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ssatoritendou · 4 years

Text

Dragon Queen

Pairing: bakugou/reader

katsuki bakugou

Word count: 2.3k

+ summary: You and your siblings are orphans, you were the oldest and needed to take care of them. You didn’t think it was wrong from stealing from the Prince soon to be King would be bad.

Genre: Medieval AU; fluff

Warning: Cursing, suggestive content

"Shitty Hair where is my fucking sword!?” Prince Bakugou yelled across the room. "I don't know. Check the throne room or the dungeon." Kirishima yelled back. "This like the 18th fucking thing that's gone missing." "Bakugou man your mom needs you in the throne room." "Tell the Hag I'm not interested. I just want to travel to have those Princess sluts at my feet." Bakugou argued back. "Listen to me, you tell that Brat that he will get his ass down here now!” The angry Queen yelled from the throne room. "Hmph." The prince grabbed his cloak and walked downstairs. He was met with Kirishima at the bottom of the stairs opening his mouth to say something.”I heard, Kirishima get your shit together and wait outside. I'll be out in no time." "But Baku-" "Just do it. And be in a position so we can get out of here." He walked into the throne room, the Princesses his mother picked for him were ogling him again. "Not a chance in hell Hag. I will marry when I want to. When I do it will be someone I choose and certainly not a princess or of high standing.” He said with spite in staring directly into the Princesses eyes. Of course, He knew she wouldn't accept his terms. "Katsuki, you need to be married. You will be coronated soon to become the next King ever since your father died. Our kingdom needs-" "I'm leaving and when I come back I will come back with a bride and if not you can pick one I will marry. Shitty Hair let's go." He hopped onto Kirishima and left the island.

"So Bakugou where are we off to? Raid some pirates, tavern hopping, or-" "I need to find my sword. We are going to the trade market. It's worth a lot of money. Any sad sack that stole my sword would know that." "Weren't we just there?" "Exactly Shitty Hair. We got back yesterday drunk off our asses and someone must have stolen it off of me. When we got home we slept it off. We have been there multiple times and each time something of mine went missing. Find the robber and deal with him and then...I have to find a bride." "Bakugou how are you going to find a bride?" "I DON"T KNOW SHITTY HAIR!"

"If it isn't the Great Dragon King and his pet again. Two days in a row. What brings you in today?" "Did you see anybody hanging around me and the dragon?" "Mainly just girls. All wanting to be queen. No one out of the ordinary to me." The bartender responded. “Damnit.” He said frustrated. “Shitty hair let's go to the market." The pair was wandering around for a while before Kirishima said something. "Bakugou isn't that your knife?" "Which one dumbass? This a table full of knives and swords." "That one with the emerald stone. I remember it because you threw it at Prince Shoto when he beat you in a sword fight." "Oh yeah. Hey, where'd ya get this?" "This type of knife here is a rare silver and gold plated base with a jewel stone in crested in the handle." "I'm not looking to buy it! I want to know who gave it to you to sell so they could get some profit!" Bakugou lunged forward and had the man in his hands. "Bakugou-" "Shut it Kirishima!" "I can't tell you she kill me and her little minions too." "It's either me or her. Right now who are you more afraid of?" "She lives in the forest with other children. She steals from out of towners." "Did she give you a sword?" "No. I haven't seen her in weeks. No one here has. She sells to all of us and we give her 20% of the profit." "Thanks. Here's some cash. Alright, Shitty Hair we are going to the woods."

"_____ we are going to the stream.”Your little sisters said. "Ok bring b/n with you two. The last time you two went you nearly fell in and were taken by the current." “Ok, we promise. See you for dinner." The two little girls left with b/n. You lived in the woods with other orphans. You were the oldest and had to take care of them. Your orphanage was destroyed and you couldn't leave them behind. You also had to find a way to provide for them. You had come up with a plan to take care of everyone. Stealing from out of towners, selling it to merchants, and getting some profit back wouldn't be so bad. Some of their quirks were a little frightening and so was yours. No one dared to cross your family in fear of their lives. "_____ I found that berry plant again. I thought it would make a great side dish tonight.” Your little brother said to you. "That's perfect, g/n. You go and wash them and b/n is preparing the meat and I'm preparing the salad. g/n and g/n are baking. And I believe b/n is chopping wood." "Alright. Cool, where did you get the sword?" He gestured to the shiny sword sitting on the dinner table. "I was about to ask that question myself?" You turned to see a man on a dragon with b/n and the twins. 'GOD he is attractive.- Hold up children endanger because hot man is holding them captive. Must fight girly instants.' "Hey put them down this instant!" "Oh, I will once I get back what was stolen from me." "I didn't steal it. I permanently borrowed it. Put those kids down or suffer the consequences." "Oh, what are little children and a shitty girl going to do?" “b/n do it now." b/n put his hand in the dragon activating his quirk. The dragon turned back to a person. Then g/n opened a portal for them to hit the ground safely. She also made a portal for the men and transported them to the ground. Her sister went over to them and knocked them out. "What do we do with them now _____?" "Well, I guess they are joining us for dinner," You smirked.

"Look who joined us finally _____!" b/n cheered next to me. Bakugou awoke out of his slumber and he was being held captive by a boy with branches coming out of his neck. "Let me go! You have no clue what I'm capable of!" “b/n don't need to aggravate the little firecracker. King Bakugou right? Can't activate your quirk if I have someone that can cancel it out for you." The shitty girl was pouring everyone a drink. "What is King Aizawa here or something?" "Hehehe, no no I'm not related to him. I'm flattered though." Your younger brother laughed. "I just came to get my sword back." "No can do. Sword can catch me and my siblings a pretty penny or more. We need it to survive you are a King get another one." "It has value to me." "I'll have to think about it over dinner. Kirishima is the roast done?" You turned your head to Kirishima as he was explaining to a set of twin girls how to cook meat. "What the fuck Shitty Hair!?" "Language!" The group yelled at the angry blonde. "Hey, Bakugou man. They were very nice to me and I offered to help cook." "How the hell am I supposed to eat?" He gestured to the tree branches around him. "I'll feed you." The shitty girl smiled. "I rather starve." "You really want the sword back you should pay nice with _____. I'm b/n by the way. It's very nice to meet you King Bakugou." "Whatever." "Fine then starve." b/n said with annoyance in his tone. "You don't need to be rude, b/n. I guess he doesn't really value this sword." "Wait...Fine, you can feed me." He grumbled. "I have never seen him cave like that," Kirishima whispered to you. "I have that effect on cocky men." "EH, YOU HA-" "You shouldn't really yell at me. Kirishima has been lovely to us and but I wouldn’t hesitate to kill him and you too. I might have to teach a lesson on manners. And I'm not afraid to get violent." She smiled an evil smile that looked innocent. Bakugou felt something in his chest...thump...thump. 'Nope, not a chance in hell! I rather spend the day with Deku and listen to him talk about Knight All Might.' "Ok kids go wash your hands and then we will feast." "Um _____ can you bring me the soap and water?" "Of course. " You brought the items over to the boy that was holding Bakugou with the branches. She helped him wash his hands. "Bakugou what would you like on your plate?" "Everything." You gathered a plate for him. "We only have water. Once we had wine but someone here drank it all." You glared at your brother holding him. "I thought it was prune juice." "Sure." "Wasn't fun either with you messing with the gravity." "Hehe." She giggled. "Ok open up." She brought the fork to the stubborn male's mouth and he began to slowly eat his food.

You fed him before you fed yourself. And when everybody was finished for dinner there was almost nothing left for you. It didn’t bother you though. But it bothers Bakugou. He began thinking ‘I wished I hadn't eaten so much. I wanted her to have everything she needed.’ "You were good at dinner Bakugou. You can let him go b/n. We are going to negotiate. Bring everybody inside." The boy rolled his eyes and let Bakugou go and brought everybody inside the small cabin. "So how much are you willing to pay for the sword?" "I never asked your name?" "_____. I ask again how much?" "_____ this sword was given to me by my father as a gift. He died a couple of months ago due to old age and not taking care of his body. I couldn't put a price on it." "Do you or do you not want it back?" "You don't seem to care it's a gift from my father?" "Why should I? We live in free territory land, a trading stop for all kingdoms we are ruled by no one. He wasn't my king. And parents have little value to me. Mine gave me up, only people to ever care about me are those kids and myself." "How about a deal for the sword?" "A deal? I just want money." You stated bluntly. "I want to marry you." "What?" "You can be the queen of my land, rule with me, have everything you want. The brats can come too. I think they could grow on me." He was down on one knee holding your hand. He looked up at you to see you blushing. "Why me? I'm just some commoner and I'm sure there are Princesses that are a better candidate-" Katsuki placed his lips on you gently. "Have you ever met a Princess?" He laughed. "You think I would want to marry that type of girl?" "You would probably kill the Princess you marry." "Haha. Then let's go tell the troops we're leaving."

“b/n are you sure it's working?" His sister asked him. "Yes, I use it all the time when _____ is talking about new places to steal. Now hush." He was still connected to the plant life around the cabin and could listen to what was going on. "I want to marry you." "What?" "You can be the queen of my land, rule with me, have everything you want. The brats can come too. I think they could grow on me." "Have you ever met a Princess?" there was a slight chuckle. "You think I would want to marry that type of girl?" "You would probably kill the Princess you marry." "Haha. Then let's go tell the troops we're leaving." "We are moving to the castle!" He screamed in excitement. "Damnit! b/n I was going to tell you that. Stop listening in that is very rude." _____ scolded him again. "Sorry. Couldn't help it." "You are going to marry this hot head?" Kirishima said. "Watch it Shitty Hair." The king warned. "Thank you, Thank you so much. That means he does have a heart in there somewhere." He was on his knees sobbing to _____. "Pull yourself together Dumbass."

The group arrived back at the castle with _____ and all of ‘her brats’ as Katsuki put it. "Mother I found a bride!" "Yeah right what wench did you pay to set this thing off for a year before you actually marry her?" "_____ my love please come in." You walked into the throne room and your siblings trailing behind you with Kirishima. "Katsuki she is beautiful...Wait what's with the brats?" "They are my siblings, your majesty. We were orphans and I took them in and provided for them myself." "How so?" "Permanently borrowing things and selling them for a profit." "You don't need to make it sound fancy _____. She stole and threaten merchants to give her a profit after they sold it." Bakugou said bluntly. "Ha, yeah that's what I did. It was easy with cocky men like Katsuki over here." "I'm not cocky!" "Yes, you are." You and his mother said at the same time. You two looked at each other and laughed. "Don't you dare laugh at my expanse you Hag!" "Katsuki don't raise your voice at your mother that is very rude." "She is your wife. Quick Kirishima get the priest." "Hag, I want her to have a grand wedding and everybody to be invited. In every kingdom. Even dumbass Icy-Hot's kingdom.” He held you close to my waist and dipped her down and this time he planted a forceful kiss upon you. You went weak in the knees and fell right into Bakugou. He picked you up and rushed you out of the throne room. "Kirishima, show the brats the castle. We will be back down tomorrow morning." He smiled seductively at you. "Katsuki! Not in front of the kids and isn't against royal rules to be with your betrothed before your wedding day?" "You are looking at the royal rule-breaker here, my little thief. Besides you have to be punished for stealing my property. You have to please your King."

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dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years

Text

Quasi-Confession

Alastor visits @hiss-and-vinegar Sir Pentious in the boiler room and then shit hits the fans.

Listen. Some of y’all are following for the relationship drama, right? For the soap opera action? That good good telenovela shit? This is the thread you want to read. This is the thread you’ve been waiting for. It’s got what you want. It’s got what you crave. It’s got this:

Sir Pentious moves back, out of the way suddenly, staring at Alastor like he's a different person. Was this even possible? He.... "ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH ME, ALASSSTOR???"

Brace yourselves for an emotional roller coaster.

Sir Pentious

Local snake is waiting in the boiler room, which is still pretty difficult to navigate. Watch your head, you might bump it on a pipe or cable. Or some slab of metal. Sir Pentious has an easy time moving around in here, CLEARLY you are just clumsy. He's flicking about on his phone, sending another message to Alastor to let him know where he can be found.

He sends his usual tophat :3 emoji along with it.

Alastor

It’s mere seconds before Alastor replies with a “🎶 ✔️✔️✔️” and only a few more seconds after that before he’s arrived, knocking on the door before letting himself in with a cheery “Hello~!”

He COULD have just teleported straight into the room rather than in front of the door. But he remembers how that went for his double. He’s not risking it.

Sir Pentious

Ah! There's that familiar radio voice. Penny's head swivels towards the source and he leans back against a workbench, flicking his tongue as he waves to the deerman.

"GREETINGSSSS, ALASSSTOR! GIVE ME YOUR HAND! OH, AND, I WANT TO SSSSEEE THE MUG, AS WELL."

Alastor

"Of course!" He offers over the travel mug with stacked layers of unhappy sinners depicting the rings of hell printed around it. "All of Hell, just for you, as well deserved. And mercifully free of any sad excuses for watered-down tea."

Although he was briefly tempted to fill it with hot water and claim it was one-second tea.

“Left or right?” He holds out both hands anyway, Sir Pentious can take whichever one he wants. (Also check out that bling on his left wrist. He’s got that watch Sir Pentious stole for him.) “You know I’m always eager to lend a hand, but I didn’t think it was going to be so literal!”

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious reaches over to take the mug, purrrrring as he looks it over. It is absolutely just a travel mug, but it was an offering! He is going to put it on his workbench.

Oh, and he does notice that watch! A large toothy grin spreads upon his face, and he takes hold of Alastor's left hand. That's more common for rings, isn't it?

The ring from Valera is clearly visible on his own hand. It shines in the warmth of the boiler room's lights.

Sir Pentious adjusts those multiple lensed glasses of his to get more accurate measurements, careful yet at the same time, rough. He squeezed at finger joints and pinched skin... He could be taking measurements for all kinds of things at this rate.

"GOOD TO SSEE YOU'RE GETTING USE OUT OF THE WATCH, ALASSSTOR! HAS IT HELPED YOU?"

Alastor

He got a horrible rasping cobra purr! He'd steal every tacky gimmicky mug from every cheesy souvenir shop in Pentagram City if he thought they'd earn him more purrs. (He didn't *buy* the mug, obviously.)

“Yes indeed!” He’s enjoyed admiring it. And listening to it tick. Sometimes he even checks the time with it, although he’s generally got a razor sharp internal clock. A big help. “And quite a handsome accessory it’s made, too! But then I knew I could trust your sense of style.”

He tries not to get overly lost in the sensation of his hand being manipulated. Those were such PRECISE measurements... By this point he has no idea what in the world Sir Pentious needs these measurements for, but considering the quantity he’s taking... After a moment of hesitation, Alastor asks, “How precise do these measurements need to be? Would taking my glove off help?”

Sir Pentious

The question stirs him, and Pentious tilts his head in thought. "WELL, NO... I CAN BUILD ANYTHING *UPON* YOUR GLOVE." There's that grin again, "I'VE NEVER SEEN YOU WITHOUT THEM! IT WOULD BE *INVASIVE*, WOULD IT NOT?"

Alastor

What in the world is he building? Alastor’s current best guess is a weapon. Some kind of mechanical robot glove. Something that needs fairly precise but not skintight dimensions. “It would only be invasive if you *demanded.* I’m freely volunteering it! But, no, I wouldn’t take my gloves off around just anyone.”

Sir Pentious

Tongue flick. Once. Twice. Sir Pentious takes the other hand, checking for any inconsistencies.

"UNLESS YOUR HANDS ARE GROTESQUE IN SSSSOME WAY, I NEED NOT SSSEE THEM! MY CURIOUSSSITY ISS NOT PIQUED!"

Is it weird to offer that? He's going to think on it idly later.

Alastor

“They’re shockingly normal,” he reassures him. “So if your measurements don’t need to be that precise, there’s no need for it!”

He’s not quite sure if he’s disappointed or relieved. Relieved, probably. He said it wouldn’t be invasive, but in truth he would feel more than a little exposed with his ungloved hand in someone’s grip.

Sir Pentious

He finally seems to finish up, and Penny scribbles down all the measurements he'd taken, with a barely legible scrawl. This was not the writing he used for letters, this was definitely his engineering scrawl.

"THERE WE ARE!! ALL FINISHED!!" Prr prr prr prr, "WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO NOW?"

Alastor

He’s studying Sir Pentious’s handwriting off and on as he scribbles, until he stops writing and Alastor focuses directly on his face as he speaks.

Oh—happy sounds. Alastor automatically echoes them in pulses of static. “Well—a fine question! What’s there to do down here?” He glances around the boiler room... then settles his gaze on Sir Pentious’s throat. “How about you give me that bow tie you promised me weeks ago, hm?”

Sir Pentious

Oh the eyes on his neck get a squint out of him, but the words that follow are more reassuring.

"OH, THAT OLD THING? I'D NEARLY FORGOTTEN."

Luckily he kept a bunch of random things in his jacket, and he began to fish around for it, "YOU SURE ARE GOOD AT REMINDING ME ABOUT THINGSSSS THAT HAPPENED WEEKSSSS AGO, ALASSSTOR."

Alastor

He opens his mouth to snark back—something about *having a working memory*—before he realizes Sir Pentious is referring to Alastor’s referring to Broadway. His mouth shuts with a click of his teeth like a dial turning off. “Hm.”

Sir Pentious

He's right, Sir Pentious' working memory is generally tied to the immediacy and things that pissed him off. The serpent continues digging around before he retrieves his old bowtie, holding up the accessory and looking at the yellow pendent in the center. He holds it up as if he were dangling a piece of meat, "HERE YOU ARE, OLD CHAP. THISSS ISS WHAT YOU ARE SSSEEKING, ISS IT NOT?"

Alastor

He feels a little bit like a dog being prompted to beg for a morsel. “If that’s what you’re offering!” He holds out his hand, palm up, for Sir Pentious to drop the bow tie in. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that if he tries to grab it, Sir Pentious is going to jerk it back.

Sir Pentious

*He would be right because Penny is that bitch.* But instead he drops it down into Alastor's waiting hand, "I HAVEN'T WORN IT SINCE I REMOVED IT WHEN I PUT ON YOURS. BUT I HAVE KEPT IT WITH ME, SSO! SSTILL WARM. NYA HA!" That's a weird thing to say. He won't think on it anymore.

Alastor

Alastor won’t think on it either. Which is to say, he will think on it A WHOLE LOT, RIGHT NOW, just not on the implications of the fact that Sir Pentious felt the need to point it out.

He tugs off his current bow tie with a flourish and slides the new one in place. “I’ll have to start wearing a little yellow so it doesn’t look out of place.” As he ties the bow tie, he casts a critical gaze down at his red-on-red-with-red-trim outfit, looking for something he can switch out or somewhere he can accessorize.

Sir Pentious

He's wearing a lot of yellow and black himself, so the red bowtie does have a bit of an out of place look, but to Sir Pentious, it was the prize that mattered. He had something of Alastor's, and those who were in the know would be able to recognize that much. A symbol, a victory, perhaps. Spoils and all that.

"A LITTLE YELLOW WOULD SUIT NICELY! MIGHT I SUGGEST A BLACK COAT WITH YELLOW PINTRIPES? NOT THAT YOU COULD SSSTEAL MY LOOK IF YOU TRIED! YOU'D NEED MORE EYESSS FOR THAT."

Alastor

He’s not quite so bold to ask if Sir Pentious has any old coats he’s willing to hand off—although the thought crosses his mind. “Ha! And look like one of your minions? Not if you don’t plan on hiring me full time.” He finishes with the bow and drops his hands, tipping up his chin to show it off. “Am I straight?”

