#like i might make it until the end of my contract without saying anything to him but i might end up in prison for assaulting an old man

[fingertipsmp3]

Finding out one of your (formerly) favourite coworkers is a homophobe is so painful. Everyone loses

[misshugs]

The Cameragirl || snc

You've been Sam and Colby's cameragirl for some time now. Usually, nothing too crazy happened to you in most investigations, but this time...

warnings: paranormal activity, reader getting attacked, near death experience, strangling(?), cursing, angst?

a/n: took a bit of inspo after watching the boys' video of the asylum, but nothing exactly like it. just the fact that the place is an asylum

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

word count: 3.6k

[u n e d i t e d]

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As they were making their iconic intro and explaining what this new place was about, you made sure to have a sturdy pulse whilst filming them.

"Today, it's just me, Sam and our lovely cameragirl, Y/n." Colby said, letting you shift the camera towards your face and smile at it.

"Hello there." You said, making sure your face was extremely close to the camera, merely because it has become your way of introducing yourself.

"And since it's only us today like the good old days, we decided to make something fun. ALL of us." Sam explained to the camera and smirked, looking directly at you.

You batted your eyes, looking at them while they kept on smiling menancingly at you. "This wasn't a part of the contract." You said, gaining a laugh from both of them.

You zoomed onto his face and began talking with this soft, almost narrative voice. A voice you very well knew they enjoyed. "What is this oh so fun idea you seem to be hyping about, mr. Golbach?"

"Why thank you for asking." Sam nodded slightly, moving his attention towards the camera. "The three of us are gonna do a little challenge tonight." He clapped his hands together as you began unzooming the camera, putting Colby back on frame.

"That's right, we're going to walk alone, lights out throughout some of the most haunted corridors from this place." Colby continued. "The owners of this place told us it gets freaky when people are alone, so we thought this might get us some good activity."

"We have some cameras with nightvision but we're not gonna see shit." Sam added, "After a while, we all should find our way back to the main lobby."

"So stay until the end to see how that's gonna turn out." Colby says, getting close to the camera before covering it with his hand, making you stop the recording for the cut.

"That was pretty good." You said, looking at the video slightly.

"You're still good with the challenge, right?" Sam asked, looking at you. You scoffed.

"Please. I wouldn't have come if I wasn't sure about it. Remember you told me about it before the video?"

"I know, I know. Just making sure, you know how I am." He laughs. "Wouldn't want you to do something you're not comfortable with."

"You're saying that like we haven't known eachother for how long?"

He chuckles. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Alright, so since we're all settled, should we start right away?" Colby chimed in, looking at both of you.

"Not yet. This place has some good cinematic potential, lemme cook first." You said, looking around with your flashlight.

"Aight, we'll let you do your thing, I'll go ahead and look for the equipment." Colby said.

"Oh, shoot. I forgot to ask the owners about something." Sam said, taking out his phone.

"Go out with Colby, I'll be here waiting." You said, fixing back your camera to start recording.

"Alone?" They both asked, looking at eachother and then at you.

"I do my best work alone, gentlemen. You know that." You begin walking towards the shadiest corridor you've seen in your life, without even looking back.

"Oh wow. Fearless. She's trying to do the challenge before us." Colby laughed.

"Alright, I'll be super quick. If anything happens, just yell. As loud as you can." Sam said, smiling.

"Copy that." You laughed.

In the blink of an eye, you were left alone. You were used to these type of things, so it didn't bother you much. You've somehow become numb to all of this paranormal adventuring.

And that was one of the main reasons why you liked to take control of the camera, since you were able to keep your cool in stressful situations, making it easier for the viewers later on.

Plus, you didn't know how to act on camera and they were the professionals... allegedly.

Whenever something odd happened, you made sure to try and record as much as you could, in the best angles possible. You liked to joke around and call yourself a professional in your craft, although sometimes it wasn't even a joke.

You were passionate about it. The videos and the ghosts, it was only natural to try and do more, risk yourself to do something more interesting and outgoing.

That's a piece of yourself they loved about you. You were simply a perfect match in their combo.

As you began to do your cinematic, you began to have shivers. A sudden draft of air passing through you, as if a window suddenly opened.

Looking around, there was no possible way of that happening. You were in the middle of the corridor, absolutely no chance of an air draft simply passing through so randomly.

You thought it might've been a bit odd, but nothing you haven't felt before anyways. While you kept on making some videos, an eerie feeling of someone watching crossed over your spine.

The sensation of a presence slowly getting closer to you behind your back.

Almost feeling the heat of another person behind you, towering over you.

Hurriedly looking back, you were met with Sam's hand almost touching your shoulder. He stopped midway, knowing he got caught trying to scare you. "You bitch." You spit out, making him laugh.

"Damn it!" He said mid laugher. "I was so quiet this time, how do you always seem to know?"

"I can feel you lurking closer, you stalker." You looked away from his gaze, trying to ignore the thoughts of his pretty face. You began walking back to where he came from, meeting Colby in the process.

"I'm not a stalker, if anything, I'm protecting."

"Quietly from the shadows, sounds like a stalker to me, but you do you." You smiled softly, looking at the confused Colby.

"I left for a second, what did I miss?"

"Stalker behavior, nothing else." You said, putting your camera up again and ready to record.

Colby shook his head from side to side, already being on your side of the story without even asking further questions. "I can't believe you brother."

"Wha- it wasn't-..." Sam sighed, defeated. He knew you were joking, so he wasn't going to win anyways.

You laughed and pointed the camera at them. "Ready when you are." They nodded and you began to record.

"So as you can see, in our hands we have some devices that we'll scatter throughout this first room. If you've been here before, you'll probably be familiar, but if you haven't, these are basically some motion censor devices that will let us know if something walks infront of it." Colby explained, turning one of the devices on and showing to the camera how it worked.

As they organized everything, the REM-POD immediately began beeping. "Oh, shit. That's the rem pod." Sam said, stopping on its tracks. "That was the temperature dropping."

You made sure the camera caught that as you got closer to it. "Oh fuck. I was feeling a bit cold since we got here." Colby added. "Alright. I think we're ready."

"Okay. If there's any spirit around that would like to communicate with us, we would like for you to use any of these devices we've put up for you." Sam started, as you made sure to get far enough from everything for the shot.

"You can touch these lights on the floor, or maybe this device I have on my hand." Colby continued, pointing towards the EMF reader. "We mean no harm, we'd just like to talk to someone."

A couple of seconds passed, looking around, waiting for something to happen.

"Maybe they don't want..." Sam began, before getting interrupted by the REM-POD beeping, making you hurriedly move your camera angle. "Oop. Nevermind. Thank you very much. Can you do that again if you're here with us? To let us know it wasn't something else?"

Silence filled the room for a while, before the device started to beep once again.

Excited, they began asking questions to this entity, expecting for it to be somewhat intelligent enough to give answers back.

Luckily, it was. It seemed to be someone that died inside the asylum, a woman. Curious about the story of this woman, they kept on asking questions. Some of them being answered, others being completely ignored.

Asides from the constant beep from their device, you heard a knock coming from one of the corridors. Quickly looking around, they stopped talking. "What?" Colby asked.

"Heard something." You whispered. The room went silent, followed by what sounded like footsteps getting closer. You turn the camera back at them and their faces were shocked.

"Holy fuck." Sam whispered.

"That was like... thumps. We're the only ones here, right?" Colby asked him.

"Yeah, we're supposed to be." Sam says, walking towards the place they heard the sound, quietly. You followed close behind. "Hello?"

Nothing. They kept on looking around, searching and at the same time waiting for something else to happen. "There's no one here." Colby says. "But that was clear as day."

"Super clear, the camera must've have heard that, for sure." Sam said, looking at you as you nodded. "That was crazy."

"Yeah, let's try something else but closer to this area, maybe it's more active." Colby said, and all of you nodded.

A couple of minutes later, and you were all set up. This time around, they turned on a spirit box to try and communicate better.

The idea was to first use it as normal, then for Colby to do the Estes Method.

And so, the spirits began to talk.

"What's this." It spat out. Colby and Sam looked at eachother, smiling.

"Hello, this is a spirit box, you can use it to communicate with us. Would you mind telling us who you are?" Sam said, looking around.

"Hello?"

"Hi, hello." Colby responded. "Who are we talking to."

"I'm scared."

"Scared? Scared of what?" Colby asked, furrowing his eyebrows whilst looking at the camera.

"Behind you."

They quickly looked behind them. "Oh, fuck. I hate that." Colby said, as you smiled at their gestures.

It quickly faded away when you felt the familiar presence of someone behind you.

Heart racing, you looked around for a second, but there was nothing there. It didn't mean the feeling went away, though.

"Monster. Care..." It seemed the audio cut before finishing the whole word.

"Monster... care?" Sam asked, confused.

"Or maybe it meant careful? Like, careful of the monster?" Colby questioned.

"It would make sense. What monster are you talking about? Is it harming you? Are you scared of this monster... or... person?"

It took a while before responding. Last thing it said, before a screech filled the radio was... "Run."

Quickly, they turned it off. They looked at eachother. "That was terrifying." Colby said. Sam nodded and sighed.

"Let's try and look around for some other place. This doesn't feel safe." Sam said and everyone agreed.

For the past hour of recording, moving around and joking here and there, you felt a bit uncomfortable. Usually, you weren't the type to get scared over the paranormal, but this place felt more eerie than usual.

You heartbeat has been increasing slowly, as well as a slight pain in your chest that quickly faded. You felt watched.

There was a point where you even felt slightly touched, quickly warning the boys about it.

Due to this, they almost discarted the idea completely, thinking you might be getting targeted, scared that it might do something to you. It took you a couple of minutes of convincing them to keep on recording before the conversation was dismissed.

You tried to brush it all off, as 'something you've felt before', but deep down you were really anxious about it. Perhaps it made you feel better to think about it being just the nerves.

But you weren't the type of person to feel these nerves for no reason.

"Hey, you good?" Colby touched your shoulder and whispered to you, noticing you seemed a bit weird. "You seem out of it today."

"Yeah, I'm good. I was just zoning out."

"Yeah, I noticed." He chuckled, looking into your eyes. "You sure you're okay though?" He raised an eyebrow, seemingly concerned. "You don't look well."

"What? Do I look like a ghost to you?" You asked, smiling, which quickly made him show that gorgeous smile you loved.

"More like you've seen one." You shook your head.

"I'm fine. I've just seen some shadows running in the corners of my eye, but nothing too big to point out."

He batted his eyes. "You've what?"

"Calm down, you know I see those things all the time. It's nothing new." Half of it was true. The other half, well... there was a chance you might've seen a whole figure standing close to a doorframe, but you felt your imagination was tricking you too much tonight, so you didn't say anything.

You weren't a psychic or a medium or something close to it anyways. If anything, you'd probably consider it more like a hallucination due to the constant lack of sleep you've been having lately.

"I know, I know, but still. You could tell us about it, you know? Maybe we all see the same thing you do and since you don't point it out, we don't notice."

You rolled your eyes playfully. You were about to say something, but a breeze passed through your ear, a soft whisper saying "Come play."

You jumped, covering your ear and walking closer to Colby. "Shit." You whispered.

Confused, he held your shoulders. "What? What? You heard something?" His worry was enough for Sam to stop setting the cameras up and walk closer.

"What happened?" He asked. You looked around where you were standing.

"Did you guys not hear that?" You asked, the shook their heads. "I heard something like... right next to me." When you said that, Sam began recording once again.

"Alright, so... apparently Y/n just heard something right next to her." He began explaining to the camera, pointing it at you.

"It was like a whisper, it.. uh... it just said 'come play', like, the creepiest shit you can say. I even felt the air on my ear, that shit made me jump." You tried laughing about it to not let the mood down, but it wasn't working much.

"Although I really want to, maybe we shouldn't do the challenge." Colby said, looking at Sam straight in the eyes, genuinely worried.

"Guys. Come on. Don't back down when we're this close." You said. "We're basically done for tonight, this is the last thing we're doing and we're out, right?"

"...yeah." Sam whispered. "Let's..." He sighed. "Let's do it. Just like she said, we walk through the corridor and come back straight away."

Althought skeptical, Colby nodded. "Fine. Let's hurry up then. The quicker we begin, the quicker we're leaving this place."

And so, everyone held their cameras and said their goodbyes. The three of you went through your respective corridors and began walking, alone, with no light.

"Alright guys. I'm not good at, like, talking to the camera but I'll try." You sighed, pointing the camera at your face while slowly walking the dark corridor.

"Honestly? I'm usually not as creeped out when we come to places like this, but this one is like... up there. It's giving me the chills, making me paranoid, I feel like I'm... seeing thing. Or maybe I'm just sleep deprived. That's... that's also an option now that I think about it."

Looking around with the camera, although it's absolutely useless, you started feeling out of breath. Almost as if the air didn't reach your lungs anymore. "It feels... hard to breathe." You took a deep inhale and shakily exhaled.

You gulped, your throat suddenly feeling dry as the lack of oxygen was evident.

"I'm just gonna walk... faster. I wanna get this over with..." And so, you did. But the further away you got, the worse it all felt. You felt your vision starting to get blurry although you could barely see anything.

You paused as your vision began to get used to the darkness.

At the end of the corridor, what you could shape out like a human figure was standing there. Seemingly the same one you barely saw before.

This time, it didn't seem to go away.

You were also alone.

Unable to breathe.

You don't know when it started, but you were unable to breathe properly. You choked, trying to regain yourself from the feeling.

Your neck feeling tight, your stomach hurting at the sudden feeling.

Putting your hands on your neck, you coulnd't feel anything that would make you feel this way. You started to get worried.

You felt as if you were being choked. You tried to scream, but all that you could spat out from your lips was a soft, quiet, 'help'.

Trying to turn around and walk back, you saw the figure again and got scared, falling towards the floor. You coughed for air, sucking back as much as you could but being unable to.

Leaving the camera behind, you tried to crawl back to where you came from, but the lack of circulation on your body failed you as you coulnd't handle it anymore.

Your body falling on the floor, the camera seemingly recording your movements come to a halt.

Your eyes closing, leaving you unconscious.

It didn't take long before Sam and Colby got back to the lobby. Waiting for you, something seemed off.

They knew the corridor wasn't as long as theirs. You should've been the first one out by that logic. They've been waiting long enough and they were starting to get worried.

Even though the concept of the challenge was to be alone in the darkness, the idea of you being in trouble was too much to bare.

Heck, even if you were pranking them, the anxiety of you not coming back on time was driving them insane, they were ready for a scare if it had to come to that.

But the scare they were expecting wasn't the one they got.

Minutes of walking and calling out your name came to a stop when they saw you on the floor.

Hurriedly, they ran towards you and fell to the floor, yelling out your name. "This isn't funny, Y/n!" Sam yelled, moving your body, only to notice how cold you felt. His heart sank.

"Y/n, come on!" Colby said, putting himself on the other side, looking at Sam. The color from his face was gone when he felt her body. Colby, worried, touched your body and understood why he looked that way. "Oh, fuck. Fuck!"

Throwing the camera to the side, Colby quickly checked your pulse. "Sam. Call 911. This is serious." You still had a pulse, but you weren't breathing. First thing that came to his mind was CPR.

While Sam began to call, Colby was trying as hard as he could to help out. He began doing mouth to mouth, trying to bring some oxygen back to your lungs.

Tears streaming down both of their faces. Colby started making compressions to your chest, while Sam was talking to the 911 dispatcher and using the flashlight to illuminate Colby.

Luckily, they weren't too late. You began to cough and moved to the side to spit out some saliva. You breathed heavily and both of the guys sighed in relief.

As you tried to catch your breath, they softly held you up in place while your color came back to you. You blinked a couple of times, adjusting your view to your surroundings.

When you looked at them, they hugged you tight. "Fuck..." Sam whispered. "Let's get the fuck out of here right now." He held you softly and helped you out, as Colby grabbed all of the cameras.

It was hard for you to walk. It felt as if a ton of weight was keeping you from even standing up. It felt as if your limbs went numb, the lack of oxygen probably acting up.

Sam noticed, and didn't hesitate on holding you up and putting you on his back so that you could rest. They began walking as fast as they could, reassuring you that you will be fine.

You were focused on getting your breath back while listening to them scream at the spirits.

"You are not allowed to follow us home." Listening to Colby talk like this, while taking all of the equipment made you feel light. You started moving your arms and made sure to hold onto Sam, closing your eyes.

"You'll be okay. We're leaving." Sam reassured you, waiting for Colby to grab everything and get out of there in a rush.

After the police arrived and handed you an oxygen mask, you started feeling much better. You had some marks on your neck, like some hands were just squishing the air out of you.

Your body... at first, you could even see your veins pop out of your legs because of your lack of color. The poor circulation that ran through your body for a couple of minutes really drove your body to its limit somehow.

It took you a while to be able to stand on your two feet again, but before the police left you could walk on your own just fine. Sam and Colby however still managed to help you out.

"Let's head back home." Sam whispered to you. You nodded slightly and tried to walk on your own, only to be held up by Colby.

"Don't force yourself right now. You need some rest." He said, taking you back to the car. Your face having a rush of blood because of the gesture.

"I... I can walk."

"Let us do this. Please. It's too much already that you fainted right when we weren't with you." Sam said, looking at you, your heart racing at the look of his blue eyes upon you. You gulped.

"...f..fine." You said, resting your head on Colby's chest, making him smile.

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part two is up!! the link is in the beginning! <3

thanks for reading all the way! likes, comments and requests are much appreciated.

-nikkõ

[avocado-writing]

Hello! Might I ask for the lovely bg3 guys hearing tav say they're love them in the middle of an argument please? Take your time!

Astarion

Who knows what you're arguing about. It could be something sincere (his ascention) or something inane (he took your soap without asking, again) but it still slips out all the same:

"You're lucky I love you, or I'd be really angry."

The two of you stop and stare at each other for a moment, before you let out a strangled little sound and exit the conversation.

Astarion is baffled. He wasn't expecting that. Except, he sort of was? He's been trying to get you to fall for him after all, so why does it feel so... nice to hear you say it? And why does he feel so guilty?

The two of you move on like nothing's happened for a while, the tension bubbling between the two of you, until eventually he can't take it any more.

The two of you are on watch one night and he blurts out, "I love you too."

You stare at him for a long moment, he's never felt smaller. "Are you being serious?" "Yes. I am."

You look so relieved. He brings you into his arms and the two of you stay embraced for the rest of the night.

Gale

It's like you're arguing about the bomb inside him.

He's arguing it's the best solution to your problems, you're telling him that he needs to care about himself more. You're getting so frustrated that tears are starting to sting hot in your eyes.

"I wish you loved yourself like I love you, Gale."

Ah, you didn't mean to let that slip out. The two of you let the quiet sink in. You go to move away, his silence crushing, but he reaches out to grab you - not hard, but enough so that you stay.

"You love me?"

Tears come, inevitably.

"Of course I love you, Gale, you utter fool."

You can see he wants to argue about that but for once just takes the insult, pulling you into his arms so tightly you feel like he'll keep you there forever. Yes, he is a fool for not seeing it earlier.

"I love you too. You are the most precious thing in my life. I'm sorry for worrying you... and you're right, of course. You're always right."

