#the wings look a little stupid but his face turned out pretty good so

[itsthemorph]

Been a while since some Cerulean Sea art (or since I’ve done non homework art at all 😭) so have a phoenix Arthur piece I did a while ago

[yumeboshi]

𝜗𝜚。．．❛ #02. XXX!

𐙚 topic。．hcs of random things that turn on hsr men

．。𝜗𝜚 cw。suggestive content, i wrote this with no brain, MINORS DNI

．。𝜗𝜚 a/n。aven, sunday, and blade. I wanna write for my bootyhill but i need to study him more to get a grip of him lol

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE ⇢ rebuking his argument in a fight

。i js know he would go crazy when you do this 。he’d find people who just agree with him as boring. To him it may look even insincere 。but you? countering his smartly crafted arguments with irresistible logic with your pretty brain, glaring at him as you do with those adorable eyes? 。this man would go from being mad to being horny. tbh he would have probably already been horny in the argument 。nobody can be more masochistic than he is

“ARE YOU STUPID?” You glare at your boyfriend who looks nonchalant as he idly examines the coin between his fingers. “Fucking look at me. Do you know what happens when you join forces with them? You’re just risking the IPC and it will eventually lead to your unfortunate befall.”

You continue barreling on furiously with concrete points. Every time you prove him wrong, his eyes dance and he tries his hardest to bite back the grin that plays at his lips as you rant on. You are so perfect, he thinks- he is nonetheless impressed at you, your wondrous little brain. Something snaps inside of him when he sees you focused on derailing his points, your lips moving quickly to spit out syllables. He feels a loud moan caught in his throat.

“I get it, I’m sorry, princess, I won’t do it.” he suddenly surrenders and you eye him suspiciously as he advances, hands sneaking up to your back. “Let’s talk this out in bed, ‘m gonna apologize to you there.” He says softly, giving you lovely kisses along your neck but the way his fingers dig into your skin lets you know he’s not going to wait any longer.

And you will be confused as hell, because although you did win the argument, you feel like you just lost something else, a hidden little game he never taught you the rules to.

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY ⇢ whipped cream on your lips

。hear me out… i have a gut feeling he likes it a little too much 。ik it’s totally random but he will go nuts when he sees you bite down a particularly creamy cake that promptly smears its remains over your mouth- he tries to think of something more dignified, but he just can’t. His poor brain keeps returning to the most vulgar visuals of you. 。he will always point out whatever you had near your mouth when you two eat, because he’s such a clean freak, but anything with cream, specifically white whipped cream, he will be unable to comment on it and fall weirdly silent to he point you are confused why you not hear his scolding to wipe your mouth. 。he’ll just watch you eat dessert with a smile on your face as you savor the taste innocently. Unfortunately his brain is not, and he will start to feel his cock struggle under the fabric. 。”you have cream over your mouth, sweetheart. should i clean it for you?” he’ll sound restrained, like he’s being choked but his expression doesn’t waver. 。and after he found out his new obsession, he will literally only buy you huge whipped cream cakes for dessert.

“THE CAKE HERE IS SO GOOD.” You savor the taste happily and dig into the whipped cream cake and eat without much care. “Where’s it from?”

Sunday is too busy staring at you to register that. The creamy ring around your pink lips. It bothers him in a bad way. It’s making him feel like he is out of breath. His wings flicker wildly like a cooling fan, trying to blow off the heat that suddenly started to build inside his stomach like a raging primal flame that’s trapped by his own conscience.

You tap his shoulder gently and he snaps back to reality and tries to stare at your eyes instead, yes, lovely eyes, he thinks- your words phase in and out as he gulps, darting his eyes back to the cake.

“…the brand? The cake brand?” You ask again, frowning at his silence.

“Ah, yes, sorry, sweetheart. I was thinking of something else for a moment.” He breathlessly apologizes, the words spilling out a little too quickly like an excuse that makes your frown deepen in confusion— he closes his eyes and opens them again so the heat will ebb away. But his plans are obliterated when you take a portion of the cake and eat it, all while looking at him in the eye with curious doe eyes.

That’s when he can’t restrain himself anymore. He suddenly seizes your chin with his gloved hand, making you squeal in surprise when he practically devours your lips, licking up the cream residue around them roughly before shoving it inside your mouth with his tongue. The sweet cream melts when it gets to your mouth, mixing with his saliva that dips down your chin to make messy thick lines.

“It was from a shop at Golden Hour. I hope you like the taste,” he’d say as if he didn’t just feast on your mouth like a starved beast. “Me personally, i think it’s a tad too sweet.”

#BྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིLADE ⇢ treating his wounds

。it’s ironic because Blade doesn’t want to be healed at all 。but how could he refuse you you’re frantically at his door with an emergency kit, worry written all over you- you are like a cute puppy that keeps following him around. 。he lets you do it reluctantly at first, grumbling about it inwardly 。but when you lift up his shirt with no hesitation to put gauze to soak in the blood, his muscles tense visibly, when your touch ghosts over his skin like tiny little lilies blooming in their wake. 。what have you done to him? He feels nothing but tension and something he didn’t want to register, something a little too pleasant to him. 。and at some point he will actually look forward to having his would treated by you. He still likes pain, but he likes your touch drifting over his bruised skin like an innocent butterfly way more.

“DOES IT HURT?” You softly pat the ointment around another fresh scar on his broad chest. It pains you to see that most of the scars are near his heart. You sigh like a worried mother. “You worry me.”

“I enjoy it,” he grunts in response, but his brain ran a quick recap. Enjoy what? The pain? Or your smooth touch?

“Stay still,” you say, and he does, as you carefully squeeze in another ointment into an ugly looking scar. His eyes never leave you the whole time, his muscles tense at the pain but otherwise he’s relaxed. His intimidating stare makes you scared a little, considering this mysterious man didn’t speak his mind often.

“I think that’s it,” you say, quickly trying to lower Blade’s shirt back- but the man grabs your wrist mid-action. You jump, confused. His eyes are unreadable but he states, “You’re not done.”

you frown in puzzlement. “I double-checked, im pretty sure I didn’t miss a spot.”

He lifts his shirt up and with his bandaged finger, cuts open the scar you just treated for him, making it ooze another layer of fresh blood around the dried wound. His lips form a rare smirk as he looks at your wide-eyed stare.

“There, you have a new wound to work on.”

He will do that until you are out of ointment, and the next day he will come visit you first this time with another set of fresh scars.

[bbluefllame]

hcs on how I think mha characters sleep

contains: pure silly stupidness

characters: tomura shigaraki, touya todoroki, keigo takami, izuku midoriya, toga himiko, plus one katsuki hc😭

note: LISTEN GANG I WAS SLEEPY BUT I COULDNT SKEEP SO I WAS LIKE OH EM GEE!!! keigo's went out of hand 😔😔😔

tomura shigaraki

- he usually sleeps in his normal attire, he has no energy to get up and change

- sleeps 4 hrs MAX

- his thumbs are always I mean always are covered by the rest of his fingers tightly, he probably decays mattresses every couple of months by accident

- either super light sleeper or super heavy no in-between, probably doesn't even sleep most of the time

- there's no pre-sleep routine. mf just plops down into the bed and blacks out OR he sleeps in his gaming chair😭

- if you're sleeping next to him, he would make sure he's facing the opposite side with his hands dangling at the edge of the bed just to make sure nothing happens to you.

- one thing that makes him black out is playing with his hair, like blackout like snore mimimimi type shit

- he's so still in his sleep, barely moves to the point you might think he's dead if he wasn't breathing‼️

- Overall he'd be a pretty good person to sleep next to (if he even sleeps) just make sure he doesn't have nightmares or everything is done and dusted (literally)

touya todoroki

- he either sleeps naked or something that can't snag on the staples/ irritate his scars (probably naked bcs have you seen his room?? ITS EMPTY EMPTY THERES NOTHING BESIDES HIS USUAL CLOTHES)

- I give him 5-6 hrs maybe then he wakes up but on nights where he's in too much pain, he takes a shit ton of painkillers and tries to sleep just to wake up 2 hrs later

-biggest snorer out there, complete opposite of tomura. esp w those lungs of his omg.

- you could be sleeping and BOOM 🚉 SNOREEEEEE HONKKKK you need earplugs with him, then he wakes up and goes "I don't snore, fuck you mean??"

- he tosses and turns 24/7 also he will 100% steal the blanket and kick you off, at this point it'd be more comfortable to sleep on the ground than to sleep next to him

- yk those videos where it's like someone tweaking while sleeping, like they roll around steal blankets and kick and stuff and do the craziest shit, yeah that's touya

- idk if he has a pre sleep routine I'm leaning towards it depends? he usually just makes sure his scars are clean so he doesn't get an infection and yk die!

- I conclude, a horrible person to sleep next to. Would much rather kms than tolerate a night of his torture!

keigo takami

- this bitch has 2 options, blackout the second he gets home in his hero attire, or if it's a day where he has to recover from an injury or something, these specific navy blue sweatpants and a black t-shirt

- depends on the day he's sleeping either 3 hrs or 9 hrs

- he doesn't snore but he talks in his sleep about the weirdest shit ever "noooo pls don't put me in the airfryer" he 100% has the weirdest fucking dreams to ever exist

- he never sleeps on his back, literally always on his stomach so his wings don't get in the way

- also on the topic of his wings, during said weird dreams if he's running away or something they start flapping and shit😭 it'd be so annoying to sleep next to him

- he sleepwalks 100% you look at that face and tell me he DOESNT?? he's a really light sleeper as well esp for nights where he might be called in

- definitely has a pre sleep routine (if he doesn't immediately blackout) ESP if you're living tg oh em gee, he'd have a longer skincare routine than you (tbf the skincare routine is kind of obligation from him to appeal to the civilians nd shit)

- he'd have a headband on his head pushing his hair back, washing his face, using a toner etcetera, and then going "baaaaaabeeee where'd you put my cosrx snail mucin, I know you used it" and he'd be all sassy and shit (twink cough cough sorry)

- if he's having a calm day, he's being the clingiest cutest little shit, you wanna go to eat? "nooo 5 minutes" . You wanna go to the bathroom? "Ugh be quick" while he's guarding the door waiting to tackle you and drag you back to bed. He's such a little (loving) shit

- he just lays there on top of you not willing to let go with a serene expression on his face, those days are rare though (fuck the commission 😠)

- random but he has some of the worst bed head you could ever see

- overall, kind of annoying to sleep next to (funny as well) but for him, who wouldn't tolerate it 🙏🏼

izuku midoriya

- before OFA bro used to get no sleep he'd have the most fucked up sleep schedule to ever exist ‼️‼️ like during weekends no sleep at all just staying up analyzing new heroes

- w OFA he's sleeping healthily or too much with the amount of energy he uses ESP in the first seasons when he breaks his bones a shit ton

- HIS SLEEP WEAR LMAOAOA funniest thing I've seen i don't have to say anything abt it 😭 a fucking shirt w " t-shirt" on it or sumn

- doesn't snore but moves a lot, and not even kicking?? just flipping side to side or clutching the blanket like he's a woman clutching her purse in the 1800s (no one's taking it from you calm down lil bro)

- occasionally he might talk but it's like 2 words then he flips to the other side

- no pre-sleep routine but that's bc he doesn't need one, his pre-sleep routine is studying or training, BUT bro has to be like wrapping his arms and hands at night or something bcs he's in pain (his arms are fucked up there's no way he doesn't have chronic pain)

- if you're forced to sleep next to each other (insert ur own fanfic idea of why) he would be so tense he'd have his hands by his side tryna not sleep so he doesn't annoy you, at this point, you'd be annoyed by how tense he is

- he's not a bad person to sleep next to tbf, just like he might be kinda annoying that's it

Toga Himiko

- she has pink pj's and everything she's such a cutie (some have blood on them but whoops accident!)

- she sleeps with plushies (her room is adorable. search it up pleek‼️), changes the plushie every night so "every single one of them feels loved"

- she sleeps pretty healthily although on the low side 6-7 hrs prolly, she's told by compress "You're a growing girl, you need your sleep" or something similar when she wakes up too early

- she's more giggles in her sleep rather than anything, maybe whispers a name then goes teehehehe, she's pretty calm in her sleep honestly

- she has a pre-sleep routine and it's adorable, if it's in the broke era she steals face masks (specifically hello kitty ones), moisturizers, toners, face washes and skips back to the base with a smile on her face

- has 100% forced a couple of the league members to use the face masks

- has music blasting (for some reason I see her playing like a g6 and bopping her head while putting stuff on) at 10 pm, she 100% has been forced to turn it off bcs it woke everyone up

- she's such a cuddly person as well but in the best way possible, before sleeping though 100% there's gonna be gossiping or just yapping tg

overall my favorite !! silliest girl to ever exist I luv her

bonus katsuki

- bro sleeps like a Victorian child dying from the plague, waiting for a true loves kiss type shit you'd see him and go "wtf okay disney princess😟"

[impish-baby]

HEAR ME OUT!!

Demon king caretaker! You are a sacrifice from the people of your village to have another decade or peace and prosperity,but instead of sending the normal sacrifice how is a adult woman/man to became one or his "partners" they send a child!

The rest is with you;)

-💫

So rot, ferment, and decompose so all the things can grow - platonic! Yandere demon x child reader

Your head hurts and your knees are scraped and there's rope burns on your wrists-

You feel pitiful whining and sniffling, but it hurts! It hurts and you're upset, you're allowed to cry! Doesn't seem that way though when a woman from the village snarls at you to be quiet. They're just idiots, the whole lot of them..

They can't whisper to save their lives either, although they're obviously trying to. Hushed utterings echo around you as the council drags your already battered body through the forest, "the changeling child, we'll be rid off it and ensure our good tidings." with a stupid smug grin on their faces!

You're a plain old human like them! Just.. just because father said you weren't doesn't make it true. You wish the demon would just wipe out the entire village for a moment before quickly dismissing the thought. There's the farm... what would happen to the animals if the village was gone? There'd be no one to take care of them! You... you aren't going to see them again...are you? Nor pet a dog or or share a loaf of bread with the birds..

Before you know it, big fat tears are rolling down your face. What were once sniffles turning into broken sobs. The woman from before is about to snap at you again, but the village cheif shakes his head. It does not matter if you cry. No one is going to save you.

The alter used to be pretty, now it only feels like it's taunting you as you're made to kneel on its steps.

"Aeron," the chief's voice booms in the night, even the crickets silencing in the wake of it. "O Mighty Lord, we have once again come to offer a gift in exchange for your blessings. Please, heed us.." There's nothing. Not a sound, not a sign, nothing.

The chief clears his throat, about to speak again before suddenly choking and dropping to his knees clutching at his neck. Whoever was holding the rope tied around your wrists drops it as the rest of the counsel rushes to his side. You.. you think there's blood, but your attention is quickly drawn away when a hand cups your face.

"Oh, poor dear.." the man looks like an angel, despite the mangled wings. "How foolish of them, giving away something so precious.."

He hums, and before you know, you're lifted into his arms. You.. weren't so tired before, you're sure. All you can do now is lie weakly in his embrace, eyes drooping even as there's screams in the distance. An adoring smile graces his face as he gently pushes your head against his shoulder, hiding anything from view. "Sleep.. you'll be safe when you awaken, little one.."

[puzzled-pegasus]

Here's some silly little metaphors that I think the dragon tribes would use

SkyWings

“Don’t count your clutch before they hatch.” (Don't plan too much too soon)

“Gold is better than silver, but silver is better than nothing.” (If you can't do it perfectly, still try your best. Most dragons forget the second part.)

“‘Sorry’ can't suck the fire back in.” (The damage is done and now you're dead to me.)

“You been eating too much burnt meat or something?” (Are you nuts?)

“Stop all this smoke and use your fire.” (Stop rambling and get to the point already; or stop complaining and do something)

“Doesn't know his tail from his wings.” (Stupid or clumsy)

“You fly like a depressed pigeon.” (Slow flier)

“There's no fire in a rainstorm.” (Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get to work.)

“Nighttime is for the NightWings.” (What are you doing up? Go to sleep.)

SandWings

“She’s all rattle, and no strike.” (Like all bark no bite)

“A diamond in a pile of quartz.” (Like a needle in a haystack)

“You’re watering the cactus and ignoring the sapling.” (You’re focusing on the wrong thing; barking up the wrong tree)

“Everyone thinks the camel looks silly until the dry season comes.” (Don't listen to them, they don't know how unique and strong you are)

MudWings

“Crocodile tears.” (Fake crying in order to gain sympathy)

“You can only catch a trout if your mouth is open.” (Be open to new experiences)

“If the tree gives away too much, it ends up as a stump.” (Don't let people take advantage of your generosity)

SeaWings

“Happy as a clam in high water.” (Very happy)

“The flying fish feels like a fool when it sees an osprey.” (Don't compare yourself to others, run your own race.)

“Plenty of fish in the sea.” (Plenty more opportunities to come.)

“You’ve got ink in your eyes.” (You're blind to something important)

“Lobsters only die when they don't leave their shell.” (Keep yourself busy with new experiences and you'll life a long life)

NightWings

“Sleep is for the dead.” (Why waste your time sleeping when you could be productive)

“SeaWings know their fish and SandWings know their cactuses, but we NightWings know everything else.”(NightWing supremacy propaganda)

“Being nice to a deer never got one in my mouth.” (Other dragons don't matter, only your goals.)

