#but I’ve heard horror stories and mine certainly has been

[teardropsonsmyguitar]

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[bb-bare-bones]

Based on a True Story: The Conjuring and Writing Real Horror

Art and Words by Charlotte Elliott - Instagram: c.elli03

The Conjuring Franchise has always been a guilty pleasure of mine. There has always been something oddly alluring about the cursed doll of Anabelle bearing a bloody red grin; the shape of The Nun forming in the shadows of a dark abbey; a possessed child rasping in tongues while Ed Warren condemns the spirit back to hell. It’s a classic example of modern mainstream Hollywood horror.

When people learn I’m doing my PhD in horror studies, they often keenly ask me for recommendations. In blank panic, unfortunately, I forget every ‘good’ piece of horror media to ever exist. I forget my beloved Gremlins or Midsommar or The Thing. Never once have I admitted that The Conjuring has always been on my comfort list. Honestly, it’s kind of embarrassing.

It’s not the cheap jumpscares, or lacklustre storytelling. Sometimes, it’s nice to indulge in predictability. And sure, there’s the not-so-subtle message of conservatism. I can look past that, albeit grudgingly.

As a writer, the reason I feel weird about liking The Conjuring is its fabrication. Of course, no one expected Ed and Lorraine Warren - played by Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga - to be as perfectly vanilla as their on-screen counterparts. I’m certain most people roll their eyes as supposed demonologist Ed performs a house-shaking exorcism, whilst Lorraine has a convenient vision that reveals the last piece of the puzzle.

But who could blame Hollywood for ramping it up to make a profit? Isn’t that the crux of what horror and entertainment is all about? Profit, profit, profit. Facts go out the window when there’s an audience to entertain.

When I first became interested in horror based on ‘truth’, I tried my hand at writing my own dramatic short story based upon an alleged ‘real’ haunting. My source of inspiration was the Ancient Ram Inn in Gloucestershire, England. The Ram Inn self-proclaims to be a location of numerous historical true hauntings, presented as indisputable fact. The Inn’s website says there are Norman French records of the 800-year-old property, citing the Gloucester Records Office.

When researching, I couldn’t find any public records on the local archive database. Many websites described the Inn’s ‘true historical crimes’: a woman burned for witchcraft, a man murdered after his head was forced into the fireplace, an innkeeper’s daughter killed upstairs - if you believe hauntedrooms.com. In The Daily Mail, the former owner’s daughter, Carole Humphries, recounted “people running out of the house screaming”, stating “objects move… we used to hear the ghosts of murdered children''. Her father John told the BBC eight guests had to be exorcised.

The website boasts that the Ram Inn is built on ancient Pagan ritual grounds excavated by Bristol University. However, no academic records exist. I even contacted Dr. Stuart Prior, who is responsible for excavations in the Gloucestershire area. He said this claim is “certainly not related to any of the archeology [here]. I’ve never even heard of the Ram Inn''.

Not unlike The Conjuring stories, localised horror legends that claim to be based on truth are milked to generate profit. During my writing, I came to the conclusion that the Ram Inn’s original alleged victims cannot be vouched for. Especially thanks to questionable internet sources. Whatever the truth is in Gloucestershire, the Ram Inn still helped to inspire a (very average) short story. And it isn’t hurting anyone by claiming a spooky history.

The same cannot necessarily be said about The Conjuring. It’s not about the filmmakers ‘tricking’ the audience into thinking these events occurred. It’s not about the desire to profit from a fanciful story. Presenting ‘truth’ in film is dicey at best (where do you draw the line?). But this isn’t a criticism about cinematic accuracy.

My big issue with The Conjuring is not its extreme creative licence. The Nun II seriously goes as far to imply Lorraine Warren is a descendant of Saint Lucy. Sure, whatever. What I find uncomfortable is that The Conjuring presents the Warrens as the perfect Godly couple. In reality, they were crooks taking advantage of vulnerable people.

The latest instalment of the franchise, The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It (2021), covers the trial of Arne Johnson. In 1981, the Warrens did try and get off a man convicted of manslaughter by using demonic possession as a defence. Although an interesting premise for a movie, The Conjuring unquestionably excuses Johnson’s actions by literally presenting ‘the devil made me do it’ argument. The Conjuring and The Conjuring 2 merely follow ghostly hauntings; the third film takes it one step further by disrespecting a real victim, Johnson’s landlord Alan Bono.

When I researched the Ancient Ram Inn, it seemed that the ghosts were so far back in history that no one knew the whole story anymore. Perhaps now, you can just claim anything. Unlike the Inn, The Conjuring films take place between the 1970s-1980s. It’s recent enough that we can decisively analyse the erasure of the ugly truth.

Ed and Lorraine Warren were terrible people that should not be given grace. They conducted paranormal investigations to scam people by citing false ‘scientific methods’. Ed had an affair with a girl who was only fifteen. Allegedly, Lorraine encouraged the girl to have an abortion (resulting from her relationship with Ed) to protect the Warrens’ reputation. There was also alleged domestic violence in the family.

The Conjuring has contributed a false legacy. For a couple so devoted to Catholicism and denouncing evil, the Warrens had no problem profiting from fake science and baseless clairvoyance. Meanwhile, they were supposedly engaging in domestic abuse and pedophilia. It is clear from any basic Google search that the Warrens were not even close to the wholesome power couple we see on screen.

For anyone writing about horror “based on a true story”, I encourage you to think about The Conjuring as an example of how storytelling can be harmful. Very few people believe in an exaggerated - well, downright invented - ghost story. Especially when you swear it really happened. Deep down, the audience knows the writing is for profit and entertainment. Even my silly little Ram Inn story was mostly fictitious, despite all that research. When depicting real subjects, writers have a responsibility to be considerate when real victims are involved. On top of that, it should go without saying that it’s in poor taste to glorify dreadful people, criminals, and/or con artists. Shamefully - although I like to flick it on for an easy watch - The Conjuring contributes to the problematic legacy of the Warrens as heroes against the horrors.

[aceredshirt13]

1917: A Movie Review

(I created a Letterboxd account specifically to review WWI movies so you can find the review there if you want, but I had no idea reviews got buried so fast so I figured I'd put it here for safekeeping, too.)

Hot tip: if you, while making a movie about the futility of war, ever had to stop and think to yourself, “Okay, but are Germans, like, actually people, though?” then I can only both recommend you kindly consider not making a war movie, and pray for your speedy recovery in the hospital after I have beaned you with a chair.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. The rest, which contains spoilers, is under the cut.

I should preface this by saying that I am not an expert on cinematography by any means, and I also watched this movie on an airplane, which means that I wouldn’t have good opinions on the cinematography even if I were an expert on it. I also had not seen any other World War I movies before this one - the only experience I’d had with WWI prior was in the form of books, half the fourth season of Blackadder, an episode of The Twilight Zone, and the occasional spectacularly dark Jeeves and Wooster fanfic. But I had grown interested in learning about the horrors of the war, and had heard much about 1917 and its portrayals of them - so after finishing Barbie on the same international flight, I decided to do a Great War spin on the Barbenheimer formula and give 1917 a whirl.

In terms of horrors, the movie certainly delivers. I will probably never forget Schofield accidentally plunging his hand in the chest cavity of a rotting corpse, or having to crawl to a riverbank over a row of bloated cadavers. Being forced to relive the memory of these scenes actually made me sick to my stomach just now. It is not as much of a visceral waking nightmare as the 2022 version of All Quiet on the Western Front, but it is, without question, awful to see. Gory imagery, however, does not a good war movie make - for that is the burden that the writing must bear.

It’s a pretty simple story. Two very young British privates are given an insanely dangerous mission to travel over enemy lines and deliver a message to call off an attack that will end in disaster, and because one of them has a brother in danger of dying if they don’t succeed, travel they do. Blake (the one with the brother) is chatty, good-humored, and naive about the realities of war, while Schofield (not the one with the brother) is reserved and cynical, traumatized to the point of amnesia from his service at the Somme. Their friendship is endearing, and is unquestionably the best part of the movie. We then follow them through many quiet, almost video game-like journey sequences across No Man’s Land, occasionally interspersed with conversation, mishaps, and near-death situations they help each other out of. Then, not even halfway into the movie, tragedy strikes, and Schofield must make the rest of the journey alone - through more quiet, video game-like journey sequences that sometimes suffer from pacing problems due to the lack of either interpersonal interaction or enough things going on save for walking to keep the viewer engaged. (I actually began to find myself wishing the latter part of the movie was a video game, so I could at least take the exploration into my own hands.) At the end of it all, he reaches his target a bit tardily, but is ultimately able to convince the captain that the push should come to an end, and Blake’s brother is, for now, spared an untimely death. The film ends with our surviving hero leaning back against a tree, gazing at a letter his mother gave him that reads “Come back to me.” before the screen cuts to black.

Now, I’ve been watching WWI films with a friend of mine who is more well-versed in war media than myself, and they let me know after watching this movie on their own that the “pushing past people in the trenches so that you can give a message to call off an attack” segment is the plot of the final scene of Gallipoli. I do not plan to watch Gallipoli, mainly due to the immense degree of historical inaccuracies fabricated to paint British colonial attitudes in a horrible light (which is something that could have very easily been done without erasing the massive losses of an entire section of the British Army that was supporting the Australians), so if you do, you might want to skip ahead to the next paragraph. But if you don’t, well, my friend also let me know that unlike in 1917, where Schofield is too late to completely stop the attack but not too late to spare the elder Blake’s life, in Gallipoli the attempt fails, and the main character’s friend is killed. So not only does 1917 come off as a touch derivative, but it is actually softer than the predecessor it derives from. The captain’s speech about the futility of Schofield’s efforts in the face of future attack orders rings true, but in the end Schofield fulfilled his promise to his dead friend, completed his mission, and lived to tell the tale. Perhaps it was so audiences wouldn’t be disappointed or dissatisfied, and feel the efforts weren’t all for nothing (the Dawn Patrol movies, though more successful at their message than 1917, are a bit guilty of this), but isn’t the entire point of anti-war cinema that it is always, always all for nothing? Shouldn’t you feel miserable, and angry, and dissatisfied?

Well, I did actually feel miserable, and angry, and dissatisfied at the end of this movie, but not for the right reasons. I would be willing to forgive pacing issues and a slightly-too-bright ending, because there was a lot in the movie to like, particularly in regard to the frightening imagery and the relationship between Schofield and Blake. The most compelling scenes in the movie, in fact, surround the aforementioned tragedy that results in two becoming one - but ay, there’s the rub. 

Because remember how I said that their friendship was the best part of the movie? Yeah, well, the way that friendship ends is the worst.

So Blake and Schofield are walking along, and they find a barn. They happen to find some milk, and are enthusiastically drinking it while a dogfight takes place overhead - and suddenly a German plane comes careening into the barn in flames. The pilot survives, but is on fire and in terrible pain, so the pair pull him free and pat the fire out. Schofield suggests they put the man out of his misery, but Blake protests because the pilot is begging for water, and asks Schofield to get some for him from the pump. And as he does, the injured German pilot - a man who has just been saved from an extremely painful death by two of his enemies who could have killed him on sight or abandoned him to burn - stabs Blake in the stomach.

I could go on about how shocked and devastated I was at Blake’s subsequent slow and painful death from blood loss, and how Schofield is at his side taking care of him until the very end. About how Blake asks him to take the picture of his family out of his pocket, and show it to him, so he can look at them as he dies - about how after he’s dead, Schofield tries to take his body to a field of blossoming trees, because Blake had spoken earlier about how much he loved them, and how his mother taught him how to identify the flowers, but is picked up by another detachment and forced to abandon his friend’s body where it is. That last bit was, to me, the most affecting and sad part of the movie. But beneath it all, I had one thought, and that thought was “this movie had better have some good German representation to make up for that”.

So I waited, patiently, for the movie to let me know that that was just one man - that that did not represent the entire German army. It’s certainly unlikely for the person you save from death to immediately betray you, but not unheard of - perhaps the pilot was particularly nasty, or prideful, or patriotic, motivated by a hatred of the enemy so powerful that he would rather die than be taken prisoner. Certainly a fair share of real-life RFC pilots were possessed of a complete lack of empathy for and a murderous loathing of their German enemies, so it’s just as certain that the inverse was true. All the movie had to do in turn was show that a German soldier could be just as capable of kindness as poor Blake, or show that a British soldier could be just as heartless as the pilot. And when Schofield later runs into a German soldier - one so babyfaced he looks even younger than himself - and spares his life in exchange for keeping his presence a secret, the opportunity to humanize a German soldier by showing him frightened, and grateful, and letting him go, seems like a total given. Easy and inevitable for an anti-war film, right?

Wrong. The guy betrays him and rats him out immediately. And is killed by Schofield for his trouble. Because German soldiers, God forbid, can’t act like the terrified children they were, crying or vomiting or hesitating or begging for their lives like in 2022’s All Quiet - no, the only emotion burning in their breasts is passion for the Fatherland. (I haven’t seen German characterization this bad in my current WWI catalog outside of the Biggles movie. Do you seriously want the bar to be the Biggles movie?) Never mind that Schofield, an already-bitter character who just watched his friend die by sparing a German soldier, is somewhat unlikely to have even done this in the first place. We can’t show the hero doing something cruel - just like we can’t show him being racist toward the Sikh soldier in the van, or ragging on the Germans like the other white soldiers in the same. No, Schofield, the traumatized, cynical soldier surrounded by death - he must stay kind, and faultless, and pure in the face of that nasty Boche horde. Christ alive. I am mad at this movie.

Like, the war’s over, dude. It’s been over for a hundred years. Do you really still think that all Germans are evil? Is that propaganda poster of the gorilla with the Pickelhaube framed above your bed? Sure, yeah, there’s a brief scene where the leads traverse an old German bunker and find a photo of a soldier’s kids, but that’s not exactly enough of a balance to pat yourself on the back for giving your movie some Big Boy Nuance. That gorilla with the Pickelhaube probably had kids, too. Pickelhaube gorilla kids. I’m drifting from the point.

The point here is that showing Germans have kids they love is not enough, because you have shown that while our British heroes are capable of compassion for the other side of the war, the Germans are in possession of no such thing. Not only are they never shown being empathetic to the enemy, but every bit of empathy they receive from the enemy is repaid with violence, betrayal, and hatred. The British? They love everyone! The Germans? They loathe everyone save for their own! Sounds a bit like the creators mixed up their world wars in terms of ideology, eh? Not that that would have even been true of the average foot soldier in Nazi Germany, because of the apparently radical notion that Germans are human, but the application of this to a war that didn’t even have one Nazi in it only makes it even more infuriating and absurd.

On the subject of Nazis, not even the twist of the traitorous spared German is original to this movie. The same exact bullshit happens in Saving Private Ryan, where (spoiler alert) a German soldier in WWII spared from a cruel and unethical death by the compassion of a kindhearted poet “repays” his kindness by murdering his Jewish comrade later in the movie. And what do both of these movies convey as a result? Certainly not an anti-war message, for an anti-war message proves that war is needless and futile. How can your movie show war is needless, when Germans are depicted as ontologically evil - when kindness toward them is depicted as a flaw and a weakness? No amount of gore and sadness will fix that leak, because all you’ve told us now is that war is terrible, but completely necessary. That it’s just the awful burden our Good Righteous HeroesTM must bear to fight off the forces of evil. You know, Kantorek-from-All-Quiet shit. Do you really want to be spouting Kantorek-from-All-Quiet shit? Of course you don’t.

But do you not want to because of his ideology? Or do you just not want to because he’s German?

I wonder.

(P. S. This isn’t directly related to the movie, but it’s mentioned in the reception section on Wikipedia that this movie is historically inaccurate because it features some black British soldiers mixed in with all the rest - a demographic claimed to have been “negligible”. Now, I’m not a historian, but given that there was more than one black officer in the British military during the war (including a known former cricketer and an RFC pilot, among others), I think it’s probable that the section was full of shit. No documentation in the British Army existed on whether or not any given enlisted soldier was black, so there are no exact numbers to prove anything one way or another, but the existing handful of officers suggests the portion of black enlisted men was likely much higher than that. There may not have been a lot of black British soldiers in WWI, but there’s absolutely no way there were none at all. So like, good on 1917 for having black soldiers, at least. Wish they were in a less frustrating film.) (P. P. S. If you want to see a piece of Allied media do in a paragraph what this movie couldn’t do vis-a-vis Germans in a two-hour-plus runtime, I recommend playing the game Over the Top on the Canadian War Museum website. Yes, really. Check it out. It’s free, it’s not that long, and it’s worth it. The Dawn Patrol movies do a good job of humanizing Germans, too, and go out of their way to do so when they didn’t need to to serve the plot - and those were only made two decades or less after the actual war. If they could do it, why couldn’t 1917? Embarrassing.)

Edit: Having now watched Grand Illusion, I am even more mad at 1917. Grand Illusion, aside from the many other ways it humanizes both sides excellently (and doesn't shy away from flaws, either), has a section involving two French escaped prisoners being given shelter by a German war widow and her young daughter, and they spend a brief amount of time getting to be a sort of makeshift family despite it all. It brings to mind the only major plot detail of 1917 that I didn't mention in this review - Schofield encountering a frightened young woman and a baby while traveling through the burned-out shell of what he thought was an abandoned village. Upon seeing her, I remember thinking "Oh, thank God. A hiding German woman. This movie finally remembered Germans are in possession of souls. Perhaps, together, they can share some scrap of kindness, even as the war rages around them."

Nah. She's French. The baby isn't hers, either - she just found the baby and is looking after it. Because you know how the Jerries are - razing villages and endangering innocent women and children! It's just what they do! Never mind that Grand Illusion - which, like the aforementioned Dawn Patrol movies, also came out around twenty years after the First World War and right on the cusp of the Second - could acknowledge mutual humanity. That's just what the Germans want you to think.

Second edit: Apologies to come back to this, but truly the more WWI media I encounter, the more frustrated at 1917 I get. Journey's End, a play written by a WWI veteran that premiered in 1928, has nothing but sympathy for the German soldiers in the same miserable plight as the British ones. The final scene of Paths of Glory shows how the brutality of war has horrific effects on German civilians. Even Lawrence of Arabia, which decidedly does not show the Ottomans in a good light, portrays the real-life mistreatment and slaughter of Ottoman soldiers, prisoners, and civilians out of vengeance as a terrible thing. All of these were written around 50-90 years before 1917, and are capable of understanding that the enemy consists of complex human beings. Yet here comes 1917 in 2019, pushing rhetoric more in line with warmongers than those who suffered it.

[joshslater]

Cross Contamination

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I'm fucking furious. To most people Jack Wilson is a hockey hotshot, but to me he is just my wife's ex that can't let go. She said they had another encounter, but wouldn't go into details, saying it wasn't just his fault. She couldn't help herself, she said. Knowing how much she loathes him I suspect she was afraid of him turning violent. He is a star athlete after all, known to have punched more than a few players on the ice.

I know he's training at the stadium right now. That's how bad it has gotten, that I even know his schedule. I'm probably speeding getting there, but nothing else is important right now. I park the car in the huge, but almost empty parking. Neverending slabs of concrete to allow for the cars of thousands of cheering fans during game day. Well, I'm certainly not a fan. Still fuming as I exit the car and heading towards the arena I see him and a few others from his team running towards the same building from across the car park. They must be out for cardio or something. I stop and shout towards them "Hey! Jack!"

I can see them slow down a little, Jack saying something to them, and then breaking apart jogging in my direction while they continue at speed towards the stadium building. I remain still, just glaring at him as he closes in on me. He slows down quite a bit away and saunters towards me, still panting. He has an aura of smug superiority. He's good looking, despite his matted, sweaty hair and week-old beard. It's not just because he's in top shape, but he has that classic athlete chin cut, and mesmerizing eyes to go with it too. He's quite a bit shorter than me, and way denser and muscled, but I would bet my weekly martial arts practice can match him if needed. "Hey, cocksucker! You managed to find your way here," he yells back at me.

"I want you to know..." "Shut up"

I don't know why, but I can't look away from his intense eyes. It's like they can see into me, see every part of me. I'm frozen in place just watching him getting closer. "I said hey cocksucker. What are you waiting for? Go ahead and suck my cock." He says this as calmly as he can, never breaking eye contact. I don't think he blinks. I don't think I blink. I slowly go down on my knees,  grabbing the hem of his sweatpants, and pull down. I still keep eye contact, so I have to feel my way for the waistband of his underwear to pull it down too. I can feel the heat radiate from his steaming body. There's a smell of sweat, not the stale, musky kind, but from someone who showers every day and uses fresh clothes for each workout. He's professional and they got staff. I can hear his heavy breath as he is still recovering from the sprint. And I can feel a rather large cock in front of me that is erect, or at least a good way there. I grab it in my hands and guide the tip to my lips and begin to lick it. It doesn't really taste of much. I open my mouth and get more and more of his compression shirt wrapped abs and pecs in my view as I stare into his deep eyes, and take his big cock deeper and deeper into my mouth.

The tip reaches some point at the back of my mouth and I start to gag, making horrendous gurgling noises. I move back from him. "All the way. I want to be balls deep down your throat, cocksucker." I do as he commands, and push it in again, further. It's somehow much easier this time and my lips are tickled by his moist bush of pubes. I then start to work it, in and out, in and out. The noise I'm making is still horrendous. A wet, sloshy sound, and I hate it. "Yeah, you like that, cocksucker. Now, faster." I grab him by the hip and increase the pace. I get lost in the actions, like nothing matters but his cock, the noise, and his eyes.

I don't know for how long I was in a trance, but I feel him tensing up, pulling me tight to him, and shooting a big load of his cum down my throat. Suddenly the gaze that had held me like a vice breaks and he looks at my face rather than into my eyes. The spell is broken. I'm kneeling in a parking lot with Jack Wilson's cock down my throat, and my nose nuzzled into his pubes. His eyes suddenly widen, and his face turns into horror, like he is looking at a monster. Everything is going like in slow motion. I begin to push him away, to get his disgusting cock out of my mouth as he shoots his second load. Somehow in shock I manage to breathe in his cum. He pulls away from me as well, and his third load ends up just next to me on the concrete. "Fuck!" he says, visibly upset. "It's still in the bloodstream. Spit it out! Spit it out!"

I'm not sure I even have any in my mouth to spit out. It just went straight into my belly and into my lungs. Lungs that are desperately trying to cough up his spunky goo in phlegm-filled, deep whoops. "Fuck!" he shouts one last time, pulls up his sweatpants, and runs towards the Stadium building with one hand holding the pants up. I'm just folded over on my knees coughing and coughing while my mind is racing to make sense of what just happened. My chest is burning and I feel nauseated. There is the salty, bitter taste of cum in my mouth and a stench of athlete sweat as I gasp for air in between the coughs. I keep coughing, but less and less of substance is coming up. I spit out specks of Jack's spunk on the concrete in front of me, and realize what she had meant when she said she couldn't help herself. Did he fuck her? After what just happened I wouldn't put anything past Jack, and there is literally nothing I wouldn't forgive her for having done. She would have been helpless to stop.

I can feel my whole body burning as I get up from the concrete. I'm very aware how my clothes rubs against my body, like my senses have just gone into overdrive. Everything, every single muscle in my body feels sore. My head is spinning. Still coughing I stagger towards my car and get in behind the wheels. As I close the door the world goes silent. I can only hear my own exhausted panting. I'm confused about what is happening and feel sick as shit, but at least the world isn't spinning anymore. Somehow I must have been poisoned. What did he mean with "in the bloodstream?"

I start the car and carefully drive from the parking lot and out in the direction of home. Perhaps I shouldn't be driving at all. Crashing while driving is worse than crashing while sitting in a parking lot, but I really don't want to have to call anyone for help. Not after what I've just been through. I so sympathize with the movie cliché of a girl sobbing in the shower. I only want to cleanse myself in any way possible. To get rid of Jack from me. Even now I can feel the smell of athletic sweat, like it was clinging on to me.

There is a big pop accompanied by one of the chest buttons on my shirt shooting off in the car. The pop isn't so much heard as felt, as a reverberation in my body like someone just punched me in the chest, with dull spikes of pain in the joints. I swerve dangerously close to the side of the road. It feels like my shoulders pops into their sockets, like my chest just suddenly expands and the rest of my body catches up. There is no mirror I can look in, but I can clearly see something is off just by looking down at my body. What little movement I can make while driving the car feels different.

There is another big shift. Knees and hip joints this time, I think. I'm a little more prepared to handle that one without swerving, but this time I'm instead missing the brake pedal like the seat is set wrong. I scoot forward on the seat and reach the pedal. Now I'm getting real nervous what is happening. I'm almost home though, but I can feel my thigh muscles involuntarily flexing, my feet are hurting, and my stomach is gurgling like bad plumbing.

Her car is not home yet, thank God. I park mine as calmly as I can, screaming inside that I need to get inside and see what the fuck is going on. As I step out of the car I get a first inkling about the enormity of the changes. I almost trip stepping out of the car, and sit down again on the edge of the seat. The fabric on the trousers are straining, and I realize that my feet are probably hurting because they have swollen up inside the shoes. I try to kick off one of the sneakers, but it's stuck enough that I have to untie them. My movements feel off. It's not that it is hard to move. The opposite in fact, but different somehow. Me feet thanks me in relief as they are freed,

With the shoes off I awkwardly make my way into the house and step into the nearest bathroom. It's me in the mirror, of course, but me 5-10 years younger. I'm touching my face in disbelief. But this isn't just me regressed a decade in time. I was way taller than this then. Curious I unbutton the remaining buttons on my shirt and throw it on the floor. The chest and abs are not me 5-10 years ago. I've never looked this buff before. For one I've never had washboard abs, and the pecs and shoulders are wide and meaty. The arms more slender, though still muscular, and the core is built more for function than aesthetics. A bit too dense for the show off V shape. Dense, with a low center of gravity.

It's the body of a hockey player.

I rip off the straining trousers and the socks. Sure enough, massive leg muscles, big thighs, big ass, big feet. Jack the fucking cheater is a fraud in all areas. Whatever the fuck he is taking must have concentrated in his balls, shot into my lungs, and from there gone straight into my bloodstream to do whatever the fuck it's done to me. And there is nothing I can do to hurt him with it. Who would believe me? This is so far from any science I've heard of.

I take a closer look in the mirror again. Perhaps it isn't all bad after all.

