#you can’t call a guy I like a ghoul and expect me to not laugh and go crazy about it

[devicecontact]

When the ghosts and ghouls attack

[ghoulangerlee]

HERE WE GO. dewther phone sex that probably could have gone on for another six thousand words if I'd continued writing instead of forcing myself to end it :)

there is some lore-y stuff in here because I am not me if I don't include my own personal lore, and at the end there's mentions of heats and knotting but neither of those actually happen :)

Dew is a lil mean in this but as it turns out, Aether really likes em mean.

-

The phone rings, pulling him from the inventory reports in front of him—it's the desk phone of all things, not his cell that sits face down a little further away and for a moment, he thinks to ignore it, to continue his work so he can finish quicker and get to bed sooner, but at the late hour it could be some kind of emergency— 

He picks it up, balancing his pen in his other hand as he cradles the desk phone between his ear and shoulder, “Infirmary, this is Aether speaking, how can I help you?”  

There’s silence on the line for a moment and Aether tilts his head, “Hello? Is someone there?”  

A sigh, familiar in its tone echoes across the line, “Hey Aeth,” Dew mumbles, sounding tired, “Didn’t know if you’d still be awake.”  

Aether glances up at the clock across the room, the hands ticking by slowly, it’s late, much later than he’d expected, “Ah,” he says, “I was finishing up some inventory reports in the infirmary, some new guy decided to double the amount of gauze we need so now we’re swimming in it but don’t have any more antibiotics,” he glances down at the papers in front of him, red lines crossed through black numbers, “Been down here most of the day counting things to get everything right again.”  

Dew hums, a pleased little sound, “I like hearing you talk about the work you do,” he says, tone bordering on that sappy-tired one he gets whenever he’s worked to the bone and sleepy, “I miss you.”  

“I miss you too,” Aether murmurs with a small smile, leaning back in his chair and focusing all of his attention on Dew, “How is guard duty with Frater Imperator?” he asks, a brief flash of worry catching him.  

“He’s safe,” Dew says, yawns widely over the line, “A little annoyed by the travel, a lot annoyed that there may still be something or someone after him despite everything,” he’s candid about it, and if Aether closes his eyes, he can almost see Dew sitting in front of him, waving a lazy hand in emphasis as he speaks. “Of course, we’re doing fine, this other church is okay, a little drafty and the ghouls here don’t really speak, but I guess it’s fine for a little while. The elders keep giving me dirty looks when they think Copia isn’t watching though.”  

A pang of regret goes through him, he’d almost went with Dew and Copia, but something had come up in the infirmary, someone had fallen ill and he’d been the best person to fill in, he wishes he were there with Dew right now. “Sounds exciting,” he says, “A little draft isn’t too much for a fire ghoul, right?” he asks teasingly, feeling the tension of the day fade the longer he speaks to Dew.  

“Cold day in Hell that a puny little church with an annoying clergy bothers me enough to make me leave early,” Dew says with a snort, “I wanted to talk to you though, time differences suck. We’re on different continents and everything so I can’t even really feel you right now either.”  

Aether gets it, he can feel the way his bond with Dew is weakened, barely there, dormant in the distance between them—in the back of his mind he can still feel him, but it’s a far cry from the usual. “I know, wisp,” he murmurs, “I wish we were closer too,” he admits, “Church is quiet without you here.”  

“Copia was giving me shit earlier,” Dew admits after a few moments of silence, “Said I looked sad, like someone stole something from me,” he pauses, clears his throat, “Told me to come call you, that you’d probably be up working still even at the late hour.”  

“He was right,” Aether says with a little laugh, “Not that he has any room to talk about what is and isn’t late,” he continues, and then glances up at the ceiling, “Are you still sad?” he asks cheekily, lazily spinning his chair to the side, “Do you need me to talk to you so you can fall asleep?”  

He means it as a joke, but there’s a serious undercurrent there, something they’d discovered before Copia’s lateral move, when Dew had toured but Aether stayed behind—sometimes, sometimes his brain wouldn’t let him sleep, not alone, and he’d call Aether, listen to the quintessence ghoul talk until his eyes grew heavy and he fell into a comfortable sleep—imagining his mate right there beside him.  

Dew hums lazily, “Maybe,” he starts, but this time, there’s something of a breathless quality to his voice, “Or maybe I want to talk to you about other things.”  

It takes Aether a moment, if he focuses hard enough, he can hear something on the other line, a slick sound, a hitch in Dew’s breathing, “Is this a booty call?” he can’t help but ask, the words spilling out before he can stop it, “Dew are you—” he cuts himself off, presses his palm against the bottom of the phone and glances around the office.  

It’s late, of course, and the door isn’t locked, but he’s the only one down here right now, having sent the rest of the staff off, only keeping a bare bones support staff in case of emergencies, but he can’t sense anyone else.  

“I am working,” Aether finally says, lowering his hand, feeling a flush come up the sides of his neck, “If someone were to walk into my office, they’d—”  

“They’d what?” Dew asks sharply, the hitch in his voice making it obvious what he’s doing, “They’d think you were on the phone, right, baby? That you’re working late, working so hard for everyone, making sure the inventory reports are all correct. You’re not doing something silly like touch yourself, are you? You’re on the phone and you’re working diligently.”  

Aether grits his teeth, pressing a fist hard into his thigh, “I’m not touching myself,” he says, and looks down at his desk again, numbers taunting him on the page, “I’ve stopped working for the moment to talk to you,” he inhales deeply, bites his lip when he hears Dew moan quietly over the line.  

“You’re being such a good boy,” Dew murmurs the praise, praise that shoots right down to Aether’s core, “I’m going to touch myself and you’re going to listen to me and keep working, aren’t you?”  

Aether bites harder at his lower lip, tilting his head back against the chair, “I am,” he finally agrees, after a long moment of listening to Dew breathe heavily, the slick sounds of his hand.  

Dew waits for a moment, almost as if he’s aware that Aether’s not working, waits for minutes until Aether sits up, scoots his chair forward and picks his pen back up, “If I were there with you, I’d situate myself under your desk,” he purrs, words going a bit high on the end. “You’d be a busy body about it, complain about me distracting you but we both know you want me to.”  

Aether digs the pen into the paper in front of him, keeping his gaze trained on the numbers on the page and he hums a little, “You are good at being a little shit sometimes,” he says, trying to keep his tone casual.  

A laugh, breathless and the slick sounds seem to get louder, “Uh huh,” he agrees, “I am, but you love me like that, you love when I push your buttons. Take you down a peg, big guy.” Dew grunts a little and Aether can only imagine that he’s fucking up into his fist, “You turn to putty in my hands the second I get my mouth on you,” he breathes.  

“Lies,” Aether says, trying to keep his voice firm as he presses his legs together, “You’re just running your mouth.”  

Dew swears softly, “Aether,” he moans out, “Strong words for the guy who begged me to fuck him right before I left,” he teases, and Aether feels hot under the collar when he thinks about it, how desperate he had been for Dew’s dick. “It’s okay big guy, I love when you fall apart for me, when you can barely speak because you’re so dick drunk,” he coos, “Thinking about how your skin’s so cold, but every time I get inside you, you heat up like a fire ghoul,” he teases, “Like I’m branding you from the inside out, isn’t that right baby, you’re all mine and no one can fuck you as good as I can.”  

Aether squeezes the pen in his hand tight enough that he can hear the plastic creaking, “Dew,” he says sharply, but doesn’t speak beyond that, knows if he says anything else he’s going to make a fool of himself, he’s going to start babbling about how much he wishes Dew were here now, down under his desk, mouth on him, making him come.  

As the silence stretches between them, Dew moans again, this time higher, another swear, the steady creak of bedsprings, little ah, ah, ahs falling from his lips as he does, “Say something sweet for me baby,” he finally says, breathless and oh so close. “Let me hear your gorgeous voice, tell me what you want me to do for you, baby.”  

And oh Dew’s begging now, desperate in the same way he gets when they’re together, even when he’s being mean and teasing Aether—when he’s close, when he just needs a bit more to come.  

The pen clatters to the desk and Aether’s quick to shove his hand down the front of his scrubs, so glad he’d opted for them instead of the stuffy slacks he normally wore when on administration duties, “I want your mouth on me,” he finally admits, “Wanna fuck your face while you wait under the desk for me to finish working,” he manages to get out, moans when his fingers meet his dick, stroking over it quickly. “Want you to put a couple of fingers inside me, something for me to squeeze around,” he swallows heavily, tilts his head back against the chair as he arches his hips up into his own touch, imagining the heat of Dew’s mouth around him, “I feel so empty, firelight,” he admits, voice breaking a little as he does, pants out in the open, “Feels so empty when you’re away, want you to carve a place inside me and never leave.”  

Dew swears again, louder, a litany of fucks falling from his lips and Aether thinks he comes, thinks if he focuses hard enough he can feel it, the heat of it inside him, that maybe their distance is driving him a bit mad with how much he misses him.  

“Come for me baby,” Dew’s voice, rough with his orgasm, fills Aether’s ears, draws a sharp gasp out of him as he clenches around nothing and comes, goes completely breathless with it as he continues to touch himself until he’s too sensitive and he has to pull his hand away though it doesn’t go far, arm falling limp between his thighs once his hand is free from his scrub pants.  

It takes a while for his heart to settle down, for his breathing to fall under control again and he allows it, floats there as he wishes that Dew were here with him right now, a warm weight between his legs, fire all down his chest and stomach as he cradles him close, chasing away the chill that always falls over Aether after coming.  

“—ay we’re going to be back tomorrow, we’ve done all the ground work here, anyway, the rest is just boring admin work that can be done over Doom meetings.” Dew’s murmuring when he comes back into focus, “As soon as I see you baby, I’m going to get my hands all over you just like you deserve,” he promises, filthy and low in his ear, “Gonna have you coming so much you’ll be satisfied for days.”  

Aether hums, interested when his brain catches on the first part, still mostly focused on the second half of Dew’s words, “Tomorrow?” he asks, hating the way his voice sounds so hopeful.  

Fuck, it’d been weeks though, since he’d last seen Dew. Since they’d been together. He misses him.  

“Yeah, baby,” Dew murmurs, “Our plane landed a bit ago, we’re at a hotel for the night, but Copia’s got a car coming to get us in the morning. We’ll be home before you know it.”  

Aether makes another noise, something choked, “Oh,” he says, looks down at the paper on the desk in front of him, half-finished inventory reports, “I’ve got to—”  

“Whatever it is, it can wait,” Dew says firmly, “You’ve got tomorrow off and maybe the day after, Copia’s feeling a bit benevolent,” he says that with a bit of a grin in his voice, “Inventory will be fine for a couple of days, besides, Copia said he’d work on whatever you didn’t finish, just leave it where you’ve got it and he’ll take over. No arguing with me, alright?”  

And well, Aether can’t argue, because he’s feeling a bit selfish, a bit like he wants to shirk his duties for a few days so he can spend time with Dew instead, something warm settling in the pit of his stomach. “Okay,” he settles on, feels the weight lifted off of his shoulders at the word as he leans back in the chair, making it squeak a bit under his weight.  

“Good boy,” Dew says sweetly, “Now, listen, I want you to hang up the phone and go get cleaned up, settle in our bed and before you know it, I’ll be there, waking you up with a kiss.”  

Aether thinks about his nest, the one he’d been working on since Dew had left, how it still smells like the two of them and how much he wants to be there now, “Okay, yeah,” he says, “I can do that.” He swallows, bites his lip, “I love you, Dew.”  

Dew hums softly, “I love you too, big guy, I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”  

When he hangs up the phone, it’s with warm feelings, and as he levers himself up out of the chair, he feels like he’s floating.  

He grabs his phone, scrolling through the few notifications that he has, there’s a couple of text messages that he’s not too concerned with answering tonight, another text from Dew that’s just a heart emoji and then a singular calendar notification.  

Aether raises an eyebrow but thinks nothing of it at first, locks up the office and deposits the key in the safe box for another staff member to find before he heads up from the infirmary and to his and Dew’s bedroom.  

Once he’s showered and settled into bed, wearing only his underwear and a thin t-shirt that used to be Dew’s at one point and is entirely too short on Aether and stretched out the from the number of times he’s squeezed into it, he picks his phone up again.  

Taps the calendar notification and blinks at the entry that had been added recently.  

Mandatory Leave 10.26 - 11.3 – Accepted by F. Imperator  

There’s a text, one that had come in while he was in the shower, from Copia this time.  

Dew may be a little grumpy in the morning, our car arrives in three hours to pick us up, we’ll be back before your heat starts. The others have stocked your room while you were working and I’ve taken the opportunity to clear your schedule for the next week just in case. Let me know if there’s anything you need <3  

He feels a surge of affection, sends back a heart in response and takes a moment to take stock of himself, feels the low simmer of something that had been bothering him for a while, something gnawing at him the entire time he’d been without Dew—and he didn’t think that it was heat, thought it was just something happening because Dew had been away for so long. His mind races a bit, wonders why his heat had decided to show now of all times—  

His phone buzzes again, a text from Dew.  

Go to sleep, Aeth. I can feel you thinking from all the way out here. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.  

He huffs quietly, sends back a fuck you and a heart a moment later, almost immediately, another text comes through.  

Of course, big boy, anything you need. I’ll even let you knot me if you want <3  

[kenposting]

Every Night is Ghoul's Night

Summary: Ken leads the way to the Real World to join Barbie for a new holiday he doesn't quite understand. Once he arrives, he learns that most things in this place are hard to understand.

WC: 1.4k + there's a few 4th wall breaks so if that is hard for u don't read this!! ken goes to the real world for a Halloween party and people there have seen the barbie movie

AN: i'm leaving town for like 9 days on the 18th and i just wanted to write something silly before i left!!! after seeing the movie my friend and i talked about being barbie and ken for halloween and it crossed my mind that that would probably confuse him lol. ps thank u for all ur kind words omg!!! i love ken so much and u guys make me want to just keep writing about him CRYING EMOJI!!! thank u seriously wtf u guys are so nice to me wtf .

Read other Ken stories here: Masterlist

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀ ⋆｡°✩ 🕸⋆｡°✩⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

He really was trying to understand it all. This felt like Patriarchy all over again. Turns out Halloween is not about tiny black sky dogs coming to bite you to assert their dominance (allegedly called “bats” like baseball), nor is it about evil vegetables that come to life and are filled with fire. Wild, I know.

“It’s okay you guys, I know what I’m doing, I’ve done this before.” 

Ken stuck out a dismissive hand, reminding the rest of the Barbies (and the Kens and Allen) that he’s been to the Real World (and even found his way back all by himself!) as he led the way. He wanted them to feel at ease – he remembered how worried he was the first time he went to the Real World. It was not like he expected at all.

He reassured them he definitely knows what's up. Except that he doesn’t. And he didn’t last time either. 

One (very long, as the passenger Barbies and Kens and Allen well exceeded the hundreds) car-rocket-boat-rv-bike-jetski-rollerblade trip later and Ken was met with Barbie in Venice Beach, just like last time. 

“Hi Ken! Hi Barbie! Hi Ken! Hi Barbie! Hi Barbie! Hi Ken!” 

He was so happy to see her and wanted to hear all about how she’d been and what she'd been up to (as well as thank her for inviting him and everyone over), but that must wait, lest he misunderstands Halloween any longer. 

He was on a mission, that’s for sure. 

All of the crew skated alongside Barbie, following her to her sorority house. Ken didn't know what that was, but he figured it didn't have to do with Halloween, so he wasn't interested. They were throwing a giant blowout party with all the students (and planned choreography, and a bespoke song) for 'Halloween', whatever that was. 

His original costume was a vampire but he scared himself in the mirror and cried so he settled instead for a cowboy (not that that had to be a costume, he liked to look like that anyways). 

It would’ve been more fitting to dress as a detective the way he wanted so desperately to know what all of this meant. The decorations were… so dark, literally zero sparkles, all of the people at the party looked badly injured, the music had words he’s never heard before, and the fruit punch tasted horrible – like a burning kind of horrible – none of it made any sense to Ken. And the girls were scary too. 

They were all touching him and laughing. He couldn’t tell if they were laughing at his confusion or just having fun, but something about it felt weird. They were looking at him in a way he didn’t understand, and he very much sensed an undertone of violence. 

“You were soo good in the movie, Ken!” 

He couldn’t tell you how many times he’d heard that tonight because he had stopped counting after 20 (he can’t count higher than 20). All the girls saying that to him were wearing Barbie’s clothes, like they had borrowed them from her. He didn’t know why. Wasn’t tonight about dressing up? That’s just what Barbie wore everyday back home. Even the Palazzo pants! 

And what movie? The God Father? Why did everyone keep bringing up The Movie™ like he was supposed to know what they were talking about? 

He excused himself to further analyze the situation, his eyes squinting and shifting, taking in all the information. The books he read back home said a lot of stuff about magic and evil spirits, but all he knew about magic was from Magic Ken’s earring, let alone what an ‘evil spirit’ was. None of this was appealing, and if he was honest, it all sort of frightened him. Who wants to hang around waiting for Patriarchy guys to jump out and scare you all night? 

Which they did. For who knows how many times (he stopped counting at 20). He knew this time they were definitely laughing at him, so excused himself. 

The air was cold and the lull of the music and people talking from inside spilled everywhere he went. He couldn’t escape it. It hurt his ears, but at least it wasn’t as loud out here. 

Sat on the front step outside under twinkling orange lights was a girl wearing nearly the same costume as him. 

He noticed she looked like she wasn’t enjoying herself much either, her chin resting in her palms folded over her lap. The flowers embroidered on her Cowgirl shirt matched his. Even the pattern at the base of his bell-bottoms was the same on her suede skirt. 

He stood beside her hesitantly, careful to not disturb her – and also worried she would try to scare him like everyone else had. 

“Sorry, is it okay if I sit here? This isn’t going how I thought it would.” 

“Oh, parties are for sure the worst part about Halloween.” 

Ken’s head tilted to the side, curious. 

“Worse than bat?” 

You smiled at him, patting the porch next to you, gesturing for him to join. 

“You mean bats? Like fruit bats? I think they’re cute.” 

“Cute?! Bats are much more dangerous than people realize. Even I know that. You know, Zoologist is not even my job. And it is not Pumpkin Carver, which is a common misconception. Yeah – ‘cause actually my job? It’s just–” 

“Beach? And what a good job you do at it? I saw the movie.” 

You watched as his brow furrowed. 

“What movie? Everyone keeps talking about some movie, did I miss something? All we have at home is The Wizard of Oz and The God Father and neither of those have beach.” 

“Oh my gosh, you haven’t seen it? You don’t even know?” 

“Know what?” 

“Is that even legal? Can Mattel release this without, like, asking for your permission?” 

“Permission for what?!” 

You took his hand, standing up. He followed suit, proving to be much taller than you’d expected. He kind of towered over you – and you had boots on (to complete the Ken look, of course). 

“C’mon, I’ll show you, but it’s going to be really weird to watch yourself and it will probably make you have some sort of existential crisis where you realize you were created by someone in the 60s.” 

His face screamed confusion, but he followed you anyway, the two of you strolling through the damp rain-soaked streets from this afternoon’s storm. The theater was only a few blocks away so you didn't mind walking – and it was nice to see the decorations and lights through the windows from parties.

“Hey, did you notice we’re matching!” 

“Yeah, Ken, I’m dressed as you.” 

He stopped walking, his boot spurs scraping the pavement. You stopped too, turning to face him. 

Tears were welling up in his eyes. 

“You… You dressed up… as me?” 

“Yeah. So did he. And him, and her, and them too.” 

You pointed to some of the trick-or-treaters (and even their parents) that walked on the sidewalks beside you. He hadn’t noticed, but you were right. All of them… All of them were dressed as him. And even he knew choosing a costume was a very important – maybe the most important – part of Halloween. 

“You mean… I’m cool enough that people here in the Real World want to look… like me?” 

His eyes were shiny and huge like a cartoon character. He looked ridiculous, falling apart right here in the road, the glow of the streetlamps glittering around him, but it did pull at your heartstrings a little. 

“Ken… You don’t get it. You’re an icon right now.” 

“I don’t know what that word means.” 

“Like… this movie. Everyone saw it to just have fun with their friends but you really changed a lot of people’s perspectives on some really important stuff. Mojo Dojo Casa Dreamhouses were flying off the shelves – gosh, you were even the most popular tattoo! You taught people something here – showed them a part of themselves they didn't know how to put words to.” 

“What is a tattoo?” 

You remembered it too, the first time you saw it and laughing before watching your friends bawl their eyes out towards the end. Here in The Real World you had heard about Skipper (although N-SYNC was a surprise…) so you knew it was possible, but it never dawned on you that the Barbies and Kens had no idea that you were all watching. Except Allen, for some reason. 

You watched as he just got more and more confused, taking his hand once again and guiding him to the theater. 

“Hey… is that a picture of me?” 

“Yes, Ken, that’s an advertisement for the movie.” 

He really didn’t have any idea. 

“Two tickets for Barbie please!” 

The guy in the booth was dressed as a vampire, Ken’s decidedly mortal enemy as of the last 24 hours. He looked awestruck. 

“Is that Ryan Gosling?” 

The two of you replied in unison;

“Who’s Ryan Gosling?” 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀ ⋆｡°✩ 🕸⋆｡°✩⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

[tarithenurse]

Living at night

Fandom: Original work, still Y/N reader Word count: 1925ish Content: Vampires, werewolves, ghouls, gore, near death experiences, memory loss. Future chapters: smut, healing, drama...stay tuned for individual chapter warnings! THIS HAS NOT BEEN BETAED – sorry! A/N: Yeah, I know, this is probably a bad idea but I’m sick (okay...recovering now) and I had this really realistic dream and my feverish brain was all like “WRITE IIIIIIIT!” and so I did and now I might as well post it just to prove that I’m alive. Is it any good? No clue, please let me know what you think. Tags are available in exchange for comments and/or reblogs.

1.

A memory flashes: darkness before opalescent moonlight. But it has to give way to the blurry buildings of the town as you stumble through the deserted streets. A single thought in you mind, whispered repeatedly and echoed by the one person next to you. Matteo. Your mind is too blurred to really know who Matteo is except it’s equivalent to safety. Matteo.

You’re scared. Confused. You don’t even remember the name of the person next to you who is promising to get you to where you need to go. But she’s familiar enough with the overdone makeup trying to cover the slightly gaunt, pale skin.

Then it happens, of course: rounding a corner, you rush past the door of a bar just as a group of men exit. Barely scraping one of them, it’s enough to set him off in a drunken slur of profanities as he lashes out against you. A wide swing of his arm that you surprisingly easily dodge...but the look of pure hatred on his face has you stumbling and you aren’t as lucky when he next strikes. The blow catches you across the cheek, sending you sprawling in a puddle.

“Filth,” he snarls, and his friends echo the distaste. “You’ve come to the wrong part of town, sucker. This is Matteo’s neighbourhood!”

“Matteo,” you whimper, making them laugh and jeer.

One of them pushes to the forefront, still keeping his distance, he gets low to study you in the light still spilling from the open doorway. “Lads...this is bad.”

“Hells yeah it’s bad...” the leader of the men cackles, “for her!”

“Matteo. Matteo?” It’s the only word from your lips, now a prayer for safety although you’re not sure if that’s based on reality.

A new whimper rises in your chest, long and whiny as the guy apparently in charge of the bullying pushes his own friend aside to step closer still. Crawling backwards away, you’re scrambling for a way out, only too late discovering that you’re in an alley with only one exit: the way you came in. Past the group.

“Matteo!”

“Hear that fellas? She’s begging for the boss to come finish her!”

Not once has he taken his eyes off of you, as though expecting you to fight back. But you’re so tired. Every limb in your body is aching. And still you can’t help but blink in astonishment at the spectacle that’s beyond the tears of fear: vibrant colours that put the gaudiest paintings to shame and it’s late into the night still. You can pick out green flecks in the man’s eyes, every hair in his scruffy moustache that doesn’t quite suit him – his jaw is too weak for it. You sense the wet air, and the stench of dog wafting from him.

Then the senses are blocked out by blinding terror as he is upon you, a strong hand around your throat.

