#i feel like the firs half was good

[crossbackpoke-check]

Why I Am Not Coming In To Work Today [abridged], Jess Zimmerman

part one | part two

[nomairuins]

also my dads become a spam head 👍👍

[searchingsomewhere]

Love and Deepspace Headcannons!

Here's some of my NSFW LADS headcannons! So this actually turned out a bit longer than I expected. I don't know if these count as headcannons, or just flash fics, haha. I had a ton of fun writing them. You can tell who my mains are lolo👀

I've also included a quote for funsies.

@gameboigyu @shengbiao-shiny @whoyoucallinpinheaddirtydan, @emprechoohana-blog Enjoy!

-Nero

NSFW below the cut.

Zayne:

Being the stoic man he is, he's very reserved when it comes to sex. He held back as long as he could for so many years. Part of him chastises himself for thinking such lewd thoughts of you, his patient and childhood friend, but the other half is enchanted by the way your hips move in those skirts, how your soft lips curl into a smile.

Loves when you sit in his lap. Normally he just enjoys having you close, but when you straddle his hips with your soft thighs, his hands can't help but wander. Over your thighs to grip your ass, dragging you across his hardening cock. Before long you're all flush faced and shy, grinding on his hard on, and he's clinging to whatever shred of self control he has.

His favorite position is you riding his cock, facing him so he can bury his face in your chest and neck. Zayne's pants and moans in your ear make you clench around his thick cock even harder. He often tugs on the slender tie he's tied your wrists behind your back with.

He claims to dislike fucking you in his office after hours, but the flush across his face and the way he grips your neck tighter when you moan his name says otherwise. He'll have you splayed across his desk, legs over his shoulders, before you can blink.

"Once we start, darling...I don't think I'll be able to stop."

Rafayel:

Rafayel talks big game, flirting with you ceaselessly, but he's actually rather shy. The first time he's got you pinned to the floor in his studio, his face is bright red.

He's super vocal, praise for you tumbling out of his mouth and into your ear, especially when you hook your ankles together behind his back. His hands slide from your wrists to intertwine with your fingers, tightly holding your hands above your head as his hips tenderly roll into yours. The movement is so sensual, so passionate, it's got your eyes rolling back.

He gets pussydrunk soo easily. One thrust in and you're all he can think about, the way you feel around his cock, how your skin glistens with sweat, the way your breasts bounce with every thrust. Your smell, your voice, his senses are just overwhelmed with the essence of you.

He's definitely got a praise kink. The first time you cried out how good he felt, he nearly came inside you right then and there. His thrusts get sloppier and uncoordinated and he can't pull out in time.

"Fuck, please, don't stop. I need you."

Xavier:

Like Zayne, he tries to hold back his true feelings at first. You catch the way he watches your thighs, the way he swallows slowly at how the fabric slips up your skin. One day, he can't stop himself.

Even while eating you out, he still keeps a tight restraint on his self control. You're already half out of your mind, back arching at the way he devours your sopping wet entrance. He's truly mastered how to please you, his tongue circling your clit and fingers sliding in and out of you. But still, you can tell he's holding back.

Whimpering his name is the key. That's when his eyes darken, his breaths get heavier. That's when he grips your thighs to throw them over his shoulders, to stuff you full of his thick cock. He's going hard and fast, completely unable to stop himself. Xavier's pussydrunk on the way you feel wrapped around him, and he worships every part of your body. Hands and mouth massaging your breasts, cradling your head to press his forehead against yours.

He loves hickeys. Giving them and getting them. You'll wake up with marks all over your neck and chest.

"You take me so well. So good for me."

Sylus:

This man is mean in bed. He's shamelessly flirted with you since he first saw you, and he fully intends to follow through with every subtle promise he's made.

He's in charge, but as much as he loves tying you up and making you beg for his cock, there's something exciting coursing through him when you handcuff his hands together behind his back. You ride him nice and slow, fucking yourself with his member, and all he can think about is how maybe he should be submissive more often.

Sylus is the type that enjoys fucking you rough. He slaps your face as he's hammering into your cunt, watching the way your pupils dilate with lust at the rough treatment. A quick slap to your quivering clit has you clenching him tighter and falling over the edge of orgasm.

Consent is the sexiest thing. Knowing that you fully want him to manhandle you, knowing that you're enjoying every second makes him wild. But he's still listening to you. One word from you, and he's wiping your tears, slowing down, kissing you gently and asking if you're okay.

He has you bent over, back arched and head pulled back so he can murmur filthy things in your ear right before he comes, more times than you can count.

"You're going to make me cum. That's what you want, hmm?"

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

thigh riding w slash

A/n: Yes yes absolutely

Warnings: Smut, thigh riding, jealousy, degradation, squirting, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

HELP I couldn’t see the guitar when I saw this

Slash and those fucking cats.

You understood his love for them, you loved them too but when he paid more attention to them than he did you it bugged you.

It's not like he would ever purposefully ignore you just to spend time with the cats, they just stole his attention from you every now and then. More often than not. He gets distracted by cats on the streets, it's like he looks for them.

Slash is the leader of the cats, they come out of the crevices in the cracks of the cement to find him. Slash is seven cats in a trench coat.

He came back from tour the day before and had spent time with you, every part of you, but today he'd been spending most of his time with the cats. They kept coming up to him and he couldn't just turn them away, that would be rude.

You were sitting in bed curled up next to him as a movie played on the TV in your shared room. It was just the two of you and that got you thinking.

You tugged your shorts down and started rubbing your clit, having opted out of wearing panties earlier. Obviously Slash noticed and smirked down at you. "Thought you would've had enough of touching yourself by now." His voice was low and soft in your ear as his arm snaked around you and his hand replaced your, thick fingers taking care of your sensitive nub.

You leaned into him and relaxed into the bed, letting your body get the attention it deserved, soft moans leaving you as his fingers moved faster.

The opened, which was strange since no one else was home. You couldn't see what happened immediately but you knew exactly what it was when you heard a meow and that grey figure hopped up onto the bed.

One of the cats had managed to open the closed door and snuck in during your time. Slash covered you up and wiped his hand on the sheets before reaching for his cat.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "Cock blocker..." You muttered.

"Aw, you made her mad." He teased, holding the cat and kissing its head. You could swear you saw the side eye it gave you.

"What happened to my attention?" You asked, looking up at him with a pout and big eyes.

"You got your attention." He said, petting the cat peacefully with his clean hand. You scoffed again and pushed the blanket down, revealing your naked bottom half. "Not my fault the cat came in." You crossed your arms over your chest, turning your nose up to him and looking back to the TV. "If you really that desperate get yourself off in front of the cat."

You'd prefer it if the cat wasn't here at all but if he insisted on giving it more attention than you then so be it.

You moved to straddle Slash's lap, when he saw what you were doing he figured he'd be nice and move down on the bed so you at least wouldn't be fighting the cat for space on his lap, though he still played with the cat before thinking of looking at you.

He was still in his jeans, not ready to strip for bed yet. Feeling the fabric as your dragged your clit over it was almost too much, it felt so fucking good.

You kept grinding on his thigh to get yourself off, hands moving from your own legs to the mattress, never staying for too long and continuously trying to find the perfect spot to rest. Whenever you rode him your hands would be on him, on his stomach or chest, sometimes on the headboard or wall, but those weren't options with the fucking furball in the way.

You whined and whined, waiting for something but he just kept petting and staring at the cat, occasionally mumbling something to the cat about you, how whiny and needy you were. "Making mommy all jealous, are you?" He smiled at the cat. Of course you were the cats parents because Slash was losing his mind, how could he pay attention to it when you were all ready for him?

"Slash, please." You whined, reaching for his wrist.

"I told you to get yourself off." The first thing he'd said directly to you in a while.

"I know, and I can just please pay attention to me." He sighed and pushed you off of him, taking the cat and walking towards the door. Your eyes stayed glued to the wet spot on his jeans as he locked the cat out of the bedroom and came back to you.

He sat with his hands behind his head. "I'm not fucking touching you." You pouted slightly at the harsh tone but accepted nonetheless and got yourself back onto his thigh and continuing your movements.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

This wasn't much better than when the cat was in the room, he still wasn't looking at you, he wasn't touching you. "Fucking slut, thought I was done with you last night." He'd mumble such harsh words into your ears. It hurt to hear him say such things about you but it felt so good, tying up a knot in your gut.

He knew what he was doing, he always knew what he was doing with you and when that knot finally snapped and you came hard on his thigh, squirting all over him and making a mess, you knew you'd be rewarded for your good work.

"Oh, fuck." He muttered, pushing you back a bit so he could watch your cum soak into his jeans. Your body trembled and your arms stayed wrapped around him as tears fell from your eyes.

He looked up at you with a smile, a bigger one than he'd give the cats for sure. "What a good girl, making a mess on my leg like that all by yourself?" You smiled and nodded as he let you cling to him tighter once more.

"I-I can get attention now..?" You asked, your voice soft with a pleading tone.

"Of course, anything you want." He said, kissing your cheek. You gave a small amused hum at that.

"No more cats in the bedroom." He gave your ass a smack.

[blekitnyzamek]

Illustrations from "Blue Castle"

In Poland we have 5 translations of "Blue Castle" (and in the 1st one Valancy is not named Valancy but Joanna (Joanne); and I think it's funny enough to dedicate separate post about that in the future) and one of them has such a magical illustrations, that I need to share them <3

All of them are from this edition of "The Blue Castle"/"Błękitny zamek" (which was translated by Jolanta Bartosik) and were drawn by Katarzyna Karina Chmiel. Cover too, just look at it! I love this artstyle.

I will add quotes adjacent to the illustrations above them. That one is on title-page, gorgeous<3

Valancy went home by the short-cut of Lover’s Lane. She did not often go through Lover’s Lane—but it was getting near supper-time and it would never do to be late. Lover’s Lane wound back of the village, under great elms and maples, and deserved its name. It was hard to go there at any time and not find some canoodling couple—or young girls in pairs, arms intertwined, earnestly talking over their little secrets. Valancy didn’t know which made her feel more self-conscious and uncomfortable.

She [Valancy] had flatly refused to take either Purple Pills or Redfern’s Bitters. She had announced coolly that she did not intend to answer to the name of “Doss” any longer. She had told Cousin Stickles that she wished she would give up wearing that brooch with Cousin Artemas Stickles’ hair in it. She had moved her bed in her room to the opposite corner. She had read Magic of Wings Sunday afternoon. When Cousin Stickles had rebuked her Valancy had said indifferently, “Oh, I forgot it was Sunday”—and had gone on reading it.

Cousin Stickles had seen a terrible thing—she had caught Valancy sliding down the bannister. Cousin Stickles did not tell Mrs. Frederick this—poor Amelia was worried enough as it was.

Valancy had walked out to Roaring Abel’s house on the Mistawis road under a sky of purple and amber, with a queer exhilaration and expectancy in her heart. Back there, behind her, her mother and Cousin Stickles were crying—over themselves, not over her. But here the wind was in her face, soft, dew-wet, cool, blowing along the grassy roads. Oh, she loved the wind! The robins were whistling sleepily in the firs along the way and the moist air was fragrant with the tang of balsam. Big cars went purring past in the violet dusk—the stream of summer tourists to Muskoka had already begun—but Valancy did not envy any of their occupants. Muskoka cottages might be charming, but beyond, in the sunset skies, among the spires of the firs, her Blue Castle towered. She brushed the old years and habits and inhibitions away from her like dead leaves. She would not be littered with them.

“We’ll just sit here,” said Barney, “and if we think of anything worth while saying we’ll say it. Otherwise, not. Don’t imagine you’re bound to talk to me.”

“John Foster says,” quoted Valancy, “‘If you can sit in silence with a person for half an hour and yet be entirely comfortable, you and that person can be friends. If you cannot, friends you’ll never be and you need not waste time in trying.’”

“Evidently John Foster says a sensible thing once in a while,” conceded Barney.

“There’s our island,” he said gloatingly.

Valancy looked—and looked—and looked again. There was a diaphanous, lilac mist on the lake, shrouding the island. Through it the two enormous pine-trees that clasped hands over Barney’s shack loomed out like dark turrets. Behind them was a sky still rose-hued in the afterlight, and a pale young moon.

Valancy shivered like a tree the wind stirs suddenly. Something seemed to sweep over her soul.

“My Blue Castle!” she said. “Oh, my Blue Castle!”

Valancy and Barney turned under the mainland pines in the cool dusk of the September night for a farewell look at the Blue Castle. Mistawis was drowned in sunset lilac light, incredibly delicate and elusive. Nip and Tuck were cawing lazily in the old pines. Good Luck and Banjo were mewed and mewing in separate baskets in Barney’s new, dark-green car en route to Cousin Georgiana’s.

[octuscle]

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

There are holidays that I'm convinced the world doesn't need… St. Patrick's Day, for example. I think it's perfectly fine to be proud of your heritage. I mean, I have an Italian grandmother. I'm totally proud of that. She makes the best pasta in the world. Hehehe, if you look at my belly, you can tell.

You see St. Patrick's Day parades on every channel. It's pure brainwashing! I look at my stomach again… Maybe I'll use the day to do something for my fitness. The streets are full of happy people. Intrusively cheerful people with funny green hats.