You sleep in his arms that evening, and the Netherese Orb is never mentioned again.

Wyll

Oh, Wyll. Why would you be arguing with this sweet, kind man?

Maybe you're begging him to try and get out of his contract with Mizora, take back hold of his own life again. He's arguing about duty, what he owes to Baldur's Gate.

"I wish you'd think for once about what you owe to me, Wyll. To yourself! I love you!"

His mouth falls open, he's flabbergasted. When you try and escape he doesn't let you, following you into the forest where you run, calling your name.

Eventually you slow down enough for him to catch you and bring you in for a sweet kiss, then press his forehead against yours.

"I love you too. Of course I love you. I hate that I ever made you feel anything less than my absolute priority. You are always the first in my heart."

The two of you sit down and have a long, healthy conversation about talking things out as a couple. Making decisions together. At the end of if you come out stronger, united as a team.

Halsin

Halsin is probably the most laid-back on this list, it's hard to think of something you'd really argue about.

It comes down to this: you aren't taking care of yourself enough. Not eating properly, sleeping properly, sharing your burdens. You are trying to shoulder it all.

He keeps telling you that you need to be kinder to yourself - you keep snapping that he isn't in charge, he doesn't know what it's like. He tells you he cares about you too much to see you in pain.

You're angry at first - who is he to tell you what to do - and then you're just sad; burying your face in his chest.

"I love you too much to argue with you, Halsin," you whisper, and his heart melts.

"I love you too, my heart. Let me take care of you."

He cooks you dinner and makes sure you eat it all, draws you a bath and helps you wash. His fingers are magic. He lays down with you on your bedroll and lets his body warm yours, keeping you tight against him, only drifting off himself when he is sure you are sound asleep.

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 25

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, a tinge of angst, FLUFF

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: I'm not sad... 🥲 Honestly, I don't have words beyond gratitude and cliché goodbyes, so let's end this journey together 🤍

<< 24 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

25. Dare

“Ugh, I can’t believe you convinced everyone to come out here,” Jo groans and raises her flat palm to her brows, shielding her eyes from the scalding desert sun. “What the fuck is wrong with Palm Springs, huh?”

“C’mon, we’ve always wanted to go to Joshua Tree together since we moved to LA. This is like the perfect time,” Y/N argues cheerfully and nudges her friend with her elbow. “Look! It’s so peaceful.”

“There’s a dead carcass over there. Looks like a symbol of my marriage,” Jo deadpans.

Y/N purses her lips before compelling another positive smile to her face. “We can get rid of that. The girls really needed this after the whole Crowley debacle.”

The group left straight after the network meeting in Dean’s office this morning, which didn’t go as planned, to say the least. While several executives were surely interested, Crowley and H-ELLTV put an abrupt end to it. Apparently, they sold their fucking souls by signing a contract with the devil. Crowley’s words still rang in her ears on repeat.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, ladies, but H-ELLTV owns your characters, which means you can’t sell them to another network. You all signed a contract and made a deal. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, fucking asshole…” Jo huffs her agreement but then throws her friend a suspicious sideways look. “What’s up with you, though? Why are you so chipper and cheerful like a fucking Disney princess? I thought you of all people would be fucking depressed and devastated about the stupid show ending.”

Y/N shrugs. “I am. I’m just trying to make the best of our last weekend together. Can’t I be happy?”

“Fuck no.” Jo shakes her head. “Something’s up with you. Usually, when you’re like this, it’s overcompensation ‘cause you’ve fucked something up. If I were still married, I’d think you’ve fucked my husband all over again. So, what did you do?”

Y/N shrugs once more and keeps her eyes trained on the sprawling desert landscape in front of her. “Nothing.”

“Dean also was a bigger asshole than usual this morning. So, I’m asking again, what shit did you fuck up now?”

“Nothing, okay? Dean’s always an asshole,” Y/N deflects defensively. Although, even she has to admit – those were some spectacularly icy green eyes this morning. Not that he ever looked directly at her or spoke with her even once. She probably would’ve turned to stone if he did.

“Fine, don’t tell. God knows I don’t fucking care,” Jo says indifferently and joins the other women as they set up their tents on the campground.

Y/N lets out a small sigh as she stares at the bluest sky she’s ever seen while the hot desert sun beams down on her. She watches the girls for a while, her heart slightly cracking at the thought this might be the last time they all hang out together. This year has been the best one she’s ever had.

But then, her heart stings even more when she thinks about the one person who isn’t here, wondering what he’s doing right now. If anything, she owes it all to him.

Dean nurses his beer with a sigh, his green eyes barely paying attention to the half-naked girl who’s winding herself up and down a silver pole in front of him. This used to bring him joy – day-drinking at a strip club and watching tits bounce. But now all he thinks about is how that girl looks nothing like Y/N. None of them do.

“Hey, son. Startin’ early today,” Bobby notes with a chuckle as he sits down next to him.

“Yeah, they canceled the show.” And while that’s certainly true, it’s not the reason why Dean’s sulking at a titty bar.

“Too damn bad. I loved the show!” Bobby tells him enthusiastically. “It was insane. Good insane. It had everything – comedy, drama, heartache, tits, violence, a fucking wedding? There’s something for everyone there.”

“Well, uh, thanks, Bobby. Really appreciate it,” Dean tells him politely. He likes the guy, but he’s not in the mood for chitchat. He’s barely in the mood for naked women, for crying out loud. This is a deep fucking depression.

There are only two promises he’s made to himself: One, he won’t slump like he did after his last divorce. There will be no excessive drinking, which leads to excessively pathetic crying, which leads to a myriad of bad choices out of sheer desperation. Remember that awful dating videotape he made? Yes, there will be no more of that. And then there’s of course two, no drugs – no matter how much he tells himself he wants or fucking needs them. A tiny dot of hope seems to be still dormant in his plastic heart, reminding him that she might come back, and he doesn’t want to risk disappointing her once she does.

Dean has worked fucking hard to be the best version he can be – a version she doesn’t seem to give a shit about. But even he has to admit: He likes himself a lot better now, so he refuses to turn back to old comforts, albeit it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

“You guys interested in doing a floor show?”

Bobby’s words pull him from his reverie. Dean arches a brow at him, straightening a bit in his seat. “What? Here?”

Bobby rolls his eyes. “No, idjit. My wife Ellen has some stakes in a club on the Vegas Strip. She manages the hotel there, too. They’re looking for a new headliner. Just do the exact same show, night after night, 300 miles east. Vegas is where the money is. Headliners make at least 25 grand a week. You think that gym is big? We have to fill 1,100 seats.”

Dean stumps and blinks at the old man a bit baffled. “Well, uh… I’ll think about it. Talk to my partner, the girls…”

Bobby smiles and pats his shoulder as he gets up. “You do that. I’ll call you tomorrow. Now, how about a lap dance? On the house. Can pick any girl that fancies your heartache. You ain’t foolin’ an old man like me.”

Dean chuckles. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks. Think I’m gonna head home and drink myself into a coma there.”

“It’s getting dark soon. How much longer?” Jo’s brown eyes dart to Y/N as she drags her feet over a rocky path. The sun stings less than it did when they started their little hike, but her skin feels perfectly tanned by now and the water is running low.

“Uh, I think it’s supposed to be just up ahead that hill,” Y/N muses and swirls her head around the formation of rocks that all look the same, squinting her eyes into the distance.

Jo sighs, and her stare intensifies. “You’ve been saying that for over an hour. Are we lost?”

“Noooo…” Y/N doesn’t sound convincing and surely doesn’t fool Jo with her reply.

“Alright, gimme the map.”

“I don’t have the map. I gave it to Meg.”

Jo groans and rolls her eyes, throwing her arms up in exasperation.

“What? Meg’s the trail leader. Trail leader gets the map,” Y/N defends her faux pas with reason.

“Great! So we’re fucking lost in the desert,” the blonde huffs.

Y/N chuckles lightly, mostly out of uncomfortableness and panic she tries to hide behind it. “No, there’s a trail marker right over there,” she says, pointing to a pile of rocks. “That looks manmade.”

Jo quirks her brow. “You mean like that pile of rocks? Or that one over there?”

Y/N follows her friend’s gaze, only to realize that there are lots of piles of rock that all look too fucking similar. She purses her lips and scratches her head before resting her arms on her squared-off hips. “I think we’re lost.”

“Yeah.” With an exhaustive sigh, Jo plops down on another pile of rocks and watches as the orange sun dips behind the horizon, shadows of blue slowly crawling across the desert floor and swallowing the light.

Y/N clumsily lowers herself down next to the blonde. Her leg hurts like a bitch, and the desert sand that has wound its way into her cast itches a good deal. Her hands and arms hurt as well from clinging to her crutches all afternoon. Maybe Dean was right, and this was a bad idea, after all. Why does he always have to be fucking right about everything? How can one person be so annoying and frustrating all at once?

“Well, you finally get your wish,” Jo deadpans. “We’re gonna die together.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/N says ruefully and looks at the first stars appearing in the night sky. “Maybe the stars will guide us home.”

Jo just looks at her, unamused and unsurprised. “You’ve never been camping, have you?”

Y/N twitches her shoulders apologetically. “It was only supposed to be a three-mile moderate beginner’s trail to a beautiful vista. It’s what the guidebook said.”

Jo shakes her head and blows a raspberry, hugging her knees. “Joanna Wesson, 27, found dead near a random cluster of rocks that might have looked like a trail marker. She was best known for playing Beth Crowne on the soap opera Paradise Bay before trying to revive her career on an unsuccessful wrestling show. She is survived by her son, Sammy, and her bitter ex-husband Sam with his secretary Jessica.”

“Well, at least you get an obituary,” Y/N quips. “Mine would just read: Soap Star Found Dead Next to Unidentified Woman in National Park.”

Jo even snorts at that. “Well, I’m sure Dean would cut and edit an adorable video tribute with a bunch of B-roll about you at your funeral.”

“Yeah, maybe…” Y/N pensively licks her lips, her heart doing those painful twinges again whenever she thinks of him. “You know yet what you’re gonna do next?”

“No, I-… I think I wanna produce,” Jo announces with determination in her hazel eyes. “I don’t wanna ask permission. I’m so tired of it all. For once, I wanna boss people around and tell ‘em what to do. You know, you were right.”

Baffled, Y/N raises a brow. “About what?”

“Men,” Jo says simply and then spits with fire, “I fucking hate them all. The Crowleys and the Dicks and the Cases and the Sams and the Deans… They make the choices. They dictate the terms… I’m sick of it all. I just hate asking them for anything.”

“Dean’s not so bad,” Y/N says quietly but doesn’t look at Jo. Her heart stings for the millionth time. “I got that role for the Sondheim musical. They called this morning.”

Jo’s lips curve into a soft smile that reaches her eyes. “Congrats. I’m not surprised. You were really fucking good.”

Y/N’s heart flutters a little at the compliment. Tears begin to sting her eyes. She can’t remember the last time Jo was nice to her. “Thank you.”

“You don’t seem happy about it,” Jo notes attentively.

“No, I am,” Y/N manages to choke out, but the sniffling betrays her intentions.

“But?”

Y/N bobs her head, swallowing. “I think I’m ready to talk about it now.”

“Fucking finally,” Jo huffs and rubs her cold and goosebump-littered arms as the heat disappears, the nightly air bringing a fresh breeze.

“Dean told me he loves me,” Y/N confesses. “He’s in love with me.”

“Yeah, no shit. Kinda obvious,” Jo says without a twitch of surprise. “Don’t feel bad for not loving him back. That’s what they want… For us to feel bad about every single fucking thing.”

“That’s just it. I don’t think that’s how I feel,” Y/N replies and lets out a jittery sigh.

Jo’s head turns to her, eyeing her friend up and down. “And how do we feel about that? I can’t tell. It’s too dark to see your face.”

“I-, uh, I don’t exactly know,” Y/N says, which is partially true. She might know how she feels about the green-eyed director, but not how she feels about the situation overall.

Jo purses her lips and nods. “Alright, here’s a couple of options: happy, excited, scared, or… repulsed?”

“Well, uhm… scared,” Y/N admits slowly and gulps. “And excited… happy.”

Jo throws her arms up, shaking her head at the stars. “Jesus fuck! Then what the fuck are we doing here?! Is that why you dragged me all the way to the fucking desert? Because you’re running from your feelings?”

“Kinda. I thought the peaceful quiet and beautiful nature would bring me some much-needed clarity,” Y/N explains.

Jo lifts a brow but tries not to seem too annoyed. She’s accustomed to her friend’s theatrics, after all. “And? Did it?”

“The hike didn’t, but facing death kinda does,” Y/N jokes and begins to laugh a little, Jo soon joining her. When their laughter dies down and the desert sounds of chirping crickets and screeching eagles remain, Y/N exhales a shaky breath. “I’m in love with him, too. He makes me really fucking happy. But… I finally feel like I’m on the right track with my career. I am where I’m supposed to be, you know? I don’t wanna throw that away for a guy.”

“Who says you should?”

“I don’t know… Isn’t that how it goes? You did it,” Y/N argues.

Jo licks her lips and clicks her tongue. “Yeah, ‘cause I chose the wrong fucking guy. Sam made me give up everything I ever loved and told me what to love instead. If you pick the right guy, he won’t make you do that.”

“How do I know it’s the right guy, though?”

Jo smiles softly. “Look, I’m not Dean’s biggest fan, but he’s yours. You know that, right? He’d never hold you back. He adores the ground you walk on. Yes, he’s an asshole with so many fucking issues, and he’s goddamn annoying most of the time, but he’s always had your back, even when he pretended that he didn’t. The guy would probably sell every limb and his fucking soul to see you get everything you ever wanted, Y/N. He wouldn’t be a mistake. You know what would be a mistake? Not trying because you’re too scared of making one. Don’t be fucking stupid.”

Thoughtfully, Y/N nods in agreement and grabs her crutches, rising from her rocky seat. “I need to see him. We have to head back to the city.”

“Finally! Thank fucking God.” With a grunt, Jo jumps to her feet and helps Y/N to steady hers. “Maybe the girls made a fire bright enough, so we can find our way back.”

“Shit.”

“What? They have matches, don’t they? I’m sure these bitches can manage a simple fire, right?” Jo then notices Y/N’s hand curling around her bicep, her grip tightening. And then, Jo glances in the direction of Y/N’s eyes and sees the same damn thing. Her brown eyes widen.

“Mountain lion.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” the blonde hisses and holds on to her friend as well. Both women freeze on the spot. “What-, uh, what should we do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we should throw a stick?”

“A stick?” Jo arches her brow. The big cat snarls and stalks a little closer, making the two women jump back. Their hearts are thumping in their throats at this point. “It’s not a fucking dog, Y/N. It won’t play fetch with you.”

“I know that. How about you come up with a better idea, then?” Y/N snaps through gritted teeth. The lion hisses again, causing the women to tremble down to their bones and hug each other tighter. “I think I should jump it.”

“Are you nuts? No!”

“Look, while it eats me, you can flee. I can’t run with my cast anyways. This is the best option,” Y/N insists, but Jo vehemently shakes her head.

“Fuck no! You’re not sacrificing yourself. We die together. You’re not leaving me behind,” Jo maintains. “I always knew my death would be your fault. Don’t ask me how, but I knew you’d get me killed somehow.”

The wild cat takes another step forward and lowers to the ground as if to get ready to jump its prey – them. But then a few tumbling rocks and breaking twigs draw its attention behind the women. Is there an even bigger cat here?

And suddenly, Meg leaps forward from above them with a loud howl and snarls at the cat, which hastily tucks its tail between its legs and flees down the hill into the dark night. Y/N and Jo expel a big breath of relief and a shaky laugh as they find Meg.

“Meg, what the fuck? Did you just scare away a mountain lion?” Y/N gapes at her friend in utter disbelief.

Meg only shrugs her shoulders. “I hate cats. What are you guys doing out here so long?”

“We got lost. Couldn’t find our way back to camp,” Y/N explains.

Meg furrows her brow and thumbs behind her. “It’s just over there. You guys have been hiking around the same hill for five hours.”

Jo shoots Y/N a small glare of annoyance and blows some loose strands of blonde hair out of her face. “Of course we did…” she mutters.

“We have to get back to LA!” Y/N declares eagerly, trying to climb the small rocky hill with her crutches, foregoing the more suitable pathway.

“Right now? It’s probably 3am when we get to Burbank. Can’t this wait till tomorrow?” Jo says as she attempts to climb after her friend.

“No! I almost died! Twice… Dean needs to know how I feel before I get bit by a rattlesnake, too,” Y/N reiterates passionately.

“It’s probably for the best,” Meg chimes in. “We kinda forgot to pack food. I was about to hunt something for us when I ran into you guys. We have tons of drugs and booze, though.”

Y/N’s knuckles thunder persistently on Dean’s door and conjure up a storm. She has jumped out of Ruby’s limo so fast, the girls are still scrambling out and flooding Dean’s front lawn one by one. They’re loud and obnoxious, but the ringing in her ears makes their chatter barely noticeable.

The lock clicks and the door opens. Dean stands in front of her with weary green eyes, heavy with sleep, tousled bed-head, and a furiously scrunched brow. He half yawns and half grumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Once he feels clearer, minus the soft buzz of whiskey remnants in his bloodstream, he blinks at the young actress in front of him and then tilts his head at the circus show behind her.

God, between his punk rock daughter and this, his neighbors must really hate him.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you guys supposed to be camping in fucking Joshua Tree?” His voice is a gravelly bark. He doesn’t mean to sound so harsh, especially when he just woke from a dream about her, but he’s not as masochistic as he used to be. He’s not a fan of torturing himself with the image of her any longer.

Y/N’s heart somersaults as soon as she sees him, even though his apprehension hurts a bit. “Look, I almost died tonight. We got lost in the desert and then a mountain lion almost fucking ate us.”

Dean licks his lips, nodding. “Yeah, I’m not fucking surprised. Told you Palm Springs is the better option. So, did anyone fucking die? What’s the head count?”

“No one died.”

“Huh. Then why the fuck are you here in the middle of the night, Y/N?” Dean bites, his brow creasing in anger. He can’t even fucking look at her for a second without his heart being on the brink of an explosion. Even saying her goddamn name hurts like needle pricks in an abused vein.

“I–” Y/N swallows thickly. Her drumming heart is stuck in her airway along with her words.

“She’s here to tell you she loves you!” Ruby hollers behind her before several girls tackle her and clasp her mouth shut.

Dean’s heart twists upon the sick joke, his frown deepening. But then he glances at Y/N and thinks he can spot the truth in her eyes. He thought that once before, though, and was terribly wrong.

Y/N gives a shrug of one shoulder with tears brimming in her eyes. A small smile forms on her lips. “What she said.”

Dean nods and drags a hand over his freckled face, feeling the tears well in his eyes, too. Fucking whiskey. Always renders him goddamn sentimental. “Look, uhm, you kinda gotta tell me this yourself. Otherwise, I won’t believe it, okay?”

Upon his request, Y/N takes a deep breath and looks him into his eyes. “I’m in fucking love with you.” As soon as the words are out, she starts crying and the tears fall down her cheeks. Meanwhile, Dean’s heart tumbles into free fall, and he’s sure not even a parachute can stop it. “I’ve never said that to anyone in my life. Is-, is it too late?”

