you with something akin to smug amusement on his features.

The storm from the night before, and the desperate search for Changbin’s bed, all come crashing-pun intended-down on you in an instant.

“Not a word.” You hiss out between your teeth, moving to ease the kink that has formed in the base of your neck from sleeping in a twin bed with a whole other grown ass human.

Changbin holds up his hands innocently. “I wasn’t going to say a thing.”

Though the smirk that flits across his lips tells an entirely different story.

“This-” You pluck at the fabric of the hoodie that you wear, the logo of the university’s music department splashed loudly across the front. “-didn’t help at all, by the way.”

Changbin stretches leisurely beside you, arms going above his head, and he lets out a contented groan as the notches of his spine all click back into place, before he shoots you a pointed look, motioning to the mess that is his currently open closet.

“I literally own like a billion hoodies. Just pick something else and give that one back, you whiny baby.”

“Hey!” You sit up and fling the pillow at him, the other alpha dodging the clumsy attack easily. “Be nice to me. I had a rough night.” “You?” Changbin scoffs, sitting up and grabbing the pillow from off the floor, and you raise your arms, ready to fend off a counterattack if he lobbs it back at you, but he simply smooths it before placing it back on its respective spot on the bed. “You didn’t have your space invaded last night!”

You stick your tongue out at him, and he readies himself to pounce, like an animal hunting prey, and you shriek wildly, already laughing, as he tackles you playfully to the bed.

Last night sucked. This morning however? Much better.

*****

“Whoa.” Jisung whistles, eyes widening, as you sit down across from him at your customary table in the back of the campus cafe. “I could carry my groceries with the bags under your eyes. Did something happen?”

Deciding to ignore his probably unintentioned insult-he’s still technically asking after your well being after all-you shrug noncommittally and take another large gulp of your coffee like it’s the only thing currently keeping you tied to this plane of existence.

It probably is.

“She doesn’t like thunderstorms.” Changbin supplies casually, as he slides into his own seat beside you, and you see Hyunjin’s eyes flick between the two of you, as if noticing something that he files away to ask about later.

“Oh yeah, I get that.” Jisung nods immediately, and you’re just glad he hasn’t asked to dive deeper into the subject. “Minho-hyung hates thunderstorms too. But like-” He pauses, looking thoughtfully amused now. “-more in a ‘cats hate water and getting wet’ sort of way?”

“Speaking of the ice prince.” Hyunjin elbows the beta, and Jisung puts on a dramatic show of yelping and clutching his side. “When are we going to meet said boyfriend, Jisungie? I’m beginning to think he’s made up.”

“He is not!” Jisung takes instant offense, wide eyes going even wider if possible, lips pulling into a sharp pout. “He’s just really busy with end of semester showcases and shit.”

“Jinnie, stop teasing Jisung.” You berate tiredly, taking another gulp of your coffee, a migraine already starting behind your eyes. “I’m getting a headache.”

“I know just what you need!” Jisung leaps at the chance to direct the attention off of himself and the mysterious Minho, waving wildly at you as he suddenly shoots up in his seat, eyes flashing with excitement. “A good old night to just get drunk, eat pizza, play video games, and do questionable college kid shit. C’mon. I’ll even host!”

You sigh, and Hyunjin grins, slinging his arm around Jisung’s shoulders amicably, as if they weren’t just fighting moments before. “I’ll bring the wine.”

Changbin shrugs beside you. “I can bring the pizza.”

You sigh again, longer this time, and Jisung raises a brow at you expectantly from across the table, waiting.

“I’m not bringing anything. But I’ll come.”

Jisung whoops and pumps his fist from across the table, high fiving Hyunjin, and you almost instantly regret your decision as your migraine increases tenfold.

*******

Okay, so maybe the beta’s suggestion wasn’t such a bad idea.

You’re feeling significantly more relaxed than earlier-and maybe it has to do with the wine glass held in your hand, or the way that Hyunjin is leaning against you, tart lemons washing across with every brush of your nose in his hair-but whatever it is, you’re definitely feeling better than before.

You’re all just buzzed enough to giggle at anything even remotely funny-surrounded in a comfortable, warm glow-open pizza boxes spread across the living room floor, as the vague sounds of the Mario Kart menu play idly in the background, a fitting soundtrack for the light mood.

You’re sitting in a loose, freeform sort of circle, Hyunjin leaning into you, Changbin slouched against the couch on your left, Jisung sprawled directly across from you.

The beta reaches for the empty wine bottle in the middle of your oval and gives it a forceful spin. When it lands on Hyunjin, narrow neck pointed directly at the omega’s thighs, a wicked light comes to life in Jisung’s eyes.

“Jinnie. Truth or dare.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes beside you. “Truth. Obviously.”

“Hm.” Jisung acts like he’s thinking hard, but you know that you’ve all been playing this mishmash sleepover game for long enough now that he’s got to have things already prepared. He flashes a smirk at the waiting omega. “Okay. Who’s better at foreplay, Changbin or (Y/N)?”

Hyunjin snorts, like it’s not even a contest, and you giggle, burying your face in his hair. “(Y/N). Hands down. She gets the importance of it. Binnie’s more of a ‘get right to it’ kinda guy.”

Changbin growls playfully from your opposite side and creeps forward on all fours, as if he’s stalking the omega. “Really? That’s how it is?”

“Which I don’t mind at all!” Hyunjin backpedals quickly, voice raising an octave, screeching as Changbin pounces, crashing into the two of you and sending you into a messy pile of tangled limbs on the floor.

“Sorry, alpha! I’ll be good, I promise!” Hyunjin wails teasingly, as Changbin presses kisses all over your faces in quick, sloppy succession.

You’re all laughing so hard you can’t breathe when you finally get yourselves righted again, and Jisung is watching you wistfully from across the room.

“God, you guys are weird.”

Changbin huffs and straightens his shirt, slumping back into place against the couch, reaching out to kick Jisung’s knee with a socked foot.

“We can leave.”

“I meant it in a nice way okay!” Jisung instantly protests, cheeks flaming a bit now, whether due to the wine or embarrassment, you’re suddenly not sure. “I’ve just never seen a relationship like yours, but it works? And it’s-foreign to me, I guess.”

“What, like polyamory?” Hyunjin guesses, and Jisung nods.

“Yeah, but also like-” He thinks for a second, looking suddenly serious. “Two alphas and an omega? That’s not super common. But you guys seem to make it work and even look-” He bites his bottom lip between his teeth now, seeming unsure. “-happy?”

“We are happy.” You shrug, leaning your cheek against the top of Hyunjin’s head.

“Yeah.” Changbin shrugs as well, looking slightly uncomfortable to be having such a serious conversation in the midst of a drunken truth or dare game. “Wolves crave packs. That’s just how it is.”

“God.” Jisung flops back onto the carpet, splayed wide like a starfish, looking completely dejected, gaze on the ceiling. “I want that. So bad. But Minho-hyung is like-weirdly resistant to letting new people into our relationship?” Jisung rolls onto his side and splays his hands wide, eyes dark and desperate. “But I’m freaking lonely. I know he’s busy, and I get it, but he never seems to have time for me and I just-” Jisung sighs heavily and repeats hopelessly, “-I’m so lonely.”

There is silence for a moment after the beta’s serious declaration, no one particularly knowing what to say, and then Changbin clears his throat awkwardly, leaning forward to spin the bottle.

It lands on Hyunjin once more.

“Jinnie. Pick anyone you want for truth or dare. You just went.”

Hyunjin nods, leaning up off your shoulder, and you can feel him trying not to stare too long at Jisung, flicking his gaze over and back, before he turns to you with something akin to determination on his features.

“Noona. Truth or dare.”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss Jisung.”

The room goes deathly silent once more, and your brain shorts out for a few seconds, staring at the determined omega before you, and you’re not sure whether it’s the wine, or something else, but your tongue feels thick and heavy, and your thoughts are suddenly muddled.

“Okay.”

You’re agreeing before you know what you’re doing, and Jisung is startling up on the other side of the circle, eyes wide, like a surprised deer’s.

The air is suddenly stark with the smell of detergent.

“Wait-really?”

You shrug. “If you want.”

Jisung seems to consider for the briefest of moments, and then he nods, something resolute coming into his gaze. “Yeah.”

You scoot across the floor to close the distance between the two of you, until your knees are knocking into one another, and swallowing, you reach up to place a gentle hand on Jisung’s jaw.

Your eyes meet, and suddenly, despite the slight buzz of the wine, your thoughts are crystal clear.

“Ready?”

Jisung nods.

You lean into him, slowly enough that he can pull away if he still wants to, but he doesn’t move, and before you know it, your lips meet his.

