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infictionalwonderland · 16 days

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I NEED PART TWO OF THE MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N L/N!

. . . MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N Y/L/N FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT! (part2)

You cackled to yourself after sending the message into your groupchat, quickly returning to the video and beginning to play it again, occasional bursts of giggles slipping through your lips.

Resuming your place in the video—the first clip that began playing was actually from not that long ago at all. It was You, Kat Dennings, Elizabeth Olsen and Zendaya at Taylor Swifts Eras Tour (an experience you would genuinely never forget). Taylor was playing Lover and, in the clip, Kat had your face in one hand and the other wrapped around your waist, bringing you close to her body.

“Lover, can I go where you go—“ Kat sang with Taylor, singing all the lyrics to you and grinning at you, faces inches away from each other. “—Can we always be this close.” She punctuated this lyric with giving you an eskimo kiss.

You smiled sincerely at the memory.

The next clip began up, it was you and Chris Evans doing Playground Insults with BBC Radio 1: the two of you were sat opposite each other, knees touching, Chris was grinning goofily at you, giddy laughs escaping him as you tried to remain straight faced.

“—we’re here with Chris Evans and Y/N Y/L/N.” The presenters introduced.

“And we’re about to play Playground Insults . . Now Chris and Y/N are sat opposite each other,” the camera cut to you and Chris, him smiling largely and you looking away to contain your own, “the atmosphere is very tense.”

“We’ve done this quite a few times now but im thinking.. this is the biggest movie of the year, let’s make this the biggest playground insults we’ve ever done.”

“Yep.” Chris nodded, trying not to laugh.

“Chris, hun. . you’re ugly. Like, plain ugly.” You nodded seriously, immediately setting off as you feigned a pained wince to the words. “Everyone’s been talking about it. . just, you’re so atrocious to look at. Honestly, I almost feel arse over tits in horror when I saw you.”

Chris opened his mouth to say something but then faltered and pouted, “no matter how good of an actor I am, I could never even get those words out my mouth about you and make them sound genuine. Seriously.”

The third clip started—it was Chris Hemsworth on a carpet, a bold colourful question at the bottom said ‘WHO HAS THE MOST FANS?’. Chris immediately said, “Y/n.” In that deep Australian accent of his. “Not that I blame the people from choosing her to be the people’s queen, she is truly one of a kind. You’ll only ever meet one Y/n in your lifetime, cherish it. The fans have the right idea.”

It changed to Scarlett with the same colourful question at screen and at the same carpet event: “Oh, Yeah. Y/n, one hundred percent.” She chuckled huskily. “That woman has fans upon fans and seriously, I’m one of them. She is something else.” She grinned, winking at the camera.

After Scarlett, Paul Rudd came onto your screen in the very same clip. “Oh! The legend herself, Y/N Y/L/N.” Paul answered brightly, smiling. “The amount of fans she has is unbelievable—well, it’s definitely believable for someone like her, so, not really unbelievable..”

The forth clip began—it was you all playing Family Feud with Jimmy Kimmel, on his live show. Sebastian and RDJ were currently facing off; Jimmy posed the question “what, other than the sun, are some of the hottest things to exist?”

Sebastian got to the buzzer faster than Robert managed to and didn’t even falter or hesitate as he answered straight away, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

The audience immediately screamed laughed and shrieked in delight, RDJ just nodded his head in understanding and appreciation, clapping his hands. Chris Evans, Mark and Anthony on the other side all looked amused but ultimately accepting (Chris was nodding along almost subconsciously). You were on the other team, looking heavenward with a faint exasperated grin and Scarlet wrapped her arm around your waist, Chris Hemsworth smirking at you both.

The fifth clip started up: it was a behind the scenes shot from Endgame, the big final battle. You were currently in the middle of doing your own stunt, green screen behind you and harnesses strapped to you as you dangled at a halfway point in the air. Your arms and hands were positioned in such a way to show your character manipulating her powers—the position also very much enhanced your chest, with the added help of your superhero attire. You looked hot, even you could admit.

The camera mirthfully panned to some of the rest of the cast who all stood aside while you filmed your scene—said cast being Chris Evans, Tom Holland, Gwyneth Paltrow, RDJ, Elizabeth Olsen and Tessa Thompson. All of their eyes were fixated on you, Robert was the only one grinning in amusement (and awe) while all the others stared at you as though you hung the sun yourself.

“Boobies.” Lizzie giggled faintly, her eyes stuck. The rest of the cast watching dumbly nodded while the crew cracked up behind the cameras.

And if you screenshotted their dumbfounded faces looking ip at on screen you. . well that was your business.

The clip changed. It was now Karen Gillan being interviewed on some carpet event, looking genuinely breathtaking. The interviewer was asking, “—obviously, your friend and co-star Y/N Y/L/N has been in lots of iconic movies. . what is your favourite scene of hers in The Wolf of Wall Street?”

Karen paused with a cheeky little smile, giving the interviewer a a jokingly incredulous look. “Come on.” She simply said. “It’s a bloody no brainer, I’m certain it was Leonardo’s favourite scene too. . I hope it is anyway otherwise he’s a silly, silly man.”

At the same carpet event with the same interviewer, Chris Hemsworth was being interviewed—his wife, Elsa, on his arm and looking half ready to battle off any rude interviewers (queen).

“—what is your favourite scene of hers in Ocean’s 8?”

“All of them!” Elsa answered eagerly, grinning. “Her outfits really accentuated her personality and I enjoyed them very much so. Particularly her outfit for the gala. . the amount of accentuated personality, by gosh, it had me speechless.”

Chris turned her head, obviously trying not to laugh at his wife.

“Nunca he estado más celoso y agradecido por la ropa en mi vida.” Elsa hummed.

You blinked.

The clip changed to you, Sebastian, Lizzie, Paul, Jeremy and Jimmy all on his Tonight Show playing Musical Beers. The slightly unnerving music/beat played in the background while you all stalked around the circle, Paul and Jeremy already out—leaving you, Seb, Lizzie and Jimmy.

As you were all racing around the circular table, Lizzie very obviously swatted your ass and you were impressed with your own body as you watched that impact: the audience erupted into laughs and shrieks, Jimmy playfully covering his eyes as Seb smirked. You thought that would be the end of the clip, but no.

The very disco-esk tune briefly cut out and past time you thought that meant it stopped completely and you’d already reached for the red cup in front of you and chugged it’s contents, only to pause as the music began back up.

“Spit it back! Spit it back!”

You did just that—but when the music actually stopped and Seb was left standing in front of the cup with your (let’s not go there) in it, your mouth popped open in shock. Jeremy gladly backed away from the table in hysterics, Lizzie and Jimmy equally as amused.

“Oh my god, I am—“

Sebastian quickly downed the cup with. . those contents, not even looking all that perturbed.

“So sorry.” You finished, mouth agape.

You vaguely remembered a conversation you’d had with him after the show, sincerely and repeatedly apologising and he was just very, very amused with you. He didn’t seem to mind at all—what an odd man.

“It’s all good.” Sebastian chuckled lowly, wrapping the mortified looking past you in a one armed shoulder hug and squeezing you to him. Lizzie seemed to be trying to trade a very obvious eye message with you—the audience shrieked and screamed in the background.

Another clip began: its was you and Scarlett Johansson doing a trust fall thing, you thought (correctly).

“Scarlett I swear. .” You giggled, looking over your shoulder at the woman behind you—she grinned back at you amusedly, her eyes twinkling.

“Calm down.” She laughed herself. “I’ll catch you don’t worry, gorgeous.”

Still slightly overcome with nervous giggles, you turned and let out a breath as you shut your eyes before holding at your arms and falling back.

And catch you she definitely did—although her hands didn’t exactly land in a PG-13 area, you cackled as you watched her hands grope at your chest to pull you up. In the video, you were also wheezing as were the crew and Scarlett had a cheeky little smirk as she laughed.

When you were finally standing, she gave one last squeeze before finally letting go—on screen you was breathless with giggles.

“Always wanted to do that.” She shrugged simply with a large amused smile.

The next clip began—it was Zendaya and Tom Holland on LADBible, playing that how much do you agree or not game. The statement said was ‘Y/N Y/L/N is everyone‘s celebrity crush’.

Instantly, Tom and Zendaya moved their cups to strongly agree, both of them nodding in solid agreement with the statement: presently, you awed at your friends, ego very much boosted. Well. To be fair, all of this video was massively boosting your ego.

“I mean, come on.” Zendaya made a ‘duh’ face and shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s Y/N.” Tom smiled crookedly, adding onto her comment.

“I am so happy I get to now say that she’s one of my closest friends.” Zendaya beamed genuinely. “She’s—one of those people whose beauty isn’t just an external thing, she’s so lovely man.” She pouted, in awe of you.

Watching the video, you beamed back at her.

The clip changed: Mark Ruffalo was on the Graham Norton show, next to Nicki Minaj and an actor you couldn’t place.

“Who would you say your favourite co-star has ever been, Mark?” Graham inquired.

“I—i would probably have to go with Y/N—“ The crowd instantly erupted into cheers and yells and Nicki smiled next to him, stating that she loved you under the sound of cheering. Mark grinned back at her, mumbling ‘me too’.

“Yeah, she’s a hell of an actress, that one. So easy to work with. Funny as f—hell, she’s just—an extremely genuine and kind person, and she really brings the energy on set.” Mark grinned. “..she’s also the only free pass my wife has ever given me. Which I won’t be using! Because I don’t believe in cheating, it’s scummy! Even though she’s gorgeous—anyone would be lucky!” He had to rise to a shout at the end as the audience erupted.

Nicki giggled next to him, “me personally, I would use that pass.”

You gasped in laughter as you watched the screen, screen-recording it all so you could go back and watch it. Saving it to your folder titled PISSING MY PANTS HRLP

The clip changed yet again, showing a scene from the Winter Solider BTS. You and Sebastian were filming a scene where he had to shoot your character—you watched the ‘Winter Solider’ shoot your character multiple times making you go down with an agonised yell, crawling away from him.

As soon as CUT was yelled, Sebastian’s face dropped from his stone cold (wintery) expression and he raced to you, crouching next to you. He practically tugged you into his lap on the floor, holding you.

“Oh my fuck that—that just felt so real, Y/n. You know I would never hurt you right?” He asked, blinking repeatedly before a small smirk fell on his lips. “You’re way too pretty to injure doll. Can’t ruin your perfect face.”

On screen you huffed in mock anger, hiding an amused grin as you shoved at him—he still held you close to him though, so both of you fell backwards and burst into giggles.

You literally thought ‘I ship them’ as you watched the clip of Sebastian and yourself, forgetting that was you for a moment.

Another clip started up—another behind the scenes. It was you and Tom Hiddleston in Thor : Ragnarok. In the scene Loki was tied down to the chair and your character was meant to intimidate him—you watched yourself take out your character’s daggers and lean forward into his space. One leg leaned up on top of the arm of the chair, sliding one dagger just a hair above the skin of his neck while using the over the move his chin up to be angled to you as you mockingly smiled down at him.

You said your line as your character but Tom remained silent, mouth parted and eyes widened as he gazed up at you—speech failing him. (You knew that they actually decided to include this awestruck look in the movie—the amount of fucking edits you’d seen was unreal).

Eyebrows crinkling you nudged your knee into his chest and he snapped out of it, grabbing your knee in a gentle grip. “Sorry darling, words sometimes seem to fail me in your presence.” He muttered rather hoarsely, still staring up at you.

“I don’t fucking blame him.” Tessa Thompson murmured from behind you both, and the camera moved to show her staring at you in a similar awe.

Present time, you could barely hide your smirk. Literally the biggest ego boost. Of all time.

Again, the clip changed and it was now Natalie Portman looking gorgeous on a carpet event, being interviewed—“if you could have Jane explore another romance than Thor, who would it be and why?”

“Y/N!” Natalia enthused immediately. “Well—her character, but like. Both. Either. One for me, one for Jane. That—would be great. And why? Come on! She’s an absolutely beautiful woman, inside and out. She has this outward glow that you literally cannot and don’t want to look away from and that reflects so much in her personality—once you’ve interacted with her one time, you never want to stop. Ever. I’m not kidding.” She giggled.

Another clip started up quickly—a blooper of you and Chris Evans. In this scene, your characters were meant to kiss after an angsty, angry argument. You stormed into the frame, into the bedroom, completely in character—an angry expression on and ready to go at Steve.

Before you could even let out a single syllable to begin your lines, Chris immediately surged forward and took your face in his hands, kissing the living daylights out of you.

You both pulled back after a bit and you just started at him, questioningly (that kiss was probably one of your best ever, let it be known, Chris Evans was a fantastic kisser).

“I—I thought It’d be good for the scene. .” Chris trailed off bashfully, scratching the base of his neck, literally pulling the excuse out of his arse. In actuality, he hadn’t wanted to spare a moment of the scene where he could be kissing you, well, not doing so.

“Bull!” Scarlett exclaimed as she materialised in the doorway. “He just wanted to kiss you.” She told you, pointedly looking at the man.

“Yeah—i—“ He huffed a defeated sigh, pink-cheeked. “I’ve got nothing. She’s right.”

