#bear hunt rephrased

[whumpookies]

Do you know that children's book we're going on a bear hunt? Well what about the whump version? We're going on a whump hunt! We're going to find some great whump! What a beautiful day! 🤣

Anookie...

Now for one, the creator of bear hunt better not hunt me down for doing this...

Two, this was a brilliant idea!!

Oh and Anookie, I'm blaming you for this...

Ready.....

We’re goin’ on a whump hunt,

We’re going to catch a hurt one,

I’m not scared

What a beautiful day!

Oh look! It’s some long, sharp objects!

Can’t go over it,

Can’t go under it,

Can’t go around it,

Got to go through it!

Ah stabby stabby ..

We’re goin’ on a whump hunt,

We’re going to catch some comfort,

I’m not scared

What a beautiful day!

Oh look! It’s a fevered brow.

Can’t go over it,

Can’t go under it,

Can’t go around it,

Got to go cool it!

Patty patty..

We’re goin’ on a whump hunt,

We’re going to catch a whumpy one,

I’m not scared

What a beautiful day!

Oh look! It’s angst.

Can’t go over it,

Can’t go under it,

Can’t go through it,

Got to beat it.

We’re goin’ on a whump hunt,

We’re going to catch a big one,

I’m not scared

What a beautiful day!

Oh look! A deep, dark comfort.

Can’t go over it,

Can’t go under it,

Can’t go through it,

Got to go cuddle it better.

Uh, oh! It’s whumpy in here.

I feel something,

It has lots of angst!

It has sharp objects!

A brow of fevered heat!

It’s a whump Cookie!!!

Quick!

Hurry back through the sharp objects stabby stabby,

Back past the fevered brow, patty patty,

Back through the angst, cry-y cry-y

Into The house and lock the door!

Grab the cookies and say no more!

Phew!

That was a bit whumpy!

[langliblade]

xiao chiye's first and last love

"I am a man burning with ambitions, and Qudu is the teacher that taught me to restrain all those desires. My encounter with Lanzhou did not happen by accident. He was the last line of defense when I was about to hit my limit and lose it. He is also the indulgence and freedom I lost and regained."

**if anyone ever reads this (i doubt it unless i share this on my twt) and anything in here is familiar ...it's bc i rephrased some of my tweets while typing this. anyway.....

desire has always been xiao chiye's shackle.

xiao chiye's haughty young master act was a defense. it was a way to be on guard and to hide his true feelings and intentions. still, it's not like he faked all of that. he's admitted to himself multiple times that he gets pretty crazy about things and he has always been someone unrestrained.

to the criticizing eye of the noble clans and court officials in qudu, they think that xiao chiye has a short temper and is the usual entitled young master especially when he's always with li jianheng. they go to donglong street almost every night to enjoy themselves, to drink and chat until the sun rises, to surround themselves with beautiful women.

so it isn't really surprising that they think xiao chiye is a crazy dude when it comes to sex. of course i say "crazy" as in he's crazy in whatever standards they had.

what no one would believe, or even consider, is that xiao chiye's greatest desire has always only been libei. being sent to qudu wasn't just being separated from his family and his home-- it was also losing his first love.

and isn't it crazy that probably his first experience with love is loss? add that to the fact that the night he slept with lanzhou in the room, the night he thought "wow i am really filled with immense desire for this man", was the night he thought back to his shifu, zuo qianqiu's tragic story. how he loved and how he had to win a battle by letting go of that love.

to him, desire is something that will someday hinder his ambition. it will hinder his comeback to libei, it will be an obstacle for his goal of standing on equals with his father and eldest brother.

"I attempted to survey the horizons for a glimpse of Libei from the top of the tallest building in Qudu, but even Meng could not see it when it flew up into the clouds. It was then I understood for the first time how much of a remote possibility it was to return home."

after the autumn hunt, he realized that it was a mistake to "put all his eggs in one basket" and show off his capability. he thought it would be enough for him to go home, but it only tightened his cage. now that everyone knows he isn't just a haughty young master, they are now even more scared to let him go. they refuse to let him go home and be an even bigger problem in the future.

he has given up on his desire and chose to kept it in.

and then he meets shen zechuan.

shen wei's son that was made to bear the guilt of a hundred thousand deaths. the powerless man who has no one in this world. he too is in his own cage. despite all that, xiao chiye sees that this man still has the desire to live on even if it's "more of an agony than dying".

xiao chiye recognizes himself in him, he sees how he's also just smiling and bearing it for the sake of something else. for the sake of revenge? to go back home? whatever it is, he sees that they're in a similar kind of pain.

"He was the last line of defense when I was about to hit my limit and lose it. He is also the indulgence and freedom I lost and regained." he saw that to have desire is to be human. it isn't just a hindrance, it could also be a way forward. simply by meeting shen lanzhou, by recognizing their shared pain, by understanding him, he had been changed.

his first love was libei, and he lost it.

so the next time he experiences a similar feeling he used to get taming eagles and horses, when riding freely in the open grass, when being a wolf in his nature-- it's not a shock that he becomes obsessed with that feeling immediately. it's not a shock that it starts from lust mingled with the painful grasping for a feeling similar to happiness. it's not a shock that he finds the love he lost in shen zechuan.

[j-digital-archives]

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧ The Elegance of Adulthood: A Stylish Journey from 9 to 5 to Cloud 9 𓆩♡𓆪✨🤍

Hello once more, darlings! It seems I'll be gracing these digital pages more often now, given that yesterday marked my departure from the corporate realm. I must confess, I felt rather content and elated. But, as I sauntered out of that imposing edifice, Mother Nature had quite the mood swing. Instead of a sun-soaked day, she served up a blustery, cloudy ensemble. I mean, seriously? Today was supposed to be all about sunshine and rainbows, not a storm and torrential downpour. But fear not, my spirits remain uncrushed. I decided to get my groove back with a little Spotify action, only to realize that I was stuck on the free version. The shuffle and those pesky ads were absolute party poopers. And don't even get me started on Spotify's decision to serve up some melancholic, soul-searching tunes. I mean, come on! Were they trying to match the weather with their playlist? It ruffled my feathers, but alas, I had to bear with it as I needed some melodic company for my train journey homeward.

The very moment I inked my name on that exit document, it felt as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Suddenly, the world felt a little lighter, as if I'd shed a burden. Oh, the sweet taste of freedom! And let's not forget, on my last day, I stumbled upon a secret shortcut from the office building to the nearby mall. I couldn't help but think, "I've been on this grind for a whole year, and yet, I had no clue this secret passage existed?" It was a humbling reminder to keep an eagle eye on my surroundings.

Now, here I am, in the land of joblessness, pondering my next move. I've been on the job hunt since early 2023, before the contract's final chapter, and to my surprise, only a handful of companies have graced my inbox with those dreaded rejection emails. The question of what my heart truly desires, how I shall support myself and my family in the financial realm, remains an enigmatic puzzle. If you were to inquire about my willingness to jump back into the corporate or government machinery, my answer would be a resounding "No." Why, you ask? Because I'm simply not cut out for working under the thumb of authority. Is it just me, or do you share this sentiment?

In the realm of creative expression, I find myself at a loss, all the while the neighbor downstairs hosts a rather raucous gathering. What on earth is transpiring down there, I wonder? With that, I shall bid adieu for today. Wishing all of you a splendid day, my dears!

And now, a little query for those perusing this digital diary: Does your occupation bring you genuine joy? Hold on, let me rephrase that. Are you genuinely vibing with your job?

[angerworn]

------it's up in the air whether or not morgan sees the actual ghost of her brother, alex, or if it's simply her guilt keeping his memory (or what she perceives as his memory) alive.

grief is one of the main themes of morgan, and this blog, and her brother was the most important person in her life. let me rephrase, alex sanders is the most important person in morgan's life.

she was never jealous of him, that he was the golden boy or that he was the prodigy in the family. she admired him, and certainly idolized his bond with eli (a post for another day), but it was never jealousy or envy that drove her. for a period of time she strove to hunt more like alex did, but realized his flash was not really her style.

she sees him in everything. fall weather, the crunch of dead leaves, the smell of petrichor. the hearth in the winter and the way the fire dances, the snow-lined window sill. she will never get over the loss of her brother, a wound that's just as fresh today as it was when he passed away. rationalization cannot ever reason why he was the person who died, why she was left to bear that loss completely alone. and morgan has stopped trying to understand it.

while she does occasionally visit his grave, she tends to pay her homage to her brother by sleeping in his bed more than her own. she also steals his house sweaters and wears them when she's home. alex's bedroom is almost perfectly intact from when he was last in it, save from the evidence that morgan spends her time in there ... and the downturned pictures featuring eli (it hurts too much to see him, still).

as gross as it may sound, she hasn't washed his sheets yet because she can still smell him, sometimes. and where she once cried because of the grief of his loss, now she's simply angry.

something that specter of her brother often chides her for.

[prey-4-me]

Yeyinde: Ch 1 - The Enemy of my Enemy…

Yautja x fem!OC, developing relationship

What do you want from me

Why don’t you run from me

What are you wondering

What do you know

Bury a friend— Billie Eilish

Hard Meat - Yautja for Xenomorph

Soft Meat - Yautja for ooman prey/ other non-Xeno prey

Ooman - Yautja for human

Yeyinde - Yautja for Brave One

A/N - I’m stuck on this story so Im going to try something… Im going to post the first 2 chapters and then you give me ideas for what happens next… choose your own adventure? Let’s see how this goes. ♥️♥️

***

The ooman was unusual. She ran of course, but when cornered, she didn’t cower or beg, or even panic. Instead she turned around and calmly fired four shots into his face. Enamored, he had let her live.

At the time, he hadn’t over analyzed it. He was in the middle of a hunt, after all. He had disarmed her so that she would not be a threat to the other Yautja. He had done her this small favor and moved on.

That evening, as he and the others sat around the campfire, he had encountered her again. A bird had flown out of a tree. He and the others knew what it meant, but played along. They had come from the trees, an entertaining surprise. In the fray that followed, he had spotted her facing off with a Young Blood. She was holding her own, but getting tired. 

He had gutted his current opponent and intervened. Growling and flaring his mandibles, he fended off the lesser warrior. Turning to her, he grunted curiously.

She had spewed many swears at him, lunging. Catching her in a bear hug, he had squeezed so that she couldn’t expand her chest. He waited calmly until she passed out. Uninterested in the rest of the fight, he had jumped up into a tree with her. Sitting languidly, he cradled her in his lap and watched the younger warriors dispatch their prey. It took forever. He snorted, bored. He was babysitting on this hunt. He had lost a wager. As a Blooded warrior, he preferred larger quarry. He clicked his mandibles, annoyed. He was missing out on a Hard Meat hunt right now. Then he reconsidered. He had in fact encountered an interesting situation. He looked down at the unconscious ooman.

Features calm, she looked peaceful. He studied her face. Pleasing to the eye. He had half a mind to maim her for her stupidity. But… no. He had no real desire to hurt her. What to do with her then? He could release her in the forest when the hunt was over. In the meantime, he’d keep her close to keep her safe.

***

She had been quiet upon waking. He speculated she was terrified. The aftermath of death was all around her. His companions were preparing their ooman trophies from the ambush last night. He grabbed her and pulled her into a seated position. He wasn’t too versed in ooman, but he could communicate somewhat. He wanted to talk to her for some reason.

“What is your name?” He rumbled softly.

Her eyes grew wide. “You… you just spoke.”

“Yeah.” He used ooman slang to impress her.

She stared at him for a moment, stunned. Collecting herself, she asked trepidatiously, “Are you going to kill me?”

“No.”

“But all the others…” She gestured at the gory scene.

“The others are acceptable trophies for the… Young Bloods.” He hoped he was using the right words.

“And you?” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“This is no hunt for me.” He gestured vaguely, “No challenge.” She looked a bit insulted. “But you fight well,” he added quickly, partially backpedaling.

“What will you do to me, then?”

“Let you go. After the hunt.”

She was incredulous. “Why?”

“Shouldn’t you be…” he clicked his mandibles. He didn’t know the word for ‘happy.’ Finally he offered, “Not sad.”

“Well. You have a point.” He only partially understood her. She could tell apparently, and rephrased, “You are right.”

One of the Young Bloods came up, “Why is she still alive?” She nodded at the ooman.

The ooman looked nervously from her to him. Even though they were speaking Yautja language, she understood the comment wasn’t good for her. He stood, “Don’t worry about it.” He took a menacing step towards the younger Yautja. She backed off, grumbling.

“Thank you.”

He looked over at her, halfway sitting down. He made a confused noise. She seemed to get the drift.

“I mean… for protecting me. Now and earlier. I know that he would have killed me. And my skull would be bleached white already just like that one,” She pointed to the accumulating trophies. He gruffly nodded, but didn’t elaborate, having only partially understood.

She dropped it, instead asking, “How long is the rest of the hunt?”

He searched for the right ooman words for a moment. “Three days.”

“Oh. But there’s no more humans around here. You already killed all of us.”

“We are… going… another place.” He stumbled through the sentence.

“Where?”

“Down river.”

She thought about it. “There’s only some small villages that way. Nothing worth your time. No warriors.”

“Up river?”

“Nothing. But,” she emphasized, “further inland here there is supposed to be a camp of guerrillas.”

He tilted his head. She realized he had not understood. “Nothing up river. But… away from river in land. Warriors.”

“Mmm,” he grumbled, considering her suggestion.

“Why you…?” He gestured, unable to ask why she wanted to help them hunt more of her kind.

She understood anyway, “Because they killed and pillaged my village when I was a kid.” She realized she had said too much too fast again, “The warriors… killed my home.”

Hm. He decided to try it. “We go inland.”

She smiled.

“You stay here.”

She frowned.

“You want to go?” He was surprised.

“I can fight.”

“You are small.” He clicked disapprovingly.

“So? I would be fighting humans, not you.”

He considered. “Tomorrow we see.”

She shrugged, then leaned back into a log. “I’m hungry.” He realized he had to care for her needs for the next three days. Ah. Oh well. He grabbed some freeze dried meat and tossed it to her.

“What is it?”

“Meat.”

“… human?”

He laughed, “No.”

She relaxed and started to chew at it.

He returned to cleaning his weapons for tomorrow.

***

He had not explained to the others that the change in plans was due to the ooman. He didn’t feel like dealing with their attitudes about it. Curiosity had gotten the best of him, so he had allowed the ooman to accompany them. She was armed with a small blade. It looked big in her hands.

They had cloaked and stalked silently through the forest, scanning and listening for signs of oomans. His ooman led the way, appearing to be alone. Bait. He had not mentioned this part of the plan to her. She would be fine, anyway.