[thatharringrovehoe]

So I've been playing Dishonored which is my favorite game and this popped into my head so now you all have to suffer with me. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧

He's so fucking cold. Like he’s been plunged into a lake mid winter and can’t find his way to the surface. Hands shaking, Billy sifts clumsily through the box of his mother’s things he keeps hidden in the back of his closet. He's found that if he thinks about the good times, picnics at the beach under the California sun, the thing oozing it's way though his brain losses just a bit of it's grip. Leaves Billy with enough motor function to stumble around his bedroom, trying to find the right pieces. And fucking hell it’s been so long since he's done this. He can remember helping his Ma when he was little, chubby fingers clenched tight in her cotton sundress as she arranged the items on the table just right. Pricked her finger to draw sigils in a language long forgotten, her voice a soft cadence through the bedroom as she hummed Billy’s favorite lullaby. No words, just a beautiful mournful thing. Humming a song of grieving loss. Billy doesn't know why he likes it so much.

“Remember baby. When you offer your gifts they have to be special. Well loved. Something that brings you joy every time you use it.”

His mother kept a pair of earrings on the cloth covered table. She never wore them when his father was home. Took them out and put them back on the little rickety stand in the back of her closet every day before he came back from work. Dangling silver daggers with the onyx beads. Billy shoved one straight through his left earlobe when he turned fifteen and has barely taken it out since.

His Ma told him that everything he built his shrine with had to mean something. Had to be something he treasured. From the fabric to the stand itself. So Billy tried his best. Draped his best leather jacket over the milk crate that held all of his favorite hair products. Placed his Ma's Fleetwood Mac album next to one of his mother's silver earrings (the one he always wears), arranged as neatly as he can manage. He’d had to prick his thumb seven times because to his dawning horror it kept healing over. Just another tally mark towards something being really fucking wrong. And he remembers the warehouse. Can still feel the slimy caustic sludge being pumped down his throat by a fucking tentacle. But he’d hoped it had been a dream, a nightmare from reading to many Lovecraft novels. Billy curses as he slices open his thumb for what feels like the millionth time.

Apparently not.

He's drawn the characters just how he remembers. His mother had made him practice every day, showing him each and every shape and line, drawn in colorful crayon. She gave him a cookie every time he got them right. Never hung them up on the fridge though. Didn't want his father to see.

He can feel the shadow creeping through his blood, dragging it’s claws against his veins. It might not know exactly what he’s doing yet, but it must be able to feel the intention. Billy thinks of ocean waves and a soft hand running through his curls. Fights the pull at the back of his mind to just give in. To sleep. His hands shake harder.

Fuck, where is it?! Billy combs through records and trinkets, a bottle of her perfume. He’s desperately hoping it didn't get lost in the move because his mother never taught him how to make one. Hell, he's pretty certain that he wouldn't be able to find the pieces he needs in Hawkins anyway. Not like Melvalds has a supernatural voodoo isle.

Then finally, finally he finds it. Lifting up his mother’s satin scarf it comes tumbling out to land on the floor with a clatter. Bleached white and beaten smooth by the waves, it's about the size of a sand dollar. Billy picks it up, places it in the palm of his hand. He still remembers the day he found it out on the shore. Washed up between some sea glass, the leather bindings still somehow soft even soaked with salt water. Etched with symbols and shapes Billy will never understand. When Billy showed it to his mother an unreadable expression crossed her face. It was that evening she showed him her shrine.

The rune seems to hum against his skin, an otherworldly song from far away ghosting past his ears. The thing that’s trying to Shanghai Billy’s brain writhes. It's angry, but more than that it’s fucking terrified and Billy has never been more sure of anything in his life. This was a good idea. But his limbs are getting colder, heavier. Whatever this evil piece of shit is it doesn’t like what Billy’s doing. He has to fight against the deadening of his limbs, crawling towards his shitty attempt at a shrine from his place on the floor. His vision is starting to grow dark when he finally clutches on to the milk crate, placing the rune between the earring and his cassette tape. And he knows that there's no guarantee. That whatever his Ma prayed to every night never shielded her from Neil’s fists, didn’t do a damn thing as the cancer slowly drained her down to nothing. That sometimes (most times) when someone would call out to the void the only thing they heard in return was their own disappointment. But he's got no other options. This is his trump card. His last resort. If this hocus pocus bullshit doesn’t work then Billy is up shit creek without a paddle. With a frustrated shout against the nightmare pulling him in, Billy begs.

“Please! Fuck, help me! I'll do anything, c’mon just- please!”

The air in Billy’s bedroom all of a sudden seems to shudder. The shadows flicker and meld together, reaching outwards. The sound of dry fall leaves blowing in the wind, a wail of a thousand dying worlds ricochets off the walls. Then nothing. Billy scrunches his eyes shut against the sting of tears. Fuck, of course it didn’t work. Story of his life. He called for help and just like always it doesn't mean shit. No one is coming to save him.

“Well well well. Certainly been a long time since someone summoned me like that. Very old school.”

Billy’s eyes snap open, the surprise and adrenaline enough to fight the heaving weight of his limbs to raise his head. And there, perched on his shitty milk crate shrine, sits the most beautiful boy he's ever seen. He's got hair the color of soil after it rains. High cheekbones and full lips, milky white skin dotted with a constellation of beauty marks. Billy didn't know what he expected but it certainly wasn't this. The boy god is dressed in a swanky leather coat the color of charcoal with pants to match. Eyes like an oil spill, inky black and endless. With a good look at Billy, they narrow dangerously.

“I thought I fucking told you not to touch this world. You want a repeat of last time?”

Whatever deity he summoned looks pissed as hell. Did he not do it right? Maybe the items weren’t good enough. That would be just his luck. He's so confused he almost doesn’t notice it right away. The shadow slowly working it’s way through his body has stopped, retreated a little even.

“I-... I don't know what you’re talking about. Please, there's something wrong with me. Something got put inside of me and I need it out. Please, help me.”

Billy hasn’t begged since his Ma was takin her last breath in that damn hospice bed. Didn't see the point when it always got you nowhere. But now he can't make himself stop. Cuz he's never been this scared before. The things this monster inside him wants him to do. It's so strong, like he’s fighting a steam roller. He's got no hope on his own.

The boy sitting on his best leather jacket stills. Cocks his head to the side slightly, considering. Then those pretty pink lips are spreading out into a gleeful smirk. Slides off the shrine to settle on his knees in front of Billy. Reaches out his hand to cup Billy’s jaw gentle enough it makes him want to cry.

“You can't get a good enough hold of this one can you? Interesting. Tell me trouble maker, what's your name?”

That voice, deep and ethereal, seems to echo from all around him. He can feel it vibrate in his bones. He wants, no, needs to answer.

“Billy. Billy Hargrove.”

The boy smiles now, all gleaming pearly whites. If Billy looks long enough reality starts to flicker. And for just a second all he can see is teeth sharp like knives in a Cheshire grin. There for a moment and gone in a flash. The hand on his jaw tightens just the slightest fraction.

“Well Billy Hargrove. You seem to find yourself in quite the predicament. That parasite sucking on your soul is an old acquaintance of mine. He's one nasty little shit.”

If a brain washing shadow monster could feel indignant he’s pretty sure that’s what's happening now. Whatever was hijacking Billy's mind has curled up somewhere tight, sunk it’s teeth in deep. Cornered like a threatened animal.

“Please, I’ll do anything you want. I can’t… I can’t fight it. It's too much.”

There’s enough tears leakin down his face that it's soaking the front of his shirt. The boy is giving him this look, almost amused. The longer he holds Billy’s jaw the more the monster losses his grip, and Billy is ready to do anything at this point. Because that thing stuck to his brain wants him to find people. Feed it people. Wants Billy to drink all the chemicals in the supply shed at the pool. Told Billy that if he tried to fight it would take Max first and he can't let that happen.

The boy seems to come to a decision, grabs Billy’s hands to help him shakily to this feet. He doesn’t let go even when they’re both standing.

“You know there’s not many who can fight his hold for this long. I'm impressed.”

He steps forward until his chest is practically pressed up against Billy's. He smells like ozone and smoke, bottomless black eyes trained on stormy blue. Reaches up to tangle his fingers into Billy’s curls, sending tingles across his scalp. Smiles wider at the small noise that escapes Billy's throat.

“I'll help you Billy Hargrove. But in return, you have to do something for me.”

Billy's nodding before he can even really register what’s being said. Anything. He'd do whatever this pretty boy asked as long as he keeps touching Billy like this. Gentle, with a reverence no one has ever bothered to show.

“I need you to kick this little shit back into the hole he crawled out of. Can you do that for me Billy? I wanna see how your story pans out trouble maker. Wanna see what you do when someone gives you a chance.”

Billy nods again, breathless. The boy chuckles, the sound saccharine. Like warm honey dripping down his spine.

“Gunna have to use your words baby.”

Billy swallows, the click of his dry throat loud in the warm personal bubble they’ve created.

“Yes. Yeah. I’ll do it. Whatever you want pretty boy, please.”

It comes out a whisper but the boy hears it all the same. The boy smiles bright, pulls Billy forward. Soft warm lips press against his own and Billy is floating. He's never been kissed like this before. Slow and deep, the boy's tongue pressing in to curl and slide. Stuff him full. Billy's shaking for a whole other reason now. Reaches out to grip the boy's coat, cool to the touch where Billy is burning. Fire rushing through his veins, and he's already so close just from this. Whimpers brokenly into the kiss.

The boy pulls him in impossibly closer, slots his thigh between Billy’s legs, pushes up up up. And Billy is right fucking there, grinds down as he swaps spit with an old god in his shitty bedroom with the peeling yellow paint and the door that locks from the outside. Can feel the tell tale tingle spreading behind his navel.

“ ‘m gunna cum! Fuck, more please!” Billy mumbles curses into the kiss, breath hitching as his balls draw tight. The boy smiles against his mouth, yanks his curls back to bite into the meat of his neck and Billy’s gone, pulsing rope after rope of cum into his underwear.

“Oh my- .. Fuuuuuck. Yes! Uhhhnn!” He's panting like a dog as he slumps forward into the boys shoulder. Gentle fingers card through his hair as aftershocks zap up and down his body. A kiss is pressed behind his ear, a soft warmth flooding his core. He can't feel the shadow anywhere.

“So good for me sweet thing. Makes me want to keep you.”

It's said so quiet, like the boy doesn’t intend for it to be heard. Billy presses his face into his neck. There's no heartbeat under the boy's skin.

“You could. I want you to.” Whoever this is, whatever he is, he came for Billy. Answered his literal cry for help when no one else did. He doesn't know what he has to offer but he wants to give this impossible boy everything.

The boy in question hums. Brings Billy's left hand up to kiss the back of it. His skin feels hot under his lips, bordering on uncomfortable. Like stepping on sun scorched pavement. When the boy pulls back there’s a tattoo on his hand. A strange design that looks vaguely like a compass. It's the same mark as the one on the middle of the rune sitting behind them.

“I haven't given my mark to someone quite so special in a while. Try not to disappoint me Billy Hargrove.”

The boy goes to pull away but Billy still has his hand clenched tight on his coat. Panic wells up in his chest. Doesn't want to end whatever this is quite yet.

“Wait! What’s-…what's your name?” Which is a valid question he thinks. And probably one he should have asked at some point before he started grinding his dick on the guys leg. Oh well.

“I've had many names, none if which would hold any significance for you. Call me what you want trouble maker. I'll be there when you need me.”

Billy believes him. Then between one blink and the next the boy is gone, tendrils of dissipating smoke the only evidence he was ever there. A deep voice whispers from nowhere and everywhere.

“Ask your sister about the monsters in the woods.”

On the shrine the only thing that remains is the rune, both his gifts having apparently been accepted. Billy gives a hysterical bark of laughter at the thought of some higher being listening to Fleetwood Mac somewhere out in the void. It gives him an idea. He drags his lips across the fresh mark on his hand, mumbles into his skin.

“Thanks Stevie.”

[idreamofplaid]

The Only Thing That’s Real

Square Filled: Fix It Fic

Characters: Sam x witch!Reader; Dean; Lucifer

Word Count: 8802

Summary: The reader falls in love with Sam during his darkest time, and she’s willing to do anything to help him.

Warnings: Non Con (discussed not depicted); heavy angst

A/N: This is for @girl-next-door-writes Make Me Feel Bingo. It’s early Season 7 Sam during the time he’s hallucinating Lucifer. It is the longest one shot I’ve ever written, but it didn’t feel right to break it into smaller pieces.

Thanks to @petitgateau911 for being my beta and @thinkinghardhardlythinking for the conversations about Sam and what would be true to his character. Hugs to you both.

The motel wasn’t much; the places Dean stayed never were. His car was another story. It was impressive, and when you saw it parked outside this latest no star establishment, you knew you were in the right place.

You parked in the space next to the Impala, made your way to room 16, and knocked lightly on the green door with the peeling paint. Dean was expecting you. He answered quickly and stepped outside closing the door behind him.

He hugged you and held on a beat longer than he usually would. When he let go, you scanned his face looking for some clue about the situation but couldn’t get a solid read on him. He knew what you were doing, acknowledged your look with a nod, and said, “Thanks for coming.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t? Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” You shifted the bag on your shoulder. “I’ve never seen you like this.” That worried you because you had seen and heard a lot when it came to Dean. Usually, he called on you in need of your witch skills. You’d always had just the right spell for him, but your instinct told you this situation was something else.

Dean’s eyes clouded over for a second. “Sam’s not doin’ so good. He... needs somebody to watch him.” Dean dragged his fingers down his cheek. “He doesn’t know what’s real, Y/N.”

You tried to mask your reaction from Dean. Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t this; this was bad. “I see.” You eyed the door behind Dean, imagining what you’d find behind it. 

Dean blew out a breath. “I shouldn’t have asked you to come here. This is too much to ask you to deal with.”

You put your hand on Dean’s arm to settle him. “You called me because just maybe I can help. At the very least, I can make sure he’s not alone and give you a chance to take care of what you need to.” With a little pat, you let your hand drop from Dean’s arm. “Why don’t you give me the short version of what’s happening and then introduce me to this little brother you’ve been hiding?”

The story Dean told was horrifying. Sam had been locked in a cage with the devil in hell. “He has nightmares, Y/N. All the time. He’s been having them ever since his memories of hell came back to him. The things he says in his sleep make my blood run cold.” Dean made a fist, rested his chin on it, and closed his eyes. 

You moved closer and put your arm around him. “I know this is hard for you, Dean.” He dropped his fist and started shaking his head.

“He’s my little brother. I’m supposed to take care of him, and I can’t help him.” Dean took a couple of steps away from you so your arm was no longer around him. You knew Dean well enough to know he felt like he didn’t deserve the comfort because in his mind he’d failed his brother.

“Dean, you are doing everything you can; you always have.” He bent his head back, looked at the sky, let out a deep breath, and then let it fall forward again until his chin was almost touching his chest.

“Y/N, I’m starting to believe things happened to him that the demons torturing me when I was in hell only threatened to do. Just remembering the threat of it kept me awake at night for years after I got out. Now, he’s seeing things. Seeing Lucifer. And Lucifer taunts him, reminds of him of what he did and tells him he’s going to do it again.”

Dean started to pace. “Sam gets this terrified look in his eyes sometimes, and I know he’s seeing Lucifer, hearing him. Sam begs him not to do it again, and he talks about how cold it is inside. He’s afraid of the cold.” Dean chewed at his lip, and looked for a minute like he might start crying. 

“They tear you apart in hell, piece by piece, then put you back together to do it again. It hurts more than there are even words to describe. They mess with your mind. That’s worse than the physical pain. They make you believe all kinds of shit that isn’t real. But I think Lucifer did something to Sam even worse than all that.”

You closed the distance between the two of you and put your hand on Dean’s arm again. “What do you think happened to Sam?”

Dean shook his head harder than he had before. “No. I can’t. I can’t say it out loud. I don’t want to.” 

“Okay, Dean. You don’t have to say it.” You tried to calm him with your voice, but it was having little effect. This was bad for both of them. You felt your stomach drop, knowing how they both had suffered. No one should hurt like that. “How about you introduce me to Sam now? Let me see him.”

Dean gave you a silent nod then turned and opened the door. You followed him into the mostly darkened room. What you saw in that room caused your heart to leap up into your throat; the sight in front of you created an emptiness in the center of your being and fanned to life a dormant flame inside you. Dean’s brother was sitting on the edge of the bed, head and shoulders slumped over. He was powerfully built, taller and with wider shoulders than even Dean’s. His hair was falling over those shoulders and his face. You held your breath for a second or two. You could sense his soul, felt connected to him and the pain he was bravely trying to manage. This man was beautiful, and he was broken.

Dean closed the door behind you and said, “Sammy, there’s somebody I want you to meet.” Sam slowly raised his head. His eyes were haunted, the horrors he held in his mind reflected there. When he saw you, he tried to sit up a little straighter. “Sam, this is Y/N. She’s an old friend of mine.”

Sam attempted a smile. “Hi. Did Dean ask you to come babysit me?” There was nothing bitter or angry in his question. 

You weren’t sure how to best answer him, deciding to go with at least part of the truth. “That’s not exactly how he put it. He said you weren’t feeling so good, and you know how Dean worries; he didn’t want to leave you alone. All these years I’ve known him, you’ve been the mysterious brother I’ve never met. I wanted to change that.” 

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

The first night passed without incident. You’d taken a chance and brought along a chessboard, thinking maybe Sam and his Ivy League mind might like the game. It was a good move; it gave you both something to focus on other than the awkward situation you were in together.

Sam was nothing like Dean, but he had his own kind of charm. He could carry on a conversation in a way that made you feel like you were the most interesting person in the world, and he could talk about any number of things. The two of you discussed everything from favorite childhood books to Spanish architecture, and the conversation was easy.

It was almost impossible, while at the same time nearly natural, to imagine Sam as a hunter. Dean got a certain thrill and satisfaction from hunting. You didn’t sense any of that in Sam, but he certainly had the mind to put the pieces of a puzzle together and solve a case. The way he was built he could take on any monster, and you couldn’t help but notice his eyes were beautiful. They were a mosaic of green, gold, and amber. You could have easily indulged in staring at them endlessly; you appreciated and were drawn to the depth you saw in those eyes. 

You passed a comfortable evening together, and when it was time for bed; Sam took the first turn in the bathroom. That left you alone for a few minutes to gather your thoughts. So far things were going well, but you knew that could change in an instant. You centered and grounded yourself, then cast a quick protection spell over the room. It wouldn’t be long before you would find out that nothing could protect Sam from his own mind. 

Sam slept peacefully in one of the double beds and you in the other until the first faint light of the sunrise began to filter through the golden orange curtains casting a tinted light over the room. That’s when Sam started to yell and plead. “No. No. Not again. Please.”

The pitiful sounds he was making tore you from your sleep, and you went to him. “Sam. Sam.” When calling his name didn’t work, you lightly touched his shoulder. He bolted awake and grabbed your wrist, wrapping his huge hand around it. You knew he could break your wrist, but you didn’t feel the slightest twinge of fear. It was something else entirely you were feeling. You wanted to protect him from whatever it was that was tormenting him and take away his tremendous pain.

You tried speaking to him softly. “Sam, it’s okay. Nothing can hurt you here. It’s alright.”

He looked at you with wide and confused eyes. “Y/N?” Sam looked down at his hand that was still grasping your wrist. He let go. “I’m...I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” He sounded ashamed of what he’d done.

“No, Sam. You didn’t hurt me. I’m fine.” You wiggled your fingers and swiveled your wrist. “See? Everything still works.” He watched your motions, and they appeared to reassure him a little. Sam pushed himself up into a sitting position with his back against the headboard. 

He ran his fingers through his hair and scanned the room. He still seemed a little disoriented. “What...what did I do?” He looked to you for the answer. 

You wanted to put your hand on him again, soothe him with your touch, but now that he was awake; you didn’t do that. You tried to comfort him with the tone of your voice instead. “You were talking in your sleep. It sounded like...like someone was hurting you. Do you want to talk about it, Sam?”

He gave a slight shake of his head. “No. It’s...I’m okay.”

Two days later, Dean still wasn’t back. He texted everyday to check in, and you replied back with a confidence you didn’t feel that you had everything under control. Sam had slept fitfully both nights, but nothing else had happened as bad as that first morning until Sam completely cracked in front of you. 

You were playing a game of chess, and as near as you could tell, Sam was about three moves away from claiming your king when he jumped out of his chair to stand in front of you. His arms were outstretched in a protective gesture, blocking something that wasn’t there from getting to you, and he was talking to the empty space. “Stay away from her. Don’t you dare try to touch her.”

You stood up behind him. “Sam?”

He reached back and circled one of his arms around your waist and pulled you close against his back. “I won’t let him near you, Y/N. I promise. I WILL NOT let him hurt you.”

“Who, Sam? Who do you think is going to hurt me?” You reached for his shoulder, as you had during that first nightmare, and lay your hand on it trying to bring him back to reality again. 

Sam’s voice took on a hard steel edge. “It’s Lucifer. He thinks he can do to you what he did to me, but I will NEVER let that happen.” Then Sam started to talk to the empty air, his voice full of conviction. “You can do anything you want to me. You already have. Drag me back to hell and do it all again, but you won’t get to her. I. Won’t. Let. You.”

You started to rub the back of Sam’s shoulder. “Sam, there’s no one there.”

“Y/N, get back!” He started walking backwards, pushing you along behind him until you hit the wall. Then Sam turned and wrapped his arms around you, shielding you with his body. 

He was pressed firmly against you, and it took some effort to push him back far enough to get your hands on each side of his face. “Sam, look at me.” You positioned his face so he was looking directly into your eyes. “Look in my eyes.” You saw the instant his hazel eyes focused on you. “That’s it, Sam. We’re fine. No one’s here. Just us.”

Sam took a couple of steps back; he looked around the room, and then he slowly backed all the way to the bed and sat down. His eyes met yours, and he swallowed hard before he said anything. “I’m sorry.” His words were soft and tortured; you couldn’t keep your distance from him. You joined him on the bed, sitting so close that your leg almost touched his.

You put your hand on his cheek again, much more softly this time, knowing full well that he knew where he was and realized what you were doing. “Sam, you don’t need to apologize to me. You haven’t done anything wrong. Tell me what you see. Tell me what’s going on in your mind.”

Sam’s eyes searched yours, like he was trying to determine how much he could tell you. He reached his decision, and he let you in.  “He taunts me. Reminds me of everything he did to me when I was in hell.” Sam took a long pause and shifted his eyes away from yours. You lowered your hand and put it over his. He rotated his hand so he could close his fingers over yours. Now, he had something to hold onto.

“He says he’s going to do it all again. Says he loves the way I try to hold out, makes it more satisfying when I scream.” Sam shuddered. You rubbed your fingers gently over the back of his hand, hoping it gave him some comfort. Sam closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he said in a strained voice, “He tells me I’m still in hell; I’m with him. He lets me believe you’re real to make it worse when he takes you away.” Tears were shining in his eyes, threatening to fall.

You tightened your fingers around his. “I’m real, Sam. I’m here with you. No one else. Just me.” Slowly, you let go of his hand so you could comb your fingers through his hair, brushing it back from his face. “I’m the only thing that’s real, Sam. He closed his eyes again, tighter this time than the first and nodded. You put your arms around him and hugged him close. “Do you feel that, Sam? It’s real. You’re safe.”

Sam turned toward you and wrapped his arms around you. He was struggling to steady his breath. “Tell me again that you’re here.”

You slipped your fingers into his hair and held the back of his head. “I am, Sam. I’m here.”

That night you slept in the same bed; Sam held you, and he slept without nightmares or hallucinations. You listened to him breathe, felt the warmth of his body next to your back, and the feelings you had for him grew deeper and took root in your soul. You whispered into the darkened room, “You’re not alone, Sam. You never will be.”

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

Your life went back to normal when you went back home, but it was forever changed. You couldn’t get the image of a tall, handsome, and troubled hunter out of your mind. At night, you lay awake in bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering if Sam could sleep. It was one of those sleepless nights that you finally threw back the covers and got out of bed intent upon doing something to answer the questions that kept spinning through your head. 

You took your scrying bowl from the cabinet where you stored it and filled it with water. Your altar was still set up from your last ritual; the candles were still there as well as a place for the bowl. You placed the bowl on the altar and lit the candles surrounding it. The water caught the light from the candles and reflected it up to you. You concentrated on the light and let your vision go hazy. 

A vision of Sam appeared on the water. His palms were pressed against both sides of his head. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, the way you had seen them in person, and Dean was standing next to him. He was saying something to Sam that you couldn’t make out, but Sam dropped his hands and opened his eyes. They were wide open now and filled with fear. He backed away from his brother, clearly scared and trying to get away from something that was terrifying him.

The image of Sam disappeared, and you sat on the floor in front of your altar stunned. You wrapped your arms around your body and hugged yourself. What had you thought you would see? You’d seen the condition he was in for yourself, and it hadn’t just mercifully disappeared. For the rest of the night, you didn’t move from that spot. You sat there in the dark and watched the candles burn down.

By the time morning came, you were exhausted. Fortunately, you had been your own boss since you left the graphic design company you worked for two years ago and gone freelance, but you still had clients and work to do. With that in mind, you were making a strong pot of coffee in the hope it would keep you awake enough to deliver the designs you’d promised. 

Your plan was good, but it wasn’t working. You were distracted and preoccupied. For the third time since the sun came up, you picked up your cell phone with the intention of calling, or at least texting, Dean. What were you going to say? I can’t get your brother out of my mind since I managed to fall in love with him after spending three days with him. Or maybe, I saw him in a bowl of water last night, and I’m worried about him. No, you couldn’t do that. It didn’t matter how much you felt otherwise; your life was not actually connected to Sam’s. Dammit. You put your phone down on the counter with a thud, and snatched open a cabinet to get a mug. 

You had work to do, bills had to be paid. With that in mind, you grabbed the coffee pot and started to fill your mug. The memory of Sam’s hazel eyes flooded your mind; you didn’t stop pouring when you should have, and your cup overflowed, creating a huge mess. You mopped up the spilled coffee and threw the dish towel into the sink with a frustrated sigh.

As it turned out, you didn’t have to pretend to be productive for very long because by mid morning Dean was calling you. As soon as you saw his name on your caller ID, your heart started to pound. You snatched up the phone. “Dean?” Maybe he heard the panic in your voice, maybe he didn’t because he had worries of his own.