In hindsight, you thought to yourself, you should probably stop being so shocked when the fanbase starts shipping you with your costars.

The clip changed: now it was you, Elizabeth and Aaron on a carpet event together—all being interviewed at the same time.

“So, Y/n, how does it feel to be in a Maximoff twin sandwich right now?” The interviewer giggled happily, smiling.

Before you could open you’re mouth—“we’re really enjoying it.” Lizzie and Aaron replied at the same time.

The interview gaped and you simply rolled your eyes as the two smirked at either side of you, they’d been talking in sync ever since you’d first met them at the table reading.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t why?” Aaron grinned crookedly. “A beautiful, lovely woman in between us. Honestly, love, there’s not a thought in my head besides you.” He joked, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“I completely support that.” Lizzie chirped in, “ever since I’ve met this gorgeous lady who i now acknowledge as my partner in everything—she’s taken up all of the room in my brain, and I couldn’t be happier.” She giggled, putting her arm around your waist.

In the middle of them both, with an arm over your shoulder and one around your waist—you simply sighed, sparing the giddy interviewer an exaggerated suffering expression.

Again, the clip switched—it was now another blooper of you in the Iron Man movie, the scene where you handed Tony’s arse to him in the boxing ring. Instead of acting as scripted, Gwen Paltrow got up from her seat and strode over to the boxing ring, stepping inside gracefully and planting one right on your lips.

Presently, you giggled as you thought back to this moment. Gwen was your impulsive queen. Your idol.

From the floor, RDJ squawked in shock, exclaiming about being cheated and betrayed and Gwen flung her stiletto off her foot at him without moving from your lips.

When she finally did, she simply smiled at you kindly, “you just looked so good that I couldn’t not kiss you, sweets.” She shrugged and you, on screen, laughed at her as you leaned back in to kiss her cheek.

(Unfortunately the scene was not included in the movie—but Gwen never wasted an opportunity to talk about it, and you, if the chance arose).

The clip moved onto another one—back to the Thor : Ragnarok movie, you and Heimdall were fighting together, however you missed a step in your stunt and ended up stumbling. Idris immediately caught you with a steady arm around your waist, full you to him so you could stabilise yourself.

You smiled up at him thankfully, squeezing his arm in gratitude (totally not because you’d just wanted to feel his bicep).

You watched as your on screen self get distracted again and Idris murmured to Tom who’d now appeared next to him, “I feel like it’s dishonourable how much I want her to fall so I can catch her again now.”

“Mate, trust me,” Tom laughed, “I completely understand. But she doesn’t need the rescuing.”

“That she does not.” Both men smiled fondly as they watched you.

Presently, you were actively refusing to blush.

A different clip started up—Florence Pugh was being interviewed, looking breathtaking in her green dress. “—did you take anything from set?” The interviewer was asking, smiling at Florence.

“Um—not much, just Y/n’s heart.” Florence immediately cracked up at her own joke, smiling widely. “And her underwear too.” She added.

The interviewer opened her mouth to say something more, giggling at Florence as she continued speaking: “and before you ask, no. I wouldn’t be selling, for any price. Finders keepers and all that shite—plus, she’s my girl, so. That rule applies even more so. No one else can take her heart. Or her pants.”

Watching your friend, you giggled at her cheesy smile at her words before getting distracted by your group chat, where multiple of your friends and co-starts had seen your message and were now responding. Your laughter increased tenfold as you opened the thread.

#marvel cast x reader #marvel cast #avengers #the avengers imagine #avengers x reader #famous reader #chris evans x reader #sebastian stan imagine #chris evans imagine #sebastian stan x reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland #chris evans #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #actress reader

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sweetiecutie · 6 months

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🖤Fuck or Die part 2🖤

Part 1

Pairing: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, mdni, smut, non con so rape, violence, obsession, drugging, face-slapping and nose bleeding, choking, kidnapping, mention of murder. If you feel triggered by any of these warnings - just scroll past!

A/n: this took me way longer than I expected but yay, I finally wrote the second part!!! Also absolutely not me incorporating a quote from the movie bc I think it’s impossibly hot🤭

Reading part 1 is recommended for understanding the plot

Your life will never be the same. That damned evening changed you, everything around you, splitting your life into before and after.

Your memories of next few days after the murder were a sheer blur of events and conversations - numerous interrogations with police officers and detectives, psychologists trying to soothe you out of your stupor still, your mother crying her eyes out at the sight of you right after police arrived at the place of Paul’s death. And, of course, nasty journalists trailing behind you, watching your every move, invading your personal space unapologetically.

Of course, you were quite a catch - the first and only one who ever survived a meeting with König. Everyone wanted to know what he looked like - any particular details, scars or tattoos, a fucking skin colour - anything you could remember would be of huge use, giving at least any clues to a dead unmoving case. But there was very little you could help with - König took great care of covering every centimetre of his skin in black clothing, his voice changed, he smelled of nothing but earth and sickening metal of your boyfriend’s blood. Bastard was even smart enough to not cum inside nor anywhere actually, so that police couldn’t get his DNA samples.

A few months had passed since that horrific attack and there were still no traces of König.

It was midday when your parents had to leave to attend your grandma’s birthday - your mother was reluctant, not wanting to leave you all alone. You were never alone actually - a few police cars always patrolled right outside of your house, not allowing even postmen to get too close to your family’s property. It took a lot of reassuring and encouragement from your side to get your mother off your back, convincing her that you’ll be just fine by yourself and that you want your parents to have some fun. She then gave up with a deep sight, promising to be back in only a few hour’s matter.

You heaved a heavy sigh, closing and locking the front door after waving your parents goodbye, heading to the kitchen to grab yourself a drink. A pile of dirty dishes stacked in a sink caught your eye, the sight of its ugly mess on otherwise clean and tidy kitchen caused an itch somewhere deep in your brain. Without second thought you rolled up your sleeves, pouring dish soap onto the sponge and foaming it up.

As you were halfway through the dishes loud trilling of your landline phone calling startled you, causing you to jump on your spot. Your head whipped around, looking into direction from which the sound came. Wiping your wet hands on the kitchen towel you grabbed the phone, tucking it in between your ear and shoulder after accepting the incoming call.

- Hello? - you said, coming back to the sink, swiping foamy sponge over another plate, cleaning it of any grease and leftover bits of food.

- Hello! Um, can I speak to Paul? - your movements halted abruptly. You stood there silently for a long while, muscles stiff and unmoving, eyes staring blankly at some invisible point in the space before you.

- Excuse me, are you still here? Do I have the wrong number? - the man on the other end of the line said, his voice sounding concerned. It seemed to bring you out of your stupor as you drew in a long breath, exhaling noisily.

- Um, can I ask you how you got this number? - you said, already sensing something weird about this whole situation. But cops were all around your place, there was nothing to be worried about, right?

- Paul gave it to me himself. Said to call here if I needed to reach out to him, - man explained. That was strange but not unexplainable - Paul often hang out at your house, you wouldn’t be surprised if he knew your home phone number better than his own. - So am I calling right?

- Oh, yeah, sorry it’s just… Paul’s dead, - you said, teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek, sweet metallic taste coating your buds, but you couldn’t care less, nibbling deeper into small wound, feeling of slight pain grounding you successfully.

- Oh god, what happened? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. But who am I speaking to then? - the man said, his voice now sounding genuine and apologetic. Everyone around Y/n suddenly sounded genuinely and apologetic. She heaved another sigh, resuming her scrubbing on the plates.

- He was murdered. And I’m his girlfriend, - you said in a calm tone, free of any emotion or feeling. Paul’s death was pretty much the only thing you talked about with others - police, detectives, police again, his parents and friends, your parents and friends. It seemed like such a sensitive topic turned into a rough callous way too quickly. - Well, I was his girlfriend, - Y/n mumbled after a short pause, faint clatter of porcelain audible in the background.

- Sorry about your boyfriend, - man on the line said. There was a brief moment before he added: - all those muscles didn’t help much, did they?

You froze. Silence settled in, interrupted only by occasional electric noise humming through the speaker. You heard your own pulse humping rapidly in your ears, your breathing fast and shallow, all muscles in your body tensing in alarm, straightening your back. Your eyes shoot up, looking out of the window above the sink. There were a few trees growing shallowly - barely an orchard - separating your house from your neighbours. No one was there.

- What’s that, sweet girl? You can’t see me? - a voice taunted, erupting herds of goosebumps running down your spine. - What a shame, I can see you clear as day.

- Neighbourhood is packed full with cops, you sick son of a bitch. If you only fucking dare coming anywhere close to my ho-

- Now-now, Y/n, - slasher interrupted you unapologetically, his voice hard and cold, causing thin hairs on your arms to rise. - Control your fucking language when you speak to me.

Your eyes dropped down onto the sink, fluffy dish soap foam was sparkling, playing with all the rainbow colors under the sun rays pouring in through the window. You clasped the phone in your non dominant hand, your dominant one reaching out and grabbing a kitchen knife from the drying rack, handle still wet and a bit slippery in your grasp.

- My, my, a dangerous thing that you’re holding. Be careful and don’t cut yourself, dearie, - König taunted, making your teeth clench. All blood drained out of your face, making you as pale as paper. Your eyes were fixated upon your window, peering into the orchard, desperately trying to spot any movement.

- What are you planning on doing? Everyone will hear if I scream. And cops will get your ass into prison, right where it belongs, - you spat out, pushing off the counter; your eyes ran all around the kitchen, looking for your cell phone with detective’s number saved, trying to keep the current call going so it’ll be possible to track it down.

- Oh will they? Then you better not scream, silly, - König snorted, making your blood boil. You were frightened still, terrified even; but the remorse of what he did to you, to Paul, was fuelling into your spite, making you a tad bit braver.

Failing to find your phone you entered the living room, rummaging through cushions and blankets piled on the couch, failing to find the stupid thing.

- Looks like you lost something. What’s up sweetheart? - you threw soft cushion back on the couch violently, huffing in annoyance upon not finding what you were looking for. You straightened and turned around to head to your bedroom, stoping in the middle of your tracks, freezing to the spot.

In the doorway leading to the hall stood König - dressed in all black, with heavy leather boots and his huge dagger strapped firmly to his thigh with a sheath, white scream mask staring right back at you. One large hand was pressing the phone to his ear, the other one was holding up your cellphone - the exact one you were looking for.

- You looking for this? - he asked, his own voice reverberating on the line because of your proximity.

You threw the phone to the side clutching onto the knife tightly. You dashed to the kitchen - there was a back door you could slip through - and outside was filled with neighbours and cops. Just pathetic six or so meters. Just a bit…

A scream tearing through your throat was muffled by a huge hand clamping against your mouth, the other one squeezing your wrist so tightly that for a fleeting moment you thought your bones were snapped, causing your grip on the knife to loosen, it falling down on the floor with loud clatter. König kicked the knife away across the kitchen, folding your arm back which caused your back to arch in pain - it felt as if he wanted to tear your limb from the rest of your body.

- Where do you think you’re going, Y/n? - König growled next to your ear, picking you up effortlessly and dragging your kicking form back to the living room.

Hauling you onto the floor König hooked one meaty thigh over your squirming body, putting bigger part on his weight down onto you, momentarily halting all of your struggle. One huge hand took ahold of both your wrists, pinning them to the floor above your head with frightening ease, his other hand was clasping your mouth still. He crouched down, scream mask was mere fifteen centimetres afar from your face as he seethed:

- Now you shut the fuck up and listen closely to what I have to say, and no one will get hurt, you get that? - he said, waiting until you gave him any sing of agreement. But you offered none. - You get that?! - König growled impatiently, bumping your head against the hardwood floor, causing black spots dance in the corners of your eyes for a long minute. You gave a weak nod, feeling hot tears running down your temples, getting lost among your hair.

- I’ve been thinking about you. A lot, - König sighed, hand that was on your face squished your cheeks together painfully, making your lips pucker out. - About this gorgeous mouth and pretty lips…

König crouched down, barely leaving a few centimetres between your faces.

- A this tight little cunt of yours. Remember how you clenched around me? How good my cock was filling you up?

- What do you want from me? - you weeped quietly, voice barely audible, broken by faint sobs and hiccups.

- Very little, dove. Just be an obedient girl and do as you’re told and no one will get hurt, - König tutted, taking in the sight of your crying face. Gosh, he was a sick fuck - his cock was already getting painfully hard, straining against his pants.

Letting go of your face König reached behind his back, withdrawing something from the rear pocket of his jeans. Just as you opened your mouth to cry out for help he shoved that thing inside of your cavity, slapping a hand over your lips so you won’t spit it out. The thing momentarily dissolved on your tongue, leaving a bitter aftertaste; you tried to struggle against killer’s strong hold, thrashing violently, but it led you nowhere.

Suddenly you felt hot - as if you had a really bad fever. Your mind clouding up rapidly, thoughts muddling, muscles becoming weaker by the second. You huffed out in frustration; moving your limbs a few centimetres seemed like impossible labour. World was spinning around you, blurring sharp and distinguishable features of König’s mask into a white haze.

