#bastardizing OCs I find cool for free

[melodyschaos]

I Made Memes That Are Horribly Inaccurate (Probably)

Few things can compare to making memes of people's OCs with limited knowledge. So thus I do so:

My reasoning: 1) It just gave the vibes tbh. 2) Makin' their way downtown. Walkin' fast, butterfaces pass & they're home-bound 3) I was just briefly glancing so I could get a general overview and all I have to ask is "What is going on in the House of Commons?" (/pos b/c if your OCs aren't like that to outsiders then it's not fun) 4) They look pretty good for a dead bitch what can I say? 5) I know very little but I care the two of them and wish them good things @ballpitbee Hi I made these b/c I have Lord Mantis brain-rot and figured a post was better than clogging up an inbox sdkjghidsh

[moodymisty]

*awkward cough*

Mother, I crave luna wolves smut.

(this is my first time sending someone a request *internal panic* so bare with me)

(I'm thinking about the luna wolves bullying a surf fic that you did and now have brainrot.)

Like, imagine being my height (5'1) and having a big "mean" astartes fully aware that I'm sooo horny I'm loosing my mind.

And something about space marines that I can't stop thinking about is how they smell. Like the amount of testosterone.. Their sent has to be immensely horny inducing for a female.

Like- damn. Gigantic, absolutely shredded, smug ass smile and, teasing comments, absolute bastard of a super human. Asking you to do stuff that requires a lot more physical closeness than normal. Getting absolutely wrecked by the astartes smell(TM).

Eventually deciding to "help each other out" hot and heavy Make outs, grinding, humping, neck kisses and neck bites, the absolute WETness, SERIOUS man handling..

Jeez sorry I'm so down bad. Feel free to ignore me lol.

Big fan of your writing, hope you're doing well.

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: i am unhinged. Decided to make an actual Luna wolf oc for this one just cause. This idea is my fucking jam but for some reason I had a lot of trouble with this one, I think it's just because I'm getting a bit burnt out finishing the last of the requests. I hope you still enjoy.

Relationships: Artyom(Luna Wolf OC)/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mild NSFW, Grinding, Groping, Some mild manhandling

“Careful.”

The Thunderhawk shakes as the air cools during its ascent, and Artyom puts a hand on your shoulder to steady you in your seat. You don’t have any risk for falling over, but he still does it anyways. You look up at him and give him a small nod in thanks.

The other refugees however are largely fending for themselves, grouped close together and muttering amongst themselves.

You don’t mind not being part of it. You barely know any of them; And throughout this entire ordeal, you've found yourself growing closer to Artyom than any of them. He doesn’t seem to mind, and if anything, seems to find it amusing. During the few times you’d see him wander through the base he’d always make a point to call you out, say hello before returning to his duties.

The other refugees found it odd. While Astartes are respected and admired, being in their attention isn’t seen as the most positive. They are mercurial and unpredictable on the best of days, intimating masses of muscle that can kill with ease; And enjoy doing so.

Artyom is an oddity among the Luna Wolves, to enjoy poking at a human. Even if it's only one, and he regains his stoic, almost sleepy expression when barking orders at any of the others.

Once the Thunderhawk docks into the landing bay of the battlebarge, everyone makes their way off. The Astartes leave silently other than an apothecary who ushers the refugees along to where they’ll stay before being placed. More than likely the first Imperium port they come across, where they'll become the Imperium Guard's logistical problem.

You move to follow along with them, assuming that will be your place, but Artyom grabs you before you have the chance. His hand claps your shoulder, nearly painfully heavy from the size and weight of his gauntlet.

“Come with me instead.”

You look up at him before following closely, halls rapidly becoming filled with only Astartes. They all look curiously at you, as if wondering what a baseline human is doing in this area. Clearly they're not used to them being here. You continue following Artyom anyways however and try to ignore the questioning gazes, until he pulls you inside a room filled with armoring equipment.

“Here. Hold this while I remove my armor.” He hands you his knife, while his bolter and rifle go on a rack made specifically for them. The knife clearly has more sentimental value, you assume.

“Why did you have me follow you?”

You say, holding the knife tight as machines slowly peel away plate after plate of ceramite. It's such an odd thing to see, watching him go slowly from a near machine in massive armor to something you would consider more human; Even if still very different.

“Those refugees are going into the serfs quarters until we pass by a human settled world. It will be a tight fit.”

The material of his black skinsuit is revealed bit by bit, until no armor remains. Your hands tighten around the handle of the large knife. The suit leaves nothing to the imagination as the name implies, stretching over his entire body other than his upper neck and face, and interface ports.

“So I won’t stay down there? Where will I sleep then?” You feel disrespectful for asking, you should be thankful his legion even bother to saved you. Artyom however seems to find no intentional disrespect, or at least doesn't point any out.

“You can stay in my quarters. Unless you would prefer the serfs.”

Slowly he starts to peel away his black skinsuit, revealing bare skin. The farther down it peels away- neck, collar bone, chest, hips- the farther down it drops the more you force your eyes to remain at strictly shoulder height and higher.

Once everything is removed, he pushes his shoulder blades together and they let out a crack, flexing his shoulders and chest. You swallow a knot in your throat, the knife being strangled in your hands.

“Hmm?”

Artyom hums, grabbing one of the sets of trousers and pulling them on. You shake your head and try to dispel thoughts you are sure would get you into an unspeakable amount of trouble away.

“Oh, nothing. I'm sorry.”

Now dressed you can worry less about your eyes wandering to places they shouldn't, but not completely; the waistline of his trousers exposing a good portion of his hips and lower stomach. You hope he didn't catch the way your eyes lingered on the v of his hips for a bit longer than they should have.

He walks closer, closer enough that you have to take a step back. He gives his neck a crack, and for a moment you wonder if the armor is that intensive on them; In it they never seem to mind, almost as if it's a second skin.

“Are you sure? Your heart is loud.”

He can hear it? You're throat tightens; You wonder what else he can hear. Can he hear your ragged breathing? The way your blood is thumping in your ears and downward between your legs.

“Oh, I just… A lot has happened. It's a lot to think about.” Artyom gives a gentle, sleepy smirk, and puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Do not worry. You are safe with me.”

Perhaps from physical dangers; but your mind is now a battleground between common sense and base instinct.

The way his shoulders make your body seem so frail, towering over you. The way his muscles stretch across his neck, his collarbone, the smooth taughtness of his stomach drifting into the v of his hips.

And perhaps he may not smell the nicest in first impression, there’s something underneath it that is oddly, not terrible. You find yourself swallowing a large knot in your throat as he looks down at you, his smirk shifting the taught skin of his facial scars. You skin feel like it's on fire, like you're boiling from the outside in, and you swear you've never felt this aroused in your entire life. The way you feel like your cunt has an actual heartbeat.

"You must still be quite unsettled, if your heart is still racing."

He steps closer, putting a hand on your shoulder; Though it's large enough that it pushes against the crook of your neck. He squeezes it just a bit, and you try to resist letting out an audible hitch in your breath.

"I'm fine, really. I thank you for your concern, though. It means a lot coming from you."

You feel like you're beginning to sweat, and your lower body feels tight and hot. You squeeze your thighs together subtly and instantly you can tell you're getting wet.

Artyom takes a step closer, and you didn't realize how close you were to the wall until your back presses against it and you're near entirely consumed in shadow. The armoring room is quite small, you can only assume because the battlebarge lacks the size of their larger ships.

"You are not a good liar," He says, his smile changing form. "I can smell you."

His hand moves from your shoulder to around your waist, easily able to cover a significant portion with how large it is.

"It took me a bit, to realize what that smell was whenever you were around me."

You don't suppose that's surprising; Being an astartes is surely a secluded fate, without much room for fraternizing. And the smell of someone being so aroused is probably unique and quite subtle, not an easily explainable thing.

He pulls your body forcing you to arch your back towards him, shoulders still against the wall. Your hands press against his body, and you can feel the overwhelming stuffy heat of his skin. He's nearly naked with only his trousers, yet he still feels like he has the body heat of a man who's just run for miles and miles.

His other hand also wraps around your waist, and you feel his fingers pushing up against the bottom of your chest.

It's bit awkward for him to lean down closer to you with his size, but it's easier when he forces his knee between your legs, rising you to your tiptoes. The feeling sends jolts of sensation right up your spine, and your cunt throbs. It's a intentional, painful act to not grind yourself against his thigh like you were desperate, no matter how in reality it was true.

"You're so small," He jokes, shadowing you. "Do you think you could even help me remove and put on my armor with those little hands of yours?"

His lips ghost over yours, the bow of his lip brushing against yours as he teases you. You can't help the way your hips twitch forward slightly, ever so subtly grinding against him as he moves in to kiss you. During so, his hands slide down from your waist to your hips, and forces you to push down on his thigh harder, as well as raising his knee up against the wall just a bit more to force your weight even more on him. His leg is still barely bent however; He could easily take your feet all the way off the ground if he wanted.

His hands grip your hips tightly and force you to grind against his thigh, causing you to moan and whimper. Your hands grip his own body weakly, leaning forward into him and pressing your face into his collarbone. You can feel the heat and hardness of his cock against your leg, and your cunt keeps tensing around a disappointing emptiness at the thought.

You want it so unbelievably bad. You would do just about anything for it. You don't care who hears or who sees, you just want him inside of you and you'll be more than willing to beg and plead and cry for it.

His lips pull away from yours, lips swollen and well kissed. You feel your spit mixed with your own against them.

"Be my personal serf. It'll be a far better life than whatever a refugee's will be, where ever you and your fellow humans end up."

You can't deny what he says is true. But the lust-driven cloud fogging your mind is more than a significant contributor to the 'yes' that you utter to him. It makes his smirk wider, and his eyes darker.

"Would I, still stay in your quarters?" His hands still grip your hips tightly as you speak breathlessly, trying to whimper and grind yourself against him further.

"There's serf's quarters right next my own I can requisition just for you." His lips move from your mouth to your neck, pressing against the pulse point just below your right ear.

"But if you'd rather stay in my own, I won't complain."

[karlachismylife]

Juju's Masterlist

god i love how they look at each other when i place pictures like this

Figured this might be needed! As I am planning to spam-reblog so much cool stuff...

Hi, I'm Juju (or Juju Starr more formally XD), 22 yo and in this blog I primarly write things on the rarepair I came up with, Karlach (Baldur's Gate 3) x Soap (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare, reboot trilogy by default).

However, I also write things in both these fandoms with other characters, different ships (including other ships with Karlach and Soap), poly ships, x reader and x OC. There are NSFW ones and I will be checking every blog interacting with them, so minors and ageless blogs DNI, please.

Requests are open! Send in anything <3

*also I have no idea if I'm using the word blurb right, feel free to correct!

The masterlist itself is under the cut!

First mention of Karlach x Soap (a little overview of the ship dynamic)

I Might Have A Type (a post mentioning how the ship was born, trust me, there's concrete evidence of them being compatible)

All things Karlach x Soap (thoughts, fics, little ideas and concepts - simply sorted by hashtag)

Karlach x Soap fics

Morning Routine (blurb, fluff, 238 words) - Karlach, Soap and shaving

Birds of a Feather (blurb, fluff, 271 words) - Karlach and her dynamic with task force 141

They're Horny (blurb, smutty (NSFW), 228 words) - Karlach is horny and Soap is horny, but there's a difference (there's not)

Explosive Love (blurb, fluff, 105 words) - what it's like when you have a demolitions expert and a walking bomb on your team

Not Fair (blurb, angst, 457 words) - Soap is there when Karlach breaks down after the death of a certain bastard

Restless Fingers (blurb, fluff, 130 words) - one word: fidgeting

Scar Twinsies (blurb, fluff, 245 words) - surviving Hell and blowing shit up leaves similar marks

Practice Makes Perfect (drabble, fluff, 932 words) - something from Soap's weaponry catches Karlach's eye and he does not miss an opportunity for a date

Tactic Tactile Affections (headcanons, fluff, 764 words) - it's not just about kissing and fucking!

Baby Fever (blurb, fluff, 260 words) - can you imagine their babies tho (C)

Is It Visual Stimming or Is He A Romantic? (drabble, fluff, 945 words) - something about smouldering coal is just so mesmerizing... what are you looking at, Johnny?

Hey Skullboy (blurb, fluff w/angst, 467 words) - Karlach shares with Ghost not only his sergeant, but also trauma

Solar Eclipse mini-series (2 parts)

Total Eclipse of the Heart (drabble, fluff w/angst, 1286 words) - dog tags can be so many things, learns Karlach when she spots an unfamilar piece of jewelry among other alien things Soap brought from his world (part 1) Worshipping the Sun (drabble, fluffy smut (NSFW), 4201 words) - solar eclipse is beautiful, thinks Johnny when he looks at his circular dogtags blocking out the glowing light of Karlach's engine. He wouldn't mind seeing a thousand of those as soon as he gets a chance to make the little steel plates bounce on her chest (part 2)

Introductions (blurb, fluff, modern!AU, 105 words) - what Soap would call Karlach in modern!AU

Two of Us Wearing Raincoats (headcanons, fluff, partially suggestive, partially modern!AU, 2855 words) - requested domestic fluff, a lot of it!