She tread carefully, impressively quiet for an ooman. Their species were notorious for being loud. It was part of the reason soft meat hunts were so boring for him. It was just too easy.

His hunting party stopped abruptly. They let the ooman wander ahead a bit. There were other oomans up ahead. A camp, just like she had said. He clicked, curious to see what she would do when the hunting started.

The other Yautja called to each other with clicks and soft whistles. They split up to surround the encampment. He followed after his ooman, wanting to ensure she was not harmed.

She boldly snuck to the edge of the campsite. Crouching down in some foliage, she seemed to be waiting. He sidled up next to her. She greeted him very quietly, “Hi.”

“Hey,” he used some more slang he knew.

“When will it start?” She whispered. She was antsy.

“Very soon,” he reassured.

Suddenly, it began. A single scream ripped through the early morning air. Then there was noise everywhere. His ooman was off, into the fray almost before he realized it. He sighed and followed to keep her safe.

She let out an angry cry, knifing a man who was facing off with a Yautja. He went down to one knee. She slit his throat, blood spraying everywhere. She seemed satisfied. The young Yautja was angry, having been robbed of a kill. He snarled and snapped at her. She stood her ground, apparently knowing he was there to protect her. He stepped between the two, clicking to diffuse the tension. “There’s many oomans here… go find another one.” The young hunter grumbled, but fell back.

He turned to her and chastised, “You can’t take kill from Yautja.” She nodded, looking guilty for a moment. Then she shrugged. “Okay.” She turned and ran off. He followed, shaking his head.

***

The hunt had been successful. His ooman companion seemed especially pleased, which he found ironic. She took no trophies, although she did take a few more lives. His thoughts turned to releasing her. Would she be okay alone in this forest?

“I’m hungry.”

He snapped out of his reverie. Tossing her some food, he sat down across the fire from her. She made no small talk. Apparently she really was very hungry.

He waited until she was finished, then asked, “Where you go, when we go?”

She shrugged, looking crestfallen. “Don’t know.”

“Why sad?”

“I… have nowhere to go.”

“Nowhere?” He clicked, surprised.

“Not really.”

“How?” He though most humans lived in small groups.

“I told you. The warriors killed my home… my… family.”

He understood. He clicked softly, feeling bad for her. He was very close to his own kin.

She eyed him.

“What?”

“I could… go with you.”

He snorted, stunned she would suggest something like that.

“I can fight… I mean hunt.”

“You… no… hunt hard meat.”

“Why?”

“Too strong. You are… soft.”

She was indignant. It amused him. Finally he said, “You… go far from.. ungh… ground?”

“You mean space travel?”

He shrugged, unsure what she was saying.

“Leave… my home for… your home?” She tried.

“Yes. But. You cannot go home. Until we… go back.”

“So? I could see the stars.”

He realized he was considering. Why? Of all the species it could be. This soft meat wanted to come with him.

“Hm… you want? Yes?” He clicked apprehensively, tilting his head.

“Yes. Big yes.”

“Tomorrow, we see.” He turned away from her.

***

She had risen early, as if she was afraid of being left behind. She was sitting primly on a log. He closed his eyes again and stretched languidly, growling a greeting at her. He thought about their upcoming trip home. He had tried to debate it with himself, but he had already decided she was coming. How would he deal with the other Blooded Yauja’s reactions? Would she regret it? He sighed and sat up.

She watched him solemnly. Amused, he remained silent, letting the tension build. Finally it broke her, “Well? Yes or no?”

He snapped his mandibles together, amused. But enough playing. “Yes.”

She smiled broadly, surprising him again. She was a very interesting ooman.

Ch 2

[googledocsdyke]

it is SO funny that eric kripke originally envisioned dean as a “han solo” figure to sam’s “luke skywalker” because like. sure dean has the fast car and the scoundrel grin but he actually could not be further from han as soon as you begin to break down his actual values and priorities as a person, as a character. like han’s ENTIRE deal is that he is in the world for himself alone (at least until he meets luke and leia) and is jaded to his bone by Harrison Ford Sexy Cynicism TM and has the kind of loose morality where he sees every interaction as a transaction where he can accumulate money and freewheel out of town and i can hear you all saying ohhhh just like dean winchester but NO! you are wrong! dean’s morality from the very first episode is SO tightly knotted to filial and familial duty and to Fulfilling His Particular Path as a hunter like not to quote this in 2020 but literally saving people hunting things the family business!!!!! 

can you IMAGINE dean winchester being like “if i rescue leia what’s in it for me” lmfao i have to laugh. yes he too cares about very few people but that is because his heart is bound SO TIGHTLY to a miniscule family that there is no room there for anyone else. yes he too seems amoral and obviously like . Kills People but that’s because his morality is ENTIRELY centred around his almost video-game-protagonist questlike duty (he is literally thee Righteous Man) of the limited to-do list he has set out for himself: protect brother, please dad, save world, save cas, etc. han solo doesn’t have a fucking to-do list!!!!! dean winchester would never run away from home!!!!!!!! he’s not even CYNICAL the way han is like this is the man who after thirteen years of onscreen brutalisation and betrayal and disappointment and horror and pain is still fundamentally like YES we’re in my favourite scooby doo story i hope it ends well :) like he is so deeply earnest about the things he cares for and it JUST doesn’t add up as a han equivalency none of it does

and it all just feels so indicative of a fundamentally early 2000s nerdboy approach to building character where dean winchester was first conceptualised not as a Person but as a compulsive repetition of established tropes, established Maleness, rephrased again and again as some kind of fucked-up substitution equation (impala = millennium falcon, seedy kansas bar = cantina, i love you = i know) that fails to recognise that man (protagonist) cannot live on aestheticised References alone . which has all been covered repeatedly by people much smarter than me but it still bears repeating because it’s CRAAAAAAZY and i also CANNOT STOP thinking about how a genuinely good and complex character emerged from these tired repetitions. like eric kripke went “this guy is a collection of Things That Indicate Coolness just like my favourite action hero” which just became an INCREDIBLE case of backfiring because 90% of dean’s action hero masculinity now only reads as sublimated gay desire à la “this man has wanted to fuck harrison ford since the 80s”. and so like somehow dean’s complex personhood not only pushed THROUGH those tired tropes but also made them more legible in a totally new way like i really do believe that dean winchester is a real person pulled to the surface by a text that vehemently hates him all while insisting that it is writing him out of reverence and love. the writers love dean but only in the way that john “loved” him: they love what they engineered him to be and hate not only what he ended up becoming, but what he always was. 

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 21 - Nowhere to Run [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, blood, nightmares.

Word Count: 4300

Summary: Everyone needs a shelter.

For all your life, your sister had always said she hated watching horror movies with you because you would always criticize every character and their choices in the movie.

Who would even stay where they were when they knew there was danger outside, when they knew there was something coming for them?

You had never thought you’d learn the answer first hand;

Because there was nothing else to do, and because that was exactly what you were doing.

Spencer and the rest of his team had sent you away from that basement so that you could get some fresh air and at least attempt to get away from the greeting written on the wall with blood but you knew it was impossible.

There was no running away from that, you had seen it already.

You dangled your legs off the pier back and forth, keeping your gaze on the lake that looked so calm that it was almost like a painting. Funny, you hadn’t ever stopped to enjoy it when you were still a child, you had never actually sat there on the pier to take a breath, wrapped in the safety that would soon disappear.

The footsteps coming closer pulled you out of your thoughts and you turned you head as Spencer sat down next to you.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you croaked out and he ran his fingers through his curls.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

You shook your head, “I’m not sure what home is for me at this point, to be honest with you,” you murmured, “Besides I heard the other agents talking, you guys are going to be pretty busy the moment the rest of your team gets here.”

He heaved a sigh, biting inside his cheek but you kept your gaze on the lake.

“It makes it official right?” you asked, “All these murders…It’s not really about my father’s legacy. It’s about me.”

He stole a look at you, “Y/N…”

“It’s okay professor,” you said, “Trust me, I’m not going to run and scream.”

“The profile is changing constantly with every piece of evidence-“

“Spencer.”

He let out a breath, pursing his lips.

“It is pointing that way so far,” he muttered, “It doesn’t matter though. His legacy or an obsession with you, we’re still going to catch him.”

A silence fell upon you and you cleared your throat, pointing at the woods on the other side of the lake.

“Mina and I used to play the princess and the monster over there,” you said, “I mean… It was either me who was the princess or Mina and I were saving some imaginary princess because Mina wanted to be friends with her.” You used air quotes, “I don’t know whose shock was more fake when she came out, mine or mom’s.”

He let out a small laugh, “Yeah?”

“Mm hm, and right over there,” you pointed at the right, “Linc chased me with a worm in his hand to scare me off, and I ended up falling into the damn lake.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “Then Mina pushed him into the lake too and we all got grounded for the whole weekend.” You let out a breath and pointed back at the cabin with your thumb, “And right there, dad showed me how to kill someone for the first time.”

His head shot up, “What?”

You scoffed, “He didn’t tell you that during those sessions?”

Spencer shook his head, frowning.

“He taught me…” you wetted your lips, “How to- how to hunt, that’s what he called it. Predator and prey. After teaching me how to analyze places to find a weapon, he taught me how to find my way in the woods. Just in case. He used to um-“ you cleared your throat, “I don’t really remember all of it, I don’t know how much of it are nightmares or memories, but I remember once he dragged me here in the middle of the night, and he opened the door and there was this man…”

“Petal honey, don’t get so close to him,” your father called out from the kitchen he sharpened the knife as you took a step closer to the man who was gagged and bleeding profusely, still whimpering on the floor. Even in the dim light you could see the look of terror on his face and your heart skipped a beat as you turned your head to look at your father.

“Daddy, he-“ you shifted your weight from one foot to other, “Maybe we can just leave him like this. He’d be dead by the morning.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked before getting closer to you, flipping the knife in his hand and the man started yelling through the gag, but it was muffled. Your father extended his hand, motioning at the huge teddy bear you were hugging closer to your chest and you bit on your lip, then handed him that.

“You can get the teddy back after you answer 3 questions right, you know the rules,” he told you, “Alright, if I wanted him to die quickly, where would I stab?”

“Jugular.”

“Where’s the jugular?”

You pointed at the man’s neck, “There.”

“Good. What if I wanted him to suffer for hours with just one stab wound?”

You paused and scrunched up your nose, forcing your mind for the information before you looked up at him.

“In the stomach,” you said, “Stomach acid hurts.”

He thought for a second, then handed you the teddy back.

“Good job honey,” he said and walked to the man with the knife in his hand.

“I couldn’t do anything,” you pressed your lips together, “For hours and hours he tortured him and when we got back home, I went to bed and the next morning I wouldn’t stop shivering, I kept throwing up and my mom thought I had the flu so we ended up not coming to the cabin that weekend. I know how he—” you clicked your tongue, “I know how he pretends to be a normal guy. During those interviews, that documentary, even in those sessions with you he keeps pretending like he’s normal, but I know him. I know the real monster and I…”  you sniffled and cleared your throat, “Profiler or not, you have no idea what he’s capable of. He put me through actual hell, Spencer. No wonder I can’t remember half of this shit, I think I’d lose my mind if I did.”

“Y/N…”

“I didn’t stop him.”

He frowned, “How old were you?”

“Seven.”

“You couldn’t have stopped him even if you wanted to,” Spencer told you, “You were a child.”

“I could’ve told someone,” you murmured, looking at the lake, “I could’ve done something.”

“You were a child,” he repeated, “Children trust their parents, okay? You know it as well as I do that he’s a master at manipulation. Whatever he has done, it’s not your fault.”

“I doubt those bodies in the basement would agree with you,” you managed to say and let out a humorless chuckle, “Besides, I’m my father’s daughter, remember? You told me so yourself.”

The impact of your words would’ve been surprising if you weren’t so distracted by your own misery. He pulled back as if you had just slapped him, his hazel eyes searching your face and he swallowed thickly, opening and closing his mouth like he was at loss for words.

“I didn’t mean—” he paused, shaking his head “Y/N, that wasn’t the truth.”

You grabbed the cigarette out of your purse and lit it, dangling your legs back and forth over the pier.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged your shoulders, “You’re not the first person to think that, and weirdly enough, you’re not the first ex to think that either-“

“That’s not what I think,” he insisted, “Nothing about you even suggests that you’re anything like him, behavior or psychological wise. I just wanted to—“ he hesitated for a moment, his jaw clenching, “Hurt you back.”

You tried to smile, still keeping your gaze on the lake as you exhaled the smoke.

“Congratulations professor, you’re pretty good at that.”

A silence fell upon you both as you twirled the cigarette between your fingers.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was so gentle that you turned your head to look at him, “I really am. I never should’ve hit below the belt, not like that.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Y/N.”

“No really,” you insisted, “I don’t want to talk about that anymore, I’m just so—“ you closed your eyes for a moment “God, I’m just so tired Spencer. You have no idea how tired I am.”

“I know.”

“And it just doesn’t end,” you murmured and opened your eyes, “Right? I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months now, and everything is getting so out of my control.”

“It will end soon.”

“But we don’t know that,” you insisted as almost a hysterical laugh escaped from your lips, “Do you want to hear the worst part? I don’t think this feeling will ever go away. At this point, I don’t even remember how it feels like not to be afraid.”

He heaved a sigh, then looked over his shoulder when Luke approached you two.

“Sorry guys,” he said, shifting his weight, “But um- Reid, we need you in there.”

“Can’t someone else-“

“Don’t,” you shook your head as you stood up and dusted off your jeans, “Seriously. Besides, the sooner you catch this guy, the sooner…I don’t know, the sooner things go back to normal, whatever that means.”

“You can’t just drive home like this.”

“I’ll drive her,” Luke said, making you turn your head,

“Dude, aren’t you needed here too?”

“I’m going to go back to help out Rossi,” he said, “Not all of the team has to be here, I mean-“ he nodded at Spencer, “We’ve got our genius here, he’s got it covered. I can take the babysitting duty.”

“No pastries for you anymore.”

“I would like to rephrase my statement,” he said quickly, making you smile before you shrugged your shoulders.

“Alright then, let’s go.”

“Y/N-“ Spencer started but you shot him a look.

“I’m fine,” you said, “Go do your Sherlock stuff, professor. Solve the case so that I can start planning weddings again instead of hanging around creepy cabins. I’m just gonna go home and get drunk, so you’ll probably get a voicemail or two from me, just saying.”

“Can’t wait,” Spencer smiled softly and you followed Luke to your car, then handed him the keys and got in the passenger seat. He started the car and you slipped a little in the seat, leaning your knees on the dash.