You start slow, letting him lead, the plush feel of his full bottom lip pillowed between your own, your nose filled with the smell of freshly washed laundry, because you get the feeling that the beta hasn’t kissed anyone except Minho in a long time.

So it catches you off guard when in a bold move, Jisung slips his tongue in between your lips and grazes your bottom teeth.

You giggle, the kiss getting sloppier by the second, and he sighs into your mouth.

“You taste like cheap wine.”

“Really?” You pull back, just enough to glance at him, gaze dropping to admire the way his lips are slick with spit.

“Mhm.” Jisung nods, and leans back in for another kiss, teeth grazing your bottom lip experimentally, and when your breath hitches slightly at the sensation, it must be the reaction he’s looking for, because he pulls back again, looking slightly smug as he studies you. “You’re pretty.”

You giggle again, feeling dizzy now, and not from the cheap wine.

“You know who else is pretty?”

Jisung instantly nods. “Hyunjin.”

You nod in agreement. “Hyunjin.”

“Okay, so that means it’s my turn.” Hyunjin speaks up from behind the two of you, and you glance over your shoulder at him, a smirk gracing the omega’s full lips.

You scoot out of the way, leaning back against Changbin now, who loops his arms loosely around your waist.

“Go ahead.” You grin as Hyunjin crawls toward Jisung. “We’ll watch.”

“I bet you will.” Hyunjin quips back teasingly, shooting you and the other alpha an affectionate look, before he leans into Jisung’s space.

Their lips have just met-Hyunjin is queen of foreplay and taking his time-when there’s a loud knock at the beta’s front door.

Everyone instantly freezes, four sets of wide, alarmed eyes silently staring.

There is another knock, this one more insistent than the first, and then a muted thump, as if someone has slumped their body against the door while waiting.

Then, a voice, and the overwhelming scent of amber-of alpha.

“Jisungie, c’mon. I’m sorry it’s so late, but I brought cheesecake, and it’ll make me really sad if you don’t eat it, because it was a bitch to find.”

Jisung looks a little green.

“I know you’re mad I’ve been spending so much time on my showcases lately, and I wanna make it up to you. Please?”

Jisung glances between the three of you, Hyunjin practically in his lap, and hisses the only thing that comes to mind, instantly echoed in a frantic whisper by all of you.

“Shit.”

***********

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spookyspaghettisundae · 3 months

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What He Signed Up For

The EMD’s battery whined. Green, yellow, and red bars glowed on the side of the futuristic weapon, set for maximum power output.

A measured response to a Tyrannosaurus Rex. A mighty dinosaur in the flesh. Its deafening roar curdled Chloe Grant’s blood and shook her to the core. Their previous encounter with a Purrusaurus had haunted her nightmares with memories of the giant crocodile, but it paled in comparison to this tyrant lizard and its towering appearance.

The earth quaked with every step the beast took. Despite its frightening mass, it displayed an even more terrifying agility. The T-Rex ducked underneath metal girders connecting different parts of the oil rig. Gigantic claws crashed down and kicked up clouds of dust, suffocating the crystal blue sky behind it.

Mischchenko shot first. Electric blasts discharged into balls of lightning where they struck the giant lizard. It roared in pain. Its roar petered out into an angry growl—a single shot from the EMD, even at full capacity, was not enough to knock the dino out.

Grant flipped her internal safety switch. Stopped thinking. Acted on that dread that had been paralyzing her at the sight of the T-Rex, and now acted like she used to in the field, as a soldier. How different could it be from shooting at a tank?

Two blasts from her EMD hit the T-Rex in its snout, dead center. It roared again, reared back, and metal squealed where the lizard’s body smashed through the oil rig’s girders.

From the flanks, more EMD shots sliced through the air, three in number. Ruiz, crouched upon an old blue container shell, sniped at the T-Rex from his elevated position. His first shot sent the beast reeling, stumbling back another few thundering steps. Static crackled around the scaly beast’s body. It shuddered, barely staying standing. Before it could recover, a second and third shot elicited a strange mewling sound from the T-Rex’s maw.

Mischchenko ducked. In doing so, she covered the dirt-caked boy in the blue container behind them. The boy shivered behind her, whimpering, cowering at the sight of the T-Rex. Small hands covered eyes, screwed shut in terror.

Grant stepped farther out from the container, aiming down her EMD’s scope at the beast. It stumbled back another step.

Ruiz’s voice on intercom crackled, tinny, commenting with coldness.

“Careful now. I ain’t carrying that big-ass lizard back to any Anomaly.”

The T-Rex looked disoriented. Its toothy maw opened and clamped shut, and its massive claws kicked up more dust, tearing up ground around the abandoned Midland oil rig.

Grant muttered into the intercom, “How the hell did nobody spot this thing on satellite image? Yo!”

Mischchenko skipped the answer to her question. She barked, “We need a location on the Anomaly! Yesterday!”

The T-Rex lurched forward and the ground shook again.

Murder flashed in reptilian eyes.

“We aren’t getting anything here!” Singh whined across the airwaves. “Not even a visual! Where are you?”

Grant kept her gun’s muzzle trained at the dinosaur’s head. She clicked her tongue.

The T-Rex reared back another thundering step. Its tail whipped around and tore a chunk of metal out of the old rig’s body. Metal bars bent and groaned and screeched where unstoppable saurian force tore them apart.

Huge legs buckled. The EMD shots always hurt.

“It’s going to run,” Burch said over the radio. It dawned on Grant that Burch could see everything they were seeing at the oil rig, as their helmets were continuously transmitting visual feeds. Burch repeated, with more urgency, “It’s going to run!”

Mischchenko took a step forward, Ruiz stayed as still as a statue, and Grant’s finger curled around the trigger.

Time slowed to a crawl. A single second turned into an eternity.

No thoughts. Only action.

Grant shot first, then Ruiz, then Mischchenko. Five more EMD discharges total, and the T-Rex emitted another mewling groan. It stumbled again. It crashed. A living earthquake, shaking their world. Flakes of rust snowed down from every metal girder, and the blue containers rocked. All metal groaned.

The three field operatives breathed steadily, keeping their weapons lined up for more shots.

The T-Rex’s tail slapped the ground, whipping up another violent cloud of dust.

There was almost a tragic beauty in how the dust broke the rays of broad daylight in this Texan desert.

Nobody else on the team commented. Stunned, they watched what the helmet feeds transmitted.

The T-Rex no longer budged. Its maw closed with slowness. Eyelids fell shut.

The dinosaur slept off its stupor. The EMDs had taken it down. For now.

“Specimen incapacitated,” Mischchenko confirmed. “We need eyes on the Anomaly, damnit!”

Nothing. The huge cloud of dust surrounding the T-Rex still settled, slowly. Ever so slowly.

Doctor Solomon broke the silence. “Working on it. I think something’s interfering with our detectors. And something else is affecting the satellite images. Standby, please.”

Ruiz sighed. “We ain’t got all day, and we’re gettin’ spread thin. Wasn’t there another dino out here we need to worry about? And the federales team?”

Stantz replied via radio. “Me, I’m on the military, don’t worry about it. We need to find out if there’s more damage I need to control. Carter—you should regroup with the rest of field ops. Two o’ ya keep your eyes on the T-Rex, two start sweeping the area. How hard can it be to find another big lizard and a big glowing orb of energy?”

“Doctor Trémaux would beg to differ.” Doctor Solomon interjected. “It’s not simply energy, it’s—”

“I don’t care, man,” Stantz cut in. “You eggheads worry about quantum physics or whatever it is you do, I worry about keeping the lid on things.”

“No objections from me,” Carter growled. “Except the part where you’re the media guy, and not our C.O., Stantz. That being said, I got no arguments about our next steps. On my way to rendezvous with y’all, Mischchenko. Sit tight.”

Ruiz hopped down from the blue container. He lifted his helmet’s visor to reveal symmetrical features and a three o’clock shadow on his face. Brown eyes sparkled as he stared daggers at the downed T-Rex.

In a fluid motion, he produced a crumpled pack of cigarettes from a pocket, then brought one of those cigarettes to the corner of his lips.

Mischchenko cleared her throat. She emerged from the blue container with the small boy, helping the child to climb out.

“Not concerned about setting a bad example?” she asked Ruiz.

He shrugged and lit up his cigarette with a blade-like flame from a storm lighter.

Mischchenko sighed. She lifted her visor and hunkered down next to the boy, meeting the child at eye level, and resting a gloved hand on his shoulder. In hushed tones and a soothing voice, she spoke to the kid, soon learning his name was Aiden, and telling him that he didn’t need to be afraid of any dinosaurs as long as they were around.

Figuring Mischchenko had that situation handled, Grant shouldered her EMD rifle and sauntered up to Ruiz.