König let go of your face once again, his now free hand slid down your body, cupping your sex through numerous layers of clothing separating you two. Sudden pleasure surged through your weakened body upon the contact; a loud moan that rolled off your tongue startled you - and suddenly you realised just how aroused you felt.

- Jeez, that dude didn’t lie about this shit, - König laughed out excitedly, watching your eyes widen in terror. You could barely move by now, not speaking of trying to fight off a man twice your size. His size. In a blur of all events, words and pain you never came back to just how fucking huge he was. You never mentioned that in any of your interrogations. How fucking stupid, huh?

Killer let go of your wrists cautiously, watching you closely - you rose your hands, resting your palms on his chest and pushing with all the might you had left, but it wasn’t enough to even push a cat off the chair - so that was the limit of your strength in this state?

König barked out another laugh - he was going to have so much fun with you! His hand never stopped massaging your crotch, noting a small wet patch forming on your shorts - you were soaked through your panties and now soaking your shorts? Gosh, he better buy a few dozens of these aids. Psycho’s eyes shot up to your face upon hearing a sob - tears ran down your eyes like small diamonds, turning your eyelids a pretty shade of red. König shifted forth so that his mask was almost touching your nose:

- Oh baby, I’ll be much gentler with you this time, I promise, - König cooed, pressing cold plastic of his mask against your flushed wet cheek, as if giving you a comforting peck.

Slasher shifted a bit, changing his position from sitting on your thighs to being in between them, yanking you towards him by your knees. He did quick job of taking your shorts and underwear off in few fluid moves, impatiently discarding them somewhere to the side. König felt his heavy cock twitch inside his jeans at the sight of your puffy cunny, all shiny from slick that practically oozed out of your fluttering hole. He swallowed hard, saliva was practically pooling in his mouth, having to restrain himself from tearing his mask off and devouring your cunt, exposing his face too early. You whined out something unintelligible, still trying to pry his fingers off one of your knees.

Your skin felt hot even through thick fabric of his gloves, so when König took one off and plunged two of his thick fingers inside of your tight hole he was surprised at how hot it was inside of you - one of the drug’s effects, he guessed. You couldn’t help but mewl at the pleasant feeling, your brain barely functioning, controlling yourself was beyond hard.

- That’s it, sweetness. Lemme hear all the pretty sounds you make, - König encouraged, plunging his fingers in and out of you, increasing the pace. Rough thumb coming to circle your slicked clit, causing your whole body to jolt softly. Scent of your pooling arousal was strong and prominent, seeping even through König’s mask, making him throb in his pants.

He couldn’t wait any longer. König was dreaming about your pussy being spread around his cock since that first night, he needed to be inside or else he’ll lose the remnants of his mind. Slasher slipped his fingers out of you, quickly undoing his pants, sliding them down as much as knife holster on his thigh would allow. Your breathing increased as you tried to close your legs, man’s bulky form making it impossible for you to do so.

- No, no please.. not again, - you begged, tears rushing down your temples, your voice meek and barely audible, so König just ignored it.

Pulling his girthy cock out König pumped it a few times with gloved hand, aligning pink swollen tip with your leaking entrance. It one smooth movement he bottomed out half of his impressive length, your body - flushed and pliant - taking him inside without any resistance. Low groan rumbled through his broad chest; König’s head fell backwards, hands gripping soft fat of your thighs, leaving pale marks of his fingertips on your skin.

You hated every second of it. Hated how his hips collided with yours with every thrust, how you felt him throb and twitch inside of you; hated how his hands wandered up and down your sides, rubbing your waist and palming your tits. And you hated how fucking good it felt. Hated how your body, despite all your attempts to resist, to fight off the effects of the drug, gave into the pleasure.

- That’s it baby. Just take what I give you, - König breathed out, his words slurred with pleasure. - See? See how good it can feel when you shut the fuck up and do what I tell you to? Just be a obedient little girl and feel good, I’ll take care of everything else yeah?

It felt as if a ball of bile got stuck in your throat; your face scrunched up in disgust as much as your jelly muscles allowed it:

- Fuck you, - you barely managed to choke out, your tongue struggling to form right sounds.

For a few moments you were sure König didn’t hear you, given the lack of any reaction nor acknowledgement of your words. But the next thing you knew was searing pain in your left cheek, the impact of man’s wide palm with your face jolted your head to the side, sudden change of its position made you felt dizzy. Now world was spinning around you even more so, you felt something warm trickling down your cheek - blood from your nose, you figured. Killer’s fingers roughly gripped your chin, yanking it back so that you were facing him once again.

- You wanna say that again bitch? Come on, I fucking dare you, - he spat out, movements of his hips halting completely, leaving his cock buried deep inside of your rippling warmth.

Your head shifting so harshly once again made you nauseous; you could barely see anything, dark purple circles were dancing all around, changing their shapes and giving way to greens and yellows to flood your vision.

- That’s what I fucking thought, - König gritted out. His hand let go of your chin, coming lower to wrap strong fingers around your neck. His hips started working with even more vigour, forcing his dick in and out of your drugged cunt on the pace that was almost inhuman.

Firm clasp of maniac’s hand around your neck made it nearly impossible to breathe. Both your hands wrapped around his mighty wrist, too weak to actually get him off you. Your vision started to darken rapidly, white noise trilling in your ears, barely allowing any other sounds to filter through.

- From the very moment I laid my eyes on you I fucking owned you. And I own you right now, and forever will. This is my fucking cunt, and I’ll use it whenever I want to. And I need you to fucking. learn. it. - König growled out, emphasising each of his last words with hard deep thrusts of his hips against yours, his cock making your stomach bulge, surely bruising your cervix.

- Oh but I’ll train you. Mould you into my personal cocksleeve, ready to be used whenever I feel like it, - his pace was quickening, thick cotton of his denim pants muffled filthy sounds of his mighty hips snapping against your ass. The grip of strong fingers never eased; König shifted part of his weight onto his hands which were wrapped around your neck, white mask hovering right in front of your face - milky white of it was a harsh contrast to blackness pooling in the corners of your eyes.

With that your conscience started to slip away. You felt your body jolt with every ferocious thrust of man’s hips, his cock buried deep inside of you, bruising your insides with its persistent bullying. Acute lack of oxygen burnt your lungs, and you prayed to all gods that König held your neck a tad bit too long - just enough for you to not wake up the next time. And just before you slipped into heavy delirium, your mushed up brain picked up König’s growl, penetrating through thick noise humming in your ears:

- You’re mine. Forever and ever.

Street was filled with all kinds of noise - sirens from police cars were going off triggering dogs from nearby houses, neighbours were crowding a bit afar, frowning and shaking their heads, everyone having their own theory of what happened. Loud cries of Y/n’s mother shook the air, putting everyone further on the edge. She is such a sweet girl, she’s never done anything bad! Oh god, why is this happening to her of all people?!

Some people were saying that the girl simply snapped, breaking under the pressure of events and finally fleeting the country without telling anyone to not give any clues about her whereabouts to the killer. Some said she just went out to unwind from being constantly watched by police and have some alone time - she’ll show up anytime soon. But everyone knew that it was one of murderer’s deeds - he did something to her. And everyone knew, deep down, that they’ll never see Y/n again - alive, at least.

A young lanky policemen, obviously green and not experienced in his job, was babbling out his report to the superior, all the other cops that were patrolling with him as well stood around silently, too scared to pipe in.

- Sir, I swear we were patrolling the area all this time, there was literally no one but the neighbours, but they were staying at their pro-

- Then you were not doing it well enough! - city commissioner barked out, his mighty vice silencing everyone around for a short moment. His face was red, fuming with rage; nostrils flaring with intensity of his heavy breathing, angry vein popped up on his temple, pulsating in tandem with his rapid heartbeat. His heavy gaze shifted between all the poor officers, their faces pale as chalk.

- You had one fucking job. ONE fucking job - to keep the girl in the sightline - and where is she now, huh? I’m asking you motherfuckers - where is Y/n?! - Mr. Lindner barked out, his heavy voice making everyone jolt. Younger officers stared down on their shoes blankly, not daring to meet eyes with their boss.

- You may consider yourselves lucky if you’ll still have your licences by the end of the week, - commissioner Lindner tsked, spitting onto the ground in remorse. Turning around, he headed to his police issued car, shouldering all those nosy ones who were brave enough to approach him in this state. Getting inside Mr. Lindner closed the door with a loud bang, starting the engine and pulling out of the driveway onto the main road.

Commissioner Lindner drove in full silence, blue eyes fixated on the road ahead; it was barely past midnight, but the darkness hung thick all around, being slit by two yellow rays of his car’s headlights. He gripped steering wheel tighter, one hand coming to comb back his grown out hair out of his eyes, a small smile played in the corners of his scarred lips.

Soon he’ll be home - maybe the effects of drugs will wear off by that time and he’ll watch Y/n wake up slowly, those pretty doe eyes of hers gazing up at him drowsily. He will cook her dinner - all of her favourites - and maybe even spoon feed her, if she’ll allow it. Then he’ll bathe her and tuck her in her new bed, locking up the door for the night and watching her sleep through the cameras.

Everything was going as smoothly as ever. No one has accidentally seen him dragging unconscious Y/n out of her house and hauling her into the backseat of his car. No signs of struggle or fight were found - kitchen sink was still half-filled with soapy water and dirty dishes, clean ones drying off on the countertop, a knife with all the fingerprints being drowned among other dirty utensils. Y/n’s parents approved that everything was on its original place - as if the girl just disappeared, dissolved into thin air.

No one suspected a thing. And, of course, no one suspected a respectable city commissioner Lindner with years upon years of experience, a veteran with impeccable reputation, a person no one could speak badly of.

This was the beginning of your new life, life in which everything revolved around König, causing you to cling onto him as if he was some kind of goddess. Life in which you no longer belonged to yourself, but to your abductor. Life in which you finally understood that you don’t need anyone or anything else because you had König, understood that König was your life itself <3

Slasher! König Masterlist

A/n: I apologise for giving König a half assed name, but I thought it’d be really cool for the plot😌

Once again, feedback is highly appreciated! I’m making this a series so feel free to send in your suggestions for more slasher! König content<3

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rainydayathogwarts · 7 months

Note

Can I get a obsessed Jennifer check smut? Possibly with a strap she uses the female reader maybe some tribbing?

I took this idea and just made it next level, I hope you still like what I did with it.

wc: 2.7k

Warnings: mentality that being popular is important, smut, naked photos, strap-on, toxic Jennifer (obvi)

It wasn't your fault that Jennifer was attracted to you. And if you were being completely honest, you had no idea that she was in the first place. You thought the gentle shoulder touches in the hallway and friendly fashion tips were just that. Friendly.

You thought you were finally getting the high school upgrade you deserved, and were close to becoming in the top most important girls in the school. It wasn't that you weren't, it was just for different reasons than you thought.

Jennifer, on the other hand, was desperately trying, day by day, to not scare you away by finding out that she was obsessed with you. That she had a mind as perverted as every single other teenage boy in the school. She imagined what your bare tits would look like, and if you'd let her take a photo of them if she asked nicely. She dreamt of having you sit nicely between her legs in bed while she played with your pretty pussy, and wondered if you'd try to keep your focus on the movie playing or if you'd completely forget about it and beg her to fuck you harder.

At night, she wrote in her diary while kicking her feet at the thought of being with you, and how amazing it'd be if you liked her back. And if you didn't, blackmail was always easy.

In her free period, she tried guessing the combination to your locker, and whenever she was over at yours and you were in a different room, she snooped around to see if you had a diary too.

Sometimes, if you were taking a shower, she even went to the lengths of going through your underwear drawer, and stared with an open jaw at how much bigger your bras were than hers. She started to play a little game by herself, see when you'd notice; she'd put a pair of her underwear in your drawer, and take one of yours. She liked to wear your stolen underwear when she touched herself to the thought of you, or take pretty photos of herself in them.

There was another, unhealthier side of this obsession with you though, she got jealous. Upon becoming closer friends with Jennifer, you dated a lot less guys, who she claimed all 'probably had a small dick' or were 'too ugly for you'.

She was also mean to some of your old girl friends, scoffing at them and telling you things like "I can't imagine you were friends with them." So ultimately, you were unmotivated to hang out with them at all anymore. Not that you were to complain about it, because that meant you became just as popular as Jennifer. Some mean cheerleaders never dared to look your way, and you always got your way with people now. Someone's in your seat? Give them a look and it's yours again. Don't have any lunch money? Someone will always volunteer to buy you some.

Since you were a cheerleader along with Jennifer, you always drove home with her after practice for your usual girl's night, though she always invited Needy to come over way later than when you got to her's. Jennifer claimed it was because the changing rooms were too dirty and you'd both just have to shower at her's.

Whenever you were in the shower, she went through your phone, saw who you were texting, and one night, she came up with a plan.

"Hey you." Said Jennifer, opening her arms wide for a hug. You jogged over to her, hugging her tightly. When you separated, Jennifer's hands still lingered on your waist, and she wrapped one arm around you to walk into the changing rooms together. You both changed into your cheer uniform, Jennifer staring at every exposed area of your skin possible. You were wearing a purple thong with a matching purple bra, her favourite colour. "You see, it matches with our uniform." You spoke, holding up your skirt.