“Matteo!” you cry out in panic.

His lips curl to bare his teeth. “That’s right, sucker, call for him. Give us an awoo, why don’t you?”

“This is a bad idea, Jack,” the only cautious member of the gang warns, standing off to the side as if wanting to witness it all anyways.

“One eensy, teensy awoo?” the guy called Jack simpers, slackening his grip on your throat.

It is teeny. More of a whimper or even a question, the thin howl barely makes it past your lips on the first try but it’s enough to make them all laugh. Except that one reluctant guy. When urged to try again, you manage a bit more volume at first but the sound dies as Jack lifts his hand and you see that instead of nails, he has claws.

It’s a nightmare! It must be.

“Matteo,” you still sob, desperate to be saved or woken up.

The shadow is preceded by a low rumbling growl and you have the delicious chance to witness a man’s face transition from smugness through surprise to resignation before Jack drops you on the ground. He never gets as far as to turn around or even stand up, though, before something tears through him.

You know, maybe more clearly than you want to, that the image of a man torn limb from limb will be forever burned into your mind...still you’re relieved because the figure that takes his place is one that you know you must recognize: Matteo.

Your saviour looks tall from your prone perspective. Heavy coat hanging open from broad shoulders and shortish hair almost vibrating with the pent-up rage that’s oozing from him. His a strong guy, a sinewy bulkiness honed by hours of work as a lumberjack, you think. Shack leader? You aren’t sure, but obviously his presence puts him in charge regardless and everyone has instinctively taken a couple of steps back.

Whimpering, as if it’s the only sound you know how to do, you stretch your hands towards him. You’re not sure if the hesitation on his behalf is real, but you know the scent that welcomes you by heart and he leans down to grasp your hand, pulling you to your feet, although there’s a hint of dog that you’ve never noticed before. Maybe he’s gotten a pet since last you saw him? When was the last time you saw him? You don’t remember and your spiralling thoughts are curbed as he pulls you close behind him, rounding on the group of men.

“Off limits. She’s not one of them,” Matteo growls, making the once so tough guys shuffle sheepishly. Then he rounds on the only guy that had tried to stop Jack: “Make sure it’s taken care off. Meeting tomorrow night.”

You know the words are not meant for you, but you can’t help but feel that they’re caused by your presence. Your existence. Still, you don’t ask any questions as Matteo rushes you out of the alley and in a zigzag pattern towards his home. He seems annoyed that you have a hard time keeping up with him but he stays quiet about it, merely adjusting his pace after a grunt of surprise.

Perhaps your slow pace is the reason the hesitant guy catches up on the two of you. You notice it just as quickly as Matteo, but where his instinct is to pause briefly to allow the other man to fall into step, yours is to rush on, only halted by a strong arm about your waist.

“It’s okay,” Matteo whispers to you only, “it’s Al, you can trust him.”

What other choice do you have?

From then, there’s little way to go. A jangle of metal alerts you to keys being passed to Al so he can rush ahead and unlock the door, holding it open for you and Matteo.

“Basement,” your saviour grunts, now almost carrying you – and you’re thankful for it as your legs are threatening to give out from under you. You’ve never felt so weak before. “Cage.”

Perhaps the word should worry you, but you’re too tired to even register anything else than the soft bedding that smells deliciously of Matteo. You don’t even stir as something clangs next to you.

Mumbled voices to the side. Something about a “bait-bag” that makes no sense. Then retreating footsteps before Matteo comes to sit on his haunches as close to you as the metal bars allow.

“Who did this to you?” But you don’t know. Can’t recall. It doesn’t matter anyways – not anymore. “Shit, Y/N, you need to drink.” You are thirsty. Parched. Starving actually but in a weird way that you don’t recognize. “Well, I’m no good for you, so hang in there.”

It takes a moment more before the sound of Al coming down the stairs makes Matteo sigh in relief. Then a plastic bag is shoved into your hands and you manage to peek a glimpse from under heavy eyelids.

Donor blood. Like some sick joke.

Here you are, thirsty like fuck and they give you that all of things? Maybe it’s just a look alike, wine instead of blood or maybe some juice...but no, every instinct tells you this is the real deal. Groaning, you push the bag aside.

“No. You gotta drink, Y/N,” Matteo admonishes, “need to rebuilt your strength. Knife.” The last word is aimed at Al who complies, handing your friend (is he your friend?) the tool so he can cut off one of the stoppers. Tossing the knife aside, he grabs you by the neck through the bars so he can tilt your head upwards, mouth agape and slowly, gingerly begin to pour the contents into you.

You should be revolted. And at first you do gag but that also means swallowing a bit of it and you swear to everything in existence that it’s the best stuff you’ve ever had. Still too weak to lift your arms fully, you only manage to hang on to Matteo’s wrist as he feeds you every last drop. And with each ruby bead of liquid, you feel strength return.

“That’s it,” he coos, “just a bit more.”

That bit is gone too soon, but now you have the power to sit on your own, eyes taking in every detail of the cage you find yourself in. Heavy metal with scratches and notches. The floor is padded with blankets. The place is almost as high as you, just missing a foot or two and it’s perfectly cubic.

“Sorry about that, Y/N,” Matteo smiles wryly, motioning the metal bars, “at least they were not intended for you...but you’re gonna be wild the next couple of weeks at least.”

“What’s...? Why did...? I don’t understand,” you finally manage.

Matteo sighs. “Yeah...this will be a longer explanation. Get comfy.”

He tells you story of monsters and myths, most familiar yet impossible. This story features a small town of supernatural beings that have manages to live under some sort of truce or cease fire, where the minority of “normal” humans are wonderfully unaware.

Until now.

You shouldn’t believe Matteo...but you do because something tells you that this isn’t just some weird vivid dream that you’ll wake up from any moment. You wish you could: sitting in a cage in the basement of the only person you can remember, splattered in drying blood...yeah, that’s not anything that’s been on your bucket list.

“You don’t remember who sired you?” Matteo asks not for the first time. Shaking your head, all that you can recall is walking home after a long shift. Exhausted as always these days. “Well...maybe once you’ve rested up. Better get you cleaned up anyways, I guess. I’ll head to your place for some spare clothes and stuff...anything you want from there?”

“Why can’t I go with you?” You don’t like the idea of him leaving. Or rummaging through your place.

“We’ve been over it: town’s split in three and this is the Wolves’ Den. Vamps are on the other side of Main.”

There’s nothing condescending in his voice, just cold fact that reminds you that yeah, you did just down a bag of blood.

“How long?” You motion to the bars.

“Depends how quickly you calm down.”

“I’m calm.”

Matteo scoffs. “You just fed, of course you’re calm. Let’s see how you’re doing when I come back,” and with that he gets up and leaves, taking Al with him and locking the basement door behind him.

[jungkxook]

—demon-etized. (m)

⟶ pairing: namjoon x reader

⟶ analytics: youtuber!namjoon / ghost-hunters au / smut

⟶ words: 6,260

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ warnings: idiot ghost hunter bts, ghosts making namjoon horny ig?, slight exhibitionism, fondling, fingering, standing sex, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ description: in this episode of unsolved, namjoon and the boys risk their lives by spending overnight in an abandoned and supposedly haunted asylum in the hopes of finding some ghouls — but the boys are pretty certain the real reason for the spooky moaning isn’t allowed to go on youtube. ***warning: very scary!!!***

⟶ pinned comment: this is part of the not clickbait series!

“Well, this has been fun. Let’s go home now.”

You were starting to think this was a very stupid idea ━ but stupid would be an understatement. The looming asylum standing before you with nothing but the darkened midnight sky in the foreground acts as a foreboding omen that you’ve seen one too many times in pretty much any horror movie. The creepy abandoned estate offering itself up as a seemingly perfect and totally innocent means of adventure for a group of friends only to end in murder or a demon possession should have been enough to scare you all away. Fortunately, you’re not the only somewhat sane person (and you say that very loosely because you did, after all, agree to come with the boys), because you’re both startled yet thoroughly relieved to hear the worried statement coming from a very tense-looking Jimin.

It really was a stupid idea. Spending overnight (which, really, just translates to a few hours and a clickbait-y title for the video) in a supposedly haunted and derelict asylum from the early 1900s offered all sorts of problems that weren’t just supernatural. Squatters, creepy cult members, and risking getting whatever sorts of diseases are riddling the walls of the ancient dwelling were starting to get to you. But it was Namjoon’s idea to come here for his next video upload especially when considering the fact that for the entire month of October he and his group of YouTuber friends host a fan favourite ghost-hunting series titled Unsolved ━ and, whatever Namjoon usually suggests, the boys usually tag along with, no matter how daring or how stupid it may be.

“We literally just got here,” Hoseok retorts as he hops out of one of the two cars you and your friends had shared on the way here. It was a three hour drive from the city with the estate being much larger than you expected it to be, four main buildings sprawling out amongst empty fields. At least the stories of its creepy atmosphere are all the same. Was it the cool autumn breeze sending chills down your spine or something else entirely? The moment you stepped foot out of the car and gazed upon the asylum, it was almost as if you could feel something watching you. But that was definitely just you imagining things. “Don’t be a pussy, Jimin. What’s the worst a ghost is gonna do to you? Rattle some chains? Ooooh, spooky.”

“Okay, first of all,” Jimin rounds on the older boy almost immediately, “vaginas are the strongest muscles in female anatomy, so I’m not being a pussy. Let’s get it right, okay? I’m being a little bitch, and I embrace it. Second of all, if a ghost does rattle some chains near me, I will definitely be booking it back to the car and leaving all of you stranded here.”

From beside you, Yoongi snorts amusedly. He’s the resident non-believer amongst your group of friends so you always wonder why he even bothers to come to these things. He says it’s to help filming, but you think he’s banking on maybe one day seeing a ghost even despite all that charade of hostility. Even now, he’s already filming for the vlog, getting shots of the building but also mostly just Jimin and Hoseok’s banter in the background. “If a ghost does anything tonight, I’ll be genuinely surprised.”

“Something is going to happen tonight. I can feel it,” Jungkook says confidently. He’d been huddled over the opened side door of one of the cars with Namjoon and Jin, sifting through their high-tech equipment that you’re certain they just bought off of Amazon or something. “This place is one of the most haunted places near us. Have you even heard the stories? Apparently there are two most popular ghost sightings. One is some girl━”

“Is she hot?” Taehyung asks.

“She’s dead,” Jungkook deadpans. “Also, pretty sure she was eleven when she died from tuberculosis. Anyway, she’s more of a benevolent ghost. They say you can hear her laughing sometimes. There’s a lot of activity in one of the kids’ rooms. And the other sighting is less friendly. They just call it a shadow man because it’s hard to see its face, but you can always see an outline of a person walking by in one of their treatment buildings. There’s even been physical attacks, with one person saying they got scratched by an invisible force.”

Jimin visibly winces. “Sounds very much like a demon than a ghost to me.”

“Sick!” Hoseok exclaims. You’re worried to find that the group’s morale (aside from yours and Jimin’s) isn’t any less vivacious than when Jungkook started his story. “This is gonna be awesome.”

But you can’t help but to roll your eyes, your feigned boredom really just a weak attempt at hiding your own fright. “Oh, shut up. That’s such bullshit.”

“Is it?” Jungkook quirks a brow, challenging you.  

“Well, whatever happens, we’re gonna catch it.” This confident statement comes from Namjoon. After he hands out the pieces of tech to the rest of his friends, he glances upward at the asylum with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Come on. Let’s find us some ghosties.”

As the group begins to follow Namjoon towards the nearest building, Taehyung can be heard wolfishly quipping aloud, “Time to rock and roll, ghoul boys! And, er, girl.”

“Don’t call us that,” Yoongi grumbles.

It’s comforting to hear the rest of the group erupt into fits of entertained laughter, but any banter is quick to subside as you walk up to the building. You’re relieved when Jimin decides to hang back with you and doesn’t seem to protest when you start to cling to his arm as you’re all ushered through the main entrance of the building and into utter darkness only broken apart by the dim glow of your flashlights. If you weren’t already so frightened, maybe some of it would be comical, like the way the front doors creak open so very slowly in suspense.

Under Jimin’s breath, you can hear him mumbling in chagrin, “We should have gotten holy water.”

As your eyes adjust to the darkness within, you’re able to make out that the inside is just as horrifying as it was on the outside. Dust and debris hang heavy in the air and on the ground, and almost every inch of any surface within the building is covered in graffiti works of art. 

“Oh, fuck that,” Jin scoffs. “We only just stepped foot into here and this place is already giving me goosebumps.”

“Aw, sweet, bro! Check this out!” Hoseok says abruptly, startling almost all of you. He’s standing a bit further off down one hall, beckoning the rest of the group to follow. As you approach him, you can make out what sort of graffiti marking on the ground has suddenly grabbed his attention. “Who wants to lay on the pentagram with me?”

“No one,” You retort.

“I will!” Jungkook says at once, much to your dismay.

Yoongi lets out an audible strained sigh. “If any of you fucks get possessed and kill me, I’m never gonna forgive any of you. Just letting you know ahead of time.”

“Yeah, what are you gonna do?” Hoseok asks. “Come back and haunt us?”

“No, I’ll be dead. Ghosts aren’t real,” Yoongi says. “But I will still be very angry.”

“Noted.”

Before Jungkook or Hoseok can haggle Yoongi into filming them laying on the pentagram drawing and potentially offering their souls up to whatever demon lays waiting beneath it for their souls, the group is moving on. You explore the first bottom half of the building together in a tense silence before making your way up the dilapidated stairs to one of the treatment rooms that Jungkook makes certain to point out is where the infamous shadow figure is often seen. Taehyung decides to suggest, “Should we try the spirit box?”

You almost groan aloud. You fucking hate that thing, for obvious reasons. 

Whether or not you believe in it, the loud gurgling noise is always unsettling and you’re already on edge. Still, you sit back with Jimin as the rest of the boys nod in agreement and fiddle with the piece of tech until it’s been turned on. You’re immediately met with a cacophony of crackling radio static so deafening that your instinctual reaction is to cover your ears. You refrain miraculously, but you still cower in one corner with Jimin as the boys listen intently to the noise.

“Is anyone here?” Namjoon calls out to no one in particular. “If you are, can you give us a sign? Move a chair or say something or push Yoongi━”

“What the━?” Yoongi gawks. “Why me?”

“‘Cause you said you don’t believe in them.”

Yoongi clamps his mouth shut, and nods in a way that admits Namjoon has a point. At that moment, there’s a pique in the static, a jumble of inaudible words that almost sounds humanlike.

“What was that?” Hoseok asks. “Sounded like… It almost sounded like it said ‘leave.’”

“Leave?” Jimin squeaks. “Think we should take that as a sign, guys.”

“Nah, I definitely heard Steve, not leave,” Yoongi says.

Jungkook frowns. “Who the hell is Steve?”

“Maybe that’s his name,” Yoongi suggests nonchalantly. “Be nice.”

After a handful of minutes of even more strained silence, the boys are only able to discern certain words that you’re positive don’t have anything to do with the asylum or ghosts. At long last, they shut the machine off and the room is once more plunged into a formidable silence so dense that you almost miss the spirit box. But almost as soon as the piece of tech has been silenced, does Jimin cry out in pure anguish. “What the fuck was that?”

The boys instantly round on their startled friend who is now cowering behind you. The colour has all but drained from his face, eyes wide in a frenzied panic.

“What’s wrong?” Namjoon asks.

Jimin looks hysterical as he shoves a pointed finger in the direction of the wall opposite the room in the corridor. “I swear on my life I just saw something move out of the corner of my eye over there. Like a-a person o-or something. Looked like a shadow. I don’t know! I thought it was one of you guys━”

“Stop it, Jimin.” Your voice treads on apprehension as you look over at the alarmed boy. “You’re scaring me.”

“Yeah, ease up, Jimin,” Namjoon says, though he seems more entertained than anything. “I’d prefer if you didn’t throw my girlfriend headfirst towards a demon or ghost or whatever it is you saw.”

“Joon.” His name rolls off your tongue in a scolding moan as you rub wearily at your eyes. His words do little to help console you, and you’re certain it fairs even worse for poor Jimin.

“I’m sorry. I just━” Jimin pulls you tighter in front of him. “I swear I saw something. Holy shit.”

Jungkook’s the first one outside the room, his own camera in his hands as he goes to investigate. As the rest of the boys file outside in the corridor, you drag Jimin along with you, favouring not to be alone in any part of the building. You can hardly see anything, let alone a shadow. 

Jungkook turns back around at long last, a devious grin on his face as he finds Jimin’s wandering crazed stare. “Maybe it was the shadow man. Told you he exists.”

“I don’t care what it was. My heart almost fell out of my ass,” Jimin gasps. He clutches at his chest over his heart, for added emphasis. “Let’s get out of here.”

You aren’t quite sure if the boys believe him, but you do notice how quick they are to move on from the room and corridor. A palpable tension hangs heavy in the air that makes you realize perhaps the boys are starting to lose their cool under pressure. 

As you reconvene below on the main floor of the building, Namjoon pipes up. “Let’s split up. See if we can find anything on our own.”

“Okay, Scooby Doo,” Jin snorts. “You do know that this is how every horror movie begins, right? There’s power in numbers.”

“Yeah. Which is what we’ll all be saying when this video reaches trending on YouTube with a million views,” Namjoon says, matter-of-fact. “Which we can only do if we get some interesting content. So, let’s split up into pairs of two. We’ll meet back here in an hour.”

“We could just fake it,” Jimin suggests desperately. “Like every big YouTuber does. The magic of editing, guys.” But no one seems to be listening anymore as the group begins to splinter off. Yoongi and Jungkook decide to venture back upstairs in pursuit of the elusive and supposed shadow man, while Hoseok and Taehyung wander outside. Lost and dumbfounded, Jimin gawks around at his retreating friends, calling out in one last effort, “Anyone? …No? Okay, cool.”

He nearly lets out a yelp when Jin clasps a hand on the boy’s shoulder in a reassuring manner. “You’ll be okay, Jimin. C’mon, let’s go.”

Finally alone with Namjoon, he offers up his outstretched hand to you. You take it at once, gripping his palm a little tighter than necessary as he pulls you towards him. 

“You doing okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” You lie, even though you know he can see right through it. 

You’re content to find that he at least keeps your hand in his even as he tugs you along with him to explore the rest of the asylum. You decide to leave the building you’re both in and wander to another one where you stumble upon Hoseok and Taehyung on the main floor briefly. Then, making your way upstairs, you find nothing out of the ordinary but empty rooms that you suspect were once upon a time sleeping quarters for the patients. It’s less frightening than the other buildings, though still a little unnerving the longer you stay to explore. You climb the stairs until you’re on the third landing and inspect almost every room to find nothing. 

At some point, you let out a wavering sigh. Namjoon is busy waving around an EMF reader in a room. It’s empty aside from a dusty cot and a broken wardrobe, amongst a few other oddities covered in a thick layer of cobwebs and dirt. You could have sworn you’ve heard footsteps in almost every room you’ve entered that wasn’t either yours or Namjoons, and the strange sensation that you’re being followed hasn’t been able to shake from you. “Joon? Can we go back now? I’m starting to get a little spooked.”

Namjoon comes to a halt at once, turning around to face you. He gives your palm a comforting squeeze. “Hey, you’re okay. There’s nothing to be scared of. I don’t mean to sound like Yoongi but I highly doubt we have to worry about any ghosts.”

“Well, what do you think Jimin saw?”

“Who knows?” Namjoon shrugs. “It was probably just his imagination. Your mind plays tricks on you in the dark, doesn’t it? Here, let’s talk about something else to distract you.”

“Like?”

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as Namjoon considers another thought. You don’t even realize the smug smirk unfurling on his face until it’s too late. “Well… I had an idea earlier. Just a passing thought, really, but I bet it’d be fun anyway.”

“What was it?”

“We could probably have a quickie in one of these rooms and the boys would never know any different.”

You nearly choke at this, sputtering for air as you reach out to flick Namjoon’s shoulder. ��You’re unbelievable.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No,” You admit sheepishly. He places his hands on your hips then, pulling you delicately towards him in a manner that makes it hard to focus now. “But I don’t know how I feel about ghosts watching us. Also, the couple that has sex in any horror movie usually ends up dying first.”

Namjoon shakes his head at you, albeit a little amused at your worrisome thoughts. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you. At least not while I’m here.”

“Coming from the man who tripped going up the stairs at your dorm the other day,” You point out tauntingly. The distant reminder and the sound of his abrupt laughter is enough to momentarily soothe your hammering heart. 

Namjoon gasps, feigning a look of mock hurt. “What’s that supposed to mean!”

“Means I love you very much but I don’t know how well you’d fair against ghosts or demons.”

“Ahh, I see how it is.” 

He sounds mildly offended and pokes his fingers at your sides but, in the ensuing scuffle to flee from his grasp, the both of you trip and fumble until you’re pressed up against the nearest wall, the sound of your snickers like music to his ears. He comes colliding against your front, hands digging into your hips. He leans forward to kiss your lips slowly, feeling you smile against him. A delightful chuckle bubbles at your mouth and he parts from you in the next moment wiggling his brows suggestively while a teasing smirk stretches at his face so wide, his dimples start to poke through.

“Wanna?” he asks. 

It’s a simple question, weighing heavy with dirty implications ━ and honestly? You’re kind of into it. Or maybe that’s just because he returns to kissing at your lips, only this time at the corners of your mouth, then the underside of your jaw. Tantalizing motions that seem to make your head spin violently. Your head lolls back against the wall behind you as he droops his head to your neck, lips meeting with the soft flesh of your throat to suck a delicate blossoming hickey there.

“Okay,” You rasp, “so maybe we can spare some time for this.”

“Ah, so now you’re interested.” His voice is huskier now, muffled by the way he busies himself by nipping at the same spot on your throat. He hears your breath hitch, feels the way you part your legs just slightly enough to have him sink further against you. He marvels at your decision in the morning to throw on a skirt and a pair of thick wool tights. At the time, you had said it was because the weather wasn’t too brisk outside just yet; now, he was thanking you silently for unknowingly picking just the right outfit for the occasion. 

“Namjoon…” Your voice is strained now, a mix between a plea and a whine and he grunts against your neck.

It takes Namjoon a moment to rack his brain, realizing that he finds it hard to even form a proper sentence anymore. “Don’t even need to feel my dick in you. Just wanna get you off, baby. Can I?”

You’re already practically drooling. “Think the boys will notice if we’re gone a little longer?” 

“Who cares?” Namjoon quips. “Jimin’ll probably think we got possessed and lost in the demon world or something.”

You giggle, though your voice splinters off into a soft moan as he continues to nip and suck at your neck. His hand falls to your thighs then, fingers brushing upward faintly until he meets the short hem of your skirt before disappearing beneath it. His hand comes to grasp at the delicate curve of your ass, his palm hot and firm against your soft flesh. 

He groans into your neck. “Been dying all night to touch you.”

“Then don’t stop.”

If the way his hardening cock now forms against your inner thigh any inclination, you don’t think he has plans on doing so. Instead, you watch as he lifts his free hand to your mouth, fingers tapping at your lips in a wordless motion. “Open up.”

You do as you’re told, lips parting just enough to wrap around his two fingers. He gazes at you with hooded eyes as you suck at his digits, tongue laving against the sturdy form in your mouth until his fingers are coated thick with your saliva. His other hand, still attached to the rump of your ass, moves like water over your skin to your thigh once more, nudging you aside just enough, pinching delicately at the skin there; he pulls his fingers from your mouth then, then lets the same hand venture under your skirt in a similar fashion. He wastes no time in pushing aside the material of your panties, pressing his digits at your core, watchful eyes staying fixated on yours if only to watch your every expression. His dampened fingers slide over your folds, spreading them open, running across them, admiring the way your stickiness already forms between your legs. 

“Joon…” You cling to him tighter, both to steady yourself against the sudden ministrations and to shield yourself more from view, though you’re certain there’s a slim chance the boys will come across you and Namjoon like this. You hope.

