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drjdorr · 7 hours ago

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Got inspired to do fan fic of a d and d game I play in(in the d and d setting) from this prompt but it was Looooong so I put a "read more" so it doesn't fill people's entire dash

Jysgo is brought out, not wearing his customarily finery since they didn't want to risk him inevitably having a hidden dagger they failed to find, to a massive arena. He nodded in something that could almost be praise, he had asked for his execution to be a spectacle, Sinabi had delivered.

The stands were crowded with spectators, while most looked at Jysgo with hatred, many even futility trying to throw stuff at him, he did notice more than a few sending a bit of that venom in the king's direction. Probably wasn't a good look doing the very thing that the giants the rebelled against did, even if it was at the condemned's request.

Jysgo gave a smug smirk towards Sinabi who fumed back in return. Jysgo was sure the human could work around this, adapt, the cleverness was something that Jysgo almost respected about the surface dweller.

Looking around the stadium, Jysgo saw the rest of the royal entourage scattered throughout. The elven Queen Maeralya of course sitting next to her husband, she looked more outfitted for court than battle Jysgo noticed, though he knew with her being a wizard looks could be deceiving. Khar along with his cult of gnolls wasn't hard to find with their distinctively colored cloaks. Neither was Zzissu with her contrasting Abeil stripes, buzzing overhead. And hard to miss the brightly colored 15 foot mushroom that was known as the Monkanid. Jysgo had to scan the crowd for the half elf Hugo, they didn't look that threatening with only a bow out, but Jysgo had seen just how deadly that bow could be. And glancing at the armored soldiers across from him, Jysgo felt no surprise seeing the dromite Kato.

"Jysgo Olar-" Sinabi began

"Spymaster Jysgo Olar, Giant Slayer, Troll Slayer, and the elf responsible for doing what was needed to save this kingdom" Jysgo corrected

"Jysgo Olar," Sinabi persisted with a snarl, refusing to use the drow's mostly self appointed titles, "for the massacre of innocent people, you have been sentenced to death by a method of Your Own choosing," He gestures around, "that being by combat against armed combatants while you yourself are armed with a wooden training sword."

"I felt like the challenge." Jysgo said to the guard holding him who seemed less than amused

"Have you any last words?" Sinabi regretted the words almost as soon as they left his mouth

"But of course." Jysgo said with a grin, "people of this fine kingdom, I admit it, I killed those innocent people." He let the expectation angry responses die down before he continued, "but all I did was what I was paid to do. I was paid to fix problems, and the best solution to the problem had those dozens of people die, so thousands of people could live." He emphasizes his statement by gesturing out at the crowd with his shackled hands.

"We don't trade innocent lives"

"Sure you do, what would you call it when innocent people join your army. You traded their innocent lives for them to fight to protect all of their innocent lives. How is what I did any worse?"

"Because they chose to fight to protect others, the people you killed didn't choose!"

"But do they really know what they will face joining your ar-"

Thunder interrupts Jysgo's rebuttal as Sinabi stands, "you had your trial, this is your execution! Bailiff, give him his sword!"

Jysgo could barely hide his smile as the guard pushes a wooden practice sword into his hands, he had annoyed the man and better yet, people had begun to whisper among the crowd. Didn't matter how accurate what he said was, so long as it got people questioning the current regime, though that out burst certainly didn't hurt.

As the bailiff started walking away Jysgo held up his shackled hands, "aren't these going to be unlocked?"

"I had assumed they already had been"

Jysgo shrugged as he flicked them open, "I mean you aren't wrong. Though it is interesting how you are so quick to execute the person with the most dirt o-"

"Enough," thunder rolled before he turned to the warriors across from Jysgo, "just get this over with already"

Jysgo crouched into a fighting stance as the armored fighters charged at him. At a glance he counted 9 besides Kato.

The first one arrived and swung his sword, which Jysgo blocked with a slashing motion, taking careful steps, one at a time, to get the best positions.

Wood slivers flew from his blade with every blocked strike whittling away his sword till he suddenly dodged to the side avoiding the warhammer that crumpled in the breastplate Jysgo had seen the strike coming in.

"You seem to have missed," Jysgo mocked as he began dodging the swings of the warhammer. "Slow, predictable, and," he stabbed his sharpened training sword under the armpit causing a gurgling gasp as his opponent dropped his hammer, "leaves you open." As he withdrew the blade he mused, "seems I hit a lung. I'm not use to using such off balance weapons, I was aiming for the heart." He casually side stepped a flail before closing the distance and shoving the tip in a small gap under the chest before withdrawing it to a collapsed opponent, "that's better."

He rolled away as a man whose armor was more spikes than armor tried to grab him before giving a sigh, "too easy." He ducked under the next swing of his arms, snapping one hand cuff onto him before yanking his arm to block an oncoming glaive, "not wanting to wait your turn?" He then yanked the spiked armored warrior's arm to stab his own head, "very well, I was just finishing with him," before he blocked the next swing and pinned it down with the cross guard of his training sword, running down the haft to be right in front of him and in a movement faster than the eye could follow, Jysgo's blade slid into the eye slit of his opponent.

"This is fun and all but this will be easier like this," with a few quick gestures and words he was seemingly gone. And quickly the vulnerabilities of their armors were shown to all as bleeding holes opened up on them one by one as they desperately looked and flailed around for the invisible drow, an occasional amused chuckle being all any of them had to guess on till the only ones left on the field were Kato, a young goliath with a mace, and that drow.

"On our right" Kato called out in time for the goliath to turn his shield and hear wood on metal as a smiling drow suddenly appeared

"And here I was worried that this would be boring" Jysgo joked before recasting his invisibility before an ax swung just close enough that a few white hairs fluttered to the arena floor.

"You can't sneak up on us traitor, I can smell you approach." Kato said, making sure they were close enough to the goliath to give him fair warning Also how in the hive do you smell so clean, you've been locked in a cell!"

"It's called proper hygiene. Surely with such cramped living conditions, you dromites are familiar." The sound of wood on wood can be heard as Kato blocks a strike, "and being a traitor would require I was on your side. You of all people should understand I was only ever on my side"

A few moments of silence. A small puff of dust is kicked up.

"Ignore it," Kato tells the goliath as he turns his shield in that direction, "it's an obvious mis- LEFT!"

The two quickly turn in the direction of the drow who only gives the slight crunch of moving sand as he twists past the goliath's shield and Kato feels a few warm droplets before swinging their shield and sending the revisible drow tumbling as the goliath collapses, the blade having snuck under the edge of his helmet into the soft lower pallet.

"Not my cleanest work," Jysgo said as he stands, flicking blood off his blade giving his shoulder a little roll, "your nasty trick of being able to smell me made an inconvenient-" he barely had time to jump back as Kato's ax swung were his unprotected intestines were a moment ago, the proximity to the enchanted weapon leaving a line of frost across Jysgo's shirt.

They went back and forth, Kato almost casually blocking every strike from Jysgo and Jysgo dodging the lethal swings of Kato's ax sometimes only by a hair with Kato moving in as quickly as his little legs can carry him

At one point Jysgo has a moment of time and goes invisible again.

"I thought we established this traitor!" Kato yelled, their eyes trained as close onto where they smelt Jysgo as they could, "I! Can! Smell! You!"

Jysgo didn't respond before suddenly charging at the dromite, his blade dragging in the sand, kicking it up in a clear line.

Kato had no time to guess what he was doing before the blade was picked up from the ground, Kato's shield braced when they smelled the drow go up. A great strategy for anyone who couldn't smell him Kato thought to themself as they raised their shield to follow the drow's arc before they felt a pair of soft impacts, not like wood on wood, more like... Kato suddenly realizes what's happening as they notice they're right next to the wall

Jysgo jumped off the dromite's shield and manged to grab the edge of the wall and pulled himself up

"He's making a break for it!" Kato shouted as the rest of the royal entourage moves into action.

Jysgo begins to book it ,he knows how fast they can move as he hears Sinabi order the arena locked down, no one in or out.

He ducks behind a pillar as his invisibility drops, already partway through a spell to disguise himself. He has moments before- he leaps out of the way as a lightning bolt crashes into where he was just standing. Good news, people are panicking and that can provide cover. Bad news, the abeil had found him before he could get a disguise up.

He started moving with the crowd, the worst attacks most of them had hit wide areas, they wouldn't risk firing them into a crowd. Unfortunately people in the crowd where recognizing him and moving away. Also Unfortunately from the slight rumble, the giant mushroom was approaching fast.

Suddenly a nearby section of the stands burst into flames, and then another and another. Suddenly the crowd was less concerned with the condemned criminal and more concerned with getting away from the flames. It also distracted the entourage long enough for Jysgo to slip into one of the interior tunnels along with some of the crowd.

Taking this quick window Jysgo brought up his disguise, an older human man, and especially made sure to disguise his prisoner rags. Right as the glamor finished the hulking form of the myconid entered the hall, its head going side to side, searching the crowd as a faint amount of spores drifted from it.

Obviously nothing dangerous, Sinabi would never allow it... but comunication spores he probably would. Easy enough to work around, Jysgo thought, just don't think into the group. Easy.

And suddenly the minds of everyone in that hall was bombarded by everyone else's thoughts. Jysgo watched on in amusement as everyone suddenly jolted in surprise and confusion, some clutching their heads from their minds suddenly being so filled with others thoughts. It's only as the fungus' face locked onto him and the face of his disguise was broadcasted across the mental link that Jysgo realized his error in staying calm and collected and started shoving through the crowd as in contrast it parted as fast as it could for the usually terrifyingly fast behemoth after him.

Jysgo looked for an escape route that he wouldn't be followed through and never hated living in such an accommodating multi cultural place more. And then he saw a maintenance door and moved towards it.

The slight rumble, far to quite for something of that size, told him how close it was behind him as he reached the door and went to open it. Locked. He slammed his fist against the door, locked. Again, locked. Again, it had unlocked and he slipped inside as he felt the spongy fingers barely miss him before slamming the door shut.

"Hey buddy," A gnome looked at the human(drow) who had just ran into the maintenance area, slightly out of breath, "this is a restricted area. You can't just come in here."

Jysgo took a moment to composed himself before replying, "I am an inspector doing a surprise inspection." He tapped the door he had just come through, "you see this door? I just demonstrated with a proper impact in the right location, the locking mechanism comes undone. That is not a secure door and you should see about getting that replaced."

"...Uh-huh." The gnome slowly responds before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a sending stone and begins talking into it, "Hey central? Can someone let Sinabi kn- ghk" he clutches at his throat which had just had a foot hit full force into it before it stomped onto the stone, breaking it.

"Today has been a bad day," Jysgo says to the slowly passing out gnome, unable to breath past his crushed larynx, "I'm usually great under pressure, but usually I'm aware ahead of time of pressure and usually it's only handling someone as dangerous as one of those guys, I've got seven." Jysgo sighed looking down at the unconscious gnome, "they know what door I went through, I'm sure someone will be here before you suffocate, maybe. Like I said, bad day, usually I'm more professional." Looking at the gnome before heading off he redoes his disguise, it's a bit taller than the gnome should be but should be good enough at a distance.

He heads into the bowels of maintenance, he knew the back areas of the city enough that he could navigate it with his eyes closed. Unfortunately the only places he could navigate in here is other places in this maintenance or the arena above as the arena was a relatively closed system and didn't connect to any other buildings through their tunnels. He would definitely have tried to change that if it wasn't for the wanted for execution thing. Jysgo smiled to himself atleast it's accurate this time and not some sloppy frame job

He finds the door to concessions and goes through. The food prep area was mostly abandoned at this point, and quite a bit of the ingredients had been replaced with flasks of a rather reactive liquid.

"You know," Jysgo turned towards the masked figure sitting behind him, silent as the grave, "you could have set off the fires a little earlier Number Two. Would have made things way easier"

The masked figure slid off his seat to stand before Jysgo and flashing him some quick signs of drow sign language <sorry sir. The abeil found you sooner than expected>

"Whatever. Did you aquire my things?"

<yes, our associate dropped them off after escorting you to the arena> Number Two handed the box of possessions to Jysgo who quickly opened it and began dressing himself in his proper attire.

"You never realize how nice that protective aura of magic is till you lose it." He wiggles his body making sure everything sits correctly as he slides his wooden blade into a loop of his belt. "Is everything in position to move to contingency stage 2?"

"Then let's do it"

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"Drow matching Jysgo's hight and build heading your way Khar" Zzissu said over the comunication spores

"On it"

The gnoll hid in wait for the drow. Seeing him, he looked like Jysgo, down to the finest detail, but Khar could see he didn't ask like Jysgo. Firstly, moving so openly looking as himself? Standing so casually when he needs to hide? Moving into a sparsely populated area when the entourage is hunting him? Heck he didn't even move like Jysgo.

Khar stepped out startling the imposter who stood tall and held the practice blade in a fencing stance. Khar could see he'd never held a blade like that in his life.

"Alright, you found me. But I will not go down with out a-"

"Where is Jysgo?" Khar interrupted, not having time for this game

"I think clearly I am righ-ugh" a wall of ice slams him into the ceiling, only his head sticking out as Khar repeats the question

"Where is Jysgo?"

"Ow. ow. I don't-ow. I think you broke my- ow everything"

"Hardly. I can demonstrate how wrong you are if I have to repeat myself though"

"I don't- ow know! I- ow don't know! I was to- ow told when I got the call to come in h- ow here, when confr- ow confronted to pretend to be- ow him, you'd go easy on me. And- ow at the end I'd get a hundred gold. I'd be set for li- ow life."

"We got fake Jysgos," Khar reported over the mental link as he left the imposter pinned to the ceiling

"Yeah, I'm starting to notice more than a few suddenly cropping up," Zzissu responded looking over the crowd in the stands

"Just caught 2 in maintenance," Kato reported

"I see one by concessions," the Monkanid passed on

"On just ran by near the main entrance, didn't approach the gate" Maeralya reported in

"Just had one try to attack me in storage" Sinabi continued the trend, "wasn't hard to catch him in his leap and it appears atleast some are in a glamor"

"Just found one mid applying the glamor by Jysgo's cell," Hugo said, "and we may have some unforseen issues. Because this was Jysgo's bailiff"

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Jysgo looked down at the chaos as his imposters swarmed around the stadium his former allies trying chase them down incase it is him. And yet he easily climbed to the top of the arena once he got his magic focus for longer invisibility and his spider climb cloak.

He took out a sending stone, and checked for any pesky fliers before confirming they were lower down and speaking into it, "I believe it's time for stage 3"

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"Sir- Sinabi- your grace- sir?"

Sinabi looked at the frazzled individual, a lesser noble, important enough to have been sent to him but not in charge of anything really, "what do you need? We are a little busy right now"

"I know si-sina-your- yes I know, but I was sent to tell you the city is on fire"

"I'm sorry what, actually one moment" Sinabi switches his attention from the noble to Zzissu to communicate over the spores, "Zzissu, you have the easiest access to the sky, I just got told the city is on fire"

Zzissu zoomed up to check and looked out over the city, unaware of the drow sitting and watching invisibly so close

"Yes. Nothing big yet but there is alot of fires, all over the city. Only major areas untouched are the palace and gnoll hill."

Sinabi looked at the noble, "thank you for your warning, we will handle it" and began to head for the exit, informing everyone what needs done when the noble interrupted him

"He did ask me to pass on another message"

Sinabi stopped and turned towards the man, "who?"

"The young gnoll who told me the city was on fire and to tell you. Weirdly clean gnoll too, only gnoll I've ever seen that clean is high priest Khar." Seeing the face on Sinabi's face he got to the message, "right, he told me to tell you, 'how do you think they'll react to the placements?' And asked me to give you this. Said it would explain stuff." He pulls out a small coin marked with symbols, the same kind of coin Jysgo was fond of using as a training tool for his agents.

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<so sir,> Number Two signed as they and Jysgo slipped through the city, avoiding the entourage as they fought to control the strategically placed infernos, <what are your plans now?>

"Well I certainly can't stay here, and they know where your loyalties lie. Well as much as I do atleast. Probably going to have to lay low for a decade or two." Number Two didn't voice their doubts that Jysgo Could lay low for a full decade let alone two, "but once things have calmed down enough that learning where I am will send them hunting me down? Well, there are plenty of towns, cities, and kingdoms we could rebuild in. But we're definitely going to want to get out of here before stage 4 starts itself and the people tear this place to the ground." He chuckles at the thought

A noble sentenced to die is allowed to choose their execution method. They ask to die in honourable combat against the king's knights, armed with a wooden sword while the knights have real weapons. It's been 24 hours since the execution started and the king is running out of knights.

#my writing #writing prompts #Jysgo Olar #Kato Fanech #tw death #tw violence #tw blood #this isn't remotely cannon #and I'm probably severely flanderizing my friends' characters #cause yes. this story required me break my general rule not to use other people i know's characters #that being said it's interesting being able to write Jysgo without anything to act as a moral compass #usually he has his employment or Zarra. but Zarra isn't in this story and he's been sentenced to death by his employer #i also feel i should say Jysgo lost before the story began #he had power and influence and money and this got rid of basically all of it #but he's petty. this story is basically him making sure if he lost Everyone else loses too #though ignoring my bias for my own character. I'm pretty sure while there will be issues. the party could salvage this

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barcaatthemoon · 3 days ago

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complicate me || leah williamson x reader ||

Coming back to Arsenal was a mistake, but you and Leah manage to make an even bigger one together.

18+

You had always known that you wouldn't be at Manchester forever. A three year loan was a pretty long time, and for a moment, you had hoped that it would become permanent. Arsenal had let you stay the couple years, but with Jonas out, management ended your loan early. They wanted you back in red, not that you could blame them. There were a lot of important games coming up, and even if you technically couldn't play in a couple of them, you were still an important piece for practices.

It felt weird for you to walk the training grounds at Arsenal by yourself. Jen was gone, and she had always been the person you could count on to still be your mate after everything. Leah had kept most of your friends after the breakup, and then you hadn't exactly helped your case when you just up and left after everything.

You could still remember the way that Caitlin had practically begged for you to stay with the team. If it wasn't for Jen, you probably would have been convinced to stay. A part of you regretted leaving, but you knew that you hadn't been in your right mind with Leah so close after everything. At the time, it all seemed like too much to be reconciled, but now you were hopeful that things could be fixed.

You'd never in a million years get back together with Leah, no matter how good she looked. It didn't matter how many drinks you had on a team night out. After the first couple to celebrate wins, however, you promptly decided that you'd be a loner at Arsenal. With Jen in California, you had lost your personal voice of reason, the only person who could truly keep you away from Leah for your own wellbeing.

"Come on, you have to come over. You never do anything with the team, everybody's gonna think that you hate them," Caitlin pleaded with you. The two of you had been going back and forth for the past week about you coming to the party she was throwing with Katie at their place. It was a bye week, so everybody was free to enjoy the weekend. You knew there would be a lot of drinking, and that was what scared you. You had always been able to hold your liquor pretty well physically, but you made absolutely terrible decisions sometimes.

"Cait, nobody wants me there. Let's face it, they barely even want me playing here again," you reasoned. Caitlin could see you start to move to get up and rushed to grab onto your wrist. "Caitlin, I don't want to argue about this."

"Then don't argue and just come over for a bit. You don't have to talk to anybody but me. Just please, I miss you. I've missed you since you moved and iced everybody out," Caitlin said. She gave you her best puppy dog eyes, and if it was anybody else, you probably would have just said no. But because it was Caitlin, you gave in despite your better judgement.

That afternoon when you got out of training, you went straight home and immediately called Jen. You had hoped that she would convince you not to go, but instead, she had fully agreed with Caitlin. You hated hearing how it was a good idea to bond with the women you'd be spending the next two seasons of your career with. Once your contract was over, you could go somewhere else, but for now, you were stuck at Arsenal.

A lot of things had changed since you left. The changes may not have seemed like much to people who had been around, but they had definitely taken you by surprise. The big one had been Caitlin and Lia. Caitlin had been clinging to Katie's side when you arrived, and Lia was stuck by Lia.

Years before, you had been close with Lia, even closer than Lia and Leah were. Now, you just had Caitlin, who you had only befriended because of Lia. It hurt for the Swiss woman not to even look your way, but you couldn't imagine how it looked to her. You were sure that everybody had gotten Leah's side of the story, which you weren't calling bullshit, but you knew had to be biased.

"You look good. Leah's staring," Caitlin said as she nudged you.

"Whatever." You brushed off Caitlin's comment, but only to force yourself not to glance over at the blonde. You couldn't let yourself get sucked over there, not when you knew where it would end up. Leah had an uncanny ability to complicate everything in your life, and she had been doing it for years now. Your relationship had been far from perfect, but you were happier then. Now, you were miserable while she was getting a chance to live her best life.

"(Y/n), I didn't think you'd come." Katie looked just as surprised as she sounded. Caitlin swatted at the Irish woman's chest, but Katie seemed unphased. "I'm glad you came. It's been boring without my favorite drinking buddy."

"Do you really want me to drink you under the table this early into the night?" you asked teasingly. Katie scoffed at that, but didn't deny that you usually did win the little competitions. You watched as Katie sent Caitlin a pleading look before Caitlin just nodded. Before you could react, Katie grabbed your hand and led you into the kitchen where the alcohol was.

You let Katie pick the alcohol, and thus, your competition began. You should have known better than to start drinking like this so early into the night, but you wanted to have fun. It had been so long that you believed that you deserved to have a good night out. Several shots later, and you found yourself having to help Katie stumble out of the kitchen.

"Katie, you promised you'd stop at 5," Caitlin huffed as she took her girlfriend from you.

