#with deadly holy water

[ineffablerainstorm]

Now have you ever thought about what happened AFTER the bath? He can’t switch back with Crowley if there is still holy water on his clothes. And his skin….

Conclusion: Aziraphale had to shower as Crowley and you cannot convince me otherwise.

You ever think the whole "can I take the jacket off" was an excuse for Aziraphale to undress Crowley. He has never seen this much skin

[likeprongstostars]

what is ur demon james essentially allergic to like do u think reg spritzes him with holy water when bad

you know somewhere in my drafts i have the demon james origin story and there was a very similar idea to this so yes its canon. reg will spritz him with the evil bottle and james will hiss and stick to the ceiling where he is unreachable and he will probably sneeze funnily. im still not convinced if james is more of a demon or a hell spawn cat.

also i feel like he would have some very ironic allergy like pollen for example bc the signs of spring, rebirth and new life are too good and angelic and make him itch

[fishyfiles]

hey, Dagon...@michaelwiththegoodhair is threatening to make it rain Holy Water. Maybe try and talk them out of it?

You're - @michaelwiththegoodhair that seems a bit risky, does it have to be Holy Water?

[yanderenightmare]

Ryomen Sukuna

TW: suggestive noncon, threats, Sukuna in general

gn reader

Thinking about sorcerer ! reader – only instead of having a really offensive technique, it's purely defensive.

A power to pacify. Creating the ultimate stalemate. All attacks are nullified – people can’t even throw one measly punch your way.

– which obviously means you’re the ultimate babysitter for trigger-happy curses like Sukuna.

The only issue is…. you don’t at all behave in accordance with your technique. 

You are perhaps the most childish and bratty sorcerer he’s ever been forced to share air with. Even worse than that white-haired prick. Where with him – he could at least spar. But you? You just monitor him while making the most meaningless and ever-so-grating conversation.

“I read in an old book that you’re a cannibal.” You muse with a smile. Eyes vibrant with curiosity – playful even – as though the prospect of him eating human flesh shouldn’t be making your own skin run raw with goosebumps. “Is that true?” 

His brow raises at your eagerness. His mouth is a prim line before muttering an unenthusiastic. “Yes.”

“Really?” You jump. “Why? Does it taste good?”

It’s an awfully stupid question – he thinks with an ever-growing wrinkle furrowing his brows. But suppose explaining to you how it’s meant to strike fear into people’s hearts would only make you laugh.

He huffs.

“Tastes like meat.”

“Right~” You sing-song as though it was a satisfying answer – but then almost immediately add onto it. “So, like chicken or beef?” 

You really are such a nuisance, he thinks. Grumbling. “Pig.”

You hum – then smack your lips. And he feels another onset of annoyance – expecting another moronic query to come pouring gracelessly from your lips.

“You’re a little disappointing – you know that?” You say instead.

He picks his head up at that – finally looking back at you through the bars of his cell to where you sit opposite way on a chair – looking straight back at him, fearing no harm.

There are about a million seals covering the walls, keeping him trapped. Though you’d feel just as safe without them.

“I’d thought you’d have more to say, but…” You pout. “Turns out you’re just boring.”

His nose makes an offended scrunch – eyes narrowed. “Watch how you speak to me.”

You laugh – your chuckle in itself is something that makes the hairs at the back of his neck rise out of ire. That smug smile on your face enough to have his fists ball at his sides – and at the moment you lick your lips, saying, “Or what?” he’s already on his feet with his hands wrapped tight around the bars – knuckles turning white in his grip.

His skin sizzles from the cursed energy imbued in the metal – like holy water to a demon – and still, he doesn’t let go. Four eyes, blood red, glaring at you with a look that’s nothing short of deadly. If he could, you knew he’d have your heart in his hand forever ago. But the fact that he doesn’t – the fact that he can’t – only makes your grin ever sharper.

“Wow~” You tease. “Look at that face~” Giggling. “So scary~”

His nostrils flare as he releases the bars. Hands healed shortly after. “One of these days, brat – I’ll have you on your knees.”

You feign a gasp. “Sukuna~ so indecent~” Your grin lessens into a coy smirk. “To think the King of Curses is flirting with little ole me~” You bite your lip, looking kittenish – eyes amused while watching him recede into the dark of his cell.

You break from the act with another laugh.

Beginning anew. “I do have a question, though.”

“Naturally.” He mutters, stretching his arms – all four – one pair above his head and the other behind his back.

“Are you double-packed down there as well? The same with the rest of you? Or~”

His spine cracks between tensed shoulders – and you think, to be a thousand-year-old specter, he’s awfully easy to rile up.

But then he laughs – a throaty, low-tuned snicker that echoes against the cell walls. 

“As I said – one of these days…” He walks up to the bars again, his chin fitting through them. “You’ll find out.”

There’s another chuckle – his eyes slim with something that makes you feel naked. Suddenly flushed – smile gone – you watch him lick his lips.

“And to answer your next question, you insufferable brat.” 

You gulp.

“I think you’ll taste like peaches.”

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Alfie noticing that guys who are way younger than him (like Michael? John?) having a thing for reader, who is close to age to these young gentlemen but has only eyes for ol' man Alfie? Thoughts?

Near Deadly Sin

Alfie Solomons x F!Reader; fluff

AN: IM BAAAAACCCCKKK hello my loves it’s taking me forever to write again but I’m glad to be back. I miss you all and hope you all are doing well!!! MUAH - Mo

No. No this acidic flame burning between his ribs is not jealousy.

Not at all.

The embers stoked in his chest. The flames licking up his neck and around his ears. These are normal… manly… sensible reactions.

Alfie had been invited for ‘drinks’ with the Shelbys. He had refused adamantly, and was only coerced upon your promise to accompany him and to never. leave. his. sight. As if you would ever be far from him or out of his thunderous gaze. But as he is sitting across from Thomas and Arthur and Polly, he is regretting ever bringing you near this nonsense. This den of wolves and snakes. The murmurs of Thomas faded like the crackle of a radio as he focused in on John Shelby’s lustful gaze over you. With every sweep of his young and unbridled eyes and suck of his teeth, Alfie became more and more enraged. Not that you noticed. You didn’t notice John’s roving eyes or the quickening pulse of your husband next to you. You were content sipping the tea Polly served, making quiet conversation with Ada in the corner, holding a babbling Karl.

Alfie knew there was supposed to be a deal or something tonight. Or maybe an update on a job. Or something. It didn’t matter. Fuck the business. Fuck the Shelbys. Fuck John Shelby. Fuck it all. Standing quickly, pushing through the screaming pain of his back, Alfie grunts, “Darling get your coat. We’re done here.”

Your head spun, “Meyn Likht?”

“Up. Coat. Now. Cyril needs us.”

You press your lips in a firm line. Holding back your tongue from lashing at him for his impromptu exit. You knew what he actually meant. Thinking of Cyril was his code for indicating murderous intent that needed to be snuffed out immediately. You watch Alfie as you slip on your coat, going to Thomas to whisper something just out of your reach. Had you heard him, you would have heard the volcanic timber of his voice promise, “You control that little brother of yours Tommy yeah? It’s against holy law to look at another man’s wife like he been doing. Will have to go back to Mosaic law if he don’t shape up.”

With heavy stomps he approaches John, who is trying yet failing to keep a stone expression. “You keep them eyes to yourself little boy. Or someone may just take ‘em from you.”

“Darling? Cyril needs to be let out and will not wait for you!”

With a firm pat on the cheek Alfie turned away, gripping your waist firmly, hand as hot as a brand on the skin under your dress.

-

It’s late now, Alfie is fuming under the crisp sheets and thick quilts layered living on the soft bed. He’s pretending to read. Putting on his glasses and taking them back off again to stare at the ceiling. You emerge from the bathroom, face flush from the hot water, and hair pulled away from your bare shoulders. Arms crossed across your chest, you sit on Alfie’s side of the bed, “You want to talk about it like a grown up now?”

He huffs and shifts lower into the bed, as if to hide from you. With a shrug you walk back to your side, shuffling your sock feet across. You crawl back in bed, back to Alfie to let him fume. It was better than fighting with him to get him to share his feelings.

“He was looking at you.”

“Well Karl is a baby darling.”

“Not Karl! John fucking Shelby! Little bastard was undressing you with his eyes! And you said nothing!”

Ah… there it was.

You let yourself sit up to look at your husband’s face. Folded up into himself, glasses precariously balanced on his nose, cheeks ruddy from rage. Jealousy was his greatest sin and vice. Bigger than rage. Bigger than his love of rum. He was an only child and as such he grew into a man who did not like to share. Not even your image. You curled up next to him, like a cat preening for attention. “Meyn Likht… I didn’t even see him. You shouldn’t be jealous of a figure of vapor.”

“What you don’t notice the… the young men just staring at you? Gapped mouths like dead fish?”

“Those children?” You hum, gently kissing his scruffy jaw and temple.

“Those… men closer in age… to you.”

With that you crawl into his lap, looping your arms around his broad shoulders. “Darling… what could I do with those men? I’d break them.”

“Break them?” He chuckles, gripping you tighter.

“They’re too soft. Too pretty. No. I like my men… rougher… more sturdy… someone who can stand strong and not worry about their pretty face getting dirty. I like my old man.”

“Do you now?”

“Love him even. Deliriously in love with him. Couldn’t live without him.”

Before you could take another breath, he was on you, kissing all over your face, tickling you with his rough beard and mustache. “Good Lord woman you make me feel 20 again.”

[almadelsur]

❤️‍🔥 Crucifix

Linecook!Ash (No Exit) x Waitress!reader +18

Summary: How could you resist giving yourself to sin, when the devil himself is just so beautiful.

a/n: For the sweetest bestest @rae-gar-targaryen who’s Ash fic inspired me to write this. (Go check it out rn bc it’s truly a masterpiece)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .

You know Ash doesn’t have many friends. It doesn’t strike you as anything of concern when you see him huffing silently around the sweaty restaurant kitchen, a perfect picture of a shadow on a mission. Lots of people are introverted you tell yourself. Maybe it should have rung some alarm bells. Maybe it would have if his eyes didn’t hold dark alluring promises of sin, of that deadly pleasure you came to crave from him.

The first time you spoke to him it had been as if he had physically reached down into your lungs and robbed all the oxygen you had been holding, keeping it for himself. Greedy.

“Uh- table 9 are getting a little antsy” you stumble out the best you can, masking your nerves as frustration at the busy restaurant. And yet Ash just looks at you, studying as if he had all the time in the world.

“What’s your name?” The question is a simple command yet it leaves you fumbling your answer.

Ash just hums knowingly and hands you the plate, ready and prepped like he was waiting for you. His twisted game kicking off without you noticing the dark path you were about to barrel down. Looking like he could wreck your entire life without as much as lifting a finger. A roaring flame scorching over you until you’re reduced to nothing but-

“Ash.” He introduces himself and you swear you have never met anyone with a more fitting name.

A few months later and you’re hooked on him. He was good at that. It’s heady and unsettling just like he is, and yet you always succumb to the craving of him.

It goes as usual– you laying on your back beneath him, caged in and helpless to the relentless pleasure he draws out from you, the rhythmic push and drag stretching and burning and feeding.

You struggle to form a coherent thought in the heat of it all. All you can see is dark curls and smooth tan skin, and yet he’s sharper than ever. His gaze laser focused on each and every one of your features. The way your eyes water and- is that pleasure or fear that has you crying on his dick like that? He doesn’t think he’d want to know, he knows he wouldn’t care.

He has you tied up against your bedframe, arms stretched across like a crucifix, an image of penance. His very own sweet docile offering to a higher being for his sins. His eyes flicker to your tender chafing wrists and an image of a previous life flashes through his head– a fallen brother and a brunette with nails through her wrists. It only makes him more determined, increasing his pace and shuddering at the mantra of his name that falls past your lips.

He can’t get enough of you, he knows this when the familiar feeling of your legs begin to shake beneath him.

“Open your eyes.” he gruffs in your ear as one lethal hand comes up to grip at your hair. “Look at me.” he forces again when your fucked out brain fails to adhere to the command the first time.

When you manage to flutter your eyes open, his jaw grits.

You look at him like he’s a god. He knows the glossy gaze is prompted by the way his cockhead bullies your g-spot, but still he can’t bring himself to look away. The pure worship in your blurry eyes makes him want to lean down and lick at your tears.

He doesn’t.

The motion seems too soft, too comforting. And he doesn’t want that, he wants to hurt you. He knows you would let him too. The thought spurs him on to grab at your jaw and push into you hard and deep until your cried moans become silent and you snap, like holy water leaking all the way down to his thighs and onto the bed sheets.

When he himself is satisfied and spent, he collapses on top of you, your tied hands and heavy eyelids make it hard to console this moment as a loving one, but your mind silently wills it anyway. A warmth settling over you and pulling at your heartstrings for the man above you.

You fall asleep like that, with false feelings of security and the devil on top of you feeding into your fantasy. Keeping you hooked and placid.

And his.

[tossawary]

The visible camp and sleeping setups in Baldur's Gate 3 make no sense for many reasons, but the one I'm focused on now is... where did all of this stuff COME from?

Presumably there's some in-universe explanation about fully furnished tents that you can summon or a magical bag or whatever, but I don't particularly care, honestly. Handwaving the exact mechanics in favor of fun fic ideas.

It doesn't make much sense for all of the characters to have even magical camping gear at the ready, especially at the beginning of the game: Lae'zel was part of a larger force and may not have been in charge of supplies in any fashion, and Astarion is a city boy. As far as I can remember and understand it, Gale and Shadowheart are the magical ones, and Shadowheart is the only one between them who was actually intentionally traveling on a quest. Wyll and Karlach having camping gear, yes, I buy that (although it easily could have been wrecked by or lost during all the shit that they've been through), but you also meet them both a little later than the others.

It is FAR funnier to me to imagine the party, post-crash at the beginning, being absolutely WRECKED. Everyone is covered in mind flayer ship slime, blood, and ash. Shadowheart's eyeliner is dripping down her face and there are guts in her hair. Astarion when you first meet him is a MESS who tried to fix himself up after tripping into a river. Lae'zel is missing half her clothes, perhaps, due to the fighting on the ship earlier, and she's making the awkwardness everyone else's problem.

They have no food (Lae'zel suggested cannibalism as a joke, but no one could tell that it was a joke) and one water skin. Their armor and weapons are damaged or stolen. Everyone is resigned to sleeping in the dirt, because the only other option is sharing Shadowheart's ONE single-person tent and bedroll between them all. A cuddle pile seems like a potentially deadly option.