Namjoon’s fingers slip past your folds then, slow and steady as he feels the tight constricting walls of your cunt. You throb around him, thinking only of his cock, imagining the girth of it fitting snug deep within you. The similar stretch of your walls, the fluid motion of his length burrowing in and out of you, wrecking you into shambles. Now, Namjoon wriggles his fingers upward, scratching at a spot within you that has you writhing against him, the slick wetness of your arousal sufficiently coating his fingers. His thumb finds your clit then, running small circles against the small bundle of nerves.

“So wet,” Namjoon moans, resting his forehead against yours. He notes the way your teeth sink into your lower lip, and pulls his free hand out from under your skirt to tap his fingers against your chin. “Gonna moan for me, baby? Let the boys hear you? Maybe wake the dead?”

“You’re such a brat,” You simper through a shuddering breath, and if you weren’t so consumed by him then maybe you would have laughed at the joke he manages to squeeze in at the last moment. But he’s not wrong. What’s the point in keeping silent in an abandoned building that you’re positive only you and your friends are currently occupying? How much longer do you expect to keep quiet, when the way he’s making you feel begins to slowly burn at your insides? 

He curls his fingers deep in you, and your jaw unhinges in a silent gap. You wonder how long you can last, face burning with every passing second as he fingers you closer and closer to your high. Your hips jut outward to meet his hand with every motion, grinding against his knuckles in a desperate need to get off. You’re shameless about it too, fingers gripping his shirt tightly, brows scrunched together in hardened dedication. 

“Such a pretty little mess,” Namjoon hums. “Want you to cum on my hand, baby girl.”

“Fuck, Namjoon━” You whimper now, head lulling back as he twists his fingers further in you. 

But, as soon as you do so, the echoing sound of footsteps has your eyes darting to the darkened corridor. You make out the sound of oblivious chatter, and the familiar voices of Taehyung and Hoseok echoing from somewhere down below. They must be two floors down, though you can hear them screaming at nothing in particular, except for a string of profanities that meet your ears.

“Jesus, fuck!” That definitely sounds like Taehyung, voice shrill with worry. 

“Chill!” There’s Hoseok, but you think he was also screaming moments ago with Taehyung. “It’s just a spider.”

“I don’t care! Get it off of me!”

“Bunch of dumbasses,” Namjoon shakes his head rigidly, a fleeting grin forming on his face that is quick to fade as he curls his fingers upwards further into you. And, while your attention is somewhat fixated on the boys, you find yourself treading a fine line of not giving a fuck as Namjoon’s fingers stay buried deep within your cunt. Still, Namjoon can sense the slight urgency in your demeanor when your hands wind around his neck to tug at his hair, as if to gesture to the strangers that he already knows are nearby. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs reassuringly, voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re doing so good, love.”

He slows his fingers almost to a halt as you burrow your face in the crook of his neck. Your walls continue to clench around his fingers, and he adds a third finger to stretch you out just enough in a teasing leisure manner. He does it on purpose too, this much you know for certain, as he pinches playfully at your waist. It’s lewd, the idea of him fingering you out in public like this but the emboldened adrenaline coursing through your veins doesn’t want him to stop. By now, your high overwhelms everything else, causing you to writhe against Namjoon as he cradles you to him. You cum moments later, your orgasm overcoming you before you can sense it, trembling beneath his hands as he continues to finger you through it. Warm, wet arousal leaks from your core, coats his fingers all over as a punctuating whimper of his name tumbles from your lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he says gently. “Let everyone hear how dirty you are. Let it all out.”

Your thighs shake, squeezing shut around his hand, and all he can do is rub soothing circles into your hips with his free hand. He waits for your breath to steady, as the coil in your belly loosens, instead taking the time to admire you to your fullest, drunken hooded eyes glazed over in that perfect expression he loves.

“Want your cock in me now, Joon,” You whine breathlessly. The whining persistence in your voice excites Namjoon, only amplified tenfold by the way you begin nipping and sucking at his neck. 

“Now?” he asks.

“Now.”

Almost instantly, there’s a noticeable shift in his expression, a shit-eating smirk tugging at his mouth. You smother the rest of it before it can become too smug, folding your lips over his. Still, he hums through your eager kissing, “Yeah? Gonna let me fuck you like this, love? Take you raw against this wall, right here, right now?”

“Yes, please,” You mewl. Growing restless, you beg silently, “Namjoon.”

“Better make it quick then, hm?” 

You can only nod, still in a daze from the orgasm that still courses through your veins. Namjoon’s quick to oblige, pulling his hands from your heat and wiping your slick wetness off on his thigh. Clumsy hands between the both of you fumble to undo the button of his jeans, hastily undoing them just enough to free his straining cock from within. He wedges himself between your legs, hiking your skirt farther up your thighs, and he hurries to free his length from its confinements, wild locks spilling out onto his forehead and into your own line of sight. You push his hair up and away from his face, though your fingers grip suddenly at the roots of his locks when he grips your thigh and hoists it up to his hip, and then pushes himself into you at once, the tip of his warm cock easily coaxed by your already wet walls. He moans into your neck but muffles it halfheartedly by kissing along your throat.

“Easy there, boy,” You snicker, though your own words are a weak drunken slur, drowning out into a muffled whimper as he thrusts himself into you all the way. His hips meet yours roughly, grinding against you as your walls stretch around his throbbing cock.

“I’m needy,” he whines. “Just wanna feel you around me.”

He wastes no time in moving again, pulling his hips back only to thrust into you, adopting a steady fluid pace in such a way that has your head lolling back against the wall, and your mouth popping open in a silent moan as you shift beneath him. The wall of the building behind you is rough and jagged but you don’t feel it, not with the way he continues to thrust into you. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, stretching you apart in such a way that has him pummeling his length into your core just right. 

“Fuck,” he grunts into your neck. Impatient hands move to yank your shirt up to your chest, pulling your bra down just enough for your breasts to pop out. He moves to leave a wet trail of kisses to your breasts, catching one of your nipples between his teeth and sucking harshly at it. The new sensation has your own walls clenching around him, and he almost comes undone then. Against your chest, you can hear him murmur breathlessly, “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“Mmm,” You tug harshly at the roots of his hair. An unabashedly loud moan nearly tumbles from your lips before you can bite it back. Elsewhere, you can hear the sound of faint footsteps once more in the far distance, Taehyung and Hoseok much closer this time (quite possibly on the same floor as you, but the opposite end), but you don’t seem to care much anymore about the potentiality of being caught. “Fuck, Namjoon━”

“You like being fucked like this?” he rasps. “Out in public, for anyone to see?”

You feebly muster a nod, lips parting in a silent moan safe for the sound of your hot panting in his ear. Hurried yet deep shuddering strokes, he fucks into you again and again until your head is spinning. Every thrust sends a jolt up your spine and, still riddled by your first high, your body is quick to turn into shambles beneath him. Your hands flail outward to grasp onto every inch of his body, hands slithering beneath the material of his shirt, fingernails to dig crescent shapes into his torso, then snaking downward to grasp at his bum, pulling him in closer each time he rolls his hips into yours.

“Joon…” Your voice is an exhausted moan when it meets his ear. He almost doesn’t hear it, instead too caught up in the way your panting breaths mingle with the crude wetness of his cock delving past your folds each time. Somewhere, once more, in the distance even closer this time is the sound of footsteps once more. The thought of someone walking in one you like this━Namjoon wedged between your thighs, drilling his leaking cock into your wet cunt and tearing you to utter shambles━does something chaotically good to you. “Not gonna last.”

“Me neither,” he gasps. “Don’t care. Just wanna cum. Just wanna feel you cum around me.”

His thrusts begin to tread into sloppy territory, fervently itching to get both of you off. You reach your second high first, tumbling towards it with open arms. You can’t contain yourself, the tempting moan dancing upon the tip of your tongue, burning in your throat as your orgasm twists at your belly. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna━” 

But your voice splinters off into a delicious sounding whimper. Wary of being caught by your wandering friends when you’re both so close to being undone (because, really, the idea of someone else hearing you whimper because of how good his cock is exhilarates him), Namjoon’s hand clamps over your lips and you welcome it graciously, favouring the idea of his fingers poking into your mouth so that you have something to distract your moaning. It still comes, broken and inaudible, smothered by Namjoon’s hand, as your tongue lavs around his digits. 

Now, you’re truly a sight to behold, making Namjoon’s length twitch amongst your walls. Exhausted, fucked out eyes gawk at him, too weak to carry on, instead jutting your hips forward to meet his with each thrust. 

“Shit,” he whines. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N━”

He comes moments later, frantic slaps of his own hips having him spilling his seed sloppily into your already wet cunt. The abrupt sensation as your own walls clenching so impossibly tight around him, he feels as if he can’t move, though it’s not as if he immediately plans to. Instead, after a few more rocky thrusts into you to ride out both of your highs, he collapses against your chest and you smooth your fingers delicately through his hair. 

It’s a miracle when you both manage to finally pry themselves off of one another. As Namjoon hurries to tuck himself back into his jeans, you fidget with your bra and shirt, and then the hem of your skirt, tugging it as low as it can go. His cum is still warm and sticky between your legs, slowly beginning to run down your inner thighs. 

You catch him looking at some point and ask curiously, “What?”

“Nothing,” he says innocently. “Just wondering how you still manage to look so beautiful even after having my cum fucked in you.”

You roll your eyes as you reach out to ruffle his messy hair in an attempt to tame the damage you’ve caused. He smiles wide at the effort anyway. 

“Decent?” he asks.

“Good enough,” You say. “Now, let’s find the boys before anyone notices we were gone for too long.”

And this, he doesn’t disagree with.

Later, when you and Namjoon have regrouped with the rest of the boys back by the cars parked outside the asylum, everyone looks a little more on edge than when you left them. Except for maybe you and Namjoon. You wonder if the boys notice, judging by the way you and Namjoon keep giggling amongst yourselves.

“So,” Jungkook says, “did you guys find anything?”

“Nothing,” Jin admits. “Just freaked out Jimin a little bit more.”

The boy in question can be seen scowling to himself, arms folded over his chest. “All I gotta say is screw this place.”

Hoseok looks indifferent as he reviews a recording on the camera in his hands. When he speaks, his voice is a casual drawl. “Dunno. Thought we heard some suspiciously loud moaning from one part of that building that I’m almost positive Namjoon and Y/N were exploring.”

At this, Taehyung bursts out into wolfish laughter, only prompted further by your sudden horrified expression that you try to play off nonchalantly and fail miserably at doing. So they had heard you two after all? “Ha! They sure were exploring something.”

While the rest of the boys look either intrigued or rightfully confused, Namjoon shakes his head defiantly. “Nah, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Resisting the urge to hide behind your hands, you bite your tongue and try to sift through your brain for something else to discuss. Over the childish giggling sounding from Taehyung and Hoseok, you ask, “Well, did you guys find anything? Thought we heard you exploring the third floor.”

“Third floor?” Hoseok echoes, dumbfounded. “We didn’t get that far.”

“But I could have sworn I heard you guys.”

Hoseok’s brows knit together. He exchanges a look with Taehyung, then returns his stare to you. “You probably heard Tae screaming like a lunatic because a spider was on him. We were only in there long enough to try the spirit box out again, but that was on the second floor. Then the spider thing happened. Then, we left.”

Now, this is alarming. You gap at the boys as your mind tries to piece together the puzzles of this dilemma. Had you heard the boys, or perhaps something else entirely? Or maybe it was just your imagination. Namjoon did say your mind plays tricks on you ━ but the sound of footsteps had been so vivid. 

Even Namjoon looks stupefied, gawking at Hoseok. “Wait, you’re not joking, are you?”

“No,” Taehyung shakes his head. “We were filming the whole time. We can show you. Are you guys joking?”

“No,” You promise. “We were━ Erm━ We got distracted. We weren’t really paying much attention but━”

You’re fortunate when Yoongi decides to speak up, interrupting your embarrassed stammering. “So then what did you guys hear…?

A beat of silence passes amongst your group of friends. One-by-one, you each turn to look up at the haunting asylum still standing behind you, the night blurring its shape into one incomprehensible monstrosity. Okay, so maybe the ghost stories about this place are true. A shiver runs down your spine. 

Then━

“So does that mean the ghost is a Peeping Tom or━?” Jungkook asks. You wonder if you should be concerned by his serious tone.

The boys howl with laughter at the thought, though you’re still admittedly a little shaken up by the idea of a ghost watching you and Namjoon bone. Maybe you asked for it, what with deciding to have a quickie in a haunted asylum. 

“I don’t know, but can we please get out of here?” You press thinly. “Jimin was right. Screw this place.”

If the boys are as deeply unsettled by yours and Namjoon’s sudden revelation, you don’t know. You all manage to pack up your belongings and clamber in the cars in record timing, speeding away from the asylum unscathed. And if you really did just witness a ghost encounter, then you suppose it isn’t all that bad. 

At the very least, Namjoon’s video does make it to the trending page.

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[thebookwormfairy]

Buzzfeed Unsolved Part 3

Here's my contribution for Spooky season. This will be mainly class salt but there will be a little bit off the maribat team we love and their usual antics

Lila couldn't believe it

The whole point of pushing Marinette out of class life was to isolate her enough so that Lila would be the new class favorite but not enough that she'll leave

Who was suppose to to provide the class with free sweets and plan all the class outings and events

But here Lila was listening to Ms. Bustier as she made the announcement

Ms. Bustier: please take your seats class. We're going to hold elections for Class Representative

Alya: Shouldn't we wait for Marinette, Ms. Bustier? I mean she's the only one running right?

The rest of the class made sounds of agreement and nodded their heads

Lila tried not to roll her eyes

Ms. Bustier: Marinette will actually no longer be joining our class

Class: WHAT?!

Ms. Bustier: Marinette has been given a great opportunity to go to Gotham Academy one of the top rated schools in the world

Lila seeing a opportunity to spin this in her favor decided to speak up

Lila: So Marinette decided to abandoned us, even though she knew we counted on her. I mean who's going to help with costumes, or babysitting, or give us bake goods?

Alya: That's a good point!

Nino: This is going to mean we're going to have to cut down on our dates

Mylene: Oh no! The next school play is going to be a disaster without Marinette's costumes!

Adrien: How could Marinette just abandon us like this! It's not like her!

Ms. Bustier: Okay class calm down. We don't want any akumas now. Let's focus on the election for the next class representative. Are there any volunteers?

Unsurprisingly Chloe's hand shot up

Ms. Bustier: okay we have Chloe, anybody else?

Alya: how about you Lila? You'd make a great representative

Lila: Oh no I'm far to busy with all my volunteering and obligations, but you should definitely do it Alya. You were Marinette's deputy after all

Alya raising her hand: You're right? I mean how hard could it be?

Alya learned exactly how hard it is when she won the election and was told all her new duties

Alya: Are you serious? Marinette never brought any of these up to me

Ms. Bustier: She didn't want to cut too much into your time

It took awhile but Alya finally got the hang of things

Though none of the class events were as extravagant as when Marinette was in charge

She made Nino her deputy hoping it would give them more time together

And it did but it also meant that a lot of her paperwork was late meaning the class couldn't do as much stuff

But did the class blame Alya for this?

No

They blamed Marinette

Because somehow it was her fault that Alya were too wrapped up in her boyfriend to actually do her job

A couple of months later Lila and Alya watched the Ghoul Gang's (a/n: That's Marinette, Damian, and Jason's group name) first video that somehow had 10k views and already had 25k subscribers

Alya: How is she so popular?

Lila: How does she have so many views?

Alya: How does she have more hits then the Ladyblog?!?

They started scrolling through the short list of other videos that was posted

Adrien: Oh are you watching Marinette's videos?

Alya: You knew about this?

Adrien: Yeah it's not really my taste but I want to support our friend dont you guys?

Lila making her eyes tear up: Why would we want to support somebody who abandoned us

Alya wrapping her arms around Lila: Yeah Adrien she makes a good point. Marinette didn't even say goodbye!

Adrien trying to placate the two: Maybe she didn't have a chance

Lila: Oh please if she really wanted to she would had MADE time to say goodbye, right Alya?

Alya: Yeah!

The two girls showed the rest of the class the videos

And they had to admit they liked them

They were fun to watch and it was nice to see the old Marinette again

Lila could see this and it made her seeth

She had to turn this to her benefit

And she knew just how to do it

Lila: I can't believe you guys would support Marinette! It's obvious that she's just bragging and showing off her new life!

Chloe: I can't believe I'm saying this but Lila's right! It's obvious that Dupen-Cheng is just rubbing her new life in our faces! It's utterly ridiculous!

Alya hated that she agreed with Chloe but she also spoke of her agreement

Some of the other classmates agreed with them, but others like the member of Kitty Section and Nathaniel just thought that Lila and Alya were still a little hurt that Marinette left and Chloe was just jealous

They decided they would still watch the show just not talk about it with the rest of the class

A year later and Lila couldn't stand how popular Marinette's little YouTube channel was

She also couldn't stand that she had a richer boyfriend then her own, Adrien

So with the help of Alya, Nino, and of course her boyfriend Adrien they decided to do their own show

That was SLIGHTLY similar (read: rip off) of the Ghoul Gang's own show

They had Lila and Adrien as the host

Because of course they had to be the host, they were models and had more experience on camera

Nino did all the camera work

And Alya did research and worked sound

A lot of people called them out for being an obvious ripoff of the Ghoul Group's show from their name to their editing

But what people found worst that they were a bad ripoff

Lila and Adrien didn't have the same chemistry as Marinette and Jason

Adrien just agreed with whatever Lila said

There was no fun banter

And because neither of them believed in ghost there were no funny freakouts

Their show was mostly watched just for ripping on

Which both Alya and Lila hated

How could Marinette be so popular!

Lila just had to find some way to prove that her show is superior to Marinette's

And she learned the purest opportunity when she saw Marinette and the rest of the Ghoul Gang filming on some random street

Marinette: now we're back the next day at Rue Des Chantres after our terrifying investigation last night

Jason: What are you talking about it Thumbelina? It wasn't scary here last night. We even ran into the local heroes.

Damian: Which we'll be showing in a special bonus video at the end of our Paris series.

Marinette: Thanks Damian. And it was to scary. Remember what we heard on the spirit box, Green Giant?

Jason: Beep dop ga Apple tatter cre mauf

Marinette: No the other thing

Jason: Do you think we could make apple taters? Could that be a thing?

Damian: Focus Todd

Marinette: Anyway thanks for watching and join us next time to see us explore the famous catacombs under Paris. And for now weither the Rue Des Chantres is haunted will remain...

Marinette/Jason: Unsolved

Damian: And cut! Great job guys!

Marinette going over to hug Damian: Thanks honey. Great job filming as usual

Marinette gave Damian a peck on the lips

Jason: Seriously are Apple tatters possible? They sound good

Marinette: Maybe we can do some experimenting when we get back to the bakery.

Jason pumping his fist: Awesome!

Damian: We just have to finish on time to head to the catacombs. You wouldn't believe what I had to go through to get the catacombs to ourselves tonight

Jason laughing: Calm down demon spawn besides this will be a nice bonus video

The trio walked away and Lils felt a smirk grow on her face

If she and her lackies could best those losers to the catacombs they could have a episode before them and it would look like they ripped off her group instead of the other way around

Later that night the Ghoul Group showed up at the Catacombs fully expecting to be let in only to be stopped by secruity

Secruity: Sorry folks the catacombs are close tonight. Apparently their filming something tonight

Lila looking smug: Yes that will be us we're the Ghoul Group.

Secruity: I'm sorry but the filming permit is under the name Damian Wayne. Is that one of you?

Alya: No, but their must he some mistake. Lila said she called and we were clear to film here tonight

Secruity: Sorry but without a permit you can't film here. Please move along

Lila: How dare you?! Do you no who I am?

Marinette from behind the group: No, but I do

Alya, Lila, Adrien, and Nino turned around to see Marinette, Damian, and Jason standing behind them

Damian walked forward to show secruity his ID

Alya, Nino, and Adrien: MARINETTE!

Marinette: Why are you trying to steal our filming location?

Alya: Why did you abandon us?

Marinette: What are you talking about?

Alya: You abandoned us! You left without saying a word! Who did you expect to pick up the slack after you left?! Who did you expect to do costumes for the school play, or run fundraisers or babysit Chris or the twins?! You completely left us in the lurch

Marinette felt any guilt about leaving without telling anybody melt away

Marinette glaring: I thought that the people who I thought were my friends only saw me as an employee, and you just proved it

Ayla rolling her eyes: What are you talking about Marinette? You're being over dramatic as usual

Marinette: That is what I'm talking about! Think back to the final couple of months I was in Paris. The only time anybody in the class talked to me was to ask me to do something for them, not even asking if I have time to do it just demanding that I complete what ever they wanted me to do! And you know what leaving was the best decision I ever made!

Marinette didn't wait to hear what Alya had to say she joined Jason and Damian at the entrance and followed them inside never giving thought to the friends she left behind again

3 months later the Ghoul Group broke up.

After Lila was shown to be working with Hawkmoth she was sent to juvenal hall

Lila, Nino, Adrien, and the rest of the class were left wondering how they could lose such a great friend because of a liar who tricked all of them

[nightingaelic]

Curious but, perhaps new Vegas Companions reacting to The courier and their “attempts for the blue star treasure” as the courier call it but no it’s obviously an addition to the sodas in the wasteland.

The courier popped the cap off the bottle, flicked it aside with their finger and drank deeply, finishing the swallow off with a theatrical sigh. "So there I am in Primm, and I've just finished breaking Deputy Beagle out of his bind with the convicts in the Bison Steve Hotel, and he insists on throwing a party at the Vikki & Vance to celebrate. Ruby, gem that she is, hands me a bottle of this stuff and plays it coy about the taste, so I crack it open and there's a blue star underneath the cap. Never seen that before, or at least I don't remember seeing it before, but this guy next to us at the bar gets all excited. Says his name is Malcolm, used to collect the caps with stars, something about a secret, pre-war treasure... sounded like a lure for suckers, but then I come across these two dead travelers outside Nipton that look like they died in a scuffle over the damn things."

They gestured at the full crate of Sunset Sarsaparilla on the counter of the 188 Slop & Shop, which they had just shelled out 100 caps for. "Anyways, now I pick it up whenever I run into it. The Sierra Madre might be a myth, but with stuff like this, you never know. Right?"

Arcade Gannon: Arcade rolled his eyes. "Just what we need. Another reason for someone to track us down and try to kill us."

"Would I ever put you in danger?" the courier asked, rather facetiously.

Arcade pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just promise me we aren't going to get shot over collectibles, and I won't say another word."

"I... cannot promise that."

"Okay." Arcade plucked a bottle of sarsaparilla from the crate and scanned its label. "Carbonated water... well, not anymore... pure cane sugar, of course... yadda yadda yadda... oh, and criminal amounts of safrole. You should not be drinking this."

The courier shrugged. "I've had worse."

Arcade shook the bottle at them. "This will give you cancer."

"Arcade, I've been shot in the head."

"Which explains why you're still drinking it." Arcade tried to grab the open sarsaparilla away from the courier, but they pulled back out of his reach and playfully squared up. "Fine!" he said, throwing his hands up and walking away from the bar.

Craig Boone: Boone watched the courier for a minute, observing the way they were drinking the soda with excessive relish. Finally, he eased a bottle out of the crate and held it up to the sunlight. The courier eyed him suspiciously as he examined it, and they made a small noise of reproach when he twisted its top off.

"No star," he said, holding the cap up so they could see.

As he had expected, the courier barely glanced at the bottlecap and instead focused on the soda itself, which was fizzing slightly. Boone tilted the bottle to and fro, watching with amusement as their eyes followed its path.

When he finally took a sip, the courier groaned and went back to their own bottle.

Lily Bowen: "But dearie, that much soda will rot your teeth!" Lily protested. "Grandma hasn't been able to find you a new toothbrush yet. Why not take the soda home and save it for a special occasion?"

The courier held their bottle of sarsaparilla up in a toast. "Lily, with you, every occasion is special."

"Aww, pumpkin." Lily blushed and squeezed herself onto a stool. "That's very sweet of you. But only two bottles before we move on, okay? We take the rest home."