Jennifer giggled, coming closer to you. How had she changed so quickly? She put her hands on your waist, pressing her front into your back, and taking the skirt from your hands. "Get dressed, I can't be late." You rolled your eyes at her jokingly. "Oh right, cheer captain are you? I just always forget." Jennifer raises her brows at you and you both start giggling. Once you're finally dressed, you open your mouth to make another joke, but a harsh slap on your ass has you closing your mouth. "Ouch!"

Jennifer winks at you, cocking her head towards the door, and you obediently follow her out onto the pitch, where conveniently enough, the football team starts warming up too. "We both have practice today?" You ask, eyes stuck on a certain uniformed boy. "Mhmm" Hums Jennifer, eyeing you.

Her plan was already starting to work.

"You were distracted at practice today." You look up at her from where you're sitting on her bed, fresh out of the shower, and you immediately blush. "Mhm what-" "Y/n don't try to be ditzy with me, I basically taught you that." You shut your mouth, trying to find an escape. "Look, this is your next lesson for girlhood. What I do sometimes, I take some nice photos of myself and give it to him with a little note." "But I already have nice photos." You complain, and it's only when you see the look on her face that your jaw drops. "Oh... Do you think - maybe you could help me with that?"

Jennifer grins, immediately making her way over to where you sat on her bed. She straddles your hips, her hands immediately coming up to the zipper of your Juicy jacket, which she pulls down half-way, so your breasts are almost fully exposed in your bra. She places her hands on your boobs, squeezing them together slightly, before climbing off you and grabbing her camera, not taking notice to the way your face flushes a dark red.

"So we take the photos, print them, choose one, write a note on the back, and give it to him." She climbs back on your laps and snaps her camera for the first time that night. "How many do we need to take?" You ask "Well we need to have a variety." Jen says, her hands unzipping your jacket all the way down, before tugging it down your arms.

You let her.

You look down at your tits, a hand going up to adjust them in your lacy bra, but Jennifer beats you to it, cupping one in her hand to make it look perkier in your bra before doing the same with your other one. Your nipples harden and you blush, but Jennifer seemingly pays no attention to it, instead brushing some hair over your shoulder before she snaps a few more photos. "Do you want to take your shorts off for me?" She says, looking at the photos on the camera.

You gulp, shimmying out of your matching pink shorts. Jennifer looks up at you, shaking her head. "Let's find a pair of underwear to match your bra." You follow her to her closet, where she kneels on the floor, looking over her shoulder as she rummages through the options. "What about those?" You ask, pointing at a pair of white lacy underwear that looks strangely like an old pair you can't seem to find. Jennifer freezes for a moment before taking them out, shaking her head to herself.

She turns to you, still kneeling, and taps your leg a couple of times. "Come on then, take it off." You freeze. "What, here?" Jennifer raises her eyebrows at you. "We're both girls y/n, I know what a pussy looks like." You blush, nodding and push your panties down your legs, waiting for Jennifer to give you the other pair. You look away, not thinking much of anything, unaware of the fact that Jennifer is staring at your cunt, wishing she could taste it in that moment.

When she realises she's staring, she pretends she's been trying to get your attention for a while. "Helloo? Y/n." When you look back at her, she is holding the panties in a way that you can just step into them. "Oops, sorry." She pulls them up your legs, snapping the elastic against your skin, before grabbing your hips and turning you around. "Okay, let's see." You feel yourself blush harder as Jennifer stares at your ass and pulls the panties higher so that it wedges itself between your cheeks.

"Perf." She says, dragging you back to her bed. "Right, so sit like this-" She kneels on the bed, her legs spread, and arms pushing her tits up. "Can you do that for me?" You nod, getting into that position, and in that moment you wonder where Needy is and if you really want to give a guy a half naked photo of you. Jennifer walks up to you, looking as though she wants to fix your hair, but she pinches your nipples, causing you bite back a moan, and you watch her as she waits for your nipples to harden even more.

You let her take the photos, for the fun of it. What best friends haven't taken naked photos of each other? You love photo shoots anyway so there was no harm. "Do you think we should have one from the back?" You ask "Guys like that." Jen grins, nodding at you, and you get on your forearms and knees, arching your back.

"Yes, just like that." Says Jennifer, a single hand caressing your backside. You feel the bed dip beside you, where she put the camera down, and you feel her second hand come up to squeeze your ass. "You know what I think?" Jen starts, and you hum in acknowledgement. "You might not like it, but I think it's worth a try." She continues.

"You know I'd do anything for you Jen." You only half joke.

When you hear her idea your jaw drops, and you need a moment to process it. Of course, you agree, stripping down until you're stood naked in your best friend's bedroom. You're thankful her curtains are closed and Needy didn't show up to girl's night. You look at Jennifer, tightening her strap-on on top of her panties, but you can't help but be disappointed she doesn't take her jacket off. You kneel on the floor as Jennifer walks towards you, and you pray that you don't start to drip on her carpet.

Jennifer stands right in front of you, her purple strap-on right in front of you. "I-won't this get in the way of the photo?" You ask, tugging on her jacket. "What are you trying to get me naked or something?" Jennifer jokes, she takes it off nonetheless, handing you the camera. You swear she can hear your heart beating louder. She's not wearing a bra underneath.

"Okay, let's do this baby." She encourages, taking the camera back from you. You flip your hair over your shoulder, leaning in closer to take the strap in your mouth, sucking like you normally would. Jennifer starts to thrust her hips along with your movement and you gag, tears starting to form. That's when the camera goes off. She takes a few photos, then throws the camera onto her bed, her hand gathering your hair into a ponytail, and she pulls you off the strap.

"Okay, now how about you get on the bed?" Jennifer says, testing these new waters with you. You start to get up, and she helps you up, before pushing you harshly so you land on you bed. She follows you as you crawl up her bed, watching your dripping cunt, and she grabs your hips before turning you around, so you lay flat on your back.

She throws a leg over one of your thighs and immediately slams her lips onto yours. You moan loudly, hands reaching up the grab anything, landing on her hips. She pulls away, kissing and biting your neck instead, enjoying the sound of your whimpers. She continues to kiss down your body, playing with your tits, pinching your nipples and pushing them together as she licks around them.

She takes one of your nipples in her mouth and she starts to suck, her hips beginning to grind against your thigh. Why didn't you do this sooner? Once Jennifer reaches your pussy, she pulls away, just staring at you all laid out for her. She spreads your folds with two fingers, watching as your juices drip onto her sheets. She runs a finger up from your hole to your clit and brings it up to her mouth, humming loudly.

You whine, bucking your hips up, and Jennifer's gaze goes back to your face. "What do we say when we want something?" She asks, a finger tracing shapes on your thigh. "Please! Please Jen." You beg. She grins, one handing coming down to slap your clit and you cry out, trying to close your legs, but Jennifer keeps them open around her.

She holds the strap-on, cruelly teasing your entrance with it, before she sinks it in your core. You moan loudly and Jennifer smirks, immediately setting an unforgiving pace. "Yes, let me hear you baby. Come on." You whine at her demand, trying to reach up to her, but give up. She grins from her place on the bed, moving her grip over from your hips so that she can put each of her hands next to your head, so she can now hover over you while slamming her hips into you. You can't control your moans, head digging into the pillow behind you, barely keeping your eyes open.

Jennifer's tits jiggle above you as she thrusts into you over and over again, and you grab one of them, pinching her nipple in return and she moans loudly. She comes down to kiss you, now leaning on her forearms, and slowing down so she can grind the strap into you instead, hitting a new spot from that angle. Her tongue forces itself into your mouth and one of her hands grabs your jaw so she can dominate every aspect of the kiss.

Jennifer grabs one of your thighs, pushing it as far to the side as she can so she can hit a new spot inside you, grinding her hips into yours quickly, so the base of the strap rubs against your clit. "Fuck! Jen! I need to-" You sob, trying to buck your hips into Jennifer against her hold, but it's impossible. She removes her hand from your thigh so she can play with your tits, and the second she pinches your nipple again, you're crying her name out as you orgasm, back arching against her.

She doesn't let you ride out your orgasm because she's pulling out and flipping you onto your stomach so she can pound into you from the back, watching as your ass jiggles from the force of each thrust. Jennifer moans, one hand smacking your backside again before both her hands plant themselves on the bed to help her quicken her speed. Your legs are trembling at the prologued orgasm - or a second one, it feels so good you can't tell which it is. "Please, I can't- I can't"

Jennifer slows down, admiring the red marks on your ass from where her hips were pounding against you until she comes to a stop. She sits back on her knees, lets you catch your breath, and stop crying. Both her hands come up to massage your ass, and she leans down to press a kiss to it.

When she finally pulls out, she moves the sit next to you, helping to flip you on your back, grinning at the way your legs still tremble. She helps you sit up, your back leaning against her front while she continues to play with your tits. "How was that babe?" She asks and you nod, beginning to giggle at the situation. Jennifer leans in to kiss you and you put a hand on her jaw, trying to deepen the kiss, but she pulls away.

"If you give anyone a single one of these photos, I will destroy you." She threatens in a loving tone, before kissing you again, this time letting you deepen the kiss for however long you wish.

The next time you come over to Jennifer's house, there's a new scrapbook next to her bed that reads "Y/N"

#jennifer check #jennifers body #needy pussy #needy wh0re #wlw smut #wlw #wlw ns/fw #biseuxal #wet and needy #needy lesnicki #megan fox #smut #kinktober #gxg smut #gxg scenarios #jennifers body fanart #succubi #rainydayathogwarts

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cvntrlseecvntrlvee · 3 months

Text

home is where the heart is

↠ pairing: wonwoo x reader ↠ genres: fluff ↠ word count: 900~ ↠ a/n: thinking abt bestfriend!wonwoo today 🥺 also ty to @hannieween who always reads all the little drabbles i type into her inbox, that’s how we ended up with this. she also helped write part of it, the an at the bottom will explicitly say which bits!! hope you guys like it uwu

bestfriend!wonwoo who keeps you company after your break up with your shitty ex boyfriend.

bestfriend!wonwoo who lets you lean on his shoulder while you guys watch the latest episode of bake off and you’re ugly crying with a tub of ur favourite ice cream.

how he tries to distract you the next day by inviting you to play mario party because some of the boys are over and he doesn't want you to wallow in your room by yourself.

the way, after the boys leave, he takes you into his arms while on the couch and letting you snuggle into the warmth of his chest as you sniffle a little. wonwoo smells like fresh laundry and he rubs a comforting hand up and down your back.

to you, wonwoo was home.

this is basically yours and wonwoo’s dynamic haha.

and he would never admit it out loud, but he honestly loves it. he loves as you ramble mindlessly, asking him pointless questions about nothing and everything at all. he remains quiet, but every now and then he’ll say is that so? setting you off on another tangent.

you laugh at your own jokes, which makes him laugh as well. it's the kind of laugh that makes his nose scrunch and makes him push the rim of his glasses up a bit.

and when ur away for the weekend, visiting ur parents, and wonu is home alone, the silence is deafening, and he misses you.

he misses you during breakfast, how you'd grumble about having to go to work and rant about the woes of capitalism and the five day work week.

he misses you when he's rewatching the previous episode of bake off on the cold couch alone, and how you'd be telling him about the history of shortbread and something about an alliance between scotland and france.

he misses you when he's out walking the dog after dinner and how you'd be talking his ear off about every little thing that happened to you that day, in chronological order.

wonwoo's life is quiet and greyscale when you're not there and he misses the colour of your laugh and your smile and the sound of your voice.

one night, he finally convinces you to go out to the movies with him. you've been feeling better lately, and you can't remember the last time you cried about your ex.

he buys you the biggest tub of popcorn, making sure the worker slathers it with extra extra butter (even though he knows its gonna give him a tummy ache later). and he watches you fondly as you try to choose between the buncha crunch or mike and ikes (his two favourites) before settling on both.

he also gets you a cola slushie, but your hands get cold from holding the cup, making you clasp them together between your thighs when you finally go to sit down, and he wishes, god how he wishes, he could just grab your hands to warm them up a bit.

you guys decide to see the latest action movie, a genre which you love, but sometimes you can't handle the blood and gore that comes with it. so when the bad guy's about to get sliced to hell, wonwoo quickly throws his hand up to cover your eyes.

you grab his hands to move it away because im a big girl, wonu, i can handle a little blood (except your pants are on fire and you absolutely cannot) but he knows this and does not budge.

and when the scene is finally over and he moves his hand away from your face, you're still holding on to it, not letting go

wonwoo sends you a look but you've got ur eyes glued to the movie, as if holding his hand is a normal occurance (it's not) and you're not freaking out like wonwoo currently is (you are, in fact, freaking the fuck out).

wonwoo settles back in his seat, loving the way your hands feel around his and laces his fingers with yours. you keep his hand in your lap, squeezing everytime sometimes stressful or surprising happens on screen and wonwoo rubs back and forth on the back of your hand when you do.