And then they all meet Gale. And I know that he's Mr. Stay In My House For A Year Post-Break-Up, so he doesn't really seem like a camping guy, but it's really funny to me to imagine everyone being Not Very Happy to have Gale joining them (his robes are actually cleanish somehow, what the fuck, that's not fair, fucking wizards), until he starts summoning plush furniture and cooking pots out of some pocket dimension and heating water for people so they can wash their hair. And he COOKS. Holy shit. Everyone's favorite party member immediately.

Yes, it is revealed later on all of the (possibly dubiously real) tents and luxurious cushions and blankets and mirrors and atmospheric magical torches that Gale is summoning WERE all part of former magical romantic fuck-pads from his days with Mystra, so there is a non-zero chance that Gale fucked or got fucked by a goddess on every single piece of furniture in the camp. ("They're CLEAN!" Gale insists. "I WASHED THEM.") But at that point no one is willing to give up their throw pillows or sexy furs or the bathtub that could fit two people, so they all just live with it.

[agoodflyting]

Good Omens Historical Trivia That's Haunting Me Today...

So we all know A.Z. Fell & Co is located on the fictitious Whickber Street in Soho and was established in 1800.

Aziraphale has run the shop ever since then and was in contact with Crowley at least until the 1820's when they took their little jaunt to Edinburgh and Crowley got sucked down the tube slide to Hell. They meet up again no later than the 1860's, when Crowley asks for Holy Water.

Stands to reason that between the 1820's and 1860's Aziraphale was in Soho doing Aziraphale things. Running his bookshop. Eating tiny cakes

Yeah... you know what else was going on in Soho during that time?

The worst cholera epidemic in London history.

If you don't know, cholera is a deadly bacterial infection caused by drinking contaminated water. Prior to the 1850's humans weren't really sure what caused cholera, but they knew it was terrifying and also that it was absolutely epidemic in big cities.

TW: this is gross - The main symptoms of cholera are agonizing stomach pain and non-stop watery diarrhea, eventually leading to the skin turning blue due to the thickening of blood from severe dehydration. Patients can lose more than 20% of their body weight in hours as they quite literally evacuate every drop of water in their bodies until they die of heart failure. - OK gross part over

Cholera symptoms show up as short as 5 hours after infection and could kill within as little as 12 hours. Cholera was especially terrifying because of how quickly and painfully it killed you, and because the patient maintained mental clarity up until the point of death. More than half of the people who contracted cholera died within a few days after consuming the bacteria-contaminated water.

And guess what water had cholera bacteria in it?

The public water pump on Broad Street in Soho in August of 1854

And this wasn't one of those epidemics that starts slowly and drags on. It hit like a bomb. It killed 600 Soho residents in ten days.

That's roughly 60 people a day in a 3-4 block area. Most of them died at home because the disease struck too quickly for them to to make it to a hospital. Survivors described hearses stacked with coffins 4-5 high going down the street nonstop all day long during the outbreak. Entire families were wiped out overnight.

What does that have to do with Good Omens?

Aziraphale's book shop was right in the epicenter of this outbreak.

Neil Gaiman has been pretty free about the fact that Whickber Street is a thinly veiled expy of the real Berwick Street in Soho.

This is a famous map showing the 1854 Soho Cholera epidemic. I highlighted Berwick Street and the public water pump that was the center of the contagion. The black bars (I circled a few in blue) on the map designate deaths. The thicker the black bar, the more people died in that particular house.

51 people died the week of the cholera outbreak on Aziraphale's Street alone.

Cholera was one of those diseases that provoked a lot of panic, not just because of how fast and painful it was, but because of the way it didn't follow common conventions about class or age. Children died while the elderly survived (often because the elderly had no one to gather water for them). Lower class houses were spared while their middle class landlords died. Churches were packed that week, because people in Soho had no idea who would get sick next. The epidemic pretty much burned itself out in a week and a half, since by that point everyone who drank the water had already died. I have to wonder what our resident Angel was up to during that time. Obviously cholera can't hurt him, but that's his neighborhood. There's no way hundreds of people, including entire families with children, are dying painfully in his neighborhood and Aziraphale doesn't notice. That means that in between this scene:

And this one:

Aziraphale would have watched one of the worst disease outbreaks in London history play out right outside his front door. I feel like there's great potential for a good story there if anyone better than me wants to write it.

[forbidden-sorcery]

The devastation of nuclear colonialism, which permanently destroys Indigenous communities throughout the world, is outright ignored by some of the most devout climate justice advocates. They claim nuclear energy production is also a green solution to the climate crisis. More than 15,000 abandoned uranium mines are located within the so-called US, mostly in and around Indigenous communities, permanently poisoning sacred lands and waters with little to no action being taken to clean up their deadly toxic legacy. There are currently ninety-three operating nuclear reactors in the so-called US that supply 20% of the country’s electricity. There are 60,000 tons of highly radioactive spent nuclear waste stored in concrete dams at nuclear power plants throughout the country with the waste increasing at a rate of 2,000 tons per year. In 1987 the “US” Congress initiated a controversial project to transport and store almost all of the US’s toxic waste at Yucca Mountain located about 100 miles northwest of so-called Las Vegas, Nevada. Yucca Mountain has been held holy to the Paiute and Western Shoshone Nations since time immemorial. In January 2010 the Obama administration approved a $54 billion taxpayer loan in a guarantee program for new nuclear reactor construction, three times what Bush previously promised in 2005. In April 2022, the Biden administration announced a $6 billion government bailout to “rescue” nuclear power plants at risk of closing. A colonial government representative stated, “US nuclear power plants contribute more than half of our carbon-free electricity, and President Biden is committed to keeping these plants active to reach our clean energy goals.” They, along with Climate Justice activists cite nuclear energy as necessary to combat global warming, all while ignoring the devastating permanent impacts Indigenous Peoples have faced. There is nothing clean about energy produced from nuclear colonialism. From its weapons (including depleted uranium) to its mining and its waste; Indigenous bodies, lands, and waters continue to be sacrificed to heat water with radioactive materials which creates steam that moves generators to charge batteries made from lithium extracted from other Indigenous sacred lands so Teslas can move you forward into a “just” climate future. A green economy sustains and advances colonial progress, which means mitigated selective and ongoing destruction of Mother Earth.

Klee Benally - No Spiritual Surrender: Indigenous Anarchy In Defense of the Sacred

[viasdreams]

Nightwalker ཐི❤︎ཋྀ ~ chugged a thing of toilet bowl cleaner

you stared intently at the bottle of everclear as you, sloppily, attempted to pour another shot for you and hyuck. three shots in and you were starting to really regret your choice of vodka. you thought that maybe it would be strong enough to get hyuck drunk, but apparently, 95% abv means nothing to vampires.

"why do you keep taking these with me if they don't do shit?" you asked as you handed him his shot.

"because i'd feel bad if you had to endure this poison yourself" hyuck chucked from across the bed.

the space between you felt as expansive as a canyon, the distance seeming to only grow with each shot.

"wait that's so sweet of you," you smiled at him, raising your shot to cheers him.

he hmmed in acknowledgment, bringing the glass to his lips and shooting the shot with ease. meanwhile, you gagged into your chaser. (which was water because, as hyuck put it, you don't really go to the grocery store to buy drinks when your food comes from the cashier)

as the night continued, so did the shots. four shots in and the car crashes were starting to hurt your head.

"hyuckie can we please turn this off, i feel like one of the victims right now" you slurred out.

"shit, yeah of course," he ran his hands across the sheets for the remote, eventually figuring out that he had been sitting on it.

"do you want more water? or i could doordash you some food?"

you slowly shook your head, closing your eyes.

"no, i think i just need to lie down"

"yeah do whatever you need, i have more blankets in the-"

his sentence was cut off as you crawled over to him, laying your head in his lap. maybe everclear actually was a good choice because you never would have done that if you were sober.

"um yn?" hyuck awkwardly mumbled.

"hmm?" you peeked open one eye, looking up at him.

"the pillow is over there" he gestured to the headboard.

thankfully, the vodka didn't fully cloud your judgment and you were able to clock the nervousness in his tone.

"oh sorry hyuck, i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." you started to sit up when you felt two hands push you back down.

confused you looked at him to gauge what was happening, but he refused to meet your gaze, looking at the ceiling.

"no it's ok you can," he slowly brought his eyes to your, "you can stay there."

a smile spread across your face as you relaxed into him.

the two of you stayed like this for a while, hyuck gently playing with your hair as you lay. just as he was about to lay down too, you quickly sat up with a gasp.

"HOLY SHIT!" you exclaimed, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking.

"what? what happened?" hyuck questioned you, his voice coated in concern.

"SUCK MY BLOOD!"

"w-" he stared at you, very much taken aback, "what?"

"SUCK MY BLOOD HYUCKIE!" you shook him with more vigor.

hyuck grabbed your hands, bringing them in front of you to keep you still.

"why are you asking me to do that yn?"

"the alcohol in my blood hyuck! it will get you crunk!" now shaking his hands in excitement.

when laying in hyuck's lap, the fact that he couldn't be drunk with you consumed your thoughts. you wanted him to experience what you were feeling, and that's when it dawned on you.

"yn im not going to hurt you like that just to get a little tipsy. plus i don't even know if it works like that."

"then let's try." you pulled your shirt to the side exposing your neck fully.

hyuck could feel two things, his fangs coming in, and the intense hunger bubbling in his stomach. it had been a bit since he had eaten, and that combined with the fact that you're the one offering him blood, created a deadly combo for him.

"i don't want to hurt you though," despite his words, he slowly leaned towards you. "what if i take too much?"

"i know you won't, i trust you hyuckie," and despite your words, you scrunched your eyes shut, scared to be awake while this was happening.

your sent overtook his senses, drawing him in.

you could feel his breath getting closer, his hands cupping your face.

you attempted to tilt your head to the side to give him better access, but he held you in place.

both of you knew that your heart was racing. you did your best to calm yourself but to no avail.

"just breathe okay?" he whispered onto your skin.

"o-"

before you could finish, you felt hyuck's lips on yours.

the kiss was soft, you could feel him trying not to press his fangs against you. he didn't move, just held his lips against yours, waiting for you to react.

you, rather clumsily, pushed back against him. his lips were cold and you desperately wanted to warm them up.

however, he pulled back before you could, laughing as he brought his forehead to yours.

"why did you do that?" you asked, the reality of what just happened hitting you.

"i told you, i don't drink human blood." he leaned back onto his palms, shrugging. "i appreciate the offer though, ill have to ask the guys if drinking drunk people's blood works. if so, i might give a chicken a bloody mary because hyuckie needs a drink."

"but why did you stop kissing me?" you asked, half because you really wanted him to do it again, and half because you were scared he thought you were a bad kisser.

he glanced over at the half-drained handle of everclear, "i don't think right now is the best time to be doing that."

"but," you protested.

"i'll kiss you again in the morning when you're sober yeah? i want to make sure you actually remember it."

you could feel your cheeks heat up. why was he so smooth? this was not the same loser (said lovingly) from the bookstore, not that you were complaining.

"yeah okay."

he patted your thigh and headed to the door. "im going to sleep on the couch. the bathroom is down the hall to the left, if you don't make it to the toilet, please puke on jaemin's stuff. wake me up if you need anything."

"hyuck wait!" you practically yelled at him as he left the room.

"what's up?"

"goodnight."

you could barely make out his smile in the dark.

"goodnight yn."

you in fact, did not make it to the toilet. now you were walking aimlessly through the hallway, looking for anything to clean off the vomit-coated hairbrush you were holding, which you really hoped belonged to jaemin.

"yn?"

you jumped, almost dropping the hairbrush.

"is that my hairbrush?"

thank god you puked on the right one.

"oh hey jaemin, why are you up so early?" you tried to direct the attention away from the brush.

"im just going for a run, you don't look this good at 418 years old by sitting on your bum." he shook his butt a little at that last part.

"bum?"

"i spent some time in england, picked it up."

"cool, well i dont want to keep you from your run, so bye." you picked up the brush and rushed back to the bathroom.

"yn wait, can i say something?" his tone reeked of remorse.

against your better judgment, you agreed. after what hyuck told you, weren't the biggest fan of jaemin but you did puke on his stuff. the least you could do was hear him out.

he took in an excessively long breath.

"look, im really sorry. im sorry for lying to you, for hurting you, and for just being an asshole. i have a lot of issues i'm dealing with right now, but i shouldn't have brought you into that. i was so focused on getting your blood for hyuck, that i forgot to think of you. you didn't deserve that. i'm really sorry."

he said all of that in one breath, making it extremely hard to keep up with his words.

"wait jaemin, you were getting my blood for hyuck?"

"yeah he asked me to help curve his cravings for your blood, but nothing was working so i started taking from you."

"so he was drinking my blood? when you took my blood, he was the one drinking it?"

jaemin gave you a confused expression.

"yeah? did he not tell you that?"

he did not.

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[watsittoyah]

The Devil's Playpen

A Obsessive!QIMIR X BLACK!FEMALE OC STAR WARS SMUT FIC

This is complete fiction, I do not own any characters of the star wars franchise however I own all characters of my own creation, as well as plot.

That being said, the themes will be dark, Qimir will have obsessive and possessive qualities. This story will be borderline grey morals, there will be trigger warnings in the beginning of every chapter that will be gruesome/sexual.

You’ve been warned little flower if you’d like to continue, please read forward, if not put this work of fiction down and go read the holy word…welcome to the Devils playpen…

Chapter 2) Fear Is Only A Four Letter Word

(Song: All Mine By Plaza)

Warning: Mutual masturbation, Mentions of suicide, Rough oral sex (male receiving), Self pleasure, back door eating (HE EATING GOOD TONIGHT LADIES!)

Previous

I can feel my mothers tears on my face as she hugs me.

“Mother I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-” I smell her burning flesh instantly and I want to vomit. When her now lifeless body falls against me, I see the figure who took her from me.

The figure was always Zen, but this time it’s…

“Qimir.” I wake up with a jolt and I’m no longer tied up in ropes. Instead I’m in a bed under a soft quilt.

I mentally curse my body because that means Qimir had to had touch me to get me into this bed.

A missed kill opportunity.

I go to get up, but I pause because I feel eyes on me.

I think fast about a weapon and he must’ve known what I was thinking because he says something that makes my skin crawl.

“You know looking for weapons won’t help you. I can always take it from you.” I cut my eyes at him. “So you want to come close to me or should I just come to you? Because the moment I get a weapon I’m going to-” He raises his hand to me and I become lifted in the air.

