#at this point random pictures of this mans body is the only way i can track days

[sincerelyneo]

omg hello! i missed you so much!!! 💖 would you consider reposting arcade again?? it was legit the best thing i’ve ever read omg i was so sad when i couldnt find it anymore

its fine if you cant tho!! im glad youre backkkk💖💖💖

ofc i can, i’m glad you liked it <3

arcade | p.js

“i’m out of control, full power up”

💿now playing: arcade by nct dream

❯ summary: Jisung’s been nothing but busy lately, so when you hear he got the weekend of your anniversary off, you can’t help but plan something to spend time with him. Expect, the only thing jisung wants after his busy month is you — and he’s not gonna let your silly arcade date get in the way of that.

❯ pairings: jisung x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, smut, fluffish.

❯ words: 3.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, fingering, exhibitionism, reader uses she/her pronouns, use of the name baby, jisung takes pictures whilst fingering reader in a photobooth idk???

"You brought us to an arcade for our three year anniversary?"

You look over to Jisung standing by your side as the pair of you stood in front of the arcade entryway with the giant neon sign above your heads.

"Yeah, surprise - who doesn't love a date night with pizza and an arcade?" You grin, trying to hide the look of nervousness fighting to show once you notice his frown.

“Baby,” he groans, whiny, “I thought we were gonna go home after the pizza.”

You may have lied to him about that.

When you told Jisung about tonight’s date, he originally objected. He wanted to have a chilled night in with just the two of you — alone. Something he hadn’t had for the past four weeks he’d been strung up at work. Yet, you insisted that the two of you celebrated your three year anniversary just like you had done for your first and second.

So instead, the two of you came up with a compromise: head to your favourite pizza place, then come home and watch a movie snuggled together on the couch. In Jisung’s mind ‘watch a movie’ was code for letting his hands roam all over your body whilst he watched you whither and squirm, but he figured it was best to not discuss the minute details.

But don’t get him wrong. Just because he wanted to have a quiet night in didn't mean he hasn’t missed you — because oh he has. He’s only bothered the rest of the dreamies with his annual ‘I miss her’ speech every other hour.

And whilst typically Jisung loved to spend every passing minute of the day with you; right now, all he could think about was how much he wanted to be balls deep in the cunt he’d missed so much — not spending his time in some arcade.

"I haven't been inside one of these since I was a little kid," you tell him. “Please Sungie, just for an hour.” You begin tugging on his hands.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Aren’t we a bit too old to be playing in the arcade?” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Pretty please!”

You hope the small flutter in your eyelashes is enough to win over the hesitant man. And you know it will because he’s told you several times not to give him those signature doe eyes, because he can’t ever bring himself to say no to them.

"Fine."

He grasps your hand, threading your fingers together as he starts to lead the two of you inside. You're instantly greeted with the loud electronic sound effects from the various games, along with the random music playing inside.

There's lights flashing everywhere, and you notice a bunch of people sitting at the bar and in booths near the front of the arcade, along with a bunch wandering around all of the games.

Jisung looks sideways before gesturing his head to the row of retro games, "what do you wanna play?" He asks.

“You can pick first, because I’m such a good girlfriend.”

He can’t help but smile at you — because he knows you're right.

“How about we play some pinball?

"I take it back," you say with a pointed look, "I’ve seen you play that with Chenle and I’m definitely gonna lose.”

“Too late, you’ve already given me the power,” he shrugs and pulls your arm over to where the game is situated.

“Ugh, Jisung. There’s no point, I already know I’m gonna lose,” you try to protest.

“Stop complaining,” he grasps your hips to turn you around to face the pinball machine then comes to stand behind you.

He takes your hands and places them on the buttons either side of the machine in front of you. You feel your cheeks flush when you feel Jisung’s chin rest on your shoulder, as he guides your fingers over the controls and silently coaches you through the game.

You don’t know how he always does it but even here, he's managing to create some form of sexual tension between the two of you at a pinball machine.

“Jisung..” you whisper as he places teasing kisses along your neck.

“Shhh, I’m just trying to help you out,” his lips brush against your neck as he continues hitting the buttons at a constant steady speed. “Besides, I think I’ve found my new favourite way to play pinball tonight."

Eventually, the ball shoots straight down between the two flippers, drawing the game to an end. He’d been doing so well that you wanted to turn around and kiss him but he pressed you harder against the machine, dipping into the crook of your neck to tease your ear.

"You've got no idea how badly I wish I could bend you over this and fuck you right here, right now."

It sent shivers down your whole body as you felt him grin against your skin when he noticed the sharp inhale of air you sucked in at his words.

Jisung knows you're shy, so he’s not surprised that you try to snake away from his grip at his crude remark.

"Look, we got a new high score," he says while he slips his hands from over yours and slides them up your arms. Pretending he didn't just whisper something that dirty. “We make a pretty good team.”

“Yeah ‘cause you did all the work,” you sulk.

You see the red digital writing flashing on the scoreboard, then his arms snake around to link across your lower stomach and pull you firmer against him. To anyone watching you look like a typical couple being affectionate, but the tension makes it feel the furthest thing from innocent.

"You know exactly what you're doing right now, Jisung Park," you huff, trying to control how flustered you feel, "We’re here to play games."

He presses a kiss to your cheek, before murmuring, "I am playing games. And so far I think I'm winning."

As he speaks he lets one of his hands slip down to graze over the front of your crotch, which he swears is an accident when you sternly say his name. But you can’t deny the way the touch made you jolt before he pulls away and steps back. You’d missed his touch — missed being with him like this.

But this was not the place. So you take his hand and turn the two of you to walk off like nothing happened.

The two of you continued to play a handful of arcade games. The classics, retro games, new games — Jisung had even managed to secure you a fluffy teddy bear from the claw game after you mentioned it being ‘impossible’.

You’d been taking it in turns to choose a game each, but when you mentioned the arcade photo booth, your boyfriend had started to get apprehensive.

After some of your amazing buttering up skills with puppy dog eyes, he agreed and he pulled the curtain back for you to get inside, then closes the door on the booth.

He sat down first on the small seat, and when you went to sit next to him he grabbed your waist and pulled you down onto his lap instead. He takes some coins from his pocket and starts putting them in the slot.

You try to get off his lap to sit beside him before the timer starts but he doesn’t let you.

“Just look at the camera and smile."

Once you hear the timer counting down the two of you start posing. But just before the last beep sounds, you get the idea to grab hold of Jisung’s face and let your lips mush against his cheek causing him to scrunch his nose up.

"That’s not fair," he says the second he hears the beeping start again.You stick your tongue out at him and his eyes narrow. “Fine, if that’s the game we’re playing.”

You both look back at the camera and offer smiles, kisses and peace signs. But at the last beep, Jisung gets the idea to move both of his hands to cup over your chest, groping your boobs.

Your mouth falls open as you gasp in shock while Jisung starts laughing.

You try to pull his hands away, "Okay fine, point taken mister grabby hands."

Jisung is practically giggling to himself, whilst you wait for the timer to start again.

“Alright alright, we'll take a serious one now.” He says, placing his chin on your shoulder, as you both look at the camera.

But once again, as the third beeping starts he quickly says, “Do you think people would notice if I made you cum while we're in here?"

Your body stiffens in shock as the picture is taken. Jisung is bursting with laughter and you're taken aback.

Jisung likes sex. He loves sex in fact — especially with you. But he never does this. Sure he teases you when you're out and about — how could he not when you’re so beautiful and perfect for him. But he’s never insinuated doing something so sexual in public like this before.

But here the two of you are. Waiting for the timer to start again, but this time you’re anticipating the shit he was going to pull when the final beep comes — and he does not disappoint. Because his hands slide up your legs, dipping into your inner thighs and squeezing them.

"Jisung," you warn him, "behave yourself."

The beeping starts again, but Jisung doesn't move his hands, and starts to massage his fingers higher.

When the last tick happens, he moves his face to press a kiss to your jaw, and you feel his breath hitting your skin from his nose.

He starts to inch your legs a bit further apart to let his thumbs graze over the crease where your thighs meet your pelvis.

“Ive missed you so fucking much baby,” he whines. “I need you so bad.”

“Jisung not here,” you sigh as his hands start working to warm up your skin.

“Why not? Wouldn’t you like the thought of me getting you off in here? Trying not to get caught?"

If his face wasn't so close to yours you wouldn't be able to hear him over the loud music in the arcade and how low his voice has gotten.

You give him a confused frown, thinking he surely can't be fucking serious but when you do he takes the opportunity to press his lips against you, kissing you while the camera snaps the last picture.

Your stomach is knotting along with your heart beating faster and you feel that familiar heat between your legs but you’d never tell him that — and he’d never tell you that he knows you keep it from him.

"Would you?" He asks again when he breaks the kiss.

You look at him like he's lost his mind. "You're joking right?" You can't be serious - Jisung people get their pictures taken in here, someone could walk in, you can't-"

He makes your words stop and your breath hitch in your throat as he moves his hand up under your skirt and cups his hand between your legs.

"That's not what I asked you," he says letting his eyes trace over your face, then leans closer, "Would you enjoy it?"

“Jisung, this is so unlike you, are you even hearing what you’re asking me?”

He moves his leg a bit and wedges his heel against the edge of the door so it can't be pulled open, "I know exactly what I’m asking you, so answer me."

"We’re supposed to be taking pictures, Sung,” you try changing the subject, and ignore the pressure of his hand pressed against you.

"Oh god we will," he says like it should be obvious.

And now you’re looking even more caught off guard.

“I'd fucking kill to have some pictures of you getting off. Have them to look at them whenever I’m needy and miss you.”

Jisung starts to massage the heel of his palm very slowly against you, adding more pressure over your underwear as you try to squeeze your legs closed but he holds them with his other hand to keep them apart.

"We can't-" it takes very fibre in your body to attempt to protest this, but you easily allow him to cut you off.

"Yes we fucking can," he has that sly look on his face, "But if you don't want to, we won't. It's up to you. Should I stop?"

You exhale a weak breath as he replaces the heel of his palm with his fingers dancing over your underwear, massaging slow circles that make your hips shift.

"Won’t people think it's weird if we're in here too long." you fumble over your words which makes Jisung smile while he bites on his lip.

"Don't worry I'll be quick," he says knowing you’re only making excuses instead of admitting what you really want.

Your eyes drift closed as you sigh, feeling his fingers move against you to create a friction that's only making the throb between your legs worsen. You have absolutely no common sense when it comes to this man and his fucking fingers.

"Should I stop?" He repeats in a low voice, moving his mouth to start to kiss along your jaw.

As usual with him, your functioning brain checks out while your subconscious takes over and you shake your head feeling your breathing start to go shallow.

"You want me to make you cum, yeah? Is that right baby?" His words are slightly muffled as he moves his free hand from your inner thigh and brushes your hair back over your shoulder so he can move his mouth to your neck, "I need words baby."

You should be rational and tell him to stop. But you don't. You wouldn’t dare. You didn’t want him to. So instead you say what you do want, and breathe out a quiet "yes."

Jisung’s own breathing is getting heavier, and the tension in this small enclosed space feels like it's compressing both of you closer together. When he hears your approval, his hand between your legs bunches up the front of your skirt. When he slips it up he snakes his hand over your stomach to push down into your underwear.

A faint groan echoes in Jisung’s throat the second his fingers feel your bare skin, exploring around your underwear to feel the slickness there.

"You’ve made a mess. Missed me this much, huh?” his voice is low, while he drags his warm lips up your neck.

You only manage to nod your head, your brain focused on squirming your hips to find some kind of friction again. He finally rests the pads of his fingers against your throbbing clit, starting to tease circles that force a quiet whimper out of you. Your eyes are still closed as excitement and neediness flood your nerves.

For doing something that should be wrong, it feels so damn right, and it's all you can think of. Feeling him is all you can think about.

"You sure I can take some pictures?" He checks, keeping his movements steady as your hips start to circle against his hand,

You don't respond at first—you can’t—too caught up in how this is feeling, and when he dips his fingers down to your pussy to collect more arousal on his fingers before moving back to your clit and applying more pressure, your head falls forward as you pant out a strained, "You - fuck, yes, you can."

He chuckles hearing how fucked out you are for him, and he’s only just started. But it’s when you hold onto the thigh he’s been using to pry your legs open that his eyes darken with need.

He keeps his fingers moving while he manages to get some coins he had in his pocket, reaching forward to put them into the coin slot, then pressing the button to start the timer.

When he relaxes back he applies a firmer pressure, and starts to massage your clit in quicker circles; making your mouth drop open with a gasped moan. You can barely hear the beep for the picture anymore, everything around you turning blurry, and all you can hear is your heart beat mixed your heavy breathing.

"That's it baby," he coos, with a gravel to his voice from the tension in it, "God I wish I could fuck you right now. I’ve been dying for it.”

Your skin is burning up, and all you can manage in response is the pants from your open mouth, desperately trying to keep yourself quiet.

You start to grind yourself against him as his fingers work, and feel the hard bulge forming in his pants underneath your ass.

He wasn't kidding when he said he'd be quick, he's already building the pressure in your lower belly, making your stomach muscles tighten, while he moves his fingers in the exact way he knows you love it.

That knot in your lower half tightens, and your legs start to tremble as a louder moan you can't stop comes out of your mouth.

"Fuck—Jisung," you whimper, with your chest starting to heave with rapid uneven breaths.

He only quickens his fingers driving with determination and speed, making sure to keep repeating the same movements that are getting the best reactions from you and when your head falls back as you moan again; his free hand comes up to cover your mouth.

"Shhhh—quiet, remember?" He hushes against your ear, groaning at the feeling of you grinding against him, "I know you wanna cum baby, but there’s no way I’m letting anyone else hear how you sound for me.”

All you can manage is a muffled "mhm" against his hand as your eyes squeeze tighter. That familiar sensation starts to ripple from your centre down your legs and into the rest of your limbs.

The orgasm is speeding towards you, faster than anticipated causing your back to arch up as your hips writhe. Your mind is foggy only able to make out quiet whispers of encouragement coming from Jisung.

As the release ripples through your body and your moans are muted against his hand, Jisung groans again, feeling you shake on top of him. He can’t help but snap his hand away to grasp at your jaw to turn your face and kiss you hard while you ride through your climax.

The kiss is mostly open lips grazing against each other, or trying to connect in messy motions with both of your laboured breathing mixing together. His fingers only pause when you try to pull yourself away from them.

Once your eyes drift open to see Jisung’s, the look in them makes you want to squeeze your legs together again if you could move them currently.

Jisung brings his hand up, and grazes his pointer and middle finger he just used to send your body into a frenzy against your lower lip as a silent request for you to open your mouth. You don’t deny it, taking them into your mouth to taste yourself.

“Fucking hell,” his eyes dart back and forth from your eyes to your mouth. His head rolls back against the wall behind you and he whines in the quiet, "God fucking help me."

Your body is still buzzing, floating down dazed from the high it was on, and you watch Jisung bite down on his lower lip as his brows knit tight together, as his hips shift beneath you.

"Everything okay, Sungie?" It’s the only thing your mushed brain can think of saying as you look down at his strained pants.

"Fuck no," he mumbles, looking like he's trying to compose himself, "But it’s my own fault. I suggested we do this. I’ll deal with myself later.”

"Later?" You ask.

Jisung lifts his head back up, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek as he rubs his palm up and down your thigh, "Yeah, later. When we get home and we watch that movie you promised me.”

He thinks you don’t know that he uses the movie thing as a code to fuck you — but you do know — and that’s why you’ve never protested when he puts on another one of those Harry Potter movies he loves.

"You sure you'll be able to wait that long?"

Jisung’s lips lift up at the corners, "I’ve waited weeks for this, I’m sure I can manage a couple more hours.”

He hugs you against him with his arms around your stomach, and back against his firm chest.

"But then again,” he begins “Now I have the memory of how fucking hot watching you get off in here was. That makes waiting like some kind of sick torture to me."

You let out a weak laugh, feeling your cheeks flush more than they already were, "I still can't believe we just did this."

"I can, and there's pictures to prove it," he smiles, pulling the strip of three black and white photos from the dispenser.

[ellsarchive]

Ken Sato HC’s (extremely random) *.• (sfw)

Writing this instead of part two of starcrossed 😭

Calls you “doll.” It started off sarcastic, like when he was teasing you or something of the sort. It soon became an unironic part of his vocabulary, now a common name between you two.

Speaking of pet names, also calls you “baby.”

PDA guy, but lowkey. Like an arm around you or a hand on your lower back, subtle claims and displays to show you off.

(Someone else said this and it was too true not to repeat) He bites. Whether that means nibbling your skin playfully or sinking his teeth into you is up to your interpretation.

Sometimes he leans down to hear you better, to kiss you, etc. and his dog tags hang in your face.

Refers to you as “my girl” in interviews and when telling people about you

Takes a long time for him to feel like he can show emotion around you. It took countless reassurances and a lot of love, but strangely enough, he finds comfort in knowing you’ve seen that side of him. You saw it and still stayed.

The type to dance with you in the living room to disgustingly sappy music (even when your laughter is much louder than the song)

Listener.

Unless he has something important, you will never catch this man in something other than sweats or his baseball uniform.

Knows he’s attractive, but doesn’t try too hard to seem so. He knows certain things he does are attractive and he does them, but doesn’t try to make them attractive, you know?

The cocky act isn’t ENTIRELY a front. Of course it’s mostly a show for the fans, but he’s a sarcastic man at heart.

No minute goes by that he doesn’t have a snarky comment

Except for when he’s with you.

He’s nicer when he’s with you.

Low spice tolerance (America did its number on him)

Likes to watch projections of his old life with you, pointing out little details and meanings behind things that couldn’t be seen. He loves teaching you about who he was before you.

So clingy when he’s tired. If you try to get out of bed it feels like you have chains holding you in your place. His determination is almost terrifying. Also much less sarcastic, his most sincere words have been spoken when he’s half asleep.

Speaking of which, the first time he told you he loved you was when you were cuddled up, falling asleep. He let it slip without realizing, his eyes shutting the moment he said it. His last memory of that night is your faint voice saying “I love you” as his dreams took over.

Will DESTROY a carton of milk in the middle of the night if he’s thirsty (he usually only uses it for cereal)

Likes to binge TV shows with you when he gets the chance. What’s a better way to spend a rainy day than to be lazy and escape from this world with the person he loves most?

Had a dog growing up

Nothing is safe from the heinous amounts of soy sauce he puts on his food. One bite would kill a Victorian child

Was actually really nervous about being in a committed relationship. Luckily, you being his saviour, helped him every step of the way. He’s changed so many ways since meeting you, one of them being the absence of the walls he had built.

Puts a hand on the back of your neck when he hugs you

Car guy (as hinted by his collection of cars in the movie)

Sometimes falls asleep on your chest, body in between your legs, and wakes up having no idea where he is.

Wishes he had more pictures of you, but always forgets to take them.

Always wins his games when you come to them. Seeing you in the stands is the highlight of the game, not the win.

MEAN side eye. Could kill a man with ts

Is 100% sure that he’ll never love another the way he loves you. He’s certain.

Thinks of you when he sees corny romance movies

Was genuinely surprised when you first told him you loved him (when he was awake this time). When he realized how real it all was, he was confused. He didn’t know someone could see all the bad parts of him and still really, really love him.

Once he got over the doubt, he was proud.

Felt pathetic when he first realized how much he loved you. The way he couldn’t get you out of his head was unfamiliar, and your effect on him was so much more than anyone else has had. It frustrated him to no end.

Loves trying new food places with you

Sometimes jumps a little when he sees you out of the corner of his eye, someone else in his house so often still new to him.

Doesn’t cry easily

Cried while watching titanic with his mom when he was little

[basementloser]

I would've loved an episode in which Danny and Dash switch bodies.

I imagine it happens because Dash is talking to Kwan about how cool Phantom is or something, and at some point he says "Man, I wish I was Danny Phantom!"

Of course Desiree hears this, she appears before him ("So you have wished it, so shall it be!"), and the next day Dash wakes up in Danny's body. Danny Fenton's body. In Danny's room.

At this point he's pretty familiar with Desiree, and he assumes she just heard him wrong, befause Fenton and Phantom do sound alike. ("Huh, how weird! How has no one noticed this before?" We hear Wes screaming in the distance as Dash makes this observation.)

But there is no way in hell that a puny little nerd like Fenton could be Dash's hero, so something must've gone wrong. He decides to find Desiree and correct his wish.

-

Meanwhile, Danny (to his horror) wakes up in Dash's body.

He assumes he overshadowed him for some reason, but when he tries to leave, he finds out he doesn't have his powers. He also doesn't feel Dash's presence in the body.

"I know i asked for a growth spurt, but not like this!"

This isn't good.

-

Dash makes his way downstairs, and is immediately greeted by Jack Fenton, who has a million chores for him.

"Come on, Danno! Those ghosts I fished out of the ghost zone with the Fenton Ghost Fisher™️ aren't gonna put themselves back!"

Before he can object he is pushed into the lab and has to fight a couple of ectopusses. This goes very badly at first, until Dash remembers the bit of ghost hunting training Danny gave him and his classmates, when they had to rescue their parents from that big pirate ship.

As soon as he's done, exhausted on the floor (Damn, Fenton really needs to work out more!), he hears Jack yelling down the stairs.

"Son, don't forget to change the ecto filtrator! You don't want Amity Park to blow up, do ya?"

More dangerous chores keep getting added for longer than Dash thought was humanly possible.

(At some point Jack gave him some fudge, which helped.)

How does Fenton live like this???

-

We switch back over to Danny, who is now looking around Dash's room. He already knew about the cute pink teddy bear collection, but he didn't expect to find what can only be described as a fan shrine to Phantom.

There are newspaper articles, pictures, merch ("Wait I have merch? How come i didn't know that? Who is selling Phantom merch?" it's Tucker), and a poster.

(the b-story of this episode is Sam & Tucker running a Phantom merch line, and trying to stop the Box Ghost from stealing all the boxes of merch.)

Danny keeps looking around Dash's room, and finding out more about him through his stuff.

At some point he finds Dash's diary. He contemplates if he should read it or not, but in the end he decides that since Dash is always such a jerk to him, he doesn't care about morals and reads it.

Reading the diary, Danny starts to feel kinda bad, because in the entries Dash actually seems human. He's insecure, and he actually struggles with a lot. He's afraid to talk about what he's going through.

His parents are very absent, and the A-listers kicked Valerie out when her life wasn't perfect anymore. He doesn't want that to happen to him.

(I personally headcanon Dash as an extremely closeted gay guy with a lot of internalised homophobia, who hasn't stopped trying to convince himself that he's straight, but his struggles could be about anything.)

After reading all that, Danny starts to feel kinda bad for him.

-

Over the course of the day ghosts keep showing up to fight or talk to Fenton, and Dash is incredibly confused by this. Also Danny must have a weird cold or something, because he's been exhaling cold air at random all day.

"I AM THE BOX GHO- Hey! Wait! Why are you running away? You never run away. You always trap me in your cylindrical contraption of doOoOoOm!" (The Box Ghost is wearing a Phantom t-shirt, and is holding a box full of other Phantom merch. After Dash runs away, Sam and Tucker appear, chasing the Box Ghost through the street, trying to get the merch back.)

Later Johnny 13 shows up to fight, because he and Kitty broke up for the 4th time this week, and he wants to let out some steam. "Shouldn't you change for our fight, kid?" Change into what? Wait he wanted to fight, right? Dash puts on his gym uniform, and boxing gloves. Johnny looks at him weird, but doesn't question it. They have a little boxing match in the backyard.

Youngblood came by to play astronauts with him, and was very disappointed that Danny didn't fly up to space with him. (Wait didn't that dead kid kidnap Dash's parents??! Also why in the hell does he think Fenton has the ability to fly?????!! And breathe(!) in space?!!!)

After finishing what seems like a billion ghost related chores (and dealing with way too many ghosts), Dash finally manages to get out of the Fenton house, and starts to look for Desiree.

-

Danny walks out of Dash's room, and runs into Dash's dad. He opens his mouth, but he doesn't seem to care about what he's going to say. "Son I am so incredibly disappointed in you." the dad starts, then continues to list all the reasons he is a huge disappointment who should try harder. "Those weird little bears in your closet!" and "Why don't you have a girlfriend yet?"

The whole interaction is horrible, and makes Danny appreciate his own parents (weird as they may be) so much.

Dash's mom also berates him about being a disappointment, because they found his Phantom collection ("He is a GHOST, Dash! He's dangerous!"), and because his grades are so low. ("What do you mean tutor? Just study harder!")

They threaten to take Pookie away if he doesn't get his shit together.

-

At some point Danny has deduced that this body situation must be some ghost bullshit, and he decides to go to Fentonworks.

Then he runs into Dash in his body, and they have a little spiderman moment

After the internal shock and "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY BODY GET OUT!"s have gone around, Dash tells Danny what happened.

Danny informs Dash that most of Desiree's wishes become permanent after 24 hours. They decide to team up to get Desiree to undo this wish before that happens.

It's noted that Dash didn't say the word "puny" or any other insult, when he says "I really don't wanna stay in your body.".

We see a compilation of Danny and Dash searching Amity Park for Desiree, and other wishes she has granted. They fight off a couple of small ghost things together.

(during this compilation we see Sam and Tucker chasing the Box Ghost around. "How is he this hard to catch?? We've done this millions of times already!!!" -"Well maybe if you didn't drop the fucking thermos!")

After the fight, Dash sighs and says "Man, I had no idea how difficult your life is, Fenton. I've only been living it a day and it sucks."

they have a little heart to heart, and Dash sincerely apologises for bullying Danny so much.

"why did you want to be Phantom anyway? I assume his life isn't that easy either." Danny says.

"I dunno, man. I just thought it would be cool to be, y'know, going ghost."

White rings appear around Dash. He turns into Phantom.

they have another moment like this:

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

"I"M- I- YOU- YOU'RE PHANTOM??!!!"

"NO! YES! NO TIME! FIGHT HER!!!"

Because of course, this is the moment that Desiree appears, and starts fighting them.

"I dont know how!!!"

The beginning of the fight is very awkward, with Dash not knowing how Danny's powers work, and Danny not being used to fighting Desiree without his powers.

Eventually they get the hang of it, with Danny telling Dash how to activate and use certain powers in the moment, and they defeat Desiree.

All the wishes get undone, and they suck her up into a thermos.

After that, they talk about Danny being Phantom. Danny tells Dash the story of how he died got his powers, and Dash shares some of his secrets with Danny so they're "even". (it's some stuff that wasn't in Dash's diary. Danny doesn't mention that he read that, but that can be conflict in a later episode)

They aren't friends yet, but it's a start. Now that he walked a mile in Danny's shoes, Dash feels so bad about bullying him all those years, and he starts to question his life choices. (start of a Dash redemption arc i guess). He promises to stop bullying in general, and help out Danny however he can. (He also promises to not tell anyone about Danny's secret identity.)

(The episode ends with Sam and Tucker, having finally caught the Box Ghost, only to realise that in the chase/fight all the merch got way too messed up to sell, so it was all for nothing. Tucker throws the thermos down in frustration, the Box Ghost gets free, grabs the Phantom shirt he wore earlier, yells "BEWARE!" and flies off. Sam sighs and gets ready to start chasing him again, but Tucker stops her. "I give up. Let him have the fucking shirt.")

[b3ach-bunn7]

FORWARDS BECKON REBOUND

You find Dabi bleeding out on your front porch. Despite recognising his face from the five o'clock news, you take him in.

angst, villain dabi, quirkless reader, Dabi POV

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

He should’ve killed you the minute he’d woken up. 

Left your house burning blue with you inside of it, before you even had a chance to run. But it had been Dabi who’d passed out outside your house, and it had been you who lugged him inside, lanky bones and all, so he felt some obligation not to do it. He was barely conscious, just awake enough to hear you mumbling curses under your breath as you scrounged through your cupboards for a first aid kit. 

It wasn’t a nice way to go, bleeding out on a random street. It was embarrassing, the famed cremation villain dying to a knife wound that hit a little too deep. He’d killed the man who’d stabbed him, of course, but that fact that he would kill Dabi was what had him praying to a God he didn’t believe in that he’d live. Maybe it was a fitting death. A person like him, bleeding out with the dirt of a flower bed slipping down his shirt, only the sounds of the night echoing in his ears. 

And then you appeared.

Wearing scrubs that fit too loosely over your body, a puffer jacket and a scarf covering the lower half of your face. He had enough energy to wonder why someone like you, someone that looked down at him with so much worry etched on your face, was in a neighbourhood like this, one where people like him lurked. You dropped your bags, abandoned the scarf and the coat and dropped to your knees. He’d watched your scrubs soak with blood as your hands hesitated in front of him.

“God. Fuck. What do I- Fuck.”  You grabbed your scarf and wrapped it tightly around his chest and then you slipped your arms under his, groaning at his dead weight. 

“This is my good deed for the day.” You huffed, starting the slow drag towards your home.

And he’d passed out after that, he thinks. Everything is very jumbled up but he supposed that’s what happens when you’re bleeding to death.

And when he woke up he thought he might be in heaven. A heaven that was very cluttered and full of way too many pictures hung up on the walls. His head was killing him, and his chest fucking hurt.  He was sprawled on a couch too small for him and his legs were touching the floor. He tries to rise and he stops, immediately, cursing at the shot of pain that spreads through his body.

“Oh no, don’t get up! The stitches will pull.” 

He turned his head to the source of the voice and it's you.

On your knees, scrubbing at the blood stains on your floor. The sleeves of your hoodie were pulled up past your forearms and you were wearing shorts that rode up your thighs. He would’ve made an inappropriate comment about the sight of your legs but he has no idea who the fuck you are.

“I- I’m a nurse so don’t worry, the stitches are done right. That’s for you, too. You should drink it, you lost a lot of blood.” You laughed nervously, pointing at the coffee table.

There was a juice box waiting for him. He didn’t grab it though. Just kept staring at you, silent.

“Uh. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You hand twitched like you’re about to offer it to him, but you decided against it.

There’s no way you don’t know who he is. Dabi’s face has been plastered on the news more times than he can remember, and his face isn’t one you can forget. He watches you now, your eyes flitting from his face to his chest. You sit back on your knees, rubbing at your face with your clean hand.

“I- I can make you some food. If you think you can stomach it.” 

What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t you know what he could do to you? How quickly he could kill you?

He moved to stand again and you got up that time, moving towards him. “Look, seriously, you can’t move. The stitches will open and I can’t deal with any more blood today.” You said.

Dabi cursed. You flinch at the deep gravel of his voice.

“I know you probably think I’m crazy. I just- You can stay, until you can move again. It’s fine. I just don’t want you dying in my house, please. Or on my driveway.” You breathed out, taking another step back.

Dabi looked at you again. You looked like he could take you out now, stitches and all. He’s sure if you were going to call the police, you’d have done it by now. And he can’t remember the last time somebody actually doted on him. So he made the incredibly stupid move of listening to you. 

