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lizzieisright · 2 months

Note

omega abs ? 😣

oh my fucking god yes

female alpha!reader x omega!abby

Palestine: what can you do

Summary: Abby is sure she will never meet her dream alpha after what happened with Owen. And then she meets you.

Tags: dead dove: do not eat. a/b/o universe (female alphas have dicks), modern AU, descriptions of smut (heats/ruts), Owen is a piece of shit, reader is a sweetheart. Also I'll always make Ellie and Abby friends because their dynamic cracks me up every time.

Notes: this one is genuinely weird in terms of my writing style. It's 6k long for no reason except that I wanted to see how everything will play out and build some kind of omega!abby lore. Also it was meant as a bullet point thingy like hcs, but then it got too long, so the sentences might sound weird.

If you guys want something specific with omega!abby, reqs are open.

Me: *slaps the title of the fic* this bad boy can fit a whole multichapter in it.

/-/-/-/-/-/-

There's one thing Abby knows for certain when she turns 19: she is not a typical omega.

Abby's scent is not too sweet: she smells more like fresh roses than vanilla. All other omegas have more prominent scents, and Abby sees how alphas favour them. She is insecure about her scent, and she is not too prideful to admit she wants alphas to like her. Like any other omega Abby feels pressured by society to look a certain way - and she is already tall, so she starts going to the gym to get fit, to look more attractive, to grow that bubble butt everyone's talking about. She just started university and she wants to be cool.

(Ellie tells her it's all bullshit. Ellie is her biggest supporter and she is the one who growls at other alphas when it's needed. It's hilarious, because Ellie is fucking tiny. "I'm still an alpha, Anderson!" Ellie whines usually and Abby flicks her forehead.)

The gym works: she gets more attractive. Her butt is round, her arms are toned and her shoulders balance her hips, making her waist look thinner. Abby meets Owen and she thinks he is the one. He is the first alpha she spends her heat with. And well, maybe it's not how she imagined it would be, but Abby doesn't complain. After all, perfect alphas only exist in books and movies, not in reality.

(she dreamt about feeling safe and protected with her alpha, feeling loved and taken care of. Owen is all growls and bruises.)

Ellie hates Owen's guts. There's always some sick smell when they're in the same room, and Abby is doing all she can to manage it and make two of the most important alphas in her life like each other. Owen tries to convince Abby that alphas and omegas can't be friends - and it works. Abby stops spending too much time with Ellie, tricked into thinking that Ellie actually has feelings for her. Ellie lets it happen.

(Owen is so much more violent during ruts. Abby knew this too: alphas are ruthless in ruts, but she didn't expect being borderline assaulted. Again, she doesn't complain. She is in love, and Owen knows better.)

Abby keeps going to the gym, and in time her muscles grow and show more. Abby is happy - she put so much work into her body and it shows now! She is so much stronger now, and she doesn't mind that her waist is not so tiny anymore. Abby feels powerful.

Owen, however, gets grumpier with every pound of muscle on Abby's body: he doesn't like it. He doesn't support her when she shows how much progress she made.

Then he starts joking about it. He tells her it makes her look less like omega. That she is almost as big as he is. That people won't be able to tell who is the alpha in their relationship. Abby swallows everything and starts doing more cardio. She wants Owen to be happy. She wants to be his mate one day.

And then one day Abby catches Owen with another omega.

She is small and smells like coconut, she is everything Abby isn't.

Abby wants to die.

Abby calls Ellie for the first time in months, sobbing violently. Ellie picks her up and spends the night soothing Abby, and the next day beating the shit out of Owen. Yes, she is tiny, but alpha strength is alpha strength, and Ellie is furious.

Abby doesn't really recover from this. She thought Owen would be her first and her last, but now her dreams and her self-esteem are in ruins.

Abby blames herself for Owen's cheating. She blames herself for building her body, for not being omegy enough, for having a weak scent, for not being what he wanted.

So Abby grows distant, believing she has no worth as an omega. She avoids alphas, she doesn't recognize when someone's interested. She doesn't let herself smell other people. The only alpha she still talks to is Ellie, because Ellie is Ellie. Her best goblin friend who doesn't even react to her heats, because she is so used to Abby.

(it actually breaks Abby's heart a little: is her scent so weak it doesn't affect alphas at all?)

Her younger brother, Lev, moves to the city for university when Abby is in her graduation year, and Abby puts her energy into taking care of him. She comes to his place from time to time, bringing food or snacks for him. They have movie nights as well. It makes Abby feel less alone. Less useless.

One day Lev asks her to come to the party with him: it's his first time going to a party and he has no idea what to do, especially since there'd be really cool people who are his seniors and he doesn't want to have an egg on his face.

"Can you ask Ellie to come as well? Please? I need more cool people on my side."

Abby laughs and makes sure Ellie is going to come. Ellie adores Lev, so she agrees immediately.

This party is on another level, Abby thinks. It's not frat bros and awful alphas like it was when Abby went to parties with Owen. This party looks like all smart and successful people in the uni decided to get piss drunk, and it is as cool as it is hilarious. Abby knows some of them - she waves at Nora and hugs Manny when he sees her: they're only people Abby kept in contact with after breaking up with Owen. They stopped being friends with him the moment they found out what happened.

Lev is very nervous. He clings to Abby's arm and she laughs kindly.

"Hey, relax. You're supposed to have fun."

"Yeah, I know." Lev says, a little irritated, but it makes Abby and Ellie laugh again.

Ellie takes everything in her hands and comes back with three beers, opening them for Lev and Abby. Abby chuckles at her typical alpha behaviour, but doesn't tease her. They share a drink, and Lev is still nervous, so Ellie takes him to the dance floor and he finally relaxes next to his second favourite person and his first favourite alpha.

Or so Abby thinks.

She watches another person come to them, and by the way Ellie tenses Abby guesses it's an alpha. Abby tenses too: the protectiveness kicks in.

But the alpha smiles and hugs Lev like Abby does: like if this alpha was Lev's older sister. They talk for a bit and then Lev points in Abby's direction. The alpha nods and waves at Abby. She waves back, confused.

And then this alpha makes her way to Abby.

Abby is caught off guard: the alpha is hot. She is also friendly judging by the smile and the way she treated Lev, and Abby can’t decide how to behave around her. She is not bitter after what happened with Owen, but she is definitely out of practice of talking with hot alphas.

You watch Lev's sister's face go through a variety of emotions, and it makes you chuckle - you too would be confused. But you want to meet her and make sure she knows Lev is taken care of: he is under your wing. He is a sweet kid, shy one, and you know how nervous he is about everything, so you want him to have this safety net.

"Hi!" You say cheerfully and give your hand for a handshake. You try not to think of how beautiful Lev's sister is, how much her blue eyes hypnotise you. She is fucking adorable, that what she is.

"Hi?" And her voice is soft too. You blink to clear your mind and tell her your name. You can’t smell her, but you’re pulled to her like a magnet.

"I'm Lev's student guide." Abby nods, not sure if she is okay with an alpha around her baby brother.

"I'm Abby, Lev's sister." You beam at Abby and she feels her stomach flutter. Abby quickly tries to kill the butterflies, but you seem so genuine. She can't smell you when there's so many people around, and maybe it's a good thing.

“Lev gave me your number as an emergency contact, and I just wanted you to know if an unknown number texts you that Lev is puking after doing beer pong, it will be me.” Abby can't help her chuckle: you do sound genuine. Abby feels like you really care about her brother and it makes her feel better.

Lev and Ellie come back and Abby looks at how Lev's face lights up when you smile at him. Oh no. He has a crush on you. It breaks Abby’s heart: she sees how you treat him like a baby brother, and Abby knows Lev has no chance. She also thinks if she looked like this when she met Owen, all star-struck and hopeful. At least you look like a better person.

Abby also feels how tense Ellie is around you. Another alpha thing, but this one is annoying - Ellie’s protectiveness is borderline territorial, so Abby glares at her. Ellie glares back, but some of the tension goes away.

You ruffle Lev’s hair and ask him to enjoy the party and find you if they need anything. Ellie only fully relaxes when you’re lost in the crowd.

“She is the coolest.” Lev tells them and Ellie huffs. “She always helps me around. Saved my ass a few times as well.”

“Well, kid, I don’t want you to get hurt by her, okay?” Ellie says and Lev blushes.

“Don’t worry, Ellie. I know nothing will happen.” Lev smiles. “She likes people on her level. Someone like you, Abby.”

Abby’s heart skips a beat in pain. There's no way an alpha like you would like an omega like her.

Or if there is, then there's something wrong with you and you shouldn't be around her brother.

“She doesn't seem too bad.” Ellie says almost through her teeth; she is as annoyed at her nature as Abby is, but she tries to have a clear head. “But if she hurts you, I'll kill her.”

Abby would laugh, but the image of Owen's bloody face and a broken wrist don't let her. It's a good thing he didn't press charges, too humiliated to admit he got his ass kicked for cheating.

Abby forgets about you until she is getting ready to sleep tonight. She puts her palm under her cheek, blissfully unaware, and takes a breath that is full of your scent. It shakes her, having an alpha scent on her, and Abby can't control herself.

Abby's cheeks burn, her heart picks up speed. Her cunt throbs.

You smell amazing. It has an edge, like any other alpha’s scent, but it's not suffocating. Well no. It is, but it doesn't feel bad, it makes Abby bury her nose in her palm and take a deep sniff. It makes her feel safe.

And Abby is terrified. She can't like your scent. It's dangerous, she can't risk herself like this, it's stupid. Lev has a crush on you, for god's sake! And even if she could, you'd never look her way. You're a good alpha and good alphas like pretty, small, sweet smelling omegas. Not Abby.

She doesn’t know that she also left some of her scent on your palm. She doesn’t know you’ve been smelling it the whole night, addicted to the smell of fresh roses and memory of pretty blue eyes. She doesn't know that you struggle to control your eyes from changing to alpha red the whole time.

You're ready to claw walls after meeting the prettiest omega of your life that you know is sweet and kind and smart: Lev really can't shut up about his sister. It's fucking eating you alive.

And you have no idea when you'll meet her again, but then you remember that both of you are in the same university. So you start trying to figure out her schedule. You know she is a med student, so you take a chance at going to the library.

And you're not wrong: Abby is there, looking miserable as she takes her notes. Your instincts kick in and you try to think of a way to make her feel better, but you get your shit together: it would be creepy.

So you just walk over and ask to sit next to her. Abby is surprised, but she lets you anyway.

It's awkward. You both are trying to not inhale too much, but the scents are respectively addictive: you smell her fresh roses and she smells your spice and safety. You want to bury yourself in her neck and mark her, scent her, make her yours, but you push these thoughts away.

“How's Lev doing?” Abby asks, not being able to concentrate anymore. It's even more embarrassing that you both smell of attraction, but it doesn't really mean anything: it was proven to be an instinct thing, therefore not reliable in human society. It just makes everything awkward for everyone.

“He is excellent, honestly. He got interested in charity work and I think he will soon be cleared to volunteer at animal shelters.”

“Good. Thanks for looking after him. I don't want him to get hurt, you know?” Abby didn't mean to say this, but you catch the meaning of her words anyway. She can smell a faint hurt coming from you, but it's not big enough.

“I'll do whatever I can to make sure he is safe.” You promise Abby and her attraction grows. You blink, but get back into conversation, trying to find more about Abby.

Abby is.. reluctant. She is polite, but her answers are short, and you're not an idiot, you can take a hint, so you apologise for taking her time and go.

Abby watches you go and gets filled with sorrow. You seem so sweet, and it scares her. She can't understand what is your angle and why are you bothered with her. She is sad because she wants you to be bothered with her. She wants you to like her; but Abby's brain doesn't even entertain the idea of it. Plus, Lev is crushing on you, it would be absolutely unfair of her to like you.

The sour smell of sadness makes Ellie restless when she gets to the library half an hour later for their study session. She looks Abby over and tries to piece together what's wrong.

“Did something happen?”

Abby is also reluctant to tell Ellie, but she does it anyway. Ellie frowns the whole time, not pleased with another alpha upsetting her baby. Abby is quick to defend you and say that it's she who is the problem. Ellie kicks her under the table.

“You are not a problem. It's Owen in your head again! Let go of this asshole. There are better alphas than him, fuck, any decent alpha is better than him. Don't assume shit.” Ellie tells her and Abby nods.

Abby decides to try. Maybe at least she can make a friend. So the next time you see her in the library, she actually smiles at you.

You swallow. Hard. Abby is gorgeous.

So you sit next to her and surprisingly, the conversation flows so much better than the last time. You think she was just super busy back then.

Abby is so fucking oblivious it's not funny. She talks to you like she'd talk to Ellie: she doesn't believe your scent, convinced it's just nature and alphas are like this sometimes, so she is relaxed. You can be friends, she thinks. You're great and smell amazing, so you can be friends.

You're almost salivating the whole time. Abby is cute as fuck, and she is hot as fuck: she takes her hoodie off and stays in a tight crop top, and you ogle at her arms and shoulders. She is incredible.

“I know we've just met, but I can't leave without asking. Would you go on a date with me?”

Abby's scent spikes in surprise, and then anxiety. An awful, sick smell that makes you back off.

“Oh. Oh, I'm sorry.” You tell her, eager to get rid of this stench, to keep Abby calm and safe.

“Are you sure?” Abby asks, not really believing her ears.

“I mean, I really want to get to know you better.” You admit.

“Lev has a crush on you.” Abby blurts and you laugh kindly.

“I know. We talked about it with him. I don't let this stuff slide when it happens.” It makes Abby feel a little easier. “But if you're uncomfortable, I totally get it. I'd love to be your friend as well.”

“...I need to talk to Lev first.” Abby admits, her cheeks feel hot.

“Of course. Let me know then.” You smile sweetly, your scent is so full of attraction it's hard to find an excuse for it, so Abby just ignores it.

She smells excited now and you beam. “You’re so pretty.” You blurt before you can stop yourself, but Abby starts to smell so sweetly and her cheeks are rosy now, you feel on cloud nine.

“Thanks, I guess.” She says, shy, and you nod. You say your goodbyes and leave Abby to study.

Abby thinks she's gone insane. Or you've gone insane. There's no way you actually asked her on a date.

But Abby wants to go so much. She didn't admit it, but she was getting lonely, and then suddenly you came along and made her heart beat faster.

So she gains courage and talks to Lev. He gets sad, but not the sour kind, the faint lavender of regret.

“I told you she would like you.” Lev smiles and Abby hugs him, trying to comfort him. “She is good, I promise.”

“I'm sorry, Lev.”

“Don't be.” Lev chuckles and they spend the evening watching the movie.

Next day you text Abby to find out if everything worked out and she gives you a positive. You grin like an idiot the whole day and plan the date.

You don't get all romantic on your first date, since you feel like Abby might get anxious, so you two just go to a bar and have a game of pool.

It's perfect: you both are competitive, you get to see Abby bend down and you get to flirt a lot after a drink. Abby is wearing high waisted jeans and her bubble butt looks amazing in them. You don't know this, but Abby was desperate to make herself look more like an omega, and even if she couldn't hide her shoulders and biceps, she wanted to compensate for it, showing off her butt.

Abby is oblivious to your hungry eyes when she takes a hit, but you're struggling. Abby is sweet and she smells so fucking good. You're itching to touch her, but you keep yourself in check. So instead you compliment her. A lot.

Abby is flustered: no one ever talked to her like this. No alpha made it clear to her that they found her this attractive. But you keep your mouth running. “Your shirt looks so good on you.” “Sorry, I can't stop staring at your shoulders. They're very nice.”

Abby laughs at this one and feels more comfortable in her own skin. So she opens up. “My ex didn't like that I work out so much.” She chuckles, and you look at her in mock offence. It makes her laugh.

“What a fucking idiot. Only cowards don't appreciate muscle mommies.” You scrunch your nose and Abby laughs harder.

“God, what is this nickname?”

You get flustered and Abby feels all giddy. She didn't expect any alpha to get flustered, especially not because of her. “You know. When girls, especially omegas, build up a lot of muscles? People really dig it.”

“Do you?” Abby asks, coy, and she sees the red flash in your eyes. It makes her press her thighs together.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” You say and there's a hint of an alpha voice. Abby's chest is going to explode.

You don't kiss Abby properly tonight, instead opting to kiss her hand: you like her, and you don't want to rush it. Abby gets flustered and you can't help the spike in your scent that makes Abby's cheeks red.

(No, you don't get off on her scent when you come home.)

(No, Abby doesn't fuck herself on her fingers when she comes home, burying her nose into her palm where she can catch your scent.)

You both take it slow. You kiss her for the first time on your third date and Abby folds in your hands while you purr and knead her sides.

Abby starts spending more time at your place, where you just cuddle and watch something. You start catching her scent all around your apartment, and it's driving you crazy. You want Abby to be yours so desperately, but you make yourself think with your head and not with your dick, so you don't rush.

You're in your class when you get a call from Lev. You don't pick up the first one, but when he calls for the second time, you walk out of the class and take the call.

Lev is crying.

Turns out his heat came during his class and now he is scared of going home on his own. Your instincts kick in and you grab your shit at a lighting speed before storming to Lev. You text Abby while you're running, and then your mind shifts into protective mode.

It's hard being around an omega in heat: it's hard for the both of you. Lev clings to you while you wrap your arm around his shoulders and walk him from campus to his place. You know your eyes are red and you're low-key growling, but you keep comforting Lev.

“It's okay. I'll get you home, and Abby is going to be here, okay? I'll keep you safe, don't worry. You're doing great, just a little more, can you walk a little more for me?”

Your voice soothes Lev and you make it to his place where Abby is already pacing in worry.

She takes a look at you and her breath hitches. Your eyes are red and so hungry, Abby feels horny and sorry for you: she doesn't know how much willpower you need to keep your head straight when there's an omega in distress and in heat.

You both get Lev inside his apartment and you retreat to the kitchen while Abby takes care of Lev. She fusses around, gives him pills and sends him to take a shower. You sit straight, your firsts tight as you watch your girlfriend being all motherly. This mixed with the smell of heat makes you feral. It gets harder to control, especially when Abby stands in front of you, her gorgeous scent in your nose.

“How are you?” She asks, compassionately. And you grit your teeth.

“Can you-” You start with a growl and you smell Abby's arousal. “Fuck. Can you come here?” You pat your lap.

The moment Abby sits down you grab her and bury your nose in her neck, your arms are tight around her back. Abby yelps when you press her closer and her scent spikes with arousal, making you growl.

“I'm not- I'm not going to do anything. I just need a moment.” You growl and Abby swallows. Her arousal tickles your nose and you growl louder, pressing your nose closer to her scent glands.

Abby is so wet in her pants she is afraid she will leak on you, but she can't help it: you're usually so sweet, hiding your nature, and now you're acting so alpha-like, and it does things to her.

“Shit. We can't-” Abby's arousal gets mixed with anxiety and you want to sneeze to get it out of your nose.

“We're not doing anything. Not like this. I just need a redirection.” You take a deep inhale full of Abby's scent and you finally settle down. Your voice returns and you feel like you can control your eyes again. You ease your hold on Abby and the anxiety goes away. “Did I scare you?”

Abby is baffled. It's such a big contrast to how Owen treated her before, she is lost for words. You're worried if you sniffing her scared her while Owen didn't care if he left bruises.

The air gets filled with the smell of fresh bakery - the scent of love and affection - and you almost tremble under Abby in excitement.

“A little. I was worried if you'd stop.”

“I have excellent self-control, baby.” You wink at Abby and she slaps your bicep.

She moves a certain way that makes her pelvis move against yours and you grunt: the scent of Abby's arousal got you half-hard already, and you're kinda sensitive now.

Abby also feels it. She grows red and you giggle, kissing her cheek.

“Lev is going to be out of the shower soon, I should go.”

“Okay.” Abby gets up from her seat on your lap and you pout. “Do you want-” Abby shakes her head. It's a stupid idea.

“Do I want what?”

“Something with my scent?”

You swallow and nod. Abby stands for a second, thinking, and then just takes her shirt off, letting you see her in a bra. You see her small tits covered by her lacy bra and adjust your pants. She is so fucking hot and this is so not the time, but your cock twitches and gets harder with every second while you stare at the most beautiful omega in your life.

“You're a fucking menace.” You growl again and kiss Abby with hunger, the rumbling in your chest resonating in hers. Abby goes pliant and kisses you back.

It takes you two tries to get away from her, but Abby is so delicious it's insane.