While he smoked, they kept watch on the unconscious T-Rex.

The dinosaur’s sides heaved with an almost peaceful tranquil. Breathing steadily.

Part of her wanted to approach it. Part of her imagined removing a glove, running her fingers over those scales, to learn what it felt like.

The rest of her body and instincts screamed at her. She was as close as she needed to be, and didn’t even want to imagine what would happen if that beast bit anybody.

Instead of approaching it and sating that lethal curiosity, Grant stood still as a statue, a sentry.

Ruiz scratched his chin and smoked, eventually peeling his attention off the T-Rex, and meeting Grant’s gaze.

Smoke billowed from his nostrils and he chortled. “Well, would you look at that. Feels like yesterday when Carter was complaining about walkin’ into a T-Rex on a mission, huh?”

Grant forced herself not to study his handsome face. He looked like an artist had chiseled a perfect likeness of a man into the shadow of his helmet.

Ruiz must have picked up on it. A smirk played around the corners of his lips, framed by a subtle twitch that he wrestled back into a stoic expression.

Grant had no idea what Ruiz knew. He knew why Future Proof’s team had missed the Anomaly, and still had no visual on the T-Rex. Or them, for that matter.

Just that morning, the mystery woman with the red hair had briefed him on it. Briefed him on it all.

* * *

“We’re about to leak this intel to Future Proof,” said the mystery woman. Loretta Corsino.

If Ruiz’s smirk bore self-confidence, then Corsino’s smirk was smug.

This morning, however, long before Future Proof’s team arrived in Midland, Ruiz wasn’t smirking at all.

He was frowning.

Flipping up and down the brief on the tablet’s screen, its contents were painting the frown on his face.

Corsino’s group, the nebulous company who was wiring obscene amounts of money to Ruiz for his espionage work at Future Proof, had finally gotten a leg up on them.

The screen displayed grainy satellite images of dinosaurs on the loose in the dusty outskirts of Midland. And satellite images of an Anomaly, a glittering, glowing orb in a wasteland.

Ruiz scrolled past a picture of Captain Dariel Rose—bearded, dark, carved with wrinkles from black ops abroad, staring into the camera with a grim expression—acting head of the military operations team en route to secure the specimens.

He scrolled past number crunching, cold mathematics. Corporate language, callous in its specificity, with all the fluff cut out for clarity. Ruiz scrolled past it all. He wasn’t interested in the details. The specifics made his stomach churn and knot.

The stats summed up a preliminary death toll, measured in civilians. They weren’t doing a damned thing.

Ruiz wasn’t liking any of this. It wasn’t what he had signed up for.

The tablet, dropped from his hand in frustration, clattered on the café’s table between them.

Loretta Corsino still smirked at him. Maybe she was just sadistic enough that his reaction amused her. Impossible for him to read. Hers was a beauty to rival his own, and her role in all of this… it frightened him.

Valentìn Ruiz thumbed his upper lip and stifled a sigh.

“What am I supposed to do with this, now?” he asked, throwing up his hand in frustration.

Corsino’s eyes sparkled in the morning sun. She took a timid sip from her cup of coffee, and the smirk never faded from her lips.

“You do your job, Mister Magician. Show up to work, play dumb, and be our eyes and ears at Future Proof. We want to see if Doctor Solomon can beat our new toy before we pull the plug. If this works out right, we’ll always be a step ahead of Future Proof from here on out, and you can expect another big, fat paycheck for your good work.”

Ruiz almost muttered “fuck me” with another sigh. Almost.

Instead, he took a deep breath and sipped his coffee. Suppressed the shake in his hand.

Almost like the shakes he used to have, back in the day of work as a sharpshooter. First Recon. The shakes had gone away after he left the service, went private. Didn’t even need booze or drugs to take off the edge.

And here it was again, the shakes, threatening to return.

What had it all even meant?

The coffee cup almost rattled against the saucer when he put it back down.

Corsino still smirked at him.

He needed to play it cool, always. But the shakes were coming back.

* * *

His hand shook as he smoked while standing next to Grant outside the abandoned oil rig. Ruiz suppressed it again, taking a long, deep drag from his slim cancer stick.

Grant shook her head, staring at the downed T-Rex.

“Seriously, though,” she said. “How does a bunch o’ trained pros miss a damn T-Rex on live sat imaging?”

Ruiz shrugged again. Blew out smoke.

“Who knows,” he growled. “That lizard snuck up on us, too. Maybe something about the oil fields, tech that’s interfering?”

“Unlikely,” responded a voice on their intercom. Doctor Solomon. His voice crackled with static. He added, “Unlikely the energy companies out here had tech like that in place, let alone leaving anything like that behind when they shuttered operations out here. But—not impossible.”

Carter also growled on the radio. “Speakin’ o’ which. Should we be worried about EMDs settin’ off fires, with the oil around here, and stuff? Seen some—”

“Yes,” replied Doctor Solomon. “Yes, Mister Carter, you should be worried about that. I advise caution whenever wielding your EMDs. I saw several puddles of leakage on the airlift. And given how dry the flora out here is this time of year, one misplaced shot could be a recipe for disaster.”

Carter groaned.

Grant and Ruiz both stared at the cigarette cinched between Ruiz’ black-gloved fingers.

He shook his head, dropped the cigarette, and stamped it out, grinding it under his heel into the dust.

Mischchenko joined them. Her EMD rifle hung from her shoulder by the sling. With her free arm, she held hands with the boy.

“This is Aiden,” she introduced them to the kid.

Aiden only shot them furtive glances. His stares lingered on the futuristic rifles they bore, and he stole glimpses of their fearsome black armored jumpsuits, and the name tags emblazoned on their chests.

“Hey, Aiden,” Grant said. Her voice cracked.

She had a problem with dogs, but not with kids. Immediately felt sorry for this boy, and that sentiment only deepened by the minute.

His was a thousand-mile stare. Blank, hollow, piercing outward from a face caked in dirt and dried blood spatters. Grant had only overheard fragments of Mischchenko’s conversation with the boy.

His family was probably dead. Probably definitely dead. Killed by stampeding dinosaurs. Eaten alive. Traumatic shreds of descriptions had bled through his stammering earlier. Grant hadn’t listened to all of it, and didn’t particularly care for the details. She shuddered at the thought of growing up like Aiden would have to grow up now.

She couldn’t even begin to fathom what kind of therapy he would need. She only found solace in the thought that her work here at Future Proof might ensure her own family never met such a fate.

“There we go,” Doctor Solomon said on the radio, every syllable vibrating with confidence. “The figurative fog has lifted, and we can start reconstructing tracks on satellite visuals. Burch? Burch, come, look at this.”

“Once Max gets here,” Mischchenko told Aiden, “We’ll escort you back to camp. You’re safe now.”

Someone grumbled on the radio. Likely Max Carter. Grant gathered he didn’t care for kids.

Aiden stared blankly up at Mischchenko. His tiny hand in her gloved palm looked feeble. Lifeless. She squeezed, to punctuate her words with earnestness.

Ruiz cleared his throat, and nodded.

“Just listen to whatever Missus Mischchenko here has to say, okay? We’ll take care of the rest.”

He took a knee and rested his Type-3 EMD rifle on his palms in front of the kid, like a knight, presenting his sword to a small king. Ruiz spoke with a surprising calm. Also made Grant wonder if Ruiz had experience with kids, or just younger siblings.

Ruiz said, “It’s lighter than it looks. Go ahead, won’t break easily. Maybe you’re gonna do this kinda work one day, too.”

Aiden hesitated. His eyes flashed. The thousand-mile stare focused on the silvery rifle in Ruiz’s hands.

Slipping out of Mischchenko’s grasp, two small hands shakily grabbed the EMD rifle.

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 2 years

Text

Stormy Nights and Sweet Mornings

Prompts: Hello hello 👉🏽👈🏽 this is my first time so I'm a bit nervous, but I was wondering if I could request some lovely (not necessarily /whumpy/ if that's not your jam) heavy hurt/ comfort + Virgil centric? If that's okay?? Shsksjs thanks in advance - anon

hey! could you write a hurt/comfort fic about virge having a panic attack and someone comforting him? i eat that shit up - anon

*bangs pots and pans together* IT IS PLOTLESS FLUFF TIME

Read on Ao3

Warnings: thunderstorms, anxiety attacks, panic attacks

Pairings: analogical, platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 1918

The good brainstorms are fun. Those are the ones where Roman and Remus are throwing shit at a wall to see what sticks and Logan is scribbling furiously in a notebook to try and keep up. Or Remus is running around the room like a demented hamster in a freaky hamster ball and Logan is sitting in the center watching him. Or Roman and Logan are sitting in the massive Beauty-and-the-Beast-style library and just talking over each other. Literally any of those are fine. Those are the good ones.