The guy at reception is wearing a green T-shirt. And has a shamrock painted on his cheek. I could puke. "Hi mate, nice to see you. Not much going on today. But we'd like to take a few pictures for social media later. Something along the lines of today-we've-trained-in-green. Would you wear this tank top for training?" He holds something green out to me. Fortunately without a shamrock or a funny gnome. It looks like a rugby jersey. Maybe a little big. I smile painfully. "Mate, give yourself a jolt! I'll give you a protein flat rate and free training for three months!" You don't care about the protein flat rate. But free training for three months… You'll save a good 150 dollars. Then it won't be so bad that you come here so rarely.

"Come on, give it to me!" you say and give him a fist bump. Fist bump? What's wrong with you today? All right… Put on your jersey, half an hour on the cross trainer, then maybe a bit of chest training. And then that should be it. And if you absolutely have to post pictures of it. You go to the changing area. Yawning emptiness. Exactly to your taste, actually! You undress, put on the sweatpants and then the jersey. You take a quick look in the mirror. An overweight quarter-Italian in a green rugby jersey. You doubt that this will bring the gym even one new follower, let alone a customer.

You usually start on the cross trainer with low resistance. Today you can try something new. It's empty, no one is watching, you can't embarrass yourself. So you go to the rowing machine. You have no experience with that. So you hit the maximum resistance. And off you go! After half an hour, you wipe the sweat from your forehead. Your jersey sticks to your chest, soaked with sweat. The gym employee stands in front of you with a grin. "Bro, those were some really awesome shots! What are you up to now?" You grumble that rowing is a good base for lat training. And that you're currently doing antagonist training. So combine it with chest training. "Nice, that should make for great pictures." You don't give a damn that the camera is following you the whole time. Focus on the training. And finally, no consideration for others. Moan and grunt when you feel like it. And today you're lifting the heavy weights. That requires a loud scream or two.

Shit, you've been here for almost three hours. You're done. You shout to your gym's social media representative that it's time for the final show. You take off your slightly too tight jersey with some difficulty. And wring out the sweat. You smile at the camera and say "Happy St. Patrick's Day, bros! Stay focused and train hard!" Your buddy gives you a fist bump and says it was a lot of fun with you again. You hand him your cell phone and ask him for a photo. For your own account.

Caption: "Is as Éirinn a thagann fir réadúla i gcónaí! Buailigí, a chairde, agus go raibh Lá Fhéile Pádraig iontach agaibh!"

[syoddeye]

the warren, part two

price x f!reader | 2.9k words

part one (prologue)

CW: blood (mentioned), dead animals, stalking

One bedroom. One bath. A screened-in porch. A carport. A woodshed. Fully furnished.

The old cabin in the woods is perfect.

No one answers the first call to the number on the ad, and the voicemail doesn't offer a clue as to who ought to answer. You leave a message anyway. After calling upwards of fifty places in the last week, you're desperate. The end of the month's coming up. Since you turned the motel manager down, he's wanted you out.

You fill out the rental application before hearing back, thank the gods there's no fee, and send it off with a sugary-sweet note and signature.

A woman calls back when you're in the middle of the supermarket. Congratulations, you want the place? You got it. It feels quick and surprising, but who are you to look a gift horse in the mouth? For the next four months, the cabin's yours. The landlady launches into details, forcing you to jot down directions on the back of your list. No GPS up here, she explained. The forest is too thick. Too many trees? Not a bad thing, in your opinion.

"Sure you're alright with sight unseen?"

"Yeah, I trust the pictures in the ad," You don't. "I'm itching to spend the summer in nature."

"Grouse Bay is a good spot for a getaway. You might not want to leave when the lease is up."

The sentiment makes you smile. "Sounds perfect."

~~

There is no welcome sign for Grouse Bay. No indication you're close until you're right up on it, or rather, over it.

A thick quilt of pine, fir, and cedar hugs the gravel roadway. Asphalt disappeared some ten miles back, and you pray your car and its ancient tires stick out the descent into town. You're careful not to lean your full weight against the overlook's worn wooden fence. Below you, the road carves a series of switchbacks until it sweeps through a dozen or so lakeside structures. Thin tendrils of smoke curl up from more properties hidden by trees. With the blues of the lake and mountains on the horizon, it's a regular postcard.

Your teeth clatter, and the car shakes the whole way down. You pass a few gated forestry roads and private drives with quirky names before the road curves a final time and spits you out onto the main street. The only street.

We are not in Kansas anymore.

You don't miss a single building, crawling along at the posted speed of 15 MPH. There's a motel, a veterinary office, a grocer, and a water and sewer utility building, and where the road splits to continue along the lake or further up a hill into the woods is the Foxhole.

A rough-looking pub, your lip curls at the horrifically taxidermied fox in the window beside the door. You pull into a makeshift parking spot next to an old Ranger, collect yourself, and head inside. 

Three heads swivel in your direction, two patrons and the barkeep. The men's expressions are unreadable, but the woman behind the counter offers a thin smile. 

"Sit where you'd like."

The stale air smells like heat and cigarette smoke, and the ceiling fans do little to dissipate either. "I'm actually popping in to pick up a key? To a rental?" Your eyes flick to the men at the bar, not wanting to state precisely where you're staying in front of them.

The woman's smile turns knowing. "Right. We spoke on the phone. I'm Kate Laswell. I own the cabin."

"Owns half the town," One of the men snorts, pinching the neck of his bottle for a swig.

"Ignore him," Her hand disappears into her vest pocket and produces a carabiner with one key. "You got the check?"

"Yes," You pull out your billfold, carefully slide the folded paper slip out from between cards, and exchange it for the key.

Kate inspects it briefly, then dips her head. "Need me to wait to cash it?"

Your face heats at the implication. You hadn't listed employment on the application but assumed the bank's letter spoke for you. After all, she accepted you. "No. Cash it whenever you'd like."

"Alright then. Know where you're going?"

"Yes ma'am, I do."

"So polite," she chuckles, glancing at the men who grin at you. "Well then, enjoy. Call me if you need anything or have questions."

You hightail it out of the bar, and try to ignore the weight of three sets of eyes on your back. 

~~

The engine clicks as it cools, the only sound louder than the birdsong. Wedged between the open driver's door, you stand, feet firmly planted, yet feel like you could float. You made it.

The cabin is a deep red oxblood, faded by weather and time. The carport sags more than in the pictures, and the woodshed is nearly cleaned out, but it looks like a dream. Sunlight drapes over the front half of the structure, and a breeze catches a wooden wind chime over the exterior door of the porch.

Hauling your bags out of the backseat, you trek up the gravel drive. The key slots in easily, like the hardware's brand new. The door inches open, and the smell of musty, trapped air leaks out. Here we go.

You exhale a shaky breath. So far, so good. The pictures continue to match reality. The door opens to the dining and kitchen area with a honey oak table draped in a checkered runner, coordinating cabinetry, a towering glass-doored cabinet on the wall, and the back entrance dead ahead. To the left are a couch and armchair, with a low table and a padded woolen rug beneath. The door to the screened porch also sits to the left, with the entrances you presume leading to the bedroom and bathroom ahead.

Wood paneling lines every room. Others might think it tacky, but you find it charming and warm. It makes it a bonafide cabin, one you've pictured a thousand times. The bedroom is sparse, with a simple furniture set including a dresser, a nightstand, a lamp, and a vintage brass bed frame.

You make quick work of settling in. The space is tidy enough, though it's clear that Kate probably hasn't stopped in since you signed the lease. You open the windows for fresh air and do a little dusting. The dining table swiftly becomes the catch-all, with the miscellaneous other belongings you brought scattered over its surface, including the prehistoric laptop you handed a middle-aged woman a wad of cash for in the parking lot of a Walmart. You'd left in a hurry but planned meticulously. Aside from a few necessities and groceries, you have everything you need.

In the screened porch, you discover a glider and ottoman needing new upholstery and a lacquered wooden sign with lettering spelling out The Warrens. It rests on a windowsill, covered in a thin layer of grime. You think it must be from the former owners and leave it out of an odd sense of respect.

An hour later, the place aired out, you shut the windows, clip the car and cabin key together, and hesitate at the door. What's the protocol out here? You've never lived anywhere that didn't require multiple deadbolts. The town's simplicity and the woods' peacefulness - you can't even see the end of the property's driveway from the step - make you think it's probably okay…But then you think of the men in the bar. They didn't look bad, but the bad ones rarely did.

Mind made up, you lock the door.

~~

The walk from the main thoroughfare to the cabin is ten, maybe fifteen minutes uphill. Sandals weren't the move, a reminder you tuck away for the next trip. Your focus stretches back to Grouse Grocery and its shopkeep, and you swallow hard at your naivete. 

"Aw, I didn't know you could feed the deer like this."

"It's bait, sweetheart."

Lingering humiliation propels you up the slope to your newfound sanctuary. It doesn't help the grocer's handsome. His eyes are the same color as the lake, his face framed by a beard and mustache, punctuating the mountain man look. Tall with a broad chest and shoulders that taper into a trim waist. Burly arms dusted with hair, chest too, far as you could tell through the open uppermost buttons of his shirt. Your mind fills in the blanks of what his bootcut jeans and flannel covered. Something peculiar to him, though, and you can't put your finger on it.

I'm overthinking this. It's a small town. I'm not used to it, yet. 

Not weird, just different.

The four words become your mantra when odd things start within days of your arrival.

~~ 

As you told the good-looking grocer, you are an animal lover through and through. The child who toted frogs home from the playground pushed their nose to the glass outside pet stores and braked for ducklings. You dabbled with a vegetarian diet, failed, and overspent at farmers' markets in weak absolution. But you had never been a pet person. Life never allowed for it. 

Which is why the cats are bewildering. Within the first week, three feral cats traipse about the property. By the end of week two, you count nine. Lounging in the woodpile, hiding beneath your car, or sitting on the step like they own the place. They skitter and hiss when you approach and don't touch the scraps of food you leave out to curry favor.

Then there are the 'gifts' they leave you. Headless birds, mice, and other small mammals. Entrails and viscera steaming on the cement step in the high noon sunlight. The Internet says it's normal, you say it's disgusting.

You read cats leave dead animals when they believe their human is helpless. That they see humans as big, furless, and inept hunters whose survival is in peril because they lack the innate ability to track, pursue, and kill.

Scraping the latest offering off their altar, you shrug off such notions. They're probably upset that their favorite place to squat is now occupied.

Then, the carcasses quadruple in size. One early morning, you decide to walk down to the lake to read with a cup of coffee, only to drop the mug and book into the dirt. A gutted doe is not fifteen feet from the front door beside your car. Black eyes lolled skyward, pinna flopped over its skull, and legs akimbo. After sprinting and vomiting into the kitchen sink, you call Kate.

"Sorry that's happened, I can send someone up to remove it in the next half hour. You ought to know that you might see more stuff like that, kid. Area's rich in wildlife - bears, cougars, bobcats, wolves, hell, even eagles drop half-eaten marmots from time to time."

You remain on the kitchen floor, repeating your new mantra, and not fifteen minutes later, tires on gravel announce someone's arrival. Mercifully, no one comes to the door. Whoever it is doesn't even kill the engine. You hear footsteps crunching on rock, the doe's body hitting the bed of a truck, the slam of a door, and the person pulling away.

Mustering the courage to stand, you stare from the front door, eyes transfixed on the blood left behind. You pray for rain.

It doesn't come.

~~

The front light won't turn on. You swap the lightbulb with a spare from the cupboard and zip. Nothing. You call Kate, whose patience seems a deep well. She promises to send the local handyman and gets off the phone in a hurry. Annoyingly, you don't get a name or a time.

It's noon when a red pick-up arrives the next day. You're on your feet, off the glider and its ottoman on the porch, and barefoot when the door to the truck swings open. The practiced smile you wear falters a little when a familiar cut of a man steps out, sizes up the cabin in a glance, and then turns to grab a toolbox from the bed.

You meet him at the door.

"You're the handyman, too?"

The crow's feet by his eyes tighten with a smirk. "And the locksmith." His chin lifts to the sconce. "This it?"

"The one."

"Right, I'll get a stepladder and it'll be in working order within the hour. Mind shutting off the power in the meantime?" 

"Of course. Need anything else from me?" 

His smile's a waxing crescent, mouth twitching like he's got something clever to say. You've seen it before on the mugs of men trying to get fresh with you, but he keeps whatever it is locked behind his teeth.

"No. I'll let you know when you can turn the power on."

The hum of the refrigerator dies with the electricity, leaving the cabin completely quiet. You return to the glider and book, thumbing through to find your place. Convenient, the screened porch catches the fleeting hours of direct sunlight that hits the cabin. It also allows you a chance to watch and listen to him work.

"Name's John, by the way," He says after a while, voice clipped, meeting your eye through the screen when you look up. "You didn't ask."

It's off-putting, the way he speaks. It wasn't as if he conducted himself with overt kindness at his store, but you hadn't expected him - John - to take a tone with you, a stranger. A newcomer. Your smile is eager to smooth things over, a beat faster than any instinct to fight, always has been. "You're right, how rude of me."

His focus returns to the light, giving a slight roll of his shoulders as if your apology lifted a weight off his back. "S'alright, reckon you're learning how things work 'round here."