You spend the evening in your apartment, getting off on Abby's shirt, fantasising about her going into heat and how you would take care of her and how good you would make her feel.

You're together for a few months now when Abby's heat comes. You can smell it on her the day before, when she is all whiny and tired, sleeping for the bigger part of the movie on top of you. Her usual rose scent is getting stronger.

“Are you close to your heat?” Abby hums in agreement and you swallow, staring at the ceiling. “Okay. I can smell it.”

“Oh.” Abby is surprised. She doesn't have a very prominent scent so she didn't expect you to notice. “Oh I didn't think you'd smell it.”

“Your scent is my fucking heaven, of course I would.”

Abby blushes. Deeply. And you feel her press her thighs together. It makes your dick twitch.

“I think it'll start tomorrow.”

“Do you want me to be with you?” You ask innocently and Abby chuckles. “I mean, we haven't done anything yet and I understand if you want to wait and have normal sex first. Well, if you even want to have se-”

Abby cuts you off with a kiss and you relax. “We can try normal sex now.”

And you do. It's slow and sweet and you both laugh when you bump heads and knees and when you have to fumble around for lube since you're messy, but it's perfect.

You're not aggressive, but you still growl and claw at Abby's soft thighs, and it's a perfect balance of care and pure animalistic want, and Abby feels wanted. She kinda wants to see your control break.

And then you dip down between her thighs and Abby yelps and pushes your head away, shy. “You don't have to-”

“I really fucking want to. But if you don't want me to, it's okay. I won't.”

“I've never done it before.” Abby admits, embarrassed. She asked Owen to do it once but he looked weirded out by her ask, so Abby felt ashamed to ask again. You stare at her in shock - a good-natured one - and Abby hides her face.

You slow down and get on her level again, gently moving her hand away. “Hey, it's cool. I didn't mean to belittle you, I just- you're so pretty and so gorgeous, who wouldn't want to go down on you?” Abby looks at you, so deeply touched by your care she feels her eyes water. She smells of love again and you giggle, burying your nose in her neck. “We don't have to do it.”

“I kinda wanna try.” Abby murmurs, smiling, and you beam at her.

“I'll go slow, okay? Tell me what feels good and what's not, yeah?”

That's how Abby ends up being eaten out for the first time. She loves the feeling of your mouth on her and how your fingers curl inside her. She loves how your eyes gradually become alpha red the closer she is to cumming.

She comes down from her high and looks at you, half naked and red-eyed, like a predator you're meant to be, and her cunt throbs.

Abby rides you until you're a grunting mess under her as she massages your tits and clenches around you. You growl, but you don't grab her or hurt her, just let her have fun, and Abby is so fucking happy.

“I can't wait to spend my heat with you.” Abby moans and you cum immediately, filling her up.

This time Abby gets to feel safe and taken care of during her heat as you attend her every whim, every request, from “cum inside me” to “I really want some chocolate ice-cream”. You do everything, and Abby can't be happier. She texts Ellie as much when you're out to get her ice-cream and Ellie just sends vomiting emojis.

Of course then she tells Abby she is happy for her and that she is going to be a best woman at your wedding.

Abby doesn't want to admit, it scares her, but she wants to be your mate one day.

You come back not only with chocolate ice-cream, but with some junk food as well. Abby can't help but to drop to her knees right in the hallway.

You also help Abby recover after the heat, bringing her snacks and letting her nap every chance you can, and Abby knows she is in love with you. She doesn't even need to tell you: she constantly smells of love and lust around you now, but she decides to do it anyway.

You're balls deep in her while she pinches your nipples and nibbles at your scent glands, making you whimper in her ear. “Fuck, you feel so good around me.”

“I love you.” Abby says sweetly and you shudder on top of her, and Abby feels how your cock twitches when you cum. Abby feels your fangs scraping her scent glands and she cums too, milking you.

“Fuck, baby, shit! I love you too, I love you so fucking much, shit-” You pant and Abby grins.

Abby likes making a mess out of you.

For some insane reason, Abby's excited for your rut. She didn't like spending ruts with Owen, but you're so gentle and patient, Abby is sure she'll be okay.

Your rut comes after a month after Abby's heat. Abby likes how possessive you get in pre-rut, even though you start growling at Ellie, which doesn't end well with Ellie's explosive temper. You get along well any other time, but the constant stare down irritates Ellie to the point when she tells Abby, “go fuck the crazy out of your alpha, she is so fucking annoying. Yeah, you.” Ellie stares at you while you tug Abby closer on your lap, scenting her. “Oh my god, get a fucking room. I know Abby is like, your Jesus or whatever, but it's too much.”

Abby just giggles and enjoys how your growling changes to purring. Abby turns to you and cradles your face. “My alpha.” She murmurs and Ellie groans.

“I fucking hate you guys.”

“Not our fault you fell in love with another alpha, Ellie.” You chuckle.

“Fuck off.” She growls and two if you laugh.

Abby stays at your place and you get to fall asleep with her in your arms.

On the next day you wake up with a heavy head. You're already hard and Abby is right there, soft and sleeping. You think about how her wet hot pussy feels around your cock and your pheromones spike up so high Abby wakes up.

She can tell right away that you're in rut. Your scent is suffocating. It's not soft, safe suffocating scent that Abby likes, it's the one that gets stuck in her nose and makes her cunt clench around nothing. She wants nothing more than to get on her fours and present herself for you - this is how much power you have over her.

“My rut-”

“Yes, I-”

“If you don't want to be here, I think I can hold off for 10 minutes and let you leave.” You growl and it only turns Abby on.

So she does what she wants - she gets on her knees, her cunt right in front of your face, and arches her back.

“Knot me, baby.”

All your restraints break. You're rough and you make Abby take everything: if she is not cumming on your cock, she is cumming on your fingers as you fuck your cum back into her, or she is sitting on your face. Abby struggles to keep up with you, since she is not in heat, but she can't wait to take your knot, and she tells you as much. You growl and fuck her harder, feeling your release building up. Abby is so pretty under you, covered in marks, her tits red from your mouth. She spreads her legs and you pin her thighs by her sides, watching your cock disappear in her pretty little pussy. You finally push your knot into Abby and she whimpers, tries to adjust to your size, but you rub her clit and she clamps on you.

“Mine. My omega. My girl.” You growl loudly while Abby clenches around your knot, thrashing on the bed. It's too much pleasure and she knows you're far from done.

And Abby is right. You make her cum on your knot four other times, and only after she makes you cum again - which means she cums st least three times more - you give her a break. You're still sweet, but now it's possessive sweetness. You don't let her do anything, bathing and feeding her, but she is so exhausted she doesn't even notice.

“I wanna nap.” Abby tells you when she is snuggled against your chest. It's a small break before you would get horny again.

“You should. You did so well.” Abby giggles and nuzzles your neck.

“Don't wait if you get horny again. It would be a nice way to wake up.”

“I fucking love you.”

“You better. You're my alpha. It's a requirement.”

“You call me your alpha again and you're not napping, babe. Go the fuck to sleep.” You kiss her forehead and Abby laughs.

Abby doesn't know if it's luck or destiny, but this time she is sure: you are the one for her.

(and she is right.)

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson #omega!abby #written on a knee

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qingxin-dream · 2 years

Text

As the World Falls Down

a/n | this is partially inspired by one of my fav scenes in the 1986 movie labyrinth, i just really love the imagery and bowie’s song (literally the title haha). always got me daydreaming🥰 hope you enjoy!! (art credits: @/myu-chan on deviantart)

warnings | poisoning, suffocation, profanity, hallucinations, reader wears a dress, implied death, crying, vague references to scara lore, not really proofread it’s 1am

genre | angst, romance

word count | 2.6k

pairing | scaramouche x reader

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“I found some mushrooms and berries,” you announced upon returning to camp, a hand-woven basket tucked into the nook of your elbow.

“Good. We can have fowl with it too,” stated your nonchalant traveling partner, the rogue Balladeer, who nods. His eyes were lost in the growing flames of the fire he was tending to, not caring to spare you a glance as you take seat next to him to sort through your basket.

An amusing thought crossed the puppet’s mind and past his lips with haste, “It’s not poisonous, is it?”

The crackling of the fire grew louder amid the absence of your answer, reaching up to the darkening sky in a flurry of hot ash. After flipping a log over in the campfire, Scaramouche begrudgingly looked over at you, annoyed and prepared to chew you out for ignoring him. “Hey, what are you—”

“Sc-Scara… c-can’t—” you struggled to put words together as suddenly a dense fog settled over your mind. Eyelids unbearably heavy and jaw becoming slack, your consciousness was fading rapidly.

“(Y/N)?” his voice nearly cracks out of surprise, lunging toward you to catch you as your limp body collided with the ground. A single purple mushroom tumbled away from your grasp when you collapsed, the mark of your teeth engraved on the cap of the little fungus.

Scaramouche tried to shake you out of your delirium to no avail. He cradles you closer in his arms, curses pouring over his lips in a panicked state, trying to find your pulse. “Fuck, fuck… idiot, how could you be so careless!”

His fingers against your dainty wrist did not feel a thing. You weakly rolled your head toward the frantic puppet, it seemed you were blissfully unaware of how the puppet was scrambling to save you. A glittery haze swirled ominously behind your eyes—you certainly weren’t lucid—almost as if you were admiring the man holding you tightly on your deathbed.

Grazing the back of his index finger along your neck, you were still warm to the touch. It wasn’t until Scaramouche placed an ear against your chest did he hear the faint thump of your heartbeat and feel the rise of your rib cage as you breathed slowly.

You were still alive, but who knows for how long? He cursed once more, scanning over your features frantically. You no longer fought against the wave of drowsiness crashing over you, eyelids beginning to close and the small smile disappearing from your lips.

“H-Hey! Are you listening? What the hell did you eat?” the puppet growled, lightly slapping your face awake. Your eyelashes fluttered momentarily, but it was evident you weren’t comprehending anything that was happening. “Where is it? Don’t you dare close your eyes, (Y/N), I swear.”

Scaramouche recklessly searched through your basket of foraged items, tossing aside every last godforsaken wild flower, mushroom, and berry you worked so hard to collect. Looking you over, a small sparkle caught his eye.

A violet little shroom, glimmering under the setting sun, sat half-eaten on a patch of dirt next to you. It sported a mesmerizing pattern, twisting and contorting into the strangest unrecognizable shapes. His eyes trailed them through and through, a deceptively beautiful tango that drew him closer and closer with promises of pleasure, but what lurks beneath the surface of such an alluring potion?

A comforting warmth spreads across the puppet’s cheek, snapping him from his thoughts. You were cupping his cheek, half-lidded irises glistening with the reflection of a faraway realm. Scaramouche blinked.

“Where did you go?”

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The echo of a grand piano was just within earshot, weaving a gentle melody so lovely your ears would happily weep if they could. A few string instruments join in, a sweet violin contrasted with a deeper cello sound, if only you could find them. Light laughter swirled about, amid the clink of wine glasses and romantic whispers.

Pulling the lavishly purple curtain back, you are faced with the extravagant ballroom packed with guests. Each of them exuded pristine elegance in their magnificent, jet-black suits adorned with freshly bloomed flowers. It was a sight to behold, truly, with their faces masked behind brilliantly intricate Fatui-esque designs, boasting tall feathers or shiny rhinestones.

As they led their beautiful partners draped in pastel ballroom dresses and the finest jewelry, something was familiar about them yet no one appeared to recognize you. Was it the soft white Cecilia clipped to the raven-haired musician plucking away at the harp? Or the exquisite Glaze Lily on the tall gentleman nearby whose ponytail faded to a golden caramel hue?

The ebb and flow of the dance pushed you to and fro, distracting you from your thoughts. It was difficult to weave through the crowd, you find it quite suffocating with no exit is in sight. Then, without warning, a small clearing was made as the guests silently danced around you and the lone man who stepped into your path.

His mask was unlike the others: an angelic shade of white that shimmered like gold under the chandelier, dotted with tiny diamonds beneath the eyes in the shape of a tear. Deep indigo locks of hair perfectly framed his face, and as your doe-like eyes took in his ethereal form you noticed his boutonnière was unique—a vibrant, wine-red dendrobium rested upon his breast pocket.

He lowered the mask, yet no one seemed to pay any mind as they swayed to the surrounding symphony. Your jaw dropped in shock, the act of revealing his identity like breaking a sacred oath. Twinkling lavender irises rested on you, drinking in your immaculate visage dolled up in an exquisite, lacy ball gown that rivaled the purest snow on Dragonspine.

You were utterly and completely awestruck, lips parted but words would never take form.

It was him—Scaramouche in the flesh.

He approached you, leaning in until he lingered but a few inches away. You swear by the Archons if someone had said he was ambrosia incarnate you would have believed them without question. It was intoxicating, the way he made your cheeks burn with warmth and searched your eyes endlessly as if it were truly the window to your soul.

His hands delicately brushed against your waist, moving to guide you into the rhythm of the crowd. Your arms wrap around his neck, just as lost in him as he was within you. The mesmerizing serenade of the orchestra drowned out any banter around you, and you felt safe in his hold.

Your voice softly broke through to him, “Who are you?”

An amused hum escapes his lips. Scaramouche gazed at you with adoration, pulling you closer against his torso like he never wanted to let you go. His husky voice answered into your ear, “Who do you think I am?”

You bit your lip. Part of you had secretly dreamed of Scaramouche returning your feelings one day. All of this felt too good to be true. Was this reality? Would he embrace you like this? Would he—

“(Y/N),” he quietly chastised, seeing you lost in thought. Strands of violet hair tickled your face when his nose brushed yours, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at his lips that were so close to meeting your own. You could hear his breath hitch, a tint of pink dusting his cheeks. “Tell me what you think of me.”

“I-I don’t know what you mean,” you nervously replied, averting your eyes as the butterflies in your stomach began to become unbearable under the weight of his affectionate and alluring gaze. “And why does it matter? You never cared about what other’s think anyway.”

“You are correct, but… you aren’t like the others, now are you?” Scaramouche smirked, a glint of mischief flickering across his features before pulling away to twirl you around.

As you returned to him, dress flourishing in tandem, you flash him a sly smile. “Well, if you must know, I do think of you fondly when you are away.”

“And what of when you are here with me?” he teased, joining the two of you at the hip again. He could practically hear his heart pounding, desperate to leap out of his chest. Scaramouche tucks a loose tuft of hair behind your ear, whispering into it once more, “You are in the presence of a god, after all. It only takes three words and I am yours.”

An insatiable rush of heat flusters your face at such a proposition. Your hand cupped his cheek and you caressed it with your thumb, committing his every perfect curve and edge to memory, as if confirming he was real and not made of paper mâché. He leans into your touch lovingly, a prince hopelessly enamored by this chance encounter.

This was really Scaramouche, and he wanted you. He chose you. In what world would you possibly deny him?

The sweet sound of the string quartet marked the end of the musical piece, drawing your attention as the crowd fell to a low hush awaiting the beginning of the next song.

When you turned to answer him, he disappeared. You flicked your head around, searching the ballroom for his face, his mask, his unusual violet hair, anything that resembled his unmistakable aura—but ultimately found naught. The guests spared disapproving looks at you through their masks, though you couldn’t discern if it was pitiful or mocking.

Your adrenaline began to kick in, not caring to push through the crowd just for the opportunity to catch a fleeting glimpse of Scaramouche’s beautiful mask. The orchestra began to play faster, heightening your sense of anxiety as guests moved in tune and nearly fought against you.

Was it something you said? Was he no longer satisfied with you? Were you just a plaything to him and nothing more?

Finally, you broke through the edge of the crowd and found yourself face-to-face with a distorted mirror of the room. Your reflection curved and blurred as if the ballroom itself was contained in an iridescent bubble. You were wrong. So horribly wrong.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the electrifying stare of Scaramouche watching you from the outskirts of the crowd. Your skin crawled with goosebumps once you noticed he was sauntering toward you, mask covering his expression.

You had to find a way out of this nightmare. Grabbing a chair from a nearby table, you held it above you, prepared to burst out of this false dream.

Suddenly a firm hand gripped your wrist painfully tight and yanked you away from the mirror, causing you to fall backwards into the perpetrator. Scaramouche growled in anger through his teeth, “I won’t let you do this. You can’t abandon me!”

“You lied to me!” Wriggling under him, you attempted to pull away with the chair but he was too strong. He ripped the chair out of your hands, toppling you over on the floor helplessly. You scrambled to stand up, carelessly tearing through the frills of your dress with your heels.

Scaramouche threw the chair aside and reached for your arm again, this time pleading with you, tears pricking his pretty red-lined eyes. “(Y/N), please. I’ve turned this world upside down and I’ve done it all for you. Stay here with me. Devote yourself to me. It’s all I ask.”

You hesitate at the sound of desperation evident in his voice, looking back at him one more time. He had lost his ephemeral sheen, hair tousled and scattered messily across his pale face. He was hanging on to your every word, hoping you would reconsider an eternity in paradise with him. It hurt to see how sad of a state he was reduced to, begging you to be with him.

He was right. This was everything you wanted—an endless night in his arms as lovers, but this was not how it was meant to be.

“I’m sorry,” you hoarsely choked back tears, smashing the mirror into a million pieces.

Infinitely small shards reflected the horrified look of betrayal on Scaramouche’s face as the dream was lost to space.

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You woke to the sound of crickets and a crackling fire. A cool, wet rag sat on your forehead, contrasting the warmth of the campfire and causing you to scrunch your nose as you stirred. Your heart raced when you were squeezed by the shoulders into someone’s chest, wet drops falling on you.

“Hm?” you mumbled against the fabric of their clothes, resting your hand against the left side of their chest. After a moment, you realized this person lacked a heartbeat. Your eyes shot open. “Scara… mouche?”

Your eyes took a moment to adjust, eventually focusing on the man who was cradling you close and gently rocking you back and forth. His divine features were contorted into despair, eyelashes speckled with the glistening residue of his tears. You spoke up again, “Scaramouche, what happened?”

“I thought you fucking died, that’s what happened.”

Oh. Your memory proved to be fuzzy—you remembered foraging for dinner, picking all kinds of edible berries and mushrooms. You remember returning to camp, but trying to think of anything beyond that worsened your headache. Were you attacked?

“How long have I been out?” you asked apprehensively.

Scaramouche swallowed thickly, hollow eyes wandering up your form to meet yours. It was gut-wrenching, he was never this vulnerable—this exposed—with you. “Six hours.”

He told himself he would never allow foolish mortal feelings to defile his heart again long ago, but you had gotten under his skin more than he realized. You sunk your claws into his heart so easily, so readily, and he was complacent in it. Maybe part of him wanted to believe it would be different despite his deep-rooted cynicism.

When you passed out cold and lifeless, you might as well have gored his heart right out of his fragile puppet body.

Scaramouche wanted you to, for all of the self-hatred, regret, love, and mourning he felt over you eating a stupid purple mushroom.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered shamefully, gripping his robe in your fist. You really fucked up this time. Had he held you the whole time, wishing you would come to or saying his goodbyes? The thought welled hot tears in your eyes.

He gave you a bewildered look, appalled by your pathetic apology. “I should kill you.”

“I would understand.”

The puppet had enough. After suffering in the depths of darkness and despondency for hours thinking you had succumbed to your mortality, Scaramouche could bear it no longer. You were alive, your heart was beating, and you were breathing—you were in his grasp once more and he wouldn’t dare waste this newfound chance with you.

“To hell with it,” he swore with a hasty whisper ghosting your pink lips, cupping your cheek softly, taking in how beautiful you looked in the moonlight even as you laid ill. “I love you, (Y/N), and don’t you dare do this to me again.”

Scaramouche brushed his chapped lips, salty with the remnants of his tears, against yours, relishing in the sensation of how plush and warm you felt. He rubbed his thumb over your cheekbone and down your jaw delicately like you could break underneath him at any moment. His hand trembled slightly on your skin, prompting you to hold his palm to your face to quell his fears.

When you moved your lips and pressed further into him, reaching up to lace your fingers in his hair, he swiped his tongue to ask permission before deepening the kiss. You tenderly smiled, greeting his tongue with your own. Scaramouche treated you with the utmost reverence, dedicating himself to tasting every saccharine drop you would offer.

He poured his heart into you until you were desperate for air and had to break away, much to his dismay. You were more than addicting. Indulging in you was beyond euphoric, to feel complete and whole at last was indescribable.

Recovering your breath, you huffed out a contented laugh and sealed your fate with one more peck on his lips. “I love you too.”

For the first time in hundreds of years, the puppet genuinely smiled, interlacing his fingers with yours.