"Hey, it's not my fault that she did doubles," Katie slurred. Caitlin glanced over at you, who just barely had a rosy tint to your cheeks. You didn't seem too out of it, so Caitlin left you there to make Katie sit down and eat something with the hope of sobering her up a bit. It couldn't have been more than maybe 30 seconds of you being alone for Leah to find her way over to you.

"I see that you're enjoying yourself," Leah teased. Your eyes narrowed at her, but your anger was fleeting. You couldn't hold onto any one emotion for too long before forgetting what exactly it was that you were feeling. "You're gonna be feeling that tomorrow."

"That's not your concern," you told her. Leah seemed a bit shocked by the snark in your tone. She shouldn't have been surprised by it, you had spoken to her in worse tones constantly by the end of your relationship. "Why are you over here? You told everybody that I ruined you. Nobody wants to talk to the woman who ruined them."

"(Y/n), I was hurt. You know that I lash out when I'm hurt, besides, I am much more mature than I was before," Leah said. She placed her hand on the small of your back, and it ignited something inside of you. Without an ounce of hesitation, you turned and tried to kiss Leah. "Hey, no, not like this. I want you, but I want you to want me back."

"Leah, it's complicated. I'm complicated now," you told her. Leah bit her lip and glanced at the bottle of alcohol just sitting on the table behind you. You followed her gaze and immediately knew what she was getting onto. "You want to be on my level?"

"I don't think I'd feel so bad if I was," Leah reasoned. You didn't like the thought of her needing to be drunk to want you, but the notion was gone as quickly as it popped into your head. Everything was fleeting, except for your desire to have Leah. You didn't necessarily want her sexually; you just wanted her close. If you had to crawl into bed and open your legs for that, then you were more than willing to do so.

The trip back to Leah's was a bit of a blur. Leah's place wasn't too far from Katie and Caitlin's, close enough for the two of you to walk there. The two of you had left fairly early into the night, but it was nearly 11:30 by the time that you had gotten inside. Neither of you seemed to care as you had both been guilty of stopping to kiss and feel the other up.

Your lipstick was smeared on Leah's mouth and neck by the time that you got back to her place. She paused as she caught a glimpse of herself, a little more disheleved than normal. Leah promptly turned her atttention over to you. You looked just as far gone as she did, pupils blown wide as you watched and waited for her to make another move on you.

"Come on," Leah said as she tugged you along with her. Leah tried to move quickly with you, not giving you a chance to take in the state of her home now that you were gone. She was scared that if the two of you stopped for too long, you would notice all of the little pieces of you that Leah had refused to give up.

The truth was that she had tried, and for a while, they had been gone. However, Leah had always kept the few boxes of trinkets and little things you left behind in her closet. Lia had begged Leah to throw it all away, but the blonde couldn't bring herself to do it. Eventually, she began hating the way that her house felt, so she slowly put all of your things back in their rightful places.

Leah kept the light in her room off, guiding you to the bed herself. She didn't think about you waking up in the morning and seeing anything, but Leah doubted that the two of you would be on speaking terms for a while after tonight. Any time that you let yourself get remotely close to Leah for a little, you always blanked everybody for about a week or two.

"Lee, it's dark," you said. Leah just hummed, neither of you stopping in your attempts to undress each other. You wanted to see Leah's body, but you weren't willing to pull yourself away from her to turn on the lights. You didn't need the lights on to know the look of concentration on Leah's face as the two of you ground against each other.

You could vividly imagine everything happening around you. This was far from the first time that you had closed your eyes and just tried to imagine all of the things you remembered about Leah. Now, it was much more real than before with Leah panting and moaning in your ear.

"I want to feel you. I want to be inside of you," Leah told you. You had never been glad to be laying down before in your life. There was no way that Leah wouldn't have known how her words would affect you. You were sure that Leah could feel the surge of arousal as it coursed through your body.

"Fuck me, Leah, please," you begged her. You pushed a needier tone than usual, letting Leah really hear every ounce of desperation inside of you. Leah groaned as she sat back on her knees. One of her hands slipped between your legs while the other went between her own.

Leah could just barely make out the twisting of your body in the moonlight. She was so much closer than you were, but Leah wanted to make you cum. She wanted to feel you clench around her fingers at least one more time. She didn't know whether or not she'd get another chance to touch you like this again, and so she tried her best to savor the moment.

…

The hangover from hell was the least of your problems whenever you had woken up the next morning. With Leah fast asleep next to you, you quickly snuck out of her home. It had once been your home too, but once again, you were running from it. A few quick phone calls to Arsenal's management staff about taking some time off for your mental health and a hasty plane ticket purchase later, and you were dead set on leaving the country.

Leah would be mad at you, as would Caitlin and everyone else, but you had to go. You watched as a text was sent out from management about you taking the next month off. Text after text began flooding in as you packed a bag. You didn't know how long you'd really be away for, but you just had to get the fuck away from London for a while.

"Jen? I know it's early for you, but I fucked up. I'm not over her, and I just need to clear my head for a couple of days. I swear that I won't be long, they're giving me the month, so I'll probably go back to Glasgow for a bit too. I just, I'll see you later." You had always hated leaving voicemails, but the words just poured from your mouth. You knew that your best friend was going to kill you when she saw you, but she'd also take care of you too.

#woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso smut #minors do not interact #minors dni #leah williamson smut #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader

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spidybaby · 2 days ago

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Seat 332

Summary: The seat he always reserved for you, it's now hers.

Warnings: cursing.

You hug Aurora as the two of you jump happy.

"I'm so happy." Aurora says, tearing up a little bit. "I'm sorry, I need a moment." She says, walking out of the room.

You turn to face Gavi. He has the biggest smile anyone could ever have. He opens his arms, walking over to you.

You carefully hug him, head between his neck and shoulder. "I'm so happy for you, Pablito." You say.

He tightens the hug, kissing your forehead. "I'm happy too." He says. "I can't wait to be on the field again."

Gavi got the green light to start training on the training camp, not like the others, but finally, he's able to run, to juggle the ball, to be out.

"And maybe I'll be able to play against Sevilla." He smiles, a smile that might hurt later. "I can't wait."

You separate from the hug, grabbing his cheeks. "I'm going to be there for you, I'll be the loudest on the stadium when I cheer your name." You smile at him.

He moves his hand and places it on the back of your neck, bringing you in for a kiss. You don't waste one second and return the action.

"I kinda like having my own cheerleader." He smirks. Giving you another peck.

You laugh at his tone, grabbing his hand, walking with him to the living room. His parents and Aurora have smiles and tears.

Finally, after so long and after everything Gavi went through, he was able to go back to the field and do what he loved the most, play.

"We are so happy, mijo." Belen says, hugging him. "You are going back to play."

His father joins the hug. They were telling him how happy they were about his return, even when it was just to training.

It was a big step for everybody. After the times when Pablo didn't want to see anyone and used to cry himself out of the frustration of being in bed while his friends played. Horribly but played. (Don't fight me on this, last season was bad)

His family was grateful for your support to Pablo. You have known him since school, and your support was very important to him and to them.

You and pablo were friends, even when you looked like the typical couple. You never officially become anything other than his friend, and tell people that you were fine like that.

"Let's go out to eat." Pablo Sr. says. "We need to celebrate this big moment."

Pablo pulls you to the front door, intertwining your hands. Pablo asked you what you are eating. Naming you different things off the menu.

"I want a piece of cake." He says, opening the door for you. "Want to share?" He asks, passing his arm around your shoulders.

You nod to him, giving him a kiss. You were careful with the picture and places. You know that since you two aren't labeled, you don't want to deal with the fans.

You were fine letting people think you were Aurora's friend. You were thankful to have some pictures with them from when you were kids.

Fans have seen that and thought nothing of it. So they didn't really care when you were with Aurora at the games.

"We are going to Sevilla this weekend." Pablo says. "Want to join us?"

You shake your head no. "I have a lot of work to do." You explain.

He rests his head on your shoulder. "I'm going to miss you." He says, sighing.

Gavi's parents ask you about college. They were happy that it was going well for you. You wanted to be a physiotherapist.

They wanted you to succeed. They have known you since you were a child, and when you went out of your way to help Pablo during his recovery. They got closer to you and got to know you better.

You became closer to him because you two met up at a common friend birthday party. You told him that you moved to Barcelona to study.

He contacted you over Instagram. You two began talking, and then he invited you to a game. You, as a cule, said yes immediately.

Since then, you got closer and started a small fling. You never cared that it was an in and out situation. He was an old friend and he liked you.

Pablo and you excuse yourselves. He has training in the morning, and you were going to help him with his therapy routine.

"Do you want me to help you with your exercise?" You ask, checking on him as he does what his physio instructed him.

He shakes his head no, trying to act tough and uninterested. "I'm almost done." He says.

You enjoy the show he's pulling. His face went from normal to a red one as he refused to ask for help. All that only to look cool for you.

You can't help but laugh at how his arms are shaking thanks to the effort he is putting into the exercise.

"Pablo, let me help you." You say, getting up and walking up to him. Grabbing the weight he's using. "Let's do it together." You say, kissing his temple.

You work out with him. Doing it slowly and helping him take the proper rest in between sets.

"You see?" You ask him. Leaving the weight on the floor. "A little help won't hurt you."

He chuckles, giving you a kiss. "Want to shower with me?" He asks, hiding his sweaty face on your neck.

You nod, grabbing his hand and walking upstairs with him.

yourusername

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yourusername ♥️💙

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aurorapaezg preciosa ♥️

yourusername te quiero 🤍

pablogavi 🙄🙄🙄

yourusername 🤨?

"Have you noticed that we are always placed in the same seats?" Aurora asks, walking with you around the now empty stadium.

"We do?" You ask, confused. "How do you know that?"

"I was checking the seating on the last few games. Don't ask me why cause I just did it out of boredom."

You turn, looking at where the seats are located. "Never noticed that. We can ask Pablo why is that."

"Ask me what?" Pablo says. He was behind you.

He grabs your arm, pulling you against his chest. You laugh at his roughness. "Pablo!" You say in between giggles.

"Pablo, careful." Aurora warns him.

Pablo shush Aurora, giving you a kiss. You feel him wrapping his arms around you. "What do you wanna ask me, guapa?" He whispers to you before returning to kissing you.

You separate. "I don't even remember anymore." You say, making him chuckle. "Ready to go?" You ask, making him nod.

You were taking them to the airport after the game. Even when he isn't ready to play, he wants you at the games.

He says that it's for you and his family to get used to him playing again. You love it when he includes you into his plans.

"Let's go, lovebirds." Aurora says, walking away from you. "We don't want to hit traffic."

You walk to the car, thanks to the wait in the stadium, there was not much traffic. You needed to pick something at Gavi's house before the airport.

"I'll be quick." Aurora says, running to the house.

Gavi was singing some song he had on the playlist of his recovery. He was focused on his phone.

You then remember what Aurora told you about the seats. You want to ask him, so you turn the music down.

"I just remembered what I wanted to ask you." You tell him, bomping his nose with your finger.

"A ver, dime."

"Aurora pointed out that we always sit in the same seats." You explain. "Why is that?" You ask.

He smiles, getting closer to you and giving you a small kiss. "I memorized where the seat was." He explains. His fingers combing your hair. "That way, when I scored, I know where to look. I know that you'll be there."

You can't help the big smile that you have. He was looking for you after every goal. After every asist, he knows where to look to find you.

"Seat 332" He says. "That's the one I always ask for."

You were about to say something, but Aurora joined the two of you in the car. She apologizes for the inconvenience of having to stop at Pablo's house for her makeup bag.

"Let's go!" She says happy. "I can't wait to be home."

You smile, happy that they got to go home. The rest of the drive consists of Pablo singing every song that plays and Aurora asking you to change the song because Pablo was ruing it.

When you got to the airport, Gavi helped his sister with the luggage. Telling her that he will carry them for her.

"I'll call you when I'm back." He says, putting his head inside the car. "A kiss goodbye?" He makes duck lips.

You giggle, giving him a kiss. "Have fun, bye."

pablogavi added to closefriends

You liked Gavi's story. Answering his dm. He let you know that he was still in Sevilla and that he was having fun.

You forgot to answer him. You were busy with some paperwork you were procrastinating. You needed to finish if you want to see him after he come back from Sevilla.

You tell him that you will be out of the radar for a few days, and when he comes back you will text him when you are free.

You spend your days working and going to uni. You had to study hard if you want to pass with a good grade.

Aurora told you that she gave your greetings to your abuelita and that she sent you something with Pablo.

You thank her and tell her that you'll talk to Pablo to get whatever she sent you. Going back to the books and the studying.

You spend more than you should without reporting you. Gavi went missing in action, too.

You didn't even notice, your phone was running in low battery from all the working and studying you are doing.

You were going back to your place, happy that you finally get to relax and to be free from all the books, all the papers and all the sleepless nights.

You find a very known car parked in front of your house. You get down of your own car, passing beside it like you didn't know.

"Hello, señorita." Gavi says, smiling with such pride. "I'm looking for someone. Maybe you can help me."

"Oh, hi Mister." You follow his act. "Can you describe this person to me?"

"She's pretty." He began, taking his glasses. "Very pretty. She's a very smart girl, with beautiful hair and a very pretty shiny eyes."

You blush with his words. You love it when Gavi talks about you like that. It makes you feel some type of way.

"I might know her." You answer shyly.

He laughs at your red cheeks. He exits his car, walking over to you and hugging you. "I missed you." He whispers in your ear. Leaving a kiss there.

"I missed you too," you say to him. "Let's get inside. It's really hot." You wave air with your hand.

You grab his hand and open your door. You noticed he has something in his hands. You look at him with a doubtful expression.

"Your abu sends you this." He hands you the bag. "She mentioned to me that you need to open it and try it."

You thank him for bringing you what your grandma sent you. You even thank him for going to see her and spend time with her.

You spend the rest of the day with him, cuddle on the couch, and watch his favorite movies. He was telling you about his family reunion, his trips around Sevilla. Everything.

"What if we go out to eat?" He asks, kissing your hair. "I know I shouldn't break the diet, but I just want to go out with you."

You nod, kissing him and going to freshen up. You fix your hair and brush your teeth. Apply more lip oil and reapply perfume.

He drives to your favorite restaurant, he asks for a corner table, not wanting to he spotted or bother when he's with you.

You tell him about your last few days, how stressed you were, and why you didn't answer any of his texts.

He loves hearing you talk about your day, even when it was just a ramble of two things or about the same thing over and over but in different situations.

"Do you want dessert?" He asks.

You shake your head no. You want to even unbutton your jeans because of how full you feel. Even breathing makes you feel fuller.

"Then let me pay, and we are on our way." He says, calling the waitress to pay.

You two walk out of the restaurant. Gavi has a hoodie that he had in his car. He asks you if you want to walk around, you say yes.

"Mom says that when she's back, she will teach you how to make that cake you loved." He smiles, hugging you by the waist. "That way, when you learn how to make it, you can make it for me."

"I will make it for you whenever you want to." You kiss his cheek. "Stay with me tonight, yes?"

He nods, tightening the grip he has on you. You two pass a man selling single roses. Gavi bought one for you. Handing it to you and stealing a quick kiss.

yourusername has added to closefriends.

"Do you want to go out tonight?" Alexa, your friend, asks you.

"I can't. Have something to do." You lie.

That thing you had to do was Pablo coming over to stay inside with you. He called you earlier and asked you to be home.

He was getting food for the two of you and wanted to see this new movie that he was too busy to see.

"Okay then." She shrugged. "If you change your mind, we are going to be at La Bodega. Text me." You nod, saying goodbye.

You drive home, listening to your shared playlist that Gavi created for you. That way, when you were together, the songs you liked were going to mix.

As soon as you get home, you clean the small mess you have in the living room. You take a shower to erase the sweat from the weather.

You decide to watch your show while you wait. Making time for Gavi to get out of whatever he's doing.

After a few episodes, you realize that Pablo was later than what he usually is. You check your phone to see if he texted you or something.

Nothing.

You sent him a text asking if he was okay. You want to make sure that it was just him being late, or maybe he got caught up doing something else.

After the first five minutes, you thought < maybe he's busy >

After ten, you started to worry. < what if during recovery, he hurt himself? >

After more than an hour, you decide to call him. The beeping of the line and the authorized voice of his voice mail made you even more worried.

You tried again. Nothing.

You calm yourself, maybe he got busy with something and couldn't come. Maybe he's in a meeting and you were interrupting.

You continue watching your show, trying to leave the worry away. He was fine. He has to be.

You get up and prepare yourself some instant Ramen. Your plans of waiting for Pablo are now long forgotten.

You didn't understand, but you didn't make it bigger. Two missed calls and a few unread texts were everything you did, and it was enough.

At one time, you turn your tv off. Walking to your room and getting into bed. You check your phone one last time, confirming that Pablo read your texts but didn't answer them.

He was going to explain himself later. It was all okay.

But... was it?

Pablo took not one day or maybe two. It took him five days before he showed up at your door.

You might think that after the texts, the missed calls, after you basically were dead worried about him.He was going to explain himself.

Thar he was going to give you the resume of what happened for him to be ignoring you like that.

But no, Pablo didn't do that.

He even asked you why you were blowing up his phone. HE was confused.

"Gavi, you told me you were coming and when you didn't. I got worried." You tell him, sitting next to him on the coach. "I even thought that maybe something happened to you during recovery."

He opens his eyes. "No, don't say that." He chuckles. "God, no."

"Then what happened?" You ask, hand on his cheek. "Tell me."

He thinks for a while, not sure what to tell you to calm you down.

"Aurora and Javi got into a fight." He says. "And I needed to be there for her. You understand that my sister was in distress and I wasn't going to leave her alone. I'm sorry I got busy, I really am."

You calm down, believing his dumb story. "No, you did the right thing." You say, caressing his skin. "I just got worried, that's all."

He pushed your head towards him. Giving you a kiss. "I'll make it up." He smiles, not worried Bout a single thing. "Now, why don't we watch that movie I told you about?" He asks, kissing you again.

You nod, letting the whole thing slide.

Oh boy, you were wrong for that.

After letting Pablo get away with that, he started to act differently. You blame it on him being stressed about the Sevilla game. Maybe he wanted to train extra hard and be prepared for anything.

You call him out for that. He apologized and invited you out. Insisting on going to dinner as a way for him to apologize.

He asked you to meet there since he was going straight up after training. He told you that the Mister decided for training to be in the evening.

You got yourself ready. Got your makeup on, your pretty hair well done. You got your nice perfume on.

All of that for him to be more than an hour late.

"Hey!" You say calling the waitress attention. "Can I get the check?"

She takes a look at your table, the empty bottle of soda, and your sad look was enough for her to feel bad.

"It's okay." She smiles. "It's on the house."

You thank her, already feeling too embarrassed to fight her for the check. You left some money for her, as a thank you.

You drive home, mad that you let this happen. You were expecting more from him, only to be let down by your own expectations.

You log into social media, trying to forget about your anger at him, only to find out a picture of him from only like thirty minutes ago.

gavirafan06

Liked by 763 others

gavirafan06 Gavi with a fan tonight.

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ferminxgavi wait is that the girl they are talking about on twitter?

gavirafan06 apparently they were out with his sister and his mom 🤔

masialover10 they say her user is @/antogmz but her account is private tho

He was out with someone else, and his mom and sister were with him.

You were waiting for him, and he didn't even have the decency of calling you and canceled the date.

You throw your phone to the bed. Went to the bathroom and did your skincare. You feel down, Gavi wasn't like that. Not with you.

You give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she was a fan who was casually in the back or someone else.

You don't want to make assumptions. You want him to explain himself. Even when you already decided that he was innocent.

Aurora called you the next day. Asking you if you wanted to go out and have some lunch together. You agreed to meet her.

She asked you to pick her up, thing that you agree with, too. You got ready and drove to her brother's house.

You want to talk with Gavi, ask him why he didn't showed up, but you don't want to look pushy or like a bother.

You ring the doorbell. After a few seconds, you are greeted by Belen. She got happy to see you, hugging you and pulling you inside the house.

You make small talk with her, she mentioned how much she wants you to come over so you can learn those food recepies you always ask her.

"I promise that I'll make time to come sometime around this week." You say, waving goodbye at her.

Aurora and you walk out. She was happy to see you and be able to talk to you. You were happy too, she was an amazing friend to you.

"Are you coming tonight?" She asks casually.

You look at her, confused about what she's talking about.

"What's tonight?" You ask. "I've been busy, and I've been forgetting things, sorry." You say, pretending to understand what she meant.

"Pablo is hosting a barbecue. His friends from Sevilla are in town, and he wants to celebrate with them." She exolains to you. "You remember now?" She laughs.

You nod, smiling at her. You feel your stomach turning. Gavi got the friends you two have in common, invited them, and left you out.

"Aurora, can I ask you a question?" You ask her.

"You just did." She jokes, making you roll your eyes as you chuckle. "Go on, ask me."

"But, promise me you'll be honest with me." You say, frown in your face.

She stops eating to look at you with a serious face. "Of course. What is going on?"

You think the question a few moments. You don't know how to deliver it and make it sound like a doubt, and not like a desperate thing.

"Is Gavi seeing anyone?" You finally ask.

She starts coughing. Lifting her hand for you to give her a moment. "Sorry, I ate too quickly." She lies.

You hand her the glass of water, trying to help her pass the food. "You okay?"

She nods, gaining composure. "Sorry, yes. I am." She says, drinking water. "Why are you asking me that?" She asks back.

You shrug. "He's been kind of ghosting me." You explain. "And I don't want to hurt myself and think that maybe what we have is going to work and then find out that he is seeing someone else."