You want to return to Winterson in your lap, but the poorly disguised condescension fans a spark of annoyance. "You haven't asked for mine."

"I know yours," He responds, pulling a rag from a loop on his pants to wipe at something. "Kate talks."

The paperback spine creaks in your grip. "I suppose that comes with owning the watering hole."

He chuckles, exchanging the rag for a pair of pliers. "Something like that."

You don't ask. Handsome John may be, but he is definitely weird. Best to avoid the bad side of the nearest grocer, handyman, and locksmith. You return to reading, and another half hour slips past. You don't notice until the hum of the refrigerator restarts, practically jolting you out of the chair.

John stands washing his hands in your kitchen sink. You did not invite him in. His head turns, seemingly hearing how your breath stutters, and he nods at the switch beside the door.

"Give 'er a try," He says, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

The light works, and you flick it a few times to be sure. You stare up at the light, listening to its muted hum.

"Y'know," John murmurs, suddenly behind you in the doorway, leaning, supported by an arm, on the frame well above your head. "This is an old place. Doesn't get let often. Probably more repairs hiding around here. Already saw a few holes in the screen. I can take a walkthrough and fix what I can while I'm here."

Your head dips back, neck craning to meet his eye at this angle. It doesn't occur to you to move despite the whole of the front yard before you. You swallow. He's only trying to drum up business. A small-town entrepreneur. Trying to survive just like you. "Maybe another time."

John raps two knuckles on the frame and pushes off. "Alright, I'll gather my things." He brushes against you as he passes and collects his tools and stepladder.

You watch him from the entry and offer a weak smile when he returns, holding a notepad. He fishes a pencil out from a pocket, scribbling a moment, before he tears off a page and holds it out – an old-fashioned carbon invoice.

Not weird, just different.

"Pay when you can. You know where to find me."

You take the invoice. "Not afraid I'll skip town?" You joke, trying to gauge his sense of humor.

He grins and huffs a laugh. It sounds only a little forced. "Not at all. I know all the best spots from the bay to the mountains, for hiding or otherwise." He rubs the back of his neck.

Your brows creep up. "Or otherwise?"

John's eyes widen a fraction, and his hand slips from his neck in a gesture of surrender. "Don't mean anything by that. More like…for food. Dinner, maybe? A hike?"

The sheepishness of his tone does him credit. So what if he's a little awkward or indelicate? Probably as nervous as you are, though clearly for different reasons. In town for all of two weeks and already a local's taken interest. Inwardly, you preen.

"That sounds like a date."

"It does." He concedes.

You start to shut the door on him, stopping when his expression falls into absolute confusion. A laugh bubbles up, and you open the door again. "Well? You didn't ask," You playfully turn his words back on him.

"Smart one, aren't you. Alright then," He muses aloud, smiling. "Would you like to grab dinner later this week? Know a good spot within a half hour of here."

The way he looks at you, eyes crinkling with interest, you don't suppose it's a bad idea to get out, make friends, and immerse yourself in the community. "I'd like that, John."

There's a triumphant glint in his eyes. "I'll be in touch, sweetheart." He dips his head, returns to his truck, and flashes a wave when he pulls a u-turn and drives out.

That night, when you return from a walk to watch the sunset, you flip on the porch light, grinning, thinking about your date.

You do not notice the little red dot within the bulb.

[alloftheimagines]

joel miller | left behind

masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

words: 2.9k

warnings: angst, angst, angst. so much angst. ep two spoilers. tess's death. grief. loss. infected stuff. reader is tess's younger sister. age gap. more angst. so much angst. slightly violent reader.

synopsis: in which joel honours a promise he made to tess that means he must force reader to leave your infected sister behind in boston. resentment and a bit of hurt/comfort ensues as you head to frank and bill's.

sibling!tess x reader, reader x joel, little bit of reader x ellie

tags: @sweetbabygirlsworld

“Holy shit. She’s infected.”

You didn’t think the world could fall apart twice, but you look at Tess as Ellie's words settle in and realise you were wrong. Here you are again, losing everything. This time, you don’t know if you can survive. 

“Tess…” you whisper, shaking your head slowly. “No. No. No.” 

Beside you, Joel is deadly still. He looks at your sister with such detachment that you want to scream. This is Tess. Fucking Tess. 

But you know him. You know he’s good at switching off when things get tough. Not like you. You wear your heart on your damn sleeve, and you can’t fucking do this. You look at her again, heart breaking. You feel every tear, every shard slipping through your ribcage. Tess is motionless — resigned. She wears sadness, but no fear. None anybody but you can see, anyway. You grew up with her. You can see the fading light in her eyes in a way the others won’t. 

And you don’t know what to do.

“Let me see it,” Joel orders quietly.

“Joel…” Tess pleads. 

“Show me,” he growls. 

Bitterly, she tears down the collar of her shirt, revealing the infection blossoming across bruised veins. Your knees threaten to buckle, nausea rising in your throat. 

“No.” Tears slip down your cheeks, and you’re already searching the room again for some hint the Fireflies might have left, some sign that it won’t end like this. “No. The girl is a cure. If we can just—”

Tess is saying your name. You’re not listening. If you listen, it will be real. If you listen, you will have to say goodbye to the only family you have left. 

“Joel,” she’s saying now. “This kid… this kid is real, okay? You gotta get her, get them both, to Tommy’s. He’ll know where to go, what to do.”

“No. No, I’m not doing that,” he replies. 

You’re still rattling around, searching old papers and nooks for something, anything; as though you’ll find a miracle in the shadows. 

“If not for the kid then for her.” Tess’s voice rises. You squeeze your eyes shut, your back turned to her. “She needs you, Joel. This is the end of the road for me, but you need to keep going. Promise me."

“I’m not leaving you here!” you shout, throwing the first thing you find against the wall. It smashes to dust. “We’ll find a way out of this, Tess. We always fucking do. Let’s just stop and figure it out!” 

“There is no figuring it out.” Tess marches over to you, gripping your face in her hands. You try so hard to fight it, so hard to stay in denial, but you look at her drawn face and know she’s already half-gone. You know the worry furrowing her brows isn’t for herself, but for you. For what will happen to you now. She practically raised you, toughening you up or else cradling you through the bad nights, never any in between. It made you both strong and so unbearably weak. Not like Joel, who has never let anything touch him. 

You choke on a sob and close your eyes. “Please, Tess. Please. This can’t be it. I need you.”

“I need you. I need you to be safe. I need you to keep going. Please, sweetheart.” She softens, brushing the tears from your eyes. “Please. For me.”

“No—” 

The sound of moans and the shuffling of uneven footsteps interrupt your protest. Joel goes to the window and curses, readying his gun. “Infected. Shit tonne of ‘em. We gotta go.”

You grab Tess’s wrist without thinking. “Come on.”

But she slips out of your grasp, stepping away from all of you. Ellie has tears in her eyes, but she says nothing, looking for the first time not to Tess or Joel, but to you. 

“I can buy you some time, but you have to run. You have to go,” Tess whispers. 

You shake your head again, ferociously this time. “No. No, I’m not leaving. If you stay, I stay.”

She snaps her head away. “Joel. Get her out of here.”

You fight back a bitter scoff, fists curling at your sides — but then hands lock around your arms, nudging you away. “Come on," Joel grunts. "We have to go. Now.”

The betrayal stings. This is fucking Tess. Of all people, he should want to help her. He shouldn’t be giving up on her. 

You snarl, “Fuck you if you think I’m going anywhere!” 

He doesn’t let up, face carved from stone. “We can’t stay,” he hisses, ducking his head to meet your eye. “You want us all to die?” 

“You go! I’m not—”

“Now, Joel!” Tess is yelling. “Get her the fuck out of here now!”

He swears under his breath again and then his arms are like a vice around your waist, your feet lifting from the floor as he drags you away, kicking and screaming. 

“No!” You’re shrieking now, vocal cords ripping apart as you try to reach for your sister. "Tess!"

But she doesn’t reach back. She turns away, and you know with certainty it’s the last time you’ll see her face. 

“Tess, please!” Sobs erupt from you, and you fight harder now, but Joel is too strong, too broad, too heavy-handed to let you go. “Please! Please! Let me go! Let me stay with her! She's my fucking sister, Joel!” 

The fresh air hits you all at once. One moment you’re there, watching your sister get smaller and smaller as infected scratch and rattle the doors, and then you’re back in the rubble of the drab city, the gold dome of Massachusetts State House dwindling. 

And then exploding.

As your feet finally hit the floor and you try to nudge Joel away, the earth cracks with black smoke and you’re thrown to the ground. Joel’s warmth shields you, and you feel Ellie trembling at your side. 

Silence blankets you like ash. It takes a moment for your brain to comprehend it. Any of it. 

You shove Joel to look back at the State House. The building that is no longer a building, just debris and fire. 

The building where your sister was standing not a moment ago. 

“No.” You say the word differently now. Softer. Devastation pierces through it, through you. She’s gone. Tess is gone. 

“Darlin’...” Joel puts his hand on your shoulder and squeezes, and fury sparks through you. 

“You did this!” you scream, hitting his chest again, and again and again. “You took away my choice!” Because the truth is, you would sooner have died in there with Tess than carry on without her. “You took away my fucking sister!” Because he’d gotten her into the jobs, the smuggling. He’d done all of this. 

Joel doesn’t react, barely even budging as you slam into him. His jaw is set, trembling, throat bobbing, and finally he catches your hands and locks his fingers around your wrists. “Look at me.” 

You can’t. You can’t look at him, or anywhere else. You want to vomit. You want to disappear. 

Instead, your chin wobbles and your ribcage opens up and everything pours out of you as you wail. 

He catches you as you sink to the ground, pulling you to his chest, and you’re too weak to push him away now. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair, rocking you gently. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart. There was nothing else we could do. Nothing else I could do. But look at me. Please look at me.” He grips your jaw just as Tess had, and you flinch. You hate him. You fist his shirt between your fingers and you want to destroy it, destroy everything around him. 

Except you don’t. He’s all you have left, and the realisation makes you numb. Joel fucking Miller is the only goddamn person you have. 

You do as he asks. You look at him. 

“She bought us time," he says. "We can’t waste it now. Do you understand? We can grieve her later, but right now, we gotta go. We have to get up and keep going. For Tess.”

You hate that he’s right most of all. As you begin to shut down, shock taking over, you look back at the smoking State House and stand. And then you clutch Joel’s collar and bare your teeth. 

Ellie stumbles towards you, eyes round with fear, but you’ve lost the will to care about her presence. You’ve lost everything today.

“Don’t you fucking say her name again,” you snap. “You lost that right. I blame you. I blame you for who she became, who we’ve all become.”

Anguish curls across Joel’s features, but you refuse to feel guilty. You let him go roughly and grab your backpack off the floor, the same one you’d clutched during the outbreak just after you’d watched your parents get savaged by your infected neighbours, Tess dragging you to safety. You’d been thirteen years old, and your sister had gotten you through hell and back, that night and every other one that came after. 

“It shouldn’t have ended like this,” you whisper into the wind, swallowing your own tears. 

It’s the last moment you allow yourself to have, and then you wipe your damp cheeks and glare down at Joel again. 

“Get up. Let’s go.”

He does, looking winded as he rises from his knees to his feet. You allow him to lead the way only because he knows the city, knows his way around, far better than you did. Tess rarely let you do jobs out of the QZ, protective until the bitter fucking end. 

You wish more than anything you could have protected her. 

***

You don’t get the chance to catch your breath again until you get to Bill and Frank’s — which is empty. You never met them yourself, but you know Tess warmed to them, so to find them dead too… it feels like the last piece of good in the world is truly gone. You slump onto their couch still wrapped in numbness as Joel and Ellie gather supplies, reluctant to so much as look at you. Later, you hear them talking about showering, and Ellie thumps up the stairs, leaving the place quiet. You should wash, too. You should eat, drink, prepare for whatever comes next, but you can’t move. Can’t do anything. 

After minutes, or perhaps hours, of silence, Joel kneels in front of you with a plate of food. “You need to eat, darlin'. I know it’s hard, but you have to.”

You hate him calling you that. He never used to call you that. He barely addressed you at all, stubborn, grumpy old man he is. But he’s been family for a long time, and the three of you��� 

You got by together. Until now. 

You glance down at the food and your stomach turns. 

“Please,” he whispers, voice cracking. It surprises you, that vulnerability bleeding into his words — and it seems to surprise him too, by the look on his face. You’ve never seen him like this. Not once. 

You take a bite for that alone. It’s dry in your mouth, and you find it hard to swallow, so you push the rest away. He sighs and puts it down on the coffee table, swapping the plate for his flask. You take a swig, whiskey burning like vinegar in your throat. 

“If I talk,” he asks, “will you listen?”

“No,” you answer honestly. “No, I don’t feel much like listenin’, Joel.”

Still, he takes your hand. You glare at your intertwined fingers but make no move to pull away. Perhaps part of you still needs to be coddled, taken care of the way Tess might have.

And maybe you need to know you’re not alone. That he isn’t going to give up on you the way he so easily did with Tess. Which is sick, you know, but you’ve never much been able to help the way you feel about him. The way you have always wanted to peel away his layers and understand him. Tear away his self-hatred, guilt, grief, for whatever horrors he faced before. 

“I didn’t want this. Not for Tess and sure as hell not for you.”