when the movies over, you still don't let go of his hand, and neither does he. not when you’re picking up ur bag to sling over your shoulder, not when he's picking up the empty food boxes to throw away, and not when you're walking home together in the cool of the night, as you rehash the movie ending, swinging your hands between you when you get a little too excited with your theories

you're both still unwilling to let go of each other's hands when you make it back to your shared apartment, as wonwoo keys in the door code, and it isn't until you're in the hallway, in front of your two bedroom doors, that you realise neither of you want to ever let go.

so you don't.

you let wonwoo hold onto you tightly while you tell him you had a lot of fun tonight and he replies saying he always has fun when he's with you. and you get on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek, both of your cheeks warming up.

and it isn't until then that wonwoo let's go of your hand, choosing to instead grab your face with both of his and leaning down to kiss you sweetly

wonwoo tastes like a mix of movie theater butter, fruity candy and salted chocolate.

and best of all, wonwoo tastes like home.

a/n: this is my first time writing something in this sort of format! let me know what you think!! also the first part aboutt he rambling and the bit aboutt he cola slushie are courtesy of v, she's really fab and you all should go read her writing 👀👀👀

here are some lil extra bits that i didn't put into the drabble but i still think are cute to think abt hehe

gif 1 by @jeonsupershy // this wonu when he finally gets the girl he's loved all his life

gif 2 by @meowonhao-main // this wonu when you shyly nod yes to wonu asking you out to a real dinner date

this wonu (yes, im obsessed w this photo leave me alone) when you climb into his lap to snuggle after a really shitty day at work

this wonu when you whine that his kisses are too sweet and you want him to kiss you like a man

this wonu when he's about to ask you to marry him and legally be stuck w his loser gamer ass for the rest of ur life

u when u say yes because he's YOUR loser gamer ass and u love him so SO much 🥺🥺🥺

#seventeen fic #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo fanfic #writing #mine #title: home is where the heart is #author: cvntrlseecvntrlvee #band: svt #member: wonwoo

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givemea-dam-break · 4 months

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daughters of the evening

⭒⭒⭒⭒ in which luke’s descent from good may be found.

pairing: luke castellan x (fem) reader

a/n: hey guys!! first fic in a while and i know, i know, pjo book readers are disappointed in me… but i’m just a girl! i’m literally just a girl! please enjoy my brain baby i love her :) i love writing quests so much, so this was really nice to write for my first fic back on tumblr. i hope you guys enjoy! if anybody wants to be added to my pjo taglist, let me know!

warnings: canon typical violence, book spoilers, blood/injury description, rusty writing

words: 5.8K ⭒⭒⭒⭒

(y/n) couldn’t remember when the change in Luke became permanent.

She could remember the hints of something at the corners of his eyes, something that bit at the happiness that filled them, eating away at it like rot on wood. She could remember the slow decline in his respect for his father, respect that had barely been there for years, though was now bridging on outright disrespect.

She could remember the crux of it all, the very moment in which all of the little things began to coalesce into something ugly. A flash of claws, the deep scarlet of mortal blood followed by shimmering gold ichor. The horrible sound of screaming. Gleaming fruits of gold. Gorgeous, blooming green trees towering above them that concealed the violence below.

It was after the quest that Luke, her Luke, was never the same.

⭒⭒

“I don’t remember San Francisco looking like this.”

Luke’s lips curled into a smile. “You’ve never been to San Francisco.”

(y/n) rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen it in movies through which I have lived vicariously. It’s in one of the Indiana Jones’s, right? Looks different.”

“Those movies are from the eighties,” Luke said. “So, yeah, it’s going to look different.”

Charles Beckendorf, their questmate, heaved a sigh. “Do you guys ever stop?”

“Stop what?” (y/n) asked.

“Being annoying? Flirting? Whatever you want to call it.”

Her face felt awfully hot and she found herself unable to even look in Luke’s general direction. It was a comment that had been made many times in the past, one she was sure Luke was sick to death of, but she found herself yearning for comments like it. They meant that maybe she wasn’t dreaming up something between them.

Either way, she didn’t acknowledge it, rather stuffing her hand into her unzipped backpack and scrounging around until finally she found what she wanted. With a dramatic flair, she revealed three paper maps, each embellished with their names written in colourful pen at the top.

A moment of silence, then Luke said, “Why do we need a map each? Can’t we just share? And where did you even get those?”

“I got them back in Salt Lake City, before we happened upon that massive crab, you remember the one? All blue and slimy.” She pressed the maps into their hands. “There are multiple because knowing you both, you’ll lose them and I’m not buying any more. But, look! They’re colour-coded. Green for me because, duh, Demeter. Orange for Beckendorf, red for you. We can at least make this quest for some stupid apples interesting.”

Beckendorf raised a brow, giving her a strange look. “With glittery gel pen?”

“Glittery gel pen makes everything better,” she insisted. “I’m glad you acknowledge that. Now, come on. With all this talking you two have been doing, we don’t have much time to spare. You’re like a pair of gossiping grannies.”

The two shared a look over her head, one they thought she didn’t see, but it only made her hold back a laugh. They were a relatively upbeat group as it was, but she prided herself on keeping the mood light, especially when danger was looming. With the might of glittery gel pens, a travel-size game of Monopoly, and a cheesy puns book they had picked up off the side of the road, they would be unstoppable should their enemies need a good laugh.

It wasn’t that they weren’t capable of what was ahead of them that she felt the need to joke around, it was just her regular nerves. The three of them were experienced and powerful demigods, skilled fighters and strategists, the best of the best. Luke had his immense skill with a sword and the mind of a trickster; Beckendorf had the brains and strength of a blacksmith, and could sense a trap a mile away and disarm it in moments; (y/n) herself was a powerful daughter of Demeter and, though not to the standard of Luke, was also skilled with a sword.

They hadn’t faced much trouble before. They were a tried-and-tested trio, having been on multiple quests together in the past and finding themselves working well together.

This time, it seemed like a match made by the Fates. A quest ordained by Hermes, Luke’s father, to retrieve the Apples of Immortality from the Garden of the Hesperides - gardens and plants being the domain of Demeter and, by extension, (y/n). And, no doubt, there would be many traps or the need for a strong mind, hence Beckendorf. He was a year or two younger than she and Luke, but had proved himself upon countless occasions. She trusted him with her life.

Almost a week now they’d been on this quest, and still she felt like a giddy child. Almost seventeen and, at her big age, she was holding back smiles and giggles befitting of a schoolgirl with a crush. Part of it was gratefulness that a demigod such as Luke had chosen her to join him on this quest, even after being friends for years and having gone on numerous quests together already. Part of it was simply that she was madly in love with the boy.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, then, watching the way the afternoon sun gleamed on his face, setting his dark eyes alight with flame. There was a curious smile on his lips, one that concealed mischief and intelligence; one she had loved for as long as she could remember. His hair was messy after days of travelling and not bothering to fuss with it - she dreaded to think of what her own looked like, the only mirror she had being her sword - but there was something so extremely endearing about it. Wild curls that gave his lightly-freckled face even more life.

Their maps didn’t help their hunt for the Garden an awful lot. For what had to have been at least two hours, they stumbled around the city, turning this way and that, earning odd looks from strangers.

“For being the son of the god of travellers,” (y/n) said, “you are horrendous at reading a map.”

Luke gave her a nudge with his elbow as he scanned the map. He was grinning. Her stomach was doing cartwheels. “Maps make sense enough, but I think these ones are out of date.”

“Maps don’t go out of date, stupid.”

Beckendorf was holding back a smile. “I think he’s right. I think our maps are too old.”

(y/n) glowered at them, plucking their maps from their hands. Fine. They didn’t deserve to hold maps graced with her glittery gel pens anyways.

“Well,” she said. “Unless either of you have any ideas, we’re going to be stuck wandering for hours. Come on, Luke. Use your magicky journey powers. They got us this far.”

His eyes shone, and her knees felt a little weak. She loved it when he looked at her like that, when she had said something funny. It was as though the heavens themselves had descended and flooded his face with light and beauty. She couldn’t look away.

“It’s a big garden,” he retorted. “Find the big garden, daughter of the mighty Demeter!”

She knew he meant it as a joke - the sarcasm was practically dripping from his voice - but there was something in his tone that she couldn’t identify. Something deeper than a simple sarcastic comment. This had been a pity quest, of sorts, she knew. Luke had been getting restless and his father had wanted to satiate him, but it wasn’t enough. He was displeased with the gods, to say the least.

But he kept a good lock on his expressions, on his words. She wouldn’t have suspected a thing had she not known him as well as she knew the feeling of grass beneath her feet.

Eventually, combining their powers and the single brain cell that seemed to be taken by Beckendorf, they found their way to the Mount Tamalpais State Park, which was not open to visitors now that the sun was setting.

They stared up at the distant mountain, the sloping greenland and towering trees that led towards it, and heaved a synonymous groan. Quests could never be even slightly easy, it seemed. Why would the gods let them head to a random park in the city when they could have them trespassing in a state park at night, lives in the hands of the monsters and animals alike that roamed the woods? The gods would rather have them arrested than have something be easy.

“You’re kidding, right?” Beckendorf said. “We don’t have to walk all that way?”

(y/n) frowned. She wished more than anything that they could just turn around and leave, a feeling she did not often get on quests. But something didn’t feel right. There was a twist in her gut, a deep intuition that told her something was going to go wrong.

But her gut was also pulling her towards the mountain. There was a power there, unlike any she had felt before, and she wanted to know what it was.

“We’ll be fine,” she insisted, though she didn’t feel entirely sure herself.

She was the first to make the step towards their darkening fates. If she had known the outcome, she would have turned and fled immediately.

The three of them trudged up the path, flicking on torches when the sky grew darker and the ground in front of them too hard to see. It gave them an eerie glow, entirely unlike the warm glow of their weapons. All of their features were in stark contrast to the dark surroundings; Luke’s cheekbones, Beckendorf’s eyes, her brownbone. It was disconcerting, and it felt all too much like they were the lead characters in a ghost story.

She was considering turning back about halfway there. The tug in her gut was becoming stronger, almost unbearable, and her head was pounding, filled with the worry of the possible incidents that had not happened yet.

The only thing that kept her going was Luke’s pinky finger wrapped around hers.

Maybe he felt her nerves, so acute that she feared her sinews and tendons and bones could snap at any moment. But Luke knew her. He had known her since they were barely teenagers. He knew her better than she knew herself: every habit she had; every face she made; every hint of a feeling before she knew it was coming. He had some deep understanding of her, one that would have made her feel vulnerable in any other situation with any other person. Luke was not any other person.

His pinky was wrapped around hers tightly, warmer than the rest of her body put together. It curled around hers just so, acknowledging her worry. His jacket sleeve brushed hers.

It wasn’t until they reached the Garden at the foot of the mountain that his hand wrapped around hers fully, encasing it entirely in warmth and comfort. His palms were calloused, fingers ribbed with light scars, but she could not imagine it any other way.

The Garden of the Hesperides was easily the most beautiful place she had ever seen and was likely the most beautiful place she would ever see. Stars hung above them in the night sky, glittering so brightly it was as though they could reach out and touch them with their outstretched fingers. Lush green grass coated the ground beneath their feet and beyond, speckled with flowers so bright they almost glowed in the dark. It was bristling with life, so full of it that (y/n) could feel it all deep in her bones.

But the source of the power lay further afield.

A tree, much taller than the rest, stood at the centre of the garden, boasting more golden apples than (y/n) could count. Its branches swayed in the faint breeze in mesmerising swoops, and the scent of fresh fruit laced with something that could only be described as addictive brushed over them. A faint mist swirled around the trunk of the tree, glittering slightly in the moonlight.

“Holy Hephaestus,” Beckendorf murmured, slack-jawed.

“That’s one big tree,” Luke said.

“You certainly have a way with words,” (y/n) said.

His hand only squeezed hers in response. She could feel his heartbeat in his wrist. How was it so steady?

There was a shift in the wind, then, and a soft bite came into the air. Goosebumps prickled the skin of their arms, raising the hair there. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she swore she could hear the faintest lull of singing voices and could feel the weight of some large presence in the air. Nothing could be seen but the beautiful garden and the decadent tree in the centre.

“Luke Castellan,” said a soft voice. Luke visibly tensed, eyes narrowing at the usage of his surname. “(y/n) (l/n). Charles Beckendorf. We have been expecting you in our Garden for quite some time now.”

The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. But, finally, after a few moments, the speaker emerged from the fine mist.

She didn’t look like much, appearing to be barely older than (y/n), but there was something about her surrounding aura that suggested she was much, much older. Dark, inky hair tumbled over narrow tawny shoulders, framing even darker eyes that shone with unknown magic. The woman seemed to blink slowly, as if bored or tired, and it looked as though she were merely floating over the ground rather than walking. It was hard to tell. Her Greek chiton covered her feet.

“We are the Hesperides,” she said, voice ever gentle, as four more women appeared, each almost identical in appearance. “Daughters of the Evening. Nymphs of the Sunset. Protectors of this Garden. What is your business here?”

There was a cockiness to Luke’s smile then, one that had (y/n) on edge. “If you’ve been expecting us, then surely you know our business.”

The lead Hesperide drew nearer, stopping a few feet away from their trio. Her sisters gathered at her sides, dark eyes sparkling with stars and cold curiosity and something overtly bitter. The demigods were clearly unwelcome here, but they intended to make a game of their quest.

