#i can hunt through our conversations some other time

[marlynnofmany]

Not Special, Part Two

(Part One is here)

Oscar Tennyson grabbed his purchases and hurried after the rest of his crew. As usual, they were walking quickly on their longer legs and bellowing for him to keep up. The teeth-and-scales Mighty had no patience for human weaknesses. Of which there were many.

But, as Oscar had just learned, there were some strengths as well. And he couldn’t wait to show them.

He scampered onboard before the door shut, wondering if they would actually leave without him if he dawdled too long. Probably not — who would handle their finances and hunting permits? They’d have to hire someone else, because they certainly didn’t want to do it themselves. But he didn’t want to test that.

He had much better things to test. While the stark metal walls vibrated with the engine’s revs, Oscar wove between scaled biceps and tails to his own quarters. He pressed the panel by the door, which was oversized and cracked like all of them on this ship. The Mighty were not fans of fiddly little buttons or keys. Not when they could have panels big enough to punch, which only broke sometimes.

When Oscar stepped through and closed the door behind him, he felt immediately relieved. This was his private space to decorate as he chose, without worrying that someone would take things down or make fun of him. Ship rules were clear about personal quarters. Oscar’s fake orchids and real cactus made the room homey, along with more posters than the walls could hold. They spilled onto the ceiling, lining it with nature scenes from Earth, sports figures he admired, media announcements, and a good number of fluffy kittens. This was the one spot on the ship where he could feel comfortable, and he was making the most of it.

The bag of refueling station supplies crinkled as he set it on his small table to remove the contents. A high-end store might have had Waterwill bags that evaporated after a day, but this place used regular old plastic. Inside were food cubes, bottled water, and the purchase he was most excited about: six cans of very weak caffeine.

He scanned the label. It was just like the other human had said. Tall cans in dramatic colors, but not much of substance inside. At least, not as far as the average human was concerned.

Oscar couldn’t wait until dinner time.

Before then, he had a permit to submit and several other things to check. The ship should be on the way to Argosha, which was notorious for welcoming outsiders in to hunt the Dagger Birds that were giving everyone so much trouble, but he had better get their paperwork in order anyway.

He grabbed his tablet and left his safe haven, heading back into the public parts of the ship where he could face taunts from any direction. Really, these guys were just like his cousins. At least it was familiar.

Fending off tiresome conversation — “How’s the weather down there?” “Why don’t you ask your mother?” —he reached the bridge and found a corner to stand in. The captain and the pilot were arguing about where to land when they reached Argosha.

“The main site will have more people to admire our ship!”

“The new one is closer to the hunting grounds!”

“Dagger Birds are overrunning the place; everywhere is a hunting ground!”

“Do you want to pay the damages for shooting a building instead of a bird? We can take it all out of your pay, if you want!”

“Fine, but if we land on some overgrown hedge and the ship is scratched, you get to pay for that!”

“Fine!”

The pair of them stopped yelling and sat back in their seats as if nothing at all was the matter, because it wasn’t. Polite disagreements were always held at that volume.

In the brief lull while the pilot manipulated the controls with more force than a lesser console could withstand, Oscar spoke up. “I’d like to come too.”

Both dinosaurian heads turned to stare at him in surprise. “Why?” the captain demanded. “One kick from a bird, and you’re useless to us.”

“Thanks,” Oscar said flatly. “I’ll keep out of the way. I want to take photos of your fighting prowess; I should be able to sell them.”

Both of the Mighty preened at that, as he’d known they would. Ego was big here. The captain agreed, and Oscar didn’t let slip any hints of his secret plan. He just finished working on his tablet, then retreated to his quarters to practice Dagger Bird mating calls.

The air on Argosha was breathable but hot, at least this part of it. Oscar was ready with his Tool in his pocket. (He’d gotten out of the habit of calling it a phone, since the Mighty were right in that it did a near-infinite number of things.) (He still smirked quietly at the potential innuendo, but it was a conversation he didn’t really want to have with giant dinosaur aliens, so he kept that to himself.)

“This way,” announced the captain, pointing in what looked like an arbitrary direction into the wilderness. Whooping with the alien equivalent of testosterone, the crew raised their blasters and tromped off the landing pad with Oscar following close behind.

True to his word, he did take some pictures as he went. But he was waiting for his moment.

It didn’t take long to come. The shouting scared off all the wildlife, then the Mighty found a boulder to crouch behind and wait for the creatures to come back. They played a silent counting game to see who was best at guessing when they’d spot something worth killing.

Distant footsteps on leaves made them smack each other in excitement, but nothing appeared between the trees.

Now or never, Oscar thought. Knowing better than to startled his crewmates, he whispered, “Here, let me.” Then he took a deep breath and let loose with his best imitation of a Dagger Bird seeking a mate. “Woarrrrrrk!”

While the Mighty shushed him and wondered what he was doing and started to figure it out, an answering woarrk sounded from nearby.

Then another, then, three.

Oscar wondered if he’d overplayed his hand.

No less than five large and eager Dagger Birds crashed through the undergrowth at once, croaking and flapping, taking offense at each other’s presence. The Mighty all roared and leapt out, firing in every direction.

Oscar dashed for a tree he’d been eyeing, the one with lots of branches, and didn’t stop climbing until he was out of beak-stabbing range. He held tight to the trunk, catching his breath and watching the chaos. Belatedly, he remembered to take out his Tool and snap some photos.

This was actually a good angle. He got a great shot of the captain aiming down the throat of a wide-open beak, then another a split second later when the beak snapped shut inches from his head. Another of the engineer shooting one from beneath. Two of the pilot tackling the largest bird and sinking teeth into the back of its neck where it couldn’t reach to stab.

Other species did their trophy hunting from a distance. The Mighty liked the fight as much as the kill. Their blasters were set on a deliberately low setting, and their teeth were sharp.

Safe up in his tree, Oscar grimaced at how bloody things were getting down below. He yelled another bird call to distract the one about to spear the crewmate who’d been knocked to the ground, and he got a cheerful “Nice save by the little guy!” which was as close to a thank you as he was going to get. The crewmate scrambled up and bit off a chunk while the bird was distracted. A couple of the crew looked like they were bleeding their own blood, but most of it was coming from the Dagger Birds, which were just as stubborn as the stories had said. Not one of them ran off. The last to die fell on top of somebody, which just added laughter from the rest of the crew to the triumphant cheers.

Oscar took a picture of the bird being dragged off his disgraced crewmate. That photo he wouldn’t sell, but would keep as minor blackmail if he ever needed it. Sticking it up on the wall to remind everyone of this moment could be a valuable strategic move.

“We are the MIGHTY!” bellowed the captain, and the whole crew joined in with a deep-voiced cheer. Oscar climbed down to more approval than he’d gotten in the last month.

“Good work by our human here! Who knew you could do that?”

“That’s sure an efficient way to hunt!”

“We should bring you out every time. That was great.”

Oscar took the praise with pride, not bothering with modesty. That was just another word for weakness as far as these guys were concerned.

He managed to dodge when one of them made to slap him on the back with a large bloodstained hand, which just made them laugh more. Luckily the captain directed everybody to gather their kills for dragging back to the ship, rather than chasing the human and messing up his clothes.

Oscar took a position on the lowest branch of his tree, taking a couple more photos as the victorious hunters figured out how to get it all home. If anyone had asked Oscar, which they never would, he’d have suggested going back for a hovercart, or taking them one at a time. But of course they did neither.

Definitely the type to insist on carrying all the groceries in at once, Oscar thought as his crewmates strained to drag the giant carcasses through the undergrowth. He hopped down and kept pace out to the side where there was no blood on the leaves.

They finally made it back to the ship, doing nothing to clean up the smears of blood they left on the landing pad. Oscar darted off to his quarters as soon as the door opened. The rest of them could handle getting the birds into cryo storage, or chopped up right away, whichever they saw fit to do. The lowest-ranking one without significant injuries would be in charge of clearing the blood from the hallways, but only after they’d all taken a walk through the water-and-air blast chamber that passed for a shower here. It had always reminded Oscar of a car wash.

He kept to himself until dinner, sorting his photos while everyone else dealt with the catch and the mess and the injuries. The mechanical medsystem on this ship was just as efficient as the shower. They’d all be in decent shape by mealtime.

And mealtime after a successful hunt was also drinking time.

Oscar usually ate in his room, wanting nothing to do with the raucous meat-tearing and drunkenness. But today was different, because he’d learned something valuable about the liquid they were getting drunk off.

Oscar considered the cans he’d bought, then decided it would have more of an impact if he just took one of the communal supply. So instead he grabbed his new food cubes and a premade tin of spaghetti from his mini-cryo, and followed the sound of laughter.

They were already a little drunk when he got there. Sprawled across chairs with a table full of meat slabs spilling over the edges of the plates. And as expected, there were tall purple cans everywhere.

“Heyyyy, it’s the little guy! Let’s hear it for the human with the surprise talent! Maybe you’re not useless after all!”

“Thanks,” Oscar said as they pounded fists against anything in reach as a form of applause. He leaned against the open doorway and shuffled his belongings so he could get a fork in a meatball without setting down the food cubes. “That was pretty easy where I’m from. You guys really can’t do that?” He popped the meatball into his mouth, casual as you please.

The Mighty of course, thought this was funny, and took it in stride. More gulps from their drinks, more savage mouthfuls of food, and a few questions about the surely-excellent photos he’d gotten, which would make them all look amazing.

Oscar said he’d share the best ones. These would make fine decorations in their own quarters, and would probably be appreciated by the right paying audience.

Then came the moment he’d been waiting for. The captain raised his drink in another cheer, and somebody noticed that the human was the only one without a can in his hand.

“Get the human a warrior’s drink!”

“Bet you he passes out after one sip.”

“Nah, he can take at least two.”

Oscar smiled quietly. If they’d been paying attention, they might have changed their bets at that smile. He set his food down in the hallway to free his hands. When one muscular, taloned arm offered him a can of their most potent intoxicant, he took it. Oh so casually.

Then he whipped his head back and chugged the whole thing.

“Oh! Human’s gonna die!”

“I’m not cleaning up the puke!”

“What the supernova! There are better ways to go than that!”

“Somebody drag him to medical so we don’t have to find somebody else to do the boring stuff.”

“Yeah, he was just getting interesting.”

Oscar ignored all of them, giving the empty can a thoughtful look. It felt like the same thin aluminum he remembered from Earth. And if there was anything his cousins had taught him, it was the proper way to dispose of a beer can.

He dug his fingertips in and crushed it against his forehead. Then while the room reacted to that, he wiped off the drips and threw the can across the room. When it went into the trash on the first try, he was internally very glad, but he didn’t let it show. Instead he picked up his food and resumed eating. “What’s the big deal?” he said. “Is that what you guys have been getting drunk off? How quaint.”

“How in all the black holes—”

“No, he’s gonna fall over any second; just watch.”

“Quaint, that’s hilarious.”

“He’s totally bluffing. Just wait and see.”

Oscar was enjoying being the center of the crew’s attention today. He made a show of sweeping his eyes across the various cans in the room. “None of you has finished a can yet, I see. Was that supposed to be strong?”

There was widespread laughing and elbowing of each other, most of them still clearly convinced that the silly little human was going to throw up and die any second now.

So Oscar set down his food, walked over to the table, and chugged a second one. It was a bit more liquid than his stomach was really happy with, but that was a small price to pay for the uproar that followed.

They exclaimed; they renewed their bets; they drank from their own cans; they got visibly drunker and abandoned their bets.

Oscar leaned against the doorframe, eating spaghetti and food cubes.

After one particularly unsteady crewmate tripped onto the table full of meat, and someone pointed out that the human wasn’t wobbling at all, Oscar said, “You guys don’t know much about my species, do you? Half of what I eat would liquify your insides.” He held up a food cube, eyeing the different colored specks of all the ingredients that made it balanced for an omnivorous digestive system. He laughed. “You guys just eat meat. How boring!”

They only got drunker after that. Oscar was pretty sure that the nearest two wanted to pat him on the back, but the floor was moving too much for them to make it all the way to the doorway. Somebody offered him a raw slab of Dagger Bird. He turned it down with casual scorn.

“Nah, meat isn’t worth eating unless it’s passed through fire. That’s weakling meat you’ve got there. Get back to me when it’s cooked brown.”

They loved that. The party was an epic one, only winding down when most of the crew was too drunk to reach more drinks. Oscar demonstrated his steadiness by picking through the mess to drop his food containers in the trash, then move back to the door.

“Well, it’s been fun,” he said. “I’ll send in the med-drone to make sure nobody’s going to wake up dead. Let me know if you want to get your tails handed to you by any more Dagger Birds. I’ll call ‘em in close for you again.”

He got groggy approval to that.

Oscar left with a smile on his face, and a mild amount of caffeine in his blood. Maybe after stopping by the medcenter, he’d use that energy on some exercise. Thoughts of the run to the hunting grounds, and the way his crewmates had paced themselves, suggested that it wouldn’t take much practice for him to out-endurance the Mighty on the VR treadmill.