“Y/N, I’m really sorry to bother you again.” You wanted to interrupt him, wanted to blurt out all your questions about Sam, but you didn’t, even though Dean was taking way too long to get to the point in your opinion. “Do you think you could spare some time away again? I wouldn’t ask, but Sam...he’s getting worse. I’m afraid he might hurt himself, Y/N, because he can’t take it anymore. He’s getting more lost in his head, and...he’s asking for you.”

“Asking for me?” You sat down, and your already fast beating heart started to beat a little faster. 

You heard Dean sigh over the phone. “Yeah. Whenever he’s out of it, sometimes he thinks you’re here. Then when he realizes you aren’t, he gets upset.” Another sigh. “I don’t know what else to do, Y/N.”

Dean might not know, but you did. “I’ll come. Where are you?”

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

Bobby was another person Dean had mentioned over the years. He’d never said much about his house though, and it was a sight to behold. Once you got past the yard and more junk cars than you had ever seen, the inside was also remarkable. Here, you found more books than you had ever seen outside a library. Practically every surface was covered with them. 

Dean gave you a bit of a tour of the place while he updated you on Sam. “I don’t think he’s sleeping anymore. We’ve been in some tight spots, but this has me knocked on my ass.” For Dean to be admitting anything of the kind was a rare occurrence, and it scared you. The final stop on the tour was an upstairs bedroom at the end of the hall where Sam was staying. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, much as he had been the first time you ever saw him. Only now, there were dark circles under his pain filled eyes, and it was clear what Dean had said was true. Sam had barely slept in a long time, if at all.

He was hugging himself just like you had on the floor in front of your altar, and he smiled when he saw you. You crossed the room, sat beside him, and gave him a lingering hug. When you parted, Sam’s smile got bigger. “Y/N, you’re here.”

You returned his smile. “Yeah, I’m here. It’s gonna be okay now.” 

 Dean was still standing in the doorway, but you had forgotten him until he spoke. “I’m just gonna go.” You turned to acknowledge what he’d said, and he was staring intently at you and his brother. His gaze travelled from you to Sam and back. He tilted his head in your direction then left, closing the door behind him. 

All of your attention went back to Sam. “When was the last time you slept?”

He was slow in answering you, but once more he let you in. “It’s been a day or two; I don’t know exactly. Time is kinda running together.” You noticed the bed you were sitting on was neatly made. Had he even tried to sleep recently, or had he just given up? 

You rubbed your hand up and down his arm to soothe him, and you felt some of the tension leave his body at your touch. You did this for a few minutes then told him, “Sam, I’m going to go make you some tea. I think it will help you sleep.” You’d come prepared, bringing some herbs with you that might help him.

Sam reached for your hand as you started to stand. “Don’t go yet. Stay here with me.”

You lowered yourself back to the bed. “Okay, but I want you to try to rest.” You fluffled the pillows and said to him, “Lie back.” Sam hesitated. You kneeled in front of him and took both his hands in yours. “Do you see him now, Sam?”

His eyes darted to the corner of the room. “Yeah. He doesn’t go away. That’s why I can’t sleep. He won’t let me.” There was a lump in your throat, but you weren’t going to cry. That wasn’t what Sam needed right now. 

“Well, I’m not going away either. I’m going to lie down with you, and I’m going to stay next to you. Alright?” 

Sam was looking at your hands joined together. “Okay. I just want you with me.”

You settled back on the pillows with Sam and guided his head down to your shoulder. You slipped your fingers through his hair over and over, resisting the urge to kiss his head. “Try to close your eyes. I won’t let anything happen to you, Sam.” 

After several minutes of lying there in the quiet stroking Sam’s hair, you shifted to take your phone out of your pocket. Sam sat up quickly, jolted out of the peace you’d given him. “Don’t go, Y/N.” There was no fear in his eyes now. It had been replaced by an empty resignation, and that was worse. 

You cupped his cheek in your hand. “I told you I wouldn’t go, Sam. I’m not.” You held up your phone so he could see it. “I’m just going to text Dean and ask him to bring me what I need to make the tea.” You could see Sam thinking, then he put his head back on your shoulder and draped his arm over your waist to hold you close. 

Moving as little as possible, you typed out your text to Dean. Bring me the herbs I put in the kitchen,  a pot of hot water, and a teacup. 

In a few minutes, there was a knock at the door. This time, you told Sam before you moved. “I’m going to go answer the door. I’ll be right back.”

Dean was standing on the other side, holding a tray filled with everything you’d asked him to bring. You put your hands on the tray to take it from him, and Dean whispered, “How is he?”

“He’s quiet, but it isn’t good.” You had been rolling an idea around in your head, debating if you should do it. Acknowledging Sam was in bad shape out loud helped you make up your mind. “Dean, I want you to see if Bobby has a book on Medieval Italian witchcraft, ideally a grimoire. If he does, bring it to me.” 

He glanced past you to get a look at Sam. “Are you going to do a spell?” 

Saying it was a spell was a bit of an understatement. “I’m going to help him, Dean. Find that book.”

You returned to Sam and put the tray down on the bedside table. You opened the large plastic bag filled with smaller bags of herbs and selected the ones you wanted. You sprinkled some of each herb in the cup then poured hot water over them. Sam was watching you. The look on his face told you he was more interested in making sure you didn’t disappear than in what you were doing. 

The tea steeped for a couple of minutes, then you gave it to Sam. He wrapped both his hands around the cup and asked, “What is it?”

You sat down next to him on the bed. “It’s something to quiet your mind so you can sleep.”

Sam took a sip from the cup that looked so tiny in his hands. “I’m lucky I know a witch like you.” Then he took another bigger drink.

He knew what you were. Had Dean talked about you over the years the same way he’d talked about Sam, or had Sam figured it out on his own? Had Dean told him that you were a hereditary witch with a lineage that dated back five generations? That made you powerful, and you had never been more thankful for that than right now. “Did Dean tell you?”

Sam drank some more. His voice was sounding a little stronger. “I knew he consulted a witch on some of our cases, and it looks like you know your herbs. It’s you that he went to.”

“Does that change your opinion of me? Dean isn’t very fond of witches in general.” You were nervous waiting for his answer in spite of your strong intuition backed by five generations that told you not to be.

“I’m not my brother.” His eyes met yours and something passed silently between you.

You took the now empty cup from him. “I noticed,” you answered softly.

He reached for your arm, and you felt a warmth spread through your body when he touched you. “You have a talent, Y/N. You’ve helped people; you’re helping me.”

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

It was getting late into the night when you heard a soft knock at the door. You checked Sam before you got up. He was still sleeping. Dean had found exactly what you were hoping he’d find. It was a grimoire, and it looked old. He held it out to you. “You read Italian?”

You took the book from him. “As a matter of fact I do.” Your grandmother had taught you the family tradition of Italian witchcraft and learning the language was part of your training.

“Bobby says that’s not modern Italian,” Dean said, explaining his doubt that you could translate it.

“I can still read it.” Your grandmother had been thorough in her lessons.

Dean noticed his brother sleeping, and a smile turned up the corners of his mouth. He looked back to you and down at the book. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

You ignored him and proceeded with your next request. “Will you stay with him while I take a shower and get ready for bed?”

“You’re staying in here tonight?” Dean was trying to figure out exactly what kind of relationship you had with his brother. 

“Yes, I told him I wouldn’t leave him.” You looked over your shoulder at Sam and clutched the book you were holding a little tighter. It had to have the answer you needed in it.

You turned back to Dean, and his eyes locked on yours. “Thank you, Y/N.”

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

You stayed up half the night reading the grimoire, searching for a spell that you were beginning to fear was only a legend, a story your grandmother told you when you were a girl just like she’d told you the story of Cinderella. Maybe it was just another romantic story. She had told you about a spell that had the power to cure anything. It had been created by a witch during the time of the great plague to save the man she loved. Your grandmother had made you the woman you were, the one who would do anything to save Sam. You could still hear her voice echoing in your head. “There is no greater power than love. It can protect. It can transform. It can heal.”

You were almost to the end of the grimoire and losing hope when you reached a page titled “Restoration”. Excitement began to bubble up inside you when you read the description. This was it. The list of ingredients was surprisingly simple; you’d brought everything you would need with you in your collection of herbs. All you needed to do was add a little sugar from Bobby’s kitchen. You read the directions for casting the spell, took a deep breath, and read them again to make sure you’d understood correctly. Your grandmother never told you that part.

All that is required to the diminish the ailment of your lover is your love. During the act of sexual union, focus your intention. Whatever afflicts him will be diminished by half of its force being transferred to you. If the gods have smiled upon you, he will return your love. And, should he love you in return, the affliction will be not only diminished but abolished altogether.

The weight of the words settled over you. You looked at Sam; he was still sleeping beside you undisturbed. If you took half of his mental anguish, he could at least function. He would no longer be living on the brink of a total breakdown, that should it come, might take him from you forever. You traced the line of his jaw with your fingertip; he didn’t stir. Did you love him enough to see the devil? Yes.

You made your way down to the kitchen, careful not to turn on any lights and alert anyone to your movements. Everything you needed was there as you had expected it to be. You crushed up the needed herbs, added the sugar, put it all in some water, and drank the potion. You would gladly sacrifice yourself for Sam, and you would be ready at the right time. You made a silent plea to the goddess that the right time would come soon.

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

You managed to get a couple hours of sleep before you woke and discovered Sam was no longer in bed next to you. You ran for the door and almost collided into Sam coming back into the room. He was dressed in a blue and white plaid shirt, and the emptiness was gone from his eyes. His smile was so big it deepened his dimples and made him so handsome you almost couldn’t breathe. “Hey, Y/N. You want to get some breakfast?”

“Sam, are you…?” The light in his eyes was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

He moved closer to you, so close he was only inches away. “I’m okay. For the first time, in a very long time, I feel okay.” His eyes lingered on yours, then he cupped your cheek in his hand and for several seconds you were lost in the depths of his eyes, a place you would gladly stay forever. Then Sam touched his lips to yours, and it was the softest kiss anyone had ever given you in your life. 

He pulled away, but not too far. He was still holding your face in his hands and looking into your eyes. “Kiss me again, Sam.” You parted your lips when his mouth touched yours, and he accepted the invitation. Sam’s tongue circled around yours, exploring your mouth and discovering the way you taste. You put your arms around him, wanting to hold onto him and the moment. When he felt your arms go around him, Sam deepened the kiss. 

You were nearly breathless when the kiss ended. Sam took your hand in his. “Come downstairs with me? We can have our first breakfast together.” It wasn’t lost on you that he’d said “first”. 

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

In all the time you’d known him, you never knew Dean had such a way with eggs. You caught him looking at Sam and you throughout breakfast. When you got up to take your plate to the sink, Dean saw his opportunity and followed you. “What did you do? He hasn’t been out of that room in days.”

“I gave him some tea to clear his mind, and I stayed with him.” You stacked the dishes in the sink to give your hands something to do, very conscious of Dean closely scrutinizing you. He was trying to figure out what it was that you weren’t telling him. Now wasn’t the time to say it was your feelings for Sam that were helping him more than anything. It was then that the idyllic reprieve ended. 

Sam sank to the floor and curled in on himself. “Please, I can’t again. It already hurts so much. So cold. Hurts.”

You felt a pain shoot through your heart, and you lowered yourself to the floor beside Sam. You ran your fingers through his hair to soothe him, but he didn’t acknowledge you were there. It wasn’t helping this time.

You stood up and turned to Dean. “Help me get him back upstairs.”

Dean nearly had to carry Sam up the stairs, he was so unsteady on his feet. Once back in the room you were sharing with Sam, Dean settled his brother on the bed. You needed to get that spell cast as soon as possible if you could make Sam coherent and strong enough to consent to having sex with you. He’d never consent to you taking his pain, so you were going to keep that part to yourself. 

Sam was shaking when you crawled onto the bed next to him. His eyes were closed, and you could have cried with relief when he said your name. “Y/N?”

“Yes, Sam, it’s me.” You longed to touch him, to make it better.

He opened his eyes, and you saw the recognition in them along with the brokenness. “I’m scared, Y/N.”

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him close; he lay his head on the center of your chest, and you held him. “You’re okay, Sam. I promise it’s going to be okay.” Love was indeed the most powerful magic. It had made him better every time he had been near you so far, and you waited for it to work again.

Eventually the shaking stopped; he was calm in your arms. Images of the way he’d looked cowering on the kitchen floor invaded your mind. I love you, Sam. You couldn’t say the words, but they were right there in your mind along with those pictures of him that tore your heart to pieces. 

You let him know what peace he could while you battled with an inner struggle. The last thing you wanted to do was shatter that peace, but you had an awful suspicion. You needed to know, considering what you were about to do. 

“Sam?” You whispered his name quietly, and he stirred in your arms. “Tell me about the cold.”

He didn’t say anything. It was quiet, so quiet the silence hung heavy over you like a weight you could feel pressing down on your shoulders. Then Sam spoke in an unsteady whisper. “I’ve never told anyone.”

You moved your hand to the back of his head to hold it. “You know you’re safe with me, Sam, don’t you? You know you can tell me anything.”

A few more seconds passed and Sam started to breathe out through his mouth in ragged little gasps. “It’s...it’s...Lu...Lucifer. The way he feels when...when….” 

“It’s okay, Sam. Take your time. Breathe. I’m right here.” You tried to prepare yourself for what he was about to say, but that was impossible.

“When he...f...forces himself inside me.” The pain that sliced through you was more acute than if the blade of a sword had cut into you. You squeezed your eyes closed and listened to him go on.

“He did it so many times.” You couldn’t see Sam’s face, and for once you were glad you couldn’t, unsure if you could hold yourself together if you saw the expression there. “It tore at me, and I bled. But that’s not what hurt so much.” You tried to steel yourself; you had to be strong, had to fight the wave of nausea you were feeling. “It was the cold inside me, so cold it burned.”

Several more seconds passed that grew into a minute. He was done. He wasn’t going to say anything else. You knew. All you could do was continue to hold onto him; you couldn’t make that go away. “I’m sorry, Sam. I’m so sorry that happened to you.” You kissed the top of his head and let your tears fall quietly into his hair. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, how long the two of you had been like that. Sam hadn’t looked at you once, his head bowed with a shame that wasn’t his to bear. He had put his arms around you at one point and held onto you tightly as if you were his touchstone with the present and reality. His grasp had loosened but his arms were still there when he said, “Why are you still here, Y/N?”

You rested your cheek on top of his head. “Because I want to help you.”

“Why? Why would you want to help me? I’m dirty.” Sam finally raised his head to look at you. His soul was in his eyes, and it was heartbreakingly sad. How had such a beautiful soul survived what he’d been through? 

“Sam, no. You aren’t.” You cupped his cheek, holding his face in your hand. 

Sam’s voice took on an edge of anguished anger. “He said no one would ever want me, would ever want anything to do with me.” Sam hung his head again, the anguish winning.

Gently, you tilted his head up until his eyes met yours. “I do. I want to be with you, Sam.” You touched your lips to his, so softly it was barely a kiss. It was such a different kind of kiss from the one he had given you that morning.

When you pulled away, Sam was looking at you in disbelief, wonder, and with a hope that what you said was true. He swallowed hard. “I haven’t been with anyone since I got my soul back and...remembered. I want to...with you.”

You closed your eyes and opened them, nodding. “You can. However you need.”

You hadn’t expected it to happen like this, this soon, but the necessary ingredients for the spell were in your system. All you had to do to activate them was say you loved him in your head during the act. You didn’t even need to say it out loud. This spell relied solely on you, your feelings and your intention. You’d already been repeating it in your mind like a mantra, and you weren’t going to stop. You loved him so much, you’d given him a part of yourself already. You would give him anything.

“You really want to be with me after what I told you?” You kissed him again as if to prove it, and this time he kissed you back. 

Sam slowly lifted your shirt over your head. He hadn’t exposed much of you yet, but he spent so long looking at you, his eyes roaming over your body, that you wondered if he had changed his mind. At last, he lowered his head and started kissing your neck. His kisses were gentle and open mouthed. He began to make a trail of them, moving lower to your breasts. Then he stopped.

You could feel his breath on your skin when he spoke. “This is okay?”

Your heart clenched and then filled with even more love for him. “Yes, Sam. Whatever you need. I want you.”

He touched you, running his fingers along the top edge of your bra and feeling the swell of your breasts. His hand rubbed over your shoulder and down the length of your arm. When he looked at you, there was no fear in his eyes; but there was hesitation. He could take as long as he wanted to resolve whatever it was that was making him hesitate.

You tried to tell him with your eyes what you couldn’t yet say. I LOVE YOU. Finding enough reassurance in your eyes, Sam kissed you. His tongue making a slow circle around yours. The kiss didn’t last very long, but it was followed by another that was a little deeper. 

Between kisses, his lips stayed near yours. “I like having you close.”

“I like it too,” you answered and hoped it encouraged him to keep going.

The next kiss was the deepest one yet, and you felt your body respond to what he was doing to you. An ache for him began to blossom in your core. You could feel yourself getting wet for him.

His lips moved so close to yours when he spoke. “Will you take it off for me? Your bra?” You nodded, your cheek brushing against his. 

You sat up a little. Sam was watching your every movement. You reached back and unfastened your bra, pulling the straps slowly down your arms. You let it drop somewhere on the bed.

Sam looked at you again, his eyes taking in every inch of you. He whispered, “You’re perfect. So beautiful.” You smiled at him, wishing you could freeze this moment. The tone of his voice and his eyes told you that for a second he had forgotten everything else.

The moment passed. Sam took off his plaid and the t-shirt underneath, peeling it off his body. Now, it was your turn to look. His eyes met yours, and they were questioning you, waiting for a response or some indication of what you were thinking. If only you could say the words you longed to say, you wanted so badly to give him yourself completely, body and heart, if only he was ready to hear them. As it was, with all the doubts he had, you didn’t want him to overwhelm him with that declaration. The words you said instead were “Can I?”

He nodded to you. “Yes.”

You let your hand wander over the muscles in his shoulders, his chest, and his stomach. “You’re beautiful too, Sam.” He closed his eyes. You continued to explore his body with the lightest touch of your fingertips, observing his reaction closely for any sign of distress.

You kept most of your touches well above his waist, letting him feel what it was to be touched by someone who loved him. He sighed, and it was a gentle sound free of strain. You smiled again, even though he couldn’t see you. 

“Sam, do you want me to take off the rest of my clothes?” He opened his eyes, and the question hung there. 

You could hear him breathing deeper now, his arousal starting. “I do want that.” 

You opened the button on your jeans, lowered the zipper, and eased them down your legs. For now, your panties were still on. They were simple, made of white cotton; they didn’t need to be anything else. There was no seduction in what the two of you were doing. It was pure, the purest thing you had ever known or felt. 

“Do you want to touch me, Sam? Let me prove to you how much I want you.” His hand reached out for you, and you took it. You guided his hand to that place beneath your legs where you were wet for him so he could feel it. 

Sam didn’t move his hand. He left it there for a few seconds before lifting it, looking at his fingers, and running his thumb over them to feel the wetness there. His lips parted as he looked to you for verification of what your body was telling him. “See. I want you.”

You slipped off your panties, lay down on the bed, and lifted your arms to him. Sam accepted your invitation, lowering himself over you, bracing his weight so it wasn’t fully on you. Now when he kissed you, his hand was moving down your side, over your hip, and back up again. “You feel so good, Y/N. Your skin is so soft, so warm.”

Feel all the warmth. Take it, my love. Your arms were around him, your hand in his hair. You were ready to do this for him, take on a portion of the horror that caused him to suffer so much. You would take it all if you could.

Sam broke the kiss. “Are you sure?”

You stared into his eyes the way you had imagined doing in that motel when you’d first met him. “I’m sure.”

Sam moved to take off his jeans. He was semi hard, not there yet. That was okay. 

He positioned himself over you again, and you put your arms back around him. You were still being careful to keep your hands on his upper back. While Sam kissed you, you could feel him continuing to harden until he was fully erect. He stopped kissing you, and looked into your eyes, searching once more. You said just one word “Yes.”

He entered you a little at a time, inch by inch, until he was completely inside. Initially, Sam stayed still within you. You bit your bottom lip, adjusting to the way he stretched you and waiting for him to move. When he didn’t, you asked, “Sam, are you okay?”

There was a pause, and then he said, “Am I hurting you?” 

You buried your face into the side of his neck and kissed him tenderly there. “No, Sam. You aren’t hurting me. I like the way you make me feel. 

He started to move with a slow rolling movement of his hips. You didn’t hold back your sounds of pleasure; you let him hear them. Sam responded by beginning to thrust.

That’s when you heard it. “You think you can fix him?” You turned your head in the direction of the mocking voice. It was him. It was working. You saw HIM.

Lucifer looked like a man, but there was a malevolence that radiated out from him. You hated that he could see you now, see you with Sam, invade this most private moment, even if he wasn’t real. He continued to mock you.

“You think you can save him? From me? It’s too late, you foolish woman.” He walked closer. You closed your eyes to block out the sight of him, but you could still hear what he was saying. “He belongs to me. I. Marked. Him.”

You wouldn’t let him violate this moment. You would endure seeing and hearing Lucifer for the rest of your life, but he couldn’t lessen this; this was beautiful. You focused on the connection, on the intimacy Sam was sharing with you. “I want you, Sam. I want you.”

The voice sounded so close, and you squeezed your eyes more tightly closed. “I told you he’s mine. I claimed him. Over and over.” You fought to hold in the sob that threatened to erupt out of you. Sam could not know what was happening. As long as you kept your eyes closed, Sam could mistake the pained grimace on your face for passion. “You should have heard him cry. He begged, pleaded with me to stop.”

Sam’s thrusts got faster. “Yes, Sam. Yes.” You wanted to dig your fingers into his back, but you didn’t. You were receiving what he gave you, what he was ready to give.

Lucifer’s voice, that was now in your head, was cruel. “You know what was the most fun?” You waited, dreading what he would say next, but Lucifer didn’t finish. You opened your eyes. He was gone. That meant….

You could say it now, the words you had been struggling to hold back, because you knew he would want to hear it. “I love you, Sam.”

His hips started to stutter, and he filled you with his release. Your walls fluttered around him, taking you right to the edge, but you didn’t come. It didn’t matter. 

Sam kept you close after he slipped from your body, rolling you onto your side to face him. You gazed into his eyes; you could look at them forever now. Sam’s heart was yours; he wanted you the way you wanted him. He verified what you were thinking by saying, “I love you too, Y/N.” You knew it, but there was nothing like hearing the words. 

“Thank you...for showing me...for giving me what you just did.” He brushed your hair from your cheek. He lowered his eyes, then lifted them back to yours. “You didn’t...did you. It wasn’t good for you. It’ll be better for you next time. I promise.”

“Don’t ever think you don’t give me enough, Sam. Don’t ever think that.” You kissed him softly and sweetly. 

“Will you let me do it now?” Sam asked you quietly. “Make you feel good.”

You traced your fingertip down his check and along his chin. “If that’s what you want. You don’t have to do anything, Sam.”

Sam covered your mouth with his, and you opened to his kiss and his touch. You spread your legs when you felt his fingers moving through your folds. He circled your clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure. He had already taken you so close, it wasn’t long before you were coming undone and falling into the bliss of your orgasm. 

He nuzzled his cheek against yours and whispered into your ear, “I love you.” Sam slept peacefully in your arms that night, as you did in his.

The next morning Sam woke you with his kisses. You opened your eyes, and his radiant smile greeted you. He had never smiled like that before. His dimples had never shone so bright. “He’s gone, Y/N. I can feel it.”

You smiled back at the man you loved, the man who returned your love. “He is gone, Sam, and he won’t come back. He can’t hurt you anymore.” Whatever else you needed to do to help Sam deal with what he had been through, you would. The things you might have to face together would no longer include hallucinations of Lucifer. 

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @peridottea91 @logical-princey @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @jules-1999 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @dawnie1988 @volleyballer519 @outcastedangel @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @sorenmarie87 @lovealways-j

Sam/Jared: @girl-next-door-writes @stunudo @feelmyroarrrr @idabbleincrazy @evansrogerskitten @focusonspn @autumninavonlea @durinsbride @deansyahtzee @waywardnerd67 @fullmooner @sams-sass @beskaradberoya

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

and the void looked back to say i love you (Part One)

A/N: did i write a whole fic inspired by the time phil surfed the void in osmp and then soon after that kristin sent in a tts saying "i love you"? yes. yes i did. (I'm aiming to update this every saturday until its done)

Warnings: brief violence mentions, implied/referenced character death (none of the osmp members, just random people), kristin has some mild eldritch horror moments (but it’s barely that she’s just a spooky lady)

Summary: All Kristin had known was all-consuming darkness. Not that she particularly minded it, the Void was her domain. But then along comes Philza, and her life is filled with light in the form of laughter and twinkling eyes. (Alternatively, five times Phil visited Kristin in the Void and one time she came up to the Overworld.)

Masterpost

-

The first time Kristin met Phil, he was flying along the roof of her domain, laughing and cheering as a murder of crows flew close behind him, cawing in a cacophony of distress and elation. She was confused by the birdlike man- not by the fact that he seemed to be part bird, but by the fact that there was someone even near the void at all.

"Why don't we dip down and touch the void? Just for a second," she heard the man say to his crows, who responded with squawks of terror. She watched, intrigued as the man began to dive down with a hand outstretched, the crows cawing their dissent all the while. His fingers brushed through the inky nothingness, the darkness of her domain creeping up his wrist- and then with a powerful flap of his wings he wrenched himself free of the void's grip. Taking on a physical form, she poked her head up out of the void to gaze at the man with wide eyes. She had never seen someone escape the grip of her domain before. And if she hadn't been intrigued before, she was certainly intrigued now.

“I’m fine guys, see? The void didn’t-” the man stopped midway through consoling his crows as he turned midair and locked eyes with Kristin. He looked just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. He nearly started falling towards the void again, but quickly caught himself and hovered above Kristin. The crows circled around the man, cawing in a mix of alarm and excitement.

“Hello,” Kristin called out, a little unused to speaking but excited to have the chance to. The man let out a startled squawk in response, nearly unbalancing himself in the air but still managed to stay aloft.

“You can talk?!” the man cried out in surprise. Kristin tilted her head to the side in confusion.

“You can talk,” she said pointedly. The man let out a laugh, shaking his head in mild embarrassment.

“Good point. I just… didn’t think you were real. Thought my mind was playing tricks on me or some shit,” the man replied, still chuckling a bit. Kristin laughed along with him, and the man’s expression turned into something both mildly terrified and hopelessly endeared.