“A prophecy always comes true.” (I told you so but more cryptic)

"You're counting the stars." (You're doing something tedious towards an unachievable goal)

RainWings

“Gray’s her favorite color.” (She's a huge bummer)

“A lemon is yellow on the outside, doesn't mean they're not sour.” (Referring to someone who is two faced or fake)

“I love honey, but I’d rather not get stung by the bees.” (I could do this, but it requires effort so I don't wanna)

“Nobody likes a rotten banana.” (Nobody likes a bummer/downer)

“Don't tie your tail in a knot” (don't get all upset)

“I have all my berries in a basket” (I have everything sorted out)

“You couldn't sneak up on a pineapple” (insult to one's camouflage skills, popular among children)

IceWings

“The seal who asks why the orca is chasing him is the first to get eaten.” (A favorite of parents telling their kids to shut up)

“Not the sharpest icicle on the roof” (kinda stupid or slow)

“Clear as polished ice” (i understand or see it very well)

“You're looking a little pink in the face” (you look sickly. IceWings can turn pink from eating too much krill; a symptom of malnutrition. This line can be applied to any illness.)

“Blue blood kills, red blood spills.” (Patriotic propaganda implying that IceWings win every fight

“The SkyWings toss their blue eyed hatchlings because they're worried they'll be as strong as an IceWing.” (More propaganda)

HiveWings

“Pretty is for the SilkWings.” (Vanity is stupid and impractical)

“If it buzzes like a bug and bites like a bug, it's a bug.” (Don't ignore the obvious)

“Clearsight works in mysterious ways.” (I don't know the answer to your question, now go away)

SilkWings

“It's not always good to know how the honey gets made.” (Don't stick your snout where it doesn't belong)

“She's got a couple of threads loose.” (Calling someone a little crazy, threads refers to weaving)

“The bee minds its flowers and the spider minds her silk, it's when they mix that bad things happen.” (Mind ya business)

LeafWings

“Flytraps only trap because the soil doesn't feed them.” (Dragons don't get angry out of nowhere)

“Looking like a leaf only hides you in the forest.” (Time and place)

“If a branch doesn't bend, it breaks.” (Be flexible)

“Even the corpse flower attracts the flies.” (Even someone who seems ugly to one dragon they can seem irresistible to another)

[bunny-jpeg]

kink-o-ween - day twenty-two

george russell - mirror sex

tags: pwp/smut, insecure!reader, mirror sex, praise, established relationship, loving!george, teasing, doggy style, pull out method

a/n: heyyy, kinkoween is being finished (yay), october was a rough month for me. but i am back and ready to post the rest of it! thank you for the support and patience, it has really benefited me both emotionally and creatively!

kink-o-ween master-list

"what do you mean, my love?" george looked at you. an expression of worry crossed his handsome features.

you shifted from one foot to another. it felt weird to say it out loud. you felt your cheeks grow hot. this felt stupid, but you swallowed down the feeling. you looked at him and said, "george, i'm not pretty."

his expression changed a little and he reached for you. his hands so kind on your face as he looked you in the eyes. he replied, "well, of course you're not pretty. you're beautiful. the most beautiful woman i've ever seen or met."

the mirror in your shared bedroom with george was full length. it was good to make sure everything looked as it should without cutting anything off. you looked in it almost every day before you left the apartment. now it took on a different meaning as george put you on your knees in front of it.

he was behind you. you were still in the sundress that showed y a healthy amount of cleavage. a nice display for your lover. and george loved to sight of you in it. an off-white with apples on it.

"so beautiful." he said softly, "so, so beautiful." why don't you see what i see?"

"my chicken wing arms. how round my face is." you started, but were silenced as george turned your head to kiss you passionately on the lips.

"i don't want to hear it." he said, "so what? you look amazing in every angle. you're perfect in every angle i see of you."

you blushed before george gave you another sweet kiss. he then started to unzip the dress. while it looked great on you, it would look even better on the floor.

"you're so pretty... no, no, beautiful." he said softly as he pulled the sleeves of the dress off of you shoulders. he kissed the back of the left one and you made a soft noise.

"george."

he only responded by placing his lips on your neck as he wrapped his strong arms around you. he was always your protector. your lover. there was no need to have insecurities when he was with you. he then said, "look at yourself." he cooed and it made you shiver with want.

you shifted a little on your knees before you helped george get you out of your dress. george loved you in a good sundress, but to see if off of you. naked before him. it made him do a double take.

"look at you." he said, "look how beautiful you are." he tilted your head to the side to press a tender kiss at your pulse point.

"i just see myself." you said he rubbed himself up against you. you knew his cock was straining against his expensive jeans.

"say something nice about yourself." he said, "be nice to yourself." he knew it was hard for you. so he had to get creative about ways to help you gain a bit of confidence.

"george."

"just one thing." he egged you on as he held you in his arms. you were near nude in front of the mirror. exposed to yourself and your lover.

you replied, "i guess. i like my smile." you felt heat in your core. you felt the throb between your legs.

your lover kissed your temple, "excellent." he said with love. he got you out of your undergarments. this his clothes. both of you naked in front of the mirror. george caught glimpses of your naked for. he held onto your hips for a moment before he kissed your neck and shoulders.

"honey." you said as you ended up on your elbows with your hips raised for him. it excited your lover. the driver was enamored by you, in all the ways he could be.

he tilted your hips a little more and he sank his cock into you. inch by inch as he eased into you. he cursed under his breath for a moment before he said, "i love you. every inch of you. you drive me insane. i never want anyone else in my life." the fire fueled in his stomach as he started to move against you.

"you flirt." you moaned as you held onto the edge of the rug under you. the piece was expensive enough that you weren't going to get rug burn by the end of it.

george chuckles and said with love, "it's not flirting when it's the truth."

you moaned, "i love you too." and shifted your hips a little to get more comfortable.

"say something else about yourself. i want to hear it." he groaned as he moved against you. he could see the pleasure across your face in the reflection of the mirror.

your flushed a little bit. you felt the sting of heat in your ears, "just one other thing?" you asked as he thrusted.

"just one more."

you looked in the mirror as you were fucked with steady thrusts. you glimpsed at yourself and licked your lips, "i love my eyes. they're not the most interesting, but they're pretty. and i like that i can always make you laugh."

george smiled before he leaned over you further and kissed your face in places he could reach, "see was that so bad? saying nice things about yourself." his tone was a little teasing and it made your core feel warm.

you shuddered and moaned a little louder as you felt immense pleasure. you were aroused by this. to see your boyfriend make love to you.

"i love you." you moaned.

george shakily exhaled, "i love you too, every chance i get. i always need to tell you how much you mean to me." his words made you moan, your pleasure coursed through your body and in your blood. you clutched tightly onto the rug as you kept your gaze on the mirror in front of you.

"look at yourself." he purred as he worked his cock into you. your wetness left him feeling hot all over. he glanced at the mirror. he licked his lips at the sight of you.

he wished you saw what he saw everyday. how stunning you were both in appearance and also personality. you were a fire in george's soul, the inferno in his blood as he continued to rock against you. praise flowed freely from his lips and his words warmed your soul.

"you're so beautiful." he said as he moved against you nice and slow. his thrusts had force behind them, but he was gentle with you. you moaned and george kissed your bare back.

"please, fuck, honey."

"you can't stop me praising you." he remarked, "i want you to feel like you're on top of the world. that no one could stop you." he said as moved a little faster.

you could feel the pleasure bubble in your core as the rush flowed through you. you could feel the intense feeling all over you. you moaned, "i love you." you had no other words.

"and i love you." he promised as he worked his hips against your sweet cunt. your pussy felt amazing around his cock. george looked in the mirror at the sight of you drenched in pleasure.

you looked at the two of you, caught the sight of your lover staring. even now he looked s handsome. he pushed hair out of his face and the two of you continued to make love on the floor. your knees ached a little from the position but at that moment you didn't care.

"my beautiful girl." he said with heat tinged in his voice as he felt his orgasm close.

you were the first to finish with your face against the rug. you held onto it and moaned loudly. george worked your hips as he came soon after. hr pulled out and finished on your back with a tight groan. he shuddered and his cock twitched when he saw his cum covering your back.

"so, do you believe me now? that i think you're beautiful." he panted heavily. as he leaned back on his heels for a moment to admire you. he wiped the sweat from his forehead. it wasn't long before he was up off the ground to get tissues to clean your back with.

you admitted, "yes... i believe you." and when george returned he kissed you on the cheek before he cleaned you up. you melted a little at the touches.

if anyone thought you were beautiful, it would be george. and as you got your underwear back on, you admired yourself in the mirror. and maybe george was right. you were beautiful. <3

[fireheartpages]

other plans | b.d.

bodhi durran x reader chapter one. series masterlist summary: everyone has their demons, you just chose to run from yours. straight to basgiath war college. and definitely not towards the grinning tall, dark, and handsome marked rider that seemed too kind to be in a hardened place like the rider's quadrant. word count: 2.1k ish notes: second person pov but i give the reader a nickname (that i stole from dirty dancing) and a last name bc i'm not using y/n and i want this to be readable. she/her pronouns used for reader. this has been stuck in my head and i thought i was gonna combust if i didn't get it on page. and it's all together hovering somewhere around 7k words so im gonna split it up and post it all within the next few days and then have the whole thing available on ao3! i haven't written fanfiction in at least a good six months, and i've never written for fourth wing, so bare with me a little--i tried my best. i have a chronic attachment to side characters with little to no page time. half of this was written while wine tipsy and all of it was proofread while wine drunk, so we die like men

Bodhi has never seen someone walk across the parapet so easily.

He's never seen someone make a dance out of it. As if it were a show, a production. Your feet are so confident, so sure with every step, every placement that you would make it to the next. It's pouring rain and windy as all hell, and yet you make the parapet look like a children's balance beam.

You land right in front of him, and by the time your eyes meet his, he's already decided that he needs to know everything he possibly can about you. The instant your focus lands on him, he's obsessed.

Garrick has other plans.

"Name?"

"Baby," you say, and Bodhi blinks. "Marho."

Garrick is downright gawking at you. "Baby?"

Something that sounds much more like a name and not what an infant is called slips out on a laugh, and Bodhi can't help but trace the lean lines of your neck. Holy shit. If he thought you were pretty before, it was dwarfed to the sound of your laugh. The sun had to fight for space when you smiled.

"Sorry. Childhood nickname, I forget I have another one sometimes."

"Did your parents nickname you after a hooker?" Garrick asks, jotting your name--the true one--on the roll.

"Did yours raise you to be a dick?" you ask, not missing a beat, and the boy's gaze snaps up to you. If Bodhi had been looking anywhere else, his would have too, but he hadn't taken his eyes off of you since the moment you stepped foot onto the parapet. He felt his brow shoot up, lips parting on a huff.

He bursts out laughing.

You don't move. Don't take your eyes from Garrick, from staring him down, until he tips his head in inclination and gives something that sounds like an apology. It's Bodhi's turn to be the subject of your scrutiny now, and as your eyes trace his shape, shifting with the weight of your gaze and his laugh, he senses more than sees the moment you note his rebellion relic. Your face doesn't shift, but it's as if a proverbial file is created and tucked away into the archive of your mind.

You didn't say anything else as you walk away from the two boys, but Bodhi tracks you as you go. Tracks your movements, as you weave through the crowd with a practiced grace, how your hair moves as you take the stairs down and out of his sight.

He's almost sorry to see you go. But he's determined to see you again.

Bodhi snatches the roll sheet from Garrick as parapet comes to an end, scanning to make sure he has the name correct. He marches up to Xaden, and only pausing for a moment to consider how stupid this is--he literally doesn't know a single thing about you--before throwing your name into the space between them.

"I want her in my section."

"Don't you have better things to do than flirt with children?" Xaden asks impassively.

"She's not a literal baby."

"I'm aware of that," he responds, sounding exasperated. "You're an Executive Officer, Bodhi. Do what you want."

Except Dain Aetos has other plans.

You made friends. You stand with the Sorrengail girl and another he didn't recognize, tucking loose strands of hair back into her coronet braid. What type of person fixed the hair of someone they'd just met? You, apparently.

You're in Second Wing. With Aetos and Sorrengial and the other girl. This is fine. Something about you didn't scream "secret rebel" the way wanted it too.

And then Xaden transfers your squad to Fourth Wing. He had sent Bodhi a glance as he put the squad in Flame section--not Tail--and Bodhi could see there was some sort of ulterior motive behind the decision. It did also mean you weren't under his direct chain of command. He couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing

Fraternization is frowned upon, not forbidden, after all.

Not that you would be fraternizing. After all.

But, challenging you would be a terrible idea. Terribly adverse, fatally cataclysmic, and ill-fated.

And all of those words mean the same thing.

He would stay clear, watch you from afar, and maybe, maybe work up the courage to talk to you outside of parapet. Possibly.

His confidence needed some serious shaping. Since when was he afraid to talk to someone? A pretty someone, to say the least. He was a gods damned dragon rider. He wasn't afraid to talk to you. He was just... hesitant.

Yeah. That. And he did not need a challenge to break the ice.

Emetterio has other ideas.

He calls your name, then Bodhi's, and Bodhi is pretty sure his heart stops in his chest.

You don't look frazzled or scared, just curious as you study him from head to toe. He guards himself as if you were an intruder in his mind, an Inntinnsic slipping in to spill all his secrets. Except you're an unbounded first year that hasn't even developed a signet, and instead that's just you. He's building up walls just to look at you. You and those bright, keen eyes.

Emetterio calls it, and you're off. Except neither of you move. You pace around, and it's a stand off. You cock your head, and Bodhi tries every trick in the book: the fakes out, glances quickly off to the side, purposefully stumbles--and you're unfazed. Completely and utterly unfazed.

He can't make the first move. He can't hit you--

Suddenly, his feet are out from under him, and he's staring at the ceiling, and you lunge, reaching to pin him to the floor. He reaches out and catches the elbow you throw, but before he can even make contact, you twist, sliding underneath him, and suddenly you're behind him.

You're fast. Really fucking fast. And suddenly, Bodhi has his work cut out for him.

You kick out again, going to the back of his knees, and he recognizes the move, thrusting his body forward to keep control and twisting before he lands, kipping up so you're eye-level again.

Your first catches his nose, and blood goes flying. He makes the mistake of bringing his hands up to cup his nose and it leaves his core exposed. You take the opportunity to land a knee in his gut, probably bruising a few ribs in there, and he doubles over, the wind having been knocked from him. Holy shit, he needs to get at least one hit in. This was getting embarrassing.

He swings blindly, and you dodge--but you don't grab his fist. And you had the perfect opportunity to. You were fast, and your reflexes were quick, but you didn't know how to end this. The realization crashes into him as you swing again. A lot of force, but no follow-though, giving him the perfect opportunity to deflect, pushing your fist and forcing the follow-through until you were swinging behind him with his hand around your wrist and then he was bringing you to him, one of his arms gripping one of yours across your neck, and the other twisting your other behind your back. Like this, your body was flush against his.

You struggle, kicking out, but it was all too easy for him to get your feet out from under you. You weren't small by any means, but Bodhi was bigger, and had a year of training over you. Your feet kicked out, and all he had to do was lean back to incapacitate you. You gave a frustrated grunt that so heavily affected him that he almost dropped you to make sure you were okay before he realized where he was and what he was doing.

"Finish her without making a fool of yourself, please," Cuir chimes in, probably sensing his hesitation and near-miss, and Bodhi sends an eye roll he hopes she can feel, since he doesn't have the brain space to say anything back, with your body pressed against his and the current task at hand.

He twists and take you both to the ground, pinning both your hands above your head, and taking a leg beneath his foot, balancing on a knee. You let out a sharp huff, and he's mesmerized by the way your nose scrunches up in determination. Your free leg goes to knee him, and he takes the hit, leaning into it before transferring your hands so they're both pinned between one of his, sliding one hand down your hip and to your thigh, holding it to the gourd before you can knee him again. He has a free knee to hold him up, but not without giving leverage to one of your legs. So he's pressed against you, hip to hip, face to face.

"Yield," he says, begs, because he can't hold this for long, and because if you figure out just how much you affect him, you'd win this thing in a matter of heartbeats.

"No," you grind out, thrashing. He's spread thin: his wingspan practically encompassing your body, giving you leverage to wear against him. He worries for a moment, a flash of the bruise he could leave on your thigh going through his mind, and two thoughts overtake him at once.

One, that he doesn't want to hurt you. And that while it may be inevitable with where you two stood, he wanted to try and eliminate the possibility as best he could.

Two, that he would leave bruises all up and down your thighs if he ever got the chance to get between them.

And the combination of the two of those thoughts loosened his grip on you, giving you the opportunity to roll away.

"I did not choose someone this negligent," Cuir snaps, and Bodhi panicks, and now you're pinned underneath him again, his front pressed to your backside, and it's a true plea when he breathes, "Yield."

"No!" You squirm, and fuck stop doing that--

"Get yourself together!" Cuir snaps, and Bodhi sucks in a sharp breath.

"That's enough," Emetterio says, pinning you with a look Bodhi would pick dragon fire over. "Know when to quit, Cadet Marho."

"No!" you yelp. "If this were a real fight, no one is calling the shots--"

"If this was a real fight, you'd be dead. I called it. Get off the mat," Emetterio snaps, and Bodhi scrambles off of you.

He offered you a hand that you send a pointed look at, and he can tell you're considering telling him where to shove it, but you take it anyway, and he walks you off the mat with a hand on your shoulder.

"Good match," Bodhi says, genuinely trying.

You open your mouth to respond, looking like you yourself could spit fire for a second, and Bodhi pities the dragon you end up bonded to for a moment.

"You're fast," he continues, before you can. "Quick reflexes, and you're strong."

