#i felt such a compulsion to run here and quickly scream about this

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine Prt 5

Was this all a dream?

“Wake up.”

Her eyes shot open and a blinding light almost burned through her retina like a magnifying glass to an ant. She shut her eyes tightly, opening them again only this time the light had been replaced with a face you’d love to wake up to every single day. 

Only this face was the face of an unhinged, sadistic murderer with deep-seated obsessive-compulsive personality disorder. So, naturally, Y/N wanted to scream. She wanted to kick and scream. But for some reason, her throat felt as if she’d swallowed glass. Her limbs were bound to a flatbed with no support and it was bone-chilling cold.

Her dry tongue tried to bring moisture to her dehydrated lips but there was no use. The feeling began to over power her limbs. Why does it feel like she’d been running on rocks? She couldn’t wiggle her toes. Why is there cushioning lining the walls? Why is everything so stark white? Why does the door remind her of a prison? 

Still trying to gain her motor skills, Y/N tried moving her head from left to right. She allowed her tired eyes to scan her body as best as she could. Thick leather restraints and rusty buckles kept her imprisoned to the bed. She could taste the fear on her tongue and it was far from pleasant. 

“Hello, Y/N,” a smooth baritone filled her ears, “You’ve been out for a while now. Glad to have you back with us.”

She refused to speak. Who are they? 

“You’ve created quite the ruckus this time around. Had I not saved you from what would have been your death, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

She could feel hot tears pricking her eyes. 

“We had to put you out. Heavily sedate you. I usually don’t agree to this, but you somehow got your hands on a knife from the kitchens. Sadly, I couldn’t help you out of this one. Not when you almost killed me…”

The sound of his dress shoes click-clacked across the polished floor. He seemed to pace back and forth. Y/N kept her eyes on the padded wall. She thought she’d escaped his wrath. She wondered if her sister made it out safely. After everything April had gone through, she deserved to live. As for Y/N, she was the dumb bitch who fell in love with a psycho. 

“Y/N? What are you thinking about?” He questioned with a patient voice.

She couldn’t find it in her to speak. 

“One way or another, you’ll have to talk to me. Even if that means you’ll be tied to this bed.”

He approached her side with slow strides and reached out to stroke her hair back from her face. He then used his knuckle to wipe away her tears before quickly moving his hand away when he realized what he was doing. 

“I care so much about your well-being because I have such a soft spot for you, Y/N. I know I shouldn’t say things like that…but I’ve grown fond of you as my patient.” 

Patient?

Y/N turned her head quickly to look at him. To make sure she’d heard him exactly. She somehow missed the hospital band with the number 67 on it and her name. 

“What?” 

Her voice was cracking. 

“What do you mean patient?”

Drinking him in, he’s wearing a white button down shirt, black slacks with a black belt, and polished black dress shoes. Gold-rimmed specs decorated his obsidian eyes and his hair is loc’d with a crisp tapered fade. A navy blue lanyard hung from his sturdy neck and a laminated badge attached to it. She studied the badge very closely. 

Dr. N’Jadaka Stevens

Dr. N’Jadaka Stevens

Dr. N’Jadaka Stevens

She couldn’t believe it. This can’t be true. A Doctor?

He had a pleasant smile in the picture on the badge. It’s slightly faded and his hair was styled in a kinky fro. 

“We’ve been through this many times before, Y/N,” He took a seat at the foot of the bed, “yes, you are a patient here at Gateway. You’ve been a patient here for over a year now.”

“Wha—no–this–no–no I–I’m not a patient.”

“Hm,” His eyes became sorrowful, “this is the deepest delusion episode you’ve had since being admitted.”

“Delusion?” Y/N squinted her eyes with confusion, “Are you trying to say I’m crazy?”

“No, no,” Erik shakes his head, “You suffer from delusional disorder. It’s what you’ve been diagnosed with.”

“I’m delusional?! Me?! After the way you’ve acted?!”

Erik adjusted his glasses as he stared at Y/N with no emotion. 

“What is this? Another sick game of yours?! Where the fuck am I?!”

A hard knock to the door caused Y/N to jump. 

“Everything is good,” He shouted towards the door. 

A burly man turned his back away from the small panel of glass in the door. 

“What is this place, Erik?” 

“Gateway.”

“This where you keep all of your victims before you murder them?!” Y/N snapped.

He smirked, “No, Y/N, I’m not the psychopath you think I am. Maybe that’s how you see it in your altered reality, but I’m just your psychiatrist.”

Y/N laughed maniacally. 

“Okay! You’ve won! Now let me go!!!”

He stood from the bed. Y/N began to kick and writhe. The bed was mounted to the floor with bolts specifically for this reason. She started becoming light headed from her dehydration and the urge to vomit overcame her. 

“I FUCKING HATE YOU!” She screamed.

“You hate the fantasy you’ve created in your mind. To you, I’m Erik, The one that held you captive, kidnapped your sister, murdered her boyfriend, murdered your ex—”

“YOU DID ALL OF THOSE THINGS! So what is this?! Are you really some twisted doctor?! What are you going to do now, torture me until I beg you to kill me?!!!”

He turned his back on her. He removed his glasses and placed them in his shirt pocket. He couldn’t keep up with the amount of times this has happened. It always ends in this very room. 

“But, would you even do it? Would you do it when I’m pregnant with your baby, Erik? If you kill me, you kill the one link to you. All of those lies about how you would never hurt me,” Y/N broke down crying between sentences, “You lied to me. You don’t love me, you don’t love anyone or anything. You’re not capable of love. All you know is death and heartbreak. You’re fucking crazy. You’re the one that should be tied to this bed, not me. I wish I never fucking met you.”

N’Jadaka shut his eyes slowly. Y/N’s words stung. He knew that she wasn’t well, but why did her made up world hurt his feelings so much? No one can see or know how that made him feel. He’d lose his job and never see her again. 

“Y/N, I’m going to show you something,” He finally turned to look at her, his face expressionless, “This is your file. Your patient file. Everything within this manila folder is between you and I. It’s worn out  because I’ve shown you this file many times before. This is the only solution to your episodes. Showing you proof that THIS is the reality you are in…”

N’Jadaka took long strides towards Y/N. Her chest heaved up and down rapidly as if she were chasing her own breath. He opened the file and held it above her head so that she could read it. The first page was her information, including her diagnosis. Delusion Disorder. She squinted to focus and when the words seemed to connect, her eyes scanned the page. Her brows creased with worry and her lower lip trembled. 

N’Jadaka flipped the page. Now, she was seeing her criminal profile. It was a crime of insanity. Not guilty by reason of insanity. Remaining confined to Gateway. A double homicide. Y/N’s eyelids fluttered and a fresh swell of tears rolled into her hairline. N’Jadaka couldn’t bear the look on her face each and every time. 

“April…Darrell…no…no…I wouldn’t have…”

“I’m sorry, Y/N…”

“This—you made this up. You typed this up to make me look crazy—”

“You murdered your sister and your fiancé in cold blood. You can’t remember any of it because you were having an episode. You blacked out and woke up in handcuffs. This happened almost two years ago, Y/N.”

“No…”

“You’ve been admitted to Gateway Mental Hospital as an inmate and you were assigned to be my patient.”

“This…what is…no…”

She could feel the blood rushing to her head. Her eyes darted back and forth. Visions of blood and the sound of pleads and cries pierced her ears. 

Slash!

Slash!

Slash!

Y/N no! Please, please, I’m so sorry! 

Y/N!!!! Don’t do this!!!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!

Slash!

Slash!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Splatter splatter splatter

I—I’ll always love you…

_________________________

“Time to wake up.” 

Y/N could hear a voice…a sonorous voice. She stood up on wobbling legs and covered her ears. Y/N stumbled and hit the padded white wall behind her. Only one light soaring high above her illuminated the room. She turned to press her face into the soft yet firm wall to hide her eyes. She felt like a vampire. 

She woke up from a dream. She was caressing her pregnant belly while sitting on the beach in the sand. She was alone and there was a sunset. She couldn’t see the man that had her sitting between his legs with her head resting against his chest, but she could see his bloody hands with deep slashes palming her belly. 

Both hands were covered in tattoos. It looked like a scripture with faded ink. Squeezing her eyes tightly, a sharp pain in her temple had her keeled over in pain. She was having a migraine. Y/N was exposed from behind, the curve of her nude cheeks and the smooth dip in her spine on display for whoever could see. 

“Y/N, this is Dr. Stevens. I’m at the door. Please, don’t fight today.”

A loud buzzer sounded off and she leaped away from the padded wall. Dark circles beneath her eyes, Y/N studied the heavy door. It opened and in walked Dr. Stevens with a tray of food. Behind him were two men wearing all white from head to toe. They had disgusted looks on their faces. Maybe that was a disguise, because Y/N could see past the pure hate in their eyes and sense desire. She wanted to rip their eyes out and feed it to them. 

There is a table next to her bed mounted to the floor and Dr. Stevens placed the tray of food there. Y/N cut her eyes to the tray to see what it was. Her stomach rumbled then.

“Turkey and cheese. Apple juice. And a fruit cup.”

Y/N slowly looked up at Dr. Stevens. He was dressed in another white button down shirt again but this time he wore khakis that hugged his tight ass and strapping thighs. Brown loafers on his feet and a gold Rolex completed the look. His gold-rimmed specs were in his shirt pocket again. 

“You haven’t eaten in 24 hours,” N’Jadaka turned to the men, “Go ahead, unchain her.”

The two guards gave each other a look before they both approached her. One man yanked the long chain connected to the cuffs on her wrists while the other crouched down to take the ankle cuff off. Y/N looked down at him with a burning desire to knee him in the face. He could feel her staring, so he looked up and glared at her. 

“Whatchu lookin at, girl?” 

His face was red with anger. 

“Stop looking up my gown.” Y/N warned him.

He chuckled darkly, “you wish I was looking up your gown you crazy bitch—”

“Watch your mouth,” N’Jadaka shoved the guard, “Time to go.” 

The guard got into N’Jadaka’s face. N’Jadaka stared at him with amusement with his hands folded in front of him and his feet wide. 

“You gon’ hit me? Do it. I can have your ass fired in a heartbeat. I know how much of a dirty mother fucker you are. Did you think I forgot?”

The guard's face turned purple.

“Now, I suggest you get out of here. And don’t let me find out you’ve been harassing the female patients again.” N’Jadaka said.

He twisted his lips and clenched his fists but instead of making matters worse for himself, he stormed off leaving the other guard behind. They shut the door with a slam and N’Jadaka looked to the ceiling to calm himself. Every day he has to remind himself that he is a professional and this isn’t the time or place to get into an altercation. He’d already been warned many times in the past and it almost cost his license. 

“Sorry about that,” N’Jadaka exhaled slowly, “I can get a little…why don’t you sit down and eat, Y/N?”

She watched N’Jadaka sit on the bed. 

“Come on, sit.”

Y/N finally took a seat in front of the table. She pulled the tray closer to her with her finger tips. Picking up the sandwich, she slowly took a bite and began mashing it with her teeth. She could feel her teeth chattering as if she were cold. Her leg bounced with nerves and she could feel tears cascading down her cheeks.

“Good?” N’Jadaka questioned.

Y/N simply nodded her head.

“Is today better than yesterday?”

Y/N wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands. She swallowed her food down before speaking.

“What happened to my baby?”

N’Jadaka paused. He leaned forward onto his knees with his elbows before locking eyes with her again.

“…you’re baby never made it, Y/N. You had a miscarriage.”

Y/N touched her belly gently. Her fingers gripped the gown tightly. Now she was bent over wailing into her food. Her tears soaked the bread of her lunch meat sandwich. N’Jadaka watched her cry, his fingers itching to comfort her. Pull her into an embrace. But, he knew he was being watched. The only place he couldn’t be watched was his own office. But Y/N didn’t have outside privileges for another month. 

“I—I just don’t understand any of this shit,” Y/N sniffled, “Why would I kill them? I loved my sister. I—”

“The knowledge of the affair broke you. What you didn’t know, and what your mother failed to tell you, was that your father suffered from the same thing. He had obsessive-compulsive personality disorder and he suffered from delusions. It got so bad that he jumped out of a window to his death. When you started showing signs of the same thing, your mother kept it from you. She felt ashamed to get you the help you needed.”

Y/N couldn’t tell her reality from fantasy anymore. She felt like she was living a lie. 

“April and Darrell didn’t deserve what happened to them, but that doesn’t make you a bad person, Y/N. You’re just ill. I’m here to help you work through that. You’re one of the most difficult patients I’ve ever had but that’s what I love about my job. I will never give up. I’ll find a solution.”

Y/N fidgets with the hem of her gown. The hard metal chair beneath her naked butt made her feel numb. She badly wanted to see her sister. Not bloodied and slaughtered, but smiling and full of life. Memories of Darell made her aware of her delusions at times. She hadn’t met Erik at a poetry reading, it was Darrell. The home on the beach belonged to him as well but there was no glass chamber, sound proof walls, and cuffs to the bed. So why had she replaced Darrell with Dr. Stevens?

“I am a bad person. I killed my sister and my fiancé because I found out they’d been fucking. Cut off the engagement, sure, disown my sister, sure, but murder them in cold blood like I did?”

Y/N pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes to stop herself from crying.

“These cuts on my hands…are from the knife…I used to kill them…”

“Y/N. Breathe. Remember the exercise I taught you. Breathe in and hold for five seconds then release.” 

Y/N did the exercise a few times. 

“It  must feel very frightening to have these nightmares. To have these delusions.” N’Jadaka said.

“…why do I keep seeing you in my delusions as the monster when I’m the monster?”

N’Jadaka stands to pace back and forth in front of her. This was something he did often.

“…Sometimes a person with delusions will treat others as though they are someone else. It’s a reaction to the delusions. It’s a type of delusion called persecutory delusion. It’s when you have a belief of harassment or persecution. It also plays into your OCP.”

Y/N clung onto every word.

“…you’ve somehow decided to see me as the villain because I represent your current life. Your life is confined to these walls,” N’Jadaka placed his hands in his pockets, “you see my face everyday. You speak to me everyday. It shows that you are trying to fight your way through your recent struggles, but also you’re…”

N’Jadaka halted his footsteps. He stopped speaking mid sentence and blinked his eyes rapidly, as if he were remembering where he was. 

“I’m what?” Y/N questioned. 

N’Jadaka looked over his shoulder at the door and then he glanced over at Y/N. He struggled with what he wanted to say, but ultimately, he decided to keep it to himself. For now.

“I think we can end this session for today. I’m going to discuss with the hire-ups about resuming your personal sessions. I feel that with many eyes on us, no matter if they can’t hear, it doesn’t make this personal. Private. Do you understand?”

Y/N stared at N’Jadaka with a bewildered expression. 

“I’m sorry,” N’Jadaka glanced down at his watch, “I have to go for now, it was nice talking to you today.” 

He walked away and knocked on the door. The loud buzzer sounded off again and the door opened. Dr. Stevens left without a backwards glance and the door shut behind him, leaving Y/N alone to her thoughts.

______________________

Curls tangled, nails cut short, and skin dry.

Y/N was in the showers for the first time in a long time. She’s now back in her old room that had normal walls, a softer bed, and better lighting. She has all of the things she enjoyed from puzzles, books, and stress balls to warm sheets. She returned to the circle room that reminded her of a large sunroom where she could do a myriad of activities and even play games with the other patients. All supervised of course. The soft carpet with colorful shapes would feel so good compared to the hard floors in her room and those cozy socks with the sticky bottom would keep her warm and cozy on colder nights.

She was able to comb her hair out, pull it into a messy bun, and she was able to apply lotion to her body. All supervised. Despite looking like the undead with dark circles under her eyes, Y/N felt better. She wondered if they would ever get tired of putting her away for a month in the padded room. She can’t control her delusions. They know this. Y/N walked into the circle room accompanied by two guards and found an empty table near a window. She said hello to some of the patients that she recognized and found herself a puzzle to complete.

Now that she was living her reality, she felt so alone. No family, no friends, no fiancé, no baby. She was going to die alone and crazy. She mustered the little strength left within her to fight back tears. The only person who understood her was Dr. Stevens and she hadn’t seen him in three days. He’s always patient and understanding with her, even when she’s accusing him of being a psycho. Y/N wouldn’t admit it to him, but there was a part of her that couldn’t stop reliving the delusions because she enjoyed the way he made her feel. 

He was attentive, affectionate, and assertive. The sex was amazing. While she sorted through her puzzle pieces, the thought of sex with Dr. Stevens had Y/N squirming in her seat. He would never think of her that way. A murderer who’s crazy? Nah. He probably has a loving family of his own. Probably leaves this hospital every night to go home to a home cooked meal, a hot shower, and wet pussy. He probably kisses his children good night and tucks them in like the good daddy he is. 

The way he defended her and the glint in his eye and the rasp of his voice turned her on something vicious. She’d have thrown herself at him if it wasn’t for her current predicament. She desperately wanted to know what he’d wanted to say to her. Where is he?

Y/N looked up to see the nurses entering. They were bringing around snacks and their second round of meds. Y/N rolled her brown eyes and returned to her puzzle. One of the nurses finally came around and Y/N never put up a fight. She accepted her lorna doone cookies and orange juice. She took her antipsychotics in front of the nurse and washed it down with a small cup of water. She would have to speak to Dr. Stevens about them upping her dosage.

Thirty minutes into her puzzle and loud thunder brought her attention to the window. All the other patients seemed to gravitate towards the windows as well. Y/N closed her eyes and imagined herself dancing in the rain. Gown soaked, the smell in the air, the breeze blowing her curls into her face.

“I enjoy a rainy day myself.”

Y/N turned to see Dr. Stevens. He’s wearing a black long sleeve fitted sweater and dark blue jeans with black dress boots. His badge is clipped to his hip this time and he replaced his gold-rimmed specs with Calvin Klein frames. It must be a casual Friday for the doctors today. 

“Where have you been?” Y/N asked. 

“I took some time off. Another puzzle?”

N’Jadaka made himself comfortable in the seat across from her. He picked up the box to see what the picture looked like since Y/N wasn’t finished. 

“The Disney castle. Cinderella’s castle?”

“Yes…you took time off to do what?”

Dr.Stevens placed the box back down and cut his eyes to Y/N. She clenched her thighs shut.

“To see other patients. You’re not the only patient I treat, Y/N.”

Y/N tilted her head at him.

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

Y/N leaned into the table with her elbows, making herself closer to Dr. Stevens.

“I thought that I was the most difficult patient you’ve ever had?”

N’Jadaka picked up a puzzle piece, “yes. But I have to put in time with other patients as well.”

“I don’t like it,” Y/N cleared the table and placed the puzzle box at the end of the table, “what if I have another episode? I almost killed you, remember?”

“Breathe,” Dr. Stevens spoke with a hushed tone, “After dinner you will resume sessions with me in my office. Don’t worry, we can talk for an entire two hours about anything.”

“…and you’ll tell me what you wanted to say the last time but couldn’t?”

N’Jadaka lowered his gaze to his hands and his mouth twitched slightly. 

“Breathe,” Y/N smirked.

“I have to go. Finish your puzzle. It keeps you focused.”

N’Jadaka rose from his seat and took one final look at Y/N before walking away and out of the circle room. 

__________________________

Y/N adjusted the oversized heather gray pullover she had on that matched the sweatpants covering her lower half. The guard that had the chain to her cuffs stopped in front of Dr. Stevens’ office door. He knocked twice and she became jittery. The guard, Anthony is his name, looked down at her with annoyance. Y/N couldn’t recall the last session she had with him in his office, but she were nervous. No cameras. Just him and her.

“Thank you.” 

Released, Y/N walks into the office and Dr. Stevens shuts the door behind her. Everything about Dr. Stevens' office screamed welcoming. The soothing colors surrounding her promoted a sense of calm and relaxation. The artwork on the walls told Y/N a little something about him. Art of the African diaspora. As her eyes scanned the walls, she came across the tribal mask she’d seen many times in her delusions. The mask Erik had worn the night he gunned down the kind man behind the club. 

Plants decorated window sills, comfortable seating whether on the floor or a chair, and nothing distracting and triggering crowded the space. It smelled clean, and it felt like home. Y/N took a seat on a tufted dark gray chaise and propped her legs up. 

“Welcome back, Y/N.”

“Feels good to be back,” Y/N pulled on the sleeves of her sweater anxiously.

“How was your day?” N’Jadaka asked.

“Better than I thought. I didn’t have a nightmare last night.”

“Oh? That’s good to hear, Y/N. I’m proud of you.”

“Ha,” Y/N shook her head bashfully, “don’t say things like that.”

“That I’m proud of you?” N’Jadaka questioned.

“What is there to be proud of?”

“You’re improving.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why’s that?”

“Why’s that?” Y/N echoed, “Well, I’m still having episodes.”

“Fewer episodes. You’re getting better.” N’Jadaka clarified.

“I’ll feel better when it stops.”

N’Jadaka crossed his arms over his chest.

“You keep having these delusions so frequently because something is triggering it.” 

Y/N creases her brows. 

“Elaborate.”

“Let’s see,” N’Jadaka rolled up his sleeves and took a seat in front of Y/N on an ottoman, “You have these delusions because you still haven’t forgiven yourself for what happened. You want to blame everyone else around you instead of accepting what happened as truth. That’s one part of it. Another part is…your desire for me.”

Y/N leisurely looked up at N’Jadaka. They stayed that way for a moment, just staring at each other, never turning away. Y/N’s eyes welled with tears and she took her sweater to wipe her eyes.

“Is it that obvious?” She said between sniffing, “Am I really that messed up?”

“I never implied that,” N’Jadaka smoothed his hands down his face, “Desiring me doesn’t make you messed up.”

“Why do you give a fuck?” Y/N sassed.

“I’m supposed to—I’m your doctor—”

“N’Jadaka,” Y/N spoke softly, “Tell me how to get over you.”

N’Jadaka nibbled on his bottom lip. He shook his head and stood up from the ottoman. Why was he struggling with this? Having feelings for your patient? That’s completely inappropriate. 

He had to come up with a response that was the complete opposite of what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her that he didn’t want her to get over him. He desires her just as much as she does him.

“…I keep thinking about the way Erik made me feel,” Y/N was staring off into the corner, lost in her words, “He has his demons, and he is a sadistic person, but he did it all for me. I was his world. He loved me and made love to me. And while I’m having sex with Erik in my delusions, it’s your face that I see.”

“…I told you why that is, Y/N, and why you have to let go. Every bit of information I’ve given you isn’t to steer you wrong. I can’t begin to imagine the struggle—”

“Ain’t no breathing or meds or forgiveness gonna stop me from wanting you, Erik.”

N’Jadaka locked eyes with Y/N. 

“I’m not Erik, my name is N’Jadaka. And you refer to me as Dr. Stevens.” N’Jadaka reminded her with a stern voice. 

“How long will it take for you to admit your feelings for me? Hm?”  Y/N threw her legs over the side of the chaise, standing up, “This back and forth is getting old. You said that we could talk about anything, right? Let’s talk about Erik.”

“Fine. Fine.”

N’Jadaka motioned for Y/N to have a seat. She didn’t recline back this time. Her back is ram-rod straight and she’s staring across at N’Jadaka like she wanted to eat him alive. He kept the connection going, watching her closely. 

“I thought you said that you hated Erik?”

Y/N pondered.

“I hate the way he makes me feel. He makes me feel helpless and complete at the same time. It’s scary. Like…being here kind of does.”

“Helpless and complete. Helpless in the fact that you can’t do anything about being here and complete…I’m going to be honest, what exactly makes you feel complete about your life now?”

Y/N stroked hair out of her face, “when I’m by myself…in my head…I feel…I feel alone. When I’m with you…I feel better. The hole in my chest fills up again.”

N’Jadaka’s jaw clenched. 

“Yes, you’re Erik in my delusions, but you’re Dr. Stevens in my reality. It keeps me balanced.”

_________________________________

When N’Jadaka had first laid eyes on Y/N, he could see how broken she was. He has all kinds of patients with many behavioral disorders. Sociopaths, PTSD, obsessive compulsions, phobias. And yet, when he’d seen Y/N and learned of what she’d done after reading her patient profile, N’Jakada could see that she was different. Her case of delusions was something beyond what N’Jadaka had ever imagined. 

To Y/N, her  psychiatrist knows her inner thoughts and feelings better than anyone. She can say anything to him and he doesn't judge her, but only seems to understand her better. She feels safe and comforted whenever she sees him. He knows just when to hand her a tissue when she's about to cry, and they share laughs together because her sense of humor is so like his. She finds herself looking forward to sessions and even wondering what to wear. She daydreams about him and wonders if he feels the same special connection to her. Perhaps she's become his favorite patient.

“…These are typical experiences of what occurs in many forms of psychotherapy that focus on exploring and understanding the patient's inner psychological life known as transference. It means that the patient is transferring feelings she has toward a parent or authority figure, onto the therapist…”

“…Erik is like an authority figure to you. He controls you. He keeps you handcuffed to his bed and you can never leave that beach house. He’s overprotective. Dominant. Unhinged. I’m hoping, Y/N, that you’ll gain some insight into your distortions onto other relationships in your life. With my help, you can come to grips with this pattern, put your distortions into perspective and move on with your life.” 

N’Jadaka tapped the pin in his hand against his notepad. Y/N sat wringing her hands, a nervous energy surrounding her. Maybe he was right. Maybe she didn’t actually love N’Jadaka. 