“What’s that look for?” Kristin asked, head tilting to the side in confusion. The man flushed slightly, and the crows’ caws took on a more teasing tone.

“Your laugh is uh- kind of unsettling, echoing through the void and all. But it’s also kinda charming in a way,” the man said with a bashful smile. The crows’ caws grew louder as they seemed to heckle the man, and he swatted at them in annoyance, muttering something about how he was not blushing.

“I think you’re kind of charming too,” Kristin said sweetly. That sent the crows into a tizzy, and the man’s expression lit up with a grin. Kristin decided she liked seeing the birdlike man smile.

“My name’s Philza, most people call me Phil though,” he said, reaching out his hand for half a second as if he intended to shake Kristin’s hand, but then promptly realized that he couldn’t even see Kristin’s hands. She chuckled good-naturedly, then drew herself up from the void to be more level with Phil. He was much smaller than she had thought, in fact her hand was bigger than his whole body.

“I’m the Queen of the Void, but if I were to know any people, they’d call me Kristin,” she replied, holding out her hand to Phil. He flew back a bit in surprise, then gave a sheepish smile and reached out to awkwardly pat her finger instead of attempting to shake her hand.

“It’s lovely to meet you- hold on, let me find an opening up there to rest on, my wings are getting tired,” Phil said, beginning to glide away.

“You can rest on my hand if you’d like! I promise I won’t pull you into the void, you’re the first person I’ve spoken to in… well, ever, I think,” Kristin offered, holding out her hand palm up. A few of Phil’s crows flew to rest in her hand, cawing up at her in greeting. Phil looked a little skeptical still, but seeing as his crows were alright, he flew down to sit cross-legged in her palm.

“Thank you. I get tired a little quicker when I’m away from the sky,” he explained.

“Then why come down here at all?” Kristin asked. Phil shrugged.

“I was exploring, saw an opening to the void and decided to explore. In all my traveling, I’ve never seen access to the void through the Overworld,” he replied.

“But you’ve seen the void before?”

“Yes, when I was very young. The place I came from was just an island in the void.”

“Then why are you here? In the ‘Overworld,’ as you put it,” Kristin asked. Phil frowned in thought, a dark, mournful expression taking over his face for a few moments before he shook his head. “It’s… a long story,” Phil said, something dark taking over his previous cheerful tone.

“You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to, I didn’t mean to pry,” Kristin said hurriedly, something in her stomach twisting uncomfortably at making her new friend upset. Phil patted her hand reassuringly, giving a weak smile.

“It’s alright, I just don’t talk about it much… mostly because I don’t have many to talk about it to. Anyway, something… bad had happened, on the island. I don’t remember much, but what I do know is that people had come in big ships and attacked my home. Myself and some others managed to fly away to try and escape through the portal the people had made to get to our world… but I was the only one that made it out before something happened on the other end, and the portal shut down,” Phil explained, the smile he had managed before slowly slipping off of his face as he talked. One of his crows resting on his shoulder hopped over to nuzzle his cheek, and Phil gently scritched the bird’s head with a wistful smile.

“I’m very sorry to hear that. It’s terrible, what happened to you,” Kristin said, wishing there was something more she could do than just offer condolences. Phil merely shrugged.

“Not your fault, not mine either. It just… happened, I guess. For a while I tried to find a way back, tried to relight the portal or find a different one- but no luck. Decided to just travel and explore instead,” Phil said.

“Sounds like a rather lonely adventure,” Kristin replied.

“Oh it’s not that lonely, I’ve got my crows after all. They just sorta started following me around- I’m pretty sure they think I’m a giant crow, since they call me ‘Dadza’ sometimes,” Phil said with a chuckle. The crows squawked indignantly, seemingly arguing among themselves and with Phil.

“They talk?” Kristin asked, frowning as she listened to the crows a little closer, but couldn’t make out any words amongst the chaos.

“I mean… not exactly, but I do understand what their caws mean,” Phil explained. Kristin raised an eyebrow.

“So… you are a giant crow, then,” she said with a wry smile. The crows ceased their argumentative cawing for a moment to look at Kristin, then back at Phil, before they started a ruckus of excited caws.

“Look what you’ve done, you’ve gone and encouraged their chaos,” Phil huffed, crossing his arms and looking very disgruntled as a murder of crows hopped and fluttered around him, cawing in excitement all the while. Kristin couldn’t help it- she laughed.

“Sorry. I did think you were a bird when I first saw you down here,” Kristin said sheepishly.

“Well… you’re not wrong, I am birdlike in some ways, but I think a giant crow is a bit of an oversimplification,” Phil replied.

“But an accurate oversimplification,” Kristin countered with a grin. Phil threw his head back and groaned, although it morphed into a laugh at the end, and Kristin couldn’t help but join in and laugh as well.

[whereisten]

ghouls just wanna have fun (A Creature Feature Story)

A Taeil fic that’s part of our Halloween Series! 

Summary: After your date ends up being a dud, you stumbled upon an unusual movie theater and its most appealing visitor, Moon Taeil. 

Pairing: Ghost! Taeil x female reader

Genre: romance, angst, pinch of smut, drama, fantasy, horror

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: gore mention, death mention, smut: masturbation mention

(A/N: Hi! Special shoutout to the Creature Feature readers. I love you...It’s almost one year to the day that I posted Part 1 (I know: where the hell is the rest of it?). Rest assured, the series will continue in November. This Halloween series has gotten me out of my funk. I hope you enjoy this story. And to newcomers, welcome! This story can be read alone, if you'd like, but I think you’d enjoy this more if you read my Creature Feature updates! Anyways: SHOUTOUT TO MY BEST FRIEND AND PARTNER IN CRIME/WRITING KRYS. SHE CREATED ANOTHER SPECTACULAR MOODBOARD FOR ME. SHE’S MADE SEVERAL FOR ME. AND I AM SO SPOILED. HER BRILLIANT BRAIN AND VISION DESERVE ALL OF THE LOVE. SEND IT HER WAY. We hope you enjoy this installment and our upcoming posts! Thank you for all of the love in our stories so far!

___

“Jaebum, I’m not going. Let me off here,” you demanded.

Well, tonight was just fantastic. Fan-freaking-tastic.

Your date that your friends set you up with ended up being a bust. He wanted to take you to a house party so he can get high and you could be his side piece for the night. Your friends were all in committed relationships and they thought you were bummed because you felt single and bitter.

No, you were just bummed at the fact that your friends had blown you off too many times for their significant others. That was the actual problem.

But they were doing better with you, you had to admit. They spent more time with you as their honeymoon stages with their significant others had finally dwindled. The set-up was supposed to be for fun.

They even thought that this date could open doors for you.

Doors to what? Well, it ended up being to the stench of weed in the back of Jaebum’s old Sonata.

Jaebum’s car, which included his two stoner friends Jinyoung and Yugyeom, came to a halt at a red light near a plaza.

“You want to leave, y/n? Then here’s your stop,” Jaebum said.

You raised your eyebrows. “You’re kidding me, right?”

Jaebum shrugged. “Take it or leave it. I got places to go.” His friends muttered over how uncool you were. The least this jerk could’ve done was take you back home.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Go to hell.”

The car sped off as you stood near the plaza entrance. It was getting colder as midnight approached. So you decided to wait outside of an abandoned Spirit Halloween store so your Uber could pick you up from there. You walked towards the plaza and suddenly…

Bright lights appeared before you that you quickly shut your eyes. You blinked them open, wondering what just transpired when you realized...

There was an active movie theater there, with a giant sign surrounded by bright light bulbs. It read “Sinema”.

What the hell, you thought.

You walked closer and closer and saw people coming in and out of the theater. And then...oh, wow, you really had lost your mind. Little human-like creatures of different colors were flying around the entrance...They were fairies! Their pixie fairy dust landed on your shoulders. You picked off the dust that had fallen on the shoulder of your dress. The texture reminded you of Cheeto dust. It was hard to get off. You were certain your black dress was permanently stained.

Then, a man walked past you and transformed into a large purple dragon before your very eyes. He blew out fire within a few feet from you, you yelped. He set off for the sky and vanished. After, another group of men walked past you, flashing their vampire teeth as they laughed about something. They were all stunning but the one with wavy electric blue hair was the real showstopper. You couldn’t think that too long as people that looked bright and transparent walked towards you.

You thought they were going to bump into you so you said. “Hello? Watch where you’re going!”

But they walked right through you and kept going. Seemed like they got that kind of comment a lot.

You blinked a few times. Did that just happen? Were those...ghosts?

A young woman in her red and navy blue uniform appeared before you. She smiled. “Welcome to Sinema, the premier theater for the supernatural! My name is Haseul. You look like you have a lot of questions. Is this your first time here?”

“I...I…” You started. “Is this really happening?”

She laughed. “Yes...All supernatural creatures and their approved companions are welcome here!”

You frowned. “There must be some mistake. I’m not a supernatural creature.”

Haseul pulled out her phone. “Your name?”

“Uh...y/n y/l/n…” You said. “Wait, why did I say that?” You answered her without even thinking. It was like she compelled you to do what she asked.

She winked. “It’s a special little skill of mine. It’s a part of the job.” She scrolled through an app on her phone. “Well, you’re not a part of the approved human companions list so...You have to be supernatural!”

You gaped. “That’s funny…This is a joke, right? Some kind of Halloween event? Well, you’re a few months too late…”

Haseul shook her head. “Oh, no, this is no reenactment. This is the real deal. Allow me to escort you inside.”

You weren’t sure if that was a good idea but you were curious. You followed her inside.

The movie theater was elegant and modern. The latest video games were available at the arcade. The concession stand was huge. It had to be with the number of creatures that were lined up for snacks. The theater was three stories high. Posters for the latest movies were up. The music that played overhead consisted of songs from the 70s, 80s, and more. Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” was playing.  Sinema seemed like any regular theater.

Well, except for the supernatural creatures, of course.

“What is this place?” You asked Haseul. “This can’t be real...I’ve been drugged. Jaebum got something in my system and I’m hallucinating. That has to be it.”

Haseul gave you a confused look. “This place is very real, y/n. I know it might be a hard pill to swallow but you belong here. To the supernatural world. A part of you is connected to this world. I’m not sure why it took you so long to discover that but...you’re here now.”

Haseul’s phone rang and she answered. “Yeah, boss?...Okay, I’ll stop calling you that...Oh? I see. Well, have fun with your boyfriend…” She teased. She hung up and she continued, “Well, y/n, I must be going but if you need anything, you can reach out to anyone who is wearing this uniform.” She showed off her uniform. She looked like a very casual flight attendant. The navy blue skirt was very flattering on her. Her white blouse had a red tie over it. Her name tag had her name written in her own elegant cursive.

“W-wait…” You started.

Haseul gave you a reassuring smile. “You can stay or leave, y/n. No one is keeping you here. But know that you’re always welcome here at Sinema. We hope to see you again.” She walked off to resume working, you thought.

You stood there, confused over what to do. Going to the movies hadn’t been in the cards for you tonight. Much less finding out that the supernatural existed in the same world you did.

Unless this was a parallel world, which just made your head spin even more.

Deciding to stay, you went back out to the main entrance to buy tickets. You heard growls among the chatter of people that stood in line before you. All kinds of creatures stood in front of you: werewolves, selkies, fairies, kitsunes, and more. You felt like the only outsider. For everyone else seemed to know their place…

According to Haseul, the only reason you could access this place was because you were a supernatural creature. And that...that just couldn’t be true. Sure you were adopted but you never displayed any kind of power or ability that would indicate you were a creature.

It was impossible, you thought. A striking young man with long silver hair stood behind you and you could feel his eyes on the back of your head. He was tall and muscular. You wondered what kind of creature he was or if he was actually a companion like Haseul described. You turned to him and his stare never wavered. “Can I help you?” You asked.

He blinked a few times to snap out of it. “I’m sorry...I zoned out…” He tipped an imaginary hat. “It’s your turn.”

“Miss?” The employee at the ticket stand asked. Like the young man behind you, she seemed human. However, the red tint in her eyes told you otherwise. You wondered what she could be.

“Oh, uh... A ticket to ‘Spider-Man: The New Kid’, please,” you said.

“That’ll be 12.50,” the employee replied.

Even if this was a movie theater for the supernatural, they certainly charged like a regular theater did. You paid the employee and got your ticket. The ticket stub was actually very beautiful. It was holographic so you could collect these stubs like trading cards, if you wanted.

You hung around too long so the silver-haired boy approached you.

He smiled at you. “Hello.”

You smiled, a little uneasy. “Hi…”

“First time at Sinema?” He asked. The man was stunning with his high cheekbones and dangerous dark eyes. A devil-may-care smile that must have won over a few women.

You nodded. “Is it that obvious?”

“The look of horror on your face hasn’t faded,” he said, chuckling.

You sighed. “Yeah...Well, I’m still pretty stunned.”

He said, “Well, you’ll get used to it eventually. Something about you makes you belong to this world, right? Do you know what it is?” His eyes widened.

It was almost as if he knew the answer. But if you didn’t know, how could he?

You sighed. “I couldn’t tell you. Maybe I’m just a fluke.”

“Oh, I have to disagree…” He started.

A ghost materialized right beside you. He stood closer to you and stared down the silver-haired man. Even if he was a ghost, he was the most alluring man you’d ever seen. Although translucent, his features were striking and not to be ignored. His undercut that accentuated his face so well was bright red, like rubies. His ears were decorated with crescent moon studs. He wore a navy button down and black slacks, like he was dressed for a hot date. His tan skin cast an ethereal glow. “Yuta, give the girl some air. She just discovered she’s not human.”

The silver-haired man named Yuta sighed. “Do you ever stay out of people’s business?”

The ghost rolled his eyes. “Do you?”

You averted your eyes from them and looked at the concessions menu. Hmmm, the Sour Patch Bats looked promising, you thought. You started, “I’m gonna go.”

Yuta was about to call your name again but the ghost boy raised his hand to stop him. “You’re already messing around here too much. Leave her alone.”

Yuta rolled his eyes. “I don’t have to listen to you. I’m the alpha.”

The ghost boy made faces as he imitated Yuta’s voice. “I’m the alpha. I eat the hearts of my enemies for breakfast. I’m Yuta.”

Yuta growled and it was so animalistic that you wondered if he was going to transform into the creature he most likely was. Your money was on him being a werewolf.

Yuta stormed off and returned to his posse of gorgeous and muscular people. They all watched you and you wondered what was so fascinating about you.

The ghost boy followed you as you got in line for concessions. “What’s your name?”

“Y/n...Yours?” You looked into his soulful eyes.

He smiled. “I’m Taeil. The eyes and ears of Sinema. And you’re new.”

“Yup...And I have no idea who I am or what the world is anymore…Well, it’s time for a snack.”

Taeil chuckled. “The Sour Patch bats are really popular but they sell out fast.”

An employee at the concession stand announced over the intercom. “Sorry, folks. The Sour Patch Bats are sold out.”

Everyone groaned and moaned and growled and wailed. Even you couldn’t help the tiny huff of disappointment that escaped your lips.

Taeil sighed. “Well, lucky for you y/n. I’m friends with the manager of this joint.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Oh, are you?”

He smirked. “I know where she keeps her secret stash of Sour Patch Bats. Now she normally hides those away for her boyfriend but I’m sure she won’t miss one bag…”

Taeil led you upstairs to the manager’s office.

You frowned. “Are you sure we can be here?”

Taeil winked. “Nope. But she owes me.”

Taeil moved himself through the front door and unlocked the door from the inside. You entered the office and found a bouquet of flowers on the manager’s desk.

“How did you touch…”

He cleared his throat like he’d debated what he was going to say. “With most of my strength, y/n...Anything to impress the prettiest girl to set foot in Sinema.”

Although your concept of ghosts was completely debunked (ghosts could indeed touch inanimate objects), your face warmed up at that comment. You tried changing the subject. “Taeil, maybe this is a bad idea…”

He shook his head as he stuck his hand through the manager’s desk drawer and rummaged around before he grabbed a bag of the popular candy. He threw it over to you. You caught it.

You opened the bag and ate the bat-shaped sour gummies of lime, orange, lemon, and cherry. They were the best candy you’d ever tasted and until tonight, you’d been deprived of their existence.

Your eyes grew. “These are...Oh my God.”

Taeil smiled knowingly. “I knew you’d like them. See, the supernatural world isn’t so bad, is it?”

You were touched. He was being so kind and attentive. So quickly, too. “No, I guess not…”

His beautiful lips curved upwards as he watched you enjoy the candy.

“What movie are you going to see?” He asked.

“Well, Taeil, I thought you were the eyes and ears of this place. You should know,” you teased.

He laughed. “Well, I don’t. Is it an oldie? Sinema plays throwback movies every week to appease the masses.”

You shook your head. “I’m watching the new Spider-Man. The new actor they picked is supposed to be above all of his predecessors so I’m excited.”

Taeil asked. “Can I join you?”

You pretended to deliberate. “Well, you have supplied me with sustenance so how could I say no?”

Taeil usually kept to himself, occasionally confiding in his best friend. He really was the eyes and ears of the theater. He knew of all the romantic entanglements that transpired. The current feuds between species. And more.

Typically, he was stuck facing his demons and never quite got past the last thing he needed to overcome in order to ascend to heaven.

He’d sought justice so what was holding him back?

And at the sight of you, he felt an ease in his heart that he hadn’t felt since he was alive.

___

Your first night at Sinema was the first of many where you and Taeil bonded and enjoyed each other’s company. You went to the theater every weekend and met up with him. You’d see a movie together and talk about it for hours on end. He’d even sometimes accompany you back to your dorm. And even if you could see him...no one else in the human realm could. So you would have to pretend you were on the phone when you talked to Taeil. Even as he sat closely beside you. Longing to hold your hand.

You wondered just how many creatures hid from you in plain sight. Some of them could masquerade as humans and you’d never know it. That terrified and excited you.

You loved Taeil’s sense of humor, how he showered you with free movie tickets and concessions (courtesy of his best friend’s connections), his wit, his smile, the goofy, fascinated look he gave you when you spoke.

You always wanted to push back his hair and slap his arm when he teased you. And you wondered what those soft red lips would feel like on yours.

But you couldn’t.

The most wonderful person you’d ever met.

And he was an apparition.

As for Taeil, well, he loved everything about you. Your mind. Your curiosity of the world. Your inability to shut away the unknown completely. The way you adapted to Sinema so quickly. The way you looked at him.

He was convinced that you also wanted to kiss him.

It killed you both, honestly.

You told him you were in your senior year of college. You were getting a degree as a nutritionist but you felt unsure about what you would pursue after college. You felt like nothing got your heart racing. You were just going through the motions, making your parents proud. They’d given so much to you so you didn’t want to disappoint them. So you figured getting a steady paying job was a step in the right direction and maybe one day you’d figure out your passion...and how to capitalize off of it.

Taeil could tell you were frustrated and lost and he wished you didn’t feel so down. He saw the light in your eyes. You had a whole future ahead of you. You would find your dream job someday, meet a man, settle down, have his children, and grow old together.

And him? Well, maybe at that point, he would finally have moved on.

Before meeting you, he was fixated on getting even with the man who murdered him and the woman who betrayed him and got the ball rolling.

He told you all about it...Originally, he didn’t want to because the details were too gruesome. But you’d been honest with him so it was the least he could do for you. He told you about his life in the west coast town of Luna, where he aspired to be a producer and songwriter. And he told you about how his life came to an abrupt end.

Taeil’s killer had been none other than Jung Jaehyun, the man whom his girlfriend had cheated on him with. Jaehyun was a member of one of Luna’s most notorious gangs and he detested Taeil. Taeil’s girlfriend, Lexa, didn’t know how to break up with Taeil so she could be with Jaehyun. She was frustrated because Taeil was so sweet and giving. He was so good to her that Lexa chickened out and never broke up with him. She was getting frustrated and Jaehyun was getting even angrier.

One of the nights that Lexa spent with Jaehyun, she let it slip that she wished there was a way she could get rid of Taeil. And Jaehyun was more than happy to oblige.

Jaehyun and his men cornered Taeil one night. He thought he was meeting Lexa for their 300 day anniversary. He got a text from her phone saying to meet her on the rooftop of the Nectarine Hotel because she had a surprise for him.

However, she was nowhere to be seen. Jaehyun took Taeil by surprise and pushed him off of the twenty story luxury hotel.

Jaehyun’s men lingered downstairs and made sure there were no witnesses on the scene. All evidence of Taeil’s death had been covered up. Taeil’s family and friends reported Taeil as a missing person. Lexa had also disappeared off of the face of the Earth. And many wondered if she and Taeil had disappeared to start anew.

That couldn’t have been further from the truth. Jaehyun, Lexa, and his men disposed of Taeil’s body off underneath an overpass. They’d buried his body and washed their cleans of him.

Taeil always thought about whether or not an afterlife existed. When he hit the ground from his fall, everything went black. The roaring pain all over his body that hit him for one moment...Quickly vanished at the next.

Taeil opened his eyes again and instead of seeing Downtown Luna...Only white surrounded him. Surrounded by golden specks.

An angel appeared before him with stunning peach-colored wings. The angel shined so brightly that Taeil couldn’t make out their face. They spoke softly… “Moon Taeil...Born June 14, 1994...Died October 22, 2018.”

Taeil sobbed then. “Please, is there any way you can save me?”

The angel sighed. “My poor child...You’ve been wronged. I want to give you the opportunity to seek justice...And once you have seeked justice and found peace, you can ascend into Heaven and join us. Our Heavenly Father awaits you.”

Before Taeil could respond, he became a ghost. He manifested into another town he couldn’t recognize. It was the city of Mystic. Jaehyun lived a life of luxury and terrorized the new city with his gang. And who reigned right beside him in a God-awful bubblegum pink wig?

The woman he’d loved and planned to propose to: Lexa.

Lexa played around with the buttons on Jaehyun’s designed shirt as she quietly thanked him for killing Taeil. And Jaehyun murmured back a thank you for giving him the idea and for suggesting a good hiding place for his remains.

Taeil felt sick to his stomach. The love he felt for Lexa had quickly shifted into hatred. And Taeil wanted revenge. He wanted to take them both down. But how, he wondered.

It took him a few more months to figure out how exactly he could enact revenge on them. Haunting them for a few weeks was a thrill but he wanted Jaehyun behind bars. And Lexa? Well, Taeil just wanted her to drown in guilt.

And then, Taeil found Sinema, a supernatural hub in the seemingly typical town of Mystic. Taeil struck a deal with the vampires to help them dig up his body. They in turn compelled the police to find his remains and track down Jaehyun.

Taeil owed the vampires a few months of haunting humans who had deceived them when they were once humans. So both parties were happy.

Taeil decided to spare Lexa from prison. Instead, her family, her friends, and everyone from Luna shunned her for having a hand in Taeil’s murder. Although she was never charged, she was as good as guilty as Jaehyun and his men.

Lexa remained in Mystic in a run-down apartment, barely making ends meet. The luxuries she was able to afford before, because of Taeil and then because of Jaehyun, were no longer accessible to her so she lived a life full of resentment.

But Taeil visited her many nights to remind her that more than anything, she should’ve felt guilt and remorse for what she’d done to him.

How she convinced him that he’d found happiness in her. How she made him out to be a fool. And how she discarded him like a piece of trash.

Lexa’s mind slowly unraveled over time and the guilt slowly consumed her each time.

Taeil ate it all up. This felt like justice and he didn’t want to ascend just yet. He wanted Lexa to get on her knees and pray to God for forgiveness for what she’d done to Taeil.

But that day hadn’t come. So Taeil frequented her apartment at night...Having Lexa think she dreamed of him as she slept.

One late Saturday night...going into Sunday morning, Taeil waited with you at the bench for your Uber to arrive to take you back to your dorm. Sometimes he accompanied you to the dorm and talked to you. You’d have to pretend you were on the phone so your Uber driver didn’t think you were talking to an imaginary friend.

Tonight, though, he wouldn’t be taking you home.

You asked, “Are you going to see her now?”

Taeil froze. “What?”

You wondered aloud, “Lexa...Do you haunt her on the weekends too?”

“Not recently, actually...I’ve been seeing her less.”

You smiled. “Taeil, that’s great. It means you’re getting over her.”

Taeil glared. “I don’t need to get over her. I despise her.”

Your smile vanished. “I know that. It’s just-”

He shot back, “Just what?”

You looked down at your hands and played with your fingers. “It’s just...You’ve sought justice...Jaehyun is rotting in a jail cell...Lexa is guilty over what she’s done...And...I hate to say this...But I think if you stop going to see her...There’s a chance you can finally ascend.”

He looked taken aback at your words. “I can ascend whenever I want.”

You lifted an eyebrow. “Really?”

Taeil looked even more annoyed as he sneered. “Absolutely. Excuse me for wanting to spend a little more time with you before I leave forever.”

His words infuriated you. “Taeil, you...I’m not the reason you want to stay...You’re hung up on your ex. Even if it’s not in the romantic sense...You’re fixated on terrorizing her until what? She begs for forgiveness?”

“And what the hell is wrong with that?”

“Taeil, you’re meant to find peace. You have to let her go.”

“Well, y/n, thank you for your opinion. I never asked for it but it’s certainly never stopped you...Have a safe trip back to your dorm.”

“Fine! Manifest yourself back to me when you get a grip.” You crossed your arms around your chest in anger. He was unbelievable. You were right. He just wouldn’t let go. He wouldn’t give up on seeing that...that wretched bitch.

Why did you let this piss you off so much and why were you overstepping...You had no right…

Perhaps it was because you’d fallen for Taeil and seeing him jeopardize his fate over this woman infuriated you like nothing else had.

The full moon was out that night and you couldn’t help but yell in fury at the sky.

Someone crept up behind you and with his claws, he scratched deeply into your collarbone. “Hey, what the fuck?!”

You turned around to find a werewolf before you. It was a literal wolf on two legs. His muscles protruded like that of a man’s but they were so large...You knew he could easily snap your neck with a quick movement of his hands. His tawny coat shined in the moonlight. His brown eyes watched you, expectantly.

You were about to get on your knees and beg for mercy.

You saw a group of people lingering beside the werewolf. You remembered them. They were a part of Yuta’s pack.

“Yuta?” You finally connected the dots and realized the wolf who scratched you was Yuta. You hadn’t seen him since that first time.

He had been a werewolf, after all. But why had he transformed? Why was he here? Why had he done this to you?

