#and this is coming from someone who despises South Park

[chongoblog]

The definition of “art” is incredibly abstract and varies from person to person, but if it doesn’t include South Park, then I think it’s being too gatekeepy

[knightinink]

🔥So, Why Dip?☕

Well, I’ll tell ‘ya. Get your blankets & warm drinks, & get ready for a fireside chat with me about why I absolutely, positively, love Dip.

🔥 ☕

Their characters are so interesting to me, because on the surface, they seem like night & day; complete opposites that would never get along with one another. Digging a little deeper into their character, however, reveals that there’s more to them than initially meets the eye.

-Damien Thorn is the angry son of Satan. On the surface, he’s loud, disruptive, & prone to violence. He stands up on tables & desks, throws things & people around with his demonic abilities, & sets things on fire, among many other inferred powers that he inherited from his father.

-Phillip “Pip” Pirrup is an orphaned English boy who came to the little town of South Park from England. On the surface, he’s a very happy-go-lucky kid, always willing to put others before himself, seeming to not have a mean bone in his body (except for maybe during the dodgeball games).

These characters seem like they have nothing in common & would never be seen together, but they go a lot deeper than that, & they are more similar than one might think.

-Damien Thorn is the son of Satan, someone who’s constantly on the move, & thus his son must follow. Because of this, Damien never gets the chance to make & keep friends, resulting in him being a very lonely kid. Someone in Satan’s position has a lot of responsibility; being the ruler of Hell is a very taxing job, & is one that keeps him very busy. When Satan’s not drowning in work, he’s off with his new boyfriend doing who knows what. Between work & his romantic endeavors, Satan has very little time for Damien, resulting in his kid not being payed much attention by the only family member he has, & the only other person he’s really known. Parental involvement is very important for a kid Damien’s age (8yrs), & because he’s not getting it, he acts out to get attention. This has worked for him at home, so he figures it’ll work when he goes to a new school, & behaves in a chaotic manner as mentioned above. He acts this way because he knows that it works to get him the attention he wants (but what he wants is positive attention, & his acting out doesn’t get him that, but at this point he’s desperate & takes what he can get).

-Phillip “Pip” Pirrup was orphaned at a young age, left with only his eldest sister of more than 20yrs to look after him, alongside her husband Joe Gargery. Pip’s sister resents his existence, & makes sure to remind him of this daily, & is verbally, physically, & emotionally abusive towards him. Pip doesn’t seem bothered much by this however, but perhaps maybe he just deals with it by keeping a smile on his face & looking on the bright side of things. Joe is the complete opposite of his wife: none-too bright, but is very caring & emotionally aware, & looks out for Pip whenever he can. Everyone in this little town on the marshes seems to despise Pip as well, (including his short-lived love interest & girlfriend Estella); everyone but Joe, who is a trusted friend to Pip (as well as a father figure for him). Perhaps Joe is why Pip keeps smiling. Throughout the many misfortunes that happen to Pip while living in England, he always keeps his chin up, & he seems to keep this attitude when he comes over to the states. Unfortunately, everyone here despises him as well, or is weirded out by him, as he does not follow “normal” South Park customs at all. He dresses different & talks funny, so he is often resultingly singled-out among his peers & bullied by them (& some of the adults as well!). Learning that he is an orphan only fuels the fire, as he has no parental-figure with him to protect him, thus everyone can pick on him with practically no consequences.

Bottom line, both Pip & Damien are lonely kids who have no friends, no one they can relate to, no stable parental presence, & who seek out attention by acting out or becoming a punching bag.

-When they first meet, Pip tries reaching out to Damien, being a hand he can grab onto being the new kid in town & the new student in class. Pip knows what that’s like & no one ever really came to him to help him feel welcome, so when he has the opportunity to do just that, he takes it. Damien, not really knowing how to interact much with kids his own age, isn’t very friendly towards Pip, but he lets the blond stick around, as he would rather not be alone. Pip gets on his nerves with his cheeriness & optimism, but not enough for the demon to drive him away. This continues on for a few days & they seem to be growing just a little bit closer, but Damien still doesn’t know how to handle any feelings other than anger, so that’s what he barricades himself with. The demon does notice however, that the other boys at school seem a lot more popular than Pip, & his desire to be given attention overrides any other desire he has, resulting in The Dip Firework Incident Of ‘98. The Betrayal.

-As Damien is walking with the other boys to go watch the boxing match between his father & Jesus, the wailing sirens of an ambulance rushing by makes him feel a tightness in his chest, in a way he can’t describe. He doesn’t want to look wimpy in front of his new friends though, so he pushes that feeling down. He doesn’t recognize it nor does he know what it is, but he would later piece together that what he was feeling was regret, remorse, & guilt.

-When Satan wins the match & goes back down to Hell, Damien must go with him & leave all of his new friends. As soon as he left the vicinity however, he could just overhear them saying how they felt bad for him, but he was still some weirdo-freaky kid, & they were relieved someone so dangerous was finally leaving & things could go back to normal. Feeling betrayed himself, those feelings from earlier come back, & he doesn’t know what, but something within him is telling him to go find the little British boy & apologize to him, remembering some faint memory of his father once telling him to “treat others how you would want to be treated”, & all Damien wanted right now was to feel better from the betrayal of the other boys, slowly realizing the blond must be feeling the same way. He deserves an apology, at the very least. (this fic details where their relationship is when Damien goes back down to Hell with his father) (tldr; they’re good, Damien felt bad & apologized & Pip forgave him)

-Fast-forwarding to when Pip gets killed by Mecha Streisand-

-To make things more angsty because I always love that, I think Pip would be sent up to Heaven first, adorned with new wings & a halo, & would be awaiting all day among a huge crowd of people to be checked in at the pearly gates. Once it’s finally his turn, however, he is denied entry, & he is crestfallen; he thought he had always been such a good boy while he was alive, he was sure of it! But they point out his count of murder (Miss Havisham), arson (The Satis House), & worst of all, befriending the son of the devil. Before he can get a word in, they rip his wings & halo away from him & -quite literally- kick him out of Heaven & down into Hell. He lands there, wounded, & Satan is immediately notified of a newly arrived Fallen into Hell, & brings Damien along with him (pt3 of this fic!). 

-While Pip’s on the mend, he & Damien spend a lot of time together, & by the time he’s completely healed, the two have become inseparable.

-They finally, finally have someone who will give them the time of day, & be interested in what they have to say!

-As I’ve talked about here a couple times before, my favorite way to characterize Damien is that he puts up an angry, mean front to protect himself from getting hurt, because deep down inside, he’s a very insecure little kid with no one else like him that he can relate to, & he’s very afraid of what could happen if others were to see this side of him; who he really is. He’s often very unsure of himself, seeing who his father is & all the responsibility he’ll have to take on one day. He’s scared of doing the wrong thing, & ending up alone for his entire life, one way or another. While spending time with Pip though, those angry walls start to break down over time, & they eventually fall completely to Pip only, showing him who the real Damien Thorn is. & Pip accepts him completely. With time, Pip also helps Damien to better understand his emotions, & Damien is eternally grateful to him, feeling the best he ever has about himself.

-Pip would also finally  have someone he feels completely safe with, & isn’t someone who’s going to use him like everyone else had. He didn’t come out from the firework incident unscathed, but after Damien is genuinely remorseful & apologetic, Pip forgives him & Damien helps him heal with that aspect of himself. I feel that Pip also puts walls up to protect himself, but in a different way. Pip’s an emotional kid, always has been. He puts others before himself constantly, & all the torment he goes through strains him. He’s someone who cries when he’s alone, & bottles up his emotions to please others. & he cries a lot. Damien is the first one to see him cry in a long time, & despite not really knowing how to act as a shoulder to cry on, he would do his best to help Pip feel better. Damien also teaches Pip how to stand up for himself, or at the very least, to not just take what others do to him laying down.

-They get to see who the other really is; see them vulnerable, at their best & at their worst. They instill a sense of confidence & self-love in each other. They are the first to understand each other, having someone who just gets you in a way that no one has ever achieved before. They finally have found someone who they can just be themselves around, without fear of judgement or ridicule, & their relationship continues to grow each & every day they spend together.

-Bonus Married-Couple Dip!-

-They are able to have wordless conversations by this point, communicating through looks & actions when it works better than words. One thing I really like to focus on is Pip’s burn scars, & how he & Damien navigate them together.

-Pip has :Good days (where he’ll wear one of Damien’s tank tops) :Okay days (maybe a t-shirt or a long-sleeve) :Bad days (long-sleeve, jacket) :& Very bad days (he’s left crying at his appearance, swaddled up in the biggest most covering coat he has with fancy gloves on & a hat).

I detailed this a lot in this fic of mine, how Damien tries his best to make Pip feel better about himself, as his burn scars are something he still gets very insecure about. Damien will always love him unconditionally, though, & he reminds Pip of this every day.

-End Of The Bonus Content-

& that’s why I love Dip, there’s just so much to them that I love. They’re outcasts who stick together through thick-n-thin, someone who holds the other up when they’re down, & someone who they care so so much about. They’ve found more than friendship between them. 

They’ve found family.

[troublcmakcrs]

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Tweek said, grinning bitterly.  “I don’t think anybody saw the point in it or wanted to be there.  It’s not like hanging out with those guys was such a prize.”  He remembered that some people had been miffed about not being selected, could see them in his mind skulking off from their chairs, scowling and grumbling discontentedly.  Tweek had gotten more and more squirmy with every person who got eliminated, clutching the bottom of his seat with sweating palms and rocking side to side, hazarding skittish glances up at Cartman from time to time, hoping not to catch his eyes.  Once, he accidentally did and wrenched his eyes back down to the grass, his heart hammering.  Why am I here? he thought.  Why are any of us here?

Tweek tipped his head back and laughed again, bright and cheerful, when Kevin appeared to fret over being rude to Craig.  He waved off the other’s concerns and said, “Don’t worry about it—lambast him as much as you like.  He’s not here right now, and I certainly don’t care.”  He didn’t really despise Craig—there were kernels of good in everyone, and Tweek had seen the best and worst of him and came out of it believing there was enough of the good to be cherished, that if Craig took care to nurture and polish it, he could be something really great.  But Tweek played the ‘ex’ role even better than he had played the ‘boyfriend’ one, and well… the guy was an asshole.  Just because Craig had the makings of a good person didn’t mean he currently was.

“Shittalking Craig’s one of my favorite pastimes, so you don’t gotta worry about ripping open any tender sores.  Really, it is his loss.”

Honestly, Tweek had not known Kevin that well, much less any of his associates.  Looking back on it, he felt he had only a tenuous grasp on Kevin’s name, knowing him almost exclusively as one of the Star Trek kids, seemingly their de facto leader, while his actual name faded in and out of Tweek’s mind.  So, it was little wonder that he didn’t know the sister, either.  Despite South Park being so small, there were a lot of people that he didn’t know, but then, wasn’t it true that your brain could only really keep track of so many relationships, anyway?

Tweek gazed fondly at Kevin.  “You’re not a guy with a lot of strong opinions, are you?” he said, snickering a little bit.  It was so strange to be around someone like that.  Most everyone Tweek knew, including himself, were overly impassioned about something or another.  “You’re all, ‘That’s fine, I guess,’ or ‘I don’t want to sound rude.’”  It was probably why Craig had been so adamant about Kevin being a loser.  If people were even the least bit complacent about anything, he liked to bowl them over.  “I kind of like it; it’s… a change of pace.”  At least, he could be certain that Kevin wouldn’t hold any especial distaste for him if he ended up not taking to D&D.

It was a relief to hear about Red, too.  He thought she had been a little closer to Craig when they were growing up and therefore might hold some resentment toward himself about how everything went down between them.  There had been nothing she had said or done to Tweek that led him to think that—it was just a silly feeling he couldn’t shake, evidently his mind playing tricks on him, as it was wont to do.  Plus, if she was especially scary or icy, he could always turn around and run.

“All right, then—I’ll come along and sit in.  I’m generally good at realizing when I’ve overstayed my welcome, so I shouldn’t mess things up too bad.”

Honestly that'd make both of them. Kevin's never seen Cartman being more decent, nor heard of it, but there's no way someone could be that bad without any good in them... even if it was a sliver, right? Honestly he had that doubt even trying to think of it, so he doesn't blame Tweek for his response to those words. "I don't think anyone did. You're talking about the uh... replacing Kenny one right? Or I think that's what they were doing." He still doesn't understand that to this day and he probably never will.

Brows furrowing slightly in frustration, knowing that Craig liked Star Trek and practically either lied about it or just was an asshole to him personally about it was... annoying in a way. Of course Kevin also knew that Craig didn't like him, but he had assumed it was because of his love for Star Trek and the fact that he could be quite a nerd with his mind running many different thoughts that others probably wouldn't even dare to think about.

"Well it's his loss in the end really--." He pauses, scratching the back of his head. "Actually that was probably kind of rude of me, sorry. I just, never really let it bother me. I took it as a sign to stay away from him and left it at that. Can't be friends with everyone after all." He gives a bit of an awkward smile, he really just went about his own way most of the time and enjoyed what he did, not letting others drag him down.

To be fair, Kevin wouldn't be surprised if Tweek didn't know about Dougie and Esther, Dougie because he was younger and wasn't in the same class as them, and Esther because she often didn't say much nor was seen with Kevin, despite being his sister. To be fair though, the others could also be lesser known for reasons of avoiding most of the school. They were their own little group of people really. Bradley came and went quite often due to being a literal alien superhero, Nimue and Damien often sat by themselves and towards the back of the cafeteria away from others growing up, and Red often sat with the girls when she wasn't sitting with Kevin. 

Blinking for a moment, his smile grows a bit more as he shakes his head. "Red might seem like she hates someone but she usually lets people know when she's got a problem with them. I'm sure it'll be fine." Though he'll probably ask Red later just to make sure, and for Tweek's sake too so there's not some kind of hostility between the two. "Hey, there's no harm if you end up not liking it, or hating it. At least you're trying, some people just end up hating it before they actually try. I mean that's fine too I guess but it feels like you could miss out on something doing that."

[gumpwitch]

Two- Faced: The Spirit of God and the Devil

An Essay On Deconstructing Theology

by The Gump Witch

Some of my earliest memories are of Sunday mornings.

My hair is curled and I wear a dress of pastel blue or pink or purple. My shiny black shoes are already scuffed. I pick holes in my tights when my mother isn’t looking because I despise them. My mother dresses and styles me before herself. I am five and she is perfect.

The smell of hairspray and the same perfume my grandmother has worn every Sunday for as long as anyone can remember hangs thick in the atmosphere of the car. Sometimes I sleep as the blazing morning light warms my face through the windows. Sometimes I just stare as the soft, rolling backs of the distant Wichita mountains roll by on the horizon.

Eventually, our church comes into view, clear on the other side of town from where we enter. We are rural lakeside dwellers; we pilgrimage each week over twenty miles each way to attend. The building is all red brick, with a whitewashed steeple and cross jutting uncontested into the cloudless Oklahoma sky. The parking lot is colorless and baking in the sun. Concrete, because it is too hot in the southern midwest to use asphalt.

I do not want to go in.

I do not want to walk the lengthy, hot sidewalks up towards the many sets of doors. I do not want to dodge handbags and careless feet and reaching, pinching hands that all want to squeeze parts of my face. I do not want to have to sit there, ears plugged against the blaring music in the vestibule, nor do I want to be separated from my mother and grandmother and join the other children upstairs in Sunday school.

I do not want to be here at all.

These are my earliest memories of spending time in the being known as God’s presence: the distinct, overwhelming feeling that I did not want to be there at all.

Growing up, God always felt like this oppressive, overbearing third parent. He can see everything you do and hear everything you think. He doesn’t want you talking back to your parents. He doesn’t want you to eat too much cake. He doesn’t want you touching yourself in strange places. He doesn’t want you to spend too much time doing anything besides thinking about or talking to Him.

This, of course, is par for the course for anyone who grew up Pentecostal, Baptist, Methodist, any of the denominations that are even remotely tied to the massive, leaden umbrella of Evangelical Christianity. Pastors tell their congregants in the same breath of how good and loving God is, and then proceed to give a laundry list of all the normal and enjoyable and harmless things He doesn’t want his faithful to do.

It is no surprise that, when able to form the first independent thought of my own during early adolescence, that I veered sharply away from religion. I did everything I could not to go to church. I pretended to sleep too hard to hear when someone tried to wake me on Sunday morning. I feigned sickness and nightmares and injury. Why would I want to drag myself from bed early in the morning on one of the two days I didn’t have school just to go be lectured on how much I disappoint God?

Later on, after I had moved around and no longer saw my paternal grandparents as often, it was decided I would spend summers in the deep South with my maternal family. Sweet home Alabama, here I come.

Now, it is early June. It’s unbelievably humid here; the dry heat of Oklahoma at least doesn’t lie to me about how warm I really am. I think I’m hot in this moist, warm air, but really, I’m even hotter and I don’t even know it. Cicadas scream and bullfrogs croak in every body of water in the long, sticky evenings. Mosquitoes the size of my fingernails buzz lazily around the car as we make the drive from Birmingham to Montgomery.

There, on the side of the road, I see it: a landmark that has become famous the world over thanks to the power of the Internet. A white billboard with a simple slogan in blood red letters: GO TO CHURCH OR THE DEVIL WILL GET YOU. Beside it is depicted a similarly red man with a scythe and a pointed, skinny tail, grinning wickedly at all who drive past his perch on Highway 65.

This is my earliest memory of the one known as the Devil: a humid car ride, a frightful billboard, a threat as much as a promise boldly announced to the entire Interstate.

The South, as it turns out, is much more in-your-face about religion than the midwest. While there are churches on every block in Oklahoma, there are triple that amount in Alabama. Currently, in the two mile drive between my home and my downtown office in Montgomery, I pass no fewer than six different churches depending on my route.

Being in the South brought me face to face with a much different flavor of Evangelical Christianity: the one that breathed fire and rained down brimstone. This Christianity roared from pulpits about sin, both yours and that of your neighbor. This Christianity told you more about the Devil than it did about God, for this Christianity wanted to go to war, and in order to go to war, they needed an adversary to do battle with.

To my grandma, everything negative became a work of the Devil: my stubborn streak, our family’s propensity to overindulge in rich foods, mine and my cousins’ tendencies to sleep for long hours each day. All of these things that my grandma detested in us were surely the Devil’s work. These were demons in us that needed to be exercised. She believed this as firmly as she believed that she drew breath in order to live.

However, my grandma taught me a very important thing about Christianity, in that she was the living embodiment of its contradictions to itself. Though she sang gospel songs and hymns constantly and prayed and called out acts she disliked as the Devil’s works, she did not go to church. She didn’t like the people that went; she considered them all insufferable, self-righteous busybodies. The only person who was doing religion correctly, as far as she was concerned, was her. Everyone else was just pretending for brownie points.

By the time I was an adult, I was left only with these two impressions of the religion of my upbringing: judgment and doom. Disappointment and damnation. Strive for perfection, but even if you manage to attain it, you may go to hell anyway for not doing even more.

So I continued to turn my back on this faith. I continued to roll my eyes and quell my temper every time some stranger handed me a pamphlet about their church or someone fervently insisted that God loved me through a drive through window. The more present it was around me, the more I resented and drew away from it.

This land that I now live in is so, so saturated in this faith. In my city especially, it seems more ground is consecrated by some denomination or other than not. Churches both open and shuttered adorn every single street. Billboards loudly proclaiming that JESUS IS THE ANSWER and GOD IS PRO-LIFE and JESUS SAVES are everywhere you turn, outnumbered only by Alexander Shunnarah advertisements.

Maybe being confronted with this constant, everyday onslaught of this faith is what kept me turning the question of it over in my head. As I grew older, I made myself let go of that resentment I had for it. I was no longer a child being dragged unwilling to assembly, where the music was always too loud and the pastor was always too boring. My grandma has passed on from this world, no longer able to verbally bash me over the head with promises of damnation and hellfire. I can finally look at this faith from my own perspective and decide what I feel and believe about it.

Even before I cemented myself in my faith of the Eldest Ten, I came to a sudden and surprising realization: God and the Devil are the same thing.

I was struggling with some of the many social challenges that come with growing older. Being an only child who clung to friendships like the legs of absent parents, it was getting harder and harder for me to feel happy for people who were moving on in life and meeting new people. I was resentful. I was jealous. And I hated that I felt those things.

