#like i don’t need sympathy but just like idk some understanding

[neverbeforeandneversince]

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[chaoticbardlady99]

Nobody's Fool (Astarion x GN! Reader) Part 1

Synopsis: You approach Astarion at the Tiefling party and get rejected. Everyone else and Astarion knows he made a mistake, but you certainly don't.

Author Note: I LOVE Shadowheart- okay. Love her, but she is also my favorite hot girl rival in my fiction. No idea why. I just also love the idea of her being best friends with a Selunite by the end of her journey (or ship her hardcore with an Oathbreaker Paladin)

CW: Sad boi rejection hours, mentions of sex, mentions of Dead Dove.

Based off of a post by @golden-baby

(I also listened to Avril Lavigne’s Nobody’s Fool while writing this and it’s very good if you haven’t heard it)

(IDK Who this gif belongs too, but it is not mine)

You have always been the first person to throw yourself into a situation and help others- it was what had drawn you to being a Cleric of Selune in the first place. 

 You miss being a young cleric studying the life domain under the stars and the bright moon. You miss not feeling so terrified. 

 All this tadpole has brought you is anxiety and fear, you have a feeling it will be okay. You are here for a reason and you trust that Selune needs you to trust her. 

 Meeting Shadowheart had certainly confirmed that- she obviously was plummeting down the wrong path, but she has also flipped this thinking on you a few times. Only, you cannot understand following a Goddess as cruel as Shar. She has obviously brought serious damage to Shadowheart’s life and you are determined to support her- whether she gets away from Shar’s doctrine now or fifty years from now, you will be here to help her when the time comes.

 In spite of your differences, you actually go to the same spot and pray together- farther away from each other, but the sentiment is still there. Occasionally you drink together after a particularly weird or bad day. You find you both can talk about your religious beliefs and you are open to hers which in turn has begun to show her how to be open to your religious doctrine. It’s nice to have someone to talk about the bigger powers at play- even if that person opposes your Goddess so viciously. You don’t really care- you know followers of Shar are hurt people hurting people. They need love just as much as the next person. 

 Lae’zel has been a tougher nut to crack, but you have provided sympathy where you can and support her. You promised her that you would all head to the mountains and search for the Creché. If the cure is there- she will get it. That has made Lae’zel feel better a few times.

 Karlach just wants a good life and to talk about the joys of Life, Gale wants someone to talk to about magic and help finding magic items, and Wyll just wants to feel accepted and like he is still the mighty Blade of Frontiers.

 Then there is Astarion.

 You have been head over heels for the man since he knocked you to the ground and questioned you. You could probably stare at him forever if it wasn’t so Gods damn creepy. 

 You practically bend over backwards to help him- far more than you do for others, anyhow. He seems to like you and you have definitely thought about asking him to go on a date with you at some point. 

 But then you think about how not romantic having a tadpole in your head is and nix the idea. 

  You listen to him whenever he speaks to you, any books you find usually end up going to him. Gale is still pretty upset about the Necromancy of Thay. 

 Any new short swords, daggers, arrows, bows, crossbows, armor, potions, etc- you name it, you probably already gave it to him. You often think you may be far too obvious with your affections, but it’s the only thing you know kind of appeases him.

 Every decision you make he despises and makes a point of mocking you for. Karlach is often telling him to knock it off, but that usually just makes it worse so you just laugh it off even though it hurts. You just remind yourself that he lived as a slave for the last 200 years and you are the first to admit that your Goddess failed to save him. You don’t know why, but it is what it is. Maybe one day he will see that not all people are his ruthless master. 

You also let him drink from you every three or so days. If he is injured in battle- you are first to offer him another drink. 

 Astarion calls you, “Darling '' from time to time and you thought that might be something, but you also heard him call Karlach and Shadowheart that too. 

 You feel so conflicted when you go to bed- he seeks out Shadowheart and never you at bedtime. He spends all night talking to her about Gods only knows what. You are certain some of it is mocking you, but you try to remain optimistic. He wouldn’t do that- you have been nothing but kind to him. What could he even say?

 Tonight is the first night that he is by himself and not talking to Shadowheart. You can do it- just go up and ask him if he would like to take a walk with you. No big deal. 

 “Hi Astarion,” you say softly, “are you having fun?”

“No- no thanks to you, by the way.”

 Your smile falters slightly, but you rebound. 

“I’m sorry- I wasn’t trying to ruin your night.”

 Astarion rolls his eyes and flashes a smile that makes your breath catch. 

 “I suppose it couldn’t be helped, Darling,” he says with a dismissive wave, “you and all your do gooder nonsense was bound to get us here eventually.”

 You smile brightly- happy with the positive step forward. 

“How rude of me- I forgot to ask- how can I help you this evening?” 

  This is the big moment- you can do it! 

“I was-“ you clear your throat, take a deep breath and avoid his eyes, “I was wondering if you would want to go on a walk with me on the beach later?” 

 Astarion blinks a few times and you think you see the hint of a smile- it makes you feel slightly optimistic. 

 Until it turns into a snort and a laugh he can’t hold back.

“You are so naive,” your heart drops, “whatever gave you the impression that I would want to ‘go on a walk’ with you?” 

 You frown, a lump in your throat is beginning to form and you feel so embarrassed that you wouldn’t even know where to begin to explain yourself.

“I- you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“I am glad we could clear that up.”

“Me too,” you say with a forced smile, “good night.”

“You don’t have to-“

 You walk away- all the horror and heartbreak simply being far far too much to bear. How could you be so positively stupid? 

 Your mother always chastised you for this kind of thing- you give and give and give, hoping it will make people love you, but it never works. They will take everything from you and then some because they can. 

 You sit on an alcove overlooking the camp- far enough away that you hopefully won’t be spotted by anyone. You wish you hadn’t- you just barely catch a glimpse of Astarion dragging the all alluring and elusive Shadowheart away into the forest. 

 You are diminished to tears- your heart feels like it has splinters all over it and your stomach feels like it may twist before collapsing in on itself. 

 You are about to give up and leave, but the sound of approaching footsteps catches your attention. 

“It’s just me,” Wyll says with his hands up, a friendly smile on his face, “you seemed like you may need a friend.”

 You laugh and wipe your tears away, “and here I thought I was hiding it so well.”

 “You do, my friend,” Wyll says before putting a hand on your shoulder, “what troubles you?” 

 “You are going to think I’m stupid.”

 Wyll laughs lightheartedly, “I have seen and done my fair share of ‘stupid’.” 

 You inhale deeply and tell Wyll your story- from start to finish. You are a crying mess by the end of it- so much so that Wyll actually maneuvered you and began cradling you in his arms. 

 His heartbeat helps steady you- the connection to nature and the ground is helpful. It makes it all feel a bit better- you suppose.

 You eventually sit back down next to Wyll- your face is blotchy and red, tear stained and puffy. 

“I have noticed that you give Astarion all of you,” Wyll says with a frown, “spirit, body, heart, and mind.

“Maybe it is time to stop- set some boundaries for yourself. I am sorry that you did not get the answer you wanted, but at least now you know and that is a blessing. You can now look for someone who truly wants you and gives equally as much as they take.” 

 You nod. You had hoped to hear more of a, “he will come around” message, but you know this is the better, healthier message. You despise it, but it’s true.

 You and Wyll spend time talking about other things. You tell him how you hope to open your own clinic one day and help people who cannot afford it. Wyll tells you about the Sword Coast, his failings, and his own trauma. 

 He teaches you different constellations, the different flora in the area, and what the fishing season was like when the town was functioning and Wakeen’s rest was up and running. It sounds like it was a beautiful place to live before all of this nonsense erupted.

 It’s fun and Wyll makes you feel seen and appreciated. He still isn’t Astarion, but you know it will take some time before you can look at someone else and that’s okay.

 Wyll walks you back to camp and you don’t bother to look over at Astarion’s tent nor do you go that way like you usually would. You noticed he was back and so was Shadowheart. Both of their clothes were ruffled- it’s been at least two hours so you can only imagine.

  “Good night, Tav,” Wyll kisses you on the back of the hand before engulfing you in a large hug that you gladly accept, “sleep well- tomorrow will be better.”

 You go to your bedroll and begin to open your healing magics book when a knock on your tent post gets your attention. Maybe it’s Wyll. He did say he enjoyed talking to you, maybe he wants to spend the night? That doesn’t seem overly realistic though- he is a perfect gentleman.

“Come in,” you say, still not looking up, “what’s up?” 

“I was hoping I may be able to get a small snack?”

 Oh. It’s Astarion.

 You just fed him earlier today before the party. Usually you would say yes, but Wyll is right- you can’t keep giving him everything and leaving nothing for yourself. 

“I- I am really sorry,” he frowns and his ears even droop, “I am just really tired and I don’t-“

“No worries, Tav.” He says with a forced smile on his face, “have a good evening.”

  You are shaking after he leaves the tent. You cannot believe you just did that. You set a whole boundary. 

 No he did not call you by a pet name nor did he flirt with you. Yes he frowned and it made your heart hurt, but you need to start putting yourself first. 

  You still cry yourself to sleep and you wake up early enough to wash your face with cold water- any evidence of your heartbreak is completely gone. 

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

 You have managed to really avoid Astarion for the last four, almost five days. You let him feed because you don’t want him to starve to death, but you found out that casting “calm” on yourself beforehand keeps your adrenaline from kicking up so you no longer react to him.

 You cry afterwards, obviously, but he doesn’t need to know that. He is right- he never did anything to make you believe he liked you and it was very naive of you to assume he did. However, you do commend yourself for your courage to try and you even walked away with your dignity. 

 At the end of the day, you are proud of yourself and you love yourself more than anything. You will continue your mission and continue to help people because you enjoy helping people. Right now, this group of weirdos needs you and you need you so that you all make it out of this nonsense alive.

 That is more than enough to keep someone busy.

 First there was a Hag to fight, then you unfortunately had to kill a monster hunter (you didn’t talk to Astarion about it afterwards, that is Shadowheart’s job), and fought a bunch of spiders off- which also brought up the Necromancy of Thay argument again. That was exhausting. 

 Astarion opened the door on a Bugbear and Ogre bumping uglies, you also had to really put your foot down so that he wouldn’t send a dark Gnome flying. He was quite frustrated with you, but he understood your reasoning enough to not do it. 

 Then there were the Gnolls and Astarion had opened the chest which caused the Zhentarim guild to attack and try to make you all explode. Thankfully you were able to save that weird artist, but no one from the guild survived. 10/10 supplies though. 

 There are things to be done and places to see. Exploring the Underdark first made the most sense. It upset Lae’zel, but she said she trusts your judgment which warms your heart. 

 It is certainly not a quick or easy journey to get to the entrance inside the abandoned temple of your Goddess. You can hear Shadowheart saying snarky things- Astarion snorts here and there, but doesn’t actually chime in for once. 

 At least you get some relief from that for a day. You wrap your hand around your Moondrop pendant and you already feel the love of Selune flow through you. You kept the statue as well and you keep it next to you- last night you actually slept with it in your hand. 

 You had grown up exceptionally poor and your parents died from some disease in the mines where you were all imprisoned. The mine was eventually raided by Selune clerics and paladins- you immediately knew that is what you wanted to be. Selune had saved you right before you were being shipped to another location and you lived with her clergy ever since.

 You were grateful you had a potion of flying as well as the support of the others to keep the moonstone. Even Astarion expressed his approval when Shadowheart became upset. You waited until it killed the Minotaur, of course. The splash of blood that hit the group wasn’t necessarily welcome, but oh well.

  And at least you don’t have a ridiculous name.

 You snicker to yourself as you walk- earning an odd look from Gale who is covered in Minotaur blood. You urge him to keep talking about whatever book he finished last night and he gladly dives back into the subject. 

 Finding a decent spot to camp was actually pretty easy. The camp is beautiful and your tent is set up next to Karlach’s. She convinces you to make a massive tent fort and Fort Tavlach is born. 

 You pass a bottle of wine back and forth as you talk. Karlach is letting you hug Clive as you talk about the tiefling party and the aftermath of everything.

“Is that why those two are sitting next to each other so miserably?” 

You cock your head to the side, “what do you mean?”

“What I mean is they look miserable and haven’t stopped fighting for the last three days,” Karlach states with a raised eyebrow, “have you really not been paying attention?”

 You shake your head. Karlach gapes at you, chugging a bit of the wine before passing it back.

“Well- I have been waiting to tell you all day, but Shadowheart finally told me what they were fighting about.”

 “Oh, Karlach, I really should-“

“Two nights ago, they tried to be intimate again and he said your name during the act itself.”

 You simultaneously choke on and spit out your wine- some of it comes out of your nose. You can’t stop coughing and Karlach is dying laughing- she is crying she is laughing so hard. You are crossing your arms and uncrossing them in front of your face- a look of bewilderment as you process what just happened.

“mE!?”

 This just makes Karlach laugh even harder, she goes running straight for behind a rock- screaming that she is going to pee herself.

 The entire camp is looking over in curiosity and you just wave awkwardly. You catch Astarion’s gaze from the corner of your eye and he looks sad- maybe even a little angry.

 He storms off to his tent and Shadowheart rolls her eyes, glaring at you before going off to her own tent. 

 Karlach eventually comes back and you both continue your drunken gossip.

“That- that can’t possibly be true,” you say, “I asked him on a date and he told me I was naive to think he would ever want to be with me that way.”

“What!?” Karlach looks like she may light the entire camp on fire, “why didn’t you say something! We could have-“

“No,” you chastise, “he is right. It was naive of me to assume- my hurt is no one else’s fault. I also chose to give him everything I had. 

“He doesn’t owe me, I wanted to do those things,” you affirm, Karlach is smiling softly, “I still adore him, of course, but this is for the best, you know? Wyll says it means I can set my sights elsewhere now that I know Astarion isn’t into me.” 

“That is very big of you, Soldier, look at you in your big kid pants.”

You roll your eyes and give her a playful shove.

“He has been hurt and used enough for a dozen lifetimes- I don’t want to contribute to that hurt.” 

“You are a good person, Soldier,” Karlach hands you the bottle of wine, “you know- Halsin would be an amazing lover. I am sure of it.”

 “You think?”

“Oh ho- let me tell you what I think, Soldier-“

 Karlach goes into her wild theories and you try so hard to listen intently, but your drunken mind is stuck on Astarion and wondering if he is okay.

[phefics]

An idea: poly!ghostface- the boys are out about to go after a victim when they find they’re missing something/something broken (the phone isn’t working or their voice changer doesn’t have batteries whatever you want is totally cool!)

They realize- afab!reader the needy little whore did it on purpose so they’d have to come home to her and give her attention like they don’t give her attention 99% of the time.