My throat is now in his hand and he looks me deep into my eyes. “Such a deadly little flower.” I can’t move. I can barely move my fingers and toes.

Of course he’s a force user.

“I hate you.” I hiss at him. “You hate me now, but you’ll learn to think otherwise, little flower…you know you talk in your sleep. Did your mother-”

“DON’T TALK ABOUT HER! SHUT UP!” I scream as I try to force my body to move. He looks at me with a smile crawling across his lips.

“You see you have this…” He squeezes my throat tighter, cutting off my air a bit. “…look in your eyes. It says you want to murder me. But that’s going to be difficult since I have the upper hand here.”

I start to feel my left side and before he can notice I bring my hand up and rake my nails across his face. He drops me instantly and I take a deep breathe.

I then take off running.

I’ll kill him and then I’ll get out of here.

First I need to find an exit, then maybe I can lure him out and then handle him.

I take a left and I can smell him not too far behind me.

He’s fucking gaining on me.

I take a right and halt around a corner. I press myself firmly against the wall and listen out for him. “You can’t run far, Akasha. I won’t let you leave this place. You’re not leaving me….” I heard him say as he stalks down the hall looking for me.

Once the coast is clear I take off down the hall in the opposite direction. I feel cold air drifting in from a room so I run inside and I see the light from outside.

I run faster and just when I feel like I have my freedom…

…I see that we’re on a high cliff.

I stop short and I see nothing but rocks and water as far as I could see. My legs give up from under me and I fall to my knees. I don’t even care that they’ll bruise.

I…I can’t stay here. I need to escape, I need to get my freedom back.

Before I know it, I’m walking down the halls, thinking about what I can do. How I can get off this fucking island.

How do I get this crazy son of a bitch to let me go?

You play the role he wants, tell him all he needs to hear and when the coast is clear, find a safe exit and slit his throat from ear to ear.

I smile to myself as I walk back to the bedroom and I make sure I play my roll well.

Don’t give in too easily, he will be suspicious. Be the cat in this mouse trap, Akasha.

I kneel in the middle of the room with my eyes closed listening for his panicked footsteps. His scent makes it to me before his presence does. I then hear him enter the room and I remain still.

“Look at my little flower, rooted where she belongs.” He says standing in front of me. I open my eyes and look at him, pretending I’m bored.

“Oh, you’re back?” He narrows his eyes at me and he grabs me by my upper arm. “Ouch!” I fake to him. He seems to like my plea because he squeezes harder. “I need to show you something. But you need to promise me you won’t try to run off again. Because if you do, I will leave you with a permanent scar on this intoxicating body of yours.” He says as he drags me off.

I give just enough resistance to make him think I’m going to fight him, but I follow along side him.

••••

Once we’re outside, I take in my surroundings and Qimir’s grip on my arm loosens but only by a fraction. “I am going to teach you how to concur your fear. But first you must address it.”

He lets me go and while he keeps his eyes on me, he goes into a bag that was outside and he pulls out a different light saber. I take a step back from him and he stands in front of me.

He points the handle my direction, motioning me to take it. But I don’t move a muscle. “Akasha, take it.” I shake my head. “No.” I tell him, not looking away from the light saber.

Suddenly I’m back into the bad place. I’m watching as the Jedi slaughter everyone and I’m trying my best to help mother escape.

Children’s lives were being snuffed out. Men are being brought to their knees. The few women we had left…all begging for mercy.

And what breaks my people apart is the slash and stabs of light sabers brought on by monsters who say they are the good guys.

When I blink, I’m not there. I have to remind myself that I am in the present and that I can’t get hurt. I live on for my people. I live on so I can get revenge for them.

Qimir, takes the Saber and puts it in my hand but I jerk away and snatch my hands back. “No! What are you trying to prove? I’m weak because of this stupid weapon? You win!” I yell at him.

“No, I’m showing you that you’re stronger than your demons. This fear? It hold you back from your full potential. Now take it!” He thrusts the saber into my hands and in an angered rush I snap on him.

I point the saber to his chest, in hopes that it will light up and kill him. But when I see his eyes soften, I get frustrated. I can’t help but go to hit him with my bare hands. He moves quick as he sees what I’m about to do.

He keeps my hands on the saber handle and he looks me in my eyes, with sadness.

I want to scratch his eyes out, how dare he look at me like that?

“Do you feel that, Akasha?” He squeezes my hands tightly and I want to scream. I want to throw a tantrum. He’s looking at me with pity. I’ll show him pity.

“Below the surface of consciousness are powerful emotions. Anger…fear, loss…desire.” When he says desire he looks down at my lips and then back up into my eyes. “T…that’s the path to the dark side.” I tell him, smelling his want and need.

Don’t lost focus, keep the anger. Keep the hate and make sure you attack. I tell myself.

He’s pitying you.

Don’t let him win.

“Semantics.” He says in a whisper. “What do you desire in this very moment, Akasha? Revenge for your people? Taking my life? Or deep down you have the desire to unlock your potential, in a way that I know is a guarantee?”

He flicks the saber from my grasp and it clatters to the ground.

His arousal is unmistakable as it’s starting to suffocate me.

The urge to bite him is strong.

I look away from his eyes and I stare at his lips, his tongue emerges and licks. I remember those lips suckling my clit, I remember his tongue worshiping my pussy.

My thighs clench with desire and I try to pull away but he pins me still with his hungered stare. He leans in close to my ear and he rubs his nose against my skin.

“I can smell how wet you are, Akasha. My desire, in this very moment is to bury my face between those delicious thick thighs of your and partake of that sweet pussy just like I did yesterday. Will you let me do that? Will you let me taste you again?”

A chill runs down my spine as I feel his cock pressed against my stomach. I choke back a moan as my clit throbs.

I want him to touch me.

Taste me.

I want him to lick me till my juices drip down his handsome face.

He flicks his tongue against my earlobe and I let out a small gasp. “Come with me, you haven’t bathed since yesterday and I’m sure you’d like that.” I’d like to sit on this man’s face, but before I could protest he tugs me along by my hands and makes me follow him.

We get to a calm little pond and he lets my hands go and starts walking towards the water.

I watch him pull off his shirt and on his back, I see an ugly scar. It practically took over seventy-five percent of his back. Curiosity bites and I want to know how he got it.

He looks back at me and his eyes travel up and down my body. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

That question, stalls all of my logical thinking and I start pulling off articles of clothing and I follow him into the water.

We’re both completely naked and the cool feeling of the water on my skin feels good to my tense muscles. I watch as he dunks his entire body into the water and I watch for him to break the surface.

Instead I feel his hands on my body and I almost jerk away from surprise, but I still my movements. “You have such pretty brown skin, little flower.” Qimir says as he holds me from behind.

He dips his head low and I feel his teeth graze against my neck. I feel his very erect cock brushing against my lower back and I bite my bottom lip as I reach around and grab a hold of him. He lets out a hiss as I stroke him slowly.

“Is this part of my training, Master?” I feel his muscles tense as I call him that and I know it pleases him by the way he leaves kisses against my neck.

“It’s definitely part of your training. Though I should punish you for running away from me.”

“But I did come back.” I challenge as I rub my thumb against the head of his cock. I hear a groan in his throat and I feel my clit throb. “You did come back to me, like a good girl. So I guess I can reward you a little and make this a lesson at the same time.”

He then cups my breasts and I let out a moan as he rolls my nipples between his fingers. I lean my head back against his chest and he takes the opportunity and sucks my neck. I feel a slight pinch and I know he’s left a mark. “You know one of the many reasons why I chose to keep you, little flower is because you’ve suffered loss. And you’re free from so many things…”

He pulls me back gently towards a large rock in the water and I follow. The water is now only covering up to his lower thigh and my higher thighs. He then leans me against the rock and cages me in with his arms.

I look from his eyes and down to his bare chest. My split tongue makes an appearance which causes him to suck in his breath. My eyes go further down and they widen.

I know what I was touching in the water but holy mother of Venus he’s huge. I look away but he stops me by holding me by my chin. “You were just touching it seconds ago, don’t be afraid of it now…this will be your reward amongst other things, little flower.” He guides my hand down to his hard cock and when I grip it he bites his bottom lip.

“I know I don’t need to teach you on how to pleasure someone, but I want to see how you pleasure yourself, show me what you do on those lonely nights.”

It’s like I’m under his spell, because I then guide my own hand down to my pussy. I rub my lips together and my eyes flutter closed. “No, no, no. I want to watch those pretty grey eyes while you pleasure the both of us.” He growls as he guides my hand up and down on his thick cock.

My eyes open wide when I see him hike up my legs so that I’m in front of him but spread more apart. As I pleasure myself I stroke him with a more firm grasp. “Just like that. Stroke me as if I’m inside of that pretty pussy of yours.” He moans as he watches my fingers rub my clit. I was watching myself stroke him and I see the bead of precum ball at the tip. I had the urge to use my tongues to lick it up and twirl it around the head.

When we both look up at each other he presses his full lips against mine and it gave me a chill. Because it felt like we were meant to kiss…to touch…to be intimate.

I’m as crazy as he is.

I twirl my tongues against his and he rocks his hips faster, as he stokes himself in my hand. I stop focusing on myself and I just use both of my hands to stoke him while rubbing the head against my pulsating clit.

He sucks my tongues and bites my bottom lip. I hear a suck when he releases my lips and I know they’re swollen from the assault.

Qimir’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels the tip slide inside of me. I start to go further but he stops me. “No, you ran from me earlier. You don’t get to feel my cock inside of you just yet. But don’t worry, I’ll let you cum this time. Now make yourself cum with just the tip of my cock. I want your juices dripping against this rock.” He holds my legs further apart and I let out a moan with some gibberish of my native tongue from the added pleasure.

I stroke him against my clit and I bite my lips, moaning, and internally wanting him inside of me. “Master…please just let me slide it in. I want your cock inside of my pussy. I want to make you feel good too.”

He allows only the head to go in again and then he stops. “If you hadn’t ran, Akasha I’d be balls deep inside of you. But you have to learn the consequences of your actions. Now let me watch you cum with just the tip.” He groans as he leans in and bites the same spot he had earlier on my neck.

“Fuck…” I moan as I stroke him faster between my pussy lips. “Mmm, that colorful language. I really like when you use your words to let me know you’re enjoying yourself….I might not have my cock inside of you right now. But it will be inside of you soon.” He licks my bottom lip and I rock my hips now, just to feel more friction.

I move my face and moan that I’m gonna come soon, which only makes him stoke against me faster. “Cum on the head of this cock, little flower. I need to watch you cum.” He moans against my open mouth.

I groan and whimper as I feel my lips clutch on the head of his cock. I stop and feel my juices drip down my lips and onto the shaft of his cock.

I try to catch my breath but he doesn’t give me a second of rest. He moves me up on the rock and flips me over so that my stomach was lying on the cold hard rock.

“Now I get my release.” The snakes in my stomach were tumbling and toiling around as I wait with anticipation of him, fucking me from behind. But instead I feel him move me to my knees and I feel his tongue lap up at my already sensitive clit.

“Ah…t…too much, master.” I moan as I claw at the rock. He gives a firm slap to my ass, before he parts it. “You can take it. I know you can.” He assaults me with his tongue on my clit and my back arches as I squirm trying to get away.

“There you go, running again. Now stay still.” He gives a firm order and my body, does what it’s told.

He slides his tongue inside of me and I feel his nose graze the bud of my ass, which causes me to groan in pleasure.

This bastard is going to ruin me before I can even slit his throat.

I move my hips but he slaps my parted ass, more firmly. “Don’t…move.” He says between licks. I let out a moan in response and feel him slurp and suck my lips.

Just when I think he’s about to let up, he grips my ass and he licks from the tip of my clit all the way to the bud of my ass.

The noise coming from my throat sounded animalistic.

He slips his tongue in and I look back at him. He had his eyes shut but I can tell he was in utter bliss. I feel his fingers stroking my inner walls and I jerk close to an orgasm.

If my nails could dig deeper into the rock I’m sure I would’ve broke chunks of it off.

“Master, Massssster I’m gonna come. I’m gonna-” He spits and slurps it up and I lose it.

I feel myself squirm and squirt all at the same time.

I don’t care that he said don’t move. I move my hips and I rub my ass and pussy in his face so I can ride out the orgasm.

He then holds me firmly still and he gives a hard suck to my aching clit. I jerk one more time and in an embarrassing motion, I hit my head on the rock and I pass out…

••••

I wake up to the smell of something in the air and I’m back in the bed when I open my eyes. The gears in my head start to spin when I realize, Qimir is either sleeping on some floor or chair. Or he’s sleeping in the very bed I’m in.

I quickly get out of the bed and I see I’m wearing one of his t-shirts. It comes just past my knees and yet I still feel exposed. I follow the smell and find him shirtless in what looks like a kitchen.

I look at the scar on his back and the curiosity comes back to my mind. How did he get that scar?

Who hurt him?

For a split second I feel anger in my stomach knowing someone had hurt him.

No, stop.

I don’t care that someone had hurt him. Right, I don’t care.

Yet, I walk a bit further and I reach out, letting my finger tips brush against him. His body tenses and when he turns, I see something menacing in his eyes. I snatch my hand back and he quickly switches.

“Someone’s finally awake. Are you hungry?” Before I can protest, my stomach gives me away. He gives a smirk at the sound motions for me to sit at the table. I hesitate slightly and he stares me down. “Akasha, sit.” He says in a gentle yet steady voice.

I go sit down and he brings over to me, a bowl of some sort of broth. I look at it questioning if I should eat it.

“It’s not poison, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Qimir says as he pulls up a chair. “Are you sure?”

“If I wanted to kill you, it would’ve been when I had you in the alleyway.” Fair point.

I stir the broth with the spoon provided and I bring it to my lips. I sniff the air and the broth doesn’t have any off odors. But you can mask a poison with other ingredients.

I bring the spoon to my lips and from the corner of my eye I see him, watching me. Waiting for me to taste. I let the liquid hit my tongues and I glance at him.

“It’s good.” I tell him as I take another spoon fool. The broth had chunks of meat in it as well as some grains.

He seems to relax after watching me eat and he begins to eat his meal as well.

We eat in silence for a while. The only sound you hear is just spoons scraping bowls and slurping from lips.

I glance at Qimir and I see him licking his spoon and lips. My brain stutters as I remember what those lips and tongue has done to me in the last twenty-four hours and the broth goes down the wrong way.

I choke on the broth and he gets up to help me. But I jerk away from him and I fall out my chair. I manage to choke down the broth and he was crouched down in front of me.