“So… what did you dream of after you ate that mushroom?”

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist

#[opulent dreams].✿#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact fatui #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin kunikuzushi #kunikuzushi x reader #genshin wanderer #wanderer x reader

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mastermindmiko · 9 months

Text

Drunk (Prologue)

Pairing: George Weasley + OC

Word count: 794

Warnings: Slapping, let me know if there's anything else

an: as promised, and as chosen by the poll, this is the George Weasley fic. this is just the prologue, so there's many more chapters to come.

My masterlist

Part two

tell me if you want to be apart of the tag list for this series in the comments

Requests are open

The Lore family was one of the most prejudiced pureblood families in the entire wizarding world. The entire family were Slytherins and Juliette Lore, the youngest of the family, was one as well.

She couldn’t help but notice how surprised her parents were when she told them the news, but she assumed that they were proud. Shocked of course, she could see the way her father’s eyes nearly went out of their sockets at the news, but pleased, or at least she hoped so.

The Lore family consisted of 4 people; the father, Henry Lore, the mother, Christina Lore and the eldest child, Tristan Lore and Juliette.

Henry Lore had dark black hair and looked nothing like his age, he was almost Fifty, but he didn’t look a day over thirty two. He worked at the ministry alongside Lucius Malfoy; and he forced his family to eat dinner with the Malfoys every Friday in the summer.

He expected only the best from everyone around him, he could not handle chaos or change, and he could sometimes be the cruellest person in the world, at least in Juliette’s opinion.

Christina Lore was a brunette with highlights. Highlights that she swore to everyone that they were real and with her since birth. Juliette knew that her mother was lying since every month she would hear her mother make appointments on the phone to touch them up.

Christina, unlike Henry, looked exactly her age and maybe even a little bit older. She is forty five years old and is best friends with Narcissa Malfoy, a forced relationship after multiple dinners. Some people (meaning Juliette) would say that she and Narcissa should switch names because as she always says ‘if anyone is the true narcissist it’s my mother.’

Tristan Lore was two years older than Juliette and a seventh year. He was the preferred child as he would say and as most people would say, and as his parents made it clear every night at dinner. He was one of the prefects, but had lost in gaining the title of head boy. He was charismatic and had dark hair and blue eyes that seemed to make every female fall to her knees at the sight of him.

Juliette Lore was born in 1980, and a fifth year prefect. She had brown hair, a shade that’s unlike any of her other family members and had hazel eyes. She was a snarky, quick witted teenager and was the complete opposite of her entire family.

She’s the disappointment.

Juliette Lore was adopted and even though she knew that fact her parents refused to tell her who her real parents were. She doubted that they even wanted to tell her that she was adopted, considering that she found out the news like this;

Juliette had sat on the train of her ride back home from third year with the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan. She wanted to talk about quidditch considering how obsessed she is with the sport but was not allowed to play. Her mother had told her that it was unlady-like, and even though she was not convinced; she wasn’t going to go against her mother’s wishes.

At first the Gryffindors were hesitant to talk with the girl considering her family and her house, but after a few mere moments spent with her, they realised that she was unlike anyone from her house, and to them, that was a good thing.

After the most fun train ride she ever had, her parents seeing who she was exiting the train with, they became furious. Her mother was far less composed than her father. While she could see her mother’s fist clenching and her nostrils flaring, the only hint of anger she could see off her father was from his eyes.

Fred and George had bid her farewell with a kiss from each of them on each of her cheeks and started calling her Snidget. As the snitch was invented from a reference of the Snidget bird.

When Juliette returned to the mansion she was immediately greeted with a slap on her right cheek from her mother, and several insults from her father. Her father kept muttering about how they never should’ve taken her in and then out of frustration they accidentally told her that she was adopted.

She had after a year questioned them about her parents and they refused to say a word and only told her their blood. Which was pure; that fact helped her with nothing as she already knew that Henry and Christina Lore would have never taken a non pure-blood. However, in some way, not being her parent’s child made her relieved.

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sanctus-ingenium · 1 year

Text

answering your asks in one big post because you sent so many of them (update: added 2 more that just got sent)

hi guys. what the fuck

in plain text so i don't have to type out a million image IDs

Anonymous asked: "I am obsessed with your metal beasts and lore!! The designs are *chef's kiss* gorgeous and inspired and if you were to ever make print versions of the kinda diagram-like side view pieces of them I'd slap that stuff all over my walls ❤️❤️"

Answer: I'd have to pretty them up a LOT to get them print ready. But I think it would be cool to do a blueprint style version kind of like old diagrams of machinery with additional embellishments

like this (source)

Anonymous asked: "have you ever posted any art of the dragons you've mentioned before? im really curious ab them"

Answer: I've posted sketches. I have trouble drawing diagrams because I am STILL torn between radial and bilateral symmetry... i know it should be radial but in my heart I prefer bilateral. So I'm thinking maybe it is radial but with a pseudo-bilateral look. It's definitely on my to-draw list

Anonymous asked: "just wanna pop in and say i love all your worldbuilding its so creative and fun, but as a dragon lover i ESPECIALLY adore your weird and funky dragons. i think its so cool when people push the boundaries on what a dragon can be (that versatility is a big part of their appeal to me in the first place) and your take is one of the most fun ive seen in a while"

Answer: as a marine biologist, I-

the dragons came after the beasts. I wanted to give them a reason for existing and 'knights fighting dragons' evokes such a great retro fantasy vibe that i loved it. The reason Pantera is a leopard (and not any other kind of big cat) is because in medieval bestiaries, leopards were said to fight dragons using their 'sweet breath'. You can see where I went with it. But dragons in these bestiaries have such variable appearances and can be virtually anything, like you said they're so versatile. For the people in this setting, the most they ever really see of dragons are the legs, tendrils, and the massive beak (which is mineralised like the pen of a squid). It's a creature really too big to comprehend, so they depict it in their diagrams as a bird-headed creature with wings and a back end made of serpents. but you can always tell in these illustrations whether the artist has actually seen a dragon in person.. because they won't draw it like this:

@our-tiny-hotel asked: "where did you get the idea/inspiration for these stories?"

Answer: for mez, i like zoids, retro fantasy, speculative biology, and stories which explore themes of religion and its role in highly gendered systems of oppression (lbr it is fantasy catholicism. that's right... this is also a story about gender)

for inver: fairies man

Anonymous asked: "is nosewyse a dog? i cant find anything about it on your blog"

Answer: You can find Nosewyse here. He's the smallest Holy Beast and by far the most pathetic

@raskies456 asked: "Re: your tags on the Taurus art, how DO the smiths manufacture such massive single plates of metal?"

Answer: I'm going to draw some diagrams to explain but basically the theocratic empire sits on a massive wealth of iron ore so there's no shortage of it. Smiths can manipulate metallic elements using the dialogue tattoos on their palms - Mercury and Mars are the titles for enginesmiths and armoursmiths respectively. Enginesmiths use mercury because it doesn't interact with incandescent dragonsblood, and it's a liquid metal which in alchemical theory is Pure and extremely close to gold (free of sin u might say). The quicksilver is used to manipulate the insides of a working engine without having to physically touch it. Armoursmiths work on iron, but here's the issue: solid metal won't budge. It needs to be softened or liquid for the dialogues to have any effect. So the armoursmith teams are blacksmiths who heat up these mass amounts of iron using dragonsblood furnaces until the iron is malleable, and then in teams of 50 or more they slowly and painstakingly stretch and shape it into the desired form. that's how they make armour plating for Holy Beasts. The use of dialogue tattoos isn't like psychic telekinesis, but more like playing an instrument where the position of each finger has to be perfectly accurate in 3D space to produce the desired effect. it's a very physical job and incredibly skilled. Taurus's barge took decades to construct and thousands of workers.

Anonymous asked: "are you ever going to publish the book are you are writing"

Answer: maybe. the idea of traditional publishing doesn't appeal to me. might just be a "buy this pdf on itch.io" sort of deal

Anonymous asked: "Hi, im new here. I hope this isn't rude, but from what i can tell the gist here is that medieval people dug up what i can only assume are the still-living skeletons of otherworldly beings or perhaps demons and went "Wouldn't it be cool if we put flamethrowers in these guys and rode them to war" and then they do that thanks to jellyfish ooze from giant violent sky jellyfish?"

Answer: I can neither confirm nor deny (yes but also nooot quite ;))

Anonymous asked: "Jowd you learn how to draw machines? Is it hard to draw all the Bits on those mechazords in the correct place when theyre like jumping and run ing and shit?"

Answer: I learned a lot from building zoids, putting them together, watching them move etc etc. At the same time, it's also sort of basic anatomy too? Your hinged elbow joint is a mechanism and if you just made the same joint in metal it would work the same way. But ALSO when i draw them, I follow the ref sheets for big parts but mostly bullshit the details because who give a shit at the end of the day if I put a screw wrong, no one's going to care

Anonymous asked: "Idk if this helps you at all but on r/zoids on the Dreaded Reddit people talk about 3d printed zoids so maybe you can get your zoids that way"

Answer: I am a member of r/zoids lol... that sounds really cool though. I've never seen a 3D printer in real life before tho. But I can't be out here getting more zoids when I have had my HMM command wolf half-constructed for literally over a year because I keep procrastinating on it

Anonymous asked: "A lot of libraries have 3d printers and some people will like. Hire theirs out so people can print stuff"

Answer: Not in Ireland they don't

Anonymous asked: "Is it illegal to make beaft ocs".

Answer: I'm not a cop and my main stance is: do what you want, I can't stop you. If you would like to design a mech animal using medieval bestiary aesthetics - go for it, it's fun. However, why does it have to play by my setting rules? Wouldn't you prefer to make something wholly belonging to yourself? You can invent a million new ways to use this sort of mech design in a story with a whole new setting, all yours. It just won't be one of mine or in my setting.

Anyway you couldn't make a beaft oc in my setting anyway because you don't even know what they are or how they work

#you are all so thirsty for beafts #info asks #setting: mez #anon is now off over xmas

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writernopal · 10 months

Text

OC Name Meaning Tag

Tagged by @sam-glade here! Thank you so much!

We'll do this for the main cast of AASOAF! Generally speaking, coming up with names falls into one of three categories: slapping my keyboard to see what comes out, adapting some kind of existing name to fit the lore/language of the story, or misspelling the one I picked and then just sticking with the misspelled version LOL. Very rarely do I choose something intentionally or with a lot of meaning.

Tagging (gently): @liv-is @lorenfinch @outpost51 @writingmaidenwarrior and @writinglittlebeasts

Mariel Elodie Frère

Mariel: “star of the sea/drop of the sea/bitter/beloved”

Believe it or not, this was not intentional. She gave me M-vibes and I also didn’t have very many names at the time that started with the letter M so I googled “female names that start with m” and I really liked this one. However as AASOAF took shape, she started to fit her name very aptly, because in a lot of ways she’s Axtapor’s guiding light. She’s also described as plain and unassuming and has quite a tragic story so I think she fits the meaning of this name pretty well.

Elodie: “foreign riches”

Intentional. In the original telling, Mariel doesn’t have a middle name. Axtapor gives her one because he thinks it’s weird that she doesn’t have one (all lizards have middle names) and this is the one he chooses for her. His reasoning behind it is that she is his treasure, they are also not the same race/species hence the foreign part. In the canon version, I decided to give her this middle name from the get-go.

Frère: “brother/friar/monk”

Half and half. I wanted a French-sounding last name (to keep consistent with the Narenese language) and I liked this one because it has an accent haha. Its also fitting for her because she is quite religious and is part of a religious group.

Axtapor Rehteus Oxlo

Axtapor: derivative of ‘astor’ meaning hawk

Here is one example of a real-world name I adapted to fit the lore of the story. I chose this name because in the story Axtapor is a talented hunter and outdoorsman. Hawks are also native to the deserts which is where he comes from.

Rehteus: modified version of the word ‘righteous’

This one was chosen intentionally. I have a lore post on lizard names (find it here!) and in there, it describes the middle name is the first/given name of the paternal grandfather (for men) so I had to choose something that fit the person his grandfather was (who is characterized secondarily by him and his grandmother in AASOAF 2) but also be somewhat fitting for Axtapor. He isn’t a hero type, but many of his actions are noble/righteous, especially where it concerns Mariel.

Oxlo: derivative of the name ‘Oslo’

No reasoning here. I just liked it lol.

Fay Anara

Fay: “fairy”

Intentionally oxymoronic. Fay has probably the most tragic backstory of all of my characters so I wanted her to have a name that contrasted her past. Wilkes (her love interest/husband) argues that her name is fitting for her because he knows her soft side and believes she is more than her past and her present attitude which is outwardly devilish/opportunistic/quick to anger.

Anara: “pomegranate flower/wanderer”

Intentional. She doesn’t have a last name, but acquires this one when she takes on the Quartermaster’s title under Captain Odell (previous captain of the Mirage). For context, he took to using the name Anara with all of his Quartermasters because he cycled through them so quickly. She kept the name for the sake of anonymity in the beginning and later on for the clout after she killed Odell. Pomegranate flowers also symbolize sanctity, fertility, and abundance, something that has a lot of double meanings and is pretty spoiler-y for her so I won’t explain it.

Wilkes Evos Sikthax-Seymour

Wilkes: “resolute protector”

Unintentionally fitting. I’ve always liked the sound of this name so when I created a male OC (he was my first) I slapped it on him and went on my merry way haha. As his character started to take shape, I looked up what it meant and had a mind-blown moment when I realized it was perfect for him. He always comes to Fay’s defense and in the original telling of AASOAF she refers to him as her shield many times.

Evos: derivative of ‘evo’ meaning latter part of the day/late afternoon until nightfall/evening of one’s life

I can’t delve into this one so much because spoilers but it's absolutely fitting for him and totally intentional.

Sikthax: made up/no derivative

Wanted a cool sounding name that started with an S because it felt right and this is what I came up with haha.

Seymour: “Saint-Maur” region in France

No meaning here, I just picked it because it sounded cool. Also, Wilkes only had a first and last name in the original telling of AASOAF and ‘Wilkes Seymour’ is just a very pirate-y sounding name.

#tag game #name meaning tag #writeblr tag games #aasoaf #mariel #axtapor #fay #wilkes

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danwhobrowses · 6 months

Text

My Highlights of Full Gear 2023

And we're back with the wrestling.

Full Gear has a lot of moving pieces looking to build; a variety of title matches, grudge matches and friends fighting one another.

Let's see how what I enjoyed

Spoilers for the PPV of course

Buy In

Stoke staring daggers at Eddie while the crowd still pops for him

'He listens to anime soundtracks' - okay Stokely's a heel in my mind now anime soundtracks slap

In wrestling lore, Anne Hathaway is Stokely's adopted sister XD

That overhead belly to belly into the turnbuckle was so fucking clean

GOODNESS that guitar crack into Sonjay (for a retired backroom staff member Sonjay always takes a lot of bumps)

Ortiz and Eddie together makes me wonder, Santana for next ROH champ?

Eddie's commemorative popping the crowd with Renee - but he was too busy cussing out Stoke to cuss out RJ

I think we don't appreciate enough that the Blackpool Combat Club as a faction exist outside of alignment; all four dabble in heels and yet Claudio is the face against Buddy, Bryan is a face for the Continental Classic, but Mox and Yuta are heels against OC and HOOK (surprised we didn't have a FTW title match here)

This match slaps as well, Claudio and Mr Rhea Ripley are just not human

Cheeky Nandos Kick foreshadowing

Gunns' entrance still slaps, it's perfect and it also elevates BCG when they use it together

In this house we chant 'JOE!' repeatedly

MJF with 365 days on his robe

LA Lakers attire too

'I'm a poor' sign - who isn't these days bud?

Gunns have been flying around everywhere in this match

ADAM COLE BAYBAY!

Leg injury angle adds to the drama too

Main Card

Starting with a big trios match

A fucking children's choir doing Christian Cage's entrance (with a new tron)

I mean 'he comes more often than herpes' is apt for Ric Flair

Adam Copeland with Darby's paint, and those coats

Crowd continuing Metalingus

You can tell when two wrestlers have trained together, the synergy is there

Darby, just. Why?

Darby Allin loves his spine as much as Kota Ibushi loves his neck

He's climbing Everest AFTER THIS???

Nick Wayne's heel development is almost as good as Dominik Mysterio's I must admit

Clever from Christian climbing under the ring to sweep Adam and then lure Sting out to give Darby no options

It was of course a tease, but it was probably wise to keep Copeland and Christian apart all match, save it for Revolution or Winter is Coming

Sting getting an ovation

It felt quite rushed, but OC going over was the right call

I like that Shida has been using a lot of colour to counter Toni's black and white

Kingston putting his titles on the line definitely raises the stakes for the Continental Classic

Brody and Bill staring each other down at the start of the match

MEAT Chants are still alive

Malakai just flung that ladder into Cash

Suicide Dive into a Ladder!?

Red Hart, Sky Blue and Purple Cobras

Hart still has an amazing moonsault

That was a great snap for Code Blue

I thought Sky would take it but good for Julia

Billy Boy Bird is All Elite and he still has Elevated Bruv

Swerve gets the Nana Dance with a trope Entrance

Hangman didn't even wait for the Entrance

I've been guilty of stapling myself in my youth (I didn't realise the 'metal face' is what makes the ends bend and wanted to see for myself) so I know that hurts like a motherfucker

He's fucking drinking his blood!

Swerve's Killshot instincts have awakened

DVD on a Cinder Block!

PILEDRIVER ON THE TOP OF THE BARRICADE!?

TOMBSTONE ON A BARBED WIRE CHAIR!

I do love that spot when someone beats 10 by rolling out the ring (this time dragged)

And the Chain comes back

I don't think you can't call that a match, that was a WAR

GIVE THAT MAN A BELT, GIVE THAT MAN THE WORLD TITLE BELT

Omega selling a story with sentiment

Kenny you need to rename it something other than 'You Can't Escape' because buddy they can escape

Bucks did the low blow

Jericho kicked out of the BTE Trigger

Choices of V Trigger

Matt Jackson OWA

BCG with the mocking limp

MJF with the ambulance return spot

Jay White's heel work has been great throughout

Nigel literally hiding in the corner

The table collapsed and Max hit the elbow drop anyway on pure ground

TOPE CUTTER!?

Conclusion There was a lot of great wrestling on this card.

However, between the opener and the TBS title match it did feel like some matches were very rushed; OC/Moxley was a complete sprint, same with Storm/Shida, and the Ladder Match felt rather messy to try and contain all the spots they wanted. Also TK seriously, I get Toni has done a massively over reinvention but I am begging you to let Shida successfully defend a title in front of a PPV crowd, for god's sake man.

I didn't quite like the Jets beating the Bucks either, with Ibushi signed there's not much reason for their team to exist and now they have an anytime tag title shot. I guess it does end Kenny's PPV losing streak but still.

And I must say I was on the fence about the Main Event, I get using drama to narrate the match but the leg injury did end up weakening Jay White's very strong build that he couldn't beat a one-legged MJF, and too much shenanigans leave that for every Roman Reigns defense in the last year (all 5 of them).

But on the plus side, some amazing storytelling, some electrifying spots, the TBS championship being given to a young and deserving talent, and just an all timer brutal war of a match. It's not the strongest of AEW's current strong PPV runs but it's still pretty damn strong.