She softened the expression on her face. "Y/n." She sighs. "Pablo likes you more than he cares to confess." She says, grabbing your hand. "Believe me when I tell you that he only thinks about you."

You smile at her. Happy with her answer.

"He's been busy." She excuses him. "With all the training and him wanting to be as ready as possible for the match, I think he's been out of the blue."

You nod, understanding that he was worried about his comeback. Busy with his own life and trying to make it out as if.

"Well, I'm calmer now that you tell me that." You smile at her. "Thank you." You say, squishing her hand.

You go on with your day, the bright smile you have on your face was something nobody was taking away.

You drive Aurora home, asking her to tell her mom that yoh will be back to learn everything she wants to teach you.

You then drive back home. You need to finish some projects. You texted Gavi, letting him know that Aurora told you Bout the barbecue and asking if he needed anything.

He only texted that he would come over to talk.

You don't pay mind to that. Finishing with your homework and even using the free time to do some upcoming projects.

You don't notice the time passing by, until someone knocks on your door. You check the time. It was 5 pm.

"Hola," you smile at Gavi. Moving to the side to let him in. "Before you say anything, Aurora already told me that you've been busy and very tired and I totally understand why you forgot about dinner."

He frowns, not even understanding what you meant by that. "Okay." He says, shrugging. "Talking about Aurora, you told me she invited you over tonight?" He asks.

You nod happy. "She did. That's why I was asking if you needed me to bring something."

He scratches the back of his neck. Trying to find a way to say what he was about to say.

"Are you oka-" You were asking, until you got interrupted by him.

"You can't come." He says. The serious tone of his voice makes you shiver.

You frown. Looking at him not understanding.

"What?"

He sighs. "You are not invited." He says, looking annoyed. "Aurora wasn't supposed to invite you, and frankly, I don't want you there."

You feel the knife stabbing you in the heart. He didn't want you there. You stayed silent for a few minutes.

He's trying to read your blank expression, but he can't.

Your vision becomes blurry. "Oh." You whisper. "Okay."

He feels bad about hurting your feelings.

"Y/n, list-"

"You should go." You interrupt him. "It's getting late, and you'll have people over." You say, walking to the kitchen.

You don't want him to see you cry, but you can't help the sob that scapes your lips. That makes him feel even worse.

"Preciosa, listen." He tries one more time.

"No, Pablo." You turn around mad. "You need to leave." You say, stern tone. "Now!"

You clean your tears. You refuse to cry in front of him. You don't want to show him how much this situation is affecting you.

"Why are you so mad?" He asks, exasperated. "You act as if you are my fucking girlfriend." He shouts.

You pass from the sadness to anger in one sentence. Your fight mode activates.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Pablo." You say, trying to hide the angry sob that scapes your lips. "I'm sorry that I act as if I'm someone you treat me like. I'm sorry I'm crying because I genuinely thought that you cared about me, and now I'm realizing that you don't. "

He rolls his eyes. That only makes you feel so much fury.

"I do care about you." He says. "But fuck, I never told you we were a thing. You assumed things up, and now you are blaming me for it."

You let out a laugh. "I assumed?" You ask. "I assumed things up when you called me all those nicknames? Huh?" You start pointing out. "I assumed things up when you held my hand, kissed my lips, slept over in my bed? Huh?"

He's silent, knowing that there's no going back from here. "Liste-"

"No!" You shout. "Did I assumed things up when you were fucking me?" You ask, the bitter tone is evident. "I gave you everything, Pablo. And you can't even give me a decent excuse. Are you really blaming me?"

"Did I asked you to give me all that?" He asks.

That simple question makes you understand everything. Your energy got all down. You don't even want to keep talking.

"You are right." You nod. "You can leave now, message received."

He stops the hard frown that's on his face. He softens his look. What he just did was not what he wanted to happen.

He wanted for you to understand that he never wanted something serious, but he let it go for more than he should.

And even when he does like you, he can't be with you like he wants to. He needs to keep his distance, and you are making things more difficult than it should be.

"Go, please." You beg, trying to hold the tears. "Enjoy your party, and I hope you enjoy playing again."

You walk away from him. If he wanted to stand there, you weren't going to see it. You slam the door of your room.

You place a pillow on your face, yelling the frustration on it. Shutting the scream that your heart was letting out.

Gavi left, slamming the door on his way out. He cursed everything that was on his view radar. Blaming himself and his stupid boy mind. But not enough for him to turn around and do the right thing.

You cry into your pillow. You are hurt and confused about why he was acting like that.

He wasn't your Pablo, the one who brings you flowers just because.

He wasn't your Pablo, the one who takes you out on dates and walks after training because he misses you. Even when he saw you before training.

He wasn't your Pablo.

But not even Pablo was your Pablo.

You feel tired and falling asleep during the crying process.

When you woke up with a headache and puffy red eyes, you know it wasn't a dream. Gavi just told you that he doesn't see you the way you see him.

You got up, walked to your bathroom, and washed your face. You shrugged and decided to take a shower.

Your day began good, you even had some fun time with Aurora. Who would've thought that I was going to be the last time you did that.

You slowly do your night routine, trying to feel better. As if that's what you need. You order take out and decide to eat it while watching your show.

When you get tired, you open your Instagram. The first post is a story Gavi posted. You click on it and enter his profile, unfollowing him.

You think for a second. Angerly deciding that you were not only going to do that but also blocking him in the process.

You went then to your feed, refreshing it after a while. It didn't have anything good for you to engage.

You move to Twitter. The first thing you find is a tweet about this girl named Antonella. She apparently was Gavi's new fling.

You read through the tweets, finding out that she was the girl that the Instagram comments were talking about.

You read that someone mentioned her Instagram account. Deciding that it wasn't enough pain for one day, you went back to Instagram. Searching her.

You click her profile, noticing something very interesting. She follows you. You clicked on "follow back" requesting to follow her.

You don't have to wait that long after she accepts your follow request. You go straight to her posts, stalking her like a crazy fan.

You find something very interesting. Gavi liked and commented on her posts. But that didn't really surprised you.

It was Aurora's likes and comments on her page. Commenting like she knew her from all her life. You were closed to the two of them, and you can't remember anyone with that name or that looks.

You click on her story, only to find out why Gavi didn't want you at his barbecue.

antogmz has added to her story

You know Pablo a little too much to recognize him. And even if you have a little doubt about it, the background gives you all the answers.

He was at his house. He threw a party with all the friends you thought you two shared. But they aren't your friends if they know he's with someone else and decide to hide it from you.

You block your screen. Tired of going out of your way to make Gavi someone so on top of everything. You can't keep putting him before you. Not anymore.

What hurt you the most was that Aurora knew about it.

You can't blame her for siding with Gavi. She's his sister, so it was obvious that she was going to prioritize him over you.

But when you asked her if Pablo was seeing someone else, she denied it. Telling you that he likes you and that he only thinks about you.

She lied to you, giving you fake expectations.

You blink the tears away. You don't want to cry. You already feel dumb enough to keep humiliating yourself for him.

After a while, you open your phone again, you don't want to think about him. You start to see the insta stories of your friends.

That's when you see the one from Aurora.

aurorapaezg has added to her closefriends.

You see the tags on her story. It was everyone. The only one who wasn't invited was you. And you can't get mad, the sadness overpowering every feeling.

You tried to distract yourself, checking your feed again to see what's happening. Maybe finding a funny video or something. But no.

You click on that one picture even when you know it was going to hurt.

gavixpedri

Liked by 2,284 others

gavixpedri New picture of Gavi and his alleged girlfriend @antogmz in his Barcelona home.

There's rumors that she's going to be at the game against Sevilla. If that's true, then this will confirm their relationship.

Gavi and Anto have been linked up since a few weeks ago. People from Sevilla mentioned that he was seen with her on different occasions.

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gavilover9 I thought aurora's friend was his girlfriend

gavixpedri No 😭 she's only a friend after all

barcamessi10 this is the hardest launch I've ever experienced 😭😭😭 he was in recovery a few weeks ago and now he has a girlfriend

gavixpedri I knowwww 😔 we missed a lot of chapters. I stayed at the one where Y/n and him were allegedly a thing 😭

This was from the same night that he left you waiting on the restaurant. He was with her.

You try to stay as low profile as you could. Gavi tried to contact you over text and tried calling. You left all his messages go to voice mail and made sure to mark as read all his texts.

You were coming back from Uni when you found that particular car parked in front of your house. You take your keys out, walking without stopping.

You were about to walk inside your house when you felt an arm pulling you away from the door.

"Just give me five minutes." He begged.

"No!" You say, stern tone. "Let go off me." You order him.

"Four?"

"Let go off me, Pablo." You say again.

"Only one, please. I'm begging you." He beggs.

Those stupid puppy eyes he has are making the devils work. You can't say no to that, and he knows it.

"I'm counting, so you better start talking." You say, lifting your arm to see your watch.

He let go of your arm. "I'm fucking sorry I ever spoke to you in that way." He says, words coming out of his mouth as if he was rapping some Eminem song. "You are someone I find really important to me, and if I ever gave you the impression of liking you is because I really do. I just don't want to hurt you." He pauses to take a break.

You pull your arm down. "Ironic, cause you did hurt me." You say, trying not to sound so harsh.

"And I really regret everything. You are my friend and I shouldn't have played you like I did. I really want you back in my life. I just don't know how to work as a partner. That's why when you never asked me to label our relationship, I was fine with it because you were too."

"Did I ever tell you I was okay with that?" You ask, interrupting him.

He shakes his head no. "I'm sorry."

"Fine, apology accepted." You say. "Now, your time is over. Have a nice day, Pablo."

You were about to turn, but his hands stopped you. "I have this for you." He says, handing you a pass.

"What is this?" You ask confused, not taking it in your hands.

"It's a pass for tonight's match." He smiles. "I'm finally playing, and I want you there. You helped me in my recovery, and I can't thank you enough." He says, scratching the back of his neck. "I know I'm an asshole, I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry. But please, please, please come to the game." He says, begging again.

You look at the pass in his hand, not sure if you should take it or not.

"Please, at least take it and think about it." He says.

You nod, grabbing the pass from him. You then turn back and walk into your house. You close the door after you.

You look at the pass, it says your number and your seat. < Seat 332 >

Just like always.

You left the pass on your table. Not quite sure if you should go. What if his friends and family looked at you weirdly over you coming to his game?

You shake that idea out of your mind. Gavi's family loved you. Maybe not as his partner, but as the girl who helped him during his worse times.

And that was something nobody was taking from you. Ever.

You try to not think about the pass. You clean your house, you cooked lunch, you watch your show.

You even take a shower, something refreshing.

When you open your closet, you see the jersey. Mayne ut was a sign. Maybe you should go.

You take it as a sign for you to go. You changed into something appropriate for the game. You apply some light makeup and walk out to the stadium.

You were late, and you got into the stadium thanks to Gavi's pass. He asked beforehand for you to be allowed to get in, even if it was only a few minutes left of the game.

A security officer walks you to the vip section. You thank him for allowing you in, he just nodded and left.

You walk into the vip section. Standing over at the doors of the door that's dividing the seats from the lobby.

You noticed that Gavi was about to get subbed in. Everyone on the section was standing and clapping for him.

You can hear people chanting and screaming his name. Everyone was happy about it.

They were all too excited that people didn't really take a seat during the last eleven minutes of the game. That's all that Gavi played, including extra time.

People clapped at the fact that Barca won five to one. You can feel the tears in your eyes.

The longest eleven months of your life. At the same time, those months were short when it came to helping Pablo recover.

Pablo was looking over at the section you were in. People are still up, slowly seating down because it is the vip section. People don't just walk away.

Then the people that left are gone, and people are seated back. You were about to walk into your seat but you noticed something.

She was in your seat.

You look back at the field, finding his eyes on you. You move your eyes from him to the seat. Where she was waving her hand trying to get his attention.

You feel your vision getting blurry. Understanding that it wasn't your seat to take anymore.

It was hers.

🏷: @gadriezmannsgirl 🤍

189 notes · View notes

holdinggrudges · 2 days ago

Text

what's my flavor?

pairing: sam winchester x reader

content: EXPLICIT 18+, oral (fem!receiving), vampire!sam, blood drinking, bloodplay (surprisingly little though tbh), fem!reader (afab anatomy + the word girl used in reference like three times or so), feeding being explicitly referred to as similar to drugs/getting high, mentions of serious illness (made up for plot reasons but still)

word count: 10.5K

summary: Working your way through college, you find a secretary job with great pay and more than enough downtime on the clock to get your coursework done. The only downside is that it leaves you with no choice but to attend night classes. But it's not so bad, especially with Mysterious Hot Guy attending them as well. Oh, and there's been blood bags going missing, but you're pretty sure that's not going to be relevant to your life any time soon.

notes: this was supposed to be pwp. it was also supposed to be posted on halloween. clearly, neither of those things happened. but fuck it, we ball.

crossposted on ao3

You don’t understand how anyone could get through college without a job. You hear about people surviving off scholarships all the time, and you try your first year, you really do. But, God, something has to change. You can’t imagine working your way through school could be any more stressful than the budgeting, and the skipping meals, and the cards declining at the grocery store.

So you get a job. A good one, too; a secretary job at an office ten minutes away from your apartment, and only twenty minutes away from campus. The job is easy, with plenty of downtime for you to work on your coursework, and the pay is good. Better than good, even. The only problem is the hours; 9-5 is great, generally, but not very convenient when setting up a college schedule. You’re relegated almost exclusively to night classes. Which is fine. Not ideal, but fine.

You take four classes, two a night, and it leaves your Fridays wide open after work. It would truly be a perfect schedule if it didn’t mean you were on campus until 11 o’clock most nights. But the classes are relatively empty and none of your professors are total hardasses, so it’s not so bad. Actually, you start to really enjoy it.

You make a little game out of studying the other students, trying to figure them out. The woman who sits in front of you in your statistics class is a stay-at-home mom, you think. The older man a few rows down in english is retired military. It’s interesting, and it gives you a reason to actually make it to class everyday. Well, that and Mysterious Hot Guy.

Mysterious Hot Guy (or MHG, for short) is in two of your classes: your 6 o’clock political science class on Mondays and Wednesdays sitting a row down from you, and sitting beside you in your 8:30 biology class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He first caught your eye because, frankly, he looks more like he should be on a movie set than night classes at a dinky community college. He’s drop dead gorgeous, and that’s putting it lightly. Even so, that’s not what has you so intrigued. Something about him is off somehow, strange in such a way that it has you completely captivated. Alluring in a way you can’t quite put your finger on, even outside his appearance.

MHG hardly ever speaks. You’re pretty sure he’s only said one word to you the entire four weeks of the semester so far, and he sits literally a foot away from you every other day. He’s also, apparently, a genius. He never takes notes, never writes a single thing down, he never asks questions and never answers them either, for that matter. Still, you happened to catch a glimpse of his grade on the test your biology professor handed back last week, and he got a perfect score.

He also doesn’t have a car. Or, rather, he doesn’t have a car of his own. Every Tuesday and Thursday as you’re walking back to your own car at almost 11 PM, he’s climbing into the passenger seat of an absolutely gorgeous vintage Chevrolet Impala that makes you simultaneously green with envy and desperate for him to push you up against the side of it. Or push you down against the backseat. Or the front seat, which you find out is a bench seat after some minor googling. Car like that, you’re not exactly gonna be picky about where.

Still, even after all your observing, you don’t learn a single useful piece of information about MHG until six weeks into the semester—two weeks out from midterms—when your biology professor announces that you will be choosing your partners for the midterm project. You barely even let the words leave his mouth before you’re turning to your right, pouncing with what you hope is a normal amount of enthusiasm, although you’re so damn intrigued by this guy that all you can do is pray you don’t come across as a total stalker. “Hey. Would you wanna partner up?”

MHG turns to you, his eyes wide in a way that leaves you a lot less hopeful about how normal your greeting was. “Uh. Me?” he asks, and his voice is…warm in a way you weren’t expecting. He could do audiobooks, or a podcast, or something—he has a nice voice is what you’re getting at.

You laugh. You’re almost a little starstruck—it makes sense; you’ve definitely turned this guy into your own personal celebrity. “Who else?” you respond, holding out your hand for him to shake. “I’m ____.”

He eyes you for a moment before he clasps your hand and gives it a shake. Jesus, this guy must have anemia or something because his hand is fucking freezing. “Sam. Uh, Winchester. Sam Winchester.” His touch lingers for a moment before he tugs his hand back. “And…yeah. Yeah, we can…partner up.”

Sam Winchester. Finally, a name to put to the face. No more thinking of him as Mysterious Hot Guy for you; you and MHG are on a first name basis now. “Awesome,” you say softly, and you really, desperately hope your smile looks less manic than it feels. “So. Sam. Would you mind giving me your number or something so we can set up a time and place to meet up?”

He hesitates, but he does scribble a number down on the corner of his empty notebook page. “I, uh. I can’t do…daytime,” he tells you as he slides it over.

Okay. Weird way to phrase that, but you assume he’s like you, he works during the day or something. So you shrug and take the proffered paper. “Me neither. I have work.” You pinch it between your fingers with a grin. “We’ll make it work.”

He smiles at you, a shy sort of thing that makes your chest ache to draw out more. “Yeah. Okay.”

You plug the number in your phone almost as soon as you get home, but it takes you almost an hour to actually text him. You go through probably a hundred different drafts before you finally land on: ‘hey!! it’s ____. does friday work for you? my only day without classes lol’

Once you press send, you figure you’ll probably have at least five minutes to freak out and overthink. Sam doesn’t really seem the type to be glued to his phone. Which is why, you suppose, that you nearly have a heart attack when your phone buzzes with a response no more than 30 seconds later. ‘Friday works. 7 at the library?’

‘see you then :)’ You debate over the smiley face for a solid minute and a half before finally sending it and then violently throwing your phone across the couch and screaming into your throw pillow.

When you do finally work up the courage to pick your phone up again, he’s sent two texts back. ‘See you then.’ And then another one, a small bubble containing two characters: ‘:)’ Embarrassingly, you giggle alone in your living room. Oh, this guy is going to be the death of you.

You spend the rest of the night googling Sam Winchester and coming up with absolutely nothing. He seems to have absolutely no social media presence at all, not even an old MySpace or a private Facebook account. The only reference you can find to his name at all has it listed as one of two sons of some random serial killer from, like, the 1800s, which is obviously useless.

You give up your fruitless search with a sigh, closing your laptop and shoving it aside. Your tv is playing on some local news station—doesn’t matter which one, they’ve all been reporting the same story for weeks. You click it off, 100% disinterested in hearing about the blood bags going missing from local clinics for the millionth time this month.

You go to bed and dream of brown hair and eyes that you just can’t quite place the color of, but you can swear you see them flash red.

Friday finds you at the library almost a full hour early. You’d agonized over your outfit all day yesterday, and for another half an hour after work to boot. In the end, you’d decided to go casual. After all, it is just a study date—and actually, not a date at all! A study meet-up. A study hangout, at best. The fact that you did your make-up and your hair for it is entirely irrelevant.

It’s 6:45 when a cough draws your attention up from your phone. Sam is standing in front of you with another one of those shy smiles, and two coffee cups in his hands. Coffee cups from your favorite cafe. He shoves one in your direction. “Uh. I’ve noticed that you have drinks from here pretty often. And- I hope you don’t mind, but I…I read one of the cups? So. This is for you.”

Your eyes flick over him, your heartbeat practically pounding out of your chest. So he’s been watching you too. Or—Jesus, not watching, that makes it sound creepy. Observing is a better word for it. He noticed a pattern in your coffee cups. He read one to find out what it was you were drinking. “Thanks,” you tell him, taking the cup from his hand. Turning it to read the writing, you find he’d gotten it right. Maybe you should find it creepy, actually. As it is, you’re sort of having a hard time not swooning. You beam at him. “I’ll…have to return the favor.”

For some reason, that makes Sam laugh as he sits down across from you. “Sure.” He opens his backpack and takes out his laptop. “So, this project.”

Sam, as it turns out, is a genius. Or at least exceptionally smart. A project that would’ve taken you hours on your own is done in record time with him, which leaves the two of you there at 7:30 with a fully completed midterm project and half-empty coffee cups. You don’t want to leave, and it seems Sam doesn’t either, as he closes his laptop and asks, “Why are you taking night classes?” like he’s really, genuinely curious.

So you tell him. You tell him about trying to get through college on your own, deciding you needed a full time job, how it’s probably the best job you’ve ever had. You ask him the same question, and he tells you about his brother, who is, apparently, the one who drives that fucking awesome car. He drops Sam off at classes, and pretty much anywhere else he needs to go.

The two of you chat for an hour and a half before Sam gets a text that says his brother is literally going to leave him there if he doesn’t shag ass and get in the car pronto. So Sam walks you out of the library.

“You know,” you blurt out before you can lose your nerve, “I feel like our classes would be a lot easier if we put our heads together like this. You know, regularly. Like, every Friday, maybe.”

He ducks his head, smiling that same shy smile he’d had when he gave you the coffee. “Sure. Every Friday. Sounds…helpful.”

You don’t realize until you get home that he never actually told you why he takes night classes. It turns out to be a pattern for him, as the two of you meet up week after week. You simultaneously feel like you know everything and nothing about him, and every week you like him more and more for it. Well, for that and the coffee that he gets you every time.

It takes a week before he moves seats in your political science class. The Monday after the second Friday you meet up with him, you almost sit in the wrong seat because you’re so used to him sitting two rows ahead of you. Of course, when you realize what’s happened, Sam’s staring at you with an amused grin on his face, like he’s trying really hard not to laugh at you. So, you decide, you are friends, at least. And as far as friends go, Sam’s a pretty good one.