“I’m going to put you under,” N’Jadaka stood up and walked over to Y/N, “I want you to lay back and prop your feet up for me…good…now, close your eyes…that’s it…now, listen to the sound of my voice…”

Erik stood behind her while she reclined on the chaise. Her fingers are clasped over her abdomen and she looks like a sleeping beauty. He studied the contours of her beautiful features–more so her lips, and then he cleared his thoughts to speak.

“You’re at the luxury beach house. You can sense that the morning is approaching. As your eyes peel open, you scan the room and reality hits you. You’re cuffed to the bed once again…what have you done this time to upset Erik?”

Below him, Y/N’s breathing increases. Her face is contorted with fear and she brings her arms above her head to mimic the position that Erik has her in. 

“You can hear him coming into the room from the bathroom…what does he look like to you?”

Y/N licks her lips, “He–he’s naked.”

“Naked?” N’Jadaka’s eyes drop down to stare at her, “why is he naked?”

“I…I can smell the YSL body oil he puts on after he showers. It’s sweet yet…woodsy.”

N’Jadaka uses YSL body oil. He makes a mental note of that detail.

“So he’s taken a shower? What happens next?”

Y/N’s eyelids move rapidly. 

“He crawls on top of me..I scream…he covers my mouth…”

Y/N folds her lips into her mouth to mimic Erik’s hand covering her.

“He says…don’t scream…I won’t hurt you…I love you.”

“Do you believe him?” N’Jadaka questioned.

Y/N arched her back, thrusting her chest towards N’Jadaka. His eyes scan her body, wondering what is happening now.”

“What’s happening, Y/N? What is Erik doing to you?”

“H–he’s sucking my nipples.”

N’Jadaka arched a single brow, “So, you’re naked as well?”

“Yes,” Y/N exhaled, “He prefers me naked so that I’m ready for him.”

“Hm,” N’Jadaka grips the edge of the chaise, “Why do you keep giving into him?”

“Because he’s so addictive. No matter what he does…oh!”

N’Jadaka walks around the chaise, staring down at Y/N. He could feel his heart racing in his chest.

“What is it?” He questioned.

“Yessss,” Y/N raised her legs and spread them open, “Mmmm…just like that…”

“You seem to be enjoying Erik’s pleasures,” N’Jadaka didn’t move when her foot touched his chest. 

“Erik…why do you make me feel the way you do?”

N’Jadaka parted his lips but no words came out. Y/N’s sock covered foot smoothed down his chest until it was on his crotch. N’Jadaka inhaled, his fists tightly clenched as Y/N started massaging his erection with her foot. He couldn’t believe how hard he was. She would use her toes to rub the print of his tip and then she would slowly drag her foot up his shaft. He could feel himself throbbing and it ached him. 

“Time to wake up, Y/N.”

To his disappointment, her foot dropped, but the throbbing didn’t stop. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this turned on. N’Jadaka took a seat on the ottoman to try and hide his stiffness when Y/N sat up. Her curly hair was wild and the sweater she was wearing was hanging from her left shoulder. 

“You want to remain in these delusions because of Erik. I…I think it’s because of me and…maybe…”

“Maybe what?” Y/N said.

“Maybe it’s best that I stop being your psychiatrist. I feel that I am a trigger for you.”

Y/N was taken aback. 

“Where the fuck is this even coming from?” Y/N argues. 

“Watch your language,” N’Jadaka stood up, “I want you to get better. In order to do that, I have to make this sacrifice. I don’t want to—”

“Then don’t.” 

N’Jadaka looked at her, “It would be for the best—”

“For you? Or for me? Who are we really talking about right now?”

N’Jadaka sighed, “For the both of us.”

“Explain!” Y/N commanded.

“Lower…your…voice.”

N’Jadaka turned his back on her. The silence between them stretched on but the storm raging outside matched their inner turmoil. 

“Or what?” 

N’Jadaka placed his pad and pen on his desk. Y/N’s eyes scanned from his sturdy back all the way down to his legs. His arms are covered in bulging veins from his fists being clenched. 

“This stays between me and you.”

He turns, removing his glasses. He didn’t look away from her as he folded his frames before placing them on the desk. Y/N held her breath.

“I’ve grown to have feelings for you, Y/N. Feelings that I know I shouldn’t have. I try every time to–to be professional when it comes to you…but I can’t. I’ve become obsessed.”

Y/N couldn’t believe what she was hearing. 

“…And I know that I shouldn’t. Which is why we have to stop these sessions. There is another great psychiatrist here, Dr. Jane—”

“No. I refuse to see that bitch.”

“You know who she is?” 

“Yeah, and I don’t like her. I like you. So no. You’ll just have to fight the urges.”

N’Jadaka stroked his chin, “And will you?”

Y/N turned away from him and looked out of the window.

“You have to make me that promise, Y/N.”

“That’s the thing,” Y/N stood and made her way towards Dr. Stevens, “I don’t want to…”

“Then we can’t do this,” N’Jadaka looked down on her with his arms folded, “You know what happens if they find out? I lose my job. My practice. I will never get to see you again. You’ll never get better.”

Y/N looked up at N’Jadaka through her lashes, “No one has to know…”

N’Jadaka chuckles. Those dimples she loved appeared in his cheeks. 

“Easier said than done—Y/N, what are you doing?”

She’s on her knees in front of him now. N’Jadaka doesn’t make any attempts to stop her despite his words.

“Get up, now. I don’t want to have to pick you up myself.” He warned her. 

“I like how demanding you can be,” She smirked.

He fought the urge to smirk and Y/N giggled.

“I plan to be here for the rest of my life, N’Jadaka.”

“Fifteen years isn’t the rest of your life.”

“That’s if I’m being good,” Y/N traces N’Jadaka’s solid girth with her finger, “and I don’t want to be good…and I think you like it when I’m bad, right?”

N’Jadaka grunts. 

“Stop doing that.” He spoke darkly.

“Or…what?” Y/N challenged.

_____________________________

Somehow his pants found their way down to his ankles. His briefs were there too. 

The tightest mouth was practically inhaling his dick. Tip to base. He couldn’t believe it. Not what he was doing, but how impressive it is that she could fit him all the way down her throat. That shocked him more than her sucking his dick like those popsicles on a hot summer day. 

He was unbelievably hard. Each pass of her soft lips, wet tongue, and tight throat had him groaning. He lost all control and gripped her by her curly hair, guiding her. His hips started pumping as she was sucking and he imagined himself bending her over doing the same to her pussy. 

This was madness. How long before he comes to his senses? 

“Fuuck,” N’Jadaka spoke with a low register, “Suck that fuckin’ dick…”

He couldn’t hold back. Professionalism where?

He twitched in her mouth when she started slowly sucking on his top. He could feel his balls tighten.

“Y/N…that’s it…you’re such a bad girl…”

“…such a bad girl…yes…suck this dick like you would suck Erik’s dick…mhm…all the way down…that’s it…mhmmmm…”

She was back to doing it with no hands. N’Jadaka was staring at her with knitted brows and his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Does Erik make you swallow?” He questioned with a whisper.

Y/N nods her head.

“You better swallow every fucking drop of my cum, Y/N.”

Stroking him, she started sucking on his sack. 

“I bet that pussy is so wet…”

She popped her mouth off, “It is…for you.”

“I can’t wait to see it for myself.”

She ran her tongue up the length of his shaft and back down to his balls. She twisted his length at the base of his tip and N’Jadaka could feel pre-cum oozing from his slit to prepare for his release. 

“I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long…that perfect ass…that pretty mouth…those eyes…I beat my dick to you in bed at night…”

“I play in my pussy at night because of you, Doctor,” Y/N looked up at him while stroking him, “and I can show you just how I do that anytime you want…”

“You’re such a freak…”

“And so are you,” Y/N smiled, “This dick is so fat..”

“Stop playing with it and suck it.”

Y/N alternates between sucking his tip and balls. It was the way she took care of him that had him lost for words. All he could do was grunt and moan. Tongue on the underside of his length, N’Jadaka groaned and the sound was deep and sultry. He kept his eyes locked with hers as he coached her to bring him to climax. Over and over she would bring him closer and closer. 

N’Jadaka wasn’t prepared for the way his body seized all control. It hit him so suddenly. He quickly grabbed Y/N by the hair and shoved his hard dick into her mouth. He took control and pumped her mouth like a mad man. Spit flying and her gags filling the room, N’Jadaka spurt deep down her throat. His hips stuttered out of control the more she emptied him. 

“Look what you made me do.”

His saliva covered dick bounced in her face. The thinnest stream of cum dropped from his tip and Y/N used her tongue to clean him off. 

“Get up. We only have fifteen minutes left.”

N’Jadaka stepped out of his pants and took off his shirt. Y/N couldn’t believe how identical his body is to Erik’s. Muscles covered his entire frame. He had a thickness to him that screamed pick me up and toss me around. 

He did just that. 

N’Jadaka laid her down on the chair and started undressing her. She helped him so things could move along quicker. He climbed between her legs and took a nipple into his mouth. Y/N moaned softly, this feeling so foreign to her. She couldn’t recall the last time in reality that she had her nipples sucked on. To see this fine ass man do it and WANT to do it had her lost for words.

“That feels so good…please don’t stop, N’Jadaka.”

Y/N pressed her nose into his neck and inhaled his scent. He was warm to the touch and soft yet sturdy. 

N’Jadaka popped a nipple out of his mouth, “I want that pussy in my mouth…”

Y/N shoved his head down between her legs. His teeth dragged over the skin of her abdomen before finding the mass of curls between her legs. That turned him on even more. Frustratingly, N’Jadaka positioned Y/N so that she was slightly on her side with one leg elevated and the other bent out of the way. He got down on his knees and spread her outer lips with his tongue. 

“Ooooh, shit,” Y/N’s thighs shook out of control, “Dr. Stevens…”

With a fist full of his locs, she rode the pleasure. He had his entire face buried between her hairy pussy lips and he didn’t give a fuck. All she could see was his nose pressed into her mound and his eyes shut. He was making all kinds of sounds down there like some primal animal. That tongue and those plump lips were working overtime to make her cum. Whenever she would move her legs, he would force them back. His hands were firm and at times it hurt the way he was holding her legs. His tongue was unrelenting. His lips were lapping her up as if it were his last supper. 

“Unh, fuck,” Y/N couldn’t say much else. He had spit dripping from her pussy. He had her clit swollen and sensitive. He was doing things with his mouth that she never felt before. Tongue in her pussy? Never. He had her muttering incoherent words when he used the tip of his tongue to flick her clit. 

When he started sucking on her clit, Y/N had to cover her mouth to keep quiet. He opened his eyes then and watched her closely. It was an unspoken command to shut the fuck up and take it. What good will it do to make it known that he was eating her pussy? If she made a sound, it would mean no more of this in the future. Y/N couldn’t have that. Dr. Stevens couldn’t have that. 

She couldn’t explain the way he was sucking on her inner folds. No words could describe it. He did it like he waited his entire life for this moment. The desire he felt for her resonates with the way his lips suckled her expertly. She could hear the raunchy sounds and to her shock he even dragged his tongue through her wet curls. 

Y/N bites down on her lip, drawing blood, fighting with all her might to not moan out loud. When he started sucking all over her pussy with his hands on the back of her knees, leaving not one spot untouched, Y/N’s mouth dropped open and her eyes crossed. Toes curling, thighs shaking, body convulsing, she came in his mouth. The hold she had on his locs was enough to scalp him. 

N’Jadaka finally came up for air. His heavy breathing and wet beard turned her on so badly. 

“We only have eight minutes…”

He didn’t waste time picking her up and carrying her over to his desk. He pushed all of his belongings out of the way with a rush and sat her on the edge of his desk. She let him move her body in whatever position he wanted her in. He decided on holding her by her ankles up in the air and whispered in her ear to hold on. 

“Keep still, Y/N. When I put this dick in you…you better not make a sound, understand?”

Y/N nodded her head and N’Jadaka wasted no time sinking deep inside of her. His eyes shot up to give her a warning look to keep quiet but how could she when he thrust inside of her like that? She wasn’t prepared. It’s one thing to have delusions about the dick, but to feel it in reality? He stretched her good.

N’Jadaka for a moment couldn’t believe how tight she was. He began snapping his hips into hers, wanting to feel it again, watching the way his dick would enter her. There was a lot of wetness down there. He almost slipped out a few times. Y/N had to hold his waist with one hand. His locs fell into his eyes and it reminded her of Erik. The way he stroked her reminded her of Erik. 

“I wish I could take you home with me,” He whispered between strokes. 

“So you can do what?” Y/N asked with a seductive tone.

“So I can put you like this and in any other position I want.”

“You love this fucking pussy?” 

“Yes,” N’Jadaka pressed forward and held his dick there, “I don’t have to ask if you love this dick, I can tell…look at all this mess.”

Y/N’s eyes fell to the creamy mess all over him. 

“Didn’t know that pussy could do that, huh?” He whispered.

Y/N’s mouth fell open but no sound came out. Tears fell down her cheeks because of his words and because he was hitting her spot. He picked her up and dropped her down onto his dick. She let him take control of her body. She was so small compared to him. 

“Daddy, I can’t take it like this,” Y/N said.

“I’m daddy now? You’re gonna take it like a good girl.”

Y/N felt as if she was ready to burst, “Wait—”

“You pushing?” He looked down, “Don’t squirt…”

She didn’t listen. Thankfully it wasn’t a lot.

“You don’t listen, Y/N.”

N’Jadaka pressed her back against the desk and he was practically on top of her, dropping ten inches deep. She gasped, unable to control the liquid that followed. At this point N’Jadaka didn’t care. He was close. She felt amazing. What did he get himself into?

“This my fucking pussy…”

She didn’t argue that. 

“Don’t look away from me,” He commanded, “I want you to look at me when you cum.”

Y/N was in a trance staring up at him. Her body jerked beneath him and as her back arched, she came all over him, making even more of a mess. 

“Ahhhh, yes,” He withdrew his hips and came all over her stomach, “Hmmmm…”

N’Jadaka bit down on her shoulder. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck.  She wanted to stay like this. With his cum sticking to her flesh and his still hard dick resting between the lips of her pussy. 

“We have to get dressed…”

Reluctantly, he peeled himself from her embrace. He helped Y/N down from the table and she rushed to get her clothes on. They were all dressed in time for Anthony to come knocking on the door. One last look at Y/N and N’Jadaka grabbed her by the face to kiss her. He hadn’t kissed her the entire time. 

He broke the kiss, “Give us a second.”

His tongue slithered into her mouth and they kissed like that for what felt like five minutes. 

“Alright,” he pulled away after she sucked on his bottom lip, “You have to get back to your room. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Y/N pressed her face into his chest to remember his scent. 

“I’m looking forward to it, Dr. Stevens.”

N’Jadaka grabbed her by the hand and squeezed while his other hand tapped her on the ass. He walked her to the door and finally let go of her hand. Opening the door, Anthony was waiting patiently with her cuffs. She fought hard not to look back at him because it would give too much away.

“Same time, after dinner.” 

Anthony started making his way down the hall pulling Y/N along, reminding her that she was imprisoned to this place.

@goddessofthundathighs​ @theegoldenchild​ @hearteyes-for-killmonger​ @imagining-greatness @chaneajoyyy​ @uzumaki-rebellion​ @theeblackmedusa​ @daddiespamm​ @lisayourworries​ @bellleame​ @ratedbadgal​ @bombshellbre95​ @cecereads209​ @cancerianprincess​ @dameshaemonique​ @6lack-1otus​ @thickemadame​ @thickeeparker​ @stinkalinkkkk​ @1lavender-menace @ehniki​ @electrixit​ @prettyisasprettydoes1306​ @washillary​ @bakarisprincess​ @melodicheauxxlovesfood​ @bxolux​ @sweet2krazee​ @bluesole16​ @90sisthenew80s​ @ispywithmylileye​ @geemamii​ @unbotheredblackchild​ @nubianbabee​ @adoreesun​ @honeyandpeaches10​ @blackpinup22​ @nayaxwrites​ @dersha89​ @honeytoffee​ @thickianaaaa​ @modelmemoirs​ @why-wait-4-eventually @angelicniah​ @queenfaithmarie​ @soulfulbeauty19​ @asweet-serendipity​ @kartierkitten​ @iamching07​ @ladymac82​ @bbygirlwiththatass​ @cydneyloo​ @sexysativa605​ @chrisevans-world​ @aijha​ @novaniskye​ @princessxotwod​ @callmemckenzieee​ @blowmymbackout​ @lahuttor​ @momobaby227​ @blackerthings​ @neesiewrote​ @kenbieee​  @palmstreesallday​ @kokokonako​ @richgirlaesthetics​ @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat​ @beautybyfire​ @abluesforlyssa​ @xo-goldengirl​ @mbakuetshurisprincess​ @4ftwonder​ @raysunshine78​ @sensitivelegend​ @sourbabynaee​ @gotbeefbitch-blog​ @joonswan​ @cool-fancyone​ @efonteno​ @akimi-youngblood​ @badassdoll​ @shyblackgurl​ @childishgambinaax​ @teheeboo​ @skylahb​ @gigafaex​ @readingaddict1290​ @circeaphoenix​ @xsweetdellzx​ @carewornblackgirl​ @queengodiva619​ @certifiedlesbianbaddie​ @seyven89​  @jamaicanqueenaa​ @soufcakmistress​ @eyeknowmywrites​

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

I was wondering what Cabin in the Woods reminded me of and it finally dawned on me… Blond hair, artistic abilities, isolation from the world, parental manipulation…

IT ALMOST SCREAMS "TANGLED" 💃🌼

(I have no idea why you need this information and I just wanted to share it lol)

Lol I love Tangled. When will my life begin is my A.D.H.D anthem! And I’ve actually thought about this before and totally see the comparison, especially when I write scenes that are either super emotionally manipulative or centered around Spiders hair.

I’m super eager to share more Cabin in the Wood as I continue to write it so here’s a longer snippet with some context. In one of the endings where Spider has been with Quaritch for over three years he develops Trichotillomania ( compulsive hair pulling) due to the prolonged stress of his captivity. His dad catches on and gives him a buzzcut to get him to stop, so this is a chunk of that scene but from Quaritch’s perspective.

**************************************************************************************************

He made his way outside finding his son standing by the chair, shifting around nervously. Junior was smart. He definitely knew what was about to happen. Miles Sr took the clippers in hand snapping on the number two guard. “Well, sit down. The faster we get started, the faster it’ll be done.”

Junior paled at the sight. “Pa…that’s gonna be really short. Can’t I….”

His big brown eyes pleaded with him to not do this. Miles Sr felt guilt begin to creep its way in but he quickly snuffed it out, harshly cutting his son off, “Jesus Miles, I swear you're worse than a girl. It’s not like it won’t grow back.”

Junior took a small step back, clearly wanting to run. “But...aren’t I old enough to get a choice?”

“No.” The father said simply. Not when you hurt yourself, he thought. “As long as I’m breathin’ you'll never be old enough. Because I’m the parent and you're the child. What I say goes. Now stop arguin’ back and sit down.”

His son hesitated for a moment, scanning his surroundings for some kind of escape. Realizing there was none he finally sat down, gripping the arms of the chair for dear life. “That’s my good boy,” Miles Sr said gently, as he guided his son’s head to the side. Junior was already so tense and scared. Maybe this wasn’t the right course of action.

No, that was just his emotions talking. This was for the best. For Junior’s own good.“Trust me son, you’re gonna feel a lot better after this.” His bad habit will stop. He’ll be happy again. That’s what Miles Sr needed to believe. He tried to do it as fast as possible, having the right side of Junior’s head shorn in just four passes. His son had his face scrunched up as if he was in pain, holding his breath as the clippers moved from the top of his head to the base of his neck. About half way through was when his boy went numb staring off into the distance completely dead eyed.

He’ll thank me later when he’s not balding, Miles Sr thought as he tilted Junior’s limp head to the left to finish his task. This is for the best. “There,” he was done, piles of honey blond curls laying at their feet, “quick and painless.” Junior didn’t move. Miles Sr ruffled what was left of his son’s hair in an attempt to get a reaction. His boy remained as lifeless as a rag doll. “Y’a look good.” Junior was a handsome boy. He’d look good no matter what. But truthfully the father hated it. The cut made his son look older, and with his watery, shell shocked eyes he reminded him of the prisoners of war he’d rescued during his marine days. It tore him up inside seeing his once happy little boy like that.

[miswaken]

@sisterforsaken asked ❛ it’s dangerous to be out so late. ❜ random dialogue prompts || accepting

Capturing late night shots of Central Park's lake seemed like a good idea at the time -- except maybe it was less of a good idea and more of a compulsion. Something scratching at the back of her mind, an incessant need to capture the way the city lights floated in the water's dark reflection. Alice isn't a stranger to artistic whims and the ebb and flow of inspiration, but this felt like something else. A dream, almost -- as though she'd sleepwalked her way here while wide awake. She isn't sure what snaps her out of it, but all at once Alice becomes starkly aware of her surroundings and of just how dark it's gotten since she left home.

Late as it is the park isn't empty, just as nothing in the city ever really is. The main paths are lined with lights, but they don't reach far. She forces her gaze straight ahead at the pathway, refuses to let her mind wander into the shadows oozing out from every bench and bush and tree along the way. Her breath comes rapid and shallow and it can't entirely be attributed to how quickly she's walking -- almost running now. Her sweaty palms vice-grip around the strap of the camera bag across her chest, her jaw clenched so tight it's making her head ache.

When someone approaches her, cutting into her vision as though they'd melted out of the shadows, Alice nearly screams. Torn between her fight and flight instinct her feet falter and root to the spot, and she whips her head around to find--

Mary Reid. It doesn't seem strange that in a city of millions she'd run into a familiar face. Or, rather, she's too caught up in her own tunnel vision to question the coincidence in the moment. Her heart hammers wildly as the other woman says something in regards to Alice's safety, but the blood is rushing so loudly in her ears she only catches half of it. If she had the wherewithal to care about how she must look, Alice would be appalled. As it is, all she feels is the nauseas knot of an oncoming panic attack tightening in her chest.

"I got caught up with... a project," she blearily explains. "Time got away from me, I just want-- I'm just trying to get home."

[reviewsfornone]

Crackhead Barney

Cooning into the Metaverse One Day at a Time Hopefully !!!, 2022

Icebox Project Space, Philadelphia, PA, USA

A thorough Artist. During the first twenty seconds of this performance, Crackhead Barney instructed me to pull a red tampon out of her vagina after revealing that she was on her period. She then put it in her mouth and threw it on the stage. Later she instructed a white actor to feed me melted ice cream off the hands previously licked by the entire row. I was the last seat in my row. I was not a part of the cast nor did I know what the performance would entail. Crackhead Barney put on an amusing performance that may be the rowdiest I have ever seen someone in their right mind. I will not go into detail as to what was offered specifically by the performance's individual phases. It seemed like the structure of having a theme to a sketch was also satirized, everything seemed to be made fun of, I couldn’t even get the sense that Crackhead Barney actually cared about the show being “good” because that could also be made fun of. Most of her comedy was aimed at white supremacy, America, white people/whiteness, the state, corrupt people, respectability politics, and reactionary crowds alike but some of the skits surprisingly had no ideological grounding and were instead indulgences in wet and messy fetishism coupled with crude body humor. The show didn’t feel sexual really, it felt intimate like a baby handing you a wet Cheeto, staring at you to ensure you enjoy it. 

There was a point in the end when she asked the crowd what they learned from the performance or something to that effect (such a funny set-up) and an old man said something like “I learned that black people can be racist too.” And she along with the whole cast and a few crowd members who got familiar quickly all started running and screaming. I understand both perspectives. The man felt attacked and perhaps alienated by the performance because he was often the butt end of brutal and brutish jokes, some of which are in fact ignorant, and do not exhibit empathy for white people, she’s laughing because here is this white man claiming that she is aggressing him when a) he paid to be there b) her work, and therefore her approach, speaks for itself, it lives outside of the compulsion to be beholden to the rules of the real world, she is an artist creating a fiction c) did he expect that Crackhead Barney would not make jokes about white people (in addition to other races)? d) is he unfamiliar with Crackhead Barney’s work and accidentally watched exactly the opposite of what he wanted to see!? It seems like getting offended by a Crackhead Barney performance is more importantly a reminder of the privilege you hold, and the worry you fear about the Woke-left wielding too happily the hammer of judgment. The thing is, Crackhead Barney is not Woke-left, she is an artist whose artistic style operates on the level of repulsion, pure embodied anarchy, human touch, autonomy, existential dread, social ostracization, and criticism. At the very least, she has a lot of endurance to keep up such a filthy act. 

The stuff she does on the street, contained within whatever form, seems freer though I gotta say, maybe perhaps because on the street one is beholden to the intangibility of performance length, and the juxtaposition between real life and art event is harsher. I think most of the audience knew what they were getting into with Cooning into the Metaverse One Day at a Time Hopefully !!! and that gave the work a response that lends to less sadistic gratification, it just doesn’t hit the same as the videos because in public enthusiasm isn’t always the thing she is met with, leading to funny power struggles and a range of perceptions of what is actually happening. I think someone should just pay her to do exactly what she is doing on the street without any stipulations about uploading the material to any platform or performing to any sized crowd, no parameters, no analytics, just the phenomenon that is Crackhead Barney.