Match of the Night: Texas Death Match Best Entrance: The Patriarchy's children's choir just beats the Nana Dance trope Best Attire: Sting, Darby and Adam Copeland just ekes out Statlander's Globogym Purple Cobras outfit Best Performance: Hangman/Swerve tied Spot of the Night: So much of the Texas Death Match could've gone on here but I'm giving it to MJF's over the top rope and out the ring cutter because I did not see that coming

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godraet · 8 months

Text

lmao first post absolutely has to cover some important parts of this blog because i control the lore now.

we're going to start this off with the entire "the gerudo are persian coded" and even if people disagree with me, i have reason to see it that way and also this opens up avenues to look into more of their culture with something to base it off of- anyway with this, gan is in fact padishah, mighty king. i do not care what other titles the games have given him, that is the ONLY one that actually matters in my heart. i don't vibe with "lmao he's just demise being an ass for no real good reason" and while we do get a background sorta in windwaker i continue to expand on things because this is my city now.

gan is in fact a great king to his people. he has issues with hyrule, but for real not every nation gets along, and hyrule has plenty of its own flaws and prejudices. it sorta goes both ways there- sure, the complex nature of the mix of divine memories, past lives, and the present moment make it hard for him to actually figure out what he's feeling, but more often than not, he's bitter about hyrule and he can pick at least one valid reason across every lifetime he's lived- usually he'll list like 10 because he's bitter.

on the note of gan's kingship, this term no longer has gender because gan's gender is "power" and it doesn't matter if he was born male, he doesn't really notice any difference between himself and the women he's always been around aside from primary sex characteristics and in his mind that DOESN'T mean he has to be a man. he uses he/him pronouns, but that also doesn't necessarily indicate masculinity. as he was raised, it was femininity that was a mark of strength- he was taught to be proud of the form he was given by the goddesses, to be proud of his power, what i'm saying is for all he cares, he's also one of the women and he's the strongest one in the room at any given moment.

something something the inherent lgbtq nature of the gerudo in general??? so when i say gender doesn't actually matter, i truly mean that none of them give a shit, it's that the greater majority of them have more "feminine" looks- i know the lore says every 100 years a male is born, but actually i don't vibe with that so it's more of the "every 100 years, a series of criteria are met and the child born gets the title of padishah regardless of assigned gender at birth" because do you think demise cares about gender? demise cares about power, and the gerudo have proven to be strong as a whole. it just so happens that this time around, the person in question was dmab.

yes, gan is an incarnation of the god demise, just like zelda is an incarnation of the goddess hylia. yes, it makes literally everything in his life more complicated, but that's just the nature of divinity slapped in a "mortal" container.

gan likes women and femme leaning individuals. putting this here because reasons.

#hc tag tba #ITS MY CITY NOW!!!#theogony‚ the legend of the forgotten god ╱ meta

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insomnia-productions · 2 years

Note

17 and/or 35 for the weird questions for writers 😊

Thank you for the ask!!

35 - my favorite writing rule to smash is anything related to sentence length and structure. with the help of commas, colons, semicolons, and dashes, i will defy the will of the gods and forge sentences that are as grammatically correct as they are indecipherably long

17 - ooh okay i actually have a new wip i haven't spoken about on here, so i'll take the opportunity to talk about it! The working title is Kick The Bucket, and it's a revamp of a plot idea i had back in high school. By "revamp" I mean that I took some sweet, soft romcom characters and turned them into most esteemed assholes

The elevator pitch is that it's a Jerk x Jerk style love story between a living person and a ghost who needs their help to move on. I'll put the rest under a cut -

Since this ask is about lore and minutiae I'm just gonna ramble about the characters and all the niche information I have about them so far. As with all of my characters, they're both based on pieces of me that I peeled off of my psyche and expanded into whole people. If this gets long and rambly.... im sorry i haven't talked to anyone about these two yet and im love them

First: April Anand, the one that's alive. She's a grad student studying medicine (following in her father's footsteps, in more ways than the one). If I had to explain her in the shortest way possible.... April idolizes Spock, but thinks that his biggest flaw is being too emotional. She's one of those people who thinks that being pragmatic and emotionally detached is the only way to be intelligent. Consequently, she's also very arrogant and firmly believes that she always knows best. Naturally, she would rather die than admit to being vulnerable or Having Feelings. Her general rule is that if she ever has an emotion, no she doesn't. Underneath it all, though, buried so deep that she isn't even aware of it herself, she's exhausted by her own expectations, and she's afraid that she isn't a real person, that there is no extant part of her that was not crafted by the expectations placed upon her. She's afraid that she'll always be alone.

A random collection of facts about April:

Her movements are often sharp, decisive, and forceful, especially when she's annoyed or angry.

Calls her parents once a week for updates on how her 15-year life plan is going.

Deals with stress by working harder

When she's frustrated at herself for being unable to do something right or not being able to focus, she gives herself a single hard, sharp, controlled slap and keeps going

If she analyses the data and concludes that she was wrong about something, she will readily admit it. She'll never apologize, though.

I took an MBTI test for her and got ISTJ

If I were to assign her one of the five primal fears, it would be Loss of Autonomy, but also Fear of Mutilation

Her favorite flowers are sunflowers.

She's very good with makeup and enjoys wearing it. She likes the idea that she can so completely control her presentation and the way people perceive her. At the same time, though, those moments of transformation make her uneasy, the idea that she could be someone other than the person she has made herself, that she contains multitudes beyond what she was crafted into.

Second: November Niran, the one that's dead. November was a renowned violinist in the world of classical music - a child prodigy, trained by his parents, both failed musicians themselves. He's also exceptionally vain and self-absorbed. He's lived alone since 19, when he essentially disowned his parents. November is just as arrogant and averse to vulnerability as April -- but where she is genuinely very self-assured, November's self-aggrandizing and somewhat narcissistic demeanor is mostly just a front for a deep insecurity and self-loathing. He's a chronic over-thinker, picking apart every thought and feeling he has, and he is deeply, crushingly lonely. November claims that he can't move on because he never fulfilled his bucket list - but really, it's because he was unable to form a single genuine human connection, the only thing he really wanted to do.

Facts about November:

(TW for suicidal ideation and mentions of ambiguous suicide in the final bullet point)

His surname means ‘never ending’. So his name kind of means ‘never ending November’, which has two different levels of meaning- one referencing November the person, and the other referencing November as the last month of autumn.

He turns more translucent when he's upset or embarrassed and will phase straight through the floor to get away

He composes his own music, but never had the confidence to perform it

He's actually an excellent gift-giver, when he tries.

His primal fear would be Fear of Separation

His favorite flowers are daffodils.

When he was alive, he had a recurring dream of standing on the lake shore, or at the beach, or on a cliff, watching as a great incoming wave rose far above his head, blotting out the sun.

November died by drowning in the lake. When he was alive, he used to stand at the end of the dock imagining what it would be like to sink into the cold silence of the water. The idea of not existing anymore unsettled him, so he never really intended to do anything other than imagine it. Now, though, he can't remember exactly how he drowned. He doesn't think he would have done it, but he can't stop thinking about it.

The story follows the two of them as April tries to exorcise November, or otherwise get him to move on and stop haunting her house. I wouldn't say that they improve each other, but along the way they adjust to each other's unique brand of terrible, and eventually fall in love. It's kind of bittersweet that way, because once November gets that genuine connection he's been longing for, he's finally able to move on, leaving April behind.

I've... definitely rambled enough for one post so I shall leave you with this cover I made for their Spotify playlist. oh and their Spotify playlist lol. i Cannot draw but i think this image does give a general idea of the vibes

#ask game #ghost jerks >:]

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byneddiedingo · 2 years

Photo

William Austin and Clara Bow in It (Clarence G. Badger, 1927) Cast: Clara Bow, Antonio Moreno, William Austin, Priscilla Bonner, Jacqueline Gadsdon, Julia Swayne Gordon, Elinor Glyn, Gary Cooper. Screenplay: Hope Loring, Louis D. Lighton; Titles: George Marion Jr., based on a story by Elinor Glyn. Cinematography: H. Kinley Martin. Film editing: E. Lloyd Sheldon. Costume design: Travis Banton Was Elinor Glyn's Cosmopolitan magazine story "It" really a sensation, or is that just hype? Odds are it was the latter, because Glyn, who has a cameo in Clarence G. Badger's film It, billed as "Madame Elinor Glyn," was a master self-publicist. "It" gets several definitions in the course of the film, all of which are really just a relabeling of what has always been called "sex appeal." In the end it boils down to "whatever Clara Bow had." One of those definitions, delivered by the Madame herself, is "Self-confidence and indifference to whether you are pleasing or not," which actually doesn't fit Bow's character, Betty Lou, who is never indifferent to whether she is pleasing the object of her attentions, Antonio Moreno's Cyrus T. Waltham. She even flings herself on his desk to flirt with him. It is really just routine rom-com stuff: Girl spots boy, girl lands boy, boy makes a premature move and gets slapped for it, girl rejects boy because he thinks she's an unwed mother, boy pursues girl but she rejects him again when he wants to make her his mistress instead of his wife, girl concocts revenge plot that goes awry so that at the end girl gets boy anyway. Today, It is mostly a rather creaky relic whose interest lies mainly in its display of Bow's abundant charm and comic finesse and in the appearance of Gary Cooper in an uncredited bit as a newspaper reporter -- he barely even gets a foot in the door in the film. The credited director, Clarence G. Badger, had a long and undistinguished career, and even though some of the film is said to have been directed by Josef von Sternberg, it would be hard to single out his contribution. Moreno, the leading man, is stuck with an unfortunately fluffy mustache, and the comic support by William Austin is marred by the fact that the orthochromatic film stock turns his blue eyes almost white, making him look more than a little creepy. The climax takes place on a yacht called -- get it? -- the Itola, which I think was originally the Capitola but had its first syllable lopped off for the sake of the joke.

#It #Clarence G. Badger #William Austin #Clara Bow

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baekhvuns · 2 years

Note

Good morning! (To me)

Atinys out for blood, it was funny at first and the antis went wild so they had to be clowned, but some fans are doing TOO much, calm down. Let them deal with the copying. But I do hope Vata says something, ideally something that won't be dumb and disrespectful

That previous fan call was so frustrating to watch, but the Atiny reassured him and Hwa also said he liked longer hair (then why did he cut it off not so long after siydishdkshsjduhdj but he went pink so it's fine). Look I care about hair, it's one of my personality traits and I may talk shit sometimes, but I would never say it anywhere near the members...

UNI AU PLEASE YESSSSS - says me who still gets uni related nightmares despite being out of school for a while. Not a furry at least not in THAT way alrite!!! I'm just an animal lover and pretty boys enthusiast, so what if we combine those two 🤗

💖

You got me at Park Seonghwa in red, because I love red and I love Seonghwa 💋 16:58 let's never forget and I thought we would end it with just one Shinee song, but my Shawol baby did not disappoint

Mf I'm gonna haunt him in that house I can tell we're not gonna let each other "live" square up ghost Tae

Nothing in Twilight screamed ROMANCE to me, like?! Don't get me started on that dumbfuck Jacob especially in later parts, and of course the ugly baby 😭 most shows suffer from too many seasons syndrome, it's so sad. I mean yeah understandable, they wanna milk it, there's a demand, but sighhh. Omfg that TB mention, it's creepy, but happens TOO OFTEN, the mind reading or perhaps spying is out of control ☠

The evils of SM lmao, imagine if Taemin, Key, Kai, Seulgi, Taeyeon (I would add Changmin, have you heard his song... Devil?) performing together 😳😳😳😳

Wdym Hwa doesn't like Y/N... you're right, he LOVES her <3 why are there so many guys please, all simps? But the one who is supposed to simp hates her??? And does Y/N like Hwa? Well I love ETL, so 😘 Y/N as Taemin's lore - sexy of her

Sunmi's recent concept, the ginger mermaid hair I DIED. Right, miss Chungha, I'm not that into her recent stuff unfortunately, but she's gooooood anyways.

Poor Y/N I just know I'm gonna become her biggest apologist and if bitch boy royal guy Hwa doesn't want her I'll take her as my witch wife. I'm looking forward to the fic, because it seems like there's a lot to unpack.

I know Villain Dies is so nice, actually the whole album is really good, Tomboy's rap was questionable, but the whole release is solid. One of my faves in 22 actually. Songs with villain in the title always slap: Idle, Pixy, Key, SNSD...

FLAME OF LOVE SAYONARA HITORI?!?!?! MY LOVES 😭😭😭😭

I just saw that art you linked *mind reading* it's soooo good and made me think of Duke or King

Btw Sunmi and Taemin, A LONGER COLLAB WHEN. I keep coming back to this. I like watching award shows with friends, because we just hang out and it's less boring that way, but on my own it's a struggle lmao

Mingi era sure it is and it has been since DV. I was like "gotta collect a lot of Mingi since he was absent" and the fact he looked especially good was a bonus and he's been looking saaaaauuuuur goooood ever since

That San x Jueyon article is so dumb sjsgiagsidgejsjs it's just their hairstyles I-

No because I showed Hwa one of my cats once 😭😭😭😭 I'm obsessed with the sound he makes in the first video, it's so fucking cute his lil "HAHA"

And what about my bodyguard Seonghwa? Do I get two?

HOOOOLYY SHTITIS SOOHYUK WHAT IS THIS AND WIDUKSHEUWAHABHA Eunwoo is there too? Jesus how did I miss this - DV 💖

hi hello!!!

Good morning! (To me)

good almost night (to me)

(and you)

atiny and now a whole idol 😭😭 nO EXACTLYYYY some are doing too much 😭😭 i understand the emotion behind it & the way it reached the choreographers too,,, but i saw SOME going above and bEYOND,, killed the entire vibe,,, vata didn’t say anything but a team member of his did?? wasn’t vata all quick to call out someone for plagiarism WHERE THAT GO NOW VATA AND HWA

some literally do not deserve those,, if u don’t like something just keep it to urself??? also some atinys say “ateez after they keep getting the same 10 people each fancall” WHICH IDK IF THEY UNDERSTAND THAT SOME PEOPLE (not one of the 10’s) POST ABOUT THEIR FANCALLS ON LINE 😭😭😭 SOME THINGS ARE PRIVATE,,, no ur so right, talking shit but keeping it to urself and jot saying it in front of idols is basic manners 😭😭😭

I WILL VERY MUCH TRY FOR IT !!!! i recently was watching 18 again the kdrama version and kept seeing seonghwa 😭😭😭 LMFAOOOO DO U GET THOSE RANDOM THOUGHTS ABOUT AN ASSIGNMENT BEING DUE BUT THEN U REALIZE UR NOT IN UNI AT ALL 😭😭😭🤚🏼 KFJWKDBWK SAY WHAT U WANT ITS CONFIRMED UR A FURRY,,, ur saying alpha hwa???? hear me out, fallen angel hwa <3 taemin’s lore

💖

You got me at Park Seonghwa in red, because I love red and I love Seonghwa 💋 16:58 let's never forget and I thought we would end it with just one Shinee song, but my Shawol baby did not disappoint

SEONGHWA IN RED IS ILLEGAL, red is such an illegal colour like how can u be so sexy and bad at the same time,,, GBQKFHEK HE WILL FORVER REMEMBER HIS ROOTS AS A SHAWOL IM BEGGING TO SEE HIM NEXT TO TAEMIN FBWNDBE

Mf I'm gonna haunt him in that house I can tell we're not gonna let each other "live" square up ghost Tae

LMFAOOOO 😭😭😭 ITS A ETL BESTIEEEE ETLL !!!!!!! TWO GHOSTS STUCK IN ONE ROOM?? BOUND TO FALLING IN LOVE <3

NO SERIOUSLY WHERE IS THE ROMANCE IN TWILIGHT 😭😭😭 STOP THE BABY STOPP GHWKFHWK HOW CAN THEY DO IT SO DIRTY 😭😭🔫🔫 NO THE TB MENTION CAUGHT ME SO OFF GUARD THIS SHOW SOUNDS SO INTERESTING BESTIE I MIGHT GIVE IT A WATCH,, the fbi spy really said “for you” huh 😭😭

The evils of SM lmao, imagine if Taemin, Key, Kai, Seulgi, Taeyeon (I would add Changmin, have you heard his song... Devil?) performing together 😳😳😳😳

THE EVILS OF SM STOOPPP AND HES CHANGMIN FBWNDB THE DILF OF KPOP,, no bc changmin’s chocolate + lie with chungha is so good THE HARMONIES IN DEVIL IS CRAZY GOOD sm and their soloists are so top notch <3 omg do u rmr when henry taemin and kyuhyun performed trap together that but with all of sm’s evils ,, THE NEWEST EDITION TO SM EVIL IS TAEYONG WITH HIS GHOST

bestie no one likes y/n except maybe hongjoong <3 and maybe someone from hwa’s side <3 national traitor after all ☺️ ALL OF THEM SIMPS TRULY san tho 😮‍💨 y/n has a complicated history with hwa tho never mentions it,,, hwa is about to be married BESTIE WHY WOULD HE THINK OF SOMEONE ELSE FBWMFJWK y/n is so fr sexy my favourite yn out of all

Sunmi's recent concept, the ginger mermaid hair I DIED. Right, miss Chungha, I'm not that into her recent stuff unfortunately, but she's gooooood anyways.

RIGHT THE GINGER MERMAID,, when sunmi does lore in her cb’s it always slaps,,, chungha!!!! her company doing her so dirty but her vocals are so so stunning, love me out loud on her recent album is insanity

FBWKDHSK EVERYONE WILL BE YNS BIGGEST APOLOGIST until u guys learn about seonghwa <3 JDBWKDBK BOLD OF U TO ASSUME BITCH BOY ROYAL GUY IS NOT GONNA BE OBSESSED WITH THE IDEA OF MISS YN,, a lot to unpack for sure!! excited to finally start it after a long time!!

it really is! i have that and the danceracha song on repeat atm 😭😭 we do not talk about that rap in this household

FLAME OF LOVE SAYONARA HITORI?!?!?! MY LOVES 😭😭😭😭

EXACTLY EXACTLY EXACTLY 😭😭😭😭 EVERYTHING ABOUT THOSE SONGS 😭😭😭 LITERAL ART THE JACKPOT SM HIT WITH THOSE SONGS BEING GIVEN TO TAEMIN

I just saw that art you linked *mind reading* it's soooo good and made me think of Duke or King

omg a TB moment i see 👁👁 it really did but now imagine deonghwa as a general

WE NEED THEM TOGETHER ON A WHOLE SONG SM PLEASE MAKE IT HAPPEN 😭😭😭 kdnwkd im quite the opposite of u i prefer watching it alone bc my friends keep tALKING 🔫 I NEED TO HEAR THE FALSETTO PLS STOP TALKING 😭😭

am i seeing a “mingi dv anon” era approaching????? what do u think is mingi’s best hair,,, his blond for me just hits so hard like he’s a natural blond

That San x Jueyon article is so dumb sjsgiagsidgejsjs it's just their hairstyles I- //// No because I showed Hwa one of my cats once 😭😭😭😭 I'm obsessed with the sound he makes in the first video, it's so fucking cute his lil "HAHA"

LMFAOOOO 😭😭😭 THE WAY IT STARTED TO TREND TOO NDBDNDBDN omg WHAT DID HE SAY TO UR CAT 😭😭😭🤚🏼🤚🏼 PLS DID HIS EYES GO ALL ROUND AND BOBA 😭😭😭 park seomghwa needs to be protected at all costs im fighting anyone who troubles this man 🔫

And what about my bodyguard Seonghwa? Do I get two?

sanhwa!bodyguard x reader…

HOOOOLYY SHTITIS SOOHYUK WHAT IS THIS AND WIDUKSHEUWAHABHA Eunwoo is there too? Jesus how did I miss this - DV 💖

THIS IS A WHOLE VISUAL MASTERPIECE BESTIE,,, IF HE DOESNT HAVE A LEAD ROLE 🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫

i would like to offer u this idiot today <3

😭😭😭🤚🏼

us but with seonghwa and a rando kid <3

🧍🏻‍♀️🧍🏻‍♀️

a uquiz

#✉️ : ask #dv 💖 anon

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many-gay-magpies · 2 years

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verivery and skz!

ooh okay--

first bias:

verivery: gyehyeon

skz: hyunjin

current bias(es):

verivery: ...gyehyeon (altho also dongheon and hoyoung now maybe? and yongseung? idk i like a lot of them)

skz: minho, jisung (maybe others but my bias list in skz is a lot less comprehensive than it used to be LMAO)

album/era ranking:

verivery:

ROUND 2: WHOLE | bcs it had both underdog and heart attack, and trigger slapped, so !

ROUND 3: WHOLE | undercover and O are my two favorite promoted tracks of theirs and they both come off this album, plus the styling and concept this era fucked massively, so. yeah <3

ROUND 1: HALL | only two tracks, but the tracks were get away and numbness, which both slapped. also the concept and mv were absolutely iconic

FACE ME + FACE YOU | lumping these together because theyre pretty even for me-- FACE ME has lay back, photo, and MOMENT, then FACE YOU has thunder.

FACE US | the bsides were great and a couple of my favorite VRVR tracks are on that album (my face and get outta my way), but GBTB being the title kinda detracted from it for me HDJFFJHF

VERI-CHILL

VERI-US + VERI-ABLE | i know there are a lot of kpop fans out there who really go for the more bright, cheery songs, but as much as i respect them they are not me-- i still like all the songs tho, not to be mistaken! Alright! and Get Ready are forever bops

skz: (im not doing literally every single era because that would be, just. SO much.)

clé: LEVANTER | levanter is one of, if not my MOST favorite skz title track of all time-- the mv, the song, just the EVERYTHING. the album also has sunshine, booster, and STOP, so yeah its my favorite <33

I AM WHO | my pace as the tt, and then question, insomnia, m.i.a., voices, WHO?, awkward silence... i have listed literally every song on the album so that probably gives you an idea of how much i value it.