“Even after the intimate moments we had, and you’re still not willing to let me touch you.” He says with a hint of hurt in his voice. “I don’t trust you, Quimir. Is that even your real name?”

He nods and clenched his jaw. “You don’t trust me yet hours ago you trusted me enough to have my face buried in placed on your body intimately. This flower just gets more and more interesting. And as far as my name, I chose it so it’s my name.”

He cocks his head to the side as he stares at my neck. He gives a smirk and I raise my hands to the tender spot. “That mark I left…there’s no mistake that you belong to me. But I’m sure you’ll learn when I leave more marks on you.” He stands up and offers his hand to me but I ignore it and stand on my own.

I walk past him and sit down at the table, no longer hungry. Just feeling licked with anger.

“If you’re done eating then let’s get started on your first lesson. The lesson at hand is admitting your fear.” I feel as if ice cold water was poured over me and I feel exposed.

My eyes look around before anything else and I see he has a saber in his hand. I go to get up but he stops me with a look. “Sit still and don’t you fucking move.”

I don’t even look at him. My eyes on trained on the saber. “Why are you afraid of an object that has no power unless wielded? Why does fear have you by the throat like this, Akasha?”

Qimir walks around the table towards me but again I only stare at the saber. “If you want to kill me with the saber. Just do it. Stop taunting me.” I finally look up at him and he was gazing at me.

“The fight in your eyes lets me know you’re not hopeless. Now why are you afraid or a light saber? Did a Jedi do something to you?” I stare him, unanswering. “Your people?” My eye twitches and he gives a chuckle.

“Genocide is funny to you?” I narrow my eyes accusing him. “No, what’s funny is your anger gives you away. Clearly the Jedi have wronged you but they left such a deep scar on your life that fear has you by a choke hold. I want to help you break that fear.”

“Why? Why is this important to you?”

“Because, what I desire is a partner of equal standing. And I’ve looked for many years. You…you have the potential. But this fear is holding you back and I want to help. Will you let me?” He asks as he towers over me.

I swallow hard and I look down at the saber. “How can you help me? How can you help me heal these scars?” He lifts my chin so that I’m looking up at him. “Not heal them, embrace those scars. Come with me.” He tugs me up from my seat and he leads me to another room.

When we get to this room, I notice the walls have many scratch marks all over them. Qimir stops which makes me do the same as well. “You seem to fear the saber because you see it as a reminder of the terrible events in your life. But instead of freezing with fear, you should concentrate on using that fear to paralyze your enemies.”

I watch as he walks over to a metal box. My first thought is that he’s going to grab another saber, but instead he takes out a metal helmet. It looked homemade and had a creepy smile adoring it. “This is made of Cortosis. It destabilizes light sabers and…it’s also a device they would use on younglings.”

My eyes cut to him. “You were a Jedi?” He nods and I bare my teeth at him. “I knew something was wrong with you! You’re like them! You’re a murderer! Just like them!” I yell as I back away from him. He raises his hand and I get yanked over to him.

“I was a Jedi, and as far as a murderer, I only killed the people who wronged me. I was never on your planet when the erasing happened. I…am what they call, a Sith. I’m telling you all of this because I need you to trust me in order for this training to be a success, Akasha.”

He hands me the helmet and it has some weight to it.

I could smash him across his face, hit him over and over until his skull is caved in and I could be rid of him. But I can’t do that. I don’t even have a way off this island…which means he had to had brought me here on a ship.

But where is the ship?

“What do you want me to do with this? Eat it?” I ask in a sarcastic manner. He rolls his eyes at me and clears his throat. “Put it on, you need to refocus your mind and let yourself be one with the force.” I give him a scowl. “But I’m not force sensitive.”

He shakes his head. “Yes you are, Akasha. I had you under my control earlier but you had managed to get out of my hold. You were most likely force sensitive as a child but no one trained you. Now put the helmet on.”

“After I do, what will you do to me?” I ask as I look down at the frozen smiling face. “I won’t do anything that you won’t like. I promise.” I don’t trust him, but in order to get my way I need to play along. So I put the helmet on and it’s a bit claustrophobic. All I can really hear is my own breathing. “What now…Master?”

I can feel him behind me. Holding my hips in place as he presses his front to my back. “Now close your eyes. Your eyes can deceive you. You must not trust them. Breathe….connect with the force, Akasha. Think of those moments where you’ve had peace. Grasp those moments and use that to connect you.”

A thought bubbles up in my head. A thought I haven’t had since I was a little girl. It was the day my mother had gave me my youth marks.

I remember the day. I was both excited and anxious. I had asked the great grandmother about how the process is done. And she told me that I was suppose to drink a warm liquid that would have me in a limbo state, and then the great grandmother would take red ink, a poking stick and a stone and give me my youth marks.

I still remember my mother holding my hand when the first poke pierced my skin. I winced in pain and my mother said, I must be strong like our people. I need to be brave like my father and cunning like my ancestors.

“Look at you…” I hear Qimir’s voice and that’s when the memory fades. When I come back to the present, I see that I’m holding the saber, but not only that, everything in the room is floating in the air.

I gasp and that’s when everything falls to the floor. I toss the saber down and I take the helmet off. “What are you doing? You were doing amazing, Akasha.”

“I feel sic-” I feel a slight pound to my head and I drop down. But before I can fall completely, Qimir scoops me up in his arms. “Sorry there little flower, I should’ve warned you that you’d feel a bit nauseous after your first time. But you made me proud. Which means you get rewarded greatly.” He leans down and he kisses my temple. He carried me in his outs and walks out of the room, I look back at the saber and helmet and feel…a warm sensation.

Is it because I don’t feel well?

Because he said he was proud of me?

Or because I was able to tap into the force?

Yeah, I don’t feel well. I’ll go with that logic.

••••

After much rest and odd dreams about the force, I was woken up feeling this empty feeling in my gut. I haven’t felt that in a long time.

I crawl out of bed and feel that the side next to me was cold.

Where is he?

I feel my bare feet patting against the cold floor and I hear drilling. I follow the sound and when I find where it’s coming from I see Qimir drilling something onto the helmet.

He senses me because he stops and looks over at me. “Did I wake you?” He asks as he sets his drill down. “No, I was just wondering what you were doing since you weren’t lying next to me.”

He looks down at my bare thighs and the back at me. “I couldn’t sleep, and even if I could, I wouldn’t sleep in the same room as you…you’re too much of a distraction.”

“So where do you sleep? If not in the bed with me?” I ask out of pure curiosity. He looks around and then back at me.

“In here. I have a cot in the corner.” He motions with his chin and I look over to see the cot. It looks uncomfortable and old.

I make a face.

“That can’t be good for your back.” I look back at him and he’s just staring at me like he wants to eat me…out.

“Careful little flower, you sound like you care about me.” I roll my eyes and cross my arms, which causes my chest to push up. His eyes, go right to there and I feel…hot.

“I’m just saying, that can’t be good for your back…speaking of that. How did you get that scar?”

The moment I mention the scar he seems to give off a dark murderous aura. Even I take a small step back.

“…My…Master, gave this to me after she threw me away.” His jaw was clench but I see it in his eyes. The anger and hurt. “So she stabbed you in the back.” I say remembering how big and ugly the scar looks.

I get a slight irritation in my chest hearing that a woman had hurt him.

“Among other things. Yes.” He then goes silent and the room just seems suffocating. So I speak.

“These…scars.” I touch my face and give a sad smile. “Are my youth scars as well as my warrior scars. They were painful, but I adore them.”

“Are you saying I should adore this scar on my back?” He snaps at me. “No, I’m saying my scars have a story. And so does yours. I have plenty of scars you haven’t seen that shows I’ve tried to take my own life….” I pull down the shirt and point to the faint scar on my neck.

“When my people were slaughtered and I was left. I got scared. I got scared and lonely and I remember…I grabbed a chair. I grabbed a chair and I grabbed my old baby blanket. I had cut it up finely and I just kept tying the pieces together until the knots were tight enough. I remember praying to whatever god or entity out there that I could join my people after taking my life. And when I kicked the chair from under me-”

Qimir was up in an instant. I flinch thinking he was going to hit me but instead he pulls me into a hug. “Stop-stop talking about that memory. When you talk about it, you look helpless and that makes my chest hurt, because I can’t stop that for you. I can’t protect you.” He looks down at me and he looks at my neck. He leans down and he kisses the faint scar.

“Don’t ever do this again. I’ll lose my mind if you took yourself away from this planet…from this time period…from me.” He embraces me again, and I feel…warm.

This feeling is foreign to me and I don’t want it to stop. But I can’t allow him to get to me. I can’t allow him to win.

I shrug him off and back up a bit. “What are you working on?” I ask, just to change the subject. He looks back over towards the helmet.

“I’m just adding some new additions to the helmet. It’ll help when you’re wearing it and keep the force in you stable.”

He’s thinking about me.

He’s considering how I felt sick after using the force in that magnitude.

This, this is too much. I need to leave this room or something. I feel like I’m suffocating.

“Oh! I’m…I’m just gonna go back to bed. Sorry to bother you.” I go to leave but he keeps me still by getting a grip of my shirt. “You’re never a bother to me, Akasha. Actually, how are you feeling? I meant to ask you that.”

He gently pulls me closer to him and I swallow hard because he’s giving me a look that tells me, I’m going to be on my back with my legs spread wide open.

“I’m fine. I got plenty of sleep so, I’m fine now.” He looks at my lips and then he trails his thumb against my bottom lip. “So, if you’re fine and you had plenty of sleep, then why do you need to get back to bed?”

“I…uh.”

He walks forward which makes me walk backwards. Until my legs bump against something cool.

My hand touches it and it feels smooth to the touch, like metal or a mirror.

“Little flower, you aren’t trying to avoid me are you?” I shake my head. “No, I figured you didn’t want a distraction so I would just leave you alone.”

“It’s too late for that now isn’t it. You come in here, with this shirt on and your thighs out for display. Imagine if we had company. I’d have to kill them for looking at you. For looking at what’s mine.” He leans me against the metal like wall and he brushes his lips against my neck. This time with lust behind it.

“A…are you sure you don’t want to finish up on the helmet?” I ask, knowing he sure as fuck doesn’t want to do that.

“Why would I do that, when I have a delicious snack in front of me? I think I deserve a break, and I do recall saying I’d give you a reward…”

To watch this man get on his knees and push my legs apart, should be illegal. But he does just that and he lifts my left leg and place it on his shoulders. He looks up at me and while we keep eye contact, he bites and sucks my inner thigh, causing me to hiss in pleasure.

“Now I’ll leave marks that no one but you and I can see.” He says as he trails his tongue against the now bruised mark.

“Lean against the wall for balance, little flower.” I do as I’m told and he hikes me up so that both of my legs are on his shoulders.

I hear him lick and my hands go to his hair. I throw my head back against the mirror, I buck my hips as I feel his tongue does circles around my clit.

His hand then reaches under the shirt I’m wearing and he gets a hold of my right breast. My nipples feel as hard as rocks as I feel him pinch one.

“Qimir…Master, please don’t stop…” I moan out as rock my hips and rub my pussy deep in his face.

I hear him slurp and lap up my pussy and when I finally look down, he was flicking his tongue quickly up and down my slit.

“Mmmm, you’re…such a lovely distraction. Especially with this fucking sweet little pussy. I feel him insert two fingers inside of me and when he does a come here motion, I start stuttering like a madwoman.

He continues to do the come here motion as well as sucking and licking my clit and I quickly without warning cream on his face.

I watch his eyes roll back as he deeply licks me out. I was practically gripping his hair when I came and when I finally catch my breathe, I let go and he has beautiful just fucked hair.

Has be always been this…pretty?

He kisses my left then right inner thigh and then he kisses my pussy lips before letting me down on wobbly legs.

As he stands up, I see the erection he has poking in his pants. I lean in without thinking and I stand on tippy toe, kissing him, tasting myself on his tongue and I twirl with his.

He pulls back but only after I bite and pull his bottom lip. “Mmm where are my manners. A lady as tired as you are shouldn’t be on their feet like this. I think you should rest off of those pretty feet and kneel for me.” He says as I see him rubbing his cock in his pants.

I lower myself on my knees, but he stops me and moves so I mirror him. I look up at him and he leans down and rubs this thumb on my bottom lip. I open my mouth and I suck his thumb, causing a groan to come from him.

“You are so beautiful, Akasha. Such beauty as yours, would make anyone do whatever to make you happy. I would kill for you if it put a smile on your face. I would break someone’s neck for you, it it meant I could have you look at me like this all the time. I’d slit their throat for you. I would cut them open and offer their heart to you just to show you how dedicated I am for your happiness.”

My stomach flutters hearing him say that and I watched as he pulls his pants down. I bite my bottom lip looking at his cock and he strokes it while looking at me.

“You know from the moment I met you, and seen your tongues, I’ve wanted my cock in your mouth. I want to know how that feels, little flower. Can you do that for me? Show me what those pretty tongues can do.” He steps out of his pants and steps closer to me.

I inhale his scent and it makes me moan as I lean forward. I flick my tongues on the head of his cock and he lets a hiss escape his lips. I take the head into my mouth and Qimir lets out a soft moan, while holding the back of my head.

“You’re so good to me, little flower. So, so good.” He does slow and deep thrusts and I feel a tingle in the back of my throat.

“You know why…I’m standing like-oh fuck don’t stop sucking…just like that….You know why I’m standing right here, lit…little flower? So you can watch yourself in the mirror, while you take my cock down your throat.”

I glance over and sure enough we’re facing the mirror. It was a great turn on to see myself on my knees, taking him. I look back up and he slides out of my mouth.

“I’m going to go faster, but I just wanted to warn you, okay little flower?” He asks permission. I grant him that and he smiles. “Good girl, now open.” I open my mouth and he spits in it then slides his cock back in my mouth.

He starts thrusting deeper and faster which tickles my gag reflex. I try to push back but he takes my arms and keeps them up with on of his hands.

“No…hands, little flower. Fuck. Your mouth feels so good.” I start to choke a little but he doesn’t stop. He grips my hair and he fucks my throat deeper. I feel tears welling up in my eyes and he smirks.

“I know you can take this. I know you can take all of it down this pretty little throat of yours. And if not, then I’ll train your throat so…so it can only take my cock. F..fuck. Just like that. Swallow this cock like your life depends on it, Akasha.” He moans as he bucks his hips.

I try my best not to gag, so that he will be happy. Pleasing him seems to be my main focus and I want to make him happy.