Which of course they do and they are very very grumpy angy bois. All like “oh you missed us you wanted our attention you know you’d get it when we came home but you had to ruin our game and now we gotta take our energy and anger out somehow”

Followed by some smutty degradation, spanking/punishment, good ole fashion filth lol

Side note i think you have one of the easiest to understand request rules idk some people just make them complicated but yours is great!

needy little whore

ship: billy loomis x fem!reader x stu macher summary: exactly what the ask above says!! :) warnings: degradtion, spanking, a bit of knifeplay, rough/unprotected sex, face-fucking word count: 1.3k

You knew that you were asking for trouble, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

It wasn’t that Billy and Stu weren’t giving you enough attention. In fact, to the average person, they would be considered abnormally clingy. It didn’t bother you, though, because you were the same way.

You would have survived one night without them, but you were feeling mischievous that night. You wanted to piss them off so that they’d take it out on you, because angry sex with Billy and Stu was a whole new level of adrenaline.

So, you stole the batteries out of their voice changer, and then hid all the other batteries in the house. You weren’t stupid: You knew the reason they wouldn’t be hanging at Stu’s tonight, and you didn’t mind that as much as you minded their attention being elsewhere.

Since Stu’s family was rarely home, you would often hang out there even when Stu wasn’t around. He didn’t care, and had even given you a spare key.

You watched the two boys head out the door, black backpacks surely stuffed with everything they’d need to carry out a brutal crime.

You popped in a VHS of Nightmare on Elm Street, then made yourself comfortable on the couch, wearing the most revealing pajamas you had. You had seen the way the boys looked at you before they left, and smirked to yourself.

You only made it about twenty minutes into the movie before you heard a car pull into the driveway outside. Anticipation built inside you, but you stayed put, looking innocent as ever as Billy and Stu burst through the front door, both looking absolutely pissed.

“What did you do?” Billy demanded.

You looked up at him with your sweetest expression. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play stupid, Y/N,” Stu said. “You’re fuckin’ lucky we tested the thing first.”

“You trying to get us caught?” Billy asked, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up from the couch. “You know we can’t fuck you if we’re in jail, right? Is that what you want?”

You shook your head. “No, of course not—”

“Ruining our game just cause you wanna get fucked, huh?” Stu said, closing in behind you. You were trapped between them now, Billy still holding your wrist as Stu pressed himself against your ass; he was already hard, and you bit back a moan at the realization.

“I just—”

“Couldn’t wait til we got home?” Billy smirked, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You would have gotten what you wanted later, but the needy whole just couldn’t wait.”

Stu gripped your hips from behind, breathing against your ear. “Well, we gotta get our energy out somehow. But now it’s all gonna be focused on you, baby. We’re gonna fuckin’ destroy you.”

You whimpered as they manhandled you back onto the couch, the film still playing in the background.

“Look at these slutty clothes,” Billy practically purred. “Barely covering anything…”

Stu pulled a knife from the bag he’d been carrying, the blade glinting in the light. “Bet you won’t mind if we take ‘em off,” he said, using the sharp blade to cut the strap of your top, then doing the same to the other side.

You opened your mouth to protest, but Billy stroked your hair and whispered, “We’ll buy you somethin’ even prettier, m’kay?”

Before you could offer a response, he shoved his fingers into your mouth, and you sucked on them reflexively, making him chuckle.

“Such a fucking slut,” he said.

Stu pulled the remnants of your tattered clothes off, leaving you naked as Billy pulled his hand back, admiring the strings of spit on his fingers before licking it off. He and Stu were completely fucking depraved, and it turned you on more than you could handle.

You were quickly pushed onto all fours on the couch, and you could barely contain your excitement at the idea of them fucking you. But that was wishful thinking. Instead, a hand came down on your ass with a hard slap! making you yelp.

You turned your head to see that it was Stu who had hit you, and you pouted at him.

“Oh, don’t give me that pathetic face,” he said. “You thought we were just gonna give you what you wanted after that? Not a chance, baby. We gotta punish you first.”

He laughed as you whined in response, clearly enjoying your frustration.

They took turns spanking you, slapping your ass without mercy.

“Count them,” Billy had ordered.

Each number left your mouth between pained groans and squeaks, stuttering over nine and eleven and thirteen, but when they hit twenty, they stopped, apparently satisfied with your teary face and marked-up ass.

“Think we should give the whore what she wants?” Stu asked.

Billy hummed, considering it. “I doubt she learned her lesson, but I wanna fuck her too bad to care right now.”

“Agreed,” Stu said, and you stayed on your knees as the two of them stripped out of their clothes hurriedly, bickering about who was going to take what place.

“You always get to fuck her, let me—”

“Her mouth is just as good—”

“Do I get a say in this?” you asked.

“No,” the boys replied, grinning at their synchronized speech.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched them play a rigorous game of rock-paper-scissors for who got to fuck you, and your laugh only grew when Stu won, and Billy flipped him off.

Some nights they would take turns, but after the spanking that they’d given you, they were gracious enough to not push your limits too far.

You were already wet, but Stu took some time playing with your pussy, fingers fumbling through your folds to rub at your clit, and you bucked your hips uselessly, moaning at his touch.

Billy walked to the other end of the couch, grabbing you by your hair and smirking down at you. “You gonna let me fuck your throat, slut?” he asked.

You nodded, opening your mouth for him without needing to be asked. He chuckled at your obedience, and wasted no time in pushing his cock between your lips.

As he did so, Stu was lining himself up with your entrance, his grip impossibly tight on your hips and he entered you, slow at first, before immediately picking up the pace, snapping his hips rhythmically. Every time he thrust forward, it made Billy’s dick go further into your mouth, and the sounds of their moaning filled your ears as they used you like the needy whore you were.

Your eyes teared as you focused on breathing through your nose amidst the pleasure of Stu’s cock inside you. Before you met them, you could never cum from penetration, but both Billy and Stu had a way of fucking you so good, rough just like you wanted, that it had become more common for you to orgasm from it.

“So fuckin’ hot,” Billy murmured, almost to himself. “Perfect fuckin’ mouth.”

“Such a slut,” Stu added. “Taking us both at once. Gettin’ off on it, too.”

You whined at their words, floating from the mixture of praise and degradation.

Stu came first, and Billy followed shortly after, and the three of you collapsed onto the couch together, sweaty and tired.

Stu leaned over to you and kissed you, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You had a suspicion it was partly so that he could taste Billy’s cum, but you kissed him back anyway.

“Get a room,” Billy joked, making Stu giggle.

Nightmare on Elm Street was almost over, and you were sticky and exhausted.

“You wanna get cleaned up, baby?” Stu asked.

You nodded, and before you could say anything, he was carefully leading you to the bathroom, his arms supporting the majority of your weight.

Billy went upstairs to grab you some clothes to borrow—a pair of his pajama pants, and one of Stu’s t-shirts. It was all too big on you, but it was comfortable and smelt like them.

You fell asleep to the sound of Billy and Stu planning another night to carry out the plan that you’d ruined. Maybe next time you’d take the burner phones off their chargers.

[strawb3rrystar]

Executrix.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x GN! Reader

Warnings: Dry humping, They both cum in their uniforms, Switch! Draco & Reader Maybe some wrong information about Death Eaters? Idk I tried

Word count: 1,430

✰Masterlist

You knew today would be a good day when your boyfriend invited you to his dorm after classes. Though everyone seemed to hate Draco, he was never as much of an asshole to you as everyone else. In your head he was the perfect partner. Defending you if someone dare talk shit about you, helping you in potions, studying together.

Well, you thought he was perfect. But then you walked into his dorm, and saw him with his sleeves rolled up. Which would be hot, if you hadn't seen that on his arm. Something that people only talk about, but never see in their entire lives.

Once he notices you standing there, he then realizes what you saw. His Death Eater mark. He also noticed the way you backed ever so slightly away from him. A look of panic crosses his face.

"Do not tell anyone. You got that..?"

You nod your head in response. Draco takes in a breath, sitting down at his desk. After rolling down his sleeve he gestures you over and you comply.

"You know, I don’t understand how people could not like you. From what I have seen you are very clever. I have seen you do so many spells the first time you did them. It’s impressive. You have never failed a class, you aren’t a bully, not mean…"

Draco has a look of pain on his face. Why the hell is he telling you this? He can’t help himself, that's why, he loves you too much. He can't lose you.

"Okay.. is that all supposed to add up to something?"

He groans in annoyance. Draco looks at you, his eyes full of pain, shame and..fear?

"I’m trying to be nice! You should appreciate these compliments. But, you're right….I just..need you to do me a favor. Don’t say anything about my…my.."

Draco’s breath hitches. He looks at you with sad, but pleading eyes. You tilt your head slightly, raising your eyebrow a little.

"Death Eater mark?"

“Yes. That. Just pretend you never saw it, okay?”

Draco’s voice is almost a whisper at this point, he quickly looks to the side, avoiding eye contact completely.

"You have my word. But, can you tell me about it? I've never seen one before."

Draco looks into your eyes for a long while. You’ve never seen him this vulnerable before. He takes a deep breath and rolls his sleeve up, showing the death eater mark once again.

"It’s a symbol for the Dark Lord and it marks everyone who is apart of the Death Eaters. The mark links us all together."

You look on, fascinated by the concept.

"You're all linked together? Wow."

Draco rolls his sleeve back down, hiding the mark once again.

"Unfortunately yes. It makes it easy to call on any Death Eater at a moments notice. The mark is also a symbol of his ownership of us all.."

You look at him with sympathy following his response. Draco’s eyes widened in disbelief. Why did he feel better that you were showing him sympathy? His face held a level of pain, fear and…trust?

"That's terrible. No one should have to go through that."

At hearing that Draco’s eye’s flicker with shock and..hope. His face is now one of complete vulnerabilities. You’ve never seen it before, but it looks like he is about to cry. You immediately wrap your arms around him, squeezing him tight. And Draco’s eyes widened as you wrap your arms around him. No one had comforted him, ever. He slowly wrapped his arms back around you, pulling you closer to him.

"I…I don’t know what to say…."

"You don't have to say anything."

Draco lays his chin on your shoulder. He felt himself relaxing as you held each other. It felt…so right. He then lifts his chin up and moves his head so his lips are next to your ear.

"Please, never tell anyone what you saw…or what we talked about."

"I won't, I promise."

That was all Draco needed to hear. He cupped your cheek in his hand and began to lean in and then, without thinking, pressed his lips onto yours. He pulled you closer, his hand on the back of your neck. The kiss was so heated and hungry. You kissed back, your hands finding his shoulders.

Draco deepened the kiss, he grabbed your hip and picked you up, placing you on his lap without stopping the kiss. He then grabbed the back of your head and began to nibble at your bottom lip. You part your lips in response, a soft moan leaving them.

He let out a small groan and slipped his tongue in your mouth, beginning to explore all around your mouth while grabbing your thigh. He could feel himself giving in to whatever was happening between the both of you. A whimper escapes your lips as you run your fingers through his hair. Draco groaned as you raked your fingers through his hair. He pulled you closer to him, grabbing your hip so you were pushed up right against him, slowly rocking his hips up into you.

"Fuck, you’re driving me crazy…"

Draco could feel himself shudder after he said that. He gripped your hips and pushed them down again, rolling his own up into you. Some more moans escape your lips as you paw at his shirt. You slowly try to move your hips as well, wanting more friction.

"This needs to be off."

Draco moves one of his hands from your waist and starts to unbutton your shirt. You comply and take off your shirt, tossing it to the ground. He moves his head back up as you take off your shirt and moans at the sight of you.

"You look so good…"

"Thank you."

Your eyes close for a second at the amount of pleasure you were feeling grinding into him. He moves his hands up from your hips then gently grabs your chin and turns your head to look at him.

"Keep those pretty eyes open, sweetheart."

"Sorry. It feels too good."

You reply when you open your eyes back up. Draco groans again at your words and he cups your cheek with one hand.

"Don’t apologize, just…just keep moaning for me."

You nod your head, desperately rolling your hips against him, his name leaving your lips. The rolling of your hips causes him to moan lowly against your jaw. Your moans persist as you grow closer to cumming. Draco moves his hand down from your cheek and grabs your hip as he continues to grind up against you.

"You are so perfect."

He whispers in your ear, and moans again, feeling himself getting close to the edge. Your head falls back as the intense rush of pleasure courses through your body. Draco takes this opportunity and kisses your exposed neck, savoring the moment. His chest is rising and falling, his groans are getting more frequent.

"You’re gonna make me…make me…"

Draco’s breath hitches again as he tries to form words. His hips are moving against you faster and faster.

"Yeah... Can we.. cum together..?"

You grab onto his shoulders, bouncing up and down a little. Draco moans, his body shuddering a bit at your words.

"Yes…yes we can sweetheart…yes…"

He’s almost begging at this point. His hips can’t seem to stop moving. The amount of friction between them caused their bodies to heat up, sweat painting their skin. Their bodies grind together, moans and grunts leaving mouths every few seconds as they both approach the edge. Draco pushes your hips down hard one last time as he shudders, his head falls forward onto your shoulder as he finishes. His moans and grunts are loud and hot, his breaths are quick and deep. You follow soon after your eyes rolls back as tears prick the corners of them.

Draco pants, leaning his cheek against your shoulder. You feel his chest rising and falling as he tries to steady his breathing, his breaths are hot against your ear.

"You’re…you’re amazing.."

Draco pants as he places a kiss on your shoulder. His arms have made their way around you, wrapped you up into a tight embrace, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

"So.. so are you.."

Draco turns his head and places a kiss onto your neck. He pulls away and looks up, locking eyes with you. He runs a hand over your cheek, then over your collarbone and up to your shoulder. He holds you close then captures your lips in a passion filled kiss. Knowing that you weren't leaving his dorm anytime soon.

Star's notes -> Sorry if this is terrible, I didn't really proof read it.

(Requests are open!)

Taglist -> @elmolovesw33d @helendeath | Join the taglist

[flowersandbigteeth]

is there any chance of getting vampire daddies 🤧💔

idk if this is what you meant...but I've been really wanting to do a mom reader and a lil bb <3

Vampire (Levi) x Single mom reader

Word Count: 2.5k

W: some violence and minor character death, drugging, kidnapping, babynapping, cute baby, sfw vampire fluff, small character injury

“What is she doing here?!” your client Levi Prishdarov growled, baring his vampire fangs at the bundle on your back. He was a massive vampire, looming over the two of you at something like 7 feet tall. His jet black hair hung around his shoulders in loose waves, brushing the red silk house jacket that matched his eyes. It hung open, revealing his alabaster chest, looking like a carved Greek statue. 

Behind you, your six month old daughter, Meryl babbled baby speak and yanked on your hair, pointing at him with one small finger.

“Daaaa!”

You gave Levi an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry Mr. Prishdarov,” you said quickly, pulling your arms out of the fish tank you were working on and wiping them on a rag, “her son-of-a-bitch father ran off, so Meryl’s gonna have to come with me on my runs for a while, I hope you don’t mind. I promise she won’t disrupt my work.” 