"I had you," you throw at him, fiery and determined, and your gaze slips to his rebellion relic.

Oh. So that's what this is about.

Bodhi shakes his head, and the grin that had been blooming falters. "I can help," he says. "If you're struggling with sparring, I can help."

You suck in a breath.

"Or Imogen. Or Xaden. Or--" he stops, because, fuck, obviously you don't want to be near Marked ones--

"Thank you," you say, and the ghost of the smile he saw after the parapet makes a reappearance. "Thank you."

And with that, you turn and leave, heading back to your squad. Rhiannon is shaking her head at you, and Violet mumbles something that makes you laugh. Bodhi would bottle that sound if he could. What the hell was a counter signet for? His signet should be used for bottling the sound of your laugh--

"Do not finish that thought," Cuir chides. "Get a grip."

Bodhi grins, his hair falling over his temple as Garrick comes up and slaps him on the back, congratulations on a challenge well fought. He watches you take a swig from the water canteen, traces the lines of your jaw down to your shoulder until you hand it back, then traces the length of your wrist as you hand it--

"Pathetic." Cuir. "You haven't spoken."

"We kind of did," Bodhi says mentally. "I offered. I... tried."

"If you like her, try harder," she chides, and Bodhi sighs.

He doesn't like you, he barely knows you.

"Sure."

[schoenpepper]

Isekai'd Chronicles 2

Intro: Heartslabyul in an isekai AU.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, proofread by quillbot, almost falling in Riddle's part, mentions of poisoning in Trey's part, also a little suggestive on Trey's, just a bit

A/N: I'm happy the previous parts seem well liked. I'm currently working on the endings, but it might take a while, so please remain patient. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Your childhood friends leave a year earlier than you do for the magic school, but it's fine. That means you have one more year to prepare yourself before going to the battlefield, which may or may not be your deathbed. After all these years, you've finally become an accomplished heir! You even dabble in a little bit of swordsmanship in your spare time, and your father tells you you'll make for an excellent knight should you wish for it. Maybe you would have taken up his offer if you were still that same person from years ago, but now you want to face your fate head-on! In any case, Jamil and Kalim were still waiting for you in the magic school, and you just can't let them down. Your first day there is a mess, though.

It's a boarding school with dormitories for all sorts of races, and with one wrong turn after the other, you find yourself stepping off a cloud and plummeting to your doom. You're caught in the air by magic, safely levitated back up to the cloud by a red-headed angel who scolded you to Heaven and back for being reckless, as well as going to the angels' dormitories when you're very clearly human.

Congratulations! You've met Riddle Rosehearts, the heir of the Saintess of Heaven!

He collars you with his signature magic, telling you to deal with it because it was obviously your fault for trespassing. And it is, but you didn't even know how you got up there! Apologies leave your lips and you promise, you're very sincere. It was an honest mistake. You were just human after all. Surely, being the smart and awesome and cool angel he is, he wouldn't hold it against you? His forgiveness comes at the price of one (1) strawberry tart. The next day, you come by his dorm, on purpose this time, and tell him that you even brought nice lemon tea as proof that you were super duper really sorry. The collar comes off.

Now, you're not stupid. Riddle isn't good news because he's a capture target, you know? But your new friends, Ace and Deuce (who are in no way related to the original game), are also angels! And you see Riddle more often than you would have liked, but he's... not terrible, actually. He's a stickler for the rules, but you find that bribing him with sweets is an easy way to get a more lenient sentence. He's kind and smart, and you find yourself asking for his help for certain subjects when Jamil was way too busy looking after Kalim (and the rest of the human dormitory). When you start to think of him as a sort of friend, he confides that his upbringing was a bit too tough, even for Heaven, and that he's now scared of breaking the rules his mother had set in fear of losing it all.

And you sigh. You can be friends with him, probably. He's okay. Then, that's another male lead who might not kill you.

Your fingers gently trace the pure white feathers that grew on his wings. "Your wings are so beautiful, Riddle senpai." You praise happily, pulling off dirt and hair from little nooks and crannies.

"Um, thank you, I suppose." Your hand reaches the tip of his wing, brushing against a bent feather.

"Can I pull off the damaged feathers?"

Riddle nods, and you take it as your cue to snap off the pretty thing and hold it out next to him. "Can I keep it? It'll make for a cute necklace, I think."

Riddle pauses, his face turning as red as his hair. You feel like you've offended him somehow, but he nods again, looking away. "...It's yours, then, if you want it."

You really need a break. All you've done recently is study! And as you face the two sleeping idiots with their heads buried under books, you decide to go and raid the angel dormitory's kitchen. Anyway, if Riddle found out someone ate his pastries, you could just say that you were never there in the first place! Yes, yes, as slithery as a snake, invisible like a middle child.

You tiptoe your way down the stairs and thank the literal Heavens that the angels' dorm had a strict curfew, so no one can even catch you in the act.

Ha, sike.

The lights are on, and it smells like paradise, if paradise were in the form of chocolate chip cookies. There's a tall, green-haired angel with glasses and a cheesy 'Kiss the Cook' apron, and he gives you a mischievous grin and a cookie to buy your silence. You chew on the delicious treat with your eyes closed and think that it's just to die for. No, really, because the person who gave you the cookie is none other than Trey Clover. And in the otome game, the villain died via poisoning on this to-be-archbishop's route. So be a smart cookie, turn tail, and run. You should do that. Right. But when he mumbles something about there being chocolate mousse and banana pudding in the fridge that might also buy your silence, you agree to his terms and gorge yourself on desserts while seated on the counter, your legs swinging while you chat with him. He's stress baking, he says, because third-year assignments have been piling up, and you learn that he's learned how to bake and make treats from his grandfather, who'd learned how to do it from some human.

Your frequent study sessions with the ADeuce combo are punctuated with you sneaking off in the middle of the night and eating whatever Trey's making. You feel a little guilty, just enough to offer to help, and you feel so honored when he buys you your own little 'Kiss the Cook' apron as a gift. You two start to bake together sometimes after class, and he's very enjoyable company. He's really nice, and he makes unfunny dad jokes while he tells you about random things that happened in his day, and you rant his ear off about your troublesome duo as well as your thoughts of getting a cat. You think he's a really sweet guy, and it's not long before you take out the journal of otome game things you've been keeping since you were three, just to cross his name out like the other ones.

Trey is safe. He's a fun older brother kind of guy, responsible, and mature. He wouldn't poison you if he got himself a significant other. Then there's only ten more guys to avoid. Good job, you!

Trey laughs as another handful of flour makes its way onto his face, and he easily repays the favor by smearing cream onto yours.

"Stop! I give, I give!" You surrender in fits of giggles, now finding yourself in between him and the counter. The laughter dies down, but his signature smirk is there. "Don't you give up just a bit too easily? You started it, after all." He teases, caging you in with his arms.

"Please, it's a strategic retreat."

"Is that so?"

"Obviously."

There's a few seconds of silence as he stares into your eyes. You move slyly to swipe a dab of flour from the counter, gently tapping it onto his nose. "I won, senpai."

[purplekissinger]

Ten points to Hufflepuff

ah yes comedy. Muggleborn Hufflepuff reader. Please do not take this seriously because i sure don't

“Now it’s all done, Becky. And always after this, you know, you ain’t ever to love anybody but me, and you ain’t ever to marry anybody but me, ever never and forever. Will you?”

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Tom said lazily, waving his wand to put the scattered books into a neat little pile. Y/N  picked it up, smiled gratefully and hurried away, leaving Prewett on the floor with a rapidly growing bump on his forehead. "No running on the fifth floor”.

“Well, she just threw herself at my feet,” Prewett tried to justify. The pathetic fool had no idea that Y/N was allowed to throw herself at the feet of only one person. Y/N herself did not know that either (for now, of course). "Don't you want to, I don’t know, take points from Hufflepuff too? What do the rules say about being blind?.." and, before he could even finish this foolish, foolish sentence, he gasped and grabbed his head.

"Shall I escort you to the hospital wing or send you there?" Tom asked very politely.

*

"Fifteen points from Ravenclaw," he said sternly, pushing Fawley out of the restricted section of the library. Y/N  looked at them, confused. Glancing over his shoulder, Tom assured her, "L/N, Professor Merrythought warned me you had a pass. Good luck with your research".

"What are you up to, Riddle?" Fawley asked in an annoyed whisper as they left the library. "A pretty lady struggling with her essay, helping her is basically winning her heart..."

"What's the essay about, by the way?" Tom asked innocently. "Horcruxes, probably?"

"What in the world is that?.."

"And, alas, five more points from Ravenclaw. Woeful ignorance, I must say".

*

"Now what? Are you going to take points from your own House?" Malfoy huffed. They both stood on the landing, looking down. It was midnight. "The pattern is pretty clear, don’t you think? Leave her be, Riddle, for Merlin's sake. It's a pity to watch a Slytherin chase a badger."

"An interesting combination, indeed" Tom said thoughtfully. "As a fellow Slytherin, I can assure you, not a single point will be taken and no witnesses will be left. Now, could  you please stand a little to the left..."

*

"Tom, I have a bad feeling about this," you said timidly. "Think what you will, but all these cases... All of them have something to do with me. Terry Prewett says that he has had a lump for a month now. Malfoy fell down the stairs after he called me... well, that word, and does not remember anything."

"Bizzare," Tom replied.

"Wait, let me finish... This didn't add up until Fawley asked me out and fell off his broom later that evening. Maybe..." You looked around as if looking for someone, then turned to Tom, "No, that's just too stupid, I think I’ll tell that in your ear..."

And so you did. 

Tom was not thinking about your words, lost in the feeling of your breath tickling his cheek, the smell of your hair. He will do anything in his power to have more such moments in the future.

You pulled back and looked at him with a strange mix of emotions on your face. Fear? Hope? Reproach?

"Ten points to Hufflepuff! You're a smart one, Miss L/N," Tom chuckled. "What will you do with that knowledge?"

[jayhyunglover]

S for Studying or Sylus.

Inspired by his myth

Warmings: none just fluff , mentions of burning

Pt2 , Pt3

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How did I get here ? That's actually a good question. Let's say I got thrown or offered?

Whatever I was thrown there in a fucking chest.

Why am I here? To learn obviously . Learn about that creature hiding in this crypt full of treasures.

I got up dusting my clothes before adjusting my glasses over my nose. Jerome the small chameleon in my hair rested on top of my head to observe our surroundings. Taking an once over of the crypt before looking down at the chasm beneath my feet.

If I tripped I'll be dead for sure but I am gonna die in a few weeks anyway. I shrugged

"Well well well , what do we have here?" I heard a deep voice said the sound more like a rumble making me turn around to take in the figures behind me

"HOLY SHIT" I shouted before running to hide behind the chest I arrived in.

I wasn't a coward (well I didn't think so) but when I read about a Dragon from my late uncle's notes I was thinking about some I don't know 20ft tall reptile with wings and tail not a fucking *beautiful* man with wings and tail.

I peered up at him from where I was hiding taking in his silver hair, red blood eyes and dark scales. A red Gem was embedded in his chest pulsing light faintly

"I must say it's the first time someone reacts so strongly to my presence. I don't know if I should be flattered or offended" he spoke again his voice a rich deep baritone that sent tremors in my body.

"So little one" he leaned down resting a feet against the chest to look at me , crimson eyes hypnotizing "may I know who you are ? And how did you find you find your way in my lair?"

My mouth was wide open , my eyes probably bulging out of their sockets.

Why is he so beautiful and majestic and Gosh that blood red gem glinting against his chest. Was it his heart? I had so many questions but found myself asking the most stupid one.

"Are dragon always that beautiful?"

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion before he threw his head back and laugh

Laugh? Why is he laughing did I say something funny ?

"My , my , my , you're surely something Little human" he pushed the chest with his feet before crouching down in front of me his scorpion like tail flicking to brush against my face making Jerome shift and hid deeper in my hair the sight earning a surprised look from him.

"You're hiding a lizard in your hair?" He asked in disbelief

"Its my friend his name is Jerome" I corrected.

"Interesting" he murmured more to himself than me before feeling his tail graze my cheek. It was cold and sharp .

"Does it inject Venom?" I found myself blurting out before touching the pointed tip earning a slight hiss from him.

Shit I guess I shouldn't touch it so casually

"Sorry" I murmured before quickly getting up making him do that as well.

Why is he actually so huge ?

"You haven't replied to my question yet" he reminded me before feeling his tail wraps around me to bring me closer and yet again I found myself touching it utterly fascinated.

"Do you have a death wish or just stupid?" He asked seemingly baffled by my shameless actions

"I actually do have one . Can I examine it ? And why is it smooth ?" My fingers traced over it making him automatically release me , his breath deepening , the tip of his ear reddening??

No its probably a trick of the light.

Just who was this woman and what does she want?

When he heard this ruckus earlier Sylus excepted to find some thieves trying foolishly to steal him or hunters sent to end him not a woman who didn't know how to keep her hands to herself and couldn't stop eyeing him like he was the treasure she came looking for.

Everything about her was off putting from those neat glasses to the small lizard hiding in her locks. She just wasn't what he faced usually and it grated at his nerves.

"Your eyes are so pretty" she peered up at him leaning in to take a closer look , the gesture making him take a step back

Is he scared of me? I tilted my head in disbelief

"Who are you?" He asked again

She didn't seem to mean any harm. Well his blood pressure couldn't say the same but that was another problem to deal with.

"Oh I didn't introduce myself you can call me Athena but I am nothing like the wise Goddess" I chuckled "and you?"

She was seriously asking for his name . Didn't she know he could kill her in an instant ?

Yet he found himself responding anyway

"Sylus"

"Sylus? Its oddly fitting" I murmured before sauntering towards him to take a closer look at his appearance under his watchful gaze.

"You still haven't told why are you here human"

"To learn" I replied eyes flickering up at him

"To learn?" He repeated voice tinged with disbelief.

Who the hell in their right mind would come in a dragon's lair to learn?

"About you , the dragonic specie" I precised before taking out my notebook to jot down thoughts and observations.

Strange he couldn't help but thought. Wasn't she aware of how dangerous he was?

"So you live here?" I asked walking deeper in the crypt towards the mountain of cold Coins and treasure before sitting down and laying on it.

.

Sylus just watch her from afar and a distant part of him almost found her cute

No way she might be an hunter in disguise trying to charm him to get him to lower his guard-

"How the hell you manage to sleep there?" She exclaimed before letting out a wince .

"Guess it's not fit for your graceful body" he commented before walking over his clawed hands pulling her up on her feet

He touched me . Great graciousness he touched me.

"Your hands are so big" I remarked

They could easily snap my neck in two.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Is that a compliment or an insult?" He asked voice almost teasing

"More like an observation" I retorted reaching out to touch it

Why is she so intent on touching him?

But even as his mind protested he let her touch him this time. Her touch was tender almost reverent as if she was afraid of breaking him while he was the one who could easily crush her.

"Aren't you going to run away ? Try to escape ?" He asked crimson gaze fixed on her face gauging her reactions

She couldn't possibly stay here with him and learn right?

"Why would I try to escape? I came here for a purpose" I asked eyebrow knitting up in confusion before looking up at him.

He scoffed red eyes narrowing at her before stepping closer.

"You're just a mere human with no defense . Aren't you scared I'll eat you or burn you alive?" He murmured lips dangerously close to her ear.

"Burn ??? Wait how do you spit fire Exactly? Do you just combust dioxygene or is there a gland involved"

Here she was again with those damn questions.

He groaned the sound making me instantly shut up.

Maybe I should slow down on the questioning if want to learn something before he make a meal out of me.

Sylus was glad she finally closed those pretty lips shut before he went insane.

"If you are determined to stay here , then stay out of my sight" he grumbled before walking away

Why the sudden switch up ? And how the fuck I am going to learn about him if "I stay out of his sight"

I was tempted to follow him and pester him more with questions but decided against it expanding my lifespan to one more day.

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A/N: this is an idea I got from Sylus's myth and i am gonna make it a series i hope you will like it . And I am sorry if Sylus is a bit OOC and also english isn't my first language

Tags : @jinwoosbabyboo @chibichibi-mia @loveanddeepthroat @poisonf0rest @plutotheplum @lalunanymph-main @chaos-in-deepspace @zaynessnowflake

[dabislittlemouse]

Hello! I just discovered your page and I love your writing style.

I had this idea in my head for while now.

You know how Dabi went and visit Hawks’ mom for information about him? Well, what if he had a lovable little sister who was clueless about who Dabi is. She thought “oh, he is friends with my big brother there is no harm talking with him.”

Dabi flirts with her a good bit and Hawks comes home like “get away from my cute little sister!” But he does it around about way.

tainted angel 🪽 (pt.1)

PART 2 // PART 3// THE COMPLETE MASTERLIST divider by @cafekitsune

ෆ Pairing: DABI X HAWKS’ LITTLE SISTER

ෆ cw: Dabi being a flirt and a pervert, corruption kink, smut and dubcon in the next chapters so this one is mostly safe.

ෆ Before you read further: this is written entirely on Dabi’s POV. There are specific descriptions for Hawks’ sister such as hair color, eye color, skin, wings etc. and she is a female, age 20-21.

ෆ A/N: I love this request so much, it had my writing flowing so naturally and my motivation reached the sky. I hope you like this!

Another boring day of relentlessly hunting down for information. Walking in the empty alleyway, the weather’s getting bitter, clouds darkening the sky as rain is starting to fall, plinking against my black leather jacket. Man, I fucking hate rain. Feels uncomfortable on my skin, not to mention it weakens my quirk. But I have to finish this job. Once I start something today, I never leave it for tomorrow, cause we never know what tomorrow could bring. Unexpected things are not my forte, I prefer to plan my steps way ahead, I look closely at every clue and untangle any information that I see beneficial. Always one step ahead of my enemies, nothing goes away without catching my eye. No matter how small it is.

