#she’s gonna have so much fun when he’s confined into a human body after the theraprism ahahahahaa

[featherlouise]

Rough as hell first draft but

Hihi Gravity Falls fandom ashdxbnc

(Text says:

“Whoo boy!! Not bad for a meat sack!!”

I’m aware my handwriting is atrocious here)

[theladyismyshepard]

I love your characterizations of the daughters and all of your imagines they are fantastic! i was wondering would it be okay to request an imagine where the reader says to the daughters like during an argument or something,“you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid!” and they all react to her in different ways? plz take ur time with the imagines and don’t feel pressured/rushed as ik writing should be something that is fun and not feel like a chore, thank you for all the content you have written so far :)

@frustratinglyinquisitive also maybe this could double as your #28 prompt? 🥺👉👈

Why Does Everyone Wanna Kiss Me So Bad?

The sunset was shining bright enough to sting and obscure eyesight, but that didn’t stop you from staring up into the pink and orange hues. Every time you blinked, the phantom flash of the sun still danced along your eyelids, leaving a glare across your vision. You weren’t even bothered by it, not when this numbness had clung itself to you, leaving you idle and just there. You flexed your fingers, and it rattled the chains locked around your wrists, bringing you back to where you were.

The boxed confinement you were trapped in felt more of a cage rather than the carriage bumping along the rocky trail that led you to your new prison — yes, Castle Dimitrescu sounded to be just another form of punishment, though you were uncertain as to why you were to be moved from Heisenberg’s watch to Lady Dimitrescu’s estate. You could hardly call it a step up from the twisted games he forced you to play within his factory.

You were sure you were on borrowed time and it was nearly time to collect, and you were certain that time had come when the four Lords surrounded you with Mother Miranda playing the head of the beast, leaving you cowering on the floor. The familiar iron hammer and the stench of billowing cigar smoke was on your right.

Standing next to him was quite possibly one of the ugliest... things you’d ever seen. A cloak hid a majority of his body, but you had the suspicion that the misshaped person next to Heisenberg wasn’t entirely human... you got that vibe from everyone in the room. Especially the weird doll that couldn’t seem to reign in its excitement as it bounced in the veiled woman’s lap seated next to Mother Miranda.

There was nothing human about the golden eyes that peered into yours from under the brim of a wide hat. They seemed calculating, curious, if not a tad bit confused as they surveyed your weak form. You looked away, unable to handle the weight of the woman’s gaze, and that was how you caught Mother Miranda’s bright eyes cutting into you from behind her bird-like mask.

“Oh, how I have been waiting to meet you, little one.” her voice demanded respect, but all you could do was gawk. “You are a stubborn thing, I’ve heard.”

Her gaze slowly crept over to Heisenberg as she said it, and you couldn’t help but feel a tremor of fright at his angered snarl, his arms crossed petulantly. It was true, you had endured many weeks at the hands of the leather-clad man, and while he did his worst, you refused to succumb to his torture, though for how much longer, you couldn’t say.

“I cannot fathom what keeps you here, but there is nothing special about the common human.” said Mother Miranda, and the mounting irritation was crystal clear. “You might have one looking like a dog chasing its own tail, but let us see how you fare in Castle Dimitrescu.”

You could immediately tell who dwelled there with the way the woman wearing white was smiling like the cat who ate the canary. She was completely predatory and was feeding off of Heisenberg’s disgrace and fury, and between the two, you weren’t sure who the best option was, not when her eyes turned to you and she looked like she knew exactly what she wanted to do with you.

“Do not worry, Mother Miranda,” the woman promised, already moving to stand, and the way she towered over you had your neck craned straight upward. “It’s been some time since my daughters had a plaything.”

That comment alone had the other occupants of the room guffawing and whistling. Everyone seemed to thoroughly enjoy the prospect of her daughters getting their hands on you, even Heisenberg had his eyebrows arched in surprise. Who the hell are these girls? Mother Miranda seemed to know and that was all that mattered.

“You are about to see what real monsters are.”

And that was how you found yourself roughly chained up inside the carriage that guided you to Castle Dimitrescu. You weren’t entirely sure why it was such a slap in the face to Heisenberg, but he seemed rather indignant as he loaded you up, spitting insults through the whole process.

You couldn’t say for sure how long you had been traveling, but it was enough to have all of your joints achey and your ass numb by the time it was all said and done. Hell, it was long enough to feel the temperature drop as you trekked back around the mountains that stood between the factory and the castle. Though that wasn’t to say that you were in any big rush to get there. In fact, your heart dropped when the carriage came to an abrupt halt.

Panic gripped at your heart, and it felt as though fingers squeezed tightly around it. It left you motionless where you sat, wide eyes glued to the door that you were shoved in through. You could hear Heisenberg muttering and rustling as he approached, but aside from that, you couldn’t hear the distinct clanking of his iron hammer. He had such little faith in your survival skills that he didn’t even bother with arming himself to release you. Not that he needed to... You’ve seen what he can become, and you’ve seen what he houses in his factory. He’d kill you dead in a few seconds flat if you tried anything.

But at this point, what did you have to lose? Mother Miranda made it very clear that you were to be eliminated at the hands of these daughters, so did it really matter if you died at the doorstep or in the dungeon? You might have accepted death, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t put up a last fight out of pure stubbornness. So that was how you had every intention of kicking forcefully at the door once it began creeping open to have him stumble back, possibly cracking him straight in the nose in the process, but that didn’t go as planned right off the bat.

Not when the door was nearly ripped right off the hinges in the haste to open, leaving you jarred, mouth hanging. The sunlight was now faded and replaced by the beams of the moon, but it was a bright night, leaving you capable of seeing that this was definitely not Heisenberg. And neither was she... or her. Uh oh.

“Mother! She’s here!” squealed the redheaded girl closest to you, clapping happily.

“Thank you for the gift, Mother,” said the brunette, her smirk not reaching her dead eyes.

“We will not disappoint you.” promised the blonde, her eyes observing your every move like a hawk.

“Have fun, daughters, but do remember that this one comes special from Mother Miranda, so do not forget to thank her.” their mother instructed, as if you weren’t there.

“Thank you, Mother Miranda,” all three said in unison before three different pairs of hands grabbed whichever part of you that they could.

Heisenberg clicked his tongue from where he leaned against the side of the carriage. He had an arm crossed while the other brought a cigar nestled between two fingers to his lips. You couldn’t read his eyes from behind his circular sunglasses, but you could read the entertainment in his toothy smile before he took a drag. When he blew it out into your direction, his satisfied grin spread again.

“Now, you have fun now, too, ya hear?” He mocked, chuckling as he turned on his heel, mounted the carriage, and prompted the horses to carry him off into the night.

“We’re gonna have lots of fun.” giggled the redhead, her smile the widest of the daughters as she tugged at your arm, dragging you along the pathway towards the castle.

“Not if I get to her first,” the brunette chimed in, her own grip on your other wrist tightening and pulling, almost like she was trying you get you away from the other.

“Who said either of you get the first turn?” the blonde interrupted, frown etched into her face as she tangled her fingers into the collar of your shirt.

“Enough,” drawled Lady Dimitrescu, voice barely more than a bored mumble, but it still had the daughters zipping their lips. “Bela, you are the oldest, and less likely to break her before your other sisters get a turn, so you may have the first turn.”

The blonde grinned brightly while the other two scowled but saying nothing in front of their mother. Your eyes couldn’t decide where to stay as you glanced between all four women as they finally led you through the entrance of the castle. You noticed that the temperature didn’t really increase from taking shelter, the walls giving off their own chill to substitute for the lack of outside wind.

You didn’t even have time to marvel at the interior before Bela was tugging at you with renewed eagerness. You caught the slight growl from the brunette’s direction, but one glare from the Lady and it ceased. What the hell was really going on here? You never had time to process anything before sister after sister said something that left you reeling.

“Aww, her heart’s racing!” announced the redhead, her eyes wide and unblinking as they stared at your chest. “Please let me-”

“Daniela, no,” snapped Lady Dimitrescu sternly, her frown lines on display. “You will be last, and that’s that.”

Daniela’s face twitched in her attempt to bite her tongue to prevent her argument from bursting forth. It didn’t stop her from turning and giving the brunette a glare however. You gasped when her body dissolved into a swarm of bugs before your very eyes. They dispersed and flew this way and that, and you honestly don’t know why it still shocked you when the brunette followed the same exit style. A nose pressed against the side of your neck and you jolted so hard that you nearly broke free of the hand that was now caressing your shoulder.

“Such a jittery, little thing,” whispered Bela so quietly that her following inhale was louder. “Though I hardly smell the sweet scent of terror... Is this one broken, mother?”

You couldn’t help it, you had to chuckle at the complete honesty in Bela’s question. Your lack of fright baffled this girl almost as much as she baffled you altogether, and suddenly you were staring each other down. Her eyes were narrowed suspiciously as she cut her gaze up and down your body. Even Lady Dimitrescu arched a finely sculpted brow at you, seeming more interested now than she did among the other Lords.

“Mother Miranda assures there is nothing special about this one.” said Lady Dimitrescu.

“Why do you not fear me?” demanded Bela, almost sounding offended, her grip on your shoulder tightening. “Your heart is pounding but you aren’t oozing that smell that I like!”

“It’s kinda hard to fear death when you don’t even care about living anymore.” You deadpanned without much feeling, your eyes finding the ground more interesting. “Heisenberg rid me of everything that made me who I used to be.”

“And just who were you before my dear uncle dug his claws into you?” pressed Bela, and you refrained yourself from showing any outward reaction to their connection. You swallowed as you looked her dead in the eye now.

“Someone who would have the common sense to know just how dangerous you are.” You answered, and her brow furrowed.

“Who are you now?” She questioned quietly, her eyes softening a bit under the chandelier light. All you could do was shrug, you had no concrete answer for her, yet you knew you had to supply something.

“Someone who thinks that being abducted by three beautiful women isn’t exactly the worst case scenario,” you chuckled mirthlessly, the bitter smile on your face cutting into your cheeks almost painfully.

Bela stared at you almost dumbfounded before she had to look at her mother, almost as if to double check that she indeed heard correctly before she burst into a fit of giggles. Lady Dimitrescu didn’t even meet her eye, she was too busy staring into your soul. Only when your eyes fell to your feet did you hear her heels clicking away up the winding staircase.

“Remember what she’s here for, dear,” she drawled, never turning back, and leaving you alone with Bela.

“If you’re gonna kill me, just get it over with.” You spat, attempting to sound brave rather than defeated.

Bela’s smile was almost animalistic with the way blood smeared across her lips and stained her teeth, and you couldn’t help but to feel like the prey when she took slow, deliberate steps around you.

“Oh, no, where is the fun in that?” Bela countered, reaching out to graze over whatever part she could touch as she continued to stalk around you in circles, taking you all in. “You are my pet now.”

“I thought I was a plaything.” You couldn’t help but throw back into her face, and you were surprised when Bela merely cocked her head instead of getting angered by your outburst.

“Mother Miranda might not find anything special about you, but call me fascinated.” said Bela, stopping in front of you, her fingertips caressing your throat. “You belong to me now.”

“Us,” corrected a sudden voice behind you, and the haze that was settling over you in Bela’s presence was lifted when you jerked forward.

You tried to whirl around on your heel out of reflex to back away, but Bela’s fingers dipped from your throat to grip at the collar of your shirt to keep you still and facing her. You flinched away from the sudden hand that tangled in the bottom of your hair, pulling your head back until it was resting against a shoulder. Brown hair cascaded down into your eyes.

“Mother Miranda gave her to all of us.” corrected the brunette, the edge in her voice making it like steel.

“Cassandra’s right,” sang Daniela in a sing song voice, and it had a shiver running down your spine, which prompted a round of wild giggling. “Did you like that, pet?”

“If we’re being technical,” Bela piped up with an eye roll, trying to pull you closer and failing when both Daniela and Cassandra tightened their own grips on you. “Mother Miranda gave her to us to tear apart, so she wasn’t meant for anyone.”

“Buuuuuuut?” You interrupted, hoping to add a touch of humor to your case.

Daniela giggled and Bela shook her head in mild amusement, but you found that Cassandra was the more difficult one to crack. She didn’t offer a single facial expression as her eyes surveyed every inch of your body, and you couldn’t tell if she was appreciating the view or if she was sizing up which part of you she wanted to rip off and take for herself.

These three women spoke so callously and so nonchalant right in front of you. These three women were what Mother Miranda referred to as “monsters” compared to the actual beasts you had seen lurking within Heisenberg’s factory. These three women were spattered in blood that you somehow knew wasn’t theirs, and they wouldn’t stop touching you. Hm.

“Aren’t you funny,” Cassandra said nearly monotonous, but her smirk was on full display, and you cursed the light, fluttering feel of your chest.

“I try,” you whispered, afraid that speaking any louder would be taken as a threat to these crazed women, but you did look her in the eye to gauge her reaction.

“Can we keep this one, Bela, please?” whined Daniela, pouting at the blonde.

“I don’t think mother would allow it though.” Bela worried, finally releasing her hold on your shirt, and that had Cassandra and Daniela pulling you closer (and almost apart).

“She is ours to do as we please, we’d kill her if she tried anything.” snapped Cassandra, looking like the whole situation was stupid to her.

“Obviously she will not try to escape!” insisted Daniela, nodding her head furiously towards who you were guessing was the older sister, before turning to you. “Right?”

Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela were all looking at you expectantly, and you couldn’t help but feel warm under the spotlight. You could practically see the thoughts flicking through Bela’s calculating eyes. Cassandra was cool and reserved as her eyes gave nothing away, but her wicked smirk showed she wanted something from you, whatever that might be. Daniela’s eyes were intense as they bored into you, and her smile was almost unhinged, and honestly who were you to break it?

“I could never say no to three pretty girls.” You flirted, wagging your eyebrow to each sister, and the response was immediate.

Bela’s mouth parted in a silent gasp before she latched onto the front of your shirt again and started giggling. Cassandra looked entirely predatory now as her eyes flashed and her smirk showed all of her teeth, her own chuckles slipping out. Daniela, who was curled around your arm the whole time, had stars in her eyes at your answer and she smiled widely, throwing her own cackling into the mix, and suddenly it was a symphony.

“I want her first,” pleaded Daniela, eyes never leaving you.

“Mother said it’s my turn with the pet!” said Bela, tugging at you again.

“Why should we get her after she’s been used?” Cassandra argued, her arm now wrapped around you from behind.

“I won’t break her!” snapped Bela, her pulling useless when it was a deadlock between three pairs of hands.

“I don’t care!” cried Daniela, one arm curled around yours and her other hand reaching up to grab your opposite shoulder, locking you in. “I want her!”

You swallowed past your suddenly dry throat. The three sisters were not only talking about a possibility of keeping you around, but it sounded as though they were fighting over you. Your cheeks were aflame as you averted your eyes.

“Look who’s bashful all of a sudden,” jested Cassandra, both her hands falling to your hips. “Where’s all that talk now?”

“I can smell you blushing.” Daniela interjected, sniffing aloud and moaning. “You smell so good... we need to make you blush often.”

“Are we sure we can hide this from mother?” Bela asked one last time, almost like she was seeking permission from her younger sisters now. Daniela and Cassandra shrugged.

“We’ll just have to find out, now won’t we?” You pressed, looking to solidify your place among them... you’d take the position of “pet” over the one of “food” any day.

“Brave little thing,” Cassandra cooed, her fingers rubbing circles on your hips. “I need you with me.”

“Dammit I said it’s my turn!” snarled Bela, finally poking and prying at her sisters fingers locked around you.

“Just because you’re the oldest-!”

“You’re damn right I’m the oldest, and I-”

“You look so stupid,” spat Cassandra petulantly, having enough with going nowhere in the argument, and you could see that this was about to get old quick if you didn’t ease some of the tension.

“You all wanna kiss me so bad it makes you all look stupid.” You sucked your teeth between your lips when it grew deadly silent.

Bela had a crease between her brow as she stared at you in shock, uncertain if she heard you right. Cassandra was a blank slate as she absorbed you taking her insult and turning it back around on her as well. Daniela was wide eyed as she gaped at you for a full five seconds before she snorted and her megawatt smile lit up her entire face.

“I won’t let them get rid of you.” Daniela promised, and you couldn’t recall the last time that she blinked.

“Okay, okay,” sighed Bela, glaring at her sister. “We’re all going to keep her.”

“I hope I don’t break you.” chuckled Cassandra, and coupled with her breath so close to your ear, it had warmth flaring in the pit of your stomach.

“Don’t get bashful on me, now,” you smirked back, relishing in the giggles that surrounded you.

“Come along, plaything,” quipped Bela, winking at you as she dragged you along, the sisters following along with her this time. “We’ve got to show you your new home.”

Wild giggling echoed throughout the castle, and it was becoming your new favorite tune.

[sanguinescorpios]

Still Alive

dream x f!reader

PART ONE

summary | Just under 20 years ago, the world slipped from humanity’s grasp and fell into the lap of mutant creatures. While most humans hid from the variants, some, like reader, grew restless in the bases they grew up in and needed out. What will happen when reader realizes that she doesn’t stand a chance in the wild on her own, and can something deeper blossom from a survival-based alliance? 

warnings | none!

word count | 1.7k

I had never seen a flower before. At least, not that I could remember. Things like that didn’t exist within the confines of the city walls, the beautiful, living things. The things that reminded you you were alive. My gaze fixated on the object before I even knew what I was looking at. Its petals swirled with pinks and purples, hues I had only seen in worn-out wool and peeling paint. Deep emerald leaves adorned a similarly colored stem, all woven together intricately and standing out amidst the field of brown. I marveled at the plant, bending down to hold it delicately between two fingers. It was incredible, even better than in photographs.

I spent months looking through the old textbooks Zoe had found, simply admiring the anatomy of different flowers and plants from the Old World. She was so excited to show me. I can still picture her jumping up and down as she entered my room in her tattered sports jersey and two-sizes-too-big jeans, a huge stack of books cradled like a child in her arms. Her tight curls were always pulled up into two buns, perfectly placed on the top of her head and bouncing with her childlike movements. I had quirked up an eyebrow at her as she wordlessly dropped her findings on my cot with a thump.

“Books,” she had said, looking at me with a newfound glimmer in her eye, “textbooks. We can learn!”

There was plenty of other information in those textbooks, but the flowers fascinated me. They caught my attention not just for their beauty, but for their mechanics, too. As I read, I began to appreciate how their roots anchored them to the earth, how their stems acted as passageways for water and nutrients, how they came in so many shapes, shades, and sizes. I wanted to know everything I could about them. I had always been that way, I guess.

A nearly foreign feeling emerged in me as a smile curled its way onto my face. The muscles were rusty from a long hibernation and they weren’t sure how to react to the sudden use. Dust found its way into my eyes as my cheeks rose with the grin, so I brushed it away quickly. That, I was used to.

“A cosmos,” I said to no one but myself. Of course, it was a cosmos.

The world before me was barren, a bleak expanse of land that seemed to never end. How the fuck was I supposed to survive out here? Despite my extensive studying, I wasn’t necessarily well-versed in survival. I had no protection out here, no roof over my head, and no soldiers with weapons on watch for intruders, or worse, for variants. A shiver ran down my spine at the thought. Variants were the one thing I knew almost nothing about, despite how hard I tried to get information from the watchmen and neighboring families. In all honesty, we didn’t know much about them, just that they didn’t seem to like us too much. One week the world was our terrain and the next it was theirs. I had never met one and I wasn’t planning on doing so, but I no longer had control over that. I chose to leave and there was no turning back.

That didn’t make it any less terrifying.

Adjusting my pack on my back, I grabbed my flask and poured a bit of water over the stubborn flower.

“Hope we make it, little guy.”

One last look at the distant confines I used to call home, then I was walking again, this time never turning back.

. . .

As it turns out, walking across one huge expanse of dust and dirt isn’t very fun! In fact, it’s fucking brutal. I had no idea where I was going, that much was clear not even ten minutes into the journey. Leave the city, that was my only plan. A shit plan, in hindsight. I reached into one of the many pockets of my pack and pulled out my water bottle. Last sip, that’s not good. If I could just go a little longer and reach the forest, I’d be okay. Much of the landscape had been torn apart over the years, but there were still occasional patches of green, at least that’s what I had been told. Just a little farther, surely I would reach it soon.

The hours dragged on, all melding together into one blurry week of sleeping in a ripped tent in the middle of nowhere and barely eating or drinking. When my eyes focused on a small dot of green in the distance, I nearly brought my hands up to rub the mirage from them, but I knew better than to do anything like that before washing. Especially after the week I’ve had, too much dust and not enough water.