You winced slightly at the scrapes and monitored them as they quickly vanished. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

Yuta’s fur vanished as he transformed back into his human self. He was shirtless but his pair of jeans remained on. “Y/n, I wanted to confirm something…”

You frowned. “What?”

“The scratch of the alpha is borderline lethal to any outsider of the pack...So any pack member or...descendant of that pack member can heal from his bite…”

You laughed nervously, confused. You wanted to get the hell out of here. Where the bloody hell was your Uber? “Uh...That’s interesting, I guess.”

“Can’t you see, y/n? I’m the alpha of the Nakamoto clan. You’ve healed from my scratches...Which means…”

You demanded, “What does it mean?”  

“It means you are a descendant of this clan, y/n…”

You shook your head. “No...That’s...Impossible. I’m not a werewolf…”

“You were adopted at five months, y/n...Your parents perished in a war against the vampires...Your parents led normal lives as humans for as long as they could...Much to the disappointment of my father.”

“Yuta, you don’t know what you’re saying…”

“I do, y/n. The pack and I have uncovered everything about you and your family history. You’re a werewolf. An unawakened one.”

“No…”

“Explain how your bite healed. The only way you could enter Sinema of your own accord is if you possessed supernatural blood. And werewolf blood is as supernatural as it gets.”

“Yuta, please, you’ve got the wrong person...I don’t know why you bit me and why it healed. Maybe it’s some magic trick you pulled off to please your pack...I’ve had a shitty night so if you don’t mind, I’d like to go home,” you said, checking your phone for the arrival of your Uber. It was arriving.

“Y/n!”

The Uber pulled up and you turned to him. “Just leave me alone.”

___

You visited your parents the next day. You asked them about where they’d adopted you from. They’d always been very mum about the details.

“Someone told me something crazy the other day,” you said to them as the three of you shared dinner with your adopted younger siblings.

Your parents both looked at each other, concerned.

“He said my biological parents were werewolves!” You laughed in disbelief. “How crazy is that?”

Your parents eyed each other again.

Your mom started, “Who is this man?”

“Mom, I believe the proper response is ‘That man is crazy. Where did he get that kind of story?’”

You knew your parents were hiding something and you wanted to hear the truth from them.

Your father scratched his neck as he took off his glasses. Your younger siblings all eyed each other uncomfortably.

“Why aren’t you guys saying anything?” You asked.

Your dad said, “Y/n...We hoped for you to never find out.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Dad, you’re scaring me...Find out what?”

Your parents went on to tell you about the incidents you had when you turned eleven. After you’d had your first period, you began to experience terrible mood swings and throw tantrums left and right around the time the full moon occurred. And when you turned thirteen and the first full moon following your birthday occurred…

You’d attacked a neighbor who was walking their dog.

You’d grown teeth and hair all over your body that night. You’d become a wolf, according to your parents.

Once the night had ended, you’d transformed into a human again and fallen asleep.

Your neighbors never knew that it had been you. Your parents helped your attacked neighbor get to a hospital and they reported an animal attack in the neighborhood. Your neighbor couldn’t remember anything.

But her dog never forgot and hated you.

Your parents got a hold of the adoption agency and they had no information on your birth parents besides their names. Your parents then got in touch with a psychic, who referred them to a witch. They took you to the witch and she told them you were an unawakened werewolf. You were a fledgling. Unless you received the bite of an alpha werewolf and acquired your position in the pack, you were susceptible to these monthly full moon transformations and since you hadn’t been awakened, it would be even worse and dangerous for those around you. So the witch concocted a potion that would suppress your fledgling urges but it was critical that you consumed it each month.

Which explained why your parents were always so adamant for you to come home every month for dinner. They put the potion in your dinner. So you were able to suppress your urges up until this point.

Could this be the reason why you felt so unfulfilled? Because you never explored your true nature? Your parents never gave you the choice to control it.

Your parents had good intentions but you had the option to meet the pack all of these years...And you never knew.

You’d always felt like a part of you had been missing and your trip to Sinema had done the trick to lead you to the truth.

___

Back in your dorm and without having ingested the potion your parents had given, you’d only had a few days until the full moon. You were resolved to speak to Yuta.

You’d gotten out of the shower, letting out a shaky breath from all of the bundled up nerves you carried. You were shocked to find Taeil standing in your common room that you shared with your roommates. They were all away for the day.

“Taeil!” You started as you covered your towel more tightly around you.

“I heard,” Taeil started, worry etched all over his face, “If I could kill Yuta, I would…”

“Taeil, I’m going to him,” you started.

“What?” He asked.

“I’m going to be awakened by him.”

He looked at you in disbelief. “Y/n, what are you-”

“I’m an unawakened werewolf, Taeil. My biological parents were werewolves and if I don’t receive the official bite of the alpha, I’m going to suffer by the influence of the full moon.”

“Y/n, the full moon is in two weeks!”

“I know…” You said.

Taeil sighed. “Y/n, you have a chance to be away from the supernatural world. To avoid the dangers of these creatures. I know humans are terrible, deceitful, and cruel...But the supernatural doesn’t fare better. You didn’t grow up in this world. It could consume you and spit you right back out…”

You were resolved, though. You longed to explore more of the world and to embrace the part of you that had always been neglected. “Taeil, I’ve made my decision. My family has respected it. And I hope you will, too.”

A tear escaped Taeil’s eye. “Y/n, I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t left you alone…”

You shook your head as you wished to embrace him. “Taeil, this isn’t on you. This opened my eyes. My path is more defined now...Who knows what awaits me once I awaken? That’s for me to find out.”

Taeil extended his hand out and pretended to caress your face. “There’s nothing I can say to make you change your mind, is there?”

“No,” you said, as you leaned closer to his transparent hand.

He smiled weakly. “Y/n, I’ve thought a lot about it and you were right...I’ve given up on visiting Lexa.”

You opened your mouth wide. “Really?”

Taeil avoided your stare as he stared at the potted plant by the window. “I...wanted to stay longer but...we’re both meant to part ways...And I’m not happy...Terrorizing Lexa hasn’t given me any sense of fulfillment. Temporary pleasure? Yes...But I long to find that peace.”

You cried. “Taeil, I’m so happy to hear that. And you will find that peace, I promise you.”

“In the meantime, I’ll be by your side as you head into your next chapter.”

You smiled at him and didn’t realize your towel slipped to the floor.

“Y/n…” Taeil coughed as he quickly turned red and turned around.

“What?” You frowned.

Without looking at you, he pointed to the towel on the floor.

“Shit!” You exclaimed. But then, you watched Taeil...He was blushing…

“Did it hurt that much to look at my body, Taeil?” You asked, quietly.

“What?” He asked, confused.

“It’s okay...You can look…”

Taeil turned and was shocked to see you still unclothed.

You gave him a flirty smile. “I know we can’t touch...But it doesn’t mean we can’t have fun, right?”

You got onto your bed and slowly began to tease your clit and Taeil’s jaw nearly fell to the floor. He adored every inch of you as he scanned your body and worked his hardest to commit it all to memory.

You could see his member grow in his pants. He immediately gripped his gorgeous length and pleasured himself alongside you.

“I wish I could feel your heavenly cock on my clit…” You told him.

He grunted. “Heaven can wait...This is real paradise...Here with you.”

You muttered sweet nothings to each other and imagined that you made love to each other that day.

___

You and Taeil were more inseparable than before. Because you knew your days together were numbered.

The full moon arrived and Yuta had agreed that this was the ideal time for your initiation into his pack. You would be able to absorb the moon’s power as you transformed from Yuta’s bite.

Yuta invited you to his mansion in the woods not too far outside of town. His pack members were present and they’d arranged a massive bonfire at the center in honor of your awakening.

Taeil was right beside you, much to the chagrin of the rest of the pack members. But what could they do? Drag him out? When they couldn’t even lay a finger on him?

Yuta was dressed in his best tuxedo as he recited the pack’s code of conduct to you and welcomed you into their pack. He transformed into his wolf form and at the brightest the full moon had been, you’d taken on your fledgling form. You howled at the moon and became rabid. Yuta knew what he had to do.

Taeil watched you in concern but Yuta had sworn to protect you. For you would be one of his family soon enough. So Taeil had no choice but to trust him.

Yuta bit into your collarbone and your eyes shifted from their usual color and into a bright amber. You felt yourself regain consciousness and became aware of where you were.

“Y/n, do you know who I am?” Yuta asked.

You nodded.

Yuta continued, “Good. You are now a fully awakened werewolf. Harness your abilities with honor and know that you have a family in the Nakamoto clan forever.”

“Hear hear!” The pack members yelled out.

You’d reverted back into your human form through your own accord. You were shocked at how quickly you could turn back.

You ran over to Taeil and he beamed at you. “How do you feel?”

“I feel...whole...Fulfilled...I have no idea what will happen next but it’s a new kind of uncertainty...And I like it.”

Taeil said, “I’m glad, y/n…”

He started to pixelate before you and his voice began to fade.

Your smile faded. “Taeil?”

“I think God wanted me to stick around for this momentous occasion...Before he summoned me…”

You couldn’t help the tears that escaped you. “Taeil, I love you.”

He cried with you. “I love you, too. I will see you up there...Soon. I’d better be the first person you look up when you ascend, you hear me?”

You wrapped your arms around him and to your shock. To everyone’s shock at the party...You could feel Taeil. He was muscular and the warmth of his body was like the fuzziest blanket wrapped around you after the worst day. He felt wonderful. And you never wanted to let him go.

Taeil longed for the day he could feel your body around his...And it was only at this time when you two had to bid farewell when he could feel you against him. You were strong but at that moment, he held you tenderly. Like you would break at any second. Because this moment was the most fragile. It was fleeting. So you both soaked in the feeling of each other’s bodies as you held each other.

Taeil kissed you and you reciprocated. His lips felt just like you’d imagined them. Soft. Perfect against yours. His kiss was the euphoria you would treasure for the rest of your life.

You released each other.

“Goodbye, Moon,” you teased. You made a play at his last name. Since you were a werewolf now, you’d be highly influenced by the activity of the moon.

He joked back. “Goodbye, Wolfie. Don’t forget to howl at me once in a while. It’s kinda hot...” The cliche of werewolves howling at the moon was actually a common practice for them.

You shook your head and laughed as he faded away. You cried hard that night, missing him already.

Yuta and his pack comforted you as you cried. They celebrated you and they mourned with you. This pack had become your family.

___

Taeil finally ascended to Heaven. It was a lot like Earth but idealistic. Paradise had everything at his disposal. He could go to the movies and have an unlimited supply of Sour Patch Bats. He finally knew what they tasted like. He could get a foot massage whenever he felt like it. He could play his music and sing to his heart’s content. God was a big fan of Moon Taeil. 

But the thing he loved most was being able to look after the loved ones he left behind.

Now that Taeil had become an angel, he would accumulate power overtime in order to send blessings to the people he loved most.

Especially to you.

____

You’d gotten a better grip on your powers but you were still a long way from being Yuta’s right hand. You’d moved into one of Yuta’s apartment complexes that he owned. You were finishing up your last year of school, as well. Since you’d stabilized your powers, you could carry on with your day-to-day activities. It’s just nighttime that would be unaccounted for.

One day, Yuta visited you.

You greeted him as you welcomed him inside your spacious apartment. He sat down on your L-shaped couch in your living room as you gave him a glass of water. “To what do I owe the pleasure, boss?”

Yuta never visited his pack member’s homes unless it was important business. Usually, he summoned them to a common area, like one of his mansions in the city.

Yuta smiled. “I see you like your new place.”

You nodded. “It beats hearing my roommates screw their boyfriends every other night, I must admit.”

He laughed. “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”

“What’s up? You’re not usually one for small talk...Unless you want to sleep with them...And that girl isn’t here at the moment.” You knew about Yuta’s tumultuous relationship with Sinema’s manager.

Yuta blushed then. “You...Knock it off.”

You laughed heartily, then. You two had developed an older brother little sister relationship. Yuta was able to uncover more information about your parents and your extended family. He’d been extremely helpful during this time, providing financial support not only to you but your entire family.

When Yuta said the pack was a family, he really meant it.

Yuta was mulling over his next words and he gave you a solemn look. The light, breezy mood had quickly vanished.

The power the alpha held to control the room.

He said, “Y/n, prepare your things. The war is about to begin.”

[Fin...Or is it?]

Stay tuned for the next spooky story...

[being-of-rain]

Thoughts from my Classic Who watch, the first half of season 5. I continue not to have an awful lot to say, but I’m going to write down what thoughts I can remember as a record for myself.

For me, The Tomb of the Cybermen suffers a bit from the Spare Parts effect: I’ve heard so many people say that it’s amazing that it feels a little extra meh when it doesn’t really jump out at me. It’s certainly not bad though- the setting is interesting and the writing felt pretty tight. It’s just a shame that it’s been mined so much over and over again by Big Finish and the Who EU. And a shame about the racism too, I’m glad that part has never been duplicated in its many sequels and rip-offs. Of course the quiet moment between the Doctor and Victoria is lovely. It’s a shame there isn’t more of them in the series- Victoria isn’t mistreated by the Doctor, but he really isn’t cut out to be a young teenager’s guardian in the way his first incarnation was.

It might be an odd choice, but The Abominable Snowmen is one of the stories I’d be most interested in seeing missing episodes restored. Just because there are some moments- including tense horror moments and establishing shots of mountains- that I’d be interested in seeing how the show made happen with 1960s budget effects (even if the answer is ‘not very convincingly.’)

The Ice Warriors is maybe the most obvious example of something seen throughout the Second Doctor era- the main character and show’s hatred of computers. There must have been some cultural push-back against computers at the time, which isn’t hard to imagine since it happens to all new technology. As also happens with push-back against new technology, this story doesn’t seem to understand what it’s complaining about- it seems to be under the impression that relying on computers is bad because they won’t tell people to do something that endangers themselves. What a bizarre take. A cold take, you might say (there is a lot of icy stories this season, huh.)

Okay, I do have a sweet spot for main cast also playing the villain for no particular reason other than It’s Fun. The Enemy of the World makes a nice change from the rest of the monster/base season, and the Tardis Team fit into a globe-spanning political thriller pretty well. I’d seen this story before but completely forgot the twist that Kent was actually a villain, and I liked how the Doctor was able to guess at that by how quickly he resorted to murder. I also liked how the women were written in this serial, stronger characters than in other ‘60s episodes, though I still get sad that Fariah died.

[write-orflight]

Songs to Play While Hunting a Killer: Chapter One

*Gif not mine*

Prev -> Next

Pairings: HotchxReader, Enemies to lovers

Rating: M

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: None right now, eventually will be smut

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Y/N is a Bounty Hunter who always runs. Aaron is the Agent that stays behind, it was no mystery why they didn’t get along. When the two are called to revisit an old case together it’s no wonder old feelings revisit too.

AN: I’m taking some liberties with the reaper storyline but still keeping the basic crux of it. So please don’t attack me that it’s not exactly like the episodes I’m trying to fit it around the story. Message to be added to taglist! much love, Cia. 

        Chapter 1: Killer Queen by Queen 

You stopped at the motel first to check out and change. Opting for a black cropped t-shirt, skinny black jeans and as always your leather jacket. You put your bags in your car and head to the FBI headquarters. Queen blaring in your stereo and suddenly remembering why you hated driving in the city. You parked in the parking garage and put the top on Lou, figuring you’d be separated for a while. As you say your goodbyes, you hear a low whistle behind you.  

“Is that an 85 Miata?” The older gentleman asks. 

You smile. “Close, 1990. How are you doing, Rossi?”

The man looked confused for a second before the realization took hold. “Y/N?” You nod and the man is sweeping you in a hug. “Look at you, bella, you’ve grown. And changed styles apparently.” 

“Yea, that tends to happen over a decade, Rossi.” You laugh, following the man into the building. “What are you doing here though? Last I heard you were retired and rich?”   

“Still rich, just not retired.” The man laughs. “What’re you doing here though? Last I checked your dad is actually retired.” 

 “Actually, Hotchner invited me to consult on a case.” You say. Rossi looks at you incredulously. 

“Hotch? Willingly asked for your help?” 

“Well, it was like pulling teeth but thankfully he’s not an idiot.”

“What happened with you kids anyway? You were inseparable back in the day.” 

You frown. You didn’t like to think about that time in your life. “People change.”   

“I’ll say, look at you kid. All leather and classic cars now.” He laughs, you laugh with him as he directs you into the BAU. 

The two of you are immediately greeted by a brightly dressed blonde woman. “Hey Rossi!” She says to the man. 

“Garcia.” He greets, gesturing to you. “This is--” 

“Y/N Y/L/N.” She says, extending a hand for you to shake. “Hotch had me look into you, you are completely bad-ass! I read about how you went after that team of bank robbers last month that ended in a car chase. You’re like super cool, I’m Penelope.”

“Thank you, Penelope. Hotch made you look into me?” 

“Oh yea, I’m the Tech Analyst for the BAU.”

“I assumed so, and he made you do a background check on me?” You ask, trying not to sound angry. It wasn’t her fault, but your tone betrayed you. 

She looks at you awkwardly. “Umm, yea… Sorry?” 

“Not your fault, excuse me.” You nod to the two people. Rossi tries to stop you but you dodge the hand going to your wrist and stalk up the stairs to your dad’s old office that was now Hotch’s. You slam the door closed and he looks up from files on his desk and levels you with an angry expression. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He says. 

“You had a background check run on me?” You ask angrily. “When I’m already an approved consultant.” 

“Of course I did, I needed to know what kind of person I’m sending out there with my team.” 

“Which is why you read my file which already has my background check in it! Not to mention, you already fucking know me, Hotch.” You say, seething. “Don’t look into my life without my permission again.” 

The two of you didn’t notice the team watching you from the bullpen below. 

“Do you guys know who she is?” Reid says, looking to the group. 

Emily shakes her head. “No, but judging by how they’re yelling at each other, Hotch definitely knows her.” 

Penelope walks up to the group. “That’s Y/N Y/L/N. She and Hotch went to Academy together and she’s helping us with our next case. Which is what I came to tell you, we should head to the conference room now.” 

The team is waiting in the conference room for 5 minutes before you and Hotch walk in. You’re still kinda pissed but you knew better than to make other people shoulder your bad mood, especially strangers. 

“This is Ms. Y/N Y/L/N, she’ll be consulting with us this case-” 

“Doctor.” You say. Hotch looks at you confused. “I went back to school after I quit the FBI.” You explain. “So it’s Dr. Y/N Y/L/N.” 

“I didn’t know that.” He says. 

“What? It didn’t come up in your unnecessary background check?” You say, the team including Hotch give a small grimace. You decide to ignore that and sit. “Shall we get started?”       

A blonde woman cleared her throat. “Yea, we’re going to Boston, a couple was found dead in their car, the boyfriend was shot once in the head, and the girl was stabbed multiple times. We’re investigating to see if it was the Boston Reaper.” 

A light skinned man speaks up at that point. “The Reaper is back? He hasn’t killed in a decade, how are we sure it’s not a copycat?” 

“It’s him.” You speak up. The group looks at you, but you keep your eyes trained on the crime scene photos. “Is there any record of the male victim wearing glasses?” 

You watch the woman who introduced herself as Garcia earlier type on a laptop for a minute before speaking up. “There’s no record of it, why?” 

You push the photo towards Hotch so he could see what you were seeing. “It’s Foyet’s.” 

He looks at it and nods. “Wheels up in 30.” 

You pale for a second. “Up?” 

“Yea, we have a jet now, Bella.” Rossi says, patting you on the back. You swallow roughly. 

God, you hated flying. 

—————————————————-  

You really hated flying. 

The team seemed pretty calm, expected since they fly so much but there was a reason why you liked driving Lou everywhere. Flying was… not your style. 

“Fear of flying?” You look up to see the lanky kid from earlier looking at you.

“Fear of crashing.” You nod back. 

“You know, turbulence hardly results in crashes. What you really have to worry about is microburst. The sudden down-pressure of air hitting a craft like this will capsize it.” He says smiling, you look at him in horror, knowing he was just trying to comfort you but accidentally did the opposite. 

“You’re Dr. Reid, right? Gideon’s prodigy?” 

“You knew Gideon?” 

“I know Gideon. He was an agent on my dad’s team for years. I just had lunch with him about 2 months ago.” 

“Months?” He says, confused. “I haven’t heard from him in years and you saw him months ago?!” 

“Relax, it was purely by chance. I ran into him while working a bounty in Albuquerque and we decided we might as well eat lunch together while we were in the same place.” You shrugged. “He talked about you a lot though. Still keeps track of the work you’re doing, said he was proud.” 

“Well, if he really was I’d hear it from him.” 

“I know. Trust me I’ve called him an idiot multiple times for leaving the way he did but…. this life isn’t for everyone, it certainly wasn’t for me. It takes a toll and eventually something's gotta give.” 

“Let’s go over the case, please.” You hear Hotch call out. You both instantly turn your attention to the man. You can’t help the nervous feeling in your stomach, it’s been a while since you worked an actual case that wasn’t already solved. You didn’t want to fuck this up. You watched Aaron and his team go over the details of the case, now with the information that you provided them earlier. You watched as his team regarded him with respect and the authoritative air he had about him now. Hotch had always been a serious person, you not so much. Back in the academy days you used to balance each other out. Now, all you did was clash. 

“Do you have anything to add, Y/N?” Hotch asked. The team immediately turns to look at you. 

You smirk. “If I had something to say I’d say it, Hottie.” 

“Hottie?” The light skinned man from earlier questions, smirking at Hotch as well. Hotch ignores him leveling you with a serious look. 

“I’ve already told you it’s Hotch or Hotchner now, Y/N.” 

“Hotch.” You say, testing the word out on your tongue. You grimace. “Doesn’t have the same ring to it. I think I’m going to stick with Hottie, if you don’t mind.”  

“I do.” He says, blankly. 

“Well then, I guess it's good we have bigger things to worry about right now.” You say. He looks you in your eye, you look right back. You’ve never been scared of Aaron, you weren’t going to start now. The team was now watching the exchange intensely, you imagine that no one had really stood up to Hotchner before. 

“Fine.” he says after a while. “Reid, JJ you guys head to the Field office. Morgan, Prentiss and Rossi head to the crime scene. And you.” he says, looking you back in the eye, you smirk. “You’re with me, you’re going to help us find George Foyet since he has no last known address. Show me how good you actually are at bounty hunting.” 

“Oh, I’m more than good, Hottie.” You wink. Aaron rolls his eyes. 

You sigh. Just like old times. 

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

When you exit the plane, the FBI issued SUVs are already waiting. Before he could notice, you picked the keys out of Hotch’s pockets and slid into the driver's seat, putting your shades on to combat the baking sun. He looks confused for a second before just getting into the passenger seat. You put Queen on the stereo before peeling out. You drive for a while in silence, Hotch clearly watching you. 

“What?” you say. 

“Is this how you start all your cases? Because you seem to just be driving aimlessly and we don’t have tim--” 

“Hottie, relax. I know exactly what I’m doing.”  

“Hotchner.” 

“Come on, there was a time when you liked me calling you Hottie.” 

“Times change.” 

You nod. “That’s true.” You say, you knew you and Hotch would never be the same after what happened. “Call your tech girl for me?” You ask.

Hotch nods and calls. You hear a voice on the line. “Talk dirty to me.” it says. 

“Hey, it’s Y/N/N.” You say. “Can you tell me where Roy Colson works?” 

“I can tell you what he ate for breakfast, honey. One second.” You continue driving listening to the faint clacks of Garcia’s typing. “Employee records say he’s employed at the Boston Examiner now.” 

“Exactly what I thought, thanks Garcia.” You park. “We’re here.” You say getting out the car, Hotch falling into step behind you. 

“How’d you know? Where Roy was?” He says. 

You look at him confused. “Basic investigation skills? I may not have a fancy technical analyst but I do know how google works.”   

The two of you walk into the building and are greeted by a woman seated at the front desk. You smile walking up to her. “Hi, Meredith? I think I spoke to you on the phone earlier.” 

“Yes, Zoe right?” 

Hotch looks at you confused but you just smile and nod. “That’s me.” 

“I’ll show you back to Roy’s desk. He must be so excited you guys are visiting.” 

“Yea, we’re just stopping in town before the honeymoon, thought we might surprise him for lunch.” If Hotch didn’t look confused before, he sure did now. 

“If you head down this hall and to the left, his desk is in the far left corner. Have a fun lunch, Congrats on your marriage.” 

“Thank you!” You say smiling, slipping your hand into Hotch’s. “Come on, honey. Let’s go.” 

As soon as the receptionist is out of sight, Hotch is pulling his hand back like it was chemically burning him to be attached to you. “Hey! That could hurt a girl's feelings, you know.” 

“Zoe?” He asked. “Honeymoon??” 

“So I said a tiny white lie to get in. Roy wasn’t answering my calls.” You shrug. “I lie all the time on bounties.” 

Hotch stops you from walking, stepping into your space to look you in the eye. “This isn’t a bounty, Y/N. It’s a federal investigation. This is unreasonably irresponsible and if you had been caught in your lie that’s the only thing the defense would need to call a mistrial. A serial murderer would go free because you can’t think for one second.” He’s angry, you’ve seen it before. And you want to get angry right back but for some reason the only that happens is butterflies in your stomach. 

So not the time, Y/N… you think to yourself.        

“Fine, no more lies. Only honest real investigation from now on. Scouts honor.” You say, saluting the man. He only rolls his eyes before continuing to walk down the hall. 

The two of you walk onto the editing floor where you see Roy hunched at a computer desk. He looks up and sees you, eyes widening. 

“How’re you doing, Roy?” you say. 

“How did you find me?” He asks, you scoff. 

“Finding people is literally my job description.” Hotch watches you lean back on his desk, arms folded. “You’ve been ignoring my calls, Roy.” 

“I already told you I wasn’t comfortable giving up his location to you.” 

“And I told you, it’s not for me it’s for him.” You nod, and Roy turns finally looking at Hotch. “Reaper’s back, which puts George at risk, so I’m going to need an address before Big Boy arrests you for obstruction of justice, ok?” You slide over the stack of post-it notes he had on his desk to him. “Write.”      

Roy writes silently before sliding the pad back to you. You rip off the top note and smile. “Thank you. Oh and Roy?” You lean down, so that you’re eye level to him, looking him deep in the eye so he’d know you were serious. “If I see any of what we talked about today in tomorrow’s paper… I’m going to find you, for real. And Aaron won’t be here to protect you that time. Understand?” 