You and Sam text, constantly. Despite seeming relatively unplugged, he responds to you instantly almost every time. You hate to get your hopes up, but by the time finals roll around, you’re starting to really like him. You’re starting to think he really likes you too.

He finishes his biology final on the last Thursday of classes long before you, but when you leave the classroom, you see him leaning against the wall, waiting. Again, you don’t want to get your hopes up, but when he lifts his head and sees you approaching him, you swear to God, you see his whole face light up. He looks a little pale, maybe. But it also might just be the fluorescent lights of the hallway.

“How do you think you did?” he asks, falling into step beside you.

And, you think, it’s now or never, now, isn’t it? Classes are over. You may never see Sam again (although, you like to think the two of you are close enough now that you would at least remain friends outside of having classes together, but still, the sentiment remains). So you change the subject and ask, “Would you wanna get dinner with me on Saturday?”

He pauses, freezes in place pretty much, and you stop to match him. “Dinner, like…dinner?” he asks, as if that question makes any sense.

You laugh, a little awkward, and adjust your backpack straps. “Uh, yeah. Like, dinner.” You don’t want to explicitly mention it being a date. You feel like he likes you, you really do, but if you’re wrong…that rejection is going to sting. So you don’t say it, not explicitly.

But still, Sam’s face lights up with a grin. “Yeah. I’d…really love to get dinner with you, actually. I’ll have to—I’ll text you. But…yes, yeah. I’d love to.”

You’re pretty sure the smile on your face matches his. “Okay. Then, I’ll see you on Saturday. And you’ll text me.”

“I’ll text you,” he agrees.

The two of you linger for a moment before parting, and you have never been more excited to say goodbye to someone in your entire fucking life.

When you get home, you have a text message. ‘I’ll pick you up. Does 7 work for you?’

You have to take a moment to squeal into your pillow before answering that yes, 7 does work for you, and you’re excited to see him then. And then, as an afterthought, your address.

God, you need to find something to wear.

Saturday comes around, and you’re fully ready by 6. Sam’s almost always shown up early, after all. Your TV plays news footage, stating that the clinics have taken to putting up extra security around their blood banks to no avail. You couldn’t care less, too giddy and girlishly excited to even think about the stolen blood bags.

6:45 rolls around. Sam isn’t there. That’s…fine. He’s not obligated to show up early. You set up a time to pick you up for a reason, right? There’s no reason for the sinking feeling in your gut.

7:00. No sign of Sam. But that’s no reason to worry. Maybe he got stuck in traffic. People are late sometimes, and you don’t need to panic just because Sam’s never been late before.

At 7:30, you shoot Sam a text. ‘are you okay? don’t tell me you forgot about me :( lol’ You don’t get a response.

You don’t change back into lounge clothes until 8, and you don’t take off your makeup until 8:30, and that’s only because you’re pretty sure you’re about to start crying and ruin it anyway.

The real kicker is that you thought Sam, at the very least, considered you a friend. Or at least friendly enough to let you down easy rather than agree to a date and then stand you up. Clearly, you severely misread the entire situation. You entirely misunderstood Sam in general, if he’s really the type of person to do this sort of thing.

Wiping hot tears off your face, you cork open your expensive bottle of wine. Desperate times, right?

Two hours and half a wine bottle later, you’ve swung from devastated to angry. How dare he stand you up? You’re a catch! You’re gorgeous, you’re funny, you’ve ignored all of his weird quirks and red flags, and for what? To cry into a glass or five of overpriced wine on a Saturday night? Screw that. You should call him and give him a piece of your mind.

Or…no, you’re pretty drunk, actually, so you probably shouldn’t call him. But you could text him. Yeah. You fumble for your phone, furiously typing out a text and hitting send without a second thought. ‘if u werent interested in me u cldve just said so. didnt have 2 ghost me’

Next thing you know, you’re opening your eyes the next morning with a killer headache, a damn near empty bottle of wine, and no response from Sam. While you’re curled over the toilet, the alcohol isn’t the only thing turning your stomach. There’s a worry brewing there too.

Because the more you think about it, the more that this really just doesn’t feel like Sam. Now that you’re further out from it, you can acknowledge that much. When you ask yourself if you truly believe that the guy who bought you your favorite drink every time you met up, the guy who remembered every single thing you ever told him, the guy whose face totally lit up when you asked him to dinner—when you ask yourself if that guy would stand you up, you truly, honestly don’t believe he would. So the real question is: why did he?

You fight through the worry until about halfway through your shift on Monday when you realize that with finals over, you have absolutely no idea when, or even if you’ll see Sam again. You call him. It rings all the way through until you get his voicemail, and you wish the sound of his voice could calm you, but it only reminds you that he’s not answering. You don’t leave a message, sending him a text instead. ‘seriously, are you okay? please at least let me know you’re not dead.’ You’re not surprised to find you haven’t gotten a response the next time you check your phone, walking to your car at the end of the day. Desperately, heart-clenchingly worried, but not surprised.

You open your laptop the second you get home, furiously searching anything you can think of. You search for his name again, hoping to find anything that could point you towards family or friends, to the brother he mentioned. You search local obituaries, John Does, anyone who might even bear the slightest resemblance to Sam, but there’s nothing. Nothing, until you accidentally click on one of the articles about the blood theft. There, in a blurry screenshot of footage from the new security cameras one of the blood banks had installed, you see it. You recognize his brother’s gorgeous fucking car.

Your eyes go wide. Holy shit, you’ve been flirting with a criminal. You scroll up through the article, reading furiously, but it doesn’t even mention the car, focusing instead on the blurry, shrouded figure entering the doors. Is this why Sam went missing? Laying low until he can be sure no one will connect the footage of the car to him or his brother? Why the fuck is he stealing blood bags in the first place? Needless to say, the discovery leaves you with more questions than it does answers.

The world, unfortunately, does not stop with this revelation. You go to bed. You get up, you go to work, you come home. You think about Sam. You have no idea what you’re supposed to do in this situation. Should you go to the police? It’s not like he’s killing people but…it’s still illegal to steal blood bags. Also morally wrong, probably. Plus, you now have information that could help forward an ongoing police investigation. You’re not entirely sure what counts as aiding and abetting, but you’re not exactly itching to find out where the line is.

On the other hand, Sam never seemed particularly…criminal-like to you. Strange, sure, but he was nice. Kind, even. You never in a million years would’ve pegged him as some sort of criminal mastermind. That’s got to count for something. Right? At the very least, you think it allows him the benefit of the doubt. So…late Tuesday night, you send him another text, the last one you’ll ever send him. Probably. ‘hey so keep ignoring me if im wrong but are you the one stealing blood from the clinics?’

He doesn’t text you back, and you pretend that means you’re wrong. That you can clear your conscience and go to sleep. That you can go to work and stop worrying about vintage cars in blurry security footage.

Then the sun goes down on Wednesday, and someone knocks on your door.

The man on the other side of it is unfamiliar to you. He’s wearing a leather jacket, an amulet hanging off his neck. There’s absolutely no reason you should recognize him as quickly as you do. Except that he has this quality about him, something unreal or maybe inhuman, and you’ve seen it before. You can’t quite tell what color his eyes are.

He smiles at you, and confirms it. “You’re ____, right? Sam’s told me all about you.” This is Sam’s brother, the one with the car. The car that you recognized in the blood bank footage. “I’m Dean. Can I come in?”

You keep your hand on the edge of the door, ready to slam it in his face if need be. “How’d you get my address?” you ask, instead of answering the question. This man could be dangerous. You trust Sam, mostly, but his brother…that’s a different story.

“Sammy had it. Remember? For your little date.” Dean says, taking a step towards the threshold. You take a step back. “Can I come in now?”

You ignore the fear raging down your spine, the urge to turn tail and run away. Sam carries himself differently than Dean, presents himself in such a way that instead of cowering away from him, you want to keep looking. His strangeness is intriguing, not off-putting. Dean, though, he takes those same qualities and twists them on their head. Dean looks at you, and your entire body screams Danger! Like he’s some sort of predator. “Why are you here?”

“Look, I don’t have time for this,” he snaps. He takes another step forward, but stays notably on the other side of the door. Just barely. “Sam needs help. Are you gonna invite me in, or not?”

He could be lying. He could be manipulating the affection you already have for his brother to get you to let him in so he can off you, maybe the only person who’s connected him to his crimes. But, if that was the case, why wouldn’t he have just forced his way in? And also, why the fuck would he go that far just to cover up some stolen blood bags? “What’s wrong with Sam?” you ask, stepping back from the door to allow him inside. When in Rome, right?

His lips press together, like he’s irritated, though you can’t imagine why. You’re letting him in, which is what he wanted. He stares at you for a moment before sighing, world weary, like he’s holding the weight of a hundred lifetimes of idiocy on his shoulders. Jesus, this guy’s dramatic. “You have to invite me,” he grits out.

Your confusion only grows, but you oblige anyway. “Okay…come in, then.”

Dean steps into the apartment almost as soon as you’ve said it, like you’ve only just now opened the door. You back up a few steps further.

“Just so you know,” you say, standing up taller and trying to act less terrified than you feel, “I have a gun. So don’t- don’t try anything ‘cause I’ll shoot you.” You’re completely bluffing, of course, but there’s no way Dean could know that.

“No, you don’t,” Dean says, like he definitely knows you were bluffing. Well, great. “Besides, I’m not here to hurt you. My brother needs help, you think I’m gonna kill the only person who can help him?”

He doesn’t look like he’s lying. Then again, you’re pretty sure this man is a criminal, so maybe he’s just a really good liar. “Yeah, you said that before. If he needs my help so bad, why didn’t he just tell me himself?” It’s not like you slammed the door in Sam’s face and told him to leave you alone. You’ve sent him four texts and a phone call since he dropped off the face of the earth last week. He’s had every opportunity to ask for your help.

“Cause he’s sick,” Dean tells you. He lifts his hands before he approaches you, like you’re some sort of wild animal that he doesn’t want to spook. Embarrassingly, it works. “Really sick.”

You shake your head, bemused. “I don’t understand—what does that have to do with me? If he’s sick, he needs a doctor. Not…a random college student.”

Dean nods. “Yeah, he would. But he’s got…it’s complicated.” He pauses in his approach and nods his head toward you. “Can I come closer, or are you gonna shoot me, tough girl?”

You roll your eyes, but gesture him closer. “Be my guest, so long as it means you’re gonna tell me something that actually makes sense.” You’re tired of the riddles, frankly. If he doesn’t give you real answers soon, you don’t care how terrifying he is, you’re gonna have to do something drastic.

Dean scoffs. “Yeah, I can see why Sam likes you,” he mutters, shaking his head. “See, me and Sam…we’re not exactly normal. If I took him to a doctor, not only would they not be able to fix him, they’d probably kill him.” He stops beside you, forcing you to look up at him as he speaks. He cuts an intimidating figure, even without the air of a predator about him. You really, really wish you actually owned a gun.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, voice quiet in the face of this hunter. “That you’re not normal?”

He grins, big and sharp and toothy. And then his illusion drops. Your eyes seem to fail you, like someone’s dropped the floor out from under you and then told you the floor was never real in the first place. His eyes catch your attention first, blood red and striking. And then, of course, you see his teeth—no, his fangs. Two long, sharp, killer fangs where his canines used to be. “Welcome to the night of the living dead, sweetheart.”

Vampires are real. There’s a monster in your fucking living room. This is crazy. You should be screaming. You should shove this man out the door and lock it behind him and maybe never leave your apartment again. Instead, you blurt out, “So that’s why you were stealing blood bags.” Honestly, a lot of things are starting to make way more sense now. You’re almost embarrassed you didn’t think of it before.

Dean laughs. “Right on the money.” You flinch as he claps you on the shoulder, and he laughs at you again.

“So…I’m guessing Sam doesn’t just have a regular old stomach bug, then?” You really feel like you should be having a more extreme reaction to this situation. You just found out that not only are vampires real, but you’ve been actively flirting with one. You think maybe you’re in shock. “This is some sort of weird…vampire virus, or something?”

“Smart girl,” he says, pointing at you approvingly. “Though it’s not exactly a virus, more like…food poisoning. Actually, we call it blood poisoning. Comes from drinking stale blood—bagged blood, for example—rather than fresh from the source.”

You frown. “Why drink bagged blood, then, if it makes you sick?”

“Why do people go vegan even though they need protein?” Dean counters. “Harm reduction. Plus, it doesn’t always make us sick. It’s pretty rare, actually. More common now than, you know, the olden times, but it happened back then too. Storing blood in vials, bottles, anything can make blood go stale, but it means you don’t have to hurt as many people getting it. Some things are worth the risk.”

That much, at least, you can understand. “So this…this stale blood, whatever—it makes you sick,” you repeat, that same worry for Sam from before roiling in your stomach again. “How sick?”

Dean grimaces, so whatever it is is clearly not good news. “It can kill us. Pretty easily, too. I have to tell you, I don’t know exactly how it works. Sam’s way better at this sort of thing.” He taps his fingers against your coffee table. “But I do know how to fix it.”

It’s pretty easy to guess. Dean’s here, despite the fact his brother is apparently dying, and there’s really only one thing you have that they don’t. “He needs blood,” you say quietly, beating Dean to the punch. “Fresh blood.”

He nods and shoots you a stilted smile. “Quick on the draw, huh?” The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he sighs, shaking his head. “Sam hates what he is. Doesn’t matter that he’ll die without it, he won’t hurt anyone. He just won’t.”

You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly uncomfortable with Dean’s intense stare, like he can see straight into your soul. “So- so, what am I supposed to do about it?” you ask, your shoulders shrugging helplessly. “I’m still a person. I can’t force him to do something he doesn’t want to do.”

Dean takes a step toward you, and this time you don’t step back or shrink away. He’s dangerous, sure, but not to you. Not as long as you’re the only thing standing between his brother and certain death. “Look, Sam really likes you. If he knew I was here right now, and he wasn’t on his deathbed, he’d kill me. But I just—I’ve tried. It’s been a week, and I’ve tried so hard—” He ducks his head as he cuts off, his jaw working over clenched teeth. “I know that you care about him, right? I mean, I saw the texts; I know—I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t desperate. I can’t just sit around and watch my little brother die. I had to try. I have to try.”

Seeing him now, you almost can’t believe you were afraid of him. He looks almost terrified himself. And despite the uncertainty you feel, the fear, well…there’s a clear answer here. Yes, there’s a chance Sam refuses to feed from you, but there’s also a chance to save him. You can’t just stand back and let him die because you’re scared. “Okay.”

Dean’s eyes snap to yours again. They sparkle with hope, and even though the illusion is dropped, even though his eyes are red and his teeth are viciously sharp, for the first time since you first saw him, he looks human. “Okay?”

“Take me to him,” you tell him, moving past him to grab your coat off the hanger by your door. “Let me try to save him.”

Dean gives you the key to the apartment and a wish good luck, but stays in the car (which, yes, is just as nice as you imagined, though you wish you’d gotten to experience it under different circumstances). He tells you as you climb out the passenger door, “If this goes the way I hope it does, you two aren’t gonna want me there. Trust me.”

Apprehension keeps you rooted outside the locked door, biting a hole through your bottom lip. There’s a lot of ways this could go. Quite a few of them could end up with you dead, and you’d be a fool not to acknowledge that. Then again, you’d also be a fool not to acknowledge what you know about Sam, what Dean’s told you about him today. Kind, gentle Sam, who is sick and dying, but apparently still refuses to hurt anyone. Who drinks from blood bags, despite the risk, simply because it means he can live without harming others. He doesn’t deserve to die.

You take a deep breath, and unlock the door.

The apartment is…Well, it’s a little dingy, but it’s cozy. Homey. There’s clutter and trinkets on every shelf, books that look so old that you fear they’d disintegrate if you touched them. It occurs to you, then, that you don’t know how old Sam actually is. A memory flashes in your mind of his name mentioned in records from the 1800s. Holy shit.

“Dean?” You recognize Sam’s voice, but it’s thin and croaky. Weak. Really sick, Dean had said. “Are you home?”

You follow the sound of his voice into a bedroom, and the stale smell of illness almost makes you stumble back from the doorway. It doesn’t smell bad, necessarily, so much as still and wrong. Sam’s been in this room, wallowing in sickness, for a week. Your heart aches for him. “Not Dean,” you say quietly, hoping not to spook him. You approach the bed, and only just keep from gasping at the state of the man curled up in it. Sam is pale and sunken, visibly weak and malnourished. He’s trembling, shaking all over with chills, maybe, or just tremors in general.

His face changes when he hears your voice, his brows furrowed in confusion. He opens his eyes and peers up at you over his cocoon of blankets. His eyes, like Dean’s, are red, but unlike Dean’s, they’re glassy and tired, his eyelids fluttering like he’s struggling to keep them open. “____? What…what’re you doing here?” He pushes himself up to sit, and you can see the effort it takes him to do even that, his arms shaking under his own weight.

You sit gingerly on the edge of the bed beside him. “Dean sent me,” you tell him, ratting Dean out immediately.

Sam groans, rubbing his hands over his eyes. The veins in his hands are standing out, ugly, mottled red under pale skin. As if the blood really had poisoned him. “I’m gonna kill him.” Wow, Dean hadn’t even exaggerated, huh?

“Not like this, you’re not,” you mutter, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “Jesus, Sam…” He’s ice cold to the touch like he’s been out in the snow for hours. You curl your hands around his, trying to warm him.

His gaze flicks to them, your hands barely covering his. “Sorry I missed our date,” he says, mournful like he really is repentant, like standing you up is the worst sin he could’ve possibly committed. “It…was a date, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it—I meant for it to be.” You huff out a laugh, sympathetic as you smile at him. “And, you know, somehow I can’t find it in myself to hold it against you.”

Sam laughs, and for the first time, you catch a glimpse of his fangs. They’re just as viciously sharp as Dean’s, but they somehow look less dangerous on Sam. You’d worry you’d been charmed or something (isn’t that supposed to be something vampires can do? You have to admit, you’re a little out of the loop of vampire lore), if you weren’t certain that Sam would never do something like that. No, not charmed, not in any sort of magical sense. “I’ll die happy then.”

Wow, you see the dramatics run in the family. “You’re not going to die,” you say firmly, releasing Sam’s hand to brush his bangs out of his face. He’s freezing all over. It makes you want to wrap him up in your arms, make sure he never goes cold again. You settle for pressing your palm against his cheek, your fingers cupping around his jaw.

“I am, though,” he shoots back, like he’s arguing about who’s answer on the homework is right, not about his actual, literal life. “I’m going to die. But that’s—it’s okay. It’s been a week, so I’ve sort of come to terms with it.”

“Screw that.” You turn more firmly towards him, pulling your legs under you to kneel on the bed. “Seriously, screw that. I can help you. If you think I’m just gonna- what, stand aside and let you die, then you really don’t know me at all.”

“Sure. And you’re just gonna fix me, huh?” He shakes his head, turning it away from you with a huff. “All sunshine and rainbows after that. Not like I’ll have to bleed you to get better, right? Oh, wait.” Oh, he’s such a fucking diva, even on his deathbed, apparently.

“Oh, my God—yeah! I sort of figured it wouldn’t exactly be pleasant.” You didn’t spend all that time hesitating at the door because you thought it would be a walk in the park. “But if the choice is between that and letting you die, there’s no contest. I don’t understand why you’re so set on it when I’m sitting here offering you a solution!”

“Maybe I don’t want to be saved!” His outburst silences you, especially because it seems to take a lot of energy from him to snap at you like that. He stares you down, red eyes meeting yours, and you…you don’t know what to say to that.

You can lead a horse to water, but… “Sam—”

He cuts you off with another shake of his head. “Dean…he used to tell me that what we are doesn't make us monsters, it’s what we do. And I really wish I believed that, but the thing is, I…am going to die if I don’t feed from someone, like- like a fucking parasite. What is that if not monstrous?”

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” you tell him. Slowly, cautiously, you reach for his face and replace your hand on his cheek, turning his gaze to meet yours. “I actually happen to think you’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. I don’t know what kind of monster would’ve apologized for getting deathly ill and accidentally standing me up.”

His eyes flick over your face, like he’s searching for something. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.” His voice, thin and mournful, is heartbreaking. “I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t know—I’ve never been sick like this before. It’s possible I won’t have a lot of control if I feed on you like this.”

That’s sort of what you were afraid of. But that’s the benefit of him feeding from you, rather than some random person off the street, right? You know what’s going on. “I won’t let you go too far,” you assure him. “Sam, please. I want to do this for you. Let me…let me help you.”

His eyes meet yours, and he seems to find what he’s looking for. He lifts his hand and brushes your hair back off your neck. “If I do this—if—it’ll hurt, at first,” he tells you, placing his hand on your shoulder. Just resting there. It sends sparks down your spine all the same. “But not for long. It’ll start to feel good, kind of like getting high. But if I—I’m not going to bite you if I’m not sure you’ll be able to stop me if I take too much.”

“I’ll stop you. If I have to.” You trust him, mostly. But you’re also aware that he hasn’t fed in a week, so you’re prepared to have to at least alert him to your blood loss.

His fingers trail along your neck, goosebumps following in his wake. His eyes follow the path of his touch, and his hands may be hesitant, but you can see the hunger in his eyes. Maybe you can make the horse drink, after all. “Are you sure?” he asks, and his hand moves to the back of your head. Bracing.

“I told you—” you say, your voice coming out almost as quiet as a breath— “I want to do this for you.”