I had been preparing for my lunch break when I spotted it, excited to get my hands on my tenth granola bar of the week. All desire for a break left my body, replaced by the desperate need to get to that forest before nightfall. There could be water in there, shelter, food, the possibilities were endless. I picked up my pace, feet moving with fervor despite my obvious exhaustion. My pack threatened to slip off my back, but I ignored it.

I reached the edge of the forest by nightfall, a shudder running through me at the thought of spending the night alone in the dense environment. Anyone or anything could be living here, and they could be hungry. The ground didn’t feel safe, too open and vulnerable of a place to sleep, but the sliver of moonlight shining down on me wasn’t enough to find anywhere else. This would have to do.

A few restless hours passed before I had finally fallen into a deep sleep, my back pressed uncomfortably against a tree and my pack serving as a makeshift pillow. I didn’t bother to set up camp, figuring I’d pick up and move in the morning anyways. I expected to get a few good hours of sleep at least, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, I was shaken awake by unfamiliar hands and a gruff voice.

“Get the fuck up,” the voice barked as my eyes adjusted to the morning light, peering up at the shaded figure looming over me.

“Wha-what?”

“Get. The fuck. Up.” The figure grabbed my pack from underneath my head and I groaned at the rude awakening. In my early morning haziness, I barely questioned the individual’s orders. My body moved before my brain told it to, pulling itself out of the fetal position and standing up, unsteady but sturdy enough.

As I rose to my feet, I took a good look at the person for the first time. He stood tall, towering over my frame with long legs and broad shoulders. Underneath his hood, a mask shielded most of his face from me; it looked to be made of some sort of wood and with the jagged smile that was carved into it, it was borderline terrifying. Dark blond hair toppled out and around the thing, curling messily at the ends. He sported muted green cargo pants and a thick belt bearing a multitude of knives and other weapons I didn’t even want to imagine. A black T-Shirt spread across his torso, strong arms emerging from the sleeves and gloved hands gripping a satchel against his hip. If this went south, I was outmatched.

“What made you think sleeping on the ground was a good idea?” he hissed out a few minutes later as he led me through the trees, taking angry steps at least two yards ahead of me.

“I didn’t have many other options,” I responded simply, not sure what he wanted from me and still groggy with sleep.

“Well, you picked the stupidest option.”

I rolled my eyes, who did this guy think he was? Sure, the ground wasn’t the smartest choice, but it was all I had! I huffed, kicking at a rock as he stopped to check...something — who knows what he was doing.

“You got a name, mask boy?”

He shushed me, holding up his index finger as he looked around at our surroundings.

“It was just a question-”

“Dream,” he cut me off, “now shush.”

He said it simply, like it wasn’t the most absurd name anyone had ever heard, and went right back to surveying the space around us. I poked my head around at him, trying and failing to get this mystery man’s attention.

“Is that your real name?” I inquired, making awkward eye contact with the mesh-covered eyeholes of his mask and wishing I could see his face when he answered. Maybe then I’d know if he was bluffing or not. Or if he planned on killing me.

“It’s what you’ll call me.”

There was a finality in the way he said it, a sternness in his voice that I wasn’t about to argue with. A beat passed in utter silence, me waiting for him to continue the conversation and him already three steps ahead of me on the path. Dream isn’t a chatty guy, noted.

I jogged to catch up to him, slowing as I reached his side. He didn’t seem like he was going to kill me as soon as night fell on the already dark forest, but keeping him in my sight was the safest bet.

“You’re not gonna ask my name?” He turned to face me, raising an eyebrow and bobbing his head as if to say ‘go on’. I gave him my name and he grunted in response — men.

He persevered through the forest, cutting away branches and leaving a green mess in our wake. I had no idea where we were going or why I was following his lead so easily, but he seemed confident and I trusted his confidence more than my own.

“So…” I dragged on, twiddling my thumbs and shooting him a look, “do we have a plan here or are we just gonna wander for the next five hours of daylight?”

He rolled his eyes, letting out an “ugh” as he pushed through another set of leaves. I wasn’t wrong; the sun would be setting soon, and based on how he reacted this morning, he wasn’t a night owl.

“Our camp is set up a few miles north. We should get there before nightfall.”

Did he say our?

[angeli-marco-writes]

Sam Holland - Don't Tell

A/N & WC - This is not meant to glorify or condone adultery in any way. I do not know Sam, nor do I claim to, this is a work of fiction. This was written before Sam posted about a new girlfriend: no disrespect is meant towards her. I do not believe Sam would do this: it is fictitious. 3.5k.

Warnings - Adultery, explicit smut, unprotected sex, swearing, reader is the other woman, swearing, brief allusions to SA. 18+.

Summary - When Sam booty calls you, you can't deny him, but will sexual satisfaction be enough? Or will you always want from him what you know you can't have?

THIS WASN’T HOW YOU’D PLANNED to spend your Saturday afternoon, but Sam called, and who were you to deny him?

‘Come over at 3.’ He texted you. ‘She’s leaving then.’

No kisses, no emojis, no frills, no sign off, nothing. You’re just a nameless number in his phone. You knew what it meant. You’ve done it plenty of times before, so you know the drill, it’s just not exactly pleasant.

With ample time, you left your house, your new place only a couple of streets over from the Holland household, and you walked as inconspicuously as possible. Your coat wrapped tightly around you, you refused to make eye contact with anyone on the whole walk there.

You know the drill so well by now that you know not to stick to the front of the house, but instead to head around the back—straight into his bedroom window—via the bins. Theoretically, with no one home and Sam in the living room, you could walk in the front door, but his room is safest since she has always refused to enter—’just in case.’

Your heart thuds against your chest while you hold your breath, praying not to be heard downstairs the second your feet land on his floor. You press yourself flat against the wall behind Sam’s door, lips pursed and eyes squeezed shut, every muscle in your body clenched to the maximum. You’ve trained yourself to stay so quiet that the only sounds are your pounding, racing heart and the blood rushing in your ears.

Thankfully, before cramp can override you, you hear the words that give you the all clear.

“Bye, love!” he calls down the driveway, followed by a half hearted air kiss, a deafening crunching on the gravel driveway, and the front door at last clicking shut.

Your body finally relaxes, limbs falling loosely around you while you release one of the longest held breaths you’ve ever had.

You creak open Sam’s bedroom door, ready for him to meet you, and shrug your coat off, throwing it on the floor alongside your converse when you hear him coming upstairs. He gets like this, heavy steps and heaved breaths like they’re a strain on his body, and it usually means he’s extra horny.

“What took so long, lover boy?” you tease, standing scantily clad in his door frame, leaning against the painted wood.

His eyes darken with lust as he approaches you, his shadow from the landing already overpowering.

This isn’t like any sex or ‘relationship’ you’ve ever been in before. It’s risky, and that risk makes it so much hotter. Always leaving the door open just a crack so that the two of you could be found only by those closest to Sam, the chance of being caught together in the street on the off chance you go for drinks; after all, your reputation precedes you. But it’s the adulterous element of your relationship that makes it so fun. The fact that it’s usually after his girlfriend leaves that you’re called over to relieve his not-so-little ‘problem’, the little marks you trail across the hidden parts of his body, occasionally being risky enough to plant one on the juncture of his neck and shoulder just to test the waters.

After being together for over two years, she still refuses to do anything with him. Of course you respect such a thing: if she wants to wait till marriage and is able to resist Sam for that long, props to her. It’s just not always ideal for all party members. Sure, they’ve kissed, a little groping, but by this point, with how little Sam's lass has done with him, he’s immensely riled up.

He really likes his girlfriend, of course he does, and he’s spoken to her about this time and time again, asking why they couldn’t just do something more than a PG-12 touching session. She simply shook her head and smiled every time, “I’m saving myself for marriage, Sammy.” This infuriated him hugely. He’s been with a girl or two (or ten) before her, so is very expectant, but being twenty-two has its burdens. He isn’t anywhere near ready for marriage, but is increasingly sexually frustrated. So after an insane year of getting by with absolutely no action apart from the rare lap dance and make out, he knew he had to do something besides use his own hand to relieve the tension that was making him a complete prick.

He respects his girlfriend enough not to pressure her. Sam isn’t a bad person and so he isn’t going to coerce his girlfriend into sex she doesn’t want, seeing it as utterly immoral, so he did the only thing he could think of, and turned to the girl next door, quite literally. Not that it’s any more moral, but here you are.

As soon as he reaches you, the smirk etched upon his face is perfect, just what you expect, and his hands grip your waist tightly.

“You think you’re so cheeky,” he smirks, and his lips crash onto yours the next moment, his hands spanning your sides. His affection halts as he smacks the side of your ass. “I’ll show you cheeky.”

You don’t let him get another word in before you’re kissing him again, furiously this time, hooking one leg around his waist as the other flies to his neck, your clasp anything but gentle.

You’ve known of the Holland family for a while, living a street away, going to school with the boys and your mother having ‘neighbourhood meetings’ with the family. You, however, had had nothing to do with them, never getting involved in their ordeals, not really.

Keeping a resolutely ‘good girl’ demeanour all through school was difficult, especially when you wanted to rebel so earnestly. The first step was house parties, beginning when you were in year ten, everyone getting shit-faced and ending up giving sloppy hand-jobs in someone’s downstairs loo. That much you weren’t a fan of, so you waited until the end of school, A-Levels secured to be who you wanted to be. Trench coats, docs and chucks at every turn, short shorts and fishnets. Lots of hair dye came next, followed by a ‘scandalous’ collection of piercings, and a significant body count for someone your age, or so conservative old women perceived. Fuck them, your body your choice.

Times changed in a year and a half, though not that much. Mid way through your rebellion, you got a good job, your own place, and became a call girl, essentially. Sam’s call girl only, considering your regrettable soft spot for him.

You couldn’t care less though, even though it’s adulterous, Sam is incredible in bed. He frequently tells you the same.

“I think you’re rubbing off on me,” he murmurs, “even when she was kissing me I could only think of you.” His lips are inches from yours with your breath mingling in the confined space of his doorway as you pant.

He hasn’t touched you yet, or even moved you to the bed. You feel yourself blush a little, scared fractionally by what he’s saying but mostly flattered. At least that’s what you’re telling yourself. It makes you feel like your old self is creeping in again, the girl next door that no one fell for.

“I like it when you get all shy on me, really naïve, shows me you’re a human and not just a sex goddess. My sex goddess.”

You pull his lips to yours with a burning passion, desperate to feel him up against you. Your palms settle this time on Sam's cheeks, angling his face to get the most out of the kiss, and your hold remains resolute so that he can’t pull away easily. This isn’t your dominance though, simply a ploy to hide your flushed cheeks from his prying eyes, the blush that’s been caused by his kind words. You want to keep him here long enough that you can claim the blush is from the breathlessness and the actions of his tongue slipping inside your mouth with an urgency you haven’t felt with him for a while. Is this the day that changes everything?

He backs you to the bed, walking unsteadily, and pushes you down onto the springy mattress. It pitches beneath you as he joins you, sitting by your side, his hand gravitating towards your thigh.

“Hey, what is it?” you ask, a slight hesitant stammer to your words.

“Nothing,” he sulks. “Just dunno how long I can keep doing this.”

His baleful eyes hover over your decolletage, and before you can protest and try to get him to open up about the whole situation, discussing the fact that maybe you should just quit while you’re ahead and come clean (because to be fair, it’s beginning to weight on your conscience too, even though you’ve never met said girlfriend), he kisses you, pinching your nipple through your bra until it forms a pebbled bud.

“Gonna take it all out on you,” he hisses, moving his kisses to your jaw. “All this pent up need from missing your body. God, feel so good beneath me.”

He swings a leg over to straddle your legs, and begins a ferocious attack on your neck with his teeth. You’ll have fun at work tomorrow, trying to hide them from your co-workers, one of them (on a temp basis, at least) being Sam’s twin. Harry cottoned on pretty easy, and won’t say a word, because he doesn’t want to deal with Sam’s temper when he’s been denied sex for too long. He likes Sam’s girlfriend, sure, but she doesn’t compromise on anything and looks down her nose at the lot of them, so he considers it fair play. And besides, with his track record, he really doesn’t have a leg to stand on.

Unwittingly, your hips buck up to meet his, feeling his throbbing need pressing against your pelvis, only for him to draw his body away from you, a bruising kiss being pressed to your lips the next moment. All in a flurry, your top is pulled down, your chest revealed to him.

“Bloody love your tits,” he purrs, a feral grin contorting his freckled face.

He rolls your pert bud between the rough pads of his fingers, palming at the other breast so as not to neglect it, only swapping when you’re beginning to writhe under him. His grin only increases.

“Sam… please.”

He knows what you want when you whine that way, so he sits up on his shins, and lets you tear his shirt open. Button by button, you watch as every inch of his pale chest is bared to you, his happy trail coaxing you lower.

“Get on with it, then,” he warns, clamping a hand around your hair in order to control your movements. He does this a lot, it’s his main power move. “They’re too damn tight now you’re around.”

You can definitely see that, the denim of his jeans pulled taut around his torso, the waistband of his boxers peeking above. He begins to pluck at your nipples again while you fumble with his buckle and zip, eventually tugging both items of clothing down at once. He stands, his lanky frame just a blur of white and freckles as he removes every last item, prowling back to you on the bed.

You, however, have other ideas, tugging him down with a grip on his shoulders until he’s helpless beneath you. In the time he was distracted with shucking his jeans off at last, you peeled your own shirt off and put your bra right. Sam’s a boob man, always has been, and takes great pleasure in fastening and unfastening your bras as much as he can, nestling into your chest for the time you spend together.

Since your last rodeo, you’ve gained some weight, and filled out a tad more, something Sam seems to notice right about now, especially as your chest hovers just inches from his face.

“Well? Are you gonna stare at them all day or take it off?”

This man… this man has the fucking audacity to lick his lips as one hand works on the hooks at the back of your bra, the other skimming the edges of the cups before it falls into his hands and he flings it across the room, knocking something off his dresser.

As soon as it's out of his way, he seems to forget everything apart from you, his eyes mesmerised by your chest, his mouth gaping a little, his eyes lingering on your hardened nipples for perhaps just a moment too long. You sigh to yourself, letting your knees dig into his navy comforter before your fingers wrap around his hand and place it onto your right breast. You know that, if you let him stare long enough, you’ll get nothing done. You need this release as much as he does. He takes the message, though, and begins kneading the flesh with a need you haven’t seen from him before. You even catch a wolfish grin when your face contorts into a silent ‘o’, overcome with pleasure. He tweaks your one nipple, and leans up to capture the other in his kiss-swollen lips, lavishing kisses around the sensitive area. You can’t help your nails leaving faint scratch marks in their wake over his freckled shoulders, tracing the silhouettes beneath his skin of muscle and bone, finding constellations within the freckles until he’s quaking beneath your delicate touch…

“Why’re you being such a tease?” he whines.

He has a point, you’re grinding down on his clothed cock in tandem with his playing with your boobs, your core hovering over his hard member, but it’s only fair with the stimulation he’s offering you. Just to shut him up, in one swift move you pull his boxers down and reach down to grasp him, stroking a couple of times before inching down, swallowing his aching length into your welcoming, warm walls.

Your moans create a heavenly sympathy, even as you stop for a moment to adjust to his size a little more, placing your hands on his pecs before grinding down on him. His hips begin to move, thrusting upwards and into you, finding a satisfying pace in tandem for you both as you ride him like there’s no tomorrow.

“Baby…” he moans, reaching out with his lips puckered to wrap them around your exposed nipple, suckling viciously, hard enough to hurt just a little.

“Stand up,” you command authoritatively, with a softness to your tone despite.

He grows harder inside of you, barely suppressing a groan, but his plan fails from shock when you bend over, clenching the foot of his bed so tightly your knuckles begin to turn white.

Casting a sensual glance over your shoulder, you bat your lashes and coax him the only way you know how, a wiggle of your bum added to help convince him; “Fuck me, Sammy…”

Your gasp is shrill and loud when he enters your craving core from behind, your knees nearly buckling when a stream of expletives falls from his lips once he grabs your hips, settling there. You’re sure to have hand-shaped imprints there tomorrow, but you don’t care, and apparently neither does Sam as he continues to thrust into you at an inhuman pace.

Breathy moans escape your lips as your nails find purchase in the sheets, now crumpled in your clenched fists. The only thing that fills your ears other than skin slapping against skin is the myriad of colourful words spilling from Sam in a groan, right down your ear.

“y/n… please…” he hums nonsensically, his lips finding their way to your shoulder blade and neck, kissing you, suckling.

He’s such a hypocrite: one rule for him, one rule for you, just because he’s got a girlfriend and is too pussy to break up with her even though his needs aren’t being met. For a brief moment, your body being used for his pleasure—and bringing you simultaneous heavenly satisfaction—you’re able to forget the consequences of your fornications.

They slip your mind once again the second one of his rough hands slowly makes its way down your front, finding your clit as he begins to rub harsh circles on it.

“Fuck…” you cry out, only for the heel of that hand to press into your pelvis, the other snaking around to your neck, applying the faintest pressure. Your walls tighten around him at the double stimulation.

His hips begin to move faster, blissful moans filling the room in symphony as you both near your highs, his tip grazing your special spot on every single thrust.

“C’mon,” he purrs in your ear, “can feel how close you are…” the pressure on your engorged pearl becomes a constant, and your body begins to spasm with unbridled pleasure. “Come.”

You do, and fireworks spark behind your eyes, setting off a train reaction in your brain, your walls clenching and your body collapsing, chest first, onto the edge of the bed. You must’ve cried out at some point, but your scream became but a gasp with his hand snug around your throat.

His thrusts slow, and he aids you onto the bed by your waist, but you roll away from him, aware that he hasn’t climaxed yet. He follows you down as your fingers link around his neck, but he’s not satisfied with that—as the smirk playing on his lips, causing dimples in his freckles, tells you—so he hovers above you on his knees. The hairs on his shins grate against the duvet cover so he shifts, but your hands move from his neck to his cheeks, pulling him closer to tangle your tongues together. His erection teases your wet folds while you’re lost in the movements of your mouths, and before you know it, he’s entering you again, and your hands are getting lost in his dark, silky locks, his one hand roughly kneading your breast. His thrusts recommence at a slower pace than before, his heels digging into the mattress as his groans overpower yours in the otherwise silent room.

“Shit… oh my God—” he hisses.

He begins to move faster, so you tug at his hair, revelling in the praises he offers, eliciting various heavy moans from his preoccupied mouth in between kisses. His warm breath and the resverberation of the moan vibrate across your lips, causing your hips to rock further into his, your legs wrapping around his toned torso to give him better access to your eager core. His movements become deeper as your breathing becomes even more escalated with high pitched moans tearing from your throat each time he hits your g-spot so perfectly. The knock-on effect sends him into an even more euphoric state, and before you know it, he’s groaning your name down your ear, and painting your walls white.

“Yes, Sammy…”

Your nails leave scratch marks all over his back from the sheer height of pleasure you’re experiencing, and that seems to be what sent him over the edge, his cum seeping into you as you milk his cock. He throbs inside you, his pelvis hitting you perfectly as he thrusts lazily while emptying himself. With one final press of his long, skilled thumb and digits over your sensitive nipple and a harsh bite to your pulse point just below your ear, the bundle of lust in your stomach becomes undone as you finish once again.

Before you’re fully recovered, he’s pulling out and leaving you empty as you lie together for a moment on opposite sides of the bed, no contact other than your pinky fingers linked and overlapping in between you. Except… despite the pleasure, you’re not satisfied. Not at all. And you know, in your heart, that this can’t happen again.

“Don’t tell anyone, please.”

“As fucking if,” you mumble.

“You ok?” he asks after a moment.

“Yes, just fine,” you snap, and roll off the bed, beginning to ferret around for your clothes.

“y/n, no…” Sam moves to grapple for you, “why are you leaving?”

“Because I’m done being treated like shit by you. Used as your fuck-toy when you’re too much of a pussy to deal with your girlfriend… I’m done, Sam.”

He’s up and off the bed, shucking his jeans on with great force that causes him to trip back onto the bed as you adjust your top and zip your skirt back up.

“y/n!”

“What!” you bellow right back at him.

He shuffles his feet on the carpet, and moves to speak, but his jaw just hangs open like a fish, nothing coming out.

“Yeah, I’m done here, Sam. Don’t booty-call me again.”

A weary voice from behind you calls out, “Sam?”

Shit.

This is bad. This is very bad. But what can you do? You’re the other woman, he’s the one choosing to commit adultery: why is that your problem? He can deal with his (clearly very angry) girlfriend, so livid she’s shaking, once you’re gone.

“Yeah. Your ‘don’t tell’ plan worked real good, Sammy. Karma’s a bitch,” you spit, spinning on my heels and waltzing out the door.

You mean it: you’re done. At least until he breaks up with her and undoubtedly calls back. You want him, there's no question about that, but you want him all to yourself: and that's a secret you won't tell.