“I told you,” you bit. “I told you not to say her name.”

“I made a promise to her a long time ago.” He continued as though you hadn’t spoken, his brown eyes pleading. “I promised that if something happened to her, I would always protect you. That’s what I did today. I was honouring that promise, and honouring your sister. If you need someone to blame, someone to hate, if that makes it easier, go ahead. But don’t think for a second that this was a choice I wanted to make. I cared about her. I care about you. And even if I have to drag you kickin’ and screamin’, I’m getting you to Wyoming, to Tommy. You and I still have a job to do.” Slowly, as though unsure how you’ll react, he tucks your hair behind your ear. “That kid needs us, but we need her a hell of a lot more if the cure is real. And I… I need you. I need you here with me, safe. I ain’t losing another…”

He bows his head, words thickening.  “I ain’t going back on my promise to Tess, so you can make it difficult as you like. You can never lay your damn eyes on me again. But I’m getting you through this.”

A tear drips down your cheek, your entire body trembling as the sorrow, the grief, finally takes over. 

“Oh, baby,” Joel whispers, voice full of the same loss, the same pain. 

A whimper escapes you as you put your head in your hands. You can’t even hate him now, because you can imagine your martyr of a sister asking Joel to do just that. To protect you above all else. Still, you despise it — despise that your choices were taken away, your voice ignored. 

“I should have been with her,” you say. “She shouldn’t have died alone.”

“She died knowing you were being taken care of.” He squeezes your knee with rough hands. “She died knowing she saved us. It’s the best anyone could’a done. I wish it could have been different.”

“I don’t know how to do this without her,” you admit, because how can you keep it all in? All the love you had for her, all that grief… where will you put it when it’s spilling out of you without warning? 

“That’s something we’ll figure out,” Joel responds. He’s drawing circles into your lower thigh now, the pad of his thumb wearing down your denim jeans slowly. Wearing you down slowly. “You should take a shower then see about finishing your food. That hot water… it’ll help. And I won’t be mad if you use it all before I get my turn.” He offers you a small smile.

But you can’t imagine anything ever helping. You close your eyes, sinking back into the couch. “In a minute. I just need…” You don’t know what you need. If you’re being honest, you need Tess. 

As though knowing it, Joel rises, the couch cushions dipping with his weight beside you. He lets out a soft sigh, fidgeting with his fingers. You feel the weight of his gaze on the side of your face. 

A moment later, he’s draping a blanket over you, and your lids flutter open again in confusion. 

“S’okay,” Joel says. “Get some rest. I’ll wake you when it’s time to go.”

You don’t need to be told twice. But when you try to nod off, you only see Tess burned on the inside of your eyelids. Her face the last time you saw it. The bite. Her pleas for you to go.

You give up quickly, aware Joel is still beside you, unmoving. It isn’t like him to not be moving. 

Rubbing your face, you sit up, pushing the blanket off. “Joel…”

“Hmm?”

“Blaming you... it doesn't make it fucking easier. I understand why you did what you did, even if I don’t like it. But if you ever take away my choice again… I won’t go on with you. I can’t. I know you and Tess still see me… saw me,” you correct with a wince, “as a kid, but I’m not. Not anymore. And I sure as hell ain’t your responsibility.”

“I don’t see you as a kid,” he says quietly. “And I don’t see you as my responsibility, either. Honestly?” He purses his lips, tapping on the arm of the couch before he continues, “I see you as the only damn thing worth going out of my way to protect. Make of that what you will. Just… don’t expect me to let you die if that’s your choice. I can’t do that. I won’t do that. I won’t apologise for it, either.”

You’re not sure what to say to that; what it means. Why Joel, of all people, is the one to say it. You always thought he and Tess… 

“Why? That promise mean so fucking much?”

“Yeah." He looks at you as though for the first time. "Yeah, it does."

You don’t have the energy to wonder what it means anymore. Instead, you pull yourself up on unsteady feet. Your mind is racing, and that shower is sounding better as reality sets in. Just in time, Ellie returns with damp hair and fresh clothes. She offers a small, reassuring smile, and you ruffle her hair, feeling guilty that a fourteen-year-old was subjected to everything you went through in Boston. Whoever she is, whatever purpose people want her to serve… she’s just a kid, and you couldn’t hold it together for her today. That makes you a shitty chaperone.

“My turn,” you mumble, glancing at Joel a final, wary time before heading upstairs. His expression doesn’t change, but you see something new in it now. Something strange. 

Something that looks an awful lot like care.

[youronlydarlin]

Okay…maybe could you do something like Simon fucking you to the summoning by sleep token…literal baby making song??? 🥹

AHHHHHHH NONIE YOU GET ME YOU GET MEEE

You are SO right about it being baby making music, because Simon fucks your guts so deep like he's trying to put something in there.

It's pitch black in the room. Utter darkness enveloping you both. You can't see anything, as if you're trapped in a neverending night. Relying solely on the goosebumps forming on your skin to know where he's touching.

Your lack of vision heightening your reflexes. And you twitch and tremble like a small defenseless bunny caught in the jaws of a metal trap.

His fingers easily cage around your neck, avoiding your windpipe but cutting off enough oxygen to make blood rush into your head and leave you panting like a dumb mutt. Successfully making you addicted to the feeling.

He easily pins your torso to the bed just like that. While your lower half doesn't even touch the sheets. No, it's wrapped around his toned waist, the position makes it so that he's towering over you. On his knees, and downwards angle he's fucking you in makes it feel like he's hitting deeper and deeper with each push inside.

Simon is a dirty, dirty, man. Having you practically screaming on his cock isn't enough. He wants you drunk on it. Like you won't survive without it.

Two speakers loudly play the song, and he's leaning down to whisper the lyrics into your ear.

"You've got my body, flesh and bone, yeah The sky above, the Earth below.."

And all of a sudden you're throwing your head back. Curling your toes and cumming your brains out. He laughs at you, to think that was all it took to ruin you. But, he has to admit, it ruined him too.

Cause fuck. Now you're throbbing so much and he's pulsing your walls actively milking him fir all he's worth.

The song continues on, and he fucks you through the chorus, then the instrumental. Until he's reaching his favorite part. But despite feeling like being in the brink of unconsciousness you could proudly say that it's your favorite too.

Heavy sounding beats blasts through the speaker as if they're begging to be let out. Simon mouths the lyrics and sings along, you silently mull over how the darkness prevents you from seeing it. But his hypnotic voice is quick to keep all the thoughts away that aren't about him.

"Oh, and my love

Did I mistake you for a sign from God?

Or are you really here to cut me off?

Or maybe just to turn me on

'Cause these days

I would be lying if I told you that

didn't wish that I could be your man

Or maybe make a good girl bad..."

Simon accentuates every word with heavy thrusts while he times the movement of his hips to the rhythm. Your eyes roll back. Subconsciously preparing yourself for the second of many more rounds to come.

a/n: I BEG OF YOU. LISTEN TO THE SONG. IT'S SO MUCH BETTER WHEN YOU KNOW HOW IT GOES. I actually had to listen to it for this, mainly because I only know it through, my love astarion. Thank you for this btw, love. Really inspired me. M' also sorry that I only got to post once. I took the time out of a busy day to hang out with my sister. I hope you liked this, hun!

Yours, truly,

–dolly

[vickyyoon]

Professor!hyunjin

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Genre: smut

Paring : professor!hyunjin x fem!reader

C/w: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, reader is a student, fingering, kind of exhibitionism, nipple play, mentions of getting reader pregnant etc.

Synopsis : after failing his subject, your mother puts you up for extra private sessions with your professor which goes right and wrong...

It's a bit long 😅....

Anyways (pt-2) <- is here

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Professor hyunjin, he was your litterature teacher and everything that fell out of his mouth was purely majestic, he was the best looking professor out of the whole university maybe even in the world.

Not even younger boys could come close to look this great as him, words aren't enough to describe how beautiful he was, he was literally sculpted by the gods in shorter terms.

His voice was soothing, his eyes held pure emotions, his plump pink lips were soft, his hair was was softer, his nose was perfect, his veins often bulged out of his sculpted arms, his fingers were long and tainted and his body was indescribable.

Everyday when he took your classes and assessment you would spend half of it staring at him, every girl did, who wouldn't but you knew there was no chance to stand out and catch his attention.

You were not that good in his subjects either, it was the day your mum came to see your result and found out you almost failed such an easy subject.

It was just literature , what was so distracting? What was so hard? Little did she know it was your professor himself.

One day she called you and informed you that she personally called your professor to give your private extra lessons. Your heart dropped.

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

There you were all dressed up waiting at his office with perfume wrapping your body,.he said he would be free at his office around 8:00pm.

The office was sound proof unlike other offices and it smelled like it was newly installed, the windows were dark tainted and covered with blinds, his floor was a grey funny carpet over the wooden tiled floor, his desk was neat. Almost like he was waiting fir you to arrive.

The door creeked open and your professor came inside, he was wearing his black shirt tucked in his waist hight pants, it wrapped around his body, especially at the waist making it look so small

" Y/n right? From my class, so what's bothering you during my lessons? I thought I clearly explained everything in detail, everyone seems to get a pass."

You were clearly embarrassed, you couldn't tell him what was really the problem, never!

" you don't know? Ok then, why don't you write me a simple minimum 100 word paragraph on yourself under 25 minutes? It's not that hard."

You were sure you could do that but when he sat I front of you, you got distracted again, you were thinking of glancing at him and wasted half of your time, in the end you wrote a paragraph about yourself with just around 45 words with rigged sentences.

" seems like you're really getting distracted, you're English seems to be perfect, how can you fail this? I guess I have to step up my game, stand up and write me another essay about your favorite subject, minimum 100 words again but under 35 minutes."

.

Now you were bending over with a pen and and a piece of paper, brainstorming about your favorite subject when maybe, just maybe you thought you caught him staring at your cleavage on the tight black dress you wore specially for today.

" we're you planning to go out?"

" I was until I remembered mom set me up for this and I had to run here."

You just couldn't get the thought of him fucking you dumb over his desk out of your head. You ended up writing 56 words under 35 minutes.

" not much improvement, I need to think of something that'll finally steer you right, I think I'm the problem, why don't I stand behind you and observe you from there while you write me another 100 word paragraph on how you're feeling about being here. This time you can waste however long you want but you must complete it. "

" H-how I'm feeling?"

He nodded as he stood up to go behind you. Whatever he just said was too oddly specific, it kind of scared you now but. Atleast he wasn't gonna be in front of you.

.

While you were writing away, he stared at your arched back, how you were bending over standing over his desk to write the paragraph, the shortness of the dress almost flashed him with your underwear, he was trying hard to get a peak. His intentions weren't any different.

A few moments later you could feel warmth on your thighs, he was extremely close to you, he was even leaning on you, pushing your hair over your shoulder to see what progress you were making.

Then you felt his hand gently lifting the hem of your dress, it didn't take you too long to understand what he was trying to do. He leaned in more his cheek was right next to yours, the contact of his skin on yours send shivers down your spine.

Yet still you didn't budge, acting like you were too focused to notice what he was doing but you were soaking wet down there, his hand traveled up your thigh to your ass, gently squeezing it before pulling your panty down.

You looked at him concerned, " get back to writing, write about what you're going to feel now. I know you want it badly." he whispered against your ear

His fingers gathered your slick and he stuck two digits up your cunt and you clenched around them. You gasped, your hand was shaking with the pen on on your hand as you struggled to write or think about anything other than him.

He pumped his fingers in and out slowly, making sure to find your good spots and having you tremble under his touch.

" will you let me fuck you dumb in this little dress?" his breath brushed against your cheeks as your turned red. You only nodded desparately.

You could hear the sound of his belt falling into the floor, along with his boxers and jeans, you peeped back to look at it.

Gosh it was gorgeous, it was huge and the tip was flush pink leaking precum.

He asked you to spit in his hand and used it as lubricant, he placed himself between your legs, slowly entering.

" you won't get to cum until you properly end that paragraph I told you to write. And if it's great, maybe I'll even fuck my cum in you." he made a deal with you as you frantically write away until he started to penetrate.

He was shaking you, ruining the balance of your pen and paper, you couldn't think anymore other than the thought of how good it felt having him inside.

" you thought It was gonna be easy? Pfft. Let's see if you can even get past 20 words now."

Soft and low grunts escaped past his lips, and you couldn't help but clech every thrust because he hits that spot too well. This was so hard for you to even focus, you were moments away from cumming.

" w-what if I cum without a warning? I've never done this. "

" you'll have to because you don't wanna face the consequences."

Shit he sounded like he meant every word he said, he does give out the cruealest punishments how we're you gonna pass.

" then Pl-please go slow."

" Do you think slowing down will help you? It's just gonna be more worse."

You only realized what he said when he slowed down the agonizing pace was burning your walls, it was even harder for you to focus and you can't even ask for more.

You wrote about what just happened right now you what you plan to do to end this session, heck you even wrote about why you get so distracted and how much you fantasized having him inside. It was like a dream come true for you.

After finishing he checks it out, it felt like the best platonic confession he's ever read, he loved it.

" Princess, you just wrote the best paragraph I've ever read, do you know what that means?"

" y-you get to fuck your cum in me and let me cum too."