He reached forward and snatched up the juice. He popped it open with his thumb, downing it in one go, squeezing the carton to get it all out. Dabi threw the empty carton on the floor when he was finished. He leant his head back on the couch, and drifted off quickly into sleep.

The first few days are spent in and out of consciousness. The times he is awake, he doesn’t speak to you, not unless he has to. When you ask him what size clothes he wears, when you ask if he has any allergies. It doesn’t stop you from talking though. It’s all you do, whether to a friend on the phone or just to yourself. 

The couch has become the place he spends most of the days. He doesn't move unless it’s for the toilet or to let you change his bandages. The one time he’d actually gotten up for longer than five minutes was so you could clean the couch, silently mourning the fact you’d have to get a new one once he was gone. His blood still stains your carpet though, faint but there, and he feels something he can’t describe at the fact a part of him will always exist between your walls.

The first time he does speak to you, he doesn’t even mean to.

“God, the lady at the pharmacy definitely thinks I’m a serial killer. I'm there for bandages and painkillers like, four times a week.” 

You sigh and drop the shopping bags on the floor. You’re in your scrubs again, blue this time, as opposed to the green ones he’d stained with his blood. You run to the kitchen to grab a wet cloth and the antiseptic, and Dabi sits up gingerly on the couch.

He isn’t exactly healed, but you’d assured him once he could be conscious for longer than an hour that the cut wasn’t as deep as it seemed. It still hurt like a bitch, though, and his stitches still stung as he pushed himself up. YYou kneel in front of him, carefully unwrapping the bandages around his chest. You keep your distance, just close enough so that you can reach him. The bandages stick to his skin and you make quick work of cleaning it, dabbing it with antiseptic. 

Dabi notices that you won’t ever look him in the eyes. Always darting around his face but never at him. You always linger on the scarred skin around his body, the staples hastily holding them together. You’re looking at them now, absentmindedly as you search through the bags for the bandages.

“My skin gross you out, lady?”

Your eyes do look up at him then, and Dabi feels like he should definitely talk to you more if you’re going to look at him like that. You laugh nervously and he tilts his head, blue eyes boring into yours.

“No, I just. Ha, no, I just haven't seen anything like it. The staples-” 

Your hand touches one gingerly and before you can move it away he grabs it with his own. He lets his hand heat up, not enough to hurt you but enough to let that lick of fear inch up your face, and he grins. Your hand is soft against the calloused, scarred skin of his, and he rubs his thumb up and down the back of it, watching the shiver you try and hide from him.

“Did I say you could touch?” He raises his eyebrows and you snatch your hand back. You turn away, inching just that little bit away from him.

“You didn’t complain about my touching when I dragged you from off my front porch.” You mumble under your breath.

His grin widens at that. “You got a mouth on you. But it’s okay, you can touch me anywhere you want, baby.”

Oh, that look. You were cute, he’d admit. He loved those shorts you were always wearing. Made your ass look amazing.

Your cheeks turn a delicious red. “I- Shut up. Let me finish.”

“Yeah, I’ll let you finish.”

“My god. Are you twelve?” You huff, placing the dressing over the stitches.

Dabi just watches you. He enjoys the way you squirm under his gaze. “You’re brave, sweetheart. You know who you’re talking to?”

You don't respond for a few seconds. “Of course. I’m not stupid.”

“Really? I’d say housing a villain in your house is pretty stupid.”

You say nothing, just gesture for him to sit up from the couch, where he was leaning against it. Like this, him sitting up and you still kneeling in front of the couch, he towers over you. It’s a compromising position, you fit in between his spread legs. Dabi can imagine you like this in another situation, maybe without the bandages and without that shirt you’ve got on.

You wrap the bandages around his chest silently. You finish, pinning it down so it doesn't come loose. You look back up at him. “It’s nearly been two weeks. If you wanted to kill me you would’ve.”

“Maybe I’m waiting until I’m all healed up. Really take my time with you.” He lets his voice drop, a low drawl.

You swallow. “I hope not. Would be a waste of my time if you did.”

Dabi scoffs. Your eyes trail back to his staples. He tugs at one and you wince. “Does- Does it not hurt?”

“Nah. Lost feeling a while ago. These staples are the least of my worries.” 

After that little encounter, Dabi takes to annoying you anytime he can. You’re avoiding him, he can tell, and it’s pissing him off. You spend every day holed up in your room while he has to sit on the couch like a fucking idiot and just wait. Maybe for you to call the cops on him, maybe for him to commit some heinous crime because he’s so fucking bored.

It’s why he starts trying to piss you off. Purposefully loosening his bandages, whining about the pain. You don’t complain, just dutifully bring him water, bring him whatever stupid request he asks of you. You’re being too kind, and he knows it’s fake. He wants to see how long it takes until you break, until that pretty polite smile you throw at him turns into that delicious anger from before. He wants your real emotions. Not this fake shit that makes him want to set the couch on fire.

Maybe it’s fake, or maybe Dabi can’t accept anything from anyone, not without them expecting something in return. And until he figures out what that is he doesn’t give a shit what you think of him.

It comes quicker than he thought. Only three days later, after he spent the entirety of your work phone call turning the TV higher and higher, until the show he was paying no mind was so loud you had to walk out the room. You’d come back out twenty minutes later and there it was, that frown he was missing.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You snap, snatching the remote off the coffee table to turn the TV off. Dabi just watches you, a small amused smile on his face.

You shake your head. “Don’t just fucking sit there. You’ve been trying to piss me off for the past few days and here, I’m giving it to you. Happy?” You yell.

You rub your eyes furiously. “I just- I don’t get it. I’m- I’m helping you, I kept you from dying. Why are you being suc-“

“Why?”  

His voice is enough to silence you completely and he likes what little control he has over you. 

“Why what?”

“Why the fuck are you helping me? I don’t understand you.” He says, watching you pace across the living room.

“Some fucking nobody in the middle of a shitty town in an even shittier apartment housing me. Why? Makes no sense to me, and I don’t like things that don’t make sense.”  

You stop. You flalter slightly. He catches it, the way your hands twist in the hem of your shirt.

“What, you expected me to let you die?” 

“Yeah. I do it a lot.”

“Yeah, well not everyone is a sick sadistic psycho like you are.” You snarl.

You seem to regret the words the second they leave your mouth. Dabi grins and you cross your arms and look away.

“Aw, don’t get all shy on me. I love that bratty mouth of yours.” You grimace at his words.

“Shut up.” You in breathe once. Purposeful and unsteady.

“I don’t know- Well I do know what you’re like. I guess all of Japan does. But I wasn’t going to let you just die on me like that. I don’t give a fuck who you are. Nobody deserves that.” You speak purposefully, trying hard to hide your emotion.

“And what are you expecting back?”

You look at him, then. And he sees something shift in your expression and you scoff.

“I don’t want anything back. I just did a good thing. I know that might be a foreign concept to you, but to us normal people it isn’t.”  

So bratty. He’d shut you up if he could move without popping a stitch. 

“Just.” You rub your eyes again. “Just stop trying to piss me off all the time. It’s working and it’s so fucking annoying.”

“And what makes you think I’m going to listen to you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the fact you’ve been living in my house for two week?”

“I don’t fucking understand you.”

“I don’t understand you. I mean, how much time and money have I spent on you? It took me ages to get all the blood out my carpet and my toilet. And you still fucked up my couch, even though I covered it up. You think I can afford a new couch? One not covered in blood? I just-“

You pause. Take another deep breath.

“I don’t really know why I’m doing this either. I feel weirdly obligated to. As a nurse, and all. And- I don’t want the hassle, and the attention that would’ve been brought at my door if i had called the ambulance. And I’m sure you wouldn’t have either. So just do me a favour and stop making it so difficult.” 

He stares at you. The slump of your shoulders and he thinks the emotion he’s feeling is pity, or something similar. He doesn’t really know and he doesn’t really care.

But he still wants the healing, and he wants that really good ramen you made the other day. So he shrugs.

“Whatever.”

“Yeah. Whatever. Fucking hell.”  You mumble, stalking off into the kitchen.

Things change after that. You slowly start to spend more time with Dabi. Which might be an overstatement. You sit on the loveseat beside him. Usually reading or catching up with work or throwing too much commentary at a show he’s watching. You catch him staring at your book once and you hold up the cover to him. The title reads, ‘The truth behind the Commission’.

“Quite the problematic read.” He nods and you smile slightly.

“I guess. I like this author. He doesn’t bullshit.”

“You hate heroes, then?”

You shake your head quickly. “‘No. Well. I don’t hate them, I just. There’s a lot of things wrong with hero society. A lot. And I think a lot of heroes get away with shit they shouldn’t because of that title. I don’t know. It’s all fucked, and I’m not gonna sit here praising them just because they do good things. Doesn’t make them good people.” 

He doesn’t reply that quickly and you look sheepish. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”

He makes a noise. “Nah, I loved your little anti-hero rant. The league could use a girl like you.”

Your face pales and he barks out a laugh. “Don’t say that!”

After that you start leaving books on the coffee table for him. He doesn’t thank you for it. 

The second time Dabi decides he’ll trust you happens quickly. There’s a box of pizza in front of the two of you, and you’re both not paying much attention to the TV. He’s more looking at you, the way you twirl a strand of hair around and around your finger, bite at your top lip when you’re thinking. Then your face frowns.

“Ew. Pass me the remote.” You hold your hand out to him.

He looks at the TV, and there’s daddy dearest. It’s a documentary, he thinks. Some stupid shit that praises the worst man in the world because he’s a ‘good hero’. He’s got his reason to hate him. But the look of disgust on your face is more delightful than it is confusing. 

“What? Not a fan of our number two hero?” The words leave a bitter taste in his mouth but the look on your face washes it away.

“Fuck no. There’s something about him I don’t trust. I don’t fucking like that guy.” You frown, quickly changing the channel. “I miss All Might.” 

He doesn’t reply to that. He doesn’t know what he’d say if he did.

And then Dabi realises he actually likes being around you. Especially when you’re always staring at him when you think he doesn’t notice.

“You know, I bought you shirts, too.” You speak the words quickly and without making direct eye contact.

Dabi had taken to not wearing any, despite the fact you had bought him some. He only wore  different sweats you’d bought him, slung low on his hips. He always ran hot anyway, and you never complained until now.

He grins. “Aw, this ain’t a pretty sight for you?”

“No, of course not!” 

You face flushes and Dabi leans a little further down on the couch, letting his sweats drift a little lower. Dabi knows he’s fit, and he knows the distinct shape of his V line is what’s making you avoid his form on the couch entirely. He’s not stupid, he’s caught you looking before.

“Right, I didn't mean that. I was just wondering. You know?” 

“Right, right. Don’t worry, baby, I wouldn’t wanna make you uncomfortable. Be a doll and pass me that shirt, yeah?”

You nod. So obedient, he thinks. He grabs the shirt from your hand, letting his fingers drift against yours. You hand twitches slightly and Dabi smiles, sickly sweet.

“Thanks.” 

“S’fine.” 

When you give Dabi the green light to get up and move, he waits for you to go to work so he can thoroughly snoop around your house. He walks his way around the living room that he's grown too accustomed to. He doesn’t care about the kitchen or the toilet he’s been to a million times. Where he really wants to explore is your bedroom.

You’re so stupid. Letting a villain like him in your house. His hand trails over your dresser, the souvenirs and trinkets from holidays and birthdays. There’s even more pictures in here and you’re so loved he can feel it through the paper. You’re always smiling, teeth shining and impossibly bright and for a split second he wonders what you’d look like smiling at him like that.

Your room is quite messy and it doesn’t surprise him. Clothes littered all over the floor, books and a makeup bag scattered over your desk. Your bed is hastily made and your sheets are a soft pink. And he can see you on it begging for him so prettily, so obedient like you always are for him. 

He opens your bedside tables drawers, searches through the junk for something. He doesn’t even know what. There’s old movie stubs and receipts held together with a bobby pin. A postcard from someone called ‘Becky’ in Italy. Some empty lip gloss tubes and a candle burned down to the bottom. Then he sees a small rock. Hidden beneath the postcard and a letter telling you to go to the opticians. Shiny and blue just like his eyes, his flames. He turns it in his hand for a second, the smooth surface cool on his skin, before pocketing it swiftly. 

You don’t notice when you get home. If you do, you don’t say anything. 

You only get bolder in your approach with him after that. You start sitting on the couch with him. You ask him stupid small talk questions. What’s his favourite colour, his favourite food. And if you see how incredibly weird the whole situation is you don’t comment on it, so neither does he. Dabi feels more like a roommate than a patient now. You both don’t bring up the fact he’s healed enough to leave. You tell him he needs a few more days and he lets you lie.

“It’s nice having someone else in the house.” You say one day.

The two of you were on the couch, just that bit closer than the time before. Dabi’s arm rests on the back of the couch, and if he moved just a little to the left he’d be touching you. 

“What?” 

You shrug. “I get lonely, you know? All my friends live miles away, and the same with my family. I don’t know anyone around here.” 

You turn to him then, and shoot him a small smile. 

“It’s nice having company. Makes my house feel lived in.”

“Even if it’s a big old villain?”

You roll your eyes. “Haven’t been very villainous though, have you?”

“It’s never too late, baby.”

It’s the beginning of the end when he starts to do stuff for you.

It’s nothing crazy at first. He sees dishes in the sink so he puts them in the dishwasher. There’s a load of washing in the washer so he puts it in the dryer. He's just bored. He hasn’t left this house in weeks now, and while he likes the stress-free environment, he’s starting to feel antsy. 

And then he saw your face once, looking at the empty washer like he’d given you a diamond ring. And it felt good that he put it there. And Dabi decided it couldn’t hurt to pull his weight a little more around the house. If you’d look at him like that again he’d do anything you asked for.

You come home at three in the morning one night. Stupidly, he thinks. The area you live in is not a safe one, but it’s hardly his problem if you get kidnapped on your way back. When you walk through the door, the lights are all low and you stumble, mumbling curses under your breath. You turn them on and Dabi thinks you look perfect. Cheeks red from the cold, the dress you’re wearing slowly slipping up your thighs. The top is cut enough to make your tits look great, and you brush a strand of your hair out your face as you bend down to take your shoes off. He shouldn’t look, but really it’s all your fault for inviting a villain into your house. What did you expect?

You look up and your face lights up when you see him.

“Dabi! Oh my gosh, hey! I did- I thought you’d be sleeping.” You say the last word in a whisper.

And if that wasn’t tell enough that you were drunk, the way you almost fall walking to the kitchen is. You grab a water from the fridge, and Dabi watches as you down the whole thing in one go, drops of it dripping down your chin and your neck. You breathe heavily, chest heaving up and down as slump against the counter.

“God, I'm so thirsty. The drinks, I mean we had drinks. Of course! Mimosas and like, they were all pink and glittery. Can you tell I’ve been drinking?”

“Oh, not at all.” 

You grin. “Okay! Good! And then, this guy kept buying me drinks. So many drinks. The pink ones again. And I drank them. They were good, though.” 

You walk over to the couch and plop yourself next to him. Your bare thigh presses into his and Dabi lets it. He’s more focused on this little friend of yours buying you so many drinks than anything else.

“What guy?”

“Dunno. Some freak. I think- He was hitting on me. That's what my friend said to me.”

Dabi nods. “Mhm. You didn’t like him?”

You grimace, shaking your head.  “Ew, no way. He’s- He was so blond. And like, preppy. It was gross. He was gross.”

Dabi snorts a laugh. You grin at the sight of it. “Blond and preppy not your type?”

“No. No. I like.” You turn to face him. You cross your legs on the couch, tugging your dress down as it hikes up. You look at him quizzically before nodding your head, like you’ve figured something out.

“Actually, you are my type.” 

Dabi thinks he needs to get you drunk more. He likes the way you’re looking at him.

“Really?”

“Oh for sure. I like- You know like, emos.”

Never fucking mind. 

“I’m not emo, what the fuck?”

You laugh, loud and boisterous. “You so are! The black hair and, and the staples are like piercings. I bet you listen to heavy metal. Do you?” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

You giggle, leaning over to rest your head on the couch. Your eyes travel down to his torso, exposed in the vest he was wearing. You reach a hand up, tracing it down the lines of his muscles, over the scarred skin. 

“Love your arms. So big. Can’t even wrap my hand around them.” You mumble. You demonstrate, taking a deep breath when your finger can't meet at the other side. 

“And. I like your voice. So raspy. It’s hot as fuck. And your eyes. So blue. Like the ocean. Like hat billie eilish song.”

He huffs a laugh. You look up at him, eyes shining from the light of the TV. You smile softly, hand still burning a hole on his arm. 

“Thanks if- for not killing me. And going all villain on me.”

Dabi hums. Sees your eyes trail down to his lips and back up to his face. 

“Never say never.”

“Shut up. Don’t say that. You’d never kill me. I’m too loveable.” 

“Too fucking full of yourself.”

“Wish I was full of you.” 

Your hands cover your mouth the second you say the words and you sit up suddenly. Dabi barks a laugh, and you whine, covering your face with your hands.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. I’m so drunk. Oh my god.” You groan.

“Don’t worry, baby. We can make your dreams come true.” He smirks.

“Stop. Now. Before I die of embarrassment.” 

Dabi pats your shoulder. “S’fine, baby.” 

You slump a little, yawning loudly. You glance down at his hand that still hasn’t left your shoulder. “You're so warm.”

“It’s almost as if I have a quirk that produces fire.”

You roll your eyes. You turn slightly and lean against Dabi. He stiffens slightly as you adjust yourself, pulling one of your throw blankets down over your body. 

“The fuck are you doing?”

“I’m cold. You’re warm.”

“Go sleep in your bed, you idiot.”

“No. Don’t tell me what to do.” 

“The fuck?” 

You don’t say anything. Dabi looks down and your eyes are shut. He can feel your bare skin on his body. It’s so cool in comparison to his. That’s why he lets you stay there. He’s warming you up and you’re cooling him down. And you just stay there, sleep soundly like he isn’t a murderer, like he isn’t worth the same as the dirt on your shoes.

The next morning you don’t speak of it. Just rush yourself to the bathroom because, like an idiot, you went out on a Wednesday night like you didn’t have work the next day. 

Dabi realises he needs to leave when you almost kiss him.

You’re not drunk this time. He wishes you were. Wishes he could blame it on the alcohol coursing through your veins and not something else. This time, you aren’t both sitting on the couch like you usually are. You both stand at the big window in your living room, Dabi smoking a cigarette and you looking at the stars. It’s late, but it’s a weekend, so you don’t have anywhere to be. You’ve been talking and he’s been listening. The occasional response. He’s more focused on you, on the way the moonlight streaks across your face, the way you’re wearing one of the shirts you bought him. It dips down past your waist and he feels like you're his.

“Oh my god! You’ll never guess who came into work yesterday.” You turn to him excitedly.

“Who?”

“Remember I was telling you about that guy who kept buying me drinks?”

Dabi nods. “The blond one who’s not your type?”

You nod frantically. “Yes. He came in because he had to get tested for an STD! Can you believe that?”

Dabi scoffs. “Yes. Any guy buying pretty girls drinks is a guy that sleeps around.”

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” You coo.

“Gorgeous.” It’s meant to be sarcastic, but it comes out much more real than he’d hoped.

“Well, it’s no matter. I wouldn’t have gotten with him, drinks or not. I'm safe from any STD’s.”

Dabi takes another drag of his cigarette. “So harsh. It’s what’s on the inside that counts, I thought.”

“Not when it comes to a hookup. And not when there’s literally some-“ You cut yourself off. 

“When there’s what?”

“Nothing. Shut up.” 

Dabi rolls his eyes. He turns so he’s facing out the window completely, resting his elbows on the windowsill. He presses the cigarette into the wall beneath it. 

“Well, desperate times, baby. You wouldn’t believe some of the girls I’ve hooked up with.”

“I find it hard to believe you struggle to hook up with people.” 

Dabi barks a laugh at that. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrug. “You're hot. Isn’t that all guys need to hookup?”

“The whole ‘wanted villain’ thing scares people off. Usually.” He gives you a pointed look. “That, and the scars.”

You look at him and gesture at him to face you. You’re looking at him so intensely he feels nervous. Dabi, a serial killer with more kills under his belt than you can imagine, is nervous because of a silly little civilian.

“What’s wrong with them?”

“What’s right with them? They’re ugly, and they’re being held onto my face with fucking staples. Freaks people out.” He shrugs.

You furrow your brows. You look at his face, his arms, his chest. Where yes, he isn’t wearing a shirt again. The scar across it from a knife wound that feels years away.

“Shut up. Do you actually think that?”

Dabi tilts his head. “You don’t?”

“Of fucking course I don’t. They- You’re hot as fuck! I don’t understand why your scars would change that?” You splutter. And you look angry for him and Dabi feels his chest tighten.

“It’s alright, baby. I don’t care. My dick still gets wet when I need it to.” 

You wince. “Ew, Dabi. That’s gross.” 

“You’re gross for having a crush on a villain.”

You blush. “Shut up. I don’t have a crush on you.”

“Sure, sure.” 

Dabi can hear the sound of cars a few streets down. The breeze is light, and he can feel it rustling with his hair. He wonders if you notice the white of his roots peeking through. If you look enough to notice. 

He’s pulled from his thoughts when he feels your hand on his arm. Trailing up and around the divide of skin and scars. Your fingers trace over the staples. You touch him so gently. So softly. He wants to rip your hands off and lean into them all at once.

“Did I say you could touch?” He speaks quietly. You smile slightly, looking up at him for a second.

“I don’t hear any complaints.” 

You brush against the panes of his chest. Dance across the scar that will only ever remind him of you. Dabi thinks he leans into you. He wonders if you notice. You move up the sharp lines of his collarbone, the curve of his Adam’s Apple. And then your hands rest on his face. And they’re softer than his will ever be, free of the marks of his childhood and his days burning to quieten the noise in his head. Your hand curves against his cheek and he wonders if you can feel his heart beating as heavily as it is. 

Your fingers brush under his eyes. The small patch of purple skin that rounds them, like ever present eye bags. 

“Your eyelashes are so pretty. So long. I’m jealous.” You murmur.

Dabi doesn’t reply. He doesn’t think he could if he wanted to. 

And then you look at his lips again. Then back up at his eyes. And you look at him with so much emotion that he wants to gouge his own eyes out so he never has to think about it again. Never has to see you looking at him so tenderly. And when you lean forward, just that bit more, hand still on his face, he takes a breath. 

And then your phone rings, and the moment is shattered. You curse under your breath, fumbling around for your phone. You smile sheepishly as you brandish it at him.

“I’m sorry. It’s my mum. Give me a second.”

The two of you don’t meet at the window again. Dabi falls asleep to the sound of your voice in the next room.

He wishes you were horrible. Wishes you were annoying, or ugly, or maybe Endeavour’s number one fan. Instead you’re not. You’re funny and you’re a good cook. You’re fucking stupid for letting him into your life. You’re so kind. You start bookmarking the parts you think he’d like in the books you leave him and he wants to turn the pages to kindling. You talk to him like you actually give a shit what he has to say. Like you give a shit about him.

Dabi wants to leave a mark on you like you’ve left one on him. Because he’s seen the pictures hung around your house and you’re loved. You have your people, you have a place. You don’t need him. But Dabi? He hadn’t been to the league in however many weeks, and he hadn’t heard a peep. Nobody cares about him. Nobody has his picture up in their room. Dabi could’ve bled out in your driveway all that time ago and nobody would give two shits. 

He wants someone to give two shits about him. He wants you to give two shits about him. And it’s a thought that keeps Dabi up every night. Legs still impossibly too long for the couch, as all he can think about is how you’ve ruined him. You’re too fucking good for him. And he knows you’ll soon realise that. 

That’s why he leaves.

Dabi doesn’t know what you expected. That he’d stay? That you’d live together like this forever? He’s fucking realistic. He knows this goes nowhere. There’s a blue collar prick working in some construction site you’ll end up with one day. A man who you can introduce to your parents, one who won’t stain your carpets with his blood, who you can hang up on your walls.

Dabi takes nothing except for the clothes on his back. He waits until he knows you're asleep on those ugly pink sheets and he slips out silently. And he doesn’t look back as he walks away, as the sounds of life hit him properly for the first time in forever. He doesn’t look down at the front porch where he’d almost died, not at the flowers he’d destroyed when he’d collapsed on top of them.

He leaves before he can destroy everything else. Before he destroys you. You and your soft hands and your piercing gaze. He hates you. He hates you so fucking much he feels flames licking at his clothes at just the thought of you.

When he makes his way back to the league, nobody says much of anything. He stalks his way back to his own room. There’s no pictures hung up on the walls. It’s unbearingly small and it feels so lifeless. He lays down on a bed that fits him perfectly. Digs in his pockets for your stupid fucking rock, the same colour as his eyes, that you had hidden in that drawer. 

Dabi throws it across the room. He watches it hit the wall, skid under his dresser. He leaves it there.

——————————————————————-

yo ah really thought u could fix him 🤣🤣 I’ve been too nice to u guys recently so I had to mix in some angst 🙏 this is much longer than usual so I hope u like!

btw recently every title of the fic is based on the song I listen to while I write it so I highly recommend listening to it while u read these :P

I have been posting an INSANE. Amount. Like I think I posted once a day all last week and it’s all been about Dabi 😭😭 I’m very busy this week, so I fear my streak might be lost

lemme know if u want a pt 2!

[venusbyline]

Nate Jacobs NSFW Alphabet

⚠️: Smut, Nate Jacobs x Female Reader, slightly switch!Nate, mention of cnc.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Nate isn't the aftercare biggest fan, he only cares about it if you're already in real relationship. He'll probably lie in bed with you, watching a random movie on TV while cuddleing you against his chest, or massaging your shoulders and feet before you fall asleep.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He's very proud of his muscles. He worked hard to have a body as attractive as that, so he definitely brags about it a lot. He also knows he's lucky to be so tall.

I think Nate's an ass guy. It doesn't matter if your ass size, he loves squeezing and biting your soft skin. But in non-sexual context, I think the part of you he loves most it's your eyes. If you give him that puppy dog eyed... Girl, this man will become even more madly in love. The innocent vibes it's everything to him (even if you're not and he knows it).

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

Remember what I said about Nate loving your ass? If you're taking it doggy style, you can bet he'll take his cock out first just to cum on your ass.

If you're giving him head, he'll wanna cum on your face. He loves the feeling when he sees your pretty cheeks covered by his cum.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Nate'll never admit it if you ask, but he LOVES being choked and slightly degraded. He'll wanna make you jealous on purpose, just to see you to get on top, riding his cock and grabbing his throat with your little hands, cursing him with anything your angry brain can think of.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

It's kinda obvious, but Nate's VERY experienced. He has already fucked so many girls from that city. Sometimes it gets depressing for you, knowing how many your classmates have already been fucked by your boyfriend in the past.

HOWEVER, you're the first girl who has really able to explore his switched/submissive side. Before Nate dating you, he never let anyone sexually dominate him (even gently).

F = Favorite Position (Pretty self explanatory)

Doggystyle. This guy loves feeling you so small under him, his whole big body covering yours as he fucks your pussy, so rough and listening to you whining. If you start moaning too loud, he might grab your throat or cover your mouth with his hand (we know Nate's hand it's REALLY big, so don't be surprised if he ends up covering your face too much).

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous?)

Well... Nate's very serious. He has anger issues and lives with a dark mind, in addition to having his own character deviations. So let's say that he uses sex as a way to de-stress and let out all his frustrations. Often.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes)

No hair. Nate's obsessed with his personal hygiene, to the point where he thinks his own pubic hair it's disgusting. As time goes, maybe you'll be able to convince him this is nonsense, but he'll still get sullen and probably shave it all off the moment the brown hairs starting show up.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

We know Nate's more aggressive. He's not very romantic during sex and you already knew what you were getting into before you started dating him. But if you have a rough day, maybe he'll take it easy and try to be more soft. However, don't expect the romantic aspect being a routine.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Curiously, Nate doesn't jack off that much. Before he met you, he always got some random girls to distract him. Now he has you, he doesn't have to worry about that. But he keeps some pictures and amateur home videos that you two made so he can use it as motivation for moments when he's alone and needs cumming.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

As I said before: choking, giving and receiving.

Spanking, he loves spanking your ass, your face... Any part of your body you allow.

He really likes degrading you, especially if he's jealous. He calls you an attention whore and says you're just a stupid whore... If he's in a good mood, he's a little less rude or uses a more soft voice (maybe calling you "MY stupid little whore, MY attention whore...)

Breeding kink AS FUCK. Nate fucks you and talks dirty about getting you pregnant. So considering that... he has creampie too, it's obvious. Despite his fucked up Daddy issues, I think he likes being called Daddy in sex.

Things like pulling your hair and spitting on your mouth and face too. Draciphilia's also his kink, your tears flowing while he fucks you and humiliates you make you even hotter.

A light CNC/rapeplay too, but he doesn't know how telling you that, so he'd rather just picturing it for a while. But if he ever tells you and you consent and set your limits, you'll discover an even darker side of your boyfriend.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Party bathrooms and his truck. He loves taking risks, the idea of someone seeing you in a vulnerable moment like that makes him fucking jealous and turns him on even more.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

The moment Nate starts feeling jealous, he becomes aggressive and horny. AND HE'S ALWAYS JEALOUS!

Your innocent and worried look at him when he's angry about his personal issues their also things that turns him on a lot. He knows he NEEDS to fuck you at that moment.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nate won't share you. He's been totally against threesomes since he started dating you. Even though he was a huge womanizer, nowadays he still wouldn't feel comfortable seeing a woman touch you either.

Much less a man. He would rather be killed than let another man touch you, his girlfriend, only his.

If you dare suggesting something like this, you can be sure that will cause one of the worst arguments in your entire relationship.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

As good as Nate's at eating you out, I feel like he'd rather you give him head. He loves taking control of this situation, making you kneel and take his cock to the back of your throat. He grabs your hair and forces you trying to fit every inch of his member into your mouth, also controlling the speed.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc)

Nate likes fast and rough thrusts, to the point where the noises of your hips clashing and your loud moans echo throughout his house. Therefore if you're having sex in secret in a public place, he covers your mouth to avoid interruptions and trouble.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc)

Nate's the real biggest fan of quickies. Anywhere it's time. Are you at a party? He just drags you to the bathroom and fucks you there.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc)

He takes a lot of risks, especially due sex in public places.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

Because of his athletic body and because he's already used to very rough training routines, Nate can last a long time, so you're sure cumming many times. As for the number of rounds, I think he cums twice. Although he's not really tired and can keeping going if both of you want, it ends up not being so euphoric.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

There aren't so many toys for you two using... Who needs them when you have those huge hands or his own belt spanking you if you're being a brat? But... Let's say that sometimes he likes using some dildos and a Hitachi Magic Wand on you, seeing you crying and overstimulated, dripping for him.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Nate loves teasing you, he wants seeing you beg for him, begging for his cock. He may deny your orgasms or let you feeling overstimulated until you need to use your safe word.