[datsrightbby]

David + Dwayne (TLB) x Fem!s/o!Reader

Just Having A Little Fun  

Warnings: NSFW/Smut, cursing, voyeurism, Dom!David + Dwayne, David’s sir!kink and appearance of his daddy!kink. Not edited very well because ✨depression✨

"Hurry get on the back!"

You ran to catch up with the boys, quickly joining them on their bikes and speeding off into the night, giggling like lunatics as the store clerk ran out yelling at the three of you. Wrapping your hands firmly around Marko's frame, he sped up his bike, sending a vicious roar into the darkness - 

"Holy shit - didn't know you had it in you (y/n)."

"You guys are a bad influence."

He looked back with a playful grin, knowing that he and Paul were, in fact, a bad influence on you. Though you didn't blame them, you did agree to participate in all the mischievous activities they got up to throughout the night. They’d convinced you to get into trouble with them, you stole a few comic books, had a sprinting race along the boardwalk, played pranks on people, and though this wasn’t your usual idea of fun you did enjoy spending time with them tonight.

Unfortunately, David and Dwayne had stayed in the cave, with questionable reasoning, and sent Paul and Marko to pick you up from the boardwalk, but the last thing they were expecting was for the three of you to come back after hours of "fun". And it was safe to assume, from the not so happy looks adorning their handsome faces as you arrived, that they weren't okay with you being so...chummy, with the two charming blondes. 

You giggled, bumping your arm into Paul’s as he helped you down the steps of the cave, where you greeted your brooding vamps with an excited grin -

"Hey, I misse -"

"Where have you been? She was supposed to be back here hours ago."

Marko surrendered his hands up -

"Hey relax! we were just having a little fun with her."

David didn't like that, not one bit, where David bore a dangerous snarl, Dwayne opted for a more relaxed manner, but he silently glared at the boys, which told you enough -

"Seems like our mutts have been influencing our girl a little too much. Go sit down.”

They did as told, whilst you waited, awkwardly standing in the middle of the cave, as David leaned down talking low enough for them to hear, possibly Dwayne too with his vamp hearing, but with your human hearing you didn't quite catch on to the words uttering from his lips -

"You..."

David stalked towards you, stopping inches from your lips as he grabbed your neck in a rough grip, you rubbed your legs together, immediately feeling the throb between your legs at the action of dominance he displayed - 

"Who do you belong to?"

"You sir."

"Good Girl, whose else?"

“Dwayne."

"Good, that's what we like to hear. Looks like I’m gonna have to show you your place once again, hm?”

He toyed a finger along your parted lips, leaning down to give you a ghosting kiss that lasted less than a second - 

"We're gonna give those guys a little show kitten, show them who you really belong to, you up for that?"

You nodded in silent permission, your body reacting faster than what your mind could catch up to. He walked back over to his wheelchair, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it on a nearby candle, being successful in his attempt, and then promptly looking over to Dwayne and nodding his head in your direction as if to say "you first". 

Dwayne approached you with gentle hands, placing them on your hips and whispering in your ear -

"Is this okay?"

You hummed and leaned back into him he started peppering kisses along your shoulders, his hands wandering around your stomach and dipping into the waistband of your jeans, rubbing languid circles on your clit, while David took to watching the two of you intensely with the cigarette he lit loosely hanging from his lips, his gaze wavered to the terror twins whose mouths were agape in, what could only be deemed as, surprise. Your heart hammered away in your chest at the thought of having an audience, especially knowing you were gonna have to see their faces again after the night was over, though your thoughts soon scrambled together in nonsense as Dwayne's fingers played with you. His actions ceased and you whined, which only earned you a smug grin from the man whose attention you craved - 

"Strip for me princess."

Shakily, your hands went about undressing your form. Keeping your eyes locked onto Dwayne's, knowing that two extra pairs were in the room only causing nerves to build up. Once you were down to your underwear you looked over to David, who gave you a silent nod in permission, and, avoiding the gazes of the two blondes currently residing on the couch, you undid your bra and shimmied out of your lace thong, which you must admit was chosen appropriately now that you were in this situation. 

Dwayne was on you instantly, hands going around to grope at your behind and the other immediately back to toying with your clit in a pleasurable taunt. Whether he admitted out loud or not, Dwayne took utmost enjoyment teasing you and you'd be lying to yourself if it didn't have you rubbing your thighs together in anticipation -

"I want you over my knee."

The statement had you frowning until Dwayne took a seat on a forgotten chair, your mind soon caught up to his and you almost inclined towards saying no, but you'd come this far and you were in no danger so, albeit, with a little hesitance, you resided yourself over Dwayne's lap. Your ass was exposed to everyone in the room and he ran his hands over the flesh and playfully slapped it, grinning when you jolted against him and sent a glare in his direction. Your mind went hazy as his fingers lined up with your entrance, the indulgence of them entering you having you whimpering. One hand worked inside you while the other helped prop you up, taking off some of the pressure of your weight. His pace was fast set, fucking you on his fingers with an angle so deep you were a stuttering, moaning mess. Possibly, had you not been so caught up on the sensations he was making you feel, you'd be embarrassed being so exposed in front of two people you considered friends, but you couldn't focus on anything over than the wetness from your arousal slicking Dwayne's fingers -

"Ugh - please Dwayne."

You didn't know what you were asking for, anything. Dwayne seemed to have something in mind as he curled his fingers inside you and added another one to the mix, your eyes squeezed shut and you elicited a moan - 

"Feel good, princess?"

You nodded frantically, moving your hips back to meet the thrust of his fingers -

"I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum - oh god -"

Your lips spilled mantra's and curses as your climax built until you went rigid and hot, the only thing on your being the snap of pleasure soon to come, and before long it broke inside, waves of pleasure stemming from your core throughout the rest of your body like a wash of hot flashes. Your skin felt warm and tainted with sweat and arousal, your body fell relaxed post-orgasm, and your mind turned back to reality, gathering your thoughts back up in time to pay attention to Dwayne’s fingers hovering over your mouth -

“Taste yourself sweetheart.”

You did as told, lapping Dwayne’s fingers with hunger and moaning at the taste of yourself on him. From the other end of the room you heard the boys muttering curses as they watched you taste your own arousal. David had walked over, cigarette long gone, and hoisted you back on your feet, effectively removing Dwayne’s sinful fingers out of your desperate mouth. He moved your hair behind your ear, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your lips -

“You still okay with this kitten?”

You nodded, and he gave you a sigh -

“Imma need you to see say it loud kitten.”

“Yes sir I’m okay with it.”

“Good girl.”

With your confirmation, he walked you over to the couch where Marko and Paul were sat, though they didn’t move from their places as you approached, and you could see they were trying their best not to openly stare at your naked form. David bent you over the end of the couch, you were inches away from Marko, and you felt one of his rough hands make it’s way into your hair while the other undid the zip of his pants, pulling them down and stroking the tip of his cock against your entrance -

“Ugh fuck...”

You moaned David’s name, watching Marko physically snicker at the sound of it, and within an instant his cock was inside you, the thickness so deliciously stretching you out you dug your fingers into the fabric of the couch for leverage, you were thankful for being prepared to take so much of him all at once, your walls tightening around him. He set a pace so brutally rough you were sure there were gonna be evident bruises on your body the next day, your mind and body whirled in ecstasy, and your moans filled the room in echoes - 

“Who do you belong to (y/n)? Tell them.”

“You sir ugh...”

A harsh thrust had you reaching and grabbing Marko’s thigh, though you were much too far gone to take notice of it and he didn’t seem to mind. With your previous orgasm leaving you sensitive another one built up quick, you were shuddering and tense, goosebumps littered your skin...

“Are you gonna cum kitten? Gonna cum around daddy’s cock?”

The use of the nickname left you whining and writhing as your second orgasm hit you. White spots entered your vision as you squeezed your eyes closed, trying to process the sheer amount of pleasure you felt as David continued using his cock to lead you through it. He thrusted you through the aftershocks until his own seed painted your walls and his body grew tired, lifting your limp body up against his chest and watching as his cum dripped out and down your thighs, a heated blush crept up along your cheeks and you avoided the stare of the two blondes. Soon your curious eyes betrayed you, shooting the boys a quick glance and taking notice of their pleading, needy eyes and hard cocks under the confines of their jeans -

“Don’t look so shocked boys, we were just having a little fun...with our girl.”

[maxineswritingcenter]

Maybe in Another Life - Dean x fem!reader part 4

In this universe, Chuck had won, Dean, Sam, and (Y/N) were the only ones left. They must find another reality to live so they can find a way to bring back their own. But after getting separated, (Y/N) must find her Dean while working with this universe’s hunters.

Also Season 15 spoilers

----------

2005

(Y/N) was a young hunter down on her luck. She was on her last twenty bucks and her last tank of gas. She wanted to get this hunt done so she could go down to Vegas to hustle a couple old men out of a couple hundred bucks. Selling pictures of her body wasn’t honest work, but it was work. 

For right now, hunting was more of a duty than a pay bill, her parents had been killed by a vampire clan with (Y/N) narrowly escaping. So when she heard that the vampires who killed her parents were back in town, she wanted revenge. The only problem was that she had to team up with John Winchester. The guy was a complete hardass, military-like instructions. He had little to no respect for anyone, including his own kid.  

After the hunt and telling Mr. Winchester the place on her body that he could place his dusty, crusty lips on, she was walking back to her car or as she liked to call it, the mansion. Behind her, she could hear a car pull up and John Winchester saying he would be back soon. She looked over her shoulder, seeing John getting in a car and his son, Dean watching the car leave. 

His eyes then landed on her. Dean started jogging towards her car. This outta be good. The guy was a flirt... A good flirt, but a flirt nonetheless. But something told her that behind shell was a heart of gold and so much trauma, it reminded her a lot of herself. Alone in a dark world that kept getting darker. 

“What’s wrong? Daddy dearest kick you out?” She asked as she opened the door and threw her bag into the passenger seat. 

“Uh no, he went out on his own for a hunt.” He looked at the ground awkwardly, “I wanna apologize about him. He’s kind of-” 

“An asshole?” She finished the sentence.

Dean slipped his hands into his pockets, “I was gonna say rough around the edges.” 

“If by rough you mean sandpaper.” She looked at him, “Sure.” 

Dean smiled, his bright green eyes sparkling, “I guess. Uh, where you headed?”

She sighed and looked at him, “I dunno. Wherever I can earn my next dollar.” She got into her car and closed the door, turning the key. And turning the key. The key, turning. Car not starting. 

“Son of a bitch!” She slammed her hand against the wheel. Dean gave her a innocent looked, leaning down into her window. 

“Did you know this model is notorious for just not working?” 

She looked back at him, “I am well aware.” She rested her head against the steering wheel, “It was all I could afford at the time. And now I’m screwed.” 

“Well...” He opened her door, “You could hitch a ride with me.” She turned her head, narrowing her eyes at him.

“What’s the catch? Because this.” She motioned to her body, “Aint free.” 

Dean backed off quickly, holding his hands up in surrender, “Woah woah, sweetheart. I ain’t that kinda guy. Not that you’re not...” He looked her up in down, “Incredibly beautiful. But I feel like you deserve it after my dad said what he said.”

“You mean when he told me that the reason the vampires killed my parents was because I wasn’t strong enough at the ripe age of ten?” She got out of the car, grabbing her bag. 

“Yeah, pretty much.” He smirked, “I also wanted to apologize for that over a slice of pie at that diner we passed on the way into town.” She hummed, tapping her chin as she walked to the back of her car, hitting it just right so that the trunk opened. 

“I don’t have any money.” She said, “So I can’t pay you back until later.” 

“I don’t have money either.” He shrugged, reaching into the trunk and grabbing a suitcase of all her worldly possessions, “I’m just really good at shooting pool.” 

-

“Hey dad, it’s Dean again... Why aren’t you answering your phone? And what the hell was that voicemail you left me?” (Y/N) watched Dean grip onto the payphone tightly. They were sitting outside an apartment near Stanford university where Dean was going to talk his brother into trying to find their dad on a hunt that he hadn’t come back and hadn’t answered his phone. In the days since Dean and (Y/N) had been driving, they had actually gotten to know each other very well, they were becoming close friends. 

After the line went dead, Dean got back into the Impala and cursed, gripping onto the steering wheel. 

“Look, you don’t have to be apart of this if you don’t want to.” Dean looked at (Y/N). 

She shook her head, “You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Dean-Bean.” She reached into her bag of cherry twizzlers, taking a bite, “Plus.” She said around the candy, “He may be an asshole, but he probably needs help.” 

Dean chuckled, leaning over and taking a bite of the twizzler in her hand, “I appreciate it, sweetheart.” He winked.

“Awh.” She pouted dramatically, “I don’t get a fun nickname?” 

“How about snookums?” 

“Oh absolutely not.” She laughed. 

“Honeybunches?” 

“No.” 

“Sugar booger?” 

“The Spanish word for no is no.” 

Dean shook his head, “Alright, alright. How about sweetheart when you’re sweet, and sweet-tart when you’re a little crabby?” 

“I do not get crabby.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Really?”  He raised his eyebrows at her. 

She rolled her eyes, reaching down on the floor of the car in front of her and pulling a burger out of the bag, “Shut up and eat.” 

- 

2006

After the semi truck crashed into them, John, Sam, and (Y/N) were left with minor injuries while Dean was left in critical condition. He was in a coma, hooked up to a wall of machinery and a breathing tube in his throat. 

(Y/N) had been confined to her room with a broken ankle, kept in touch by Sam who would come in to explain what was happening. Dean was in the space between life and death and John was going to summon the demon he had been searching for to get revenge against him for... well, for everything.

As she lay in her bed, tears in her eyes, she spoke to no one, but hoped he was listening.

“I don’t know if you’re hear right now, Dean. But...” She inhaled deeply, “But I want you to know that I love you.” She chuckled, “And I know you’re probably thinking that I’m only saying this because you’re having your out of body experience moment and you could die. The reality is that I love you. You put up that flirty, whore persona, but I know who you really are. Those nights when we’re alone and we talk about our lives together and depression backstories. I’ve never trusted anyone more. And I love you. So...” She looked around, “So please, don’t die on me. I don’t know if I can do this without you.” 

Finally, (Y/N) had managed to get into a wheel chair in the night, the night that Dean woke up. The night John died in the basement of the hospital, giving his life for Dean’s. 

Sam was passed out asleep in a chair next to Dean’s bed while Dean was wide awake, staring out the window. 

“Hey...” She said softly, rolling up to the side of his bed. He glanced at her, a small smile pulled at his lips. 

“How’s it goin’, hot wheels?” 

She sighed, “You were literally in limbo this morning, but now we’re laughs?” 

“Gotta get through the pain somehow.” He looked back towards the window. She reached out and took his hand, giving it a slight squeeze. 

“I’m sorry about your dad.” She said, “My last words weren’t kind to him. If I would have known...” 

Dean shook his head, “Nah, you had every right to talk to him like that. Especially after the last few days.” He looked down at her, “I heard you by the way.” 

Her eyes widened, “No, you didn’t.” 

“Yeah, I did.” 

“No, no, you didn’t.” 

“You called me a whore.” He spoke in a hushed voice, taking a small glance at Sam before looking back at (Y/N). 

“Well, you are.” She shrugged, “Kinda.” 

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed, “Look... My point is... The feelings are mutual.” Her eyes widened. 

“I was on death’s door, I’m not gonna deny what I’m feeling anymore.” He brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on her knuckles, “I love you.”

-

As they started searching around the town, Sam was finally able to get ahold of Dean. 

“Dean? Dean, is everything alright?” Sam asked into the phone. Jack and (Y/N) head’s snapped back towards Sam on the phone. Her heart felt a little less heavy then. Dean was alive and that meant she hadn’t lost everything. 

“Okay, we’re in downtown Hastings, we really need to plan out our next move.” Sam said. After a moment, Sam looked up at her, “Yeah, she’s still here.” 

That was the other thing that made her heart feel heavy, call it survivors guilt. She came from a dead universe, just like all those hunters had, and she was still there. 

- 

It was scary being on an empty planet. You never realize how much noise the world made until the world had gone silent. Everyone in Hastings was gone. Everyone in Minnesota was gone. The whole world. They were all that was left. They made to an intersection on an empty street. Cars stopped or crashed where they were last operated. The soft puttering of the Impala made them pause. Dean parked it on the street corner, getting out and looking around the abandoned town. 

Dean walked over to the group, closest to (Y/N), reaching down and holding her hand. She welcomed this touch, knowing it well. He was devastated, he needed something to ground to the world. He was shaking slightly, not enough to be detected by the human eye. 

“Everyone's gone.” Sam said, “You see anybody on the way here?”

“No.” Dean answered, sounding like he didn’t believe it himself. 

“I couldn't save anybody. Billie-”

“It wasn't Billie. It was Chuck.” Dean said. 

“What?” Sam and (Y/N) asked together. 

“Where's Cas?” Jack asked. It was only then that she realized that Cas was no where to be found. And when Jack said his name, Dean’s hand clenched down on hers. 

“Dean?” Sam asked hesitantly. 

Dean looked everywhere but the Nephilim, “He saved me. Billie was coming after us, and Cas summoned the Empty. It took her. And it took him. Cas is gone.” Jack looked like his whole world had fallen apart, and it had. His father was gone. 

“This can't be happening.” Sam shook his head. Maybe in a state of shock. 

“It is, Sam. I think everyone's gone.” Sam shook his head, bringing his phone out and making a call. 

Dean dropped her hand, walking to the young boy, “Jack, I'm sorry.” (Y/N) stayed in his position in the street, looking around. 

This was impossible. They had no option. No plan. It all seemed so hopeless. Maybe she couldn’t save them... She couldn’t save this world. How could she save a world that was already gone?

-

They made their way to a diner in town and made their way inside to regroup. The diner looked like everyone had dropped what they were doing - eating- and disappeared. Food was still on the table, the fryer was still crackling in the kitchen. On the television was what was supposed to be a football game, but all the screen showed was an empty stadium and an empty field. 

“Hey,” Dean motioned to the TV, “It brings a whole new meaning to the term "sudden death." He turned the bar’s tap off so the stream of beer coming from the stout ceased. 

“Do you think we're it?” Sam asked, “All that's left?”

Dean chuckled darkly, “Yeah. You, me, her, Jack.” He looked out to the window where Jack was sitting on a large cement planter. He asked for space to come to terms with the fact that Castiel was gone. He needed it. Honestly, they all needed it. She had lost Cas before, but losing him again was twice as hard. Dean had poured himself a pint. Alcohol had always been his vice. 

Soon enough though, Jack made his way inside, staring at the hunters, “Hey. So, um, what now?”

“I did this.” Sam spoke up, “We could have just given Chuck what he wanted, you know, his grand finale. But I resisted. I pulled the thread. I thought we could beat this game, do it better. We tried to rewrite him, and the whole world paid the price.” Sam looked at (Y/N), “I’m sorry. But you’re mission to save us... I ruined it.”

“Sam, we can-” 

“We can what?” Sam interrupted his brother, “There's nothing left, Dean. No one left to save. Everybody's gone.”

“You can't just give up.” Jack spoke up. 

“What other choice do we have?” Sam snapped back. 

-

Sam and Dean decided to hash it out with Chuck, agree to his ending of brother against brother. If it meant that they could get things back to the way it was, maybe they could try something new. They had dropped (Y/N) and Jack off at the bunker before leaving. 

The two were left at the bunker, hoping the plan would work, but frankly their nerves were shot that hope seemed like a fever dream. (Y/N) had made food but both of them were too emotionally devastated to really eat. 

As (Y/N) was cleaning up dishes, Jack walked into the kitchen silently. 

“(Y/N)?” He asked. 

She turned and gave him a soft smile, “Yeah?” 

Jack came around, grabbing a dish towel and slowly drying off a bowl, “I was just wondering what I was like in your world.” 

She hummed, “You’re pretty much the same. I think you ate a little more nougat though.” 

“I feel like I was happier.” He said, drying a cup. 

“Why’s that?” 

Jack paused his drying and looked up at her, “Because I would have had you since the beginning. You have been so kind and warm to me. Even after all the things I’ve done.” 

She looked at him, handing him a plate, “Jack-a-bug, you have powers that angels have had millennia to master.” She looked at him, “You’re still learning. When you’re learning sometimes you do things you didn’t mean to and you feel awful. But for how long you’ve been with us, with how much you’ve learned, I think you’re doing great.” 

Jack nodded and then looked at her with a head tilt that reminded her so much of her friend in the trench coat, “Jack-a-bug?” He asked. 

She let out a small laugh, “Oh yeah.” She shook her head, “That’s what I called my Jack. I had a lot of nicknames for you. Sweet boy, Dean two, Jack-a-bug. I’m pretty sure he hated it though.” 

“No.” He said, “I like them. They make me feel... Special.” 

