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thestruidora · 1 year

Note

How about this prompt with Dean Winchester x reader?

In my defense, the moon was full and I was left unsupervised.

Thanks!

Cry Wolf

Supernatural Fanfiction

Rating: Explicit

WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Werewolf Dean, Possessive Behavior, Some Angst, Fluff and Smut, Non-con Elements if you squint, Hurt/Comfort, Plot What Plot, Porn Without Plot, Smut, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Blood Kink, Knotting, Alpha/Beta/Omega Undertones

Category: F/M

Pairings: Dean Winchester/You, Dean Winchester/Reader

Summary: Dean gets bit by a werewolf during a hunt, forcing Sam on a quest to find the sire lycanthrope and cure his brother. Suffering the effects of the transformation, Dean is quarantined in the bunker all by himself. It really is bad timing when you come a-knocking, utterly oblivious, and with a bleeding gash on your upper thigh. Did I mention it was a full moon?

This is a one-shot. Here's the masterlist of my other fics: Masterlist

Chapter One

Bad Moon Rising

"Don't come around tonight, well it's bound to take your life. There's a bad moon on the rise."

You were limping, the cut on your leg sending a shooting pang through you every time you took a wobbly step forward. Getting in your car had been difficult, driving had been terrible, but leaving the vehicle and trudging down the asphalt road to the uneven terrain along the entrance of the bunker was the real bitch.

You banged on the side of the door, the metal continuing to vibrate long after your knock.

“Guys, it’s me.” You announced. A dark, heavy cloud loomed over your head, covering the big full moon that shone in the sky. Soon little beads of water were beginning to fall on top of you. “Come on, it’s starting to rain!” Still, there was no response.

You cursed under your breath and took your phone from your pocket, calling Sam one more time. As it had happened in your previous attempts, his voicemail was all you reached.

“Shit.” Your thumb hovered over Dean’s name, about to press the call button yet again, but a gearing sound stopped you in your tracks.

The bunker’s door was cracked open by an inch, wide hazel eyes meeting yours through the gap.

“Dean?” You could only see a sliver of his face, but his pupils were incredibly dilated, almost obscuring his irises entirely. His mouth was agape, and he panted for air as if he had just run for miles.

“Hey, kiddo.” You cringed, not only at the condescending nickname that he had forced on you years ago, but also at the rasp in his voice. It was gruffer than usual, deep, and full-bodied. “Whatcha doing here? Is Sam with you?” He looked over your shoulder, eyes darting around to inspect your surroundings.

“Uh, no. I’ve been trying to call you guys, is this a bad time?” You placed one of your hands on the side of your wound, wincing at the ache. With the other hand, you held onto the wall in front of you, uncomfortably shifting your weight.

Dean noticed the rip in your pants, a dark red spot tingeing the fabric of your jeans, and instantly his expression changed. The furrow in his brow disappeared and his face lit up, a glint you had never seen before flashed in his eyes, making them appear greener for a second.

The door of the bunker swung open, revealing the disheveled image of the older Winchester.

His hair was messy, as if he had tossed and turned in bed. His lips were split and swollen, as if he had bitten on them till the skin broke. And the navy blue shirt he wore was drenched in sweat, the light material stretching under his biceps and his heaving pectoral muscles. You didn’t remember him being that ripped.

“What happened?” He asked, focus unwavering from the gash on your thigh, tongue poking out to wet his parched lips.

“I had a run-in with some demons. Those sons of bitches did a number on my leg.” You explained, not liking the way he didn’t look up at you, appearing to be entranced by the seeping blood coming from your damaged skin.

Dean refused to say anything in return, or maybe he simply wasn’t capable of doing so. He just stared at your injury with a kind of sinister awe.

“I don’t wanna impose or anything, I was just kinda hoping Sam could patch me up.” You added at last, those words seeming to snap him out of his stupor.

“I can do it.” He blurted out, not giving you any time to think before he wrapped his hand around your wrist and tugged you inside.

You cried in pain when you stumbled into the bunker, not prepared to move your thigh so abruptly, his grip too tight where he held you without letting go.

“Sorry.” He murmured, noticing your discomfort but not loosening his clasp.

The wet sole of your boots squelched on the vinyl floor and you felt a rush of relief to be sheltered from the increasing rain, if only that feeling could’ve lasted for longer.

Dean slammed the door behind the two of you, the click that reverberated in your ears signaling that it locked as it closed.

“It’s fine.” You said, in regards to his apology, and offered him a weak smile while you pried his closed fist from your wrist with some difficulty. For some reason, he didn’t seem to want to let go.

You took a few shaky steps towards the foyer’s balcony, resting your arms on the railing of the staircase and looking down at the antechamber of the bunker, all the blinking lights from the old control panels catching your attention.

“Where is Sam, anyway? He’s not answering his phone.” You question, with your back to Dean, but no reply comes your way.

You shrug it off, assuming that he merely didn’t want to disclose his brother’s whereabouts. It was none of your business, after all. Like most things the Winchesters get involved in, it’s probably highly dangerous and way above your pay grade.

You can’t even begin to remember how many times you tried to participate in their world-saving crusades, be useful somehow, only to be flat-out prohibited by Dean. He’d say you weren’t ready, that it wasn’t safe, that you were too young, and so on until you stopped showing interest altogether.

Now, you hunt on your own, only seeing them from time to time. But you like it that way, you like having no one to bark orders at you, you like proving that you’re good at your job without anyone’s help. Unless, of course, you screw up and get hurt, in which case you do need someone’s help.

“Do you even know how to do it? ‘Cause I think it’s gonna need stitches.” You inquire about your wound, the abused tissue throbbing even as you stand still.

You sense movement behind you and Dean’s hand appears at your side on the railing, his torso touching your back and his nose tickling your nape. You hear him inhale deeply and then let out a sigh of pure satisfaction, the hot air landing on your neck and sending a tingle of goosebumps up your arms.

“What the hell was that?” You turn to face him, forcing some distance between the both of you, absolutely shocked at the quick turn of events. “Did you just sniff me?”

“No, of course not.” He shakes his head, almost as confused as you are. He scans you up and down, licking his lips again, and his eyes glaze over before he puffs out a breath and fights to recompose himself. “I mean, yeah, a little bit.”

“Why?” You elongate the syllable, thinking that maybe, if you really enunciate your words you might be able to get some sensible answers from him.

“It’s just that-” He advances on you and you back away from him, your ribs hitting the railing when you have nowhere else to go. He stops in front of you, invading your personal space and caging you with his big arms. “You smell so fucking good.”

He hunches over you, bending his spine till the tip of his nose touches your temple and his lips graze the high point of your cheek.

“Dean.” You call to him, but he fails to acknowledge you in any way. “What are you doing?” You try again, more forcefully this time, and he ignores you just the same. There’s a continuous vibration coming from his chest that sounds awfully similar to a purring animal, almost like he wants to soothe you into submission.

His left hand grabs the fat of your hip, bunching up the hem of your shirt and squeezing under the fabric, abnormally long nails nipping at your skin. His right hand, however, entangles itself on the hair at the base of your scalp, pulling unceremoniously so as to expose your neck to his exploration.

He mouthes on your pulse point, huffing as he pants and nuzzles against you. He doesn’t exactly kiss the sensitive skin as much as he runs the plump pillows of his lips up and down the span of your bared throat, drawing invisible shapes of his choosing.

He then finds a particular spot he likes best, right behind your ear, and fixates on it. Completely lost to the world when he lolls out his tongue, longer than what is humanly possible, and licks where the taste of your natural scent is the strongest.

The moment you feel the wetness of his saliva laving at your flesh, you jolt jarringly, pushing at his chest with all your will, and it’s like trying to move a mountain with the way he doesn’t even budge.

“Stop!” You yell, mustering as much assertiveness as you can into your tone before you give him a final shove, sending him three to four steps backwards.

Dean seems to awake from a daydream, eyes flashing to a fluorescent green and back to his normal hazel. He stares at you with a frown, unable to catch his breath, attempting to take a step in your direction but you raise a finger at him and he halts.

“Stop it.” You order and his frown deepens, looking wounded and unhappy, but he obliges.

You spear a glance at the stairs to the side of you, your only escape route since he was currently blocking the door from where you came in. You could race down the steps and lock yourself inside of the many rooms in the bunker, but with your leg the way it is, you wouldn’t make it past a single step before he caught up to you.

With your index finger still raised at him, you support your weight on the railing and move to make your descent down the stairs, planning on taking it one slow step at a time.

“You’re hurt.” He states after you swallow a lament while on the second step, visibly itching to come closer. “Let me help you, I can carry you.”

“No. You’re gonna stay right there.” You command, doing your best to not let the pain show in your features as you drag yourself to the floor below.

His feet inch towards you while he eyes you like a disobedient puppy, knowing full well that there’s nothing you can really do to stop him.

“You’re gonna stay right where you are, and we’re gonna wait till your brother comes home, and then we’re gonna sort this out.” He’s at you before you finish your sentence.

You yelp when he snatches you suddenly, pulling you below your shoulder blades and lifting you up, your only option being to wrap your calves around his hips and brace yourself onto the back of his neck to keep from falling.

He carries you down the rest of the stairs, short-winded and with droplets of sweat rolling down his forehead. He burns you, not only with the heat of his unblinking gaze, but also with his unnaturally high body temperature. You had never felt someone’s skin this hot in your life. You didn’t understand how he could be standing, let alone holding you like you weigh nothing.

“Ok, you can put me down now.” You say when you get to the antechamber, but Dean’s grip tightens on you and he continues to walk into the war room.

“Everything’s gonna be fine.” He’s mumbling, and you’re not even sure he’s talking to you or to himself. “I just need to-” He drops you on top of the light-up map table in the middle of the room, with surprising care and delicateness. “I just need to scent you.”

“What?!” You exclaim in disbelief, trying to move away but he restrains you, sinking his claw-like fingernails into your nape as a clear display of dominance. You whimper at the sting and he leans over you, purring louder than before.

“Dean, listen to me.” You can’t shake the feeling that you’re attempting to reason with a crazy person, but you have to try. He’s much stronger than you, bigger and faster, even more so with one of your limbs impaired. Talking him out of this is your only chance of preventing whatever he has in store for you. “You’re sick, you must be delirious from a very high fever.”

“Love your taste.” He’s clinging to you, head tucked into the crook of your neck as he laps at you with his tongue. The moist, flexible muscle undulates across your collarbone when he goes further down, pouty lips closing in to suck at the juncture of your shoulder, right above your artery. “Wanna bite you so bad.”

“You’re not making any sense.” He’s completely disregarding your words, though he smiles at your breathy tone.

You press your mouth shut and close your eyes when he rakes the pointy edges of his teeth over your veins, not wanting him to hear or see how his ministrations are beginning to affect you. You hadn’t realized until that moment just how sharp his canines were, closer to fangs than anything else.