That’s when it clicked. I thought about the Bible stories that had been hammered into my head growing up, the Old Testament especially. The Great Flood, the Exodus from Egypt, Sodom and Gomorrah, all these and more. God had a lot of blood on His hands back in those days. I think, over time, He didn’t like that. There were parts of Him he couldn’t reconcile, parts that were ugly and mean and, yes, evil. So the Devil was born.

The Devil is all the things God doesn’t like about himself: his vengeance, his cunning, his manipulation and deceit. The Devil takes all these in stride. He’s the shadow that the light of God casts. One can’t exist without the other.

Since I do not revere any entities imagined by man to be true gods, God and the Devil are, then, spirits. They are, at the same time, two different spirits and two faces of the same spirit. When I say “God”, I mean the spirit of benevolence, of good, of hard, honest work. When I say “Devil”, I mean the spirit of darkness, of getting even, of refusing to turn the other cheek and instead biting back with full force.

I consider myself a folkloric pagan. Pagan, in that the gods I honor are the forces of Nature itself. Folkloric, in that the traditions and spirits I interact with are those that have been passed down through my family and community for generations. God and the Devil have been here as long as my settler ancestors have been here. To divorce them completely from my practice would be doing both my work and myself a disservice.

I may have a completely different understanding of them than my ancestors did, but the key here is that I have an understanding of them. I don’t write them off as some newfangled dogma that can’t be changed or reasoned with or shaped to fit my needs. I don’t frown when people tell me to have a blessed day or say “Look at God!” when something serendipitous happens to them. I’m happy for them. I’m happy for all of us.

And that’s what a lot of people just don’t understand, especially those not living in the South. So many modern witches from similar backgrounds to mine turn their noses up at any talk of God while also shying away from the word “Devil” as if it’s a disease. They forsake the very roots of their ancestors and then try to claim that what they practice is rooted in tradition.

No one likes feeling judged. No one likes feeling wrong. These are feelings that are all too often conflated with Christianity, and I know them well. But while I may never sit in a church on Sunday morning again, that doesn’t mean I can’t keep a piece of that magic in my pocket and carry it with me on my own terms.

God and I might have agreed to see other people, but it doesn’t mean we don’t still talk from time to time.

[junova]

↬ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

abstract — the one where the tables are turned. 

pairing — steve rogers x fem!reader 

wc — 1.6k 

warnings — unrequited feelings, fluff, angst, teasing!steve, cussing 

[m blabs] — this is not my best work but it was really fun to write! hope you enjoy nonetheless. happy reading! :’) ps this so cheesy i was in a moooooddddd pls it was fully inspired by the amazing tune love me again by raye (give it a listen she is a pure goddess)

Do you think he feels the same?” You questioned Sam as you watched Steve talk to Bucky. 

He looked good enough to eat with his tight button up, muscles practically ripping into the material of his shirt.

“You could just ask him.” Sam watched as you didn’t make a movement to break your gaze away from Steve. Especially, when Sharon slithered her way right next to him. 

“I could, but doesn’t mean I’m going to.” You finished the rest of your white wine before hopping off the bar stool. 

“Besides, it seems like he’s going home again with her and I’ll be going home alone.” You couldn’t help but notice how she flattened her palm against his chest, pushing you into the grave.  

“It’d be different if he actually knew how you felt.” Sam sighed. Genuinely he was growing tired of the ‘will they won’t they’. “You rejected him, he’s not going to go out baring his feelings if he does have them.” 

“Really? That’s what you’re playing at? We were in high school.” You honestly hadn’t thought about it in years and would be surprised if he had. “Yeah, it was seven years ago but he was in love with you.” 

You didn’t really like to think about it because it wasn't a version of yourself you liked to acknowledge. As much as you love Steve now, it was in a completely different way back then. 

Now? It seems like the universe really, really fucking hates you. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You questioned him, while eyeing the exit. Upset you even poked the bear in the first place. “It means he wanted nothing more than to be with you and he got rejected. Shit stings no matter who it’s coming from.” 

“Especially since the two of you were inseparable.” You kind of got what he was saying, but really hadn’t given it too much thought. “He had girlfriends after me. He even dated Peggy for two years.” 

“Have you ever thought about why he wouldn’t commit?” Sam drilled you, trying to help you connect the very two simple dots. “Lots of people in their twenties don’t want to settle down. It’s normal.” You reasoned with him, almost like you already knew the answer. 

“Yeah, but you know why he broke up with her.” With furrowed eyebrows you looked up quizzically at him. 

“Weren’t you leaving, princess?” Sam’s endearing tone could have fooled anyone, but you knew what he was playing at. 

And you didn’t like it one bit. 

A simple, exasperated grunt directed towards Sam and you were just about stomping out of the runned down pub you couldn’t stop from requesting at. 

What you didn’t notice was Steve watching your body funnel out the exit, detangling himself from Sharon making his way to you. 

He didn’t reach you until you were sitting down on the wooden bench across the street. It wasn’t like you intended to stay here, especially downtown but seeing Steve be so close to her just didn’t seem better than this. 

Perhaps, you were being a bit of a child. Steve loved you seven years ago, you couldn’t be mad because he moved on. No matter what Sam was insinuating you knew better. 

It just really sucked your feelings only started to develop now you’d gone through a laundry list of boyfriends to realize none of them could give you what you needed. He was fundamentally better in every prospect. 

“Hey, stranger.” There he was. Your knight in the darkness coming to your protection. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you beam that he’d left Sharon alone to be here with you. 

“Hi, Stevie.” He was smiling wide and part of you questioned if he was just saying goodbye, too. “You alright? Sam and you seemed to be getting into it, a bit.” 

Was he watching you? 

“Yeah, it’s fine. Sam was just helping me with some guy trouble.” You exhaled, not wanting to get into. Obviously. 

“He just wasn’t much help so I stormed off kinda pissed off. You know? The usual.” You were about to steer the conversation in another direction, but Steve didn’t want to leave it alone. 

He just became more insistent. 

“Maybe I can help. What’s going on?” Making his effort valid, he sat down right next to you with his thigh pressing against your own. 

“C’mon, Stevie. I don’t want to bore you. Let’s just go for a walk.” You watched him think for a second, with his eyebrows raised and eyes to the sky. 

“Fine. We’ll go for a walk, but we’re definitely still talking about this.” He left it alone for a bit. Until you wandered to the city park, side by side on the swings, when he brought it up again. 

“Okay. Out with it, Bambi.” You looked at him defensively. “You did not just call me ‘Bambi’.” You made sure to gesture air quotes to the nickname you despised. 

“It’s endearing coming from me. I promise.” You wanted to push him further, but you decided not to. “Now, lay it on me. Who fucked you over this time? Was it Owen? I never liked him anyway.” 

“No, um, I broke up with him like three months ago. Where have you been?” You swung so your side bumped into his, but all Steve did was giggle.

“Too far away from you.” You tried to look anywhere but his cerulean pools. Surely, you would drown. 

Especially if you analyzed his words, you might think he was coming on to you and he wasn’t. This was Steve. 

“So, what’s the issue then? I thought you really into Owen. Sam said the two of you were thinking about moving in together.” He was questioning with intent, but you couldn’t sense where he was headed. 

“We were at the time, but I couldn’t go through with it. I had this self-realization, I guess.” He hopped out of the swing, until he was standing in front of you. Looking down at you, with a glimmer of light in his eyes. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right? I hope you’d feel safe enough to know I’d never judge you for anything.” And you did know it, but it was hard to think with his body so close against yours. 

“I know. It’s just hard for me to talk about.” You breathed out, trying to muster up some courage. Even if it was indirectly, you had a feeling he would pick up on it. 

It wasn’t like you were going to great lengths to try and hide it. 

“Well, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’m one hell of a listener.” Steve grabbed you by the hand, intertwining it with his own as he tugged you off the swing and walking by his side. 

Smoothly, he brought his left arm around your waist, tugging you into his side. 

“It’s just, there’s a guy.” 

“Hun, I figured that much.” Ironically, enough you were afraid of the rejection you had served him on a silver platter. 

“I’ve never really been good at this stuff, you know. The big R. It always seems to tip south no matter what I do. Then I met Owen, and I just kept thinking this is the guy. He’s got to be it. He was sweet, kind, and committed, but something was just missing.” 

God, you couldn’t back away from this now. The way Steve was gazing down at you nearly made you want to. 

“Okay. Then what changed your mind?” Steve challenged you, daring you to finish. 

“I had a long conversation with Sam, funnily enough. He asked me who I saw myself with five years from now and it wasn’t with Owen.” You deeply sighed, hating yourself for rejecting someone else who had been so good to you. 

“Who did you see yourself with?” Steve stopped walking as you continued on, but he’s the one who didn’t miss a beat.  

“What?” Oh shit. Had I said that outloud? 

“You said it wasn’t Owen. Who was it then?” You felt your body run cold as you stopped with a determined Steve making his over to you. 

“Oh, you know. Sam, Bucky, Nat, and You. You guys are my family.” You tried to play it off, but you weren’t too sure if he was buying it. 

“Bambi, stop playing games.” 

Fuck. You were screwed. 

“I’m not. Some of us just don’t wear our heart on our sleeve.” 

Ouch. 

You knew it would sting and maybe that’s why you said it. Self sabotaging your chance with him would hurt much less than a rejection. 

“Then just tell me who it was you saw yourself next to. If you don’t wear your heart out it shouldn’t matter.” He grunted out, his patience wearing thin. 

“It doesn’t matter, Stevie. Leave it alone.” You pulled away from him, dashing into the other direction. Maybe you just didn’t have the guts to lay it all out there like he did. 

“I love you.” You whipped around, the same puppy dog look he’s given you seven years ago etched on his face. The same one begging for reciprocation many heartbreaks later. 

“You don’t.” Even if he did, you were sure you weren’t deserving of it. 

“I’ve been in love with you since I was eighteen and I know it’s a lot to ask but just don’t break my heart twice, Bambi. If it wasn’t me you were talking about, we’re pretending this never happened.” Before your brain could catch up with your heart, you threw yourself into his arms. 

“Never. Just love me again.” That he did.

[heytherejulietx]

white collar and leather

part one of five

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↳ content warnings - swearing, mention of drugs, mention of weapons

↳ 2.2k word count

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the rumble of the motorcycle underneath her was normal. the cool leather of her jacket against her skin was normal. the pressure of the helmet against her ears was normal. what wasn’t normal, was parking her bike in front of riverdale high in the north side. as much as she somewhat cared about her education, she’d much rather go to school literally anywhere else.

fuck this.

betty unclipped the clasp from underneath her chin and took her helmet off, shaking her head a little to loosen up her hair as she hung the helmet over the handlebars. she straightened up her jacket before she swung her leg over the bike to stand up, sighing as she looked up at the school.

for the town with pep this was probably the peppiest place that riverdale had to offer. riddled with annoying cheerleaders and noisy jocks and everything that betty pretty much despised about high school. at least at south-side high, everyone was too worried about getting stoned to bother her. now she actually had to face people. gross.

“cooper!”

betty turned her head, and leaned back against her bike as she spotted sweet pea walking over towards her, toni and fangs following shortly behind him. they were probably just about the only people she could actually tolerate. on a good day, anyways. sweet pea tended to get annoying a lot. although she had stayed at his place for the past few nights, which she appreciated. anything to get away from her trailer.

“you guys better get your pep on.” betty commented as they walked over and fangs snorted.

“can’t believe we actually have to go here, it’s bullshit.” sweet pea rolled his eyes and dropped the cigarette he was smoking on the ground, stepping on it afterwards.

“bullshit we’ll only have to put up with until we graduate.” betty pointed out as she pushed herself up from her bike, glancing over at the school with a sigh.

riverdale high was a completely different experience from south-side high. as soon as they walked in betty could see that, even just in the air. it was clean, and didn’t smell like weed. at least they wouldn’t be second hand smoking all day. it looked like it had just been renovated, honestly. none of the lights flickered constantly. the floor looked like it had been polished five seconds ago. none of the lockers had dents in or had been spray painted. and all of the students looked so… pristine. honestly, they looked like they were all about to walk into the set of some dumb teen drama. it was a joke.

everyone was looking at them strangely as they walked through the school. betty could feel them burning holes into the side of her head as she walked past, and she had to roll her eyes. it was like they had never seen other people before. before they could even get to the end of the first corridor the intercom crackled to life, and a voice traveled through the building. “will all new transfer students please come to the main hall.”

great. an assembly just for them.

“ten dollars we spend the next half an hour being told the dangers of gang activity in school.” toni scoffed, and betty chuckled as she looped her arm through the pink haired girl’s.

“i bet so.” betty nodded, catching the blue eyes of a boy staring at her down the hallway before she carried on to the main hall. she didn’t know where it was, though sweet pea seemed to have an idea of where it was so she just followed him.

toni was right, of course. they were lectured on all sorts of things for thirty minutes; drug use, fighting, weapons, even the indoctrination of other students into the gang. they had to be joking by the end. and if they weren’t then sweet pea and fangs must’ve been laughing over nothing. betty just wanted nothing more than to start her lessons and let the day go by as quickly as possible. as much as the south-side was a shit hole, she much preferred it to the north. at least there she wouldn’t be judged on her shitty life, and she could live said shitty life in peace.

when the principal had finally let them go, under a final warning to “behave like proud students of this school” she took a beeline for the exit and left quickly, promising to catch up with her friends at lunch. during the assembly of mostly patronising nonsense, something had caught her attention; the blue and gold, which was the school’s newspaper. when it had first been introduced, betty had run the red and black for a while, though with the lack of funding and minimal interest that students had in it betty stopped after a few months. though the blue and gold seemed promising, and maybe it would help make her experience at riverdale high a little more bearable.

when betty had finally found it’s office after five minutes of looking (seriously, this school was huge) she pushed the door open and stepped inside, honestly a little disappointed that someone else was there. she had been looking forward to spending her time there alone. the boy sat in the office turned to look at her, and she briefly remembered meeting his gaze earlier when he was staring at her.

sheesh, he looked like he was full of enough pep alright. the boy was almost too pristine. he was probably the epitome of “small town boy“, with a shirt and round-neck sweater, polished shoes, and small riverdale high badge pinned to his bag which sat on the desk. the only thing that stuck out was a grey beanie that sat atop his head, though even that screamed soft. he was adorable.

“oh, hi,” he smiled, obviously surprised to see her there. “what can i- how can i help?”

“your dumb principle mentioned the blue and gold being open to new members,” the boy blinked at her, obviously taken aback. though whether it was about the name-calling to the principal or her willingness to join the newspaper that she was uncertain of. “i’m interested.”

“oh,” he seemed to come to after a moment, and a smile covered his once bewildered expression. “great. yes. we’d gladly have you,” he nodded and stood up from his seat.

shit, she’d underestimated how tall he was. at least he had one thing going. he must’ve been six foot tall at least, and when he stepped out towards her she had to tilt her head up to look at him. at least he wasn’t as tall as sweet pea.

he held his hand out and smiled again. “nice to meet you.”

betty stared at him for a moment before she gripped his hand in return and shook it for a moment. “right. likewise.”

when she had pulled her hand away the boy nodded, and he opened his mouth to say something, though the bell ringing for the next class got to it first and cut him off.

“oh, well i’ll see you soon to sort out what times you can be here?” the boy asked, and betty nodded as she headed to the door.

“hey white collar?” she called back to him as she swung the door open, and his blue eyes met hers again across the room. “what’s your name?”

“jughead,” he responded after a moment, and if he was embarrassed at her entertained smile at his answer he didn’t show it. “what’s yours?”

“betty cooper.” she told him, and before he could say anything else she stepped out of the office and shut the door behind her. that was enough social interaction for one day, even if she’d be working with jughead every day now.

-

“so, what, you’re going to be working with her? alone?” veronica gasped, as she leaned across the table towards jughead. “what if she, like, has a knife on her or something? oh my god, what if she had drugs-“

“veronica, i highly doubt she has drugs.” jughead shook his head as he took another bite of his apple. the way that people were reacting to the south-side high students was mostly irrational, and it was getting a little annoying. he’d had to listen to reggie ranting about how he thought that one of the new students was going to kill him for an hour in his english class.

“some of them do. aren’t they all drug dealers? they’re in a gang.” she pointed out with a huff.

“none of them would be dumb enough to actually bring their drugs into school, even for lowlifes like themselves.” cheryl piped in from beside veronica. jughead wasn’t particularly friends with the redhead, but he tolerated her for veronica’s sake as they were on the cheer team together.

jughead found himself looking past the girls as veronica carried on about drugs, and found betty sat across the room. she was sat with another girl with pink hair, and two guys - one of them taller than the other. all four of them were wearing those gang jackets, though he could see the snake symbol from the jacket on the taller guy’s neck.

jughead didn’t believe that betty was dangerous by any means, but he was a little worried. there were a lot of rumours surrounding the south-side serpents, and it was hard to distinguish gossip from actual facts. were they really drug dealers? did they actually carry weapons on them? did the big guy sat next to betty actually kill someone? okay, jughead was less inclined to believe that one as it had come from reggie, but still. he was unsure on the situation, but there was nothing any of them could do. they’d just have to stick it out.

the rest of the day passed relatively quickly. in history jughead had to listen to a few cheerleaders giggling and fangirling over the taller serpent who had sat in front of them, and then in biology he had to put up with another thousand questions from veronica, though as soon as the bell went he managed to escape and headed to his locker quickly. as he was packing up his things betty passed him in the hallway with the tall guy again, and he couldn’t help but wonder if they were dating.

jughead closed his locker as he shrugged his bag onto his shoulders before he made his way out of the building, and put his headphones in for the walk home. he took the long way back to his house, putting off what he knew was coming. his dad had been more annoyed by the south-side high students joining the school than anybody in his class, and he knew when he got home he’d have to hear it all over again. jughead had decided to not tell him about betty, at least not yet. he didn’t want to give his dad an aneurism or something.

his father’s car was in the driveway when he got home and jughead frowned as he unlocked the front door. he had been hoping that fp would be out of the house for whatever reason, so he could avoid the bombard of questions that was sure to come and just escape upstairs to his bedroom.

“jug? that you?” he heard from the kitchen, and jughead rolled his eyes as he shrugged his coat off. no, he wanted to say, it’s a stranger who somehow has a set of keys to the house.

though instead he called out “yeah.” and walked through to the kitchen, where he found his father sat at the table surrounded by paperwork and his laptop.

“those students all in school todsy, then?” fp asked, and jughead sighed as he took off his bag and went over to the fridge to get a drink.

“yeah, they’re all-“

“they didn’t give you any trouble, did they?”

jughead clenched his jaw and willed himself not to snap at his dad. of course they didn’t, they weren’t monsters, they were still people, no matter where they came from. he couldn’t understand why that thought was so hard for people to grasp.

“no, it was all fine.” he forced a smile as he turned to face his dad, and met his eyes in his reflection of the laptop screen.

“good, just don’t get too close to any of them. god knows what they all get up to.” fp scoffed, and jughead gripped the bottle in his hand tighter as he took a drink from it. they went through all of this yesterday. and the day before. and the day before that. and every day since it had been announced that the schools were merging.

“i’m going upstairs. i have homework.” jughead excused himself to get away from the conversation, and he watched as fp nodded before he grabbed his bag and headed for the stairs, escaping from the lecture that he was sure fp would finish at dinner anyways.

[heliads]

Counting On It

When you’re cornered by a group of hunters in the middle of the preserve, you’re more than a little surprised to be rescued by Theo Raeken, the one person who was the least likely to help you.

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Your feet pound away at the forest floor. As you sprint past tree after tree, your heart hammers in your ears. You can’t control your fear and so you quickly duck behind a nearby tree, peering hurriedly over your shoulder to see if your pursuers are still behind you.

They are.

Just beyond the line of trees marches a group of hunters. Their clothes are dark, their weapons drawn, and they will hunt you down until you go screaming to your death. This is what you are running from, but with every step you take, you know it does you no good. You still die here, alone, no matter how far you go.

You gather up your courage and start to move again. One of the hunters raises a crossbow and fires; the bolt pierces your ankle. You scream in pain and fall to the ground, yanking out the bolt to let the wound heal. Once you can stand, you run again. 

You pass thicket after thicket, grove after grove. Then you see it- an opening in the trees ahead. Have you made it out? You muster your energy for one last attempt and sprint the final few feet. Your legs are carrying you as fast as you can- and then you force yourself to a stop.

Before you is the edge of a cliff, your feet mere inches away from the precipice. You glance back behind you, and realize the hunters have cut off all other means of escape. So this is it- death at the hands of humans who despise you for being a werewolf.