She smiled, cupping his cheek, “That’s because you are. Not because you’re a Nephilim. Because you’re ours.” He smiled weakly, then excused himself to bed. 

(Y/N) was sitting at the world map table, waiting for the brothers to get home. When they did, she stood up from the table, look expectantly. Sam only shook his head and went straight to his room. Dean however stood in the entrance of the room. 

“What’d he say?” She asked. She had an idea of the answer, but she needed to hear it. 

“Uh, he wants us to rot here.” He said casually. He walked into the room, cupping her cheeks in his hands, “So what do you say me and you play catch-up over some whiskey?” 

“Dean-” She said, holding his wrists to take them off her cheeks. 

“Sweet-tart.” He sighed, looking down at her, “There’s nothing we can do right now. Or maybe at all. Please.” He rested his forehead on hers, “Can we please just... Let’s just have tonight. No universe difference, no your Dean my (Y/N). Just be mine for tonight.”

“Okay.” She said softly, giving his hands a squeeze, “But if you call me sweet-tart again, I’m gonna drink your good whiskey that you hide in garage.” 

He narrowed his eyes, a sly smile on his face, “How do you know where I hid that?"

She hummed and leaned up, rubbing her nose on his, "Who do you think put it there in the first place."

He chuckled, dropping his hands from her face to her hands, pulling her towards the garage.

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

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[fckinsupreme]

30 with Michael please

I’m doing this one for Hawthorne Michael!!! Oh, and just a little disclaimer, reader & Michael are both over 18 in this!

———————

Michael Langdon had always been a fascinating man to you, from the moment you met him. There was just something that pulled you to him, a magnetic energy that you could never get enough of. Since arriving to Hawthorne with Cordelia to conduct “official Council business,” as she called it, you & Michael did nothing but flirt. His cockiness, which usually would have been a turn off for you, only drew you deeper into his mysterious web. The whisperings in the dim hallways were that he was going to be the first male supreme—the Alpha, they called it. You hated the terminology, but it made you question everything. Was this why you were so drawn to him? Was it your destiny to seduce & possibly bring down this mysterious being?

Did it even matter?

One day, you decide to pore over your notes in the common room. Not many of the warlocks are present, either in classes or doing studying of their own elsewhere. It was quiet, perhaps too much, but the silence is soon broken as Michael approaches. You hear his footfall before you see him, looking up from your papers to see him striding into the room. His hands are tucked behind his back, a smirk on his face as he walks over to you. He takes a seat beside you, his eyes glancing you over before tilting your chin to face him.

“How’s my favorite witch doing today?” Michael asks, his fingers swiping under your lip.

“She’s doing better now that you’re here,” you say, turning your whole body to face him. “It’s a good excuse to stop this boring paperwork.”

He smirks, pulling you close to him and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “That’s good to hear,” he says. “I think you should focus your attention elsewhere, anyway.”

“I think I know one place I’d love to focus,” you tease, biting your lip before nodding toward the exit of the room. “Let’s get out of here.”

“And go where?” Michael asks, his brows knitted in confusion. “Ariel won’t let us leave—“

“I’m not talking about the building,” you say with a chuckle. “I think it’s no secret that we’re both attracted to each other, and I want to act on it. I was talking about us going up to my room.”

Michael looks down at his hands, wringing them for a moment as he draws away. You offer a confused glance, and he meets your gaze with a shy, apologetic smile. You’re worried that you overstepped your boundaries, and you shake your head before reaching for his hand.

“What’s wrong?” you ask worriedly. “I didn’t go too far, did I? If I did, I’m so sorry. I—“

“No, you didn’t,” he assures you, averting his gaze again. “It’s...Well, I’ve never actually had sex before.”

Your eyes widen in shock, your jaw agape. “Wait, you’re a virgin?”

“Yes,” Michael says, looking at you with a dangerous glare. “Is that such a surprise to you?”

“Well, yeah,” you say. “You act like you’re hot shit around here, but you’re actually not? It’s a big surprise.”

“I see,” Michael says, hurt flashing across his face for a moment as he stands. “Well, if that’s how you fucking feel, then—“

“Wait!” you say, a hand on his arm as you shake your head. “I didn’t mean to come across as making fun of you. I just mean that it’s a shock because I thought you were this big ladies’ man, but...you’ve never actually done anything. It was just something that threw me off for a minute, that’s all. It’s okay that you’re a virgin and I’m not gonna laugh at you for it.”

He smiles a little, calming down as he runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to act anymore. I want to be real and I want to be everything that I am pretending to be. I don’t want to be a virgin anymore; I’m tired of living the lie.”

You chew your lip a little, eyes cast to the floor for a moment before you meet his gaze. “I could always help you there. I mean...if you wanted me to.”

“You would do that for me?” Michael asks, and you nod. “All I ask is that you’re careful at first. I don’t know what could happen if you aren’t.”

“I get it,” you say, extending a hand to him. “You’re on track to be the next Supreme, so your powers are still unpredictable.”

He takes hold of your hand, and you lead him up to your room. For the first time, perhaps since you met, you’re aware that he’s anxious. You can feel it radiating off of him, almost like heat, and you squeeze his hand reassuringly as you reach your room. You open the door, ushering him inside before closing it behind you. After making sure it’s locked, you turn to face him. You shrug off the grey cardigan you were wearing, letting it fall in a forgotten heap on the floor. Michael watches you, his tongue running over his lips as you start to slowly strip your clothing. You give him a moment to take you in each time an article is removed, remaining in your matching black bra & thong as you see the prominent bulge in the front of his pants.

“Liking what you see?” you tease, walking over to him and positioning yourself in his lap.

“Yes,” he says, his hands roaming your back and stopping at your bra to seek permission. “Can I touch you?”

“Of course,” you say, rocking your hips against his. “You can touch me any way and anywhere you want to. Can I kiss you, Michael?”

He nods rapidly, and you smash your lips to his in a hungry kiss. He groans softly, your hands tangling in his messy blond curls. He runs his tongue along the roof of your mouth, taking in every ridge and every inch, his hands on your ass as he pulls you closer. You grind against him as you make out, feeling his cock growing impossibly harder against your cunt. He smirks against your mouth, evidently noticing how wet you were, and you start working his tie loose.

“I’m gonna take your clothes off,” you whisper. “Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah,” Michael says, shivering as you unbutton his shirt and kiss the skin exposed with every undone button. “I...”

“What is it?” you coo, looking up at him. “Tell me, Michael.”

“I’m getting close already,” he says, his tone full of embarrassment as his cheeks heat crimson. “I can feel it...”

“You poor thing,” you say with a teasing pout, grinding hard against him as you both groan. “I think it’s time I help you out of those pants then, huh?”

He gives a soft nod, and you shift your body so that you can unfasten them. You slowly work his zipper down, teasingly brushing your fingers against his shaft. This was apparently a mistake, for Michael’s hips began to stutter and his breathing was getting quicker. Before you could tell him to hold off, he was cumming fast within the confines of his boxers, your name a sigh as it passes his lips, his hips rotating upward. You observe the wet stain forming in the front of his pants, tsking as you try to fight a smirk. He’s too far gone for a moment to realize what he’s done, but once his high dissipates and he comes back to reality, his cheeks turn bright red and he looks away from you. You can’t tell if he’s angry or embarrassed at first, but the answer soon becomes clear.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his eyes meeting yours as the color in his cheeks rises. “I thought I could hold off. I really did.”

“Shh, it’s fine,” you assure him, kissing each of his cheeks. “It happens sometimes. It’s totally normal. We can always try again later, when you’re—“

Michael seems to know what you’re going to say, and a wide, cheeky grin forms. He takes your hand, placing it over the wet spot on his bulge. To your surprise, he’s still rock hard, his orgasm not making him soft at all. You don’t question why; you already know how it could be possible. Michael Langdon, the enigma, the next supreme, seemed to have more abilities than you initially believed. Abilities that seemed more human, rather than completely abnormal.

“I want to be inside of you,” he whispers in your ear, roughly tugging the lobe between his teeth before moaning hotly. His embarrassment from moments ago has seemingly melted away, giving way to something much more confident. A bit feral, even. “I want to feel what it’s like. I want you to cum for /me/ now, and I want it to be all over my cock. Think you can do that for me, babe?”

“I think so,” you say, watching with hungry eyes as he pulls his erection free. He’s far bigger than you imagined, his cock slick and red, veins prominent all over the shaft. You reach out to jerk him off but he slaps your hand away, resulting in a whine from you. “Michael...”

“No,” he hisses, positioning your hips over his cock. With a nod from you, he sinks you onto his cock, your hands tearing at his skin and hair as you try to adjust to the massive feeling. His cock stretches your tight cunt, resulting in a burning, stinging sensation that isn’t entirely unpleasant. “Fuck!”

“Michael,” you whimper, looking at him through hazy eyes. “You feel way too good.”

“So do you,” he says, hoisting you up a little as he guides your movements along his cock. “Don’t think that just because I’m a virgin, I’ll go easy on you. I truly don’t believe you know what I’m capable of, and it would be a shame to have to show you.”

“What if I want to see it?” you ask, building a steady pace with your hips as you ride his cock, his hands massaging your ass. “I want you to show me.”

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Michael asks, his lips wrapping around your nipple and sucking generously as your head falls back.

“Mmm hmm,” you hum, grinning as you tug his curls. “Try me.”

——

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[hufflautia]

A Hidden Darkness

A/N: I wish I had thought of this idea in time for Halloween.

Warnings: This story is a little creepy and has something to do with the supernatural. If you are not comfortable with that kind of stuff, avoid this fic. 

Dedicated to @sophiexteresa; thank you for helping me out with British slang :’) 

Summary: Slytherin notices that Hufflepuff is acting strange...a little too strange. 

Boom!

Ravenclaw immediately drew back from the table, laughing as he pointed at Slytherin; the mini-explosion singed the edges of his hair. 

“Bloody hell,” Slytherin grumbled, gingerly rubbing his slightly-burned face. “This game is a load of bollocks.” 

He raised an eyebrow as he gathered the remaining cards. “Mate, you were the one who wanted to play Exploding Snap.” 

“Yeah, because I wanted the cards to explode in your face.” 

Ravenclaw rolled his eyes and grabbed a handful of popcorn, chucking it at him. 

Slytherin managed to block the attack with his hand, but some landed on his shoulder. As he brushed the popcorn off, he suddenly felt something prodding at the back of his neck. It felt like someone was...sniffing his hair? 

He turned around and saw Hufflepuff standing there, her face so close to his that he could feel her breath. “Hey,” he smiled, not registering the fact that it was likely she who just sniffed him. “Alright?” 

Hufflepuff gave him a blinding smile and grabbed his hand. “I need you,” she replied, tugging him out of his chair. 

“But I’m—” 

“Playing cards with Ravenclaw? You can do that later.” 

As she led him out of the Great Hall, Slytherin wondered how she knew what he was gonna say. He brushed it off quickly; she could clearly see what they were doing. However, something was definitely strange about her. Hufflepuff would usually greet Ravenclaw kindly if she saw him, but she barely spared him a second glance. 

Hufflepuff came to a stop after they passed through the entrance of the Great Hall and turned to face him. “I need to ask you something.” 

“Why couldn’t you just ask me before?” 

“Because Ravenclaw was there.” 

He frowned and said, “But you’ve never had a problem with him before.” 

She made a face at him. “He’s an ickle know-it-all. Should’ve socked him in the face, I should.” 

He was taken aback—Hufflepuff never behaved like this. She was always sweet and kind, but she was the complete opposite now. 

“What’s up with you,” he asked. “You’re acting like a completely different person. And ickle? You’ve never said that before.” 

She glared at him. “People change, Slytherin. Besides, I didn’t bring you out there just for you to berate me.” Her tone was calm, but Slytherin could sense the repressed hostility hidden beneath her words. 

She seemed to realize that he was staring at her strangely because, in the next moment, she suddenly straightened up and smiled at him widely. "But no reason to fuss about it any longer," she cooed in an oily voice, pinching his cheek. "You're here now, and that's all that matters." 

Slytherin studied her face and immediately picked up on the fact that her smile was forced. "Right then," he said slowly, still put off by her demeanor. "What was it you wanted to ask?" 

Her expression immediately darkened, and she stepped forward. He fought the urge to take a step back. What was going on with him? This was his girlfriend he was dealing with. She never meant any harm...so why did he feel so uneasy? Her next words sent chills down his spine. 

"Would you be able to tell if someone—no, if something were to possess my body?" 

Slytherin stared at her, hoping that she would crack a smile and burst out laughing, saying that it was just a prank and she successfully fooled him. 

However, she did no such thing. Instead, she stared at him with those dark eyes that he usually found endearing, but there was a coldness to them. An emptiness. 

"I..." He trailed off, unsure of what to say. What could he say? A feeling of discomfort festered within him, and he spoke again. “Uh, maybe? I think it'd be obvious if you started climbing on the walls or something.” 

Nodding, Hufflepuff seemed to mull over his answer before her face broke into a huge smile. “Alrighty then.” She suddenly plucked a piece of popcorn that had been lying in the collar of his shirt and popped it in her mouth. “Can I watch you play Exploding Snap with Ravenclunk?”  

“I thought you didn’t like Ravenclunk.” 

“I wanna see the cards explode in his face,” she shrugged. 

Slytherin hummed a laugh, momentarily forgetting how unusual she was acting, and began leading her back into the Great Hall. He felt a tug at his hand and turned back, only for Hufflepuff to smash her face onto his. 

The kiss was rough and sloppy, an alarming contrast to how they normally kissed. Drawing his bottom lip between her teeth, she bit down hard enough to make him pull away abruptly. He gingerly touched his lip and found his fingers to be stained with blood. He looked back up at her, shocked.  

A bit of his blood smeared across her teeth, she smiled coyly. “Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry in the slightest bit. “You know I get carried away sometimes…” 

Slytherin didn’t respond and simply stood there like a statue, face awash with horror as he stared at her. 

“I’ve gotta go now. I have lots to do today.” With that, she ambled away, leaving Slytherin standing there and looking as if he had just seen a ghost. 

Hufflepuff wandered through the corridors, letting her hands brush against the cobblestone wall as she inhaled the sweet smell drifting from the Kitchens.  

I have to admit, the voice cackled. This is quite luxurious. It’s interesting to be human for once. Smell, taste, touch. I have much to explore.   

Please, Hufflepuff begged, trapped within the confines of her body against her own will. Let me go! 

Peeves laughed gleefully inside her mind. 

But I’m having so much fun.

FIN.

~

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Author’s note: 

This may be my least favorite fic out of all that I have written. Last night, when I was writing it, I didn’t feel happy and a part of me wanted to discard what I wrote so far because I was like “jessica this is so dumb” but I didn’t wanna throw out what I wrote so far. I’m not even sure if Peeves is able to possess someone’s body, and after I finished writing, I thought “well what if I keep it ambiguous and it’s just some random demon?”. However, I had done some research on how Peeves talks, hence the “ickly”, and I didn’t wanna take out the hints of Hufflepuff not really being Hufflepuff. In addition, it doesn’t seem very hogwarts-like or harry potter related if it were just a random demon. That’s why I thought Filch to be the best option. I thought of this idea yesterday when my sister was acting creepy while we were in the bathroom in the morning. I was brushing my teeth and she was on the toilet, and she straightup looked at me with dead eyes and asked “Would you be able to tell if a demon possessed me?” and I was like

She was twitching and everything, and as I was walking out of the bathroom, she came up right behind me and SNIFFED MY HAIR. Yea, so that was my inspiration for this fic. My initial idea for the ending was that as Hufflepuff walks back with Slytherin to the table, her eyes glow a little and she smiles wickedly. However, I was like hmmmm what if she bits his lips and he bleeds a little?.. Yea, don’t ask me why I thought that. I don’t think I would ever write a fic that includes that bit because slytherpuff doesn’t have that rough-love type of vibe, so I just thought, oh whatever might as well do that now when I have the chance.  

In other news, happy March! This is gonna be the month in which I get the rest of my college results and I am a little nervous. Also, I’m going to go on a hiatus because I feel myself going down a spiral right now and it’s likely because my period is coming😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀😀What fun, am I right??? I get bad PMS, so I’m just gonna leave and focus on my own wellbeing for some time because I tend to get depressed during my period. I might write a bunch of stories and then come out from the dark and then post consistently. I think I am kind of posting consistently already; I have never posted as many fics as I had in February, which is interesting and hopefully not a once-in-a-lifetime thing because I’m done with the college process but now I also have to deal with my own issues in terms of mental health and stuff. It sucks but I will get better. 

I hope you enjoyed reading this fic. Let me know what you think! 

Tags: slytherpuff-shenanigans @axieleration @sunnniiee @just--another--bean​ @determinedpines @zenobiagrace @asterinflower @cinnamon-roll-unicorn @mossy-axolotl @dumbbitch11 @hitchhiker-of-the-galaxy @notsowiseravenclaw  @arianatorpotterhead @eatacrackerandstop @luciferswife16 @walkinganomaly @asunshinepuff @lewispoolerpayton @adreameratdawn @thewitcheswords @oncergleekpotterhead @princessstoopid @stardustzainy @flvrqnce @multi-fandom-nutjob @eunnieah @iamahufflepuff @1hufflepuff @introvertedrae @princessstoopid @jasminedayz @magnoliamermaid @HOPEFUL-HUFFLEPUFF-PEEVES @peanut-in-the-goal @pufflehuff929 @sophiexteresa @da-fox-rangerrr @dawinehouse @shipping-book-keeper @xxavaloraxx @silverhetdanes @im-a-solanum-lycopersicum @elegantcroissantplaidpony @theoriginaljohnwatsonsblog @theoriginalsherlockholmesblog @vickeyunicorn @arianatorpotterhead @hmilkwhoney @simpering-simpleton @grandcyclecreation @sweetinvisiblewriter @marvelenthusiast10 @mvlpksvthisht @qiaopa @beardedhumanoid @jadefox05 @justanotherperson @inkedintothepaper @minty-malfoy @trippy-morgan @fangirlgeekandfreak @boilyourteeth @absentmindeduniverse @colettedelaurel @halfelven1 @happy-puff @coloring-bud @in-love-with-remus-lupin @autumnpleaves @crakencc @flyme--tothemoon @hedgepuffgirl @littleemotionalpanda @pancakes-and-sugar @korra4321 @aquietkindofthunder @qixnsriess @porksoba @thatfann @hellounicorn @i-have-a-bad-feeling @aasa2102 @zuko-28 @annie-mcl @clementines-x @writtenfoxscreams @randomwriter23 @cryingabtwandavision @coolninjavoid @urfaveslytherin @malfoys-demigod @tumlbr-trasher @violayaxley @wolfpack-arts-industries99 @zainieees-stuff @milk-leaves @priii @capt-sparrow @blueberry-9-pancakes @stressy-depressy   

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

❧ part of Jan’s Halloween Circus 

❧ about: atsumu hates ghosts, but free food and the company of his friends leads him to the angel inn where he meets a journalist who is seeking more than a cheap thrill. 

❧ prompts: Anybody else notice the small child staring at us & wait! its too dangerous to go alone, take this! *puts my hand in yours*

❧ pairing: Atsumu x F!reader 

❧ wc: 2.7k

❧ triggers: anxiety, mentions of death and murder, a touch of dark humor, ghost children. 

❧ A/N: I hope you guys like this! I had so much fun writing it. I edited this twice but if I missed anything pls ignore. MWAH. 

The Angel Inn was not merely famous for their delectable burger, no – its name had been splattered across dozens of newspapers for a reason far more dreadful. In 1954, a tragedy occurred on the property, drawing the attention of locals and foreigners alike. On the morning of October 31st four lifeless bodies were discovered by the unsuspecting housekeeper. She was sent to the room after the neighboring occupants complained of a nauseating smell to the front desk. 

After initiating an investigation, the authorities ruled that it was a triple homicide and suicide. The Angel Inn remained closed for months to allow the authorities 24-hour access to the crime scene, and when it was time to reopen, they opted to covert the establishment into a restaurant instead. 

During the renovation the owner had received various complaints from the contracted party, who claimed that something was amiss. There were reported sightings of a little pale boy, along with concerns about flickering lights and screeches that would ring through the narrow hallways. Soon the haunting of the Angel Inn was assigned the status of town gossip, alluring ghost hunters and disbelievers alike to the newly opened restaurant. Though, fearful of a potential lawsuit, the owner of the property elected to lock each of the bedrooms – whether it was to keep the humans out or the ghosts in was questionable. Yet, she hoped either way it would save her from enduring another investigation.

When your boss originally assigned you the story for the Halloween edition of the magazine, not a single protest left your mouth. Instead, the sound of excitement crawling up your throat had to be swallowed, to spare your manager from a potential earache. Not only would your dinner be covered, you were being paid to explore a haunted motel, something you would have agreed to do if your boss had simply asked. Ghost stories had always captured your interest as a child, partially due to the fact your grandmother was a self-proclaimed psychic.