Love Texting (blurb, fluff, modern!AU, 96 words) - what their texting looks like (Karlach is illiterate, Soap is Soap)

(Be)longing (blurb, suggestive fluff, 190 words) - Johnny and collars, am I right?

Bath Time (blurb, fluff, 246 words) - sharing a bath to save time

Karlach x Ghoap (Ghost x Soap) fics

Package Deal (blurb, fluff, 135 words) - tame one golden retriever, get one free

None Are Free Until (blurb/idea, angst w/fluff, modern!AU, 558 words) - anarchist!Karlach and everything complicated because of that

Call of Duty fics

Task Force 141 Ensemble

Their reaction to you playing datesim games (individual drabbles, fluff, partially suggestive (NSFW), no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 5073 words) - how do they find out and what do they think?

You're a character in their favourite game (individual blurbs, no use of Y/N reader-insert, 786 words) - how do they approach you in-game?

The Queen of the Clan || Series masterlist (hyena shapeshifter!AU, no use of Y/N fem!chubby!reader-insert) - when you decide to shake up your life a bit and partake in a trip with a documentary crew, you have no idea that meeting an unnaturally friendly hyena and have it mark your backpack would be only the beginning of weird things to come. Whatever will you do when a leaderless clan of four male hyenas chooses you as their matriarch?

Soap

Rushed (blurb, fluff, 78 words) - what some consider rushed, Johnny considers almost too late

Mohawk Appreciation Time (blurb, fluff, mentioned Karlach x Soap but Soap-centred, 249 words) - I do not condone calling his mohawk stupid unless it's fully affectionate!

Emotional Support Dog (drabble, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 1132 words) - when you're struggling with work-related stress, Johnny's there for support

I'm In Love 100 Times (drabble, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 485 words) - when you look at Soap, you almost choke on your love for him, but he's there to rescue

Ghost

Now They Ain't Got a Prayer (drabble, hurt/comfort, no use of Y/N gn!military reader-insert, 1479 words) - after a mission goes not like planned, there's a heavy feeling in the air, but there's something even heavier in your chest

Ghoap (Ghost x Soap)

Help! (blurb, fluff, 213 words) - thoughts on Simon Riley and The Beatles

Baldur's Gate fics

Dammon

Forged Under the Stars (drabble, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 1157 words) - at the Tiefling Party Dammon comes over to sit with you under the stars

will be re-working this thing

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

My OCs Majour Historical Figures

Part 3 of my world building posts! I'm gonna arrange these guys in order of their importance to the Plot™, and how much I dote on them.

So, without further ado,

The Godhuntress, Ina

She's literally my PFP :)

Lived: 2000-4050AC

Height: 3.5m (11'6 for Americans)

Pronouns: She/Her

Race: Angel of Nature (her halo is just flowers)

Was completely loyal to the Gods until her husband got killed for abandoning his post to pluck some flowers for her

Then she went completely apeshit and genocided the gods

Possessed a secret Voidic ritual to drain magic from others, which gave her the power to defeat the Gods

Killed her daughter, Isobel, in a fit of rage after Iz tried to stop her from killing the last goddess, the Goddess of Dreams, who was just a child

Massacred the Fae, elves, and forest spirits

Jumped into the Void out of grief when she realised she had become a monster like the gods (see it here)

Speaks like she came out of the bible

Basically the biggest deity in modern Triworld

Been living rent free in my head since I was 6

2. The Spirit Emperor, Hans-el

Obsessive midgeted psycho

Lived: 3595- AC

Height: 130cm/4'3 (145/4'9 in his high shoes)

Pronouns: He/Him (caps included)

Race: Forest Spirit

Has an everlasting grudge against Ina for killing his best friend, the Goddess of Dreams, in front of him

Knows her power ritual because he saw her do it, and used it to gain enough power to become Emperor for vengeance

After she died, he set all the souls of the gods free for the heck of it

Like Ina, is power-corrupt and evil. Unlike her, he doesn't give a shit about it

Bastard has his little fingers in every bit of the Plot™

No seriously, if the story's set after Ina, it's events are probably his fault

You'll find him cameoing as either Hans or just 'the spirit'

Will murder you if you call him short (he is, even by spirit standards)

Inexplicably in love with Hash

3. Hash Brown

Nobody knows her real name

Lived: 1998- AC

Height: ? (145/4'9 in his favourite form)

Pronouns: she/he (and never it)

Race: Shapeshifter

Possibly the oldest being alive in Modern Triworld, not that she'd let anyone know it

Wears an elf body because that's what she pretended to be during the Runic Wars

Goes by Hash Brown because the Lich-Queen said it would be cool, and he's possibly forgotten his own name by this point

Actually pretty smart but pretends to be a ditz

Pathological trickster who feels bad getting people in trouble

Moved into Hans' castle one day, became his partner in crime (and everything else) and never left

Feels bad for deserting his people during the Ruinic War (cos he couldn't accept genociding humanity) and as such looks after the remaining shapeshifters

Drinking buddies with the Luxatian Exorcists, who all actually believe she's an elf

Fakes an incredibly strong Paliodaen accent

Secretly, deep within his heart, a good person

4. The Lich-Queen, Iraela Foundling

Cracker of bad quips

Lived: 2800-4003

Height: 165cm/5'5

Race: Human turned Lich

Found in the End of the World along with her sister, Ramaeria, and brought into Ceredellian Royal society

She showed no powers so she stayed hidden away while her sister, an Oracle, danced with nobles

Met and fell in love with a minor duke

When she discovered she was a necromancer of epic proportions, she tore Ceredell apart and remade it into the Deadlands

Has a god-awful inferiority complex and deep rooted jealousy

Still somehow trying to live up to her dead sister's image

Cannot stop cracking jokes at the worst possible timing

Thought it was funny to tell a young shifter to name himself Hashbrown

Main proponent of the Ruinic War, because she hates humanity (she doesn't want to be reminded that she was one)

Bonus: Luna Iverius Delacroix, Mind-mage

Absolute tech boomer

Age: 6012-

Height: 150cm

Race: Human

Actually pretty important to the Plot™

Main character syndrome in every meaning of the word

Make-up fiend

Ran away from home at age 11 and made herself a cult of personality

Cannot drive, cook, use a phone or take care of herself

Insanely lazy, but skilled enough at magic to make up for it

Does not know the meaning of playing fair

Neither booksmart nor streetsmart, but a secret third option (not smart)

By the way, all the images were made on picrew.me ! Go check it out, it's super fun to play with!

[elite-amarys]

RE your last post, can you give a shout out to some of the smaller BBA OCs? 🥺 I'm too shy to ask off anon tho

//OOC omg yeah! Go follow all these OCs they are all wonderful amazing. Also anyone not here please feel free to reblog this post/reply so that people can browse the notes.

Kai @/bee-bee-kyuu - Amarys' bestie, just went through SOME SHIT and is going through a really well done self-discovery journey

Boo @/boo-berry-gremlin - absolutely adorable feral child who loves stickers. I love Boo.

Tenma @/tenmadontyouknow - Tenma/Tenma's mod is SO GOOD at replying in a way that makes it easy to keep conversations going. Always tons of energy and something interesting for your character to bounce off

Atlas @/psn-stalling - little bitch /affectionate

Wyrm @/mimikyuchu030 - Disgusting fae bastard. I love Wyrm OOC. IC Amarys hates this bitch sm

Coppelia @/starlightandspirits - absolute sweetheart who is also unintentionally a lil spooky at times. Big fan of coppie

Maple @/autumn-in-the-academy - Girl who just can't stop overworking herself and getting sad about it. Has an adorable bulbasaur.

Tsumaranai @/former-anon-tsumaranai - brand spanking new blog based off of one of the VERY funny candidates from the election event. Will definitely rely on interaction, so please definitely check them out!!

All them guys @/fruitbasket-gossip - multi muse AND multi mod which I think is cool. Half of the muses are in Naranja-Uva so there's some Paldean pull as well!

Hesper @/bbharmacist - The cool goth school nurse that came in to replace the absolute stinker of an NPC that was there before

Derrick @/actually-a-dondozo - VGC obsessed student who has very bad but very funny timing

Drea @/in-a-stardust-daydream - Recent return student who had to take a leave of absence. Very intense but extremely sweet and polite about battling.

Gill @/blueberry-gills - relative of Snacksworth AND Jimmy Buffet, very sweet alcremie-obsessed ball of anxiety.

There are literally SO many more, and a couple didn't make it onto the list for literally no other reason than I could not remember the exact blog URL and was having trouble finding it (CORA GET IN THE NOTES I'M SORRY). Check all of these guys out, and get in the notes so that people can browse!! Not a single one of these blogs would turn down interaction, unless it violated a rule in the pinned (none of which are much beyond 'don't be inappropriate and maybe no legendaries')

[lixenn]

🖤 BLACK HEART  ,  🎮 VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER  *&🤔 THINKING FACE , for dave!

Dave is getting all the love 💕✨Thanks for the ask Mimi!!

(Dave: See Chief, I'm the favourite! Everybody adoooores me~

Chief: And I should care about that why? Less whoring for attention and more getting back to work, menace. These budget reports won't write themselves.

Dave, pouting: Chief is such a meanie, a buzzkill, a real butthead.

Chief, staring blankly at the wall: I'm surrounded by children.

Dave, stomping his foot: A Butthead!!)

🖤 BLACK HEART — has your oc killed or seriously wounded anyone before? have they broken someone's heart and/or broken someone's trust?

Dave's past is shrouded in darkness and pain, so yes he has killed but only once and he certainly hurt his fair share of people. The streets aren't kind to you, especially when you are a colourful troublemaker who can't keep his nose out of other people's business.

He has broken a couple hearts because Dave likes sex, he sleeps around but he isn't really interested in a romantic relationship and sometimes he fails at communicating that which leaves behind tears and distress. As for trust: Yes, he breaks that too (Dave just likes wrecking shit apparently lol) in this case it's intentional, because Dave has a past as a conman and even now he tricks people into trusting him so he can get information which he will use for his own gain.

🎮 VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER — what are three of your oc's favorite hobbies?

Pranking

While this can't really be considered a hobby and more of a lifestyle Dave is a prankster at heart and spends most of his free time (and work time let's be real here) trolling people and is just a general pain in the behind. It started off as call for attention, turned into a coping mechanism and now it's just part of his personality lol.

Drawing

Dave likes to doodle. Be it on boring paperwork, his arms, the desk, nothing is save from Dave's pen. When he finds time he will even get out the watercolours and paint. He mostly does landscapes but sometimes he dips into portraits when someone captures his attention. He actually painted Vlasta several times when they were in full scary make up because he finds the general vibe of their look super cool. (He loves it especially when it's colourful).

People watching and gossip

Dave is a people person. He likes being surrounded by them, he likes figuring out how they tick, what makes them laugh, what makes them cry and what would make them break. So, he talks and observes and talks some more. Collecting, categorizing and even hoarding information is another one of Dave's coping mechanisms. But also: he just a damn noisy bastard 🤣

🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms?

You could hold a gun to Dave's head and order him to hold still, he would still wiggle and squirm, because he's incapable of not moving. He talks with his hands, spins his pen, taps his foot. Also, he talks fast and informal, includes slang in his speech.

A smile is a permanent fixture on his face and laughing comes easy to him. He will smile and joke and hide but when he's reallly truly serious his mask drops and people see the cold calculation underneath.