The man gulps and nods. You tap him lightly on the cheek with your palm. “Always nice to see you, take care.” 

You and Hotch walk out the building together. “Was there not a better way you could’ve done that?” Hotch says. 

“That?” You ask. “That was nothing, It’s not my fault Roy is essentially a gopher.” 

“You can’t just go around making vain threats to people for information, Y/N.” 

“That’s literally how I do my job, Hottie. And I apparently do it well since I got the address.” You look at Aaron over the roof of the car. “Don’t question how I do my job, I won’t question how you do yours.” You say before getting back into the driver’s seat. 

Aaron sighed a deep sigh, looking up towards the sky. 

This was going to be a long case.

Taglist: @evyiione​ @weepingmoneywagontoad @yeah-just-ignore-me-thanks​ @dj-lowkey @zizzlekwum​ @blrthelines​ @diesinspanishbcimhispanic​

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

Hello! If you don't mind me asking, are you planning on watching House of the Dragon? I'm personally unsure about it. I was cautiously optimistic about it since D&D are not involved, but the recent casting news have been ugh disappointing imo. What do you think?

Hey anon! Sorry to say I kind of mind you asking because my inbox is still closed (to everyone except my secret Santas, which is why the ask page is accessible at all), but then I realized it’s possible if you’re on the mobile app only, you haven’t seen said note in my askbox, or my FAQ, or anything of the sort. And with older metas of mine being reblogged recently, it’s possible you may be confused. (I hope you’re on mobile only and not just ignoring my requests.) So I wanted to inform you of that... but also, y’know, I kind of wanted to make a post about the HotD cast anyway? And this ask is as good a prompt as any... so, you’re lucky, but please don’t push your luck. ;)

So, straight up: I currently have no plans to watch House of the Dragon. HBO is not getting any of my goddamn money, I don’t trust like that. And hunting down illegal livestreaming sites is a pain in the ass and I regret ever doing it for GoT, as well as regretting getting drunk every weekend enough to dampen my senses to ever tolerate that show. Yeah it’s different showrunners and writers, I know. It’s still (mostly) the same executives at HBO and even if the pervert producer is gone (or is he?), you know they still just want to sell sex and violence and dragons to an audience that thinks fantasy is for geeks.

Also, considering that Fire & Blood’s story of Dance of the Dragons has very little actual narrative or dialogue, and the historical record is deliberately untrustworthy, that gives them pretty much full rein to do whatever they like with the story and characterization and words without even being slightly obliged to GRRM at all. Furthermore, since the story is wholly political with virtually none of the magical side of ASOIAF (excepting dragons), and honestly does not have much in the way of themes or depth that main ASOIAF or even D&E has, I think it will be very hard for an adaptation to show even those brief sparks of quality that used to make me wistful GoT couldn’t be that good all the time and eventually just made me frustrated and depressed. Note I do like the history and characters of the Dance despite myself, despite its many many many textual issues, but I don’t need to see an adaptation, I have a very visual imagination. I don’t watch a lot of television to begin with, I don’t see why I should start again with this.

However, I’m not going to avoid spoilers or discussion, and I’ll probably follow the show the tumblr way, through gifsets and video clips and people bitching on their blogs etc. If, somehow, by some miracle of good screenwriting and acting, the show manages to transcend its source material, I’m sure I will be informed. And then, if and only if then, I may try watching. (Without, of course, giving HBO any of my goddamn money.) We shall see.

(Though I certainly don’t know why anyone in Targ standom would ever watch a Dance adaptation considering almost every Targaryen and everyone else in the story is terrible except Helaena and the kids, and considering how the story ends, unless y’all are gluttons for punishment? (I do not comprehend hatewatching, sorry.) It’ll probably be fun at first to see the adventures of those “precious silver douchebags” (to borrow a friend’s tag), but eventually rocks fall, everyone dies, including the girlboss you know you’ll hope the story will be changed enough that she succeeds. Just letting you know now, she won’t.)

That said. I’ve been following the casting news and I think the hate/fear/wild screaming is entirely overblown. Yeah, I know, but wait, just listen. On Friday I officially welcomed @naomimakesart to the “favorite character is now played by an actor who looks nothing like most fanart and is mostly known for wildly different roles” club. I still remember that day in September 2009 when my brother texted me “yarp”... and that right there is the thing. Yeah. Rory McCann looks very little like most pre-GoT Sandor fanart... but many fans grew to love him anyway. (There are some who never did, of course. And yeah the character went off the rails by the end, but truly, who didn’t. Having seen his audition, having spoken to him and heard him wistfully talk about book scenes he loved, I’m convinced if Rory had only been given Sandor’s actual scenes and such, he would’ve killed it. Sigh. Deep, deep sigh.)

And Rory isn’t the only one. Neither of the actors for Jaime and Cersei were considered “beautiful” enough at first. I recall very clearly people bitching about Nikolaj Coster-Waldau (about his nose particularly?) because they had wanted Tarzan-era Travis Fimmel to be Jaime. (Seeing people bitch because current-Fimmel isn’t playing Daemon made me laugh out loud for both BEYONCE?! meme -type “why would you ever cast him omg he doesn’t fit my headcanon Daemon at all”, and amazing amounts of fandom flashbacks.) Lena Headey was “too square-jawed”, “too mean-looking” (since at the beginning you should never be able to guess she’s evil), “too dark-complected”, “too mannish”, not at all attractive enough. (Tricia Helfer was the most common “but I wanted” for Cersei, btw.) And of course “they don’t remotely look like twins, ugh!” Note, there’s receipts for all of this, none of it is made up. (Unfortunately.) Those two actors are just the ones whose casting wank I recall most clearly, particularly because oh how the turn tables.

Also. You know, there’s a post with Matt Smith and Mark Simonetti’s TWOIAF Daemon going around with shrieks of horror... and I’m finding it maddening in a “am I crazy? am I  the crazy one???” way, because Matt looks like the painting. Their features are not that dissimilar.

Same deepset eyes. Same cheekbones of doom. Same thin lips. Same protruding chin. Same high forehead. Same invsible eyebrows ffs. Matt has a squarer jaw, and a longer more rectangular face, and a wider nose, but considering that Daemon’s features are not described in the text, and this is the only official ASOIAF artwork that shows Daemon’s face straight on, I can for sure see why he was probably shortlisted to begin with. And that’s not even getting into to his role in The Crown, which I’ve heard is very well played with politics and palace intrigue... and if you doubt Smith can play seductive/roguish and/or evil (depending on how you LARP as a Westeros historian), or look good with long hair... well. I do not want to watch the movie, but this trailer is disturbingly enlightening.

And as for Rhaenyra... y’all know this show is starting at the beginning of the story, right? When she’s a teenager? Not a voluptuous MILF? Yeah, Emma D’Arcy doesn’t look like a Magali Villeneueve painting (though who does, good lord), but you know who she does look remarkably like? Harry Lloyd.

Same jawline. Same nose. Same thin lips. Same sharp cheekbones. Notably, same kind of sharp cheekbones and deep-set eyes as Matt Smith. HBO evidently has a concept of a “Targaryen look” that’s a little bit quirkier than supermodel-Greek statue-gods on earth, yeah, fine. But it’s consistent, and they look like family, and that-- that is good casting.

And yeah, in a few months to a year or so, you’ll see them in costume and wigs and makeup, you’ll see them in motion and speaking lines, and go Oh. That’s different. Never mind. And while people will make fanart of the show depictions of the characters and those will probalby get popular, they’ll also keep doing fanart of their pre-show headcanons, and those too will be popular. (God knows when I draw or visualize book!Sandor, Rory does not come to mind, lol.) Either way, there’s no reason to panic. We’ll live.

(Though will we live well? Got to wait on the writing and showrunning for that, alas.)

[keverbloom]

OK Y’ALL

I recently got Covid (I was told that it was not the delta strain) and I just thought I’d share my experience. Not everyone has the same experience, but maybe talking about mine will be helpful for someone or smth idk. Long post/explanation of what I did to fight it off under the cut.

tldr: if you get exposed, get tested and reach out to people you could have spread it to. Start treating immediately after testing positive. It can be really serious or really mild and you won’t know until you get it. Be courteous and stay home if you are sick at all. Wear your mask. Wash your hands. Get your vaccine.

First things first, I scheduled an appointment to get tested and started quarantining as soon as I found out I’d been exposed. I found out on a Sunday night and got tested the next morning. As soon as I found out that my test was positive, I reached out to everyone that I was in contact with between being exposed and finding out I’d been exposed. As far as I’ve heard, none of those people have had symptoms or tested positive, thankfully. I wanted to lead with this because I think it is so important for us to continue taking this seriously and be cautious. I’m not saying you have to constantly live in fear of everyone and everything, but if you have symptoms or have been exposed, get tested. If you test positive, make sure people close to you know so that they can watch for symptoms. If you’re worried about getting tested, don’t be! I scheduled an appointment online for a drive through test at my nearest Walgreens. It was completely free and took less than 5 minutes.

Now to talk about things I did after testing positive. Like I said, the first thing I did was reach out to people I had been in contact with since being exposed. Then I started to gather things I might need and put them together in a place that would be easy for my to access even if I didn’t feel well. I have asthma so I made sure I had my inhaler nearby. I filled up all of my water bottles and put them in my fridge so I could stay hydrated easily. I started taking vitamin c, vitamin f, vitamin e, and a lung supplement called Pneumatrophin from the brand Standard Process. I took ibuprofen and dayquil as necessary. I was also using my inhaler regularly throughout the day and drinking a lot of fluids (my dad is a pharmacist and my mom is a dietitian so I got a lot of advice from them). I was told to not just focus on water, but to also drink a lot of fluids with electrolytes (gatorade, powerade, etc) and orange juice. I changed my diet a bit- cut soda out, focused on eating a lot of fruits, vegetables, and protein. At night, I would sleep on my stomach because it helps me feel like I am putting less pressure on my lungs (which seems backwards, but sleeping on my back felt absolutely smothering and I noticed I could breathe much better if I was on my side or stomach). During the day, I would take it easy, but would also try to get up and move around about once an hour. Usually it would be to get a drink or use the bathroom, but I tried to just get up and walk around a little bit regularly. Honestly, I would be exhausted after these little walks, but I would feel like I could breathe better, so it was worth it.

Now let’s talk about symptoms. I honestly was terrified and cried when I first tested positive because I’d heard so many horrible things and thought I’d have a really hard time fighting it off because of my asthma. I don’t know if it’s because I’m young (in my 20′s), because I caught it early, or because my immune system is better than I thought, but I really didn’t have horrible symptoms. I know that isn’t the case for everyone, and it certainly wasn’t pleasant, but it didn’t live up to the horror storied I’d heard. I know it can be serious and deadly (I’ll touch on this later), but my symptoms were (thankfully) not very severe. I do think it is the most sick I have ever been in my life, but I never had to go to the hospital or doctor. I got tested and then I stayed home until I got better. I think I would have ended up doing a video call appointment with a doctor or getting retested to make sure I wasn’t sick anymore, but I didn’t need to because I’m a dependent of someone in the military. So I had military nurses calling me every few days to document my symptoms and give me tips/instructions (I did not ask them to do this, they had to because I tested positive but it was appreciated). For me, my symptoms started with fatigue and headaches. After a few days, I started getting a cough, which got consistently worse and has actually not fully gone away yet. I had little to no appetite for most of the day and found that saltines and apples were about all I could handle eating in the mornings and evenings for the first 3-4 days. I had a runny/stuffy nose for a few days. I never had a fever. I never lost my sense of taste, but I did lose my sense of smell for a few days. A few days before I hit 2 weeks (since starting symptoms) I got a call from the military nurse. He went through my symptoms with me and then said that based on them I was no longer considered contagious and I didn’t need to quarantine anymore. I personally felt like my cough was still bad enough that I didn’t want to leave the house just yet and I have the luxury of being my own boss and setting my own schedule, so I put off working for a week (and will probably take another week or two off honestly, we’ll see what happens with this cough). I started working on disinfecting everything in my apartment, which took much longer than I initially expected since I’m definitely still recovering and don’t have as much energy as I normally do. Every day is just a little bit better though, so it’s just a matter of time.

Now to talk about how I got exposed in the first place. My family lives on the other side of the country, hadn’t seen me in a year, and came to visit. They’ve been extremely careful during the entire pandemic and genuinely didn’t think that they had been exposed. They spent an entire week with me before my mom started showing symptoms. As soon as she started getting symptoms, she wore a mask at all times, stayed in their hotel room, and kept her distance from me and the rest of my family as much as possible. She got tested, the results came back positive, and my family started driving back home (they were advised by hospital staff to do so) and me and my husband scheduled our tests. My mom found out after flying across the country that both of her parents, some of her siblings, a handful of her nieces and nephews, and one of her friends had all tested positive and that another one of her friends was in the hospital on a ventilator. My mom hadn’t been around her family recently because they’d all gone on a trip together that my mom thought was too risky (especially given that her family leans more anti-vax and anti-mask). However, she had felt obligated to go to her boss’ birthday party despite not feeling like it would be planned for safety (that crowd also leans anti-vax and anti-mask. She lives in a very conservative area). Once my family finished driving home, she was able to talk to people and figure out what happened. At her boss’ birthday party, their mutual friend, we’ll call him Jimmy, was hacking up a storm. My mom didn’t notice this as she was avoiding Jimmy because she doesn’t like him (lots of drama we don’t have time to unpack right now). Jimmy tends to be extreme in everything he does and thinks so he was telling people that even though he had a cough he deserved to still be at the party and shouldn’t have to wear a mask. He’s the friend who was on a ventilator in the hospital and three other people from that party have been hospitalized with Covid because of him. Which leads me to a point I really want to make:

IF YOU ARE SICK WITH ANYTHING, NOT JUST COVID, DO EVERYONE A FAVOR AND STAY HOME. ALSO, WEAR YOUR DAMN MASK PLEASE.

Now let’s talk about vaccines. My husband has been vaccinated (Pfizer) for a few months now. Despite sharing a bed, bathroom, and kitchen with me (no other options, we have a tiny apartment) while I was sick for almost 2 weeks, after being exposed for a week while my family visited, he never had any symptoms and kept testing negative. I’ve seen a lot of people on my dash lately saying that they don’t want the vaccine because you can still get covid if you’re vaccinated. Sure, you can, BUT YOU COULD ALSO NOT GET SICK. I don’t understand why people who are capable of getting vaccinated refuse to. I have a myriad of health problems that prevent me from getting vaccines and I feel so absolutely helpless because I have to trust/depend on everyone else to get vaccinated so that I can benefit from herd immunity and there are so many people straight up refusing to get it because of all the misinformation out there. Which scares me! Because I rely on those people to stay healthy! And they aren’t doing their part! And there’s nothing I can do to keep myself healthy! (I mean, besides having good hygiene, wearing masks, and being very careful about where I go and how long I’m out, all of which I do) It’s so infuriating!

So uhhhh in conclusion GET VACCINATED PLEASE.

tldr: if you get exposed, get tested and reach out to people you could have spread it to. Start treating immediately after testing positive. It can be really serious or really mild and you won’t know until you get it. Be courteous and stay home if you are sick at all. Wear your mask. Wash your hands. Get your vaccine.

[nanoland]

Title: Besyd the scarcety of bread amowngst us

Fandom: Supernatural 

Pairing: Crowley/Dean Winchester

Summary: In which Dean asks a question.

Warnings: Crowley being Extremely traumatized and kind of oblivious to that fact + SPN demons being SPN demons (i.e. remorseless bodysnatchers) + Dean being his casually misogynistic self + graphic descriptions of starvation + exhibitionism (sorta?) + sexually explicit content because this was MEANT to be straightforward smut and then Crowley happened, the prick.

Also on AO3!

0  

“So how come you aren’t a hot chick?”

The glass stills an inch from Crowley’s pale lips. “I humbly beg your pardon?”

It’s late. The bar’s quiet. He doesn’t need Dean to repeat himself. Just a moment to decide on a response.

Well on the way to utterly shit-faced, Dean gestures vaguely, meaninglessly. “You offer people stuff. Then, ten years later, you drag ‘em to Hell. And – and they know that’s what’s gonna happen if they make a deal with you. Which means that you gotta be real fuckin’ persuasive. Which you are. Grade A Bullshit Artist and don’t I know it. But... uh, what was I gonna… yeah, wouldn’t it be easier, right, just way easier if you were a hot chick?”

Crowley can tell he’s not done, so he keeps his silver tongue behind his faintly yellowed teeth for the moment.

While Dean is usually delightful company, in his surly, macho way, this evening there’s an uncommonly obnoxious edge to everything he says. That almost certainly means his insecurities over what he’s been letting Crowley do to his arse lately are acting up.

Understandable. Still annoying.

So Crowley’s more than willing to let his favourite human dig himself a wee bit deeper before pouring boiling tar into the pit.

After quickly throwing back the last of his drink, Dean goes on: “Now, I didn’t go to some dickslurp business school. I ain’t that brand of asshole. But I’ve seen enough beer ads in my time to have an idea of how marketing works. You got something you want people to buy? Fastest way is to get a hot chick in a bikini to hold it up. Because guys have most of the money in this shitty world of ours and guys think with their dicks. I know I do. So why did you decide to possess someone who looks like a balding, middle-aged banker going through a stressful divorce? That ain’t enticing. That ain’t capturing anyone’s interest. Y’know?”

“Mm,” says Crowley, and stands up.

“Fuck’re you doing?” Dean slurs, watching him take off his tie.

“Ever heard of the Seven Ill Years, Squirrel?”

“Nope. Seriously, what’re you doing?”

Draping his overcoat over the back of his chair along with his tie, Crowley sets about taking off his jacket. “‘The Seven Ill Years’ refers to a particularly shitty time in early modern Scotland; the 1690s.”

He tugs off his costly leather shoes and places them side-by-side under his chair. “I was in my… early thirties at the time, I think. Thirty-two? Maybe thirty-one. Whatever.”

Dean is gaping now. He’s never seen Crowley without his outer layers, much less the growing slice of exposed chest as Crowley unbuttons his shirt.

“For a lot of complicated reasons relating to oceanic thermohaline circulation, solar activity, and a few ill-timed volcanos, the weather turned rotten. These days, it’s called the Little Ice Age. Us pigshit stupid peasants who lived through it didn’t know anything about all that. All we knew was that it was freezing bloody cold and the crops kept dying.”

“Dude,” Dean hisses, red-faced as Crowley sets his shirt alongside his jacket and overcoat. “Stop it! We’re going to be thrown out!”

“No. Look around. Is anyone paying attention to us? Precisely. We’re invisible to them at the moment, Squirrel. One of my little tricks.”

“Oh. Okay, that’s good. But that’s still not an excuse to take your fucking pants off in public oh my God oh my God!”

They’re expensive pants and Crowley takes care to fold them before putting them down. “To cut a long story short; famine struck. And famine, it’s…”

Crowley pauses, thinking, ignoring Dean’s pathetic attempts not to gawk at his dick.

“It’s hard to describe famine to someone who hasn’t lived through one,” he says eventually. “Language – English, at least – isn’t equipped to convey what it feels like to be so hungry you’ll try to boil and eat someone else’s shoes. Then someone else’s children. Then your own children. There are no words for it. Or, if in some distant corner of our monstrous universe there are, then they’re words that would drive a human raving mad to speak them.”

Naked now but for his black socks, Crowley scratches his stubble. “Sometimes I think that’s why I got on so well in Hell.”

He sits back in his chair. Folds his legs. Taps his fingers on the side of his empty glass. “Don’t get me wrong; having someone cut open your lungs, fill them with scorpions, and sew them up again isn’t fun. But – how can I put this? – you can process it. You can grapple with it. You know why you’re suffering; because you’re in Hell, and that’s what Hell is for. It makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is going about your everyday life and watching all the people around you – the baker, the priest, the prettiest girl in the village – go about theirs while they turn into walking skeletons. And knowing they didn’t do anything to deserve it. Couldn’t have done anything to deserve it, because no crime, no matter how vile, warrants that kind of punishment.”

Dean says nothing.

After a moment, Crowley pulls himself from the dark, sucking well of memory to add, “Anyway, to answer your question; I don’t want to be a hot chick because a. I’m a man and b. hot chicks are skinny, and I will cheerfully burn this world to the ground before I endure living in a hungry body ever again.”

He glances down at his unclothed meat suit and smiles proudly, running a hand up one of its thick thighs. “Also – y’know – I personally think this long-deceased lad of mine is sexy as Hell.”

Gazing at his shoulder, Dean says roughly, “Didn’t know you had tattoos.”

“Oh. Those. Yeah. Can’t stand them. Worst decision the stupid bastard ever made.”

“I think they’re kinda cool.”

“Do you? Well, you do have incredibly bad taste so perhaps that’s not surprising. Now, are you going to get over here and put that erection to good use?”

Oh, bless him; he’s adorable when he squirms.

“Here?” Dean asks, eyes wide.

“Here.”

He says it like a challenge, for Dean can never resist one of those. Immediately, those wide eyes become narrow and determined.

The boy stands. Looms over Crowley, who casually flicks both their glasses to the floor and moves to sit on the cool wooden table. It’s clean, more or less, thanks to Dean (for once) agreeing to follow Crowley to a semi-respectable establishment.

“These hands,” Crowley murmurs, running them across Dean’s broad chest, “don’t have a single callous or scar. See? Soft as butter. Not a single day’s honest work, either of them.”

Dean swallows. Leans in to kiss him, hesitant and gentle.

Contrary to popular belief, Crowley likes gentle. Or, more accurately, Crowley likes being pampered.

He goes on: “And these legs…”

A groan escapes Dean’s lips as one presses up against his crotch.

“…these legs haven’t walked more than ten miles, collectively, since I moved in. No muscles. No blisters on the undersides of their feet. Not so much as a splinter.”

“Jesus,” Dean mumbles, drawing him in and latching onto his neck.

“And this stomach is never empty. Never even close. Never once forced to digest anything that isn’t purely, perfectly delicious. I treat my meat suits better than most people treat their family heirlooms.”

“Crowley. Fuck.”

He squeezes Dean’s arse and growls, “Because this is my reward, Dean. I won this. This softness, this safety. This nurtured, nourished flesh. I endured the seventeenth century and all humanity’s horrors. Endured my mother. Endured Hell. Built myself a reputation and a kingdom. All for this. And isn’t it wonderful? Say that it is, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean moans, even though he can’t understand a word; Crowley slipped into Gaelic a while ago.

(The things Crowley wants to tell Dean and the things Crowley wants Dean to know are categories that rarely overlap.)

Crowley takes Dean’s leaking cock in hand.

“Say I’m beautiful.”

Dean’s knees buckle as he whimpers, so Crowley wraps an arm around his narrow, underfed waist.

“Say you love me.”

Dean comes in his palm, gasping and cursing.

“Say you love me more than anyone else.”

“I’m guessing that was all Scottish dirty talk?” says Dean when he has his breath back. “You were – what? Calling me your bitch?”

Crowley smirks, licks the sweat off Dean’s jaw, and gives his backside a pat before reaching for his clothes. “None of your business. Go get me another drink, would you? Ta.”

 the end

NOTES: The title is taken from a quote found in Karen Cullen’s ‘Famine in Scotland: the ‘Ill Years’ of the 1690s’ (you can find extracts via googlebooks). Yes, canonically Crowley WOULD have been about thirty when this happened. Just in case his origin story wasn’t horrific enough wheee :D

[anika-ann]

The Best Mistake of My Life - Pt.4

The Right (Dance) Partner

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 4510

Summary: A soulmate AU. They say having a soulmate is a blessing. Who wouldn’t love the idea of star-crossed lovers, right?

You are asked to dance and Steve is not the only one. Ah-oh.

Warnings: swearing, FLUFF, Steve’s friends being Steve’s friends… go figure

Story masterlist

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Your dance technique was far from perfect; dancing with Steve was everything though. He held you securely, one of his arms around your waist, his other hand holding yours, his body not pressed against you completely, but close enough, his eyes attentively glued to you as if no one else existed.

You felt special. You felt beautiful. You felt adored. And all of that thanks to him.

You wouldn’t have even noticed another song ended if it wasn’t for the large figure tapping on Steve’s shoulder. He turned his head, surprised. You, on the other hand, gulped in fright. The man was huge. You had a good guess who that was. Trouble?

“Captain. May I borrow your dance partner?”

Oh, definitely trouble.

Steve gaped a bit, exchanging a puzzled look with you. He was asking whether you would allow it, you realized.

You had no clue. Then again, what was the worst thing that could happen? It could be awkward, sure, but you would try your best not to make an ass of yourself. Unlike with Mr.Stark. Let’s never talk about that again.

You nodded inconspicuously and Steve sighed.

“All yours,” he whispered, sounding like he didn’t want to give you up at all. It warmed you up, especially in your belly. He wanted you with him. He didn’t want to give you away. God bless him.

He shuffled away, catching your gaze one more time to make you were okay without him. Well, you were okay, but would be better with him.

“My lady. I am Thor Odinson of Asgard. It would be my pleasure to have this dance. May I?”

His voice was thundering as if he was a God of Thunder himself indeed, but you could tell he was trying his best not to intimidate you. Well, you could appreciate the effort, no matter how vain.

You blinked in shock when he placed his palm on his chest and gave you a tiny bow. Holy shit, Asgard – a planet, as you had learned from Steve – grew their men with extraordinary manners. Huh.

You shyly revealed your name, earning a smile from the god and a light kiss on the back of your hand; it reminded you of the second (or was it first and halfth?) meeting with Steve. Your heart skipped a beat at the memory and you realized that no matter how charming this man seemed, your heart already belonged to someone else; not that you had ever gave consent, it just… happened.

Steve had broad shoulders of which you thought could carry the weight of the world (and you had a hunch that sometimes they did), but as Thor enveloped you for a dance, you had to admit that his shoulders were as if they belonged to Atlas himself. He was so freaking huge.

“Lady mine, tell me. Do you like the feast brother Anthony prepared?”

Who the heck talked like that? Steve sometimes slipped, sounding like from an old movie, sometimes revealing Brooklyn slang from his time, but man, this was something else.

“I… yes. He… certainly put a lot of effort into it,” you babbled, automatically adjusting to his speech.

“Lady Potts is a great help for him in feats like these. I must say our celebrations are rather different, but I am impressed nevertheless.”

“Oh. What do your celebrations look like?” you heard yourself asking, actually intrigued.