Was it bad that communicating with a ghost was on your list of life goals?

Maybe you should aim higher, but the possibility of encountering a ghost child had electricity surging throughout your nerves. It was going to be perfect.  

When four vouchers were allocated to the Ace of the MSBY Black Jackals for dinner at the Angel Inn, he naturally decided to invite his closest team-mates. Hinata agreed immediately, oblivious to the reputation of the property. Sakusa declined the invite promptly, until he noticed the colour drain from the setter’s face. The panic flaring in Atsumu’s eyes and the strained smile tugging at the corners of his mouth indicated that at minimum, the dinner would be interesting. He could sacrifice peace for one evening if it meant watching his friend tremor the entire time.

“Tsum Tsum, don’t worry! If any ghosts come, I’ll protect us. I am the Ace after-all.” A teasing laugh rose from Bokuto’s chest as he snuck an arm around the setter’s shoulder. The blonde responded with a low grunt, mumbling something inaudible. Ghosts were not his thing, and he failed to understand how they could be anyone’s thing.

But alas, on October 30th, the setter found himself sat at the Angel Inn with his three team-mates. Earlier in the day, he attempted to bribe his brother to colour his hair and attend on his behalf. While Osamu was certainly tempted – it was food after-all, he was unwilling to colour his hair to match his brothers. Blonde was a colour that suited only a subsection of society, and he was not fortunate enough to be granted permission into that branch. And so, he left his older brother to fend for himself.

Nothing could distract Atsumu from the supposed danger that loomed over him, his senses were sensitive to every noise that vibrated within the confines of the establishment. For most of the night, the setter found himself observing every creak, sneeze or laugh, to ensure that its source was not supernatural. However, the anxiety gripping his heart had released its hold when the sound of a melodic laugh touched his ears. It took him a few seconds to discover the source of the laughter, and when he connected it to you, eagerness brought him to his feet.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you possessed now?” Sakusa raised an eyebrow at the blonde as a small simper formed on his mouth. He had read that the weakest one in the room is the most likely to fall victim to possession, and so it made sense if Atsumu was their first target.

“I’m gonna go talk to that pretty girl.” With his fingers adjusting the collar of his shirt, a flirtatious expression adorned his features, washing away any hint of gloom that was once present. While Bokuto and Hinata strived to detect who their friend was referring to, Sakusa clicked his tongue in artificial distaste.

“Did it ever occur to you, that maybe she is a ghost?” The humour laced into the inquiry could not be successfully disguised by the outsider hitter’s pretentious attitude. It was clear to them all that it was his attempt at a joke. 

“Shut up, Omi!” Before stepping away from the table, the blonde administered a glare at his friend. There was no way you were a ghost… Right?

When Atsumu was close enough to catch a glimpse of your face, any concerns on the status of your existence were banished. Although, he was not particularly enthusiastic when he spotted the notebook situated in front of you. Reporters were usually far too intrusive and insensitive for his liking. Yet he still found himself claiming the empty stool beside you.

“Whatcha got there?” Shifting his gaze to the sheet filled with scribbles, his breath caught in his throat at the title. The Haunting of The Angel Inn.

It took you a second to comprehend that the question was aimed at your work. The last thing you anticipated was for someone to seek you out during your little investigation today. Dressed in ordinary business attire, it was surprising that someone of his calibre would consider sparing you a second look, yet alone a conversation.

“Hm? Oh, I’m writing an article.” Despite instructing yourself to not stare, your y/e/c irises refused to leave the stranger’s face. There was something familiar about him – was he a model? As you racked through your mind for an answer to the question of his identity, you blinked in slow intervals.  

“About the hauntings?” When his attention traveled from the notebook to you, it finally clicked. Miya Atsumu – pro volleyball player. The realization tempted you to pound your forehead with the edge of your palm.

“Yeah, I’m a journalist. Star here was just telling me about her experience with Haru.” His question about your work returned your mind to the task at hand. Gesturing towards the bartender with the pen nestled between two fingers, a soft laugh was exhaled. Right. You were on a mission tonight to gain an audience with the ghosts of Angel Inn.

“Haru?” Atsumu narrowed his brows, the smile on his lips slipping away into a frown. Who was Haru?

“The ghost kid who haunts this place?” Adjusting yourself on the seat, excitement sparkled in your eyes. It was at this point that Atsumu realized that you were the polar opposite of him – you were seeking a paranormal experience, whereas he simply wanted a burger.

“Well shit. Didn’t know he had a name.” The setter propped an elbow onto the wooden counter, directing artificial laughter to leave his lips.

“They call him that because he apparently looks like the child who was murdered here.” A knowing wiggle was given to your eyebrows. While he may have sought to disguise his discomfort with the topic, it quickly dawned on you that MSBY’s setter was afraid of ghosts.

“Right. So lemme get this straight, you came here willingly? You want to see a ghost?” His eyelids fell into a quizzical slit. He knew the answers to those questions, and still was foolish enough to vocalize them.

“Yeah. I think it would be fun.”

And there it was. Confirmation that you were less than sane.

“Not if they try to kill ya.” There was a bitter edge to his comment, earning him a puzzled titter.

“I doubt a four-year-old ghost is going to kill me.” A shake to your head accompanied the reassurance. His anxieties were rooted in foolish assumptions, but you found the pout on his lips to be oddly adorable. “But if you’re scared, you can sit with me and I promise if a ghost comes, I’ll do all the talking.” An eyelid was then dipped into a wink, which prompted the blonde to break into a laugh.

“Yer the second person to offer to protect me.” Embarrassment flooded his stomach with bees, instead of butterflies. Yet he refused to lower this façade, with laughter continuing to drip from his mouth.  

“Hey, we all have our fears. You can protect me if a spider appears. Deal?” The arrangement prompted you to offer out your pinky to solidify the verbal contract.

“Yah. Okay. Deal.”  Atsumu curled his pinky around yours, and the smallest touch had calmed the insects inside of him. Maybe you weren’t that bad, even if you were a little crazy.

“I’m l/n, f/n, by the way.”

“I’m Miya, Atsumu.”

The following hour contained various conversations, ranging from past paranormal experiences to locker-room gossip. Atsumu munched away at the plate of appetizers while you supplied him with stories of your childhood. He was beginning to piece together why you were so keen on communicating with the ghostly residences of the Angel Inn. You were halfway through another story when his attention drifted onto a figure in the corridor behind you.

“Err. L/n. Did ya notice the small child staring at us? Please tell me ya see it too.” It was never his intention to lock stares with the almost transparent being that was beckoning him over. The poor male choked on the fry in his mouth, and then dove for a glass of water.

“Hm? Where?!” Spinning around on the seat, you attempted to attain a visual of what had frightened the blonde. To your disappointment, there was no sign of a young child. “I think it ran away. I’m gonna follow it.” The announcement of your plans was followed by a little fist pump in the air. If Haru wanted a playmate, you were certainly available.

“Yer gonna follow the ghost child? Can we talk about this?” After administering a cough to clear his throat, the setter prepared his best impression of a puppy-dog, hoping it would convince you to abandon your endeavours.

“You don’t have to come with me, Miya. I’ll meet you back here when I’m done.” With laughter dancing up your throat, you settled onto your feet then presented a bright beam in the setter’s direction. Atsumu was appreciative of your efforts to reassure him, though he would refuse to allow you to leave without him.

“No. It’s too dangerous to go alone, take this.” Before you could question what he was referring to, the male intertwined his fingers with yours then casted his gaze aside shyly. “Alright. Now ya can go.”

“That was kinda corny and kinda cute. I’ll accept it.” The inside of your cheek was bit as you pushed to conceal the happiness the action brought you. For someone who was notorious for being a ‘bad boy’, he was ridiculously sweet. The circumstances surely called for an eerie chill to fill your bones, and yet warmth engulphed every inch of your skin.

The quest to find Haru was unsuccessful on the lower level. It was only when you proceeded up the staircase did you hear a strange giggle from one of the hallways. It appeared that you had accepted a game of hide and seek with the dead. When you tugged on Atsumu’s hand to indicate that you desired to follow the noise, a low whine vibrated inside of his throat.

“This is exactly what a couple does in those horror films before they get killed. Haven’t ya learned anything from Hollywood?” Despite his warnings and the anxiety swarming his insides, he trailed behind you closely, refusing to release your hand.

“Shh, Miya.” To drown out the laughter threatening to depart, you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip. The sound of varied giggles increased in volume until you reached room 204. What was strange about the guestroom was that the door was cracked open. Based on your research, each of the hotel rooms were said to be double locked. What made the circumstances significantly worse was that 204 was the room where the murders occurred… Not that you planned on sharing any of this information with the blonde male shivering behind you.

“L/n, I am begging ya.” He applied a bit of pressure against your hand, and regretted his decision to accompany you when he knew what was lurking behind the barrier would not be pleasant.

“Just a little peek, and we can go.”

You should have retreated when tiny needles prickled your palm as you ushered open the door, but you were far too stubborn to leave yet. And nothing could prepare you for the horrific sight that awaited you. In the center of the room stood a four-year-old boy with blood splattered across his face and a single hole penetrating his chest. His injured state did not stop the apparition from smiling ear to ear, and frankly that only added an additional layer of horror. Beside you Atsumu blinked wide eyes, unsure how to react to what had melted into view.

“No. Nope. No. We’re done here.” Releasing your hand, the setter scooped you into his arms, then began down the hallway before rushing down the stairs. He continued to utter his denial to the situation and refused to stop until reaching the parking lot outside.

“Miya!” Maybe it was his reaction that prompted laughter to erupt from inside you, or maybe you were terrible at handling distress. But you could not contain the melody that brought your chest to rise and fall, even after he returned you to your feet.

“We are not goin’ back in there. No.” The setter raked his fingers through his hair roughly, struggling to regain his composure. Did he really just see that? More importantly, why didn’t you listen to his warnings? And why were you laughing?! “How aren’t ya scared?!”

“I express my fear through laughter?” Your shoulders were pushed into a shrug as you delivered him a sheepish smile. Disbelief led the setter to lift a finger in your direction, communicating that he required a minute to accept this explanation.

“How about I get my things, then you and I go can grab some hot chocolate for your nerves.” Seconds after the suggestion was posed, you took his hand that was extended forward, cupping it with both of your palms. This was certainly not how you expected the evening to unfold. How could you have known that you would meet someone so fascinating and sweet as Atsumu while writing an article on a haunted motel? But you were glad you did. Not only did you secure details to an incredible story, you also thoroughly enjoyed yourself. It had been a while since you laughed this much – you missed it.

“Yah fine. Jus’ don’t bring back any uninvited guests with ya.” A dramatic sigh was blow out by the male to illustrate his exhaustion. If he saw another spirit today, he doubted his fragile little heart would survive.  

“Oh, you mean like Haru?” Allowing your hands to drop to your side, you retreated a step away from him, prior to lowering an eyelid into a mischievous wink. The mention of the spirit’s name brought Atsumu to grimace. “I’m joking. I’ll see if his sister is available instead.”

“L/n! Stop!” 

The whining of your name had never sounded more endearing, and for the first time this evening, you accepted that maybe just maybe...you weren’t the sanest.

Taglist: @newfriendjen @haikyuufairy @bringmelily @4fterh0urs @shegrewupwithoutafather @chocolaterumble @aquariarose @tsukkismamagucci @yourstarvic​ 

[bennydwight]

Dragon Age Oneshot

Shameless, indulgent, one-sided Varric/Inquisitor, because I understand why we’re not allowed to romance the dwarf, but that’s not gonna stop me from being bitter about it.