Clé 1: MIROH | me: era that got me into stray kids say aye! miroh: AYE!! KSGDJDGH but yeah it. the Queen of all time <33 im pretty sure i had some of the rap sections in maze of memories, if not the entire song, memorized for like a straight year, despite not being able to nor wanting to rap myself. chronosaurus, 19, boxer, victory song my beloveds... clé 1 my beloved <3

GO LIFE/IN LIFE | pairing these two together because one is a repackage and they BOTH have some of my favorite ever skz songs on them. even though these eras saw the start of my decline from stay-dom with god's menu, im still absolutely in love with a lot of the songs that came from them, like easy, any, wow, my universe, another day, phobia, gone days, and ta!

NOEASY | once again kind of a miss on the title track with my personal tasted, but the BSIDES. god the bsides. we got silent cry, gone away, mixtape: OH (even though that was kind of its own era before with a single/ prerelease if i remember right?), cheese, domino, fucking red lights... kpop groups why must you always make my least favorite song of an album the title track.

I am NOT | not one of my favorite tts even if it was debut, but its a nostalgia era for me, and mirror, awaken, rock, grow up, and 3rd eye are ABSOLUTELY my beloveds.

Clé 2: Yellow Wood | not one of my most exciting eras, but i loved all the mixtapes and four of them were on this album, so !!

how i got into them:

verivery: i saw a gyehyeon gifset on my fyp, then went into his tag to find more gifsets to reblog (both because he pretty and i wanted to support creators), then next thing i know im binging every single one of their title tracks in order and drowning myself in their lore. it happened entirely without me expecting it

skz: saw the chronosaurus mv under a b*s mv i was watching back in 2019, liked it, then went and watched a bunch of their other stuff, liked that, and they very rapidly ascended to ult position LMAO

which member would be my best friend:

verivery: honestly theyre all very friend-shaped to me but probably dongheon, yongseung, or minchan? dongheon is a dork, minchan is precisely my kind of funny/weird, and yongseung is just chill and i think he'd be cool to hang out with!

skz: jisung <3 also felix, felix would be an absolutely rad best friend.

something i associate with them:

verivery: fuck idrk how to interpret this question. their lore? clone themes? vaguely homoerotic tension? the color silver? i could go on a whole rant on what my synesthesia associates with each of the individual members but that would be far too much to squeeze into this ask game, and also i think i may have already done that. i can say i associate minchan with coffee a little bit because that's what his voice sounds like to me?

skz: the color orange, for some reason. other than that i kinda got nothing HDJFBF

#asks #ask games #heeyunies #artzyy 🎨#vv #skz #:>

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maddiesbookshelves · 2 years

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Crush (Crave #2) by Tracy Wolff (February 2022)

Warning: there will be spoilers for this book and the first one, don't yell at me, you've been warned

Small summary for those who just want to see me be salty and don't care about reading the book: Hudson's ex-girlfriend tries to sacrifice Grace to bring him back to life, Jaxon and Grace stop her and she dies. Then, as they're walking in the halls, Hudson appears and tries to kill his brother with a sword. Grace steps in and changes into a gargoyle. Book 2 starts with Grace who doesn't remember any of it and learns she spent 4 months stuck in stone and that Hudson has disappeared. Plot twist: he's inside her head. So the goal in this book is to get 4 artifacts to get him out of there + 1 to take away his powers.

Honestly, I only read it because I wanted to know how Wolff was going to make us like Jaxon's supposedly-genocidal brother: if she was going to give him a redemption arc or if she was going to play the misunderstood character card. And also because @yourneighborhoodbibliophile wanted to see me suffer.

As a whole, this second book was less annoying than the first. Surprised but relieved, even if it still wasn't great. Honestly, I think 95% of it is because of Hudson: he's always making sarcastic comments and calls Grace out when she's being stupid. He also makes fun of his brother a lot, which made me laugh. There was more action and less awkward moments between Grace and Jaxon (again, thanks Hudson).

Something positive I forgot to mention in my review of book 1 is that we often see Grace almost having panic attacks, which shows that her trauma due to her parent's death won't go away just like that, and helps flesh her out as a character.

I appreciated the fact that we see Grace and Jaxon fight or have disagreements more often, it lays the groundwork for their future break-up (I assume), even if Wolff could have pushed the thing a bit more. If it were me, I would have insisted on the fact that they don't know each other that well. After all, they've know each other for all of 2 weeks before she turned to stone for 4 months, 2 weeks during which Jaxon hasn't necessarily always been 100% honest with her, or he didn't have time to tell her some things (that come up in book 2). Anyways, it was a good idea. Obviously, the catalyst to most of their fights is Hudson but that leads to other things that are actual problems, like Jaxon's jealousy and possessiveness.

Now for the bad things: it was also the case in book 1 but the chapters are separated weirdly. I think it was so there could be more "funny" chapter titles but 1) it breaks the flow of the story by cutting it when there's no reason to, and 2) most of the titles aren't actually funny.

Once again, it was very cheesy, thankfully Hudson was there to ruin the mood. Once again, we get some good ol' broken feminism like "blah blah blah stop being macho men trying to decide things for me, I am my own person" when really... it wasn't like that. And a little "you don't own me" right after an "I'm all yours"...

There were so many contradictions and plot holes (Hudson saying he can only see what Grace sees and then saying he discovered something on his own?), a lot of things related to the lore were confusing (the mating bond? this is all very confusing, we're told one thing in book 1 and another in book 2? anyways).

There's still a big pacing problem, Wolff just can't create any kind of tension, some moments just don't work. The plot is just as weak: it's basic and you can easily guess the plot twists, which end up falling flat.

Lastly, one thing that enraged me: the fact that Flint is in love with Jaxon. 1) It came out of nowhere 2) Grace's reaction was absolutely infuriating. She catches him when he looks sad and asks what's going on. He says he's met somone but he's not over someone he's been in love with for years. He NEVER tells her it's Jaxon. She just guesses when she sees the way he looks at Jaxon one time. After that? She's jealous when she has no reason to be and it made me want to slap her face off. While looking up the English version of the quotes I had written down, I realized that the French translation is very bad. I don't know if it's just that part (probably not), but the whole thing is slightly more bearable in English. Grace and Hudson still have the worst reactions but the tone is less whiny and Grace blames Flint a bit less. So, I'll just use the 2 quotes that infuriate me the most in English: "I get that Flint doesn’t think I’ve connected the dots, and I know his heart is breaking over Jaxon, but there’s a part of me that wishes he hadn’t chosen me to be that person there for him this morning." He didn't choose you at all, you're the one who asked him why he looked sad and he thought you were his friend. "Flint probably shouldn’t have brought you into his mess" okay Hudson, you shut the fuck up, he didn't bring her into anything, she's the one who asked and drew her own conclusions, like a big girl. UGH.

TL;DR: It was a bit better than the first book but the same problems that make those books mediocre are still present. They're made to appeal to the masses without caring about being different from the other mediocre romance books with vampires.

French rant under the cut

Petit résumé pour ceux qui veulent juste me voir déverser son sel et veulent pas lire le livre : l’ex-petite amie de Hudson essaie de sacrifier Grâce pour ramener son copain à la vie, Jaxon et Grace arrivent à l’en empêcher et elle meurt. Puis, alors qu’ils marchent dans les couloirs, Hudson apparaît et essaie de buter son frère avec une épée. Grace s’interpose et se change en gargouille (j’ai failli marquer grenouille, jpp). Le tome 2 s’ouvre sur Grace qui ne se souvient plus de ça et on apprend qu’elle a passé 4 mois figée dans la pierre et que Hudson a disparu. Plot twist : il est dans sa tête. Donc le but du livre c’est de récupérer 4 artefacts pour le faire sortir + 1 pour le priver de ses pouvoirs.

Concrètement je l’ai lu pour savoir comment Wolff allait nous faire aimer le frère supposément génocidaire de Jaxon : si elle allait lui donner une rédemption ou nous faire le coup du personnage incompris. Et parce que Mia (son blog est dans la version anglaise plus haut) voulait me voir souffrir.

De manière générale, le tome 2 était moins chiant que le 1. Etonnée mais soulagée, même si c’était quand même pas fameux. Honnêtement je pense que c’est à 95% dû à Hudson : il fait tout le temps des remarques sarcastiques et dit à Grâce quand elle agit de manière débile. Il se moque aussi beaucoup de son frère, c’était drôle. Y’avait beaucoup plus d’action et moins de moments gênants entre Grâce et Jaxon (encore, merci Hudson).

Un point positif que j'avais oublié de mentionner dans ma review du tome 1 c'est qu'on voit souvent Grâce au bord de la crise de panique, ça montre que son trauma lié à la mort de ses parents s'en va pas d'un coup de baguette magique et ça contribue à la rendre plus tangible.

J’apprécie le fait qu’on voit Grâce et Jaxon se disputer ou avoir des désaccords assez souvent, ça permet un peu de préparer le terrain pour leur future rupture (j'imagine), même si Wolff aurait pu pousser un peu plus. A sa place j’aurais insisté plus sur le fait qu’ils se connaissent pas bien. Après tout, ils se sont connus pendant quoi ? Deux semaines max avant qu’elle se change en pierre pendant 4 mois, 2 semaines durant lesquelles Jaxon n’a pas forcément été 100% honnête avec elle, ou n’a pas eu le temps de lui dire certaines choses (qui ressortent dans le tome 2 du coup). Bref, c’était une bonne idée. Evidemment le catalyseur de leurs disputes est souvent Hudson mais ça les entraîne sur d’autres choses qui sont de vrais problèmes, notamment dans le comportement jaloux et possessif de Jaxon.

Maintenant le négatif : c’était aussi le cas dans le tome 1 mais les chapitres sont vraiment divisés bizarrement. Je pense que c’était pour pouvoir caser un max de titres de chapitres “drôles” sauf que 1) ça casse le rythme du récit en coupant à des moments où il n’y a aucune raison de couper, et 2) la plupart du temps c’était pas si drôle.

Encore une fois, c’était tellement mièvre, heureusement que Hudson était là pour casser l'ambiance. Encore une fois, on a du bon gros féminisme bancal du type “nia nia nia arrêtez d’être des macho men qui décident pour moi, je suis ma propre personne” alors que… c’était pas comme ça. Puis le “je ne lui appartient pas” alors que 2 pages avant c’était “je suis toute à toi”...

Énormément de contradictions (Hudson qui dit qu’il ne peut voir que ce qu’elle voit alors qu’il nous dit après qu’il a fait une découverte tout seul ?) et d’éléments du lore très confus (le lien de promesse ? c’est très confus toute cette histoire, on nous dit une chose dans le tome 1 puis on nous en dit une autre dans le tome 2 ? enfin bref).

Toujours des problèmes de rythme et du mal à créer une quelconque tension, y’a des passages qui marchent juste pas. Bref, l’intrigue est toujours aussi faible : c’est basique et on devine très facilement les rebondissements, qui du coup tombent à plat.

Un truc qui m’a énormément énervé : que Flint soit amoureux de Jaxon. 1) c’est sorti de nulle part 2) la réaction de Grâce était absolument insupportable. Elle le surprend quand il a l’air triste et lui demande ce qui ne va pas. Il lui dit qu’il a rencontré quelqu’un mais qu’il est toujours amoureux de la personne qu’il a aimé pendant des années. Il ne lui dit JAMAIS que c’est Jaxon. Elle devine juste en le voyant regarder Jaxon une fois. Et après ça ? La jalousie mal placée de Grâce m’a donné envie de la gifler mais d’une force surhumaine. “Flint n’est sans doute pas conscient que j’ai deviné l’identité du garçon qui lui a brisé le cœur. Tout de même, je lui en veux un peu de me l’avoir révélée” il t’a rien révélé du tout, et c’est toi qui a demandé pourquoi il avait l’air triste ? “Jaxon est mon promis !” Et ? Techniquement c’était son promis en premier, même si c’était pas réciproque. “Mais que veut-il que j’y fasse ?” absolument rien, c’est pour ça qu’il t’a pas dit qui c’était, mais bon, tu pourrais décider de toi-même d’être une bonne amie et d’être là pour l’épauler. “Flint aurait mieux fait de ne pas te mêler à tout ce bordel” alors, Hudson tu fermes ta gueule, il l’a mêlée à rien du tout, c’est elle qui a demandé et qui a tiré ses propres conclusions, comme une grande. UGH. En écrivant la version anglaise de ma review j'ai réalisé que la traduction est très mal faite. Je sais pas si c'est juste ce passage (certainement pas), mais du coup c'est un peu moins pire en VO. Grace et Hudson ont quand même une réaction très moyenne, mais au moins le ton est moins geignard et Grace blâme légèrement moins Flint.

TL;DR: c'était légèrement mieux que le tome 1 mais on retrouve toujours les mêmes problèmes qui font que ce sont des livres médiocres, faits pour plaire aux masses sans se soucier de se démarquer des autres romans d'amour médiocres avec des vampires.

#i was *crushed* when i saw how bad the translation was #way to betray the text #i mean i had my doubts about the translation from the start but #maaaan what a disappointment #crush #crave series #crave tracy wolff #tracy wolff #assoiffés #foudroyés #books #booklr #book recommendations #book recs #book review #book reviews #french

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holylulusworld · 3 years

Text

Shackled

Title: Shackled

Bad Bitches Bingo Square Filled: Enemies to lovers

Written for: @badbitchesbingo

Summary: Dean is at your mercy and you’ll have some fun.

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x Witch!Reader; Dean Winchester x Witch!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2,6 k

Warnings: language, bratty reader, dirty talk, restraints (rope), mentions of spells/binding spells, smut, unprotected sex, face slapping, hate sex, hair pulling, hand around throat (light choking), mentions of anal sex (barely), nipple play, biting, possessive reader/Dean, odd way to cure a demon (but the best way possible), I label this dub-con (just in case), female masturbation, dry humping, fingering, voyeurism

Divider by @firefly-graphics

2021 Bad Bitches Bingo masterlist

“You know,” you giggle, striding toward the restrained hunter, “I always wondered how’d you taste, Winchester.”

“I’m gonna split you into two halves-“ the demon growls, eyes pitch-black, “with my teeth.” now you snicker, stepping closer to the knight of hell. He still fights to break free, even though he’s retrained to a chair with ropes soaked in holy water. “Come here and get some.”

“Oh-I will, hunter boy,” cooing the words you kick his legs apart to step between his spread thighs, hands cupping his face roughly. “You look so good restrained, helpless and at my mercy. I almost want to make you happy…”

“Fucking witches,” the demon spats, glaring up at you. He hates you don’t even bat an eyelash when he snarls at you. “You don’t want me to be happy.”

“True,” leaning closer to lick over his cheek you smirk as he growls low in his throat. “I want to turn you into a mess, Dean Winchester. You know,” glancing over your shoulder you smirk, “your brother believes I want to help him cure you but little me wants to toy with you.”

“Toy with me,” eyes angry black holes Dean watches you straddle one of his thighs. You grip his shoulders, still that smirk on your lips when you start to rub your aching core over his thigh. “Bitch! You won’t get off using me.”

“Oh-I fucking will, Deano-“ you roughly grip his chin, force your tongue down his throat. “And you’ll thank me when I’m done, demon. I will make you scream so loud your baby brother can hear every moan and gasp.”

“Get off me,” Dean growls, a little less disgusted by you. “I will rip you apart, witch. This is your last-“ he moans feeling your hand cup his growing erection. “Fuck-“

“I’m on it, demon,” kissing him greedily, your tongue in his mouth you ignore Dean fights the ropes holding him. “You know, I never fucked a hunter nor a demon. This is the perfect opportunity. Plus, we hate each other. Three things I can cross off my bucket list.”

“Your life must be lame,” Dean huffs when you hop off his thigh to get rid of your skirt and shirt, revealing you are wearing no underwear. “What if my beloved brother walks in on us?”

“Aw, are you shy, Deano?” grinning you snap your fingers, sealing the dungeon so no one can enter it. “He’s out cold, sleeps like a baby just like the angel. I will have my fun with you and later,” you turn around to bend over a little, shaking your ass to show Dean the tattoo on your left cheek, “I’ll give you a nice new tattoo.”

“What’s that? A little devil?” he cocks his head, eagerly ogling your exposed sex. “Fuck me, she’s dripping. Such a naughty girl.”

“Yep,” turning back around to stalk toward the demon you snicker. “If I get the tattoo on your chest, you’ll be bound to me, Dean. There is no way you can deny me any wish. And now I wish for your dick in my cunt.”

“Greedy slut,” spatting the words Dean must watch you unbuckle his belt. He growls, fighting the ropes but somehow, his cock swells in his pants. “I’m gonna fucking ruin this greedy pussy.”

“I hope so,” you coo, unzipping his pants, dragging the rough fabric down his thighs with one swift motion. “Perfect dick for an asshole like you.” lazily licking your lips, you rip Dean’s red shirt open, smirking as he gasps at the sudden movement. “I want you free of clothing, demon boy. I like my prey naked.”

“Kinky rotten cunt,” Dean growls when you snap your fingers to destroy his undershirt, revealing his chest to him. “Don’t touch me.” he growls but his eyes are glued to your hand creep toward his cock. “I dare—fuck me.”

“Not yet, baby,” you purr, moving your hand slowly up and down his cock, driving him crazy. “Just tell me you want it and you can feel me wrapped around your dick, if not-“ you release his cock, stepping away to sit on the floor.

“What? Do you want to just stare at my dick till you get off?”

“No-“ you spread your legs, reveal your dripping sex to the demon. “I will just get me myself off using my talent fingers.” that caught his attention. His eyes glued to your tongue wetting your fingers the demon fights the ropes.

“Get here on my dick, bitch. You got me hard,” he grunts, gritting his teeth when you start to slide your fingers through your folds, “now take care of me.”

“I didn’t hear a ‘please’ Dean,” shoving two fingers into your cunt you moan loudly. “Feels so good, baby. I’m so, so wet for you, and tight.”

“I-I want you to ride my dick,” panting heavily, his eyes glued to your fingers fucking your slick cunt the demon growls like a wild animal. “I dare you to keep me waiting.”

“I want to hear it,” moving your fingers faster you lock eyes with the demon. “If I cum, before you beg me, you won’t cum at all.”

“P-Please-“ he spats, eyes onyx orbs. “Come here and fuck me or I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth.

“If you ask so nicely…”

“Do you think Y/N can end the cure?” looking at Castiel, wondering why the angel frowns deeply Sam looks at the lore again. “She’s sure about this spell? We didn’t use that one with Crowley.”

“Trust me,” Castiel assures. “If anyone can master this spell, it’s Y/N. She’s a bit difficult but deep down inside she’s a good person.”

“If you say so…”

“Bitch,” Dean tries to inhale your scent when you straddle his lap. He fights the ropes again, dreams of wrapping his hand around your throat, and fuck you raw. “Get started or I’ll-“

“Kill me,” you smirk, raising your hips to line his cock up with your dripping core. “Nah, I think you’ll take my pussy and cum when I tell you to,” pushing your tits in his face you grunt, “lips around my nipple, suck it like a good boy.”

“Fuck you, bitch,” a slap silences Dean and you sink onto without warning. He hisses, growls low in his throat before you silence him with your tits in his face again.

“You know the drill, Winchester. Give me what I want,” you gyrate your hips, force a deep guttural growl out of Dean’s throat, “and I’ll fuck you like no slut before me.”

“You’re the only slut I fucked so far,” he husks, plump lips curled into a smirk. “Now get started bitch, or I’ll bite your nipple.”

“Do it,” you whimper, watching Dean wrap his lips around one nipple, crazing it with his teeth. He smirks against your plush flesh before he bites down your tit and you grip his shoulders, crying out. “Fuck, you’re a beast.”

“I’m a monster and you just sank down my dick. I hope you didn’t get into trouble, sweetheart,” he grins, thrusting upward to hit that spot making you see stars. “There it is bitch. Now ride me as you mean it.”

“Fucking shut your mouth,” fisting his hair you force Dean to crane his neck. “Look at me while I fuck you, demon.”

“The moment I get out of these ropes, this cunt is mine, your ass is mine, your body and soul are going to be mine. And I’ll ruin you. Every. Single. Hole,” the demon threatens, licking his lips when you start to move your hips. “Good girl.”