OC details

[christlois]

//I just wanted to say, back in my Black Butler days (Which was WAY back like 2009-2019) I used to be a HUGE fan of Ash/Angela in particular, they were my first muse and for that, they still hold an EXTREMELY special place in my heart and sometimes I honestly kinda wanna go back to writing them lol //They were my favourite chracter, and Alois is/was a close second, I wrote cringey fanfic, had based and created a whole OC off a kinda "Combination" of them who I still use today, and also RPed him for a time back on a few ancient forums and Google+ when that was a thing still (I'm ancient lmao) //but overall the former ESPECIALLY barely had ever gotten any content - especially good, genuine content made from love rather than half spite "Look at this asshole" - and putting aside my surprise that the Black Butler fandom is still alive and kicking, i just stumbled across your blog and while I'm not sure entirely what Christlois is about (Please do feel free to give an explanation!) I just wanna say, a combination of my favourite things from my Black Butler days: Being Ash/Angela, Alois, THAT SEASON ONE AND TWO GET SOME ATTENTION, SERIOUSLY THEYRE STILL SO FUCKING GOOD!!!! ill be honest the direction it took with season three onwards kinda was a part of why i fell out of love with the series and just the existence of catholicism/priest aesthetics as a whole lmao) //For the longest time the memory of the Black Butler fandom had left a VERY bitter taste in my mouth since being around in it's heyday as an Ash/Angela RPer was certainly an experience lol, but just looking through your blog, though I don't exactly know what it's about, is such a sweet taste of nostalgia that while I don't exactly find myself missing the community, I miss the characters and story established by the first two seasons greatly. :,) It's kinda odd to say but I was almost certain that Ash/Angela would just fade into obscurity with offhand mentions at best, no one to love and care for them, and so glad to see that someone is caring for them where I couldn't anymore! //While I still find myself coming back to the priestisms (Leonard's 1.3 verse.... *Cough*) after all these years, it's honestly been a nice reminder on just how much these Ash/Angela and Alois have impacted my writing, both in muse writing and creative! Either way, thank you so much for your care put into this and please pardon the long message sfkdhbfkhkdfh

HI HELLO THIS IS SO SWEET OH MY GOD!!!

Where do I even begin? First of all THANK YOU!! I love these angels so bad, and YOU understand. They're a fascinating evil and a very interesting character concept. It's really cool that you roleplayed with them and I bet you had a ton of interesting headcanons and developments, more so than we got from the show! Because the thing is there is not a character as neglected by the fandom and the media as Ash and Angela. For their presence in Season 1, they are never talked about...

And that's not fair! They're so fascinating!! And thank you so much for the ask, genuinely, lenght doesn't bother me at all, and it's nice my mildly sacreligious blog brought some feeling of nostalgia.

ONTO THE INFO DUMPING! You're going to love this!

So Christlois is basically the universe of one specific fic, that being this one , written by me and co-written by @eemoo1o . It's basically a story about Alois turning his back on Claude and instead being swayed to Ash's side, becoming Ash's little puppet as opposed to Queen Victoria. It's mythological, theological, philosophical, and also really really disturbing JFJKSDF there's sebaclaude, sebastian being ciel's weird dad, alois being in-characteredly toyed with (poor boy), and ashgela being a total bastard.

here are some other goodies you might have seen, some animatics about it: part 1, part 2, and an anime opening, and an original song piece (I know...I'm very intense about this hgshdf).

Oh, and this! its unrelated but also I think you'd enjoy it!!:

[thrawns-backrest]

Writer Q&A Game

ooh I like this one very much! thank you @vibratingbonesbis!

1. What motivates you to write?

usually reading someone else's work or discussing characters and plots with other people. so it's either 'this is so cool, I want to write like this!' or 'this is so cool, I want to write it!'

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

never finished it but I had a oneshot idea about crosshair and I lowkey really like this line

Sometimes we find the strength to survive in things that have nothing to do with survival.

3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

my current favorite child is my chiss son Rhiuh'vek. seemingly poised and has his shit together on the surface but is actually a petty little bastard

4. What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

those little moments when I reach for my phone because a snippet flows really well in my head and I've been able to hold on to it long enough to type it out

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

dialogue, hands down. most of my fic notes are dialogue because it comes most naturally to me and I crank it out before anything else

6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

going through the writing tag and seeing everyone complain about how hard writing is. it's nice to know you're not the only one writhing in agony (pun intended) and complaining about it is even better

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

hemingwayapp.com! my goal is to write more concise and this is a huge help. even if you aren't necessarily aiming for a concise style, it's really good at highlighting all kinds of stuff like sentence length, adverbs, alternatives, etc.

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

chiss clothing oh my god, I could write a whole encyclopaedia at this point but I need to illustrate it and that'll take ages. I'm a fashion history nerd and the chiss are pretty much free real estate so my brain just goes brrr

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

find an author or style you want to emulate and read a bit of that before writing. it rewires your brain to think in that same style and the words come out much more easily after

10. Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters

@random-user753 and @russiandeathcup have been so consistently supportive and honestly this blog wouldn't the same without you guys 😘

[spaghett-onaplate]

"one of these" im feeling chatty, and also we're new mutuals, so let's do all those little ask things!

what's your favorite animal? :3c

i followed you cause i noticed you interacting with Abram and i was like "oh this person seems fun" and i rotated the thought of followin for... several weeks? and then was like "yea let's goooo"

i am currently thinking about my OC Procyon <3

idk if this is considered a compliment but your reactions to my info dumps fill me with glee (๑˃ᴗ˂)

ocean or outer space?

i am debating if i should self reblog my original works on a more frequent basis cause sometimes folks don't realize i post my stuff and they wanna read it... thoughts?

everything about me is an open secret alxhskdbsk

currently im associating you with yr and slowly building connections to Australia, and i have a few Australia related info dumps but the thing about that is ya gotta not dump them all at once... so know that i am chilling for opportunities

okie this is a long ask, oop;;

Hoohoohoo this is a very welcome long ask >:))

Favourite animal: I don't really have a specific favourite animal anymore tbh, but I do particularly like fish (as a general thing, but I'm thinking of comet goldfish - i very much hope to get some when I get a job :>), giraffes, foxes, cats, birds (as a very general thing again, but noisy miners stand out to me. they are little bastard bullies that annoy every other bird and animal but their little FACES. their faces you do not understand they are so adorable. there are some nesting on our side garden thing and so one day one kept repeatedly banging headfirst into the window,, we thought it was at my cat first. she was loving the bird show). I used to loveee foxes so much, they were my absolute favourite animal for ages!!

Why you followed me: Oho yes that's cool!! I saw you and Abram interact a few times so I assumed that was our mutual.. mutual?? connection?? well anyway that is very nice :>>

Currently thinking about: oo i like the name Procyon!! Is it pronounced prock-yon or does the "cy" blend together like in cyan, to make pro-syon? Or another way?? Either way very cool <33

Compliment: hoohoo well I take any positive perceptions of myself as compliments, and I'm glad that you appreciate my appreciation :>> but yes your tags are always so interesting to read!! Either cool info or a time that you got into a Situation

Ocean or outer space: Ocean, by far. In terms of exploration, it's right here!! May as well discover all the uncharted ocean before expanding to the rest of the solar system, no?? And for personal interest, I find the ocean and its life very cool. Immensely terrifying, especially considering the fact I can hardly swim, but very cool. (about the hardly swimming thing - I did take lessons, but they were more of an initial getting over the fear of water thing. Then I just never got the hang of freestyle at all, my body just doesn't stay up when I go to take a breath. Maybe that has to do with the burning-sinuses-and-hasn't-seen-the-surface-in-several-eons level of desperation I take a breath with, but I digress. So my swimming proficiency ends at doggy paddle. I tend to avoid water)

My thoughts: don't be scared to self-reblog if it's something you want other people to see!! And if there are people who want to see it, you could ask if they want to be tagged in future posts??

Open book: hah me too tbh, I am struck with the urge to share every single thing I have experienced in the face of crushing dread that it will be erased from my memory unless I do,, so I too have few secrets.

Associations: yr makes a lot of sense, and Australia! Yes! Well in case you haven't already figured it out, i am very much appreciative and interested in any and all of your info dumps, so feel free share to any time >:)) I could do with more information about Australia tbh, i feel that I take much of my surroundings for granted. But it's hard to romanticise familiar surroundings, right?? One random cool thing I like is that one of the peninsulas has Canadian rocks from before continental drift

The long ask was very much welcome, so here's my long post in response >:)) thank you for sending it in Milo!! Also fun fact, there is a very popular drink here called Milo. I'm pretty sure it's not a thing overseas?? But disregard this if it is lmfao. Well Milo is this chocolate powdery stuff that you add to milk and it tastes great, so I associate your name with that!

[fanfictionatic]

I’m sorry

This is probably going to make a lot of people upset, but I have pretty much been forced to use an AI for concept art of my OCs. I still want to commission someone eventually, but unfortunately after doing a lot of digging I just absolutely could not find anyone willing to do 3 character concept arts for a story as dark as mine and even if I could, I would probably have to scrap if I ever publish physical copies of my book since no one I have seen with slots open is willing to do art for that kind of thing at all (which would make me feel bad if I did publish my book as an actual book because if I like the artwork I would want to include it and give the person I commissioned a cut for every copy sold with the cool art). My plan is to use these images as place holders as long as Outcasts is completely free and there are no physical books/I find someone that I can actually commission for the art I need.

Money isn’t really the problem, I have a decent budget for this. But the fact is no human will draw my characters at the moment and stock images have their own issues so I have nowhere else to turn to. My first story was so unpleasing aesthetically with the stock image I picked that I’m worried it might sink any chance of people reading it if I continue like this. I have spent years writing up the plot and characters for this story and I can’t let it fail just because someone picked a more colorful header than me and the post with my story slipped through the cracks. I spent sooo long just working on writing that chapter alone and it was all for nothing because other horror writers can actually draw and I can’t because I am pretty much just a writer and nothing else. Having all of that work go to waste broke me after looking at the numbers my non original work gets, but no one is going to click on a boring grey post with a stuffy old stock image when there are pages and pages of OC sheets in the tags and incredible art that I could only ever dream of making.

I don’t blame people for not wanting to draw for something this dark, but at the same time I need to do something. I can’t just sit back and let my original work be hidden like this forever because I couldn’t make the posts visually appealing enough with what I have.

Let me make this clear, I do not like what the AI art industry is doing. I am not by any means a capitalist. I am aware that the AI can be used for theft and while I used to do a lot of AI art back when it was fun and memey, I have taken pretty much all of it down that I can remember posting. While I like the tech behind it, I am not going to dance around the fact that the creators of these programs are money hungry bastards that don’t care if actual art thieves use their programs and have no regard for the actual artists that got the programs there in the first place.

This is why I’m apologizing. Because I know that currently there is no ethical way to use these programs unless the people that make them start putting in safeguards against theft. This is a bad thing I am doing and I fully admit that. You are absolutely free to hate me and unfollow me for this because damn, I would probably do the same thing and I hate myself for doing this too.

But this story just means too much to me to let it die in a hole. At the end of the day I hate the people that ruined this tech for everyone because of capitalism and theft, but I do not hate them more than I love my characters and the world I built. They have kept me company when my real friends and family literally and figuratively left me to die. I feel like I owe it to them to do this so that their story can be shared the way it needs to be.

So I am sorry to everyone, but I am going to do what needs to be done for one of the few things that makes me want to live anymore even if it is a very horrible and ugly thing to do.

I really wish it hadn’t come to this. I don’t plan to make money off of these things and I can only hope to whatever god exists that someone comes along that I can commission eventually because I’m still not willing to publish a paper book with art made using programs run by these awful people. If I have to keep it free/virtual forever and never publish a physical book so be it. I wanted to eventually turn it into a physical book because physical books are another dying media that I enjoy that got ruined by tech, but I’m not in it for the money, I am in it to tell a story and to create my own art which is my writing.

I know I am still an absolutely awful person for doing this and refusing to make money off of this isn’t much of a protest, but it’s all I can really do when I’m backed into a corner like this.

Also I hope one day someone can train one of these programs and safeguard it the right way so that people like me aren’t strong armed into supporting people that hurt artists, because there are sadly probably more people like me out there with dark content that will run into the same problem. Artists shouldn’t be forced to draw things they are uncomfortable with and maybe in some brighter future, AI could be a more ethical substitute for that than it is now.

[poisonouswritings]

Ok ok here me out-

How about Last Legacy reverse au? Mc is originally from Astraea and is accidentally summoned to earth by Felix

Felix being his goth emo self messing around with forbidden items he bought from dark web (or toys r us your choice) he wanted to summon a demon or something but because he didn't read the instructions (as always) the spell went wrong and now mc is now on earth

He calls both Anisa and Sage and after a lot of explanation they decide that one of them has to take care of mc

Imagine Mc. This badass, cool, confident person who's an expert on both magic and fights acting like a child in a candy store and being in awe of everything on earth. And even with the tragic events they experienced because of the shadow bastard they're still able to find happiness in small things. They have an absolute heart made of gold and want to give the world to their Lis

Also MC's race change depending on their Lis (human with Felix, half Ilephta with Anisa, a full Ilephta "cat person" with sage)

Also imagine sage going into an existential crisis because mc got him questioning himself if he's a furry or not 😂😂

Fun fact no one asked for!! I have an au kinda like this for my OCs. Basically Felix wants to be a ghost hunter and convinces Sage and Anisa to explore an abandoned church with him. They unseal an ancient curse and end up freeing three demons. Also call it my Dragon Maid AU lol.