Dean snorts and shakes his head, grinning brighter than the California sun on the longest day of the year. “Fuck no. Even if it had taken you thirty years, I still would’ve taken you back. That’s kinda how once-in-a-lifetime love works, sweetheart.”

“Okay. Sounds like a good movie,” Y/N jokes between her tears, her fingers tingling to touch him.

“Yeah, best one there is.”

His hands grab hold of her and pull her into his embrace. He claims her lips, Y/N eagerly parting her mouth as his tongue slips between. The kiss is rushed and fervent and perfectly desperate. They’re both so gone they can’t even hear the girls cheering and applauding them in the background.

“You’re gonna come inside?” Dean asks in a murmur against her lips, barely letting her breath.

“Uhm…”

“Hey, Lothario, you got space for us, too?” Cassie shouts with a wide smirk.

“Yeah, we’re fucking starving,” Ruby adds with an impatiently arched brow.

“We, uh, forgot to pack food,” Y/N explains with a chuckle.

Dean sighs and smiles knowingly. “Of course you did.” He then turns to the women waiting on his lawn. “Alright, get in. I’ll order some pizzas.”

The women then proceed to brush past the couple and filter into Dean’s house. Missouri pinches his cheeks, Ruby pats his head, Cassie fist-bumps him and sends Y/N a flirty wink, Meg tousles his hair, Charlie shrugs apologetically, and Jo offers an annoyed eye roll.

“I’m never gonna get rid of them, am I?” Dean looks down at her and tightens his jaw, even when a grin is visible.

“No, I’m afraid not. It’s like you’ve adopted twelve strays. One of which actually turned out to be your long-lost puppy. They’re gonna be here until you die and then eat your corpse,” Y/N quips.

“Funny.” Dean clicks his tongue, his dimples itching to form a grin.

“Oooo! Let’s call the guys!” he hears Ruby exclaim from inside his living room. “It’s a fucking wrap party at the boss’ house!”

“No! No party! Guys, c’mon!” Dean storms inside after them, leaving Y/N giggling on his doorstep.

“Let’s call Garth, Kevin, and Benny!” Donna suggests, ignoring his protests. It’s like they can’t fucking hear him.

“I’ll call my husband, too!” Bela adds and eagerly dials Cas’ number on his landline.

“Oh, right, Cas…” Dean mutters with an eye roll as he remembers the impromptu wedding. “No fucking Benny!”

Y/N joins his side and rubs his back in comfort as he watches his house sink into female doom. “You okay?”

The deep trenches in his brow flatten into soft valleys as his green eyes lock on her. He dips his head and pulls her to his lips, kissing her slow and reverently. “Better.” He smirks. “Just gonna have to sage the whole house tomorrow.”

That earns him a playful slap on his chest. He laughs and pulls her closer with an arm around her waist.

“Hey, uh, speaking of party…” Dean mumbles before he addresses the whole room, grabbing their attention with an authoritative clear of his throat. He’s still got it. “You guys wanna do shows in Vegas?”

“What?!”

Dean’s eyes find Y/N’s gaping face. He chuckles a little. “Yeah, uh, Bobby offered me a deal. There’s nothing in the network contract about live shows. I already went over it with Cas this afternoon. It pays well, too. You guys interested? It’s not like any of you have actual jobs lined up, right?”

Y/N closes her mouth. “I got that Sondheim musical in San Diego. It’s a workshop production, but if it goes well, it could go all the way to Broadway. I could end up in New York.”

“Good,” Dean says and smirks. “You’re fucking fired.”

“WHAT?!” Y/N’s mouth falls open again. “You said you’d never fire me!”

“Yeah, well, this is for your own good,” Dean reasons. “You think I’m gonna let you quit Sondheim for some stupid wrestling show in Vegas? You gotta be fucking nuts! This is what you fucking wanted. Don’t make me kick your stupid ass onto that stage. It’s gonna look embarrassing for you again…”

Y/N bites her lips to conceal her grin. Her eyes meet Jo’s, who mouths ‘I told you so’ at her. “Thank you,” she tells Dean and kisses his cheek. He furrows his brow at her in suspicion. “But rehearsals don’t start until June. Still gonna need a job till then.”

“Oh.” Dean’s brow shoots up in realization. “The June in nine months?”

“Yeah, the June in nine months,” Y/N confirms with a laugh.

“Whoops. Well, consider yourself rehired till June, then,” Dean relents.

“So, if I ever have to work in New York–”

“Then we’ll go to New York. Big fucking whoop-dee-doo. You know I hate LA.”

Y/N giggles, nodding. “What would you do in New York?”

“Same I do here, just on a little balcony instead of a backyard. I sit with my typewriter by a table and smoke and drink,” Dean retorts. “I’ve actually been working on a new script. I’m moving away from horror and into Western.”

“Got inspired by the motel’s wallpaper, huh?” Y/N teases. “What’s it about?”

“Father-daughter storyline. Thought I’d give that a shot…”

1990, 5 years later…

“Dean! We’re gonna be late!” Y/N reminds him and holds the blindfold in place over her eyes as he drags her somewhere by the hand. Her heels can barely keep up with his fast pace. “You know, check-in at LAX is the worst. Our flight departs in two hours. I’m nominated, Dean! I can’t reschedule! The girls are all flying in, too…”

“I know! I’m fucking hurrying, okay?” Dean assures. However, she can hear the stress and tension in his gravelly voice. He then suddenly halts and positions her into place by her shoulders before carefully taking off the blindfold. “Alright, here we are.”

Y/N blinks her eyes open and recognizes blurry shapes of purple and gold. She lifts an eyebrow as ornaments on the walls and a big stage come into view as well. “The Aztec porno theater?”

“Mayan,” Dean corrects her and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he gets down in front of her on one knee and tries to fumble out the too-big ring box from his too-tiny suit jacket pocket. “Son of a bitch!”

“Dean, wait!” Y/N stops his endeavor with raised palms, her eyebrows meeting her hairline when she realizes what he’s about to do.

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N!” Dean frowns in frustration and rises to his feet with a huff and a shaking head. “I know you’re against marriage and the patriarchy and all that bullshit, but c’mon… We’ve been dating for five years. We have a good thing going, right?”

After spending a whole year in beautiful Las Vegas – the Paris of Nevada – the two of them moved to New York. Dean sold his house in Burbank and opted for a Brooklyn apartment instead. Claire also studied film at NYU before she graduated last Spring. But every few months, the couple finds themselves back in LA – for interviews, for business, for friends.

“Dean–”

“No! You know me. I’d make a great fucking husband. You love it when I make reporters laugh on the red carpet. I’m an awesome trophy husband, okay?”

“DEAN!”

“WHAT?!”

Why the fuck is she angry now? He should be the one that’s angry. She’s turning down the best opportunity of her life. She should consider herself lucky he wants to spend the rest of his life with her. He even had an amazing speech prepared to knock her right off her feet, but does he get to say it now? How he wanted to grow fucking old together and support each other? How he wanted to marry her all those years ago when she told him she was pregnant? Nope...

“I’m fucking pregnant!”

Dean blinks at her in confusion before his eyes begin to wander around the familiar theater. Did he take something? Drink too much? Did he actually travel through time or is this a weird fever dream on his deathbed?

“What’s it with you and this theater? And why do you always yell that?”

“Because you never listen.” Y/N giggles and bites her lower lip. “And I’ll gladly marry you if that’s what you were going for. I just figured I’d tell you before in case you wanna change your mind and bail.”

“Why the fuck would I bail?” Dean’s brows knit together, close to offense.

She shrugs and holds up her palms in surrender. “I don’t know! I didn’t want you to feel trapped.”

“Why? Isn’t it mine?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, a grin twitching on her pink lips as she slaps his arm. “Yes, of course it’s yours.”

“And you’re keeping it? You sure?” Dean throws her a quizzical look.

Her brow furrows. “Why, you aren’t?”

“No, I am!” he assures her swiftly, realizing how it sounded. “Hell yeah, I want another kid! You know I always wanted to make up for missing out on Claire so much! I finally get to change a diaper, go to the park, or the fucking zoo while my wife works… It’ll be so fun!”

Y/N tries to stifle her laugh. He seems happy, judging by the joyful glint in his green eyes. They resemble sparkling emeralds.

“But are you sure, y' know?” Dean checks with a deep look into her eyes. “I mean, I do what I can to support you and keep the thing alive in your absence, but you know you’re still gonna be benched for a couple of months, right? I’m not a fucking seahorse.”

Y/N laughs a little at that. “I know. I’m fine with sitting on the bench for a little while. I’m kinda exhausted. I did two Broadway musicals almost back to back, three off-Broadway shows, all the workshops and the rehearsals and Matinees and the dancing and the singing… Not to mention I’m nominated for a fucking Tony tonight,” she says and is close to out of breath by the time she finishes her list of accomplishments.

“Which you’re gonna win,” Dean reassures her persistently. He’s been telling her since the nominations were announced (and even before that when he first saw her in the role on the first night).

“We’ll see,” she brushes him off, although her blushed cheeks betray her words. In her heart, she hopes so as well. “Anyways, I could use the break,” she admits and takes his hands in hers, interlacing their fingers. She places a loving kiss on his lips. “Right time, right guy, right baby,” she says, smiling.

Dean squeezes her hand happily and pulls her to his lips for a searing kiss. “So, where did we land on that whole marriage thing?”

“See? You’re never listening,” she teases, laughing. “Yes, I’ll marry you. Under one condition…”

Dean smirks. “I've had the same exact thought – Vegas. It’s perfect!”

“What, no! I don’t wanna get married in filthy Vegas, you dork!” Y/N frowns playfully, shaking her head. “I wanna get married in Nebraska. I want my dad to marry us."

Dean’s brow creases. He chuckles in amusement. “What, like a shotgun wedding? Could be fun… Pastor marries pregnant daughter to older man. Is this gonna make headlines in the townie paper?”

Y/N snorts, shaking her head at him. “No, it’s a shotgun wedding. It’s very common,” she deadpans.

“I’ve never met your parents,” Dean realizes then. “Why have I never met your parents? It’s weird they never come visit you,” he ponders.

“Oh no, they do,” Y/N tells him, pursing her lips as she twirls her hair around her finger. “They’ve seen me both in Into The Woods and Gypsy.”

“Really, when?” Dean narrows his eyes at her.

“Whenever you were in LA, visiting Claire,” Y/N admits ruefully. She never told them she was dating the director, not sure if they’d approve – not that she gives a shit, but she wanted to spare herself all the sermons and the exploring of the Sunday school dating pool. Whenever they asked who owned the men’s clothes in her apartment, she lied and said she had a gay-but-in-the-closet roommate. “But you can meet them now,” she promises with a reassuring smile on her lips. Thank God she’s an excellent, Tony-nominated actress. “I’m sure they learn to love you just like I did.”

“Learn to?”

“I love you.” Y/N smiles mischievously and shuts up any further comments by kissing him.

Dean grins and relents with a blissful sigh. “I love you, too.”

THE END 🌅

Thank you all so much for reading and making me laugh with your comments and screams throughout! 🤍

Are we done with these two for good? Probably not. I've left gaps and doors open on purpose, so I'm sure they'll make an appearance again at some point in the future 😉

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70

[narcissistshandler]

𝙋𝙇𝙀𝘼𝙎𝙐𝙍𝙀 𝙏𝙊 𝙄𝙉𝙎𝘼𝙉𝙄𝙏𝙔

✧ 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. m!reader x hobie brown

✧ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. bottom!hobie, anal beads and slight overstimulation

✧ 𝖠/𝖭. ~nothing~

A round bead is gently pulled out, so slowly that Hobie feels the aching tension in his thighs as his lubricated hole stretches, opening slowly until the silicone object can be released with an audible wet pop.

He takes a deep breath, trying to control his rapid breathing as your thumb grazes the tightly contracted, muscle pulsing. His legs tremble where they are on top of each other, lying sideways on the bed as you take your time playing with his body. Hobie had frantically agreed when you asked to use an anal bead on him and fidgeted every day afterward, waiting for the toy to arrive so you could use it. Now, with his cock softened, a wet spot growing on the mattress after three excruciating orgasms, and you not looking the least bit bored, Hobie was already considering hiding the toy, despite knowing deep down that it was exhaustion talking and that he would agree no matter what if you wanted to do it again; extract every drop of pleasure from him until there was nothing left.

He couldn't say no to you, he didn't even know if he wanted to.

His now-empty hole closed down into nothingness and when the smallest ball, the one it took you a full five minutes to get out of him, crawled back in, his breath stuttered, hips immediately pulling back away. The first bead was the smallest, so small it would go in even without proper preparation, yet shock shook his body, hyperaware of the new weight inside him.

Hobie gripped the sheets, letting your free hand hold his waist while the other placed the remaining beads inside, one after the other, pausing only when the size increased towards the end and his breathing began to quicken.

The weight swelled inside him, making him feel full and dizzy, unable to notice anything but the spheres stretching his hole, pressing against each other and hitting his prostate squarely each time a shudder shuddered through his body. Saliva trickled down his chin, legs now numb as tingles ran across his skin.

Silicone tried to work its way into him, forcing his hole open again. The last sphere, the one that was almost the size of your fist and that you couldn't get inside him before, no matter how hard you tried. The mere realization had him shivering, hole opening and closing, fighting the strain, stomach clenching in anticipation. You didn't look close to giving up, cold lube being squirted against him, onto the toy and onto the sheet, hand holding his waist having come down to cup one of his ass cheeks, thumb tugging at his taut hole.

Hobie was shaking like a leaf, stammering gibberish and groaning loudly. “Fuck- I, fuck.”

“Come on, my love. Just one more." You tried to coax, leaving kisses wherever you could reach his burning skin. But he couldn't, even if you begged.

“You're going to kill me,” Hobie strangled through a dry throat, the words clawing all the way out, a laugh that was purely manic muted by the time it reached his mouth.

“It will feel good, I promise. Take a deep breath for me and relax.”

Against every rational part of his body screaming to the contrary, Hobie did his best to listen to you, after all, he wanted to be good to you, he wanted to please you. You push in slowly, the cold silicone stretching the edge of it, slowly, slowly, slowly, so damn slowly Hobie feels the sphere slide inward in his spine, pushing the others impossibly further in, demanding to fit in. Its walls immediately tighten against the new intrusion, the hole barely closing when the last bead finally slides in and fills it even more, stretching it beyond its limit. Hobie's eyes roll back, vision blurred by tears as an orgasm rips through his body, rising through his feet, building in his stomach, slamming against his spine.

Darkness flickers behind his eyes and Hobie thinks he might have passed out for a few seconds when he comes back to, shivering, muscles clenched so hard it hurts and sensitive cock now half-hard dribbling thin translucent strips of cum onto the mattress.

“That was good, yes? Now we just have to get it out.” Your voice is ghosted close to his ear, your hands roaming his waist and thighs.

Hobie gasps for air, thinking he might be dancing on the edge of insanity, "Give me a... minute."

[lets-try-some-writing]

Implications

Jazz liked to think he was pretty smart and capable of standing his ground. He'd been a spy for almost every big political player, gotten involved with the army, and messed around in pretty much every under the table association. When Orion asked him to join up and support the war effort, Jazz saw no reason to decline. He knew his friend... until he didn't.

Since the new guy came in, Jazz decided he values his life more than honesty.

Previous part here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Jazz was always a mech who lived by the rule of knowing everything so that he could act in response to anything. He liked to present himself as if he were ignorant or uncaring of the situation through the use of cheerful tones, but that was largely just to blend in. He was no fool. He knew the moment Orion was named Prime that things were going to go to slag. So he prepared, he cleared his history, pulled up his contracts, and got ready to fight or flee. He only chose to stay because Orion asked him to. How could he ever say no to his dear friend? Especially when peace seemed to be somewhere on the horizon in light of agreeable peace treaties beginning to form in spite of the Senate's efforts to continue the war.

Things were looking up despite the fact that the war still raged. There was light at the end of the tunnel, and Orion even seemed to be truly hopeful. But of course, that was when everything had to fall apart. Jazz was dutiful in his work, but someone was even better than he was at breaking and entering. How else would Orion have been stolen from his berth without so much as a whiff of where he had vanished to? The Autobots of course panicked, Ultra Magnus did what he could to keep the army in line, and the Decepticons pushed their advantage in light of Orion's disappearance. Jazz did all he could to hunt down his missing leader and friend, but to no avail. Wherever Orion was, he had completely dropped off the map.

Then Orion came back and promptly fell to pieces. Jazz was hardly able to see his friend before he was shipped off to containment to ensure whatever was happening to him didn't spread. But what Jazz saw was enough for him to know that Orion was not well... and he likely wouldn't be ever again. He was only able to sneak in to see Orion a few times, but that was all he needed.

"Hey Rion... are you in there buddy?"

"Jazz? Are you here with us?"

"Yeah I'm here. Is there somebody else in the room I should know about?"

"The voice... it speaks, questioning, asking. It wants answers. I try to answer, but I am not fast enough. It takes what I don't tell it."

"Is the voice what is making you like this?"

"I... do not know. It is curious, callous. It wants something, it wants all of me. But it does not seem to be malicious."

"Can we get rid of it?"

"No. It is already too late. It is here, burrowed deep. We will both die if you try."

"There's gotta be something we can do Rion. I am not letting you die here."

"There is... no choice. Either it lives, or we both die. It is too deep, too close to finishing its work. It does not have many questions left..."

"..."

"Once the questions end, it will have no need of me... I don't want to die in this room, alone with its voice in my mind."

"..."

"When it is time... will you let me die out of this place?"

"Yeah... I can do that Rion. I can do that."

Jazz came a few more times over the following deca-cycles. He snuck in through the vents in the dead of most mecha's recharge cycles and sat by Orion's side as his friend deteriorated. He got thinner, sickly, and more lifeless with every passing cycle. Eventually he stopped being able to talk much, only murmuring about how much it hurt. Jazz did make attempts to understand what exactly was afflicting his friend, if only so that he might have some comfort when Orion did offline. He never got anything of note aside from the pain being contributed to 'the voice'. It reached a breaking point when Orion sat up for the first time on the edge of his berth, his optics unfocused and fluid dripping from his vents.

Jazz knew what he needed to do. He had a promise to keep.

Without informing anyone, he used what authority he had to have the facility cleared. At that point, he gently took Orion's stick thin servo in his own and laced their digits together. No words were spoken as he guided his unsteady friend through hallways and rooms until they exited the bunker Orion was being kept in. They left Autobot territory and Jazz guided Orion toward the only place he could think of where his leader would possibly appreciate his final resting place to be. Jazz had every intention of guiding Orion deep into the last standing spire forest and remaining nearby so that the former archivist could rest in peace. However halfway through the journey, Orion stopped, and for the first time in deca-cycles, he seemed focused.

"Rion?"

"I don't want you to watch. I don't want you to see what we will become."

"I am your friend, Rion. I'm not about to leave you alone out here. You deserve to have someone nearby when-"

"Please. I do not wish for you to see the voice finish its work."