“Shut up,” you tug harder, force another growl out of his throat. “Just take it like a good boy.” You grin, feeling his chest heave up and down against your breasts. “I bet you’d like to push me to the ground and just fuck me raw from behind like a wild dog.”

“Feral wolf, sweetheart,” you ignore Dean throws insults at you or that you’ve got the feeling he’s too comfortable with you on top of him. All you have in mind is to fuck him into obedience. “There, faster, harder. Make yourself cum on my cock, slut. I want you to cream all over me.” Your hips begin to stutter, and you hate yourself for it but you grip his shoulders to bounce faster on his cock.

“FUCK-I-M-“ you dig your nails into his shoulders, moaning loudly when your orgasm ripples through your body. You close your eyes, and for a moment, you allow yourself to let your guard down only to feel Dean’s hands paw at your ass.

“Yeah, and you will for the rest of the night-“ the demon smirks when you snap your eyes open. “Game over, witch. Now you will be good and do anything I want.” He grins, revealing pearl white teeth. “This includes taking my cock like a good girl.”

You shiver as his rough hands guide you up and down his cock. “Look at you, pathetic slut. Impaled on a demon’s cock you’re nothing but a drooling bitch in heat. Now I’m gonna fuck you as you deserve it.”

“OH GOD!” you cry, fighting his hands when he stands to throw you onto the ground. “Dean…”

“Aw, just stay there and take it, baby girl. I don’t bite,” he grins, rolling his shoulders. “Well, maybe a little…”

“Did Y/N just scream?” worriedly looking at the dungeon Sam debates to help you or to listen to his friend.

“Sam, she said we shall not enter the dungeon before she leaves it. And we can’t. She sealed it with a spell.”

“I’m just worried if she tried to keep us out or Dean inside…”

“Such a bad girl,” Dean pushes you to the ground, face pressed into the cold concrete. “I should snap your neck and just leave but I will cream this pussy first.” you moan at his threat, already dripping for more.

“Do your worst,” you whimper. “I can take it.”

“I know you can,” he wraps one large palm around your throat, forces you on your hands. “And you will take me so deep it hurts. Pity I don’t give a shit if you like it or not.”

“Fuck me like a man or leave it,” you quip. “If you can’t get hard, ask your brother for advice. He made me cum so hard last time we had a quickie.”

“You’re mine to fuck,” he grips you by your hips, driving in balls deep without warning. “Fuck, that’s a good pussy.” you writhe on his cock, moaning shamelessly as he starts to hammer into you.

“Hurry up, I got an appointment for cardio training later,” Dean chuckles darkly. “I mean it, Winchester.”

“The only valid form of cardio is taking my dick, Y/N. Now shut your mouth or I’ll gag you with my fist,” he speeds up, arms wrapping tightly around your chest to bring your back against his body. “Your pussy just saved your life.” he whispers in your ear, rutting harder into you.

“Blood to blood, mind to mind,” you chant, crying out the last word when Dean wraps one hand around your throat again. “Soul to soul, bind us. His Darkness, come to me. Let my light swallow it.”

“What the fuck?” Dean roars through his orgasm, shudders when blinding light surrounds you and the demon inside your body.

“Chain to chain, bind our souls. His Darkness be mine. My light be his,” you fall back against Dean’s chest, chanting the last words of your spell. “Let my heart save his…”

Dean pulls out of you, breaks apart, warily watching you. He breathes hard, not understanding why he can’t stop looking at you.

“Darkness fade away, set his soul free and take mine,” you end the spell, ripping your necklace off your neck to throw it at Dean.

The demon screams in agony, falls to the ground, clutching his chest. “It’s done, no turning back, Winchester,” you sigh, losing consciousness.

“How could you let her do this?” looking at you snuggled in his pillow Dean huffs. “You let a fucking witch bind me to her?”

“She said it’s the only way to end the cure. We were—desperate,” Sam chokes out. “Purified blood and the spell didn’t work.”

“Why did she have to do it that way?” licking his lips, Dean remembers the way you came around him.

“She purified your soul and shares the burden of the mark with you until we can remove it,” Castiel explains. “We reached the end of the rope Dean. Be thankful. Y/N was the only one agreeing to help you.”

“That woman is a witch!” Dean groans, when you roll to his favorite side on the bed, giggling when he glares at you.

“Aw, that hurts my feelings, hunter,” you mutter, blinking your eyes open. “I assume the cure worked?”

“He’s human again and pissed,” Sam throws his hands up in surrender. “I’m going to get drunk tonight. Leave me out of this fight.”

“I’ll leave you alone to talk things out,” Castiel ushers out of the room, sighing as Dean slams the door shut behind him.

“You got them wrapped around your finger, but I don’t trust you one bit,” he pokes your thigh. “Get off my bed and out of the bunker.”

“No thank you for your help?” you sit up, grinning at Dean. “Or rather for the fuck?”

“This stays between you and me,” he’s in your face, breathing heavily. “I dare you to tell Sam we fucked.”

“I’m the kiss and not tell kind of girl, Winchester. And—it was a pitiful and disappointing encounter. Why would I tell anyone about the worst sex I ever had?” you fake a deep sigh, batting your eyelashes.

“You are so frustrating.”

“And sexy,” you coo, kneeling on the bed. “Did you already see the great new tattoo on your chest? This means you are mine from now on.”

“A fucking chain,” Dean mutters, watching you pat his cock. “What are you up to? Why did you help me?”

“You’re a source of pure darkness and this gets me all tingly,” purring the words you slide your hand up to his chest to fist his shirt. “I’m the only one controlling it. If you want to stay human, you better satisfy my needs.”

“Your needs,” Dean huffs, but his cock twitches in interest. “Dream on.”

“I only want to get dicked down good and hard once in a while. Oh! And I want you to help me cross things off my bucket list. I already got hate sex, sex with a demon, sex with a hunter, and sex with Dean Winchester.”

“You’re a freak…a kinky one,” husking the words Dean unbuckles his belt…slowly. “What else do you have on that list?” he cocks a brow, smirking as you already unbutton the shirt you stole from him. “Y/N, I asked you a question.”

“Let’s see-“ cocking your head you try to remember all the things on your list. “Sex with you on your car. Eating pie off someone’s body. Killing the coven who killed my family. Sex with Sam Winchester. Sex with both Winchesters. Learning how to play a piano.”

“Holy fuck!” Dean growls, freeing his aching cock. “You are a fucking slut for Winchester cocks.”

“And?” you shrug, eyes glued to Dean’s cock. “I get bored easily on hunts and let my mind drift toward a good dick-story.”

“Get on hands and knees, bitch,” Dean orders. “You’ll recite your bucket list while I fuck you raw. And no, you won’t get Sammy’s dick, only mine. Now hands behind your back, I got a nice rope waiting to tame you.”

“I prefer your dick…”

Tags in reblog.

#badbitchesbingo #smut #Demon!Dean Winchester x Witch!Reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester smut #demon!dean x reader #Shackled #light dub con #hate sex

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poptod · 3 years

Text

The Old Gods

Description: Jack has to get close to a powerful suspect. Jack also ponders upon his humanity.

Notes: genuinely didnt meant for this to get so long, my apologies, i just like writing conversations bc i never get to have them. also! I hate myself so much for writing supernatural fanfiction in the good year of our lord 2021. its not my fault, it was the only show i could watch with my cousin that we both liked. anyway! lmk if you like it i could do a part two WC: 11k

The nearest library could hardly be called a library. A more accurate description would be a collection of books––a small collection––that could be read freely but never taken from the library itself. There was little need within the Winchesters to visit the library, considering they had one in their home filled with mythical lore, but the records of Kansas and neighboring cities and states were detailed thoroughly in the nearest library.

Jack knew a great many things; inherent natures and laws of the universe, the experience of power and of fear, both before him and within him. Many things he'd seen deserved to be feared, exposing him to dangers often unheard of amongst regular children.

Three months into existence, however, Jack liked to think he knew more than he did when he was born. This was because he'd spoken to more people, experienced more things, and learned select things about his mother, his father, his family, and strangers. Still, there were things that puzzled him––the age of the world was clear in his mind (4.543 billion years, four months, 22 days, 6 hours, and 52 seconds) but how humanity progressed into what they now were astounded him.

"Humans started as... these creatures with unending curiosity," Castiel explained to him, his hands folded neat in his lap but hidden by his too-long trenchcoat sleeves. "Ceaseless innovation. They started without language but they always had kindness. I think.. that's why God favored them, at least at first."

"So... kindness is a form of.. intelligence?" Jack asked slowly, his brow furrowed tight as he stared past his father.

"I believe so," he said, shifting in his seat. "Kindness drove these animals to building homes, to conversing with one another, to creating a better world for descendants they would never know. It's quite beautiful, actually."

"Am I a part of that story?"

Only half-human, only half-alive, only half the story, belonging to nothing concrete. Jack wasn't really human, leaving him alone in his species.

"Yes," Castiel said without hesitation.

Civilization first started off in a number of areas. The first book Jack found dealt with the fertile crescent northeast of Africa, where Mesopotamia brought forth a number of societies, of cultures, meshed together over the course of thousands of years. Sumerians were one of the first to build their cities, creating writing, the wheel, and the plow in their haven apart from the unpredictable and often violent wild.

But no––the next book Jack found stated that Jericho was the oldest city, west to the fertile crescent near the shore of the Mediterranean and the Dead Sea. The citystate was independent from any other power, often becoming abandoned from raids only to return to high populations, as humans flocked back to the spring water that still poured from inside the earth to this day.

Over the rest of the day spent in the nearest library, Jack learned there was no single spot in which civilization was created and then spread from. The Nile in Africa brought forth Egypt, the Indus river in Pakistan birthed the Harappan civilization, and the two rivers Yellow and Yangtze in China created the first asian cities. From there villages, towns, and cities spread like mold across the earth's surface, eventually bringing humans to inhabit every continent and nearly every environment known on earth.

There were far too many things to know, and the strain of reading on his eyes eventually forced him to retire for the day. He hardly understood anything yet, but the librarian was understanding as to his prolonged stay, and wished him a good evening when he left. He beamed a bright smile despite the strange pain growing behind his eyes, and waved good-bye.

Dean gave him painkillers when he got back to the bunker after Jack thoroughly (and unnecessarily) described his headache.

"Humans are... strange," Jack said, his brow furrowed in deep thought. He rested his elbows on the table, leaning over an empty bowl of cereal.

"Not wrong, but, care to elaborate?" asked Sam, who was sitting across from him at the kitchen table, a newspaper and pen in his hand.

"Castiel said you created the first cities out of a desire to.. to protect each other, and to keep yourselves safe. And then the first thing you do when you meet other cities is to go to war with them."

Sam sucked in a sharp breath, leaning back as he set the newspaper aside. This would take a little more concentration than a passing ear.

"People are scared by things they don't know," Sam began only to be cut off.

"Why?"

"They don't know if it's dangerous. You didn't trust us, at first, either. We didn't know whether to trust you. Remember?"

"Oh," Jack said softly.

"Yeah. But you're right," he said with a long sigh. "It's strange. We're... strange."

"Are humans inherently good?"

"I don't think anyone is inherently good," Sam said, and Jack straightened his posture, suddenly confused by his claim. "Every person – every thing, every living thing has – has the capacity for good and evil. It's really just up to the individual to decide which side they want to give into."

"Am I a good person?"

"First off, you're not really a person," said another voice from the doorway.

Sam and Jack both turned at the same time, meeting the eye of Dean, who had yet to change out of his bathrobe despite it being 2PM.

"Second off, you haven't been alive long enough to be a good person," he continued as he entered, an empty coffee cup in hand.

"Dean –" Sam began, only to be cut off.

"What? It's the truth."

The coffee machine buzzed loudly once Dean pushed a few of the buttons, setting his cup beneath the nozzle. He muttered something to himself before turning back to the kitchen table.

"Anything strange in the paper?" He asked, leaning against the counter.

"Maybe," said Sam.

He grabbed the paper again, delving into the details of a nearby missing persons case that soon faded out of Jack's state of mind. His thoughts were still absorbed in his existence, in his beginnings, and how they compared to the beginnings of humans. At least with angels he knew everything; that was how angels were born. Knowing everything.

Jack remained seated at the table when Sam and Dean left, still stewing in his thoughts that he imagined would never go away. It was half an hour later when the two brothers returned, this time fully dressed, and packed up on their way to the car.

"We've gotta go find some local records," Dean said.

"So we're headed to the library," Sam finished, and the two gave each other odd glances at the coincidental synchronicity.

"I was there a couple days ago," Jack said, suddenly perking up. "Can I come with you?"

"Sure, just don't get in the way," Dean said with a dismissive hand, already leaving the doorway.

Sam pursed his lips, letting out a bitter, almost apologetic chuckle before he followed.

He liked the middle seat. It didn't have a seatbelt, but he wasn't sure what seatbelts were for anyways, and the middle seat allowed him easy access to see both of the Winchesters. Dean never spared a glance in his direction while he drove, but Sam offered awkward, curt smiles.

Technically Jack could just fly to the library in an instant, but the drive into town was pretty, lined with the colors of autumn. Recently winds had taken up a more brisk edge, marking the absence of birds that flew in packs overhead. He scooted to one of the window seats, craning his neck awkwardly to look up and out of the glass, grinning at the ravens flying through the orange and gold trees.

The librarian showed the three men where the records were kept, directing them towards missing persons cases when they requested it. While Sam and Dean thumbed through the records, Jack returned to ancient history books, studying art and images from Vedic India.

There, amongst the carvings printed on soft paper, he found something rather odd. He stood from his position on the floor, still staring intensely at the print as he walked over to the table Sam and Dean sat at.

"Hey Jack," Sam said as he sat down, gently placing the book on the table. He scanned Jack's hunched posture before he asked, "something up?"

"I found something... strange," he said, his brow still knotted neatly above curious eyes.

"Yeah well, join the club, kid," Dean said with a groan, wiping his face with his hand.

Jack opened his mouth to ask what they'd seen, but Sam answered before he could speak.

"There's been repeated attacks, kind of," he said, waving his hand vaguely. "Once every ten years a couple of kids go missing. Always two kids, always on the same day of the year."

"And another anomaly," Dean said, reaching over to a stack of papers and slapping them on the table in front of Jack.

Big, black words displayed the newspaper title, and below it, the date of publishing. January 4th, 1967. The main article dealt with a concert happening in a nearby city, and the image printed with it displayed a number of concert-goers, most of them in their teens or early adulthood. Hidden behind several other people, a familiar face appeared––the librarian. Unhindered by time.

"Is that..."

"Big boots over there?" Dean asked, pointing with his thumb in your general direction.

You were sorting through a stack of books, but as Jack looked down, he found you were wearing rather large boots. The ends of your pants drowned in them.

"Do you think they're related?" Jack asked as he turned back to the Winchesters.

"Possibly," Sam said with a nod. "Bit early to tell. But, uh..."

Sam trailed off as his eyes focused on something past Jack's shoulder. He, as well as Dean, turned to meet your eyes that quickly darted away once all three of them were looking at you.

"I think I have an idea," Sam said.

Dean and Jack curiously tilted their heads to the side at the same time, though when Dean noticed that, he fixed himself immediately.

"I think they have a thing for you," he said in a much quieter voice.

"Me?" Jack asked, pushing his finger into his chest.

"Yeah. You could get a little closer and see if something's up."

"Are you seriously setting up Jack with a fuckin' demon, for all we know?" Dean asked flatly, earning an odd look from Sam, who had never heard Dean protest putting Jack in danger.

"Dean, Jack's dad is a demon-angel thing. I don't think it's a big deal," he said.

That seemed to shut the older Winchester up.

"Hm," Jack hummed as he debated the idea. "I also found something strange."

"Oh, right," Sam said, clearing his head with a shake. "What was it?"

"It was also... the librarian," he said with a deep frown. "In one of the books."

He pushed forward the textbook, opening it to reveal the page in which he'd found your face. The stone expression was remarkably similar to your traits, from the curve of your nose to the positioning of your eyes, and the small, polite smile on your lips.

"I found it in the history section," Jack explained. "It says it's from Vedic India."

A quick Google-search later, Sam was reading out the age of Vedic India.

"According to this it says the Vedic age was approximately around 1500 to 800 B.C., so... about 2,500 years ago."

"Wow, this fucker's old," Dean snorted.

Sam shot him a look over the top of his computer screen.

Having found the information they were looking for, the Winchesters began to pack up their belongings and their scribbled notes, shoving them into their bags or into their many-pocketed coats. Jack, on the other hand, prepared himself for talking to you, hoping his ineptness towards social situations with humans wouldn't be too obvious. He swallowed through the knot in his throat, taking a shaking breath in an attempt to steady himself.

It didn't work.

"Dean, what am I supposed to say to them?" He whispered when they were already approaching the front desk, his palms growing sweaty.

"I don't know, their job or something? Something normal," he very unhelpfully advised.

"Thanks for letting us stay for the day," Sam said with a polite smile, handing back one of the printed out records you'd fetched for them from beneath your desk.

"Not a problem. You keep quiet. I like that in a reader," you said, smiling back as you glanced between the three of them.

None of them moved, and your expression turned to mild confusion. Dean had to jab Jack in the side to get him to speak. He opened his mouth to protest, but Dean motioned something to Sam, and the two of them quickly left for the car, leaving Jack alone while they 'situated' themselves.

"I, um..." Jack started before he was ready.

The silence felt wrong, but the silence after saying something was much, much worse. Whatever came into his mind first would have to be what he said.

"I like your job," he said, keenly scanning your expression for any hint of your thoughts.

You paused, clearly taken back for a moment, before you broke out into a chuckle, looking down to your hands as your face flushed.

"I like it quite a lot, too," you said with a grin, looking back up at him. "I've always been interested in becoming a librarian. Granted, I didn't quite imagine it in Kansas, but it is pretty here."

"Where did you imagine it?"

"Greece, actually," you chuckled, and he smiled as well, his heart thumping with a sudden haste. "I was heartbroken to hear the Library of Alexandria was burned down."

"The Library of Alexandria?" He repeated, tilting his head to the side again.

"Haven't heard of it?" You asked.

He shook his head gingerly. Was he supposed to?

No matter––you explained in full what the Library of Alexandria was, when it was created, when it was burnt, and the loss it caused amongst human society. He listened intently, frequently asking questions you were happy to answer. When Jack glanced out the library window, he found the impala gone, and realized Sam's plan had, in a way, worked.

"Are there.. any books about the library?" He asked once you completed your short story.

"Yes, but I don't want to hold you folks up –"

It was then you looked out the window as well, finding the two large men had abandoned the smaller.

"Oh where'd they go?" You said in a curious, high voice.

"Don't worry about that, I... have a bus," he said, earning a strange look. "I am... I ride buses."

A beat of silence passed.

"So the Library was in Greece?" He asked, and your earlier mood returned.

You brought him––with much excitement––to one of the rows in the library filled with simple textbooks for primary school kids. Other rows of your well-tended library were occupied by old books, their bindings worn and frayed at the edges from continuous use. Pages were turned yellow and were soft beneath his fingers, but despite their age they were rather hard for Jack to read and understand, meaning his discovery of children's comprehensible textbooks was a giddy one.

Jack wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to be looking for when it came to you. What counted as suspicious? You continued to speak with him even after the sun set behind mountains, that could be a sign you were trying to gather information on him, as well. That could also mean you liked him. Was your friendliness suspect?

"- and the Phoenicians were really only called that by the Grecians. The name came from the purple dye that they're famous for, some root word for 'purple people' in Greek is Phoenicia," you explained, moving your hands expressively despite the fact that Jack's eyes were set dead on the textbook on the floor in front of you. Paragraphs of words surrounded modern depictions of ancient people and their art.

"So what was their actual name?" He asked as he looked up to you.

"Canaanites. From the land of Canaan."

"... you know a lot," he said, looking back to the page as you chuckled.

"It's just memory," you said with a shrug.

"Can I... can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you know anything about mythical creatures?"

Surely this would reveal something, Jack thought––you might react poorly, in which case you could be the monster, or you might react in complete knowledge, which... could also mean you were the monster.

"A little," you said slowly. "Why do you ask?"

"I have an interest, in myths and monsters," he said, almost smiling again.

"Oh man, I have a show you're going to love."

Far in the back of the library, a hollow, steel door led to a small break room, the carpet inside being a dark, scratchy grey against his palms when he sat down. There were no chairs in the room, but an old TV sat on a cheap cart plugged into the nearest, bare wall. On the opposite side of the TV was a dull blue counter that stretched from the door to a window covered by plastic shingle curtains.