In response, the courier pulled another bottle out of the crate and slid it over to the super mutant. "Make it three, and you can have this one."

"Dearie, you know I'm watching my figure!"

The courier laughed. "I know, I know. We'll work it off. Go on, all yours."

"Hmmph." Lily picked up the bottle and turned it around, examining the label. "Like nightkin and Stealth Boys, you are."

She twisted the top off, and the two made noises of pleasant surprise at the discovery of a blue star on the bottom of the cap.

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "You've got to be careful with that stuff, boss," Raul opined, sliding onto an empty stool and eyeing the crate suspiciously.

"What, because of the treasure hunters?"

"Ay, no." The ghoul shook his head. "El refresco. Don't know what they put in it, but half the continent used to drink it. That stuff spread faster than Nuka-Cola, and Nuka-Cola knew it. Tried to buy Sunset, then when that didn't work, they tried to make their own version."

The courier perked up at that. "Nuka-Cola made sarsaparilla? I've never seen it."

"Me neither, but I've heard tell it's out there." Raul sighed and leaned over the counter, arms crossed. "Nuka-Buzz, or something? No, no, it'll come to me... Wild. Nuka-Cola Wild."

"Huh." The courier took another swig of the soda, clearly trying to cover up their sudden interest. "Know where I might get some?"

"Nah." Raul looked at them sideways. "But you're not gonna find any star caps on them anyway, right?"

"Oh yeah. Right."

"Híjole, Six. You've got a problem."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Uh, no? No, I know exactly what's up with stuff like this." Cass put her hands on her hips and glared at the courier. "Sam and Michelle just took you for a ride on those things, that's what's up. How many're in there, 24 bottles? Fewer at the rate you're suckin' 'em down, but 100 caps for 24 bottles is downright criminal. Over four caps per head, and you're not even getting a decent return of 24 caps if you're saving the ones with little blue stars on them! But let's be honest here, Six."

The courier threw a hand out in defensive exasperation. "I am being honest, Cass! It's for a-"

"Mmm, uh-uh." Cass shook her head violently and crossed her arms. "You're not that stupid, you have decent enough business sense from what I've seen. What you've got going is the same song and dance I do when the bartender's pouring generous rounds. Just own it, Six."

"Oh come on, that's not the same-"

"I don't wanna hear it." Cass hopped onto a stool and shoved the crate of soda as far away from her as she could get it. "Sam, get back here and bring me a glass of something that'll put me in a more forgiving mood. On their tab."

Veronica Santangelo: "Wrong." Veronica sighed and sat down next to the courier. "You know how far we are from the Strip?"

"Not really?"

"Give or take a few, 26 miles." The Scribe frowned. "Meaning, if you want to drag that crate home with you, we have to carry it 26 miles through the desert, protecting it from cazadores, coyotes, Fiends, and if your story's at all true, rabid treasure hunters. I don't know about you, but I'm not about to risk my life for a box of flat sarsaparilla."

"But it's not flat." The courier handed her their drink to inspect. "Not completely. I don't know where Michelle dug it up, but she found a good batch."

"I don't know," Veronica replied, peering down the bottle's neck. "Can't really tell without getting a better look. What if I..."

She made as if to pour the soda out onto the ground, and the courier squeaked and tried to grab it back. Veronica held it out of their reach and smirked. "So it's not really about the caps, is it? Because if it was, we could just empty these all and save ourselves the trouble of hauling it."

"Veronica, please."

"Fine." Veronica handed the drink back. "But I want three bottles for myself. You can keep the caps."

ED-E: ED-E beeped in general agreement with the courier's story and accepted the new load, lowering itself slightly so they could pack up the bottles. By the time the courier was done, the bottle they had been drinking was empty. With a shrug, the courier pocketed the cap- starless, ED-E noted- and plucked another from the crate, causing the eyebot to bob and adjust.

Rex: The cyberdog sniffed the bottle the courier offered them and sneezed, narrowly missing the contents. They snatched it back with a chuckle and went on drinking. Rex curled up at the base of their stool, yawned, and went to sleep. By the time he woke up again, the crate was down to 20 full bottles, and the courier was giggly from the pre-war sugar.

[blue-fidelity]

~ “Smile in the face of Tragedy”

Chapter 2: New King

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x Henderson!reader, Steve Harrington x best friend! reader

Chapter Summary:

A wild night reveals secrets and broken hearts. At least Billy & (Y/N) have each other.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, drunk!Billy, sad!Steve (that is a warning 🥺)

“(Y/N)! It’s Halloween!”- Halloween? (Y/N) woke up to the sound of her brother yelling excitingly. If she wasn’t mistaken, she could hear the Ghostbusters theme playing loudly from Dustin’s room. She groaned, burying her head in her pillows while running her hands through her hair.

This is not how she planned to wake up this morning.

Before closing her eyes to regain a little more sleep, her alarm clock looked her right in the face. 7:15. Another groan came from her. Perk up (Y/N), it’s your favourite holiday! She pushed herself up, swinging her legs on the side of the bed. (Y/N) definitely knew the high school students weren’t going to be wearing costumes to school. So before Billy picked her up, she’d head home to get changed.

Billy- (Y/N) didn’t think she’d be able to forget yesterday. The way he held her, the way he kissed her forehead. His embrace was so comforting- she nearly melted into him. The smell of dry cigarette smoke and cheap cologne haven’t been able to leave her senses. It was like everything that came with him, it was intoxicating, and she couldn’t get enough of it.

As she stepped out of bed, she moved her hips slightly to the music coming from her brother’s stereo. When she made it to her drawers, she contemplated what she should wear today. Just because she wasn’t going to wear a costume, didn’t mean she couldn’t look spooky, right? She grabbed her “Chistine” t-shirt, it was one of her favorite horror movies. Pairing it with a black acid wash skirt, some fishnets, and her usual chuck taylors, she strutted confidently out her bedroom door.

She walked into the bathroom to find Dustin clad in his Stantz costume, brushing his teeth. He looked so cute! “Hey Doctor Stantz, ‘lookin pretty badass”, she grinned, patting him on the back. “Thanks (Y/N)! I can’t wait to see the guys in their costumes, Halloween’s gonna be so great!”, he cheered, spitting out his tooth paste. He quickly ran out of the room to fetch breakfast, leaving (Y/N) time for her hair & makeup.

Bright red lipstick and heavy black eyeliner, hair slightly curled.

-

When she stepped into the living room, she saw her mom enthusiastically taking polaroids of Dustin. She couldn’t help but smile, hoping her mom would save her some for her picture board. (Y/N) sat on the couch beside her cat Mews, scratching the back of his ears as he purred in contentment. She giggled at the various poses her brother made in front of the camera.

Her mom had finally stopped taking photos, noticing her on the couch. “(Y/N) darling! I didn’t see you come in, can I get a photo of my two children?”, she questioned, looking at her with pleading eyes. (Y/N) couldn’t say no! “Of course!”, she said, standing up from the couch.

She placed an arm around Dustin’s shoulders, teasingly taking him in a headlock, rubbing her nuckles on his hair. To this he laughed, playfully pointing his fake proton blaster at her. It was the perfect picture. Perfectly trapped in the moment of two great siblings, simply having a good time.

(Y/N) gathered her things, making sure to take one of her mom’s homemade muffins for breakfast. She had made them a couple days before, but they still were delicious. Even though (Y/N) desperately needed coffee, she decided against it. She was already running a bit late, and as much as she hated the stale stuff from the cafeteria, it’d have to do. Dustin had already slipped out the door to head off on his bike, he really must’ve been eager to see his friends.

Before making her way to her motorcycle, she slipped her jean jacket on and hugged her mom goodbye. Claudia looked at her intently, ruffling her curled hair. (Y/N) rolled her eyes playfully, “Alright mom, I gotta go! ‘I’m gonna stop here after school though, k?”, she opened the front door. “Okay have a good day sweetie! ‘I’ll see you before your party!”. (Y/N)’s mom knew about the party, whether she knew there was going to be alcohol involved, it was better off not knowing.

Sliding the keys into the ignition, she sped off to the school. She could never get enough of the mysterious backroads of Hawkins. It scared her, obviously. With all the things that happened the previous year, she couldn't help but wonder if things still lurked in the depths of the forest, hiding till they could strike. Waiting and waiting till they can catch someone else and drag them to that horrible place. Her body trembled at the thought of it. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the memories. Eyes turning back to the road, she removed one of her hands from the handles, trying to reach for the button of her stereo. It had turned onto some random radio station that was playing Halloween tunes.

“Happy Halloween ‘Morning Ghouls and Goblins of Hawkins! Here’s a spooky throwback from ‘1982 for y’all on this fine dreary morning, ‘Blood Bitch’, by Cocteau Twins!” - the radio host introduced, was he really supposed to swear on radio? Well, no one really had a filter these days.

The song added to the eerie atmosphere of the cold morning, making her uneasy. She pushed through her thoughts, trying to just focus on getting to school. It was Halloween! No need for being pent up on past trauma. The station had eventually turned to a happier song, putting her in a better mood. What better to put a smile on your face then the ‘Time Warp” from The Rocky Horror Picture Show? She bobbed her head happily to the familiar tune, singing along to the lyrics.

-

School today had been an absolute drag! Last period (math) was nearly done and (Y/N) was desperate to get out. She could see some of her mutuals were anxious as well, probably too excited to wait for the party tonight. She was excited as well, maybe a little bit of the fact that she’d be spending more time with Billy?

(Y/N) would hate for him to think she’d be using him as a rebound. Even though it seemed that way, she really should’ve forgotten about her feelings for Steve awhile ago. (Y/N) really loved Steve, but he’d always been so oblivious, but- that was just Steve. He would’ve never known of her feelings if she didn’t tell him. Which she never did, in fear of obvious rejection. Then here was Billy Hargrove, whether it be his flirtatious nature, she could see herself really falling for him. The one thing she knew she wouldn’t do was dive in too quickly. She wouldn’t make the same mistakes, for her and for Billy’s sake.

She was finally released from the rechedouness that was her math class-running straight out the door right as the bell rang, nearly having winded Mr. Henry. After taking a quick stop at her locker, she walked outside to find her motorcycle. (Y/N) was nearly there till a skateboard hit her feet, stopping her in her tracks.

“I’m so sorry! It slipped right out from under me-” a voice of a young girl called, her breath shaky. (Y/N) looked down at the girl shuffling to grab her skateboard, she had never seen her before. The mysterious teen with the red hair looked around her brother’s age, so why was she so unrecognizable? Wait- could it be?

Billy’s step sister.

“Hey, hey it’s all good!”, (Y/N) gave her a reassuring smile. “Hey- not to sound weird or anything-”, she chuckled nervously, “But, are you new here? ‘You see I got a younger brother ‘about your age, and you got an unfamiliar face”. The girl stared at her skeptically, but still replied. “Yeah, just moved here from ‘California, what are you ‘looking to set him up or something?” she questioned sarcastically. ‘Damn she was quite the firecracker. “Nah frankly I think you're a little out of his league”, (Y/N) winked. To this she got a laugh out of her. “Well, it was nice weirdly meeting you, ‘I’m Max!”, she introduced herself. “Well Max, ‘I’m (Y/N), if you're interested in someone helping you out with that kickflip, ‘I used to do some skateboarding myself”, she offered. Max beamed at her offer, “Really? That’d be so great!”, “Alrighty then, if you see me around, don’t be shy to ask!”.

Little did (Y/N) and Max know, Billy was watching them. Billy knew (Y/N) was genuinely kind, but not that kind. It wasn’t necessarily cool to be seen with a middle schooler. He figured he wouldn’t look too much into it, but something about seeing (Y/N) with her, didn’t sit well with him. Billy gave Max a dirty look as she skated up to the camaro. “You're late again”, Billy started. “I had to get catchup homework”, Max stated. “Jesus! I don’t care- who was that girl you were talking to?”, Billy asked, even though he already knew who she was. “Just some high schooler- she offered to help me learn some skateboarding tricks' '. So she skateboarded too, huh? “That’s rich. Just, get in the car, will yah?”.

-

(Y/N) entered the door with a ‘skip in her step. She really needed a reason to lose herself, forget about the world around her. Tonight was going to be perfect for that. Expecting to be greeted by her mom, she noticed no one was there. She knew Dustin was heading to Mike’s right after school, ‘but her mom was nowhere to be seen. She probably had to work later hours again. ‘This meant she had the place to herself! (Y/N) still had a few hours before Billy picked her up. So she figured she’d get into her costume, and then fix herself something to eat.

The Sarah Connor costume was simple. Gray tank top, black jeans, sunglasses, a chunky belt and combat boots. (Y/N) already had all of this in her regular wardrobe, so it’d be a pretty easy costume. Of course she didn’t have a rifle to complete it, even though she could’ve asked Nance. She wasn’t about to show up to a house party with a gun. It would have been pretty cool though.

She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, clad in costume. Now it was time to remove her makeup and untame her curled hair. “Mr. Crowley” by Ozzy Osbourne was currently spinning on her “Blizzard of Ozz” vinyl. She mouthed her lips to the lyrics as she straightened her hair, her (Y/H/C) locks falling in straight whisps on her head. Replacing her once extravagant makeup with a more nude look, she looked at herself pleased.

A total badass look, you might say.

It was only 4:30, and Billy was coming over at 6 o’clock. She had way too much time to kill. Making her way to the kitchen, she scoped the fridge. Enough ground beef for two burgers, and she knew they had leftover buns. Maybe Billy would be hungry when he got there, and if she was making dinner for two- she didn’t want to start too early. So she’d head back to it in about a half an hour. Meanwhile a coca-cola would hold her down, she was pretty firsty.

(Y/N) now laid in her bed, bored. ‘Blizzard of Ozz was still playing, it just switched onto “Steal Away (The Night)”, her ears perked up to the upbeat tune. She couldn’t help but dance around, hopping happily on her bed as she belted the lyrics along with Ozzy. Pointing at the poster of him that was plastered on her wall, she shouted the chorus. It’d be pretty funny if Billy were to walk in on her singing her heart out, what would he think of that? She rolled her eyes at the thought, he’d probably think she was crazy. The song ended, turning to the next one. (Y/N) took this as her cue to start on dinner.

Flipping the patties in the pan, she sighed at the smell. She did cook a pretty ‘mean burger. Dustin loved when she made them, he always said the added rosemary was the perfect touch. (Y/N) grew up with her mother teaching her how to cook. Claudia Henderson had worked in a number of restaurants, usually in the kitchen or as a waitress. She now helped run a popular Inn a little outside of town, and it was her favourite place she’s ever worked in. (Y/N) probably figured it was a busy night, considering she didn’t come home at her usual hour.

5:45 and the burgers were ready and plated, the aroma running through the room. Billy was ‘going to be here soon, and she was giddy with excitement. Before she knew it, the bell rang. Fuck he was early. “Coming!” she called, slowly making her way to the door. ‘There he stood; a cocky grin on his face with his arm propped up on the door ledge. She took time to take in his minimal outfit, tight jeans & a leather jacket, no shirt. His abbs were on full display- (Y/N)’s mouth watered just at the sight of him. “See something you like, sweetheart?” he smirked. “Maybe-”, (Y/N) stammered. “It’s aight, I see something I like to,'' he whispered the last part into her ear, letting himself in.

“She cooks too? ‘I guess looks can be deceiving”, he motioned to the burgers. (Y/N) blushed, “I figured we could eat before we fill ourselves with alcohol”. They delved into the burgers, she couldn’t help but laugh when Billy moaned at the taste. “Darlin- I haven’t had a burger like this in awhile, ‘the ones down at Benny’s don’t hold anything on these”, he praised. “That must be a high compliment, because ‘Benny’s are pretty good”, she smiled at him. (Y/N) put the dishes into the dishwasher, quickly running to her room to grab her polaroid camera. “Where are you ‘heading princess?”, she’d never get tired of his little pet names. “I’m just grabbing my camera- I want to get some good shots tonight!”.

(Y/N) came back with her camera bag, a big grin on her face. “You ready to head out?”, he questioned. “Yeah, just let me get my jacket”, she took her jacket from the hook. “Ready”. He guided her to the camaro, opening the passenger door. Billy never opened the passenger door for girls! ‘(Y/N) really did something to him, huh? “Such the gentlemen”, she smirked. “Anything for you dollface”. He slid into the drivers side, placing his keys into the ignition. “Music?” she questioned, “Sure thing, feel free to look through the cassettes in the glove box”. She searched through the assortment of tapes, varying from Metallica, Def Leppard, RATT, Mötley Crüe, Hanoi Rocks, AC/DC and more. She settled on Hanoi Rocks’s, “Two Steps From The Move” album. It had just come out that summer, and it was one of her favourites. Not to mention she had a HUGE crush on Michael Monroe.

“Hanoi Rocks huh? I like your style”, he nodded in approval, till turning his eyes back on the road. “Got any specific fave tracks?”, (Y/N) questioned. “Track 8”. She was surprised he chose this one, considering it was one of the more “cheesy” songs. ‘It did have a pretty ‘rockin guitar riff in it though, she’ll give him that. Billy contentedly thumped his hands on the steering wheel, speeding up a bit. Rolling both of their windows down, (Y/N) was surprised to see him singing along to the lyrics. It was a bad attempt at a Finnish accent, sure, but it was still really cute. (Y/N) joined him, jumping in at the chorus. They banged their heads to the tune, continuously singing the lines. (Y/N) really felt alive in that moment. ‘She couldn’t remember the last time she had this much fun, and they haven’t even gotten to the party yet.

-

They pulled up to Tina’s, teens were already rallying in. ‘It was going to be a wild night. Before Billy could open up his trunk to get the kegs, (Y/N) stopped him. She pulled out her camera, “Hargrove! Smile!”, she grinned, pointing the camera at him. ‘He rolled his eyes, posing for the picture. The photo was of Billy playfully doing the devil’s horns symbol, with his tongue stuck out. She giggled, “This is one for the board!”. “Well Hey Sarrah Conner- let me take a pic of you!”, he said, trying to grab the camera from her. She handed the camera to him, smiling that he remembered her costume name. Letting her sunglasses shade her eyes, ‘she smirked brightly at the camera, ‘Billy quickly snapping the shot. He handed the polaroid to her, she shaked it and placed it in her bag with the one she took.

Billy held one of the kegs while (Y/N) grabbed the other, walking into the crowded house. It was overwhelmingly loud. They could feel the heat coming off the numerous teenagers that littered the home, their bodies moving to the heavy beats of the stereo. Tina was in the kitchen, and had noticed the pair walk in. “Billy & (Y/N) are here with more kegs!”, she shouted, ‘causing the crowd to go wild. Someone had taken the one from her hands and motioned Billy to follow them into the backyard, leaving her alone. She grazed over the sea of teens, trying to spot anyone she knew. She noticed Steve and Nancy dancing freely in the living room, Nancy nursing a drink while Steve had a big smile on his face. She figured she’d grab some punch and then see what Billy was doing in the backyard, most likely a keg stand. He was the new ‘king after all, Tommy was probably expecting him to beat Steve’s record.

‘As luck would have it, she was right. She stood on the back porch with a cup of “pure fuel” in her hands, watching the teens crowd around him as he bent over the keg. They shouted various numbers, counting the seconds as he chugged down the beer. (Y/N) cheered with them, looking at him with bright eyes. His torso was glistening, beads of sweat running down his toned chest. Her cheeks flushed red just at the sight of him. The enthusiasm got louder as he finished the stand, spitting spews of beer out of his mouth. “That’s how you do it Hawkins! That’s how you do it!”, more cheers. Tommy passed him a cigarette and escorted him into the house, the gang shouting his name as Mötley Crüe’s, “Shout At The Devil” played on the speakers. Billy spotted her on the porch, grinning wildly at her. He shoved her into his side with his arm, hugging her tight. Tommy glared at the interaction. Never in her time with being friends with Steve has ‘Tommy liked her that much, and it seems things haven’t changed.

Typical Tommy.

(Y/N) was enjoying the feel of Billy's embrace a little too much. She knew he was already partially drunk, and she was feeling a nice buzz that she wasn’t planning on getting rid of anytime soon. Someone had to drive them home. ‘Tommy paraded them up to Nancy and Steve, (Y/N) wasn’t sure if it was to torchure her or show off Billy, probably both. ‘Billy and Steve stared each other down as if they were going to kill each other, it was really intense. Too intense for her liking. Still hooded under Billy’s arm, she shot Steve a sympathetic look. ‘As if to say ‘I’m sorry’ with her eyes. “We got ourselves a new keg king Harrington!”, Tommy declared. “Yeah eat it Harrington!”, another guy shouted. Somehow in ‘Billy and Steve’s stare down, Nancy had slipped away.

“You see Harrington- not only that, but I stole your girl away too”, Billy retorted. Oh shit- this wasn’t good. Steve glanced over at her, a nervous look in his eyes. “I don’t know what you're talking about man-”. How did Billy know about (Y/N)’s past feelings for Steve? “Well you see, this lovely lady under my arms thought the world of you, and frankly I- I just don’t see why! Point being, she has me now, you can go fetch that slut you settled for.” This interaction was making neither Steve nor (Y/N) happy, it left them feeling both angry and confused. Steve scoffed, chasing after Nancy. He was going to want to talk to (Y/N) about this later.

Steve really didn’t know what to make of what Billy had said to him. Mainly, it sounded like a warning; but he didn’t think Billy intended for it to be that. (Y/N) and him had been best friends forever, and even if he didn’t necessarily like Billy, there was no harm in her being friends with him, right? Though, something about what Billy said hinted that he meant more than just friends. Had (Y/N) liked him, loved him even? Was Steve really oblivious all these years- no, it couldn’t be. If he was being honest, he harboured a small crush on her in the beginning of middle school, but then Nancy came into his life. Nancy Wheeler hit him like a freight train right in the heart, and he then became a lovesick puppy. He couldn’t get enough of her. That’s when Steve began to realize, the jealous glances over the years, the slight distaste of Nancy that came off her.

But, why did it matter if (Y/N) loved him? He still had Nancy, or so he thought.

-

Tommy had left, leaving Billy and (Y/N) in the corner of the living room, an uncomfortable silence stirring between them. “Billy-how did you-“, she wondered in a whisper, but Billy cut her off. “You really don’t think Tommy would’ve told me? Besides, everybody knows”. She didn’t need to hear the last part. Besides, why did it matter if everyone knew- it didn’t matter to her anymore. “Does that bother you?”, she asked worriedly. Billy chuckled darkly.

“Darlin- you got nothing to worry about, I’m your new king now”.

Next thing she knew, they were on the dance floor. Billy had pulled her into the crowd of sweaty bodies, grinding on each other. Some people were making out, others chugging alcohol till they fell limp to the floor. She stared nervously at the rowdy teens, her body shaking. He noticed her agitation, placing a hand on her cheek, turning her to face him. He smelt of cheap beer and stale cigarette smoke, and a hint of cologne. She was caught with that intoxicating sensation again, making her hazy. His icy blue eyes peered into her (Y/E/C) ones, “Just feel the music princess- everything will be just fine”.

‘Their bodies moved comfortably against each other to ‘Billy Idol’s, “Flesh For Fantasy”. A perfect song choice in the moment. ‘(Y/N) was very much sober and very much aware of what was happening. Aware of Billy’s strong grip on her waist, aware of his hips moving against hers. Normally this would’ve been cutting close corners for her, but she was looking for an opportunity to lose herself. What better way than this? She ran her fingers through his thick blonde curls, her hips swaying a bit more. He sighed in contentment, making her shiver. His face was currently buried into her neck, placing soft kisses on her collarbone.

They continued their heavy sway for a while, Billy had started to form a hickey below her ear. She was definitely not going to be able to cover it up tomorrow, but she really didn’t care if people saw it- she wanted people to know that she wasn’t desperate. That she didn’t need Steve anymore. She wasn’t exactly sure what she meant to ‘Hargrove, but she knew that she wasn’t planning on leaving him anytime soon. (Y/N) felt him remove his lips from her neck, his hot breath waving over her. “Mhmm- left a pretty big mark sweetheart-“ he mumbled. She hummed in return, removing her hands from his hair.