Sir Pentious

A SHARP laugh, and Sir Pentious gestures to Alastor fondly. "NOT AT *ALL.* BUT YES, YOU LOOK FINE!! VERY STRIKING."

Alastor

He blinks a moment as he tries to work out why he’s being laughed at; then huffs. All right, fair enough. “Good to hear!” He stows away his recently-removed bow tie in the collection he’s been carrying around in his pocket.

Sir Pentious

What a shit eating grin from Pentious, who leans in suddenly VERY close to Alastor, much larger than the twig of a man.

"YOU MAKE IT SSOUND LIKE YOU'D ENJOY WORKING FOR ME! BEING BOSSED BY BETTERSSS? NYA HAHA, I MEAN THAT *AFFECTIONATELY*, OF COURSE. YOU'RE NO SSSTRATEGIST."

Alastor

He doesn’t lean back an inch. He just tips his head back, smiling up at Sir Pentious. “I don’t have betters.” And for a moment, his smile is very menacing. There are ways of teasing he’s fine with. That’s not one of them.

But the moment passes. It was, after all, intended affectionately. “However, I also don’t have ambitions! Not any more glamorous than entertaining myself. And I won’t lie, I’ve never found better entertainment than assisting with someone else’s grand ambitions. The drama! The pathos! It’s why I’m here, after all!” He gestures vaguely above them, indicating the hotel.

Sir Pentious

While others might realize their teasing fell flat, Sir Pentious remained in that competitive space, looking over The Radio Demon's wide, dangerous grin. He was no stranger to danger, not at all. Though Alastor did not consider him a rival, Sir Pentious couldn't help the sheer thrill he felt from the possibility of the two at one another's throats. Part of being in Hell, you know.

He follows Alastor's vague gesturing and makes a face, "YES, WELL, EVERYBODY KNOWS YOU DON'T ACTUALLY *CARE* ABOUT THE BETTERMENT OF *SSS*SINNERS. YOU ARE ALWAYS IN IT FOR YOUR OWN ENTERTAINMENT. BUT IF YOU WORK FOR ME, A MAN OF YOUR POWER, I WOULD PREFER IT IF YOU *DID* CARE ABOUT WHAT I AM TRYING TO DO!" Though he doesn't get too uppity about it, preferring instead to adjust his bowtie, "YOU'VE PUT IN A LOT OF EFFORT TO HELP ME WITH MY AIRSHIP, SO, I SHOULD HOPE IT ISSSSN'T A LONG CONFUSING GAME."

Alastor

A game? At that, Alastor draws back a little. He still thinks—? Well, of course, still. Of course still. It’s only been a few months. He’s going to be proving himself for years. He’s going to be proving himself for DECADES. “Oh, I get most of my entertainment from schadenfreude, that much is true—but with the hotel, I’m hoping to get my schadenfreude by watching it crash and burn. Around YOU, I get my schadenfreude from all the people you’ll be crushing on the way up.” A dark smile—almost a conspiratorial one, as if they’re discussing secret plans rather than goals that Sir Pentious regularly announces at top volume. “There’s very little interesting about man challenging the devil and losing—it’s what everyone expects, isn’t it? It’s the inevitable, the status quo. I can watch an overlord fail at that any day of the week. But man OVERTHROWING the devil—a mere mortal, rising up from the mud, becoming something greater than one of the very celestial powers that govern the universe—now THAT, that IS a show worth seeing! I want to see hubris rewarded!”

His eyes are glowing brighter as he leans closer to Sir Pentious. “And all of us who are so strong because of our postmortem superpowers, we dealmakers and bargainers—I don’t think any of us stand a chance. We’re just borrowing a measure of the power of infernal demons and fallen angels. A moon can’t outshine the sun whose light it’s reflecting. The only one who can do it must be a master of the one completely human power of creation: invention. It’s you or nobody. And ‘nobody’ is a terribly boring story.”

Sir Pentious

Their faces are practically together, these weird old men. His hood floops outward, and he stares at Alastor with all of his glowing red eyes. Menacing man. Sir Pentious cannot hold back the shrill cackle of glee that escapes his throat. "OF COURSE, YOU ARE CORRECT, ALASSSTOR! I BROUGHT INNOVATION TO THIS INFERNAL CESSPOOL-- EVERYTHING THAT I HAVE, THAT I AM, I BUILT IT MYSSSSELF, I WORKED FOR IT!!! THEY WILL ALL REGRET LAUGHING AT ME ONCE MY FACE IS *EVERYWHERE.*"

He loved to be praised, so much. Look at him preening again, it gave color to his patterns and his ego hungered for more. Power coursed through his veins at the mere thought of being better than everyone else. His blood would taste sweet with ambition.

Alastor

“If one knows where to look, in one way or another your influence is visible in every building down here. You’ve already shaped Hell! Anyone who doesn’t recognize that is an idiot!” And that kind of technological prowess MATTERS to Alastor, whatever the TV/satellite/computer/Internet bozos think to the contrary. He lived a life on the technological cutting edge. “Once your face is everywhere, if you command it, they won’t be AROUND to regret it anymore.”

And oh, he can’t wait to see it.

In the meantime, seeing Sir Pentious with his ego freshly fluffed is nearly as good a sight. For a moment Alastor swears Sir Pentious looks more *vivid.* Alastor has to force himself to lean back before he does something stupid.

Sir Pentious

He's polishing his talons on his suit, then admiring them as if they were freshly painted. Sir Pentious *purrs*, looking over to Alastor without turning his head, and all of his eyes follow suit.

"MM. YOU KNOW JUSSST WHAT TO SSSAY. I'VE MISSED HAVING YOU AROUND, MY FRIEND."

Alastor

“I’ve missed *being* around.” There’s an edge of desperation to his tone before he reels it back in. Professional charismatic radio host voice. “Everyone else down here is so boring. You can’t imagine!”

Sir Pentious

"HA!" He wiggles his talons as he begins to slither around, over and under various pipes and cables, maneuvering his lengthy body with ease and fluidity. "OH, I ASSURE YOU, I CAN! I HAVE BEEN HERE MUCH LONGER THAN YOU, ALASSSTOR. THERE WAS A TIME I USED TO BE EAGER TO ENCOUNTER NEW ARRIVALS, TO SSSEE HOW THE WORLD HAD CHANGED AS TIME WENT ON, BUT THEY BECAME SSO MUCH MORE **BORING**. TRUE CLASS AND SSTYLE HASS BEEN LOSST TO THE LIVING WORLD, YOU UNDERSTAND."

Alastor

"True enough! Everything's so... *cheap* these days." He watches Sir Pentious slither around. "Somebody's got to show these sinners some proper class and style. And if you want something done right..."

Sir Pentious

Glowing eyes in shadows, anywhere that's not lit up by the extra lights Sir Pentious has added. It's a stark contrast from light to shadow, and he beams, coming up behind Alastor, though carefully. He doesn't touch him, "YOU NEED ONLY LOOK TO SSSIR PENTIOUS! HA!!"

Alastor

He glances back over his shoulder without turning, beaming back just as brightly. "And truer words were never said."

Sir Pentious

Just two guys being dudes.

"ALASSSTOR, IT REALLY IS INTERESTING THAT YOU DON'T WANT *MORE.* YOU REALLY COULD HAVE IT ALL... OH, BUT THEN WE REALLY WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO CHAT LIKE THIS, EH? WHAT A SHAME! CAN'T HAVE THAT."

Alastor

“Can’t have that!” He turns to lean back against a table so he can see Sir Pentious directly again. “I COULD, but I don’t WANT it all. I’m an entertainer, not a... a mad scientist warrior king. YOU could have a stupendous career as a circus contortionist, but I doubt you’d be any more content with that than I would be stuck on a throne making tedious decisions about infernal infrastructure and Hellish cabinet posts. I don’t want subjects—I want an audience.”

His smile twitches toward a grimace. He mutters, “I wouldn’t mind more of *that*—but I certainly wouldn’t get it as a conqueror.”

Sir Pentious

"WELL, I COULD GET YOU AN AUDIENCE! ONCE I'VE TAKEN THIS EMPIRE FOR MYSELF, THERE SHALL NOT BE ANY EMPTY SEATS TO WORRY ABOUT!" He beams, spreading out his arms, "AND THEN! OH, WELL, WE'D HAVE TO CHANGE THINGS UP EVERY FEW YEARS, SO IT DOESN'T BECOME BORING."

Alastor

"Would you?" Alastor brightens again. "I mean, I know you COULD do that, no doubt there—but would you really?"

Sir Pentious

Look at him smiling. He's smiling so much at Alastor. "WHY, OF COURSE! IF WE ARE WORKING *TOGETHER*, THEN I HAVE NO ISSUE WITH THAT. IT WILL BE *FUN* WATCHING WHATEVER YOU DO TO THEM!"

He flicks his talons this way and that, slithering through the pipe maze again. *Enrichment.*

Alastor

His eyes glitter at the thought of it. A captive audience, provided by no less a personage than the ruler of Hell. True, he’d rather his audience listen to him out of adoration rather than fear—he’s an entertainer, after all!—but they can work out the details later. He was adored before. All he needs is to be listened to again, to be given a chance to prove himself, and he’ll be adored again. He’s sure of it.

“I’m counting that as a promise!” Oh, he’s excited just as the THOUGHT of it. He taps a foot on the floor as some bouncy Harlem stride plays in the background under his words. “If you’re irritated now at me for remembering things you did weeks ago, you’re going to hate me when I remind you about this promise in a few years! Ha!”

Sir Pentious

A cackle from the rafters as Sir Pentious slithers around up there.. He finally hangs upside down in front of Alastor with that large familiar grin.

"OH, I AM CERTAIN I WON'T HEAR THE END OF IT! BUT I CANNOT IGNORE THAT YOU HAVE *HELPED* ME. I DISLIKE BEING INDEBTED TO ANYONE, BUT I CANNOT PRETEND OTHERWISE!"

He tips his hat, which is miraculously staying on his head.

"I DO NOT SHAKE HANDS WITH YOU, BUT I COULD PUT IT IN WRITING."

Alastor

“Oh, that’s entirely unnecessary!” Pause. “But I’d love it if you did!” He scoops up the nearest blank-looking piece of paper and a pen, steps sideways into an unexpectedly large shadow, and somehow emerges from it next to Sir Pentious, standing upside-down on the ceiling next to him. “So it’s to be a formal agreement, then, is it!”

He looks all dramatic standing there upside-down for a grand total of three seconds, before his clothing remembers gravity and the tail of his coat fwoofs down to dangle around his head.

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious watches him standing upside down, and he smirks, waving a dismissive hand. "A *PROPER* CONTRACT, ALASSSTOR. I AM A BUSINESSMAN! NO BLANK PAPERSSS HERE. I DIDN'T RUN MY FACTORIESSSS ON BLANK PAPERSSS."

Alastor

“Well, you need a blank paper in order to write the contract on it, don’t you?” He offers over the paper and pen, go on.

Sir Pentious

"I CAN'T WRITE THAT *HERE*, AL! WHAT DO YOU TAKE ME FOR??" He huffs, "I WON'T FORGET, AND IF I DO, YOU WILL REMIND ME!"

Alastor

"Not if you're going to get on my case about reminding you." He drops the pen and paper. The paper flutters slowly down to the ground. "It was a nice sentiment, all the same."

Sir Pentious

Oh look at Alastor getting huffy. Sir Pentious frowns, slithering down to retrieve the paper and pen, "DON'T THROW A *FIT*, I AM NOT GETTING ON YOUR *CASE.* I SAID WHAT I MEANT! YOU WILL REMIND ME, I AM COUNTING ON YOU."

Alastor

Only very lightly huffy; and more for the drama of it than anything else. Still, the idea of being *counted on* makes him perk up. Doesn't that sound all official.

He melts back into the shadows to reappear again next to Sir Pentious. "Then I guess I'll just have to pester you about it sometime!"

Sir Pentious

"YESSS, THAT ISS THE POINT. I HAVE A LOT OF THINGSS TO KEEP TRACK OF. ONCE I AM PROPERLY IN MY AIRSHIP, AND IT ISS OFF THE GROUND, I WILL SET UP THE CONTRACT AND TYPE IT UP ALL NICE. SCRIBBLING IT DOWN ON SSOME BLANK PAPER HARDLY BEFITSSS A HELLISH GENTLEMAN SSUCH AS MYSELF." He gestures to Alastor's suit, "YOU MIGHT ENJOY A PATCHWORK SSTYLE, BUT I DO NOT! NONE OF THAT 'MAKE DO' ATTITUDE, SSSIR."

Alastor

"I happen to like handwritten legal documents! It makes them feel important. Like the Declaration of Independence." He pauses and thinks that over. "That doesn't carry much weight with you, does it? All right, typewritten it is! But I expect to see a draft before you ask me to sign. I have to make sure the terms are equitable, after all."

Sir Pentious

He leans all close to Alastor again.

"OH? EQUITABLE HOW SSSSO? WORRIED I'LL SSSIGN YOU INTO FORCED LABOR, ALASSSTOR?"

Alastor

"Worried you'll let me off too easy," he says dryly. "What if you do something like say you're going to do this big favor for me on the basis of our current friendship and my prior services rendered? What about future services? What if I never do anything else for you ever again, but this contract still holds you to helping me out? No no no, I won't stand for it! You're offering me an enormous favor, my friend, and I intend to earn it properly!"

Sir Pentious

... Oh. Usually people were expecting Sir Pentious to be the one to pull the rug out from others--this was something he... Somehow didn't see coming at all! Alastor wanted to make sure that he was held to the right standards. Don't mind Sir Pentious, he's just going to be having Feelings over here, looking away. Friend...

"YES, WELL. GOOD! THEN. IT WOULD BE A BIG MISSSSTAKE TO TRY TO MAKE ME LOOK THE FOOL, ALASSSTOR!"

Alastor

"I wouldn't dream of it!" He hesitates; then decides, well, all right, as long as he's saying friendly things already—and knowing Sir Pentious keeps asking for directness—

"Truth be told," he says, casually examining his claws like he's only half paying attention to what he says, "if I ever offered to shake with you on something—and I know you've already said you'll never shake with me, that's fine, but IF I did—that's what would be on the line. No souls. Just an unbreakable guarantee that I can't—betray you." He leaves off the *again* and adds a shrug, like it's no big deal. "I don't think you'll ever want to shake even under those conditions. But, all the same, I thought I'd let you know! Since you keep bringing it up like you think I'm just waiting for some clever opportunity to trick you out of your soul!"

Sir Pentious

There's a sound in his ears, like *ringing.* Sir Pentious could swear he could feel his heart pounding in his ears but only briefly. What was *that* sensation? Generally, he felt aches in his chest like that with Valera when she said something *particularly* caring...but this was Alastor. This was probably just another example of a good friend, and what good friends do. Good friends don't betray one another! Yes, of course.

But he couldn't let it go that easily, his brow creased as he looked the deerman all over. "*WHY?*" It was extremely likely that this Alastor had betrayed the Pentious of his own Hell before. Penny was certain every Al was guilty of that at this point... But why try SO hard? Why be so afraid of angering him? Could guilt alone be such a driving force? It felt like there was a very obvious piece of a puzzle missing to him.

"WHY ARE YOU... WHY DO YOU CARE *SO* MUCH?"

Alastor

"Because you're thirty-three percent of my circle of friends—and the only one of them I viciously, violently backstabbed!" He laughs shortly, and his stomach twists and churns as they delve back into that topic that he always feels lurking just under everything they say.

"I don't know how bad things went in your universe, but here—I... it's no exaggeration to say you might well have been ruling Pentagram City by now—maybe more—if not for me. And if we're going to be friends again, we—I know you still don't trust me fully. You can't. You shouldn't! *I* know I'm not going to betray you again, but am I just supposed to say 'take my word for it'?

"On the other hand, a bargain that means I can't betray you is *cheap* for me—in fact, it's *absolutely free*—because all I'm doing is promising not to do something I wasn't going to do anyway! But for you, why—it would give you a little reassurance without your needing to trust me a lick more! And if it costs me nothing but gives you that much... Speaking as a professional dealmaker, that's a bargain if I've ever heard one."

Sir Pentious

Well, that settled that, didn't it! For friendship. Alastor said it himself! And he made quite a big deal (pardon the pun) of it too. He always talked so much, you'd hardly want for a conversation with him around.

.... Except. That feeling gave Sir Pentious some *concern*. It was still lingering, not as strongly but it was there. He's thinking over something the talkative deerman had said...

".... NOT *ME.* I WAS BETRAYED, YES, AN ALASTOR BETRAYED A SIR PENTIOUS, INDEED.... BUT IT WASN'T *ME*." That was something that had always stuck around, lingered in the pit of his own long intestines. The serpent wrung his hands together, unconscious of his own idle fidgeting.

"IF THE ONLY REASON WE ARE FRIENDSSSS ISSS BECAUSE OF *RESIDUAL* GUILT, ISSNT THAT BOUND TO FAIL, TOO?"

Alastor

He shrugs and nods, granted, yes; they’ve both been content to treat each other as substitutes, even though each knows the other is different. Haven’t they?

But he doesn’t get a chance to address that before a question demands his full attention. “*No!*” The question horrifies him enough that he takes a step closer to Sir Pentious, hands half raised, like he’s bracing to try to stop him from swinging around a knife. “No no no, I—w—if I was motivated by avoiding guilt, then I’d be avoiding *you!* I’ve felt more guilt in the last two months than I have in the last twenty years! No. We’re friends because I *want* your friendship.”

He lets out a rattled laugh. “And you can see how well I’m proving that! I try to reassure you, it makes you worry about something else, now I have to re-reassure you.” He gestures between the two of them. “*This* is why I’m trying so hard. Because I can’t quite get it right yet.” He holds up a finger. “*Yet.*”

Sir Pentious

He's startled by the other's sudden movement, and his hood opens up. Alastor's insistence, that earnest way of speaking. It made that feeling even *stronger.*

He almost expected Alastor to grab his hand, but that didn't happen. Sir Pentious rubbed at his arm.... He's feeling guilty, too. For being so paranoid, skeptical. *Afraid.* It was a lot to think about.

"YET..." He looks away. "... I. AM SORRY, THAT I AM. LIKE THIS."

Alastor

Alastor blinks, then leans back against a work table again. Taking in the apology, turning it over in his mind. It feels like needles lining the inside of his ribs, stabbing when he tries to inhale. “For—for what, a little healthy suspicion? I didn’t get you and you didn’t get got by me, but—your suspicion is more than justified. I don’t hold it against you.” The corner of his mouth twitches weakly. “I’m amazed you’re giving me a chance at all.”

Sir Pentious

A little healthy suspicion? Sir Pentious makes a face, digging his talons into his arm further, scratching now.

"IT *ISN'T* HEALTHY, THOUGH. IS IT." This was a.... Decidedly more vulnerable topic, but this was the boiler room. No one came down here anymore, not since Penny set up shop.

"I AM NOT HEALTHY, NOT IN THE LEAST."

Alastor

Alastor tenses as he sees Sir Pentious’s talons tighten on his arm. He wants to reach out. Instead he just grips the edge of the table with both hands, claws digging into the bottom of it.

“If I were the one in your sh...” No shoes. “... If I were standing where you are? I would never so much as *speak* to a Radio Demon again. No matter what dimension he’s from or what promises he makes. So... I know you've said your mind is unhealthy, but *that suspicion*, I don’t think *that's* unhealthy.” He leans a little closer, not quite getting off the table. “If *you* think it is, I won’t know how unless you tell me.”