“How are you holding up?” Luke asked you and you heaved a sigh.

“I feel like I’m in a horror movie to be honest with you,” you muttered, “Who the fuck writes on a wall with blood, I mean like who are you, Michael Myers?”

“I didn’t mean the case,” he stole a look at you and you raised your brows.

“Ah, that,” you said, “Well, I don’t have a bff that sets me up with people in night clubs, so there’s that.”

He hissed in a breath, “Garcia told you.”

“Mm hm,” you looked out of the window, “No hard feelings, don’t worry. I dated lots of frat boys back when I was in college, so I’m very familiar with the bro code.”

“You dated frat boys?” he made a face and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah I started from the bottom and worked my way up to the genius back there.”

He chuckled, “I take it you still haven’t told him you threatened a serial killer because he happened to threaten him?”

“I would’ve done the same for anyone.”

“Bullshit.”

Your jaw dropped, “I let you drive my car and this is the thanks I get, Alvez?”

“Okay trust fund baby, I’m driving you home, you’re not doing me a favor.”

You let out a small laugh, “Eh, I’m not that bad.”

“Your sister threatened a whole police department using lawyers.”

“They had it coming,” you said and he cleared his throat.

“If it makes you feel any better, it was an actual fiasco.”

Your head shot up and you turned to him, “Hm?”

“That whole thing with Reid. He’s not over you.”

“He will be,” you murmured, “Eventually.”

“Do you want to hear why it was a fiasco?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s an exaggeration-“

“He spent the whole night talking about you,” he cut you off and your jaw dropped, “Yeah. More like, she asked him about his job and he mentioned the case, then talked about you and how you couldn’t be the killer for hours. For a second, I thought he’d go up to the DJ booth and start broadcasting from there.”

You could feel the warmth spreading through you, but you nibbled on your lip, trying to ignore it.

“I really hurt him Luke.”

He stole a look at you from the corner of his eye.

“I know,” he said, “That’s pretty clear. I don’t know which one is worse, that you hurt him or that it doesn’t seem to change anything on his part.”

You could feel the burning in your eyes but you slipped a little in your seat and kept your eyes on the road.

“Yeah,” you murmured, “I don’t know which one is worse either.”

                                                   ***

The worst thing about nightmares?

There was no escape from them, and no amount of booze could make them go away.

You woke up to your own scream and leaped out of the bed so fast that you got caught in your sheets and fell on your face, your ears ringing. You could feel the bile burning your throat, so you covered your mouth and rushed to the bathroom to throw up into the toilet, barely aware of the sobs rocking your body. You wiped at your mouth and stood up on shaky legs, then brushed your teeth, still breathing hard.

You were there again, in that graveyard with your father, but this time you couldn’t brush it off as just a nightmare.

It was way too detailed, way too familiar to be a nightmare.

You wiped at your forehead and washed your face with ice cold water, desperate for some sort of a relief and leaned over the sink, closing your eyes for a moment.

“Fuck this shit,” you rasped out to yourself before turning the tap off and raised your glances to look in the mirror.

Well.

You looked exactly like how you felt.

You still didn’t trust your legs but still managed to leave the bathroom, Making your way to your bedroom was more than enough to give you goosebumps, but you snatched your phone off the bedside table. You almost dropped it because of how badly you were trembling with fear, but managed to hold it tighter, found his name in the contacts and took the phone to your ear.

He answered immediately.

“Hello?”

“Spencer, hi,” you said, still taking deep breaths, “I um… I had this- this nightmare and I- I need to talk to you. Can we meet somewhere?”

He hesitated for a moment, “Are you okay? Why are you breathing so fast?”

“Not a panic attack,” you wiped at your nose, “Not yet anyway.”

“Okay, I’m still coming over-“

“No!” you cut him off, then licked your lips, “No I can’t…. I can’t stay here right now, I need to get out of here. Can we please meet somewhere or-or-“

“How about my place?” he asked and you heard the unmistakable clinking of keys, “You can’t drive like that, I’ll come and pick you up, wait there-“

“No I’ll just take a taxi.”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll take a taxi, just send me the location,” you told him and hung up, quickly got dressed, got into your coat, then went downstairs when your taxi arrived. You still felt like you could throw up again, but the cool air coming from the open car window helped as the driver started the car after you gave him the location.

There was a beauty in the city at night, especially in chilly nights like these. The small raindrops falling down your face offered some kind of a small comfort while you tried your hardest to ignore the images flashing through your mind, taking a deep breath, letting the cold air fill your lungs. You leaned your head to the open window, closing your eyes and letting the noise of the city drag you out of your own mind.

By the time the taxi pulled over, you were almost lost in your thoughts and only when the driver let you know that you were there you opened your eyes. You paid him, and looked up at the building before making your way inside.

It was almost strange how you hadn’t seen his apartment when you two were dating, but now here you were.

After the break up. At three in the morning.

You wiped at your nose and fixed your hair before you knocked on the door and tried to control your breathing, but that felt way too difficult. As soon as he opened the door, everything you had planned to tell him in your head disappeared and you looked up at him in complete silence for a couple of seconds, you had almost forgotten how he looked when he wasn’t in his work clothes. A warmth filled you, the urge to rush into his arms taking over you but you managed to fight the urge and stepped into the apartment, desperately searching for the right words.

“I had that nightmare, again.” You turned to him as soon as you entered the living room, stumbling over your words, “That graveyard nightmare, but Spencer I think it wasn’t just a dream, I think you were right and it was a memory and there was someone else but I can’t see a face and—“

“Y/N.”

“And I think we were there because of me because it all just connected, we were at that graveyard and he was actually digging a grave and I can remember the face of the victim but not—“

“Sweetheart, breathe.” he approached you in three long steps and his warm hands cupped your cheek so that he could look at you better, “I’m here, I’m listening, okay? Just breathe and tell me. Slowly.”

You swallowed thickly, looking up at him.

“I had that nightmare again,” you managed to say, “But I think that’s a memory.”

“Okay,” he nodded, “How?”

“Because at the graveyard, dad told me something,” you said, “He was- he was digging a grave, and he said, Remember, you’re not supposed to make them bleed if you can’t kill them. And I remembered when that happened, back at the cabin, during the training, I… I untied one of the victims and pretended like he got out of them somehow.”

His hand slipped a little so that he could brush his fingers over your neck, almost soothing you.

“It didn’t work,” you shook your head, “As soon as he got out of the cabin, dad hunted him down and dragged him back into the cabin, he had lost way too much blood to make a run for it. Spencer, that’s a memory, not just a nightmare.”

“There was another person with you? At the graveyard?”

“He took the victim to the graveyard later on, but yes. There was someone, I just…I can’t remember who,” you heaved a shaky breath, “You need to tell the team-“

“We’re already checking the graveyards within the driving distance to the cabin, I told them today.”

You blinked a couple of times, “Did you?”

“Yeah,” he said and his eyes searched your face, “You’re shaking.”

You tried to smile and wrapped your fingers around his wrist, running your thumb over his warm skin, “It’s cold out there.”

You were lying, he knew you were lying and you knew that he knew, but neither of you commented on that. He hesitated for a moment before he pulled you closer to him, letting you bury your face into his chest as he held you tight and you inhaled his scent, closing your eyes.

He was right earlier. This was an addiction.

“Were you sleeping?” you muttered into his chest before you pulled back to look up at him. He scoffed and shook his head.

“No,” he said, “I was working on the case.”

“You really need to sleep.”

“It’s ironic to hear that from you,” he pointed out and that made a smile warm your face.

“Ah but I did sleep,” you said, “I just woke up because of the nightmares. It still counts as sleep.”

“I doubt that,” he said and you turned your head before you started walking around the room.

Spencer’s apartment was more or less what you imagined, to be honest. Contrary to yours, it was darker and obviously older. The wooden desk was covered in papers and books, there was a library by the corner of the room almost stacked to the brim, and overall it reminded you so much of him that just being in his apartment made you feel-

Safer. Better. Calmer.

“Lovely place,” you commented as you approached the library to drag your fingertips over the cracked and old spines of the books and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shift his weight.

“Yeah it’s not- it’s not like yours but I like it.”

“Not like mine?” you looked over your shoulder and he cleared his throat.

“Mm hm.”

“I like it better than mine,” you said and he frowned,

“Why?”

“It looks like someone is actually living here,” you motioned around and he tilted his head.

“Is that a good thing?”

“It is,” you said, “I mean I can see….you in here. I can’t see any part of me in my apartment.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “My mom has this person who designs her houses, she designed my apartment too. It’s pretty but it’s just not me I guess. It’s kind of sad when you think about it.”

He hummed, his eyes watching your every move and you pulled a book from the shelf, holding it up so that he could see the title.

“You don’t strike me as a Petrarch guy,” you tilted your head, “Are you?”

He raised his brows and stole a look at the book in your hand.

“I do not pray, since there is no purpose, that my heart should ever burn less fiercely, but only that she might share part of the fire.” he recited and your jaw dropped before you pouted.

“I hate bluffing with you,” you commented, making him chuckle and you stifled a yawn while turning the book in your hands.

“You can’t work for the whole night if you have a guest.” you gestured at the wooden table and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I won’t if my guest promises she’ll try to sleep.”

“I don’t like this deal.”

“That’s the deal you’re getting,” he said and you clicked your tongue, then walked to the center of the room and sat down on the floor before you lied down.

“I have a bed, you know.”

“I don’t want to get comfortable and fall asleep yet. I want to enjoy this more.”

“Enjoy what? Lying on the floor?”

You shook your head and kept your gaze on the ceiling, the dim light of the apartment and lights from the outside creating shadows there.

“I don’t have that…mind numbing fear right now,” you managed to say “I want to make it last. It’ll come back when I wake up tomorrow, trust me.”

He looked like he wanted to argue with you, then heaved a sigh and sat down on the floor as well, leaning his back to the leather armchair. You tossed him the book and he caught it mid-air, shooting you a quizzical look.

“Read me your favorite,” you said and he smiled slightly.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’ll help me get out of my head, and it might help you….ignore the fact that your night club date was terrible, apparently.”

He raised his brows, “Luke told you?”

You tried to stop your smirk, but it was impossible,

“Yeah he did,” you said and bit inside your cheek for a moment, “Thank you though.”

“For what?”

“For believing in me.”

His gaze on you was gentle, “I wish you would believe in yourself too,” he told you, “You’re not what he tried to turn you into.”

You dragged the tip of your tongue over your lip.

“Spencer?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think we should move on?”

He took a deep breath, his brows furrowed in thought.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “We probably should. But do I think we can move on? I don’t think so.”

You nodded slowly, that burning in your eyes getting even worse as he turned the pages until he found what he was looking for, then cleared his throat and started reading.

“I have offered you my heart a thousand times

O my sweet warrior, only to make peace

with your lovely eyes: but it does not please you

with your noble mind, to stoop so low.”

You smiled to yourself, painfully aware of why he picked that one, then closed your eyes, his voice washing over you.

“And if some other lady has hope of it,

she lives in powerless, deceiving hope:

and it can never be what it was to me,

since I too disdain what does not please you.”

Chapter 22

[thekillingjoke-haha]

YOU ARE WERE MINE

Summary: Sacrifices are often made for the ones we love....even if it might hurt.

Parings: Sam Winchester x Male!Reader, Hinted at Male!reader x John Winchester, and Sam Winchester x Unmentioned girls

Warning?: Bi Sam ,Dean still flirting with reader, No jess death for M/n, Reader is a hunter...and never told Sam, Yellow-eyes, mention(hint at) smut

Sam looked up at M/n with a smile he wore a sexy fireman outfit for the bar outing the yellow shirt looked like it was going to rip if the surprisingly taller male flexed a little too much the red suspenders held up loss fitting brown pants and a axe that leaned on the door frame. "Come on Babe dress up a little." He said tightening the suspenders straps.

"You know I don't like Halloween." Sam sighed as his boyfriend came up to him kissing his cheek with a mischievous smirk. "Too bad guess I can't give you your treat." The h/c man growled nipping his ear as he walked out of their shared bedroom. With a fake pout he chased after him. "If I put on a Halloween shirt will it pass?" He said hopefully putting his arms over M/n shoulder causing him to put his hands on his hips. "Hmmm....If I get to pick the shirt." Sam chuckled and nodded. He'll soon regret that.

Luis was loosing his shit laughing at the shit while M/n smiled proudly at what his boyfriend was wearing it was a plain dark gray t-shirt with the words 'Just the tip. I Promise.' And a knife. "This has to be your best work, N/n." Stephan, M/n best friend, said dressed as a cop high fives the awaiting hand.

M/n gave Sammy a small grin and winked causing him to blush slightly. It was time to celebrate with friends Sam's accomplishment he can wait later to celebrate with Sam his own way.

(Time skip past smexy times~might do it later)

M/n woke up in a empty bed to the sound of a fight he quickly got up in only his boxers to see what was wrong. He knew it was human since he had symbols all under wall paper and floor boards. Turning on the lights he sees Sam and a shorter man next to him "Sammy?" He said causing both of them to look over maybe he should have put on pants eyes raked down his form. "Woah. Hi I'm Dean Rapunzel's older brother. You must be his roommate..." The green eyed man bit his lip looking down south of the s/c man before him. "...I just love Scooby-Doo.~" Dean said keeping his gaze on the mystery machine briefs M/n was wearing. Sam quickly got between both of them pushing his brother back. "Dean this N/n my boyfriend" A confused look crossed his face. "Where's Jess you girlfriend?" He asked. "She was my roommate graduated a year ago and M/n moved in."

Dean looked back at M/n the flirtatious smirk back on his face. "You're way out of my brothers league." Sam put a around his boyfriends waist pulling him close. "Why are you here Dean?" There was a pause of silence. "Dad hasn't been home in a few days." The blonde said before it was shot down. "Let me rephrase. Dad's on a hunting trip and hasn't been home in a few days." With that Sam tensed up and looked over to M/n. "I'll be right back." His tone rushed as he peeked him in the cheek and left their shared apartment brother in tow.

Once the sound of their foot steps were heard going down the stairs M/n sighed his hand running through his bed head. "Fucking Winchester’s." He mumbled before going back up stairs going to his old room. M/n went to the closet moving boxes out of the way till he got to the duffel bag he was looking for. A burner phone weighed heavy in his hand as he wandered back to bed. "If he goes I go." He mumbled to himself looking at the mirror on the nightstand. M/n has been off and on with hunting ever since he started dating Sam and he knew who he was the moment his last name left his lips, but he only put on a smile and gave him his first and middle name since L/n were famous in the community.