No matter how fast it is.

Yes, Hawks, the fastest hero out there, too fast for his own good. I chuckle under my breath, rolling my eyes at the thought of the traitorous pro hero. He’s been pretty useful so far, proven himself loyal to the cause. But something doesn’t sit right with me, hence the reason why I’m out there searchin’ for more information. Maybe it’s his sickening hero charm, makes me wanna vomit. Maybe it’s the fake smile he puts on that stupid face, who knows.. a traitor will always be a traitor. If he went as far as to betray the heroes, I won’t be surprised if he turns his back on us villains again.

Though if that happens, he will be incinerated before he even knows it. Burnt to ashes, those red feathers set ablaze by my own scorching flames. My hand itches at the thought of showing him his place, though I gotta stick with the plan and use him for all his worth.

Bzzz.

The sound of my burner phone grabs my attention. Probably one of my men who I’ve sent to stalk and watch over Hawks. Or maybe Twice, wanting to fuck around because he is lonely. Tch, I’m not in the mood either way.

“This better be important..” I rasp under my breath. Lately my patience’s been thin. Don’t know why.

“Sir, we have found something”

It was indeed one of the men I hired. Yeah, about time they finally made themselves useful. I hum in response, letting the man continue.

“The woman we found, she might be related to Hawks. According to the clues we’ve been gathering, it’s highly possible she could be his mother. If not his mother, then for sure someone from his family. We have found her address, all we need is your order so we can break in and get her for you, sir” the man explained.

“Mm there’s no need. I’ll pay the lady a visit myself” I smirk, knowing that she will be more intimidated by my grotesque sight only and start spilling everything. After the men give me her address, I waste no time to go there. Fortunately not too far from where I am right now.

Something weird forms in my chest. Not sure why, but I feel like I’m gonna have fun~

******

The picture I got sent was of a woman who seemed to be in her 40s, pale skin and exhausted eyes, big fluffy light brown hair, almost drained out of life. This is beyond weird, the mother of a pro hero who looked like she had lost her will to live? Ain’t no way. Supposedly the families of pro heroes usually live their best life.

A thought runs through my head and I chuckle. Damn, I should know by now, the families of pro heroes are those who in fact suffer the most.

Memorising the woman’s face and the address, I am now right in front of her house. It’s a small normal house, nothing fancy or special about it whatsoever. The rain has long stopped. I stop in front of her door, before giving it a few slow knocks. Nobody opens the door. I knock once again, if this door isn’t opened soon I’m gonna have to-

“Coming!! Just a second!!” A chirpy voice was heard, footsteps getting faster towards the door. This voice sounded lively, not the voice I could’ve imagined for the woman I’m looking for.

As the door opened, the sight in front of me leaves me speechless. My eyes widen a bit, taking in at person in front of me.

It’s a girl. Not the old woman in picture, this is a young pretty thing. Could be at her twenties, not sure. As she opens the door wider, she fixes her disheveled hair, removing those golden locks off her face while her caramel eyes fixed on mine, blinking in confusion with those pretty lashes. And her pjs, almost too revealing. Freckles cover her cheeks, her skin looks soft. It doesn’t take long for me to notice a pair of angelic white wings behind her.

“Umm hello, how can I help you with?” she asks, her voice meek and shy as she looks up at me under her lashes.

Fuck, it’s like the whole world stopped the moment I laid eyes her pretty face. I need to focus.

“Sorry for the bother, dollface” I manage to bring a friendly smile on my face but my raspy voice always betrays me. “I am looking for Hawks. I’m a friend of his..”

“Oh, Hawks? I’m sorry but my brother is not here at the moment. Maybe he is at his agency, did you check there?” she smiles back.

Before I find myself wondering why she is not scared by my appearance, my mind focuses on that one simple word: brother. She called Hawks her brother, so that means..

“Wait, don’t tell me that guy kept such a pretty thing like you hidden from me? You’re his sister?” I smirk, leaning on the doorstep, still stunned by the fact that the pro hero had a little sister.

“O-Oh yeah, I’m Takami Y/N!” she blushes, and my smirk grows wider knowing that such simple interaction already got me half of the information. That Hawks has a sister, and his last name is Takami.

“He doesn’t prefer to talk much about us in public” she continues. “It’s best for our safety”

Poor naive little thing. Got no clue in the world who I am, thinking I’m a friend. Is this how the hero looks over his family?

“Well well, that guy is full of surprises. You look a lot like him to be honest, that pretty hair of yours and those wings. A real angel aren’t cha?”

Her face is a blushing mess, all she can do is squirm in front of me and smile awkwardly. I came here for other purposes but damn it.. this pretty angel got me fucking hooked already. So petite, so innocent, a ray of sunshine, if I touch her with my destructive bloody hands I could probably defile her.

This thought gives me a sick twisted feeling in my chest, my eyes flaring in excitement.

“I-If you’d like I can invite you over for some tea? I can call my brother to come in the meantime. It’s only me and my mom here” she shyly says, breaking eye contact. I may be delusional, I am not the most handsome motherfucker out there I know, but she is acting like she saw her school crush. But I have to admit, I do have a sort of charm too. Call it villain charm if you will.

“Sure thing”. Making it easier for me princess, but also harder to focus on my main goal when you’re such beautiful distraction.

As my eyes wander around the living room, she hurries to the kitchen to prepare the tea. Enough time for me to find the lady in question. Her room was not hard to find, she was sitting on her bed. Simply entering and closing the door, I reach to her fast, putting a hand on her mouth.

“Don’t make a single sound or I will burn your sweet daughter to ashes” I threaten, showing her the blue flames flickering on my fingers. She nods, sweating and eyes widened in panic.

“Now..” I let her go while she stands there frozen in fear. “I’ll ask you some questions regarding to your son… and you’ll answer honestly. And trust me, I can tell when someone’s lying, so do not test me woman” I say sternly, all she does is whimper.

****

“Hey I thought you left?”

I find the pretty angel sitting on the couch, a confused look on her face.

“Ah m’sorry doll, had to use the bathroom. Also had a little chat with your mother, been a long time since I last saw her..”

It takes a lot for me to not burst into laughter, acting as if I’ve been Keigo’s childhood friend or something.

Keigo. Keigo Takami. This was his full name according to that woman. She didn’t hesitate to give me all the essential information, afraid I’d burn this place down and harm her precious daughter. Apparently that birdbrain’s been taken from the HSPC since a kid, trained to be a professional hero. And most importantly, his dad was a criminal, murdered someone back then.

Tch, the son of a criminal becoming a hero.

And the son of a hero becoming a criminal.

What a world.

I sit down on the couch, almost too close to his sister. My eyes hungrily take on the sight of her soft plush thighs, her chest, her plump lips.

“Tell me more about yourself dollface” I say, totally ignoring the tea and playing with some of her hair. “Y’gonna be a hero like your brother?”

“Ah none of the sort. I’d rather not get myself into heroic stuff” she giggles, and that sound has my jeans tighten uncomfortably. It’s taking everything in me to not pounce on her right here right now, stripping her off everything and making her scream for me. Just imagine the sight her brother would come across to if he suddenly shows up, her little sister all naked and bruised, used for my own sick pleasure..

Such an angelic being, I have the need to fucking break her and shape her however I see fit. A man like me could never be deserving of her.

“You don’t want to be a hero? How come? Wouldn’t you like to save people, princess? To fight against big scary villains who threaten the innocent out there..”

“I don’t think that’s a job for me. I can still help people without being a hero. And I don’t think I’d be strong or brave enough to go against villains, you know?” she says, playing with the hem of her shirt.

“Awn, poor thing, y’scared from villains?” I grin, placing my scarred hand on her knee, feeling her smooth skin. She squirms, probably by the warmth of it. The way she bites her lower lip nervously has my cock throbbing in my pants. Little does she know she’s in the presence of one of the most dangerous villains in Japan.

“Y’think they gonna hurt you? Maybe they will, if they see you so cute and vulnerable out there, they won’t hesitate to hunt ya down”. My firm grip on her knee has her swallowing, nodding silently.

“So I hope your brother protects you enough” I chuckle. “Cause see, if I was a villain? Man, I’d do anything to kidnap you and make you mine”

Her eyes widen, she laughs nervously, thinking this was some joke. Far from it.

“But you’re no villain right? You’re just my brother’s friend?” she murmurs, feeling tense. Her body language is so easy to read.

“Yes baby, I’m only his friend. My appearance might creep ya out but I promise I’m safe”

She seems to calm down a little. Completely unaware of what I could be capable of.

“Your appearance is not creepy by the way” she says. “I’d say it’s more.. unique. In a good way. I’ve never seen someone who looks like you”

I raise my eyebrows. Her words have me taken aback. For the longest time all I’ve gotten were stares filled with fear or disgust, couldn’t blame them. But this was a new thing, I feel something strange in my chest at her comment. Fuck, I don’t like this. I can’t seem to find any good comeback now, not when she’s staring at me so longingly. I’d rather have her scared, calling me an ugly monster, rather than this.

“Cute little thing wants to get on my good side huh? Wanna charm me, get me hooked with those sweet words? Y’need to be careful~” I say teasingly, reaching to grab her chin and have her look at me. I stare at her caramel eyes, wondering how they’d look full of tears.

“N-No it’s just the truth, I’m not lying” she shakes her head. “If I found you scary I wouldn’t have let you come inside”

“Come inside?” I raise an eyebrow. “Y’need to be more specific..or this might get another meaning”

She looks confused, not getting it at first, but the moment she sees the perverse smile on my face, her cheeks flush in embarrassment.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that pervert! I meant come inside my house!”

I let out a laugh, probably the only genuine laugh I had after such a long time. God, she’s so cute and fun to mess with. Such gem that Hawks kept hidden from me. Well, not anymore.

After some time chatting with my angel, the door bursts open. I turn around, smirking at the familiar face.

“Look who decided to show up!” I stand up, opening my arms as if waiting to receive a hug from him. ��The winged hero. I was looking for you. I had the pleasure of meeting your family, y’never told me you had a little sister? Such pretty thing you never mentioned her to anyone, I thought we were close friends Keigo..”

The expression on his face is entertaining, he looks beyond shocked. Probably didn’t expect for me to call him by his real name. Or when his sister comes after me, too close, a bright charming smile on her face.

“Welcome home! I invited Dabi inside to wait for you, couldn’t let him out in the pouring rain-”

“Y/N get back in your room. Now” The hero’s voice is stern, serious, and the poor girl’s smile fades off her face. His piercing gaze never leaving mine. I’m not intimidated at the slightest, it’s mostly amusing.

“But Kei-”

“Now” he repeats. As she prepares to turn around and leave, I reach to grab her hand, not letting her go.

“Very overprotective aren’t cha, big brother?” I smirk, bringing his sister closer to me, wrapping my hands around her waist. Hawks looks like he is ready to kill me, anger visible in his golden eyes now that I’m playing around with his little sister, probably his weakest spot that he tried to keep hidden from the world.

“Me and her already clicked. She’s very fun to have around, we chatted a lot when you weren’t here didn’t we angel?” I turn to her, all she does is blush and nod shyly. I tap my fingers around her small waist, making her squirm. It takes everything in me to not dig my fingers on that soft skin and leave bruises. Then I reach for her white wings, and apparently she is very sensitive there. The way those wings flutter and she tries to break free from my grip, whining for me to stop. And all of this in front of her brother.

“Very nice of you to treat my friend this way” Hawks says, seems like he already caught up what’s going on. He’s playing it cool, so I won’t hurt his family. “Dabi, could you come outside now? We have stuff to discuss.”

I do not protest further, there’ll be enough time to stay with my angel now that I already know where she lives and where she studies. My new little toy.

“See ya later, dollface” I pinch her cheek, before sliding my hand across her jawline. My thumb touching her lower lip slightly, and the softest gasp leaves her pretty mouth.

“Bye Dabi..” she whispers, almost hypnotised by my touch. My name rolling off her tongue is the sweetest melody my ears could ever hear.

Can’t wait to come back for you, sweetheart

Tags: @mostlyheinous @dabislittlebeaniebaby @shadowsandshapes @dabihawksluva @mossy-opal @daniidil @holydayaria @syrenkitsune @arinexeisnotworking @cherrykisssess @doumadono @spltbtch @sukunas-bitxh @awalkingshame @bubblegumsblog @highbats69

[reidingandwriting]

latched on > keigo takami/hawks (mha)

Word Count: 1.3k

Ship: Sub!Keigo Takami (Hawks) x Dom!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut (very loose term), mentions of abuse from the hero commission, mentions of call girls (if you squint), mention of violence (also if you squint), allusion to sub drop

A/N: Baby’s first attempt at writing some attempt at smut, I may try and do a full smut with sub!hawks later, I love my whimpering baby bird <3

how did he go from feeling so, so good to so, so stupid in the matter of minutes?

he was in bliss not even five minutes ago, whining out mixes of your name and high keens of mommy! as you worked him through another orgasm.

bottoming was new for keigo. he had never had anyone he trusted enough to tell about his desires, with the commissions grip on him. his list of ‘approved partners’ who were vetted by the commission and could (would) be… handled properly if they were to spill any details about the number two pro hero. keigo rarely ever called them, never satisfied from the basic hookups they provided, wanting so much more from his partner that he was terrified to vocalize. hero work was so demanding, he wanted to turn his mind off and just. let someone else make the decisions for him. but that required trust, and he never had that with anyone. and then he met you.

you were a PA at his agency, and as time passed, keigo found himself captivated by you. drawn to the way you treated him as if he was any other civilian. like yeah, you recognized him as a hero and what he did. you knew your work hours would be hectic due to his hours, yet you never complained. never seemed to mind really, always greeting him with a soft smile and some form of jab about him ‘messing up your beauty sleep’. which would turn into flirty banter, little jokes, and during late nights, sleepy giggles and conversations keigo would remember forever.

the shift happened when you were a plus one to a gala with him.

‘i’m not your boss right now, stop looking so tense,’ keigo teased as he rested a comforting hand on your shoulder. ‘just think of me as your smoking hot arm candy’ you laughed at his comment and rolled your eyes.

‘okay, pretty bird’ you cooed to the hero and you bit back a grin at the way his wings puffed up from the nickname. your hand met his cheek, and you turned his head to face you. golden eyes seemed to be darker, pupils dilated as he focused on the sparkling necklace you wore. ‘if only my arm candy would pay attention to me’ you pouted and keigo’s gaze met yours.

‘how could i look away?’

from there, there had been an obvious shift in your relationship with the hero. casual touches turned into lingering, intentional touches. behind the safety of his office doors, “hawks” was occasionally replaced by ‘pretty boy/bird’ and keigo had to keep from whining every time the teasing nickname left your upturned lips.

he wasn’t sure exactly what shifted that got keigo in this situation. but he found himself pinned under you, writhing under your touch. gentle touches, firm grabs. feather light touches that left him begging for more, hard grips that had him squirming and thrashing, threats of tying him down only exciting him more.

he was beautiful, you kept telling him. which he heard from fans every day, he knew he was attractive. but hearing it from you? a whole other feeling. whimpering each time ‘look so pretty, birdie’ or ‘my beautiful boy, gonna cry for me?’ and ‘my good boy, so good for me’ slipped from your lips. his breaking point? your fingers gently lifting his chin up so his teary gaze met yours, peppering his face with kisses and whispering in his ear ‘wanna see you cum, songbird. deserve it, pretty boy, i’ll take care of you. just let go’

and god did he let go. strings of white spurted from his cock, over your hands, over his stomach, but keigo was too spent to care. he was truly fucked Stupid, basking from your coos as you talked him down, your hands petting him as he calmed down. suddenly, there was a shift in the mattress and keigo couldn’t stop himself from grabbing your arm, panic filling his body as he begged you not to leave him, he’ll be good, please stay, please let him stay, and he felt his grip on you tighten. and there’s where he made his biggest mistake. he couldn’t let go.

“it’s okay, birdie. i’ll be right back, just gonna get something to clean you up.” you soothed and you frowned lightly as his grip didn’t relent. “hawks?”

keigo flinched from the use of his hero name, missing the nicknames that you called him just a minute ago. “i-i’m sorry. ‘m so sorry, i can’t-“ keigo started to hyperventilate and you were on him in a second, by his side and pulling him closer to you. keigo curled into your body, face buried in the crook of your neck, and tears burned in his eyes. moments of silence passed until it dawned on you.

“you can’t let go, can you, bub?” you asked and keigo shook his head.

“it, it will stop in a little bit. i just… i thought you were leaving me and. i panicked, i lost control. ‘m so sorry,” keigo whispered and you carded your fingers through his messy hair, smiling as you felt the tension start to leave his body.

“not going anywhere, promise. just wanted to get you a washcloth so we could clean you up a little bit. but i can wait. however long you need, love.” you pressed a kiss to keigo’s head, humming as you slowly rocked him. you figured this could happen, but you thought it was such a small chance, you didn’t really prepare for it. but it was hawks. your hawks, your birdie. you could adapt. you’d take care of him.

a while later, keigo’s grip started to release, and as soon as he was able, keigo pulled his hand away. you tutted at him and took his hand in yours, and you started to massage the hand that had been gripping your arm. keigo found himself staring at the spot he had grasped you, hurt you he’s sure, and you called his name.

“are you okay now?” keigo blinked at the question. “feel up for a shower to clean up?”