The rest of the night consisted of more dancing, and Billy getting more intoxicated than he was before. Really drunk Billy- let’s just say it was quite the sight to see. He was a giggling mess, slurring his words and stumbling on his feet. “(Y/N)- has anyone ever told you-“ he hiccuped, “That you were gorgeous?”, another hiccup. She giggled at his comment, “Tons of people- but I bet no one sees me like you do huh?”, she supported him up against the kitchen counter. “Absolutely no one!” He cheered in a high pitch voice, damn he really was a mess. She tried to wrap his arm around her shoulders snatching his keys.”Hey- what are you doing?”, he gestured to the keys, “Getting you home-“, “Wait! Can we go to your house please?? I can’t wake up my dad letting him see me like this- he’ll kill me”, he pleaded. “Fine- just, try to be as quiet as possible, I got a sleeping family too”.

(Y/N) took him out of the house, nearly carrying him. She waved goodbye to a few mutual friends who were still conscious, muttering a soft “See y’all tomorrow, hope we aren’t all hungover”. This earned a few laughs from her classmates, bidding her and Billy a goodnight. Unlocking the passenger side to the camaro, she set Billy down lightly on the seat. “Being so ginger with me sweetheart- I’m not made of glass ‘you know”, he joked. “Whatever tough guy- let’s just get you to a bed, mhm?”. Placing her hands on the steering wheel, she realized she hasn’t driven a car since the summer, and a camaro is definitely nothing close to a station wagon. She took a deep breath- she could do this, no sweat. Besides, there was no way she could bring herself to ruin a car as beautiful as this one.

Billy must’ve passed out while they were driving, because when she pulled into her driveway, his eyes were sewn shut. She had to admit- he did look pretty adorable when he was sleeping. She tried to resist the urge to take a photo of him, but she couldn’t help herself. Pulling out her camera bag that was littered with pictures from tonight, she snapped a quick photo of him. The flash startled him, waking him up. “Sweetheart- were you taking photos of me in my sleep? That’s just creepy”, his voice was groggy. “How could I not when you were laying there looking like an angel?”, “Pfft- ‘darlin, I am a demon, Satan himself! ‘Ain’t no way I’m an angel!”, he scoffed.

“Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but Lucifer was once an angel”.

Fumbling with the keys to her front door while trying to help Billy regain his footing was hard. He was just about to lose consciousness again when she finally got the door open, it shouldn't have been as much of a challenge as it was- but Billy had a lot of weight to him. She didn’t notice the lights were still on till she saw her mom sitting in her reading chair, Mews on her lap and clad in a cat costume. Shit- what was she gonna say about this? “Oh! Mrs. Henderson- I see where (Y/N) gets all her good looks from!”, Billy squealed, “Ugh can it Billy! Mom I can explain-“ she shushed Billy, staring wide eyed at her mother. “Sweetie- you clearly had a wild night, just take this pound of muscle to your room, and we can talk about it while he crashes, okay?”- (Y/N) nodded quickly, dragging Billy to her room.

Billy flopped down on the bed, giggling wildly. “Honey! We’ve known each other for two days, don’t you think we ‘oughta know one another better before I sleep in your bed?”, (Y/N) rolled her eyes at the blubbering idiot. “This was your idea dumby! Just get under the covers and keep it shut, will you?”, she glared at him, closing the door and heading back to the living room.

“So no Steve, huh? He’s the one who usually spends the night”, her mom said softly. “Different reasons mom- I’m just trying to figure out who’s a bigger piece of work”, she huffed. “Well he’s quite the looker, ‘makes me wonder how you keep up with him”, Claudia smirked. “Mom! He’s new here- he just happened to notice me first”, (Y/N) blushed, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Besides- what are you doing up so late?”, (Y/N) stared at the clock, “It’s nearly 1 o’clock”. “Busy night down at the Inn, just needed a little time to myself after Dusty went to bed”, she sighed, but (Y/N) knew she wasn’t finished. “Also wanted to see what mess you brung home, it’s always a new thing with you”, her mom laughed. “Billy’s- interesting, but I’m not sure, doesn’t seem like the most faithful type”, she sighed. “He may surprise you, and besides- if he hurts you he’ll have to suffer the wrath of your brother!”, Claudia giggled, smiling at her daughter. “Anyways- I’m gonna head to bed, early day at work tomorrow, you gonna go join the guy?”, she pointed down the hall. “Yeah yeah I’ll join the idiot in a second- just gonna get some water”, (Y/N) said tiredly.

Snuggling up on the couch, she sipped her water. The quietness was calming, the fact that everyone was at rest and she was the only one around southend her in a way. The fact that Billy was sleeping soundly in her bed, gave her a different feeling. Things with him- had gone by so quickly, and it was only just beginning. It was nice being with someone where the relationship had lasted longer than more than a few hours. Her past flames- had simply been one night stands, meaningless things to shy her away from Steve, but Billy was different. She actually liked him, and even though he came off as a jerk- he seemed really sweet on the inside. Though, she couldn’t help but wonder how Steve was feeling right now, the bomb had been dropped on him nearly two hours ago- it must be overwhelming to know your best friend was holding back feelings for so many years.

(Y/N) was just about to head to bed, till she heard a knock on the door. Who was here at this time of night? She opened the door slightly, and who she saw she didn’t expect. There Steve stood, his face red and puffy with tears in his eyes. His body was shaking, his shoulders were slumped over. He looked awful. “She- doesn’t love me- it’s bullshit! It was all bullshit!” He stuttered as his body continued to quiver. (Y/N)’s heart ached at his words, what had Nancy done this time? She didn’t know what to say, it’s not like she could’ve let him in. So, she just pulled him into a hug, “Steve-you can’t keep coming here like this- it’s not my job to fix you”, she tried to explain. “I know! I just don’t have anywhere else to go”, he cried. “I can’t tonight- it just isn’t the right time.” (Y/N) was attempting to tell him in the best way possible that Billy wasn’t there, but Steve caught on. “He’s here, isn’t he, Billy?”, Steve muttered angrily. “Out of all the guys in Hawkins- you chose him to get over me, that’s just flattering!” . Steve was making her feel sick, “Steve- I know you're hurting but you can’t take it out on me like that- it isn’t fair”, she pushed away from him. “I’ll talk about this with you tomorrow- when you're in the right state of mind, okay? Just please leave”, she pleaded. “Fine- I’ll see you tomorrow”, he breathed out harshly, walking back to his car.

She was on the edge of a breakdown, heart racing and choked up tears running down her face. This is not how she expected her evening to end- seeing Steve like that, broken and beaten again. (Y/N) thought she’d never live to see Steve crumble in her arms one more time- and with that she could’ve rested easy. At least she wouldn’t have to be alone tonight, she had someone waiting for her. Trying to stay quiet, she tiptoed down the hall. Opening the door, she walked in to see Billy sleeping soundly, the pink hue of her bedside lamp illuminating his features. She took notice of his leather jacket, jeans and boots scattered on the ground. That meant he was only in his boxers. Before joining him she slipped into an oversized AC/DC t-shirt and looked in the mirror, her hands grazing over the purple mark that had formed on her neck- the little bastard.

When (Y/N) laid in bed, even in his sleepy state Billy could notice the slight dip in the mattress. He groaned, “What took you so long…?”. (Y/N) chuckled softly at his tiredness. “Just an unexpected visitor, nothing to worry about”, she smiled reassuringly. “Well as long as you're okay, that’s all that matters”, he kissed her temple, pulling her into his chest. She snuggled into his side, sighing contentedly. She needed this. “Thank you”, she mumbled mindlessly. “For what sweetheart?”.

“For helping me start fresh”.

The couple held each other comfortably, sleep taking over them. (Y/N) rested her head on Billy’s torso, as he lazily made circles on the small of her back. Everything was blissful in that moment. Perfect. She’d deal with Steve tomorrow, for now, she had Billy Hargrove. Billy Hargrove with his strong hold and warm comforting body, Billy Hargrove who made her feel safe.

Author’s note:

Hope you all love the second chapter! Feedback is always appreciated & as always if you want to be added to the taglist comment down below ❤️!

Tag-list: @theblueslytherin @oopsiedoopsie23 @lulu-yuming @merc12-us @soullesstaco @unded-bride @holychocopie @nikkixostan @ellesimagines

[scabopolis]

Ummm because my brain could never come up with something as genius as yours, I will ask—nay, BEG—for more LoVe Vampire AU from Day 1 AU week.

Title: do not engage (part two of this little ficlet) Rating: PG-13 (some swears…because girl is still stressed) Pairing: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars, Additional Tags: Secret identity, vaguely vampire hunter related things, filed under: relationship obstacles, sharing of bagels, vampire Logan is probably far too schmoopy, tried to write angst but whooops I think it's fluff? Word Count: 1,800

For you, dear, @ayy-ohh? Anything. This one really got me stuck because...like...world building? What is that? And would vampires eat bagels? And why DOES Logan have a cell in his basement? So many questions. Anyway! Here it is! *** That she can’t remember ever seeing Logan Echolls in the daylight should have been Veronica’s first clue.

It’s just, given the nocturnal demands of her profession and thus her morning grumpiness, it was easy to miss. Easy to be grateful for. Easy to be relieved that Logan wasn’t like her college boyfriend—the kind of guy who insisted they wake up at 6:00 AM to go running and felt a day spent inside with the shades drawn was a day wasted.

There were, of course, other clues she missed.

Weirdly cryptic statements and obfuscations. (Given she was also prone to said crypticism, she didn’t press for fear he’d do the same.) His reticence towards beach days. (It seemed logical! Who doesn’t hate dodging tourists?) The weird way he’d linger at doorways of unfamiliar houses. (Again, given her own antipathy to socializing, his hesitation was something she understood.)

In retrospect, given that not pressing Logan on his vague answers landed her here—in a weird cell gnawing at the ropes her ex-boyfriend tied tightly around her wrists—she supposes she should have tried harder. She hears Logan’s footsteps on the stairs into the basement but doesn’t stop her attempt to undo the knots.

“I hope you have a good dental plan,” Logan says. She rolls her eyes and continues to work at the strands with her teeth. “Is there even a vampire hunter’s union? Might be something worth looking into. Though, given the general mistrust the position requires, electing a president might prove tricky.”

“God, staking you would have at least gotten you to shut up.”

“But then there’s the crushing guilt.”

“I would have managed.”

Do not engage. In the 36-ish hours she’s been in this cell, that’s been her motto. The secret to coping with the fact that your boyfriend is a vampire and that you and your dad are vampire hunters is to remain detached and cold.

Except it hasn’t been easy. Because her wrists hurt, she smells bad, and oh yeah, apparently she’s not as out of love with the bloodthirsty monster wearing the hell out of a henley and holding a bag of takeout as she thought.

“I got bagels,” he says.

As soon as he says it, the scent of cinnamon raisin wafts from the bag. He doesn’t wait for her to stand; simply slips the paper bag containing her bagel through the bars and slides it to her. Much like he’s done for their previous shared meals, he sits on the ground a safe distance from her and settles into eating his own.

She tears the paper bag and sees that not only has Logan brought her a bagel, he’s also brought her some sort of sandwich and a chocolate chip cookie. God. What an asshole.

What is his endgame here? If he wanted to kill her, he would have done it by now. It’s only a matter of time until her dad begins to question whatever story Logan texted him from her phone. Her dad will show up and he will have questions. What will Logan say then?

“What will I say to who?” Logan asks.

Shit. Detachment is also easier when inside thoughts remain inside thoughts. “No one.”

“If you’re talking about your dad, he’s out of town for the rest of the week.”

She concentrates on the pattern of the cinnamon swirl laced throughout her breakfast. “What do you mean?”

“According to the text he sent you last night, he had to go to Vegas. Vampire gambling ring of some sort?”

“You’re lying.”

“Takes a liar to know a liar.”

Veronica rolls her eyes and takes a large bite of her bagel, surveying the interior of her holding cell. And yes, fine, she technically has a policy of not engaging with the pointy fanged one, but she has questions.

“What is the point of having a cell in your basement? Is it for weird sex stuff? Or weird vampire stuff?”

“Who says those two things are mutually exclusive?”

She rolls her eyes. “Spare me, please. I’m eating.”

“I’ll tell you but you won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“My friend, Mac?” He extends his legs out in front of him. “Once a month, this is her guest suite.”

Veronica frowns. “For weird sex stuff?”

He raises an eyebrow in amusement which, fair, she should probably stop using the phrase weird sex stuff.

Wait. Is he saying—?

“Logan,” she says carefully, “is Mac a werewolf?” He nods, and Veronica’s bagel drops to the floor. “Could you be more of a vampiric cliche? Honestly! Does a zombie do your taxes? Does a ghoul trim your hedges?”

“I trim my own hedges, thank you very much.”

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, or it might be the remaining vestiges of adrenaline leaving her body, but Veronica laughs. Just a little bit. At best it’s a chuckle. Still, it’s enough to make Logan smile in that way he sometimes does—like he can’t believe his luck that he even gets to be in the same room as Veronica. It makes something feel heavy and uncomfortable in the pit of her stomach. Do not engage.

“You really didn’t know?” she asks.

Logan’s answer with a slow nod. “I didn’t know.”

“Then how—?”

“It wasn’t an ambush, Veronica.” He pinches off a small piece of his bagel. (Sourdough, she guesses. Probably with jalapeno cream cheese because the man added jalapenos to everything.) She watches as Logan rolls the bread between his fingers. “The date was real but one of Dick’s friends recognized you somehow.”

“You were the one who threw me into a tree.”

“Yeah, and as far as they know, you’re dead. As far as they know, I was so enraged a vampire hunter tricked me that I took you home to finish you off.”

“Which means if you let me go—”

“They’ll know I lied.” He shrugs. “Either they kill me or your dad does. This way you’re safe.”

“Logan—”

“Sorry,” he says. “You called dibs on the killing?”

“Poor little vamp with a death wish.” She doesn’t mean for it to sound so fond. What is wrong with her?

The corner of his mouth twitches with a fleeting smile. There’s a ticking clock on their time together and now they both know it.

“I’ve never seen a vampire eat as much food as you,” she says.

He sets his bagel aside. “Dine with a lot of vampires?”

“Enough to know you eating that bagel is like me eating a bag of sour gummies.”

“Meaning?”

“You might like the taste of a lightly toasted sesame bagel, but an hour later you need to puncture the carotid artery of a single mother to really satisfy yourself.”

“You know sesame seeds get caught in my teeth. And single mothers come with too much guilt.”

“Hedge fund managers?”

“Now you’re talking.”

Veronica has questions, of course she does. More questions than she can properly express—wonders how old he is, who turned him, who gets him blood and how, why he’s friends with Dick Casablancas, if Logan is safe with Dick as a friend—but she doesn’t ask any of those. Because he asks the most important question first.

“What are we going to do, Veronica?”

She stands up, brushes cinnamon raisin crumbs off of her pants. (She catches a whiff of her unshowered self and cringes. So much for their farewell existing as a perfectly preserved memory in the mind of her undead ex-boyfriend.) “There’s no we, Logan. There can’t be.”

He can’t let her go, he can’t keep her locked up, and she can’t stay.

Logan pushes himself up off the ground and comes to meet her at the bars to the cell. “Yeah.”

“First, you’re going to let me out of here.” She wraps her hands around the bars. Logan does just like she’d hoped and does the same, his pinkies barely grazing her knuckles. “And then I never want to see you ever again.”

“That’s what you want?”

God. What a fucking idiot. Of course that isn’t what she wants. What she wants is to go back two days. To return to that night when Logan made pancakes for dinner, and they got drunk on rum and cokes, and then he kissed down her spine as they lay in bed.

She nods anyway. Presses her head against the bars.

“Fine.” Veronica squeezes her eyes shut. “If you ever need anything?” She nods again and she feels the gentle touch of Logan’s lips to her forehead. How is he always so warm? It never made sense.

“I won’t.”

And then, much to her surprise, he walks away. Without letting her out.

She opens her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” he says, a portrait of portrait insouciance once more. “You didn’t expect me to let you go now did you? What if this show of emotion is a long con? I could wake up to find you standing over my body poised to pull back my black out shades.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Nighty night, Veronica.”

Logan doesn’t return to the basement and eventually she falls into a fitful sleep, waking up sometime before the sun rises. She definitely needs to pee and she’s so sick of the ‘toilet’ in her cell. Logan should still be awake. Maybe if she yells really—

Finishing that thought proves to be unnecessary because as soon as Veronica’s eyes adjust to the dim light, she notices the door to her cell is ajar. She’s barely thinking as she jumps from the bed and races up the stairs.

“Logan!” she calls out.

Her first stop is the kitchen, where she maneuvers a knife in between the strands of the ropes around her wrists and works to free herself. Her cell phone is waiting for her on the wireless charger Logan keeps in the kitchen. No messages from her dad, but she sends one to check in. She rubs at the tender skin on her wrists as she searches each room of Logan’s house.

As far as she can tell, there isn’t much missing. Some of his toiletries are gone (her toothbrush is still beside the sink) and she thinks maybe some of his clothes too. His motorcycle is still in the garage but the BMW is gone.

So. That’s it? He’s just gone? What about his house? There’s a housing crisis in southern California and this asshole thinks it’s acceptable to simply abandon a perfectly good home? He didn’t even leave a note.

It’s really the irresponsibility that—

Her call rings through to his voicemail. Rolls her eyes at the Dylan Thomas quote that greets her. That’s new.

“If you think I’m watering your plants for you while you’re gone, you are completely delusional.”

He responds while she’s in the shower. (What? She’s really supposed to put up with shitty water pressure at her place when he has a rain shower and heated bathroom tiles?)

Miss me already?

She responds with a garlic emoji.

[badass-at-fandoming]

Just Little Ventrue Things ~

I finished a Camarilla Ventrue run of VTMB. Mostly, the only thing Ventrue these days know how to do is Dominate, run screaming, eat hot chip, and lie, and [high falsetto voice] here’s a list of other nonsense I discovered:

PC’s name is Christina; she’s a Dominatrix because I’m bi. Her sire was one of her clients, and she’s actually very, very angry about his death. She doesn’t mind being a vampire. She’s Wiccan and part of a coven

In this Camarilla run, I decided I would only do quests given by Camarilla members. My justification was that, while Christina is intelligent and curious about lore, she focuses on tasks that immediately relate to her and her goals. She’s not curious about others; won’t go out of her way to talk to them. She’s not a bleeding heart, like my other PCs, and she believes in the Camarilla’s laws. She just hates LaCroix for killing her sire. Her plan during the game is to curry as much favor within the Cam as possible and cozy up to LaCroix so she can stab him.

Enough backstory

Nonsense time

Smiling Jack laughs at you if you don’t eat a rat in the tutorial. LOL. The Ventrue dialog is like “I could barely choke down the homeless man: please don’t make me eat a rat!”

The blood in the Santa Monica haven’s fridge is now blue blood. Does regular blood make Ventrue sick? I was too scared to experiment.

[spots Mercurio] I am going to steal that ghoul

Rosa: The people you’re looking for are up there. Christina, assuming Rosa is a Cam agent: Okay, thanks, bye

Never spoke to the Thin-Bloods again (sorry Lily baby ;-;)

Everyone except Julius still leaves when the PC reaches Hollywood

If you try to feed on Julius, he WILL kick you in the head and you WILL glitch into the fire, be on fire; run away screaming in Prada

You can skip the whole basement of the Ocean House Hotel if you manage to jump over the hole in the staircase???? Like?? You mean the spookiest fucking level has been optional this whole time I”M

[ghost appears] [Christina smacks it with an axe] None of that.

Club girls speak to Christina and I’m on the FLOOR

Therese “kills” Jeanette, even though I had enough oompa to make that not happen.

Therese joins the Camarilla and says she’s in good position to be the next Prince??? Hello??? Where is our Prince Voerman ending????

Went straight to LaCroix, called him “sir,” and he name-dropped Napoleon.

LaCroix tells Christina to go visit the Anarchs. She blows the Anarchs off (Nines made a growly face, Damsel dialog yowl-exited out after I asked if she wanted to join the Cam; Skelter threatened to murder me twice). When LaCroix told Christina that, while he admired her Cam loyalty, she must listen to her enemies to understand what they wanted, it felt like he was actually being a good sire and mentor.

That’s weird.

When Christina asked for his history, he very carefully explained his lineage, like the important part of Ventrue culture it is.

Overall, I found LaCroix-being-nice-to-me extremely unsettling.

Sir. Stop smiling at me, sir. Stop being impressed I don’t ask for money. STOP MAKING ME UNDERSTAND WHY PEOPLE LIKE YOU, SIR.

In contrast, LaCroix sounded genuinely betrayed at the end

Also made it more obvious when he started to lose track of his marbles

Ventrue PC seems juuuuuuust tall enough for her forehead to glitch into the ceiling of literally any confined space

The dirty Elizabeth Dane policeman didn’t psspspspsp at Christina so the whole ship was 15 white-knuckled minutes of making police dance and scuttling about

There is!!! A lot less!!! Talking in this game!!! Than I remember!!! She is only good at talking and ordering people around i am bEGGING

All EXP goes to Dominate and making Christina extremely charismatic and buff.

Ventrue himbo????

Beckett un-himbo-ifies her

She insults Beckett on their first meeting, spitting out “What do you want, wolfie?!” I thought this was appropriate because she died like, 4 times on that warehouse mission and was Extremely Stressed And Under Duress

Beckett’s response of “Oh, you’re too young to have mouthed off to the truly old ones yet.” makes his later snide remark of “the young ones are so temperamental” 900% funnier. Yeah, LaCroix! Beckett thinks I’ve grown and am now more mature than you! XD

Missions involving sex workers hit different when you’re a sex worker.

Christina was incandescent with rage at the Brotherhood

Grout’s mansion mission was a lot of “I have no interest in this nonsense.”

For the first time ever, I didn’t kill anyone during the Museum quest! This is because Christina ran very fast and Dominated every guard as quickly as possible. Every single fucking guard knew she was there, but could do nothing about it, because they were dancing. The door to the sarcophagus locked (it will do this if too many guards are agro), but locked doors are no match for noclip hack.

Entertaining image of a tall woman absolutely blasting into this museum room and Beckett tackling her to the floor like wait! I must snark at you! You are legally obligated to speak with me!

Isaac is still somehow a pretty chill guy to work with if you’re Camarilla.

Christina didn’t visit VV or Ash. Interestingly, Ash didn’t show up at the hunter monastery later. Did he just die in his club? Is he still there, waiting, deciding?

Christina @ Andrei: what the fuck is this shit

“I don’t care. It’s ugly. Clean it up.”

SEWERS.

Not as bad as I was expecting

Did take shortcut, run away from fights, ducked out in the middle for a snack, and bring 7 blue blood packs tho

Gary threatened to shred her face with a cheese grater, which I thought was Toreador only dialog?? It must be connected to the Appearance Stat. Which Christina has maxed out.

When Heather became Christina’s ghoul, I was delighted because I thought this meant Christina would always have fresh blood.

No

If you ask to feed on her too soon after the last time, Heather says she feels light headed and wants to lie down. The dialog exits out

I love you, Heather bb

Perfected the art of nudging NPCs into corners

Mitnick’s quests now feature Enforced Nap Time for all guards

Seriously, Dominate is ridiculously powerful, hooooly shit. I get why people like it. I also like it when people do things I ask them to do.

Christina can’t sneak, but she CAN strongly encourage everyone to choke on their own tongues.

Very high contrast in the beginning of the game: 2 punches would knock her over, but anyone she spoke to would obey immediately and without question

Chinatown goes by ridiculously fast if you can’t sneak and don’t do any sidequests besides Mitnick’s.

For the first time ever, Zhao survived! This is because Christina made him take a nap.

He just told her to leave

You’re welcome, my good dude

IDK if it’s a game glitch, but Christina would vocalize? In battle, she grunts with effort and pain.

Got to the point where I kept expecting Dominate dialog in every interaction and would get disappointed if it didn’t show up. What do you mean I have to actually convince people? That’s lame.