Sam came back to the apartment and started to pack a bag. "Sam what's going on?" M/n said innocently as he watched more of his boyfriends clothes fill the bag. "Just going to help look for Dad. Probably just went out with a old friend and didn't bother to pick up." Sam zipped up the bag as he threw it over his shoulder. "You know what's Monday right?! You can't just not show up it's your dream on the line, Babe!" M/n stepped forward slowing down the rushed pace. "I know...you're right and I'll be back on Monday." We walked out of the building. "Promise to call me when you get there." The h/c man said hugging the long haired brunette close. "I promise." With a final kiss goodbye M/n waved him off before going inside. Time to jump back into the L/n family business. Pulling out the burner it rung as the first number was dialed. "I don't give a damn of you are the IRS or girl scouts selling fucking cookies it's one am you idjit!" The familiar voice rung out. "Good talking to you to Uncle Bobby." M/n chuckled and the older man's breath caught in his throat. "Well I'll be damned do my ears deceive me or is that little F/n all grown up?"

"Glad you didn't trash this number."

"What are you calling for boy its still 1am?" Bobby asked.

" I need to pick up my truck. I'm going hunting."

~~~~Time Skip~~~~

Sam sat in the motel room trying to call M/n, but he didn't pick up. If only he knew that right at that moment he was beheading a vampire while laughing like a sadistic prick. After cleaning the blood off and burning the barn that held the nest M/n tried calling back when it picked up he heard Sam's distressed voice. "M/n now is not a good time. I'm so cold hold me" A voice spoke over Sam's. "Who the hell was that?!" I heard a loud hissing noise. "Sam!" That's when a shotgun went off, glass shattered, and the lime went dead. M/n stood up and paced un his room it would be late before he got home he'll have to hall ass to get there before Sam.

Going out to the truck he opened the bed lifting the metal cover and false bottom loading the weapons. He had no time to drop it back off. The road was silent till a voice interrupted it. "Hello, handsome. What's the rush?" Almost swerving into a ditch M/n looked over and saw a man with graying blonde hair. Reaching for a weapon the man's eyes flashed yellow gazing at him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." He snapped causing the h/c make to look straight and push hard into his seat. "You're the little Winchester’s boy toy. Well in two hours he'll be home and dead by the time you arrive." M/n's breath caught in his throat. "Liar. I'm not stupid every hunter has heard what happened to Mary it doesn't take a genius to see they weren't the only one's. You need him alive and well, so why are you hear?" He growled low in his throat as the demon chuckled. "Got me there. You see Sammy boy needs to get back in the life and you being, I don't know, alive is getting in the way." The pressure grew stronger on the restrained man's chest till he almost could feel his lungs squeeze. "But I'm a business man. You work for me you live and maybe see Sam again or die in a blaze and the last thing he sees is your burning corpse. Can't be a protective boyfriend if your dead."

"What will happen to me if I agree?" That's when a sick smile pulled on his lips. "You become a demon. No a demon doesn't possess you! You yourself become one you memories and personality intact. So deal?" He held his hand out to the s/c man as he sighed taking his eyes from the road. "Deal." The demons yellows eyes shined bright as he yanked the young man forward pressing their lips together sealing it. "You are mine." He growled possessively as M/n pulled out his phone and dialed Sam's number. It went to voice mail. "Hey Rapunzel. I want you to know...I love you. Hold on to that, never let that go. You mean the world to me...so once you figure out how to open you voice mail this is waiting for you."

Sam woke up from his nightmare of his burning apartment building. It been almost three years since then and he never gotten over it. It took a year to get to his messages and what M/ n left behind gave him more questions then answers. He couldn't even get into the apartment before the flames erupted. Sam had doubts about M/n in the fire, but after the police report was released only one casualty of M/n Middle/n. Dean tried to tell my it would at some point get better, but the guilt still felt heavy in his chest. Nightmares of M/n in the fire not in pain, but seeming to absorb the flames made him question what really happened. The brothers had a lead on yellow eyes that their dad led them to. It all seemed to convenient that after the fight he knew to much about the demon that pledged his nightmares. The warehouse was falling apart it was in shambles as Dean parked baby next to it. "Are you sure this is the place?" Sam asked his brother. "Dad said this was it. Load up." Dean got out the car popping the trunk. This didn't feel right.

Tied up, beaten, and tortured. The Winchesters look up at their own fathers face with those horrid yellow eyes. "You boys never questioned a thing didn't even hesitate to come inside!" He chuckled darkly as the surrounding demons grinned. "This would have been the part where I laugh at you kill you dragging your sorry souls to hell to be my toys for the next millennium, but I have something better!" Signature Winchester grin lifted his lips as he called out seeming to no one. "Oh, honey bear! Come say hi." The sound of a strong gust of wind came from behind them as the clack of well made dress shoes hit the shifty floor boards. A man wearing black dress pants, shoes, and a open f/c(not black) silk button up. His back was to the brothers as John lifted his head up to kiss the man's cheek. Turning around white eyes looked at them, but that face was unmistakably M/n's a scar on his brow but it was him. Sam was chocked up M/n was in front of him looking well and oh God he's with enemy that took their dad's body as a meat suit.

"Do you like him, Sammy? Hells best torturer!" John said running his hands over M/n as the man kept his gaze locked on the tallest Winchester analyzing him as he seethed with anger at the demon touched his boyfriend. "Oh the things he's done would make Lucifer blush." Yellow-eyes trailed his hand down the scarred chest biting his lip making Sam struggle more. Snapping his fingers the other demons took Dean, but Sam was left there. "You're not useful to me dead Sammy boi." The demon circled him. "What's the best kind of torture, love?" M/n seemed to move for the first time getting right in front of Sam dropping to his knees being face to face with him. Cupping the beaten cheek of the hunter in his s/c hand his white clouded orbs turned the lively e/c giving a sympathetic look before it switched off. "Physiological." Sam didn't notice the room shifted into their old apartment tears pooled in those e/c eyes. "Where were Sammy?" A hiccup in between silent cries ended the sentence as a scene played out of M/n on the phone trying to talk to Sam before it cut off. "I needed you!" A scene of M/n chained to a wall seeing figures of his past hurt him till he gave in. "You were mine. And you threw it all away, threw me away like garbage!" The images went to Sam being with girls, but he could see familiar h/c hair in the background.

Tears rolled down Sam's face as white eyes filled his vision the eyes he loved fading away. What felt like hours happened in only a few seconds and within those seconds Sam was broken. He buried his face into the palm still cupping his cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!' Sam would do anything for his M/n back even if it meant killing the monster his father has become. A gentle kiss stopped the trail of tears. "You are mine."

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Quote= I love you. Hold on to that, never let that go. -The Vampire Diaries

Tagged: @spnquotebingo

First male reader it was fun.

[sparrow-likes-the-puppers]

Firefly and Tennant have had a litter of 7!

We got off to a rocky start with Tennant deciding to attack a bear, surviving with only 16% health (!) and a major leg injury.

Hunting on your own on challenging is not easy, and we didn't eat for like 3 days straight. But we're on top of things again now! Or, well, much as you can be with 7 pups, anyway.

There's Sly, Beetle, Kipper, Coyote, Skip, Cottontail, and Paprika! And I HATE THEM!

No, okay, that's a bit harsh, let me rephrase: I hate Paprika.

I think she's genuinely a completely bold pup, because the SECOND the affinity drops too low, without fail, she's GONE. She's out of there. She hates us.

Also like half the children have nearly died from sickness but they're fine we're fine everything's fine

[reikeip]

Crossroad ♱ Prologue

Please turn on chat boxes.

Location: Repayment Festival

Season: Spring, the following year

Rei: ……

Kuro: Haha. You’re wearin’ a pretty scary face there, Sakuma.

Guess it’s ‘cause you’re gettin’ down to business this time around, huh?

Rei: How vexing to hear Kiryuu-kun say that I have a scary face… But that is incorrect—I simply have no clue when Doggie intends to barge in, so I’m standing at the ready.

We’ve proclaimed ourselves to be DEADMANZ and caused havoc at the Repayment Festival—We have surely gotten under Doggie's skin.

I imagine that right now, he’s seething with rage as he hunts us down.

Like a lost puppy… no, I would liken him to a faithful dog who seeks vengeance after being hurt by his master.

As a matter of fact, I would be in quite the bind if he neglected to pummel me the second he spotted me. Should he refrain, those same events shall transpire.

Pardon, allow me to rephrase that. We cannot afford to repeat the past, now that the time has come for us to graduate.

Everyone wishes to tie up their loose ends before they go, correct?

To be a sufficiently formidable foe, one must bear an imposing presence.

Kuro: So you’re callin’ it a real fight, eh? Not too shabby.

We’ve made it this far with Kanzaki on good terms n’ all, but we probably shoulda gone at each other seriously at least once.

Rei: Kukuku. If you raise your child to be too well-behaved, you will find it more difficult for you to let go of them than it is for them to let go of you. And yet, it is a necessary part of life.

So that we will carry no regrets in our hearts—we must become a pack of man-eating demons.

Kuro: I dunno, ain’tcha just causin’ trouble for them brats? Though I guess it’s better to give ‘em the memory of a big fight instead of walkin’ away without a word.

Keito: ………

Kuro: Hm? Danna, you’ve been quiet for a while now. What’s the matter with ya? Tryin’ to act like some serious model student after all this time?

You're the one who decided we'd end this all with a flashy riot or whatever. I'm just here to watch it all go down. We can’t really make a move ‘til you do.

Keito: ...I’m aware. I’m deep in thought right now, so be quiet, Kiryuu.

Kuro: Haha. Do I ever shut up when ya tell me to?

Dunno whyyy you’re bein' a buzzkill, but my guess is you’re just stressin’ too much.

Ain’tcha the one who kept saying over n’ over that Kanzaki’s the kinda guy that can do this if he gave it his all?

‘Sides, the Repayment Festival’s supposed to be a casual event for us third-years. You should just treat it like a festival n’ enjoy yourself. Ain’t that right Sakuma?

Rei: Mhm. You're quite reliable, Kiryuu-kun; I can see why Hasumi-kun chose to keep you at his side. Your outsides are fairly unrefined, yet you are actually quite considerate underneath.

It sure was worth it to reach through the flames to retrieve him, was it not… Hasumi-kun ♪

Rei: But you shouldn't rely upon him; it makes you seem like a spoiled child. Your hands created DEADMANZ, so it shall be yours that carry it to the very end... not his.

Kuro: Hey, not that it matters or anything but like, why DEADMANZ?

Keito: It’s currently inactive, which means it was easy to mobilize right away.

DEADMANZ currently only exists on paper, and Sakuma and I were once part of it.

It's perfect for causing a stir at the Repayment Festival, picking fights with the kids as a potential threat… no, as their enemy. That's why, Kiryuu.

We didn’t have the luxury of creating a new unit, and if we did go through the procedures, it’s likely Eichi and our underclassmen would have caught on.

Everything had to remain behind closed doors until now for us to proceed with our plan.

Kuro: That’s not what I meant, I’m talkin’ about the name.

The hell do you mean by "DEADMANZ"…?

I ain’t a great student so I don’t know for sure, but when you make DEADMAN plural shouldn’t ya make it DEADMEN?

Y’know, kinda like X-MEN.

Rei: Do you enjoy comics, Kiryuu-kun? Hasumi-kun does tend to lend out manga and the like to anyone who will give him the time of day, so I understand.

Why do otaku search for like-minded individuals? Could it be that they’re trying to increase their amount of devotees?

Keito: …Don’t think too much about the name. It has a sentimental story, so it’s embarrassing to reminisce on just before graduation.

Enough to make me consider going through the process to change it now.

More importantly, Hakaze just got in touch with mee. It seems he’s located Kanzaki.

We must head over there immediately, Kiryuu. ...Can you handle matters here, Sakuma-san? [1]

Rei: Of course. However, it is hardly a unit if only one person stands upon the stage, so could you call Kaoru-kun back here?

I wonder where he is and what he’s up to right about now. Even in the end, he is impossible to predict.

Kukuku. To think that such a frivolous and flippant young man would encroach so deeply upon my life…

I’d have never expected such a thing in the past. This is why life is so much fun.

Even I am beginning to feel life pulse through my veins once more. As a matter of fact, the name DEADMANZ is terribly unbefitting of me ♪

all | next →

jp proofing: ciel and Mel eng proofing: ciel

Keito refers to Rei as Sakuma-san throughout second year (and in every story written before crossroad was released, using “Sakuma” in most stories written afterwards, likely due to a retcon of sorts), so this being in quotes is showing it is currently odd for keito to use. The honorific “-san” is respectful, used in formal settings between acquaintances.

[worldwidebt7]

Hell[L]ing || 05

§ — Pairing: Chimera!Taehyung x Empath!Reader (with mentions of Reader x Other Members)

§ — Genre: SciFi AU, fluff, angst, smut, horror

§ — Wordcount: 2,974

§ — Rating: M § — Warnings: None. Just an awkward AF encounter.

§ — A/N: Gone for so long, but not forgotten! I love this story, and I don't plan on letting it die any time soon~ I need a manager-- I've got way too many projects! Anyone want the job? LOL

Summary: You moved out into the wilderness to live a calm, peaceful life. Your abilities made it impossible to live in crowded places, so even if you wanted to you couldn’t return. But when something happens outside the realm of even your normalcy, you start to think that maybe having everyone else’s emotions bearing down on you isn’t such a bad alternative to being trapped with your own.

You were definitely beginning to question your decision-making skills, or lack thereof. Any sane person would never let a man they met once into their isolated house on a rainy day— it was an exact recipe that stereotypical horror films follow. And you were to be the soon-hunted lead female. Whether or not you get killed milliseconds before the credits started rolling depended on how you treated the situation henceforth.

Standing in your bathroom, you contemplated your options as your fingers ran over the plush fabric of the grey towel you intended to hand to the soaking wet gentleman currently standing in your kitchen. First, you could continue on the path you were currently set on: heading back down the stairs to help the supposedly sick boy dry off and offer him a warm drink. This would most certainly end poorly if your expertise of the genre was anything to go by. Assist the helpless stranger, let his quirky personality charm you, then die. Not preferable.

You could, adversely, call the police or one of your friends to come save you and distract your company until they arrived. This would be the smarter move, though you have your doubts that the situation warrants such a reaction. Besides what your extrasensory abilities allowed you to perceive, your neighbor has done nothing to make you think he holds any ill-will against you. Having him forcibly removed from your home would only certainly sour his opinion of you.

Your last option, from what you could organize from your frayed thoughts, was to expedite option one, in which you dried him off, warmed him up, and sent him on his way before any amount of intimate time passed. You figured that this was the best option, even if it weren’t particularly the safest. You had no reason to suspect the boy of any violence or threat, but he made you inherently uncomfortable either way.

His emotions began to blip at a faster pace— nervousness, worry— were the rate of his emotional markers linked to his heart beat? That was something new. Well, everything dealing with this boy’s emotions was new to you. Taking a deep breath, you turn and leave the bathroom. You suppose your prolonged absence has made your guest begin to panic, and you really didn’t want to have his sporadic emotions to get more intense; you were already feeling the beginnings of a headache.