“Okay.” He leans forward until you can feel his breath on your neck. It’s almost cold, unnaturally so. “Tilt your head a little more, that way—there you go,” he instructs, and that tone in his voice is…yeah. You are definitely glad Dean didn’t come in with you. His lips brush your skin when he speaks next, “Ready?”

“Yes.” You’re not sure how you manage to get your voice to come out as stable as it does. You bring your hands up to brace on his shoulders, and your grip goes a bit tighter when you feel his fangs press, just barely, against your skin. “Yeah, I’m—go ahead.”

You’ve never been bitten by a vampire before. You have no frame of reference of whether this is what it’s like every time, or if it’s just a Sam thing. Or if it’s just a you and Sam thing. But the whole process is intensely intimate in a way you weren’t expecting. Even when he first sinks his fangs in and it stings, makes you draw in a sharp breath. He’s a little uncoordinated, you think, and maybe goes in at a weird angle, because he draws his teeth out to sink them in again, but not before his tongue flicks out to catch the blood that drips down the side of your neck. The gasp that escapes you this time is not just from the pain.

He was right, of course. It does hurt at first. But the pain is offset by his hand on your head, his fingers curling just so to grip your hair. You swear you can feel in real time as he gets his strength back. As your blood flushes the sickness out of him. You’re not sure there is anything more intimate than that.

You think maybe you expected a transition between pain and euphoria, but there is no slow fade. In between one blink and the next, the pain disappears, replaced with a floaty, echoing pleasure that has your fingers clutching at Sam’s shirt. Everything around you goes a little unfocused, fuzzy, except for everywhere Sam touches, where you swear your nerves are lighting up with sparks and ecstasy. You might be making noises. It’s a little hard to tell, your senses dampened as they are.

“Sam…” You shove a little at his shoulders when you notice your hands start to shake. He hums, and you feel it on your skin. You can see, now, why he likened this feeling to getting high, although you’re not sure it’s the feeding that you can see yourself getting addicted to. You shove him a little harder. “Gettin’ dizzy here.”

He pulls back from your neck, and your senses return to you in a rush of sound and a pinprick sort of ache where his teeth had sunk into your skin. You watch, full focused vision returned, as Sam wipes at his mouth and then drags his tongue over his hand, now free of mottled veins, to catch the blood that had, you assumed, spilled as he drank from you. Like he can’t bear to waste a single drop. You swallow thickly, your mouth suddenly very dry.

“You taste like…” He trails off, and then his mouth is on you again, but not biting. No, his tongue drags up your throat, and it occurs to you—vaguely, through the fog of earth-shattering, soul-bending lust that settles over you—that if blood had spilled down his mouth, then it stands to reason that it had made a mess of your neck as well. Not that you’re complaining, if this is the result of a little mess. He makes a soft noise against your skin, his breath hot now in a way it hadn’t been before. “Taste like…” His voice peters off again, distracted or just unable to find the words to describe it.

Yeah, screw this. “Let me find out for myself,” you murmur, your hands moving from his shoulders to his face—and his skin, too, is warmer now, almost the temperature you would generally expect it would be—until you can drag him into a kiss. The answer, as it turns out, is blood. You taste like blood, although you sort of assume it tastes different to him. Strangely, the flavor isn’t as off-putting as you would assume, especially not when he groans and uses his grip on your hair to tilt your head, kiss you deeper. !You lick into his mouth, tasting your actual, literal blood on his tongue, and you…don’t have the words to describe how absurdly hot it is.

He’s not careful with his fangs, not really, lets them catch on your bottom lip and draw out pinpricks of blood that he soothes with his tongue. It makes the whole thing a little messy; he’s got blood smeared over his lips when you pull back to breathe. Your eyes track his tongue as he licks it up.

His hand, the one that’s not braced on the back of your head, brushes against the skin of your waist under the hem of your shirt. “Is this okay?” he asks quietly, still so close that you can feel the words on your lips.

Is this okay? You almost have to laugh at the question. As if you hadn’t wanted him since the first moment you saw him. “Yeah,” you tell him, a little smile tugging at your lips. “It is so absolutely more than okay.”

At your confirmation, he smiles too, and his hand rests more firmly on your waist, almost grounding. “Well, I didn’t buy you dinner first. Wouldn’t want you to think I was ungentlemanly,” he says, drawing a soft laugh from you.

“Aw, well. You did try.” You press forward, leaving a short kiss on his lips as your hand shifts from his face to tangle your fingers through his hair. “Plus, I mean…technically, I—”

Sam cuts you off with a kiss, but you can feel his grin against your mouth. “That does not count,” he protests.

“I dunno,” you say, a little sing-song in your voice as you grin at him. “I did quite literally just save your life. I think we might be a little past dinner.”

He scoffs, shaking his head at you. He’s not annoyed though. You can tell, because his fingers flex on your waist and then move, brushing up your side. “Uh-huh. Sounds to me like I’m slacking.” He ducks his head and presses two short, soft kisses to your neck, right on top of the pinprick aches. “I’ll have to repay you. You did just save my life, after all.”

Almost subconsciously, your fingers tighten in his hair. Anticipation settles in the small space between you, a space that grows even smaller when his hand presses against the small of your back and tugs your closer. “I did just save your life,” you repeat, your voice significantly breathier than it was before.

He laughs, a little puff of breath against your skin, and his lips drag down your throat in a line of open mouthed kisses until it lands at your pulse point. You swear to God, time slows down as he breathes in, slow and deep like he’s smelling your blood beneath your skin, and then presses his teeth to it until you can feel the points of them, precarious like water pooled on top of a penny. He doesn’t bite down, doesn’t break the skin, but fuck, you almost want him to. It seems like he wants to, too, as he closes his mouth with a snap. “Fuck…” He pulls back and lifts his eyes to yours. “Can I taste you? Please?”

It takes you a second to understand what, exactly, he means. He’d already tasted you; if he wanted more blood, he could’ve just bitten you again. Then, it clicks, and you…well, what are you supposed to say to that? Sam Winchester, all big, cow eyes and mouth smeared with your blood, so politely asking to eat you out, like you’d be giving him a gift. How could you possibly turn that down? “Yeah. Yeah, fuck, that’s—yeah.”

You only see his answering smile for half a second before his lips are on yours again, kissing, biting, while his hand caresses over the bare skin of your stomach. His kiss, his touch, is almost overwhelming, doesn’t leave you much room to think about anything else but him. Not that you really want to. He tugs at the hem of your shirt, pulls back just far enough from you to speak, and even then you can feel his lips move against yours as he asks, “Can I take this off?”

You really do laugh this time, drawing your hands down his neck and over his shoulders. “I appreciate the whole gentleman thing, I really do, but Sam, baby, I’ve wanted you since before I even knew your name. So let’s just assume that whatever you wanna do, I really fuckin’ want it, too.”

His eyes flick over your face, and you can literally feel the cocky ass grin he gets at that. It is, unfortunately, like everything else he does, ridiculously sexy. “That long, huh?” He’s such a dick. You want him more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your entire life. He tugs back and drags his gaze down your torso, his hand leaving your hair to join the other in toying with the hem of your shirt. “Guess I shouldn’t keep you waiting any longer, then.” His hands brush against the skin of your stomach as he pulls your shirt up and over your head before tossing it aside, not caring where it lands. You’ll find it later. Or you won’t.

His eyes lave over your newly bare skin, his hands following shortly behind. “You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing his palms flat against your stomach and dragging them up your ribs. “Can you lay back for me, darling?” he asks, even as his hands press you back against the mattress before you can respond.

You go easily, not in the least because the name knocks the breath out of you. “Darling?” you echo, shifting until you’re resting comfortably against the nest of pillows at the head of the bed.

Sam climbs over you, his knee nudging yours until you spread your legs to make room for his hips to settle between your thighs. “Is that alright?” he asks, ducking his head to press his lips to the hinge of your jaw.

More than alright, if the fluttering in your stomach is anything to go by. “It’s fine,” you say, playing it cool. Then, because his hands are rubbing up and down the bare skin of your sides and his teeth (the blunt ones, not the fangs, because he has much more self control than you do) are nipping at the skin of your neck, you play it decidedly uncool and continue, “Darling.”

You feel his answering smile against the skin of your collarbone as he and his kisses and his teeth travel down the line of your neck and chest, pausing at the edge of your bra. He lifts his eyes to meet yours through his lashes as his lips press the softest of kisses there. “‘M gonna take this off, now,” he tells you, his voice deep and rumbling. His hands move up your back, and you arch your spine to allow him room to do so. He undoes your bra clasp without removing his lips from your chest, tugs the garment down your arms and tosses it vaguely in the same direction as your shirt without a second thought.

“I thought about this, you know,” he says, softly, against the skin in the valley of your breasts. “Getting my mouth on you. How it would feel.” He shifts his attention, his lips closing over your nipple while his hand palms your other breast. It draws a soft gasp from your lips, your fingers twisting in his hair. “How you’d sound,” he continues, his voice a little cocky now.

“Sam…” His name falls from your lips on an exhale, like you’re breathing him in, like he’s pumping through your veins the same way you’re now pumping through his.

He smirks. If you thought he was cocky before… “Yeah, pretty much—” He presses that smirk against one nipple and brushes his thumb over the other, and while your head is dropping back onto the pillows with a moan, he laves his tongue over it to make you moan even louder— “just like that.” He's got you so distracted, you almost don't notice his free hand trailing down your stomach, brushing along the waistband of your jeans, not until his fingers undo the button with practiced ease.

“Oh, God, you are so unfairly hot.” You lift your head to watch as he kisses his way down your stomach until he finally reaches your waistband with his mouth, too, and leaves a nippy little bite there.

He laughs, glances up at you with that fucking smirk as he drags your jeans down your hips. “Unfair to who? You?” The two of you maneuver a bit until he can tug your pants off your ankles and toss them aside, another clothing casualty lost to the war on your sanity led by the swooping in your gut whenever Sam looks at you like that.

“Not me,” you elaborate, although it’s hard to do so when Sam’s hands are settling on your hips and his thumbs are rubbing slow circles on your skin and dipping just so under the elastic of your panties on every other pass. “But, like, every other guy. How is anyone supposed to compete with…this?”

This being Sam motherfucking Winchester, who had spent months shyly testing the waters and cautiously flirting so subtly that you were terrified you’d read him wrong, suddenly suave and confident and practically begging to eat you out. Oh, and also being, objectively, the hottest monster. This man has been terrorizing the dating pool for maybe centuries. You shudder to think how many women’s standards he has completely obliterated.

Continuing the streak of obliterating your standards, he ducks his head, that shy smile on his lips again. “I mean, I should hope no one is competing with me in this particular instance,” he says, voice hesitant as if there’s a chance on Earth you’d ever turn him down.

You shake your head, and honestly, you can’t help but laugh because a literal vampire is about to go down on you, and somehow the most unbelievable part of this situation is that he thinks he has an ounce of competition. “Are you actually asking me if I want to be exclusive right now?” you ask, drawing a hand up and through his hair, brushing his fringe off his forehead. “Because I feel like I made it so obvious how much I like you. Obviously, there is no competition.”

You have the honor of watching Sam blush for the first time, and knowing that you made it possible. Your blood flushes his cheeks, makes his face go the prettiest shade of pink you’ve ever seen.

“Obviously,” he echoes, his words brushing against the skin just above your panties. His hands brush down your thighs, and he pulls one of your legs up and over his shoulder so your heel rests against his back. He turns his head, and with your thigh now bracketing his head, it’s easy for him to press an open-mouthed kiss there, and then another, and then another until he’s brought you back practically to panting again.

“‘M gonna make you see stars,” he tells you, his lips pressed against the crease where your thigh meets your hip. “And then, because I am a gentleman, I’m going to buy you dinner. And I’m gonna be thinking about this—” He nips at your skin, bares his fangs this time and draws a well of blood and a gasp from you simultaneously— “The way you taste; the way you feel—I’m gonna be thinking about it the whole time.” He draws his hands back up to your hips just to tuck his fingers under the elastic of your panties, lifting his eyes to yours as he tugs on it. “Can I take these off?”

You think you might die if he doesn’t. “Please.”

His fangs seem to glint in the light when he grins, but he ducks his head before you can look again, a sort of hyperfocus to his posture as he shifts your hips and legs until he can pull your underwear off your ankles, and finally, finally, leaves you bare to him. He doesn’t waste a second, his hands dragging up your thighs and then spreading them further, his eyes roving over you like you’re the most beautiful work of art he’s ever seen. “Gorgeous.” His voice, breathy and sweet, washing over you is the only warning you get before his lips press against you in a surprisingly gentle kiss.

Your lungs expand on a gasp, and then deflate on a moan as he laves his tongue between your folds, the muscle pressed flat and soft like a tease. Or a preview. You’re not totally sure you’re going to survive this actually. You might die with Sam’s tongue licking over your pussy, and honestly, what a fucking way to go.

“Taste so good all over, huh?” Oh, holy fuck, he’s still talking. His lips brush over your skin and make you whine, and you’re pretty sure you can feel the vibrations of his voice better than you can hear him. “Feel like I should thank you. Letting me feed from you, and now this?” He makes it sound like it’s some sacrifice to let him go down on you, like you’re not gripping his hair so tight you’re surprised you’re not pulling it out. “You’re perfect.”

“Oh, my God,” your voice comes out high and tight as he closes his lips over your clit and sucks. Your back arches off the bed, but as your hips shift to press up against his mouth, you find his hand pressed low on your stomach, pinning you down. “Sam—oh, my God.”

You can feel as much as hear the soft, contented hums he’s making, like he’s never wanted to be anywhere more than with his head between your legs and his tongue drawing circles over your clit. His fangs, sharp and dangerous, are almost artfully pressed against your skin, just barely enough to feel the points of them. His free hand, the one not pressing you down against the mattress, keeps trailing up and down the outside of your thigh, making you shiver and press your heel into his back. And it’s so obvious he’s loving this maybe even as much as you are, his whole body shifting as he grinds down against the mattress, and God, that feels almost as good as his mouth on your cunt does. He’s getting off on the taste of you, on making you squirm and whine and moan.

It’s over the second he presses his tongue against your entrance and his nose smushes against your clit—everything after that is a jumble of sensation. The feeling of his tongue fucking in and out, his nose rubbing against you with every movement of his mouth, his hand grabbing at your thigh and holding your legs open when your muscles go tense and tight and anticipatory.

He draws his tongue out of you with an obscene slurping sound that just has you hurtling even faster towards the edge, your hands grabbing at his hair for dear fucking life, white knuckled. “Are you gonna come?” he asks, his voice low and gruff and almost fucked out. You squeeze your eyes shut, nodding as if it wasn’t obvious from the constant stream of noises spilling from your lips. “Yeah? Go on, come on my tongue. Give it to me, darling, let me taste it.”

How could you resist that? His words and his stupidly talented mouth draw you over the edge, your pussy spasming as you do exactly as he asked and come on his tongue. True to his word, he does, in fact, make you see stars, lights sparking behind your eyelids. His mouth works you through it until you’re whining and using your grip on his hair to tug him away, oversensitive as you come down from an explosive fucking orgasm.

He presses kisses on your inner thigh as he shifts it off his shoulder, your body loose and pliant now. “There you go, good girl.” The words make your cunt give a valiant twitch, even as he draws himself up your body until he’s laying beside you and pressing kisses over your face. “Was that good?”

You peek one eye open to look at him, incredulous. “Was that good—you’re so ridiculous, c’mere.” You turn your head to draw him into a slow, lingering kiss. Much like the taste of your blood in his mouth, the taste of your pussy on his tongue is, frankly, life-changing. You’re addicted already.

He draws back with a soft laugh, his eyes traveling over your face with such obvious fondness that you have to press another quick kiss against his lips. “Okay, understood.” He brings his hand up to brush over your face, soft and gentle and such a contrast to the obscene pleasure he’d taken in going down on you that it makes your cheeks go warm. “So when can I buy you that dinner?”

The question gives you pauses, and your eyes flick down his body, curious. “Did you not want me to…”

You watch your blood, again, flood his cheeks as he laughs and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “That’s not—I really like giving head,” he explains, as if that is not literally the hottest thing he could’ve possibly said.

Fuck dinner, you wanna go five rounds with him back to back right now. “Okay,” you say, because he’s very sweet and he wants to be a gentleman and who are you to take that from him? “You can take me to dinner, if you swear you’ll let me suck you off when we get back. Deal?”

The way his face lights up is worth having to wait. “Deal.”

“And,” you continue, your hand smoothing over his hair where your grip had mussed it up, “next time you need blood, let’s just skip the whole ‘I’m a monster’ thing. I am more than willing to supply you; I have a vested interest in keeping you around.”

He rolls his eyes, but the way he kisses you, fangs and all, tells you he gets it.

#sammy.txt #grudges_writes.txt #grudges_nsfw.txt #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #x reader #sam winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #vampire smut #sam munchester love of my life #smut #sam winchester smut #sam winchester fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 link #alternate universe #vampires

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mmarthajones · 3 days ago

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I think these are all really good points, but the thing that always gets me about these Mrs Bennet interpretations is they miss her favouritism and her general lack of care for her daughters.

She isn’t just anxious to get them married off for practicality’s sake. She wants them to do what she thinks is best with no reference to their personality or happiness, and she wants them to enhance her own clout in the neighbourhood.

Mrs Bennet is the mould of what Lydia will become: a person whose selfishness alienates people, in an unwise marriage, and with no sense that her daughters are people she should love other than the duty to get them married off to the most advantageous person who becomes available.

Yes, Mr Bennet doesn’t make the situation any better, but he himself is showing favouritism and hoping his daughters get conveniently married off so he can keep being entertained and having enough money with no effort from himself. There’s no love or respect between the two Bennets, but there’s also only so much love or respect for their children as people.

It’s rare Mrs Bennet’s “heart is in the right place” because at the end of the day, marrying off her daughters is a game to her, albeit one with high stakes for failure. And Austen turns this into a joke because she saw this around her, and she exaggerates it for comic effect. Mrs Bennet is the meddling mama. But Austen also shows us how damaging that attitude is to the daughters that have to live it. How it alienates them from their parents, and gives them bad role models to perpetuate, and ultimately all that damage becomes a joke to the parents that ought to be loving and helping their children out.

For the past several years (and perhaps longer) in the P&P fandom I've seen a lot of people who want to rehabilitate Mrs. Bennet: like, sure, she's uncouth and seems greedy, but it's because she cares so much about her daughters' futures; her situation is actually really stressful and uncertain and she's powerless to change it and her husband makes fun of her, and so it's natural that it would cause her to be anxious all the time; maybe she doesn't have the intelligence or social awareness to understand that her behaviour is actually harming her daughters' prospects, but at least her heart is in the right place.

I'm usually not the type of person who argues that fandom is actually being too nice to a female character, but in this case I don't buy the counter-narrative (which I think is popular enough at this point to be fanon / a narrative in itself) about Mrs. Bennet.

For one thing, she was never really powerless in this situation. These people are rich even for gentry. Mr. Bennet's income was always good, at 2,000 pounds per annum (even though I can't believe he isn't neglecting some practices that could raise it higher). Mrs. Bennet had 4,000 pounds from her parents and a further 1,000 from Mr. Bennet. Invested in the 4 per cents (for example), this is 200 pounds per year in pin money that Mrs. Bennet could spend without touching the principle of her dowry, and without affecting Mr. Bennet's income. This is more than some people's entire yearly incomes.

The picture of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet that we get in P&P is not of people who are helpless against their circumstances, but of people who are extraordinarily neglectful. We're told that:

Mr. Bennet had very often wished, before this period of his life, that, instead of spending his whole income, he had laid by an annual sum, for the better provision of his children, and of his wife, if she survived him. [...] When first Mr. Bennet had married, economy was held to be perfectly useless; for, of course, they were to have a son. This son was to join in cutting off the entail, as soon as he should be of age, and the widow and younger children would by that means be provided for. Five daughters successively entered the world, but yet the son was to come; and Mrs. Bennet, for many years after Lydia’s birth, had been certain that he would. This event had at last been despaired of, but it was then too late to be saving. Mrs. Bennet had no turn for economy; and her husband’s love of independence had alone prevented their exceeding their income.

We also know that the "continual presents in money which passed to [Lydia] through her mother’s hands," plus her allowance and food, amount to about 90 pounds per year. Rather than saving up from the beginning in case the entail is not broken, rather than beginning to save once it's clear a son will not arrive, rather than making Jane's dowry the full 5,000 from her mother (which would be something) and saving up for the younger girls' dowries thereafter—which is what would be typical, and that's why Lady Catherine was so shocked that all the girls were out at once—Mrs. Bennet's housekeeping, dress, the girls' allowance, presents of money over and above their allowance, plus whatever Mr. Bennet is spending money on (and other expenses relating to servants, carriages, maintenance &c. which are unavoidable), add up to their entire income. The only reason why Mrs. Bennet doesn't overspend even that is that that's where Mr. Bennet puts his foot down.

Mrs. Bennet is actively harming her daughters' prospects, not even of marriage, but of living respectably if they don't marry, because she doesn't have the temperance not to spend all of the income that is allotted to her. It is the role of the woman in a marriage to take charge of the housekeeping, servants, cooking, furniture, and all expenses relating thereto (plus certain attentions to her tenants and any living in genteel poverty in the area, though presumably this will depend on her income and whether there's a parish church with a parson's wife who's doing some of these things). She's an adult who should be competent to manage these things in a reasoned way without needing to be dictated to.

It is supposed to be the role of the woman in a marriage to take charge of her daughters' education—and yet Mrs. Bennet did not hire a governess, and Elizabeth says that she didn't spend much time teaching her daughters anything (it's not clear to what degree she's educated herself). Granted, the girls did have masters—but, from the sounds of things, that was only if they requested them. No one was required to learn much of anything, which will probably further harm the marriage prospects of the girls who "chose to be idle."