Christina was polite and charming to Ming Xiao, who also conveyed a deeper betrayal than normal at the end. ;-;

I promise to give you a Ventrue boy toy soon, Xiao

Finale arc quests went by VERY FAST because Christina can’t sneak for shit. Just run in, Dominate blazing

You can skip the outside bit of the Hallowbrook Hotel if you find the open door on the top level what the fuuuuuuuuuCK

[“A Little Party Never Killed Nobody” plays while Christina wipes out the Sabbat in 10 minutes]

Andrei disappeared mid-fight and didn’t come back until I complained that only I was allowed to run away from boss fights

I’m categorizing “triggering the interaction to save Heather” as something quite difficult to do. The timing has to be just right. I’ve missed it twice now. BUT hacking into the game to save her is easy.

I love you, Heather bb

Final Beckett talk had the vibe of “You’re a very different person than me, but you’re also High Humanity and trying to do good. You don’t deserve to die.”

Damsel threatens to kick the shit out of Christina and is extremely reluctant to tell her where Nines is

“Out of all people, they send you? All right, let’s just talk terms.” - Nines because Christina was short with him one (1) time

WEREWOLF HARD

You can just?? Walk out of your haven?? Without speaking to Jack at all???

I didn’t do that

But I could have

[”Dust in the Wind” plays while Christina kills entire Camarilla hit squad in 3 minutes]

You can visit Mercurio and Trip on your way out of Santa Monica??

Mercurio makes no comment on the blood hunt. Business as usual with him. This is fine.

Christina: I’m SO going to adopt that ghoul. And perhaps Isaac can be convinced to part with Romero...

(For the first time ever, my PC boinked Romero. Twice, to receive the break up email)

This is definitely a glitch, but Christina brushed up against Caine, and a worried voice said, “Are you all right?” It sounded like the same voice actor, but a higher pitch?

Always nice to think about Caine demonstrating care

Christina asked Caine who he is, and Caine replied that he “gets people where they’re going. [He’s] a driver,”  which is a nice nod (lol) to both his literal job as a driver and as a shepherd/creator/god to Kindred. Caine creates and makes fate.

Caine triple checks with Christina that she’s sure Strauss won’t betray her. Thanks, Vampire Dad. :’D

For some reason, only other Ventrue guarded LaCroix’s tower. I wonder if this is intentional. Like all the other Camarilla Clans backed Strauss and left? So only LaCroix’s Ventrue lackeys remain? Anyway, it created some weird moments where Christina fought her double.

KILL YOUR DOUBLE

Sheriff laughed in haughty joy that he was to kill Christina. I don’t remember him laughing in other playthroughs.

Christina ruining Caine and Jack’s prank oh noes

[supernaturalfreewill]

Words: 5,103 Gabriel x Reader Warnings: none! A/N: This is part of a series! Read Part 1 first!

Your name: submit What is this?

The first door standing open down the long hallway was obviously your bedroom, and Gabriel wasn’t shy about stepping inside. At first, he simply stood in the center and glanced around eagerly, bouncing a little on his feet as he surveyed the space.

Cas followed him in much more tentatively, but curious as to what his purpose was.

“This is it, huh?” He strolled over to the small desk in one corner and picked up an open notebook and some loose papers, studying them closely. Apparently, nothing there really held his interest because he abandoned them quickly and started sliding open desk drawers.

“This is—I think this is what humans would call an ‘invasion of privacy,’” Cas said.

“Gabriel, I really don’t think you should—” Cas tried to argue, but the archangel simply shushed him and opened the cover. He ran his fingers over your handwriting—the impressions were deep on the page and he liked the slanting, hurried cursive. “Ghouls in Minnesota, Vampire in New York, Werewolf in Arkansas… This is nothing but hunting notes,” he said with disappointment, flipping through the pages.

“What did you expect?” Cas asked him.

“Something with a little more insight into who Y/N is, perhaps,” Gabriel said, shutting and typing the journal closed again and replacing it in the false bottom of your drawer, kicking it closed with his boot. “Hopes, dreams, roots, deepest secrets… that sort of thing,” he said.

Cas’s brow drew down low over his eyes again. “Knowing Y/N, I seriously doubt you will find any of that in writing in here…”

“Well, that’s just wishful thinking. Best case scenario. I will just have to get creative,” he said. Gabriel spun and looked at the small bedside table. There was a novel sitting on it and he grabbed it, opening it to the bookmark. “Y/N is an avid reader, hmm?” he said, more to himself than to Cas. “This is an ambitious read.” He studied the bookmark which was a folded piece of paper. When he opened it, it was a printed photo of you, Sam and Dean, and Cas. Sam had his arm draped over your shoulders and all of you were smiling for once. Gabriel stared at it for a long moment and Cas watched his expression soften into a thoughtful, faraway look. Finally, he folded it up again gently and replaced it in the novel, leaving it on your side table just the way he had found it.

Next, Gabriel went over to the dresser and glanced at Cas with a smirk on his face. “You know, it’s strange but most humans keep their delicate underthings in the exact same place—top drawer—” he said, grasping the handle.

Cas slammed his hand into the drawer keeping it closed and Gabriel looked at him in surprise. “I really think you’ve done enough spying.” Cas’s voice and expression were stern now, but it only elicited a mischievous glint in Gabriel’s golden eyes.

“Spying? I’m just trying to get to know this Y/N better,” Gabriel argued, doing his best to sound innocent. “I mean, so far all I know is she’s related to the two meatheads and hangs around with you. And, though it may be a surprise to you, that doesn’t actually tell me anything I’d like to know.”

“If you want to get to know her, why don’t you just go visit her now? Or wait and meet her when she’s back.”

Gabriel gave Cas a skeptical look. “Oh, yes. I’m sure Sam and Dean will have no problem with me sniffing around their Baby Sister. They’re not known to be particularly suspicious or protective.” His tone was dripping with sarcasm. “Especially after all those Dead Dean Days…”

Cas grimaced a little at the thought. “Well… you also saved them by facing Lucifer. They will not have forgotten that. You redeemed yourself, at least in part,” Cas said, tilting his head in his familiar habit.

The archangel looked surprisingly uncomfortable with Cas’s sincerity. “Fine. Enough snooping. Come on, brother,” he said, laying a heavy hand on Cas’s shoulder. “Let’s grab a drink and you can tell me all about losing your grace and what mortality feels like.”

Cas frowned, but he didn’t object. He was glad just to get Gabriel out of your room…

_ _ _ _ _ _

Several weeks later

You leaned your head back on the pillows and let out a frustrated groan. “UGH! Where is this doctor?!” you demanded.

Sam gave you a look. “I’m sure he’s on his way,” he said gently, trying to placate you.

You threw off your blankets and climbed out of the hospital bed onto your feet, moving a little hunched over as you rolled your IV stand with you.

“Whoa, whoa! Hey!” Dean jumped up and stopped you. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I can’t stay in that bed another minute or I’m gonna lose it!”

“We’re not even sure if you’re going to get released today, so you might as well get used to the idea that you may have to stay in that bed for a couple more days,” he retorted. “So, get back in bed!”

You vehemently pointed a finger in his face. “HEY. You’re not my doctor! You don’t get to boss me around!”

Dean drew himself up to his full height and gave you a severe look.

You didn’t waver. “I’m not scared of you!”

This drew a laugh from Sam and when you glanced over he was shaking his head. “Y/N, please just at least sit down. I’m sure the doctor—”

“—is in!” As if on cue your doctor strolled through the door, you chart in his hand. He gave you a big smile. “Alright, Y/N. Hop back up on the bed again, would you? Let’s see how you’re doing.”

He hadn’t even examined your incision yet and the words were spilling out of you. “Can I go home today?” you asked urgently.

This elicited a laugh from him and he gave you an appraising look. “As soon as I know, you’ll know,” he said diplomatically.

You tried to be a good patient and sit perfectly still as he checked your incision but you couldn’t help fidgeting and chewing your bottom lip. The doctor straightened back up and crossed his arms. “Well, no sign of infection. Incision seems to be healing nicely, so—” “YES!” you exclaimed.

“SO,” he continued through a smile, “I’m going to release you but with very strict instructions. I need you to really hear me right now, Y/N. Okay?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes. I’m listening.”

“NO lifting anything heavier than a few pounds—you know what, no lifting anything, okay? Absolutes seem safer with you. And you are NOT to be doing anything physical for 3 more weeks, at which time you can start with some easy physical activity. Long walks, some stretching, that kind of stuff. And you will need to get another post-op check-up around then too.”

You nodded. “Okay. I got it.”

“Now, your brothers here ARE now in charge since I can’t be there to keep you in line,” he said, a knowing smile on his face. He must have overheard you and Dean from the hallway.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you argued.

“I’m not kidding. You need to let them take care of you. And you two,” he said, pointing at Sam and Dean in turn, “need to make sure she rests.”

A gruff laugh escaped Dean. “Easier said than done.”

“I know,” the doctor said. “I’ve been dealing with her for only about a month. You two have been dealing with her for a lifetime,” he joked, shooting you a glance.

“I’m right here, you know!” you burst out. “I can hear everything you’re saying!”

The doctor laughed and held out a hand to you. “Y/N, it’s been a pleasure to watch you recover. Now be well, and rest.”

This time you didn’t have anything snarky to say and just grasped his hand in yours and shook it. “Thank you. For… not letting me die and stuff.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You’re welcome. Gentleman,” he turned to Sam and Dean who both shook his hand and thanked him repeatedly. “The nurse will be in shortly to take care of that IV and check you out. Take care.”

You watched him go with a triumphant smile on your face. Sam and Dean both looked a little anxious, however. “Oh, come on, guys! He said I’m fine. We can go home!”

“You heard the doctor though. Seriously, Y/N. You’re on house arrest,” Dean said forcefully.

“Whatever. I don’t even care. Just get me out of here,” you said climbing down to your feet again. Soon a nurse came in and removed your IV. You kicked Sam and Dean out of the room so you could change out of your hospital gown for the first time in what felt like years. Another few minutes and you were stepping into the hallway, a huge grin on your face.

Sam shouldered your bag and gave you an appraising look. “You alright?” You were still a little hunched over. Straightening up completely still made you sore.

“I’m great,” you said. “Look! I’m wearing actual clothes!” You glanced down at the sweatpants and t-shirt you had pulled on. “Sort of.”

Dean couldn’t help smiling at you fondly while shaking his head. “You sure you don’t want me to go grab a wheelchair? It’s a bit of a walk.”

You scowled at him.

“I’m being serious, Y/N,” Dean said, the gravel in his voice deepening. “You’ve only done short walks around the floor.”

“There is no way in hell you’re getting me in a wheelchair.”

You managed to make it out to the Impala, though Dean had insisted on driving right up to the exit to pick you up. You slid into the back seat and sighed. “Oh, I missed you, Baby,” you said out loud, sinking in to the familiar seat and breathing in that particular smell that always made you remember road trips and hunts and late-night cheeseburgers.

Dean smiled at you in the rearview mirror. He lowered his voice and turned to Sam. “You talk to Cas?” he asked in an undertone.

“No. It still just keeps going straight to voicemail,” Sam said. “But he texted me again… to explain the origins of pineapple,” Sam said, a tight smile on his face. “It took like 30 texts.”

“What the hell is going on with him? He’s been weirder than usual.”

“Well, he has been trapped at the bunker alone for kind of a long time…” Sam said.

“He could have talked with us if he would ever answer his goddamn phone,” Dean countered, turning onto the highway. “Maybe he’s finally cracked.”

“Who?” you asked, leaning forward and resting your hands on the back of the front seat.

“Nobody,” Dean said. You scoffed.

“That’s convincing…” you said under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Why don’t you just focus on getting all healed up and let Sammy and me worry about everything else, alright?”

“You know, it’s weird, but my cells do that part pretty much on their own. It doesn’t require much conscious thought on my part. So, if someone has cracked—”

“Nobody’s cracked,” Dean said gruffly, hands steady on the wheel.

“You just said—"

“I just said nothing for you to worry about,” Dean said finally.

You let out a frustrated growl and changed tactics. “Fine. I’ll change the subject,” you said smugly.

“Thank you…”

“Any news on Gabriel?” you asked loudly, sinking back into your seat comfortably.

There was a long, silent pause from the front seat and you could see that Dean’s grip on the steering wheel had tightened.

Sam turned partially around, one arm on the seat back and looked at you. “You know there isn’t.” “No, I don’t know that. You two are obviously keeping something from me, so I think it is fair to assume you’re keeping other stuff from me too.”

“We really don’t know anything about Gabriel,” Sam said, sincerity written all over his face.

You chewed your bottom lip anxiously. Sam took in your expression. “Have you—seen him again?” he asked.

“No. No, nothing like that but since that happened, I just have this feeling—he said we would be seeing each other again and it’s like, in my core, I know that’s true.” You looked up and caught Sam’s eyes, they were steady on your face and narrowed slightly in concern. “I know that doesn’t make any sense and I know you and Dean said he’s gone but it’s such a strong feeling. I don’t really know how to explain it.”

“I believe you,” Sam said. “For now, I guess we just have to wait…”

Many hours later, Dean finally pulled the Impala into the underground garage at the bunker and opened the door for you. Inside, an archangel and a graceless angel perked up as they heard noise in the garage. Cas shot upright and glanced over at Gabriel, who only smiled serenely back at him.

“Showtime!”

Cas gave him an apprehensive look and started off in the direction of the garage immediately. Gabriel followed, but at a leisurely pace, seemingly completely unconcerned.

But Cas didn’t know that this was mostly an act. There was a strange sensation in Gabriel’s chest and it was growing the closer he came to the moment when he would see you—meet you—for real this time, not in some mind dreamscape. He couldn’t even explain to himself why but he felt that this moment was going to change everything for him in some way—he knew no reason why that would be true. He had been fascinated with you since he first became aware again and had been thrust into some role connected with you… but he had this feeling, like a heavy block of cement in the middle of his chest sitting on top of his heart which was maddening in its oddity. It was like expectation and something more had solidified and despite all his trying he couldn’t shift it.

Dean pushed through the door into the bunker trailed closely by you, and then Sam hauling your bag and his own. “Cas?!” Dean roared. “Are you alive in here?”

Cas came hurrying around a corner in the hallway and his expression stopped all of you dead in your tracks. His blue eyes were wide and his face was quite pale, further making the shocking blue stand out.

“…what’s going on?” Dean asked. He was immediately reaching for his pistol.

“Don’t panic, but there’s someone here—”

“How is that supposed to make me not panic?!”

“Cas, do I need to get Y/N out of here?” Sam demanded over your shoulder, already trying to move around you to shield you protectively.

You were surprisingly quiet and Dean looked over his shoulder at you. Your heart was pounding in your chest. “Cas, who is it?” you asked quietly.

He only swallowed at the tightness in his throat and opened his mouth to offer some kind of explanation, but no sound came out. You felt like you didn’t really need him to answer anyway. You already knew.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

A second figure now came around the corner and Dean dropped his duffel bag where he stood, his fists clenched.

“Welcome home, Winchester Clan!” Gabriel said cheerfully, his arms spread wide.

There was just a stretch of tense silence between all of you which the archangel finally broke again. “Dean, if you wouldn’t mind just stepping a liiiittle bit to your right so I can—”

“What the hell are you doing here? How are you here?!” Dean demanded, his jaw tensing.

“That’s how you want to start this?” Gabriel asked, a grimace on his face. “Come on, Dean. I’m here to help. I’m not here to kill you over and over again. Not this time. I promise. Scout’s honor.” He made a small cross over his heart with one finger. Gabriel tilted his head, trying to look around Dean to get a better view of you, but it wasn’t necessary because the next moment you stepped around him slowly.

He couldn’t help the small smile that grew on his face. You found the golden light in his eyes staggering, just as you remembered it from your vision.

“…you,” was all you could get out. Sam and Dean exchanged a tense glance.

He bounced a little on the balls of his feet and slipped his hands into his pockets, actually the result of nerves, but he was hoping it just made him look nonchalant and nonplussed. “Me.”

“You’re—but you’re… What are you doing here?” you asked quietly.

“I told you we’d be seeing each other again, didn’t I? You didn’t believe me?” he asked, cocking one eyebrow at you. You didn’t answer, just peered at him intensely.

He inclined his chin a little as he studied you. “Here—” he said. He moved around Cas and started toward you but was immediately met with loud yells and threats from the Sam and Dean causing him to stop abruptly and raise his hands, palms out. “Guys, guys, guys! Would you two just chill? Really! After all we’ve been through… I’d like to heal what’s left of that nasty gunshot wound if Y/N will let me. Or are you opposed to that? Because she’s in a lot more pain than she’s letting on. I’m guessing she’s hiding it so you two won’t go all crazy protective over her for the rest of her life.”

“No, I’m not!” you argued. Gabriel gave you a skeptical look.

“I can feel it,” he said. When he spoke those words there was something almost desperate in them. “Let me heal you. Please.”

You swallowed hard at the nervous lump in your throat and stepped around Dean again, giving him a small glance. “It’s okay,” you said.

Gabriel stopped right in front of you and gently touched two fingers to your forehead.

You straightened up immediately and breathed in a deep breath, completely filling your lungs, something you hadn’t been able to do without pangs of pain since you’d been shot. Your shoulders relaxed and you gave him a grateful but perplexed look. “Thanks.”

“Welcome home,” he said again, but this time it was quiet, like it was only for your ears. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the fingertips that had just touched your skin. They felt strange, almost like the sensation when your foot falls asleep.

Dean suddenly interrupted the moment by pushing past Gabriel and heading toward the front of the bunker at high speed. Cas turned and jogged to catch up with him, wilting a little under the scowl Dean sent his way.

“Cas, you couldn’t have given us a heads up?” Dean asked angrily.

“You don’t think I tried? He broke every single phone I had and all the new ones I managed to get a hold of. And it’s not exactly like I could just fly over, is it?” he finished bitterly.

Sam stopped next to the two of them and dropped his duffel bag. “So… all those weird texts weren’t from you,” he said with sudden understanding.

Cas looked confused. “What? Weird texts? No. What weird texts?”

The Winchesters and Cas suddenly heard laughter behind them and turned to see Gabriel standing in the doorway with a satisfied smirk. Their expressions were stern.

“Oh, come on! That series of texts about the fuzzy toilet seat lid covers? The ‘bedtime thoughts’ texts? Pure genius on my part. You have to see the humor in this!” Gabriel simply watched as the muscles in their jaws twitched.

Dean rubbed a hand over the stubble on his chin. “Goddammit. What the hell is going on?” He turned and looked to Sam who was still just staring in Gabriel’s direction with somewhat wide eyes.

“It’s really not that complicated, Dean. I was sent back to watch out for Y/N. And that’s really all I know.”

This caused deep wrinkles in both Sam and Dean’s foreheads. “Okay, first of all, your definition of ‘not complicated’ could use some adjustment. I would say a DEAD archangel coming back to life is pretty complicated. Second, why does she need anyone more than us watching out for her?” Dean growled.

“Well, seeing as she was just shot and almost died I don’t think I need to really answer that question,” Gabriel snarked back.

Dean’s jaw and fists tensed and Cas stepped forward to put a hand on his shoulder to stop him from attempting to throttle the archangel. Gabriel only smiled serenely.

“That wasn’t their fault,” you argued, having just appeared behind Gabriel in the doorway, feeling sick again because you knew your brothers were already blaming themselves. “It could have been any one of us.”

“But it wasn’t,” Gabriel pointed out.

You looked suddenly weary. “I don’t know why we’re still talking about this at all. I’m completely fine. Better than fine now that I’m magically healed me up. I feel like there are more important things we should be discussing.”

Gabriel raised a finger, like he had a sudden idea. “You’re right. Chiefly, I need to know everything about you. Your likes, your dislikes, formative childhood experiences, deepest darkest secrets—”

You crossed your arms over your chest and were about to snark something back at the archangel but Dean beat you to it. “Alright. That’s enough!” he growled. “You were supposedly sent here to protect her, not be a total creep. You’ve just met her and you’re already trying to invade her privacy,” he said gruffly, his green eyes piercing on the angel’s face.

“Well, technically I think he already—” Cas tried to stop himself but it was too late and your eyes snapped over to Gabriel as he winced and anxiously ran a hand through his hair. Your mouth was hanging partially open and your expression was incredulous.

“What the hell did you do?” you demanded. When he didn’t answer and only shrugged vaguely, the corners of his mouth pulling down in a frown, you turned to Cas again who was doing his best to look anywhere but in your direction. “Cas… Cas! Look at me!”

Gabriel spun and locked his eyes on Cas as well. “Brother, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll be quiet…” he said through his teeth, keeping a forced smile fixed on his face.

“We all know you aren’t good at lying, Cas. Even a lie of omission. Are you really going to lie to me? After everything I’ve just been through?” You purposely tugged on his heartstrings and walked toward him so he had no choice but to glance at you as you moved closer. “Cas, I almost died. And you’re not going to tell me what this archangel who is supposedly here to watch out for me was up to?”

Gabriel shot you a look that was both a little stunned and impressed. “That’s low,” he said. You raised your eyebrows at him and then turned back to Cas again.

You could see the internal turmoil crescendoing until it finally burst out of him. “He went through some of your things in your room. I tried to stop him but—”

“Dude!” Sam exclaimed, his jaw clenching with anger. Dean shut his eyes against the rising tide of rage and his fists tightened. `

Your jaw dropped open again and you turned back to Gabriel and away from a very conflicted-looking Castiel. “What the hell!?” you demanded angrily. “Haven’t you heard of privacy? What exactly gave you the right to go through my room?”

He looked a tinge guilty for a moment before rearranging his features into a questioning expression. “Well, I think I should know a little about my charge—”

You shot a glare at him that was piercing and Gabriel felt his throat tighten. “Your charge? Let’s get one thing straight right now… I’m not your ‘charge’. You do not get to boss me around or make decisions for me.”

Gabriel tilted his head and gave you a peculiar look. “Well… strictly speaking I don’t think that’s true… You see, I’m supposed to protect you which means that I get to decide—”

You interrupted him angrily. “No. No, you don’t get to decide.” You looked at Cas and your brothers who all looked pretty unhappy about what had just played out. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.” As you started down the hall, you heard his footsteps following behind you and as you reached the door to your room you spun to face him. “What do you think you’re doing?” you demanded.

Gabriel looked around as if he was expecting you to be talking to someone other than him, but he saw no one else. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“I’m just doing my job. You said you’re going to bed so I’m going to watch over you and—”

You angrily bit the inside of your cheek. “No. You’re not. You can stay the hell away from me while I sleep. You’re not setting foot in my room again.”

“Oh, come on! Y/N, please. You’re not really mad about—”

You turned abruptly and slammed the door in his face. Okay, so maybe you were really mad… “You know I can just appear in your room! I’m an archangel. An oak door isn’t—” The door whipped open again and you stood there fuming.

“Go away.” Your voice was quiet but Gabriel could easily hear the anger in it and for now he decided just to back off. You slammed the door in his face again and he sighed heavily, running a hand back through his hair.

Sometime later, Cas wandered down the hall and found Gabriel sitting on the floor, his back up against the wall just beside your shut door, his legs stretched out in front of him. Gabriel looked at him as he approached.

Cas didn’t say anything, just took a seat beside the archangel on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him and staring at his shoes. Gabriel broke the silence first. “Look how far I’ve come,” he said, his tone clearly sarcastic. “I used to lead legions and now I’ve been assigned as some kind of glorified babysitter and here I am, a fallen archangel, sitting on the floor outside her door.”

“You probably wouldn’t be sitting here on the floor if you hadn’t botched that meeting with Y/N so spectacularly,” Cas mused. To his surprise the archangel actually laughed and glanced over at him.

“Yeah, I think you’re right about that, Castiel.” Gabriel sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. “I have a tendency toward self-destructive behavior.”

“When I was an angel, I mean—with my grace, so did I,” Cas said. “Perhaps there is something about being so-called ‘immortal’ that makes us reckless with our own lives.”

Gabriel sighed again heavily. “Perhaps.”

Cas looked over at him and he could see genuine worry on his brother’s face. “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine in the morning. She’s tough. Strong. But kind-hearted. She’ll let you make up for it.” Cas fiddled with the hem of his sleeve. “I see such a mixture of Sam and Dean in her.”

