turbulentlabs

[lenreli]

The Red Line

[AO3]

E, 6.3k. Hob gets a new life - and a new job. Dream begins to appreciate it, in his own way.

-

Dream steps into the Waking, more following Hob’s presence on the Earth, steadfast for centuries ― and looks around, Canadian wilderness reaching his senses. Hob did say, last time they met, that he’s overdue faking his death. 

Blinking, he knocks on the door in front of him, once. He knows Hob’s not asleep, and still Dream worries if he’s intruding, even with the way Hob had said― 

“My friend!” Hob beams, the door opened while Dream was pondering, “come in, come in!” Hob says brightly, gesturing him in with an arm. “This’ll be the first time I’ve seen you outside of jolly ol’ Landon, actually,” Hob says, excitement all but palpable as Dream looks around at the small house, Hob talking more about other places he’s lived in. Hob’s swearing a knitted sweater and jeans, matching the rustic insides of his new home. 

And Hob talks about ― friends he misses, moving to Canada, and so on. With no mention of his job, which Hob is usually happy to tell him about. “And what of your job?” At that, Hob pauses, “or have you decided to not get one this time?”

“No, still many things I want to do,” Hob says, voice suddenly quieter, and Dream frowns, unused to the other’s almost―evasiveness. 

Dream gives Hob a narrow look, suspicious. “Do you have an abhorrent trade, like in 178―”

“No! Never again! Definitely not!” Hob shouts, arms in the air as he shakes his head, eventually sinking into his blue sofa with a sigh. “No, not. It’s just. I don’t know. We’re not the friends to talk about this, and I don’t know how you’d react, so I haven’t,” Hob mumbles. 

Dream keeps silent as Hob pulls at the edge of his sweater, and eventually Hob heaves a sigh. 

“Fine. I’ll bite the bullet. I’m a sexline operator,” Hob says and Dream blinks, unsure what the problem with speaking about is, as he searches the subconscious for Hob’s new job. “I dunno, we’ve never talked about that before, and the prudishness of this century probably got to me a bit. I talk people into giving themselves orgasms, and it’s fun,” Hob mutters, shrugging as he explains. 

“I fail to see the problem.”

Hob laughs and rubs his face, “of course. Just ― weird human customs. My new job is usually more of a raunchy punchline or scandalous, terrible thing for some people.” 

“It’s not the worst job you’ve had,” he points out, and Hob laughs again, a bit more manic. 

“That bar’s in the Earth’s core, Dream,” Hob says, face hidden by a hand. “The literal fucking burning lava core,” Hob grouses, and Dream follows Hob into a small kitchen, windows letting light in as Hob puts on an electric kettle, leaning against the kitchen counters. “It’s been a thing, getting used to living here, and my new job, which is a more night-shift job than I was used to with teaching. At least seeing you again is helping with all that.” 

Dream swallows, emotions sticking in his body at the way Hob’s smiling at him, that he’s helped Hob. “I am here to help.” 

Hob laughs again, shaking his head as he gets a mug and a teabag. “Not just as your entire thing, but you, as my friend,” Hob clarifies. “Didn’t even realise how weird I was getting in my head until you popped in.” 

“You are the most normal man alive,” he replies dryly as the kettle whistles, and Dream smothers the smile he can feel as Hob laughs once more. 

=

Dream ― hasn’t been curious, knows what it requires, on a sexline. A discreet orgasm, or a filthy one, operators being given prompts, or not, until the one who pays is satisfied. 

However, he’d like to know, Hob on a sexline is a different thing, one he can’t help thinking about idly. And so, slipping into the Waking, into Hob’s new house, which is ― quiet. Soundlessly, he walks around until he reaches a closed door. The study, Hob showed him, and Hob behind the doors, imagining waking up early to go to the market. 

And Hob is speaking, words muffled by the door, so he leans closer, ear to the door ― and Hob may be thinking about market produce, meeting vendors, but the words are filthy, talking to someone. 

A woman, matching that voice to―strong hands, pressing inside herself, all the right spots as he moans, Hob’s speech rolling over her in waves of pleasure as she imagines. 

The door is cold against his body, but Dream’s only half-there as he makes the man’s hands coarser, marks and scars of Hob’s hands, hairier as she gasps. Closing his eyes, Dream smoothes out the man in her imagination ― green eyes changed to brown, grey at his temples, stubble and body hair, as the man ― Hob ― speaks to her to come, coaxing her along softly. 

Suddenly, the lack of imagination, daydream having served its purpose leaving him against the cold door, body hot as he listens to Hob laughing, him and the woman talking. And Dream wants to―phase through the door, has a hand on it, melt through the flimsy wood to reach Hob, body aching in arousal. 

Pressing his cheek to the refreshingly cold wood, he stops as the call ends and there’s a sigh. There’s shuffling around, and soon footsteps, a shadow moving to the door and Dream moves away with a soundless step as Hob starts to open it.

Hands twitching, he steps back again before going back to the Dreaming.

-

It happens again. Dream in front of the study, door shut as Hob speaks into the phone on the other side. He can’t even muster up any internal protests, that he was sure that Hob would be free, and not like some part of Dreaming wasn’t dedicated to keeping an eye on the time, on when Hob wouldn’t be working or sleeping. 

The door is cool as he touches it, pressing his ear against the door as Hob’s voice washes over him ― and in another province, a man is hearing the same voice. 

This time, Hob is vaguely thinking of pale skin and dark hair― 

Dream moves his focus to the other man, insides hot as the man fingers himself, Hob’s voice making him whine as he has vague images in his mind, nothing concrete and more focused on Hob’s voice. 

And he can’t help it, tweaks the vague image into Hob’s visage and the man whimpers as he imagines Hob going inside, and Dream shivers, can feel it in the imaginings of it. The man comes with a cry and Dream stares at the wood of the door, can feel it under his nails with how hard he’s grabbing it, body pulsing in arousal but unable to end it, just out of reach. 

Dream takes an unneeded breath as he thinks of melting through the door, where Hob is now laughing with the man, wanting to, wanting to feel more than illusory touch, can go insane with wanting the reality of it― 

No. he forces himself back, can only see the trail of ruin that’d leave Hob hating him, as he steps back into the Dreaming.

-

“Uh, boss,” Matthew says and Dream looks up from his census, then pauses, taking a moment before he stands up from the steps. Hovering in front of him, a large bubble, the transparency of it showing a red phone box, glass-panelled windows and a phone ringing.

Reaching out, he relaxes, can feel Hob’s ― daydream, behind it. “It is my friend,” he says softly, smiling as he walks into the bubble, and he pauses as he’s encased in warmth. Matthew and the throne room melt away as he opens the box, phone ringing still as he closes it. Reaching out, the phone stops as he picks it up, putting it to his ear. “Hob?”

“Woah,” on the other side of the line, Hob breathes, voice crackling as Dream presses the phone more against his ear. “Wasn’t sure that’d work. That’s really you?” Hob asks, voice getting slowly more excited. 

“It is. Matthew alerted me to ― you,” he frowns, the daydream brightening in vibrancy with Hob’s excitement, a joyful sound coming from the other side of the phone. 

“I dunno, I’ve been using phones so much lately with work, and so I thought what if. Well. This,” Hob says, voice crackling over the line and Dream smiles, happy to hear from him ― and reminding him guiltily, of why he hasn’t visited lately, “and like, I’m getting new friends here of course, and getting used to it all, and I just hope you’re not too busy with, uh. All that you do.” 

Dream sighs, resting against the glass behind him, “I am sorry, I―”

“No, it's fine! I get it, you’re a busy, hard-working entity and before we only met every century! Even with us being friends and everything―”

“Hob,” he cuts in, smiling as Hob stops, “I am glad you called,” he says, and Hob lets out a sigh, can feel the warmth of Hob’s home, his presence of the daydream around him, a balm for his tired self. 

“Didn’t even call for anything important. Just that I found a place that sells the best poutine I’ve ever tasted. Have you had poutine?” Hob asks and Dream can’t stop his smile, bright emotions fizzling inside him at the inane question. 

“I have not,” he answers. 

“It’s really good,” Hob says, words trailing into a groan, making Dream feel slight heat at the sound caused by the memory of good food,  “one time when you’re here we’re going to get poutine. Also, the moose here are insane. Recently I saw one as big as a car and it was so beautiful. And terrifying. Was just walking down the road! This is why I love moving all the time!” 

Dream looks down, fingers curling around the red curled line of the phone as he listens to Hob talk.

-

Somehow, Hob’s house always feels so welcoming, the immortal somehow infusing his home in the short time he’s lived there, compared to The New Inn, as well as the flat he had nearby in London. As Dream sits on the sofa, he can feel himself unwinding as Hob gets a cup of tea, the book he was reading left flat on the coffee table, revealing the summary and Dream hums at the sci-fi. “Aren’t you usually doing something at this time?” 

Hob lets out a sound, partly indecisive and partly thoughtful, “I do plan on going to a music festival tomorrow, so I’m getting things ready since I’ll be out all day,” Hob offers as the kettle whistles, and Dream blinks as Hob comes back over, sitting next to him and getting a coaster on the table to put his cup on. “Planning to go with some friend’s, so it’s just like. Water, and money, especially for merch and food,” he shrugs. 

“What type of music?” 

“Metal festival! Speaking of, I need to figure out my―wait, you can help me decide!” Hob says, getting up and rushing to his room, and Dream smiles, staring at the cooling mug on the table. 

“Your tea is cooling,” he points out as Hob moves around in his room, eventually coming out with a pile of clothes in an arm, as he pointedly stares at him before drinking half the mug. Hob’s throat working is ― mesmerizing, and Dream can’t make himself look away as he has half-thoughts of touching the other’s beard. 

“Okay!” Hob says and Dream doesn’t twitch, mind still stuck on the edge of the other’s stubble on his throat to notice that he’s moved back, holding up a mesh shirt and ripped jeans in one hand, “so, this?” Hob tugs out his other clothes, revealing a dark blue shirt and a different pair of trousers, black with studs and chains, “or this?” 

Dream tilts his head, thinking about the choices, “the first one.” 

Hob beams, nodding as he puts the clothes back into his room. “See, that’s what I was thinking too. Plus one of my leather jackets, since it’ll be cold, but also I will be in the moshpit, but eh,” Hob mumbles, voice lowering in frequency as he comes back out, sitting near him as he drinks the rest of his tea. “I’m so excited!”

“I can tell,” he replies dryly, and Hob’s brightness doesn’t even dim as he picks up his book, practically vibrating next to him. 

-

He does try to come after the festival. 

He doesn’t try hard enough as he stares at the closed door, can hear Hob’s low voice, muffled but getting clearer as he presses against the door. “And I would,” Hob pauses, and Dream tenses in anticipation ― and on the other end of the line, a man lets out a small whine, close to the edge from Hob’s voice. “Eventually, I’d let you come.” 

The man whines and Dream shivers, can almost feel the firmness of Hob’s voice in his body as he takes an unneeded breath. 

“The anticipation of it, it’d be worth it, don’t you think?” Hob asks, and the man agrees blindly. Dream swallows, body flooded with arousal. “I’d take you to the edge, again and again, until your mind is nothing but me, the way you’d beg for it,” Hob continues, voice dropping even lower as the man cries out ― and Hob thinks of pale skin, daydreams of― 

Dream forces himself out of it, would be sure that his face would be a fierce red if ― the wood doing nothing to cool him down as he presses into it, a hand lightly gripping the wood. There’s the taste of it on his tongue, like he can replace it with Hob’s confident words, the ease he can feel from the other side of the door. 

“Please,” the man begs, sobbing in a way that Dream can feel, wants to be the one crying it out. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get what you want. You’re touching yourself for me, aren’t you?” Hob breathes and the man lets out a cry and blurbled yes. “Just relax into it, into my voice,” Hob soothes and Dream shudders, a hand reaching into his robe as he soundlessly pants against the door. “Follow the flow, you don’t want to resist.” 

The man keens, mindless and full of Hob’s voice ― like Dream. Who wants to reach through the door and hang Hob up, wants those low tones focused on him, as he strokes himself, can feel how close to the edge he is― 

―Of making a mess of Hob’s door, and the thought is cold water as he pulls himself away, taking his hand off himself as he forces himself back to the Dreaming.

-

Dream doesn’t keep a solid track of time, but even he knows that this is a bad day. Pinched annoyance at himself for not visiting Hob, basking in the comforts of his home ― and not when he’s working, and so just sticks to the Dreaming. 

And today, an envoy of planets and galaxies, relatively small, which is the only good thing over all the fake politeness and the exhausting politicking. 

The bubble appearing to life in the room is the icing on the cake, Hob’s daydream-call as the celestial bodies look over at the phone box with worry. “It is nothing,” he grounds out, and feels even more exhausted as he pops the bubble, crunching it into nothing.

After, he promises himself as he forces the conversation back on track, and Dream feels vaguely like screaming.

-

It’s days before he shows up at Hob’s ― reasonably sure that Hob’s not working as he knocks on the front door. Dream feels tense, every non-existent bone in his body clenched as he waits, and as he thinks that Hob’s gone out, the door opens. “Dream!” Hob smiles and ushers him in, and it feels like his teeth grind less as he enters the other’s home. 

“I apologise. For not taking your call,” he recites stiffly as he sits, and Hob freezes, then smiles, sitting next to him, warmth radiating off of him in a way that makes Dream want to curl into him. 

“Felt a bit weird when that happened, but you are a busy entity. Nothing to apologise for, of course,” Hob beams, and Dream swallows the sound as the smile dims, expression becoming concerned. “Your hair,” Dream blinks―and wonders when his hair became long, it feels like ― stress, the weight of the envoy, of his actions last time he was here. “You seem a bit,” Hob bites his lip, “tense.” 

“I am fine,” he replies, and Hob gives him a skeptical glance. 

“Dream,” Hob says softly, a hand coming up to hover over the ends of his hair, “may I?” Blinking, he looks at Hob’s earnest expression, “I want to help. I’ve heard I give a pretty good head rub.” Dream blinks once more, then nods stiffly, and he watches as Hob moves around ― lighting candles that smell of lavender and getting some food before sitting back next to him, turning on the TV as he does. “Any preferences?” Hob nods to the TV, and Dream shakes his head. 

Dream tenses as Hob’s hands move slowly, making their way to his head―and Dream lets out a sound as a fingers stroke and dig into his scalp. The other hand joins in and Dream can’t help but cry out in relief, the touches unlocking some tight part of him as he can only manage to plant his face on Hob’s thigh, who doesn’t object, hands stroking and petting, massaging his scalp and hair. 

“You’re perfectly fine, just relax,” Hob whispers and he shivers, can feel the stress and tension melting away from him as he goes boneless on the sofa, breathing in the musk of Hob underneath him. Every pass and press of Hob’s fingers, nails into him releases even more tension, and he― 

Unfurls, the black mass of his body, tentacles flopping onto the floor, the machine creak of a black metal tail, as well as various other appendages, can feel them stretching out onto the carpet. Hob makes a sound but doesn’t comment, only taking a hand away and Dream looks up, seeing Hob eat some of his biscuits before Dream shuts his eye. 

“I’d rather not get another record player,” Hob says, and Dream doesn’t get why he says it until he opens his eyes, a feathered limb knocking said record player, and Dream makes a sound, softly moving his limbs around the coffee table, tentacles and a limb of black teeth curling around it until they circle to Hob’s feet. “Much appreciated.” 