But don't you dare tease him back when you're on top, it won't end well for you after sex.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

When Nate's dominating you, he barely makes sounds other than dirty talk. Just some low growling and swearing. But when he's punishing you or rapeplaying, he won't mind yelling at you as many times as he wants.

When you're dominating him, he's more vocal and really likes whining for you.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

When Nate loses a football match, he gets angry easily. He pushes himself too hard and ends up taking it out on you, yelling that you distracted him from his goals or something like that. But all of this always ends after angry sex. Once, you were so tired of his explosive behavior that you decided he needed learning to use his mouth to something more useful.

You knew that behind that angry and aggressive facade, your boyfriend was just frustrated with himself, so you needed to show that you weren't disappointed with him. It wasn't long before he was lying on the bed, you on top of his face using it to rub your pussy while he swallowed your juices and jerked off his own cock, rubbing his nose against your clit and whining muffledly, as you moaned loud and called him a good boy.

X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

I think his cock it's about 7.5 inches, quite rosy and thick enough to always makes you scream by pain and pleasure when he gets inside your pussy roughly. Sometimes you literally can see the shape of his cock marking the soft skin of your stomach as he fucks you.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Very high. He's Nate Jacobs, don't expect anything less that from him.

Z = ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes a while for him to start feeling sleepy, so you can be sure that you'll sleep well before he does.

[avenoirzm]

understanding the kennedy

✎ sadly, leon isn’t the most optimal guy to enjoy the time with cause he is the bluntest man out there, but your time spent together and your adventures in the process of survival prove just how cuddly and sweet he can be… in an elevator, preferably with his hands on your body.

cw: fingering, leon being an ass, tit play, dirty talk bc auugh i love his voice, mentions of gore? kinda, fem! reader, idk if i should add anything else bc my mind is not minding, MDNI

You’re about to throw up, no kidding. Your dubious gaze flies between Leon and Ashley, bouncing between two blonde heads. Okay, so how did you end up in this situation? Let’s recap. First things first, you’re an agent with an orderly and strict life under the rules of the government. Being good at your job is what pockets so much trouble plus fresh green dough, which you deserve to earn to the bitter end.

Let’s proceed to the second reason. When the President’s daughter suddenly disappears and an anonymous tip comes in that she’s been sighted in a village in Spain you’ve never heard of, the President himself appeals to two names he can rely on with his very life.

You and Leon Scott Kennedy.

As crystal clear as it is that you’ve heard his name before, pretty much every ear in this business you’re in has heard of this man at least at one point in time. Funny thing is that this may be exactly where things get tricky. People only know a name, Leon, but nothing about the personality or the story behind his name. You’re very much aligned with this category of people. Yes, and in the middle of the mission, not to mention how crucial it is, you don’t exactly expect to playhouse with Leon Kennedy, granted. Still, it’s not entirely flattering that the man projects himself to you with nothing more than a short nod. He certainly doesn’t like to talk, albeit occasionally overhearing him talking to himself, or cracking one liner to infected villagers that make the skin chapped and dry in winter, paints a much different picture of Leon in your mind.

He schemes on his own and rarely consults your point of view when he takes the matter elsewhere, which naturally leaves you feeling inferior to him. The sour grimace on your face is always preceded by a wisecrack, conveying the image of a self-righteous and, conversely, insecure man. Is this what the infamous Kennedy is like?

“Psst, amp up your game, agent.” A laconic tone, a haughty flow to his voice, as if to say, ‘I know best around here, and you don’t.’

In a riot you never expected to stumble upon, the villagers clogged with armaments composed of pitchforks, axes and hacksaws, your life is miraculously salvaged by an anonymous clarion call of a bell. Now you are looting a random house in the village for Leon’s ridiculous reasons, or rather he’s the only one doing the looting because there is no way you would ever touch anything of these ailing locals.

“Hunnigan warned that the sooner the better, herring brain.”

“Herring brain?” His back is turned to you so you can’t quite see what sort of emoticon is hanging on his face. But the inflection is the same. Sarcastic as hell. He jams his elbow into the glass of the vitrine and it’s not hard to discern whether he’s pivoting to protect his prissy face or to prove to you how pinched his frown is. Definitely the former one even though his face is too pretty to harm.

Putting a grenade in his gear as if it will be enough to slaughter the entire village because it certainly won’t be enough, he tosses another curt retort back at you, not that you weren’t born yesterday.

“Oh, nice.” It’s woven with acrimony and malcontent. Seriously, where does his assertiveness stem from?

“We need to get to the mill straight away.” You try again. Nothing that can’t be solved with a little more civility, right? It’s worth a try.

The soles of his boots crunch on the chunks of broken glass as he trudges forward in front of you. Okay, Mr. Vanity. All humor aside, his gaze is unnerving, as if there are vines tied around your ankles holding you in place, so much so that you can do nothing but loiter in his presence, bunglingly.

It’s as though for a moment you forgot about his joke, mainly about playing bingo and his usual goofy mentality, how dare you be demeaned in front of him, seriously this guy is nonentity, for his sheer size, he has a giant head full of cheesy jokes and an enormous high forehead that he tries to cover with a fringe of his hair. Ugh, lame alert. But… He’s still handsome, let’s face it. Could be the work of charm that these drone men so rarely acquire.

Still, don’t give him the time of day on this one, not after seeing how obnoxious he’s proven to be.

You roll your eyes, undeterred, your steps already dragging you forward, and you make your way down the stairs to exit this ramshackle excuse for a house that smells of dung and blood in equal measure.

If only you could get out of the seconds, you’re in now, as you got out of that moment. It’s not that simplistic, it transpires.

“Hey Leon, there’s some armor. Bet you could use it like a bulletproof vest.” Well, Ashley is a cute girl and denial can be deemed as a blind existence, or deafness, whatever. But when she starts to fill up your patience drop by drop, as it has been the case ever since you reached the Salazar Castle, she gradually grows more and more friendly with... Leon, not with you. The president’s daughter’s words are clear and concise, one hundred percent of flirtation. It’s fine, you don’t care. But usually speaking to you as if you are not the part of this mission, or sometimes outwardly ignoring you, is an aspect you don’t understand.

“Little old fashioned for my taste,” Leon quips in the world’s blandest tone. Damn.

It’s a wonder what happened to the girlhood chumminess. Maybe Leon and Ashley are more apt to form a closer friendship, or perhaps you’re the low-key of the group, or else Leon alone spotting Ashley in the church fostered a stronger bond of trust between the two of them, when you went your separate ways and found out that Leon had gutted a lake monster or something. Absurd as fuck. To your credit, you weren’t a fat lot of good, a few diary fragments of your findings were the remains of a scientist who had scribbled on a piece of paper about a brand new virus, the plagas. Anyway, back to the shit you’re in. It’s pretty obvious that there’s nothing too serious damage of emotions here, in fact Leon is so thick that he turns Ashley down time and time again, not in a rude way, never in a crude way, but just with his inane and arid jokes.

“Too bad. I think you’d look pretty dashing,” Ashley’s chirping, but it’s no good. She gets no reaction. You think this is the signal for the end of their conversation, and you just follow the two of them into the moonlit room, keeping silent. I mean, why join in, since watching this awkward thing going on between the two of them is frankly like a cutscene in a sit-com. You know, Leon sucks at the whole flirting thing, you figure it out, so all that bravado, all that stoicism, it’s all a veneer. Insecure, yet cute.

The romp with Luis is a very specific narrative. It’s short and abrupt, so sudden that it’s unreasonably all tied to him. The only thing you know is that Luis has the medicine to treat the poisoning of Leon and Ashley by the parasite that was probably written on the pieces of scrap paper you found and... that’s it. It’s obvious that you’re his ticket out of here, and that he’s telling you how he no longer works for Los Illuminados as a way out of this clusterfuck while ogling your boobs is extra hassle.

He‘s a completely alternative man to the intangible and abstract man Leon is, flirting is Luis’ breakfast, lunch, appetizer and, of course, his dinner. Like the water, he has to drink so he can exist. Like his cigarettes, you can say.

One small maneuver could stop him, you could even tell Leon that you won’t go along with his scheme to trust this guy (he somehow doesn’t like the attitude), put a bullet in his head and take his life on the spot. But it’s the inner attention whore fairy in you that permits Luis to flirt like there’s no tomorrow simply because you like the limelight. That and he’s pretty cute, his hair looks great, you can work with that.

Basically, it’s a peculiar combo. There’s nothing stopping Luis. Even when you’re underground, literally underground, and you’re trying to get back up, there’s not a single thing stopping him from alternating between you and Leon, sometimes putting a few bullets in the infected villagers in between, and watching you and Leon do most of the work. Two hot agents wrestling their way out of the mess, what can he say? It’s hot. If Leon asks him to participate and assist, he just shrugs and says, “Hey, I’m the brains. You’re the brawn and the señorita is the vision.” A walking paragon of bisexualism.

But what impression did this little oversight strike in Leon’s eyes? Just one word, bleakness. The others are sourness, everything about unpleasantness.

Trusting someone, especially someone he didn’t necessarily know, to get things fixed was beginning to become a habit of Leon’s. Yes, he wants to help everyone whenever he can and that’s where all the shit hits the fan for him. He is, notably, reluctant to put his trust in someone (formerly!) working for a corporation that has razed a young rookie full of dreams and wrecked several lives in one simple night. Call it a survival instinct or whatnot. Besides, it’s quite asinine for Luis to act so laid back or to think he has that luxury in the midst of so much grime and squalor. The flirting game doesn’t cease, and Leon’s pestering you as well, blatantly flaunting around with a flamboyant of a flirt would suggest that you’re neglecting your expertise and don’t give a damn about the mission.

That’s exactly what bothers him, never for any other reason. Yeah, right? Uh, or... How an agent of your reserve falling for Luis’ tricks and snubbing Leon might (it is a certainty) be playing a small part in his aggravation.

“Really? I didn’t take you had such a low standard,” he says so casually in the elevator that’s now hauling you upstairs, in a rare moment when you can have some privacy, and you wonder if he’s never spoken or at least ever bothered to talk to you.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You quirk an eyebrow and watch as he cocks his gun, giving it a quick once-over, an idle thing he almost always does, but one that makes your skin prickle with welcoming tingles. What the fuck is going on? Intensifying gun kink moment, perhaps.

“WhAt is thAt suPpoSed to mEan?” He emulates your intonation effortlessly. Hey, come on, your voice isn’t that squeaky.

It would be a challenge for him not to miss the wintry glower on your face, he’s observant and to tell the truth, watching your face makes him feel good, at times. At times is the key ingredient. For after all, he had made that mistake once before, of falling into the maw of the sweet trap of the woman he had known overnight in Raccoon City and in whom he had tormented his heart. Except things are, otherwise, he’s not a rookie anymore and he even finds these traps interesting. Or rather, he likes you.

“You need to watch your mouth, asshole.” Your voice lectures him with a sharp vibrato.

“Huh?” Quite the sport that he is. What, was he guarding his stone-like reticence in order to torture you for hours on end? Or has he gotten over the familiarization period and is suddenly expecting you to click like best pals? Reading men is the toughest exercise in the world, everyone knows for a fact that they don’t use their brains, but reading Leon is much more demanding. It’s a lot of strain and it’s the kind of maltreatment that can cripple a person both physically and cognitively. It takes a lot to tune in to the energy of the likes of Luis, a verse of assertive words for a few more ambitious words and, well, he’s a good warm-blooded friend now. Then Leon? It is very very shaky to figure out what to do to stay on his good side.

“Whatever.” Your voice echoes with finality and your follow-up answer is disrupted by the juddering of the elevator accompanied by a beeping sound. Lights flicker and breaths are held in short gasps, as these things often don’t augur well. Then darkness blankets the space like the teasing gloom of a sky before the copious rain patters fall on the soil.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” His peevish voice is more sizzling, smooth like butter. So caressing against your skin, now you can give people with vocal kink their due. If it weren’t for his absurd jokes, you would fall to your knees thoughtlessly and su—

“Hey, I’m talking to you. Better tune your ears.”

“Wh-What?”

“Come on, are you daydreaming in the middle of a mission? Man, looks like you’re not as polished as the president thought you were.”

He points a flashlight directly at your face, before a clicking sound, an endeavor to render you legally blind.

“Stop it,” you hiss in rebuke to which he reciprocates with a ragged snort. There is something staggering about the fact that the man who didn’t say a word to you last night is surprisingly toying with you like a schoolboy. So much so that there can be no other conceivable answer to the vermouth tint of your cheeks. The grin on his face provides a unique glimpse of his crooked teeth. Or his soft jawline. Up close, he’s full of his flaws, but he looks cute, you can’t lie. And you can’t just imagine being dissuaded by someone so full of little foibles. Especially on duty, in a malfunctioning elevator.

“Shy, or am I living things in my head?”

“The latter and for the first, dream on, buddy.”

“Oh, well. I shouldn’t be dreaming much then.”

None of these rejoinders are smooth, they’re frankly lame, painfully corny. Except that you have an infinite penchant for pretty-faced men and their languishing eyes, namely Leon.

Which is why in the darkness you can’t visualize how his hand is tucked into your pants. The sound of his fingers curling inside you is the root catalyst for the darling mantle on your cheeks, and the pilgrimage is the secondary motivator. Alongside his drenched and glove clad hand, his other hand is under your shirt, cupping your right tit, which is sticking out of your bra, with gusto.

“Tsk tsk, how long have we been on post, hm? For how many hours?”

He bombards you with queries as if you have the breath to center on his inquiry. How blunt. Leon jeers when he sees your eyes blinking disproportionately at his. You’re a dumb blur, wet and yes, only for him. Not for Luis, not for anyone else. It’s just a finger dipping in and out of you and the second he sticks a second one in, you adopt a piquant pout, your lips pursed, eyes glazing over. Too pretty a spectrum for Leon.

“Let me answer that for you, sweetheart, it’s been about 7 hours and you’re getting fingered by someone you barely know.” His scratchy drawl tickles your ears like a freshly scabbed wound scratching vigorously like he’s the only thing that will soothe the pain inside you.

“That’s what all your bitterness was for? To get me and keep me for yourself?” His questions almost never conclude, fingers pumping and scissoring the daylights out of you.

“Ashley walks out ‘cause you only want me for yourself. To be all yours?” In return, a protracted, keening whine rolls out of your mouth, your lips bruised from his previous kisses, his teeth. Ouch, so utterly ignominious. When this is over, you will definitely remember this moment and break your sleep. His swelling hubris just like the twitching dick inside his pants gives Leon a feeling of entitlement and conceit. At least he looks more appealing in that way.

“Wish I could understand your blabbering, beautiful,” he jests, his thumb darting over your puffy clit, rushed but attentive as he knows you’re inching close. The face buried in your bosom, his lashes and hair delicately brushing over your skin, shrinks the knot in your belly, warmth flutters. Leon’s urge is stirred by the tight grip of your lovely cunt squeezing the fingers inside of you that are ebbing and flowing incessantly. A harsh and crass mark, a tiny imprint his teeth leaves on your neck, faint, purple, the kind you will carry with you tonight, on this mission and for a time being as it appears.

A seal that is almost bruising, hard enough to draw blood and so irascible because it can’t draw blood, a brand that quickly grows purple, a sting that is the right match for the pinch it leaves on your nipple. A brand that says you are Leon’s, for a fleeting while. It’s absurd that it’s been so long since the last time someone fingered you that you can’t remember cumming. Guys just suck at this shit. And you never dreamed that you would just melt and cum in the fingers of a trite man like Leon. The sight of you paralyzed in rapture is so captivating that his craving to lick and devour you is eclipsed by the sudden illumination of the elevator lights. Pulling out his two fingers, he finally succumbs to his instinct to taste you and allots them close to your lips.

In a very non-sanitary, even grossly insensitive method, his fingers are swabbed thoroughly, as if your tongue were a gauze pad when he pushes them inside your parted lips. He’s spectating you in a blissful trance, and if he were to claim that he didn’t put his fingers in place of his cock gliding between your lips, he’d be the world’s biggest fibbing bastard, and he’s not the world’s biggest fibbing bastard—mind you. Only at the last second does he catch your hand sliding down his hip, grabbing it by your wrist.

“Ah, ah, not so fast.” He winces in pain and the longing to impale himself inside you eats him up, but he has some principles, and he doesn’t want to break them. So, he wipes his fingers on your shirt once they’re out of your mouth knowing it’ll leave a big ass stain. For real? Well, ew.

“H-hey, why the hell?” Your outburst is both about the dick he’s detraining from you and his juvenile antics. He just shrugs his shoulders and hitches up your jeans, notwithstanding that your panties are still damp and caked in juices.

“Sorry, but I’m keeping myself back for the right time. Maybe we can finish it in a hotel after the op, yeah? That’s if we survive.” Oh, but really? Did he really cockblock you?

“Don’t tell me virgin or something?” You just can’t let him go easily.

“Don’t tell me you are a loser to cum on a virgin’s fingers.” Message received. He can't just let it go without a stupid quip.

He reaches down under your shirt and grabs your utility belt lying pointlessly on the floor and your holster. On his knees, like a man designed to minister to you. What can you say? He knows he’s a fucking pain in the ass and he looks hot, that’s for sure. He fastens the belt around your hips, not too tight, certainly not too loose, snaps the holster back to its original place on your thigh, and adjusts the straps with a fair dollop of precision.

“There you go, agent. Ready for action and about to kick some serious cultist ass.” He pushes himself to his feet and strolls out of the elevator, as if his fingers, which minutes ago had been rearranging your pussy walls, had never been inside you. When he opens the elevator door, the gray eyes that await you greet you with a look as if they know everything, as the man waves the inoculum tube in his hand.

“Finally, eh? You should have paged me, Leon.” Luis says flippantly, while Leon looks at him with a dismissive dazzle and your insistence on biting your fingernails out of abject embarrassment is the solitary subject on your mind. Never ever again. (Lies!) It’s not like you’re here to shoot a porn video, right?

[uncouth-the-fifth]

click, p.2 - Sam Winchester/Reader

read it on ao3.

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Reader (late s5) Tags/Warnings: angst, love confessions, romantic sex, oral sex/cunnilingus, (aka, Sam pussy addiction: the shequel), Sam is Lucifer's vessel, reader is AFAB. Word Count: ~11k. Notes: i was commissioned for the second time by the lovely @daffodil-mania, who wanted a continuation of her last fic set during the "say yes" era of s5. (sooooo dangerous to let me put my grubby hands on this version of Sam, btw). i cannot express how BUCK FUCKING WILD uncouth-nation went for the first part of this fic, so this is for all the wonderful people who gushed over click, commented, threw me some kudos, or even just read it and liked it. lots of love, and i hope you enjoy <3 i did my best to rip out your soul as best i could. THIS CAN STAND ON IT'S OWNNN AHHH. i mean. if u wanna read it <3 Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!

FIVE YEARS LATER

The walk from the bus stop to your apartment is a safe and easy seven minutes. If you were any other person in any other world, you’d glide onto the bus after your night shift at the university, hop off at your stop, and bumble toward your apartment without a single care in the world. Maybe stare at your phone the whole walk back. Text a hot guy who isn’t the physical manifestation of the devil on earth. Normal stuff.

But this is your life, so you sit front seat on the bus, hands in your lap, tapping a nervous beat against the angel blade hidden in your book bag. The windows rattle in their frames and gleam with rain. You could get off at your stop and take those easy seven minutes home—but the bus driver could also be a demon, so.

Since you aren’t in the mood to die a slow death tonight, walking a few extra blocks to keep anybody from knowing where you live will have to work.

On day two of this, you’d called Dean and asked if you were being extra paranoid. He’d kindly pointed out: Extra-paranoid is just extra-survival. I dunno about you, but survivin’ a lil’ extra sounds fan-fuckin-tastic to me right about now.

He’s right. You know he’s right. But it still doesn’t feel like a good answer, and that makes you picture Sam, twenty-three and still bright-eyed, running his fingers down your bare back and scowling. I’m sick of surviving. One of these days, I want to actually live my life.

But that had been before the apocalypse, before Dean’s deal, before everything. Sam was a different man now. Hunting had reached into all three of you and ripped all sorts of things out, but you would never forgive it for taking Sam’s hope for something better. God, you missed that Sam. You missed him more than anything.

The city bus lumbers up to the curb and spits you out onto the sidewalk, where you superstitiously hover, waiting for the other passengers crawling away from their night shifts to scatter. It’s only when the bus is a dark spot in the mist down the street that you start to walk, your whole body caked head to toe with oily rain. 

This time, you take a random left toward your apartment and serpentine street-to-street, never walking the exact same way the same week. By the time you’re closer to where the bus could’ve actually dropped you off, the lingering smell of old research books has been practically power-washed out of your clothes. You try to think of anything but the freezing, biting, face-stinging rain… and, like a moth to a flame, your mind floats back to Sam.

It’s been over two weeks since he dropped the nuclear option. Over two weeks ago, Sam wanted to say yes to Lucifer, and over two weeks have passed since the massive, unstoppable-force-meets-immovable-object fight that’d erupted as a result.

Dean had blown up. Sam had pushed. You’d burst into tears and clawed into Sam just as deep, because why, why would he ever go there—why would that even be a fathomable possibility in his mind? Did he really think so low of himself? How could he ever give up like that? How could he leave you—?

The worst part was easily the way Sam had reacted. With Dean or John, he could yell himself hoarse, but when it came to fighting you all he could do was sit and take it. He put his head down and nodded at everything you said, even the cruel things. In some ways it made you angrier, but also inconceivably, cosmically guilty. This was Sam’s choice. And of course, because this was Sam, his choice was to save the whole goddamn world. Not a single bone in your body carried that level of selflessness, yet Sam bled the stuff.

You were still furious with him, but only because being mad at him was the only option you had left. The right thing to do would be to tell Sam, I trust you to make this decision, this is your life, and let him take that jump… But you didn’t have it in you. Saying that felt like pushing him over the ledge yourself, or telling him you’d never cared about him in the first place. If you were angry at least you were still fighting for him in some way.

You’d been on board for everything—trying to find a way out of Dean’s deal, trying to kill Lilith, everything. But the argument with Sam had torn out the final piece of you that could stand this, so you packed a bag, told Dean you’d be in a strict research-only role, and booked it back to your hometown. It was cowardly and stupid and beyond selfish, but you knew your stance. The hunt had taken everything from you. You refused to let it take Sam, too.

Maybe, Sam would take you stepping away as a serious sign to change his mind. You couldn’t imagine a world where Sam and his Winchester stubbornness would ever do that, but. It was a nice wish to hold onto.

By the time you make it up the steps to your apartment building, you’re soaked to the bone and audibly making pathetic shivering sounds. Your bookbag feels heavier than ever, digging a trench into your shoulder as you fish around for your keys. The second your apartment door is open the true weight of your exhaustion hits you—

—and then utterly disappears, replaced by a shock of pure adrenaline.

There’s a new pair of boots by your front door.

You catch the heavy door before it goes swinging against the doorjamb, straining your ears against the ringing silence. The bedside lamp is on in your room.

On dead-quiet feet, you slip in, click the door shut behind you, and slip off your bookbag. Your angel blade is in your hand in a second, but you risk a few extra steps toward your kitchen table to wiggle loose the pistol you taped underneath. Just the weight of your weapons in your hands flicks the hunter muscle memory back on in your body, and before you can think you’re hiding in the shadow beside your bedroom door. Listening.

Soft breathing. The pages of a book turning.

You know, instinctively, who it is—you would know him dumb and blind and dead. But these days, anybody could be piloting his body around.

You suck in a deep breath through your nose, heart throbbing in your ears. You wait until the fingers on your gun aren’t shaking anymore, then burst inside the room, slamming the door into the wall and whipping your pistol up to eye level.

Sam’s head flinches towards you. He is exactly as you saw him two weeks ago; solemn, determined, and open, the air around him practically steaming with safety and goodness. He’s sat comfortably on your bed, reading a book he brought with him. Despite everything, your belly still curls with butterflies when you lay eyes on him. Sam. Definitely Sam, and no one else.

Still, your paranoia has gotten you this far. You both stare at each other for a beat, equal parts scared out of your minds and relieved. Without a word, you keep your gun trained on him, and Sam lets you, his eyes big and understanding. You shuffle sideways to your dresser, and without turning away from him, pop open the top drawer and toss him the silver flask of holy water you keep hidden inside. 

He catches it. So, not a shapeshifter, then. Sam takes a drink of the holy water, even turning to the side so you can see the water go into his mouth. (A demon in Missouri had slipped past the three of you by pretending to sip—only Sam would know that.) You’re still a little terrified, but you manage to pull your weapons back down to your sides. You still don’t know what to say.

He’s really here. The part of you that had worried the argument with Sam would be your last wails with joy. He’s here, alive and in front of you. No matter how awkward you feel you can’t bring yourself to stop staring at him. By the buttery light of your bedside lamp, he literally glows with beauty, and you realize he’d scrubbed his boots off on your welcome mat to not track mud in, and he’d hung up his rain-soaked jacket in your shower to dry. Stupid polite Sam things.

You dare to glance back at your kitchen, then swivel to squint at him. “Did you… do my dishes?”

Sam lets his hands relax into his lap and nods, shy. He’s looking at you in a way he never really has before, eyes big and soul-rending. “…Yeah. I used the key you gave me to get in… Hope that’s okay.”

There’s another long pause. Usually when you stare at Sam, he doesn’t stare so intensely back, but you share a weird mutual moment where you just stand there and take each other in. It’s so obvious it’s painful, but if he’s doing it then you feel entitled to devour him with your eyes too.

“I got, uh, bored. Waiting for you,” Sam clarifies. “Thought I’d make myself useful.”

Sam stands from the bed. For a second you think he’s heading straight for you, but he moves toward the dresser behind you, kindly tucking the holy water back where it was stowed. You flit out of his way as fast as you can and set your weapons down on the closest available surface, feeling off-kilter. Why would he come here? Is he going to tell you that he changed his mind?

You hold onto the question, but you know it’s too out of character to hope for. Despair sinks into your gut like a rock in a pond. You know why Sam’s here. He would never make this decision without telling you first—without at least saying goodbye in person.

Your throat locks up with tears.

Behind you, Sam hums, “You changed your hair.”

Right. You’d altered it to be more undercover. You resist the urge to reach up and play with your hair, or give in to any of the fluttery feelings you always feel around Sam. “It’s safer.” Tightly, you ask him, “What are you doing here?”

Sam drags a long breath through his nose. You clutch the end of your bookshelf, your chest crumpling with misery. Please don’t say it. Please, please, lie to me if you have to.

“...I’m not taking the jump,” Sam breathes.

There’s more that he says after that. He talks about how you and Dean are right, and how, surely, after everything that the three of you have been through, there’s got to be another way to end this. You’ve always found another way in the past. Sam explains all this to you in a sure, quiet voice, like this is something he’s thought about for a long time, but you barely hear him after those first words. There’s this persistent tension in your chest that’s telling you that there’s something wrong here, but you don’t care—you don’t give a single fucking shit, because Sam—Sam isn’t saying yes. Sam’s staying.

“…are other ways I can make up for the mistakes I made,” he’s telling you, scrambling to fill the nagging silence.

You take a moment to force back your tears, and Sam, nervously, keeps talking.

He swallows, trying to smile. “I-I would’ve called and told you, but something tells me you wouldn’t have picked up.”

When you’ve got your bearings back, you push away from your bookshelf and turn to face him. Your legs are so leaden that you feel as if you have to physically pick up your body and drop it down the other direction, but you manage it. “What… what made you change your mind?”

Sam gets one look at your face and wilts with guilt. He doesn’t answer your question in words—just shoves his hands in his pockets and stares down at his feet, then around your room, as if his reason was in the air with the two of you. In the apartment. His eyes flicker over you just once, and you understand. Seeing you leave really had scared him.

“Be careful,” you start to joke with him, “you start validating my childish reactions and we’re gonna have a whole new set of problems on our hands.”

Sam scoffs. “It wasn’t childish to run away.”

You raise an eyebrow at his word choice, which gets an honest-to-god laugh out of him. A real good Sam Winchester laugh, dimples and all. The last dregs of anxiety in your gut melt at the sound, and Sam reassures you, shrugging, “You needed to get out. In case you forgot, I kind of invented wanting to get out. I understand. I really do.”

You know that he does. That’s not exactly going to stop you from feeling guilty about ditching them, but at least it kicked some sense into him. God. For the last five or six years, your every moment had been spent with Sam and his brother. Even just a couple weeks without him had drained you, and having him back only makes those feelings more clear. Sam’s presence commands the space in a way that turns your shitty, undecorated bedroom into someplace magical, someplace good and safe and warm, and just seeing him standing there draws the ache out of your spine.

Your reach out for his sleeve. Somehow, he’s more real than ever, a tangible person instead of the memory you’ve chased for so long.

“You’re really not saying yes?”

Sam unwinds your hand from the fabric so he can hold it instead, your fingers scooped in his fingers. You’re given a firm squeeze and are hypnotized by him in an instant, the world narrowing down to this moment between just him and just you.

Sam looks into your eyes when he promises, “I’m not going anywhere.”

The tears you’d resisted before return in one big, merciless wave. You’re so tired and the rain was so fucking cold and you’re so sick of being scared that Sam, thank god, Sam, is everything you could possibly need. He’s not going anywhere. Before you can stop yourself you’re clutching him for dear life, shoving your face in his shirt and crushing his body against yours. These last few weeks have submerged you in survival mode, and you don’t realize how deep until Sam pulls you out of the current. He’s warm and dry, and when you inhale to sob he smells like a 24-hour-laundromat, the Impala, and home home home. You could’ve lost that. You could’ve lost him.

“Th-thank you,” you choke out at nothing in particular, “thank you.”

You’ve cried a lot this week, so there are not many tears left to shed. Still, Sam holds you through all of them, swaying back and forth with you and cooing in your ear. You hear him sniffling too. When you’re both all sobbed out, you pull back to tell him you love him, to remind him of all the things he needs to hear, but Sam strangely doesn’t let you. The second he feels you pull away he clutches you back against him, and you get the uneasy impression that you’ve been comforting him more than he’s been comforting you. His whole body’s shaking.

Sam hugs you for longer than he ever has before. It’s a little worrying, but you’ve both needed it so much that you don’t even complain.

After a while, Sam slips back, and in traditional Winchester fashion tries to play off his vulnerability. He’s always been a dead-silent crier, so you have zero way to gauge how bad things are until you see his face. He looks like he’d sobbed his heart out. Your shirt is still wet from the rain, but even then you can feel Sam’s tears soaking your shoulder. Saying anything about it will just embarrass him, though.

“...I-I, uh,” you lick the tears off your lips, mumbling, “I don’t know bout’ you, but I’m beat. Do you have somewhere you gotta be, or,” you add hopefully, “or can you stick around?”

This is the part where Sam will start coaxing you to drive back with him to where he and Dean are holed up, you’re sure of it. You’re already plotting in your head what to pack and what to take, but Sam never brings it up. He doesn’t worry about tomorrow yet.