You snatched the remote off the counter, pressing a large, red button that had the television buzzing to life loudly. The screen sparked, static radiating around it as a thin line of white brought life to a Netflix loading screen.

After several minutes of waiting for Netflix to load and then typing a title into the search bar, a show called Myths and Monsters was before him. He let out a laugh as he realized what had sparked the connection––he'd literally spoken the title.

Would an ancient being or monster know how to work a TV?

Castiel could work a TV.

Kind of.

The first episode began to play and you took a seat beside Jack, crossing your legs neatly beneath you. A few minutes in, rain pattered lightly on the roof, followed by sudden winds that battered the now pouring rain against the window. Jack watched through the side of his eye as you smiled at the change in weather.

That was suspicious.

Late in the evening, when night darkened the land and heavy thunderclouds darkened the sky, he left the library. He stood in the threshold between the warm light on your desk in the otherwise dark room, and the falling rain outside. Yellow-orange streetlamps illuminated the sheets of rain and the nearby bus stop, but you still stopped him, holding the door open as you both stood motionless in front of one another.

"I have a car, I can drive you home," you offered, gesturing over your shoulder to a door in the back that led to a private parking lot behind the library. "I'm not sure if the bus runs this late."

Extended time with you would be good, and he imagined your face illuminated by dim dashboard car lights would be better than good––great. Beautiful. You had wonderfully warm features. But you couldn't know where he lived for a number of reasons; if you were the monster, that was giving away a hiding place, and if you weren't, you would wonder why he lived in such a strange place.

"Thank you, but it's alright," he said. "I like the rain."

A small smile stretched across your plush lips.

"So do I," you said, and the two of you bid good-bye, retreating into your respective dark.

He gave a thorough rundown of the events proceeding after Sam and Dean left, and the three of them––Sam, Dean, and Castiel––listened closely. Dean already filled Castiel in on the rest of the case, and the two brothers were eating at the long table in the bunker's library.

They stared at him in silence when he finished.

"Sounds like a regular kid," Sam finally said.

"Ah don't be so sure about that," Dean said, raising a single brow. "What did you say the monster probably was?"

"A – a fae, or something," he said.

"Fae's good at lying," Dean pointed out, earning a reluctant nod from Castiel.

"He's right. Fairies are remarkably good at acting," he said in his low, grating voice.

"So... what next?" Jack asked.

"We'll keep looking into the case more, and you can probably ask the librarian out on a date," Sam suggested, earning an agreeing remark from Dean. "You can keep them distracted while we search their house."

"Do we know where they live yet?" asked Dean.

"No, but it shouldn't be too hard to find out," Sam said.

Jack watched the brothers for a moment, his mind emptying of answers as to what a 'date' was.

"What's a date?"

"Oh Christ," Dean muttered, moving immediately to his feet and leaving the room.

Sam let out an exasperated sigh at his brother, turning to Jack to explain what a date was, what were appropriate date activities, and how he should act when asking you out and when being out with you.

"Okay," Jack said with a nod despite not really understanding. "What are dates for?"

"They're between people who are interested in.. getting to know each other," Castiel said as he took a seat beside Sam across from Jack.

"So... like when Dean and I went driving."

"No. Not like that," Sam quickly said. "Not like that at all. If – if a guy is interested in a girl, like interested in having her be his girlfriend, then he might ask her out on a date. It's a romantic thing."

"The librarian does seem to be interested in you, from what I’ve heard," Castiel said with a pointed look in Jack's direction.

"I think you've got a shot," Sam agreed, nodding.

Jack thought for a moment before he said, "okay."

A few days later––Dean insisted he only try a few days later, saying anything less was damaging his honor––Jack returned to the library, lighting up when he found you were still working at the small front desk, your nose buried in a large box full of papers. Large, round glasses were hanging off the tip of your nose, and you pushed them up to your eyes when they slipped further off.

The door clicked softly shut behind him when he entered, scanning the room as if there was another reason he was there. You watched him the whole time, continuing to when he approached you, something obviously on his mind.

"I was wondering..." he trailed off, losing himself in your bright, expectant eyes. When he realized he'd fallen silent, he added the first thing that came to mind––a lie. "... if you could show me where the... books are."

You chuckled before you said, "which ones?"

"Maps," he said, smiling as he came up with something actually substantial.

Of course, it wasn't asking you out, but at least it was talking to you. He would have to do that later, though he supposed he'd have to do it that day or he would be disappointing the Winchesters and Castiel when he came back to the bunker without even trying to complete their orders.

"We don't really have a maps section, but I might be able to help you if you tell me the time and place you're looking for," you suggested for him, and he nodded slowly.

"Yes. Please."

"So what are you looking for?"

"Oh. Right, uh.. Greece and Mediterranean," he said, repeating subjects from the last time you'd spoken.

"Mediterranean sea?"

He nodded.

"What year?" You asked.

"Uh..." he drew another blank, "two... hundred."

You seemed reluctant to ask the next question, but it was necessary; "before christ or after?"

"... before."

"Alright," you said with a soft snicker, moving around your crowded desk area and towards the bookcases.

Your stride slowed as you approached a certain shelf, shifting up onto the tips of your toes to reach the highest books. Jack thought of offering his help, but he wasn't much taller than you––if at all––and he didn't know which books to get down.

Four thick books ended up in your arms, and you heaved them over to the nearest table, letting them thump down heavily. You spread them out, flipping rapidly through the pages till you found the proper maps you seemed to have memorized within each of the books.

"This one's about 900 BC to 200 AD, so it's got a bit wider of a range. Includes the bigger cities. This one is.. 1500 BC to 300 BC, so a little bit within range, has a lot more cities," you said, moving from one textbook to the next while Jack stared at you, enamored by your plush lips.

He barely even noticed that you finished your explanations, nor your quick words mentioning you should probably return to your studies and leave him to it. But he reached out on instinct, grabbing your wrist and tugging gently, convincing you to turn back to him. Your eyes, still bright, retained that same patient expectancy as his previous evening with you.

"I... could you talk to me?" He asked, oblivious to the implications read clearly by you.

"About what?" You asked in return as you stepped subtly closer.

"About fairies."

You paused, your eyes widening slightly.

"The ones from Celtic folklore or... like modern media fairies?" You asked slowly, slinking down into a seat you situated to face him.

He did the same, his feet planted firmly on the floor as he watched you, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Just... the oldest versions of fairies."

You nodded, again slowly as you pursed your lips.

"Well the oldest mentions of them in literature actually comes from ancient Greece, from the Iliad, by Homer," you began, immediately using your hands expressively as you spoke. "Those weren't Celtic fairies, though. Greeks considered creatures like satyrs and such to be fairies, as well, so... generally fairies and the fae as we think of them now came from Ireland and Scotland."

"Where are they?" He asked with a head tilt.

You stuttered for a second, your eyes flying across the room until you stood, returning to the shelves. He watched with much humor as you read the book titles at a frightening pace, fingers flipping over the bindings till you pulled one down.

"Here, world map," you said, and though he didn't notice, you didn't comment on the oddity of not knowing where Scotland and Ireland were. Almost everyone knew where those two countries were; or, at least, the general area.

"In Ireland fairies are seen as simply... mythical people. Great warriors and poets, or witches, they're all considered part of the fae in Celtic culture. In Scotland, though, fairies are more dangerous, essentially being creatures that feed off humans in one way or another," you continued. "Like... banshees, those are Scottish, and jack o' lanterns."

"Jack o' lanterns?"

He'd heard of banshees before; they were mentioned a few times by the Winchester brothers.

"Not like the Halloween pumpkins," you said, but when you were met with further confusion, you slowly said, "...and you don't know what those are either, do you?"

He shook his head reluctantly.

You spent the next two, whole hours talking to him, going over any question he had no matter how much you thought he should've known the answer to begin with. Jack relaxed into that feeling, into that ease, while suspicion grew in your own mind. There was no one of his age and stature that didn't know the questions he posed. Still, you found yourself unable to pin any such wariness of manipulation onto such a polite boy.

Engrossed fully in whatever you had to say and rarely speaking himself, Jack absorbed a number of facts about the fae. About their trickery and mischief, about their magic, how different species had different thoughts on humanity. Considering the lengths you knew about other subjects, none of what you told him occurred to him as suspicious. You seemed, again, to be a dedicated––but human––scholar.

When at last he exhausted his questions, both on and off topic, he began a build-up of courage. Asking someone out for a case should've been much easier than this, or at least that's what he thought. Dean mentioned he'd done similar things for other such cases.

Jack's face scrunched up in deep thought despite the silence between you.

"Are you alright, Jack?" You asked.

"Oh. I'm... fine," he said, nodding his head in a way that didn't convince you all that well. "I – I wanted to ask you something."

You nodded, gently helping him along.

"I know we don't know each other that well, but... you.. interest me, and.." he trailed off once more. It was difficult to tell a lie that was technically the truth. "I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. On a date."

He expected a number of things from you––perhaps anger, perhaps embarrassment, perhaps shock, but you just chuckled, leaning back in your chair. His brow furrowed at your odd reaction. Were you laughing at him?

"Was that what you wanted to ask me when you first came in?" You said through your giggles, your soft skin glowing in the warm, early evening light.

"... yes," he said, huffing out his own chuckle as his eyes fell to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize," you said with a grin. “You’re the one who had to listen to me ramble.”

"So.. will you..?"

"Yeah," you chuckled, nodding. "I enjoy your company as well."

A smile made a permanent home on Jack's face as he returned to the bunker, his official mission having been successfully completed, and his hands still burning with the touch you left as he walked out the door. While most of the town smelled like baking pies and cinnamon cider, the bunker carried no such warmth, and smelled more like rotting leaves than anything else, though Sam lit a couple apple candles in his room. The scent filled part of a long hallway.

He found his fathers all sitting on a single couch, facing a television that had some sort of film playing on it through the static. Jack silently stepped round the nearest chair, taking a seat beside them, and watching on intently. A soft, high note hummed from the speakers.

Red, ratted curtains pulled way for sunlight streaming through dust-filled air. The wooden windowsill had a vase in which a single, molted flower sat, most of its petals having fallen off long ago. But that wasn't where the camera stopped; it halted above the image of two women tangled in sheets similarly worn down as the curtains were, requiring many patches over large holes. One had their face pressed to the other's neck, her nose nudging a sharp jawline owned by still sleeping eyes. Their limbs were knotted tight together, chest to chest, and a quiet, sleepy melody humming out of the smaller's pale lips.

Jack frowned. He'd never seen two people so physically close together. The nearest thing he'd seen was Dean and Castiel hugging, and even that was reserved in a way. This was pure trust––pure peace, and he found himself wondering if it was entirely fictional, or if such happiness could really exist in the world that at times felt poisoned.

Maybe it did exist if you found a way to smile that brightly.

He earned a whole other course of schooling once he announced their plan was successful. Dean clapped him proudly on the back, shooting a dirty grin that Sam countered with clean praise. Even Castiel seemed to be proud. Jack beamed at that, his heartbeat now pounding at the thought of three days from now; when he had planned the date.

In the meantime, the brothers stayed up for most of the night, though they looked much worse for wear that morning than Jack after he stayed up with them. Researching faes was actually a little easier than a lot of other monsters––there were many articles about them, and a deeply-engrained fear of changeling children had led to thorough documentation on the fae realm and its inhabitants. Jack was still a little slow at typing, so Sam captained the computer research, while Jack sped through the books in the bunker's library. Dean looked through articles and stories in newspapers searching for any hint of where they children might be kept if they weren't immediately killed.

The more he read about fairies, about their habits, their composure, and their lies, the less he could picture you as one. Originally a fairy brought to mind someone beautiful and fair, or someone like you, with dazzling eyes that could stop an archangel in their step. But the sharp teeth and wicked, wirey hair didn't sound at all like you. He'd felt your hands––once brushing over his––and there were no claws or stinging sensations that lingered in your touch. Still, the Winchesters probably knew better than him, and he pushed the feeling aside.

In the next evening, after Dean took a long day nap, Sam and Dean set to packing up their tools and tricks once more, tossing them into the back of the impala with the rest of the permanent fixtures. Jack watched as they did this, his hair still neat and clean despite not sleeping or washing up for two days.

"Can I come with?" He asked in the politest voice he could manage.

They were headed off to the library under the cover of night. After hearing about several back rooms Jack noticed during his time there, a reasonable question was posed––was there more information you could be hiding?

"Uh –" Sam began, only to be cut off by Dean saying –

"No. If we get found, that's fine, but if you're with us, we lose your relationship with her."

Before Jack could reply Dean climbed into the drivers seat, followed by Sam clambering in beside him. He had issues getting into the car at times. The engine stuttered to life, and Sam waved good-bye through the windshield as they pulled and drove the car away.

Jack frowned, his brow knitted together again.

"Bye," he said, but he was the only one to hear it.

Castiel would be back soon. He decided waiting in the library would guarantee he'd see Castiel as soon as possible, something he desired, as there were a number of new questions he wanted to pose to the elder angel. Thousands of years his senior, Castiel must've had answers––some sort of insight to some strange impulses, or simply comfort against 'wrong' thoughts.

Technically your library was private, meaning others weren't allowed to take your books away from the building, but you allowed him to take something home under the assurance of a guarantee. He would return it next time he saw you, a promise that clearly meant a lot to you going by the ease that overtook you when he said 'okay' with a signature, sweet smile. The only reason you leant the book to him was because it contained information you considered thought-provoking, thoughts about how humanity evolves, and how technological advances could change the actual anatomy of the human mind. Some of the claims seemed to him to be a bit of a reach, but others brought him interesting points.

The metal latch on the door let out a resounding click as the door swung open, Castiel standing behind with wild hair and a stunned look about him. He flung the door shut before running down the stairs towards Jack.

"Have they gotten back from the library yet?" He asked as he approached.

"No, they left..." he glanced at the clock, "a couple hours ago."

"Hmm," Castiel grumbled. "That's a long time for them."

"Should we go help them?" Jack suggested, setting your book aside as he stood straighter in his chair.

"No, we'll give them some more time. See what happens," he said before he set off, jogging into the hall.

Jack sighed as he slumped back into his seat, almost mourning the death of an easy excuse to go see your library. And Castiel left before he could ask him anything. Dean had a point, though––if they were caught and he was with them, that would ruin your relationship entirely, and that was something he, for some reason, despised.

It took another hour and a half before Sam and Dean were waltzing back in from the garage, tossing their duffel bags aside and shucking off warm, autumn jackets to side chairs. Something must've given away their presence, as Castiel was quick to reenter the main room.

"How did it go?" He asked.

"Like shit," Dean said, not even bothering to stop as he passed Castiel.

"We didn't find anything," Sam clarified. "Whole place was clean."

"Well.. maybe it's at their house," Castiel said almost gingerly, turning to keep his ever-vigilant eyes on the elder Winchester. "All the tools and... stuff."

"Yeah, that's what we're hoping," Dean said as he disappeared into the hallway.

"When did you say your date was again?" Sam asked, turning to Jack, who blanked for a moment before he answered.

"Two days from now," he said.

"Alright, well... we'll see what happens," he said with a nod, setting his hands on his hips. "Hopefully find where they might be hiding the kids."

Dean reentered with a bottle in hand, taking a quick swig as he settled down into one of the cushier chairs.

Jack's heart sped when his fingers began to fidget together, squirming restlessly in front of him. Questions still lingered on the edge of his mind, and answers from anyone would do him well, though he was well aware Dean would probably be reluctant to offer any advice to him.

"Could I ask you some questions?" He asked in the general direction of Cas, who happened to be standing right beside Dean. Castiel opened his mouth to answer.

"Sure," Dean said before he could speak. Castiel promptly shut his mouth after that.

"I know this shouldn't get in the way of the case, and it won't," Jack said as he took a seat opposite Dean. He and his brother shot each other glances. "I just have strange... thoughts, when I am around the librarian. Impulses, kind of."

Dean, who had raised the bottle to his lips, paused at those words and set it down instead, a decision that shocked both Sam and Castiel.

"What kind of impulses?" He asked in a flat voice.

"I want to... eat them," Jack said slowly, his brow furrowed deeply as he looked at the ground. When he looked back up, all three men were staring at him.

"You want to what??" Castiel asked.

"Like.. put my mouth on them...?" He tried.

"Wait – you mean kissing?" Sam asked as he shifted his weight between his feet.

"N... no, I don't think it's that," Jack said, though he was growing even less sure of himself with how they continued to gawk at him.

"You want to make out with the fairy?" Dean asked with a look that screamed 'unbelievable'.

"Maybe?" was the best answer Jack could offer.

Dean sighed, rubbing his face tiredly with his free hand.

"I don't want to.. encourage these thoughts," Castiel said, "but they might help on your date."

"So I should kiss them?"

"Maybe at the end of it," Sam suggested.

"And... how do I kiss?"

"Fuckin' –" Dean muttered under his breath as he stood, leaving the room with annoyance in his scowl.

The three of them––Jack, Sam, and Castiel––watched Dean round the corner and disappear.

"Ignore him," Sam said.

Sam, with some help from Castiel, patiently re-explained the happenings and ongoings of dates, from conversation topics to activities often done on dates. Sam assured Jack that he needn't do anything dramatic, over the top, or especially original, since Jack 'wasn't actually going on a date,' a phrase that made him a little sad for a reason he couldn't identify.

A bouquet of chocolate roses lay in his hands, the neon and florescent lights of the convenience store flickering and buzzing above him. Sam insisted a good way to start a date was with a gift––conventionally flowers, but the second Jack saw the chocolate roses he was entranced. He'd never seen candy in the shape of something real. Surely you would be delighted by the art, as well. Sam was less sure than he was, but allowed him to buy it with a chuckle, muttering something about how he wouldn't need to get chocolates anymore.

"Now remember," Sam began as he adjusted Jack's collar, "blood-soaked iron is what kills them, but since we don't have that right now, I think iron should hurt them."

"Forks, fire pokers, metal pipes... those usually have iron in them," said Dean.

"And if you get into a fight, just get out of there," Sam finished.

"No hanky-panky, either," Dean said.

"Dean," he hissed, slapping his brother's arm.

"What's hanky-panky?" Jack asked, furrowing his brow.

"Nevermind, just––be safe, have fun," Sam said with a smile, patting his shoulder.

The brothers dropped him off at your house before circling the block in search of a good vantage point. He took a shaky breath as he climbed your steps, soon rapping his knuckles on the plain, wooden door. It was a bit of a task trying to swallow, but he managed to push past his tight throat and put a smile on his face.

Footsteps sounded, growing closer until the door opened, revealing your wide eyes and the olive green silk you wore, draping elegantly from your chest down to your feet. A heavyweight scarf rested upon your shoulders. The warm light of the hallway behind you illuminated the loose strands of your always messy hair, but the sight still had his lips parting as he gasped softly. He felt suddenly out of place in his simple button-down, pants, and everyday jacket, shifting his weight almost uncomfortably as he found himself at a loss for words.

"You look... really nice," he said rather awkwardly, gesturing vaguely to your outfit with a dopey smile.

"Thanks," you said, chuckling. "You look nice too."

He stared for another moment before he suddenly remembered the chocolate and foil roses in his hands.

"I got these for you," he said as he handed them to you, scanning every inch of your reaction. "Sam told me to get flowers, but I think this is better, ‘cause then you get to eat them."

"You actually can eat roses! They just don't taste very good," you giggled, fixing your hair as you took them, a blushing smile still on your face. "I do like chocolate more, though."

"Oh, good," he said, his shoulders finally falling from their tense position. "I hope you don't mind walking. I don't know how to drive."

"I like walking, actually," you said as you walked past him, trotting down the front steps of your house. He followed along, his soft brown hair flopping like a puppy's ears over innocent eyes. "I like taking walks at night, but I don't take them a lot. It's kind of dangerous."

"Why?"

"A lot of people aren't very nice, or they're down on their luck and make poor decisions. I don't want to get hurt or mugged just because I like wandering around."

"Why would someone hurt you? You're such a nice person," he said with a frown.

"That doesn't mean anything," you laughed softly.

Food wasn't a particular attraction of Kansas, but few things were. The amount of restaurants in town was high, most of them serving a very similar menu containing lots of meat, barbecue, pie, and sometimes funnel cake. None were all that classy, so Jack took you to a place that Sam recommended––a nearly 24 hours open cafe whose kitchen was always open, and who hosted quiet, live jazz on select evenings.