You hadn’t meant to be so candid with the Lord of the largest vampire clan in the area, but you’d been under a lot of stress recently. You’d just gotten out of a relationship with your asshole ex fiance after he decided six months after Meryl was born that monogamy and fatherhood were not for him. 

He left you high and dry with a business to run on your own and a baby. He’d taken off with everything in your bank account, so you didn’t even have any of your savings for daycare. Fortunately Meryl was at least big enough to ride on your back while you went around town servicing fish tanks. 

When people asked you about her you’d given up on pulling your punches and trying to talk delicately about the situation. You had no choice but to bring her with you, so you needed all the sympathy and understanding you could get. Occasionally she cried or you had to change her diaper, which wasn't a good look.

He wrinkled his nose at your daughter and took a step forward, examining her. He poked her cheek with a large, cold finger and her eyes got big. She grabbed the digit with her tiny chubby hand and stuck it in her mouth to chew. His cold skin probably felt nice on her poor little gums, sore from teething. 

“You don’t have a wet nurse?” he asked. 

You chuckled. 

“I don’t think they’ve had those around for a hundred years, sir,” you laughed. 

“So you are just carrying her around with you? Exposing her to germs and strangers?!” he gasped. 

You shrugged, handing her a bit of clean tubing to play with in hopes she would release Levi’s finger. 

“I think she’ll be fine,” you assured mostly yourself, but it did concern you that you had to go to all these different places with her. This wasn’t the vision of motherhood you imagined, toting her around like luggage to your jobs, but it was nice spending time with her and she was a happy baby, smiling at everyone and collecting pats.

The hardest part so far had been keeping her out of your clients hands while you worked and in her carrier. They had a tendency to pick her up and tote her off throughout the house. There were odd selfies of her all over instagram with her fans. You worried about her being exposed to so many people, but you were dancing on a delicate line.

Levi glared at the two of you, so you quickly finished up your work to make yourself scarce. Not everybody liked babies and you weren’t surprised a vampire lord would be a little miffed by one. 

–

“Here comes the choo-choo!” you giggled, aiming the little spoon of baby food at Meryl’s mouth. It had been a long day running all around town to refill tanks with salt water, feed and restock fish, and do all the other things a fish tank service person did all with a little cinnamon roll wriggling on your back. 

Fortunately, all the activity had made her sleepy and she was barely keeping her eyes open as you tried to coax her into eating her mashed peaches as you held her, sitting on the bumper of your van. 

You had one more stop for the day, at the house you were parked in front of, and then you could take her home, make dinner, and the both of you could crash until she woke up hungry again. 

You stretched, before strapping a sleepy Meryl back to you and knocking on the door. 

“Hello Mr. Gujek,” you said to the orc standing there. He frowned down at you. 

“Is that a baby?” he asked. 

“She’s my daughter,” you clarified, “her name is Meryl, but she won’t get in my way, she’s passed out.” 

He didn’t look happy, but you ignored it. It was the end of the day and you wanted to get this last job over with so you could get home. 

“Can’t you leave it in the van?” he asked.

You glared at him, setting your things up by his thousand gallon arowana tank. 

“I am not leaving her in the van,” you snapped just as harshly as you meant to, “she’s fast asleep. She won’t cause any trouble.” 

The orc seemed extremely put out, but again, you brushed it off. It was the end of the day, you didn’t really have the patience to get into a long discussion about anything. All Mr. Gujek needed was a filter change and to administer some medicine for fin rot. You’d be out of there in fifteen minutes.

He disappeared for a moment, leaving you with the fish, then reappeared a minute later holding a cup of coffee. 

“I’m sorry about that, I wasn’t expecting you to bring your baby. I was just surprised…” he trailed off more gently, “you must be tired. Have some coffee.” 

You glanced at him from beside the tank and accepted the cup without thinking, taking a sip. Coffee was exactly what you needed after such a long day. 

“Thanks Mr. Gujek, you have no idea how much I needed this,” you chuckled, throwing back a bit more. 

He gave you a tight smile. You went back to replacing the filter, balancing the cup on the tank stand only distance suddenly seemed wonky. As you moved your hands they seemed further and further away and less and less responsive to your brain’s orders. 

“Huh?” you murmured and then the world got swimmy. 

You immediately thought of Meryl, pulling her safely to your front in the wrap you carried her in, as you started to sink the floor, the world getting foggy. Your last thoughts were of protecting her head with your hands as you hit the ground and things went dark. 

—

“I didn’t know she was going to have a baby with her,” Mr. Gujek’s voice snarled at someone. 

Your eyes felt itchy and dry and it took you some time to get them open. 

“I’m not killing  a baby,” he said, “that’s why I called you. Can’t you do something with it? Sell it or raise it as livestock or something? I just want the woman. Just don’t…you know…murder it…that’s bad karma...no, it’s not the same as kidnapping! Whatever, hurry up and get over here!” 

You shook your head, trying to chase the fogginess away but it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. 

“Meryl…?” you groaned, trying to look around, your panic slowly growing as you realized you couldn’t move your arms and legs and Meryl wasn’t in them. 

You were in a bedroom, chained to a modern, nice bed with a cushioned headboard and expensive sheets.  

“Meryl?!” you cried, looking around. You didn’t see her anywhere! You went into full on panic mode, screaming and fighting your restraints until your bones started popping. You were considering whether or not you could break your thumbs to get out of the manacles when Mr. Gujek appeared in the doorway holding your baby in one arm. 

She was such a tiny little thing compared to the massive orc, it set off every protective bone in your body. 

“Give her to me!” you demanded, “give me my daughter!” 

He gave you a chilly smile.

“You should probably stop thinking of it as yours,” he smirked, looking down at her, “when its new master arrives it’ll belong to him.” 

She glared up at him, tears building in her wet little eyes and it broke your heart. His disgusting hands on her were worse than her father leaving. She waved her little fists as if she could fight him off.

“This is sick you bastard!” you screeched, tears clouding your vision, “I’ll do anything! Anything you want, please just don’t take her away!” 

He crossed the room and sank into the bed next to you. 

“You shouldn’t have had a baby,” he pouted, and Meryl started to sniffle in his arms, “Only I get to breed you…but it is good to know you are fertile. Now there’s no question of that. Don’t be sad. I’ll give you plenty of little ones to love, strong orc babies, better than this one.” 

You heard the doorbell ring and the orc eagerly hopped up as if a pizza had arrived. You heard the front door open and a muffled question. 

“May I come in?” 

“Come on,” the orc said, “I want to get this over with so I can get to playing with my new toy.”  

You heard Meryl crying and the sound of something wet tearing. Was it fabric? Flesh? Your heart pounded and tears rolled down your cheeks. Meryl! Meryl had to be okay!

You struggled with the restraints, trying to keep at the front of your mind that if she was still crying she was alive. You could get to her, you just had to try harder. Pain radiated up your arms as you tried to force your hands through the metal cuffs and blood leaked down your wrists as they scraped your skin. 

There was a wet gurgle and a thunk, then silence and you froze, tears plummeting down your cheeks. 

“Meryl…?” you whispered as your heart went ice cold. 

Heavy bootsteps stomped through the hallway, getting closer and closer until a tall dark figure appeared in the doorway.

“Meryl!” you shrieked, seeing her before even seeing the male holding her. 

She was propped in the crook of Levi’s large arm, chewing on his finger happily. His other hand was dripping blood. The collar of his white shirt with soaked with it and the sleeve of his suit jacket was dark. 

He frowned at you and crossed the room quickly, holding your little nugget under his arm like a china football as he yanked the chains holding you to the bed, snapping them like threads. You held your loose arms out for your baby and he passed her to you. You didn’t even notice him looking you over for injuries and growling at the lacerations on your wrists. 

“Oh thank goodness!” you sobbed, holding her to your chest and covering her with kisses. 

Finally it occurred to you that it was odd Levi was there and you looked up at him. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked. 

He frowned down at you, looking not in the least bit amused. 

“The orc wanted to sell me Meryl,” he said, scooping you both up in his arms and carrying you out of the bedroom. You hid Meryl’s face and tried to swallow down the bile that rose as you passed the mess the vampire had made of the orc and left in the hall. His limbs were all over the place and blood was splattered on the walls. 

When you got outside he passed your work van and headed directly to his limousine. He washed the bloody hand with some supplies he pulled from a small compartment in the vehicle and started dabbing your wrists with whatever cleanser he kept. 

“But…I need to take my van home…” you started to say, but trailed off as his red eyes focused on you. 

“I’ll have someone come collect it, the rest of your things are already being taken to my house,” he said. 

“Y-you’re house?” you asked. 

He looked down at you evenly. 

“My daughter and wife are not going to be running around town going in and out of stranger’s homes,” he said with distaste, “as you can see it’s dangerous. You’ll stay at home where it’s safe.” 

“Wait…what?! You’re what?!” you asked, “We have a home!” 

He nodded. 

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” 

“I’m not your wife, though,” you said. 

He cocked his head. 

“According to the state of (Y/S) you are, Mrs. Prishdarov,” he said, more cheerful than you’d ever seen him in all the years you’d cared for his stingrays. 

You shivered and narrowed your eyes at him.

“You’re not going to eat us, are you?” you asked, suspiciously and he laughed out loud, displaying a smile you’d never seen before that was very handsome. 

“I’m not going to eat my wife and child,” he said, matter-of-factly, picking up Meryl’s tiny hand between two fingers and gently shaking it, “am I, little baby bat? You are not for eating! You are for spoiling! You are going to be the most spoiled insufferable little girl in the whole world.”  

He looked at her with absolute adoration. 

“Daaaaa!” she gurgled, gripping his finger in her much smaller ones and pushing it in her mouth. 

“I don’t understand. Why are you doing this?” you asked as you stared in awe as your little child innocently chewed on the vampire’s digit that had only moments ago been ripping apart an orc twenty times her size. 

His eyes flashed and his opposite hand found your cheek, his cool fingers drifting down your face. 

“Because I’ve been watching you,” he said smiling, “since you suggested the rays to me in the fish store. I’ve become fascinated with you.” 

You'd met Levi at the fish store you'd worked at a few years earlier before your business had taken off. It was a high end boutique for salt water fish and you'd sold him on the stingrays.

They'd always been your favorite and you'd wanted some yourself, but there was no chance you would ever have the money for an enclosure large enough.

You had no idea, the entire time you'd been coming over to his house, servicing his fish tank Levi had been growing more and more attached to you. He'd pined after you, especially, while you were pregnant and delicate, infuriated that your fiance let the little, round mother of his child waddle from house to house working on fishtanks. He sighed.

“I thought I had more time to seduce you after I ate- I mean, I-ah, since…whatever his name was…disappeared,” he frowned, “but of course a pretty thing like you would be popular and attract all the wrong sort. That’s the curse of beautiful women, isn’t it?” 

Your eyes widened at him. 

“B-but I’m human…” you said. 

Surely a vampire clan lord didn’t want a mere human and her baby. 

“And you will remain so until you’re done nursing…then we’ll discuss a more permanent arrangement,” he replied. 

You gasped. 

“A more…permanent-”

“Shhh, you are very tired my little guppy,” he cooed and you felt your eyes getting heavy as he looked into them with his swirling irises. 

No! Not again! You tried to fight it, but your world went foggy and your hands went limp around Meryl. When you were asleep, Levi arranged you against his chest and smiled down at his new baby girls.

“Daaadaaa!” Meryl babbled sweetly at him as she tried to grab at his fangs. 

“That's right! Don't tell your mama but I killed your sperm donor, little baby bat,” he said in his own baby voice, gazing into Meryl's big eyes and gently wiggling her tiny toes.

He lifted her chubby little foot to nibble it and smiled, “now I’m your daddy. Can you say dad-dee?”

She stuck her foot in her mouth and waved at him with her pudgy hands.

"Daaaaaaa-drrrreeeee," she tried and they both grinned.

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

“If You Don’t Look Good, We Don’t Look Good” - Dean x Reader

Rating Explicit

Dean x Reader

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Humor, Shameless Smut (I got carried away), Cameo Appearance by Soft!Dom Dean, Unprotected Sex

Word Count: 4200

You and Sam had decided on a code to use in the most grievous, world-shattering of situations.

Full Dean Meltdown

Neither one of you have had to use it – until you get a text from Sam. A case has gone all kinds of awful for Dean. You are not ready for the version of Dean you have to face in the aftermath.

Notes: This is total self-indulgence because I miss This Dean.

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Hair Pulling" square.

Image created in Canva (links for photos used - found on Google: Jensen Ackles, Liverpool Comic Con, 2023; Jensen Ackles Photo Shoot

66

You stare, mid-muffin chew, at Sam’s text.

“Fuck me.” A few stray crumbs and a rogue blueberry land on a page of lore you should probably be more careful with. But you can’t be bothered with MOL reference handling procedures at the moment.

This is Red Alert. Defcon 5. Designated Survivor Mode Activated.

You and Sam had decided on a code to use in the most grievous, world-shattering of situations.

Full Dean Meltdown

“Fuck.” There’s no point in continuing to curse to yourself. “Fuck.” But you can’t help it. Neither one of you has ever had to use it before. You’d come close a few times.

The book is forgotten, pushed to the side on the table surface. Your fingers glide over the phone’s keyboard.

Is he alright?!? What happened? Please, tell me this is a joke?

I wouldn’t joke about this. Sam’s words bubble up, line by line. Well, I made the mistake of joking right after it happened. It’s gotten progressively worse the entire drive back. He hasn’t said a single word since we got in the car. IDK what’s gonna happen.

“Fuck.”

Should I evacuate? How much time do I have?

Just pulled into the garage.

Shit, Sam! Do you not understand how a code word for disaster preparedness works? One needs enough time to actually prepare for the disaster!

You wait. More bubbles. Then nothing. Maybe Sam didn’t make it out alive. Maybe you should make a run for it through the war room and up the stairs. Save yourself.

I received some communication. He’s headed straight for the showers. Meet you in the lab.

“A what?”

“Musca.” Sam sighs. “Ever seen ‘The Fly’?”

“On cable years ago, filtered through my fingers.”

Sam continues. “They secrete this sticky goo to build a nest.” His mouth crinkles. “Dean landed in it.”

“The nest?” you ask.

“The goo. A puddle of the stuff. Monster fluids freak him out.”

You shiver in disgust at the thought. “Fuck creature feature fluids. 100% in agreement.”

“So, we tracked the musca to its hideout in an abandoned factory. We split up when we got inside…”

“Why do you always split up?” you ask, following it with a frustrated groan.

Sam purses his lips and then proceeds. “When I found him, he was basically glued to this massive conveyor belt holding the goo like it was a kiddie pool. I had to cut him out of most of his clothes to free him.”

