#I do still have some vague memories of watching it for the first time

[tangerinesgirl]

Pull Some Strings

Fem!Reader x Frank/Adam Barrett (Abigail)

Word count: 1.1k

Rating: 18+, explicit

Warnings: smut, denied orgasm, GodComplex!Frank, JOI, degradion, Frank swearing a lot (as usual), pet names, vaguely non con if you squint bc mind control

Summary: You've been flirting with Frank the entire evening. He tests his new vampire powers and turns you into his puppet. Things get freaky.

Notes: this seems too good to not have been done before, I did have a search beforehand so I'm sorry if it does exist! We need more Frank smut ASAP! Also, reader has nipple piercings in this and there's use of Y/N.

You jump awake with a burning hot pain in your neck. You reach to touch the wound but you find nothing there. Memories start to play in your mind, how Frank willingly accepted the offer to be turned into a monster, while you sat on the floor helpless. You were heartbroken that he could turn into a traitor like that, after the two of you fighting so hard together, but the other part of you couldn't keep your eyes off him, seeing him covered in blood, moaning as Lambert gave him his new life. You watch in horror as he stakes Lambert through the heart, you try to grab the shelf behind you to get up, but Frank stamps on your arm, breaking it instantly. You scream as he pulls your hair, exposing your neck to him.

Frank whispers in your ear, "I'm going to make you my puppet, and we're going to have a little fun". You whimper as he pecks a little kiss on the side of your mouth, and dives his teeth into your neck. You can feel yourself getting colder, your body twitching as you loose consciousness.

*

"Y/N....you are mine"

The sound of Frank's voice lures you back awake. You're in a bedroom somewhere, but you can tell you're still in this god forsaken house. "Oh good you're awake". You look around the room instinctively trying to find the source of the voice.

"What's going on?"

"Keep up sweetheart, did you not pay attention to what happened to Sammy? Or were you too busy trying to get me to fuck your brains out?"

Your mind jumps back to how you flirted playfully with Frank the whole evening. The car ride where you were zipping your hoodie down to make your breasts pop out. When you brushed past him to open the door. The way you would look at his lips, and chew the bottom of yours every time he gave the crew orders. You found him very attractive, and the dominance was a huge turn on for you.

You sit next to him at the bar in the house, "You know, I'm very much into the hot boss scenario". Your hand brushes against his as you reach for your drink. In a split second, Frank pins your hand to the counter and grabs your neck with the other one, "You're really going to flirt with me when we have bigger fucking problems right now?"

Everyone in the group stares at you as you go bright red from embarrassment. You decide to roll with it, liking how agitated Frank is getting at your advances. Afterall you've nothing to loose, no one will know your true name after this. You moan loudly with a "oh yes, harder daddy". Frank lets you go in disgust. He spits out a "fucking whore" under his breath. You hear him and giggle, "only for you" and blow him a kiss as he walks away.

*

Your mind snaps back to reality. "I know how you like being told what to do, and I'm curious to see if this actually fucking worked first time... So...Frank says, take off your hoodie". You immediately unzip your hoodie without a moment's thought, "What the fuck?"

"Frank says undo your bra". You do as he says, part of you is very much into him finally reciprocating what you've been putting down the whole evening, even in these circumstances.

"Frank says play with your nipples". You moan as you grab your breasts and tug gently on your nipples.

"Wait I can feel something cold...do you have piercings? That's fucking hot... Frank says undo your belt". The belt clinks to the floor, you can somehow tell that Frank is doing the same, wherever he is.

"Frank says undo your buttons". You unzip your jeans, and dip your hand in further, you can feel the wetness growing in your underwear as you try and find some kind of friction.

"Frank says stop. Frank didn't say to do that now, did he?"

You shake your head.

"Use your words"

"No"

"No what?"

"No sir"

"Good girl. Now. Frank says to circle your fucking clit. Slowly"

You moan softly, it's painful for you not to do anything else right now.

"Frank says stop"

The slow orders are making you impatient, you need more of a release, "please".

"Please what?"

"I need more"

"Then you fucking wait"

You can feel Frank playing with his cock, it pains you that you can't see, but you can feel him growing hard, the pre cum on his hands. You can even hear his subtle moans as he palms himself.

"Frank says dip your index finger into your pussy".

You sigh in relief as your hand finally enters you.

"Frank says insert another finger"

You fuck yourself open, Frank can hear the sound of your wetness and swears under his breath.

"You sound fucking soaked, the sound of my voice gets you this wet huh? Now...play with your clit".

You start to do so and Frank laughs, "Frank didn't say "Frank says" now did he?"

You cry out in agitation, "Frank please".

"Nah ah, what do you call me?"

"Sorry, sir"

"That's better baby. Frank says touch your clit"

You can feel yourself getting closer, Frank can too. "I'm going to cum Fr-sir, please can I cum?".

"Frank says stop"

"No!" You whimper as you pull your hands out of you. Denying you of your orgasm makes Frank's come quicker, the power over you as well as being a newly turned vampire makes him feel like a God. He takes off his shirt as he starts to cum on his chest. You can feel the hot liquid on your chest too. Your hands feel around but there's nothing there. You're really pissed off, but still very much aroused. Frank moans as he continues to empty himself on his chest, it seems to last forever. As he finally comes to a stop, he lets out one last big moan. "Do you want to taste?"

Part of you wants to give him the silent treatment for the way he just used you, but you say "yes sir" like the good puppet you are.

Frank takes a finger of his cum off his chest and wipes it on his lips. He licks it up with his tongue. You can feel the taste slowly seeping into your mouth, you bite your lip and swirl your tongue around, lapping up every invisible drop. It's salty, with a hint of iron, but oddly creamy at the same time.

"I think that was a pretty successful test, wouldn't you say, Y/N?"

You finally find your backbone after Frank and his stupid voice turned it into mush, "Fuck you".

"Oh I will, right after I kill me a vampire"

#frank x reader #frank (abigail) x reader #fanfic #abigail #movie #dan stevens #adam barrett #adam barrett x reader #horror #vampire

[sysig]

Stick figure skeletons (Patreon)

#Doodles #UT #Papyrus #Sans #Cutest little lads #I had a good handful of stick figures of them from my 2015/2016 notebook and it really is a cute style #Y'know funny enough now that I think of it lol - Those doodles were also in December! #(I'm tagging these in December still lol hi from the past) #It's that Undertale time of year <3 Apparently I first found it Dec. 17th 2015 hehe #A little late to the party! But not terribly so ♪ And I had managed to avoid spoilers up to that point lol #I do still have some vague memories of watching it for the first time #I watched a Pacifist run first and cried - of course #And then watched a Genocide run soon after and cried even more #I remember being very confused as to what the Fight timing option even was the first time I saw it lol #Since in Pacifist you can go the entire time without even accidentally using it! You can ACT or ITEM instead #It's interesting to think back on such a huge shift in culture on the broadscale #And also a personal milestone :) Something that tipped the scales! #Something that even now I'm grateful for and think of fondly ♥ #And it's all still fun to draw! What more could I ask for haha #I think with this super-simple style in particular I like making their designs complement each other #So Papyrus is all stick lines and Sans has thicker bones #Papyrus' eyes are upright and Sans' are laid flat haha #They both have circle heads to start tho! Papyrus just gets a rectangle grafted on for his jaw lol #They're easy to pose together like this too! #It's fun and silly ♪ Just how I like :D

[dan-crimes]

LMAO so funny thing is everyone knows the whole Sonic and Shadow looking alike thing is total bullshit and I totally agree those comments they try to pull in the games and show(s? I'm not technically a Sonic fan I dunno if it's multiple) make basically no sense to me but then my Mom comes in while watching Sonic Prime and says "So what, Sonic has a brother or something?" and this whole other world has opened up to me and I've seen the truth of it all

#so to clarify I do not consider myself a Sonic fan since I have never played a Sonic game and I've never read any of the comics #and idk the lore cuz I've never really bothered to watch other people play it and I have watched some of the shows #y'know my grandma had 4Kids so sometimes I would catch Sonic X on TV #but literally most of my knowledge of the Sonic franchise is just having people talk to me about it #like when I was a kid my grandma babysat these kids who were older than me I forget how old I was like under 10 I think #and one of the kid's big interest was Sonic so I would just sit and listen to him talk about Sonic the entire time I was there #he would play the games too I think but my brain didn't process any of that so I have no actual memory of the screen #I would mostly just pay attention to him talking cuz he would talk about it while playing it was great #so that is the base of my knowledge and then after my grandma stopped babysitting them it was radio silence #until y'know people would occasionally bring stuff up in videos I'd watch and I'd look @ videos about people talking abt Sonic #occasionally and see like memes or YTPs of Sonic or y'know abridged stuff #but I literally never actually watched a Sonic game until Frontiers came out and then The Murder Of Sonic the Hedgehog #and Sonic Prime is the first Sonic show I properly sat down and watched which show is great btw I enjoy it a lot #but yeah and it was vaguely purposeful like I was keeping myself away cuz I know how I am about stuff and I WILL try to learn EVERYTHING #if I get too interested in Sonic as a franchise #oh I did play Unleashed sometime after it first came out and couldn't get past like the first fuckin level but tbf I was like 7 years old #possibly 8 years old cuz I'm not 100% sure how much later I got the game but like I was really bad @ any game that wasn't just like #spamming buttons since I grew up on fighting games lmao #but yeah I dropped the game almost immediated I do not count that for anything #but yeah long story short: all my knowledge is second hand like I still think I know a good amount for what it's worth but #I wouldn't trust my own knowledge

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Follow Me

Luke Castellan x daughterofares!Reader

Summary: Luke's girlfriend is excited to finally become a year-round camper so she can spend it with him. But Luke has other plans for them.

Warning: Major spoilers if you haven't finished the first book(/season depending on when you read this), canon-level violence, weapons, injuries, angst

Word Count: 5.5K

Masterlist

A/N I haven't watched the show because I don't have Disney+ so I'm working from (memory of) the books. No characters are specifically book or show so descriptions are left vague. Imagine whatever you want.

I stumbled my way up Half-Blood Hill, determined to get to Thalia’s tree. This was my last year being a summer camper. After I graduated high school I’d decided to become a year round camper seeing as the real world was getting more and more dangerous for me. And I'd be damned if I let myself be killed right before I was in the safety of camp for good.

I was in so much pain, there was blood pouring out of my abdomen caused by the crocotta’s razor sharp claws slicing at me. My short break gave it enough time to catch up to me so rather than continuing to flee, I was forced to turn and face it. I pulled out my father’s gift to me, a sword made of celestial bronze that grew from a steel knife that could harm mortals. When he claimed and gifted it to me I found the steel useless. Why would I ever need to harm a mortal? The reasoning behind the dual blade still eluded me. The only reason I could think of was just that Ares had a penchant for violence.

As the crocotta bounded closer to me, all I could do was stand and wait for it to get within range. But upon reaching me, it just swiped the sword from my grasp, pouncing on me. I felt a tear slip down my face as I realized I’d failed to reach safety one final time. As it growled in my face and opened its jaw, I sent a silent prayer to my father and a goodbye to Luke. But before it’s jaws could clamp down on me, the weight lifted and a shimmery cloud of ichor rained down on me.

As the golden dust settled, I could see my boyfriend’s face above mine, standing over me, clutching his dagger. “Luke,” I practically sobbed in relief.

“Oh my gods,” he exclaimed, kneeling down next to me. His hands went to my stomach, pressing against the open wound, trying to stop the bleeding. “Can you walk?” he asked, fear in his eyes.

“Yeah,” I nodded, letting him take my hand as he stood. Truthfully I probably couldn’t really walk but it was either walk 10 feet to the tree or lie here waiting for someone else to help Luke carry me in and potentially getting attacked by another monster.

I let out a groan as Luke slung my arm over his shoulder, pulling me up from the ground. “C’mon,” he urged, “just get to the tree and then we’ll get some more people to help you.” I nodded, not bothering with a verbal agreement as I let my boyfriend practically carry me just past Thalia’s tree. “There we go,” he said gently as he eased me to the ground.

“Go. Go get Lee or Michael,” I urged him as he kneeled by my side again.

“No,” Luke immediately shot down. “I’m not leaving you like this and so close to the edge of the barrier.” I glanced to my left. We were about three feet from the edge of the camp’s protective barrier. “Help!” I heard him yell towards camp.

“What? Do you think I'm accidentally gonna roll down the hill?” I tried to joke. But my chuckle made my wounds hurt even more.

Seeing my pain made Luke even more unamused. Soon enough a few other campers ran up to us, having heard Luke’s call.

“Y/N, oh my god.”

“What happened?”

“Another one?!”

I heard the various reactions from other campers. Another one? What did they mean another one? But I didn’t dwell on my questions for long because Lee Fletcher and Michael Yew were running towards me. A few of my siblings followed them carrying a stretcher. As the Apollo boys started to try to stop the bleeding, I was moved onto the stretcher. But the pain of being lifted was so bad I blacked out.

~

When I came to in the sickroom of the Big House all I could feel was pain. I let out a soft groan, snapping Luke to attention. He was slumped over on my bedside, seemingly sleeping. He immediately grabbed a piece of ambrosia off the nightstand next to the cot, bringing it to my lips. I immediately rejected it, not feeling like eating anything.

“C’mon, it’s ambrosia. It’ll make you feel better,” Luke pleaded. Reluctantly I let him coax the food into my mouth and ate it. The comforting taste of my mother’s chocolate cake filled my mouth. Despite the fact that it tasted good, it felt heavy in my stomach and I pushed the food away. “You gotta eat more than that,” he tried again.

“Let’s start with water or nectar,” I suggested, my throat sore.

Luke looked at the floor angrily. He sighed. “We’re out of nectar for a while. Ambrosia is all we have.”

“What?” I asked in shock, sitting up in surprise. Luke was quick to coax me back down.

“Grover and the kid he was helping got attacked by the Minotaur on their way here. Just like the crocotta attacked you.”

“Oh my god,” I murmured. “Is that why someone said ‘Another one?’ as they were bringing me here?”

He nodded once again. “His name was Percy. He showed up the night before you did.” He suddenly stopped talking. Like he had something more to say. I urged him to continue and he did so reluctantly. “Poseidon claimed him the second night he was awake… and now he’s on a quest.”

I looked at him sympathetically. I knew all about Luke’s anger about going unclaimed for so long. And then when he finally was claimed and had trained to be a great hero, all Hermes could give him to do was steal some golden apples. But after countless rants about this I knew he wouldn’t want sympathy. “You said he’s on a quest already? How long have I been out?”

“A couple days. Chiron and Lee kicked me out for a while.”

“What’d you do?”

“Well, we already need new practice dummies for combat training,” he admitted sheepishly. I laughed and fortunately Luke did too.

By now, Chiron had sensed I was awake and entering the sickroom. As he ducked his way through the door he shrunk down back into his wheelchair so as to not overwhelm me. “I’m glad to see you’re awake. You gave us quite a scare for a few days,” he smiled.

“So I've heard.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like my guts were ripped out by a crocotta,” I answered.

“Well the ambrosia should help the pain and scarring. Lee stopped the bleeding and stitched you up but he said you’d be out for a few days.”

“Can you get her some nectar?” Luke interrupted. “She’s not exactly in a place to be eating solid foods.”

“Mr. D is trying to get into contact with Apollo. Apparently he’s concerned that Dionysus is overindulging.”

“That’s crap!” Luke suddenly burst out.

“Luke!” Chiron immediately cut him off. “I know you’re concerned for Ms. L/N, here but the food of the gods is in of itself a privilege.” He then turned his attention back to me. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well but ambrosia will have to do until we’re able to get more nectar.”

“Thanks, Chiron,” I tried to dismiss him, giving him a tight lipped smile. Sensing my disappointment he took his leave, wheeling out of the room.

Luke was back by my bedside with more pieces of ambrosia that I reluctantly took.

~

Thanks to the godly food I was up and walking within two days much to cabin 5’s relief. So many of my younger siblings were saying that Clarisse had been a terror in my absence. Something about a bathroom exploding and then she apparently tried to electrocute the new camper. I made a note to talk to her later but for now I was focused on getting my cabin back in order. They responded best to authority and a routine so I quickly had them out in training, telling them that I wouldn’t tolerate us losing capture the flag again.

We made our way down to the arena for sword fighting lessons. Luke and I were both instructors seeing as we were the oldest two campers and the best with blades. Our childhood competitiveness had eventually grown into love but for a while, we hated each other. We used to spend hours trying to get the upper hand over one another.

But now that we were dating, the younger campers always tried to goad us into sparring with one another. We always said that we’d save our sparring match for our own training or a reward for the others doing well but usually a few teasing comments had our swords pointed at one another.

I was correcting a Hermes camper’s form when he asked me to try fighting Luke. “Not today,” I laughed.

“Why? Is it because you’re scared?” he asked, knowing exactly what he was doing.

“No,” I corrected him. “It’s because once we fight, none of you will care about what we teach you.”

“Sound like you’re scared,” the boy just repeated.

I just rolled my eyes, prepared to dismiss him when Luke’s voice interrupted. “Yeah, Y/N. It sounds like you’re scared.” I rolled my eyes again as he approached. “I wouldn’t want to fight the capture the flag champion either.”

“You only won because I was recovering from being chased across the country by a monster. Just wait until the next game, I’ll show you how Cabin 5 does it.” That elicited a few cries of encouragement from my cabin, eager to win their flag back.

“You need a bit more time to train, I get it,” he mockingly offered. A few of his siblings joined in on the taunting with their exaggerated reactions.

“I don’t need time. I’d just rather not cut you up this early into the summer,” I smiled. A few ‘ooh’s came from our audience.

Luke bristled a little at that. “C’mon,” he gestured to the arena, “let’s settle this once and for all.”

I picked up one of the practice swords that resembled the size and weight of my real sword, stepping into the middle of the arena. “You say that every time.” Luke smiled, taking his spot in front of me with his practice sword as the other campers backed up.

I barely gave him a chance to settle before I was moving. I had the advantage of my father’s knack for fighting and aggression but I wasn’t as strong as Luke. Unfortunately, he knew all my moves and tricks so he was able to block me. But that also meant I knew all of his moves and tricks because I could anticipate his subsequent moves.

We continued on, trying to outmaneuver each other. He kept forcing me out of range, protecting his body, whilst I tried to find an opening to get close to him. The other campers had been within the walls of the arena but we moved around so much they were forced to jump out.