I wonder what else I can do?

~~~~~~~~~

By popular request, this is the sequel to the story I posted last week, which is part of the ongoing series of backstory for the main character in this book. (It started that way, at any rate, and turned into a sprawling series in its own right. Fun stuff.)

Patreon opens the day after tomorrow, on May 1st! There's a free tier and everything if you want to keep up without strings attached! And you can even request more delightful nonsense like this.

Onward!

[mochatsin]

WHEN THE BROTHERS MEET MC’S EX

It’s a fact that you’ve had a previous relationship before you went to Devildom, but due to the nature of the circumstances it didn’t end so well. You never told any of the brothers what really happened until now, so how will they react with this newfound information? Especially when they end up bumping into your ex?

The ex became crazier than I ORIGINALLY intended when I wrote for some of the brothers to make the scenarios unique from each other… that also means some of the break ups and behaviors of the ex are different for each brother… forgive me “T-T !!!

Has some implied abuse but not outright said. Also some mentions of cheating (but not for the brothers dear god). Pls skip if it's not your cup of tea!! As always, thank you for reading.

------------

Lucifer

He knows about the fact you had a previous lover before, but it was not in his nature to pry. Hearing Asmo wonder out loud “aren’t you a little curious what happened in their previous relationship though?” Lucifer doesn’t want to admit that he does want to know. But it’s your story to tell after all.

Lucifer is confident in his looks and how he presents himself. He’s well-mannered, he’s intelligent, and he’s the Avatar of Pride so what could you have seen in anyone other than– okay, maybe Lucifer may be too curious for his own good. But his Pride would not allow him to be vocal about it. 

There was a time that you came home from RAD seemingly upset and shaken up. He helps you relax enough until you are calm enough to at least tell him what was wrong. You tell him that your ex has been bothering you lately, trying to get your attention for god knows what reason. 

This opens up the conversation Lucifer was waiting for, but it’s not exactly what he was expecting. You told him how you had to break the relationship because your ex became too manipulative and nitpicked every single thing that you did. It became too toxic.

Hearing this made Lucifer think back to all his actions towards his brothers and to you, where he demands everything to the last detail. He never wanted you to feel suffocated around him, he didn’t want to seem too controlling.

The last thing Lucifer wants for himself to remind you of your ex. He wants to practice healthy communications with you, where you can give him a sign if he’s getting too much or something is starting to trigger you. Your comfort is more important right now, and he’d hate to be the cause of your tears. 

He’s tempted to go through your profile case to find the name of your ex and hunt him down personally. Maybe chain him up in the dungeons for days to be Lucifer’s new stress relief outlet until they beg for mercy. But he won’t because it’s your personal life and he doesn’t want to interfere.

When you two bump into your ex while you were out together, his eyes narrowed at the sight of this pathetic human that made his precious MC’s life awful. ‘I want to show them what living hell really feels like… I want to break them in all aspects possible…’ Is a thought running rampant in his mind. 

He brings you close to him, an arm holding your waist as he turns to your ex “No matter the reason, it will not excuse interrupting our leisure time. Your previous transgressions already warrant a punishment. Now run home, while you still can.” He says, a voice so commanding yet foreboding. The dark aura looming around the skies is already a death threat in itself. Your ex is leaving without another word.

The skies cleared and Lucifer turned to you with a soft look, before pressing a kiss on your forehead. He checks if you felt shaken up from the experience and if you were, he’ll hold you close as you both go home while he whispers soothing words by your ear.

He’ll treat you like royalty, basically in second place after Asmo when it comes to pampering you. Lucifer wants to do everything to make you forget that scary experience and if you let him, he’ll personally handle all affairs regarding your ex.

“MC… please believe me when I say that you’re precious. You should never have to go through something like that again, I’ll make sure you’re always safe and happy everyday” He says, placing a kiss on your hand and cheek before pulling you in for an embrace.

After that incident, he makes sure your ex has no way of contacting you ever again for whatever reason. If only he could, he would’ve locked the bastard in the castle dungeons and performed any punishment he saw fit. He’ll eliminate anything and anyone that causes you pain or distress. 

Your ex better watch their back soon. Because it’s always as if the shadows are moving despite nothing being there. There’s always an extra pair of footsteps that can be heard even though they’re alone when walking home. Red eyes glaring at them from the distance before disappearing in a blink. The paranoia that something is watching them would drive them crazy, but the real miracle is if they’d ever make it home without a scratch. 

Mammon

Mammon didn’t take it well when he learned that there was someone else before him that won your heart. He’s supposed to be your first in everything after all! So he may have been a little bit pouty but it didn’t take much to cheer him up again. Just a little bit of affection got him back on his feet. 

He was curious to know who this someone must’ve been to win your affections before the Great Mammon himself, because it was only fair to assume there must’ve been something special about this person right? 

He was quite insistent on it but he respects it when you want to keep it to yourself. Mammon was quite tempted to go through Lucifer’s office to perhaps look at your file, but he doesn’t want to upset you if you found out his attempts to learn more about your personal life behind your back. 

One day he finds you looking pretty upset and as much as you try to hide it, Mammon knows you the best out of all the brothers so he’s not letting you off the hook until you tell him what’s wrong. He needs to know so he can think of how to cheer you up.

You eventually give in and tell him that your ex has been bothering you lately. You told Mammon about how your ex practically ran off with some of your things, ditching you in the dust. Now they’re back but you don’t want anything to do with them, because you’re sure they’re just going to take from you again if you give them a chance to hear them out.

Mammon’s thoughts went a thousand miles per second as you told your story. First, he can’t believe for a second that he envied this asshole! Second, he started to feel the worry that his poor behavior might make you remember your ex. 

He holds you close and tries his best to reassure you that he won’t let your ex even get away with a single dime from you. “If they try to even look at ya I’m gonna have to start chargin’ a fee! They can’t touch the valuables yknow?” And that was enough to cheer you up, even a little.

Mammon is practically glued to you everywhere you go just to make sure you’re doing okay. If you thought he was overprotective before, prepare to be proven wrong. On times that Mammon isn’t with you, there’s always a crow circling around the area around you instead. 

Mammon is extra vigilant of your things after he learned what happened. No one is ever stealing from you again because your treasure is his treasure now. At some point he tried to pick a fight with a classmate that just wanted to borrow your eraser… his heart is in the right place though!

When you two bump into your ex, Mammon gets the first word in the conversation. “Listen here ya piece of shit, if you ever think of bothering my MC again you better start sleeping with one eye open. There’s gonna be a bounty on your head when I'm through with you.” You practically had to hold him back from hitting your ex personally and causing a scene.

When your ex tries to butt in and talk to you, Mammon blocks you from their view “Lost your chance buddy, now go and scram unless you wanna gamble how many teeth will be left of ya once we’re done.” If anyone knows one thing, it’s to not accept a bet made by Mammon himself. There’s not a gamble he made that he didn’t win. 

As soon as they left, Mammon grabs your hand and leads you away as if you both are on the run. “Come on! Before that loser changes their mind, let’s high tail outta here!” He says with a flashy grin. 

Mammon spends the day trying to make you smile again. “Don’t worry about spending a dime, i snagged us some spare change” He says, holding up the wallet he stole from your ex during that confrontation. In his defense, if your ex stole from you then he might as well get even, right? 

He’s definitely not through with your ex now that he’s seen their face. With enough determination and patience from the fourth born, Mammon learned a specific curse for your ex. Now every time they’d need money for something, their wallet would always run short on cash. There’s never going to be enough money, but for some reason they always want more. Well, that’s the Avatar of Greed for you. 

Where does the money go? To Mammon’s pocket of course! Satan was wary of encouraging this bad habit of his brother by letting him have more money but after learning who this victim is? Say no more. That’ll show em to never steal from his human ever again. 

Levi

It didn’t sit well with Levi that you used to date someone else before. The idea that you gave your heart away to another person before Levi fills him with this twang of jealousy. Though he’s the Avatar of Envy so that’s to be expected. 

He doesn’t want to admit that in front of you though, so sometimes he starts talking to his goldfish to cope with it. Levi gets nervous and wonders what could have possibly happened in your previous relationship that made you end it. He’s scared that maybe he’s worse off than your ex or does the same thing. What if he’s already deep waters without realizing?!

It takes a while for him to build up the courage to ask you about it without his envy or anxiety getting in the way of making himself upset and backing out. He wants to know more about you after all, and that includes this. 

You talk about our old ex and how they were terrible to you. You found out that your ex cheated on you and it really did a number on your self-esteem, but you were better at masking that than Levi.

Levi felt awful for making you remember these memories, but at the same time he’s also pissed. How could anyone decide that you weren’t enough to the point they’d replace you? The idea of it is repulsive. He doesn’t even feel like he deserves you himself! Yet your ex had the chance to cherish someone as amazing as you and threw it all away. 

He’d wrap his arms and legs around you, feeling himself about to cry just thinking about how painful that must’ve been. “I-i don’t even know what to say but… I’d never hurt you like that. I’m sorry MC…” 

His empathy for you is enough to cheer you up and Levi spends the rest of the night trying to make you forget about your ex by letting you pick the games or shows to watch in his room. Though a part of him wants to go through the web and look for the bastard. 

Levi may be an anxious sweetheart, but he’s not the kind that would let someone who made you feel so low just run carefree. He’s a demon too, you know? so hacking into your ex’s online accounts and sabotaging them is not something out of his book. He could freeze their assets if he tried hard enough.

When you two end up running into them, Levi could hardly contain himself. Usually he would be the one cowering behind you whenever there are strangers he’s never met, but this time he put himself in between you two. 

“Even though I'm just an otaku, at least I could tell when something is rare and valuable. I bet a normie like you can’t understand that, seeing how you let go of someone as precious as MC.” Levi hissed, fangs threatening to bare at this scum until your ex finally decides to back off. 

Levi keeps his eyes narrowed at your ex until they disappear from sight. His glare is enough to convey that if the ex ever tries to turn around and take a step forward, Levi will have to do something about it. Once he’s sure that the ex is shaky out of sight, he finally lets out the breath he never knew he was holding in his lungs before he checks up on you. 

“I-i know that I'm not the best at a lot of things. Not looks… or sports… o-or studies. But I want to be someone who’s worthy of you!” Levi says, determination in his tone despite the constant stuttering.

To an otaku, you’re one of the rarest collectibles Levi has ever had the luxury of having, and he wants to prove that to the world! He won’t allow anyone to see you any less than that. One day he’ll make an entire powerpoint and show it off to the entire House of Lamentation titled ‘100 Reasons Why MC is the Best’

Your ex should be careful in entering any sort of body of water, especially the ocean. Who knows? Lotan might be looking for the perfect bite-sized meal soon. 

Satan

Satan learned your tells whenever you seem to flinch around people raising their voices. It happens a lot in a house full of rowdy brothers, but he sensed it more whenever there’s a serious fight and you’re around. So he tries to get you out of the mess as quickly as he could.

When you two got closer, you eventually told him about your ex that didn’t exactly… treat you right. Satan listened to every word, his full attention focused on how hurt you sounded and he doesn’t push the topic any further than you’re comfortable with. 

He lets you share what you only want to share, and he won’t pry on the details on what your ex may have done. With or without your explanation, to him it’s quite obvious what exactly your ex made you go through. “You don’t have to say anything more… I heard you loud and clear.”

Despite being Wrath, he tries putting in more self-control because he doesn’t want to accidentally scare you off. You even have special permission to use your pact against Satan should his anger go too far. The last thing he wants is to make you feel afraid instead of loved. 

But that self-control is not extended if he finds any demon hurting you, not even his brother’s are spared from his wrath (but it’s not like they’d hurt you on purpose anyways). He’ll make a protective spell that makes any demon who wants to cause you harm feel like they’ve held the hottest hellfire the moment they touch you. 

Satan was tempted to just go find the bastard himself and make them feel all the pain they made you go through tenfold. He’s not Wrath for no reason. But he doesn’t want to do anything without your discretion, since you trusted him with this broken and vulnerable part of you, then he shouldn’t abuse that trust.

On the day that you both bump into your ex, his gentle facade that he keeps up in front of anyone is gone. Molded into a sour expression full of hate. You could practically feel his wrath burning through your pact. 

“Let’s go MC, this pest is not worth our time.” His words are full of venom as he holds your hand firmly to guide you away from your ex, aggressively bumping his shoulder against them with a force that would have knocked them over. All he wants is to get you out of this situation, fast. 

When the ex tries to grab you to force you to stay, Satan is already putting you behind him protectively with his hand gripping them by the wrist. He really wants to tear them to ribbons for that but the only reason he doesn’t is because you’re here. He doesn’t want you to see that part of him.

His fangs are practically bared, ready to bite as he growls “Unless you want to go to bed with the same number of fingers that you woke up with today… Don’t. Touch. Them.” The hate and anger in his eyes are burning as he stares down at your ex.  

His threats are as clear as his grip on your ex’s wrist starts to get uncomfortably tight, it may leave a bruise as he lets go and that mark hopefully reminds them of his warnings. You watch as your ex scrambles for their life while they still have it. 

Satan had to take in shaky breaths, wanting to calm down from the heights of his anger. He wished he had an outlet, he wanted to draw blood so badly but he can’t let his anger take him too far or you’d have to deal with the aftermath. You need to be taken care of right now, so he does that as soon as he’s collected himself.

“When I'm with you, my wrath… It feels like it finally has a purpose. I want to use all of it to protect you. I won’t spare a single soul that hurts you, my angel” Satan promised, placing a kiss on your head as he held you close to his chest. 

Satan spends the night letting you lie down on his lap as he reads you some romantic poetry, ones that could properly convey how much he loves and cherishes you through words. He would occasionally run his fingers through your hair as he reads through the pages, and he’ll keep doing this until you fall asleep by his side.  

Now that he’s seen what the ex looks like, expect him to ruin their life. He won’t torture them (unless you were open to that suggestion-), but he makes it part of his nightly routine to place a curse on your ex to make their life insufferable. After all, Satan has been looking for a lab rat to test the hexes he wanted to use on Lucifer, and it seems he finally has one at his disposal. 

Asmo  

Asmo is very touchy and one thing he loves is a lot of intimacy in all forms. That includes physical. He’s used to showing these by hugging his brothers, but it made him confused when he didn’t get the reaction he wanted when he hugged you from behind. 

He’s a master at reading social cues so he immediately knows that you’re not okay. Did he hug you too tightly? Are you hurt somewhere? Asmo would whine and press you for answers normally, but he doesn’t this time. 

Asmo tried to get some gossip, wondering if something’s been bothering you lately. He loves how mysterious you can be, but this is the first he’s ever felt this frustrated not knowing enough about you! Not even the brothers knew what was wrong!

Asmo basically caves in one night during his skincare routines with you when he finally asks the question. “Love… no matter how much you try to hide it, I can tell something’s wrong.” He says with a hush tone as he applies a soft toner on your skin, looking at you with puppy eyes.

Even when he’s incredibly narcissistic, Asmo can be incredibly perceptive out of the brothers. He knows something’s bothering you, but he was not prepared to hear the story at all. 

You told Asmo that your ex has been bothering you lately, trying to get in contact with you constantly no matter how many times you tell them no. You explained that your ex called you several names before in the past and has treated you… awfully. You had to endure so much until you escaped that relationship. 

Asmo is probably crying more than you are at this point, ruining the skincare he carefully applied on himself with his tears. “How could anyone just… treat you that way? Do people not realize how lucky they are to have you?” He says between sobs, asking you for permission first before he hugs you.

He’s toned down his tackle hugs so he’d scare you less and take things at your pace. Asmo is happy enough to take it slow if it means you’d feel more comfortable with him. 

Though he’s less forgiving if any demon would look at you the wrong way. Asmo wants everyone to see how you’re the most precious gem in his realm and nothing lower than that. If he hears one bad remark from someone at the club or in school, Asmo will definitely make them squirm under his heel for forgiveness. 

When you both run into your ex, Asmo eyes them up and down. You know that Asmo doesn’t like looking at things he finds disgusting, and he gives off that exact expression when his eyes linger for even a single second in your ex’s direction. The judgment is evident in Asmo’s eyes, he didn’t even need to speak a single word to make it known. 

“I must say darling, your tastes really had a glow up now that I’m looking at that thing. I mean after seeing me, you’d agree, wouldn't you?” He says with his usual playful tone despite being so passive aggressive, subtly trying to lead you away from the ex.  

When they try to get closer, Asmo quickly shoots them a glare. His golden eyes have this particular glow in them as he speaks in an enchanting voice “Would you be a lad and go back to where you came from? Trash like you should walk back to the nearest dumpster, don’t you think so?” 

The mischievous grin in his face rivals the Anti-Lucifer league on the chances their pranks are successful as Asmo watches your ex obey under the influence of his hypnotic charms and run off to who knows where. 

“Ugh, I hate hate HATE looking at unsightly things! Did you see how they look?!” Asmo would whine on the way back home, his words judging every single aspect of your ex from the way their hair is fixed to even the slightest speck of dirt on their nails. He’d complain all the way back home how your ex is the epitome of revolting imperfection compared to himself. 

“You have to make it up for me, love. My eyes need to be cleansed! we’re doing a little fashion show in my room so i can stare at your cute little face all day!” There didn’t seem to be any room to say no, but you agreed anyways after all that Asmo has done for you today. 

He’ll spend the entire night trying to show off your good sides, which is all of it. If he can spend an entire trip home downgrading and judging your ex to the bone, Asmo will happily spend the last few hours of the day telling you what makes you so perfect in his eyes. 

Beel

Beel would be lying if he says he doesn’t feel bothered about your ex. It’s not a matter of you dating someone before, but it’s more of why you’re not telling him anything  about your past. 

Beel wanted to know more about you so he decided to ask Asmo if he had any gossip about you and your life, but to his surprise Asmo didn’t know anything. At some point he asked Lucifer if he read anything about it in your profile, but the oldest born just shakes his head and tells him to ask you personally instead. 

It’s perfect timing because as soon as he leaves Lucifer’s office, he finds you in the hallway and runs up to finally ask you himself. “I just… wanted to know more about you MC, even if it’s about that. It’s still part of you.” He sounds like a child asking for more allowance money to buy some candy.

You both go into your room and you explain why you never bring this up. Your ex always made you feel insignificant during the last few months of your relationship. You’re always neglected, never the priority, and it took a lot of courage for you to leave. Even when you did, your ex made it seem like you’re the one at fault. 

Beel can never understand how anyone could make you feel so small like this… have you always felt this way? Beel is not going to allow that. He wants you to make you his priority. You’re the person that helped fix his family, there’s no way he’s going to let you look down on yourself. 

You suddenly can’t feel the floor beneath your feet and in the blink of an eye, Beel lifts you up in his hands without a sweat. He stares at you with a small hum before lifting you even higher. You look at him, confused about what he’s trying to do until he speaks. “You know that I look up to you, for everything you’ve done for us here. I’ll make sure that no one ever looks down on you again, MC.”

When he says he looks up at you and how he quite literally means it with how high up he’s carrying you, it makes you laugh a little at how silly Beel can be sometimes. Seeing you smile again is enough for him to set you down on your feet and cuddle you for the next hour. 

Congratulations because you just won your own personal guard dog. No matter where you go, there’s always going to be the orange haired cuddly giant behind you. You had to reassure him that you’re going to be fine on your own and hope things would go back to normal. But you learn that not even bribing him with food can get him off your back.

When you both bump into your ex, Beel is immediately towering over them. His freakish height and his muscles as he looks down at your ex is enough to make anyone feel small under his threatening gaze. “Leave.”

Beel is the only thing that’s in between you and your ex. Your ex tried to make Beel budge but he barely moved an inch. It was the equivalent of trying to push against a brick wall at this point, the effort was futile and it just made Beel angrier. 

“I was being nice when I said leave. But I won’t ask a second time.” You can hear the faint sounds of buzzing, knowing how much self-control it’s taking Beel right now to avoid summoning a swarm of flies and locusts. It would be troublesome if Beel lets loose and shows the world why he’s given the title as the Lord of the Flies.

You tell Beel that you want to go home, and he immediately listens to you. With a small nod, he escorts you back while still keeping his eye on your ex in case they do anything funny. It’s all thanks to Beel’s kind heart and his love for you that prevented any sort of bloodshed tonight. 

Beel would take a small detour back and buy you some of your favorite sweets to bring home so you both can share it together in your room. Though the treats never made it back and is nothing but an empty container before you can even see the house in view. Regardless you still had a nice night eating the treats with him on the way.

You noticed the few glances Beel has been sending your way and before you can ask what he’s looking at, he places a quick peck on your cheek “You always look the best when you smile” 

Your ex better pray that they don’t bump into Beel in the middle of the streets because the moment this lovable demon spots them, there’s going to be some impromptu target practice with your ex and the closest table Beel can grab his hands on. 

Belphie

Belphie may be spoiled, but he knows his boundaries when it comes to teasing you about your previous relationships. You told him you’re not ready to talk about it, and he backed off immediately. He may poke fun about a lot of things when it comes to you, but his aim is always to make you laugh and never to upset you. 

He eventually finds out the truth when you were sleeping in the living room one day and he finds you. Just as he was going to join you, your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing like crazy. Belphie was irritated, wondering if it was Mammon annoying you again. 

He never really meant to snoop on your phone, he simply just wanted to turn it on silent mode so you sleep peacefully. But then he saw the various texts from an unknown number trying to demand your attention and calling you names. 

Belphie was so tempted to give this person a piece of his mind, but you woke up and caught him reading the messages. He looks surprised, and that expression immediately turns to guilt as he puts away the phone “MC? I-i didn’t mean to, I swear! But… Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

You can clearly see how worried Belphie looks, so you talk about your previous relationship and how your ex is trying to contact you despite how many times you’ve blocked their number already. You don’t know what they want, but it’s clearly not good. You try to ignore it, but Belphie can see how much it’s bothering you. 

“MC… I never knew…” Belphie says looking down. He still looks guilty, but it’s about something else entirely. He regrets those times he lied to you back when he was still locked up in the attic. He hates himself for doing something so horrible, especially now after knowing what you’ve been through. 

“I… I don’t deserve you honestly but… I want you to be happy, and I want to be the person who puts a smile on your face. Thank you for giving me that chance…” He says, giving you a small hug while secretly grabbing your phone. 

Belphie secretly switches the number so that your ex would be bothering someone else. Maybe with Mammon’s instead so that poor soul would have an earful each time they try to text until they get the message that it’s not you they’re texting anymore. He would’ve done it himself but… he is quite lazy. His older brothers can handle it.

When you both bump into your ex, Belphie looks at them with bored eyes. “Ugh… it’s you” He says, pulling you further away from that person’s reach. “Listen, stop bothering MC… or I’ll make you regret it the next time your dimwit skull tries to send them another text.” His last words were hissed through grit teeth. He may not look so intimidating at first, but he’s not as kind as he may seem. 

The moment your ex tries to send you another message, Belphie already had a curse activated. Any time they try to go to bed, they’re never going to meet the sweet slumber they need. Nighttime is always spent restlessly moving around the bed, trying to get some shut eye. They’re already exhausted by daybreak, and the cycle goes on. 

For the times they do end up falling asleep after passing out of exhaustion, they’re met with awful nightmares orchestrated by Belphie himself. Terrors and apparitions, making your ex feel endless fear for scaring you the past few days with his messages. Belphie is enjoying himself in this shared dreamscape as he watches your ex writhe helplessly. Beel noticed his twin always smiling in his sleep, unaware of how much the youngest is having fun torturing your ex from hell and back.  

Belphie swore to never let your enemies rest as long as he’s around. He’ll see to it that his promise is fulfilled. For now, he’ll pamper you and give you the best dreams so you can feel refreshed and relaxed each day before he goes back to his daily visit in your ex’s dreamscapes to haunt him until this poor soul learned his lesson. 

[randompoetemogirl]

Analysis of Ambrosius

If you’ve read my previous posts, then you’ll know that I have a theory that Ambrosius was forced/pressured to bleach his hair at a young age to be a better poster child for The Institute. Now, I want to delve a bit more into his character.

   We know Ambrosius is good right from the beginning. He encourages Ballister, acknowledges that Ballister has had to work twice as hard as everyone else, and says that the people will love him just like he does. He even encourages Ballister right before he’s about to be knighted.

   Then crap hit the fan.

   Ambrosius cuts off his boyfriend’s arm. He didn’t mean to, it’s literally stated that he did what he was trained to do. The Queen was attacked and he acted in reflex. Still, he feels guilty about this. He doesn’t use this as an excuse to justify himself, he KNOWS he did the wrong thing. But at the same time, is there even a RIGHT thing to do in that situation?

   We then see him anxiously think about the situation in his head. “ARM CHOPPING IS NOT A LOVE LANGUAGE.” It’s very clear that his mind is racing. This is the first instance where we see some of Ambrosius’ anxiety. Very often in media, anxiety is always shown at the very extreme: Panic attacks, not being able to talk to people, not being able to lead, ect. And while a lot of people do struggle with these things if they have really bad anxiety, there’s people like me who can lead very well in a group setting, make our way through a touch conversation, and hold our own ground. But at the same time, there are days when I’m walking my dogs and I cross the street just to avoid making eye contact or saying hi to a random person I’ll never see again. Sometimes I don’t have the courage to correct someone or I can’t raise my hand in class even though I know the right answer.

   Ambrosius is the perfect example of this. He’s a leader, albeit he was kind of forced to be a leader but a leader nonetheless, and openly stated his own opinions and thoughts. But at the same time, he had no idea how to deal with the crowd of people surrounding him while looking for Ballister. For Pete’s sake, he literally SIGNED AN AUTOGRAPH FOR ONE OF THEM. He could have shoved his way past the crowd and shouted for everyone to get out the way, he had every right to, but he didn’t. He didn’t even so much as raise his voice until he got to the escalator. 

   I mentioned this in a previous post, so I’ll copy and paste it here:

“Ballister shouting out to the waiter not to add olives because Ambrosius is allergic. Not only does this let us know how well the two know each other, but notice how it’s Ballister, not Ambrosius, who tells the waiter this. I believe that Ambrosius is a very anxious person do to all the pressure he’s been put under all his life and may find it hard to speak up for himself at times. Ballister has probably demanded that they don’t put olives on his nachos for years because of this very reason.”

   I think a lot of people can relate to this. Ambrosius can lead other knights, sword fight, hunt down his ex and his ex’s adopted daughter, but can’t remind the waiter not to put olives of his food, something he LITERALLY cannot eat. Another way I relate to Ambrosius is being able to be confident/snarky in the right settings. This may be because this is how The Institute has raised him, as stated in a theory in my previous post that Ambrosius was forced to bleach his hair from a young age to look more like Gloreth. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was taught to act bold and courageous in front of the cameras too. During his knighting ceremony, he’s whoops to the crowd and even seems very confident in his commercials, but surround him with a group of people and he can’t choose the right course of action.

   Even if Ambrosius wasn’t purposefully written to suffer from anxiety, I still think he’s a well written character that won’t soon be forgotten. He’s complex, he’s loyal, he’s loving, and most of all, his hair smells like lavender as confirmed by Todd.

[drconstellation]

First-Order Archangels

Part 1: Maybe You'll Spot An Archangel

GABRIEL: I told you you could ask. However, I am the only First-Order archangel in the room, or, you know, the Universe, so I'm not gonna answer so much. But you feel free to knock yourself out with all the asking.

While I was writing my meta series The Passion Of Jimbriel it became fairly obvious to me there was something more going on between Crowley and Gabriel in S2 than just the numerous pointers to Crowley's pre-fall angel status. They are acting as both parallels and foils to each other, and in places you can swap their characters and get the same story at a different time – and that just opens up a whole new window of context and insight into things. For pre-reading, see this meta from @vidavalor that nicely lists some obvious parallels. It doesn’t mention everything though, so I’m going to discuss parts in more detail.

A foil is a character who contrasts with the protagonist, to highlight or differentiate certain qualities between the characters. Crowley and Gabriel do this because they have come from essentially the same place, and share some story elements, but they still end up in different places.