Jazz was unable to object as Orion wobbled past him, dragging himself in the general direction of the forest. Jazz grieved, but he did not show it as he stayed put, watching Orion's spark signature on his radar and waiting for it to go out. The moment it did, he allowed himself a klik to lament before he gathered himself and returned to the Autobots. He took his time, and when he arrived, he and the others who loved their leader grieved together. It was a rough few stellar cycles, but Ultra Magnus kept the army together and the Decepticons were even being somewhat amicable in ongoing peace arrangements. The loss of Orion Pax was still brutal and ached horribly, but Jazz, Ratchet, and the others were finally beginning to get themselves together again when someone far too familiar looking crossed the border.

Whoever it was looked like Orion if he were pumped full of protomatter and cranked up on battle protocols. The mech was huge and looked deadly even from a distance. Yet, he had Orion's face, his colors, and his voice. The mech came forward and called himself Optimus Prime, quickly presenting the Matrix of leadership. He explained in perfect almost clinical Iaconian that the reason he was presumed dead was due to the Matrix reforging him. He tried to write all of the oddities off as the Matrix doing its work and the process of being remade taking a great deal out of him, hence his slow arrival. The Autobots as a whole were skeptical, but the Matrix combined with the newcomer's almost immediate skill and his memory which matched Orion's had them accepting him quickly.

Jazz was not among that number.

He saw Orion's state, he escorted Orion to the middle of nowhere to die for Primus's sake. There was no way Orion hauled himself down to Primus's core to get the Matrix. It was impossible, not to mention the tallest tale Jazz had ever heard. The results and spectacular leadership the Prime presented were undeniable, but Jazz knew that whoever he was... he was not Orion. Optimus was quick to pick up on that fact, and the moment the Prime realized that Jazz, Ratchet, and a few select others did not fully buy his story, he became... unsettling. He held his persona with godly expertise around all others, but with Jazz and Ratchet, the two who doubted... he seemed to let himself go a bit. At first it was small, but those things grew larger with time.

Optimus's ability to blend in matched that of a master spy. He always performed perfectly in public or any area that was not checked for security by the Prime himself. He was dutiful, always keeping a kind smile or a stern expression plastered on his stolen face. His voice never wavered and he forever held himself with a complete air of calm... one that felt so fake to Jazz as to almost be suffocating. Optimus's EM field was chilled, static in a way. There was emotion there, but it was strange, unreadable, and largely left those who bothered to feel it on edge. Most chalked it up to Optimus being a Prime, but Jazz knew better. It certainly did not ease Jazz at all when Optimus purposefully extended his field when they were together. It almost felt like he was being tested with how closely Optimus watched him during those moments.

There was also the matter of how the Prime held himself. He was highly calculating, so much so that Jazz doubted he had any actual emotion in him at all. The Prime moved with determination wherever he went, but his motives were totally alien. Every action was carefully selected, and poor responses to things Optimus did always had the Prime adapting at record speed. It did not take much for the Autobots to accept him, especially when Optimus led them to war. But of course, around Jazz and Ratchet, Optimus purposefully did things that should have been beyond the bounds of normal. He twisted in ways which shouldn't have been possible just to gauge their reactions. He would poke and prod, clawing at their plating to watch their reactions. There was always a new and somewhat malicious test for him to run whenever he returned from war. Jazz came back to find Ratchet warding off the Prime with a scalpel once. And there was even an occasion were Optimus purposefully dug a blade into Jazz's leg just to watch him try to act normal around the others.

No one else suffered Optimus's abuse. No one else had to deal with the oddities. Outside of Ratchet and Jazz, Optimus was the perfect leader they needed. Well, mostly. Megatron seemed to know that Optimus was no Orion Pax, and the warlord threw away any idea relating to peace in response. He was dead set on killing the Prime, and honestly, Jazz couldn't blame him. He didn't know what Optimus was, but he most certainly was not any brand of Cybertronian Jazz was familiar with. But whatever the case, things were tolerable, and Optimus seemed to have some goal that aligned with Cybertron being brought to a peaceful state. So Jazz let him be and followed orders.

Then Optimus brought back a sparkling.

It was so out of left field that he and Ratchet were flabbergasted by the whole thing. More so when they took one look at the sparkling and knew he was just. like. Optimus. The little one acted just like his Sire for his first few vorns of life, always listening, always watching. It was frightening for Jazz to walk in to see Optimus glaring at Bumblebee with what almost seemed to be anger or hatred. Then whenever Bee cried, Optimus would tell him to quiet and Bee would stop immediately. It was terrifying to witness, even more so when Optimus brought back suspicious vials for Bee to feed from and began taking the sparkling out to the battlefield to do things Jazz did not want to know about. Optimus was focused on his creation to the point of attention falling away from Jazz and Ratchet nearly entirely. It was a small mercy, but it hurt to watch Bumblebee begin to act like a regular Cybertronian and express genuine emotions only to then suffer Optimus's treatment. The Prime treated his sparkling horribly by any standard.

Always uttering angered words, always glaring, never offering physical affection or words of affirmation, never so much as praising Bumblebee for performing well. It was as if Bumblebee was expected to succeed. Not only that, but the few times Bumblebee acted out of sorts, Optimus would beat or otherwise hurt the poor youngling until he returned to himself. More than once Ratchet did his best to stand up to the Prime in Bumblebee's defense. But Ratchet did not see the coldness in Bee's optics that Jazz did. Bumblebee was most certainly more normal than his Sire and far less monstrous, but he was still Optimus's sparkling. He never cried at the abuse, he never even seemed upset about it. The youngling accepted it all with grace, and that seemed to be what caused Ratchet to break.

The medic tolerated Optimus for his work, but seeing Bee hurt so often seemed to be a sore spot for Ratchet. Eventually, he tried to take Bee away. Jazz watched it all but did nothing to intervene. It was not his place, and he had long ago decided he enjoyed living. That belief was only confirmed when Optimus dropped out of the fragging celling as Ratchet tried to grab Bee and flee. Jazz did not stay to watch, but his horror only grew when Ratchet began to get sick mere cycles later.

When they locked optics, they both knew. Green fluid, voices in the processing units... Whatever had been done to Orion was now being inflicted on Ratchet. The medic couldn't even end his own life, not with Optimus hovering around him at all times under the guise of 'caring for his oldest friend'. Even Bee did not seem concerned. If anything, Bumblebee looked happy with every passing cycle. Still, Jazz lingered, hoping beyond hope that Optimus wasn't as bad as he seemed to be. That somehow this was all just a bad situation that would come to an end... it had to... right?

It did not.

Six stellar cycles after it began, Ratchet vanished off the face of Cybertron while the sickness was at its worst. Jazz hunted him down, but he wished he hadn't. The thing that he saw barely looked like Ratchet as it fed on raw energon like an animal. Scattered plating and organs were strewn about, and Bee eagerly seemed to be bringing over more crystals for the thing to consume Standing beside it was the one and only Optimus Prime who observed with what could have been glee as the thing's mandibles crushed through crystalized energon shards. That was when Jazz knew.

These were monsters. Optimus Prime was not the only one, and he had proven he could spread. It didn't matter what cause he fought for or how good a Prime he was. This was unnatural. And so Jazz did the only thing he could think of. He ran toward the one mech on the planet who knew what Optimus was and hated him enough to possibly put him down.

He ran to Megatron.

"MEGATRON! This is Jazz! Special operations agent for the Autobots! I need immediate evac!"

"Why would I ever help and Autobot?"

"It's Optimus! He's SPREADING!"

"Soundwave, get that mech on board the Nemesis, no matter the cost!"

If there was one mech who could save their kind from whatever Optimus was, it would be Megatron. Jazz had to believe that Megatron could.

Ratchet was already gone. How many more would follow?

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I made my housemates sign a cleaning chart/rota/contract thing?

So I (20F) am a student and while it's currently the summer, I am going to be living with most of the same people I lived with last year when school starts again in Sept. These are friend A (20M), friend B (20M) and friend C (23M). Friend B's girlfriend (21F) lived with us last year, but in the coming year she will be living in the same building as us but not the same flat. She will probably be an unofficial 5th housemate.

Last year there were some issues, particularly in the cleaning department. The only two people who actually clean with any kind of regularity and competency are me and A. I've been a paid cleaner before and A works in a kitchen. The problem has been that B and C will be like "I'll do it later" then forget about it. I'm not a neat freak, I'm not bothered about carpets being hoovered at a particular time or dusting being done at a particular time. I do care about having kitchens and bathrooms that aren't biohazards. B and C will leave the kitchen and bathrooms until they start growing their own microbiomes before they'll do anything without prompting. I don't want to be some helicopter housemate standing over adult men being like "time to wash the dishes" but I am running out of options.

A and I both didn't stay in our uni town over the Easter break, and when we returned there was a sink full of orange mould waiting for us. This pissed me off more than usual because I had given the kitchen a very deep clean before I left and they just let it get to that state again, and their excuse was "Well we didn't really use the kitchen we had takeaways" but the evidence spoke for itself. I ended up deep cleaning the kitchen again, and A ended up deep cleaning the bathroom.

We tried a normal rota last year, but B and C half assed their stuff. Bins (in a house that had 7 people in it, so filled very quickly) would be left to pile out of the bin into some leaning tower of trash before they would take them out, but it was "in the deadline" so we couldnt complain without looking unreasonable. Neither of them seem to understand that you need to pick things up and clean under them too to have a clean space (wiping around cups left in the kitchen instead of like...washing them), and B's girlfriend tried to argue we didn't need to replace our broken hoover because we "didn't need one" and like I'm not that particular about carpets but come on? (This also wasn't a money thing, she's got rich parents who she has a good relationship with). A and I ended up having to do the same chore after them so that it was done to a competent standard where we wouldn't get ill.

A thinks they've both never had to clean up after themselves before and genuinely don't understand what it takes to live in a hygienic environment. I think it's weaponised incompetence. B's girlfriend had the nerve to say last term "going home really puts into perspective how gross this house is in comparison" and it took all my strength not to snap that if certain people got of their arses and did something we might actually have a sanitary house.

Anyway, my idea I might be the asshole about it that I think a good motivating factor might be money. My idea is if you dont do your chore/do it poorly, and someone else has to do it again after you, you have to pay them national minimum wage for their time you wasted. Currently NMW is £10.42 an hour. I don't actually want them to pay me and A, I want them to be motivated enough in not wanting to spend that money to be a competent housemate and clean the fucking kitchen. I sense though, that it might be too aggressive an action to take with people I'm going to be living with till next July.

Would that make me an asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[azucarmorena97]

Money Ties (Jungkook Love Story || Pt.11)

Pt.10 || Pt.12

Your parents have worked hard to get to the top and have made sure to teach you everything you need to know to be successful in this business: from tough but lucrative financial decisions, down to the right ball gown for any given banquet. A promising and extravagant future awaits you- that is, if you agree to one teensy detail...

Son of Mr.Jeon Sr. and heir to June Company, Jeon Jungkook is an immature playboy with nothing to offer a woman but good looks and a crap ton of money, and he stands to inherit much MUCH more, so long as you both enter into the arranged marriage contract that was drawn up before the pair of you were even born.

You're more than willing to try, but you're not sure you'll be able to stand each other long enough to inherit a single penny...

Series Warnings: There will be smut in the near future and I will label those chapters as such. As I say before most of my pieces- I do not endorse any themes, ideas, or behaviors in this series. This is all purely fiction/fantasy! Feel free to inbox me suggestions/ideas/what you'd like to see in this series and I'll see what I can do! Enjoy <3

Recap: Suddenly, it's as though the world was set to slow motion; Frame by frame, you watch as Jungkook lifts your veil, the last barrier between you and destiny.

He wraps his arm around your waist and brings you closer to him until your faces are centimeters apart, "To the ride," He whispers, drawing back to the night where you both shared a toast at the bar. "To the ride."

His lips collide with yours and eventually, you don't know where you end and he begins- as now, and forevermore, you are but one flesh.

When he pulls away, he looks at you under hooded eyes, lashes barely exposing his beautiful brown irises. You'd give anything to stay like this...

But of course, it comes time for the both of you to turn to everyone: friends, family, and receive their love and cheers. He grabs your hand and then the both of you are running out of the ballroom, the crowds muted by the double doors closing behind the both of you.

For a moment, you and him are alone again, as the photographers haven't made their way out to take your photos.

"You look so beautiful..." He says, his own cheeks blushing slightly. "Thanks...They-they found a dress," You say, adjusting your shoulder straps nervously, feeling quite shy yourself under his gaze.

"I can see..." He can't take his eyes off of you, meanwhile, you're looking everywhere else but at him; you might just burst if you do.

Finally, the photographer comes out and leads you both out to the courtyard of the hotel; the perfect spot for photos. There's a tall fence around the perimeter of the courtyard, along with a tall hedge full of beautiful flowers. You do, however, spot a few cameras being held high on the other side of the fence in order to capture a few lucky pictures of your groom. "Are those...paparazzi?" You ask. "Yeah...a lot of people really care about our wedding." "I can see."

It does make you a tad uncomfortable, but you try to shake it off; this is something you'll have to get used to. Back home, no one really recognizes you- although, you do typically keep a pretty low profile. Jungkook, on the other hand, has a slew of loyal followers ranging in the thousands- as confirmed by his social media.

"Okay, Mr.Jeon, can we get one of you hugging her?" The photographer asks. Without hesitation, Jungkook pulls you in from your waist, pressing you close to himself. You blush, not used to such public displays of affection...not used to affection very much at all, considering you've never had a boyfriend. This is gonna take some getting used to.

"Mrs.Jeon, a little more to the left."

That's gonna take some getting used to, too.

"Ah! Mr. and Mrs.Jeon!" B/f/n's voice travels over to the both of you as the bridesmaids and groomsmen all trail behind her into the courtyard.

"Shut up," You laugh. "My man!" One of the groomsmen come up to Jungkook and hugs him, "I'm happy for you- for the both of yo." He turns to you and extends his hand for you to shake.

"Thanks, uhm...?" "I'm sorry, I know we haven't formally met you. I'm Felix," He says with a sweet smile. He's quite handsome, as is typical for Jungkook's friends. "I'm Y/n," You say with a slight bow.

"That's Mrs.Jeon to you," Jungkook cuts back in, wrapping his arm around your bare shoulders, though his smile is playful.

Suddenly, Jungkook is abruptly pulled of of you, "Kookie! I'm so happy for you!" Lisa exclaims, throwing herself on him before he gets a chance to react. He doesn't hug her back, just keeps his arms open, "Lisa- I- uhm, thanks."

She pulls away slightly, though she doesn't let him go, "Look at you all grown up and mature now."

You didn't think she'd stoop so low, but here she is blatantly flirting with him in front of you and everyone else. "Yeah...thanks," Jungkook says, clearly uncomfortable. He gently pulls her off of himself, which is clearly a move she didn't expect from him because she immediately goes into clean-up mode, "And you- you make the most beautiful bride, Y/n!"

"Thanks." You can't even be bothered to say anymore than that because if you do, these cameras are gonna catch you pummeling her into the ground in your wedding dress.

"Anyway!" B/f/n cuts into the conversation, emphasizing how awkward the interaction is, "Time for pictures!"

And, as though someone has flipped a switch, everyone is back to their excitement and merriment.

Except, of course, Lisa.

All things considered, the time spent taking pictures was a breeze. Everyone got their chance to pose with you and Jungkook, and you're sure even the paparazzi must've gotten a few good shots.

Now, you're all standing outside of the dining hall waiting to be announced upon entry. Pair by pair, each bridesmaid and goormsman walks in until it's only you and Jungkook.

"Ready?" He asks, a smile on his face as he takes a deep breath. You nod, "Ready."

"And now, I'd like to present, for the first time ever as man and wife, Mr. and Mrs.Jeon!"

You and Jungkook enter into a room teeming with cheers and shouts, a few tables being banged on in excitement.

Of course, unable to resist the applause, Jungkook take an exaggerated bow and then pulls your hand straight up in the air in triumph before leading you to the table where all your court is already sat, with two large empty seats in the middle, saved for the both of you.

Slowly, guests come up to congratulate you both personally, their smiles genuine and warm. All this time you spent dreading your wedding day; you never thought you'd feel so at peace in your new role- of course, it's only been about an hour and a half.

You spot Namjoon walking around from table to table recording people, "Wanna say a few words to the bride and groom?" He looks quite happy for being "Jungkook's babysitter", as he'd put it that night at Jungkook's birthday party. You chuckle. "Namjoon's funny, isn't he?" Jungkook asks, as though he's able to read your mind. "Yeah...very much so." "You know he's totally in love with B/f/n, right?" "Totally." You watch as B/f/n follows him around with a small ring light.

Soon, people start making their way to the dance floor, having had their fill of food and drinks. "Come dance with us, Mr. and Mrs.Jeon," B/f/n says, pulling on your wrist. You look at Jungkook who is aggressively noding his head, "Oh, absolutely." He puts his drink down and then grabs your other wrist, the both of them leading to the dancefloor with the rest of your court- except Lisa, who you spotted only moments ago, seething, sitting at a table with Rose, arms crossed.

You all dance together in a cluster on the dance floor, Jungkook and Felix are clowns, of course, and soon they're pulling their pant legs up so they can get in a "twerking stance." "They're a little too good at this," B/f/n laughs, "Oh, you should see him twerk on a door," Namjoon cuts in, bringing his drink up to his lips as he sways slightly. Jungkook looks at Namjoon, clearly already a little buzzed and he puts his hands square on Namjoon's shoulders, "You were the best ring bearer that ever...beared rings." "And you were the best groom that ever...Yeah, let me not finish that sentence." "Aaaay! The wedding man!" You all turn to see Jin coming up and throwing his arm on Jungkook's shoulders, "You sly devil, how'd you manage to nab a girl this fine," He says, motioning to you. Jungkook's tone gets immediately more serious, "Yo, that's my wife." "Of course, of course. I'm sorry- you know how I get when I get a few drinks in me. I say whetever comes to mind." "Oh, we know." Namjoon rolls his eyes. Jin says, "I'm so glad there was a wedding after all." "The wedding was never off, dweeb," Namjoon looks annoyed whenever he has to interact with Jin- I wonder if it's because he's almost always intoxicated. Jin furrows his brows, "I know, I meant after the whole dress thing." You all look at each other in confusion, "What about my dress?" You ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

As far as you know, your mom and B/f/n didn't tell anyone about the dress except Jungkook and it was right before the ceremony. The dress you're wearing now is one they'd previously considered at the bridal shop weeks ago that they'd held on to in case you didn't like the first one. How the hell did this bozo know anything about your dress?

Unless...

"Oh- uhm, your dress? I- I didn't mean to say that," Jin's eyes widen and he starts trying to backtrack. Jungkook gets in his face and takes Jin's arm off from his shoulders, "No, too late. Say what you were going to say." "It's nothing, man. Like I said, I say anything when I'm drunk." "Jin." With Namjoon and Jungkook both standing so close to his face, Jin has no choice but to give in to the pressure. "LisatoldRosethatshewasgonnaruinY/n'sdressbforetheceremony!" He blurts. "What?" Jungkook asks. "Ugh...Lisa told Rose that she was gonna ruin Y/n's dress before the ceremony. She's been planning it since Mrs.Jeon asked her to be a bridemsaid..."