The only reason we stopped was because our little “lesson” had gone on too long and Chiron was wondering where his students were. Neither of us noticed him until he yelled our names. “Y/N L/N! Luke Castellan! What are you doing?” We both immediately stopped, facing the centaur like guilty children.

“We were just introducing them to technique,” Luke offered. I could tell Chiron saw right through his excuse but it was good enough reasoning.

“You both know you’re supposed to hold off on sparring one another. Children,” he turned to the other campers, “what did your instructors teach you?”

“Stance!”

“What to do if your opponent has a longer sword!”

Those were the answers our siblings offered but one Aphrodite camper’s answer ruined the whole thing. “How to waste time.” Luke and I both sent her stares.

Fortunately Chiron didn’t take it too seriously. “Save the sparring for your own sessions,” he warned us. “Everyone move on to your next activities. I’m sure your instructors are waiting.”

As everyone else filed off, Luke and I looked at each other. “You’re disgusting,” I laughed, observing his sweaty shirt.

He looked baffled at that. “Wow. I was gonna ask if you’re okay but clearly you don’t value me that much,” he answered in mocking offense.

“No, no, no,” I corrected through laughs, going to him. But as soon as he tried to hug me, I pulled away with a wrinkled nose. Seeing my disgust, he forcefully hugged me, drowning me in his B.O. When I finally wrestled my way out of his arms I was disgusting. “Ugh we both need showers.”

He smiled. “I’ll see you at dinner,” he promised. He stepped closer to me, kissing me quickly before heading off towards the showers. I watched him leave for a moment before heading to my cabin.

Later that night at dinner, I was talking to my cabin-mates when Luke came over, crouching by me. “Hey,” he smiled up at me as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“Hi,” I laughed. “What are you doing here?”

“Being a good boyfriend. I’m just giving you a heads up that our spar from earlier isn’t over yet.”

“What?”

Chiron stood up and so did Luke. “Gotta go, bye,” he said, pressing a kiss to my temple before scurrying off.

Bewildered, I looked up at Chiron. “We have a special activity tonight per the request of the reigning capture the flag champions. We’ll be playing again tonight seeing as some claimed our last games were unfair due to a missing counselor.” Cabin 5 erupted into cheers, eager to win the flag back. “Luke Castellan and Y/N L/N are captains. Same rules as the prior games.”

Not willing to let my cabin lose again, I jumped into action. “Cabin 5, armor on, get to the creek in 5!” They all quickly scrambled off. Our allies for this game, Dionysus, Aphrodite, Demeter, and Hephaestus followed their lead.

I followed after them to get my armor as well and soon enough I was stood by the creek, discussing strategy with my teammates. Once our discussion time drew to a close, I faced my opposing captain. “You’re going down, feather feet,” I sneered.

“We’ll see, hot head,” Luke taunted.

I laughed. “Oh yeah, one more thing,” I told my teammates. “Bring me Luke’s sword and helmet.”

“In your dreams,” he taunted back. He looked at his team. “Bring me Y/N.”

“Okay,” Chiron interrupted us. “Before we begin I think we need a reminder that killing is not permitted. Are we clear?” A few unenthusiastic agreements came from the crowd. Nodding, Chiron blew into the horn, signaling that the games had begun. Some of my campers who hadn’t already been stationed bolted into the trees, doubling back so they could hopefully sneak through Hermes’ cabin’s defenses. The others stayed with me to defend the most obvious point.

One Hermes kid immediately jumped at me but I slashed him in the chest, (his armor protected him so he just got the wind knocked out of him) knocking him back into the water.

He got back up, running at one of my campers but he was immediately disarmed and taken prisoner. By the time I looked back, the other campers and Luke were gone. I realized with a frustrated scream that this kid was a distraction. “Find them!” I yelled at the others.

“Their territory or ours?” I observed the 5 campers in front of me. “You three, stay on our side. Fan across the creek, look for signs they crossed into our territory. The rest of you, we’re gonna either hunt them down in their territory or take their flag.”

My group leapt over the creek, running into the forest.

As we searched, we picked up a few of our own teammates, running through the woods and strangely finding no opposing campers. We continued on nonetheless until Athena and Apollo campers all of a sudden started darting through the trees.

Eventually they stopped moving enough for us to have a proper fight. I faced Malcom Pace, easily disarming him. But suddenly his older brothers were on me. As I was busy fighting twins, Leo and Cato, another one of the boys found an opening. Quinn wrapped his arms around me, a dagger at my throat. “Drop the sword,” they told me.

Seeing as I wasn’t getting out of this but my teammates were gone while many of the Athena and Apollo campers were still here, I dropped the sword. Most of my campers got away and were likely hunting down the flag.

Before they could decide where to stash their prisoner, the horn blew again, signaling the end of the games. But as I tried to leave, the others stopped me. “Woah, Luke said he wanted you so we’re taking you.”

I rolled my eyes, letting them lead me to the creek. “Yeah, well when my cabin gives me his stuff and the flag, you can apologize to me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Quinn dismissed. “You’re just mad I beat you.”

“You only ‘beat me’ because there were three of you. And you guys still lost the rest of my team.”

“We still got you!” Leo taunted in a sing-songy voice. By now we had reached the creek and I saw Clarisse holding the flag, a helmet, and a sword. Luke was kneeled beside her looking humiliated, clearly a captive.

Both sides let us go and I went to Clarisse. “Your spoils,” she presented me the flag, helmet, and sword. I smiled, wrapping the flag around her shoulders and taking Luke’s stuff.

“Thank you!” I said emphatically, pointing a look of victory at Luke.

He just shook his head, standing up. As he approached me I figured he was grabbing his belongings but instead he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me in for a kiss. When he pulled away he explained. “You’re my spoil.”

~

Camp life continued on as normal for a while. I finally met the newest hero who had returned Zeus’ masterbolt— he did not like my father. He seemed surprised that Luke and I were dating and I learned that Luke had become a sort of mentor to Percy over the days that I had been asleep. That also surprised me, given how resentful Luke had seemed towards him when I first woke up. Regardless, everything seemed normal as we continued our routines throughout the summer until I was woken up one night.

“Y/N,” a voice whispered, shaking me. “Y/N.” I reluctantly opened my eyes, finding one of my younger brothers, Aiden, shaking me. “Luke’s asking for you.”

“What?” I asked, sitting up.

“Luke wants to talk to you. He gave me a coke if I woke you up.” The boy excitedly held up a shiny red can as if to persuade me to go.

I rubbed his messy hair as I sat up. “Don’t let Clarisse see that,” I advised, throwing on a hoodie. He nodded, going back to his bunk as I headed outside. “Luke!” I whispered into the night upon exiting the cabin. I didn’t notice him sneaking up towards me until his hands were around my waist. “Luke!” I exclaimed in surprise.

He quickly hushed me. “Do you want the harpies to find us?”

“Well we wouldn’t have to worry about that if you weren’t trying to talk to me in the middle of the night. What’s wrong?” I asked, knowing it’d be serious. He let his playful facade drop as he urged me to follow him, taking my hand. I went with him, silently trusting him until I realized we were heading to the woods. I stopped, letting my hand fall out of his grasp. “What? Are you gonna kill me in there?” I laughed shallowly, trying to lighten the mood and quell the alarms in my brain.

Luke returned my shallow laugh, clearly nervous. “Of course not. Look, I have to talk to you. It’s serious.” I could see the genuineness in his expression so I let him retake my hand. “I’d never hurt you,” he promised. So I followed him further into the woods until he deemed us far enough. “The nymphs may hear us but it’s kind of impossible to avoid them,” he chuckled.

“Hear what?” I asked.

He took a breath, seemingly composing himself. “You know how I went on that quest? For my dad?”

“Yeah. What? You want to go out into the world again?” I asked, a little relieved.

“Sort of,” he offered. “But on that ‘quest,’” he mocked the word, “I realized something: the gods are useless.”

“Luke!” I immediately reprimanded him.

“No,” he cut me off. “You don’t have to pretend like not fawning over the gods is a crime. We shouldn’t be blindly worshipping them. Y/N,” his hands were clasping my shoulders as if begging me to believe him, “your father waited for the last day of summer your first year to claim you. Why? Just to mess with you? Because he just couldn’t be bothered to do it until he remembered at the last second? That’s messed up. The gods aren’t fit to rule. The West is going to hades. My quest? To repeat Heracles’ quest? All the gods know how to do is repeat the past. Their glory days.”

“Luke, you’re scaring me.” I was practically begging him to stop talking so we could go back to the way it was. This was the first year I’d be staying year round. We were supposed to be celebrating Christmas together for the first time in a few months. Yet here he was, spouting off heresy.

“Open your eyes,” he insisted. “The gods are poisoning the world and they’ve been using us as pawns to do it. The only way to fix it is to destroy it and start over with something more honest.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been having dreams sent by the Titan Lord.”

A shiver ran down my spine and I stepped out of his grasp. “No,” I heard myself whisper. “Luke, he’s using you. You remember what Chiron taught us. We are not better off, no one was better off when the Titans ruled. We didn’t even have fire. He will kill all the humans. He’ll kill us.”

“Not if we join him willingly,” Luke promised, trying to take my hand again but I pulled away. “He said when I bring down the gods he’ll reward me. He’ll make me immortal. He promised you’d become like me too.” He quickly grasped my wrist tight enough so I couldn’t escape, pulling me closer. “We can rule together, forever.” He was pleading with me to take his offer, his hands finding a stray lock of hair to tuck behind my ear.

“Luke… this isn’t- you can’t…” I was at a loss for words.

“Please, Y/N,” his voice was cracking.

“I can’t. I’m sorry. This isn’t right. This is dangerous, can’t you see that?”

“This isn’t me just trying to get back at my dad. I’ve thought about this.” He stiffened, still tightly grasping my wrist. “Y/N, I need you with me.”

“Then don’t go,” I begged him. “I won’t even tell anyone. We can just go back to how things were.”

“No, we can’t,” he shook his head. “Because you’re gonna try to help me by telling Chiron and he’s gonna turn me in.”

“No he won’t! Luke, he trained you. He’ll want to help you.”

“Camp isn’t safe for us anymore. We have to go.”

This was the first time I actually started fearing for my safety. I tried to pull out of his grasp but he held firm. “Go where?”

“Our Titan Lord got us a ship. We’ll be safe there until I get my next orders. The monsters on it won’t harm us.”

“What?!” With a hard wrench I pulled my wrist out of his grasp. I immediately started running, hoping a nymph would find me before a monster did but Luke was on me in seconds. He knocked me to the ground and after a little struggling he had me pinned. “Luke, please don’t do this,” I begged as I saw him reach into his pocket. When I saw the milk of the poppy I began to thrash underneath him but I couldn’t manage to throw him off of me. He forced my mouth open, dropping the liquid onto my tongue and forcing me to swallow. Before I blacked out, I could vaguely hear him speak.

“You’ll be okay in a few days and then we can talk.” A few days???

~~

The next morning Luke was woken by frantic cries of his girlfriend’s name heard throughout camp. He immediately rushed out of bed, putting on a concerned boyfriend facade. Finding one of his brothers, he asked what was going on. “What? Did you just wake up?” Luke nodded frantically. “Oh, I’m sorry man. Uh, Y/N wasn’t in bed this morning. No one can find her. One of her little brothers said you asked to talk to her last night.”

“Yeah to talk about potentially allying for capture the flag but she went right back in,” he insisted frantically. He ran a hand through his hair, acting stressed. He kind of whished he’d be gone by now but he needed to get rid of Percy before he could go.

He ran out of the cabin, immediately going up to Cabin 5. Clarisse spotted him, her expression becoming sour. “What’d you do Castellan? Aiden said you wanted to talk to her last night.”

“Yeah, we were talking about capture the flag but she went right back in 10 minutes later. You sleep 20 feet from her, where’s my girlfriend?” he challenged. Clarisse sent him a scowl but otherwise stormed off, the other Cabin 5 campers following her with similar expressions.

“Luke, I'm so sorry,” a young voice called. He turned, finding Annabeth running towards him. As she hugged him, Luke couldn’t help but think about how much he’d miss her. She was too smart for her own good but he still couldn’t help but think of the seven year old he had found hiding from monsters. “She could just be out somewhere?” she offered, trying to console him.

“I hope so,” he smiled down at her. He then spotted Mr. D and ran over to him. “Mr. D, can you find where she is?”

The god gave him a tired expression. “I’m not omniscient in this state. All I know is she’s not in camp.”

“Well can’t you get a god who is? Surely her father wants to know where she is,” he insisted. But Ares had plenty of demigod children and most of them went missing in action or died tragic deaths. Y/N would be just another hero child that fought in his name.

“Lord Ares has other concerns,” Mr. D at least tried to soften the blow. “If she hasn’t returned by the end of the summer then we must assume she is dead. Even if she left of her own volition.”

“But summer is ends tomorrow. You can’t do this. She could still be out there. She could need our help. Let me go out and search,” he pleaded. By now, Chiron, Clarisse, and a few others had joined them.

“No one is leaving,” Chiron declared. “I’m not letting anyone else go missing. Luke, I understand your concern but her blade was found in Cabin 5. If she’s not in camp she is likely already dead.”

“No,” Luke insisted, putting on the performance of a lifetime, “you’re wrong.”

After nearly two whole days of searching camp and the closest borders, (that was the furthest Chiron would let anyone go) Y/N L/N was declared dead. Her siblings reluctantly built a funeral pyre, decorating it with some of her things. Luke did his best to look devastated and it seemed to be working because no one looked at him twice other than to offer their sympathies. That at least made it easy to lure Percy off into the woods just before he left.

~~

When I woke up I was in a strange room. It looked like a hotel room except for the fact that the floor to ceiling windows showed that I was on the ocean. That triggered all the memories of Luke. A sense of hopelessness came over me and I was immediately breaking down in sobs. I didn’t want to believe that he had joined Kronos and turned his back on everything he knew or that he was determined to drag me with him.

Once I finally managed to compose myself I went to the door, hoping to find a radio so someone could get me. Or maybe even find Luke so I could talk him into letting me go. But once I opened the door I was met with the massive jaws of a hellhound. I immediately shut the door and locked it.

Still feeling unsafe I went to grab the dresser to block the door but either it was too heavy or bolted down. I tried the desk next resulting in nothing. I was running out of time as the monster was probably just trying to process what it saw. Soon it’d smell me and start trying to break down the door. So I resorted to the chair, dragging it across the floor and jamming it under the door handle. I then went to the massive windows, realizing there was a hidden door. I wrenched it open, stepping out into the fresh air. I looked around, seeing no land I’d be able to swim to. But just as I was considering my chances, I noticed the body of a massive whale-like creature. I was willing to bet that whales weren’t just swimming around a cruise ship, this was a cetus.

Seeing as I had nowhere else to go, I went back into the room. I went to the attached bathroom, searching for something to defend myself. There wasn’t really anything in there except bar soap and toilet paper. Luke must have removed everything, even the towels, so I couldn’t hurt him or anyone else. Frustrated, I went to the closet, finding it completely empty. Not even a hangar to pull apart and stab someone with. So I reluctantly grabbed the soap seeing as it was literally the only thing remotely resembling a weapon, and sat on the bed, watching the door.

I don’t know how long I sat there but eventually I heard the door shake, like something was trying to get in. As I was preparing to clobber the monster with my bar of soap, a voice I recognized called through the door. “C’mon, Y/N! Open the door,” Luke said. I didn’t dare move. I didn’t want to see him. “Open the door or I break it down!” he demanded.

It was either open the door or have absolutely no protection from the monsters so I reluctantly got up. “Okay, okay!” I answered. “Just give me a second.” I climbed off the bed, removing the chair. I only twisted the handle, letting the door open slightly before going back to the bed to put some distance between us.

As Luke was locking the door again, I took my chance. Jumping, I tried to bring the bar of soap down on him but he turned, grabbing my wrist. “Come on, you had to have known that wouldn’t work,” he smiled.

I only gave him a burning stare. “It was worth a shot,” I said, trying to pull my hand away. But his grip held fast, not letting me pull away.

“So I guess you still hate me?”

“Yeah,” I answered. “You kidnapped me and are now holding me hostage on a monster infested ship.”

“You’ll understand soon enough,” he dismissed, once again brushing a piece of hair behind my ear. “Then we’ll be together forever.”

Masterlist

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #pjo x reader #the lightning thief #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #ares #daughter of ares #x reader

[sanakimohara]

“Stalker” B.C.

{ MDNI }

+++++

Chan as a stalker would be painfully toxic. The constant messages you’d receive from him, vague, but highly personal. He wouldn’t threaten you at all…at first.

It starts off with little random reminders or sending a few innocent pictures of you doing random tasks throughout the day.

“You look so cute when you’re cleaning, baby…”

“You should really eat something today, sweetheart…”

“Don’t stay up too late like last time little one…need you well rested okay?…”

Then he progresses to intricate gestures. It’s not hard to get to you since you’re a trainee under JYPE and coincidentally share the same dorm building as Stray Kids. Chan has easy access to the areas you occupy most often.

Even your dorm, specifically your bedroom.

Of course you don’t know this so when random pieces of your clothing start to disappear and reappear at odd times you just chalk it up to your forgetfulness. In reality Chan slips into your room when no one’s around, admiring how neat or messy you keep it, and committing to memory all the little trinkets/games/decor that you personalized it with. He likes the fact that your room reflects who you are, it brings out your purity in his opinion, and if he could lock you in it he would.

Deep down he liked the idea of locking you in his room much better. Then you’d be even safer under his constant watch. For now he settled with invading your private spaces, slipping your panties into his pocket as he wanders around, picking up the little messes around your room. When he’s all done and satisfied with the amount of possessions he’s taken from you he writes a note to you before leaving and continuing on with his day like nothing happened.

“Keep your room clean, sweetheart.”

You’re shaking with fear and anxiety reading his note but seeing as you don’t have a clue who wrote it you keep the information to yourself. It bothers you all week but weirdly you’re loving the anonymous attention. Blushing at random times of the day just from the thought of who might’ve written that note for you. It’s still terrifying but you admire their devotion…

Chan observes you from an afar after that, continuing to sneak in your room when he has the chance, and leaving less than innocent notes on your desk more often.

“You did well practicing. I was impressed, really,”

“I left you a little gift for working hard, baby. Open it when you’re ready..”

You spot his gift at the foot of your bed, all the random clothes (mostly underwear) he’s taken from you are neatly washed and folded too. It disgusts you to see your intimates causally laid out -and probably used for other purposes- like a present. At the same time your mind is reeling with the image of your ‘admirer’ getting off to the simple scent of you or the thought of you wearing them.