There is a lengthy original discussion about Crowley's pre-fall angel status here, for pre-reading. It points out the obvious and some not so obvious points that ops have noticed in S2 telling us about Crowley's pre-fall status. Rather than just go through them all again, I'd like to look at some other scenes in S2 that also tell us something about both the similarities and the differences between these two high-powered entities as I go along. In addition, I’ve done a series of posts looking at Gabriel as a shoulder angel (links at the end of post,) because quite often he’s on the demonic left-hand side – which makes sense when you realize he’s a Crowley parallel.

Take the arrival of Gabriel to Whickber St and the bookshop. I’ve already mentioned this parallel story line a couple of times now, but lets look at it again in more detail. It mirrors the opening of S1E1 where the serpent climbs the wall of the Garden of Eden, morphs into a demon and starts to converse with the angel standing on the wall.

Back in the present day, we have a Gabriel, who also tends to present on the sinister-side, walking up to the gate of the present day Garden (the bookshop), which is still guarded by the same angel as it was 6000 years ago, and basically tells Aziraphale he has “fallen.”

How to we know this? It is a reference to the Fall of Man, when Adam and Eve ate the apple the serpent offered them, they suddenly became aware of their nakedness, and hid from God. Gabriel has already upset the love-apple tomato cart on his way to the door of the bookshop, its a sign of the chaos to come.

The fallen angel is not sure of his name, so he prompts with a question…

And asks for shelter under the (reluctant) angel’s wing..

But there is one thing he does know, the one thing that drew him to Aziraphale in the first place:

AZIRAPHALE: Then why did you come to my shop? GABRIEL: I don't know. I just thought I should. You know what it's like when you- when you don't know anything at all, and yet you're totally certain that everything would be better if you were just near one particular person?

Later, Aziraphale realizes that he must give Gabriel a new name to hide him – because fallen angels take on a new name, don’t they? Just like Crowley did.

Then we get a confession:

Which is what Crowley loves about Aziraphale as well - that bit of unpredictability, because you know how humour kind of works? It throws the unexpected at you.

Early on in S2 we find out they are both in trouble: first His Royal Smugness, then Our Hero himself. Our view is turned upside down, with the angel made the bad guy and the demon the good guy who needs to win. But both of them are being hunted by Shax.

Then we get one of the early clues pointing to Crowley's high status as an angel:

SHAX: A miracle of enormous power happened last night. The kind of miracle only the mightiest of Archangels could've performed. CROWLEY: Mm? SHAX: Somewhere very close to your friend's bookshop. Are you telling me you don't know what caused it? CROWLEY: How'd you know I didn't do it?

Shax stalks and threatens both of them, sometimes at the same time:

Another parallel Gabriel and Crowley shared in S2 were associating their identity - no, lets rephrase that - "essence" was one description I've seen - with boxes.

Gabriel arrives with a box that strategically covers his front, and quickly tosses it aside once Aziraphale opens the door to the bookshop. It lies forgotten until Gabriel mentions it a while later. Inside it is the fly from Beelzebub - an object from Hell - so it really needs to be 'invited' across the threshold of the bookshop by Aziraphale to be able to enter. The box initially appears to be empty, Once inside, the fly is free to roam. It has a message written on one side of it.

The same goes for the matchbox. Message included.

ah, wot? you say. Yep.

The matchbox represents Crowley, probably in more ways than one, but I'll just go through the stuff relevant to this meta here.

I notice I'm not the only op to connect the line from the Book of Job on the side of the matchbox with Crowley. The line is from Verse 41, which talks about Leviathan. Among the various shapes it is described to take is a great sea serpent. This deserves its own meta for further discussion, which I plan to do after this one, because yes, Crowley is Leviathan in disguise, but there is much more to it than that. But for now, just know that the matchbox is Crowley.

Once you know this, it makes sense that Muriel finds it - a discarded cardboard box by the front door to Heaven - and deals with a material object that shouldn't by rights exist in Heaven. Then a certain demon finds Muriel lurking outside during the siege on the bookshop at the end of S2E5, and talks them into letting the certain demon be escorted up into Heaven where he doesn't belong, where he's free to roam around - only he needs a guide because he's not sure where to go. Ah Muriel, you poke the Serpent, he's going to poke you back. Good thing he likes you, and it just was a gentle nudge.

Two empty boxes, two cases of memory-loss. That is what S2 seems to suggest to us at first glance.

Gabriel's seems to be the most straight forward in hindsight - find the fly and restore Gabriel to his original "Gabriel-ness." But its more complicated than that. When pushed to remember, his lilac eyes return and another voice can be heard speaking through him of the past. This happens twice, with the second one being part-prophecy. What is really triggering these episodes of channeling? Is it God or someone else speaking through him? We really aren't sure at this point in time.

Then there are questions around Crowley's memory. Did he have his memory wiped when he fell? Was it wiped repeatedly? Was it not wiped at all, and he just pretends he doesn't remember? Neil has even said he is an unreliable narrator about his own Fall, so who are we to trust at this point? Crowley does seem to understand in the end some of the problems Gabriel is having with his absent memories and that brings them to a temporary truce.

Both Aziraphale and Michael inspect their respective "empty" boxes, and neither notices anything obviously amiss. Gabriel's box just seems empty to Aziraphale, he takes no notice of the fly container in there, and archangel Michael tentatively inspects the matchbox brought to them by Muriel but nothing seems out of place there either.

Crowley's change in costume in Heaven during his little infiltration caper with Muriel is also another clue to his past status as an archangel. He has a silvery-gray suit, similar in style to Saraqael's to reinforce the link with them, but at the same time he is also mocking the other archangels and their elite status. We've assumed for a while now that the appearance of the tactical turtleneck signals that Crowley is up to something sneaky or spy related, but I'm starting to think it also relates to a bit of a power play (and Crowley certainly laid the power on for Mr Brown in the pub!) Looking back at S1, Gabriel's not adverse to wearing one either when he needs to be at his worst (or best. Your choice.)

The way one dresses is a way of expressing and reinforcing authority, and its something both Gabriel and Crowley do without much thought. They have been used to being in a position of power and/or independent authority for much of their existence, and I would say that even if Crowley is a few steps down now from where he started, and he's more cautious around those higher ranking than him than he used to be, he still retains that knowledge of what its like to be at the top.

Crowley's usual near all-black costume is a form of power dressing in itself. Whether is was in the past, when black was an expensive color to buy and maintain in clothing, or in the present day, we are still respectful of those in a stylish cut of black.

Gabriel's impeccable tailoring as Supreme Archangel also commands respect. So it's no wonder that one of Gabriel's first requests on regaining his memories was to ask for new clothes! He wasn't just being the vain archangel we believe him to be (although, I think there is still some of that) you also need to consider the elements of the reference characters that went into his shop assistant character: Granville, the belittled shop assistant nephew from the sitcom Open All Hours, who got stuck with all the shop duties from his uncle and felt like life was passing him by, and the silly Monty Python gumbies, that complained of hurting brains - lovable and much loved characters, but not ones you'd really want to be forever. We all want to be loved, but we want to be respected as well.

For all his fierce posturing around Gabriel, there is a brief moment in S2E3 where Crowley backs down and treats Gabriel as an equal - and that is reflected in a change of dress as well. His outside jacket off and sleeve-garters on, Crowley sports a look we haven't seen since S1 when he was home alone in his Mayfair flat. He patiently explains gravity to a curious Gabriel and then describes his "Operation Lovebirds" plan to his puzzled companion. He admits he hasn't "done weather in ages." It's just a quiet, charming moment, watching two ex-archangels get along together.

You're smiling, aren't you?

This meta continues in Part 2: Foils of War, where the differences between Gabriel and Crowley get explored in more detail, and how Aziraphale and Beelzebub act as mirrors to each other a few times as well.

This meta is part of a series on Gabriel: Gabriel as a Shoulder Angel: S1 Study S2 Study Part 1: Ep.1 The Arrival and Ep. 2 The Clue S2 Study Part 2: Ep.3 I Know Where I'm Going and Ep. 5 The Ball S2 Study Part 3: Ep.6 Every Day

First-Order Archangels Part 2: Foils of War

First-Order Archangels Part 3: Seeing Eye to Eye

[sulieykte]

𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 // 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 ✧˚ · . 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒗

‣ Pairing: Adult!Neteyam (20) x Fem!Omatikaya Reader (19) ‣ Warnings: mentions of weapons and blood. emotional damage and a slightly nicer Neteyam ‣ Word Count: 2.9k ‣ A/N: I had fun with this one. I finally gave some side characters time to shine and I hope you enjoy getting to see some other important players. I've had a clear out of the taglist, I've gotten rid of any empty blogs and dead links so I apologise if you're no longer tagged but it needed to be done. Good news is, this leaves more room for anyone else who wants to be tagged, so just shoot me a message or reply to this if you want to be tagged in the next part just remember that I will not be tagging ageless blogs. English is in bold italics all other dialogue is in Na'vi. ‣ Na'vi word bank: tìyawn - love, taronyu - hunter, kllkä - descend, uniltaron - dream hunt, kuru - neurul queue, tsaheylu - neural connection, sa'nu - mum, maktoyu - rider, mawey - calm

SERIES TAG | SERIES PLAYLIST | JOIN THE TAGLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

previous | next

“Why are you acting so weird?”

“I’m not acting weird.”

“Yes you are.”

“I’m n- Lo’ak. What are you talking about?” Your hand drops from his face, halting your decoration of his face to match the markings he had adorned your face with. You fix him with a questioning gaze, urging him to go on, even though you already knew what he meant.

“Look, you’ve been acting strange ever since-“His eyes dart across the tent, ears flattening against his head as he looks to Spider for support and receives only a shaken head in response. “Fine, you’ve been weird ever since you and Neteyam got stuck in that cave. And it’s not just me that thinks so, Kiri agrees. Dad even said you seemed upset when they got you out. I just thought something might have happened in there?"

You sigh and turn to look at Spider, who’s trying desperately to look uninterested in the conversation as he prepares the paint for his own blue markings. It was good he was there; you had been prepared for this conversation, felt the Sully’s concerned eyes on you every time you declined a dinner invite or rushed off after clan meetings. And as much as you had believed it would be best to keep it from Lo’ak, sharing what his brother had told you about Ralu would hopefully stem any further questions about your attitude.

“Lo’ak, before we got trapped, Neteyam told me that Ralu had been discussing our activities with him and other warriors in the clan.” Your tail curls around your middle, the topic still stings, as much as it had been lapped twice over by the hurt caused by your dalliance with Neteyam. “He didn’t have anything kind to say about me it seems. Right Spider?” You add, looking to the human for back up.

“Yeah bro, I was there. The guys a dick.” Spider confirms, his eyes flashing with the same annoyance that he had displayed the next day when he’d tried to insist on confronting the hunter and you’d had to talk him down and make him promise not to share any of it with Lo’ak. The rage in Lo’ak’s eyes told you that it had been the right call.

“I’m going to kill him.”

“No, you’re not.” You laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder to stop his attempt to stand. After all, you’d be left without a flying partner for the days raid if Lo’ak were to follow through with his threats. You were sure if you approached Jake to ask to be paired up with another warrior, he would oblige, but you could not bring yourself to explain to the man who had been like a father to you why you didn’t want to work with Ralu. “Bro, it’s fine. You know I don’t need you to fight for me, I can fight my own battles. And I am okay now.”

Lo’ak seemed to accept that, with a few grumbled expletives directed towards the taronyu. You breathed a sigh of relief as you dipped your fingers back into the paint, sweeping a stripe along Lo’ak’s cheekbone, careful to steady your shaking hands.

The wind whipped against your cheeks as you weaved through the mountains, eyes finding your target. The barrelling metal vehicle Jake had called a ‘train’ wasflanked by two gunships. You hear Jake call out for the ground team to go ahead and you send a parting salute to your left, to Lo’ak, and follow closely behind Neytiri.

The first explosion is devastating. It throws the train from the tracks, flipping it over as its path is encompassed with flames. It’s almost beautiful, to see the Sky People’s creations alight as forest had been when they razed the ground to build their city of metal. The airships soon follow, dispatched by Jake and Neytiri, meeting the ground with more flames and destruction. You raise your arms, meeting Neytiri’s victory cries with your own.

“Kllkä Anì.” You guide your Ikran through your bond and descend to the ground, Ralu settling down beside you. Sliding from your mount, you sever the bond and give her a gentle pat to the flank. ‘Let’s go. Two minutes, let’s go.’ Jake’s voice rang through your ear, urging you forward. You tilt your head to Ralu to follow along.

No sooner than you reach Norm is a case of human weaponry thrust into your arms. “Go, get out of here kid.” Norm had been about as happy as Jake was to let you partake in the raids. It was just as common for you to burst into Hells Gate with Spider as a child as it was for you to invade the Sully’s home and Norm had become a constant in your life. But there had been no grounds to deny you, the same argument had been made by Lo’ak and Neteyam. You had all passed your uniltaron and been accepted as one of the people and you would fight for your people.

You reach Anì with your spoils and get to work tying them to her saddle, preparing to follow Norm’s orders and Jake’s earlier commands to grab what you can and “Haul ass out of there.”

“Lo’ak!” and the cheers that followed were unmistakable. You turn, delaying your departure to locate the voices of the two brothers, unsurprised at the sight you found. Lo’ak stood brandishing a gun and even out of earshot, you could tell Neteyam was scolding him by the tension in his shoulders and the deep set scowl on his face. Rolling your eyes, you finish tying off the leather straps that secure the case.

You have Anì’s kuru in hand, ready to make Tsaheylu when you hear Jake’s voice booming in your ear. “Gunships inbound, fall back!” Pulling yourself up onto her back, you hear Ralu’s voice, an urgent call of your name and a demand to hurry. But your attention is drawn by the projectiles you see the ship release and the direction they take. How they land where you had seen the Sully brothers stood just moments before.

As smoke and flame fills your vision, your mind cannot will your body to leave. They weren’t there. They heard their fathers voice the same as you had, they had fled. You tell yourself that as you slide down from your Ikran and run towards destruction.

“Lo’ak!” Your cries for your friend go unanswered, your throat tightening as you repeat the calls and they continue to go unanswered.

Until you recognise one of the bodies on the ground.

“No. No. No. No.” His body is face down, unmoving and your heart skips several beats before you scramble over the rock separating you. “’Teyam?” You roll him over, hands reaching to grasp his face. The tension in your throat releases when his eyes blink open and he lets out a groan of pain.

“Y/n?”

His eyes meet yours and you realize how close your faces are as you hover over his body. You don’t move, finding it hard to tell your body to let go when moments before you’d believed he was gone. Heart pounding against your chest you squeeze your eyes shut, a shaken breath in turning into a steady exhale. You didn’t have time for this. The gunship was sure to not be the only one and you had to figure out how you would get you and Neteyam to your ikran and you couldn’t even think of Lo’ak. You prayed he’d gotten himself to safety.

“Neteyam!”

“Jake! We’re here. I have him!” You pull away from Neteyam, standing to direct Jake to your location. Jake clambers over the metal debris, hands finding your shoulders as he observes you for any injuries. “I’m fine, but Lo’ak I couldn’t-“

“He’s safe. Get out of here.”

Your shoulders sag as he releases you from his hold, moving towards his eldest son. Lo’ak was safe. Neteyam was safe, or at least he would be once his father got him out of there. Jake barks another command to leave at you and you purse your lips ready to call for Anì, who settles beside you before you can even release a sound. She had been waiting for you, your loyal sister. You make Tsaheylu and feel her worry through the bond, soon soothed by the connection and the reassurance that you are safe.

Climbing onto her back, you spare one last glance at the Sullys, seeing Jake lift Neteyam over his shoulder before you take to the sky. Your chest heaves and the dam breaks, allowing the tears loose to stream down your face. “Stop.” You tell yourself, swiping a hand across your cheek, hand coming away damp with paint and tears.

Your head is pounding as you slump back to you Marui, unsure if it was the explosions or Jake’s lecture that had done more damage. You knew better than to argue when placed in a line up with the Sully boys as Jake demanded to know why the three of you were anywhere near the train car when the missile hit, when he’d given clear orders to be in and out of there as soon as you’d grabbed supplies. You knew better than to point out that you hadn’t been anywhere near the explosion.

You’d found your escape when Jake noticed the scrapes you’d acquired in your search for his sons and sent you to the Tsahìk to get them looked at. You had debated arguing then, your injuries were insignificant compared to Neteyam’s who had been forced to stay behind. His father was still not finished expressing his disappointment in him. But you didn’t. With the adrenaline of war dying off, you couldn’t look at him without recalling the last moments you’d spent together before today and decided that you weren’t upset at the idea of him suffering for a little longer.

“Come here ma ‘ite.” Your mother’s comforting voice greets you and you fall into her welcoming arms.

It was hard on your mother, that you had chosen to follow in your fathers footsteps. You knew this, though she never complained or tried to dissuade you from what you’d declared as your path as a child. Instead, she would greet you on return with open arms, a meal and a bowl of warm water to wash yourself.

She holds you at arm’s length, eyes falling to your legs that were smeared in the healing paste not so gently applied by the Tsahìk. Worry lines that hadn’t existed a only a year ago sullied her skin, before your father returned to Eywa and you committed yourself to this war. If it was even possible, it made you hate the Sky People even more.

“Sa’nu, I am well. It’s just a few scratches, they won’t even scar.” Your reassurances do little to dim the concern in her eyes. “You should go assist the Tsahìk, there’s many wounded.”

She nods, your sweet mother, and allows you to remove yourself from her grasp. The last thing you want is to be coddled right now, as much as the warmth of her arms is inviting, you want nothing more than to end this day and find peace in slumber. So she leaves you, departing with a kiss pressed to your forehead and a strained smile.

The water she set aside for you smelled sweet and soothed your sore eyes as you scooped a handful to rub the paint from your face in a haste to remove it. It was the symbol of a warrior and you felt more like a scared little girl. Pathetic. You had never cried after a battle, not even as you watched clan member after clan member be laid to rest. It was something every warrior knew possible and accepted when going to war. So why had you cried until you had no more tears left to give?

The water has turned a murky orange by the time you are happy that your skin is free from any undeserved adornments.

“Y/N?”

The voice calls from outside the Marui and your heart skips a beat. Neteyam was the last visitor you expected to receive. For a moment you consider pretending you are not home, but the candlelight was a dead giveaway. You didn’t know if you had it in you to take whatever he had to throw at you tonight, a lecture you were sure, an echo of his fathers insistence that you should not have disobeyed orders. Not when today had been the first time he’d spared you a glance since the night by the lab and he’d had little choice in the matter with your face inches away from his own.

“What do you want Neteyam?”

His face appears around the flap of the tent, brows raised in question which you answered with a nod. He enters your home, his toned form covered in the same paste that Mo’at had applied to your own wounds. Good, that shit stung.

You stare for far too long and he notices, a smile spreading across his face that has you turning to grab for a cloth to dry your face for an excuse to hide your face and the heat rushing to your cheeks. He still hasn’t spoken when you uncover your face, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“Why are you here?” You ask, and you hate how desperate you sound but you can’t do this with him again. Whatever fight you had left to give to this war between you and him, he had taken from you at the lab.

“I came to check if you were okay.”

“Are you being serious?” The laugh that you let out is bitter and catches in your throat and his ears drop at the sound.

“Yes, you were hurt.” He gestured to your legs before his eyes meet yours. You know they must be red and bloodshot, the water had done little to stem the irritation. “And you seem upset Tìyawn.”

The word falls from his tongue like it’s nothing, but to you it’s like a maktoyu to their ikran.

“I seem upset? Did you notice that yourself, Neteyam? Or did someone have to point it out to you? I find it hard to believe that you’d have any chance of noticing when you haven’t even looked my way, or spoken a word to me since you abandoned me. After something you started. And you claim to be a better man than Ralu, but he didn’t abandon me as soon as he was finished with me.” You curse yourself for the tears that prick at the corner of your eyes, how did you even have anything left? “Eywa, just tell me what I did to make you hate me this much because it must have been truly awful for you to want to cause me this much pain.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“You’ve hated me since we were children, you have made that very clear.”

He crosses the tent, the impulse to step back quelled by your will to stand your ground. He does nothing more than hold onto your arms, his touch gentle but firm.

“Do you know what my dad said to me back there?” His jaw clenches, fingers tightening around your arms for a moment before they relax, and his hands gently run up and down your arms as if wiping away his grip. “I’m the older brother. It’s my responsibility to take care of my siblings and I am fine with that. It’s my duty. But you… You became my responsibility too, and you didn’t make it easy. You and Lo’ak dragging each other into so much trouble. I think I resented you for that for a long time.”

“We were just kids Neteyam.” You shake your head, his perception of your childhood far different from your own. You’d always looked up to him, the mighty fisherman Neteyam who seemed to excel at everything he did. Your first years spent clung to him until his dismissal of you dulled your admiration for the boy. “And I’m not your responsibility anymore.”

“No, you’re not.”

“So why are you here?”

“To apologise.” His hands drop from your arms, a hand intertwining with yours, fingers idly playing with your own. It sends a shiver down your spine and you pull your hand back, not allowing yourself to get pulled back in.

“Did your mother send you again?” He laughs at that, fangs poking at his bottom lip as he shakes his head.

“I deserve that.” He steps closer, bringing a hand up to your face to cup your cheek. You have no choice but to look him in the eyes, his face only inches from yours of his doing this time. “I am sorry. What I did at the lab, it was wrong. I should not have left you like that.”

Your breath hitches and there’s nothing more you can do to stop the tears that fall as a sob that rips through your chest. The emotions of the past few weeks, of everything he’d put you through, the bruises, the abandonment, his body lain lifeless as you found it all coming tearing from your body as he pulls you into his chest.

“Mawey Tìyawn. Mawey.”

taglist: @lili-of-the-dream @arminsgfloll @aliceantalus @afro-hispwriter @syulangg @strongestangel @jjkclub @grxcisxhy-wp @cl0esblogg @thehalalboy @avatarmasterlistblog @violet-19999 @itzgabz22 @zeysartzone @justasimps-blog

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Ok regarding that “can i make Yves do my homework if I give him my childhood pictures” ask, exactly how much access does Yves have to our lives? Does he have images or videos from when we were still a baby or would they be new information to him?

A bunch of my baby pictures and videos are lost because my dad lost the computer that had them but we recently found my aunt’s old camera filled with our childhood pictures, it was a pleasant surprise for us but would it be for Yves too?

It absolutely is. If Yves was there with you while your aunt showed you the photo gallery of her old camera, Yves would momentarily lose a bit of inhibition and let his pupils dilate to a maddening degree before instantly constricting it back to appear normal. It's a rare, super deluxe edition photos of you, there isn't anything else like it out there as they're most likely not uploaded to the internet or a cloud based service, where he could easily hack.

Him coming across media from your childhood or at least during those early days where people still go to and get their photos developed, is like winning the lottery for him. Because, although he tries to collect everything relating to your existence, there is only so much he can do in a day. He rather prioritizes the present and the future, as the past is the past; neither you nor him can change it, he can only understand or connect it to your current behaviours or thought patterns.

He does have some information about you as a baby or a child, but that is if they're "readily available" to him. (I.e., it can be found in predictable places like in your childhood home.), that is why, Yves would try to build a good relationship with people you grew up with, to extract information.

Despite being reclusive as he is, Yves would never fail to attend every and any family gathering he is invited to or expected to come. Encouraging that drunk uncle to drink more if he knew he has something to say about you, bribing your relatives with gifts and career opportunities, perhaps even drugging that really difficult and combative cousin to make them more bearable to interrogate.

As soon as he knew your aunt could be another goldmine of your data, he would get to work. Wasting no time building a rapport with her, it's a piece of cake given how obsessive and manipulative his nature is.

Inevitably, your aunt will come to love him and see Yves as family. By extension, her relationship with you will skyrocket too, she will invite you to her place much more often even though she might not be the most sociable person in the first place. Yves will find a way to make her bend to his whims.

The majority of their conversations would be about you, only sometimes Yves would talk about something else if it meant he could keep the drive to spill more about your lore going. His sharp ears and mind will pick up on clues as to where he might find more pictures or writings about you. He would then break into your aunt's home to give it a thorough shakedown and leave without a trace. Yves would repeat this process until he's positive that she has nothing left to offer. That camera is getting fucking stolen and replaced with a duplicate.

It didn't matter if your aunt was a minimalist or a severe hoarder, he would go through all her things just to try and find pieces of your puzzle. He would wade through cobwebs, dust piles, rat droppings and mould if he had to, Yves isn't scared to get dirty to obtain what he wants, "squeamish" isn't in his vocabulary.

When she is robbed of all your essence, Yves would become distant. Not hostile towards her, just cold and indifferent. He would still maintain some sort of relationship with her though, in case she becomes useful again later. As of now, he either puts his entire focus on your current peripheral and direct life, or start to hunt other members down- from his snooping, he had learned of other people who may have valuable input about your childhood.

All of this is happening in the background. You wouldn't suspect a thing, there wasn't a dip in his attention for you. In fact, he may have gotten a lot more smothering, as Yves would be shaking at the thought of testing out his new theories and hypothesis that were birthed from his new knowledge.

He just loves you so much that he couldn't help himself but to get greedy. Yves wants all of you; past, present and future. And any version of you that could have been.

[xetswan]

The Switch of Daylight- Steam

(Alice x Reader x Jasper)

Nine | Ten | Elven

I sat with Mike, Angela, Jessica and Eric like usual. Listening to them rant about the illness going around.

I then look up to see Bella carrying her tray of food to her normal table but then looks at us. I smile, encouraging her to do it. She takes a deep breath and joins us. I watch as the others take note but continue talking.

"I'll kill Tyler if he gave me his flu." Jessica threatens. "It's going around. My sister was so sick she couldn't come on our hike this weekend... so she didn't see it." Angela frowns, they were talking about a large animal. "Ang, maybe you should keep that to yourself." He whispers to her.

"We saw something Eric." Angela argues with him. "I believe you." He assures her. "No he doesn't. He's just trying to get lucky." Jessica calls him out.

"Is that an option?" Eric asks in a hopeful tone. "It was jet black and huge; on all fours it was still taller than a person. A bear maybe." She explains what it is and I stiffen up.

That's definitely one of the Quileute boys...

"Or Big Foot." Jessica interjects. "Or an alien. Lucky you didn't get probed." Mike jokes. "We saw it." Angela whispers and my face softens, I believe her but I can't be the one to speak up. "You're not the only one." Bella says, everyone then stares at her, shocked that she actually spoke up. "My dad's been getting reports at the sheriff's station. A couple hikers went missing. People are scared." She explains, everyone's now sitting a little straighter due to what she said. "I did hear some guy talking about it at the store." Mike admits. "Last time you clowns doubt my girlfriend." Eric puts his arm around Angela, now they all continue to another conversation.

Angela moths a thanks to Bella. Sharing a smile before they both join in. Bella rejoining the group again.

"You look scared." Jacob tells Bella, I stand there with my arms crossed. "I'm not." She's lying, she's now on one of their completed motorcycles, Jacob stands next to her, holding the bike up.

Now on the La Push forest clearing, a dirt road, Jacob runs through the instructions. "Brake?" She taps it. "Clutch?" She squeezes it. "Right. Gas?" She then grips it, he smiles up at her. "You ready?" She nods, he then grins, kick starting the bike. "Slowly release the clutch."

She does as told, the bike moves forward an inch. Jacob nervously steps back and she moves another inch forward. I notice her turning to find something. Her hand slipping off the clutch and the bike bucks and falls on top of her. Jacob and I quickly lift it off of her. "You okay? Bruises, breaks?" He questions her and I stare down at her. "I'm going again."  She tells us. "I'm not sure that's a good-" She's already up and hopping back on the bike. "Guess we're going again. Now what are you going to do with the clutch?" He asks her.

"Release it. Slowly." He nods, kick-starting the bike again. She releases the clutch and moves forward. Slowly at first.

Now she keeps going, a tiny bit faster. I notice as she is looking around and then the curve up ahead gets closer to her. "I don't- How do I turn!?" She yells to us. I drop my arms and I want to run to her but it would give myself away to Jacob. "Bank it! Bank- hit the brake!" He shouts. "Hit the break, Bella!" I scream. Both of us running to her. I try to match my pace with his, She reaches the turn, not banking and goes straight.

Flying right into a wall of trees. As she lies on the ground dazed, we hurry to her. "What are you training for the X-games?" He questions her. My nostril flares as I can already smell her blood. "I want to go again." She says. "Forget it. I'm revoking your motorcycle privileges. Man, look at your head." He tells her, I back away from the sight. Holding my nose. Normally blood doesn't affect me, but it's been a while since I've been hunting.

"God, I'm sorry." Bella shrinks as Jacob pulls his shirt off to wipe the blood. "You're apologizing for bleeding?" He questions her. "It uh bothers name." She points to me as I then pretend to gag at the sight.