The thought of a half-naked Dean has you shiver for other reasons. “Poor guy,” you add in an effort to express sympathy over your dirty thoughts.

Sam chuckles.

You straighten with worry Sam has figured out your crush on his brother. Ready to dispute any yearnings, you add a grumbly edge to your voice and the question. “What was funny about any of that?”

Sam fists long strands on the right side of his scalp high in the air. “Even his hair got stuck to the belt. I had to hack half of it off.” He fingers his bangs back into effortless waves. “Once we killed it, Dean mumbled, ‘Vidal Sassoon you ain’t, fucker.’”

You shrug, confused. “Well, I mean, I get the trauma from the nasty gnat excretions. But that doesn’t explain why you had to warn of a possible Dean disaster.”  

Sam’s gaze tears from yours to stare at the floor by his boots.

“Sam?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I might have said something like, ‘We can’t all be masterful hunters with glorious locks.’”

You frown. “Sam…”

Sam raises a hand in defense. “Hey, maybe now he’ll finally shut up about my hair being a liability. I mean, hello, I’ve still got mine.”

The temptation to knock on Dean’s bedroom door is great. But you refrain, hiding away in yours instead. He’ll be better in the morning, you decide. Especially if you fry up some bacon.

A light rap of knuckles against mahogany distracts you from the latest show binge on your laptop. You pause the action. “Yeah?”

“Got a minute?” Even with the question, Dean’s tone sounds like a command.

You gulp. “Sure.” Rotating in the seat, your hand grips the top of the backrest. You’ll try to hold the line against the Dean Winchester Offensive.

The door swings slowly on its hinges. Dean slinks into your space. It’s the opposite of his usual bluster and humorous bellows that lead to inevitable laughter on your end. His slippers shuffle along the tile. He’s wearing roomy sweats and a dark t-shirt that hugs his torso. A folded towel is wedged into the crook of his arm. 

Your brain locks onto two things that appear off about Dean. The first thing totally out of place on the masterpiece before you is the baseball cap.

In the next second, you remember why he’s wearing it. It’s not because he’s undercover as a delivery driver or Fish and Wildlife Game Warden.

Dean does not want you to see his hair in its current state.

The second thing makes your pulse quicken. His beard is… gone. You can’t remember the last time you saw him even close to clean-shaven. You forgot what that sharp jawline used to do to your insides.

“Hey.” You don your best don’t-let-on-to-anything smile.

Dean scrutinizes you as if you are a witness in his rapid-fire way and then huffs. “Son of a bitch told you, didn’t he?”

You decide not to remind Dean he and Sam share the same mother. “He did. I’m sorry. You okay?”

The door clicks shut. “I’ll live. Sam might not see the light of day, though.”

You ignore the murder threat, instead focusing on a new scent in the air. You sniff, nostrils flaring with the deep inhale. Dean smells like he’s working on an amazing beach tan.

He nods at your reaction. “Coconut Oil. I had to use all that was in the kitchen for…” He circles his lower body with a finger and eventually points to the baseball cap.

“Did it do the trick?”

“Better than I hoped. I even got all that nasty shit out of my hair.” His weight shifts from one foot to the other. “But I need a favor.”

“At your disposal.” Still seated, you somersault your hand as if addressing royalty.

That at least cracks a tiny smile into his serious veneer. “I had to take a razor to my hair and cut it pretty short. Can you clean me up in the back?”

You clutch your chest and gasp in the most dramatic fashion you can muster. “You trust me to touch your hair?” 

“I trust you with my life, wiseass.” Dean smirks. “Can the sass and help a guy out, would ya?”

A warmth blossoms in your heart at Dean’s words. The heat spreads to your skin. You wave a hand at the towel and clear your throat. “Those the accouterments?”

Dean quirks a brow and grins. “Croutons?”

“And you call me the wiseass.” You sigh.

He shrugs with a nod in agreement. He drops the towel on the desk and lifts one of the corners to reveal the electric razor inside.

“Okay. Here’s as good a place as any, I suppose.” You rise from your seat, close the laptop, and move it to your dresser.

“You sure? We can go to the bathroom.” He thumbs at the door.

You wave a hand at the chair you vacated, now standing behind it. “Here’s good.”

Dean sits. The wooden chair creaks.

“Towel.”

Dean grabs the razor before passing the towel. You flap the fabric, channel your inner toreador, and let it billow over Dean’s frame like a sail. When it settles, you wrap and tuck it into the back of the collar.

Moments like this are pure indulgence. Getting within close proximity of Dean years ago left your brain unable to process the simplest tasks. Breathing. Blinking. Talking. Eventually, you got a handle on your senses. Now, you could treat yourself to the experience of him on occasion in a myriad of ways. No one had to be the wiser that the mundane helped create many fantasies.

“Razor.”

Dean chuckles, presenting you with the razor over his shoulder. “It’s not surgery.”

“Hey, appreciate the seriousness with which I’m embracing this endeavor.” You step to his left. “Dean?”

He lifts his head to peer up from under the brim of his cap. “Yeah?” His blinks emphasize the question.

All that does is force you to focus on his pretty lashes and the eye color he’s daring you to try and describe in your head. The cheekbones and the manicured five o’clock shadow aren’t helping matters either. You swallow and remember what’s supposed to happen next. “Can’t do much with that hat on your head.”

“Oh. Right.” He sighs. “Just, no laughing, alright?”

You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze softly in confirmation. “No laughing. Promise.”

Dean exhales. You suck in your lips and hold your breath. He closes his eyes and peels the cap off.

You stare dumbfounded.

“Say whatever you gotta say,” Dean mumbles with scrunched features and shut lids.

Your vision clouds. Heart races. “It’s…”

“Awful,” he interrupts.

“Perfect,” you whisper.

Eyes open at the word. His gaze shoots up to meet yours. “Huh?”

Gone are the 90s dreamboat bangs he’s been growing out and tending to since 2020. In their place are a couple of directionless inches that need gel after the scrubbing, clipping, and hat matting. The Musca goo must have done most of its damage around the sides and back. In those areas, he’s shaved it short and close, done his best to fashion a fade that you imagine was muscle memory for him even after all these years. You eye the spot at the base of his skull that needs to be cleaned and tapered.  

You’re blinking, fighting back tears, utterly speechless.

Dean stares, total confusion lining his face. “Are you crying? Why the hell are you crying?” He taps the top of his head. “Shit… is it that fucking of a fiasco?”

“No.” You cover your mouth at the possibility a nervous laugh might spill out, which will only irritate him further. Moments pass as you struggle to steady your breath.

“Well, what the hell is it then?”

Dropping the hand covering your mouth, you beam down at him. “It’s you.” You could care less about what you were supposed to do with the razor in your hand. Instead, you perch your ass against the desk so you can lean back and take him in.

Dean’s eyes widen. You’ve seen that look of concern many times. “Yeeaaah. It’s me. Who else would it be? Do I need to get Sam?”

Your head shakes in amazement at the vision. “I haven’t seen this Dean since… damn, since before the pandemic. Since you and Sam made that bet, remember?”

“Gonna have to be a little more specific. Sam and I make lots of bets.”

“The one about you being unable to resist the temptation to take a razor to your hair during lockdown. I don’t even remember what the stakes were.”

Dean contemplates. “Hm. I haven’t got a clue. That was like, what, four years ago.” His lids shade the dark green of his irises. “This Dean?”

You nod. Your breath hitches at the swell of emotions rising. “The guy I first met.”

Dean shifts in the chair and leans forward. Every furrow and crinkle on his face melts away. His eyes appear to double in size as he waits for you to continue.

“My hero.” The whisper is a physical manifestation of how vulnerable and exposed you feel at Dean’s silent interrogation method. You press on. “The one that risked his life to save me… forever ago.”

He lifts one side of his mouth in a lopsided grin. “Sam was there, too, you know.”

You laugh. Cheeks warm at the adorably smug reaction. “Yes, you’re right. He was.”

Dean shakes his head. “Sam’s had the exact same haircut for years. I don’t see you crying every time you lay eyes on him. He’s a walking reminder of the guy you first met.”

“But he’s not you.” In your haste to provide an explanation, you realize you’ve said too much.

Dean’s mouth opens a fraction. His brows downturn. He’s working it out in his head in real-time.

You’re terrified.

A new smile forms. You think you spot a blush on his cheeks. “What else do you remember about this Dean?”

You shrug and tear your gaze from his. You don’t want your words to betray you again.

“Hm.” Dean rambles off a laundry list. “A lot of brooding back then, wasn’t there? I was a really good brooder. Hard to figure out? Distant, too, right? Definitely knew what was best for everybody. Stubborn jackass.”

You remain silent.

“Okay, still a stubborn jackass.”

You giggle. He joins in with a chuckle. Your anxiety eases and you find courage to look at him again.

“We’ve all changed in different ways, I guess. You, for example.” Dean gestures in your direction.

You stiffen. This could go many ways. You aren’t ready for any of them.

“You don’t take any of my shit, for one.” He raises a finger. “You're confident. You speak your mind. You have a life outside of these bunker walls.” Four fingers are on display for a while. He smiles and elongates his thumb. “But you still make this your home.”

“Every second of the life I’m able to live is because of you guys. I owe you everything. I’m lucky you let me make this my home.” You reason.

Dean’s smile drops. The open palm clenches into a fist and rests on his thigh. “You don’t owe us anything.”

“You and Sam did all that for me without batting an eye. You didn’t expect anything in return. You and Sam gave me so much more than I could ever repay. You gave me a second chance. You gave me a home.” You shrug and smile. “You became my home.”

He studies the floor and smirks, stating more to himself, “Not the only long-standing bet I’ve lost to Sam today.” Dean inhales and sits tall, focusing back on you. He nods, slow and calculated. “So, perfect, huh?” 

You roll your eyes. “Don’t get a big head.”

“A little late for that.” He grins and reclines back. “Would you go so far as to say this Dean” – he sweeps his hands in front of his figure in a dramatic gesture – “is irresistible?”

You exhale. “I don’t know if I’d say irresistible.”

He licks his lips. “Whew. Well, that’s good. I mean, otherwise, you’d have the same problem I have.”

You drop the razor on the desk and cross your hands over your chest. “What problem would that be?”

A heated gaze, beginning at your socked feet, rakes over you with his answer. “How much I find every fucking thing about you irresistible. You could shave your head and wear a potato sack, and I’d still have to keep my feelings in check.” You're practically on fire by the time his eyes lock with yours. “Every goddamn second of every day I’m around you.”

“This would be one of those times I don’t take any of your shit,” you scoff and squint back.

It’s his turn to clutch his hand to his chest. “You think I’m lying?”

“I think you’re having a little too much fun at the expense of my soul-baring.”

“Wanna bet?” 

Dean’s voiced that question countless times. Tonight, though, certainty laces his words.

He seems to take your silence as the only needed response. “Kiss me.”

“Wh-hat?”

“If you think you can resist, kiss me, and it’s a one-and-done.” His brows lift. “But if you can’t… Well, I might not leave this room anytime soon.”

“That doesn’t sound like a wager. More like a dare.” You straighten your stance. “Besides, you’re assuming…”

He grumbles out an interruption, “Sounds like somebody’s stalling.”

Your mouth snaps shut.

“Maybe we both take the armor off for a night. Take a chance on something that could be awesome.” Dean posits. His hands rub the cloth atop his thighs. “I can make it awesome.” The tone is low and promising. “If it helps, I’m this Dean tonight. We can worry about that Dean tomorrow.” He smiles, reaches a hand out to you, and nods in encouragement.

He’s struggling to play it cool, keep his emotions in check. You’ve seen this Dean before. He’s inhaling and exhaling fast through his nose. His jaw clenches and it cracks your resolve even further.

You drop your shield and let this Dean win you over. 

You melt, wrapping your fingers over his. This Dean’s touch electrifies every cell and awakens every dormant hope you had put to rest. He tugs you into his space. His lead forces the parting of your legs in order for his thigh to slot between. You hover. Your chin drops to your chest while his chin tips up high to hold your gaze. His body heat pulses off him like a vibrational energy. “Kiss me.” It’s the sweetest and softest request you’ve ever heard this Dean utter.

Your fingers trace along the freshly shaved hair over his right ear. It’s slippery and smooth in one direction, scritch-scratchy in the other. You can study every battle scar on this handsome canvas. No bangs of curtains or overgrown beard can hide them from you now. 

His lips part and release a deep sigh. Your fingers slip down his neck. Warm hands rest on the curve of your hips.

“I won’t be able to resist you,” you whisper.

“Good,” he hums. He’s guiding you with a firm grip to straddle his thigh. Then, there’s an encouraging push with a large palm and splayed fingers against the middle of your back. The sweet smell of coconut hits. Your gaze zones onto that bowed top lip. The way the plump bottom one parts from it to grant entrance.

Dean huffs an impatient groan you are all too familiar with. “You don’t kiss me in the next five seconds, I’m gonna kiss you.”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?” you tease.

“More like a warning.” His voice is gruff and deep.

You hold back a moan at the sound, then dip down and do as you’re told.

Everything about the kiss is eager and rushed. Together you’re a tangle of limbs and fever pitch need. You’re pressed tight and right to his body - all muscle-tense and trigger-ready. His lips respond in kind to your every brush, swipe, and nudge for more and more.

“Gonna take such good care of you,” he murmurs through the kiss.

You gasp in satisfaction at the intention. 

His lips skim to your jaw, under your ear, then down your neck. “I gotta know that’s what you want.”

“Yes, Dean.”

Another hum thrums against your skin. You shiver as fingers creep under the hem of your t-shirt. His nose nuzzles along the frayed v-neck collar. He cups your breasts under the fabric. A thumb and finger twists one of your nipples even more erect. Teeth scraping and tongue lapping over the other fabric-covered nipple draw a strained moan out of your throat.

Soon the shirt is tugged hastily over your head for removal. Then you feel his mouth and hands all over your breasts again, unencumbered.

You’re a panting, heaving mess riding his thigh like you’re on an X-rated carousel. You arch your chest into his face. He’s slurping and sucking your nerve endings into the stratosphere. He pops a tit out of his mouth long enough to order, “Yeah, come for me so I can fuck that nice wet pussy.”

Dean staring at you, commanding you to come for him, is the tipping point you need to orgasm hard and fast.

“Yeah.” He grabs a fistful of your hair and clamps his mouth to yours. “Gonna feel so good around my cock.” He steals every gasp of air you expel with his inhales.

You’re tingling all over. He peels you off his thigh to sandwich his standing body to yours. He towers over you. He’s stiff and erect in his sweats, pressed into your lower tummy. His hands sweep up and down the channel of your spine.

“This Dean’s got a lot to make up for.” His tongue licks at your lips. “But I gotta be inside you right now.”

You nod. “You got five seconds to get me naked and on that bed.”

Never let it be said that Dean Winchester is not up for a challenge.