Scurrying down your wooden stairs, you felt his interest perk at the sound of your footsteps. Anticipation— but gentle anticipation. Warm, welcoming; you almost wanted to hurry to put yourself back in his line of vision, and as you stepped back into the kitchen, you felt the wave of relief that washed over him. His accelerated heartbeat kept the bursts of emotions abrupt, but they were soothed, a welcomed change from the abrasive concern.

His eyes were locked onto your form, taking in every miniscule movement you made. You made sure to avoid his gaze and cleared your throat as you stepped in front of him.

“Here,” You held out the towel for him to take. “You should probably dry yourself off…” He eyed the soft fabric for a moment, a shy gratefulness melding with slight apprehension. You sent him a warm smile when a few moments had passed and nudged the towel towards him a bit. With that, he tentatively reached forward and gently took the cloth from you. You retreated your hand swiftly and as he brought the towel to his chest you sidestepped towards the counter. “I’ll make something warm for you to drink, yeah?”

As you busied yourself, you didn’t see him lift the towel and softly burry his face in it, drying himself. You did, however feel the warm glow of comfort sprout in the air like quickly blooming flowers. With your back turned to him, you didn’t bother hiding the pleased look on your face. Finally— you thought— an emotion from him that didn’t barrage your senses.

With water heating up in your kettle and the packet of cocoa already retrieved from the pantry, you no longer had anything to distract yourself with. In an attempt to make this spontaneous visit less awkward and less unnerving, you turned to make light conversation. To begin, what on earth the sickly boy was doing wandering about in the rain.

“So…” you started, catching his attention immediately, his nerves returning. “Your name is Taehyung, right?” you received a delayed nod. “I’m Y/N. Ah, though you already knew that, right? From last time?” Another nod. Talkative, this one. You supposed you should get straight to your most burning question at the moment. “I gotta ask… I did extend the invitation, but… is there something I can do for you?” He visibly stiffened and the blips of his anxiety sped up with what, you were sure of now, was his increased heart rate. Oh, the headache. Perhaps you should rephrase. “W-what I mean is, since your health is poor, why’d you come over when it was raining of all days?” This seemed to calm him, as the frequency of his beats trickled off.

He didn’t answer you for a long while, opting to look down at the floor in contemplation. You did your best not to stare— you didn’t want to spike his unease once more— but you were finding it difficult to do so, seeing as the wet boy in your kitchen, now that he was up close and personal, was too beautiful to bear. Your previous appraisal of his other-worldly appearance was far too lenient; how could anyone like him possibly exist at all? And his dark hair— curled more from its damp state and hanging further over his obsidian eyes— only seemed to add more depth to the perfection of the features it framed. How utterly unfair it was for someone to be so beautiful.

“I—” you just about jumped at his voice, breaking the silence, but not cutting through it. The melodic depth of it filled the room. “…bad day…” he was pensive with his words— giving you all you needed to know and no more. There was no deception to him, but he was clearly safeguarding information, keeping it locked away.

You gave a thoughtful hum, but you couldn’t hide the shock and confusion you felt. He came to you because he was having a bad day? Someone he didn’t know and only met once before? You couldn’t help but feel this was… odd, for lack of a better term. And he seemed to realize this as well, as his eyes never once met yours. His apprehension was understandable now, and his fear of being turned away— he really had no reason to be here.

Still, your heart warmed at the thought that he had come to you for comfort, as unexpected as it was. And, slowly, the majority of your concerns over the situation began to melt away. Yes, he was a strange boy, yes, there were things about him that were odd and seemed unnatural, but… there was nothing aggressive, or dangerous about his intentions. He seemed more like a child than anything else with how small his large frame looked; like he was trying to curl in on himself.

A sharp whistle pierced the gentle atmosphere and both you and Taehyung jumped nearly out of your skin. You recognized the sound as your kettle quickly after having your nerves fried, but your guest was immediately on the defensive, his fear refusing to subside as he took a pathetic few steps back from the offending object.

“Sorry!” you called out to him and you turned on your heel to remove the kettle from the stove. His confusion was evident, and mixed with the other strong emotions bombarding you, you were almost inclined to say that he’s never heard the shriek of a kettle. The noise subsided as you lifted the item off the heat, turning the burner off in the process. “Phew— that scared me!” At your laughter, his confusion turned into curiosity, and his fear ebbed away.

You emptied the chocolate powder into one of your mugs and promptly drowned it in the hot water from your kettle, the smell of hot chocolate immediately permeating through the air. You se the kettle back down on the stove before stirring the drink, your neighbor’s curiosity only heightening. You turned back to him and beckoned him forward, placing the mug of hot chocolate on the island in front of him in hopes he would sit. When he did nothing, a breathy chuckle escaped you.

“You can sit down if you’d like,” you offered, hoping he would oblige. You realize that this directly opposes your original plan to make this visit as quick as possible, but his uncertainty had found it’s way into your heart. You weren’t sure if it was because he was often ill, but he seemed so unsure of how to interact with other people, like he hasn’t had much social interaction before. It was endearing in a way, and even though there were still some things that concerned you about the readings you got from him, you felt inclined to spend time trying to unravel him.

Or you could simply be suffering from your own solitude.

Either way, you smiled when he slowly made his way over to the counter and seated himself on the stool that the mug sat directly in front of. He still had the towel you had offered him clutched to his chest and seemingly hadn’t dried much more than his face with it. Cautiously, he eyed the mug of steaming liquid.

“Do you not like hot chocolate?” you asked, suddenly aware that it’s possible for people to have different tastes. Or worse, because of his illness he couldn’t drink it at all? “Oh, I’m sorry! Can you even drink hot chocolate? I should have asked before. If there’s something else—”

“No! I—” you blinked, surprised. It was the first time he had spoken so suddenly or with so much conviction. He seemed shocked by his own voice, and immediately receded into himself, almost as if berating himself for his outburst. He chewed on his lower lip, “…I’ve never had it… hot chocolate…” you blinked again.

“Really?” He nodded, and his hand slid forward, reaching for the mug. When you saw his fingers wrap around it, you realized how large his hands were— yet another ridiculously beautiful feature as you couldn’t help but think about how elegant the lines of hands were curved around the dwarfed mug. If he noticed you staring, nothing in his demeanor showed any discomfort at the attention, but you were quick to correct yourself when you became aware of it yourself. “Are you sure you can have it…?” you didn’t want to accidentally poison your neighbor if he was allergic to chocolate. A shake of his head did little to reassure you.

“I’ll drink it,” he said with confidence. He raised the mug, his other hand joining the action as the ceramic was completely eclipsed. It took you a moment to realize that he may not be are of the heat.

“Oh, wait, that’s hot—!” you were too late, and you watched him take a rather large sip from the cup. You blanched, expecting him to burn himself, but he only lowered the mug back to the counter, both hands still firmly encasing it, seemingly unaffected. Huh. Well then, wasn’t that odd?

After a moment of deliberation, excitement burst through the air and Taehyung’s eyes lit up. He quickly took another sip of the drink and from the rush of emotions you knew he was absolutely thrilledby the taste of hot chocolate. You stifled a good-natured laugh, not wanting him to think you were making fun of him, and settled for an endeared smile as you leaned forward to rest against the island counter. Why were you so scared of this boy again?

“I’m going to guess that you like it?” you couldn’t help but tease him a little, and, thankfully, he didn’t seem to take offense; he was far too enraptured by the sweet beverage before him. He nodded happily.

“Thank you,” he said, cheer popping in the air around him, making you want to squeal at his child-like wonder at something so simple. Still, you had to wonder— how is it that he never had hot chocolate before? And if he hadn’t had something so elementary, what else had he not been privy to and why? You suppose you could chalk it up to him being ill often, and if such is the case, he must have been sick for much of his life. You wondered who had been in charge of his health all these years and why they refused him such small pleasures such as hot chocolate, making you again second-guess giving him the cocoa treat. But the pure bliss he exhibited bade you believe that just one cup wouldn’t hurt and that it was surly worth it.

He had been so wrought with nerved when he appeared at your back door that any positive change in his emotions was a welcome one. Perhaps he would leave having a better day than when he came. You could only hope.

“I’m glad you like it,” you said simply before moving on, trying to keep whatever stilted conversation you had going. “I’m surprised you came here if you were having a bad day… did you and Seokjin fight?”

At the mention of his roommate’s name, he stiffened, some of his anxiety returning. You must have hit the nail on the head, because as his fingers fidgeted around the mug he looked off to the side towards the floor. You felt bad immediately, not wanting to sour his mood again.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry,” you straightened a bit at your mistake, readying to correct yourself if given the opportunity. “If you want to talk about it, um…” What could you offer him, honestly? Why would he divulge the details of his roommate quarrel with you? He barely knew you. Still, he did come to you— as a source of comfort, as a distraction, or as escape, you’ll never know. You did know that you may be his only choice out here in the remote wilderness and so, to an extent, you felt a certain obligation to offer him support. After all, should something happen to you, he and Seokjin were the only ones in miles that could aid you, and you could only hope that they would do so without hesitation.

However, he shook his head, signaling that he didn’t wish to divulge the issue. More mystery then, it seems. You nodded and gave no further attempts to interrogate despite the burning questions that nagged at you, knowing full well about the need to keeps certain things to yourself.

“I…” he began, suddenly standing. Startled, you too took a step back from the counter as well. “I should go…” he placed your towel on the island next to the half-empty mug after a long moment, seemingly disappointed to part with it. Taehyung hesitated, but eventually took a large step away from where he had been seated and began to make his way to the back door.

His sudden, hurried departure had you reeling. You had wanted a brief, eventless encounter, so letting him leave now would probably be for the best. Yet, despite all your concerns, you were still opening your mouth.

“W-wait!” you called after him, stepping out from behind your countertop. He immediately halted in his tracks, shifting slightly so he could see you out of his peripherals. His uncertainty thrummed in the air like drums, making your otherwise silent home ridiculously loud. “The… the rain…” For the first time in the last ten minutes, you peered outside your window, expecting to see the previous torrential downpour. However, to your surprise, it had calmed to a drizzle at some point during your neighbor’s momentary visit. When had that happened?

Sensing that you didn’t have anything else to say to him, Taehyung continued his journey to your glass doors slowly. You watched him with a rock settling into your stomach— this didn’t feel right to you, and as he opened the door, you called out to him again.

“Taehyung,” this time, at the sound of his name leaving your mouth, his head spun around completely, eyes wide and panic vibrating from him. No, not panic; something akin to panic, but not quite so negative. Something warmer… ugh, trying to decipher his emotions was like learning a new language. So, instead of feeding into your present headache, you continued, immediately embarrassed by what you say. “Come back again sometime… we can have lunch.” You felt the heat in your face from your blush and then, unexpectedly, it was as if the very space around you was placed under a heat lamp and Taehyung’s not-panic set your nerves on fire. What the hell was going on?

You didn’t have time to dwell, because as soon as the shocked, anxious boy recovered, he nodded quickly and slipped out the door, taking his blips of emotions and quickly disappearing into the tree line separating your properties.

With his departure, you could finally breathe, and you found that a tightness that you hadn’t been aware of begun to unravel in your chest. Your migraine, which you were hoping would leave with your neighbor, proceeded to hammer away in your skull. As much as you wanted to dissect your more than odd exchange with the onyx-eyed boy, you couldn’t imagine thinking about much of anything in your present condition.

“Bath…” you groaned, massaging your temples and groggily treaded your way upstairs to soak away the pain in scalding, fragrant water.

Tags:

@sana-b​ @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​ @babbitybabo​ @softmxchi​ @halijahfan @chimchimsauce​ @coolavidreader​ @beesthoughtsblog​ @breadcaaat​ @lucian-kinnder​ @wolfgirl-m​  @sogrossstuff  @kpop-nolife​ @unoriginal-username15432​ @cvbachacbitch​ @rhayad​ @lladyow​ @jiminot7​ @parkminhee​ @ditttiii​ @sathom013​ @megazdl​ @sugabased

[kechiwrites]

Sweet Dreams

Enji Todoroki x Succubus!Reader

wc: 1.9k

no synopsis, this is really just self indulgent smut based off one of my fave doujins. 

warnings: light somnophilia, dirty talk, size kink, microscopic plot, smut it’s all just smut, 18+

authour’s note: thank u to my enabler @enjifuckersupreme​ for betaing and providing the most wonderful inspiration here (its just barely sfw)

The midsummer night is cool and quiet as you hover from building to building, spiked wings flapping halfheartedly, just enough to keep you a foot or two off the ground. You could feel your energy slowly depleting while you flit window to window, looking for a suitable meal. Just when you’re about to call it a night, opting instead to sleep and preserve your energy for another hunt, you slide open the shoji screen of a traditional Japanese estate to see a shockingly modern bedroom. Lying on his back atop a western-style bed is a veritable giant of a human, wrapped in a thin comforter like a present just for you. You stop flying, taking a tentative step past the threshold and into the bedroom, sneaking towards the bed at the center.

You inch closer, sidling up alongside him to take in his face, even in sleep his mouth is slightly frowning, and you brush your fingers against a wide scar that takes up almost half his face. One arm lays idly at his side while the other curls to support his head. The position has caused his sleep shirt to rise, exposing a dark red happy trail disappearing into his boxers.

A wallet sits on the bedside table and you rifle through to find his identification, flicking out a few cards until you find the sleeping man’s face on a plastic ID card, face stern and stoic.“Okay...Enji Todoroki, you’re about to have the best night of your life.” You whisper, sliding his blanket to the floor to expose all of him to your leering gaze, before gently sitting astride his hips, careful not to rouse him from sleep. 

From your new position you’ve got full control, you sink your fingers into his hair indulgently, opting to bless him with a particularly lewd dream to aid your undertaking. You scratch at his scalp, sliding your fingertips until they’re trapped between the nape of his neck and his hand. The light massage elicits a whimper from the man and you almost squeal with delight.

How cute!

You can tell he’s on the precipice of waking, so you slide your fingers from his hair down to his throat, then over the planes of his shirt covered chest, skating over his nipples. You linger there for a moment, ghosting your hand over them until they stand to attention. He shifts under you and for the smallest moment, you worry he’ll wake, but he huffs quietly and his breathing remains stable. Impishly, you press a wet kiss to the hollow of his throat, kitten licks tickling the underside of his jaw.