Knowing it's really just making my mouth water like feigning animal. "[Name] you alright?" He asks me and I just put my thumb up. "I uh, I'm gonna go over there." I look away from them , hurrying away.

I go into the woods, far away from them. I can hear them talking but I know that they won't be able to hear me.

Shit, why haven't I gone hunting in so long. I feel the pain of smelling her blood. My nose stinging as my mouth waters tensely. I cover my mouth to muffle the sound of my groans.

I then see a deer walking, my body starting to shake as I try to control myself. I squeeze my eyes. Looking back to the entry of the forest. They can't see me. I'm going to have to not be messy with this. I then surprise attack the deer.

Wiping the blood off of my face, I cover the deer with leaves, cleaning myself off as well.

"[Name]!?" Jacob calls after me. I curse mentally. Checking myself one more time and I walk over to him.

"I'm right here." I laugh. "Sorry, blood really freaks me out. I had to throw up." I lie to him, walking up to him. His facial expression shows confusion. "You never had that problem when we were kids. You were the one who practically played doctor when one of us got hurt." He remembers and I bite my bottom lip thinking of what to say.

"Yeah, then in Arizona a kid broke his leg, bone out and all. I've gotten sick at the sight of blood ever since." I pick up a quick lie, he seems suspicious but shrugs it off, both of us leaving the area.

Charlie and I are watching a game, well more Charlie than I am. I'm more focused on Bella doing homework, she's on edge. Jacob hasn't respond to texts or calls after they went out to the movies together with Mike. She wanted me to go too since it was going to be awkward for her, knowing both boys like her. I refused though, not wanting to be caught up in that mess. She told me Jake wasn't feeling good at the end of the night, feeling extremely warm.

She's been trying to call him, she had the flu too so she wanted to make sure he's alright too.

As the next few days passed I heard her try to call him over and over again. Now we're in the kitchen, she left yet another message. Charlie comes into the room.

"Harry and I will be back by three." His sentence stops when he sees her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "It's mono, Bells." He softly reminds her. "He's too sick to even call?" She exclaims. "You just gotta wait it out. You know, I don't have to go fishing..." He says, even though he desperately wants to go. "No, go. I have [Name]. I'll just call Jessica or something." She forces a smile. "Good but you two stay here or at Jess's. No hikes or anything. We're issuing a warning about those bears." Charlie sternly tells us.

But of course Bella and I don't listen, After we watched Charlie and Harry leave we went to the woods. Bella tries to navigate her way to the meadow with a map and a compass. "You know I could just get the top of a tree and probably find it easily right?" I remind her, she just hums in response. I just let out a sigh, continuing to follow behind her. I know it's a wolf that everyone's seeing but I want Bella to feel a little safer so I can along.

After a while I see Bella notice the clearing ahead, hurrying towards it. Once she goes into the opening she seems hopeful. Like something... someone will be there waiting for her. She told me about the sun that would be out but instead it's cold, gloomy and cloudy. Bella sinks to her knees, I frown at the sight.

Before she can even cry, we hear a rustling noise. We turn towards it, I move my body to cover hers. Another noise coming from a different area of the woods. Then we turn to another noise and Laurent is a few yards away. My body stays in front of Bella.

"Laurent?" She questions.

"Bella. [Name]." He acknowledges my existence as well. "I must admit, I didn't expect to find you two here." He admits to us. "We live here. But you- I thought you were in Alaska with Carlisle's friend." She brings up.

"Tanya, I was. It was kind of him to arrange, given my association with James and Victoria. The enemy." He smiles to himself. "You tried to help us." Bella disagrees with the last part. Laurent begins to stroll in a slow arc around us. Bella grips onto the sleeve of my jacket. Every movement he makes I follow. "I went to visit the Cullen, but their house is empty. I'm surprised they left you two behind. As you were some sort of pet and you... you turned." He grins. "Congratulations." I roll my eyes in response. I begin to feel Bella's fear. "Um... something like that." She tells him.

"Do the Cullen visit often." He looks between the both of us. "Absolutely. All the time." Bella lies. Good call. "I'll tell them you stopped by." She's trying to soothe her body. I begin to focus on my energy while also on him. Any step closer and I'll tear his head off. "Will they be able to reach you in Alaska?" She questions.

"I don't think so. Tanya's vegetarian family was pleasant enough. But the dietary restrictions were difficult- living on nothing but animals." He then looks at me, smirking.

"Something you've been finding difficult lately, hm?" He whispers, only audible to me. I give him a look. I haven't tried human at all. What is he talking about?

"Tell me Bella. Do you ever fell compelled to cheat?" She tries to step back while also holding me but I keep my stance. "But that's not why I left. I came back here as a favor to Victoria." She

"You're still friends."

"More or less. She asked me to get the lay of the land with the Cullen. Because, well... I'm afraid Victoria is quite put out with you." He informs her. "That's too back." She responds. My eyes glare him down, he's not focused on me. He doesn't know my ability. "Yes. She feels it's only fair to kill Edward's mate, given he killed hers. Eye for an eye, mate for mate." He tells her, Bella's heart quickens each word he speaks.

"Edward will know who did it. He'll come after both of you." She knows to not bring up my ability. "I don't think he will. After all, how much could you mean to him if he left you here unprotected?" He then glances at me again, he thinks I'm not a threat. "Victoria sent me here for information. She won't be happy about my killing you." He hums. "No, Laurent..."

"No, no, no. Don't be upset. I'm doing you a kindness. Victoria plans on killing you both slowly. Painfully, whereas I'll make it very quick." I'm apart of it now too?

"And you smell so mouth watering." Laurent inhales my sisters scent which grosses me out. He then shoves me out of the way, taking Bella into his arms.

Shit.

I hear her whisper something. I stand up, then look over to see a black wolf. It's Sam. He skulks out of the darkness of the woods. Letting out a disturbingly deep growl, his sharp teeth gleaming. I smile at the sight of the others coming out. I go over to Sam. Laurent goes to bolt across the meadow. I use my ability to slow him down, weaken him.

"What is-" He stares back at me, noticing it's my doing. The wolves then spring out, seemingly towards Bella but then leap above her. It's impossible for Laurent to fight back as my ability weakened him into an almost human state.

"Run, Bella." I push her towards the way we came in. "What about you?" She panics. "They're good. It's okay." I tell her. She then runs like she was told.

Once she's out of sight I run to the mess they've made of Laurent. His limbs all over the place. Sam and who I think is Jacob come up to me. I smile.

"Good timing." I pet who I think is Jacob. "I'm sorry you turned." I sadly look at him. He whines a bit, backing away from my hand. Sam makes a low grumbling noise.

"I'll make the fire and then meet you guys at the rez." I tell the five wolves. Sam huffs. Paul comes up, purposely bumping into me, whipping me with his tail. "Hey, get going now." I order them.

Sam does a quiet howl, they make their way away from the scene and I pick up Laurents limbs, putting them in a pile.

After putting out the fire I rush back to my house. Charlie is already angrily storming out the door. "I'm going to the station, you want to come?" He asks. "No thanks, I'm gonna go to the Rez." I tell him, he comes over and gives me a quick side hug and kiss on the forehead before getting in his car. Bella comes out.

"Can you come with me to get Jacob?" She asks, storming towards her truck. "Uh-" "I'm going either way." She opens the truck door. I let out a groan, she's already taking off so I look around and then jump onto the back of the truck bed. She looks in the back and I irritably wave, she tries to hide her smile as she continues to drive. I stay sat in the back.

Feeling rain droplets start to fall on me. Lifting my hands I feel the rain. Then notice my hands steam, I begin to panic. Going to yell to Bella but then it stops and I close my mouth. What is happening? I feel my chest begin to pound and the steam emits once again off my body.

Stop stop stop stop.

Bella's truck goes to a halt and I stand up from the truck bed. The steam stops again. The rain only getting harsher.

Bella and I head to the door, she knocks. No one answers. Then a second time and finally Billy is at the door. "Hi, Billy. I know Jacob's sick but-" "He's out with friends." He cuts her off. She seems taken aback. "Oh." "I'll let him know you came by." He begins to close the door but Bella stops him. "Wait- he's got mono, right? That's what you told my dad." She interrogates him. "You should go home, Bella." Then he finally closes the door.

Bella storms down the stairs, getting into her truck and slamming the door behind her, obviously pissed. She begins to start the truck but then stops, tossing the keys aside. I slowly walk down myself, instead of going towards the truck I go to where I can hear five boys rough housing in the woods.

I speed off to where I hear them, peeking out from a tree as they don't even notice me.

"You know for wolves. It was pretty easy for me to sneak up on you." I fold my arms in front of my chest, they all jolt, getting into an attack position but once they realize it's me they calm down.

"Jake you're hurting my sister." I point a finger in his face. "I don't have a-" "Ah," I cut him off. "I didn't ask for excuses. We all have choices." I then look over to Sam who doesn't look me in the eye. "He really doesn't have a choice." Paul speaks up and I laugh. "He does, everyone does. You guys just choose the dumb ones!" I throw my hands up in the air.

"Well here's a choice you have, you're a bloodsucker who has the choice to be something better." Jacob throws in my face and my eyes widen. "Excuse me?" I step closer to him, Sam places a hand on his chest, pushing him back. "Jacob that's not-" "You told him!?" I glare at Sam.

"I can't control it, wolves read each others minds. I don't get to hide anything." Sam defends himself, I close my eyes tightly, now angered. "Jacob apologize to my sister or so help me." I spit in his face, shoving him against a tree before I walk away. I hear Sam jog after me, the boys looking after Jacob.

"[Name], I swear I didn't mean for anyone to know." He tells me and I just ignore him. "[Name], I'm sorry." He's practically pleading and a part of me wanted to stop to listen to him. That child in me who had the biggest crush on Sam Uley wanted to stop. But the other part, the person I am today, refuses to even look him in the eye after the betrayal he committed for his own selfish reasons.

I then see Jacob at Bella's truck, her climbing out. "You cut your hair." She announces. "Go away." Jacob turns away and bite the inside of my mouth. She grabs onto his arm. "What happened to you?" She asks him and he turns back as the others wait for him, out of earshot.

"I can help." She lowers her voice. His face is stern, shaking his head. "Sam got to you. What did he do?" Bella questions, obviously concerned for her friend. "Sam's trying to help me, don't blame him." He retracts. "Then who?"

"How about those filthy, reeking bloodsuckers you love? The Cullens... your sister." He says, he obviously didn't realize I was there, if my heart was working it would be broken by the fact that he just said that. "I... don't know what you're-" "You know exactly what I'm talking about." His body was shaking with anger.

"The Cullens are long gone. How are they to blame? And [Name] is still her how could you say that..." Her face falls. "They started all this by existing. Goddamn leeches-" "Jacob." Sam gives him and look and Jacob takes a breath, then he finally notices I'm there, rolling his eyes before going back to talking to Bella.

"I can't be friends with you anymore." He tells her. "Jake, I know I hurt you, I should have been more up-front but I needed you, I still do. I don't know what that means yet, but if you give me time-" "Stop. Don't it's not you." His humanity is still there, Sam is making him do this.

"It's not you it's me? God." Bella shakes her head. "It's true. I'm not good." He tries to find the right words. "You're wrong-" "It's doesn't matter. This is over." He tells her.

'"I can't take losing my best friend too." Bella's voice breaks.

"You already have-" "don't say that- you promised!" She tries to remind him, it was an effortless fight though.

"Go home, Bella. Don't come back." He runs away, joining the group to leave Bella standing in the rain.

I helped Bella into her truck and it felt like that day all over again. Only this time I was filled with a rage I've never felt before.

And when we got home I knew there was something wrong with me as Bella said the only words I never wanted to hear again. "[Name], you're really hot. Like burning." She mutters to me, backing away from my body. "I think you're hallucinating." I wave it off, lying to her is my best option right now. Charlie comes out and helps her inside. I sit in the truck, nervous about the steam with the rain again, it would prove that I'm heating up instead of being cold.

I can't turn. I can't.

I curl up in the truck seat, wanting to cry.

Masterlist

A&J M.L.

I guess I’m posting a lot right now. lol might post another tonight🧍🤷‍♀️ What are your theories for future chapters🤪🤭

Taglist: if you want to be added lmk

@stevenandmarcslove

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs

@kisekihany

@aureliacorvina

@l3ejm

[teenwolfmarvel-obsessor]

Who Did This To You?

Full Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist

Summary: After a long and stressful hunt, all you wanted to do was take some time off at a local bar, primarily you and Dean rather than Sam. So, while Sam is at the motel, you and Dean decide to hang out at a bar in town. The two of you hang out for a while before it's time to head back to the motel. While Dean is in the restroom, you get an unwanted conversation from someone, but you can handle yourself, right?

A/N: Not sure if I like this that much, but I thought I'd post it anyway. Stay tuned for more imagines!! If you'd like to be a part of the tag list, there's a form in my bio you can fill out, or you can DM me!

Notes:

Y/N/N: Your Nick Name

Established a relationship

Not set during a specific season

Warnings:

Unwanted flirting (guy at the bar)

Dean Winchester x-reader

The music played in the background as everyone talked around Dean and me. We had mostly kept to ourselves, occasionally speaking with the people around us. Since we were never really in town for long periods of time, Dean and I thought it'd be funny to make up different stories.

For instance, this time, 'we' had just gotten married in Las Vegas, and we were doing a road trip across the United States. It was stupid, but it was always fun to make different lives that we might never have. "Wow, so, this trip must be fun," Maria said, the woman we met. I smiled and nodded my head.

Dean had his arm around my shoulder, leaning to the side to kiss me on the cheek. "You two are just adorable," Maria said, grinning. The two of us thanked her, telling a few more fake stories about how we had met. "Well, as much as we would love to talk more, we have to head home," Maria said.

She and her husband, Jeff, stood up from the table. "It was so nice meeting you two. Congratulations on the marriage," Jeff said. The nice woman winked at me before leaving the bar. Dean kept his arm over my shoulders. His smile never left his face as we sat there. He sighed and checked his watch.

"Shit. It's eleven-thirty," Dean said. He took his arm off my shoulders to have the last bit of his drink. I grabbed my purse from the chair beside me, putting my arm through the strap. "I'll be right back," Dean stood up, "You good to take the bill?"

I nodded. Dean winked at me and kissed me on the cheek, then headed to the restroom. I shook my head at his actions. The bartender stood to the side as she was tending to some other customers. I pulled out my wallet to close our tap.

We had kept it open for a bit since we had bought Maria and her husband a few drinks, with them doing the same for me and Dean. Lexi, the bartender, spotted me. She held up a finger to tell me she'd be right with me. I gave her a nod and leaned against the bar. I still had a few sips left of my drink.

The music had died down a bit as the night went on. Dean and I hadn't planned on staying out this late, but we had a long day, so it was worth it. Surprisingly, we hadn't drunk that much, mainly because we knew we had about a nine-hour drive the next day. I grabbed my phone to text Sam that we'd be over in a few.

He replied with a thumbs-up icon before telling me that he'd probably be asleep by the time we got to the room. I chuckled at his response, putting my phone into the back pocket of my jeans. "Well, hello," a man said, sliding to the spot beside me. I nodded at him and continued to wait for the bartender.

"Why're you here by yourself?" he asked. I was able to see him from the corner of my eye, noticing that he was already out of it. I looked over my shoulder at the bathroom door. Part of me hoped Dean would spot what was going on, but the other part of me hoped he wouldn't, knowing that he'd cause a whole scene.

"I'm not," I replied. As soon as I said that, I realized that answering his statement gave him even more reasons to continue. The man looked around to find whoever was with me. "Well, I don't see him," he said. "Well, he's in the restroom, so.." my sentence trailed.

I tried to fly down the bartender, but she was now talking to another customer. The man chuckled and turned to the side to get closer to me. I took the last sip of my drink, trying my best to hint that I wasn't interested. He sighed, reaching a finger for the loop of my belt. My hand put the glass down on the counter and tightly grasped his wrist.

He was taken aback by my reaction but gathered himself and tightly pulled my hand away from his. "I'm not interested," I said, "I've got a boyfriend." Now that he was closer, I could practically smell the strong scent of alcohol on him. I mean, we were in a bar, of course, but this was an unpleasant smell.

The man's grip grew tighter at my response. He flipped his hand so my forearm faced up. I looked him directly in the eye before stomping my foot onto his, thanking myself for choosing heavy boots. "Lexi!" I called the bartender. She turned to me with raised brows, her expression changing when she saw the man beside me.

Lexi walked over and glared at him. The people she was speaking to stepped to me, taking the unwanted man away. I thanked Lexi, giving her some money for our drinks tonight. She nodded her head after making sure I was alright. I glanced down at my arm, taking notice of the red marks already forming.

I quickly pulled the sleeve of my jacket down, covering my arm, just in time for Dean to step out of the restroom. I smiled at him as he approached me. "Ready?" he asked. I nodded. The two of us said goodbye to Lexi.

_________

(The Next Day)

I stood in front of the mirror in the motel, doing whatever I could to stop the red marks from becoming visible. But as expected, there wasn't much I could do. Rather than wearing the T-shirt I usually wore. I thought it was best to just keep the sweatshirt I had on yesterday.

The boys had already packed up and were in the car waiting. I told them that I was going to look through the room just in case we forgot anything. Since last night, I hadn't told Dean or Sam what happened, mainly because Dean would freak out and spend the day trying to track whoever that guy was.

I didn't want that, and I knew Sam wouldn't either. We knew how Dean got around things like this. Especially when it came to guys flirting with me. I grabbed my backpack and left the motel room, making sure that my sleeve wasn't pushed up by the backpack strap. "There she is," Dean cheered, gesturing to me with wide arms.

I smiled and got into the backseat. Dean got into the driver's seat while Sam, as usual, was in the front passenger seat. I set my backpack beside me. We were headed to Kentucky after getting a call from a friend of the Winchesters. As Dean was driving, I kept an eye on my arm, wanting to hide it at a good time whenever it began to bruise.

A couple hours passed, and it was time for lunch. We still had about two hours till we arrived at the motel. The three of us found a booth in the back of the diner. Typically, we'd try to find a secluded table in case anyone heard us. Sam pulled out his laptop.

During the whole drive here, Sam and I had been doing some research while Dean drove like usual. "I'm gonna head to the bathroom," Sam told us. We nodded and looked down at the menu. I kept glancing at my sleeve, worried that it would slip down.

I probably should've worn a better jacket, but I had limited choices. Every so often, I noticed Dean glance at me. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Nothing," I answered. He stared at me for a few seconds before scanning his eyes over the menu again. Dean didn't take long to figure out what he wanted for lunch.

"Y/N/N, I've known you and hunted with you long enough to know what's wrong with you," Dean said. He set the menu in the middle of the table, taking mine out of my hands. My boyfriend ignored my glare when he prevented me from choosing my lunch. "Nothing is wrong," I replied.

His unamused expression never dropped. Instead, Dean leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed. "Don't bullshit me," he said. "I'm not bullshitting you, Dean," I replied. Before the two of us continued, Sam came back over to the booth. Pam, our waitress, made her way over.

"Afternoon, sweethearts. What can I get ya'll?" she asked, holding a notepad in one hand and a pink pen in the other. We each told her what we wanted. She smiled and took the menus, turning around to the diner's bar. I caught Dean looking at me as Sam explained what we found.

About an hour passed, and we finished our lunch. Dean left the money at the table, including a tip for Pam. As I was walking out of the diner, Dean grabbed my wrist and pulled me aside. I hissed in pain and took my hand out of his grip. Dean's face turned to concern when he heard my reaction.

The last thing he wanted was to hear me wince from his touch. He told Sam that we'd be right there. He waited a second before turning back to me, wanting to know what the hell just happened. He knew me too well that everything was fine, especially from what we do.

Dean didn't waste a second. He pushed my sleeve down, revealing the hand-shaped marks. Dean looked at the marks and then up to me. "Dean, it's fine," I lightly pulled his hand away from mine, but he didn't back down.

He carefully held my hand, not wanting to let me go. "Who did this to you?" Dean asked, his voice slightly stern. I was glad that we weren't in Virginia anymore since I knew that Dean would leave the diner to go after you know who.

His brows raised when I hadn't answered his question. "Who did this to you?" he repeated. "It was a guy at the bar. It's fine," I replied. I took my hand out of his grip. Dean looked at me and sighed as he put two and two together, turning to the side (GIF Above).

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, looking back at me. "I didn't want you to worry," I replied. Dean sighed, again, and took my hands into his. He leaned down and kissed the top of my head, bringing me in for a hug. "I'm sorry," Dean said. "I'm okay, I'm okay," I repeated.

Taglist: @nix-rose @nyotamalfoy

[luimnigh]

Okay, I wanna pitch a Marvel movie.

Now, this is a Marvel movie that will absolutely never get made. They would not allow this. So here's my pitch:

We open on a heist. A group of absolutely Z-list, one-paragraph-on-the-marvel-wiki, single-digit-appearance-count supervillains robbing a secure facility. The villain that hired them narrates the plan as we watch, and while it doesn't go off without a hitch, some of the more bloodthirsty villains cause some unecessary bloodshed, it succeeds.

Our villain protagonists leave the scene in a van, loot inside, and drive off into the countryside to a rural, isolated house in the forest to lay low for a couple days. Everyone's celebrating their success, they're drinking, there's some drugs, a few people sneak off for sex. This is the point where we get to know the personalities of our villains, some are assholes, some are complete monsters, and there's a few people who are pretty decent and are really only in supervillainy because life dealt them a shit hand. We can see factions dividing our group of villains.

Their boss finally arrives separately, sporting some more villains as muscle, and the conversation turns back to business: the division of the loot.

And then someone finds a body outside.

One of the villains has been murdered. Everyone is immediately suspicious of everyone else, accusations are thrown, motives speculated, tensions get higher and higher, weapons get drawn-

A shot rings out. Everyone either opens fire or runs. One or two villains die in the crossfire, others are injured, this goes on until one of the more sympathetic villains calls for a ceasefire.

They're in the middle of trying to talk everyone down when they hear a car engine start, and one of the villains who ran from the fight bursts out of the garage in the getaway van-

With the loot still inside.

A few of the villains fire shots at it, but are soon stopped- they could destroy the loot. The boss explains as the van drives down the road that with his resources, tracking the villain that's double-crossed them would be easy as-

And then the van explodes in the background.

As our main party of villains makes their way to the burning wreckage, flaming dollar bills falling around them, they speculate on who the hell boobytrapped the getaway van-

But are interrupted by a click.

One of our villains looks down to see that nobody boobytrapped the van. Someone landmined the road.

Thankfully, one of our villains is a techie, and after a few tension-filled minutes, they disarm the mine. The villain who stepped on the mine is thankful, and the techie explains that they should be able to clear the road soon enough, right before their head explodes in a shower of gore.

If the landmines hadn't made it clear enough, that certainly sealed the deal: this wasn't a double cross, this wasn't an ordinary murder.

They're being hunted.

This is a slasher movie.

The film continues on, the villains getting picked off one at a time in creative and gruesome ways, some even having their tech stolen and used to kill other villains. But throughout, we never catch a glimpse of the killer.

Right up to the end of start of the final act. By this stage, you've started to root for our supervillains to overcome this. There's a few assholes left you wouldn't mind seeing die before the final curtain, but the killer's will have lost sympathy by this stage, having killed some of the more likable villains. We wanna see them pay for that.

And just as the killer is stabbing one of those likable villains to death, our surving villains, and the audience, finally catch sight of the predator that's been stalking them through the night.

A man dressed all in black... except for big white skull painted on his chest.

And suddenly there's no guarantee that any of the villains you've come to like are walking away alive.

[drdemonprince]

CW: suicide, commitment, psychosis

My sibling is someone who unequivocally says being committed saved their life and was not inherently traumatic outside of the extremely traumatic mental health crisis that led to it. (However, our local psych ER/psych inpatient is probably one of the better ones and does not use any kind of restraints or force medication. They seem to have an okay track record explaining what the pills are and asking if the person can try them, which I get can still be coercive in some cases, but worked well with my sibling. Also, I was visiting them as much as I could every day, which they found really helpful, and I could keep my eye out for any issues.)

My sibling (~30) had a severe psychotic episode that doesn't quite fit any current DSM diagnosis. They went 0 to 100 from no suicidal ideation to actively attempting suicide in front of me due to delusions about being hunted by supernatural entities who would torture them. They finally could not sleep for days, and therefore I could not go to sleep because they'd try to kill themself. They were not dangerous to me intentionally, but one or both of us could have been hurt by me trying to take a weapon from them. They could not think at all outside of panic and delusions and had no short term memory, so they describe themself as having been incapable of understanding their condition. They weren't able to engage with any social interventions, because how would you have the time or bandwidth if you were living in terror of demons about to torture you and couldn't remember conversations from an hour ago?

They went to the hospital voluntarily after being stopped from attempting, but then they were committed because of aforementioned memory issues when they shortly informed the doctors they had to leave and kill themself. In a moment of lucidity, they were glad to be there, but they just couldn't stay lucid from moment to moment. Trying to get outpatient help in the weeks all this was escalating had been fruitless, with a lot of dismissive assholes, but these particular inpatient docs actually cared and asked how they were doing and figured out a dose of antipsychotics that made it all just... stop like a switch had been flipped.

Once they weren't operating under the terrifying delusions, they 100% did not want to die and were so relieved I stopped them and got help from others when it was becoming too dangerous to us both for me to intervene alone. I get that this kind of crisis is really different from living with chronic suicidal ideation or depression, which is something I personally deal with on a low level, but it was a genuine, terrifying situation where someone's expressed wishes were the opposite of what they wanted when they could understand their situation more fully.

I am allowed to share this, but if this is somehow not on anon, please delete it. Stigma about psychosis is REAL.

Yo this is super helpful, thank you for sharing. One of the trickier aspects of upholding disabled people's autonomy and taking a harm reductionist approach to suicide and self-harm is the fact that people in a state of psychosis may temporarily want something they would otherwise never want.

Though with some experience working through it with a caring and informed support network, it is possible to stand in for the person's stated desires and help them get through the period of lacking lucidity -- and of course psychosis can become a lot less destabilizing with time. i know someone who relies on a close friend to help ground them when they're having delusions and hallucinations -- a quick phone call is now enough to convince them they don't need to kill themselves, but that's after years of getting used to having psychotic states.

glad you and your sibling found solutions and made it through this okay.

[soft--dragon]

Loosen Up

So recently I finished Vox Machina and if you haven't seen I highly recommend it!! SUCH a good show oh my lord. Can't wait for the third season to drop :D

You can view the relationships however you like, I don't mind ^^ (except Vex and Vax, they're siblings, don't be weird :/)

Word Count: 3,138

Warnings: Kinda spoils a plot line in season one but nothing major ^^

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

It isn’t a secret that Percy is a bit of a stick in the mud.

Rarely did he let his walls down and simply be. Too caught up in his world of smoking guns and exploding inventions. A lifetime of heartache shutting his heart away in a cast iron keep that very few had a key to access. This also meant emotions such as joy, love, and contentment were rare to be exposed from behind those defensive gates.

That was before Vox Machina. 

A chaotic, rambunctious group of outcast individuals working with the skills they had to make it through another day. A ragtag family doing its best to survive in a world that would spit at their feet and tell them to fuck off. 

However, this family knew how to tell the world right back to fuck off too. 

Percy honestly couldn’t imagine his life with these people a few years ago, but now he simply could not fathom a reality without them. Tight-knit and stupid and loving, never faulting in their care. It was something Percy told himself to never take for granted, no matter how much they tested his patience. 

Much like tonight, where he was being subjected to the most irritating forces known to man: Vex and Vax when they were on the hunt for entertainment.

Percy is sitting near the fire, sketchbook in hand with rough charcoal drawings of new inventions scattering the pages. Vex and Vax have boxed him in by sitting on either side, peering at his notes and asking such incomprehensibly odd questions Percy wanted to know who the hell tutored these two monsters.

Honestly Vax, why would a pistol need a compartment for snacks? 

It took almost fifteen minutes before Percy's patience gave in and the notebook snapped shut with a dull thud. “Are you two quite finished?” Percy demands, staring at the duo with a narrow gaze. 

Vex grins, raising a hand in surrender. “We’re curious about your new inventions, love. Is there something wrong with that?”

Percy huffs, tucking his book into the folds of his jacket that is laid not too far from the flames, warming up for the night ahead. “Only when you keep badgering me to make a glove that turns whatever it touches into gold.”

“It would be quite helpful, dear.”

“And far out of my current capabilities, I’m not a wizard.”

“Oh, give yourself some credit, Freddy,” Vax grins. “Grow a beard and I’d say you’re plenty wizard-like. With your lifespan, you’ll need a cane before you know it, and it could act as your staff.”

Percy glares at him under half-lidded eyes. “Thank you, Vax’ildan,” he says sarcastically. “Remind me that I will die much sooner than the rest of you, just what I needed to hear tonight.”

Vex snickers, gently bumping his shoulder with her own so those green eyes look at her. “Oh come on, we’re just messing with you, Percival. What’s got you so grumpy this time?”

Percy gave her a mildly incredulous look. “I’m not grumpy.”

“He says while glaring, and with a bitter tone of voice,” Vax murmurs with a grin. 

Percy shoots him a dry look which the male elf only laughs at. “See? That’s exactly what I mean, man!”