The chair behind him is now careening towards the bedroom door on all four legs. You scream-giggle as he lifts you into the air while he twirls, then tosses you onto the mattress, bouncing at the impact.

The sound of the chair crashing and toppling into a corner does nothing to distract you from watching Dean tunnel out of his t-shirt, kick off his slippers, and hopscotch out of his pants and boxers. His hard, thick cock springs to attention.

Fuck. You want every inch of that deep inside you.

He hooks his fingers onto the hem of your pants and manages to pull your socks off along with them. Kneeing onto the bed, he croons, “Been wanting you for so long, baby.”

Your head falls back into the cushion of the mattress, woozy from Dean’s actions and confession. “Probably been wanting you longer.”

Your panties are off and tossed over his shoulder next. “You don’t gotta wait anymore.” He grips under your knees and drags you to him. He slides over the wet heat of your folds and hisses, “Wanna fuck you without a condom.”

You whimper, “Just fuck me already.”

He smiles, grabs his cock – that must be fitted with a pussy homing device – and pistons into your entrance without any further mother fucking ado.

You gasp at the searing heat and sharp pain of him stretching you open. But he doesn’t stop fucking you. He’s minding how your facial features accept the brunt of each thrust and the agonizing slow release of his cock. Over and over. His descent is just as slow as he fucks. But eventually, your legs clamp around his waist and he wraps you in an embrace. Chests plastered together, moaning into each other’s mouths.

Your fingers inch into what remains of his bangs. You pull at the hair and Dean groans out, “Yeah.”

It’s lovely and languid for however long you both have the patience. The feel of him everywhere and inside is something you don’t ever want to end. But there’s a second orgasm building. The thought of Dean spilling into you has your walls clench in impatience around his cock.

“Fuck,” he grunts, face tucked along your neck. You lift your head up to enjoy the view of his undulating back and curvy ass clenching and raising as his fucking gains momentum. You pull at his hair again. “Fuuuck.”

He stills, turns to stone, and you feel his cock pulse and warmth spill inside. Moments later, a hand wedges between your bodies to thumb your clit and trigger your second orgasm.

You cry out his name.

“I got you, baby,” Dean whispers into your ear. And he does. Not letting go and practically swaddling you with his body. The sexiest weighted blanket on the planet.

You smile and stroke – instead of pulling – at his hair. “Who’s got me exactly? This Dean or That Dean?”

He sighs, sounding winded. “You get all the versions. Whether you like it or not.”

“I’d like that very much.”

He leans back to stare at you. “Yeah?” He’s red and flushed and the happiest you’ve ever seen him. “Even if I grow my hair out again?”

You nod. “Yeah. More for me to pull.”

Dean groans and flops to his back beside you, chuckling.

You listen to the rhythm of your collective breathing slow down and regulate. His fingers brush along the flesh of your thigh. “Dean?”

“Hm?”

“Earlier, you said something about losing two bets to Sam today. What was the other one?”

“Asshole told me you had a thing for me years ago. Let’s hold off on telling him he was right, or I’m doing his laundry for an entire year.”

“I don’t think we have to tell him anything, Dean. I’m pretty sure he heard everything.”

“Hm. You’re right.” He’s up on an elbow, staring down at you. “Maybe text him that code thing? That might get him out of the bunker for a while.”

You blink. “Code?”

“Don’t play coy now.” Dean shakes his head. “But what’s the ‘66’ mean?”

You bite your lip.

He waits.

“It was Sam’s idea.”

He waits.

“The 66 Seals.” 

Dean cringes.

You shrug. “Too soon?”

“And he says I have a twisted sense of humor.” Dean yawns. He finds the edge of the comforter you both are lying atop and tosses it over your naked bodies. “So, will you still clean me up in the back? Maybe wait until morning, though?”

“Absolutely.” You snuggle into his chest, secure that Dean will wake up next to you in the morning. “If you don’t look good, we don’t look good.”

It takes a beat before Dean responds with a teasing smack to the back of your head, followed by a kiss on your forehead. “Wiseass.”

[swanmaids]

I saw that you hate Maeglin, and I’m so glad to meet a fellow Maeglin hater!

He’s a character who has tons of fans for reasons I don’t understand, considering that he’s a huge creep. Like, I felt sympathy for him seeing his mother die, but my sympathy quickly dried up when, instead of breaking the cycle of abuse in his family, Maeglin decides to be a creep towards Idril and betray his own city so he could have her for himself.

And I don’t understand the people who try to say that Idril bears some responsibility for the Fall of Gondolin for not accepting her own cousin’s feelings. Idk, something about the rhetoric around Maeglin feels really victim-blamey towards Idril, so I just can’t bring myself to like him.

Sorry for rambling in your inbox! I just needed to get this off my chest!

No fr haha him repeating the cycle of abuse is interesting and I would have been interested in exploring that but the way that so much of the fandom talks about Maeglin has made me sour on him so much that I’ve just completely lost interest in the character. The glossing over of his actual character and actions (if I have to read “Pengolodh made it all up!!!!” One more time…), the weird apologism where forced marriage totally has NOTHING to do with rape you guys!!! And the way that Idril and Aredhel are made to have their entire lives and afterlives revolve around Maeglin (to the point where Idril is almost erased from her own story) …. It’s all just exhausting to me lol

[livelaughlovesubs]

Ok ok. So I don’t usually like angst but what about WHB mc finally breaking after Sitri time after time has only considered and called them Solomon. Maybe it hurts more because mc has fallen for him so him still not viewing mc as their own person hurts even more? Anyways yeah :) I’m still very annoyed that Sitri consideres the mc as Solomon in WHB :):):)

OH ALSO, it would be kinda cool if Sitri could like hear how mcs heart beat changes and stuff when he calls them Solomon or something around this lines, I was thinking about this all last night.

Ok, hi Nini 💗 how was your dayyyy?? 💗💗

-🐼

Heyyy, my day was pretty good, I like this idea so~ it will probably be short though. (I’m writing so much sfw stuff these days)

Annnd, idk how to write heartbeat, looked it up, and it said ‘lub’ and ‘dub’ soooo

~…..lub…..dub…..lub…..~

A steady heartbeat, rhythmic, like music to his ears. Sitri listened closely to your heart, he can read your mood like that. You were feeling bored, the beat was rather slow. He walked over to you, showcasing a gentle smile, “would you like some tea?” “Ah, sitri..! Yes, tea would be nice, thanks.”

~…dub…..lub..dub…..lub~

The pace got chaotic, but calmed down eventually, seems like you were deep in thought. “I’ll prepare it.” You watched his back while he heated the water, those baby blue locks looked so pretty in your eyes. He was a devil, yes, but even so he is definitely one of the most charming ones. You also liked how attentive he was, he always knew instantly how you felt.

~…lub….dub….lub….~

Your heartbeat got a little faster, were you impatient? He hurried up with the preparation, pouring the water over the leaves, then putting everything on a plate. Careful, diligent steps, not a single drop got wasted, how elegant. Sitri put the plate down on the table in front of you, he was still wearing a small smile. “Thank you, sitri!” You took a sip, and returned the smile to him. “My pleasure, Solomon.”

Ah… right. This time even you could feel your heartbeat drop. You’ve been tolerating him enough, everything with no fail, he always called you by that name. It was as if a needle pierced your heart, as if it got cut down and thrown out. He was attentive, but he was delusional, and that hurt. It hurts a lot.

~…lub-dub….lub….dub..lub…~

The rhythm got hieratic, sitri’s eyes widened a little, was it the effects of the tea? “Solomon-” “stop, sitri, don’t utter that name.” “What do you mean, Solomon?” “Stop it, don’t call me by that name.” “Humans are so strange, why don’t you want me to call you by your name?” “Because it’s not mine!” Maybe it was because of your already shitty mood, but you snapped. “What..Solomon-” “stop! stop..stop, just, stop it…”

~dub-lub..dub…lub..dub-lub~

Ah, what a… raging heart, fast, uneven. It sounded painful, why? This always happened whenever he calls your name, so he thought it was ‘normal’. But this time, you didn’t have an ounce of sympathy, there was only disappointment. “Sitri, think about it, do I look like Solomon to you?”

~lub..dub..lub-dub…lub~

It got louder, it sounded expectant, you told him to think? Right, your appearance wasn’t the same, but the soul, the heart beat, it was the same. You are Solomon, maybe only a reincarnation, but you were him. “I don’t understand, you are Solomon, there is nothing to change about it.”

~lub-dub…lub-dub..lub~

Now it sounded like.. you lost hope? At what, what do you want from him? He didn’t understand humans- no, he didn’t understand you. “Sitri, I need time for myself. Leave.” “But-” “no, sitri, you don’t understand, I just want you to…” he looked at you expectantly, you could see that his eyes were filled with confusion. “To leave me alone for now, please.” Why couldn’t he understand, is he actively refusing to understand? You don’t want to hurt him, and you know he doesn’t want to hurt you neither, though this just won’t work. The devil listened to your heartbeat a last time, you were wavering between two sides, he definitely did something wrong, but what, what should he do, should he just leave? Maybe that’s for the best. So he did, letting out a deep sigh, face twisting into a sad one, and closing the door behind him.

[leslovesfatties]

Pt. 1: first flight

Idk I was feeling super mushy so I wrote this in like 3 hours lol soft BHM/FFA fiction…should I continue it?

First time flying in two years…and back then it was a squeeze. Determined not to embarrass myself, I called ahead.

“TWO tickets?”

“Yes, sir. But there’s no guarantee the second seat won’t be sold if it’s a particularly full flight.”

I gulped and hesitated. “Okay…so that means I’m paying for a seat I might not get?”

“That’s correct.” Not a hint of sympathy in her voice.

What other choice did I have? “Okay, then. I guess I’ll take the window and middle seat. Oh, and I’ll probably need a seatbelt extender.” Even saying the words made my face flush. I can’t believe I’d let myself get like this. The voice on the other end of the phone either sighed, coughed, or stifled a laugh. I couldn’t be sure which, and I didn’t exactly want to know.

My alarm fades out as I desperately want to hit snooze. I get up, wash my face, and try to keep my anxiety at bay. It’s going to be fine. I got TWO seats. I won’t bother anyone. I put on a little extra deodorant in between my folds and under my moobs. A little cologne for good measure and a crisp shirt. I don’t want people to think I’m some sort of lazy, unkempt slob. I actually really care about my appearance. My face stays neatly shaven, my hair styled, and clothes - when I can find them in my size - are reasonably tasteful. My glasses frames are updated each year in an attempt to elevate my look, or at least take people’s glances away from other parts.

At the airport, I grab a bagel and a coffee, then wait as close to the line as I can to board. Don’t panic. You’re going to fit. Everything’s going to be fine. It’s a short flight, anyways. A mantra I’ve begun to chant in my head as the boarding process begins. I offer a smile to the man who scans my barcode for two tickets and he looks up for the second passenger.

“Oh, uh, it’s just for me.” He acknowledges by nodding me over to continue boarding. I practically hold my breath as I wedge myself between the aisle. Most people brace their carry ons, but I have to brace myself.

Thankfully, no one is in my row, otherwise they’d have to get up to let me through. I plop down and immediately appreciate the forethought to buy two seats. I’m positively squished between the plane wall and armrest.

“Um, excuse me?” Fuck. I look up.

“Are those your bags? Do you want me to put them up here?

“Uh, I’m actually supposed to have this seat.” I try to speak just loud enough for her to hear and no other passengers. She glances down at her phone and back up.

“23 B?” My face flushes as I realize what’s happened. They’ve given up my seat.

“I-I’m so sorry,” I stutter, utterly embarrassed. “I was supposed to…They weren’t supposed to -“ The line behind her grew and we were drawing attention.

“That’s okay! Here,” she reached for my bag and in a daze, I handed it to her. She was so short she couldn’t get it in the overhead compartment all the way and I wanted to disappear. She scooted in and I tried leaning as far as I could into the wall, my side squishing into her armrest. At that moment, I realized I forgot to ask for the seatbelt extender. My ears started ringing and I desperately wanted to get off this flight.

“I’m so sorry…” I began, but she cut me off.

“For what? Don’t apologize.” She finished shoving her bag under her seat and smiled at me.

An older gentleman plopped down next to her and scowled at me. I looked down as he muttered something I was grateful I couldn’t understand. Fuck. How am I going to get the extender now?

“Um, excuse me?” I leaned over slightly to look at the man who’d just joined our row. I’d just about rather die than have to move. He looked up.

“I’m sorry, but I have to get up.”

The man scowled. “Ugh, shouldn’t they have weight limits on these things?” My heart dropped.

“Wow, that was rude.” The girl beside me said pointedly and the man scoffed. I tried to sink down and away into my chair, my face hot with embarrassment.

“I tried to buy two seats…” I began and the girl cut me off.

“You don’t owe him an explanation. He just wants an excuse to be miserable,” the girl turned and whispered to me. I tried to smile but felt like my lip might quiver, so I mouthed “thank you.”

“Everything okay over here?” A slim flight attendant asked, primarily to me.

“Uh, yeah. I-I think I need a…” I tried gesturing to the seatbelt so I wouldn’t have to say it out loud, but she looked puzzled. I gulped, feeling my heart rate rise and willing myself to stop sweating.

“An extender” it was barely audible, but the guy two seats away looked at me with disgust and shook his head. The flight attendant nodded and retreated to find one. I looked out the window so I could get my emotions in check.

“You okay?” The girl whispered. Thank God she was small, otherwise I’d be squishing her.

I nodded, fearing my voice might crack, and swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

“People can be so unkind.” The tenderness in her voice allowed me to look up and I offered her the best smile I could muster up.

The flight attendant came back with the extender and explained how to connect it. I did it as quickly as possible and willed the plane to take off.

The girl made polite conversation with me which calmed my nerves a bit.

“Are you on the connecting flight or stopping at Atlanta?”

“Connecting flight.”

“Cool. I’m sorry they gave up your seat.”

“It’s okay. It sucks that I’m out of the money, though.” I admitted.

“That’s so fucked up. Sorry, messed up. So you paid for two seats but only got one?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, if you get stuck in the same position next flight, I’d be happy to be your seat buddy again.”

I shook my head, “oh, no. That’s very kind of you, but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable the whole trip.” Secretly, I was terrified of getting sat next to someone who wasn’t as kind as her.

“I’m not uncomfortable at all. Plus, you’d be doing me a favor. I get nervous on planes sometimes and it’s nice to talk to someone.” She smiled reassuringly and I almost believed her.

“Sorry, what was your name?”

“Oh, Leslie! Nice to meet you…?”

“Ian,” I smiled, a bit more sincerely this time.

We kept talking and I tried not making it obvious how squished I was between her armrest, but you could easily tell.

“Do you want to move that?” She asked after I’d wiggled around a bit.

“Oh, no. It’s fine.”