He tugs at the collar of your shirt, ripping the cloth with outstanding ease and exposing your bra. By that point, your own breathing was labored, the mounds of your breasts bouncing up and down in their tight confinement as you heaved.

Dean’s irises are radioactive green when he feasts his eyes at you and proceeds to stick his face in your cleavage. He groans like a madman and pulls at one of the cups of your brassiere, your right tit spilling out and being clutched by him almost immediately.

He traps your nipple between his index and middle fingers, teasing it to a stiff peak and you shake at the burst of pleasure. You grab at his forearms to steady yourself, swallowing down a moan that threatens to escape you.

“Let me hear you.” He yanks your head back from where he holds you by your scruff, as a dog would do to another, and you let out a whine at the bestial way he handles you. “That’s right, don’t hold back on me, give me everything.” He takes your puffy nipple into his mouth, suckling and biting, and a fire spreads through your lower abdomen at the sinful sensation.

Once he ceases his assault on your boob, the tumid bud is covered in his spit, the chilling air from the ventilation system making it that much more sensitive.

His hands fly to unbutton your pants, and you’re so dazed from his heady presence all around that you allow it for a minute, only moving to intercept him when he has both of his hands hooked at the waistband of your jeans and is already tugging them down.

“Dean, we gotta stop this.” You beg him, a considerable amount of your restraint lost as you fail to convince him, his hands too strong for you to swat away while he peels off your jeans. The material sticks to the dry blood around your cut, making you flinch, but he continues till the garment hits the ground, cooing an apology for your discomfort. “There’s something wrong with you, you’re not yourself.”

He pays you no mind, transfixed by the image of you laid in front of him only in your underwear. He looks even bigger than when you first arrived, thick neck bulging with raised veins and rippling muscles straining under his shirt.

“You smell ripe.” His voice is hoarse and booming, a feral edge emanating from him when he kneels before you. He brings his head close to the gash on your upper thigh, hypnotized by the blood that oozed from it, filling his lungs with the scent of your arousal mixed with your blood. “You’re good enough to eat.”

The ends of his white teeth sparkle in the artificial light coming from the lamp in the ceiling, appearing to be razor-sharp. It gives him an ominous aura that causes you to shiver under his unrelenting glare, and he smirks at you, wrapping his hand around your legs to prevent you from moving.

His lips graze the inflamed skin around your wound and you squirm at the contact, fearful of what he might do next. The talons at the ends of his fingers scratch at you as a warning to stay still, and you do, gasping when you feel the scrape of his tongue on your tore flesh.

“This can’t be happening.” You say to yourself as you watch him hunched over you, smacking his lips at the taste of your blood, as if you were a rare delicacy and he was hungry.

His first couple of licks stung, causing the muscles of your thigh to contract involuntarily, a torrent of purrs coming your way in an effort to alleviate your distress. But as his saliva coated your broken skin, the soreness subsided and the pain was numbed. All you could feel then was the strange but far from unpleasant sensation of his continuous lapping, a spark of neediness shooting up from where he was laving his tongue at you, making your middle throb and pulsate.

He grunted, looking up at you as if he could sense your craving, as if he could smell it. His left hand travels up your leg, stopping by the fabric of your panties, pushing it to the side, and uncovering your glistening cunny.

You feel his licking on your cut becoming sloppy as he salivates and his fingers move to caress the top of your pussy. He presses gently on the hood of your clit, revealing the swollen bundle of nerves to his eyes that shine with a desperate desire.

“Look at how wet you are.” He mutters, mouth colored with a slick shade of crimson. The pads of his fingers rub up and down your slit, gathering the moisture seeping from your clenching hole to massage your flushed bead of pleasure. “You’re so precious.”

The praise goes straight to your pulsing center, molten lava settling in the pit of your stomach, and you mewl shamefully when the back and forth of his fingers makes your pussy gush.

You never thought Dean would do something like this to you. He had always treated you like a baby sister, while he was the overbearing, overly protective older brother.

He’d comment on the length of your skirts and on the tightness of your blouses, going so far as to deny you rides to places if you didn’t change into something he thought of as appropriate.

He’d hang around you at bars, hovering too close, keeping any and all interested guys from interacting with you.

He had always seen you as a kid, and now there he is, sucking on the lacerated flesh of your thigh like it was his last meal and fingering the sopping place between your legs.

“Please!” You cry out, no longer sure if you’re pleading for him to stop or to keep going.

“You want more?” You answer your own internal question by nodding enthusiastically to his, and Dean groans and drools on your open cut as he inserts two of his long, thick fingers into your scorching hot cunt. “You need more to cum, princess?”

Your lips form a perfect o when he breaches your tight, gummy walls, stirring your insides until he finds the spongy, tender spot he was searching for and fucks it with come-hither motions, over and over, again and again.

“Oh, my God, Dean!” You wail, high-pitched and wanton, losing all your inhibitions and bucking your hips in time with the flicks of his wrist as he drills his callused digits inside you, roughly and repeatedly, without giving you time to adjust to his incursion.

“That’s right, squeeze my fingers.” His voice was low and heavy, laced with untamed ferociousness, akin to the rumbling of a snarling wolf. But even with his lips gleaming with the ruby substance from your wound that he insisted on licking, speaking between the obscene slurps, Dean managed to rein in his most primal instincts to encourage your free-fall into bliss. “You can let go whenever you want, sweetheart, I’m right here.”

You revel under his coaxing, under his reassuring words. You didn’t know how much his approval would affect you, embarrassingly loud wet noises coming from your soaking folds while he hits that place inside of you that makes your eyes roll back and your tongue loll out.

All your life you dreamed of having Dean’s validation, and now he was showering you in it, your cunny fluttering at his constant moans and grunts of elation, even though you haven't touched him once. His satisfaction came from giving you pleasure.

That burning euphoria mounts up and up till it snaps and you fall down the precipice. A rush of pure, untainted ecstasy overtakes you and you scream, the drive of his fingers scissoring your spasming walls prolonging your orgasm.

As you lay there, atop the light-up table, a panting and heaving mess, Dean slowly withdraws his fingers from you, making you squirm and whine at the absence.

There's some movement happening around you, the rustling sound of clothes hitting the floor along with the metallic clank of a buckle. You barely register the lack of his mouth on your injured leg, any ounce of pain that you once felt coming from it having been entirely erased.

You sense him grabbing the sides of your panties and ripping the fine cloth with quick, firm hands, and you still can't find it in yourself to react while the flimsy pieces of fabric are rendered into useless scraps that fall off of your body.

But the blunt end of his dick searing into you is what brings you back to reality, the feel of his girth stretching you in ways you didn't even know were possible being too much to ignore.

The whole thing was too much. The position that you were in, with your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips yet again just so they don't dangle off the table. The noises coming from both of you, broken sobs that begged for more of that violent jolt of adrenaline. And, of course, the incomparable sensation of being split open by the biggest cock you've ever taken.

“You're doing so good, kiddo.” You make grabby hands at him when you hear him call you that, whimpering pathetically, and he leans over you to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips.

Some sick part of your brain brings forth all the times he hugged you when you were still a teen. The way his huge hands would squeeze the small of your back and your tits would rub up on him as you stood on your tippy-toes to receive his embrace. The way he would linger a little too long and bend his neck to steal a whiff of your hair.

He pinches the side of your belly and you gasp, his tongue seizing the opportunity to force its entrance into the warm cavern of your mouth. You scratch the skin of his nape and pull on the short hairs on the back of his head, moaning at the slick, pornographic kiss.

His lips close around your tongue and he sucks on it, slurping noises filling the room as he pounds into you, his heavy balls hitting your dripping pussy and squelching over and over.

“Keep taking all of it.” He breaks the kiss to whisper in your ear, filthy words in that baritone voice littering you with goosebumps. “Be a big girl and take all of this dick.”

You let out a puff of hot air and nod at him, promising to do your best as he spears the fat head of his shaft in and out of you with abandon.

His sweat begins to blend in with yours and you tug at the hem of his shirt, wholeheartedly annoyed at the fact that he was still wearing it at all. Dean chuckles, all sharp and pointy teeth that could rip into you and take out a chunk of your flesh, but instead, he spoils you and removes the offending garment, putting his hands over his head and pulling the shirt from behind till it is off, tossing it aside without a second thought.

You grope the span of his torso, from his broad shoulders to his barrel chest, and then his defined abdomen. There was definitely something unusual going on below the surface, an unlimited potential he kept trying to contain. As if he could grow bigger, become somehow larger, change right before your eyes.

You feel your way through the taut muscles under his skin, running your palms down his powerful arms and back up to his wide neck. He gulps under your scrutiny, your hands catching the way his throat bobs and his pupils shrink then dilate again, seemingly as mesmerized by you as you are by him.

He takes your right hand and brings it to his face, mouthing the pulse point, scenting you as he fucks you, the hammering of his length into your cunny growing erratic. He licks and sucks and scrapes his fangs on your wrist, almost to the point of breaking the fragile skin, groaning as you whine desperately.

The more he rams into you, molding you to the shape of his absurdly hard member, the more you come to terms with the fact that he has ruined you to any other man. Because why would you seek someone else's touch when you know only Dean Winchester and his monster dick have the power to obliterate your pussy?

With his free hand, he applies pressure to your clit, swiping the rigid pearl up and down and side to side, ignoring your pleas for mercy as you find yourself on the verge of overstimulation.

“Come on, kiddo, give me another one.” He commands, tone silky and honeyed, but still imposing and domineering in a way that if he were to tell you to jump, all you could do would be to ask how high. “I know you can give me another one.” He keeps going, thumb relentlessly playing with your pleasure point. “Cum again for me.”

You yell, honest to God yell, unsure if you can survive the wave of heat that burns in your loins when your cunt compresses around him, all the nerve endings in your body vibrating simultaneously while you cum.

Because he fucked you so good, because he rubbed you just right, because he said so.

As the dam breaks, a sudden spurt of hot, slippery fluids pours forth from your slit. A copious outflow of liquid cascades from you and lands on Dean's pelvis and his lower stomach.

“Fuck!” You elongate the word, sobbing due to the unmatched delight you experience like you never experienced before. The feeling boarding on too much and not enough at the same time, Dean's fingers continuing to grind against your center even as you squirt all over him.

“What a messy girl.” He grins, iridescently green eyes sparkling atypically, fingers finally quitting their assault on your raw clit, your cunt contracting around his veiny cock from the aftershocks of your mind-blowing release. “Spraying your juices everywhere.” He tuts and pulls out from you, inch by inch, agonizingly slow.

You give out a pitiful lament at the loss and at his taunting words, the noise that comes from your throat utterly unbecoming of a grown woman, but you can't seem to care at this point.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know I-” Dean interrupts your expression of regret with the full weight of his dominant hand landing between your legs, slapping your puffy folds, and making you writhe on top of the table.