[cotgar2]

A little late but I just saw Greed’s live action outfit and I’m…. best word I can think of rn is mortified

In case you missed it, this is it

[btsgotjams27]

Sweet Tooth ~ JJK | 2

✨ title: sweet tooth (On going) | series ✨ pairing: vampire!jungkook x f!donor reader ✨ rating: 18+ ✨ genre/au: vampire au, eventual romance, slow build, slow burn, eventual smut ✨ warnings: blood drinking, vampire bites, compulsion/mind control, mysterious jungkook, mentions of death, needles (will add warnings as chapters are posted) ✨ summary: Bills and rent are piling up, so your roommate suggests you look into a gig she stumbled upon. But it's not what you expect. OR Jungkook runs a vampire blood bank and you service clients with your blood. ✨ playlist | ✨ read on AO3 | Wattpad

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] | next ~ the decision

✨ chapter two ~ the first bite | word count: 4.5k

Three days. Three days before donating.

The crunch from Jimin's bite rang in your ears now and again, reminding you of the pain you'd have to endure.

You lay sprawled out in bed, mulling the whole thing over. Was this job worth the risk? It's just money...but then again, a one-time donation would help pay rent and then some. Maybe you could just do this job a few times before having your memories wiped. You didn't care about having your memories wiped, at least you'd have money. That could work, right? Plus, you'd only have to donate your blood twice a month, potentially making ten grand a month. This was the rationalization you came to, trying to convince yourself that this job would be worth it in the long run.

"Oh god, I'm so stupid...what am I getting myself into?" you mumbled, before rolling over onto the pillow, screaming endlessly into it.

Two days. Two days before donating.

You sat at your desk, hoping, praying, pleading that an email would come in from the jobs you applied to, but your email was just mocking you at this point. No new emails or phone calls. Suddenly, a ding went off on your laptop, maybe it's the email you were just praying about, the one thing that would save you from this whole mess. When you read the first line, 'your payment is due soon', was not something you were hoping for.

You tap your phone screen, unlock it with your pin, check your messages again, and reread the text, confirming your first donation.

Just a quick appointment reminder.

July 15

7:00 PM

See you soon! - Jimin

There were so many questions you wanted to ask Ji-na but she had been spending most of her time with Taehyung instead of coming home. It was something she had begun to do for a while now but it would be nice to have her here for moral support, to walk you through this whole thing. You were tempted to call and ask if she'd come home but you didn't want to make it seem like you weren't able to do this. In all honesty, you were scared shitless--mostly of the pain.

One day. One day before donating. You tried everything to distract yourself from the inevitable fate of the job you said yes to; from baking to binging a new TV show, hell you even tried to read a book, which you haven't done in years...but nothing was working.

Ji-na was nowhere to be seen except for that time she came home to quickly grab a change of clothes while you were out running errands. She left your favorite candy, a Snickers bar on top of your laptop with a note saying, "See you tomorrow. Love you, you're gonna do great. xo."

Gonna do great? What does that even mean? Has she gone deep down this vampire rabbit hole that it became normal? Did she even feel pain anymore or did it become pleasurable, something that she craved? Again, so many questions but none could be answered.

It was D-day. T-minus 1 hour before donating.

You were counting down to the last minute. Your heart began racing. It felt as though it was beating out of your chest. When you climbed into the driver's seat, your hands were trembling as you pushed the button to turn on the ignition. You shook your hand in hopes of calming yourself down. The muscles in your throat were tensing up, nearly unable to breathe, gasping for some kind of oxygen. You were looking around in your car for something to release the tension clenching in your throat. You finally rolled the windows down, relying on fresh air to help somehow, which it did for a brief moment.

A phone call rang throughout your speakers, with the screen reading, Jimin (Incoming Call). It rang for a few seconds before you pressed the green accept button.

"Hello...?" you answered quietly.

A sweet angelic voice echoed on the other line, "Helloooo sweetie. Are you ready for today?" Although you couldn't see him, you could already imagine a smug smile plastered on his face.

"Um, yeah I guess so? As ready as I can be," you replied hesitantly.

"Taehyung and I will be there if you need anything." It gave you some sense of relief, that the two of them would be close by if anything happened. Not that anything could happen, right? Jimin called your name a few times but you spaced out overthinking tonight. "Are you still there, love?"

"Oh..yep, I'm here. I'm sorry. My mind has been all over the place these past few days," you said, letting out a nervous chuckle. Thankfully you hadn't started driving yet, otherwise who'd know if you would have made it to your appointment.

"Well, when you get here, pull up to the gate and park your car, and come up to the house. I'll meet you when you're inside. Mmkay?"

"Mm," you answered curtly, not wanting him to hear the nervousness in your voice.

"You're gonna do great. See you soon, love." Jimin reassured you before hanging up.

At last, you pulled up to the gate, your index finger shaking anxiously as you reached out to press the button on the keypad. This time, no one answered, the gate automatically opened.

Walking up to the door, you raised your hand up to the door knocker but found it opening before you could even grasp it. You weren't surprised to have Jimin eagerly awaiting your arrival. The angelic immortal greeted you with a cheerful smile again as if everything about this 'job' was completely normal. Your expression conveyed the complete opposite, eyes avoiding his gaze, biting your bottom lip so often it could start to bleed itself.

Jimin held out his arm, inviting you to take it. You timidly wrapped your hand around his extended arm. He had a small hop in his step as the two of you walked through the hallways, almost excited about your first time. "You look so sweet today, love. Absolutely perfect for your first time." He commented.

You weren't sure how one would dress for an occasion such as this, so you opted for a cropped black tank top, a black skirt covered with little daisies, black Doc Martens and an oversized white sweater. The summers in Seoul were sweltering but the nights were cool, so you figured this outfit would work.

He brought you to what looked like the basement of JK's place. It was fairly spacious and well decorated, just like the rest of the house, and not at all what you imagined a basement would be: dark, damp, and creepy. It was luxurious and modern, something you'd find in a home design magazine. You noticed a petite older woman sitting behind a desk with brown horn-rimmed spectacles sitting on the bridge of her nose, she glanced up from the book she had in her hand, smiling gently at the two of you.

"Meet Mrs. Kim. She'll help get you checked in and let you know which room to proceed to for your first appointment," Jimin stated cheerfully.

"Hi, sweetheart. You'll be in room seven where you'll meet your first client." A sweet smile left her lips before taking a sip from the coffee mug sitting in front of her. You assumed it was coffee but when she pulled away, her lips were painted crimson red. She softly apologized, wiping herself with a small hankie. She cleared her throat before speaking, "A reminder that you get to choose where you want them to take blood from. If they give you any trouble, ring this little buzzer and we'll come in."

Right...a buzzer...to call for help in case they can't stop draining your blood. This is normal. Absolutely normal. Well, it would be your new norm.

You gave her a thin smile and nod before taking the buzzer and turning around to examine the doors that were closed, curious as to how often these people donated blood. How grand was this blood bank scheme? You supposed if you only donated twice a month, they must have plenty of people on rotation. Yes, your mind was completely overthinking their whole operation at this point. Just to get your mind off of the inevitable.

"Your client is already in the room. You can go in when you're ready. I do suggest not making them wait too long though, some do get antsy," he said with a smirk. "But again, you have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Kim and I will be sitting right here waiting for you."

You took a deep breath before lightly knocking on the door, peeking your head in, and seeing a figure already sitting on the black leather loveseat. There was an uneasiness as you took a step forward into the room, ultimately walking into your own demise. Every single thought flooded your mind, telling you it would be better to leave now and never look back, better to lose your memories and get a grimy job that paid next to nothing than continue walking toward this vampire.

As you approached the figure, he slightly turned towards you, giving you a gentle smile. He wasn't what you expected a vampire to look like. His hair was styled in a slicked-back manner, with a small fringe falling softly on his forehead. His eyes were a piercing hazel color, his gaze could probably end you if you let it. Lips were plush and pillowy, but you supposed a vampire couldn't have everything, because his ears were a little too big for his frame, which made you chuckle inside. Were all vampires this beautiful?

He stood up to greet you, completely towering over you. He had to be at least six feet tall. "Hi, I'm Lucas," he said in a low husky tone, before leaning down and taking your hand, pressing a kiss on the back of it. You were right, his lips were plush and pillowy.

You faked a smile, trying not to make it seem obvious how nervous you were to be in this predicament. He let go of your hand and sat back down on the leather loveseat, patting a spot, requesting you to sit down next to him.

"Don't worry, I won't bite," he said teasingly, knowing well what he was about to do to you.

You tried to spew out a response but a noise unbeknownst to man came out instead. How could he joke at a time like this? You reluctantly sat down next to him. His hand softly slid onto your thigh, slightly squeezing it. This felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. "You're beautiful," he stated firmly.

"Um, thank you," you uttered softly.

He eyed you slowly from head to toe, taking in every detail. From the softness of your hair to every freckle marking your delicate skin, to the contours of your body. A hunger in him, impatiently waiting to have the first taste of you. He lightly shifted your hair out of the way, to get a better look at what he could potentially have. "So, what do you prefer? I obviously prefer this...," his finger delicately stroking up and down the side of your neck. "But it's your choice."

"Can we...just...um....start with my wrist?" you asked carefully, not wanting to provoke him in any way.

"Sure baby, whatever you want." He cocked his head, giving you a smug smile.

You pushed up the sleeve of your white sweater, revealing your wrist. You looked down, facing away as you stretched your left arm out to him. He took it willingly, his mouth beginning to salivate, feeling how fast your pulse was racing against the pad of his thumb. He was taking a few seconds before making a move. You thought something was wrong. You glanced at him and that's when his face began to shift and contort, similar to how Jimin's face looked when you saw him transition for the first time. His eyes were bloodshot, pupils blown out, veins breaking through his once refined skin, and there it was, the two fangs you were desperately afraid of.

He delicately pressed his pillowy lips on your wrist. "Beautiful," he stated as his bottom lip continued to linger on your soft skin.

And that's when his fangs sunk into your warm flesh. The scent from your floral citrus perfume filled his nose and he groaned, so intoxicated by you. The crunch from his bite echoed Jimin's. You winced and quietly whimpered, trying to clutch onto your wrist, holding it in place as he started to drain your blood. The initial bite was excruciating, something you've never felt before. You squirm underneath his grasp, struggling to endure the pain, wanting him to let go.

"Oh god." He stopped for a moment. "You taste so fucking sweet. I've never had anyone as sweet as you. How is this possible?" he commented before continuing to seep into the two bite marks he already made. You hissed softly. It stung more than the first time.

What seemed like hours of him draining the blood from your system, was only mere minutes. As one of his hands was busy holding on and sucking your wrist, his other one was wrapped around your waist, bringing you in closer to him. You didn't resist. You couldn't if you wanted to get paid.

You laid your head onto the loveseat and your eyes rolled back, waiting, hoping this would be over soon. When you opened your eyes again, staring at the ceiling, the room appeared hazy and blurred. You swore you could feel every ounce of your blood being drained from your veins. Would you even have any left? Is this why you could only donate twice a month, so that you could recover from the pain?

He let go of your wrist, but not letting any blood go to waste. He licked every stream running down your arm. His eyes were now lusting after the vein that was so beautifully intact on the side of your neck. It was throbbing, bulging, luring him to have a little taste. "I need more." He groaned, bringing you even closer to him.

Before you knew it, he bit into the one thing he really wanted from the start. Your body was inanimate, lifeless at this point, then you remembered the buzzer Mrs. Kim had given to you. It took every ounce of energy to search for the little red buzzer. Your injured wrist seeking the very thing that could save your life right now. Finally, your fingers found the device and pressed on it rapidly.

The door flew open. Jimin swiftly pulled Lucas off of you and pinned him to the wall. "Yah-third strike and you're out, asshole."

"I was having a little bit of fun, that's all," he replied smugly.

Jimin glanced over at you, barely conscious, leaning against the loveseat, your crisp white sweater, hanging off your shoulder, splattered with blood. "You're done. I'll put a stake in you myself if you come back," he threatened before throwing Lucas back against the wall, making a small dent.

He scoffed at Jimin and dusted himself off before grabbing his suit jacket that was next to you. "She's a sweet one. Don't let her go," he emphasized before leaving the room.

Jimin rushed over. He held you up into a sitting position. Your eyes were heavy. It was a struggle to keep them open. You peered through your lashes to see the charming immortal, only seeing his mouth move but no audible sounds were heard.

He took a bite of his own wrist. "Here, you need this if you want to live." He held it up to your mouth, encouraging you to drink.

You remembered him stating that vampire blood had healing properties. You didn't have anything to lose at this point. You pressed your lips against the two holes punctured on his wrist, sucking and grimacing at the sweet and salty taste.

"Just a little more, love."

You couldn't stand the taste anymore. You let go of his wrist, gasping for air, scrambling to find something to wipe your mouth. A box of Kleenex sat on an end table, you reached for a few tissues, frantically wiping your mouth, making sure every drop of his blood had been wiped clean from your lips.

He chuckled. "You good?"

"How...how...no, I'm not good. Look at me. My wrist and neck were mangled by that monster." You exclaimed, breathing heavily, trying to catch your breath.

"It looks fine to me," he noted, pointing at the spots you mentioned.

You examined your wrist and it was perfectly normal. You ran over to the mirror, inspecting your neck, again, normal.

"Come on, let's get you changed yeah? You should stay here tonight so we can keep an eye on you."

The events of tonight kept you wide-awake. You were grateful for Jimin looking after you, but it honestly shook you to the core. Ji-na heard about the incident and hadn't left your side the whole night. It was surprising even for her not to be stuck to Taehyung.

You looked over at Ji-na who was sound asleep next to you. How could she sleep so peacefully after everything that happened tonight? Has she become numb to everything this job entailed?

You couldn't stay in bed any longer, so you pulled the silky black comforter off of you, now leaving your legs shivering. Taehyung let you borrow an oversized white t-shirt but the sweats he lent were far too big, resulting in just letting the shirt hang loose on your body, down to your mid thighs.

The bedroom door quietly creaked when you pulled it open, just enough for you to slip through. You looked back to make sure you didn't wake Ji-na. Even at night, JK's place seemed eerie and somewhat sinister, given the nature of who they were. The hallway was dimly lit by the lights dispersed here and there. You continued walking, not sure where you were going or what you were looking for. You just needed a distraction.

And of course you stumbled upon the kitchen. You weren't sure what you'd find when you opened it, but you were oddly surprised to see it stocked with the essentials: milk, eggs, even bacon. None of those things sounded satisfying at this moment, so you opted to open the freezer, and there you found an endless supply of cookies and cream ice cream. Your eyes widened in delight as you grabbed one.

"I hope you know you'll have to replace that," a voice chimed in from behind.

You immediately jumped back, gripping onto the pint of ice cream for dear life, completely frightened by the voice. You shut your eyes and let out the breath you didn't know you were holding in. "Oh my god, you scared me."

"Sorry..." the man mumbled.

The light from the freezer door faintly revealed the person sitting behind the counter. He was dressed in a dark velvety robe, which was barely closed, displaying a toned and firm chest, his hair a bit damp from a shower (you guessed), but now getting fluffy as it was drying off. He continued munching on what looked like a bowl of cereal.

"You gonna close that...or let all the ice cream melt?" he asked, seemingly annoyed. His mouth was still crunching on his cereal as he glared at you, then back at the freezer door still opened.

You've only seen him once but you knew it was JK. You cleared your throat and closed the freezer door shut. He watched you struggle to find a spoon, rummaging through several drawers but not finding what you needed. He snickered while eating his cereal, finding you rather cute.

"You gonna help me...or just watch me struggle?"

"I quite like watching you struggle," he replied.

Finally, you opened a drawer and found the neatly displayed silver utensils. Third drawer from the left, you made a mental note for next time. That's if there would be a next time.

The two of you are next to each other with a chair in between. The silence was overwhelming and awkward. You ate your ice cream while he finished his cereal. He slurped the remaining milk in the bowl before heading to the sink, the bowl and spoon clinking and clanking as he washed it. Should you say something to him? You weren't sure exactly what to talk to him about.

Then he turned around, his robe unraveled just enough to show off his toned chest and taut abs, the gray sweats were barely hanging on, subtly revealing his v line. You were trying your best not to gawk at the celestial immortal being standing practically naked in front of you. So, you focused all of your attention to the melting ice cream on the counter, gradually stabbing your spoon into it.

He examined you from head to toe, realizing you were only in a shirt. He scratched the back of his neck and cleared his throat. It appeared as though he was heading out of the kitchen, but he stopped himself. He lightly pounded his fist on the counter out of nervousness, "I heard about tonight. You okay?"

"I'm a little shaken up but I'll be fine," you confessed, avoiding his gaze in case you were caught ogling him.

"Mmkay...night then," he muttered as he quickly ran off into the night.

"O...Kay," you mumbled. "Yeah...I'll be fine. I didn't die, so that's a plus. Thanks for worrying about me." You continued to talk to yourself, knowing he was long gone by now.

You couldn't eat any more, so you finally stowed the pint of ice cream back in the freezer and washed your spoon. On your way back to the room, you stopped by the first place where you met JK. The door was closed but the light was on for a moment before completely going dark.

When you peeked into your room, Ji-na was still fast asleep. You crawled right next to her and pulled the covers over you. While laying on the fluffy silk pillow, your thoughts wandered back to the non-existent interaction with JK. Yes, it was a bit awkward and abrupt, and you couldn't put your finger on it, but he was intriguing. This whole vampire thing...you couldn't help but speculate on how he became a vampire. Maybe he was desperately in love with a woman who was a vampire and he wanted to be with her forever. Or it could have been an accident, maybe he never wanted to be a vampire in the first place. Regardless, you'd probably never find out the answer since he seemed standoffish tonight.

After what seemed like hours of endless thoughts running through your mind, somehow you finally fell asleep. The rays from the sunrise began peeking through the blinds, making you grimace and groan from it's luminance. It appeared so bright. You thought vampires were only up at night, so why wasn't this whole place covered up?

Your eyes fluttered open, body aching for some strange reason when you stretched your arms and legs. Then you sat up, hair a mess, shirt shifted in all kinds of directions, surveying the room, seeing if Ji-na was still next to you. It was cold and empty. Where could she possibly be this early? The clothes you had on the night before were neatly pressed and folded on a dresser, you proceeded to put them on and went on a search for Ji-na.

While roaming through JK's place again...you wondered what they did all day if they couldn't go out. Did they have hobbies? Did they sit in their room all day waiting for the sun to go down? Well, you figured JK liked to paint, from the looks of the decorated hallway, but what about Taehyung and Jimin?

You ended up at the same spot you were in last night, the kitchen. You found Jimin, Taehyung and Ji-na laughing and eating breakfast. When Ji-na noticed you, she sprinted with arms wide open, engulfing you in a warm embrace.

"Come eat. Jimin made breakfast," she said with a cheerful smile, pulling out a chair for you next to her at the dining table.

"Kay..." you mumbled, quietly sitting down, unsure of what to say.

Jimin opened a cabinet to grab a plate. He started piling eggs, bacon, french toast, and fresh fruit on your plate. "Coffee? Tea? Juice?" He asked brightly with a smile.

"Coffee sounds great. Thank you."

He brought everything and set it down in front of you. He took a seat next to Taehyung. Everyone was waiting, watching you as you took a bite of your food. You slowly munched on the bacon. Were they waiting for something? A reaction maybe?

"Oh, mm, it's delicious...thanks Jimin."

An angelic grin swept across his face, proud of himself for making your belly happy. "There's plenty more love, so keep eating. You need all the energy you can get."

"Um...can I ask you guys something?"

"Go for it," Taehyung answered with his mouth full of strawberries.

"I thought vampires only drink blood. Why are you eating real food?" You asked genuinely, curious to know the reason behind it.

Jimin and Taehyung cackled, apparently amused by your innocent question. "My love, you're so cute. I just want to pinch your cheeks!" Jimin said in a baby voice.

"We eat real food to help with the cravings, unless...you're offering yourself up?" Taehyung's eyebrows quirked up. Jimin elbowed Taehyung in his side and he hissed back at his best friend.

"Yah--" Ji-na yelled while throwing her fork at Taehyung. "She just went through something traumatic. It's too early to make jokes."

"Sorry darlin'...." Taehyung muttered, lowering his head, and continuing to eat his food.

Ji-na stood up from her seat and walked over to Taehyung and grabbed him by the ear. He yelled out 'ow' over and over again. She continued to twist it, making him get up from the chair. She was scolding him as she dragged him out of the kitchen. You could hear them bickering throughout the hallway and then ultimately heard a door slam.

"It's really okay. I'm fine."

Jimin chuckled lightly, "That was just an excuse to go fuck."

You mouthed an 'oh', before sipping on the coffee Jimin poured for you.

"I'm glad to hear you're okay. I'm sorry that your first experience wasn't the best. It's rare that we come across situations like this." He explained.

You nodded. A part of you was still trying to make sense of the whole thing.

"If you don't want to do this anymore, I completely understand. I'll give you a week to decide. If you want to continue, great, if not, then you know what'll happen." He stated once again that he'd wipe your memories, so you'd have no recollection they existed.

Would you want to continue this? Was it worth it?

✨ previous chapter ~ the mystery job

✨ next chapter ~ the decision

[sarahisslytherin]

groupie // s.b.

Summary: When your band is about to play your first real show, you can count on Sirius to be your number one fan. Contains: Pretty much pure self indulgent fluff with like two suggestive jokes. 

You could feel the bass thumping through your whole body, a feeling you doubted you’d ever really get used to. You’re still not quite sure how you managed to book your band a gig at one of the best bars in town, but you try to simply take the win and thwart off any last minute jitters. You stand behind the curtain along with your bandmates, compulsively tuning a guitar you’d tuned just minutes ago. Your heart is racing with the fear of potential embarrassment, or is it the thrill of your very first time playing for a crowd that’s actually here to see you? Not to watch you play someone else’s music, but your own.  

“Dude, you can’t be here. We’re about to start.” you hear someone mutter as two arms snake around your waist and pull you close.

“Oh my God, I’m your biggest fan! Pretty please, can I have an autograph?” Sirius whispers for only you to hear as he presses a chaste kiss to your temple. Your smirk quickly grows into a face splitting grin as you’re spun around to face your boyfriend. Your bandmates are clearly in distress and anxious for him to leave so you can start your set. 

“No time for autographs, mister.  Sorry to disappoint.”

“This must be why they say ‘never meet your heroes’.” he pouts, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. You’re too caught up in the familiarity of your banter to recall how foreign and nerve wracking the whole situation was before he’d snuck backstage. That’s until your bandmates urge you to get rid of him.

“Tell your pesky friends I’ll be out of their hair as soon as I get a kiss from the lead singer.” he says, a shit eating grin plastered onto his annoyingly perfect face. 

“Alright, alright.” you laugh but comply, pulling him in for a brief peck.

“No, no. A proper ki- oi!” he’s interrupted by the guitarist and bassist quite literally dragging him off the stage. “Good luck, darling!” 

You laugh to yourself as you take your place at the center of the stage, glitter smeared across your cheeks and clad in Sirius’s leather jacket (he assured you it would give you luck but you’re pretty sure he just gets a kick out of seeing you in his clothes). You glance over to your bandmates. “Ready?” 

“Ready.”

                                                       ***

The curtains close before you and darkness overtakes the stage. You look over to the band excitedly. You’ve had your share of bad shows, whether it was a dead crowd, an awkward location or technical difficulties. But not tonight. Tonight was perfect. You hit all the right notes, the crowd loved the guitar solos and bass lines, and the drums only amplified it all. But it was the black head of hair amongst the small sea screaming your own lyrics back at you that had made it all infinitely better. It felt as if with every step you took, every chord you strummed his whoops and hollers only grew in intensity.

After the crowd and the band have settled you drop your guitar a bit more carelessly than you should’ve as you run off the stage and towards Sirius’s open arms.

“You were incredible!” he shouts as if there’s still music blaring through the room, hoisting you up as he does it. “My girlfriend’s a fuckin’ rockstar!” You earn a few looks from random people at the outburst, but you’re too over the moon to care.

“I told you the jacket was good luck.” he smirks, pride evident in his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sure it was the jacket, babe.” 

“Well, perhaps you had something to do with it as well.” he quips, pulling you in for a deep kiss that you reluctantly end. 

“You really think I’m a rockstar?” you ask, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Big time.” he confirms as he wraps his arms around you. “And you know what every rockstar needs, don’t you, love?” You shake your head, pretty sure he’s about to say something incredibly flirty.

“Well, you’ll need a groupie, of course.” 

You loll your head back in a half assed attempt to hide your blush.

“Someone who’ll follow you to the ends of the earth and wouldn’t mind getting in your pants if need be.” he continued with a chuckle, gently pushing a few stray hairs away from your face.

“Why, wherever will I find one on such short notice?” you ask in faux concern as you wrap your arms around the back of Sirius’s neck. You pretend to scan the room for possible contenders.

“Look no further, my dear. I volunteer as tribute.” he announces with a raise of his hand, earning one of those hearty laughs of yours he loves so much. He extends his arms theatrically. “Go on, have your way with me.”

“No, I couldn’t possibly burden you like th-”

“Oh, no, no. I insist.” he reiterates with a smug grin, whisking you into another heated kiss. He pulls away to whisper cheekily into your ear. “Even if I didn’t get that blasted autograph.” 