And even with the stress lifting, his hair seems to grow, can feel it falling over the sofa as Hob doesn’t stop, seemingly happy to massage his scalp, other hand stroking his hair. 

-

Dream opens his eyes with a jolt, confused as he looks around, mind lagging from― 

The sleep. He had. He can’t remember the last time he slept. It was probably while the Earth was still a mass of dust and rocks, still to be pulled together. 

And now, one of Hob’s hands is still in his hair, touching it softly, the other arm touching his chest as he blinks. Can feel Hob in the Dreaming, can feel the night sky above him, the TV still playing softly as he huffs, relaxing back into the hold, putting his face into Hob’s hip. 

The hand in his hair pets him, fingers stroking through the long strands in some automatic motion, Hob still dreaming even as the fingers continue their movement. 

Dream allows himself more of it, hoarding the feeling of having Hob’s body so close, hands in his hair, then he sits up, Hob’s body heat still sticking to him as he turns the TV off. Hob only groans as Dream picks him up, carrying him bridal style to the other’s room, and Dream smiles, patting Hob’s hair as he puts the immortal under the covers. 

“Thank you,” he says softly, stroking the grey of Hob’s temple, making sure Hob’s dreams will be full of the feelings he gave Dream, the warmth and calm. “I feel much better now, my friend.” 

-

“I’m not boring you, am I?” Hob asks, voice cutting out over the phone line, and Dream hums, relishing in the familiar comfort of Hob’s presence inside the daydream, phone to his ear. 

“Of course not,” he says, making Hob do a skeptical noise. 

“Feel like I’m boring myself with this line of thought. Instead ― I always imagine you with a smartphone when we’re like this,” Hob says, and Dream blinks. 

“It is not a smartphone for me,” he replies, “it’s a phone box.”

“Like in Doctor Who?” Hob asks, voice curious, daydream brightening with the emotion. 

“No, a red one,” he clarifies, and huffs as he reaches out to the connection between them, “I will show you.”

Dream knows when Hob can see it ― can see him, can feel the invisible eyes on him as Hob lets out a breath. “Oh. Hello,” Hob speaks softly, and Dream gives him a small smile. “Cosy. I like it.” 

“It―“ feels like you, the bone-deep comfort, Dream doesn’t say, lulled into the sense of it, “it is beyond adequate for when we converse.” 

He gets the feeling that Hob blinks as he takes a moment, “I’m glad for that, then. Beyond adequate is one of my favourite descriptors about me,” Hob says teasingly. “Don’t think I would’ve done the black glass though.”

Dream looks at the sides, surprised to see the clear glass replaced with black glass, opaque and matte. “I didn’t realise,” he frowns, not touching on why he’d want to change the glass, what feels like the part of him still in that cursed basement. 

“How about stained glass, then? That’d be nice,” Hob offers, “just an idea.” Dream stares at the glass, the squares changing to varying hues, mixed in with the black glass. “Beautiful.”

-

Dream stares at the door, at the quiet behind it ― which soon changes as Hob gets a call, and Dream comes closer, pressing an ear to the door. Hob talks to the person ― his higher-up, most likely. The conversation is loud, Hob joking and laughing as he says that sure, I can do another.

The person greets Hob nervously once they’re connected, but Hob easily makes them feel at ease, and Dream feels a pang of envy for those who interact with Hob throughout the days, wanting to keep it all to himself, but knowing he can’t. 

And it’s not like he thought of Hob doing his job in detail, but as Hob gently coaxes out a fantasy, light-hearted and soft, Dream can feel the words prickle under his skin. A part of him thought that Hob would ― list out fantasies, easy to pick and choose from a menu.

His hands ball on the door, unwilling to move as Hob talks, as the person’s imagination sparks, and Dream holds himself back from changing the figment of imagination meant to represent Hob, keeping still. 

Hob’s words, practised and filthy, wash over him as he considers what Hob would coax out of him, can’t even fathom it as the person whines, getting louder in their cries, and Dream presses his forehead to the door, can’t even fathom the thought of Hob doing that to him. 

But still, he wants it, can taste it as the person comes, Hob gently coaxing them on, and Dream vanishes back to the Dreaming before he’s aware, mind sticky with thoughts.

-

Hob isn’t saying something, Dream can feel it in the way the daydream of the phone box twists and pulses. “Feeling an urge to go back to England ― not permanently at this point. More of a holiday, but I’ve been over there too long, so,” Hob grumbles, then sighs. There’s a pause, and Dream waits for Hob to speak.

“Hob?” He asks, straightening up on the glass panel, can feel Hob’s gaze on him. 

“Do you know,” Hob says quietly, the words careful and measured, “you have a presence?” 

“A presence?” He echoes, brows furrowing, and there’s another pause, can feel Hob putting the words together carefully. 

Hob hums, and Dream gets the impression of nervousness, “when you come here. To the Waking. Never noticed it much when we were at the White Horse, probably because of all the people and alcohol, but since we’ve met up outside that, I’ve noticed it. There’s a certain ― change to the gravity, to the air around you, when you’re here,” another pause, another drawn out sigh. More silence. “You’ve been listening to me. While I work,” Hob states, and Dream freezes. “Can feel you, on the other side of that door.” 

Dream swallows, thoughts screeching to a halt, too thrown off to even comprehend saying anything. 

“Why? Eldritch curiosity?” Hob asks, and Dream shuts his eyes, grabbing the out offered with both hands. 

“Yes,” he says, voice scratchy, “I am sorry for. Overstepping.” 

There’s a tiny laugh on the other end of the line, “I don’t care. How am I? Any critiques?” Hob asks, voice lightly teasing, and Dream takes an unneeded breath as he relaxes against the glass.

“You are adequate,” Dream says gravely, and Hob laughs gleefully. Dream intimately understands the meaning of dodging a bullet as Hob begins to talk about something else ― dinner, Dream catches, and he takes another useless breath. 

-

Dream does truly forget this time, as he looks around at Hob’s house, then pauses at the closed door, can faintly hear Hob speaking and Dream pauses. Can feel you, on the other side of that door rings in his head, and Dream ― reaches out, can feel how he changes things, presses onto the fabric of reality as he pulls it inside of himself, like a flower folding back up. 

Can feel the particles and dark matter buzzing inside his form as he walks closer and presses his ear against the door, closing his eyes as Hob’s soft voice washes over him, the laughter warm. 

And the other side of the phone ― Dream blinks, brows furrowing, because she’s a regular. A regular not there for sex, more for companionship, the familiar English accent of Hob’s voice, easing her homesickness. 

Sometimes she does get her self off after, but it’s more ― casual, Hob talking about recipes and both of them missing home. Serendipity of one day her wanting someone to masturbate to, and being struck by hearing the familiar sound. Crying and feeling embarrassed as Hob soothed her and made her laugh. 

Dream frowns, feeling put off, hackles rising as they talk and―Dream swallows, can feel the presence of him straining, not used to it, now that he’s aware of it, crawling under his skin― 

And on the other side of the door, Hob laughing and talking, and Dream can feel anger building, expecting ― filth, not this, which he can’t articulate why he hates it. 

Taking a deep breath, he steps back into the Dreaming, his presence blooming into nothing as dark clouds rumble in the sky. 

=

Dream slowly blinks, aware of a sound in his ear as he looks around ― the red phone box, black and rainbow-coloured glass, the phone’s curled line leading to the phone next to his ear, a dial-tone as it.

Tries to connect to Hob, Dream’s aware of, unable to feel Hob’s warmth, or his unseeing gaze as he sits on the floor of box, holding his knees with his free hand. He’s so tired. The bone-deep weariness, the work on keeping the Dreamling stable even when he doesn’t feel it. 

The way he ― didn’t contact or go to Hob, anger soon fading away, but by then there was political talks and treaties, a flurry of people counting on him, when he just wants to tend to his Dreamers, wants to make new dreams and nightmares, but can only manage nothing. 

Sighing, he presses the phone to his ear, dial-tone still ringing, and Dream considers that―”Dream?” A voice connects, confused as the daydream lights up, warmth infusing it and Dream relaxes at the sound of Hob’s voice. “So that was―you were calling me,” Hob says, voice confused and giving way to awe, and Dream smiles. What feels like his first smile in a while. 

“I was not sure it would work,” he says quietly, feet pressing against the corner of the box as he holds the phone closer to him. “I am sorry if I interrupted.”

Hob laughs, and Dream lets the sound wash over him, “nah. Just had some groceries to get ― then had this peculiar pushing feeling, like a knocking, which I ignored until I got everything home and put away. And it was my precious friend calling me,” Hob says, and Dream can easily see the smile with how Hob speaks. “You seem,” Hob pauses, and Dream looks up at the ceiling, can feel the other’s gaze, the concern and worry palpable. “Out of sorts,” Hob settles on. 

“I didn’t even realise I was calling you at one point,” Dream offers, and Hob makes a distressed sound. “It is nice to hear your voice,” he says with a sigh, curling around the phone. 

“And it’s nice to hear yours,” Hob says softly. “Anything I can do to help?”

“You already are,” smiling, he rests his chin on his arm, can feel Hob’s affection pouring through the daydream wrapping him up in heat. It intensifies and he shivers, can feel it press into all the empty and dark places, the bits of him still in cold and glass and pain―”I want to escape,” he blinks, only aware of the sentence after he said it, “but I cannot leave.”

Hob hums, and Dream can feel the phonebox flickering as Hob thinks, “a story, then? If you want,” Hob says softly, and Dream nods, the phonebox flickering, the red phone and it’s red wire only staying, “you said that to a friend, and this friend ― cares for you, can see how you need to get away,” Dream hums, falling into the highs and lows of the other’s voice easily. “And so, they kidnap ― nicely, taking you to some far-away cabin.” 

The phonebox changes, expands, becoming a wooden cabin ― a fireplace on the wall, fire crackling, a huge bed and Dream smiles, any kneejerk reactions fading into nothing at the constant warmth, Hob’s invisible gaze on him. And a shadow person, standing in front of him, hand outstretched, and Dream takes it to stand up from the carpeted floor, can feel Hob’s touch in the shadow. 

“Always working too hard, can see how it burns you out, putting too much on yourself, just wants to let you forget about it for a bit. It’ll all be there after, of course,” Hob says as they sit down on the bed, and Dream soaks up Hob’s voice, putting his head on the shadow’s shoulder, an arm moving around his own shoulders. “But you’re allowed time away ― especially with your friend, who took you so nicely, implored you to leave with them.”

Dream hums, can feel the Hob’s hair brushing against the back of his neck, the beard on his jaw as he presses his nose into the shadow’s neck, pleasantly scratchy. “Hob,” he breathes, insides twisting and hot, can’t help but to ― kiss him, and the daydream―Hob, hitches a breath. 

“Oh,” Hob’s voice is lightly strangled, but the shadow still kisses him back, hands on his jaw as the daydream heats up even more, can feel prickles of Hob’s growing arousal. “And―well―that is,” Hob stumbles, voice more breathless than before as Dream’s hands go into dark hair, thumbs stroking the grey of where Hob’s beard would be, and Hob lets out another sound. “Of course, your friend―that is,” a cough, “has wanted you, but wasn’t expecting this, was happy for just―” 

Hob swears as Dream licks into the shadow’s mouth, can feel hands going down to grip his hips as they kiss, can feel Hob’s gaze on him, hooking under his skin as he presses into the void-of-his-friend, can feel the other’s hard cock in jeans as he bites the shadow’s lips. 

There’s a gasp, a keen as the shadow’s hands go under his shirt, nails scratching up his torso. Hob lets out another sound, a tinge frustrated and the shadow moves, tugging him down onto the bed, pressing him against as Dream whines, shivering at the lips and stubble as the shadow bites marks into his neck. “This friend thinks you shouldn’t be working even in this,” Hob says, voice octaves lower as the shadow touches his robe, his shirt vanishing under it, “should focus on feeling good, on how maybe,” Hob’s voice cracks. 

“Maybe?” He purrs, can feel the other’s intense stare as his pants vanish, hands reverently going down his hips to his thighs. Can feel the daydream shaking with arousal ― Hob’s arousal, can feel the Dreaming beyond the little black bubble this is all placed in before he focuses back on the shadow, the room and Hob. 

And the shadow, fingers slick as they trail up his inner thighs, can feel Hob’s gaze zeroing in on him, focused to a point as he shudders, grasping at the shadow’s soft hair, “as a courtesy,” Hob rasps, voice deep as the shadow licks at a nipple, hardening under it quickly, and Dream gasps as a finger slowly enters him, pressing against walls with heat, “you should be fucked, taken care of, until you can’t think anymore.”

“By you?” He asks, keening as another finger enters him, stretching him slowly ― even though he doesn’t need it, body loosening around them easily and Hob whines, more fingers entering him. 

The shadow kisses him, beard rough against his face as they kiss, and Dream gasps, staring at ceiling as fingers graze his prostate, and Dream can only dig into the shadow’s shoulders, arching up into the feeling as thoughts vanish, the shadow moving down to nibble marks into his collarbone. “Yes,” Hob says, voice rough as the beard that scratches against his skin. “Would be happy to do that, for you, until you’re only just pleasure.” 

Dream groans, squirming under the shadow, wanting it so desperately as fingers continue to press that spot, and Dream grinds down on the feeling, chasing the orgasm in front of him, hearing Hob pant and moan. “With only your fingers?” He asks, voice tripping over itself, and he shivers as they crook inside him.

“To start with,” Hob answers, voice low and gutter-filthy, “a start, to get you out of your head, out of your work,” Hob says, fingers twisting and stretching even more, and Dream lets out a wail, arching into them mindlessly, body shuddering with pleasure. “With me.”

He comes with a cry, white coating the shadow’s front as Dream holds on, the press of warm nails verging into over-stimulation, into a shuddering, maddening amount of bliss. The fingers leave and he groans as he’s turned around, face pressing into pillows as the shadow forces him up by the hips, arse in the air. “Hob?” He slurs, can feel a nose ghost against his spine, thumbs digging into his waist. 

Hob lets out a breath, and he shivers as a tongue comes out, hot against his spine as it makes it’s way down. “There’s still so much to do, and there’s time for it all,” Hob promises.

-

Dream comes back to himself pleasantly, form faintly twinging as he stares at the wall of his bedroom, a stained glass window showing golden light that keeps him warm. His mind is clear, only one thing ― one person ― occupying it as he stands up, loose black robe forming around him. 

It’s only once he’s stepped into the Waking, and knocked at Hob’s front door, that maybe― 

Just a fantasy, Hob’s job, a one-off, his mind spirals as he crosses his arms, feeling the cool air with only his thin robe― 

“Dream!” He blinks and the door has opened, revealing Hob’s smiling face, and Dream relaxes at the sight. Hob doesn’t show any signs of what happened, which―of course, since it was a daydream. 

As Dream sits on the sofa, a part of him settles that if this doesn’t―become anything, he might be content with that. Since Hob didn’t throw him out at first sight, he can be happy with Hob’s friendship. 

“You, uh,” Hob says, tone faltering and Dream stares down at himself, at the small black robe. At the marks and beard burn he can feel on the inside of his thighs, the bruises on his neck. Hob’s face gets redder as he stares, brown eyes wide. 