When he finally pulls out, a trail of drool and precum drips from my lips. “Do you want me to stop?” He asks while stroking himself faster as he whimpers. “No, master. Keep go-” He doesn’t even let me finish my sentence as he enter my mouth once again.

This time I relax my throat as he face fucks me. I look in the mirror and what I see makes my juices drip onto the floor. Qimir’s muscles were flexed, his veins were pulsing and his facial expressions were blissful.

“My cock….belongs in your throat, Akasha. Don’t you think so?” He asks as he looks at me, thrusting and fucking. I nod, and I gag causing his cock to jump. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum.”

No sooner, I feel his thick cum shoot down my throat. He groans for me to swallow every last drop and just like his good little flower, I obey.

I milk him and he bites his bottom lip looking down at me. He lets my hair and hands go and he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around him

and we kiss, tasting each other in each others mouths.

“You did so good, Akasha. Keep that up and I’ll become addicted to you.” He whispers sleepily. I begin to reply but a yawn cuts me off.

“How about, we get to bed.” I nod and look over at the cot but he shakes his head. “I think we both deserve to sleep in a comfortable bed tonight. And besides, I want you close.”

Hearing him say that makes my heart flutter.

Wait, no. I don’t want it to flutter.

What is Qimir doing to me?

NEXT

[sooperlative]

concept: some years after the end of the 100 year war the ember island players are invited by iroh and sokka to perform a play during like a,,, meeting of nations. and they come in and are instantly face to face with the avatar and their country’s literal leader, the latter of whom squints at them and goes “ah! butcherers of love amongst dragons! you got my scar on the wrong side by the way” like how do you deal with that. your fire lord admits to thinking you’re no good, but also admits to having watched the play you guys did and wrote about him and his besties in which he died horrifically at the hands of his currently imprisoned sister, because you obviously were wrong for predicting the avatar would lose. and the avatar’s like “i also didn’t die. surprise!” like you’re not 100% aware of that.

and sokka of the southern water tribe, war hero and brilliant strategist, is like “LOVE your stuff dudes” and tries not to get murdered by his sister (a master waterbender) (very deadly) (not whiny and lovelorn at all) who obviously does not agree with him. the blind (female) (small) earthbender is small and female and also highly deadly holy Shit you got that wrong. there was also a fucking kyoshi warrior you didn’t even know of. general iroh was quite on point but there’s a look in his eyes that reminds you far too much of the hardiest of soldiers returning shaken and volatile from the earth kingdom, but he serves you tea. you’re unsure whether you should drink it (and do it anyway, because the fire lord tells you to and one does not simply say No to the fire lord)

and you’re supposed to put on another play for team - fucking - avatar!! conquerors of ozai and harbingers of peace!! for their enjoyment!!! but the fire lord is glaring at you like he’s contemplating throwing you in prison for being kinda bad at acting and horrible at interpreting plays of literary significance, and it’s kinda scary, and what do you DO at that point????

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Bad Day at Black Rock | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: panic attack/PTSD, recovering from a sexual assault (HEED THESE WARNINGS ESPECIALLY FOR THIS CHAPTER), canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 6673

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“What?!” you exclaimed. “She’s a demon, and you didn’t gank her?!”

Sam had just finished telling you and Dean about this Ruby girl he’d met. 

“No, (Y/N), I mean, she seemed pretty helpful on the Seven Deadlies case.”

“Wait, she’s the blonde chick?!” you realized. “Why the fuck would a demon help me?”

“I don’t know,” Sam answered. “That’s what I’m trying to understand, too. And if she helped us then, I don’t see why I shouldn’t have at least listened to what she had to say.”

“Because ‘demon,’ that's why,” Dean snapped angrily. “I mean, the second you find out this Ruby chick is a demon, you go for the holy water! You don't chat!”

“No one was chatting, Dean,” Sam huffed.

“Oh yeah? Then why didn't you send her ass back to Hell?”

“Because she said she might be able to help us out!”

“With what, though, Sam,” you chimed in. “You’ve never said how she’s supposed to be able to help us. Or with what.”

“She told me she could help Dean,” Sam said quietly.

Dean seemed to not understand.

“With the crossroads deal, I’m assuming,” you told him.

Sam nodded.

The older brother looked at Sam incredulously. “What is wrong with you, huh? She's lying, you gotta know that, don't you? She knows what your weakness is; it's me.” Dean paused for a second. “What else did she say?”

Sam was quiet again.

You and Dean leaned in expectantly. “Dude?” the older brother questioned.

“Nothing. Nothing, Okay?!” Sam snapped. “Look, I'm not an idiot, guys. I'm not talking about trusting her, I'm talking about using her. I mean, we're at war, right? And we don't know jack about the enemy. We don't know where they are; we don't know what they're doing. I mean, hell, we don't know what they want. Now, this Ruby girl knows more than we will ever find out on our own. Now, yes, it's a risk, I know that, but we need to take it.”

“You're okay right, I mean you're feeling okay?” Dean asked.

Sam huffed. “Yes I'm fine. Why are you always asking me that?”

You looked between the two brothers when a phone began ringing. You checked your pockets; no buzzing. Sam and Dean’s phones weren’t ringing either. 

“Check the glove box, it's Dad's,” Dean suddenly realized.

“Dad’s?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, I keep it charged up in case any of his old contacts call.”

‘Smart boy,’ you thought.

Sam opened the glove box and found the ringing phone. “Hello? Yes... this is Edgar Casey… No! No, no, no, don't – don't call the police, I'll handle this myself. Thanks. You know, can you just uh, can you just lock it back up for me? Great. Uhm, I- I uh, I don't have my - my book in front of me—” Sam gestured to you for a pen, which you quickly handed to him— “do you- do you have the address so I can... Sure, okay. Go ahead. Right, thanks a lot.” He then hung up and turned to Dean. “Dad ever tell you he kept a container at a storage place?”

“What?” Dean asked.

“Outside of Buffalo?”

The older brother shook his head. “No way.”

“Yeah. And someone just broke into it.”

***

“No demons allowed,” Sam noted upon entering his father’s storage container. A large Devil’s Trap was etched into the ground, and two sets of bloody footprints traveled right through it. 

“Check this out,” Dean said, stooping to hold up a tripwire. It was attached to a shotgun hidden in a large animal skull. 

“Whoever broke in here got tagged,” Sam said.

“I got two sets of boot treads here,” you announced, “looks like it was a two-man job. And Buckshot Boy looks like he kept walking.” You nodded toward the bloody footprint trail leading into the container.

“So, what's the deal?” Sam wondered aloud. “Dad would do work here or something?”

“Living the high life, as usual,” Dean quipped.

The three of you crept around John’s storage locker, and the two brothers chatted about how much of a mystery their father still was to them. You took in the varying types of clutter. To your surprise, the room was filled with old memorabilia; photo albums, a graduation cap and gown you assumed was Sam’s, and a few boxes whose contents were written on the outside of them in a woman’s handwriting you assumed belonged to Mary. 

You smiled at a trophy on a shelf nearby. “Check it out,” you said, picking it up and dusting it off. “Sam Winchester, 1995,” you read aloud, “Soccer Division Championship.”

Sam grinned and came over to you. “No way! I can't believe he kept this.”

“Yeah,” Dean smiled lopsidedly, “it was probably about the closest you ever came to being a boy.” He wandered over to another table with a shotgun laid on it. “Oh, wow! It's my first sawed-off. I made it myself. Sixth grade.” The older brother laughed and pumped the dusty shotgun.

“You made that?” you questioned.

“Not bad, eh?” he grinned excitedly.

“No, not at all,” you giggled. “Damn, dude.” You took the gun from him and inspected it, impressed with Dean’s craftsmanship. He smiled proudly at you.

“Guys, over here,” Sam said. You followed his voice over to a door to a back room. The chain on the door had been cut, and you cautiously made your way inside.

You waved your flashlight around the room to find varying weapons and lockboxes that no doubt held nasty supernatural objects.

“Holy crap. Look at this,” Dean called, “he had land mines. Which they didn't take. Or the guns. I guess they knew what they were after, huh?”

You took in the lockboxes on the shelf on the far wall. “This is binding magic,” you pointed out. “Curse boxes.”

“Curse boxes?” Dean questioned. “They're supposed to keep the evil mojo in, right? Kinda like the Pandora deal?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, they're built to contain the power of the cursed object.”

“Well, Dad's journal did mention a whole bunch of stuff, y'know? Dangerous hexed items, fetishes. He never did say where they ended up,” Dean added.

“Must be his sulfur-sludge dump,” you joked. You noticed a rectangular-shaped hole in the dust that had settled over the shelf. “Well, they found what they were looking for.”

“Great,” Sam groaned.

“Well, maybe they didn't open it,” Dean suggested optimistically. 

“Cute thought, but I’m sure they did,” you replied flippantly. You looked around the exterior of the storage unit for anything that could be of use to you; footprints, tire tracks, and… aha! A security camera.

“That’s helpful,” you noted, pointing up at it. 

The boys helped you fish the SD card out of the security camera, and you hooked it up to your computer. 

“There, license plate,” you noted. “And now…” you pulled up an alternate tab and copied the license plate number into it. Immediately, pages began scrolling of places the license plate had been seen at. Most recently, an apartment not too far from you. 

“Ta-da,” you announced childishly, and the brothers looked at you in shock.

“Jesus, (Y/N), how’d you get access to all this?” Sam asked.

“Oh, y’know,” you smirked, trailing off. 

Sam looked at you expectantly. 

“Same way any hackers do,” you shrugged. “Had this guy on the hook for a bit when I was, maybe, twenty. Found out he was an FBI agent in the cyber unit— not the brightest of the bunch— and I phished his computer. Of course, as soon as I did, the computer broke and shut down. Told him I was good with computers and could fix it for him, and then, I cut and run. Fixed the laptop up and had access to everything he had access to. Exported it to my laptop, ditched his somewhere in Arizona, and here we are.”

“That is…” Dean trailed off, “incredibly hot.”

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a smile. 

“Get a room,” Sam mumbled, moving over to the Impala.

***

You and the Winchesters crept into the apartment belonging to the drivers of the stolen Connecticut vehicle, guns drawn. You could hear two men chattering about their poker game, and then you finally burst into the room on Dean’s nod.

“Freeze, freeze! Nobody move!” he commanded.

“He said don’t fucking move!” you ordered, pinning the bandaged, redheaded man to his seat with your gun.

“What is this?” the other man questioned.

“Stop!” Sam demanded. 

“Alright, give us the box. And please tell me that you didn't–”

Sam cut Dean off. “Oh, they did.”

“You opened it?!” Dean grunted. He shoved the dark-haired man against the wall.

“Are you guys cops?!” the man pinned wondered.

“What was in the box?” Dean questioned angrily.

You noticed a rabbit’s foot on the edge of the table. ‘Oh, fuck,’ you thought. 

“Oh, was that it, huh?” Dean laughed coldly. “It was, wasn't it? What is that thing?”

The man used Dean’s distraction to knock the gun out of his hand. When it fell to the floor, it fired, and you had to drop to the floor to avoid being hit in the face by the bullet.

The bullet ricocheted off the radiator and hit Sam’s gun, and he dropped it. The same bullet somehow ricocheted and hit a lamp, breaking it. You dove across the floor, trying to grab Sam’s gun, and the redheaded man pushed Sam down on top of you.

“The fuck, Sam?!”

“Sorry!”

You scrambled toward the redhead, and he backhanded you, somehow knocking you off balance and sending you to the floor. You normally wouldn’t have been so thrown off by such a simple move, but that rabbit’s foot was definitely working its magic. 

“Dean, I got it!” Sam announced. You turned around to see him holding the rabbit’s foot.

“Fuck, Sam, no!” you cried upon seeing him holding the cursed object.

The dark-haired man moved forward holding Dean’s favored gun and cocked it in his face. The man pulled the trigger in Sam’s face, but the gun jammed. 

‘Thank god.’

A quick scuffle ensued in which the two men opposing you had a bookshelf fall on them and a carpet got wrapped around their ankles and tripped them. Both men knocked themselves out, and Dean laughed triumphantly.

“That was a lucky break!”

“No, not lucky!” you shrieked. “Sam, that’s a rabbit’s foot!”

“Uh, yeah?” he said, as if it were obvious.

“Do you have any idea what you just did?” you panicked. 

“No, what are you—”

“I’m calling Bobby,” you said, storming out of the apartment and back to the Impala. 

“Whoa, whoa, why? I’m not seeing how this is a bad thing, (Y/N),” Dean countered, catching up to you. 

“Because that’s a rabbit’s foot, Dean! A cursed object! Its literal function is to bring bad luck,” you explained.

“How?” Sam asked. 

“Once you touch it, you’re marked. Luck’s gonna be on your side.”

“Better buy some lottery tickets then,” Dean chuckled excitedly.

You glared at him. “But if you lose it, you’re fucked. It’ll keep bringing you bad luck till it eventually kills you.”

“Well, I just won’t lose it, then,” Sam tried. 

“Everybody loses it, Sam! That’s the whole point!”

The two boys looked slightly shaken; Sam more so than Dean. Dean was laughing all the way to the bank on this one, and he dragged you and Sam to a gas station to get lottery scratch-off tickets. Then, he drove you to a restaurant chain location called Biggerson’s for some dinner. 

You sat on the phone with Bobby, the two of you angrily muttering about the insanity of the situation to each other.

“Gotta say, kid,” Bobby started, “was hoping the next time I heard from ya, it’d be on happier terms than this.”

“Trust me, me too,” you sighed. “Do you know of anything that can stop this?”

“I’ll dig around—”

Bobby’s voice in your ear was cut off by Dean triumphantly exclaiming, “twelve-hundred dollars! You just won twelve-hundred dollars!”

You grimaced and put the phone back to your ear.

“I’m guessing Sam’s luck’s still good,” Bobby drawled.

“For now, but I don’t know for how much longer.” You got out of the car, suddenly feeling suffocated in the Impala. You paced around, as did Sam, and you watched as he walked over to something glistening under a newspaper on the ground. 

“I’ll figure somethin’ out. Lemme look through my library and make some calls,” Bobby said. “Call me if anything else goes to shit.”

You laughed, and Sam stood up holding a golden watch. He turned to Dean who stood next to you and mouthed something like, “Awesome,” to his brother.

“Will do,” you told the older man on the phone. “Hurry, Bobby.” You hung up as Dean calculated the winnings from the scratch-off tickets he made Sam fill out.

“Oh, man!” Dean grinned. “We’re up fifteen grand!”