(He’s dimly aware that the radio distortion modulating his voice has been ebbing and flowing like waves on a beach—but like the tide going out, steadily declining. He can’t remember the last time he spoke so plainly for more than a sentence or two.)

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious doesn't lean back this time, but he's scrunching up more. His skull is *abuzz* with activity, and what feels like pressure on his brain.

".... YOU WOULDN'T, AND YET, WHEN I BECOME SSSO SSSKEPTICAL, I CAN... *FEEL* LIKE I'VE FAILED. IT TURNSSS ME AGAINSSSST THE ONES I." Love. "THE ONES THAT ARE IMPORTANT TO ME. AND I." Lose them.

He can't even finish his sentence, dragging his talons down his arm, a grounding technique that was more self punishing than helpful.

Alastor

Alastor automatically guesses what the first word left unsaid is. His heart leaps into his throat. He swallows it back down; the word isn’t meant for him.

He can’t watch that clawing anymore. “Maybe I can’t help—I think I’d make a poor alienist—and I can’t speak for everyone else important to you” (he feels daring just including himself on that list) “but, for what it’s worth... I’m hard to break and harder to scare off.” He’s gonna. Just. Carefully reach out, and put a hand on Sir Pentious’s wrist. Hi, can he take that? He’ll even let Sir Pentious claw up his arm instead if he wants. It’s fine if not, he’ll just wait and see.

Sir Pentious

The second his wrist is taken, Sir Pentious' eyes widen *considerably.* There's that rush in his chest, a dull *aching.* The puzzle piece was just out of reach, he could *feel* it.

He doesn't even fight it, even as his mind screams at him, *you failure, you absolute failure, look at you! Might as well offer your neck for the chopping block, you miserable failure.* He *winces*, though it isn't at Alastor. Stressed out tongue flicks, he's having a hard time maintaining eye contact.

".... YOU. PROMISE. YOU HAVE TO *PROMISE* ME THAT YOU WILL NOT... LEAVE." With every second that passes, it is like an eternity of ache in his chest. Similar to when Valera held his hands, rubbed them and spoke to him so softly. Grounding him.

Alastor

Alastor flinches when Sir Pentious winces, but Sir Pentious isn't pulling back, so Alastor isn't either.

"I promise." His voice is so blatantly, embarrassingly human. "I promise that I won't leave." He'd seal it in magic if Sir Pentious would let him. Instead, he just squeezes a little more firmly. "I'm your friend and your ally. I promise."

Sir Pentious

*But why?*

Why did Valera have so much patience? Why did Alastor not hate him? By all rights, he should infuriate them, but instead, they always reached out to him...!

... His eyes snap open wider than ever, and he feels like the last puzzle piece slips into place.

"ALASSSTOR. ARE YOU...?" OH, boy. He wants to be wrong, right now, more than ever, he wants to be wrong. If he *isn't* wrong, then... All of those moments, all of those playful snuggles and schemes.... Well they weren't just friendly, were they?

He's looking very pale, suddenly, a grit teeth sort of look. He's realized it. The reason why he stuck around was the same as a Valera's.

*Love.*

Alastor

Something went wrong. He can see it. "What?" What did he do? What did he say? Was it—?

Is his hand too close to Sir Pentious's? He jerks his hand back. "Sorry! I'm sorry, that was—It's a unilateral promise, not a bargain, I wasn't trying to shake on it."

In his heart he knows that's not the problem. But he can't see what the problem is—unless it's the worst.

He hopes it's not the worst.

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious moves back, out of the way suddenly, staring at Alastor like he's a different person.

Was this even *possible?* He.... "ARE YOU IN *LOVE* WITH ME, ALASSSTOR???" Even if the deer said no, Pentious wasn't sure he'd believe him this time. Everything they did together, the way Alastor had warmed up to him, sooner than most others ever would consider...!

He liked him *like that.* And Sir Pentious, lonely Sir Pentious, had never questioned it.

Alastor

His stomach lurches. What did he say wrong? What pushed it over the line? He tries to deny it but all that squeezes out of his throat is static. After months spent trying to reassure Sir Pentious that he DOES value him, that he IS his friend, that he would NEVER betray him again... denying the accusation now would be too much a rejection of everything he's tried to prove.

He sinks down on a bench. He didn't say anything wrong. He said what Sir Pentious needed to hear him say. This was unavoidable.

He tries to give the same response he did to Valera—*no, I'm not; just with someone who looks the same*—but words catch in his throat as he suddenly realizes they're not true anymore. He knows this Sir Pentious too well to still see him the same as his own; but that's done nothing to break his fever. *Damn it.* He twists his hands together and stares down at them, defeated.

Just a few minutes ago, they were...

But Sir Pentious is never going to touch his hands like that again.

Sir Pentious

Of all the things Sir Pentious had expected to come out of this meeting, he couldn't have predicted that Alastor, the Radio Demon, was in love with him. This explained *everything...* Eager for friendship? Wanting so desperately to be around him, to not anger him, to spend as much time as possible?

Love was the *only* answer that made sense. Friendship was difficult enough with the serpent, but love! Oh, this was so much to process. He could only stare down at the deerman. For once, for *once* in his entire unlife, he'd never seen the other so *silent.* Unable to speak, unable to say a thing. Static choking up from his throat, and Sir Pentious found his hands at his own, remembering how it felt to be unable to speak. What to even feel? What could he feel?

Shouldn't he be laughing right now? Feeling so *powerful* for being the object of *Alastor's* affections? This should be making him feel unstoppable, but instead it felt like daggers plunged into his back, dragging down. Every breath wrung with *pain.* Sir Pentious' teeth grit, and he glared, flexing his talons out toward Alastor.

"I LET YOU *TOUCH* ME, I THOUGHT WE WERE *FRIENDSSS*, BUT YOU WERE JUSSSST USING ME, WEREN'T YOU!?" There it was--that hatred for himself bubbling up, paranoia clawing its way out of his throat, "YOU SSSSAY YOU WANTED TO BE MY FRIEND, BUT YOU WERE TRYING TO-- YOU JUSSSssT WANTED--" Wanted what? Alastor hadn't *lied,* he just hadn't been forthcoming. But here, Sir Pentious felt wave after wave of feelings that he couldn't describe. Why did he feel so *betrayed?* "FROM WHENCE DID IT **BEGIN???** HAVE YOU ALWAYSSS BEEN LUSssssTING AFTER ME!? I AM *ENGAGED*, ALASSSTOR!"

He was starting to be so cruel, and he could taste his own venom on his tongue now. Why did it matter this much?

Alastor

He can already see how this is going to end: with Sir Pentious throwing Alastor out of his afterlife completely; with Alastor alone again; with Alastor having merely been taunted for two months with the hope of getting back the best friend he's ever had, before being rewarded for his audacity in daring to think he'd found a cross-dimensional loophole around his rightful punishment for his betrayal.

He can save them both time by apologizing for inconveniencing Sir Pentious, walking out the door, and never coming back.

"I'm sorry." Start there. But he can't let go. (Isn't that the whole problem?) And he can't be the one to turn his back on Sir Pentious. If Sir Pentious throws him out, so be it—but this time, at least, it's going to be for the truth, not for what Alastor leaves Sir Pentious to assume. "For—for what little it's worth—lust never factored into it. And I never—I do—we *are* friends. I've never thought otherwise. I'm not trying to come between you and your fiancée. I've always—I've tried to let you take the lead, to... to decide when and how to touch—*because* we're friends, I—it was your right to set the limits."

Sir Pentious

*For what little it’s worth … we are friends.*

These few words were enough to send stabs of agony through his chest, and Sir Pentious wasn’t much for subtlety. His eyes widened again, and he clutched at where his black heart ought to be. He shouldn’t be feeling enraged, betrayed at all! He shouldn’t be! *Penley, you idiot, what are you doing? So obsessed with yourself, you’re making this all about you, too. Looking for reasons to be alone again, aren’t you?*

But it DID hurt. It *did* hurt. There was something here, something that hurt beyond all measure–if Alastor truly wanted to be his friend, if Alastor, of all damned sinners in this inferno of suffering, truly loved him… wasn’t that a lie? It wasn’t him that he loved, it was… a different man. The same man, but different.

Rage wet his eyes, and he brought up a sleeve to wipe at them–*no*, do not *cry* in front of ~~*your enemies*~~ *anyone else* you damned old fool. Least of all The Radio Demon! Do you want to get laughed at???

*He wouldn’t laugh at me. He is my friend.*

*HE IS NOT* YOUR *FRIEND. YOU ARE A* SUBSTITUTE.

With that wicked quickness the King Cobra is known for, Sir Pentious closes the gap between them, his hood flared out as he bares those yellow fangs of his, “DON’T **FUCK** WITH ME, YOU BASTARD! HOW COULD I SET LIMITS WHEN I THOUGHT ALL IT WAS WAS SSOMETHING WITHOUT SSSUCH FEELINGSSS INVOLVED!? THOUGHT YOU COULD GET A LAUGH OUT OF ME, THE LONELY INVENTOR!!! I WAS JUSSST A SSSSSUBSSSTITUTE FOR YOUR SSSSERPENT. IF YOU HADN’T **FUCKED THINGSSS UP** BACK THEN, THEN WE’D NEVER HAVE BECOME FRIENDSS!!!!”

Oh, he was going for the jugular now. All of that pain was coming out now! And though he’d wiped his eyes, the tears brimming were unmistakable. Lonely Sir Pentious was crying.

Alastor

Alastor leans back when Sir Pentious looms over him, gripping the edge of the bench as he fights down the automatic instinct to defend himself.

*If you hadn't fucked things up*—He flinches like he was slapped. Sir Pentious is right. He's right, and Alastor knows it, and they're the same words he's told himself for the past fifty-four years; but they hurt so much more in that voice. They hurt so much more seeing the fury and pain and tears in Sir Pentious's eyes. The last time he saw Sir Pentious like that, it was among the ruins of his flagship, begging Alastor to explain why he'd just destroyed everything they'd worked for.

And yet, Sir Pentious is *wrong.* "You—think I've been laughing at you?!" He lets out a high, nervous, hysterical laugh—NO that is the EXACT WRONG PANIC REACTION for this situation—he claps a hand over his mouth with the sound of a radio dial firmly clicking off and just shakes his head *no* until he's sure he can control his voice.

"Maybe we wouldn't have met—and maybe you started out as a substitute for mine, but—you aren't now! I know you, not well enough, but well enough to see that the things I value in him *do* exist in you, and where you differ, I value you on your own merits! And if mine slithered in right this second, said all was forgiven, invited me onto his airship, and promised everything I've ever wanted—it would hurt to leave! I'd *miss* the picnics, sitting around watching ASMR videos, sparring with you, figuring out how to cook for you—even how you *breathe.*" He's digging himself the deepest grave Hell's ever seen. At least let Sir Pentious hate him for the right reasons.

Sir Pentious

That was most assuredly the worst possible panic reaction, and it would have ruined whatever it was Alastor was trying to do here–had he not continued. Sir Pentious stared, watching him explain himself, watching him dig a hole so deep he might as well have ended up in Heaven after all.

Perhaps that hole would have made Penny hate him more, but instead… he felt his chest ache further, and he grabbed at his hood, *pulling* it *harshly* to compensate for the pain, to try to keep himself grounded. Alastor was listing off things about him, things that he and Al had done together. Things that were somehow special between the two of them.

Picnics and silly little videos and making ridiculous jokes about things nobody else would care about nor have reference for. Alastor had been the closest in years for someone that Sir Pentious could have related to—he wanted so badly for that companionship, that *understanding* with another demon in Hell who *really understood him.* And now, more than ever, he really had it.

Valera would often list things that Penny did, talked about how much she loved him. The way he is always making some kind of sound, his mannerisms for talking, the way he cares so deeply for her… Every time she’d do so, he could feel his chest swell with such love and passion. It was always too much for him to handle in those moments… words always failed him, he could think of naught to say except “Thank you”, which scraped the bare minimum of how he felt about her.

And Alastor… he had begun to do it, too. It was obvious now, to Sir Pentious, that Alastor had since stopped talking about things that likely *any* Genius Inventor Supervillain had done, and rather had began to talk *specifically* about him. It made him feel seen in ways only Valera had made him feel before.

They *loved* him, and he *hated* himself.

One hundred and fifty years of self loathing

was having a difficult time combatting all of this **love.**

Sir Pentious leaned back, and attempted to speak–he pointed a finger at Alastor, fangs bared as he prepared to let loose into another barrage of insults, of *cutting* words… only to find himself *unable* to speak.

He tried again, and again, to no avail with each attempt. Here he was, forcibly speechless, as panic began to steal him away. His eyes widened further, and he began to scratch at his throat, *furiously ashamed* with this total failure he was showing himself to be. *How pitiful, Sir Pentious. And you wonder why █████ left you. You can never be counted on when you’re needed most.*

Alastor

It's a barbed wire-wrapped sword through his heart when Sir Pentious's expression of fury melts into panic and he starts clawing at his own throat.

"No, oh no." He automatically reaches up, grabs Sir Pentious's hands, and pulls them down. His hands feel like they're holding red hot irons.

"*I'm sorry.* I shouldn't touch you. But I'm not letting you hurt yourself on my account." It's the first time this whole conversation he's felt like he sounds like himself, albeit an unusually serious version of himself. "If you need someone to claw up, let it be me."

Acid blood, Sir Pentious had called it; brain-storms, they were called in Alastor's time—temporary bouts of madness brought on by distress too great for a rational human mind to endure. And Alastor is the one who pushed Sir Pentious into this one. His mind races as he tries to figure out how to fix his damage. (Stupid question. He doesn't fix it. He knows that. Didn't he himself tell Sir Pentious he's better at knocking things down than setting them back up? Didn't Sir Pentious call him a wrecking ball?)

Sir Pentious

They might as *well* have been red hot irons–Sir Pentious’ eyes were glowing brightly, wide as they were. At this proximity, Alastor would be able to feel the tremor running under that grip–He tried so hard to mask it, but he was trembling from the intensity of his emotions.

Still, that *smile.* It wasn’t quite as strong as he knew Alastor was capable of, but the fact he could see it at all cut him to ribbons on the inside. Sir Pentious, in his haze of self loathing and fear of being a joke, took that smile as confirmation despite Alastor only saying the opposite. How many times must he say it before you *believe* him, Penny?

So close now, and he could easily pull away–but instead, he sought to cause pain. This was his way of coping, and he always managed to hurt the ones he cared about. Why should now be any different? He had bitten Valera when he was like a feral beast, and here he would tear Alastor apart in just the way he wanted. After all, he *offered.*

His hood flaring out and a monstrous *hiss* escaping his throat, Sir Pentious lunged his head forward, burying his fangs into the base of Alastor’s neck, right where it met the shoulder. He easily penetrated the flesh, sinking in to the gums as his eyes carried *madness.* Not only had he bitten him, but it was the same place he’d bitten him before, two months ago.

Alastor

He gasps in with an awful feedback noise, pain shooting across his neck and over his shoulder. On some level, he isn't surprised. On some level, he realizes, he was hoping for this.

He doesn't know if Sir Pentious intends it as his forgiveness, his penance, or his punishment.

And between the pain and the uncertainty and the knowledge that even though it's agony he's still not worthy of it—he finally breaks. He bursts into noisy, crackling sobs, his voice hardly audible under the distortion, shaking so hard he might not be able to sit up if Sir Pentious himself wasn't inadvertently holding him up by the shoulder.

"I'm sorry!" He clings desperately to Sir Pentious, he can't stop himself. He's talking fast, words spilling out, trying to get it all out before Sir Pentious stops listening to him for good. "*I'm sorry.* I know you hate how I feel, I hate it too. I'd shut it off if I could! It's why I ruined everything and *ran*, because I'm a *coward* and I was *afraid* of what love would make me—I was afraid of being *this.* I'm sorry you have to put up with it too!"

One hand curls clawlike into Sir Pentious's lapels to pull him closer and his fangs deeper. This is going to be the last time. He has to make it hurt. "I wish it—I *wish* it could have been something good for you. I'd fantasized about confessing someday—when you needed proof of my loyalty, I could have made some—some grand gesture—"here, here's your proof, here's how you know I'll never betray you!" Even if you don't reciprocate, I'd hoped you could—could draw strength from it! Here's one more person who esteems you so highly! Here's one more more person who would give you Heaven and Hell! Here's one more person who would do anything to see you happy and triumphant! But I can't even do that much for you, I—I'm so *sorry*—"

He can't get any more out. His last few words break up like a signal in a tunnel, and all he's left with is wordless sobbing and shaking.

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious had a chance now, to spill his venom into Alastor. He had a chance to watch him *writhe* in physical agony to match the swirling intensity that the serpent felt inside. But it was clear, from the way the deerman broke so suddenly in his jaws, that Penny realized there was no need.

Alastor was *shattered* in a way that Penny had never, ever seen him. Never heard him. This man, who carried himself with such superiority and class, now a broken, sobbing ruin of a demon clung to the hellish gentleman’s body. He wasn’t goading him, he wasn’t boasting. He wasn’t destroying everything he’d built only to run off or laugh in his face.

He was just… miserable. And it was misery that Sir Pentious could not enjoy… it reminded him of his own wretched wailing when Valera had been there to hold him, too. Suddenly, Alastor stopped being The Radio Demon to Sir Pentious, and had become something else.

*Al. My best friend. You’re not so bad, you old bastard.*

But he wasn’t in the right mind to forgive him, just yet. Forgiveness… what a laughable thing for a *demon* to consider. He pulled his teeth from Alastor’s neck, staring him hard in the face as tears of his own ran down his cheeks. That horrid smile of Alastor’s, twisted with intense sadness…

“Ssstop *sssmiling*, you imbecile.”

He brings his hands up, grabbing at Alastor’s face with both of them, and *forcing* the corners of that mad grin down, to the best of his ability, even if his talons pinched that face. Once he was done with that, he’d return the hug, tightly, his tail slowly wrapping up the other as the most grounding thing he could think of. Emotional intimacy was not his strong suit, but Valera had taught him some things, too.

“… JUSSST… BREATHE… AT THE SAME TIME AS ME. FOLLOW *MY* LEAD.”

Alastor

He can't meet Sir Pentious's gaze; he squeezes his eyes shut automatically. And immediately opens them again when Sir Pentious touches his face. He's distantly surprised to be told he *is* still smiling. He can't feel it at all. The crumbling remains of his smile collapse effortlessly under Sir Pentious's hands and he bites his lower lip, the corners of his mouth twitching like he doesn't know what to do with them when they aren't twisted up.

Why is he being *held*? He doesn't deserve this. But he leans into it, eyes shutting again, face pressed to Sir Pentious's shoulder, arms wrapped tight around his back. He can feel Sir Pentious's chest rising and falling with each breath—it's the most reassuring feeling, the most reassuring sound in the world. He can breathe. He can do that.

His shuddering reduces, his sobs slowly stop. He isn't sure if he's still crying or if it's just the old tears clinging to his face. But he's breathing. And he's—god, how did this happen?—he's exactly where he's wanted to be for the last fifty-four years.

He croaks, "If you're planning to exterminate me, please make it now." Cue the world's tinniest laugh track.

Sir Pentious

Satan himself, it actually worked. He managed to… calm Alastor down. He’d done exactly what Valera had done for him before, and… well, he sold himself short, now didn’t he? He’d calmed down Valera before, too. Maybe he didn’t destroy everything he touched. Maybe… he was good at maintaining his relationships, after all. Why, these two thought he was good enough to willingly be around, so… maybe he could give himself a chance, too.