“Don't fucking apologize.” He snarls, leaning over to bury his nose in the crook of your neck and swipe his tongue on your feverish skin. “You did so good, I'm covered in your scent and everyone's gonna know.”

You mewl like a bitch in heat when he starts to jerk the span of his shaft on top of you, the mushroom head catching on your entrance from time to time while he strokes himself from base to glans. Precum weeps from the bulbous end and mixes with your own wetness.

“Gotta mark you now.” He tells you like it's the most normal thing in the world, like it's obvious. His hot breath tickles your neck, the tips of his sharp teeth almost piercing your soft flesh and you shiver at the idea that he still might just lose control and do it.

You crane your head down and do your best to steal a glance at the steady rhythm he's building, managing to stare in awe as he pumps the meat of his member.

The tender tissue is flushed and throbbing in his firm grasp, his balls tensing up, full of pent-up energy. You can't believe how big it is, beautifully cut and well groomed. Painfully hard and thick, so thick you don’t even understand how it had entered you.

He grunts and squeezes the round edge before picking up his pace, not knowing where to look as his eyes roam from your swollen lips to your pert nipples, and then your quivering pussy.

“Gonna make you smell like me.” He mumbles, muscles straining and veins bulging, steaming ropes of white bursting from his urethra and landing on your face, on your boobs, and on your belly.

Dean roars as he covers you in his spent, dense and sticky and endless shots of cum painting you. You whine in surprise, licking off some of the substance that got on your lips. He tastes rich and tangy, full of a power unknown to you but still palpable, making your tongue tingle and your throat burn when you swallow.

He's out of breath and so are you, but he doesn't allow you time to recompose yourself since he's already rubbing his release over your belly, taking a glob of it and smearing it on your slit. You thrash about because the feeling is too overwhelming, but he holds you in place and pushes his seed into your welcoming hole.

“You look gorgeous like this.” He says, reverence in his tone while he bites your earlobe and stuffs you with his essence. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

You don't know what to say, you don't know how to act. You hadn't expected to be categorically ravished by the man you had always seen as an older brother today.

In the back of your mind, you knew he wasn't that Dean, the Dean you knew your whole life, at least not fully.

Something inhuman drummed beneath his emerald eyes, the familiar hazel long gone by now. And any shadow of doubt that you might have had about his feral state is pulverized when you feel his length harden again against your inner thigh.

There’s no refractory period and you scream as he bullies that fat dick inside you once more, feeding it into you more carefully this time.

“Holy shit!” You're hoarse, sinking your nails into his shoulders and drawing blood.

How can he be hard? How is that even possible?

He hisses when he bottoms out, filling you to the brim. His rough hands find leverage on the meat of your hips, clasping each side firmly before he begins to pound into you. He uses you as a cock sleeve, lusciously scraping the ridges of his hard-on against your clammy walls.

You can't find your voice, the room spins around you, and your head bangs on the hard surface of the table in time with his thrusts.

You can feel everything. Every nook and cranny that he reaches in you. The twitch of his shaft every time he hits your cervix. The furniture that supports you creaking below.

“Mine.” He proclaims, the smacking of his sweaty skin on yours upping in tempo, the dirty noises the two of you make bordering on offensive. “Say it, say you're mine.” It's an order and you want to comply, but your brain has turned into a scrambled, useless thing so all that comes out of you is a prolonged whimper.

Dean isn't able to handle your unresponsiveness, growling loudly and inflicting another slap where you are most sensitive, a broken sob erupting from you at the contact.

“Tell me who the fuck you belong to, kiddo.” His voice is so velvety it makes your eyes roll.

He’s everywhere all at once, you can’t see or hear or smell anything else but him. Somehow he’s still growing inside you and your lungs burn because you keep forgetting to breathe. You forget your own name in favor of being the center of his world in this moment.

“I- I'm yours.” You croak out, tears getting caught by your lashes, convinced that the speed in which he pumps in and out of you should be criminal. “I'm yours, Dean."

He pulls violently on your hair and howls, guttural and wild, the base of his member expanding impossibly larger still and stretching your opening when he begins to cum inside you. You try to pull away, but you physically can’t, not with the way he pins you down and plugs your cunt with his knot.

How did that happen? How did you end up here?

“This isn’t real.” You think you say it out loud, but maybe you didn’t and there’s no way of knowing for sure.

You can still feel him pulsating and ejecting spurt after spurt of his milk into you, purring so loudly you can’t even hear your own thoughts.

He rests his head on your chest, the both of you stuck to each other until you don’t know when, but he seems content with that. His fingertips draw irregular shapes up and down the expanse of your arm as he regains his wind much quicker than you do.

You stay like this with him, and at some point, he senses something you don’t and tenses up, straightening his back to look to the right of him, careful not to tug where he’s joined to you.

“Dean!” You faintly catch Sam’s voice when he shouts, but it’s muffled by the ringing in your ears.

The younger Winchester is standing by the end of the staircase, features overtaken by shock, a syringe filled with blood in his hand as he stares bug-eyed at the scene before him.

His brother on top of you while you lay naked on the table in the middle of the bunker, covered in cum and trapped on his dick, eyes dazed and blissed out, panting through parted lips.

Dean looks at Sam, then at you, then back at Sam. The supernatural glow in his irises dies down and he seems like his true self for the first time since you got there, brows furrowing while he clicks his tongue and considers the situation.

“Listen.” He raises his index finger at the furious brunet, a sheepish grin on the corners of his mouth. “In my defense, the moon was full and I was left unsupervised.”

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #Supernatural smut #dean winchester #dean x reader #spn fandom #request #story prompt #sexy times in the bunker #werewolf dean #eat my heart out #bite the fuck out of me #paint me like one of your dallas girls

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thirstywith · 17 days

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It's so interesting to think that Henry technically lived for William.

(even if it's to kill him)

And the reason is that he had nothing left. The only thing that kept him there breathing and living is William. The guy who started it all, the guy who was once his partner, coworker and best friend, the guy who destroyed his life irreparably, the guy who killed innocent children and the guy who until then never died... I truly believe that If he didn't learn about the ''paranormal'' he would probably end up like TSE! Henry.

I suppose that William was missing and no one had heard from him because he had died, but Henry still believed that William was somewhere, It's been 30 years and he still trusted his instinct that it was still necessary to look for him or be alive to stop William from doing something stupid.

He was just waiting, just like Michael (but Michael is a living dead man), wanting for some sign of 'life' that William was back. And when he showed up, Henry simply put the plan into action.

My point is...

HOLY SHIT. These two are crazy, insane and I'm almost this 🤏 to say that they deserve each other but I won't go out of respect for Henry. Imagine living more than 30 years of your miserable life to hunt down someone you don't even know is alive so you can end all this shit and finally kill yourself in the process.

In The Silver Eyes, it is mentioned that William has personal diaries about Henry that ranges from jealousy to near-worship AND I assume it's canon that William is in fact the same way in canon (If not, Charlie's death would have no motivation at all)

The research and quest for immortality that William was after comes from his obsessive envy of Henry and his desire to create something for himself, and he technically died because of it.

And Henry spent years and years chasing William to kill him once and for all, he literally lived for William.

He lived all this time just to kill William.

Henry lived for William.

William lived a good part of his life solely to satisfy his obsessive envy of Henry. He KILLED because of it and then they killed him because of that.

One died because of his obsession.

And the other lived by his obsession.

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf 6 #fnaf 6 pizza simulator #fnaf 3 #fnaf silver eyes #william afton #henry emily #willry #helliam #they make me sick #They are such the trope of divorced ex-couple who have come to hate each other and want to kill each other #they started to hate each other so much that one hatred canceled out the other and became love #I don't know what I'm talking about anymore #And yes two posts about them in less then a day

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moonselune · 2 months

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Wait, the Ansur quest is Wylls side quest? Damn. I thought it was just a fetch/kill with a little dungeon crawl so I skipped it in favor of other things bc I was on a time crunch. They really didn’t lean on its importance as much as anyone else’s side quests. Either that or Im dense…. 🤷‍♂️

Honeslty I didn't realise it to begin with either and as I've mentioned previously on my first run I completelty missed it.

And I think the reason is, it is all based in act 3 and you don't hear about the wyrm until act 3. Whereas for Astarion for example, its cazador this cazador that, I still stand by the fact that if Astarion gets downed in combat he should go "ugh this is cazadors fault".

Whereas the dialogue lines we get with Wyll are, how was it growing up as a duke's son? Pretty shit about all that mizora stuff huh?

Like it's all small talk really like yes the reveal about the exile and the reasons behind it is interesting, but its like and what?

Like he comes back to baldur's gate, and obviously you could argue that Wyll has changes and people wouldn't have recognised him, but you would expect some pushback. Florrick only gets mad when Mizora meddles with things, apart from that its like yay wyll!

Could you imagine the salacious gossip that would be going round regardless of the absolute, like I'm thinking bridgerton lady whistledown type shit. Like it would make wayyyy more sense that the baldurs mouth gazette quest to have something to do with Wyll. Just everyone gossiping about the Duke's son returning and he's got horns!

He would have suitors flocking him, trying to marry up, trying to get in with the Duke and he's got horns so he's tangled with Devils and survived - even better.

Honeslty just imagine a quest where you enter the lower city and Wyll just gets swamped by adorning suitors and you have to knock them out, or even you have to survive a turn based chase through the city. The possibilites

ALSO - (you have unlocked a Seluney rant, congratulations/comiserations)

They could have developed a Wyll/Gortash storyline, because if Gortash was slutting his way up to the top he must have encountered Wyll at some point, even if Wyll was just a teenager and it was at a ball.

Could you imagine the banter between them at the coronation, sans all the sad stuff about his dad etc.

"Finally managed to grow in that stubble Wyll?"

"At lesat I have changed, unlike your taste for fashion."

"To be knighted Archduke by your father - must have been a shock for you Wyll."

"You on your knees for a noble? Not really."

Like he is the only one not surprised that Gortash and Durge hooked up.

You could even further that by him knowing Karlach as Gortash's bodyguard which why when Mizora is like you need to hunt down this devil and he recognises her and is like yea sure. Crook on the surface, crook in avernus, it would make sense to him. Which would then make his realisation that Karlach is good, so much more intense.

But yea Larian really missed a trick here.

#ask seluney xox #wyll bg3 #baldurs gate wyll #wyll ravengard #bg3 #enver gortash #bg3 gortash #gortash x durge #ulder ravengard #karlach #baldurs gate karlach #karlach bg3 #karlach cliffgate #wyll ravengard bg3 #hire me Larian

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thankssteveditko · 9 months

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Sony's PlayStation 5 Presents Insomniac's Marvel's Spider-Man 2 (the third game in the series)

I beat the main story and have enjoyed my time with the game overall! I want to talk about spoilers and things that I liked and disliked in the story, so here's a post with some scattered thoughts.