I think the "point" of Mrs. Bennet is that she is one half of one type of bad marriage which the novel illustrates, in contrast with the Gardiners' marriage. These marriages are two possible models for the Bennet daughters to look to. At one point, Elizabeth's prospective marriage is explicitly compared to her parents', with her in the role of her father: Mr. Bennet says "My child, let me not have the grief of seeing you unable to respect your partner in life" (emphasis original).

We might wonder whether Elizabeth saw herself potentially in the role of her father, in a marriage that was very intellectually unequal, when she rejected Mr. Collins; or whether she also saw herself in the role of her mother, married to a man who insults and doesn't respect her, when she rejected Mr. Darcy. Ultimately, she accepts Mr. Darcy after she realises that he is nothing like her father; that he is diligent in attending to his responsibilities, and that he does evidently respect her mind.

This isn't me defending Mr. Bennet, who is also a bad parent and a bad spouse. I do, however, find it a little disturbing when people suggest that Mr. Bennet is at fault for not controlling or curtailing his wife. His wife is a grown woman. Surely we don't actually believe that a situation where a man is legally in complete control over his wife, merely because he is a man and she is a woman, is in any way natural, moral, or just? (This also goes for people who suggest that Mr. Bingley needs to get his sister 'in line' 😬😬😬.)

Mrs. Bennet should be competent to manage her household and her daughters. Given that she's not, yes, Mr. Bennet, according to Georgian and Victorian ideas of the role of a man in a marriage, "should" have stepped in and started dictating to her. But I don't really think that's what Austen is suggesting went wrong here. The models of good marriages we have—the Gardiners, the Bingleys and Darcys after their weddings—are all ones in which the women were basically sensible people to begin with. In the latter two cases, we are told of particular ways in which the men stand to benefit from some mental quality of their future spouse (Elizabeth's good humour and ease in company; Jane's steadiness and determination).

The ideal which some Georgians had of a husband's role being to shape his wife's intellect doesn't seem to be what's being advocated here. If Mr. Bennet made a mistake, it was in marrying a silly, selfish, ill-tempered woman to begin with, not in failing to browbeat her into submission once he found out that she was silly, selfish, and ill-tempered. The idea is that you should choose your spouse carefully. But that message doesn't work if Mrs. Bennet is just a woman in a difficult situation who has her heart in the right place.

#pride and prejudice #mrs. bennet #mr. bennet #pride and prejudice meta #p&p

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sacrednova · 1 day ago

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Drive me home | Simon "Ghost" Riley | 5

fem!reader | In this story, a young woman mistakenly texts Simon "Ghost" Riley, thinking he's her Uber driver after a wild night out. Despite his gruff, reserved nature, Simon shows up. Contains fake screenshots with texts messages and calls!!!! Start reading from the beginning: Part 1 | Part 2 | part 3 | Part 4

Back to that night, (morning to him), Simon barely had time to process the call, dripping water onto the floor as he wrapped a towel around his waist. Her number flashed on the screen, but the voice on the other end wasn’t hers—it was one of her friends, slurring and calling him “Uber.” He was about to hang up, shake off this bizarre interruption to his night, when he heard her laugh in the background. It was a sound he hadn’t realized he missed.

And just like that, the memory flooded back—the way she had looked lying there in her bed, still half-dreaming, the way her hair spread across the pillow like some kind of halo. Her eyes, when they met his, had held something he couldn’t ignore, something that lingered long after he’d driven away that morning.

He closed his eyes, took a slow breath. Why was he even entertaining this? There was no denying it: he was interested, if only a little. But enough to look for her, to chase her? No, not exactly. Still, this was an opportunity, wasn’t it? A coincidence that didn’t require him to make any choices, just… to drive, to be there.

As he finished getting ready, he shot a quick text to Johnny, letting him know he’d be running late to base. Unsurprisingly, Johnny was quick to pick up on it.

Simon huffed at the message. He could practically hear Johnny’s smirk.

And with that, he slipped on a face mask, pulled a black cap low over his eyes, and buttoned up his uniform. He wasn’t about to make a habit of this—but one more night? That he could handle.

As he pulled up to the curb, he could already hear her friends talking—half-laughing, half-teasing. Their voices carried that messy excitement of a night spent a little too deep in the bottle, and he could hear his name on their lips, thrown around in a way that would have made most men’s egos soar. But when he saw her there, cheeks flushed, head ducked as her friends nudged her with conspiratorial glances, it felt… different. Pride crept up on him, sure, but it wasn’t the familiar, shallow kind he usually felt in these situations. She wasn’t just another face in a line of passing encounters, and the idea of seeing her as a one-night fling felt wrong. Somehow, he knew she’d never fit into that category, not for him.

Still, he felt the pull—the impulse to admire her, take in every detail, imagine the things he was barely allowing himself to think about. But more than that, he wanted to hear her talk, to get lost in the way she rambled and blushed, her boldness dipping in and out like a tide. It was maddening and frustrating, but even more, it was addictive.

“Right?” he thought to himself, as if needing the reassurance. I just want to hear her talk. Right?

Then again… maybe that wasn't all. He clenched his jaw, fighting off the surge of thoughts that threatened to pull him down a familiar path.

And when she slipped out of his truck, the look on her face settled like a weight in his chest—a fleeting disappointment, a shadow of hurt. He hadn’t meant it that way; he’d just been honest. He didn’t do well with calls, or texts, or… whatever this was supposed to be. Keeping distance was safer, for both of them. But somehow, seeing that expression made him feel like he’d fumbled it all.

Bloody hell, he thought, dragging a hand over his face. He was trying to keep things simple, keep his boundaries intact, avoid this tangled mess he knew he’d only ruin. But the second those words slipped out—“I like bourbon”—the guard he’d tried so hard to hold was gone.

Why did he say that? Why couldn’t he just let her leave with a clean goodbye? He should have known better. He did know better. But she’d left something unsteady in his mind, a tug he couldn’t shake. He wanted her close, yet something dark and heavy in him kept holding him back, whispering the same, cold refrain: You don’t deserve a good thing.

For a man who thrived on control, this was chaos. And maybe that was what scared him most—how badly he wanted her, despite everything that told him he shouldn’t.

He gripped the wheel tighter, jaw clenched, as if forcing himself to stay grounded could untangle his mind. Get it together, Riley. But her message kept replaying in his head, “It’s a date.”

His pulse jumped every time he thought about it, a strange thrill running under his skin that he couldn’t explain. Adrenaline was familiar—this wasn’t that. It was something sharper, laced with a damn feeling he’d barely let himself acknowledge. Anticipation, maybe. But did she actually mean a date with him? What did she see here, in a man like him, someone who came and went, who’d never had more to offer than a night or two and a silent exit?

He shook his head, almost laughing at himself. You’re thinking too far. But it nagged at him—some reckless part of him considering more than a single night, something deeper. Get a grip. He shouldn’t be thinking about seeing her again, about anything more. Yet somehow, the thought of something real with her felt like a dangerous promise, and he wasn’t sure if he was more afraid of letting her down… or of wanting it for himself.

The days that followed felt like a haze, each one blending into the next as if time itself had twisted around them. She was nearly losing her mind in disbelief, clutching her phone every so often just to make sure she hadn’t imagined their exchange. A date with him, she thought, her heart racing each time she saw that simple, blunt text: “It is.”

On the other end, Simon was in his worst mood all week. He’d been restless, short-tempered, and on edge—a state Soap noticed immediately. Every comment, every offhand remark seemed to hit him wrong, and the last thing he needed was Soap’s relentless needling.

Late Wednesday night, Simon had just returned from a brutal day—one that included nearly getting himself buried alive thanks to a reckless mission. As he tried to settle his mind, Soap’s text popped up.

Simon stared at the word, letting it sink in, and he felt that twinge again. “Ghosted me.”

It hit harder than it should have. He clenched his jaw, then tapped back a quick reply, unable to shake the memory of her voice, almost uncertain but trying to laugh off the sting when she’d said it.

Soap’s response came immediately, and Simon could almost hear his laugh through the screen.

Simon scowled, but the explanation hit home. He didn’t mean to disappear on her. He just… hadn’t known how to continue, how to deal with whatever was stirring up inside him. He was used to being here one day, gone the next—no strings, no complications.

But it was her voice, that small crack in it, that was stuck in his head. And something about the thought of her feeling hurt, thinking he’d just dismissed her, made his chest tighten with a strange guilt.

He shot another reply to Soap.

Simon stared at his phone, that unwanted little spark of irritation pricking at him. Soap had always had a knack for prying at the worst times. But this time, Simon didn’t answer. Instead, he sat there, his thumb hovering over the screen, his thoughts circling back to her words.

The days leading up to Friday felt like a fever dream. She couldn’t focus, her mind looping back to him at the worst times. She was texting Lottie about outfits all week, messaging in frantic bursts:

Lottie’s replies came just as fast:

And then Friday came. The second she opened her eyes, her stomach was tight with nerves. She was sweating through her day, fussing over every tiny detail, trying to push away the flustered feeling every time she thought about him. Why was she this worked up over a guy like him? He wasn’t anything like the men she usually went for, and honestly, he was a mystery—never showed his face, never even gave her the faintest hint that he might be interested. But… maybe, just maybe she’d missed the little signs he had given.

Because that thing about bourbon—was that a sign? And the fact that he actually drove her and her friends home that night?

Maybe, in his all-serious, closed-off way, he was giving her hints. And maybe, she just needed to be a little patient, to take things slow.

She wanted this. Wanted him. And maybe, against all her own warnings, she wanted it to be more than just one night.

By 19:00, she couldn’t take it anymore—she had to text him. Nerves made her fingers fly over her phone as she typed:

Before she could spiral any further, his reply came in, simple and to the point.

She bit her lip, eyes narrowing. Of course, he was that dry.

A pause, then his reply came back just as blunt.

God, he was so direct. So dry. And she couldn’t help it—she loved it.

@sleep101

I am posting this story on AO3 too; CLICK HERE TO SEE IT! (I always post here first)

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #cod modern warfare #ghost fanfiction #cod headcanons #fanfic #ao3 #my writing #ghost cod #fem reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader

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leniisreallycool · 18 hours ago

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Colors

A knock on the doorframe of you open door disturbs you from your concentration. You look up to see Lucifer standing there, a concerned expression twisting his lips in a slight frown.

"Something wrong?" you say, breaking the slience.

He crosses his arms. "Nothing serious, but earlier Beel mentioned that you're colorblind. Why didn't you say anything sooner? We could have made better accommodations."

"What are you talking about? I'm not colorblind." You swivel your chain to face him, thoroughly confused. "Why would Beel say that?"

He frowns deeper. "He's certain that you are. If I remember correctly, he said you couldn't differentiate between red and *****. Apparently you tried to eat an unripe Devilberry, which are red when ripe."

You blink. "Sorry, red and what?"

Lucifer repeats the word, and now you're certain it's not one you know. "The fruit naturally starts out that way, then turns red as they ripen. I believe Satan posted a list of foods that are poisonous to humans on the refrigerator, which you must have seen when taking the berries."

"Yeah, I know the list is there. But the berries were red. I wouldn't have taken them if they weren't. The unripe ones are poison." Is he messing with you?

Lucifer shakes his head. "No, red is a very different color. I suppose Beel must have been correct in his assessment."

"What? No, I've taken tests, I have a good eye for color. I don't know what word you said, but that's not a real color." He has to be messing with you.

Before he can respond, Asmo bursts into the room and throws his arms around you. "Oh you poor darling, missing out this whole time! I didn't realize you couldn't appreciate my true beauty!"

You don't have time to formulate a reply as Mammon and Levi both barrel past Lucifer, who stumbles a bit before regaining his balance. Mammon hugs you tightly from behind over the back of your chair, ignoring the awkward angle he has to lean.

Levi sits on you and pokes your face a little too close to your eyes and you swat his hands off. For once, you pushing him back doesn't seem to bother him. "So that's why you suck at Devilcart - you've been playing severely impaired! Don't worry, Henry, I'll adjust the color settings so you can see better next time."

"Back off, clingy! They just discovered their vision is piss poor, can't you see they're distressed?!"

"You're the only one stressing them out, loudmouth," Belphie says, taking a seat at your knees, leaning his head against them. You hadn't even noticed him entering the room.

Beel stands in the doorway next to Lucifer, looking sufficiently apologetic for unleashing his brothers on you while you were trying to study. "I told Satan too, but he went to the royal library to figure out what colors humans are supposed to see. He said humans usually see ***** as red and wanted to double check."

"Well, I still have no idea what word you guys keep saying, but it's not one I know. And yeah, as far as I could tell, those Devilberries were red."

Immediately, all six of them gave you identical pitying looks. This is ridiculous. Three of the four cuddling you immediately chatter over each other, all competing for who was being most empathetic to your newfound inability.

"So this whole time, every time you've been poisoned in potions class, or wherever else due to a misunderstanding of ingredients, it's because humans can't see that part of the light spectrum. Their brains just interpret it as the most convenient color rather than actually processing it as it is," Satan explains, stepping around Beel, nose buried in a leather-bound tome that looked at least four centuries old.

"That was fast. Beel said you just left," you say, deciding to be unbothered by the situation.

Satan nods. "I already knew where the book was; I just had to grab it and come back."

"Wait wait wait - are you saying no human can properly appreciate my beauty? Not even Solomon?" Asmo detangles his arm from you long enough to 'faint'.

"Can you quit yappin' about yourself when MC is having a crisis over here?! They clearly don't need the extra hassle!"

"You're the loud one, Stupidmammon! STFU and back off!"

"Oh, you know, I forgot that other things can see colors humans can't, and vice versa. I guess demons can see a larger portion of the light spectrum?" you reply, completely ignoring the drama trio. "Humans can see from red to purple, nothing further on either side. I think there are colors we recognize as being real when that's not what they should look like, like yellow, but I can't remember more than that."

"I don't know what you mean by that, but this book does mention that humans can see a very limited range of colors. Even shrimps can see more than humans, which is odd, given how inferior the species is," Satan explains.

You've been living in the Devildom for a while now. You're used to the batshit insane shenanigans they get themselves into daily. But for some reason, Satan, one of the most powerful demons in existence, one of the great tempters of mankind and one of the few demons most humans believe in, saying 'shrimps' set you off giggling like a maniac.

"We're not doing this again-" "Oh HELL no, it was terrifying and creepy enough last time-" "Predictable weird humanness-" "They were fine last time-" "Is laughing just how humans cope with stress?"

With a heavy sigh, Lucifer strides over and easily hefts you out of your chair and away from the four leeches like a parent lifts their toddler from a highchair. He sets you down a little distance away from them, giving you space to collect yourself.

The brother disperse not long after that, the novelty of your apparent colorblindness already wearing off.

The next day, however, Asmo drags you with him to the mall, saying he needed your help with an experiment. And that's how Asmo discovered that humans can't see ultraviolet and that most of his favorite colors either look like a basic blue or purple, and that you genuinely think ***** looks good on him (it does just like everything else, but it's so not his color, hun).

#ayyy look at me a reference to my other oneshot #obey me #obey me shall we date #om #om shall we date #om swd #omswd #obey me swd #obey me imagines #obey me oneshot

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theemeraldwings · 2 hours ago

Text

Reblogging because my response has become too long to put in the replies:

I don't think many people view the traitor primarchs as irredeemable, and I think the number among people who are well-versed in Horus Heresy lore is even smaller. They are, from the beginning, tragic characters. They certainly have their damning characteristics (namely hypocrisy), but they aren't really presented as irredeemable--we even have explicit statements regarding redemption for two of them (Big E says Mortarion can be redeemed in Godblight, and he outright forgives Horus in The End and the Death Vol III). I don't entirely agree with your interpretations, however. I don't think any of them are irredeemable (at least, not due to their own actions), but I think they miss some key details.

For all Angron claimed to be standing against oppression, he spent over a century expanding the Emperor's (extremely oppressive) regime. There's no moral purity shit here, either--Angron is pretty open about how he hates serving the Emperor even as he reduces worlds to ash in his name. What you said about Mortarion also applies to Angron, because of the Butcher's Nails. He was denied the chance to die with his family on Nuceria, and for the remainder of his life before daemonhood, the one thing he wants to do is die. And then Lorgar takes that away from him.

Mortarion's fall is because, first and foremost, he cared about his sons. Typhus brought the legion to Nurgle's garden, and infected them with the Destroyer Plague. Mortarion fell to Nurgle because he wanted to end their pain. Mortion is also a hypocrite. Like Angron, for all his claims of hating tyranny, he still expanded a tyrant's domain for a century and a half. (Corvus Corax is also on this list, but this is about traitor primarchs, not loyalist)

Magnus' guilt is very hotly debated among the community, and both sides have a point. On the one hand, he did the best thing he could with the information he had available. On the other hand, he was incredibly cocky, and did not have a concept of restraint. He believed he was in control, and he was too confident in that belief. (Side note: I despise the troupe of super powers being a stand-in for being queer (or any minority of any kind, for that matter)).

Fulgrim never said "fuck it, I'll have fun". His fall to Slaanesh was driven by his belief that, after killing Ferrus Manus, he was irredeemable. He's an addict; he isn't trying to have fun, he's trying to forget reality.

Everybody agrees that Big E mishandled Lorgar, and that's the most favorable interpretation for him. His argument on why he isn't a god is literal abuser language ("If I was a god, I'd use my psychic powers to force you all to kneel before me, like this" before using his psychic powers to force all of the Word Bearers to kneel before him). And all this ignores the shit Kor Phaeron did to him.

Horus is the spoiled rich white boy of the primarchs. He didn't fall because he was lost because dad was doing everything for him beforehand, he fell because he saw a vision of the future where he wasn't given the credit he thought he deserved. And then, like anybody else who grew up being told the world would be at their feet, he lost it. There's other issues as well, such as taxes (Terra wanted to impose heavy tithes on newly conquered worlds, which Horus opposed because it would cause them to rebel), but "gee, maybe I'm not ready" was never an issue.

Alpharius and Omegon believed that they knew the Emperor's plans better than he did, and threw in their lot with the traitors because they thought that if the traitors won, it would mean the end for Chaos.

Perturabo is someone who chose to suffer in silence and hope things would magically change. He never complains, and then is shocked when things don't go his way. I'm fairly sure he's also the primarch that people find the most relatable.

Konrad Curze was certainly mentally ill, and he was certainly denied the help and support that he needed, but I don't think he was abused because of it. He's also the kind of person who thought that if you publicly lynched enough jaywalkers, crime would go down, and that the Emperor sending an assassin to kill him because he committed treason and genocide was vindication for his belief that any crime warrants being skinned alive as a punishment.

They may not be irredeemable, but their hands are fare from clean.

I love how much of warhammer 40k is clearly a bunch of white dudes sitting around, thinking up the worst shit imaginable and going "thank god that could never happen to me, the cishet white guy"

angron is a one for one depiction of slavery, yet is painted as the bad guy for wanting to stand against oppression

mortarion is disabled and constantly has his decisions taken away from him by able bodied people only to be seen as moody and uncooperative

magnus is gay or trans or both. literally a guy blamed for something he was born with that he cannot control and told you're bad if you explore this part of yourself. also you're illegal now

fulgrim was actively encouraged to pursue perfection, despite never being good enough for others. he pushed any personal pleasure aside for an uncaring crusade and then is demonized for saying "fuck it, I'll have fun"

lorgar. also known as "this is why you don't abuse your kids"

horus is the golden child who's sent out into the world by himself only to find out Gee, Maybe I'm Not Ready because good ol dad did everything for him then told him "figure it out lol"

alpharius omegon are the autistic kids who don't understand why pops is doing this, maybe we should do things a little different than "blood soaked crusade"

perturabo is the burnout middle kid who did everything to impress his father only to be told "that's what's expected of you" who then got mad since acting out was the only way he got attention

konrad curze has a mental disorder. and is abused because of it

all of these characters were so close to being some of the best representation for minorities we could get in media only for gw to eat shit right at the finish line because they can't commit to an actual story. and it's amazing just how little these writers understand that the things they depict are all real things that people suffer through every day, and are demonized for every single day, especially when we are told these characters are irredeemable and should be destroyed, no questions asked

#warhammer 40000 #warhammer 30k #primarch #angron #mortarion #magnus the red #fulgrim #lorgar aurelian #horus lupercal #alpharius #alpharius omegon #perturabo #konrad curze

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ssa-neeks-prentiss · 3 days ago

Note

hello hello hello !!

a teeny tiny request for you (hopefully it's not much to deal with): reader seeing Spencer interact with the kids who come knocking for treats, he does a small little trick for them too

reader with the team goes to catch an unsub hiding in an abandoned lab or hospital (maybe x aaron?)

honestly idk what I'm yapping about but here are some mediocre thoughts from my side

‹3

AN: Sorry for not being able to do the top ask, I started getting motivation a little too late- I also need a name for this series so tell me if you have any ideas :3

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Word Count : 1k

You stepped forward with your gun out. The team spread around you. You looked up at the large abandoned building in front of you. You let out an exasperated sigh as you finally noticed why the building was so large.

"An abandoned hospital. This sounds like it's straight out of a horror movie."

You muttered to no one in particular but they all heard and responded non verbally with grimaces. Frowning, you opened the door but winced as it opened with a loud creak.

"There goes our sneak attack."

Emily said to the team. You nodded in response. You agreed and you jogged forward, not caring about not making a sound anymore. The unsub had been alerted of your presence the moment you had opened that door.