Biting back blood, you extend your claws, growling at the hunters. You’re not going down without a fight. You breathe in and out shallowly, preparing yourself for the upcoming fight, then race at the hunters, claws outstretched.

The world quickly becomes a mess of claws and fists. The hunters came prepared, you’ll give them that, but they clearly aren’t used to the desperation of one lone wolf. You’re able to take down one before two more stand before you, guns cocked and ready to shoot. You stand there for a moment, staring deep into their eyes. This is where it all ends.

Strangely enough, it doesn’t. There’s a growl from behind the hunters, and suddenly one of them is on the ground, clutching a wound on his stomach. While the other one is distracted, you launch yourself at him, slashing his side and taking him out as well. When you’re sure the threat of the hunters is gone, you finally look back at your mysterious lifesaver.

“Who are you?” You manage one question of the dark-haired boy in front of you, taking in the golden eyes of a beta and claws that show he’s a werewolf as well. The boy smirks and nods at you. “Theo Raeken. Figured you needed a hand with the hunters, so I dropped by.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Theo Raeken. As in the one that was sent to Hell after you betrayed Scott and the others about a thousand times?”

Theo sighs. “I’d hoped for a better introduction, but yes. That Theo. Even if you might be familiar with me, I still don’t know you.” You answer his questioning gaze. “I’m Y/N. Y/N L/N. You don’t know me because I just moved here a month or so ago. I met Scott’s pack after they found out I was a werewolf too, and we’ve been allies ever since.”

Theo nods slowly. “If you’re close with Scott, what were you doing in the middle of the woods? I thought you’d know what happens to lone wolves.” You tilt your head to the side, considering him. “I could ask the same of you. I was stupid enough to think I could hide from the hunters long enough to explore the preserve, that’s on me. You’re a lone wolf too, you know. What’s keeping you here?”

Theo fixes you with a piercing gaze. “I happen to like being in the forest at night. Feels like one of the only places in Beacon Hills where I can be alone without anyone staring at me like I might snap and kill someone at any moment.” You can’t help but grin at that. “To be fair, you did snap and kill people a good few times, so their suspicions aren’t exactly unfounded.” Your smile broadens at the sight of his annoyed face. “I’m kidding. Come on, I’ve got to get back home.”

The two of you walk back out of the preserve and Theo’s about to take off before he realizes you don’t have a car. “Need a lift?” You nod gratefully, and he drives you back to your house. The two have parked in your driveway when you turn to him with a thoughtful expression. “Do you want to stay the night?” Theo looks at you, confused. “What?” You repeat yourself. “Do you want to stay the night? Look, I know I just met you but I can tell when someone shouldn’t go be alone. I’m not asking for anything, I just feel like I owe you after you basically saved my life tonight.”

Theo considers your offer for a moment, then nods. “Actually, that wouldn’t be too bad. Just one night, though. I think Scott and your friends would kill me if they found out I was staying with you.”

The next morning, you’re talking to Theo before he goes. “You know, if you ever need a place to stay you should feel free to come crash at my place. Werewolf-friendly establishments aren’t exactly common around here.” Theo smirks slightly. “You had better be careful, or I might actually take you up on that offer.” You smile back at him. “I’m counting on it.”

True to his word, Theo does drop in every now and then. Maybe once every few weeks or so, you hear him knocking on your front door. You’re not entirely sure what he’s doing when he’s gone, but you’re more than happy to see him. The two of you quickly develop a fast friendship, and you always look forward to his visits.

Now, however, you don’t have time to worry about whether or not Theo Raeken is dropping by. Beacon Hills has been swarmed with new hunters, with everyone in town suddenly fearful of supernaturals. You’ve heard a report that Liam’s trapped in some warehouse in a corner of the town after an investigation into the hunters went south. The warehouse is surrounded by hunters, and they’re going in after him.

You quickly make your way over to the building, sneaking in through some access door on the side where nobody can see you. All you have to do to find your friend is follow the sound of distant fighting.

You’re surprised to see that Liam isn’t alone- there’s another figure fighting the hunters on the far side of the warehouse. As the figure turns to claw another hunter, you realize who the mysterious figure is- it’s Theo! You dash over to him just in time to take down a hunter who was about to shoot him in the back.

Theo turns to see you and instantly breaks into a grin. “Look who it is!” You laugh and continue fighting next to him. “Hey, I said I’d have your back, right?” Theo nods. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else.” Beside you, Liam throws a disappointed glare Theo’s way. “Hey- I’ve known you for way longer than Y/N. I feel like you should trust me more.” He pauses for a second, then looks back at you. “Wait, Y/N- how do you know Theo? He left before you moved here.” You just wave a hand at him. “We’re friends. That’s all you get to know.”

Before you know it, the fight is over and the three of you have successfully made it out of the warehouse and back to Scott’s house. The entire pack is clustered around the kitchen table, listening as Scott lays out a plan for how to deal with the Argents.

You’re distracted when Theo walks up next to you, smoothly entwining his hand around yours when nobody else is paying attention. You hope the blush in your cheeks isn’t noticeable to anyone else there. 

After the meeting is over, Theo slips away from the group, heading towards the front door. You peer after him confusedly. “Where’s he going?” Stiles waves a hand dismissively. “Probably leaving town again, this time for good. Now that the town’s safe he’s got nothing keeping him here.” There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that you can’t explain, and you quickly walk away and head out of the house after him.

You catch Theo just before he gets into his car. “Are you really going to leave without saying goodbye?” Theo turns back to face you. “I’ve never been much good at goodbyes. I figured it would be easier this way.” Your normally cheerful smile falls into a slight frown. “Do you really have to go, Theo?” The boy glances away. “Look, no one really wants me here after what I did. It’s better that I go.”

“That’s not true.” Theo finally looks back at you. “What?” You force yourself to make eye contact with him. “I want you here, Theo. I don’t know what I’m going to do if you leave.” Theo breaks into a smile. “Are you sure?” You laugh quietly. “More sure than I’ve been in a long time. You’re important to me, and I don’t want you to go.” 

Theo steps closer to you, brushing a small piece of hair away from your forehead. “I’ll stay for you. I didn’t want to go, but I thought you didn’t trust me like the others.” You smile up at him. “Of course I trust you. I’m just warning you- if you stay, you’ll have to see a lot more of me” Theo presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’m counting on it.”

[rowanwhitethornisbae]

Faking It Chapter 1

Rowaelin Fake Dating High School Au

A/N: This is going to be told through Aelin and Rowan’s POV’s but will also feature other characters. 

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Aelin Galathynius had never been this pissed off in her entire life. 

“I need to focus on myself.” 

“You can be a lot to handle sometimes.” 

If Aelin hadn't been so shellshocked she most definitely would've slapped that grimace off his ruggedly handsome face. Chaol Westfall and her had been dating for as long as Aelin could remember. Grade six graduation, he was there. Grade eight dance marathon, him again. First day of high school, Chaol. Junior prom night, guess fucking who. 

Now, she was barely a week into senior year and everything was already going to shit. It’s not that she was completely torn up about the breakup - she wasn't - it was more about her pride. Aelin’s bitchy side could not believe that she hadn't been the one to dump him first. They’d barely spoken to each other all summer long. Aelin had been lifeguarding at a pool on the south side of town and Chaol had been a camp counsellor on the north. Still, their friend groups crossed over in every way possible. Aelin was the head cheerleader, leader of about every committee you could think of, and as Aedion liked to call her, “Queen of Terrasen High”. Chaol was, you guessed it, the football team captain and starting quarter back. They were the textbook couple in every way possible. Still, despite the cheerleaders and football players hanging out nearly every night, Chaol and Aelin had barely talked. It had been that way since their huge fight on the last day of junior year. They’d claimed to forgive each other, but never really had. They’d both said some really fucked up shit. Still, Aelin couldn't bring herself to be completely regretful of what she’d said to him. 

“This is a good thing A.” Her best friend Lysandra was saying beside her. “You’re way hotter than him anyway.” 

Snapping back to attention, Aelin smiled. “I am aren't I.” She laughed. 

“Hell yes.” Lysandra assured her. “He was never in your league.” 

Aelin laughed and threw her arm over her best friends shoulders. School was out for the day and they were heading out to meet Aedion for a drive home. Ignoring the faint anger in her gut, Aelin had to admit she felt more free. She hadn't been single since the sixth grade - save the small break her and Chaol had taken in 10th year. Aelin didn't like to ponder too much on that time in her life. 

A blast of warm air hit her as they pushed open the heavy doors to the school. Aedion’s face broke into a wide grin as he spotted them. As soon as her and Lysandra reached him he pulled her into a bear hug. “Welcome to the world of miserable and lonely single people. You’re gonna love it.” He messed with her hair and she groaned for him to put her down. 

“How the hell do you know already?” She asked.

“Oh my sweet naive cousin. Everyone knows.” He smiled sympathetically. 

“Everyone?” Aelin said, a hint of desperation in her tone.

“Everyone.” Aedion echoed. “It’s the biggest news to hit the school since, well, you and Chaol took break.”

Aelin swore under her breath. “Can’t people focus on their own lives for once.” 

Lysandra laughed softly. “We need to find you a rebound.” She said, bouncing on her toes. “I finally get the chance to be my best friends wingman.” 

“I don't want a rebound.” Aelin said frowning. 

“Would you rather Chaol find one first. He broke up with you, you’re already losing.” 

Damn Lysandra. She knew that Aelin was probably the most competitive person alive and could literally never shy away from a fight. 

“Fine. Who?” She swung open the door to Aedion’s car and climbed in the back.

Lysandra clapped her hands together and joined her in the back. “How about Fenrys Moonbeam?” 

Aelin shook her head back and forth. “No way.”

“Why?” Aedion asked. “He’s unfairly attractive.” 

“You date him then.” Aelin shot back. 

“Maybe I will.” He smiled wickedly at her in the rearview mirror and pulled out of the parking lot. 

“How about Sam Cortland.” Lys suggested. 

For a moment Aelin considered it. Despite being a year younger than her, Sam was extremely cute. His messy brown hair and constant smile didn't hurt matters. 

“Too nice.” Aelin insisted. “I’ll feel too bad about using him.” 

Lysandra had just begun naming someone else when their car slammed into something else. Aelin’s body lurched forward uncontrollably, head slamming into the seat in front of her. 

“Fuck!” Aedion swore. “Fucking hell!”

Aelin didn't even have time to revel in the fact that Aedion had actually cursed. Instead, she surveyed her body to make sure she was alright. Lysandra appeared to be doing the same and they both exchanged weak smiles of comfort. All three of them slowly got out of the car to see who exactly they had run into. 

Aelin was stilling rubbing at her temples when a voice sent a chill down her spine. 

“Are you fucking kidding me Ashryver?” He said. 

Heart racing, Aelin lifted her head slowly and met the anger filled green eyes of Rowan Whitethorn. He looked absolutely flawless in his leather jacket and white tee. His too tight jeans were ripped around the knees and cuffed just above his black combat boots. Rowan’s silver hair was messy and unkept and his tattoo was just as beautiful as ever. The vibrant green of his eyes never failed to take her off guard. Eyes that were now staring directly at her. 

He blinked twice, the only reaction he would show, and went back to yelling at her cousin. 

“I’m sorry man.” Aedion was saying in the background. “I didn't see you.” 

“It’s not his fault.” Lysandra jumped in. “We were all distracted.” 

“Let me guess.” He snarled back, tone as pissed off as ever. “Discussing the recent breakup.” Rowan was looking at Aelin now, waiting for a response. 

“Something like that.” She mumbled, not looking directly at him. 

“Didn't hear that princess.” He said loudly.

“Fuck off Rowan.” Aedion yelled, subtly stepping between them. “It was accident, send me the bill for your bumper. We’re going now.” 

“Whatever.” Rowan didn’t look at her once. He only got back in his dented black car, flipped Aedion off, and hit the gas. 

“Come on A.” Lysandra said softly, wrapping an arm around Aelin’s trembling form. She pulled her gently back toward their car. Aelin could feel Aedion’s gaze on her, yet for some reason she couldn't bring herself to care. 

After a few more minutes of silent and awkward driving, Aelin couldn't bear it anymore. 

“I’m fine guys.” She said with as much confidence as she could muster. “Please stop looking at me like I'm a time bomb.” 

Lysandra laughed and smiled. “Whatever you say A.” Aelin had never been this grateful for her best friend. 

“How about Rowan.” Lysandra continued. Every thought left Aelin’s head and she jolted upwards in her seat. 

“Are you insane? Are you literally fucking mental. I would get burned alive then have a conversation with him.” Aelin was practically yelling now. 

Lysandra only shrugged. “What’s the one thing that hurts more than sleeping with the best friend?” She asked Aedion. 

“Sleeping with the guy you told him not to worry about.” Her cousin recited, smirking in the rearview mirror. 

“Absolutely not. No way in hell.” She paused. “Besides, he wouldn't even give me the time of day.”

Lys squealed. “So you’re considering it.”

“No.” Aelin murmured, ignoring her friend’s pointed glares. 

“Alright.” Lysandra finally relented. “Just think on it.” 

“Fine.” Aelin nodded, and went back to staring at nothing through the car window. 

                                                     ~~~~~~~~

“Lorcan!” Rowan yelled out. “Where are you guys?” 

“Out back.” Came the booming yell of Lorcan Salvaterre. 

Sighing, Rowan put his coat back on and walked through the house to the back door. Only, Fenrys greeted him, patting him on the back and moving over on the couch. “How was your day?” His friend asked. 

“Horrible.” Rowan admitted. 

Fenrys stuck out his bottom lip. “How come?” 

“I talked to Aelin Galathynius.” 

The rest of the group instantly stopped whatever conversations they’d been having and whirled towards him. Fenrys’ eyes were blown wide open as he struggled to find the words. 

“Explain.” Lorcan said at last, falling back in his chair. Vaughn and Gavriel were staring at him cautiously, as if he might have another breakdown.  “Her cousin hit my car.” He grumbled. 

“The first time you speak to Aelin in nearly two years is because you crashed into her car” Vaughn reiterates. 

Rowan only nods. Fenrys, bless him, somehow restrains from laughing. 

“So do tell.” Gavriel gestures for Rowan to go into more detail. 

“I made some comment about the breakup, she refused to look at me, I basically mocked and condescended her, and then Aedion told me to fuck off and I left.” He reached down into the cooler for a drink. 

“Um wow.” Lorcan sighed. “Nice going asshole.” 

Rowan just held his beer out in salute and took a long drink. He was more than ready to forget about the whole day and move on. Unfortunately, his friends seemed less inclined for his plan. 

“The news of their breakup is all over the school.” Fenrys told them. He had always been their number one source of gossip, considering the rest of them despised most social interaction. “Guys are already placing bets on who can sleep with her first. Cairn bet Nox 1000$ he can nail her by Dorian’s party this Friday.” 

Rowan tried and failed to ignore the tightening in his chest. 

“Will she even go to that?” Gavriel posed. “Dorian is Chaol’s best friend anyway.”

“She’ll be there.” Rowan blurted before he could take it back.

All eyes again flipped to him. “Why don’t you make a move Rowan?” Lorcan asked, a smirk etched onto his lips. 

“Fuck off Salvaterre. I hate the bitch.” Rowan snarled. 

“You didn't seem to hate her so much when - “ Fenrys began. 

Rowan was already up and moving before he could hear the end of the sentence. He ignored their calls of apology and to come back, instead getting into his car and pulling out. At last, he pulled into the parking space in front of his aunt’s house and leaned his head against the car window. 

It had barely been a week and his senior year was already shaping up to be a fucking mess. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[spookybias]

pairing: park sunghoon x gender neutral! reader

genre: slice of life ─ fluff

synopsis: coming up with halloween costumes is harder than you and sunghoon thought.

warning: a very brief description of dolls hanging by their throats.

word count: 1.5k

note: for @enhypenwriters 7 days of fright. i don’t think there’s trick or treating in south korea, but this is just for kicks. also, i kind of cringed while writing this LMAO.

THE SHOP SMELLED LIKE PUMPKIN SPICE AND COLD LEAVES, CANDY CORN AND BLACK CATS IN GARDENS; both the scents of four days till Halloween. Fake skeletons climbed the store walls, and creepy dolls -blood stains and scratches spotted on their porcelain bodies- hung from the ceiling by the string wrapped around their necks. Much cuter and playful knick-knacks littered the display tables throughout the store.

“Do you two already know what kind of costume you’re looking for?” Sunoo asked. It had been his idea to visit the shop on a hunt for last minute costumes, for a last minute planned trick or treat outing.

“Something unique. I don’t want us to be dressed like any of you guys or have a common option,” You responded.

“Something simple,” Sunghoon stated. He had been particularly cranky about last minute shopping, as he was one who preferred to get things out of the way before a big event. Sunghoon would do anything for you, though, and that included suffering through something he despised the most.

“Ni-Ki, let’s go as scarecrows,” Jungwon suggested. He tossed a straw hat Ni-Ki’s way.

Sunoo snatched the hat before Ni-Ki could grab hold of it. “No, Ni-Ki is going as a vampire with me.”

“You always hog Ni-Ki,” Jungwon complained.

“That’s because I’m a good hyung who helps him flat iron his hair” Sunoo replied, rolling his eyes. “What do you have to offer?”

“Just pick something all three of you can go as together.” You grabbed Sunghoon’s wrist and dragged him passed a display table with smiling jack-o-lanterns and fake tombstones, and into an aisle of capes and robes.

The lanky boy leaned against a clothing wrack of animal printed tops, trying his best not to sigh in irritation. “Any specific idea on what you want to dress as? I’m down for whatever you want.”

“So if I said let’s dress up as fairytale princesses, you’d be okay with that?” You joked.

Sunghoon chuckled. He thought to himself. If you oh so desperately wanted to go as princesses, he might just do it. Your happiness was his top priority, which proved just how whipped Sunghoon was for you. But you didn’t need to know that. “Okay, maybe I wouldn’t dress up as just anything you choose.”

“That’s better.” You gave him a mischievous smile, rubbing your hands together as if you had just come up with a devious plan. “I can’t be trusted with that much power.” You headed off further into the aisle.

Sunghoon gazed from behind. He loved your playful attitude. It never failed at making his heart flutter, and there was never a dull moment. Although he found last minute shopping to be quite frustrating, he knew that with your pure heart and gold soul, he would at least be entertained.

And maybe a bit flustered.

Your sudden interest in the trick or treat outing did leave him puzzled, though. When he asked you if you had plans, you had simply stated that you didn’t, and wanted to have a movie night with him.

You sauntered through the shop, bags of chocolate candies and witch hats being the most apparent items, before a red cloak caught your eye.

“Sunghoon, do you wanna-” You turned around to find that your boyfriend was no longer behind you. “Sunghoon, where are you?” You had been so absorbed in the store’s decorative contents that you had lost your boyfriend in the sea of costumes and collectibles.

“Can’t we just go as ghosts?” Sunghoon groaned, appearing in front of you with a white sheet over his tall body. He had hoped to pop out and scare you, but he didn’t seem to have the energy to put it in the effort. The boy flailed his arms under the blanket in what was supposed to mimic a ghost’s eerie floating. “Boo. Spooky." Sunghoon reached out to you.

You snorted, looking him up and down. "This is the lamest costume I've ever seen. We should put a little more effort, don't ya think?" With an playful smile and an eye roll, you continued through the aisle.

“It’s not like we’re going to a costume contest, doll,” Sunghoon said as he pulled the blanket off and rolled it up in a ball. He tossed it over his shoulder unaware of the maknae that had been tailing him since the two of you parted ways.

Sunoo scoffed. “Hyung!”

“I know it’s just a little Halloween party, but I want this year’s Halloween to be really, really fun.” You sighed in annoyance. You weren’t feeling irritated by Sunghoon, but instead by the idea that you might have been getting too far ahead of yourself.

This was the first Halloween you would be spending as Sunghoon’s significant other, and it would be your first time hanging out with your boyfriend and his brothers as a whole group.

Earlier in the day while hanging out at the boys’ dorm, the maknaes had questioned what you and Sunghoon would be doing for Halloween, and when you had replied with, “Nothing, just watching some scary movies” they invited you to come along with them trick or treating, announcing that staying in would be dull. You were instantly reminded that you were kind of lazy when it came to socializing. A small thought creeped out from the back of your mind. What if Sunghoon thought that movie night was a lame idea? You just wanted to prove to everyone that you were fun and free-spirited. You feared that Sunghoon’s friends would deem you as Sunghoon’s boring lover, or just as someone who never wanted to do anything.