(Hello! I haven't forgotten that this blog exists! Like I said, no update schedule, I will read more of the Lee/Ditko comics whenever I make time for it. I've actually been sitting on a mostly-complete version of this post since I beat the game in October, thinking that I'd finish the rest of the side quests so I could throw in thoughts on those. But... eh, I'll do that whenever the inevitable DLC rolls around. I just wanna get these thoughts posted.)

Spider-Cop No More

First off: they downplayed the cop shit!!! This was the first thing that really struck me about the game, and I'm stunned that they actually listened to criticism on this. I thought we'd just be stuck with it forever.

It'll never be completely gone, of course. Spider-Man is always going to leave criminals webbed up for the police to take to prison, hoping that they'll do their time and come out the other side as Productive Members of Society. That's just a thing I begrudgingly accept as part of the genre that will probably never go away. But Spider-Man is no longer repairing police surveillance networks. You're no longer beating the shit out of random drug dealers. Gangs of escaped convicts still wearing their orange jumpsuits are no longer terrorizing the streets of New York.

Instead, Peter and Miles are played more as firefighters. Sometimes very literally! They work with firefighters, they rescue people from collapsing buildings, they rush injured people to the hospital. In general there's a huge increase in the number of random onlookers present during the big action setpieces, and the Spider-Men frequently have to save them from harm. One of the major side quest lines is even literally about a cult of arsonists, and you'll routinely find burning fuel tanker trucks you have to extinguish with your webs. It's great! Love this for them.

I also generally liked the side missions in this. There's a lot of good stuff with the Spider-Men being neighborhood heroes willing to help out anyone in need, no matter the problem. Some of them can get corny, sure, but that street level stuff has always been the real heart of Spider-Man to me.

Gameplay

The gameplay's as fun as ever. That probably goes without saying. I will not be spending a thousand words explaining that swinging is fun.

In particular, I really liked the changes to the Focus mechanic. I never loved the way Miles' game made you choose between healing and doing your special attacks, but here your four specials have their own cooldowns, and the Focus meter is spent on either healing or finishers. It still offers that risk/reward element, but those vicious cycles where you can't do any real damage because you keep needing to heal aren't nearly as bad as they were before.

Personally I didn't turn off the swing assist or turn on fall damage, because the streamlined swinging never bothered me in these games, but I'm glad the options are there for people who want them.

Kraven

I liked Kraven in this! I liked the way they leaned into his Hunters being this weird death cult, and him wanting to go down in a blaze of glory against a worthy foe, to the point that he's actually disappointed anytime a foe can't kill him. It riffs on things people liked in Kraven's Last Hunt without being the exact same story. I like that Kraven's gang is renting out this manor or whatever and just being a complete terror to the wait staff. I liked the way Kraven hunting Peter's rogues' gallery clashed with Peter's belief in giving his villains second chances. I liked that they were willing to have Kraven kill off a couple of the minor villains from the first game to sell how dangerous he is. (I know some people hated this, but like, come on. We already fought the Sinister Six. They don't need to do that again.) I like the way Kraven pushed Peter to the absolute brink, turning him more and more aggressive with the Black Suit. Good stuff all around, even if the Hunter enemy types did wear out their welcome a little bit by the end.

The Black Suit arc

I think I liked the way Insomniac handled Peter's Black Suit arc overall, but there's a tradeoff here.

They REALLY lean into the body horror tentacle stuff, with Black Suit Peter basically just being a skinny Venom by the end. The sequence where you play as Mary Jane while the symbiote puppets an unconscious Peter's body around and goes on a rampage against the Hunters was REALLY great at selling how scary Peter is becoming, and it made me completely change my tune on the inclusion of the MJ stealth missions in the sequel. Having to beat an out-of-control Peter as Miles immediately after Peter beats Kraven was also really good. This is all cool!

BUT, the thing is... with the symbiote powers being so freaky from the start, it really pushes my suspension of disbelief when Peter and co. take so long to become wary of it. I guess when you've been bitten by a radioactive spider and given superpowers, and when you live in the same universe as the Avengers and the X-Men, your perception of what's "normal" is going to be pretty warped. But they buy the whole "organic exosuit created to treat Harry's illness" story WAY too easily lmao. How do the self-aware slime tentacles help with his illness, exactly?

And I'm not sure how I feel about giving Peter Anti-Venom powers in the last act. It feels like it's primarily a concession so that they can give players that branch of their skill tree back, but honestly, the designer in me thinks it would be really cool (if risky) to just permanently lock players out of Peter's most powerful skills past a certain point. Yeah, it'd definitely piss people off, but it drives home the idea that Peter's given up greater power because it's the right thing to do. It'd put you in his shoes! Instead he just gets the symbiote powers back, but it's fine because the Venom voice in his head is gone and also the slime tendrils that explode out of his body are white now, which means they're good.

I have to say it. I'm sorry. The glistening white goo... they turned Peter into the Amazing Cum-Man. I changed back to the Classic Suit after rolling the credits and forgot I still had the Anti-Venom skills equipped, so I just saw regular old Spider-Man exploding his white goo everywhere. Terrible.

Assuming Peter is just stepping into more of a supporting role to Miles and not fully retiring after the events of this game, I really hope the Anti-Venom stuff is gone. I get that he needed it to counter Venom, but that's not what I want for Peter Parker.

Miles

Miles is good in this, and I really like his arc where he struggles with whether or not he should avenge his dad by killing Martin Li. I like how all that plays out. Unfortunately, they don't quite stick the landing when it comes to making him and Peter feel like equals in terms of narrative focus. His arc is definitely the B-plot to Peter's for the middle chunk of the story, which I guess was kind of inevitable since they decided to do the Black Suit arc. But Miles does at least get a lot of moments to shine, and by the end he's very much taking the lead as the main Spider-Man.

Becoming the main Spider-Man also gets Miles a new, wholly original suit that ended up being super controversial, and honestly... I kinda like it? Or at least I like what it's going for, even if the actual design could still use some work. It's something totally unique for Miles, and I like spandex/streetwear combo suits like what the Spider-Verse movies have popularized. But showing his hair is really pushing the limits of his secret identity. He hangs around Brooklyn Visions WAY too much for his classmates to not recognize his voice and haircut. And I understand why people would be wary about it becoming his "canon" look moving forward. But I think it's got potential.

On the subject of Miles, though, I will say that while I liked Miles' side missions, it feels like he's often saddled with the game's broad, kinda touristy, kinda token attempts at Showcasing The Diversity Of New York, in a way that Peter isn't.

I like that Miles has a deaf graffiti artist girlfriend that he and Ganke sign with, and I like that there's a series of side missions that explore some local jazz history, and I like that there's a mission where Miles helps a gay classmate ask his crush to prom. I like all these things! I like Spider-Man being involved with his community, and that said community includes such a wide variety of people! I like that this game slows down to savor these types of moments instead of just being all action all the time! But when I step back, I notice some patterns.

Hailey doesn't have a big role in the main plot, especially when compared to MJ, but Miles gets a side mission where you briefly play as her with muffled audio to teach you what being deaf is like. There are no major queer characters in the story - unless you count Felicia showing up for exactly one mission to mention she has an unseen, unnamed girlfriend in Paris now - but you get a side mission where Miles helps out a gay couple at his school, who then never come up again. To put it very uncharitably, they can feel like Very Special Episode missions. It's like the devs going: we're going to give Miles a Gay Mission, and an Impaired Hearing Mission, and a Cultural History Mission, so that we can say we touched on these things, but we're gonna make them all optional and keep them far away from the full-blown Superhero Stuff like fighting costumed villains. Those flavors cannot mix. Meanwhile, Peter gets to have a whole elaborate subplot about teaming up with Wraith to track down fucking Cletus Kasady. There's an imbalance here, and I think it's part of the reason why Peter still feels like the "main" Spider-Man for so much of the story.

I think this was all written with admirable intentions, but as others have pointed out, you can kinda tell that this game was mainly written by some white guys based in California. These attempts at depicting various marginalized groups can feel kind of detached in the same way that Insomniac's map of New York doesn't quite line up with the real thing. But I dunno. I'm not really the one to dig deep into some of this stuff as a white woman from Florida. I would be curious to read others' takes on this.

Maybe I'm just being overly cynical about the writers' well-meaning but corny and kinda out of touch liberal politics because of the podcasts.

The podcasters

I wish Jameson was in this more! They psyched us out by giving him a full character model for, like, two scenes. I like him being MJ's boss, but I wish we saw inside the Daily Bugle offices to get more Jameson.

At least his podcasts are better than the ones in the Miles game, though. Him completely trusting in Roxxon was just too much for me. Here he condemns Oscorp for the symbiote shit, and he also gets some moments where he takes the ongoing crises seriously and isn't just ranting about the Spider-Men. He isn't just a conspiracy theorist crackpot here. Shit like his "fuck Spider-Man, we have a justice system for a reason" speech makes him feel more like a human being with a point of view, rather than just a caricature. Definitely an improvement.

Unfortunately, I still find The Danikast grating. I'm sorry, Ashly Burch. It's not your fault. The quirky heckin' wholesome millennial podcaster lady who catches you up on current events and then reminds you to drink 64 ounces of water a day in the same breath is just too much for me. At least she doesn't have any lines as bad as her throwing in a "damn" and then going (direct quote here) "That's right - no censoring! That's how REAL I'm being right now!" like in Miles' game. Instead they give her this, like, almost psychic insight into the main plot to try and make her the angel on Peter's shoulder. The second Peter gets the symbiote she's like "Wow, y'all. Have you seen Spider-Man's new black suit? Something's different about him. He's been giving me such bad vibes lately. #NotMySpiderMan" Also she's supposed to be this, like, underdog independent podcaster who started her show on a whim and has become the voice of the people... but she's got billboards plastered all over the fucking city. Which makes her feel like an industry plant lmao

Again, there's a detachment with the writing. This is, like, some middle aged white liberal game dev guys' idea of what a modern leftist teenager would think is a Cool Activism Podcast. Unfortunately, because Insomniac thinks Danika's a hero, Mary Jane's triumphant ending is that she quits her job at the Bugle to become a podcaster, too, delivering a thinly veiled monologue about the pandemic to kick off her new podcast literally titled "The New Normal." She's going to save the world with podcasting, because that's the highest form of activism, I guess.

Venom

So! Venom! Venom was... okay.

Surprising no one, Harry Osborn is Venom. Harry's okay both as himself and as Venom, but I'm not sure his arc is a smooth one. He starts out as Peter's comically perfect best friend who returns to reminisce about the good ol' days and hand him his dream job on a silver platter, and then later he becomes a little ball of rage over the fact that Peter gets his symbiote and can't/won't give it back. I'm not sure that pivot is handled the most convincingly. You kind of have to write it off as the symbiote messing with their heads, I guess.