Your heart is pounding in your chest. Of course it was her. How could you not have known? The nerves and adrenaline of it all completely clouded your judgment before. You and B/f/n immediately start looking around for Lisa. Wedding or not, you're gonna beat this bitch's ass.

"Do you see her? I don't see her," B/f/n says, still looking around. "She was just there, what the hell?" You groan. When you turn back to say something to Jungkook, you realize he's not there anymore. "What- where'd he go?" You ask Namjoon, who only points in the direction of the dining hall doors.

You see Jungkook walking over to the security guards standing at their posts. You pick up the skirt of your dress and follow after him. Once you get over to where he is, the bodyguards immediately walk in the directions of the tables. "What- what are you doing?" He doesn't answer, just stands there watching. The goofiness from minutes before is gone and he seems completely sobered up. You both watch as the security guards approach a birdesmaid over at the punch bowl- It's Lisa.

They exchange a few words, her face going from confused to irritated, her eyes immediately darting to Jungkook, and then settling on you.

All three of them walk back toward where you are, right in front of the doors, and you see some people who were sitting in that general vicinity are now staring, whispering to each other. Everyone else seems completely oblivious.

"Kookie, what's going on?" She asks, her eyes switching from snake to deer in the headlights, but you know better than to fall into it. Does Jungkook?

"Cut the shit, Lisa. Jin told us everything," Jungkook hisses. "What- what are you talking about?" She starts playing with her fingernails, getting more and more nervous but trying to play it cool. "The dress, Lisa. The fucking dress. How could you do this to me? To Y/n?" "Are you insinuating that I had something to do with her dress?" She narrows her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You know, so many people have tried to warn me over the years, but I ignored it all. I ignored the warnings, I ignored the cattiness, I ignored the childish games- this ends here."

Her eyes get wide again, "Kook, come on. It's- it's not that serious. She found another dress- Y/n, come on. Can't fight your own battles so you got my best friend to turn on me?-" "Don't ever talk to my wife again." "Jungkook-" She puts her hand on Jungkook's arm but he swiftly pulls it away, "Get her out of here." He doesn't even stick around to watch her go, just grabs your hand and leads you out of the double doors and back out to the courtyard where you'd previously taken pictures with your court.

Once you're outside, he lets go of your hand and just leans against a pillar, putting his face in his hands, "I'm so sorry, Y/n."

"Jungkook, it's okay. I-" "No, it's not. You tried to tell me again and again and I didn't listen. I couldn't protect you even from something so petty. I'm so sorry-" You step toward him and take his hands off of his face, "Hey..." You say gently, looking up at him. "Hey..." He says, sadness melting into a small smile.

You hadn't noticed it before under the dim lights of the dining hall, but his cheeks are flushed the perfect shade of soft pink, the drinks having caught up to him, despite how soberly he was talking only moments ago. His hair is just messy enough to fall in his eyes, but still neat enough to hold an entire photoshoot for Calvin Klein if he wanted to, especially with his loosened tie and slightly unbuttoned dress shirt.

Again, Michelangelo's David comes to mind.

You stand in silence for a bit, basking in each other's presence; the first time you've been alone as husband and wife. It feels the same...and yet different. Jungkook's called you his wife twice tonight. Both times, it made your heart stir in your chest. You're his wife...

"You're my husband now," You say shyly, putting your hands behind your back and looking down, your smile practically cramping up your cheeks,

"I am," He chuckles, staring at you.

He takes another step closer and lifts your chin, your eyes locking once again, though just as you think he might kiss you, he's pulling your arms onto his shoulders and snaking his around your waist, beginning to sway with you. You only now notice that they've begun to play a slow song inside, the distance making the melody barely audible...but you don't mind.

You're in his arms again.

You lock your hands together behind his neck, letting him lead you, and you just let your head rest on him. After a moment, you realize he's humming. "You know this song?" You ask. "Mhm...She is Love by Parachute." "It's pretty." He doesn't respond, choosing instead to sing the words softly to you.

"It was all the same, all my pride and shame, but she put me on my feet... They call her love, love, love, love. She is love and she is all I need. She is love and she is all I need. She is love, and she is all I need."

His voice so angelic, you wish you could record this moment.

But that's the thing about these beautiful moments; we always wish we could capture them somehow, though if we could, they might not be so special anymore.

Maybe what makes them so, is their inability to be bottled up.

You and Jungkook are back at the dinner table chatting it up with your court, the only empty seat being Lisa's. Funny enough, Rose and Jin seem perfectly settled in and comfortable despite the fact that their bestie has been swiftly kicked out. You're sure Rose's mission is now to relay everything to Lisa.

"Excuse me everyone, may I please have your attention! Before we wrap up the party, the father of the groom would like to say a few words to the Bride and Groom." The DJ says, the lights brightening just a bit as Mr. and Mrs.Jeon Sr. come up to stand by the booth.

"Yes, hello everyone," Mr.Jeon bows, "I'm so happy that everyone came to support our family on this momentous occasion. Truly, an occasion we've looked forward to since the day our son was born," From where you and Jungkook sit, it almost looks like Mr.Jeon's eyes are watering.

"As you all know, this wedding will mark the beginning of the merger of our family companies, with my son and new daughter-in-law being the heirs. We cannot begin to express how incredibly proud we are of them- so, as a gift to express our love, my wife and I, along with Mr.L/n and Mrs.L/n, have gotten the bridge and groom a gift."

He waves you and Jungkook over, to which you both respond by looking at each other confusedly. Jungkook helps you out of your seat and you walk up to them. Mr.Jeon hands an envelope to Jungkook, who quickly opens it and pulls out its contents.

A paper, and two sets of keys.

"Wait-" Jungkook says, brows furrowed. He passes the paper to you and then looks at his dad, an expression of complete disbelief. "Congratulations, son."

A house. They've bought you a house.

Everyone begins cheering at every table, as though they've instantly understood the gift.

Jungkook immediately hugs his dad, and then his shoulders start shaking violently- he's begun to cry, and so has his father. You hug Mrs.Jeon tightly, and then go over to your parents who are sat at a table a few feet away, hugging them with all of your strength, your own tears falling onto their shoulders.

You rejoin Jungkook after he's had his moment, and he takes the mic from his dad, "Wow, I cannot tell you all how shocked we are. This was truly unexpected. I think I can speak for my wife-" He glances over at you, a smile on his face as he says it, "- and myself when I say that we are so grateful for the support our parents have given us, and also for the support you've all shown us. Not just today but every day leading up to this and even before. Friends, family- we love you all so much.

We couldn't have done it without you."

The rest of the party was a blur after that moment; more food, more drinks, more laughter and joy, and before you know it, it's all come to an end. "Okay, let's get you back to the hotel and get you out of this dress so you guys can pack your suitcase for the honeymoon!" B/f/n says, grabbing her purse and walking over to Namjoon really quickly. Jungkook looks at you, his soft eyes taking you in; you'll only be in this dress for a little while longer...he's not so eager to end this night yet. "Wanna go somewhere?" He says quietly. To which you smile and respond, "Sure."

"Ready?" B/f/n says, bright eyed and bushy tailed for someone who had thrown back at least 5 shots in the last hour and a half. "Uhm...I'm actually..." You don't quite know how to say it. "I'm gonna take her to the hotel," Jungkook interjects. "What? But you still have to-" "That sounds just fine," Namjoon says, coming up behind B/f/n and lightly pushing her along, giving the both of you a knowing smile. "Wait-" "Let's go, B/f/n," He coaxes. You and Jungkook share a little laugh and then walk out hand in hand to the car.

This time, rather than having a driver, Jungkook is behind the wheel. His arm is extended past the center console and resting on your knee, his thumb stroking the fabric gently. Your heart skips with every touch, and suddenly you feel like a shy teenager; maybe this is what Madonna was talking about when she sang, 'Like a Virgin'.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks, glancing at you. It's only just dawned on you that you've been quiet the entire car ride, which has been about 20 minutes. "I...I don't know." "Liar," He smiles. "I guess I'm just...taking it all in." "Me too." He pulls into a gas station and turns the car off, "Come on." "What? Where?" "Into the unknoooown," He sings. "Never took you as a Disney Princess guy," You laugh. He doesn't acknowledge what you'd said, just exits the car and walks around and opens your door, "My queen." His exaggerated bow elicits another laugh. You gather your skirt and somehow manage to jump out of the car. One arm hooked around his, you both walk into the gas station store. The few people inside turn to look at you and just continue staring. It was probably a strange scene: a bride and groom strolling in casually, walking over to the chip section. You almost wanna laugh imagining it from their perspective. "Pick anything you want," Jungkook says, excitedly picking up a few bags of chips for himself. You carefully examine the wide selection. He walks away to, you assume, look at more things- but when he comes back, he has a basket full of things. You toss a few bags of chips and a candy bar into the basket, along with two drinks; one for hydration, one for pleasure. "Done." He nods and walks over to the counter. "Will that be all?" The cashier says sarcastically. "Wait, wait..." Jungkook tosses in a small pack of gum, "Done."

You ride in happy silence, windows down, your hair falling out of the once-elegant wedding hair style, though you look just as beautiful- at least, that's what Jungkook thinks. You finally drive into a parking lot set on a hill, overlooking the beautiful cityscape. The businesses that would normally be bustling with clientele are closed for the night, so it's only the two of you there.

"Wow...it's beautiful out here," You say, dazzled by the way the lights twinkle down below, cars going back and forth, weaving in and out of sight between the buildings. "Yeah. I first found this spot a few years ago during one of my...not so bright moments," He chuckles, grabbing the bag with all the snacks and taking out his banana milk, "and I've just been coming ever since." "Hmm," You nod, thinking about what he's just said. Not so bright moments... "What does that mean?" You ask. You would've normally left suuch a vague statement alone, thinking if he wanted to expand then he would, but fuck it. That's your husband now, right? You deserve to know...you want to know. You want to know him so badly, now more than ever.

"What, did Namjoon not do a good enough job telling you all my business?" He smirks, causing you to roll your eyes playfully, "Shut up." His smile fades slightly as he sinks into deep thought; as though he's carefully selecting what words to use. "Well...after I came out of rehab, I kind of didn't know what to do with myself. I knew I couldn't go back to how I was living before, as far as the heavy drinking and the drugs- I had done a lot of damage to my family, you know? I couldn't bear to disappoint them like that again," He sighs, taking a sip of his drink, "So, I would spend hours- some times all night- just driving and driving. I drove everywhere, all alone. I drove angry, I drove sad, I drove numb, I drove happy...not that I had many happy moments at that time." You turn in your seat (as best as you can in this big ass dress) and look at him as he talks.

"Did you...ever ask anyone to drive with you?" He furrows his brows, a confused expression on his face, "No, I...I guess I didn't know that I could." Without another word, you reach over and grab his hand, squeezing it lightly. "You might just be the only person in my world who can relate to this feeling," He says in a low voice, looking down at your hands; you do the same. You know exactly what he means.

When you look back up, he's already looking at you; his eyes are low, dark obsidian pupils flickering back and forth from your eyes, to your lips, "Y/n..." "Yes?" You whisper, heart so loud you hear it in your ears. "Can I kiss you again?"

You nod, chest rising up and down as your breath catches in your throat. Not even at "You may kiss the bride" did your heart beat so fast as it does now.

His lips press firmly against yours and slowly, you feel both yours and his head moving rhythmically together.

When he pulls away breathlessly, you can see a tiny bit of your makeup on his nose and mouth, causing you to let out a little laugh.

"What?" He smiles, "Nothing..." You reach over and grab the side of his face, and this time, its your thumb stroking his cheek.

You could look at him forever...

Thanks for being patient in your wait for the next part! Let me know what more you want to see going forward into their married life! DM me some juicy drama to add in :)

[strangebiology]

Myths about Traditional Publishing

Now that I'm in the book-writing world I see a LOT of anti-trad publishing posts. They usually have some nonsense in them so I'm going to address these myths/misrepresentations.

I’m NOT trying to say everyone should trad publish. In fact, I actually suggest people without significant writing experience not write a book at all until they get experience. You asked. If you want to write something faster without any editors and you're okay with doing a lot more work per sale, or if you haven't published anything shorter than a book, I DO recommend self-publishing to you (or, re-thinking why you want to write a book.) Just make sure you’re making your choice without influence from misinfo! 

🚫 “Traditional Publishing means less money because your royalty is less!”

✅Your royalty is less but every one of these anti-trad posts misses the very important financial reality that traditional publishers sell your book widely, meaning more sales without work on your end, and more importantly: the ADVANCE! Yes, trad writers get money before a single book sells! On average most traditionally published books make WAY more than self, even though there are very rare stories of financial success among the portion of self-published authors who are very talented and hard-working.

🚫 “The advance doesn’t count because you have to pay it back!”

✅BS. Money DOES NOT flow from the writer to the publisher in trad pub. Not even if you sell zero books. As the royalties come in, they initially start flowing to refill the advance that the publisher lost, and they go to the writer once that is refilled. The writer is happy because they already have their advance, which has already gone to paying off their debts or into an index fund or the downpayment on a house so they don’t have to throw away money renting, so they’re in a much better financial situation than with no advance. There is no downside to getting guaranteed money earlier. 

The only way you’d have to pay it back is like any job: if I pay you to fix my roof and you don’t do it, the contract is broken and I am legally entitled to my money back. Hopefully, you already knew that. 

🚫 “The advance doesn’t count because you get it in installments and you have to pay some to your agent and taxes exist!” 

✅The second part of that is true, but so what? With a $50k advance and an agent, you keep $42,500 minus taxes. That’s $21,250 on signing and $21,250 on completion. (And yes, there are different installment patterns, different advances etc.) With self-publishing, you get $0 and then $0 forever until your book starts selling. If your advance is small that’s unfortunate but remember self-publishing advances are $0. Zero dollars is much less than $42,500. Zero is less than $1. Self-publishers also go into actual debt to pay for editors, printers, and marketing, so you could easily start with negative money.

🚫 “Traditional publishing sucks because they expect you to do all your own marketing!”

✅Huh? Whatever expectations are happening in the heart of my publisher are none of my business or concern. Marketing on my end is not in my contract and I doubt it’s in the majority of trad contracts. I’ll definitely promote my book as much as I can but I’m sure as heck not going to spend 40 hours a week doing it or getting a degree in marketing unless I'm getting paid. 

However, the publisher employs professional book marketers and they are the ones incentivized to sell the first [insert advance dollar amount] worth of books. 

Also, who do you think markets your self-published book? The Marketing Fairy? 

🚫 “You have to write the whole book first.”

✅Yes with fiction, usually. Unless they trust you because of your track record, and you have a good pitch and part of the book written (like the first three chapters.) With nonfiction, generally, you don't need to have written much of that, maybe one chapter and lots of articles. They might require more if you're writing a memoir, especially if you don't have writing experience. They want to know you can do it.

🚫 “Traditional publishing is just a lottery!”

✅I mean there are elements of luck, what’s in fashion, privilege etc. just like in all fields, especially creative ones. But most of the reason people get trad contracts is hard work, experience, a good concept, proof of successful writing and publishing (including non-books!), caring about what the readers want, etc.  

Most people who I talk to who tried and failed to traditionally publish had no published writing of any sort. Most who succeed at trad publishing had plenty, as well as a lot of expertise in that area. Like, a degree and/or years of experience in that field, not "I listened to a few podcasts on it."

🚫 “Actually a smaller advance is better.”

✅Absolutely not. This is an insidious nonsense rumor akin to “a smaller salary is better” and I wonder if publishers started that rumor to financially abuse their writers or if writers spread it because hate themselves and each other. I’ve heard all the justifications, they make no financial sense, if you hate money give it to me.

The only reason to take a smaller advance would be the same as the reason to take a smaller salary: if the publisher makes up for it with something else that's worth it.

Interestingly, I'm told bigger advances sell out faster, because they attract attention behind the scenes, from reviewers, booksellers, etc.

🚫 “Even an advance of 100k isn't that much when you split it into four payments over 2 years. Better to get regular royalties. Not like $100k is enough to quit your day job.” ✅$100k split into four payments over 2 years is WAY more than the $0 self-publishing gets you before sales. Even $200/month for 40 YEARS is less than 100k, and that's without the time value of money or inflation. And, remember, trad published books get royalties too, the only difference is the first [insert advance here] is GUARANTEED, and after that, fewer dollars per book sold. If you make $100k per book and don't spend too much time per book, that can very easily BE your day job and you CAN certainly quit your other one to pursue that. But no one said anything about assuming selling one $100k is enough for the rest of your life. That would be an absurdly irresponsible mindset. Just because trad publishing doesn't guarantee anything crazy like one book financially supporting you forever, doesn't mean it's worse financially. What a weird, irrelevant straw man.

🚫 “But if you don't sell out your advance, the publisher drops you!"

✅Misleading. First, what is the time frame of this accusation? Your book is not going to sell $50k worth in a week, most likely. Second, what do you mean by "drop?" The publisher does not do anything bad to the author as they are waiting and hoping for sales. They continue to sell and work with the book, they do not yeet it or burn it or un-publish it.

What does happen is your publisher will consider your past success when deciding whether to sign another book contract and how much to give you for your next advance. If your last book sold $100k in a month, but your advance was $101k, then yes, they have lost money so far. But the prospects of your writing are fantastic, and they are likely to sign you again. There is more than one month in their lives.

If your book did not perform well--say it sold $5k in 5 years--then that ONE publishing company isn't going to sign you again. Duh? Then you have like 99,999 other publishing companies to look at. Or you could self-publish. Is that a problem? How are the pro-self-publishing people so scared of self-publishing? Or you could just not write more books, you tried it once, you can decide that's enough, especially if you aren't happy with how it turned out. Don't we all have more than one goal in life? Didn't you want to get into fishing or dancing or insurance sales too?

🚫 “Getting a book contract is my retirement plan!"

✅(I realize most of this post seems pro-trad but yes, we need some reality check.) A trad contract is as good as it does--and as good as the author is. Same with self-publishing. Maybe you could make a lot of money at it, but I ask, what is your experience? How do you know your book is so amazing? You know some of the most financially successful writers still put out TONS of books, right? Because it's a job.

🚫 “Nobody earns a living from this."

✅Well. No, some people do earn livings from book writing, at least temporarily. A single book isn't going to sustain you forever, like I said, but it could potentially sustain you for the time it takes to write it, and even longer maybe, if you and your publisher are good enough. The next year will pass whether you're working on a book or you're working in insurance sales or at Starbucks; so you must consider your values, skills, opportunity cost, the money you get from each, and whatever else matters to you when deciding which to do. You can pitch a publisher and say "no, that's not enough money" when they offer you a contract, if you want.

At the end of the day, trad publishing is a business. No publishing company owes you anything except what is in the contract they signed. Not working with the same place twice isn't going to kill you. Getting rejected is part of the game--you didn't get into every college you applied to, did you? You don't get every award or every job you apply to, you don't cry when you open the Pepsi bottle and it says "try again." But if you don't treat writing like a job, if your publisher sucks, or you think it's a get-rich-quick scheme that requires no skills, craft, or ambition, then you will fail miserably and regret the whole thing.