Sunghoon grabbed your hand and gently pulled you back. “It will be fun. I promise the others and I aren’t as boring as you might think.”

“It’s not you guys who I’m worried about is boring.” You rolled your eyes again.

“Then who?” Sunghoon was inexperienced in relationships, so there was no doubt that he wouldn’t get what was bothering you unless you told him yourself.

“I don’t want the other guys to think that I’m boring.” You felt your face get hot. The two of you were still new at being a couple, and so telling Sunghoon this made you feel embarrassed.

“Ah, you’re not.” Sunghoon turned you so that you could face each other. “Why would you think that?”

“I guess ‘cause my idea of fun is staying indoors all the time.” You lowered your head. Your boyfriend was quite close, and your face just kept getting warmer.

“You’re not boring, ____.” Sunoo stepped in. “Sunghoon-hyung is the boring one. Look at his shoes.”

Sunghoon awkwardly coughed. “Sunoo, can you at least pretend to be doing something other than tuning into our private conversation?”

Sunoo rolled his eyes dramatically and sauntered off.

Sunghoon cupped your face. “Look, we’re both still new at this relationship thing, so I actually don’t mind when you choose to hang out at the dorm or at your house. We should take things slowly and move out of our comfort zone at a steady pace. We don’t have to go trick or treating with those clowns if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to.” You nodded your head, determined. I do prefer to stay home and watch scary movies with just us. But like you said, we’re both still new at this relationship thing. I think this is the push that we need.” Your mood eased up, and you smiled brightly at your boyfriend. “Plus, I think it’s too late to back out now since we’re already in a shop filled with Halloween stuff, and that ghost costume is calling my name.”

Sunghoon looked at you with a faint blush on his cheeks, while you looked around in amusement. He turned you to face him once again, and leaned down, pecking your lips. It was only a second long, but the notion didn’t go unnoticed.

“Why are you guys kissing in the store?” Ni-Ki’s eyebrows furrowed at having witnessed the short kiss shared between you and his hyung.

“You’re too young to understand.” You stuck your tongue out at the youngster and ruffled his blonde hair.

“So I guess we’re all going as ghosts then.” Ni-Ki looked around.

“I thought you were matching with Jungwon and Sunoo?”

“Well-” Ni-Ki said began to say, turning to face the other end of the aisle where two familiar voices could be heard.

At that moment, Sunoo came around the corner of the aisle, Jungwon in tow.

“Jungwon, you are insufferable!”

“I’m not putting a unicorn horn on my forehead!”

Sunoo instantly turned around to the other maknae and snapped, “It’s called an alicorn.”

“Doesn’t matter what it’s called, I’m not wearing it!”

“Well I’m not wearing a straw hat. Scarecrows aren’t cute or attractive.”

“So, we’re all going as ghosts then?” You turned around to see Sunghoon once again covered by the white sheet, arms raised to mimic a ghost’s spooky stance.

“I guess there wasn’t any point coming here,” Ni-Ki spoke up. “We already have white sheets at home.”

[slitherofgold]

I loathe you Pt 1- Sam Fender Imagine

Standing before the mirror, you were impressed with the reflection. You had made an effort with your appearance (for once) and the result wasn’t too bad. You were looking forward to tonight, finally getting the chance to catch up with the boys who had been on tour for months. You had missed them, in fact your home town didn’t feel the same without them. The plan was drinks at your local pub- the Low Lights Tavern- just so you could catch up and see how everyone was doing. Well, not everyone. Thankfully, Drew had convinced Sam not to come for your sake. It wasn’t as if you hated the guy, but he always seemed to kill the mood with his sulky attitude and blunt remarks. It was almost as if he despised you and just couldn’t stand your company, so you kindly asked Drew not to invite Sam. 

You hopped in the taxi and headed towards the tavern, getting more eager by the second to see your friends. The pub was your guys spot, whenever someone needed to celebrate, whenever someone was sad, whenever someone needed to let off a little steam, you’d always meet at this spot. 

You walked in and instantly looked towards your usual booth.You would’ve been happy to be reminded of your friends faces, but unfortunately to your dismay, Mr Sam Fender was sat with them, blatant of your arrival. You were tempted to walk back out, to come up with some petty excuse for you to leave, but it was too late, the gang had noticed you. “Y/n!”, Dean waved you over, obviously happy to see you. You quickly plastered on a smile and strutted in their direction. You were not going to let Sam ruin tonight.

“Hey guys, long time no see.” Dean squeezed up, allowing room for you to sit. Within an instant it was like they had never left. They told you stories from on tour (like Sam threatening to break into a Greggs after a particularly messy night out) and they had asked about what you had been up to too. 

“So y/n you seeing anyone”, Drew asked, whilst side-glancing towards Sam. Great, you were going to be reminded YET AGAIN that you were still single, and you were certain that Sam basked in your sad, single loneliness. 

“Yep obviously. I think I just defer guys with my presence.”

“Obviously”, Sam muttered under his breath. You pretended to ignore him but you couldn’t help but notice the sharp glance Drew gave him from across the table. He quickly attempted to assure you. “Nah that’s not true, I knew a bunch of guys who had a crush on you at school.”

“Yeah, like who?” You raised your brow out of curiosity.

“Sorry that’s classified information. I promised I’d never tell.”

“Drew, school was nine years ago.” You folded your arms across the table, waiting for an answer. 

“Yeah but it was a pinky promise and you know how sacred they are.”

“Sure, now I’m gonna go get us some more drinks before you bore everyone with my non-existent love life.” You left the table and headed towards the bar, hoping they’d change the topic by the time you’d get back. It wasn’t as if your love life was non-existent it was just very much unsuccessful. For some reason you had a certain type for dickheads, the kind who loved to walk all over you and cheat whenever they felt like it. In a way you were grateful for your chain of ex-lovers, they had made you tougher to a certain extent, and boys knew it too. In fact, most of the time, the boys refused to meet whoever you were dating. It was almost as if they could see right through each and every bloke, and decided that any guy would never be good enough for you or their time. “6 pints please.”

“That’s a lot of pints for a small thing like you.” You hadn’t even looked at the bartender, but his voice seemed to pull you out of a trance. You quickly realised how good-looking he was. He was roughly in his late 20s, dirty blonde hair and kind brown eyes. He was charming in some sort of way and he had even kinder smile. Shit, you were still staring. He must think I’ve got something wrong with me. 

“I wish they were, but I’m pretty sure you’d have to roll me out of here if I even attempted to down all six.” He laughed and started pouring out glasses, locking eyes with you every so often. “So are you new? I haven’t seen you around here before.” God, you were cringing so bad. You knew you were a bit rusty but this ‘flirting’ was just a shit-show.

“Kinda, some of my relatives live down here but I don’t live too far either. I take it you’re local?”

“Sadly, yes. Hopefully I can get out soon if my job picks up.” You were hopeful, but it was the truth. Although you loved Shields, you didn’t wanna stay here forever. 

“It’s not too bad around here, where would you wanna go, when you do get out?”

“I’ve not thought that far ahead yet, maybe down South or maybe even somewhere else in Europe.”

“I’ll have to tag along if you don’t mind.” He folded his arms across the bar and leaned down to your eye level. God, talking to this guy was so easy, you could stare into those eyes for hours. You hadn’t even realised that he’d poured all six drinks! 

“Sure, I could use the company.” You played along, silently hoping he’d take you up on the offer. 

“Isn’t your boyfriend good company then?” 

“My boyfriend?!” You gave him an unsure glance, you were certain that you were single. 

“Yeah, the guy giving me the evils.” You turned to look. “Don’t look!” He lightly grabbed your arm stopping you from turning. “God, don’t make it too obvious”, he laughed. “The guy in the white-shirt sat with you and your friends, blondish hair?”

“Ohhhhh, that’s Sam”, you laughed. “We’re not together.” 

“He’s been giving me the evils ever since you strutted on over, I took a guess thought you and him were a thing or something.”

You snorted, “Sam basically hates me, he treats me like shit or ignores me half the time.”

“Trust me, coming from a guy, he’s definitely feeling something other than hate for you.” 

“And trust me, knowing Sam for nearly 10 years, basically makes him my brother.” You couldn’t put anymore emphasis on that, you and Sam were not a thing. Period. 

“Well if you’re adamant that there’s nothing going on between you, I’d love to take your number?” You blushed but willingly took the guys phone and dialled in your number. 

“Y/n by the way.”

“Archie, lovely to meet you y/n.” He smiled and you and you smiled back effortlessly. God, his smile really was something. 

“You too, now I’d better get back to my friends before they start screaming for their beer.” You walked on ever to the group, careful not to spill the drinks. 

“Oi oi, look at you gettin’ ya flirt on”, Dean whistled. You blushed again, knowing full well that Archie could hear. 

“See told ya guys fancied you, you just can’t see it half the time.” You instantly thought back to Sam and glanced in his direction. Sure enough, he was sulking as usual. 

“I’m going for a ciggy”, Sam announced, and with that he stood up and stalked on outside- ruining the mood once more. 

“Think I might join him”, Drew said and quickly left after him. You shrugged and sat down next to Dean once more. Dean started talking about the good old days, laughing about the stupid things you guys did when you were young. 

“Remember that one time you hit by the swing playing chicken, and Sam felt so bad he pedalled home to go get you a plaster.”

“Omg and by the time he got back, I had stopped crying and we had started a new round.” 

“He was so mad, I remember he wanted you to sit out to rest your “injured” knee. It was literally the smallest cut ever!” You both laughed at the memory. You remembered that you had argued with Sam that day, you refused to sit and watch whilst the boys had all the fun. “I miss those days man”, Dean continued, “when we didn’t have to worry about anything other than going to the park after school.”

“Yeah but you enjoy tour life right? You’re travelling, meeting new people. I’m sure you got girls throwing themselves at your feet as well.” 

“That’s one bonus, I get homesick though. Actually, Sam was saying how you should come with us when we go on tour next.”

“He did?!” The news took you by surprise. He wanted to spend time with you. 

“Yeah, he said you could be our own personal groupie”, Dean chuckled. You? A groupie for Sam? You loved there music, there was no doubt about it but you weren’t sure how you felt about him as a person. You’d known him for a while but you didn’t really KNOW him that well. He was a difficult person. 

“Yeah sounds good. I missed you guys whilst you were away.”

“We all missed you too, especially Sam. It was kind of annoying actually, he complained about you not being there with us A LOT”. God, Sam just seem to escape the conversation tonight. Everything just sounded so unlike him. It never acted like this around you, and he certainly hadn’t said anything nice about you to your face. It was definitely a shock. 

“Speaking of the buggers, I’m going to see what’s taking them so long.” You needed some air anyway, it was so stuffy inside. As you reached the door you heard a quiet a conversation. You wouldn’t usually snoop but you recognised the voices. It sounded like a very important conversation. Their voices were tense yet quiet, ensuring that no one would be able to hear. No one but you obviously. 

“Drew leave it. Nothings ever going to happen between us. We wouldn’t work. We’re two VERY different people who have VERY different lives.” Sam. You wondered who he was on about, was he seeing someone? Why did you care?

“Mate you’ve had a crush on her since we were 12. I know you still like her, and you can’t deny it.”

“Yeah and so what. We date. It goes wrong. It fucks up our whole gang. Things become awkward. The end. That’s what will happen. End of.”

“Well, you’ll never know until you try. All I’m saying is that you better man up quick, otherwise someones gonna beat you to it.”

 Wait, known since 12, fuck up whole gang, that only narrows it down to one person. Me, Sam likes me, you thought, and with that, you heard the boys stomping out their fags ready to re-enter the tavern and face you once more.

[fallout4holmes]

Nuka-World 12

"I'm not happy about this," Preston frowned.

MacCready had justified his claim to be the best shot caps can buy. Deacon had taken the dead Operator's clothes, hid the body, and was now out of sight within the bottling plant. Preston and I were headed back into the theater.

"Deacon's one of the best spies you could hope for, he'll be fine," I said, half to convince myself. I'd drilled Deacon on everything I knew about the Operators, but that wasn't much.

"I hope you're right," Preston said. "The last thing this mission needs are surprises—"

"Colonel!" A panicked Minuteman came running from outside, "The rides are moving!"

"They're what??" Preston demanded as we hurried back out into the park.

Sure enough, the ferris wheel was slowly turning, the teacup ride was spinning, everything that could move was moving as if it had never stopped, though I imagine a bit creakier than two hundred years ago. Honestly, I was a little impressed that nothing went spinning off into oblivion.

"Guess Chip got his wish," I chuckled.

"Who?" Preston asked.

"Local handyman, mentioned to Holmes how much he'd like to see the park powered up properly again. Guess Holmes made it happen. Sure as hell wasn't the raiders."

"But why now?"

I shrugged, "Your guess is as good as mine. I think I've been away from Nuka-Town long enough, I should check in with Holmes."

"Of course," Preston nodded. "Oh, before you go, how far from the Pack's camp in Nuka-Town is the arena?"

"Amphitheater's right across from the Cola-Cars, but there's a marketplace in the way. Why?"

"I figure we'll come in through the entrance by Fizztop Mountain, head south to the Parlor, then hit the Amphitheater. By then everyone in the Cola-Cars arena will hear the fighting, hopefully we'll draw them out. The tricky part will be keeping the fighting out of the marketplace."

"And why are the raiders going to be in the arena?" I drawled. "That's the end of their sadistic Gauntlet, Holmes isn't…" I stopped, and Preston kept his face neutral. "That's the big distraction?" I demanded. "Holmes is gonna open the Gauntlet?"

"That's the plan," Preston said, terse.

"Something tells me you don't like the plan."

Preston crossed his arms, "Unfortunately, I didn't have a better one. The guy who delivered the General's message, Harvey, also gave us a description of the traps inside, but said that could change."

I nodded, "And probably will. We only made it through by moving slow and stealthy, disarming every trap we spotted, and even then there were too many close calls."

"That's why I don't like the plan," Preston huffed. "Everything hinges on one person not dying inside of a death trap."

I shook my head, "Something doesn't add up. Why would Holmes send someone through that thing?"

"It's certain to pull a large number of raiders out of the town, into one isolated area." Preston sighed, "The plan makes sense, it'll be easier for the Minutemen to take control of the raider bases if half of them are off watching some blood sport. I just wish there was another way to keep everyone distracted."

"Hm. I hate it just as much as you do, but these raiders despise each other at the best of times. The only reason they're willing to work together at all is the promise of more power, violence, and caps. Getting them to all look in the same direction takes… well, a hell of a show."

"They'll definitely get that," Preston smirked, still a bit bitter.

"This invasion of Nuka-Town of yours going to happen before or after you take the rest of the parks?"

He sighed again, frustrated, "That's the other thing. When we got the General's message, I scrambled to gather as many Minutemen as I could, as fast as I could, but still kept it a small enough force that we could travel quickly without drawing too much attention. That means we can't afford to lose anyone before the big fight, but I can't just leave a bunch of raiders in the other parks ready to swoop in and flank us."

"That's a predicament."

He laughed, "No shit!"

I chuckled, "Sorry I can't be more helpful. Battle plans aren't exactly my forte."

"You've been a huge help, Nick," he said, earnest, "Your information is the only reason this insane mission might be pulled off successfully."

"Don't sell yourself short," I smiled. "There's no rescue without rescuers."

Preston scoffed, but he was smiling.

"There are always raiders on guard inside the marketplace," I thought out loud. "If none of the Minutemen go inside the market, the raiders might come out."

"Or they'll just shoot us from the doors."

"So you need a couple people on the inside, someone who can take the raiders out quick when they start shooting."

"Deacon?"

I shrugged, "Sure, maybe Cait could go with, pretend to be tourists looking to spend some caps. Unless you got some Minutemen with acting skills?"

He shook his head, "Not that I know of, but it's not like I know every soldier's personal interests."

"MacCready could certainly play the part—"

"I need him up on the tallest building we can find, taking out as many as he can."

"Fair enough. Well, whenever Deacon comes back from his infiltration, you can ask what he thinks of the idea. I'll be back tomorrow morning, unless Holmes sends me back here sooner."

I made my way out, taking a moment to marvel at how different the place looked with everything moving. Still eerie, no people around, but you could picture what it must have been like in its heyday. It was kinda nice, until I heard Hancock shouting for help from the tunnels.

"Radaway! Hey! I need some fucking Radaway down here!!"

For a moment I actually wondered why a ghoul would need Radaway before realizing what had happened. I ran over to the closest entrance in time to see Hancock exit, hauling Deacon over his shoulders. “Shit,” I swore and reached for him.

“I got him, took a buffout,” Hancock protested, moving fast, “just gotta get him to Curie.”

“Hang on a sec, I got something better than Radaway.” I took a bottle of X-111 out of my pocket, “This stuff’s stronger, Holmes helped a scientist in the Brotherhood cook it up, way back.”

Hancock carefully put Deacon down. The spy looked… well, like he was dying of radiation poisoning. “You just keep a bottle of this shit on you all the time?” Hancock asked as I gave Deacon the medicine.

“After seeing my partner drink from a radioactive stream once, I started carrying it with me everywhere.”

“Holmes did what?”

“It was in Far Harbor, he needed to infiltrate the Children of Atom.”

Deacon made a sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh, “Detective’s a special kind of crazy.”

“Don’t I know it,” I chuckled. “How’re you feeling?”

“Less like dying, so that’s good?”

“Hancock, hurry on over to Curie and grab some stimpaks, will ya’?” Hancock nodded and hurried on. I shook my head with a sigh, “Speaking of special kinds of crazy, I’m guessing you went for a swim?”

“No swimming,” Deacon groaned, “just… wading through a reactor pool and down the much longer than expected drainpipe. Opened the grate, we can get in now. So you’re welcome.”

I frowned. “Why do we need to get in?”

Curie arrived, gently scolded Deacon as she fussed over him, and assured him he’d be feeling better soon. Preston and Hancock were close behind, along with a crowd of curious Minutemen and allies.

“What happened?” Preston asked, genuinely concerned.

"All that nuclear waste in the tunnels is coming from a secret lab in the bottling plant where the soft drink inventors were making weapons for the military," Deacon said, sounding stronger by the second. "And they succeeded. The lab was inaccessible until the power came on. We now have a very limited amount of time to make sure no Operators figure out how to open the door and gain access to blue glowing grenades and mini-nukes."

“You got out through the drain pipe,” I filled in the blanks, “and now that’s how we’re going to get in and take the Operators by surprise.”

“That was the plan.”

“Nick,” Preston said, all soldierly this time, “I know you need to get back to Holmes sooner rather than later, but I need your help on this. I want to send through Strong, Mayor Hancock, the two Minutemen with me who are ghouls, and you. It’s a small force, but a capable one, and most importantly none of you will have to worry about the rads taking you down before you get to the fight.”

I nodded, "I get it. Let's get a move on."

[topsytervy]

Rafe with an Asexual Reader

Because it’s Ace Awareness Week (hello, by the way, I’m not dead), I decided to do a kind of canon Rafe (minus the murder) little thing with an Asexual reader.

Word Count: that’s a good question

Warnings: like one mention of cocaine, swearing, talks about sex, mentions an ex trying to out the ace reader (WHICH ISNT COOL! DONT EVER OUT SOMEONE! IT’S THEIR DECISION OF WHEN AND WHO TO COME OUT TO!), i think thats it

Everyone knows Rafe as the kook prince

has issues with his dad, has a coke addiction 

Has definitely had some adventures in the bedroom if you're picking up what I'm putting down (lets face it, there’s a good chance Rafe is kinky)

Has had his fair share of casual hookups

And let’s be honest, Rafe’s attractive

I mean, have you seen his eyes?

And while many girls saw him at a party and thought 'cant wait to get him out of those khakis'

You thought about how amazing his hugs probably were because, holy shit, his arms

No one even thought Rafe knew what asexuality was (and they were right)

It started when you accidentally bumped into him at a kegger at the boneyard, causing him to spill his beer

"Oh shit, Rafe! I'm so sorry! It's all over your shirt!"

 Rafe was pissed but when you apologized and genuinely looked upset about the damage you had done, he was a bit less pissed

After all, you were trying to fix your mistake and he was touched by that fact, considering your friend group despised him

You told him you had a Tide to go stick in your backpack that was over by Kie at the campfire and he followed you

You grabbed your backpack from Kie, not wanting JJ to start shit with the kook and you and Rafe walked away from the noise of the kegger.