The love aspect that was added on… Pentious still wasn’t sure what to do with that. Could he handle knowing that Alastor loved him? That every action between the two of them had this tension? Or would it only have tension if he allowed it to? Sir Pentious bumped his forehead to Alastor’s, a little rougher than usual to at least show he was irritated…

“YOU ARE OFF THE AIR. GIVE YOURSSSELF A BREAK.”

He adjusts the deerman’s monocle, and straightens up his suit, before he reaches into his own suit jacket and pulls out a handkerchief. Penny moves to undo the neck portion of Alastor’s suit, so that he could place the handkerchief inside and on his shoulder–but he stops himself, instead just handing him the cloth.

“…I AM ANGRY WITH YOU. I AM FRUSSSTRATED AND I DO NOT KNOW WHEN I WILL FEEL ABLE TO BE COMFORTABLE WITH YOU AGAIN. BUT I WILL WANT THISSSS HANDKERCHIEF BACK, DO YOU UNDERSSSTAND? SSSSO. DO NOT RUN AWAY FROM ME, ALASSSTOR. I WILL NEVER TALK TO YOU AGAIN IF YOU EVEN *THINK* ABOUT RUNNING AWAY FROM ME.”

His own voice was hoarse, despite how loud it was, and he was clearly tired from crying and shouting. Sir Pentious looked thoroughly tired, as if he had been drinking and yet he’d had not a drop. Emotionally drained, and all out of spoons.

Alastor

Alastor is more than capable of tidying himself up, and under any other circumstances he *would,* irritably pushing off whoever dared try to fuss over him—but it's such a shock that *Sir Pentious* is doing it, and it's so *nice*, he just stands there in stunned silence, letting him.

He numbly takes the handkerchief, and for a moment stares blankly at it before figuring out what it's for. He quickly undoes his bow tie—his fingers twitch when he remembers whose it is—and then hastily undoes his collar and slides the handkerchief under.

"I can send it back this evening after I launder it." His voice is filtered through a radio again—Sir Pentious is wrong, he's *always* on air—with the crackles and pops like an old phonogram record complimenting the hoarseness of his own voice. He looks down to avoid meeting Sir Pentious's gaze, realizes that doesn't solve the problem, and glances to the side. "If you're trying to use the handkerchief to say that you see this ending some way other than never wanting to speak to me again... then be more direct."

A few members of the invisible studio audience weakly chuckle. Alastor waves them off with his free hand, muttering, "Shut *up,* not the time," then winces as the gesture makes his shoulder sting.

Sir Pentious

Ah, he was called out. It gets a frustrated look out of him, but… you know. That’s exactly the kind of thing he’d have said to Alastor, before. Sir Pentious folds his arms, flinching a little as the pain from having scratched at himself reminds him that it is still present.

“… I DON’T WANT YOU TO RUN AWAY FROM ME, BECAUSE I WANT TO SSSEE YOU AGAIN, ON MY TERMSSS. BUT IF I SSEE YOU TOO SSOON… I MIGHT HATE YOU FOREVER.”

A deep inhale, and slow exhale. Sir Pentious slowly unravels his tail from around the other demon, though it remains behind him in case he cannot stand on his own, “… I REQUIRE TIME TO PROCESS THISS, ALASSSTOR. PERHAPSS YOU ARE RIGHT, THAT I SHOULD NEVER WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH YOU EVER AGAIN. BY ALL ACCOUNTSS, I OUGHT TO AGREE WITH THAT AND NEVER SSSPEAK TO YOU AGAIN!”

His tail lashes with some irritability, and now it’s his turn to avoid any kind of eye contact. “… But. I sstill want to. I do not want you to leave. I have… *fun* when you are around. The kind of fun that I never had before… Because. I do not have friends. There are very few people who would want to be around me.” Blast it he was rambling on again. He covers his face with a hand, grimacing as all he can taste on his tongue is Alastor’s blood. It made him dizzy with misery. “I will be on Okkylk. When I am ready to take back the handkerchief, I will pick it up in *person.*”

Alastor

He listens to the half-threats as stoically as he can with his smile missing—he feels naked and raw and exposed—and he fears that with his face twitching after every sentence, it's not nearly as stoic as he'd like to think.

His heart nearly leaps into his throat when Sir Pentious says he wants Alastor to stay—then plummets back down. It's not because it's Alastor's friendship, specifically, that he values; it's because he needs anyone's friendship, and Alastor's the one offering it. Piss-poor and putrid though it is. He already knew that, didn't he? Hadn't he said to Valera that Sir Pentious doesn't like Alastor—he just likes that Alastor likes him? He wishes he could bring anything more to the table than this desperate last resort friendship—but he shot any chances of that in the head decades ago.

He nods wearily. "You know where to find me. You won't hear a peep out of me until you come calling, barring emergencies—overheard assassination plots or the like."

Sir Pentious

How they hated themselves. If he'd known that Alastor had come to that conclusion, well... maybe he'd have said something else. But as it stood, right now, Sir Pentious was beyond exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to wrap himself up in his fiancee, to breathe her in and feel some form of comfort after all of *this*...

It wasn't fair to think of it that way, he knew that Alastor was suffering, but what could he do? His cup was empty, and he could not pour from it. His eyes looked back up to see that pitiful expression, and... he gestured with his index talon--a smiley face. "... YOU CAN SSMILE AGAIN, ALASSTOR. YOU'RE NOT DRESSED WITHOUT IT." Ha...ha. Ha. He immediately looks like he regrets the sentence before he turns, and begins to slither back through the piping.

How he hated himself, but they loved him.

Alastor

He attempts a smile. He fails. He isn't surprised. He almost responds "*No, I can't,*" but Sir Pentious is dealing with enough of Alastor's personal problems. He doesn't need another.

He watches Sir Pentious go; pulls the bow tie out from around his collar, drops it on the workbench beside the travel mug; and then melts into the shadows.

#hissandvinegar #chat log

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shirtlesssammy · 5 years

Text

15x08: Our Father, Who Aren’t In Heaven

Then:

Fighting the good fight since 2010

Now:

At the Lucky Elephant Casino, God’s knocking back fruity drinks, playing slots, and murdering everyone around him. Things don’t look so fun in Chuck-land.

Meanwhile, Eileen is living her best new life hunting a werewolf. She’s kicking butt but has a temporary setback when Sam shows up. She shoves him out of the way to finish the job. She asks Sam if he’s following her. MAYBE he’s being a little overprotective, but c’mon, he did just bring her back from the dead. I’m guessing he’d like to keep her on the side of the living a little longer than a week or two.

Later at the bunker, they’re eating their respective burger (Eileen) and salad (Sam), and Dean walks in with the demon tablet. He’s hoping the tablet will reveal a weak spot with God. They’re going to need Donatello!

Cas knock’s on Donny’s door. Hmm, I see, divorced husbands still communicating about the case and Cas still doing things for the cause.

Donatello comes back to the bunker, but isn’t happy about it. He gets to work eating chicken wings and translating the tablet again. Sam, Dean, and Cas casually hang out in the library and sneak concerned looks towards the prophet.

Donny finds some footnotes written by Metatron about God’s secret fear that he only shared with “his favorite.” Lucifer was already locked away by the time the tablets were written. He must mean Michael. The problem with finding Michael is that he’s locked away in the Cage. Donatello starts to freak out over how overly dramatic TFW’s lives are but then passes out in a chair. He comes to --but it’s Chuck this time communicating directly through his prophet. He tells them to leave it alone. Then he threatens all the women in their lives if they don’t (and I just hate/love this because this calls back to early SPN so much when the women died for all their man-pain.)

They tell Donatello to go home. Then they all decide (Cas reluctantly) to go to Hell to find Michael. Dean sarcastically tells Cas that he can “stay here” at the bunker. And I can’t for the life of me find the post now, but whoever made a post of Dean increasingly going from sarcasm to flat out begging for Cas to stay at the bunker is my hero.

In the bunker’s kitchen, they cast the same spell Rowena used to get Cas and Belphagor to Hell before. Dean cuts his hand as part of the spell (something he’s done a thousand times before) and Cas takes the time to heal him (but doesn’t touch him like he normally does) and it takes so much of him to do it. I’m just going to sit here quietly for a bit before proceeding.

Once in Hell, Cas leads the way until they run into a bunch of badass lady demons that completely kick their asses. Well, they do until a very familiar voice bellows, “STOP!”

It’s ROWENA!!!

She’s now Queen of Hell. She’s also posturing up a storm. Ah. They tell her they want to lock up Chuck and they’re looking for Michael. She tells them he could be anywhere. The Cage opened just like the rest of the doors in Hell. She sends her demon minions to find Michael.

Back at the bunker, Eileen is watching over the spell, and she gets a call from Sue, another hunter. She needs help with a vamp nest. Eileen agrees to help as soon as she’s done helping TFW.

In Hell, TFW meets with Rowena in her throne room. She tells Sam that killing her was a good thing. She’s queen! Then she asks him to get her another drink (!) so she can have a little therapy time with the other two clowns. She tells them to “fix it” because there’s no reconciliation in death. A demon comes in to inform them that Michael “is nowhere to be found.”

For Perfect Framing Science:

Actually, he can be found at Jaci’s Red Wagon diner. It seems that Adam and Michael are good buds and Adam’s currently enjoying his first burger in ten years.

Dean checks in with Donatello just one more leeeetle time to see if he’s gotten any Chuck-adjacent flashes. Just when you think you’re out, yadda yadda yadda… He THEN checks in with Sam about Eileen. She is FINE, Dean, they have “an agreement.” Dean picks up on Sam’s waffling, and tells Sam that she fits the parameters of a potential partner: she knows the life, plus she’s hot. That’s way better than the life Sam tried to build with Amelia, a bag of limes, and a dog. This conversation is also notable for Dean’s admission that he’d been in a very dark place not long ago but he’s climbing out of it now.

At the diner, Adam continues to chill with Michael and contemplate the future when Lilith arrives.

She’s there to bring Michael to Chuck. “I’m not accustomed to being fetched,” Michael says coldly. It looks like things are headed towards fisticuffs when Michael just…burns her to ash right there. Ah, archangels. (Side note: I rewatched this section with the sound off while gathering images and watching her performance is every bit as engaging. I’ll miss you, scrunchy-nose Lilith.)

Donatello has a vision and sees Michael’s spiteful smiting (smiteful?). He calls Dean with Michael’s location. He’s in Cairo! Time for Dean to hop on a plane and hold Cas’s hand nervously the entire time… I’m ready for an airplane destiel fic episode!

Cas has an alternate, non-hand-holding suggestion. He’ll pray to Michael instead. In the quiet of an upstairs corner of the bunker, next to a REAL and also METAPHORICAL CHESS SET, Cas characterizes their last meeting as “unpleasant” and asks to meet up. “I’m not your enemy anymore. Now we all have the same enemy. God himself.”

Mmmkay, compelling words. Michael meets Cas in a warehouse. He remembers Cas. “You called me assbutt and set me on fire.” LOL, classic. Cas faces Michael stoically and lights a circle of holy oil around him. That’s the Winchester’s cue to enter and they do so with STYLE.

DAMN!

Dean presents a set of warded cuffs for Michael’s consideration. There’s clearly only one way out of the circle of fire.

For Check out the Curtains Made of Chains SO PRETTY Science:

Michael is twenty-five shades of pissed off at being confined. In the bunker he accuses the Winchesters of abandoning their brother and then shocks them all by flashing Adam back in control.

Adam seems much more chill than Michael and reveals that he and the archangel only had each other in the cage so they came to an agreement. Dean, who only recently stopped dragging himself around in a post-Michael traumatic haze, is gobsmacked that Michael’s letting Adam walk and talk. He tells Adam that there’s nothing they can say to fix what they did by leaving him in the cage. “How about ‘I’m sorry?’” Adam suggests.

Michael wrests back control and we go back to Chuck talk. Team Free Will attempts to briefly explain that Chuck isn’t trying to usher in “boring” paradise. Instead, Michael’s dad would rather see everybody suffer, including Michael.

Adam pops back behind the helm and advises them to stop their paltry attempt at convincing Michael of Chuck’s perfidy. On his (their) own, Adam unpacks the situation. He doesn’t forgive the Winchesters for what they did, but he does think they’re operating from good intentions. I don’t remember where I saw this online, but somebody posted that they have never liked Adam more than in this episode. I completely agree! There’s a lovely amount of complexity and growth hinted at through this performance.

Michael finds it hard to shake off a near-eternity of being God’s favored son. God is “having a mid-eternity crisis,” Adam suggests. Maybe Michael should at least entertain the possibility that Chuck isn’t on the up-and-up. Michael doesn’t want to doubt his father. “You still care about that after he left you in the cage?” Adam asks.

Meanwhile, Eileen’s friend Sue calls again. She’s ready to move on the vamps and needs backup NOW. When Eileen hesitates, Sue needles her about having to ask for permission. Eileen rises to Sue’s barb and agrees to meet up. The camera tumbles, Sue swears, and Eileen acts immediately as the call ends. She races to Sam’s room and fills him in on her friend’s perilous situation. Together, they run off to give Sue backup. (I love how this scene both shows Eileen’s need to assert her own independence and her absolute trust and pragmatism in getting Sam to back her up.)

Cas heads in to speak with Adam/Michael. Michael is still not on board the fight-Chuck train. Cas responds with sass, as is his custom. “I never liked you. I thought you were too haughty. Too…to paraphrase a friend, you had an entire oak tree shoved up your ass.”

Now Cas finds him pitiable. Michael isn’t God’s favorite. He’s just a tiny part of Chuck’s favorite soap opera. DAMN, Cas.

Cas goes even further, telling Michael that Lucifer was the smart one all along, and Michael SNAPS. He flips Cas over the table and gets him in a headlock. Cas struggles, and manages to lock both his hands on Michael’s temples. It’s brain zapping time! Even an archangel is no match for Cas’s mind mojo, and Cas dumps a clip show of Chuck being a dick writer into Michael’s head.

Later, Cas decompresses alone in the kitchen. Dean arrives, then suggests that Cas might have misjudged the situation and gone too far with Michael. D E A N. Before Cas left, Michael essentially said, “Leave. Get out. I want you dead.” We’ve all been in agony for several days now over the parallels between this line and what Cas thinks he’s getting from Dean and AAAAUGH THE SWEET PAIN OF IT. “We didn’t bond,” Cas summarizes. If you need me, I’ll be hunched in this burning dumpster, muttering about profound bonds.

The bunker rattles, and they race to Michael’s room. He greets them with, “God lied to me.” He gave everything for Chuck, but it turns out he’s not even unique across the multiverse if there are other Michaels out there.

Sam and Eileen arrive at the hunt and discover abandoned vehicles. Sam’s suspicion bone is tingling, but then Sue shows up. She’s got this swagger, so Boris and I immediately assume she’s been turned into a vamp because we’ve been watching this show since forever. Uh, Sue’s not a vamp. She’s Chuck! Or…you know, Chuck’s her! [Admiral Ackbar voice] It’s a trap!

Michael agrees to help Team Free Will. He pulls out a slip of paper with a spell on it that can contain Chuck just like it contained Amara. All they need is myrrh, cassia, rock-rose, and the nectar of a leviathan blossom. It’s a flower that grows in Purgatory. Michael opens up a rift-style door with the snap of his fingers.

The door will stay open for twelve hours. Dean uncuffs Michael/Adam and apologizes for what happened to his half brother. Adam smiles sadly and wishes them luck in their Chuck-fighting endeavors. After he/they leave, Cas and Dean turn towards the glowing rift. It’s Purgatory time, baby! And you know what they say about Purgatory. It’s the perfect place to work out your emotions in a friendly, non-deadly environment!

Quotingmoon in Purgatory:

There’s a crack in his invincibility shield

When I go crazy again, just shoot me

Usually I enjoy our little process. I toss something at you guys and you slam it right back. It’s fun! Like tennis! With monsters

What am I picking up from you two? A wee tif? Tell your Auntie Rowena

Why would he send you, a demon, a speck of infernal bile?

Oh, I didn’t come to beg

Since when do we get what we deserve?

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #spn 15x08 #our father who aren't in heaven #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #chuck shurley #eileen leahy #rowena macleod #donatello redfield #adam milligan #michael #lillith #supernatural season 15

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cosmi-trashbin · 5 years

Text

Voxman Ship Meme (REPOST)

(Note: This is adapted and edited from a ship meme pulled off of a long-deactivated blog. The newer edits include my take on K.O. visiting Professor Venemous on weekends.

Big thanks to @enlightenedrobot for saving one of my personal favorites of the asks I received. I’m still in love with the idea of bite-sized speculative fiction about the hypothetical domestic lives of two dumbass mad scientists and their big adoptive family.)

Who snores?

When Lord Boxman snores, it sounds like a chorus of chainsaws chopping trees. It drives Professor Venemous crazy, but he can’t complain. Apparently, he grinds his teeth with the ferocity of ten cats dragging their claws down chalkboards. These two have to sleep in separate bedrooms or they’d murder each other.

It pains Boxman since he loves to-no, needs to-cuddle. Boxman will chug two energy drinks and screw up his sleep schedule for a week if it means getting to spoon with his sleeping husband for a few hours. He has ample competition, though. Fink, Raymond, Darell, and even K.O. take turns sleeping in Venemous’ room to assuage nightmares or just because Venemous is the warmer, more affectionate parent. Raymond, Darrell, and K.O. tend to accommodate Boxman and gladly include him. It takes Boxman awhile, but he eventually comes to enjoy the family huddle pile (even if this includes K.O., but he’d never openly admit it).

Fink is the exception. She’ll snarl and bark like a guard dog until Boxman reluctantly retreats back to his room.

Who takes out the trash?

At first, Venemous and Fink take turns taking out the trash. After a bitter argument about unfair chore schedules, Boxman was supposed to take over that chore. Instead, he delegates it to Darell, Shannon, and Raymond. Between the three bots, hope that Darell or Shannon lost the latest no-holds-barred tussle for who has to do it. If it’s Raymond, the trash just sits there and rots.

The headache stops entirely once K.O. starts visiting on weekends. He gladly picks up the chore, as well as many others, leaving Boxmore just a little cleaner than it normally is. K.O.’s cleanliness is almost enough to sell Boxman on the idea of eventually recruiting the little goody-goody full time.

Who hands out candy vs who takes the kid(s) trick or treating?

A week before Halloween, Boxman buys out all of the best candy. On Halloween night, Boxmore is a hotspot for trick or treaters because he hands out jumbo candy bars, homemade caramel apples, and even popcorn balls. He knows kids by name, takes requests, and has a waiting list of clients two miles long. His rationale? The bigger and flashier his Halloween offerings, the less foot traffic Gar’s Bodega gets. He’ll quash Gar by cutting his bottom line. (That’s Boxman’s cover story, but really, Halloween is just his favorite holiday).

As if this weren’t enough, Darell, Shannon, Raymond, and others ambush the Bodega all night with over-the-top Halloween related pranks or attacks. Gar usually works these shifts by himself since it’s an important family holiday for Enid, K.O. will probably go trick or treating with Carol, and Rad would find endless excuses to sneak over to Boxmore anyway.