When he actually becomes Venom, I'm... mixed on the execution. On the one hand, the cool factor is absolutely there. He's a very cool big monster, and Tony Todd is great in the role. But he also wants to take over the world and make everyone a symbiote, and aside from any lingering resentment towards Peter, that's really all there is to him. It makes for a good video game to have a bunch of symbiote enemies and creepy symbiote nests and symbiote tentacles climbing up the sides of buildings in the last act... but is that really what I want out of Venom? Probably not. But he sure does look cool as a big monster guy to fight, and I was happy he was briefly playable.

Suits

Part of me feels like there's something lacking about the suit selection here, but almost every suit I liked in the previous games is back, and also I'm the type of person to give Peter the Classic Suit the second I unlock it and use that for most of the game. So does it really matter for me?

Peter's selection feels dominated by the various live action movie suits, but I get that those are going to be some of the suits people want to wear the most. I wish he had the Peter B. Parker skin to go with Miles' Spider-Verse alts, though. No idea why it's missing. Really I think I mainly just want more of the Spider-Verse designs.

Also I've complained about how most of the original suits designed for these games make Peter and Miles look like they were bitten by radioactive Alienware products, but I can just, you know. Wear other suits.

Misc thoughts

Everyone's already made this joke, but it's extremely funny that the Avengers didn't help with the symbiote invasion. Took one look at that and decided it wasn't their problem

On the subject of other superheroes, I do wish these games would acknowledge the Fantastic Four more. Peter's close relationship with that team feels woefully underutilized in his various adaptations

I like the trope of a boss fight that's a heightened version of a personal conflict between two people who are close, where throughout the fight the boss is airing out their grievances while the hero tries to get through to them emotionally. That especially works for Spider-Man! But WOW has Insomniac played that card a lot of times by the end of Spider-Man 2 lol

They're teasing the addition of Silk, I guess? I'm gonna be honest, I don't know shit about Silk, but I guess it was inevitable that they'd give us some form of Spider-Woman at some point. Gotta work all those costumes in somehow, and they're not brave enough to let one of the boys cosplay as Spider-Gwen.

They WERE, however, brave enough to let Harry say he loves Peter. I liked that little moment. They presumably meant it platonically, but clearly ol' Yaoi Lowenthal knows what's up

Post-leak addendum

So, obviously, by the time I got around to finishing this post the big Insomniac leak happened. I wish the game industry wasn't so secretive that it took a massive, dangerous data breach just to get our hands on some very basic info that would be public knowledge if Insomniac was a film studio, but here we are.

We now know that Insomniac spent somewhere around $315 million making Spider-Man 2 - triple what the first Spider-Man game cost to make. A quote about this from a leaked presentation has been stuck in my head ever since I first saw it on Twitter. “Is 3x the investment in [Spider-Man 2] evident to anyone who plays the game?”

To be honest, I'm not sure it is.

I liked Spider-Man 2, but I'd probably say that overall I liked it about as much as the first game. It's certainly a somewhat bigger game, with marginally more realistic looking graphics thanks to the power of the PS5. But I think I could do without ray tracing and more realistic hair rendering and whatnot if it meant that these games didn't take like five years and hundreds of millions of dollars to make. I could not give less of a shit if the swinging animations were recycled between games. I'd be fine with them being shorter, too.

I like these games, but as we look at that leaked project lineup and realize that Insomniac is turning into The Marvel Game Studio, I think about how many smaller, more original games that those resources could go towards if they scaled back the Marvel stuff just a bit. How many Ape Escapes or Patapons or Gravity Rushes could get made for the budget of just one of these massive AAA tentpole games of Sony's, which are apparently barely even breaking even? How many could be made for the budget of the "smaller, cheaper" Miles Morales game, which somehow cost $156 million to make despite using an updated version of the same Manhattan map from the first game? Hell, how many smaller games could have been made with the $39 million that went into remastering the first Spider-Man game for PS5 a mere two years after launch? How many people will lose their jobs if any one of Insomniac's upcoming Marvel games underperforms - which, in this case, could mean selling "only" 5 million copies? And would hardcore PlayStation fans even accept those smaller games at this point, now that they've been trained to only appreciate mega-budget Prestige Games with cutting edge graphics and treat everything else with disdain? How much worse will this get as the graphical arms race continues?

I think I just miss Japan Studio. Fuck Sony. Uhh but anyway the Spider-Man game this post was supposed to be about was good, some writing complaints aside. 8/10

#tsd post #other media

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chryza · 1 year

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How to make money in this godforsaken anime game because I promise it’s not hard

Tips for everyone:

Universalis is free and not against TOS because it’s a website. Use this to easily see what things are selling on your world.

You should be sending your retainers out on ventures as often as you can. Send them out on explorations to get stuff to trade in for GC seals that can be used to purchase items from the quartermaster that sell well on the Marketboard as well as More Ventures. Or just send them out directly to get stuff.

Wondrous Tales has a decent payout on top of the exp boost. It’s not a lot but it’s free. Make sure you’re saving your Gil bags tho for>>

Doman Restoration in the Doman Enclave, at max level, will net you 30k gil per week. It’s not a lot but it takes five minutes a week. Use the gil bags to easily fill out your donation basket and don’t worry about canon.

Leve quests don’t pay a LOT comparatively but they are a reliable source of income for any job.

Do ur hunts. Not because this will make you gil. But because this will save you gil. Literally just slay the elite mark that week for a couple expansions, and spend your hunt tokens on aetheryte tickets. Never spend 2000 gil teleporting from Sharlayan to Radz-At-Han again.

If you like running instanced content:

Adventurer in need bonuses are not one time only. They persist even after your daily reward has been claimed

Roll on everything. Turn that into your grand company for seals. Use seals to purchase items. Sell these items. Ta-Da

Same thing for tomestones. Go buy shit from the vendors in the small cities with your poetics, and current tomestone mats will always sell well

If you like rping

Get a job. I’m serious. Clubs are always hiring wait staff and backend folks (no ERP required). I’m sure people who are in this scene know more about it than me.

ERP pays well my guy

If you like crafting/gathering

It doesn’t matter what level you’re at. Go to your crafting log. On the left hand side is three tabs marked with a stair, a bag with a star, and a book. Click into the bag menu. Scroll down to housing. Look what you can craft. See what’s selling. Purchase what materials you don’t have so long as you make a profit. Congrats.

Send your retainers out to gather items for housing crafts. Or just the mats directly and sell those. Do a little research into what free companies use for things like airship and submersible voyages/components and farm that

If you are maxed out, remember HARM—Housing, Aethersand, Raiding supplies, intermediate Materials. It can be difficult to sell gear because of market saturation, but the materials to make gear are always in high demand, especially those tricky intermediate crafts. Selling raid food and tinctures is easy money.

Diadem. Skybuilder mats sell well. Like. REALLY well. And you can hop into the diadem with a really low level. Have fun.

Speaking of the firmament, your skybuilder scrips are basically worth a fortune. Almost everything you can exchange for skybuilders scrips sells super well on the market.

Do your custom deliveries. It really doesn’t take long. Do whatever you want with the scrips. Materia always sells well.

The end

#FFXIV #I’m not adding vendor flipping here because it’s scummy imo Lmfao

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linka-from-captain-planet · 6 months

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Florrickology, Part 4: Florrick, Wyll, Ulder, and Character Assassination

We all know it, we all hate it. They did my beloved dirty, used her to shit all over Wyll's quest at what should be a climactic moment, and I will never forgive never forget it.

In Act 3, if Wyll rejects Mizora's offer to rescue his father from the Iron Throne in favor of keeping his pact broken, Florrick will ambush the party, inform them that "Lady Mizora" told her what he did, and seek retribution unless talked down.

This is stupid, makes no sense, assassinates Florrick's character for no good reason, and represents some of Larian's laziest NPC writing--unsurprisingly, in the midst of Wyll's personal quest, and smack dab in what's supposed to be the climax of one of the longest quests in the game.

As I said in previous posts, Florrick being willing to go to the mat for Ulder any day or time of the week is consistent with her other characterization.

Up to the point of this confrontation, the player has observed that she'll follow Ulder to literal hell and back, chase him across half a continent, and become so disappointed in her perceived failure to save him and, by extension, the entire city, that she completely gives up and quietly awaits execution, without even trying to escape (which she probably could do, as a level 11, probably Enchantment School wizard).

All her voice lines and all the things others say about her paint the picture of a loyal and true-blue friend, and a public servant of the highest caliber, "as steady as Tyr's heartbeat" and "as upstanding as the Sword Mountains." She may be sharp and shrewd, and perhaps a bit domineering and curt, but she's not cruel. She may be a bit cavalier, but she's never rash.

She's not stupid. She may be more emotional than she seems.

She has killed someone before, on the spot, for coming after Ulder. It's consistent that she would do it again, even if she had to hunt them down this time and risk being caught by the Steel Watch. In her mind, she has nothing left to lose.

What is not consistent is her being willing to kill Wyll on a flimsy accusation (that she doesn't even really believe if you read her thoughts).

Now as I've mentioned, Florrick doesn't seem to feel any particular way about Wyll; she seems to regard him simply as her friend and boss' son, just a good kid she patted on the head at parades, and when they meet again in Waukeen's Rest, as a valuable asset in rescuing Ulder and saving the city.

And I like this! It highlights that Ulder was Wyll's entire world, and it was Ulder, alone, who failed him and cast him aside. I think this is also part of why there's never any indication that Florrick and Ulder are/were romantically involved, because this would change the expectations for how she treats/feels about Wyll. But as it stands, simply being a woman in the vicinity of a child, even one in need, didn't obligate her to be a mother.

And this the feeling is mutual. In-game, there's also no indication that Wyll had or desired had any sort of personal relationship with her, as he talks about her accomplishments but not, say, seeking her out for advice or spending time with her. He mentions crushing on Stellmayne, but when asked about Florrick, he goes right to "yeah she fucks, she sniped a guy right in front of me once." He only regards her in relation to his father and the city, never himself. She's his dad's confidant and advisor, and an exemplary public servant, but nothing in particular to him.

So, it's not how Florrick feels about Wyll that makes it out of character for her to attack him, but because of how she knows Ulder feels about Wyll.

She says herself, when talked down in that confrontation, that Ulder wanted her to find Wyll and pass his birthright on if he fell, because as many mistakes as Ulder made, and as wrong as he was, and as unacceptable as his behavior was, in the end, he trusted his boy with the fate of his beloved city.

So, Florrick would never betray Ulder by attacking his son, without irrefutable evidence, especially when she'd been told explicitly to trust and help Wyll by the person she respects and reveres the most in the entire world.

As one of the most prominent NPCs in the game, appearing with a fairly significant role in all three acts, and who's been demonstrated to be an unquestionable heroic figure all along, Florrick deserved better than what she got in this blatantly lazy, formulaic scene.

And that's the answer to the question of 'why is this scene so bad?' - lazy, formulaic writing.