“Good girl.” he rumbles sleepily beneath you. Your body is set aflame by his gentle acceptance, and you bear down upon him, fervour renewed, placing kisses boldly upon his mouth now, leading with the teasing flick of your tongue when his lips part for you.

Content to tease, you fold your arms beneath your chest, pressed fully against the slumbering giant. The deeper your kisses, the harder he becomes, his length growing steadily under the curve of your behind.

You pull back, already feeling more energetic than when you arrived, only to find a pair of hard teal eyes glaring down at you. Hurriedly, you scramble back off the bed before he can grab you, thankful that even in your starved state your reflexes still beat a human’s.

“You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve to intrude in my home little girl.” The bass of his voice reverberates in your spine and honestly, his harsh tone would’ve been intimidating, if not for the frankly, impressive erection tenting his underwear.

Nevertheless, you balk at his accusation, smacking a hand against your scantily clad chest, “I am not an intruder!” After a moment of dubious silence between you, you rephrase, “I’m not just some home invader.” You leer at his almost prone form, plotting your careful exploration of his body while you speak. “I’m a succubus. Surely you've heard tales of us. I’m here to offer a service. You should be grateful I even woke you up. Now you’ll get the immeasurable pleasure of experiencing the real thing.” He raises an eyebrow at you, “Is this what young people are doing these days?” Annoyed at the assumption you give him a full 360, leather bikini and all. “The wings, horns, and tail aren’t enough proof for you? I am the genuine article!”  

To reiterate his luck, you manifest a beaming electric sign above your head, cheekily flashing the word, “Rejoice!”

“So you just expect me to lie back while you fuck me to death.” His brow furrows and he crosses herculean arms across his chest. The action causes his muscles to bulge and you almost salivate at the idea of what’s under the rest of his clothes.

“It’s nothing so drastic, my love.” you coo as you remount the bed, stopping once you’re fully atop it, swinging your legs towards him until they’re tangled with his own. You lean back on your forearms, face smug. “Think of it like...an exchange!” You drag your foot up and down the length of his calf, eyes swinging up to his reddening face when you feel the muscles tense. “You get to fuck me and I get my fill!” Humans usually weren’t so stubborn, most happy to pass it off as a dream and let you have your way.

You wiggle your shoulders with glee when he spreads his tree-trunk legs to make room for you. Suggestively, you raise your legs, heels pointing to the sky, to give him a view of your barely hidden pussy behind shiny leather panties. Slowly, you slide the underwear from your hips, baring yourself to his hooded gaze. Enji cements his hand on your ankle once you’ve lowered your legs again and tugs indelicately, bringing you closer in bursts.

“Alright!” You huff. “Geez, Mr. Handsy, I get the picture.”

Without further fanfare you mount your mark, holding him just below the heat of your already weeping cunt, lowering minutely to tease to the hood of your clit with the fat mushroom tip of his dick. You can feel him shiver beneath you, and the power of another mortal underneath your control makes your head swell with pride. You let him slide into you achingly slow, the whisper-quiet pop of his dick pushing past your entrance is music to your ears. Even with iron underneath, his skin is soft as velvet and your content to grope at his chest over and over while you lower and rise, only taking the first third of his length into you. When you stop for the fourth time, he groans, chest heaving in exertion. Your proximity is enough to rile any human up but you’d kissed him for quite a long time, really it was a feat he hadn’t come already. Snaking his arm up between your breasts and clasping around your throat, not quite choking you, but an obvious attempt at control.

He plants his feet and fucks up into you, digits digging into the softness of your sides when he’s finally in to the hilt. You watch his face contort into a grimace while you clench down around him, giggling as he tries to stop himself from coming too early.

“What’s the matter, baby? Does my pussy feel good?”

You push down his shoulders using all your supernatural strength to keep him submissive under you before raising and slamming your hips back down, swiveling your hips to get his cock hitting you just right. The bed creaks beneath you and for a moment you wonder just how sturdy it is, you’re no stranger to breaking beds but you have no doubt the man writhing below you wouldn’t appreciate it.

“This how you wanna come? With me calling all the shots? I was so sure a big strong man like you was gonna be more of a challenge!” You taunt him, landing particularly rough on the downswing of your hips. “You don’t seem like the type to just lay down and be fucked. Maybe I should’ve had you spread open for me instead.”

The image of the man, on all fours and begging while you fuck him open is frighteningly tempting but before you can ponder it further, Enji pushes you off him, keeping his arm wrapped around your middle to prevent you from falling to the floor.

His breathing is laboured despite being on his back, but he pushes through, undoing the string fastening your top and letting it fall away.

“You talk too much.” He sinks his teeth into your exposed shoulder as a warning. “I hope you have no intentions of walking away from this,” Enji flips you over without warning, your back bouncing against the plushness of his mattress.

You whine loudly, cunt contracting around nothing in need, but you quickly cut yourself short with a keening whine as Enji hooks an arm under each of your legs, pushing forward until your knees meet your chest. Soon after, his form looms above you, rutting against your pussy until he catches, fucking back inside you.

“Because I have every intention of giving you your fill.”

Each thrust finds purchase just a touch deeper with his new angle, and he eventually manages to sink his entire length within you. Your scratch at his arms as your bobbing feet brush his ears. Even with a body made for fucking the stretch is intense, he fills you so thoroughly it felt as though the tip of his cock was brushing your heart.

The human grabs at the curve of your horns, using them as leverage to burrow himself deeper. The sensation short circuits your brain and sends an accompanying shock to your pussy. Mewling, you try to arch your back towards him but the position he’s folded you into keeps you static, making you malleable clay under his brutish hands. He tugs forward again, pulling you in for a kiss, his mouth curving to yours sweetly even as he pistons into you without mercy. Slowly, you coax him into something filthier, sucking on his tongue and tugging his bottom lip between your fanged teeth.

When you break apart you chide him further, watching sweat bead on his forehead. “Getting tired, old man?”

“Will you shut up?” He snaps through his teeth, fucking you harder into the mattress.

“Then fucking cream me.” You bite back, skin tingling with your impending climax.

On the next thrust, he hits particularly deep and a frankly hilarious noise is punched from you, something between a yelp and a groan as you come on his cock. Your eyes roll beneath your lids and you think you can hear Enji laugh above you. When you force yourself to refocus, you glare at him, eyes trained on his mouth as he chuckles, “What an expression. I thought you-” he cuts himself off with a grunt, “I thought you were a professional?”

With your power slowly returning and the sting of his mockery seeping into your skin, you push him to orgasm. It’s more than obvious to you that Enji’s close, so you tilt your hips as best you can and bear down on his thudding cock, tightening and squeezing on his every downstroke. His eyes widen at your ministrations and your suspicions are confirmed when a groan slips from his lips and shot after shot of his seed is suddenly filling you to bursting.

You stay like that for a while, his hips twitching now and again, while you completely regain your energy, your skin taking on a bright and glowing appearance. Carefully, you extricate yourself from him and allow the brute to fall forward onto his face, already snoring away. Silently, you redress, taking care to cover Enji with his blanket once more, before sliding the shoji screen closed behind you.

“Sweet dreams, old man.”

[writersrealmbts]

Treasured Hoard: Part 2

Part 1

Description: Dragon Hoseok! You're spelunking when you come across a dragon, and suddenly your life is a lot more complicated as he adds you to his hoard.

Warnings: Not really

Posted: 01/07/2020

Tags: Dragon!Hoseok, Shapeshifter!Hosoek, Hoseok X Reader

Fluff?: 2,465 words

A/N: I know y’all still want a second part to Different Skins, we’re honestly lucky I’m getting any writing done so. Have this instead!

As if being trapped in a dragon’s den against your will wasn’t bad enough, this one also didn’t seem to know what humans needed to survive, or understand why you were upset that he wouldn’t at least get you your own belongings from the house you were renting.

“You don’t need those things anymore!” Hoseok frowned, huffing out another plume of smoke.

You choked before you could respond. You’d been arguing with him for over an hour, already. If you didn’t die from lung cancer, it would be a miracle. But you needed to make some sort of hyper-logical point or he would never listen to you.

“I can get you anything you need, and more. You’re part of my hoard now, after all.”

“Just…” You sighed, then let your gaze snap up as you thought of the appropriate words. “It’s a human’s own special sort of hoard. Yes, we can part with it, but those things hold importance to us! I have family photos and relics that I can’t bear the thought of losing, and clothes that would work much better for in here than what you’ve been getting me because they’ll actually fit me!”

He looked thoughtful now. “I suppose that does make sense. My mother usually had things that she guarded possessively, I suppose I always thought it came from when she would shift into a dragon.Will…will it make you happy—to have your hoard?”

“Yes,” You answered, shrugging a little. Not that you minded wearing clothes that were too big, but it got a little chilly at night, and you didn’t even have your pictures or anything that had sentiment to you.

He straightened and smiled. “Alright, I will retrieve your hoard, but you must stay here. I’ll not risk my treasure.”

You groaned. “Fine. Here’s the key to the house.”

He took it, examining it carefully, then nodded. He shifted as he walked away and some wind buffered your face as he took off.

You sighed and went back to the kitchen-like area, making a face at the food he’d brought you. Sure, you’d been there a few days now, so you were partially used to him bringing you very fresh meat, but you couldn’t help but wonder what that meat actually was before he’d skillfully butchered it and brought it to you.

But he’d also ‘collected’ a wood-burning stove for you to use after he noticed you struggling to cook over a tiny campfire you’d managed to make the day before, and the face you made when he cooked your meat to a char the first day. He’d been waiting outside the cave designated as yours (which he’d filled with lush cushions and blankets—something he appeared to have an abundance of) that morning, pulling you excitedly to where he kept his food to show you the stove. He’d even gotten a ton of firewood for you and piled it nearby, and made sure the chimney part of the stove was high enough to catch the smoke and be pulled out with the rest—a phenomenon you still couldn’t quite explain.

You had found a knife sometime during your first day, and you used it to cut the meat into smaller pieces. As you cooked (with one pan that you’d found laying in a corner collecting dust), you could hear him coming and going, and you barely held yourself back from going to make sure he got everything. Wondering if he’d clean out the house or leave things behind. You’d just gotten groceries…

“Okay, I have retrieved your hoard,” He said, sounding very proud of himself.

You glanced back and smiled, washing your hands and following him out.

Your eyes widened. “Oh…you brought the fridge?”

“Yes, and I realized it used that electricity so I also asked my mother for a power source and she has given it to me. Where should I put this…fridge?”

“Uh, same room as the stove. Do you…know what a refrigerator is?”

He shook his head, blinking at you.

“It keep food cold. This one also has a freezer, which—”

“Freezes things?” He guessed, looking pleased.

You nodded. “Yeah. Oh, good, you didn’t bring the cabinets.”

“Cabinets?”

“Wooden boxes attached to walls.”

“No, they were much attached to the den, so I removed their contents, but left the wood. You have a strange way of organizing your hoard, and your den did not seem very secure. I did not realize that humans used magic so much.”

You tilted your head, a little confused. “We…don’t…?”

“But your water goes up pipes?”

“Oh, just because we found a way to use pressure to push the water. But I suppose it would seem like magic. Um, thank you, for retrieving my, um, hoard.” You patted his arm, then noticed the pile of pots, pans, and food. You went over to it, grabbing some seasonings and oil, heading back to the kitchen to cook properly for the first time in a few days.

“You are pleased?” He asked, trailing after you.

“Uh, yeah. Pleased.” You frowned as you measured seasoning by sight, trying to decide if it was too much or too little. You’d organize your kitchen stuff later. Maybe see if he had a chest or something you could use. Or use one of the bookshelves.

“May I keep this?”

You looked back and saw him holding a photo album. “Um…why?”

“It has many likenesses of you, and you smile in them. You must have been more than pleased,” He said, opening it and looking down at the photos.

You stood there, blinking as you gazed at him, remembering his question about whether having your hoard would make you happy. Asking you if you were pleased.

Adorable.

You giggled before you could stop yourself, and his gaze snapped up to your face, eyes getting huge. “Come here and start the fire in the oven.”

He hurried over, opening the door you pointed to and blowing fire into the wood until it caught.

“Thank you, and no, you cannot have that, it is part of my super-special hoard.” You took the album and hugged it to yourself.

He looked disappointed, but nodded. “I see. Best not to fight my treasure over her hoard.”

“Now, about the pile of stuff out there,” You gestured toward the entrance while you waited for the stove to heat up more.

He blinked a few times. “You wish to organize your hoard?”

You nodded. “I don’t think it looks quite right piled in the middle of our living-area. If you can move the big pieces of furniture, I’ll organize the rest.”

He nodded in agreement, looking up to release a puff of smoke so that it wouldn’t go into your face. “Okay, shall I start with the fridge?”

You nodded. “That would be nice, yes.” You graced him with a smile and he suddenly smiled back and you just about died. That was a fantastic smile.

He jogged off and a while later the fridge (plus a couple dents) was pushed through the cave entrance, then he shifted again, coming in and moving it against the cave wall and then plugging it into the strange-looking power-source his mother had apparently given him. It looked like a strange blue box with smooth sides, but the plug seemed to fit right in.

You gave him another smile, nodding when he looked over at you for approval.

His grin came easily, and he almost skipped off.

You started laughing to yourself. You’d thought he was a little strange when you first met him, but this was just…adorable. He was so eager to please you, and you honestly weren’t sure why, but it was very endearing. It made you feel welcome in the cave, not that he hadn’t been welcoming before, he’d made sure you were comfortable and provided everything you needed, but it gave the stone walls in which you lived a certain sort of warmth that the magic lights didn’t provide.

You turned back to the stove and put the pan on the stove to heat the oil.

He grunted behind you and you jumped as a clatter followed, turning to see a bright red, antique baking cabinet.

You looked at Hoseok in surprise. “That’s not part of my hoard.”

He shook his head. “It’s part of mine. But it looked like the wooden boxes in your cooking area so I thought you might want it here. You have many food items. Do you hoard food for winter like squirrels?”

“Um, sort of? Did your mother not…nevermind, she probably summoned her food if she’s a witch.”

He nodded.

“Okay, well, normal humans can’t do that. So, as a collective we sort of gather food and make it last. Ship it all around the world. You don’t get out much, do you?”

“I go flying everyday.”

“Okay, let me rephrase that, you don’t interact with humans much, do you?”

“They hunted us. We don’t want that to start again,” He said, but there was a nervous quality to his tone.

You tilted your head, suppressing a smile. “You’re scared of them.”

“Am not.”

You nodded. “You are. Which story did it? Beowulf? Or St. George and the Dragon? Or was it an Arthurian tale?”