Rafe noticed the pins on your backpack and was interested by them, taking in each one of them as you dug through your bag

You had some pins of cartoons like Courage the Cowardly Dog, Scooby Doo, PowerPuff Girls, The Simpsons, South Park, etc. But also some random ass pins JJ pocketed from stores that he thought you’d like

But there was one pin that stood out from the rest.

A pin that was black, grey, white and purple striped

"What's that one?" He asked, pointing at it.

"Oh...uh...its the asexual flag…"

You were out but you weren’t out, if you know what I mean

The only people you came out to were JJ, John B, Pope, Kie, your parents, your ex, and Sarah after she joined the group but that's a whole different story

Your ex threatened to tell everyone on the Island after you broke up with them but after a quite successful threat from John B, Pope, JJ, and Kiara that ended with Pope (or Kie if your ex is a girl) decking them, they kept it quiet

Rafe raised an eyebrow to the new term presented to him 

"If you don't mind me asking, could you explain what that means?"

"Uhh...its the flag for asexuality…"

"I get the flag part. Just the asexual part is what I need explained to me."

You explained it to him as best as you could, but in the end you just said “I don’t desire the sexual parts of a relationship”

Rafe leaned back, completely intrigued by the fact that you had no sexual attraction 

"So asexuals just...dont really do sex."

"I mean...there's a lot more to it. There’s an entire ace spectrum and it’s a lot to break down.”

"Okay. Break it down for me."

You guys talked about the ace spectrum for 2 and a half hours before noticing that the party was dying down

You two stood up, deciding that both of you needed to find your friends before they found you and thought that Rafe assaulted you or something

"I kind of like the idea of that." "Of what?" "Being with someone who just doesn't really care about the sex part of the relationship but the other aspects of it." 

When Rafe got home that night, he watched Anthony Padilla interview asexuals and googled it as if he had an essay due the next day

He knew he wasn't ace but he found it interesting to learn about, maybe it was the thought that someone could love and care about him and not just want him for sex

When Sarah got up at 2 am for a glass of water, she saw him still up and on his phone

"Texting a booty call?" "No." "Telling a girl that last night was fun and all but if anything, you want to keep it casual?" "No, Sarah."

She walked in to look at what he was doing, only to see that he was reading an asexual article

"Either you've discovered something about yourself, which I find kind of hard to believe no offense, or you met Y/N." "I did, in fact, meet Y/N." 

He slowly started making his way up the ladder from acquaintance to friend and eventually, months later, he asked you out on a little casual at home date

JJ practically launched himself off the couch the first time Rafe walked into the chateau behind you

You quickly managed to somehow stop the blonde from getting close enough to throw a punch at the older boy

"Why is he here?" JJ asked, practically shooting daggers at the boy with his eyes. "Its fine. We're just here for my charger and then we'll be on our way, J" JJs gaze went from Rafe to you. "I'm sorry. Run that back." You grabbed JJs hand and pulled him into the kitchen as Rafe stood awkwardly in the doorway. "I promise you, he has no bad intentions. He made that clear from the start.." "You don't know his motives, Y/N, and people lie. Especially people like Rafe." JJ glanced at Rafe from where he stood. "JJ please. He's different from what you think." You begged. JJ looked at you and you gave him a little pout and the classic puppy dog eyes. JJ rubbed his hands over his face before holding them up in surrender. "Fine. Fine. But if it goes south, you better text me-" "Pecan Pie. I know. Thank you, JJ." You said before grabbing your charger from the counter and scurrying off.

The date was literally just you two in his living room with you curled up into his side as you guys watched childhood movies together

"Okay, you're up. What's a movie you watched when you were younger?" "The Great Mouse Detective." "Alright."

You two ended up falling asleep at some point during the second Mulan and Sarah came home

She had to cover her mouth with her hand to stop her herself from squealing at the fact that her horny ass brother was getting into a relationship who just didn't have the horniness

She snapped a picture and sent it to John B, who showed the rest of the Pogues and JJ felt himself smile a bit cause you looked so peaceful and content

She also sent it to Rafe 

When he woke up to see that his sister sent him a text he was annoyed at first but opened it nonetheless

He smiled when he saw the picture and immediately saved it to his camera roll

Rafe, reluctantly, woke you up to take you back to the Chateau

As the two of you talked on the porch of John B’s house, discussing details of your next date, the pogues, minus Kie, watched out the window before John B slowly opened it so he could listen

“Really? You three on going to eavesdrop on a whole conversation that doesn’t involve you?” “Kie, don’t act like your surprised by this fact.”

The night ended with Rafe kissing you cheek before getting back into his truck and pulling out of the driveway

You watched him leave as you addressed your audience

“I know you three are at the window. Stop acting like you’re discreet about it. You guys would be the worst fucking spies ever because you opened a window that hasn’t been greased in eternity so it squeaks when you open it and a spy would know better than to do that.”

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Holy Milkshake (Walter Marshall x you) (with visuals)

MASTERLIST BLOG

Characters: Walter Marshall x You

Summary: For you, ‘taking the sinner to church’ would be possible. But, not for Walter. He knew everything about you, even with the way you think that he’d taken methods of setting up a tracking device to follow you; getting him infuriated to see you having a ‘little date’ with the stalker who has murdered his exes. 

Warnings: Blasphemy. A twisted stalker. Reader being sly, also naughty and not asking Marshall for help. Date rape drugs mentioned. Suggestive content in the end. Ahem. The use of the word brat. OC named Vergil. You can imagine whoever you want for Vergil. 

Words: 1,5k +

A/N: OOF! PAPA BEAR MARSHALL! This is my first oneshot/drabble for him! I’m sorry if this look rushed! I’ve written this for only an hour and a half. This was supposed to be a drabble, but..Surprise! Ahe! I was inspired by the GIF collection of Demivampirew, which resulted for a oneshot. Mwohahahaha.I don’t even know how it ended up with Marshall sounding like a zaddy in this one. Oof!

Taglist: @fangirl-inthe-us​ @rahdaleigh​ 

REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE IT A LIKE, IF YOU’VE LIKED THIS SHORT ONESHOT! THANK YOU! 

Disclaimer: PNG’s used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. Credits to Demivampirew for the GIF collection. 

MY WORKS ARE NOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

Banana fudge milkshake.

It surprisingly tasted too sugary with every sip as your friend chattered for about an hour already since the moment you agreed on the so-called date you despise of.

The drink piped through the pillows of your lips. Your mouth wrapped on the red and white striped straw that didn't help the slight quiver of your mouth; used as a pacifier to soothe those agitated nerves you had as you were sitting before the 'friend' you thought who had no malicious intentions.

Maybe, it was a bad idea to never inform your boyfriend who could maintain the rounds of psychotic men with handcuffs and rails as a way of dealing the whole rendezvous you've planned to make.

Everything was going smooth. Probably, only an ounce of squeezed up faith as you could see the light and where this was going. If only you could start and try to slide in the conversation he somehow didn't want you to interrupt on; talking about how he was so happy to have a date with you, all those bullshit of beating around the bushes then the real discussion will surely go north.

Until, you've seen that familiar sweater who slid on to the chair beside the criminal named Vergil; the whole 'take the sinner to church' was definitely traveling down south to jail because of his sudden appearance.

You've choked on your own milkshake and coughed out some that went straight to your throat at the image of your tired, roughly bearded, curly haired police officer; sitting his sinewy, wide back on the chair with a tight, disappointed frown.

Well, someone looks mad.

"You're one word away from being tackled to the ground," the man beside him jumped from his interruption, making the chair shriek from being shocked at seeing Marshall sat beside him, all brooding and serious.

It was an ear-piercing sound that caught some of the diner's attention. You've given them a tight lipped smile before they went on to their daily activities and conversations inside the restaurant as you looked rather safe especially that Marshall was already with you.

Your boyfriend continued to give you a glare, his perspective solely on what he was seeing in front of him. His precious little lady sitting in the same table with her perverted stalker. He definitely couldn't believe that you've taken it too far, trying to help this person to change when it needed stones and brutal punishments or long life realizations for a rotten man like Vergil.

Walter was undoubtedly disappointed and furious.

His bright Cerulean eyes were sharp, brutal and piercing as he continued to focus on you, "Your car has multiple bags of heroin and drugs that can tranquilize people if taken in enough dosage---fucking date rape drugs," though, the message was sent to Vergil who was beginning to shit bricks as soon as he'd seen the gun tucked in Marshall's pants.

Walter grabbed onto his hand cuffs, abruptly throwing them on the table as he continued to spit fire. Shoulders tense and his expressions livid, "It's either you put these on," he hissed after throwing the cuffs towards Vergil, his eyes fixated on you as it was silently telling you how displeased he was for your acts, "---or I'll do it myself. But, you'll regret it."

You've let out a sigh. Deep inside, you were relieved because he would save you from Vergil's annoying chatters but somehow irked to know he had you tracked or have given you a tracking device to soothe his protective and utmost crazy antics for trying to keep you safe; out of harms way.

"You were following me, Lovey. Where's the tracking device?"

Your boyfriend gave you a scornful, tight lipped smile. A sudden change of his features that got your heart racing on how attractive he still was for getting his pants in a twist from your shenanigans.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

A grin was sent to him, "My milkshake brings all the boys to my yard?" and you couldn't help but motion for both men who sat before you with Vergil obviously trying hard to think of an escape plan.

He'd faintly shook his head in sheer disappointment.

"Funny." Walter gave a sluggish, nonchalant response as he rolled off his shoulders, leaning his crossed arms on the table as his anger was boiling in a temperature that tells; you were in a much more danger than having lunch with your stalker, "This guy over here---" he gave a curt nod to his side, "---This perverted asshole has retrieved belongings from you---some definitely personal items and you think he'll read a bible or repent over the women he killed if you calmly tell him all about it?"

You fidgeted and chewed the straw in your mouth, watching Walter seethe and heavily sigh from your response, "People change."

"Not dumbfucks like him, sweetheart." he spat, jaw clenching to the extent of seeing the muscles in his neck strain.

Marshall briefly gave him a glimpse as he called out the elephant in the room, quickly regretting because of how he wanted him to rot in the jail for years or forever, "---Don't you, Vergil?"

Vergil began to shake his leg as he sat, nervous and utterly anxious for what was about to come. His face turned red in rage, breathing staggered as he gave you glare; feeling betrayed when he should've been scared for his life because you knew his secretive, twisted habits. Stalking his target, knowing their houses and where they lived, grabbing onto personal things that his target loved using or wearing; panties, bras and those sorts before finding ways to befriend you till he could manipulate and end up loving you up until the point that he could kill for you.

The toxic type of love that seemed to be out of hand in which he has murdered his exes due to jealousy and other unreasonable explanations.

"I knew it! I fucking knew you were plotting this whole fucking thing with your fucking bodyguard over here---"

Marshall gave him a grumpy retort, "Boyfriend is a much more better term,"

Vergil's forehead was popping out veins as he exclaimed, thoroughly in fury for what you've brought him in, "Your boyfriend's part of the police force!"

You languidly blinked back, sipping on the last bits of your milkshake. Did he really not know that he was part of the police force? you puckered your lips at the silent thought; droning as you went on in admiring how you've raised Walter's hackles.

"---He cares and just loves me too much. He followed me. Didn't text him, tho. But, I assure you. He's no twisted stalker like you, Vergil. You certainly need to rot in hell,"

Walter knew you were liking this whole safeguard thing. It was all an act from you because he could see the tiny flicker of mockery in those beautiful eyes; knowing that you've gotten under his skin from the sudden tea party you've worked on.

Though, a pity party for you.

Walter gave him a glance, nodding towards the door where two police officers stood and waited for the catch, "Now, you'll meet two men out on the threshold. In less than one minute, if you're still here planning on kowtowing to lessen the punishments then you're a dunce."

Your boyfriend eyed him sternly, motioning for the handcuffs that rested on the table; saying its hello to its new capture, "What will---what---"

Vergil stammered and shakily took the handcuffs in front of him, scoffing when he heard Marshall grumble with a knowing tone of his that poured a little bit of his accent.

"You're under arrest for fuck's sake. Not quite complicated to understand, isn't it?"

Once the stalker was out of sight, being harshly taken by your boyfriend's co-workers; you couldn't help but emit a shaky breath, palms sweating a lot more than it ever did when Vergil was around because this time you were enthusiastic of what was about to happen in between an enraged police officer and his deceitful little woman.

"Oh, Lovey."

You've heard another set of metal chiming against each other. Yet, this time; the handcuffs were thrown towards you. His face etching in complete seriousness and disappointment. Though, inside those ocean eyes, you knew there was a hint of mischief and passion.

"Put these on." he rasped in full authority, his beard looking so inviting for wanting a short visit in between your throbbing heat since the moment he came to interfere.

"---Because you've been bad, sweetheart," pause. "---and I have zero patience for brats like you,"

You squirmed against your seat, hastily grabbing onto the handcuffs thrown on the table with a grin on your face, subtly looking outside to see your boyfriend's truck parked at the far distance before plucking the manacles off the table and sliding off the seat; with your lieutenant paying for the lunch he loathed, feeling his eyes heavy and thoroughly deprived of seeing your face after nose diving in murder cases he had been working on for weeks.

Marshall hated to see you leave. Those peepers trained on how you've dramatically swayed your hips while you waved the cuffs in the air.

But, he loved watching you go with that naughty derriere snapping from side to side.

THANK YOU FOR READING! STAY SAFE WHERE EVER YOU ARE, BB’S! Watch out for people who have wicked intentions for you! Don’t trust easily!

[wolveria]

Unable to perceive the shape of you - Ch. 3

Pairing: Connor x f!Reader x Nines

Summary: After breaking the RK twins out of the MarineLife facility, you were determined to return them to the ocean before getting caught by your employer.

What you hadn’t counted on were the brothers deciding you belonged to them.

Prompt: Mermay! (Shape of Water/Splash AU)

Word Count: 3k

AO3

Getting the RK brothers out of MarineLife was surprisingly simple, especially when the head of security was in charge that night, a particular rat bastard who happened to have an unfortunate interest in you.

It was simple to strike up a conversation with Gavin, standing outside on the loading platform on his smoke break. You succeeded in drawing his attention away from the back door, allowing the twins to walk through and hide in the shadows until you could make your own escape.

What wasn’t simple was actually executing that escape, as you were now trapped politely declining Gavin’s pushy advances.

“Come on,” he said, leaning an arm against the wall and effectively blocking the path to the parking lot. The halogen lights hanging on the outside of the lab highlighted the scar on his nose, giving him an especially sinister look that evening. “Go out with me, just for one night. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Cringing internally at his smarmy smirk, you tried to smile as you waved away the cigarette smoke in your face. You didn’t know why the head of security took the graveyard shift when he could relegate it to someone else, and the implications had always set you on edge. It was no secret he got the job because his half-brother was the founder of the company, and everyone despised him, even his own brother.

Most nights you specifically waited to leave until he was off his smoke break and wouldn’t catch you outside, but now that you had his attention you wondered how badly it would backfire.

“No, thanks. I’m fine.”

He screwed up his nose and pulled in another lungful of smoke.

“What, you got a boyfriend or somethin’?”

You opened your mouth to answer no, but hesitated a fraction of a second too long. Not knowing why your mind had immediately gone to the two brothers, you decided a different answer might be more useful here.

“Actually,” you finally said. “I do.”

Gavin scoffed and rolled his eyes as he flicked the ashes off his cigarette.

“Yeah, sure.”

“It’s true,” you insisted, folding your arms across your chest. A protective gesture against his lingering, unwanted gaze. “He’s waiting for me at home.”

“Then why haven’t I ever heard of him?”

You clutched your arms tighter as the anger finally slipped through.

“Because it’s none of your goddamn business, Gavin.”

Heart thudding and each breath shaking, you took advantage of his stunned expression to walk past him, waiting for him to say something in response.

He never did.

Before you went to the first row of cars where you’d watched Connor and Nines ducked down, you checked over your shoulder. Gavin was still outside staring in your direction, but at least he wasn’t following.

When you were out of sight, you whispered Connor’s name and nearly jumped out of your skin as both brothers slipped out from the shadows between two vehicles. For having lived all of their lives in water, they sure knew how to be silent on land.

You unlocked your old car and slipped inside, making sure they both had their seatbelts secure before you drove from the lot. Your hands were still shaking and you wished you had an automated car instead of the ancient Subaru that was about as old as you were.

The drive from Belle Isle to your apartment was silent and strange. You didn’t know what to say to the twins, and they didn’t say anything in return. At least, out loud. You’d always had the suspicion they could communicate in some way humans couldn’t understand, and now you believed it when out of the corner of your eye you saw Connor slightly move in the passenger seat. Head tilted and slightly angled toward the back seat where Nines resided.

But not a word was said aloud, so you kept quiet as well.

Packing up what you wanted to take with you was depressingly easy and quick. There wasn’t much, and once you had a duffel bag stuffed full of clothes and toiletries, you were basically ready to leave your life behind. There was nothing to keep you there. Nothing you would miss or couldn’t live without.

You weren’t sure where you were going yet. You plotted into your GPS the most direct route to the east coast. The fastest way would be to cut through Canada across the lakes, but even if you managed to smuggle the brothers across the border, the chance you would be caught reentering the country a few hours later in order to reach the ocean were too high.

So you settled for heading south toward Cleveland and making it to the Atlantic within a day. Possibly two, if you ran into problems.

You wanted to drive as long as you could, but four hours after you’d broken the twins out of the facility, you were barely able to keep your eyes open and your legs were killing you. Disappointed with your lack of progress, but not wanting to fall asleep at the wheel, you stopped in Cleveland and paid for a cheap hotel room with cash.

You were so tired that you didn’t think about the fact you’d rented one room, with one bed. You decided you didn’t care. The drive and the strange night had taken a toll, and by the time you’d gone into the bathroom to change into a loose shirt and sleeping shorts, you were willing to sleep on the floor just to get some rest.

Exhaustion made you bold; you tucked into the middle of the bed and patted the covers next to you. Connor got the idea first, and shed his shirt and pants quickly, giving you barely any time to choke out, “Connor, please keep your underwear on.”

He tilted his head and pulled his fingers away from the waistband of his boxer-briefs. It was bad enough he was wearing next to nothing as he crawled under the covers, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him to put his jeans back on. Connor had picked them out himself when you’d stopped at a thrift store before leaving Detroit, and they fit him a little too well.

For a guy who’d never had legs before, she sure had them now.

“Nines.” He hadn’t moved from his spot near the door, frozen as if ready to run. You patted the mattress on the other side of you, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible. As if you could ever really pose a threat to him. “You need sleep. Come and lie down.”

He still looked like he might flee out the door, the yellow glow of his armband glowing from underneath the sleeve of his shirt. They’d both had to continue wearing hoodies to cover the bright bands, which you hoped wouldn’t attract attention as it was the beginning of summer and already sweltering hot during the day.

Nines eventually followed your suggestion, though much more reluctantly than his brother, and pulled off his hoodie but left on his own pair of jeans and shirt.

“You’re going to overheat,” Connor told him, a disapproving tilt to his mouth. “You really should remove your clothing.”

“Thank you for your opinion, brother,” he replied, almost petulant, and you had to press your lips together to keep from smiling.

Head already on the pillow, you closed your eyes as you faced Connor. You would have preferred to lie on your back, but there simply wasn’t enough room on the Queen-sized bed when shared with two larger bodies.

When you felt the mattress dip behind you, you were forced to move closer to Connor, your knees and feet brushing together. You made sure to keep your eyes shut tight; it was bad enough you could feel his warm breath on your face, but you didn’t think you would survive seeing those warm, brown eyes up close.

Despite his larger frame, Nines somehow managed to not touch you at all. You tried not to be disappointed, because that would have been unreasonable and wrong. Fortunately, as soon as Connor reached back and turned off the lamp, you were already falling into a deep sleep.

When you opened your eyes again, you were confused for several reasons.

One, the room was still dark apart from a faint, soothing blue from the armbands of the sleeping brothers.

Two, you were caged in on both sides by warm, bare skin. Extremely warm skin, especially from your front.

You opened your eyes and carefully looked down, seeing the tangle of limbs wrapped around you. It took you a moment to realize both brothers had their arms wrapped around you. Nines was pressed against your back while Connor had you tucked against his chest.

Your mouth was dry as sand as your heart pounded loudly in your ears. You could still hear their soft breathing, informing you they were asleep, which you were grateful for. You had to find a way to deal with the very obvious erections: one against your stomach while the other was pressed against your ass. Nines had definitely removed his clothes during the night, and you couldn’t tell if he even had underwear on.