That's also probably the answer to any 'why is this Act 3 moment and/or NPC interaction so clunky?' question. This confrontation is Like That because it's how every every NPC Confrontation is: someone is willing to kill you for variably logical reasons, unless you talk your way out of it, and the end result is only nominally different, so it was pointless from the jump. It's the illusion of drama and conflict and a plot twist, not real drama and conflict and plot twist. Of course she (andWyllcoughcough) isn't safe from the "uh oh this game isn't done but we're shipping it anyway so we better make this story beat messy, both under-and over-whelming, and confusing to match the overall tone of Act 3" curse.

So you might then move on to, "okay, well, what's the in-universe explanation for this? How can we make it make sense, considering what we know about Florrick?"

I won't give them credit for implying anything they didn't bother to imply, even though they could have gone several other routes with about 2 lines of better dialogue and a simple animation. So, I think the only true, canonical reason Florrick does this is exactly what's presented in the text. She was approached by "Lady" Mizora, a stranger, told a lie, only half-believed it, slapped a fuckass hood on over her very distinctive freakum dress, went on the hunt, and ambushed the party in front of like 50 human, 5 cat, and 3 Steel Watch witnesses even though she's a fugitive marked for execution.

That's it. There's no further context. Again, nothing implied. As you can tell by this entire series, I will read into anything, and there's simply nothing to read into here.

No indication that Mizora charmed or is controlling Florrick, a simple explanation that could have been easily been introduced with about 1 line, a special effect, and a mocap of her "snapping out of it."

No revelation that "Lady" Mizora has been posing as a patriar and pulling strings in Baldur's Gate for the last seven years, working closely with and maybe kissin haha jk... unless Florrick, making it perfectly reasonable why she'd believe Mizora over Wyll, who's been not only missing BUT cavorting with devils for those same seven years, which is ironic because Florrick had unknowingly been doing the same thing (juicy!). (more thoughts on this)

There's not even really a feeling that Florrick, who again did all that mentioned above for Ulder and her city, is simply just so heartbroken and grieving and demoralized that she's experiencing a mental breakdown and a critical lapse in judgement, grasping at anything to make it make sense or to make her feel in control again, even if she has her doubts deep down. Again, this could have easily been written in with a few lines and some body language. I feel like this is what they thought they did, but the fact is they didn't even though it would have been easy and cost basically 0 extra resources or time.

Clearly, this scene got rubber-stamped because they (painfully correctly) assumed that nobody would care about Wyll's storyline at this point, and his supporting character Florrick with it. They probably just figured that we'd all forget how wack it was when we continued the quest and got gagged by the Emporer being a gay dragon-fucker and also Balduran.

So, what would have made this scene/part of the quest better?

To be clear, better is a pretty low bar as the canonical version full-on sucks. The above suggestions are only what could have made this specific scene (Florrick Confronts Wyll About Killing His Father) better. But really, Wyll's quest, as we all know, needs an overhaul. So, below is what's overall needed to make Wyll's entire quest in Act 3 better.

maintain Florrick's characterization (this post is about Florrick after all)

give Wyll a chance to be a hero in his own story

actually utilize Mizora, who's truly been pretty pointless all this time

provide a sense of stakes--it has to matter what happens

get everything the fuck away from that fucking magic show

I had a whole alternative Act 3 storyline written to suggest, Boss Fight Mizora Avernus and all, but realized just before posting that it doesn't work because it ends with Wyll destroying his pact, and he does sort of need that to remain a warlock for the endgame (being forced to re-class at the 11th hour would be a bit of a bold move). But trust me it was cool and better than what we got.

#bg3 spoilers #bg3 #florrickology #counsellor florrick #wyll ravengard #ulder ravengard #mizora #this one gets real tags bc it's an actual critique and not a simp post about her hips this time

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semisolidmind · 1 year

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What about a Bad End! Journey Wukong and *also* Yandere Macaque? Reader is having trouble enough trying to tame one yandere monkey warlord and then here comes Macaque who also decides haha nice human go brr

ooooh i do like this

(it's happening in the version of the au where wukong has the cuffs on his wrists and ankles that throw him to the ground whenever reader says the spell, but with macaque (who's still on wukongs side in this iteration) tagging along. like, this is happening after they were both keeping her on the mountain after their time with her as her little monkey companions. now reader has two rabid monkeys to deal with.)

when the bodhisattva summons reader (and by extension her two "husbands") to aid in the holy monks quest, both monkeys are given magic restraints (wrist cuffs, ankle cuffs, a circlet) and told to protect the humans on the journey. the bodhisattva does this because she knows the monkeys won't allow reader to go anywhere without them, and the temptation of an easy immortality boost would be too much for them to leave the monk alive.

not only do the two mystic monkeys practically one-shot every enemy they come across without much help from the other pilgrims, they really only care about protecting their wife. were it not for reader's "request" that they help him, the boys wouldn't give a shit about the monk (aside from making fun of him/threatening to eat him/the awful headaches the stupid circlets give them). reader has to act as the intermediary with all the different people they have to save, too, or else the monkeys wouldn't be bothered to help.

on that note, the monkey warlords don't really interact with the other pilgrims very much, and they try to keep reader from doing so too at the start. the boys don't care about these other demons; they kinda just make fun of them for being bad at their jobs. the other pilgrims become friends with reader, but in that regard the two warlords keep to themselves.

oddly enough but maybe not that surprisingly, reader doesn't use the throw-down spell on macaque nearly as often as she does on wukong. mac learned early on that pushing readers buttons whilst bound by the restraining cuffs is a bad idea. he isn't as annoying as wukong is, and knows how to play his cards to get reader to give him some affection occasionally (without threats against the safety of every town they come across). and if you think he doesn't get at least a little smug about that fact, you're overestimating him.

wukong and macaque spend their downtime hunting, lazing around, or invading reader's space. they like to make fun of the pilgrims when they're in earshot, knowing that the other demons can't do anything in retaliation. they're completely unconcerned with the journey as a whole; redemption and enlightenment who?

and what's fifteen years to a couple of immortal monkeys, anyways? after this boring escort mission, they'll be back on flower fruit mountain in no time at all. at least they've got their cute lil wifey to keep them entertained :)

#bad end wukong #im loving the potential this has #reader: do i HAVE to bring my husbands?? both of them??#theyre such a couple of mean girls #twice as bad au

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baldurs-simp · 11 months

Text

Un-Holy (Astarion x Aasimar!Reader)

Summary: Your heritage comes out in the midst of a battle, leaving you to confess your past to Astarion, whom you have developed a strong relationship with.

Warnings: strong language, mild spoilers, aasimar!reader, fluff, written at the spur of the moment while slightly tired, a bunch of rambling in the beginning but shit goes down later on

MY MASTERLIST

You have gone years without a fight until you woke up on the Mind Flayer ship with a tadpole behind your eye. Now, you cannot go a day without fighting for your survival after the ship crashed somewhere near Baldur’s Gate. You are not alone in the fight, however, having met some companions along the way who all share the same affliction you do; the threat of becoming a Mind Flayer.

The first you met was a Gith, Lae’zel, on the ship before it fell, then a Cleric of Shar, Shadowheart. The two don’t see eye to eye, but they keep the peace well enough to not cause a fight within the camp at night. Then you meet the rogue, Astarion, whom you later find out is a vampire after he tried to drink your blood in your sleep. How he’s able to walk in the sun without burning to a crisp is a mystery to everyone, but you think you could be because of the tadpole lurking around in his head. Or perhaps it is the work of the Guardian that visits you in your dreams.

Then you met the wizard from Waterdeep stuck in his portal, Gale. He has his issues. An orb sits in his chest, waiting to explode if it is not sated with magical-infused objects. You normally allow him to consume items that would otherwise be of no use to you. Items that grant you spells that you can already cast. Items useless to you, but not to Gale.

Wyll you had met after defeating a group of goblins that tried to enter the Emerald grove. Meeting him spurred your quest to help the Tieflings being kicked out by the druids. You plan on clearing the way for them, getting rid of goblins that might attack them west of the Blighted Village. Wyll had his quest to hunt down a devil, whom you found, Karlach.

Karlach is nothing like what Wyll had described and they finally came to a consensus to not kill each other. The tiefling that fought in the Blood Wars was only enlisted against her will. And she now joins your party in search of a cure for the Mind Flayer tadpoles.

You feel as if you know everyone in your party, and know somewhat about their past from what they shared with you after bunking down for nights while on the road. Yet, they don’t know a thing about your past. They don’t know who you truly are, or what you really are. But sometimes you think it’s for the better.

Battling the Hobgoblin leader, Dror Ragzlin proves to be a difficult fight. With the majority of your companions looking rough and the fight still raging on, you can’t help the necrotic energy bubbling up inside of you. You have to let it out.

Planting your feet firmly into the ground beneath you, you let out a fierce cry as ghostly skeletal wings sprout out from your back. A necrotic shroud falls over you, turning foes close to you around in fear. Your eyes turn into black pools as your gaze falls on Ragzlin, letting him know that he is your target.

The fight is quickly won after that and you drop your celestial facade, helping up Gale and healing him of his wounds. “Well, I didn’t know we had an Aasimar in our party,” Shadowheart mentions, causing you to turn your head towards her and see that everyone else stands behind her, staring at you in awe and curiosity.

“Let’s just find Halsin and get out of here,” you quickly say, walking past them without so much as making eye contact with them.

“Woah, woah, we’re not gonna talk about how fucking cool that was?” Karlach mentions as the party follows you, stepping over goblin corpses as you briskly walk toward the exit.

“There’s nothing to talk about so let’s not mention it. This is just something I can do just as you can go into a rage,” you say over your shoulder, pushing the heavy oak door open, shoving the piercing gazes you feel on your back from your companions. You sigh, knowing that they will pester you if you don’t tell them what they want to hear. “Look, it's a long story, okay. I come from a celestial background. It’s no different than Lae’zel coming from a Githyanki background. We all come from somewhere and none of us has pestered anyone about it, so why should it be different with me?” you question, turning around to face them. So, can we please leave it at that, find the druid, and get out of this place?”

From the tone of your voice, they can tell that your heritage is a sensitive topic. And they know you’re right. Everyone has their past and they are free to disclose as much as they want. It prevents tension from rising in camp. So, they suck it up, leaving your story to their imagination. Until you’re comfortable telling them.

Astarion, on the other hand, is not one to let things go. He thinks that he deserves to hear your story after he told you what happened to him and how he became a vampire spawn. Not to mention that you and him have become somewhat close. After all, you do allow him to feed off of you at night when he needs to. That creates quite a bond if he must say so himself.

As night draws near, everyone tends to themself to rest after a long day of slaying foes in the desecrated temple of Selune. You keep to yourself, not wanting to be involved in conversation as you fear that someone will bring up what happened to you in the fight. It’s a conversation you don’t wish to have.

You sit by the edge of the lake, looking up at the stars, lost in thought and memory. You don’t even hear the footsteps approaching you from behind as you stare at the twinkling lights illuminating the sky.