Venemous is the trick or treat chaperone. He loves the holiday because it tends to be his best opportunity to bond with Fink. He lets her go nuts: She terrorizes unsuspecting citizens, steals kids’ candy, and threatens people at the door for their entire candy stash. While Fink brings home an ungodly large stash, Venemous refuses to let her eat all of it at once. He’s still supposed to be a responsible boss/parent in some capacity after all. K.O. tags along with Venemous and Fink on one Halloween after the big reveal. Apparently, Halloween is a good enough excuse for a truce between Fink and T.K.O. The results were so disastrous both Carol and Venemous agree that K.O. exclusively spends Halloween with her or his friends. No exceptions.

Who goes to parent/teacher conferences?

Venemous attends parent/teacher conferences more than he likes to. It usually boils down to: He nods and smiles for an hour, then bribes the principal to clear up Fink’s record. When he starts dating Boxman, he forces him to tag along to make the experience more bearable. Of course, Boxman acts as obnoxious as possible while Venemous pretends to be the embarrassed and utterly mortified “Excuse my buffoon partner” parent. After the fourth parent/teacher conference with Boxman, Fink’s boarding school just gives up.

Carol encourages Venemous to attend at least one of K.O.’s parent/teacher conferences in an attempt to “better include him in K.O.’s life.” It goes surprisingly well, despite some of Venemous’ catty comments; well enough that Carol, Venemous, and Mr. Gar can coordinate to go in each other’s stead if one or the other gets too busy. Venemous insists on getting a full report of K.O.’s progress every time, brags about his “smart little boy” for weeks, and makes Fink very jealous of her step-sibling.

Who packs a lunch for the other to take to work?

Boxman makes a point of preparing a lunch for his ‘gorgeous, successful’ partner everyday. He’s a terrible cook. A nightmarishly terrible cook. But, Venemous takes the heart-shaped boxes with burnt pot roast and limp greenbeans anyway because he appreciates the gesture.

Who leaves clothes all over the floor/in the laundry basket vs who puts them away?

Boxman has a giant “dirty clothes” pile in the corner of his room. The only clothes he’s very careful, even anal, about getting thoroughly cleaned and professionally pressed are his theatrical costumes. Costumes and presentation are actually a key bonding point between he and Raymond. Venemous encourages Boxman to go out once a week with Raymond clothes shopping and getting suits pressed or whatever else. Raymond is eternally grateful to Venemous for this, but he’s still trying to convince his more fashionable dad to join them. It’d be nice if Raymond had backup to get Boxman to back down on some of his more questionable fashion choices.

In contrast, Venemous is very careful about hanging his turtlenecks and lab coats, knows the best dry cleaning locations available, and gets the high-grade laundry detergent he can find. He doesn’t mind stains since he usually ends up with mud stains or crayon marks on his clothes after spending quality time with Fink. He just likes to make sure he’s presentable for clients and rivals alike.

Who organizes the DVDs and books?

Venemous has an extensive personal library he organizes alphabetically and according to how ‘evil’ the subject matter is. He’s particular about where he places books and DVDs in his private collection, but he lets everyone else keep ‘organized chaos.’ He only makes comments or asks them to clean up if the mess is in the main room or a tripping hazard.

The way he sees it, happy minions and families should be able to keep their private space and belongings arranged however they please.

Who has a million magazine subscriptions?

Boxman is notoriously bad about signing up for any flashy-looking magazine or service out there. There’s so many that come in every other week Venemous has to sort through them to pick out which are salvageable and which are garbage. Most ends up in the trash, but he does keep POINT gossip rags in the bathroom cupboard for grins.

Boxman is just barely trumped by how many teen-girl magazines Shannon orders. Every time a new magazine comes in, Venemous gets a death glare from Shannon until they figure out if it’s Boxman trash or her precious new Tigerbeat.

Who has a name for the stray neighborhood cat?

Venemous keeps tabs on the stray neighborhood cats to protect them from Fink. He’s been at it so long he named them to make it easier to keep track. At some point, Boxman joined in and started naming cats, too. He also turned their nightly antics into a needlessly complex and dramatic soap opera.

Venemous rolls his eyes every time Boxman ‘recaps’ the latest episode of Alley Cats to him at the breakfast table. And, every time, Boxman sneaks a look at Fink before winking slyly at Venemous. When Venemous does his Captain Picard facepalm, he feels like it’s a miracle Fink hasn’t found out about his watching out for the cats yet.

When K.O. discovers his dad’s soft spot for cats, he melts and goes on about how he knew Venemous had a heart somewhere. Every time, Venemous shuts him down with a cruel comment about handing over one of the cats to Fink. If K.O. pushes too much, he describes what Fink might do in horribly graphic, gruesome detail.

Who walks around naked at night and forgets the living room window is open?

Every Saturday evening, Boxman claims the living room to himself to watch his shows (a very melodramatic and sappy soap opera he doesn’t want anyone to know he watches). At exactly 8 pm, Boxman shuffles towards his kitchen for a snack stark naked. He always forgets that the living room curtains are wide open. Or, more accurately, he leaves them open because he ‘likes the breeze.’

Rad and Enid dread Saturday night shifts. They fight over who gets their 15-minute break at 8 pm to avoid the sight that’s the stuff of nightmares. Rad usually loses whatever game they picked to decide and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t look away when Boxman does his weekly snack shuffle.

The snack shuffle abruptly ends when Fink decides she wants the TV at that exact day and time to watch wrestling. Boxman gets out-voted and overpowered by everyone, including K.O., making a family night out of it. Sometimes, even Gar and Carol join in on the fun.

#ok ko #ok ko voxman #voxman #ship meme #ship ask #box family #ok ko boxmore #professor venemous x lord boxman #venemous x boxman

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ferretcatalienbird · 5 years

Text

Quote list

[ date created:??? sometime in 2019 i think ]

[last edited; march 18th 2020]

The protagonist is dumb and the author is stupid

Tolitw pp

Scare it was

Cow juice

Cheemcrease

Sorry I am no brain today

Aragon

Bad and naughty children get put with the silent man to atone for their crimes

Radioactive gamer soda

Excuse me,I think your dog has autism

Ass goblin

Bad and naughty children have to sit at the bottom of the ocean

Ketchup is a sports drink

Thug cow

Fortnite funnies

It is I,mojojojo and I am part of the joestar family!

N A R T

Humans STRONG. We drink MILK to make us STRONGER.STROOOOOOOOO⚬⚬⚬⚬⚬⚬◎◎◎◎◎◦◦◦◦◦◦◉◉◉◉◉◉◉◎◎NGNNGNNNG

Dut hirt

Go makeout with a cactus

And I looked into the windows of her soul and said bitch

When you die your skeleton begins to hatch

Heathen tube

Holy whiskers you go sisters

Vampires get soggy in milk

Bad astronauts get put in the corpse wiggler

Your heart is a muscle the size of a rat,SPONGEBOB SQUARE PANTS

That’s a lot of cheese

Got spilk?

Eenie meenie miney meenie

Knit knit purl

There is no god,only shark

Breaking the law with a mute person

You are on fire! On fire I say!

Jentucky fried chicken

Back foot open rub rub 7 days

Mermy Christcas

I am the cause of your die

I Am the HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

How to properly threaten someone: I’m gonna become a tiny little person and hold ur bloodstream so u diiiiiiieeeeeeeee

Yoga pants cause car accidents

Bumblebitch

Woohoo yaha

Banana corn (put corn in banananana)

A canyon full of poo-poo

The apple gods have denied you a spouse

You is the because

C’mon snake,let’s rattle

Minion = ugly yellow toddler

Catch that magic panda use her powers

Na na na na na na na na na na na na na suck it

Hehe hoho c’mon let’s go go

Micro moose

Guinea big

What is with kids and their weird hats

H’y’all

BAMASTE

Computer lions

Jack black look like Pringle’s

My parents picked me. Off a tree. I am a fruit

Hehehahahoohoohaha

C’mon babey givme a whiirl

Gritsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Anti-Slip Machiney

I wanna be a 𝓫𝓸𝓰 𝓱𝓸𝓰

S h e e p s k i n

Ahahaha! Time to go extinct!

Pigeons are lawless

g....,,,,g.,,.gender neutral,,candy.,..,..,,,,?

Shut the helleth the fucketh up

WHAT IFTOE came OFF LIKE RUBBER FINGERTIP

Fuck the shut up

Life’s too short to even have you in it

Commit the unexistence

Loop zoop

*dances till I die of exhaustion like the dancing plague of 1518*

That’s not how flavor works,LINDA

Lib stash? Removed

Maroon is just navy red

W̶̛̟͕͔͇͚̒̀͋͋̈́̒̚̕E̶̡̧̘̻̙̣͇̰͓̙̹̰͙̭̒͋̽͌̂̋̈́̆̍̌̃̾E̵̯̼̽̒̋̔͌̇̔̏̅̕͜D̵̨̬͖͉̮̼̀̐̂͒͋̏̌̂͒̀̍̓͝͠͠ ̸̮̠̙̤͔͔͊͂̍͗̅̐̓̇̒̓̾͛̕͝ͅĘ̵̮̮͕̬̗̜̰̥̦̩̠͍̪̣̔͛̐̈́̏̃̑ͅȂ̸̧̮̅̐̒̈́̀̓͋̀͘͝T̵̟̪̱̘̬͙̺͖̼̅͗̇̈́̔̌́͐̿E̴̢̥̣̞̠̝̻͗̈́̄͝Ŗ̷̪̲͉̳̦͈̣̠̖̬̫͆͜͜

This user is ʗʜɘɘʂɐ

HA HA. Classic Oatmeal.

Alola ash looks like lil slugger from paranoia agent

In the name of the moon,I'm gonna kill you

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! RUG!

When in doubt,duke it out

Id love to talk to you about my vegan bicycle

bro have u ever snorted a weed

Dark web furry

Jam BACK

Blasphemous,but strangely arousing

i 💞 jesus

she has 4 boyfriends and now shes pregnant

i dont remember reading about nipple clamps in the bible

chi-chiaki ?? put your.. ti-titties away.. hajime said no !!

[th statuce]

i require more cheese,papa johns

vegetables are a social construct

he die in the death

if i eated soap,i didnt do it because i did,no i didnt

Hello fellow undertale fan,would you please send me a photograph of your tongue,ma’am?

socierty,we live i na csociery! we do<! we do,i know we do! the gameres are oepreseided1 RISE UP TGAMERS! we likve in a socyiettyry.

jesus wrote the bible and he added nipple clamps in a later version its true i was there

miss river clan 2020

hairy wood

🦍

golira

ka-splat! now whos applesauce!!

かめはめはあああああああああああああああ

rawce

Uh oh sisters! *vomits blood and dies

𝒦𝑜𝓀𝒾𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓾𝓬𝓴

#long #its really long #idk when i made it #but i made it sometime #alot of these are from tumblr posts i saw #alot of them #like #alot alot #a list #i guess

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vampwrrrmistresslist · 6 years

Text

No Such Thing 3

A/N: This is the third chapter of a finished series, the links for which are on my mistresslist.

The next day you awoke to the sight of Xiumin grinning at you like an excited puppy, from the adjacent pillow. Groaning, you rolled over, and pulled the covers over your head. “Those bright eyes are too much to wake up to, this early in the morning!” You felt him climb over you, then the comforter was rudely ripped off of your head.

“Wake up! Wake up! It’s time to eat breakfast!”

“I hate breakfast!”

“You love breakfast!”

“I love breakfast food. I hate having to wake up to eat it.”

Xiumin jumped off of you, pulled the covers away from your body and, taking you firmly by the paws of your Pororo onesie, started pulling you out of bed. “Come on!”

When you emerged from your room, your eyes widened in surprise. “You cooked?!”

He dropped your hands, and moved behind you to push you toward the table, instead of pulling. “Well, no, not really. I just warmed up some of the banchan that Omonim dropped off last time, along with some rice, and kimchi jjiggae.”

“And you expect me to eat all of this? Xiuminah, it’s the crack of–” you squinted at your watch “10 in the morning!”

“Yes! And you have class at 12, so come on, let’s go!” Plopping you down in the chair, he dragged the one beside you closer, and dropped down on it, watching you expectantly.

Sighing, you picked up your chopsticks. “You had better be glad that you’re cute.”

***

The next few months were a blissful whirlwind of sweet kisses, and bone-satisfying hugs. Xiumin cuddled you constantly, finding any excuse he could to wrap his arms around you, and you certainly weren’t complaining. You just wished that he could sleep.

***

“Guess who!” you trilled, coming up behind Xiumin to cover his eyes, with your hands.

He reached back, slowly patting his hand up and down your calf. “Well, considering the amount of hair on your leg, I’d say…Chanyeol?”

Snatching away your hands, you pushed him forward with a disdainful harrumph, and turned to walk away. “See if I let you touch these legs ever again.”

Eyes widening, he ran around you, holding out his arms to arrest your progress. “Wait! No! I was kidding! Your legs are as smooth as newly born baby butts. I love them! Don’t take them away from me!”

Kicking aimlessly, you grinned. “Better be glad that I am a beneficent girlfriend.” Walking forward, you took his face in your hands, squishing it until his lips popped out in a little pout. “Besides, how am I supposed to resist this squishy widdle face?”

“Iwon’know,” he responded through squooshed lips.

You let him go, walked to the front door and opened it, then looked over your shoulder, and said, “Aren’t you coming?”

He sauntered toward you. “Where are we going?”

“The time has come to procure more feline minions!” you said, reaching into the hall closet to grab the cat carrier.

Xiumin’s eyes lit up as his entire face brightened. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Well, you know what this means.”

“What?”

“We’re about to have truly epic cuddle puddles.”

***

At the shelter, a sweet little six-week kitten who was all-black with a white chest, and star on her forehead, caught Xiumin’s eye. He reached up, and scratched her behind the ears as she pushed her face against the bars.

“Wow!” said the volunteer who was showing you the cats. “She’s feeling really affectionate. She never does that!”

You smiled, and subtly turned to meet Xiumin’s eyes. He nodded, and you returned your gaze to the volunteer. “We’ll take that one, and choose one more.”

She laughed. “We?”

“Oh, well…I’m choosing for my boyfriend, as well.”

“Ahhh,” she said, nodding. “Well, see anyone else you like?”

A small grey foot pressed against one of the bottom cages caught your eye. Walking over, and crouching down, you saw a 6 month tabby lying catty-corner in his cage. His ears twitched back toward you as you drew closer, and he turned, looking at you over his shoulder. Then, turning back around, with a small mew, he rested his head on his paws.

“Awww!” you crooned. “He’s so sad!”

“Oh, that one doesn’t interact much. He has been here since he was born. Since he isn’t as playful as the others, he doesn’t really catch anyone’s eye.”

You looked up at Xiumin, your eyes pleading.

He nodded down at you, blinking slowly, and cutely scrunching his nose in agreement.

Turning back to the volunteer, you said, “We want him.”

***

When you released the new kittens into your apartment, the baby went wild, tearing all over everything in a desperate attempt to sniff every single surface simultaneously. The boy followed at a more leisurely pace, sniffing at the occasional corner, and solemnly rubbing his cheek on it. Bubba emerged from the bedroom to watch the commotion, looking down in consternation when the younger kitten rushed up to her, only to sniff her chest, and then rub her tiny face all over every body part of Bubba’s that she could reach. Bubba looked up at you with an expression that seemed to say, “Really?”

Xiumin laughed, crouching down to observe the cat’s antics from a closer level. The male cat sauntered over to him, and casually climbed into his lap, relaxing his body so that it spilled from both sides of Xiumin’s legs, as the cat threw back his head in total relaxation. “Well,” Xiumin said, “I guess he likes me.”

You sat cross-legged on the floor, hands out to play with the kitten who came tripping over to try to climb up the front of your shirt to sniff your face. “What do you want to name them?”

“Me?”

“Well, I got to name Bubba, so now it’s your turn.”

He thought for a moment, then looked down at the lazy boy in his lap, and said, “Mun.”

“Okay. And this one?” you asked, gesturing toward the girl who was busy climbing up your shoulders to try to make her way to the top of your head.

Xiumin tilted his head in consideration. After several moments, he asked, “Somteul?”

“Oh, I like it!” you agreed.

Picking up Mun from his lap, Xiumin put him in the crook of his arm, and then moved closer to you, and sat. Leaning over, he gave you a lingering peck, smiling as he moved back, his eyes twinkling as he watched the blush creep up your cheeks. “This is nice,” he said.

Peeling Somteul off of the top of your head, and putting her in your lap, you leaned toward Xiumin, lifting up slightly to return the kiss. Bubba walked over to begin sniffing Mun and, when she was satisfied, put a paw on Xiumin’s shin, so that she could lean close enough to start grooming Mun’s cheek, which he allowed with aristocratic graciousness.

When you broke the kiss, Xiumin was looking down at you, his eyes shining. Slowly, he shook his head. “No. This is perfect.”

Reaching up, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer, as you smiled into another kiss.

***

Your knees pulsed and burned as you punched in the code to your door. Entering the apartment, you limped toward your couch, grateful to finally be able to take your weight off of your legs.

Before the door closed, Xiumin walked through it, as he coincidentally arrived home just seconds after you. Spotting you limping, he rushed over to help you onto the couch, crouching in front of you, once you were settled. “What happened?” he asked, looking up at you, before his eyes were drawn to your bloody, swollen knees, the tights around them ripped, and laddered.

“I was walking across the campus parking lot, and I guess that there was a hole under the snow, because when I stepped down, there was no ground where ground should be, and my leg went in up to my knee. Unfortunately, my other leg kept going forward, and I tripped, fell, and hurt myself.”

He pouted as he looked over the fronts of your knees. Gripping your already ruined tights in his hands, he ripped, creating larger holes, so that he could examine your wounds with no impediments.

Though your knees were throbbing, your heart secretly fluttered at the manly gesture.

Looking back up at you, he asked, “Do they hurt a lot?”

You shook your head. “It’s not too bad. I was more embarrassed, than anything else.”

“I’ll be right back.”

He returned in a matter of moments with a first aid kit, a bottle of water, and some hand soap. He pulled out some gauze, and held it under each wound, as he used the water to irrigate your scrapes, ensuring that there was no debris left behind to hurt you further, before soaping your knees, and rinsing them again. Taking a betadine q-tip, he dabbed at the scrapes, wincing when you hissed, and fidgeted. “It hurts, right? I’m sorry. I’ll try to be as gentle as possible.”

As he worked, he shook his head. “You need to be more careful. When you get hurt like this, you hurt your shin!”

“My shin?”

“No, gwishin!” He stopped and grinned.

You groaned. “Why me?!”

After covering every cut with betadine, Xiumin blew on your knees, to take away the sting. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you couldn’t feel his breath.

“Better?” he asked, looking up at you, his eyes worried.

You reached out to stroke his hair. “Better.”

Smiling, he looked back down, applying gauze to your knees, and then adhering it to your skin with surgical tape. Once the gauze was in place, he bent down, and placed a gentle kiss on each knee. “The scrapes were pretty superficial. I don’t think that they’ll scar. If they do, though, I’ll kiss them every day.”

Giggling, you ruffled his hair. “You’re such a softie.”

Leaning forward, he rested his chin on the tops of your knees, wrapping his arms around your calves, and resting his chest on your shins, as he looked up at you. “Only for you.”

You came closer, and kissed him on the forehead. “Marshmallow.”

***

One night found you cuddled on the couch, half lying on Xiumin, who was gently stroking your hair as you both watched a drama, the cats lying about the room, in various states of colloidal majesty.

“Xiuminah?”

“Yes?”

“What can I do for you?”

“Hm?”