He presses his lips together. “I was hoping I could stay here tonight, actually.”

This is an even better answer. You’re nodding before he’s even finished the thought, stroking your hand down his chest. It twists your gut in knots to see him like this, so you start to steer the conversation toward something more playful, something less daunting to think about.

“You’re lucky I like you then,” you smirk. Somehow, you manage to peel yourself out of his bubble and teeter toward your dresser, scrubbing the tears off your face. “Make yourself comfortable. I dunno about you, but I’m getting the fuck out of these work clothes, I’m freezing. Do you need anything to sleep in? I’ve got at least five years of your stolen shirts in here.”

You hear him ease himself down on the end of your bed again, but there’s no sassy retort, sly comment, or any sort of line about you and your stealing habits. Instead, sweet and simple, he says, “I’ll just sleep in this. You can have them.”

Okay. Weird.

Since he didn’t take the bait, you throw out another line and try again. This time, you kick off your shoes, open a drawer, and turn back to him with two of his shirts in hand. “Really?” You wave them teasingly in the air. “You sure?”

They are some of his best shirts, easy. You’re not a cheap thief. The first is a holey, feather-soft Red Hot Chili Peppers tee, and the second is a deep maroon Stanford sweater. He has so few artifacts from that time in his life that there’s no way he won’t want this one back. Right?

But Sam just gazes at you, his whole face soft and loving as he says, “You should wear the Stanford one. It looks good on you.”

Those old hot-shivery feelings for him seep down your spine, and you feel in real-time how your cheeks flood with heat. Damn, okay. Consider yourself wooed.

You’ve been down this road with Sam many, many times—enough to know when he’s flirting with you. The forbidden labels had never been thrown around, but. Well. Sam had been your first time, as well as the many other times after that.

He’s usually leagues more subtle than his brother, but for whatever reason he’s pouring it on by the truckload tonight. When you turn around he’s nothing but big, happy puppy eyes, waiting patiently for you at the end of the bed. (Like you’re his girlfriend. Like anything about this is normal at all, and you and Sam are going to tuck into bed together like it’s any other night). Fuck, you missed him.

The bathroom is only a few steps away, but this is Sam, so you decide to just throw on your pajamas right here. Your shirt is so wet that it hits the floor with a slap. It also takes some experience to wring yourself out of your denim-turned-cement jeans, so it’s not the sexiest show in the entire world. Still, Sam’s gaze traces sensual lines down your back. You would rather go to literal, actual hell than wear your bra for a minute longer, so the second you’re free of its death grip, a long happy sigh drains out of you. A similar dreamy sigh drains out of Sam. Dork.

“I will never get tired of that,” Sam murmurs. You expect to hear some kind of hunger there, but the timber of his voice bleeds with admiration and fondness.

There are very few ways to be a normal human being while Sam Winchester adores your nude body with his eyes. The best you can do is burst into flustered, giggly laughter and give him a good eyeroll, your entire face cooking like a stove burner.

“Alright, loverboy,” you scoff, “I’m gonna go brush my teeth and take my makeup off—”

“Can I help?” Sam asks.

You sputter out another laugh, confused. “You wanna brush my teeth for me?”

“No,” Sam shakes his head, smiling big, “Lemme take your makeup off for you.”

Okay. Weirder. But it’s sweet, and you like this side of him, so you decide to indulge his mood. “...Sure.”

You go about your night-time routine. Sam continues to be a weirdo, trailing you into the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe, and blinking slow endearing blinks at you as he… watches you brush your teeth. Just. Stands there, watching, utterly enamored with this little moment of domesticity with you. On the surface level you’re a little thrown off, but it falls under the category of Freaky Sam Things that made you catch feelings for him in the first place, so. You grin into your toothbrush the whole time.

When he’s satisfied by his little ogling fest, he drifts off to hunt around for your makeup wipes. Either you’re predictable or he knows you too well, because he finds them within seconds, and patiently sits back as you finish up your routine, watching you like you’ll disappear on him the moment he turns away. Click click, you feel inside you.

“Okay,” he says when you’re done. “Close your eyes.”

You do. You wait for the cool touch of the wipe on your face, but instead, Sam’s big, rough fingers find your chin and hold you still. It takes conscience effort to not melt into his touch like a cat in a square of sunlight. Your willpower is nothing on Sam’s, though, so you give in quickly, sinking into his hand and sighing through your nose. In gentle swipes, he cleans your face. It must be a nightmare of smeared mascara considering how you’d cried earlier… And yet Sam had still been so transfixed by you. He’s the fucking best.

Sam’s hand tilts your head from side to side to survey his handiwork. Pleased, he tosses the wipe in the trash and says, “There you go.”

You open your eyes and go to double-check his work in the mirror, but Sam hasn’t removed his hand from your chin, and you really, really don’t want him to. His thick thumb comes up and caresses under your lips. He looks at you like he loves you, and with all the honesty in the world, he utters, “...You are so pretty.”

…The only way for you to survive this is by throwing him a dry look. “You’re full of shit. What’s your game, Winchester?”

That earns you another authentic Sam laugh, along with a handsome boyish smile. “There’s no game. What are you talking about?”

You squint at him. Liar.

“This.” You gestured between the two of you, suspicious. “You’re mooning over me. Why are you mooning? Are you planning something?”

A ripple of discomfort rolls across Sam’s face, but it passes too fast for you to read. His hands go right back in his pockets and he leans into the doorframe again. “I’m just… happy we’re not fighting,” he confesses.

Oh. That makes sense. Sam hasn’t exactly made up with you like that before, but. These times change everyone. You ease up on your teasing and admit, “Me too.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you away,” Sam says, and far, far too seriously for your liking, he whispers, “I’m sorry for everything.”

Your answer slips right out of your mouth without hesitation. “I forgive you, stupid,” your brows furrow together. “And I’m sorry, too. I said some pretty shitty stuff back there.”

Sam wilts against the doorframe a little. “Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

A dull pulse of anger flares in your chest, which flickers out and dies not a second later. There’s so much you want to say to that.

It is so fucking unfair—biblically, cosmically unfair—that Sam, the good guy to end all good guys, thinks of himself this way. He is the kind of righteous they make saints out of. And yet he sits in your silly little bathroom in your shitty little apartment and gives you that look, the look that says, I deserve this and so much more. I deserve to rot in hell for all eternity. He gave you that exact look when he brought up saying yes. He gives it to you now, because Sam sees everything as a sin to serve penance for—freeing Lucifer from the cage and making you a little worried. He thinks he’s so evil, so beyond saving. It makes you want to get your fists in your shirt and just shake him. 

You’re good! You want to scream. Just for once in your life, listen to me! None of this is your fault!

There’s nothing you could say to him that would ever make him let go of his guilt. But, at the very least, you could help him forget about it for a while.

“You beat yourself up too much,” you scold. Then, softer, you add, “C’mere, Sammy.”

Sam does as told, planting himself right in front of you. God, he’s changed. You look him over with a bittersweet smile. He used to be so spindly. The last few years have filled him out, forcing his body into something ready for war. The hunt reached in and tore all sorts of things out of people, but you’d been wrong about what it’d ripped out of Sam. His optimism was still there, warm and humming in the tissue of his body, and just seeing it fills you with hope. He looks so different from the man you’d had all to yourself in that cabin, but you can feel that he’s still in there. He’s still your Sam.

You take his face in your hands, smoothing your thumbs into his dimples and quietly, needily rasping, “...Can I take care of you?”

Sam’s whole body shudders with relief. “Please, yes.”

The next few beats of this dance haven’t changed. Like always, Sam comes flying in with a big, smashing kiss that shatters any leftover barriers between you. You’re not Sam’s girlfriend and he’s not your boyfriend, but Sam makes you his with this kiss. (If only for a little while). Your noses mash together and his eyes squeeze shut and then everything is just Sam, Sam, Sam at every angle. His hands are at his sides then suddenly they’re all over you, taking two greedy handfuls of your waist under the Stanford sweater. He jams your hips against his and kisses you senseless, towering over you, surrounding you, so that when you pull back to gasp for breath your lungs are flooded with his familiar heady love potion.

Either he’s giving off some Poison Ivy-level pheromones, or your body is so familiar with these steps that it knows what comes after this kiss… because you’re instantly wet.

You realized a long time ago that you and Sam have sex a bit too often for it to be considered “casual,” but even if it was, Sam is not a casual kind of lay. After that first soul-stealing kiss, Sam stares you down like a four-course meal, spins you around, pushes you down chest-first onto the bathroom counter, drops to his knees—

—and shoves his face between your legs like it’s his goddamn job.

In the middle of all your surprised shrieking and squirming, Sam nuzzles his face into your panties and moans deep and bassy in his throat, “Yes.”

Like he’s won something. Like he’s been waiting weeks to do this. Holy fuck, you’ll never get tired of that.

The second you have even an atom of your reason back, you slap a hand over your mouth. Neighbors! Sam has already forgotten what neighbors are, and is holy-mission-from-god-determined to make you noisy. He’s extra hungry for it tonight, too. You squeak out his name, not so much in shock, but more because having those huge hands squeezing where your ass starts to round out tends to produce a reaction, and Sam rumbles like a lawnmower in approval. Holy fuck.

He doesn’t have to ask you to spread your legs. One of the hands appreciating your ass slides between your thighs, cupping you through your underwear, and you have to try not to squeal when the meaty pad of Sam’s thumb swipes across your clothed folds. He presses a big kiss in that exact spot as he drags your panties down your legs, and it’s a weirdly sweet gesture that makes your heart and your belly flutter with shivery heat. Fuck. Fuck, you missed him so much.

The first few times Sam had sprung this move on you, you hadn’t exactly had enough time to fully rev up. But Sam is deadly efficient in and out of the bedroom, so he makes a point to get you extra wet (for him) with his spit, laving his hot, slippery tongue over you in one long swipe. He eats you out with all the obscene, noisy enjoyment of somebody gorging on the juiciest fruit they’ve ever tasted. Even you are scandalized.

It becomes embarrassingly clear that covering your mouth isn’t going to keep Sam from what he wants. The high, desperate moan you try to stifle only makes him work harder. You press an arm flat to the counter and bury your face in it for strength, since you’re weak and whimpering for him already. 

Sam was good in bed when you met him. But, by nature, he is a relentless and avid learner, and it’s been five whole years since he put his mouth on you for the first time. Now, Sam is a certified pussy-eating weapon. He knows your body better than anyone possibly could. You’re over the edge in a minute flat.

Your climax flies through you in one whizzing, sparking rush, then keeps flying, until your body’s squeezing out little squeaky pleas for mercy of its own accord. This is his favorite part. You claw into the countertop and wail for it, pushing at the floor in your socks to gain any sort of leverage. To press closer? To squirm away? You have zero fucking clue, since the thought part of your brain has been blasted into a smoking crater. Sam wraps a big arm around your spasming thigh to pin you open, and holy fucking shit, could that man suck the chrome off a tailpipe. His mouth is a whirlwind of licking and suction just on the right side of oh fuck too much that makes your skin feel like it’s fizzing. You are a thread that he’s just pulling and pulling until you’re so thin you could snap into nothing—

You wait for the moment when Sam pops off you, stands up, and goes for his zipper, but he never does. He remains on the floor, determined to lick you through overstimulation and straight into round two. But that’s a whole minute you could spend with his dick inside you instead, and there’s no fucking way you’re wasting that. Not when he’s here and real and not going to say yes. Sam’s not going anywhere. He’s staying, he’s alive, and the world isn’t going to end tomorrow.

“No no no,” you bite out in one short, rattling breath. “S-Suh—Sam, please please—” An unexpected sob shreds out of you. “Miss you. Need you.”

You’re actually, genuinely crying, and not entirely in the fun sexed-out way. Sam backs up. He’s not even halfway standing when you wrench him up the rest of the way, straight into a desperate, maddening kiss. It’s a brutal cross of teeth and tongue. The need for body heat and skin and him burns through you like genuine bloodlust, so you cram yourself up against him with life-or-death urgency. You get your nails into him until you feel something like shirt fabric and viciously yank it over his head, waiting for the moment when he grabs your wrists or shoves you onto the bed o-or—or starts to blow off steam. Cause’ that’s what this is all about, right?

He drags your mouths apart. Sam pants, “Slow down.”

You stop.

This is. This is new.

There’s no slowing, with this. You both go and you keep going until there’s no more fuel in your tanks, and you crawl out of bed the next day feeling like you’ve beaten the rot out of each other. You’ve never once slowed down during this before, and as your wheels spin to a halt for the first time, reality filters back in around you.

Sam stares at you. His hair is all over the place. A patchy blush speckles up his heaving chest, burning in his ears and in his cheeks. Your slick shines on his lips and the bulb of his nose. He’s just standing there and fucking looking at you, but for whatever reason it feels like the color has seeped back into the world.

“S’okay. Gonna be okay,” Sam hushes, bleeding with sweetness.

He picks up your hands, moving you as if you were a delicate glass he was turning over in each palm. Each of your hands are kissed in the center (oh my fucking god) then wrapped around his neck, and when he has you in his bubble he scoops up your face and kisses you.

It’s a boyfriend kiss. Not a blowing off steam thing, or any other excuse the two of you have used to feel each other. A genuine, I’m your boyfriend and I love you sort of kiss, foreheads pressed together, noses touching, the whole nine yards. It’s the kind of kiss that’s meant to say something. Every inch of what he’s trying to tell you echoes through your body in one ringing smash, like you’re a big cymbal he’s taken a mallet to. 

He slips off your lips and hovers, bracing himself for impact. You suck in a rattling breath.

…Then you press up onto your tiptoes to give him a kiss of your own, just pressing your lips against his, unmoving. It’s undemanding; an answer. You try to find the words to describe the shift that’s occurred between you, and end up feeling stuttery and shivery and fucking elated. Romantic. It’s fucking romantic.

“Sammy,” you sob out.

“Shhh. C’mere,” Sam whispers, his voice throaty and whiskey smooth. “Lemme make it better.”

He tries to walk you straight back out of the bathroom and towards the bed, he really does, but you stop Sam every other step to overwhelm him with obsessed, affectionate kisses. God. His chapstick is all over your fucking mouth (along with your slick) and his hands are everywhere else, feeling instead of grabbing.

“You always do,” you breathe, and that might be the most honest thing you’ve ever said to him in bed.

Sam gets this quiet, pleased smile on his face. No matter how naked and turned-on you are, you’ve always got a snappy reply ready, and you’re about to throw one at him—until you’re fucking obliterated. He smoothes his palms down your arms. Your wrists are scooped up again. With all the tenderness on the planet, Sam slides in close, kisses your throat, and places both of your hands firmly on his belt.

“Take it off,” he rasps.

This. This isn’t the first time he’s given you that order. But knowing, feeling that he’s playing this all out like it’s more than a fling to him… that Sam’s gonna fuck you like you’re someone special to him… sweet jesus, it makes you lightheaded.

“Bossy,” your murmur, grinning.

You’re downright feverish going in to kiss him next. Sam parts your lips with a slow, sinful swipe of his tongue, and there must be a drop of psychic still in him, because suddenly you’re flooded with visions of that filthy mouth between your legs. You can still feel the ghost of him there, keeping you open with his thumbs as the blunt tip of his tongue pushes you somewhere vast and sparkly and wonderful. This is going to be even better.

He sounds like he’s praying when he says, “I just like to watch you.”

Muscle memory serves. You work his clasp open without peeking down and let it hang in his belt loops, mostly because it lets his jeans sling low on his hips in the most enticing way. His belly twitches at even the slightest touch of your hands; always so responsive. Sam drops his forehead on your shoulder to watch you work, and you take the rare opportunity to kiss the top of his head. This is one of your favorite parts. When his button is undone and his zipper’s down, you’re free to smooth your hand under his waistband and take a big handful of him.

You reach in and—squeeze. Sam’s hand snaps up to clutch your arm. His nails dig in, and he rocks forward onto his tiptoes to really dig into your touch. “Yes.”

It’s the kind of soft, needy sound that makes you want to smother him with kisses and hug him until he suffocates. Instead, you cooly purr into his hair, “So sensitive, Sammy.”

A hoarse, sharp laugh snaps out of him, which dissolves into a shuddering groan. You tug at his jeans until they’re somewhere you don’t care about anymore, and forget about everything else entirely at the sight of his cock. All these years of sneaking around with him have conditioned you. Just seeing the pretty speckling of dark hair that leads to it, then the real deal, hanging blood-hot and heavy between his legs, makes your tummy flip and your mouth water. One of a million embarrassing Sam-reactions you’ll have to bring to your grave.

You take his cock in your hand, trying to swallow back the slutty amount of saliva in your mouth. Sam whimpers. A real, desperate sound, with his nails stinging down your arms and everything.

“Know you wanted to slow down,” you struggle between open-mouthed pants, “b-but—can’t—don’t wanna wait—”

Sam physically curls towards you, his hips seizing into your hand and his arms hooking around your shoulders. You’re dragged in for a sloppy kiss so deep you swear it melds your souls together. Sam is just as affected, rumbling like a racecar in approval.

“Then don’t.” He begs.

If this was any other night, Sam would just take. You’d be face down and drilled halfway through the mattress by now, no preamble, all business. He got off and you got off and everyone was happy that way. Sam would want the room dark and you would hide your face in the bedding, the two of you eager to touch and experience but terrified of breaking the illusion. He’s so generous that you suppose he’s got to have at least one place in life where he’s selfish, and you’re happy to be his outlet for it, but.

You’ve never seen him take this way before.

He looks at you and he never really stops, transfixed. You don’t doubt you could walk in a circle around him and Sam’s eyes would follow you the whole way, his gaze oozing with longing and something else—resolution? Faith? You push him onto the bed, and he drops down as if hobbling into a pew for the first time, unsure how to clasp his hands in prayer because it’s only ever been something done in his head before.

You stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“God,” Sam utters, spellbound. 

You’re blushing so hard that you forget to be sexy as you crawl into his lap, but Sam doesn’t care, still giving you those big slow doe blinks to express his love. It’s so different from the Sam you know (yet also so deeply, deeply him) that you forget what it means to be sexy entirely. He coaxes you closer to plant tender kisses under your chin, and the plan to seductively peel off your sweater for him and flash him your tits blips out of existence.

You wait for the moment when Sam shreds the Stanford sweater off you. Instead, those wonderful fucking hands tease under the hem to squeeze your waist, and Sam croaks out between kisses, “Should wear this all the time. You’re beautiful in anything, but this… you’re… mmn.”

Your heart gives a pathetic flutter. You press mindless kisses against his mouth and rock your bare core down on his lap, because he’s never acted this way before and you don’t know how else to return the favor. “Not nearly as beautiful as you, Sammy.”

The only reaction you get from him is a single huff out of his nose, like it’s something he can’t commit a whole laugh to. Like none of that matters anymore, like it would never matter for Sam, because his body may be beautiful, but it hardly belongs to him anymore. God, you’re shitty at compliments.

You’re fucking wonderful, you suddenly want to tell him. A whole swarm of little truths and sweet nothings roars straight up to the surface of your mind, a whole sea of better things you could say to him, but then one of those perfect hands is slipping between your legs and Sam’s asking you in that perfect, tinted glass voice, “You still on the pill?”

“Yes, doctor,” you tease.

Another flood of sticky heat rushes between your legs, because that question is always a precursor to being pressed into and filled and stuffed end-to-end by Sam’s dick. The one barrier that doesn’t—didn’t exist between you.

“Good,” Sam sighs, relieved, grateful. He never turned down going raw in the past, but he’s downright starved for it right now. Closer closer closer, his whole body begs.

You’re tugged in by a big hand hooked around your back, and you fall right into Sam’s summer-warm, sweat-sticky chest, giggling. He loops both arms around your middle and teddy-bear squeezes even more laughter out of you. The only way to hold yourself up is by planting two hands on his shoulders… which turns into his cupping his neck… then caressing his face, because it’s impossible to be witness to that quiet boyish grin and not shower him in affection. There’s all these little freckles on him that you can only see up close. He feels good, mystical good, prophetic-chosen-one type good.

This is the moment. You can feel the blood in your body pounding between your legs, and Sam’s cock bumps not-so-innocently against your core as you kiss one another. Every shift of his hands sends your muscles clenching tight, bracing for impact, but Sam doesn’t push into you just yet.

Your confusion must be clear on your face, because he says, “Just let me feel you for a second.”

And, obviously, you’re not an idiot, so you let Sam feel you for as long as he pleases. For the next ten uninterrupted minutes, you makeout like lovesick teenagers, whimpering and sighing and swallowing every sound the other makes. You’d always pegged him as a romantic. But seeing it, feeling it, adds a whole new dimension to him you hadn’t realized you’d been craving.

By the time the pool of need in your gut has opened up into a blackhole, Sam has caressed or squeezed or kissed every part of you ten times over. He continues to be weird and obsessed with you. (So still in character, then). Sam even pinches the ends of your ears and smooths his thumbs over the bumps of your ankles, being sexy about it but also a little terrifying. He touches you like he’s never gonna see you again.

Around the time that Sam starts suckling marks into your neck and trying to tickle you under your arms, you giggle out, “O-Okay—okay! Enough—!”

“Enough what?” Sam cocks his head. His hand makes another dive for your belly, making you shriek and squirm with more giggles. You try to wriggle away to protect your tickling sides, but Sam’s too strong and you’re a little in love with him, so it’s easy for him to pull you flush against him and blow tingly-warm breaths beside your ear. He purrs, “You need it that badly?”

“Fucking yes! So quit torturing me,” you pant, and you’re pretty sure this grin is going to get stuck on your face.

Sam’s smile gets even bigger. “Only if you say please.”

Your attitude slips from your grip like water. Next time, you’ll play push and pull with him, but right now there needs to be a lot more pushing and pulling in a different context.

The words are out of your mouth in an instant. “Please, Sam.”

As reluctant as he is to stop teasing you, Sam’s a little in love, too. He leans back enough to fist his cock in one hand, and you can’t help how your breath hitches when Sam’s touch follows the curve of your ass to where you’re soaked and sensitive for him. Those thick, maddening fingers spread you open. The velvety tip of his cock finds your hole right away, and your legs nearly give out when Sam starts to swipe himself up and down your folds one dizzying stroke at a time. Back…. and forth. Up… and down. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Okay, fine…” He concedes, his eyes glittering with joy. “You’re just so cute when you act all tough.”

Maybe not all of your attitude is gone. You bark out a laugh, telling him, “I hate you.”

Sam presses down for the last time, then presses in. You don’t mean to look into his eyes when he fills you up, and that’s probably what does you in. Sam’s rosy face flutters and twists with pleasure, but he never stops looking at you, not even once, terrified to miss even a small moment. The long hitching moan that slips out of you makes his whole face darken with desire. You’re pulled onto him deeper and deeper and deeper until—click. Cue the angel choir.

Your fingers dig desperately into his hair. Sam curls into you in one slow pulling movement, a thread pulled taut, until his face is stuffed in your neck and his hands are mindlessly scrabbling down your back.

“God, I love you,” he moans.

Soon your pussy feels achy and hair-trigger-sensitive and beyond full, which could mean that you’re all the way on him. It’s impossible to tell, since the first full minute of having Sam’s dick inside you sends you straight to the moon every time, where everything falls in peaceful slow-motion and the whole world hums with cosmic, sparkling pressure. You shove your face into him and nuzzle in a daze, little ripples of electricity sparking up your spine.

…Wait.

“What?” You register, slow.

Sam is still clutching you for dear life, even if the moment’s slowed and you’re both comfortable. He hugs you full-bodied, nose in your neck, tilted forward, the kind of hug where he sways you side to side with joy. Sam sucks in a harsh breath. Can’t hold back anymore.

“I love you,” he gushes. The words burn out of him, declarative, overjoyed.

There’s so much you want to say to that. But then Sam digs his fingers into your ass and pulls you off his lap, only to gloriously sink you down the rest of the way, and. Fuck fuck fuck. His cock drags thick and hot against the pliant walls of your pussy. You couldn’t be any more full if you tried, clamping down on him with long, silky ripples of pressure that outline the shape of him inside you in obscene detail. It’s the kind of mind-blowing that’s beyond comprehension, beyond feeble human understanding. Your eyes squeeze shut and you whimper into his hair.

“God, I love you,” he chants again through grit teeth. “So much. So fucking much.”

You find his face with your hands and kiss him quiet, tasting the promise in his mouth. When you part and the two of you really start to move, you kiss him again, and again, whispering where only he can hear, “I-I love you too.”

It should scare you how easily the confession slips out. You should be terrified, because even if you live to see next week, or next month, or next year, even if Sam isn’t saying yes to Lucifer, those words are a death sentence. And yet.

“I-I miss you,” you choke out, “I need you.”

“Me too. So much,” Sam soothes, his voice tight and sharp with restraint. You know his instinct is to jackhammer up into you and never stop, but he puts in effort to resist, letting you both marinate in the wonderful, glistening, twitchy feeling of each other. His hands are rubbing your back and he is so fucking warm, turning the rain outside to steam.

He doesn’t bounce you on his dick. It’s more of a slow, cresting drag, waves stroking a beach. You don’t think you could handle much more than that, anyway—sometimes these positions make him feel big enough to pop you like a balloon. What you can’t fit on your own, your weight pushes you down onto anyway, turning your whole body into a big expanding bubble of pressure ready to burst at any moment. You clutch at his shoulders and just throb around him for a second.

“Nuh-uh,” Sam leans away, not letting you shove your face in him like you want. Instead, a big hand cups one side of your neck and keeps you in front of him. “Wanna see your face. Look at me. Look at me,” he insists, genuinely pleading.

When your eyes find his, that’s when he decides to snap up into you for real. You don’t even get a full look at him. The arm slung around your waist drags you up off your wobbling knees, then slams you down into a beautiful, endless white space popping with color.

“Sammy!” You choke.

That’s the magic word. You’re instantly thrust up into four more lightning-fast times, one-two-three-four, and hitch out four squeaky gasps to match. Sam’s eyes bore into yours with every beat, blazing with liquid love. For a second you wonder if you’ve fallen back into your rough routine again. But then words and thoughts melt out of your brain altogether, because Sam draws you into the tenderest, sweetest kiss human beings are capable of, fucking into you deep and smooth with that deeper, smoother voice, “Keep saying that.”

Sammy Sammy Sammy, you rattle out under your breath. Sam hisses out your name the exact same way.

You do your best to help him out a little, bobbing up and down in his lap, but’s a drop of water in the ocean for him. All Sam cares about is seeing your reaction. He soaks up everything you do like a sponge, moaning when you moan, gritting his teeth when you bite your lip, grinding up as you stir down. The weight of his eyes on you is so heavy that your skin stings in its wake. Again, it’s Sam’s brand of freak-sweetness that makes you get stupid notions in your head about wedding rings and anniversary presents. But that’s—

…something he knows about. Something he just said to you five minutes ago. Above the haze of bouncing, rhythmic pleasure, you’re flooded with relief. You can tell him! Holy fuck, you can tell him!

“I love you,” you gasp out again, and just saying it feels like it could save the world. “O-oh, god, Sam—”

The breath you have left is stolen from you by another fierce kiss from him, so passionate it lets you taste the bassy, happy hum that rumbles in Sam’s throat. You’re devoured by feverish kisses for a full minute, then Sam pops off you to sob, “So much—so fucking much, yes.”

He slips a hand between the two of you to thumb your clit, stirring in and never once stopping. Every so often he’ll brush up against where you’re hot and filled to the hilt with him, your bodies sliding together with slick, filthy noises that are so—so fucking much that your thighs cramp up, protesting the constant pistoning. But the pleasure is easily worth the burn. Your core booms with long echoes of pleasure that shudder through the trembling spiderwebs that make up your nerves. You make a move to lean back on your hands and switch up the angle, (since you’re a damn good cowgirl, thank you very much), but Sam refuses to stop kissing you. He physically pulls you back in with a hand fished around your neck and kisses you breathless, determined to pound you to your climax one thorough snap of his hips at a time.

“So beautiful,” Sam gushes. His voice is hoarse and thready, like he’s moments away from bursting into tears of pure desire.

You smooth your hands down his flushed cheeks, telling him between huffy moans, “It’s okay, s’ okay, Sammy… so pretty… love you so much…”

You feel him pull the Stanford sweater up over your ass and out of his way, exposing more, more, more of your bare skin for him to touch. Sam palms the slope of your back and your belly in a daze, but that’s still not enough—he’ll never be satisfied with how little of you he’s had. He wants more. He wants forever. You embrace each other to the fullest, cheeks smushed together, chests flush, his parted lips claiming your throat, making you his—but. Sam’s breath ratchets up. Not enough not enough not enough—

In one ragged motion, Sam rolls you both over, tossing you back-first onto the bedding and smothering you with his weight.

A squeal of delight jumps out of you. “Hey!”

If Sam wasn’t all over you before, then he literally is now, dropping onto his elbows so he can cup your face in both hands and surround you completely. “Sorry,” he croaks, “need you. Need to fill you up.”

You whisper against his lips, “Then fill me up already.”

His thumbs press into your cheeks a little. Sam’s breath fans across your face, throttled by the lump in his throat.

“Tell me you love me again.”

Um. You don’t exactly have the sexy heat of the moment to hide behind this time, but you still want to say it for him. His eyes swim with something unreadable. Desire and love, enough love to put a lump in your throat too, but a third thing also. It worries you.

You bring your hands up to stroke his wrists, and give a bit too much of your soul to him when you promise, “...I love you, Sam.”

The words hit him like a bullet. Sam shudders from head to toe, unable to reign himself in any longer, and plants a long, surging kiss on your mouth that makes your belly flash with nuclear levels of lust. He squirms his hands underneath your body so he can cradle you against him—genuinely cradling, one palm cupping the back of your neck—and then burrows into you face-first, groaning your name as his cock nestles itself as deep as it can go.

With all of his weight on top of you, you couldn’t move if you wanted to. You caress and kiss and dig your nails into him, and somewhere along the way you’re given a dose of whatever has made him fucking insane for you right now. It fogs your head and turns your reason to ash, so when Sam returns to ruining you for any other man, you whimper, “Please don’t leave me.”

“Oh, baby,” Sam hiccups out, and something strange hangs in his voice.

You would ask him what’s wrong, but the shuddering, flimsy scraps left of your brain are busy being blasted all over by white-hot pleasure. Everything scorches. Sam’s bare skin and his breath and his hands feel fucking molten, melting you down like hot glass. You’re pinned down in every possible way, and it pushes the sinking, gorgeous pressure inside you all over your body, like it’s not just Sam’s cock filling you up, but him, just him, the source of all good in the world. Holy fucking fuck. His hips glide back and then thud back into you again and again and again. You get why it’s called making love, now. You can taste your love for him in the back of your throat, feel it sitting in a sticky film on your skin. It hangs like humidity in the air of your apartment. And jesus christ, it bleeds from Sam, glowing off him like fucking radiation.