This only drew Gabriel’s brow down more deeply. “That’s what I’m worried about,” he said thoughtfully. “I don’t know why I was sent to protect her, but I do know how reckless the Winchesters are with their lives. And all without a single drop of grace.”

Cas’s lips curved ever so slightly in a thoughtful smile. “Yes. But selfless.”

Gabriel glanced over at his brother and felt a pang in his heart for his graceless friend. “Do you miss your trench coat and suit?” he asked him.

Cas’s eyes lifted in surprise at the question and he glanced down at his sweatshirt, picking a piece of lint off the sleeve. “I do. But… it felt wrong wearing it somehow. Like being in a suit of armor while not on the battlefield.”

Gabriel nodded and leaned his head back against the wall. A few moments of comfortable silence passed before he broke it. “I’m sorry for being such a dick since I arrived. All the phones… all the lying… all the snooping. It’s strange to say but I had a level of-—anxiety,” he tilted his head in a question, not even entirely sure that was the right word for what he had been feeling, “about meeting Y/N. And I still messed it up.”

Cas sighed again and patted a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Tomorrow is a new day.” He climbed to his feet and looked down at the archangel, a strange sight sitting like a child on the floor during time-out. “Tomorrow. Goodnight, brother.”

[lunarkittens]

now you’re on your own (won’t you come back home?) (1/?)

Word Count: 2,760 (In this part)

Rating: T

Pairings: Gen

Summary: Dean doesn’t believe in fate. But it is a strange coincidence that the one time Dean is ever in California, pointedly trying not to think about his little brother hours away in Palo Alto, he gets a voicemail saying Sam’s in the hospital. Pre-Series.

Dean doesn’t believe in fate. He can believe in a lot of other things, sure. Ghosts, ghouls, demons. Those are things he’s seen, things he can’t deny because they’ve been right before his eyes, have even tried to kill him a few times, but fate? Destiny? Give him a break. If any part of Dean’s life has been fate, he’s gonna need to talk to the guy in charge and maybe knock a couple of his teeth out, the fucking asshole. How’s that for fate?

But it is a strange coincidence that the one time Dean is ever in California, pointedly trying not to think about his little brother who’s hours away in Palo Alto, he gets a voicemail from Sam.

The mere shock of seeing his name on his phone makes him blink hard, like he must be imagining it, but he closes his eyes and opens them and pinches himself and it’s still there, still says Sam on the screen, still says he left a voicemail and all of a sudden Dean feels sick, his heart rate skyrocketing into the triple digits easily. He considers ignoring it. Sam left, after all. Looked Dean right in his eyes and still left, slamming the door behind him, like Dean never meant anything to him at all. Screw Sam.

But this? Two years into it?

Sam wouldn’t call him unless it was an emergency. The voicemail is from half an hour earlier, when Dean had been wiping sweat off his brow with his sleeve while a fire roared in a dug grave. Bye bye, bitch, he’d muttered, lingering a bit longer than he normally would. So this is California, he thought. He closed his eyes and felt the night air. Closed his eyes and wondered if he could maybe feel Sam somehow, his energy distinct in this great expanse of a state that crawled down so much of the West Coast. He came up empty, no energy, no little brother, and got in the car.

He didn’t want a motel, he wanted to gun it out of Cali ASAP and get the hell away from redwood trees and mountains and dry heat before he did something crazy like show up at Sam’s dorm or start crying. As far as he was concerned, California had stolen Sam from him.

There was no wanting to see the sights after that.

And then he’d gotten back in the car and seen the voicemail. Shakily, Dean presses play.

“Hey Dean.” Sam says. Dean shifts in his seat, ready to focus, to absorb. It’s been two years since he’s heard this voice, heard it say his name. However angry he still is, however sad, he wants to savor it.

Sam says his name the same way he always has, the exact same intonation, but he’s sighing it this time. “I don’t know if....Hell, I don’t even know if you care, or if you’ll even listen to this...and you don’t have to call me back, but well...You used to get pissed if I didn’t tell you stuff like this, so here goes. I’m at the hospital.”

Dean tenses, fists gripping the steering wheel tightly. “They’re gonna have to remove my appendix. I was really sick all day and my friend rushed me here. I’m fine,” Sam rushes to say.

“But I just thought...I don’t know why I called. Be safe out there, okay? I know you know what you’re doing, but just- God. Stay alive, okay?” And then there’s a silence that hangs in the air, just waiting to be filled before Dean hears Sam sigh and the voicemail ends.

Okay, fine. Palo Alto, it is. Dean puts the car in drive and intends to fully ignore the speed limit the whole way there, letting Led Zeppelin keep him awake.

When he gets there, and fuck it took a while. Why is California so fucking big? What if he had been on the East Coast? He calls three hospitals and finds the one Sam’s at, pulling into the parking lot and going inside.

It’s weird, when the receptionist asks his name and there’s nothing fake this time, no fake ID to pull out, nothing to lie about. He’s just...just himself. Dean Winchester, here to visit his brother.

“He finished surgery earlier.” The lady says to him.

“I’ll go ask the doctor if you can see him, but I’m sure he’s unconscious.”

“That’s fine,” Dean says. “It’s just kind of my job to look out for the kid, you know?”

Dean doesn’t know what it is, but something in his voice makes the lady look at him more intensely than she had a minute ago.

“Yeah,” she says, voice full of a meaning Dean can’t understand, the way that sometimes happens with strangers. “I do.”

She comes back a few minutes later while Dean sits in a rickety waiting room chair made of wood and she tells him where to go to find Sam. He wonders what friend of his took him here, can’t help but think that it should have been him instead. Him taking care of his brother, and no one else. Where is this friend of his, anyway? Who dumps someone at the hospital and doesn’t still around?

Dean distantly remembers as he makes his way to Sam that Christmas is soon. College kids go on break, leave for the holidays and come back after. He’ll have to ask Sam about it, if he’s been all alone. He won’t ask Sam to come back, already knows how that’ll go.

It doesn’t stop him from wishing for it.

Dean gets some of the worst coffee he’s ever had and pairs it with a plastic wrapped sandwich and some chocolate chip cookies from a vending machine he sees on his way to the room. Odds are Sam is gonna be unconscious for a while and Dean might as well have something in his stomach while he waits for Sam to wake up.

The doctor is around, greets Dean, says Sam is gonna be just fine, just needs to rest undisturbed, spend some time recovering at home. Says if Sam had gotten there any later, his appendix would have burst. The thought makes Dean shudder.

Sam looks young. 20 but to Dean he’ll always look 15. His hair is still long, his face serene in sleep from pain medication, and as much as it hurts to admit, he doesn’t look like a hunter at all. His features are too soft, not angry or hardened enough. It’s all Dean can do to not reach a hand out to stroke Sam’s hair, caress his forehead. That’s his Sammy. He thinks back to the voicemail, back to Sam saying, I don’t even know if you care. Of fucking course, Dean cared. How could Sam even think that? It was Sam who’d left-

And then his father’s voice, hard and absolute, comes booming through his head like a crack of thunder.

“If you walk out that door, don’t you ever come back,” And Sam’s eyebrows furrowing, as if he’s holding back tears, and Sam’s look at dean, it hadn’t been angry after all, now that he thinks about it, it had been- Oh, Sammy. Never.

Never.

Dean hangs his head and leans forward. He can’t tell in this hospital gown, but Sam looks okay. A bit skinny, hair a little too long, but hey. That’s Sam. At least California hasn’t changed him that much. He’s got a nice tan about him, a glow that looks sallow in the hospital lighting but Dean knows would look glorious in the sunlight.

Dean falls asleep in the hospital chair an hour into it, stomach full and head at an angle that’s gonna pinch later, but he had a long drive and Sam is here right where he can see him and that’s more than Dean’s had in a long time, and some restless part of him that never lets itself lay down and sleep is actually at peace for once, so he closes his eyes.

He tries not to think of Sammy all sweaty and shaky, sick and pale and clutching his abdomen, and then it hadn’t even been Dean who was there for him.

Dean wouldn’t have even know about this, not ever, not if Sam hadn’t decided to call, and why did he? Dean intends on finding that out when Sam wakes up. Why now?

Did Sam ever miss him? He sure missed Sam, when he’d let himself admit it. There are ghosts like the ones he sees every day, but there’s another kind of ghost too. Ones that are entirely human and still alive but haunt him all the same, and Sam’s been one of them ever since he left.

And there’s no bones to burn, nothing to salt or destroy, just Sam with him every step of the way, just haunting him all the way from California.

Sam wakes up not long after Dean does, groaning and blinking hard, squinting as his eyes adjust to the light, rubbing them. Dean almost laughs, the familiarity of the expressions. Sam’s woken up the same way his entire life, and Dean tries to get rid of his smile. he’d almost forgotten how awkward this was gonna be, having to interact with each other. Dean had gotten used to seeing Sam, had been sitting here for a while, but Sam was probably still stuck in yesterday, hadn’t expected Dean to even care, if his voicemail was anything go by, let alone be sitting next to him.

Sam looks around and when his eyes fall on Dean, he startles, hand on his chest.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You scared the hell outta me,” he says, and Dean laughs.

“It’s not funny.” Sam says. “I thought you were a ghost or something.” Dean puts a hand on Sam’s shoulder with careful pressure.

“Not dead yet, Sammy. got a few years left in me.”

“You got more than that,” Sam says, stretching in bed and wincing slightly.

“And what about you?” Dean says. “Your appendix just decide to go AWOL?”

“Ugh,” Sam groans. “Dude, yeah. I was doing some reading, trying to get ahead for next semester, you know? And then I just felt this...pressure, on my side. Whatever, I just ignored it for a while. Then I started throwing up, and I just couldn’t stop.”

“Dude, gross!” Dean says, making a face to offset how bad he feels for Sam. Sam smiles at him, and they’re silent.

“How’d you get here?” Dean asks after a minute.

“My buddy Kyle hadn’t left the dorms yet so I called him and he dropped me off. It’s a lot cheaper than an ambulance.” Dean nods.

“And where’s Kyle at now?”

“Home. Everybody’s gone home for break. Believe it or not, it’s almost Christmas.” Sam says, smiling and shaking his head, mostly to himself.

“I know it doesn’t look like it, though.” Sam says, and yeah, no white Christmases here, that’s for sure.

“Where the hell are you staying?” Dean asks. Sam shrugs.

“Same place I did last year,” he says. “Pay extra to stay over break. I’m not the only one there. There’s a lot of international students who can’t get home.”

“Who’s gonna take care of you?”

“I am,” Sam says. “It’ll be fine. It’s pretty basic stuff. I am an adult, you know.”

“Sam, cmon.” Dean scoffs.

“What?” Sam says, defensive.

“We’re not doin that, okay? You just got surgery. You’re not gonna be by yourself.”

“Well, who else is gonna take care of me?” Sam asks. Really? Dean wants to ask. Is he really asking that?

“Really, Sam?”

“No, tell me. What- You’re just gonna put off hunting for a month and nurse me back to health?” Dean swallows hard.

“What if I did? Huh? What if I came down here just so I could do that?” Dean holds his gaze defiantly, jaw clenched, and Sam raises his eyebrows. He deflates, catching Dean off guard. It makes him raise his eyebrows.

“Dean, come on.” Sam says gently. “You can’t do that. There’s people out there who need you.”

“That’s really rich, Sam.” Dean bites out.

“That’s really rich coming from you. Just shut up, okay? You’re damn right people need me. One of them just so happens to be sitting in this room, and he just got a piece of his body cut out of him a few hours ago. I’m needed here.”

“Dean-”

“No, Sam! Okay?” Dean says, standing up now.

“Come on...Tell me. If you don’t want my help, say it. Tell me there’s not a part of you that wants me to stay and wants me to take care of you like before.” Dean swallows hard against a growing tightness in his throat, a burning in his eyes. He stares at Sam with a focus and intensity that could start fires.

“If you tell me that you don’t want me here, I’ll get right back in the car and leave. You won’t ever have to hear from me again. But you have to say it.”

Sam’s eyes are wet. He’s losing the same battle Dean is fighting right now.

“I’m not gonna say it,” Sam says softly. “You’re not gonna hear it. Not from me. I can’t...”

“I mean, you- You left us, Sammy,” Dean says more gently, more open and devastated than he ever wanted sam to hear him sound. He sits down now, posture nonthreatening.

“I mean, how am I supposed to-“

“Dean,” Sam says, firm enough to cut Dean off but not angry, not enough to start a fight. “You don’t understand.”

“I think I understand just fine-“

“No, Dean. I’m not gonna let Dad do this to us anymore! Do you see what’s happening? No more misunderstandings. I left him. I never wanted- I didn’t want to leave you. But then Dad said I couldn’t come back, and you didn’t say any different, and I thought you didn’t want me around anymore either, so I never called, never texted. I didn’t expect you to come, okay? I thought you’d delete the voicemail without even listening to it.”

“I thought you’d washed your hands of me, Dean. I was alone.” Sam scoffs.

“I mean, really alone. I used to always have you. If I didn’t have anything else, I knew I had you. And then I didn’t. So don’t say that- Don’t act like I ran out on you. I wanted to take you with me.”

Dean turns that over in his mind, can’t believe it’s true. It’s too much, gives him too much hope. He knows all too well about the dangers of hope. It’s too heartbreaking and amazing in equal measure. He thinks about going back in time and leaving with Sam, working a job and sharing an apartment with him in California, drinking cold beer on the beach and quizzing sam before tests, eating ice cream and going on summer road trips.

“Sam,” he says, pushing away those thoughts. “You know I would never leave Dad.” Sam nods, a tear falling onto the sheets.

“I know.” He sounds defeated.

“And you also know,” Dean begins. “That I’d never abandon you either. I got the voicemail and I-” Dean scoffs. “I must have broken every traffic law out there trying to get here in time, and- and you’re staying with me, got it?” he says, pointing a finger at Sam.

“We’ll find a place for the month and get you better. You gave up your right to argue when you started crying all over your little hospital dress.”

“Asshole,” Sam snorts. “Now I really don’t want you to take care of me,” he jokes.

“Too bad! It’s gonna be Nurse Dean all month long, surgery boy.” Sam lets out a little laugh, and Dean relaxes a little bit.

“Dean,” Sam says, serious again. “A month. How are we gonna pay for a month? And dad- How are you gonna explain this to dad?”

“Dad doesn’t bother me much about hunts.” Dean shrugs. It’s the truth.

“He just calls, asks if I finished ‘em. Always tell him I did because I do. He’s not gonna press me for details. And payment, well. I know a guy who’s got us covered.”

Before Sam can even open his mouth to ask, Dean’s pulling out a fake credit card and showing it in all its shiny and fraudulent glory.

“Burt Maximoff is a very generous man.” Dean says, grinning. Sam snorts again, shaking his head, but he’s smiling fondly all the same.

A month.

[statticscribbles]

Family Struggles

Summary: Sweet Pea Male!Reader Request: sweet pea x male reader were the reader is Malachis little brother and he finds out about them and tries to separate them “I’m going out!” You duck out of the way of two of the Ghoulies who enter and you’re almost out the door when Malachai grabs your arm. “Where’s your jacket? And is that my shirt you dick?” “In the wash, and yeah; looks better on me; side’s doesn’t fit you anymore.” “It fits me-“ You arch your eyebrows and he scowls. “Okay fine. Take a spare.”

“I’m not going to get jumped in an alley, I’m a guy no one’s going to want anything to do with me, and everyone knows me as a Ghoulie anyways so there’s no way anyone would be dumb enough to do anything. Okay fine, Christ, now is when you choose to be a brother, not when I need a bike or-“ “You crashed your bike, I’m not lending you out mine so you can tank it and we get to hear about another motorcycle accident with you smeared all over the pavement.” “Wonderful talk, same time next week; I can schedule you in after my therapy appointment I now need.” “You’d need a therapy appointment when you find out what Penny and-“

“You’re my brother; I don’t care what you don’t get to do in bed. Goodbye.” You twist from his grip and grin as the door closes behind you. Every one of the Ghoulies know you as Malachai’s little brother, the one they have to look out for. You’re not sure how Malachai had managed to convince them of this, but they know to leave you alone once you cross the border they’ve set up with the rest of the Southside. It’s more of a bubble you muse, ducking into and out of alleyways letting your paranoia lead you back around twice before you slide into the edge of the quarry; the opposite side to any of the obvious entrances; you know you’ll end up with a few scraps and cuts but you reason it’s worth it when you can see a familiar figure lounging on the rocks.

“Jesus, you get tailed or some shit?” “If I was; I’m not anymore.” You grin, fisting Sweet Pea’s jacket to pull him into a long kiss. “Miss me that much then?” Sweet Pea grins as you pull back. “Did you miss me as well?” You laugh when he just pulls you back towards him. You sigh when you hear something snapping and Sweet Pea tenses. “Jake get your ass out here. If you can’t keep yourself quiet on a recon mission like this shit what you even trying out for the Ghoul’s for?” “Not Jake.” You go rigid turning to stare at Malachai who tilts his head grin lopsided before he exposes his teeth.

“You really think your slick Y/N? Using a snake for anything other than a punching bag isn’t how we roll ‘sides never know how many diseases they have. Awww are you defensive of him; calm down I can see your hackles are up. Put the knife away snake boy, you and my brother are done; he can find himself a Ghoulie that’s better than you by a mile.”

You scowl from the couch when Malachai throws your jacket on top of you. “Y/N stop sulking, I know you miss the pretty snake boy but we can find you someone better; we’ll go out and-“ “Fuck off.” “Come on Y/N you can’t seriously thing dating a Serpent would work out? That he’d want you once he found out you were a Ghoulie; my little brother at that?” “He knew.” “That you were family?” “No that I was a Ghoul and he didn’t care.” “Really? He didn’t care at all?” Your scowl falters and you can see his smirk grow. “It’ doesn’t matter.” “It will.” You swallow retreating to your bedroom; knowing the doubt that’s creeping into your chest is worse than any threat your brother will make.

He tries; you meet Sweet Pea at lunch for Pop’s a tradition and you see Jake cowering nervously by the door before Lance shoves him through after he pulls it open. “Boss said; oh heya Y/N we’re up on that big job, you in still?” You don’t respond glaring as you can hear your brothers bike roaring into the parking lot. “Heyyy; there you two are, scram. I need to have some family talk.” Sweet Pea glares and you try to shove yourself between him and Malachai as he sits down opposite both of you. “So, uhh snake boy. Tell me about yourself..”

“Sweet Pea; first off. Secondly you got a problem with me being with Y/N it doesn’t matter; FP doesn’t care he’s a Ghoul, you shouldn’t care I’m a snake if you want your brother to be happy.” “It’s cute you think you matter to me. The only reason I haven’t gotten rid of you is he’d”He jerks a thumb at you, grinning. “Be miserable and when he gets miserable I have to listen to him sulk and whine and he fumbles on jobs and-“ “Shut it.” “Aww are you angry I’m calling out your relationship?”

“Yes. I’m happy with Sweet Pea; even though he’s a-“ “Serpent;  I know, I know it’s so tragic and lovely and so like Romeo and Juliet but you both have dicks; you’re gonna end up dead over him and it’ll be your fault and I’ll lose my brother. I’m not going to let that happen.” “Okay.” You grin and he frowns. “Okay? I was expecting there to be more fight. I’m not; where are you going?” “To get my stuff. You not letting me be with Sweet Pea means I’m not your brother.” You grin when he falters; confused when he looks hurt for a moment. “Okay. Fine. Have fun.” His grin has lost his bite as you both go your separate ways from Pop’s.

You can’t count the number of times you’ve caught one of the Ghoulies or Malachai leering around or peering to hard at you and Sweet Pea as you tentatively move towards the Wyrm for the first time. True to Sweet Pea’s word FP jones and the rest of the Serpent’s are trying their best not to care. You try to avoid saying anything about the Ghoulies you don’t want either of them to catch the idea that you’ll spy for either side. FP pulls you aside two weeks after you’ve left your brother handing you a think brown envelope.

“He refused to let me leave till I said I’d give it to you.” You scowl at it, peeling it open grimacing when the letter is wrapped around a dead snake. “He’s trying to scare me; it’s nothing.” You assure Sweet Pea that Malachai won’t actually do anything to hurt him or yourself and you brush off the worry content to let him curl around you protectively and check the doors and windows are locked twice over. You say nothing of the note that your brother had left in your jacket, about the raid on the Wrym; you knew FP knew enough about it to get most everyone out. You slide out of bed, out of Sweet Pea’s protection and meet your brother halfway to the Wyrm; he grins.

“So you decided to abandon the snake nest?” “No.” “So you’re hear to fight me.” He snaps his teeth. “No.” “You chose him! You chose a snake over your family!” He snarls and you shake your head. ‘”You made me chose, I went with what made me happy.” “Don’t I make you happy? I’m your brother Y/N; we’re supposed to care about each other.” “I do, but I have to put my own happiness first.” “And he makes you happy?” “Yes.” You can hear how Malachai’s voice waivers.

“But he’s against us. He’s the enemy, he takes away our business. He’s part of the problem.” “Well maybe if you went straight; if we didn’t-“ “I’m straighter than you.” “No not the gay thing, like legality. Making an honest real living; but your nursing degree to good use, get a job at the hospital and-“ “You want me to be a nurse? You think this town would accept me in scrubs holding out needles and stitch kits at them?” “It’s worth a try; I mean it would prevent me and Sweet’s from ending up as Romeo and Juliet. Save you funeral costs.” “Wow that’s really morbid Y/N.”

“Well you’re my brother, being raised in the house of the dead leaves an effect. You have a dark sense of humour.” “It’s called realism.” You don’t comment how he nods to everyone and they fall back, his arm slung around your shoulder. “It’s not realism if you’re talking about killing people.” “Only if they deserve it.” He corals you back towards the house of the dead and you don’t comment when your room looks the same; he doesn’t comment on you texting Sweet Pea a good morning explaining what happened.

Support My Writing?

[satanicbarrymanilow]

*dumps my fic ideas into the tags*

Okay but a good vs evil fic, with the Church as evil of course, but good isn't good, and evil is awesome and accepting

Inspired by and visually aligned as a dark or 'corrupted' cartoon.

Really I just want an excuse to have the Papas do evil monologues and be dramatic badasses

Leaning towards the protagonist being an oc, a trans man in his very early 20s. He's fresh out of high school, looking for a trade school to join because he can't afford college, when an angel appears to him proclaiming him a descendant of some important person and that he's being called by the Most Holy to fight evil

He doesn't believe any of it - while he eventually accepts that this isn't a mental health crisis he's having and this is all very real, he still doesn't buy the whole 'special descendant' thing

The 'heroes' are your stereotypical ragtag group of 'good people', straight out of 'inspirational' fiction. They're all as unpleasant as you'd expect these people to actually be. They're a 'ragtag group of rebels' who despite being backed by the actual almighty aren't given half the instructions or assistance you'd expect an actual rebellion to get. This is all clearly god's will so no one but the protagonist complains

Meanwhile the Papas are doing shit like summoning demons, leading armies of ghouls, laughing evilly, and debating things between each other. The four papas are all in charge of different domains of the Church (and hell possibly), with Nihil technically in charge of the whole thing. Nihil is old and his mind is sharp, but he is tired and wanting to take the last walk into hell and rule from there, but not yet. Not until he's sure one of the Papas can take his place.

Papa 4 is the newest Papa and the only that isn't officially confirmed to be related to Nihil. The others aren't quite sure what to make of him, but he's determined to prove himself to everyone, and take Nihil's place.

Papa 3 is a flirt and an arrogant bastard. Catch him being extra dramatic while on the job. He's also the most likely of the Papas to engage in direct physical violence against the 'heroes'. Specifically he's going to punch a particularly asshole member of the group in the face for the bullshit the guy pulls

Papa 2 is cranky and intense and trying to stay professional while he feels the others goof off. He is the harshest of the Papas in his attack against the 'rebellion'

Papa 1 is called grandpapa sarcastically by the protagonist. He is not amused. But then again, not much really amuses him anymore.

They all honesty kind of forget the 'rebellion' is even a thing half the time.