You’ve never felt so beautifully violated in your life and you hate how wet it gets you.

Something has to be wrong with you…

Paranoid. You become extremely paranoid and Chan uses that against you. You’re such a young trainee, being tortured by some skillful stalker, and he’s the first person you open up to about it. How can he not help you cope?

Everytime you come running to him about the last occurrence with your supposed stalker Chan is ready to console you with a warm smile and loving embrace. Sure, he’s extremely turned on by the fear in your wide eyes, and his cock twitches every time you curl into him for a comforting hug. He’s just there to help you through this mess, right?

“Why would anyone want to treat you this way?..”

“I’ll protect you I promise… “

“You can always come to me when you don’t feel safe..”

Every word he says is a backhanded lie and you fall for it every time. You spend less time in your dorm and more time with him. The other trainees and his members notice but don’t say a word since Chan never makes it a big deal. That isn’t to say he doesn’t purposefully act unnerved by the notion of a stalker with in the company.

His habit of texting you escalates into sending obscure photos of you in the shower, alone in the practice rooms, or simply getting changed. He’s gotten comfortable with his obsession now, actively seeking out chances for vulnerability, and that raises your fears and fantasies higher.

“Want to see you do this in person…”

“I can’t help but to watch you , baby… I’m just making sure you’re safe…”

Safe….and unknowingly reliant on him.

A perfect combination of control and fear.

“I know everything about you, little one. You can never hide from me…”

+++++

#bang chan #bang chris #skz #skz smut #stray kids #bang chan smut #skz x reader #chan skz #skz imagines #stray kids x reader

[tasteleeknow]

[ 11:05 ] “You know he loves you, don’t you?” Chan questions as he hands you his car keys. You fiddle with the soft toy that hangs between the keys, tugging at the small wolf’s ears. 

Chan sighs. “Fine,” he says. “Just go.” 

You take a step towards the door before hesitating, lifting your eyes to meet his. You’d have to trust he’d keep this conversation to himself. You could feel it already, the anxiety that would bubble up to your throat the second you left the apartment with this conversation unresolved.

Minho was leaving. He was moving out—across the country—and he hadn’t said a word to you about it. Sure, you didn’t live here. But you may as well have. You spent so much time and the apartment he shared with Chan they’d often joke about when you were going to start splitting the bills. 

“What if he changes his mind?” you ask, managing to keep your voice steady. “If I do something… change how it is now… what if he changes his mind?” 

“Why would he do that?” 

“Because he’ll know me. He’ll get closer and maybe he won’t like what he finds.” 

Chan takes the keys from your hands, halting your fiddling. “Sit down,” he instructs gently, gesturing to the small lounge you’d taken to falling asleep on some nights. You do as he says, folding your hands in your lap as you wait for him to join you. 

He doesn’t. 

You watch as he disappears down the short hallway and into Minho’s bedroom, returning only moments later with a small shoebox in his hand. He doesn’t drag it out. He sits on the small table in front of you and opens the lid. 

It reminded you a lot of the small box you kept under your bed in your childhood bedroom, a collection of miscellaneous things you’d attached memories to as you’d grown. A bracelet from your 11th birthday, a playing card you’d scooped out of the water on your trip to Vietnam, the paper mache rabbit you’d made when you were 8, the key to the padlock you’d used for your locker in high school.

This box was much like that. You don’t recognise anything at first, not until Chan digs out a small clay cat, one of your earliest attempts at moulding clay figures. It was an ugly thing, wonky and misshapen. Minho had snatched it from your hands when you’d announced it was going in the rubbish. “He can’t help being ugly,” he’d said. “He’s mine now.” 

Chan passes the clay cat to you. He’s cuter than you’d remembered.

“They’re all from you," he says. 

You look up. “Hm?” 

“The box,” he clarifies. “They’re all things you’ve given him.” 

You peak into the box, attempting to spot anything else you recognise. There are scattered pieces of paper, some are sticky notes you vaguely remember attaching to his bedroom door on days you’d visited when he wasn’t home. You pick one up and read it silently, ‘You missed me. Unlucky for you. I’ll be around Friday.’ You’d drawn a small rabbit in the corner. 

Chan takes the note from you along with the clay cat. You watch as he places them back inside the shoebox and replaces the lid. “I shouldn’t let you go through it—not without his permission. I just need you to understand.” He places the box on the table beside him carefully, like it’s full of priceless porcelain. “You know him,” he continues. “He doesn’t make decisions lightly. He knows what he wants and when he wants something… that’s it. You’re it.” He sighs. “You know him.” 

You look to his discarded car keys. “You still need milk.” 

“I’ll get it. You’ll stay?” 

You nod. “I’ll stay.” 

—

He leaves shortly after that. Leaves you to pace as you wait for Minho to arrive. He was leaving. Leaving Chan. Leaving you. He hadn’t offered an explanation. 

You jump as he knocks on the door. He expected Chan to be home. He wasn't expecting you. You press your hand to your chest and take one last deep breath before marching over and letting him in. 

His eyes widen a little as he takes you in. You hadn’t seen him in two weeks now. It was the longest you’d gone without seeing each other since you’d met three years prior. You step aside to let him in, pressing your fingers into your clavicle in an attempt to ground yourself. 

“I didn’t know you were coming around,” he says as he takes his shoes off. “Chan didn’t—” 

“He left,” you interrupt. “Chan. He went out because he wanted—I wanted to talk to you.�� 

He stands and shucks his winter jacket from his shoulders. “Talk to me?” he questions. 

You nod. “Would you… sit? Please?” 

He looks a little nervous now. You wonder if he can see the same emotion in you. He sits exactly where you’d been sitting when Chan had shown you the box. He leaves his beanie on and you take in the way his brown hair peeks out around his neck. He waits. 

You can’t find it within yourself to sit, choosing to stand across from him instead—leaving the small table between you. “Can I ask you something?” 

He nods and his tongue flicks out to wet his lips. “Mm,” he says. “Anything.” 

“It’s a big ‘something’.”

“Okay,” he says simply. 

“Would you stay?” you ask, tugging on your fingers. Your heart thumps in your chest. “If I asked you to stay, would you?” 

His brow furrows slightly. “I—” 

“Because I need you to stay. Please. I need you not to leave me. I know it’s a lot and I don’t know why you’re leaving and I’m sure it’s very important and I don’t even know if you want to stay here. Maybe you don’t but—” 

“Wait,” he says, interrupting your rambling. You take a steadying breath as he stands. He tugs his beanie from his head and drops it onto the table. His hair stands on all ends. You desperately want to run your hands through it. But you can’t. Your knuckle pops as you tug a little hard on one of your fingers. “Leaving?” he questions, clearly confused. Alarm bells ring in your head. “Why would I leave?”

“Chan said—” you cut yourself off. Oh you were going to wrap your hands around his throat and squeeze so hard he– “You’re not leaving?”

“No. But you thought I was…you said you need me to stay...” Minho says with a smirk, making his way around the table slowly. 

“Forget everything I just said.” 

“Can’t,” he says, his smirk transforming into a small grin. “Sorry.” 

You could tell him you’d seen the box, a small voice in your head offers. Then you’d both be embarrassed. You snuff it out before it can fully form. If it was anyone else… But it was him. You’d take much worse than one-sided embarrassment for him. 

“Alright. Well, Chan had his fun. I’m going home.” 

Minho steps in front of you, cutting off your exit. “Stay,” he says simply. 

“Why?” 

“Because I want you to.” 

“Why?” 

He huffs out a breathy laugh. “Because I haven’t seen you in two weeks. Why is that, by the way? Chan said—” 

“Chan says a lot of things, apparently."

Minho collapses into the couch cushions beside you and throws his arm over the back of the lounge. You join him. “He said you were busy,” Minho says. “That you didn’t have time for us.” 

“I was… sulking.” 

He presses his lips together, failing to suppress a smile. “Sulking?” 

“I thought you were moving out. Chan wouldn’t tell me why he said you’d talk to me when you wanted to. But you didn’t. I thought you were leaving without even talking to me about it.” 

The hand over the back of the couch moves a little, then he begins playing with your hair—gentle fingers fiddling with the strands that fall over your shoulder. “I think it’s my fault,” he says as you struggle to regulate your breathing. “I said something to him a few weeks ago. Something that may have… caused this. I’ll fix it.” 

His fiddling with your hair breaks a barrier, one that allows you to lean a little towards him and fix the strands of hair that stick on all ends. He’s quiet at first, letting you brush his hair out with your fingers. Then, just as you begin working on a particularly stubborn tuft right at his parting, he speaks, “I would never leave you,” he says. It’s almost a whisper. Gentle and quiet, almost like he hadn’t meant to speak it at all. 

“You wouldn’t?”

He takes your arm, stubborn tuft forgotten. “I thought you knew that. I thought you knew that I…” he trails off as his eyes drop to where his fingers wrap around your wrist. 

“Minho?” you whisper. He looks up. “I do. I know.” 

He blinks, a brief moment of panic crossing his features as his fingers tighten on your wrist. 

“I love you, too,” you add quickly, keen to end his anxiety. “So much.” 

He blinks. Once, twice. Then he drops his head, letting his hair fall over his eyes. He takes a deep breath and you watch as he lifts your wrist to his lips. You can’t see the way he presses a kiss to your skin, his long hair obscuring your view. But you feel it. You feel his warm breath as he holds you there for a moment afterwards. 

Then he lifts his head. 

You catch a blur of his smile as he lunges at you, pushing you onto your back as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. He keeps the majority of his weight off you and you bask in the warmth of him for the minute of two he stays like this. Then he’s sitting up again, tugging you up with him and practically lifting you into his lap. You wrap your arms around him, settling yourself comfortably against him as he releases a contented sigh. 

“Did Chan tell you?” he mumbles as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. 

“I knew before that.” 

He groans, dropping his head back. You can see the tiny mole at his jawline: a target. You press a gentle kiss there. “I knew you loved me,” you whisper. “You’re so good at it.. so full of love. But I—I think I was afraid you’d stop, like when you see a stray cat and you’re afraid if you move it’ll startle…that it’ll leave and you’ll never get to try again. Having you as a friend is better than not having you at all.” 

He lifts his head to look at you. You can see the way he’s fighting it, all the emotion. He doesn’t express it with words, but he doesn’t need to. It leaks from his eyes and from his gentle touches. “I don’t startle,” he grumbles after a moment. 

You grin. “‘M’kay, whatever you say,” you whisper before pressing your lips to his for the first time. 

#lee know fluff #lee know x reader #lee know fanfic #stray kids fluff #kpop imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #kpop scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz scenarios #minho drabbles

[strawberrystepmom]

happy gojo fluff friday i guess. gojo x f!reader. established relationship, self indulgent crafting fluff, reader is teaches the second years. | divider by cafekitsune, wc 1.4k, reading time 5 mins 17 seconds

“I used to make these all the time, remember?”

Sitting with your legs tucked beneath you in your living room, you hold up a bundle of braided twine bracelets, a rainbow of colors with assorted charms attached to them. Little plastic seashells on the blue one, flowers dotting the green one.

Satoru remembers, he still has the one you made him in your first year. It feels like a lifetime ago that six teenagers had vaguely matching mementos they wore showing their unity as a group, yourself and your fellow first years Nanami and Haibara and of course himself and his friends. 

“Blue seems cliche,” you opined at the time with a raised brow, a pink cheeked seventeen year old Gojo staring back at you anxiously. His crush had bloomed by then although you pretended to be oblivious to it. “How about pink instead?”

He has never been able to tell you no so he nodded, keeping his mouth screwed shut while you worked. Pink he received, so bright it almost hurt his eyes to wear it back then. You attached a little smiley face charm right in the middle, affixing it around his wrist. He wore it every day until it began to unravel, safely kept in a small lockbox in the back of his closet.

The same box that contains most of the memories you’ve given him, the photos, the cards, the trinkets, and the ones the two of you have yet to make including that pesky engagement ring he can never seem to figure out the right time to give you.

“I might take it to school with me tomorrow just to see what the kids think.”

Two big hands make their way to your bent thighs and you smile, still digging through the box in your lap. Beads, closures, all the stuff you used to pride yourself on keeping tidy and neat. You glance up at him, that same smile on your face.

“Let me make you a new one since I have all this stuff out.”

You dig through the box for a minute more, squinting and making a show of exaggeratedly humming. Leaning in toward him, you hold colored embroidery floss up to his face to compare it to the shades of his eyes, the unforgettable feature that they are. One bundle of floss is too green, the other is too yellow. 

“What do you think the kids will say?” He asks, watching each of your movements raptly. Your tongue pokes out of the corner of your mouth when you concentrate, an adorable habit you’ve maintained in all of the years he’s known you, and you sit back on your haunches for a moment, hands on your thighs. 

Yet another adorable habit.  

He reaches to grab your arm, gently rubbing his thumb along the inside of it. You smile at the touch and ponder what your students will truly think if you bring this to them. It’s a bit of a dated hobby compared to the luxury of choice teenagers have now and you laugh to yourself, shaking your head.

“Well, Maki will probably say you’re rubbing off on me since I don’t bother to teach anymore and call it stupid to my face.” Satoru chuckles, watching through his lashes while you spring back into action, reaching behind you to grab a few more bundles of blue. “Inumaki will probably spell something inappropriate in English if I bring the letter beads. Panda will ask me to make each of them a matching bracelet because he’s sweet and will request that I make one for Yuuta to have when he gets back, too.”

Looking at the latest bounty recovered from the little tackle box that stores the trinkets required for this, you gasp. Cerulean with a deep blue sparkle woven through the strands. 

I’ll save this for something special some day, you told yourself more than a decade ago, spending your student stipend in some fancy embroidery shop in Nippori. Yen exchanged for fancy thread, dotted with glitter or metallic coating. You had no idea. Maybe you even bought it back then hoping a day where you’d be able to compare it to Satoru’s eyes would arrive, subconsciously laying the tracks for your own future.

“It’s a perfect match.”

The grin on your face is mirrored by your love who reaches around your body to grab from the twine selection himself. A handful of colors that match your eyes sit across his large palm and he glances down at the collection, mimicking your previous attempts to find something that screamed “him”.

“What are you doing?” The question is a half joke but you let him hum to himself, raising one bundle and then another to compare them. “Well, I didn’t make you one back then because I thought I was too cool,” he blinks at you, making you giggle. “I was right, of course, but there’s no time like the present, right?”

Nodding your agreement, you remove the paper from around the twine and shake it out. You’ll need some coordinating colors so you dig back through the bundles in front of you, sticking them against his face again. 

“I still have the one you made me, by the way.”

Scoffing, you roll your eyes and use your index finger to poke around in the bead compartment, searching for the perfect one for your newest creation.

“Don’t lie, I can always tell.” Satoru grabs your hand delicately although your fingers are still holding various crafting supplies and raises it to his lips, gently kissing your wrist. You are very attentive to the little things about him and likely noticed when he finally stopped wearing it, several years after it was first made. “I’m not lying. I had to stop wearing it because it was unweaving and I didn’t want to lose it forever.”

You feel guilty for the accusation and lean in toward him, kissing the tip of his nose, claiming your hand back from his grasp to begin braiding twine together into a pattern.

“I can always re-make it if you’d rather have a pink one,” you offer, braiding together various shades of blue in your lap without looking down. “I can wear this one.”

Smiling softly, he looks at you, then the bundle of your eye colored twine in his own hand.

“You wear the blue one and I’ll make one that matches you to wear myself, how about that?”

Nodding, you let the conversation fall quiet while he unbundles his own selections, fingers deftly separating and joining three strands, just the way you tried to teach him years ago when you assumed he didn’t care. He has always paid far more attention to you than you’ve realized and you’ve given him a lot to study over the last ten or so years.

“I think you should leave this at home,” he admits. It’s selfish but he doesn’t want to see you share this precious memory with your students who may not even appreciate it. He wants to sit cross legged on the living floor with you, making little friendship bracelets that will eventually unravel or fade or snap, for the rest of his life. He wants to make them for your children someday, matching bracelets with mom and dad. He wants to keep this, to keep you, all to himself.

“Okay. It’s probably for the best anyway, I don’t need to give them one more thing to give me shit about.”

Satoru leans toward you and kisses your forehead right as you’re finishing the blue bracelet. He looks down, tying and knotting it around your wrist, remembering when you did the same for him so long ago. 

“Looks good.” His words catch your eye and you smile up at him, looking between his eyes and the bracelet wrapped around your wrist. It is an uncanny match and you’re proud of your own eye for color though your pride is stopped in its tracks when he sticks out his wrist, bracelet pinched between two of his fingers and dangling from his hand. “Would you mind?”

You do as he did for you, as you’ve done for him before, with softness in your eyes it would be impossible to hide. 

“Not bad,” you compliment and he shrugs with a chuckle. “Obviously. I even think mine is the better of the two.”

Letting your hand rest in his lap, next to his, the hastily made bracelets sit one next to the other on each of your bodies. His eyes follow yours and he weaves your fingers together, thumb gently rubbing the thickest part of your palm.

It’ll always be the two of you, a perfectly matched set, no matter what.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #kendall writes #satoken

[angstywaifu]

I Think I Deserve A Kiss - Xaden Riorson x Reader

Happy Valentines Day for all my fellow Australians and future people! Have some cute Xaden Riorson fluff with the prompt "I think I deserve a kiss."

It felt like anything that could have gone wrong today, did go wrong. I had woken up late due to being out late on a supply run that didn’t go exactly to plan. Because of that I’d missed breakfast and barely made it to my first class on time. Xaden and Garrick had someone managed to get up on time and be there. Both raising eyebrows at me as I ran in while shoving my arms into my jacket.

During flight training a squad mate hadn’t been paying attention and dove straight down into my dragon and I causing me to come off. Luckily my dragon had been quick to right themselves and catch me before it was too late. Then at challenges another fight interrupted ours, and due to it I’d lost track of my opponent and gotten jumped. And then everything had gone black.

The throbbing in my head was almost unbearable as I woke from whatever slumber I was in. No not a slumber. I didn’t feel rested and no way would I have been able to sleep with all this pain. I open my eyes and squint as I’m blinded by the light above me. I go to sit up, but two very strong hands push me back down. I vaguely hear them talking to me, but there’s still a ringing in my ears. That’s right. I’d been in challenges.

My eyes finally adjust and I see I’m in the healers quadrant, a mage light right above my bed. The curtains are drawn around my bed, giving me some privacy from the rest of the room. A hand firmly grasps mine, a thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of my hand. I look over to see Xaden sitting next to my bed. I must stare at him confused as he raises his eye brow at me.