You and Sam half-smiled, both feeling unsettled still.

Dean continued to laugh as he walked into the restaurant with you hot on his heels. 

“In case you forgot, Dean, we’re still technically fugitives,” you hissed. “If Sam’s luck goes to hell, we could be royally fucked.”

“Don't worry,” Dean said easily. “Bobby 'll find a way to break it. Until then I say we hit Vegas, pull a little Rain Man. Sam can be Rain Man.”

“Look, we just lay low until Bobby calls back, okay?” Sam whispered. He turned to the man behind the host stand. “Hi, uh, table for three, please.”

The man’s face broke out into a grin, and he hollered, “Congratulations!” An alarm began to sound through the restaurant.

“It's exciting, I know,” Dean quipped.

“You are the one millionth guest of the Biggerson's Restaurant family!” the man announced. 

The staff surrounding you began singing and taking photographs while they shoved a giant check into your hands. Balloons fell from the ceiling, and you and Sam would’ve rathered been anywhere else. Dean was ecstatic, though, which you were happy to see. You’d suffer tremendous embarrassment fifty times over just to see him smile. That thought scared you a little bit; how you'd do anything for him. You had a tendency to be an extremist.

You were escorted to your table, and a gorgeous waitress in what was clearly a black bob wig approached your table. 

Her coy smile was alluring, but something about her wasn’t sitting right with you. Still, nothing seemed off through the rest of the meal. Sam clacked away on his laptop rattling off bits of lore he was reading on rabbit’s foot Hoodoo magic while you and Dean shared a bowl of ice cream. 

“I think from now on, we only go to places with Biggerson's,” Dean commented. 

The waitress came back over to your table with a pot of coffee and grinned at Sam. “Can I freshen you up?”

Sam nodded. “Thanks.”

The waitress poured, still smiling, and spilled some in her flirtatious stupor. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Let me mop up here. Sorry about that.” She hurriedly cleaned her mess and left the table, appearing to flirt with Sam over her shoulder even as she left.

“Dude. If you were ever gonna get lucky…” Dean trailed off.

Sam smirked. “Shut up.”

You smacked Dean’s shoulder. “I’m right here.”

Sam went to pick up his coffee, but he knocked the cup over and spilled it all over himself. Before you could process what was going on, he jumped out of his seat and into a waiter with a full tray. Things went flying through the air as Sam rushed profuse apologies. 

“Sam, check your pockets,” you said evenly. 

He did, and his hands came up empty.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean growled.

You and the brothers threw a wad of cash on the table and raced into the parking lot after the waitress. You noticed the black bob wig ditched on the ground a few feet from the door. “I knew it was a wig!”

“What?” Sam asked, turning around to you. He immediately tripped and fell flat on his face. 

“Wow! You suck!” Dean laughed, turning back to a groaning Sam.

“Ow,” the younger brother whined while you helped him up. His knees were bloody and raw through his ripped jeans.

“So what, now your luck turns bad?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah, Dean, I believe I’ve said that,” you remarked, and he glared at you. 

“Well, how bad does it get, genius?” 

“Really bad. C’mon,” you urged. 

“Where we goin’?” Sam asked.

“Back to the two jackwads that got us into this mess,” you said, hopping in the driver’s seat. 

“Whoa, who said you could drive?” Dean questioned.

“Me. Don’t be a child,” you said. 

***

You broke into the apartment once again to find the brunet man sadly downing a bottle of tequila. 

“Oh, man. What do you want?” the man asked.

“Heard about your friend. That's bad luck,” Dean tsked, referring to the death of the redheaded thief. 

“Piss off,” the man spat.

“We know someone hired you to steal the rabbit's foot. A woman,” Dean continued.

“Oh yeah? How do you know that?”

“Because she just stole it back from us.”

The man laughed. 

Sam stepped forward. “Listen man, this is seri—” and then he fell to the floor mid-sentence, pulling a CD player and a shelf down on top of him. 

You turned back to help the younger brother up. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said, smiling awkwardly in thanks for your help. 

“I want you to tell us her name,” the older Winchester continued to the man. 

“Fuck you,” was the only response he got.

“It wasn't a freak accident that killed your partner,” you tried, coming out from behind the couch.

“What?”

“C’mon, don’t tell me you haven’t been thinkin’ it. I thought you’d be smarter than that,” you challenged. That seemed to get under the man’s skin, so you continued. “That series of unfortunate events that had to happen to kill your partner— like, had you not seen it with your own eyes, you wouldn’t have believed it— that was the rabbit’s foot. If you don’t help us stop this thing, those deaths are on you, my friend.”

The man in front of you looked worried. 

“And I gotta tell you, it doesn’t seem you’re cut out for the whole killin’ thing. You don’t wanna be a killer, do you?” you continued to press.

The man shook his head, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “No.”

***

You left the apartment repeating the woman’s last name over and over in your head. The man told you “Lugosi” was the only name he and his partner were given when they were hired. 

You took out your phone and called Bobby. 

“Hey, (Y/N), glad you called,” you heard the man say. 

“Hey, we got a situation here—”

“I found a heavyweight cleansing ritual that should do the trick,” Bobby continued. 

“That’s awesome, thank you, but uh…” you trailed off, trying to decide how to phrase your next words. You decided not to sugarcoat it in the end. “Sam lost the foot.”

“He what?!”

“I know, I know,” you sighed. You turned back around to see Sam and Dean trying to use a broken storm grate to get gum off the bottom of Sam’s shoe. You shook your head at their faces when they noticed you; seeming like two little kids caught with their hands in the candy bowl. You returned your focus to your phone call. “Listen, you know anybody by the name ‘Lugosi’? Maybe mid 20’s, super hot, my height—”

“Aw, crap. It’s probably Bela,” Bobby said. 

“ Bela Lugosi? That’s cute, but never heard of her,” you replied.

“Bela Talbot’s her real name,” the older man continued. “Crossed paths with her once or twice.”

“How the hell would she know John had the rabbit’s foot? She a hunter?” you questioned.

“Pretty fuckin’ far from a Hunter, but she knows her way around the territory. She's been out of the country,” Bobby explained. “Last I heard, she was in the Middle East someplace.”

“Well, she’s back!” you mock-cheered, exasperated.

“Which means seriously bad luck for you,” the older man added.

“Thanks for the encouragement,” you quipped.

“Well, kid, if it is Bela, at least I might know some folks who know where to find her,” he finished. 

“Thanks, Bobby. For everything.”

“Just… look out for those two idjits.” And with that, he hung up the phone.

You sighed and turned back around to see Dean reaching through the storm drain and Sam looking dejected. 

“What happened?” you asked.

“I lost my shoe,” the brunet replied sadly. 

Your eyebrows furrowed sympathetically, and Sam’s head hung low. Dean seemed annoyed and huffed, standing up from the floor. 

“C’mon,” the older brother asserted.

***

Bobby did actually have a pretty good lead on Bela; she apparently lived in Queens about two hours away. 

“So what are we doing here?” Sam questioned, referencing the motel you’d just gotten a room at. 

“You, my brother, are staying here 'cause I don't want your bad luck getting us killed,” Dean stated. “And (Y/N), you’re staying with him.”

“What?! Why?” you protested. 

“Because Sam actually listens to you when you tell him not to do something. And you’re way more responsible than me,” Dean shrugged simply.

“Fair point,” you sighed. “Knowing you, you’ll touch the stupid rabbit’s foot, though.”

“Pfft, c’mon, it’s me we’re talking about—”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” you dryly stated.

Dean glared at you playfully as he walked Sam into a motel room. You followed close behind and peeked out the door to make sure you weren’t followed. 

“What am I even supposed to do, Dean?” Sam whined.

“Nothing! Nothing. Come here. I don't want you doing anything. I want you to sit right here—” the older brother pulled a chair into the middle of the room— “and don't move, okay? Don't turn on the light, don't turn off the light. Don't even scratch your nose.” Dean turned to you. “If I’m not back by midnight, take off.”

“What, you gonna turn into a pumpkin or something?” you snickered.

“(Y/N), I’m serious.”

“Since when?”

“(Y/N)—”

“Okay, okay, fine, I heard you.”

Dean smirked down at you and kissed your forehead. “I’ll be back,” he said.

You watched him leave, a bit of your heart tugging at being anywhere without him. Your feelings for him were certainly growing stronger, and it frightened you how constantly you needed to be near him. 

You turned back to see Sam wrinkle his nose a few times before finally risking a scratch at it. 

“Hey! None of that,” you said. 

Sam’s sad eyes turned to yours. “This fuckin’ sucks, man,” he sighed.

“I know it does. Kinda the whole point of the rabbit’s foot curse,” you commented.

He ignored your smart remark.

“Found anything on how to break Dean’s deal?” you asked.

Sam shook his head. “No. Did find out something interesting, though.”

“What?’ you asked.

“All my mom’s old contacts? All her old friends, the nurse who delivered me— they’re all dead,” he explained.

“What?!” you shrieked. “And you didn’t think to mention this before now?!”

“Shh, keep your voice down,” Sam said. “Didn’t wanna say anything in front of Dean; he’d go berserk.”

“You know I have to tell him, right?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“No, no! Please don’t,” he begged. “Please. You know he’d flip. And, uh, probably more because of the way I got that information than the information itself.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Ruby told me.”

“Oh, god.” You rolled your eyes and dropped your head back. 

“C’mon, (Y/N), I mean, I called, and it all checks out. It’s got something to do with me and the demon; I know you recognize that pattern,” Sam tried.

“I do, but I don’t like being constantly stuck in the middle of you and Dean,” you said. “I’m supposed to be Switzerland, remember?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean Switzerland didn’t have information on the two sides, she just didn’t pick one,” he shrugged.

“Sam,” you warned, “You know how I feel about keeping things from Dean.”

“I know, I know, but you wouldn’t necessarily be keeping it from him, you’d be…” he trailed off, trying to think of a way to phrase his next words, “fulfilling a promise to me.”

“But I didn’t promise anything,” you argued.

“Please promise me you won’t tell Dean. Not till I’m ready,” Sam begged.

“Sam!”

“(Y/N/N), c’mon. Please, man. Please.”

You stared at Sam for a prolonged moment; you stared intensely and Sam looked up at you with puppy-dog eyes from his chair. You sighed and dropped your head forward. “Fine. But you are gonna promise me that you’ll tell Dean eventually. That’s my one condition.”

Sam nodded. “Deal.”

You shook your head and sat down on the edge of the bed next to Sam’s chair. “You Winchesters and your secrets.”

“Oh, like you don’t have any,” Sam deadpanned.

You looked up at the television and saw the reflection of your guard uniform and scratched-up face staring back at you. You took in a sharp breath and let it out slowly. “Touché.” You paused for a moment. “Sam?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“What are you gonna do when—” you cut yourself off, tears beginning to well in your throat. You took a deep breath to push them down. “When Dean’s gone?” 

Sam shook his head. “(Y/N), no. He’s not gonna—”

“Sam,” you said. “We are trying everything we can. We’re two months into this thing and no closer to saving him than we were on day one. I stopped looking. Not ‘cause I don’t care anymore, but because I’m not gonna send you to Hell just so Dean can live. I mean, Bobby’s been lookin’, too! And he hasn’t found a damn thing. So I just think we have to be real with ourselves.”

Sam shook his head, tears in his eyes.

“I don’t wanna lose him,” you said, putting your hand on Sam’s knee to make him look at you and beginning to cry, too. “I don’t. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But… I’m scared, man. When I lost my family…” you closed your eyes at the memory of some of the awful things you’d done and would never forgive yourself for, “I don’t wanna do that again. And… And I just think that if we kept huntin’ together, we could keep tabs on each other. Make sure the other doesn’t go rogue, y’know?”

“I can’t believe you’re just gonna give up on him like that,” Sam spat, disappointed. 

“I’m not!” you argued. “But I’m not gonna help you kill yourself, dammit! Dean would never forgive me. I would never forgive myself!”

“Look, we’ve got ten months left. We’ll find something,” Sam continued. 

“I hope you’re right, man. I really do,” you said.  

Neither of you said anything for the next few hours.

During that time, you took out your journal and wrote. You didn’t usually keep journals when you were done with them as your duffel bag would be filled to the brim with them by now, but you were definitely going to keep this one; especially after Dean was gone. 

It was somewhat poetic that the first day you met the boys was the first time you’d written in this particular journal. Its pages were filled with your, at first, disdainful musings about the older Winchester brother and slowly but surely became your attempts at discerning your feelings for him.

You liked to buy quite thick and large journals to have enough room for your drawings and to be able to continue writing in them for months and occasionally years. This was the longest you’d been able to stretch one, though, and you were a little over three-fourths through writing in it. 

“I can’t help but wonder what comes next after all this,” you wrote, the pen gliding easily against the page in time with your racing thoughts. “I’ve always been awful about ‘futurecasting’ as Dad called it, but it’s even worse now. Every second I’m with Dean, I can’t help but think about how this is all gonna be over in less than a year. And it’s awful. I wanna be present with him. I just can’t. I don’t want there to be an end to us. I don’t even know if we are anything! He can’t even tell me he loves me.

“And I get it to some extent. ‘I love you’s are hard for him. Fine. I just wish he’d figure out some way to communicate with me that isn’t sex. I mean, the sex is great, but. I don’t know. And just after everything that happened, I’m not feeling great about having sex anyway. And I know it’s upsetting him, even if he won’t say anything; he’d never pressure me, and I know that. And I’m getting better about sex and related things. But it just sucks.

“And I don’t wanna bring any of this up with him and start fights because, as I’m painfully aware, that deadline is getting closer and closer every day. I just want him to be happy with me while he still can be.”

You dropped your pen when the air conditioning unit next to you began to smoke. 

“Oh come on, I- I didn't- I wasn't—” Sam whined.

“Just stay put,” you said. You jerked back in surprise when the unit suddenly caught fire. You grabbed the comforter from the bed next to you and began to put the fire out with it. Thankfully, the fire stopped. 

“I’m gonna see if I can get someone to fix that for us before your luck kills us both with carbon monoxide poisoning,” you said, starting toward the door. 

Suddenly, the door to the motel room burst open. However, it wasn’t Dean who opened it. It was two men. You drew your gun and cocked it, trained on the two men. “Get the fuck out,” you ordered. 

“I don’t think so,” said the older-looking man. He almost reminded you of Willem Dafoe, and you mentally pegged that as his name. The other man with a bizarre-looking mustache charged you, and you fired. Somehow, the bullet missed its target despite him being in such close range. 