Vex’ahlia laughs, dropping her arms over her bent legs and cocking her head to the side. “What is it gonna take to make you loosen up, Percy?”

“A good bottle of wine, some peace and quiet, and a book.”

“We have two silver to our name and a bear,” Vax counters. “Can’t quite match your aristocrat taste, but Trinket tells great stories.”

Trinket, nestled comfortably at the edge of the cave where the other party members are conversing, does not indicate that he knows, nor cares that his owners are talking about him. Percy envied that damn bear, able to go to sleep and easily block out the surrounding sounds. What a dream life. 

“Trinket is busy sleeping,” Percy tells them, “his stories will have to wait.”

Vex isn’t dissuaded by Percy’s bristling attitude, instead leaning more into his personal space just because she can. “Darling,” she says, “We just want to help you relax, is this such a big ask?”

“...Yes.”

“Aeugh, the drama of this man,” Vax chuckles through an exasperated breath, elbowing Percy’s side gently. 

The white-haired human flinches away from the contact with a start, his hand shooting down to rub the area. “Yes, yes, you’ve stated I am a dramatic piece of shit more than once, Vax. I believe your point is made.” 

The twins aren’t listening to Percy’s grumbles. The second he flinched, they’d locked eyes, a conversation played out with expression alone.

Vex narrows her gaze. Hurt?

No. Healed by Pike from the last mission.

Just startled, then? 

Seemed more than that. He knew we were right there.

So what are you thinking? 

Perhaps…

Vex perks a brow at her brother when his expression suddenly brightens in some kind of realization. Her eyes flit over to Percy who was unaware of their silent musings, still resolutely crossing his arms with a scowl that the fire did not deserve to be subjected to. She looks back to her sibling who is grinning now. Vax gives a small flex of his fingers, his eyebrows jumping up and down. Understanding hits Vex and her smile turns evil, nodding minutely. They wink at each other, the excitement for a game making them giddy though they contained it. Couldn’t let Percy catch on too early after all. 

“Percy~” Vex coos in her sultry voice, not missing the slight twitch in his face from her tone. The sight makes her all the more eager to extract the plan she and her brother had silently communicated. She lifts her fingernails to her eyes to examine them. “You sure we can’t convince you to loosen up at least a little?”

There was a scoff. “I’d like to see you try,” Percy muttered.

Oh excellent, an invitation. 

“Well, if the man insists, Stubby, who are we to ignore him?” Vax leaps for the opportunity with a grin that’s all charm and Cheshire-like. 

“I agree,” Vex smirks. “Shall we?”

Simultaneously, the two half-elves grab one of Percy’s wrists each and fling him onto his back, his arms being pinned by his head. A startled yelp leaps out of the human, the sudden gravity shift leaving him to stare up at the pair of matching grins. He tugs at his arms. They won’t budge. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Percy asks, bewildered and slightly on edge. 

“You said we could try and loosen you up,” Vex answers.

“By wrestling me to the dirt and pinning me down?” 

“Oh no, we just had to get you in a better position, dear heart,” Vax smirks.

“A better pos- for what?” 

The bemused and exasperated question only delights his captors further, and this is where Percival Fredrickson de Rolo the Third realizes a very fatal error. He had been encouraging the chaotic force that was the Elf Twins. He'd practically been asking for trouble. This realization only sinks in further when Vax’s free hand comes down to rest on Percy’s clothed stomach.

“Percy, you wouldn’t happen to be ticklish would you?” 

Oh.

Oh gods, no.

Memories spring to Percy’s mind of laughing himself hoarse while dogpiled under his siblings from the silly battles. The sensations scuttling everywhere, unstoppable and unbearable. His realization shows up in his face in the form of a pink flush and the beginnings of a wobbly grin that he desperately tries to keep under control.

“Oh, I see a smile trying to come out there!” Vex leers keenly, lowering her own hands to wiggle her fingers close to Percy’s side, delighting in his immediate response to wriggle away despite his efforts to seem indifferent to his dilemma. 

“V-Vex, this is ludicrous-” Percy splutters, his grin becoming wider by the second, his resolution foiled from years of inexperience in this game. 

“So you are ticklish, then?” Vax questions, his fingers gently pressing from where they are resting atop Percy’s lean stomach. 

The flinch and sharp intake of breath was answering enough. Percy’s ears were starting to burn from the attention, torn between wanting to wrench away and escape this playful teasing, or staying and trying to muscle through in a show of defiance. 

“I’m- it’s been a very long time since someone has tried,” Percy answers stiffly. 

The way the twins lit up made him cringe back, instantly knowing that was the worst thing he could’ve said.

“Well now we have to tickle you,” Vex exclaims like her word is law. Though, with her role in the group, it may as well be. 

Percy is most definitely blushing now. It was honestly adorable. “N-No you don’t!” He protests, his boots now shuffling into the dirt in hopes of dislodging his sudden capture. “I’m not even tihicklish!” Damn it.

“Was that a laugh?” Vax coos, delighting in a sound so rare from Percy who barely even grins on a good day. Percy is doing his best to try and become an ostrich with how far he’s turning his flushed face into the ground, stumbling refusals not quite managing to leave his lips coherently. 

“Why my dear brother, I think it was,” Vex chuckles. ‘Shall we see what else we can pull from our resident sour puss?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Electricity crackles through Percy’s sides and stomach in a split second, a strangled sound being pulled from a forgotten section of his vocal cords. His whole body instantly jack-knifes, legs trying to pull to his stomach to protect the sensitive areas suddenly under attack. Stubbornness makes him clamp his lips shut and bite his tongue, not wanting to give the twins the satisfaction of hearing him laugh again. He refused.

“Hmm, seems we’ve got a stubborn one in our hands, Vex,” tuts Vax, his fingers probing up and down Percy’s ribcage, noting every flinch and muffled grunt let out by the human. 

“Oh don’t worry, he’ll crack eventually.” Her eyes meet Percy’s and her smile makes his stomach twist in anticipation. She winks. “They all do.”

Her hand starts to slink down to his hip bones and- Nope. Nope. Nope. Not gonna happen, he’d rather get possessed by a demon again. Percy’s struggling kicks up, trying to find momentum with his legs to dislodge the grip pinning his wrists to the cave floor, still fighting not to crack as Vax’s fingers deftly squeeze his sides. He almost manages to heave himself to sit up, but a well-placed scratch at his lower back sends him crashing back down. His legs fly up to his stomach again, desperate to protect some part of his sensitive body while his chest shakes with restrained laughter. 

“Uh uh, not yet mister, we’re not done with you until you laugh~” says Vex, her hand dropping to lightly scuttle behind Percy’s knee that was right beside her.

Percy yelps, immediately kicking his legs back out, and scrunches into himself in a fast motion. The reaction made the twins pause, and he knew he was royally screwed. 

“Interesting, he might be like you. I think the gentler stuff works better on him,” Vex says to her brother, her hand dropping to Percy’s hips once more and scuttling her nails featherlight across the man’s skin.

“NoHAHaha!” Percy protests, his yelp swimming between stolen laughter that tries vainly to escape his throat, his head being tossed back against the floor as his body tries to do an emergency lockdown on his vocal cords. 

“Brilliant, sister,” Vax chuckles, and before Percy can prepare himself, he spiders his claws up along Percy’s stretched torso with a softened touch.  

Immediately, Percy sputters, and the dam finally cracks. “S-Shihihihit! Vehehex! Vahahax! Ohoho gohohod!” Percy gasps out through fits of boyish laughter, a sound so out of character for the gunslinger that it takes the twins aback in surprise.

His cheeks are flushed a rosy pink, standing out against his pale complexion and white hair. A wide, mirthful smile cracked out against his brooding face, nose scrunching in a way that couldn’t be described as anything but endearing. His body didn’t know whether to fight or fold, the long-forgotten instinct of childhood leaving him withering and laughing from the soft fingertips spidering along sensitive skin.

“Well, how about that,” Vax murmured, something gentle in his voice despite the mean wiggling of his nails on a particularly sensitive rib. “He can laugh.”

“Oh much more than that, dear brother,” Vex smiled fondly. “He isn’t grumpy now.”

Experimentally, her fingers swirl up Percy’s unprotected ribs to dance gently under his arm to see if it would have much effect. Oh, and it does. Percy practically squeals. High-pitched and panicked and childlike, his struggles for his pinned arms make a reappearance as the sensitive hollows are attacked by softly brushing nails. 

“Nononononohohoho VEHEehehex!” He pleads, scuffing the heels of his shoes into the floor in a half-baked bid for relief. “Fuhuhucks sahahake!” 

“That is utterly adorable,” Vax laughs, his own hand coming up to stroke deftly down Percy’s arm from wrist to armpit in a maddening pattern of soft touch. The strokes only elicit more half-bitten squeals and squeaks of protest, most noises swallowed up or blended into Percy’s laughter.

He knew he should feel embarrassed, his pride shattered into pieces from a few measly fingers and well-picked words to crack his defenses, but Percy couldn’t recall a time he’d last been in the middle of a play fight such as this. The sensations are foreign but not forgotten, too much and yet not enough at the same time. It was a conflicting state of escape or endure.

However, when Vax slipped a hand under his buttoned shirt to ghost gentle nails on his bare lower back, he was pretty sure his body got struck by lightning. 

“VAHAHAX! OHOHOhoho mihihy gohohod plehehehease! P-PLEHEhehehease!”” 

Vex and Vax pause in their movements and watch with awed amusement as Percy laughs himself mad from the briefest touch to his back, his full-bodied laughter quickly melting down into rich, honey-sweet giggles that shake his entire body. It didn’t seem real, that a sound so adorably childish could come from Percy’s mouth, and yet here he was, half curled on the ground, giggling up a storm. 

Vex and Vax share a fond, endeared smile and let go of Percy’s wrists, leaning away so he could have space to collect himself. The human wheezes through his tumbling giggles, his arms shifting to wrap around his middle as he slowly calms down. His eyes, which had been tightly closed, flutter open to show mirthful tears at the edges.

“F-Fuhucking hehehell,” he gasps, “I thohought I wahas gohohing to dihie.”

“Oh relax, we like you too much to kill you,” Vex snickers, offering her hand to Percy. She has to hold back a snort when he flinches mildly at her fingers, eyeing them distrustfully. “We’re done,” she promises.

After a suspicious look, Percy grasps her hand and allows her to tug him into a sitting position. One of his arms is still wrapped protectively around his stomach, his hand reaching far enough to rub that damn spot Vax had tickled for three seconds which caused him to fall apart. 

“Remind me to never piss you off,” Percy rasps, taking off his glasses to rub the tears in his eyes away.

Vax leans over to his supplies to snatch up his water skin, offering it to Percy who took it gratefully. “So,” Vax starts, watching Percy drink water like he hadn’t had it in years. “Soft touch and bad back, huh?”

Percy almost chokes. With a rough swallow, he recorks the water skin and clears his throat, stubbornly not looking at either of the twins. “Like I said, it’s been a long time. I didn’t think I still even was… well, you know.”

“What? Ticklish?’

Vex’s gentle tease makes Percy’s face burn for what felt like the millionth time that evening. He shoves his glasses back on his face despite the heat in his cheeks making them fog up mildly. The reaction makes the twins chuckle.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, Percy dear,” Vex soothes, an arm wrapping around his shoulders and rubbing gently at the nape of his neck - tension knotting the area from hours of leaning over a workbench while inventing. Percy winced at the attention, both from the anticipation of another attack and the ache of his tense muscles. 

“It’s embarrassing,” Percy grumbles without much heat, sounding like a petulant kid. “My siblings always ganged up on me because of it.”

“You have a nice laugh, I can see why they would,” Vax hums, tucking his water skin back into his nearby cloak.

The surprised look on Percy’s face almost made Vex tackle him back to the floor and tickle him again just so he could hear how precious his laugh was. She held herself back though, he’d had enough for tonight anyway. He hadn’t been tickled in years, he’d need to be introduced back to the game slowly. Tonight was an excellent first lesson. 

“So, Percy’s ticklish then?”

The sudden voice made the trio jump and look up to the other side of the cave where the rest of Vox Machina were watching them with grins. Scanlan, who’d asked the question, chuckled at the human’s sudden flush. “Yeah no, we saw the whole thing, de Rolo. Don’t expect this to be the last time, that was cute as fuck.”

Grog chuckled deeply. “Very cute,” he agreed in that rumbling voice of his. Pike, who was sat atop his shoulder nodded enthusiastically in agreement. 

“Had no idea you could laugh like that, Perce,” she chirped, glancing at Keyleth who giggled softly. 

“It was quite sweet,” the Air Ashari tacked on.

Percy stared at the group of people he called family, his eyelid twitching slightly and cheeks flushed a rosy pink. His gloved hands come up to press over his face, knocking his head into his bent knees, wishing the floor would just cave in and murder him quickly. 

“Aww, I think we’re embarrassing him,” Vax cooed, his hand resting atop Percy’s head and gently ruffling his hair in a brotherly fashion. “It’s alright, Giggles, you know we do it out of love.”

“F’ck off and die,” came the muffled grumble buried into Percy’s hands.

The twins cackled, pleased that they not only thoroughly shattered Percy’s indifferent demeanor, but got him flustered beyond repair from simple, playful affection and loving words. They were gonna have fun with this new information. It was their right as a family to carry on the de Rolo tradition of making Percival Fredrickson de Rolo the Third laugh, they wouldn’t let Percy’s late siblings down on that front.

[adorethedistance]

First Meet - Jamie Drysdale x Reader

Hockey Masterlist

Warnings: swearing? very PG meet cute

Words: 1020

Summary: First meet - having a meet-cute with Jamie Drysdale in a smoothie shop.

A/n: In an attempt to make up for me being gone for two months, I give you the first installment of the series of firsts. Some other firsts coming soon: first date, first I love you, and first time.

“A seagull is not a predator!” My best friend Chelsea argues as we enter the Jamba Juice of the spectrum center. The line is longer than we’re used to since this is the first time we’ve been here on a Sunday, but the wait doesn’t deter us and we stand patiently in line while we argue.

“What do you mean?! They literally eat fish.”

“Well, yeah. But they’re diving for bites from the ocean, they’re not hunting schools of fish!” She fights back growing increasingly more agitated and amused. The conversation only gets louder as we finally step into the smoothie shop. The long line of other less passionate conversations in tandem with the volume of the blenders has us shouting over the rest of the shop.

“What difference does it make!” I screech out of frustration, unsure of why Chelsea and I are having such a huge disconnect over the issue. We’re furious with each other but we’re also failing not to laugh at the ridiculous nature of the conversation.

“It makes a huge difference actually!” Chelsea huffs a sigh through her undefeated smile.

“Look, all I’m saying is that any animal can be a predator, it just has to try hard enough!” My declaration is immediately followed by a hearty laugh, but not from Chelsea. Turning around, I look over my right shoulder to see a boy around our age, waiting by the end of the counter for his order to be completed. The high contrast of his flowing dark hair and fair complexion is captivating, and a soft ocean blue shimmers in his kind eyes.

“Sorry,” He says earnestly, though he’s still smiling. I exhale a small laugh before replying,

“It’s okay. The argument was ridiculous to begin with,” throwing the pointed comment at Chelsea whose eyebrows raise in shock.

“Yeah. It is. So just give in already!”

“Oh my god. You see what I have to put up with?” I comment on her stubbornness, causing the stranger to laugh once more, and he nods knowingly.

“I feel that. He’s the exact same way,” he says, gesturing to the boy next to him. The comment causes him to turn around, light brown hair flipping with the sharp movement. His friend is cute and all but I find myself still enraptured in the first stranger’s eyes.

“Dibs.” I hear Chelsea softly whisper behind me in reference to the dark haired boy’s friend.

“I’m Y/n, by the way,” I say amicably to the first boy. He smiles softly and extends me his hand to shake.

“Jamie.” Jamie. “And this is Trevor.” Trevor reaches out to shake my hand also but I’m ushered away as Chelsea steps in. I hold in a laugh as best I can, shaking my head in an amused disbelief. Good for her.

“Chelsea. Nice to meet you guys.”

“Are you guys from Cali?” Trevor asks her to strike up conversation. 

“I am, but she isn’t. I take it you guys aren’t from here?”

“What gave me away?” Trevor squints with a laugh. Chelsea is visibly charmed and laughs along with him.

“No one from California calls it Cali,” I answer. Jamie laughs sheepishly, a soft blush creeping across his cheeks. He’s so cute.

“I’m from Toronto,” he replies simply and my ears perk up.

“Toronto’s nice. Are you hockey fans?” I ask, using some of the very little information I know about Canada. The two boys laugh and share a knowing glance.

“You could say that.” Trevor answers smugly. The comment strikes me as odd and I cross my arms defensively to jeer,

“Why are you laughing?”

“We play hockey professionally.” My lips part in a mild shock.

“And you make money doing that?” I ask, incredulously.

“You could say that.” Trevor shrugs and then asks Chelsea about the necklace she’s wearing, though it’s clear he’s only staring at her cleavage. Idiot. I return my attention to Jamie and smile.

“What do you like to do in your free time? Other than hitting on girls in smoothie shops.” Jamie laughs sheepishly once more. The raucous whirring of the juicers makes the shop a loud environment for conversation; he subconsciously steps closer to me to hear better. 

“Well, I was learning guitar for a little bit.”

“How’d that go?”

“Pretty terrible, not gonna lie.” Jamie and I laugh over the confession. 

“Did you learn any songs or just chords?”

“I tried to learn a song but it wasn’t going so well.”

“That’s a shame. What song?”

“In case you didn’t know by Brett Young.”

“In case you didn’t know,” I sing in the worst pseudo-country accent I could manage, “That one?”

Jamie laughs hard, nodding yes as his nose scrunches and his eyes fall closed. I laugh at his reaction, although I’m trying to hold it together. “Why are you laughing?” I feign ignorance and he laughs harder.

“Oh my god, that caught me so off guard.”

“What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

“That’s one way to put it. You’re cute.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” I fake challenge, crossing my arms over my chest as if I’m contemplating fighting him. Jamie merely pulls out his phone and hands it to me to text myself. It’s at this point that I have a moment to tune back in to Chelsea and trevor.

“Oh you’re doing numbers?” She comments from her vantage point and I laugh out of slight embarrassment.

“Maybe.” I say, playing coy to Chelsea, but I can tell Jamie’s taking me literally. “Here.”

Jamie takes the phone back to look at the sent message. In handing over the phone, the tips of his fingers brushed mine and the gesture ignites butterflies in my stomach. 

“Y/n,” He recites gently, smiling at the screen that displays the new text conversation. I bite back a smile at the sound of my name on his tongue, and nod softly. 

“Yo, Jimmy, we gotta go.” Trevor calls over the noise of the smoothie shop. He nods in acknowledgement before looking back at me with a small smile.

“I’ll text you?”

“Don’t forget it.”

***

A/n: this is just a little blurb but there's more to come. I have exams right now but once they're done I'll be back!

[queen-haq]

Fic: Never You (Polin) - Part 6

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV show)

Spoilers: S3 released scenes.

Summary: They may have been friends once but his callous words decimated their relationship. Determined not to have anything to do with him, Penelope is ready to move on. But Colin isn’t giving up, not at all. Friends or not, they are connected for life - and he intends to remind her of that.

Excerpt:

“You would hate me for not wanting to court you. You would be that selfish?”

“Of course you would think that.”

“What else is this if not punishment?”

Masterlist (contains links to previous parts and my other stories)

Chapter 6

Dearest Penny,

I hope this letter finds you well.

My journey home was perilous and took far too long. However, I did receive good news upon my arrival. Mother was awake in bed, the worst of her illness having passed recently. It will still take a few weeks but the doctor is confident she will recover fully. I have told her a lot about you. As I predicted, she is excited to meet you. 

I miss you. I remind myself it’s only a matter of time before we can start our new life together, full of adventure and laughter, but it still feels too long.

Once my affairs are settled, I will be traveling to London to see you. I know your Mama will not take kindly to me but I hope to win her over with my intelligence and wit (I’m envisioning the mocking smile on your lips as I write this).  If all else fails, I shall win her approval through jewelry, as you suggested. Hopefully that will alleviate her concerns about an untitled son-in-law.

Love,

Arthur.

Penelope read the letter again, smiling to herself. While she and Arthur could converse for hours, his letters tended to be short and to the point. And though they lacked a writer’s flair, his letters still felt distinctly like him and she appreciated that.

With other men she was shy and tongue-tied, and they were never interested in her anyway, but Arthur Debling had been different. At a dinner gathering in Ayleshire, it was he who had approached her, and once she got over her initial shyness the conversation flowed between them. Perhaps it was because he was a merchant and not a member of nobility, but from the very beginning he treated her with respect and a matter-of-fact stance rarely displayed by others. To him she wasn’t some woman in desperate hunt for a husband or an awkward, shy wallflower to be avoided at all times. She was Penelope Featherington and she was enough.

For the first few weeks there had been no romantic intentions, they simply talked of art and poetry. Over time she came to see he possessed a brilliant scientific mind that he went out of his way to hide. Only when she questioned him did he finally admit he was embarrassed of his intelligence and felt the need to dampen his curious mind from others. That was the first night she started to see him in a different light.

“Penelope!”

The sound of Mama's voice brought Penelope out of her reverie. After hiding the letter, she made her way toward her mother’s chamber in the opposite corner of the hallway. Portia was already dressed for bed and brushing her hair when Penelope entered the room. “Yes, Mama?”

The older woman cast her a quick glance in the mirror. “Lady Violet has invited us for tea tomorrow afternoon.”

Pen paused. Tea at the Bridgertons meant seeing Eloise and perhaps even Colin. “I will be in-”

“And before you come down with a sudden case of illness, I will remind you that personal invitations of this nature have been rare of late. We can not afford to turn down any, let alone the Bridgertons.”

Between the Marina scandal and then Cousin Jack, there were many who no longer wished to associate with the Featheringtons. While that was a relief for Pen, she knew the slow exclusion really hurt Portia even if she did hide the pain behind a mask of angry condescension.

“Yes, Mama. I understand.”

“Good. Now get some sleep, child. I will not have you looking haggard tomorrow.”

Penelope sauntered back to her chamber, her mind still reeling. No doubt Eloise would be present and angry with her. Would she at least pretend to be polite? Pen didn’t know. So far they had mostly avoided each other, except for the ball last week when Eloise had warned her to stay away from Colin.

After entering the chamber, she was busy locking the door when a noise startled her.

“Pen.”

Colin’s throaty growl made her gasp, her body suddenly taut.

Hesitant, she turned around.

It had been two days since she last saw him at the park. And now he was here in her chamber, shamelessly sitting at the edge of her bed. Hair tousled, clothes messy and disheveled, he stared at her intently. His face was unshaven, revealing a stubble growth of a day or two. Instead of taking away from his looks, however, it only emphasized his handsomeness more.  

Her heart started pounding in her chest, both from the anger that flooded through her veins and the knowledge that his hold upon her was still so potent. “How did you get in here?” she asked, keeping her voice steady so he couldn’t sense how much his presence unnerved her.

“I climbed up the tree and through the window.”

As if violating her privacy was a daily occurrence for him.

“You’re so very determined to ruin me, aren’t you?”

“I was careful. No one saw me.”

“Well, that makes it alright then.”

“I didn’t take you as the sarcastic sort, Pen.”

“Add it to the growing list of things you don’t know about me.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes locked with hers.

The silence between them grew more tense by the second while they held still, as if a single movement could ignite a fire that would burn them both.

And then he stood up. “Do you know why I’m here, Pen?”

There was a button missing from his waistcoat, dirt on his breeches, and he had never looked more beautiful than he did at that moment. Her heart flipflopped in her chest. “I don’t care. I simply want you to leave.”

A bitter smile shadowed his lips. “Because it’s that easy for you, isn’t it? You’ve moved on already.”

“Yes.” The strength in her voice surprised even her when all she felt was anxiety twisting up her insides. “It’s time you do the same.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried? That I’ve been trying?” Anger laced his words, hurt etched onto his face. “You don’t want to have anything to do with me yet I can’t imagine a single moment of my life without you. Why is that, Pen?”

With a slow and deliberate gait, he swaggered forward.

“Why can’t I stop thinking about you? Your voice, your smile, your taunts...” He tapped the side of his temple erratically, eyes heavy with emotion. “Always in my fucking mind, refusing to give me even one moment of peace. You’ve been torturing me!"

With every step that drew him closer, waves of madness surged through her body. She didn’t want to feel like this, like her mind and body were completely out of her control.

“Why is this happening to me, Pen?” His voice cracked. “Why do I feel this way?” He clutched his heart, his long, lean fingers rubbing the spot over his waistcoat repeatedly. “It didn’t used to be like this, I was fine before! But now I think about you leaving me and it’s like I can’t breathe. Like a part of me will be lost forever.”

Her eyes softened. The man standing in front of her wasn’t the one who broke her heart. In his place was her dear friend, the boy she had known her entire life and loved for as long, and he was pleading for her help. “That empty feeling will go away, Colin. I promise.” She took a furtive step toward him. “You’ve only just returned, your life probably feels untethered with everything changing around you. But give it time, let yourself settle in, and things will be better.”

He stopped in his tracks. “Nothing will ever be the same without you.”

“It will, I promise.” She sent him a sad smile. “You will meet someone beautiful and kind, and she will be everything you ever wanted. The true love of your life. And this sadness that you feel right now will become a distant memory.”

A beat of silence followed as he contemplated her words.

Would the agonizing pain that coursed through her at the thought of him with another woman ever lessen? She didn’t know. Maybe with time and distance she would be free of this curse, but for now he was still very much embedded in her soul and the eventual reality of him falling in love made her want to retch.

“Is that what you think will happen for you, Pen? You’ll marry this Arthur and make me a distant memory?”

There was no outward change in him yet she immediately sensed the shift within.

He cocked his eyebrow. “Do you think I will let that happen?”

She stared at him defiantly as he approached her. “You have no say in my life.”

“But I do, Pen.” The glint in his gaze sharpened, making his blue eyes appear even darker. “Because it’s me you’re in love with. It’s me you swore never to forsake.” He came to a stop in front of her, forcing her to look up at him. “I intend to hold you to that.”

Her anger returned. “And I intend to fight you. Because I will not sacrifice my future to appease your selfishness.”

“I know,” he sighed, regret looming over his face. “I should never have asked you to do that. But that’s why I’m here, Pen. I want to make things right between us.”

Her demand to know how died on her lips as soon as he retrieved something out of the pocket of his waistcoat. Stunned, she stood frozen as he held out an emerald ring, one she recognized right away from having seen Lady Violet wear it occasionally. 

“My father gifted this to my mother on their tenth anniversary.” There was reverence in his voice as he spoke. “I think he chose it especially for the colour. It’s remarkable, isn’t it?”

She swallowed, nodding. “Yes, it’s beautiful.”

“This has always been my favourite of mother’s jewelry. I knew one day I would gift it to my wife.”

Her mind went blank.

“And maybe now is that time.” He bent down on one knee in front of her, holding up the ring. “Will you marry me, Penelope Featherington?”

Time stopped.

For so long all she wanted was to be Colin’s wife. In her mind marrying him meant she would finally be happy and fulfilled. He would be the perfect husband, and she would be a member of the happy and loving Bridgerton family at last. All her dreams would finally be realized.

Except she wasn’t happy or even excited. The man she loved was on his knees, proposing to her, and all she could think about was how wrong it all felt. The proposal didn’t come from a place of love. No. Instead it was borne out of fear and a stubborn refusal to grow up. A last resort so he didn’t have to face losing their friendship.

Then there was Arthur. With him she didn’t have to hide, she could be who she truly was and not have to apologize for it. And she could continue to write, whether that be as Lady Whistledown, someone new or even herself, and do so without shame or regret.

Colin may have been her lifelong dream but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have new ones. And with Arthur, the life she wanted was within her grasp. A true possibility rather than simple fantasy.

Immediately she felt a sense of peace, knowing she was doing the right thing for herself.  “I’ve already said this to you before. I’m betrothed to another.”

In one fluid motion he slid the ring back into his pocket before rising to his full height. He had always towered over her but that had never intimidated her before. For the first time she felt a small twinge of fear percolating in her stomach, realizing the stark darkness on his face was also new.

He was quiet, too quiet, stalking her every move with his eyes, slowly pushing forward. A predator enjoying the rituals of the hunt, preparing his prey for the kill. Instinctively she retreated, moving back until the door lodged against her spine. He continued to move in, slowly but ferociously, invading every inch of her space until he was standing directly in front of her. She craned her neck to meet his stare, refusing to bow down.

“Is that a no, Penelope?”

She couldn’t think with him so close but she held strong. "Yes."

“Even though you’re in love with me and not fucking Arthur.” 

Maybe he thought throwing her love back in her face would embarrass her into submission but it had the opposite effect. Infuriated, she stood on her tiptoes to glare up at him. "So what? You think you can use my feelings to manipulate me?" She shook her head no. "I have dreams that matter to me far more than my love for you. And I will not jeopardize my chance to achieve them just for scraps of your attention."

Her words were meant to provoke his temper so he would withdraw. Instead his eyes softened as he hunched lower to look at her, his gaze roaming languidly over her face, a gentleness to them that made her insides dance with anticipation. She trembled when his hands cupped her cheeks while he studied every inch of her features, as if marking her in his memory. And then his thumb gently brushed over her pout, his dark blue eyes following the tremor of her lips, and all she could do was breathe slowly, tentatively, her heart drumming in her chest.

“I used to think you were the sweetest person I knew. Always so kind and agreeable,” he murmured, more to himself than her. “And easily forgotten.”

It hurt. Even though she had always known that that’s how people viewed her, if they bothered to see her at all - but to have him admit it was a different kind of pain. “Then forget me. Leave.”

He didn’t move, his gaze concentrated on her lips, thumb stroking left to right, right to left. “And now I can’t get this impertinent mouth of yours out of my head.”

It came as a shock when she realized Colin was hard, his erection pressed against her body. "You're aroused."

He met her eyes. “I’m aware.”

She swallowed audibly. “Why?”

Irritation surged through him. “You’re here, dressed in a robe with your beautiful hair down, talking to me, arguing with me, breathing around me, and you ask me why I’m aroused?” His hands slid down her body until they were at her waist, fingers curving into her sides as he pressed her tightly against him.