When you’re shamelessly wailing gut-deep in ecstasy, Sam peels himself off you. He forces himself to sit up. His chest putters up and down with desperate little breaths, and a gloriously big hand scoops under your thigh and welds it against your chest. Whatever he sees from this new angle—probably your wet, abused pussy stretched tight around the full base of his cock—makes Sam gape, utterly transfixed. You watch as his mouth falls open, and then those dark, soul-swallowing eyes crawl up your body to meet yours.

“Keep lookin’ at me,” Sam rasps.

Even if he doesn’t sway your opinion with a few dizzying, stomach-deep drags of his cock, (which he does), you’re convinced. You lock eyes with him—and then suddenly feel stupid for not watching him the whole time. A long curl of hair hangs in his eyes and sways as he fucks into you. His expression flutters with these sinful little giveaways, exposing just how starved he is for you, how in love. Maybe if you’d looked back sometime in the past five years, that’s what you would’ve seen: how much this has always meant to him. He searches your face for the same pleasure, obsessed with his effect on you. 

“Fuck,” you shudder out. “C-could cum just watchin’ you, Sammy.”

“That’s right,” he hisses, and you’ve never heard him sound so damn happy. “Cum for me. Please. Look so pretty when you do.”

Usually, when he makes you cum, it’s the roughest part of the whole act. He’d get both your wrists pretzeled behind your back and pinned viciously in one of his hands, and that’s when you’d know the big finish was coming. His pace would go from bouncing to bruising. But this Sam, your Sam, would stop time if he could, so he slows down even further, winding you closer and closer to the top of the mountain with little figure-eights of his hips. He gazes down at you the same way you’re sure you must gaze up at him. Beautiful, he murmurs under his breath.

You utter another, tight, almost-sob of, “love you so much, Sammy,” and his dick twitches wildly shoved in you to the hilt.

“Ohh—shit,” he chokes out, and his other hand snaps desperately towards yours on the bed. They find each other easily, and you squeeze his hand with everything you’ve got, infusing in him all the love he’s infused in you.

The slow, mounting tsunami of perfection you’ve been moving towards finally overcomes you, and in one long gorgeous slippery rush you cum for Sam. And because your life is a movie—he cums for you too. He rocks faster and falls forward to kiss you, your faces pressed together, your mouths slotting against each other, your pussy squeezing down on him in golden rippling strokes. Sam hisses your name out between his teeth as he cums. You’re lanced straight through by a whole fucking universe of fluttering, flickering pleasure. To be honest, you’re a little pissed about it—because it’s the best fucking orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, and it’s all because Sam raggedly chants those words to you again and again, laying sloppy, obsessive, head-over-heel kisses all over your face. Love you love you so much baby you feel so good squeezin’ down on me.

You could’ve had this ages ago. How much more time could you have had with him, if you had just stopped being stupid?

Sam’s crazed, sobbing, hitching I love yous somehow become, in true Sam fashion, a low spiral of thank yous. He lays there and clutches you until there’s a Sam-shaped imprint in your body. You’re pretty sure he would stay inside you all night if he could, but you coax him into some cuddling instead, since you both are in desperate need. It’s. It’s new, but it feels cleansing in the holy way.

What feels like hours later, your brain dimly connects to the rest of your body. You’re halfway through detangling Sam’s hair with your fingers as he hides face-first in your chest, pretending he’s not embarrassed that he cried. At least, that’s what you assume. The Winchester mind is a mysterious one, and as much as you would hope to know what Sam’s thinking, the slow hand drawing circles on your hip tells you nothing. Is he shy that he got emotional? That seems silly, since you both sobbed into each other earlier. Is he embarrassed about everything he confessed? Does he regret it?

Just when your train of thought really starts to take the curves of your spiral hard, Sam tiredly croaks into your neck, “I meant what I said, y’know.”

He draws in a lungful of your perfume through his nose, soaking up as much of you as he can possibly get. His hands smooth over your body, innocent and loving, caressing you, memorizing you, begging silently for forgiveness. 

Sam is a dead-silent crier. But you hear him sniffle as he gushes, “God, I love you.”

Maybe if you hadn’t been so tired, you would’ve picked up on it. Or maybe you’d heard it in his voice, seen it, something, and ignored it, hoping it was something else. Everything he felt, he put into a teeny, unmarked box that he’d bury god knows where, far from where anybody could be hurt by it. Sam didn’t—he wouldn’t say that to you. Not unless it was the last time he ever could. He would feel it, but it’d go right into that box where it couldn’t hurt you. You should’ve known.

Lie to me, you’d begged him. 

…And Sam had.

_

The dull realization that you are awake sets in around noon. Noon as in after-noon, well past when you’re normally up and at em’. When you wonder why the hell you slept in so late, you remember last night’s rain, thrashing against the windows all night, and Sam, his face haloed by lamplight and bleeding with quiet resolution.

Sam. Alive, and not going to say yes.

He’d been the one to keep you up all night. With his mouth and his hands, yes, but then afterward he’d been hellbent on talking. Just… talking. You’d been sluggish and cozy and sated after having sex, but no matter how close you came to falling asleep, Sam wouldn’t let it happen. For two straight hours he asked you every question he could come up with to keep you up with him.

Do you remember when we met? Cause’ I do. Do you remember what I said to you? Do you remember what you thought about me? I remember thinking how similar we were, y’know, how much we’d get along. You were so pretty… my whole face went red every time you looked at me. Do you remember…?

Being cuddled, kissed, and protected by the man you love really tempts a girl to doze off, too, so this was not an easy battle. But Sam persisted. He studied your face intently, uttering I love yous even when sleep started to pull you under. Hearing any Winchester drop those words on you still blew your fucking mind, to be honest. Sam especially. But it was romantic as it was worrying, so you’d shut him up with a kiss goodnight and echoed it back to him. Love you, Sammy. It was probably just an anxiety thing, you assumed—Sam, for some fucking reason, was a pretty insecure guy, so you imagined that was his way of making sure you wanted all of this. He seemed… scared. He wasn’t used to being wanted.

The apocalypse was still on. Maybe the world would end tomorrow, or maybe you’d get lucky and live a whole lifetime with Sam. Regardless, he’s never saying yes to Lucifer, and that alone means that there’s still hope for the future. You’re going to spend every second of it making Sam feel wanted.

Sitting up in bed, you scrubbed at your sleepy face with the heel of your hand and stared around the room. Sam was physically incapable of staying asleep after five in the morning, so the familiar evidence of his military-efficient morning routine was all over the place. You smiled to yourself. He’d picked up after the two of you, and had tucked another blanket over you in your sleep. Stupid chivalrous dumbass.

To think, you’d been terrified you’d never see him again just last night.

You push out of bed, only to almost buckle onto the carpet rag-doll style. Even being torturously gentle, that man manages to make you sore. With a very, very happy groan, you hop (and wince) into some clean underwear, then traipse out into your kitchen to show that dork who’s boss.

“Dammit, Samuel, you’re not my maid—” you start to say, but of course, this is Sam, who wouldn’t miss a morning run for anything. Right. That explains your empty kitchen.

…But it’s afternoon. Sam would be back by now. Your gut prickles with a bad feeling, and you superstitiously sweep your apartment, looking for him. His clothes from last night are still sitting in your hamper, his shirt folded neatly in your dresser and his watch on your nightstand. A spike of nausea rolls through you seeing that his jacket is gone—and his boots. But his duffle—it’s. It’s still on your kitchen table. It looks a little smaller than usual, but his books and his laptop are still inside. He probably just ran out to run some silly errand for you, determined to make up for worrying you so much. Yeah.

You force your hunter’s paranoia down to a simmer, padding over to your breakfast table. There’s a big ol’ note smack dab in the center of it, perched on his half-open duffle bag, and you start to play with one of the bracelets Sam left behind as you pick it up.

You cross your fingers, smiling ear-to-ear. “C’mon. All bets on breakfast. Please be getting me breakfast, please be getting me breakfast—”

…That’s not what the note says.

You read it.

Then you read it again, and the hammer falls, crushing the breath out of you and doubling you over the kitchen table. You read the note for the third time, needing to be sure, and the thin sliver of hope you had—maybe you’d just read it wrong, m-maybe he was fine—turns to ash. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

You’re fighting back a surge of ugly, choking tears in an instant. He’s… Sam… he…

Your whole apartment lingers with the heat and goodness of him, like he’d been here just minutes ago. Just seconds. Even your clothes still smell like Sam. Just inhaling it tears chunks out of your reason, like—like you’d just missed him. Clawing around for something to do, you pace in a daze between your bedroom and the front door, desperate to recreate the moment you realized he was gone. You’re still just in the Stanford sweater and your underwear, but you don’t give a single shit and go careening out into the hall, stalking up and down your floor for him—because, b-because Sam wouldn’t, he wouldn’t do that to you—he would tell you first, he would never leave you in the dark like this—

…But you know Sam. And if it meant fixing his mistakes, saving you, saving everyone… Then he’d say yes in a heartbeat.

“These belong to you. You deserve a world to live in. I’m sorry - Sam.”

- tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1@lacilou@cevans-winchester @leigh70@ seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl2 @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoon @poeticsorcery @deansapplepie @rennydenny @babydollfoster @badlandsbrunette @hallecarey1

[jeongin-lvr]

This's kinda freaky but hear me out!!

Skz member#1 fuck reader and film it to send it to skz member#2 who is her boyfriend.

Skz member#1 was fwb w/ reader but she ended it cause she has a boyfriend now, and skz member#1 is jealous of skz member#2 and wants him to know who owns that pussy.

(I'm kinda into that type of things, lol)

immediately yes pls… my guilty pleasure is shit like this >< makes me think of hanji & felix for some reason :p

Jisung wasn’t having it. You were his— originally, at least. Sure, he didn’t get to call you his girlfriend or give you his last name, but everyone knew you were his. He thought you knew as well. But then he found out you got yourself a boyfriend and suddenly he was gritting his teeth fuming. How could you? How dare you? And the fact that you still kept his number in your phone… the same contact, the same random texts at night. Oh, Jisung was going insane. He knew you still wanted him; he knew he’s the only one who could have you, and he knew you knew that very well. Yet, you were still posting pictures of your “perfect, pretty boyfriend.” You were still telling everyone he was amazing.

Jisung wondered why you were even wasting your time. He’s seen the pictures of your boyfriend— Felix. Even the name makes him scowl. Felix was too innocent looking, too kind, the way he held you in pictures was nothing like how Jisung held you. It was different, softer. It almost made Jisung laugh whenever he saw them. Was it jealousy? Maybe, but it was also smugness. His name was practically carved into you at this point, Felix was just an added accessory. Maybe it was sad how Jisung still waited by his phone every weekend, manifesting your call on his screen as he stared at it. Maybe he was the one who should be embarrassed, but he didn’t have it in him. He always found himself accepting the invitation to your house, to invitation to fuck you. It’s like the second he heard your voice he folded. The anger he felt for being the second choice dissipated and all he longed for was you— your momentary ecstasy. The only time when he can call you truly his. Maybe it’s pathetic, he’s beginning to believe that he actually is, but he can’t help himself. It’s an incurable urge, an insatiable need.

“You’re mine— mine,” Jisung moans as he bends to your face, the flat, toned surface of his chest meeting yours, sweats mixing, eye contact unbearably toxic, “Say it to me.” God, he wants to cry, from the pleasure the absolute burn he feels when he sees you. He almost sounds angry, hissing out demands. You obey them always, your infidelity clearly not a worry in your brain. You breathlessly respond as his hips drive into you, again and again. Over and over in the same spot that he knows drives you mad. “I’m yours— Hannie, m’ all yours, please, baby!” Your nails dig into his shoulders but he doesn’t feel it, his big brown eyes shimmer down at you. “Louder.”

“I’m y-yours!” Your back arched off the sheets, Jisung’s fingertips sliding up your body and onto your throat and jaw. He touches you like lava on water, stinging and singeing. Burns of lust and bliss. Your vision is blurry and suddenly Jisung is wide awake, the pure rage becomes smugness again because, well, you just said it. You’re his. He knows it’s just temporary, but what if it didn’t have to be? Your perfect, little boyfriend might not like that his girlfriend is being fucked brainless by another man— he may not be aware of it now but Jisung was more than capable of changing that. So as your eyes cross and roll back, Jisung reaches for your phone, the screen alight with 3 messages from your boyfriend: “Where are you?” “I miss you.” “Come home soon.” And it almost makes him laugh. Oh, he knew this was evil, he knew this was an irreversible, bitter act. But so was cheating on your supposedly-perfect boyfriend.

Was it an act of jealousy or an act of revenge? Either way, he was doing it. So he opened your phone, placing the Face ID in front of your fucked-out face, snickering of how unaware you were. He laughs as your messages open and, of course, the chat was with Felix. The three messages practically burning into his retinas. He clicks the camera icon and doesn’t hesitate before clicking record. His hips relentless, but slowing now just so the camera wouldn’t shake too much. You blinked, callously breathing while your eyes stared at the ceiling above. “Baby, look at the camera,” Jisung commanded, your obedience was perfect, immediately looking curiously at the phone in front of your face. Your phone. You parted your lips to speak, only to feel the quick interjection of his cock thrust deep inside you, a moan falling from between your lips, “Who do you belong to?” Him. “Y-you.” Who? “M’ yours, Ji!” That’s right.

“Say to your boyfriend, baby, I’m sure he’ll be so happy to see you,” Jisung chuckles, tongue gliding over his teeth. You’re too fucked stupid to even reply, moaning as his thrusts became indecent, too quick and rough. Jisung doesn’t hesitate to press send, he flips you both around, situating you on his lap, a simple command of, “Fuck yourself on me, bub.” His eyes fixated on the screen; he watches the little grey dots appear and disappear, he watches so happily. He has it immortalized forever, you’re his. And now your boyfriend knows. Your boyfriend is well aware of what a cheating slut you are, the three dots appear again. And the message that sends makes Jisung laugh boisterously, throwing the phone down as his hips instantly reach for your waist, helping you bounce on his cock, “Felix said hi.”

[dazaiandhislovelybandages]

YOU WRITE FOR URAMICHI OMG ?!!! could i request uramichi boyfriend hcs if you don’t mind 🤞(sfw and nsfw if that’s okay) and btw i love ur writing for gintoki 💕💕

Boyfriend Headcanons for Uramichi

A/n: It's weird that you saw that I am writing for Uramichi but you didn't notice that I don't write smut. Anyways, thank you so much for the request, I hope it is to your liking and also thank you very much for your compliment on my writing for Gintoki even though I don't know which one you are referring to

Pairing: Uramichi Omota x reader

Warnings: mentions of depression, stress

First of all let's make one thing clear, Uramichi has no idea how he actually got together with you. He never expected it.

He tries very hard to be a good boyfriend, attentive to your needs. He finally found someone who wants to stay with him after all, he doesn't want to lose you

In the early stages of your relationship he tried to quite smoking. Yeah it never worked out

He did start working out more though, mostly whenever you are with him so you can watch him

On that note, he likes it when you take care of him, handing him a towel to wipe his sweat with, a water bottle to stay hydrated.

Surprisingly enough he doesn't get annoyed when you complain about him smoking, he has seen the way you look at him or to be more precise, the way you stare at him with such admiration and a hint of lust

Usually he doesn't like talking about his job or his coworkers but you have caught him smiling while talking about the kids. That has happened a solid 3 times.

Isn't very big on dates. Sure he won't mind going out to a nice restaurant or to see a movie once in a while but he prefers it when you come over to his place to chill

He isn't very big on pda either. The most he will do while the two of you are out is hold your hand or (if he is in a good mood) hold you by your waist

He isn't really touchy when the two of you are in private. He loves cuddles and hugs and he loves it when the two of you cuddle in bed but he also appreciates his personal space

Loves kissing you on the cheek and the forehead

He isn't very observant. Unless you make it pretty obvious that something is wrong he won't pick up on it

Because of that, communication in your relationship with Uramichi is the biggest key to make this whole thing work

That man is always so tired and under the weather that he constantly neglects himself and as much as he tries not to, sometimes he neglects you as well

Not once has he forgotten a date, let's be clear, but he might forget to ask how your day was or he might not be completely focused while the two of you are together

When he actually realises that what he is doing is wrong though, he will be quick to apologise

He also won't talk about what is bothering him unless you ask him directly and even then whether he will give you a clear answer or not is debated

That man is depressed. That is the only thing he will be clear about from the start. He wants to make sure that you know that there will be periods of time when he won't be himself and that it has nothing to do with you

Anyways, you get to see him often. In fact the two of you spend almost every night together to the point where half of his things are at your place and vice versa

He has a picture of you, a very very random one, that always looks at whenever he is at work

Uramichi doesn't say 'I love you' often. When he does, it is always followed by a kiss on the lips and a big warm hug with him practically trying to make your bodies one

[ren-the-gamer]

Tattoo Artist Hobie

A/N: this came to me yesterday for no reason, i have bad hobie brain rot :(((

Warnings: very mild sexual themes in the sfw portion, slapping of the ass, tattoos (obviously), readers gender is not described or their genitalia but i made this with a fem reader in mind, mention of piercings, hinted towards nipple piercings, vibrating tongue piercings, sluttiness, BRITISH PEOPLE :(((

SFW:

hobie would be a master at his craft

i think his canon self knows how to tattoo, or has atleast given himself on at one point.

he would own his own little shop, his prices would be cheap so that anyone could afford them.

imagine the way is hands would flex while holding the tattoo gun

he would bite his bottom lip in focus, you thought he wouldn't notice you staring at him.

but when he smirks and says. "a picture will last longer, love." you realize his eyes have been on you the whole time.

he has decided that he is your personal tattoo artist

he's normally not that possessive, but a tattooing session between the two of you has so much pull on him he refuses to let anyone in on that high he gets.

he would love to just put random things across your body, putting graffiti like designs down your arms fills him with a sense of pride

it's like he has marked you and let the world know who you belong to.

sometimes, when he's giving you a tattoo, you can feel the cool metal of his rings glide across your skin

you shiver and he holds your flesh in the area he's tattooing.

"be still for me, can you do that, dear?"

ugghh this man ya"ll

every time he's done with a tattoo, he kisses you where you just got it.

i highly doubt that it's sanitary but let's just pretend for the sake of head canons

if he's giving you a tattoo on your legs or butt, he'll give a little slap to tease you every now and then.

he has tattoos that from up and down his arms and one on his neck and chest

his favorite places to give you tattoos are more scandalous places.

like the ones in the pictures above.

NSFW:

imagine him holding you by your hip bone as he works, his face and hands so close to your privates

you can't help but stare at him, the way he's staring at your tummy makes you think the tattoo isn't the only thing he's focused on.

he can sense how tense you are, the vibrations from the tattoo gun are going straight to your core, every time he moves closer down you feel like he's edging you

if you every get his name tattooed, he wants it to be in the form of a tramp stamp

when he's fucking you from behind, he wants to watch the ink bounce and jiggle while he slams into you or slaps your ass.

also, most tattoo shops also have piercings.

if you ever got a piercing in a sensitive spot, he would kiss and suck on it to soothe you

totally not just because he's horny, totally.

when it heals though, he is ruthless.

he's gonna bite and pinch the area.

you whine and moan for him to stop, but holy shit it hurts so good.

he also has a tongue piercing, you already know where i'm going with this.

it def vibrates

his tongue will go numb from eating you out for so long and the constant vibrations.

okay back to him being a tattoo artist tho.

on rare occasions, he will want you to just strip completely naked and just adore your body

he would kiss and mark your body in hickeys

also, you two have def fucked at least once in his shop

and during working hours

[enbyfrogwrites]

oh lil headcannons cuz yuh

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa i think this is gonna be both nsfw and sfw- so chef kiss-

headcannons about mr gojo satoru (and him being your good pet)

tags: nsfw, pegging, oral both receiving, name calling (satoru getting called slut,,etc etc), sub!gojo, needy!gojo, reader is nb coded as per usual (afab cuz i am duh), reader is also FAT not chubby or chunky- we talkin 2 sum to do sum. reader is also mixed coded

there's some sfw but this is gonna be mostly nsfw i guess, anyways don't like? don't read. minors and ageless blogs dni PLEASE

word count: ~1.5k (yikes this is just rambling tho)

sfw:

-oh man gojo's whipped,, oh you mention something you was thinking about?? oh he's getting it for you even though you didn't ask him to

-he purposely gets you clothes that shows your tummy and stretch marks, more cuz he likes looking at them at any point when you two are in public than anything else

-gets upset when you have random bouts of depression and low esteem about your body. (you initially thought that he was shallow and didn't want to be seen with you out in public because of your apron belly and back rolls...he quickly shut that down)

-purposely holds you in front of his big ass mirror that he has in his room...for reasons...ahem,, he holds firmly as he murmurs softly in your ear about how much he loves you and what he loves to look at on you

-whenever he eats sweets, he always gets extra of what you've told him that you liked, always (he's not going to tell you, but you've found his stash of snacks that he has specifically for you)

-unconsciously he does in fact grab at your apron belly. not even like to feel it or anything,, it's like a comfort thing???? like you two watching tv and cuddling? grabs. you're washing dishes and he comes from behind you? your stomach is the first thing he holds when he wraps his arms around you

-your belly and thighs are gojo's fave place to lay on. hands down. your warmth radiates and he's addicted...

-also when people call him a chubby chaser, he immediately shuts it down. not that he's ashamed of you or anything, just the fact that he thinks it's stupid as hell to have a label. he fell in love with you for You, not your looks or shape, Duh.

-not to be an asshole, but when gojo first saw how physically strong you were when you defeated a curse with not a single scratch on you? he deadass was shocked lowkey; not in a way of fat shaming or anything just the fact that you're a shit ton stronger than he thought tbh

-if it happens that you're a teacher in the school, he would specifically visit your classroom to just be a bother. sitting in the back of the class and asking dumb questions so you can huff and pout your cheeks on your beautiful round cheeks at him.

-his favorite thing to do is make you smile. his wallpaper on his phone is when you two were on a date and he took a picture of you when you weren't paying attention.

-speaking of pictures, he gets so upset when you don't like to take pics of yourself. on multiple occasions when you said anything mentioning your double chin, your rolls, the way your stomach looks in your clothes, etc etc; gojo get's so frustrated with you. like how can you not see how perfect you look to him

-for the first time you spent the night at his place for whatever reason, you REFUSED to have any part of your skin showing, you wore pants, socks, a big ass tshirt. gojo literally was so heartbroken that when you two got up in the morning he had a discussion about how much he loves you.

uhhhhhhhhhhh i guess n//sfw neooooow:

-the first time you and gojo got intimate? you initially actually refused to be touched, all you did was constantly give him handjobs and blowjobs. tbh it was frustrating the hell out of the both of you, but you "didn't want to scare him off"

-when you finally actually slept with the poor man, you were a ball of nerves. you refused to take off your shirt at first, and only let him hit it from the back for a while.

-that shit deadass broke gojo's heart, almost to tears tbh. when you started to cry the first time you stood completely naked in front of him. it took time to calm you down, but gojo was so appalled to find out that you thought so low about yourself.

-after the first time he saw you naked, gojo purposely began Worshipping you, making sure that you Knew that he loved literally every single inch of your body

-when you finally built up the courage to ride him? GYAT DAYUM. to say gojo was in heaven? was an understatement. when he saw you, and your absolutely perfect body bouncing on his cock? to say he came so fast that he almost had a trolley horse??? he didn't wait to recover from his orgasm before flipping you on your back and fucking folded you in half and plowed you

-gojo's favorite thing he ever got for his birthday was you in lingerie. so serious. you never dressed up in anything "scandalous". you told him you felt too self-conscious and embarrassed. which gojo didn't want to push the issue since he at least got you to feel comfortable to be naked around him. (1/4)

-continuing his birthday. it was late at night when you two came from celebrating his birthday. you told him to sit on his bed while you wanted to go to his bathroom to "freshen up". He already had you dress in his favorite clothes so he was half hard the whole evening to be frank. but when you came out of his bathroom, cladded in delicate phthalo green lace, with matching garters and thigh highs; gojo almost passed out how fast his cock hardened. (2/4)

-how can you look so ethereal?? you felt so embarrassed because you were just standing there, and he was just...Staring at you. you began to shy away from gojo before he finally opened his mouth. when on closer inspection, you saw he had to wipe his face since he was drooling. (3/4)

-"no no no no please- no don't go-" the words fumble out of gojo's mouth, cracking at the end. his bright eyes round as saucers as he made his way to where you were by the bathroom door. he fell to his knees as he gazed on your body- your stretch marks and rolls on clear display. to say in the least when he begged where you got your set from- he BOUGHT THE WHOLE STORE (4/4 fin bday thing)

-his favorite thing he loves to eat is sweets-that's what he tells everyone. cake, cookies, mochi, fruit, you,, the last one he doesn't tell anyone else. but to him that's his favorite thing to eat, Ever. oh you had a bad day at work? he eats you out for forever. He had a bad day at work? he eats you out for forever. tbh when he's bored he kinda navigates himself towards your hole. it's so addicting to him. makes him hard just thinking of what you taste like- even when he's in the middle of a mission.

-oop he didn't tell Anyone. but You found out his secret. everyone depends on gojo; his friends, family, clan, students...everyone has to count on him. he's the strongest of course. not to you though. never to you... when you and him were bickering on what position to be in, your voice cut through him. you Demanded him to lay down and let you take control. (1/6 sub gojo)

-the Whimper that left that poor man's throat? was so Delectable. You felt your eyes blink owlishly at gojo before you immediately climb on top of him. your hands quickly coming up to his chest before going further up to the meaty parts of his shoulders. you swiftly put a lot of your weight on your hands, pinning gojo to the bed. (2/6)

-"ohhhh if i knew you were such a Slut, i've would've done this ages ago" the only noise that came out of your boyfriend's mouth a choked whine as you watched his already flushed face, turn even redder. his head involuntarily nodding at your words. (3/6)

-"y-yeah im your slut" was the only sentence gojo can muster before his pretty eyes screwed tight in embarrassment. OH? oh- now this is new. you didn't think he was soo...nasty. so needy and you can watch how your boyfriend unconsciously leaned into your touch like a man starved. (4/6)

-your right hand came up and grabbed gojo's face, squishing his cheeks as your face came closer to his. your boyfriend's eyes shot open at your harsh grip, and you can see his eyebrows furrow so cutely together. you also happen to notice that his cock bounced and twitched almost violently when you FORCED gojo to look you in your eyes (5/6)

-"prove it then. prove that you're my slut. i want you to cum as many times as i want you to, but you have to tell me Every time" well, everyone knew he was loud anyways but you were so glad that your boyfriend lived in his own home- his screams most definitely would've caused a noise complaint (6/6 sub gojo)

***so anyways i think i wrote enough bc i feel like this wasn't even that good. shrugs. anyways pls send me any good ideas to write about...i think im just a sub!jjk blog atp idk

[5cookiekitty]

*『4000 Years Of Longing』

Yandere alpha ahkmenrah × Omega F.Reader

Summary: or the one where you go to uncover a long lost pyramid only to discover there's something more sinister going on when people start to disappear at night , leaving a lingering scent that leaves both you and your omega in daze. Now it's a rase against the clock and the only means of escape is to figure out what's going on before the time runs out.

Tw: alpha/omega stuff , yandere , predator/prey type feel , Manhandling , death , reader dies but lives

Word count: 12.8k

Like most things are , your nightmare was paved with good intentions.

It started off with a call from your uncle Larry telling you of a new pyramid that was found. “It's a week's travel away , on foot , from the Merenkahre , Shepseheret , and kahmunrah.” Finding a new pyramid is a miracle within itself; finding a new one that is close to others is a gold mine. “They’re sending in a report now but I wanted to ask if you would like to come on the expedition with me? We’ll have a plan to get there though.” and were you to say no.

And that's how you ended up on the plane flying your way to cairo egypt.

“Hey uncle larry?” the man hummed and you could see out of the corner of your eye as he tilted his head to look at you from across the table. “It says here that they are finding pictures of kahmunrah and his parents inside the tomb?” you questioned and he nodded his head. “Yeah.” at his blank response you gave him a look as you gestured your hands towards the paper. “Yeah , go on and tell me what that's about.”

Larry looked up at you through his lashes “,you know of shepseheret and merenkahre other son right.” you nodded your head. “Yeah , the one that they still haven't found-oh hell.” it dawned on you what he meant “,they don't think it's him , do they?” he shrugged his shoulders as she took a sip of water.

“I mean , it's just speculation at this point , nothing can be confirmed until we find the actual chamber where the body is buried.” he sat up straighter as he grabbed the files from you hand gently “,even if it's not the lost son , whoever is buried here is either very important or very dangerous.” he flipped through the files before finding the page he wanted to before handing you back the file.

You read over it and furrowed your eyebrows. “A giant statue of a sphinx was found in front of the pyramid and two anubis statues were found deep within the structure.” you read outloud before flipping to the next page. “It also says that there's a small village not too far from the site but they seem to be scared to say anything?” you questioned as Larry nodded.

“Yeah , from what Dr.McPhee said , the locals warned him not to go digging through there or bad things would start to happen. They seem to regard the site as a religious place.” you raised an eyebrow “,ye are scared of it?” you questioned. “Terrorfied is more like it , they refuse to even interact with them unless necessary and even then they seem to be sniped.”

“Do we know why they seem so scared?'' You've seen enough movies to know that when locals warn of something , it's for a good reason. “He mentioned they said something on a tablet before he was forced to get off the phone.” you groaned.

“Even so , does this whole thing seem , i don't know , a little weird , off , to you?” you questioned “,I mean , think about it. We find a random pyramid that should have been found ages ago , it's somehow tied to the people in other pyramids and the locals seem to be scared as death of it.” you rattled “,not only that , we don't know if this person was regarded as someone respected or feared.”

“It's a little weird , yes , but when is ancient history not.” he did have a point , but this whole thing was making no sense whatsoever. It wasn't until Larry was placing his hand on yours did you realize you were scratching at your wrist , the one with your soulmate's name imprinted on the inner wrist more specifically.

“Does it still bother you?” the question caused you to look down at the mark in question. Written in a language , ancient Egyptian from what you were told as a child , and that no one knew or could read - was your soulmate's name. You huffed at it before pulling the sleeves of your shirt down to cover iit. “No , not anymore , if at all it's more of an annoyance than something for me to stress over now and days.” your uncle just looked at you , sad pitying eyes that made you wince in your head.

The last time he had given you that look had been when he took you in after your parents died.

“Anyway , we got 16 hours to kill.” you said as you pulled out a book from your satchel, "we have all the time to worry about the most horrible ways we might die.”

“Y/n!”

“I'm joking!” you said as you dodged hands swatting your way from across the table. Laughing , you pulled your legs to your chest as you began to read.

It would be eight hours later that you found yourself dozing off.

The last thing you remembered was reading the word sand.

…

light.