[omnitf]

Credit for this image goes to @dissolving-time. Story is mature for some language. This is another story from the Coach Stone universe. I hope you all enjoy it. :D If you’d like to see more of these stories, please join my Patreon.

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

Stone Cold

“Coach said you have to get your shot, bro.”

I gazed at the meathead that had once been my fellow prisoner. He’d already donned the dog tags that were locked in his footlocker. Muscle rippled over his body as he gazed at me holding one of the biggest rifles I have ever seen in my life.

“Chapman, do you know what that is?” I asked as I eyed the gun warily. The caliber alone would be enough to splatter my brains all over the wall.

“The name’s Champ, bro.” He said it so casually, so matter-of-factly. Had they really brainwashed him so thoroughly?

“Your name is Lance Chapman, from Enfield, North Carolina. You specialize in computer programming, like me. We were brought here against our wills, remember?”

“Nah, bro.” “Champ” let out a deep vapid chuckle. His camouflage draped over his legs, but I could see the hints of growing muscle bunching, just waiting for a good pump to press them tightly against the confines of the cloth. “Coach wants my bod first, my brains second. Huhuh.” He grinned at me, revealing perfectly white and straightened teeth.

I’d hoped to reason with him, but it was clear he was beyond that. I brandished my own pair of dog tags. Like I said, computers were my thing, both programming and the hardware. It took me a while, but I managed to get my lockbox to open, too. And without reducing myself to a wannabe army poster boy. “I have my tags, Champ. You can’t keep me here. You know once I get my tags, I’m supposed to leave. I’m supposed to report to Coach, remember?”

“But you’re not gonna, are you, bro?” he asked seriously as his brow furrowed. “You just wanna get out.”

“I have to get out to see Coach, now don’t I?” The exit was right there in bold black lettering. The lock had already disengaged on cue when I seized my tags. I just needed to get past him. If I could distract him somehow or incapacitate him, I could run.

Chapman spread his legs in a broader stance as he planted himself firmly in front of the door. “You’re not ready to see Coach yet, little bro. And Coach hasn’t called you.”

“I am ready.”

“Prove it.”

I knew a few basics from martial arts training in my youth. I’d been fortunate enough to keep up the practice in my free hours. The meathead in front of me may have had a weapon, but we were in tight quarters. It would be difficult to get that barrel pointing at me if I could stay close. And while he may have had raw strength, I had experience. I also still had my wits about me. I sighed and let my shoulders droop as I approached him. “Look, Champ, just ... let me go, okay? You and I both know this is wrong. It’s against the law to kidnap someone.”

“No can do, little bro. Coach says we need more training. Coach says we have a project to help with. Coach says muscle CHAMPs like me need to train and obey. I listen to Coach. I obey. This Champ o—”

The mantra was what I was waiting for. It doesn’t matter how big you get if you haven’t got the trained reflexes to deal with a sudden change yet. And Chapman’s mind had been either short circuited or rewired to reinforce his thuggery. I’d heard it enough times through the door. It wasn’t soundproofed. I think that was deliberate on the part of this “Coach” to give us a taste of what’s in store. Demoralizing a captive is a large part of ensuring that he or she remains compliant, after all. And I’d heard enough, “This meathead obeys,” to know this was a fulltime operation made heavy on the brainwashing. It had to be to change someone so drastically. This wasn’t just a sign of subtle change. This was downright breaking them and building them back up again into the equivalent of obedient machines.

In this case, it played in my favor, and I hate to think of it this way, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was grateful for it. The mantra made him vulnerable. I laid a hand gently on his shoulder, being sure to get close enough that he couldn’t put the barrel against me. His eyes were glassy and unseeing as he uttered the mantra that he and everyone else like him had been conditioned to speak.

Then I took him down. It was simple to sweep his feet out from under him, and the move flowed like water. Bruce Li would be proud. I followed up with a heavy blow to the side of his head with my boot. Part of our imprisonment had included removing our personal affects, so I had no idea where my street clothes were. I didn’t give the blow enough force for any serious damage, but it would be enough to daze him, maybe even knock him out if I was lucky.

I threw the door open while he groaned on the floor. I managed all of maybe two steps before my arms was seized and I was slammed against the wall. I swear, my bones vibrated from the impact. I saw a helmet with a reflective visor and the broadest chest I had ever seen in my life. This man was huge. And unfortunately for me, he was also very skilled. My arm was yanked behind my back faster than I had time to process. He pulled, and I felt my socket strain to send stabs of pain through my arm and neck. Another faceless mook strode forward. But unlike Chapman, this one was decked in full body armor.

“Well done, recruit. You’ve passed Coach’s test. You will serve in Coach Stone’s cyber unit and in Research and Development. You will obey.”

“Like hell, I will,” I swore. That rewarded me with another painful jerk of my arm while a targeted blow forced me to my knees.

“Meathead recruit will comply.” The man withdrew a syringe from a side pocket and tapped the chamber to dislodge any air bubbles, then pulled off the protective cap with a deliberate casual air of the well-practiced. The substance was green, and the soldier had no qualms over pulling my sleeve up. I squirmed, but a yank of my other arm followed by a crushing iron grip on my free arm left me tense as he stabbed the needle into my arm and depressed the syringe. He removed the needle casually and replaced the cap, then inserted the syringe into another pouch.

The two visored faces stared at one another for the briefest of moments in a silent exchange. Then they nodded as the one who injected me rose, turned and entered the room where I had been held prisoner. A low groan emanated from the space, followed by a series of loud cracks.

“Rise, meathead. Follow.”

The voice that emanated in reply was deeper than I remembered. “This meathead obeys...” An even greater shock greeted me when the lumbering brute emerged. Chapman’s muscle mass had increased dramatically, and the man’s skull had completely reformed. Sharp, angular, square features blunted his face now, and his eyes were a vivid shade of green. The oversized gun didn’t look so ridiculous for him anymore.

“What the hell...?” I murmured.

“Meathead Champ will listen to orders. Meathead Champ will obey. Meathead Champ will fire on his roommate on command. Meathead Champ will prepare to fire now.”

“What?” I balked. I wanted to squirm again, but once more, my captor brought me to heel. I tried to shift out of his grip, but the hold was too strong. Even if I went limp, he’d still be able to haul me back up again. That didn’t stop me from trying, however.

I heard a whine not unlike the sound you hear in a sci-fi movie when a blaster is being charged or a bomb is being primed. The barrel was soon directed at my face. My heart hammered as Chapman uttered his mindless acknowledgement.

“Meathead Champ obeys. This meathead is ready to fire.”

“Fire.”

There was light, a strange tingling that bordered on the pleasant, and then blackness. I came to in an empty barracks. When I rose, everything felt ... heavy, awkward. The sight of the muscles bulging against the fabric of my shirt was more than enough to unsettle me as my throat clenched and my mouth went dry. I wanted to scream, but at the same time I knew better. I journeyed over my torso, my arms, everything. All of it felt in order, albeit significantly enhanced. It was my face I dreaded the most. And true to my fears, I could feel each sharply defined contour from my own transformation that was doubtless facilitated by the rifle. As a test, I ran through pi to see just how far in the infinite decimal sequence I could get. Then I searched through the other parts of my brain. I felt no compulsion, no absentmindedness, no blank emptiness or cotton or wool. I was clear, surprisingly so, given how quickly my mind seemed to jump from place to place.

“Comfortable?”

The question came out of nowhere, and I balked and bawled as my body sent me crashing into another bunk with the increased force of my new mass.

“Well, clearly not anymore,” the voice replied urbanely. I rounded on the figure only to see a man standing at least a head taller than I. His manner was relaxed and composed. His blond hair flickered like silver in the light. And though he was completely relaxed, his body oozed that smug command and intimidation that subconsciously demanded respect from those around him. “Please, take a moment to acclimate yourself. I find a blow to the shins is never pleasant.”

I decided to stick with sitting, rather than rick another launch with a body I had absolutely no experience with. “Who ... are you?” I winced at the depth of my voice. Logic only dictated it would have changed with the rest of my physique, but I had hoped it wouldn’t.

“A scientist of sorts. Biochemistry is my specialty, though I’ve branched out into many other fields.” He chuckled. “Why don’t you just stay there and we’ll have a nice chat between the two of us?” He lowered his broad frame onto the bed I had just launched myself from and gazed at me with vivid blue eyes. “My name is Stone. And you doubtless have many questions and expletives you want to voice, most likely not in that order.”

I felt like a broken record as curse after curse and swear after swear flowed out of me in an invective tirade. Denunciations and questions boomed from me like the retort of a cannon, emphasized by a number of curses and swears until that was all I heard winding down ... and down ... and down....

“Are you finished?”

A plaintive, almost defeated, “Fuck,” hissed from me as I rested my head in two massive hands.

“Glad you could get that out of your system. Now, do you have any real questions you wanted to ask me?”

“Why?” I finally managed to ask.

“You’re a programmer. You should understand. If a program doesn’t work the way it’s intended, you go into the code, find the bug, and fix it. Sometimes it’s messy work, but the end result is worth it. I’m doing that on a global scale, or at least I will in time. Getting rid of bigotry, erasing the divide between the strong and the weak to produce a better world for everyone.”

“You broke Chapman.”

“Champ is happy where he is. He chose it. He wanted it. You two had virtually the same IQ scores and talents, at least when it came to computer engineering and programming. Unlike you, though, Champ was fighting conditions that would make it so that he could never enjoy the same level of fitness and activity that you do. Such a lack eventually results in fantasies, a longing to experience what one never has had. Chapman threw it all away because he reveled in the chance to grow and swell. And, I admit, I fed that desire while he tried to hack the mainframe. I let him see where he would ultimately end up. And I gave him a simple choice. He accepted my offer to obey. He lied to you, pretended to fail, and complied with everything I told him whenever he signed in. He is living his fantasy now, and is deliriously happy to be receiving training as a part of my Meatheads.

Rage curled my lip, but I couldn’t do a thing. I wanted to lunge at the man, strangle him, but my body wouldn’t comply. All I could do was sit and watch.

“You may have noticed by now, but my meatheads can’t do anything against me. I’m their authority figure, their alpha. Or as they like to call me, Coach. You can’t attack me because I told you to stay there. And though you may want to deny it, I know that deep down, you’re enjoying the sensation of your new body just as much as Champ is.”

“How?”

“My formula.” He shrugged his massive shoulders. “It’s not perfect yet, but the iterations I’ve produced from my original notes have been very useful in extending my control. I don’t want to be a dictator, but I’m not about to let the world stay as it is either. Shadow politics, assassinations, pointless bombings and wars, genocides, suicides. This world is a mess. I have the tools to fix that mess once and for all. And I intend to do just that. To sum it up for you, I’m my original test subject. And the formula worked wonders for me as a result, but it also rendered me ... incapacitated for a time. As a result, much of my research was lost, and I’ve had to rebuild using different iterations of my creation until I can find that special mix. On the plus side, as derivatives of my original formula, it seems that anyone exposed automatically becomes subservient to me. It makes things much simpler when dealing with intruders and espionage. It also helps with recruiting.”

“Then why didn’t you just ask me?”

“Because I wanted you to sample the goods. That, and because there are still those who can resist the full effects of my injections and other sources of integration for a certain period of time. As I said, the formula still needs work. But I like to use the less effective iterations for special cases like you. Your specialty in coding and computer engineering is something I need right now. And I want you to keep your mind focused on the task at hand, rather than on weights and muscle. That’s why I’m assigning you to our MEAT department.”

“And if I refuse?”

“I think we both know you can’t.” Stone smirked. “For the record, MEAT stands for Muscle Enhancement and Accelerated Transformation. You’ll be helping us to design and improve a number of methods and technologies to help smooth subject transitions into becoming Meatheads. And more importantly, on how to preserve their skills and knowledge while still incorporating them into the collective. In other words, research and development. Your specialty, if I recall correctly.”

“I don’t want to.”

Stone chuckled. “On the contrary. I think you do.”

“I do—” My tongue stuck. My jaw locked. I tried again. “I do—” Again, I had the same problem. Again, I couldn’t finish. “I ... do....”

Stone’s smirk widened into a sneer. “Glad we got that settled. Oh, and for the safer ones, I want you to experiment on yourself. I’m intrigued to see just what a smart obedient Meathead will look and act like.

I groaned another curse, which only further emphasized my captor’s glee. “Spoken like a true Meathead.”

“Whatever....”

“That’s right. Whatever I say, Meathead.” The cocky arrogance was gone, leaving behind a chilling glare that could cut through diamond. “And you will address me with respect as either Coach Stone, Coach, or Sir. Do I make myself clear?”

I clenched my mouth shut.

“Answer me,” Stone demanded.

“Yes, ... Sir.”

“Good.” His eyes flashed as he rose from his position. “Now follow me. I’ll guide you to your lab. You have a lot of work ahead of you, don’t you, Meathead?”

I couldn’t stop myself as I rose to follow him. “Yes, Sir, Coach.”

“That’s right.” He chuckled. “On second thought, let’s get you dressed first. Then we can visit the lab.”

“Whatever you say, Coach.”

“Good boy,” he purred. I shuddered in revulsion, both at his cold dominance and ... at the jolt of pleasure that surged with that acknowledgement. If that was how it felt now, how would I feel after a few months or years of working under him? Would I be able to resist?

...

Would I even want to?

I shuddered again. Hopefully, I would be able to find a solution before Coach made me a permanent team member. Or worse yet, before I did.

[jasontoddiefor]

If you're still writing from the list, how about 45 (pretending to hate each other au) with obikin?

Sent me a ship and a number!

45. pretending to hate each other au + obikin

Set in a rather flexible AU @shatouto and I have been brainstorming!!! I’ve been calling it Sith’ari / Daisha AU.

The armies were already retreating, picking up their dead for ritual or burial. The battle had been as pointless as it could be with no strategic advancement for either army.

Well, except for one.

“Can you move?”

Anakin looked back up at him, his leg still pinned under the debris and blood running down his temple, blue eyes burning like the flames around him. “Do I look like I can move? Help me up.”

Exhausted and drained as Anakin was, it would be easy to put him under a sleep suggestion, break through his walls and mindtrick him into becoming a hollow puppet at the feet of his throne. It would certainly break the spirit of the Jedi easier than ripping one planet after another from their grasp, more satisfying too. Anakin was meant to be at Obi-Wan’s side, the Force had tied them together for a reason.

But that hollow shell wouldn’t be Anakin at all and Obi-Wan had long since stopped aiming for Anakin’s head when they met on the battlefield. They never truly sought the other out when all around them people screamed, bleed, and died, but they were still inexplicitly drawn to each other, found themselves stumbling somewhere they couldn’t be seen or caught.

“Wonoksh su nun, nuya Sith’ari,” Anakin said, his pronunciation too kind on the harsh words. Sith wasn’t meant to be spoken with gentleness, with hope and warmth in your eyes.

“You don’t even know what you’re asking,” Obi-Wan said, shaking his head. He was fairly sure the Jedi didn’t have a single word in their vocabulary that came even close to won, the act of breaking chains through the hollow hunger at the bottom of your stomach, urging you to conquer.

Maybe it was simply that the Jedi never felt such compulsions.

Then again, Obi-Wan had been taught to read the Jedi’s careful script by Darth Tyrannus’s hands.

“Haj Dai, Daisha kat fehl,” Obi-Wan replied with the mockery of the Jedi’s formal bows and lifted the stone from Anakin’s legs. It was strange that Anakin wasn’t able to do so on his own, he was stronger than that.

“Great, thank you,” Anakin wheezed. “Now, there’s also, ah, this metal rod piercing my back—”

“My Lord!”

Obi-Wan and Anakin both quickly turned their heads in the direction of the voices. Seemed like Obi-Wan’s guards had found them quicker than anticipated. If they saw him just standing here, with Anakin incapacitated but not yet begging for his life, then the game would be over. Their song would cut off right in the middle, their dance simply end.

No.

“My Lord, I— Skywalker! You caught—”

Obi-Wan didn’t let the guard finish. He was just a little glad that it hadn’t been Ventress. She was the most useful of his guards, even if she worked as a spy for Tyrannus, and Obi-Wan would have missed her presence at his Council. She was one of the few who dared to speak up against the Generals that Sidious had settled him with.

Impassively, Obi-Wan stared at the corpse to his feet, then, sighing, he returned to look at Anakin whose previously so open expression had closed off again. Nothing like a dead body to remind you of what really stood between your dyad.

“Don’t stay here for too long, Anakin. Time is running out.”

For you, me, us, this impossible bond that never should have been woven.

Not waiting for a reply, Obi-Wan turned around and walked towards his retreating army, leaving Anakin behind to meet in a new tomorrow, another unnecessary battle for an Empire Obi-Wan had never seen the purpose of and a Republic that had done nothing for a little slave boy from Tatooine.

Translations:

Sith: You will free me, my Sith'Ari [= Prophecized Sith Overlord] Dai Bendu: As the Force Wills, my Daisha [= Chosen One]

[redqueen-hypothesis]

misunderstanding ➳ gavin (mlqc)

➳ PAIRING: reader x gavin (mlqc)

➳ WORD COUNT: 6332

➳ GENRE: humour, fluff

➳ SYNOPSIS: you just really want a kiss

➳ REMARKS: for @cheri-translates​‘ late birthday present! i apologise for the disappointing quality-

i. her

It’s late at night when you finish working on your last report, and Gavin insists on walking you home.

“–and so Victor was saying that I have to work doubly hard this month if I want to keep the partnerships with other companies.” You rant to Gavin on the way back to your apartment, joined hands swinging back and forth between the two of you. “I mean, he’s probably right! But he talks as if I haven’t been doing my best already! I wish I could wipe that annoying frown off his face.”

Your boyfriend shakes his head, a slight smile on his lips and his fingers giving yours a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve been working so hard these last few days, I’m sure your boss sees that too.” Gavin says honestly, and you make a face at the thought of Victor even remotely praising you for your work without a snark remark thrown in somewhere. “I’m sure you’ll do great, so don’t worry too much, alright?”

Gavin’s words are earnest and straight from the heart. You smile, feeling more positive than when you had left the company building; no matter how many times Gavin says he doesn’t know how to reassure people, he always come through for you with his honest words. You’re looking up at his side profile, about to thank him, when a night gale sweeps through the empty streets and you shiver. The weather has been cold recently, but you had forgotten your jacket today on way to work due to oversleeping in the morning.

All of a sudden, you feel a slight weight settling around your shoulders and look up in surprise to see Gavin putting his denim jacket on you, leaving him in nothing more than a plain white tee. “Ahh, Gavin! You don’t need to, I’m almost home anyway. What if you catch a cold?” You begin to pull off the jacket, but Gavin’s large hands still yours before you can return it to him.

“I’m used to the cold since I fly around so much.” Gavin tells you simply, adjusting the jacket so that it sits nicely on your shoulders, protecting the bare skin of your arms from the cool night air. “There, all done.”

You flush lightly, tugging the well worn material more tightly around your body. It still retains his delicious body heat and his unique scent is steeped in every thread and stitch of the fabric. Smiling secretly to yourself, you look at Gavin’s concerned face to thank him. “Then I’ll return it to you the second we reach my apartment, alright?”

Gavin coughs lightly, turning away. “I don’t mind if you keep it. It looks good on you.” His short brown locks do little to hide just how the tips of his ears are burning red. You blink down at yourself, realizing then just how big his jacket is on you and flush lightly. “Well, I can’t have you catching a cold too!”

You grab his hand with both of yours and raise it to your lips to blow warm air over it, deciding that you can at least keep one part of him warm if you’re going to steal his jacket. To your surprise, however, Gavin’s body temperature already seems higher than average. He could have a bright future as a personal body warmer if the evol agent thing doesn’t work out, you think to yourself as you lace your fingers with his.

A small laugh leaves Gavin’s lips and he brings your hands down instead, putting your joined hands inside the pocket of the denim jacket. “Is this better?”

You can feel heat dancing along your cheeks, and nod eagerly. “Y-yes!” Your hand has never felt so warm and secure. Gavin smiles at you, a small, tender curve of the lips, but it makes his entire face shine with a contented glow. “Let’s go, then.”

Just like every time Gavin walks you home, the distance between your workplace and your apartment feels far too short - you want to spend more time with him. Unfortunately, you spot the familiar numbers of your apartment block and let out a small sigh, fingers instinctively wrapping around his more tightly. You don’t want to let him go.

“What’s wrong? Your footsteps have slowed.” Gavin asks in concern, and you startle when you realise that he’s looking at you with a worried expression on his face. You hadn’t even realised that you’d been dragging your feet in an attempt to make this walk last longer. Just how much more in love can you fall for one man?

“I-I was just thinking about how much work I have left to do once I head back home.” You say quickly, as the two of you near the lobby of your apartment. Gavin sighs and raises a hand to stroke through your hair gently, fingers combing through the flyaway strands tenderly.

“I don’t like seeing you so stressed.” He says softly, sounding almost pained, and your heart warms in your chest. You take both of his hands in yours, holding them between you as you turn to face him.

Silly man. He’s the one who goes on dangerous missions all the time and comes back injured or exhausted, and here he is worrying about you instead. Gavin looks down at you, amber eyes slightly downcast and a slight furrow between his brows, as if the thought of you being tired hurts him more than any danger he could face.

“I’m a big girl, Gavin. I can take care of myself.” You reassure him softly. Gavin gazes at you for a few moments, before one hand comes up to trace the dark circles underneath your eyes so gently. “I know you can.” He says, sounding a hint resigned. “But not at the expense of your health or your rest, alright?”

His hand shifts to cup your cheek, and you lean into the warmth of his palm with a contented smile. “Okay.”

The two of you stand there for a moment longer, too reluctant to let the other go. It’s only when another gust of cold wind sweeps around you and you let out a small sneeze that Gavin finally takes a step back, running a thumb over your cheek. “I’ll pick you up for a date once you finish your project, alright? Don’t hesitate to call if you need me for something.”

You stare at him a second longer, his amber eyes filled with such tender affection and concern, before compulsion wins out and you’re stepping forward to wrap your arms around his torso. Gavin makes a surprised sound at your actions when your face collides with his chest, arms instinctively coming up to encircle you. “Something wrong?”

“Just wanted to a hug.” You mumble into the thin white fabric of his shirt, glancing up to look at him. Gavin’s expression softens at your muffled words, fingers stroking your cheek gently and his eyes tracing your face with so intently that your breath lodges itself in your chest.

Ever so slowly, his fingers slip down to brush your lips gently, his touch so light it’s barely a breath of wind whispering over your mouth. Lips suddenly dry at his sudden actions, your tongue darts out mindlessly to wet them and the tip flicks over Gavin’s fingers.

Your eyes dart up to meet Gavin’s in shock, heart pounding painfully in your chest. He still hasn’t moved his fingers from your lips, although you can see the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows, amber eyes darkening a shade as they fixate on your mouth, unable to look away.

You vaguely wonder if you’re still breathing. Is he finally going to-

Gavin leans forward slowly, face coming dangerously close to yours without so much as a warning. You can feel a few stray strands of his hair dancing across your face each time the wind blows, but you’re so fixated on his mouth that you barely bother with the ticklish sensation. His breath, hot with each slow exhale, brushes your lips like a teasing, indirect touch, and at that moment, you find that you really, really want him to kiss you.

Your eyes slip shut, lips tingling in anticipation. Please.

“You have a little bit of lipstick smudged here.” Gavin’s soft voice interrupts you, and your eyes fly open to see him wiping carefully at the corner of your mouth, before showing you a bit of pink staining his fingertips. You stare down at it for a moment, unsure whether you want to scream loudly in disappointment or if you still have some shreds of dignity left to preserve, but before you can do anything regrettable Gavin leans over and presses a quick, chaste kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll see you soon.” He murmurs softly, eyes bright with affection as he smiles down at you, and you almost feel dirty minded for wanting a kiss on the lips of all things. “It’s late and cold, you should get going.”

Unable to say anything in response, you swallow the words trapped on the tip of your tongue before you kiss him softly on the cheek and step back to wave. “See you soon, Gavin.”

You feel his eyes on you until you’ve stepped into the relative warmth and security of the lift lobby, barely remembering to give a wave to the security guard before you enter the lift.

The second the elevator doors slide closed, you put your face in your hands and scream.

ii. a male perspective

“So, how good is my brother in bed?”

Shaw’s unexpected question in the middle of your conversation sends your mouthful of matcha latte going down the wrong passage. You immediately clap both hands over your mouth, trying to prevent the drink from spewing over the entire tabletop. Coughing and spluttering weakly, you reach out for help and Shaw instantly drops a tissue into your hand, a lazy, self satisfied smirk dancing on his lips. As he lounges back on his chair, he looks ridiculously out of place in the quaint cafe with his graffiti-ed leather jacket and skateboard propped up on the chair next to him.

“You don’t just ask about these kind of things!” You whisper to Shaw fiercely, sure that your face must be as bright red as a tomato. You can feel heat burning at your cheeks. Did anyone hear? “Why would you even ask about something like that?”

Shaw’s snicker of laughter is bright, teasing, and so, so annoying. “It’d almost be nice to have some tea about my dear brother. Anyways, what’s embarrassing about it? I could give you a few tips if you want.” He pours a measure of his can of coke into the teacup in front of him, before adding an equal amount of Pepsi and clicking his tongue in satisfaction.

You make a face at the thought of just how much action you’ve gotten as you dab at the corners of your mouth with the paper napkin. “Well...” You hesitate, not quite sure how to put it. Shaw arches a single perfectly groomed eyebrow as he raises his teacup to his lips.