Reverse AU

In my headcanon, M3+MC all share an apartment/house together, with MC sleeping in their LI's room. Why? Because that's how I did it in my AU and I still think it's a cute idea

Felix (Human!MC)

Yes he got them from Toys R Us

Actually no, he got them from a deep web store but the sellers got them from Toys R Us and Anisa and Sage point this out but Felix refuses to listen

Anyways

He asks you to teach him magic!! You'll start rambling about an old spell that went wrong or whatever and he's just furiously scribbling notes trying to follow along

Confident and suave MC goes into a big ol library and is just zipping around trying to read everything while Felix starts checking shit out with his library cards

Felix! Takes you to a movie!!! Obviously a tragic romance and he's just holding your hand and sobbing while you're concerned because Felix How'd They Get All Those People On The Screen???

Feels really bad about stealing you from your world but at least he can teach you shit while you're here!

Takes you to crystal stores! Occult stores! Book stores!

Homemade silly little science projects! Like the kits you get at Toys R Us or Barnes and Nobles or whatever does the 'dish soap and pepper' trick and you're losing it

You try to court him like you would on Astraea and he's like 'what tf are you doing darling??' because Astraea prob has some weird rituals

He gets sparklers (fireworks) and you guys pretend they're magic wands and have battles

Probably followed a lot of fan theories and fanfics but didn't actually play the game

Anisa Anka (Half-ilephta!MC)

You have elected to be looked after by Anisa! She loves taking you out to get lunch. One of her big love languages.

So one of the streets near my house used to do a Wednesday Food Night thing during the summers. Food trucks lined the street for like,, a mile and all night people would walk up and down and try everything. Anyways I feel like Anisa would love taking you to do that!!!

Porhaps I'm projecting here but I feel like Anisa would be into learning about other cultures. If there's ever any cultural events nearby (like specials shows at museums or public festival gatherings or whatever) I think she'd definitely wanna take you along. I,, am thinking,,,, Oktoberfest specifically,,,,,, but I'm just drawing that from my own experiences

Takes you to the park,, exercises with you,,, likes when you see a squirrel and your pupils narrow as you suppress the urge to chase it,,,,

Likes hearing your stories about anything you wanna talk about it!! Fascinated by all of that.

Tries to help you cook Astraean stuff!! Snaccs!!!! She's really bad at it but if you direct her she could probably not set it on fire!!

Does take you to candy stores!! She likes candy and she likes the aesthetic.

If/when you have anxiety attacks or flashbacks or night terrors or whatever, she's the best at calming you down.

Feel like,, she uses YouTube to learn yoga and she makes you do it with her. Impressed by your flexibility.

Is probably the one who actually played the game.

Sage Lesath (Ilephta!MC)

He spends like,,, a month questioning if he's a furry. Eventually asks Tulsi. Tulsi says that according to anime rules it doesn't count, but in her opinion, it depends on whether or not he finds the animal attributes cute or hot. So basically he still has no idea if it counts or not. Depending on what type of ilephta you are he may get you a collar cause he's a perv

(initially) Takes you to parties! House parties, hookah lounges, karaoke bars, concerts, possibly a rave or two.

I think once he gets more comfortable and starts emotionally opening up a little more, I think he takes you to quieter places. Obviously Tulsi's job/apartment but also lookout points, maybe hiking, malls, the beach, etc. I think the more he loves you the more domestic the trips become.

Yes I'm stealing a scene from my own au because shut up So Imagine that,, you two have been getting closer and that admittedly scares him a little bit,,, he's just not used to it y'know,,,, so he goes out to the bar with the idea of distracting himself. But it doesn't really work because he can't stop thinking about you (maybe the bartender, who is used to seeing you come along, innocently asked about you and makes Sage realize just how much he's integrated you into his life but he never noticed it before because it just feels so natural),,,,, and then he gets home at like 4 in the morning and he's exhausted and he hears this familiar little purring-snore sound that instantly calms him down a little bit,,,, he comes over and gently wakes you up to ask you why you're sleeping on the couch and you kinda,, yawn and lean your head against his hand and he starts scratching behind your ears,, and you say that he normally gets home at a certain time and when he didn't this time you were a little worried,,,, you fall back asleep as he's still petting you and he's just internally screaming

This man 1000% gets a crate of various cat toys to fuck with you. Likes pointing the laser pointer at Anisa and Felix so you tackle them. 1000% tries giving you catnip to see what happens.

Once he finds out about all the battles you've been through, definitely tries to take care of you and pamper you a bit. Someone tries to shit talk you and even though you're more than capable of dealing with it he still jumps to your defense.

Didn't play the game but looked at a lot of fanart. (Solid chance he had r34 of you on his phone but after meeting you he felt like it was weird and deleted all of it)

[solivagant-muse]

Could you tell me more about your oc that you drew with Bo? She looks cool and I would love to know her story with her own final boy!

I'll try to keep it as short as I can asdfghjkl. Thank you so much for asking!!!

This started as a prompt from @/writing-prompt-s about a serial killer going on a blind date with a writer. And the writer getting ideas and writing their murder mysteries using the killer as inspo!

Iris (her fake name) and Finley (her final boy) were then made because of that! Except there is no romance, only angst, and betrayal! It also takes place in the late 90's/early 2000's.

She was the first slasher I made!

In short, she is a bastard, a completely horrible person in every sense of the word. Don't trust her, her compassion is fake. Her aloofness is fake, she is fake. You don't want to know her, you don't want to befriend her, don't help her. She is crazy strong, quick, and indestructible. Pretty much like any slasher pfft but I wanted a big and mean lady instead. The roles are reversed if you will.

She is on the run, the cops are trying to find her because of the ongoing disappearances and murders of quite a few men. They just don't know it's a woman (or even a man) due to the brutality of the kills, no one has been alive for long to give a long description of her.

But Finley does that exact same thing. He finds her in a bad state, and like one does with a stray, he takes her in. He has read the articles, investigated, and has become a little obsessed with the ongoing case because he is a freak like that. So when he finds its her, that same killer he read so much about, he is ecstatic. She fits everything he wants and she doesn't hide it.

Btw, here is Finley!

Her final boy, (he started as my version of Danny Johnson but I scraped that too.) He works at an office as an IT but his dream is to become a prolific horror/thriller/slasher writer. He writes a lot in his free time. He is also not a good person (sees the murders as just a way to get popular or as entertainment) but you can sympathize with him a bit once you know his background and why he is the way he is.

He starts seeing her as a project in a way and even starts giving her ideas on how to make her kills with more... "style." He thinks he is safe. A stray doesn't bite the hand that feeds it, right? But Iris isn't a stray. She is a wolf, and she isn't going to bite the hand, she is going to rip the entire arm right off.

Anyways, here are some light-hearted memey stuff.

TLDR: Finley (final boy) thinks this is build-a-killer workshop and thinks he can use Iris (slasher) to make his perfect horror book/movie/legend. He is sourly mistaken.

[wiypt-writes]

Murder, He Wrote

Epilogue

Summary: You and Ransom attend the launch of his book and the cover closes on your story.

Warnings: Bad language, Mature (NSFW, 18+) NON-CON situations, kidnap, violence. Blood. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER…READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED…YOU HAVE BEENWARNED.

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: The end! I can’t believe all this span from @jtargaryen18​’s Halloween Challenge last year. I hope you have enjoyed his as much as I have.

Word Count: 3.6k

READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK series so don’t @me if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18 get off my blog!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 7

 The town car and it's driver took you to whatever swanky hotel Ransom and his publishers had decided upon, you not caring the slightest inwardly, outwardly only half paying attention. You glanced out the window watching the lights of downtown pass by as your husband of merely three weeks held your hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb. 

It was a warm July evening, the two of you dressed to the nines in formal attire. Ransom had insisted the launch be an invite only, formal event. Therefore, he was dressed in a two-piece suit, black of course, with a crisp white button down, silken black tie, and you, you looked like an ice queen's slutty sister. The powder blue silk dress you wore tied together with thin straps on each shoulder, your feet already hurting in your nude six inch sandals. Your free hand tapped a neatly manicured finger over your clutch that matched your shoes. A delicate white gold and diamond tennis bracelet adorned your wrist whilst the necklace you'd been gifted at Christmas hung around your neck. You wore your hair the way he said he loved it, in a ponytail full of waves and wisps framing your face.

After the incident on Valentine’s Day, you’d spent another two weeks in the confines of the basement. All luxuries removed and you were used and abused in exactly the way you had been when Ransom had first taken you, until he’d once more sucked the fight out of you. Only this time you didn’t have the strength to find it again. 

You played the part you’d been cast in his sick little fantasy and became totally passive to his whims. You let him fuck you which, in all honesty, wasn’t an entirely unpleasant situation as he knew his way around your body and it felt good. You had given up denying it, and for the moments he was teasing those carnal reactions out of you, you escaped, let yourself imagine you were with someone who you wanted. And by keeping him sweet, you fooled him into thinking you were content. And things settled down, you had that halfway to normal life that you’d achieved before you discovered his manuscript.

But it was bullshit. A means to an end. And you deserved a fucking Oscar.

He’d had the audacity to propose to you, too. In a restaurant. Surrounded by people. He asked you the question, like you had a fucking choice.

Angry, desperate tears had filled your eyes as you’d simply gaped at him, tears the deluded cunt took for you being overwhelmed with happiness. With a smile he slipped the gaudily large diamond on your finger, sealing your fate.

It weighed as heavy on your hand as the grief for your lost life, and the despair at your situation did in your heart.

You’d had a small wedding. Attended simply by your parents and sister. He sent an invite to his mother and father but they didn’t show up. Your dad walked you down the aisle and as you walked towards the man you hated with every breath in your body, your father kissed your cheek and asked you if you were sure you wanted to do this. And no, of course you didn’t, but what could you do?

There was no way out. 

“You look as gorgeous tonight as you did on our wedding day.” Ransom’s voice slightly startled you and you turned to face him. 

You smiled at him, the smile you knew he wanted to see, as he placed a soft kiss to your cheek before doing the same to your hand, his lips ghosted over the top of the obscene rock and matching band on your finger which caught the lights of the city, sparkling with all the ferocity of a supernova.

Before you needed to reply with some half assed compliment back, the town car stopped as the driver got out and opened Ransom's door.

"Wait here," he instructed and walked around with the driver on the other side, escorting you out the minute your own door opened.

Flashbulbs fired off in your eyes, no doubt the press there for some absolutely ridiculous notion that this book was anything but its true nature of terror and disgust.

Ransom’s hand pressed into the base of your back as he guided you along in front of him, various members of the press calling his name, and you heard the excited shouts from some as they spotted the bands on both yours and Ransom’s hands, positively shrieking as they asked when you’d gotten married. 

The headlines flashed in your mind now, 'Grandson of the Great Harlan Thrombey Releases First Suspense Novel'. 'One of Boston's Most Notorious and Eligible Bachelors is Strictly Off The Market' . 'Trust Fund Playboy Sinks His Bunny'. 

It made you want to puke. 

In fact, as the press line faded and you stepped foot into the lobby, you swallowed back the bile forcing its way up. A tray with champagne flutes passed you by and you immediately snagged one.

When Ransom had been distracted for a brief moment, you quickly glanced around and swallowed back the entire flute of the bubbly drink. Delightfully enjoying the brief taste and quick head rush it gave you.

The further you walked into the event, his hand still against your bare back, the louder it grew and the more trays of champagne and appetizers were floating by.

As typical, the two of you were fashionably late so, you had little chance to take part in any nibble or further, a drink, because the supposed "man of the hour", more like terror of life, was due to give a speech.

His agent pulled the two of you aside and made mention that it was time for Ransom to greet his guests. He pressed a sickening sweet kiss to your lips and confidently took to the small podium atop a small stage nearby.

“First and foremost, thank you to everyone who came out tonight. But more importantly, thank you to my beautiful wife, without you Sweetheart, this wouldn't be possible.”

The smile he flashed you was loaded with meaning as the pair of you looked at one another, his eyes shining with the depraved private understanding you shared. 

And you hated him then just about as much as you ever had.

Excited muttering spread around the room as he had knowingly referred to you as his wife. It was the first time he’d announced your marriage to the world but, as he smiled and held his hands up, nodding smugly and confirming whatever people were asking him, you felt nothing but an overwhelming sense of nausea. To everyone else it was a sweet dedication, to you it was a sickening truth. This book was based on what he’d done to you. What he was saying was literal truth. 

And the fact that the people currently applauding whatever he had said would never realise the true nature of those words on the pages of his book made you want to vomit in your handbag.

Applause rang around the room and you realised everyone was turned in your direction. Drawing your shoulders back you stood tall and once more fixed that fake smile on your face before Ransom cleared his throat and began to speak again.

But you didn't listen, you drowned him out, the sound of his voice distant and murky like Charlie Brown's teacher. You allowed you mind to think of anything but the present, other than the fact that these people were in unknowing full support of the hell you'd been through the last nine months.