Heat wrapped around your body like a blanket as warmth seeped into your body. You were laying on something hot and rough as a breeze brushed over your skin. It didn't leave goosebumps , it was too hot for that , but it was enough for you to begin to groggily wake up and come to your senses.

Upon blinking your eyes fully open you notice the sand that was directly in front of your face. Confused and still dazed you began to sit up and drag a handful of sand onto your hands before watching the grains slip through your finger. On your knees you began to look around as confusion slowly started to set in.

How did you go from being on a plane to the middle of the desert?

Despite your situation , you noted , as you started to get up , that there was no panic in your body despite your wanting too. “Uncle?” you called despite yourself. You were not surprised when you didn't receive an answer. “What in the world happened?” you questioned out loud.

Looking over the place from where you were standing , you noticed sand dunes that seemed to be higher than the one you were standing on. If you get up there maybe you might have a better view point on where you were. So , you began to walk over.

But , you noticed , as you begin to get closer to the top of the sand dune , the more you begin to see a silhouette of a…Person? Squinting your eyes to try to see better , it was , in fact , a person standing at the top looking down at your form.

“y….n!”

“Hey! Hey! Excuse me!” you shouted as you began to scramble to where the person was. They did not move , in fact they started to walk closer to where you were. Smiling at the thought of being…helped in this citation , you gave a sigh of relief. Only to cry out when you had reopened your eyes to nothing. The person was gone , vanished.

“Wha-”

There was a hand wrapped around your throat before you realized what was going on. The scent of dark chocolate and burning firewood filled your senses as the other hand wrapped itself around your midsection. You were pulled back into a hard chest as the hand on your neck moved to grip your cheek.

“So close yet so far , omega.” A sweet as honey voice spoke “,Do they dare to deliver you on a silver platter , right into my loving grasp?” the voice hummed , darkness clear in his voice that had the omega in you shivering in anticipation. “I've waited 4000 years to have you , don't think I'll be letting you go so easily.” you tried to tell yourself that ‘kidnapping’ and ‘held against your will’ threats were not sweet nothings and loving words. Your omega seemed to think that these were perfectly normal and romantic things to say if the sweetening of your scent was anything to go by.

“y…n!”

“There's a good omega.” a finger was dragged across your cheek before a hand was cradling your face as if it was the most precious thing to ever exist. “No words will ever be able to describe how much I waited for this moment.”

“Y..n!”

“I'll see you soon…”

“Y/N!”

You awoke with a gasp as you bolted your body up. There were hands gripping on your form the moment you sat up abruptly , grounding you as you calmed your rapidly beating heart rate. Once you were calm enough down and rational enough to even get a thought in , your eyes began to travel the length of the arm to the person.

It was your uncle , worried worn eyes staring down at you with furrowed brows. “Are you ok?” you nodded your head “,yeah , just a really weird dream.” you clasped a hand to the one on your shoulder and pressed a quick kiss to it. “I'll be fine.” he gave your shoulders two firm squeezes , the gesture making you smile in remembrance of the meaning before letting go.

“Ok weird dream , we’re here. We got to take a hotel tonight but they’ll be sending some people over to get us to the site tomorrow.” with that he was walking off and you were quick to start packing up and grab your luggage.

“Shit!” you cursed yourself as your luggage fell from your hands and onto the ground.on the way down though iit managed to bmp into your form causing something to kick up from your shirt. You furrowed your eyebrows as you kneeled down to look at what had come off of you.

Brushing your finger over the luggage your confusion multiplied tenfold when you realized what it was.

Sand.

.

.

.

.

The next morning would come bright and early. Putting on some cargo pants , white tank top with a green button up shirt and the same color of green boots , you swung the brown satchel bag over your shoulder before grabbing at your luggage as you made your way downstairs to meet your uncle.

He was there , talking to someone in a suit who you maidenly recognized as dr.McPhee. “Ahh , doctor. Good to see you. I've seen you come to greet us on your own.” you said as the man turned around to look at you before giving out his hand. “Y/n , such a dear to see you considering I thought your uncle and cousin would have made you crazy by now.” laughing at Larry's grumble, you shook the doctor's hand as he gave you a slight pat on the back.

“I was just telling Larry that Chopper is ready for y'all. I won't be back at the site till Monday but I left it in great hands.” you nodded your head and with one last good by both you and your uncle were on the plane and being flown out.

It took a couple of hours but soon enough yall were landing not too far from a rural looking village.

“Is this the village?” you looked over at the people who were staring at yall from their houses. They didn't look run down like you thought - the people on the other hand looked as though they had seen better days with how old some of them were. “For people who are supposed to be scared of us they sure don't lack the ability to not stare.” you mumbled, causing Larry to smack you on the arm.

“Well , there goes our guide.” looking up at where your uncle had gestured , you smiled once you saw the familiar face. It was jedediah beaming at the both of you as he walked over in his cowboy gear. “Larry , good to see you my man.” he patted said man on the back before turning his attention to you. “Looking like a lovely flower as always y/n.” you both smiled before you rolled your eyes.

“Flattery will get you nowhere after I just found out what I did.” you said as the three of you began to walk away from the chopper and through the town. “When did you and octavius start dating?” you questioned causing the blind man to tilt down his head in an effort to hide his blush.

“Well-” But then you felt yourself being jerked back as your arm was grabbed. Before you could realize what was happening an old lady from the village was shoving your sleeve up to reveal your soulmate's name. “Hey!” Both Larry and jedediah were quick to snatch you from the lady, causing you to stumble away.

“And so she finally appears.” the lady said as she watched your uncle and jed drag you away , her unwavering eyes staring at your form even when you were far from her sight.

“Jed , what the hell man! I thought the dr said that they were too scared to even look at yall!” Larry exclaimed, causing Jed to side eye him. “Look man , i'm just as confused as you are.” he turned his attention to you. “You ain't hurt darling.” far used to jed nicknames , you nodded your head as you pulled your sleeve down.

“Yeah , just a little shake up but I'll be fine.” he nodded his head before facing back forward , arms sweeping in front of him as he gestured towards the horizon. “And he she is , ain't it a beauty.” it was.

The pyramid itself was huge and nearly triple the size of Merenkahre and Shepseheret one. Not only was that impressive , the huge sphynx that sat not too far from it was just as imposing and regal as you thought it would be. The site was not too far either and was filled to the brim with tents.

“How has this not been discovered till now , I mean , you would think something this big would have been found ages ago.” you breathly said as you began to make yall way to the camp. “Who knows. All that i do know is that were the ones who found it so were the ones who get to explore it.'' Jed said. It would take five more minutes before yall reached the camp site as jed grabbed a clipboard.

“Luckily for you darling , you seem to be the only girl here so you get a whole tent to yourself.” you raised an eyebrow at that , the question clear in the air. “We've had other chicks but they all seem to run off days later after they get here, something about nightmares.” he said “,unlike your niece here Larry , you get to share a tent with me and oct.” Larry squinched up his nose.

“How did that happen?”

“No one else wanted to sleep near the gays.” you snorted at your uncle's expression. Since yall had been walking around the camp the entire time y'all were talking it didt take long for you to reach your tent. “Here you go little missy. I'll come get you tomorrow but for today the days are all yours. If you need anything your uncle and I are just across from you.” he gestured towards their tent and you nodded your head , gave your uncle a kiss on the cheek , before you walked into the tent.

The next couple of hours you would spend putting your clothes up before going on to read a book right before you fell asleep and before you knew It the morning sun was waking you back up.

Tonight you didn't not dream of an alpha with a strangely addictive scent.

Just as promised , jed did come to get you that morning. You were putting on your clothes - tan cargo pants with a blue button long sleeve with a black crop top underneath it and black boots - when he made his presence known. “Hey little missy , fine if i come in.” you jumped a little before telling him he could , putting on a sun hat and sunglasses as he stepped in.

“We’re going to be heading into a new room they found right before yall got here.” you both started to exit the tent at which point you joined your uncle who was standing outside it. “It seems to be some kind of…game room.” he seemed really hesitant to say that last part. You dont blame him.

“Game room” you questioned as yall began to walk. “That's the best way to describe it. Ancient games , art supplies , hunting material. They're even some people buried there and from what we can tell , they might be entertainers and scholars.” he said as your eyebrows creased .

“So they wanted to keep the pharaoh entertained even after death.” your uncle said but jed just shook his head. “If that was the point all that stuff would have been buried in the chamber with them. The way they've buried it you would think that the damn person was still alive and kicking.” all this was weird. From the appearance of the pyramid to the game chamber-something was amiss.

You just didn't know what yet.

It took a good few minutes but soon enough all three of yall were standing in front of the giant pyramid. “It’s in such good condition.” you mumbled as your hand traced over the smooth rocks of the structure. “The sphinx too , I never exempted such a well reserved color of red.” you looked sad. With its body painted in a faded red and the stripes the color of yellow and blue , you could truly believe that this was made to protect a well loved pharaoh.

“Not just that either…” jed gestured for y'all to walk into the pyramid. You did so with a little pep only to stop dead in your tracks at the sight. The walls paint and pictures looked as though they just came out brand new. “Everything is well reserved in this place. '' You turned around at the sound of jeds voice , face bright and happy as excitement took over your body.

“I want to see the anubis guards.” jed smiled “we’ll pass them on our way to the room” a squeal escaped your lips as larry slightly shook his head and soon enough , yall were being led through the structure of the pyramid. “This is amazing , everything looks so well,” your uncle got a concerned look on his face as he spoke,early on. Jed are you sure there's no one living here?”

“Not one alive no.” he said as you entered a room that had a large ceiling. And 30 feet tall anubis statues. “Holy they’re huge.'' Larry breathed out and you nodded your head next to him. ‘What’s with this room anyway?’ he questioned. “It's the room directly in the middle of the pyramid. We believe that it leads to the pharaoh chambers , we just don't know where.”

Jeds hand suddenly clasped together as he smiled “ready to see the room?”

You spent hours in said room and by the time you had finally returned to your tent with the sun , you were ready to lay down and rest. Right before you were able to enter though , Jed caught your attention “,just so that you know we won't be able to go into the pyramid tomorrow. They’ll be trying to find the pharaoh's chambers and we don't know what will happen as they’re trying.” you huff at that a little “,don't start whining little lady , we'll be able to go over the artifacts that have been collected while they’re doing all that.”

Your eyes lit up and before long you were bidding your uncle and jed goodnight as you slipped fully into your tent. It wasn't very much a challenge to change if you took out the fact that you were trying to keep sand off your feet as you did so.

You just layed there , today's events going through your head as your eyebrows furrowed. ‘Still , nothing of this is adding up.’ you shook your head before those thoughts could continue. The last thing you needed was for you to be having a nightmare. You slowly allowed for your thoughts to cease as your eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

The next thing you know , nothing.

…

There was that warmth again as a familiar scent of dark chocolate and burning firewood filled your nose. You were slowly coming to , leaning into the unmoving and calming touch that just made you feel safe. You felt yourself getting tugged closer-

Hold on…

Tugged?

The realization caused your eyes to snap open. You found your back pressed against an upward leg as your legs draped over the other with an arm hung lazily around your midsection. Their movement out of your peripheral vision before another arm was wrapping around your shoulders to allow their finger to push your head to meet the owner of said finger.

The first thing that came to mind was how pretty chalky blue eyes looked on this man-was that hazel in there too?

The next thing that came to your mind was who this man was as the situation finally began to set in.

You tried to get up , really , you did , but no matter how much you willed your mind to do so it wouldn't listen. “W-who…?” was the one thing you were able to whisper out to this strangely attractive man that held you. He smiled , curly hair and dimples more noticeable now , as he drummed his fingers on your waist.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” you did not like the sound of that. “Did you enjoy the entertainment room? My people made sure it was stocked with the finest to entertain me.” The implications in that sentence were not lost to you. You could only stare up with wide blown eyes as silence engulfed the..room. You were in some kind of Egyptian room.

A kiss being pressed to your head brought your attention back to the problem at hand. He pulled you closer , arms wrapping tighter around your form as he laid his chin on top of your head. “I hope you've been enjoying your stay here , i know how difficult it can be to foreigners to combat the heat.'' Even if you wanted to answer , you couldt. Your mouth felt as though it was being shut by the force of God's hand.

There was silence , nothing but the sound of rustling curtains and sand blowing in the wind interacted with your ears. That was , until , You felt him move up , just enough to feel the hesitancy in his chin , before he spoke “,I'm sorry for what's going to happen,” he started to pet your hair as the room slowly filled with something dark “,In order for me to live some people are going to have to die.”

You don't know why that sentence felt foreboding when you knew this was a dream.

“I won't hurt those who you care about.” he spoke gently , as if he was only talking about the weather and not people's lives “,But i require a little something for me to keep this promise,” a ghost of lips against your ear “,can you do this one thing for me , my dearest.” a kiss to the underside of your ear made a shiver run through your body.

“So sensitive.” he mumbled before raising his head. He took your chin once more between his fingers as the both of you locked eyes. “When the time comes , you can't fight me.” a hand brushed away a silver fox hair that fell on your face before gently taking a cheek in the cusp of his hand. “Your mine , through actions and laws more ancient than the stars themselves , you , in all sense and logic , belong to me.”

His words , so possessive in their meaning , burned red hot as a memory , for a moment , surfaced. Your wrist tingled. He brought that same wrist up , moonlight giving way to the name written on it in all its glory. Be brought your wrist to his mouth , not kissing but merely allowing his lips to ghost the skin as he spoke. “To keep those you love alive , all that I ask for is your love.”

“You can't-'' but you were cut off as a hand slithered its way on your neck. A warning to keep your mouth shut if you know what's good for you. “You cant -i wont allow you to-”

“Allow me to? Dearest , do you even know who you're talking too.” amusement was clear in his voice. “You know nothing of what truly goes down here at night but that's only because I allow you to. Do not make me take away that bliss because you can't keep your mouth shut.'' He was still amused by this whole thing.

You , on the other hand , wanted this nightmare to be over with.

Then suddenly , you could feel movement return to your limbs. You were quick to jump out the man's arm and throw yourself across the room and away from him. “You wound me dearest.” his levity of the citation would have made your blood boil if you cared enough to take note of it. Right now , though , all you cared about was the way his eyes sharpened on your form pressed against the wall.

“You’ll soon enough will be throwing yourself into my arms.” he seemed all too delighted at the thought “,i cant wait till the day we meet face to face.” as he spoke , the world slowly started to become in a whirl of sand , engulfing your vision in gold and

“It's only a matter of time they find the chamber and release me , after all.”

When your eyes snapped open and you awoke to a gasp , the first thing you were able to pick upon was the sound of raucous outside your tent. You let the confusion overlap your fear that still lingered from the dream as you slipped your feet into some shoes and began to walk towards the flap.

Just when you were about to exit your uncle took a peak in making you chirp in shock. “Sorry , didn't mean to scare you.” he stepped in and took one look at your questioning gaze as his face fell , somber and looking 10 years older than what he truly was.

“What's going on?”

He hissed through his teeth and flinched back as if the question had punched him straight in his chest. “They found some skeletons. They believe them to be of some old grave robbers but they’ve already called the police just to be sure.”

What great news to wake up.

The police did show up and days later it did come to light that the skeletons were , in fact , some old grave robbers from 4000 years ago. From what they were able to examine it seemed they died of something giant impaling them through their chest…lovely.

Right now , you and your uncle were cleaning up the last of your tools from a new room that was found yesterday. A bathroom that was fit for royalty. “Im once more stating that this place was built for someone living and not a dead person.” jed threw a brush in your direction that you dodged. “You know what I'm saying is true.”

“Doest mean i want to hear it as were in said pyramid that might have been made for an alive person 4000 years in the future!” you snickered but decided he was right. You wouldn't want to hear about your work place possibly being haunted. “But to be honest , I'm starting to think we won't ever find that damn chamber.” jed grumbled as all three of you got up with tools in yall boxes y'all brought over.

“Jed, how long were yall here before you called us?” your uncle questioned as the three of yall walked into the room with the giant anubis statues. You never could figure out why they were placed against a wall instead of the entrance of the pyramid.

“The sites have been here for about 4 months.” That's a long time to not find the one thing the pyramids are famous for. “Even so , we felt as though we looked everywhere for the damn thing and yet…” jed gestured his head and shrugged his shoulders.

Begging to feel a little tired you leaned on the wall between the two giant guards as your form slumped against the rock. You didn't notice the way your wrist seemed to glow for an instant before you felt the wall behind you shift.

You scrambled up feeling the sharp edges shift behind you as you backed up towards your uncle and his friend.

“Y/n , what the hell!” your uncle said in shock as you squabbled at him.

“I didn't do this , I just leaned on the damn thing and it started to…what is it doing?” you didn't notice before but the room begins to fill with dust as all three of yall waited for it to clear. Other people must have heard the commotion as about five other people filed into the room.

Then , behind the smoke screen something golden begins to glow ever so slightly.

It wasn't until the dust cleared that you realized exactly what you had found.

Right in front of a golden simmering tablet was sarcophagus surrounded by riches and colorful painted walls.

The pharaoh's chambers have finally been found.

“What the fuck…” while the rets of yall were staring at the sarcophagus that sat in the middle of the room or the gleaming tablet , your uncle had been staring square arch that was now revealed.

Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach when you saw what had caught his attention. Even from afar you could recognize it.

One word , in a language no one could read , sat neatly along the top of the arch glaring down at you.

You recognize that word anywhere even if you didn't know what it meant.

It was the same one that had been on your wrist since you were little afterall.

•~•○•~•

You sat on your bed , staring blankly ahead as you robitally turned the page of the book you weren't even reading. After the second time of turning the page , only to have to go back cause your brain couldt process what was read , you threw the book on the nightstand before staring ahead once more.

You sat there , blank and feeling nothing , as silence engulfed the entirety of your tent. It was nearly night and If not for the sound of your uncle asking if he could come in you would have fallen asleep having nothing to think nor feel about. Sitting up you called for him to come in.

He stepped into the tent , a slight smile on his face as he greeted your “,hey kiddo. Brought you some soup to eat for dinner.” he held up a bowl to you which you gradually took as he sat on the edge of the bed right next to your legs. He watched you take a spoon fill and blow on it before he began to talk.

“So….how you’ve been?” you glared up at him from where you were sipping on your spoon. “Right , dumb question.” he gave a mournful laugh , one so depressing that it had you avoiding looking at him. “Do you need anything?” That was a difficult question.

You sat the bowl off to the side on the night dresser. “A hug.” your voice was quiet and raspy from all the crying and not-speaking you've been doing but he heard it all the same. He took you in his arms and suddenly , you were that scared little girl who he had just picked up after her parents had died. A tear slid down our face as you cuddled into your uncle's side , feeling warmth for the first time since you discovered that damn chamber 3 days ago.

“I'm for you ,if you need to vent or tell me anything I will listen without fail.” he swiped a finger across your cheek , a gentle gesture that had you smiling despite the situation. “I'm know i wasn't the best at taking care of you and nicky after your parents-”

“Don't say that,” you sat up and scooter so that your thigh was touching his “, you did the best you could at the moment. You didn't expect your brother to…” you took a deep breath “, die , no one does; and yet , despite the situation you were in , you still took me in and raised me as your own and that's something that I will forever be grateful for.” you reached over and took his hands in yours , tears streaming down your face at the two squeezes.

“Your parents would be proud.”

“Yeah , I know.” you reached up to wipe away at the wetness on your cheek. By doing so , though , you caught sight of that damn name and-

“y/n.” you looked up at the sound of your name being called. “,please , just-just stop looking at it. The wound is still fresh and while i know your going to have to deal with it at some point right now is not that.'' Still ,when you didn't say anything , he became concerned. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

He did not like the look in your eyes when you turned to him.

“I've been having these nightmares.” you began as Larry moved to have his whole body facing you as you leaned on the headboard of the bed frame. “Most of them are short with nothing going on , others not so much and yet in every instance a boy pops up. He's around my age and everytime i see him - my omega goes blank and suddenly it's a fight between my instincts and mind to get away from him.”

“That doest sound too bad.”

You sent a sad smile towards him “, it wouldt be if not for the death threats he keeps saying. One time he threatened to swallow the whole camp if I did not comply with his demand when he awoke.”

“When he awoke?” Larry noted the way you stiffened.

“I'm not sure , but the way he talks , it almost seems as though he was trapped somewhere that he wasn't able to leave. One time he mentioned a chamber opening.” your uncle's expression suddenly took on one of understanding.

“y/n , this boy , he didn't happen to have blue eyes , did he?” your eyes widen in horror.

“How do you know that?”

“What if i told you me and jed have been dreaming of the same person.”

That did not sound good.

You both sat in silence for a good second before springing out of bed at the same time. While you were not one to take after conspiracy theories and ghosts , the way things were starting to add up you were about to hop on the train. You went across to where your uncle and jed were stationed as Larry called out “,jed! We have a situation!”

“Like what?”

“y/n been dreaming of the same guy.” there was the sound of something falling followed by a curse before the tent flap flew open. Jed's face , normally so relaxed , seemed serious at the moment as he looked you over. He gestured his head for y'all to come in and soon enough you found yourself sitting on a bed with Jed leaning against a nightstand with Larry sitting on the bed.

“When did the dreams start?” jed questioned.

“When we were flying in from New york. I fell asleep and when I woke up I had sand covering my entire body.” you stated. “I wasn't able to see him the first time either but i do remember him smelling strongly of chocolate and firewood.'' The curse that left jeds mouth did not soothe your nerves.

“The first time i dreamt of him i got told thank you before , in nicer terms , told to fuck off and never come back.” Larry said.

“Lucky. I was threatened death if i didn't stop poking my nose where it didn't belong.'' Jed mumbled and you shot him a concerned look. “But after your arrival he seemed to have mellowed out and like Larry I got told to shove it…mostly.”

“Am I the only one not being threatened directly?” you said.

“Directly?” Larry raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yes , while he nevers threatens to harm me , he does threaten to harm others. Just the other da hee told me in lamest terms that I was his and therefore should love him and if I don't he’ll kill yall.” you said as jed groaned loudly.

“I did not sign up for this off brand mummy bullshit.'' Then , as if he remembered something , his head snapped up with wide eyes. “The mummy.” Jed turned to you with wide eyes. “y/n did he mention anything about the pharaoh chamber?”

You nodded your head “, yes he did. You don't think he's trying to raise that guy from the dead , do you?” you nervously asked.

“No.” jed shook his head and a sigh of relief left your mouth “i'm saying out dream guy is the pharaoh.” and there goes your breath once more. “I mean , it will all make sense. Why he wants us to leave , his obsessiveness with the chamber , his inability to do anything extremely harmful to you. Mr dream guy is that pharaoh.'' The silence that followed afterwards was tense.

“If he is our guy , the only thing that has been protecting us…” Larry trailed off.

“Has been gone for three days.” you finished for him. “What's stopping him from coming after everyone in camp imhotep 1999 style.” your words made both of them flinch.

“Nothing. And yet , nothing has happened.” Jed said.

“Mr.McPhee mentioned something about a tablet. Could the tablet the villagers were talking about be the one we found buried with him." Larry suggested.

“It could be. That still does not answer the question on why the fuck nothing has happened yet. We could all be crazy , but the chance we aren't…” jed eyes looked off to the side , distance yet concentrated at the same , and spoke “,We need to go look at that tablet.”

That's how you found yourself power walking into the artifact tent behind jed and larry.

“Put on some gloves , we don't want to damage anything more than possible.” Jed said as he handed each of you a pair, "we're going to do this quickly , the more we find out sooner the better.”

“Why didn't you leave after having the nightmares?'' Larry questioned as both of you stood off to the side while Jed gathered up the tablet.

“I thought I was just going crazy from the stress. Didn't know some dawn of the dead type shit might be going on until you showed up and started having the same thing happen.” he sat the tablet on the wooden table which yall crowded. “The little missy here confirmed my worst fear.”

“You really thought that the pyramid was haunted.” you questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“That wasn't my first assumption but when things start to happen the way they did you kinda start to believe in the superstitious stuff.” he opened the cloth that had been surrounding the tablet.

It still looked brand new as the day it was made - saved for the missing chunk at the bottom.

“Now then…what do we look for?” Larry questioned.

“I don't know , just look?'' Jed snapped and Larry , all to use his old friend's harsh way of speaking , did nothing but roll his eyes.

“Can y'all be adults for a second. Look!” you snapped , drawing both their attention to the symbol you were pointing to “, does that kinda look like a khonsu name.” you questioned as jed raised an eyebrow.

“The moon god , right?”

“Yeah.”

He furrowed his eyebrows “ok , so the tablet is connected to khonsu. But how does it tie back to why nothing has been going on?” you licked your lips , unsure as to why.

“This looks like the moon shining down on something.” Larry pointed to the next symbol.

“Moon light.” you said suddenly.

“What?”

Your eyes head snapped up to look at the other two “Why in that room nothing but darkness was able to touch it , meaning moonlight wasn't able to get in there. What if the reason why nothing has been happening is because the tablet was not on the moon or something.” you said.

“So we cover this thing up and hope that the moon doest touch it?” larry questioned.

“While I think you're on the right track , it can't be that easy. I mean , I remember us taking the damn thing out at night and still nothing happened." Jed said. “We won't be able to know exactly what's going on but it's a start.” jed began to wrap the tablet back up and placed it in the crate. “Yall go back to your tent. I got to make sure this thing isn't out.”

Witn that your uncle began to walk you back to your tent. You nestled into his side , breathing in his scent that managed to calm you down. “Never thought i have a real life mummy situation threatening to happen and yet , here we are.'' Larry laughed , pulling you closer to his side as he ran his hands through your hair.

“Yes , well , I never thought I would have to worry about said mummy going after you.” he said, making you chuckle. Yall stopped in front of your tent , smiling at the two squeezes he left on your shoulders. “Be sure to tell me if you have another dream.”

You winced, "I can only imagine how pissed he's going to be.” you mumbled as Larry slid his hands from your shoulder. “Good night uncle.”

“Night y/n”

And with that , both of you were walking off to your respite tents. You managed to see Jed coming up right before you slipped in. you changed into some pajamas before slipping under the covers , thoughts of a certain pharoah plugging your mind as you slowly drifted under.

…

The smell that greeted you was , in the not best terms , enraged beyond a doubt. The moment you realized what was going on you hurriedly stood up , legs wobbling as your eyes landed on a familiar form staring you down from the corner of the room.

“y/n!” you have , never in your life , heard your name shouted with so much anger. A small whimper escaped your mouth despite yourself as you slinked back away from his form despite it being across the room.

He practically teleported across the room with how fast he moved made you squeal as you stumbled back away from him. It was useless though , he controlled the dream and was faster on regular terms , and soon enough he had grabbed your form as he tossed you on the bed.

You sat and tried to crawl back but he was relentless in his pursuit of you. He grabbed your ankles and pulled you forward before grabbing at your flailing wrist as the lock in his one hand grasped. He sat his legs on either side of your legs as his other hand came to steady himself on the side of your body leaving him to lean over your form.

“How could you! Were my promises of love and adoration not enough?! Did the thought of wealth and power belonging to you not entice you?! Or were my threats not harsh enough to keep you from going and betraying me like that?!” he was royally pissed.

His eyes , unnerving and haunting in the way they gave you their full attention , never once left your face. “You dare to take my devotion and spit it back into my face,” he sneered, "I think not! What part of mine do you not seem to get!”

“Oh i get it , alright! Doest mean I'll accept the bullshit coming out of your mouth,” you snapped back “,do you really think threats are a good way to ‘get the girl!’’ News flash asshole , it causes the exact opposite effect!” the pharaoh's eyes were blown wide in anger and despite the warning signs you kept talking “,This isn't 4000 years ago where you could throw a temper tantrum and get what you want! So how about you take your high and mighty ass somewhere else and shove it-”

The scent that escaped him had your breath knocking out of your throat as a vicious snarl left his mouth , and what a terrible sound it was. Like nails on a chalkboard that increased with every breath you took , you were , safe to say , screwed six ways to sunday. Damn you and your mouth.

You found yourself frozen in absolute terror as the predator above you leered down at you with narrowed eyes “,what i said were not threats,” then , without warning , the hand that was holding your wrist came to grasp around your mouth “they were promises.'' Despite his calmness , the harsh tone gave way to how truly pissed off he was.

“You're right , it has been 4000 years and times have changed. What else has changed?” no you did not “,My patience and benevolence. Despite all else , I was , and still am , a pharaoh and one that should not be angered , and yet , you have done exactly that in five minutes of running your mouth.”

He sat up slightly , now sitting on you with his hands on either side of your body “,I was far from kind my time alive. You would think that being locked away and forced to live in darkness for 4000 years would mollify my behavior from being born into royalty.” he tilted his head to the side “, it caused the exact opposite effect.” having your own words thrown back at you made you frown. “I suppose a punishment is in order.”

That-that did not sound good.

“Hopefully this will teach you not to run your mouth without thinking.” your cheeks were squished together “,You have no one but yourself to blame.” with a peck to your cheek , he was gone.

Soon enough , we were in.

You sat , heaving as your heart rate tried to calm itself down from the adrenaline that had been rushing through it as you slept. No matter how you felt in those dreams , upon waking up your body was able to show exactly how you felt for real.

“y/n!” the sound of your uncle's voice made you snap your head over to the flap.

“Uncle!” you exclaimed, causing him to shoot into the tent and , upon seeing your disheveled form , rushed to your side. He held your shoulders in his hands , grip tight and worry lasted.

“y/n , what happened?”

“He was pissed. He just-he just kept yelling at me and I couldn't take it so I went off on him.” you were shaking, he told me i deserve a punishment before disappearing?” you noticed your uncle's look. “What happened?” you questioned. His mouth twitched into a frown.

“The tablets are gone.” he hissed.

“What!”

“When me and Jed went to go check on it early this morning , it was gone. The only thing left in its place was the wrapping and this.” he placed something on the table.

It was a wedding ring. A wedding one that only pharaohs could afford to give to their wives if how expensive it looked was anytale. It was beautiful despite the chill it sent down your spine. A golden band that had two hands interlocking and forming a heart around a diamond in the shape of a heart. The symbols on ra and khonsu were engraved on the band with the inside having writing that you could not understand. Where the wrist would be was rubies and emeralds.

“He’s out.” you shakinly said. “He's out and he's pissed. there's no telling what he's going to do now that he’s free.” you said as you looked away from the band sat tauntingly on your nightstand dresser. “Where's jed?”

“He's busy.” Larry said as he avoided your questioning gaze. “This morning , one of the art historians discovered the bodies of two linguistic researchers. He's outside talking to the police right now.” The silence that followed afterwards was deafening.

Until the sound of your son broke it , that was. Tears began streaming down your face as you buried yourself in your hands. phrases like “oh my god,” and “,it's all my fault,” were the only coherent thing that you could mutter. Your uncle was quick to take you in his arms as you buried your face into his neck where his scent proceeded to wash over you like a clam breeze.

“This is not your fault , It's that bastard. You can't control his actions, not his reaction.” that made you feel a little better , even if the guilt was still poking at your heart like a burning red knife. “Better.” you nodded.