(y/n)’s hand squeezed Luke’s in warning. He spared her a glance, her heart drawing still when his warm eyes met hers. His chin dipped slightly in a nod, and he gave her hand a squeeze before turning his attention back to the Hesperides.

“We’ve been sent here on a quest by my father Hermes,” Luke announced. His voice held more confidence than she felt. “We’re here to retrieve a golden apple.”

It was strange watching the Hesperides’ heads tilt in unison as if they were each an extension of the other. Voices lulled around them, soft and gentle, and the worry seeped from her very bones. Her hand fell from Luke’s. Something felt strangely at ease in her stomach despite their circumstances.

“You may try,” said the lead Hesperide. Her skin glimmered like marble in the moonlight. “Our dearest Ladon protects this tree with his life. He does not sleep. Every second of every day, he guards our gift from Gaea, the goddess Hera’s wedding gift. Do not think it will be easy to pass him.”

The Hesperides seemed to fade into the mist, then, their bodies becoming light and transparent as they slowly backed away until nothing was left but the faint singing swirling around them. The voices gave (y/n) a strange feeling, as though pulling her towards the tree.

“Who’s Ladon?” Beckendorf asked.

The three of them stood for a moment, watching the swirling mist.

“A dragon,” (y/n) said. “A big dragon.”

She could feel his presence, she realised. The heavy weight that had settled over them upon entering the Garden, it couldn’t be anything else. Even still, she could feel him through the ground, like an impending sense of death and doom. She’d had similar feelings before, an innate knowledge that the strawberry fields were close to wilting one year. Campers had called her crazy, but she knew. The earth knew.

And it knew now. She was horribly aware of the heaviness in her gut that surrounded the bright power of the apple tree. It could be nothing but Ladon.

“Any ideas, Luke?” she asked. “You’re our idea guy.”

He scoffed. “Since when? You’ve been dragging us around by our ears this entire quest.”

But he could see the nerves that she felt. He knew how strange this was for her, to feel so deeply worried about a quest. He knew something was wrong.

“I’ll get the apple,” he said, and his shoulders rose with confidence. His hand, the one that had held (y/n)’s moments ago, twitched just so. “I’m the fastest out of the three of us. You two, keep our friend distracted.”

There was a deep grumble at that moment, as if Ladon were making himself known. It shook the ground and the boughs of the tree trembled. Sweet-smelling apples tumbled into the mist.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to get the apples?” (y/n) asked. “You brought along a daughter of Demeter for a reason.”

He smiled softly at her. “That’s not the reason I brought you along.”

And, before either she or Beckendorf could protest his stupidity or question his statement, Luke’s glowing sword materialised in his hand and he was running into the mist.

The mist spread apart as his feet made contact, and (y/n)’s heart dropped. Beckendorf, one of the bravest demigods she had ever met despite his age, had a tremor in his hands as he pulled free his sword.

Within the mist was the largest monster (y/n) had ever seen. It was wrapped around the tree in a serpentine-like way, scales glimmering in the moonlight like molten copper and bronze. Massive claws sunk into the dirt surrounding the tree, at least the length of her forearm and as wide as Beckendorf’s. Every breath it released shook the branches of the tree as though caught in a gale.

The most horrifying part: the dragon had a hundred heads.

She had read about Ladon, had familiarised herself with the myths surrounding the Hesperides. Days before the quest, she and Luke had sat down at the canoe lake, poring over old history books that told the tale of Heracles and his Twelve Labours, one of which was the very quest they were being made to repeat. Luke had made a joke of it back then, unhappy with the quest he had been given and disbelieving that what they faced would be much of a threat.

But Ladon was no joke. It was an entirely different thing seeing drawings of the dragon and seeing him in real life. His hundred heads slithered through the air like snakes on the water, luminous yellow eyes watching the demigods with piqued interest.

Even Luke faltered.

A deep breath came from all two hundred of the dragon’s nostrils, washing over them in a hot, acidic wave. The smell alone was horrendous, like an old, decrepit sewer filled with rotting rats, and it had the hairs on her arms standing and her eyes burning.

She was worried that she may never be able to move again, frozen in place by the sheer might of Ladon, but when Luke turned to look at her, blood flooded into her veins again. He was counting on her. She wouldn’t let him down.

Ladon expected a frontal assault. He was waiting for Luke to attack, watching like a predator on prey, but he did not expect the very tree he protected to act against him.

With a heave of energy, (y/n) stretched out her arm and watched as the tree’s trunk began to swell as if filling with liquid. Ladon’s serpentine body writhed around it, twisting as he moved to accommodate the growing tree. The branches above him shook, dipping towards the ground slowly. Too slowly.

The dragon seemed to realise what, or who, was causing the change, and snarled ferociously. It was at that moment that Beckendorf grabbed a ball of Celestial bronze from his belt and, with a strong arm and remarkably good aim, threw it at the beast.

An explosion of green ignited before them as the ball slammed into Ladon’s thick hide. The dragon roared, whether in pain or fury, and set its bright gaze on (y/n) and Beckendorf.

Fear coursed through her body. She could hardly breathe. The branches wavered, pausing the pursuit to the ground. Beckendorf launched another one of his Celestial bronze bombs.

A pity quest, that’s what this had been. But, maybe, it was more than that. Maybe this was Hermes’ punishment for Luke wanting more from his life. Maybe this was (y/n)’s consequence for falling so irrevocably in love with Luke - for feeling the way she did, she would have to follow him to impossible circumstances.

But none of them deserved it.

It was at that moment that Luke took his leap.

With speed befitting a child of Hermes, he leapt onto Ladon’s mighty body, feet finding purchase on his rough scales, and launched himself upwards towards the descending branches.

For a moment, there was hope. Even Heracles had not retrieved the apples by facing Ladon, but maybe Luke would. Perhaps Luke would succeed where Heracles had not. Pride swelled in her heart, coated her tongue like warm honey, and she almost smiled.

Copper-coloured claws flashed in the moonlight. A chorus of soft, harmonising voices swirled around them like mist.

Mistake, they sang. The boy has made a mistake.

There was a cry of pain so guttural that (y/n) felt it in her soul. Her feet were moving before she could truly comprehend what was happening. The grass tried to reach for her ankles, tried to stop her in her mission, but nothing could. Had a god stood before her, she would have found her way past them. Nothing could stop her, not even this dragon that caused such fear in her bones.

She reached Luke as Ladon wound around the tree tightly, snarling protectively. Something in the beast’s demeanour hinted at pain beneath the danger, and when she saw the gold blood pooling just a few feet away, she knew why.

A claw, one of Ladon’s, severed from the knuckle down lay strewn in the grass. The dragon hissed as Beckendorf snatched it up, hefting his sword as (y/n) pulled Luke away.

He was bleeding badly. A deep gash ran from the tip of his brow down to the corner of his mouth, somehow missing his eye but cutting just above and below. His skin was already becoming dangerously pale. Her hands were covered in blood. His blood. She was going to be sick.

“Hey,” she murmured, gently laying his head on her lap. Her hands trembled as she reached into her bag. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Luke shuddered, eyes half-lidded and struggling to find something to focus on. “Are you -?”

“I’m fine,” she said. After a terrible moment, one that took far too long, she pulled free a small vial of nectar, wrapped tightly in old face-cloths to keep it from smashing in her bag. Her hands couldn’t stop shaking as she tried to unwrap it.

Beckendorf knelt beside her, claw at his side, and took the vial from her hands. She didn’t know how his hands could be so steady. She could hardly breathe. Not with Luke so injured, not with Ladon eyeing them hungrily.

He handed the vial back, and she propped Luke’s head up slightly. With a hiss of pain, she managed to open his mouth just enough to pour the small amount of nectar in. He swallowed with a struggle.

There was no telling how long it would take the nectar to work, but they couldn’t stay there under the watchful glare of Ladon, who looked ready to attack again. (y/n) took a trembling breath.

“Beckendorf,” she said, “are you able to carry him? At least until we can get out of this place. I can try - I can clean the wound when we’re safe.”

He nodded and hoisted Luke up into his arms, careful not to jostle his head too much.

She didn’t realise she had been crying until they stopped.

Beckendorf set Luke down on a soft patch of grass beyond the Garden, and (y/n) tucked her jacket underneath his head. The nectar seemed to be working, albeit slowly. Some colour was returning to his skin, but it was hard to see under all of the blood.

“You’re okay,” she murmured again, but she wasn’t sure who she was telling. She wiped her tears with the back of her hands.

She grabbed one of the face-cloths the vial of nectar had been wrapped in, soaking it in water from her water bottle, and slowly brought it to Luke’s face.

His eyes seemed to have some ability to focus now, watching her beneath a glaze of pain. It tore her soul in half to see him in pain, wincing as she gently dabbed the blood from his cheek. Her fingers were stained. His cheek was, too.

“I’m going to keep watch,” said Beckendorf. “Those Hesperides gave me a bad feeling.”

(y/n) nodded, watching for a moment as he trudged a few feet away, just out of earshot, but her focus soon returned to Luke. She tried not to think too much about how his hand was gripping her knee as she cleaned the rest of the blood.

“Is the nectar working?” she asked when she saw his eyes drooping. “What does it taste like?”

His gaze found hers, warm and cloudy. A pained smile fought its way onto his lips despite the slowly-healing scar on his cheek. She could see the skin trying to sew itself back together with the aid of the nectar.

“That smoothie you made a few months back with the - with the camp’s strawberries,” he uttered. “And whatever those green leaves were.”

She found herself smiling despite the red coating her hands. “Mint. And it was that good, huh? Last I checked, nectar for you tasted like that weird concoction of Coke and Sprite you liked so much.”

For a moment, his eyes grew distant before refocusing on her face. They flickered over her features as if seeing them for the first time. His hand felt awfully warm on her knee.

“Anything you make is better,” he said.

“Is that so?” She brushed his hair back from his face softly, cleaning the last bits of blood.

His skin was still stitching itself back together, but the nectar seemed to have stopped the bleeding. Second by second, blood flooded back into his face, giving him the colour that seemed to have been leached from his skin.

He nodded, his smile seeming as though it pained him less. His hand slipped from her knee, coming up to wrap itself around hers. The cloth fell from her fingers and onto the grass. Her fingers were still wet, though in the dim light she couldn’t tell if it was from water or lingering blood. She didn’t have the stomach to find out.

“You said you didn’t bring me on this quest because of my mother,” she said cautiously. Her heart was pounding in her chest. “So why did you?”

A soft squeeze of her hand. “This wasn’t a quest I wanted to do without you,” he said. “I like having you by my side. You give me strength.”

She was sure he could feel her pulse beating rapidly in her fingers, but he didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t need to. It was entirely likely that he was able to read her mind, he knew her so well. And she was okay with that.

“You’re stupid, you know,” she said, but her voice wavered.

“Stupidly brave?” he suggested. “Stupidly handsome? Stupidly charming?”

“I’m supposed to be supporting you right now,” she grumbled. “Not the other way around.”

His cocky grin was back and her heart fluttered. “Which one is it?”

“Which what?”

“Stupidly brave, handsome, or charming?”

All three, she thought. All three and so much more.

“Stupidly stupid,” she decided.

Her thumb grazed his cheekbone, the one without the scar, and a shiver ran through his body. His hand tightened on hers and his smile softened into something more personal. It was the kind of smile she would have leapt into Tartarus to ensure its permanence on his lips. Soft and kind and reserved just for her. If she'd been standing, her knees would have buckled.

“You give me strength, too,” she murmured.

A sliver of hair slipped in front of her eyes, and moments later, Luke’s free hand was there, gently brushing it away. His eyes sparkled. They seemed clearer now, less agonised.

The events of the last hour - gods, it had felt like much longer - came crashing back onto her at his touch, asphyxiating and terrifying. Overwhelming guilt filled her veins and arteries with terrible speed, sapping all the strength from her bones. Her fingers trembled once more.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her throat felt suddenly raw. “If I’d done a better job distracting Ladon, maybe you wouldn’t be hurt.”

Luke’s eyes were dark for a moment, swirling with something she couldn’t identify, but they softened seconds later. His hand rested on her cheek, warm and comforting, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at his eyes now.

“This is not your fault,” he said, and his voice was remarkably strong. “This is the gods’ fault. It’s my father’s fault. But it is not your fault.”

She tried to believe him, truly she did, but looking at the fresh scar on his face, even having been almost entirely healed with nectar, had her heart heavy in her chest.

He knew this. Gods, he knew her every thought. His hand slipped from hers, cupping her other cheek and tilting her head so that she would look at him properly. There was a flush to his cheeks now - good, it meant he was getting better.

“My father did this,” he insisted. “You hear me? This was not you. And, gods, believe me when I say that I’m glad it was me that went for the apples and not you. I couldn’t live with myself if you got injured.”

But you did, she wanted to say - no, scream. How do I live with that?

“I’m okay,” he said softly, cautiously, as if talking to a child who had just woken from a nightmare. “I’m okay.”

His hand fell from her face, taking hers in its grip once more, and placed her fingers on the newly formed scar.