Eventually a loud, rapturous applause signalled the end of his speech and he stepped back, smiling and then turned to the man from his publishers who shook his hand furiously, before the pair of them posed for photos.

That was when he beckoned you to him, looking at you in such a way that made your skin crawl and your teeth seethe with each breath. This bastard expected a photo op from you above all this, commemorating this disaster.

On autopilot you headed towards him, indifference obedience now your specialty and his arm curled possessively round your waist, fingers splaying on your hip. You posed and smiled as the flashes went off, but as you stole a glance at the large, ornate clock on the wall, you suddenly felt your head beginning to swim.

Seeing a convenient way out of this bullshit, you made sure to falter just a little, placing your hand to your chest. It caused Ransom's attention to turn to you.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?"

“I’m feeling a little light headed and warm.” You looked up at him. “Could we maybe get some air?”

"Sure, yeah," he looked to his agent and they nodded towards a side door in the room.

His arm still round you, playing the doting husband, he led you towards it and opened it with a flourish, allowing you to step out in front of him. 

You emerged into the alley at the side of the building and took a huge gulp of air, steadying yourself.

"Y/N, what's wrong?"

You were warm, flushed, your skin tingling as the now cooling air hit your slightly damp skin, your nipples perking at the temperature change were visible through the silk dress, and you didn’t miss the heated glance he gave them as you spoke. "I, I don't know. I think it's all the commotion."

“You do look a little flushed.” His eyes moved back to yours and he studied you for a moment, his large hands gently cupping your face as he kissed your forehead before his lips pressed to yours. “Wanna take a walk?”

Despite the fact you really couldn’t walk far in the ridiculous shoes you were in, you nodded. Anything to avoid going back in there and listening to all those sycophants kissing his ass.

He took your hand and started walking slowly down the alley. You were mid-way down when a man jumped out from behind the dumpster. You screamed and instinctively Ransom jumped to the side, pulling you slightly behind him.

“Give me the money and the jewellery, no one gets hurt.” The man spoke gruffly and you felt Ransom draw himself up to his full height as he glared at the dirty, dishevelled man, disdain on his face.

“Eat shit.”

“Ransom, just... please give him what he wants.” Your voice trembled as your body shook, your right hand already removing the rings on your left.

“I’d listen to your pretty wife, if I were you.” The man spoke as he reached into his pocket and when he withdrew his hand you swallowed at the unmistakable flash of metal.

“Fuck, Ransom, he’s got a knife!” You clutched his arm. “Please just give it to him!”

"Fuck, no," he started reaching for his phone but the man lunged toward him.

In the melee that followed, you were thrown to the side, your rings clanging to the floor somewhere along with your clutch, your palms and knees scraping painfully on the floor. By the time you’d pushed yourself up, you saw the man scrambling to his feet, Ransom’s watch and wallet in his hand. He turned to look at you and you backed away, stumbling once more to the ground letting out a blood curdling scream as he advanced. He stopped, picked up your rings and your bag, before he turned, bolting up the alley and rounding the corner, disappearing from sight.

"Y/N," the croaking voice came from your husband as he staggered towards you, a deep red seeping through his white dress shirt, his one hand attempting to stave off the bleeding. The other, cradling his phone. But he didn't get more than a few steps as he collapsed nearby. 

"Ransom!" You shrieked and heels be damned, you ran to him, looking around, "help!" 

"Call 9-1-1, Baby," he begged, trying to thrust the phone into your hand and you leaned over him. 

With a jittery hand you swiped over to the emergency call option and hit the first two digits before you glanced around again and hesitated, rising slowly to your feet.

“What...” Ransom’s chest heaved as he looked up at you, his face white with shock as you turned the phone in your hand and shrugged.

“Yeah, you see, I could call for help but...” with that you tossed his phone to the hard ground and crunched it with your stupidly high heel, rotating your foot to make double sure, the glass and metal grinding between the stiletto and the tarmac. “Whoops, looks like it got smashed in the fight.” You gave a little chuckle. “And of course, mine was in my bag which he took. Isn’t that ironic? I mean the first time you permit me to use it for something other than to contact you or my mom, I can’t.” You made a little tutting noise. “Guess I’ll just have to keep yelling and hope someone hears.”

With that you turned and screamed, a frantic yell. “Please, someone help us! Please, he’s been stabbed, call 9-1-1.” You slowly dropped back to a kneel, ignoring the sting of your grazed knees and smirked. “Dammed, I really am good at this acting shit, don’t you think, handsome?”

Ransom coughed a harsh and wet cough. His chest heaving raggedly as he struggled between catching a breath and bleeding out. 

“Y/N...” he spluttered, “you...please...”

"So many criminal junkies in Boston, Sweetheart. Plenty who will take the fall for a little hit,” you emphasised the 't' of the last word as you spoke the very same line that he had delivered to you months ago, the threat he had held over you and used to keep you in check whenever you stepped over that line. 

His eyes widened further as the realisation set in, you could see his brain working and it gave you a buzz, a sense of satisfaction to know that he understood this was your doing.

You wanted the last thing this bastard thought about to be how you were responsible for his death. But more so, his narcissistic and sociopathic tendencies be damned, you wanted him to completely understand exactly how it was his fault. 

And given the way he was bleeding and struggling for breath, you didn’t have long.

Another scream for help flew from your mouth as you pressed one hand on top of his which were now both clutched to the wound in his stomach, the other brushing his hair back slightly as you smiled down at him. 

“I told you when you threw me back in the basement that the way you treat people would come back to haunt you.” You gave a little shrug. “And, when you told the homeless guy looking in the bins on collection day a few months back to eat shit and get a job, well, he took it kinda personally. He didn’t even blink when I asked how much it would take to knock you off.”

"You..." choking on blood, "vicious..." choke,

At that you gave another loud hysteric yell for help before you turned your head back to look at him.

“See, once upon a time I thought you’d changed. But here’s the thing, a person like you doesn’t change, Hugh. You’re incapable of love. You take what you want when you want for no reason other than it pleases you.”

Another scream for help, and this time you could hear someone answering and a lot of yells as people started running towards you.

“Well, now I’ve taken your life like you took mine.” You bent down, your forehead pressing to his as you smirked. His arm reached up to grab you, his blood soaked hand curling over your cheek and side of your neck. "And you know what? It feels good."

His palm was warm and slick against your skin and his eyes blazed with anger as his fingers squeezed. You knew he was desperately trying to hurt you but you felt nothing. You smiled, as you placed a soft kiss to his lips, your words whispered as you pulled back ever so slightly. “Karma’s a bitch, and so am I. See you in hell.”

As the fake tears started to pool in your eyes once more, you allowed your lip to tremble for distraught emphasis. Blood was now trickling out of Ransom's mouth, along down his ear and to the tarmac. You pulled back just a little so as to see his eyes. You wanted to watch him choke on his own blood as he took that final breath. You started sputtering words incoherently as you amped up the hysteria, hearing the footfalls now just behind you. 

He didn’t even make it to the hospital. 

Hugh Ransom Drysdale was pronounced dead at 21:05 hours on Friday 17th July where he lay in a pool of his own blood, in that dark alleyway down the side of the hotel.

Leaving you a widow.

And free. 

***10 months later***

It was as simple as it sounded, closing your eyes and pointing to a spot on a map. Your finger ended up on Boulder. 

Colorado was far enough from the last year or so of your life that you could feel comfortable. You'd researched it, finding it to be something worth interest. Affordable. Breath-taking scenery. Incredible life altering activities and quaint little towns. The summers were supposedly warm but rarely did the temperature rise above ninety-five, the winters were supposedly very cold, dry and windy; rarely dropping below six degrees with partly cloudy skies year round.

The months following Ransom’s death had been as draining as humanly possible. The investigation had involved countless interviews before the police and authorities settled for it being a mugging gone wrong. But then there had been the months of wrangling and private law cases his parents had attempted to bring against you to prevent you getting his money, despite the probate law being fairly simple. You were married. He left no will. It was yours by default. 

Eventually, when the Drysdales had exhausted every last option, they were forced to concede and that was when you made the decision to leave, a decision of which your parents were highly encouraging. They practically talked you into this whole thing to begin with. Helping you leave your nightmares behind. Despite them not suspecting anything at first, you weren't blind to the fact that things still had not sat right with them. You knew they had suspected a level coercion, that maybe you'd had a manic episode of mental illness, but you never had divulged the full details and by the time he was gone, they hadn't cared. Your relationship with them had strengthened and healed and that was what you cared about.

Now, you were newly nestled in Boulder with a great condo downtown, a stone’s throw from the historic district that was filled with cliché shops and bars.  Whilst you didn’t need the money, you’d taken a job working in the media department of a private law firm. It was a far cry from your journalist days, but it suited you just fine.

The more distance you put between who you were now and who you had been, the better. 

You were at peace.

The May evening air was temperate as you crossed the street and opened the door to the designated bar in which you were meeting your new group of friends, mostly gathered from work, for a girl's night out. You’d been held up a little in the office so they were already waiting at a table. You waved and gestured to the bar, indicating you were going to get a drink. 

As you sidled up to the wooden counter, you were jolted a little into a man to your right. You turned to apologise and gave a little double take. You recognised him instantly. But you didn’t want to make that obvious and cause him to feel uncomfortable. You knew how it felt, to have everyone looking at you, hushed whispered comments as you went about your business, people trying to figure out if you were who they thought you were.

That was part of the reason you had moved, and you sure as hell weren’t about to subject the man next to you to the same, uncomfortable experiences. 

Recovering quickly, you hastily apologised and he smiled.

“Don’t worry about it.” His Boston accent was evident and you smiled.

“I miss that accent.” 

The man chuckled, his warm blue eyes creasing slightly as he looked at you. “You from Boston, too?”

“Concord.”

“Newton.” He replied, “well, I lived there anyway, but I’m sure you already knew that.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Should I? Know that, I mean?”

He studied you for a moment, and you kept your face as passive as possible. You could tell he knew that you knew, but you gave a shrug none-the-less and he smiled, a gorgeous smile that lit up his entire face, perfect white teeth flashing from beneath an immaculately groomed beard, as he extended his arm towards you.

“Andy Barber.” His fingers gently brushed the back of your knuckles, as you shook his hand, his grip warm and gentle.

“Oh, of course.” You smiled back. “One of our attorneys.”

“Our?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m Y/N. I work in the media department. I mean I only started a few weeks ago but...”

“Well, in that case, I’m pleased to meet you, Y/N, and welcome aboard.” His smile didn’t falter as he let go of your hand and gestured to the bar. “Can I get you a drink?”

You paused for a moment before you took a deep breath.

And nodded.

“Sure, that’d be great.”

******

Sequel: Follow Andy and reader’s story in Consciousness Of Guilt. 

[jay-and-dean]

Don’t look down, Baby   Part 1/3

Dean x reader

Summary :  Dean told her to ignore the “thing” between them and to jump in any guy’s arms. Any of them but him.

When we think of a guy our Y/n could be with, longing for Dean, it’s usually a nice dude, a little boring, right ? Because who can compete with Dean ? Now, what if this guy was as badass as Dean ?

Characters : Dean Winchesters, Sam Winchester, Reader, Abraham Hale (OC)

Warnings : Angst, jealous Dean, Smut (unprotected sex -you’re smarter than this !-, oral, also kinda lame sex if it’s a warning), cheating, swearing, smoking, drinking... More warnings in the second part.

Wordcount : 6k (yes, just the part one... now you get why I cut it.)

Note : So for the Aestetic, I used the face of Jax Teller from Sons Of Anarchy, and you have to know, even if Abraham Hale looks like him, he is totally an OC.

This is writen both in Reader and Dean’s Pov. Dean’s thought are in italic. 

Text divider by the talented @talesmaniac89​

Jay’s Masterlist

September 16, 10:33pm

 Dean’s POV

           I always thought that when Y/n finds a guy, it would be the perfect douche I wanted for her. Some nice dude named Robert, a cop maybe, or a realtor with a friendly family.

           He would annoy me to death with his stories about growing up in a farm, and call her Pumpkin. He would worry a little when she goes out with us because he thinks we drink too much when we’re together.

           He would tear her from me and I would hate him for that. She would skip a hunt to meet his parents, another to spend a few days in the cabin he rented… But even if it breaks my heart, it would be exactly what I want for her, so I would let her go.

           I had it all planned.

           But, of course, she didn’t play by the rules.

           And that guy is no Robert…

           His loud manly laugh tears me from my thoughts. His tattooed hand wraps around his whiskey glass and I turn my head to that waitress that always gives me warm smiles, she’s staring at him now, with the sweetness that was once for me.

           Abe.

           Ex-gang member, Abe. Bad guy turned good. Raised by the widow of a gang member, in a violent environment, he already had a criminal record at fourteen, started selling guns before he was officially allowed to drink, ended up in prison at Twenty-two.