He kicked at the leg of the cabinet with a scowl. “St. George.”

You giggled outright, earning a hurt look from him. “You realize humans honestly think those are just folk tales, right? Legends? Told with awe and wonder but not believed? You could completely pass as human. I mean, you’d get yelled at for smoking in a public place, but most people wouldn’t even notice that you didn’t have a cigarette. They’re oblivious that way.”

“But you’re not?”

“I didn’t say that, I just meant humans as a whole are pretty stupid. Heck, I bet some people saw you flying today and those people are probably already getting called lunatics and drunks, or the kids’ parents are laughing and telling them that they have such vivid imaginations. And there are a lot of publications that write good things about dragons nowadays. Like Eragon, or Dragon Slippers, and so many others that I can’t even think of right now. I’ve got a few in my hoard. I’ll lend them to you.” You turned back to the pan and started carefully adding the meat to the pan. It was strange how easily you switched to referring to your belongings as your hoard.

“Oh…thank you…” He seemed a little flustered.

“Only if you want to, though, I mean, I understand if you don’t. Not everyone likes reading,” You quickly amended, wondering if you’d crossed some sort of line.

“No, no, I just…most dragons don’t share their treasures.”

“Ah, but I’m technically part of your hoard, so technically, my hoard belongs to your hoard, you just have to respect it and my decisions of how to use, share, or not-share my hoard.”

He looked at you blankly, then looked absolutely gobsmacked once it set it. “Wow, you’re really smart. You’re one of the best treasures I’ve ever collected for my hoard.” His gaze shifted to the stove, and you noticed him lick his lips.

“Would you…like to eat with me when I’m done?”

He nodded. “I would very much like that.”

You nodded. “Alright. I’ll call you when the food is ready.”

He nodded and slowly slunk away, as if reluctant but wanting to respect your space.

You loved the way he always referred to you as a treasure, but everything else just seemed to be part of his hoard. You were pretty, and you were his treasure.

You were also his prisoner, but something told you he was a sucker for your smiles and might be worked on. You just needed to get to know him better, and let him get to know you better. You honestly kind of liked it here. It was better than that creaky house you were renting that had been built and decorated in the seventies and never escaped it. He was good for conversation too. Not to mention you actually felt safe, despite being trapped with a dragon, because he had added you to his hoard.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, Hoseok?”

“Um, you can call me Hobi. My family does. And my friends. I just…wanted to tell you that you could as well.”

“Okay, Hobi,” You answered easily. Very cute.

“Okay.”

You smiled when you could tell he was hovering in the doorway. “Did you want to taste test this with me? See if I have the balance of spices right?” You pulled out a smaller piece of the meat and managed to separate it into two pieces.

He was by your side in a hurry, easily opening up like a little chick and taking the piece of meat from the chopsticks you held.

You watched his face for a reaction.

He grinned. “Oh! That’s good!”

You tasted it and nodded, adding a little more pepper. “Very. What kind of meat was that?”

“Cow. My father had some leftover and I’d already had a tasty deer, but I thought you’d like some since he was taking some home to my mother.” He shrugged, eyes on the pan. “How did you think to cook it like this?”

“Well, I only had one pan when I started cooking and I want to wash my pots and pans and stuff before I use those. This seemed like the best option.” You put more meat into the pan, then turned and went to the fridge, grabbing some veggies and such to cut up and have with your meat since you hadn’t had veggies since before you were trapped here. Hoseok didn’t seem to think of anything other than meat.

He was hovering over your shoulder, watching. “Smells…fiery.”

“Peppers. Bell peppers. I’m not really going to cook them, probably just eat them with the some veggie dip,” You shrugged and went back in the fridge to grab the previously chopped veggies and the veggie dip.

He was tasting the peppers already, looking pleased. “Mmm. Nice heat. We should have more of these.”

You nodded. “Well, this is all I have aside from my hot sauce and salsa. Actually, I probably have some habanero sauce. Somewhere.” You shrugged.

He hummed softly.

“Maybe I’ll make something spicy tomorrow.” You shrugged, not looking to him.

He nodded, then suddenly he was very close, his nose booping your cheek before he was gone. Slipping out of the room with a grace you didn’t know a dragon could possess.

You just hoped that one day the sunshine dragon would actually let you see the sun shining again soon.

--

Part 1 ~ Part 3

Masterlist ~ Hoseok Masterpost

[gvldntrbl]

Home Sweet Home 

Character: River Hartwell, (introducing) Royce Hartwell, Rain Hartwell, (mentions) Yara Hartwell, Rhys Hartwell, Rowan Hartwell, Robin LaFleur

Location: Day Court - River’s Duchy / Estate

“Yazzy!” It was a rarity and a relief to hear that name again. Only one person called River that, her baby sister, Rain. Instantly, it alerted the duchess that the sole reason for her unexpected arrival to her duchy had not been in vain. She deeply hugged Rain, the younger fae towered over her now. A sigh of relief left her at the physical confirmation that her sister was okay. Rain was alive and well and her worry had been for naught. Too much time had passed for Rain to be considered a child. Almost two decades into her first century, she was a full fledged woman. Kind of heart, generous in nature and, dare River even say it, mischievous with a natural charisma about herself. Rain Hartwell was a force. While River was only her sister, she was proud to even have a positive influence in making certain that at least one Hartwell fathered from Royce’s loins remained true to the essence of their mother, Yara. Even if it was at the expense of herself, River knew that selfishly, she would do it again. 

She chuckled, glancing up at Rain and going to hold her sister’s face in her hands. “Yael," She greeted Rain, a soft smile on her lips as she visually took her in. It was a habit of theirs. Began by their mother. Outside of their home, they heavily carried the traditions befallen to all that bore the Hartwell name. Including the ‘R’ letter forenames. But as a nuclear unit, when she lived, Yara called them by their middle names. Subtly reminding them that they were more than that. They could, and should, belong to themselves. If ever they so desired. Somehow, the ritual continued after her, at least amongst her daughters. “I’m glad you’re safe. If you weren’t...” A quiet moment passed between them before River sighed and her hands fell away from her sister’s face. “I take it you’re returning with me to the Golden City?” It wasn’t an inquiry and Rain knew as much by River’s tone. It was far more curious for Rain to have returned home to their duchy alone. “Yes,” River could hear it, the humored eye roll Rain offered in concession. “It was quicker for me to come here than to travel to the palace. I knew you’d come for me.” She boasted, smirking down at River, whom with her own natural height only felt short in the presence of few. Rain slipped her arm into River’s as they walked further into the estate. “You always do, Yaz.”

The two sisters briefly had crossed paths during the Tournament at autumn. The contests were, by far, River’s favorite to spectate. But Rain preferred to venture off and blend into the courts she visited, she said that it was better to experience them like a true member. Or as close to being one as she could get. Now that the worry within River had subsided and they were home, the women exchanged stories of their time in autumn. Clearly avoiding the topic of the final night there. River laughed, listening to her sister’s finishing a tale of out drinking a handsome warrior thrice her size in palm wine. A day court specialty. He thought the drink soft and believed that he could hold the spirit better than she. Especially since autumn herald such alcohol like cider and more unofficially, white spirit. 

“Oh!” Rain exclaimed afterwards, sharp mind already onto another topic already, her sparkling eyes fell onto River before continuing. “The she-wolf!” The ascent of River’s glass towards her mouth of chilled spirits in her hand slowed. “Yes, her! Did you think I’d forget? I saw you. Looking quite cute.” Rain paused, dark eyes narrowing as they scanned River’s face. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that.” She watched as River calmly sipped her drink. “We’re courting.” She said, the corners of her cheeks upturning in a faint smile. “Officially.” If River couldn’t make her sister believe that her feelings for the lupine fae were genuine then... how in the hell could she truly fool anyone else closest to her of their facetious budding love? “So you may see her attend events with me for the foreseeable future.” A low breeze of laughter left River at the noise of unladylike excitement Rain emitted. “Rain!” She admonished half-heartedly, still chuckling. “If the time comes, you will meet her.”

“Why not now?” The inquiry was uttered from behind the pair. Said by the only voice that gave River Hartwell true pause. The sound of his steps neared before the vision of her father made itself known. The former duke of River’s duchy and once second in line prince to day’s throne, Royce Hartwell. The patriarch of River’s side of the Hartwell line. First born was her, then her brother and clear favorite of their father, Rhys, lastly followed by Rain. River and Rain sat under the refreshing shade of the patio, together on the same piece of furniture. Royce decided to sit opposite them, in the chair closest to River. “Father,” She greeted with a brief nod. “River,” He murmured her name as he sat back, leaned comfortable against the spine of the chair as he looked at her. “You know dislike repeating myself. Why not now?” Brown hands clasped, interlocked above his lap before he continued. “You are, after all, a duchess. Are you not?” The drink in River’s grasp moved to sit, back onto the table top, beside her. The light, pleasant atmosphere evaporating like a weakly woven mirage the more Royce spoke. “And what does she do? ...This wolf. Does she have a name?”

The disdain in his voice was clear. After nearly two centuries of knowing him, River could identify that tone effortlessly. It was one she reacted to without thought. “A huntress for the wild hunt.” River repeated easily, the two did exchange important information with each other. Which was essential for their ruse to work. “Robin LaFleur.” The dark brows of her father lowered, seemingly, with each short word she responded with. “A huntress. ...Does she not have a defined station there? Even among wolves.” Royce blinked. “LaFleur. I’ve not heard of that name within the wild hunt. Who are her parents? What do they do?” River ignored the quiet concern that donned Rain’s face at their father’s barrage of inquiries. Mentioning her would shift Royce’s attention and so the duchess would bear it. “You’ve not heard of them as she has none. Her name is her own.” The high fae was still for a moment, silently retaining the news before once more he spoke. 

“You’re courting an orphan?” His words may have been framed as such but River knew that her father was not asking. He was merely rephrasing her own words. “I did not know that you were so charitable, River. Your mother would be proud.” A quiet gasp exited the younger fae beside her. “Rain.” The instruction in River’s voice was apparent and immediately, quietly, Rain excused herself from the patio at River’s behest. Fortunately, Royce allowed it. In his benevolence, he even waited until his youngest daughter had left to continue. “River.” It was only when her name left his tongue that she truly understood the full weight of utter disappointment upon her shoulders. He sighed and River had the wisdom to bow her head and avert her gaze, trying to ignore the fretfulness that entered her being at incoming sandstorm of emotion within her that only Royce Hartwell could cultivate. For a high fae so lofty, he truly did have a knack for making River feel small.

“Your proclivities aside, out of all the available fae of equal or higher standing in other, more respectable courts. You chose to flaunt around a foundling lupine. One of which has such an inconsequential station among her own hunt that she wasn’t deigned the responsibility to lead those in whatever she does.” An empty scoff escaped Royce as a glass of ember spirit and ice was placed into his outstretched hand. “Exactly, tell me, what does a huntress do? What does such a profession entail?” He watched, dark eyes on River in expectance of an answer. To which, she gave, watching as he listened disinterested. Royce inhaled, holding a finger up in thought. “So she’s a courier?” He surmised. “You bring this house, this family, the opportunity to possibly one day accept a nameless, lupine courier? A she-wolf whom, by her very nature, cannot impregnate you nor produce heirs.” A tense silence settled among the two as Royce regarded his firstborn. “Must you truly emulate your cousin? Was it not enough for her to pluck her own wolf out of those woods and nearly prowl amongst them herself? But now for you, too, to go sniffing behind one out of some forsaken idealized desire to be her?” With her downward gaze, River felt more than saw her father move. The timbre of Royce’s voice had softened, a hand extended to lift River’s lowered jaw with the crook of his finger, forcing her eyes and attention to rise and land upon him. “Lest you forget whose child you are, hmm.” It was an old favorite retort of Royce’s. Only uttered quietly between them when he deemed that River was becoming too much like a child of his brother, Raymond, than that of one born to him. Decades had passed since her uncle’s passing and quietly, in the most honest corner of her heart, River  believed as though her father competed against the ghost of day’s deceased former high lord. 

Royce waited another moment, as River remained silent while her face still in his hold, before he spoke again in a low voice. “I do hope that my faith in you is not misplaced, River. Or shall I have Rain do what you cannot?” It was the mention of her sister, the knowledge that he would use Rain as a political pawn to advance his selfish agenda had River stubbornly level her gaze with his. “Ah, yes. There she is.” He meant the flash of ire that shone in her dark brown eyes. A gift of equal measure from both he and his deceased wife. “My child. Welcome home.” He pressed an empty, emotionless kiss to the high forehead he’d gifted her before standing to leave. “You have been missed.” Mere steps from the open doorway, River heard him pause. “I take it you and this wolf of yours shan’t be a problem, hmm? We all have desires but we don’t take them home with us. Some pets are only meant for outside, River.” With that, Royce took his leave. 

Finally alone, River breathed her second sigh of relief since entering her own home. She would return to the Golden City with haste and the duchess would certainly take her sister with her. But first, she had her people to tend to. It was still, after all, her duchy.

[dat-carovieh]

A Grain of Truth

Summary: Jaskier had been cursed to look like a bear. Geralt will not rest until he helped his bard to lift that curse. 

Tags: Cursed Jaskier | Dandelion, Furry JaskierMonster Jaskier | Dandelion, Caring Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Angst, Eventual Fluff, Romance, Fluff and Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Bear Jaskier, Fluff, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia           

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Triss Merigold            

Geralt entered the town through the main gate on Roach’s back. He’s been here a couple of times and he made his way straight to the inn that he was always staying in. He had once saved the town from a nasty Kikimora infestation which was why he was mostly tolerated here. The winter was barely over and he had just left Kaer Morhen. The plan was to meet up with Jaskier here. He had spent the winter mostly in Oxenfurt, teaching at the university. Geralt hoped the bard would already be here, so they could leave again soon.

Even though he was tolerated here, he didn’t feel like staying too long. He tied Roach in front of the tavern and entered. The barkeep looked up, as he got in and nodded slightly as a greeting. Geralt had always brought a good amount of money in, so at least the owners of the tavern somehow liked him.

“Hello Borlin,” Geralt greeted him.

“Geralt,” the man said. “A room for you?”

“First an ale. Has Jaskier already arrived?”

Borlin shook his head as he poured the ale. “Haven’t seen him. You wanted to meet up here?”

Geralt nodded. “Then I will take a room.”

Borlin put the mug down. “Sure, I have one prepared for you.”

“I will probably look around, see if I can get a contract for the next days. If Jaskier arrives, will you tell him that I’m already here?” Geralt asked and dropped some extra coin on the counter.

“’course Geralt.”