”You ok?” He asks, his voice sounds rough. Almost as if he had been yelling.

”No, but..” I pause as I’m unsure what to say. The emotion I see on his face isn’t one I’ve seen before.

”But what?” He asks sternly as he raises one of his eye brows at me.

”You look worried and you never look worried?” I tell him.

I feel his body stiffen at my words. Clearly he had been trying to hide his worry from me. But I’d seen right through him as his onyx eyes had betrayed the hidden emotion. Xaden wasn’t emotionless by any means. But he usually did a very good job at hiding them. Choosing to save them for behind closed doors or around those he trusted. I guess behind the drawn curtains he kind of was.

”You would be to if you saw what I saw.” He stands and walks to the end of my bed, running his hands through his hair.

“What do you mean?” I ask worried.

What had happened? It was just a challenge. We did them all the time. We got hurt all the time. But the pulsing pain in my head told me that this time was probably one of the more extreme outcomes of challenges. In my three years in the quadrant I’d been lucky enough to avoid any major injuries. Till now it seems.

Xaden barely turns to me as he motions to a mirror sitting on the table next to me. I grab it and hold it up to my face. I gasp and almost drop the mirror. It was clear my injuries had been mended as much as they could. But the stitches on my cheek and lip, and the bruise around my right eye and peaking through the collar of my shirt told me I had received a decent beating when they’d gotten the jump on me.

“I should have been watching. But I was too caught up on making sure that damn Sorrengail girl didn’t get killed. And next thing I know there’s screaming across the other side of the gym as that asshole beats you to within an inch of your life.” I can see Xaden’s shoulder visibly shake as he recalls the memory.

It’s then I notice Xaden is not in his training gear. He’s in his normal uniform. As he turns I notice the slight hint of shadows forming under his eyes.

”How long have I been unconscious for?” I ask hesitantly.

“Three. Days.” Xaden practically spits out angrily.

Even though the anger is not directed at me, I still flinch at the tone in his voice. Three days I had been out for. I shudder as I look at my reflection in the mirror. If I had been out for that long my injuries must have been way worse than what I am seeing now. The curtain to my bed is moved to the side revealing the only mender in the healers quadrant. I don’t recall his name as I haven’t had much to do with him. As he approaches me Xaden walks out leaving me alone with him. With how angry he seemed to be I don’t blame him for leaving, but I can’t help but feel a bit sad at him leaving me alone. I sit in silence as the mender tends to my injuries again. Due to me being awake he is able to heal a bit more, and luckily he is able to take away the throbbing headache I had woken up with. With instructions to come back again in a few days and a tub of healing balm I am allowed to go back to the riders quadrant. As I walk through the big doors that lead back to the riders quadrant I find Xaden leaning against the wall waiting for me.

He reaches out and pulls me into his side, before placing his hand on the small of my back as he leads me back to my room. Classes must still be on with how empty the corridors are. We don’t bump into a single person on the way back. I don’t dare try to break the silence as I know it’s better to leave Xaden be when he is in one of these moods. He opens my door and ushers me in, before guiding me over to my bed and sitting me down. He squats down in front of me and places his hands on my knees as he looks at me.

”You should get some rest. I’ll come back and grab you for dinner ok?” He tells me quietly. His voice is void of any emotion. His default when he’s trying to stay calm when he is anything but calm.

I do my best to ignore the twinge of pain in my heart as I nod my head. He softly smiles at me and nods slightly. He stands and kisses the top of my head before quickly leaving my room. As he closes the door I let you the breath I didn’t realise I had been holding in. Xaden is right, I do need to sleep. After being mended I felt exhausted. And even though I had been out for three days, I felt like I’d been awake for three days instead. I place the healing balm I still clutched in my hands on the bedside table before changing into some more comfy clothes and climbing into bed, sleep consuming me almost immediately as my head hits the pillow.

I don’t know how much time has passed, but I feel the bed dip slightly beside me. I open my eyes to see I’ve rolled towards the wall. But I can tell immediately it is a lot later. My room is now dark, bar the soft flicker of a flame. Strange. My mage light is usually much brighter than this. I feel the bed shift next to me again and I look over my shoudler to see Xaden sitting next to me, his face illuminated but a soft flickering light. He seems to be a lot calmer as he smiles softly at me. I roll over fully and my breath catches in my throat.

Multiple candles have been lit and placed around my room, explaining the soft flickering light in the room. On the table, Xaden has laid out food he must have gathered from the dining hall. I’ve clearly missed dinner with how dark it is outside. Next to the dinner he has brought, which is also enough for the two of us, is two big slices of chocolate cake.

I look over at Xaden who is smiling at me, his shoulders shaking slightly with a silent laugh as he looks at my shocked face.

”What is this?” I ask him.

”Well I came to get you for dinner and I couldn’t wake you up while you looked so peaceful. So i brought dinner to you.” He tells me softly. The way his brows furrow tells me he is doing his best to think about his works.

I nod my head slowly. “But why all the candles?”

”Well, I’d actually planned to ask you something, but what happened kind of put a dampener on my plans.” He admits as he looks down at the floor.

”What plans?” I’d asked confused.

I tried to rack my brain for what he could mean. What on earth could he have wanted to ask me the other day?

”I was-” He pauses, his eye brows furrowing again. “I was going, to ask you. To be my valentine.” He finally gets out.

I freeze in shock as he looks up at me. He looks scared. But it quickly changes as he tries to hold back his laughter. Obviously the look on my face is quite amusing for him.

”Left you speechless have I? Thats a first.” He teases, easily grabbing my hand as I go to playfully hit him. “That’s not very nice.”

”It’s what you deserve for teasing me.” I sassily say back.

My breath hitches as he leans in close, our noses barely touching. He’s so close I can see the golden flecks in his onyx eyes, I can feel every breath he takes. He obviously hears it as he chuckles softly.

”I think I deserve a kiss.” He says, the corner of his mouth tilting up in a smirk.

I go to playfully hit him with my other hand. Yet again he easily grabs it as if he knows what I had planned and uses the momentum to pull me closer and into a kiss. His arms snake around my waist, pulling me into his lap, my legs sitting either side of his as I straddle him. The dinner and cake quickly forgotten.

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #the empyrean #xaden riorson #the fourth wing #xaden riorson x reader #xaden x reader

[yandere-wishes]

✾Sweet Like Morning-Glory ✾

💚Summary: There's a melody humming within your bones. A tune Baizhu strums with his needles and drugs. The ballade sings of a love more deadly than any toxin. 

💚Author's note: Requested by my darling @fangirl-katwithclaws hope you enjoy it, Love!!~ 💜

💚Warnings: drugging, intoxicants, narcotics, reader is dazed.  

You wake up wrong. Half dead and half alive with none of the glory. 

You feel broken, cleaved as if someone dissembled you and then tried to re-assemble you in a hurry. Erroneously forging pieces that do not fit. There's a thumping in your head and in your right arm. A reminder of a memory long since forgotten. 

There's a squeaking noise, the door sliding heavily against the wooden floorboards. It's too loud. Actually, now that you think about it, everything feels too loud. The birds, the crickets, the mysterious tune that haunts the Liyue streets. Everything feels like lost notes ambushing your lagging encephalon.

You turn your head to the source of the noise, watch as the door opens ever so agonizingly slow. There's green and gold and a flash of white that enters the room. Him. The only thing that stands out in a sea of blurry colors too vivid to process. Him. The one who's always at the forefront of your brain no matter how sluggish you feel. 

Baizhu sits on the edge of your shared bed, his easy smile ever present on his pale face. He leaves the tray of food on your lap and raises both hands to cup your cheeks, pressing a soft kiss on your cracked lips. 

There's something wrong with the way Baizhu tastes. His kisses are bitter. All molten violetgrass and qingxin flowers. It's like the toxins from his soul are seeping into you, it takes unprecedented self-control you didn't know you possessed to remain still within his grasp. He mutters something against your lips, something lighthearted and sweet. Like the first fresh breeze of spring. Only it's fall now or is it winter? Everything is getting so hard to recall. 

To all of Liyue, you are known as Baizhu's sick bride. The one with limbs stiffer than her stepdaughter's and a foggy memory to boot. In actuality, you do not know how you gained such a title. Your memories tend to be nothing more than faint echos and ebony slates of confusion. You can't even properly recall how you met Baizhu, let alone how you married him. All you remember is a phrase, the first I love you Baizhu said. Albit with diffrent words and a much diffrent phrasing. 

"My what lovely veins you have."

If thoughts would be permitted to linger in your mind for longer than mere seconds, then maybe, just maybe that phrase would have seemed off to you. Something all so wrong about finding beauty under one's skin. But your thoughts are never consistent enough to draw such intricate conclusions. Instead, you nuzzle into Baizhu's touch, trying to ground yourself. Baizhu plucks something small of the breakfast tray and pops it into his mouth. He waits a heartbeat before kissing you again. Slipping something round into your mouth. 

You can almost feel your pulse fade. 

It's warm in Bubu pharmacy, too warm. You feel like your skin is melting off your bones. "it's too warm" you mumble, eyes unfocused staring at the front entrance of the pharmacy. Your mind is spinning, out of control like a crashing bird. 

You lean back against your husband, resting your head on his shoulder. 

Baizhu's hand finds its way to your head, entwining his fingers into your hair. You permit a heavy whine to escape your throat, a dry muffled noise that briefly catches the attention of some of the patrons. "Baizhu, please" you mutter, desperate to leave the lively room. 

Sometimes you vaguely recall a time when the presence of others hadn't been so suffocating. When you'd laughed with the people of the harbor and basked in their sweet company. Only when you had met Baizhu had socializing become so taxing. An exhausting affair your sweet lover helped you avoid. At times, in rare bouts of clarity, it almost felt as if Baizhu had planned this. As if he held the blame for your metamorphosis into a hermit. 

And if you were ever conscious enough to care it may have been a problem... 

Qiqi runs in, leaving her basket of fresh herbs on a chair. She runs over to you, lifting her arms. You wrap your arms around her waist and try to pull her up. She's getting heavier you note, albeit you're sure you are, in fact, the one getting weaker. 

"Qiqi, darling. Maybe it's best you take Mommy to her room. I'll join you shortly once Gui arrives." 

Qiqi nods and reaches to hold your hand. Walking idly by you, hand in hand, as you escape the suffocating room. 

You wonder if Qiqi appreciates your lethargy. Lolls in knowing there is another like her. Someone stiff and sick and with a mind too slow to process nothing more than idle commands. 

There's mold festering inside her. A rigor mortis she can not beat. Her body betrays her at every step. Yet ultimately she is the true traitor, the one who didn't honor her body's dying wish. You wonder if Qiqi even fully comprehends what being a zombie entails. You wonder if you wholly understand it yourself. 

Maybe you had died a long time ago too, maybe Baizhu had found a way to resurrect you. That would account for the constant stiffness and memory lapses. It made more sense than this malady he kept going on about. A haunting hollowness dances across the darker corners of your heart. It twirls and pirouettes to the tune of anticipation. Maybe this darkness has always been a wrathful death. Cheated from claiming you for the grave. 

Your room is quiet, a contrast to the morning. The shadows slither across the walls as you wait patiently for Baizhu. You'd sent Qiqi off to her room. Hoping she'd busy herself with doctor dolls she so fancied. Your eyes trained on the door. Mind empty except for rouge thoughts of him. The way his warm hands feel so good against your burning skin. How gentle he is with you as if you'd been made from glass. You love him. You're sure you do. 

Baizhu slips in quietly. Closing the door and shutting out the world. 

He sits next to you on the bed. Hands ghosting over your body. 

It feels like your skin doesn't fit correctly over your bones. 

"You're so beautiful like this". There's a needle between his fingers, held with all the percussion in the world. Beads of vivid green drip from the tip, a sacrifice to perfection. 

If Baizhu could he'd pluck the flesh off your limps just to catch a glimpse of your porcalin white bones. he'd open their shells and kiss the marrow resting within. You remember him detailing that in a loose breath once. How gorgeous you'd be unskinned. How he'd love to kiss every part of you hidden behind your delicate skin. It's something from the past, or something from the future, too hard to fully remember. He does tend to fanaticize out loud all too often.  

Baizhu pulls you closer, taking kisses from your shoulder to the depression of your elbow. There he sucks, prepping the vein. Another dose gentily spills into you and he kisses your lips passionately. 

Your eyes remain open. Taking him in, in his entirety. 

You blame the archons, the green they used for his hair is much too vibrant. The acid-like tone has surely bled into his soul. Filling it with venoms. Venoms he can't help, in turn, leaking into his lover.

You're mind grows dimmer as Baizhue's kisses grow hotter. His voice a fading star as he breathes out your name. 

"My sweet, sweet darling, out like a wilted rose I see."

#baizhu #genshin impact baizhu #baizhu x reader #baizhu x you #yandere baizhu #yandere baizhu x reader #yandere baizhu x you #baizhu headcanons #yandere #yandere x reader #yancore #yandere x you #yandere aesthetic #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #yandere imagines #green aesthetic #genshin impact aesthetic #baizhu aesthetic

[chouxsardine]

Coming back to me---Jake Kiszka x reader

Summary: You miss him terribly, you wish he were here. Unexpectedly, there he is---Jake walking on you masturbating and you spill some more.

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x reader

Word Count: 4082

Warnings: 18+! Minors DNI, female masturbation, unprotected penetrative p in v sex, explicit use of derogatory terms, sexual fantasy, allusion of exhibitionism, implict soft dom!Jake, guitar worship(??) (you can already tell it's a lot and I'm going to hell for this...let me know if I've missed any)

Genre: smut, slight angst with agonizingly sweet fluff, slight hurt/comfort, agonizingly romantic Jake

Author's note: This is my second try on writing smut. I tried to be a lot bolder this time. I want this to be sweet and spicy and damn it is enjoyable and torturing for me to write. What an experience. I intend to dig further into this, so let's consider this as Part 1 of improper guitar use fantasy (more on it's way) I really really hope you enjoy this. If you want a visual for the short film mentioned, （which is also 18+!! you don't need it to enjoy the story but it's a very interesting piece) here's the link to that scene: Amante Menguante (or watch its full version in Talk to Her (2002), 1:1:01-1:1:06); That's all--Dig in :))

🎧: Baby’s Coming Back to Me by Jarvis Cocker; Homesick by Sleeping At Last

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

It wasn’t the film that turns you on; it’s him—it’s always him. The film only provides you with the idea.

It was a Friday afternoon, and you are mostly certain that you are going to spend the weekend alone again. Jake is out of town for a photoshoot and an interview for some magazine afterward. The time is too tight for a roundtrip back home. You clicked on a random movie to put on as background noise. It’s Talk to Her, which you have seen a long time ago and only have a vague memory of. You do remember there’s a nice song in it.

What you didn’t remember is the mise en abyme in its latter half, and you also certainly didn’t expect you to start touching yourself during it. The black and white silent film is titled Amante Mengunte, translated as The Shrinking Lover—the hero, Alfredo, drank a potion invented by his scientist girlfriend, which caused him shrinking to the size of a thumb. He is small enough to wander around on his girlfriend’s body while she is asleep. One day, he goes for a walk on her breasts, gives her a sweet orgasm in her dreams by climbing inside her vagina, and becomes part of her forever.

You catch your hand midway as it inches towards your mound. You felt embarrassed at first, getting all hot and bothered from just seeing almost any sex scenes like some horny teenager, but you know there’s something more to it. The gush of desperate longing wells in the pit of your stomach. You miss Jake so much that the idea of keeping him in you so that you never have to be apart seems enticing. The thought scares and arouses you at the same time. You press your knees together, the familiar swelling in between your legs throbs and spreads. You know exactly what you need.

Being led by your desire, you scamper downstairs to Jake’s studio—the place that feel most like him in the whole house. Simply putting your hand on the door handle sends a buzzing current through your body. The whole action has an excitement of forbidden secrecy. It is not that you are not allowed here, quite the opposite—Jake loves having you in his studio, calling you his muse, asking you just to be there doing random stuff like going through his vinyls or reading while he strums the guitar, like you are some model posing for his artwork. However, being here alone without him makes you feel like an intruder.

Upon pushing open the door, the musky, masculine scent whirls towards you. Given the time that Jake has spent down here, the room still smells awfully like him even after the many days that he was gone. The dampness of the basement reminds you of Jake’s hair freshly washed after a shower. The fresh bergamot cushions the hidden spiciness of black pepper that tingles the upper palate of your mouth like a sensual tongue during a teasing kiss. You inhale greedily before closing the door behind you, not wanting the smell to dissipate.

You turn on your laptop and connect it to the projector in the back corner of the room. With trembling fingers you plug in a silver flash drive and click on the folder labeled with a guitar emoji.

This is probably one of your biggest secrets. You have been collecting clips of Jake’s performance that are circling on social media, some shot by professionals and some by fans. (You prefer the ones by fans though; they always have the best angles and manage to capture the hottest moments. After all, you are just one of them before you start dating Jake.) And you have been editing the videos together, making a personal documentary of Jake’s performance. So far, the length of the film has reached 17 minutes, and you still have more clips patiently lying in the footage library.

You waste no more time clicking the play button. As the bright light shines through the small transparent lens on the projector, the video comes to life on the wall in front of you. You drop down to your knees.

It starts with the clip of Norwegian Wood. You like to ease yourself into it, despite already being slithery between your fold. Watching Jake play the acoustic guitar tenderizes and relaxes you. Each note, crisp and mellifluous, drips from the strings; the misty and ethereal background sound resonates in the stadium, adding to the ambience. As if the descent of a deity, Jake walks into the light as the cheering and applauding grows louder. You let out a soft sigh. Although much sweeter and mellower than its electric counterpart, the acoustic guitar dallies with your nerves. Thanks to the inadvertent little things that let Jake’s domination shine through—the way he moves the cable out of his way with a single flick of his wrist, the way his hand moves away from the strings to quickly rub the sweat off on his pants and adjust the waistline, the way he sticks out one foot to tap the pedal—every single move is a stimuli that rouses a response from your body, reminding you of how he slaps the outside of your thigh when you are squirming a bit too much under his tongue, how he spreads your release on your lower belly when he pulls out his fingers, how he nudges your knees apart and the cool air makes your clit quiver…

The music changes, and you’ve watched the video enough times to know that the next clip is the solo to The Weight of Dreams. You chose that particular video because of how unrelenting it is. For almost seven minutes, the ruthless grip of the music washes your mind empty. You stroke your hood up and down, feeling the flesh pushing down on your clit. You try, albeit futilely, to match your speed with the beat of the music. You lift up your head and gawk at Jake’s fingers tapping and plucking the strings, the muscles of his forearm flexing and the veins pulsing. The rhythm he wrings out of the instrument drips down your throat, gliding through your fold. You scuffs closer to the wall. You miss his fingers, the callouses; the ridge that separates the hardened skin from the soft slightly scrapes your walls and occasionally grazes your clit. In slight frustration, you slam one hand against the wall for leverage, leaning forward for more friction.