“You mean, you haven’t fucked?” The question falls so easily from his mouth that you almost do a double take, before you’re glaring at him in embarrassment and raising your purse to smack him on the arm. “How far have the two of you gone?”

“...it’d be easier to ask how far we haven’t gone.” Your hesitant mumble has Shaw blinking at you in wide eyed surprise. The rare expression on his face would almost hilarious if it weren’t for the fact that it was so depressing. “He hasn’t even kissed me yet.”

“What?” Shaw says so loudly that a few patrons of the cafe you’re at glance at him with dirty looks. You slap his shoulder again with your purse. “Oi, how long have the two of you been dating already?”

You press your lips together, ticking the dates off on your fingers. “About a month now.”

“He’s gone an entire month without kissing you?” Shaw snorts, setting his teacup back on the table. You stare into his cup, watching the tiny bubbles fizz in his drink and pop at the surface. Who buys soft drinks in a cafe? “Are you sure he knows that the two of you are dating? He’s a bit dense, so he might not have gotten it through his thick skull-”

You give him a flat look. “Don’t insult my boyfriend like that,” you mumble, taking a bite of your strawberry tart. Shaw lets out a snort, resting his chin on his palm as he shakes his head at you.

“Am I wrong, though? The two of you are more hilarious to watch than a romance sitcom.”

You narrow your eyes at him, pointing your fork at him threateningly. “This is not,” you jab the utensil at his face for extra effect, “funny.”

This, of course, only has the opposite effect and sends Shaw into a fit of snickers and chortles. You glare at him, unamused, as he thumps a fist on his skateboard, laughing so hard you can see tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “Shaw! I’m being serious!”

“That’s exactly why-” Shaw wipes his eyes, looking like he’s trying very hard to stop himself from dissolving into laughter, “-it’s so damn funny.”

“I will end you.” You mutter, stabbing the fork into your tart mutinously and wishing it was Shaw’s face instead. Massaging his aching sides, Shaw slides back into his chair bonelessly, the odd chuckle or two still escaping him. “Okay, okay, being serious. Do you want my dear old brother to give you a real kiss?”

The question is so obvious that you shoot him a glare, wondering if he’s making fun of you again. “Of course I do! Every time I think he’s going to kiss me, it just ends up on the forehead or cheek. This area,” you gesture furiously at your lips with your fork, “has gone completely deprived for months! And every single time he doesn’t go for it, I think oh, maybe I should try taking the lead instead, but then he smiles at me with that really cute innocent face of his and I just can’t do it.”

Shaw blinks at you for a moment before he pats you on the back sympathetically. He must have been a little surprised by your emotional ramble. “There there, it’s not good for you to get so worked up over something like this. You’re aging, you should look out for your blood pressure levels-”

You gape at him for a few seconds, before you reach for your purse and immediately start swatting at him furiously like he’s a mosquito that you need to destroy. “I am not old! I’m barely a few years! Older than you! The disrespect, you bastard!”

“Ouch, yeowch! Stop abusing me, woman!” Shaw scrambles out of the chair from under your flailing hands, trying to avoid your hits. You’re not usually so easily agitated, but Shaw just has that effect on you - you want to smack that annoying smirk off his face the second he opens his mouth. “I’ll be serious from now on. Strategies, strategies...”

You sink back into your chair, cheeks flushed slightly from the exertion. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” You bemoan, putting your face in your hands. “You’re of no help at all, Shaw.”

He has the gall to look offended. “Do you have any idea who you’re talking to? If I can get ladies, I’m sure I can help you get one man, even if he’s a little slow on the uptake.”

“I said, stop insulting my boyfriend.” You scold, taking a more careful sip of your latte now, wary in case Shaw decides to say something strange again. “And your ideas are terrible, if they don’t involve something illegal...” your words trail off, and you frown as you think back on all his schemes and plans. “Wow. I just realised that all your plans so far have been illegal.”

“Who cares if they’re illegal or not as long as they work? I have a hundred percent success rate. Guaranteed fucking by the end of the plan.”

You fix him with a dubious look.

“I won’t even charge you for it. Take it as a congratulatory gift or something.” Shaw props his feet on the table, ignoring the dirty glare you throw at him from the side. “So, do you want to hear this plan or not?”

You take one good, long stare at him, before you sigh and down the remainder of your latte. What else do you have to lose?

“Hit me with your worst, I suppose.” You say, defeated, and Shaw grins, pumping a fist in the air.

“Leave it all to me.”

You feel like you already regret saying that.

iii. numero uno

Plan Numero Uno is an absolute disaster.

You’d been at the location of one of your shoots, which happened to be the precinct for your latest police feature documentary, organizing the lighting and curtains for the interview room. After realizing that you would need some cleaning solution in order to wipe down the glass of the interrogation rooms, you decided to find some yourself in the storage room, not wanting to trouble the janitors. Gavin, who’d been at the station, offered to help you out.

“You’re really a lifesaver, Gavin.” You tell your boyfriend softly, as he walks in step beside you. He’s not touching you, maintaining just enough distance between the two of you to remain professional and appropriate, but you notice the way he instinctively leans towards you in some sort of subconscious attempt to stay closer to you. You giggle internally, giving an absentminded nod to a janitor walking past you, lavender hair peeking out from beneath the brim of a dark cap. He’s cute.

“You needed help and I know where the supplies are.” Gavin nods simply as if offering his assistance is nothing more than second nature to him, guiding you to a black, nondescript door labelled ‘cleaning supplies’. “Here, it shouldn’t be locked.”

He opens the door for you, and you switch on the lights as you step into the small, cramped room barely large enough for one person. A single bulb flickers overhead, and you squint in the dim light to read the peeling labels on the bottles. “Detergent... Hydro... Hydrogen peroxide? Ahh, glass cleaner.” You reach on your tiptoes to get it, but unfortunately are still too short to so much as brush the bottom with your fingers. Gavin smiles slightly at your plight, and you shoot a pitiful look at him that says ‘please don’t make fun of me’.

“Let me get that for you.” Gavin suggests, stepping over to the rickety shelves. His firm chest presses against your back as he reaches over your head to get the bottle of cleaning solution, and you freeze, chewing on your bottom lip as you feel him move about behind you. You hope the light isn’t bright enough for him to see the clear blush on your cheeks. His body is very warm.

And also very hard.

“I got it, I can carry it for you.” Gavin says, seemingly oblivious to your plight. You force a smile on your face as you thank him, desperate to get out of here as fast as possible before you pin him to the wall and kiss him senseless yourself. “That’s great! Then let’s get out of here, it’s far too cramped-”

Just as you’re reaching for the door, you hear a click of a lock.

You pause with your hand on the doorknob, before attempting to twist it. The door doesn’t budge in the least. What.

“Gavin, I think the door is jammed.” You say, shaking the doorknob a little more aggressively. There’s no denying it, it’s well and truly locked. It doesn’t budge in the least even when you pull and push with all your might. “Did you do something to it when you came in?”

“I didn’t even shut the door.” Gavin replies, surprise colouring his voice. “Let me see.”

The room was very clearly meant for only one person, because when Gavin squeezes past you to get to the door, you’re sure every inch of his body is brushing against yours. You try your very best not to let out any strange sounds, instead choosing to keep your mouth shut and watch as Gavin inspects the door carefully.

“This door is locked from the outside by the janitor at the end of each day, even though it usually isn’t at this time.” Gavin says seriously, inspecting the lock. “One of them might have made a mistake when they saw the door left open and locked it thoughtlessly.”

Locked in a cleaning supply closet together with Gavin... why does that sound so familiar, you wonder, before the words click in your mind together with a familiar smirk and bleached lavender hair hidden beneath a dark cap.

Shaw! You scream internally in realization. Just a week ago at that cafe he had been talking about the exact same thing, but it had clearly been such an awful plan that you hadn’t bothered shooting it down instantly, thinking that he was just making a joke.

Well, it seems that he has made a joke - only out of you.

Before you can think up a thousand and one ways to kill Shaw in his sleep, Gavin turns around and you instantly purge all murderous intent from your face, directing an awkward smile at him. In the cramped space of the room, the two of you are pressed so close that you can feel the body heat radiating off him. His face is barely inches from yours, and almost helplessly, your eyes flick down to trace the outline of his lips. You can’t help it - everything you’ve wanted for so long is right there, as if you could just reach out and take it-

Gavin calls your name softly, and you look up to see him gazing intently at you. Your breath hitches in your throat, and your lips tingle. Is he going to...

“Stand back.” He says firmly, and you blink in confusion. “I’ll take care of this.”

The next second, Gavin raises up one leg, and lashes out at the door with a single swift, powerful kick. Your yelp of surprise is drowned out by the sound of the door swinging wide open, allowing light from the hallway to flood into the dingy storage room. His show of controlled power has your mouth hanging open in a mixture of shock and wide eyed awe.

The door is open, and you’re more disappointed than you have been in weeks.

Gavin turns around to extend a hand to you, the other hand gripping the bottle of glass cleaner tightly. “Shall we go? They must still be waiting for us.”

With a pained smile at your dear boyfriend’s obliviousness, you take his hand, lips still very much kiss deprived and heart just a little bit heavy.

Plan one, bust.

iv. little black dress

“Shaw, this idea is somehow worse than the first.”

“What do you mean, worse? The last one was an anomaly, this time will definitely work.” Shaw clicks his tongue as he rifles through another rack with a cursory eye. You trail along behind him, trying to cover your face with your purse, cheeks flaming red. “Shaw... Shaw! What exactly are we doing in... in a...”

The words lingerie boutique simply refuse to leave your mouth, your face colouring in mortified crimson until you’re sure it matches the shade of lace underwear barely clinging on to the mannequin’s hips. “I thought you said you were going to help me!”

Shaw lets out an ungraceful snort. “Well, you don’t think I’m here to buy one of these for myself, were you?” He holds up a racy black leather bodysuit up to you, giving you a cursory once over. “Hmm, might fit. Doesn’t seem like your type, though. You’re not bold enough to pull it off.”

“What?” You hiss through clenched teeth, trying to hide behind a rack when the shop assistant glances over at the two of you curiously. “No! I said I want a kiss from Gavin, not all of this,” you gesture wildly at the entire shop, “this risque stuff!”

“Think about it, if the two of you bang, we increase the chances of him kissing you. Truly a big brain moment.” Shaw says very seriously, in the same tone of voice he uses when he’s rehearsing his archaeology project presentations. You stare at him for a moment in horror, wondering for a moment whether he’s being serious or not, before you catch one corner of his mouth quirking up in the telltale signs of a shit eating grin.

“You little bastard-” You begin, swatting at him with your handbag furiously. Shaw simply laughs outright, ducking out of the way of your swings. “What kind of woman do you think I am? I thought you were seriously trying to help me here-”

“I was just joking,” Shaw manages through his laughter as he dodges yet another swing, too quick on his feet for you to actually hit him. “But being totally honest here, I still think he’d like to see you in one of these.” He holds up a sheer white babydoll and you instantly make a face, but inside you’re a little hesitant, a little curious. 

Would Gavin really like... seeing you in something like this?

“Of course, we could always put you in a gift box and deliver you to his apartment.” Shaw hums, inspecting the lacy material a little more carefully. He seems far too familiar with it than you’re comfortable with. “Hmm, maybe something like this is a little too much fabric. Ease of access is priority, you know?”

“Too much fabric?” You squeak, glancing at the lingerie set. It’s more holes than lace, with very convenient slits in the fabric that would do little to cover, well, anything. You’d rather die than be seen dead in it. “What’s enough fabric, then?”

“Enough fabric means no fabric. Convenience is key.” Turning around, Shaw slips the lingerie back onto the rack, completely ignoring your flaming cheeks and the way your mouth is hanging wide open. “Oh, I just had the best idea. We pack you in a nice gift box to my dear old brother’s apartment, and you wear nothing but a bow. Pretty sure he’ll appreciate the view. I’m his brother, after all. We’ve got similar tastes.”

All you manage to let out in response is a mortified, choked noise. The sheer thought of Gavin seeing you like that has your head spinning, heart running at a million miles per hour. “I-I... I-”

“Cat got your tongue?” Shaw snickers at the expression on your face, and you simply let out another strangled sound. “I was just joking about the bow bit. We could always put it on the box instead.”

You gape at him, unable to think straight. “No.”

“You can be naked if you want to,” Shaw continues loudly, over your protests. The shop assistants are starting to stare, and you desperately wish the ground would swallow you in all your entirety. “In fact, wearing nothing would be the best, and you get to save money too- oh, fuck.”

You blink in surprise at the sudden shift in his attitude, before you turn to glance in the same direction that Shaw’s looking in. To your absolute horror, you see Gavin walking through the mall with both hands tucked in the pockets of his windbreaker, eyes focused straight ahead of him. He’s not looking at you, but the sight of him is enough for your heart to go from running a million miles per hour to absolute motionless in a matter of seconds.

For a second, you swear your eyes almost meet.

Just kill me now.

“Goddamn, Shaw, hide!” You whisper scream in desperation, shoving at him with a strength you never knew you had. Caught off guard, he stumbles over a rack of lacy underwear and falls face first into a changing room before you’re diving in after him as quick as your body will allow. You don’t chance a look back before you’re throwing the curtains shut.

“Ow, fuck, you’re stepping on my foot.” Shaw complains from the floor, and you barely spare him a glance, easing the curtain open a crack so that you can peer out of the changing room. “Shaw, if Gavin ever finds out about this, I will end you in your sleep.”

“That’s not really scary coming from you.” Shaw whistles, looking unconcerned. You turn your head back to give him the worst glare you can muster. “I’ll break into your house with the spare key and replace your shampoo with toilet bleach.”

“Fuck, okay, I’ll shut up.” Shaw raises both hands in surrender. He manages approximately five seconds of silence before he’s speaking again. “I’m sure brother dearest wouldn’t mind seeing you in a lingerie shop, though. In fact, he’d probably get pretty excited-”

You squat on the ground next to Shaw, put your hands in your face and let out a tiny cry of despair.

Next to you, Shaw only snickers.

v. the misunderstanding

When you leave work that evening, you see Gavin waiting for you outside your apartment, much to your surprise. He’s still dressed in his uniform, white button up and black slacks paired with fingerless gloves. At the sight of him, your heart flutters in your chest traitorously; you had once mentioned casually to Gavin that you very much enjoyed the sight of him dressed in any sort of uniform, and he’d taken full advantage of your weakness.

You wonder if today is one such situation.

“Gavin, you’re here!” You call excitedly and hurry over to him, before he can so much as turn around your hands are already on his chest, eyes narrowed. “Now, what sort of injury did you get this time? Don’t even try hiding it from me, just because you’re in a uniform doesn’t mean that I’ll let you off-”

Your wrist is suddenly grasped in a firm but gentle grip, and you look up in surprise to see Gavin gazing at you with a sort of melancholy smile. Slightly concerned, you reach up with your other hand to cup his cheek lightly and he leans into your touch, his amber eyes fluttering shut. “Gavin?” You ask, suddenly hesitant. “Is something wrong?”

At your words, Gavin draws backwards and straightens up, before smiling down at you as if nothing is wrong. “I’m alright.” He says, but he sounds a little... off. “There have been reports of a suspicious figure in a black cap loitering around here recently. Come, I’ll walk you home.”

Peering up at him, you want to ask him what’s wrong. While Gavin has never been the type to wear his emotions freely on his sleeve, he’s also never explicitly tried to hide them from you, nor has he ever been very good at doing so. However, he doesn’t seem to be in the mood for talking, so after a minute or so of mindless chatter from you, you fall into a contemplative silence, wondering just what on earth has made your boyfriend mope like this.

As the two of you near your apartment block, you decide that you are unable to stand this awkward silence between you and Gavin. You can’t possibly stand letting him go tonight without figuring out what the problem is. Mentally pumping yourself up, you force your feet to a halt, and turn around to look at Gavin in the eye.

“Gavin, I-”

“I have something that-”

Both of you speak at the exact same time, and you blink at him in surprise. Gavin looks equally perplexed, but opens his mouth to speak again.

“You go first-”

“No, you first!” You insist, suddenly very nervous with his attention all on you. Better later than never, right? Gavin swallows, his eyes darting over your face for a moment, before he suddenly grabs both of your hands and squeezes them tightly in his.

“Am I...” His voice trembles ever so slightly, and you look up at him in alarm. “Am I... not enough for you?”

You stare.

You’re not sure if you heard that right. Gavin? Him? Not enough? For who? You?

Too stunned to reply, you simply gape at him, mouth hanging open uselessly like that of a goldfish on land. Clearly taking your silence to mean something else completely, he starts to ramble in a way you’ve never heard him before, gaze downcast as he speaks. 

“Today... I saw you and my... brother... in a...” He struggles to get the words out, cheeks dusted a dark pink and you immediately cover his mouth with both your palms, completely mortified. You’re not sure your ears (or your dignity) can take hearing Gavin say the words ‘lingerie boutique’. 

So he had seen you in that shop with Shaw after all!

You’re not sure if you want to laugh or scream. Perhaps both. Both is good.

“I... I didn’t know what to think, so I tried to ignore it. I know you probably have your own reasons, and I trust you, but I just couldn’t get it out of my mind. So I... here I am.” He finishes, looking completely embarrassed with himself. “I just... I just couldn’t bear the thought of someone else taking you from me. Because I...”  His voice grows tiny, but his words echo so loud in your heart. “Because I love you very much.”

Unable to stand how hotly your cheeks are burning, you dart forward to wrap your arms around Gavin’s waist, burying your face in his chest. His voice is a warm timbre above you and you feel his breath on the top of your head, soothing and familiar. “What’s the matter?”

“Today!” You shout into his chest, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. “I was with Shaw, because he said that he had an idea for me!”

Gavin’s hand comes up to rest in your hair, his long fingers combing through the strands carefully. “Idea?”

“Yes, an idea!” You can feel your face ready to spontaneously combust, and hope that he can’t feel the heat on your cheeks through the thin fabric of his shirt. “An idea to... to get you to kiss me.”

Gavin’s fingers still in your hair. “Why didn’t you just ask me?”

You pull back to stare at Gavin in the face, stunned. “That’s all it would have taken? All I had to do, was ask?” You repeat after him, incredulous, but apparently Gavin is totally serious, because he nods earnestly in response. “I was waiting for you to be ready because I didn’t want to rush you.” He explains, and you bury your face in your hands, ready to be dive headfirst into the concrete of the sidewalk.

“All that effort, for nothing!” You shout at the bushes lining the road, and Gavin stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head. “I just wanted a kiss, and you tell me now that all I needed to do was to ask? Damn Shaw’s advice to hell! I agonized over this for weeks, I still haven’t gotten my kiss, and now I find out-”

Before you can carry on with your embarrassed and angry tirade, Gavin’s rough hands are cupping the sides of your face. You barely have time to so much as breathe before his lips touch yours gently, the merest brush of his mouth sending your pulse stuttering dangerously in seconds.

Gavin slowly pulls away and you see that his cheeks are stained red. His eyes are fixed very firmly on the spot just behind your shoulder. “Was that... enough of a first kiss for you?”

Your own cheeks flame and you nod, too embarrassed to say anything else, your lips still burning hot. “Come on... let’s go.” You tug at his sleeve. “You haven’t had dinner, right? I’ll cook something for the both of us.”

Gavin beams at you warmly and you try to stop your heart from leaping out of your chest.

When the two of you step into your apartment lobby, the security guard uncle waves you over, much to your surprise. “There’s a package for you.” He informs, passing you a nondescript box wrapped in black paper. “The sender wanted to remain anonymous but said he was a friend of yours. It’s a congratulatory gift, apparently.”

You frown down at the box in your hands, shaking it gently; the sound is muffled, and it doesn’t sound like there are any hard objects inside. Before you can tear the paper off it, however, Gavin covers your hands with his, shaking his head.

“It could be something dangerous.” Gavin says seriously, eyes narrowed as he stares down the package in your hands. “Let me open it.”

You hand the package over to Gavin, and watch him open the package methodically with practiced hands, heart beating in your chest rapidly as the contents are revealed only to finally... stop dead.

Inside the box is a familiar scrap of white lace tied with a big red bow, a clean white card resting on the fabric.

Congratulations on finally face fucking! Now go bang your man! - Lightning Boi

Gavin doesn’t move for a moment, deathly still as he stares at the gift in his arms. Outside, you think you hear the wind howling. One sentence leaves his mouth. “I’ll kill him.”

You’re not going to stop him.

On the sidewalk outside, beneath a lamp post, the wind lifts the cap off a man dressed in black to reveal shocking purple hair and a cheeky grin. 

“Hundred percent success rate.” He hums to himself, pleased.

[hazzoranstories]

Damon Salvatore x Reader One-Shot | Katerina’s Sabotage Part 2

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Includes: Nudity, angst, harsh language, and mentions of blood

________________________________________________________________________________

*Mystic Falls, Virginia; 1864*

The next day Stefan woke up abruptly, groaning loudly. He looked around frantically and saw he was near a river. He unbuttoned his shirt to see his bullet wound completely healed. His eyes then fell on a blue ring around his finger.

"Katherine had me make that for you weeks ago," Emily cut in.

"Where am I?" The brother questioned.

"The quarry just north of town. My brother and I brought you here last night. We found you dead in the woods," the witch answered.

"Where's Damon?" Emily nodded behind him, and he shot around to see his brother sitting near the water without a shirt.

"Am I -- am I a --" Stefan stumbled over his words.

"Not yet. You're in transition," Emily said.

"But how? I --"

"You had Katherine's blood in your system when you died," the Bennett interrupted his rambling.

"No. I never --"

"She's been compelling you to drink it for weeks, Stefan," Emily muttered with a frown.

"And Damon?"

"No compulsion was necessary. He drank from Y/N willingly."

~:*:~

Stefan walked towards his brother near the river, who didn't blink once, and sat down next to him. "I woke up last night. I didn't know where I was. I went to the church. And I watched them drag her inside. Both of them . . . . then they set fire to it. And the whole church went up into flames," Damon explained and stared blankly at nothing. He then looked up to his younger brother with such vulnerability that Stefan had never seen before. "They killed them, Stefan. She's gone," he began sobbing, taking shaky and long breaths to try and calm himself down.

~:*:~

The night previous was the worst night of Y/N's life since she found her entire family dead back in 1492. The love of her life was shot, she was taken by hunters, and betrayed by her sister. While the vampires were being loaded into the church, Katherine compelled one of the guards to let her go. Not both of them like she had promised. She promised. Y/N knew her sister, and she knew she wasn't the best person in the world, but when she promises something to her, she always keeps it. Only to her, though. Everyone else doesn't matter enough to Katherine to keep promises. Y/N was her only family left, and she'd never admitted it, but Katherine needed her.

But that night, she realized just how weak her sister really was. She got penetrated by her feelings for Damon, and that cost her to lose Katherine's respect towards her. Y/N was useless to her. So she let her rot in that tomb along with Pearl and all the others.

She was selfish and cruel, but she didn't care. Like she's done since 1492, she takes care of herself first. Not her sister. Not her friends. Or even Stefan. Herself.

~:*:~

*Mystic Falls, Virginia: The Church Tomb; Present Day*

"Look, he needs leverage. He needs to know that you're not going to shut the door when he gets inside. I get it. I'll go," Elena cut off the argument between Damon and Sheila.

"May I?" Damon sniggered and grabbed a torch. The vampire dragged the doppelganger inside.

"What is that?" Elena whimpered in fear.

"They can sense you. Now, where is she?" the 25-year-old mumbled. He ran off, leaving Elena by herself in a tomb full of vampires.

"Damon!" Elena cried and looked around in the darkness, getting slightly frightened.

Damon searched for Y/N or even Katherine as fast as he could, trying not to trip over the bodies of decaying vampires. He looked over the tomb three times before starting to get furious.

"She's not down here. She's not even here!" the vampire screamed in pain as Stefan ran down next to him.

"What is it?" Stefan asked frantically for once, concerned for his brother.

"She's not here!" the older Salvatore barked and threw the blood bag he had brought for Y/N into the wall before letting out another cry. Y/N had placed herself in the very dark and secluded corner when she first arrived in the tomb. She didn't take any of Pearl's attempts to comfort her, and she hadn't opened her mouth to speak in 145 years. The last words she said was a sad whisper to her sister as she was shoved into the church.

She heard the Salvatore's voices and soon saw Damon with Stefan chasing after him as he let out his anger. She tried to yell to Damon but could barely part her lips.

"It doesn't make sense they locked her inside," Damon uttered.

"If we don't leave now, we're not getting out," Stefan stated firmly, but Damon kept muttering to himself.

"Damon," Y/N croaked, that was so quiet she wouldn't have been heard if it wasn't for the amazing hearing provided with vampirism. The two brothers snapped their heads to where the voice came from and saw the dirty fabric of a corset poking out from the blackness.

Both Salvatore's ran over to the corner and saw a lean figure slouched down. "Y/N?" Damon whispered and reached into the darkness, feeling the decayed skin of a hand. The older vampire handed the torch to Stefan and nudged Y/N out from the corner into the light.

The brothers gasped once they saw the iconic curly black hair that came with the Pierce sisters. "Y/N? Y/N, love, here. Come here," Damon bit his wrist before bringing it to Y/N's lips. Once it fell onto her tongue, she snapped alive and clutched onto her lover's wrist.