“A little.”

“Good enough to start packing?” one look at your face had him continuing. “”I-im not allowing you to stay here any longer y/n. We need to fly back to Cairo for questioning and stay there a little before they let us go. But as soon as that's done we’re flying back home and away from here.” he said.

“Why do you sound nervous?” you questioned.

“Due to some technical issues , the plane flying us out won't be here for two days.” your eyes widen.

“Two days!?” your wide eyes were turned on him. “We may not even survive the night.” you whispered out the last part

A sad smile appeared on his face , looking none too happy “,I know.”

.

.

.

.

That afternoon and evening was spent being holed up in your uncles and jed’s tent. The closer it got to dark , the more everyone became rigid and tense , and while no one else knew what was going to happen ; the thickness of the air was enough to set everyone in camp off. The police officers - who stayed despite their helicopter having come over to pick them up - were still interviewing people by the time the evening came.

Right now both you and jed were fidgeting on opposite sides of the tent with your uncle having stepped out to take a call from ricky who was with his mom. “y/n,” you looked up at jed “your hands darling.” you looked down and noticed the crescent shaped indents in your palm. You must have been unknowingly clenching your hands-hard.

“You’re worried.” It was a statement because it was true. Even if jed acted as though he was an unruly strong man ; any facade in the face of death by the supernatural would crumble like dry dirt. “Look,” he sat his bandana down before getting up and walking over towards your form and grabbed your shoulders ``your worried , your uncles worried , i'm worried and while i cant promise that nothing dangerous is going to happen - i can promise you that me and larry will protect you to our dying breath.'' Then there were those two little squeezes.

Jed has been your brother and uncle's closest friend before you were even born. Your parents broke him and octavius as much as it did you and your uncle. While he wasn't blood he still was your family.

You shook , tears starting to well up in your eyes and cascade down your face like droplets of rain as you cried into his stomach. “Im s-scared. He killed those people without any remorse and then has the audacity to go and turn the blame on me. Someone that unstable - people like him who are used to power are dangerous. I'm worried for everyone and I'm worried for yall.” everything just kept spilling out like word vomit ; your worries , your feelings , your hatred for the pharaoh and the way your omega just kept wanting and wanting from him despite your own feelings.

By the time everything was said and done your uncle had walked back into the tent. Your tears were dried and you were leaning against jeds side as your hands gripped the golden tablet. “So,” je gestured towards the nightmare inducing device “,what do we do with it?” he asked.

“We keep it far away from him as possible.” jed said “,If this thing really is the cause of everything happening then we need to make sure that he doest get his hands on it.”

“Great…how do we do that exactly.'' Larry questioned.

“I dont know…”

“...”

“Jed!”

“What! I'm making this up as I go! The most I can think of is us playing keep away with it but who knows what type of undead mummy powers he might have.” he grumbled and you smiled. Despite the tense situation he managed to find a way to joke. “Anyway , let's get ready,” he got up and pulled the flap of the tent open. “The night is about to be upon us.”

Three hours and a sunset later , that's exactly what happened.

The entire camp was slowly encased in darkness like a veil. Both you and your uncle had stepped outside the tent behind Jed to look at the scene. There was silence and for a while nothing happened. You held the tablet in your hands a little tighter as hope swelled in your heart. Maybe nothing will happen and all three of you will be able to-

And then that damn tablet began to glow.

Your eyes snapped down and in your haste you tried to do something to stop-to top whatever the fuck was happening right now. It was useless though and you could only watch as the tablet began to dim with scared eyes.

“What did it do?” larry breathsly asked “,what the fuck did it do?” he didnt have to wait long for a answer.

The rumbling of something ginormous was enough to draw the entire camp attention towards where it came from. The sphinx statue , the sphinx stone statue , the inanimate sphinx stone statue was now staring down at the entire camp with a flicking tail. It tilted its head to the side.

There was a deathly silence across the camp.

And then the damn statue started to make a move.

“Run.” jed voice broke the silence around you as chaos a]erupted in the camp. Screams of terror and fear were heard all around as the three of yall began to run.

That sphinx was up now and it made its murderous intent known by raising up its paw before smashing down on some people far away from yall. You nearly puked when you looked over to see a small blood splatter on the underside of its paw. Its eyes were looking around wildly as it continued its assault.

“We need to get to the pyramid.” you snapped your head over to look at your uncle as you dodged a person body tumbling past you.

“Are you crazy! That's like lamb to the slaughter with an extra piece of meat on the side.!” you gestured towards the tablet in your hand as Jed pushed a falling piece of tent out the way.

“I know it sounds crazy but it's either that or the giant murderous kitten.” soon right after he said that a decapitated head was thrown in your path making you screech as you kicked it out the way. “See!”

“Ok , ok! Pyramid it is. But what do we do after that!” Larry didn't have time to answer. Not when the sphinx had finally caught sight of yalls from running towards the giant pyramid. Especially when it notices the golden tablet held in your hands.

“You stupid human,” the sound of that thing's voice was enough to make your blood cold as it echoed throughout the desert “,that damn tablet does not belong to you! Return that to the master at once!” he snarled as he began to sprint over towards yall running form , ready to smash you to bits.

“y/n!” the shout of your name was enough to make the sphinx stop in its pursuit. The three of you did not stop once it did. If anything it caused yall legs to run faster.

“y/n you say.” the thing pulled out as it smushed another group of people. “Im sure you're well aware of how happy our pharoah will be to see you…in the flesh at least.'' The last thing you saw was the sphinx licking its blood soak paw clean. Even without an iris to even look at you , the weight of its stare as you disappeared into the doorway was enough to make you shudder.

As the three of yall stumbled in , you took note of those already there and looking just traumatized and confused you felt guilt pool into your stomach once more.

There was silence between the eight of you with nothing but the dwindling screams outside to fill the quiet space. You placed the tablet in your satchel as you leaned into your uncle's body in an attempt to seek comfort.

“This is crazy,” someone said “, this is some type of shit that happens in the mummy-not in the real world! What the fuck!” he shouted at the end.

“Shh! Do you want us to be found? If that damn thing is alive imagine what else is.'' Jed said in a whisper.

“We don't have to imagine.” someone raised a shaking finger towards the wall causing everyone's attention to be dragged towards it. The painting of those farming women and playing children were now giggling as they pointed at you all. Upon realizing they had everyone's attention , the children began to wave as the painted woman shook their heads foundly before going back to attend to their crops.

“Holy shit.” you mumbled as you raised your hand to poke at the little boy on the wall. He grumbled as he shot you an annoyed look before his eyes widened. He pointed at your wrist and it was only then that you noticed the way your sleeve had trudge down enough for that damn pharoah name to be visible. The children squealed and the woman gushed to themselves in that strange language of theirs.

“What the fuck,” some guy , lancelot your brain remember , said next to you “,what the actual hell is going on here?” he asked to no one in particular.

“Do you want the short version or long theory?'' Jed asked.

“...”

“Well?”

“...Give us the short version , you can give us a longer explanation if we make it out of..whatever this is alive.”

And so , Jed did just that. He spared nothing short - even the dreams were mentioned and by the end of it we had two more conformed people who were experiencing the same thing. One of them being lancelot.

“Great , so i wasn't crazy. Just being hunted by a vengeful angry pharoah.” he huffed out “,kinda wishing i was just crazy.”

“You're not kidding.” larry mumbled “,we should get going. We need to find a place to hide for the night if we even want a slim chance of survival.” he said.

“But there's only so many rooms.”

“That's why i said slim.” you kicked at his shin slightly which made him he stammer out “,but a slim chance is still better than nothing…right?” he got eyerolls as his answer.

“Come on , we can hole up in the bathroom until the morning comes.” and with that all eight of you were walking towards the bathroom. It didt take long for y'all to reach and soon enough you were squished between Larry and Jed as everyone sat in silence.

You frowned , feeling eyes burn into your skull made you look up and lock eyes with angry one staring back at you. You huddled closer to your uncle which only seem to engage the man more. It went on like that for five more minutes until the person finally spoke.

“Why is she here?” he asked through clenched teeth as the man gestured towards you “,i mean , its her fault that thing is out and it's not like shes got to worry about being killed>” he said making your uncle frown as he pulled you closer.

“She’s here cause she's just as much of a victim as the rest of us. Do you really think she wanted this to happen? She has enough guilt on her conscience at the moment , i don't need an asshole making things worse for her.'' Larry hissed out.

“Why you little bi-”

“Thats enough asshole. eave the little missy alone and shut up unless you want to be the reason we’re all killed.” jed snapped at the man causing him to instantlyinstantly shut up and shrink back at the angry alpha pheromones. Despite this , the man did in fact , not shut up.

“She doest deserve to be here. Why don't we just give her to that mummy in-”

“I agree with him. You should give her to me.” the way the temperature seemed to drop in the room made your breath stutter to an almost complete step. Then a figure slowly started to emerge from the darkness in the wall opposite of the energy way.

It was the pharaoh.

“And yourself. You should also give yourself to me.” there was silence as the very much alive 4000 year old pharaoh clasp his hands behind him with a playful tilt of his head. “I do believe this is the part where you start to run” he didn't need to growl out that last part to get his words across.

You and everybody else were already standing and ready to do exactly what he said , run!

You and everybody else were soon rushing out the door as the sound of laughter followed your fleeting form. It was Jed who held your hand this time as you and everybody sprinted like the literal devil was on your heels. He might as well be with the way that pharaoh was taking clear pleasure in the situation. “Look at yall , you're like scrambling little insects. Its would be cute if it wasn't so pathetic.” at that last word something smashed against the wall behind yall.

You were jerked into a room. The centerpiece and the one where you found that chamber that contained that monster. You looked wildly sound the room when- “Wait,” your eyes snapped up to meet your uncles ``where are the jackals.” the sound of rumbling footsteps behind you answered your question.

You don't know how you did see the 20 foot stone statues before at the entrance but right now that was the least of your concerns. Those things were backing y'all to the center of the room as the pharaoh casually strolled in like this was a normal tuesday for him.

It probably was to be honest..

“Five more than what i expected to make it out alive,” he smirked as he circled towards the entrance of his chamber “,good job. Most people can't even make it past the sphinx.” he turned on abruptly as his face twisted into something more devious. “Oh, I seem to have forgotten to introduce myself.”

The sudden change in his playful demenor was so fast it nearly gave you whiplash. From the way he stood taller and held his head higher right down to the way his eyes sparkled with confidence ,this man truly did look the part of a powerful pharaoh he was told to be.

“My name is ahkmenrah , fourth king of the fourth king. Ruler of the land of my fathers,” his eyes suddenly became sharp with a danger that had you creeping closer to jed out of fear “,And you my guest , have royally messed up.”

That was the understatement of the century.

Nobody said anything. What could anybody say with the threat of being speared if you existed to loudly looming over you. Literally. Ahkmenrah , what a handful of names to think- let alone say , turned to glance back at something before turning his attention back to your group.

“All right , enough games,” he held out his hand “,my tablet,” those eyes were suddenly staring intensely at you “,now.'' His statement left no room for argument. You slowly went to undo the clasp on the satchel before gently taking the tablet out. With both hands you had the tablet in your hands. The smirk on his face annoyed you to end.

You threw it on the ground for him to pick it up. The little gasp that escaped his mouth as his smile fell made your heart swell with happiness. You all watched as he grabbed at the tablet and checked for any damages before brushing off the sand. He turned to you , pout on his face and eyebrows pulled downward in a glare.

“Vindictiveness does not suit you my dearest.” he said as held the tablet in one arm. “Come here.” he wagged his finger at you like one would a dog. It made you flush in anger and embracement at the belittlement of it. You made no move towards him and instead held tighter onto jeds hands who squeezed your’s.

Ahkmenrah did not like that. His face twisted in irritation that only someone who was used to things being handed to them on a silver platter could pull off. “Now y/n.” he cocked his head to the side “,or do you need a live performance of my threat.”

“To keep those you love alive , all that I ask for is your love.”

Your own eyes were set ablaze with furry “,don't you dare-”

“I won't if you just come here.” he hissed out. You fingers twitched but at the ‘i dare you’ look he sent your way you were forced to slump over. There's nothing you could do - especially not with those guards who were ready to start spearing everyone like kabobs if you didt listen. You tugged your hand away from jets and upon realizing what you were going to do , your sweet uncle Larry tried to grab at you.

Only to be restrained courtesy some man grabbing at him to hold him down. Jed wasn't any better as he had the rest restraining him on the ground in his flailing attempt to get to you. “Y/N! Y/N , DONT! STAY AWAY FROM HER YOU MONSTER!” your uncle was screaming at you to come back and to get away from the smirking pharoah.

“Don't worry mr.daley,” when you were within arms reach ahkmenrah was quick to grab at your form to pull in to his. The side of your face was smashed in his chest “,i’ll take good care of her.” that got a scream out of jed. “As for you,” he tilted your head up so that your eyes were meeting his “,you have my word. Both your uncles will be safe.'' A sigh of relief escaped your mouth as he allowed food to drop to the ground. He tightened his arms around you.

“The same cannot be said for the others though.” that got everyone to shut up. He moved his arm fully out before spreading his palm upward “kill the rest.” the scream that toar from your throat was deafening as the guards suddenly descended on the other five people.

Ahkmenrah , smelling your distress and seeing your face , made it so that your face was squished against his chest once more with his hands blocking the view. He was humming a tune as his smooth hands pet your hair gently. You forced your head into his chest once the screams started , trying to block out the sound as the word sorry tumbled from your lips.

It didn't take long for the screaming to stop.

“How could you?” the sound of your uncle's bluntly furious voice caught your attention. Enough to make you peek at him from where ahkmenrah had you caged. He was covered in blood from bodies that were not there. The guards spears were dripping with blood and from their kneeling position you could see blood stains that were on their palms. “How many people have you killed? Do you take pride in people's terror?! Do you take pride in nearly putting my niece in a catatonic state?!”

You felt ahkmenrah shift and looking up you can see his face pull into a displease frown. He turned his chin up as he spoke “,Do you know what it's like to wake up and be encased in complete darkness for 4000 years? For centuries i wondered why i was subjugated to this torture wondering if this was my punishment for something i didn't know of.” he tightened his hold on you.

“4000 years is a lot of time to build up anger and reassessment , even if it is towards people who have nothing to do with my suffering. You all are not the first people to disturb my rest nor will you be the last. This little site of yalls will be nothing but a blimp in history.” he tutted.

“So then why hasn't there been any news of any missing camps then huh?!” jed hissed from somewhere beyond your vision.

“The tablet wont allow anything that may do me harm to happen. If people started to snoop around cause of a couple of missing people then there would be trouble,” he pointed his head sideways “,so the tablet reassess any memories of the people who have died to any outsider of the camp.” the implications of what he was implying did not go over any of yalls head.

“As of right now , those dead don't matter any more.”

“You bastard!” Larry snapped as he tried to lunge at the pharaoh. Only to be stopped coursey of a stick being slammed down in front of him. “Those people had families! Lives who-”

“Lives who i don't care about.” ahkmenrah was calm despite the attempt on his life. “,do you really think I care about anyone else other than those I deem important. I may look young but I'm 4000 years your junior kid.” he spat out at larry. Jed , who had been strangely silent , had made his way over towards your uncle with a glare thrown towards the pharaoh.

“You claim to blame everyone for your imprisonment and yet the moment you are set free you kill those who did so.”

Ahkmenrah frowned, "I needed their souls to make mine whole.” was all he said “, i'm keeping her. I've waited 4000 years and I'm not going to wait a second longer. You both will leave this place with little memory of what happened,” then his eyes darken. “But should you return with the intent to take my dearest away or to separate me from the living realm , mark my words , my courtesy will not be extended a second time”

Then as fast as we had arrived , both my uncle and his friend were gone in a swirl of sand , leaving me and the living undead pharaoh alone.

“y/n,” you ignored his attempt at getting your attention , staring blankly at the spot where your uncle had been moment prior “y/n , omega , it was for the best.” he turned you around to face forward as his hands steady themselves on the side of your forward. “Come along now dear , we got a lot of catching up to do.”

•~•○•~•

You sat on the steps of the pyramid , dressed blowing behind you with your body being protected from the sun by a large leaf being held over your head by one of the servants. It was night time , of course , and in the distance you can see the villagers setting out their offerings for the week. While ahk never asked for them , he was always puffed out in pride whenever he brought them back.

You don't know how long you’ve been here , not that it mattered. Ahk had wasted no time in murdering you so that you would be forever with him. Not even death could separate the two of you now. You could still feel the panic leaving your body in parallel to your blood staining the floors.

Then , a familiar scent of chocolate and firewood caught your attention.

“Dearest,” you felt his robe drape slightly on one side of your body “why don't you come inside , it's cold outside today.'' The cold did not bother any of you and he knew it. He just wanted an excuse to get you back inside so that he could pester you more.

Despite the obvious manipulation you yourself to turn sideways and place your hands in his already outstretched one. He pulled you to your feet as the servant stepped to the side to allow the both of you to walk in. as always and as he required , you walked behind him off to the side. Despite him being less inclined to snap on you , the habit had been made and you didn't want to find out what he would do if you broke it.

You both turned into a room , the very one that you had first explored when you got here. That memory felt so long ago that it was starting to slowly escape your mind like grains of sand. You wonder how your uncle is doing , how your cousin is doing , what Jed and Octavius are doing. You wonder if they still mourn your-

There was a hand on your cheek that managed to cut you off from your thoughts “,Are you thinking about them again.” it was a statement , but one you stilled answered by looking off to the side and nodding your head. He sighed “,You’re only hunting yourself my dearest.” he lets your face go as his hand tangled in yours and pulled you into the room.

You stood in the doorway and watched as he rumanged around in those vases he found , vases that you now knew were filled with deserts if and or fruit , dried or not. Ahk took a smaller vase and filled it with some sort of food before grabbing a bag and filled it with some sort of fruit. He turned around and you moved out the way to allow him room to walk in front of you.

With his collection in his hands and you trailing onnhis feet the both of you began to walk back to the chamber. “,The villagers are rumored to have put out some marshmallows for us,” he suddenly began “,Its been a while since ive anything that sweet." he was looking for companionship , something h rarely had to seek out from you now and days considering you would come to him on your own accord , but on days he was extra needy , like ttodday , it wasnt uncommon for him to try to pester and talk to you about the smallest things if only to get your attention for a split second.

You said nothing in response which made the young pharoah pout. It didnt take long for you both to reach where he wanted you at. Beind the chamber and his sarcophagus (you also had one now) that you had open long ago was a hidden passageway that led to a furnitured bedroom complete with everything a living person could need. He took your hand and practically dragged yoou to the bed at which point he sat on.

He arranged himseelf to his ideal perfection before grabbing at your arm and gently pulling you into a familiar position with your back dressed against one of his raised legs and your swung ontop and over the other. He then proceeded to grab the bag he had been filling earlier and took out it content out.

It was a vine of purple grapes. He smoothed one between his fingers before plucking it off thee tiny stick and holding it up close to your mouth. You open it and allowed for him to pluck the fruit on your tongue before you began to chew. He also ate some , switching between feedin you and himself until every little crunchy grape had been plucked and cleaned right off.

He looked at the vase he had grabbed before taking it and setting it off somewhere. He then tugged the both off you down onto the bed witha soft plop. He tugged you so that your back was laid againts his chest as he curled his body around yours. “Let us nap together my omega.” there was a kiss placed on your neck - right where he had left his mating mark for all to see. “I’ll be there when you wake up.”

He fellt as you fell asleep in his arms and smiled quietly to himself.

4000 years of longing have finally come to a end.

Few things to clear up here if in case you didn't catch them:

1. Ahkmenrah is not stupid , meaning he's not wasting any time to attack. Yall seem to forget this man was a Pharoah when he was killed meaning he has to have had the skills and knowledge for that. In what world do you see competent rulers give their enemy time to prepare and figure out their weaknesses?

2. Ahk was buried so far away so that his brother wouldn't have the ability to come back to life. Unfortunately this meant he was able to have his parents with him after he was stabbed to death and resented his brother even more than in canon.

3.Ahks chamber wasn't able to be open unless his spulmate was near , this was the condition set forth by Khonsu in retaliation from the other gods.

4. Ahks tablet died the day before y/n and Larry showed up to Egypt. It's why ahks has been more forceful and demanding in the dreams.

5. Ahk holds more anger and resentment due to the loneliness and bitterness be was faced with early on. This only continued to get worse as the century's pass.

6. Larry and jeds dream were preety tame considering all they got were thank you through clench teeth before being told to fuck off. Everybody else were tortured and threatened.

7. The reason ahk wanted everyone but y/n to leave was because their presence was making it very difficult for him to mind control her to the chamber. It also made it harder for him to even get to her mind considering she wasn't being broken so easily due to all the support and safety she felt.

8. The sphinx and anubis guards weren't coming to life even before the tablet died was because their wasn't enough magic left by the time the site was set up. All that they could do was move their eyes as anything more would drain more magic. Everything else though was having the time of their lives acting inanimate whenever the other humans showed up.

[bunnyathy]

my favorite and funny silly headcannons (not rlly) and ooc ideas about the batfamily:

Damian Wayne:

- has a dedicated social media accounts for his pets. he gets income and sponsorship from luxury pet brands all the time because of it. he doesn’t really care about the money he’s just happy his pets get to have free stuff that give them a better and spoiled life.

- bro’s a gen alpha he’s probably a brainrot humor kind of kid but he hides it well but it comes out at random times

- he’s a dedicated hater, he loved kendrick lamar’s drake diss songs

- his personal/ official Damian Wayne tiktok account is literally just a hate page for his brothers (but in an endearing way he still loves them)

- prefers watching reels over tiktok bcs of the funny comments and the unhinged reels that come out there

- Damian Wayne is a weeb… he was absolutely there during the Anime tiktok lockdown era (if he was even born yet idk) so he knows all the cringe weeb shit.. he quotes it at random times….

- Damian was strictly shoujo mangas and anime but Jon showed him My Hero Academia and he LOVED it. he respects Koda and likes his quirk. MHA was one of the only mangas he read that’s not shoujo lol. (lets ignore the part where there was official damian wayne art where there was a chainsaw man manga with him (i dislike csm))

- he probably did one of those kpop pc decora things out of a printed picture of his fave anime character cough bakugo and tamaki suoh cough (he got influenced by flatline nika)

- he most likely listens to Twice bcs Flatline suggested it to him (this is not bcs I am a once (yes it is))

Batfam:

- to be able to keep up with Brucie Wayne’s diva it boy appearance he occasionally does those derma clinic facials and time to time he invites his kids. Stephanie absolutely is always with him, Cass as well but she’s only there because Steph seems to love it so she’ll always do what Steph loves. It came to a point where Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Duke Thomas started to become pretty boys (Jason is not there he could not stand Brucie persona)

- there has been rumors of Brucie Wayne having a bbl and to prove them all wrong Brucie posted a gym workout where his focus was his ass. lets just say BRUCIE JUICY ASS?? on twitter was trending and the kids HATED it. maybe haha certain heroes liked it a little more than others lmfao

- Damian got hyperfixated on into the spiderverse and across the spiderverse he forced his whole family to rewatch it with him

- Jason got asked to come over to the manor by one of the siblings and took a sneaky pic of his whole body just to put it in one of those “dance if you love your family” ai dancing thing on tiktok. he never came back to the manor….

- Tim and Damian have this online feud in tiktok where they comment unhinge and insulting comments to their public official account each other but ofc its filtered so it can cross the tos. Damian once commented “I hope to see you hanging in the streets” and almost got banned from tiktok

- whenever any of the fam asks something from Cass that she doesn’t wanna do she goes “sorry I’m mute” (she takes advantage of her not so disability) Stephanie taught her that she said it would be funny. it works sometimes bcs the other was probably too tired to notice or just goes along bcs they think Cass learning gen Z humor is funny.

aight ive ran out of ideas they were just mostly damian and batfam AHAHAHAH

[emidealia]

☆ timeless what's AWAITING YOU next month ☆

Hey lovelies! Bienvenue! This is a PICK A CARD tarot reading is about what you need to hear about your upcoming month, starting pretty much from where you are right now. Choose a picture from the top 1, 2 or from the bottom 3, 4. Be kind and take with you only what applies. Take a deep breath ...and enjoy!:)

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pile 1

Nurture your Goddess energy

Main thing you’ll focus this month is bringing back rosy feeling(fresh, sweet, gorg). You have a tendency to not feel like a boss a— bitch and this is rooted in trauma from home/finances and results in lack of trust, confidence in yourself. Perhaps not feeling “clean” or not having a romantic lifestyle like others around you and on internet. It is affecting how you express your mind, the way you present yourself etc. Because you don’t really believe in yourself you treat yourself as such. The way back from this is from outward actions too. This month you’ll start prioritizing having a put together bedroom, aesthetically pleasing desk and thought-out hairstyles, makeup and outfits. Healing feminine energy will be truly empowering for you. Look into that! When you act confident you start gaining back your power, truly believing and feeling worthy and divine.

Don’t deny it, there’s a lot you could do in your situation. There’s absolutely no point in sitting in your despair, hoarding sadness, feeling pathetic. Literally no one else cares, no one will come feeling sorry for you and no one but yourself can save you. Be known for having built yourself up or are you envisioning yourself in the same pile of pity years from now, only more bitter? If you can change it, stop whining and change. If you can’t, then there’s no point in whining either, it’s out of your control. But be honest.

Back to what you can do. What is it that creates a spark in you? Even the smallest of desires to get yourself together. For example late at night on pinterest or the right tiktok hitting the spot, maybe the right friend or seeing what your interests can accomplish. Journaling, vision boards, meditating, working out, waking up early, podcasts. Gather everything that sparks the motivation to start something, change sth about yourself, chase your dreams and such. Use these things to your advantage, learn what helps your mind to stay focused, body to stay healthy. Learning about the way you can motivate yourself with your actions, you’ll trick your brain into being more confident as the brain changes everyday according to your surroundings. I do recommend notion for putting down your plan to renew yourself, music, habits, dreams, routines etc. This month you’ll be in your element and succeed babe. Love the process, love yourself, you are so goddamn worthy of living as you desire. You are divine as fuck, you lack nothing!

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pile 2

A long period came to an end. School term, finals, relationship, friendship, lease on sth or a project? Even though it’s over, rather than being grateful, glad, you visit the situation and feel a bit guilty, uncertain, could you have changed the outcome, said/done it better or been more present? Yeah, no, stop, it’s useless. Maybe you could have, how about that? Nothing to do about it anyways. Find peace for yourself human! You are in the now, it is certain that storm is over and be glad.

MOVING ON. Too much overthinking, man, this time about the future. You are tiring your mind, so much is going on, like the 13 open tabs and there’s music, screaming, a random question about lemurs and existensialism video essays. A lot of escapism, wishing someone would make the decisions for you or being far away from here, doing nothing. No no no. You can’t give away your oppurtunities and potential, you’ll learn a lot from this. You are destined for greatness. I’ll be honest this month there are a few days of feeling shitty but it’s in your control and nothing you couldn’t deal with. Also nothing you haven’t done before so this may be a reoccurring lesson. Main question is, how tf to sustain yourself? In healthy-ish coping mechanisms please. Learn to find something stable in your life that doesn’t fall apart if everything else does.

Main focus this month is about concious progress, intentional advancements. Things will get better, you’ll keep pushing forward, along with much success and enjoyment. You can shape your career, hobbies, plans in according to your own timetable, if you make the needed choices. In this upcoming period you need to be grounded and ready to jump at oppurtunities. You are ambitious, career-driven, but a step back does not kill you. It’s actually essential to sustain yourself. Your brain is a resource, for too long you have used it only for work, being in survival mode, resulting in feeling drained out of power.

I know how hard it is, but take a break, several breaks, a vacation even. Learn to do nothing more than just exist for once. Loving yourself for you, not just for your work validation. That’s also something you should tak einto consideration this month. Separating yourself from performance statistics in your job. If you give it so much control it can really eat you up and destroy you. But you are more than that, am I right? I bloody am, you are an amazing person. Reconnect with yourself, with more humanity. Get rid of the need to be perfect. You really don't need to. Truly okay if you couldn't do your best, or just didn't. It's okay.

Being mentally ready, feeling present and being truly glad to wake up to experience the world is pretty awesome. You’ll be ready for anything then. Love you for you!!! Kisses and hugs, muah :)

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pile 3

Right away, when starting this pile I was full of the feeling YOLO, let’s do it :D. Spring is coming. Oh the cards made me smile right away. Attracting like a rose, receiveing abundance, you have a right to your joy. Screamiiiiing in joy. I’m obsessed. You have noticed how easily you manifest, right? The little things just flow to you. This is your time: vision boards, letters, writing down your wishes, affirmations, being grateful. You’ll receive everything you manifest right now.

Fall into the mystery, when you receive oppurtunities take them. Your manifestations come in different forms, what you might gain may be hidden but you will receive what you desire for sure. If an offer sparks feelings in you, the ,,what if ;)” type. DO IT! It’s your soul calling. If you want to advance creativity, learn new skills or gain a little money, you might do it in a different way you anticipated. I sense some workshops or little jobs, it might not be exactly what you thought about when manifesting but it’s like such a cute opportunity to also take some time off. It will be easy and safe to you, in a good way. Your boss or the manager and colleagues will be such great people, you’ll gain so many connections. I hear some teamwork is in order. I feel you will be receiving abundance in the form of what your inner child loved to do. You’ll be connecting to that forgotten side of yourself. I think you are aware of the hobby, but forgotten the potential of it, the joys it can bring you. This can turn out to be first of all an amazing way to connect to yourself, but also a way to gain mental well-being and little side cash. It will offer emotional and physical things, like the joy of creating art and having paintings in your home or selling prints on internet.

I just need to put this out there that it will be something you can connect over with your future significant other too. This shared joy for a hobby is truly pure, healing and sweet. You may even meet through this. Yep they are amazing, but don’t take your focus on romantic validation, you know better. There’s this beautiful saying. If you spend your time chasing butterflies, they'll fly away. If you spend your time making a beautiful garden the butterflies will come to you. And if they don't come, then you still have the beautiful garden.

STAY LOVELY!

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pile 4

I started the reading with bits of confusion and come clumsiness but in a free nonjudgemental chill way if that makes sense? Pfft oops:D anyways … You are the essence of confidence, self acceptance, at least you are perceived that way. You know your needs, you don’t resist when you need a break, you ask and you receive. Great standards, others must accept you like u do. Just like it should be. I am enchanted by your energy and I’m not the only one. This month you’ll keep on shining like you are, taking it to another level. Others will be greatly motivated by your ability to be in total control of your life, caring for your wishes and needs with trust. Main focus this month is advancing your everyday things: style may be the most prominent, also smaller things like a new type of go-to food or coffee you swear by. You’ll have great luck in finding new items for your wardrobe and new ingredients for recipes. So saying yes to going thrifting or buying mysterious exciting things will be rewarding.