[avionvadion]

Ignore me, just some very self indulgent OC x Lucifer doodles I did in my notebook while watching Dan and Phil play Poppy Playtime’s Chapter 3.

Basically, Eleanora ends up in Hell by complete freaking accident when a demon tries to reverse engineer a pentagram summoning circle, is attacked by said demon, but saved last second by Charlie and Vaggie as they saw a strange and very suspicious light (think a huge beam from the sky) and went to check it out.

Note: Lucifer is standing on his tiptoes.

Might start pre-Angel joining the hotel???

Charlie doesn’t know how to send El back to Earth, but makes a deal with her to protect her/give her shelter and use magic to keep her lungs working (since human medicine isn’t exactly available) if she helps out at the hotel with being a “righteous example” of how the Sinners should try and behave to redeem themselves, since she’s an awkward and very nice human being who doesn’t do drugs, lol. She’s also kind of the greeter???

Thinks Lucifer is Charlie’s brother at first because damn, but eventually ends up working with him to try and strengthen his and Charlie’s father/daughter bond.

I have this goofy scene in my head where she’s talking to him on the phone (maybe Charlie gave them each other’s numbers in case of emergency since she’s currently the only human in Hell??? I dunno) and she suggests inviting Charlie over for tea and he’s just freaking PANICKING and she’s using a soft and sweet voice to calm him and asks if he’d prefer to write a letter to Charlie asking her to come over for tea, and if he’d like her (El) to deliver said letter.

Luci just fucking kidnaps El because he doesn’t know what to write without it sounding lame or desperate or silly, and she kinda guides him through it? And at the end he’s like, “No! NO! I can deliver it!”

But he panics again so when they go back to the hotel El is awkwardly helping Luci even more awkwardly give Charlie the letter (and maybe a magic duck that spews rainbows and glitter as a gift) and so Charlie goes to have teatime and Lucifer is ecstatic and he kinda just keeps going to El for advice before the two just. Become close friends.

(Dude just starts calling her for literally anything and everything because she just listens and calms him when he starts panicking, and then kidnaps her frequently for tea so he’s not having tea parties alone with his hundreds of magic ducks that he made and so they can discuss ideas)

Lucifer doesn’t realize he’s smitten until Angel catches the two hugging (El was saying she’s glad he and Charlie are a lot closer now and Luci was super happy and thanking her for her help) and Angel makes a very Angel comment. El bickers with Angel because oh gods don’t get her killed by insinuating that, Angel, that’s the king of fucking Hell he would never, and Lucifer is like “Oh shit I do have feelings, didn’t realize I was still capable of that after the divorce” and chaos ensues.

Eventually it’s discovered that El should be able to leave if the demon who summoned her is dead (he is, he died during the recent extermination around the time Angel was recruited) and if her deal with Charlie is broken. Charlie nullifies the deal, but El is still there.

They realize she’s unknowingly entered a contract with Lucifer, buuuuut… plot twist; he’s not about to let her go.

[bobaandasiandramas]

New chapter here. It's not as long as I had originally planned it to be but that's okay.

Find Rest for Your Soul

Y/n is found unconscious by Hoseok and rescue owner, Sejin. Y/n is a mysterious Omega with no real memories and is trying to understand the warnings in her head. What or who is after her?

Alpha, Beta, Omega x F. Reader

Pairing: OT7 X F.Reader

Rating: M+

Trigger warning : none that I can think of

Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

Namjoon looked over to the Omega, she was nibbling on some crackers with her nose in a book. He had yet to tell her that she would be going home with him at the end of shift. He had a comfortable outfit from the clothes that Yoongi had picked out for her, along with a list of rules for their house. She would need to read it over before they would head out. The doctor pulled the sheet of paper out and read over it again. Honestly it was more like a contract that Yoongi wrote up with the pack except the Omega did not have to sign it.

The following Rules and Regulations will be followed and adhered by at all times. To go against any of these rules could lead to certain consequences such as removal from the house.

- The agreed party will continue to maintain and seek medical help with Namjoon.

- The agreed party will listen to all the alphas of the house.

- The agreed party will help with chores around the house.

- The agreed party will not leave the house without telling any pack members.

- The agreed party will not harm any pack members.

It wasn’t anything too terrible. If she was to stay with them then her household chores were to be easy, help in the kitchen, tidy her room and handle her own laundry. Namjoon was pretty sure the Omega was going to agree to come with him, but he was still a little anxious.

At home he knew the pack was preparing for her to arrive. Knowing Jin, he was probably bossing everyone around to make the house presentable, even though it always is. Yoongi said he would make dinner tonight for her first night home - the alpha planned on making Doenjang Jjigae with hopes that the comforting stew would help her feel comfortable and welcome into the home.

Yoongi stated he would try his best to be nice to the Omega, even if he didn’t have the best feelings about her situation. It wasn’t her fault that she went through whatever it is that she experienced.

Namjoon looked at the clock, it was almost time to head out. He sighed and walked over to her while he pulled a chair to the side of her bed. “How are you feeling right now?” He asked.

She turned her attention to him, closing the book after chanting the page number in her head several times before she answered him. “I’m feeling good. How about you? I must admit you don’t seem like yourself today.”

The doctor gave a small chuckle before he sighed. “I’m good, but I’m also nervous.”

She frowned at his words and placed the book down on the small table next to her bed before turning her body to face him completely. “Nervous?” She questioned as she reached her hands forward and cradled his face in her palms, her fingers running gently on his skin, looking for the answer to why he was so stressed.

“Well I need and want to talk to you about something. I think you’ll react positively about it, but there is also a chance that you won’t and I would feel bad making you spiral in your own thoughts again.” He took her hands from his face and held them in his as he spoke.

The omega paused, as her mind started to race a little bit. The last time the doctor brought up a topic that upset her was when he was talking about a mental health facility. Could that be what this was all about? He did say he thought she might react positively, so maybe not. She wouldn’t know until she asked. “What is it?” She asked with a shaky breath.

"My pack and I were talking… you need to get out of the hospital, leaving the clinic will help benefit your healing and so we wanted to invite you to stay in our home while you recover. There would be some ground rules if you agree. Would that be okay with you?" The doctor asked.

Her heart rate increased suddenly, the pounding sound of it reached her ears. She felt hot and shaky with the need to start picking at something, so she let go of his hands and decided her fingernails were the perfect choice. “You want me to come home with you?” She questioned, making sure she understood correctly.

“Only if you want to. If you think it’s better for you to stay here then you can stay here at the rescue.” Namjoon was starting to worry about her behavior, it wasn’t her typical freak out but it was still concerning that she didn’t immediately answer yes like he thought she would.

She looked at him and swallowed hard. The monsters knew she was here but they didn’t know where Namjoon lived, she could be safe there. She had been waiting for them to come back when no one was around and take her back to the hell she escaped. She wanted to tell him yes, so badly - but the thoughts lingered at the back of her mind. What if the monsters found her again? What if they went after Namjoon’s pack? What if one of them got hurt, or all of them? She would never forgive herself.

The alpha could see the variety of emotions swirling in her eyes; relief, sadness and anxiety. He started to regret the question - he should take it back and call the pack to let them know they didn’t need to prepare anything. Maybe Yoongi could bring some of the stew here for her to eat. “It’s okay, no worries. I’m sorry to have upset you.” He stood from his seat and the sound that passed her lips broke his heart, it was a mix of a gasp and a sob. She had gripped the sleeve of his white coat so quickly that he almost stumbled into the bed.

“I want to go.” She confessed, her voice loud with urgency. “I’m… I’m just scared.” She whispered as she dropped her hand from his sleeve.

Namjoon looked at her as she stared at the blanket on her lap. “What are you scared of?” He asked as he took a seat in front of her again.

“What if they find me? What if they find you, your pack, your safe place?” Her lip trembled at the thoughts.

The alpha guided her chin up with his one hand until she was looking at him. “Darling, we will protect you if anyone shows up to hurt you. Trust us.”

“I do, but I’m worried about them hurting your pack or you.”

He gave a gentle smile. “It won’t happen, and even if they found us - we will worry about it. You just focus on getting better. Okay?”

She nodded her head slowly at him. “Okay.” She whispered.

****

Namjoon held my hand as he walked me up to the rather large home. It was intimidating and I almost wanted to run back to the comforts of the hospital clinic that I grew to know. My feet felt heavy, like they were filled with cement, making me stop in front of the first step of the staircase. I could feel the doctor look at me but I was too busy looking at the giant house. I wanted to take a step back, I could feel my muscles twitching to do so but before I could even try to back away the front door opened and my eyes snapped over to the form that was excitedly rushing down the stairs to meet us.

“Angel, you’re here.” Jimin spoke with a grin on his face.

I suddenly didn’t feel so nervous, instead I felt excited and relieved. “Hi Jimin.” I felt myself grin.

He held his hand out, offering for me to place mine in his. “Do you want to see your room or do you want to see the rest of the house first?”

I blinked as I looked at his hand before slowly placing mine in his, he immediately laced our fingers together. I looked at our hands for another moment, it was peaceful in my brain for once and I squeezed his hand gently. As he squeezed back I looked up at Namjoon making sure he was okay that I went with Jimin. The doctor nodded his head, letting go of my other hand as he turned back to the car and grabbed the small bag that had the book and notebook he let me have from the hospital. “A grand tour would be okay.” I answered.

Jimin led me up the steps and into the house. The grand tour consisted of him guiding me into each new room, stating what they called it and some story with it. “This room is the study, you can usually find Namjoon here reading.” or “This is the gym, Jungkook likes boxing, so he comes here to work out.” I haven’t seen any of the other pack members, so I figured they were giving us space while I toured around.

“Everyone has their own room, but there is also the pack room - that's where we spend most of the time together. It’s rare to find any of us in our rooms.” We were walking down a long hallway before he stopped at a closed door. “This room is your room, Jin set it up but if there is something you don’t like we can always move things or buy new stuff.” Jimin spoke as he opened the door to the room.

I stepped inside slowly, looking all around in amazement. It was perfect, the walls were a light purple color, the furniture was a maple wood color, and there was a giant window that looked over the garden of the backyard. There was a small bookshelf that had a few books on it and next to it was a reclining chair. The bed had a giant pile of blankets folded at the end. “It’s wonderful.”

Jimin smiled at me. “I’m glad. There are some outfits in the closet that Yoongi picked out for you and there are some of my pajamas in the dresser until we can get you to the store to pick out your own.”

“Oh, you guys didn’t have to do that.” This was too much, they’re doing too much.

“We wanted to. Why don’t you relax? Yoongi is making dinner and I’ll get you when it’s ready.”

I watched Jimin leave the room and close the door behind him. I turned to look around the room and after a moment I rushed over to the bed and dove into the most comfortable blankets I had ever felt.

****

I was deep in the covers when Jimin knocked on the door for dinner. I reluctantly pulled myself out of the comfortable nest I had built. I really just wanted to sleep but then Jimin cracked the door open and the most amazing smell came into the room, my mouth immediately started to water. My stomach let out a loud grumble and I felt my cheeks heat from embarrassment. If Jimin heard my stomach, he did not let it show.

“Hey Angel, dinner is done. Would you like to join the pack?” He asked as he stepped just past the entrance of the room.

I felt my mouth go dry. I forgot about the rest of the pack, Namjoon had told me a little bit about them. I knew there was a Yoongi who was there the day I arrived and I think he said another omega was there too. I wasn’t sure exactly how big the pack was but I was starting to feel my nerves start to get the best of me. “How big is the pack?”

My question must have thrown him off at first because he paused and blinked twice. “Oh, we are seven.” He smiled. “I know that might be a little intimidating but you met most of us already. If you’re uncomfortable, I can always bring some food up here and I’ll eat dinner with you.”

My heart raced at the suggestion. Jimin was seriously so nice but I couldn’t do that to him. I gathered my wits about me and shook my head. “I will be brave, thought Coraline. No, I am brave.” I heard myself whisper as I thought of the book. Jimin must have heard me as well because I saw a small smile spread across his lips.

“I will be with you Angel, nothing bad will happen and if you get nervous or it becomes too much we can always come to your room if that makes you feel better.” He held his hand out to me, an offer and a promise.

My head felt fuzzy and a warmth spread over me. I closed the distance between us and grabbed his hand. “Okay, let’s go.”

Six people were sitting at the table, happily chatting with each other when Jimin and I walked in. I felt myself freeze as the room went quiet and all eyes were suddenly on me. I stepped behind Jimin, pressing myself to peek over his shoulder, like a child who would hide behind their mother’s legs. I ducked my head into his back not wanting to see everyone staring at me. I felt his chest rumble with a warning growl and the room came alive again, though the chatter was much more quiet than before.

“Are you okay darlin’?” I could hear Namjoon speaking from right in front of Jimin. He must have left the table to come over and check on me.

I peeked from over Jimin’s shoulder and nodded my head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to behave like that.”

Namjoon’s eyes softened and he stepped closer as Jimin guided me out from behind him. “Darlin’ you don’t need to apologize. We should have let you come into the room first and then we all could have joined you slowly. The pack is just excited, especially those who haven’t really met you yet. Shall we introduce you?”

I looked over to the table and noticed one of the members kept peeking over, and as he noticed my gaze he looked away quickly with guilt of being caught staring. It made me want to giggle and made me realize they’re not only excited as the doctor stated but probably also just as anxious as I am. “Okay.”

Namjoon led me to the table and Jimin followed close behind. He introduced me kindly by name and went around the table giving everyone's name and their status in the pack.

I respectfully bowed and greeted them back before taking a seat between Jimin and Namjoon. The food looked and smelled delicious but I couldn't take a bite until I saw everyone else starting to eat as well. I went around the table with my eyes watching each of the pack members.

I was slightly familiar with Jin, I learned that he was the only Beta in the pack. “Unnie, are you really okay?” I can still hear the concern in his voice. I watched him closely as he laughed over something his pack mate said, his giggle floating up like bubbles making me smile.

Next was Hoseok, the Alpha who originally found me. Namjoon told me that he was looking for others since finding me - there were two more after me but they didn’t make it. Sometimes I would catch him peeking into the hospital ward, a sad sort of smile usually graced his face in those moments. “Hey, can you hear me?” His voice was the one I heard the most, it would whisper in the darkness of the night, wrapping around me like a blanket - the warmth of it reminding me of the sun letting me know I was in a safe place.

Jungkook sat next to him, a new face for me. He looked the youngest of them all, an air of amber honey surrounded him as his eyes shined with stars as he too giggled with Jin. He was the one who was trying to not get caught staring earlier. A fellow omega, who has yet to say anything to me personally yet but I was really to embrace the sounds that would pass his lips.

Next to him was another omega, Taehyung, he had a bite’s worth of food hanging on his fork while he chatted away. I could faintly pick up the sounds of his husky baritone voice that swirled like velvet as he spoke with the pack member next to him, Yoongi.

I heard Yoongi’s name plenty of times while in the hospital ward. I knew he was an Alpha who wasn’t too keen about me being around his pack. His gaze slid over to me before his eyes dropped to my untouched plate, he frowned slightly as his eyes found mine again. He responded to Taehyung, his voice was surprisingly soft for the hardness in his eyes. My heart started pounding and I couldn't make out the words he was saying to the omega but his eyes were so intense I had to break contact and look down at my hand that was holding the fork I had yet to use.

“Do you not like Doenjang Jjigae?” Namjoon’s deep voice broke me from my thoughts. “We can get you something else if you wish.” I found his eyes quickly. “Okay darlin’, it was from the right.” The first words that made me feel safe.

I bit my lip and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “What… what if it isn’t safe? What if it’s poisoned and I get sick again?”

Namjoon pulled back with a deep sadness on his face, it made me regret saying anything - I should have just ate it and got sick. I could hear the sigh that passed his lips before he leaned forward to my own ear. “It’s not poisoned darlin’. Yoongi made it for everyone.” My eyes found Yoongi’s, the alpha was staring hard at me and my heart rate sped up again.

Namjoon pulled back and stuck his fork into my plate, grabbing a piece of meat and placing it into his mouth. As he chewed the look of delight graced his features before he swallowed the food down. “It’s delicious, pup. You should definitely give it a try.”

I could feel Jimin grab my free hand and with the tenderness only he seemed to possess and gave an encouraging squeeze. I could sense that everyone was paying attention now, even if they weren’t looking at me. It was overwhelming, I wanted to leave, to get away, to run. I could feel my lungs start to drag air into my lungs a little faster while I tried to fight it - the start of my sanity starting to slip. My feet felt restless, I needed to run and run and run. “Keep moving. Don’t let them get you.”

I heard the sob that escaped my lips before the tear spilled over my cheeks. I could hear the concerned chirps of the other two omega’s in the room but before I could bolt from my seat I felt arms wrap around me and pulled me toward someone’s chest. “It’s okay, Angel. We got you. You’re safe here.” I gripped him tight as his words swirled in my head. “You left them behind.” The second words to confirm I was with trusted people.

“I’m sorry!” My voice cracked as I apologized into his shirt.

“It’s okay. This was too much at once. We should have planned this out better for you.” Jimin ran his fingers through my hair. “Would you like to go back to your room?”

I shook my head. I needed to do this. I heard the sounds of chairs moving, as if the pack was leaving the table instead. I gripped his shirt tighter and grit my teeth before forcing myself from his chest. “Wait, don’t go.” The words rushed in my panic. I don’t know why my eyes found Yoonig’s but they did. He looked unamused at my outburst and it made me feel even more embarrassed. “Please, don’t go. I’m sorry. I’ll try again. I want to try again. I don’t want to be like this.”

Yoongi looked right into my very soul, not blinking but I caught his tongue pressed into the side of his cheek as he watched me. He then slowly sat down, a brow raised before he looked back at the plate. I could sense everyone else sitting back down and Jimin tensed at the tension in the air.

I gathered some food on my fork and sniffed it before placing it in my mouth. It tasted just as good as it smelt. I felt my stomach roar to life, demanding more but I made it wait. “It really is delicious.” I spoke and I swear I saw the corners of Yoongi’s lips lift for a split second.

The tension dissipated after that. I stayed quiet, taking small bites of my dinner while watching the pack members until they slowly finished their meals and started clearing the table. I was glad I didn’t have to do any talking during the meal, they probably didn’t like me as it was. Jimin and Namjoon stayed with me, each speaking their own words of encouragement when I asked if I could have seconds despite my stomach starting to hurt. The doctor agreed but only gave me a small amount more that I was able to finish.

Jimin grabbed my plate and I went to protest but he told me not to worry about it. Instead he motioned to Namjoon who was waiting for me. “I’ll see you in the morning, angel. Please rest well now.”

I nodded my head as I watched him leave the room. I then turned my attention to the doctor.

“I’ll walk you to your room.” The alpha grinned.

The two of us walked slowly, and I could feel the exhaustion settling in with each step. A yawn escaped me before I could catch it. “Thank you for bringing me here. Your home is beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it. I’m sorry about dinner, I sometimes forget that not everyone is used to my pack. They can be a little overwhelming at times but they mean right. Especially Yoongi.”

I felt myself freeze at the alpha’s name. While I didn’t feel any malice from Yoongi, I knew I wasn’t his favorite and probably never will be. “It’s okay. Claire Cross once wrote, ‘The softest hearts always have the toughest shields.’ I find everyone’s behavior and thoughts of me valid. I’m the crazy one.”