The overwhelming desire, plus the whining of the guitar, must have muffled your other senses. You are completely oblivious when the door opens behind you.

Jake throws the car in the driveway and almost trips as he kicks his shoes off at the doorway. A delightful change of plans allows him to come back home for the weekend. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way your face lights up when he surprises you. To his dismay, the house is eerily quiet. Your coat and bag are both hanging by the door. He walks into the living room—the film is still playing on TV, now with the credit rolling; you blanket is bunched up into a messy pile, obviously being yanked aside; the bedroom and the washroom doors are wide open, showing no signs of you. He was about to pull out his phone when he hears the muffled melody coming from downstairs.

He could never mistake the sound of his own riff. The thought of you listening to his music when he’s away strokes his ego in the best way. He smiles to himself as he pushes open the door. The sight in front of him makes him gulp. Blood rushes to the lower half of his body.

The projector’s bright light and the video on the wall are the only light sources in the room. He could only see the right side of your face from where he is standing. But that is enough to make his dick harden. Your eyes are closed, mouth slightly agape, with your jaw slack. Your hand is buried in your underwear, the bulge created by your fingers trembling with the circular movements. The blue light illuminates your face, softens your features, and bathes you in a holy glow. With your chin tilted up and your knees pressed, it looks as if you are kneeling in front of an altar, waiting to receive some religious blessing. And there it is, the image of him in front of you, playing on stage, shredding the guitar.

Making as little noise as possible, he closes the door and makes a bee line to your laptop. He presses on the volume button until the sound is completely muted. Sensing the change, you open your eyes and almost jump out of your skin at the sight of Jake standing behind you.

“Jake, I—” Before your hand spring out of your panties, you feel a warm and firm weight on your shoulder, holding you right in place.

“Keep going.”

His hand stays there for two more heartbeats, silently restating the command, as if he knows you intend to get up. You have half a heart to protest, but you quickly yield. Seeing him shatters your judgement and your sense of shame. Rarely do dreams come true, and when they do, it’s stupid to shut the door in its face. Your fingers dig deeper, picking up the speed.

“Eyes on me, love.”

The nickname muttered in his raspy voice has your head shoot up. You watch as he walks to his guitar stand, picks up his Gibson, and plugs it into the amp.

“I say there’s no need for a mirage now that yours truly is right here,” he turns off the projector and flicks on the backlit panel lights. The room is now shrouded in a puny indigo glow. “Am I right, my dear?”

You swallow thickly. Usually, this is when Jake expects an audible answer from you. But he is particularly lenient towards your reticence today.

“Now, where did we left off?” he speaks in a low mumble. He glances at your laptop screen before shutting it off. “Ah, Meeting the Masters. Very well.”

The throbbing between your legs now matches the thumping of your heart. Each contraction directly pumps blood to your clit, ballooning up the inflamed fervidity. You feel the bundle of nerves getting softer and spongier as you get wetter. Your insides ripple as you watch Jake pushes up the neck of the guitar as the trill of notes spills. Even in your murky state of mind, you recognizes that he is improvising by adding twist and turns spontaneously.

“I can hear the gears in your mind turning,” Jake tilts his head as he studies you through hooded eyes. “And it’s interfering with the music.”

He speaks to your pussy the same way he speaks to his guitar.

“Now, tell me what you are thinking. Entertain me with some of your thoughts, baby doll,” the music halts as he stands in front of you. Lifting up your chin, his thumb brushes across your bottom lip. “I’ve missed your voice, y/n. Talk to me.”

It sounded more like a plea instead of a command. Hearing that he misses you too warms up your heart. The pent-up grievance wells up to your throat, pressing a whine out of you: “I miss you so much…I-I imagine you are here.”

Jake hums encouragingly: “Be more specific, love. How, exactly?”

Dirty talk was never your metier. Jake is the talker in bed. He is fully conversant with your body as well as the effect that each of his moves has on you; you’ve always assumed he knows exactly what you want, and he’s always been correct. However, he is determined to push you further today. Seeing your hesitation, he decides to help you out.

“Am I there? Are you watching me?”

“Y-yes,” You take a deep breathe. “I am in the stadium. You..you are playing on stage.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Just you, only you. You are playing, and I am in the pit, by the barricade. And I get wet. I kneel down, just like—like I am doing now.” Your fingers flinch away from your clit, the feeling a bit too intense for you to continue the words.

“I am touching myself as I watch you play so perfectly, but you…you are not looking at me.”

Jake lets out a pitiful coo: “awww, I’m being mean, am I? Ignoring my sweet girl?”

“N-no!!” You quickly deny, shaking your head frantically. If you are in your normal mindset, what you are about to say would make you burst, but the fluttering sensation down there is burning a trail of wildfire straight up to your brain; the stiff string in your mind uncoils around the pole of shame as the next sentence fall from your lips hurriedly: “It’s me, I’m seeking emotional validation because I’m such an attention whore.”

Upon hearing that, Jake’s heart clenches. He knows that you are deep in your head and whatever you say now are probably some of the most cathartic and earnest words he will ever hear from you. The words revealing your deepest desire, your long-repressed yearning for him. While flattered by the love and devotion, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt hearing your utter self-degradation. His grip on the guitar tightens, and the base of his thumbnail pales. He almost relents, wanting to scoop you up in his arms, carry you to bed, and adore you with kisses. But you are not finished.

“The gravel is grazing my knees and there will be scratches and bruises after. I finger myself. I close my eyes and imagine it is you doing it…you fucking me with your music. I imagine your fingers fucking my pussy the same way they move across the fret board and strum the strings,” now you find yourself unable to stop—the words plummeting out of you, one after another. Your fingers still dance around your throbbing clit, rubbing your labia up and down faster, drawing breathy moans.

“Haah.. Aaah…Wh-when I look up, I saw myself being projected onto those giant screens on both sides of the stage, the camera zooms in on my face…so, ah, fuck, I am watching you…and me fucking myself at the same time. Oh, please, Jake—” Your hips fall back down to your heels and you drop your head in defeat. Your movements lost its rhythm.

“Keep talking.” Jake paces towards you. You can only see the tip of his sock-clad toes and the way they slightly dig into the carpet. Your hand involuntarily reaches for him, holding onto his ankles first and then slowly creeping upwards. He bends at the waist, the guitar hanging from his shoulder, its neck knocking at your collarbone. His lips graze your ear, a mere whisper reverberates like thunder: “Go on, what else?”

You bite back more moans. “Uh…hum…The people, the people around me. They t-take out their phones and start recording and taking pictures of me.”

“Really, do they? How do you feel about that?”

“Oh God. There’s…I can hear so much…so many clicks and clacks of the shutters. And your guitar. And they talk…” Your hand on his calf fraps, a futile attempt to draw him closer. Your forearm feels sore, your neglected clit screaming for more love and contact.

“Please, Jake. I want to cum…I…” You open your mouth only to chock on a whimper as you feel Jake’s middle finger gently pressing on your clit. He is not moving; his finger merely stays there like bee on a flower's anther, pulling more sticky nectar out of you. Your arm gives out, smacking down on your thigh as you hurl forward.

“Tsk tsk, patience, love. You haven’t finished yet,” Jake leaves sloppy, wet kisses along your jawline. You pander to his lips, head lolling to the side. Every kiss feels like a searing cigarette burn.

“What do they say, y/n? Do they call you a slut?”

“Hell, yes. Yes, they post them online, the videos. They hashtag it…Mmm.. ‘Jake Kiszka’s slut,’ ‘the guitarist’s hoe’…”

With those last two words, Jake’s finger start circling your clit, a silent reward for your honesty and a bait to egg you on further. The agonizing buildup leaves you drenched at this point. The wet gushy sound is your pussy’s content purring, now that she was finally granted some attention.

“And in the end I finished. I finished along with your solo. I—I was so spent that I couldn’t even stand. Then, you finally look at me. You look at me straight in the eyes, and y-you…you said…”

“Good girl.”

“Good girl.”

Reality overlaps your imagination as you both mutter the two exact same words.

Your eyes widen. You lips brush passed Jake’s cheekbone and your forehead drops to the part where the body of the guitar meets the neck. The material cooling your skin like cooling pads for a feverish patient, breathing a sense of clarity into your mind. You are in a complete state of submission to the guitar, almost prostrating and bowing to it—a pagan, blindly asking for blessing and begging its approval.

Holy guitar spirit, please do not take up all of his time; share this man with me as well. God, I ache for him like no one else.

You will probably realize how stupid and abject the plea sounds later, that is, if you still care to recall; but right now, you couldn’t care less. You are hovering perilously on the edge of the precipice.

Lowering his gaze, Jake takes notice of your fingernails digging into the flesh above your knees and how your iron grip around his ankles strengthens even more. He knows it’s about time.

“So fucking pretty, my sweet baby.” The tip of his finger latches down on that exact spot, moving infinitesimally but effective enough to summon all your sensory nerve endings to orchestrate a collective hymn.

“Let go for me, love.”

That’s all you need to hear. Your shoulder hunches, ribcage pulls inward, stomach hollows, the muscles of your thigh contract as the walls of your pussy press together, dragging and sucking Jake’s fingers into you. Immense pleasure, like rock candy, bursts and bounces hither and thither all over your body. A part of you wish time could stop right there, so that you are preserved in the moment of forever bliss with a part of him slotted inside you, like an ignorant beetle being caught in a dollop of tree sap.

Jake makes sure you ride out your high before he straightens up. The soreness of his back only feeds more to the hardness of his cock. He slings the guitar off of his shoulder and sets it flat on the floor using only one arm, not even bothering putting it back on the stand; his other arm already wraps around your shoulder. He kneels down in front of you, his hands closed on each side of your face and his forehead resting against yours. Your breaths mingle as your heartbeats align. Jake gently pulls on your nape as you bury your nose in his chest, feeling his fingers scratching your back.

“Did so well, my love. My good, good girl.”

You catches your breath and musters your strength to look up to him with a tired smile. Your hands trail toward the bulbous erection restricted by his corduroy pants. Your mouth follows.

Jake hisses through his teeth, throwing his head back at the much-needed contact. With impressive willpower, he reaches down and cuddles your chin, pulling you up. “As much as I would love that, I also misses my girl terribly. I want to make love to her. Is that okay? Do I have her permission to love on her properly?”

The echoing tingles from your last orgasm hurtle back, making your head swoon. “Oh God, yes. Please. Jake, please.”

Jake scrambles to his feet and lifts you into his arms. Your legs feel like putty from kneeling so long. You stagger and fall back onto the leather couch. The couch is clearly too small for two grown adults, but neither of you mind or care; if anything, the limited space amplifies every sense. He guides your hands down his length and pumps it a few times. The closeness of your bodies makes his swollen tip pointed directly at your clit. You let out a needy moan, threading your finger through his curls and tugs gently until his eyes are level with yours.

Jake will forever revel in the way you look at him with your doe eyes, your pupil dilated, like you couldn’t believe he is real, like you’re intoxicated by a case of him.

“Hi, beautiful.” he grins.

“Hey you.”

You cup his face and go in for another kiss. He spits in his hand and reaches between you, positioning his length at your entrance and nudging his head in tentatively. You are too caught up in the moment that you didn’t realize your body is so taut, not out of nerves and rejection, but out of a desperate urge to hold him close. The hollowing eagerness that has been compiling for the past few months return with a vengeance. The weight and warmth of Jake’s body on top of you is all you could’ve asked for and more.

Jake can feel the confliction between the welcoming pulsation of your pussy and the hindrance clamping down. “Easy, dear,” he says as his hand on your breast traces down to your hips, rubbing soothing circles on your pelvis.

You tilt your head backwards. Your belly falls as your ribs flare out to the sides. He presses in slowly as you opens for him, until he is fully sheathed inside you. The final piece of the puzzle is being put into place. He moans a silent “fuck” into your sternum. The shiver of air travels right to your heart, through the flesh and bones.

Jake is right, no words other than “make love” can better describe what he is doing to you. Every single one of his movements murmurs “love”—his hand grabs yours and places it against his chest, right where his heart is. His cock repeatedly thrusts and retreats like crashing waves, brushing that particularly sensitive spot. His lips entwine with yours, nibbling and licking.

Pleasure, accumulating rapidly, like an empty bottle under the running tap. The surface tension jiggles, threatening to spill.

“Jake…fuck! I’m gonna—”

“Let go, baby,” Jake’s voice is unsteady too. “I’m right behind you.”

In fact, he didn’t even mange to hold out that long. The pressure sprints down his spine and blasts right to his cock. It spasms inside you, pinching and squirting. You climax together. For a moment, your hearts banging crazily against your ribcage, swearing to break out so they can be pressed together even closer.

You lie in the afterglow, two shells washed ashore, scoured back and forth by the slews of post-orgasmic endorphins.

“I love you, y/n,” Jake sighs into your hair.

“I love you, Jake. I’ve missed you so much, you have no idea,” your hands roam on his back.

“I could only imagine,” he sounds compunctious. Jake sneaks his hand behind your head, dipping down for another kiss. “I’m sorry for being away. Thank you for letting me love on you, baby. Your body feels like home to me, you know that?”

You are knocked out of words by the vulnerability and the weight enveloped in that statement. You can only nod, blinking fast to dispel the stinging tears.

“Oh, don’t cry, love,” he smiles at you. There’s also something glistening in his warm caramel eyes. “I am here now, will always be here,” his finger laces with yours, traveling in turn, tapping on your temple, your eyes, and finally resting on the left of your chest, “so, Carpe Diem, Carpe Noctem…”

“Carpe Omnia.”

If home is where the heart is, he has finally settled down. No matter how far, no matter where, once and once again, Jake will always come home to you in the end, where together your soul will dance, entangled in an inseparable embrace—day, night, and for a lifetime.

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

Yay you made it!!! Thank you SO MUCH for reading!! Let me know what do you think or if we want a taglist. Any comments, thoughts, and feedbacks are GREATLY welcomed and appreciated.

My other works: Permission to Fall || Mariner's Complex || Ticked (all my boxes) || Love is a four-legged word || The Lucky Ones

#greta van fleet fan fiction #jake kiszka #jake kiskza x reader #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #greta van fleet smut #gvf fanfiction

[pandorasprongs]

PROLOGUE | hold on to the memories.

'it's nice to have a friend' fic masterlist + playlist

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.0k

SUMMARY: stories of jamie and reader's friendship over the years, from age 7 to 17.

WARNINGS: language, slight body image/appearance issues, slight panic attack, vague descriptions of sex

A/N: yay! finally starting this fic with sort of an overview/background on their relationship, but there will be more flashbacks throughout the chapters. no gif for this one cause tbh i could not find one that fits the vibes here, but regardless hope you all enjoy the prologue!

Age 7

"You mind handing that back over?" You hear a voice coming from the other side of the fence as you pick up a loose football.

You turn to find a boy around your age in a football kit. His hair was completely waxed to one side, probably to keep it from covering his eyes while playing. You recognize his uniform as your school's football team's, though you're not sure if you've seen him before. Then again, you didn't know anyone in town yet. You had just moved to Manchester a few months ago, just as the school year started and while you had a few people to talk to in class, you didn't have any solid friends really.

You toss the ball back to the boy, who catches it swiftly. You think that's the end of it, so you start heading back to your house when he calls out to you again.

"Hey! What's your name?" You answer him, with him nodding in acknowledgment. "I think I've seen you around the school. I'm Jamie."

He reaches over the fence and extends his arm for you to shake it, despite the fact that you were already at your front door. You walk back and shake it, as he asks, "Do you wanna play football? I got a game tomorrow, but Mum's too busy to play goalie."

You had hoped your look of glasses, multiple layers of clothes, and generally un-sporty demeanor was enough to dissuade offers to play, but this Jamie didn't really seem to care.

"Maybe another time," You reply, but this boy is persistent.

"Okay, do you wanna watch me score goals?" He offers before glancing at the book tucked under your arm and pointing at it. "You can read while I play."

Once you realize that he wasn't going to quit, you finally agree. You head back inside to tell your mom that you'd be playing with your neighbor for the afternoon and since you already finished your homework, she was more than willing to let you go. She always said you needed some fresh air, which was why you were outside in the first place.

You walk back to your yard to find Jamie still standing where you left him, but this time he was practicing his dribbling. He was pretty good from what you knew about football, and walk over to his side of the fence. He stops when he sees you and starts leading you to his backyard. There was a goal net in the far back and some cones set up, probably to practice maneuvering the ball better. 

Jamie turns to see if you're still following him and drags you to a small table with two chairs near the door to the house. "You can stay here and count my goals," he instructs you and you nod your head in understanding.

While Jamie kicked around the football, you continued reading your book, occasionally looking up at what the boy was doing. It was easy to keep track of the score since Jamie would be cheering like he just won the Premier League when he scored. 

After getting bored of reading, you decide to ask Jamie to teach you how to play. You see his eyes light up and immediately drags you up from your seat. The first thing he teaches you is how to dribble the ball. He held your hands the whole time to stop you from falling over, but that only seems to make it harder for you to move around.

Once you finally got the hang of that, — meaning you no longer tripped over your own feet — the next few hours were then spent teaching you the other basics of football like passing and shooting. You only started to get decent at shooting when you realized that the sun was already setting.

"I think I have to go home now," You tell Jamie, whose expression suddenly fell at your statement. You go and grab your book from the table and wave at the boy. "It was nice playing with you!"

If he said anything in reply, you didn't hear it because you sprinted back around the fence and into your house. You take off your shoes, relieving the ache of kicking around the ball, and go to tell your parents everything you did that day.

—

The next time you see Jamie was Friday morning. He spotted you leaving your house for school and invited you to his team's football game that afternoon. "You just have to stay in school a little later. My mum said your mum might get worried, so she told me to tell you now so you can ask her."

You run back inside to do just that and after informing her that the other parents would be chaperoning the game, she agreed. You also take the chance to get your scarf and gloves because you hadn't realized how cold it was outside. She went out with you to tell Jamie the good news.

"Thank you, Ma'am," he replied, causing your mom to let out a chuckle at how polite the boy became. She finally sends you off to school and Jamie decides to walk with you too.