Once all of the team was in the building, the door creaked shut, it was unsettling once it shut completely. As it was now dark and completely silent.

You crept through the hospital. You saw many things, but the thing that irked you the most was the fact the walls were void of graffiti. It was an obvious sign of something ahead. Especially since the place was obvious and not far from the main city.

The team split up and you were set with Aaron. The adrenaline rushing through your veins became more and more intense with each room you walked into. You came across many things, security cameras in tact and functioning, fully set up operating rooms, expensive equipment was still there.

"Something isn't right."

You muttered until you heard a bang and a loud scream. Both you and Aaron snapped up and ran to the sound of the scream. Panic made you run faster than you had before. Quicker than you thought was your limit.

You skidded to a halt as you rounded a corner but not before Aaron smashed into you due to your abrupt halt. You grabbed Aaron's hand and twisted sideways to avoid the knife that was being held out using some sort of contraption. You let out a quiet sigh of relief as you saw the rest of the team come from the other way. None of them would get hit by the knife. You sat up from where you were on the ground. Helping Aaron up, you dusted yourself off.

"This place is full of traps."

You muttered bitterly and Aaron gave you an apologetic look and you gave him a small smile in return. You trudged to the others.

"What did you find?"

Aaron asked them. Emily and JJ gave each other a look.

"We found a morgue."

You looked at them with a perplexed look, that was normal for a hospital like this. That was until JJ added onto Emily's statement.

"It was full of the missing people."

You paused. Oh. So this was where the unsub dumped the bodies. You turned to Rossi and Derek.

"Did you find anything?"

You asked the other two.

"We found.. Uh.. Organs."

Derek said with a tone of disgust. Your head snapped up in surprise.

"Where? Take me."

You asked and he nodded. The team followed behind you two.

Once you got there, you scanned the organs that were in the room.

"These are all the things that were 'wrong' with each person. The heart for heart problems. Lungs for asthma. The spine for back problems."

You listed off a few things. Until Aaron clicked it together.

"He was trying to fix them. Make them better. Take away what was bad and let them leave in perfect condition."

You nodded in agreement.

"Exactly."

You spun around at the unrecognizable voice. Your gun raised along with everyone elses. He held his hands up.

"I can go. I've saved all the people I need to."

At that Aaron nodded and Derek surged forward to snap handcuffs on the guy. They decided to go the way the guy came but before Derek could step forward with the guy you held a hand out and stopped them. You told everyone to go the other way and they did with only Aaron as an exception.

"Why did you tell them to go the other way."

Instead of answering properly you spoke instead.

"When I shout run. You run."

You waited for his nod and you grabbed something and threw it forward and the motion set something off as the place started to tick loudly.

"Run!"

You shouted as the two of you dashed out and got out of the hospital just in time to see the section of the building they were just in blow up. The two of you were slightly breathless from the running as the rest jogged to you both and bombarded you with questions.

"How did you know?"

You shrugged nonchalantly.

"He smirked and I noticed the motion sensors."

AARON'S POV

Aaron smiled slightly as the nonchalance reminded him of your daughter, Eleanor, he could tell that she got it from you. The smile was quickly wiped from his face as Rossi walked up to him with a knowing smirk.

Though you didnt notice that as you walked back to one of the vehicles, speaking with Emily.

He noticed a light red blushing on your cheeks as Emily teased you about something. You groaned as Emily laughed. Aaron didn't take notice of what Rossi was saying as he followed you.

He climbed into the drivers seat as you called shotgun and scrambled into the passenger seat. He smiled softly as you grinned and stuck your tongue out at Emily. You were a mix. You could be serious in times of need but also childish and light hearted. He admired that in you.

Emily grumbled and took the seat behind you and he held back a laugh as you gasped dramatically when Emily jokingly kicked your seat. You whipped around to glare at her but the smile that graced your face told him that you didn't mean it.

He turned the key as you begrudgingly turned around but not before giving Emily the middle finger.

Aaron enjoyed watching you interact with the team, he didn't know why but he did. It was nice. He enjoyed being with you overall but he didn't know why he felt a fluttering feeling with you. It confused him to no end but he didn't mind being confused if he got to spend time with you.

That was one of his favourite things to do and he could do it for hours.

#criminal minds #bau x reader #criminal minds x reader #fanfic #criminal minds x y/n #bau!reader #x reader #aaron hotchner x reader

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ashkabbom · 12 hours ago

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Storm - Mouthwashing

A/n: It's 1am, but nothing will stop me muahahahah! Give my writing a chance and correct me if anything, English is not my first language and I had a LOT of help from the translator 🫶🏽

•Pre-Crash!Captain Curly x Reader

synopsis/summary: You and Captain Curly talk a little during the night

Notes: I didn't specify the gender and I didn't talk about the relationship, it's up to you to see how you interpret it.

Drops of rain hit your window hard, thunder and lightning tormented you and took away your peace.

It was night and you were in the ship's kitchen, you couldn't sleep for some reason, but the silence and the moonlight projected on the huge screen were comforting.

Thinking of anything to occupy your mind, from how long a squirrel lives to worries about your current job, although you tried to push some of those worries out of your mind.

Somehow you got a job, only you didn't expect it to be here and like this, but it's good that you don't do much, it's good that no one got hurt and you need to take care of.

Due to sheer pressure, you ended up entering some area of medicine, although it wasn't exactly what your parents wanted, it's still something, but you would be anywhere else if you could choose for yourself.

You didn't want your parents to look at you like you had failed and disappointed them, it was horrible to feel like you were a failure, something they weren't proud of.

Do you sometimes wonder if a hospital would even accept you, would you want that? Maybe you would even do well? It's not what you want but-

"Awake at this hour?" A voice echoes lightly and a tired-looking captain is leaning against the door. You didn't even hear the door slam, you were so immersed in thought.

Captain Curly was one of the most easygoing guys you'll ever meet working at the Pony Express, and that's not to be rude, but there are very few people at that company who are easygoing with other people.

"Night snack break." You say with a shy smile, not expecting anyone to be awake at this hour either. "But someone emptied all the coffee."

He chuckles lightly before sighing, "I can't imagine who would be responsible behind such a crime." Curly rolls his eyes with a smirk on his face, then looks at you. "But something tells me that late night snack isn't what got you so focused that you didn't hear the door."

"Hmmm a captain really knows his crew apparently" You laugh a little and nod. "I was just thinking a little bit about... Everything, you know? There's a few more months to go, I think about 7 months or something and it's just as weird as it was in the beginning"

Curly listened carefully to what you said, as a captain he understood exactly what you meant.

Being in the middle of space for so long, with a group of people you're not used to, is quite something, especially for someone unfamiliar with being so far away from where they used to be.

Even he wasn't sure if this was what he wanted for himself, if this was the pinnacle of his life or if he should try something more and go beyond his comfort zone.

"So you feel like the things around you are devouring you little by little, you sink so deep into it that it's hard for you to get out. It's not bad, but you feel like it's not good." He tries to complete what was on your mind.

"You gave yourself away that you are or have been in the same boat captain" You look at him with a cheeky smile and start walking towards the couch. "or on different boats, but with the same destination"

Curly follows you right behind and also sits on the couch. You both stay in silence for a while, just looking at the moon.

"It's not the same as looking at the sky at night, but it's better than nothing I guess." You say without thinking much. It would be a lie if you said you don't miss being on earth, in your home and in the comfort of your room in your house.

"I think this when I look at the stars, it's even different when I remember that I'm in space with them, being able to see several everywhere.. Without light pollution" He says and another silence falls.

It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, quite the opposite, it was the most peaceful silence you'd had in nights. Just you, the captain and the stars, enjoying the company that each one could offer.

You look at the captain, wondering if there was anything he regretted doing in his life that brought him here.

It was no surprise that he knew what was bothering you in your thoughts, after all he is a grown man with experience in life, everyone goes through this questioning one day.

Uncertainty is what moves us sometimes.

You wonder if Jimmy is like that too, if there is anything he would do differently to be somewhere else or if he wouldn't change anything even though he might regret something...

He didn't seem much for talking about that sort of thing. Jimmy was always a mystery in his mind.

Him and Swansea. You knew very little about the two of them, but it's not like you knew much about the others anyway.

You knew that Jimmy and the captain were friends so he must not be as bitter as he seems, after all he wouldn't be where he is if he wasn't someone he could trust.

"So this is what they mean by staring into your soul" He laughs as he says this and you come out of your trance. You hadn't noticed that you weren't just looking at him out of the corner of your eye, but that you had turned your face to look at him.

You laugh at his comment. "Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude on the entrance to a man's soul." Sighing lightly you smile "Daisuke showed me a drawing of him yesterday, the boy is talented and expresses well how he sees places and people"

"Is that what you two were doing in the infirmary during lunch?" He asks curiously. "But I didn't realize you liked rock and metal, but the metalhead you drew looks nice."

"It's not a metalhead, it's Anya." You look at him like it's the most obvious thing and he's so dumb.

"Was that supposed to be Anya?!" Curly asked in disbelief.

You and he talked for a few more minutes, even though it was so late at night, maybe it would be morning in a few hours, but clearing your head at least a little was the best thing.

You yawned and realized that you were actually sleepy now. Curly yawns soon after and you both laugh lightly, agreeing that you would go to sleep now, wishing each other goodnight.

So the raindrops hit the window weaker, until they stopped completely, without thunder or lightning.

The next day you wake up dead tired, woken up by Daisuke questioning if you were still alive.

Soon you go to the kitchen together, talking a little about what you had dreamed about during the night. Anya was already there and so you and Daisuke join her, soon Jimmy and captain, arrives and-

"Whose metalhead drawing is this? It was lying on the floor" Swansea asks with the paper in his hand

"Not a metalhead!" You hear Daisuke chuckle and you swear you heard a chuckle coming from Curly.

A/n: I had another creative peak this morning and here it is, straight from the oven. I wish I had written something with Curly before writing something with Daisuke.🫶🏽🎀

#mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #tw jimmy #jambalaya #captain curly #anya #daisuke #swansea #we all hate jimmy #captain curly x reader #curly x reader #mouthwashing x reader

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solar4seekstron · 3 days ago

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Hi um so I usually don't see these but I was thinking a Mirage and Cybortron! Reader but the scene where Mirage brings Noah to the place where they're supposed to meet up with the other autobots but reader gets to Mirgae first before the others and of course is happy to see him cause they're conjux but gets mad when he sees he brought Noah so of course they have a little spat on what they should do with him before the others arrive than of course the other autobots come in

This is so cute I’ll definitely give it a try

Transformers Knightverse!Mirage x Cybertronian!GN!Reader Oneshot: A Human

Part 1

Part 2

TW/Tags: Mostly just fluff, reader and Mirage argue for a bit, Noah feels like a child and he hates it, Reader has a soft spot for Mirage and he abuses it >:3, cutesy couple moments, OP gives you that “really?” Look at some point. This was so fun to write for Mirage I adore the little gremlin.

You and Mirage have known each other for a pretty good while. Even before the war. You’re a couple feet shorter then Optimus . And even during the time he admitted his feelings towards you. Apparently he’s into bots taller than him.

When you all got to the planet earth, you all had to hide. Causing you and Mirage to separate. Until one day when you got a message from Optimus Prime to meet up you knew this meant for you all to see each other. This including seeing your Conjunx. Mirage. As you drove to the spot you got there after he did.

”Oh here comes my boo. What a master at work with their boo.” Mirage said to the human Noah as Noah held a pipe as defense. He watched as he saw you transform. He was amazed as mirage only smiled like the silly bot he is.

You were pretty well built. With The right amount of slim and well build frame as you has sword in handles on both sides of your hips. Your optics were yellow then blue and you noticed the human once you came in. Your voice was soft but strong. having a softer tone then what most expect.

“Mirage what have you done? You brought a human here? What if Optimus sees him?”

You walked up to Mirage as he also made his way to you. “Mm! Boy did I miss that voice baby. Just like I miss them lips.” He avoided the question as his cervos grabbed one of yours and one of your cervos as he tries to pull you down by your chest plate. But you don’t indulge. Your other cervo moving to his helm.

You placed a digit on his dermas as you spoke.”I’ll deal with you later.”

You’d walk past him as he stuttered. “You know I would be more scared if I wasn’t so turned on right now!” He tries to get around you as you made your way to the human.

”Now now baby listen I can explain. Things just happened and well- he kinda got stuck with me during a police chase and uh-“

”Police?!” You looked at him as you both stood in front of Noah. Mirage looking up at you as he moved his arms around explaining himself. Noah just stared up at you two. Feeling like a kid as he watched his parents argue over something he did. Noah even calmed his guard down a bit as it still seemed your argument will keep going. As he then tried to slowly escape. “Mirage you should’ve known better.”

”Hey baby. Baby. I promise this will be great. Not all humans are bad and I can prove it with him.” He gestured to Noah. Who stopped once Bee and the others came. Including Optimus.

When Optimus spoke about Noah when he picked hm up. And Mirage tried to stand up for himself. Optimus, one of your closest friends looked at you for a second opinion. He always trusted your opinion despite when you became Mirages Conjunx during the war. You felt the pang in your spark bond with Mirage. You noticed he looked at you with puppy blue eyes……darn it. You let out a sigh and told Optimus that there’s nothing else they can do. They’re stuck with this human. But maybe he can help us if we let him live.

Mirage stared at you with joy. Optimus groaned but agreed. Noah even looked at you surprised that you protected him. Even when you glanced at him for a moment to be sure he’s alright. He looked down in an almost shy way. The Mirage and Noah speak about him joining them.

Then Mirage spoke about Noah selling him which made you send an annoyance through the bond causing him to groan a bit. Cause bee and Arcee to chuckle as he seemed almost in pain but kept speaking to Noah.

”What about the big guy.” Noah asked

”You let me worry about him.” Mirage responded and then Noah looked at you.

”And your whole situation with your…?.” Noah kinda whispered to Mirage. Mirage doing the same thing.

”You let me handle them too. Don’t worry they’ll warm up to you before ya know it.”

”Cool?” Noah took a moment but then nodded. Mirage got excited now that Noah was a part of the team.

As the other speak of what to do and speak of leaving. The others go their separate ways to rest after all they all had a long drive. During that time Mirage told Noah to just stay close to Bee. Bee not paying much mind as Noah just stood there. Contemplating his life.

Mirage walked up to you as you leaned against the wall. Checking out your swords as you glanced at him as he got closer. You stood straighter as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His chin against your chest. All you can see is his big blue eyes. “Thank you for helping me babe. You really love meee.”

“Oh course I do.” You put your sword away as you placed a cervo on the back of his helm. “I just hope you know what you’re doing Mirage. I cant always save you, ya know.” Your other cervo now on his shoulder. His optics now looked sad as he pulled back a bit.

”I know… But I’ll prove it to you and OP! I just got a feeling. Relax babe. I know what I’m doing. Remember?” You sighed as he spoke.

He looked up at you with big blue eyes as he had his usual grin on his face. Man you were so weak to that smile. And just him your usual gentle smile and leaned down. Both of your dermas connecting as you both close your optics. After all..

You can never say no to that face.

I honestly really enjoyed writing this. I kinda want to do the rest of the movie with these two but you guys let me know if you want more. As always I hope you all enjoy and as always Requests are open.

#transformers rise of the beasts #tf rotb #tf mirage #tf Rotb mirage #tf mirage x reader #x reader #transformers #transformers x reader

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piece-of-pierce · 2 days ago

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Gotham’s Ghosts are an open secret. Outside the city, people think it’s a metaphor referring to how old the city is and the near-endless history carved into every corner.

Gothamites know better though. Some call it a joke, most refuse to say it out loud, but all respect Gotham and her Ghosts. She is a city that cares for and protects her own. Those who are hers never truly leave and those who are not can feel her desire that they do.

Out-of-town-ers tend to trip more, feel paranoid, always catch the red light and rain, and plenty other little things in Gotham that show they are unwanted by the city. The not a joke is that these are acts of her Ghosts, those who once walked her streets now working together to carry out her more subtle desires. The Bats and Birds are believed by some to be more powerful Ghosts, her elites, permitted to carry out more tangible tasks.

Truth is, the only thing Gothamites have wrong is the Bats and Birds. They’re helped by the ghosts who make bullets stray just right and keep their footsteps quieter than is possible. They have Gotham’s blessing and her Ghosts’ assistance, for they are hers and protectors of her others, but they do not yet hear her decrees.

So, when one Bird leaves Gotham, she frets and her Ghosts grow restless. When the news comes that only his corpse will return, they grieve with their knights, both hoping and fearing that their lost bird will join them.

Instead, he wakes up, he wanders, he leaves again (and oh Gotham, how she weeps to see him go, knowing how it had gone before, raining tears down on her people and sending her ghosts to make all feel the dread, if only that one might notice the danger of her missing bird, the danger of tragedy striking a second time.) Then! Then he returns. He returns strong and angry with a ghost of his own festering within but he is home and Gotham beams and her Ghosts all swarm to see him safe.

They aid him in his efforts to rid her of the Mad Clown, then show the Bat their displeasure when he harms Her Bird to stop those attempts. The Dark Knight hears his footsteps and feels his weight heavier than before, adapting as much as he can but only finding relief when he finally abandons his anger at Her Bird. Her ghosts gather around him in the night once more, but they decide amongst themselves that they will leave again if need be and far more choose to remain with the Returned Bird, rather than the Dark Knight.

Between their assistance to Gotham's favored and little tricks along the street, the City's Ghosts have a place to which they retreat. A place to refresh themselves and gather their strength before returning to the larger city. They have a bar where they go, formed by Gotham herself, her own Afterlife for her own Ghosts so that they need never leave her. It is a passable imitation of what they lost when they chose to stay and serve their City.

Gotham's Afterlife is too closely connected to the living Gotham, though, and garners attention from some of the living. Gotham is too deeply entwined with her people and struggles to keep this place of pride a secret from them, so calls to the Realms with a request of a gatekeeper. The Realms respond and send her their favored, a ghost who lives and is experienced in guarding the space between Ghosts and the Living. He becomes Gotham's only living Ghost, a caretaker of her Afterlife, and a friend to the other Ghosts. He even brings a few more who have worked alongside him before (an entertainer and her lover, who happily takes a position as the guard, a young couple who love to travel and take on the job of leading the bats and birds where they need to go, a cook who ensures the Ghosts all replenish themselves properly and regularly, and a worker who keeps additional watch over the warehouse district that desperately needs it. There are even more who flit in and out and Gotham and her Ghosts take to them all quite quickly.)

It is with time that this Gatekeeper and his friends become Gothamites in their own rights. It is also with time that Gotham's Ghosts share that the spirit in her Returned Bird's chest is slowly weakening with time, speeding up slightly when around other ghosts. It is with pride that Gotham learns her own Ghosts can rid him of this foreign influence.

Of course, the only reasonable course of action is to lead the Returned Bird to her Afterlife. Perhaps time with more Ghosts will speed up the process. Gotham has the Ghosts with her Returned Bird start leading him toward her Afterlife, night after night until he finally finds it. He doesn't go in, but he returns to study it, night after night. Then, finally, with enough prompting by the Ghosts, he approaches. He steps through the door, willingly entering himself into their world, allowing Gotham's Ghosts to finally reveal themselves to him.

And oh, what a reveal it is, to welcome the Returned Bird home at last. For even as he stands wary, Gotham beams with pride, her Ghosts all looking to the figure in the doorway, only some with recognition but all with respect for the Living soul who has earned Gotham's pride and the right to see their Afterlife, let alone walk in.

-=o0o=-

From the moment he steps over the threshold, Jason knows he's been drugged. He feels strangely calm, despite the unexplainable knowledge that he is being watched by everyone in the bar, a strangely full bar for a place nobody has gone in or out of, and the pits have quieted in a way he has never known since coming back to life. They're not gone, but for once he's only hearing overlapping whispers instead of the usual constant screaming in his skull.

All these strange people, clearly locals in how they carry themselves, make him feel like this is a sort of homecoming. Unwilling to draw too much attention or behave too strangely, he quickly moves on from the doorway and makes his way to the bar against the wall, settling onto a stool.

"Welcome to the Afterlife, how may I-woah! ...okay, hi, new guy... I'll be with you in a moment." The bartender, one of the few people in the bar who didn't look like he was going to a 'decades in history' themed party, had stark white hair, pale skin, and bright green eyes. They were glowing slightly, too, and his lips had a concerning green tint to them.

"Take your time," Jason said, leaning against the bar with a nod that the bartender returned before darting through a door that seemed to lead into a kitchen. While he was gone, Jason took the chance to take another look around. The people here were varied, some looking like they'd just walked in off the street but most looking like they were stuck in time and had been for a century or more.

Jason hadn't seen anyone going in or out. They mostly looked like they'd been showing up and staying for a hundred years at least. Jason had tried reading Percy Jackson as a kid, and while it didn't hold his interest for long, he remembered some parts well enough not to like how this was looking.

"Here. Might not be what you were planning to order, but dude, you need it. I don't know what you've been up to but it left something rancid in your system." The bartender was back, skin flushed green and a crooked grin on his lips, doing nothing to hide the concern in his eyes. "I'm Phantom, by the way. Sorry about the wait."

"Call me Jason."

"Nice to meet you, Jason. You're gonna want to chug that, by the way. It's kinda gross, but what medicine tastes good?" Medicine? "Just trust me, it'll flush out all that grossness in your system. It'll make Gotham happy." The bartender, Danny, returned to tending the bar as if nothing was strange.

Jason had to get out of here. Fast.

DPxDC Afterlife, But It's A Bar

[discontinued, feel free to add on]

It was weird. Not wrong, alarming or dangerous type of weird. Not good or comforting either.