This is one of the bad ones.

The bad brainstorms aren’t actually brainstorms. Or—rather, they are, but it’s not what you’d think of as a brainstorm. Well, it is, but—oh, for fuck’s sake.

A bad brainstorm is literally a storm that happens in the Mindscape or the Imagination. Roman and Remus don’t control it, it just fucking happens. Something about the Imagination needing to…reset? Have a tantrum? Something something, health of the creative drive, something something. Logan probably has an explanation and Roman or Remus could probably say how it feels for them but they’re bad.

The Mindscape fucking freaks out. The whole place starts shaking and it’s fucking awful. They all have a hard time getting to sleep—well, except Remus, who seems to sleep like a fucking baby—and the next day is slow and sleepy and lazing around in the sunlight like big flappy cats.

That’s gonna be really nice…just lying there in the sun. Nothing to worry about, nothing to do…just there.

But not right now. Right now’s gonna fucking suck.

Virgil screws his eyes shut tighter as another boom shakes the walls of his room. He curls up tighter in the bed, trying not to wince at the pull of the sweaty sheets. Exhaustion tugs at him and he wants to follow it, he wants to rest, he wants to sleep—

Another flash of lightning jolts him back to wakefulness. He lets out a groan, already bracing for what comes next.

When the thunder cracks again, his hands fly up and jam over his ears. Why do they have to be so loud? It sounds like fireworks, it sounds like gunshots, it sounds like bad things are happening and I don’t like it, I don’t want it, I want it to stop, make it stop, make it stop—

It’s been like this for hours. He woke up at some point after what felt like no time asleep and he’s been lying here since. The sheet sticks to him as he tries to roll around. He needs to stay under the covers but he’s fucking roasting under here, but if he tries to flip the sheets back the lightning flashes again and he’s huddling under the covers like some frightened kid. His skin is starting to itch and his head is pounding and he just wants to go to sleep—

Another flash. His next inhale is a whine and it doesn’t stop when the thunder cracks against his ears.

It can’t last forever. Brainstorms can’t last forever. They never have, they never will. This will be over. It will be over and he’ll be fine and tomorrow he can—he can—

But what if this one doesn’t end? What if he’s trapped here, forever, with the lightning and the thunder and—and—

It takes him a second to realize that’s not the thunder, it’s someone knocking on his door.

“Virgil?”

Virgil slowly pokes his head out from under the covers. “L-Logan?”

“Yes, Virgil, it’s me, may I come in?”

Virgil clutches the covers under his chin and flinches at another roll of thunder. “Mhm.”

The door opens slowly, revealing Logan as he looks around. When his gaze lands on Virgil in the bed, his expression softens and he comes over.

“Hello, little one,” he murmurs, leaning down and resting his hand next to Virgil’s head, “are you having trouble sleeping?”

Virgil nods mutely.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Logan lifts his free hand. “Can I touch you?”

He nods and Logan’s hand cards through his hair. He winces at the tacky pull of sweat.

“Is it the storm?”

“…mhm.”

“Okay. Would you like some help?”

“Mhm.”

Logan smiles softly. “Alright. I’ll help you. Can you give me your arms, please?”

Virgil timidly offers his hands, fingers just visible under all the blankets. Logan takes them and gently begins to pull the rest of Virgil’s arms out from under the covers. He moves slowly and surely, nothing unpredictable that will startle him.

“You’re doing great,” Logan murmurs, carefully looping Virgil’s arms around his neck, “can you hold onto me there?”

Virgil clumsily tangles his fingers together.

“Very good.” A different kind of shudder runs through him and Logan notices, smiling slightly. “Do you like being told you’ve done well?”

“…maybe.”

The smile widens as Logan gently brushes Virgil’s flushed cheek, but he doesn’t say anything. “Come here, little one.”

Virgil lets out a noise of surprise when Logan leans down further to slide his arms around him. Logan is warm—really warm—and he still smells like coffee. Virgil rests his head on his shoulder, breathing in something that isn’t sweaty and scared and—wait, what’s happening—

“Shh, little one,” Logan soothes as Virgil lets out a squeak of fear, “I won’t hurt you. I think a shower would feel nice, don’t you?”

But shower means moving and moving means he won’t be under the covers and if he isn’t under the covers when—

Thunder cracks against the room and he cowers in Logan’s arms.

“I’m right here,” Logan’s low voice reminds, arms tightly around him, “I won’t let anything hurt you. Trust me, little one, I’ll keep you safe.”

Virgil closes his eyes and grits his teeth and trusts him, letting Logan coax him from under the sweat-soaked covers and into his arms properly. When they’re standing next to the bed, Logan guides him forward until they pass to tiled floors and a door shuts behind them.

“There,” Logan says, flicking on a soft nightlight, “that’s better, hmm?”

Virgil cracks an eye open. He can’t see the lightning flashes anymore and even the thunder is muffled.

“Can I just sleep in here?”

“I doubt we could get enough blankets and pillows to make it comfortable,” Logan says wryly, “nor do I think you should take Remus’s recommendation of using the toilet as a pillow.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

Logan chuckles, pushing him gently toward the shower. “I’ll fetch you new pajamas. I’ll turn the fan on when I leave too, that and the noise of the water should help drown out anything else.”

Virgil clutches his sleeve as Logan turns to go.

“I’ll be right outside,” he says, gently taking Virgil’s hand and squeezing it, “if you need me, call for me.”

“You swear?”

“I swear.”

Virgil swallows as Logan flips on the fan, the door shutting behind him. He strips off the gross pajamas and draws the curtain, turning on the water and waiting until it’s warm to get in.

The water pounds over his neck and shoulders, helping to ease some of the knots from tossing and turning. He stands like that for a few minutes, his eyes closed, just breathing in the warm steam. He halfheartedly washes the sweat off.

The worst of the panic begins to leave as the water pours, leaving him not exhausted but pleasantly sleepy. He fumbles to shut the water off, blinking in the haze of warm light. He steps out, shaking out his hair and scrubbing it with a towel. Logan must’ve come in without him noticing because there are new pajamas there.

Another knock as he’s pulling the shirt on.

“Yeah?”

Logan comes in, blinking as his glasses immediately begin to fog up. Virgil stifles a laugh as he takes them off and folds them into a pocket. Logan looks at him and something fond touches his smile.

“Come here,” he bids gently, taking the towel from Virgil. “Good. Let me dry your hair.”

Virgil closes his eyes as Logan runs the towel over his head, careful not to pull his hair as he dries him off.

“There,” he says, “all better.”

He holds out his hands.

“Do you think you might be ready to try and sleep?”

Virgil glances at the door. The lightning and thunder are just on the other side.

“It’s alright,” Logan reminds, “I’m right here. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

“…okay.”

“Good.”

Virgil blinks in surprise as Logan leads him back into his room. “Did you…change my bed?”

“There was no point in having you shower if you were just going to lie back down in sweaty sheets.”

“But—“

Lightning flashes and his head jerks toward the window.

“Easy,” Logan hushes, guiding him back to the freshly-made bed, “under the covers, now.”

He lets Logan tuck him in, still cowering a bit in the lea of him as he leans over to straighten out the other side.

“I thought the space set would be pertinent,” Logan murmurs, his voice low and close to his ear to drown out the thunder, “since you’ve been watching Star Trek again recently.”

“…you’d like it,” he mumbles as Logan comes back to look at him, “they…did this real cool thing with…logjams.”

“‘Logjams?’” Logan raises an eyebrow. “Did you mean holograms?”

“’S what I said.”

Logan chuckles, ruffling his damp hair. “No, little one, it wasn’t.”

Virgil blinks up at him. “Are you gonna…go now?”

“Do you want me to?”

As if on cue, the thunder rumbles again. Virgil flinches slightly, looking up pleadingly.

“Alright, little one, I’ll stay.”

But then Logan starts to stand up—

“I’m going to get in the other side of the bed,” comes the vaguely amused reassurance, “unless you think I can somehow fit in the two inches you’ve left on this one.”

“No,” he mutters as he scrunches under the covers.

Now that he’s not sweaty anymore and he’s still warm from the shower, the cool air makes him shudder as Logan lifts up the covers.

“Come here,” says the voice behind him as arms slide around his waist, a mouth next to his ear, “there. Is this alright?”

“Mhm.”

“Good,” Logan whispers and he shudders, “shh-shh-shh, try and rest, now. I’m right here. Nothing can hurt you while I’m here.”

Virgil closes his eyes and lets him tuck the covers around them both. The storm seems more muffled now as Logan keeps murmuring in his ear.

“Close your eyes, yes, that’s right. Listen to me, listen to my breathing. I have you, I won’t go anywhere. Just let me look after you.”