Sweet smile Abe. Reformed bad boy with an attitude. Became a hunter after he met a vampire gang and slew them to the last. Now defender of the good citizen, he found his fight, and the hunters talk about him as one of the bests.

Afraid of nothing and ready to fight, charismatic, alpha Abe. His muscular arm in the back of my girl, his long blond hair falling on his face when he lights up a cigarette in a grunt of content while she touches his neck.

Abe. My new nemesis.

“So Dean” he says with his deep voice hoarse from smoking too much. “How did you meet my girl ?”

I met her on a hunt, invited her to my room and took her on that wall. Do you remember, Y/n ? Don’t look down baby, look at me.

“On a hunt.”

“That’s how I met her too” he smiles and kisses her temple. “Seems like we have a lot in common.”

“Looks like we do” I state.

           Her eyes darken and she turns her head, I know how to read her, she is pissed, and I don’t even know why. I did nothing, I said nothing, and her rock-and-roll version of prince charming is worshiping her, so what causes that bitterness ?

What is it, baby ? Am I missing something ?

“So I heard your brother and you have this fucking palace ?” he gives me a corner smile, smoke coming out of his nose.

“Who told you that ?” I grunt.

What is the point of a secret bunker if it is as secret as a freaking tweet ?

           He chuckles and takes a sip of his whiskey, not answering.

           Abe never answers all the questions he is asked, maybe it is some cool thing for guys like him, maybe it is his way of look mysterious or powerful. What is sure is, as annoying as it is, it freaking works. But each time he smirks with his eyes lost in the bottom of his glass in a little huff instead of speaking, I get closer to losing it and smashing his pretty face on the table.

“I told him” she says almost coldly. “Like you did all your friends, Abe is my boyfriend, Dean.”

I nod. What can I say, she’s right after all. She’s always right…

           She was right about that cop being the bad guy the first time we hunted together, right about the fact that my so-called bond with Amara would fade the second she gets whatever she wanted. She was right about Jack being a good kid but dangerous enough to need to be watched and educated instead of pushed away. Right about Mary hurting me more than I admitted…

She was right when she said I was wrong. The day I told her we shouldn’t sleep together again, that she should just ignore that thing between us and jump in any guy’s arms. Any of them but me…

I really say that : any of them. I did.

Did you choose Abe just to annoy me, baby ? To prove a point ? You had to bring a guy who would beat me at my own grumpy-loner-badass-crap-drink-too-much game, right ?

“That place sounds sure awesome, because Y/n keeps coming back to it” he states, not letting me know the true meaning he puts in that sentence, his piercing blue eyes free of any emotions on the surface.

“Well it’s home for her” I say, and that bastard chuckles. “Is it funny ?”

“Not at all !” he says with a warm and kind laugh, and a friendly tap on my shoulder. “You should relax Dean, you look like the bar is full of demons !”

I stay stern, I know I should probably look friendly, but I rarely hated someone nice that much.

           He gets up and kisses her head before he walks away, his manly way to move catching women’s attention, and some men’s too. One of his hand goes through his blond hair while he walks to the bathroom with the other hand deep in his jeans’ pocket.

“So… Abe, huh ?” I ask, the second he’s gone.

           I should be more coherent, I know. I want her gone, but I want her for me. I was sure I was ready to see her with someone else, it’s been three years. Three years ! After we only made love six times. She is not mine, she never was.

And I thought calling her Baby in my head would make me strong. It’s a weird feeling, like I could let her be happy, but still feel special. I would have been the passion of her youth, the one that died young and of which she would think a little when she rocks her baby in her pretty house…

I had somehow romanticized my heartbreak.

But that doesn’t feel romantic at all. And all I can think of is that he is passion too, I’m not dead, and I just have to see him touch her and imagine them at night…

“Yes” she says, still with that bitterness in her voice. “You could make an effort, Dean. He has been nothing but nice, and you act like he’s an enemy.”

“I haven’t decided if he is one yet.”

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head in disapproval.

I recognize hurt. My Y/n, when she’s hurt, she gets angry. Always. And I made her angry so often. Her irritation is growing, I can see it in her burning eyes.

“You can’t do that” she says low. “You can’t treat him like that, no one gives you the right.”

“And him ?” I dare asking, staring at her reddened face. “Does he treat you right ?”

Her eyes fills with tears again and her jaw clenches.

“Better than you did, you mean ?” her words feel like a stab in my heart.

 Reader’s POV

           I didn’t want to say that, it came out by itself.

           I’m thin-skinned lately. I feel like I could cry or scream any moment, all the time. My emotions have always been loud, my sensibility overwhelming, but for a few weeks I’m drowning.

           The fact that I decided to try to get over Dean Winchester probably caused that.

A long time ago, I thought living with Dean without ever having him would be the worst, then I saw him with other women and was convinced I was mistaking before : the worst was definitely that. How wrong was I ?

           The worst is having had him. Not once, but several times, each time a little more intimate. More kisses, more touches, more suspended seconds watching in each other’s eyes… Until we spent that night together, that last night, and he fell asleep against me for the first time.

           It was over. It was too much for Dean, and not enough for me.

           Dean Winchester can’t belong to anyone, not again. He doesn’t want to be a boyfriend, and he doesn’t want me to be his girl ; who am I to insist ?

“Well, that’s a minimum” he answers in a soft groan after a little while, and my heart breaks because I just did what I swore I would never do : Reproach him for any of it.

“I’m sorry” I sigh, thinking of those weeks after the last night, when I had to hide the worst pain I ever felt because I didn’t want him to feel bad about not wanting me.

I still do... -feel that pain and try to hide- because Abe or not, I still live with Dean and he doesn’t deserve to carry my pain on top of the world on his shoulders.

“Can you at least try ?” I beg, low, seeing my boyfriend getting out of the restroom but stopping next to the door to talk to someone he obviously knows.

“Yes” Dean answers. “I’m just… He’s a hunter and…”

“He’s a good man” I assure him, looking at Abe walking toward us above Dean’s shoulder. “He comes from a dark place, like us, but he is a good man.”

 September 21, 08:12pm

 “That place is crazy !” Abe says, sitting at the table of the library. “I have never seen anything like this.”

           While Sam tells him a little more about the bunker, I look at my boyfriend.

           I stare at him, trying to get rid of that uncomfortable impression, that feeling screaming that he doesn’t belong here ; because if he doesn’t belong in the bunker, then he probably just has nothing to do in my life.

           A lot of memories cross my mind, like it happens a lot lately.

The memory of entering the bunker for the first time and deeply knowing that, as long as I am welcome here, this would be my home. Because it just feels right and because, even if I’m not the granddaughter of Henri Winchester, he trusted me with this place, as much as he trusted his family. That man actually welcomed me like Mary never really did, like I was just as legit as blood.

At his frank smile, the memory of meeting Abe crosses me too. I was alone in this hunter bar, trying to get information for a case. I hadn’t told Sam and Dean that I would go there, because I know how much uncomfortable the hunter community makes them. And I was introduced to him : Abraham Hale. I found him so beautiful, with his mischievous smile that seemed to mock the entire world, his wheat blond hair and his tattoos. Something felt so safe about him, not because he looked like a bad boy, but because he was light and happy, laughing at everything and taking nothing seriously… All that Dean wasn’t.

I loved his wild energy right away. Abe was like the drums in a rock song, like summer wind. In his arms, I forgot about Dean for a few seconds a day during the first weeks. We spent days sleeping and having sex behind the curtains of that motel room, hiding from summer heat, and nights drinking and listen to rock music...

But now I look at him, his bright blue eyes seem pale next to the deep green looking back, and his beauty is bland.

“Thank you for showing me your home, Treasure” he says, putting a tender hand on my back like he always does.

And my eyes cross Dean’s.

           I know what he’s thinking, he’s cringing at the nickname, and that reminds me why I am with Abe : Dean never gave me a nickname, he never called me anything else than my name, he will never and even when others do, he thinks it’s lame and cheesy.

 Dean’s POV

           That hurt on her face again.

Baby, you can’t look at me like that each time he calls you Treasure . I don’t like it, but you’re supposed to do.

           This is much harder than I thought, and I was aware it would be impossible.

           Each and every one of his actions makes me face my own contradictions : The more loving he is, the more I want to push him away from her. But the more she seems distant and to have her head in the clouds, the more it eases the pain. Am I selfish enough to hate her happiness even though I love her ?

           I was in control, during those three years not touching her, my heart was aching with craving and my soul was screaming at me to make her love me. But as much as the heartbreak was constant, I had chosen it. I was in control.

           I never realize that it was only bearable because she was still here, my partner, my best friend, my roommate. Mine.

           Now she took it back. She raised her middle finger right in my face and decided she wouldn’t be mine anymore.

And that is a whole new level of pain.

           I don’t sleep when she’s not home, and sometimes food just won’t let me eat it. She texts during our movie nights and wears that pendant he gave her. I hate that pendant because it reminds me I never gave her a present. Not once in all those years.

“Another drink ?” Y/n asks him with the bottle in her hand.

“Don’t you drive ?” I cut him before he answers and I see her eyes shoot me with imaginary bullets.

I’m sorry Baby but it’s movie night tonight, can’t he just leave already ?

“He’s right” she says giving me a little hope that she will ask him to leave soon. “You should stay for the night.”

My breathing gets stuck in my lungs.

No Baby, don’t do that to me. Please.

“With pleasure !” he smiles.

 September 21, 11:49pm

 Reader’s Pov

           He grabs my thigh to lift it a little and grunt in my ear. His kisses are hot on my neck, his heavy body moving cautiously on top of me.

           My eyes are on the ceiling, my hands on his sweaty muscular back and I wait.

           Damn, what is happening ? He’s close, I am going to fake it ? I swore I would never fake, I swore if the guy can’t get me there, he should know, but… Abe is not the problem, I am.

           I just watch the ceiling wondering what is wrong with me. He did everything right, nice foreplays and those love words he always has for me. But nothing seems to turn me on anymore, and without the need and the pleasure, his thrusts are just uncomfortable and I feel weird.

           Come already.

           I sigh. I know what is making this impossible. Dean. This fucker is the last I had in my own bed, the only one in fact. And everything reminds me that Abe is not Dean fucking Winchester !

“You okay Treasure ?” he pants in my ear, nibbling at it.

I’m not a freaking snack, what is it with his mouth and teeth always ?

“Yes” I fake a moan. “I’m close Abe, come.”

Just don’t be loud, that would be so awkward.

           When he loses rhythm, I close my eyes at the relief, it won’t be long now, make it stop. He shakes a little and grunt loud, filling the condom inside of me ; and, to make my fake moans credible, I clench my walls around him one time or two, rolling my eyes at his proud groan.

           Sex with Abe used to be so much more than this. I'm getting frustrated. Did I break something in me ? Why can't I enjoy anything anymore ?

           He rolls on my side, panting, and smiles tenderly at me. He’s beautiful, I have to admit that, and he’s nice and loving.

“You’re amazing” he hums. “I guess I can’t smoke in your bedroom ?”

“I don’t mind” I answer sincerely. “The air co is magical, just, don’t smoke more than one.”

           He sits on the bed to get his pants, his beautiful tattooed back on me. The smoke flies in pretty wreath. I put my hand on the lion tattooed on his back. It suits him, with his solar attitude and his confidence, his beautiful blond hair…

           Yet I keep longing for my wolf.

 Dean’s Pov

           Now I know I could kill him. And now I know what the limit amount of pain I can take is.

           I pace my room like a crazy man. He is taking her, my Baby. He is sinking inside of her and stealing pleasure. Does she wrap her legs around him like she always did with me ? To push me deeper. Is she as responsive ? As lost in pleasure as she was ? With that way only she has too beg for more with her entire body, voice strangled and arms caging me the best she can…

           Is she…

“F-fuck…” I whine, holding my heart.

I think I just felt it break.

Baby…

Breathing is painful now, I feel like I’m drowning.

Baby… Why did you have to do that to me ? I know I hurt you but your revenge is unbearable.

I sit on my bed, still holding my chest.

I can’t take it, you know.

“Shit” I grunt.

How can this kind of familiar panic attack be back ? How can this hurt so much ? It’s not Hell, it’s not Purgatory…

“It is Hell” I say out loud.

Loosing you, Baby. It’s Hell. Do you love him ? Because…

“Fuck, I love her” I whine.

 September 28, 06:05pm

             Sitting in my “Fortress of Deanitude”, I wait. The tray with snacks is there, beers too, and Netflix is ready for our next episode of Stanger Things.

           But there is a big chance she won’t come. Our movie nights are getting rarer and rarer, like our time together in general. And this place is slowly becoming a Fortress of Solitude…

           You never know how much you need something until you lost it, right ? I was stupid enough to think I could be stronger than the need for her and now look at me, alone in that big empty room in a bigger emptier bunker.