—

You couldn't help but be amazed at how well Jamie was playing. You knew that he was at least decent based on how well he taught you that day, but he was practically scoring all the goals for his team. None of the opposing players could even catch up to him, at times. You wonder how he kept his energy up despite the fact that it was freezing outside and he was only in shorts.

After the game, his team got hot chocolate to celebrate their win. You go to congratulate him, but find it hard due to the number of people surrounding them. Jamie was looking for you too, so the moment he spots you trying to make your way through the crowd, he heads to you instead and pulls you aside.

"Did you like the game?" was the first thing he says to you.

You immediately nod, "Yeah, it was really fun to watch! Congrats on winning."

Jamie shrugs, "Thanks, but it's really nothing, we've been on a streak for a while." You don't know if he's just being humble or bragging about his team, but either way, you're happy they're doing well.

Afterward, Jamie decides to bring you to meet his mom. She's quick to embrace you and mentions that Jamie's been talking about you non-stop, much to the boy's embarrassment. She hands you a hot chocolate of your own and you're grateful to be able to warm your hands. You lost one of the pair around lunchtime, so you've been keeping your hands in your jacket pocket the whole day.

While Jamie goes to change, you stay with Georgie as you savor your drink. She notices the lack of cover on your right hand and gives you an extra pair that she kept in her bag. It's clearly too big for you and its orange color clashes with the blue and white on your left hand but you're grateful regardless.

Soon after, Jamie's rushing out of the locker room looking cozy in a sweatshirt under his winter jacket. He's wearing gloves as well and when he notices your mismatched gloves, he takes one of his off and switches them with the orange one. 

They're a much better fit and you thank Jamie for it. The boy adds, "My hands are bigger, so they won't slip off as easily." 

"Come on, let's go home!" He adds, grabbing one of your hands with his left and his mom's with his right as you walk off the pitch.

After coming home, your mom notices your new glove and decides to bring some cookies for the neighbors as a thank you. That started a months-long gift exchange between the two moms for reasons ranging from watching over their kids on weekdays to lending their kids a pencil for a standardized test. 

You didn't really mind it though, because it usually meant you'd get to hang out with Jamie longer. You spent countless weekends riding your bikes around town, playing football, and even camping in your backyards. The boy who threw that ball over your fence was quickly becoming your best friend.

—

Age 15

“Aww, my little girl is so grown up, now!” Your mom exclaims as she opens the door to see you in a pink knee-length sundress. You don’t know why she’s so shocked you’re wearing it considering that she was the one who bought it for you. “Hmm, but do you think you need a necklace?”

“Mom!” You whine and she immediately backs off. It’s not like you minded the suggestion, but you had your own issues to deal with and didn’t need your parents to get involved.

When you said yes to Tim asking you on a date, you knew you’d be both excited and nervous. But you didn’t realize how insecure it would make you. Your parents say all the time that it’s normal for kids your age — being insecure about your looks and body, — but that advice never seemed to help. As your mom leaves the room, you turn back to the mirror and sigh. Something was just off. The dress was pretty, the shoes matched, and your mom did great with your hair, but even then, you still aren’t satisfied.

You weren’t as experienced with make-up and fashion as the other girls in your school and you had long since accepted that. You just didn’t realize it would backfire on you in times like these. You sigh sharply again. If Tim really liked you, it wouldn’t matter that much right? You add the necklace your mom was suggesting before heading downstairs.

After a string of ‘oohs’ and ‘awws’ from your parents, you start heading to the restaurant. Most popular restaurants among your schoolmates were walkable and you didn’t want an even more awkward introduction with your parents there, going there by yourself was the best plan. You had gotten there early, so you settled on the bench outside the restaurant to wait for your date.

Maybe around the first half hour, you should’ve suspected something was off. But you stayed for another hour in case Tim actually showed up. God, you shouldn’t have believed he was sincere. Why would someone ask you out? You always kept to yourself in class, spent most of your time studying, and never even tried to go to parties or anything.

You check your phone again because some hopeful part of you thought he’d text you with a valid excuse, but all you see are some messages from classmates asking for notes and a missed call from your mum. You were not ready to face your parents right now, not after the hopeful looks on their faces that their daughter might be sociable for a night.

Instead, you call the only other person you can. Jamie makes it to the place in record time and the first thing you do is hug him. The moment you make contact with his body is the moment you let the tears flow from your face. It didn’t really matter at that point if people were staring: you just needed someone. You needed Jamie.

“I’m gonna murder that prick,” Jamie threatens as he reciprocates the hug.

“Please don’t,” you whisper into his chest. “I can’t have you going to jail right now.” Despite trying your best to say it jokingly, your voice is too hoarse to properly convey it.

After what felt like hours in that position, you finally let go. You soon realize that your streaming tears had stained Jamie’s shirt. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

The boy looks down and just shrugs. “It was getting too small for me, anyway.” That’s enough to put a smile on your face.

The two of you get into the car – Georgie’s car, since technically, Jamie only had a provisional license – and start driving back to your house. Maybe it was your wrecked emotional state, but you decided to outright ask, “Jamie, do you find me attractive?”

You gasp as Jamie almost crashes the car. You quickly clarify as he steadies the vehicle, “Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just, I don’t really know how I look to guys.”

“Right, sorry.” He says but doesn’t look away from the road. “I mean, you are pretty. As long as you don’t let it get to your head.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, fuck off Jamie, I’m not you.” You could list the number of times Jamie’s flashed that cocky smirk to girls at school during breaks. Those were some of the very few times you were embarrassed to be seen with him and you laugh at the reminder. But your smile quickly disappears when you look down at your outfit. “Do you think other guys think I’m pretty?”

Your voice is as soft as it’s ever been, not wanting to show how insecure you’re feeling at the moment. But Jamie can tell like he always does. You turn the corner to your house and he stops the car in the road and fully turns to you.

“Fuck those other guys. Fine, if you need someone to say it, I will. You are fucking gorgeous, especially tonight.” You cringe at his words, not used to having anyone say that about you, but he gets you to look at him again. “I’m serious. And Tim’s a fucking idiot for ditching you.”

Despite his harsh tone, the soft look in his eyes as he tries to comfort you almost makes you tear up again. As if it’s become a routine, you reach over and envelop him in a hug once more. To make up for the failed date, the two of you spend the rest of the night eating a tub of Neopolitan ice cream and soon enough, you forget that Tim even existed.

—

Age 17

Your teachers always said you were a good writer. But no one ever told you how fucking difficult it was to start your personal statement. You'd never realized how hard it is to prove you should go to university until you forced yourself to sit down and actually try and write something. You started with the outline route, trying to note all your academic achievements, extracurriculars, and things like that before you ended up boring yourself.

You've written 9 possible starting lines at this point, and in the end, you decide to just shut your laptop in despair. Try again tomorrow, you said to yourself. The same thing you said yesterday and the day before that. 

You go to lie down on your bed when you hear something hit your window. It's a light clinking sound, and you ignore it till you hear another one. You finally decide to check outside your window and hear shouting from above.

"God?" you ask hesitantly.

"Nope, just me," you look up to find Jamie Tartt sitting on his rooftop, almost giving you a heart attack.

"Get down from there!" You tell him immediately and instantly cringe at how similar your tone is to your mom’s. Jamie rolls his eyes at the order but obliges anyway. He starts going down the roof into his bedroom — carrying an empty bottle of beer in his left hand — and makes it through his window.  Once he's safe with his feet on the floor, he turns around to face you in your adjacent bedroom.

"Why'd you even go up there?" you question and Jamie, like always, simply shrugs.

"Felt like it," you shake your head at his reasoning. You knew your best friend could be reckless, but you didn't think he'd do something as stupid as that, especially before scouting season.

"So falling off and breaking your legs wasn’t something you thought could possibly happen?"

"Well, that’s why I have you to warn me," He exclaims, before going back to the conversation. "I'm coming over."

Both your sets of parents were out for the night and they'd known each other long enough to trust each other's kids enough, so neither of you needed to message them about it. You watch him sprint out of his room and after a few minutes, you here the doorbell ring.

You head downstairs and open the door to find a panting Jamie leaning on the frame. "3 minutes, new record time."

"Well, they do say I'm one in a million." He jokes as you let him inside and he takes off his shoes.

"Who's they, in this situation?"

"Mum." He says blankly, collapsing on the couch. "And Simon."

You laugh, before lifting his legs and shuffling on the opposite side of the couch. You rest them on your lap for a second, before a wave of stench from his feet hits you and you shove them off. Jamie goes back to sitting upright and he instead leans his head on your shoulder.

You turn on the TV and start browsing for a movie as your entertainment for the night. Most weekends were like this; hanging out in one of your houses, ordering pizza — which Jamie did as you looked through channels, — and relaxing on the couch.

The order was placed and you settled on the Hunger Games this time. You watched the first part of the movie in silence as usual, but once the pizza arrived, Jamie decided to change things up.

"Wanna play 20 questions?" You look at him curiously. You knew practically everything about each other, so why on Earth would you play a game that's every person's go-to icebreaker?

You don't have a chance to protest because after taking a bite of the pizza, he asks, "What were you doing before I got here?"

Your eyes widened at that. Maybe the one thing you never really talked about with Jamie was your future. Neither one of you would admit it, but there wasn't any chance that you two were going to be doing the same things in your career. You had academia and Jamie had football. It's hard to imagine something that kept the two of you together and also made both of you happy, so you never brought it up.

"Uh, I was having a wank," you joke but Jamie isn't amused. He continues to stare at you with an expression that you rarely ever saw; he was being serious. "I was trying to write my personal statement."

 You look cautiously at your best friend who is quiet for the first time tonight. He takes a bite of his pizza again and with a full mouth, says, "And? How's it going?"

You groan and lean your head back. "Fucking terrible. I can't think of anything to say about myself."

"The fuck do you mean? You're like the smartest person I know." He points out and while you're touched he thinks that, you sigh.

"Unis don't just look at grades anymore. They want substance and worldly impact from their applicants. How the fuck am I supposed to change our societal landscape at fucking seventeen?" You admit, and it's like a weight has been lifted off of you. You drop your plate of pizza on the table and lean into Jamie's side.

"You want me to write it for you? I've got a bunch of great things to say about my best friend." He offers and you finally let out a laugh. "I can put how fucking amazing you are at Scrabble, how you can predict the ending of a movie in the first 20 minutes, how loud your voice can get when you cheer me on at a football game, and how you can hear a song once and already figure out how to play it on the piano."

You look up to find Jamie giving you a wide smile and his happiness is contagious. But that feeling is almost instantly replaced when you remember the position you two are in and feel your heart beating faster.

You don't ignore the fact that Jamie has grown up a lot more in recent years: finally passing you in height, having more defined arm muscles, and definitely growing into his features. It's harder to feel normal when you do the things you did as kids like when he rests his head or arms on your shoulders, pulls you into his chest to stop you from walking in front of a passing car, or just like right now when you're leaning into him, his arm pulls you closer to his body.

You slowly pull yourself away, but then he grabs hold of your hand instead. You've held hands before, but again, there's just something different about now. You decide to leave it there before finally replying, "I'm sure with that kind of stories in it, they'll let me into fucking Oxford." The two of you laugh before you grab your plate of pizza again and turn to back to the movie.

—

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” You hear someone say, as you turn the corner to your school’s locker room.

It was normal to hear the players get nervous before the finals, but hearing Jamie Tartt panicking was a whole new thing for most of your classmates. Some league teams had sent scouts for the striker in this game and while everyone knew he’d do great, it seemed like the school’s support still wasn’t enough to convince him of that.

When his teammates couldn’t snap him out of it, their Plan B was to call you.

“Sorry, I’m looking for my best friend, Jamie Tartt. Brown hair, blue eyes, kind of conceited, but pretty nice if you get to know him.” You start out jokingly, but when his panicked eyes landed on yours, you quickly shift gears. “Shit, sorry. Not the time for jokes, I guess.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m off my game right now,” He starts, still trying to catch his breath as he moves around frantically. You take his hands into yours in order to steady him, but when that doesn’t work, you grab him by his shoulders.

Usually, Jamie would be towering over you, but with his slumped posture at the moment, you were almost eye-to-eye with the guy. “Jamie, take a deep breath. Focus on me, okay?”

You’ve gone through this enough times — usually with you in Jamie’s place — to know how to calm him down.

He follows your directions and you slowly nod your head. “Keep breathing, just do that for now.” Jamie closes his eyes and slowly starts to steady himself. Your hands move from his shoulders to his hands like you initially planned.

“I know it’s fucking terrifying, but believe me when I say that you are incredible. You know how you always tell me that I’ll smash it as Model UN conferences? This time, I’m the one telling you you’re gonna be the best fucking player out there.” You pause for a moment in case he reacts, but all Jamie does is nod his head. “I believe in you. Georgie and Simon believe in you. Hell, this entire school fucking believes in you. I swear, I saw people planning a chant for you outside.”

That gets the player to laugh and you smile, seeing a glimpse of his usual self. “Also, I know I’m complimenting you right now, but better savor it cause I’m never inflating your ego like this ever again.”

“Not even when I help Man City get another win in my first year?” Jamie finally speaks up.

“I’ll be complimenting Pep, not you.” You playfully roll your eyes. “But to be able to do that, you have to get out and play today.”

Jamie straightens up and starts shaking away the nerves. He turns to head to his team, but not before giving you a quick hug and a ‘thank you.’ Once he enters the locker room again, you start heading back to your seat.

—

Age 18

"Do you really want to do this?" Jamie asks carefully, but you've already made up your mind as you pull him closer.

You were going off to university in a few months and Jamie would be doing his summer training soon. Both his and your parents were out of town on a couple's retreat, so it was either now or never.

You knew that going off for college would increase the chances of your first time being with a random guy you met at a frat party infinitely, so you could say it was a calculated decision to jokingly ask Jamie when you talked about it if he'd be willing to sleep with you.

You didn't really expect anything and for the first few seconds, Jamie was too in shock to actually reply. You immediately tried to dismiss it as a joke, but before you could, he replied, "Sure."

You knew that Jamie had already had sex with girls before, — hearing him try and sneak the girls out of his bedroom window was always a fun story to bring up the next day — so you thought that it would just be another one for him.

But that night was the most delicate you've ever seen him. He didn't rush you or make you feel uncomfortable. He checked up on you constantly, making sure it didn't hurt and you were actually enjoying yourself. You made sure to hug him after, — not being able to say any words of gratitude out loud, — and you eventually went to sleep like that.

You woke up the morning after, still with him beside you, but after you got changed and he went back to his house, neither of you brought it up again. You went back to your old routine of hanging out in the afternoons and movie nights as if nothing even happened.

And it really was for the best, considering that the next time you had sex really was in a frat house’s bathroom.

—

Now, you were loading the last of your things into your car for your family road trip to Cardiff, which was to also move you into your dorm. Your mom was recounting the boxes, making sure you didn't forget anything because in her words, "We are not driving 3 and half hours twice just to bring you your toothbrush." Your dad was in the kitchen fixing up snacks for the trip, so you decide to take this chance and finally say goodbye to your best friend.

You barely saw Jamie in the weeks leading up to this since he spent most of his time at training. Even on weekends, he would be passed out in his room from the painstaking drills of the days prior. So as you knock on their door, you aren't very hopeful.

It reveals Simon who instantly pouts and brings you in for a hug. You always appreciated him for how he accepted Jamie into his life, despite the latter's fears that he'd be just like his father.

"Come inside," He offers, but you shake your head. You had to leave soon and you didn't want to delay the trip any longer. “Alright, but I was actually baking some muffins that you guys can take on your drive there, and you can’t say no to those.”

You laugh as you nod, before asking, "Is Georgie home?" 

Simon calls out to his wife to tell her that you're about to leave. You soon hear quick footsteps descending the stairs before you are once again enveloped in a hug. 

Simon heads out to presumably pack up those muffins, but you're too distracted by the rising feeling of sadness as you say goodbye to the woman whose practically been your second mother for a decade.

"You stay safe, okay? I know you'll enjoy your life there, but don't make your parents worry too much. Cause then they won't be able to stop talking about you," You laugh at her prediction before giving her one last hug.

Simon races back to you with a brown paper bag which he hands over, along with a pat on the back. You turn around to see if there's any sign of your best friend, but Georgie answers that for you. "He said he might be running late at practice." You feel your heart sink, but do your best to mask it. You wave goodbye to the couple before walking to the car.

You hand your dad the bag of muffins and sigh, "We can go." Your parents exchange a look but oblige nonetheless. You start heading into the car when you hear the call of your name.

You turn to see Jamie, still in his kit — shorts and all, — running towards your house. You decide to meet him halfway and once he's close enough, the football player pulls you into a tight hug, as if he's never letting go.

"Did you really think I'd let you leave without saying goodbye?" He whispered into your shoulder.

"If you're in trouble for leaving practice early, that is not on me." You try and keep it light-hearted, but his laugh only makes the pit in your stomach feel worse.

"Call me, okay? As often as you can. And send me pictures of all the stadiums you're playing in. I don't care if you send ten pictures of Etihad Stadium in a row, just do it. If you ever come to Cardiff, take some time off to see me. And," you try and think of more things to say, but Jamie cups your face in his hands to make you stop.

"I'll see you during the off-season, yeah?" Jamie's look is soft and you can feel the dam stopping your tears about to break.

"Don't you fucking forget me, Jamie." You try and say as angrily as you can, but your voice cracks as Jamie pulls you into another hug.

The two of you finally separate and you head off to your car. You stop yourself from looking back as you get into your seat. 

Jamie doesn't take his eyes off you, though. He watches as your car starts and turns the corner off your street.

A/N: hope you all enjoyed this one! if you couldn't tell, some of these flashbacks were based on the song 'it's nice to have a friend' by taylor swift which is what inspired this whole thing! see you next week for the official first chapter !!

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt reader #ted lasso #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fic #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt angst #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #it's nice to have a friend series

[megamindsupremacy]

So, way back when I was a wee little cringe nerd (tentatively affectionate), I was absolutely bonkers obsessed with Percy Jackson. I also had basically zero access to the internet and only an extremely vague idea of what fanfiction was, and I definitely wasn't immersed in the fanfiction culture of the time. So that meant whenever I had Thoughts and Ideas, I was writing those fuckers straight into my class notebooks for all the world but especially my teachers to see. That being said, I just remembered my very first ever fanfiction idea, of which I wrote three pages of looseleaf in my seventh-grade social studies class with my best friend in between assignments. Which I will now elaborate on as an Adult because honestly, what else do I have a semi-popular Tumblr blog for?