“L-Logan?”

“Yes, little one?”

“When we, um, tomorrow, when we…when we…”

“Take the day off?”

Virgil nods. “Can we…do this too?”

He feels Logan smile. “Yes, little one, I’d be happy to cuddle you tomorrow.”

“Thanks.”

“Mm. Now sleep, little one, so we can get there.”

The thunder rolls angrily around and around the Mindscape, unable to reach Virgil as Logan holds him close, safe and sound.

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ladylilithprime · 1 year

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Fluff Is My Jamstiel - Masterlist

Series: Fluff Is My Jamstiel

Fandom: Supernatural:

Pairing: Sastimmy/Jamstiel (Jimmy Novak/Sam Winchester/Castiel)

Rating: General to Teen and Up

Tags/Warnings: Witch Sam Winchester, Hunter Novak Brothers, Jimmy and Castiel Are Twins, Brief Allusions to Canon-Typical Violence

Summary: When a young man dies and the grieving family loudly proclaim that their child was killed by a witch, hunters John Castiel and James Constantine Novak are on the case. What they find isn't nearly so simple as a demon-dealing witch killing for power they can gank and be done with it, nor does it make it any easier for the brothers to just move on to the next case. This is the story of how natural witch and herbalist Sam Winchester met the infamous Novak brothers and gave two weary hunters a place to finally call home... but just the fluffy parts.

For: @fluffyfebruary challenge!

Status: Complete

Read Chronologically on AO3

Day One - Hello (Twirl Around And Take A Chance)

When a young man dies and the grieving family loudly proclaim that their child was killed by a witch, hunters John Castiel and James Constantine Novak are on the case. What they find isn't nearly so simple as a demon-dealing witch killing for power they can gank and be done with it, nor does it make it any easier for the brothers to just move on to the next case. This is the story of how natural witch and herbalist Sam Winchester met the infamous Novak brothers.

Day Two - Soft (Too Magical To Touch)

Gathering a pair of waterlogged hunters in from the rain and putting them in some of his own old clothes ends up putting some thoughts into Sam Winchester’s mind. Thoughts he probably should have been expecting.

Day Three - Anniversary (Gonna Make This Place Your Home)

There aren’t very many wholly positive types of annual events and remembrances in the life of a hunter, even a former hunter turned witch. Even some of the happiest moments in Sam Winchester’s life have shadows of pain and fear attached to them. His lovers remind him that he has at least one more he can count to celebrate.

Day Four - Starlight (A Sky Full Of Stars)

Seasons change, but the way you experience them changing can change as well. Cas reflects on the different perspectives he has had over the course of his life and how glad he is for the one he has now.

Day Five - Amber (For Dear Honor's Sake)

While Sam, Jimmy, and Cas have an amorous night in, Dean and Bones share a more introspective night of drink and companionship.

Day Six - Stretch (Reach And Flexibility)

The hunt wrapped up faster than expected, meaning John Castiel and James Constantine Novak can make a detour back to Palo Alto, California, that much sooner. When they actually use the spare key that Sam Wesson gave them, however, they discover that their witch friend is a bit more bendy than either of them realized.

Day Seven - Cloak (Keep My Love Warm)

There were benefits to being openly known as a witch in northern California. Occasional drawbacks, but the benefits mostly outweighed them.

Day Eight - Callous (All Is Fair In Love And Paintball)

Contrary to Sam’s assumption that he wouldn’t be seeing the Novak brothers at all often, if he even saw them again at all, Palo Alto has seen a surprising uptick in visits from the hunter twins. Dean is suspicious, and determined to conduct his own testing of their mettle if they think they can just come courting his baby brother.

Day Nine - Breezy (Through The Wind And The Chill)

The Novak brothers heard quite a bit about Sam’s impressive handmade cloak long before they had the opportunity to see it in use. Cas regrets that he wasn’t in shape to properly appreciate it at the time.

Day Ten - Thunder (I Was Lightning Before)

Sleeping through a thunderstorm isn’t the easiest thing to do, but for John Castiel Novak the experience ends up a bit more fraught than even a frightened familiar could make it.

Day Eleven - Immaculate (From This Moment On)

Sam Winchester finds himself reflecting on the passage of time and the twists that life can throw at your plans as he stands with his old friends to be named godfather to their second child. His new friends help, in their own way.

Day Twelve - Shell (A Fence Ain't A Comfortable Seat) (Chapter Two)

When Bobby Singer got the call that one of his adopted sons had been shot, he couldn’t have guessed that flying out to Palo Alto, California, would also put him back in contact with another pair of brothers he wished he could have adopted before their father got them killed.

Day Thirteen - Pride (Carry Over, Knit Three Together)

Sam Winchester first learned to knit from a demon, not that he knew that at the time. Over the years, knitting played an important role in Sam’s life and the lives of his loved ones, some in unexpected ways, but mostly just as signs of his care for them and them for him.

Day Fourteen - Free Space/Soulmates (The Space Where You Reside In Me)

John Castiel and James Constantine Novak don’t just share a soul bond like most twins and close siblings do, they share a soul, and for them it’s a little more literal - and dangerous - than for most siblings. Sam understands, and is there to support them, holding Cas together while a sedated Jimmy fights for survival on the operating table.

Day Fifteen - Reward (We're Rising, We're Soaring)

Samantha Maxine Moore has been looking forward to this ever since she got her perfect report card. Sam Winchester-Novak doesn’t mind indulging his goddaughter in her somewhat literal flights of fancy.

Day Sixteen - Glow (Shine On, Harvest Moon)

Sam Winchester was tentatively willing to take his hunter friends John Castiel and James Constantine Novak at their word that they not only wouldn’t mind seeing him performing his usual sabbat rituals but would actually be honored to participate with him, but he still figured it would be best to start off with a relatively light ritual. It goes much better than he could have imagined..

Day Seventeen - Blessed (Do You Believe In Miracles)

James Constantine Novak is very tired of being stuck in the hospital with healing chest wounds. Still, it beats being dead, and there are certain people who make his situation a little more bearable.

Day Eighteen - Glide (Hydrotherapy)

Of all the places a pair of migrant hunters could get stuck while one of them heals from taking a shotgun blast to the chest, it’s a good thing the Novak twins were stuck somewhere close to their favorite witch.

Day Nineteen - Loop (The Future's So Bright)

When the emergency phone in the kitchen drawer started ringing, more than one person would end up thrown for a loop by who was on the other end and what was to unfold.

Day Twenty - Sink (Solace Written On The Wind)

A moment of quiet and peace amidst the saucers and soap suds and a sunny summer afternoon.

Day Twenty-One - Tender (Welcomed Back By The Lights)

Sam Winchester-Novak will not start worrying about his husbands being late returning from a hunt until they’re actually late. His goddaughters are very helpful at distracting him from worrying anyway.

Day Twenty-Two - Remember (Heart Thrown Wide Open)

The day of the funeral for Tyson Brady dawned clear, but as friends and family spoke and memories were shared the rains still came. That was okay. Rain just helps the garden grow stronger.

Day Twenty-Three - Crave (Wipe The Sleep Right From My Eyes)

Sam woke up with a craving. Fortunately, it was one he could do something about.

Day Twenty-Four - Bubbly (A Different Sort Of Date Night)

Sam was no stranger to babysitting after over four years of being Samantha Maxine Moore’s godfather. That wasn’t going to change now that he had two charges instead of just one, but he was still very glad to have Bones around as back-up.

Day Twenty-Five - Murmur (Say A Little Prayer)

A lazy Thursday afternoon in the tea shop rolls around to a theological discussion that takes a sudden turn for unexpected but arguably better.

Day Twenty-Six - Joy (Count On Me Like One, two, Three)

Step one was the paperwork. Step two was the private little ritual in the garden, just the three of them. Step three is the reception… with a few more people attending than they expected.

Day Twenty-Seven - Blaze (Gotta Wear Shades)

One could perhaps be forgiven for thinking one has the advantage when one is a Knight of Hell, used to moving freely without true challenge among mortals and who had already slaughtered the American branch of the most premiere secret society of supernatural researchers on the planet and gone through time to make sure the job got finished right. It wouldn’t stop one from being wrong, but that was another matter entirely.

Day Twenty-Eight - Goodbye (Heaven Ain't Close)

Creation didn’t begin in a garden, but some people liked to claim it did. John Castiel’s Novak’s world wouldn’t end in a garden, either, but he still had to face down the Archangel who used to be his brother and say so.

Thanks for reading!