You and Jack spoke of a number of things while you walked, none more interesting than any of your previous conversation topics, as you seemed to want to stay on the topic of him as a person rather than the history you usually rambled about. You asked who Sam was, which he explained as one of his fathers, at which point you asked who the second was. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should tell the truth or formulate a more normal-person lie.

"I... my mother died in childbirth," he said, his voice uncharacteristically low and quiet, murmuring with the sureness of his trust in you. "My father, Castiel, takes care of me, with his brothers, Sam and Dean."

"Oh. I'm sorry," you murmured, and he opened his mouth to give the usual speech––it's alright, I've gotten used to it––but you continued with, "it's an honorable way to die."

He paused to absorb your words. No one had ever said that before.

"Yeah," he finally said. "I guess you're right."

"So what's your father like?"

He sucked in a breath, forced to once again decide between a truth, a half-truth, and a lie. Like with most things, he took the middle road.

"My genetic father isn't... I don't talk to him," he said.

"Oh."

"But Castiel is good. He always tries to do what's right. I'm still trying to learn about this whole.. being-alive thing, from him."

"I think we all are," you chuckled.

You ended up ordering for him when you finally got to the cafe, standing in line for only a few minutes before you were looking for a table. He had trouble understanding the menu, often asking you what things were, and eventually you had to gently push him on to let the next people in line have a turn. If this bothered you, it didn't show.

Piano and saxophone played in time with one another, their rhythms and melodies dancing around the beat of the drummer. Scant, warm light shone from above, illuminating the haze of clouds drifting from smokers, most of whom stood in the corner, nursing the embers as they watched the musicians play. Jack tapped his foot to the beat against the dark oak floor.

You joined him a moment later, two coffees in hand and your coat draped over your arm.

"Have you ever been here before?" You asked as you took a seat, casting your jacket over the back of the chair after you set the coffee down.

"No, I don't really get out much," he admitted.

"How come?"

"I don't.. really have friends," he admitted, again, though this time much more reluctantly. He'd heard that generally people respected you more if you had friends.

"That's alright," you said, leaning back with a soft smile made only more alluring by the dim, red and orange light. "I've found it's more fun to stay in than to go out sometimes. Everything becomes the same after a while. You can drink at home, you can dance at home, sing, host parties..." you sipped from your steaming cup, ".. so, obviously, I don't go out much either."

"You have friends, though?"

"Not really," you chuckled, glancing down. "Books last longer than conversation, generally."

"Then... why talk to me?" He asked, attempting to meet your eye with that knot still tucked into his brow.

"Because you came to me."

Soon your conversation was halted by a server bringing out your food. You made sure to thank him as he left, before hungry eyes settled eagerly upon your funnel cake. Unwrapping the napkin, you set the orange cloth on your lap, revealing your silverware. Jack followed your lead, copying your motions near exactly down to you rubbing your hands together excitedly.

He'd never tried funnel cake before, leaving him to melt as he took his first bite.

"Good, isn't it?" You chuckled through a full mouth.

He nodded ardently.

The crowd began to thin halfway through your meal, turning thick conversation to quiet murmurs confined to singular tables in corners and shadowed areas. Jack still had yet to find anything incriminating about you, an answer that led only to other questions, ones that flew wildly around his head.

You didn't seem human––at least, not entirely. There were things you said that hinted to something else, a knowledge within that was a little too wide for the lengths of a human mind. That and your soul; what he could see of your soul was strangely colored, florescent holographic, and warped far more than normal people's usually were––almost as warped as Sam and Dean's souls now were. Bright, yes, but warped. Something had happened to you.

But there was nothing bad within you. Darkness tinted the edges, the edges so often scraped by the world around you––the world around both of you––but the center within, where your heart emanated, was clear. It was actually rather beautiful; you were rather beautiful.

He wished he could tell you without seeming strange.

"What do you think about most, Jack?" You asked, pulling him away from his thoughts.

He instantly stuttered, as what he'd been thinking about was you, but he couldn't say that.

"Just.. uh, my, uh.. my place in the world," he said, tapping the end of his fork on the old wood table.

"Like your job, or your purpose as a human?" You asked as you sipped from your third refill of coffee.

"My purpose, sort of," he said, his eyes flickering to the ground. "I have a lot of responsibility. My father thinks I'm very powerful."

Was that giving too much away?

"What does he want you to do?"

"He wants me... to stay alive," he said, earning a soft chuckle from you that had a smile spreading across his own face. "I think he wants me to be safe and happy."

"That's a wonderful goal," you said with a grin. "And there are so many ways to achieve that."

So far he'd only found ways to achieve the opposite––how to antagonize the world by existing, how his grandfather wanted him dead, how his genetic father would use him for any power grab he posed. If you wanted to feel at risk of dying at any moment, he knew a thousand ways to do it.

"I haven't really found any," he said quietly.

You paused before you asked, "do you want my advice?"

He nodded, hesitantly at first, but sure of himself when you smiled softly.

"Always be kind to others. Mind your own business unless someone is getting hurt, and if you have to get your hands dirty, do it for only a second. Then get the hell out of there and wash yourself clean for the next hundred couple years," you said.

There it was again. A hint of something more. In passing conversations Jack heard from strangers, no one spoke like they lived history. Not like you did. And he'd wager no historian spoke with the sense of memory that you did.

"Anything specific make you realize that?" He asked, unable to stop himself from chuckling.

You looked his age––sometime in your 20's––but you spoke like an 80 year old. Something about that facade appeared humorous to him. He also looked your age––sometime in his 20′s––but he spoke like a 10 year old far more than he liked to admit.

"Family drama," you said dismissively. "I've been steering clear for a while now."

Did fairies have families?

Well, if you were a fairy, you could just be lying then.

Jack frowned. If Dean or Castiel were here, they would know what to say and think.

"I understand," was what he said instead.

The impala was still parked near the house by the time Jack was walking you home, a sight that nearly sent him panicking. Sam and Dean wouldn't want him to do that. So he clenched his fists in his pockets, his shoulders tightening ever so slightly as he tried to slow his pace in a way you wouldn't notice.

But you did. Of course you did.

"You alright, Jack?" You asked, matching his pace.

"Yeah, I just..." what was something normal to say? Something he could back up – "I meant to ask you something, but I didn't ever... find the time to."

"What was it you wanted to ask?"

He shivered as a brisk wind picked up, the dry, orange leaves on the edges of the sidewalk passing quick by his feet in the breeze.

"Do you think everyone feels this lost in life?" He asked, barely audible above the wind.

"There's a little bit of you in everybody, just like how there's a little bit of everybody in you. You're capable of the same things that a murderer is just as you are a... a hero, or a martyr," you said, taking time to think before you spoke. "Humans are remarkably similar, you come to see after a while. And even Gods face these questions, these wonderings of their origins and their purpose, if their creations are everything they're meant for or – or if they're doing something wrong, and they should be doing something else instead."

He continued to stare at the ground as you walked slowly side by side, brought out of his intense expression by something soft flopping over the back of his neck. His heart thrummed as you stopped him there, turning him to face you, and looking him in the eye as you fixed your scarf on his shoulders. The effect was instantaneous––his shoulders relaxed and the stress fell from his brow, absorbed in the warmth of your gesture.

"Whatever you're going through," you gave him a pointed look, telling him silently to not deny this truth, "is worse and better than what other people go through. It may not be the best but it's probably not the worst."

Your advice, though insightful, didn't mean much considering his problems had to do with the continued life or prompt execution of the entire universe by a bitter, old man. But the main point remained; there were more painful deaths than his, just as there were better ways to die than he would or will. He may not be facing the best circumstances, but they could be much worse, and the fact that normal humans often asked the same questions he did was more of a comfort than he thought it would be. Perhaps he really was connected to his mother in that way.

The steps creaked beneath your shared weight as you both approached the front door of your house. You opened the door, stepping partway through the threshold before you turned to him, hesitation lacing your open mouth.

Behind you, Jack managed to spot two shadowed figures running across the hallway towards what he presumed to be a back door. His eyes widened imperceptibly and he pursed his lips, quick averting his gaze back to you.

"You're special, Jack," you said quietly, scanning him with a careful look. "Don't let bad circumstances own you. You only get so much time in this world."

"You're very kind," was all he could managed to respond with. "Thanks for... going out with me tonight."

"Of course. I like talking to you."

"I'm glad you do," he said with a sheepish chuckle, one you mimicked as you fixed your hair.

"I'll see you again soon?"

"Yes, I – oh," he interrupted himself, remembering your scarf still enveloping him, "this belongs to you."

"Don't worry about it," you said, taking his arms and settling them back down to his sides. "It's kind of cold out tonight, and I'm assuming you're walking home... aren't you?"

"... yeah," he lied, blood rushing to his face at the thought of taking a piece of you home.

"Then I'll get it back another time," you said, smiling.

You hesitated to close the door again, and instead you gingerly moved forward, raising yourself to press a single, soft kiss to his cheek, the edge of it just barely touching his lips. His mouth parted in surprise, but before he could say anything you shut the door.

He walked back to the impala completely starstruck.

"I don't think they're dangerous," Jack said, restating what he'd said earlier to Sam and Dean on the drive home––he just couldn't see you as suspicious. Strange, yes, but not murderous.

"If what you say is true, though, then this is quite likely a fae," said Castiel as his eyes flickered from Jack to Sam and Dean.

"See? Facts are facts, kid," Dean said, pointing to Castiel with a smile.

"Hexbags, crystals, actual photos with them from, like, 1890? And the amount of plants," Sam continued with a slight shudder.

"How many plants were there?" Castiel asked, frowning sternly.

"Too damn many," Dean answered for him. "The point is, we gotta interrogate that thing."

"They didn't do anything wrong!" Jack said, his voice tripling without his knowledge.

Everyone in the room reacted accordingly––stiff postures and sharp breaths as the golden light faded in his eyes.

"Jack..." Castiel began hesitantly, his voice quiet and low.

He barely uttered out an 'I'm sorry,' before he turned and left, disappearing down the hallway and into his room.

It took him nearly a whole day to leave his room, having spent most of the time alone to brood and ponder over his actions, and whether or not he was being manipulated by a fairy creature. He couldn't deny the fact that there was a chance he was wrong and he was under your control, thus landing him with the only sane decision, somehow; trust Sam and Dean.

Silence surrounded him as he padded through the bunker, headed towards the kitchens after not eating for nearly 24 hours. Technically he could live without food for much, much longer than that, even without sleep, but it wasn't a particularly pleasant experience.

When he reached the kitchen he also found it empty. In fact, the whole bunker sounded empty, leaving all the cereal for him. He smiled.

Sam and Dean returned before Castiel did, though after their return they hid away doing 'private business' in the basement area. Jack tried to ask what it was they were doing, but Dean curtly brushed him off, sending him back upstairs to go clean up the mess they left in the kitchen after a quick, midnight dinner.

As he was scrubbing the dishes, a door lock clattered in the distance, marking Castiel's return. Now that the fort was manned again, he could sneak off to see you in the morning. Castiel informed him that showing up at people's houses at midnight could be seen in a very bad way. He knew you wouldn't judge him, but he still didn't want to embarrass himself, and it was only a few more hours to wait till dawn.

He could fly. He could also ask Sam or Dean to drive him (while he could also ask to drive Baby, he knew the answer would be an ardent no), but the grey clouds promised rain, and the smell of rain hitting the leaf-covered earth pleasured his mind. With your scarf wrapped around him, he could avoid the cold as well.

His feet were a little tired by the time your library came into view, though still warm in the crisp air from fuzzy, woolen socks. The frayed edges of your scarf fluttered about chaotically in the wind as he noticed something rather odd––the library wasn't open. None of the lights were turned on, the chairs were still atop the tables, and you were nowhere to be seen. He had left the bunker a little early, but you always opened by 5AM at the latest, and it was 8 now.

For several minutes he hadn't a clue as to what to do, meaning he stood motionless in silence in front of the glass door, his head tilting slowly to the side in confusion. Maybe you woke up late––that would explain it. You were perfectly safe in your bed, dozing after a good night's sleep, completely unharmed.

But things rarely worked out so easily for Jack. Your home was empty, no sign of your disappearance left as your shoes, jacket, keys, and wallet were still left by the front door. In a sudden panic at the thought of your absence, the world around him flickered for a split second before he appeared in the bunker's war room. Knowing the usual fate of the people he cared about, you were probably being hurt, perhaps kidnapped by the actual fae who'd been killing the children, or lost of your own volition in a forest you wandered too far into.

"Castiel." Jack grabbed the angel's coat sleeve, stopping him on the way to the stairs. "I went looking for the librarian and they're missing."

"Missing?" Castiel repeated with a grimace. "Did you check the library and the house?"

"Yes, I couldn't find them."

"They might be headed for the children," he said, sending a pang through Jack's heart that he ignored.

"Is... is there a way to track a fae?"

"There's no spell I know of," Castiel said, his gaze falling to the floor as he scanned his mind. "But if it's a magical creature, it may carry a sort of... a sort of scent."

"A scent?" Jack furrowed his brow, wondering if something could carry your scent.

Something you'd been around a while. Something like your books, or your bed, or –

Jack jumped after he realized he was still wearing your scarf which, despite its' time with Jack in his room, still smelled of you. He shoved it into Castiel's arms, but he only gave him a confused look.

"It's their scarf," he explained.

Castiel spared him from the embarrassment of explaining how he'd gotten it.

He held the crumpled scarf in his hand up to his nose, intaking a deep breath with closed eyes. Jack hadn't ever heard of this kind of tracking, which was odd since he inherently knew most things about angels, but he would never distrust his father. What he did distrust was the churning feeling in his chest, as though a curved knife had impaled itself in him and twisted slowly through his skin.

Doubts pervaded both angels almost immediately as Castiel followed the trail. It led near to the stairs, but took a harsh turn and went into the hallway, leading them further into the bunker.

"Are you sure this is theirs?" Castiel asked as they hurried down the hall.

"Positive," he said, earning a sigh and a nod from Castiel.

They continued, this time less sure of themselves, as the scarf continued to lead them through the bunker, trotting down stairs till they landed in the base floor. Here the walls, ceiling, and floor were made of thick cement, allowing their footsteps to echo around the empty halls.

Jack picked up the pace and Castiel followed, running after the trail that ended right in front of the dungeon door. The torture room door, where monsters were locked up, and sometimes friends as well. A sort of fury was boiling in his blood despite his earlier acceptance of the Winchester's plan. Keeping you here in secret was never something he agreed to.

Without even fully realizing it, Jack was wrenching open the handle, the door whizzing open and slamming against the wall with a resounding crack. There, in the center of a pentagram, you were bound to a chair with thick, iron chains, your molted form flanked by Sam and Dean. The latter carried a knife in his hand, one covered in dripping blood. Sam whirled around at the sound of the door opening, meaning he was the first to see Jack's glowing eyes, and the suddenly panicked expression on Castiel's face.

"What are you doing to them?" Castiel growled with wide eyes, taking long, quick steps over in front of you. Without hesitation he undid the restraints, letting you fall down to the floor.

"Cas, they're a fae," Dean said, his tone stern and curt.

"No, they're not," Castiel replied, his own voice equally as sure. "I can't.. blame you, for not knowing this. You're only human. But it's obvious to me."

Sam opened his crossed arms, waiting for the angel to explain himself. Meanwhile, Jack regained his composure after being shocked by Castiel's actions, and made his way over to you, kneeling at your side. You'd been cut in a few different places––nothing too grievous, at least not by Winchester standards––and drops of your blood painted streaks down your sweaty skin.

"They're an Old God," Castiel finally said, but the words were followed by silence.

"We're just supposed to know what that is?" Dean asked gruffly.

"I thought your brother might," he said in a quiet voice.

Dean unfolded his arms, shifting his weight as he cast a glance to his brother.

"Old Gods are... ancient deities created by wandering bands of hunter-gatherers in your past. They got their power from their worshippers, not from Chuck, which... made them very different, to say the least," Castiel continued, still keeping his voice soft as he raised his hand above several of your wounds, stitching the skin back together with his grace.

"I've heard of hunter and gatherers," Jack said as he recalled some of the books in your library. "They wandered in bands of around 50 to 100 people."

He earned several unimpressed stares.

"Well – if they got their power from worshippers, how's this one still alive?" Sam asked after a moment of silence.

"I don't know," Castiel admitted. "I've never met this one before."

"Okay, just because they're not a fae doesn't mean they aren't the one that killed those kids," Dean said, interrupting their short conversation.

The iron knife still twirled in his hands; the only weapon against fairies. Jack kept a close eye on it as they spoke.

"An Old God would never hurt a human," Castiel said with such an intensity that no one had any choice but to believe him. “And besides,” he turned back to you, “they would’ve lost their powers long ago when humans stopped believing in them.”

Your eyes listed open while you lay in Jack's hold, the swirling image of your friend coming lazily into view.

"... Jack?" You mumbled, struggling to keep your eyelids up.

His gaze shot down to you, eyes widening at the sight of your movement.

"Hey," he said softly, hushing you when you tried to speak. "Are you okay?"

You mustered your strength to nod.

"I'm assuming you're an agricultural God," Castiel said after a moment of watching the two of you interact. "You look to be around 12,000 years old." He looked up to Dean and Sam. "That's how old agriculture is."

"Yeah, I know," Sam scoffed, but Dean remained silent.

"Do I really look that old?" You asked, laughing through your slurred words.

"Your soul does," Castiel answered.

You hummed weakly in response, drifting back into unconsciousness, your body going limp in Jack's arms.

Jack healed what remaining injuries you had, using it partway as an excuse to touch you. His palms set flat on the cuts, and with you far off in your dreams, you didn't feel the burn or the relief of his healing. He thought first to bring to his room to lay you on his bed, but Sam gently suggested that you should be put in one of their many spare bedrooms.

Castiel and the Winchesters attempted to take his mind off of you, but it wasn't long before he was back at your side, waiting for you to wake up again. He scanned your body constantly with his mind, searching for any hidden injuries he might've missed the first time around. The case remained unsolved, the children still missing and the culprit unknown. Your disqualifying left the Winchesters with no more suspects, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to worry about a creature that wouldn’t strike again for another ten years when you wouldn’t wake up to his voice calling your name.

It took hours until you stirred again, eyes fluttering into a half-open state as they fell to Jack. He had his head hung low, his elbows leant on his knees, and his hair drooping in front of his face.

"I was created in Turkey," you rasped out through a dry throat.

At the slightest sound his head shot up, eyes widening with a spark upon seeing your soft smile.

"It's a country, by the way," you mumbled, correctly assuming Jack didn't know the country, and only knew the bird. "At a place they call Gobekli Tepe, now. The people of the land would... would gather there, and share their cultured seeds, and the magic needed to make them grow."

"Magic?"

"Simple water and sunlight," you said with a weak chuckle. "It was magic to them. Everything was."

You fell silent before you said, "I miss them."

"Were they different? From people now?" Jack asked.

"Very," you nodded assuredly. "But there are some people, nowadays, that remind me of them."

He chuckled quietly. Warmth spread from your touch when you reached forward, just barely gracing his hand with yours. He took the initiative, entangling your fingers together, and watching intently as your thumb ran over the back of his hand.

"You are a new God, aren't you?" You asked, narrowing your eyes curiously, with no sense of hostility.

"I'm... I'm a nephilim. Lucifer's son, actually, but I promise I'm not like him," he said, gripping you tighter.

"A nephilim?" You asked with a frown.

"The son of an angel," he clarified.

It was the first time he was able to tell you something you didn't know instead of the other way around.

"I've never heard of angels."

His brows raised in surprise.

"Really?" He asked.

"I haven't really kept up with the world as of recent. When did angels first appear?"

"I... don't know," he said after wracking his brain and finding no answer. "Castiel might know."

"Castiel.. Castiel, that was your father, right?"

"Yeah. The good one," he said, earning a chuckle from you that brought a blush to his face.

"He is another God?"

"Another angel, yes," he nodded. "(Y/N), I... I have so many questions for you."

"About what?" You asked skeptically, giving him a playful glare.

"About humans, mostly," he said. "I mean, I've already been asking you questions, but now I know you have a lot more answers than I thought."

"Yes, well, I do keep my memory stored in a mushroom," you muttered beneath your breath.

Jack frowned. Was that normal?

"Can you tell me about them?" He asked, just barely masking his eagerness.

"My people?"

He nodded, and you smiled softly, your eyes glazing over as you recalled thousands of years past.

#jack kline x reader #supernatural #spn #jack kline

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