He made you sit in his desk spreading your legs your moping cunt begging to be filled up again, since he was pretty tall and the desk was short the edge was around his mid thighs, it wasn't too hard for him to push through

" did I tell you how good you feel? I've been waiting for ir this day for months, got my sound proof walls prepared for this."

That statement shocked you, it was quiet weird as well.

' F-for me? Not anyone else?"you asked as he pushed himself back in with ease,

" Who else? Don't you see the way I always try to sum up your grades, you're my favorite student even if you almost failed, I gave you so many passes, don't you see how much I want you? How much I do for you without you asking for it."

Slowly he thrusted again, you never thought he had feelings for you, you thought he was just too horny at this time of the night and did this just to please his needs. It was very disturbing but at this point you were flustered, your fucked out face turning even redder if possible, staring at his sweat covered face.

" Why don't you take this off so I can see those pretty little tits of yours?" you still had the dress on, he lifted the dress off of you and threw it on the floor.

He then unclipped your bra, latching his lips around your hard nipple while kneading the other, the sensitivity made you whimper as he sucked on them.

" Maybe I'll fuck a baby into you and you'll lactate when I try these out again." he had no mercy on you, shamelessly melting your brain with words you never thought he would ever say, even in your deepest fantasies.

As he kept thrusting his lips marked your chest and neck, if anyone saw you, they would definitely call you a big slut.

" gosh you feel much better than I thought," he groaned against your skin. At this point you couldn't help but moan put loud, thank god he installed those sound proof walls or else the entire department could hear the sinful sound leaving your mouth as he fucked you.

" see, you can actually write a paragraph, it took you only 25 minutes to end that with 110 words. Maybe I should do this more often."

You had to close that paragraph. Or else you wouldnt last any longer. There you were cumming so hard on your professor's dick, you've never came this hard, not even those young ripped jocks in your class could coax this orgasm out of you. You almost knocked yourself out.

And seconds later he came crashing so hard, it was leaking out of your hole while he was still inside, there was no way you didn't get pregnant after that.

" see this what good girls get, if you keep being this good I'll give you whatever you want."

.

You washed up in his office bathroom when you notice one of your inner garment was missing, mainly your underwear, you leave the bathroom to find it peeking out of his pant's pocket, you smiled to yourself

He was as freaky just as how much handsome he was.

You left his office without saying anything about the underwear, he could keep it as a souvenir to remember what he did tonight.

12:56 am

[pwippy]

hi. hello. did you think my frame by frame analysis of round 6 would ever stop? it isnt it never will i keep noticing things and it might be unhealthy

somehow i tuned out tills expressions during the kiss scene ! guess we're going for those (this is an unnecessarily long undetailed yapping session so. mega warning)

shock to realization when hes being pulled in

more realization and confusion! actually a lot of these scenes include his pupils getting smaller. having a lot of revelations. emotions etc

fun game: tell the difference. thats right its the eyebrows! and eyebags. concern has set in and the fight or flight response which is technically good because it means he wants to live

his expression doesnt shift for a few frames but the main thing is (as previously mentioned) that he has a will to live again. he has light in his eyes. yeah hes confused and for the next few frames its the same expression but from different angles. a little ragdolly but also ivan has much more physical strength

right before he pushes away from ivan his focus actually shifts to him. when ivan first came over its more like till was staring into the unknown but now hes lucid and focusing on whats happening

also! a little fear? not sure its only like 3 frames

force

i dont think thats a tear since they have a specific texture. desperately hoping for his pov of round 6 at some point 🙏 wont say too much abt this but its really interesting! and really sad to see because of his blatant distress

that one line . argh. thats anger! the furrowed brows !

anger goes away in 2 frames. owh these frames. are so painful. ivan pulls back and just. looks at till. theyre looking at each other. to some extent THERE IS UNDERSTANDING. but its fleeting. (alsocan we talk about ivan trailing his finger over tills lips ohmygod. topography map which ivan has memorized literally on his hand. ow. divets.)

sighs sadly. this is when actual concern sets in for till and i. oh. only comment ill make is that compared to the kissing scene he is significantly more stressed based on the wrinkles and the situation in general. the kiss was more like that blurry line of consciousness when you wake up.

hes looking at ivan 🤗 (losing my mind)

i dont think you understand my hatred of this ! hes straight back into "oh im destined to die" mode! his face was relaxing !!!!

sobs in ivan tried to keep his hands stable so till wouldnt get jostled WHILE IVANS LITERALLY DYING

doubts maybe?? i dont think ivan was trying to strangle him like even if you give in to what you think is "fate" physically your body will retaliate against death or stress. hes not hacking or coughing or anything he is genuinely staring into the void. probably feeling guilty so

i wouldnt say hes confused here. at least not yet. its more of an "oh." expression. an emotional thud

he whipped his head down to look at ivan really quick!! anyways i imagine hes surprised he didnt die on stage. surprised he was let go (when usually hes doing the letting go ahahaha). he doesnt take his eyes off ivan the whole time ivans falling :')

also confusion. all confusion

i sure wish i could see his eyebrows to properly analyze him but I GUESS NOT. for at least half of the round till was mourning his own death (and mizis presumed death ig). he knew it would be quick. he didnt know ivan would step in and kiss him which just brings up a ton of "why nows" and "why mes" but also that he might be strangled. slowly. to death. then that doesnt go through either and now hes left to mourn his childhood companion

anyways thought this was interesting to pull out since till has a lot of subtle differences in his expressions but they mean EVERYTHING. its also an odd contrast to ivan who (at least until the end) stays nonchalant. he eyes barely shift and when he gets shot his flinching is there for literal milliseconds. both went into round 6 believing they would die and they both technically forfeited (with till not singing anymore). till *technically* went first. aha guess what ivans going to pull an aggressive move. that you couldnt have expected because honestly a) who could have expected that and b) till didnt go out of his way to pay attention to ivan. he took the interactions and moved on. he had a lower understanding compared to ivan who constantly analyzed till

[writtenjewels]

One Bed night 3

Night One, Night Two

This time, it was Salim who woke first. He found Jason asleep, his fingers having loosened their grip on Salim's shirt, his head tilted toward Salim's fingers. Salim's heart beat a little faster noticing their closeness. Warmth swelled deep in his body. His eyes flicked to the freckles scattered on Jason's cheeks. His fingers twitched as he fought the impulse to touch—hair, cheek, hand, anywhere. Salim let out a breath and pulled away. He would claim the first shower this morning and be rid of the bulge pressing against his crotch.

Salim felt much calmer when he exited the bathroom. He found Jason awake and waiting his turn. The young marine's half-asleep expression shifted to something more alert. Salim suddenly wished he hadn't chosen to walk out of the bathroom in just his underwear. He didn't give his middle-aged, hairy body much thought, but after seeing the more lean and hairless Jason, he couldn't help the sudden attack of self-consciousness.

“Mornin',” Jason drawled. “You wanna head to breakfast together?”

“Sure,” Salim agreed. He padded over to get dressed while Jason showered. He wished there could be some balance between how casual and easy it could feel between them, and how tense and awkward.

They spent the day on tours again, only they experienced all the tours together. Salim had discovered yesterday that touring was a lot like how Jason described drinking: not as fun alone. Besides that, Jason usually whispered a funny remark during the tours. It added a bit of playful energy to everywhere they went. They ate lunch and dinner together, chatting and teasing each other the whole time.

After dinner, they strolled past shops. Now and then they paused to look at what was in the display windows before moving on. They eventually found their way to a bar. Salim remembered suggesting they have drinks tonight. He wasn't surprised Jason was going to make him see that promise through.

Inside, the atmosphere was a little loud with televisions going. Salim pointed to a table away from all the noise.

“You sure you're okay with this?” Jason asked once they sat. “It ain't haram or whatever?” Salim's eyebrows shot up; he had talked about halal and haram with Jason over breakfast, but didn't expect the man to remember.

“I think Allah will forgive me having one drink with a friend,” he responded. “What game is that?” He nodded to the televisions meaningfully.

“Basketball,” Jason told him after a quick glance. “It' ain't really my thing.”

“Yes, I remember. Something about a Super Bowl?” Salim smiled at the memory. He, of course, hadn't understood a word Jason said at the time. It sounded good, and Jason seemed so pleased, so the gleeful energy had rubbed off. Jason met his smile; the gleam in his eyes assured he was remembering, too.

A waiter came by and took their very simple order of two beers. They were given bottles within minutes.

“Cheers.” Jason lifted his bottle.

“Cheers,” Salim echoed, and they tapped before taking a swallow. Salim tried not to immediately cough his out. “Ugh, it's been a very long time since I drank.”

“No hoppin' through single bars, huh?” Jason teased.

“I don't think we have those in my town. I wasn't ready to find out.” Salim took another small sip. Jason mimicked him and the two fell silent, listening to the game and the chatter around them. “So, did you, ah... hop single bars?” Salim asked after a moment.

“Nope.” Jason shifted a little on his seat. His eyes flicked briefly to Salim, then dropped to the table. “Weren't any I liked.”

“Do you like this one?”

Jason's eyes flicked up again and he shrugged. “So far.”

Eventually the conversation moved on to other things. They finished their beers and spent a few minutes watching the game. Or rather, Salim stared at the screen listening to Jason explain what was happening. It might not have been his thing, but he still understood it far better than Salim.

They made it back to their room, where Jason went to the bathroom first to brush his teeth while Salim got undressed. An unexpected heaviness weighed down when he thought of them only spending one more night together. The experience was so much better than he could have anticipated.

“Hey.” Jason's head poked out of the bathroom. “You gonna wear one of those dumb pun shirts?”

“I thought you liked my pun shirts,” Salim retorted, turning to face the younger man. He was much less conscious of his bare chest than this morning.

“I do.” Jason flashed a smile. “It's why I asked.”

“Which one's your favorite?” Jason took a moment to answer. Salim found his eyes gravitating to the dog-tags resting against Jason's bare skin.

“The omelette.” Jason's answer snapped Salim out of his daze.

They switched so Salim could use the bathroom. He stepped out and found Jason already under the sheets. Something about that made Salim feel warm all over. He went over to check the air conditioning to make sure the settings were okay. They looked fine, so he went around to his side of the bed and got in.

“Nice shirt,” Jason noted.

“You said you liked it,” Salim reminded him. Jason just smiled. That air conditioning couldn't be working, because Salim was still warm. “That ball game was interesting,” Salim spoke up. “I didn't think American balls were round.”

“You see many American balls?” Jason asked. The way he dipped his voice sounded almost suggestive.

“There's what you call a football,” Salim pointed out. “It's not round.”

“I don't think you can judge our balls from just one.” There was that tone in Jason's voice again.

“I feel like you're messing with me, but I can't figure out how.”

“Give it time.” Jason looked like he was fighting not to laugh. “It'll come to ya.” Salim frowned at him while Jason kept grinning. There was a playful brightness in his eyes that Salim recognized from the other times he teased Salim.

Salim ran through their conversation in his head again. Oh. His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. Jason snickered.

“That,” Salim declared, “was an awful joke.” He pointed to the words on his shirt. “Omelette that slide.” Jason laughed, leaning forward just enough to let his tags dangle in the space between them.

“You always been such a dork?”

“Probably.” Salim reached out to catch the tags between his fingers. “But I think you like it.”

“Probably,” Jason nodded. They sat there for a few heartbeats. There was a charged energy in the space. Salim broke it by releasing the tags. He reclined on the mattress, Jason following a moment later. The silence continued stretching on. Salim knew Jason had to be hearing his thoughts, but the marine didn't say so.

After a while Jason wiggled a bit and propped his arm on the pillow just above Salim's head. His fingertips lightly brushed against Salim's hair. Salim swallowed; he had unconsciously done the same last night. He closed his eyes and let himself feel it all.

[clayderogatory]

okay let me just say i am a big music nerd and also a big resident evil nerd. put two and two together, and now you have this. greetings and salutations everyone and today i am going to analyze and discuss the 4 major boss themes in resident evil 4 remake and my interpretations of each one.

note that i am no big music theory major, but i know way too much about resident evil and i know how music can influence how someone can feel and how it can relate to the characters they are for.

the bosses i am going to be talking about are as follows:

Bitores Méndez, Ramón Salazar, Krauser, and Osmund Saddler.

they will go in order right under the cut!! i hope u enjoy because this actually took hours to write im not even kidding.

Bitores Méndez:

Starting off with Méndez, his boss theme is very very different from the OG. What the Remake has, I believe it further demonstrates and shows to the player through music more insight on how he is presented in the game.

In the original, his theme is really just...eerie. It's unsettling, with much of it being very high pitched and almost just screaming in your ear. Some really other good examples of this are like—for instance—the very end of the Undertale Genocide route or like Something in Omori. It's made to be unnerving, like something is incredibly wrong in the situation you are in. But for Méndez's theme in the OG, it's really as far as it goes. It's just high pitched noises with creepy sound effects, almost like something is chasing you. There's even remnants of someone screaming in the background if you listen super closely.

The thing I love with the Remake is that they added so much more to this theme. Firstly, they kept that eerie high pitched noise that was primarily in the OG's soundtrack, in the background. That feeling and that aspect is still there in the song, but they added more instruments so that it was definitely more of a boss theme. There's drums, violins, tubas, etc. Those were at least the main ones I heard upon inspection.