Just plain weird.

It all started a few days ago, on Wednesday, to be exact. On a rare occasion, Jason was patrolling outside of his territory ("cover for me, I have a date" my ass, Replacement), and he spotted something out of place. A neon green, almost toxic colored sign that read "Afterlife".

Honestly, who names a place like that? But judging by the placement and design, it was a bar, and Jason could almost appreciate the irony. Maybe it had a slogan along the lines of "our drinks will send you beyond the lines of life and death" or something. But at the same time, it could be interpreted as "alcohol can and will be the death of you," which, technically, is not the best PR campaign for a bar.

Jason decided to visit the place anyway. He was curious about the implied death joke, sue him.

Of course, he didn't visit immediately. He was still on patrol, and he just heard the sound of gunshots to the west. Not to say that the place was quiet.

(Oddly quiet for a bar in Gotham, now that he thinks about it)

Anyway, the next day, he went there not as Red Hood but as Jason Todd, an ordinary civilian who decided to grab a beer in the evening. Only to not find the place.

He couldn't have just miss it - he remembered the street, he knew the building, he was absolutely fucking sure where the "Afterlife" should have been. He searched the whole block nonetheless, and then proceeded to check the whole area, but to no avail.

Damn, it seems like he can't get to the afterlife both literally and- the other literally. Yeah, he might be having too much fun with the oddly chosen name for the nonexistent bar.

It didn't exist on the maps and internet either. At this point, Jason was contemplating the idea of it being a hallucination or a dream. He even checked the recording on his helmet from Wednesday night, but the whole time he was in the area, the video was filled with interference and static.

Weird. Slightly suspicious, but Red Robin, who's been patrolling the same area for weeks before him, never reported any interferences, so it probably had something to do with his helmet and not the area in general.

On Thursday night, he purposefully went there right after patrol. And the nonexistent bar suddenly existed again! The same neon green sign, the same quiet street around it.

Seriously, what is this mysterious fuckery?

Now, if he was a Bat, he would have reported this to others and investigated, lurked around in shadows, and approached with caution. If he was a Robin, he would have still reported and then straight up marched in there and saw how it goes.

Alas, he was Red Hood, so he decided to watch for the bar guests and see just who the hell goes in and out of the place.

And there was the next weird thing.

No one was going in or out. Jason sat there for a whole hour, and not even one person entered or left the building. Despite the muffled sounds of music, voices and laughter coming from the place.

The final kicker was the fact that after some careful questioning and dropping hints, Jason found out that no one except him ever saw the "Afterlife"'s sign. No one's even heard of it, both the Batclan and the Gothamites.

The fuck?

So he did the next logical thing. He brought the smartest member of the Bats with him. Tim owed him anyway. Might as well use it now instead of later.

Friday night proved two things: one, Tim was still his favorite to work with out of all the bats and birds, not questioning anything as to why Jason is asking him to check out a bar, and two, Jason just might be going insane.

Tim couldn't see the "Afterlife" even when Jason pointed at the sign from not further than ten feet. The irony of the stipid name was not even amusing anymore.

Tim didn't ask any questions after this experiment, and Jason didn't want to admit that he is losing the grip of reality, so they ended up simply parting their ways after. Can the Pits cause brain damage? More damage than there was in the first place, that is.

Now that he thinks about it, the color of the sign is really similar to the Lazarus waters. He should have noticed it sooner, but in his defense, who would look at the bubbling pool of toxic waters and think, "Oh, that would make a dope neon sign"? Apparently, the owner of the "Afterlife".

The color might be just a coincidence.

...no, in the world he lives in, coincidences like this just don't happen. Besides, Jason doesn't believe in shit like fate or destiny.

So, here he is, on Saturday night, standing in front of the door to the Afterlife. It would have been funny if it wasn't so weird. What's even more weird is that the closer he gets to the door, the less nervous he feels, like the place is radiating some calming aura. Wait, no, scratch that, Jason is so not calling it a calming aura for God's sake. That sounds just like those homemade witches with their crystals, tarot readings, and whatnot.

He's going to call it... tranquilizer vibes. Yeah, that's better.

He takes a deep breath, getting ready to see whatever it is on the other side, pushes the door open, and walks into the bar.

...

Whatever he's been expecting to see, it's not this.

#batman #dpxdc #fanfiction #danny phantom #dp x dc #writing #creative writing #dc x dp #dcxdp #bartender danny #jason todd #gotham city #Gotham is Alive #Gotham's Ghosts #dead on main #dc x dp prompt #if anyone wants to write this feel free

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identityflawed · 3 days ago

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to every single arcane fan on the planet who is pissed at caitlyn for her actions in s2 act 1, please listen to me:

you are right to be pissed, that’s kind of the point, but hating her means you have to hate… like every other character. grief is a powerful factor in almost all of arcane and the motives of every character are based in something they’ve lost: whether it’s family, ideals, reputation, land, etc, they’re all dealing with loss and that causes them to act in morally-challenging ways. because that’s what grief does. a loss unthinkable causes actions unthinkable.

caitlyn joins the grief club a bit later than your other main characters, jinx and vi. but unlike jinx and vi, we actually see cait’s actions fresh off the block. the time cuts in act 1 only showed the clean-cut effects of losing their parents on the bridge, and then the new jinx and vi that occurred after the five (?) year time-skip after the explosion in the warehouse. you don’t see them when they’re full of raw grief and terror and illogical actions. you don’t see how severely vi was beaten in prison, how she must’ve lashed out in response to being taken away from her sister, how she continuously made the situation worse for herself because she felt like she deserved it, that she should’ve fought harder, been a better leader and a better sister. we don’t see jinx’s mental breakdowns afterwards, we don’t see how silco grooms her, how he uses her for his literal and emotional goals, how she’s shattered and how she pushes people away because of her own mistakes… but we’re seeing it with caitlyn, we’re seeing the rawness that comes with all of it, and we’re seeing how that impacts the narrative and other characters. people who haven’t grieved don’t seem to understand that it is like containing a storm, and you cannot do it by yourself, all of the time, and sometimes it gets out to other people if they press hard enough.

arcane is very cyclical in the way that all characters follow the same path, over and over again. caitlyn and jinx are following narrative paths, especially when you compare ambessa to silco. i do wonder if jinx knows that silco stabbed vander, that he was the one who ruined everything, hired the goons to jump them and scared her into dropping their haul from jayce’s workshop, etc. i wonder if the reason she continues to spiral is because she doesn’t know, and if caitlyn will get the same treatment with ambessa’s betrayals and her hand in the attack on the memorial.

whatever the case, you cannot defend jinx and hate caitlyn. they are not the same, i understand, but they are both products of massive grief that they blame themselves heavily for.

back to the idea of grief being a storm, because the most common gripe i see with caitlyn is how she promised vi she wouldn’t change, and then changed within a day. this isn’t… this is not an unreasonable course of action from caitlyn, given the situation and how she’s feeling. she is like… at most, a couple weeks out after her mother’s death. it is still an incredibly fresh wound, and she is sort of hinging her entire self-worth and identity on her ability to make the shot that resolves this feeling inside of her. she doesn’t get to make that shot, and fresh off of that miss, that realization that the fight is going to be prolonged and that vi is not as unattached to jinx as she says she is…

both of them made strange promises in that tunnel that they didn’t quite keep. how can you blame vi or caitlyn for picking their family over the girl they met less than a month ago? isha was a wildcard in that fight, but they both knew that caitlyn wouldn’t actually miss the shot. vi didn’t flinch when caitlyn shot 2 inches behind her, vi didn’t flinch when cait shot the gun out of isha’s hand, or the finger from jinx’s, etc, etc. it wasn’t about missing, it was the realization for vi that she can’t just cut herself off from her sister (especially when there’s signs that powder is still in there), that it is much easier said than done. and for cait, it was the realization that vi is not with her. that vi never changed.

that’s kind of the issue. vi didn’t want caitlyn to change, but caitlyn wanted vi to change, and they’re both in situations that demand change and stagnancy, respectively. see what i’m saying? does any of this make sense?

#arcane #caitvi #caitlyn arcane #caitlyn kiramman #vi arcane #i am sick as a dog and tired as shit writing this so i might be way off based #eeeueuuughhh

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aurumacadicus · 23 hours ago

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Don’t forget, you can find more of this under my ‘arranged witching au’ tag!

Marriage ceremonies were quick for their people. They had no rites to their roots. Sometimes, a marriage was as simple and private as lovers whispering 'I promise myself to thee' and starting to sleep in the same tent.

Rooted covens apparently needed a spectacle.

Steve ground his teeth together. That wasn't fair. Their marriage ceremonies had purpose to them. Their rites to their families and to their homes were important. Besides, there were other rites that needed to be seen to as well, more important ones, that would take more time. The marriage ceremony would take up time so that they weren't sitting on their hands, growing more and more anxious with nothing to do while Howard and Maria Stark walked the boundaries of their territory.

They had to go through the rites that would cut Anthony's ties to the Stark lands by hand, for a lack of a better term. Step by step, they would have to break each one of his bonds with sheer force. He and Steve would have to be married before that, he'd been told, because he would have to be the one who nursed Anthony through it. The idea made Steve sick to his stomach. He hadn't realized that that was what he was asking for when he'd arrived wearing the Starks' ring. But Anthony had just grimly nodded along as Maria detailed what was to happen next.

"So," Bucky asked as one of the Stark tailors measured Steve for his marriage clothes, examining his nails.

Steve sucked in a breath, held it for three seconds, then let it back out, closing his eyes tiredly. "So?"

"Natasha said Mrs. Stark almost set the emblem on fire," Bucky continued blithely, shrugging.

Steve worked his jaw. His fingers were still singed from where he'd snatched the branded leather off the table, because Maria's face had twisted as soon as she'd seen it, and the edges had started smoldering. They still needed it to show other rooted covens.

Howard hadn't reacted at all, in the moment, but Steve had seen him whispering to Margaret Carter when he and his coven had been led to guest rooms. Ms. Carter's face had twisted into something almost like Maria's, but not quite. He wondered if they'd bring him into the fold before they left, but he also wasn't going to get his hopes up.

"She did," Steve finally answered. "Without any words or movement. She made it smolder with her rage alone."

"Oh shit," Bucky said after the words registered, blinking.

Steve had to agree. Most witches needed at least a gesture to cast a spell. But then, she was from a different country, he'd heard. Perhaps, where she was from, magic was taught differently. No coven practiced magic exactly the same.

Bucky came up to stand beside him, carefully out of the way of the tailor still flitting around him with a tape measure. "So," he said again, but this time there was weight to it, careful and considering.

Steve waited until the tailor stepped away, then turned, pressing his forehead to Bucky's shoulder. "He's hotter than the fucking sun."

Bucky bit back a bark of laughter, but his shoulder shook under Steve's head. "Oh yeah?"

"He has these big brown eyes," Steve continued, even as Bucky's shoulders shook harder with restrained laughter. "And his hair was flopping in them. But I don't think he missed a thing. He didn't even flinch when they talked about severing his bonds."

"Tough guy," Bucky murmured. "What are you giving him as a wedding gift?"

"Whatever he wants," Steve answered, even though it felt entirely inadequate. Luckily, Bucky laughed and took a step back, allowing them both to believe it was a joke, even though they both knew that Tony deserved something for having to be torn away from his coven straight toward war.

#arranged witching au

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benispunk · 3 days ago

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Who's That Girl?

Chapter 5: We Stay Silent

All jokes aside, Wade had too much stuff to deal with. Keeping up his mask was way too hard.

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, D&W, panic attack, mental health issues.

A/N: chapter five is up!!! this one is directly connected to the previous chapter, it's basically the same chapter but from wade's pov, so please make sure you read Part 4 before reading this one!! Please don't be made at me I love wade so much😔✊

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist / Previous Part

Wade woke up later than usual, sunlight already creeping through the blinds. His phone buzzed on the nightstand with a few missed notifications, but he didn’t bother checking them right away. He stretched lazily, rubbing his face. The apartment was quiet, almost too quiet. Logan and Y/N had already left for work, probably hours ago. Good. He didn't think he was in the mood for any morning chit-chat for once.

After throwing on his running gear and grabbing a water bottle, Wade slipped out of the apartment and into the cool morning air. He’d hit his usual route— nothing too long today. He wasn’t up for pushing himself too hard.

He never liked running. He always wondered what part of running was actually satisfying for some people. It helped him clear his mind, gave him space to think, or better yet, not think at all. Maybe he had a toxic relationship with running. Maybe it worked like a drug on him. But he knew he would rather run until his legs give out rather than go down the same path he followed years ago. He knew better now.

The streets were familiar, and Wade let his feet carry him through the neighborhood without much thought. His mind wandered, as it often did, from jokes he was working on to what gig he had next to the weird thing Logan had said last night. Everything felt scattered, but that was normal. He was used to living with his thoughts bouncing around like a pinball machine. His mind felt like a computer with thousands of tabs opened.

But then, just as he rounded a corner near the park, Wade froze. Vanessa.

She was standing there, a few meters away, looking just like she used to—like a ghost from a past life. She hadn’t seen him yet, thank god. His heart slammed into his chest, panic rising as he quickly debated turning around and bolting. Too late.

“Wade?”

Her voice caught him mid-step. He turned, awkwardly waving like an idiot.

“Vanessa, hey!” Wade’s voice came out higher than he wanted, and the grin he plastered on his face felt all wrong.

Vanessa smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners, looking genuinely happy to see him. “I knew that was you. How’ve you been?”

Wade’s brain scrambled for something, anything to say. How have I been? That was a fucking big question. How do you explain six years of missing someone without falling apart? He ran a hand through his hair, nervously glancing at his shoes.

“Oh, you know… same old, same old.” He tried to laugh it off, but his voice cracked.

She didn’t seem to notice his internal chaos. “It’s been so long, huh? We should catch up sometime, what do you think?”

He wanted to run. Run so fast he could break his legs and never even feel it. Catch up? What does that even mean? How do you catch up with someone you’ve been in love with since forever even after you both decided that being friends would be better, and bla bla bla, why was he thinking about this again?

He did his best at hiding his internal panic and forced himself to stay still, nodding like an idiot.

“Yeah, totally! That would be great.” He was still smiling like a maniac, but inside, every alarm bell was going off. Abort. Abort. Abort.

Vanessa seemed pleased with that answer, though. “Great! I’ll text you.”

“Yeah! See ya around, V,” Wade blurted before turning on his heel and jogging away as fast as he could without looking completely insane. He could feel her eyes on him as he sprinted, and he didn’t stop until he was several blocks away, breathing hard.

“Good job, Wade. You fuckin’ idiot,” he muttered to himself, wiping sweat from his forehead. His chest felt tight, but it wasn’t from the run. It was that familiar pressure building inside him, the one he tried so hard to ignore. The feeling of not being able to handle any of it.

———

Wade stood outside Blind Al’s door, debating whether to knock or not. He hadn’t seen her in a while, but she had been a constant in his life during the toughest times. Before Logan. Before everything fell apart.

He knocked, and her voice came through the door, as sharp as ever. “Took you long enough to visit, jackass.”

Wade smiled despite himself, pushing the door open. “Miss me, Al?”

“Not in the slightest,” she quipped. Wade knew she couldn’t see, but the way she was standing in front of him made it look like she was staring right through him, “Something’s going on with you. Spill it.”

Wade plopped down on her couch, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Ran into Vanessa.”

Blind Al didn’t react. She just sat back in her chair. “That so? And you didn’t completely lose your shit?”

Wade snorted. “Define ‘completely.’ I told her we’d catch up, and then I ran away like a coward. Does that count?”

“Yeah, that counts,” Al said, her voice gruff but understanding. “So what now?”

“I don’t know.” Wade rubbed his temples. “She seemed happy, like genuinely happy to see me, and I just… I don’t know what to do with that.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Al said bluntly. “She’s part of your past, and that’s fine. Doesn’t mean you have to dive back into that mess.”

“Yeah, but what if…” Wade trailed off, staring at the ceiling. He wasn’t even sure what he was asking.

“Look, you’ve got your life now. You’ve got Logan, and now this new girl, Y/N, right? Stick to what’s real. Don’t go chasing ghosts.” Al’s voice softened slightly, and Wade felt a pang of gratitude for her, "Or go for it. Just, don’t think about it too much. Let things go their own way." she added.

Easier said than done, but duly noted.

Suddenly, she got up from her chair and walked towards her kitchen. Wade watched her come back with a cup of not-at-all full of alcohol coffee and settle back in her chair.

"So, you didn’t tell me about that new roommate…"

He stayed with her for lunch and then they talked all afternoon. He told her everything she had to know about Y/N, and how Logan was doing, too. But still, he couldn’t shake the thought of what had happened that morning. Vanessa. Al was always right, but the pressure in his chest still hadn’t gone away. It wasn’t just Vanessa. It was everything.

———

By the time Wade got back to the apartment building, the weight in his chest had doubled. He made a turn into an alleyway, the walls suddenly feeling too close. His breath came in shallow gasps, and his hands started to shake.

No no no no no, not now. Not here.

He pressed himself into the corner, knees pulling up to his chest as he tried to get control, but it wasn’t working. He felt like he was drowning, like the air was being sucked out of the alley. Everything was overwhelming.

Breathe, Wade. Just fucking breathe.

He fumbled for his phone and dialed his therapist’s number. He knew she had given him her personal phone number just for emergencies but maybe, maybe this time, it was an emergency. He needed it. Because breathing wasn’t working. After a few agonizing rings, she picked up.

“Wade? What’s going on?”

He could barely get the words out, his voice shaking. “I…I c—can’t »

“Okay, okay,” she said calmly. “You’re going to be fine. You know the drill. Slow your breathing.”

Wade tried, focusing on her voice. After what felt like hours, his breathing steadied, but the tightness in his chest remained.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked and Wade had no idea what to answer. Air was back in his lungs, yes. But that was it.

"I’m losing it. I don’t know what to do." He waited a few seconds for his therapist to answer. When she didn’t, he continued. "I’m lost. I can’t make a choice. I feel like a fuckin’ loser and I don’t know why people are still keeping up with me. And I called you, god, I’m so sorry, I know it’s supposed to be for emergencies only—"

She interrupted him, "Wade, this was an emergency."

Wade shook his head and he watched his free hand for a few seconds, it was shaking like crazy. He didn’t say anything for a while. "Can we have a session soon?"

“Of course, Wade. Can you get to someone, right now? A friend?”

“Logan,” Wade muttered. “I could go see Logan.”

“Good. Do that. You’ve got people, Wade. Lean on them.”

Wade nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “Yeah… yeah, I’ll go see Logan.”

He hung up and dragged himself to his feet, wiping at his face. Get it together, Wade.

———

Logan’s classroom was quiet when Wade arrived, a rare moment of calm at the end of a long day. The coffee shop near the center was still open, so Wade grabbed a box of donuts and two coffees before heading over. Showing up unannounced wasn’t unusual for him—Logan never seemed to mind (he did– Wade chose to ignore it). Besides, the guy could use a donut break anyway.

But as Wade neared the door, that familiar tightness crept back into his chest. Logan’s gonna see right through me. He paused, forcing down the rising anxiety, plastering on his usual grin before pushing the door open.

“Hey, I come bearing gifts. You looked like you could use a sugar rush.”

Logan frowned as soon as he saw him. “You okay?”

I hate him so much.

Wade waved him off, doing his best to sound casual. “Me? Of course! I’m always okay. What’re you talking about?”

Logan didn’t press further, but Wade could feel his friend's eyes lingering on him, studying him like he could sense the tension beneath the surface. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Logan to ask again or not. Wade kept talking, cracking jokes, doing his usual routine, but something in Logan’s steady silence made it harder to maintain.

They sat together, sipping coffee and biting into donuts, the atmosphere light but heavy at the same time. He knew Logan saw through him. He always did. But Logan didn’t push, and for that, Wade was grateful.

As they left the center together, Wade kept the conversation rolling, letting his words spill out faster than usual, a habit he’d sharpened over the years. Keep talking, keep things light, and maybe Logan wouldn’t dig deeper.

“...and I swear, man, if this one guy hadn’t backed off, I would’ve–”

“You sure you’re okay?” Logan’s voice cut through Wade’s ramble, and oh my god, was he using a gentle tone on me?

The question sent a jolt of panic through Wade. He felt the familiar tightening in his chest again, the pressure pushing against the cracks. Not now. Not here.

He immediately forced a laugh, one that felt too loud in his ears, like he wasn’t the one laughing . “Of course! Stop worrying about me, peanut. You’ve got your own crap to deal with. Speaking of which,” Wade added quickly, redirecting the conversation towards something he knew Logan wouldn’t press on, “how’s it going with Y/N, huh? Been hanging out together without me, yet?”

Logan rolled his eyes, but Wade didn’t miss the shift in his expression. He knew Logan had caught the distraction, knew the guy could read him like an open book. But Logan didn’t push, not yet.

“She’s our roommate, Wade,” Logan said.

Wade threw him a wink, keeping up the act. “Sure, sure. Got it.”

Logan let it slide, like Wade knew he would. He always did. Pushing Wade for answers never worked. Logan had learned that a long time ago. He’ll ask again later, Wade thought, the weight of it settling somewhere deep inside him. But for now, at least, Logan let it go.

Wade kept talking, kept deflecting, but even as his voice filled the air, he could feel Logan’s gaze on him, steady, waiting. Logan would be there when the time came, ready to listen. Wade knew that. He always knew that.

But right now? Wade wasn’t ready. Not yet. So he smiled, cracked another joke, and pushed the feeling down a little further.

Maybe later.

XXX

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