Wide, and interested, can feel echoes of their daydream ripple through the air, Hob licking his lips and Dream’s form tingles, wanting. Not just a shadow, not just a daydream, wants to see Hob’s eyes get darker, like they are right now―and Dream surges up, grabbing Hob’s threadbare shirt to kiss him roughly. Dream’s hands clench as they go up, and he moans at the feel of the other’s beard, of the way Hob leans into the kiss, automatic― 

Hob breaks the kiss with a gasp, eyes wide with wonder, a hand in his dark hair, fingers curling around Dream’s dark strands. “Curiousity?” Hob asks, breathless. 

“No,” is all he says before going back in for a kiss, Hob’s other hand quickly grabbing his waist as Dream spins him around, pushing him onto the sofa. Hob gasps, hands tugging him down onto Hob’s lap, and Dream shivers at the affection and want he can feel coming from the other’s daydreams, Hob just as hungry as him as he grinds into Hob’s lap. 

[Fin]

[snoozingstarzz]

*slides into frame*

....Fake Rayman hcs? Just based on ur own interp. Or mine if u want. Or both. IDK!!!

YES. YESS. IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE.

Okay, SO. this’ll have hc for these specific versons of fakeman, since i love most of the theories on what he is (raymesis, robot / ai, and clone)

Robot / ai fakeman: He has an E branded on him somewhere, I just know it. His limbs kinda work as how a magnet repels each other, just controlled enough to be believable.

Personally wise— he tries very hard to imitate Rayman the best he can, usually through old recordings of the late night eden show and old news interviews. When he’s on stage, he moves how the normal Rayman does— after all, he was programmed that way. But, when he’s offstage, its almost like he’s just. tossed aside. never to be needed until the next day. He doesn’t feel much about it, but something in him makes it feel… wrong.

ai / robot Fakeman also has moments where he does glitch out, considering he was probably made at a rushed moments notice. He was probably created around the time Rayman had gotten that call in his home when he was drunk. Even then, that call was probably used to get voice modules, as well as past calls that he’s probably taken. (assuming eden records phone calls too, which they probably do.)

I feel like Ai/Robotic Fakeman would be very curious about how real people (in a general sense, which includes hybrids and even ramon) live. How they act, why emotions drive them to do the things they do. It’s fascinating to him, and it even can cause him sometimes to wonder what it would be like to be… well, alive.

Clone Fakeman: honestly he acts more dead inside than ramon does. While robotic/ai has more curiosity, clone is just… a husk. only time he feels alive or wanting purpose is when he’s in the limelight. otherwise, he’s just the same husk he used to be.

His brain was probably wired to LOVE the feeling of being cheered, appreciated on stage, loved. And because of that, it makes him more attached, more likely to stick to eden’s side (cough cough “Without them, I’m nothing! THEY SAVED MY LIFE!” type shit)

Also, because he’s made with organic material he sometimes just. falls apart. like. like skin. just falls. and lums just fly out because Eden doesn’t know what they’re doing when it comes to making clones.

Raymesis Fakeman: I am so convinced this guy became the replacement JUST to fuck with rayman. I’m very positive. He was probably told to do it by Mr Dark, which if he’s still in this is probably in a high power (or yk maybe hes just fucking dead we don’t know atp).

I can imagine him having the FATTEST EGO known to man knowing that he’s taken Rayman’s job. If they ever had a confrontation I just know this mf would cackle his ass off laughing at what Ramon had become.

Though, he has his annoyances. For one, he hates having to wear makeup and contacts ALL THE GOD DAMN TIME. Like every fucking waking moment this poor thingamajig is sweaty and uncomfortable because of the PACKED ON MAKEUP to hide his skin. Also Eden forced him to dye his hair blond. Because obviously they did, they’re fucking annoying. Oh yeah, and he can’t swear. Which is funny because I just know Raymesis cusses in every single sentence he says.

Raymesis has literally lived in Rayman’s shadow for fuck knows how long. But I also feel like once he truly sees what Eden has done and is continuing to do, he’s gonna feel… a bit conflicted. perchance join his side.

okay ramble done tehe

[sad-ena-kinnie]

I- the only thing I can focus on right now is it’s teeth?? WHY DO THEY LOOK SO SHARP IM ACTUALLY CONCERNED LMAO

[moemoemammon]

Following that "least favorite" request could we get their reactions to being to told that they're their favorite, but to not tell the other brothers so their feelings don't get hurt? Maybe because they relate to them the most or just get along really well. Thanks!

You're My Favorite! But Don't Tell the Others-

(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

There are no words to explain the overwhelming satisfaction ion Lucifer’s face after you tell him that. Of course, it’s only natural that he would be your favorite, all things considered.

The Avatar of Pride won’t ever forget this moment. He carefully considers your words and agrees not to tell anyone, as much as he’d love to bring it up, because he knows more than anyone what kind of chaos would ensue should the others (especially Mammon) find out.

But they can tell something’s up when the eldest has been heard humming all day. He moves about the house with even more grace than usual, and hasn’t scowled even once.

But the REAL shocker was when Mammon tried hiding a bill right as Lucifer walked in... and the eldest let him off with a warning. A WARNING! The brothers thought the Devildom must’ve frozen over, but you and he knew different.

“MC, I would like you to accompany me to Le Pluvier this afternoon, once you've finished your studies. I've already made reservations, so be sure to get ready on time. I've made sure to consider the things you might like to eat, so I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself. Don't be late." "...I'm grinning? I don't know what you're talking about."

Mammon

The gigantic grin on Mammon’s face is so bright, it could rival the sun. You’ve seriously made his day. No, his year. Actually, he’s pretty sure he could ride this high for the next millennia! There’s nothing in this world that could dampen his spirits right now! 

He feels like he just won big at the casino! Of course he’s your favorite! He WAS your first demon, and now he’s gone and claimed his rightful spot as your number one! Good luck trying to keep him from saying anything. Mammon’s gonna throw it around in everyone’s faces for as long as he can milk it.

And you thought he was clingy before, just wait till you see how he treats you after hearing that. Despite always calling you his ‘servant’ or his ‘human’, you’d  think your roles were reversed. Mammon spoils you every chance he gets, buying you clothes and trinkets, filling the spaces in your room with the things he knows you like, monopolizing you completely until nearly everything you own is a gift from him.

Your words also help soothe that jealousy of his a little. Only a little, though. It’s easier to watch you talk to other demons when he knows he’ll always be your first man.

“Didja really have to stay after class that long? I know you were talkin' to that demon that lent you a book, but you outta ask ME for stuff! Tch... you're lucky I'm in a good mood today! But I guess I don't have to worry about some low level demon like that, seein' as I'm your favorite!"

Levi

Wait wait wait....Come again? Did you seriously just say what he think you said..? That had to be a mistake! Some kind of...uh..verbal typo! Because there’s absolutely, positively, NO WAY in all of the nine layers that he could be your favorite demon. And yet you still insist that you’re telling the truth, and Levi feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. 

Red faced and stammering up a storm, Levi looks like he might die. Is it really okay for a shut-in otaku to feel this giddy? Seriously, he hasn’t felt like this since he got his hands on a signed copy of a Ruri Hana audio drama! No no, this definitely beats that!

You’ve managed to inflate his nearly nonexistent ego, and now he feels like there’s nothing he can’t do! Maybe he could even go to Majolish right now?? THAT’S how good he’s feeling!

Almost as bad as Mammon in keeping it a secret. He doesn’t tell anyone right away, but they’re suspicious when they notice how much time he’s spending out of his room. And then when he and Mammon get in another petty argument, he drops the bomb that he’s your favorite demon in the entire Devildom, and you can guess how things go from there.

“Uuuoooo...!!!!! I've decided..! Since I've got a serious stat buff, I'm going to open a booth at the next convention coming up..! I'll sell my Ruri-chan fan art and spread her influence all over the Devildom! I'd never have the guts to do it normally, but I feel like I could do anything right now! Y-you'll go too, won't you MC?"

Satan

You nearly made this man spit tea all over his book, and now he’s coughing and spluttering and trying to figure out what could’ve prompted what he’s taking as a confession. You.. do realize what you’re saying, don’t you? And you know the kind of effect your words have on him?

Satan isn’t the type that wears his heart on his sleeve, so you have to look for his subtle expressions to tell how he’s feeling. But there’s nothing subtle about the redness of his ears and how he’s begging you not to look at him right now. For the sake of his sanity, give him a minute to recoup.

When he does recover, he agrees to keep it a secret for obvious reasons. And it’s hard to tell that he’s in a good mood, other than the fact that he hasn’t tried to pull any pranks on Lucifer lately. But Asmo sees all, and literally hounds him into spilling the tea.

He tells him a lie of course, but now the other brothers are noticing just how happy he is. Satan's smiling way too much today, isn't he? And he didn't even get mad when Beel got whipped cream on his jacket! Well, not THAT mad, anyway.

"Haaah... everyone's been harassing me all day, claiming I'm smiling a lot. I'm sure I look the same as I always do, but I'll admit that I've been happy ever since you told me that this morning. Wait.. you did think I've been grinning too, do you? I have??"

Asmo

Asmo always jokes about being your favorite and announces it as if the two of you are married, but when you actually confirm that his longing for you isn’t one sided, he ends up smearing lip balm across his cheek in shock. Did you... really say that just now? He knew it all along, but hearing it like that is just...!

Ooooh, he’s so happy he can hardly contain himself! Asmo throws his arms around you, peppering your face in kisses until you feel sticky from lip balm, wipes your face clean, then marks it up all over again. Good luck getting rid of him, because he might never let go.

Immediately posts it to Devilgram. Did you really think he’d let such a momentous occasion go unannounced? You must not have been paying attention to the kind of person he is! Asmo would put you on a pedestal in front of the world like a precious jewel if he were able, but this’ll have to do. He won’t hide his love at all!

Of course, the others don’t take too kindly to it, not that he cares. He never leaves your side, pampers you like crazy, and has even attempted to get you to move into his room. Lucifer put an immediate stop to that, though. Boo...

“I just can't get enough of you, MC! Just being near you gets me so excited that I can hardly stand it! You'll take responsibility for what you're doing to me, won't you? And in exchange, I'll take my time showing you just how much I love you. After all, you're my favorite, too!"

Beel

Beel never has a problem with choking while he eats, and it comes as naturally as breathing. Unfortunately neither of that applies right now, since you just made him choke on a meatball sub.

He usually takes your words with quiet acceptance, but this might be the most emotion you've ever witness from the stoic demon. His eyes are wider than that time that laid on an entire gingerbread mansion, sparkling up with such deep emotion you wouldn't be surprised if he cried. Instead he softens up and immediately embraces you.

...And doesn't let go. Sandwich long forgotten, he's been carrying you around all day, and ignoring any questions or protests from his brothers. Also insists on feeding you throughout the day. The food tastes better when he can enjoy it with you, so why not just bring you everywhere?

When he isn't carrying you, he's following you around subconsciously, either close up against you like a protective wall, or just far enough that you're within his line of sight. As far as not telling anyone, he... tells Belphie immediately. It was an accident though, since there's not much he keeps from his twin.

"MC, I won a meal ticket for Godevil Chocolatier. Let's get something for dessert today. Ah, you can get as much as you want, too. I really want to see what things you choose. They might become my favorites."

Belphie

There's nothing in this world that can wake Belphegor from his sleep, unless he allows it. No loud noises, no amount of shaking or smacking, and not even dragging him around the house. But the moment you whisper that he's your favorite demon, the Avatar of Sloth is wide awake.

Hey, you're not just saying weird things to get a reaction, are you? Because if so, this is a new level of cruel. Yet you confirm that you mean it and swear him into secrecy, and Belphie tries his best not to show how happy he is. A smile keeps creeping up on his face that he struggles to force down. It's annoying...

As funny as it’d be to tell everyone the news, he's good at keeping secrets. Instead, you've noticed that he's been sleeping a little less that before. When he does take one of his hundreds of naps, he finds some way to be closer to you. He's even been seen sleepwalking to your exact location somehow-

It's hard for him to believe that you're not teasing, though. How could HE be your favorite demon here? Belphie doesn't do anything special to win you over, yet after everything he put you through, you like him enough to deep him your favorite?

"You're weird, MC. I mean... me? I won't deny that I'm really happy though, but I guess I'm in disbelief. You should spoil me even more until I believe you. Lend me your lap for a few hours, okay?" "...I wonder what Lucifer would think if I told him, heheh."

[drawlfoy]

the poisoning of draco malfoy

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x fem!reader

request: no haha

summary: y/n is known her her hangover cure and her passion for potion making. something goes slightly wrong when it comes to helping draco malfoy.

warnings: mentions of underage drinking, swearing, getting poisoned lmfao

a/n: hiyo i should be studying rn for one of my exams on monday but i just wanted to post this also big sorrry to anyone’s dm that i have yet to respond to i literally just popped in here to do this and hopefully i will crawl out of my study hole in a few days fjsdka’

word count: 1.2k

tags :) message or send in an ask to be tagged! @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell

“Draco!” Y/N hissed as he flipped through her entire Potions cabinet, his fingers brushing over every bottle. “Be careful!”

“Sheesh, have I ever been anything but careful?” he teased, shooting her a very self-satisfied look before continuing his search. “Why don’t you label yours?”

“It adds spice to the whole hangover curing process, don’t you think?” she joked, sitting on her bed as she watched him. “Do you need help?”

“No, I’m fine.” She tried to suppress a smile as his stubborn persona reared its head. “It’s pink, right?”

“Yeah,” she said absentmindedly. Her thoughts were somewhere other than potions--instead thinking of how he’d let her rest her head on his shoulder while they were all talking. It obviously meant nothing--they were just friends--but it still made her heart speed up when she thought about it. 

“Got it.” He shut her cabinet, brandishing a small pink bottle before tossing it into his pocket. “Thanks, Y/N. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Anytime,” she said. If she avoided looking him in the eyes for too long, she could pretend like she didn’t feel disappointment at the fact that his visit to her room would be so brief. When he’d asked the group for Wide-Eye potion, everyone had directed him to her and her signature brew (which was really just Wide-Eye brewed with the essence of mandrake root). She’d let her mind wander to the possibilities of what might happen when they were alone in her room--but that was all drunken fantasy speaking. Just because he let her touch his shoulder didn’t mean he was about to propose.

“I’ll see you around, yeah?” He sent her a grin that made her knees weak, turning to leave.

“See you.” 

With that, he was gone.

~

“Think you’re funny, huh?”

Draco’s voice cut through her own pounding head as she sat at the Ravenclaw table with her other equally hungover friends.

“Excuse me?” She whipped around to see him pink with frustration. “Did you even take it?”

“It doesn’t work,” he told her matter-of-factly. “I don’t know how you managed to con all your friends into thinking that you’re some sort of Potions master at the age of 17, but you’re not. I know you’re a fraud.”

“What are you talking about?” Y/N asked. “That potion works. I’ve used it myself.”

“Yeah, it’s magic,” said her fellow Ravenclaw friend, Rena, from across the table. “I actually stole a vial from your cabinet this morning. Never been better. Maybe you’re just ill.”

“Huh?” Y/N asked. “I gave the last vial to Draco last night. There’s no way you could’ve…” The color drained from her face. “Draco, do you still have the bottle from last night? Can you describe the potion to me?”

The realization seemed to dawn upon him as his eyes widened. “No. I threw it out. It just looked like a regular potions bottle. Pink, like you said. Oh, god, did you poison me?”

“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” said Y/N, keeping her tone cavalier despite the fact that she was terrified. “There’s nothing...deadly...in there per se. But it’s not all totally legal for someone like me to have, so we can’t let Pomfrey know about it until I figure out what you took. Or Snape. Especially not Snape.” She shivered.