           All I can think of is how much each day pulls her closer to him and further from me. They are building memories in which I’m not, they are building an intimacy that I lost three years ago. She will forget me and he will have her, maybe even make her change a little, until one day she is among those people who talk about their personal tastes by saying “we”. “We prefer red wine”.

           Ew.

           Is he going to change my girl, for real ? Make her love Led Zeppelin a little less, make her a little less her, make her want other things, another life, need me less ? Our things will become unimportant and be replaced by all kind of other things I have no idea about.

           I take a long sip of my glass. It’s not like I had my word to say anyway. I lost her. I lost her in the worst way possible : willingly.

           But just when I’m about to get up and go put the snacks away, she opens the door, panting a little, like she had ran.

“Dean” she says entering the room. “I’m sorry. There was an accident on the road and the traffic was disturbed.”

You were at his place, Baby, and you ran to me ?

A little smile lights up my face when her presence revive my heart.

“It’s okay” I say.

“I’m late, but I have…” she takes her hand out of her purse. “Giant skittles !”

“You found them ?” I smile, sitting straighter when she hands me a bag.

Our things are not all gone. And she still cares about me and about our time together.

“Yup ! I made Abe stop in every shop yesterday.”

So you think of me when you’re with him, Baby ? Have you ever thought of me while he was inside of you ?

“Sit” I pat the armchair next to mine. “Let’s find out if Dusty’s girlfriend exists !”

“I really hope !” she exclaims, taking off her jacket.

I try not to look at her, but when she quickly takes off her jeans to slip in her pajamas pants, I swallow hard. Those thighs could have been for me, and I could have watched the show while holding her.

           She sits with her knees up against her chest in the big chair next to me, and takes a beer. My eyes are glued to her, looking for anything unusual, and fearing it more than anything in the same time.

“What ?” she calls me out of my thoughts.

“Nothing, I…” have no idea how to finish this sentence.

“I’m still okay you know ?” she says without looking at me, playing with the label of her beer bottle. “You always stare at me like something had happened to me. I know what you think of Abraham, but he doesn’t treat me bad.”

 Reader’s Pov

“I’m sorry” he sighs. “You know how protective I can get. Especially with you…”

A chuckle escapes me and I know he doesn’t like it, but protective with me ? He broke my heart. He ripped it and threw it on the floor because I had said those words.

“Yeah…” I nod, nibbling at my lip. “You won’t find bruises on me.”

He doesn’t answer.

           When did we become like this ?

           After a silence, he hands me candies and presses play. But, chewing on sugar and my eyes on the screen, I keep my full attention on him.

           I have everything any girl would want : A lover with hot blood, beauty and a heart of gold. But I'm not any girl, and the only thing I want is Dean Winchester. The genius who thinks he's dumb, the scared little boy who lost his mom, the leader, the victim of his fate, the killer, the loyal friend, the rebel, the torturer, the perfect brother, the wary hunter, the crappy dancer ; grumpy Dean, childish Dean, stubborn Dean, all of Dean...

           I look at him and my eyes travel down his neck, his beard is fighting to grow back there but I know he won't let it. The slow movements of his chest are mesmerizing. My eyes go down, to his thighs and crotch...

           I really shouldn't let myself look there but his smell and aura are like a mermaid song and I'm drowning. His strength is radiating of him and I feel myself respond to it in everyone of my heartbeats.

           He could make me scream. He always did, so easily. Dean made me cry of pleasure more than once, sometimes without any effort, the brushes of his fingers, the burning of his kisses... And when he finally buried himself inside of me, it was like a firework in Heaven. He never had to do anything really special...

           And now I wonder : Is something broken about me ? Abe is passionate and loving, we used to work great, he was easy as whiskey. And he loves me. Why am I unable to enjoy any of it lately ?

           My eyes trace the bump in Dean’s pants and I remember the simple ecstasy of feeling his cock twitch for me. Dean... I bite my lip to hold back the moan hanging on my tongue. His thigh moves a little, strong muscles hidden in his jeans, and I think of his stomach contracting that time he came on my tongue. I…

“I see you” his deep serious voice hits the air like thunder.

I look up to meet his eyes and realize I have been staring at his crotch, licking my lips and probably visibly holding back moans.

“Do you need something ?” he asks with a proud aura on his face.

I want to punch that expression off of his perfect features.

           I look down and sigh. Yes, I do. I need him, not only want like I would like to think, but need indeed. I need him to feel my body, to make it alive, and to hear my soul breathe again.

“Dean…” I just say.

Like it was an answer or reproach but of course, he hears it for what it is.

           A call.

           So he gets up, suddenly so tall that he eclipses the TV, the light and my will. He comes in front of me, standing there, making me look up timidly through my lashes. His strong hand lands cautiously on my cheek, gently holding my face while I lean on his touch.

           I can resist him. I can.

           I think of Abe's sweet smile, of his deep voice and his arms around me. I think of this night he told me about jail and I tried all I could to make him feel safe again, that was a beautiful moment... We are something beautiful Abe and me. We are going to make it right, to make it count. Right ?

           As my heart fights itself, playing all the love songs I know at once in my head in a deafening dim of emotions, my eyes fill with tears. I know what is going to happen, and the cruel god writing my story can stop there, the end is already obvious.

           I can't resist Dean. I just can't.

           And Abe will cry, right ? He trusts me. He will take his bag and yell maybe, the sun inside of him will get clouded, he will drive away. Then I will let my body slide on the door frame, unable to hold my weight up, because I will have broken the only man that ever truly loved me.

           I look down to hide the pain from Dean, but he knows me better.

"I can leave" he says.

But it's the last thing I want because I miss him, I miss him like a part of me died years ago and I still feel empty and cold... I miss him when I'm alone, and even more when I'm not.

           When he's about to move, take a step back to leave me alone, I grab his belt and hold him in place firmly. I have no plan, no solid thought, but I know I can't be away from him for now. He smells both like the most familiar home and the wildest dream.

           My other hand grazes the fabric of his jeans on his thigh, I close my eyes for a second and a little whimper escapes me. I started touching Dean less than a day after meeting him, and it seems I can't be around him without having my hands on his body.

           He hums, staring down at me, bow legs slightly parted like he needed balance, like he was gripping the floor for both of us. Dean had always been my anchor. His shoulders look wider from down here and I want nothing more than letting my hands grab his butt to rub my cheek on his crotch like a cat marking its territory.

"Touch me like you need it, Baby" he murmurs and a little sob escapes me unexpectedly.

He never ever called me Baby.

           He never gave me any nickname like he never gave me the place I thought I could take in his heart. And Abe, he calls me Treasure. He welcomed me in his heart...

"What's wrong ?" Dean asks like he didn't know.

Dean Winchester is the world's greatest hero, saved basically everyone's life without any reward, and for this he is a saint ; and still, he's the one that is going to be the end of me. Hero or not, he's my villain.

"Everything is wrong, Dean" I answer in a broken voice. "Everything."

He squats in front of me and my hand panics at losing my grip on his belt so it grasps his flannel like my life depends on it.

"Not everything" he whispers, bending to let his poisonous lips graze my skin.

My treacherous mouth opens in reflex at the proximity of his, making him respond by biting my lower lip. I whimper again and pull him closer.

"I got you" he states, letting his burning lips trace down my chin and my neck followed by his thumb, scratching my skin with his short nail. And I catch fire.

I let my head falls back and I surrender totally.

           That's how bad he is for me : I could let him break my heart again without an hesitation, after it took me years to recover just enough to just function. And oh, I will. I will shatter the heart of the man that trusts me just to let Dean selfishly remind me how much I love him.

           His breath is burning my skin, spreading in the fabric of my t-shirt when he buries his face on my chest, opening his mouth wide to pretend to bite my breast, hand cupping my sides like he had missed me for real. I let go of the plaid fabric to grip the short strand of his hair like I can.

"Dean..." the moan I have been holding comes out, filling the room with sin and the echo of future lies.

"I got you" he repeats.

His hungry hands seize my jeans and tear it open, fighting the metallic button's resistance brutally. The fabric hurts my lower back in a last resistance but is ripped off of me the second after, taking my panties in its way.

           And before I can sit straighter now that I'm on the edge of the chair, before I can talk, think or breath. Dean's anaconda arms grab my thighs firmly and his burning breath is on my folds.

"Wh-" I start but what can I say now.

He kisses my folds like no men ever did : like he was in love with that part of me. An open mouth kiss, tongue eagerly lapping my juice from my entrance to my clit.

"AH !" I scream, arching my back but Dean doesn't take a second to breathe, burying his face on me.

I squirm, licking my lips like I was kissing him back but the place he is devouring can only respond with throbs and getting soaked, which is does.

           I'm panting, I'm being eaten by the flames of that indescribable pleasure that is back. My stomach is shaking, my temples are beating so loud. I suck a breath when he sucks at my clit, moist hand gripping the leather of the chair.

"Dean" I moan again in the subdued light of the warm room.

He answers with a hum, and his nimble tongue pushes at my entrance, making my thighs shake violently in the vise grip of his arms.

           I can't escape what Dean does to me so I let go.

           My whole body falls backward when I come, harder than I have in years, holding his hair so tight it might hurt him, legs shaken by electricity, back arching and chest fighting itself to breath. My sensible clit seems to have nerves in my whole body and I fall silent, covered in sweat, suffocated by a forbidden crushing orgasm.

           I whimper desperately, limp and lost, panting in the chair like I didn't realize yet what just hit me. But Dean knows what he's doing, he knows where this goes.

           He opens his jeans, I can feel it even though I don't see him, my head still back, moaning at the caresses of his tongue on my neck. I bite my lip hard, hand moving from the arm of the chair to his, to feel his eagerness.

           And he grabs my thighs harshly, making me fall on the floor with him and holds my back when I can't, keeping me against him.

"So wrong..." I whisper in a dying echo of my disgrace.

His hand grasps my face firmly and makes me look at him. His eyes have this fire in them, he clenches his jaw when I roll my lips a little, wetting his craved cock on me, dying of being finally filled by him.

"Keep your eyes on me" he groans, grabbing his length to guide it at my throbbing entrance.

"Dean..." I moan, fingers reaching his stomach under his clothes to feel it tremble.

"Eyes on me baby" he repeats low.

 Dean's Pov

           She can't think of him. Not now. I need her with me, I need her for me.

Feel me, baby.

           I smile slightly when she dives her unfocused pupils in my eyes. She's perfect and I love her ; but I must say when she seems to surrender so completely to my touch, that's when forgot why I asked her to stay away.

           When I enter her, her phone lights up once again in her back, on the floor. I groan loud as she wraps me like only she can, like she was trying to suck me inside her core. She's shaking, she's fighting to keep her eyes on me and I'm fighting that urge to grab her phone and shatter it in a million pieces against the wall.

           She gasps, her body threatening to fall back so I hold her.

That's it baby, stay with me, feel me, let me take you like I used to when you were mine.

My hand fists her hair and my mouth gets attracted to her pulse point so I bend to suck at it, barely thrusting for now, just enjoying to be inside of her, feeling her pulsating with desire, the concrete hard floor digging in my knees.

           Her arms wrap around me, she cling to me and I try to ignore my jealousy shouting at me.

Baby, you try to ignore me but can he do that to you ? Can he turn you into a purring cat like that ?

"Dean" she moans, clenching around me, her thighs trying to get herself even closer so she takes me impossibly deeper.

"Say you want me" I murmur against her skin in a voice I barely recognize.

"I want you" she gives in, exhaling in my ear.

           Behind her, her phone lights up one more time with a text : "I found us a case in California, Treasure."

=> PART 2

FEEDBACK IS GOLD

Tags : @parinarain @mogaruke @masterof-agony @rainflowermoon @tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @roonyxx @thefaithfulwriter @vicariouslythruspn @emeow1496 @daryldixonandfrogs @holylulusworld  @cocklesbelli @sandlee44 @screenchingartisancashbailiff @donnaintx @stormchasingchick32 @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @sister-winchesters99 @neii3n  @lyss-dw79 @im-a-shrub @sadwaywardkid​@hopelesslydevotedtoyou1912 @slyqueenj​ @i-love-superhero​ @waywardsisterandpie @sunsetsandbooks​ @mrspeacem1nusone​ @stylesismyhubs​ @deanwanddamons​ @jawritter​ @peridottea91​ @chelsea072498 @chocolateheart​ @vicmc624​ @teresa-67​ @jessie-michael​ @doctor-hp-mcu​ @hawkerz12​ @mariaenchanted​ @hobby27​

[salmonthestoryteller]

WIP Word Search

Tagged by:  @chamblerstara

Rules: find the words in your fic, post the section, pick new words, and tag more people.