Twisting around you looked up at him. “You’re always doing nice things for me. Is there anything that I can do for you?” You didn’t add what you were thinking. You couldn’t cook, or buy treats for him. His body never hurt, so he never needed a massage. He was never dirty, and couldn’t feel heat, so there was no point in drawing a bath for him, or taking him to jjimjilbang. Taking him drinking was out. He didn’t go to work, or school, so there was never a chance to surprise him. You were at a loss. Just what benefit were you, to him?

Xiumin smiled down at you. “You do things for me every day, aein. You greet me in the morning, you take my advice, you listen attentively to whatever is on my mind.” Sliding his hand down your arm, he laid it over yours, gently twining your fingers together. “When you touch me, I feel normal. When I’m with you, I’m not a gwishin who can’t even remember his real name, I’m just… your Xiuminah. I was alone, lonely, and scared before I met you, and now…you make me feel safe. You make me feel needed.”

Leaning up, you kissed him. Soft and slow. Xiumin smiled into the kiss, then moved to adjust you so that you were facing him, with his arms sliding around your waist, so that he could rest his hands on the small of your back, while you slid your hands upward to rest on his shoulders.

When you broke apart, he leaned forward to nuzzle your nose while he grinned. “If you really want to know, you can keep doing that for me. Even though I can’t feel anything else, whenever I’m close to you, I feel…warm.”

You teasingly nipped at his chin. “Well, don’t let me distract you from the drama…”

Reaching up, he grabbed the remote, and turned off the television. Leaning back down to you, he said, “What drama?”

***

“Xiuminah.”

“Hm?”

“What do you do when you leave?”

He shrugged, looking up from your laptop, where he was reading articles on architecture. “I try…to be helpful. Catch people’s phones when they drop them. Mercilessly poke the sides of guys who won’t leave uninterested girls alone. Move tripping hazards out of the way of playing children. Pet stray cats.” He sighed. “Just…stuff.”

Standing up from your armchair, you walked over, wrapping your arms around him, and resting your chin on his shoulder. “You’re a pretty amazing guy.”

He scoffed. “You’re biased.”

“I may be biased, but it’s still truth. If memory serves me correct, the first interaction we had, was you helping me take the gim from off of the fridge, because I couldn’t reach it. You’re like…a good deed fairy.”

“Well, I need something to occupy my time, so why not do nice things? I like the feeling I get when I help people. When I see the relief, or happiness, on their faces, it makes me feel warm inside, like drinking hot cocoa.”

“You know, sometimes you allude to memories… What can you remember?”

Xiumin gave a ghost of a smile. “Nothing about who I am. Just flashes, and impressions. The warm feeling of drinking something hot…the satisfied feeling of a full belly. The rush of excitement when I had somewhere to go. The simple satisfaction of catching someone’s eye, and feeling that connection with another person.”

“Your answers are always so thoughtful. I love that about you.”

“Really?” He broke away from your hold, turning so that he could face you. “What else do you love?”

“Mm…” You reached up to trace his eyebrows with a fingertip. “Your eyebrows, which look like raven’s wings.” Reaching up further, you carded your fingers through his soft locks. “Your hair, cool on my hands.” Poking his face, you grinned, and said, “Your sweet, sweet steamed bun cheeks.”

He smiled, and you reciprocated in delight. “That. I love that; your smile. Your smile gives me joy. Your smile brightens my day. Your smile gives me strength, when I want to quit. It’s a privilege to be able to enjoy it.” You placed a soft kiss on his smiling mouth.

Retreating, fingertips drifting, you lowered your hands to gently stroke his adam’s apple. “This. I’m a big fan of this.” Letting your fingers continue to roam, you traced the shells of his ears, gently tapping his earlobes. “Your cute little studs.”

Running your eyes over his face, you asked, “Xiuminah, did you know that you have the prettiest eyes that I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing? Your lashes are so thick and sooty; I want to steal them.”

“You don’t have to steal them. I’ll give them to you.”

“Oh?”

Leaning forward, he fluttered his lashes against your cheek, the ticklish sensation causing you to giggle. That…was a mistake.

“You’re ticklish?”

You tried to play it chill. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Oh, really? So, it wouldn’t tickle…ifIdidTHIS?!” His sentence ended on a yell, as he grabbed your arm, and lifted it, his maddening agile fingers finding your ticklish spots, and dancing over them.

Trying valiantly to get away, you writhed like a fish, desperate cackles echoing through the apartment as his fingers moved from under your arm to your sides. “I hate you! I hate you!” you giggled maniacally.

“What was that? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of all this…tickling!” He attacked you anew, tickling you until you were breathless, and red-faced. When he finally stopped, you lay boneless on the couch, panting and weak.

“You’re a monster.”

Xiumin nodded comfortably, lying on his side next to you, his head propped on his hand. “A tickle monster.”

Groaning, you smacked him in the chest with a stuffed animal. “No! No corny jokes! Bad Xiuminah! Not on top of The Great Tickle Massacre of 2018!”

“You love my corny jokes.”

You groaned again, then nodded. “I do. What’s wrong with me? I even love your corny jokes. You’re not a man, you’re a siren. A siren who lures his prey with dad jokes.”

“That’s my charm.”

***

A hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged you backward onto a lap. Yelping in surprise, you struggled, but the man’s grip was too strong.

You had run out to your favourite pojangmacha, with a powerful craving for mandu, odeng, and hotteok, planning to collect your ill-gotten gains, and then rush them back home to sybaritically gorge until you metamorphosed into a beached whale.

“Ahgasshi! Come drink with me!” A highly inebriated middle-aged salaryman nuzzled his face into your back, as you tried to get away without dropping your food.

“Ajusshi! Please! Let go of me!” you huffed in frustration, catching eyes with Xiumin, who was obviously trying to not laugh at your predicament.

“Just one drink! I’ve had such a hard day…”

“I’m sorry for that, but I neither want to drink with you, nor sit on your lap!”

“I’ll buy! I’ll feed you!”

Xiumin raised an eyebrow, silently asking if you wanted him to step in.

One moment, you mouthed at him, then turned to the stranger. “Ajusshi…”

“Yes?” he asked, his face brightening.

“I’ll drink with you on one condition.”

“Of course!” he slurred, somehow managing to sway, even though he was sitting.

“Let me go, and I’ll tell you.”

“Oh, okay!” he agreed, dropping his arms from around your waist.

Standing quickly, you slid into the chair across from him, and put your food on the table. “I’ll drink with you, Ajusshi…if you can beat me in arm wrestling.”

A slow grin made its way across Xiumin’s face as he realized your plan.

The ajusshi grinned, looking you over. “Ah, if you wanted to hold my hand, you could have just asked!”

Gesturing for him to put his arm on the table, you smiled beatifically. “Let’s go.”

He did, and Xiumin maneuvered, so that he could grip the man’s hand at the same time as you.

Smiling at the man, you said, “Why don’t you count down?”

Looking around, his expression cocky, the man counted, and the match began.

Xiumin let him get his hand almost to the table.

The ajusshi looked up at you, grinning, as you leaned on the table, resting your chin in your other hand. “Give up?” he asked, relaxing his grip.

“Almost doesn’t count, Ajusshi.”

Shaking his head, he said, “Alright,” and put his back into it. His hand hovered over the table. Trying again, he put a bit more strength into it, his face starting to turn red with strain.

“Ajusshi! What’s taking so long? Come on! Arm wrestle me properly!”

He huffed, face shaking slightly as he tried to force his hand toward the table.

Slowly, slowly, Xiumin lifted his hand, pressing the ajusshi’s hand back further and further until it crested, and started down the other side.

The ajusshi stared at your joined hands in disbelief, as you seemingly, with no strain, inexorably pushed his hand toward the table until it hovered a centimetre away. He looked up at you, eyebrows knit in consternation.

You blew him a kiss.

With a burst of strength Xiumin pushed his hand down, forcing the ajusshi’s hand to flatten on the table.

The man leaned back, staring at you in disbelief.

“Aigoo, aigoo,” you groaned, rolling your wrist dramatically as you stood. Leaning over, you took his full shot of soju, and downed it, turning over the glass and setting it back down on the table with a bang. You leaned over him, putting a firm hand on his shoulder, and saying, “Ajusshi, go home. I think that you’ve had enough to drink–don’t live your life this way, hm?”

Grabbing your food, you turned around, and headed home.

***

As soon as you were out of view of the pojangmacha, you both doubled over, giggling.

“That was great!” you cackled

“Yah, you might have scared him off drinking, for life!”

“Good!” You giggled, thinking about it. “If drinking makes him grope random strangers on the street, then he needs to stop.”

“Oh, and what was with that drinking of his shot?! Yah, you looked so cool!”

“My heart was beating so fast, I thought that I was going to faint! I’ve always wanted to do something like that, but I was afraid that I could never pull it off!”

Xiumin’s eyes shone, as he looked down at you, still giggling from your adventure. “I could spend forever watching you laugh.”

Your chuckling died down as his words sank in. Forever. Swiftly, before he could notice your change in mood, you pulled him into a side alley, stood on your tiptoes, and kissed him until he looked down at you in a daze. “Come on, Xiuminah. Let’s go home.”

***

Life was idyllic, and yet, waking up every morning to Xiumin’s bright eyes and bushy tail began to wrack you with guilt.

Sure, you liked him, because he was objectively great, but…what about you? Did he really like you–could he really like you, when he didn’t really have a choice? You were the only one who could see him. His entire world was you, and a measly 10 km radius in any given direction. Was it fair to let him fall in love with you? Were you willing to live there, forever? Were you willing to try to take him with you, if you left? Were you willing to give up girlish dreams of getting married, of having children, for a man who wouldn’t grow old with you, and who would just be left alone when you died? Was that fair to you? Was that fair to him?

For the most part, however, you sublimated these thoughts by throwing yourself even further into your work and studies, so that, when you came home, you were too tired to do anything but enjoy him sincerely.

One day, while he was out and about, Chanyeol came over.

As soon as he sat down next to you on the sofa and got a good look at your face, he knew. “No, way!”

“What?”

“You’re not!”

“What?!”

“You couldn’t be that stupid!”

“Uh…are you going to invite me to this conversation, or are you just going to have the entire thing by yourself?”

“You’re dating the gwishin!”

Your jaw dropped. “Forget him, you’re the gwishin! How could you possibly know that?!”

“I can always tell when you’re dating. You get this soft look on your face, like you’re dreaming, even when you’re awake.”

“Well, what makes you think that I’m dating Xiumin? I do attend a university full of eligible young bachelors.”

“I’m your oppa. I just know. How long has it been going on?”

You were silent for a moment. Then, quietly. “Several months.”

“Months?!” he exploded. “That’s it–you’re moving!”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Park Chanyeol, your little sister is a legal adult! You can’t make me do anything!”

“I can tell our parents.”

“Tell them what? Tell them gwishin are real? Tell them that their daughter lives with one? Tell them that she’s dating him?! They’ll have you institutionalized.” You winced as he kicked your coffee table.

“How far has it gone?”

You stood up in offense, your entire body shaking as your face turned crimson. “That is absolutely none of your business!”

“You are my business! Especially when you’re making piss-poor decisions!” He grabbed you by the arm, and pulled you back down, looking back and forth at your eyes, as if he were reading. Whatever he saw made him sag in relief. “Thank goodness. At least you’re not a complete imbecile.”

“Like you haven’t dated some questionable girls! Remember the girl who broke up with you over the phone while you were in the middle of making her a hundred paper cranes?”

“Yeah, well, at least she was LIVING!” he roared. “Xiumin-sshi doesn’t even remember who he is! Was. Is. Whatever! What if he was a rapist? What if he was a murderer?!”

A movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention, and you turned to see Xiumin standing there, looking at Chanyeol, with heartbreak written in his eyes. You jumped up to run to him. “No! Aein, ignore him! He’s just–” Before you could even finish your sentence, he had disappeared. “Xiuminah! Xiuminah!” No answer.

“Get out,” you said quietly.

“We’re going to talk about this–”

“Get OUT!” you screamed, turning on your brother, your face scarlet as you doubled over with the vehemence of your scream.

He jumped up and backed away, for the first time looking unsure. “We are going to talk about this. But we can do it when you’re calmer. I’ll be back.” You rushed at him, and he scurried to the door, running out, and slamming it before you could reach him. “Tomorrow!”

***

You called and called, but Xiumin didn’t come back. He didn’t come back the next day, or the day after that.

Follow me @vampwrrr for the latest updates. The final chapter of this fic can be found there.

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snarkybluechristian · 6 years

Text

Hazbin Hotel: Satan’s Plan Part 7 (Collab with Dinobot King)

Author’s Note: I got the dates for the Book of Judges wrong. Delilah should be almost 3,000 years old, not almost 12,000. My bad! I’ll be correcting it in the future.

Later, out in the hallway, Charlie and her two bodyguards Razzle and Dazzle were carrying gift baskets for Sir Pentious and his two Egg Bois.

Back in their hotel room, the Egg Bois were finishing up organizing their clothes into their room’s bureau.

“Okay, boss,” one of the Egg Bois said as the Eggs laid their sleeping bags on the floor. “We’re done organizing everything. What’s the next step?”

“Now, we scout and wait,” Sir Pentious said adjusting his hat. “We can’t have the princess or her friends sniffing up our scent. We’re going to ingratiate them into liking us so that they do not suspect a thing. That shouldn’t be too hard with her highness, but that purple church bell and Dust are going to be a challenge. But whatever happens, remember this. After everything the Devil did to force me…us into spying on his daughter, we can’t risk doing anything that might get us exposed.”

“Awwww!” one of the Egg Bois groaned sadly. “I thought this was going to be a vacation…Guk!”

Sir Pentious slammed his tail on top of the Egg Boi and growled sarcastically, “Oh, you thought this was a vacation?! Well, excuse me! Would you like to order room service?!”

“Uh, no thank you, sir,” the Egg Boi said nervously. “I think I’ll just walk to the cafeteria to spy on the princess.”

“That’s better,” Sir Pentious said while wrapping his tail around the Egg Boi and tossing him over to the bed. “But to be safe, you’re going to be replaced with Toulouse for the next rotation.”

“Awwww!” the Egg Boi whined crossing his arms while laying upside down against the pillows covering the head board. “Why does Toulouse get to do everything? You just like him best because he’s the original.”

“No, I like him best because he has more brain cells than any of his clones,” Sir Pentious retorted while rubbing his temples. “Now, drop the attitude or you go home now!”

“Okay, sorry, Mr. Boss Man,” the Egg Boi apologized.

“That’s better,” Sir Pentious replied crossing his arms and smirking wickedly. “As for the princess, you leave her to me. I will keep her so distracted she won’t even have time to think.”

Then, all of a sudden, a knock came to the door.

“Oh, Sir Pentious!” a familiar cheerful and melodic voice called out from the other side.

“Oh, no,” one Egg Boi said quietly as he and his colleague pulled out their guns and knives respectively. “It’s the princess.”

“What are you doing, ya stupid gits?” Sir Pentious whispered loudly. “Put those weapons away right now. We can’t hurt her.”

“Then, what do we do, boss?” an Egg Boi asked.

“Just listen closely,” Sir Pentious whispered. “I have an idea.”

Charlie knocked again and said, “Sir Pentious, are you in there? Hmmm…Maybe he went to the cafeteria…”

She turned to her bodyguards. Razzle looked at her in worry while Dazzle shook his head.

“Oh, you two worry too much,” Charlie said optimistically. “I’m sure he’s just fine…”

“Do you have any twos?!” Sir Pentious called out in a focused voice that led Charlie to open the door without thinking.

Charlie saw the snake demon sitting on the floor playing a card game with his Egg Bois on his bed.

“I have a full house,” the Egg Boi said throwing his cards down on the bed. “I win.”

“Thrhys, that is not how you play this game,” the other Egg Boi protested while Sir Pentious tried his best to pretend he was calm and resist the urge to facepalm in frustration.

“What are you talking about, Austen?” Thrys asked in annoyance. “A full house is good in Poker.”

“No, we’re playing Go Fish, you moron,” Austen replied.

“Who are you calling a moron?” Thrys retorted.

“Okay, okay, everyone, calm down,” Sir Pentious said calmly with a fake smile and a serious glare that they quickly understood. “All that matters is that we’re having fun, right?”

“Yeah!” the Egg Bois quickly cheered while rushing over to give their boss a hug.

Sir Pentious grimaced briefly at their touch, but he forced himself to put his hands on their backs to look more convincing.

“Awww,” Charlie squealed quietly as her lips curled into a big smile.

“Oh, your highness,” Sir Pentious said pretending to suddenly notice her presence. “How can I help you?”

“Oh, uh, Sir Pentious,” Charlie said nervously with a blush. “I am so sorry. I should have known better than to enter your room.”

“Don’t worry about it, dear,” Sir Pentious said slithering over to where Charlie was standing so quickly that the Egg Bois fell on their faces. “All is forgiven. Are those baskets for us?”

“Oh, yeah,” Charlie said walking in and placing the gift basket on the bureau while her two bodyguards laid the gift baskets on the other side of the floor as the Egg Bois quickly ran over to get them. “This is just a little something from all of us to welcome you to the hotel. I hope you like it.”

Sir Pentious quickly slithered over to where Charlie was standing, gently took her right hand, and gave it a little kiss.

“I know we will, your majesty,” Sir Pentious said sounding as charming as he possibly could. “Thank you.”

Unfortunately for him however, he heard growling coming from Charlie’s feet. Sir Pentious opened his eyes to see Razzle and Dazzle give the kingpin a warning growl. He slowly let go of Charlie’s hands and slithered back a few feet.

“Hello, there,” Sir Pentious said nervously reaching his hand out towards Razzle. “Who might you two be?”

Razzle opened his jaws and lunged forward towards the snake demon’s fingers. Sir Pentious had just enough time to pull his hand back while involuntarily making a small yelp.

“Razzle, stop that!” Charlie exclaimed. “Sir Pentious, I am so sorry! These are my bodyguards. They were gifts from my father. They can be a bit overprotective.”

“I see,” Sir Pentious commented.

Dazzle grabbed a cupcake out of Sir Pentious’ gift basket and hid it behind his back before Charlie turned back around and warned, “You two need to behave yourselves right now or tonight you’re not getting any dessert!”

“Don’t worry about it, your majesty,” Sir Pentious said reassuringly. “I feel blessed just to be in the presence of an angel such as yourself. Besides, how can I stay mad at these two? They’re so cute.”

Sir Pentious opened his arms and cooed to the Egg Bois, “Come on, you cuties. How about we kiss and make up?”

Dazzle and Razzle glanced at each other for a moment before Dazzle chucked the cupcake he was hiding straight into Sir Pentious’ left eye.

“OW! My eye!” Sir Pentious squealed in pain as the two goat bois keeled over in laughter and the Egg Bois trembled in fearful anticipation of how their boss would react.

“Razzle! Dazzle!” Charlie yelled angrily. “Get out right now! I can’t believe you just…”

“No need to fret, princess,” Sir Pentious said in a surprisingly calm tone.

The two Egg Bois tentatively walked to their boss in disbelief before he took the cupcake from his eye, took a bite out of it, and continued, “This cupcake you made is quite delicious, your highness.”

“Oh, please, call me Charlie,” Charlie replied nervously before turning to her bodyguards. “You two can go to your room and come back later when you’re ready to say you’re sorry! Now, go!”

While Razzle and Dazzle sulked and walked away, Sir Pentious slithered over to the bathroom with his Egg Bois to get the cupcake out of his eye.

“Boss, are you okay?” Austen whispered while wetting a washcloth.

“Yeah, that look like it hurt,” Thrys said holding the cupcake in his hands.