“What the hell, Sam?!” you exclaimed. “Your luck’s rubbin’ off on me!”

“Sorry!” he winced.

The man charging you tried to restrain you in a headlock, but you kicked him squarely between the legs. You jutted your elbow back into his nose simultaneously, and the man dropped you. 

Unfortunately for you, though, Sam had been trying to help you by taking on Willem Dafoe. You turned around to see Sam unable to land a punch on the other man’s face. You tried to help him, but Sam ended up punching you across the face, and you were knocked out cold.

***

When you woke up, your arms were bound behind your back, and your legs were taped together as well. The men had laid you on your stomach, and you immediately began to struggle and panic, feeling your current position was too similar to the one you’d been in with the guard. 

“Dean! Help me!” you wailed without thinking. Your body was in autopilot as you struggled, and you couldn’t even focus on the men in the room. 

“Quit whinin’,” the man with the mustache told you. 

You could barely hear him over the roaring in your ears. “Dean!”

“I said shut up!” the man in front of you roared, slapping you across the face.

You couldn’t, though, continuing to flail like a fish out of water.

“Creedy,” the other man said, turning away from Sam and to his accomplice, “shut her up, please.”

“With pleasure.” The man took a rag out of his shirt and shoved it in your mouth, your muffled cries coming out around it. 

You vaguely heard Willem Dafoe beating the crap out of Sam while he talked about his mission from “god” to kill Sam. Then, the man drew his gun. His partner was unsettled, too, as you strained harder to get out of your binds. 

Suddenly, your saving grace appeared in the doorway. “Dean!” you cried through the gag in your mouth. 

Willem Dafoe turned around and aimed the gun point-blank at Sam’s forehead. 

“Nope. No destiny,” Dean said coolly referring to the man’s earlier comment about god and destiny leading them to Sam. “Just a rabbit's foot.”

“Put the gun down, son, or you're gonna be scraping brain off the wall,” the man replied, his tone ice cold.

Dean waved his Taurus around. “Oh, this thing?”

“Yeah, that thing,” look-alike-Dafoe responded. 

“Okay.” Dean put his gun down on the nightstand beside him, looking smug. “But you see, there's something about me that you don't know.” Dean smoothly picked up a pen off the nightstand beside the gun. 

“Yeah? What would that be?”

“It’s my lucky day,” Dean grinned. He tossed the pen toward Willem Dafoe, and it lodged in the barrel of the gun. ““Oh my God, did you see that shot?!” 

Forgetting all about your current situation, you started yelling through the gag, “You fucking touched it? You fucking idiot!” But all that came out was a muffled garbling of words. 

The man named Creedy lunged at Dean, but missed his punch completely. The man ended up running straight into the wall, and Dafoe was busying himself trying to dislodge the pen from the barrel of his gun. 

“I'm amazing,” Dean said smugly. He picked up the television remote and threw it hard at Dafoe. It hit the man square between the eyes, knocking him out cold. 

“I’m Batman,” you heard Dean suavely state, but you were too busy returning your focus to getting your binds undone. Now that the immediate danger was over, your body went back into panic mode. You yelped when you suddenly felt a hand on your back and fought even harder. 

“Hey, hey!” Dean coaxed. “It’s just me.” He saw you weren’t listening, and he immediately set to work cutting the duct tape binding your legs and wrists. Your hands shakily yanked out the rag in your mouth. Only then did you realize Dean was the one in front of you, and you leapt into his arms. 

He caught you easily, one hand around the underside of your back and the other around the topside your legs. You curled up into him and buried your face in his neck. 

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay,” Dean tried, but your shaking wouldn’t stop. You could feel your sobs slowly subside, but it took quite a while of Dean holding you for you to regain your composure. He pressed kisses into the side of your hair while he held you and tried to soothe you by telling you you were safe. 

You finally uncurled your legs from around Dean and let him put you down. 

Sam came up behind you to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You okay?” he asked. 

You nodded as you sniffled. 

“What happened?” Sam asked in that very unique-to-him soft voice. 

“I dunno,” you lied. 

Dean gave you a look that let you know he’d be asking more questions later. 

“C’mon, we gotta get the hell outta here,” you said, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. You could feel the boys giving you questioning looks as you gathered up yours and the boys’ things and stalked out to the car. 

*** “Alright,” Sam began, sprinkling cayenne pepper into the embers of a small fire you and the Winchesters had started in the middle of a cemetery. “Bone ash, cayenne pepper, that should do it.”

“One second…” Dean said absentmindedly, scratching off the last of his lottery tickets. 

“Dean—” Sam complained. 

“Hey, back off, Jinx. I’m bringing home the bacon,” Dean quipped. He stashed the cards in his jacket that he’d slung over a gravestone. “Alright, say goodbye, wascally wabbit.” He dangled the rabbit’s foot over the top of the fire. 

“Hey!” you shouted, whipping out your gun at the sound of a twig cracking. You aimed it at the sound, and Bela emerged from the darkness with hers drawn as well. 

“I think you'll find that belongs to me,” she said firmly. “Or, you know, whatever. Put the foot down, honey.”

“Oh, hell no,” you said, cocking your gun. 

Bela cut her eyes at you, shooting Sam in the shoulder.

You exclaimed, “What the—!” and Dean cursed, “Son of a—” as Sam collapsed to the ground. 

“Back off, tiger,” Bela told you. “Back off! You make one more move, and I’ll pull the trigger. You’ve got the luck, Dean. You, I can’t hit. But your brother? Him, I can’t miss.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” the older brother roared. “You don't just go around shooting people like that!”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Relax. It's a shoulder hit; I can aim. Besides, who here hasn't shot a few people? Put the rabbit's foot on the ground now.”

“Alright!” Dean mollified. “Alright. Take it easy.” He moved to drop the rabbit’s foot, but instead, he threw it at Bela. “Think fast,” he smirked. 

Bela caught the foot and immediately realized what she’d done. “Damn!”

“Now, what do you say we destroy that ugly-ass piece of dead thing?” Dean smiled in satisfaction. 

Bela sighed, aggravated. She dropped her arm and uncocked her gun, but you kept yours aimed at her as she moved over to the fire. 

“Would you stop pointing that at me?” her smooth voice came without looking at you. 

“Sorry, love. Don’t trust you,” you smiled in fake-politeness. 

She rolled her eyes and moved back to the fire. She dropped the foot into the fire. “Thanks very much,” Bela continued. “I'm out one and a half million, and on the bad side of a very powerful, fairly psychotic buyer.” 

“Wow. I really don't feel bad about that. Sam?” Dean turned to his brother.

“Nope. Not even a little.”

Bela’s gaze hardened. “Hmm. Maybe next time, I'll hang you out to dry.” She turned around and moved toward the gravestone where Dean’s jacket laid. You knew exactly what she was doing. 

“Have a nice night, girls,” Bela smirked. 

You glared at her. “Uh, uh! Turn around!” you ordered. 

“What?” she sighed, clearly annoyed. 

“Gimme the tickets,” you commanded.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied. 

“Yeah, you do. You can’t con me, angel.”

She grumbled angrily but took the stolen tickets out of her pocket and threw them to the ground. 

“Thanks a million,” you called after her. 

“You’re fuckin’ awesome, woman,” Dean admired, you assumed in reference to the tickets you noticed Bela stole. He came over to you and kissed you boldly. You giggled against his lips, and he held your waist firmly. 

Sam cleared his throat. “Hey! Bleeding out, here!” 

You broke away from Dean. “Oh, sorry!” you grimaced, moving to head back to the Impala. “C’mon, I’ll get you patched up.”

When you ensured the rabbit’s foot was burnt to a crisp, you and the Winchesters moved to the car. 

“You good?” Dean asked his brother. 

“I’ll live,” he responded. 

“I guess we're back to normal now, huh? No good luck, no bad luck. And we're up forty-six thousand.” Dean threw his arm around your shoulder and kissed your temple, waving the tickets around in the air. 

“Maybe we should hit Vegas, see how good our luck still is,” you suggested, smiling lopsidedly. 

“I like the way you think,” Dean nodded. “Whaddaya say, Sammy?”

“I think you guys are gonna end up blowing all our money on slot machines,” the younger brother dryly commented. 

“Ye of little faith,” you said. “If not Vegas, we can at least get ourselves a nicer motel room. Maybe we can graduate to hotels!”

“Ooh, yeah. One of those hotels with a jacuzzi tub.”

“Hell yeah—”

“Guys,” Sam groaned. “Still bleeding out, here.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[haunted-girlyy]

Copia, angry: Why the hell did you sprinkle Rain with holy water?!

Dewdrop: Because Rain is far too lovable and considerate to be a demon. He doesn't even embody a single one of the 7 deadly sins. I just wanted to test if he is really one of us...

Rain, crying on the ground: Of course I'm a ghoul! Why else would I have horns and a devil's tail? Besides, you were there when I was summoned!

Dewdrop: well, good point I guess...

[nitpick7]

i feel like the life series fandom has not properly utilized the angst potential of the wildcards yet. and maybe i just haven't read enough posts or fics yet, which is definitely possible, but i'm gonna ramble anyway. (disclaimer: i've watched every pov but probably will get details wrong anyway.)

session one. pearl goes off, alone, away from her group for just a bit. just to mine a little bit more, get some iron. she's crouching at the edge of a cliff to get a better look at the cave, when suddenly the ground isn't underneath her anymore. she doesn't even slip, doesn't have time to react, she just falls.

session two i've thought about so much that i started writing a oneshot (unfortunately still a wip). everyone having to eat rocks and ores and wood and just so many things that they are not meant to eat... but they're all literally starving and real food doesn't fill them anymore. so they're biting into anything they can get their hands on, just hoping and praying that it fills them and doesn't poison them or make them float away... the terror every time the food changes? scrambling to find the next items to eat. ough.

the SNAILS. god. the snails. those things are cute but deadly. bigb, start of the session, seconds after the wildcard activates, hearing something and seeing something and then he's dead. gone. he's gone from peacefully mining to dead in seconds flat and everyone instantly knows just how deadly this one will be.

the speed one... has less angst potential. it's more just the constant fear, being constantly on edge, not used to the speed everything is moving at. they're frustrated at being too slow or their brains aren't moving as fast as their legs, or it's the very start of the session and they're frozen in time with no idea what's happening.

triviabot is less about the trivia itself and more about how it makes everyone act. sabotaging their friends and enemies alike, hiding bots, feeding people false information. they can't trust anyone in that session. but the moment they can trust someone, they latch onto them. someone gets a question about an ally and books it across the server to ask them about it, hoping their bot is still there when they get back.

more on triviabot: there's also the effects if they get something wrong. the robot voice is crazy because to themselves, they sound perfectly normal, but no one can fucking understand them. they're just unable to communicate and don't know for how long. or they're knocked down a few hearts, unable to be fully healed. constantly hurting at least a bit. being equipped with leather armor that they can't take off, unable to protect themselves. tripling in size, not being able to fit anywhere or do anything because they're so big. or their snails coming back, slower but still terrifying.

the mobs one... the very first thing that happens is everyone's beloved pets being killed. unless they happened to have the resources for a nametag beforehand. bdubs almost lost his horse! lizzie spent forever trying to collect mobs just for them to be murdered again! and the trial chamber. grian, joel (who didn't even want to be there), etho, scar; already in the midst of battle, and then all the fucking mobs change? they were terrified in real life, do you know how good that could be in fics?

you may think that there is little angst potential from superpowers. you would be wrong. again, it's less from the wildcard itself and more from how it makes people act. impulse teleporting ren into an obsidian box full of water in order to prove ren was lying about his power? that shit's CRAZY. WHAT THE HELL. impulse literally tried to drown ren to prove scott's point! and like good for him but!!! holy shit!!!!! or grian, who should know what he's doing, losing pearl's ability mid-air and falling to his death - grian falling to his death? (and obviously the listener symbolism with martyn and jimmy. we know we can do stuff with that.)

the final session is just. all of that. but combined. and more wild. it's everything all at once, randomly activating and deactivating, no one knows what's going on and it's a mess. just confusion and chaos.

so. yeah. there is my ramble, i might do smth with this but i might not. please add to this if you have more wildcard related angst, i will love you so much. Ɛ:

[lokisprettygirl]

Light into the Darkness (Bill Skarsgard! Eric Draven x Female Reader) (Horror Romance) (18+) (70s AU)

Read Chapter 4 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 5

Summary : An interaction with a handsome man leaves you spiraling but Eric knows how to put you in your place.

Warning: 18+, Sex, Verbal degradation, blood drinking, Reader is depressed, blood kink, smut, reader has plethora of insecurities, she's passively suicidal, she's in her thirties (for some of you that's a warning I guess), when I say alternate universe i mean it

He must care. Why else would he leave the coin? You wrestled with the thoughts. Was this his way of rewarding you for doing what he had asked or he felt bad about you losing all your money because of him? Or was he just thinking of himself? You were the source of his nutrition afterall and he couldn't afford to make you go hungry.

You placed the coin somewhere safe in the closet, you had made a note to ask Mr Rogers if he'd pay you in advance, for some reason you didn't want to sell it. It seemed special. It was a gift..in a way.

Your eyes then fell upon the plant you had kept on the ledge of the window, dull and lifeless now that you had forgotten to water it. You moved into the bathroom to fill a glass but as you returned you realised it was beyond salvaging.

“I'm sorry” you murmured as you plucked the dead roots out of the pot.

While you bathed your fingers trailed over your skin, tracing the path his lips had traced the last night. And then you felt ashamed again as if you had committed a sin, a crime against nature and everything that was holy in this world.

He wasn't a man, he was a creature and you had let him in every possible way. You had given him your body, your blood and perhaps a piece of your heart as well.

Was he even capable of love? Or was it just hunger?

You mindlessly scrubbed every inch of your skin with the loofah, a sudden sense of disgust wrapped around you from head to toe. Did it come from him or from within you? You couldn't really tell.

*******

The bell above the door jingled with a familiar chime as you stepped into the record store an hour later.

“I'm really sorry again Mr. Rogers” you apologised so he sighed.

“Well I'm glad you got your rest, you do look alive today”

You smiled as he said that. Only if he knew. The air around the store smelled like dust, vinyl, and coffee as usual, but it was comforting in its own way, it was routine. It was normal.

However your life was anything but, you belonged to someone else now. Not visibly. Not obviously. But you felt it in your bones.

The craving, the need you had for him, it was deadly how you felt ashamed of the encounter and still wanted to experience it again when the sun would go down.