Shutting your eyes tight, you tried to tamp down the heat in your lower gut and the sudden wetness between your legs. Panic warred with your arousal. It was wrong, you shouldn’t feel this way about them, but your body had decided it didn’t care that they were human.

Just that they were close, their unique scent of clean salt filling your senses, their warm bodies pressed against you.

Still… should they be this warm?

You put your fingertips against Connor’s arm with a frown. His skin was burning hot, and despite the face you were sweating through your clothes, neither of them seemed to be damp at all. You couldn’t find a single drop of sweat under your fingers, just an expanse of hot, dry skin.

Concern outweighing your embarrassment, you gently shook Connor by the shoulder and whispered, “Connor, can you hear me?”

The sharp breath didn’t come from in front of you, but from over your shoulder, and after a few seconds Nines quickly removed his arms and legs from around you.

He said your name in a question, voice hoarse, and you looked over your shoulder.

“It’s Connor,” you told him. “He’s really warm.”

“Shit.”

Nines was out of the bed in an instant; you were able to watch his progress across the room to the light switch by the yellow glow of his armband. When he turned the light on and moved to Connor’s side and placed a hand on the back of his neck, the armband flashed red before returning to yellow.

“He’s dehydrated,” Nines said grimly. “We both are.”

In the glow of the bedside lamp you were able to see he was correct. All along both of their shoulders and cheeks was bluish skin, as if they’d been badly bruised. You even thought you could see it begin to peel.

“Connor, wake up,” his brother said, gently shaking him by the shoulder.

Connor groaned and clung to you tighter, pulling you flat against his chest and almost squeezing the breath out of you.

Nines frowned and grabbed Connor’s wrists, forcing his arms apart long enough for you to escape their reach.

He rolled Connor onto his back and studied his features, frowning further. Nines gently tapped him on the cheek, and when he didn’t get a response, he slapped him.

“Wake up, Connor!”

“Ow!” Connor hissed, glaring up at his brother through slitted eyes. “What was that for!”

“To wake you,” Nines responded, eyes hooded and unimpressed. “Now, get up before I do it again.”

Without waiting for a response, Nines grabbed him by the arm and forced him out of bed, propping Connor up by using his shoulder for support. Nines grit his teeth and said, “Help me get him to the bathroom.”

“I’m fine,” Connor insisted, but you listened to Nines and opened the bathroom door ahead of them. You flipped on the switch to reveal the sad state of it, faded tiles and peeling wallpaper, and then moved out again because there wouldn’t be enough room for the three of you.

“You’re not fine. You’re suffering from desiccation sickness.” Nines removed Connor’s arm from around his shoulder, turned him around, and half-pushed, half-carried him down into the bathtub.

“Hey!—“

Connor let out an undignified squawk when Nines turned on the shower full-blast, hitting Connor in the face with it.

You let out a yelp and sprang out of the way just in time. Connor’s pale, freckled legs had sprouted into a powerful grey tail that slapped against the floor in a tantrum.

As the water drenched his face and chest, Connor went almost completely limp, tilting his head back and sighing as his yellow armband went to a calm blue.

You just stood there, unable to stop staring at the rubbery tail and the grey fin sticking out from his back. It had been the first time since you’d seen their ceta features since leaving the MarineLife lab.

Nines turned off the shower and stared down at his brother with his arms folded across his chest.

“Better?”

“Yeah,” Connor said, a slight shake in his voice. “Thanks.”

Nines hummed in acknowledgement and leaned down, placing the back of his hand against Connor’s forehead.

“Still too warm,” the larger brother said, frowning unhappily. “I fear the hormone injections have made it worse for you. Even so, we both need to be fully submerged, and for longer than a few minutes. The bath won’t be large enough for even one of us.”

It was true, Connor barely fit in the tub sitting in it sideways. There was no way he would be able to get his entire lower body completely underwater.

“What about the motel pool?”

They both turned to look at you, and you flushed under the scrutiny. It would have been better one of them hadn’t been in his underwear and the other was now technically naked.

“It should be open for the summer. I know it’s chlorinated, but so were the pools back at the lab. The only issue is it’s not saltwater, so I’m not sure how well you can survive in—“

“It’ll do for now,” Nines interrupted. He blinked and in a gentler tone said, “Thank you for the suggestion.”

“Sure,” you said, shrugging and turning away so they couldn’t see the flush on your face.

“We have to remove the armbands first,” Connor insisted. You were forced to look away a second time when you saw patches of grey, rubbery skin disappear, replaced by smooth, human flesh. His underwear was a tattered band around his waist, and there was nothing to cover him.

You quickly grabbed a towel and handed it in his direction all while keeping your head turned away. “How do we, uh, remove them?”

“I imagine we’ll just have to tear them out,” Nines said. “Whatever damage is caused will heal in the water.”

You glanced back, saw Connor had wrapped the towel around his waist, and breathed in relief. He sat on the edge of the tub, and when Nines also straddled the edge of the tub to take his brother’s arm in his hand to examine the glowing band, your chest tightened.

“Are… are you sure this is a good idea?” you stammered. “It sounds… risky.”

“We don’t have any choice,” Connor said. His brown eyes were soft, his damp hair clinging to his skin in a way that was unfairly sexy. “It’ll be all right. The damage won’t be permanent.”

You watched, stiff and motionless, as Nines gripped the top edge of the armband and tore downwards.

Connor flinched and gripped the edge of the tub, shoulders hunched as blue blood trickled down his arm. Like some other sea creatures, they had hemocyanin in their blood, giving it that particular shade.

Nines frown was concentrated and his brows furrowed as he slowly tugged the armband a centimeter at a time. Thin filaments connected Connor’s skin and the band, the strands ending in electrodes buried in the muscle.

More blood trickled down his arm with each tug and you felt the wooziness return, the blood rushing from your head. You sat down on the closed toilet lid before you could collapse, but said nothing so you wouldn’t distract Nines.

He glanced up at you anyway, frowning further.

“You don’t have to stay for this,” Connor said, giving you a shaky smile.

“N-no, I’m fine. I’m not going to leave you.”

Nines gave a soft snort as if he found your statement amusing.

“If you want to be helpful, you can go out and purchase some more food. We’re going to need it after this.”

You looked away, a sharp pain tugging in your chest. Connor shot him an irritated look; the kind that said he was was going to start a fight with his brother. You’d seen that expression on Connor’s face just before he snapped and hissed at the larger ceta, though Nines had usually ignored him.

Despite Nines’ track record with biting and maiming personnel, he’d never hurt Connor once. You knew he was in good hands now, and Nines would do everything he could to look out for him.

“Good idea,” you said, standing up and putting on a smile for Connor’s sake. “I’ll go see what’s open and grab us some food.”

Connor’s eyes took on the same puppy dog look they always did when you had to leave after your stolen swimming sessions.

You didn’t want to leave him either, not like this when he was so obviously in pain and discomfort, but you weren’t any use to them pacing around and wringing your hands. It was better to actually do something helpful, like you’d promised.

“I’ll have my phone in case you need me.” Just before leaving Detroit, you’d tossed your old phone and bought three disposables, one for each of you in case you got separated. You’d even made sure they were waterproof, in case the twins had to make an escape in the nearest waterway.

“We won’t need it,” Nines said, once again dismissive as he concentrated on Connor’s arm.

Before Connor could argue, which he clearly wanted to from the indignation on his face, you slipped out of the bathroom, got dressed, and left the motel room. Clutching your room key and walking down to your car, able to clear your head without the sight and smell of the strange, copper-scented blood, you tried not to take Nines’ tone personally. Maybe he really didn’t like you, and you’d misinterpreted all the little signs and gestures as something more than they were.

The unhelpful part of your brain pulled up the memory of being pressed between them, wrapped up in their arms, and you suppressed it immediately. It didn’t mean anything, and you had more important things to focus on than pathetic, wishful thinking.

Next Chapter

[sm-entertain-me]

Bluff (M)

Contains: Park Seonghwa x (f) reader, adult language, mentions of alcohol, smut, exhibitionism, heavy foreplay, dirty talk, teasing, marking, explicit depictions of sex, unprotected sex, bondage, begging kink, oral sex (male receiving), overstimulation, switch!Seonghwa, switch!reader (honestly inexperienced dom, very experienced sub), fuckboy!Seonghwa, mentions of previous lovers Hongjoong and Yeosang, college!au, nonidol!au

Synopsis: Seonghwa has always bragged about what he was able to do in the bedroom; describing his favorite positions, imitating moans and groans from his female partners, and even reenacting the events of the night in hopes of convincing a girl to come home with him. But you see right through his cocky grin and it’s time to call his bluff.

Author’s Note: This is easily the longest smut I’ve written (over 5k words) because Seonghwa has that kind of effect on me. AND HE’S NOT EVEN MY BIAS FROM ATEEZ. Like what the hell?! Also, this is NOT part of the Welcome to Wonderland series, I just had to write this. Enjoy!

“Oh my god, Park Seonghwa is so fucking hot,” Your friend swooned as she was staring across the room at the man in question, ultimately having her knees buckle whenever he locked eyes with her. She made it very clear to you on multiple occasions that she would do anything to be underneath Seonghwa at some point, while you made it very clear that you didn’t want to hear any of the details of her fantasies. To be quite frank, you kind of hated Seonghwa and how he carried himself.

You followed your friend’s eyes to see Seonghwa sipping languidly on his solo cup while hanging out with his posse and talking up a group of very eager girls. You could tell that the blonde bimbos were Seonghwa’s type by the overall appearance of the girls flocking him. Rolling your eyes when his eyes met yours from across the room for a split second, you scoffed and responded to your friend’s lust filled outburst, “Seonghwa isn’t that hot. I’d honestly prefer San or Yunho over Seonghwa any day.”

The look on your friend’s face made it seem like you just insulted her grand ancestors as she dramatically pressed her hand to her chest, making a dramatic scoffing noise as she stared at you, “Are you saying that you wouldn’t let Seonghwa fuck you silly if you had the chance? That’s blasphemy! Every girl in this place would kill to be under Seonghwa for even a minute.”

Again, you rolled your eyes at you friend and shot her a glare that screamed don’t push it as you sipped on your alcoholic beverage, trying your best to ignore Seonghwa’s all but innocent stares direct your way. Everything you said was true though. You would rather go for San or Yunho, hell, you would even take Wooyoung over Seonghwa strictly because the aforementioned boys didn’t act like stuck up, entitled pricks every time they bedded a woman. They were actually gentleman about it, something you had heard from a couple of your female colleagues around campus. But for some ungodly reason, everyone flocked to Seonghwa and his pompous attitude.

Seonghwa was the kind of person who viewed women as objects during his sexcapades, never giving a shit about how the women felt after he took what he wanted of them. He refused to speak to them any time after, never hung around the same girl for too long in fears of rumors circulating that he was dating the poor girl, and even went as far as to send a nude of a girl around campus. Normally, someone would get into some serious legal trouble over that kind of stuff, but not Park Seonghwa. He was untouchable, and you absolutely despised it.

That’s when you came up with an idea that was virtually fool-proof, even Seonghwa couldn’t fuck it up with his overwhelming stupidity. Immediately, your frame straightened as you glanced at your friend, thinking of all the elements of your plan as you carried them out simultaneously, “Tell you what, I’ll go after Seonghwa just to prove to you one, how easy it is to get with him, and two, how to strip him of his pride. It’s about time someone took him down a couple notches.”

As you left the company of your friend with a now fuller cup of alcohol because you knew you would need it to allow the plan to continue, you barely caught a glimpse of her confused yet concerned face as you made a B-line straight for Seonghwa and his posse of attractive men surrounding some beautiful women. When you approached, you were met with kind smiles and greetings from the group as you had known Hongjoong and Yeosang from your history lecture, casually inviting you to hang out at their frat house, which led to you knowing San, Wooyoung, Jongho, Mingi, Yunho and unfortunately, Seonghwa.

“Hey Y/N, glad you could make it!” Mingi spoke as he approached you and gave you a hug, the rest of the boys saying their greetings and offering you either a hug or some kind of gesture to welcome you into the group. The girls of the group were a little leerier of you because they didn’t know who you were or what your intentions were. Some of them offered you a smile while the ones crowded around Seonghwa glared at you like you were the most distasteful thing in the room. Little did they know that that title rightfully belonged to the person whose arms were wrapped around their shoulders, the person’s hands being really close to their breasts. Typical Seonghwa.

“Of course, Mingi. I wouldn’t miss this party for the world. Thanks for inviting me, I’m having a really great time,” You responded after Wooyoung was the last to give you a hug, his hands lingering at little more south than you would have liked. But you were in no place to correct him since your thoughts were a little on the impure side anyway, and he was probably a little drunk and looking for someone to take into his bedroom. It’s no secret that Wooyoung would easily take you given the chance, but as mentioned before, he’s a bit more of a gentleman than that. And believe you me, you would’ve jumped Wooyoung’s bones given the chance. Unfortunately for Wooyoung, tonight is not the night where he gets to finally have you in his bed like Hongjoong had a week prior. You were here for someone else.

When everyone accepted you in the group and made you part of the casual conversation going on throughout the group, you finally took the opportunity to look up at Seonghwa, who was busy hitting on one of the various blonde girls. “Seonghwa,” You called out, grabbing his attention from the beautiful women and having his head snap in your direction, an annoyed look on his face. “You talk a really big game when it comes to women. And I know how much you’ve been trying to fuck me, but I won’t give you the time of day. How’s about we play a little game of Too Hot?”

You could practically see Seonghwa’s eyes light up with glee, immediately peeling his arms away from the women as he focused all his attention on you, “You want to play Too Hot with me? A game where I get to take your breath away for about a minute before you’re begging me to fuck you? Name your terms babygirl, what happens if I win?”

“Well,” You began as you took a sip from your cup, clearing your throat to prepare yourself for what you were about to say, contrasting completely with your previous beliefs and thoughts about Seonghwa. “If you win, I have to submit and do whatever you want. If I win, you have to submit and do whatever I want. Sound like something you can handle, Babyboy?”

Seonghwa gulped to himself at the thought of having to possibly submit to you if you won, but he was far more confident in his ability to have you begging for him to fuck you that he didn’t really think much of his odds. He looked around at the group of men who were nodding quickly, encouraging him to go for it. Hongjoong pretty much sealed the deal for you since he was the only one who had the honor of bedding you after a stressful study session, “You have to. She’s easily the best I’ve ever had. If you don’t, Wooyoung will gladly do it for you.”

Seonghwa’s decision was made for him when he let you grab his hand and pull him away from the group, leading him to the couch right in the middle of the party. Partygoers looked over at the two of you and dismissed you, not really caring if you guys were going to do anything since these frat parties are structured to have people doing sinful things the whole entire night anyway. Once you knew no one was going to distract you from achieving your goal, save for Yeosang and Mingi giving Seonghwa the thumbs up, you got to work.

You made it so that Seonghwa was sitting beneath you while your thighs captured his slim figure between your legs, making sure your clothed core was as close as you could get before Seonghwa said it was considered touching. Seonghwa smirked up at you before he tilted his head up at you, exposing his wonderful looking neck that had you feeling some type of way. But you quickly shunted your feelings about running your tongue all over his neck as you leaned forward and captured Seonghwa’s soft lips on yours.

The kiss was slow a first, the two of you trying to figure out which techniques would get the other to break first, but then it quickly grew into a porn worthy makeout session as you both fought for dominance over the other. Seonghwa was putting up quite the fight as he bit down on your lip, sucking hard on the flesh and smirking against your lips when he heard your breathing become labored. He was sure he would have you cracking by the end of this.

But you weren’t one to give in easily, and nor did you play fair. You finally ripped your lips away from Seonghwa’s struggling to catch your breath as you looked down at the cocky piece of shit between your legs. He simply tilted his head to the side, admiring your slightly fuck out features as he commented, “What’s wrong, sweetie? Can’t take it anymore? It’s okay, you can give in to your desires and I’ll have you screaming for more in less than five minutes. Just touch me, you know you want to.” It was at that moment that a smirk formed on your face, “In your dreams, Park.”

Quickly, you leaned into Seongwha’s figure, but not to kiss his lip. No, you went for the juncture of his neck, using a technique that made every single one of your previous lovers crack, even Hongjoong. Once your lips connected to Seonghwa’s neck, you knew he wouldn’t last for very much longer given the way his muscles tensed, and his breathing hitched at the feeling of your warm lips covering his neck in purple hickies.

“Th-That’s not fair,” Seonghwa stuttered as you continued your assault on his neck, licking your way up from the juncture of his neck all the way to his earlobe. You could only smirk as you sucked his earlobe into your mouth, nibbling on the soft skin and feeling Seonghwa’s resolve begin to crumble. Releasing his earlobe from your lips, you licked the shell of his ear slowly, watching all the goosebumps form on his pristine skin, and it was all because of you. The thing that sent Seonghwa over the edge was when you leaned in and whispered in the sexiest tone you could, “Dirty girls always play dirty.”

Seonghwa couldn’t contain himself anymore as his hands finally acted on their own accord, gripping onto your hips and forcing you to grind down on his now hardened length as he took one of his hands and grabbed your chin forcefully, pulling you to look at him before he devoured you in his kisses. The kiss was not like any you had just shared with him. These kisses had purpose, had yearning. Seonghwa’s kisses stripped you of any kind of stable breathing you had as you melted into his touch, trying to muffle your moaning with Seonghwa’s lips as he forced your core to grind down against his length, occasionally catching your clit on the fabric of his jeans. Even though you were completely under Seonghwa’s spell at this point, you couldn’t help but smirk against Seonghwa’s lips upon realizing you had beaten him at his own game.

You allowed Seonghwa to kiss you in any way he wanted for as long as he wanted, feeling generous enough to allow him to think he won something out of this encounter, but you knew who the real winner was. Seonghwa didn’t even seem to care that he lost as he continued to kiss you with so much fervor that it made your head spin, licking his way into your mouth and wrestling with your tongue while his teeth gnashed against your lips to produce the lewdest kissing sounds known to man. If it weren’t for the loud music at the party, you were sure everyone in the living area and the kitchen could hear you two swapping saliva at an alarming rate. However, when it was time to pull away, you looked down at Seonghwa’s blissful expression with his hair all disheveled and out of place before uttering two words that had his world come crashing down, “I win.”

When Seonghwa finally realized he was the one that touched you first by grabbing onto your hips, he placed his hand on his forehead and rubbed it, silently cursing to himself for letting you win at something he could’ve easily dominated you with. Still straddling his legs, you turned to look back at your previous group with all the guys and were met with their jaws hanging down and some of them having their hands covering their pretty obvious bulges. Another smirk fell on your lips as you turned your attention back to a very concerned looking Seonghwa, teasing him as you spoke, “Alright babyboy, you lost fair and square. Now let’s go. I guarantee it won’t be as bad as you think.”

“If I still get to fuck you, then that’s fine by me I guess,” Seonghwa responded as he watched you climb off of his lap, him slipping his hand in his jeans to adjust some things before he could stand up properly. You rolled your eyes at the cocky boy as you grabbed his hand yet again, leading him through the vast amounts of partygoers while some of the girls shot you menacing glares for being able to be Seonghwa’s fuck buddy for the night. But they have no idea what you’re about to do to their precious Seonghwa.

Once the two of you made it into Seonghwa’s room, you instructed Seonghwa to lay on the bed and wait for further instruction while you poked around his room to find something that is very important in this whole ordeal. You needed to find some rope or some kind of containment device that would render Seonghwa useless because if he could take your breath away with a kiss like that, you needed to be sure he couldn’t do anything to you while you proceeded to break him down otherwise you would probably submit to him in three seconds flat. Even he knew that.

“Bottom drawer, behind the lube,” Seonghwa said lazily, knowing exactly what you were looking for. He wasn’t stupid, he knew you needed to get him to fully submit if you were going to have your way with him.

When you got your hands on the bright red ropes hidden behind bottles upon bottles of lube and boxes of magnum condoms, you smiled innocently at Seonghwa as you turned to face him. He didn’t seem to like the look on your face as he sighed at you, waiting for his instructions like he had promised. He absolutely hated being someone’s sub, despised it even. He didn’t like giving control to someone else, especially in the bedroom because he knew he wouldn’t like it nearly as much as when he had full control over his subs. But rules are rules.