“It did,” Sir Pentious whispered angrily while wiping the icing off his face. “I swear, if we weren’t undercover, I would turn those goats into lamb sandwiches.”

Once all the icing was gone, Sir Pentious lathered the washcloth with soap and proceeded to wash his face.

When he finally finished rinsing out, Charlie stood by the bathroom door and said, “Hey. I’m really sorry about that. I’ll be going. Be sure to let me know if you need anything…”

“Wait,” Sir Pentious said wiping his face with a towel. “Charlie, I would like to tour the premises if it’s not too much trouble. Just in case the Egg Bois or I get lost. Would you be willing to oblige?”

“Of course,” Charlie replied cheerfully. “We have about an hour or two before our next session anyway. Just follow me!”

“But boss, we’re hungry,” Thrys complained.

Sir Pentious glared at him, but Charlie grabbed another towel from the bathroom and said, “Oh, that’s fine. We can eat food from the baskets first. Let me just set this towel and we can have a picnic on the floor!”

“Yay!” the Egg Bois squealed while Sir Pentious put on the best fake smile he could muster.

After about an hour of eating and chatting merrily in Sir Pentious’ room, they finally got around to the tour.

As he, his minions, and Charlie walked through the hallway, Sir Pentious couldn’t help but notice all the portraits of the Magne family and the other fallen angels who made up Satan’s family. He hissed in silence as his eyes fell on the Devil that he hated and feared. He didn’t dare to stare though for fear that Satan’s eyes would start staring back.

Instead, the portraits of Lilith stopped him in his tracks. He stood in awe of the succubus that every incubus like him wanted but could never have. He got a closer look at the portrait to get every detail and noticed that there were scratches on her back when she posed revealing her back. They were faint, but his snake eyes could see them.

“So, Satan is violent with all his lovers,” Sir Pentious whispered to himself. “Lilith is the most powerful succubus, but Delilah…”

“Sir Pentious, are you coming?” Charlie asked calling back to him from down the hall.

“Forgive me, princess,” Sir Pentious said. “You have many interesting portraits here. I couldn’t help but take a look. Your family is quite large.”

“I know, that’s how my father can spread so much evil on earth and in hell,” Charlie replied somewhat sadly. “They’re outnumbered by the angels in heaven, but that just makes them work harder.”

“Interesting,” Sir Pentious said quickly slithering to catch up with her as they continued walking around the hotel until eventually.

“Alright, here’s the lobby and over there is the café and that concludes our tour,” Charlie said writing something with her pen on her clipboard.

“Thank you very much, your high…I mean, Charlie,” Sir Pentious said. “Now that that is out of the way, I think we’ll be returning to our room now…”

“Alright, everybody!” Vaggie shouted to the small group of demons entering the meeting room. “Session 5 is about to begin. Move it or lose it!”

“What is she talking about?” Sir Pentious wondered out loud.

“Yay! Our group therapy session is about to start!” Charlie said wrapping an arm around Sir Pentious and pushing him forward into the room.

Sir Pentious gulped audibly and protested meekly, “Your majesty, I don’t think I’m ready for…”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Charlie said walking ahead and pulling him behind her. “There’s no need to be shy. We’re all friends here.”

Sir Pentious started sweating nervously as Charlie finally pulled him into the room with the Egg Bois following behind him.

#hazbin hotel #sir pentious

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nixalegos · 6 years

Note

♠ - What is your muse’s weapon of choice? Is it magical or mundane in nature?

“Alot of people will claim it’s my bolt gun. It was my first thought too. But that’s not really a weapon, not really. Just a tool. Used for securing metal to metal. Used to sound out an enemies protections. Truesilver tips on each, pops arcane wards like soap bubbles you know. That’s why paladins use longswords of the stuff. A warning shot, if you will.” The hooded man said as he lit up his coffin nail with an errant spark evoked from forefinger and thumb.

“...I don’t call myself a master warlock, or think my means are superior. I dislike the notion of mastery as a concept actually. A true master, is an eternal student. The paradoxical irony that riddles all through our craft, one that belies a need for deeper understanding. No. When I think of my -weapon-. I think of one thing.” Only for the man to grin.

“Well two things actually, but you want an answer not a psych profile. I think of fel fire.” Only for him to take a slow measured drag, smoke spilling past his lips, his warming smile all teeth.

“Curses and hexes and fear itself? The tool in trade for a sadist. Painful, effective, but slow. You need to enjoy watching. Gives them a chance to struggle, to resist, to fight through the pain, pure entertainment. I notice lately battlefield afflcitionists use alot more lances and bolts, that’s not a coincidence, but circumstance. A means to shore up a weakness without understanding the need for it in the first place. The longer you let your enemy rot, the more time they have to end you, to dispel what plagues them and cave your skull in. You must -give- your victim a chance. The magic depends on this window, thats how it manages to hurt others so well, but pain is countered by excessive time, time to heal, time to escape. Its weakness is generosity, even as it takes.”

“Demons, on the other hand, strength in numbers, a variety of means to cause havoc and sow terror. Dozens of imps, powerful hellhounds that leap and flank, bruisers that charge or cast their own magic to disrupt under a watchful calculating eye. I’m not a half bad tactician myself you know. I am more then familiar with the unspoken maneuvers and tricks a demonologist needs to be successful. For all the power in commanding such terrible minions, it too has its failing. Namely, that the weakest link in the chain, is the summoner holding the chain themselves. To reel in their minions to defend, lessens their offensive capabilities and so in reverse. You are ever always holding back, or going too far. Numbers, tactics, and ferocity are countered by timing and the -removal- of time to react. Its weakness is the same as the hydra, ignore the threatening braying heads, spear the heart. Instantly and decisively.”

“But fire? Evocations? Is it simple magic by comparison. Lackluster even, despite the fireworks. You fling your will out, and let death burn outwards. Maybe its small compact explosions. Or whipping streaks of smoldering consumption. Maybe a missile of raw unadulterated chaos that can sunder the very fabric of reality. It is so simple a less forgiving scholar would call it out for its braindead nature. I mean, its -just- fire, who can’t use it? But fel fire? It doesn’t just eat away at flesh. You know this. I know this. Those burns go deeper then bones. Eats and blackens a soul. There’s value in this, but let me finish my first point. For many they would see such a predictable style as the easiest to stop. Put a wall between you and those flames. Let the flames putter out from sheer distance, get in close and hope they miss. But so long as there is things to burn, the flames -don’t stop-”

“Strange isn’t it? Curses are hampered by too much time, despite being its strongest period. Demonology by too little time even with minions already there supporting. But evocations? The same methodology isn’t applicable. Its means ignores the ebb and flow of battle, the intricate weavesong of time and will all casters of all disciplines dance. Flames hurt from the onset, and they’ll hurt even more the longer you let them burn and scorch and devour the very air surrounding your foe, a humiliating merciless death by convection. The magic-”

He snapped.

“Is mostly instant. And that’s the point. My weapon of choice in truth, is the oblivion of tempo by flame. My desire to end a fight -RIGHT NOW- made magically real.” He said as he took another drag.

“Wait- no, maybe it’s my staff!”

Thanks @loveherdekay!

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theycallmemoosey · 6 years

Text

Biggest Dumbass In The World

Jack Kelly x Reader

A/N - I saw a post one day and decided it would make a good theme for a fic. I’m sorry it’s so long, but I hope it’s ok. And I can't remember who posted it. But a huge credit to whoever came up with the idea of Jack testifying in court with “I’m the biggest dumbass in the world”. Moose :) ——————————————

“Y/N! Quick!” You hurried down the stairs of the lodging house as fast as your legs would carry you. Hearing a Newsie call your name in distress set your instincts into mother mode. “What?! What is it?!” “It’s Jack! Snyder caught him! They’s taking him to the refuge!” Your eyes widened in shock, and you stumbled back. You couldn’t have him leave you all alone again. You couldn’t bare to see him return, his eyes full of sadness, his nightmares keeping him up all night. You pushed passed all the boys in your way, sprinting towards the refuge. You don’t know how you made it all the way without stopping, but the thought of Snyder hurting Jack, the boy who raised you when no one else would, was worse than a million heart breaks. You stopped outside the refuge gates, waiting for a carriage to come out. You snuck in, stealthily making your way to the pipe that you felt was safe enough to climb. You were out of breath, and you felt like your arms could drop, but you had to get Jack out. “Pssst!” You whispered through the barred windows, “Hey!” A small girl, no older than 10, padded to the window, “who are you?” “Hey, I’m here to get my friend, is he here?” “I don’t know…what’s his name?” “His name is Jack. Kelly.” The girl walked away from the window and out of sight, and you huffed, struggling to keep yourself up. You were greeted by an older girl, around your age, who just stared you down. “What you want with Jack?” “I want him back. Just…is he in there?” “What would it matter to you?” You sighed, your patience getting to its wits end, “Stop being such a arrogant bitch and tell me whether or not he’s in there” She rolled her eyes, “He hasn’t come here since the time Roosevelt visited. I heard a couple of Spider’s minions talking about a visit to the town court. He may be there” You sighed, “If I don’t find him, I’ll be back tomorrow” You climbed down the pipe and back to the ground, making your way out of the refuge without being seen. You were heading back to the lodging house when you bumped into Race. “Race! What the hell!” “We found Jack” “Yeah, I think I have too”

The two of you ran back to the lodging house, collecting a few of the other newsies before heading to the town court. You burst through the doors, looking around to see Jack. All you could see where tons of men in suits, a few women in bright dresses, and a bunch of people with white curly hair. It looked like a collection of mental people. “Y/N!” Crutchie waved you over to the benches, where the Newsies were all visibly nervous, bouncing their knees and playing with their hands anxiously. You took a deep breath, still scanning the room to see if you could see anyone familiar. “Y/N, relax. You ever been to court before?” You shook your head gently, your hands furiously digging dirt from under your nails from anxiousness. Crutchie noticed and held your hands still. “All they’re gonna do is bring him in for questioning for something he did. He should say he either did it or didn’t do it. Knowing Jack, he more than likely did whatever it is they caught him doing, but he’s gonna find a way to get out of it” “Who are all the people in the benches over the gate?” “That’s called the Jury. They decide whether or not he goes to jail based on his side of the story and Snyder’s side of the story” “Well surely they’re just going to believe Snyder!” “Highly likely, yes. But Jack can probably use his charm to get out of it” “And who’s-“ Three loud knocks cut you off, making you jump slightly. “Please rise for the judge!” You watched everyone around you stand up, and you just looked at them confusedly until you felt an arm haul you up. “Crutchie, let go!” You tried to wriggle out of his grip, only to have him hush you. “You have to stand for the judge” “Who the hell’s that?” You whispered, cautious of everyone staring at you in disgust. “He decides Jack’s overall sentence if he’s found guilty” Crutchie explained, noticing your worried expression, “although they won’t have to, ‘cause Jack will find a way out” He squeezed your hands, reassuring you, but you felt worried and panicked. You saw a man walk in and make his way up to the tallest stand. “What’s everyone’s obsession with wearing weird white hats?” “I don’t know, Y/N…I actually don’t know” Crutchie whispered to you, only to be interrupted by Race. “I heard that’s where they store their daggers incase the criminals try to attack them” Both you and Crutchie stared at him blankly. “You’re mentally disturbed…” Crutchie shook his head, and led you down as they asked everyone to be seated. “Jack Kelly, 17 years of age, caught stealing multiple items from Mr. Jackson’s store including bread, rice, a selection of vegetables, soap, medical kits and a series of feminine supplies” You sunk back into your seat, a red flush spreading across your cheeks as all the boys looked at you. Their attention was brought back when the judge called out again. “Bring the defendant in!” You watched the doors eagerly, waiting for Jack to stroll in, and soon enough he did, two police officers holding his arms. You felt a sense of relief as you saw little to no harm on him, apart from a few bruises on his wrists and arms. Jack spotted the row of Newsies, all with worried faces, and smiled, winking at you all. The two officers sat him down opposite the judge, who you could see would not be easy on him. “Mr. Kelly-“ “Call me Jack. Everyone else does” The judge simply stared at him with anger in his eyes, “Mr. Kelly. You have been caught in the act of robbery of Mr. Jackson’s grocery store on the morning of the 20th of June. How do you plead?” “Well, your honour, I plead guilty” You heard a scatter of murmurs and whispers, and next to you Crutchie put his head in his hands, muttering to himself. “Crutch, what does that mean?” Crutchie sighed, “it means that Jack’s going to jail, no matter what. He could have pleaded not guilty and had a chance of getting out of here, no charges pressed…” “No charges? What’s-“ You were interrupted by the judge once again, “Mr. Kelly. What was your motive for stealing these items?” “Well, your honour, I live in a home with near 80 other boys, all starving themselves to death because of the jobs we have with the worthless pay. I, as the leader of the Manhattan Newsies, have to make sure none of those boys die. So, I stole food, soap and a medical kit so that the boys could eat, wash and heal themselves. Getting caught, well THAT, your honour, was a stupid ass mistake. And I got to be honest, I’m the biggest dumb ass in Manhattan. Hell, the world! Getting caught by Snyder the Spider, rookie mistake. Something I would expect a 10 year old to do. And that your honour, is why I stole the items. To provide for my family” “Mr. Kelly, as touching as your story is, that does not explain why you also stole a supply of feminine products” “Oh those? See, we have a special edition to the family, a very special girl. She’s my-our everything. She gotta have those supplies your honour, she a human, just like any other girl you may know” you saw Jack turn his head to face you and winked, so you smiled back softly, trying to show your thanks. “Why does this girl live with a load of boys? It is, after all, the NewsBOY house, am I correct?” “Correct as ever your honour. Like I said, she’s a very special Newsie. Raised her myself. Best newsie I know for miles” “Is that the girl there?” The judge pointed right at you, noticing your long hair slumped over your shoulders, and you felt everyone’s eyes on you. “Yes, your honour. That’s the girl” Jack smiled proudly at you. The judge hummed to himself and called the police officers over to him, “Take the girl to the Girl’s Correction House. Make sure she no longer has any contact with any members of the Newsboy Lodging House” You gasped and looked towards Jack, who was staring at you with wide eyes. “Y/N! RUN!” Race called out to you. You jumped out of the benches and sprinted for the door, the two police officers hot on your tail. You heard Jack shout behind you, “Boys! Help her!” You ran out of the court building and down the streets of Manhattan. You could hear the police officers and the boys shouting at you but you just kept running. You turned to the left and ran down the alleyway that would lead you to the Brooklyn bridge. You sped across the bridge, dodging all the people and carriages. Luckily, the winding route you took managed to slow the officers down, and you managed to get to Spot before the you were caught. “SPOT! SPOT!!” You called out as you saw Spot in the distance. He turned around, and saw you running frantically towards him. He began running towards you and caught you as you ran into your arms. “Spot! Hide me!” Spot grabbed your hand and took you to the dockyard, hiding you in the abandoned, small office, blocking the door with numerous crates and barrels. “Stay there. I’ll get you once they’re cleared” The officers soon caught up, but Spot managed to convince them that he hadn’t see you, winking at the Manhattan boys to let them know you’re ok. The police officers continued running through Brooklyn, and Spot led the boys to the office you were in. The door opened and a streak of sunlight came in. You held your breath, shrinking into the corner, until you heard Spot call you out. You ran out and fell into Spot’s arms. “Thank you thank you thank you…” you cried, quickly moving to hug the rest of the boys, “I can’t go back” “You ain’t going back, sweetheart” Race hugged you tightly. “What about Jack?” You asked quietly. “I don’t know, Y/N. Once the coppers are out of Brooklyn for good, we’ll take you back home and see where Jack is” “Woah, hold up. What about Jack?” Spot asked, interrupting you. “He got caught by Snyder the Spider, but they took him to caught. Jack’s been taken to the refuge so many times, Snyder just wants to get him in jail for life” Race explained. “Jack? In jail? He ain’t even 18 yet!” “We know, Spot. But like Race said, Snyder wants to put him in for life…” you replied, wiping your tears. “He pleaded not guilty, right?” “Wrong” Crutchie added “What’s eating with him?!” “I don’t know. Come on boys, let’s get her home” Crutchie nodded back towards Manhattan, smiling gratefully at Spot. “Thank you, Spot. Really, thank you” “No problem, sweetheart. Stay outta trouble” You smiled and began walking back with the Manhattan boys, being cautious not to get caught by the officers as you crossed the bridge. As you were walking back towards the lodging house, you split from the group. “You guys go check on Jack, they’re probably still in Brooklyn” “Please be careful, Y/N” Crutchie held your hand momentarily before joining the rest of the group. You were walking back to the lodging house, the sun setting in the distance, and you couldn’t help but feel anxious about Jack. Yes, he raised you and yes, he was your brother, but there was something about him that made your heart melt. And not in the sibling way. It was the way he treated the younger boys with such a teasing yet caring manner. It was the way he gave all the love in the world to the stray animals the two of you would pass when selling. It was the way he drew. My god, that boy could draw. You were smiling to yourself as you approached the door of the lodging house. “I’m home!” You were expecting to hear the rumble of little feet run towards you, as you were the favourite of the younger ones. Instead, all you heard was silence. “Hello? Sammy? Buddy? Teddy?! Come on guys! Not funny!” Silence. “What the-“ You were interrupted as you were grabbed behind from two rough arms. You tried to squirm out of them, but they were too strong. “Let go of me!” You screamed, hoping any newsie - hell, anyone - would hear you. “You’re going…to the…correction centre!” He grunted, keeping a tight grip on you as he led you out of the lodging house and out to the streets. The man led you to the correction house, throwing you through the threshold carelessly, grazing your legs and arms on the wooden floor. You hissed in pain, but pushed backwards towards the wall, only to back into a figure. “Welcome back, Y/N”

“Mr. Kelly, on account of your reasonings, I will not sentence you to jail…” the judge concluded, Jack smirking at Snyder who looked more defeated than angry, “However, what you did remains a crime and I will fine you the amount you owe Mr. Jackson, which I believe is $2” “Thank you, your honour. I’ll try stop being a dumbass from now on” Jack retorted, lifting his hat slightly. “Mr. Kelly, you’re free to go. Court dismissed.” Jack turned around smugly, keeping eye contact with Snyder as he joined the boys, all who were jumping and congratulating Jack. “Boys! Boys! Where’s Y/N?” Jack asked concerned, noticing you were not with them. “Went back to the lodging house” Crutchie explained. “You outran them?” “She ran to Brooklyn. Spot helped” “She’s not hurt?” “She’s fine, Jack. Let’s get Home” Race piped up.

“Welcome back, Y/N” “Get the hell away from me” you backed away, scuttling up from the floor and bolting towards the door, only to be grabbed by the officer. He turned you round to face the warden. “Y/N, you know running won’t get you anywhere…” You spat in her face, kicking the man behind you to try and run free but it was useless, and instead the warden slapped you. Hard. You fell to the floor instantly, your eyes welling up with the pain she inflicted on you. You knew this was the only the beginning. “I suggest you get upstairs. You know where the isolation cupboard is” “No. No please! Please!” “Officer, would you please escort her up the stairs and the third door on the left. Thank you” He dragged you up the stairs as you kicked and wailed. You were in hell. Again.