“you.. you’re worried about me still? i hurt you.”

“and i just spent god knows how long overstimulating you. probably a little painful, even if it felt good.” you tilted keigo’s head up and pressed a lingering kiss to his plush lips. “i told you, hawks. i care about you, i’m here to take care of you. as long as you’ll let me.” it was your turn to blush, your cheeks burning but you kept keigo’s gaze.

“keigo.” he found himself whispering. “name’s keigo.” you mouthed his name, whispered it to yourself and the prettiest shade of pink covered keigo’s cheeks. “if it’s not gonna be any of your little nicknames, i.. i’d prefer keigo outside of work.”

“well, keigo,” you smiled as you pulled his hand to your lips, kissing over every knuckle. “why don’t we get you cleaned up? then we can come back to bed, order some takeout for dinner? i can make breakfast for us in the morning,” you offered and keigo felt his heart flip in his chest at your offer.

“that sounds perfect.”

an hour later, you were cuddled in bed, keigo on his stomach, head on your stomach as his wing draped over you. his breath hit your stomach, soft puffs leaving his lips as he slept peacefully. you combed through his damp hair, occasionally running your hand down between his shoulder blades just to see his wings flutter and his breathing shake a little. a small smile graced his lips as he slept and you let your eyes close, a matching smile on your lips as you dozed off into the best sleep of your life. you could get used to this…

[delusional-mushroom]

Platonic Hazbin Hotel x Autism creature reader ii

Apparently you all like this? Sorry about the long wait, school’s been kicking my ass lately.

Anyway, here’s part 2, Bon appétit

Part i | Part ii

You fell.

It hurt. It hurt a lot.

All you remember was waking up to Speckle slithering on your face and- HOLY CRAP YOUR WING SHOULD NOT BEND LIKE THAT

After about 10 minutes of wallowing in your pain, you slowly got up.

Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow

You took a moment to take in the situation. Your clothes, as well as the ground beneath you, we’re stained in gold. It was hard to miss the golden blood trailing behind you too.

There was also a crater in the ground where you fell.

You see the Hazbin hotel in the distance and with the obvious attitude of “What could go wrong?” You sauntered towards the looming building

Speckle took over sight duty on the way tho. The Bright sign posts and the occasional dumpster fires rubbing salt on the metaphorical wound of your approaching melt down.

When you finally got there, you uncovered your eyes and stood outside for a few minutes before finally gathering up the courage to knock on the door.

Luckily for you, it’s Charlie who opens the door.

You exchange awkward greetings, Charlie beating around the bush of asking you the casual question of you know, why the fuck you’re in hell?

After a few seconds of staring at each other, you nervously fiddle with your thumbs

“So Uhm, I uh, fell, I guess.”

After the initial shock, concern, and confusion, Charlie welcomed you with open arms

At first, the hotel residents didn’t know what to make of you

Vaggie was pretty neutral with you, you seemed alright enough in heaven and if you weren’t gonna make a fuss neither would she.

That is, until she found you making yourself a cup of cocoa at two in the morning.

“Had a nightmare,” you mumbled when she questioned you, hand stretched towards you as if she held her spear to you throat. Did she sleep with the thing? Who knows.

She dropped her arm and took in your disheveled appearance. That seemed to check out. It seemed tonight wasn’t good for you either. “What about you?” She heard you ask drowsily.

“Nightmare.” She said. It was cold and blunt as she turned on the kettle and carelessly threw a teabag inside of a mug. ‘Best girlfriend ever’ it read in black. A gift from charlie, she smiled at the thought.

“Wanna talk about it?” You tested. This situation was more awkward than you wanted to deal with. At least the noise of the kettle in the background filled up the silence.

Vaggie turned to you, the ghost of a smile lingering on her face. Maybe tonight wasn’t so bad.

And since then you and her talked about what was bothering you. Or not. Sometimes you just sit next to each other, a cup of cocoa in both of your hands and enjoy each other’s company.

Angel found you funny

Fat nuggets 🤝 you.

Whenever Angel has to go to the studio, he leaves Fat Nuggets with you.

Whether its for you to watch the pig, or the pig to watch you, well… thats up to you.

He probably won’t open up to you about Valentino

But if he does, the stupid bald moth asshole can expect a lot of passive aggressive [special interest] themed notes that come seemingly nowhere.

Sir Pentious didn’t know what to make of you at first.

To him, you were some random child that showed up one day and could go from staring into someones soul for minutes on end without blinking, to looking like you were on the brink of tears if you hands brushed against a nope texture.

Eventually though, you ask about his inventions.

Bro had a whole “your asking about my theories? I’ve waited years for someone to ask me about my theories!” Moment.

(If you get that reference I love you)

You become hyper-fixation buddies.

You and Nifty don’t get along too well…

“YOU LEAVE THE ROACHES ALONE!” You shriek, holding two bugs high above you hear as the short little menace tries to get to them, knife brandished.

“NEVER!” She laughed back a crazed look in her eye.

…that wasn’t fun. Rest in piece Sir Bob and dame Jane.

Whenever you zone out in front of Husk, he pours a glass of apple juice and gently places it in front of you, eyeing you every now and then, a concerned look in his eyes.

Alastor finds you amusing.

He tried making a deal with you on your first day.

Now Vaggie won’t let him within a 3 meter radius of you.

When you meet Lucifer, he takes one look at you, Speckle coiled around your neck and a bottle of apple juice in your hands and just immediately goes “🫠”

He’s your father now. There’s no getting out of it. Why would even you want to tho?

Hyper-fixation buddy #2

You both rant about your special interests to each other

Be prepared to be bombarded with rubber ducks.

Meanwhile, in heaven…

Everyone: wHeRe iS tHe cHiLd?

[loverslantern]

The Hunter and The Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: The group investigates the case of a maniacal ghost inhabiting a long abandoned Texas farmhouse known as `Hell House'. They believe the ghost is the spirit of a deceased depression-era farmer who killed his family, but they soon realise it is something far more powerful.

Warnings: Cannon violence, mentions of suicide and sh within the cannon story, a guy being a little icky.

Credit: While I’ve had the idea for a certain part of this story for a while i’m still going to give credit to @arjwrites for it because she wrote something pretty darn similar, even more than just pretty darn so yes check their work out and stuff.

Tag List: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra @fablesrose @ada--44 @bonkydarnes @star-yawnznn @crazyunsexycool @onlyangel-444 @seninjakitey @mystic-mara @mxltifxndom @stilesxreid @chaotic-luvrs @tiggytaylor @deanwasscaredbyacat @imaginexred

Word Count: 11,341

Hell House

(Masterlist, Previous Ch, Next Ch, Outfit Board)

The Impala cruises down the interstate, yellows, and browns passing by as the hot Texas sun beams through the opened windows. Hair blowing back in the wind and tickling my skin, my sunglasses perched on my nose as I nod along to the Blue Öyster Cult song that played quietly on the radio. If Sam wasn’t peacefully sleeping, head leaning far back against his seat and mouth hanging open I’d ask Dean to make the song louder—it was a really good song though I prefer (Don’t Fear) The Reaper over Fire of Unknown Origin any day.

Dean stretches an arm back, leaning over the seat to grab hold of a stray plastic spoon left on the seat beside me. He places the spoon in Sam’s open mouth. He chuckles to himself as he thumbs through his pocket for his phone, flipping it open and taking a photo. I scuff and roll my eyes at the sight as my hand finds its way into my bag where I pull out my digital camera, “Do a pose,” I whisper to Dean. He checks the empty road in front of him, slowing the car significantly before half turning and spilling widely with a thumbs up, I try not to laugh as I take the picture. I nod to him in confirmation that I got it, he puts his attention back on the road, putting more pressure on the gas pedal, glimpsing at Sam to make sure he’s still asleep before his fingers find the knob on the radio and turn the music all the way up. “Fire of unknown origins…took my baby away!” he sings loudly.

Sam jerks awake, arms flailing around in panic as he spits out the spoon. Dean air drums along to the song, fingers hitting the steering wheel, grinning as Sam wipes his mouth of drool. He turns down the music, an unamused look on his face, “Ha ha, very funny.”

Dean chuckles, “Sorry, not a lot of scenery here in East Texas, kinda gotta make your own.”

“Man we’re not kids anymore, Dean,” he complains, “We’re not going to start that crap up again.”

“Start what up?” Dean asks, feigning innocence.

“That prank stuff. It’s stupid, and it always escalates,” he clarifies, very annoyed with the little prank. But he was right, it did always escalate. I have heard many stories of the things they did and they were not pretty. As long as I didn’t get caught in the crossfire, they could go at it all they wanted, “But you’re never too old to do stupid things,” I add.

“Aw, what’s the matter Sammy, scared you’re going to get a little Nair in your shampoo again, huh?” Dean teases, grinning like a madman.

“Alright, just remember you started it,” Sam warns, smirking right back.

“Bring it on, baldy,” he taunted.

“Ok, but don’t make him bald again, that would be so tragic. Every guy with pretty hair gets a buzz cut and it’s like an angel lost its wings, it’s horrible,” I butt in.

“That’s the point,” Dean chuckles, probably reminiscing on the first time he did it to Sam and how much worse it would be now as an adult than when he was a kid. “Anyways where are we?” Sam asks, apparently not worried about the danger surrounding his hair.

“A few hours outside of Richardson,” he answers, “Gimme the lowdown again?”

Sam pulls out the file he created, printed papers neatly held in a manila folder, “Alright, about a month or two ago this group of kids goes poking around in this local haunted house.”

“Haunted by what?” Dean asks.

“Apparently, a pretty misogynistic spirit,” he answers. I sigh, these kinds of spirits made for an incredibly annoying job, “Why are they always misogynistic? Literally, go kill anyone else! Or, spice it up and kill guys too.”

“Take that up with the spirit,” Dean says.

“Yeah, no thanks, I like living,” I retort with a smirk.

“Well, legend goes, it takes girls and strings them up in the rafters,” Sam continues, “Anyway this group of kids see this dead girl hanging in the cellar.”

“Anybody ID the corpse?” Dean asks, also getting back on track.

“Well, that’s the thing. By the time the cops got there the body was gone. So cops are saying the kids were just yanking chains,” Sam elaborates.

“Do you think they were?” I question, it wouldn’t be the first time kids lied about this sort of thing as a prank or for attention and coverage, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. But, on the other hand, if you're looking for something to happen in a known haunted location there’s a good chance you’ll get something. “Maybe, but I read a couple of the kid's first-hand accounts. They seemed pretty sincere,” he answers.

“They made the papers?” I ask, taken aback a little. Though it made sense for the case to likely make the papers, it would be surprising for accounts like that to be taken in main news articles, it’d be seen as a waste of time. “No,” Sam responds without making a sign he would elaborate.

“Where’d you read these accounts?” Dean pushes. Sam smiles, his cheeks just turning the slightest shade of pink, “Well, I knew we were going to be passing through Texas. So, um, last night, I surfed some local…” he drags before getting the rest out quickly, “paranormal websites. And I found one.”

I give him a questioning look, it’s hard to take those sites seriously, especially when it's hard to weed out the crazies from real accounts. But even more than that, in the case such sites are speaking the truth, then it was putting said people in danger they wouldn’t know how to solve, which meant a whole lot of stubborn and ignorant people. “And what’s it called?” Dean asks, smirking as if he knew where this would lead.

“HellHoundsLair.com,” Sam almost mumbles, obviously knowing how illegitimate and silly it sounds.

“Lemme guess, streaming live out of Mom’s basement,” Dean muses, and like any sane person I can’t help the laugh that escapes my chest. Sam, somehow, manages to just grin, “Yeah, probably.”

“Yeah. Most of those websites wouldn’t know a ghost if it bit ‘em in the persqueeter,” Dean adds.

“What’s a persqueeter?” I ask, the word slow and clumsy on my tongue. My eyes squint slightly as I try to figure it out. “It’s a—“ Sam cuts him off, “That’s not important right now,” he starts and I frown at not getting my answer, “Look. We let Dad take off. Which was a mistake, by the way. And now we don’t know where the hell he is, so in the meantime we gotta find ourselves something to hunt. There’s no harm checking this thing out.”

“Alright,” Dean gives in, “So where do we find these kids?”

“Same place you always find kids in a town like this.”

Guy 1: “It was the scariest thing I ever saw in my life, I swear to God.”

Guy 2: “From the moment we walked in, the walls were painted black.”

Guy 1: “Red.”

Girl: “I think it was blood.”

Guy 1: “All these freaky symbols.”

Guy 2: “Crosses and stars and…”

Guy 1: “Pentagons.”

Guy 2: “Pentacostals.”

Girl: “Whatever I had my eyes closed the whole time.”

Guy 1: “But I can damn sure tell you this much. No matter what anybody else says…”

Girl: “That poor girl.”

Guy 2: “With the black…”

Guy 1: “Blonde…”

Girl: “Red hair, just hanging there.”

Guy 1: “Kicking!”

Guy 2: “Without even moving!”

Girl: “She was real.”

Guy 1: “One hundred percent.”

Guy 2: “And kinda hot. Well, you know, in a dead sort of way.”

“Okay!” I exclaim, “And there’s the necrophilia!”

“And…how’d you find out about this place anyway?” Sam asks.

“Craig.”

“Craig.”

“Craig took us.”

I prop my sunglasses on top of my head, pushing some of my hair back from my face, as we walk into the record shop ‘Craig’ works. Considering each person's answer, and how they hardly matched up, I couldn’t even fathom what Craig would tell us. But in all fairness their responses, while…odd, did make sense considering there are about eight things that affect the observation of an eyewitness.

The bell above the door once more as it closes behind us. Whether Craig would be helpful didn’t take away from the beauty of this record shop, the stands filled to the brim with all sorts of vinyls neatly sorted into separate genres. “Fellas,” a spiky-haired brunette greets from behind the counter, “Can I help you with anything?”

“Yeah, are you Craig Thurston?” Sam asks as we move closer. “I am,” he confirms.

“Well, we’re reporters with the Dallas Morning News,” Dean begins, “I’m Dean, this is Sam and Y/N.”

“No way. Well, I’m a writer too. I write for my school’s lit magazine,” Craig informs.

“Well, good for you Morrissey,” Dean remarks a little rudely. I ignore his comment, hoping it won’t discourage him from speaking with us, “So, we’re writing an article on local hauntings and we heard you would be someone to talk to.”

“‘You mean the Hell House?” he asks.

“That’s the one,” Dean answers.

“I didn’t think there was anything to the story,” he admits and frankly he has a right to be suspicious. “Why don’t you tell us the story?” Sam suggests.

“Well, supposedly back in the ‘30s this farmer, Mordechai Murdoch, used to live in this house with his six daughters. It was during the Depression, his crops were failing, he didn’t have enough money to feed his own children. So I guess that’s when he went off the deep end,”

“How?” Sam pushes.

“Well, he figured it was best if his girls died quickly, rather than starve to death. So he attacked them. They screamed, begged for him to stop but he just strung ‘em up, one after the other. And when he was all finished he turned around and hung himself. Now they say that his spirit is trapped in the house forever, stringing up any other girl that goes inside,” he explains.

“Where’d you hear all this?” Dean asks the logical question.

“My cousin Dana told me. I don’t know where she heard it,” he answers, his expression dropping a little, “Ya gotta realize, I–I didn’t believe this for a second.”

“But now you do,” Sam finishes, giving him an understanding nod.

“I don’t know what the hell to think, man. You guys, I–I’ll tell you exactly what I told the police, okay? That girl was real. And she was dead. This was not a prank. I swear to God, I don’t wanna go anywhere near that house ever again, okay?”

******

Mud sloshes beneath my shoes as we walk up the muddy path to the dark-wooded house. It was a simple house with a rickety porch in the middle of nowhere. “Can’t say I blame the kid,” Sam comments.

“Yeah, so much for curb appeal,” Dean jokes.

We soon split up, taking a little peek around the bleak property for anything at all. Sam and I meet up halfway and walk back to the front, meeting up with Dean and his EMF reader. “You got something there?” I ask, playfully nudging into him. He taps the reader, the EMF level not changing, “Yeah, the EMF’s no good.”

“Why?” Sam asks.

“Maybe you need another walkman to toy with,” I guess, only half teasing. His green eyes shoot to mine, “This baby’s foolproof, nothin’ wrong with it,” he defends.

“Mm,” I hum, “Then why is it ‘no good’ now?”

He gestures upwards, my eyes following the overhead power lines, “I think that thing’s still got a little juice in it. It’s screwing with all the readings.”

“Yeah, that’d do it,” Sam agrees.

“See!” he wiggles the EMF reader in front of my face, a wide smile curling on my lips, “Nothin’ wrong with it.”

I place a hand over his, pushing his hand and the reader down from my face, “Sorry! I just think your whole DIY thingy is adorable,” I laugh.

“It’s not adorable. It’s genius,” he defends.

“Fine, it’s adorably genius,” I correct, having a hard time keeping the stupid smile off my face.

“You two ready to go?” Sam asks. I turn towards him, his arms crossed over his chest, and his lips pursed together in that silly, sassy way he does it. I know what he’s insinuating by the way he says it and the way he’s impatiently waiting. But, I don’t want nor need him to bring that up again, let alone now, so I respond, “Born ready.” Before moving away from Dean and stepping up on the porch, my hand reaches for the doorknob.

I turn the knob and push the door open, letting more light crawl into the dark home. The sunlight creeps along the floor, stretching its arm as far as it can reach inside. The walls are a grayish-blue wallpaper littered with graffiti and the occasional hole, the windows are broken but the soft yellow glow of the sun still makes itself known through the plastic wrap covering it. There’s still some furniture left behind, an old red chaise sofa pushed to the wall, a fallen tree lying in front of it. Quite the house. But, it’s clear it was beautiful once, and in some odd way, perhaps it still is. “Looks like old man Murdock was a bit of a tagger here in his time,” Dean whistles.