A faint gasp escaped her lips feeling his hardness.

“I want you, Pen,” was his raw, throaty plea. “I can’t stop.”

“Show me.” Her voice was firm, determined. “Show me how much you want me.”

To be contined...

A/N - Thank you for the support on this fic. Hope you're still enjoying it!

[prof-peach]

What's a happy adoption story that's occurred on the island? Conversely, what's one of the worst adoption attempts seen?

All adoption stories have a lot of joy in them for us at Dotaku, but I suppose one or two stand out.

We had a seemingly lost and quite old Mawile handed in to us, clear care put into their lifestyle, it's teeth were in good condition for its age, it had no illness, clear and soft skin, creeping joint aches but it was to be expected for the pokemon age, but it had no pokeball, so no trainer ID to return them to.

We expected someone to come for it, we even put out posters on the mainland to help find its trainer, but no one came forward. We eventually posed the topic of rehoming to the pokemon and it firmly refused, we did not bring it up again. This pokemon would sit every time people came off the boats at the dock as if waiting for someone, and each time would walk away dissapointed.

Five years passed, it had never given us trouble, was well behaved and kind in nature, even partook in plnety of island events with time, became one of the permanent fixtures here.

And then out of the blue, an old woman turned up with her grandson, visitors. We were made aware of the dimensia she was living with just in case she wandered off, and catered to it no problem. Staff report that she walked around without issue, enjoyed the grounds just line anyone else, until that is, she spotted this one Mawile, and the pokemon saw her, the two had a moment of recognition.

Theyre both in tears as soon as they reach eachother, the Mawile ran for this woman, we didnt know if it was hostile or not at first, but nope, there as a big hug shared and progressive tears. The grandson filled us in that his grandma use to have a partner but came from a village that just lived with pokemon, no balls, no fancy items, just a mutual choosing. But the Mawile had been stolen by a young trainer passing through years ago, with no pokeballs to stop the capture process, the boy assumed someone caught the pokemon and left with it, seperating the pair. It was kind of the one thing his Grandma would always look for in her later years, forgetting that she'd lost her beloved partner, becoming increasingly worried repeatedly as her illness worsened over the years. It caused a lot of grief.

we can only assume the pokemon got free or released, and was handed in to the island as a "difficult case" due to its reluctance to listen to others.

The woman went home with her pokemon, reunited after 5 long years apart, it brought a tear to plenty of the staff's eyes thats for sure.

On the opposing end we've had plenty of shady folk come in and try to adopt from us, but theres a few measures we put in place when were suspicious. I dont discuss the security precautions we apply in these cases to hide the pricess and keep the pokemon and staff safe here.

Despite this, one or two slip the net on rare occasion, it happens, were not perfect. One that stays with me was a woman who came in to look for a partner, making all the best attempts to charm a quite fantastic little Treeko, a rare variant with fantastic leopard markings. She was forthright and seemed ordinary, we went through our regular security checks and nothing came up on her ID, figured it was a fine match. So she went through the process of adopting, staff saw no red flags. I kick myself now, if i'd been around her with Val we could have stopped this, but i'd been too busy with other jobs to oversee that particular case.

She leaves with the pokemon, and we're none the wiser, but anyone who knows us, knows we do home visits after adoption to make sure a pokemon is happy and well. usually 3 within the year. Some of our staff turn up to an abandoned building, no pokemon, no people, nothing. The hunt began, Grey was quick to try to see if the pokemons ID had been pinged at any pokecentres, but nothing came up. We kept looking, and called in some favours at the local ranger bases and police stations to watch.

Eventually someone spots the woman in question, two regions over in Hoenn, selling eggs. She got pulled over for trafic violations while driving and got flagged. I went over personally to see what was going on, and turns out she was illegally breeding rare species to sell for huge money. The treeko was in BAD condition by this point, we took it back along with two dozen or so eggs, another Sceptile, and a pair of shroomish with unsual patterns that were on their last legs. She was taken to court for cruelty charges and served time.

The pokemon however were fine in the end, took some time to rehabilitate them, but they still hang around the island, that experience was traumatic for them so they choose to stay with us for saftey sake. We have no issues with this, and have since tightened our security checks. The womans trainer ID was a fake, a really convincing one, we messed up. It's cases like that that'll push us to all do better however, we learned a lot, and hold onto those failures to push forward in a better way.

Just glad the pokemon survived and are now healthy and happy.

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

Five-Finger Discount (Dean/Reader)

Title: Five-Finger Discount

Characters/Pairing: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Dean x Female Reader

Summary: It's supposed to be a simple case. A little undercover. A little burglary. A little spell. Dash of salt and burn. No muss, no fuss. So, why the hell are you getting these uncontrollable thoughts about Dean's... hands?

Word Count: 10,300

Tags: Hand & Finger Kink, Dean Winchester is a Scoundrel, Dean gets a Manicure, Fluff and Humor, Shameless Smut of the Finger Variety, Dean Winchester Talks Dirty

Notes: Because Jensen just can’t keep his hands to himself. See notes on AO3 for the offender/crime in question.

A persistent tapping on your bedroom door awakens you. It could be late evening or early morning in the windowless bunker.

Before you can check your phone for the actual time, Dean’s voice calls your name from the other side of the door.

You groan. Whatever time it is, it’s not ‘wakey wakey eggs and bakey’ time. “What?”

“Got word from Sam. He’s figured out what’s been killing the inmates in NSP.”

You sit up and feel for the lamp switch. After a turn and snick , you mumble, “Let there be light.” Your voice raises in answer to Dean. “That’s great.”

“Well, not that great.” The conversation is still happening through the closed door. “Sam figures it’s a ghost of a prisoner that died behind bars in 1870.”

“Why not great? Did you want more of a challenge? Ghosts are a milk run.”

You can hear the dramatic sigh, picture the tilt back and forth of his head, and the way his mouth mimics either you or Sam when the sarcasm leans on the excessive. Which is kind of ironic coming from the King of Snark. “Can I come in? You decent?”

“Yes.”

It’s definitely the middle of the night when you get a look at him. Dean’s hair is mussed. There are cheek and chin creases from scuba pillow diving when he sleeps on his stomach. “You got something formal to wear?”

“Huh?”

“A gown, dress, something promish or wedding worthy?”

“Promish?” That question reply to his question earns you a broad stance with hands on hips like a superhero as Dean stares you down. You twirl both hands around to remind him of the non-existent storage space in the bunker. Which should not be a thing in such a huge fortress where men dressed in three piece suits on the daily. “Sure. I have a whole rack of them hanging in my walk-in closet.”

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, smart ass. Well, we’re gonna have to go do this thing in less than twenty-four hours that needs you in a dress and me in a tux.”

You suck in your lips and try not to laugh at how pissed Dean appears at the thought.

“It’s a charity fundraiser in Lincoln,” he continues. “We have to act like a couple of out-of-state spenders with deep pockets to get our hands on the Hand of Glory that belonged to this ghost.”

“What about Sam? I bet he’d look much better in a dress than I would.”

Dean shrugs. “He’s got the hair for it. But we can’t risk somebody making him.”

Of course. The one time Sam goes investigating on his own. He posed as an FBI agent and poked around too many people. 

You and Dean are going to have to go shopping. The all-out kind. Max out a stolen credit card at the mall kind.

Dean is gonna be miserable. You can’t wait. Grumpy Dean, for some reason, is very entertaining.

“How about you in the dress and me in the tux?” you offer.

“I don’t have the legs for it.” Dean shakes his head. “Get a few more hours of sleep. Gonna be a busy day.”

You’ve been around Sam and Dean for a long time. Long enough to have gotten a little numb and even blase regarding certain things.

The dangers of a hunt. The stench of death. The amount of blood a beheaded vamp body can ooze.

As you tick the tasks off for the heist with a trip to a dress shop earlier and currently helping Dean pick out a tux, another thing you’ve become indifferent to smacks you right in the goddamn face.

The hotness of the Winchester brothers.

You were talking with the owner of the suit store when Dean parted the curtains of the fitting booth he’d been in for five minutes.

And there it was, dressed to the nines, cutting a fine figure in a black tuxedo. 

The plain as day fact of how unfucking-believably gorgeous Dean Winchester is.

Stephen, well-dressed and highly animated, claps hands in front of his face. “Oh. Wow, that is, it’s like you stepped right off the cover of GQ magazine,” he gushes at Dean. “Turn around, turn around.”

Dean blushes, spins on his heels, and averts your and Stephen’s gaze. You’re glad because you can feel the warmth racing over your own cheeks.

“Sir, that is screaming perfection. I don’t even think it needs to be taken in. It’s like a second skin.” You’d think Stephen was buttering him up for a sale if he was overexaggerating. But, he wasn’t.

“Well, good, cause it’s not like we’ve got time for a tailor,” Dean huffs. Then, you hear, “You’re awfully quiet. What do you think?”

“I-yeah-it’ll do.”

After Dean swipes the key card, he steps aside and lets you pass the threshold first.

“Holy shit,” you whisper.

The suite is swanky. No motels for you on this trip. You’ve got to keep up appearances, after all.

Windows that meet the ceiling give you a sweet view of downtown Lincoln. It’s not the New York skyline, but everything looks impressive from a higher vantage.

Dean pushes the squeaky luggage cart. The door clicks closed solidly behind him. “Alright. We got a few hours to get ourselves presentable. Then we head on over to the Sheldon Museum of Art.” He hangs the garment bags containing his tux and your dress in the closet. The duffle bags each get a chuck onto the king-size bed.

You nod at the reminder. Sam will be at the fundraiser as well. Between the ruse of you and Dean as the wealthy Mitchums from Kansas and Sam’s Agent Dion, you’re confident the case will be resolved before another not-so-innocent victim dies. “Too bad we can’t really enjoy a stay at a place like this.”

“Eh, overpriced. I can’t wait to get home to the bunker. It’s a lot nicer.” He rolls the cart back toward the door. “I’ll be back in a few.”

He’s gone before you can quibble with Dean over your and his idea of luxury. But yours does have windows, excessive amounts of pillows, and room service.

Dean returns to find you’ve commandeered the entire vanity counter with makeup. He chuckles. “Never seen you put any of this crap on before. Do you even know how?”

“Asshole.” You thwack his tummy, but clenched stomach muscles anticipated the retaliation. “I’ll wear makeup for this case out of necessity. I don’t believe in going into debt to keep up with the latest beauty trend. This stuff costs a fortune.”

Dean picks up a packet of press-on nails and looks at the price tag. “Well, hopefully, it’s all worth it.”

As Dean inspects your haul, you notice the dirt under his own nails. “Your hands,” you state.

“Huh?” Dean’s brow furrows. He puts down the box and stares at his fingers.

“Those aren’t the hands of a millionaire.”

He smiles. “I’ve got a great rags to riches story I can use. You see, one day I was shootin’ at some food, and up for the ground came a bubblin’...”

“Ooor, you can look the part.” You cut off his recounting of how the Beverly Hillbillies came to be and sweep a hand in his direction. “Hurry up and shower. I’ll do your nails.”

His eyes bug out. “Do my nails?”

“Relax. Just gonna tidy them up. No polish. Although there’s nothing wrong with a little color on a guy’s nails. But maybe not for this event. We don’t need you to stand out too much.” You think about how he looked in that tux and realize how much he will stand out already at least in your mind. He’s still blinking at you, processing what’s about to happen. “Well, hurry up, Jeb. That oil ain’t gonna find itself.”

You gulp at the sight of a freshly scrubbed, washed, towel-dried Dean. It shouldn’t be affecting you like this. You’ve seen him just out of a shower with his white t-shirt and sweatpants when you’ve been hunting on the road.

Maybe it’s the change of scenery. No motel. No mildew smells. No obnoxiously loud wallpaper to mask the soot and stains. No revving engines or wheels peeling right outside the door. None of the things that usually overwhelm and distract your senses.

His entire face is scrunched up in confused awe. Tools are neatly lined atop a towel on the small island by the kitchenette. Not the usual gun-cleaning ones, though. You clear your throat and pat the breakfast stool beside your seated frame.

“Is this gonna hurt?” he asks.

“Just a little detailing is all.”

He sits and eyes you warily.

A gimme gesture requests his left hand. He provides it, resting his fingers over the bridge of support yours creates. You try not to flinch in surprise at the warmth and weight. It’s not like you’ve never touched him before. But, you’ve never had the opportunity for contact to linger.

You lean down and in, lifting his fingers in inspection and deciding your plan of attack. Damn. They’re, well, you wonder how you haven’t noticed how big they are. His entire hand dwarfs yours in comparison. Dean’s a big dude. He is not as tall as Sam, but considering they’re both over six feet, you shouldn’t be surprised that his digits are substantial. You picture Sam’s hands in your mind’s eye in the usual situations. Tapping away on a keyboard. Flipping through their dad’s journal pages or some gigantic volume of lore in the bunker. Those fingers are long, but their slender and taut, proportionate to Sam’s body type and size. Jolly Green Giant size.

Dean’s? Well, it’s not that they don’t match Dean. They’re beefy, thick, and solid. All the things Dean is. But they’re more like a jumbo sausage sandwich than a hot dog that’s a little too big for the bun. Even the width of his palm seems way above average.

“What’s wrong?” Dean’s question calls out and you wonder how long you’ve been staring at his freaking hands.

“Nothing,” you mumble.

You get to work, using a nail brush that’s been soaking in a bowl of warm, sudsy water. A sturdy grip wraps around two of Dean’s fingers - it’s all you can comfortably manage - and the bristles scrub back and forth in quick passes.

Dean chortles. His fingers pull back slightly. The look on his face is one of surprise. You grin and ask, “Did that tickle?”

He snorts. “What? No. I’m not ticklish.”

“Mm-hmm.” You tug his fingers toward the brush. “Hold still then.” You continue the process. Dip the brush in the water bowl. Play Dean’s fingers like a washboard. And you delight in how his jaw clenches and body squirms. He does an adorable shimmy shake that starts at the shoulders and ends with an ass cha-cha. But you only let the torture go on for a minute or two. “Okay. Give them another wash. Then we’ll clip ‘em, file and buff, and these nails will scream private prep school and ivy league polo.”

He rises. “As long as there’s no more brushing.” He punctuates how serious he is about that with one of those fingers right at your mouth.

You swallow the urge to bite that finger.

For someone who was uncertain about the thought of a manicure earlier, Dean is back in a hurry to continue the process. You exaggeratedly shake the nail brush out of the soapy water bowl and softball it into the stainless steel sink a yard away. It clangs about like a noon bell. You raise both hands, “I’m unarmed.”

He snickers, “Not so sure.” He skirts his gaze over the remaining items. “Sharp and stabby things.”

“You have used clippers before. You’re not an actual Cro-Magnon that drags knuckles on the ground and runs nails along some flint.” You grab one stool and carry it to the other side of the island, settling into position for the next step. “Sit and stop acting like a baby.”

“Damn,” he murmurs, following orders and taking his seat from before.

“Hands,” you request.

He harrumphs and splays his fingers atop the terry towel, like a cat stretching and digging in with their claws. His hands are creamy colored and speckled pink from the washing and scrubbing. Ten digits tap along the cloth in wait. And you stare, longer than you should.

What in the holy hell is going on? They’re fingers for chrissakes. The same fingers you’ve seen on Dean all the time, day after day in the bunker or in the car or on a hunt. It’s not like he got a hand transplant or something.

“Come on, Madge.” Dean snaps two of those fingers together. “This is where you’re supposed to tell me I was soaking in it.”

“Huh?”

He rolls his eyes. “Softens hands while you do the dishes?” He adds to the dramatics and unhinges his jaw. “Come on, we’re the same age. You gotta remember that commercial? Palmolive?”

“Oh, right.” You feign recollection, inhale to steady yourself and grab his left hand. It’s down to business time. “I’ve only lost five of my last six clients. Nothing to worry about.”

“Quite the comedian,” he razzes back.

“I am. Apparently you could learn a thing or two from me. The first? A punchline isn’t funny if you have to explain it.”

“Yeah, well…” He begins.

“Maybe come at me with ‘your face is a punchline’?” you suggest.

His lids blink in confusion. “It’s not, though.”

For some reason that shuts you both up.

You spend the next minutes manipulating each of Dean’s fingers, one by one in your palm as you clip. Tick, tick, tick. You give the nails a nice straight edge and round out the sides. His nails are stumpy, boxy and twice the width of yours. His skin is calloused, toughened in the spots you expect. From the thousands of hours he’s gripped Baby’s steering wheel, handled a shotgun, cranked a wrench, slid into the trigger of his Colt. But they are soft in other spots. The patterns of lines criss crossing and connecting like a terrain map enthrall you.

He’s quiet. Watching you work. You’ve forgotten to be mouthy for this bit. It’s hard to focus on anything but this and his breathing. You’ve forgotten the basic steps of inhaling and exhaling.

It’s when you’ve moved on to filing that Dean remembers how to word. “You’re good at this.”

“I should be,” you croak out then clear your throat. “I did my older sister’s nails all the time growing up.”

“Hm, I guess Sammy didn’t get the little brother memo about doing my nails.”

I grin up at him. “Maybe you should have had him watch that Palmolive commercial.”

His laugh is soft. His eyes gleam with that hint of mischief he dons when there is no imminent threat. When life is as close to normal as possible. You wonder what it would be like to take those hands and place them around your waist. Guide him to hold you steady, secure.

He opens his mouth, stops to lick his top lip.

It’s taking everything in your power to not catapult over the island and slam your lips against his.

He finally speaks. “We should get ready.”

And your daydreaming dissipates just like that.   

Two hours later, you and Sam wait outside the St. Charbel Chapel in Calvary Catholic Cemetery. It’s the closest church and holy ground from the museum Sam had found in his research.

A fire truck zooms down a nearby street, siren wailing.

You wait for Dean. 

Things had not gone according to plan.

At the fundraiser, Sam got cornered near the crudités by a Lancaster County Sheriff’s Office deputy. From what you overheard, Sam’s cover had been blown. He was in imminent danger of being arrested by Deputy Dickens for impersonating a federal agent. Dean was off in one of the acquisition storage rooms searching for the Hand of Glory.

You all were SOL.

You did what any hunter interested in self-preservation would do. Walked over to the nearest fire alarm and inconspicuously pulled the lever. Alarms went off. In the chaos of disgruntled partygoers filing out of the building, Sam dropped the deputy to the ground with a combo shoulder check and leg sweep. You were down on the floor in a flash, asking the lawman if he was alright. Before he could reply, you held a handkerchief doused with your travel-size bottle of chloroform to his mouth and nose. A clutch could only hold so much—such an inconvenience.

Sam pushed the passed-out deputy under the appetizer station’s floor-length tablecloth. You both did a hurried power walk past the crowd gathered in front of the museum. Sam tried his best to slow down his stride enough for you to keep up wearing heels. At least you only had four blocks to cover to end up at the cemetery, the agreed-upon meetup location.

You pace in wait. “He’ll be here,” Sam states with conviction.

You never want to leave a man behind. Especially not Dean.

Sure enough, Dean’s shadowed figure jogs up the cemetery walk in the dark minutes later. You recognize his panting first.

Sam shines a light in Dean’s direction. He’s a bit disheveled from whatever he had to do to skip out of the museum undetected. The hair, styled in a neat part earlier, is now askew.

“Guessing I have you two to thank for having to hop out a bathroom window and into thorny rose bushes.”

You shrug. “Sam was about to get handcuffed.”

Dean ponders for a moment. “Context is important to determine whether that’s good or bad for Sam.”

“Dean, come on, did you get it?” Sam asks with an impatient wave of his hand.

Dean pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and flaps it open with a wrist snap. He pulls out a gnarled, desiccated object under his jacket's lapel. “I did get it, using my five-finger discount.”

The burning ritual had at least gone smoother than the rest of the evening. Sam dropped the two of you around the back of the hotel in his rental car. You both had left Baby in the connected garage and taken a cab to the museum. 

“See you all at the bunker.” He smiles, energized, and pumped from a successful hunt. He’s glowing and adorable. You realize you have gotta dial back the internal ogling of your hunting partners and quick or it’s gonna get all kinds of uncomfortable in your head.

“See ya, Sammy.” Dean grins and salutes.

“Don’t take too long to get out of town.” Sam advises, flicks his bangs out of his eye line with a shampoo commercial head whip, then peels off with a wave.

The key card lets you sneak in through the poolside.

The ride up the elevator starts quiet. You spend the time zoning out and staring at the tapered triangle of shoulder and back that makes up Dean’s tuxedo jacket.

So, dialing back the ogling is going great.

“You looked really good tonight,” Dean murmurs. You catch his gaze in the door’s reflective surface. “I mean,” he clears his throat, “you still look really good. I never got the chance to tell ya earlier.”

The attention straightens your posture. You adjust the spaghetti strap of your little black dress. “Thanks.” It’s all you can think of to respond. You tear your focus away from the eye crinkles, now the newest sexy thing you’ve failed to notice. It’s safer to inspect the corners of the floor for dust. The small enclosed space heats due to Dean Winchester occupying it.

The elevator dings and you hold in a sigh of relief. You exit first, then halt so he leads. You trail behind him in silence to the room. He opens the door. Your steps scoot past his body.

“Got time to change?” Hopeful, you’re already rifling through your duffel for your jeans and flannel.

“Sam’s right. We should probably bolt.”

You groan.

“Let’s put some miles between us and Lincoln.” It’s not really a suggestion.

“Fine.” You give in, knowing he’s right.

You aren’t tired on the drive back. The sense of accomplishment after a successful case turns most hunters into live wires, you included. 

You and Dean have been chatting about the hunt. The lackluster food at the fundraiser. Sam’s impressive Latin skills. An apparent millionaire whose breath stunk like a month old convenience store burrito. And you knew what one of those smelled like from unfortunate firsthand experience. The conversation switches to some repairs that need to be done around the bunker. A casserole recipe on Pinterest you want to try. Who’s going to get the treat of washing all the MOL classic cars in the garage. The topics pogo all over the place. You love these moments with the brothers. 

You’re an hour and some change out from Lincoln, halfway to Lebanon, when Dean has an idea.

His finger wags at a mile marker. “There’s a decent bar in Bruning. Wanna grab a drink to celebrate?”

You stare at his unbuttoned tux jacket, then your dress. “Like this?”

“Sure. Why not?” It’s not really a question as he takes the exit.

You drew the line at wearing heels in the bar. Dean grabbed your worn cowboy boots from Baby’s trunk. He leaned against the car beside your open passenger door. You tugged on boots, leaned forward, giving any passersby a free show down the front of your dress. Arms folded, Dean scowled and puffed out his chest to any male who dared to glance in your direction.

A minute later you both entered the bar and did the usual routine without speaking. Head to respective bathrooms. Clean up and make yourselves respectable looking. But as you blotted your foundation and appreciated the staying power of your makeup in the mirror - okay, maybe that setting spray was worth the price - you considered who you were making yourself respectable for?

It’s not like either one of you were expecting to get lucky tonight. The bunker was less than two hours away. No one was gonna pick up a local and take them back to their motel room.

You applied a fresh coat of red berry lipstick.

So, that left only you and Dean freshening up for… each other?

You scoffed at the ridiculous idea, ran fingers through your hair.

A drink. One drink. To celebrate a job well done.

“That’s all it is,” you mumble.

You’ve played darts for an hour. Dean’s on his third whiskey. You’ve downed four fruity rum concoctions, mainly because you loved hearing Dean order the drink. 

Entertainment was the least he could do after beating you for the sixth time.

The waitress stops at your high top and grabs the empty plates and glasses. “What else can I get you two?”

Dean clutches a dart, deep in focus, squinting at the target board. “You wanna nother Bahama Mama?”

You suppress a giggle and smile at the waitress. “Just more water. Thanks.”

“We should probably load up on the grease before we head home.” Dean peers at the waitress over a shoulder. “Maybe some fries, darlin’, to go along with one last shot of whiskey?”

“Sure thing, sugar.” She smiles, then waits for Dean to turn around before eyeing his backside in approval. With a grin, she taps your bare forearm. “Lucky you,” she whispers.

You are lucky. But not for the reason the waitress thinks. Being around Sam and Dean means safety and security. The eye candy is merely a bonus. One you are debating if you should indulge in more often or continue to restrict your caloric intake.

After all, there’s nothing wrong with appreciating a work of art.

Dean had flung his necktie in Baby’s backseat and unbuttoned his collar during the drive. The casual way he now wore the tux was even more attractive. “Probably a good idea if you lay off the alcohol. It’s definitely affecting your game tonight.” He grins.

You lean your heavy weighted head against a palm for support. “Yeah, must b’it,” you slur, more than you like. Your gaze zones in on his fingers gripping the dart. Those damn fingers have been a distraction all night. He has to be unaware he’s sabotaging any ability to focus. Dean is an outright flirt with his targets. You’ve seen him lay on the charm thick and sticky the same way he slaps peanut butter and jelly on white bread. Subtlety has never been his thing.

Speaking of targets. The dart launches out of his hand and lands dead center. “That’s what I’m talkin’ bout.” Dean performs the ka-ching motion for what feels like the hundredth time that night. Normally, it’s annoying, but you battle your lids open to stare at his clenched fist in awe. Again. He slides onto the bar stool and inspects you with a concerned smile. “You usually drink me under the table. Sure you’re okay?”

“Fine.” You hum. 

The waitress whizzes by and deposits Dean’s shot and a basket of fries. Dean’s voice floats in the air expressing his thanks to, you think he says, Linda. Then a pointed order hits you right in the face. “Hey, eat something. I ain’t carrying you to the car like some swoony duchess on those shows you binge.”

“They’ve got carriages, not cars.” You blink over and over and straighten up. A handful of fries fill your mouth. Your brain hasn’t caught up in time to tell you to shut up and chew. “Yud make a ghood ake.”

“What?” Dean smiles at you like he’s happened across his favorite Scooby-Doo episode while channel surfing.

You gulp down the gluey mashed goodness. “You’d make a good rake.”

“What’s that? Some kind of man servant? I was a handmaiden once.” He indulges in some of the fries before you eat them all. Those fingers push them past his lips.

“No. A rake’s-” You huff at the gall when he attentively licks the grease off his thumb. His tongue is quite, um, “Nimble.”

He frowns, obviously confused. “A rake’s nimble?”

You shake out the cobwebs in your brain, tripping you up with a collision of thoughts. “A rake’s a ladies’ man,” you mutter.

His spine stiffens, shoulders pop back in pride. “I do try to please the ladies every chance I get.”

“We are all well aware.” More fries thankfully save you from saying anything that may humiliate.

“Guess those aren’t your favorite characters. You probably like the stuffy types that are all serious, with their noses up in the air or stuck in a book.”

You shrug. “Nah, I go for the rogues.”

One of Dean’s brows quirk up. “The dangerous type?” One side of his mouth lifts as well.

“Yeah, a scoundrel. You know, the one you can’t quite figure out. They’ve got this bad reputation or some sordid past. But, they go after what they want. Take what they want.” You hum again and close your eyes. You can still see Dean’s grin in your mind’s eye.

“Too bad I don’t fit the bill.”

You freeze. Eyes still closed. He didn’t just… did he?

“I mean. It’d be all kinds of wrong. Me going for something I wanted, damn the consequences.”

You inhale and grip the curve of the table top. You open your eyes to find him sipping at his whiskey. “Don’t fuck with me,” you whisper.

He gives you a toe curling smile now. The glass clinks onto the table. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m not your type.”

“I-wh-” It’s too late. You’ve never been on the receiving end of what is most definitely Dean Winchester flirting. “What makes you think that?”

He leans in. His breath meets your inhale and you take in all the spice and warmth. “I wouldn’t do a thing to mess this up. Not unless, you know, I knew.”

You nod, dumbstruck. “Yeah, that makes sense. I mean, yeah.” A whoosh of fatigue makes your head spin.

Dean smiles. “We live together, hunt together. Packed like sardines together twenty-four seven sometimes. Wouldn’t want to mess any of that up. Unless I knew, you know?”

“Knew what?” Your chin drops to your chest despite your best efforts. The weight of your body gets ready to do a face plant on the table top. You squish your lids shut tight and groan in horror at the inevitable.

But, Dean is there to save you. Again. His fingers swoop in to cradle your jaw and lift up your head. The embarrassment and alcohol finally overtake you. As you fade, you hear, “Maybe I’ll tell you when you’ll remember the answer.”

You woke up in your bed, back at the bunker. Again, with no idea if it was morning or night. No idea how much time had passed since…

You spring upright to sit. And, yeah, that was a mistake. Your head pounds. Your mouth is dry and tacky. Your stomach feels like it got turned upside down. Not that much time has passed since…

You groan and lay back down, slow and gentle. You piece the last snippets of memory together.

You stare up at the ceiling, grateful for the darkness. You want it to suck you up whole.

Did you pass out in the middle of Dean hitting on you? Did Dean end up swooping you up and putting you in the Impala? Driving you home passed out in the back seat - or God forbid the front passenger seat with you lolling about, mouth probably open and drooling - then carrying you throughout the bunker to your bedroom? Did he…?

You pat your chest and feel the spaghetti straps and silky fabric of your little black dress. You sigh. He had taken pity on you and only stripped you of your cowboy boots.

There’s a soft tap on your bedroom door.

“Oh no.” You pull the blanket over your head, mortified. You don’t think you can face him.

But it’s not Dean that says your name. It’s Sam.

“You alright? I heard you… uh… moaning.”

“Yeah,” you squeak. “Hungover.”

You think you hear Sam snicker. “Dean said you outpaced him by a mile. In darts and drinks.”

That makes you pause to recall. No, you definitely don’t think any of that’s accurate.

“He made some breakfast before he went out, if you’re hungry.”

Great, he can’t bear to face you, either. “Thanks, Sam.”

“If you’re up for it later, I could use some assistance researching.”

You take a measured breath to quell the nausea. “I’ll let you know.”

You’d chewed some aspirin and drank glass after glass of water from the sink in your room and somehow passed out for a few more hours.

You drag yourself out of bed around noon and shower in an effort to resemble something close to human. The stomach growls lead you to the bunker kitchen. At first, you smile at the plate of pancakes Dean covered with a clean kitchen towel for you. A frown follows at the odd shape of them. They aren’t his usual silver dollar pancakes stacked six high.

You tilt your head, attempting to figure out what Buttermilk Banksy was trying to create. The two pancakes, side by side on a large plate, obviously started out as circles. But then, four long tendrils were added along the top of each and a little offshoot one on the side. A turkey? Why the hell would Dean make turkeys? It wasn’t anywhere near Thanksgiving time.