“So what do you suggest we do?” he drawled.

“Come with me. I’m going to try and figure out what’s missing.”

They didn’t talk much on their way to the Ravenclaw dorms apart from Y/N asking him about his symptoms. As far as she could tell, he was perfectly fine apart from a headache and sensitivity to sound and light--a classic hangover. 

She racked her brain, trying to think about what potion could be in her cabinet that wouldn’t cause ANY effects, even with the combination with alcohol. There was nothing. Quite literally nothing.

“Ok,” she told him as they stood in front of her cabinet. “I want you to tell me the general region where you grabbed it.”

Draco squinted at the bottles, running his fingers over them like he had last night. “To be honest, I hardly remember. It was a blur. Maybe this’ll teach you to put labels on them.”

“Normally I don’t have people ransacking my potions!” she snapped, throwing her hands in the air. “Are you sure you don’t feel anything different from a hangover? Like, at all?”

“No.” 

“Did you even take it?”

“Yes, I’m quite certain I drank a potion you gave to me this morning unless I completely imagined the entire thing,” he said, rolling his eyes to the ceiling and sitting down next to her. “How fucked am I? Should I go to the hospital wing?”

“Worst comes to worst we use a bezoar, but it doesn’t look like you’re in any danger.” She chewed her lip as she thought. “Hang on…you’re absolutely positive it was pink, right? Were there any other colors in it?” 

“Gold flecks.” 

She sprung up, digging through her cabinet and ignoring Draco’s questioning. “This doesn’t make any sense. I think you took my love potion.”

“No way,” he scoffed. “I think I would know if I was under the influence of a love potion.”

“I know. That’s why it doesn’t make any sense,” Y/N said. “But there’s only one potion in here that has gold flecks, and that’s a love potion. And it’s gone. Unless Rena took it--and I think everyone would’ve noticed that by now--it had to have been you.”

“But I feel normal!” he protested, running his hands through his hair. 

“Of course you feel normal,” she chastised. “The whole point of love potions is to convince you that what you’re feeling is natural--oh.”

It hit her. 

He gave her a weird look.

“Got anything you want to confess, Malfoy?” she asked, cocking her head and meeting his eyes. 

“What?”

“Do you know how love potions work?”

“Of course I know how love potions work,” he snapped, narrowing his eyes. “I’m not 12.”

“Care to explain?”

“You’re ridiculous,” he said, but he crossed his legs and continued in a monotone voice as he recited the lesson they’d both heard in 3rd year. “The recipient of a love potion falls into infatuation with the…”

His voice trailed off.

“With the person who gave it to them, yeah?” pushed Y/N. “So if you feel no different, and I was the person who gave it to you..”

Draco just stared.

“Draco, I brewed that potion, and I know that there’s nothing wrong with it,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “You feel normal because--”

“Because I normally feel infatuated with you, yeah,” he cut in, his tone bitter as he rolled his eyes again. “No need to spell it out for me.”

“This is horribly embarrassing for you, huh?” she teased, giving him a shove. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I’ve probably liked you for longer.”

“Well--what?” 

“Yeah,” she said, shrugging as she tucked her legs under her and scooted a little closer. “You don’t honestly think I’d give my last vial to some random classmate, do you?”

“Well, why didn’t you just tell me?” he teased. “I don’t let just anyone fall asleep on my shoulder.”

“I guess we’re both cowards, then,” said Y/N.

“And idiots.”

“I think that’s just you.”

final a/n: i didnt edit this and i wrote this in the middle of what was supposed to be a study session for me whoopsies fdjsa;k 

[sunkissedpages]

instead of you [part three]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex

word count: 2.1k

series masterlist

“No sex?”

“Y/n!” Sam hissed through his teeth. “You think you could lower your fucking voice a little?” His tone was even, but his eyes betrayed the thinly veiled panic you were all too familiar with. 

Pushing your best friend’s buttons was something you usually enjoyed, but in that moment you were feeling a similar sense of panic. 

“Sorry, how was I supposed to react to you telling me I can’t sleep with anyone this summer?” you snapped in a whisper. 

“How were you expecting to pull that off without making it look like you were cheating on me?” he countered. 

“I- I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t thinking about it...”

Sam had been typing the list of “rules” for the summer in the notes app of his phone for the better half of an hour as you brainstormed together, and you had been on board with everything that it consisted of so far:

No gross pet names (babe, baby, and darling are acceptable)

No kissing with tongue

No telling embarrassing stories!! (yes that includes that one time i got a condom stuck in my nose and we had to go to the emergency room- that’s literally only funny to you)

4. Share a bed together for the whole trip

ACT LIKE WE’RE IN LOVE (@ y/n)

Spend at least an hour with family per day

Take “coupley” pictures together when my parents as- bc they WILL ask

Wear the matching shirts my mother made 

Buy y/n all the alcohol she wants

It was a pretty decent list, all things considered, until he got to rule number ten. 

“I mean it’s not like it’s going to be easy for me either,” Sam reasoned. 

You rolled your eyes. “Am I supposed to thank you for your service or something? Applaud you for keeping it in your pants for two whole months?”

“You’re literally complaining about the exact same thing.”

“Yeah, but I’m only doing it to save your ass,” you huffed.

“Trust me, I’m well aware,” he said, sighing. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”

You gave him a soft smile. “You don’t have to keep apologizing. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

“You don’t want to be. You’ve mentioned that several times.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t love you.”

Sam smiled at that. “Thanks, I love you too.”

“Alright that’s enough sincerity between us for a lifetime,” you said and chuckled uneasily. “We can go back to being assholes to each other now.”

“Good, that took a lot out of me.”

You glared at him, but refrained from making a comment. “What’s next on the list then, lover boy?”

“Already breaking the first rule-”

“Fine, what’s next on the list, fuckface?” you asked with a smirk. 

Sam clenched his jaw and scrolled on his phone. “Okay, number eleven, no flirting with my brothers.”

“Do you really need to write that one down?” You watched as he typed it out without acknowledging you. “Like isn’t that kind of implied? You know I don’t see Harry like that.”

“He’s not the one I’m worried about,” he muttered. 

You raised your eyebrows expectantly, awaiting an explanation, but he offered none. Instead, he moved on to the next rule and left you sitting alone in your confusion. 

The majority of the rest of the flight was spent bickering with Sam over the list, undoubtedly annoying the hell out of everyone seated around you. The other passengers finally got some reprieve from the sound of your hushed voices when Sam put his earbuds in to listen to music. You knew he was only doing it to tune you out because whenever he was really listening to something he always shared one of his earbuds with you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. If he was going to be like that then... god, this was going to be a long summer.

You shifted in your seat so that you could comfortably rest your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. Even though he was frustrated with you, you knew he wouldn’t push you away. It was just like that with you guys. He’d get over it by the time you landed. 

When you opened your eyes again, Sam had fallen asleep too. He was slumped against you with his head resting on top of yours like something out of a movie. It struck you as ironic. To passers by you already looked like a couple. Game on. 

-

Sam led the way through the busy airport terminal to baggage claim, apparently trusting you were right on his heels. But it was almost like he was trying to lose you with the way he was weaving through the crowd like a wanted fugitive. You could barely keep up. Some fake boyfriend he was. 

You’d never seen your best friend like this before. Usually he was so calm and collected, the one who was always talking you off the ledge, but you could tell he was the one climbing stairs right now. 

“Fuck, there’s no way this’ll work.” 

It had been another one of those late nights in the library when Sam had thrown the stack of index cards onto the table in surrender and buried his face in his hands. You were both teetering on the edge of a caffeine crash. The words on the pages had started to blur together in a way that was almost illegible and neither of you could keep the important dates of your relationship straight. 

“Yes it will,” you insisted as you gathered up the cards and handed them back to him. “We’re just burnt out. That’s why we keep getting things wrong.” He knit his eyebrows together in a way that told you he didn’t believe you, but didn’t say anything in return. You sighed and took a sip of your coffee, giving him a measured look over the lenses of your glasses. “It’s four am., Sam. We just need some sleep and then we’ll come back fresh tomorrow, you’ll see.”

He pushed his hair back from his forehead and nodded reluctantly. “Thanks for doing this with me... it’s, uh, really important to me.”

“I know.” 

But you didn’t know why. Sam didn’t even study this hard for midterms, but here he was night after night with you mapping out every single detail of your fake relationship. A small part of you wondered if there was something more, something that he was keeping from you, but you pushed the thought down. You told each other everything...

As you watched him wait for your suitcases at the carousel, arms crossed, left foot tapping the tile impatiently, it dawned on you just how nervous he was. You wished there was something you could say to ease his mind, but the right words were escaping you. To be fair, you weren’t having any luck shaking your jitters either. You’d never been in a relationship long enough to meet your significant other’s parents. Somehow the fact that you weren’t even dating made it even more daunting. You desperately needed the Hollands to like you- for both you and Sam’s sakes. 

“This one’s yours, right?” Sam asked and pointed to one of the bags he’d rolled over.

“Yeah, thanks for grabbing it.”

“Don’t mention it, babe.” You fought the urge to make a face- “you’re making a face.”

“Sorry, knee-jerk reaction. Still adjusting to hearing that.”

“Well adjust quicker because my brother will be here to pick us up any minute.”

“Wait, what?”

“How else did you think we were going to get home?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think about it.”

You followed Sam outside through the automatic doors to the car loop to wait for Harry. It was warm out, but there was a light breeze that lifted some of the heat from the pavement. The sun had set mere minutes ago, and dusk was lazily settling over the horizon. You were too close to the city to see any stars, but the moon glowed dimly behind the clouds, like a performer waiting in the wings. 

Sam scrolled through Spotify as you both sat there, carefully balanced on your suitcases, and offered you one of his AirPods. You took it wordlessly and put it in your ear. The gesture was comforting, almost intimate, a reminder that nothing had changed between you. At least not yet. 

He was playing something you hadn’t heard before, a classical piece. It sounded old and European which didn’t narrow it down at all. A glance at the title scrolling across his screen suggested that it was French, but he put his phone in his pocket and stood up before you could fully read it. 

Before you could ask what was happening a black Audi pulled up to the curb, parked, and a boy who was... not Harry stepped out of it. It was then that you realized Sam had never specified which brother was picking you up. 

You knew Sam had an older brother, but he didn’t talk about him much. You had just assumed they weren’t close, but as you watched them hug and laugh together you weren’t sure what to make of it. 

“Y/n, this is Tom,” Sam said as he introduced you to his brother. “Tom, this is my girlfriend, y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.” You held out your hand and he shook it tentatively.

“Likewise,” he replied, sounding unconvinced. “Can I help you guys with your bags?”

“Um, sure. That’d be great.”

You handed over your suitcase and backpack to him and joined Sam back over on the sidewalk while Tom lifted the luggage into the trunk with surprising ease.

Tom was about Sam’s height, slender like Sam too, but far more athletically built. Even through his t-shirt you could see the distinct outline of muscles you hadn’t even known existed in the human anatomy- it was ridiculous. His smile was the same as Sam’s too, but what really gave him away as a Holland were the curls peeking out from under his baseball cap. They were impossible to miss. 

“Do you want to sit in the front, love?” Sam asked, pulling you back into the moment.

“No thanks, you catch up with your brother. I’ll be fine in the back.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded. Tom didn’t seem too thrilled to meet you in the first place so sitting in the back seemed like the safer way to play it. Sam just shrugged and climbed into the passenger seat while you slid into the middle seat in the back. 

“Did you tell mum we’re running a few minutes late?” Sam asked Tom once he’d merged onto the road. 

“Yeah, she said she expects it from Heathrow anyway since they’re always so busy.”

“It was fucking packed, mate.”

“I know. Traffic was awful getting here. Everyone’s going on holiday.” Tom turned to glance at you, then back at his brother. “Are you guys hungry? Dinner should be ready when we get there.”

“When we get where?” you piped up in confusion, wondering who would’ve cooked at the boys’ flat.

“Mum’s and dad’s.”

You grabbed Sam by the shoulder. “Wait, we’re going straight to your parents’ house? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What do you mean? Why does it matter?”

You stared at him, eyes wide. “I can’t meet your parents like this!”

“Like what?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m wearing sweatpants!”

“And you look fine!” he argued. “Tom, tell her she looks fine.”

“Uh, you look fine.”

Why were men so fucking dense? You rolled your eyes and unbuckled your seatbelt. Your suitcase was just out of reach in the trunk so you hoisted yourself up over the seatback and grabbed one of the straps on the bag to pull it closer to you.  

With your limited access it was hard to find what you were looking for, but you managed to randomly pull out a nice pair of jeans and a floral print blouse you’d thrifted last semester to change into. 

Before either of the boys up front could register what was happening you pulled your t-shirt off over your head and started shimmying out of your sweats. 

“What the fuck are you doing, y/n?” Sam hissed as the car swerved. 

To be fair, you were just straight up taking your pants off in his brother’s car, but in your defense he’d really left you no choice. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You snapped and looked back up at him defiantly, catching Tom’s eye in the rearview mirror as you did. 

“Keep your eyes on the fucking road, Tom.” Sam grumbled, shooting daggers back at you.

You blew him a kiss in return followed by the middle finger as you buttoned your jeans with your other hand. 

Tom laughed and turned to his brother. “I like her.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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[simpurnatural]

SFW Alphabet - Jack Manifold Edition

request: fluff alphabet with jack manifold ?

Jack Manifold x Reader

Warning ⚠️: Probably a swear word or two :)

Any writing errors? Point them out! Love some helpful feedback! <3

REQUESTS ARE OPEN LUVS <3

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Jack’s love language(s) is probably quality time and physical touch. He’s not one for PDA but he will hold and kiss your hand, kiss your cheek, and all the gentlemen type things.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He’s the chaotic friend that laughs at everything. The friendship would’ve started when you guys both in English at college. You thought he was funny and he thought that you were a dork so you guys clicked instantly.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Oh most definitely, Jack makes sure to get his daily hugs and cuddles in from anyone who is willing to give them to him.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Eventually yes, but barely being eighteen  he won’t be thinking about settling down with a family anytime soon. Lad can pour himself a pint but has probably burned water at least more than once. He’s a tidy man though, cleans after himself and makes sure to not leave any messes.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He’d stutter a bit but he’d eventually get to the point while holding your hand like:

“Listen, I don’t think this’ll work out.” 

But then he’d read your emotions wrong and start blabbering his ass off like:

“Well no- But yeah you’re a g-great person just not for me? But I assure you that there a plenty of fish in the sea! Wait- but not like actual fish that would-”

“-Jack, I get it.”

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

If and when he asks you to marry him, he knows he’s in it to win it and will be by your side till the end. He doesn’t think about getting married (in general) anytime soon since he’s still got a whole of adulting ahead of him. 

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Jack is a very gentle whether it’s in the way he holds you or in the way he speaks to you. He also is open to sharing how he feels about most things and is always ready to listen when you need him.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He LOVES hugs, especially if they’re from you. He turns those two second hugs into a cuddle session if there’s time for it. 

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He doesn’t say it too early in the relationship but it does come out when you both least expect it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He doesn’t get jealous easily but he’s a sarcastic little shit that scoffs whenever you try to ask.

“Is Jack Manifold jealous because of the guy from ASDA?” you tease.