The basic idea is that, in the Son of Neptune, instead of heading straight for Camp Jupiter, Percy very vaguely remembers that the mysterious Annabeth lives very close by. He skids down the hill next to the Caldecott Tunnel, but instead of crashing into the highway, he lands in the back of a pickup and is carried away by a very panicked+annoyed driver who wants the kid in the back of his truck out.

(Please imagine Frank and Hazel, standing guard, watching some random kid go screaming down the side of a hill on a serving platter while pursued by gorgons, land in a pickup, and, still screaming, swordfight said gorgons. Who get whacked out of the air and run over by a school bus. Can you fucking imagine)

(Please also imagine Juno, waiting invisibly next to the road, also watching Percy go screaming by in a truck. She had been waiting there to give Percy her mysterious "choose safety or your memories" spiel but now he's fucking gone)

The pickup driver pulls over to the side of the road near the bay and tells Percy to get the fuck out of the back of his car. Percy, seeing the gorgons in hot pursuit in the distance, makes the logical move and jumps straight into the bay. He lets instincts and muscle memory guide him to the edge of one of those fancy neighborhoods that border the edge of the water. He continues following muscle memory and instincts and ends up at Annabeth's house, and he knocks on the door.

Fredrick, opening the door: Percy Jackson??

Percy: ...who are you

Fredrick: you exploded my car four years ago! my daughter has been looking for you for months. ANNABETH COME DOWNSTAIRS I FOUND YOUR BOYFRIEND

Percy: HUH WHAT

Annabeth gives him a flying tackle hug and Percy is 60% confused, 40% relieved because finally this is someone he remembers. Annabeth starts talking about how they need to get Percy to CHB stat, everyone is so worried about him, they knew Jason had had amnesia but it had been so long they weren't sure if Percy was still alive, etc etc,

Percy is nodding along in confusion and pretending he knows wtf she's talking about.

Juno appears in the Chase house. She's mad as hell that a) percy isn't already in Camp Jupiter and b) he's with Annabeth (derogatory). She teleports Percy straight into CJ but Annabeth manages to hang onto him and come with.

They land on the near side of the Little Tiber, where Frank and Hazel are reporting on the weird screaming demigod in a pickup that had gone by twenty minutes ago. Juno realizes she accidentally brought Annabeth along and is Very Unhappy about this.

"Romans, I bring to you the Son of Neptune-" ("I'm the son of a planet?" Percy muttered). "For months he has been slumbering [etc]. Instruct him in your ways, induct him into your legion. As for the daughter of Minerva…” The Romans gasped, staring at Annabeth. Juno curled her lip, shooting an icy look at the girl. Annabeth snarled wordlessly in response. “She is extraneous. Do with her what you will.”

Juno disappeared

More will be added in the reblog

#mads posts #pjo #he goes left AU #titled off of my 7th grade mental map of Berkley where annabeth's house is left of the tunnel #this is almost definitely inaccurate but i'm attached to the name now #percy jackson #annabeth chase #son of neptune #heroes of olympus #riordanverse #is that all idk #go crazy send asks abt this apparently i have more lore in me than I realized #although. i have literally no plot past SoN. the plot of HoO doesn't change after this book unless i start making big radical changes I #don't feel like making #<- HA. …ha. fuck. anyways there’s more in the notes #there’s a fic now in the notes too

[galacticgraffiti]

Sugar (I've developed a taste for you)

❁ 2 ❁

!!! NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI !!!

Summary: A favour for a favour - Astarion's world has worked like that for centuries. Except- you don't know that yet.

Rating: Mature Wordcount: 3.3k Descriptors: I try to keep my reader-inserts fairly neutral, but let me know if anything slips through the cracks! Still debating how to go about C3... CW: nicknames, flirting, lusting after the pale man, blood, blood play, talks about biting, feelings talk

« Chapter 1 ⋆✦⋆ Main Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ If you prefer AO3 ⋆✦

༻────• ༻❁༺ •────༺

Chapter 2: I'm a Winged Insect, You're a Funeral Pyre

You wake up wrapped in your bedroll, barely able to open your eyes. You feel exhausted - drained.

Drained.

You sit up, your hand flying up to your neck to feel for the wound Astarion’s fangs must have  left there. They are small, barely tangible, but you can feel the small holes nonetheless.

You breathe out slowly, trying to gain some control over your feelings. The world blurs before your eyes as you recall last night.

This really happened. You let him do that to you. You gave your blood, willingly - and you found out Astarion’s big secret. Not just an elf, but a vampire. You knew he was hiding something, but something this big? May the gods have mercy on your soul because you have certainly sinned.

You shiver when the memories of last night push to the forefront of your mind - Astarion’s hand in your hair, his lips on your neck - his teeth in you. How it felt to be drunk from, how easy it was to give in and let him have what he wanted.

You don’t remember passing out, but you must have, because you have no recollection of making your way back to the campfire.

Carefully, you stretch out your sore muscles, bones and joints cracking.

“Good morning, darling.”

Astarion’s voice makes your head whip around. He is sitting there, on the thick stump of a tree right next to where you always sleep, watching you with concerned eyes.

“Good morning.” Your voice is scratchy, your throat drier than the seventh circle of the hells.

Astarion’s tongue peeks out from between pink lips, and you notice that he looks… invigorated.

“How are you feeling, sweet thing?” He sounds genuinely worried, and your heart flutters. “There was a moment last night- I thought I may have taken too much, but then you stirred in my arms… I am sorry, my dear, you just make me… hungry.”

The way his voice drops on the last word makes your heart flutter. If this is how he acts after you do him this favour, it may well have been worth it.

“Mhm.” You nod slowly, trying to focus your mind. You are not nearly as angry as you probably should be. “May have been a bit much. I’m feeling sort of woozy.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I do apologise. I promise I’ll be more careful next time.” He saunters over, kneeling next to you, his finger stroking your cheek. 

“Next time?” You laugh weakly. “You sound very certain there will be a next time.”

His eyes darken.

“Well, won’t there be?”

Your neck cracks when you stretch, then exhaustion makes you sink back into your little nest of warmth again.

“Mhh. I’ll have to think about it.”

“But- but I thought you liked it.” Astarion’s voice sounds vaguely distressed, his hand pulling away from your cheek. “I could taste it on you- I could feel it-”

“I- Gods, I’m not saying I didn’t… enjoy myself,” you clarify, though your cloudy thoughts are making it hard to put into words what exactly it is that you are feeling. “I’m just- you said it yourself, just a taste, but now you admit you lost control-”

“-I’ll get better at it with time, who was ever perfect the first time they did something?”

That shuts you right up. What in the hells does that mean?

Astarion’s face is guarded when he looks at you.

“It was… the first time I did not drink from an animal,” he explains quietly. “You were my first, and you were perfect. Better than anything I could have ever dreamed of, simply divine. A delectable treat that I was not in the least prepared for. I am sorry if I got a bit wrapped up in the moment, my love.”

Your cheeks flush at his words. Never in a million years would you have thought you might enjoy being called a ‘treat’, and yet, here you are.

Astarion pats your blanket, gently pushing you back down until you give in and roll up in your blanket once more. His voice is soft and gentle when he regards you.

“Now, now, my pet. Rest some more; it seems you need it. And… thank you.”

You can barely keep your eyes open, and the small smile on his face is the last thing you see before you slip off to sleep again.

*****

It becomes a regular occurrence after that. You know it shouldn’t, you know it is a stupid risk each and every time. You know you have less strength the next day, your head swimming and your throat aching. But, oh, to watch Astarion fight fuelled by your blood is a delight you never expected.

He is stronger, much more powerful than you ever saw him before - and happier. His behaviour does not change, exactly, but every once in a while, you now catch him trying to take care of you in small, nearly imperceptible ways. It astounds you, it surprised you - but you can’t help feeling flattered by his attentions.

Each time he drinks from you, the pain grows less and the odd ecstasy that accompanies it takes over more and more. It is intoxicating, to feel him so close to you, to witness the noises that escape him, and feel the bobbing of his throat when he swallows what your body provides. You start to look forward to the nights where he finds you.

Each time feels more intimate than the last: From the beginning of it all in that stream, to a secluded place in the woods by the campsite, to his lavish encampment, then yours, then his again, and finally, against a column in a forgotten crypt, when you two stay behind to loot the place while the rest of the party moves on.

It’s getting harder to separate your body’s reaction to something so visceral from feeling aroused by the power that comes with it. To look into Astarion’s blood-red eyes and know they are shining only because of you has an odd effect on you.

And while he whispers sweet nothings, while he groans and whimpers as he drinks you down, you always try to keep up some semblance of control: After that first time in the river, no noise ever escapes you, even though your jaw hurts from clenching.

You wonder vaguely if it is sick that you derive pleasure from this arrangement - but then again, so does he. It is all worth it to see how happy he is, though he waves Gale and Karlach’s comments of his improved mood off like bothersome flies.

Astarion keeps his promise - he never drains you as much as he did the first time, even though you can see in his eyes that he would keep going every time if he thought you might survive it. He never asks for seconds again, and you are grateful. If he did, you are not sure you could deny him.

It has been a while since he last came to you - a few days, no more, but you have gotten so used to your little ritual that it feels like an eternity.

You have moved camp since the last time you got to spend time together; deeper into the forest, on your search for the druid Halsin. You try not to think too much about the fact that Astarion has not sought you out. Trying to keep all this a secret has turned out to be harder than either of you thought. No opportunity has presented itself for a while now, and you have to be rational about the arrangement. It’s not in either of your best interest for the group to find out what you two have been up to. You would rather bear the lewd comments in quiet dignity, thank you very much.

Astarion consumes - well, not your every waking thought, but you find yourself thinking much more about him than you should. It’s not just his fangs that you daydream about either - his lips have snuck into your dreams, his hands, his voice. It’s just not fair.

Thus, tonight, you are determined to find a quiet place for the two of you. The urge that grows inside you must be satisfied. You tell yourself that you do this to make Astarion stronger - you have seen him weaken throughout the week, trying to survive off of animals the way he used to. But it’s not the same.

Now that you have seen what Astarion can do, you want to see him like that all the time: powerful, striking down enemies quicker than you can draw your weapon sometimes. And it’s not just for selfish purposes, either: You want him to feel like that all the time.

And so, you concoct a plan - simple yet effective.

After dinner - Karlach cooked, so it was actually quite enjoyable - you excuse yourself to go explore the surrounding woods. You tell your companions that you want to find another source of water, under the pretence of needing to wash your clothing. Actually, it may not be all pretence - you do smell. So do your companions, which is why no one has complained yet. But you may as well use the time exploring the forest for something helpful aside from just luring Astarion away.

When you catch the way Astarion’s head pricks up when you say that you are looking for a quiet place with water, you know that he has caught on. He is too smart for his own good sometimes, but this time, you are glad about it.

Anxiety grips your  stomach as you wander through the darkness below the thick trees and hope that he might follow you.

What if he doesn’t? What if you happen upon a wild animal before he finds you? Maybe he has lost his taste for you, or-

“There you are, darling.” His voice has become so familiar in the last few days, quiet and demanding at the same time. You wish you didn’t like it so much.

You turn around to find Astarion much closer to you than you had anticipated. He is always so quiet.

“Here I am.” You cock your head. “Was there something I could help you with?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me now, sweet thing.” He steps closer, cupping your face in his hands. “You knew exactly what you were doing when you left camp. You were hoping I would come find you, were you not?”

“Maybe.” You try not to give in, but he feels too good- too warm, too comforting. His teeth shine in the moonlight when he laughs and your belly tightens.

“Ah, I knew it. You missed me.”

You raise a brow and stare at him defiantly: “You have lacked in battle recently. I thought you might need to be… replenished.”

“And that was the only reason, was it?” As he leans closer to you, you step back, one, two, three steps until your back is pressed up against a tall fir tree. “You were worried about my… performance?”

“Yes,” you whisper. His lips are so close to yours you can feel his breath on your face. Your eyes flutter shut as you let your head fall to the side to expose your neck.

“Liar.” Astarion sounds amused by your weak attempts to defy him. “You missed me- you missed the way I make you feel.”

His lips descend onto your neck in a way that feels nearly like worship. You suppress a sigh at the sensation - gods, you have missed this more than you should have. He smells so good, despite the rough days you have been having, and the way his hands pull at you makes you shiver all over, tiny fire of desire exploding on your bare skin where he touches you.

“I was thinking…” he mumbles. “Your neck seems a bit… sore. Maybe we should grant you some reprieve.”

“I’m fine.” Your answer is too fast, and Astarion’s chuckle makes your heart beat faster.

“Of course you are, little pet. I’ve kept my promise after all, haven’t I?” His tongue flicks at the tiny scars his teeth have left in your neck and you bite your lip to cut off a moan. Your body quivers, though, your back arching for a split-second before you regain control. Astarion’s smile is audible in his voice. “Even if you don’t want to admit it, your body has missed me, my love. I think it’s time we stopped pretending, don’t you?”

“Stopped pretending what?” Your voice is breathless, and all you can do is hope that he might mean what you so desperately hope he means.

Astarion’s lips lift from the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Why, pretend you don’t want me, of course.” He says it like it is the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe, it is. “Pretend like you don’t need me just as much as I need you. Did you think you could hide how your pulse quickens when I touch you? The flush in your cheeks, your little breaths… Your body betrays you, little pet. You have been careful, my darling, but not as careful as you might think you have been. All those small noises you thought I couldn’t hear… tsk.”

He shakes his head. You chew on your lower lip, anxiously waiting for his reaction to your not so secret secret. A coppery taste floods your mouth and you realise you must have broken the skin of your lip by worrying it.

You raise your finger to wipe away the drop of blood, but your hand is caught by a pale one. Astarion inhales sharply, his body pressing up against you, his thigh slotting between yours as easily as if it had always belonged there. The rough bark of the tree presses into your back and you become acutely aware how trapped you are by Astarion’s arms in a way that turns the spark of arousal in your belly into a full blown fire.

Astarion’s thumb paints circles on the back of your hand as he stares at the drop of blood on your lip intently, hypnotised by the dark red sliver of pain against your skin.

His voice is gravelly in a way you have never heard before, and you shiver when he raises his hand to smear the blood until it covers your lips.

“Mhh.” He cocks his head. “That’s better, my love. Perfect rosy lips for my perfect little pet. Oh- don't look at me like that, darling, it’s alright. Does it hurt? Let me help you with that…”

It’s not a kiss, not really. His mouth meets yours desperately, licking at the small wound where your lip split. You tell yourself it’s not a kiss, but your body reacts like it is anyways. Your nerve endings light up in a fiery cascade of pleasure, and your hands fly up to Astarion’s waist, pulling him closer into you.

His tongue licks at you and your lips part easily, but he does not take the opportunity. Instead, he laughs quietly as he pulls back.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” He sounds content with himself in a way that would infuriate you if you were not so turned on right now.

You ashamedly stare down at your boots. And you nod.

Astarion’s finger tilts your chin up gently until you have to raise your head and look him in the eye.

“Don’t look away, my darling.” He strokes your cheek. “There is no need to be ashamed. You should have told me earlier that this was what you really wanted… mixing pleasure and pain is always a good idea, sweet thing.”

“I wasn’t- I mean, I didn’t-”

“Didn’t what? Don’t lie to me now, little pet. You know I can always tell.” His lips are so close to yours it feels like you can taste him already, his eyes dark and fiery even in the dim light of dusk. “What do you want? Be honest with me now.”

Your hands bury in his hair almost of their own volition, soft silver curls tangling between your fingers.

“Kiss me,” you whisper. “Please.”

You sound desperate, but you cannot bring yourself to care. Not as Astarion exhales, and closes the distance between you. His lips taste of your blood, bitter and coppery, but his tongue in your mouth is the sweetest honey. By the gods, he is good at what he does - soft noises falling from his mouth, his hard body pressing against you. His thumb rests against the pulse point of your neck, right where he left you scarred, and you feel like you are floating.

When he finally pulls back, you are both out of breath. His lips shimmer red from the blood on your own, and you can feel his desire - he looks at you like you are the most delicious meal he has ever seen after starving for years.

Maybe you are.

“Why did you bring me here?” he asks, his voice quiet and commanding. “What is it that you really desire, sweet thing?”

“I want you,” you admit, hating how your voice breaks even between those two words. “You may… need me, but I have come to realise I need you too. It’s not… you- I mean…”

“What is it, my darling? Use your words.” The gentle encouragement mixed with just the vaguest tint of mockery goes straight to your core and you curse your body for being so weak.

“I… I know this began as a favour,” you start, unsure of how to phrase what has been growing between you in such a short time. “But I… you know, it’s not just that anymore. Not for me. I… I like it.”

Your confession makes heat rise to your cheeks, and you bite your lip. Astarion stares at you, uncharacteristically lost for words, so you drone on.

“I like doing this for you- I like knowing I am helping you, I like knowing that you feel better- that you have become stronger because of me. I like seeing that your hands don’t shake so much anymore, and I like seeing you smile across the battlefield. It makes me happy- you make me happy. And you know, the pain fades after a while. I actually find it… quite… well, enjoyable. The way I feel when you drink from me… gods, Astarion, it’s indescribable.”

The flood of words spills from your lips like you have been holding it in for months, not days. Astarion still just stares at you, dumbfounded by your confession. Finally, he clears his throat.

“You… like it?” It sounds more like a question.

Gently, you take his hand into yours.

“Yes,” you confirm, smiling at him softly. “I’ve loved seeing you happy.”

“You- oh.” A plethora of emotions plays out on Astarion’s face in mere fractions of a second. You watch him intently. Finally, he clears his throat. “Well, I… I really don’t know how to respond to this. You, my love, are simply… incredible.”

Your smile grows broader.

“Why, thank you. I’m glad you finally noticed.”

A small smile appears on Astarion’s face at your teasing remark.

“I have been happier, haven’t I,” he muses. “I haven’t really… been happy in so long, I never noticed until you pointed it out.”

You worry your lip, but decide not to press him about it.

“I’m glad I can give you something,” you simply say. 

Astarion’s hand holds yours a little tighter.

“You give me more than I have ever dreamed of,” he murmurs. A devilish smile darkens his features as his eyes wander up and down your body. “I think it’s about time I give something back, don’t you think, my darling?”

༻────• ༻❁༺ •────༺

Previous Chapter « ❁ » Next Chapter [coming]

Hmmmm he is consuming my brain (much like the tadpole hshsh get it) ANYWAYS I am way too emotionally invested in him I support his evil. He has actively made me worse and I love him for it.