She jerked back, terrified that the sensation would cause him more pain, but he just gave her that smile again, the one that made her knees feel like jelly, and pressed her fingers to it once more. Already, the skin was raised and slightly twisted, accommodating for the injury. She could faintly feel his pulse beneath his skin, slow and infuriatingly steady.

“It doesn't hurt,” he promised. His voice was so reassuring that she could feel it in her bones, and she was half-convinced he was secretly a child of Aphrodite, blessed with charmspeak. “I’m okay because of you.”

Her throat was achy. “And Beckendorf.”

He gave a small laugh. “And Beckendorf. But mainly you. You’ve given me strength.”

It was then that the world itself seemed to stop. He was leaning upwards, bringing her face close to his, and his lips brushed hers so softly that she feared she may have been dreaming the entire encounter.

She could taste the faint remnants of metallic blood, though it was easily brushed aside. Luke’s lips were slightly wind-chapped but she found herself uncaring when they slotted perfectly against hers.

This kiss was something she had been waiting years for, and it was better than she could have ever dreamed. The feeling of his hands on her, his lips against hers, it was something that could not be replicated in a dream, like flying for the first time and feeling the clouds beneath your fingers.

It was addictive, more so than the stupid apples that had caused Luke such pain, and she found herself wanting more. It was an effort to pull away from him, but eventually, she did. Beckendorf was only a few feet away and she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. It would make for an awkward journey home.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” Luke murmured.

Finally, there was a smile tugging on her lips again. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting.”

It took another hour or so before Luke was well enough to get moving. The dark trails gave all of them a bad feeling, and (y/n) wasn’t able to shake the almost hypnotic choral voices of the Hesperides until they were out of the State Park. Luke was shaky on his feet for a little while but his strength was returning.

And with it came anger.

Not anger at (y/n) or Beckendorf, no. He still smiled at them as usual, fingers entwined with (y/n)’s so tightly it was as though he was afraid she would slip away. Jokes still slipped past his lips despite the events of the evening.

But he was filled with fiery rage. It was hidden, but (y/n) could read him like a book. She had seen the inklings of it throughout the previous days of their quest, had seen it more clearly while she was cleaning the blood from his face - this anger, though, was pure. Harder to mask.

He had already been furious with his quest, a detail he had tried to keep hidden from her. He hated the idea of repeating history and the fact that this quest was simply made to satiate him, to prevent him from growing restless at camp and questioning the authority of the gods.

This was a breaking point.

It became clearer the more time passed. As the days and weeks went by, he would hold her hand like a lifeline and kiss her so softly it felt as though she was dreaming, but the anger never left. It ate away at him, dimming his smiles and reducing any respect he had left for the gods until there was nothing left but a shadow of what had once been there.

The scar never faded. It became a reminder of what he believed to be the gods’ failure. His failure.

He was still her Luke. The Luke she had known and loved since she was thirteen. She was just terrified of what he might become.

#givemea-dam-break #luke castellan x reader #pjo luke x reader #pjo luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #luke castellan #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #x reader #fanfiction #luke castellan fanfiction #pjo fanfiction

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atelierlili · 1 month

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This is the second time, this annoying asshole has come to crying/complaining about the skintone of MY Katniss. When it happened the first time, I gave the user the benefit of doubt as Katniss skin tone is only mentioned in the book and in the movies she's portrayed by the pale Jennifer Lawerence. But since this topic crop it's ugly head around again, it's coming off as very racist and woefully unwelcomed, @bethaniagia.

I want to preface this incase someone wants to twist my words, I have nothing against black people and I don't wish to offend anyone when I say my Katniss isn't black. I don't portray her the way I do with the intent to characterize her a person of black descent. Aside from being part Seam and Merchant, Katniss is racially ambiguous. The only canon thing we know from the books is that she has darker skin than those of the merchant class and sliver eyes. Therefore it's within my right to portray her however the fuck I want to portray her. And I portray her as someone as Seam descent.

Now i'm going to gush over MY Katniss because I love her exactly the way she is and no one will convince me otherwise to change her. I love her dark skin, the rich warm hue that's reminiscent of the woods and the forests she loves so dearly. I love how it makes her silver eyes pop and how it makes her favourite colour, green, shimmer off her skin. I love giving her a reddish, warm undertone, indicative of her inner fire. She's our girl on fire, after all.

I love how her darker skin tone is visual indicator off the very real class divide that exists within District 12 and how her relationship with Peeta and her mother and father, display that class CAN be crossed and genuine love can be find despite it all. Katniss holds her identity of Seam close to her. The movies cut it out, like it does many things, but that doesn't mean its no less important, no less meaningful. So if I wish to portray this class divide through her skin tone, I can and I will.

Anyway, @bethaniagia, I just want to say your behaviour is very not cool and its, quite plainly, shitty community/fandom etiquette and behaviour. I take time out of my day to share and create my silly drawings of Miss Katniss Everdeen kissing her boyfriend. If you don't like it, block and turn the other cheek. This kind of attitude KILLS engagement and fun in any community. It can cripple the the motivation to share work with the fandom. I don't give a shit. I do what I want. But I KNOW there are writers and artists that keep thier work to themselves because they're worried about blacklash from people like you.

Now, I don't expect you to give it nor do I expect you to read to the end of this post, but I'd like an apology, otherwise, I'll be blocking you at the end of the week. I'd like to keep this up long enough for you to read it. :)

#blasting your ass because idgf. I'm petty af.#let my followers see for themselves #this started as a callout that turned into something else #but whatever I don't care #someone started yapping first so I can do the fuck I want #might be overreacting #but I'm just not having it today #the hunger games #thg #katniss everdeen #everlark

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whatifwekissedatneocity · 6 months

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be with you

multiple bsd characters x reader. reader is gn (gender neutral).

about: dates with bsd characters. established relationship

featuring: dazai, chuuya, atsushi, akutagawa, ranpo

notes: atsushi is referred to as “jinko” (white tiger) in aku’s part

kiel notes: idk if you can tell whose part is more self indulgent LMAOOO managed this during writer’s block i think im a god. kidding

DAZAI — cosy colouring book date at home

dazai recently bought colouring books from the bookstore. he said along the lines of “exploring creativity,” but really, he’s just lazy and broke for outdoor dates. you didn’t mind, though; quality time is still time spent with your lover.

worn out faber castell colour pencils are splayed out on his futon, and you both are lying on your stomachs. he kicks his legs and fills the empty pages with different colours. a peaceful and quiet retreat from the world with dazai gently humming a song you can’t quite make out, only to be disturbed by the gentle sounds and laughter of lovers.

“why’s the penguin yellow?” you giggle, and he pouts.

“have you seen club penguin? all the penguins have different cute colours!” he shades another penguin green and you rolled your eyes. “that game is dead, though..” you remarked, and he scoffed playfully. “not dead in my heart."

being childish and immature with the right person truly heals your inner child.

CHUUYA — aquarium (his mayoi card!!)

chuuya’s gloved hand held your hand as you both strolled through the tanks. your fingers traced the outlines of the fish as they swam close. he points at an ugly fish and laughs, “it looks like you." your jaw drops because that fish was actually ugly. it was your turn to exact revenge, and you point towards a small fry fish, saying, “and that’s you." you stick your tongue out at him and his mouth twitches in amusement. talk shit get hit.

your fish and his fish swam to each other and circled in a dance. he chuckles, “maybe that’s actually us,” he watches the fish swim away, and you beamed, “we could rule the fish kingdom together!” his eyes soften when he sees your bright smile illuminated under the blue aquarium light, before he smirks again.

“yeah yeah, you don’t even know how to swim,” ouch. there’s some truth in his words, and you can only sigh. fishes are naturally good at swimming, so it wouldn’t be a problem if you guys were one.

he sends you both back home by piggybacking you and zipping through the city. you hold your shoes in one hand after a long day of walking, and you grip the shark plushie he won at the aquarium in another.

ATSUSHI — cuddling in a pillow fort

you throw a blanket over the pillow fort you and atsushi have built in the last ten minutes. he struggles to let the fairy lights stay put as he pulls them around the fort.

“get in already!” you pat the spot beside you impatiently, and he crawls in. your laptop rests on his right thigh and your left thigh, sharing a movie screen. it’s a movie marathon on a rainy day. the horror movie plays, and atsushi hides his face in your neck when a jump scare appears.

lightning flashes outside and thunder roars, sending the poor boy flinching a little. you felt bad, so you decided to call off the marathon (not even one movie in) “okay no more, we can just cuddle." you close the laptop screen, and he lays on your lap. your fingers twirl his soft hair, and he purrs softly. atsushi’s soft purring and the soft pitter-patter of the raindrops outside lull you to sleep. you lay your back against the fort gently, eyes closed and relaxed with your lover.

AKUTAGAWA — cat cafe

it took a lot of convincing for akutagawa to go on this date. he didn’t like going to a cafe with the same species and animal family as atsushi. he agreed anyway because he didn’t want to see you upset (good).

you sat on the floor and wiggled a feather toy around while akutagawa fed lickable treats. many cats surrounded him and rubbed their bodies against his thighs. a white cat that oddly resembles a tiger approaches him, and he moves the treat away.

“ryu, you’re so mean.” you clicked your tongue and fed the white cat some of your treats. “it looks like jinko.” he grumbled and stared at the cat with his void eyes. at this point atsushi is your boyfriend’s boyfriend.

akutagawa uses his ability to create a mini cat tower for the cats surrounding him. you can’t help but giggle at his helplessness when the cats jump on him. they seem like to him a lot, well, except for that one cat he denied of treats.

on your way back home, you told him he looked like a tuxedo cat. he only cocks an eyebrow at you, not questioning your weird comparison.

RANPO — dessert tasting

a flyer comes into the agency’s mail, and ranpo is already dragging you down the busy afternoon streets. “come y/n, we have to go. it’s an important mission.” his grabs your wrist tightly and enters the cafe. mission? at a cafe?

what came into the mail was a notice for a dessert tasting at a cafe before their grand opening. ranpo could already discern the flyer’s content when atsushi walked in with a bunch of letters. who in the right mind would turn down free sweet treats? obviously not ranpo.

the waitress brings out pastries after pastries, and ranpo pushes his glasses up, acting like a food critic.

“hm, these scones are not sweet enough. the texture is too chewy.” he moves on and shoves a spoonful of gelato into his mouth. “i like the gelato. it’s sweet for my liking.” he nods approvingly, and you laugh, wiping the cream off the edge of his mouth. “slow down, the greatest food critic. we’re here to enjoy the desserts too.”

“if they don’t want to lose a customer like me, then i’d better say something about their recipe before their grand opening.” he’s got a point. you doubt he’d actually frequent this cafe, though, because he only came today for free desserts. you both get ramune to cleanse your palate afterwards (not that it helps).

main menu ☆

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aardvaark · 1 month

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pushing daisies is really a show like no other. the plot is about death and murder, but the themes are about love and beauty in the mundane. its a surreal & absurd & comical fairytale… and also a crime show. it’s sweet & beautiful & almost reminds you of childhood movies, until you get hit with some double entendre out of left field lol. the sets & backdrops somehow contain the bright colours that only existed when you were a kid. the concept is amazing & unique, and will make you ugly cry while thinking about the meaning of life. it’s so gorgeous.

#pushing daisies #wren speaks

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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years

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Eddie Munson x fem!reader [3.3k] autumn, a horror movie, a boy that smells like sugar and spice and tastes like hot chocolate.

PART ONE - SWEATER WEATHER

Watching horror movies with Eddie had become a weekly habit, a new tradition that slipped into your life the way fall blew into town. With a burst of fresh air, warm colours, rolling in like a sudden downpour, the smell of rain and fallen leaves, spice, smoke and boy.

Eddie’s uncle had fixed you car for you, enough that it ran without screaming bloody murder, anyway. The older man had accepted a tray of homemade cinnamon rolls as a thanks, waving away the cash that you tucked in an envelope with it, telling you that he liked banana bread too, and to look after his boy.

You weren’t sure who’d blushed harder at that, yourself or Eddie, but you discovered that day that the boy looked entirely too pretty with pink, flushed cheeks.

You’d spent three Friday’s in Eddie’s trailer with him, always after work when the evenings were slipping into darkness, autumn coming into Hawkins fast. It brought sleepy mornings and gloomy afternoons, the sky already inky when you left your job at the bookstore around six o’clock and your car barely had time to heat up on the way to the trailer park before you were clambering back out and knocking on the Munson’s door.

Sometimes Wayne answered, quick to leave once he’d greeted you warmly and yelled for his nephew, always an excuse about a car auction to see, or a much needed trip to the grocery store. But he’d always wink at you both when he left and you were beginning to think the man was just trying to give you both time alone.

Not that it mattered, not really.

Nothing had happened. Not past watching movies and sharing conversation. And it’s not like you were only visiting Eddie in the hopes that you’d make out and roll around in his bed, no, not at all. You loved talking to the boy, your chats growing sleepy and slow as the night waned on and the movie credits rolled in the background. You loved the way you’d slip down the corner of the sofa, heavy with sleep and hot cocoa, toes touching Eddie’s from the otherside of the couch, knees finally bumping when shyness gave way to curiosity and temptation.