“As if,”

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He usually kisses your cheek, hand, and or forehead the most. His kisses are always out of love and so soft. He likes being kissed on the cheek or the lips.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He's fine with kids but you know damn well that if he saw one trip over themselves then he’d be on the floor cackling. He knows how to properly hold a baby so that’s somethinf. 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He’d bring you a cup of tea in the morning with some jammie dodgers and enjoy laying in bed with you hours on end. 

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

You guys will literally watch anything whether it’s on youtube, netflix, hulu WHATEVER while laying in bed. He’d have a arm around your waist while you lay head on his chest. 

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Jack will literally talk about anything (but not in a self-absorbed way) if you’re willing to listen. He won’t blabber his whole life story but you get to learn something new about him everyday. 

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He’s very patient and rarely almost never raises his voice. Jack is a really chill and laid back lad.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?

He usually remembers most things but not everything.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite memory is when he asked you to be his girlfriend. He was a stuttering mess but you said 

“Oh get on with it Manifold!” “Or will I have to ask you myself?”

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He knows that you can hold your own but he knows when to step in. He’d probably speak for you if he sees that you were scared or at a lose of words. He likes knowing that his bff or s/o will kick someone’s ass if they try anything.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Depending on how you guys plan them. He can rock a suit yet build a pretty neat pillow fort. His gifts are you unique but always something that you’ve mentioned before. He’s good with everyday tasks like washing the dishes and doing the laundry.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

I hate to point it out but he bites his nails a bit. 

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not too concerned, he’s well aware that he’s a handsome fella.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yep. He’s the type to send you random texts/pics through-out the day saying miss you or can’t wait to see you soon.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

You guys play music regularly in your flat so jack tends to ask you to dance with him every now and then.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He doesn’t like a partner who won’t put in the effort to communicate properly with him or keeps their stuff tidy and organized.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He tends to sleep on his side, holding you close to his chest.

shoutout to @the-coldest-goodbye for the template <3

[wizardgame100]

Bro how did I forget to tell the amazing story David Frogeyes of Wizard101 when I made a Wizard101 blog finally

I’m going to lose my mind

So a while back I met someone on Wizard101 called “David Frogeyes” who was a Storm Student level 30 something and I BOY IS IT A TALE TO REMEMBER

I’m going to make it under the cut because it is LONG but PLEASE READ

I literally met The 101 Wizard I swear Story Time:

And so he runs off and we follow him outside for MORE LORE

My mans stands in the tree circle and is like “This is where I lost her.” Apparently he lost either his wife or girlfriend to the job as well, but was very vague and unclear about whether she died or simply left him. After a moment of sadness, we promised we would help him and keep the business going. For him and for those that came before us. And with that promise, we left his house and ended up in Wizard City. With about a minute of me sorting through my cards because I had to head to I think Cyclops Lane, and there he is. David Frogeyes appears to me. He says that the Wizard City Guards and an opposing mafia are hot on his trail already and this’ll be the last time I see him or even hear of his name. I begged him not to go, because now I’m invested, and I could *feel* him shake his head. He said goodbye to me and left everything to me. All of the mafia, all of the jobs, I was the head now, because he trusted me most. And then he was gone. He was off my friends list, he just fizzled away. Never to be seen or heard of again. David Frogeyes, know that I kept my promise. KI hates me, but I know I’m making you proud, bestie <3333

Rest in Void David Frogeyes you magnificent Storm Student Bastard

[shuadotcom]

Read Your Mind | KTH (M)

♦ Summary: You just want to find your friends and enjoy the party, but instead you find out that maybe you aren’t where you’re supposed to be.

♦ Pairing: Vampire!Taehyung x Human Female!Reader

♦ Genre: Vampire AU, supernatural AU

♦ Rating: NC17

♦ Warnings: Cursing, teasing, implied sex

♦ Word Count: 2.9k

♦ A/N: For @btsholidaybingo​​ | Bing Square: Vampire | Songspo: Read Your Mind - Avant

This has been 98% done for weeks, but I couldn’t write a proper ending for the life of me. Huge, giant thank you to Mars (@joheun-saram​) and Danna (@unoriginal-username15432​​) for beta reading this and helping me try and scrounge up an ending I didn’t hate! ❤️❤️

You can swear that Mingyu texted you the right address. The house number on your phone clearly reads 1230, which matches the numbers on the beige paneled house in front of you. The street is quite dark for it to be nearly 10:30 pm on Halloween night, but the music is loud enough that you can hear it from the sidewalk.

You glance at your texts once more and make your way up to the porch, music blaring as soon as you open the door. The inside of the house is not as dark as it looked from the outside, but it’s still dim, and there aren’t enough lights. Surprisingly, it doesn't smell like cheap beer and weed, which you’re used to smelling, having been to many house parties. Instead, the air is reminiscent of burning incense and something that you can only describe as a coppery scent.

Squinting, you see if you can recognize any of the nearby faces, but you can’t place a name to anyone around you. You pull your phone out of your clutch and shoot a quick text message to the group chat to see where your friends are.

Y/n: Hellooooooo I just walked in. Where are you losers?

Mingyu: Wow and only an hour and a half late

Wonwoo: We’re in the kitchen

Vernon: I will literally down all of these jell-o shots if you don’t get your ass in here

Y/n: IF THAT INCLUDES THE CHERRY ONES I WILL END YOU CHWE 😡

Vernon: 🍒👅

Y/n: 🔪🔪

With nothing but cherry jell-o and strangling your friend on your mind, you miss the multiple sets of eyes staring at you until you put your phone away. A group of costumed party-goers is watching your every move from where they’re standing near the staircase. At least two of them have glowing red contacts, which doesn’t help your unease. Eager to leave, your eyes scan the room, and you decide to venture to the left of the house, away from most of the crowd.

Upon reaching the kitchen, you don’t see Mingyu, Vernon, or any of your other friends. The kitchen itself is empty altogether. After sending a quick text telling your friends to stop fucking with you, you decide a drink is in order.

A quick survey of the dismal spread tells you your only options are clear bottles of red wine and a punch bowl of what you can only assume is jungle juice or another alcoholic punch concoction.

Deciding on the punch, you ladle yourself a cup. It’s oddly thick when you scoop it, and it drips instead of pours into your plastic cup. Taking a sniff, you notice it’s the same coppery smell that got your attention when you first walked in. Up close, the scent makes you gag, and you recoil. What the fuck is in this drink?

Before you can take a cautionary sip, the sense of a presence has you halting and whipping around, only to knock into the solid body that appeared behind you. Two sturdy arms belonging to the man who caught you wrap around your waist, keeping you from busting your ass completely.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” You laugh awkwardly and try to remove yourself from his arms, but his grip is much stronger than yours.

“No need to apologize, doll. It’s an honor to be this close to you.” You narrow your eyes at him. Something about his tone is off, and you don’t like it. With a quick survey of him, you see that admittedly, he’s extremely good looking. Between his dark, curly hair, thick thighs, and tattoos peeking through the sheer sleeve of his grey shirt, he’s definitely your type, but again, something is off, and you can’t pinpoint it. Even in a bunny-eared headband and a painted-on pink nose, it doesn’t seem right to be here with him like this.

“Well, uh, thank you,” Again, you attempt to wiggle out of his hold, but instead, he pulls you closer, burying his nose into your neck. “What the f-”

“Do you have any idea how divine you smell?”

“Thank you? Look, just l-let me g-go,” A sudden fuzzy sensation takes over your body, and your ability to form coherent sentences seems harder than earlier. You hadn’t even taken a sip of punch, so you know it can’t be that.

The mystery bunny man uses your lethargy to his advantage and places a few kisses on your neck. His lips are cold and send a chill through your body. You want to shove him away, but your mind is hazy.

“This’ll only hurt a bit, doll, but you’ll like it, I promise,” he murmurs into your skin. Your mouth won’t let you ask what he means, but then you feel the sharpness of his teeth grazing your skin. Your brain is screaming, but no sound leaves your lips. This is wrong. Very, very wrong. Are you seriously about to be bitten by a vampire?

“Jungkook, what do you think you’re doing?” A deep voice ringing out through the kitchen has the man you now know as Jungkook pausing before his teeth pierce your skin.

He lets out a scoff and pulls away from you. “Oh, come on, Hyung, what does it look like?”

The man enters your vision from behind Jungkook, and you make eye contact, doing your best to plead with him without words.

“Let her go and stop using your powers on her. Poor girl’s eyes look as dead as your heart.”

Jungkook mumbles something you can’t hear under his breath and releases the hold he has on you. You slump back, and in an instant, the fog that was swirling around your head lifts. You blink a few times as your senses return.

“You’re no fun.” Jungkook pouts at the other man before stomping out of the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

After watching Jungkook go, the man turns back to you, his chocolate eyes scanning you from head to toe. You can’t help but shrink further under his gaze. His vibe is different from Jungkook’s, less menacing, but he is just as attractive, which still makes you nervous. Slicked back black hair showcases intense eyebrows and a chiseled jaw. He’s tall and not as muscular but can still clearly throw you around like a doll if he wanted to. And honestly, you kind of want him to.

“I do apologize on behalf of him. He’s the youngest of my brothers and still behaves recklessly sometimes.” He smiles widely, and you see fangs poking out, even though he is very clearly wearing the signature purple suit of the Joker. “I’m Taehyung, and I like your costume, by the way. Are you a leopard?”

You adjust your leopard print jumpsuit, suddenly very aware of how form-fitting it is. “Y/n. And no, I’m Scary Spice. You know, from the Spice Girls?” This makes him chuckle.

“Of course, my mistake.”

You point towards his outfit. “If you’re the Joker, why isn’t your face done up to match?”

Taehyung shrugs. “It’s an old costume that I threw on last minute. I didn’t have much time for the whole thing.” He’s still smirking at you. “What’s the matter, kitten?” He asks, but his tone suggests that he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You do your best to ignore the way his use of the pet name affects you. “I just want to find my friends. They should be here waiting for me.”

“Oh? Who are your friends? I know everyone at this party.”

“Uh, do you know Mingyu, Vernon, Wonwoo, or Seungcheol? They’re dressed as the other four Spice Girls, so they’re not hard to miss.”

After a few seconds of thinking, the man shakes his head. “Nope, can’t say anyone by those names are here...but I think you knew that already.” He starts to advance towards you, trapping you in place. “It seems you’ve stumbled into the wrong Halloween party, kitten.”

You dig your phone out of your clutch and double-check the address, showing it to him. He shakes his head. “That’s the next street over.”

Something had told you before even walking into the house that something was wrong, but hearing Taehyung confirm it proved that you weren’t just paranoid. The smell of copper and the red liquid in the kitchen, the alleged glowing contacts of people in the front room, and the fact that Jungkook nearly took a literal bite out of you all pointed to what this was. You believed in the supernatural, sure, but it was never at the forefront of your mind that you would run into a supernatural person. Until tonight.

“How interesting,” Taehyung starts. “The realization that you’ve shown up to a party hosted by a house full of vampires doesn’t seem to stress you out nearly as much as it should. Why is that?”

You’re honestly not sure, and when you tell him that, he laughs. “You know, you humans are always so fascinated with the supernatural, especially with us. We’re truly not that different than you all, you know.” Taehyung has you pressed against the counter, and you know he can hear how fast your heart is beating. You watch as his eyes flicker from brown to a deep red color.

The way he’s looking at you is different from Jungkook’s earlier gaze. The latter made you feel helpless since you had seemingly lost control over yourself. It was scary, and you are more than glad that Taehyung swooped in when he did. With him, though, the way that he’s hovering over you and studying your face is exhilarating.

Maybe you’ve finally lost it. Maybe every failed relationship you’ve had has finally gotten to you. Perhaps you’re that desperate right now. Either way, being in the arms of a vampire is better than any human you’ve been this close to.

“Your heart is racing right now. I already know the answer, but tell me anyway; what are you thinking?” He’s so close to you that his lips graze your earlobe. All of your senses are on high alert in the best way possible.

“About you.”

“And what about me?”

“Kissing you.”

Taehyung chuckles and licks his lips. Slow and deliberate. “Oh my, how forward of you. We’ve only just met, kitten.”

You stutter as a blush creeps up your neck. “I-I’m-”

“I’m only teasing you.” Taehyung’s nimble fingers come up to toy with one of your bra straps peeking out of the neckline of your jumpsuit. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you since you walked through the front door.”

He watched you walk in? How long had he been watching you? Before you can ask him, his lips are pressing into yours with a sense of urgency as he brings his body closer to yours. The marble countertop digging into your back is insignificant compared to the way your body buzzes in response to Taehyung. His mouth tastes sweet, and his lips are so soft, which are both heavy contrasts to the way his broad hands are gripping your hips so tight you’re sure you’re bruising through your outfit.

The way his teeth nip at your bottom lip elicits a soft moan from you. He uses the opportunity to suck your tongue into his mouth, and your quiet sounds grow louder, as does the stickiness in your panties. His sharp canines graze against your tongue, and you’re so close to begging him to take you on the kitchen floor of this strange house. Just as you begin rutting against his muscled thigh between your legs, he pulls away, leaving you panting and whimpering.

“You’ve got to go now, kitten.”

“Wh-What?” Your body is still buzzing while Taehyung looks much more composed.

“Your friends are waiting for you.”

“But I don’t want to.” You whine out, sounding childish, but you don’t care. You can’t believe he’s just going to leave you like this.

“Just close your eyes for me. Can you do that?” He’s whispering in your ear again, and your knees nearly buckle.

“Taehyung, I want you so bad.” Your words echo, and they sound slurred. It’s harder to open your eyes.

“And you’ll have me, kitten. Soon.” He places a kiss on your neck, and the same woozy, disconnected sensation you had felt with Jungkook washes over you. You can’t open your eyes, and you want so badly to say something to Taehyung, but your tongue feels impossibly heavy, and you seemingly have forgotten how to speak. Before you can gather any more thoughts, everything goes quiet and dark.

“Y/n? Wake up.” Hearing your name brings you out of your sleep-like state. As your eyes open and adjust, you anticipate the chiseled face of the vampire you were just kissing, but instead of seeing Taehyung’s piercing red eyes, you’re met with Mingyu’s brown ones.

Sitting up fast, you see your friend kneeling in front of you. Vernon, Wonwoo, and Seungcheol stand behind him with matching looks of concern mixed with annoyance.

“What’s going on?” You ask, thoroughly confused.

“We’ve been looking for you for like an hour! You stopped answering our texts, so we practically turned the house upside down, trying to find you!” Vernon explained.

“Come to find out you’re just here in the living room. Passed out on the couch.” Seungcheol deadpans.

Looking around, you see that you’re lying on a grey cloth couch. Around you is the rest of the party. A few people are glancing your way in concern, but for the most part, the remainder of the partygoers don’t notice you or your friends. The room is well lit and reeks of beer. The complete opposite of the house full of vampires you had just been in.

Or that you thought you had just been in.

“Where’s Taehyung?”

“Who?” Mingyu offers you his hand, which you take.

“Taehyung. Dark hair, dressed as the Joker.”

“The only guy here I’ve seen dressed at the Joker is Minghao.” Wonwoo gestures to another mutual friend across the room whose tongue is currently down a Harley Quinn’s throat.

“Well, now that we know you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere, are you up to actually enjoy the rest of the party?” Vernon asks as he adjusts his Sporty Spice track pants.