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#bg3 #astarion #astarion bg3 #bg3 smut #astarion x reader #astarion x you #gala writes #sugar series

[estrellami-1]

Don’t Let Go

“Fuck- oh, shit, Steve, what-” Robin collapses to the ground next to him, worried hands waving frantically around his body, unsure how to help. “Okay, okay, hey, it’s alright, take a breath, Steve, you’ll be okay.”

He retches again. Watches, detached, as red streaks into the bowl. “Oh, shit,” he hears Robin whisper. “That- that’s blood. Okay. Okay, this is fine, we’re okay. I don’t- I don’t really know how to help you, Steve, I’m trying to stay calm, I swear, but you know how easily I get worked up and-” she shuts her mouth and takes a few deep breaths. “Steve? Can I touch you?”

He tries to think about it. Tries to think about anything other than the memories flashing through his head. Nods.

She breathes out a shaky, grateful sigh. “Okay, good, that’s good, thank you. Um, I’m gonna- my hand. I’m gonna put it on your back, okay? I’m just gonna rub a bit. Just like this. Try to match your breathing, okay? When I rub up, you breathe in. When I rub down, you breathe out. No pressure, just nice, slow breaths, okay? Here, up, so in, breathe in. Now down, so breathe out. In, out. Easy does it, Steve-o, you’re alright.” She grabs a wad of toilet paper and brings it to Steve’s face. “Let’s clean you up a little, yeah? Any chance you wanna tell me what that was about?”

He lets her clean his face off, takes a shuddering breath, and bursts into tears.

“Oh, Jesus- okay, hey, alright, Steve, it’s okay. I’m right here. Is me touching you still okay?”

Her touching him is usually fine. He’d say always—if he could speak—but there have been times he’s reacted so unfavorably to her touch… it’s for the best she asks. Even if the majority of the time, the answer is yes.

The answer is yes tonight, as well, but words are too difficult when he’s trying not to drown in his own tears, so he tips sideways into her, lets her hold his weight up as she rubs his back and arm, comforting him. “That’s okay, Steve. It’s alright. We’re fine. I do think we should talk about this one, though, it hasn’t hit you that hard in a while. Which I know is kinda hypocritical, I mean I’ve slept over every night for like the last month in a row. So I get it. But I do think talking about it could be good. But, uh, we’ll wait a bit. Let you calm down some first.”

He does eventually calm down, at least enough to try to talk, and he does, disjointedly telling Robin about the nightmare. He doesn’t know where to start, and she shushes him. “Start with whatever you can. Baby steps. Small things, one at a time.”

He shudders. It’s not a small thing, the thing taking up every inch of his brain, it’s so big and consuming and taking over and- “So much,” he manages. “So much blood. Thought- thought it was mine. ‘N maybe some of it was, I dunno, but it was Dustin, a-and E-” he breaks off, heaves, manages to take a breath somehow, and the name doesn’t stick in his throat. “Eddie. I was- I was too late, Robs, too late, he was- I tried, I tried, there was so much blood, he- he looked at me and-”

Robin shushes him again, pulls him closer and wraps her arms around him, rocks them back and forth. “‘S alright, Steve, hey, take a breath, c’mon. One big one, I know you can, just one breath for me.”

He manages a medium-sized breath, enough to make Robin happy, enough to make the lump in his throat recede some, enough to let him finish. “He said it’s okay. That- that he didn’t expect me to save him- to care- and I- Robs. I- I kissed him.” He vaguely realizes he’s trembling.

“Oh, Steve,” she murmurs, rubbing her hand up and down his back again. “Can- can I ask if you’ve, uh, thought about that before?”

Steve sniffles, ducks his head, nods. “I’ve had a few dreams. Not nightmares. J-just, like, little things. Sitting together on the couch talking about nothing, going on dates, cuddling in bed and- I do want it, but Robs, I- I can’t, I can’t, he’s gone-” and Steve’s gone, collapsing into sobs again, not even hearing Robin as she’s trying to tell him something.

He notices when she moves away, and he lets her, because somewhere in his subconscious he remembers how she is about touch, and how sometimes it’s too much. So she moves away and he stays on the floor in the bathroom, sobbing.

She’s back a few minutes later, a comforting hand on his back. “Hey, Steve, shh, you’ve gotta calm down a little, which I know isn’t helpful but you’re gonna throw up again if you keep going, and then I’m gonna freak out even more, and then where’re we gonna be? We’re both gonna be freaking out and no help to each other. Hey, slow breaths, it’s alright, copy my hand again, yeah? Up and down, in and out, okay?”

She moves suddenly, says, “Oh, thank God you’re here, I’m useless, here,” and moves completely out of Steve’s space.

She moves back in again a second later, except it’s not Robin, the hands are different, bigger, and he stiffens up, lifts his head, and freezes when he sees who it is. “Eddie,” he breathes, and Eddie gives him a small smile.

“Hey, Steve. You doin’ alright?”

“Eddie,” Steve whispers again, so relieved he can’t bring himself to care about how he normally acts, just burrows into Eddie.

And Eddie lets him, opens his legs to give Steve a stable place to sit, lets Steve tuck his head in Eddie’s shoulder, even puts a hand on Steve’s head. “‘S alright,” he murmurs. “I don’t really know what you dreamed about but it’s okay, I swear, I’ve got some sort of idea it was about me but I’m fine, I swear, I’m okay, got a little chewed up but you got me out. We’re okay, we’re fine. I promise.” He rubs his other hand up and down Steve’s back, like Robin had been doing, and Steve does his best to follow the pattern, except Eddie’s rubbing his back a little too fast, and all he feels is the panic coming back.

Suddenly Eddie stops rubbing. “Oh- oh, Stevie, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, then continues rubbing, slower. “Robin told me you were trying to match your breathing to my hand rubbing your back. It’s a good idea, and I’m- I’m proud of you for initiating it. Here we go, nice and slow, in and out.”

Eventually Steve’s breathing slows back down enough for him to say something. “Sorry.”

Eddie hums. “What? Sorry? What for?”

“You havin’a come out here.”

“That’s not something you ever need to apologize for,” Eddie tells him seriously. “Hey. Can you look at me?”

Steve manages to lift his head and look Eddie in the eye for a few seconds. “There you are,” Eddie whispers with a soft smile. “It’s alright, Steve. I’ll always be here if you need me, m’kay? Now, how about we get off the bathroom floor?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, moving out of Eddie’s space and trying to stand, only to collapse again. “Fuck, sorry,” he mutters. “Legs’re asleep.”

“That’s alright, you’re not too heavy, c’mon, I gotcha. You wanna brush your teeth real quick?”

Steve notices the taste in his mouth for the first time and makes a face as he nods, moving with Eddie’s help over to the sink. “Grab on here,” Eddie says quietly. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“M’kay.” He brushes his teeth, looking down at the sink, hearing Eddie bustle around as he flushes the remainder of Steve’s nightmare and disappears back into the room for a moment, drawers opening and closing before Eddie make a reappearance, standing this side of too close. Steve welcomes it, finishes brushing his teeth and leans back into Eddie when he’s done. “Not sure I can sleep,” he murmurs, not looking in the mirror. He doesn’t want to confirm how he knows Eddie’s looking at him. He knows, if he meets Eddie’s eyes, he’ll see pity.

“D’you wanna try? Or just wanna head downstairs? We can watch shitty movies and make fun of the acting.”

He thinks about it. Thinks about laying back down, the dark creeping in, being unable to see Eddie even if he knows he’s looking directly at him. His breath sticks in his throat. “Dow- downstairs. Please.”

“M’kay. Wanna bring Robin?”

“No. She’s gotta shift t’morrow morning. Needs to sleep.”

“So do you,” Eddie murmurs, enough levity in his voice it doesn’t sound judgmental. “Wanna bring anything downstairs?”

Steve sighs as he tries to think. “Don’t think so.”

“Okay. You ready to go then?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t move.

“Stevie?”

“Yeah.” He takes a shuddering breath. “I don’t- I can’t-” he shakes his head, makes a bitten-off, frustrated noise. “Don’t wanna let go.”

“‘S okay. You don’t have to.” A hand appears in his field of view, palm-up, open and inviting. He takes it. “Is this enough for now? Till we get downstairs?”

Steve thinks about it, then nods, squeezing once as Eddie steps away, leaving their hands linked. “Sorry,” he mutters again, even though he knows Eddie’s going to tell him to stop apologizing. “Dunno why I’m like this.”

Eddie chuckles softly. “Pretty sure you get a free pass to act like this as much as you want, Stevie. You’ve been through hell more’n anyone ever should.” He tugs on their joined hands, a small smile hovering on his lips. “And quit apologizing.”

“No promises,” Steve says instead of what he wants to. I’m like this because it was you. Because I love you. Because I’m too much of a coward to say anything.

Eddie stills like he hears it all anyways. All he does is wrap his free hand around Steve’s wrist, gripping for a moment before releasing him, gently tugging him out of the bathroom.

Robin’s sitting up in bed, lamp on, waiting for him. He feels bad, but still too shaken up to release Eddie. “Sorry for keeping you up.”

She glances over at Eddie with a flick of her eyebrows, and he snickers as she looks back at Steve. “Don’t apologize, dingus. I’m glad you’re okay. I’ll see you in the morning?”

He nods, tries to smile. “Love you, Robbie.”

“Gross,” she says with a smile, but grabs his free hand as they walk by. “Love you too.”

They get downstairs and Eddie stops by the TV. “Wanna watch something?”

Steve thinks about it. Thinks about the movies he owns, the way he’s feeling, and shakes his head. “Want some water.”

Eddie chuckles. “Probably should’ve been my first thought. Whaddya wanna do after?”

Steve shrugs. “Just… don’t wanna be alone.”

Eddie looks at him for a long moment before pulling him into a hug. He realizes, as his nose mashes into Eddie’s shoulder, he’d been curling into himself. “C’mon,” Eddie murmurs. “Water then couch, m’kay?”

Steve nods, wrapping his hands around Eddie’s waist, letting his eyes close as he tucks his face into the juncture of Eddie’s neck and shoulder. His hair tickles Steve’s forehead. He doesn’t move, just relaxes, tightening his hold when Eddie starts to move them.

“Gotta move for a second,” Eddie murmurs eventually. “Can’t drink the water with your face mushed into my neck. And the last thing you want right now is a dehydration headache.”

Steve knows he’s right, can already feel the tightening that means a headache is coming on, and reluctantly untangles himself, holding out a hand for the glass. It wobbles dangerously when it’s in his grip, and Eddie’s hand comes back to wrap around the glass, overlapping Steve’s fingers, steadying him. “Easy does it,” he murmurs, guiding the glass up to Steve’s lips. “A little at a time.”

Steve drinks slowly, allowing Eddie to take the glass after a few sips, only for him to put it down and pick something else up. A pill, he sees when Eddie brings his hand closer, and he’s at least steady enough to hold that and slip it into his mouth, and by the time he does Eddie’s got the water back up by his face again. “Thank you,” Steve murmurs eventually, instead of the I’m sorry that wants to come out.

Eddie smiles, small and fond. “My pleasure. Couch?”

Steve nods, so they walk over together, Eddie placing the water on the side table before arranging them on the couch. He sits down first, then tugs Steve almost on top of him, a gentle hand on his neck guiding Steve’s head back to his shoulder.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Eddie’s fingers running up and down Steve’s spine, before he breaks the silence. “Wanna tell me what happened? All Birdie said was you had a nightmare and thought I was, uh. Gone.”

Steve heaves a sigh. “That’s pretty much it. You and Dustin, but you especially, and I… I dunno. And it wasn’t even one of those dreams that made sense, or anything, it’s just all of a sudden there I was, and there was so much blood, and I think some of it was mine but I was fine, Dustin was in bad shape but was gonna make it, but you…” he shakes his head. “Told me you didn’t expect me to save you, didn’t think I’d care, and that was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard you say so I kissed you, and you… you died. Didn’t say anything. Just… there one second, gone the next, like I had killed you.”

“Well,” Eddie says, “I can definitely see how that would’ve freaked you out. Especially given that you’re straight. Which! Is not the point. Sorry. Um.”

Steve shrugs. “Not really. Um. Straight, that is.”

Eddie freezes. “No?”

“No.” Steve shifts away, hates the feeling of Eddie’s hand slipping off his back, but hates the thought of Eddie being uncomfortable because of him even more. “I like both. Um. Like Bowie? Robin told me that’s a thing.”

Eddie chuckles. “That it is, Stevie. Thanks for telling me.”

Steve shoots him a look. “You’re okay with it?”

Eddie frowns. “It would be kinda hypocritical of me to not be, wouldn’t it?”

Steve waves a hand around. “Not that. The fact that I like you, and had a dream that freaked me out and you came over and oh my god, all of that was false pretenses, wasn’t it, fuck, I’m sorry, Eddie, I swear I wasn’t thinking about that, the- the dream really did freak me out, and I-”

“Steve,” Eddie says, putting a hand on his forearm. “Hey. Calm down before you spiral into another panic attack, alright? It’s fine. Doesn’t bother me in the least.” He lets out a breathless chuckle. “Actually, I guess that would be kinda hypocritical of me, too.”

Steve blinks. “What would?”

“Me freaking out about you liking me.” He stares for a moment before looking away, huffing a laugh and shaking his head. “I had the most unfortunate crush on you in high school. Admittedly, then it was purely based on looks. But then Spring Break from hell happened, and I learned you’re actually a really good guy, and the crush transitioned into something more than just surface-level.” He holds out a hand, palm up, waiting for Steve.

Steve stares at it, then lifts his gaze to Eddie’s face. “You… like me?”

“I do.”

A shy smile begins to grow on Steve’s face as he ignores Eddie’s outstretched hand in favor of leaning back in, setting his head back on Eddie’s shoulder and sliding his arm around Eddie’s waist. He smiles as Eddie chuckles and wraps an arm around his back. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?” Steve asks quietly. “About what we want to do and be?”

“We can wait as long as you want,” Eddie promises. “Just as long as tonight, we can stay right here.”

Steve giggles quietly. “Deal.” He’s silent for a few seconds before the giggles start again. “Robin’s gonna be so pissed I got a boyfriend before she got a girlfriend.”

Permanent Taglist:

@justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove

Side note, I may be convinced to do a part 2 to this if anyone wants it… I don’t know what that part 2 would entail but if y’all want it (or anything really, my asks are always open) let me know! Thanks for reading! ❤️

#stranger things #steddie #pre steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #nightmares #tw nightmares #tw vomit #because of the aforementioned nightmares #panic attacks #steve harrington has ptsd #they all do but this specifically is about him #starambles

[nervousd]

Infatuation — prologue

→ Infatuation | m.list

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#SYNOPSIS— Recom Miles gets a briefing from his predecessor

#WARNING(S)— possessive behavior, unhealthy obsession, abuse of power, dark quaritch, yandere, stalking

#CHARACTER(S)— colonel miles quaritch, Recom! Miles Quaritch

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝ In case you haven’t figured it out yet you’re Colonel Miles Quaritch. Only younger, taller and not nearly as good looking— what you won’t remember is my death because it hasn’t happened and it ain’t gonna— And if you are watching this it means I did get my ticket punched. Well whatever happens if your any clone of mine you’ll be looking for some payback that would be Jake Sully he’ll be the top of the list. But he ain’t the reason why I’m making this video log— no. We have more important matters to discuss ❞

Miles tail flicked agitated, he knew exactly who he was talking about. You were constant in this memories, haunting him ins his dreams with feathery touches and whispers.

❝ You see Jake sully took something from me. It belonged to me— and I’m not keen on sharing. No— the thought of even sharing her with you doesn’t sit right with me. You listen to me Colonel, if anything does happen to me than it’ll be your job to bring her back to me. I want her buried beside me in my grave— I rather have her dead than alive ❞ a slow grin curled up the corner of his lips ❝ What’s that sayin again? Not even death can do us part— yeah I like that ❞

He had a vague understanding of the Colonel’s infatuation with you. His memories were still fuzzy— incomplete. The scientist assured him that his memories will come back, bits and pieces. He remembers the basics of who he is but the most prominent memories were of you. His first contact with you. A small chance encounter and he was smitten, you however seemed to be uncomfortable near him. Walking on egg shells whenever he was around— not that his predecessor noticed. No— he was far too preoccupied daydreaming about you and the countless possibilities that could happen.

An immense portion of miles heart ached for you. You— a woman he’s never laid his eyes on had bewitched him. It was an odd feeling— to feel incomplete; to feel like a part of him was missing. This feeling would only escalate during sleepless nights when the cold crept up on his skin— he yearned for the warmth of your skin. But he wasn’t here to rekindle a past romance — no he was here to kill Jake Sully and bury you beside the Colonel. However, at one point his curiosity got the best of him and decided to do a throughout search of information in the RDA database. You were considered traitorous, to be taken alive if found. He scrolled through your profile finding old video logs.

When browsing through the logs, he heard your voice and his ears perked up. He stared at you with wide eyes, ears pointed toward your voice. Your eyes shone brightly as you rambled on about the various species of na'vi that lived on Pandora while making wide gestures. Your rant came to an end— instead you grimaced at a booming voice interrupting you ❝ Buttercup— the Colonel wants to see you ❞ It was his Corporal— Lyle Wainfleet. Miles tail flicked in annoyance, his gut twisted uncomfortably. A rumble vibrated through his chest as he expressed his annoyance.

From his scarce memories, he recalls that he typically sent Lyle to pick you up from the scientist, ready to hear about your report on the relationship with the na'vi. To see if there were any improvements or downfalls etc. However, this was just an excuse; he never actually paid attention to the report. No, he was far too busy ogling at you. Miles scowled, he wondered just how many times Lyle had referred to you with pet names. An unfamiliar feeling scratched at his chest. The video log abruptly ended, probably on your way to go meet his predecessor.

Miles huffed, tail slapping against the ground. It wasn’t enough— as much as he ached to hear your voice he felt the need to have your presence beside him. The only possibly way he could find you is by catching Jake Sully and taking the information from him. But you weren’t his— you were to be buried beside his predecessor; orders from him. Just a small moment— a minute of having you to himself and that would be enough to state him.

━━━ : © NERVOUS.D

#avatar #yandere avatar the way of water #avatar the way of water x reader #colonel quaritch x reader #recom miles quaritch #navi quaritch #Recom quaritch #miles Quaritch #dark quaritch #dark colonel miles quaritch #dark Recom miles #yandere quaritch #yandere miles quaritch