(Also feat. Dorian being simultaneously the best and worst wingman)

 ~~~~~~

"Oh dear what's got the Inquisitor so long in the face this time?"

Lavellan hid her startle well enough that Dorian didn't comment. Maker's breath, he could be stealthy when he wanted to. Observant, too, so she didn’t see much point in lying to him. "I'm in love, Dorian."

She felt more than saw his interest pique, and he slid down the stone wall to join her on the steps. Below them, the courtyard was abuzz with activity: Dennet and his apprentice busied themselves with checking the new stock of mounts, the merchants from Val Royeaux shifted primly as Fereldan soldiers examined their wares, and patients of the last battle milled around the surgeons camp. Among them, even from this height, Lavellan could see Cole's wide-brimmed hat bobbing along through the crowd of wounded like a leaf on a river, likely offering comfort to those who needed it. Varric's copper hair trailed along beside, either gathering intelligence for his next book, or ensuring Cole stayed within the confines of human morality. Nice that those two got along so well.

Far below, a soldier said something and Varric laughed, the delighted rasp floating up to reach even Lavellan's perch. Why must he do that to her.

"In love, you say?" Dorian continued next to her. "Anyone I would know?"

Lavellan sighed. "He's roguishly charming, dashingly handsome, entirely uninterested, and so far out of my league he may as well be the Black Divine."

"Dear me, have you fallen in love with me all over again? Can't say I'm not flattered, though I recall us having this conversation once before."

That drew a laugh from the depths of her lovesickness and she nudged Dorian with a shoulder. "You know the flame I hold for you in my heart will never extinguish."

"Alas, perhaps in another life." He chuckled back.  "Who's the fortunate gentleman?"

"Oh please, if you think I'll out and tell you like some babbling maid chasing the butcher's son, I give you too much credit."

He leaned back, stroking his goatee with an interested finger. "Making a game out of it then? Very well, I'll play along. Ten silver says I can guess the lad in three tries."

A game was exactly what Lavellan didn’t want, but she far too much enjoyed Dorian's scowl when he lost not to play.  The ten silver could buy her something interesting from the baker too, next time they travelled to Val Royeaux. "You'll be paying for my next pastry run, Vint."

"Better save at least some of that silver for larger clothing then." He made a show of tapping his chin, deep, deep in thought, the flash bastard. "Roguishly charming, daringly handsome... Just to clarify, you are talking about a lad, yes?"

"Oh, no. Making that distinction would narrow the field by far too much. If you weren't paying attention to the pronouns, that's on you."

Dorian glowered at her, but there was no real heat behind it while the gears of his mind were ticking elsewhere. "From the description alone, of course my first guess would have to be our distinguished commander? Not that I'd blame you, mind, he is quite the man."

Perhaps too much man for Lavellan, the commander was far too battle-ready for her to find attractive (though admittedly the scars did send something stirring within her). And Cullen's evasive reactions towards the advances of other members of the fairer gender betrayed a disposition more boyish than Lavellan expected. She imagined courting Cullen would be very much like courting the spirit of a farm boy in the body of a marble statue. "I flirted with him once, for fun. I was afraid he'd wet himself."

Dorian's laughter rang warm and clear through the courtyard. "That might explain why you couldn't tell him, the poor man would throw himself off the battlements."

Lavellan stuck her tongue out at him. "Don't make it sound like my affections are a disease to be feared."

"They certainly spread that way."

"You enjoy it, you all do. Maker knows none of you under my command have ever gotten enough hugs in your lifetimes."

"Something we all know you're desperately trying to correct."

"This game is timed, Dorian, if you don't use your guesses in the next ten seconds then you forfeit."

"Don't be silly, that was never agreed upon," he waved a hand flippantly, but settled again. "Sera-"

"Nope."

"That wasn't a guess, you didn't let me finish! I was going to say Sera is in league all her own, so it can't be her."

"It counts."

"It doesn’t. "

Lavellan never was very good at keeping a straight face, especially in Dorian's presence. "Fine, fine, you get one freebie."

"Then my next guess would have to be the Iron Bull."

Oh, she'd thought about it. Maybe Lavellan was just weak for big hands and a soft voice. And who could forget those muscles? But Iron Bull wasn't exactly secretive about his thoughts on relationships, thoughts Lavellan wasn't sure she could share in the long run. And maybe it would have been different if Iron Bull committed to the Inquisitor, but after an accidental (and awkward) run in with Bull and a kitchen maid, Lavellan was pretty certain she'd seen all she needed to regarding Skyhold's resident Ben-Hassarath.

Besides. She'd seen the silky way Dorian's eyes smoothed over Iron Bull's shoulders when his back was turned. There had never been two people she was less inclined to come between.

She shot Dorian a sly side-eye. "I'll leave the lovesickness to other, more suitable people when it comes to the Bull, I think."

He hid the hitch in his shoulders almost perfectly, but the pink dusting on his cheekbones was a little harder to explain away. To his credit, Dorian didn't try. "Ahem. Well, you mentioned 'uninterested', so it can't be the swooning--"

He trailed off, but Lavellan's sharp stare snapped to him, ears twitching up. "The what?"

"Nothing, a slip of the tongue."

"Your tongue is so slippery it's a wonder it doesn't slither out of your head. Now out with it, who were you talking about?"

Dorian heaved a mighty sigh, but his eyes shone in that way they did when he'd been sitting on a sweet bit of gossip for too long. "Very well, I promised Vivienne I wouldn’t say anything since you didn't need 'undue distractions', but since you insisted. One of your throne guards can't keep his eyes away from you."

This was news to her. "Wha- Are you talking about Davrish or Johannes? Or Tel, he fills in sometimes."

"The lad who usually stands at your left. Human, on the tall side, dark hair. Hard to see much under the helmet, but he's got a scar under his eye."

Davrish then. "He fancies me?"

Dorian laughed. "Like Solas fancies the Fade. He reveres you. Whenever you're in the Main Hall, he refuses to look anywhere else. He practically vibrates when you're judging someone, I imagine since he's never had a woman that close to him in his life. Have you truly not noticed?"

She truly hadn't. She'd spoken to Davrish several times around Skyhold, usually a casual bit of snark tossed around regarding the latest judgement, but never had she gotten the impression that he was interested. Perhaps since, whenever she frequented the Main Hall, her attention lingered elsewhere... "I suppose I'm usually distracted."

Dorian leaned closer, something wicked crawling into his grin like a desert lizard. "Distracted, are you?"

Lavellan huffed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as if that could still her heart's rapid beat. "I'm the Inquisitor, Dorian, not all of us can lounge in the library all day, drinking cheap ale and commenting on whatever daily atrocity Solas is wearing."

"Oh, that reminds me, did you see the particularly awful armour he picked up during your last trip to the Oasis? I could go on for days about the state of the stitching alone-"

He definitely could, as proven time and again. Times like these, where her Tevinter friend really got on a roll, Lavellan could feign interest well enough while letting her mind wander to more introspective topics. She nodded and made appropriate noises at appropriate times to Dorian's impassioned ramblings, but once again her eyes sought the copper head weaving in and out of view of the crowd below.

As if sensing her seeking eyes, Varric pulled his attention away from Cole and stared straight at her.

Lavellan's heart stuttered to a stop. Even this far away, his eyes shone with the barely concealed mirth he always seemed to carry just under the crooked quirk of his eyebrow. The corner of his mouth pulled up in that roguish smile she loved as they made eye contact, and one hand (gloved, why always gloved) rose in a lazy wave.

Like a dunderhead, Lavellan practically tripped over herself to return the gesture, nearly catching her finger in one of the buckles of her clothes in the process. Varric didn't seem to notice, his smile widening before he turned back to his odd little charge.

Too late, Lavellan noticed Dorian had fallen silent beside her, his calculating golden eyes boring into her frozen face. She heard the dots connect.

"Oh."

Don’t make eye contact, don't make eye contact

"Oh, MAKER."

Lavellan spun on him, the tips of her ears burning under his scrutiny. "WHAT."

He stared back, expression refreshingly open for once, though it bore no malice. Only stunned disbelief. "Lavellan, the dwarf?"

Not trusting herself to speak around the dry lump lodged in her throat, Lavellan reached into her pocket and dropped ten silver into Dorian's unresponsive hand.

He stared at the coins as if in shock, though Lavellan knew him well enough by now to know when he was exaggerating emotion. Dorian and Sarcasm were old friends. "I can’t- Vishante kaffas."

"I know."

"Of all the available young matches here in Skyhold, you're wasting your time making doe-eyes at the single most ineligible person this side of the Anderfels."

"I know.”

"He's in love with a crossbow, for Maker's sake!"

"I KNOW!" Lavellan groaned, burying her head in her hands. "If you think I haven’t had this discussion with myself numerous times then you are sorely mistaken."

A beat of silence. "Although," Dorian started in such an oddly contemplative tone that Lavellan peeked out from between her fingers. The silver was gone, tucked away while she'd been marinating in her own self-horror, and his hand returned to its previous action of thoughtfully stroking his facial hair. "He is quite the strapping one." His face took on a haughty air. "And we already knew you had a penchant towards the witty."

"Not only wit," Lavellan sighed, and now that her darkest thoughts hovered at the forefront of her tongue, she found it nigh impossible to stop them from stumbling into the light of day. "He's suave, confident in a way that still eludes Cullen. He has all the easy, rugged attractiveness of the Iron Bull with none of his-"

"Expansive tastes?" Dorian supplied, entirely unhelpfully.

"-worldliness." Lavellan corrected coolly.

"He's quite the complainer. "

"He's opinionated, and most of them are right. Varric is warmth, and friendship, and a drop of sunlight in the midst of the rainstorm that is the Breach."

"I may vomit."

"I am taking that as a challenge. He is soft eyes and soft leather, and the feeling you get right after you make someone laugh. He's quiet nights by the fireside, the smell of ink swirling in the warmed air. He is-"

"-headed this way."

Lavellan was just about to admonish Dorian for his unsportsmanlike attempt to distract her from her flowering prose (it had really started to flow there, too!), but a glance downward found Cole nowhere to be seen, and instead one copper-headed dwarf tromping up the stairs.

All thoughts of poetry dissipated. He was coming straight for them! "Oh... oh Maker-"

"Don't panic," Dorian smirked, "with a nose that large, he can probably smell your nerves."

She didn’t have the chance to smack him before Varric reached them, breath laboured in the way that often happened when short legs were presented with more than five steps. Lavellan wondered why Varric chose to spend the majority of his days in the Grand Hall when it required so many steps to get there (and she refused to let herself believe it was because he wanted to be near her, no no). "Well, you two are looking chummy."

"Varric!" Dorian opened with no shortness of theatrics, "We were just talking about you!"

"Is that right?" Lavellan heard more than saw Varric's raised eyebrow as she pinned Dorian under a glare so hot it had been known to stop enemies in their tracks.

Dorian, having evolved out of the category of "enemy" some time ago, barely noticed. "Yes, we were just discussing your romance serial, the one Cassandra enjoys so much? Are you planning on writing more?"

Lavellan’s glare had taken on a panicked note, her friend going rogue before her eyes. How hard did one have to stare at another for them to spontaneously combust?

Varric, large as his nose was, didn’t seem to smell her distress this time. He laughed. "I am if Seeker has anything to say about it! Why, you're a fan too? Learning anything interesting?"

"On the contrary, I have an idea for another serial I'm sure readers would enjoy."

Lavellan’s shoulders relaxed marginally, head tilting at a quizzical angle. What was he doing...

"I don't usually entertain book pitches, but for you Sparkler? Let's hear it."

"It's about a famous, powerful young artist, who falls in love with a roguishly charming, dashingly handsome writer-"

Aaaaand there went her shoulders again, hitched almost to her burning ears. Back safely to Varric, she frantically mouthed "I'll KILL you, you sunnuvabitch", the rest of Dorian's blatantly obvious pitch drowning under the blood pumping in her ears. His mouth quirked up in the only indication he was paying her any mind at all.

Varric made a thoughtful noise, and she didn't dare turn round to look at him. "An artist and a writer, huh? It's got potential. And no one can say it's... unrealistic." Maker's breath, was he implying something? Was that tone barely concealed subtext, or just Varric being an asshole?

And Dorian couldn't leave it at that, oh no, never let it be said that Dorian Pavus did things halfway. "And say, if you do decide to write it, I'm sure our dear inquisitor wouldn’t mind illustrating. Surely you two have known each other long enough that working closely for prolonged periods of time wouldn’t be too agonizing."

Using her body as a shield, Lavellan flipped him off.

"It's certainly something to consider," Varric hummed, none the wiser to Lavellan's mortification. Unless... he was playing with her? "I'm sure my lady readers would appreciate another romance."

Dorian stared straight into Lavellan's eyes. "They certainly would."

"What about it, Herald?" Oh Maker, he was leaning over her now. The scent of warm leather drifted over her like the sweetest perfume-- NO, that was gross! Don’t think like that! "Feel like collaborating?"

"Sure," her voice came out more like a squeak than a sound, and Dorian couldn't quite hide his snort behind his moustache.

The creak of leather as Varric leaned back. "Peachy. After we take care of this Corypheus business, of course, even I understand that we have priorities. Speaking of, I gotta ask Seeker something. Dorian."

Dorian nodded in farewell, radiating smugness. Expecting her turn to be next and realizing at the same time that she hadn't looked at Varric a single time during this conversation, Lavellan finally turned to the dwarf.

Bad idea. She turned directly into that insufferable crooked grin. His hooded eyes glittered with mischief, like he was privy to an in-joke. The sun set behind him, haloing his visage with golden light. Varric himself couldn't have written this scene better, and Lavellan hated herself for thinking it. Her ears drooped under the weakness of her own body.

Varric's grin widened marginally. "Inquisitor."

"Bye," Lavellan breathed more than said. Dorian snorted again, louder, but Varric was polite enough not to mention it. He continued up the stairs and Lavellan managed until his heavy bootsteps faded away to melt into a humiliated puddle. She slumped over her legs, burying her face in her hands.

"Dear me, Inquisitor, your ears are a most delightful shade of crimson."

"Dorian?"

"Yes?"

"Once I can stand again, I am going to take my knife and cut out your tongue."

"Oh, I'd still find ways to humiliate you."

"I wont even use my nice knife. It'll be a kitchen knife. You'll suffer for days, just like I am now."

He patted her jovially on the shoulder. "Come now, Lavellan, surely you must know that Varric is crass and boorish, but he's far from an idiot. He'll nip this in the bud within the week and I need to get a decent amount of teasing in before then."

Lavellan punched him in the arm.

 END

[marlborodean]

annotation for my "destiel but it's just one direction playlist," mainly for my sister who hasn't seen supernatural but you guys can read it too if you want :^)

DIANA // 4x01, "Lazarus Rising"

this episode introduces Cas :) Castiel speaks Enochian but when he was trying to speak to Dean he was instead causing radio static and shattering windows :) he gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition :) he knew all of Dean’s soul just from touching him :) he left his handprint burned into Dean’s skin :)

Notable Lyrics:

how could someone not miss you at all?

i never would mistreat you, no, i’m not a criminal. i speak a different language but I still hear your call

let me be the one to light a fire inside those eyes. you’ve been lonely, you don’t even know me, but I can feel you crying. let me be the one to lift your heart up and save your life. i don’t think you even realize, baby, you’d be saving mine

it’s only been four months but you’ve fallen down so far

i wanna reach out for you, i wanna break these walls

we all need something. if i could hold you, swear i’d never put you down

KISS YOU // 4x07, "It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester"

the only reason i have for this is the pure tension between Dean and Cas in this ep, which includes Dean staring at Cas's mouth and licking his lips :)

Notable Lyrics:

i just wanna take you anywhere that you like, we could go out any day, any night. i’ll take you there

tell me how to turn your love on. you can get anything that you want

if you want me to, let’s make a move

HEY ANGEL // 4x10, "Heaven and Hell"

in this ep, there is a female angel who is. i mean she’s just there to mirror what Cas will become. she is a fallen angel who rebelled because she fell in love with humanity :) and Cas talks to her, tells her that “for the time, i feel…” later in the show there’s another angel that says Cas’s “true weakness is involved. he’s in love! with humanity" :) also in this ep, the female angel and Dean have sex. clearly if Cas was a woman they would’ve been in a relationship long ago :)

Notable Lyrics:

hey angel, do you look at us and laugh when we hold onto the past? hey angel, tell me, do you ever try to come to the other side?

i wish i could be more like you. do you wish you could be more like me?

i see you at the bar, at the edge of my bed, backseat of my car, in the back of my head

BETTER THAN WORDS // 4x22, "Lucifer Rising"

in this ep, Dean is kept in a beautiful white room (which they call the green room #theatrekidvibes), and everyone understands the tension between Dean and Cas to be needlessly horny :) Cas defies heaven's orders to help Dean :)

Notable Lyrics:

more than a feeling, crazy in love. every time we touch, i’m all shook up. best i ever had, hips don’t lie, you make me wanna—

how deep is your love? god only knows

i don’t know how else to sum it up, there’s no way i can explain your love

everyone tries to see what it feels like, but they’ll never be right

YOU & I // 4x22, "Lucifer Rising"

Castiel literally invented free will. the prophet Chuck couldn’t predict Castiel’s actions :) he said “you guys aren’t in this story!” and Cas replied “we’re making it up as we go” :)

Notable Lyrics:

we can make it ’til the end, nothing can come between you and i. not even the gods above can separate the two of us, nothing can come between you and i. we could make it if we try

EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU // 5x03, "Free to Be You and Me"

in this ep, Castiel thinks he is going to die the next day so Dean takes him out for a fun night :) and Dean says it’s the first time he’s laughed that hard in a long time :)

Notable Lyrics:

you know i’ve always got your back, so let me be the one you come running to. just call my name, i’ll be coming through. on the other side of the world, it don’t matter, i’ll be there in two

there’s something about your laugh that makes me want to have to. there’s nothing funny so we laugh at nothing.

every minute’s like the last so let’s just take it real slow. forget about the clock that’s ticking

you have always been the only one i wanted

i wanted you to know without you i can’t face it

WHY DON'T WE GO THERE // 5x03, "Free to Be You and Me"

same ep, but this is placed here because Dean said to Cas, “there are two things I know for certain. One: Bert and Ernie are gay. Two: you are not gonna die a virgin, not on my watch.” you connect those dots :)

Notable Lyrics:

think about all the places we could go if you five in tonight. just let me set you free

we’ve got all night, and we’re going nowhere. why don’t you stay? why don’t we go there? let’s take a ride out in the cold air, i know the way, why don’t you go there with me?

ONCE IN A LIFETIME // 5x04, "The End"

in this ep, an angel zaps Dean to five years into the future where he meets his future self and future Cas. there was HEAVY subtext that they were together :) at the end of the ep, after he sees his future self die and ultimately destroy the entire world, he is zapped back to present time (where it is safe) and Castiel is there waiting for him at the side of the road in the middle of the night :)

Notable Lyrics:

once in a lifetime, you were mine

when i close my eyes, all the stars align and you are by my side. once in a lifetime, it’s just right. we are always safe, not even the bad guys in the dark night could take it all away

DRAG ME DOWN // 6x20, "The Man Who Would Be King"

this fits anywhere between 4x01 and this ep, which is when. when Dean finds out that Cas had betrayed him and was working alongside the king of hell behind his back :) so as long as this is placed before That Scene, it's fine :)

Notable Lyrics:

i’ve got a fire for a heart, i’m not scared of the dark, you’ve never seen it look so easy. i’ve got a river for a soul, and baby, you’re a boat. baby you’re my only reason

if i didn’t have you, there would be nothing left. the shell of a man that could never be his best. if i didn’t have you, i’d never see the sun

you taught me how to be someone

all my life you stood by me, when no one else was ever behind me. with your love, nobody can drag me down

WOLVES // 6x20, "The Man Who Would Be King"

the war with angels is oncoming, so Cas is trying (trying) to do lots of damage control with that, which means killing angels and demons alike that are after the Winchesters. there's a great scene here :) idk it fits here somehow my brain is too big to be confined by the English language

Notable Lyrics:

in the middle of the night when the wolves come out, they head straight for your heart like a bullet in the dark. one by one, i take them down

i keep on holding tight now, ‘cause your body’s telling me don’t let go

just getting my demons out, wouldn’t ever doubt. your beauty could start a war as you walk in the dining room

i wish it wasn’t true, but the whole world’s trying to get a piece of you, and my heart keeps fighting in this battle of fools

INFINITY // 6x20, "The Man Who Would Be King"

since Cas is trying to prevent the war, much like Aziraphale, he is deemed a failed and fallen angel! :) but then Dean finds out Cas has been working with the king of hell behind his back! :) Cas says "It sounds so simple when you say it like that. Where were you when I needed to hear it?" and Dean replies "I was there. Where were you?" :)

Notable Lyrics:

down to earth, keep on falling when i know it hurts

now i’m one step closer to being two steps from you, when everybody wants you

i was there for you. all i ever wanted was the truth. how many nights have you wished someone would stay?

FOOL'S GOLD // 7x02, "Hello, Cruel World"

i see this as Cas POV as he decides to sacrifice himself and let the Leviathans destroy him, before he leaves Dean ahahaha! i see it in this point in time because Cas loves Dean but assumes Dean doesn't feel the same, but! as we see, Dean keeps Cas's coat (because he loves him)

Notable Lyrics:

i know in my heart, you’re not a constant star. i let you use me from the day that we first met, but I’m not done yet, falling for you. i knew that you turned it on for everyone you’ve met, but i don’t regret falling for you

i know your love’s not real, but that’s not the way it feels. that’s not the way you feel

HALF A HEART // 7x02-7x21

literally every time Cas dies, Dean becomes inconsolable and loses all will to live and succumbs to raging alcoholism :) in season 7, when Cas dies, Dean keeps his jacket. for months. :) also applies to 13x01-13x05

Notable Lyrics:

so your friends [have] been telling me, you’ve been sleeping with my sweater, and that you can’t stop missing me. bet my friends [have] been telling you, i’m not doing much better

i’m missing half of me, and being here without you is like i’m waking up to only half a blue sky. kind of there, but not quite. i’m walking 'round with just one shoe. i’m half a heart without you. i’m half a man at best, with half an arrow in my chest. i miss everything we do. i’m half a heart without you

forget all we said that night, it doesn’t even matter

though i try to get you out of my head, the truth is i got lost without you

GIRL ALMIGHTY // 8x17, "Goodbye Stranger"

very closely tied to the imagery of the episode rather than the story. the bright light as Cas overpowers his brainwashing, Dean kneeling in front of Cas. not to self-promo but watch my Religion AMV to see what i mean!! it's visceral stuff :)

Notable Lyrics:

her light is as loud as many ambulances as it takes to save a savior

am i the only believer? there’s something happening here. i hope you feel what i’m feeling too

i get down on my knees for you

STRONG // 8x17, "Goodbye Stranger"

Castiel has been brainwashed into betraying Dean again, to the point where he was forced to participate in hundreds of simulations where he has to kill Dean :) so when the time comes where he’s told to kill Dean, he suddenly can’t do it :) know why? because Dean tells him “Cas, it’s me. We need you. I need you.” :)

Notable Lyrics:

my hands, your hands, tied up like two ships. my heart, your heart, sit tight like bookends. pages between us written with no end. so many words we’re not saying. don’t wanna wait til it’s gone

i’m sorry if i say ‘i need you’

when i’m not with you, i’m weaker. is that so wrong? is it so wrong that you make me strong?

WHERE DO BROKEN HEARTS GO // 9x03, "I'm No Angel"

Cas loses his grace so now he is human. for some reason i don’t remember, Dean tells him he can’t stay at his place anymore. now Cas is homeless! :) and so Dean regrets it and goes to look for him :) also side note but there is some fan headcanons or theories that Cas had to resort to sex work to make money :/

Notable Lyrics:

counted all my mistakes and there’s only one standing out from the list of the things i’ve done. all the rest of my crimes don’t come close to the look on your face when i let you go.

the taste of your lips on the tip of my tongue is at the top of the list of the things i want

love was something you’ve never heard enough

now i’m searching every lonely place, every corner calling out your name, trying to find you, but i just don’t know. where do broken hearts go?

are you sleeping by yourself? or are you giving it to someone else?