“You’re not crazy.”

“I’m not?”

“No, just a little lost at times.”

********

A few days later, around lunch time, Namjoon left the study to seek out their guest. On his adventures he found Jimin and was surprised to see that he was alone. "Where is she?" He asked, expecting that the two of them would have been glued at the hip. Jimin had taken off of work since her arrival to make sure she settled in nicely.

Over the past few days Jimin was constantly at her side bringing her all around the manor, mostly to sit in the gardens or the back fields where the wildflowers grew high to their waist. Jimin and her would arrive in the house hours later, with flower crowns donning their heads and their skin flushed from the summer heat. Sometimes she would read a book to Jimin under the large maple tree or even more rare would hum a beautiful tune and slowly spin on her toes in circles, one leg lifted with her arms wide open at her sides. Jimin would watch her happily, thinking about joining in her simple ballet. He always questioned the name of the song she hummed, it seemed so familiar to him but he couldn't place it.

From a window from the second floor, Yoongi would watch the two of them, making sure nothing happened. He would stay behind the dark sheer curtains, slightly memorized by the grace of the omega below, her hair catching the sun just right making it look like glitter was brushed over the tresses. He would shake his head, trying to make sense of his own thoughts that would wander to places he didn't want them to go.

Jimin smiled at Namjoon and grabbed his hand. "Come and see for yourself." He led the other Alpha to the open window that was right outside the backyard patio. "Found them here this morning and didn't have the heart to interrupt."

On the back patio Jungkook was sitting with the female, color coordinated piles of wild flowers at their sides. She giggled as she placed her flowers down and reached forward to help guide the male's hands in the right direction and motion."Just like this, if you think about it too much then it seems difficult but I promise it's easy."

Jungkook nodded his head and held the flowers carefully as she picked her own back up. This time he moved his hands as she moved hers, following the exact movement. He picked up the new flower and followed the instructions again. He felt a smile tug at his lips as he watched his chain grow longer and longer. "Thank you, Noona."

Namjoon smiled at the two omegas, glad to see the female making friends with Jungkook. “She’s been doing well here.” It was true, she had not had an episode yet, a few close calls when she’d grow silent and get lost in her thoughts.

“I know. I’m happy for her.” Jimin replied. “Thank you, Joon. Thank you for bringing her home. I think I was missing something before and now I think I found it.”

Namjoon nodded his head. “I can see a difference in you. You seem happier in a way.”

The two alphas stood there for a while, watching the two omegas build their flower crowns. Once they were done, the female allowed the male to place his head in her lap as she played with his hair. She started telling him a story, about seven unlikely companions traveling to the depths of a place called Mordor to destroy a ring.

She looked up at the sky, eyes closed as she embraced the warmth of the setting sun. “It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.” She quoted the book before turning her attention to the male omega, smiling that she still had his attention.

“You’re a good storyteller, Noona.” Jungkook whispered as he looked up at her.

Jimin smiled from the window and turned his attention to the doctor. “Shall we go help with dinner before we call them in?”

Namjoon nodded his head, casting one more look at the two beings outside, his heart full at the scene.

*****

Namjoon frowned at the other three omegas before looking back at the female. She has been doing so well at dinner, eating without being encouraged to do so. Tonight was different though, everyone was done eating but she had yet to take a bit of her food. He could tell she was deep in her thoughts as she stared at the table in front of her. The rest of the pack was dismissed for now while Namjoon tried to get her to respond, with no success. Even Jimin couldn’t snap her out of her thoughts so they just sat there with her, hoping she would snap herself back.

At some point she started to hum the song she always hums and she turned her head slightly as if watching a scene in front of herself. Namjoon started to hum with it too, he knew the song as he tried to recall the words until finally it sparked. “...when you see me, when you touch me.” He whispered to the tune. “She’s humming Serendipity.”

Jimin snapped his fingers, that’s why he knew the song - it was one of his favorites. The way she hummed it was slower than the regular speed of the song, but it sounded just as elegant now that he could put the lyrics to her tune. He started to sing the lyrics in tune with her humming and he watched her eyes slowly come back into focus until she stopped humming and blinked twice.

She looked around her and realized that some of the pack was missing, the table was cleared with the exception of her own plate. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She felt her cheeks heat in embarrassment and she looked down at her plate, refusing to meet their gaze.

“Where did you go?” Hoseok asked her as he watched her from across the table.

She tilted her head as if she was trying to recall the scene. “There were flashing rainbow lights that glittered all over the room and large silver balls with tiny mirrors spinning on the ceiling. She wore a white dress and danced with the best dressed male. They spun in circles while everyone clapped on the sidelines.”

They knew what she was describing, a wedding - but who’s wedding was it.

“Is this something you remember seeing in person?” Namjoon asked.

She smiled and nodded her head. “Yes, I was present.”

“Were you the one wearing the white dress?” Jimin asked, fearing the answer as his heart sank to his stomach. He forgot she could already have a mate and a family.

“No, it was Eonni.” She dropped the smile as she started to recall more details.

“Was it a happy memory?” Namjoon asked.

Her brows had knitted in confusion, eyes darting back and forth like she was looking for the words to read off a book. She then looked up at Yoongi and caught his eyes. “I don’t remember.” She admitted in defeat. “I can’t remember it anymore.” She turned her attention to her meal and stared at it unhappily before poking her fork into the meat and taking a bite. She grimaced at the temperature before her plate was taken away by the quiet Alpha.

The sounds of buttons being hit on the microwave could be heard before the low humming of the machine coming to life started. Her fingers brushed the seams on the bottom of her shirt while she waited for her food to return. “I’m sorry again. I don’t know how I got there. I wish I stayed here.” She frowned again.

“It’s okay darlin’. We just worry when you don’t eat and when it’s hard to get you back to us. Tomorrow I think you should stay inside, perhaps you’re staying in the heat too long.” Namjoon suggested.

If words could slap her then she would be bruised. She loved going outside now, Jimin and Jungkook made her feel safe out there. She hated being inside all day. “It begins with isolation - demons always inhabit desolate places.” She whispered.

Namjoon flinched at her chosen quote, he didn’t mean to upset her. He wanted to reach out to her but instead he looked over to Jimin. Said alpha pulled his phone out and began to look up the words she spoke, this had turned into a habit, he was always checking some of the words she said and linking them to books. They still didn’t understand why or how she was able to keep all these quotes in her head.

“A Familiar Rain by John Geddes.” Jimin spoke as he turned his phone to the doctor so he could see as well. Jimin looked at the collection of quotes from the book and decided to try something. “We fear monsters because we fear the dark parts of ourselves.”

She looked at Jimin, something flashed in her eyes, almost anger or bitterness. “One man’s monster is another man’s beloved. The wise know that.” She pushed her chair away from the table, despite Yoongi walking back with her hot plate. She turned her attention to Namjoon and glared. “If I wanted to imprison someone until the end of days, would it not be best to use a prison that he has no desire to escape?” She tried to be tough but her lower lip trembled and her glare broke into hurt. She quickly left the room despite the three of the four alpha’s calling for her.

“She switched books after I quoted the first one. I’m sorry, I thought it would help. Both quotes she just said were from the same book, The Winter of the Witch.” Jimin looked at Namjoon and noted the other alpha looked defeated. “It will be okay Joon, she’s just a little upset. I’ll talk to her and let her know you weren’t trying to keep her tied inside the house.”

Hoseok piped in. “Maybe we can make tomorrow almost like a pack day. We can make a fort and popcorn, put on some movies and just spend time together. She’ll be so preoccupied with everyone that she won’t pay any mind to the conversation tonight.”

Yoongi stood there watching the three alphas, his tongue stuck in his cheek as he bit back what he wanted to say. He could tell the female was upset with the situation and as much as she wanted to handle it normally, she couldn’t. He turned and left the room, hot plate still in his hand and he made his way to her room.

Once the alpha reached her room he pressed his ear close to the door and listened for any signs of her being in there. Small sobs reached his ears and he sighed before knocking on the door. The crying halted for a moment, before it started again. He knocked once more.

“Please go away.”

Yoongi frowned and decided to try once more. This time he could hear her feet shuffle against the carpet as she walked to the door. It opened slowly, revealing her to him. Whatever words that were about to come from her mouth died on her tongue instead. The door opened wider for him and he stepped past her, walking his way to her desk to place her plate down. He looked around her room and realized it was cold, not in terms of temperature but the room itself was dark and dreary, despite the light purple that was covering the walls. One the bed was heap on fuzzy looking blankets, but they lacked the scent of a pack - which was on purpose as to not scare her but it was pissing him off. In the corner of his eyes he could see her fretting slightly, taking a step forward but then back again and repeating this several times as if trying to talk herself into communicating with him.

“You’re safe, Flittermouse.” The words left his lips causing her to freeze, her eyes shot up to look at him.

“What?” She asked quietly.

“Flittermouse,” he said, leaning against the desk. “Like a little bat who can’t stay still.” Yoongi watched her closely as she slowly processed his words, no doubt stashing them somewhere in her mind. “Come here.” He beckoned her closer.

She listened, stepping quickly but quietly toward him until she was less than arm's length away. “Yes?”

Yoongi reached out and touched her cheek with his hand, wiping a stray tear away before tilting her chin up so she would look him in the eye. With his free hand he grabbed the fork from her plate and gathered a piece of meat from it before popping the bite full in his mouth, letting her see it wasn’t dangerous for her to eat. After swallowing it down he handed her the fork. “Eat.” He released her and turned his attention to her bed again.

The omega blushed at the intensity of the room but listened and took a seat at her desk. As she took the first bite she almost moaned in delight at how much better it tasted. Her eyes followed the alpha as he moved slowly around the room.

“Do you sleep well at night?” He looked back at her for an answer.

She was mid bite when he asked so she started chewing quickly to answer him, covering her mouth with her free hand.

“Easy now, nice and slow. I can wait.”

She did as told and once she could answer him she did so. “Sort of. It takes some time before I can fall asleep.”

“Why is that?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Always worried they will come.”

Yoongi stopped in his tracks. “Who are they?”

“I don’t know.” She confessed. “Monsters, cloaked in blackness.”

The alpha hmm’d and continued walking around. “You got upset with Namjoon because you don’t want to be locked inside. Am I right?”

The omega lowered her head in shame. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get mad, but you’re right. I don’t want to be locked in the darkness. I feel like I’ve been locked away for so long, I’ve known the darkness for the longest time.”

There was silence between them and the alpha stared at the omega, watching as her eyes clouded over slightly, lips moving as if she was whispering something before she spoke a little louder. “There were a billion lights out there on the horizon and I knew that all of them put together weren't enough to light the darkness in the hearts of some men.”

He knew immediately that it was another quote, there was no need to look it up like Jimin insisted on doing all the time. “Do you not nest?” He asked, trying to switch the topic.

It worked as her eyes cleared and she shook her head. “Nest?”

“Omega’s normally make a nest with their bedding materials. I’ll have Jungkook and Taehyung help you if you wish. Nesting can help you sleep better. Do you mind if I try something for you tonight?”

“I guess so.” The omega shrugged her shoulders and took another bite of her meal.

Yoongi nodded and walked over to the bed and looked at the fuzzy blankets, picking them up one by one and scenting them all for her. He was surprised to find none of them scented by Namjoon or Jimin. He had figured they would have at least given her one. He came to a blue blanket that smelt the most of her scent and scented it extra well, figuring it was probably the one she wrapped around herself.

The remaining of her meal they stayed silent and once she was done she turned to look at him. “Why did you do that?” She motioned to the blankets.

“I scented them for you. It might help you sleep better.”

“But why did you do it?”

Yoongi shrugged this time. “You remind me of someone a little bit.” He stated as he thought of himself. Namjoon was right, he was broken when he first got here. Not exactly like her but the similarities were enough for him.

“Were they crazy too?”

“I don’t think you’re crazy. I did before. Not now though.” He stood from the bed and walked over to the desk to collect her plate. “Namjoon isn’t trying to lock you in - he just worries that you’ll push yourself too much. Take the day tomorrow, I’m sure Taehyung would be able to help you find something fun to do in the house.” He started to walk toward the door. “Sleep well, Flittermouse.”

She couldn’t help but smile at the nickname as she watched him close the door.

[vro0m]

Do you think if 2024 is just as bad/maybe slightly better we will still see Lewis on the grid? I know he wants that 8th title that is rightfully his, however, it has to be the most difficult thing mentally, physically and even on a spiritual level to have the hunger, fire and want to fight up front but the machine underneath you just doesn't do what it's meant to do and doesn't seem to align well with the driver in the seat which is so disheartening to see.

Hard question. Ultimately I don't know, because I don't know him and I'm not in his head, but there's a few things I imagine would have an influence on that decision.

SORRY IT GOT SLIGHTLY LONG (duh)

1- The contract

First of all let's not forget he's contracted until the end of 2025. We all know contracts can be broken but it does make it seems he's determined to not give up quite yet.

2- The car

Of course the car performance is the main thing. It's very unlikely, unless there's a legit engineering miracle happening, that the W15 will be able to challenge RedBull. But I don't think he's necessarily asking for that much. I think if the next car feels better to him in testing, and then he sees the development finally reliably go in the right direction, even if slowly, it'll give him enough hope and fire to sustain the effort for a bit longer.

3- The 2026 regs

If the car stays bad or doesn't get much better, the second main question imo is can he keep himself going until 2026 to see if the new regs change the situation. Can you imagine retiring at the end of 2025 just for the 2026 car being good again? It would be infuriating. 2026 is in quite a long time but I do feel like he wouldn't leave without checking it out if he can't get what he's still here for until then (and he almost certainly won't).

4- The mental side of things (amp up the speculation)

I feel like it's pretty clear he had a retirement plan and the Abu Dhabi 2021 finale has pushed that back. He also said he wasn't planning on still being there at 40. So on the one hand, he might be kinda done? Or more like he wishes he was done? I do personally feel like at times he seemed tired and disengaged (understandable). But it's not necessarily a bad thing to be able to put some distance between F1 (or anything really) and oneself imo, and not be starving and frustrated all the time because it's not going how you'd like. Take Alonso. Alonso wants to win extremely bad as well. I mean he hasn't won in 5'000 years but he's STILL trying at his old age (I'm half-joking). But ultimately his detached attitude in the face of lack of performance is what he owes his longevity to. He still wants it, but he doesn't let it get to him too much when he can't get it. It's not sustainable to be angry about something you have no control over 100% of the time. You will burn out. You need to let go.

On the other hand, can Lewis really detach? No one has been as fully dedicated, no one has sacrificed so much for so long, no one has put as much effort in it, no one has set such a high standard for himself than he did. His own teammates have been saying that. His own teammates have burnt out trying to keep up. AND he's being going at that pace for so long, been on the top for so long, I wonder if he even can let go enough to wait for better days without exhausting himself mentally in the meantime. He's not used to it. I'm not saying his career has been smooth sailing, he's had subpar or even bad cars before. But not for like. A decade. In a sense he's precisely in the position his teammates have been in. But instead of them VS Lewis, it's now Lewis VS the car, I guess? My point is in both cases, when you give it your 110% and don't see ANY result coming your way, you can't keep giving 110%.

Basically it's a fight between the fire in his gut and the dull reality of things. I don't know who wins because we haven't really been there before.

5- Time

The only similar situation was the last few years at McLaren but he was winning races even then. And his solution was move teams. I think it's unlikely he will do that again, most of all because he's running out of time. Back then he had the time to build up from the ground again, but it's not the case anymore.

So the last question is, if he does keep at it, until when? At some point he will have to retire. If he manages to win his 8th, then it's pretty clear-cut. If he doesn't, when does he stop trying? The longer he stays, the further from quitting while he's ahead he is. Maybe it's just my own feelings talking but I feel like it would be also very disappointing and annoying to leave in such a lackluster way after having accomplished so much. Although I guess that's often the tragic fate of champions. Anyway, there must be some kind of deadline in his head, maybe not a fully hard one, but at his age and with where he's at in life with the rest of his projects, I don't think he's blindly walking along anymore. We have no way of knowing what the deadline is though. Time will tell.

[sforzie]

I woke up and my brain chose violence Raphael. So have some unedited Tav/Raphael words.

(Female tiefling Tav and Raphael. SFW at present.)

____

“I want to make a deal with you,” she says. Raphael peers down at her, curiosity piqued by the serious look in her luminous blue eyes. The adventurer’s look is so serious that he can already start picking out the words for her contract in his mind.

“Go on, little mouse. Tell me your desire.”

“Make me your queen. I wish for the power of the Hells, to kneel at your feet and serve. To smite your enemies and warm your bed.”

Surely she must be messing with him. Either that or he has dozed off and this is naught but some fantasy playing out in his weary mind.

“Why would you wish for such a thing?”

A smirk plays on her lips, and he is aware of the long line of her gray tail curling behind her, like that of a cat excited to see its prey. That’s not how it works, is it? He is the cat, and she is naught but the mortal little mouse that is willingly standing within striking distance of his claws.

“A means to an end. They always said I was too ambitious for my own good.” She twists a length of her hair around her fingers in a coy motion that is definitely a practiced act, and looking at her long, sharp, black nails he cannot help but think this mouse already has claws of its own.

While he ponders his response, she continues: “That is what you deal in, yes? Means to ends? Someone gets what they want, and you get what you want from them–a soul, a bauble, a bit of power and influence. You don’t do anything without being certain that you will profit from it.”

“Clever little mouse,” he murmurs. “Though I would hardly call the Crown of Karsus a bauble.”

She shrugs, a delicate, precise movement.

“You have already given me that which I have craved and sought for centuries, in exchange for the ability to save your little world. That transaction is complete. Why do you think I would consider another contract, another deal? What could you possibly have to offer that might interest me?”

The smirk lingers again. She already looks the part of an infernal queen, he thinks, thanks to her tiefling nature. Her horns curve long and black and elegant from her brow, her poise is confident despite standing in the presence of a cambion–indeed, for all the world she has the swagger of a wingless fiend. He can feel the heat of the Hells infused in her blood, as surely as his own. She is confident in her belief that he will take her offer.

Raphael is tempted, even without hearing her counteroffer.

Again, he asks: “What would I get in return for the twisted power that you crave?”

“Me.”

He frowns, hoping to mask the little excited thrill that shoots its way down his chest and straight south past his abdomen.

“You are the hero of Baldur’s Gate, of the Sword Coast. You can already have everything you want there. Why ask to serve me, instead?”

“Perhaps the tadpole left too many holes in my head,” she says, coy once more. “Or perhaps I simply know what I want. What I have wanted since you first interrupted my travels.” The points of her nails dance feather light over the line of his jaw. Raphael sneers for show.

“And, what makes you think I would even consider your request? What makes you think that it would hold even the slightest interest to one such as I? You have already given me the Crown; I have no further need for you.”

She whispers: “Because you are a lonely man, Raphael. You will soon find that it is only lonelier at the top, no matter how much you love yourself.”

He wants to step away, to move away from the range of her stare, but he does not desire to concede any ground to her. Instead he presses a palm to her shoulder and gives her a relatively gentle shove away. Her look is unchanged, unperturbed by his action.