Prompt Words: blood, ask, time

Blood: This is from a post season 2 Diablero fic I’ll probably never actually post.  Lia and Yaretzi are both OCs since the fic is based on Elvis being stuck in the past.

“Wait here.”  Elvis couldn’t meet her gaze as he forced his way through the people running in the opposite direction from the fight.  There were already bodies on the ground. A part of him wanted to look to see if any were Yaretzi, but there wasn’t time.

“Stay back!  The spirit is dangerous!”  A warrior got in his path.

“Then you should stay back.”  He dodged past him.

Lia was crouched in the village center - blood on her hands and mouth.  Dark eyes whipped to him when he entered.  “Well, well, what have we here?  A halfway decent challenge? I can smell your power.”

“I’ll give you one chance to run.  Leave her.”

“Cocky bastard, aren’t you?”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you… C’mon, demon, how about a dance with the devil?

Ask: So I was working on this Stranger Things ficlet based on some theories I read about time traveling to fix things.  And I was kind of hit by that meaning Steve would never become friends with Dustin or Robin. Don’t hurt me.

“Fuck, at least I'll be gone when Henderson comes to High School. At least I'll know that there won't be some other version of me bullying Dustin. I don't think I can take that thought.”

“No version of you would do that.”

“Don't be too sure.”  Before he could argue some more, Steve offered a sad smile. “At least I know he'll have you.  I'm glad. He’ll… he really does need someone on his side, so… and he kept telling me what a cool guy you were - even before you were ever involved in any of this.”

“He did?  He talked about me to you?”  Eddie couldn’t help but ask.  The last little flame of jealousy snuffed out as Steve nodded.

Steve’s smile was slightly sad as he then repeated familiar words.  “He worships you, dude.”

Time: How did one of only three words manage to pull up Pickup Man?  *wags finger* I just previewed you guys.  Roswell New Mexico, of course.

“Kyle left me his car. Said he'll pick it up tomorrow night.”

“How's he getting to the hospital?”

“Dallas took him.”

Alex did a second sweep of the room, spotting Dallas talking to Isobel.  He hadn't thought he'd miscounted on the first sweep.  He supposed there had been time for him to drive Kyle to the hospital and come back. Still, something seemed slightly off. He promised himself to check in with Kyle later.

For now, he let his gaze wander back to Michael.  “So what I'm hearing is you're coming over tonight.”

Michael chuckled, glancing over at him.  “What I’m hearing is you're anxious to get me out of the suit you so graciously helped force me into.”

“Who said anything about letting you take it off?” Alex leaned in with a smirk of his own.

(I am such a dialogue writer I probably posted more than necessary… oh well.)

Your prompts: trouble, delighted, throw

Tagging: @tasyfa, @myrmidryad, @lovecolibri

As always, feel free to ignore my tagging!  XD  (See, this is why I usually don’t actually tag…)

[malfoymanortings]

somebody else PT 1

SUMMARY: Mae has been in love with Draco Malfoy since her first year at Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy fell in love with Mae in their fourth year, and then promptly fell into Pansy’s bed instead. All the while, Mae clings to the hope that Draco will change. That is, until, Ron Weasley takes his chance.

PAIRINGS: toxic!Draco x OC, Ron x OC, Ginny x Luna

!a sprinkle of smut in this chapter! 

TRIGGERS: suicidal idealization for a brief moment.

"What do you feel?" Draco asked her, a smirk on his devilishly handsome face.

"I don't feel anything." she replied emotionlessly, staring blankly at his uncaring eyes.

"Why's that?" he inquired, the smirk not leaving. He asked her this all the time. Every time, she gave him the same reply.

"Because you always do this."

"So leave." Draco snarled, a disgusted look on his face.

"I can't leave you, because I love you." the words hurt, and she briefly shut her eyes as he caressed her jaw with his hand, gently placing his thumb on her full lips, his family ring cool against her skin.

"But I don't." he said the words cruelly, harshly dragging his thumb down her lip and then placing his hand on her throat.

"I know." she acknowledged his cruel words. It was nothing new to her.

He roughly shoved her away from him, his hand jostling her collarbone harshly. He laughed as she flinched, turning away from her. She knew he would turn before he left the door, and he did, coming back to her and pushing her against the wall. He gripped her neck tightly, the metal from his rings pressing painfully on her throat, placing his lips to her ear.

"You would do anything for me." he breathed out, his teeth grazing her lobe.

Draco roughly took her robes off, and she unbuttoned her shirt. He pushed her down onto his bed, their lips mashing together as he roughly gripped her hips, leaving his fingerprints behind. He trailed his lips down her neck, to her breasts where he quickly undid her bra, leaving her exposed as he groped at her skin. She moaned at his touch, which seemed to make him go faster as he quickly slid down her skirt and pumped two of his long fingers deep into her pussy. 

Before she was ready, he thrusted his dick inside her, making her gasp at the pain. He had his arms propped up on either side of her head, leaning down to leave marks on her neck as he pumped in and out of her. She moaned loudly as the pain subsided and pleasure took its place. 

"You like that, don't you?" Draco muttered breathlessly. "Fifthly little slut."

His breathing became ragged, and with one final hard thrust, he pulled out of her and rolled off the bed. She lay there, regulating her breathing, and shutting her eyes so he didn't see her cry. As usual, it was over as quickly as it had began, and she knew that was because he got all his foreplay done with Pansy fucking Parkinson.

"D'you want me to go now?" she asked quietly, sliding her skirt back on and retrieving her bra.

"Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle will be back soon, so you'll probably want to be gone." Draco shrugged, putting his clothes back on and fixing his hair.

"Or are you just going to invite Pansy up here later?" she couldn't stop the sarcastic comment from coming out, sliding her shirt on and tucking it into her skirt.

Draco smirked at her. "Maybe."

She felt the tears prick again, and she quickly left his dorm without saying goodbye. After all this time, surely she would have gotten used to the feeling. Surely, she would have stopped caring.

But caring was the only thing she knew how to do. And Draco knew that. Draco was well aware of that.

It had started last year during their third year. She had always had a crush on Draco, and as it had turned out, he had known the whole time. He had love for her at one point, she assured herself, but she just couldn't figure out when the love had faded. Maybe it was last year at the Yule Ball when Pansy's dress sparkled more than hers and Pansy's tits were on full display in her low cut gown.

Maybe it was when they had grown comfortable enough that it could have been mistaken as losing feelings. She had started to see the tender look he would give her fade after the Yule Ball. That was when he began making excuses for why he couldn't study with her, why he wasn't sitting with her at meal times, until eventually she found Draco and Pansy wrapped together on the common room couch.

Perhaps if she hadn't forgiven Draco so quickly, if she hadn't assured Draco that she understood why he cheated, maybe he wouldn't have done it again. She would never forget that glimmer of cocky triumph in his eye when he realized she had forgiven him without a fight.

Sitting on the edge of the balcony in the astronomy tower, she tilted her head to the sky, staring out at the vast spattering of stars. Her dark brown hair tangled in the wind around her, and she couldn't find it in herself to care.

As she thought of that first time she had caught Draco, she laughed bitterly as she recalled he hadn't even apologized. He had simply stared warily at her, gauging her reaction, and when she immediately said she wasn't upset, he had relaxed. Throughout it all, she had been the one to apologize. She had been the one to ask what she could change in order for this to never happen again. She had been the one to promise to do better. All the while he had sat there and planned out the next time he was going to see Pansy.

She knew people were shocked when she and Draco had started dating. It seemed unlikely, the bullying Slytherin prince paired with the unusually kind Slytherin outcast. Before Draco, she hadn't had many friends in her house. She had most of her friends in the other houses, Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley being her best ones. Luna had accepted Draco as her boyfriend, while Ginny was thoroughly against it. For a while, they had stopped being friends, only to pick back up after an awkward month of Luna finding the strangest reasons to bring them together. Luna couldn't stand the thought of her best friend and her crush no longer being friends. Through it all, Luna was the only one who knew just how many times Draco had cheated on her.

"My cousin must have an infestation of the nittlebigs," Luna had said loftily, holding her as she cried. "I don't understand why else he would hurt someone as beautiful and kind as you."

Luna never pressured her to break up with Draco, and that was part of why they were so close. She knew that regardless of what she told Luna, Luna would listen and offer judgement free advice. A rather large part of her wanted to carry a mini Luna around in her pocket so that when she was feeling down, Luna would have something rather kind to say or something so odd that it would distract her from her personal woes.

She longed for Luna now, desperately wishing she had a distraction from her mind.

Just jump.. the voice whispered in her head. jump, and you'll no longer feel anything.

The voice was so.. alluring. It was true, if she jumped, she wouldn't have to feel anything. It wasn't that she wanted to die, she just… no longer wanted to feel the constant heavy weight in her chest. The only time she got a reprieve was when Draco would walk in the room on a good day, and give her a smile that reminded her of the boy she fell in love with. The boy she had watched Hermione Granger punch in their third year, the boy who had been full of such cocky and pompous attitude that had ran away crying when someone had actually shown him action instead of talk. Draco was always all talk. Just like when he used to promise her he would be faithful. He no longer did that.

The wind grew stronger as she hoisted herself up on the ledge of the railing. She began walking along it like a balance beam, her arms spread out to keep her balance. The urge to jump became stronger than before, and she focused on keeping her balance so that her intrusive thoughts wouldn't overcome her.

Tears slipped down her cheeks a hole caved through her chest. All she wanted was to be loved.

There were footsteps coming from inside the astronomy tower. She carefully got down from the railing, wiping her cheeks as Ginny Weasley burst through the door with a haggard look on her face.

"Mae, what the bloody hell are you doing here this late at night?" Ginny demanded, her eyes narrowing as she took in her hollow look and wet eyes.

"I could ask you the same." she responded, twirling her wand between her fingers.

"Ron told me they saw you up here," Ginny paused, her frown creasing her forehead. "Figured I would check on you. What the hell happened?"

"Draco and I.. got in a little argument."

"Over what?"

Mae bit her lip. She hadn't wanted to tell Ginny, as she knew that it would be harder for her to keep things together if Ginny knew.

Tell her, the voice whispered. Tell her, because it will be easier.

"He was, erm," she cleared her voice. "Cheating on me with Pansy again."

Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously, and her voice was hard and flat. "Again? How many times has he done this?"

She shrugged. There was no way she would tell Ginny she had kept track of each thirty seven times Draco had cheated on her. "Dunno."

"I'll kill him," said Ginny decisively. "I'll kill the prat."

"No, Ginny please," Mae pleaded, reaching out to grip the Gryffindor's robes. "I'm handling it! I just need to be better."

Ginny's mouth dropped open, and she gave Mae an incredulous look. "Mae, you're not the one at fault here. The slimy git bastard is the one who I should be hexing."

Mae shook her head furiously, tears sliding out. "No, you don't understand, I just need to change. I'm too soft, and he's just doing this so I'll be stronger for whatever is coming next-"

"Don't tell me you believe that rubbish!" Ginny shouted, this time gripping Mae's robes. "You are beautiful, you are smart, you are kind to a bloody fault, you are an amazing friend and I would never say that about any other Slytherin!"

"That doesn't mean I'm perfect!" Mae argued hotly, her frustration and sadness growing. "I may be all of those things, but at the end of it all I love him and I won't ever be good enough for him!"

She ended her shouting with a muttered cry, slumping into Ginny's open arms. "Why am I not good enough?"

"You are good enough, Mae," Ginny rubbed her back consolingly. "It's him who's not."

"That's the problem though, isn't it?" whispered Mae into Ginny's robes. "Everyone thinks he has no good, but me. I know he's good. He just needs to find himself again."

"You can't save everyone," replied Ginny softly, pulling away and cupping Mae's face with her hands. "You will wake up one day, and realize you've had enough. You're too young to have your life tied together with someone who will never see your worth."

Mae shrugged. This was why she was hesitant to tell Ginny. She knew that the wise witch would say something so absolutely truthful and clever that it would make her think of her situation in a different light.

"I think I need to sleep now."

Together they walked back through the castle, splitting apart for Mae to head downstairs to the Slytherin common room. She trudged her feet along, taking her time as she entered the thick door. Upon entering, she headed straight to her room she shared with Astoria and Daphne Greengrass, and Marissa Blackwoods. The other girls were fast asleep, Daphne's loud snoring filling the air, and Mae found it easy to settle in her bed. What she found difficult was attempting to sleep

Ginny's words kept spinning around her head. You'll wake up one day, and realize you've had enough. The only problem was, Mae couldn't imagine her life without Draco. Sure, he made her upset and made her not like her life. But he was comforting in the sense that he was familiar, she had spent nearly three years with him. That was such a long time, could she really give all that up just on the off chance that she would be happier without him?

One day, you'll realize you've had enough.

Part two

Part three