You kept your innocent smile as you walked over to Seonghwa, still completely dressed and waiting on the bed with his arms crossed over his chest. Looking down at him, you reached out your hand to signal to him that he needed to give you his, Seonghwa reluctantly giving you his hand in the process. You quickly strung up his wrist and secured it to the bedpost behind his head, repeating the process with his second hand and stepping back to admire your knot work. You weren’t the best at tying knots when it came to bedroom stuff, it was usually something the man did for you. But after watching Yeosang doing it to you one night, you kind of picked up which techniques would work best.

Now that Seonghwa was completely at your mercy, the real fun could begin. Your innocent smile quickly turned into a devilish grin as you made sure to lock the door to Seonghwa’s room before you turned to look at him, standing at the edge of the bed as you began to strip at a painfully slow pace, starting with your low cut shirt. You began to run your hands down your toned torso, stopping at the hem of your shirt before lifting it high above your head to reveal your black and red laced bra. Of course you knew you were going to get laid tonight so you came prepared, you just didn’t know Seonghwa would be the one seeing your lingerie.

You could hear Seonghwa groan at the sight of your plump breasts barely being contained in the bra, watching him thrash in his restraints as he cursed from not being able to touch any part of you that he wanted. The smirk on your face only deepened as you chuckled at his pathetic attempts to get out of the restraints, continuing the teasing with unbuttoning and unzipping your shorts at a painfully slow rate. Once the shorts were off, Seonghwa’s eyes nearly popped out of his head upon seeing the matching red and black lace set, making it much worse when you turned around to give him the full show of your thong. Seonghwa wanted nothing more than to spank that perfect little ass of yours until you were crying out for him.

“Tell me, Seonghwa,” You began as you threw your shorts and top somewhere around his room, walking slowly to Seonghwa’s left side of the bed and stopping to look down at him as his eyes struggled to make eye contact with you when you were dressed in barely there lingerie. “How does it feel to be the helpless one? I’ve never had an opportunity to be the dominant one and I could really get used to this feeling.”

Seonghwa swallowed hard after he was done staring at your breasts, catching a glimpse of your pert nipple through the thin fabric, looking up at you, “It kind of sucks that I can’t make you regret teasing me like this. All I want to do and pin you to the mattress and fuck you so hard that your pussy will forever have the imprint of my dick or have you cumming four times and crying out before I make you cum the fifth time. If I had my way with you, you wouldn’t be able to speak.”

“Cute,” You commented as you ran your hands over the red rope containing Seonghwa’s wrists in a slightly tighter rendition of the knots Yeosang used on you. But before you continued talking down to your new sub, you swung your leg over Seonghwa’s waist and sunk your barely clothed core down against Seonghwa’s raging hard on, causing him to wince at the added pressure. When you were sure Seonghwa had your full attention, you leaned down against his chest and ghosted your lips over the shell of his ear, “But it’s my way tonight.”

You managed to strip Seonghwa of all of his clothes as best as you could, thankful that he was wearing a button down and you didn’t have to try and pull his shirt over his head, merely unbuttoning the shirt to reveal his more than toned body to you. Seonghwa caught the way you swallowed upon seeing his abdomen but chose not to comment on it because he finally learned his place in the bedroom tonight. But still, you continued on your way as you finally got his boxers off and were left with him lying completely bare underneath you while you still had your lingerie on. Luckily for Seonghwa, you had a little bit of mercy and took off everything for him instead of being cruel and keeping the thong on while just moving the fabric to the side to fuck him.

After all the clothing was on the ground, you smirked down at Seonghwa who made his mouth parted at the sight of seeing your bare breasts and glistening pussy. He was already a wreck for you, but you decided to take it further by resting your engorged clit against his leaking cock, rutting yourself against him like a dog in heat before leaning down to capture his lips in another breathtaking kiss. It was apparent the effect the kissing and the grinding had on Seonghwa as his wrists thrashed against the ropes, wanting nothing more than to grab your throat, turn you on your back, and pound you into the mattress. Of course, you knew he wanted to do that, that’s why you continued to torture the poor boy by giving him more hickies on the side of his neck you neglected the first time around.

“Y/N, please,” Seonghwa begged as your lips continued to run along the column of his neck, nipping here and sucking there. He was quickly falling apart for you and you hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but to be fair, he wasn’t used to this kind of treatment in the bedroom. It’s usually him doing the torturing.

You would be lying to yourself if you didn’t think Seonghwa’s soft pleas had any effect on you, but you wanted to hear even more and your movements on his neck halted, taking yourself away from his neck to look down at him and cock a brow at him. “Please what?” You asked, taunting him. You knew Seonghwa wasn’t much of a beggar, but you were willing to find out since he couldn’t do much about it.

Seongwha glared up at you, his lips never moving to utter more pleas. But that simply won’t do as you sat back up, the only thing touching was your trembling clit and the shaft of his cock. There was nothing else stimulating either one of you, which was fine for you. You could just leave and give yourself a couple minutes with the showerhead in Seonghwa’s bathroom and you would be fine, but Seonghwa had it a little bit harder if he wanted to cum at all tonight. You could tell he was more of a bratty sub anyway.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me,” You spoke languidly, looking down at Seonghwa with unamused eyes. He simply returned your gaze, waiting to see what you were going to do. He thought to himself that there wasn’t anything too bad that you could do to him to make him beg for you, but he didn’t know your ways. You smirked as you got off of his waist and opted for shimmying down his body until your mouth was mere centimeters from his dripping cock that had some of your own juices on if from the earlier stunt you pulled. You leaned forward slightly and kissed the tip of Seonghwa’s cock, acting like you were going to suck him off but merely gripped at the base of his shaft, waiting for him to give you what you wanted before you continued anything. “I said, please what?”

Seonghwa shivered at the feeling of your hand just resting on his cock, paired with you purposely breathing air on his leaking slit. You watched as his fists clenched together within their restraints, taking this opportunity to give one shallow thrust of his shaft but that was it. No rubbing your thumb across his slit, no more kissing the top of his cock, not even a simple kitten lick to clean up some of the precum slipping down his cock. Nothing. That’s when he begged for you. “Please do something, anything! I just need to be inside you somehow and I can’t take it anymore. I just need you!” Show time.

You quickly enveloped Seonghwa’s cock into your mouth, laying your tongue flat against his cock as you bobbed up and down of his length. Your hand would pump him at the base since he was a little bigger than you had thought he would be, working him with both your mouth and your hand so that no skin on his cock was untouched. For that, Seonghwa was grateful as he bit his lip harshly, trying to mask his groans of pleasure but couldn’t help himself when you hallowed your cheeks around his length.

The feeling of your moist and warm mouth encasing around Seonghwa’s cock was beginning to become too much as he thrashed under you, trying to warn you that if you continued to suck him off in the most addicting way he had ever felt, he would cum right then and there. Your ego was stroked by this information as you gripped onto his thighs and pushed yourself all the way down his length, pushing your nose against his pubic bone as your throat collapsed around him from gagging on his cock. But you didn’t want to push yourself as you sucked all the air out of your mouth and ran your mouth back up his shaft, pulling away from his cock with a sickening pop and admiring the state of Seonghwa’s fucked out face.

Even though you pretty much sucked Seonghwa’s soul out of his body by giving him the best head of his life, there was still the matter of you getting off. Normally, you allowed your past lovers a little recovery time before you allowed them to fuck you, but Seonghwa didn’t deserve that luxury. You made quick work scrambling back up his body and hovering your now drenched pussy over his painfully hard cock, looking darkly at Seonghwa while smirking as you sunk down on his cock without a word of warning.

“Holy fu-fuck,” Seonghwa struggled to speak, his eyes blinking faster than normal as he felt every single ripple inside of you, cursing at you for not being like all his other flings and using a condom. You had nothing to worry about on your end since you had a very effective form of contraceptive, and you just loved the look on Seonghwa’s face as his jaw tightened from the intense feeling of wetness coating his cock from both your arousal and your saliva from earlier. “G-God you’re so tight. Does anyone ever fuck you right?”

Not really wanting to dawn on your past lovers when you’re kind of on a mission to destroy Seonghwa at his own game, you rolled your eyes at his remark and began to roll your hips against him, leaning back to grip his ankles and fuck him at one of your favorite angles. In this angle, Seonghwa’s cock dug deep inside of you to the point the tip of his cock was barely kissing your cervix, driving the both of you crazy. He could even see the way your eyes rolled back and how your jaw dropped open when his cock hit your spot this way. That’s when he knew he could do some damage as payback for everything you’ve done to him.

Even though he couldn’t move his arms the way he wanted to, ultimately wanting to pull you down by your hips while he fucked into you from below to have you screaming for more, he was still able to move his hips form underneath you. While you were too busy rocking yourself back and forth on Seonghwa’s cock, pulling him in and out whenever you lifted your hips off of him just to slam back down, Seonghwa smirked to himself as he flicked his hips upwards to get your attention.

Upon realizing he could move his hips; you began to panic slightly. You made sure to keep his wrsits at bay, but you failed to tie his ankles to the bed as well, resulting in Seonghwa piercing his cock ever deeper than you would’ve liked and timing his thrusts with whenever you decided to plop right back down on his cock. But it was far too late for you now as you leaned forward and hung onto Seonghwa’s hips for dear life while he pounded into you from below.

“S-Seonghwa,” You breathed out as you continued to rock against him, timing your movements perfectly with Seonghwa’s harsh thrusts from below you. Your eyes were closed with pure bliss washing over you, your hands were gripping onto your breasts and kneading the tender flesh, and your mouth was permanently opened as you continued to call out his name. You were losing your mind on Seonghwa’s cock; your walls were pulsing uncontrollably around Seonghwa’s thick cock, you were pinching your nipples to stimulate yourself even more while Seonghwa already took care of your throbbing clit with every single thrust he delivered from beneath you as his pubic bone provided just the right amount of friction you needed, and your moans were getting louder and louder by the second. You were breaking.

“Cum for me baby, cum for daddy,” Seongwha begged as he had to fight his instincts of wrapping his hand around your throat and pumping into your from below because well, he couldn’t. Because you had to restrain his hands, Seonghwa couldn’t pull you into your orgasm as quickly as he wanted to, but he was still giving you a run for your money as you bounced on his cock. “Fuck you look so good, baby. Cum for daddy, please. Cum for me.”

White heat crashed over you as you felt your orgasm hit a lot quicker than you were expecting, causing you to arch back so far that your breasts were parallel to the ceiling as you cried out Seonghwa’s name in a fit of raw passion before your walls clamped down around his pulsing cock. Your hands wove through your hair, gripping onto the strands of your hair to try and calm yourself down as Seonghwa continued to fuck his way into you from below. You thought he was just trying to ride out your high, but the intensity of his strokes and the way you could barely hold onto him from how hard he was fucking into you let you know that he wasn’t being nice and helping you ride of your high. Seongwha was going to make you cum again whether you wanted to or not.

“I-I can’t take it anymore. No more, n-no more daddy,” You begged as you leaned forward to have your chest collide with Seonghwa’s, hoping that this gesture and your pleading would get him to eventually stop the blissful torture he was inflicting on your abused pussy. Hoping. But you could tell the way he kept fucking you with no hint of stopping told you otherwise. Until Seonghwa gave you a proposition.

“Tell you w-what,” Seonghwa said in between grunts, still hellbent on getting you overstimulated to the point you would cry. “Untie my wrists and I’ll stop. Stop m-my punishment and I’ll stop yours.”

It was a risk you were willing to take as you quickly peeled your chest that was glistening in both yours and Seonghwa’s sweat from the intense session you two just shared, reaching up and untying each of the intricately place knots within the red silk ropes. Once you freed Seonghwa’s wrists, you were rewarded with Seongwha’s intoxicating thrusts coming to a halt just like he had promised. What you weren’t expecting was Seonghwa smirking up at you, his hands wrapping around your waist, and flipping you directly on your back.

You looked up at him with widened eyes and parted lips, shocked that he was able to deceive you so well. But to be fair, you just had one of the most mind-blowing orgasms of all time with one of the people you despise most, so you weren’t really one for thinking clearly at this point. Seongwha simply looked down at you as his eyes darkened at you, his tongue coming out to lick his lips generously before placing a chaste kiss on your lips, pulling away slowly, “You’ve had your fun babygirl, but did you honestly think I would let you do what you wanted after you came and I didn’t? Now that’s no way to treat your sub, even I know that. But don’t worry, I’ll show you how a sub should really be treated.”

It was your turn to gulp as Seonghwa leaned back, grabbed your waist, and planted you firmly on your stomach with your ass high in the air. You could hear him fidgeting behind you as you felt the familiar red rope wrap around your wrists that were place behind your back, trying the knot tightly and making sure you couldn’t do anything. When Seonghwa was satisfied with his handiwork, he simply leaned down and ghosted his lips across the shell of your ear like you had done to him and whispered, 

“Safeword is kumquats.”

[katehuntington]

Title: In Bad Waters - part seven Word count: ±5570 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part seven summary: Zoë goes undercover to find out more about the murder she saw in her dream. Little does she know, that Sam and Dean do the same. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​​ and @deanwanddamons​​​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

     Confident, Zoë bends down in order to fit under the yellow ‘crime scene - do not cross’ ribbon. She takes out her federal agent ID and flips it open before the officer guarding the perimeter can ask her about it. He steps away respectfully and lets her through. 

     It’s about 10 AM and the sun is already out on this relatively warm November day. Marching up the driveway with her heels clicking rhythmically on the concrete, Zoë unbuttons her black suit jacket to let in some air. The Stars and Stripes hasn’t been taken down yet and still flutters from the top of the mast, located in the center of a perfectly landscaped garden. The fallen leaves drape parts of the neatly mowed lawn in different tones of orange and brown. Not only does this particular estate look amazing, the entire street is brochure perfect. It is obvious that the families living in these homes on Reynolds Park Road, are wealthy ones. However, the ambulances and police cars blocking the street and the officers scanning the area, indicate that something is terribly wrong. What would seem like the last place on earth for a murder, is indeed a gruesome crime scene.

     Two officers are having a conversation by the front entry. They pause the discussion once they notice the unfamiliar face approaching them. She captivates them instantly. Determined strides, head held high, clearly a woman who stands her ground in the men’s words that is law enforcement. There’s not a single trace of doubt noticeable when she flashes her ID once more.      “Agent Evans, FBI,” she states.

     “Detective Lee. This is officer Sanchez,” a tall man, with a serious case of a receding hairline, introduces his colleague a little reluctantly, clearly not happy about the presence of a fed. He holds out his hand anyway and Zoë makes eye contact, giving him a powerful handshake.      “I didn’t know the Bureau was involved,” he comments with an Upper South accent, common for the region.

     “Well, if you had paid attention while investigating the crimes in your own county, detective,” the specialist returns without missing a beat, facing the two man with enough arrogance to shut them down immediately, “- you might had noticed that there has been a murder similar to this one, making this a serial killing.”      “Still don’t make this a federal case,” Lee returns, standing his ground.      “What does, is the fact that there’s a whole string of deaths leading from Alabama up to your lovely little town.”

     Of course she just made that up on the spot, just to back up her reason to be here, but no one would be able to tell without doing some solid digging first. She is so convincing that the two men fail to counter her.      “Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. If you could be so kind to show me the way, that would be neat,” she requires, throwing them a fake smile while narrowing her eyes.

     The two officers glance at each other, it being clear as day that the detective is not amused by the way he’s spoken to. Nonetheless, he gestures to the FBI agent to get into the house. She seems like a person not to be messed with.

      They enter the villa with Zoë in tow, who nods approving while taking a look around. She glances up to the high ceilings, which are decorated with beautiful alto-reveilo, carved into the white plaster. Roman pillars support the level above, and in the back two staircases circle up to the second floor. Every square inch of the floor underneath their feet is made from marble. Renaissance paintings, portraying country sides in the 19th century and battles from the Civil War hang from the walls, a gold plated chandelier floats overhead. Flower pieces, amongst them an expensive bouquet placed on the mahogany round table in the center of the main room, gives the house a finishing touch. Zoë knows the lifestyle of the rich and famous, but this place looks more like a palace than a principal’s home in a town called Paragould.

     “As you can see, Mr. Van Dyke lived the good life. His father owned a Dutch shipping company and made millions,” Officer Sanchez explains, having noticed the federal agent’s impressed expression. “We believe the fortune he passed on to his son might have something to do with Van Dyke’s death.”

     As they climb the stairs, Zoë chuckles, but doesn’t say a word. These oblivious bastards... they have absolutely no clue, do they?      “You think something else is going on?” Lee questions, noticing the sarcasm in her little laugh.      “Money is not the motive,”  she returns, curt.

     An awkward silence follows and Zoë can feel the hostility between her and the two police officers. She has experienced it before, especially in smaller communities. Most cops despise the feds, simply because the cases they work quite literally hit close to home. The FBI is no stranger to barging in and taking over entire investigations, without sending a ‘thank you’ card. A lot of hard work for the local coppers, without any credit. Zoë can’t say she blames the police for being reluctant.

     “This way.” Sanchez beckons them after climbing the stairs to the second floor, where he turns left on the vestibule.      The closer they get to the crime scene, the more crowded it gets. The Crime Scene Unit has already arrived and forensics dust for prints, take pictures and search for evidence. When Zoë enters the room and finds Mr. Van Dyke, she frowns. 

      In the corner lies a man, probably in his mid fifties, half into a shattered exhibition case, his eyes open, death evident. It’s not the first time Zoë has seen a dead guy, but she wasn’t expecting such a violent killing committed by a ten year old. Apparently his head got smashed into the showcase; glass is scattered all over his body. He has bruises and cuts on his arms and face, but most peculiar is his probable cause of death. His neck is broken; the head at a 90° angle. 

     Zoë scans the room, which shows several signs of a struggle. One thing is certain; Van Dyke really got his ass kicked before he died. As she takes a look around, a woman wearing white latex gloves updates Lee and his partner. Zoë glances over, notices the CSU logo on her jacket, and walks over to tune in.      “- time of death was between 6:30 and 7 AM. No prints found so far,” the forensic states.      “Look at this place. There must be something,” Detective Lee ponders, his gaze panning over the crime scene.      “Not even a fiber,” she sighs. “I have to admit; I’ve never seen anything like this.”

     “Seems like the suspect has left no trace,” Zoë intervenes, mixing into the conversation.      “Someone just did a good job covering up,” Sanchez scoffs, not finding her remark relevant. “We’ll find something.”      Dude, you have no idea, Zoë thinks to herself, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. She doesn’t cut in on him, although she has about a dozen smart curve balls ready. Never get too smart around cops, who knows what she might need them for later on.

     “There’s one thing, though, but it adds more confusion than it clears up.”      The forensic walks over to the body of Mr. Van Dyke and points out the way his sweater is pulled down. It uncovers his left shoulder, the sleeve seems too long at the end by the force that was used.      “Looks like someone pulled him down. As if the killer wanted to level his victim with him or her,” she clarifies.      “The murderer was shorter than the victim,” Lee concludes.      “Not just a little shorter, I’m talking about round 4 ft. 5 here, looking at the angle and location of the bruising,” the forensic adds up.      “About the height of a ten year old, right?” Zoë fills in, as the clues sum up.      “Yeah, that would be correct, but that’s impossible. Even if a ten year old could be capable of doing such a thing, they wouldn’t have the strength,” she rules out.

     Impossible isn’t in Zoë’s dictionary, but she has seen enough. The forensics might be on a dead end, Zoë is a hundred percent sure of who Van Dyke’s killer is. She is dealing with one furious ghost child here, but two questions remain unanswered: why isn't Laura at rest and how is she able to relocate?      A cursed object is the first thing that comes to mind. Being on the clock, Zoë decides to leave and have a talk with the family.      “Thanks very much, I’ve got everything I need.” She gives both the forensic and the members of the PPD a nod, before she exits the room.

     While Zoë walks down the corridor towards the staircase, the undercover huntress goes through the things she just learned. It almost seems like Laura is trying to put her victims through the same horror she experienced before she died. She simply shows them who’s boss, just like her father used to teach her. It’s violent, not suited for viewers under the age of eighteen, and yet a girl of only ten years of age, is behind these murders. 

     Back on the first floor, Zoë can hear soft wailing coming from the dining room. For the third time this morning she shows her ID, this time to the officer guarding the shielded off private space. The door is slightly ajar, when she pushes it open further in order to enter, the investigator finds the Van Dyke family, gathered together. A woman in her early fifties with blonde pixie hair has her arms around a teenage girl, who Zoë presumes to be the principal’s daughter. The son, a few years younger than his sister, stares outside, his empty eyes gazing out over the lake, quietly grieving in his own way. Instantly, Zoë feels sorry for the family. She wouldn’t wish this upon anyone.      “Mrs. Van Dyke?”