The shop was quiet. You tried to focus on refilling the jazz section, but your fingers moved on autopilot. Your mind kept drifting back to him. To his mouth. His hands. The way he looked at you like you were the only living thing left in the world.

His voice faintly echoed in your head. You scowled and rubbed at your temple as if that would make him go away, you couldn't really hear anything but you just knew he was there.. like a parasite, crawling and infecting your thoughts.

The bell jingled again and you straightened instinctively. A man walked in, he was tall, so tall, clean-shaven, early thirties maybe but you couldn't tell. He had a leather jacket on, his hair tousled from the wind.

“Hii” he gave you a smile so you returned it. Gorgeous smile. He moved with the confidence of someone who knew he looked good and also knew that other people thought so too.

“Morning” he said again “Looking for some Nina Simone, but open to suggestions”

You offered a polite smile, grateful for the distraction from your own jumbled thoughts.

“You’ve got good taste. We just got the Little Girl Blue live version this morning..if you want to start there..It truly is magical..must have been surreal for those who got to see it live” you said to him so he smiled again.

“Perfect.. See? I knew you’d have just what I need” you laughed lightly at his words, feeling the first flicker of ease since last night.

“I work here. It’s literally my job” you said as you chuckled, his brows quirked up.

“But you like it..dont you?” he said, watching you closely as you pulled out the vinyl for him “I can tell. You don’t just sell music, you love it”

That startled you a little. No one ever noticed things like that. Not even Adam. You did love music and you loved working at the store.

“I do” you admitted, a little shyly. “Music… keeps me company when nothing else does”

“A woman after my own heart”

You handed him the record and his fingers brushed against yours, lingering just a little too long than it should.

“The name is Clark by the way, what do they call you?” he asked curiously so you mumbled your name.

“Wait I'll wrap it in the case” you said to him so he gave it back to you, his eyes staring deeply in you.

He was flirting with you right? The lingering glance, the way he looked at you, though you didn't quite understand why he'd do that. He was a good looking man and way out of your league. He was handsome. Normal. The kind of man your mother might have called a jackpot. He probably had a job, a dog, maybe even a fancy apartment with plants that were watered regularly.

And for a split second, you saw a different version of your life flash before your eyes. One where you’d waited for something like this to happen to you, maybe there was a love story waiting for you, waiting to be written but..you burned the blank pages before it could begin. Maybe if you had just waited and hadn’t whispered into the night, you'd have a life that was sane and normal, a life where you hadn’t offered your blood, your body, your soul to a creature you didn't know anything about.

Your throat tightened as the panic began to build up.

You could have had this. Something real, something that wouldn't disappear in the morning light.

You should have waited.

But you didn’t.

And now he was inside you. Eric. Eirikr. Whatever he truly was. You could feel him.

He'd bore you in a week, little flame.

You dropped the record as his voice echoed.

Clark looked at you, a bit surprised, a bit concerned

“Hey, you alright?” he asked so you composed yourself.

“Yeah, sorry. Just... clumsy today” You forced a smile as you knelt to pick it up

Your heart pounded in your chest as you quickly wrapped up the vinyl and passed the bill to him.

Before leaving Clark left his number behind for you. After he left, you locked yourself in the stockroom to calm down. The last thing you wanted was Mr. Rogers to see you act this way in front of the customers, you had been behaving weirdly from the past three days since Eric had arrived.

As you stepped out of the store in the evening you found yourself distracted, you weren't even watching as you bumped into a man. He was old, not as old as Mr Rogers but old enough, dressed in a complete five piece suit with a hat and everything. You wanted to apologize but something about him unnerved you in a way that only one other man did.

As you walked past him he suddenly spoke.

“I see he has found a bait”

His words confused you so you turned to look at him and ask whatever the hell he meant but as you did he was gone. He had disappeared.

When you returned home you looked at the mess that was your bed. The bloody sheet, the ripped dress, the smell of sex lingering in every corner of your room only heightened your discomfort.

You couldn't bear the sight of it any longer so you quickly stripped the sheet.

“Well you're going straight to the trash bin” you murmured as you picked the bloodied sheet off the bed and made your way into the kitchen to grab a trash bag.

Your heart leapt out of your mouth as you came back to the sight of Eric sitting on the bed, he was back to his old attire. All black like the darkness he had in him.

“God you scared me” you said as you entered the room, a bit unnerved by his presence when last night you were squirming mindlessly underneath him.

“Why? Were you not expecting me?” He asked as he stared at you, his pale skin seemed to have picked up some warmth, maybe it was your blood.

“No it's just uhh-” you stuttered on your words, not wanting to offend the creature who could bleed you dry instantly if he wanted to.

“Do you regret our union?” He asked so you looked him in the eye finally. Did you regret it? You wished you knew the answer but you didn't, you felt shameful and guilty but was it regret?

“I just..I feel insane okay.. and don't act as if you weren't in my head listening to my thoughts all day.. and you know what .. I don't appreciate it” you crossed your arms as you spoke to him.

“You let me in” he said as he got up and got around the bed.

“No not like that..not in my head..it's too much”

A flicker of hurt flashed across his eyes before he composed himself and smiled. His steps were slow and deliberate.

“You knew what you were getting into” he pressed on every syllable as he spoke.

“No I didn't..you took advantage of me..you saw someone pathetic and desperate and you knew I'd give in-” you retorted, a part of you knew you were being unfair but you just wanted to vent.

“I gave you a choice..why didn't you deny?” he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of anger now.

“Didn't you just hear me? I am pathetic and desperate” you said as a matter of fact, as if that's just who you were deep down.

“I hear you loud and clear but you can not play victim again as you always do. I didn't force you, I could have, I am capable of it but I gave you a choice and you chose me. It can't be undone now. I'm bound to you”

He walked closer to you so you stepped back, fearing as if he'd harm you when he hadn't given you any reason to believe that. As he reached closer to you, his fingers wrapped around the back of your neck, his thumb circling the mark where he had fed from the last night..

“You can run away from me y/n if you wish to” he spoke softly, his nose scrunching, teeth baring. You could tell he was restraining himself.

“I can?” you asked to confirm if you had misheard him.

“It's a choice” he responded.

“And where would you go?” he let out a chuckle as you questioned him.

“It's not your burden to bear is it?”

“It's not..i don't even know you” he scowled as you said that with such ignorance and arrogance. You didn't know him but you had no qualms giving into him.

“You say I used you, that I took advantage of you. What have you done? In the dark of the night you lived a fantasy with me, the morning came with regret and look how willing you are to discard me now” you heard the hurt in his voice, you couldn't even tell if he was manipulating you or not.

“That's not what this is about ..”

“You're ashamed of yourself, ashamed of our consummation because your fragile, limited, mortal mind can not comprehend how much you reveled in it”

“Stop-”

“You can pretend all you want, get rid of the sheets, scrub your skin raw but you can't get rid of me and that scares you. Even given a choice you wouldn't want to lose me” he kept talking, kept saying things you didn't want to hear.

“I don't even know you..I don't know a thing about you except your name -”

“Knowing me isn't going to rid you of your shame, you loathe yourself so much it really is pathetic”

Your eyes teared up as he said that.

“I'm not pathetic” you yelled at him like you had never yelled before, you didn't want him to think of you like that. Not how Adam did. Not how other men saw you, as someone so worthless.

He approached you, his palms cupped around your face as he made you look at him.

“You are not. You truly are not..you see that? You believe that now alright” He said as he cupped your cheeks, his thumb wiping your tears away.

“Stop stop stop..you're doing it again” you said as you pulled away from him, his touch, his words weakening you again.

“What am I doing?”

“You're pulling me in again”

“You think he won't hurt you? After he has what he needs you think he'd not give you up for another conquest? You have been down this road” you scoffed as you knew he was talking about Clark.

“You know when you say such things it makes me feel horrible as if I'm not worthy enough for a man to stick around for me” you turned to face away from him.

“It has nothing to do with you”

He said to you, you knew he was in your head, he was listening to your thoughts and doubts and fear, he knew how insecure you were.

As you didn't answer he sighed deeply before he grabbed your arm to turn you to him.

“Do you want to end this?”

“I thought you said once we are bonded it can't be undone”

“It can't..you'd always have this emptiness in you, a void, when your regret fades, when you're hurt again by someone you will think of me i promise you that, with time you'll forget the sound of my voice or how I look but you'll never forget the way i filled you” you looked away as he said that. A part of you already knew you didn't want him to leave.

“You're manipulating me again”

“I'm telling you the truth”

“And what about you? What will happen to you” he let out a snicker as you questioned him so he let go of your arm and walked towards the window, his fingers brushed over the edges of the now empty pot.

“What happens to a plant when you quit nurturing it y/n?” he asked you, the question was rhetorical.

“It dies”

“Eventually. Not immediately, it survives as long as it can on its own, relishing in the last bit of the moisture it carries in its roots” he paused for a moment before he turned to look at you “And then it wither down slowly, it deteriorate, suffer in agony until it succumb to death”

Your eyes welled up with fresh tears again as he said that. You didn't want him to disappear from your life, you knew you'd regret it if you lose him too, he was already in you, as much as you wanted to deny it he was all inside you, the taste of his lips, the euphoria from his essence, the feeling of complete fullness you had last night, you knew you won't be able replicate it or replace it. You hated how much you wanted him

“You're too intense..has anyone ever told you that?” you spoke between the tears and you heard the sound of genuine laughter erupting from his chest. Oh he had heard that one before.

“I apologise? It's been a while since I have been around someone.. I have forgotten what it is like to be human”

He stared at you intensely, you found yourself burning under his gaze, the need to be close to him resurfaced, all the regret and shame was forgotten now that he looked at you like that.

“I am going for a bath”

You said as you swiftly turned to rush into the bathroom. You didn't ask him to leave so that only meant the other thing.

You wanted him to stay.

You filled the tub with hot water, the steam fogging up all around so much that you couldn't even look at your reflection in the mirror anymore, the same type of fog that he had wrapped around your brain.

You lit up a candle to place it on the window before undressing, then you tied your hair up in a bun before you sunk into the tub until only your head was peaking out. The images from last night flashed as you closed your eyes, the ache between your legs pulsing for his touch again, your blood calling for him, you wanted to feel his teeth sink into your flesh again.

And then you felt him around you, his scent clouded your surroundings, the sound of the leaky faucet dripping water into the tub was the only other sound in the room apart from your heavy breathing.. He was quiet as he sat down at the edge, making you shiver as his fingers brushed your hair from your forehead before they slipped down between the valley of your breasts, his touch cold against your warm skin.

“I didn't ask you to come in” you said boldly, even though your lips trembled.

“You left the door open”

“It's not as if you used it to get in”

“I wouldn't have if it was locked, I come only when you invite me in”

He murmured softly, his fingers slipped between your thighs, gliding with precision on your soapy skin, your breath caught in your chest as he rubbed your lips, his thumb pressing circles on your clit.

“Ask me a question. You said you didn't know anything about me so ask but just one, that is all I'm willing to give you tonight”

He mumbled nonchalantly as if he wasn't torturing you in the same breath.

A gasp escaped your throat as his middle finger slipped into you, he watched as your fingers clutched around the edge of the tub, your head resting at the back.

“Who are you? Who you used to be?” You asked, voice barely a whisper as he pumped his fingers in and out of you.

“A man with a pulse and a dream. I was born..just like you. A son, a brother, a lover” he answered sincerely.

“How old are you now?”

“I don't even know anymore. But i remember the scent of the earth before they filled it with bricks and concrete, i remember when the sky used to be clearer”

You opened your eyes as he said that.

“How did you become this?’ you asked him, even though he had asked you to ask one question.

“I made a choice..a bargain” he said, your eyes rolled into your head as his thumb pressed over the bundle of nerves..

“You chose ..too uhh you chose to become this?” you murmured

“I did but it wasn't for eternal life or glory” your thighs clenched around his hand as you neared your peak.

“Then why?” the words slipped out at the same time as your orgasm hit you like a wave.

“That's a good girl.. so beautiful when you fall apart for me” he mumbled softly, his fingers still working you slowly..

As you breathing leveled he pulled his hand out from under the water and sucked his fingers into his mouth, the remnants of soap and your juices filled his taste bud.

You couldn't keep your eyes off him, the way his skin shined in the candlelight was ethereal.

Grabbing onto the edge of the tub you rose up, water cascading down your skin, his eyes gleamed even in the dim light, his lips parted as if he couldn't wait to sink into you again, you brought your face closer to him until you had your lips on his, he didn't waste a breath, his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you on his lap effortlessly, he was so strong, he could do whatever he wanted to do and you knew you'd have no choice. Except you had one.

He gave you a choice. He always did.

As the kiss heated up he fell back into the tub, taking you along with him, your thighs straddling him, water splashing around you as your lips moved from his mouth to his neck..all your thoughts and worries from the day were gone now, disappearing into the thin air.

“I can't give you normalcy, little flame but what I'm offering is real and lasting” you pressed your head up to look at him, he sounded honest but a part of you still felt wary of his intentions, not that you cared at the moment.

“I guess I'll just have to get used to not waking up next to you”

You said as you took his drenched coat off his body, his shirt sticking to his wet body like a second skin.

“I may disappear as the sun comes up but I'll never leave. I'll always come back for you”

You nodded as he said that, his lips then latched onto your neck, his fangs grazing over your skin but something was holding him back.

“Do you want this? Want to feed me?”

He whispered in your ear so you nodded in desperation.

“So eager”

His fangs pierced your flesh and the familiar sensation of being high from the night before filled you again, like a drug you found yourself wanting to take him in again, and you knew the more you let him in the more addicted you'll get to him but you didn't care, along with the daylight also went down your shame and hesitation.

You didn't remember him taking you out of the tub and into your bed, the bed without the sheets, you were too high to think clearly, but you remembered writhing and squirming underneath him as he fucked you ever so slowly while he drank the blood from your wrist. Your naked bodies tangled around with each other.

He didn't stop that night, it was as if he was punishing you for acting out earlier, he knew how much blood you needed to survive, how much he could take that was not too much to make you sick, so he pierced wherever he wanted to, your neck, your thighs, your wrist, the curve of your breasts, his fangs opened you up for his consumption and then his lips sealed you with same urgency.

All while his cock stayed stilled in you as he made you cum over and over again.

At night you didn't dream of some knight and shining prince who'd come rescue you on a white horse or serenade you with a love song, all you needed was a monster, a creature who lived in the shadows, the one who'd pleasure you all night long and would drink from you to his heart's content.

The next morning a thought kept bothering you though.

He never answered your last question. Why did he become this?

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

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