tell me where you go when you feel afraid. tell me, will you ever love me again?

I WANT TO WRITE YOU A SONG // 11x03, "The Bad Seed"

no thoughts only the scene of Dean wrapping a blanket around Cas :)

Notable Lyrics:

i want to write you a song, one that’s beautiful as you are sweet, with just a hint of pain for the feeling that i get when you are gone

i want to lend you my coat, one that’s as soft as your cheek, so when the world is cold, you’ll have a hiding place you can go

everything i need i get from you, giving back is all i wanna do

MOMENTS // 11x23, "Alpha and Omega"

this song is like...every time Dean or Cas is about to sacrifice himself/DIE and they get emotional about it. this is an Exemplary episode that fits well with this song because a) they had time to make this plan, which means they would have time to say goodbyes and be ~intimate~ abt it, and b) the hug towards the end when Cas casually says "I could go with you," offering to DIE alongside Dean :)

Notable Lyrics:

shut the door, turn the light off. i wanna be with you, i wanna feel your love. i wanna lay beside you. i cannot hide this, even though i try.

trembling hands touch skin, it makes this harder. and the tears stream down my face

if we could only have this life for one more day. if we could only turn back time

i’ll be your life, your voice, your reason to be. my love/my heart is breathing for this moment in time. i’ll find the words to say before you leave me today.

don’t wanna be without you

there’s a pile of my clothes at the end of your bed as i feel myself fall, make a joke of it all

NO CONTROL // 12x23, "All Along the Watchtower"

this could honestly go anywhere, but i’m placing it in here in the chronology because it’s Cas charging blindly and headfirst into battle with literal Lucifer to protect Dean :) good moment contextually because before Cas ran away to help this woman give birth, he had a pretty cozy domestic life with Dean :) it's important to note that this does get him killed, which does lead to another grieving wife phase for Dean :)

Notable Lyrics:

beside you i’m a loaded gun. i can’t contain this anymore. i’m all yours, i’ve got no control. powerless, and i don’t care it’s obvious. i just can’t get enough of you. the pedal’s down, my eyes are closed

i don’t want to wash away the night before, and the heat where you laid, i could stay right here and burn in it all day

THROUGH THE DARK // 14x14, "Ouroboros"

this is not about the gay gorgon, folks, it's about the Ma'lak Box. Dean is crushed by the responsibility of having to lock himself in a LITERAL box to prevent Michael (the archangel inside his mind) from taking over

Notable Lyrics:

you tell me that you’re hurt and you’re in pain, and i can see your head is held in shame, but i just wanna see you smile again

i’ll be here for you. i will carry you over fire and water for your love. i will hold you closer, hope your heart is strong enough

i wish that i could take you to the stars. i’d never let you fall and break your heart

you tell me that you hurt, it’s all in vain, but i can see your heart can love again, and i remember you laughing so let’s just laugh again

CHANGE MY MIND // 15x03, "The Rupture"

Dean is being a pissy lil bitch because their child died and Castiel can’t deal with it so he leaves :) there’s a lot of stress in their relationship because they both have horrible communication issues. it boils down to Dean thinking like “i want people to just want to stay instead of leaving. i shouldn’t have to ask for that.” and Cas thinking like “i want people to tell me they want me around. i need that verbalized reassurance.” this is canon :)

Notable Lyrics:

the end of the night, we should say goodbye, but we carry on while everyone’s gone

never felt like this before, are we friends or are we more? as i’m walking towards the door, i’m not sure

if you say you want me to say, i’ll change my mind. ‘cause i don’t wanna know i’m walking away if you’ll be mine. i won’t go

IF I COULD FLY // 15x09, "The Trap"

Dean and Cas have to go to Purgatory to retrieve an Ingredient~ they get separated and the portal is about to close and Dean gets desperate so he gets on his knees and prays to Cas :) closure of 15x03 breakup scene, because Dean says “I should’ve stopped you. You’re my best friend, but I just let you go. ‘Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong.” :) Dean cries more than one tear, one of his most vulnerable moments in the show (rivaled only by the scene where he tells his mom he hates her). this scene is viewed by many, including jackles, as Dean's love confession especially because he evidently wanted to say something more to Cas's face but Cas cut him off :)

Notable Lyrics:

if i could fly, i’d be coming right back home to you. i think i might give up everything, just ask me to

i hope that you listen, cause i let my guard down. right now i’m completely defenseless

for your eyes only, i’ll show you my heart. i’m missing half of me when we’re apart. now you know me

WALKING IN THE WIND // 15x18, "Despair" and 15x19, "Inherit the Earth"

“Despair” is the episode where Castiel confesses his love too Dean. Dean says “Why does this sound like a goodbye?” and Cas replies “Because it is.” :) reminiscent of the way their son Jack (who is a mirror to Cas) tells Sam and Dean “I'll be in every drop of falling rain, every speck of dust that the wind blows, and in the sand, in the rocks, and the sea.” :)

Notable Lyrics:

if you’re lost, just look for me. you’ll find me in the region of the summer stars

the fact that we can sit right here and say goodbye means we’ve already won

goodbyes are bittersweet, but it’s not the end. i’ll see your face again and you will find me

yesterday i went out to celebrate the birthday of a friend, but as we raised our glasses to make a toast I realized you were missing.

SOMETHING GREAT // 15x18, "Despair"-15x20, "Carry On"

Cas pov for 18 and Dean pov for 20 :) Cas saying "the one thing I want... It's something I know I can't have." :) and then Dean missing and wanting Cas back after he died, saying to God, "Cas. You gotta bring him back," yet again falling back into bad alcoholism and depression and suicidal ideation :)

Notable Lyrics:

i want you here with me like how i pictured it, so i don’t have to keep imagining

the script was written…i want to rip it all to shreds and start again. one day i’ll come into your world and get it right

you’re all i want, so much it’s hurting

TRULY MADLY DEEPLY // Post-Canon mwah!

This is what it would have been like for Dean in the version of Supernatural that totally definitely does exist, in which Jack brought Cas back to life and Dean and Cas were reunited and Dean tells Cas he loves him too and then they live a domestic and safe life and Dean is still shocked every morning that he wakes up next to the love of his life :)

Notable Lyrics:

i can’t believe that you are here and lying next to me

like all those days and weeks and months i tried to steal a kiss, and all those sleepless nights and daydreams where i pictured this

somehow you kicked all my walls in, so say you’ll always keep me

should i put coffee and granola on a tray in bed, and wake you up with all the words that i still haven’t said? and tender touches just to show yo how i feel, or should i act so cool like it was no big deal?

[sadistgalore]

Chapter 4: This Is Where The Fun Begins

Previous | Next | Masterlist

CW: Starvation, human trafficking mention, suicide mention, dehumanization, implied torture, implied non con, defiant whumpee, humiliation, slapping, electrocution, master/pet, beating, broken bones, torture, conditioning

Harper couldn’t sleep that night. She was fucking scared shitless.

She was locked in a cold, dark room being starved, and was being reduced to sleep on a cement floor. Not to mention, she was fucking kidnapped by a pervert that killed her father and took her brother.

She and Beth had read missing person cases, and investigated strange networking of human trafficking. They never got anywhere close, but they met survivors, and the stories they told were horrible.

Being reduced to be another person’s pet, being dehumanized and forced to crawl like a dog or cat, being kept in a cage and getting dog food.

The worst one Harper remembered was a girl her age, who escaped from her “master” a few weeks before. She was visibly thin, likely starved, and she had several scars on her body that she was afraid would never heal. She described her life for three years, where she was mostly confined to a bed being used over and over again. She was nothing more than a toy for her owner however they wanted, and she mentioned the punishments she would have to endure if she didn’t follow exactly what her master said.

Harper still got goosebumps whenever she thought of that poor girl’s story, and will never forget the day when she saw her body in the police station morgue.

Death by suicide.

“Oh god,” she whispered. “Oh fuck, that’s gonna be me.”

She shakily drew in a breath, and exhaled in a sob. She broke down crying, regretting everything she ever did bringing herself here, and could not stop thinking how she would end up exactly like that survivor.

I don’t wanna be...oh my god I can’t even think about it. Will I even get out of here? What will he do to me? He said he won’t hurt me if I follow his orders, but what will those orders be? I don’t wanna degrade myself for him...should I submit or be defiant?

After a moment of thinking, she made up her mind that she wouldn’t break like that girl. She would be strong, for Beth. Beth would find her, or Nic. She won’t be here for long, she knew it.

They already got his name, Alpha team was about to raid the Vault, so they’ll save me...right?

Harper shook her head, she couldn’t think like that. She had to remain strong and not lose hope. She got up and put her back to the wall next to the door, and soon as someone came in, she would attack.

Not even after a minute of standing there, Harper heard a voice from the ceiling.

“Tsk, tsk, little dove. We’re not playing that game. Get back to your little corner, else you’ll regret it when I get there.”

Harper looked around, there’s was no one in the room how did he-

“There’s a camera, dumbass.”

Harper’s face flushed red as she noticed the camera in each of the corners of the room. She sighed and walked back to her corner in shame.

Not gonna submit, huh?

“Whatever,” she mumbled to herself as she put her head in between her knees.

She laid there for about an hour, occasionally whimpering whenever her stomach growled, until the door opened.

Harper scrambled up to her feet and clutched the wall behind her once she saw who it was.

“Good afternoon, Harper,” Dark said as he stepped into the room.

Harper said nothing when he walked right in front of her face, then slapped her.

“What the hell?” She yelled as she clutched her stinging cheek.

“Lesson one,” the man said as he walked into the center of the room, pulling out a cattle prod from his belt.

“You address me with respect, not silence and a scowl,” he finished as he turned on the cattle prod, causing blue sparks to form. It took every ounce of Harper’s willpower not to flinch.

“Let’s start from the beginning, shall we? If I were to call you, you would walk over to me, head down. Do not look at me in my eyes without permission, and be prepared to crawl if I command you to. Now, little dove, come.”

Harper stared at him with a mixture of shock and disgust. “I’m not a dog.”

Dark rolled his eyes and flipped a switch on the cattle prod, which shot a string with the taser heads attached to it. It latched onto Harper and shocked her, causing her to scream immediately.

“You’re whatever I goddamn say you are,” Dark growled as he retreated the tasers back from his captive’s chest. “Now, come. I don’t like repeating myself.”

Harper blinked away tears, those tasers fucking hurt like a bitch, and slowly walked over to her tormentor, eyes on the ground.

“Good girl,” Dark said, patting her head, and Harper couldn’t resist her flinch.

“Next step,” the man continued. “When I say a greeting to you, you respond the exact same thing, ending your sentence with either Sir or Master and, only if I allow it, Edward or Mr. Darmine. I hate the name Dark, the public and your little police force gave me. You will not address me with any other title, no bastard, asshole, bitch, none of that else your punishment will either be a muzzle attached to your face or your lips sewn shut. Speaking of muzzles, you will continue to address me properly even if you are gagged.”

Harper swallowed while she stared at the ground.

What. The. Fuck?! Master? No, no, no, no fucking way. Absolutely fucking not. I guess calling him Sir is fine, but no Master.

“So let’s try this again. Good afternoon, Harper.”

No, fuck please no.

“Look at me, Harper.”

Harper’s blue eyes met his cold, dark brown ones. Not even dark brown, more like black; there's barely a hint of color in them.

Dark rested the cattle prod under her chin. “One last time, pet, address me as Master. Good afternoon, Harper.”

The girl’s mouth opened to speak, further investigating the fear just beneath it, but no words came out.

Dark glared, raising an eyebrow as a small sign of mercy but still, Harper chose to stay nothing.

He turned the cattle prod back on.

Harper couldn’t even scream as her body seemed to freeze in place, but the searing pain still remained coursing through her veins.

Dark threw the cattle prod back and forth between his hands. “I can do this all day, little dove. Just call me Master and all this pain will end.”

“N-never...asshole-” Harper was cut off by her own screams.

“Now, what did I say about those no-no words, dear?”

Harper was twitching, struggling to keep upright, and Dark noticed this.

“Another good lesson you should learn, sweetheart, is to kneel when your owner tells you to.”

“O-owner?”

“Yes, Harper,” the man said while gripping her chin. “You’re my property now.”

Despite her pain and the consequences, Harper spit in the man’s face.

Dark threw her back, disgusted, and reached for a handkerchief to wipe off the saliva from his face.

“You,” he murmured. “Are going to regret that.”

He flipped another switch on the prod which caused a chain reaction to extend the base and retract the taser so the cattle prod looked more like a baton.

He lunged at her, not perturbed by his captive weakly covering her face with her arms. The baton hit the side of her waist, then landed another hit in her calf. He continued till Harper was on the ground, and continued even as a few of her ribs and bones began to break. He finally stopped when he heard a blood-curling scream from Harper, and saw bone sticking through her arm.

“Oopsies,” he chuckled awkwardly. “Sometimes I just see red and just can’t hold back, you know?”

Harper just sobbed as she clutched her arm. Her entire body was in white hot pain, and she wanted to throw up once she saw her bone piercing her own skin.

“Alright,” Dark said with a playtime is over tone. “Get up and let’s try this again.”

“No, please,” the broken girl whimpered. “Please I can’t.”

“Yes, you can because I’m ordering it. I don’t care what you want or how you’re feeling. You do whatever I say, no questions asked.”

Harper still remained on the ground, sobbing, making no effort to move.

Dark sighed and raised his arm, clearly in Harper’s line of sight even through her tears.

“No, please! I’m s-sorry, okay? I’ll try again...I’ll try.”

Dark retreated his arm and stepped back, giving Harper room to get up.

She was shaking all over, and it seemed damn near impossible to just prop herself off the ground. But still, she tried and managed to get on your knees, crying out in pain as she did so.

Harper flinched as she heard the cattle prod crackle. “I don't have all day, pet. Hurry up before I give you another beating, this time with a bat of nails.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” You’re a quick learner. “Please, I can do it just no more-“

Again, cattle prod lifted up her chin and she was met by a deathly glare.

“I hate excuses. I don’t care, keep going.”

Harper nodded as he removed the tool, and finally stood up straight again.

“Try again from the beginning, no mistakes.”

Dark stepped back into a separate corner of the room.

“Come, pet.”

Harper walked over to him, eyes down.

“Kneel.”

She took it as a mercy and listened, considering it a rest from her sore and broken body.

“I’m leaving. Have a good afternoon, darling.”

Still, Harper couldn’t bring herself to do it. She couldn’t degrade herself like that.

She cried out again as she was met with a harsh slap. Dark grabbed her chin.

“You will learn very quickly that I am not a patient man. When I tell you to do something, you do it, understand? Now, address me as Master or I’ll cut out your tongue.”

How could he say that so casually? Plus, he wouldn’t do that...would he?

Dark cleared his throat.

“Have a good night...Master.”

Dark kissed the top of her head. “Good girl, just do that from now on and follow orders, and you won’t get anymore beatings.”

“S-sir…?” Her voice was barely a whisper. She clutched her arm, still in very much pain.

“I’ll give you some pain relievers with your food in a few hours. Oh, and don’t blame me; it’s your fault that happened.”

And with that, he left with a composure that he didn’t just beat the shit out of someone.

Harper fell to the floor, still clutching her arm in pain. She eventually managed to crawl her way over back to her corner, leaning against it in the most comfortable way possible.

I can not believe this is actually my life now. I’ve spent every day trying to find my father’s killer only to be taken as his fucking pet! He seems attached, will he treat me differently than all of the other people he kidnapped? Or will he end up killing me when he gets bored? Maybe he’ll keep me, and if I seem like I submitted to him, he’ll show me around, maybe slip a little, and I can find out as much information as I can from the inside. Maybe he knows what happened to my brother.

Maybe he’s like me, and is in a cell somewhere.

Maybe I could save my brother.

Harper stared up at the ceiling, with a new goal set in mind.

“I’m coming, Harry.”

[neriad13]

I spent today fleshing out my Persephone headcanons and inventing Rapture-specific prison slang. =D

Persephone Prison Slang

Upstairs - Fontaine Futuristics, i.e. “They took him upstairs two nights ago. Ain’t seen him since.”

FF - Fontaine Futuristics, i.e. “Ay Dios mio! The ‘ol FF didn’t get that one right!”

Penthouse - the rest of Rapture, i.e. “Well...okay...maybe things are like that up in the Penthouse but here...they don’t have to be.”

Basement-level - Persephone, i.e. “So what’d you do to make it Basement-level, comrade?”

Sub-basement - Persephone’s woman’s wing, which is smaller and has less amenities than the men’s, i.e. “She’s Sub-basement. Apparently their infirmary can’t handle fourth degree burns.”

Sun - the surface, i.e. “Yeah, I’ve got two sons under the sun. I was planning to invite them down once I was settled but...well…” 

Splicy - a badly deformed splicer, i.e. “You think you’re ever gonna see sun again, splicy?”

Square - inmate who has not been notably deformed by splicing, i.e. “So, in here, you’ve got your splicys and you’ve got your squares. It’s best to stick to your own group.”

Meatpackers - infirmary workers. Best known for packing the bodies of inmates who have died of something interesting in ice, for shipment to Fontaine Futuristics for further study, i.e. “Goddamn meatpackers wouldn’t refill my morphine drip.”

Chronic - an inmate who returns to Fontaine Futuristics for product testing more often than what’s required in order to get high/satisfy ADAM cravings, i.e. “Poor guy’s a chronic now. Won’t be long before he takes the big nap.”

Matchstick - a new arrival who has never spliced before, i.e. “That matchstick you’re bunking with get burnt up yet?”

The Brig - solitary confinement, i.e. “They threw him in the brig after he dumped a load of bees on Wilson’s head.”

Big Man - Sinclair, i.e. “Plasmids, gene tonics - whatever it is, it goes through us first. The Big Man turns a profit renting us out.”

Cherry Juice - ADAM. Also shortened to ‘Juice’, i.e. “You got the juice, bucko?”

Steve - covert way of referring to EVE, i.e. “Seen Steve lately?” “Nah, he’s been gone awhile.”

Persephone Headcanons

 - Warden Weir isn’t spliced - he’s just badass. He maintains control through sheer brutality and force of personality. He regularly wades into splicer fights to break them up himself.

 - The woman’s wing is badly overcrowded and understaffed, which gave Lamb a lot more freedom to move around it than she would have otherwise. Sinclair’s plans to expand it were cancelled after control of Persephone was wrested from him. 

 - There’s a system of appeals that a prisoner can go through to attempt to secure their freedom, but most everyone knows that the paperwork gets thrown away the second you file it. A few people become obsessed with the desperate hope of getting themselves out this way but most accept that they’re going to be here for the long haul. Harold Parson appealed for years before losing hope.

 - The commissary is stocked with overpriced luxury items to tempt inmates into volunteering for product testing and can be accessed during all daylight hours. Non-slop food can also be purchased from the “Sinclair’s Deluxe Meals” menu. A lot of people stay sane by buying little luxuries for themselves now and then. But there’s a danger in falling too deeply into that mindset and needing those luxuries to get by. The more money they need, the more money they need to earn and the only way most people can earn money, they well know, is by exchanging their health and humanity at Fontaine Futuristics.

 - In the beginning, all test subjects were chosen at random, drugged and shipped off to Fontaine Futuristics. After Sinclair implemented the volunteer system, the number of involuntary testing stints dropped, but did not cease. Fontaine Futuristics sends Persephone a weekly quota they need filled, which often cannot be done with volunteers alone. Inmates are chosen based on how recently they were Upstairs, how many times they’ve tested products and how many favors the guard doing the kidnapping (usually after lights out) owes them. Old timers who have done this multiple times are pretty chill about it and try to get it over with as quickly and smoothly as possible. It’s considerably scarier for first timers, for whom they often have to break out the ether.

 - There’s a huge, overt gambling ring headed by Dodge, a former mafia don. His lackeys are always somewhere close by to facilitate bets on fights, games and cockroach races. He’s also in the business of loans. Every so often, after a fight caused by a gambling dispute or a mysterious death happens, there’s a crackdown on his business, but it never lasts. After all, a good chunk of the prison staff are in his pocket too.

 - The Persephone economy is entirely cash-based, in order to facilitate spending in the commissary. Everyone has a spot where they hide their savings and they can usually whip out a wad of cash from nowhere at a second’s notice. Stealing from a cell in which its occupant is not present is considered to be an action of the lowest parasitical caliber. But beating up the occupant and then taking their things is fine, as they did earn the things with the sweat of their brow.

 - Persephone is home to common thieves, murderers and grifters, but a not-insignificant part of the population are political prisoners who have been jailed for their outspoken Collectivist views. These are the ones who try to make Persephone a better place than the one they were exiled from. They help the ones who are suffering the most as best they can. They do favors without expecting recompense. When someone threatens a weaker inmate, if they are able to, they step in to help. The rare occasions they are allowed to be together are the thing that keeps them going.

  - There’s a divide between the Splicys and the Squares - partially staff mandated, partially cultural. The general rule of thumb is that the more heavily spliced someone is, the more unstable they are and the more danger they present to the general population. Splicys and Squares are generally kept in separate cell blocks. In the cafeteria, they sit at different tables. Interaction between them is minimized as much as possible. The Squares are afraid of the Splicys because in them, they see their own future. Sometimes this fear manifests as outright anger, which leads to devastating violence. Every Square knows that he’ll become a Splicy himself someday.

 - The line between Splicy and Square is not always clear and is based more on physical deformity than anything else. A Splicy could be someone whose single splice led to a very visible physical deformity. A Square could be someone who’s spliced over and over but experienced little in side effects. 

 - Not all Splicys have lost their minds. A lot of them are just disabled individuals who are now dealing with ostracization on top of everything else.There are Squares who secretly keep up contact with their friends who have gone over to the other side.

 - Plasmid Theater contestants are chosen based on who has the least messed up face. Can’t be showing the public any horrifying side effects. Every so often someone will volunteer for the job, but it tends to be a very short lived appointment, as it’s an environment where things can go wrong very, very easily.

 -  The majority of Plasmid Theater demonstrations are supposed to be non-lethal, but accidents and “accidents” are rampant. Every so often a rich investor will sponsor a lethal fight, either for fun or to witness the destructive potential of plasmids for personal security use. A prisoner is normally worth more alive than dead to Sinclair, but if the price is right, he’ll provide.

[inkabelledesigns]

Introductions to Equinox: Doll Profiles (January 2020)

Equinox is filled with many wonderful dolls. Today I’d like to introduce you to some of my favorites. Apologies for the lower image quality on the sketches, I haven’t been able to get the scanner to work yet, so it’s all photos of my sketchbook from my phone. ^^’’’

Loraine Celeste: Captain of the Royal Guard

Wow, artwork from Inktober AND this past Christmas? Yeah, can you tell I forget to post stuff on here? XD Folks, meet Loraine, who undeniably has gotten the most positive reception besides Auran when I share this stuff in smaller groups. Like Auran, she is a nutcracker, but she didn’t start off that way. Originally she was built to be a dancer for the Swansong Ballet, run by the lovely couple Odette and Siegfried (which is a whole different can of worms). Just a standard wooden doll who was light on her feet. She did her job beautifully, her skill was undeniable, but she wasn’t content. While dancing was all well and good, she found her greatest joys when something went amiss. Several stagehands were rescued by her hand from falling lights and trapdoors, no thanks to a bratty ballerina who kept pushing them in the way of danger. She’s one of the few dolls my story focuses on that actually knew both the king and queen in person. The queen was charmed by her performances. In one case, they had just a moment to talk backstage after one, to which she imparted the most important words Loraine would ever here. “Wherever your heart guides you, that’s the place you ought to be. After all, the role is called “heroine,” sometimes you get saved, sometimes you do the saving.”