Méndez is supposed to be the first big bad in re4r, he's kind of like the strong and seemingly invincible character for a good long while. He doesn't talk much, he's just there to follow Saddler's orders and to carry out his will. You have to try to avoid him in many cases because you can't get past him, but now you're in a situation where you have no other choice but to fight him. The music really amplifies this because it really conveys that feeling that he's like a mindless soldier. He's extremely intimidating, a lot of the music feels like it isn't leading up to this big finale or any sort of release. It's meant to build up tension or suspense, and it isn't much of a build up.

Méndez is there for the purpose to kill, with Las Plagas infecting his mind so badly he doesn't even have thoughts of his own anymore. That's only the first half of the song, because the second does get interesting.

It turns very fast paced and hurried. Like a cat and mouse chase, there's even an added primarily male choir in there to further add to the eerie feeling. It gets a lot more intense, because further in the fight, Leon is doing more to injure Méndez and that tension is finally rising to where it's a much more intense battle because Méndez had mutated a second time and now they are at each other's throats and the heat of battle and the burning building is probably getting to the both of them. And the tension is rising, rising, the music gets louder and its crescendoing more and more and then, it goes quiet.

it's not a big flashy ending, it just fades out to quietness. all of it is over, you can take a break and let what just happened sink in. it's so much more interesting and i do love they incorporated the same eerie noises from the OG into the remake's.

----

Ramón Salazar:

Up next we have Ramòn Salazar, and his remake theme is one of my favorites in the whole game. But starting with the OG, it lays a pretty decent foundation. There's that eerieness to it in the first, but then it grows a bit bigger. It primarily has a lot of organ parts to it. Plainly stating, Ramòn is from Royalty, he lives in a castle and had people do his bidding and such. His official title is of a Castilian.

He is also very weak compared to everyone else, and he hides behind the stronger ones with his rank and title. Organs are very primarily used in settings of where we are now, a very gothic style castle where before Los Illuminados came, everyone there was very Catholic. Which in other cases, they can be heard in churches as well. They're typically seen as very creepy instruments that unnerve many people. There's also usage of violins and a choir, which give this feeling of almost like a Haunted Mansion like sound as if there were ghosts taunting you.

Interestingly enough, there's also some more modern hints in the song with a faint electric bass in there. It's also a little waltzy, like it has elements where you could kinda dance to it. It has a similar tension where it rises and rises and then goes quiet again.

But what I really want to get to now is his remake theme, holy shit it is so so SO amazing. Ramòn in remake is very vastly different from OG, he has that same element of being weak and using his authority to always have a higher ground, but he isn't nearly as cowardly. He has a way more sadistic mind to him, and even in records found in the game, he was described to be this nasty little guy who reveled in seeing people suffer.

he also presents the whole section as like a story or a play. He calls Leon a "gallant knight" and Ashley the "princess fair." He's over dramatic, and he sees himself as a higher being than the others. Except for Saddler, because he worships the man—like everyone else.

Already within the theme we are starting off BIG, it's loud, dramatic, very fitting to how he sees everything as a show, a drama even. We get a lot of build up within the first 35 seconds or so. They utilize a lot of choir parts within this, mainly SSA (sopranos and altos) to make it very high pitched and giving that eerie vibe again. The title of the song comes into play too, "Baile de la Muerte," or as translated, The Dance of Death. Already off the bat it sounds as dramatic as the music is, and because the song is very much a waltz.

It's also something to note that Ramón moves around a LOT in this fight, similar to how you move in a dance. But he looks a lot more like a horrifyingly mutilated bug so it's more annoying than anything.

String instruments are HUGE in this song, and especially that choir part mentioned earlier coming in really heavy towards the middle. There is some more SATB (soprano, alto, tenor, bass) at this part compared to the beginning. There's already so much tension because the song starts big and keeps. getting. BIGGER. towards the end the choir part keeps striking with more and more tension, its keeps building and building, and then HUGGEEE beat drop where there is just this beautiful and amazing finale that is just so so SO dramatic and theatrical. it's like the big end to a show, the strings are fast and furious as the drums are striking and LOUD, and what i believe to be brass instruments just killing it. and the final note ends on a high ass note for the choir and all the instruments coming together to deliver the end of this AMAZING track.

its a dramatic piece for an equally theatrical and dramatic character, and it leaves with this satisfying finish before ending and letting it all settle again.

---

Jack Krauser:

Now with Krauser's theme, it is my favorite in the whole game. I could loop it for hours because it's so catchy and it even ties back to previous lore with his character. Firstly to compare to the OG, the OG and remake are already extremely similar.

It's very strong and heavy, like how Krauser is. It's also very dramatic and one big thing to notice is that there is this kind of very fast drum that is prominent. It's kind of something that you would hear in a theme pertaining to jungles and whatnot, which IS important. I'll get to that in a moment, but, it's a very fast paced song. It does have that tension because Leon is facing a formidable for that he used to know. There's a lot of build ups ready for a beat drop that just adds so much to the intensity. There's not much to say because the melody and sound for this song is pretty much the same as remake, but obviously they expanded on it.

what i really want to get to is remake, because they utilize SO many elements in this to make it really powerful and to support Krauser's character. First and foremost, Krauser and Leon's relationship in remake is different than OG. In OG they were more "comrades" who fought with one another in the military, but in remake, Krauser and Leon, have this relationship where he was his mentor. They both know the same combat skills, it just comes down to who can apply them better in their fight. That's what makes Krauser so terrifying, because he knows everything Leon knows to a higher degree.

As well as that jungle aspect maybe coming from Darkside Chronicles that expanded on Leon and Krauser and Operation Javier. I thought that was a neat touch to add with the music as well, but anyways, this piece is powerful with the primarily male choirs, harmonies, and so. much. buildup. it's leading up to something so much bigger with it's fast paced structure. there's a lot of heavy drums that are just going and going, and it eventually leads to this HUGE beatdrop that really makes it feel more like a final battle. Leon is facing someone that was close to him, even if he was a huge asshole, he was Leon's mentor and taught him everything he knew.

it's so heavily dramatic because the stakes are high, Leon has to get to Ashley before it's too late and try not to get killed by his teacher. It repeats until at the end It leads up and up until it goes to this somber music. Leon has to kill someone he did care about. He proved himself worthy and now has to take the final blow, all while trying not to cry because he was forced into doing it. It leads up to this big big tense feeling until he strikes the blow and it's over.

"I taught you well, Leon."

"That you did, Major, that you did."

---

Osmund Saddler:

With Saddler, it's, again, similar to the OG and to be frank, I'm just gonna talk about the remake. Saddler is so interesting because the whole game has been leading up to him. He's a mystery, he is the leader of Los Illuminados, the one with all the control over everyone in the hivemind. With his theme, they really use a lot of the choir instead of the instruments taking over.

The reason due to this is probably all of the religious themes within Saddler and how he is literally a cult leader. within churches, there are usually church choirs that sing which is probably why it's very abundant in the theme. The music is matching with the choir a lot, and a lot of drums are used in this piece. Compared to some others, there are a lot of flowy parts to the song and also some very staccato moments where it's very on the dot. Especially in the middle where it's very big and intense.

This is a serious battle, Leon has to kill Saddler to get rid of Los Illuminados, and it isn't an easy task. They really keep that feeling of it being such a tough fight and that it is menacing, Saddler is not just a pushover. He wants to spread his cult across the world and he will stop at nothing to try and achieve that. It mainly repeats a lot due to it obviously being a boss theme and it will repeat until you kill the boss, but the ending is so interesting as it goes from this very flowy and moving section, and then it goes down, and then ends abruptly with even a hint of organ snuck in there.

Saddler is posed as a threat, on or off screen, and his theme definitely delivers on that as well.

---

and that is a wrap! if you made it to the end, you get a cookie 🍪

and if anyone wants to discuss anything more, feel free! these are my thoughts and ideas of all of these themes and how they relate to all of the characters they are for :)

[rocknroll7575]

Knight of Olympus: Titans Lullaby - Ch.1: Like a Shooting Star

Summary: Jaune Arc fell, however, instead of landing on the beach of the Ever-After, he lands on the beach of Camp Halfblood. It seems like Jaune's life, is truly a Greek tragedy.

XXX

XXX

XXX

XXX

Percy Jackson has had a very long summer, what with the Sea of Monsters as well as the fact that Thalia was back and alive.

Annabeth was happy and Grover was too, and Percy couldn't be more happy fir both of them, as he was sure it was a relief to have her back, however, once she fully regained consciousness, they did have to inform her about the whole... Luke's situation, which he could tell, struck her hard.

Even worse, both he and Thalia would have to stay at Camp for the rest of the summer, or else Luke and the Demi-Gods with him, plus the other monsters, would target them.

But enough about the bad news, some good news was that Tyson had gone down to his dad's domain to work for him there, which Percy was happy to hear, he hoped that he would have a good time, but Percy still felt a little saddened by his departure, but he was sure he'd see Tyson again.

Next to that, everything was working out, and while they still had Luke and Cronus to worry about, Percy was taking a break after a long adventure, now sitting on the beach and looking up at the stars.

"There you are, Percy,"

Percy's head turned around, only to see Annabeth standing behind him. He smiled at her before responding, "Hey, Annabeth" he greeted.

Annabeth walked over and sat down next to him, "What are you doing out here?" She asked.

Percy looked back up to the sky, "Just relaxing," He replied, "definitely need it after everything recently," He told her.

Annabeth nodded in agreement, "I feel you there," she replied with a long sigh

Percy looked at her with a raised brow, "Thalia, how's she doing?" He asked.

"So far, she's doing good, Grover and I had to fill her in on everything she's missed, but she's taking it all pretty well... for the most part," She replied.

"Luke?"

Annabeth nodded.

Percy let out a sigh, knowing a little how Thalia had felt. He had trusted Luke a long time ago, he was a mentor to Percy when he first came to Camp Half-Blood, but after everything he did with Thalia's tree and in the Sea of Monsters, Percy would not forgive him. Percy then quickly put those thoughts aside and looked back to the starry sky, and when he did, he noticed something that was not normal. It looked like a shooting star and appeared as if it was coming closer to them. Percy nudged Annabeth and pointed at the object flying toward them. Both quickly stood up, ready to run should it hit the beach, however, while the object was getting closer, it was not going to hit the beach but instead struck the sea.

"What was that!?" Annabeth asked.

"How am I supposed to know that!? Wouldn't you know!?" Percy asked.

Annabeth looked at him with a raised brow, "Why would I know!?" Annabeth asked.

"You the Daughter of Athena if I recall!" Percy replied.

Annabeth groaned, "Whatever! Look, just go check what it is!"

"Why me!?"

"You're the only one who can technically breathe underwater!"

"Fine!"

Percy ran into the water, but as always, he didn't get wet, as a bubble of air surrounded him and he moved toward where he was sure the object fell into the water. Annabeth watched as Percy was fully submerged under the ocean. Annabeth waited with anxiety, wondering what had fallen into the ocean and hoping she had not just sent Percy to his doom.

After a few minutes, Percy suddenly shot out of the water with someone's arm around the back of his neck, and Percy dragged whoever it was with him.

"Annabeth! Could you help me? Quick!" Percy cried.

Annabeth ran over to the person's other side, put their arm around her neck, and helped Percy drag him back to shore. Once on the beach, they set them down on the sand and turned them over, and that was when they both finally got a good look at the person.

He had short blonde hair that seemed to spike up, and he wore what appeared to be white armor with gold trim, and had navy blue jeans, brown boots, and a red sash wrapped around his waist under a belt.

"Who is he?" Annabeth asked.

Percy shook his head and shrugged, "Don't know, but help me get his armor off, we need to perform-"

The man began to gag and spit up water from his mouth and quickly turned around to spit out more of the water that no doubt filled his lungs and once he was finished, took long and deep breaths.

"Hey! Hey! Are you ok!?" Percy asked as he had his hand on the man's back.

The man didn't answer right away but he turned to Percy with a confused look, "W-Where am I!?" he asked. "Is this Vacuo? No... Vale?"

Percy shook his head, confused about what he was talking about, "No, you're in Long Island," Replied the boy.

The man still seemed confused, "Long Island?" He asked.

Annabeth nodded, "Yeah," she replied, "Do... Do you remember how you got here?" She asked him.

The man seemed to think hard about his answer, "I remember the bridge... I was running to the gate to get to Vacuo before... I fell..." He replied, suddenly it seemed as if he remembered something, "Oh Oum... Penny... I..." he said softly, his voice nearly breaking into a sob.

Annabeth quickly reassured him, "It's alright, everything's fine now," She told him. "Can you tell me your name? Do you remember that?" She asked.

The man slowly nodded, "Yeah... my name is Jaune... Jaune Arc," He replied.

The girl nodded, "Good, good, nice to meet you, Jaune," Annabeth greeted, "My name is Annabeth, and this is Percy," she told him, gesturing to the son of the sea.

Jaune nodded, "Nice to meet you both, but can you please tell me how I got... wherever it is I am now?" He asked, still looking utterly confused.

Percy looked at him, "We saw you fall from the sky and land in the water, you looked like a shooting star, man," Percy told him. "Speaking of that... What... Are you?"

Jaune was confused, "What do you mean?"

"Are you a half-blood?" Annabeth asked.