#supernatural fic #fluffyfebruary2023 #jamstiel'verse masterlist #sastimmy

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imaginedreamwrite · 2 years

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I’ve had an idea for a thunderstorm and think you’d write it better than me! So reader hates storms, maybe because of childhood trauma (I was left in a car during a storm as a kid), Steve and Bucky are her alphas but maybe they aren’t on speaking terms due to an argument, maybe they are overprotective?? Nat and Bruce are out on a hike but see the storm rolling towards the compound. They have to ring the boys as they know how scared you’ll be and the boys don’t know about your fear.

The arguments grew longer, harsher as the toil and weight of the alpha/omega relationships had grown almost egregious since the knowledge of what the other reality had done to omegas like you.

Steve and Bucky, as united as they were, had a great deal of difference of opinions than you did about what you needed, what you could handle. There was a moment of triumph and falling, a great deal of emotional wavering that had diluted your overall impression of the way of the world.

However none of that mattered when there when you were frightened beyond doubt.

When the clouds had started rumbling, you were reminded of the serum being injected in your veins, the current of electricity to get the already powerful substance surging. It was the thunder that matched the thrash of your heart.

It was the sight of lightning Illuminating the sky had been a reminder of the doctors crystalline eyes that were so bright and unyielding had went absolute shudders down your spine. It was the storm that made you dive into the walk-in closet, creating an almost panic-room like nest.

You stayed there with your knees tucked into your chest and your arms wrapped around yourself. Your head was hidden in your knees, tears rolling down your cheeks as you wait for the inevitable moment when you would either pass out from panic or have a complete blackout.

“Little omega,” you heard the muffling of one of their voices, “are you in here?”

The storm raging beyond the safety of the closet was fear inducing, the sound of the thunder crashing and shaking the room was more than you could physically manage.

“Hey sweetheart,” Steve approached the closet and gently tapped on the door, “can you let me in?”

You shuffled forward, pressed your palms flat against the closet doors and exhaled slowly, focusing on the gentleness of their scents and the way they had managed to ease your worries even through the closet doors and the walls of the panic-room nest you’d made.

“Come on, little one.” Bucky crooned sympathetically, trying to coax you out of your hiding place. “Its okay-“

“Is it over?” The door cracked open and you peered out, frightened despite your alphas being on the other side. “Is the storm over?”

“No, I’m sorry honey.” Steve had spoken softly, gently prying the door open a little more. “But its okay, we’re here. We’re going to protect you.”

Bucky reached in with his hand, offering it to you and even as you grabbed it and he pulled you out, your fear was kept at bay. He had done enough, they had been enough to calm you as you stepped out, distracting you by keeping you as close as possible.

“Its okay,” Bucky crooned as he tucked you between Steve and himself, “you’re okay, little one. We’re here.”

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humongousentertainer · 10 months

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I think my partner gave our cats a Y pipe 🧐

#humongous entertainment #pajama Sam #pajama sam 2 #pajama sam thunder and lightning #pajama sam thunder and lightning aren’t so frightening #thunder and lightning #thunder and lightning aren’t so frightening

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ja-pan-ese · 7 months

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Pajama Sam 2: Thunder and Lightning Aren’t So Frightening (1998)

#Pajama Sam #pajama sam 2 #pajama sam 2: thunder and lightning aren’t so frightening #point and click #pc games #childhood #nostalgia #humongous entertainment

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elizabethcrain · 2 years

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oh you know..eddie munson being eddie munson 😙

please tell me if this is good. i’ll keep writing. this is my first time EVER writing ANYTHING. so keep me posted ;).

um fluff probably

It’s currently storming pretty bad here in Hawkins, Indiana.

you and your boyfriend eddie are currently laying in his bed smoking a joint. chatting about Jason from school.

“he’s such a dick! i personally don’t know how he pulled chrissy she’s so sweet and pretty and he’s just..ugly and a bitch” you cringe while eddie giggles faintly.

“I mean you have a point. well not that i’m agreeing that she’s pretty..i mean she is!! just not like that!” he says defending himself and passing the joint to you.

“no i’m good i think i’ve has enough. and i know what you meant. you’re fine” you laugh and push his hand away. Eddie nods his head and takes a big hit then put out the joint for later. a big sound wave of thunder clapped and scared the bejesus out of you so bad you jump.

“scaredy-cat” Eddie taunts laughing at the way the thunder frightened you. “shut the fuck up.” you say hitting his chest and getting up from the bed and looking out the window to see how bad the weather is. you think of something and turn around to look at eds and say, “we should go outside!! and dance!!” walking torwards eddie on the bed.

“hell no! are you insane? it’s literally thundering and lightning out!” he exclaims quite loudly. “oh come on! i’ve always wanted to dance in a thunderstorm when i was little. and my mom wouldn’t let me. please tell me you aren’t gonna boss me around like my mother. now are you?” you say coming closer to him by crawling torwards him in the bed to sit on his lap. he places his hands on your hips and runs them up and down to your hips to your waist and says,

“okay fine! only for ten minutes!” while grabbing your waist and lifting you off his lap and on the bed. “yay!! okay let’s go!!” you say getting off the bed and grabbing his hand to go outside.

“aren’t you gonna put pants on first? you’re only wearing one of my shirts?” he says pulling down your shirt by the bottom and spinning you and making sure you can’t see anything.

“well can you see anything?” you say looking back at him.

“well..no but i don’t want our neighbors seeing anything.” he says turning you back around.

“our neighbors are max and a old couple. i think i should be fine.” you say giggling and hugging him by the waist. “okay, now let’s go!!” you say coming out of the hug and grabbing his hand to drag him outside. he’s sighs and says, “okay sweetheart! no rush.” while running with you out of his room and out of door to go outside.

you swing open the door and go down the stairs and run in the road with eddie, dancing and giggling and having the best time of your life.

after a while of dancing eddie looks at you and pulls you into him and says, “i love you so much” while pulling you into a kiss.

“i love you too darling” you say kissing him back.

Meanwhile,

“they’re so cute” max says to lucas. “i know i never thought that eddie could be so..romantic” lucas says surprised while looking at you and eddie.

“i wish you were like that” max says to lucas looking at him. “i am like that!! what do you mean!!” he says looking at her with wide eyes. “lucas chill out im only kidding!” she says laughing.

“whatever” lucas says pouting but then laughs a few seconds later because he’s just happy to see that max is finally laughing after a very long time.

HOW DID YOU LIKE IT?? i’m so sorry if it’s bad. i tried. ❤️

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lesserknownbots · 6 years

Photo

#video game #Bill Gate #Pajama Sam #Pajama Sam 2 #Pajama Sam 2: Thunder and Lightning Aren’t So Frightening

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aslanjadecarlyle · 5 years

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Me: I’m gonna take a shower—

*thunder rumbles*

Me: oh, whelp, looks like I’m gonna get struck by lightning

#thunder #&#lightning #aren’t so frightening #pajama sam #thunderstorms

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bump1nthen1ght · 3 years

Text

Late Night Favor (Shadow Monster x Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Urban Fantasy

Warnings: Explicit content up ahead (18+ ONLY), Oral, Fingering

Word Count: 4000 Words

Summary: A couple of small good deeds leaves you with a late night visitor, looking to repay a debt.

Request: "You unknowingly rescue a shadow monster and bring it home with you, after a couple days of lurking in the shadows of your home and recuperating it shows you just how thankful it is." I had this idea forever ago but was never able to execute it. My opening idea was that a few kids are shining flashlights at something, tormenting it, and you swoop in to save it and chase the kids away. You thought they were hurting a cat or something, but find nothing and head home.

What do you think? Would you like to take it on? I'd be honored if you would 😊

A/N: *Throws this into the street to appease for the fact I haven’t updated Out of the Woods in THREE MONTHS IM SORRY*

It was the perfect weather for a lazy day inside. The pitter patter of the rain on your window had almost lulled you back to sleep during breakfast, and the thunder had provided great ambiance for reading. You hadn’t bothered changing out of your pajamas and we’re enjoying a soap opera binge on the coach when the peace was disturbed.

At first it was just the sound of clattering trash cans, not uncommon from the alley outside your window. But then it was followed by the raucous laughter of teenagers, rocks being thrown against the concrete, and a sharp hissing.

You hoist yourself up and off the couch, meandering toward the balcony, expecting to see a bunch of kids fucking around; Maybe using the cover of the fire escape to hide from the rain and smoke some weed.

Ah, memories.

But instead, you see a huddled group of boys pointing a flashlight into the pile of garbage right by the dumpster. One of them picks up a pebble and throws it into the light beam, causing another hiss and a jerk of movement. The boys laugh even louder, the one on the right nudging the one with the flashlight.

“Dude, do it again!”

Flashlight agrees, quickly moving the light into another corner as the one on the left throws a rock in the opposite direction. A shape of pitch black hisses again, deterred by the rock and scared by the brightness. Your brow furrows.

“Hey!”

The boys jump, looking in all directions.