A few years after the queen’s death, Loraine finds herself in a doll’s only tavern. On that particular night, a soldier from the guard has come in to watch the merriment with a friend by his side. The two end up conversing throughout the night, laughing and dreaming of what it would be like to live in the other’s shoes. One night turns to two, then three, then a few weeks, and the two hatch a brilliant plan. With the help of the soldier’s friend, they switch their parts and disguise as one another at their jobs. It takes months for them to be caught, but the two end up switched permanently, happier than ever in a place that best suits them both. Lorain climbed her way up the ranks and became the captain of King Hans’ forces, and Equinox is safe and secured thanks to her fine judgment. 

Manny Quinn: The Royal Outfitter

With a name so cheeky, it’s no wonder that Manny has such a sense of humor. The mannequin has seen his fair share of daring moments. For many years he was confined to a shop window, posing the latest trends for passerby's to see. But Manny was more than a model, he was an artist. When there was no more work to be done for the day, Manny would return home and burn the midnight oil as he stitched together the most beautiful threads. Ballgowns, capes, hats, and a large selection of wigs were all in his collection, all made from scraps, odds, and ends that his workplace discarded recklessly. Inspired by the story of Cinderella, he disguised himself one day while off from work to go to the annual market and present his wares for sale. With the interest of an investor, Manny was finally able to sell his designs and make his way forward as the first doll to change the fashion industry. He now works as the royal outfitter, with his business on the side to keep Equinox looking fabulous, with the help of his assistant, Hermy. 

While I won’t get into it too much just yet, Manny is also capable of shapeshifting, thanks to something known as dust magic that we’ll get to in another post. Trust me, it’s gonna be fun when we get to the rules of magic in this world. Most don’t know of his abilities, but it certainly comes in handy for making clothes that fit a variety of body types.

Amil Pastiche: The Peridot Puppet

Marionettes are jolly good fun, and Amil is no exception. There aren’t many toys in Equinox that are built to be so youthful, but his energy is contagious, and the children love his performances. But Amil’s story isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. His father, the puppeteer, was a lonely man, who much like Gepetto who created Pinnochio, wanted a son. He built one in Amil, hoping maybe some far off fae would grant his wish for a human boy, but no such luck was to be had. Amil didn’t care, he was happy just as he was, but his father was not. The poor boy was never good enough, and when the curtains were closed, he was treated horribly, unable to escape and call out for help. Eventually, things got so bad that the little puppet ran away, seeking refuge in the palace, begging for sanctuary. Loraine was the one to graciously let him in on that cold, stormy night, and he was rescued. Through a difficult trial, his father was imprisoned for his abusive actions, and Amil was free. He eventually went to work as a stagehand for the ballet, only to perform again occasionally after all those years of being worn down. 

All three have since become good friends throughout the years. There’s two more for us to talk about in their merry little band, but one must wait, and the other, well, I think you know who it is. For now, though, we rest, until it is time for another story.~ 

Thank you all for tuning in, if this interested you, don’t worry, there’s a heck of a lot more where this came from. The Doll Mender is a story I plan to do great things with, and I hope you’re ready to take the journey with me to turn these past two years’ content into something wonderful! ^^ If you have any questions or want to know more, my inbox is always open. I’d love to hear what you think and if there’s anything specific you’d like to see! ^^

[thesummerstorms]

Rev Recaps Hard Contact (Chapter 16)

After last chapter, I had two glasses of moscato, so we’ll see how this goes.

CW: repeated mentions of rotting animal corpses/smell, characters getting covered in sewage (again), claustrophobia, mind influence

TL;DR Recap: Atin and Darman go through the gdan warrens into Uthan’s facility and discover they’re claustrophobic. Niner blows up the villa to cover the explosives Darman is using to enter the facility, and Majestic bombs some droids from orbit. Etain tries her best to be helpful. The blogger makes fun of both Atin and Dar for their explosives use. Atin and Dar find Uthan.

Beginning Kal Count: 30 Ending Kal Count: 32

So we’re gonna open up in Darman’s point of view.

I don’t know shit about guns. I live in Texas, but have never held, much less shot one. Does this mean that Atin has his finger on the trigger or is holding it just above it in the little circle thingy?

Also, Darman, sweetheart. Being the bomb factory does not stop you from blowing up. Just saying.

Kal Count is upped to 31, but mainly I just kinda love this quote. If you’ve read Triple Zero, then you may join me in the delicious irony of them wanting black armor this entire mission for disguise purposes only to finally get it right before a mission to Fest. Thus proving Atin’s point above. Anyway Jinart is sniffing echolocating her way along ahead of them, and eventually comes to a stop and points out the entrance to the gdan tunnels. They need to crawl through the warrens in order to capture Uthan inside the facility... so of course this is the moment that Atin and Dar both find out that they’re claustrophobic:

I’m not even claustrophobic, and it sounds miserable to me, to be quite honest. But, on a more... pointed, note. Izzy has already explained much more fluently than me how much this scene means Kal is an absolute shit planner. Because Kal built a home on Mandalore that was supposed to be a safe haven for any clone deserters who wanted to become Mandalorian in True Colors/Order 66... but Kyrimorut was built  at least partially underground and partially uses underground tunnels both as exits and as connections.

I’m just saying, as we go through this chapter... we’re gonna see why that might be an issue.But first-

Listen, I may hate Jinart, but this scene makes me laugh pretty much every time. Every time. No inspirational metaphors for Atin, and Jinart is 100% scowling at him.

They continue on through the tunnels, and honestly the details get gross. Not just in the typical “fantasy escape through sewers trope” kind of way, but Darman smells something rotten that reminds him of bodies and Geonosis, so on top of his dizziness from the claustrophobia, he now has nausea, as does Atin. They ask Jinart about it and her first reply misses the point: 

Listen, my guy tells me this is some sort of health code violaton, but I know fuck all about plumbing. And no, that is not all they can smell, but Jinart apparently doesn’t notice the smell of decomposition until it’s pointed out to her. Jinart eventually realizes what they’re talking about and assures them that it’s from the gdan’s prey. Darman feels relieved for at least a moment (that stops when he sticks his hands in entrails) but I’d just like to point out that the gdan, while primarily hunting merlies, have tried to eat our human protagonists literally every time they step foot outside. Anyway, Darman puts his hand in entrails, has a flashback of Skirata running next to him in something called the “sickener” which was essentially training in a pit full of nerf entrails, and struggles not to throw up in his sealed helmet. Joyful.

Kal Count is now 32.

Eventually they reach a larger chamber where Dar and Atin start digging out their tunnel to the pipes under the facility and Jinart leaves them to go back to Niner after Dar sends her away. Darman notes that it would only take one or two shots from the rifle to clear, but that would bring the roof AND  a bunch of droids on top of them, so he and Atin keep working and sweating like pigs.Once they dig close enough, Darman uses their battering ram to break into the drain, and is promptly covered in a spray of shit from the pipes. This sends both him and Atin into hysterics, because again, they’re both not doing well in the confined space and are exhausted.

“Darman had never even seen the man smile.” And the first time is when Darman is covered in shit from a sewer pipe. Darman comms Niner to tell him they’re almost through, and the scene switches to Niner’s point of view.

Dar explains that they’re stuck at a filter in the pipe that will have to be blown open with explosives because it’s permacreted in. Darman asks for two minutes to set the charge, and Niner worries the entire time. He, Fi, and Etain don’t have anything to do yet, but he’s worried for Dar and Atin.

Niner is literally counting seconds and dealing with anxiety, Fi is calmly waiting with the cannon... and Etain is pacing. This is her nervous habit. Like, I had already headcanoned that, but it’s nice to be confirmed by canon. Even if Niner wants to chastise her for it and can’t. 

Man, he’s literally counting the seconds. Etain is the queen of asking well-intentioned but awkward as hell questions, and I’m pretty sure the lack of “ma’am” is the closest Niner is every going to get to saying “fuck you”. I could definitely live without yet another mention of mind influence, but as I say, addressed in Triple Zero... and at least Niner’s not nauseated anymore I guess?

They blow the filter on the facility and the bombs in the villa at the same time to disguise Atin and Darman’s entrance. Droids start coming out of the facility, which is disguised with a barn, to investigate, but Niner orders Fi & the E-Web to wait and tries to dismiss Etain/get her out of the way.

Etain is already not content with her Trandoshan shotgun array blaster or Traviss has forgotten she has it, which isn’t unlikely. She wants the concussion rifle instead (looking at it “longingly” already!), and she wants a job to do.

Niner gives Fi the go ahead, so he opens up with the E-Web (which again a literal, actual cannon) and starts firing, with Niner assisting via grenades. The entire time, they’re being rained on with “hot, metal shrapnel”.  But the droids stop advancing. so then Niner asks Majestic to bomb them from orbit if the droids start headed towards them from another direction.

Other than Fi’s comment, I’m not particularly sure why Niner expects Etain to be “in distress”. Or how he missed the fact that he was almost decapitated by shrapnel until Etain deflected it. Ngl it took me several readings of this scene to even parse the exact sequence of events. BUT it is nice for Etain to finally, actually get to be useful to Niner and Fi and do Jedi things without everyone including her beating her up about her weakness.

The scene cuts back to Niner & Dar, who have successfully made it in to Uthan’s facility:

Apparently if you leave Darman and Atin alone together without Niner or some other regulating force, you just get unending sass.

Dar has no idea what’s dangerous and what isn’t, so they decide to just explode everything, to be on the safe side. They make it through the inner chamber and are approaching the front of the complex, but haven’t seen anything yet. Majestic is bombing things outside. Dar is literally sticking high-burning explosives to everything he can.

“Disappointingly small” Darman please.

Darman. Why are you opening the potential virus box, Darman. 

You can’t set in NEXT to the potential virus box? Like the box is somehow gonna withstand that charge?

Yes, Atin, the fridge door is going to withstand the military grade explosives.

Anyway, Atin uses a mini emp to partially unseal a containment door, which is useful and also will later screw them over. It raises just enough for Dar to wedge something under it and the two of them the muscle it open, and then they start the “house clearing” portion of the op, headed into the part of the facility that’s actually inhabited. Droids and Separatists pin them down, so they comm to Fi & Niner. Then things get worse as they’re pinned in place by bulkheads.

So things are not looking great. They’re trapped by bulkheads, surrounded by Seps on the other side of those bulk heads, they no longer have access to their explosives.

Except.

I had to google what “half look different” meant. Like, I was pretty sure it meant “really” but I had to use google to confirm. Provided the British don’t also use a different connotation of “amazing” when using it in slang though... Atin likes Uthan’s hair?

Anyway, they found the mad scientist trying to kill them, and she’s armed and trapped in a confined space with them, so we hit a pretty good cliffhanger here, or would’ve if this were an episode and not a chapter.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

My Little Secret part 2

Summary: Something happened last night, and your brain is foggy on the details. You run into someone familiar when taking a fun little trip to Saint Denis.

Warnings: Alcohol mention and use, mention and use of weed (well, vaping)

With the sun shining through the blinds of your bedroom window, you woke up from a sound sleep. Although, you couldn’t remember exactly when you got home and how, it felt more like a dream anything. Did you hit your head or something?

Thinking back, you vaguely remembered getting into your car…being helped, actually. Someone had helped you, though your brain was too fogged to remember who exactly.

Either way, you’d gotten home without any issues.

The bright and sunny sky showed promise, a beautiful Saturday to enjoy. That is until you saw the mountain of textbooks resting upon your desk, and you groaned. Guess the day would be spent doing homework.

You spent a couple of hours around the house, cooking yourself breakfast and cleaning up the miniscule space you had in your apartment. You showered, treating yourself to a personal spa day. Eventually you’d run out of tasks to do, and you eventually had to turn to those textbooks.

It wasn’t exactly hard, yet there was a vast amount. Grad school for pharmacology, you read drug names a hundred times over. You knew human anatomy like the back of your hand, all of the effects and contraindications of different drugs. With all the information you’d crammed into your head for these past five years, it was a miracle your brain hadn’t shut down by now.

As an hour passed, your focus began to wander back to last night. Nothing seemed to add up, and you couldn’t remember why you needed help. Maybe you’d passed out somehow? You could recall leaving the building, and then between that and the car…nothing.

You thought harder, trying to fight past the fog that clouded your memory. You could recall…a voice…

The sound of your phone ringing snapped you from your train of thought. Grabbing it, the caller ID flashed with your friend’s name.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Hey girl!” your friend, Sam, responded. “What’re you doing at this moment?”

“Eh, homework,” you sighed. “Feels like I barely made a dent.”

Sam made a noise of sympathy. “Well, you wanna take a break? Some of us are heading to Saint Denis today.”

“What for?” you asked.

“To have fun, of course!” Sam exclaimed. “Do a little shopping in the daytime, bar hop at night!”

Tempting. You thought about it for a moment, but you had to at least finish your homework. “I don’t know, Sam. This homework isn’t gonna finish itself.”

“Do it tomorrow,” she answered quickly. “Come on, it’s been a while since we all got to enjoy ourselves. And Saint Denis is the perfect place to do so!”

She had a point. The last time you’d truly had a fun night out was after midterms, in celebration of you passing all of them. Plus, you did like Saint Denis. The French charm that laced the city never got old. “Alright, you.ve convinced me.” You finally gave in.

You could practically see the grin on her face on the other end of the line. “Sweet. We’ll swing by and get you then.”

—-

You’d been ready to go within the hour, your friends swinging by in a large SUV to pick you up. Within two hours, you were in the intricate city of Saint Denis. You’d stopped at a diner for some lunch before hitting the streets to have a little bit of fun.

Saint Denis was a beautiful city with its French inspired architecture and culture. You’ve only been here a few times, yet you were always lost in its grandeur. High end restaurants and clubs lined the busier streets, while cute boutiques and hobby shops were confined to smaller streets and alleyways. Theaters and galleries were popular amongst natives and tourists alike.

You’d wandered in and out of smaller shops, collecting a couple of souvenirs as you went. Munching on snacks here and there, or just viewing items you wish you had the money to spend on. Clothes that would take a week’s worth of pay to purchase.

There was always something for you to do here, and each visit unveiled a new experience for you. This time your group had gone into a new museum of local history that had opened, a small building on the corner towards the center of the city.

Being a history buff, it definitely interested you more than your friends did. You spent a little more time than you’d like to admit while going through the exhibits, learning about how the city seemed to be a hot spot for outlaws in the late 19th century, even displaying a gun of a fallen gang member from a huge bank heist.

After your friends bugging you to leave, you wandered back out into the humid air. The sun was fairly low in the sky by then, a late afternoon beginning to be touched by twilight in the horizon. The need for alcohol was becoming apparent, and the daygoers were soon returning to their homes as the young night owls were appearing.

Your group eventually came across an old bar that wasn’t very packed yet. It was saloon style, a different setting from the club that you worked at. It wasn’t crowded yet, though a good amount of people moved amongst the space. Music played overhead, the clank of pool balls slamming together occasionally rang out from the corner.

With the first round of drinks, your group sat at a table, drinking happily and chatting about everything you hadn’t covered earlier today. As time wore on and the sky outside darkened, and more patrons entered. The music slowly began to pick up the pace, and a few bodies were beginning to dance.

At some point you’d moved over to the pool table, dividing yourselves into two teams of three. It started out fun, giggling at the awkward taps and misses and cheering whenever someone got a ball into one of the holes. Over time though you began to get bored, your idle eyes slowly scanning the ever growing crowd as you sipped on another drink.

It was more diverse than the club back at home, at least for a Saturday night. Sure, there were many people around your age, as well as older patrons swarming around the bar and buying pitchers of beer.

The sky had completed darkened now, from what you’ve noticed as the door occasionally opened, bringing a gust of humidity amongst the crowd. Gazing aimlessly, lost in a small daze as your friends continued the pool game.

But wait-

You looked toward a shadowed spot again. Towards the back of the bar, a figure stood, casually leaning against the wall with his arms folded. His head was tilted down, hidden behind what looked like a cowboy hat.

The brim lifted, immediately uncovering a pair of intense blue eyes. Somehow, they seemed familiar…

“Y/N!” Sam called to you. “Your turn!”

You blinked and turned towards the table again, noting the expectant looks on your friends’ faces. You sighed and grabbed a cue, lining up your shot for the eight ball.

---

Some time had passed after finishing the pool game, and you wandered back over to the bar for another drink. Squeezing in between others to reach the slightly sticky surface, you placed your empty glass upon it and waited for the bartender to get your attention. It always felt slightly strange to be on the paying side of the bar, knowing you could easily make your own drinks if you were that determined.

Both of the bartenders were busy dealing with others on the far side, not that you minded. You understood that rush all too well. Zoning out once again, you didn’t notice when another person took the empty spot beside you.

It wasn’t until his arm accidentally brushed against yours did you snap out of your daydream. Skin as cold as ice, you glanced toward him. The man from earlier.

It only now occurred where you’d seen him before: the previous night at your own bar. The guy who had a weird, predatory gaze but promised he wouldn’t act as such anymore. And somehow, you remembered him helping you to your car…

“You sure have a thing for starin’, don’t ya?” his voice startled you, not realizing you’d gave him a look longer than just a fraction of a second.

You bit on your bottom lip as you shied away from his gaze. Damn it, he caught you again. This time it wasn’t even intentional. “I’m sorry, I was just trying to remember where I saw you. You were at the club I worked at last night.”

“Yeah, I know I got an ugly mug. Easy to remember.”

Your head snapped up to look at him again. In no way was this guy ugly. From his piercing blue eyes to the built cheekbones and his strong jaw that had a decent amount of stubble, decorated with faint wrinkles and…scars? A rugged sense of handsomeness that touched his features. You never really looked at men much older than you were, yet you had to appreciate this one. “You…aren’t ugly, if that’s why you think I was staring again,” you said with a slight hint of bewilderment. “But…I think…didn’t you help me…or something? Unless I was dreaming.”

“Ah,” he sat up straight. “You tripped n’ fell at some point. Hit your head against them trash cans. I was nearby when I heard it. Came on over wonderin’ if there was a scuffle or somethin’. Saw you layin’, I waited till you came to, then made sure you were okay enough to go home.”

Tripping and hitting your head? You certainly didn’t remember that, yet it would explain the fogginess on what else had happened that night. “Well, I appreciate it, Mr…”

“Arthur,” he finished for you, giving you a small smile. “It’s not a problem, Miss Y/N.”

Wait. “How’d you know my name?” you asked suspiciously.

“You told me, I asked you some questions as you were gettin’ up.” Arthur explained.

Another memory that seemed to have slipped your mind. Maybe you hit your head harder than you’d realized. “Well…good thing you were there to save the day.”

“Or night.” He added.

You half smiled at his response. “So, isn’t it a little odd that we run into each other twice in a row? Saint Denis is a bit of a drive from Rhodes.”

“’Spose you could say that,” Arthur shrugged lightly. “But I came here for some business. Hate the city really, but this bar just happens to be a favorite of mine.”

“Why is that?”

Before answering, Arthur gazed up at the ceiling, staring into the dimness past the low golden lights. “The charm…I guess. This is the oldest bar in Saint Denis, and ain’t much changed. At least so I’ve heard.”

“I thought you said you don’t drink,” you pointed out. “What’s the point of coming here?”

“Fond memories.” His answer was short and quick.

“So, are you from here?” you asked.

Arthur shook his head, his nose wrinkling in slight disgust. “Nah, just have a lot o’ history here, personally. No matter how much I try to escape, somethin’ always drags me back.”

“Sounds like you put yourself in that cycle, Arthur.” you pointed out with slight amusement.

He shrugged again. “Don’t matter that much. Gotta work somehow.”

You hummed a response, understanding that plight all too well. You remembered the job you had in your first years of college. Wasn’t ideal, set in a place that you’d never want to step foot in again. “So what do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

His focus shifted to you again. “I’m an outlaw. I go around robbin’ banks and killin’ folk that need killin’.”

You stared at him. With his nonchalant tone, you weren’t sure if he were joking or not. After a few seconds of silence of contemplating, you snorted into laughter. “Sounds like one hell of a job!” you giggled, and he chuckled himself.

Before you could do anything else, you heard your name being called once again. Turning around, Sam was standing just a few feet away. She held up a vape pen, raising her eyebrows in invitation. You nodded in understanding, and turned toward Arthur again.

And then you realized you forgot to grab another drink. “Shoot, I wanted to order something else.”

“Go on with your friend, I’ll order for ya.” He said.

You frowned slightly, giving him an odd look. You hardly knew him, yet he was offering you to buy a drink?

“Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna spike it,” He said earnestly. “Just think of it as a gift for a nice conversation.”

This guy was strange, yet had a charm to him that you couldn’t place. “Okay, but if you try anything, my friends will gang up on you.” You warned, adding in your drink order and moving through the crowd to join Sam.

---

“Who’s that man you were talking to, Y/N?” Sam asked, her voice rough after taking a drag from the pen and handing it to you.

You two stood outside the bar, off from the main crowd as they entered and existed the building. Taking a drag yourself, you exhaled, coughing slightly at the end before responding. “Some guy I met at my bar last night. Helped me out after I hurt myself.”

“You hurt yourself?” Sam repeated, her eyes wide.

“Yeah, don’t really remember it. He said I fell and hit my head.” You explained.

“Jesus, Y/N,” Sam exasperated. “You’re gonna be a pharmacologist, you can’t go off killing all your brain cells!”

“As if this doesn’t?” you joked, gesturing to the pen.

“Hey, I was high during most of midterms. I passed just fine.” Sam responded as-a-matter-of-factly, swiping it back.

“And I suppose copying my notes had nothing to do with it?” you lightly shot back, unable to hide the grin on your face.

Sam coughed a “shut up” in mid-exhale, leaving both of you giggling to yourselves. As the amusement died down, someone had approached you.

It was Arthur, sidling up to you with a drink in his hand. You blinked in surprise, realizing he was absolutely serious about that drink.

“Here ya are,” he said, holding the glass out to you. “Unspiked n’ all.”

You took it. “Thanks, Arthur,” you glanced at Sam staring at you expectantly. “Oh, Sam, this is Arthur. The guy I just told you about.”

“Ma’am.” Arthur greeted, tilting his head to her.

“Hi! Thanks for helping out Y/N, she told me of your heroic act,” Sam responded, and leaned closer to peer at him from under the hat. “Hey…you look familiar, do you work in Gaskill Hall?”

Arthur stepped back slightly, but shook his head. “Sorry, got me confused with someone else.”

“You’re too high,” You stated with a laugh. “Sorry, Arthur. Sam can be…over the top sometimes.”

Arthur waved the statement off. “That’s alright, I’ve met quite a few like her over the years. Anyway, I’ll leave ya to it, then. I’ll be headin’ off. Enjoy your night, ladies.”

You bid your goodbyes to him, and once again thanked him for the drink. As he sauntered off, you peered into the glass. The fruity smell of the juice masked the stronger smell of the alcohol, the straw bobbing slightly with your movement. It puzzled you as to why he offered to buy your drink..

“Ya know, he’s pretty handsome,” Sam mentioned, breaking your train of thought. “In like a hot professor type of way.”

“What, you think he teaches at the school? Is that why he seems familiar to you?” You asked.

Sam shrugged before taking a short drag of her pen. “I dunno, but I think I’ve seen him before…somewhere. Just can’t really place it.”

You didn’t respond, idly sipping the drink. It tasted just as you expected, nothing gave off an indication that he might have altered it. You had to give him the benefit of the doubt, though. He seemed genuinely kind, giving a different air than any other guy you’d met.

Maybe you’ll run into him again at some point.