"A what?" Jaune asked, even more confused.

Both of them exchanged a look and then Annabeth looked back at Jaune, "I think you might wanna come with us back to our camp," She told Jaune, before turning to Percy, "Maybe Chiron or Mr. D will have some answers,"

Percy chuckled, "Chiron, yes, but Mr. D... I don't think he'll care too much," He replied.

Jaune was confused, but he did as the kids said, getting up and following them back to their camp. As they walked, Percy noticed Annabeth taking a few peeks at Jaune here and there, and he was confused as to why she was doing it, but if he had to guess, she was trying to figure out who or what he was, after all, a normal person, even a half-blood, doesn't just fall out of the sky.

Percy was also wondering why he looked almost like a knight, his armor looked way too new, so a time traveler was out of the question, and Percy noticed that Jaune was looking around as if trying to figure out where he was.

Percy decided to try and get as much information out of Jaune as he could, after all, he didn't want to bring in a potentially dangerous person into the camp. "So, you never answered Annabeth's question," Percy said, "Are you a Half-blood?"

Jaune looked at him with a raised brow, "I'd answer if I knew what a Half-Blood was," Jaune replied.

"Half human, half God," Percy told him, "Like me, I'm the son of Posiden, but my mom, was human,"

Jaune seemed to be shocked by this, "Your... Your dad was a god!?" Jaune asked.

Percy nodded, "Yeah, Posiden," Percy told him.

"I... Who?" Jaune asked.

Percy was baffled that Jaune didn't know who his dad was. "You know, Posiden, god of the sea and earthquakes?" Percy said.

Jaune still seemed rather confused, which just made Percy more confused as to how Jaune couldn't know who his dad was, who in their right mind didn't know who the Olympian gods were.

"We're here," Annabeth said.

Percy turned back and saw that they were finally back at the camp, and once they arrived back, they saw a bunch of campers, still up and just training or hanging out, Percy even saw the Stroll brothers planning something, Percy then turned to make sure Jaune was still following behind them, but he saw Jaune appearing to be in shock at what he was seeing.

"What is this place?" Jaune asked.

"Camp Half-Blood, home, and safe haven to all Half-bloods as well as a summer camp for the rest of us who still have family outside," Annabeth told him.

"Ok... gonna have to ask more about that later, but for now, I'll wait," Jaune replied.

After walking through the camp, without Clairesse or her cronies popping up, which Percy thanked the gods for, they arrived at the Big House where Annabeth rushed ahead to see who was inside, and when she entered, she saw Thalia and Chiron in a conversation.

Chiron looked at Annabeth with a raised brow, "Annabeth, what seems to be the matter?

Annabeth looked at the Centaur, "Chiron, we need your help because something strange happened when Percy and I were at the Beach" Annabeth told him.

Chiron looked a little worried, "What happened?" He asked.

"He happened," Came the voice of Percy

They all turned to the doorway where both Percy and Jaune stood, and Jaune simply stood there, eyes wide, no doubt shocked at the appearance of Chiron.

"Who is he?" Chiron asked, his tone laced with worry.

Percy looked at him, "We hoped you would know," He said. "He fell from the sky like a comet!"

Chiron walked over to Jaune and looked at him, examining him for a moment, "What is your name?" he asked.

Jaune was snapped out of his shock as he looked at Chiron, "Uh, Jaune Arc, sir," Jaune said.

"I see... why are you wearing armor?" Chiron asked.

"Well, for protection," Jaune replied.

Chiron sighed with a smile, "Yes, of course, but why are you wearing it? What are you protecting yourself from?" Chiron asked.

Jaune realized what he meant and quickly answered, "Oh, well, from Grimm," He replied

"Grim? Like the brothers Grim?" Annabeth asked with a raised brow.

"Uh... I don't know if I've ever heard them called that..." Jaune replied, referring to his own gods.

However, before more could be said, Mr. D entered the room, a diet coke in his hand and he appeared to be going for the fridge, only to suddenly stop and quickly turn to the group, where his eyes fell on Jaune.

Chiron looked at him, "Ah, Mr. D, we were just-"

However, Mr. held up his hand to silence him as he walked over to Jaune and looked the young man up and down before looking him in the eyes, "Name?" he asked.

"Jaune Arc, and who-?"

"Shush!" Mr. D told him.

Mr. D then proceeded to look him over and then looked at Chiron, "Where'd you find him?" He asked.

"Percy says he fell from the sky," Chiron said.

Mr. D then glanced at Percy and let out a sigh, "Another thing involving you, eh, Peter Johnson?"

Jaune turned to Percy with a raised brow, "I thought your name was Percy?"

"It is!" Percy said with an annoyed groan.

"Whatever," Mr. D said. "Well, he's no half-blood, he's human,"

Chiron looked at him with a raised brow, "But how is that possible?" he asked. "He shouldn't being seeing all of this, much less have passed the barrier if he were human,"

"Because he's not a regular human," Mr. D said. "You're not... from here are you?" Mr. D asked Jaune. "This world, am I right?"

Jaune took a moment to answer but he gave the god of wine a quick nod, "Yeah, wherever "here" is, I'm starting to think so..." Jaune replied.

Mr. D snapped his finger and pointed to the sky as he turned around, "Right!" he said. "Chiron send words to the gods that we've got some big news! Very big news! Gonna have to call an emergency meeting!" He said.

Chiron was confused, "What for?" He asked. "What do you know?"

Mr. D turned around and looked at the Centaur with a smirk, "Because this guest of ours... is not from this world," Mr. D said.

Everyone was confused as to what he was talking about, but Chiron did as Mr. D asked and sent word to the gods about what Mr. D had said and quickly, they all responded quickly and said that the Meeting would happen soon and to bring Jaune to Olympus right away.

Jaune had no idea what was going on, where he was, or who he was going to meet at this "Olympus" but there was one thing Jaune was sure about...

He wasn't on Remnant anymore, and he was sure things were just going to get more complicated... as if they weren't complicated enough.

Jaune's hand touched his side and noticed that Crocea Mors was not strapped to his side, it was gone, yet he could've sworn he had it strapped to his side Jaune looked at Percy, "Hey, Percy, did you see a sword and sheath when you saved me?" he asked.

Percy looked at him and shook his head, "No, why? You had one on you?" Percy asked him.

Jaune nodded, "Yeah," Jaune replied. "But I guess it's gone now," He said.

Percy noticed the sad expression on Jaune's face, "If you want, I can take a look in the area where you fell to see if I can find it, Jaune," Percy replied.

Jaune slowly shook his head, "No, it's alright," Jaune replied. "Let it be lost," Jaune replied.

Jaune didn't want to see that weapon again. But he would... sooner or later.

XXX

XXX

XXX

Jaune, along with Mr. D and Chiron arrived at the Empire State Building, however, Jaune was given some campe attire before arriving, once they got out of the van, and began walking into the lobby, Jaune looked at Chiron, now sitting in his wheelchair.

"So... how is this going to go down?" Jaune asked him.

Chiron looked at him, "Honestly, I don't know, in all my life, such a thing as a man from another world and appearing in ours has never occurred," Chiron said. "But a word of advice, Jaune, be as respectful as you can, the gods are easily angered,"

"Well, not all of us,"

Jaune jumped as he turned to his right only to see a man. The man had a nice bronze tan, a sun tattoo on his left shoulder, and wore a pair of sunglasses obscuring his eyes. He had sandy blonde hair that seemed to glow brightly and wore a sleeveless light grey shirt, faded jean shorts, and a pair of sandals.

Chiron smiled when he saw the man, "Ah, Lord Apollo, a pleasure," he greeted.

Apollo looked at the Centaur with a smirk, "Sup Chiron, been a while, how are my kids doing?"

"All are well, and out of everyone, it seems Will has picked up your knack for healing, he's been reading a lot of books on the subject," Chiron said with a smile.

Apollo smirked, "Kids gonna do wonders that's for sure," Apollo said. He then turned to Jaune with a smirk, "And you must be the man from another world, eh? Nice to meet you, I'm Apollo, God of the Sun," He greeted.

Jaune smiled at him nervously, "A pleasure to meet you, Apollo," Jaune greeted back, "Jaune Arc, Huntsman," Jaune replied with a smile.

Apollo's brow raised, "Huntsmen? That a job title or something?" Apollo asked.

Mr. D suddenly appeared and nodded, "Yes, turns out where he's from, he hunts monsters called Grimm," Mr. D told Apollo.

"Sick!" Apollo said with a smile, "Also, good to see you D!" Apollo said, greeting his half-brother.

Mr. D rolled his eyes, "Yes, wish I could say the same," He replied, "Now then, I think the others are waiting, so let's not keep them waiting or else," Mr. D replied.

Chiron nodded, "Yes, you three should be off, I will wait down here with the Van," Chiron said. "Good luck, Jaune," Chiron told him.

Jaune looked back at him and gave him a quick nod, "Thank you, Chiron,"

With that, the two gods and Huntsmen went inside and made their way to the elevator, Apollo pressed a button and the four went up, and as they did, Jaune couldn't help but feel himself getting more and more nervous. After all, he was in another world and meeting said Gods of this world, who may or may not decide his fate.

Finally, the elevator stopped and when the doors opened, Jaune was in awe at the sight of the throne room, the chairs were massive and so too, were the gods, each dressed up in certain clothing, some looked ancient, others in more modern clothing.

"Seems that Apollo and Dionysus have arrived," Said Posiden.

"Good then," Zeus said, "Then let them take their seats and we can begin," He said.

Apollo and Mr. D grew larger and walked over to their thrones, sitting on them and facing Jaune, who looked up at them with both shock and awe but quickly snapped out of it as he realized the meeting was about to begin.

Zeus looked at the other gods, "We're gathered here today to discuss Jaune Arc, the man from another world, and to assess if he is friend or foe," Zeus said. "First, Jaune Arc, why have you come to our world? What are your intentions?" the king of the Gods asked.

Jaune looked at him and knew that he must be Zeus since he was the first to speak, "I'll be honest, I don't know how I came here, to your world, as for what my intentions are, I don't know that either," Jaune replied.

"You do not know how you arrived in our world?" Hera asked.

Jaune nodded, "Yes," He replied.

To his left, Posiden leaned over and seemed to try to get a closer look at Jaune, "Well, he is indeed human... but there's something different about him,"

"I see it too," Zeus said. "Tell us what that thing that surrounds your body," Zeus said.

Jaune was confused as to what Zeus had meant, but quickly realized what he may have been referring to, "Do you mean my Aura?" Jaune asked.

"Is that what you call it?" Athena asked. "Interesting... what does this Aura do?" She asked.

"It protects me from any physical damage for a while but gets weaker the more I'm hit, but thanks to my Semblance, it allows me to boost it back fully if it gets too low," Jaune replied.

Athena nodded, no doubt finding the power that the young knight possessed interesting, but still looked at Jaune as if analyzing every inch of him, trying to figure out if he was a threat or not, based on the information of his powers.

Hera looked at the young man, and asked another question, "Tell us about your world, Jaune Arc," she told him.

Jaune nodded, and he explained to the Olympians what Remnant was, the dangers of it, what his and his friend's jobs were, and the threat that he and his world faced. After telling them about his world, Jaune noticed that some of the gods were interested in where he came from, but a few, he couldn't get a read on.

However, instead of asking more questions about his world, Zeus decided to continue the questioning of the young knight. "Tell me, Jaune Arc, what do you remember before you arrived in our world?" Zeus asked.

Jaune gulped, feeling terrible talking about it, but he had to tell them, so he began to tell them about the plan he had made back in Atlas, the bridge, Cinder's surprise attack, RWBY's defeat, and then... Penny's death and his part in it. At that point, Jaune was visibly shaken and he felt the words caught in his throat. However, he took a few deep breaths and continued, telling them how he missed the gate and fell, and then how he was saved by Percy and Annabeth.

The gods were indeed intrigued by the blonde story and were each trying to take all the information in, and after a few minutes, Zeus sat forward and looked at his fellow gods.

"I believe it is time to decide on what to do with Jaune Arc," Zeus said.

Hearing that, Jaune felt his heart nearly stop, as his mind raced with a million thoughts on what they could decide. Would they see him as a threat and kill or imprison him? Would they force him to work for them? Would they try and help him find a way back home?

As Jaune's mind was racing with these thoughts, Apollo sat forward and looked at Zeus, "If I may, I'd like to not kill him or imprison him," Apollo said.

Artemis looked at her brother with a raised brow, "Any reason why, dear brother?" she asked.

Apollo looked back at her with a smile, "I don't see him as a threat, and he could be a great asset to the demigods at Camp Halfblood, " Apollo said. "Plus, I like him, and he hasn't wronged us in any way, so why do anything harmful, when he hasn't proved to be a threat?"

Artemis nodded, "I have to agree with you, brother," She said. "I'm with Apollo,"

"I'd have to agree with my nephew and niece, brother," Posiden said as he looked at Zeus, "We can have him teach the children at Camp, this way we can keep an eye on him, and assess if he's a threat or not, should he be a threat, we can easily punish him, but if he shows he is useful, then we shall trust him,"

Zeus seemed to contemplate what he had heard from the Sun god, before addressing the other 11. "I believe Apollo may have the right idea as well as Posiden," He said. "Jaune Arc will serve Camp Halfblood as the new combat instructor, where he will be monitored by Dionysus and Chiron, and also serve gods like the rest of the Demigods to test to see if he is friend or foe... All in favor?" Zeus asked.