"Damon!" Elena shouted, but everyone ignored her until she ran in. "Please," she begged, but once she saw the eldest Salvatore feeding a vampire, her expression softened.

"Come on, Damon. She can feed later," Stefan rushed, and Damon stood Y/N up. She stumbled, but Damon caught her and picked her up bridal style. The three started running out, with Y/N clutching onto Damon's leather jacket. Once they got out, everyone let out a sigh of relief.

The fire went out, and the two Bennetts started panting as they unlinked hands. Stefan pulled Elena to his chest, but the younger Salvatore looked over to his older brother. Damon was looking at Y/N in pure horror at what's happened to her but also such joy that she's in his arms again.

Stefan let go of Elena and went over to his brother. Without one word, he patted Damon's shoulder and gestured up the stairs.

~:*:~

Back at the Salvatore boarding house, Damon walked up to his room without another word, with Y/N still encased in his arms. He set her down on his bed and walked into his large bathroom, turning on the shower. He went back over Y/N, who was still too weak to move well.

He slowly stripped her of her dress and other garments until she was completely bare. He lifted her back up and brought her to the shower. He set her down on the ground, and with his clothes still on; he washed the Pierce with tenderness.

~:*:~

Once Y/N was fully washed, dressed in some of Damon's clothes, and fixed up, Damon went downstairs and got her two blood bags. When he arrived, he sat down in the bed next to her and pulled her into him. As she downed the blood bags, her skin began to lose the greyness and plump back to its original form. Once she was done, she exhaled in euphoria.

Damon grabbed both bags and set them on the nightstand. Now, Y/N moved almost to her full ability and felt both physically and mentally stronger. She turned around to face Damon, who's face was serious. Every feature was tensed, and it looked almost sad.

"Thank you, Damon," the Pierce whispered and smiled lightly. She was going to kiss his cheek when he dodged her, making Y/N shoot him a hurt look. "What's wrong, love?" she questioned and ran her cold hand across his neck. He looked so different from what she last remembered. She knew the transformation would change him but not this much. His jaw was sharper, eyebrows thicker, hair shorter and straight, which she didn't particularly enjoy. His hair was one of her favorite parts of him; he looked older even though he couldn't age, shoulders were broader and more muscular, which made him heavier. However, he was still lean, and his eyes . . . . oh god, his eyes. They didn't look bright and lively like they were when he was human. They looked duller, sadder, and the most noticeable feature was how if you looked at them the right way, they pierced into your soul. Not in a good way. In almost a scary way. Or at least, it was scary for Y/N.

"Talk to me, Damon," she pleaded.

Damon's sharp eyes fell on hers and, without blinking, asked, "what the hell happened?"

Y/N was taken back by his language even though it wasn't bad, but Damon never swore. Ever. She pushed her shock aside and looked at him straight in the eye even though she didn't enjoy it. "That night in 1864, Katerina betrayed me. She compelled the guard of the church to let her go. She had a plan to escape long before they caught us, and she even talked to me about leaving Mystic Falls," she began explaining as Damon showed no emotions. "She promised me that we would escape together and that once we turned you and Stefan that I could be with you forever. Just like we planned. But I guess she changed her mind or something because she only compelled the guard to free her. Not me. So, I was left in that tomb with the rest of them. I don't know where Katerina is or why she did what she did, but it's something I can't deal with right now," once she finished, Y/N went quiet as Damon gazed at her.

"I'm sorry . . . . I'm sorry I didn't save you that night. I promised that I would protect you against my father, but I guess I was too weak. Hell, I couldn't even get the damn door down," the Salvatore groaned and placed his hands over his eyes. He took a deep breath and soon removed them.

Before he could look at Y/N again, her lips collided with his. He grunted in surprise but quickly kissed back. He had been starved of her kisses for too long, and he finally got to taste her again after more than a century. He was finally back with his love.

[snowdragon4]

Cops and Robbers. A Bbrae AU

As much as Rachel enjoyed her job, she couldn’t help, but feel exhausted coming home at the end of a long day. Maybe it was the fact that she was on her feet all day, thank goodness for whoever invented flats. Still it was stable and fine work, a solid nine to five, giving her enough time to get home to work on her novel. The monotony of her daily routine was broken up when on her way home she noted a healthy handful of police cars driving around her neighborhood.

“Huh? I wonder if Dick could let me know what’s going on?” She of course was referring to her cop neighbor, Dick Grayson, but driving by his house, all the lights were shut off. “Maybe he and Kory are out.” She shrugged it off and parked her car before entering her home.

She moved through the doors of her modest three bedroom home as she usually did. Keys and mail on the table by her door, purse and jacket on a hook, turned on the TV for a bit of background noise and a nice cold beer in the fridge calling her name. She figured she’d make herself dinner, take a hot bath, and settle in for a night of writing.

With the news in the background she went about her nightly routine.

“—citizens of Jump city should be advised that the suspect could be armed and dangerous. For those who are just joining, please be on the lookout for Garfield Mark Logan, who escaped police custody earlier this evening—“

She took a beer from the fridge and removed the cap. “If his parents named him ‘Garfield’ they belong in prison too.” She commented dryly.

“—Garfield is wanted for the murder—“

She had gone to the counter when something had occurred to her. Going back she opened the door to the fridge and noticed something.

She was a creature of habit and structure, bordering on obsessive compulsiveness, but it made sense to keep her world in order at least. She had so much practice in fact that she noticed things out of place, even if it was just a fleeting glance. In this case there was something wrong with her beer. Was she missing one? She went shopping the other day, and only allowed herself and one a day or less, so surely she couldn’t have had more than one.

She counted a few more times, but came to the conclusion that she was, somehow, short one beer.

She took a step back when she felt something crunch beneath her heel. Lifting her foot she saw a pebble and some dirt, something she hadn’t noticed before. Didn’t she just clean the other day? Looking around she noticed more and more dirt leading from her kitchen and to the back door.

A back door that wasn’t locked.

If there was one thing she was absolutely sure about, it was that she ALWAYS locked her doors.

Her blue eyes flitted to the TV, noting the news report about an escaped convict, but surely he wouldn’t have run into a suburban neighborhood. That kind of stuff only happened in movies. Right?

She broke into a run, heading for her front door, but her hand had barely touched the knob when she felt someone wrap their arm around her waist and a hand clap over her mouth. Reacting purely on instinct, she stumped on their foot, eliciting a manly grunt of pain, and elbowed them in the ribs causing them to release her.

Momentarily free, she ran for the back door, telling herself she just had to get next door to Dick and Korys house. Nobody may have been home, but she would have felt safer in a cops home.

She weaved through the kitchen, aware that he was right behind her, but she kept her eyes on the door. She put her hands around the knob, but felt a pair of hands grab her arms and pull her back. She stumbled over something, him possibly, and fell backwards, hitting her head on the counter and collapsing onto the floor unconscious.

—:0:—

Her head was pounding as she slowly came back to consciousness, but when she tried to move her hands, they were stuck, in fact she couldn’t move any part of her body. Regardless of how much pain she was in, her eyes snapped open, finding that she was tied to a chair. Her hands had been pulled behind the chair, rope wrapping around her wrists and to the bars of the chair. Her ankles had been tied to the bottom rung of the chair and rope had been thrown over her lap, waist, and shoulders to keep her tied firmly to the chair back. Moving her head she felt one of her scarves had been stuffed in between her teeth and tied behind her head.

Saying she was in trouble was an understatement.

She wanted to panic, but she forced her rational, obsessive mind to take control. She took a few breaths through her nose to assess her situation. Looking around she was in her bedroom, the curtains drawn and the door closed. She had been tied to one of her kitchen chairs with rope that she kept in her garage that she used when she went camping to enjoy nature and solitude.

Her panic returned.

She had been unconscious, did he…?

She looked at herself, and aside from the rope she was still in the clothes she was in when she got home, white button up shirt and black skirt with flats, and nothing had been removed. Aside from the pain in her head, and the discomfort of the rope, she didn’t feel pain anywhere else.

Her rational mind returned.

So he knocked me out? Tied me up, but didn’t take advantage of me? He’s probably looting my home. But all of her valuables were in her room, were she was alone.

Still, a strange man was in her home, she was tied up and helpless. This wasn’t good.

Red and blue lights flashed outside her window, and a spark of hope lit inside her. Using her whole body, she began pushing the chair towards the window. If she could somehow get the curtain open, maybe someone could see her and possibly rescue her.

It was worth a shot, but not to be.

The door to her room opened and her chair was quickly grabbed and pulled away from the window. She grunted and growled behind her gag, struggling against the tight ropes. Whatever he was going to do, she was going to make it as hard for him as possible.

But she wasn’t expecting this.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry! Please calm down! please!”

She paused. Sorry? Please? She focused on the man, seeing that it wasn’t quite a “man” at all. He was young, twenties maybe, with disheveled blonde hair and a dirty complexion and clothing. His eyes were a piercing green that were pleading, fearful, and remorseful. Her brows narrowed, angry, but curious. What kind of home intruder was this?

He sighed in relief when she settled down. “Thank you.” He stood up and started pacing, his hands running through his blonde locks. “I am so, so, so, so, sorry about this. I didn’t mean for this to happen. Any of this. It's just—ugh!” She involuntarily flinched at his outburst. “Oh! Sorry, sorry, sorry I didn’t mean…” He continued babbling incoherently, that was beginning to grate on her nerves, but looking past him, saw that he had brought in a water bottle. For her maybe?

“Uughmph!” She grunted to get his attention, then motioned her head towards the water bottle.

“Oh! Yeah!” He grabbed it and brought it towards her. “Sorry, I’m just,” he paused, “wait, you're not gonna scream are you?”

She watched him closely, he broke into her home, attacked her, tied her up, and was now helpless and at his mercy.

Yet she wasn’t afraid.

Slowly, she shook her head no. He eyed her for a moment, but slowly came up to slip the gag from her mouth.

She moved her jaw around, sighing with relief, but didn’t scream. “Thank you.” She could see weight being lifted from his shoulders and a small, attractive smile on his lips. “Um, water?”

“Oh yes!” He brought it to her lips and allowed her a small drink. Her eyes closed at the liquid cooling her insides, helping to soothe and calm her down. She finished and he took the bottle away.

“Thank you.” She flexed against the rope. “Now can you untie me?”

The weight returned, and his smile faded into a worried stare. “Um… not yet, but if you don’t scream I’ll keep the gag out.”

Their eyes met, and still she couldn’t find any malice or maliciousness. She didn’t feel threatened, rather this felt like a necessity for him, self preservation, like a cornered animal.

Still she had to keep her guard up.

“Fair enough.”

He sighed again, becoming more relaxed, and he sat on top of her bed, a heavy silence settling between them. “So, um, you’re probably wondering what’s going on?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m mildly curious.”

He laughed nervously. “Right. Well, um, I’m Gar, and I’m…”

“—on the run from the police?” He looked surprised, “you’re on the news. Everyone is looking for you.”

His eyes dipped with what looked like hurt. “Oh.” Her head tilted in curiosity as he leaned forward to put his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry…”

Now getting annoyed, “You’ve said that already.” She struggled against the ropes again. “Do you mind telling me what you're doing here?”

He lifted his head, wiping away a few tears. “Sor—erm, yes. Well,” he stood up, “I should start from the beginning I guess. So I was dating this girl, Terra, and I was crazy about her, but what she didn’t tell me was that another guy was obsessed with her. Some guy named Slade, I don’t know, but anyways he was stalking her, calling her, following her, all kinds of stuff.”

He slowed down, his voice tightening up. “I, uh, was at work, and when I got home…” his hands came up to his mouth, “she was…”

She couldn’t help but feel pity for him. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded, wiping his tears again. “Thanks. Anyways I called the cops and when they showed up, they arrested ME?”

Her head lifted. “What? Why?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. They just showed up and slapped the cuffs on me! Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

She waited a beat, wondering if he was serious or just stupid. “No. I have no idea what it’s like for someone to come uninvited to my home and restrain me against my will.”

He chuckled nervously. “Heh. Sorry—I mean. Um… anyways…”

There was silence for a moment or two. “Why did you escape? Why not just go to the station and plead your case?” She asked.

“I did! I mean, I wanted to…but I don’t know.” His hands ran through his hair again. “The cop car they took me in was T-boned, and the next thing I knew I was running for my life.”

She quirked a brow as she came to the conclusion on her own. “You mean you broke into my home by chance?”

He nodded. “It was the only home I saw with the lights off at the time, I picked the lock, and snuck inside. I grabbed a beer and was gonna leave when the heat died down, but then, I heard your neighbors leave so I hid.”

“Then I got home, and the rest is history.” She finished.

“Yeah. I hid as best I could, but when I saw you see the dirt on the ground, I knew I was done.” He motioned to the ropes. “I didn’t mean to do that to you, but I didn’t know what else to do. I just panicked.”

She relaxed a bit. “I see.”

Silence again, this time a bit more uncomfortable. “So, um, what’s your name?”

He shrunk beneath her glare. “You broke into my home, knocked me out, drank my beer, and tied me up. We are not going to have small talk.”

He gulped with another nervous smile. “Cool.”

He clapped his hands on his knees. “So what now?” She asked.

He shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

She pulled against the rope again. “Well if you're open to suggestions.”

“I know, I know, I can untie you and I will, I promise. I just need to think.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well take your time, it’s not like my hands need steady blood flow or anything.” She softened her tone. “But seriously. You need to turn yourself in, if you’re innocent then an investigation will show that.”

He nodded. “I know, I know. I guess I’m just not a fan of being caged or anything.” He stood up. “Just, give me a minute.” He left her alone, giving her a chance to test the ropes again, but they were unyielding. She couldn’t help but feel impressed by his knot work.

After a few minutes of struggling she sat back and relaxed, unable to free herself she had nothing left to do but wait for him to let her go. Hopefully soon since she had lost the feeling in her hands a while ago.

Finally after what felt like ages he returned. “Okay, here’s the plan.” He untied the scarf from her neck. “I’m going to turn myself in, but there’s some things I need to do first, but here’s the bad part. I’m gonna to leave you here.”

She was actually relieved to hear this. He wasn’t dangerous, sure, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be a hostage. “But I’m not gonna untie you either. I’m gonna make a 911 call and tell them about a pretty dark haired woman tied up and get the cops to come and untie you. Sound good?”

Her face was placid as she responded, but ultimately relieved. “Do I have a choice?”

He chuckled. “I guess not. Again, I’m sorry about all this.”

He brought the scarf to her mouth to regag her. “Rachel.”

“Huh?”

“My name. It’s Rachel.”

He smiled. A wide smile that made her stomach flutter. “Rachel. Nice to meet you.”

—:0:—

The door burst open. “Police! Show me your hands!” Rachel flinched at the light shining in her eyes. “Is there anyone else in the house?” She shook her head as the officer came closer once the light was out of her eyes, she saw her neighbor, Dick Grayson remove the gag from her mouth.

“Took you long enough,” she droned, “did you stop for drive through?”

He let out a relieved chuckle, “Don’t you mean, ‘thank you for saving me’?”

“You’re right Dick, how about I give you a big hug… Oh wait.”

He moved behind her and began to undo the ropes. “Did you see who did this to you?”

“Nope.” She stated matter of factly. “They knocked me out and I woke up like this.”

[herstarburststories]

The devil at your door

Kinktober day 3: Demon

Suptober day 3: Demonic

Pairing: Demon!Dean x reader

A/N: This one goes for @holylulusworld's 10k celebration, my trope was Lovers to Enemies. Congrats again, hon! And this is also my piece for @hardcoresupernatural 's Halloween challenge with the prompt: I'm not scared of you.

@deanmonandnegansbitch's asked: Deanmon x Reader, he realizes no one could tame the marks hunger like she did. And yet he lost her by sticking his dick in other women

Warnings: dirty talk, mentions of boob fucking, hints of dark sexual, angst if you squint, teasing

CATCH UP KINKTOBER: Day 1 / Day 2

Spending his whole life in imaginary chains had frustrated Dean Winchester more than he was aware of. He’d always done what his dad taught him; kept himself from what he wanted in order to be the good soldier — the hero — even if it was against his own desires. 

Dean saved the world once or twice and didn't get a thank you, a break long enough to relax or even visit the beach for the first time. No, hunters were never kids. Hunters never had time for fun. Hunters were made to be hunting. He always found himself fighting winless battles and ending up drowned in whiskey and self-pity.

Now it was all gone. His old persona never had time to be human, so losing that side of him wasn't a big deal. If anything, he felt better now. Whatever his green eyes wanted, Dean would go and get it.

No barbed ward could contain a demon, much less the Knight.

At first, it was funny. Messing around with Crowley, fucking some good, new pussies after tasting only yours, and causing destruction whenever he felt like it.

Then the thrill expired. Honestly, the Winchester pictured it would last longer. Crowley started bitching around like a whiny little man and the new girls no longer could satisfy him — that is, if they ever did. Dean was pretty sure he liked them so much because the cat and mouse play of finding a new toy, but at some point, the cat gets enough of the foreplay and wants to eat the prey. They were so boring in all their humanly forms: they didn't have his stamina, they didn’t know his sweet spots, and they didn’t enjoy all the mischievous things he wanted to do.

Only painting his knuckles with an aleatory idiot's blood could get a real smile out of him these days. Nonetheless, even throwing punches gets exhausting when they stop fighting back.

Where was the fun of being free?

It clicked him like one of the worst sounds of tortured souls screams; you. 

You used to be the wild in Dean's heart during hunter days. You knew all the bad things he wanted to do, and you moaned in pleasure through them. You knew his body and yours like religion and shamelessly worshipped them.

When he finds himself at your door after leaving a woman who just wanted some vanilla sex in a cheap motel, it shouldn't have been a surprise. At least, it's not in his uniquely demonic brand of rationality. As you open the door, the look on your face tells him you agree with that. 

Or so his deranged mind said.

You crossed your arms, the angle exposing your cleavage more as you leaned against the rose-colored door that he helped you paint months ago.

Dean used to think this little apple pie life was so savage, something out of his reach that he’d only get to touch in case of a miracle, like caressing the fire only to get a feel for the burn. Now he can't help but scrunch up his nose, disgusted by domestic, urban pleasures.

“What do you want, Dean?” You looked him up and down, a humorless smile on your face. “Got tired of fucking everyone with a pair of boobs?”

“I'm more interested in your boobs, sweetheart.” Dean isn't put off by your sarcasm, countering with the same flirty tone that used to get you riled up all the time.

Isn't the past such a beautiful memory?

“Go find someone your species, Winchester.” You rolled your eyes and pulled away, pushing the door closed before Dean's foot interrupted you.

He faked a pout. “Wow. That's racist, Y/N. This demon’s got feelings, you know?”

His childish attitude heats your system. Only Dean, demon or not, could push your buttons and get on your nerves in a matter of seconds. You pushed the pink door fully open with enough strength to make it slam against the wall with a loud crack. Dean doesn't look affected, though. You furiously glare at his lopsided grin.

“Do you also have a brain? I told you to leave. Get lost.”

“Come on, baby girl. I know you miss my cock. What about a night to remember?”

Believing he was the man you once loved was getting harder with every word he said. Your body seemed to recognize him easier, aching for him like some kind of spell. All you had after Dean Winchester left was a longing body and fury.

“Do you really think I'm gonna let you in my house for a quick fuck like I'm one of your one night stands?”

Dean appeared to be considering it for a moment, eyes focused on anything but you. His lips pursed before he glanced at you with a malicious beam. “Yes. You always said I was the best sex you ever had. Why not get a bit of it? You already know you won't regret that, sweetheart.”

You studied him, picturing what would bring a man who ran away back to what used to be his home. Dean had left as soon as he became a demon, the only trace of his existence being a note addressed to Sam and pieces of your heart. When you and Sammy finally found the eldest Winchester, he made was certain to make sure that you were aware of his very active sex life. He’d tacked on that he'd kill Sam and you both if you tried to save him.

You let him run like water after this. The Winchesters might have that wondrous codependency, but you didn't need something like that in your life. Especially not with a demonic cheater and murder.

Your eyes were too wide to ignore the warning signs now. Yet, that didn't answer why he was in your doorway. If he wanted to be saved, he'd go for Sam and call you from there. If he wanted to kill you, he wouldn't spend time talking about fond memories. He didn't look like a lost puppy looking for shelter either. So, what the fuck was this green-eyed devil doing here?

Quietude thickened while you noticed Dean not seeming to notice your silence, his eyes too busy observing your breasts. Your Dean Winchester was always a boob man, and he was looking like he'd fuck your titties on your porch for all your neighbors to see. It certainly wouldn't be yours and his first time with public sex. Still, that wasn't the point: he was here, hair longer than usual and cock clearly starting to awaken in his jeans…

Because he had missed you.

You chortled in dismay, unable to discern whether he was kidding or not despite the bulge in his pants, and that glimmer in his eyes already confirmed your suspicions. You knew him.

The realization almost cheered up your soul. Your reasoning stopped you from collecting hopes about that demoniac form of a man. Dean was here for carnal desire, not love. He had sex with other women while you spent sleepless nights crying into his old shirts. He broke you as the monster that he was — he deserved to suffer.

You didn't care if your heart would be a little more broken, or you pussy a bit needier after that.

“You missed fucking me, Dean? Missed my tight pussy squeezing your cock? Maybe my mouth on it? Or how you got it between my boobs? Did you miss how I taste?” You took a step closer to him, making Dean lift his glare to your face again. 

He wore a cocky smirk as he answered, “Not as much as you missed me.”

Dean was right. Your body cried for him, and so did your soul. Who fucking cares? He didn't before, and you would not now.

“Liar.” The word rolled letter by letter off of your tongue. “I can take care of myself, even call a friend to do that, but you came back just because you can't forget how eating my pussy like a fucking feast feels like. Can you, sweetheart?”

You used that stupid nickname that he often gave people. You were very aware that it would irritate him, as it was laced with the implication of another man putting his hands on you.

Dean quickly grabbed your waist tightly, pulling you closer to him. He groaned. It was that fucking sound he made when something truly made him furious, and you knew your panties were gone. His eyes flashed into darkness that replaced his glistening greens, and for some calamitous reason, that turned you on.

“You better not have let anyone fuck what's mine, Y/N. I'd rip his throat in front of you and fuck you right next to his body,” he spits out jealously. His posture radiated that usual, alpha-esque tenseness that tumbled you two into angry, possessive sex so many times before.

“So jealous. I loved to tease you only to get you rough on me. Throwing me against the wall, going so hard inside my pussy that the bed broke, holding me hard enough to leave marks. You wanted for my bruises too, right? How I'd scratch your back, bite your collarbone, ruin your neck for everyone to see you were mine, but I guess what you really liked about me was that I was as hungry for you as you were for me. I would’ve let you do anything to my body, and I did. Because I wasn’t scared of you, Dean, and I’m not scared of you now either.” The way your arms compulsively wrapped around his neck made you wonder if you really wanted to strangle him or pull him closer. You could smell his manly cologne mixed with sulfur. It shouldn't make you want him more. Your knees shouldn't be begging to kneel for him and suck his cock. Be stronger. “You could come in, throw my clothes away and fuck my boobs with your dick instead of your eyes. Hurt me good enough to make me ask for more. But you know what?”

“Mm?” Dean's reply came in a hum as you pressed your hips against his, causing his clothed cock to rub on your belly. It was a tiny bit of relief — finally. He missed this so much: he couldn't wait to slip into your tight pussy.

“You won't.” Your lips brushed against his before you pulled away. His hands left your body from his surprise at your words. A wry smirk was wrung from your lips despite your wet pussy. “You stuck your dick into other women as soon as you became… whatever this is.” You scoffed, pointing at him with a feigned disgust in your eyes that you knew your body disagreed with. “Go have fun with your hand, Dean.”

A light rose painted door was ultimately closed in his face.

Leave a comment and reblog. Feedback is magic! Check my day 1&2 of kinktober and my masterlist ♡

Dean's sweetheart: @akshi8278 (dean taglist open)

Hunters: @demonhunterbarbie  @bi-danvers0 @emilyshurley @desimarie12 (spn taglist open)

KINKTOBER TAGLIST: @psych0crybaby (NEW&OPEN)

WANNA BE TAGGED? SEND ME AN ASK OR DM.

[empyreanwritings]

Bloodlust

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader (Vampire AU)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: vampire things so mentions of blood, blood-sharing, language, hint of sexual themes, did i mention blood?

Summary: You are adjusting to life as a vampire. While everyone else wants to find a way to make you human again, Bucky is there to help you embrace being the princess of the night you are meant to be.

A/N: How did I manage to write 3k worth of words based on a one minute clip from the Vampire Diaries? I honestly have no idea, but I’m not going to question it! This is my entry for @littledarlinwrites​ Mystery AU writing challenge! I am sorry I am a few days late, but I’m finally catching up on all the challenges I signed up for, so I feel good :) My prompt will be bolded below! (Also, P.S. if y’all want a part 2, let me know bc I may be up to writing one!)

Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated :) x

"Welcome to the party!" A drunk frat boy greeted you and Bucky as you stepped into the home. "Ladies drink free until the sun comes up!"

You nodded, and Bucky guided you towards the dance floor. It looked like a sea of bodies, all dancing and grinding to the beat of the music under the strobe lights. Everyone reeked of cheap booze and fake blood, but they were having the time of their lives - you could tell by the way they all smiled and screamed whenever there was a good beat drop.