I don't have names for any of the 'good' guys or terms for them, I just came up with this yesterday

Papa 4 takes interest in the protagonist and begins to interact with him in his Cardinal Copia guise. The other papas don't realize that for a good long while

The band is still a thing. Each of the Papas perform when not being eeeeeeevil

I could go on with more ideas but I wanna save some surprises for when I actually write it

Well? What do you think? Interested? Questions, comments? Let me know! I wanna hear from you! Thanks for reading so far

[teenage-mutant-ninja-freak]

Heart Shaped Bed

Mob Boss! Mikey x fem reader

Summery: It’s Halloween and you’re just looking for some fun of the dangerous variety. Enter: Michelangelo. A psychotic mob boss from hell who is in love with your best friend. Can you win him over and at what cost?

Warnings: NSFW, violence, alcohol mentions, car accident

((A/N: I have trouble writing crazy character despite being labelled as crazy myself, Mikey is tricky to write for in this AU so just bear with me))

October 31st, the night where all the ghouls and ghosts come out to play and superstition is at it’s highest since it’s rumoured that the veil between our world and the next is at it’s thinnest. You pull your skirt down your leg a little and take another sip of your free beer, one of the only perks of having a best friend who works at a bar. Paddy’s is always packed at this time of year, everyone is in costumes and drunk out of their minds; you are no different. You’re dressed as a sexy school girl because originality was never your forte and you wanted to show off your boobs a little, so what? You have the outfit down, complete even with bows on the thigh high socks and you look damn good.

It’s too loud to have a decent conversation with “Monster mash” blaring over the small speakers on the bar so you sit and give Sophie (Peach, as you know her) a forlorn look as if to say “more beer, please” and she complies. Peach looks radiant as she pulls the tap to refill your glass. Her light peach hair trailing down over her shoulders and her uniform or black slacks and a white t shirt with dark green hem hugging all of her curves. She was difficult to compete with but she was still so modest and complimentary of you it was hard to hold it against her. You knew half the regulars only came her to watch her, it didn’t stop you going after them though.

Looking around the room you watch and drunk idiots spill their drinks and desperately try to find someone to take home despite looking a mess, covered in fake blood or with vampire fangs. It was really something to watch. A guy in a ladybug costume fawns over a women dressed as Moticia Adams only to get the cold shoulder. You chuckle to yourself. Sat in the far corner of the room, at their usual table, sat the Turtle boys, a notorious gang in upside New York. They weren’t in costume, too good for it you assumed, and they didn’t look happy. You were aware, through Peach, that they made unsavoury deals in the back office of the bar and maybe tonight something went awry.

“Hey, babes!” you call over to Peach who is passing the incredible hulk a bud light “What happened over there?” you say gesturing subtly to the four well suited turtles.

“Not sure, I heard some yelling from the back room and then they came out. Something to do with that serial killer I think” She replies.

So a serial killing is hurting business. Huh. That explains their looking like someone died, someone has... You couldn’t keep your eyes from flitting towards them, sitting there so stoic and commanding while nursing a few now almost gone whiskys.

“Hey” you call over again. Peach turns and gives you a smile to let you know she’s listening “Isn’t that one the guy who-”

“- who choked out Steve for grabbing my ass? Yeah, that’s the one” she finishes your sentence for you.

You smile to yourself, Steve definitely deserved it. Pervert. You knew the turtle’s name but, like all residents of the bar, were reluctant to use it lest they hear you. But, tonight was a night to be brave and take chances, and you’d always wanted to bed one of them. Think of the status that gives you, sleeping with one of the most violent, deplorable men in the state. You know Mikey has a thing for Peach, on other nights his eyes don’t leave her, not that she notices; a good girl like her doesn’t have time for those “downworlders” as she calls them.

“Barkeep! I’ll take 4 martinis if you don’t mind. It’s time to take my shot” you announce to Peach who gives you a weary smile as she makes your drinks and places them on a tray in front of you.

You adjust your green and navy blue pleated skirt, hiking it further up so that the bottom of your ass cheeks would be on view and head over to the turtles, tray in hand.

You set down the drinks in front of them and say, with a smile:

“We have a special offer on tonight, boys. Buy four drinks and get me for free”

They stare at you completely unamused, but their looks weren’t going to discourage you now.

“Oh come on” you begin “That line would have killed two tables over”

Michelangelo takes a finger and runs it around the rim of his glass a few times before tipping it over, the contents of the glass spilling all over the table and onto your skirt. You jump back.

“Hey, what the fuck!” you cry out

“Act like a slut, get treated like a slut” he states.

With your tail between your legs, you huff and walk away. They didn’t have to be such assholes about it, and it kind of stung that you basically offered up your pussy on a plate and they sneered at you.

Back at the bar Peach raises her eyebrows as you take a few napkins and try and dry off your skirt.

“So, how’d it go?” she inquires

“About as well as you can expect from four mutant, snobby, rich dickheads”you reply. Peach leans over the bar and gives you a small hug and kiss on the cheek as her condolences.

Suddenly you feel eyes on you and turn around to see Michelangelo staring at you, mouth slightly agape and a strange look in his eyes. You would have called it regret, if you thought he was capable of feeling that. You ignore it and turn back to your drink.

You sense a presence behind you and turn once more to find him standing next to you looking awfully sheepish.

“Look” he begins “I’m...I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know you were a friend of- is there some way I can make it up to you? Is what I’m trying to say”

“Do you have a fresh size 3 shirt in that booth with you?” your snarky side is coming out

He laughs it off 

“No, but can I buy you a drink or” He looks you up and down “Interest you in any extra curricular activities?” His smile is so bright and charming, you feel yourself almost forgiving him for what had just occurred. And he was devilishly good looking, which helped a lot.

You trace your fingers lightly up his arm until they reach his shoulder.

“You wanna get out of here?”

He smirks, looks down and then back up at you

“Sure”

_____

Outside of the bar is freezing, especially in the tiny outfit you’re wearing and you shiver in the cold October air. Mikey shrugs off his blazer and puts it over your shoulders but you get the impression he’s doing this out of obligation rather than affection. It’s something about his movements, they feel more...Awkward and unsteady than fluid and confident. You know this isn’t his first time taking a girl home from Paddy’s, so you don’t fully understand what his deal it.

You arrive at his car, and despite knowing nothing about vehicles you can recognise that he drives a black Bentley and it must have cost him a fortune, not that he didn’t have the money. He could buy it 100 times over and still have more cash than half the people in New York.

He opens the passenger side door for you and you get in.

“So, my place or yours?” you ask

“Motel” he says plainly.

Curiouser and curiouser... You try and make a list of everything you know about him. He won’t take you home, he’s hot then cold and he has a thing for Peach. It clicks in your head. He’s using you to get closer to her. You almost smile, this was such a typical thing to happen to you, of course he only wants you for your relationship to her. It doesn’t matter either way, you’ll warm him up for her.

He drives fast and it’s not long before your on a highway and definitely breaking the speed limit.

You had been making casual conversation, the drive was always the worst part of a hook up, now you have to actually talk to them instead of make out. 

“I feel like we should have taken an uber” you say

He doesn’t turn to look at you or speak

“Because that way I could be touching you right now” You place a hand on his thigh and he still gives you no response. “Anndd you’re not listening. Great.”

He takes his eyes off the road and turns to you

“You’re the oldest in your family, you work as a manager in a clothing store but can’t fucking stand it there and you feel like we should have gotten an uber so you could be touching me right now. Did I get that right?”

You stare back at him slightly aghast and he continues to watch you. Suddenly you realise he hasn’t looked at the road this entire time and the car in front of you is slowing down

“Watch out!” you scream and the car swerves before he gains control again and brakes, the car rocking side to side a little from the sudden movements. You’re breathless and you turn to look at Mikey who simply bursts out laughing while he continues to drive, his eyes wide as full moons. He’s sick you think to yourself. Lucky you like that in a man, and there’s nothing like a near death experience to get the blood pumping.

You continue the car ride for a while in silence apart from the odd laugh from him who still seems amused that you nearly crashed.

He pulls off the side of the road into some shitty looking motel. A huge florescent sign that reads “Blue Moon Motel” sparks a little which doesn’t offer you any comfort. This place was a dump, but if it had a bed it would do.

________

Inside the room you shake off the blazer he gave you onto the chair in the corner of the room, by the end of the bed. The interior was cute, all shades of blue and white and the bed sheets has little lace style trimmings.which was delicate and sweet.

You fling yourself onto the bed, kicking off your shoes and pull out your phone, you decide you need music for this momentous occasion. You settle on “Heart Shaped Bed” by Nicole Dollanganger and press play. It’s creepy enough to be fitting for Halloween but slow enough to be romantic. The opening notes of the piano begin to stream from your phone which you place on the nightstand.

*lay me down, on a heart shaped bed Pretend it’s out wedding, pretend we just met*

“So” you spread your legs a little and look at Mikey “How do you want me?”

He gives you a wicked smile and then he’s upon you, biting and sucking at the delicate flesh of your neck with vigour. Clearly he couldn’t wait any longer you thought to yourself.

*Pretend we're in one of those movies They rent in the back of every seedy place We pass on the interstate*

You angle your head to kiss his mouth but he pulls away, making it clear that this is not a romantic occasion, this is just fucking and he doesn’t want you in that way. It doesn’t bother you, it just heightens the whole “big bad mob boss” fantasy although you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little disappointed by it.

he tears your blouse open revealing your chest and begins his work sucking and biting at your nipples and the tender skin of your breasts, you look down and can already see pinky purple bruises forming, a treasure map of where his mouth had been.

You moan a little at his touch but he continues his work down your stomach and towards your most sensitive area. Lifting up your skirt he places a kiss on you clothes mound before peeling off your underwear. You raise your hips slightly to help his get them off with ease and then he returns back down, licking between your folds until his tongue passes over your clit and causes you to moan hard.

*Just hold me through these lonely nights We'll have a blue wedding tonight*

“You want this?” he says from between your thighs, you can feel his hot breath against your skin, a sensation that is more than pleasant. 

“Yes, god yes” you squirm

“No.You wanna act like a slut, you get fucked like a slut” he returns.

Before you have time to respond her grabs you by the ankle and flips you over onto your stomach before pulling your hips up so that you’re on your knees with your shoulders and face still down on the bed. You hear him undo his flies and think for a moment as he lines up with your entrance

“wait, don’t we need protectio-” before you can finish he’s inside you and thrusting hard and deep, he gives you no time to adjust to his size and he is very sizeable... You cry out in the mixture of pain and pleasure that he’s giving you. As well as the music, the room fills with the obscene sounds of his flesh pounding against yours and the wet noises your pussy makes as he pushes in and out of you.

“you think sluts use protection?” he mocks

He feels to good for you to want him to pull out now, so you go with it, but raise yourself onto your elbows. His hands are on your hips but he trails one down your back to grab at your ponytail and pull your head back.

*So get the room with the heart shaped bed Make something gross feel romantic*

Your walls tighten around him and that elicits a grunt from him as he begins to pound harder into you, smacking your ass hard as he does. He pulls out and flips you over back onto your back and holds your legs up to your chin, his strong arm keeps them in place as he realigns himself with your entrance and pushes back in. This new position allows him to get deeper which you think is what he was hoping for.

*Make me so no one will ever want me again*

Now he has a full view of your face, eyes squeezed closed and face contorted in pleasure

“Open your eyes” he demands “Look at me when I’m fucking you”

He’s still fully clothed which you’re a little unhappy about, so you open your eyes and begin to undo his shirt. Your fingers tremble slightly partially from the force at which he’s fucking you, partially do to the alcohol you had that night.

*'Cause when I sleep with faith, I only Find a corpse in my arms on awakening*

You slide his shirt over his shoulders and throw it across the room, raising your head a little you bite into his now exposed shoulder to stifle your moans. You don’t understand how he can bring you so close to the brink this soon, but his pace is unyielding and unwavering. He fucks you like he’s punishing you.

He grabs you by the chin and squeezes 

“Open your mouth!”

you do as you’re told and he purses his lips, pauses and then spits down your throat, pushing at your chin to close your mouth and encouraging you to swallow. He’s disgusting but being treated this way only turns you on more, much to your shame, you can feel your cheeks flush with blood as he smiles down at you one he hears that familiar *gulp* sound.

*Just hold me through these lonely nights We'll have a blue wedding tonight*

He pulls out once more and gets of the bed which confuses you for a second, until he pulls you up by the hair and leads you to the wall. He spins you around and so you’re facing it and pushes your shoulders forwards and pulls your hips back so he has easier access to your pussy. He plunges his cock back inside of you and you rest your face against the wall as you take him in all the way. You think you might start seeing stars if he continues like this. Never mind him being a probable killer, they should lock him up for murdering your pussy.

One of his hands rakes through your hair and pulls back your head while the other reaches around to your face and pinches your nose shut while covering your mouth. You can’t breath at all and begin to panic slightly but also whine into his hand because of how good he feels inside you.

you feel that tightness in the pit of your stomach and know that you’re close, you try and moan into his hand, shaking your head a little from side to side to try and get him off your face but it’t to no avail. So you use your hands but he simply lets go of your hair and pins your arms behind your back. You still can’t breath and now you’re so close to cumming and black dots and filtering in and out of your vision, you think you might be close to passing out.

Finally that knot in your stomach releases and your orgasm washing over you, you practically scream into his hand before he lets go and you fall to the floor, gasping for air.

*Just hold me through these lonely nights We'll have a blue wedding tonight*

He hasn’t cum yet so he stands over you, stroking his dick, smirking at what he did to you. If it weren’t for the afterglow of your orgasm, you’d be furious and give him a peace of your mind but you were still desperately trying to catch your breath.

Mikey throws his head back before cumming on you, some of the milky fluid getting in your hair and you lift your hand up to shield your face from it. Was this to insult you? Or was it still part of the whole ‘you’re a slut’ role play thing because you couldn’t tell anymore.

He tucks himself back into his finely tailored trousers and walks across the room to put on his shirt and gather his blazer from the chair you threw it on earlier. He pulls a small rectangular card out of his pocket and throws it on the nightstand next to your phone which started playing the next song a while ago.

“You can spend the night here, if you want. Anything you get from the minibar will be charged to my card so don’t worry about it” He looks down at you, still on the floor, bright red in the face and still breathing rather heavily “G’night, sweetheart” he winks at you before heading to the door and closing it behind him.

You pull yourself up to your feet and head over to your phone, opening it and typing out a message to Peach.

[Hey girly, you won’t believe the night I just fucking had] the text reads.

You flop down on the bed and await her response. A shower could wait for 5 minutes while she replies.

Fin

[robotslenderman]

Eternal Hearts Liveblog, pt 1

Special thanks to @missn11​, who is probably mortified their name is associated with this travesty of a post, for letting me get my filthy little hands on this piece of embarrassing VTM history.

Okay guys, time to do the thing that’s gonna get me cancelled by fifteen-year-olds in the year 2032:

I’m gonna liveblog Eternal Hearts.

I once promised myself I would never make a rape joke, but today I break that vow because even the rape scenes are (sometimes) just that fucking ridiculous that I had to make fun of them.

This book is just.

Guys.

It’s GLORIOUS.

In the first twenty-four pages alone we have:

A guy is confronted by a locked door, so he whips his dick out. Everyone else acts like this is completely normal.

A guy meeting Final Death because a politician sat on his face. RIP in pieces Noah.

A mortal setting herself on fire, waving her arms around and running at a bunch of vampires yelling “DIE, YOU BASTARDS!”

A guy using his dick as a key ring. (Yeah, it’s the locked door guy.)

Lucita given the Hallowe’en treatment, in that she’s covered with sewage -- but sexy!

Daddy kink on top of the Washington monument.

Only some of the above makes sense in context. Some of it is as baffling in context as it is out of context.

This is the funniest shit I’ve ever read. Nobody told me about this when I went in holy shit.

Time to open this sucker up!

Liveblog under the cut!

DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT, THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING. IF YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT ETERNAL HEARTS IS, DO NOT READ THIS LIVEBLOG, HOLY SHIT.

You’re in for a ride, and it’s the edgiest, unsexiest ride ever.

First thing I notice: Eternal Hearts is, in fact, written by a woman. Which may mean that if she wanted to scare the shit out of her female readers, she'd know exactly how to do it.

gulp.

(^ I wrote that back when I thought I was gonna traumatise myself by reading this. OH BOY)

Next bit, the rape book is opened by the following foreword:

What follows is an essay that basically boils down to "no! :D but we wrote it anyway!”

Partway through that is this quote:

We’ll come back to that quote later. Several times, I predict.

Aaaand we open straight into a gang rape scene! Oh joy. And there’s church spires, to make it extra edgy.

Oh but then they give her the Kiss so she enjoys it! Yay!

Oh.

She's a shovelhead.

They never mentioned THIS part of the Sabbat recruitment process.

and now she's underground and buried and being raped again? Somehow. Like somebody’s got their entire goddamn fist in there. While under six feet of dirt. I know someone’s got their entire damn fist in there because the Shovelhead’s thinking about how somebody got their entire goddamn fist in there.

(Yeah this is the bit I had to make jokes about because it was that fucking ridiculous. I started this out trying to be respectful. I failed. Miserably. I just can’t fucking do it this is too -- too -- Eternal Hearts-y.)

Like the author just turned to the other people in the credits page and pitched this idea: “guys. Hear me out. What do you think is scarier than being raped or being buried alive?”

“idk what?”

“being raped after being buried alive!”

“That’s a GREAT idea!”

(”Lucy didn’t even break the rules as much as I was willing to let her” Remember that quote? Thank god for that.)

Jean - for that is our poor Shovelhead's name, RIP - seems only mildly concerned about the rape. and the fact it’s still happening.

Like yeah, serious talk, putting my respectful hat on: to be fair, everyone responds to trauma differently. You know how I respond to trauma? I make jokes about it. Like I’m the kind of person to say “what are you gonna do, STAB ME?” for the lols when a guy is pointing a knife at me.

Okay, respectful hat back off, back to edgy humour.

Anyway she’s being fisted by somebody while also six feet underground, somehow, and daydreaming about the guy she’s stalking and about how she’s in love with him, hmm, maybe he had something to do with it? She’s not entirely sure.

(ETA: So an anonymous Discord friend was reading my liveblog and said this:

and I laughed so hard my dog actually pawed at me because she was worried.

Yeah, I’m going to hell, but at least I know I’m taking you guys with me.)

Anyway she starts digging her way out, and I guess she’s still being fisted while she’s digging her way out???? IDK they didn’t say it stopped??? Like that’s gotta make digging your way out difficult.

And then cut to Lucita!

Walking past a protest outside a sex shop. There’s a bunch of Christian protestors outside because they’re bored or something. We get straight back into rapiness with a Dominate:

Damn Lucita, if jizzing your own brains isn't the hottest image you can give a guy, I don't know how what is.

Lucita decides to snack instead of raping him, but does sexually assault him by taking his dick from his pants and leaving it in his hand when he’s unconscious.

Lucita walks into a meeting at a brothel. There are “slaves”. I’m not sure if they’re sex slaves or if they’re actually ghouls, but then again, this is Eternal Hearts so probably both.

She expects Pieterzoon to be there, but he's not. When the others start talking like he's missing, she is completely unconcerned and immediately starts talking as if she knows he's missing.

They move on. Pieterzoon has paid Lucita to assassinate Marcus Vitel. Good fucking luck with that one. Everyone at the meeting is trying to stop her from doing it. Lucita’s like “tough shit he’s already paid me bitch is gonna die”.

Also the Brujah woman present is apparently this scene’s titillation or something because the author loves to remind us about how tight her clothes are and how she's "seductively cuddling" people.

no fucking kidding

I like how the VTM universe goes out of its way to avoid using the terms “son” and “daughter” to avoid the Unfortunate Implications when people inevitably start fucking their Sires

and the author’s like "nah fuck that let’s daddy kink it up.”

Oh and he does it ON TOP OF THE WASHINGTON MONUMENT!! Like gang rape in a churchyard wasn’t edgy enough I guess.

the author can't go a paragraph without reminding us that sex exists and everyone is utterly sex crazed. The bit I blacked out above? That was Lucita daydreaming about hiring a prostitute. Like that’s not erotica, erotica is arousing, this is just voyeurism.

Lucita apparently hasn't yet noticed she's in a porno.

Somebody makes a joke about the Christian protestors gang raping the prostitutes outside. It’s a Ventrue. Of course it is.

Apparently the slave (I guess the word “ghoul” isn’t sexy enough) in the above screenshot is a fucking senator. Pun not intended. She soothes the cranky Brujah by suggesting they get somebody called Torres deported? I have no idea what that has to do with Lucita assassinating Marcus Vitel, but there's almost certainly going to be fucking involved.

(ETA 23/1/21 -- I regret to inform you all that there wasn’t “fucking” involved so much as gang rape. Never mind.)

Lucita and the Brujah guy almost start stabbing each other (so much for that soothing), but somebody has just set the brothel on fire so they have to GTFO.

The mortal senator can't quite fit inside the escape tunnel because her skirt is huge and keeping it on is apparently more important than not dying of smoke inhalation. But it’s okay, she manages it.

The skirt will be important later, unfortunately.

They come to a locked door in the passage. Oh no, whatever will they do?

Will they take a key out of their pocket and unlock it?

Nah, that’s too fucking sensible.

The Brujah that tried to punch Lucita whips out his dick.

Yes.

He actually fucking does that.

Weird flex, but okay.

(ETA 21/1/21 -- I just realised... what if it’s somebody ELSE’S penis he just whipped out? Like the thing was actually just chilling out and he pulls it out the way somebody else pulls out a cucumber. It’s not attached to his body, it’s just THERE?)

Everyone is completely unfazed by this. Both by the fact he whipped his dick out, and the fact he uses it as a fucking key ring.

Like. Is this a habit of his????? APPARENTLY IT IS.

(ETA: Anonymous Discord friend says:

SDFADLFJASDLFJASDF)

They end up in a sewer.

Garinson keeps a key to a sewer on his dick key ring.

(”Lucy didn’t even break the rules as much as I was willing to let her” yeah I just remembered another place more fitting for a sewer key)

THEN!!!

PLOT TWIST!!

The senator suddenly threatens everyone with a lighter!!

After the kindred are done laughing their ass off, she covers herself in whiskey, sets herself on fire and charges them.

I'm sorry but the way it's worded - pin wheeling, cringing - just makes this the funniest shit. It gets even funnier when you remember they’re knee-deep in water. Ever tried to run in water? It’s. not exactly easy. So presumably she’s tripping and stumbling the entire time and somehow still on fire as she does so.

A kindred tries to escape by clawing his way up the wall. He falls. The senator assassinates him by flinging her skirt over his head and sitting on his face. That part of her is also on fire. The skirt and her thighs are on fire.

And I guess they’re obviously not thigh-deep in water any more ‘cause the poor fuck doesn’t survive this.

what a way to fucking go: death by fire pussy.

Everyone panics, except Lucita, who's like "fuck this", cuts off her head, puts out the corpse, then, uh. uses it as a shield against the remaining flames. as you do.

(Between that and the above screenshot, there’s graphic descriptions of what, exactly, the fire is doing to the senator, and how said senator doesn’t give a flying fuck that fire is kinda hurty because she hates vampires that fucking much.)

Lucita meets a Nosferatu who offers to guide her from the sewers. On the next page, we have an illustration of Lucita, in sewage, looking up at the Nosferatu.

You couldn’t possibly make that picture sexy, could you?

Welp the artist went “Challenge accepted!”

So I wanted to show you guys the picture but I didn’t want to get too banned from Tumblr for an Eternal Hearts liveblog, so I went to my friends for help. One of them, @intimidatethevoid​, answered the call to arms:

Well.

This is awkward.

And so she bestowed upon me this glorious, but also cursed, image:

Yeah.

Her shirt’s somehow come off. And she isn’t wearing any knickers. Hence the Filthy Frank sticker.

And that’s gonna wrap up part 1 of my Eternal Hearts liveblog!

For more, like this post in secret shame so that none of your followers have to see it. To cancel me, send angry anon messages and death threats to my inbox.