A laugh bubbled in his throat as he spun you. “You would consider them too savage, I believe.”

You had no idea how to react to that. So you just hummed indecisively.

“I am certain someone has told you tonight, but you look very beautiful.”

You started at him, nearly faltering in your steps that weren’t even proper steps. Did he just… did he compliment you? An Asgardian? A demigod? Holy shit. Ryan was going to freak out about as much as you were freaking out at the moment.

“T-thank you,” you stuttered, too taken aback to sound like a normal person.

“You’re very welcome, my lady.”

The rest of the dance – rather short, thankfully – was more or less silent. You had to admit you enjoyed meeting Thor and dancing with him, but there was still the fact he was… a demigod apparently and that left you a bit uneasy. You mentally sighed in relief when the song ended.

Which was a mistake. Because Tony Stark took Thor’s place.

Shit.

You genuinely considered saying no when he asked for a dance; except Thor basically shoved you into Stark’s arms with a grin and a nod and you couldn’t quite back away. Well. You had handled your latest dentist’s appointment. Couldn’t be worse than pulling your teeth of wisdom, right?

"So… you have eyes on Cap?" was his first attempt at conversation and you realized you counted your chickens before they hatched. You groaned internally.

And then, your sassy side came to life as if challenged. You didn’t fight it and held your head high, swallowing your nervousness.

"No, Mr.Stark. I have my eyes focused on my dance partner, which happens to be you at the moment."

You would swear his eyebrows rose and you couldn’t even see it over his mask.

"You're cheeky for a chick I could get kicked out for not being invited," he noted, tilting his head to side as he was probably trying to figure you out.

You felt naked and it was not a pleasant feeling like when Steve was looking at you. Nope, sir.

"I might not be on the list, but I was invited," you opposed, ignoring the knot twisting in your stomach slowly.

Get it together, woman! You deal with people coming to your office every day! You met worse.

"By Romanoff," he stated and you couldn’t hide your smirk, finding you might actually indulge in the game of a mysterious woman.

"You could say that."

"She said you weren't a spy, but now I'm doubting it. You have a great ability not to spill beans. One might call you sneaky. Maybe you're a politician," he joked, eyes still calculating.

"Or a Stark from what I heard," you shot back, horror striking you right after. Shit. Too much. "Sorry, that was out of line."

But the billionaire only scoffed, spinning you. Was that an attempt on a smile on his face? "You're trouble, miss ‘Romanoff Got Me In.’"

"So I've heard."

"What you do for living?" he continued his interrogation and an exclamation sign lighted up in your head in warning.

"I tell you and you'll know who I am immediately. I know how much tech and databases you have."

You had an idea at least. After all, if Natasha wasn’t lying, she had found you and identified you as Steve’s soulmate thanks to one of those.

"Huh. You're smart," he… complimented you, you guessed, and you mentally yayed. Better than nothing.

"Not smart enough, given the fact that I let S- someone to convince me to come here." And meet you.

He quirked up. "So there's someone else involved."

"Maybe."

"Can't be Rogers.” You nearly broke your cover right then. He sounded so sure it made you want to laugh. “Too much of a boy scout. So who-"

"The boy scout would like his dance partner back,” sounded behind you and your lips automatically curled up in a smile.

"Hush, I want one more. It's not like you marked her to show off she belongs to you or something," Stark challenged, his arm tightening his grip.

Oh-oh. You couldn’t see Steve, but you had a hunch he was not going to share with Stark anymore, provoked by both his attitude and words. The question was, how would he convince him to let you go? You had an idea, but…

"Actually, I did."

You spun to stare at Steve, shocked that he actually said it so openly. That you didn’t see coming.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Stark demanded, his gaze flickering between the two of you.

Well. You might as well adjust to Steve’s play. Hell, you had already been playing a bit. You pushed the wide strap of your dress aside to reveal Steve's neat handwriting, his first words to you on your skin.

Stark immediately went to examine it – you couldn't help but quickly cover it before he could actually read it. Steve’s hand appeared on your lower back, slightly turning you over to him with the lightest of pressure. Stark seemed to shocked to fight him.

"Now if you excuse us. They're playing our song."

“Thank you for the dance, Mr.Stark,” you smiled over your shoulder before fully facing Steve, delighted to see him.

“Sure, whatever…”

Another slow song started and you were pulled into the only arms you wanted to be in tonight.

“Thanks for the save,” you said, honestly grateful.

“Didn’t look like you needed one,” he stated, sounding slightly astounded.

“…sorry. Did I… was I rude? I was rude, wasn’t I? Oh god-“

He leaned in with a smile, his lips catching your hair. Well that was new. A very pleasant new. You closed your eyes at the tender sensation.

“Tony needs someone to play verbal ping-pong with him. You held your ground perfectly. I’m proud of you, to be honest.”

You looked up, surprised. “…really?”

“Yes. Even Natasha seemed to be amused when I told her some of your comebacks.”

Your cheeks burned with that announcement. He heard? All of it? And interpreted it to Romanoff? “I thought your hearing was just a little better than average.”

“Just enough to hear you,” he soothed you, his hand on your waist softly caressing. “You met the most handful ones. Bruce is going to be alright and Clint… well, Natasha will make him behave. You did it, you met my friends. And you handled it just fine. You’re wonderful.”

Steve seemed so genuinely amazed again, as if you were the most wondrous person he had ever met. You curled closer to him, testing the waters. “I admit I was a bit intimidated… okay, a lot.”

“Really? Didn’t look like it at all.”

“Must have been the champagne I had,” you admitted with a self-depreciating chuckle. “Liquid courage and all that…. What?”

“I think you have enough courage even without having a drink. The more I know about you… the more you amaze me.”

“Steve…”

His thumb hesitantly stroked the exposed skin of your cheek, the touch turning firmer yet still soft when your lips parted and your breath hitched. He was so careful with physical affection, small steps like this always taking you by surprise. But a very pleasant surprise – with how gently he treated you, you felt… precious. It was an indescribable feeling, filling you with euphoria, your heart bursting with joy. You wished to let Steve know how much you appreciated him already, but any time you tried, he just took your breath away with something even… more, making any attempt of yours look pale in comparison.

His blue eyes bored into yours, holding your gaze as if the spacious room full of people didn’t exist. His thumb moved painfully slowly to your lower lip, causing you to gasp.

“I’d really like to kiss you right now. You’d mind?”

You couldn’t breathe. You died. You were sure of it. His fingertip was still on your lips, sending jolts of electricity down your spine and all you wanted was him to replace it with his mouth. You nearly screamed the obvious answer to his question.

“No,” you whispered instead, unable to expand your chest with air, aching with anticipation. “Wouldn’t mind at all, Steve.”

He leaned in with one quick movement as if he was afraid you’d change your mind. Yeah, nope. Still, he hesitated an inch from your lips, giving you the last chance to retreat. Once again, nope.

You swallowed awkwardly loudly, licked your lips and met his before he could back out, which was a real concern, because so far you had barely made it to you kissing his cheek.

His hand was still on your face, cradling your jaw tenderly, his warm lips once again reluctant on yours, the lightest of touches. You closed your eyes, indulging the feeling. You didn’t see stars, but you could feel them in your veins when he added a little pressure, dancing with your lips in synch. You sneaked one of your hands to his chest, feeling his rapidly beating heart under your palm. Yours wasn’t any slower, but you had no care in the world. Only the fact that he was reacting to you this way mattered and that his lips were still on yours, his fingers curling around your nape. Your own clutched his suit jacket in response, returning you to reality at the same time.

Suit jacket. Party. People.

You parted from his mouth, fighting for some air, but didn’t let more than few inches between you. You were glad you were in his arms, because your legs got a bit wobbly and how the hell was he affecting you this much?

“Sorry,” Steve rasped, voice husky. “I got a bit… carried away.”

You shook your head, still out of breath, hungrily drinking in his scent as your forehead rested against his chest carefully for a second to regain your composure. Only then you retreated and opened your eyes.

“You can get carried away more often.”

When you looked up, you could see the corners of his mouth raised inconspicuously. His fingers trailed down, back to your waist.

“Deal. But not where all of my friends can see.”

Your belly caught fire at that premise and you quickly pecked his lips once more to seal the deal.

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“Did Rogers just make out on the dance floor?” Clint blurred out, exasperated. “You owe me an explanation, Tasha!”

“They’re soulmates,” Tony hummed, appearing out of nowhere, sounding smug. Natasha raised a challenging eyebrow. "You knew that too?!"

"I found her. Cool software you developed, by the way."

“I’m sorry, did you use my software to find Spangles’ soulmate? How?”

“Not my place to say,” she shrugged casually, but gave everyone around her – Clint, Bruce and Tony – a pointed look hinting them to leave it alone.

“He looks happy,” Bruce noted instead then, earning a smile from the redhead.

“He is. She’s good for him.”

“You know way too much, Romanoff. So, are we meeting her, the whole team together or what?” Tony whined, glancing the direction of the lovebirds as if he wanted to march to them and demand a proper introduction right now.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “The afterparty in our small circle. The sooner you end this monstrosity, the sooner you get to meet her officially.”

“Let’s end it right now then,” Tony decided, already making his way to the podium and Clint snorted at his behaviour.

“He hates you knew this before him. I’m surprised you didn’t tell me, though…”

“It’s new, Clint. And they deserve a little privacy,” she explained easily, which drew a resigned sigh from the archer – an involuntary agreement.

They were interrupted by Tony taking the microphone. “Alright, kids, time to wrap it up. Old man has other duties tonight too. Enjoy the fireworks, they start in a minute. Goodnight.”

“He’s such a man-child,” Natasha commented, rolling her eyes good-naturedly.

“Ah, come on, Tasha. Didn’t you hear all men are children? Let’s see the fireworks…”

Clint was already gone when she turned to follow him.

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If you were being honest, you did notice Steve watching you instead of the fireworks, just like you didn’t miss the tension in his shoulders at the loud bangs of explosions; he looked as if he was expecting an attack.

You, on the other hand, didn’t expect one and it came.

One moment you felt his eyes on you and the next, Steve was kissing the living daylights of you, stealing your breath. You had no idea how long it took for the two of you to part.  You spent the rest of the ‘surprise’ dizzy, in a strange and very pleasant haze, leaning onto his side. Maybe you were getting too cuddly, the alcohol you had playing a role, but he didn’t seem to mind, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you just where you had nestled. And to be fair, he had started it, alright.

You were beaming and didn’t care one bit if you looked like an idiot.

The guests left the party rather quickly after the fireworks, Stark’s earlier words effective. You stood with Steve on the balcony until the room cleared, moving inside when it was only the Avengers remaining. They took off their masks (as if those had been ever working and actually disguised their identity), settling on couches standing in circle in the upper part of the room.

Steve took your hand then, smiling encouragingly, and led you to the lion’s den. You weren’t that afraid, to be honest. You had met most of the team anyway.

“Thanks for the party, Tony. And the fireworks,” Steve nodded to his friend and the billionaire just waved it off.

“We all know it’s mostly Pepper who always executes my brilliant ideas,” he stated, oh so humble.

“I’m sure you can take a lot of credit, Mr.Stark. It was stunning, especially the end,” you added, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you got all of sudden.

Mr.Stark squinted, watching Steve half-amused, half-exasperated. “Well, I’d say the birthday boy seemed to find other things quite stunning during the fireworks, don’t you think?”

You felt the heat colour your skin at the idea of him watching you two kissing. You didn’t mind a little public display of affection, but it was still new territory for you and Steve. He seemed embarrassed too.

“Ignore him, he’s being a dick. Let’s introduce officially so he can stop pretending to be offended,” Natasha hummed and you smiled at her gratefully.

"Good plan. Now mask off, Sassy Queen."

"Watch it, Stark," Steve hissed at your side, stripping his mask. It calmed you, seeing his protective side. You instantly knew that he hadn’t been lying when saying that it wouldn’t truly matter if the Avengers didn’t warm up to you immediately – he would stay with you either way.

“Fair warning, I had this on my face the whole evening and I might look like a cartoon monster…”

Doctor Banner snorted at that, causing Mr.Barton to chuckle and you realized your mistake, quickly putting the mask away.

“You look just fine,” Steve assured you, smiling at you radiantly.

You took a deep breath, scanning the company. These were Steve’s friends. And the Earth’s mightiest heroes. No pressure. You cleared your throat, revealing your name and then took time to shake hands with each of the member of the team.

"Mr. Barton-“

“Clint. Nice to meet you,” he said evenly, his grip firm but kind. He seemed genuinely pleased to meet you.

“Doctor Banner. Uhm, sorry about the inappropriate remark earlier-”

“It’s Bruce. Don’t worry about it.”

You gave him a tight smile. “Thank you. Uhm, Mr. Stark…”

“Oh no. I’m not gonna tell you to call me Tony. You were pushing it. And you stole Capsicle’s virtue-“

“Oh please, Tony. You loved her sassy mouth. Now tune it down, we don’t want to scare Cap’s girl away,” Clint scolded him, winking at you right after. You grinned at him.

“Ouch. Betrayal. Fine, I’m Tony. Not too bad to meet you. Also, looks like someone else likes your sassy mouth.”

“Tony…” Steve sighed, giving him a disappointed look and you rather moved on, nodding at Natasha.

“Natasha.”

“Glad you got it right,” she smirked, leaving you to the last team member. The alien one.

Suddenly, you didn’t know what to do with your hands. A handshake seemed a bit inappropriate. So, intelligently, you did something that resembled an awkward curtsey. “Thor."

The king of Asgard looked impressed and you could feel Steve’s eyes on you, shining; they narrowed when Thor took your hand and kissed your knuckles for the second time that evening.

"Watch it, Thor, you might get punched if you're not careful," Tony snarked, but the god just laughed.

"Oh no. I have no intention to come between brother Steven and his lady, no matter how enchanting she is. It was not visible in the crowd, but I can see the brightness of their soul bond now."

Your hand fell slackly to your side when he said the words, your whole body frozen with shock.

"Soul bond?" Steve questioned softly, moving closer to your side, arm sneaking around your waist possessively.

"I can see with more than my eyes,” he informed you. “And yours and Steven's souls are truly gravitating when near each other. Do not be alarmed at such occurrence. It is a good sign, mark of a strong and healthy binding."

"No pressure," Clint uttered, while Tony murmured “Kinky,” making you blush furiously and Natasha roll her eyes.

“Alright, stop torturing the poor lovebirds,” she came to your rescue then. “Why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself?”

“I’m game,” Clint exclaimed, falling onto a couch. “Please, tell us. Don’t make us aim a bed lamp to your face…”

You giggled at his easy tone, obediently taking a seat, nestling next to Steve.

Soon, the talk moved onto different topics as well, the others actually joining the conversation, putting you at ease. Too much of an ease; after such a long evening, your eyelids started to close on their own and every time you blinked them open, it was harder to keep them that way.

“Hey, Cap, I think you’re gonna have a girl in for a sleepover,” someone pointed out with hushed voice, which caused you to jolt awake.

Mild laugh erupted around the room.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, tongue heavy, and you climbed to your feet. You could feel Steve’s hands hovering over you as you swayed. Damn your sleepy balance. “I’ll go.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can have my bed. And if you don’t want to, there is a spare room somewhere, right, Tony?” Steve more stated than asked, sending your heart racing. His bed?

“Well, I’m kinda tempted to say no and see where it goes if she sleeps in yours…”

Your head snapped to him in perfect sync with Steve’s.

“Tony!”

You bit your cheek, unsure what to think of the horror in Steve’s voice. “’s fine. I’ll call a cab.”

“No, you won’t,” Steve protested softly. “You okay with my bed?”

“Haven’t seen your bed…” you pointed out, words slurring a bit. “ ’Zit comfy?”

“Aww…”

“Alright, let’s go,” Steve swept you off your feet right into his arms, a startled yelp erupting from your chest, your hands immediately clutching his shoulders. Where had he lost the jacket? The shirt was freaking hot and the seams on it seemed to cry around his arms. It was nice. Really, really nice.

“Thanks, doll, but let’s agree you tell me later,” he pleaded lowly and given the fact everyone laughed, you were sure you said at least some of the praises out loud. Oh.

“ ‘kay. Night, guys…”

“Goodnight. Hey, I hope you’re staying for tomorrow’s game afternoon and movie night!” Clint cried after you, making you squint as your mind tried to remember. Had they talked about that earlier? You couldn’t recall.

“Uh-huh…” you hummed indecisively, burying your head in the crook of Steve’s neck as he carried you away. Jeez, he didn’t look bothered by your weight at all. What a neat trick. However, you could feel his muscles shifting with each step, clenching deliciously. “You’re strong.”

“Yeah, that was the point of the serum,” he whispered to your hair and as you giggled at his joke, your sense of balance messed up when the both of you suddenly went down. Where did you get into an elevator?

“Good job then…”

The rest of the journey was silent and before you knew it, you were being gently lowered to soft cushions. They felt like heaven, fluffy foam of clouds, but you liked Steve’s warm embrace better. You liked Steve better, period.

A kiss landed on your forehead with a silent chuckle. “I like you too.”

You were suddenly warm all over. Steve liked you too. Yay! He was the sweetest and the best and he liked you! You were suddenly so sure he would like the humble gift you had got him and was still sitting in your nightstand. You should have brought it with you, but you were such a chicken about his reaction in front of everyone… now it seemed silly. Steve wouldn’t be anything but thankful for you thinking about him…

“That I would, even when I told you not to buy me anything. Get some sleep, doll. I’ll be right here on the couch if you need me, okay?” he coaxed, brushing your hair from your face.

Did you… say that out loud? And did he mention staying right here? Until morning?

Yeah, dummy, that’s the purpose of a sleepover. You know that.

You groaned as you sobered up a bit. “I should change and remove my make-up. Promise not to scream when you see me. You have a spare toothbrush?”

“I do.”

Steve lent you a pair of shorts and a t-shirt instead of a pyjama too and soon you were tucked in the covers, facing the bathroom door, waiting for him to emerge. You were painfully sleepy, but you had to resist for a while longer.

Surprise was written all over his face when he found you still awake. Also, he had no shirt. Your first thought when seeing his ridiculously perfect abs and bare arms in their whole glory was ‘god bless America’. The second was never mind, even the better.

“Hey, is something wrong?” he worried and you nodded solemnly. “What is it?”

“The bed’s too big,” you whispered, making him frown in confusion.

“Don’t know what to do about that…”

You rolled your eyes, moving to make space for him on the side closer to his perfectly baffled form. “Use your imagination, Rogers.”

His mouth formed a small ‘o’, no sound coming out.

“Please? You’re warm. And I want to cuddle. Pleeease?” you whined, not caring you probably sounded like a needy bitch.

You weren’t lying. Sure, Steve wore a pair of pyjama pants and nothing to cover his torso, which, yummy, but you honestly meant no funny business. You just wanted to sleep with your sweet soulmate in reach. That was all. For now.

“You sure?”

“Very. Come here, Steve. I’ll be a gentleman, promise,” you swore with a tired smile, breaking into a content grin when he slipped into the covers with hushed laughter. “Thank you. And thanks for tonight. Was nice.”

“Yeah,” he breathed weakly, his hand finding yours.

You melted at the gesture, but you needed more. Eyes on his face to observe his reaction, you scooted closer, carefully laying your head on his chest.

God, you could die a happy woman when his arm wrapped around you. When he kissed your hair and whispered a goodnight, you contentedly closed your eyes and drifted to sleep in no time.

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Part 5

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Tags:

@cxptain​ @mermaidxatxheart @smilexcaptainx , @murdermornings​@irepostthingsiwanttoseelater , @polarcrystall​ @eliza5616​, @rayofdawnworld  @victor-criss-bish​ @skychild29​  @elysianecho​ @simmisblog​ @scentedsongrebel​ @orions-nebula​, @sergeantrosabellaswan​ @songofcosplay​, @ilovesupersoldiers​ @wxstedhexrt @silver-winter-wolf​

Tags open, if anyone is interested ;) In case anyone wants out ( :( ), lemme know too.

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I’m sure you figured that this whole installment is a fluffy mess with attempt at humour. You’ll have to stick around if you want more plot ;) Thank you for reading!

[mostlymovieswithmax]

Movies I watched in September

I skipped a month again. But not to worry. This is a wrap-up of all the movies I watched in the month of September (2021). I think I maintained a steady ratio throughout but perhaps there’s not as much on the list this time because I wanted to get on with other things, be that work-wise or just trying to get out to the beach as much as possible and make the most of the last dregs of summertime. I went swimming in the sea a lot! But I also got to catch the new James Wan movie, Malignant (twice!) as well as the new James Bond, No Time To Die. Not to mention a couple of classics! My hope again with this list is to introduce people to new movies that they may otherwise not have seen or perhaps have never have heard of. These short reviews are my own subjective opinions on each individual movie. I’m thinking maybe a more informal approach to movie criticism can help include others who are just passing through. So here is every film I watched from the 1st to the 30th of September.

Fanny and Alexander (1982) - 8/10

Coming from Ingmar Bergman, I was surprised to see just how warm this was. I’m a big fan of the Swedish director and while this isn’t my favourite from him (perhaps due to it needing a second watch, or the fact I watched it in three chunks because it’s about three hours long and I overestimated how much time I had in the day) it’s still an interesting departure from what I’ve come to expect from him. Fanny and Alexander is a dreamy Christmassy movie that presents an overarching theme of love, spending a large portion of its runtime just hanging out with this big family on Christmas and showing how close they are. I would love to watch this again at some point in December and see how my opinion shifts but for now, while it could meandre in places, I can’t deny how unique a movie it is.

Another Round (2021) - 10/10

I had seen Thomas Vinterberg’s latest film before this point but this was the first time I got to see it in a cinema. Luckily for me my local independent cinema was showing it one night and while they had a few technical hiccups with setting everything up, the movie itself was still fantastic. Following a handful of school teachers who experiment with whether they can maintain a certain level of blood alcohol throughout the day, Another Round demonstrates a sense of unease and sadness throughout an otherwise comedic tone. These emotions are balanced perfectly, boosting an already intriguing concept that examines our relationship with alcohol from every angle.

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings (2021) - 4/10

Straight after Another Round, I made my way to the chain cinema to meet up with friends to see the new Marvel movie. At this point, having had my second dose of the Covid vaccine that morning, I was starting to feel the effects and I was not doing well. But I watched the movie anyway, all the while wanting to be in bed. Shang-Chi was massively underwhelming and I’d go as far as to say it was even incompetent. Truth be told,  I like the Marvel Cinematic Universe but from the get-go I already wasn’t hyped for this movie and I was expecting it to be about mediocre but what I got was something a lot worse. I won’t rehash what I’ve already said on this film so if you want to hear me rant about it a bit then I would recommend checking out episode 47 of my podcast, The Sunday Movie Marathon.

Your Name. (2016) - 6/10

Ultimately this was a fun little romance movie but I can’t say I understand why people adore it, nor do I understand why it needed to be animated. For what it’s worth, I found it cute and entertaining but nothing much jumped out to me.

Phil Wang: Philly Philly Wang Wang (2021) - 7/10

I’m always stumped on what to say about stand-up shows. It was good! I enjoyed Phil Wang talking about different things in a funny way and it got some laughs out of me. Admittedly I’m writing this a couple of weeks after watching it but it’s certainly a decent way to spend an hour if you’re looking for something light and fun.

The Lego Batman Movie (2017) - 6/10

I remember seeing this in the cinema with two of my friends and the theatre wasn’t exactly packed but those that were there were either children or parents. But I like The Lego Batman Movie! Clearly this was made by fans of the character as it’s packed with a lot of details and references from old comic runs but as someone who has never read the comics or seen those older movies, it still managed to be entertaining and while I won’t say it’s quite as good as The Lego Movie, the animation is still top notch and the voice actors are certainly giving it their all, especially Will Arnett as the titular character. It’s just a bit of fun!

Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991) - 10/10

A friend of mine told me to go to the screening of Terminator 2 at my local because they themselves weren’t able to attend. The first Terminator movie is a real gem and one of the most 80’s-type movies I’ve ever seen. I was excited to watch T2, remembering next to nothing about what I watched of it when I was a child. So it was just me in this screening, with one person in a row in front of me, and one other person behind me. If I had it my way, I would have been the only person there because this is honestly one of the best movies I’ve ever seen and it was very hard not to yell out every time something incredible happened, especially when it’s so action-packed and basically goes all out at every opportunity to deliver some of the most jaw-dropping effects or choreography. Truly there is never a dull moment and I was grinning like a lunatic the entire time. This film rocks!

Mirror (1975) - 7/10

Andrei Tarkovsky is one of my favourite directors and the new Criterion release of his film, Mirror, had been on my shelf for a while. My friend and fellow podcast co-host, Chris, was also interested in watching this movie so we decided we’d give it a watch and review it on the podcast. But this is such a weirdly structured film that the entire way through, neither of us knew what on earth was happening. What we got from the experience is reflected in the episode we made and I would love to watch this again at some point, hopefully with more context and a better understanding of what I’m in for. But in the meantime, you can hear the discussion on episode 46 of the podcast.

The Night House (2021) - 6/10

The Night House is David Bruckner’s follow-up to his previous movie, The Ritual and while I’ll say I prefer The Ritual, this is still a decent watch, just don’t go in expecting horror. More of my thoughts can be found in episode 46 of the podcast.

The Ritual (2017) - 7/10

After watching The Night House, I decided to go back to the director’s previous film, The Ritual and I got a lot more out of it this time around. Themes of guilt and grief permeate the movie and the result is this weird and unnerving film about a group of guys who go hiking in Sweden after the death of one of their friends and encounter dark forces beyond their comprehension. It can be drawn out at times and probably could have been boosted with a better script but there are so many interesting and strange ideas presented that culminate in a haunting third act that it’s worth watching just to see what on earth they’re being hunted by.

Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975) - 10/10

Straight after recording an episode about our favourite movies on the podcast, I returned to one of my all-time favourites. Holy Grail is such a fantastically funny movie with so many memorable lines and moments that it’s become a staple in the comedy genre. Setting it in Arthurian England is a surefire way to make sure it stands the test of time, making use of the budget in a way that heightens the comedy, for example: not being able to get horses and so resorting to having a man banging two coconut halves together as they skip through the grassy terrain. It’s the writing that really takes centre stage here; the guys from Monty Python were/are geniuses. A couple more points were made on my podcast so please do listen to that to hear more: Episode 46 of The Sunday Movie Marathon

Malignant (2021) - 7/10

The new James Wan movie was bonkers! I saw this one twice in quick succession without hesitation. To find out why I love it so much, listen to episode 47 of the podcast.