"Halloween party filled with drunk frat boys and sorority girls?" Bucky hummed, his signature smirk spreading across his face. "It's a buffet just waiting for you to splurge."

You inhaled. "Are you sure this is a good idea? Steve thinks-"

"Steve is a stick in the mud." He quickly cut you off. "He thinks every vampire should go to church and feed on Bambi. You need to learn how to control yourself while enjoying all that being a vampire has to offer! You just have to trust me!"

Part of you didn't understand how Steve and Bucky managed to stay friends after centuries together. They lived two very different lifestyles, and yet, they needed each other. Steve always tried his best to steer Bucky on the "right path," and Bucky had to constantly remind him that there was no right path for a vampire. They fed. They indulged. And if things get too hard, they turn off their emotions and continue to indulge. While you weren't sure if you ever wanted to get to that level, you respected Bucky because he always seemed so in control of his bloodlust.

Unlike Steve, who constantly struggled with wanting to tear people's heads off.

Bucky noticed your slight hesitation and pulled you onto the dancefloor. He squeezed you towards the middle where everyone was too lost in their own world to notice what was going on.

You stood there for a moment, just watching how easily Bucky fell into the crowd. His head was thrown back, eyes closed, as he swayed to the music. Girls seemed to flock to him instantly - all craving some sort of attention from the hot new guy.

He focused on one, making sure all the others lost interest once they realized he wasn't going to give them the time of day. Once no one else was looking at him, he pulled the girl close to his body. They were completely in tune with each other, and you saw right away the moment that Bucky started to use his compulsion against her. Her eyes grew wide, but she wasn't scared or trying to fight him off. The smell of blood hit your nose the second his fangs her neck, and you couldn't stop yourself from joining in on the fun.

 A girl in a nurse costume stood by herself on the edge of the dance floor. She sipped her drink and watched the crowd as if she were waiting for someone to ask her to dance. You smiled; she was exactly the person you wanted to feed from first.

She was quick to join the crowd with you when you held out your hand for her. You could feel the warmth of her skin radiating off of her and the sweet smell of vodka on her breath. She practically purred when you stroked your hands down the side of her face. You weren't sure if it was just the alcohol talking, or if she was truly into you, but you had a feeling she was going to enjoy this moment for as long as she could remember it.

"Don't scream," you compelled her. "You won't remember this when you walk away."

You ran your fingers through her hair and gently tilted her head to the side, giving you complete access to her neck. You could see the way her pulse moved her skin, and you gave yourself a few moments just to admire how delicate she looked at your mercy. And whether it was the alcohol in her system or not, she tasted delicious. You almost didn't stop until you heard Bucky's voice in your head reminding you that today wasn't about killing, it was about feeding.

The rush of the blood and the beat of the music made your heart race. You had never felt so alive, even when you were human. The blood dribbled down from the corners of your mouth to your chest, and all you could think about was getting more.

You weren't sure how long you were on that dance floor, or how many bodies you and Bucky racked up, but you were lost in how good you were feeling, so it didn't matter much to you. Your chin and chest had streaks of blood running down them. Bucky's white shirt was drenched in red, but no one in the room knew or thought something was wrong because you were just like everyone else.

As the music started to pick up, Bucky danced his way to you. He looked at no one else but you as his hands found your hips and moved you to the beat of the music. You kept your chest pressed against his, trying your best to get as close to him as humanly possible.

When he felt your lips on his neck, lapping up every bit of extra blood that you could get, you felt his chest rumble in delight. He loved having you here in his arms, embracing every part of being a vampire that you should enjoy. No one thought you were going to make it as a vampire, but he knew you were just like him - ready to embrace every dark desire that was unlocked the second you came back to life. He knew your friends wouldn't approve, but he didn't care or even think about them at this moment. All he could think about was your lips on his neck, and the excitement coursing through his veins.

Every nerve in your body ignited as he ran his hands up your sides. You sucked in a breath when his hands lingered on the exposed parts longer than anything else. And you didn't resist him when he cupped your cheeks and forced you to look at him.

"Kiss me."

You smiled and slammed your lips against his. His grip moved to the back of your neck, and you fisted the front of his shirt in your hands. It was a greedy kiss. Full of passion, blood smearing over each other's faces. Neither of you wanted to pull away to catch your breath until you absolutely had to, and when you finally did, you rested your foreheads against each other, still trying to stay as close to each other as possible.

"You're trembling," he pointed out with a smile.

"I've never felt this good before!" You confessed. "I want more!"

"We have all night, princess. You'll get your fill, I promise."

---

You woke the next morning to arguing. You could hear several voices trying to talk over each other, and you knew right away that it was Steve, Bucky and Sam. Every now and then, you heard a quiet comment being made by Wanda, and you sighed. Either Bucky told them how your night went, or they already had an idea based on the blood-soaked clothes sitting in the laundry pile.

You quietly slipped out of your bed and made your way to the stairs. You tried your best to stay silent because you wanted to hear what they had to say when you weren't in the room. For the first few weeks of your transition, you could tell they looked at you differently. Now you could finally find out how they truly felt about it.

"She was fine!" Bucky yelled. "She didn't kill a single person last night, and I didn't have to step in and compel anyone for her. She's adjusting a lot quicker than you're giving her credit for!"

"Adjusting to what exactly? Being just like you?" Steve shouted back.

"She doesn't have to be like me, but she is a vampire, Stevie. I know you don't want her to be. I know that the second she embraces who she is, the perfect girl you've been pining for will be ripped from your imagination, but guess what? She is a vampire. You either love her for the new her, or you shut the hell up."

"I have not been pining over her! I just want her to be safe and happy. She never wanted this life, and you know it!"

"Will the two of you knock it off?" Sam snapped. "You're both acting like children."

Bucky laughed humorlessly. "You are so one to talk, Wilson. You've been glaring daggers at me since I walked into the room."

You shook your head and finally made your way down the steps. You hated that they were fighting over you, especially since they were all supposed to be friends, but you couldn't help but feel a little annoyed too. Bucky had a point - you weren't the same person anymore. You couldn't just wake up and pretend like you were still the woman you were before you died. Everything was different now. Everything you felt seemed different somehow.

The arguing stopped once you joined them, and you almost laughed at the terrified look on Steve's face. Almost. He knew right away that you heard everything he and Bucky said, and he couldn't tell how you felt about it based on your expression alone.

"No, no, please, keep talking about me like I'm not in the same house." You walked over to Sam and took the coffee out of his hands. He was surprised by your presence that he didn't fight you when you started to take a sip. "I want to see what else you all have to say. Let me guess, Steve, you were about to tell Bucky that I'm not meant to be a vampire because I'm too sweet. And Sam, you were going to agree with Steve and bring up for the thousandth time that you and Wanda are searching for a cure."

A smug smile flashed across Bucky's face, and he took a step back since he knew he wasn't the one you were upset with. He had no issue watching your wrath from the sidelines.

"I understand that this is not something any of us expected, but you all act like I'm some broken doll that is meant to be fixed. No one has even bothered to ask me how I'm feeling or doing," you said with a frown. "You all just assume based on how you think I should feel."

"Y/n-"

"No, Steve. I'm sorry if you feel that I'm different now because I'm a vampire, but it's not as if I chose to die! Last time I checked that was your fault." He flinched at your words, but he didn't argue because he knew you were right. "And I know Sam and Wanda are powerful, but they shouldn't be delving into dark magic just to change something that can't be reversed. The fact that Bucky has been the only one to accept me for who I am now hurts. Maybe me being a vampire isn't the problem. Maybe it's the three of you."

Wanda tried to say something as you walked out of the room, but you pushed right past her. She was just as guilty as Sam and Steve in your eyes. She treated you differently now that you were a vampire - constantly cancelling plans and trying to avoid you. You knew she hated vampires, but you didn't expect her to ever hate you.

But if none of them wanted to support you then you had to accept that. You had Bucky, and until you found a new group of friends who loved and supported you for who you were now, he was enough.

The thought of cutting them out of your life made your stomach twist, though. They were supposed to be your closest friends. You were supposed to grow old and share memories until you died. Just because part of that couldn't happen anymore didn't mean you had to stop loving each other. At least, that's what you believed.

Bucky said that when you become a vampire, all of your emotions and senses were heightened. You hadn't fully believed him until this very moment - when the sadness started to feel like a crushing weight on your chest. All you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry for a week. Maybe a month.

You slammed the door of your bedroom shut, making sure they could hear it downstairs. You hoped they'd change their minds about you eventually, but you weren't sure if they ever would.

And it broke your heart thinking about it.

---

You waited until the sun went down to finally come out of your room. You were lucky you had a secret stash of blood bags in your mini fridge because you weren't sure you would have made it through the day without them. Feeding on blood bags until the sadness went away wasn't exactly an ideal plan of yours, but they really left you no choice. You didn't want to hear what any of them had to say anymore.

Bucky was sitting on the couch when you walked down. A glass of whiskey was in his hands, and you noticed how he kept his eyes on it the entire time. His brows were furrowed; you had a feeling whatever was on his mind kept him from realizing you were in the room.

"Can I ask you something?" Your voice seemed to startle him, but he quickly composed himself before patting the spot next to him. You were quick to take his offer and sit down. "Do you like me better as a vampire?"

Bucky took a deep breath and shook his head. "Y/n, I liked you either way. I loved you either way. I don't like you better because you're a vampire, but I'm sure as hell not going to act like you were cursed the day you became one. We adjust, we move on."

"You've never told me you loved me before," you replied softly. "Why is that?"

"Because I thought you were in love with Steve. He is the perfect one after all."

"I don't believe that, you know. I think Steve is a good guy, but he's not perfect. He's just gotten too good at hiding all of the bad parts he doesn't want us to see."

"You got that right," Bucky chuckled. He leaned back against the sofa, nervously running his fingers through his hair as he tried to get comfortable.

His feelings for you were always obvious, but neither of you ever acted on them. A part of you was scared that he was going to break your heart and leave you behind to pick up all the pieces. But over the years of knowing him, you realized he was a big softy. He may have hated the world, but he loved you with all of his heart. He didn't need to be with anyone else as long as he had you. Breaking your heart was something he wasn't capable of.

As a human, it was easy to fight your feelings for him. You could lock all of your love for him in a tiny box and shove it in the deepest part of your brain. You could look at him and pretend he never made your heart ache for more than brief glances and warm smiles.

Becoming a vampire made that tiny box feel like a freight train. It opened right up and hit you with the overwhelming feeling of love before you could even catch your breath. Every time you looked at Bucky, you wanted to kiss him and tell him there was no one else you wanted to spend an eternity with. It was almost ridiculous how needy it made you when you were in his presence.

"Bucky?"

He hummed and lifted his head. His eyes grew wide when you straddled his lap, arms instinctively wrapping around your waist. He heard how fast your heart was beating in your chest, and he had a feeling you could hear his beating too. Being this close to each other felt different in the comfort of your home. You weren't riding a blood high or losing yourself to the vibe of a party. It was only the two of you now.

No interruptions. No excuses.

"I love you," you murmured.

Bucky sat up, his lips brushing yours as he tried to close the distance between you. He seemed nervous - terrified that he spoke those three words you would suddenly burst into flames and never see him again. He had lived through quite a bit of heartbreak in his lifetime but losing you would be enough to finally kill him. The thought alone terrified him, but there was no one else he ever wanted to share this moment with. You were it for him.

"I want to," he paused, trying to think of the right word, "Show you something."

You watched silently as he tilted his head to the side, completely exposing his neck to you. Blood-sharing was something you thought Steve made up when he told you about his first time with Peggy. How erotic he made it seemed felt like an exaggeration, but you hadn't even bit into Bucky's neck and you suddenly knew what Steve was talking about. Just the thought alone made you hot in all the right places; you couldn't begin to imagine what feeding from him would actually taste like.

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "I'm positive."

He was too terrified to tell you he loved you, but this was enough for you. He never would have agreed to this if he didn't feel the same as you.

You brushed your lips against the hollow of his throat. The way he sucked in his breath made your stomach flutter with excitement. You enjoyed knowing you could make Bucky weak in the knees. Everyone thought he was the ladies' man; someone who bedded every man and woman he came across. Who would have thought he could easily be brought down by one woman and her love?

Feeding from him felt…euphoric. Every nerve in your body felt like it was on overdrive. Bucky's head rested back against the sofa, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as you continued to drink from him. His hands squeezed your waist; moans fell from his lips. You weren't sure if this act was considered sinful, but it sure wasn't pure. The thoughts running through your head were anything but, and you knew you wanted more from him.

More blood.

More him.

"Fuck," he hissed.

You whined when he ripped you away from him and flipped you onto your back. You tried to sit up and fight him, but his hand squeezed your throat, forcing you to stay on your back as he bared his fangs at you. It was a sight that would have intimidated anyone else but you. To you, it was the sexiest thing he could have done, and you were ready to spread your legs and let him have his way with you. You had absolutely no shame in feeling that way either.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but it's my turn now," he growled.

[nakedmossy]

Alone, Together - Chapter 5 [JJ x Reader]

JJ x Reader

Description: JJ is not the only pogue on the cut who deals with abuse at home. Reader is an only child who lives with her mom and her abusive stepdad, has a strong relationship with JJ because they share the same home life. Reader experiences physical abuse for the first time, which changes her relationship with JJ irrevocably.

Chapter Summary: Shoupe escorts you to the hospital where you are confronted with your step dad and the reality of your moms situation

Disclaimers: Mentions of physical abuse, swearing, alcohol.

Notes: *sorry in advance* this is a bit shit and shorter than usual but I’m LITERALLY trying to work my day job and write at the same time so *d o n t h 8 m e* love y’all 

_________________________________________________________

You blinked rapidly at Shoupe a few times before registering what he had said and felt your breath increase.

“My m-m-mom?” You stuttered, looking at him and squinting. “What about my mom?”

You tried to take a step toward him but you couldn’t move your legs, so you swayed in place until you felt Kie and Sarah standing behind you, their hands on your back and arm respectively.

“What’s going on Shoupe?” Sarah said in her sweet-as-pie but serious voice.

You couldn’t slow your breathing down, you stared at him intently but didn’t see him, momentarily all you could see was the last time you had seen your mom, pushing her away and not hugging her back in the parking lot of the boneyard last night when she and your stepdad had come to take you back home.

“She’s in the hospital, kid. I think you should come with us.”

“What...” you sputtered, feeling your legs shake. “What happened?”

“She was in a car accident. It doesn’t look too good.”

You didn’t think or breath or speak, you simply walked forward and scrambled up onto the edge of the boat, holding onto Shoupe’s hand for help over the side and into their police cruiser. You could barely hear what was going on around you over the ringing in your ears, but you thought you heard John B say they would follow you and meet you there. You hadn’t even registered JJ following you over the edge of the boat or sitting down beside you until he grabbed your hand and held it firmly, both of you sitting side by side in front of Shoupe who was now guiding the boat from the helm, back in the direction of shore.

Your vision had tunnelled and you stared at a spot on the floor of the boat, hearing a buzz of JJ and Shoupe speaking but not registering words. 

You left her. You had left her there every time and ran away. Ran away to the Chateau, ran away to Kie’s house, ran away with JJ, you always left. It never registered until right now that every time you left you were leaving her. In your mind you were always just getting away from him.

You started shaking, from shock and from the cold spray of sea water every time you hit a wave. JJ squeezed your hand tighter and stayed firm beside you.

All you could picture was watching her get out of the passenger side and watching your drunk stepdad get out of the drivers side. It wouldn’t have been the first time he drove under the influence but...why did you let them go? Why did you let her leave with him?

“Why did I leave her” You mumbled, still staring at the floor of the boat, seeing nothing. “I shouldn’t have left her” You half spoke to yourself, half to JJ now, who had leaned his head down to look at you and hear you better. You dragged your eyes up to him now, expressionless and cold. “I left her JJ...I just...left her with him.”

JJ began to shake his head to say something but you looked back at the floor and closed your eyes. It didn’t matter what he said or how he would try to convince you this wasn’t your fault, it was. You left. End of story. You felt JJ’s hand on the good side of your face, begging you to look at him, but you couldn’t. You just sat there, numb, and felt your body rock with the motion of the boat on the waves.

What felt like many hours later you finally arrived at the hospital, the car ride from the docks to the ER entrance had been quiet, only when you pulled up to the doors did Shoupe turn to look behind him and face you, letting you know that your stepdad might be inside. JJ hadn’t let go of your hand the whole time, and squeezed it to the point it hurt when Shoupe had mentioned that.

You walked inside blindly, straight to the check in desk and saying your moms name, following a Nurse down a hallway, followed by Shoupe and JJ close behind you. You froze at the door when you saw your mom’s body limp in the bed, hooked up to multiple machines. Your stepdad was slumped in a chair by the foot of the bed, his back to you.

Your mouth went dry and you couldn’t swallow, your hand absentmindedly went to your rib cage to protect it.

Shoupe cleared his throat, signalling your arrival, causing your stepdad to sit up and look over his shoulder. When he saw you, his expression went from bored to concerned. Fake concern, he was a sociopathic compulsive liar unable to feel compassionate or pain for other people. Your skin crawled at the sight of him.

“Baby girl” he said in his southern Texas drawl, standing up. Not a scratch on him aside from a bandage on his fist. You instinctively backed up into JJ’s chest and jumped when you felt him. He put a hand on your arm and the other on your hip, holding you steady. You couldn’t speak or do anything but stare at him, tears forming in your eyes. Shoupe, noticing your reaction, stepped forward and took a second to lock eyes with JJ, warning him to stay put, before asking your stepdad if he could speak with him in the hall. Your step dad obliged, of course Officer, and walking past you, laying his hand briefly on your shoulder as he did. You flinched and shrugged it off, disgusted.

You felt JJ tense and say “don't touch her” under his breath from behind you. As soon as he was out of the room you moved forward slowly, walking towards the head of your moms bed. She had a bandage across the side of her forehead, but aside from some bruising you couldn’t see anything else.

“Mom” You breathed out, standing next to where her arm rested on the bed. 

She was unresponsive, her eyes closed, a tube in her mouth. You looked over to JJ who was looking down at her as well and felt yourself melting. Your entire world was crumbling around you.

JJ moved to the foot of the bed and pulled the chart out of its holder, scanning over it quickly and flipping the page to read the next side. His eyebrows went up and he put the chart back, running a hand over his face before walking over to stand beside you. You waited for him to speak, still watching your mom, slipping your hand into hers now. 

“Internal bleeding...something about her lung being punctured, and um...” He trailed off and didn’t speak until you looked up at him. “Head injury” He said quietly, shifting his weight to his other foot.

“Like brain damage?” You struggled to get the words out.

JJ lifted his shoulders lightly, shaking his head softly. “It didn’t say, well it didn’t say anything I understood.”

“Car accident” You said quietly, looking back down at your mom. Seeing her like this was too much. She was the kindest woman, however much she liked to drink or smoke or pretend she was rough around the edges. At her core, she was kind. Rage started to bubble up inside of you.

You took a deep breath and took your hand out of hers, turning to face the window to the hallway where you could see Shoupe and your step dad still talking. Before you could register what you were doing you were walking briskly out of the room and through the door, rounding the corner towards your step dad and shouting.

Shoupe turned and immediately put his arm out to block your stepdad, his other hand on his gun belt.

You were screaming mindlessly, about what a piece of shit he was, about how it was his fault your mom was in here, about how much you hated him, and felt yourself collide with Shoupe’s arm when you tried to reach your stepdad, your ribs banging into his arm as he pushed you back, away from your step dad who backed up with his hands up, was he...smiling?

Then you felt a second pair of arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you back from Shoupe, fastening you to his chest. JJ. You struggled against him, blind with rage, tears cascading down your face. You felt JJ’s face against yours, he was speaking as calmly as he could.

“Easy. Calm down, Y/N. You’re okay. It’s okay, calm down.”

You could barely hear him, you were still shouting, kicking, flailing helplessly. You kicked your legs up in the air in an attempt to shake JJ off of you, you wanted to kill your stepdad. Your ribs were in so much pain and your adrenaline was so high that you felt your head start to feel light and your stomach twisting. 

Dizzy, you stopped shouting long enough to catch your breath and felt yourself weakening, collapsing in JJ’s arms. He was still murmuring into your ear to calm down, that he had you, that you were okay, when you looked up and blinked through your tears to see John B, Sarah, Pope and Kie standing down the hall from you. 

Kie had her hands over her mouth stifling her tears, while Pope stood still, staring wide eyed. Sarah was cradling her face with her hands and crying while John B had his hands on top of his head, breathing heavily. 

You broke completely when you saw your friends, your body exhausted and in pain. The cut on your cheek bone must have split open in the commotion because you could feel the blood running down your face, and stinging from the tears. You hiccuped and gasped for breath, still sobbing, JJ holding your back tightly against his chest and hips, his arms completely wrapped around you and his head pressed into your neck and shoulder.

“Leave, LEAVE” You heard Shoupe shouting next to you. You looked over and saw him with his finger in your stepdads face, pointing at the door to the hallway. “Get out of here, Brian”

Your stepdad sucked his cheeks in and made a pouty mouth, winking at you, before turning around and walking out of the hospital. You felt yourself exhale and start to get your breath back as John B and Kie rushed forward, Sarah and Pope close behind.

“Come on” You heard JJ speak to them when they were all near. “Let’s go sit down.”

Many hours later, after speaking with multiple doctors and police officers, you had passed the official business off to Kie and Sarah because you were having trouble concentrating and understanding them. You were seated in the chair in your moms room watching her, thinking about what the head surgeon had said. Official diagnosis had been a fractured rib which had punctured her lung, internal bleeding caused by damage to her kidney and liver, and brain trauma which they were still monitoring and taking scans of, but could not be certain the extent of yet. The pogues were seated in the waiting room, but JJ had stayed by your side and was now sitting on the seat under the window, his head against the wall, sleeping. 

You shifted in your seat and moved to stand up, trying not to make too much noise or wake JJ up. It was dark out, you checked the clock on the wall over the door. 3 am? You had been sitting there longer than you thought. When you walked out into the hallway towards the sitting room, you noticed that the only one not sleeping was Pope. He had his hands pressed together like he was praying, and was staring at the wall. His eyes flitted to you when you moved, and he shot out of his seat to walk to you.

“Hey Pope” You said quietly, standing next to the vending machine and leaning against the wall. The dim light overhead flickered in the dark hallway.

“Hey. How are you doing? Do you need anything? Is your mom awake?” Pope was talking quietly but at a million miles a minute, his eyes flitting around your face anxiously. 

You shook your head and put your hand out to calm him.

“I’m good, Pope. And no, she’s not. I just wanted to see how you guys were.”

“Us? Oh god, no we’re fine” He looked back at the group over his shoulder and looked back at you with an annoyed expression. “I mean apparently none of them have pulled an all nighter in awhile but- I, I’m good”

You smiled painfully at him and chewed on your lip. 

“I’m just gonna use the washroom...ill be right back.” Pope nodded and started to walk after you until you stopped and raised your eyebrows comedically at him.

“I’m just going pee, Pope. I’m good” 

“Right, sorry” He said and walked back a few steps then awkwardly waved and whispered loudly “Ill be right here”, pointing at his feet.

You couldn’t help but let out a giggle and wave back before walking around the corner and towards the bathroom door. As you were about to turn the handle you noticed a light coming from the far end of the hall, a bright red Exit sign illuminating the double doors.

You caught your breath and paused momentarily, looking back around the corner quickly and seeing Pope standing where you had left him, but he was looking longingly at the vending machine and rifling through his pockets for change.

You spun around quickly and started walking briskly down the hall towards the exit sign, knowing exactly what you needed to do, and knowing you needed to do it alone.

You took off for home, where you knew your stepdad would be waiting.

————————————

Tag List: @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch​, @alexa-playafricabytoto​, @timotaychalabae​, @racerparker​, @jj-maybank-stan​, @anahgiedd

[kitkat1003]

Hearth, Home, War, and Politics.  For Kids!

 Chapter 2: Prologue Part 2

It’s time to take back what Salazar stole from them.

That is, if they don’t fall apart on the way there.

AO3 Link

@asilcorner

The room erupts into a frenzy.

“We’re WHAT?” Yakko hears Dot shout. Dr. Scratchansniff is muttering in German, Hello Nurse is shouting, maybe screaming in shock, Wakko has his hands over his ears.

Yakko takes a deep breath.

“HEY!” he stomps his foot on the ground, hard, and his shout makes the room go silent.  He rarely has to get that loud—in fact, he hates doing so, because it freaks out everyone around him.  It had to be done, though.

“You have the resemblance—how did I not see it?” Dr. Scratchansniff puts a hand to his mouth in shock, and then goes pale.  “I operated on the princess—oh no, this is the not good, I...,” he trails off, and Hello Nurse helps him to a chair.

“I don’t see what her status has to do with your quality of care, Doc.  What, you fix up poor people worse than royalty?” Yakko says it more nonchalant than anything else, but his eyes sharpen at the thought.  Would he—?

Dr. Scratchansniff frantically shakes his head, and Yakko shrugs.

“See, no harm no foul,” he turns, to the guard.  

“And, uh, thanks for the heads up, but I don’t know what you expect us to do about that.  Last time I checked, fourteen year-olds can’t overthrow the government,” because he would have loved to kick King Salazar off of his high and mighty throne, but keeping his sibs safe always came first.