“There you are,” Astarion’s voice calls, pulling you out of your thoughts and back down to earth as he sits beside you on the ground. “I had thought that perhaps you had flown off.”

It was meant to be a joke and you know that. But it does not make you laugh or smile. Instead, you sigh heavily and glance down at your feet. “If only. Unfortunately, my wings are incapable of flight,” you state, looking back up at the water lapping at the shore. “They never used to be, you know. Gods, I used to be so fast, flying between clouds like a blur. Now, I can remember what it’s like,” you say, smiling to yourself as you recall a memory of being in the sky.

Astarion has his eyes fixed on your face, taking in your smile, something that rarely comes across your face since he’s met you. “What happened?” he asks, tentatively and in a whisper.

“I fell in love with someone I wasn’t supposed to,” you say, shaking your head in shame. “I fell in love with a devil. He was charming and cunning and I was cast out from my people because of it only to find out that he was toying with me because he wanted to see me stripped of my radiant power. He wanted to see me fall,” you explain, turning to meet Astarion’s gaze finally. “There is no pride in being a Fallen. Only shame.”

He understands now. If anyone, he knows all about shame and it explains more than you know to him why you never told anyone what you are. He wants to reach out and touch you, lay a hand on your wrist as a way to tell you that you are not alone in this. But he doesn’t know if you will allow him to touch you. He knows that if the roles were switched and he told you in extensive detail what Cazador had done to him, he might not know what to do with a friendly touch.

“I wandered around on my own, living off the land, too ashamed to show my face to others, fearing that they would know what I had done and how far I had fallen from grace,” you say, looking back out to the lake. “I was on my own for so long, until I was taken by those Mind Flayers. It seems fitting now, being a Fallen Aasimar with a tadpole behind my eye.”

“You are not alone in this, you know,” he simply says, leaning slightly forward so that he can hold your gaze. “No matter how far you have fallen from grace, you are not alone, little angel.”

You chuckle at his words, your shoulders relaxing as you shift in your seated position. “I’m glad to have met you, Astarion. I only wish that we had met sooner,” you say, smiling sweetly at him as you cross your legs under you. “Perhaps things would have been better.”

Astarion laughs, throwing his head back slightly as he follows your gaze out to the water. “I do not think you would have liked me all that much. I would most likely have led you like a lamb to the slaughter for Cazador to feast on. And he would have reveled in the taste of your blood,” he says, a low growl in his voice at the mention of your blood.

You two had talked about what the others might taste like to him, talking - theoretically - how different people’s blood would taste like. You’re sure that yours must taste different than those he had bitten in battle for a bit of extra strength.

“And I would have tried to kill you if you did,” you tease him, looking at him, your eyes meeting his and you two stare into each other’s eyes.

“May I see them?” he asks, his eyes shifting to your back.

You know he means to see your wings, even in their dismal state. You feel comfortable showing them to him just as he had felt comfortable telling you that he is a vampire. Giving a small nod, you close your eyes to focus on conjuring your spectral wings, revealing their skeletal form with minimal feathers covering parts of them, some looking as though they are ready to fall off.

His mouth falls slightly open as he stares at them, shifting himself on the sand of the shore so that he can kneel behind you. You can almost feel his breath on your next as he shifts closer, his fingers reaching out to touch the exposed bone.

A breath catches in your throat, your head perking up as a shiver runs through your spine, making your wings slightly perk up. Your heart skips a beat, something you’re sure Astarion can hear, and you turn your head slightly over your shoulder to look at him.

You don’t have the heart to tell him that his actions are considered something intimate between your people. Taking another’s wings is something only lovers do. You’ve never had anyone touch them, even when they are in their original, glorious form.

You close your eyes at the sensation, taking in it because you are not sure when you will experience it again. When you feel Astarion moving away, you look at him again and smile. “Thank you. For letting me myself around you,” you whisper, standing up off the ground and dusting off the sand from your hands and legs.

“No. I think I should be the one thanking you for trusting me,” he speaks, standing up with you as he gazes at your features illuminated in the moonlight. Gods, he wishes he could see you in your full glory. He knows you’re still holding back what you could be. Still, he thinks it could be absolutely glorious to see you as the angel you truly are.

You bid him good night and walk to return to your tent. As you leave him, he casts his eyes to the ground to spot a black feather that has fallen from your wings. He bends down to pick it up, twirling it in his finger as she smiles to himself.

He’s going to keep this feather so he remembers this moment forever.

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#astarion x reader #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 character #astarion fluff #astarion fanfic #aasimar #aasimar!reader

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thefatedthoughtofyou · 1 year

Text

So all the kids are gathered at Steve's for Easter!! And they think it's just a dinner. Until Eddie excuses himself and Steve claps his hands and tells them all to head to the backyard.

They all groan, loudly, and Steve sees Eddie's legs freeze as he's heading up the stairs. He stands there for a moment and then runs the rest of the way up, his legs disappearing as Steve frowns and claps louder.

"Hey! Dipshits!" All of their eyes land on him, his hands slam down onto his hips.

"We spent a lot of time. And a lot of fucking hard work, putting this together for you guys. So get your little asses outside!" He points over their heads, scowls as they all slump toward the door.

"And be excited about it!" He calls, and to their credit they perk a little, El the only one looking genuinely excited.

Steve follows them, smiling when he hears them all gasp when they go through the door. Steve leans against the door frame and watches them take in all their work.

Mostly Eddie's, if Steve's being honest. He'd done most of it. Planned it, drawn it out, bought most of the supplies. And then he, Steve, Robin, and the rest of the older kids, had gotten together and helped with the rest. All of them following Eddie's directions as they cut, and pasted, and nailed, and laughed, as they all turned Steve's backyard into the perfect easter quest.

All the kids follow the arrows Steve had chalked on the ground, it leads to their weapon selections. They all gasp and laugh as they scrounge around the piles of cardboard and plastic weapons. There's clothes too, everything arranged in sets, really.

Steve smiles when Dustin and Erica immediately try to switch hats because, and he quotes, "this matches mine and this matches yours lets just switch 'em."

Steve moves to correct them, Eddie had given them all very specific directions, but before he can say anything, Eddie's disembodied voice floats out the window above them.

"I'll allow it!" Steve smiles when Dustin whirls around and looks at the window.

"Are you coming down?" He calls, as Erica switches their hats, snatches Dustin’s off his head and plops hers on him. He lets her, doesn't react at all, except to straighten the hat, as he stares at the window.

"Momen- ah no! Momentarily!" Eddie calls, Steve frowns when he hears a crash above him. But smiles when he hears Eddie scrambling around. Dustin looks to Steve, narrows his eyes.

"You know what he's up to." He accuses. Steve shrugs, walks towards them at all, slaps the bill of Dustin’s cap as he walks past.

"No shit Sherlock. It's my house." He grins, turns and walks backwards, and then disappears behind one of the giant cardboard cut outs scattering his yard.

"Steve? What the hell? What are we supposed to do?!" Dustin shrieks, his voice nearing glass breaking levels.

"I think we're supposed to read this." Will supplies, holding up the little notebook that had been tucked inside the wizard robes he'd pulled on. The kids all gather round him, El practically bouncing in place next to Max. She's wearing a plastic bow and arrow set. Max is dressed with a reworked Wonder Woman costume, rope of truth twirling around in her hand.

"To Will the Wise, and any who be brave enough to venture further. A golden treasure awaits. If you can find it. And if you can survive the trip.

Good luck children. Let the hunt commence!!"

They look around the backyard, arrows scattered around, marking their path. The cardboard cut outs creating small forests and bogs, and caves, and caverns, and on the left, a huge, shining door. And all the way in the back corner of the yard, the mouth of a cave that looks to be full of dragons gold.

The kids all beam, even Max. As they settle all their weapons and costumes, and set out on their quest.

It goes swimmingly, Steve's the first stop. He's dressed like a knight, he'd been lost in the woods, for years, his armor tattered and rusting. He joins them in their quest, bringing along a secret key.

Robin is next, she's dressed like a witch in the bog. Comes creeping up behind them, grabs Mike and makes him scream bloody murder. She cackles as he stumbles backwards, and smiles wickedly as Steve steps foward, he hands the key to Will.

"Take this, keep it safe." He whispers, conspiratorially, and Will smiles, nods solemnly and tucks the key into his robs.

Steve and Robin fight to the death, both of them dramatically falling into a heap together on the ground.

"No!!! Sir Harrington!!" Lucas yells as he falls. Max grabs Lucas's shoudler, falls against him dramatically.

"It's too late. We've lost him!" She cries, letting her head fall to his shoulder.

"We must go on! For Sir Harrington!" El calls, a little awkward, but with feeling. They all look to Will, he nods, solemnly, moves his staff in Steve and Robin's direction.

"We shall never forget you, Sir Harrington. We thank you for your sacrifice." He says, tosses a handful of shredded paper he pulls from his robes, and they move on.

Jonathan and Argyle are some kind of strange two headed monster in one of the caves. They have riddles for the kids, Dustin and Erica solve them with enthusiasm, their voices shouting as Argyle tells them they may pass. They step aside, and as they pass, Jonathan calls,

"But WATCH OUT!" And then he and Argyle disappear behind their cut out again.

They unattached themselves and go and join Steve and Robin to watch the rest. All of their feet dangling in the pool as they watch, smiles on their faces as the kids work their way through the maze.

Nancy is a warrioress, she's got a bow and arrow to rival Athen, and she joins their party, rescuing Chrissy from her crumbling tower near the dragons cave. She joins them as well, pretends to faint whenever they come across anything remotely frightening, Nancy catches her. Max and El giggle everytime, hands tangled together, both of them huddled behind Lucas.

Steve stands as they approach the dragons cave. Walks slowly toward it, staying off to the side. But he had to see it. Had been waiting to see what Eddie had come up with all week.

The party walks up to the cave, slowly, all of them crouching, their weapons drawn, huge smiles on off their faces and they whisper giddily together. They take a few steps closer and fog begins rolling out of the mouth of the cave. Steve smiles, leans against the nearest tree, arms crossed over his chest.

He watches Lucas push Mike forward a bit, he squawks, does a panicked little turn and then takes another step toward the cave. He glances back towards the party, brows furrowed as they all wave him forward. Eddie uses his moment of distraction to jump through the mouth of the cave with a growling yell.

Mike startles backward, falls into Dustin’s arms as they all yell and laugh as Eddie pounces forward. Steve snorts into his hand when he sees him, finally getting eyes on his entire costume.

Eddie has clearly mutilated a large bunny costume. The sleeves are gone, it's been died a deep red, and he's drawn scales all across it. It has one ear missing, having been replaced by what looks like large ribbed horn.

Eddie has used his many sets of stage makeup to draw scales all down his arms, and across his face and neck. He's got a set of fangs now as he growls at the kids, and a pair of terrible clawed gloves hang off his hands.

"Do we have to kill it!?" El yells, hiding behind Lucas again as they all continue to laugh as Eddie rages in front of the cave.