“‘Bout time, sleepy head.” Dean’s voice wafts in from the doorway. He strolls in without a care in the world. There’s no hesitancy to lock eyes with you. Which is good. That has to mean you didn’t make more of a fool of yourself than you remember. He tugs on the fridge door. “Do you want something else or those pancakes enough?” He’s asking the interior of the refrigerator more than you, his head circling the shelves. “Was gonna pile on the grease but thought you might need to take it easy after last night.”

“No, this is great. Thank you.” You keep your voice low, hoping he’ll get the hint and not make too much noise.

He seems to, clicking the door shut softly after grabbing a cold slice of pizza. “Oh, I thought we’d do a movie night in the Dean cave. I bought angus ground beef for burgers. I’ll make some potato wedges. Grabbed your favorite microwave popcorn, movie theater butter.”

The menu, miraculously, doesn’t make your stomach lurch into panicked somersaults. “None of that sounds Sam approved.”

“He’s got that author signing book store thing in Stockton tonight.”

Oh, right. You’d forgotten for a moment how excited Sam was to listen to some guy read a chapter from his book on the evils of the Federalist Society.

“Think you’ll be up for it?” Dean asks, brows raised hopeful.

You smile. “I think I will.”

“Good.” He captures a third of the pizza slice in one bite. After four chews and a swallow he finishes with, “I’ll go easy on you.” The grin he flashes catches you off guard. It’s that one that if Sam saw it, he’d suspect you and Dean had a secret.

Problem was, you didn’t know what the secret was.

“We got weapons to clean in an hour. No matter what Sam says about research.” Dean taps the door sill on the way out of the kitchen. “Meet you in the library. Don’t be late.” He disappears.

You stare down at your breakfast, which is now technically lunch, and a queasy feeling erupts. But not from the hangover or the thought of eating.

The pancakes Dean made. You think you know what the shapes are now.

A pair of hands.

Time in the library with Sam and Dean is pure torture. 

You’re sat equidistant between the two of them, in the middle of one of the long massive wooden tables. Sam is on one end, flipping through page after page of a volume on corporal punishment. He’s trying to work out an easy cheat sheet - a work flow chart - that you all can use in the future. If you can identify what crime someone was charged with committing way back when, you’d have a better idea of the dismembered mummified appendage to track.

Dean occupies the other head of the table. A worn cloth laid out in front of him, all manner of weapons lined in a neat row atop it, awaiting his hands.

His hands. God, you hope the pancakes were merely a cheeky, inside joke on Dean’s part. Maybe it was a reminder about your insistence on the manicure. Or the friggin’ Palmolive commercial that, thanks Dean, you can’t get out of your head either. Because now all you can think about is Dean’s massive fingers dipped in a teeny tiny glass bowl filled with sudsy dish detergent. 

Between Sam’s page turns and Dean’s clink of weapons your brain can’t settle or calm down. You’re also trying to appease both hunters. You’re reading through a book on your right and sharpening a machete on your left. 

“That jugglin’ act might leave you with more than a paper cut if you aren’t careful,” Dean chides.

You swallow down the urge to quip something back. It’s only when the whetstone clears the curve of the machete and halts at the tip that you tear your gaze from the task and stare at Dean. “I can handle it.”

He smirks. “Oh, I’m sure you can HANDle it.” He shrugs. “Just wouldn’t want you to lose a FINGER.”

“How about you quit distracting her? She’s doing you a favor.” Sam’s brows lift pointedly at Dean. “And besides, why do you insist on cleaning weapons here when you could literally be doing it anywhere else in the bunker?”

Dean curls up the fakest smile at Sam. “Cause I love your company.” 

The boys settle after a few more grunts and scoffs at each other. You plunge nose deep into lore and wish the pages were waves pulling you out to sea. 

There’s no way Dean’s emphasis on “hand” and “finger” were accidental. Dean’s pretty intuitive. But you are a pretty good actor in your own right when you need to be. However, there’s still a chance that you said or did something when you were too intoxicated to remember.

It’s not helping that Dean’s performing his weapon cleaning like a goddamn seduction. Mr. Hand Model takes apart the sawed off, cleans the inside of and around the barrel, reassembles, and clicks all the pieces back into place. His nails look perfect, shiny and slick with the gun oil. His beefy fingers curl around the wood and steel in a way that makes you want to trade places with the firearm.

You somehow endure for 45 minutes. Last night’s indulgences are blamed in an excuse to head back to your bedroom. As you preemptively wish Sam an enjoyable outing later, Dean reminds you to rest up for dinner and a movie.

Ugh. You know how Dean gets when he won’t let something go that he finds hilarious. This could go on for a while.

It’s a trap. It’s gotta be.

Dean’s lowering your defenses with good food and good company.

It all started in the kitchen where dinner was served. He wasn’t kidding about the burgers. He made quarter pound medium rare works of art with cheese and all the toppings. The bun was Texas Toasted out. The guy even used the air fryer to produce ridiculously addicting potato wedges with a spicy paprika and chili powder coating.

Then, it was Dean cave time. No beer in sight, you were given pop to drink, with an offhanded “no repeat performance of last night” remark. You slid down the couch, groaning, pulling the hoodie over your face for dramatic effect. He grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl sitting between you on the couch and added, “You know, so you don’t pass out midway through the movie.”

You inhale the buttery goodness beside you and relax, popping back up in your seat. A swig of sugar wakes up your lethargic post-meal brain and settles the nerves that Dean is up to something. “So, what masterpiece do you have for us tonight?” you query.

He presses a button on one remote and the lights dim. Another remote in hand, another button press, and the television screen blares with an all too familiar soundtrack.

“The Empire Strikes Back.” You nod. “Good choice.”

“It’s your favorite one,” Dean reminds you.

“Yeah. Yoda. Duh.”

Dean chuckles.

Things fall into that easy going movie commentary that you and Dean are so fond of doing. It drives Sam crazy when he's watching stuff with the two of you. You’re spouting behind the scenes facts you know you’ve told Dean a half a dozen times already (like how the puppeteer who’s voicing Yoda also voices your favorite muppet, Fozzie Bear). Dean adds his own sound effects when the AT-ATs are firing, points out every Wilhelm scream, and helps Harrison Ford out by quoting all of Solo’s lines.

Leia is fixing some equipment on the Falcon and you comment, “I like the braid updo more than the cinnamon rolls.”

“Eh, I don’t know. The combo of beauty and baked goods is pretty hard to beat.”

Solo walks in and tries to help. Leia pushes him away. You sigh. “Here they go.”

Dean turns to you and raises an eyebrow. In perfect sync with Solo’s dialogue he utters, “Hey Your Worship, I’m only trying to help.”

You eye roll. “Would you please stop calling me that?” If it's a quote battle Dean wants, it’s on. If Sam were here, he’d be so done with the both of you right now.

“Sure, Leia.”

A huff for good measure. “You make it so difficult sometimes.”

Dean leans in. “I do, I really do. You could be a little nicer, though. Come on, admit it. Sometimes you think I’m all right.”

Wait. Wait. Oh no. You don’t have to be looking at the screen to know what happens next. Leia hurts her HAND trying to turn a lever. You clam up at all the fucking context this scene now holds for you and Dean. You can’t say the next lines. Because you know that Solo grabs Leia’s HAND as she says, “Occasionally, maybe… when you aren’t acting like a scoundrel.”

That’s when last night’s rum-infested confessions cut to the front of the memory queue. You adore scoundrels, rogues.

Dean doesn’t miss a beat, though. He even gazes down at one of your HANDS. He continues the performance. “Scoundrel?” Face half cast in shadow, his lids widen, irises still manage to catch the light and entrance you. “Scoundrel?” A huge grin emerges. “I like the sound of that.”

Solo is massaging Leia’s HAND the whole time.

Leia whispers, “Stop that.”

Dean replies, “Stop what?” Though he’s not questioning the screen. He’s locked eyes with you. Daring you to break away first.

Leia answers, even softer. “Stop that. My hands are dirty.”

Dean tilts his head, uncaring. “My hands are dirty, too. What are you afraid of?”

“Afraid?” Oh, Leia, Don’t egg him on.

“You’re trembling,” Dean’s voice is softer. He’s edging closer, but there’s only so much distance he can cover with the popcorn bowl in the way.

You decide now’s as good a time as any to try and act your way out of a paper bag. “I’m not trembling.” You coat your response with steel.

Dean is only encouraged by your participation. “You like me because I’m a scoundrel. There aren’t enough scoundrels in your life.”

You ponder for a moment. “I happen to like nice men.”

“I’m nice men.” Dean offers with complete sincerity.

You scoff. “No, you’re not. You’re…”

The music swells. Solo and Leia kiss.

But, you and Dean just stare at each other, for what feels like an eternity. You know C3PO is gonna interrupt the lovebirds at any moment. It’s the only lifeline you have, so you wait for the robot with the worst timing in history to save you from embarrassment.

“Guys?” Sam’s voice calls from the hallway.

You snap, stick straight, your back pressed against the seat. Sam must have come in through the garage.

Dean sighs. “Yeah, Sammy. Come on in. Back so soon?”

The door flings open. Warm ceiling lights from the hall halo Sam’s figure. “You know how they say, never meet your heroes? Totally valid advice tonight.” Sam stumbles into the room, all lanky limbs, and sinks into the cushy side chair. He runs fingers through his hair, his profile scrutinizing the screen. “Jedi?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Seriously, dude, how are we related?”

The three of you watch the rest of the movie without much commentary.

And you and Dean do not quote any other lines.

You cleaned up the dinner mess, alone, in the kitchen. You insisted it was the least you could do and Dean didn’t put up much resistance.

You find Dean’s bedroom door open on your way to your own for the night. You stop in the doorway to thank him again.

He’s putting away some shirts in his dresser, back turned. He looks comfy, cozy, showered, and perfect. You compose yourself in a split second when he senses you and cocks his head to the door. “Hey, everything okay?”

It’s his usual question, always assuming something needs fixing or solving. But, you sense extra concern in the tone this time.

You nod, wanting to ease the tide of Dean Winchester’s worry. “Thank you. Tonight was fun.”

“Yeah, even with Chewbacca?”

You chuckle. “Be nice.”

He waves you in as he wraps up his laundry. You oblige and sit by the tiny corner table. “Yeah, you’re right. Solo actually wouldn’t mind Chewy hanging out with him and Leia.”

You smile. Apparently, it’s Star Wars character dissection time. “So, if Sam’s not Chewbacca…”

The drawer squeaks closed. “Luke.”

“Han doesn’t mind Luke. Annoyed, sometimes. But, everyone annoys Han at one point or another.”

Dean sits at the edge of the bed, facing you. He stretches, hands entwined and arms raised overhead. A white t-shirt hugs his form here and there. You get a glimpse of perky nipples pressing against fabric. “Luke was competition. Before the brother-sister bombshell,” Dean states.

“Yeah, guess so.”

“But, the three of them, they made a good team,” Dean continues.

You nod, deliberate and slow.

“It only takes one person to start getting feelings for another one in the trio and then the whole galaxy is in jeopardy.” Dean taps the pads of his fingers together.

You sigh. You didn’t want to have to rat yourself out. But, Dean’s got a point. So, how do you go about telling him you’re finding him unbelievably attractive all of a sudden? And how do you ease his apparent worry? What, you’ll do your best to keep it in check? It won’t interfere with the work you do?

“We’re a good team, right? You, me, Sammy?” Dean cuts through the silence with the questions. He scrubs at the nape of his neck.

“I-I’d like to think so. But, you’re right, Dean. It can throw the whole balance off in a good working relationship if someone starts to catch feelings that aren’t reciprocated.”

His eyebrows form a distraught mountain peak. “So, it’s true?”

He looks so unhappy at the possibility, but you’ve gotta be an adult about it. “It just started happening during the last case.” You shrug. “But, I don’t have any intention of acting on them.” A hand raises. “Don’t worry.”

His lips purse tight. Nostrils flare. He’s deep in thought. Finally, he says, “But, you won’t know if you don’t act on it.” He nods more to convince himself now. “You should talk to Sam about how you feel.”

You blink, dumbfounded. “Huh?”

“Hey, I gave it a ‘good ole high school dropout that earned his GED’ try. We have established that I am not your type.”

“Wha-?”

“I’ll be fine with the two of you being a thing. I want to see you and Sam happy. If that means you both, together, that’s great.”

Your hands circle in front of you. “Whoa, whoa. Back up a minute.” Suddenly, your heart is racing.

“What?” He’s got that vacant puppy dog expression, every muscle in his face relaxed, wide open eyes.

You steady your breathing. “What made you think you were my type?” You can’t help the question. You only hope it doesn’t sound belittling or sarcastic. Right now, it’s your last defense of self-protection and attempt at fact finding. You gotta know if you are misinterpreting the revelation that Dean may in fact be upset if you and Sam were an item. Because… he wants you two to be an item?!

“You were acting… weird… ever since Lincoln and the manicure.” He twiddles his fingers. “I was picking up signals that weren’t there, I guess.” He shakes his head and mumbles. “Or, I probably was looking too hard to find something that wasn’t there. Like those times you tell me I’m sniffing around the wrong dog’s butt.”

You squish your lids at how crass you can be. It’s giving you less reasons to think he could find you attractive in any capacity. “Okay, but why was that so important to know?”

His arms extend from side to side. He’s getting riled up and more than a little miffed. But, you know that might work in your favor. His mouth tends to run on autopilot and the truth comes flying out. “Our, I don’t know, petri dish of co-existing in this jack-in-the-box wouldn’t get fucked up. I wouldn’t go off half-cocked and do something I’ve been wanting to do for a while unless I knew, for sure, that you felt the same way I did.” His hands retract and fall in his lap. He’s not looking at you, instead staring at his socked feet. “But, you don’t.”

You’ve got actual fucking butterflies beating their wings like bongo drums in your stomach. “What have you wanted to do for a while?”

His eyes track up to you. He’s inspecting you, hard. That’s doing nothing to quell the excitement inside. “What’s the point in telling you that now?”

“Because, maybe… you’re wrong and… you are my type.”

Dean’s lids lift a quarter of an inch. It’s a minute, micro reaction. But you catch it.

“Maybe I’ve been ignoring it for a while, because, like you. I didn’t want to mess things up. I love Sam.” You swallow, ready to bare all. “But, I haven’t been thinking about what his hands could do to me,” you whisper.

Dean inhales, sharp and quick through his nose at that confession. He exhales, adding, “Don’t fuck with me.”

You can’t do anything but grin in a way that you’re sure makes you look like a goddamn idiot. “I should have said that to you numerous times today. The pancakes. The gun cleaning. Freakin’ Han massaging Leia’s HAND!”

His lids widen. “Hey, it was me testing my theory. Like when we gotta douse someone with holy water to make sure they aren’t possessed. All but the movie, though. Swear I did not remember that scene until a few seconds before it started happening.” He sits up, rubs palms on his sweatpant clad thighs. “Well, okay, I didn’t remember the hand thing, but I wanted to see how you reacted to like THE best scoundrel ever.” Now, he’s grinning. “Been thinkin’ about my hands, huh?”

You roll your eyes merely to play along. “Alright, don’t get a big head.”

He cocks his head like a devilish rogue. “No need for a big head when I’ve got big hands.”

The giggle escapes before you can lasso it.

Dean slides his gaze up your seated frame. It’s a filthy, seedy expression. And hot as fuck. He stops to stare at your mouth, then licks his own. When his eyes meet yours, he commands, “Come on over and show me what you’ve been thinking of.” He pats his thighs. “I’ve got a nice warm seat for ya.”

He’s kidding, right? He wants you to sit on his lap. As if you’d even consider it.

And, yeah, you aren’t considering it. There’s no time for consideration when your legs have already propelled you out of the seat. You give his bedroom door a swing in a passing thought about closing it for privacy.

You can see the look of surprise on Dean’s face as you march over to the bed. But it’s mixed with want and eagerness. He opens his arms in welcome.

Warmth prickles your cheeks at the forwardness you display in accepting the invitation. One knee props up on the bed beside him. You anchor hands onto his shoulders, feel those fingers fan and lock onto your waist, and you bring the rest of your body up to straddle his lap.

You sigh, staring down at that kid in a candy store grin of his, and marvel at how very right it all feels. You settle, your ass firmly atop his thighs. The heat of him is immediate.

“Been wanting you like this,” he whispers, his nose brushing the skin exposed around your collar. A hand molds to the side of your neck, holding you in place. You shiver at the lips skirting upwards along the channel of your throat. “Now who’s ticklish?” It’s meant to tease, but his voice has lost that hint of mirth. It’s deeper, daring you to deny his observation as anything other than fact. “Maybe you aren’t ready for my hands. All.” A kiss at the juncture where your lobe meets your jaw. “Over.” A peck at the tip of your chin. He threads his fingers into the base of your hairline. He eases your head with a smooth tilt down. You lock eyes with his green ones once again. “You.”

The only response you can give is to connect your lips to his. Feeling the pliant, soft give of his mouth against yours. Then his insistent lean up and forward, forcing you to stand your ground while seated on his lap. You have to demonstrate your want is equal to his.

And you want. You so want.

Whatever you’re doing, his approving moan eggs you to continue. With each swipe and dip and dive of your lips, your mouth opens a bit more. The access encourages Dean’s tongue to taste. He laps at you gently, swirls around just enough that your core begins to ache. He pulls away and you groan. You’re drunk with desire, heavy and heady. 

Your lids blink open slow and sleepy. Thankfully you find Dean’s looking as blissed out as you feel. He’s inspecting your reaction through a hazy gaze. His hand captures the side of your face. Five pressure points sink into your skin. His eyes flicker to your mouth to watch his thumb outline the curve of your lip. The pad tugs and drags at your skin.

It’s only a second of wordless communication between the two of you. He asks with a lifting of his lids. You agree with an affirmative blink.

His thumb delves into your mouth, up to the first knuckle. You wrap your lips around. Suck with the gentlest of pressure.

His mouth lifts into a slight smile. “Good girl,” he whispers.

And, fuck if that doesn’t open your floodgates. You’re slick and ready.

Dean’s other hand runs along the waistband of your yoga pants. “You been thinking about my hands all over you…” His thumb glides under the fabric of your panties. “Taking you apart, piece by piece.” He delves farther down, until he taps the top of your mound. His jaw clenches at your gasp of anticipation. His thumb hooks under your tongue against the floor of your mouth to express just how in command he is right now. “You gonna do what I say, Your Worship?”

You nod. You’ll don a pair of cinnamon buns if he tells you to right now.

He smirks, cocky and full of confidence. “The better I make you feel down here...” He works his thumb between your folds and presses against your clit. You squirm in his lap. “The better you suck with that beautiful mouth, yeah?”

You nod again. He releases the pressure in your mouth, circles your bundle of nerves. He slips and slides while his fingers splay over your stomach to anchor in place. You latch onto his thumb again and suck on it like a straw

“Pretty sure this isn’t as wet as you’re gonna get,” he comments like a fucking weatherman. After only a few seconds, he sighs and shakes his head. “Too many fucking clothes.”

You’ve only sparred with Dean a handful of times. Every time, he’s bested you with graceful movements and quick action. He disengages from you for what must have only been seconds, spinning you around in his grasp and pinning your back to the mattress. He’s whipping off your t-shirt, pants, and underwear. Leaving you in only your bra.

He leers over you, hands running up the underside of your thighs. He kneels onto the bed, all of his clothes still on, to wedge against your ass. All of you is on proper display for him. And he takes it all in.

“Right, Gorgeous. Where were we?” One hand rides its way up your chest back to your mouth. You accept his index finger between your lips this time. His other hand resumes playing with your clit. “Hm. Much better.” 

A gasp escapes from your mouth. Your tongue ejects his finger so you can point out, “Who’s the one with too many fucking clothes on now?”

“All good things come to those who wait, darlin’.” He settles further, criss crossing over top of your flesh. His legs sandwich your right thigh while he strums your pussy. The hope of what else is to come pokes into your side through his sweatpants. He doesn’t give you a chance to reply, slipping his finger into your mouth again. The pull of his left hand guides you to lean your head toward the right. He settles his beefy forearm onto the mattress above your shoulder.

His chest pins you down in a kinky wrestling move. Teeth snag your ear lobe. He applies pressure to the swollen flesh over a ridge of bone, then uses a flicking motion that makes your thigh twitch in delight.

You're sloppy with your technique of licks and sucks as he feeds you another digit. But, really, how is any gal supposed to mind their manners with Dean Winchester fingering her? You groan, helpless, as he explores your folds, finds your entrance with two tips. “I know you got a thing for my hands,” his hot breath tunnels into your ear canal, “but, if you want, I can fill you up real good with something else.”

You can’t reply with any actual words, only moans of agreement. The erection pressing into your hip bone sure does feel substantial. If it’s anything like his fingers - two fingers are currently surfing around your tongue and rubbing against your palate - he’ll have no problem filling you up.

To ground yourself in the reality of the situation, you snatch at the hem of his shirt and tug. Your pelvis tilts up at the slow insertion of one of his other fingers down below. “Damn,” he pants into your ear. “How long’s it been since someone took care of you, all nice and proper? So- so tight and wet.” He hums. “And warm.” A languid slide out with one finger, only to be accompanied with another when he pushes back inside. “Feel so good. Gonna feel even better around my cock after I make you come… Princess.”

You will not ever admit to the fact that you squealed with Dean’s fingers in your mouth. That you convulsed after only seconds of him playing with your clit and stretching open your hole.

Fireworks continue to skyrocket in your head. Your body tipped into the oversensitive zone. You’re aware of every bit of him plastered against you. He’s made you slick with arousal and sweat. Layers of fabric cling to skin. You should be suffocating with him laying atop you, but he feels like a weighted blanket. Warm, secure. Dean’s fingers don’t retract from your mouth or pussy. They are frozen in place. Your teeth nibble one set. Your muscles spasm around the other. 

He hasn’t moved. Hot breath huffs hard into the crook of your neck with an occasional sharp inhale and hold. You close your eyes. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that you could fall asleep like this.

“Was that… too much?” He deep-throat whispers in your ear now. “I may have gotten a little carried away.”

“N-mph-,” you chortle around his fingers.

“Shit, sorry.” He pulls his hand away from your mouth, the other slowly out of your hot core. Matching sighs release from you both.

“No,” you heave, and his chest rises up and off. “It was… awesome.”

He’s in your face now, all green eyes and pink lips, a veil of freckles along the bridge of his nose and forehead. “Yeah?”

You squint, trying to focus on all the glorious aspects. He’s studying you. You get the feeling he’s really not sure. “Why is the ladies man doubting himself all of sudden?” you tease, rocking to shuffle him out of the daze.

A shrug. “It’s you. I don’t always read you right.”

You lean your head back into his memory foam in an attempt to make full eye contact. “I don’t know how many ways you can misread giving me a mindblowing orgasm.”

He blinks, cautious. “Is what I did going to… you know… change things between us?”

“Oh.” You stop, dart your gaze to the ceiling past his shoulder for dramatic effect. “Oh, absolutely. I mean,” you pause, “how could it not?” You shake your head and feel his entire body go rigid. “It’s gonna be so awkward and uncomfortable around here.” 

When you dare to look at him, there’s a hint of something you don’t see often on Dean’s face. You think it might be fear.

You can’t bear it any longer. “I mean, I can already imagine the disgusted look on Sam’s face when we start making out right in front of him.”

Within seconds, the expression turns to one of relief and amusement, accompanied by the charming cockiness that’s gonna turn you to goo at the most inopportune moments from here on out. “Well, we don’t have to tell him right away. It might be fun to, you know, sneak around right under his nose.” He relaxes, sinks into you again. “I could have you all sorts of ways, in all sorts of places, doing our best not to get caught.”

You smile. “Don’t want to tell your brother you’ve stolen my heart with that five-finger discount of yours?”

He chuckles, rolls his eyes, then cups the heat of your folds again. “I mean, I sucked at Biology, but pretty sure this ain’t your heart, darlin’.”

“You’re wrong, you know?”

He blinks, all sass and spectacle, “This IS your heart?” He squeezes.

You peck his lips, roll your eyes, and curl arms around his waist. “No. Solo’s got nothing on you. YOU are the best scoundrel.”

A breathtaking kiss makes you all lightheaded. When he finally pulls away and allows you to exhale, he lifts one side of his mouth into a confident grin. “I know.”

THE END

[anemonelovesfiction]

Fated Mates 2

Ao’nung x fem! Human reader

Warnings ⚠️: Sex, p in v, fingering (bc Ao’s fingers make me drool), obviously these characters are aged tf up

Y’all I included a little tradition within a marriage ceremony (not Ao & Y/n) please someone tell me if its cute bc I thought it was but now idk, I need like hella reassurance for my skxawng ass.

As always, English text is stricken through, except a blurb where I wrote a note bc there is too much English and I refused to strike through a large some of text

I did make a tag list, but personally I don’t think it’s my forte so I don’t believe I’ll be doing it again, I hope y’all can understand🥺

Tag List 🏷️ @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @universal-s1ut @lili-flower03 @deadpool15

Translation Station

Ma’Sempul: My father

Ma’itan: My son

Tawtute: Sky Person (used as “human”)

Tsahik: Spirtual healer

Tsakarem: Tsahik in training

Kinä: Seven (7)

Tìyawn: Love (or “My Love”)

Oel ngati kameie: I see you

Tewng: Loincloth

Yawne: Beloved

Skxawng: Moron

Tsmuke: Sister

Tsmukan: Brother

Sa’nok: Mother

Word count: 7.9K not as long as the other one but still

<<Previous | Next>>

~*~*~*~*~*~*

“How is she?”

“I’m sorry?” I asked confusion evident in my voice and face as he asks me that question, I turn to face my father as he fails at hiding the amused glint in his eye.

“The girl you have spent your nights with for the past month.” He states as a smile breaks out onto his features and I’m a blushing mess. There was no way for me to hide it since my face had already given it away but I tried to move this along smoothly.

“It’s enough that mom knows, now you. Must you ask such private questions?” I groaned internally, the only reason he could be commenting on it had to be because my mother was growing impatient at finding any new information about it.

“Must you always hide everything from us?” He asks

“Ma’Sempul- we’re hunting, is now the time to ask such questions.” I asked.

“I worry about you ma‘itan.” He places a hand on my shoulder before one of the men hiding a ways from us signals at us.

“Thats the signal, lets go,” I broke the conversation short as I dove, my father following behind me.

We’d gotten up extremely early for this hunt to be successful. Quite a few people had gotten married during the last couple weeks and we had the last of the group marrying today. Every day we gathered together, the male of the couple included, to hunt for the feast at our communal dinner, it was the last test that not only could he provide for his mate, but when extreme circumstances arose, he too could prove useful to the clan.

The male of the soon-to-be mated pair had to plan the hunt the day of their union. Plan out where we were to swim, what we were to hunt, and instruct us on skinning the creature and instruct us how to cook it. We prided ourselves in being the providers for our clan and taking care of our mate, the women stayed behind and prepared our work stations once we got back.

It was a beautiful thing to witness a union of two souls, the night was an entire celebration dedicated to them, their friends and family showing their support toward them. I couldn’t wait for Tsireya’s, I’m sure they would make the decision here soon but I wouldn’t know when.

Capturing the beast wasn’t easy, the human boy was assisting as well and proved useful to us. He was great at holding his breath underwater, not as strong as we were, but could definitely hold his own. He, Lo’ak, and Rotxo worked very well together and it prided me knowing that these were the great men who were a part of Y/n’s life.

_________

“Could we talk about something?” Tsireya asks and her face was filled with worry, maybe happiness, confusion? I was usually good at reading her but today I was off.

“That depends, if it’s about Lo’ak, I’d really prefer to not hear it.” Kiri states as she gathers the same sized seashells into a basket. These were going to be used as decoration for tonights union.

“Kiri, stop being rude.” I tease and playfully roll my eyes before turning to the beautiful teal goddess before me

“Is something bothering you?” I asked her as I continued weaving this humongous garment with Tsireya on the other side of it.

They had a tradition where the two stomp on the middle shell, which happened to be the larger one, and however many pieces it broke into represented the two of them as well as the children they were to have. They would then tie their favorite piece of the shell in their song cord, their children's song cord would start with a piece of the broken shell representing both parents becoming one. This garment was going to be thrown around the two who were finalizing their union today as a means to show the clan that they were coming together after they pick their favorite piece and the rest placed in a small container they would take home.

“It’s about Ao’nung,” She bites her lip and apologetically looks at me.

“There must be something interesting for you to want to talk about your brother,” Kiri mentions and I have to force an angry/disgusted look on my face to keep up with the appearance.

“If I could mentally ascend to Eywa right now, I would.” I commented and she smiles while shaking her head to herself.

“Well, he’s been seeing someone recently.” She admits and I fight the urge to freeze, seem curious, or appear affected by her words.

“The sooner he’s out of our hair the better.” I go back to focusing on the weaving and Kiri laughs at that.

“Isn’t that a good thing, ‘Reya?” Kiri asks her and Tsireya looks kind of bothered.

“Oh, sweets, I’m sorry. Don’t take my comments to heart, but it looks like its bothering you, is this a bad thing?” I asked as the small frown had already edged itself into my heart. She shakes her head at my question.

“No, it’s just-“ She sighs and stops weaving, considering this was a two-person job I too had to stop weaving. She lets out a big sigh but still seems saddened.

“You can tell us, we’ll stop being assholes about it.” Kiri speaks up.

“He’s just different is all.” She states and looks like she’s embarrassed for what she said and just about speaks again- more than likely to change the subject.

“Different how?” I ask and she closes her mouth and looks up at me, her eyes very thankful that I’d asked.

“He just seems more patient and kind. His temper isn’t as harsh as it used to be and he is even kinder to the children because of it. I can only assume it has to do with this person he meets up with.”

“But it bothers you?” I asked again and she shakes her head.

“No! This change is good, it is something he needs. But he has yet to share with me and this big secret has been going on for a month. We share everything together and not being let in on this secret makes me feel like he does not trust me.”

“Don’t say that, I’m sure he is just very nervous about it, or maybe this person is very shy? Don’t take it personal, ‘Reya, when he comes home tonight why don’t you ask him about it, if he doesn’t want to share let him know you’re there for him and he will share when he’s ready.” Kiri offers and I look back and smile at her words of wisdom. She always knew what to say to make anybody feel better.

“I am just too nervous to talk with him about it.” Tsireya mentions.

“Hey, remember how nervous you were when you talked to him about Lo’ak?” I asked her and she nodded.

“He might be feeling that same way, but he was supportive- or at least I think he was, because you’re courting Lo’ak now. I’m sure he’s more nervous to tell you than you are of asking him.” I told her and she nods in understanding.

Just then we all hear the sound of the horn signifying the return of the hunters. Tsireya turns and I take advantage of her eyes being off me to scan the crowd for her brother, unable to find him in the massive crowd of teal bodies, although Lo’ak stood out to me and so did Spider. I’m glad I had the weaved garment nearby as soon as Tsireya turns since my eyes looked at my finger positioning at the same time she turned.