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) - 8/10

We got a marathon of the first three Nightmare on Elm Street movies on the podcast so we watched them in quick succession within a day. This first movie is a true masterpiece of its time. For more insight, listen to episode 47 of the podcast.

A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 2: Freddy’s Revenge (1985) - 2/10

Quite an embarrassing departure from the genius and fun of the original. Elm Street 2 is not only technically unfulfilling but a wholly unentertaining movie to boot. More thoughts in episode 47 of the podcast.

A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors (1987) - 3/10

While only a few hairs better than its predecessor, Elm Street 3 is still a mere shadow of the original. All in all, these second and third instalments in the franchise have put me off watching any of the others. More thoughts in episode 47 of the podcast.

Her (2013) - 10/10

Her is at once a beautiful love story between a man and an AI, and a scarily accurate look at how technology is expanding and moving forward. It uses warm colours and smooth camera work to create something that feels homely and safe, juxtaposing the often cold and dark feeling of science-fiction films to tell an intrinsically human story. What would it be like to go through this and what are the hurdles that need to be overcome? Her is a masterpiece of filmmaking and it left me emotionally exhausted in all the right ways.

Alien (1979) - 10/10

First time I’ve seen Alien in the cinema (as I was too busy not being born yet to see it on an initial release) and it was amazing! This is cosmic horror at its best. With all the eerie sound design, slow and deliberate camera movement, and outstanding effects, there’s no wonder as to why this is considered one of the greats and seeing it on the big screen was enthralling.

Aliens (1986) - 8/10

I had never seen Aliens before so the opportunity to see it for the first time in a cinema was one I could not pass up, especially since I was able to see it straight after the first. This is more of an action movie than the first one and as that, it was really something to see. While I don’t think it quite measures up to the original, James Cameron does bring a style to it that makes it something completely different while still feeling in line with its predecessor. A problem I’ve found as time goes on is that I don’t find myself thinking much about Aliens whatsoever and that’s probably down to its characters who generally I found quite weak. I’m already not big on standard action flicks and this is a clear cut above those but it does still fall victim to the trappings. That being said, I would in no way call this bad or even mediocre because it was a lot fun and being able to see it in the cinema is an experience I’m very grateful for.

Gunpowder Milkshake (2021) - 6/10

Gunpowder Milkshake is trying very hard to be John Wick and although it never really manages it, there is still fun to be had with its action (because really that’s all this movie has to offer). There’s a very creative scene in which Karen Gillan has to fight some goons in a hospital with a gun taped to one hand and a scalpel taped to the other, with the caveat being that her arms don’t work. Despite that and a good enough performance from Gillan, the rest is very goofy, with a villain about as intriguing as an advert for life insurance and a story that to say the least, leaves much to be desired.

I Lost My Body (2019) - 10/10

Another one for the podcast, I Lost My Body is a glorious cerebral animated piece that hits every nerve in my body. Listen to episode 48 for more.

Alice In Wonderland (1951) - 10/10

Perhaps the best early Disney movie in my humble opinion. Alice In Wonderland is complete insanity, doing things simply for the sake of it in a beguiling dreamlike take on Lewis Carroll’s classic book. Listen to episode 48 of The Sunday Movie Marathon for more.

WALL-E (2008) - 9/10

WALL-E is one of Pixar’s best. It is a cautionary tale of where the world is headed wrapped in a sweet story about going to the ends of the solar system in order to help those you love. I do however have one big problem with this movie and you can find out more in episode 48 of the podcast.

Killing Them Softly (2012) - 6/10

A lot about America’s economy at the time, Killing Them Softly goes about showing the lengths people will go to for money and yes it is generally solid with a fantastic speech by Brad Pitt to cap it off, but it cannot avoid meandering scenes of listless dialogue that neither engage me nor make me care about the characters it presents.

The Dirties (2013) - 6/10

Funny! The Dirties is a mockumentary about two guys making a movie about bullies in their school. While often it was generally chugging along and making me laugh, it tended to err on the side of plain as regards its presentation. A lot of scenes happen for the sake of it and in a movie that’s around an hour and twenty, it’s amazing I still managed to dip out in the latter half. More thoughts in episode 49 of the podcast.

Telstar: The Joe Meek Story (2009) - 3/10

Ah, I really hated this. I don’t even want to talk about it anymore. Just listen to episode 49 of the podcast to hear what I had to say.

Blade Runner 2049 (2017) - 10/10

This is my favourite movie! I got to talk about it on my podcast! Listen to episode 49 of The Sunday Movie Marathon to hear what I have to say!

No Time To Die (2021) - 8/10

Best Bond movie? Perhaps. I’ve not seen every Bond movie but of the ones I have seen (which does include all of Daniel Craig’s run), this is as good as it gets. Despite a near three hour runtime, No Time To Die felt as though it wasted very little. I’ve always complained that I could never follow the plot to these movies because often I simply didn’t care about it; for me it’s more about the action and seeing Daniel Craig be James Bond. No Time To Die does not escape some of the general tropes that often don’t leave me thinking I’ve watched something masterful but what I will say in its favour is that it’s fucking fun! Don’t expect to love it if you already dislike these movies because generally it stays in the same vein as the others before it, but for Bond fans it’s something totally enjoyable. Captivating cinematography, biting fight choreography and action set-pieces, a core struggle for James who actually goes through relatable hardships his time round, coping with being part of a family and trying to keep them safe.

I was happy to see a bit more attention paid to female characters this go round; in a franchise that often glamorizes Bond’s sexual promiscuity and ability to woo any woman he likes, it was much more refreshing to see that he often did need help from a lot of badass, well written female characters.

No Time To Die has been waiting to be released for a long time now and now it’s actually out, I’m pleased it’s not hot garbage. In fact, quite the opposite is true. The final swan song for Craig’s fifteen-year tenure as one of cinema’s most recognisable heroes outdoes all that came before it. Bravo.

[concealeddarkness13]

WHG 15 Post-Games Imposter Syndrome Part 19

Here’s the first time Triel gets on TV! Warning: still has kissing. Tagging: @sparkles-and-hens, @knmartinshouldbewriting, @maple-writes, @pen-of-roses (also thanks for Conor!), @thoughts-of-nora, and @ratracechronicler!

The Capitol finally decided to have us show up on TV, so I had to live up to my promise. I already had some idea of what it could be about, since the Capitol was planning on pretending that Conor and I were a couple. So, this would be an…interesting interview.

When I walked into my stylist’s room, she had already set out an outfit. My stylist was still Priscilla Cristal, so at least I kind of liked her. But as I looked over the outfit, it seemed a little different from what she would choose.

I looked over at her, raising an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

She pursed her lips. “It’s what you’re required to wear. Let’s get this on before I start ranting again.”

I just stayed silent as she got me changed. It wasn’t like it was awful. Actually, it was pretty, and it was a pirate theme. But, I could see the Capitol touches. I had on a loose, white shirt that had a plunging neckline; skin-tight black pants; black, high-heeled boots that went up to my knees; a long, black coat with a big star on it; and a wide, black hat that also had a big star on it. She then applied my makeup, which was all gold (not gaudy, just hints of gold except for the lipstick, which was all gold), and then she applied gold glitter over my exposed skin. Shit. That would be hell to wash off.

Priscilla Cristal looked me up and down, frowning. “I don’t even know why there are stars on your coat and hat. Pirates didn’t usually wear stars. But…it’s not my place to argue. At least that’s what the Capitol thinks. I’m not the one who picked this out. Your boyfriend thinks he’s a stylist.”

Oh. This made much more sense now. I snorted. “Not with the outfit he wore to District 9’s reaping, he’s not.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips before she shook her head. “It’s the best I can do. Now, off with you.”

I nodded and left the stylist room, just to run into the aforementioned boyfriend himself. I smirked. He was wearing a pirate outfit as well. And eyeliner. Not a bad look on him.

I gestured at my own outfit, since he was the one who picked it out. “Do you find this to your tastes?”

He quirked an eyebrow and looked me up and down. “I must admit to enjoying the touches of gold and seeing you in my signature stars again, yes. And me, am I to your tastes?” He spread his arms with a slight flourish, and he smirked.

I had to admit yes, but I wouldn’t say that out loud. “You make a convincing pirate. I wouldn’t be embarrassed to see you on my ship.” I crossed my arms. So, what the hell was he planning now? “So, how do you want to play this for the cameras?”

“Too much to ask to play the loving and doting, starstruck couple?”

He wouldn’t have agreed to pretending to be my boyfriend if he didn’t have some kind of ulterior motive. He didn’t seem to be the kind of person to just bow to the Capitol. And why would the Capitol choose him anyway if he hadn’t suggested it? “Just wanting to know exactly what you’d desire from my performance.”

“You to be your usual absolutely charming self, my little thief. You are the star of this show after all and I’d hate for anything less than that.” He offered me his arm.

So, he was insisting I was the star when he was inserting himself into the story. Wouldn’t that make him the star? Or at least distract the audience from the star? What the hell did he want? I took his arm, slightly tense. I didn’t trust him. “I think they might be more enamored about how you ‘saved’ me by pleading with the Capitol to spare me. I’m sure they’ll make it as dramatic as possible.”

“You can relax, I’m still your Bystander right now just with a closer seat to watch. At least for the moment as the show has only just started really.” Huh. So, what was he planning for later then? “Besides, all eyes will be on you, one of the few survivors of the Games, dressed like this, who can answer all their questions? And you were special enough to be saved in the first place. Truly far more interesting than a dime-a-dozen Capitol Escort who blends into their crowd easily.”

Shit. He had a point there. “A dime-a-dozen escort the Capitol actually listened to. Not so common then.” I paused. Not much to argue with though. Damn. “But I suppose that’s a good argument. Even though, dressed like that, not just a few heads will turn for you as well.” I eyed him to see how he’d react.

“My, do I dare say that’s a compliment, little thief?”

I smirked. “Me, I think the outfit’s 6/10.”

The interview before mine was finished, so it was about time for us to go on stage. He smirked and whispered back. “High praise indeed given the way you scored our kiss.”

I had to suppress a laugh. Damn it. We walked on the stage, and Caesar was standing up, getting the crowd hyped. He turned to us with a laugh. “Triel Reeves, the saved tribute from District 10! And the one who helped save her!” He turned back to the crowd. “This truly is a starcrossed couple, and I hope you’re as excited as I am to hear more about it!”

Oh boy. He gestured for us to sit down, and I just then noticed that there was only one chair for us. They certainly wanted push this, didn’t they? Conor sat down first, and I tried to squeeze in beside him, but there wasn’t enough room, so he subtly pushed me onto his lap. I smiled out at the crowd as I wrapped an arm around his shoulder and leaned into him. He smiled out at the crowd as well, with his eyes closed and his head tilted slightly, before turning his attention back to me. I could feel his eyes burning into me. Ugh.

Caesar sat down, and the crowd finally quieted down. He turned to us. “So, I think everyone has been dying to know. When did this first start? Triel kept it so hidden during the pre-Games. Is that when you met, or was it before then?”

I laughed lightly, glancing over at Conor before turning to Caesar. I had been told the supposed story before the interview. “Oh, we met in the Capitol. Before the Games. I couldn’t sleep, and he held me as I poured my heart out. And then he gave me his gloves for courage during the interview.” I looked back over at Conor, forcing a radiant smile and holding him closer. It was odd being so close to him. He just felt so…normal. But there was something that kept me on edge besides his words in the past few days. Something I couldn’t quite describe.

He smiled fondly at me. “I just couldn’t help but fall for her, her wit, charm, and smile? Who wouldn’t after how she is and everything she’s done? At a guess she’s captivated the entire Capitol and I just happened to be there at the right time and place.”

He was talking only about me, not even really how he felt. So, he wanted to be unremarkable. Caesar winked, and I made sure to focus. “So, where did the gloves go? We haven’t seen them since.”

Oh shit, what do I say about that? I kept the smile on my face as I took Conor’s hand and kissed the top of it. “They’re safe in my room. We’d rather have the least amount of barriers between us.” Ugh. Cheesy excuse.

He subtly quirked an eyebrow as he kept looking at me, still smiling. “They are a very special memento now, we wouldn’t want any harm to come to them.”

The audience sighed, and Caesar waited for them to quiet down again. “So then, Conor first. Please describe what you were feeling, seeing Triel in the Hunger Games, and what you did.” He turned to the audience and winked. “I’ve only heard part of the story, and it’s a tearjerker.”

So, what would he say? I had only been told my part of it. “Horror of course,” Bullshit, “that this fascinating person was in that situation and could easily be taken away oh so easily. And pride and hope watching her survive in them through her own intelligence and resourcefulness, she made it so far in them after all. Truly it was amazing watching her get through all of that, I’m sure you can all agree?”

He smiled wider when the audience applauded, but then he turned back to me with exaggerated concern. I tensed slightly when his eyes fell back on me. It felt kind of like what I would imagine prey would feel when a predator found them. He kept talking. “But the possibility of losing her was just too much to take, ask anyone I was around at the time there was just so much worry and uncertainty in the air, and was I to do? Stand by and watch? You’ll forgive my, shall we say, pride if I don’t confess the full story, you see there was a lot of begging and tears and strings pulled. Nevertheless,” he turned back to Caesar with a wide, sharp smile, his eyes flashing. “Here we are with her as safe as anyone can be in the Capitol now a days. There’s still a lot that has to be done to make up for disrupting the Games of course, and for that I do apologize, but I’m sure you can forgive me for not wanting to miss the chance to have someone this incredible in my life?” He turned back to me with a fond smile and lightly kissed my cheek.

Interesting how gentle he could be. I wouldn’t have thought that of him. But wow, look at all the bullshit being spun into a story. I fake giggled and nuzzled my face into his neck. He did smell nice. But I couldn’t get distracted. I brought up my lips to his ear to whisper. “Begging and crying, now that’s a pretty tale. But I’d be interested to actually see it.” Would that hurt his pride? Get any kind of reaction out of him at all?

He actually looked serious when he looked over at me. “I’d be careful what you wish for little thief,” he whispered, “considering I didn’t lie or say who.” Ah. That made more sense. He turned back to the audience with a smile. “But again here we are, and I can honestly say I am thrilled with how things are playing out!”

I just kept smirking. At least I had gotten some kind of reaction out of him. Caesar turned to me. “And, Triel! How did you feel, going into the Games after such a wonderful relationship was started? Knowing you probably wouldn’t see him again?”

I turned to the audience, mustering up my best fake tears, which I dabbed out of my eyes, and my best voice wavers. I held Conor’s hand, as if I didn’t want to ever be separated from him again. “I was just so—so scared. But I knew I had to survive. For him. I…I thought that was it when Delexus found me, but the Capitol, in their infinite mercy, allowed us to stay together, and I couldn’t be happier.” I leaned back against him and nuzzled into his neck to kiss there.

He whispered so only I could hear. “Your acting is improving, maybe a 5/10 as you said?”

I laughed. “How rude. I’m an 8/10 at least.”

“Then put on a good show and prove it.” He laughed.

Oh hell yes I would. I would put on the best damn performance. The crowd was staring at us like we were the most interesting thing in the world, and Caesar winked over at us. “Want to let us in on what you’re whispering about?”

And I would start by making a very convincing (but certainly fake) blush and burying my face into Conor’s shirt so he would have to answer that question. So there. He answered very graciously. “Inside joke, you see she has a habit of somehow ending up in an outfit similar to this no matter the situation, isn’t that right my Pirate?” Shit. My thoughts flashed to Reine again. “So I wanted to make her laugh and commented on what it might take to get to see yourself, Caesar in such an outfit, a party perhaps? But that might be a conversation for another time.”

Caesar laughed. “Oh I couldn’t pull it off as well as you two. But let’s continue so you two lovebirds can have some privacy soon.” Oh joy. He winked again. “So, at the end of the Games, when both of your dreams came true. Could you tell us a little about the reunion?”

I looked back up, still fake blushing. I giggled nervously (also fake). “It was like a dream. I still can’t imagine someone could love me with such passion and intensity and—” I cut myself off with another giggle.

Which he chose to pick up. “Absolute adoration that you’re here now and eager to learn more and more about you.”

Caesar eyed us with a smirk, which didn’t bode well. “But I think we all want to see. You’re so in love. So, how about a kiss?” The audience immediately screamed and chanted for a kiss.

Shit. I didn’t need that right now. I looked over at him. The Capitol was certainly hungry for a romance, and well… “I guess we can’t say no.”

“Seems we can’t,” he leaned forward and whispered, “if I may?” Again, so gentle sounding.

But not the kiss. He closed the distance, and it was the same as last time. Intense, not enough time for me to breathe. All my questions, all my suspicions jumbled and faded away with my other thoughts. He held me close and slipped both hands under my shirt, brushing his fingertips over my skin, as if no one was watching us. And when I broke off to gasp in some breaths, the crowd roared. Shit. I had to hurry up and get my thoughts back in order. But the smell of his cologne was in my nose, and his hands were still touching my skin, and I was too caught up in all of that. Shit.

“Sorry.” Conor turned to Caesar with a smile, sounding a little breathless. “I might have gotten carried away there.”

It took a while for the audience to calm down, so I had enough time to at least form a coherent thought. That he was dangerous. Which wasn’t a really intelligent thought. I had already known that.

Caesar laughed. “Sorry! Just one more question. What are your plans, Triel, now that the Capitol has given you a second chance at life?”

I felt so sluggish now. Luckily, the Capitol had actually given me a script for this question. I laughed. “Oh, the people of the Capitol have been so hospitable. I would love to work for one of the Capitol buildings, but I just don’t know which yet! I’m so glad they have given me a while to choose, so you might be seeing me around the Capitol in the next few weeks, checking everything out.” I winked and turned back to Conor. “But I’m most looking forward to spending time with you.”

He smiled and ducked his head slightly. “Yes, I rather hope we will have much time together.”

Oh joy. Caesar sighed with the rest of the audience and stood up. “The starcrossed lovers of this year’s Hunger Games! Brought back together by fate!” He ushered us off stage.

When we were out of sight of the cameras, I leaned against the wall to catch my breath. Shit. I was still light-headed from the kiss. He said something I couldn’t catch. So, I spoke. “Okay. I must admit. 7/10.”

“Such high praise, you’ll make me blush. Truly amazing how easily they ate all of that up, really spin a little tale and they’re all tripping over themselves for more.”

That jerk didn’t even look affected by the kiss. Shit. I had to put my thoughts together, but I couldn’t yet, so blunt it was. “It’s easy to get caught up in it when a little bit of truth is sprinkled in. I’m curious how much was in your little tale.”

“I could tell you right out, but then where’s my fun? I will admit that I lied to Caesar about what we whispered about,” Wow, he truly admitted a huge secret, “but as for the rest, well,” he spread his arms slightly, “I like to play with words, my little thief, far more fun than an outright lie.”

Of course. Which made it a lot harder to figure him out. “I truly haven’t mastered that ability yet. Lies are too easy to tell. Like about Reine.” I paused. He had made me think about her again, so I was going to get some information if I could. “I know all of the tributes who wanted to escape were captured. It’s my fault. So, why would you pretend like she’s not?”

“Hmm.” He started to pace slightly. “Here’s an interesting dilemma that I cannot figure out a way to solve, though perhaps I do not wish to? You distrust myself, and you distrust those who are holding you, though I suppose we appear one and the same to you. Yet you take the words of one at face value and not the words of the other. If I were to tell you I was telling the truth and they were lying, I would not bet on you believing me. Though, maybe you have found it curious after all, that the others are not in the same apartments as you?”

No, because Churi had already clearly stated what was going on there. I crossed my arms. “Churi planted the other tributes easy for me to find. He did it on purpose and then flaunted that in my face. I fucked up enough to make it harder for the rest of them to escape. It’s not improbable that the Capitol took them too. Why would they show their complete hand to me?” Why the hell was I saying all this? But I couldn’t stop. “And I know their intentions. I don’t know yours.” No matter what he had told me.

“And that right there is why I did not bet. I concede your point, as I myself would the first to tell you not to trust anyone or anything they say, especially without a shred of proof for their words. Except perhaps, yourself. Still, I do hope you find it curious to even a marginal degree at worst, considering I doubt that you outright told anyone where Reine’s hiding spot and escape route were? So how else would they actually capture them if they were busy with you lot?” Easy. We could have missed one camera that showed where they were. The Capitol had plenty of Peacekeepers. “If I was to bet on anyone having given that up it would be the assas-forgive me, you know her as Avery? She’s already been in their pocket. But even so, I will tell you only once more that the situation is not how you have been told.”

That last sentence was potentially true, but I bristled. How dare he try to accuse one of my fellow tributes? I would trust them any time over him. I smiled, but I couldn’t promise it wasn’t a snarl. “For all I know, Peacekeepers could have raided the camp to get everyone. I don’t know how the others were captured. And here you tell me not to trust anyone and then make a farfetched claim about a tribute who already was screwed over by the Capitol telling them about her best means of escaping. And then getting screwed over some more. How clever. Forgive me for not believing you.” Shit. I had to gain control again and pretend like nothing was bothering me. I had to think clearly.

His lip quirked in slightly. Well, at least I got a reaction. “Farfetched says the girl who can turn water into, crystal was it? And who shouldn’t exist from all that I’ve read. Nevertheless,” he bowed slightly, and an accent that seemed familiar became more prominent, “I concede the point. I’d ask what it would take for you to believe me, but yet, even I have my limits. All I can do is reiterate the point about looking carefully at the situations around you. And people, though your words on Miss Avery are not far off from what I have witnessed about feeling, uh, screwed over by the ever present Capitol.”

All right. Subject change. I wouldn’t get anything from him, and I would just stay pissed off. Better to try something else. I smiled, and it was a better smile than last time. “We should probably move away from such upsetting topics, though. We are supposed to be celebrating becoming an official Capitol couple, after all. As such, I think it’s only fair that we learn more about each other. I’ll go first. Your star. Reine. How are you connected? I suppose she doesn’t particularly like you from how she’s talked about you to me.”

He smiled. “She saved my life, so so long ago, and I was part of her crew for a time. Her ire is rather amusing, considering she was the one that simply disappeared one day with Alley Cat. Spend enough time around though, and we bump into each other quite often still.” He was still smiling. “Why a pirate? Was it the need for adventure and the call of the sea, or hopes for legends to be told about you and ideas of power? Or simply all you’ve ever known?” He offered his arm so we could keep walking.

Interesting. But what was truth and what was a carefully worded tale? I took it gracefully. I wouldn’t be completely honest. “I grew up on a ship and heard fantastic tales of pirates. When I volunteered, I decided on a whim to take the last name Reeves after a famous pirate I heard stories of.”

“Hmm, stories of course are always very influential. And your next question in our game of tit for tat?”

Shit. My thoughts had been wandering again after I smelled his cologne. I shook my head to try to clear it. “So, it’s completely accidental that you keep running into Reine? You do seem keen on getting her attention.”

“I assure you, she has found me when it is, less than ideal, more than I have sought her out. But the tiniest bit of hero worship does often lead us to try and grab the spotlight more often than is probably healthy. So was training required for all those powers and skills and charms? Or were you just naturally gifted?”

So, he was keeping it vague on purpose. Of course. I smirked and spoke in an exaggerated voice. “It took years of blood, sweat, and tears. I almost died.” My voice became more serious. “I’m certainly not naturally gifted. So, what did you mean by being around for quite a long time? Surely, you can’t mean you’re an old, crotchety man.”

“Your hard work and ability to survive and adapt truly is admirable then. I have been around longer than you would probably expect, based off of my appearance and mor—normal understanding, though I am still younger than Rainbow.” Interesting, if true. There was a flash of pain across his face. Unsure if it was real. “Truthfully, I don’t remember my age, the other two would have a better number for you.” He smiled over at me, with no sign of the previous emotion. “What is your favorite color? It would not do for me to unintentionally offend you with an ill-suited gift in future appearances.”

Now, what the hell was he planning with that question? And what the hell was my favorite color? I had to think for a minute. “A wine red. I’ve especially appreciated it ever since all the Capitol idiots wear bright, flashy colors.” I paused and eyed him. I probably wouldn’t get a good response, but I had to ask. “So, any perks with that unnaturally long life? Magic perhaps?”

“A lovely color. As for perks, there is the obvious of course, of getting to experience as much of the world as possible and watching all of the clever ways it changes, gain a better insight into people, but as for your true interests, yes, there is something like what you would call magic that comes with it.” His eyes flashed. What did that mean? “Though sense, or power might be a better way of defining it, and it presents differently for everyone. I, myself, hear more than others, though I doubt that is as exciting as what you considered.”

The way he said it, I would agree, but I didn’t trust him at all, so it was probably more interesting than he made it sound. I nodded, but he didn’t ask another question. I smirked over at him. “Have I just lost your interest so thoroughly that you don’t have any questions for me?”

“Oh of course not, I was just curious as to your reaction to the confirmation that I am more than meets the eye, however much or little that is. But if you insist, I have another question.” He turned fully to me with a mischievous expression. “Can I steal another kiss before we depart?”

I smirked back. I had to try to get used to his kisses anyway. I’d have to be around him a lot anyway. And maybe I could have some control over this one. “Such a gentleman, asking to steal. Me, I just take without asking permission.”

Before he could react, I smashed my lips to his and pushed him up against the wall. Control. I had to have control. It would probably be the only way I wouldn’t get caught up in the moment. It seemed to be going great. My thoughts were clear as we kissed, but then he grabbed my wrists just a little too tight and flipped so that I was against the wall and he leaned over me, holding my arms above me (even though he wasn’t that much taller than me, the jerk). He kissed me more intensely, and I couldn’t breathe and I was feeling a little dizzy and he let go of my arms and his fingertips brushed along my exposed skin and I was doing the same and shit I was getting caught up in the moment and…

After what seemed like forever, he broke away, and I could breathe. I just leaned against the wall trying to catch my breath. Shit. I had to figure out how to keep my thoughts from being muddled, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to. But I had to admit, he wasn’t bad at that. I certainly didn’t hate it, even though, a more realistic part of my brain said I should never let that happen again.

As he moved back a little, he smirked at me. Shit. “I’m excited to see how your plans pan out, my little thief. If you have any, that is.”

I instinctively smirked, even as my thoughts still weren’t working. “You’ll find I’m full of surprises.”

“I’m counting on it.” And with that, he left. He seemed to always be one step ahead of me. Would I be able to catch up?