"We could ask it nicely for the treasure!" She says, and Steve sees Eddie falter a bit, a smile on his face before he growls and scowls again.

"That won't work!" Dustin yells, then immediately turns to Eddie.

"Would that work?" He asks, seriously. Eddie snorts, covers his mouth and frowns.

"No! That won't work!" He growls.

"Defeat me or die!" He yells, and then bares his teeth again.

"Can we share it!?" El yells over Lucas's shoulder.

"El we have to kill it to get the treasure! Which better be candy Edward." Max tells her, then levels her eyes with Eddie. He freezes, his hands held up by his chest like a confused dinosaur. He tilts his head.

"I think sharing is a good idea." Will says, looks at El, nods encouragingly.

Steve watches El look around the party, they all give her small smiles, Eddie's head twitches to the side as he watches them. Nancy and Chrissy both nod at El.

"Worth a shot. Maybe this dragon has a soft spot." Chrissy smiles, looks at Eddie. He scowls at her and then startles back a step when El approaches him. He growls, low in his throat, and she holds her hands up, not the way she used too, to use her powers, but like she's telling him it's okay.

Steve watches Eddie melt a bit more with each step she takes. She moves her hands to the ridiculous fake claws, gently slides them off his hands, he whines in his throat, clearly having decided to lean into this new development.

"It is okay." El says, softly, as she slides the other claw off, taking Eddie's hands in hers. He frowns down at her, shakes his head once. Steve bites his lips as he watches El take him apart.

She reaches up, pushes the horned hood back off his head.

"We can share the candy. If you would like." She pokes at Eddie's fake fangs and he spits them out sadly, licks his lips aggressively, making El laugh.

"Would you like to share the candy with us?" She asks, big eyes looking up at him. And that's what does it, Eddie slups, his shoulders drooping, as he nods.

"Aww hell. Why not." He huffs, then ducks back through the cave mouth. The party all crowd around El, shouting and wooping, and then Eddie bursts back out, black plastic cauldron held high above his head.

"Behold! My treasure!" He yells, and then dumps the cauldron over, raining down gold coins on the party as he cackles.

They all scramble for the coins, shoving them in their pockets.

"Is this it?" Mike whines, when they have the coins all sorted. Eddie crosses his scale clad arms, cocks his brow at Mike.

"What if it is? The quest not enough? You need a whole a fucking cauldron of gold all to your self Wheeler?" He asks, eyes wide. Mike slumps a little.

"Because if so. You're in luck." He says, voice still grumpy but his eyes are twinkling. The party perk up, looking for all the world like a group of prairie dogs, Eddie moves his head to the side, eyes locked on the kids. And then he breaks the moment.

"There's more treasure in the cave." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder and walks away and the kids all scramble toward the cave.

His eyes land on Steve, still leaning against the tree, still smiling as he watches him walk over. The kids all screaming and fighting over the candy in the cave.

"Should we be worried about that?" Steve asks, lifting his chin toward the cave.

"I'm sure it's fine." Eddie grins, doesn't look behind him to check. Chrissy and Nancy smile as they pass and Steve hears Chrissy say,

"El sounds like she really wants that candy." As a high pitched shriek rings through the yard. Nancy sighs beside her.

"That was Mike." She says, both of them laughing as they take their own seats near the pool.

Eddie bounces on the balls of his feet as he stands beside Steve, and Steve can feel the residual energy vibrating off him.

"Have fun?" Steve asks, bumping their shoulders. Eddie nods, enthusiastically.

"Yeah. Yeah it was great. Had a different ending in mind. But that girl..." he trails off, shakes his head fondly.

"Yeah." Steve agrees. Eddie's warmth seeping into his side.

"Her ending was better." Eddie says, glances at Steve with a smile. Steve smiles too, lets them sit in silence for a bit until he glances down and sees Eddie's feet, clad in the bunny feet of the suit he's got on.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" Steve breathes, a laugh in his throat.

"Hmm?" Eddie hums, looks over at him fully now.

"This." Steve curls his finger in the front of the fabric and shakes it a few times, Eddie looking down and then back up.

"What the fuck is this?" Steve asks again, laughing for real this time. Eddie bats at Steve's hands, but keeps his hand on Steve's wrist when he doesn't let go.

"It's a... bunny.... dragon? Dragon bunny? I dunno one'uh those." He laughs, shrugging as he grins at Steve.

"Okay sure." Steve smiles, shrugs, curls his finger tighter, unable to let go, he fights the urge to tug Eddie closer. Wants to pull him close, wants to know what Eddie's lips feel like against his.

"Follow up question." He says, eyes on Eddie.

"Uh huh? What?" Eddie asks, his mouth hanging open just so, making Steve feel a little crazy.

"Why?" Is all Steve says. Eddie laughs then, a real, from the chest, laugh. His head tilted back so Steve has a perfect veiw of his throat, though it's currently done up with scales. Though, Steve thinks that's just making him want to touch it more. When Eddie stops laughing, he just looks at Steve, for a long moment, before a grin curls his lips, dimples his face.

"What?" Steve asks, uncertain now, a grinning Eddie is always a wildcard.

"You really wanna know why?" He asks, face scrunching. Steve nods, smiling now too. Eddie turns around, shows his back to Steve, and bounces his butt up and down a few times as he looks over his shoulder at Steve.

"I liked the tail." He says, completely straight faced. Like he hadn't just shaken his ass at Steve.

Steve laughs then, falls back against the tree, the bark digs into his skin but he doesn't care, because Eddie has turned around again, is facing Steve. Is looking at Steve with this dreamy look in his eyes.

It's a look he's seen before. Several times before. But normally when Steve catches him, Eddie looks away, always going a deep shade of red.

But Eddie doesn't look away this time. He swallows hard, and he does go red, but he keeps looking. His eyes wandering over Steve, his chest, his arms, down to his feet and then back up again. He sighs when his eyes land back on Steve's face.

So Steve smiles. He takes a deep breath, coming down from his laughter, and takes a step toward Eddie.

"This was really nice of you ya know? To do for them." Steve says, his hands reach out, gently move to Eddie's hips. Eddie's breath shakes.

"It wasn't just for them. It was for all of us. Ya know?" He shrugs a little, his hands shaking at his sides. Steve tilts his head, nods slowly.

"Yeah. It was still nice. Guess Chrissy was right." Steve shrugs, Eddie brow furrows.

"The dragon does have a soft spot." Steve says, moves one hand up to Eddie's chest, rests it right over his heart.

Steve watches Eddie melt again, his face doing acrobatics, flickering between a smile and a frown and then his lip trembles and Steve can't take it.

He presses forward, kisses Eddie, soflty. Smiles into the kiss when Eddie makes a little surprised noise, his hands slapping against Steve's back, moving down to his hips, his fingers curling into the loops of Steve's jeans. Steve pulls back, rests his forhead against Eddie's.

"You kissed me." Eddie breathes between them, his hands are hot on Steve's hips, and he can feel him trembling.

"Yes I did. Is...that okay?" His chest flutters with uncertainty, but Eddie's fingers squeeze into his hips like he's afraid Steve is going to disappear, and Steve knows he has nothing to worry about. But Eddie confirms it anyway.

"Yeah. I mean shit Steve, I-" he cuts off, leans back a bit, so that he can look at Steve, properly. He's got that dreamy look in his eyes again, but it's softer now, he reaches up, moves his fingertips over Steve's face, tucks a stray hair up into his hairline with a smile.

"What? What are you looking at?" Steve asks, his hands move over Eddie's arms, tugging him closer and then curling around his wrists when Eddie settles his hands against his chest. Eddie bites his lip, shakes his head, and laughs.

"Just you. And I dunno... it's funny I guess?" He shrugs, looks at Steve, eyes wide and honest. Steve sighs, he's so gone on this guy.

"What's funny?" He asks, his own head shaking. Eddie laughs again, sounding giddy.

"Just... a knight and dragon. Ya know? Who'd've thought?" He shrugs again, fingers pressing into Steve's chest. Steve tilts his head to the side, looks at Eddie for a moment, moves his hand down over Eddie's arm, his fingers dancing over the crimson scales Eddie had drawn there, his heart racing as he touched the boy in front of him, finally.

His hand cups Eddie neck, thumb moving gently over the scar on his cheek. He pulls him closer, pressing their chests together. Steve nods, licks his lips.

"I would. I've been thinking about it a lot, actually." Steve breathes, smiles when Eddie presses forward, his nose brushing Steve's as a whine escapes him.

"Really. You've been thinking about me?" Eddie asks, and he sounds so small. Steve nods, wraps his arms around Eddie's waist swiftly and turns them, presses Eddie agaisnt the tree.

"I can't stop thinking about you Eddie. You're all I think about. All day long." Steve sighs, his head resting on Eddie's again. He feels Eddie's fingers scrambling against his shirt nervously.

"Nerdy freak shit 'an all?" Eddie asks, his body trembling agaisnt Steve's. Steve nods, looks at Eddie with longing.

"Oh all that shit just makes it worse." Steve breaths a laugh, wraps his arms around Eddie tighter. He lets out a little sqeak and Steve pulls back, just a bit.

"I think about you too. All the time." Eddie says in a rush, his hands moving to Steve's shoulders, fingers curling into his soft grey sweater. Steve nods, slow, as he leans back into Eddie's space, his lips brushing Eddie's as he whispers,

"I know you do princess." Eddie whines again and surges forward, kissing Steve fiercely.

It's clumsy, and it's messy, and it might just be Eddie's first, or second, kiss. And just that thought makes Steve's entire body thrum with excitement. Eddie pulls back awkwardly, pats at Steve's shoulders, like he can't keep his hands still.

"I um-" he coughs, clears his throat.

"I'm a dragon. Not a princess." He says, but there's no heat in his words, and his eyes are sparkling like maybe he could be, maybe he could be Steve's princess.

"Do you wanna be both? For me? A knight needs both ya know? A dragon and a princess. Maybe mine just happen to be one and the same." Steve whispered these words between them, like a secret, but the light in Eddie's eyes just burns brighter. He nods again, quick, his hands moving to Steve's neck as he licks his lips.

"I think I'd like that." Eddie sighs, Steve smiles, his heart fluttering when Eddie smiles back, crooked grin dimpling his cheeks.

"I'd like it too." Steve presses his lips to Eddie's again, softer, slower, letting Eddie enjoy it, letting him learn.

And then a wolf whistle rings through the air and they break apart, the kids cheering as they throw golden chocolate coins into the air, the teens by the pool whistling and laughing as Eddie hides his face in Steve's shoulder. Steve laughs and holds him close, protecting his dragonly princess from the teasing of their friends.

#HAPPY EASTER GUYS!!!!#i hope all of you who celebrate it had good days!!!#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie blurb #fates endless inkwell #fei #my writing #mine #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #holiday fic #steddie first kiss #inexperienced eddie munson

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