“What are you three doing down there?” They finally look up at you, messy-haired and bleary-eyed. They shrug and ignore you, one even throwing another rock, bigger than before. There’s a sad yelp as it collides with the blackness.

You grit your teeth, grabbing your jacket off a nearby shelf and yell again.

“Fuck off! Leave the poor thing alone!”

They all laugh insufferably, the way most stuck up teenagers do.

“Or what?”

You shrug on your raincoat, picking up the baseball bat you keep strategically placed by your couch.

“Or I’ll come down and make you, jackass!”

You kick open your fire escape, slippers already damp, and start marching down the staircases. The boys get the message and run away, still jeering and laughing. Seems you weren’t as intimidating as you’d like.

You shuffle down the fire escape, slowing down as you approach the poor creature. You lower your back and peak under the dumpster.

“It's okay, little guy, I won’t hurt ya.” You set down your bat and crouch, kissing your lips as you hold out your free hand. All you see is a hint of glowing eyes, nervously peering out, before the dark shape disappears completely, hidden by the shadow of the dumpster. You’re tempted to sit down and wait for it, hoping to check if the poor stray was injured, but the wet concrete looks unappealing. The bottom of your sweats are already drenched.

You stand up, sigh, and go back up the fire escape. You unlatch the dusty pet door on your sliding glass balcony and make sure to leave a hot thing of milk and some water just outside. You ponder going out to get cat food, but the well-timed weather report tells you to stay off the streets. Slumping back down on the couch, you keep on eye on your fire escape, hoping that whatever it was, it’s okay.

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

The next day is sunny, the rain clearing away any air pollution and leaving blue skies to shine down through your window, waking you up extra early. As you sit down with a cup of coffee, switching on the news before starting work, you notice the empty bowls on your balcony.

You set down the mug, walking over to the door and checking the bowls. Seems that little stray had needed the refreshment, as both were licked clean.

You refill them, making sure to add cat food to your grocery list.

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

After a long day of work, you’re feeling particularly domestic and decide to bake some cookies. Your brain is sore after staring at a screen for eight hours straight, a simple task like this is the perfect thing to keep it from melting completely.

You open up your window, letting the cool night air into your kitchen as you check on your baking cookies. Wiping flour off your pants, you turn on the radio and throw a glance to your living room.

You had set up a tiny blanket pallet right next to your pet door, the weatherman’s warning of another thunderstorm tonight having you worried for your stray. Hopefully a full belly of milk will convince them that your house is safe enough to find shelter in.

But the afternoon is beautiful, not too cold and not too hot, only the slight tang of metal in the air hinting to rain. With a ding from the oven, you take out the cookies and set them on a cooling tray on your window. The smell of cinnamon and sugar wafts over you as you take a sip of your tea, staring out into the city streets. Small puddles still speckle the pavement, catching the headlights of nearby cars and flashy billboards.

A quick sound, something hitting your balcony door, that jerks you out of your reverie. You set down your mug and slowly peek out from your kitchen, wondering if you should’ve grabbed a kitchen knife. But it’s just your pet door, flapping back and forth in front of two, now empty, bowls. Aww, seems your stray took a step inside. Too bad you missed it.

The gurgle of your stomach convinces you to take a crack at the cookies. If they were too hot, you could just wash them down with a nice glass of milk anyway. Maybe even put on a sitcom while you snack.

You lightly tap the top cookie; Warm, but not unbearable. Steam rises as you break it open, blowing in the middle and taking a tiny bite.

Fuck, good job _____.

They’re perfectly done, just soft enough to melt in your mouth. You grab two more, holding them in between your fingers as you hold the other half in your mouth. Maybe you could bring the batch into work tomorrow, give your coworkers a nice surprise. That is if you didn't have 10 tonight. But 20 should be just enough-

Huh, that’s weird. There's only 19, including the one still dangling out of your mouth.

You could’ve sworn you baked 20.

Well whatever. Your coworkers can handle not coming back for seconds tomorrow.

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

“Ow! Fuck!”

You bite your lip, trying not to yell out more curse words as you rub your stubbed toe. You limp to your kitchen, fumbling for the light switch to avoid another incident. All you had wanted was a midnight sweet snack, was that so difficult? You’d thought you could navigate your apartment pretty easily in the dark, but the pain in your foot says otherwise.

The light flickers as you finally find the switch, reminding you that you’re going to need to change the bulb sometime soon. But that's a problem for another day; Right now, it’s cookie time.

You don’t bother pouring yourself a glass or getting a plate, devouring the treat in three bites and throwing back a quick swig of milk. It’s almost midnight, not like anyone’s watching-

Oh, wait.

You slowly close the fridge door, trying to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake the little stray curled up, asleep. The little ball of black was snuggled into the pallet, tossing and turning. A flash of lightning cracks outside your apartment, washing your living room with light. The ball jerks in shock, the thunder afterwards only frightening it more, forcing it to curl up even tighter.

You take small and light steps towards the tiny bed, not wanting to approach the scared beast too quickly. The room is lit up again by another lightning strike and the little stray forces it’s body backwards and away from the window. You crouch down real low, the small bits of light helping your eyes adjust to the layout.

“How are you doing, little guy?” You whisper, mostly to yourself, tapping your fingers against your carpet. Part of you wants to pet it, but think it might be better not to. No need to startle it. “Is the lightning scary? You can come to my room if you want, I’ll protect ya.”

Midst the black, you see two little eyes, little blips of light that open with another flash of lightning. But they aren’t yellow, nor are they slitted, nor are they anything remotely animal.

They're like the headlights of a car, blinding white with no definition at all. Not even pupils. You're startled, eye’s widening as the creature lifts it’s head. A long smile runs across their face, full of razor sharp teeth.

“Oh my, that sounds delightful.” They purr, and you find yourself losing your footing and falling back on your ass. Your fingers dig into the carpet as their body slowly begins to unfurl out of a ball and stretch into a massive form, as if their whole size had been hidden away somewhere else; Like it had been literally in the shadows.

You scramble backwards, breath picking up as the creature stretches it’s long limbs, colorless eyes still locked onto you as it stands up and up. It rolls back its shoulders as it sits on its haunches, its form still towering over you even when crouched. You notice the shades of huge antlers sticking out from the side of their head, only adding to their intimidating height.

The creature still has that terrifying smile, all canines and no molars, it’s unblinking eyes still staring deep into your soul.

You’ve heard people do weird things in times of high stress, of strong emotions, good and bad. Like the wires in your brains get crossed when trying to find the right response.

“Uh, do you want a cookie?”

You think you get that now.

The creature chuckles, a soft timbre that echoes unnaturally.

“No, dearie, I have already indulged in your confections. You see,” They creature leans forward, falling to its knees to crawl towards you. If it weren’t for the overwhelming fear constricting your heart, you’d almost think it was seductive, “You’ve done so much for me these past days, I think it’d be only fair if I helped you indulge in a far-” The creature’s face looms over yours, their arms caging your sides as they lick their lips, “-sweeter treat, yes?”

Your eyes search their face, trying to find signs of trickery or malice, maybe even some demonic sense of humor.

As if I’d even know what that looks like.

“Are you-” You catch a breath, now noticing the fine musculature of their shoulders, and the definition of their arms, “Are you propositioning me, like, for sex?”

The creature laughs again, their eyes crinkling up as they throw their head back. But when they look back down at you, you can almost feel the lust radiating off their gaze, details be damned.

“Yes, lovely, I am.”

You take your eyes off their face, a little too overwhelmed to stare directly into their blistering expression. Not to mention the blinding light which has begun to put red spots into your vision.

Instead, your eyes fall upon their thick thighs, the small tail waving behind them, and how unnervingly sexy you find the way their claws are digging up your rug.

You slowly move your head, catching the creature’s eyes.

“I-uh-I guess? Yeah, yeah I guess that sounds good. Um, what was your name?”

The creature smirks, a single claw tipped finger tilting up your chin, as they whisper,

“Nocter.”

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

Well, this is definitely the weirdest way I’ve gotten someone into bed.

Nocter’s antlers brush against your stucco-ceiling as it pushes you down on the bed, their shining white eyes staring deep into yours. Their lack of pupils is almost unsettling, but when they run their claws down your chest and pinch your nipples, you find it hard to care. You bite your lip, fighting back an embarrassing whimper as they trace one finger around the bud, pebbling the skin.

“Aww, has it been a while, sweetling?” You roll your eyes, but let out another squeak as they flick their thumb across your other nipple, the palm of their hand pressing against your ribcage.

“M-maybe.” You mutter, digging your finger into your bed sheets as their hands dance across your skin. One pulls up the bottom of your pajama shirt as it nudges one of their legs in between your thighs, pushing their knee up against your crotch.