“And after his time too. That reverse cross had been used by Satanists for centuries but this sigil of silver didn’t show up in San Francisco until the ‘60s,” Sam informs, pointing at a painted cross with a circle around it.

“That is exactly why you never get laid,” Dean comments, staring at his brother.

“That is a very weird thing to say,” I reply as Sam takes a photo of the sigil, “And that was a very fun fact.”

Dean shrugs, moving to another wall, “Than—“ Sam tries to say as his brother cuts him off, “Hey, what about this one, you seen this one before?” He gestures to a symbol of a cross with a dot in the middle, the bottom stroke looking like an upside-down question mark. “No,” he says simply.

“Me neither,” I shake my head.

“I have,” Dean informs, “Somewhere.” Sam reaches out to the symbol, rubbing it, he pulls his hand away and looks at his now fingers, “It’s paint. Seems pretty fresh too.”

“I don’t know. You know I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind, but….the cops may be right about this one,” Dean says. And while Dean was quite the skeptic when it came to whether cases would actually be our sort of cases, for him to say that, to even possibly agree with the authority was big. “Yeah, maybe,” Sam mumbles.

Then, suddenly there’s a rustling or shuffling noise from the next room over. Immediately we move into action. Dean grabs a hold of my wrist and pushes me beside him as he takes position near the door, Sam taking the other side of the door. Our backs flat against the wall, Dean nods his head at his brother before they burst through the door. Immediately, they stumble back, shielding their eyes from bright lights and the shouts of…two guys. I move in after them, moving around Dean to be involved in the seemingly unthreatening situation.

Two short guys decked out in all sorts of gear stand before us. “Oh, cut. It’s just a coupla humans,” the one with black hair scuffs, wearing huge goggles on his head—maybe night vision, and a studio light in hand . The other guy holding a camera switches it off. “What are you guys doing here?” night vision questions, eyeing us. “What the hell are you doing here?” Dean shoots right back.

Night vision laughs, “We belong here, we’re professionals?” he answers as if it should’ve been obvious. However, the only obvious thing here was how stupid they looked. “Professional what?” I ask, somewhat confused. Night Vision smirks, reaching into one of the many pockets on his beige vest before pulling out a white card, “Paranormal Investigators,” he identifies, handing me his little card. I take it from him, looking at him skeptically, “There you go, take a look at that, beautiful,” his eyes sweep over my frame slowly, stopping too long at one too many areas. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me,” Dean grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“Wow,” I say plainly, “Ed Zeddmore,” the night vision guy nods his head in confirmation “and Harry Spengler, so professional they have their own business cards for their website,” I throw a look at Sam and Dean, “HellhoundsLair.”

“You guys run that website?” Sam asks in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Ed smiles confidently, practically beaming in his boast.

“Oh yeah, yeah, we’re huge fans,” Dean says sarcastically, a stupid grin on his lips.

“And ah, we know who you guys are too,” Ed claims, all high and mighty. Once more I’m confused by this dude. “Oh yeah?” Sam challenges, looking at him sharply.

“Amateurs,” Ed explains and immediately Dean walks away in lost interest, rummaging through cabinets instead of really listening. “Looking for ghosts and cheap thrills,” he continues. I cross my arms across my chest, “Right…” I drawl sarcastically, “‘Cause I just love a cheap thrill.”

“I can give you an…ex-expensive thrill,” Ed winks smoothly despite the words coming out awkward and choppy. His eyes drop to my breasts that peek out from my top, staring at them like they’re the only things in the room. I grimace, cringing as I unfold my arms in hopes it will help…it doesn’t, “Oh…that’s not, um…no…”

“Well, if you guys don’t mind, we’re trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here,” Harry speaks up.

“Yeah, what have you got so far?” Dean asks, sauntering back over.

“Harry, why doncha tell ‘em about EMF?” Ed suggests proudly, chin raised.

“Well…” Harry says before Sam cuts him off, “EMF?” He tries to keep a smile off his face as he clearly tries to play dumb. These poor guys.

“Electromagnetic field?” Harry responds like we’re idiots, “Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector,” he turns around to rummage through his backpack before producing the gadget, “Like this bad boy right here.” He turns the box on, adjusting the antenna. A knowing smirk crawls on Dean’s face, we obviously know they won’t see anything, at least not anything accurate. “Woa. Whoa. It’s 2.8mg,” Harry announces, eyebrows shot up.

“2.8,” Ed exclaims, “It’s hot in here.”

I have to bite my lip to keep my laughter back. Dean whistles in admiration, Sam remarking a “Wow,” with a hint of irony.

“Huh. So you guys ever really seen a ghost before, or…” Dean asks.

“Once,” Ed declares, “We were, uh…we were investigating this old house and we saw a vase fall right off the table…”

“By itself,” Harry finishes, emphasizing it with a firm head movement. “Well, we, we, we, we didn’t actually see it, we heard it,” Ed backtracks, stumbling on his words, “And something like that..it uh…it changes you.”

“Mm, I’m sure it does,” I play. They were total idiots, they’d be lucky if they don’t get themselves killed. Dean nods, his voice bored and unamused, “Yeah. I think I get the picture. We should go, let them get back to work”

“Yeah, you should,” Ed replies, crossing his arms clumsily across his chest. With his back turned towards the naïve boys, Dean widens his eyes at us, nodding his head towards the door in front of him. “Oh but, um,” Ed stammers, looking at me, “If you wanna stay we can show you the real deal.”

Sam and Dean seem to pause in the doorway. I try to hide my shock and disinterest behind a tight-lipped smile, “Oh…no thanks…” I spin around, more than ready to leave. But, just outside the doorway, I pause, spinning back around to end it with, “Seek happiness in tranquility, and avoid ambition, even if it be only the apparently innocent one of distinguishing yourself in science and discoveries.” I smile even as confusion falls upon their faces and when I turn back to my boys a similar expression graces theirs.

Yet, only as we descend the steps of the old house do they break. “Did you just quote Frankenstein to them?” Sam asks, his brows twisted with confusion as a boyish smile pulls at his lips. I skip down the last step, “Maybe…”

I catch Dean's eyes rolling, he mumbles something beneath his breath before mumbling just a little louder, “This is why I’m the only one who gets laid.”

Sam and I move as one, walking down the stairs of the library. Dean approaches us, his eyes flicking over us. “Hey,” Sam nods to him. “Hey. What you got?” Dean asks as we hit the last step.

“Well we couldn’t find a Morechai but we did find a Martin Murdock who lived in the house in the ‘30s,” Sam explains, summarizing our findings.

“And, he did have kids but only two of them, both boys, and there’s nothing on him killing anyone,” I add. Our findings only supported the theory that this was nothing more than a story, maybe it wasn’t our kind of job.

“Huh,” Dean hums, most likely thinking the same thing.

“What about you?” Sam asks as we approach the Impala. Dean rounds the car, speaking over the top of it, “Well those kids didn’t really give us a clear description of that dead girl but I did hit up the police station. No matching missing persons. It’s like she never existed. Dude, come on, we did our digging, this one’s a bust alright. For all we know those HellHound boys made up the whole thing.”

“I really hate to agree and blame this on faulty witnesses and a scary story, but…we really do got nothing,” I nod. I don’t know what those kids saw, maybe it was some sort of prank or being scared and seeing something that wasn't there, either way the story was likely made up.

“Yeah, alright,” Sam surprisingly agrees. He’s usually the one to be stubborn on this and see it out, or just have a feeling that we should see it out. So, for him to agree was more than confirmation. “I say we find ourselves a bar and some beers and leave the legend to the locals,” Dean suggests, a smile on his lips. He gets into the car, and before I can round the car Sam grabs my forearm mouthing a ‘just wait.’ I give him a confused look, brows furrowing, but he leans down to peer into the car through the window and instantly I know this is a prank.

I roll my eyes but I too peer through the window, might as well see the outcome. He turns the key in the ignition, and immediately Latina pop music blasts from the car, loud enough to hear clearly from the safety of outside the car. He jumps, his fingers fumbling for the key in the ignition but instead, the windshield wipers turn on. He shouts something but all we can see is the moving of his lips, the music too loud. He quickly reaches for the volume dial, hitting it the music ceases, his shoulders drop a bit as he hits off the windshield wipers too.

Finally, I round the car as Sam bursts out in laughter. I get in and a moment later Sam’s opening his door and sitting. He licks his finger and draws an imaginary ‘1’ in the air, then points to himself. Fire might as well have ignited in Dean's green eyes as he gives his brother the dirtiest look, “That’s all you got? Weak. That is bush league,” he challenges.

The early morning sun breaks the horizon, painting the sky a soft orange. The lights of emergency vehicles spin in colors of red and blue, police officers move around, a filled body bag being rolled away on a stretcher. We missed something.

“What happened?” Dean questions another bystander, there’s a small group of people that watch the scene from behind the yellow caution tape. “A coupla cops say a girl hung herself in the house,” the man answers.

“Suicide?” Sam asks.

“Yeah. She was a straight-A student, with a full ride to UT too. It just don’t make sense,” he explains and he’s right it doesn’t make any sense. Of course, you don’t know what’s going on behind closed doors, but to come to this specific run-down house with haunting rumors to kill yourself is odd. For whatever reason the man walks away, maybe leaving the scene after realizing there was no point in being here anymore. “Whaddaya think?” Sam asks, shoving his hands in his sweatshirt pockets.

“I think we’re wrong about this not being our kind of job,” I answer, we must have missed something.

******

Darkness cloaks us as well as the thick bushes we crouch behind. We wouldn't be hiding if it wasn’t for the cop car parked outside the old house and the two cops standing around. “I guess the cops don’t want anyone else screwing around there,” Sam comments. It makes sense for them not to want stupid teenagers coming around or another teen to kill themselves here, as horrible as it sounds.

“Yeah but we still gotta get in there,” Dean responds. It’s why we were here, after all, try to figure out what we missed. The cops had been around the place all day, nighttime was supposed to be a clearing. A cool breeze rustles the leaves softly and chills my body, a contrast to the heat earlier in the day, I pull my sweatshirt closer in an attempt to fight off the coolness.

“I don’t believe it,” Dean grumbles randomly. I turn my head to follow his line of sight, and just a couple of feet away are the two idiots from before. They approach, decked out in all sorts of gadgets, more than before which I hadn’t thought possible. They whisper to themselves and shush each other, I wouldn’t be surprised if they started laughing in the way you do when you're trying to be quiet, and yet everything is suddenly funny. “You gotta be kidding,” I mumble.

“I got an idea,” Dean says. He rises slightly, turning towards the cops. He cups his hands around his mouth, “Who ya gonna call!” he shouts. Ed and Harry look around frantically, muttering to themselves, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Hey! you!” one of the cops shouts, eyes locked on the two boys before him and his partner heading straight for them. “Freeze!” the cop warns. But one of the nerds yelps a “run!” and they turn around quickly before hauling it. “Get back here. Hey,” the cops shout before following them. Our laughs blend together despite trying to hold them back. But we use this opportunity to make a break for the house, our shoes hitting the ground hard.

Quickly we get inside and immediately Sam is taking the duffle bag off his back, jumping straight into action. Dean and I take out our flashlights that were hidden in the waistband of our pants and concealed by our jackets. The lights of our flashlights go on, illuminating the dark home just enough.

Sam breaks out the rifles, handing one to each of us. The rock salt is already locked and loaded. “Where have I seen that symbol before? It’s killing me!” Dean exclaims, his flashlight hovering over the symbol of the cross with a dot in the middle, the bottom stroke looking like an upside-down question mark. “Come on, we don’t have much time,” Sam urges. There’s no saying when the cops would stop their chase and if they’d come to check inside.

We move through the house quickly until we find the basement, moving down the stairs just as fast. Racks of shelves practically take up the whole basement, rows of them. Each one dusty and cornered with cobwebs, all kinds of glass jars filled with questionable liquids. “Hey, Sam. I dare you to take a swig of this,” Dean says, holding up a particular jar filled with a pale red liquid of some sort. There was no way of knowing what that liquid or any of them are without a lab and some testing, which naturally we don’t have. “What the hell would I do that for?” Sam shoots back.

“…I double dare you,” he grins. Sam just shakes his head, going back to looking around. A rustling noise draws our attention towards a cabinet but before we can investigate it a rat pokes its head out, squeaking before running away. “I hate rats,” Dean grumbles, lifting his feet up as the rat scurries away.

“You’d rather it was a ghost?” Sam questions, one eyebrow quirked.

“Yes,” Dean deadpans. I roll my eyes moving forward, “Do you think these jars are old pickled stuff or, like, bodily fluid stuff?” I ask, casting a glance over my shoulder at Dean. But before I can take another step, I’m yanked back suddenly, my breath catching as the belt loop of my shorts is sharply tugged. In an instant, my back slams against Dean's chest just as the shelves in front of me crash down with a deafening shatter. An axe buries itself in the spot where I had just been standing.

The sound of gunfire explodes in the room as Sam fires off two shots at the spirit of the old farmer, but it does nothing to stop him. Heart pounding, I whip my gun up, the weight familiar in my hand. Without hesitation, I pull the trigger, aiming at the spirit now dangerously close. Mordechai goes up in a mist, disappearing, “What the hell kind of spirit is immune to rock salt?” Sam exclaims.

“This one apparently!” I shout, moving from Dean's hold as he urges us towards the stairs. But Mordechai appears again, he smashes his axe down, catching the shelves and bringing the jars crashing down on Dean, glass shattering all around him as he goes down with it. My heart pounds in my ears, adrenaline rushing through my veins. I raise my gun, steadying my hands before taking my shot, rock salt explodes from the gun, hitting its mark but still doing nothing to the spirit. The spirit instead turns and charges at Sam. Shot after shot reverberates through the room emanating from Sam’s gun, “Go! Get outta here!!” Sam yells.

I rush towards Dean, shotgun hanging at my side. The glass crunches beneath my shoes as I pull Dean up, dragging him by his forearms. He grunts as he gets to his feet and if we weren’t being chased by a farmer ghost right now I’d take the time to dust the glass from his jacket. Instead, I grab hold of his hand and drag him behind me as I bolt for the stairs.

The axe seems to come down somewhere else in the room, electrical whizzing noises following it, but I ignore it as we shuffle up the stairs and be-line to the front door. We bolt out the door, caution tape breaking as Dean breaks through it, nearly stumbling down the steps.

A camera is immediately pushed into our faces, the nerds of course behind it, “Get that damn thing outta my face,” Dean commands, an arm raised to block its view.

I lay on my stomach on Sam’s bed which I’m temporarily stealing to research. An arm beneath my chin props my head up, my legs kicking slowly in the air back and forth, as I try to find any info on my laptop sitting in front of me. Dean sits on his bed, sketching something on a little notebook as his brother sits at the table with his laptop researching too.

“What the hell is this symbol? It’s buggin’ the hell outta me,” Dean grumbled, hitting the book down to his leg, “This whole damn job’s buggin’ me. I thought the legend said Mordechai only goes after chicks.”

“It does,” Sam confirms.

“All right. Well, I mean, that explains why it went after you guys, but why me?” Dean questions. I roll my eyes at his sneakily placed joke, if the legend was right then it should’ve only gone after me, jokes aside. “Hilarious,” Sam responds, “The legend also says he hung himself but did you see those slit wrists?”

“Yeah,” Dean says but I certainly missed it, though I was busy trying not to get chopped by an axe. “What’s up with that? And the axe too,” Sam points out, “I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over?”

“But this mook keeps changing,” Dean adds. Sam types away on his laptop, the keys satisfyingly clicking, “Exactly.”

“Maybe we got a different breed of ghost here,” I suggest, throwing the idea out there even though it’s unlikely. Sam shakes his head, “I’m telling ya, the way the story goes—“ I peer at him over my laptop at his sudden stopping, his face scrunched, “Wait a minute,” he says.

“What?” I ask.

“Someone added a new post to the Hell Hound site,” he informs, “Listen to this. ‘They say Mordechai Murdock was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an axe before slitting his own wrists. Now he’s imprisoned in the house for eternity.”

“A story changing over time makes sense, like a game of telephone. But a spirit that changes with it?… Can they do that?” I ask.

Dean suddenly sits straight up, eyes locked on his drawing of the symbol we saw. “I don’t know,” Sam answers, then huffs as he leans back in his seat with his arms crossed against his chest, “Where the hell is this going?”

“I don’t know but I think I might have just figured out where it all started,” Dean announces

******

The bell above the door dings as we enter the empty record store, the only person there being a bored Craig. Good thing he’s working today. “Hey, Craig? Remember us?” Dean begins an unamused smile on his face.

“Guys, look I’m really not in the mood to answer any of your questions okay?” he responds looking deflated.

“Oh don’t worry. We’re just here to buy an album, that’s all,” Dean reassures. He saunters over to the ‘rock’ section of records, flicking through them until he finds what he wants. He lifts it out and up. “You know, I couldn’t figure out what that symbol was and then I realized that it doesn’t mean anything,” Dean explains, directing his words to Sam and I as we approach the counter, “It’s the logo for the Blue Oyster Cult.” He turns his attention to Craig, pressing the album record of Club Ninja onto the counter, “Tell me Craig, you, uh, you into BOC? Or just scaring the hell outta people?” The boy in question's face drops, his eyes dropping to the album before landing on Dean again. “Now why ‘n’t you tell us about that house…without lying through your ass this time,” Dean orders.