You agree and follow your friends over to another group of people you all know. Your head doesn’t hurt, and the fog over your mind is completely clear, but you’re still confused. Recalling the handful of shots you threw back before you left home to pregame, you try to remember if it was enough to cause you to blackout on the couch. Your dream felt so real, from how Jungkook influenced your mind to the pure need that Taehyung filled you with. You can practically still feel his grip on your body and his mouth on yours.

When Vernon offers you a glass of water, you down it in less than a minute to calm your vivid memories of Taehyung and the dull ache between your legs.

Only another hour goes by before you, and your friends say your goodbyes and pile into your respective Ubers. Once you’re home, you get ready for bed with your mind still stuck on your dream and Taehyung. You think of him as you undress and shower, not able to resist touching yourself at the realistic sensation of him.

He’s still on your mind as you settle into bed and attempt to distract yourself by scrolling through Twitter. You’re so caught up in your head that you don’t even notice the figure reclining on your couch across the room until he clears his throat.

Nearly jumping out of your skin, you sit up and whip around, ready to fight your intruder. You abandon this quickly when you see him stand up.

“Taehyung?”

“Hello, kitten,” his smooth, deep baritone echoes through the quiet room. He is at your bedside in no time, your studio apartment not leaving much space between the two of you, to begin with.

“I-I thought, uh, I thought you were a dream,” you stutter as he crawls onto your bed. You notice he’s no longer in his Joker costume, but a pair of black slacks and loose, white button-down instead. He still looks breathtaking. “I was with you...but then I wasn’t? I was with my friends, and you were gone, and I-”

���Ssh,” he places a finger over your lips. “Don’t worry about that right now, kitten. I’m here now, and we need to finish what we started.” His hand travels up your thigh as he speaks, fingers dangerously close to your core. “I heard you in the shower a little bit ago. I know how much you missed me.”

Did you fall asleep with your phone in your hand? Is this truly happening?

You aren’t entirely sure, but the way Taehyung suddenly tears your shirt open and latches his lips around your nipple feels very real to you. The number of times he has you orgasming into the night is also very real, and the soreness you feel throughout your body stays with you even as you wake the next morning.

It’s obvious Taehyung is determined to make sure you stop doubting his existence and thinking your time together is some sort of dream, even if it takes him the entirety of the day and into the rest of the weekend.

[mrslilyrogers]

Betrayal Part 7

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: (AU) Set in New York. You and Bucky have been married for 5 years. He’s the love of your life and you are his. At least, you thought you were until he started slipping away from you, coming home late and smelling of another woman’s perfume? You are in denial. Are you just losing your mind or are you really losing him?

Author’s notes: I’m so so sorry this took so long! I redid the whole thing. We’re going to back up a bit in this chapter and visit the past. Please check the warnings before reading. Also, my requests are open. Send ideas if you’re feeling particularly angsty! Or even fluff, I’d like to try my hand at it. As always, let me know what you think of this chapter! For tags, please send in ask! 

Warnings: Cheating, Angst, Abuse, Swearing

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4  Part 5 Part 6

2 years ago.

Bucky tapped his fingers on the table as he checked his watch again. 8:15. Forty-five minutes late. Again. He let out a huge sigh, barely able to hold himself from scratching his eyes out. The curly-haired waitress went back to him with an apologetic look on her face, “I’m sorry, sir. My manager told me I really need to take your order now. There’s already a line waiting outside…” she let her sentence trail sheepishly. Bucky tried to ignore the heat creeping up his cheeks and gave her an unconvincing smile instead, reciting his order. When she left with visible relief on her face, he picked up his phone and called his wife again. He had tried to call and text her earlier but she hadn’t picked up.

“Hello?” Y/N answered, sounding frazzled and irritated as she cleaned up after her rude customer. He just had the audacity to leave a mess after complaining and whining about the wifi three times. She could barely keep her eyes from rolling. 

“Hey, babe. Where are you? I’ve been waiting for you at the restaurant,” Bucky’s defeated voice on the other line replied. 

“Oh shit!” She shrieked, attracting the heads of the other customers as she glanced at the clock on the wall. She had lost track of time. Bucky had been waiting for her for almost an hour. On their anniversary. Oh crap, crap, crap. 

“Oh my god, baby. I’m so sorry! I’m understaffed and I lost track of time! Could you please wait for me? I’m so sorry!” She quickly took off her apron and changed into the dress she had brought with her that morning for their date. Bucky had been planning this. He arranged for Lizzie’s babysitter and everything, practically bouncing off with excitement for this night. He wanted to try out this new restaurant and between raising Lizzie and making sure Winter Bakery was still making a profit, they haven’t seen much of each other lately. She just couldn’t find the time whereas Bucky’s stable position in Shield gave him more authority to delegate. And he literally had been trained for this for years. All those late-nighters at the university and all the grunt work he and Steve went through have finally paid up. They were at the top of their game, one of the youngest to acquire their positions. They were heroes in the investment banking world. Life was easy for him now, cherry on top of the cake. He only wished Y/N could be there with him. But she was still on shaky ground with her business and he fully understood that. 

“Of course! I already picked our appetizers though. They were trying their best to kick me out gently if I didn’t order anything,” 

“Oh, my poor Bucky. You should’ve flashed them your smile, charmed your way. They would’ve made you stay,” she replied, fixing her ponytail, not having the time to retouch her makeup anymore. This’ll just have to do. 

“Really, now. It was a waitress, you know.” He teased back. 

A beat before Y/N replied in mock seriousness. “In that case, don’t you dare. I’ll be there in 15!” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it. See you, babe. I love you--,”��

But before he could even finish his sentence, the line had dropped on the other end.  

_______________________________________________________________________

1 year ago.

“Daddy, look, apples!” Lizzie pointed from her seat in the grocery cart. Her legs swinging as she giggled at the heap of apples on their side. “Yeah, baby, you’re right.” Bucky replied absentmindedly, not even bothering to look as he stared confusedly at the bunch of green vegetables in front of him. The list Y/N gave him said scallions, but how the hell was he supposed to know which was which? Scallions, spring onions, green onions, they were all the same right? He suddenly regretted volunteering to do their grocery shopping alone, having no clue what half of the list Y/N prepared even meant. It was the weekend, they were all supposed to go together and then have a quick visit to the toy store after, for one more of Lizzie’s birthday gifts. She had just turned 3 a week ago and he couldn’t help but promise to let her pick out another doll. When Y/N had given him a pointed look while Lizzie clung on and gushed to him, he couldn’t help but to just give her a tiny shrug. He grew up with nothing, he was gonna give his little girl everything. But that morning when he thought the three of them finally had time to spend together, Y/N couldn’t make it again. She was having problems with her manager and had to go into work unexpectedly. Now, she wasn’t even answering his calls when he had to ask her about the most complicated grocery list he’s ever seen in his whole life. 

“Daddy, when are we getting my doll?” Lizzie asked again, looking up at him as she clutched her favorite white wolf stuffed toy. 

“After this, sweetheart.” He answered, preoccupied and calling Y/N again. This time when she didn’t answer, he gave up, grabbed the one nearest to him and hoped for the best. 

When he’s gotten halfway through the list and let Lizzie point at the snacks she wanted for school, he let his mind wander, when the hell had they become like this? He barely saw his wife anymore. Her problems with her bakery cafe, always dragging her away from them. He wished she could find competent people who would stay but if it weren’t her manager, it was her baker and so on. And if she was finally free, he’d be the one who was busy. It was hard and annoying but coupled that with taking care of an over-enthusiastic three-year-old, it was also exhausting.

He missed Y/N and he wished he could spend time with her. He completely understood that she was always needed at work. He had been through that in their early 20s, but they didn’t have a kid then to compete for their time and understanding it was different from actually living it. Their marriage had become stagnant. The banality of their everyday life, a stark contrast to how they used to be when they were just a couple of kids off college who rented a too-small apartment with his little sister, Becca. Time has flown and he’s finally achieved the life he’s always wanted; a big duplex apartment, a steady high-income job and a family he had always yearned for but never really knew he needed. All of the things he promised himself when he was younger and had nothing, he had now and more, yet there was still something missing. He missed the thrill of his life, chasing his dreams had always kept him motivated, distracted. Now that he had it all, he was at his wits’ end. Maybe it was because they were also growing apart, he could feel it. Y/N had always been able to make him happy and whole; he had always been able to rely on her emotionally. She was the better part of him and now that she was becoming distant, he hung onto her like a lifeline but his insistence on going on vacations as a family wherever his wife and daughter wanted went unheard, all his attempts at romancing cancelled. 

Even as he lined up now for the cashier, he whipped out his phone to text her. His hands had been busy typing when a brooding, dark-haired man stood behind him dressed in all black. His arms were muscled despite his age and the sagging skin on his right arm holding a tattoo of an odd skull with tentacles extending out of it was barely covered by his shirtsleeve. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t little Bucky,” a familiar husky voice mocked from behind him. 

Bucky immediately felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, the voice sending a deep chill down his spine, making him go rigid as he slowly turned around, the blood draining from him when he went face to face with the man who had made his life a living hell, the man who not only broken him physically but in spirit as well. Repeatedly. 

“You some errand boy now? I didn’t raise you to be like that, you know,” He continued to mock, tipping his chin to the cart with Lizzie still on it. 

“Do you know him, daddy?” She asked, holding her little wolf tighter as she watched the stranger warily. 

“Hey there, sweetie. Your daddy didn’t tell you about me? That’s weird. I raised him and your aunt Rebecca a long time ago. My name is Rumlow,” he flashed her a chilling smile, stepping closer to offer his hand. That’s when the fog in Bucky’s brain cleared. He moved with a lightning fast reflex, stepping in between them as he got in Rumlow’s face, fisting his collar harshly in one hand, 

“Don’t you dare go near her,” his dark and low voice had threatened, dripping venom. His eyes had dilated, almost turning black as he shoved him hard. Rumlow’s grating laugh echoed around them, bringing back all those awful memories he had buried deep inside his head. 

“I’ve taught you well, boy. Can’t say I’m not proud,” He clapped and actually smiled at him smugly. At this point, Lizzie had started crying making Bucky even more furious. 

“I don’t ever want to see your face again. And if you go near my daughter again, I’ll make you fucking regret it. Do you understand?” His threats went on deaf ears as Rumlow broke out into a full-fledged grin. 

“I’d love to see you try, James. You’ve grown soft,” He accused, eyeing Lizzie and the grocery he had still lined up, several heads already looking at them. 

“Lucky for you. I have a new son here,” He continued, tilting his head to the boy standing by his mostly empty cart-- save for the beer and the liquor. Bucky flicked his attention to the boy and he felt his world spin as he saw himself in him with his eyes haunted, wary and afraid. He couldn’t have been older than eight. Rumlow smirked at the look on Bucky’s face, already detecting the turmoil brewing inside him. He had succeeded. He always knew Bucky was weak, his emotions his downfall. The fear and guilt clearly written in Bucky’s eyes made Rumlow gloat as he talked to the boy, 

“What did I say, Bert, huh? You’ll only have food if you go get it yourself. Why are you still standing there?” 

The boy looked around the big grocery store, mentally taking note of the stalls and where they were currently at, memorizing it in case he got lost but still, he didn’t move. Bucky looked at Rumlow and he saw the same look he’d always had directed at him before, his taunting eyes daring the boy to go or face the consequences. 

“But I’m scared,” the boy replied, his voice small and frightened. Rumlow moved to him, bending his knees to get to his eye level. “Well then, you just won’t have to eat,” he told him in a hushed voice, pouting and mocking. 

Bucky didn’t have to hear it to know the exact words, buried memories rushing back to the surface. He heard it countless times directed at him. The boy ran to the nearest stall, his heart pounding and hoping Rumlow would still be at that same spot when he came running back. Bucky knew the feeling, it was like he was living it all over again. As much as he wanted to help, he was rooted to the spot, even Lizzie’s crying couldn’t move him. Rumlow stood back up and faced him. “You were always my favorite,” he told him proudly as he pushed his own cart away from them, no doubt to give Bert an even harder chance of finding him. 

Just before he got too far, he swiftly turned around, feigning innocence as he said, “Oh and by the way, say hi to Rebecca for me,”  His lips twisted up into a sneering smirk as he left, whistling without a care in the world. And just like that Bucky was moving, grabbing Lizzie and getting out of that store as fast as he could, hoping Rumlow would stay out of his life forever. 

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

“I’m never letting you do the groceries again!” Y/N screeched, a horrified look on her face as she stared at their fridge. After the incident with Rumlow, Bucky had brought Lizzie to the toy store, allowing her to buy all the stuffed toys and dolls she wanted instead of just the previously promised one doll. They had gone to lunch after, he kept Lizzie distracted as much as possible to forget the man she had just met. When she brought him up again, he told her it was just a friend he didn’t like very much and that she shouldn’t bring it up to her mom because it was nothing, he promised he never had to see that man again. Lizzie seemed satisfied with his answer and went back to her usual chirpy self. On their way home, they passed by another grocery store. He had mindlessly strolled the aisles and grabbed whatever he thought they needed, his head at a different place, much as it still is now.

“Bucky, we don’t need four cartons of milk, why would you even get this?” Y/N asked incredulously, shaking her head as she chuckled. 

Bucky had been staring off into space, not hearing what his wife had been saying. “Uhm, hello Bucky, you still with me?” she teased, waving a hand in front of his face. 

“Oh sorry, what was that?” He asked, glancing up at her from his perch by the kitchen counter. The coffee he had brewed, now cold in his hands. 

“Hey, you okay?” she asked, looking at him with concern in her eyes. 

“Yeah, just didn’t sleep well,” he waved dismissively. Y/N felt a pang of guilt. He’d been bugging her to spend more time together, planning outings and dates that she never seemed to find time for. 

“Well, I finally have the day free. Why don’t we go out, watch a movie or have a picnic? It’ll be fun,” she suggested, draping a hand over his shoulder while her chin rested on the other, her elbow propped up on the countertop to keep an eye level with him. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry, babe. I promised to meet up with Thor,” he moved away from her touch, standing up. Y/N looked at him confusedly, “Okay, how about after?”

“Gotta go over some accounts with Sam, sorry love. I’ll be back before dinner,” He gave her a quick kiss to the cheek before heading out. Y/N stared after him, brows knitted, before shrugging. She’ll just get her errands around the house done then. 

After pounding the punching bag in Thor’s gym incessantly, Bucky found himself aimlessly walking around the streets, he just needed to clear his head. The little boy’s face was still etched in his mind as he opened the door to a bar. A little too early, he knew but he couldn’t shake off the nagging thought plaguing his mind. 

How could he have let that monster roam free while he had lived his life without even a glance back? 

_______________________________________________________________________

Years ago.

Bucky held Becca’s hand as they ascended the rickety steps of their new home. They had just lost their parents and were now moving into an unfamiliar house. The case worker had told them they were lucky not to be separated and that they shouldn’t worry; they were getting a good foster father who would take care of them from now on. 

“I had interviewed him myself, you see,” She told the children, beaming with pride. 

“I couldn’t have found a better one for you guys, why, this area is still very close to where you grew up in. You could still visit your old haunts,” She ruffled Becca’s hair, trying to lighten the mood while the little girl just moved farther away, hiding behind her big brother. The worn-out door which at once might have been painted pristine white but now had chippings hanging off of it suddenly opened with a creak, a man with a charming and easy nature stepped out with a warm smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“You guys are here! Welcome, welcome, please come in!” He gestured humbly to his house. Becca squeezed Bucky’s hand tighter which he squeezed back in return, reassuring her. There was something about this man that wasn’t quite right. He seemed relaxed and easy-going, a smile continuously plastered on his face but there was a lethality to him that the children couldn’t seem to shake off, almost as if it was buried deep inside waiting to be unleashed. The case worker hung on his every word, giggling as they talked. She slapped his arm with the horrible looking tattoo that gave Becca a fright. The children barely moved from the sofa they were seated at after the introductions. 