“Don’t worry, Y/n, we’re almost done.” She reassures me and I look back up at her, nodding my head as we started weaving once more.

“How long does that usually take?” I asked her.

“It’s tradition for the tsahik to say a few words and bless the union of the pair. Then we celebrate all night with dancing, singing, drinking, it lasts a long time too.”

“How soon do you think they’ll have kids?” I ask in genuine curiosity before feeling Kiri’s lightest swat at the back of my head and Tsireya full on laughing.

“Sorry, I forget tawtute are more invasive than you guys, but I was genuinely curious Kiri, I swear I wasn’t making a joke.” I turned my head toward her as she was squatting behind me finishing separating the shells.

“It depends on them,” Tsireya answered.

_________

Eclipse was quick to come from the moment we’d all finished cooking and getting ready for the union. The couple always had the tsahik speak blessings on them just before eclipse started and once it was over the two would share with the clan the vows they choose to make for their partner.

After the vows are shared, the tsakarem- Tsireya- lays down the garment behind the two and they turn to step on the shell in the middle. At this very moment the two were sharing their vows about their love for each other and I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander over and catch a glimpse of Y/n.

She had one of her hands covering her mouth in awe as her other hand wiped away the tears escaping her eyes. I could see her sniffle a bit to contain herself and Kiri leans over to pat the girls head gently. I couldn’t help but smile at her reaction toward the ceremony and felt my heart swell with pride at the absolute sweet heart she is.

The couple had turned around and broken the shell, Tsireya kneeling on the floor to count the pieces the shell had broken into.

“Kinä!” Tsireya yells as everyone cheers.

Seven, they’re going to have five children between the two, what a blessing! I turned with a slight smile of my own and capture Y/n’s eyes with my own and she lifts her hand to sign a quick Hello. I signed back and she smiles widely.

It doesn’t take long for the singing to begin after they had gathered their shell pieces and everyone stood up. This would be the perfect opportunity to slip away to the woods with Y/n. I capture her eyes once more and cock my head back toward the woods and she nods her head, turning back to pretend to be paying attention to whatever her brother was saying.

I’d started walking away first, knowing she’d have to find her own way out of the conversation she was in. We often did this to prevent anyone from noticing us slipping away together and starting a rumor that would spread faster than whatever rumor was started that morning.

I knew it would probably take a bit for her to come meet me in the clearing so I’d decided to lurk a bit closer toward the edge of the woods to just watch her. Only to flare my nose when I’d noticed Rotxo walk up to her, wondering what in the great mother he thought he was doing. I’d wanted to walk over to her and pick her up and away from his presence but I knew what would happen if I did.

I didn’t need to be upsetting my mother at this moment, not that I would have cared, but she was due to give birth soon. And having my sibling pop out while my mother was stressed wasn’t a good mix. I also didn’t want to embarrass Y/n in front of her family or let her sweet ears listen to whatever kind of messed up comments the clan would have to say. I also don’t want to upstage the happy couple that decided to stay for a while before heading off toward the spirit tree.

I could see Y/n laugh at whatever Rotxo had said and could feel the pure jealousy filling the pit of my stomach. He smiled at her reaction and seemed overall nervous, I was easily angered and my tail swayed furiously. He’d nodded at what she said and headed off before she looked around to make sure nobody was paying attention to her, once she was in the clear she started heading toward the wooded area again, I’d backed off from plain sight and started trudging my way toward the clearing.

I could hear her tiny footsteps walking near the clearing but I had my back turned toward her as I sat with my thoughts and fidgeted with my fingers. I truly did not want to be jealous, but I couldn’t help to feel that way, I had no idea what else to do.

“Guess who!” She had placed her hands over my eyes. She told me a little bit ago that tawtute often did this to one another, what for I can’t say, but it defeats the purpose when I know her smell, her voice, and I could hear her smacking her feet with every step.

“Tìyawn, you scare the sea life within a five mile radius with how loud you walk.” I stated as her arms slip from my sight, my eyes adjusting toward the bioluminescent lights provided by the plants around us, and her pouty face comes around to greet me. I smile softly and reach for her face, pulling her into a sweet short kiss, pulling back from her and staring at her eyes.

“That was mean.” She stated in fake hurt as she crossed her arms next, stomping her feet as she turned around, acting like a child. But I carefully snake my arm around her waist and pull her back toward me, kissing the back of her neck, her resolve crumbling.

“Thats loser talk, little one.” I nuzzle the back of her neck with my nose and she shivers at the touch, her smell was wonderful and it helped calm me down. I took a couple of sniffs before she pulled herself away from me.

“I need to talk to you about something,” She mentioned seriously and it made my heart drop.

“Does it have to do with why Rotxo was all over you?” I asked and felt like kicking myself in the face, she was confused and another emotion settled onto her features, but I couldn’t pinpoint what.

“Where you watching me?” She asks with a hint of something in her voice but it was frustrating me that I couldn’t figure out what it was.

“No,” I looked away from her gaze but she laughs lightly. Was this amusing to her?

“Look at me,” She stated so gently but I didn’t have to heart to, settling to looking at the ground, but feeling her soft hands on my cheeks as she turned my face to look at hers was making me feel shy.

“Hey,” She coo’s gently and I finally look at her. Her smile was still evident and she looks amused.

“I do not-“ I was cut off as she places the backs of her fingers on my mouth to shush me.

“Theres no need to be jealous, Ao’nung, Rotxo was telling me about how his situationship was going along. He’s confided in me as a friend.”

“I’m not jealous.” I scoff and look away before feeling her hands guiding my stare back toward her.

“No, of course not, my mistake.” She runs her thumbs against my cheeks lovingly that I couldn’t help but close my eyes and hum happily. “But you don’t have to worry about me being interested in anyone else, okay?” She makes it sound like a question but I know she wasn’t really awaiting an answer. I’d opened my eyes as she spoke but felt doubtful.

“But what if you find someone else?” I asked her and felt my insecurities rising.

“Never. I only see you, Tìyawn, only you.” She reassures me.

“Oel ngati kameie, little one,” I stated almost immediately after she had and we meet in the middle for a kiss.

“You know what we should do right now?” She asks me as she backs up from my lips and I pout slightly at the loss of her being so close.

“What?”

“Have sex in the water-“ She tries hiding her amusement but her eyes were twinkling.

_________

Further on closer toward the opposite edge of the woods where we’d come from are more walkways that reach smaller islands within the Metkayina and the other clans nearby. There was usually someone watching post nearby or walking around but due to the celebration, Tonowari was nice enough to let them have a small break and come down to have fun.

“There is something I wanted to tell you,” I stated while panting as his fangs tickled my neck.

“Mm,” He mutter mindlessly but his ears flicker up toward me to listen.

“Your dad is hot-“ I hold back a giggle as he makes a disapproving look, his lips swollen from our heavy make out session, biting my lip as I look down at his mouth and back up his eyes.

“Yeah?” His eyes darkened as his head tilts to the side, hands gingerly gripping my thighs and dragging me toward him. “Why is that?” He asks with a finger on my chin, making sure I don’t shy away from his intense eye contact.

“The tattoo’s that cover his face, he’s very kind, his voice is deep, he’s very strong.” I listed while staring right at Ao’nung, his smirk settling in his face.

“I’ve got tattoos on my face.” He stated as his hands start running across my thighs softly.

“Not very many,” I retort and his big hands start caressing my inner thighs.

“Am I not kind to you, little one?” He asks while kissing at my jaw line and once again down my neck, his fingers dangerously close to where I needed them.

“I-I guess-“ I gasp as he finally pushes my tewng to the side and glides his thumb over my clit.

“Is my voice not deep when I pleasure you?” He asks straight into my ear and plunges one finger straight in and I couldn’t help but moan.

“Hmm?” He grazes my g-spot and I shudder under him, closing my eyes and enjoying his ministrations. I feel his finger remain still and it causes me to open my eyes again.

“Yes!” I whine and he chuckles.

“Look at how pathetic you are and I’ve only used one finger. Do you really think you could handle my father?” He asks cockily.

“Just want you-“ I groan as he slides a second finger in.

“Hmm, are you certain?” He purposely curls them over my G-spot, not even bothering to thrust them anymore, just moving them over my spongey spot repeatedly.

“Am I too weak for you?” He asks and pecks my lips.

“N-no,“ I try concentrating on my words but concentrate on bucking my hips instead, eyes closed tightly, grasping onto his arm for dear life as he continues pleasuring me.

“Fuck,” I moan out loudly and I can hear the smirk in his voice.

“I thought you wanted to do this in the water.”

“Hmm,” I buck my hips against his fingers.

“You gonna come?” He asks and I only nod my head as much as I could just to feel the orgasm ripped away from me as he removes his fingers. But before he says anything I crawl on his lap kissing him and grinding myself over his noticeable bulge.

“It almost feels like you prefer me over my father,” He teases while sliding me against his body as he stands, discarding his tewng in the sand, and walking into the water.

“Wait what about mine-“ I asked but it was too late.

“Just in case anyone comes by unexpectedly, you’ll be safe.” He kisses me and bites my bottom lip teasingly.

“I do prefer you over your father,” I wrapped my arms around his neck answering his previous question.

“I’m not convinced,” he once again moves my tewng to the side, and pushes his penis in one go, after having done this for the past month its safe to say he fits well, and the initial sting does bother me but it doesn’t hurt as bad as before when we’d first done it.

“Oh shit-“ I gasp and shut my eyes and squeeze my legs wrapped around his waist, my arms squeezing his neck, his own hands squeezing my hips.

“You feel so good little one, such a good girl taking my cock like that,”

I tried not to react to what he was saying but I’m sure my pussy was giving it away, his smirk returning on his face causing me to shiver.

“You like that?” He asks but doesn’t giving me a chance to answer before thrusting his hips upward.

“W-wait!” I whine as he continues thrusting rapidly, feeling my orgasm approaching rapidly.

“Can’t believe you’re all mine, pretty girl, all mine.” He grows into my ear and the possessiveness coming from it makes me moan loudly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” The mantra spills out of my lips so easily and I can hear him grunting with every thrust.

“Touch me, little one, touch my ears-“ He begs and his hands squeeze my hips harder, but I bring my hands up to caress his ears, somehow he thrusts even faster and his hips are meeting mine.

“Fuck!” I yell as his pelvis strokes my clit deliciously with how deep, fast, and hard he was going. I could feel his ears trembling under my touch and the most unexpected constant flow of whimpers coming from his mouth.

“Such a good girl, wanna paint your pretty walls with my come-“ He mutters.

“Come Ao’nung, please!” I cry as I feel myself being tipped over the edge, his own orgasm chasing after mine. I was always curious about their come, it had a slight blue glow to it, shining very brightly in the night.

“You’re wild, Tìyawn,” He states as he gently pulls out, sweeping his fingers inside to make sure to get all of his come off me.

“Do you think your dad fucks as hard as you do?”

He splashes water in my face and I can’t help but laugh at my own comment and the disapproving look he’d given me.

“I only see you, yawne.” I repeat to him and kiss him.

“I only see you, little one.” He connects our foreheads together and I feel at peace as I hold onto him.

“I want to stay like this forever,” I hum in appreciation as he gently runs one of his hands against my back.

“I know but we need to go back soon. We can’t get caught.”

“Speaking of getting caught, when should we tell Tsireya?” I asked as I remembered the conversation we were having at the beach earlier today and the real reason I’d told him I needed to tell him something.

“Are you sure you want to tell her? She can be a loud mouth.” He stated and I pout a bit.

“She mentioned noticing a change in you this past month but was upset that you haven’t told her anything. She would keep our secret.” I stated as he begins walking out of the water.

“Is it something you are sure about?” He asks and I just look at him in surprise.

“Is it something you want to tell her? She is your best friend.” I add on to earn sympathy points from him.

“I do,” He nods. “But, I worry that my mom will find out,”

“No wait, I care more about you than what my mother thinks, but-“

“I know, she’s still scary,” I smile up toward him to let him know I wasn’t offended by his words. His feet had finally touched the sand and I try wriggling off of him.

“Lets stay like this until we get back.”

“You’re naked right now. Nobody else can see you like this.” I narrowed my eyes at him and he just smiles, planting a kiss on my mouth.

“Weren’t you the one who said there was no need to get jealous?”

“I will cut your dick off.”

“You’d wrap those pretty lips around it before you cut it off, little one,”

“Stooop!” I blushed at his words.

_________

“Oh, Hey! Where have you been?” Tsireya had turned right after I tapped her arm gently to gain her attention since she’d been dancing with a group of friends. These girls were friends from her childhood and were known to be gossipers but appeared to have drank a little much at the same time given their sways. I was just thankful we were closer toward the edge of the crowd and not near the singers where it was hard to hold a conversation.

“Could I introduce you to someone?” I’d asked her in a hushed voice. I wanted to be careful with how I’d stated anything around her friends since I had no intention of allowing them to overhear our conversation. I also didn’t want to risk them hearing anything and getting the wrong idea, or allowing their liquid courage to give them any reason to follow us, I just wanted to tell Tsireya, nobody else.

After getting out of the water we’d sat back in the clearing to dry off but her hair seemed to be drying at a slower pace than normal, probably due to no sun or heat being available, and my mind had shifted toward what she had said at the cave where tawtute were sensitive to temperatures. I’d asked her if she wanted a blanket to wrap herself around but she’d refused until I told her I would find Tsireya and bring her over where I felt her shivering and decided to grab a blanket from our marui, bringing it over so she could warm up while I left her to find my sister.

My sisters face goes blank before being switched over toward a new emotion that settles on her face that she fails to hide but she nods either way. She’d turned toward her friends saying I had shown up to escort her home since she had to start early tomorrow morning. It was a wonderful excuse in order for her to part from them, but that meant our trek over toward the clearing would have to take a little longer getting there.

We’d walked in silence toward the marui’s before making sure her friends could not see us anymore to give them the impression that we’d gone home. She pauses behind a random marui but I’m thankful she signs since it is uncertain if anybody else was at home or not.

Where is she? Her giddy smile and the excitement glowing in her eyes were a testament to how she felt at the moment.

She’s in the clearing, we’ll have to walk for a bit. I signed back and turned around to start walking over, and I’m certain she was following behind.

It was just now that I could feel my heart pounding in my chest with each step we took, getting closer to the clearing had my stomach tumbling too, my airway felt constricted and my mouth was dry. I decided to take a deep breath to try to calm myself and slowly exhaled.

“I need you to promise me you won’t tell anyone. You can’t tell your friends at all, you can’t even tell Lo’ak, we’re trying to hide it from mom.” I admitted as we continued walking, we were a littlw ways out from the clearing and all I could think was if this was a good idea or not.

“If that is what you wish I will not tell a soul, but are you certain you want me to meet her?” The lightest touch on my arm caught my attention and I turned, noticing she’d stopped.

No matter how bad she’d wanted to know a secret anyone was hiding, she always made sure to keep her nose out of it, she would always wait for someone to approach her and never shared that secret with anyone else, always keeping it. When we were smaller, our mother forbid me to go hunting with the bigger kids because she knew I’d get hurt, let’s just say I didn’t listen to her and definitely got hurt. Tsireya had walked in on my arm bleeding from a cut I got from coral - since I tried wooing the people I was with- as I searched the salves my mother kept in a box. She’d taken the paste away from my hand and grabbed another one that looked completely different and handed it to me, putting the other one in its place.

She even took the time to place the smallest bits of seaweed on it to help the paste stay in the cut. She’d spent the entire day standing next to me to cover her work so our mother wouldn’t yell at me. She refused to leave my side when her friends called and when our mother asked us why she was stuck on my side she said it was because she loved me.

“I can turn back if you want, no matter how bad I want to know who she is, I can wait.” She adds again and doesn’t even bother trying to sneak a peek around me.

“You’re my best friend, there is nobody else I’d want to introduce her to.” I reassure her and turn to walk again. We were nearing the clearing and I could catch a hint of her wrapped in my blanket.

“Just promise you won’t tell a soul, not even Eywa,” I whispered and she pokes my back for fun.

“Eywa knows all.” She jokes as she whispers back and we are finally here.

“Little one,” I called out to her and she turns her head to face me, her back stiffened as she stands even straighter, Tsireya remained behind me and hadn’t stepped out.

“I brought my sister.” I motion for her to come closer and she does, her footsteps being soft and calculated, she also seemed nervous.

“You ready, ‘Reya?” I asked as I tilted my head back so she could see me, she gives me a nod, and her eyes widened as I stepped out of her way, falling upon the tawtute in a shocked manner. She turns to look between myself and Y/n before uttering her first word.

“Ahh,” It was as if she’d had a sudden moment of clarity as her eyes settled back on Y/n. I could tell ma’tìyawn was letting the doubt fill in, her eyes were knitted upward as she stared up at my sister.

“Hi sweets,” She spoke nervously.

“This actually makes sense.” Tsireya states as if she were in a trance.

“You came back home hours after the storm had stopped, why ai couldn’t find her a little after you’d disappeared, why you’re nicer!” She poked my arm excitedly.

“You are courting my favorite tawtute!” She yells happily and I’m only thankful to Eywa for a celebration happening at this moment, if not I was sure everyone in the clan had heard her.

She had turned and ran up toward my tawtute, picking her up and squealing happily, I could feel my heart slowing down and my stomach settling, a cool feeling overtaking my once erratic nerves as I see the two embracing, a smile settles on my features as the two most important women in my life were embracing each other.

“I was so scared to tell you!” Y/n stated as she too seemed to be at ease.

“I should have pieced it together, but this is a good thing! You’re making him much less grumpy! Only the sweetest of souls could do that, and I should have known it was you!” Tsireya settles her down again as she sits down, crossing her legs.

“Tell me, is he hitting it right?” Tsireya asks and Y/n blushes.

“Who taught you that!” Y/n asks as Tsireya giggles.

“The person whose currently hitting this-“ She points at herself.

“Ugh, gross, Tsireya, don’t taint my tawtute.” I roll my eyes at the conversation being had in front of me.

“I knew you guys were boning,” Y/n comments back with a smile of her own.

“Yawne, thats gross,”

“Awe! Yawne?” Tsireya asks with the widest smile.

“I shouldn’t have let you two meet.” I sigh and place my hand over my face while shaking my head in disappointment.

“I thought you’d hate me for keeping this secret.”

“No no, you have every right to, have you told anyone else?”

“We haven’t told anyone else but we want to eventually, we’re taking small steps.” I speak up and Tsireya nods.

“Come sit,” Y/n pats the grass beside her, I walk over and sit where she’d pointed to and grab her, sitting her on my lap, my arms wrapped around her blanketed form. Tsireya cooing at how cute she thought this whole thing was, it made me blush for sure, I could only imagine my tawtute’s face at the comments. We’d enjoyed each others company throughout the rest of the night.

Walking back toward the back end of the Marui’s we reach the walkways where Y/n stops, turning to face me and taking the blanket off of herself, handing it over to me. I take it and shamelessly smell it, smiling at the change in smell, what once smelled like me now has a hint of her in it. I squat on my toes to kiss her and she wraps her arms around my neck.

“I’ll miss you tonight.” I kiss her forehead.

“We’ll see each other tomorrow,” She lets out a light laugh and I kiss her again.

“You do know your sister is still watching, hmm?” She asks and I kiss her once more.

“Thats her problem.” She takes her arms away from my neck and steps back.

I’ll miss you tonight. She signs with a bright blush on her face and I could only imagine my sister was looking at her, I was correct since I heard the slightest of Awe’s from behind me.

I’ll miss you more I signed back at her and she waves before turning to walk toward the Sully marui.

_________

*this whole conversation is in English until you wake up in the morning, ok? I’d rather make a note here than using strike through on all of the text*

“And where do you think you’ve been?”

I’d long since frozen upon seeing his tall build standing near the walkway, nowhere close to where the entrance of our marui was, just far enough away from being heard from anyone inside it. I could have turned back and walked from where I came but I was sure he’d follow regardless, and I knew Ao’nung and Tsireya weren’t out of sight yet.

“Enjoying the nice fresh air, whats wrong with you?” I asked him, trying to play it off like it was nothing.

“No, because I saw you walk toward the woods earlier, but didn’t see anyone else. I can only assume whoever you went to meet had already gone ahead of you.”

I kept my face as neutral as possible, trying to think of a way out of this situation, but my mind was drawing blanks. If he saw me going into the woods then I’d have to find a way to lie about why I was there.

“I don’t need to explain myself to you.” I scoff and roll my eyes. “But the tree’s remind me of being in the forest. It helps bring my mind at ease during social situations where I feel like I’m suffocating-“

“You really can’t lie your way out of this, lets try that again.”

“I swear, for being born two minutes later you’re the biggest pain in my ass.”

“I may be younger but I’m wiser-“

“No you aren’t, skxawng.”

“You’ve got an answer for me or do I need to find it out myself and follow you around the entire island?”

“With your clear threat, I can only imagine you have a vague idea of why I’m out here.”

“Not really but you buried yourself into a hole with that comment.”

“Spider-“ I stated angrily and pause to try to calm myself down.

“You never hide anything from me, Y/n, I’ve given it some time but I’m worried about you. You disappear several times a day and reappear even more tired. Is someone making you do something, or are you sick and you’re afraid to tell us?”

“Who is all home right now?” I asked aloud and Spider sighs.

“Jake, Neytiri, and Tuk. She got tired and they came back home. Lo’ak and Kiri were staying a bit longer but they should be coming home soon.”

“Give me until tomorrow afternoon and I can answer that question for sure.”

“Y/n-“ He stated immediately before I held my hand up to stop him from continuing.

“I am not being threatened to doing anything, I can assure you I’m fine, I just need to think about it, okay?”

He nods warily as I sigh.

“Just until tomorrow.” He agrees. Spider knew my body language well enough to understand when I’d been lying, but to also tell if I was okay, which I assume he got the hint and thats why he agreed.

“I’m tired, we should go sleep.” I suggested to move this along and he nods, walking over toward the entrance of the marui, and pushing aside the curtain covering the entrance.

Falling asleep had proven to be harsh as I continued tossing to find a comfortable position and no longer finding it comforting after getting settled, leaving me to turn once more and the cycle continued for a while. Jake and Neytiri had already put Tuk in bed and had stayed up until Lo’ak and Kiri came in.

We all talked in hushed voices about how special their ceremony was and how many people they talked to. It didn’t take long for them to have fallen asleep as they were probably tired and I was left to fend for myself. I’d had just about enough of not getting comfortable and stepped out of the marui, surprised that I’d managed to struggle all night since the daylight was starting to creep up onto the water.

I carefully and quietly walked over toward the beach and sat with my back against a tree. Staring out into the water and taking a second to enjoy the tranquility of the gentle waves rolling about, wetting the sand of the shoreline.

“You’re up early,”

“We need to talk.” I stated curtly before turning to make direct eye contact with him, his face had a slight smile but I could tell it had fallen at my tone.

“Whats wrong?” He asked as he squats near me.

I let out a sigh before telling him what had happened right after he dropped me off. I didn’t forget to mention that I’d told my brother I’d give him some kind of answer in the afternoon and Ao’nung smiled weakly toward me.

“What?” I asked.

“We might need to come clean to the whole group.” He suggests and I’m sure the look on my face showed how scared I was.

“Hey, it doesn’t matter what anyone says, I won’t leave you, little one.”

“Thats not what I’m worried about.”

“Then what?” He asks and looks like he’s about to grab onto my arm comfortingly before I see another teal body coming up and my instant reaction is to shake my head at the action, his arm was only slightly outstretched and I am thankful to all of my senses at that moment

“What are you doing?”

Both our heads snap back up toward the woman standing beside us, her own eyes narrowed as she looks directly at me, then sliding back to her son waiting for his response. I should have known she wouldn’t be talking to me and I’m sure if she were she’d believe I was lying.

“Just asking if we were still meeting up later.” He lies through his teeth and I felt a sense of pride run through me. His mother shifts her gaze at me as if to ask ‘alone?’ I couldn’t help but continue staring at her.

“Tsireya told Kiri to convince Y/n to come,” He adds to let her know we weren’t meeting alone and she turns to look at her son and nods as of she were still processing what he’d said. I turn to look at him as his gaze shifts toward mine and he seems panicked. I raised my brow and look at the sand again, essentially telling him to calm down.

“Very well.” She stated and holds an outstretched hand for him to go toward her. “Excuse us, Y/n,” she bows her head lightly and it shocks me at the respect she had just given me, but I have to remind myself its to keep up appearances.

I’d taken it upon myself to head back to the marui to wake everyone up and get started on our day considering we were slightly busy. The quicker we finished our share of work the more time we could spend together and the best opportunity to tell them while everyone else- including Ao’nungs mother- would continue being busy with their works.

_________

“Where have you been?” Tsireya asks as if to scold me for being the only one to have joined the group late.

“I had to throw our mother off my scent. She already caught us this morning.” I explained and her ears flicker upward.

“Technically I have, like, thirty seconds left before I can tell you-“ I can hear my tawtute speaking as her brother looks angrily toward her. Out of habit, I froze and pretended my attention was elsewhere, completely forgetting for a bit why we were all gathered here.

“Thats bullshit Y/n, tell me what stupid thing you’re hiding.”

“I told you I would let you know if I decided to tell you, not that I would for sure tell you!” She yells back at him.

“Well its already been thirty seconds.” Spider crosses his arms and stares at his tsmuke awaiting an answer.

“It’s been fifteen-“ She sticks her tongue out at him.

“It’s been thirty seconds, Yawne.” I agree with her brother aloud and Spider completely misses the point of what I’d said as he shouts a victory toward Y/n.

“You’re supposed to be on my side.” She stated calmly toward me.

Kiri had stood with her mouth agape as Spider just raised a brow at his sister- still missing how we were acting toward each other. Rotxo had his mouth open while forming a shocked smile, looking between us and Kiri. Lo’ak seemed to have just caught on to what was said as his brows furrow.

“Wait a minute- Yawne?” Spider finally catches on and looks between us in shock and I felt like now would have been a perfect time for Kiri to laugh, but I’m assuming it came as too much of a shock for everyone.

“No way-“ Spider states shocked.

“Oh my Eywa,” Kiri places her hands over her mouth but fails to hide her excitement as she lets out a small squeal.

“I should have known someone tamed the beast,” Rotxo comments with a smirk as he shakes his head in surprise.

“Are you serious?”

All heads turned toward the forest boy who’d uttered those words. It definitely didn’t sound like he had been too happy to find out, but he wasn’t yelling about it either, his voice definitely held a calm tone to it, but it was impossible to ignore the harshness that came with it.

“Lo’ak,” Tsireya begins as his eyes go over toward hers.

“You knew?” He asks in disbelief and her ears flicker down a bit, her face changing to show her apology.

“She only found out yesterday, Lo.” Y/n states upon seeing my sisters immediate change in mood.

“You mean to tell me you told Tsireya before telling anyone else?” He asks a little louder this time.

“Maybe now you can see why we decided to tell her?” She sasses back at Lo’ak.

“Look, Y/n,” He pinches the bridge of his nose as he exhales. “Theres no way you can be with this-“ He points toward me and stops talking.

“You loved my brother.” He stated firmly.

“Yes, I do love Neteyam. But I love Ao’nung too.”

“No you don’t.” He stated just as quick. “You think you do, but you don’t.”

“You love me?” I asked in shock.

“Not now,” She states at me while holding her hand up to acknowledge me but continuing to stare at Lo’ak. “You cannot tell me what I feel. Or are you suddenly becoming your dad and think you know whats best for me?” She asks in anger.

“Guys, we should take a second to cool down.” Kiri breaks their angered animosity toward them and both Lo’ak and Y/n’s faces soften.

“I just-“ Lo’ak states as a sudden realization hits him and he sighs. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, especially since you’ve been hurt before when you didn’t even get to say goodbye. And especially with him.” Lo’ak looks toward me but I can understand why.

“Lo,” Y/n stated softly as she walks toward him and hugs him, knowing how close they were and their kind of relationship I had no reason to be jealous, but wondered if he would hurt her due to his anger from before.

“You’re my tsmukan. And I loved your tsmukan. But moving on is part of the healing.” She stated and he wraps his arms around her.

“I’m sorry,” He apologizes.

“He is good to me, I promise.”

“Sometimes it feels like Lo’ak is a better brother than I am, should I have reacted that way-“ Spider started before letting a loud oof escape his lips, nobody spared him a glance as it was obvious Kiri had smacked him upside the head.

“You break her heart, and I’ll break your face with my fists.” Lo’ak threatens as Y/n giggles.

“I am aware of my actions from the past and have also asked for an apology from all of you. I do not plan to break that trust nor break your tsmuke’s heart. I would also like to point out I was not expecting to be hit in the face that time.” I stated and could hear my tawtute giggling.

“Don’t feel sorry for yourself now Tìyawn,” I can feel her little fingers on my face as I’d failed to hear her come up to me for the first time. She’d stood on a rock behind me to reach me and I’d taken her by the waist to slide her off the rock and holding her close onto myself.

“He hit me many times-“ I pouted and she started laughing.

“Yes, I praised him when I heard the story,”

“Hey!”

“Hey.” She pecks my lips and a chorus of eww’s are heard from our friend group.

“Not like you all don’t kiss each other anyway-“ She sticks her tongue out at them and its my turn to join in on the laughter.

“Are you planning on telling sa’nok and sempul too?” Lo’ak asks and Y/n’s face falls slightly again.

“We’re trying to keep that from happening. Ronal is definitely the last person that needs to know and if we told your parents I’m sure they’d tell her next. And I don’t want to face Neytiri’s wrath from another native woman again.” She shivers and I can tell its a sore subject for her.

“She’ll find out eventually, but it’ll be too late by then, Tìyawn. And I’m not letting you go either, yeah?”

“Yeah,” She agrees as I set her down.