“It won’t bother me, but I can’t promise I won’t fall asleep on you.” I felt my face flush and let out a laugh.

“Are you sure?”

“Here,” she raised it for me and my fat immediately pooled out. I looked away, embarrassed. Thank God it still wasn’t touching her, by some miracle. I glanced at her and she had looked away as well. Fuck.

“Sorry” I muttered.

“It’s okay.” She placed her hand on my thigh just above my knee and I felt my breath hitch. She was just being nice.

“Thanks,” I looked out the window and she moved her hand away.

Several minutes later, she had fallen asleep on me. She wasn’t kidding. I tried not to move as I rummaged through my bag for my AirPods. She stirred and jerked up.

“I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. I was trying not to wake you.”

“I’m sure you don’t mind a random stranger sleeping on you,” she chuckled and I grinned in response. “If I fall asleep again, can you wake me when they come by with the snacks?”

“Of course.”

In about 30 minutes, the snack carts came out so I gently nudged Leslie who’d fallen asleep on me again.

“Sorry,” she yawned sleepily. “Thanks for waking me.”

“No problem.”

“Hey, want to get a wine with me?”

“Won’t that make you sleepier?”

“Maybe! Who knows?”

“Two cabernets, please.” She held out her card and I protested.

“No, I got it.” I fumbled for my wallet.

“I insist,” and she handed her card to the flight attendant.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. I invited you to day drink with me. Cheers.”

“Cheers.” I couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you.”

The plane lands and most people eagerly stand up. I wait behind, definitely not eager to bump into anyone. Leslie stands and asks if we can walk to the gate together so we can board the connecting flight together, and I’m extremely grateful.

“Sure.” When most of the people have left, Leslie scoots out and waits for me. I don’t want her to see me struggle to get out of my seat, but it’s inevitable. “I gotta lose some weight,” I try to laugh it off, but I must be a pretty pathetic sight, wobbling and shifting myself over the seats in order to get into the aisle.

She doesn’t respond and I regret pointing out my size, but she still waits as I reach for my bag. Before slinging it down, I notice her staring where my shirt should be covering my stomach, but considering the reaching, it might have ridden up. My face flushes and I throw my bag over my shoulder as quickly as I can, letting Leslie go first.

“Hungry?”

“Oh, no…I just had a bagel.” But I was hungry, and I would be before the next flight.

“We have about an hour before boarding. Maybe we should get something to go for the plane?”

I considered it. “Sure, whatever you want.”

The only respectable restaurant was a shitty Ruby Tuesdays and we decided to eat in. I was able to wedge myself into the booth but it was tight.

“Here, why don’t we move to the bar?” Leslie asked, noticing the tight space.

“Oh no, I don’t mind…”

“You don’t have to be uncomfortable.” She stated.

I thought over my words carefully and explained “I’m just not sure I’ll fit there, either.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Do you want to try? I’ll keep our seat here.”

“Um, sure.” I hefted my weight and tried to keep my cool. The bar stools didn’t have armrests which was a blessing. It was still difficult to fit, but it was better than the booth. I came back to grab our bags and she thanked me, following me to the bar.

“You know, you don’t have to do this. I really appreciate it but I’m okay.” She frowned.

“I like this. I like getting to know you. I’d rather hang out with you than wait alone.” She was so sweet. “Want another drink?”

“Sure.”

We continued talking and I forgot why I was ever anxious in the first place. We ordered another round and I could tell she was starting to feel it. I was getting a little uncomfortable when her glances started going towards my body, so I reached into my bag and pulled over a hoodie. Did she…frown?

“You’re really hard to read,” I confessed.

“How so?” She propped herself up on her elbow and looked at me quizzically.

“I don’t know,” I shook my head. “I just don’t get you.” She smiled coyly.

“I’m an enigma,” she stated with jazz hands for added flair.

“Well, I’m enjoying myself a lot more than I was earlier, so thank you.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me and apologizing. I’m equally enjoying it.” She placed her hand on my thigh and I realized I’d been bouncing my leg anxiously for who knows how long. I didn’t know what to make of her. Friendly, sweet, kind, adorable. Now I have another reason for not wanting to get on the plane…I don’t want this to end.

Leslie orders some appetizers to share and an entree for herself. I try to choose something moderately healthy, so I stick to the grilled chicken sandwich.

“Here, try” she pushes over her appetizer plates to me and I take small bites.

“They’re good.”

“Have more,” she begins forking them onto my plate.

“Whoa, no, that’s okay,” I try to protest but she’s in the middle of loading up my plate.

“I won’t finish them,” she counters, and I oblige, trying not to make a pig of myself.

I try not to eat everything to save face, despite my obvious physique that says I likely have never turned down food before. I order another drink and Leslie is practically staring at me now. I shift uncomfortably in my seat and try sucking in my belly.

“You’re full?”

“Oh, um yeah.”

“We shouldn’t let it go to waste.”

“You ordered them,” I remind her.

“Pleaseeeee,” she’s tipsy now and there’s something in her eyes I can’t quite pinpoint.

“Really?” I laugh. “Why do you want me to finish these? Why not just save them for later?”

“Because you’ll be hungry later, too.”

“Bold of you to assume.” I counter.

“Is it though?” I don’t think she intended malice, but the words sting a little.

“I’m sorry, I just…I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I’m sorry, that was dumb.” She covered her face with her hands.

“It’s okay.“ I pause. She doesn’t say anything. It’s quiet besides her fork scraping against the plate.

“I just, I’m sorry I’m so awkward,” she sighed. “I think you’re really cute.”

I stop mid-bite. “What?” Garbled by the food in my mouth.

She covers her face with her hands again.

I finish swallowing, heart pounding in my chest. “Really?”

“Yes really. I thought I’d made it obvious. I was so nervous.” She confessed.

It took me a second to compute. It made sense. The quick glances, an excuse to put her hand on my leg, insisting on buying my wine.

“It’s so cute when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“You blush.” I could feel my cheeks burning even brighter. We were sitting so close to each other I could smell the sweet rosé on her breath.

She leaned in closer. “You’re seriously so handsome.” I think my heart leapt into my throat and I had to swallow it down. Was this happening?

The bartender interrupted and asked if we wanted to close out, which we did. It gave me a moment to gain my composure.

“You don’t think I’m too…big?” I was afraid to ask. She shook her head and barely audibly answered “I like bigger guys.” Holy shit.

We had to run to our gate and we were both giddy. I offered her my hand and she took it, two wildly different strangers running through an airport together. “I booked two seats…” I explained as they checked my boarding pass and Leslie chimed in “I don’t mind sitting next to him if it’s a full flight. I’m 18 A.”

“Thanks, looks like you might have to. Hang tight.”

“You can give my seat to someone else.” She insisted and the boarding director looked at me and I shrugged.

“Alright, miss,” and he scanned all three tickets.

“I’ll go first to make sure there’s enough room.” Wow. My anxiety was no match for her.

“Excuse me, ‘scuse us,” she’d loudly announce when people’s bags were in my way. I was beyond grateful. We took our seats and I thanked her.

“No more thanking me!” And she pulled her armrest up.

“I’m so cold.”

“Here,” I peeled off my hoodie and felt the cool air hit my stomach when my shirt rode up. “I’m sure it’s way too big, but -“

“Thank you.” She eagerly accepted it and draped it over her, cuddling into me. My heart thudded obnoxiously in my chest.

“Is this okay?” She asked timidly.

“Of course,” I placed an arm around her. Whoever gets sat next to us would probably think we’re a couple on vacation, and I loved that. It was an older, middle aged woman with a smug expression on her face. She first looked at me and practically grimaced. Leslie noticed and placed her arm around my stomach where my waistline would be if it wasn’t covered in fat. I got chills.

It was the tiny nuances that she noticed. How I could use some help maneuvering the aisle, when someone made a comment or just gave a look of disapproval. She was trying to offset it, remind me that I’m not as despicable as they act like I am. Like I’m not a huge waste of space, an eyesore, an inconvenience.

“This is nice.” She sighed into me, arm still wrapped around me.

“So nice,” I agree. She rhythmically rubs her thumb over my stomach and I get goosebumps. I don’t think I’ve ever been touched like this. Sure, I’ve been in relationships and had a couple hookups, but no one ever wanted to touch my body. It was a foreign feeling to have someone actually want to. She looked so small, especially next to me.

“We barely know each other and look at us,” I whispered. She looked up at me excitedly.

“Let’s get to know each other. What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue, yours?”

“Mine too! Favorite food?”

“Anything,” I snickered. “Can you tell?”

“Ha, ha. Alright, how tall are you?”

“Six foot, you?”

“Holy shit. Guess.”

“Hmm, 5’2?”

“Nope. Five foot.”

“Five feet?! That’s it?”

She nodded, stifling a laugh. We were quiet for a little, the hum of the plane and alcohol making us sleepy.

“I really like this.”

“Me too.” I couldn’t believe this was happening. I didn’t want the plane to take off. I wanted to sit with her like this forever.

[lizzie-is-here]

lonely is a man without love

part iv- the hunt

“the moon in me finds the sky in you” - dikshasuman

summary: you and steven do a little bit of grave robbing. oh yeah, marc’s there too.

wordcount: 3.6k

warnings: language, violence, red room talk, idk

a/n: yall i’m so sorry i dropped off the planet for a bit 💀 there’s been a lot going on like i’m in a situationship now w a friend from high school who moved to my college this semester, i finished my finals early, i see taylor swift tomorrow, i’m back home, but ANYWAY i hope y’all enjoy and pls forgive me ik it’s been 3 weeks 😭 love y’all

taglist: @thefictionalgemini @ravenz-hope @undiscl0sed-d3sir3s @iateall-yourcookies @disregardedplant @sunflowers-4 @yellowumbrelllaaaa @bagsy-not-it @local-mr-frog @thescarletredwitch @jupitersmoon167 @creamecafe @stevenknightmarc @theluciansystem @kingtwhiddleston @spider-biter @mxltifxnd0m @sgt-morgan @no-dont-be-suspicious @onzayhe @namorslit @i-cant-write-for-shit @vainillasmil157 @doublevirgogirl

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Hijacking a car is the easiest part.

Driving with a pounding headache isn’t that bad either.

On the other hand, watching Marc fling off his shirt is very hard.

“How did Harrow know those things about me?” you ask, averting your eyes back to the road. “He saw right through me.”

“He’s just trying to mess with you. You know, he’s trying to get in your mind,” Marc says. “No, don’t let him do that. He’s got this idea that he can see the ‘true nature’ of people or some baloney like that.”

He starts putting on a new shirt, and you can’t help but feel a little disappointed as he continues. “If that were true, I don’t think he’d have a bunch of homicidal maniacs as his disciples, would he?”

You tap the steering wheel. “But he knew.”

Marc’s face twists with sympathy. “I know.” He raises a hand to pat your shoulder, but he thinks twice and sets it on the headrest instead. “But he’s just manipulating you. Weaponizing your past.”

You glance at his hand.

“… You can touch me, you know?” It comes out a bit awkward, but meaningful nonetheless.

He gives you a small smile and rests it on your shoulder, a light chill going up your body. You didn’t receive a friendly touch in your life until the Red Room fell, and the first time Nat hugged you after a team dinner you had sobbed your heart out.

It had become your love language, in a way. You may be picky with who touches you, but every passing graze means the world.

And the weight of his hand grounding you feels nice. So you sniffle a bit before nodding sharply.

“Thank you.” Marc doesn’t take his hand back. You don’t want him to. “What did he tell you? I kind of zoned out.”

He shrugs and begins working a knot in your shoulder. “Nothing much. ‘You’re unlovable’ and ‘You’re a monster’. It’s all the same with him.”

You can hear the underlying hurt in his tone, but don’t bring it up.

After a few seconds, you pipe up, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Have I told you about the time I jumped off the collapsing sky base for the Red Room without a parachute?”

———————————————————————

Pulling off into some sand dunes, you drive across the sandy terrain in hopes of finding a place to put this tattered cloth together.

Under the light from the headlights, you and Marc lay out the fabric on the hood of the car and start trying to piece it together.

“Try that,” he says, passing you a triangle.

Working in tandem, you make little progress. It’s like a puzzle with no directions. It’s frustrating to come to so many dead ends, and it’s starting to grate on Marc.

“I’m not getting any whole constellations, it’s just little pieces and fragments.” He slams his hands on the car and walks to the side.

“Marc,” you begin cautiously. “I think we may need Steven. I know you don’t want to, but he understands all of this. We need to give him a shot or we’ll be out here all night.”

Suddenly atop the car, Khonshu chuckles. “I summon the gods, you summon the worm. He won’t return the body.”

“Why do you feel the need to do that?” you grumble, heart rate slowing after the bird practically jumpscared you.

Marc grabs the side mirror before ripping it off and gathering the strips of cloth.

“What is it with you and mirrors?” you ask.

He pauses his irritated work and points to the broken mirror.

“I see Steven in reflections. Figure he’ll be happy about this.” He holds up the cloth.

Sighing, he walks away. “Alright,” he says. “Go ahead. You’re in.”

You can see the change before you hear the British accent.

Steven crouches down in the sand, ripping tape and assembling the scraps faster than you or Marc ever could have. You step closer, unsure of how he feels about you. You did lie about your job to him.

“Steven?” you ask, sitting down next to him. He looks up, momentarily taken aback. He stares for a bit, different from Marc’s half-lidded gaze. His eyes are wide, taking in every detail.

Well, every detail of you. But you don’t know that.

“Egyptians invented modern navigation,” he explains. “There’s not a lot of landmarks in the desert. So, they came up with a way to get about using the sun and stars. It’s bloody genius, innit?”

He holds up his work. A star.

You carefully take it, marveling at the cohesive map.

“Oh, woah, that’s amazing.” Steven blushes a bit at your words, but it goes unseen in the dark. “What do we do with it?”

“Well, I’m not sure, but if… Oh wait, hang on a minute.” He holds it up to the light. “You see that? You see those little pinpricks there? That’s a constellation.”

You nod. “Orion. We should be able to triangulate the stars into coordinates, right? Let me scan it.” With your phone, you pass over the star, letting it pick up the image.

“Well, um, actually… Unfortunately, it’s not that simple.” That much is revealed when nothing turns up. “Yeah, you see, Senfu marked that tomb, like 2,00 years ago. And stars drift over time. Not much as far as stars go, but it could mean the difference between us searching miles away from where we’re supposed to be looking.”

You pick up his insinuation. “So unless we know what the sky looked like on that date…”

“We’re buggered,” Steven finishes.

The god appears ahead of you, a warning before he speaks. “I remember that night. I remember every night.”

When he makes no movement, you and Steven begrudgingly head up the dune to meet him.

“I can turn back the night sky, but it will come at a cost.”

“Doesn’t it always,” you sigh.