“It’s usually like this. Don’t worry. They start to open up after a while,” the case worker sympathized with Brock, the man who introduced himself as their new foster father; he would treat them as his own, he had promised. 

“It’s alright. I understand. After my wife, I’ve been all alone and this, this is a blessing to me,” He told her as he turned to the children. Her hand strayed to his arm again and lingered there. 

“Oh, Brock, you are a good man. They’re great children, they won’t give you trouble.” She replied, patting his arm for reassurance. It didn’t miss Bucky how she hung off his every word. 

“But I should get going, I will check up on you in a week. Children, be good. You have my number if you need anything,” She stood up, smoothing the wrinkles on her blazer.

“Wait, you’re leaving us already?” Bucky couldn’t help the whine that escaped his voice. He didn’t miss the darkness that spilled over Brock’s face for a split second before he carefully put his smile back on again. 

“I’ll be back in a week, Bucky. Don’t you worry,” the case worker smiled before she walked out the door leaving him and Becca to a stranger. 

When she was out of sight, Brock had suddenly changed his demeanor. The smile on his face had turned into a scowl when he faced them. “Alright, listen up both of you,”  he boomed, his voice cruel. “Grab your things and get on to your rooms. I don’t want to hear any noise. No running around, and if I see you making a mess. You bet your little asses, you’ll pay for it,” He stood up and left them to their bags. 

“But Mr. Brock, I’m thirsty,” Becca piped up, looking up at him timidly. The man’s grating laugh rumbled as he threw his head back, shaking it.  

“That’s Rumlow to both of you, you hear me?  Don’t make that mistake again. Now, come here,” He said, beckoning both the children to come over. Once they reached the kitchen, he pointed to the high cupboard. “You see that?” He asked Becca, dropping low to get to her eye level. When she just nodded her head, he continued, “That’s where the glasses and the plates are. If you want something in this house, you go get it yourself. I’m not your nanny,” He held Becca’s face in his hand roughly. His fingers wrapped around her cheeks tight as he held her by the chin. Bucky felt his fists clench at his sides, pushing Rumlow as far as he could with his eleven year old might.  

“Stop that!” He screamed. Their parents never hurt them. How dare this man think he could do this to his little sister? 

“Oh you wanna be the man of the house?” Rumlow jeered, shoving Bucky back making him fall to the floor. Becca’s sniffles grew louder as she tried to stop her crying, her shoulders shaking from her effort. As Bucky lay sprawled, Rumlow scooted down menacingly to him, 

“You dare push me when you were just whining like a little bitch a while ago, you wanna man up? Alright, I’ll allow it,” he taunted, pondering it for a moment before his sinister smile came back on. “Let’s see how long you’ll last protecting your little sister.” He gripped his face by the chin, fingers squeezing exceedingly tight on his cheeks before he pushed him off and he hit the floor. 

“I won’t be some parent to you that you could twist around your little fingers, no. I’ll make you into the best man you could be. I will teach you about order. And order only comes through pain,” He drilled into him like a soldier as he stretched his legs back up, his measured steps going to the fridge to fish out a beer. He took a long gulp before he continued, 

“And the sooner you learned that, the better,” 

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

Bucky sat alone at one of the benches by the field at his school, choosing solitude over the roar of the cafeteria after a particularly bad morning at home. Their foster father had woken up drunk and had haphazardly thrown things at them when Bucky accidentally burnt the eggs he had been cooking for his and Becca’s packed lunch for school. He picked on the peanut butter sandwich he prepared, not having the appetite to eat when he heard jeering voices from a group of boys and sounds of flesh being hit again and again with accompanying grunts of pain. He felt his feet move on instinct when he found them by the bleachers, a scrawny boy at the center of a group huddling over him, they were laughing as he tried to fight them off, not once being able to land a punch. The blood pumped in Bucky’s veins, a constant beating in his ears, as he grabbed the biggest of the bullies by the collar and harshly yanked him off the tiny, blonde boy now sprawled on the floor with his skinny arms covering his face. When one of the other kids tried to punch him, he deftly moved out of the way and delivered a swift blow to his stomach, making sure to spare his face so as not to get in trouble. That was how Rumlow did it, might as well use the same trick right? 

“What? Who wants to go next?” He threatened, loving the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the power he had with defending someone so helpless. The lanky blonde boy stood up beside him, blood dripping from his mouth as he held both his fists up, “I can do this all day,” he said, catching his breath but his stance clearly indicated he could barely stand up straight. Bucky just looked at him weirdly, not knowing whether to find him stupid or brave. The bullies stood against them, unsure. Bucky was the same age as them, only slightly bigger. Him and the blonde boy were still clearly outnumbered but Bucky’s eyes held a lethal strength in them, his body coiled with unleashed brutality, ready to fight. The bullies scrambled out of there as fast as they could, their feet tripping over them. 

“Yeah next time, pick on someone your own size!” he hollered before looking back at the blonde boy who looked younger than them but held himself with such maturity that it didn’t seem possible. He decided right then and there he was going to make him his new friend. Rumlow had always taught him about his belief of the natural order of the world, that strength and might always won the day and that order could only be achieved through pain. If you could inflict it on others, you were stronger, better. Weaker men were useless, had to be beaten up and put in their place. “That’s just the way of the world,” he had said. But Bucky was old and smart enough to see right through his facade. He was a bully, feeding off of people who couldn’t fight back. Bucky was going to be different, he wouldn’t bow down to his will. He just needed to protect his sister, spare her from the taint of Rumlow’s anger and prove that he wouldn't become the man Rumlow has been conditioning him to be. 

“You alright?” Bucky asked the boy standing beside him who was touching the bruise forming on his forehead.

“Yeah, thanks for helping me,” he replied sheepishly, ashamed he couldn’t fight for himself.

“Next time, just don’t provoke them, they aren’t worth it.” 

“But they were wrong. Bullies, I’d always stand up to them,” the blonde brushed his hair back from his forehead, determination steeling his voice. Bucky smiled, maybe he could learn a thing or two from this boy too. 

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Steve, what’s yours?”

“Bucky. Steve, you’re a little punk. You know that?” he said teasingly, laughing. 

Steve grinned back, “Jerk,” 

_______________________________________________________________________

Present

The light filtered into the room as the curtains were drawn back harshly causing Bucky to groan on his bed, flitting a pillow to cover his eyes. 

“Buck, come on. Get up,” Steve’s firm voice spoke through the fog in his mind. 

“Get out, Steve, I’m sleeping.” he replied, turning his back to the hand shaking his shoulder.

“How long are you going to do this? It’s been two weeks. Have you even talked to your family yet?” Steve’s judgmental voice rang out, hard and unforgiving. 

“She doesn’t even wanna see me,” he huffed, anger at himself boiling in his veins. He hasn’t seen his daughter in two weeks. Y/N’s short, cold replies to his messages were just updates on how Lizzie was doing, anything regarding Y/N, he had no idea about. He didn’t even know what sort of excuses she made up for Lizzie, how his “work trip” kept getting extended. When the hell could they keep that charade up? He was lucky enough she was letting him talk to his daughter on the phone for a few minutes every once in a while. He sat up on the bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he reached for the bottle of whiskey at the bedside table. These days he could only fall asleep when he’s had one too many to drink and even then, he’d still wake up with a headache that could only be dulled by alcohol. He barely even made it to work everyday. Sam had been good enough to cover for him, staying on neutral ground with everything that’s happening to his marriage although his eyes said otherwise, disappointment etched in them. All the while Steve had ignored him the entire time since the hospital. No amount of apologies moved him from his stance except today, when he suddenly barged into the hotel room Bucky has been renting like he owned the place. 

“Jesus, Bucky, stop that!” He swiped the bottle Bucky held between his lips, splashing amber liquid on his shirt and bed. 

“Damn it, Steve! Look what you did!  Give that back,” Bucky held his arm out, his reflexes slow as he tried to grab it from his friend. 

“Jesus Christ. You smell terrible. How much have you had to drink last night?” Steve fanned the air around him trying to rid the stench of alcohol and sweat.

“How the hell did you even get in here?” Bucky’s pissed off voice grumbled but one look at Steve’s intense stare with his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched, standing straight as a drill sergeant, arms crossed at his chest with his muscles bulging out of his fitted gray Under Armour shirt; he knew. The punk had intimidated his way in. No doubt leaving a poor breathless, flustered receptionist in his wake. 

“You could get that receptionist fired, you know?” He tried appealing to his best friend’s better nature.

“You wouldn’t tell. Plus, it isn’t as if she didn’t get a hefty tip. Go take a shower, Buck, you stink.” Steve didn’t budge, staring him down with a disgusted look on his face. Bucky just scoffed, 

“And then what? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Y/N kicked me out, man. Just go home, you’re wasting your time.” 

Steve’s hardened face softened as he looked at his friend. His eyes were puffy, his skin pale as he scratched his wildly unkempt beard, his greasy hair sticking out on one side. What the hell had happened to Bucky? How had it gone so bad for his friend in a matter of days? He suddenly moved out of instinct, collecting clothes strewn everywhere and packed them into the suitcase at the corner of the room. 

“Steve, what the hell are you doing?” Bucky exhaled loudly. It was too early for this. Where the hell was his drink? 

“Get your ass moving, Bucky. You’re staying at my place,”

[comingtothetree23]

Chrome Girl

Paring: Peter Parker x reader

Warnings: Swearing, not Mcu cannon, Infinity Train spoilers (Kinda), the usual.

Word count: 2k

Summary: You just wanted to be a person but the world doesn't want you to be. Everyone was against you, everyone except for Peter Parker.

A/n: Reader is based off the character ‘M.T.’ in the show ‘Infinity Train’ so if you haven’t seen the show you probably won’t get it. If you haven’t seen Infinity train you really should, it’s an amazing show.

"So uh, what is this thing exactly?" Peter asked he followed Tony and Strange. Strange just told the avengers that something escaped and they needed to find it.

"A sliver." Strange responded which confused Peter more than anything?

"'Sliver'?" Peter questioned as he walked faster to keep up with the two. 

"A sliver is a reflection that's gone rogue. They are never supposed to be in our world but this one escape and it's our job it gets it back."  Strange explains.

"So our reflection are people?' Peter questioned as he looks down at a puddle staring at himself.

"That's not the point, the point is we find-" There was a crunch in the distance making everyone freeze. Everyone froze and they listen around them. 

Peter frowned as his enhanced hearing picked something up, something only he can hear. He hears heavy breathing and mumbling from no too far away. He also heard his teammate's footsteps moving closer to the being.

"Hey! let me go!" They heard a voice scream. 

"We got it!" They heard Nat yell as they all run toward the sounds. Peter didn't know what to expect but it certainly wasn't this.

Nat and Sam were trying to hold the girl back, the girl had metal skin along with sliver hair even her clothes seemed to be made out of metal. He watched as the girl struggled against the two avengers.

"Let me go! I didn't do anything wrong!" You screamed as you looked at the people around you.

"You left your world, left your post, left your prime, just so you could what? Act as you belong here?" Strange questions as he steps forward.

"I am a person!" You screamed Peter frowned as he saw tears prickling your eyes.

"No, you're a reflection and that's all you'll ever be." Strange knelt down to make eye contact with you, "I'm sorry but you know what's about to happen." 

Your eyes widen at this before anyone could do anything you stomped your foot onto Sams, making him cry out and let go of your arm. With your freed arm you punched Nat before sprinting away.

"Get her, she can't escape!" With that they most of the team follows after you. Peter looks over at where Sam was kneeling, holding his injured foot.

"Are you okay, man?" He went to check on the injury but Sam gently moved his hand away. Sam let out a grunt as he looks at his foot.

"I'll be fine. Damn, that hurt like a bitch!" He cussed as he tried to stand up, making sure not to put weight on his bad foot, "She's actually made out of metal. She punches hard!" Peter frown as he looks to where you ran off too.

"...She's scared," Peter whispers, The look you gave when they cornered you made him feel awful. He doesn't know what happened but he wants to find out.

"She's definitely fight in 'fight or flight'," Sam grumbled as Peter stands up and swings away, leaving Sam there alone and injured, "Alright, man." 

~~

You panted as you run, where ever you could. You should have thought more about this when you left your world. You shook your head before tripping on a branch.

You look over to see a fallen tree a decent hiding place at best.

"She's here somewhere." You heard the man with the cape say your eyes widen as you roll over under the tree. 

"Strange, why do we need her so bad?" A different man says, you look over to see him holding a shield with a star on it. Your eyes widen as you recognize it from captain America, your prime always hated him, "What has she done?"

"It has messed with the order it's either she agrees with our terms or it has to be destroyed." You put your hand over your mouth to conceal your gasp.

"She is a child," Steve starts,

"it is a reflection that went out of line." Strange cuts him off, "Look, I don't like this any more than you do but it's what's right."

"She's no less than Peter's age!" Peter? Who's that? Maybe one of the Avenger's son, "This isn't right strange." 

"I know it is but it's-"

"Mr. Strange?" A new, younger voice speaks up meaning everyone turns to him. It was Spider-Man! Your prime loved Spider-Man so you knew a great deal about him, "What's going on?"

"Peter it's-" Steve starts but cuts himself off. Spider-Man was Peter? Alright, "We're just figuring something out." 'Peter' hummed as he took off his mask and... he was cute, really cute. 

"If it means anything," He started before pointing in a different direction, "I heard something over there, it might be the girl." You watch as all the Avengers follow the direction he pointed, except for him.

He stared right at you before walking over, You swore under your breathe as you tried to get out of the hiding place. It was good for hiding but not running. You jumped when you held a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, it's alright," You look over at Peter in fear as he looked at you, "I'm not gonna hurt you, it's alright." 

"What are you doing?" You whisper as you look around, "Is this a trap? why are you helping me?" 

"Because I don't know your story or even why I'm chasing you." He explains as he sits down next to you sitting in the uncomfortable little hole, "That's not fair to you." 

You didn't know how to react so you just stared at him in shock, no one ever listened to you before. Well, except for your prime you watch as he gives you reassuring smile as you fidget with your fingers.

"So what do you want?" You question as you look over at him giving him a look, making him chuckle. You weren't ashamed to admit Spider-mAn had a cute laugh.

"Your story." You look over at him, giving him suspiciously but all he did was give you a small smile back. You let out a sigh as you leaned your head against the tree behind you.

"My story huh? Well, most of my life I've been reflecting my prime." You looked up at the sky as Peter looked at you confused, "A prime is like you, a person but the thing is I'm a person." 

"But people don't believe that so when I escape with the help of my prime, they started hunting me down." Peter frown as he listens to your story, "I haven't even been here for that long but now I won't even get the chance." You whipped your hand against your eyes to get rid of the tears forming. 

"I don't even have a name." You whimpered as you lay your head between your knees, "I'm nothing, nothing at all." Peter shook his head as your shoulder's started to shake.

"No, your someone!" You look up in shock at his mini outburst, he looked angry genuinely angry about what happened, "Maybe if you come with me to talk with the avengers and explain everything, maybe they'll let you go." 