     The woman looks up with tears in her eyes and lets go of her daughter, but not before sweetly stroking her hair. Zoë shows Mr. Van Dyke’s wife her identification.      “I’m Special Agent Evans, you can call me Sharon. I would like to ask you a few questions if that’s alright.”      The mother of two nods her head as she wipes away her tears. “Of course.”      “Your husband’s passing took place between 6:30 and 7 O'clock this morning. Where were you at this time?” Zoë questions calmly.      “I was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast,” Mrs. Van Dyke replies, having crossed one arm over her chest, her hand covering her mouth as she breathes out with a shudder.      “And you heard nothing?” the huntress wonders, her voice gentle, not wanting to upset the poor woman even more.      “Not a sound,” she shakes her head. “Heather was in her room next to Bill’s office, she didn’t hear a thing until the dog started barking, that’s when she found him.”

     Zoë nods at that, aware that dogs have a better sense of the supernatural than humans have. She glances past the woman before her, noticing the kind Australian shepherd, who has laid his head in Heather’s lap, watching up at her with worried eyes while trying to comfort his owner. The dog seems calm now, a good indication that Laura isn’t anywhere near.      What the huntress does find strange, though, is that their daughter didn’t hear a thing. The article in the newspaper yesterday about Robert Shire’s murder comes to mind. His family was home during the incident as well.

     “That will be it for now, thank you for your time,” Zoë notifies, smiling sympathetically. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”      Mrs. Van Dyke turns back to her family with half a nod, still in complete shock after this morning’s events which turned her world upside down. Zoë would like to take more time to talk to the children, but she simply doesn’t have a minute to spare. Hastened, the huntress exits the house, stepping out into the warm sun as she takes out her shades and puts them on. 

      It all makes sense now. Laura isn’t just getting even with the people who are directly or indirectly connected to her death. She’s recreating how she died. What Zoë remembers from her flashback, the poor girl was a punching bag for her father’s fist on a daily basis, but it’s not just that. No one around heard a thing, not even a single sound, like the victims were isolated from the outside world. The vision of Laura’s mother stoically continuing her dinner while her older brother watched TV. As if they couldn’t bear the abuse and therefore shut out the sounds that came along with it. 

     Pondering, Zoë strides down Reynolds Park Road, back to her bike, which she parked near the water. Unlike the police, the huntress is everything but stuck, she knows exactly where she needs to go. Next stop; The Shire residence.

     “I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”

     Dean has been complaining ever since they pulled away from the In-N-Out, when Sam came up with his newest masterplan. Their usual jeans and several layers of plaid have been replaced with black suits, the sharp dressed men now approaching Arkansas Methodist Medical Center, leaving the Impala in the parking lot.

     “We are doing this, so get used to it,” Sam returns, getting tired of his brother’s whining. “You have the ID’s?”      Dean takes out two leather wallets and flips them open, showing him the fake identification. Sam stares at the ID’s, his jaw falling open.      “FBI? Are you nuts, Dean?”      “Dad and I do it all the time. No sweat,” Dean shrugs, not that worried about getting caught.

     “What if they look up our badge numbers? This is suicide!” Sam hisses, keeping his voice down when they pass people at the entrance of the hospital.      “You wanna know what’s suicide? Meddling with Zoë’s case,” Dean counters.      Sam huffs. “Oh, come on. How bad can it be?”      “You should have seen her in Rochester when she found out we rang Cliffer and blew her cover. That wasn’t even intentional, and now you actually choose to get involved?” Dean argues.

     He gives his brother his new identification, which Sam studies carefully as he mumbles his fake name. Dean watches his brother closely, curious if he will detect the little gimmick in their aliases, them being Angus and Young. But Sam doesn’t know enough about rock music to notice that the two names combined is the full name of AC/DC’s lead guitarist. Nonetheless, Dean is proud of the inside joke.

     “She might get a little annoyed, but she won’t get mad. We’re helping her,” Sam assures, hoping his brother will stop being dramatic.      “Exactly! I’m dressed like a fucking penguin while I know she won’t ever thank us, even if we have a major breakthrough.” Dean loosens his tie a bit, smothered by the tightness of his collar.      “Look man, we can sit on our ass and waste this day or--”      “- I prefer that actually,” the oldest intervenes.      “Or--” Sam continues, sternly, “- we can do something useful.”

     With that being said, he walks through the revolving doors of the governmental facility, followed by Dean, who mutters something unintelligible; stubborn fucker. Dean might be the older sibling here, but when Sammy has got his mind set on something, he can’t be reasoned with.      Heading straight for the main desk, the Winchester brothers get into character. Sam especially looks somewhat young to be a federal agent, thankfully his height makes up for that. They both need to sell this in order to gather new information on the case.      Confidently, Dean flashes his FBI identification to the woman behind the counter. “Agent Young, this is my partner Agent Angus. We’re here to see a dead body.”      “You came to the right place,” she comments, apparently not impressed by their badges.      She calls for an older physician in a long white coat who just passed by.      “Dr. Hughes? Could you escort these two agents to the morgue?” she asks him.      “Of course, I’m heading over there anyway,” he agrees, beckoning Dean and Sam to walk with him.

     The hunters follow the doctor through the long hospital hallways. White ceilings, mint green vinyl floors and random photos and Picasso rip offs on the walls every now and then; the typical hospital decor the Winchester brothers are more familiar with than they would want to be. They’ve been inside medical centers plenty. To investigate a case, but also as a visitor whenever someone in their close circle got hurt on the job, but also as a patient. Hunting isn’t just a profession prone to injury, it’s worse than that. It’s a profession prone to death.

     Dr. Hughes eventually breaks the silence when they reach an elevator. “Who are you here for?”      “Ronald Shire,” Sam informs.      Unpleasantly surprised, Hughes looks up at the tall agent. He halts by the elevator, calling it down to the first floor. It takes a second to arrive, the doctor uncomfortably shifts from one foot to the other. Dean and Sam have noticed it, however, exchanging a look.

     “I’m sorry,” the physician apologizes when he realizes how his behavior might come across. “Ronald was a colleague of mine, but he was also a close friend.”      “Our condolences,” Dean says, knowing all about Shire’s death after Sam filled him in earlier.      Hughes pushes the button to call the elevator down, accepting the sympathy offered by the agent. “Unbelievable, isn’t it? We see death every day and yet when it hits close to home, you never see it coming.”

     Wise words, applicable to everyone. He has been there on many occasions when the final hour struck; of hunters, of people they were trying to save. One would expect all this experience to give him thick skin, since he’s used to the violence and killings. But when Jess was murdered, it hit him harder than a wrecking ball.

     The younger Winchesters train of thought is interrupted by the sound of the bell, announcing that the elevator has reached their level. He clears his throat and directs his attention to the doctor again. “Do you have an idea what happened to Mr. Shire?”      “I did the autopsy myself; it left me stunned,” Dr. Hughes tells them as they enter the elevator.

     Again the doctor presses a key and the doors close. As they slowly move down to the basement, Dean tries to find out if Hughes knows more about the case then he’s willing to let go at this point.      “We think his death might have something to do with the murder that took place in the Van Dyke residence,” he fills in.      “I heard about that on the news. CSU is still on that, though”, the physician says.      “We have one of our agents at the scene,” Sam returns, with the short statement explaining their suspicion.

     The doors open and the three enter the morgue of the hospital. It’s cool in this section and an unpleasant scent fills the area, chemicals almost masking the lingering smell of the dead. The doctor walks over to the furthest wall of metal drawers. He pulls out one of the many trays and puts on a pair of latex gloves before he zips open the body bag.      “What’s so stunning about this case?” Sam wonders.      “See for yourself.” Hughes unfolds the bag and both boys raise their eyebrows.      “Ouch,” Dean comments.

     The body of Laura’s father is badly bruised and battered, as if he got beaten up by a street gang in a bad neighborhood. His jaw is demolished, his neck broken; this is some serious abuse. The ‘Y’ shaped incisions on his torso indicated that a full autopsy has been performed on Ronald Shire, but the large stitches barely stand out between the black and broken skin.

     “That’s not all,” the doctor adds as he takes out the file. “I searched every inch of his body on the in and outside, but there is not a print, not one single fiber on him that  could point you fellas towards a suspect.”      Dean gives Sam a look without the physician seeing it. Dr. Hughes might have never seen this before, the hunters certainly have. Ghosts never leave any trace on their victims, unless they want to.

     “This caught my attention, though.” The doctor points out the bruises. “See how they run out upwards? That indicates that these injuries were caused from a lower angle. Or the killer was on its knees - which would be most unlikely - or the injuries were inflicted by someone shorter than 4 ft. 7. Someone with a growth defect, dwarf syndrome. That’s the only way I can clarify this.”      “Have you considered a child?” Sam questions, carefully.      “I have for a brief moment, but it’s theoretically impossible for a child to throw punches like this, even when it would use an object to create some kind of leverage, which I found no indication of,” the doctor explains. “Honestly, I’ve never seen damage done like this, not even by trained fighters. The evidence doesn’t add up in the slightest. This shouldn’t be possible.”

     The boys exchange another glance; the evidence adds up just fine for them. Sam tilts his head and nods to the door, giving Dean the signal that they are leaving.      “Thank you for your time, doctor.” he rounds up their visit. “If there is anything else, let us know.”      “You’re welcome, I hope you’ll get this one,” Hughes mentions while he cleans up.      “We’ll do our best,” Sam ensures.

     The two hunters leave the morgue and step back into the elevator. As soon as the doors close, the oldest of the two turns to the other.      “Laura, definitely,” the youngest brother states, determined.      “Unless this town is haunted by two frustrated mini spirits, yeah, it’s Laura.” Dean agrees, watching Sam take his phone out of his pocket as they arrive at the first floor again. “Who’re you gonna call?”      “The other Ghostbuster,” Sam replies, as he looks up Zoë’s number and presses the green button as soon as they step outside the hospital.      “Shouldn’t we get to the bomb shelter first?” the oldest suggests, snarky.      “This information could be useful”, Sam replies, but before Dean can respond to that, Zoë answers her phone.

     “Sullivan.”      “Hey Zoë, it’s Sam. Listen, I’ve got some info on Ronald Shire for you,” Sam cuts to the chase.      “Why would you have info on Laura’s dad?”      Sam cringes slightly, detecting the suspecting tone in her voice. Oh well, here goes nothing.      “We went to the Medical Center to see Shire’s body.”

      Complete silence, but Sam can almost hear Zoë’s blood boil on the other side of the line. Dean pulls his sleeve and gestures at him, frustrated.      “What are you including me for?” he hisses, making sure Zoë can’t hear him.      Sam waves him away, without making a sound he hushes his brother to be quiet, turning away from him in order not to get distracted. He takes a breath, gathering his courage. 

      “Zoë?”       “I’m sorry, I think I misunderstood you. Did you just tell me that you deliberately messed with my case, even though I told you VERY clearly not to get involved?”      The huntress’s voice trembles with anger, Sam can hear she tries to keep calm.      “We figured we could spare you some time by going ourselves--”      “- You FIGURED?!”

     Sam cowers, her voice so sharp and loud that he doesn’t have to put her on speaker for Dean to pick up on the conversation. He did move closer to his brother, invading his personal space in order to tune in.      “Better take cover,” Dean advises his brother.      Annoyed, Sam pushes his brother away and focuses on Zoë again.

     “We didn’t mess anything up if that’s what you’re worried about”, he states defensively.      “I wouldn't give a flying fuck if you solved the fucking case! You didn’t listen!”      “You’re not my boss!” Sam makes clear, not having her raging attitude, no matter how intimidated he feels by the fiery woman.      “I am the boss when it comes to MY cases, damn it! This is not a fucking candy store I’m running, Sam! You can’t go do my job without telling me, you almost got me killed last time!”      “It was an innocent morgue visit!” Sam exclaims while making a wild gesture, even though Zoë isn’t there to see it. “And honestly, would you have said ‘yes’ if I asked you first?”

     “No of course not, you fucking asshat! That’s the fucking point!” she returns, clearly furious. “I swear to God, Sam, if you and your brother cross my path again…”      “What? You’ll kill us?” Sam huffs. “Listen, Zoë. Ronald Shire was attacked by Laura, without doubt. He was a mess, his jaw was wrecked and his neck was broken, all injuries inflicted from a lower angle. That’s all the info I’ve got for you, you do with it whatever the hell you want.”

     Before Zoë can return an answer, Sam ends the call. It’s only now that he notices Dean opposite of him, his arms crossed in front of him. He nods, appreciating.      “No more Mr. Nice Guy. I like it,” he comments, then continues his way to the Impala.      Without responding to his notification, Sam follows and catches up with him, still angry with the ungrateful attitude of the huntress. He cannot believe he saved her at least an hour and a half and this is what he gets in return; so much for gratitude. 

     Together they walk over to the classic Chevrolet without speaking about it further. Yet Dean can’t help but  smile as he opens his door. Sam notices the grin and rolls his eyes.      “Just say it,” he mutters.      “Say what?”      “You know what.”      Dean looks at him over the top of the black Chevrolet and ponders, still deciding if he should say the words which he longs to say. He can’t help himself, he has to enjoy the moment and rub it in.      His smirk grows even wider. “Hate to say I told you so.”      “No, you don’t,” Sam sighs, sits down and closes the door.

     Dean does the same and turns the key, starting up the Impala’s V8 engine, which lets out an enthusiastic roar. People Are Strange by The Doors is playing on the radio while Sam stares through the windshield, still bummed about the call.      “Why doesn’t she just drop the act?” Sam wonders.      “I’m not sure if it’s an act, Sammy.” Dean checks in both directions before steering his precious car onto the road. “I sincerely think her soul is pitch black.”

     But Sam shakes his head, not buying it. “This can’t be her persona. You said it yourself; she was different when you first met her.”      “So? People change,” Dean simply declares, shrugging his shoulders.      “Maybe, but this is just stupid. We’re in town, bored out of our skull while she is working her ass off to finish up on time. It can’t be that hard to accept our help.”      “Apparently she’s socially disturbed, Sam. Let it go already. If she can’t appreciate a helping hand, she’s not worth the effort,” the older brother suggests, not wanting Sam to be bothered by the matter. “Let’s go to Texas and hunt some wolf, huh?”

     He considers the advice for a moment as they drive by Linwood Cemetery. As soon as he spots the place, he glances across the road at the Hampton Inn, but there is no sign of Zoë; she must be at the crime scene.      As they pass through, he decides he wants to stay. “No. We agreed to stay in town till tonight. Zoë will leave, case closed or not. It’s almost midday, so what difference will it make if we leave now or tonight?”      “Half a day,” Dean answers smartly.      “Denise? Or did you completely forget about the fact that you are meeting up with her later?”

     The driver of the black car raises his eyebrow at that, contemplating, because Sam is right; he did forget about his ‘date’ later today for just a second. Dean doesn’t like to admit it, but Denise is a very big plus to stay in town just a little while longer. A silence follows after Sam’s mention while his brother thinks through his options.

     “Point taken,” he gives in. “But I’ll tell you one thing. Zoë is not gonna come around.”      “She will, believe me. She’s not as bad to the bone as she pretends to be,” Sam states, sure of his words. After all, last night she was friendly for letting him crash in her room and transferring all that lore to his computer.      “I know her better than you do,” Dean weighs up.      “I don’t believe that's true,” Sam counters, shaking his head.      “Wanna bet?” Dean looks aside as the argument is starting to turn into a ‘do not, do too’ fight. “Burgers for a week.”      “I rarely eat burgers. How’s that gonna benefit me?” the younger sibling brings to mind.

     “Okay, well… If I win, you buy me burgers for a week. If you win, I won’t give you shit for ordering a salad in every fast food joint we eat at.” The green eyed hunter wiggles his eyebrows, his arrogant grin confident, spread wide on his lips.      “I’m not settling for that.” Sam huffs and shakes his head. “You can buy me whatever I order for the next seven days if I’m right.”      “Deal.”

     Before Dean can assure him that this is a bet he will win, his brother’s Blackberry rings. Surprised, he checks the screen for the number, his long chestnut hair falling in front of his eyes when he looks down, then he raises his eyebrows and smiles. Victoriously he shows the screen to Dean; it’s Zoë. Sam picks up his phone and puts her on speaker.      “What?” he snaps, still mad at her.      “What are you up to?”      The youngest of the Winchesters isn’t sure if she’s asking him if he’s still intending to mess with her case or that she’s asking if he has some spare time.      “Depends,” he answers, curt.      “You said Shire broke his neck, so did Van Dyke.”      “So?”      “Might be something.”

     Sam keeps his mouth shut, warning Dean to do the same with only a look and a slight shake of the head. An unpleasant silence follows. Obviously, it irritates Zoë.      “C'mon, Sam. Knock it off!”      “No, Zoë! We’re helping you out and this is what we get?” Sam returns.      “You two nosey dickwads went behind my back! How can you expect me to be--”

     They can hear her sigh and swallow down the rest of the sentence as she collects herself, trying to keep her temper in check.      “I don’t like working with others and I certainly don’t want to abandon this case. I’ve never passed up a job, it’s not my style. But if I don't finish up by tonight, I don't have another option.”

     “I get that, but wouldn’t it be better if we just work together now and make sure that you’ll make your deadline?” Sam suggests, calmer than a moment ago, now that the woman on the other end of the line has done the same.      “Look, Zo,” Dean interrupts, adding his two cents. “I know you’re not particularly happy about teaming up - and hey, neither am I - but you’ll be able to cover more ground that way. You can’t expect us to leave town knowing you might have to face a dilemma. The sooner you close this case, the sooner we can go our separate ways.”      “I don’t know...”      Again a sigh while Zoë considers her next move. Sam allows the silence, granting her the time to think it through. The way he sees it, she doesn't have much of a choice. The Winchesters are the best option she’s got.      “Okay, fine,” she eventually gives in. “But this is still my case. I call the shots and might we stumble on trouble, we stick to the plan. I can’t settle for anything less.”      Dean has already opened his mouth to object, but Sam elbows him hard, shooting him a warning glare.      “Agreed,” the youngest quickly answers, ignoring the quiet muttering from his left.      “Dean?”

     The older Winchester brother grinds his teeth. Shit, he does not want to bow down to her, because he knows the second he does, she will without a doubt step up to become Evil Queen Bitch. He’s never going to live it down. One case, he tells himself. One fucking case and he will never have to deal with her again.      “Fine,” he utters, barely audible.      “One other thing. I need to leave town tonight, case finished or not. We have to try or take care of this today, okay?”      “We will,” Sam assures. “And if we run into trouble and can’t manage to wrap up, you don’t have to worry about this case. We’ll make sure to have it covered and that Laura will be put to rest.”      “So, do we meet up or what?”      “Yeah, sure.”      “Where are you at?”

     Before Sam answers he checks the name of the road they are on.      “W. Kings Highway, going west. We’re staying at the Ramada Inn,” Sam tells her.      “Shit motel.”      He scoffs a chuckle, glad the tension has lifted. “Tell me ‘bout it.”      “I'll see you at In-N-Out,” the huntress decides. “I want an Animal Burger.”      “Have you had that 4x4 burger?” Dean says, his mouth watering. “The amount of meat, hmm.”      “Are you kidding me? I grew up in California; In-N-Out is my jam!”      “Their food is fuckin’ amazing, ain’t it?” Dean agrees.      “Oh my God, yes! How they grill their cheese—”

     Stunned, Sam stares from the phone to Dean and back. Did the unthinkable just happen? Did Zoë and Dean actually agree on something? Remarkable, but truly, here is the one subject they can’t fight about; food.      “Zo?” he interrupts.      “Yeah?”      “See you at In-N-Out.” He chuckles and hangs up.

     The Ramada Inn shows up in front of them and Dean pulls up into the parking lot, turning off the ignition once he has found a spot close to the entrance. Before he gets out of the car, he registers Sam, who’s wearing a boyish grin on his face. His eyes sparkle through the curtain of his bangs, his pearl white teeth on display; it’s clear he’s very much amused.      “Hate to say I told you so,” Sam nags victoriously, and pushes the passenger door open.

     With a confused expression upon his face, Dean gets out of his car himself. He then glares at younger Winchester over the top of the Impala, the words sinking in. Fuck, he lost a bet; Zoë came around.      “No, you don’t,” he mutters, following his sibling inside. Looks like he’s going to have to live through the embarrassment of ordering and paying for salads the coming week. Oh well, at least he doesn’t have to eat them.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).   

Read part eight here