The Witcher took his ale and sat down at a table. It wasn’t new, that they wouldn’t arrive at the same time. Travels like this are hard to schedule so there could always be a couple of days difference. Hopefully it wouldn’t take the bard to long and his travel was safe.

 The next day, Geralt had found a message on the noticeboard. Someone explicitly asked for a Witcher. It had no real information. He had sought out the person who was looking for the Witcher. He only told Geralt, there was apparently a monster living in a hut in the woods behind the village. Allegedly, it had attacked a couple of villagers, but luckily no one had been killed yet. The man also had not said anything about injuries so Geralt was not sure if that was a job for his sword. Still Geralt had decided to check out the hut and make sure the town was safe.

He thought it best to leave Roach behind, since the way from Kaer Morhen had been pretty far and she absolutely needed a rest. And it was not far to the hut, so he might as well walk.

“I’ll be back soon. Be good and if Jaskier comes by, say hi from me,” he instructed the horse with a pat on her nose, before he left.

Like he had been told, it wasn’t a long walk. He had brought both of his swords, since he had no idea, what he should expect. He was sneaking up to the hut, steel sword drawn. He could always switch to silver, but often steel was sufficient. The hut looked really run down. It seemed like it had been abandoned ages ago. That was probably why the monster decided to seek shelter here. He tried to have a look inside through a crack in the wood but he couldn’t see much. Only a bed that looked like someone had actually been using it very recently. A look at the door told him he could absolutely not enter unnoticed because that old door wood squeak. He decided to throw it open and barge in. The Witcher lifted his sword and quickly walked through the door finding himself in a small but surprisingly tidy room. It seemed like the ‘monster’ might even be civilized. Geralt still didn’t lower his weapon. After a quick look around he noticed the resident of the hut. At first Geralt thought he was seeing a bear but the bear was wearing clothes and it looked at him, scared.

“Geralt,” the bear said, and its deep voice sounded relived. Geralt squinted at the creature and inched a little closer. It was not exactly a bear, he realized. Only as tall as the average man, the head smaller than a beasts, a little bigger than a humans head, the snout a lot smaller, nearer to a human’s mouth than an actual bear snout.

“How do you know my name?” he asked skeptical.

“I feared you wouldn’t recognize me,” it said and looked sad.

“Should I?”, Geralt asked. That creature definitely was intelligent and didn’t seem like a threat.

“It’s me, Jaskier,” was the answer. Geralt’s eyes widened in surprise.

“No, that can’t be.”

He stepped closer and looked over the creature. The whole body was covered in fur, the face looked nothing like a human face but then he saw the eyes and he knew it was true. Those eyes as blue as the sky, as beautiful as ever, but so sad. He had found Jaskier, who for some reason, looked like a monster.

“Jaskier.” Geralt dropped his sword, walked up to the bard and hugged him. “What happened to you?” he asked. He even smelled like Jaskier. Not exactly, there was the typical smell that furred animal all shared. And a little fear. It had been more when he came in, but since Jaskier had recognized him the smell of fear had lessened. There was also Jaskier’s typical smell mixed into it.

“Short version, I was cursed.”

“What did you do?”, Geralt asked as he let him go again and looked at him.

“Why would you think I did something? It was someone else who cursed me,” Jaskier looked and sounded properly offended.

“Okay, so what happened?” Geralt rephrased his question.

“Well maybe I bedded the lover of a powerful wizard and he was not happy about it. It’s really not my fault that he couldn’t please her.” Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Of course something like that would happen to you one day.”

“Good to know that you have so much trust in me.” Jaskier looked offended.

“You are covered in fur and have fangs, so it did happen to you.”

Jaskier turned around and got himself a chair from the desk behind him to sit down. Geralt finally got the chance to look around the little hut. He realized it did look a lot like he would expect a place that Jaskier lived in to look like. There was his lute standing in a corner, leaned against the wall. The very same lute, Jaskier had gotten from Filavandrel shortly after they’ve met for the first time. The desk was covered in paper, probably new songs.  There was a cooking place and a little table. Everything was tidy and very clean. And the bear was wearing clothes that looked a lot like Jaskier’s. Geralt wasn’t sure but he thought, he had even seen these very trousers before.

“Please sit down, “ Jaskier said and gestured to the second chair in the room. “I guess, the townspeople have sent you to kill me.”

Geralt nodded, as he pulled the chair up in front of the bard and sat down.

“But you’re not going to?” Jaskier asked, sounding slightly concerned. Geralt’s eyes widened.

“Of course not. I thought you knew me. I don’t kill conscious beings if it’s not absolutely necessary and you are also my friend. You don’t seem to have changed, except for your appearance.”

Jaskier looked down, grinning, and put a hand on his chest. “I mean, I’ve always been hairy, so not too much change.” Geralt laughed a little at that.

“So, tell me the whole story. I know, you can’t wait to do so,” Geralt requested.

“Well, I’d been in Oxenfurt, as you know, and a couple of weeks ago, I met her. Eleanar, she was so beautiful, long brown locks, green eyes, beautiful skin, and this smile.” Jaskier seemed to lose himself a little in his description of that woman. Geralt felt a little annoyed by it and also a little sting in his chest that he couldn’t explain.

“Anyway, she was so nice, she loved my music, you know, unlike certain other people.” He raised an eyebrow at Geralt. “And she thought I was funny. We talked and she invited me over to her place. Of course, I didn’t say no. We went straight to the bedroom, I didn’t really see much from the house and couldn’t tell that she wasn’t living alone. Then, when I was just really enjoying myself, this guy barges in screaming.

I thought to myself ‘Shit, better get out of here quick’ jumped of the bed and tried to gather my clothes. I could hear him mutter something and then saying something about a curse, but I didn’t listen to him and just ran out as quick as I could. When I woke up the next day and I looked in the mirror, I nearly shat my pants when I looked like that.” He gestured to his face.

“It took me a while to understand, what had happened and that the creature in the mirror really was me. I packed up my stuff, because of course I couldn’t stay in Oxenfurt like that, too many people. I left a note for the university that I had to leave due to personal reasons. I hope they don’t hold a grudge because I left them in the middle of the semester. I wrapped myself in my cloak, to hide myself and was able to leave the city without anyone seeing my face.

It was of course still the middle of the winter. My pelt protected me from the cold but it was really hard to find food. I decided the best would be to come here. I bet the townsfolk claimed I’ve attacked them but I didn’t. I moved in here and tried to keep quiet. I stole some food and hunted in the woods. But I knew I would have to make sure that you would find me. I couldn’t really go into town to find you. So, about a week ago I started to scare some of the people in hopes that when you would come into town, they would send you. And it worked.”

“You are lucky, it worked. Had there come another Witcher before me, he might have killed you on sight,” Geralt said.

“But they didn’t. And I had to find you somehow. Couldn’t have you wait for me thinking I had abandoned you.”

The rest will be uploaded on AO3, hopefully somewhat regularly.

[dungeons-and-divination]

Oath of REDEMPTION PALADIN - Draconblood DRAGONBORN - Prisoner

I don’t necessarily have a love for paladins despite how much my characters usually end up being “spiritual”. But I gotta admit, I was kinda fascinated by what came out from his story and I wouldn’t mind playing him myself at all. I hope you all enjoy him just as much.

NAME: Zral’thid Benorax (52yo)

TAROTS

Mind: Knight of pentacles (upright) I wasn’t really expecting to get a card with so many positive traits linked to a character with that kind of background. Apparently Zral’thid has always been a person of common sense and practicality, someone that believes that honest hard work is the way to truly achieve your dreams. It made me wonder how he even got imprisoned in the first place, but don’t worry, you’ll found out about it later. I still had from this immediately the feeling that because of his very determined and loyal nature, he probably was doing something related to protecting other people most likely. It also seems like his time in prison made him even more committed to the kind of person he used to be though, like instead of breaking him, Zral’thid found purpose in the punishment. Very noble intents indeed then somewhere in there.

Body: Five of wands (reversed) This card just confirmed that impression that there was some kind of struggle that Zral’thid had to live through. It was something deep in his mind and spirit, so much so that he felt physically ill at times. Till he just exploded and did something rush, totally contrasting his practical nature. It seems his time in jail was enough for him to find peace and harmony once again. Where others might have surrendered to despair, he found a new balance, like I already mentioned, in his focus for order. I do feel like he also probably came to a solution to the dilemma that made him end up in jail in the first place, even if maybe it wasn’t necessarily a solution he wanted at first or particularly liked.

Spirit: Page of swords (upright) The tarot are being very good to me with all these confirmations of my impression going on here. Indeed, Zral’thid found a balance between his protective nature and the need to be patient, to wait for the right moment to act. He’s more vigilant, but he’s still the same man that doesn’t like injustice and always tries to be fair to people. He will always be inquisitive, on the hunt for the truth and a stickler to rules, but he’s also well aware that the justice system isn’t always right nor fair. All in all, he has this tormented, wise, loner vibe to him, but deep inside he’s just an overprotective bear that prefers to use words to defend people instead of a sword because of his oath.

Past: Eight of cups (reversed) So, I had already pretty much a good idea of what Zral’thid’s “past” tarot could have in store for him. I was not surprised when a card that expresses a deep discomfort with the status quo came up, then. I knew that he’d been kind of struggling with something but at the same time his instinct to follow the rules was probably holding him back from acting of whatever the problem was. Yet, this card adds a layer of fear for the uncertainty that lies within the change that his actions might have brought were he to actually succeed. I felt like I needed to clear a bit where this fear might have come from, and the deck gave me a Four of swords reversed. Which made me even more confused for a moment. Then I remembered that one of the meanings of this card is losing faith, and I can see him crumbling under the pressure of whatever situation he was dealing with and losing the righteous path he’d been following, especially if he felt like there was a lack of support or deceitfulness around him. Maybe not a lack of faith in his deity, but on something else then.

Present: Six of cups (upright) It just makes sense that after that big hit from the “past” tarot he gets something related to nostalgia of better times. Yet, Zral’this is well aware that he remembers them as good times cause he did not know, at the time, of the deceitfulness around him. So, like I said previously, despite his facade of the loner wolf, he actually craves the company of a new family so that he can leave behind that homesickness for a home that he knows he doesn’t belong to anymore. Very, very fitting indeed.

Future: Four of pentacles (reversed) I’m so happy that this is the last tarot for him. A hopeful ending after such a hard life is just what Zral’this deserves honestly. So, I really hope that he in fact has the chance to let go of the past, that he stops regretting not being able to do more for his people. But especially, that he realizes that he absolutely can’t control what happens to others, and that he can only do so much to save the world when it crumbles around him. As a general suggestion on how to play him, I’m pretty sure I said enough already, but in case it wasn’t obvious, I’d say have him be slow to trust the people in the party, especially those that like to lie a lot. He’s not necessarily gonna be confrontational with them; actually, he’s probably just gonna be quiet most of the time. Just, I imagine him being able to open up at first only with those that are more open and friendly with him in the first place.

FULL BACKSTORY

Zral’this was born in the house of family friends. By the time he was born, his father, Galxer, had already been executed for treason and his mother, Praam’teth, was still a member of the same rebellion group his father had been part of. It wasn’t long after his birth before his mother had to flee the Realm and leave him behind to avoid being executed herself. (The rebellion was trying to get rid of the people that had forcibly taken power of the Realm he was born into.) With no other family left to raise him and none of his mother’s friends left in town to help him (since they all were put to death or had to go into hiding), Zral’this ended up in an orphanage, where he was raised to despise his own family and believe in the laws of the new established power. It wasn’t a happy childhood, but the orphanage was basically a preparatory school before he was allowed to join a true military academy. So it was pretty much a given that when he reached the right age he started to train to become part of the Realm’s army. Being part of the military, despite how unimportant he was all in all, made Zral’this have a taste of the corruption he had vague memories of his mother and her friends talking about it all before he “moved” to the orphanage.  Despite how much Zral’this hated himself for doing it, he started giving information of what he overheard to someone that approached him once they recognized him as Praam’s son and they presented themselves as an old friend of his mother. It wasn’t long before Zral’this was found out for giving information to a newly reformed rebellion group. Despite his crime, it was decided that he was just to spend some time in jail instead of being put to death, in hopes that he would see his mistakes and return to his service of the Realm. Apparently, one of his superiors saw some potential in him and believed he could make a good general out of him, with enough time. In prison, Zral’this had time to reflect on how wrong he had been to trust the Realm; just because the people in it had shown some mercy in raising him, it didn’t mean that everything they did was right. Actually, it was mainly the contrary. He’d just been a pawn, like many others before him and many more would become if nothing changed.  With that realization, came the calling of a greater purpose, the growing knowledge that sometimes the better course of action is in fact not action, but waiting for the right moment or the right word placed in front of the right person. But most of all, he wanted redemption, not for himself, but for the people he hurt while following a leader that aimed only to hurt and manipulate their people instead of serving them. So, Zral’this promised himself, and the god that started to guide him, that he would make the world a less violent place with each world he uttered once he got released from jail.

SUGGESTION CORNER

Suggested features Ability scores: High Charisma and Strength, Low Constitution (I know, I don’t really think a lot of players would actually do this. Cause it’s not really a good thing to do mechanic wise. But sometimes you gotta do these things just for the sake of it. It was my first instinct.) Skill proficiencies: Athletics, Religion; replace Deception from the Prisoner Background with Persuasion (discuss it with your DM, obviously). Gaming set proficiencies: Cards or Chess Other: his Ex-Convict feature can seem a little bit in conflict with his backstory. But it’s actually not. Once again, a little bit of rephrasing, and everything is fixed. Instead of knowing people that accept bribes or having a chance to find shelter with criminals, he knows guards that are lenient because they don’t really like the people in power, or he might have an idea of where to look for groups of rebels that are organizing uprisings against tyrannical people in power. Give it a little bit of a flavor with the help and approval of your DM.

Suggested Characteristics Trait: I hoard information, you never know what may come in handy. Ideal: I never betray those who trust me. Bond: I will not rest while others suffer fates similar to mine. (This is referencing unjust imprisonment and unjust laws.) Flaw: I hate lying. If the choice is between dying and lying, I just might choose dying.