“Don’t worry,” They push the fabric up to your neck, laying a kiss on the center of your stomach, then your chest, and then your jugular. When they plant one on your jaw, they lean in real close, “I’ll make sure to treat you right.”

Nocter’s long tongue splays against your jaw, licking a stripe up your cheek as one of their hands moves from your chest to the waistband of your shorts. They slip a couple fingers underneath, lightly petting the area right above your crotch. They’re such a tease, and you love it.

Nocter pecks the side of your face, over and over, while their hand moves further and further down your body at an agonizing pace. Their hot breath sends goosebumps down your neck, washing over your face as they exhale with every kiss. You catch them off guard when you turn your head toward them, catching their lips-mid peck and eagerly sticking your tongue outward. They purr with delight, their thin almost-lips quickly devouring you.

A long string of saliva connects the two of you as you detach, taking the time to shimmy out of your shirt. You pull them closer, your hands digging into their shoulder muscles and fingers just brushing over the long ridges on their back. They chuckle once again, pulling their fingers out your shorts and merely digging their palm into the fabric of your crotch.

“Eager, huh?”

“Shut up,” You mumble in between kisses, “This is for me, isn’t it?”

“Ohoho,” kiss, “Someone’s showing their feisty side a little early.” kiss, “What happened to my benevolent, saintly saviour?” kiss.

You pull away from their lips, quickly latching onto the crux of their neck and taking a nip. “S’not fair.” You say, taking a deep whiff of their skin as you suck and bite. They smell like brimstone and a bonfire, not quite what you 're expecting, but not unpleasant. “You can’t tease me like that and not-” Your cut off as the pad of one Nocters fingers presses up against your entrance, the fabric only amplifying the sensation as they begin to tease it.

“Deliver?” Nocter finishes, sinfully smug. You throw them a glare. “I’m a good guest, scout’s honor.”

You roll your eyes right before they lock you into another kiss, rubbing the pads of their fingers up and down your crotch. They use their hand to push you backwards, sinking deeper into the mattress as they situate their knees under your thighs. One they pull back from the kiss, your face and lips thoroughly debauched, your legs are splayed up on their pelvis and they easily slip off your bottoms. Nocter takes a whiff of your underwear, the crotch now slightly damp, giving you a wink before they throw it over their shoulder.

You jerk your hips slightly upward, and Nocter tuts.

“Patience, sweetling.” They roll a hand down your abdomen, fingers splaying onto your stomach, nails just teasing the skin. With a kiss to your inside calf, Nocters hand ghosts across your entrance. You can’t help biting your lip, the heat and their touch sending your mind into a frenzy.

They continue a path of kisses down your leg, now pressing their finger right up against your hole. They only pause to suck on their index and middle fingers, coating them with a heavy and blue-tinted saliva. Once they’ve reached the middle of your thigh, nipping at the apex, they sink into you.

Nocter’s fingers are long, articulated and move with sure movements. They start off slow, scissoring you open, simpering as you dig your nails into your bed sheets. The pads of their fingers push against your walls, just grazing sensitive spots as they make a slow ‘come hither’ motion. Your hips jerk forward, humping into their palm. They smirk against your skin, nipping another love bite as they retract their fingers until only the tip remains. You catch your breath, holding it until they sink back into you, shoving their fingers forward with far more force.

You whimper as their fingers pull back, only to follow with quicker thrusts. Nocter’s aim is pin-point in finding the most pleasurable spots inside you, the feeling only amplified by the pinpricks of their teeth into the fat of your thigh. The tip of their tongue licks hot trails of spit tantalizingly close to your hole, which clenches around their bony fingers. The slick sound of your juices, the skin of their palm slapping against yours, is downright pornographic.

Your legs try to clamp around their shoulders, the overwhelming stimuli triggering an instant reaction, but Nocter pins your right leg down to your bed easily, never losing focus on fingering you. The tips of their claws trace the inside of your leg, the hard edge of their wrist digging into fat. Your fingers reach to grip around something, anything to keep you grounded as the knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter. They find their way around Nocter’s left wrist; You’re almost afraid you’ll leave bruises, before remembering how sturdy every part of their body seems to be.

You let out a whimper as the crests of an orgasm seem to overwhelm you, nearly gasping as Nocter quickly removes their fingers. In any other state of mind you might have made a comment, look down and wonder why they’ve stopped. But the heat in your belly compels you to grip their wrist tight and to throw your hips upwards. With a desperate breath, you plead,

“P-please! Please, don’t stop.”

Nocter doesn’t chuckle, doesn’t make a sly remark about your neediness or your lewd movements. They lean forward, giving another kiss right below your navel, and pet your wrist.

“Of course, dearie.”

With a wink, they lean down a lick a long stripe up your hole, giving one last kiss to your leg before plunging their tongue inside.

You didn’t think it was possible for them to reach even deeper inside you with their tongue than their fingers, but the sparks which fly in your core say otherwise. The ridges of Nocters tongue brush against your walls as they flick the appendage back and forth, the tip pressing forward with controlled motions. It doesn’t thrash back and forward haphazardly, but reaches for those sensitive spots and plays with them.

“Oh, f-fuck!” You yelp, feeling an icy-cold liquid run down your ass. From the sound of smacking lips and muffled moans, it must be Nocter’s saliva. They let out a groan, pushing their jaw forward as their eyes clenched shut. The hand on your leg pinches skin as it tightens up, the other pressing your hips down, but the pressure they apply is phantom at best. Nocter seems to revel in your pleading humps for more, meeting each movement with a thrust of their jaw, the base of their tongue stretching you open.

The two of you keep that rhythm for what feels like an eternity, but is probably only a couple of minutes. Sweat drips down your chest and off of your belly, your legs muscles on fire as you continue to push upward and into Nocter’s face. You start feeling that impending wave begin to crest again, with your limbs shaking and your throat hoarse.

“Nocter, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-I’m so close!”

This time, Nocter doesn’t let up on their pace, reaching one hand down to deliver a hard slap on your ass and forcing a yelp out of you. Your speech devolves into slurred curses and your hands move to touch them, to find some grasp in reality. Nocter continues to suck and tongue-fuck your hole as your thighs clench around their head. Your humps are tiny and weak, your lower half barely holding itself up.

The knot gets tighter, a firecracker fuse about to blow in your abdomen. In the heat of the moment, your hands find their way to Nocter’s scalp and grab onto the base of their antlers. Their moan rumbles through you, right before you yank their head forward, their tongue hitting the deepest part of you as you shutter and-

“I’m cumming!”

Another moan vibrates against your hole as your body shudders and jolts, your hips still pressed firmly against Nocter’s face. But in the next moment, a heavy weight falls over your body, slumping you down onto the bed. Your chest heaves, eye’s fuzzy as Nocter’s tongue ‘pop’s out of you.

Your gaze wanders over your stucco ceiling, droplets of sweat rolling down your neck as you try and catch your breath. You can feel Nocter’s large hands rolling a massage into your thighs, their own heavy breathing brushing over your crotch.

A fuzzy shape of pure black comes into your vision as Nocter hovers over you, their body hovering just an inch above yours. They give you a small peck on the cheek.

“Feel good?” They whisper.

All you can do is nod, your shaky hands wandering over their back. There’s no sign of sweat on their skin, but you can feel the heat running off of it as they nuzzle into your neck.

As your fingers dance over the ride of their back, you can hear the rumble of a low purr coming from their chest, but they stay hovering over your body. You press your hands into their back, applying weak pressure to encourage them to relax.

“It seems I’ve repaid my debt.” Nocter murmurs into your ear, pushing themselves up onto their hands, pulling even farther from you as their eye’s look around your room. You keep your hands wrapped around their waist, stopping them from fully getting up. They look back to you, white eyes slightly widening.

“Would you-” You take another deep breath, “Want to stay? For the night?”

Nocter stares at you, the black void of their face almost unreadable. But when they run a claw down the side of your face, it burns with affection and longing.

“Would you want that?”

Your room is nearly pitch black, only the lights of the street peeking in between your curtains. Nocter’s body seems to absorb all light near it, their hot body like a heating pad. But their eyes are so bright, so full, so mesmerizing; Like a full moon on the dark city sky.

“Yes, I would.”

Nocter’s nods, their expression barely changing, but you think you can see a hint of a smile amidst all the black. They let their body relax, pressing their chest against yours as they sink into the sheets and nuzzle back into your neck.

You can smell the sweat coating your body and feel the way you stick to the sheets. Frankly, the both of you kind of smell.

But it doesn’t stop you from snuggling into Nocter’s body, eye’s heavy as you peacefully fall into sleep.

#my writing #gender neutral reader #shadow monster #monster/human #monster x reader

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