Traveling to a neighboring city or country most likely alone. A great refreshment for you. I see you safely wandering in the evening, finding cool bars, cafes, museums, talking and hanging out with strangers but essentially making new friends and learning about people. This is something that really interests you, finding out about different subjects, talking to strangers, learning about different opinions and world views. At the same time, you will also develop your own hobby, photography or filmmaking, writing or doing remote work.

So to sum up, this month is about great curiosity, travelling, charming, communication with new people, developing your style and pursuing a hobby. Life is a grand adventure!

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[creedslove]

VALENTINE'S DAY WITH JOEL MILLER - HEADCANONS 🍓

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: I know I'm late to the party but I was too sick to get anything done yesterday so yeah, besties sorry about that ❤️

• first of all, let me clarify something: Joel Miller is a romantic man at heart no matter if he always seems to be grumpy and angry, all he needs is someone who can break his walls and he'll unleash his full romance potential

• Joel spent a long time away from this romantic stuff, after Sarah's mom left him, he didn't see a point in trying again in a relationship so he just focused on work and his daughter and dates such as valentine's day became a random day in the calendar where he'd buy some candy and share it with his daughter on the couch watching bad movies

• but that all changed when you came into picture and Joel knew he had to do something about it, though he wasn't sure exactly what. Not only was he shy, but also a little insecure and didn't exactly know what to do, what was in nowadays and what was considered lame

• so Sarah jumped on it to help her dad; she was so excited to see him dating again, deciding to move on with his love life, she was more than willing to help him and you to have a real nice Valentine's day

• so one day after work, he found her sat at the kitchen table, she had a planner in hands and highlighters of all colors and presented Joel all the options she found suitable for your Valentine's day

• Joel felt like scoffing and rolling his eyes, if that girl knew he was *THE* lady killer back in his days, she wouldn't even try that

• but the fact was that his daughter actually had gathered quite a few good options and suggestions so he began thinking about what he was going to do; he went through several scenarios but decided to go with the most traditional one: flowers, dinner, present

• however, he was still quite nervous about it, not being so sure if you'd enjoy his ideas, the fear of being old or just out of fashion made him doubt his plan, but when Sarah stepped in and assured him that red roses were still the best gift for Valentine, just as an Italian restaurant was also a good option and that gorgeous necklace was an amazing gift, he felt reassured

• so when Valentine's day came, he went to pick you up at your place, and you could've sworn he looked even cuter as he was nervously waiting for you outside the car, he had a new flannel shirt on and his damp hair was slicked back, and you couldn't help but feel your heart racing for him, especially when you spotted the gorgeous red bouquet in his hand

• you rushed to Joel and pecked his lips, it caught him off guard at first, his nervousness distracting him from you, but his arms immediately wrapped around your body, more than glad to be able to pull you to him, and deepening the kiss

• he groaned at how soft your skin was and how good you smelled, it was delicious and so tempting, he couldn't help but slide down to your neck, nuzzling and nibbling it, making you giggle and squealed softly, Joel had his devilish way of handling you, but you'd rather for him to use his powers if it weren't in front of your neighbors

• and then Joel takes you to his truck, being a gentleman and opening the door of course and obviously his huge hand would be on your thigh through the whole drive

• at the restaurant Joel would insist you order whatever you want without even looking at the price, but you know there's no reason to splurge, just being on that date is more than enough

• and a date with Joel Miller I'm talking about a lot of eye contact, holding hands, Joel telling you how pretty you are, calling you his doll, darling, sweetheart, princess, babygirl, anything to melt your heart

• and then towards the end of your romantic dinner, you exchange presents: Joel got you a beautiful necklace and you got him a new pair of boots

• you kiss and hold hands on your way back to the truck, it's still early and he invites you to sleep at his house, but he warns you that Sarah is still there, so you can't be that explicit and you chuckle, reminding him you can behave yourself for a while

• as you two get home, Sarah is by herself on the couch, and she smiles big when she spots the two of you, she's happy to see you and her dad all giggly from the wine and the high spirits

• so you open your purse and hand her a box of chocolates, she deserves a treat as well, and the three of you enjoy the rest of your evening watching whatever on TV, you're not really paying attention to it, you're just enjoying that little family it's slowly becoming yours

• once Sarah went to bed, Joel pulled you to his lap, as you both made out like teenagers, your Valentine's day was just beginning and you were gonna enjoy every single last second of it

____

[amandacanwrite]

The Violet Thread of Fate Part Three:

The Scribe's Guild and the Acolyte Errant

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Join Taglist

Pairing || Elinna Inklynn (Half-drow tav) and Gale Dekarios

Length || 5,400 Words

Scenario || In an alternative timeline for the events of BG3 Elinna Inklynn, an orphan from the Moonshae Islands seeks out the tutelage of accomplished wizard Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep. She has a knack with the Weave, but no money or connections to actually learn how to harness it. She has heard the wizard is a gentleman and a schollar, and hopes she can appeal to him to take her on as his apprentice in exchange for her help around his tower, with his research, and in running errands in Waterdeep. Unfortunately for her, Gale Dekarios does not take on apprentices.

Warnings || Age gap (Perhaps about 10ish years), depiction of depression and heart ache, description of very, very mild body horror. Description of scarring from corporal punishment. Slightly mature themes.

A/n || In the interest of full disclosure: I didn't edit this one. I was too eager to get it out, so please forgive any strange pacing or verbiage. I may edit it tomorrow or sometime soon, but I also primarily write this for fun so I may also not. I actually really enjoyed writing Gale softening up to Elinna a bit, and Elinna sort of losing some of her rose tinted vision for Gale. Perhaps soon they will meet somewhere in the middle. :))

If you like this, you may also like my original works! I have a writing taglist that you can sign up for simply by commenting or reblogging and letting me know you'd like to be added. OR you can fill out this form if you'd like to be specific about which works you'd like to be tagged in.

Tag list || @softvampirewhump @horizonstride @thoughts-of-bear @mymybirdie @tiedyedghoulette @drabblesandimagines @madwomansapologist @hijirikaww @tryingtowritestuff24 @laserlope @auroraesmeraldarose @puckprimrose @dont-try-pesticide @cherifrog @circusofthelastdays  @nourangul

The Scribe’s Guild

Elinna cupped her hands above her eyes, trying to reduce the urge to squint as she looked out over the edge of one of the craggy cliffside peaks. 

“Are you certain you’re alright up there?” Gale asked from the ground. “Not to be a pain, but you haven’t had the greatest track record with heights as of late.”

“I climbed up here–as long as I don’t try to magic my way down, I should be fine,” she called back. “I’m trying to figure out where we are.”

“Any luck?” he called back. 

“You’re distracting me!” she said. 

“Are you one of those people who can only do one mental process at a time?” he asked. “Do you go blind when your ears are in use?”

“I’m one of those people who needs to think to recall the details of all the maps I’ve cataloged at the Nest,” she griped looking down at him. “Now be quiet so I can think.”

She saw him lift a hand and rub the back of his neck before he turned around and sat down to have a pout. She rolled her eyes looking out over the coastline again, trying to cross reference what she could see from her view with the overhead details of maps she’d looked at before.

Gale Dekarios was certainly a…strange archmage. 

Reading transcripts of conversations, reading his treatises–she’d always pictured this stately, almost dry sort of fellow. Someone who would sniff before correcting her about something–or stand perpetually with his nose pointed at the ceiling so you always knew he was looking down at you past it. 

But he was just…well–a sort of awkward, somewhat humorous man. 

They’d been wandering for some time–Gale had a good sense for what was north, south, east and west, but there was only so much that one could do when unaware of where the starting point was.

The shame of things was that they were in some random locale with very few cities about. She’d learned much about Baldur’s Gate, Amn, Waterdeep–places she wished to visit. If there was Gale’s tower nearby–or perhaps Sorcerous Sundries–she could have been able to pluck it out of the landscape with ease. 

Instead, as she looked out off the cliff, she only saw shoreline give way to worn out cobbled roads. Some sort of village obscured the haze of distance and…well nothing familiar. She pursed her lips before chewing slightly on the bottom one; a nervous habit that often left her with metallic-tasting patches on the inside of her lip. 

“Well?” Gale said a bit impatiently. 

She was just about to give him the bad news–that she found nothing of note and had no idea which way to go–when a shadow darkened the ground from somewhere overhead. She looked up to find a black blot against the light blue of the sky–a dire raven with a wingspan of about 10 feet, armored in the colors of a the Scribe’s Guild; pale tan leathers, brass metal and mist green canvas. 

She found herself smiling despite the fact that she’d told herself she’d never look at a Scribe’s Guild after leaving The Nest. She watched for a while longer as the large avian swooped through the sky and then landed on the parapet of a distant stone structure. 

“We’re in luck!” she called down to Gale.

“Are we?” he asked. “You didn’t happen to have found a cleric of legendary skill up there did you?”

“Not that much luck,” she said as she started to climb down the rocky face of the cliff.

“Are you sure you ought to be doing that?” he asked. “It seems awfully dangerous.”

“As we just covered, I’ll be fine so long as I don’t use magic,” she responded. “I’m used to climbs.”

Looking down to find her perch, she carefully lighted her foot on the boulder where she started her climb, and turned to find Gale waiting for her, a single hand offered up to her to assist her down from the small height. 

“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “It’s not that high up.”

“Best not to risk it,” he said. “The twist of an ankle could mean the difference between humanity and ceremorphosis, considering our plight.”

Elinna nibbled on her lower lip and nodded, placing her hand in his. His calloused fingers closed around her hand and he lifted his other hand to grasp her waist. She stepped off the stone and he supported her weight easily, lowering her to the ground smoothly. 

“So,” he said, not taking his hands away yet. “You’ve kept me in suspense, Elinna. Why are we in luck?”

“I just saw a Dire Raven,” she said. “One of the ones we use to transport records between different chapters of the Scribe’s Guild.”

“The what?” he asked. 

“The Scribe’s guild,” she said. “I told you, I was their ward in the Moonshae Islands.”

“Did you?” he asked. 

She sighed and gave him a disappointed look. “You really didn’t listen to me at all back in Waterdeep.”

His hand twitched on her waist as his brow furrowed. “Well that’s hardly fair,” he said. “You were a stranger standing right outside of my home. Why should I have?”

“Courtesy,” she said sourly as she turned away from him and started to walk down the pathway in the direction she watched the dire raven fly. 

She tried to ignore the tingling feeling in the tips of her fingers as her hand left his; the feeling of absence at her waist as she lost the weight of his hand. 

“Oh, come now–” he said, his face screwing with offense and hurrying after her. “Don’t imply that I was being discourteous when you were the one showing up at a strange man’s home unannounced!”

“It’s not as if I let myself in!” she said back. 

“Wait, you still haven’t told me what the Scribe’s Guild is,” he said, finally catching up to her.

“I assumed you would know what it is,” she said looking sidelong and up at him.

“I confess I’ve not heard of it,” he said. 

She sighed and looked ahead. Maybe she didn’t want to tell him if he didn’t already know, she thought. She wasn’t sure she was ready to reveal just how sheltered her life was before heading to Waterdeep. 

But they were now headed for the local archive and he was going to find out either way so…

“The scribe’s guild is a redundancy,” she said. “It’s one of the realm’s most extensive collections of information. If you’re looking for a book, a scroll, a record of some obscure property dispute… you can find it there. I was raised in one.”

“So, you’re a scribe?” he asked her. “You write books–collect this information and dole it out to those who need it?”

She pursed her lips. “I wasn’t a scribe myself,” she said. “I was a clerk.”

“So you were in training,” he said. “Assisting the scribes so that you could take on the task.”

She felt her skin pinken with warmth, afraid to disclose the truth–afraid of what it would look like. “Not quite,” she said. “The ArchLibrarian thought I wasn’t suited to the work.”

“Why not?” he asked. 

“Because I was too fun,” she said, her walls going up a little higher. “If you must know.”

“My,” he said. “Did I hit a nerve?”

“It seems like you’re looking for reasons to think poorly of me,” she said. 

“It seems like you’re hiding reasons to think poorly of you,” he said. “So, what was it? Sleeping on the job? Theft? Did you try to cast a cantrip and  Did you come looking for me because they turned you out and cut you off?”

“Gods,” she said looking up at him, a little line forming between her brows and her face getting even warmer with embarrassment. “You really do think I’m a wastrel, don’t you?”

“No I don’t!” he said. 

“What happened to you being worried about seeming an ill-mannered man?” she asked.

“Elinna–you’re young–youth is made for mistakes. You think I was always an upstanding young man while in attendance at Blackstaff?” he said. “I slept through most of my Calashite lessons.”

“Don’t lie to me to try and get dirt on me,” Elinna said as she walked faster.. “Don’t mock me like that.”

“Elinna–Elinna, would you slow down?” he said. 

“No. I want to get to the Scribe’s Guild.”

“We will get there with plenty enough time before sundown,” he said, grabbing her arm. “Elinna, stop.”

She stopped but didn’t look up at him, she couldn’t make herself do it. She didn’t know what was more embarrassing for her; the fact that she’d hardly seen any of the world, the fact that her guardians felt she was inept and flighty, or the fact that she was quite acting like a petulant child with Gale when she only wished to prove to him that she could be a good student. 

Maybe seeking him out had been a mistake from the start. She’d spent so long reading about Gale and his work–learning about his unique understanding of magic–reading his writings…in some ways she’d convinced herself that he was already a friend. 

She’d never thought about how trying to become his apprentice also meant sharing her qualifications and the more time she spent talking to him the more she realized she had none. 

She could feel him looking at her almost indulgently–like a man speaking to a child. 

She didn;t know why she hated that most of all. 

“Elinna, forgive me for prying,” he said. “I was just trying to get to know you a little better. From what I can tell there is a significant distance between here and Waterdeep and it will be a much more pleasant journey if we get to know one another a little bit as we travel, don’t you think?”

Elinna smoothed her amber hair away from her brow, cupping her hand on her forehead as if checking herself for fever. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, finally. . “I think I’m just tired.”

“I can only imagine…what with going from the islands, to Waterdeep so climbing up cliff sides and now we have to walk even further? We can swap notes later,” he said with a gentle smile. “Let’s focus on getting to this place–maybe they can put us up for an evening or at least point us in the direction of the nearest town.”

Elinna nodded before heaving a great sigh. 

“It shouldn’t be long,” she said. “Maybe just a few hours of walking from here.”

“Excellent,” he said. “Lead on.”

The Acolyte Errant

Elinna was a curious girl. 

She was somehow equal measures breezy and intense; lackadaisical and earnest. He didn’t know what to make of the dichotomy. He knew even less what to do with the strange secrecy she had about her former home. 

Perhaps it was a bit of paranoia–after all, he had his own secrets he was keeping. It was perhaps more than a little hypocritical of him to fault her for hers. 

“So, tell me more about The Scribe’s Nest,” he said, trying to change the subject to something more informative and a little less personal.

“Specifically The Nest? Or the guild in general?” she asked. 

“Mm…if it’s not too personal for you, The Nest. You said that’s where you grew up right?” he said. 

She nodded, wiping sweat off her brow. The day was beginning to get hot, so he had to think they were further down south than Waterdeep and the islands. It was much cooler this time of year–hence the layers both he and Elinna wore. 

“Uhm–The Nest in Moonshae is in an old abandoned temple to Ilmater,” she told him. “My mother left me there thinking that it was a safe place for me to grow up–thinking I’d be cared for by clerics. But The Nest was already there.”

“I see,” Gale said, feeling for the girl but trying not to let it come through in his tone. “I suppose they took you in anyway?”

She nodded again. “They did,” she said. “Still not sure why, if I’m honest–they have a few oaths they had to make in exchange for financial support. Even so, there were other temples in the area that probably could have taken me in. But uh–anyway. The way that the scribes work is they receive funds from the local government and they use those funds to pay a fleet of scouts to get word back to us about the goings on in the world. The scribes record it, make copies of each account and send them to the other branches.”

“Hells,” he said. “That sounds like quite the expensive endeavor.”

“It is–and the scribes outsource the work so that there’s no conflict of interest. No scribes out wandering the world trying to spin tales. They have a motto: ‘We Are The Accuracy In The Indulgent The Composed in the Chaotic.’” She said. “In other words, they try to record everything as plainly and as closely to the facts as possible. In addition to that, they try to have copies of every written work ever produced.”

“How can that even be quantified or verified for that matter?” Gale asked. 

“Like I said–they try,” she said. “It’s all very tedious if you ask me.”

“I’m shocked I haven’t heard of this place–it sounds like a veritable treasure trove of knowledge,” he said. 

“The scribes don’t open the vaults to many,” she said. “They consider their work one of posterity; a record of history, not a resource to be plumbed. They don’t even really indulge in reading the records themselves.”

“That sounds….extraordinarily wasteful,” He said. 

He saw Elinna finally crack a smile at that. “I couldn’t agree more,” she said. “Wasteful, boring, depressing.”

He was itching to ask her if that was why she’d left what she’d had as a home for…well however long she’d been alive. She looked remarkably young, but with half-elves that hardly meant much. For all he knew she was his age. 

“Elinna, do you mind if I ask how old you are?” he asked. 

She looked up at him, her brow quirking. “Uhm–I’ve had twenty-eight summers so far,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

Ah–around ten years younger than he was. No wonder she seemed so restless when she’d come to find him at his tower. Most Wizards were well into their studies at Blackstaff by now, or at least had some reasonable amount of aptitude with the weave. “Just curious,” he said shrugging. “You look young but you’re also not complaining, or panicking, or well–other things I would expect a young person to be doing in this situation.”

He wasn’t sure if he was reading it correctly, but he could have sworn that she pressed her lips a bit to avoid smiling. Was the poor girl such a stranger to praise that the simple pointing out of her maturity could make her have to stop a flustered smile from forming on her lips?”

“I guess I just feel like anything is preferable to being stuck in that dusty old tower,” she said. 

There was a sort of…sadness to her words. A quality he recognized first hand. 

Not sadness, he realized as he saw one of his own feelings mirrored back at him. Regret. 

But that was not a subject he wished to bring up–not when the questions could so easily be turned back onto him.

“Well, Elinna,” he said, changing the subject. “You have Gale of Waterdeep with you–I’m a captive audience as we walk to the guild hall. Anything I can impress you with?” 

It was an olive branch, of sorts. It, of course, wasn’t the first time he’d met some hopeful magician who wanted to pick his brain. Usually he politely shooed them away, but he figured that extending the offer might cheer her up.

“I’m quite well read on the subject,” she answered. 

Wait…had he missed the question while he was patting himself on the back for being open to bragging? “Sorry–which subject is that?” he asked.

Her face flushed and she gave him a furtive look with those pretty green eyes. She cleared her throat and pushed some hair behind her ear. 

“Uhm–you–” she said finally. “I’ve read everything the archive has that even has a tangential mention of your name in it.”

He blinked, feeling glad for the fact that she was looking most pointedly away from him. “Ah,” he said, trying to master his tone. “Well–should we crosscheck the scribe’s records? Tell me what you know and I can correct anything that’s wrong.”

“We’ll be here for hours if I do that…” she mumbled under her breath. 

Now it was his turn to flush–until he realized–

“Wait, I thought you said that the scribes don’t read the records–” he said. 

“I did,” she said, looking over at him with a sheepish little smile. “That’s why they said I’m not suited for the work. It’s why they keep me on shelving duty.”

Ah–that was what she meant when she said she was used to climbing.

Suddenly there was an uncomfortable pressure in his skull as he saw flashes of giant stacks of dusty tomes, heard the squeaking of a half-broken wheel on a cart, felt rawness on his fingertips from shelving books and records; the deep ache of tired muscles.

When he was able to focus again, Elinna was crouched a few feet ahead, her gloved hands pressing on the sides of her head. 

“W-was that a memory?” Gale asked. “Did you just send me a memory?”

“No,” she said weakly. “Gods…that was…I could feel you in my head–”

“I didn’t–it wasn’t something I did on purpose,” he said frantically. 

He felt as embarrassed as a young man might be during his first time with a lover. It’d been years since he’d accidentally used his magic. Not since he was an adolescent. 

“I think it’s the parasite,” she said. “Mindflayers are part of a hive mind–maybe it’s the start of that tether forming to it.”

“I’m loath to face that possibility, but you may be right,” Gale said grimly as he walked over to her and offered a hand. “You alright?”

“Just exhausted, I think,” she said as she took his hand. “It felt like the parasite was pulling at the seams of my mind, extracting those images like thread through the eye of a needle.”

“Aptly put,” he said, finally helping her up. 

“Let’s just hurry to the guild,” she said. 

It was a bit of a grueling trek after that. The pathway mostly uphill and on rocky, uneven pathways. Wherever this guild branch was, it was clear enough to him that the scribes had no interest in being bothered or visited. He wasn’t so worried about himself, though–if anything, he was worried about Elinna. 

Thinking about it–she’d originally mentioned that she was looking for a place to live when he met her and she’d asked him to take her on as a student. He wondered when the last time she’d slept was. It wasn’t uncommon for passengers unused to traveling by ship to sleep poorly on them. The voyage between the Moonshae Islands and Waterdeep was probably close to a tenday, give or take a day or two. 

He felt a little guilty, now, that he had let her climb up the cliffside to help them get their bearings; that he couldn’t be of more assistance with some kind of charm or boon. 

As predicted, it took them about another two hours to make it to the base of a decaying old castle. He didn’t recognize it, and from what he could tell there were no real markings on it to distinguish what lineage or people it could have belonged to at one point. 

He looked up as another dire raven–or perhaps the same one he hadn’t seen before–took flight from one of the crumbling parapets, then he looked over at Elinna. 

She was still damp with sweat, but her exerted flush had given way to an almost sickly sort of pallor. He worried for a moment that she may already be starting the process of ceremorphosis–but if that was the case, why hadn’t the same happened to him? 

“Fucking stairs,” she groaned as she bent over and braced her hands on her knees. “I think I may need to sit for just a moment.”

Gale looked at the stairs and then back at her. He quirked his lips slightly, weighing the number of stairs against the health of his knees. 

“I know once you sit it will be all the more difficult for you to get up and get going,” he said. “Let me carry you the rest of the way.”

She balked at him, her verdant eyes wide and a bit of her flush returning to her freckled cheeks. He tried not to think about how charming the look of surprise was. “Y-you can’t,” she said. “I’m filthy–and drenched besides. And I’ll be too heavy.”

“Nonsense,” he insisted. “You hardly come up to my shoulder–and it’s not as if I’m a fine example of cleanliness at the moment. You can tell me proper decorum as we make our way up.”

“Gale–”

“I won’t take no for an answer,” he said with a little teasing glimmer in his eyes. 

He kneeled in front of her, back toward her, and patted his shoulder. “Climb on,” he said. 

There was nothing for a moment and he almost looked back to see if she was going to stubbornly refuse. But just as he was going to, he felt tentative fingertips on his right shoulder; then his left. She smoothed her hand toward the front of him, drawing a tingling line along his collarbones. He tried not to flinch as her hands joined right over the spot the orb burned in his chest, but he couldn’t stop it. 

She froze and almost started withdrawing. He reached up and closed a single hand over both of hers. 

“Did I hurt you?” she asked him.

“Not at all,” he said. “Remember–I’ve been a recluse for some time. Just forgot what it felt like to be touched by someone who isn’t a tressym.”

There was one more moment of hesitation and then finally, Elinna put her weight onto him, hitching her legs above his hips. 

“Alright,” he said. “Going up.”

He scooped his hands under her knees and rose to his feet. 

Truth be told, she was a touch heavier than he’d expected. And he realized with a bit of rueful interest that her body was a little…softer…than he’d anticipated. Even through her layers of canvas and leather, he could feel the supple swell of her thighs, her hips, her breasts…

He shook his head and cleared his throat as he started to climb the stairs. 

“So, what’s our story?” he asked. 

“Mmn–story?” she breathed against his ear. 

Gods, she sounded like a freshly roused lover in the morning. 

“You’re not falling asleep back there, are you?” he asked. 

“Trying not to,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“Keep talking to me,” he said. “It will help you stay awake.”

And give me something to stop my mind from drifting to what might be beneath your clothes. He thought with no shortage of disgust in himself. 

“Mmh–visitors are prohibited, usually,” she said, her sleepy slurring sending a chill up his spine. “Since you’re carrying me in…maybe tell them you found me unconscious on the ground. They can refuse scholars, but they have an oath to help the needy. Hence…me…”

“The lady deceives,” Gale teased. “I thought you were above such dishonesty.”

She gave a quiet chuckle. “If the guild needs a bit of encouragement to do what is right, who am I to deny it?” Then after a moment. “Thank you…for carrying me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no bother,” he said. 

And it really wasn’t, aside from his own traitorous thoughts about her. His knees weren’t even tired when he reached the top of the stairs. He looked back at her sidelong. “Hang onto me will you–afraid I’ll need one of these hands.”

He regretted asking her to do that immediately. Her thighs squeezed a little tighter around his middle and he suddenly wished for death. He opened the door as quickly as he could, and went back to holding her knee. 

Inside there was…no one to be found. At least not at first. 

Then came the sound of soft soles scuffing on stone stairs. He gazed to the right, seeing a shadow elongate as it grew further and further away from some torch or sconce further up on the stairs. 

A moment later, a wizened man peered at him through small spectacles on a crooked nose. 

He was dressed somewhat like Elinna, though the embroidery and fastenings on his clothes were finer. On his lapel, he wore a golden dire raven pin with a quill snatched in it’s beak.The pin was connected to a chain from which dangled a single golden key. 

“You’ve reached The Scribe’s Perch,” he said, his voice quiet and willowy, like it had frayed through years of neglect. “I fear we’re not taking visitors.”

In front of Gale’s chest, Elinna’s arms went slack and her body went a little heavier. Her head rested fully on his shoulder, her sleeping breaths gusting warmly on the back of his neck. He supposed it worked better for the tale he had to weave–though he did worry for the poor girl. 

“I’ve found one of your acolytes on the path some way away from here. She seems feverish–likely hungry and dehydrated. She’s gone in and out of consciousness but told me to find you here and ask for you help. Help for both of us.”

The old man merely tilted to get a look at Elinna with a somewhat disinterested expression. “Mnh…there are protocols in place for this, yes,” he said. “An inconvenience to say the least, though. We will have to make arrangements for your supper.”

Gale felt his ire flare and found himself understanding why Elinna seemed so sour about where she’d been reared. It was a wonder she made it out of childhood with her curiosity and her tenacity intact. 

“If it’s too much of a bother, I can see to producing a meal for us,” he said, trying his best to master his tone. 

“No, no,” the man said. “The smells–the oils–they could upset the balance and focus of the archives. Come–I will see you to a lodging for the night. I am afraid I must ask you to stay there and to not wander our halls freely. And you must leave come morning.”

“I thought you had an oath to help the needy,” Gale said. 

“The qualifying criteria which defines who or what is needy is not agreed upon,” he said. “The girl is unconscious, but you stand and walk freely. Surely she is hardly needy if she has you.”

“She’s one of your acolytes,” Gale said. “Surely you can’t be so callous.”

“She’s not an acolyte from The Perch. We do not allow women among our ranks–their scents and scintillations bring focus away from posterity. I allow you to stay only because she still wears our colors and because we’ve received no missive about a disgraced acolyte,” he said. “But there has been a great collision on the shoreline and we work tirelessly to record it.”

“Well you’re in luck–we’re survivors from that crash–we can help you–”

“No. We only accept the accounts of verified scouts,” he said. “Now come–I’ve wasted precious time already. My quill will have started to dry out.”

Gale bit his tongue and simply nodded–worried that if the man showed is rudeness and disinterest again he would snap at the Scribe and lose them a night of rest and the chance to bathe and change. 

Their ungracious host led them up the stairs, past a massive steel door singing with wards, and to a doorway about as tall as Elinna. The Scribe opened the lock with his tiny golden key–a skeleton key it seemed–and gestured him inside. 

Gale bent a bit at the knees, careful to mind Elinna’s head as he ducked into the room. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

“Supper is at seven bells. Porridge, roasted carrots and river fish–you will have to come retrieve it yourself–the kitchens are down the stairs we traveled up and through the small northern wooden door,” their host said. 

And with that, the man simply closed the door and left Gale alone with Elinna. 

Gale looked about the room. 

It was small, about the size of the larder in his tower, and barren. In one corner, a threadbare sheet hung to offer pock-marked privacy should one bathe in the water-swollen, wooden tub there. There was a single desk with a nearly-spent candle perched slantingly in a chamberstick made of brass. Against the far wall stood the bed–

The Bed. 

Singular. 

Only one bed. 

Oh hells, it would be a very long night indeed. 

He carried Elinna over to the bed and carefully cradled her against his back as he pulled back the mildew-smelling covers. Beneath was an old hay mattress. He felt loath to place her on it, but he hadn’t enough energy to conjure something more comfortable for her. 

He supposed it didn’t matter for tonight–the poor girl just needed some sleep. 

He carefully placed her in the bed and hesitated, pondering.

She’d spent so much time during their travels complaining of the feeling of viscera in her clothes; her shoes. He could only imagine how terrible it would feel for her to wake up, warm and damp from feverish sleep, only to still feel soggy boots and garments on your body. 

It wasn’t proper. He wasn’t even sure it would be welcome. But it was a gesture toward her comfort he could actually provide. 

He carefully slipped off her boots, setting them off to the side in a blood-soaked heap. Then he removed her leather gloves, and finally, the waistcoat she wore. 

Beneath her green canvas, she wore a simple muslin dress that fell just slightly off the shoulders. He noted with a bit of curious mirth, that she had a smattering of freckles across the bare skin of her decolletage and arms as well. He wondered how many times she’d had to sneak away from her duties to get those. 

Then he saw something else. 

On the inside of one delicate wrist, he spotted the hint of a violet patch of skin. In a brief panic he turned her arm over to get a better view of it, worried that her transformation may be starting, after all. 

Instead, what he found was scarring. Violet scars forming a ladder of tidy caning marks on the tender skin of the inside of her arm. 

“No wonder you wanted to get out,” he said under his breath as he brushed his thumb against the marks. They were only barely raised. They’d been there a long time then. For some reason it hurt his heart to think of a smaller, squeakier Elinna as her caretakers tried and clearly failed to tame the wonder out of her. 

Perhaps it was because he had also been punished severely for his ambition and thirst for knowledge, but he could no longer bear to see her in the greens, tans and creams of The Scribe’s Guild. Not when there was so much she’d had to fight to keep hold of. 

He thought he could maybe find a pocket somewhere. If he rested he ought to be able to, anyway. Or if not, he could try to look around the grounds and scrounge something up for each of them to change into. And maybe a few supplies for setting up camp, too, since they wouldn’t be granted time to catch their bearings at The Perch. 

He pulled the worn blanket up enough to cover her arms, but not so high that the smell of mildew could wake her. 

He walked over to the tiny door and looked back over his shoulder one more time to make sure she was still quite asleep. 

And then he slipped out of their sorry room to find a place to restore himself.