The boys walked in, all stopping at the sound of silence. “What the-“ Race began, only to be hushed by Jack who was listening intently. He heard faint shouts from upstairs. The boys ran upstairs, with the exception of Crutchie who tried his best to haul himself up the stairs at the same pace. The door was barricaded with chairs and tables. Jack took no time to claw his way to the door, throwing barrels and chairs behind him, the boys dodging whatever was aimed at them. Jack burst through the door, scanning the room to make sure everyone’s alright, “is everyone okay?! Everyone here?” “Jacky! Jacky!” Teddy, the youngest in the house, ran towards Jack, jumping into his arms. “Teddy bear, what happened?” “A big man in a blue suit came in and locked us all in here. He even threw Sammy from halfway down the corridor!” “That son of a-“ “Jacky! I heard Y/N scream?” “Wait, what?” Race asked from behind Jack, moving to stand next to them both. “He must of hurt her real bad…” “Teddy, she’s not here?” “No…” Jack looked at the boys behind him, and then back at Teddy. He held him tighter and kissed the top of his head. “She’s coming back right, Jacky?” “I’ll get her back, Teddy. Don’t worry”, Jack set Teddy down and turned to Race, “come on…” Jack and Race hurried down the stairs and ran through the streets to get to the girl’s correction house. It was late at night, so they stealthily crept through the door and up the stairs, shouting your name in hushed tones. A small girl peeked around the door, and gasped when she saw the two boys. “Shhhh. We ain’t here to hurt you. Don’t worry” Jack knelt down to the small girl, a finger to his lips. He smiled at her, “what’s your name?” “Eden” “That’s a beautiful name. You live here?” She nodded, coming out from her hiding spot a bit more, “Why are you hiding, Eden?” “The warden. She’s scary” “Why?” “She likes to hurt us…” Jack shook his head, “I’m sorry…I’m really sorry. I promise, I will do something to help you. And every girl in here. Ok?” “Okay…” “I need you to help me first, though. Do you know a girl called Y/N?” “Yes!” She shouted, Jack having to hush her again, Race looking out for the warden. “She looked after us all when she was last here!” “Wait, she’s been here before?” “Since she was a baby. Apparently her mummy didn’t want a baby” “How come she left?” “Y/N managed to escape one day. She tried to take me and a few others with her but…she fell and-“ “Broke her ankle. I know. Listen, Eden, Y/N is my very, very special friend, and I’m here to take her home” “She’s in the isolation cupboard…” “Where’s that?” “Down the corridor, the door next to the window” “Thank you, Eden” Jack smiled, standing up, “Race, stay with her and watch out for the warden. Make some sort of noise if you see her” Jack quietly but quickly made his way to the door. He couldn’t see a door, just a small, square cupboard. He hesitantly opened the door and to his surprise, there you were. You were crouched in a small space, your knees forced up to your chest. Jack spent no time helping you out, feeling you tense and flinch under his touch. Jack noticed the shards of glass in your skin, blood dripping on the floor. “Jack?” “Shh. I’m here now…” “Warden. She’ll find you and-“ “Y/N, can you stand?” “I-I don’t think so…” “Wrap your arms around me, and-“ Jack’s head snapped round when he heard a whistle, spotting a tall woman to his right. “Run!” You heard Eden shout, feeling Jack stand up and lift you with ease, running down the stairs, noticing Race behind the two of you. Jack ran as fast as he could with you in his arms, and luckily it was enough to lose the warden. Jack and Race walked the rest of the way home, watching you carefully incase you fell asleep. “Y/N, why didn’t you tell us that you came from the correction house?” “It’s a past that I tried to forget” you winced, the glass still lodged in your skin. “You can tell us anything, Y/N, you know that!” Race added, walking beside you. “I know…I know” You snuggled further into Jack’s chest, feeling his grip tighten on you. You got back into the lodging house and heard the group of Newsies ask Jack what happened and why you looked sick. “BOYS! MOVE! OUTTA THE WAY!” Race boomed, making a pathway for Jack to get to the closest bunk. He placed you down and ordered all the Newsies to grab extra blankets, Crutchie handing him bundles of towels and some hot water. “Race, get the rest of the boys out, I don’t want them to see this.” The rest of the Newsies left, leaving only Jack and Crutchie with you. “Y/N, princess, it’s gonna hurt. I’m-I’m so sorry” You looked at Jack sorrowfully, and smiled weakly. You felt Jack lift up your clothes to expose your side and began pulling the glass out from your side, arms and legs. From out the door, Race was pacing, wincing at every scream he heard from inside the dorm. Eventually, after 20 minutes, it stopped and all was silent. Crutchie came out and told Race that you had passed out, but you were not glass free and patched up. You slept for the next six days, the boys all watching you carefully. Crutchie would change your bandages, Race would manage your temperature and Teddy would read you the stories he got from the nuns each week, giving you his teddy bear to make sure you were not alone while they were all out selling. When you were finally up and able to walk around comfortably, the boys let you go up to the penthouse to see Jack. He hadn’t wanted to see you in so much pain so he stayed away from you, no matter how hard he found it. Crutchie didn’t want you getting sick, again, so he gave you numerous shirts to put on, as well as his old coat. You made your way up the ladder and clambered painfully up to the top, noticing Jack leaning against the rails, his hands to his mouth, clearly crying. “Crying ain’t gonna do anything, Jacky” you smiled, his head whipping round to see you. “Y/N! What are you doing up here! You’ll get sick!” “You don’t think Crutchie already thought of that?” Jack sighed and opened his arms as you ran to him, hugging him tightly. “God, I’ve missed you” You laughed, “how come you got outta going to jail?” “Oh,” Jack pulled away, keeping your hands in his, “The judge wasn’t heartless, so took pity on me. Got away with a fine of $2” “$2?! Jesus, Jacky! That’s like everyone’s two months earnings combined! He shoulda met Teddy, he woulda let ya leave without anything but your pride” Jack chuckled, “I love you” You stepped back, shocked, “What?” “Shit.” “What did you just say?” “I love ya. I mean…it had to come out sometime, didn’t it. Shit I’ve fucked up haven’t I?” “No, no Jack…I um. I actually kinda…well…you see, I like you too…” Jack stared at you in shock and you just laughed nervously. “Wha-“ You were cut off by Jack grabbing you by the waist, pulling you close towards him and kissing you deeply. It was gentle, but needy, like he had wanted to do it for years. He pulled away, leaning his forehead on yours, panting but smiling. “I’m so lucky you exist” “I’m so lucky you saved me from hell. Twice” Jack laughed with you, “Princess, I’d do that any day” You pulled him close to your lips once more whispering, “you dumbass” before you kissed him once more.

#jack kelly x reader #jack kelly #newsies #newsies oneshot #jeremy x reader #jeremy jordan #race x reader #ben x reader #racetrack higgins #crutchie x reader #crutchie

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frejahertziswritingthistime · 7 years

Text

An Education Chapter 5

A/N: I’m so happy with all the positive response I’m getting for this series! I’m so in love with this story, and all of your comments, replies, reblogs and likes means the world to me. Again, a enormous huge to @redeyedvixen, who’s truly an amazing friend – even when I send her snaps of me singing a lullaby, which was meant for my boyfriend. I love you! And a big shout-out to my lovely @trustnobodyshootfirst, who’s been a loyal follower of all of my stories; your comments really mean the world to me!

Remember, I always say yes to requests and feedback feeds the writer!

MOBILE MASTERLIST

DESKTOP MASTERLIST

Missed something?

An education masterlist

Summary: You’ve had a crush on Dean for a few years, and during a drunken night, you accidentally let it slip that you have a crush on a person, Dean knows. Dean sets out to figure out on who it is.

Pairings: Dean x reader

Warnings. Language, mentions of wounds and blood, angsty angst (I’m so sorry)

Chapter 5 Overheard conversations part two

June

I was rudely awakened by a loud laugh booming from behind me. I cracked my left eye open and my head slowly woke up – I was in a tangle of limbs, Dean’s long legs and arms covering every inch of me. I stretched my neck a little and saw Dean slowly waking up as well – his hair sticking out in odd angles, a few tufts standing straight up. I giggled. “Get lost, Sam. 5 more minutes.” He grumbled, still with closed eyes, and Sam laughed again. I realized my arm was asleep, and I tried to pull it out from under Dean (how did it even get there?), but he was not having it – he groaned and one of his arms tightened the grip on me. “Dude, my arm is asleep. It’ll fall off, if you keep your big body on it.” He still didn’t open his eyes, but thankfully rolled off my arm, and I pulled it to me. I rolled over and looked at Sam, who was staring at us with the biggest shit-eating grin, I had ever seen. “What?” I grumbled, a little cranky about the fact that I had to indulge in conversation before my coffee. “What… Uhm… Did I miss something last night, Y/N?” Sam said with that goddamn grin plastered on his face. “I was cold.” I grumbled angrily, trying to sit up, which resulted in me tilting straight out of the bed – Dean was massive, and I had (somehow) slept in barely an inch of the bed. I groaned as my ass hit the hard motel-floor, and I glared at Sam. “Stop that.” He mashed his lips together. “I didn’t do anything.” He said with barely concealed laughter. I glared harder at him. “I could hear practically hear you mind-laughing.” I grumbled as I stood up, brushing my butt off from whatever filth was on the carpet. “I’m gonna change. Someone better get me coffee!” I said loudly, as I dashed into the bathroom with my duffel-bag slung over my shoulder.

Once inside the bathroom with the door locked, I exhaled hard. My head was swimming a bit, as I thought back to the night – I had slept next to Dean friggin’ Winchester, cuddling with him, and it was the best goddamn sleep I’ve ever had. Damn. We definitely crossed a boundary last night. We might be close, but we’ve never been that close, and I had to admit it to myself: I was hopelessly in love with Dean Winchester. Completely head-over-heels in love with that man – the man, who was my best friend and currently under the impression I was crushing on some no-name hunter. I groaned in annoyance; why on Chuck’s green earth had I decided it was a good idea to lie to him? Well, a small voice in the back of my head said, you didn’t really lie, just omitted a part of the truth. That’s right. He jumped to conclusions, I just didn’t correct those conclusions.

I turned on the shower, quickly stripping down as steam filled the small bathroom, and stepped under the hot water, a small moan escaping my lips. Thank god for the water-pressure being good. I quickly lathered my body with the no-descript soap, I had bought for travels, and washed my body down – I don’t know why, but I always feel dirty in motels. Besides, I had been very warm during the night, and a little sweat had been in a thin sheen on my body, when I woke up. I quickly washed my hair, savoring the feeling of the hot water against my scalp, and I grudgingly turned the water off and stepped out. Thoughts of Dean swirled in my mind. It wasn’t the first time, I had been cold in a motel-room, but normally he would just give me the best or warmest blanket, and call it a night – I had no idea, what drove him to ask me to… Well, cuddle. As I dried my hair with the tiny towel provided by the motel, I remembered that he’d said something right before I drifted off to sleep. I couldn’t remember what he said, and it drove me mad – my brain hurt, as I tried my hardest to remember, but nothing came up. It was fuzzy. I did remember the feeling of his lips on my forehead, warm and soft, and a slight shiver ran through me – that was definitely new. I ran on autopilot as I got dressed, swiped some mascara and concealer on (I looked like death) and sighed. That’s the best I could do.

As I stepped out of the bathroom, a cup of coffee was shoved in my face by a very large hand. I took it and looked up at Sam, who still grinned like a maniac. “Thanks.” I grumbled, and I went to the table in the middle of the room, where Dean already sat, bleary-eyed and with his hair still sticking out at odd angles. He smiled a sleepy smile at me and turned his eyes towards the case-file again. “Alright, lovebirds, I’m taking a shower. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Sam said happily. I glared at him until he closed the bathroom door, and I heard the “click” of the lock. I glanced at Dean. “I can feel your eyes on me, y’know.” He mumbled and looked up at me, a teasing glint in his eyes. I sighed. “Listen…” He held a hand up to stop me, and I clamped my mouth shut. “I know, you’re in love with someone, so don’t worry. It didn’t mean anything.” He barked. Was he… Angry? I scanned his face, and saw the small jaw-clench, that meant his annoyance was at its peak. I nodded slowly. “Okay, well… Fine then.” I said defeatedly. I wasn’t the one to bring it up if he didn’t want to talk about it. He groaned and rolled his eyes, then looked at me harshly. “Y/N, I’m not really in the mood for this, okay? Don’t play the pissy-card. You were cold, I was warm, it was a great balance, okay? Tell your boyfriend that it didn’t mean anything, hell, don’t tell him it even happened, if that makes it better.” He scowled. Wow, okay, I had not expected that. “Uhm… I just wanted to thank you for keeping me warm, Dean.” I said sadly – of course, I had intended to ask what the hell he had whispered last night, and why he had kissed my forehead, but that wasn’t happening now. His eyes softened a bit. “You’re welcome.” He grumbled.

We sat in silence, him staring at the case-file, not really reading it (his eyes didn’t move at all, I noticed) and me drinking my coffee. Sam came out of the bathroom and immediately felt the shift in the air. “What’s going on, guys?” He said with furrowed brows. Dean groaned. “Nothing, Sam. You better not have used up all the hot water.” He quipped as he made his way to the bathroom, slamming the door after him. Sam turned slowly on his heel and looked at me with confusion shining from his face. “What the hell was that about?” He asked me. I threw my hands up in frustration, before pulling my boots towards me, sliding my feet into them and zipping up the sides. “I honestly have no idea. I cam out of the bathroom, and he just… he was angry, Sam. I have no idea why.” I said with a loud huff. Sam rolled his eyes. “Come on, Y/N, you’ve got to be kidding me. You don’t..?” He grunted. “You two are literal kids.” He scolded as he threw his shoes on and grabbed his jacket. “We’ll wait for him to go, but I think I’ve figured out what’s going on.” He said sourly. I looked expectantly up at him. “I think we’re dealing with a demon. Angel-wards on bodies? It seems as though the demon is trying to protect something.” He said as he sat down across the table. I furrowed my brows. “Then what’s with the blood-draining and body-dumping?” I asked. He shrugged. “Blood-draining could be to throw us off his scent. I don’t know, but it’s only been one body, that’s been found, Y/N. The others are still missing.” He said puzzled. “I don’t know why, though.” My head snapped towards the bathroom door, as it opened, and Dean stomped out. “Me neither. Let’s go figure it out.” I asserted as I stood up.

It had been a very, very bad idea to go figure it out. I was currently tied up to a metal-bar somewhere in a barn, and I could hear Dean struggling somewhere outside, and Sam’s loud grunts as they hacked and slashed at the minions surrounding the place.

We had found the barn, when we checked around the town, and we had decided to go straight for it – it seemed as if there was only one demon to deal with, when taking the time of the disappearances into account. We had stacked the car with demon-be-gone-stuff and set off to the outskirts of the town. We had moved quietly along the field, trying to scout the place out, and I had stupidly told the boys we should split up and meet behind the barn, so we could check a bigger area. They had stupidly agreed, and we had all gone our merry way – until a demon had grabbed a hold of me from behind, almost snapping my arms like twigs, and had tugged me into the barn, where he had strung me up like a marionette.

And that’s where I currently was: strung up, in an old, smelly barn, with a demon grinning madly at me, while the boys were outside fighting. If there was one thing I had learned, it was to keep the bad guys talking for as long as possible, so that’s what I did. “How many are you?” I grunted, my voice slightly constricted by the leather-belt around my throat. The demon grinned. “Too many for you.” He simply stated, moving a step closer to me. I rolled my eyes – they always had to be so cryptic. “And you kidnapped girls, marked them up – why?” I asked. I tried to move my hands around, see if I could grab a hold of the rope’s end, but to no avail. Damn it. “We needed them.” He said. Another step closer. My heart sped up – I heard a yelp of pain from outside. “No shit, but what for?” I asked through clenched teeth – it worried me, how close he suddenly was. “We needed them for safe-keeping.” He stated. “Safe-keeping?” I wondered out loud, my predicament forgotten for a split second. He nodded. “Safe… Oh, no. You’re kidding me.” I suddenly realized what he meant – the markings, the sigils, the placement of them “safe-keeping”; they had tried to breed. “Oh, yes…” He hissed. I could feel his breath on my face and I gagged slightly. “And then you came… A little gift for us.” He snarled. “I’m going to have so much fun with you, little one…” A shine of silver caught my eye. Shit. “Aw, buy a girl dinner first.” I hissed. He growled and played with the knife between his fingers. “You talk too much.” He simply said, before running the sharp blade across my stomach. I screamed in pain. My shirt got cut in half, dangling uselessly across my lower abdomen, blood coloring the white shirt red. The demon grinned again. I gasped for air. “A name of my torturer would be great.” I hissed. He was not going to kill me – at least not right now – and I used the moment to sass him a bit. It was probably a stupid idea, but I did it nonetheless – his eyes flared, and a grunt and a loud bang came from behind me; someone had been thrown against the siding of the barn. “Berith.” He simply stated. I rolled my eyes. “Seriously? One of the 72 demons of Solomon is torturing me right now?” He grinned wider. Then the breeding made sense. “The old demons need new blood?” I asked, my breathing coming out in bursts. He laughed. “Maybe.” He let the blade slide down my arm, and I screamed again – I thought I hear my name, but the pain of the knife boring into my skin took my focus away. “I’m going to have so much fun…” He snarled and made a quick, but deep cut in my stomach. I howled in pain, my body trying to curl in on itself, but I was tied by my hands hand feet, so it was useless. He continued his torture, my shirt becoming redder and redder by the second, and my voice was hoarse from screaming, until four loud crashes sounded against the door – Dean and Sam, I thought quietly, my eyes closing in gratitude. But the demon must have thought the same – with less gratitude – as he licked his fingers clean of my blood and stared at me. “Until next time, my sweet.” He grinned – and then, he stabbed the knife into the side of my ribs - all the way to the hilt - and pulled it out again in one, swift motion, before smoking out of the meat-suit he was currently wearing. I couldn’t even scream in pain. My breath had been knocked out of me, and I saw black spots appearing in front of my eyes. I think I’m dying, I thought to myself, it has been a good run. I closed my eyes, as a final crash came from the door, and the sound of splintering wood reached my ears. Dean’s voice was panicked. “SAM! SAM, GET IN HERE!” He shouted for his brother, as his shaking hands untied me from the bar, I had been hoisted up on, and he caught me around the waist, as my body fell limply into his arms – I had no control over my body anymore, and I could barely focus on Dean’s face hovering above me. “Dean… She’s...” Sam’s voice sounded fuzzy, as if he was talking with a mouth fool of wool. “I KNOW, SAM! Please, get the car. Sam, GO! He yelled. I could feel the ropes on my feet loosen, and I tried to smile. “Y/N, Y/N, stay with me, okay? Come on, you’ll be fine, baby, I promise.” His voice was shaking and could feel something wet and warm dripping down on my face, as he scooped me up and started half-walking, half-running with me in his arms, and I briefly wondered if it was blood or tears. I couldn’t see anything anymore, everything was blurry. It was cold. I heard a car racing towards us and then a door being slammed open – I felt my body jostle a bit, and then – leather and Dean’s warm hand was on my face and the other was on my ribs, trying to still the ebb of blood. “Baby, please, don’t do this. Don’t do this, I need you here.” His voice was fading, and I didn’t feel cold anymore – I didn’t feel anything, in fact, other than the continuous drips of warm wetness on my face. I forced my eyes open, and I found a pair of green eyes in the middle of all the blackening blurriness, and I heard Dean’s voice. “Please… Y/N, please, I love you.”

Well, that’s unexpected, a small voice in the back of my head said, before everything went black.

CHAPTER 6

TAG LIST: @killerunicorn3, @hobby27, @trustnobodyshootfirst, @mypage-myfandoms

FOREVERLIST: @redeyedvixen, @supernaturalmagicfolk

(i love you all!)

#spn #spn fanfic #spn family #spn fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural family #dean x reader #reader x dean #reader insert #x reader #Dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester

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