He nods to Steven. “I cannot do it alone. Steven, when the gods imprison me, tell Marc to free me.”

Steven is wrapped in the same suit from before a few seconds later, eyes glowing. As the god raises his hand, he begins swiping it through the air. Steven mimics Khonshu’s motions, and before long, you gasp aloud.

The sky is spinning, whirling past as trails of stars blur together. The moon is little but glowing white dots, rapidly switching phases.

You’ve never seen something so beautiful.

“This is the night,” Khonshu says as the spinning stops, freezing the spiraling constellations on the night you were looking for.

“This is surprisingly painful,” Steven shouts.

You hurry to grab your phone, scanning the stars.

“I know, I’m sorry! But it’s working,” you call.

Khonshu collapses to his knees as Steven says, “I can feel my energy leaving me.” The head cover disappears as he loses control of the night sky. He reaches up again, holding it long enough for you to finish scanning.

“I got it! 29 degrees north, 25 east.” Steven collapses, and you tuck your phone away to hold him.

He crawls to you, coughing and trying to control his racing breaths. You help him stand, but it doesn’t do much. He faints as soon as you let go, falling face-first on the sand.

“Steven!” you shout.

“Hey, Steven?” No response. “Marc? Come on, idiots. Where are you? Marc, come on.”

You keep trying until you give up and start dragging the poor man across the sand, but it doesn’t last for long.

Headlights blind you as a car speeds toward the two of you. Shortly followed by gunfire.

“Shit, why do you have to be so heavy?” you grunt. “Oh my god, fine.” Reaching the top, you toss the body over the hill rather unceremoniously, racing down and hopping in the car.

The other car circles you as you duck down, grabbing any weapons you can find. The men step out and start inspecting Steven/Marc, and you take the opportunity to sneak out.

Striking up a flare, the red glow immediately catches their attention.

You hear them yelling before they make a sharp turn and start shooting again. You drop the flare and run around the other side, readying another.

Just as the truck pulls to a stop by the van, you run out, tossing the flaming signal onto the top of the bed, where there was plenty of ammunition just waiting to be exploded. It doesn’t take long for the fuse to spark.

It’s safe to say that you receive a small firework show, and both bodies tumble out with no sign of getting back up anytime soon. If at all.

When you turn around, you immediately shriek.

“OH MY GOD!”

Steven stares back at you, now completely fine and a bit confused.

“…What?” he asks.

You shove him lightly. “Don’t scare me like that, Иисус Христос [Jesus Christ]. I could’ve thrown a flare at you.”

Steven meekly apologizes and your anger dissipates, so you wave to the car.

“C’mon. We’d better get going if we’re going to catch up to Harrow.”

———————————————————————

By the time you’re almost at the tomb, the sun has begun to rise.

“We can’t lose more time,” you grumble finally, breaking the silence. “Harrow must be headed back to this tomb.”

You bite your lip, weighing your words on your tongue. “Listen, if he’s there, we’ll need Marc.”

“No,” Steven says.

You blink. “No?”

He shakes his head. “No. See, the thing is, we made a deal, Marc and I, that when he was done with Khonshu, he would disappear for good.”

Steven glances to the mirror where you figure Marc is yelling at him.

‘But that deal didn’t involve you getting (Y/N) and us killed. That’s not gonna fly with me.’

“You made a deal?” you ask, unaware of the words of the other alter. “That he would just, never come back? Never eat, sleep, live? I understand this is a complicated situation, but both of you belong in your body equally. Besides, that would mean he would also completely disappear from my life.” You add the last bit much quieter.

“What do you mean?”

You hesitate, gripping the wheel. “Yeah, well, the guy’s kinda grown on me. Both of you have.”

‘Steven, you’re gonna make her upset, stop. Give me the body.’

“Even if he would want to ‘lone wolf’ this whole thing,” you continue, waving your hand. “I’ve been there before, and I’m not going to let you dive into a suicide mission alone.”

Ignoring the frustrated man in the mirror, Steven nods. “Yep, it’s just you and me, and the open road.” You brake hard, stifling your amusement as he jolts forward.

“We’re gonna go on foot,” you say, more of an order than a suggestion. He agrees readily, and both of you trek through the narrow path to your destination.

The shadows are a welcome relief from the heat, yet every sound has you tense. Every bit of movement could be a sniper. Every crevice could hide a hitman.

“There.” You point down to a camp. “It looks like they’re already inside, so we need to find another way to beat them to- What’s its name?”

“Uh, Ammit. She eats dead people’s souls.”

“Great. Let’s check the camp.”

Steven heads into a tent, rifling through the belongings. It’s going well, at least until a glass table reflects Marc instead of himself.

‘You look scared.’

“I’m not.”

‘You should be.’ Marc gives a wry grin that’s barely visible on the glass. ‘Without Khonshu, there’s no more suit, no more healing, no more power.’

Steven shines a flashlight directly into his eyes and blinks away the dancing spots. “Yeah, and no more you. I thought. It’s what you said, innit? But believing anything that comes out of your mouth just shows what a plonker I am.”

‘Look, I wish I could just disappear, I really do. But unfortunately, I’m still here. If you’re gonna go through with this, you gotta be smart.’ Marc hesitates a bit. ‘For (Y/N)’s sake. I’ve been in situations like this before.’

Steven shrugs. “So have I. It’s the same body, innit? It’s in there somewhere. Muscle memory and all that.” Marc rolls his eyes from the desk.

‘Yeah, I’m not sure it works that way. Just-’

“Oh, whatever,” Steven huffs, cutting him off.

‘I’m here,’ Marc calls, voice permanently in Steven’s head, even as he tries to walk away. ‘You’re not alone.’

“I know I’m not alone! I know I’m bloody not alone, I’ve got (Y/N). She’s got my back.”

Marc’s snide response shocks both of them. ‘Oh, are you in love?’ he calls. ‘You’re gonna get all of us killed.’

“And you don’t love her?” Steven snaps back, stomping down his flustered-ness to prod at the other man. “Look, I appreciate your concern, mate, I really do. But we’ve got it from here.”

As he eagerly hurries out of the tent, Marc yells from a mirror.

‘If you touch her, I swear to you, Steven. I swear, I’ll throw us off a cliff!’

Meanwhile, searching the camp, you freeze when something catches your eye. A bloodied tool, but not something modern. It’s old as fuck, from what you can tell. But the blood is fresh. Like someone stole this from the tomb and stabbed the nearest person with little regard to the trail they’d leave.

Blood covers the nearby crates. Only more reason to get out of the open.

Charging up your Widow Bites, you head to the entry point where Steven is waiting. You quickly start putting on his harness, trying to ignore how close you are by constantly glancing over your shoulder.

“I have to say, I feel like I’ve been waiting for this my whole life,” he excitedly whispers. “The adventure, I mean.” Not surprising. His love for Egyptology makes this basically the most dangerous yet exciting field study ever.

You smile. “Yeah. We want what we’ve never had.” Tightening the buckles, you can’t help but notice his breath ghosting over your cheek. “You know, family, freedom. Relationships…”

There’s a moment of connection. Your eyes meet and you don’t look away.

He’d be really easy to kiss. You know he would be. And a part of you really wants to. But not right now.

You cough a bit and look away, grabbing some gloves as you clip his harness on the rope.

“I will go down first,” you manage, voice quieter than usual. “Before I belay.”

“Yeah, of course,” Steven says. “What’s belay?”

You chuckle and wordlessly drop, reaching the bottom with little issue. What you don’t see is Marc summoning enough control to punch Steven directly in the face, partially for almost kissing you and partially for not doing it.

Underground, the oppressive heat finally relents and you let out a puff of air.

Grabbing your flashlight, you scan the room and run a finger along the dirt atop the sphinx hidden in the dark.

Before you know it, you’ve traced the signature hourglass of the Red Room.

“Shit,” you whisper. Before you can focus on it for too long, shouting from behind you causes you to whip around.

Steven tumbles down the entrance, falling flat on his back with a grunt. You help him up, dusting him off a bit.

“There you go,” you chuckle.

He blushes a bit. “I kinda wish you hadn’t seen that.” You shrug, smiling.

He glances up, eyes widening. “Oh, wow, look at you…” It’s your turn to blush now, almost giggling at the feeling in your chest before you notice that he’s looking at the sphinx, not you.

“Oh, yeah. They really are… gorgeous, aren’t they?” You’re staring at Steven as you speak. “They’re just, they’ve been standing guard for centuries.”

He nods excitedly. “Right! Look, I just- If they sprang to life right now and asked me a riddle for passage, I’d be thrilled. I’d shit myself,” he adds, “but I’d be thrilled.”

“Did… did you do this?” Steven asks, pointing to the hourglass drawing.

Reluctantly, you nod.

“Force of habit… the… The Red Room protocol was to leave the emblem wherever we went. A subtle reminder that Dreykov’s power went beyond borders.” You gesture to the symbol. “A reminder that he was all-powerful.”

You chuckle ruefully, pointing to the symbol. “Even without the pheromone lock, without his agents, he’s still controlling me.”

Steven notices the way you’re voice has quieted, how your usually-relaxed posture has slumped in on itself.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, as if the stone sphinx can hear him.

In an instant, you’re brushing it off.

“Yeah. No, it’s fine, really,” you say, confident once more and hurriedly striding down the dark hallway.

The path twists and turns, disorienting you until you freeze in a small room.

“It’s a maze,” you huff.

Steven can’t help his quip. “It’s a-maze-ing.”

“No,” you snort before pointing around. “Like, there are six paths.”

The man behind you starts muttering to himself as you scan the room. A familiar smell lingers in the air, one you would know anywhere, even if it is hidden by the smell of sand and dust.

Gunpowder.

A few bullet shells lie in the sand.

“What were they shooting at?” you whisper. No one else should be here except Harrow’s dig team.

Steven begins tracing on the center table, much like you had. When you notice a shape forming, you step closer to inspect it.

“This whole structure is the Eye of Horus,” he says. “Look at that. It’s the royal symbol, protection in the afterlife.”

You nod, keeping up with the research you’d done. “But, the resources needed…” The epiphany hits you. “Ammit’s final avatar was a pharaoh.”

“Woah, a bloody pharaoh,” Steven gasps.

“So, do you think this is a map?” you ask, not wanting to disturb the drawing.

“Right. The Eye of Horus is also the eye of the mind, yeah? Representing the six senses, six points. The eyebrow denotes thoughts. Pupil, sight, obviously.”

He continues pointing about the shape. “This point here is, uh, hearing. Smell, touch. And this long line ending in a spiral, is the tongue.”

“An avatar would be Ammit’s voice,” you mutter.

Both of you turn to the corresponding tunnel at once, heading down it together. It ends in an open room, still very musty smelling but less claustrophobic than the previous areas.

You explore for only a few seconds before Steven’s gagging.

“Oh my- Oh my god, is that fresh blood?” he manages. “Isn’t that little chunks of meaty bits?”

You nod in affirmation, really hoping he doesn’t hurl. That’s when you notice canopic jars, very full of organs and coated in very fresh blood. It hasn’t even crusted.

Another bloodied tool lies on the operating table.

You’d read about doctors and sorcerers buried with a pharaoh to protect him from intruders, but this? Checking down the exit hallway, you only see a thick trail of blood.

“Okay, okay,” you hiss, glancing up to the secondary level. “Steven, there might be a way out up there, go check.”

He clambers up with a bit of help from you, wood creaking and echoing around the stone walls.

“So, according to the ancient texts, Ammit should be bound to an ushabti, a little stone statue thingy.” You let him geek out a bit before gunfire stops your heart right in its tracks.

“Harrow,” you say, just loud enough for Steven to hear.

“What are they shooting at?”

You don’t have time to respond when a sickening clicking sound comes from right outside the door.

“Hide. Hide,” Steven calls.

With nowhere to go, you duck down by the table.

The clicking grows ever closer until you spot something, mangled and grotesque, tossing a barely-alive digger onto the stone surface.

The stabbing and squelching sound that follows is enough for you to know that some more jars are about to be filled.

In all honesty, you’ve heard worse, so you silently exhale and try to stay as still as possible.

That plan gets shot the moment you shift and bump a jar.

Wincing, you silently shift away from the table, steadying your breathing as the clicking grows more aggressive. From Steven’s hiding spot, a loud creak rises up and the creature -whatever is it is- jumps atop the table to search for the source of the sound.

You can hear it start climbing the wall, fighting to get to Steven. And that just won’t do.

With a click of a button, you fire off an electrical blast from your gauntlets. It stuns the mummified man, who falls to the table.

Steven shouts with a force you’ve never heard from him and topples a shelf, effectively crushing it.

“I squished it. I squished it,” he whispers.

“Yes,” you say, forcing an encouraging tone. “You definitely squished it, now come on.”

He clambers down the ledge with no semblance of grace, and you take his hand, rushing through the hallway to want you hope will be your destination.

As you’re stepping across shattered stones, a grin finally forms on your face.

This is it. The walls are lined with hieroglyphs, gilded statues line the chamber.

And a sarcophagus lies in the center, water surrounding it.

“Oh, my days,” Steven whispers. “First ones in. Tomb fit for a pharaoh. Thutmose II, Nefertiti, it’s gotta be one of the big ones.”

You point to the sarcophagus, eyes narrowing.

“Steven?”

“Yeah?”

“Those aren’t hieroglyphs. That’s…”

You speak at the same time. “Macedonian.”

He mutters to himself, inspecting the writing. Thoughts spilling out as his mouth races to keep up with his mind.

“I think we’re looking at the long-lost tomb of Alexander the Great,” he concludes. You understand why he’s excited, but a part of you also knows that now is not the time. Not when you’re in a time crunch.

Setting your hands on the lid, you nod for Steven to join you.

“Everything inside me is, like, screaming not to open this thing,” he says nervously.

“Well, it’s either us or Harrow. Your pick.” You know it’s a bit unfair, but it works.

He sets his hands by yours, bracing himself.

You raise a brow. “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

[wildpeachfarm]

I am fully on the side of George wasn’t being malicious and honestly I don’t believe he sexually assaulted her. But I feel like everyone has kinda stopped feeling any sympathy for Caiti. I think she actually really has trauma from this and was uncomfortable but didn’t know that she had her own body autonomy to move or tell him to take his hand off. She’s probably been getting so much shit in her comments and that’s why she privated everything. I don’t know why she hasn’t streamed maybe she was expecting everyone to be on her side and now that not everyone is she doesn’t know where to go or maybe she’s just idk planning what she wants to say.