“We’re gonna stage a coup, man,” The guard says it in a hushed whisper.  “Most of guards are sick of that guy—and I found the old royal portrait, and now that they know, they want Salazar out of here, man,” Yakko knows why the guard is whispering—if Plotz in the other room hears, if any of Salazar’s supporters hear, they’re done for.

“What do you want us to do about it?” Yakko crosses his arms over his chest.

He sees Wakko kneel down and pick up the dropped coin out of the corner of his eye, and when Wakko goes to grab it Yakko notices his hands are shaking. Yakko knows a lot about his sibs.  Wakko hasn’t been scared enough to be that shaky before.

“We need you to be there, man.  We can do the fighting, but a kingdom needs its rulers, man.”

 Yakko feels a headache coming on.  If he hears man one more time—“Just….stop.” He raises a hand and rubs his temples.  “When is this happening?”

“Within a week” is the reply, and Yakko turns to Dr. Scratchansniff.

“When can Dot be moved out of the hospital?” He needs these pieces to figure out a plan.  God, and here he thought they could have a semblance of normalcy for two seconds.  What a joke.

“Um,” Dr. Scratchansniff seems put off guard by the question, fumbling for an answer.  “I think she should staying overnight, but after that she can go home.”

“Okay,” he takes a deep breath, stands up straight.  The world settles on his shoulders, like it always does, and he deals with its weight like he always does.  For a moment, the whole room can see him in a crown, the crest of the warnestock family emblazoned on his chest.  Maybe it’s less because he was born royalty and more because he’s grown used to caring for his family as if they were his kingdom.  Maybe it’s muscle memory. 

He points to the guard.   “Wherever you need us to go, we’ll leave tomorrow when Dot’s able. Now,” he sighs, trailing off and waving a hand at every adult in the room.  “Can everyone just-just give us some space?”

It takes a few moments for the words to register, but Hello Nurse helps Dr. Scratchansniff up, and leads the guard to the door.

“Let us know if you need anything, sweetheart,” she says, and then they all leave.

Yakko collapses into a chair.

What a mess.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dot is reeling through the entire conversation, as Yakko deals with all the adults that are vying for their attention.  She feels a bit guilty, but she’s once again too tired and weak to do anything herself, and if Yakko’s good at anything, it’s leading a conversation in a desired direction.

But there’s something wriggling in the back of her mind, asYakko talks.  Because she thinks back on the expression Yakko had on his face, when he heard they were royalty.  It wasn’t surprise.  Shock, at the admission, but not surprise.  And he took the news quickly, moved on quicker, took charge of the situation.  She knows that part of it is probably because he felt the compulsion to, the need to.

But also...it makes her think.  Because Yakko, despite their poor social standing, always had them hold their heads high.  He always had them believe they were better than how they were treated, and maybe that was just him wanting them to not think of themselves as nothing, but it could be something else.  Because they’re the Warners, they command the space, they always take charge, pull the town into musical numbers, and being leaders has always felt right.

She watches him slump into the chair, looking exhausted beyond belief, and a part of her just wants to let him sit.  She isn’t cruel, she doesn’t want to see Yakko stressed.

But she’s also ten, and curious, and confused, and Yakko knows more than he’s letting on.  And that part of her, that needs to know, makes her open her mouth and push.

“You didn’t look surprised,” she says, and Yakko looks up.

“What?” Clearly, he’s off his game, because if he was on it he would have a snappy comeback ready the moment the sentence left her mouth.

“About us being royalty.  You didn’t look surprised.” Wakko looks at her in confusion, but Dot doesn’t feel like backing down.

That’s her issue, she knows.  She never backs down from a fight.  Never knows when to let something go.

“I mean, you’re the mouth of this family, but even you ought to have been speechless, right?” She can see Yakko’s eyes narrow, before he shrugs with a nonchalant grin.

“Nah.  I got a quip for everything.” She puffs up her cheeks in frustration at his deflection.

“Yakko,” she growls out.

“What?”

“You knew!” It’s shouted with a vitriol that makes Wakko take a step back from her bedside, confused and worried.

“Knew what?”

“You knew we were royalty!”

Wakko blinks in surprise, Yakko flinches like he was struck, and Dot trembles in her bed.  Her chest hurts.  She shouldn’t be yelling yet, doesn’t have the breath for it.

“And?” Yakko squares his shoulders, like he’s getting ready for a fight, and Dot hates that he feels the need to defend himself from her, but he knew, he knew and he didn’t tell them.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” It comes out more pained than angry, and Yakko deflates at her tone.

“There was no point,” he sounds so defeated.

“No point?  We-we could’ve-we—” she tries to argue, never one to back down, but then Yakko looks up at her with a fire in his eyes that scares her.

“We could have what?  Staged a coup?  Yeah, that would have gone over well.  Let’s us, a six year old, three year old, and two year old go up to the man who killed our parents and ask him to give us the throne back.  Right?  Because Salazar seems so charitable,” The way he’s saying it, she knows this has been on his mind for a long time.  That for—for 8 years—he knew for 8 years, and he could only swallow the injustice as he kept them safe.

What did that do to him?  How much did that hurt?

“Mom and Dad told me to keep you two safe.” He says it  like a mantra,  like the thought has been repeating for years in his head.

And for a moment, Dot hates her parents.  How could they task Yakko with that, how could they place that responsibility on his shoulders, how could they do this to him, make him think that all that mattered was her and Wakko, and not himself?  What kind of parents are they, to teach Yakko to forget that he’s important, too?

“I took care of you—or at least, tried to.” He runs a hand through his fur, mussing up his cowlick. 

His voice sounds so self deprecating that she wants to strangle him.  His whole body is a bit puffed up, she realizes.  He must have been so stressed out it made his fur fluff, to make him bigger, to make him more intimidating. Because she made him feel like he needed to be.

Her and her big mouth.

“It’s okay,” Wakko speaks up.  “I get it.”

“Sorry,” Dot manages, because there are a million things she wants to say, there is a world of fury she wants to unleash, but those things aren’t for Yakko to hear.  She wants to tear the world the pieces, find whatever deity decided to give them the life they have, to give Yakko the life he’s dealt with.  She wants things to be fair. “It’s just—”

“It’s a lot,” Wakko finishes for her, an expression on his face very familiar.  She can recall it from when she would hide a cough, when she would feign being healthy for a day.  That facade in service of stopping concern from taking root in those around you.  His hands are hidden, she notes, and he has this look in his eyes, like when you place your hand in front of the sun and the streaks of light still burst through the spaces between your fingers.

Like he’s covering up something. Did he learn that from Yakko?

When did her brothers start hiding so much from her?

“But hey, we’re gonna go back to the castle, right?  You think they’ll have a royal chef there?” Wakko changes the subject with ease, tongue lolling out of his mouth with a grin, and he definitely got that from Yakko.

Yakko doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he does, too tired to care.  He huffs out a laugh that’s more wet than humorous, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, arms propping his head up.  He wipes his eyes and leans back, against the wall.  

“Last time I remember being there, you sure gave the royal kitchens a run for their money with how much you ate,” Wakko beams at the comment, and Yakko seems to relax, now that he’s not thinking about the logistics of it all.

Dot can play this game, too.

“You think they’ll give me a new dress?”

Yakko opens his mouth, to regale her with another piece of near forgotten trivia, and Dot listens, letting Yakko forget just for a moment everything he’s been through, all the things he’s done.

Banter is always a distraction.  She files away that information, and decides to be the perfect distraction, whenever Yakko needs her to be.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They have dinner, a few hours after the guard leaves.  Yakko tells enough jokes and stories to make Dot cry with laughter, and Wakko’s tail wags so fast it’s practically a blur.  He settles them into bed a few hours after that, opting for the chair because the hospital bed is just a bit too small for three.

He expected Dot to be angry.  She backed down quicker than expected, though.  He hadn’t meant to get so snappy, but he’s exhausted and he doesn’t want to have to explain himself to anyone.  He did what was best for them, always.  Knowing would have just made them despair, mourn the life they didn’t even remember.  Without the comparison, their lives didn’t seem so bad, right?  Why give them that wake up call?

He stretches, yawning, and heads towards the back door.  He needs to collect their things if they’re leaving tomorrow morning, and the quicker he gets it done the sooner he stops worrying about it.

A hand grabbing his own stops him.

He turns, and Wakko is standing there, looking as if he hadn’t slept at all.

“Where are you going?” Wakko looks...there’s something off about his gaze.  Yakko can’t decipher it.  Whatever it is, it isn’t good.  Yakko files that away and aims to figure it out when he has the time.

“Gonna go get all our stuff from the house,” and isn’t that a joke, calling the abandoned orphanage a house.  “Since we’re moving and all that.”

“Can I get it?” Yakko blinks at the question, which is why Wakko seems to stumble over explanations.  “It’s cold—I have my sweater—”

“And no pants.  I got pants and no sweater.  What’s the logic there?” Yakko interrupts.  “Besides, I need you to stay back here and keep an eye on Dot.  Don’t want anything to go wrong while I’m out.”

“I—” There’s a flicker of that something, something that Yakko can recall seeing earlier.  When Wakko came back from his year long work trek, the day before, even.  Fear?  He can see Wakko’s tail curled around his one leg, a sign of anxiety, but he doesn’t understand.  Since when was Wakko nervous about keeping Dot safe?  He always took a shine to that, proud that Yakko would trust him with such a responsibility.  

“Okay,” and just like that, the fear is gone, like someone had taken the crudely drawn etch-a-sketch that is his brother and shaken it to clear the slate.  It’s startling.  When did his brother learn to do that?

Why would he need to?

“I’ll be back quick,” he assures.

Wakko nods, that simple, dumb look on his face that Yakko thinks for a moment is real.  Wakko can be a bit oblivious, and you can see it on his face, but this. This isn’t that.  And it frightens Yakko, more than he can articulate, that he almost thought it was.

He disappears out the door, watching Wakko walk over to Dot’s bedside over his shoulder as the door swings shut.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wakko doesn’t have the time to be upset when he finds out who their parents are.

Everyone starts shouting, and the sounds fade into the crashing noise of tumbling rocks, the world crumbling around him as the ground shakes.  He covers his ears and almost cowers, and he can hear the rock above him, cracking off of the ceiling, and Sir is shouting something, and—

Yakko’s yell snaps him out of it, and he is a tensely coiled spring of something as Yakko talks.  Honestly, he doesn’t hear most of it.  There’s a dull ringing in his ears that blurs the sounds around him into white noise.  The adults leave, and it goes quiet, and for a moment Wakko feels like he can breathe.

And then Dot gets upset.

Wakko doesn’t blame her.  If he had the time, he might be angry too.  They’re not supposed to have secrets, not between each other, but Wakko’s a hypocrite so he doesn’t have anything to say.

He speaks up when Dot fumbles.  Is this how Yakko feels, when he needs to talk his way out of a situation?  It’s terrifying.  You don’t know if what you said is gonna work until a moment after you let the words go, and that one moment is pure adrenaline.

Maybe it gets easier when you’re better at it.  Wakko wouldn’t know.

Scratchy brings them dinner with small cups of his newest recipe of his elixir on the side, a few hours after all the adults clear out.  It makes Dot hiccup, and Wakko lets out a belch that rattles the walls and startles a laugh out of Yakko.  The food is soup, warm broth with potatoes and meat that forces the chill from their limbs, and Wakko can’t help but be grateful.

Scratchy isn’t so bad, for an adult.  But he’s still one.  So there’s that.

And then, in the night when they’re supposed to be sleeping, Yakko leaves.  He has to get their stuff, and he’s going to leave Wakko alone, with Dot, as if Wakko could keep her safe.  Wakko can’t do anything, certainly not keep his sister safe!  He couldn’t even keep himself safe, he got Sir killed, he can’t keep her safe.

But Yakko goes, anyway, and Wakko sits beside her bed and doesn’t let the idea of rest cross his mind.  His eyes dart towards any of the entrances to the room, vigilant.

He’s a prince, he realizes.  The thought is...it comes to him unbidden, and he tries to imagine it.  Him, a prince.  Tasked with helping keep a kingdom safe, its people safe.

He’s already failed, and he didn’t even know it.

He laughs, quietly to himself, and wipes his tears before Yakko’s back to see.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning, Dot is discharged.  She’s practically glowing with joy, jumping out of bed before she stumbles a bit.

“I would not do the jumping, ja?  You need to still be careful.” Dr. Scratchansniff’s hand is gentle against her back, but Yakko pulls her away anyway, keeping her close to him.  Dr. Scratchansniff seems surprised at the action, glancing over at Yakko in confusion, but Yakko narrows his eyes and shrugs, nonchalant.

Wakko is quiet as always, chewing on the lollipop stick that once held a lollipop.  Hello Nurse gave it to him, so now of the two adults here, she’s his favorite.

“Be careful, you three,” Hello Nurse waves them goodbye, and Wakko laughs.

“Never are!” Yakko returns with that trademark grin.

They meet the guard at the edge of town.  He has a caravan, and there’s another guard who’s driving it.  He ushers them inside, hidden from the world.

Yakko has his claws out.  Wakko notices it only because one of Yakko’s gloves is missing a finger, so it’s easy to see.  But Yakko has his claws out, something he’s never seen Yakko do.  Toons don’t like to use their more...animalistic features unless it’s funny or if they’re in grave danger.  Wakko guesses that Yakko is adhering to the latter.

He keeps them out as they sit in the caravan, and as they depart.  Wakko doesn’t think he’s ever seen Yakko so tense before.

“What’s the plan?” Dot asks.

“There are some guys—they support Salazar, man,” the guard explains.  “We got numbers, but still.  So we’re gonna fight them, and you’re gonna show up and kick Salazar out when he’s all alone, man.” What a plan.  Very detailed.

“You do realize he killed our parents, right?” Yakko’s voice is quiet, even dark.  “I don’t think we’re going to be exactly prepared to kick him out ourselves.”

“Dot’s still recovering,” Wakko adds.

“He won because he cheated, man.  Had Dip and everything—” Yakko flinches at the mention of it. “But we got it locked down, man.  He won’t be able to do anything.  It’s performative, man.  You have to take back your kingdom.”

There’s a question on Wakko’s tongue.  He wants to know how exactly his parents died, which is stupid, because the answer will only hurt.  But doesn’t the absence of knowledge hurt too?  He can certainly make a guess.  Everyone knows what Dip is, it was outlawed in all the lands for its torturous properties.

It’s acid for toons.  Strips them down, layer by layer, from color to line to sketch to paper to nothing.

A part of him wants to know for sure.  Wonders if Yakko was there to see.

He glances over at Yakko, and by the expression on his face, likely not.  There’s grim realization, not recognition.  A small mercy, he thinks.  Yakko doesn’t get many of those.

“Well, I think we can handle it,” Dot pipes up.  She’s holding Yakko’s hand, running her fingers over his claws.  Yakko doesn’t so much as twitch a finger, worried of hurting her. 

As if he’d ever.

“I guess we have our vote of confidence there,” Yakko chuckles.  “Wakko?”

Wakko shrugs.

“Why not?” he doesn’t have a lot of strong feelings on the matter.  “What have we got to lose, really?  And it sounds easy.”

Sounds, at least.  Wakko isn’t sure how easy it will really be.

“Guess we’re in, then.” Yakko puts his arm around Wakko’s shoulders and pulls him close.  He still has his claws out.

The rest of the trip is relatively silent.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They arrive at the castle in higher spirits.  Yakko spends the last ten or so minutes of the ride cracking jokes that have Dot giggling up a storm, and even Wakko has to break eventually.  He’s curled in on himself, laughing before they’re shushed as they reach the castle gates.

“Cargo delivery,” The guard driving the caravan says to the gate guard.  Yakko thinks he sees the two share a look, a wink, and then they’re moved on through.  They’re brought around to the back of the castle, into the loading area, and are ushered out into the castle.

“We’re going to the servant’s quarters,” The guard whispers, and Yakko keeps his sibs in front of him.  If they’re gonna be double crossed, they’ll have to go through him, first.

They’re brought into a small room, with a bed and dresser.

“This one is empty.  It’s not being used since Salazar fired a bunch of the servants,” They’re told.

“Fired them?  Why?” Dot asks.

“Were they too flammable?” Wakko pipes up.  Yakko snickers.

“He’s been on a short fuse since the wishing star, man.  One wrong step and you’re toast.”

Yakko snorts at the phrasing.

“You’re making this too easy for us,” he snarks.

The guard blinks, bewildered.  Yakko sighs.

“Soooo, do we just wait here until you guys holler, or...?” Yakko crosses his arms over his chest and looks on expectantly.

“Yeah-uh-I’ll come get you,” the guard fumbles over his words and plans, and Yakko raises a brow.

“Alright.” He shrugs, and leads his sibs to the bed.  “It’s nap time, then.”

After the guard leaves, they settle on the bed.  Dot is out quick, snoring softly as she leans against him, and Yakko supposes the trip must have taken more out of her than she let on.  She is still recovering from surgery, she’ll probably be tired for the rest of the week.  He makes a note not to throw her into many extravagant activities if he can, at least until she’s recovered her strength.

Wakko...well, it sounds like he’s asleep, but he isn’t doing the thing where his legs kick and twitch, and his arms barely move.  Every part of him is tense and still, even as he snores, and Yakko can’t imagine why Wakko would fake sleeping.  Wakko likes sleeping.  Who doesn’t?

He wants to stay up until he feels Wakko actually rest, but he’s more tired than he wants to admit, and his eyes slide shut without him meaning them to, worried thoughts carrying him off to a fitful rest.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wakko knows he should sleep. He's exhausted. It's a feeling deep down into his bones, this tiredness, because it’s more than just being tired, of staying up too late, of working too hard all in one day.

He hasn’t been sleeping well enough even when he does, and there’s a constant thrum of anxiety that sits in his chest, makes his heart stutter with every unexpected event, and as time goes on unexpected events become the expected.  He’s so exhausted by being awake, but his dreams don’t leave him feeling rested either, so he just can’t win.

At the very least, Yakko has put away his claws, fallen asleep.  He and Dot are safe and resting, and Wakko can be their guard.  Dot’s been sick for so long, and Yakko’s been protecting them since forever, so Wakko can pick up the slack.  He always has, regardless of what he wanted or needed.  He just needs a good meal and smiles on the faces of his siblings, not in that order.  

Wakko watches the stars, and hums a tune under his breath.

“Wishing star, so bright and true, our world has changed since meeting you,” he whispers with just enough melody to be called a song.  “So many things are happening.  Don’t know what it all is so I just sing,” he sits up, gentle enough that he doesn’t jostle Yakko awake.

“Is this all really my dream?  We’re back home but what does that mean?” he fidgets with the sleeves of his sweater, starting up another verse.

“Wishing star, so bright and clear, was it a mistake to come back here?  In a world we’ve never known, told it’s time to take our throne,” he’s a prince, he’s in charge, and yet.

“Wishing star, can I believe?  This is where I deserve to be...” He trails off, light of the moon shining against his face, casting his shadow on his siblings and the bed behind him.

Time moves slow, and he just stares at the countryside, waiting.

There’s a crash from above, and he jumps, tumbling off of the bed.  Yakko shoots up as if he were spring-loaded, and he frantically looks around for Wakko, pawing around the bed for him until Wakko pops back up from the floor.

Dot is up a moment later, rubbing her eyes and clinging to Yakko as if he’s her teddy bear.

There’s a knock on the door, and Yakko motions for Wakko to get behind him.

Wakko doesn’t move.

The ever familiar guard—they really ought to learn his name at some point—pops his head in, looking haggard and sweaty.  Wakko doesn’t miss the smear of blood on his sword.

“C’mon,” There’s no time for ‘man’ apparently, as he motions them to the door, and Yakko’s claws are out again.

Wakko lets out his own, so he can be just as formidable.

They disappear into the night.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The flickering of the torches in the hallway add to the eerie atmosphere, and not one of the 3 children trust that they’re being brought to anywhere besides a trap.  Wakko’s mallet is out, and Dot has her mace, strong enough to lift it so it doesn’t scrape against the floor.  All Yakko has are his words and his claws, and he keeps himself in front of his siblings as a shield.  

They pass by a body that doesn’t move, or breathe.  They don’t know whose side the soldier was on.

“We have the throne room surrounded, man,” the guard whispers, and his breaths are harried.  His hands are shaking, and they would be worried for him if they had the energy or time to worry about anything else besides each other.

They can’t waste their time on other people, emotionally or physically, not when everyone else is out to get them.  That doesn’t mean they want everyone to be in pain, to suffer, on the contrary.  They just aren’t going to make an effort to help everyone else when they can barely help themselves.  They still try, and Wakko’s desire to use his money to help the town as much as to help themselves is proof of that, but they have to stay distant, because people leave.  People backstab.  People lie.  

People kill.

“Well, sibs,” Yakko breathes as they head to the throne room back door, “Ready to take back our throne?”

Dot’s grin is feral, her fur sharp enough to cut as it fluffs up, and Wakko’s hat has never looked more intimidating as it lengthens his shadow.

“We were born ready,” Dot says, and they head in.

Salazar is on his throne, seemingly unaware of the assault upon his guards, though he does take note of the sound of the door opening and closing behind him.

“Finally, a servant competent to check on me.  Being a King is not easy work,” his condescending complaint grates their ears.

“Oh Salzy~!” They cheer, and Salazar jumps out of the throne—it’s not his, it’s theirs, doesn’t matter if they don’t feel like it is yet because they’ve staked a claim and they will fight for it—turning on the dime and backing away from their voices.

“Sally?” Yakko hops onto the throne, hand under his chin, his brow raised as if in a silent question.

“Sandra?” Dot pops up on Salazar’s side, and the monarch yelps, stumbling back.

He trips over Wakko’s leg.

“Salisbury?” Wakko adds, and at the thought of it starts to drool.  “...Steak...”

“Salacious?” Yakko tries.

“Salamander?” Dot pipes up, her and Wakko closing in, weapons raised.  Salazar crab walks backwards until his back hits the wall.

“Sacrilegious?” Wakko taps Salazar’s foot with his mallet, as if testing his aim.

“That outfit, maybe,” Dot sneers.  “Whoever your royal tailor is, fire them.”

“Hey, don’t put someone out of a job like that.  Besides, if Saltine’s taste is anything to go by, it’s probably his fault,” Yakko sprawls out on the throne, as if he was born to sit there.

Well, he was.  Funny how that works.

“It’s Salazar you-y-you miscreants!” Finally, Salazar finds his voice, and the three turn away from their conversation with each other to stare at him with gazes that shut him up quick.

“Honestly, Salarts, your name is the least important thing here,” Dot puts her hands on her hips.

“I think being deposed is probably more important, Saltana,” Wakko shrugs.

“Deposed?!” Salazar all but shrieks.  Yakko snickers.

“Surprise!” He throws his hands out and grins.  “Thanks for keeping the seat warm, Seesaw, but we’re taking it back.  It is ours, after all,” Salazar pales at the reminder.

“What, did you think you could get away with it forever?” Dot rolls her eyes.  “Men.”

“Your men are zilch,” Wakko sets his mallet on his shoulder, grinning with his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth.  “We made a few friends.”

“Turns out robbing a country blind doesn’t make you popular,” Yakko shrugs, as if it was a shock to him, too.  “So, sorry not sorry, you’re arrested.  Guards!”

On their cue, guards come out and surround Salazar, two grabbing him by the arms and forcing him to his feet.

“Traitors!  I’ll have you beheaded!” Salazar kicks his feet and struggles.

Yakko looks on, bored, and Dot swings her mace up to hit where the sun don’t shine.  Salazar lets out a whine that makes everyone else in the room wince, and goes still, knees scrunched up to his chest in pain.

“That’s for Yakko,” she tells him, because she knows she should be angrier about her parents, about the ones she never got to know, but she only has the one, now, and Salazar is the reason why Yakko never got to go to school, why Yakko worries about if they will be able to eat that day instead of if he’ll get in trouble for his room not being clean.

Wakko hops up and slams his mallet down on Salazar’s head.  Salazar sees nothing but stars and says nothing that can be deciphered as language.

“Mom and Dad,” he says, simply, and then whispers another name she doesn’t catch.

“What should we do with him, your majesty?” One of the guards asks, eyes trained on Yakko.

It takes Yakko a minute to realize that they’re talking to him, of all people.  He blinks, sits up.  Your majesty, huh.

“To the dungeons, I guess.  Do we have dungeons?” he looks over at Wakko and Dot, as if they would know.  They both shrug.

“We have dungeons, sir,” another guard replies.  Yakko nods, not really decisive, more just as an acknowledgement.

“Cool.  Take him there, then.”

Salazar vanishes out the door, and Wakko and Dot scamper towards their eldest.  They hop onto the armrests of the throne that seems too big for just one of them to sit in.

“We won,” Dot whispers, like saying it louder will break the illusion.

“That was easy,” Wakko nods to her statement, and Yakko laughs, but it sounds more exhausted than happy.

They sit like that, silent for a moment.  The guards stare at them as if they aren’t sure what to think of them.  And the Warners, they’re used to that.  Being unknowns, being oddballs.

And yet they’re also being looked at as if they have power.  Wisdom.  Leadership skills?  There’s so much that is expected of them now.  Where do they even begin?

“What now?” Dot asks, and, like usual, Yakko finds himself being looked to for answers he doesn’t have.  They’re royals now.  Monarchs.  In charge.

“Guess we get fitted for our crowns,” he replies, and they wait for the changes to come.