Craig sighs, “Alright, um. My cousin Dana was on break from TCU. Ah, I guess we were just bored, looking for something to do. So I showed her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted,” he explains, “So we painted symbols on the walls, some from some albums, some from some of Dana’s theology textbooks. Then we found out this guy Murdock used to live there so we…we made up some story to go along with it. So they told people, who told other people. And then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took on a life of its own. I mean I, I thought it was funny at first but…now that girl’s dead! It was just a joke, you know. I mean, none of it was real, we made the whole thing up. I swear!”

“Alright right,” Sam says softly, ending the conversation. We have our information now, or at least a direction. None of it’s real and yet, somehow, it’s very real.

******

“There you go,” the nice barista smiles, handing over our drinks. Dean takes two of the coffees while I take my latte, “Thank you so much,” I beam, placing a nice tip in the little plastic jar.

We make our way to an empty table. Sam immediately pulls out his laptop, wiggling around in his seat and fixing his jeans with a grimace on his face. “Dude, what’s your problem?” Dean asks, calling him out.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he denies in the least convincing way ever.

“Are you sure?” I ask, eyes sweeping over him, “You look really uncomfortable.” But he just nods his head even as he adjusts himself one more time, “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

“So, ahh, alright keep going,” Dean moves on, “What about these Tulpas?”

“Okay, so there was this incident in Tibet in 1915. group of monks visualized a golem in their head. They meditated on it so hard they brought the thing to life. Outta thin air,” Sam explains.

“What? So, they manifested it?” I ask. I know manifestation and intention are powerful things but for a whole being to come from it sounds bizarre. “Wait, I guess that makes sense considering that just the belief and fear people have and or give off in reaction to a spirit gives it more power,” I think out loud, answering my question.

“So?” Dean counters.

“That was 20 monks. Imagine what 10,000 web surfers could do. I mean Craig starts the story about Mordechai, then it spreads, goes online. Now there are countless people all believing in the bastard,” Sam elaborates.

“Does the HellHound site actually have that many people looking at it?” I question, I mean people believe whatever they see. And it’s not like these things don’t exist, it’s just that Ed and Harry certainly weren’t finding it. “Unfortunately,” Sam quips. That many people would be impressive if not for the idiots that are behind it all. “Are you trying to tell me that just because people believe in Mordechai, he’s real?” Dean speculates.

“I dunno, maybe” his brother answers, shifting in his seat like he or it’s uncomfortable.

“People believe in Santa Claus, how come I’m not getting hooked up every Christmas?” Dean points out.

“Cuz you’re a bad person,” Sam deadpans, replying a little too fast, “And because of this,” he turns his laptop around to show us a photo of a complex symbol, “That’s a Tibetan spirit sigil. On the wall of the house. Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology textbook. I bet they painted this, not even knowing what it was.”

“Man, what are the chances of that?” I mumble.

“Now that sigil has been used for centuries, concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass,” Sam continues, ignoring my comment, “So people are on the HellHounds website, staring at the symbol, thinking about Mordechai…I mean, I don’t know, but it might be enough to bring a Tulpa to life.”

“It would explain why he keeps changing,” Dean replies. Sam grimaces, adjusting himself again, one too many times for it not to be concerning, “Right, as the legend changes, people think different things, so Mordechai himself changes. Like Y/N said before, it's like a game of telephone. That would also explain why the rock salt didn’t work.”

“So what does work?” I ask, “If that’s even a thing here.”

“Why don’t we just, uh, get this spirit sigil thingie off the wall and off the website?” Dean suggests.

“Well, it’s not that simple. You see, once Tulpas are created they take on a life of their own,” Sam explains. In conclusion, stupid teenagers draw random symbols on a wall to scare others, somehow choose one that uses belief, it becomes a big legend, scary fake farmer kills people, and it’s our problem now. The chances of all that genuinely have to be so low. “Great,” Dean remarks, “How the hell are we supposed to kill an idea?”

Sam itches around his hips and shuffles in his seat again, “Well it’s not gonna be easy with these guys helping us. Check out their homepage.” He clicks on a couple of things before a video of last night plays, “Since they’ve posted the video their number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone.” God, I wish we could just hit them in the face so hard.

“Hmm,” Dean hums, “I got an idea. Come on.”

“You do?” I ask though that little glint in his eye is enough proof. “Where we going?” Sam adds.

“We gotta find a copy store,” he answers. We rise to go, grabbing our to-go cups of drinks and Sam grabs his laptop before itching and wiggling, “Man, I think I’m allergic to our soap or something,” he complains. A stupid grin stretches on Dean's face, laughing as he walks away. “You did this?” Sam says through clenched teeth. And if Dean's confusion to laughter isn't an answer then I don’t know what is. “You’re a fucking jerk!”

“That is some evil shit,” I comment. I don’t even know when he had time to pull his prank but it definitely beat the car thing Sam had pulled. “Oh yeah,” Dean smiles, satisfied.

******

“I think Y/N should be the one to bait them,” Sam reasons as we walk towards the trailer. Dean has his whole plan which requires fake papers, a copy machine, and some lying. What more could you want? “Do I have to?” I ask, “They’re, like, all weird.” But really I mean creepy or gross.

“Yeah, I can do it,” Dean defends.

“That’s the point though, they’ll listen to her ‘cause she’s a girl and those two look like they haven’t interacted with one before two days ago,” Sam explains. I laugh shortly, “Ha, they definitely didn’t, at least not a real-life one,” I then exhale, “Alright fine I’ll do it.” It’s not even a big deal to begin with to be fair.

We approach their trailer, a little garden flamingo standing tilted in the grass and a couple of foldable lounge chairs sitting about. Dean pounds on the door, fist-hitting it repeatedly. A squeal comes from inside before someone calls out, “Who is it?”

“Come on out here guys, we hear you in there,” Dean responds.

“It’s them,” one of them whisper-shouts, too bad we can hear them. But there’s a click and the door opens up a crack, both their heads squeezing to stick out the door. “Ah, would you look at that! Action figures in their original packaging,” Dean remarks, looking right over their head to peer into their trailer, “What a shock.”

“Guys, we need to talk,” Sam starts.

“Yeah, um, sorry guys. We’re ahh, a little busy right now,” Ed responds, adjusting his glasses.

“Okay, well, we’ll make it quick. We need you to shut down your website,” Dean says bluntly.

Ed laughs, almost like a bark, “Man, you know, these guys got us busted last night, spent the night in a holding cell—“

“I had to pee in that cell urinal. In front of people. And I get stage fright,” Harry adds in, eyes jumping around like he’s paranoid or anxious.

“Uh..thanks for sharing that with us…?” I respond, smiling awkwardly.

“Well, why should we trust you guys?” Ed asks, crossing his arms.

“Look, guys. We all know what we saw last night, what’s in the house. But now thanks to your website there are thousands of people hearing about Mordechai,” Sam explains.

Dean adding, “That’s right. Which means people are gonna keep showing up at the Hell House, running into him in person, somebody could get hurt.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Ed nods slowly, rubbing his chin. “Ed maybe he’s got a point, maybe…” Harry adds softly.

“Nope…” Ed decides and Harry’s demeanor does a full 180 as he says “No,” too.

“Right, so you have no morals,” I conclude, “If—no, not even if, when someone gets hurt their blood’s on your hands.”

“We have an obligation to our fans, to the truth,” Ed defends.

“Well, I have an obligation to kick both of your little asses right now–” Dean threatens through clenched teeth.

“Dean,” I cut him off, holding him back with a hand on his shoulder, “It’s not worth it, god knows you can give ‘em one hit and they’d be crying back to their mommies. Hell, I could tell them that thing about Mordechai and it wouldn’t matter, they just don't care.”

“We should just leave,” Sam adds.

“Whoa…whoa…” the idiots say, interest peaked.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean gives in. With that, we turn back around and begin to walk away, purposely moving slowly. “What you say about…?” Ed asks, trailing after us. “Wait…Wait.” We turn back to them, an unamused look on my face. “What thing about Mordechai you guys?” Harry asks, trying to be nonchalant.

“Don’t tell ‘em,” Dean warns me.

“Not even if they agree to shut down the website?” I ask.

“They’re not going to do it, you said so yourself,” Dean reasons. I sigh, shaking my head, “You’re right.”

“No wait!” Ed rushes out, “Wait. Don’t listen to him, okay? We’ll do it. We’ll do it.” Like fishes on a hook getting reeled in.

“It’s a secret, Y/N,” Sam reminds, his voice as serious as can be. I look up at the two nerds, their eyes sparkling with intrigue, if they were dogs I'm sure their tails would be flicking behind them, “It’s a pretty big deal, you know. It wasn’t easy to find, so we really have to have your word. You have to promise you’ll shut it all down.”

“Totally,” Ed says. I pause a moment, eyeing them as if I’m really considering it before nodding at Dean. He pulls out some folded papers from the inside of his leather jacket, handing it over to them. “That’s a death certificate from the ‘30s,” I explain, “We found it at the library and according to the coroner the actual cause of death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound.”

“That’s right, he didn’t hang or cut himself,” Dean confirms, emphasizing our “find.”

“He shot himself?” Ed asks, a little skeptical as he looks up from the paper. “Yup, it’s all right there,” I answer, “With a .45 pistol. To this day they say he’s terrified of them.”

“Matter of fact they say if you shoot him with a .45, loaded with these special wrought-iron rounds, it’ll kill the sonuvabitch,” Dean adds. They snicker like school girls, the apples of their cheeks brightening with their smiles. Harry spins and bolts it to their trailer, Ed moves more slowly as he follows behind as if he’s trying to play it cool. “Harry,” he mumbles through his teeth, “Slow your roll buddy. They’re gonna know we’re excited.”

“Dude!” I exclaim, laughing a bit as Dean pops a stolen fry into his mouth, “You just finished your food, leave my fries alone.” But he shrugs with that charming smile on his lips, his arm resting on the booth's top, practically stretching out. The golden crisp of oil goodness is hardly missed with a sight like this. He turns his attention to the woodwork of an old goofy fisherman holding a big fish, a string dangling from it. He reaches up and pulls the cord, the fisherman’s mouth moving up and down as it laughs this obnoxious laugh. I myself try not to laugh as I sip on my soda.

Sam reaches up and pulls the cord again, the laughing stopping immediately, “If you pull that string one more time I’m gonna kill you,” he threatens, looking up from his laptop. In all fairness Dean had pulled the cord at least twice already since we’ve sat down, and yet, to me, it was funny every single time. The kind of stupid humor or even stupidly contagious laugh that made you want to snicker. The threatened man across us deadpans, staring at his brother as he slowly reaches up and pulls the cord again. The fisherman barely has time to laugh himself before Sam is pulling it to stop, glaring at Dean. It's like a standoff. Dean snickers, “Come on man, you need more laughter in your life. You know you’re way too tense,” he reasons.

Not having it, Sam gives him a dirty look. Clearly not amused nor having any desire to be amused. Dean sighs, seemingly giving up on his conquest, “They post it yet?”

Sam turns his screen towards me, an easier thing to do then all away around, as he angrily stabs at what’s left of his salad. My eyes scan the screen, immediately landing on the new post, “‘We’ve learned from reputable sources that Mordechai Murdock had a fatal fear of firearms’” I read and I have to admit their choice of words is awfully intelligent sounding, “Hey, look at us, we’re reputable sources,” I point out.

“Reputable copying machine,” Dean corrects a shit-eating grin on his lips. They had fallen into his exact plan, of course they wouldn’t shut down the website regardless of what they promised (good thing it wasn’t a pinkie promise), and of course they would take any information like starving dogs and post it as soon as possible. ‘Obligation to their fans, the truth’ as he had said. “Alright. How long do we wait?” Dean asks.

“Long enough for the new story to spread, and the legend to change,” Sam answers, “I figure by nightfall iron rounds will work on the sucker.” He picks up his beer bottle and holds it up to us, taking the small victory we gently clink our drinks together in a silent ‘cheers.’ “Sweet,” Dean grins, the light reflecting off of the glass beer bottle, gleaming at its base as it’s tilted up to his lips. I’ve never really understood why one would drink before a hunt, not that one bottle would do anything to him of all people, yet, when his lips are on the rim that sort of thing doesn’t seem to matter. Another interesting thing, drinking has never looked so attractive as it does on him. But perhaps that’s the bias you have when you like someone, somehow everything becomes attractive.

The bottle finally clanks to the table, his hand still wrapped around it. But when he lets the bottle go his palm sticks to it, fingers stretched out he shakes his hand around like the bottle will fall off. It doesn’t. Sam loses it, cracking up even more as Dean says, “You didn’t.”

A little tube of super glue is raised up, “Oh, I did!” he laughs, pulling the cord this time, the fisherman laughs again.

“All I’m saying is as stupid as they are, I do feel bad for them, one of these days they’re gonna wind up dead,” I reason, walking with Sam the short distance back to his motel room.

“Yeah…” he shrugs, “But it’d be on them, I mean they haven’t ran off yet, not even after seeing Mordechai.”

I hum, absorbing his words, “That’s true.” The door is open just a little, like it didn’t close fully behind him when he had left to come get me from my room down the hall. I push open the door, “Do yo—“ my words die in my throat replaced with a gasp as cold water dumps on me. A bucket thumps to the floor, just barely missing my head. My hair and clothes drip as I ball my fists at my side, shock from the sudden cold still rattling in my bones as I shake slightly. “Dean?!” I scold.

“That was not meant for you,” he replies, eyes wide as he sits up in his bed.

I got caught in a prank meant for Sam. But didn’t he know Sam was getting me and that there was a chance that I would walk in first instead of him, which is exactly what had happened???!! I exhale, trying to rid myself of any frustration or annoyance. “I’m so sorry Y/N,” he adds.

I laugh, moving a wet piece of hair behind my ear, “You are so getting it.” My shirt clings to my skin, shoulders bunched up from the feeling. Sam chuckles behind me, I turn slowly towards him and immediately he tries to cover it with a hand over his mouth, “Oh you too Sam, you’re not safe. His hand and face drops, “Why me? I didn’t do it?!”

“No, you're right,” I nod, “But you’re part of the reason it happened, your little prank war.” I look between both boys, “You’re both gonna get it, you Winchesters better watch out,” I threaten. I huff moving past Sam, “Now if you’ll excuse me I’m gonna go change before I start stripping in front of you two.”

“I mean—“ Dean calls out and I can hear the grin on his face before I yell back, “Don’t even think about it!” I shuffle off down the hallway, and only back in the safety of my motel room do I fix my situation. I snap my fingers and instantly it’s like nothing ever happened. There’s no need to change when I can do something like that, but what I can do in the privacy of my own room is think of how to get them back and execute it.

******

Early night cloaks the sky, the sun just barley below the horizon as we head to the Impala. A comfortable silence envelopes us. I stop before opening the back door of the Impala, crouching down to re-tie my shoe as they get into their respective sides of the car. The doors seem to shut in sync.

One, two, three, four, five. The doors are being shoved open and they tumble from the car coughing and covering their noses. I stand with a smirk as the smell of rotten eggs escapes the car. “What the hell?!” Dean yells. Sam reaches back into the car, pushing the seat forward to find the source. He fishes out a puffed up square, he holds it by the corner, “Really?”

“Oh, wow, how’d those get there?” I ask, folding my hands in front of me. He gives me a dirty look before throwing the fart bomb to the side. “Real childish,” Dean remarks, holding up his own puffed up fart bomb. “Which part?” I ask, “The pranks or putting fart bombs beneath each of your seats?”

“The bombs, dumbass,” he replies, throwing the little puffed square at me. I laugh, as it hits me in the chest, kicking it away when it hits the floor, “Childish and yet still funny.”

“Yeah if you think gas chambers are funny,” he mumbles.

Our guns are drawn, eyes sharp, brain and body on high alert now that we’re back in the house. The cops had been outside like the night before, but instead of using the idiot ghost hunters as bait Dean had used the stolen fisherman from the diner that he somehow stole. Its current home is now somewhere deep in the woods, a mechanism set up so that it consistently laughs. They were drawn into the forest like pirates drawn to sirens, except what they’ll find is not an attractive mermaid but an obnoxious fisherman.

“I barely have any skin left on my palm,” Dean comments.

“I’m not touching that line with a ten foot pole,” Sam mumbles.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, usually people say that about something. Like ‘I wouldn’t touch that with a ten foot pole’ but there was nothing brought up regarding touching something. “He’s tryna lead us into an inappropriate joke.” Sam explains. The gears slowly turn in my head, cogs rotating trying to figure out what joke, “Oh! You mean masterbation!”

“Yeah,” Sam sighs, and if he hadn’t had both hands trained on his gun I'm sure he’d be pinching the bridge of his nose like a disappointed father.

“So you think old Mordechai’s home?” Dean asks as he move into another room, switching topics.

“I don’t know.”

“Me either,” a voice suddenly says from behind. I spin swiftly around, gun trained.

“WOAH! WOAH!” Ed yells, him and his buddy shuffling back with their hands raised. I scuff, lowering my gun. And of course they’re decked out in their goofy gear. “What did I tell you?!” I exclaim, looking at Sam.

“What are you trying to do, get yourself killed?” he asks the doofuses.

“We’re just trying to get a book and movie deal, okay?” Ed answers.

“Look, the only time you’ll ever be written about is when your obituaries are in the local newspapers,” I spit, not caring how harsh my words are. But Ed doesn’t look defeated or deflated, instead his eyes seem to sparkle, “You are so hot,” he says softly. I drag a hand down my face, sighing, “What part about any of this are you not getting?”