Every god raised their hand in agreement.

Zeus gave a quick nod, "Good," He said, then looking down at the mortal man. "You are dismissed, Jaune Arc, you are to return to Camp Halfblood as soon as possible," Zeus ordered. "And remember, we are watching you,"

Jaune nodded and because he didn't know what else to do, he bowed quickly before looking at the gods. "Thank you, and uh... have a good day," Jaune told them before leaving.

The gods themselves also began to disperse and leave the meeting, and Mr. D walked with Jaune back to the elevator, and the god patted him on the back. "Welcome aboard kid, and good luck," Mr. D told him, "You're gonna need it," He said.

Jaune looked at him with a raised brow, but he had a feeling he was right.

As he left, a certain goddess watched him leave as a million thoughts ran through her head, she didn't like unknowns, and Jaune Arc was now the greatest unknown to her as well as the rest of her family, but she wasn't just going to stand by and watch, she would test him and in those tests, analyze him and figure out if he posed a threat to them all.

She wasn't the goddess of wisdom and battle plans for nothing, after all...

XXX

XXX

XXX

How was that for a first chapter eh?

Also just to let you all know, another RWBY character will appear in the future, but it's gonna be someone you're not expecting~!

Also, this takes place the same day as Thalia wakes up at the end of Sea of Monsters.

But what do you think is going to happen now that Jaune is in the PJO universe? Who will Jaune team up with? Who will he face off against? Which gods will he piss off? Which gods will take an interest in him? And what will his role be at Camp Half-blood?

Guess you guys are just gonna have to wait and see!

[darknqlmes]

Twin Sister?

Paring: Jack Kline/Twin!Reader Dean Winchester/Teen!Reader Sam Winchester/Teen!Reader Castiel/Teen!Reader

Summary: Jack always felt there was a part of him missing. Well, what if one day he finds out he has a twin sister?

It all started when Jack had been living with Sam, Dean, and Castiel for about four months. On a Saturday night, Jack felt something, like he had lost half of himself.

And no matter what he tried doing, he couldn't get it to go away. Jack, being curious, went to Castiel. "Castiel, I feel weird." Castiel looked up from the book he was reading and had a look of concern written all over his face.

Castiel got up and walked to Jack. "What do you mean?" Jack looked down and explained how he felt. "I feel weird. It feels like there's a part of me that is missing. Like, I don't know how to explain it."

Castiel nodded and told Jack he would find out why he felt like this. Then I sent Jack to his room. But Castiel wouldn't be able to find out why he felt like this. Until a month later.

But not by Castiel. Oh no. You showed up at their front door. Armed. Jack was the first to realize something was up. He could feel he wasn't the only supernatural being in the bunker anymore, and he knew it wasn't Castiel.

His eyes opened as he lay in bed, and he immediately knew whoever it was wasn't invited.

He got up out of bed and cautiously walked down the hallway, being as quiet as he could, heading to the nearest Winchester’s room, knocking and letting himself in, finding a grumbling Dean, poking his head up to look at him. “What are you doing?"

“Someone’s in the bunker,” was all he had to say in a hushed tone, and Dean was out of bed, grabbing his gun. The pair left his room into the hallway, and they crept down, Dean leading the way, before they reached Sam’s door.

“Get Sammy; I’ll check ahead.” Dean told Jack, who nodded and quietly let himself into the room, checking behind him to see Dean head down the dim hallway before looking back at Sam, who was still asleep in bed. He moved quickly to shake Sam awake, who responded quicker than his older brother, looking up at Jack and immediately grasping that something was wrong. He grabbed his gun and went to join his brother in the hallway to investigate. As he and Sam came to the end of the hallway, they heard a gunshot and then a thud further ahead. The pair rushed forward, forgetting any ideas on how to bring discreet to see what had happened, stumbling into the main area of the bunker, finding Dean crumbled against a wall, and in the center of the room, you.

Your appearance was nothing but disheveled and dirty, like that of a neglected child; your hair was messy; there were light bags under your eyes; and your clothes didn’t seem to fit you, as if you’d picked up the first things you saw in a second-hand shop, and they all happened to be oversized. In fact, the clothes all seemed to want to fit an older man, and the bruising on your knuckles, the combat knife, and the light splashes of blood and still drying mud on the clothes told the three that not ago, they had. However, there was something else deeply evident to everyone in the room. You’d thrown Dean across the room, seemingly not being damaged by his bullet, and you had an aura around you that was noticeably familiar for the brothers, as it was the same aura given off by angels, and notably, Jack.

You turned your head to look at the two new people in the room, and your eyes met Jack’s, and for a moment you stared at each other. Jack immediately knew that, without a doubt, you were his twin sister. His twin was taken from him just moments after your birth, and it was clear that whoever took you or whatever happened wasn’t good. While he’d been given good influences and people to look after him, it was clear you had the opposite, and he had no doubt what you were here to do, and while it pained Jack to do it, he knew he had to protect the brothers from you, and instantly it became a race of who could land the first hit, and Jack luckily was a split second quicker than you, able to throw you down the hallway you’d come from, giving Sam time to run over to Dean, helping him up, and the pair took off deeper into the bunker. Dean turned to call for Jack, who had stopped to watch you slowly get up, before turning and following after the brothers.

“What do we do?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know. Do you think you could take her on?” Dean asked.

“No.” Jack immediately answered. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he knew. You were stronger than him. Maybe it was because he knew someone had ordered you to do this and therefor had probably given you some sort of training, training he hadn’t had, or maybe it was your rough exterior, not afraid to do the dirty work and just do what was needed, or just that you were a shell of a person, any emotions locked away. No intention to hesitate to spare the brothers, or him for that matter. “But… I can try and give us time.” Jack commented more to himself than the brothers, who continued down the hall to head to the garage to try and get away, not noticing that Jack had stopped, turned back in your direction, and started heading back, soon coming face to face with you in the narrow hallway. You both stopped with a good amount of space still between you. He didn’t know what to say to you. Would you even listen?

“Get out of my way.” You spoke up first, a growl in your voice. Jack decided to ignore this order.

“What’s your name?” He asked. You glared back at him, seemingly not amused. “I’m Jack. I’m your twin; I want to know my sister’s name. Please? I never got to get to know you; you were taken away from me. He begged. Your intense glare softened and then disappeared, leaving a sort of sad look on your face as you started to avoid his eye contact.

“Y/N. My name is Y/N.” You told him with some hesitance. "What's your name?"

“Jack.” He told you, a faint smile on his face, relieved that he was in some way getting through to you. “I don’t remember what happened—what happened to you—but I felt it. I felt it when they took you away, when they separated us.” He explained. “Did you feel it too? The feeling that you were missing something? Someone?” He asked.

“It felt like I was lost.” You confirmed. Jack smiled. You’d feel it too. That was good, right? You won't want to find your brother, right? He thought so until you looked up at him again, made a hand movement, and blue energy came out of it. “But I’ll adapt."

"No, you won’t.” The new voice startled both Jack and yourself, Jack, because he knew who the voice belonged to, and you, because the voice came right over your shoulder before arms wrapped around you, locking you in place, unable to fight back.

“Don’t hurt her!” Jack panicked, not wanting Castiel to hurt you, or worse, kill you, even as you thrashed against him. Castiel looked ahead at his adoptive son with a look that gave him some comfort, projecting a silent promise that he had no intention of doing so.

“Y/N, I can’t let you hurt anyone, but I want to help you.” Castiel spoke to you even as you continued to fight back, though Castiel held you tightly still.

“Please, Y/N. Please work with us.” Jack begged, glancing behind himself, hoping the brothers weren’t returning just yet, knowing that from what they’ve already experienced and your current situation, they’d shoot first and ask questions later. “The only other alternative is you dying, and I don’t want to lose you again.” Jack begged, stepping closer until he was also holding onto you. You slowly stopped fighting back and looked at him. Jack relaxed a little, though Castiel still had a grip on you in case you changed your mind.

“What happened to you? Who took you?” Cas asked. You didn’t answer him. Jack reached out, gently taking your arm, which was still held out in the hand position with the blue magic. And he held it with such gentleness.

“The world wants us either dead or to be their weapon, but the Winchesters don’t. They want to help; they only want us to do the right thing. Castiel helped me; he keeps me safe; he can help you too!” Jack insisted. You looked behind you at Castiel, who slowly softened his grip.

“I promise I’ll be there for you too. If the people who got you hurt you, I will help you hunt them down for what they did.” He promised. You looked down at the floor, and after another moment, Cas let you go. You didn’t run, and you didn’t fight, submitting defeat, and with that, Jack stepped forward to hug you as tight as he could.

“Everything good now?” Dean’s voice broke the moment. You turned, startled, to look at him, and Sam came back down the hallway. Dean didn’t look exactly pleased, still clearly in pain and holding his ribs, but his gun was put away, and so was Sam’s.

"Yeah, but I still have a question Y/N needs to answer. Who took you after you were born?” Castiel asked you.

(Part 2?)

[nrdmssgs]

John Price meeting civilian reader scenario (part 2)

Part 1

Masterlist

The alarm sets off so early the next morning, you feel, like you've just closed your eyes a few minutes ago. You drag yourself out from a comfort of your warm blanket and head to the bathroom.

As you are standing there before the mirror, brushing your teeth, you remember, that yesterday you invited a man you've only known a few hours for today's walk. Sounds unsafe, but then again that smile, that deep voice and muffled croaky chuckles...

Someone may call you reckless, but you call it a risk worth taking. Plus, if you never come back from that walk with him - that means, that your vacation never actually ends. So there are bright sides to even the worst possible outcomes.

In half an hour, you step out of your cabin fully prepared. Deep inside, you are ready to go on your hike alone, if the guy doesn't show up.

But Price already waits for you, leaning on the bench where you chatted yesterday. He looks at you with a smirk.

"How do you look so alive It's not even 5 am now!" - you whine, jealous of his fresh look despite the early hour.

Instead of answering, he hands you his thermos. You open and sniff it. The aroma is faintly reminiscent of coffee...

"Careful. Just a sip." - he says quietly.

You take a tiny sip and cover your mouth with your hand to keep from spitting out the contents. This drink really remotely resembles coffee. Coffee, if mixed with earth, pieces of peat and liquid fire. You cough so hard that your body trembles and tears come to your eyes. "What the bloody... thing is it? Biohazard home brew?"

He tries to hold back his laughter, but he can't. "Sorry, I thought I brewed it softer than usual today." he smiles as he takes the thermos from you and wipes a tear from your cheek.

Moving out on the road, you still occasionally cough. He is genuinely remorseful, though he can't help but smile when you turn away.

You reach the trail just as fog begins to descend from the hills covered with fir trees. The first rays of the sun break through the branches. You take out your camera and turn it on.

"Ok, now I'll go a few steps ahead, and you will be in charge of navigation" - you give him a printed map of your route.

"Add an external observation to that, and I might as well charge you for my services..." - he murmurs under his breath, as you proceed to film your walk.

He inadvertently approaches you several times and almost overtakes you. You have to catch him by the sleeve of his jacket and gently pull him back so that he doesn't get into the frame.

"Sorry, John, I just want those videos to be only about nature. When we come back, I'll show you how good it looks, I promise" - you whisper.

He doesn't mind, though. Fresh and calm morning nature, crisp air, the view he gets, following you from behind... No, he doesn't mind at all.

He likes to silently follow you, occasionally directing you by the shoulder on the cross paths.

This feels like a perfect combination of something he's good at (taking care and guiding) and something he craves (to have a rest).

He even regrets that time has flown by so quickly when you return.

You show him your YouTube channel with silent walking videos, and he is absolutely delighted.

"So there is a right side of this bloody circus after all! I thought it was just an endless chaotic party being translated there." He sighs in relief and turns on your next video.

You wonder what exactly he means by "a right side" of YouTube, but decide to leave him in peace as he's browsing through your vids.

When you are out of sight, he discreetly pulls out his reading glasses, puts them on and writes your channels name down in a little notebook. Then he thinks for a couple of seconds and writes its address down too.

Yes, this whole "...tube.com/channel/UClD8....." stuff. Just to be sure, you know?

After this vacation, your channel has seen a huge increase in viewing statistics.

Price revisits your videos in any free minute.

Others in the Task Force 141 notice that their captain has begun to spend more time at the computer, although they couldn’t even drag him there by force before.

"So when I make time to find and share something funny with your ingrate asses - I'm to be yelled at, but when the captain rewatches a walk down some road in a random forest for several hours - this is not a problem for you?" - Soap grunts at dinner.

No one answers him, because your vids became kind of meditation sessions to a half of the team, since Price shared them with others.

Price leaves awkwardly formal commentaries under every your video.

Like "Dear content creator, I want to send my sincere gratitude for your taking the time to make this video. I genuinely appreciate your enthusiasm for sharing this walk of yours with us all. Thank you again for your dedication."

Gaz can't stand such a level of cringe and shows Price, that there is an "about the channel" info section out there, with your email in it. Just in case, Price wanted to... express his gratitude to you more privately.

"I never asked for it!" - snarls Price, but ends up emailing you as soon as Gaz is out of his sight.