I genuinely think some of yall have to give Caiti more grace with this

I understand that caiti might have deeper issues which is why she reacted like that, however she needs to understand that stealing SA language to paint a horrific and very inaccurate picture of george during that first stream genuinely made it so much worse. And lying by omission by not mentioning the cuddling AT ALL, and then ghostie contradicting her story, and then the mess with the text screenshot being fake/incorrect just really makes it worse which I think is what is making people upset at her.

at least for me, I always keep a reminder in the back of my head that she clearly was upset on that stream and this clearly affected her in some way, but she also made a ton of mistakes when dealing with this and I just want to see her even attempt to correct that y'know? I want her to heal and be done with this, but also not act like she didn't make her own mistakes as well

[sharpth1ng]

I need to blow up Mr. Hank Loomis so bad. I'm ripping him to shreds with my mind. I don't like when people say Maureen is the reason Scream happened because it's HANK'S fault. fuck that guy

Yeah honestly the Maureen blaming feels like some unexamined misogyny. They were both cheating. Maureen is the only one that dies because of it.

Also like. Neither Maureen nor Hank is the reason scream happened. It’s either Billy and Stu or Roman depending on how you see it. No one forced them to do that. They chose to react to Hank and Maureen’s infidelity with murder. “My girlfriends mommy is a homewrecker” is not a defence that’s going to hold up in court.

Beyond that Maureen’s only crime is cheating, and in both fanon and canon Billy is also guilty of that (it’s either Stu or Christina). Like if you’re going to hate Maureen for cheating then it feels a bit hypocritical not to hate Billy for the same.

Idk from what we know I think I would have liked Maureen more than Hank as well. Sid seems to have had a positive relationship with her but Billy seems to want nothing to do with Hank.

Maureen was also a scream queen when she was younger like, that’s rad? The titles we get for the movies she was in make them sound like some pretty wild B-movies: Amazombies, Space Psychos and Creatures from the San Andreas Fall. These sound like movies Stu would LOVE.

I also just have some sympathy for Maureen with her past, so much of her backstory is defined by brutal sexual coercion and assault from the time she was 18. Cheating is obviously not good, but also like, she got together with Neil at the age of 21. Prior to that it seems like her experiences were mostly not consensual.

It was the early 70s, I can’t imagine that she felt like she had a lot of choices. The idea that she would have consensual affairs later in life is unfortunate but also not surprising. I think a lot of people who get married young can end up having this realization later in life that they want to experience things they haven’t, and those are the kinds of things you can regret on your deathbed.

As far as we know she’s a stay at home mom, she has no ability to support herself without Neil. From her perspective the options were probably: get a divorce, split up her family, make herself financially destitute, and have a chance to experience the things that were robbed from her when she was younger, OR stay with Neil and die eventually wondering what she missed out on, OR have an affair and hopefully keep her family together.

So yeah. Cheating? Not good, not excusable. But also relatively understandable in my opinion.

And yeah in terms of Hank we don’t know the most about him from canon, but we know how Billy reacts to him, and we know how Billy and Nancy both are: they’re sexist slut-shamers. Like, Nancy blaming Sid for what Billy did? You can hate Sidney but come on, you can’t argue that his actions were actually justified. All of this tells me that Hank’s views are probably in line with Nancy and Billy’s. Billy had to learn it somewhere right? Misogyny isn’t genetic.

So yeah that’s my monologue. Tldr: hate Maureen if you want, that’s fine, but blaming the Scream murders on her doesn’t make much sense. If you need a villain Hank is right there, and either way the real villains are Billy and Stu.

You can still like them even if they suck, I promise, they’re fictional characters. You don’t need to shift the blame for their actions onto other characters to justify liking them.

[whumpsoda]

imagine Nevan having a want, a need of sorts. Darius wouldn’t care of course, but Adrastus spots it simmering beneath the surface and invites the thrall to state his need, without any punishment, but also without guarantee that it could be accommodated.

Nevan fights it at first but after Ad commands it via thrall he finally whispers that he wished Malak was less enthralled so he could have someone to talk to—like he had been when he was sick. a disgustingly selfish need on Nevan’s end that he fully expects to be punished for suggesting.

idk what happens next but I doubt Adrastus would be angry, perhaps having sympathy for the thrall while remaining firm that Malak would remain the way he is(??)

WOHEO Masterlist cw: hypnosis, captivity, servant whump, vampire whumper

———————————————————————

“Something wrong, dear?”

It was obvious to the vampire that something just had to be poking at the man’s usually muddled brain. From Nevan’s furrowed brows to his lack of concentration, his mind was clearly elsewhere.

Adrastus had been aiding him in washing some of the thrall’s dishes, bored of sitting around endlessly with nothing to do. The kitchen was tainted with a pinch of awkward air, but neither seemed to mind too much.

Nevan blinked hard, catching himself and swiftly continuing to scrub the dish between his fingers, flustered. “Um… no, no, of course not, master.”

“Nothing troubling you? Nothing at all?” They pressed, leisurely scraping food scraps into the sink.

Adrastus wasn’t an idiot. Of course he’d say no. He’d probably learned very quickly that his own master was in no way fond of entertaining the feelings of a thrall. A bit sad, if you asked them.

“No, sir.”

They sighed. “Nevan,” he stopped as they turned to face him, avoiding eye contact and biting his lip. “Do not lie to me. If something is the matter, tell me.”

For a moment, he hesitated. “Everything is, is fine, master. Nothing… nothing is wrong.”

“Love, I don’t appreciate you hiding things. I’m not going to punish you for whatever you have to say, I swear on it.”

“Master, I’m, I’m fine!”

They placed a hand to his exposed shoulder, rubbing their thumb over his lush skin. “Shhh, darling, you can trust me. You can trust master, I would never hurt you.”

Their smile only hardened as they noticed him easily slipping under their luscious control, eyes going glassy and muscles relaxing under their sweet, sweet touch. How utterly adorable. “Master… I… I’m fine…”

“You trust master oh, so much. You trust me with every single thought in that little mind of yours, even the bad ones. Master just wants to help you. Master can help you.”

He carefully dropped his plate to the counter, body swaying with silky ease and calm. “I’m… I…”

“C’mon, baby. You can tell Master. You want to tell Master.” Their aura was amping up with hypnotic force, tugging his secret right out from under him.

“I… I wish…”

“Nevan. Tell me.”

His voice fell to a soft whisper as his relent snapped into a shatter of tiny pieces. “I, I wish Malak was… awake. Like me. So, so I could have someone to talk to… like when he was sick.”

“Oh.”

How pitiful.

Yet, how utterly and undeniably endearing at the same time.

“Oh, dear.” Adrastus’ grin faded, falling into that of a compassionate pout. Pulling Nevan into a tight embrace they dug their head into his chest, contact he fully melted into.

After a moment of pleasant, warm hugging, Adrastus pulled the thrall to their level, cupping his chin. “I… understand that. Yes, I could see why you’d yearn for such a thing.”

Their heart split just the tiniest bit at the glimmer in his eye, like he dumbly believed they would consider such a thing. It was silly, really, but only made him ten times cuter. “Though, I’m sorry little love, I just can’t ease up on him like that. He needs such a heavy spell to quell his ever present anxiousness and messy mind. He needs it to feel good.”

“You understand, don’t you?”

“Yes… master…” his words were coated with dissatisfaction and disappointment, but still muddled with daze. So eager to please, he was, even when had he been more conscious he would’ve easily argued.

They would never let that happen.

Adrastus’ grin returned in full, almost as if it had never left. “Good, good. Such a good boy, you.” They tussled his hair, sending his mind reeling and his dopily happy expression to return as well. “Now, just remember, you can always tell me anything else your little mind stirs up, alright? No judgement here, baby.”

“Oh- okay. Of course… sir. Tell… tell you… anything…”

They chuckled, pecking him right on the forehead and whispering beside his susceptible ear. “Such an obedient thrall. Just splendid.”

In that of a flash their demeanor flipped, patting the thrall on the cheek and awakening him from their trance. “Now, back to your chores you go, darling!” Nevan quickly picked back up his task, this time with complete focus and attention like always.

Before they let the conversation go and risk the talk washing right out from Nevan’s memory, Adrastus leaned in close just one more time. “Then make sure you go spend some time playing with your little friend, okay?”

———————————————————————

Taglist- @softvampirewhump @iys-cloud @battyfantasy @xx-adam-xx @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @mylifeisonthebookshelf

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[youreonyourown-kid]

I saw Blink Twice and thought it was really good! Some thoughts:

I don’t understand the big controversy about a trigger warning. It’s fine that it’s there, but I feel like ratings are also supposed to be trigger warnings if you want to know the scale of violence depicted. And like it’s a horror movie? Where a group of women in particular are in danger by powerful men?? What do you think is gunna happen????

I can never date men why did Channing Tatum saying ‘I’m not gunna kill you, you’re my best friend’ make me go ‘aww’. Something wrong with me I stg

Also the older I get the more I see how much women/young girls are kinda taught to go after men who are much bigger/stonger/richer/older/more powerful and how dangerous that actually is.

And I get the point of Geena Davis’s character. But idk man. I always have a lot of sympathy for older women; even when they are not ‘girls girls’ (to put it mildly in this case). Like they got any crumbs they have by being cut throat; putting down the knife because they’re told “look there’s room for all of us now let’s be friends!” Must go against every instinct they have.

The sound design was a little distracting sometimes. Someone should not blink that loudly.

Also way too many close ups for no reason. Like it wasn’t pervy close ups like can sometimes happen in horror movies. And Naomi Ackie is beautiful. But I don’t really get why or what the purpose was.

Perfect use of ‘I’m that Gir’ by Beyoncé. Justice for Renaissance

Ending was great but I do wish we got a little idea of what ‘Survivor’ girl ended up doing. Head cannoning that she just decided to stay on the island and become feral.

Solid directorial debut by Zoe Kravitz. She’s up there with Willow as one of the nepo babies I respect that actually seem to care about the stuff they put out and but effort into it.

ALL IN ALL I LIKED IT. Fully recommend looking up what people are saying about it and deciding if you need spoilers. Like for all my talk about ratings/it being a horror movie I DID look up spoilers before hand for my own well being. The way people talked about it made me worried, so maybe that’s why TO ME it wasn’t as bad as it was made out to be.

[creatura-theanarchist]

So like… yall mind if I rant about having Alexithymia?

For those who don’t know, Alexithymia is a disability that makes it so you have a hard time feeling your emotions and understanding other’s’ emotions, and also because of this you have a hard time empathizing with people. Additionally apparently 1 in 5 ppl with autism have Alexithymia (such like myself).

Sometimes I find it hard to just EXIST as someone who has this dude, cuz everyone just… expects you to understand people’s emotions?? Entirely??? Like on sight???? Idk it’s weird man. It’s especially hard when people who know still expect you to be able to, even though I literally can’t??? Like tf am I supposed to do???? This all kinda led to whenever I’m trying to help ppl with issues, I always default to rationalizing because it’s kinda the only thing I can do, but I know sometimes people need more than me telling them “That’s not true!”.

Another problem is people misunderstanding what “a lack of empathy” means. Firstly, I’m not unfeeling. I still care deeply for my friends and loved ones, I just can’t cross that socio-emotional bridge, y’know? Secondly, I can still sympathize with people, which yes, they are two different things. Empathy is being able to feel other people’s feelings. Crying when someone else is sad, becoming enraged when someone’s angry etc., Sympathy is just feeling for another person’s situation.

My whole process with when someone shares bad news or something they’re going through is basically:

Person: My dog died.

Me: Ah, that’s bad, I’m sorry you’re going through that.

What was this post exactly? Idk, I guess sometimes I feel like my existence is a bit anachronistic… I’m someone who cares for people, and yet I can barely connect with anyone… feels lonely, like I’m some monster, yk?

Idk, anyways, thanks for reading these ramblings, kind stranger! I love you <3

[hxhhasmysoul]

As a writer, can you see the appeal of self-shipping? I don't mean to be negative, but I just don't understand that concept. Like, I just got block because I wrote fics about Endeavor/Hakws and Sukuna/Yuuji by my group of fics writers.

Before I was blocked some member criticize me by saying "how could you ship age gap like that, that is wrong in so many way". And I answered, "at least better like me than wrote self shipping like some of you guys. Gojo/reader and Sukuna/reader is just weird in so many ways". Then I was blocked.

Do you think I'm wrong?

Idk if this will answer your question, anon. I hope it's not too rambly and at least a bit helpful.

I have never considered self-shipping from the perspective of being a writer, but that makes sense to me, I only write things that I want to read and can't find, or not find enough of.

And self-shipping doesn't appeal to me as a reader. The second person makes me uncomfortable as a pov, possibly due to my history of abuse. My abuser very often assumed what I must've thought in a given situation and berated me for it and didn't accept me telling her what I actually thought. The second person pov feels too much to me like a stranger trying to tell me what I'm thinking.

This is also why I hate people policing ships in any way, because it’s always assuming what is in a stranger’s head based on confusing discomfort and lack of understanding with morality, and often based on some strange inability to separate fiction from reality. It's very far right fundie coded.

As much as a lot of stuff doesn't appeal to me, including self-shipping and several other things, some of them generally uncontroversial, it doesn't have to appeal to me because people enjoy whatever they enjoy and I can't care less about it. If it makes me uncomfortable like the second person pov or abo or real person shipping, I just avoid reading it. And I also don't have to understand why it appeals to people, it's their thing. 

Nowadays I try not to tell people that they are weird or wrong for doing stuff that is a personal preference. Shipping or most other fandom activity isn't activism or a reflection of someone's character but a personal preference. It only turns into a mark of character when people use fandom to express or try to hide their bigotry. Or use it as an excuse for actual harassment. 

Basically it's okay to find things weird, or react with discomfort. But I've learned to interrogate my repulsion or discomfort. And often it stems from internalised societal or cultural bull shit, that is about policing people and trying to fit everyone into some artificial norm. It doesn’t mean that understanding the roots of your reaction must lead you to liking the thing, but it might help you remove the value judgement. One of the best skills to have is: thinking “this is not for me” and moving on to things you actually like. I’m working really hard on honing this skill. 

For me it’s very freeing to just accept that everyone experiences the world differently and has different needs and as long as their need isn’t to harm others then it’s okay not to understand them and just say okay and move on. You can’t have all the experiences, a lot of stuff people will talk about will never be relatable because their life experience is so incomparable to yours. It’s best to accept that understanding everything and everyone is impossible but also unnecessary.  You don’t need to give everything your mental energy.

As to the person blocking you. Good riddance, they will thankfully not expose you to their shitty opinions anymore. They acted in a shitty way towards you and then couldn’t take a strong reply from you. I’m of the opinion that one should only start shit if they are ready to get the same kind of energy back. I feel no sympathy for them.

Also I’m a huge supporter of blocking people, I block at least one person every time I go into the JJK tags. Either for tag spamming or not tagging so my tag blocking doesn’t work, or just for shitty opinions so I don’t have to see them and sigh.

And their opinion is shit because shipping isn’t wrong or problematic, it’s just people imagining things. What's problematic in the JJK fandom is the racism, the misogyny, the transphobia, the harassment, the graphic vitriol towards the author and so on.