“Why I don’t have your number yet,” he answers. I shake my head, walking away. This is just ridiculous now. “Alright, that’s enough there buddy,” Dean says, placing a firm hand on the guy's shoulder.

Then, the sharp noise of metal on metal comes from behind a door but inches from us. The door to the basement. As if in sync, thinking the same thing, our guns are immediately raised, body and mind back on high alert. “Oh crap,” Ed mumbles and with some shuffling and shoving each other they wind up crowding behind us. Or cowering, if you will. “Uh guys, you wanna…you wanna open that door for us?” Ed asks.

“Why don’t you?” Dean remarks unamused.

Suddenly, the door bursts, wooden shards exploding everywhere as Mordechai bursts through the door holding his axe. Screams and gunshots clash together, the dissonance cracking the atmosphere. I pull the trigger over and over, working at the mechanics of the gun until the cartridge is empty, until there’s nothing left to give. It’s no surprise when the old farmer wavers and disappears into mist with the amount of bullets shot between the three of us, but the real question is did it work?

Once more, we seem to share the same mind as we reload our guns quickly, shoving bullets into the chamber before splitting up. It’s all wordless, movements and thoughts that have been implanted into our mind long before there was even a comprehension of the fact. Every part of my being is on high alert, eyes scanning the room for the spirit. I clear the dusty shell of a room I walk into when I hear a squeal.

Immediately I spin right back around, rushing into the room I stood in only moments ago. I nearly bump into Sam as we meet back in the room only to find Harry on the floor with a shattered camera in front of him. “Hey!” Dean shouts as he enters the room from the opposite side of us, “Didn’t you guys post that B.S. story we gave you?”

“Of course we did,” Ed defends, helping his friend off the floor.

“You know, that didn’t sound all that convincing,” I quip, looking at the destroyed camera. There was no saving that thing and I don’t think any amount of insurance would help it. “But then our server crashed,” Harry corrects.

“So it didn’t take? Dean asks, eyes a little frantic.

“Ummm,” they hum in unison, the noise high pitched as their eyes jump around the room to look anywhere but the gruff man across from them. “So these, these guns don’t work?” Dean laughs darkly, running a hand down his mouth.

“Yeah,” Ed breathes.

“Great,” he murmurs, “Sam, any ideas?”

“We are getting outta here,” Harry declares, no longer concerned with documenting the truth—not that they could. “Yeah. Come on,” Ed agrees. Harry grabs hold of Ed before they run past Dean into the next room. And not even a moment later does girlish screams come from that room.

Yet despite how annoying they are, and all the trouble they’ve caused, Sam and I follow after them. Mordechai corners them against the front door, the boys cower against the door screaming “The power of Christ compels you,” over and over, louder and louder. “HEY! Come and get it you ugly son of a bitch,” Sam taunts. And for whatever reason Mordechai turns and goes after him instead. Sam leads the spirit away from the boys giving me the time to move to the idiots at the door.

I motion for them to move and quickly they shuffle away. I grip the door handle and give it a hard pull, maybe using just a little power to give me more help. The cool breeze blows in as I hold it open for them, the shuffles and grunts of fighting close by, “Go!” I command, pointing out the door. They shove each other as they stumble onto the small porch, Ed turns back before they reach the first step, “So, is your number still on—“

“NO!” I shout, slamming the door in his face. I spin around only to find Sam pressed against the wall with the axe against his throat, pushed higher and higher off the ground until his feet dangle. Immediately I lift my gun and shoot one, two, three, four, five times, glad that the angle I occupy is viewing them at their side. Mordechai disappears in a mist once more, Sam falls to the ground holding his neck as he coughs, but this time I know the spirit isn’t gone for good.

Unfortunately I don’t leave room to ask if he’s okay as I swing around the nearest walkway, “Dean?!” I call, I don’t know where he went off to and I don’t want Mordechai to take advantage of him being alone. “Right here, sweetheart,” he answers, appearing from the next room over. He holds a little metal can of something and when he splashes it around the room as he approaches me I know it must be some flammable liquid.

He nudges me forward, forcing me around before leading me with a hand on my lower back. I move away from his touch to help Sam up from the ground. “Mordechai can’t leave the house, we can’t kill him—we improvise,” Dean explains, shaking what’s left of the can of kerosene.

“Arson…yay,” I answer, watching as he dumps the rest of the liquid. Just then Mordechai appears at the far end of the room, axe raised, he charges at us, “Go, go, go!” Dean directs. I follow after Sam, running to the front door. I hear the flick of the lighter, the clinking of it falling, and the swoosh of flames going up.

We make it outside and down the short steps just as the building quickly ignites in flames. It spreads quickly in the old house, orange and yellow brightening the darkness as the flames lick at the rotting wood. “That’s your solution? Burn the whole damn place to the ground?” Sam exclaims, rubbing at his neck.

“Well nobody will go in anymore,” Dean reasons, “I mean look, Mordechai can’t haunt a house if there’s no house to haunt. It's fast and dirty but it works.”

“Well what if the legend changes again and Mordechai is allowed to leave the house?” Sam counters.

“Well—well then we’ll just have to come back,” Dean stammers, clearly not having thought of that.

The flames consume the entirety of the house, at least it seems that way. It won’t be long till it’s nothing but ashes. The only thing that’ll be remembered is the legends of a man who did not exist, that is if people care to remember at all. And all the while the real story of Martin Murdock and his boys will continue to be forgotten by this town and history. “Kinda makes you wonder. Of all the things we hunted, how many existed just cuz’ people believed in them,” Sam ponders, the words swirling in the air and lingering like the smoke filling the sky.

“I’d rather not think of that one,” I mumble. Our ‘job’ was complicated enough, it didn’t need another layer. We didn’t need another thing to keep us up at night.

The boys had decided to make a stop to see Ed and Harry before leaving town. I’m not really sure why, I certainly would’ve gone on just fine without saying a farewell. But, atlast we sit at a picnic table in the trailer park, the boys in question walking over with very full grocery bags. “Man, I got the munchies right now,” Ed comments, talking to his friend. Then, his attention turns to us as they stop at the table, “Gentlemen. Gentlelady,” he nods, and I have the suspicion that if he were wearing a hat he would’ve tipped it at us.

“Hey guys,” Sam greets with a simple smile.

“Should we tell ‘em?” Harry asks Ed, stupid smiles on their faces.

“Hey, might as well, you know, they’re going to read about it in the trades,” Ed points out, chin raised.

“Yeah? What’s that?” I ask, looking up at them. I can’t imagine what they’re gonna say. “So, this morning we got a phone call from a very important Hollywood producer,” Harry tells us, pride dripping in his voice.

“Oh yeah, wrong number?” Dean remarks, ripping a laugh from my lips before I can stop it.

“No, smart-ass. He read all about the Hell House on our website and wants to option the morton picture rights. Maybe even have us write it,” Ed boasts, shoving the stuffed grocery bags into their stuffed car, their trailer hitched to the back. “And create the RPG,” Harry adds.

“The what?” Dean asks.

“Role playing game,” I answer. Dean's eyes turn to me, confusion written in his irises, “What?” I defend, “Can’t a girl know things?”

“You know the lingo,” Ed admires, hearts practically shining in his eyes, “Anyhoo, ahhh, excuse us, we’re off to la-la land.”

“Well, congratulations guys. That sounds really great,” Sam says.

“Yeah. That’s awesome, best of luck to you,” Dean adds. And it’s that that makes me suspicious. It didn’t seem like he had said it sarcastically and from how irritated they had made him I doubt he would mean such a thing sincerely. It’s fishy. “Oh yeah, luck. That has nothing to do with it. It’s about talent. Sheer unabashed talent,” Ed corrects, chest puffed out. I decide to keep my comments to myself, let them have their delusions.

They hop into the overfilled car and start pulling off, “See ya ‘round,” Ed says from out the window, “Call me!” he adds, finger gunning at me. I cringe but ultimately ignore it, I will not be calling him or thinking of them in any degree. “Wow,” Dean exhales, standing up.

“I have a confession to make,” Sam declares, standing up too, hands shoved in his pockets.

“What’d you do?” I ask, laughing.

“I, uh…I was the one that called them and told them I was a producer,” he confesses, a smile trying to pull on the corner of his lips. I can’t help but laugh. It’s certainly a cruel prank and yet so deserved. Dean laughs too, “Yeah, well I’m the one who put the dead fish in their back seat.” Sam joins in on the laughing too, it’s kind of hard not to with the ridiculousness of it all. “My god, you guys are evil,” I smile.

When the laughing dies down Sam says, “Truce?”

“Yeah truce,” Dean agrees, “At least for the next 100 miles.”

[sparkles-and-trash]

dabihawks silly, birdy fluff!

"Next week we're moving into the PLF mansion," Dabi said drowsily.

"The PLF mansion," Hawks repeated.

At first, Dabi figured Hawks' little habit was just a way to confirm intel. It was quite annoying, but the intel he got in return was good, so Dabi ignored it for the time being.

But then, as they moved into the PLF house and Hawks started being around more, Dabi realized it definitely wasn't an intel thing, and worse so, it seemed like he only did it with Dabi.

Dabi would say something like;

"Move over Pigeon, big ass wings don't give you the right to take up the entire couch."

And Hawks would chuckle and repeat;

"Big ass wings."

Dabi just rolled his eyes. It was just banter, after all, which was sort of their whole thing.

Until it wasn't.

The night had started out normal enough, just Dabi and Hawks being the last two to sit around the in one of the lounge rooms in the LOV part of the mansion, the casual vibe oddly disarming.

They're watching some stupid reality show on Sceptic's account (that he has no idea they have the password to), and Dabi, as usual, could not keep his mouth shut.

"You cannot tell me you think that guy is there to find someone to marry?!" Dabi exclaimed loudly as he gestured to the TV, and Hawks chuckled.

"Why else would he be there?" the hero asked,

and Dabi rolled his eyes.

"Fame and attention, obviously," he replied.

"Obviously," Hawks repeated and Dabi huffed.

They're quiet for a few moments again, just watching the show, before Hawks speaks up again.

"Why would people want fame and attention, anyways? It kinda really sucks, no?"

Dabi looks over at the hero for a while, trying to decipher if this is genuine or not.

"Thought you love your fans," Dabi says with a side eye, and Hawks shrugs.

"Most of them are nice, but I'd love to just be..." the hero trails off for a second.

"Just be?" Dabi asks, and Hawks nods.

"Just be."

Dabi cleared his throat to buy him some time before he figured out how to pry a little further.

"Maybe when we're all done here, you can," he finally says, and Hawks lights up at that.

"Maybe when we're done!" he repeats, and Dabi looks at him for an extra beat.

"Okay, what gives dude?" he finally asked.

Hawks just looked at him with those stupid, wide eyes.

"What gives?" he asked, and Dabi threw his hands out in frustration.

"Why the fuck do you always repeat something I say back to me?!"

The realization hit Hawks' face so suddenly it almost made Dabi feel bad.

Golden eyes widened, freckled cheeks blushed, and his pretty mouth fell open slightly, before he somewhat got himself together and and rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously.

"You've noticed that,

heh?" the blond awkwardly asked, and Dabi rolled his eyes.

"Kinda hard not to."

Hawks hummed, but didn't elaborate right away.

"It's... it's a bird thing, alright?" the hero finally admitted, and now it was Dabi's turn to be taken by surprise.

"A bird.. thing?" he asked.

Hawks nodded and chuckled awkwardly.

"Mimicking is like, a natural part of my brain?"

Dabi huffed.

"Then why do you only do it with me?" he asked, and Hawks sighed.

"Dude, I don't know, okay? It just happens."

Dabi looked at him suspiciously.

"I'm gonna google it," he finally decided, and Hawks laughed.

"Sure, do that Hot Stuff."

Hawks went back to watching their show, and Dabi googled. It was quiet for a while, before a smirk started growing on Dabi's face.

"Birdie," he said, getting the hero's attention.

"Hm?" the blond said, not looking away from the tv.

"Are you like... courting me?" Dabi asked with a grin, and Hawks whipped his head around to look at him.

"What?!" he squawked, and Dabi laughed.

"Mimicing is a way for birds show their potential mate that they find them interesting and -"

"It does NOT fucking say that!" Hawks gasped as he threw himself towards Dabi to grab his phone, but Dabi was quicker and moved away in time.

"Yes it fucking does!" Dabi laughed, not missing the way Hawks' face was turning very pink again where he was laying half way over Dabi's lap in his failed attempted at grabbing the phone.

"Well I am NOT courting you!" Hawks huffed as he sat up and pouted slightly, face growing redder by the second.

Dabi felt a weird warmth in his chest that he wasn't quite ready to decipher.

"That's a shame then, pretty bird," he said with a slightly softer smirk, and Hawks looked over at him with a mix of embarrassment and curiosity.

"Why?" he asked, still slightly pouting.

Dabi smiled.

"Maybe I'd be a little flattered by a traditional bird courting," he said with a shrug.

Hawks finally looked over at him properly again.

"Are you making fun of me?" he asked with a small smile.

Dabi laughed softly.

"Oh definetly," he said with a grin, and Hawks rolled his eyes.

"But... I also kinda mean it," Dabi added, and Hawks's face lit up slightly again.

"Good to know," he said in a failed attempt to sound chill, and Dabi chuckled as he moved a little close to the hero and brushed his hand up against his wing gently.

"Good to know," Hawks chirped back, and for once Dabi didn't find It annoying at all.

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

beautiful, what's your hurry? (Obey Me!)

A/N: Asmo time!! I really like this one, it's so sweet. Also, I'm obsessed with Asmo's bath, I need one :( But I hope you enjoy!!

Like a DUMBASS, I posted this without tagging anything at first 😭😭 That has now been fixed 💀💀

Pairing(s): Asmo x MC

Prompt(s): 5. Asmo

Summary: Holiday-themed bathtime with a much needed massage and some even more needed sweet kisses.

Tag(s): Fluff, flirtations, and a little bit of petting, but not heavy

Word Count: 731

Song Inspiration: Baby, It's Cold Outside, I listened to the Michael Bublé and Idina Menzel version while writing

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

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[Series Masterlist]

[Read on AO3]

[Author Masterlist]

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The mood is perfectly set. Dozens of holiday-themed candles placed and lit all over the stone and marble bathroom, the rest of the lights off. All kinds of pretty Christmas decor make the place feel extra festive and cozy. The soft, sweet aroma of sugar cookies and the earthy scent of pine mixed in the air for a wonderful combination. Bath water at the best temperature for both skin and relaxation. And the perfect centerpiece to bring it all together, the Avatar of Lust and his little lamb, looking more perfect than everything else combined.

Asmo leans back against the side of the tub, MC leaning back against his chest, melting in his arms as he eases the muscles of their shoulders, speaking sweetly to him the whole time.

“You look so pretty, sweetheart. Doesn’t that feel better?”

MC sighs contentedly. “So much better. Thank you, love.” They lean their head back enough to look up at him. “I’ll return the favor sometime soon.”

Asmo beams, kissing the top of their head. “I’ll definitely hold you to that. But tonight is for you. The others stress you out way too much, you know. It’s not good for any part of your physical or mental condition.” He takes a deep breath, a look of frustration crossing his face as he speaks. “You look your best when you’re fully relaxed, just like this. Bonus points when it’s with me.” He says with a wink.

MC giggles. “Well, they do say that family frustrates you more than anyone else.” They say with a shrug.

The demon huffs slightly. “That’s just stupid. But it’s not wrong either. My brothers are living proof of that.” He rolls his eyes at the mention of the other members of the household.

The human reaches up to place one of their hands over his affectionately, smiling. “Maybe so. But right now, it’s just us, with all the time in the world. I don’t want you getting all worked up now.” A pause, and then, “Not in that way, at least.”

Asmo chuckles. “Oh?” He leans forward and nuzzles against their cheek, one of his hands dropping to their waist. “Would you like me to be worked up in a different way, then?”

They turn their head just enough to nip his chin lightly. “Think you could handle me?” They purr playfully.

“Oh, I’ll do more than handle you, sweet one. I’ll devour you.” He rumbles, eyes glowing pink with his own sin. His hand slides down from their waist to their hip, slowly moving inward. His other hand slips out from under theirs and trails down their chest. “Only one chance to back out now.”

MC’s own eyes mirror Asmo’s, their pact mark glowing faintly. “Like that was ever even a thought. Do your worst, Asmodeus.” The taunt in their voice was clear and it worked like a charm.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Black spiked wings unfurl from his back and his pink-tipped horns sprout out from his head of wet hair.

MC turns in his arms to face him fully and reaches up to run the tip of their finger down one of his horns, then moving and doing the same to the side of one of his wings, a look of admiration on their face. “It never gets old, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.” They shake their head in disbelief. “Every time I see you like this, it’s just like the very first time. You’re so beautiful.”

Asmo’s face flushes at the compliment in a way it never does when anyone else says the exact same thing. With MC, those words actually mean something. And that’s why no matter how many times he hears it, it’ll always catch him off guard coming from their lips. “I know.” He says softly, quietly. Some might even call it shy.

MC grins, pressing their forehead to his. “I know you do. And that part about you is just as beautiful, too.”

The other can’t help but let out a small, happy squeal as he rushes forward into a kiss, crashing their lips together. He pours his love into them and they do the same in return. Locked in a tight embrace, the both of them stay in the bath long after it’s gone cold, neither of them ever even noticing the change in temperature.

~*~

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!! I'd love to hear what your thoughts!! I appreciate y'all so much <3 See you for tomorrow's story!!

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