“I am a busy man, little mouse. Soon to be busier, thanks to my acquisition of the Crown. I will have to put your offer on the back burner until I have time to give it some proper consideration.”

“I would not wait too terribly long, Raphael. You know how fickle a woman’s heart can be.”

He swallows, thinking. The hero of Baldur’s Gate could be a valuable asset to have as he works to unite the Hells–and perhaps beyond. Better perhaps to make an ally of her now, then have to worry about her stirring up trouble later. Still, he is uncertain.

He does not like this uncertainty.

“You do not even entirely know what you ask for,” he says. “You wish to be the lady of a house you do not know.” Raphael produces a golden key with obsidian teeth and holds it out in his palm. “Take this.”

“What is it?”

“A key, obviously. Do not be a simpleton.” He sneers at her. “This key will turn any door you use it on into a temporary portal to the House of Hope. The portal will accept only you as its guest, and the key will incinerate the hand of anyone else who tries to touch it.”

She peers at the key. “And, what is the catch?”

“No catch. You may use it to acquaint yourself with the House, to see if it is truly where you wish to spend eternity. Should you change your mind, you need only return the key to me, and this talk of contracts will be off. No strings, no catch.”

After another long moment of consideration, she takes the key from his hand.

“Suit yourself.”

Nearly a moon cycles past before she uses the key.

Raphael is lounging on his bed, relaxing after a foray into one of the other Hells, when he becomes aware of the key being used. He is aware of the portal from Baldur’s Gate admitting her into the House of Hope’s portal room.

He does not get up to greet her, nor does he make any immediate move to see what she is up to. Raphael continues to idle in bed, wondering how long it will be before the portal marks her departure.

He dozes off.

“Your guest is still awaiting your attention, Master,” Haarlep notes when Raphael wakes from his nap.

“She did not leave?”

“Nay. I believe she is in the Archives. Has been for a few hours.”

He frowns. What could she possibly be doing in there? Searching for some relic to pocket? Looking for mischief to cause, as adventurers are ever wont?

Raphael dresses and makes his way unhurriedly to the Archives.

He is not sure exactly what he is expecting when he arrives–chaos, the Archivist in pieces, perhaps–but it is certainly not what he finds.

She is seated at a small table. The Archivist sits in the adjacent chair, and is talking with quiet animation as he gestures at a scroll that is unwound across the table top and onto the floor.

“What are you doing here, little mouse?” he barks across the room. The Archivist jolts in his seat and scrambles to his feet, offering a bow to the master of the house. She does not move from her seat.

“Learning all your secrets, of course,” is her flippant reply. Raphael scowls.

“I did not give you the key so that you might–”

“M-Master, pardon my interruption, but the Lady was not causing any trouble,” the Archivist cuts in. He resists the urge to reduce the man to cinders–he is too useful–and settles instead for impaling him with a glare.

“What then?”

“Your Archivist was merely indulging my curiosity,” she says. “He clearly puts in a great deal of work for you, making sure that every object in your impressive collection is properly cataloged and registered and accounted for in the proper legalese.”

“You made your way to the House of Hope and just…” Raphael gestures at the scroll, hoping that his tone is not too marred by incredulity. “Looked at paperwork?”

She gives a disinterested shrug. “Haarlep said you were taking a nap and not to be disturbed.”

“You spoke with Haarlep?”

She nods.

“And they didn’t try to fuck you?”

There is something undeniably charming to the way her eyes squint when she laughs. “Oh, they did. Said that they could give me something to help ‘fill my time’ while waiting for you.”

Haarlep hadn’t seemed any more smug than usual when he had roused from his dreamless slumber, so Raphael took that as meaning they hadn’t had any success with his guest.

“I told them that if I wanted to fuck someone who looked like you, I would wait to do the real thing.” She chuckles. “They told me good luck. You only like to fuck yourself.”

He makes a mental note to smite the incubus later. “Shall I take that to mean that you’ve no interest in me carnally?”

She shrugs.

Raphael doesn’t know what to do with the woman. She has already charmed his arguably broody Archivist and turned down Haarlep, all whilst he was peacefully taking a nap.

“Well,” he says, supposing that he should be the proper gentleman of the house. “My apologies for keeping you waiting, dear mouse. Might I offer you a tour? A drink? A virgin sacrifice?”

Her lips slowly pull into a smile. “Tea would be a lovely start.”

[dyns33]

Bullet Train

I'm in my Brad Pitt's moment, so here's a Ladybug x female reader story.

He was the unluckiest man in the world.

Maria could give him all the nicknames she wanted to ward off fate, matched with lucky charms and incantations, Ladybug knew he was unlucky.

All the work with Gary was not intended to change that.

The sessions only helped him accept this reality.

Part of him considered that maybe it was karma. He had done a lot of harm, in his work, and sometimes outside of his work. He had chosen to do evil, because he could have decided to be a dentist or a hot dog seller instead of an assassin.

Even if Gary wasn't there to give him hope, Ladybug still wanted change. This was why he now only accepted simple contracts, without violence, or almost none.

That way, maybe he would end up being a little less unlucky.

Stealing a suitcase from a train should have been easy. No need for a gun. No need for violence. Almost no need for luck, the suitcase waiting for him quietly in the suitcase compartment.

Ladybug just had to take it, wait for the next stop, and get off the train.

Super easy.

The easiest job of his entire career.

And it had absolutely nothing to do with the stupid nickname Maria and the others had decided to give him for his return to the field.

It didn't take long for him to realize that it wouldn't be that easy.

There were other people on the train, a lot of people, who also wanted the suitcase. Getting it was the easy part. Now he had to survive and escape.

Since no one yet knew who had the suitcase, he decided to play the normal passage, who had nothing to do with this mess. If he tried anything more complicated, his bad luck might play tricks on him.

He then approached another passenger who was returning from the bar car with an iced tea, pretending to crash into her by accident.

"Oh ! Sorry, so sorry ! Are you okay ? I'm really sorry, I can go get you another one."

"No, it will be fine. Thank you."

"I insist. I wasn't looking where I was going, I'm really stupid. My therapist says that I need to pay more attention to what's around me, focus on the present moment. He's very gifted, he has a lot of very intelligent sentences."

"I have no doubt about it."

"Please let me make it up to you. Your sweater is soaked. I'm confused, really. Let's sit down, I must have some tissues in my jacket."

This was how Ladybug met Y/N.

He didn't really like involving civilians in his missions, but sometimes it was necessary. He would make sure nothing happened to her. She wouldn't even know that she had spoken with a dangerous criminal, to help him escape from several dangerous criminals.

No, they were just going to have a good time talking, until the next stop.

"This Maria shouldn't make fun of you, it's good to see a specialist when you need one, and there's no reason to be ashamed of it."

"Exactly !" Ladybug exclaimed with joy. "My boss doesn't understand this at all. It's very nice of her to say that my old self was great, but I didn't like it. I wanted to change, and Gary helps me a lot."

"I don't know what you were like before, but you look calm and happy. You still need to look ahead, but I think you're on the right track."

"Sorry again about the iced tea. I can definitely buy you another one if you want."

“No, thank you, that’s nice Mike.”

Ladybug didn't know why he said that his name was Mike. Maybe because it was classy, and he needed to give a credible name, and it was quite close to his real name, which he wasn't allowed to give.

They had only been talking for fifteen minutes, and he felt a real connection with Y/N. He couldn't explain it, but she listened to him, and what she said was clever, and he really wanted to know her better.

It had been a real chance to meet her.

The bad luck was that it happened during a mission.

The agents had every right to have a life. They could even be honest about their work with their family, if they signed certain documents. But under the current circumstances, there was little chance that he would be tolerated for him to keep in touch with Y/N.

Too risky.

The job was to get in and out of the train, taking the suitcase, without being spotted.

"You travel a lot ?" Y/N asked him with her soft voice and sparkling eyes, showing that she was really interested in what he was going to say.

“I think I’ve been everywhere.”

“It’s impossible, I don’t believe you !”

"Oh, but it's true. My job requires me to go everywhere. It's beautiful and tiring. A little depressing too, you end up getting bored and no longer impressed at all. Gary always told me take the time to admire the place where I am, as well as the people around me."

“That’s good advice.”

“I'm applying it right now, and I think yeah, it's really good advice.”

Y/N smiled, biting her lip slightly. How long had it been since he last flirted ? Outside of work anyway, not to get out of a complicated situation, even if he spoke with Y/N to get out of a complicated situation.

Now that he thought about it, it must have been several months, and the last attempts had been disasters, like all the relationships he had tried to have. He was also unlucky in love. Ladybug never stood a chance.

He was about to ask Y/N a question to show her that he was also interested in what she had to say, when his phone rang. Maria, of course.

"My boss." he sighed, waving his phone. "I have to answer."

“You don’t have to get up.”

"Unfortunately, I have to. Confidential informations."

“I can watch your place and your things if you want.”

It wasn't a good idea to leave the suitcase. Someone might take it, hurting Y/N. But he also couldn't walk around on the train with the suitcase, while he was answering the phone. It was difficult to defend yourself with a phone in one hand and a suitcase in the other.

"… Okay, but could you put my suitcase between your leg and the wall ? It's very important, I don't want anyone trying to take it."

“Sure, no worries.”

No one could see the suitcase there, so Ladybug was reassured and he went to answer Maria with a calm and satisfied mind. It only took two minutes, he calculated. The time to tell his boss that everything was fine, he had the suitcase, and he would soon get off the train.

She was calling to tell him he would have to get off the train soon.

Ladybug wanted to thank her for wasting two precious minutes with Y/N, who he would never see again, but he restrained himself. That would have wasted even more time, and he shouldn't have to go through the hassle of solving a problem. Gary would have been proud of him.

When he came back to sit down, Y/N asked him if everything was okay, handing him back the suitcase.

"I have to get off at the next stop, which makes me very desperate. I wish I could have spent more time… on the train…"

With you.

Well, he hadn't flirted in a long time, but Ladybug had enough experience to know that this sentence was way too quick and ridiculous.

"I understand. I'll stay there, but it won't be the same."

Maybe not. But too late, the train was already starting to brake, and they entered the station.

He asked her if she really didn't want an iced tea. Y/N gave him a beautiful smile, wishing him a good end to his trip to Tokyo.

They left each other like this, without exchanging numbers. She had seemed like she wanted it, but probably she was waiting for him to propose it. Unfortunately he didn't have the right to do so.

Ladybug then went to the meeting point where he had to give the suitcase to his contact. Super easy mission, no problem, no need for a gun at all.

This was what he said as he gave the package to the man waiting for it. That didn't make him smile. He smiled even less as he opened the suitcase. Ladybug didn't even know what was supposed to be in it, he hadn't asked.

Later, Maria would tell him that there should have been a lot of money, and a USB stick had very important information regarding a mafia gang.

"… It's for you." the man said in a monotone voice, handing him a piece of paper which he took out of the suitcase.

"What's this ? A secret code ?"

"No," the man said, and it sounded a lot like a way of saying 'idiot'.

It wasn't easy to tell if he was an idiot or not from reading the paper. Maybe a little bit. Like it was not easy to tell if he was as unlucky as he claimed.

The message was short and simple.

'Thanks "Mike". Call me for an iced tea' with a number next to it.

Out of all the passengers he could have chosen to hide with, Ladybug had chosen one who wanted to take the suitcase, and he had literally given it to her for two minutes, which was enough for Y/N to empty it.

He wondered if Y/N was her real name. They had to have the same rules when they were on a mission.

Really, Ladybug didn't have much luck. But he got Y/N's number without even having to ask, so maybe he wasn't the unluckiest man in the world, but just a little.

He would talk to Gary about it at their next session to see what he thought about all that.

[sunder-the-gold]

Taking a posthumous look at Durrenmatt, Vermeil's benefactor and Executor's client

All information about this NPC can be found in 'Survival Notarization' from [Operational Intelligence], as well as Vermeil's archive files and voice lines.

The Sankta named Dürrenmatt began and ended his long life in Laterano.

We do not know how long he lived within the city before leaving it. We do not know if he plied his trade as mechanic within Laterano, or abroad.

We do know that at some point, Dürrenmatt threw his law-abiding life away to pursue revenge. Among his crimes, he shot at least one person dead. Either he did not use a Patron Firearm, or he did not shoot another Sankta, because he had no horns or tail.

Either to enact his revenge or simply to avoid arrest, Dürrenmatt left Laterano and apparently did not return until the end of his life. In this way, he evaded the Notarial Hall's law-enforcers.

By the time that Dürrenmatt became an old man, he came to rue his life choices.

Vermeil

Afterwards, while passing through a stretch of Siracusan wilderness, Dürrenmatt found and took pity on a dying young Vulpo girl.

"How could I look past a respected colleague, short one arm and lying in a pile of her own guts next to a big old tusker?"

A tuskbeast (presumably a boar) either surprised Vermeil or exceeded her expectations. While she managed to kill it herself, it mortally wounded her.

If Dürrenmatt did not exaggerate, then he had impressive medical abilities, to put Vermeil's bowels back in her stomach and also to amputate her ruined arm in that condition without killing her.

Just as impressive, before she recovered enough to walk again, the former mechanic managed to design and manufacture a new mechanical arm for Vermeil, from scratch.

Rhodes Island could not find another model like it anywhere, so he did not purchase it. We do not know the extent to which he purchased pre-made components or fabricated everything himself. Possibly in a cave, with a box of scraps.

When Vermeil awoke, Dürrenmatt introduced himself with an alias and lied about being a hunter like her. Vermeil saw through him, claiming that she didn't smell any dirt on him at all.

Never having seen a Sankta before, she remarked on the circle above his head and the wing-like things at his back. She made no mention of horns or tail.

After he showed her how to attach her new arm, she told him of her plans to seek revenge.

"Revenge, huh? Well, I can't decide your fate for you. But when you pull your bowstring with this arm, I hope you'll think about why it is we're alive, besides revenge. If you don't think enough, you might just end up like me.

"I don't want to hear you say 'I live for revenge.' That's too cliche. …Damn right. Totally played out."

So he did not decide to help her on her quest for vengeance, and neither did he try to stop her.

But some time after that, before she finished achieving her revenge, she contracted Oripathy.

And perhaps for the childless old Sankta, that was the last straw. He could not bear to see her die before him.

So he returned to Laterano to do what he could for her.

Final Rites

Regarding his sentence, he told Executor, "Justice? Maybe what I did was justified, Mister, if the Notarial Hall could find it in their hearts to forgive me. But it still wouldn't be anything to cheer about. Honestly, it just makes life seem like a big joke."

Given that Vermeil claims to smell her benefactor's blood on his final letter to her, and that we know he died in Lateran custody, it stands to reason that he received a death sentence for his crimes.

Yet it also seems that the Notarial Hall excused some of his crimes, and deemed him fit to have the time and agency to decide what to do with his legal possessions. As well as to hear and accept a final request.

"The above is my last will and testament in its entirety. However, I have one final, selfish request. In the forests of Siracusa, I met a one-armed Vulpo girl. She had long walked a single-minded path of revenge. In my compassion, I gave her aid. While this might have hurt her pride, I found myself moved by her stubborn determination to survive. I later learned that the aid I gave her only strengthened her obsession with revenge, which left me uneasy. I want to give her all that I have. Sadly, that is very little. Only a few sad heirlooms."

"Pardon the interruption, but there is no Vulpo on your list of kin. This will make our work rather difficult."

"As such, this is but a petty request from a childless Laterano citizen on his deathbed."

///

To Vermeil, Executor would confirm, "He sold all of his property, paid a number of additional fees, including those of the Notarial Hall, as well as the costs of your future medical treatment."

"But, why? I'm just some girl from the forest…"

"He wants you to live."

"And I'm asking why!"

"Because he believed you deserve to live."

///

"Thank you for accepting my request."

"It was the Notarial Hall's decision. I am merely executing my duties."

"Hah, sure enough. And while you're looking for Vermeil, I have another little request."

"Depending on the nature of the request, I may reject your verbal appeal. I would prefer you submit it in written form to the Notarial Hall."

"You're a real hardass, huh? Doesn't matter. It's just a little thing. Don't tell her anything about my past, if you can. Make up some story. Tell I died on the operating table."

"I do not understand the need for this request. Nor does it fit with the truth. You fled the Notarial Hall's justice for many years, and you shot dead…"

"Enough. What if I told you doing it this way would save you a lot of trouble in getting your job done?"

"If in my judgment I agree with your assessment, I will consider your request."

///

"As the report states, the heir is fickle, slow to trust, and difficult to communicate with.

"If the object insists on rejecting her benefit, according to regulations, I am permitted to abandon the task. But the client and my superiors issued a subordinating clause. I must execute it.

"'Let Vermeil live.' As this is a rather broad request, executing it will be quite complicated. It is my hope that you cooperate."

///

"Please take good care of her, Mr. Executor. Really, it could be good for you, too. Don't give me that look. You know what I mean. Get her out of that mud hole. Don't let her end up like me.

"Her. She's my legacy, though. My hopes and dreams. May the Lord bless her and keep her."

[golden-explosions-main]

[ * After a surprisingly short ride down the long cliffs. You end up in a field of some sort. Before being quickly surrounded by others. ]

[ * Lancer moves to give clarity and protection. ]

[ * The others seem to recognize Lancer. But still grumble something to him. ]

[ * They argue back and forth for a while. Becoming nonsensical with reasons and what abouts so long you realize you've been trekking through the land all the wall to the front doors of the castle by the time the conversations run dry. ]

[ * Seeing the castle this up close gives a sense of scale to everything. This is a true and honest castle in this spot of seemingly nowhere. It stands tall in the dark. Refusing to move or budge as it holds up. Looking up you see the pillar of Darkness. Going to the sky. Seemingly the source of this land. You notice the castle itself is cracked and stitched together with all manners of ways. All to make it stay together. Hues of purples and blue clash trying to reign over the castle. ]

After a few minutes of gawking and taking in the scenery, and even more uncounted minutes of listening to the arguing... Flowey becomes very bored and annoyed.

So, he puts on his best fake but handsome smile and speaks up and Frisk follows his lead.

They both proceed to solve this problem by being charming and royalty, attempting to convince the guard to freely let them in...

Or at least talk his ear off.

Flowey: "Howdy, my name is Asriel Dreemurr, Prince of Monsters, nice to meet you, but do the rules happen to say anything about the hero personally bringing people in? Because Suzy did, and my brilliantly esteemed best friend and my future Ambassador, Frisk is also deemed a hero from where we're from,"

Frisk: "He's also a hero too, he's just modest, he went into God Mode and broke an entire magical barrier that was blocking his people off from the rest of the world for like...a millennia,"

Flowey: "And I couldn't have broken anything without Frisk's Mercy and relentless kindness,"

He then widens his grin. "Now do you really think we deserve to be locked in a dungeon?"

Frisk: "We're also both 17 years old and still basically children. We're tall children who can legally drive and rent a car and enter into contracts and donate blood and-,"

Flowey: "Frisk!"

Frisk: "BUT YES! There should be a rule here about not locking children in dungeons, not until they're at least 21 anyway,"

Flowey: "Yeah, if my parents hear that we were put in a dungeon, they might do something drastic, like...start a war,"