You didn’t visit in the hopes for a kiss. But that didn’t mean you didn’t want one.

Your fourth Friday at Eddie’s meant Texas Chainsaw Massacre and your turn to bring snacks. So you packed a Tupperware box full of homemade cookies, chunky orange chocolate chips buried in the thick biscuit. You picked up some chips too, just in case, a packet of red vines and M&M’s because Eddie got the munchies after a joint or two.

The cold nipped at your skin as you drove over, the threat of a drizzle looming in the dark clouds and you passed streets lined with jack ‘o’ lanterns, ugly carved faces in the lead up to Halloween. The trailer park was lit up with them too, an orange glow from each door step, the smell of cinnamon and cloves from Mrs Geller's trailer next door.

Eddie told you last time that you didn’t need to knock, not anymore. And Wayne’s car wasn’t in the drive, but you were still hesitant, fist curled and ready to tap on the front door but your hands were too full, the box of cookies threatening to tumblr to the dirt.

So you took a deep breath and opened the door, the shy squeak of the hinges announcing your arrival. The trailer was quiet, the tv on but only showing static, the low crackle of it filling the small living area. The entire place smelled like chocolate and mint, sugar and cologne from a boy you couldn’t find.

There was a pot simmering on the stove, melted chocolate bubbling gently, the source of the smell and you set your things down on the counter beside it. Before you could call out for him, Eddie appeared down the hall, his bedroom door opening to reveal him already smiling.

This Eddie was your favourite Eddie.

Grey sweatpants and an old band t-shirt, the logo faded from wear and the sun, a small hole at the collar. It showed off the tattoos on his arms, the lines of muscles there that always surprised you. He looked fresh from a shower, all soft curls and smelling like peppercorn and cedar, spicy and earthy.

He grinned when he saw you, more like beamed, really. Eddie had the talent to light up the room when he smiled, a wide, slow stretch of his lips, dimples on show, brown eyes turning to caramel. You looked at him and saw the last of summer, the first days of fall; all dark eyes and dark hair, warm like coffee, big sweaters, flannels tied around his waist, the comfort of a heavy hand on the small of your back.

“Well hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, and god it hurt your heart with how genuinely happy he looked to see you. “Whatcha got there?”

He was behind you before you could answer, almost too close, the heat of him pressed against your back, his broad chest brushing against you as he peered over your shoulder, inspecting the tupperware. His curls brushed your cheek as he leant in and you could smell sandalwood and mint.

“Cookies?” he murmured, and you warmed at how close he was, how he spoke by your ear, oblivious to the flush on your chest. “You spoil me.”

“Mhm, chocolate orange,” you mumbled back, swaying a little clumsy on your feet, your back bumping into the solid expanse of his chest and Eddie brought a hand to your waist to steady you, a small smile that you couldn't see, toying at his lips.

“They smell amazing,” he told you and he only moved to stir the hot chocolate that was still on the stove top, a large bag of baby pink marshmallows sitting next to it.

You watched him as he pulled mugs from the shelves, your favourite one in his hand first, a deep cup that looked handmade, its rim a little wobbly, the clay a pretty plum colour. Eddie filled it with hot chocolate, marshmallows blooming and melting on top and you knew when you settled on the sofa to drink it, he’d lean over and brush the sugar from your cheek, grinning when you flushed.

It was routine, it was a habit, it was a Friday night tradition that you longed for throughout the week.

“You go get comfy, sweetheart, I’ll bring these over,” Eddie told you, a mug in each hand and you grabbed the treats, eager to settle into the corner of the sofa.

The lights inside the trailer were low, the lamp by Wayne’s armchair the only other source apart from the television. It made the night a little warmer, but Eddie set the cups on the coffee table, disappearing back into his room only for a few seconds and he returned with a sweater, throwing it playfully at you.

You grinned, pulling it over your head, not caring that it mussed your hair, and the soft, black cotton swamped your frame. It was the same one he’d given you the day he’d picked you up. Your favourite.

“For someone who told me I’d never get that back, you do leave it here an awful lot,” Eddie smiled, eyes fond as he watched you pull the hem of it down over your thighs. “You’re a terrible thief, you know?”

You weren’t really thinking when you murmured happily, “it smells like you now.”

You were sure you would’ve been more mortified at your admission if Eddie hadn’t beamed, his smile lighting up the room, the highs of his cheeks turning pink and Christ, he looked so pleased at your honesty. Neither of you said anything else, you weren’t sure if you trusted yourself to, so you settled back into the sofa and didn’t look back at him until you’d drained your hot cocoa and a leatherface had killed his first two victims.

And when Eddie had managed three of your cookies, sounds of appreciation coming from his lips like sin, he’d finally turned off the lamp and stretched himself out on the other end of the sofa. The movie made the room flicker, the light low and casting shadows across the two of you like a blanket.

That easy familiarity found its way back to you both, the kind that made you lazy, socked feet tucked into the cushions, so close to Eddie’s thighs. There was a different kind of buzz in the air that night, an anticipation that came from something other than the horror movie on screen. It itched at your skin the same way, like a fizz of impatience, like knowing something was coming. It didn’t scare you as much, this feeling, not like it used to.

It’s why you let yourself slouch lower into your seat, toes pushing underneath Eddie’s thighs in the guise of seeking warmth. He didn’t seem to mind, not if his smile was anything to go by. His weight was a solid heat against you, only your feet and his leg touching, innocent by miles. But Jesus, it burned you.

Eddie Munson was all familiar touches, achingly sweet brushes of his hand against yours when he was near, a thumb swiped on your cheek, chasing marshmallow fluff and whipped cream. And in the dark, like this, he sometimes felt brave enough to push against the corner of your mouth, always fleeting. He was a hug goodbye at the end of the night, arms low on your waist, fingers always close to pressing underneath your shirt, like a heat seeking missile to warm, bare skin.

Eddie Munson was the kiss that never came.

At least, not yet.

“Cold?” he asked, brown eyes shockingly dark in the low light.

He was watching you from under thick lashes, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, fingers without his rings for once, and you ached to tangle your own in them, to let him pull you into him. You could, you thought. Why didn’t you? You wondered.

But you shook your head, smile suddenly shy and you couldn’t help but feel as disappointed as Eddie looked with your answer. Why on earth had you said no? But then the boy was trying again, throwing you another opportunity with another soft, quiet question, lips lifting at the corners like he wanted you to know he wasn’t going to bite.

“Scared?” there was a laugh in his voice, hidden like a secret, like a private joke, like he knew you weren’t but good god, what else could he say in order to get you to come closer?

You ducked your chin, hiding the smile that you knew would give you away, eyes back on the screen just in time to see leatherface grab Vanita Brock and drag her back into the house. Your gaze flicked back to Eddie, all fond and soft, lips twisted in thought.

“I mean,” you started, nose wrinkled, “he’s not the most wholesome of characters, is he?”

You were rewarded with a laugh, a huff of breath and a small snort from the boy as he pushed himself upright, leg slipping away from your feet and his back against the sofa. He was looking at you all prettily, like he was flirting, like he wanted you to not be able to look away.

You didn’t.

“I wouldn’t say leatherface is winning any awards for the best welcoming committee, no,” Eddie grinned, and then he curled his hand towards you, a soft beckon, a question.

You waited, hardly breathing.

“C’mere,” he whispered, “if you’re scared,” he added, sounding more nervous than you felt.

The boy suddenly seemed more terrifying than the movie. Eddie was scary in the softest way, all worn cotton sweats, low on his hips. He was big, brown eyes and messy curls, hands that seemed like they could hold you real tight, he was sugar and spice and a heat that wasn’t normal for autumn time. He looked like he could swallow you whole, and you ached for it.

It was alarming.

Disorientating, dizzying, how much you wanted to kiss him. A whole other type of horror. What if he said no? What if he didn’t want to? What if this wasn’t what you thought it was?

But then you were moving because Eddie was still waiting, eyes expectant on you, arm still thrown out as if inviting you in. And then it all became a little blurry because you got too brave, too impatient and your knees were squished into the cushions as you half crawled, half fell towards him, a leg thrown over his lap as you settled yourself over him, hands clutching at his shoulders.

It’s not what he meant, you were sure of it. This isn’t what he was offering. But he didn’t push you off. He stared at you though, wide eyed and slack jawed, his gaze dark like the night outside. Eddie looked surprised but not at all unhappy. His hands were slow as they made their way to your legs, like still wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch you, despite the way your hips were flush over his, the heat of the inside of your thighs pressed to the outside of his.

“Is this okay?” you whispered, and somewhere in the background, a girl on the screen screamed.

Eddie swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat and he nodded.

“I’ve been wanting you to kiss me,” you admitted and your voice was a low murmur, sticky sweet like the hot chocolate, like honey. “But I wasn’t really sure if you were ever gonna do it.”

You let out a shaky breath, chest hitching, your skin overly warm under the wide expanse of Eddie’s hands on your upper thighs. It burned through the denim of your jeans, it made you wanna squirm, it made you feel bold.

You caught his gaze with yours, still somehow shy from under your lashes, blinking prettily at him. You watched his jaw slacken, felt the way his fingers curled a little tighter around your legs.

“So I thought I could maybe kiss you instead,” you told him, like a secret, like a confession.

He made a choked sound at the back of his throat, eyes widening slightly before he licked at his bottom lip and shifted a little underneath you. He smiled then, softening the nerves that were scratching at the sides of your tummy, a slow, wide smile that showed off a dimple, the kind that turned his eyes the colour of toffee.

“Yeah?” he asked you and the sound of his voice buried its way into your heart.

You nodded and he tucked his chin to his chest, held tilted to look at you all shy, an achingly obvious show of affection hidden in his stare. Your bravery seemed to rub off of him though, or, maybe he’d had more of it all along.

Because Eddie nodded too, palms rubbing encouragingly up and down your legs, “go on then, sweetheart.” Oh.

Oh.

It took you a second, maybe two, but then you were leaning in all slow, nerves fluttering, chest still, breath burning in your throat. But you pressed your lips to Eddie’s, a soft meeting, that lazy push of your mouth that made his bottom lip melt between yours.

It was fleeting, a quick but soft kiss that felt like the beginning.

You pulled back with your eyes still closed, your hands curled into Eddie’s shirt collar, like you weren’t ready to let this end yet. But you didn’t have to worry about such a thing, because when your lashes fluttered once, twice, and you peered at the boy, he was already gazing at you, grinning.

He spoke around a smile, hands trailing higher up your legs until his thumbs were pushed into the crease between your thighs and your hips. Eddie held you there, steady.

“Can I kiss you now?” he asked.

You nodded, something else blooming in your tummy at his words and Eddie brought one hand between you both, fingers crooked to beckon you again, and you leaned back in. When you were close enough, he hooked a finger and thumb on your chin, smiling when he heard your breath hitch.

The pad of his thumb caught the edge of your bottom lip, the soft curve of it and he was mesmerised by the way it turned pliant under his touch.

“Is this okay?” he murmured your own words back to you, waiting patiently until you nodded.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” Eddie told you and then he was pulling to down to meet him, fingers splaying across the length of your jaw, a slow drag into your hair.

His lips met yours again, soft like you’d kissed him, more gentle than he needed to be. He was real sweet with you, thumb pushing to the corner of your lip, coaxing you open. And then his tongue slid along yours and you let out a whimper, a soft, gasping little noise - and that’s when Eddie knew he was a goner.

You were suddenly pressed to him, noses pushed to each other's cheek in a desperation to be closer, one hand releasing his shirt so you could mirror him, your palm cupping his face, his curls trapped between your touch. You didn’t think you’d ever been kissed like that, felt anything like the way Eddie felt.

He tasted like chocolate orange, like sugar and smoke. He made noises that were as pretty as him when you pushed yourself closer, hips dragging over his and his hand flew to your waist to catch you, pushing impatiently underneath his own sweater so he could palm at the soft of your skin. The credits were rolling behind you, the screen fading to black and making the living room darker than it had been and all you could see behind your closed eyelids were shadows and stars. Eddie engulfed you, the feel of him, the smell of him, the taste of him and it was dizzying. He kissed you like he’d been waiting, like he'd wanted it for as long as you had.

He pulled at your waist, soft and encouraging, never demanding and you felt his smile against your lips when you moved, shuffling closer so he could lick into your mouth deeper. It was dizzying, slow and lazy, like you had all the time in the world.

Maybe you did.

Another noise escaped you, a sharp gasp, ending in a little moan and it had Eddie reeling, his breath hitching, lips brushing once, twice over yours before he pulled back only slightly.

“Wanna know somethin’?” he whispered and a bubble of excitement popped inside of you, like he was trusting you with something precious.

You smiled, nodding, the tip of your nose brushing Eddie’s and he squeezed at your waist, a touch that was full of affection. He swallowed thickly, his top lip grazing your bottom one. It was meant to tease, but he gave in way too easily, kissing away your grin.

Eddie whispered his secret into your mouth, sharing the same breath, the same smile.

“I got the biggest fuckin’ crush on you, sweetheart.”

His words were sweeter than the hot chocolate on his tongue.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #strangers things #stranger fic #eddie munson imagine

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