"Yeah, right." You muttered as you sat up straight and looked away from Peter, "The moment they see me they'll attack me. Won't even listen, just like everyone else." You rested your cheek against your knee as you hugged your knee.

"They won't, I won't let them," Peter reassured as he put a hand on your shoulder, "They'll listen to me and I listened to you right?" You look over at him with a shy smile.

"Yea.."

"Then we got this!" He smiled excitedly as he took both your hand and helped you stand up, "Everything will be fine." You give him a smile as he helped you out of the sticks you got yourself stuck in.

~~

"Where could she have gone?" 

"She's literally glowing in the sun, how can we not find her?"

"It couldn't have gone far."

"She seems to know the area." 

"I don't think this'll work." You mumble to Peter as you hid behind him, you held onto his shoulders tightly. Peter continued to walk forward toward his team. 

"Don't worry, I got this." He whispered back as you two entered the Avenger's eyesight, they all looked at the both of you, "Hey guys, as you can see I found her-"

"Peter get away from her!" 

"Don't let it get away." 

Before anyone could blink you were pushed away from Peter and the man's cap wrapped itself around you, making you unable to escape. Your eyes widen as you struggled against the fabric.

"H-Hey!" You look up at Peter with a look of betrayal, "You said you'd help me! You lied to me, I knew this was a trap!" Peter frowned at his friends as they all circle you.

"Okay, Chrome girl," Your eye twitched at the nickname but Tony didn't comment, "We'll give you a choice you back to where you came from or," his gauntlet lights starts to glow, making Peter panick.

"Mr. Stark Stop!" Before he could think about it he stood in front of you, shielding you from everyone. everything froze as you all stared at Peter in shock, "Mr. Stark...We can't hurt her."

"Peter..."

"She didn't do anything to deserve this." Peter looks around at his teammates, "If you had listened to her you would have known that. All she wants to do is live her life." He looks at Doctor Strange, "That doesn't mean she's a criminal." 

"Peter, She can't just be free..." Strange looked conflicted as he watches Peter protect you, "She can't just be let out in the world."

"S-she can!" protested Peter, "She can just uh,..." He looked around as he thought, "She can live with us at the tower!" Everything got quiet at his suggestion, "Think about it, we're the Avengers weird thing's happens with us all the time! A girl made out of metal shouldn't surprise anyone and then we can keep an eye on her too," He paused as he turned to look at you shyly,  "...at least if that's fine with you." 

You stare at him in shock as you felt warmth go to your cheeks. Living at the tower? That meant being confined to one place forever your own little prison. But living with Peter? That meant living with someone who actually listens and went out to protect you. You make eye contact with peter as you make up your mind.

"...I'm fine with that." You gave Peter a small smile as he beams at you before turning to the others.

"See she's okay with that!" He waved his arms around wildly, "Doesn't that sound like a good idea?" everything was once again quiet before Steve walks up to Peter and puts a hand on his shoulder.

"I think that just might work, son." You looked at him shocked as the group seems to nod along with him. You look down as the cap suddenly lets you go to go back to Strange.

"Fine but the moment something goes wrong, we'll have to figure something out." Strange nodded as he makes a portal and steps through. 

"He could have made us one too," Tony rolled his eyes as they turn to walk toward the jet, "welcome to the tower I guess, Chrome girl." You looked at him with a deep frown.

"I'm not answering to that." You deadpanned at him. You felt arms wrap around your waist as Peter smiled behind you.

"See, what I tell you?" 

"That everything will be okay." You grumbled as you crossed your arms. Peter smiled as he took your hand and lead you toward the jet.

"Exactly, now C'mon I'm gonna show you around the tower!"

You smiled as you followed Peter toward the jet where Sam sat nursing his hurt leg. He jumped up when he saw you and Peter walk in, holding hands.

"What? What the fuck!?" He pointed at you as you smile sheepishly at him with a wave. 

"She's living with us," Peter responded as he raises your intertwined hands to show Sam. You gave Sam a smirk as you two go to sit down. 

"What the fuck did I miss?"

~~

 You shuddered as you shed the metal clothes that were a complete copy of your primes. You let them fall to the ground with an loud noise as you changed into normal clothes, that you chose.

You smiled at you looked at yourself in the mirror. You weren't your prime you weren't a criminal you were just you and you couldn't have it any other way.

"C'mon, let me see you!" You smiled at Peter's voice. You got out of the bathroom as Peter's eyes lit up at you, "Oh my god, You look amazing!" He jumped up to look at your outfit some more, "It looks really great on you."

"You know, I'm really like it." You pulled at the fabric with a smile, "much more comfortable than the other ones." You and Peter let out a laugh.

"So, did you finally figure out your name?" He questioned as he stood next to you to look at your reflections. You give him a smile before staring at yourself in the mirror.

"(Y/n). My name is (Y/n)."

[neon-junkie]

you shouldn’t have kept me waiting

Summary: Sometimes, sex doesn't go as planned, especially when it's your first time.

Pairing: f!Reader x Flaco Hernández

Word Count: 1864

Rating: NSFW

Tags: First time, First kiss, Friends to lovers, Table sex, Making out.

Notes: Wanted to try a writing style a little different to my usual stuff, and I haven't written about Flaco for like 2 hours, and it's killing me bc hes my husband, so I wrote this lil oneshot <3

  You were bored, hunting yet again in Big Valley, dumping corpse after corpse by Cripp's butchering table, hearing endless of comments of "this'll do," and "beautiful!" But he soon told you to "calm down, we have enough to keep me busy for days! How's about you take some time to enjoy yourself? Go for a ride or something?"

 And, well, you did exactly what he suggested.

 You'd been itching to go and see him again, despite swearing you'd try and stay away for a while. Obsession is the right word for it, considering you used to trail up the mountain to see him once a week, but it had slowly become twice a week, then three times, then four. You were practically moving in at this point, but he didn't mind.

 Flaco adores your company, along with a long list of other things about you, and he'd begun listing a few things off whenever you've seen him. "Pretty coat, I hope it's keeping you warm," "your horse is looking healthy, they suit you," "you must be cold, chica, your cheeks are so rosy, but eh, it looks cute."

 Oh, yes, he's pinpoints each and every single thing about you, even the things you find unattractive like the bags under your eyes or the occasional cow-lick to your hair. Flaco hadn't told you directly how he feels, but it's hard not to notice from the way his eyes light up every time you've burst through his cabin door, or the way he soon began waiting in his doorway for you to return from your missions, shouting across the frozen lake to ask if you were injured. He doesn't care about the missions, but you he definitely does care about.

 Only today went differently.

You thought you were clouding up Flaco's personal space, using the excuse of 'work' to see him as often as you could, and although he'd never shown any disliking to your frequent visits, your mind had convinced you that you were a bit too much, excessive, in his personal space. Once a week is enough to work for somebody, right? You thought it was, until you finally entered his cabin for the first time in weeks to see his furrowed brows and a pout across his face.

 "Where have you been?" Flaco had questioned, his voice rough and rugged, monotone like it used to be, back when you first met him.

 You explained that you'd been busy doing other things, your trading company, the bounty hunting work, collecting odd items for a lady you met out West, but all your excuses were literally just that in the eyes of Flaco.

 "I didn't think I'd see you again," Flaco confessed as he rose from his seat. This wasn't the first time you'd stood against him, tilting your head far back to gaze up at the much larger man, but it felt off today, as if your neck actually hurt from looking up for once. "I was worried something had happened, something... bad, you know?"

 You attempted to calm his confusion, explaining that you were fine, just busy, but Flaco still wasn't buying it. Only he finally did the second you reached out to rest your hand on his arm, kneading at him gently, a small reassuring gesture that meant the world to Flaco. He's never really touched you before, the only time being when his hands linger in yours when he hands over payments, and the only time you'd ever touched him was when you wiped some food from his face, and his look of embarrassment is one you'll never forget.

 Flaco's facial expressions alone made it obvious that he was crumbling, and he pushed back at his sombrero, letting it fall around his neck as the cord kept it in place, and dipped his head down to your level.

 You knew what was coming, you were hoping for the same, and stood on tip toes to meet Flaco in the middle. Your hand continued to knead at his arm, eventually trailing up to his shoulder as the other one joined, and Flaco cupped your jawline so perfectly that he had to move his hands to your waist to ensure your knees wouldn't give way beneath you.

 Flaco didn't taste how you thought he would, of rich chewing tobacco or a chain of cigarettes, but of whiskey and the herbs he uses to season his meals. Mint was the strongest taste, and it was rich on his tongue as yours slid across it, Flaco letting out a whimper against your lips, his moustache brushing over the sensitive skin just below your nose.

  Desperate kisses had turned needier and needier, just like the hands roaming your body, eventually dipping down to tug at your thighs. You knew what he wanted, and you knew he'd catch you if you somehow fell, so you allowed him to lift you, wrapping your legs around his waist, barely able to cross your ankles over. The sound of an array of items hitting the floor caught you off guard, and you soon realized that Flaco had swept some of his belongings from his table, replacing them with your ass instead, still nipping at your lip as you relaxed against the wood.

 Everything about him felt so intoxicating, not just his musk or the way he was holding you, but the groan he let out as you broke the kiss to nip at his neck. Who knew a man so rugged could sound so poetic? and he watched with half-lidded eyes as you moved your hands down his chest, trailing over the thick fur of his coat, over each cold bullet strapped to his bandoliers, and settled at his gun belt.

 The belt hit the cabin floor with a thud, and Flaco moved his hands from your thighs to your waist, gently unpicking each button to your pants, though you can sense his eagerness as he fiddles with them. One of your boots is slipped off, followed by your pants and undergarments being pulled from under your ass, letting the cold air hit one leg, and leaving the other clothed.

 Flaco popped a thick finger into your mouth before pressing it against your entrance, returning his lips to yours as he slowly pushed himself in, chuckling at the moan you'd let out against his lips. His chuckle soon turned into a sigh once you got your own revenge, reaching beneath his coat to unfasten his pants, and free his thick member from his undergarments, pumping him slowly as you feel his precum run across the back of your fingers.

 A pair of dark eyes met yours, gazing at you for mere seconds, yet it felt like minutes. Lips were reunited, and both of you spent some time working at each other, prepping each other, finally able to feel and enjoy the other after too many months of tension and frustration.

 You'd guided Flaco to your entrance, looking up at him with lustful eyes as you pressed the tip of his cock to your hole. Flaco pulled his finger from you, "how can I deny you?" he questioned in a voice so deep it made you tremble, and he grinned at your body's response. But Flaco soon began melting into you as he pushed his cock in, taking it inch by inch, both of you sighing in unison once he was fully sheathed inside of you.

 You moaned his name and he moaned yours, cupping your jawline with his calloused hand. Flaco nuzzled you briefly, pressing his forehead to yours as his eyes fell shut, before placing a kiss on your forehead. He didn't say anything, and you could tell he was lost for words, but he soon began thrusting into you.

 The rolling of his hips was deep and smooth, slow and steady, both pleasurable and painful at the same time. There was no actual pain, Flaco could never hurt you, but it was agony having him go at this speed; you've needed him for so long, and now you finally have him, but of course he's going to make you wait just a little longer. There was a smug grin on his face as you began mewling in his arms, head buried into the curve of his neck, his cold bullets pressed against your cheek as you began to whimper.

 "What's a matter?" Flaco questioned in a playful tone. "This not enough for you, eh? You make me wait weeks to see you, and then demand everything at once?"

 He wasn't serious, you know that, and it was painfully obvious as he was visibly biting at his lip in an attempt to stop himself from grinning. What a tease. But Flaco was quick to give in, not just because you needed it, but because so did he.

  If you said you hadn't thought about this before, you'd be lying; you've imagined Flaco railing you just about everywhere in this cabin, but you always thought the table would be the dodgy spot. It's an old piece of furniture, somehow still standing in the harsh terrain, but remained standing as Flaco slammed into you on top of it. You were careful not to knock the candles over as you relaxed into the wood, your eyes flicking between watching Flaco's length disappear into you, and watching the expression of pure lust on his face.

 You were surprised he'd waited this long, seeing as there's been many opportunities to pull you onto his lap, but something must have burst in Flaco's mind when you disappeared for a few weeks, and you wouldn't be surprised if he made a promise to himself to come onto you the second you returned.

 The sounds Flaco made were intoxicating, grumbles and groans at all different levels of volume, but he fell silent as he came. Flaco had pulled you up off the table and wrapped his arms around you, holding himself deep inside and burying his head into the curve of your neck, arching his back over so he could hold you, and be held at the same time. "Mierda," he muttered to himself, his voice muffled by your coat. "Too much, too fast, augh!" he grumbled, and finally stood upright to look at you.

 "I'm sorry," he had said, and avoided eye contact with you as you tilted your head in confusion. "I... I came too fast," he grumbled, and slipped himself from you.

 You had to bite back on your laughter. Really? This grown man, a legend, is pouting like a child because he came within minutes during your first time together. "It's alright," you smiled at him. "We'll just have to build your stamina back up, hm?" you suggested.

 Flaco looked at you blankly before bursting into laughter, placing a kiss to your temple and then your cheek. "You tolerate me too much," he chuckled, and you could feel the warmth radiating from his heart at your kind response.

 "Now, come on," he said as he pulled you up from the table, letting you dress yourself as he tucked himself away. "Let's hear all about what you've been doing over these last few weeks..."

[d-hasselhoff]

That’s Not My Cass 1/?

Castiel x reader

Warnings: Power Hungry God Cass, some swears I think, mentions of heaven&hell + god and angels, by the way I literally hit the max number of text blocks so this’ll be a multiple part thing

Y/n stood next to Bobby and Dean, trying not to let Cass know she was scared of who he’d become. This new Cass, the power hungry god, terrified her. But she couldn’t tell him. Cass’ hand touched Sam’s forehead and Y/n knew what had happened. Castiel took down the wall.

As Cass mumbled about the power he would now hold, Y/n was able to sneak behind him. She closed her eyes for a moment, the Cass she used to know, used to love, flashed in her mind. It hurt her to realize she had to do this, she had to do it for Sam, but she knew it wasn’t really her Cass. so, she raised her arms, the angel blade striking down into Cass’ back. She squeezed her eyes shut, slowly opening them when the bright light that was supposed to emerge from his body never came.

A deep, rumbling laugh emerged from Cass’ chest. “You really think an angel blade will work on me anymore? I’m a god, Y/n a mere angel blade will do me no harm. You can’t kill a god.”

Her eyes widened and she stepped back as he turned to her, pulling the blade from his chest. “You foolish, foolish girl. I hope for your sake I never see you again.” The blade dropped as he flew away, the brief whoosh of his wings left behind.

She collapsed, her knees digging into the cement floor. Sam rushed over, picking her up off the ground, aiding her in standing up, allowing them to walk out of the building and to the vehicles. 

“I’m sorry Y/n/n. I didn’t think this would happen. It didn’t seem like Cass could get this way.” Sam gave her a sympathetic smile as they sat cleaning each other’s wounds.

“I don’t know who that was, but that was not my Cass.” She murmured, carefully pulling the thread tight on his chest, cinching the wound.

“I know. Turn your head for me? I can’t quite get to the gash in your hairline.” The gash covered the exact spot Cass used to kiss on her head before they left each other, easily helping her anxiety before cases.

As the four of them, Dean, Sam, Y/n, and Bobby stood in front of the water reserve they watched, perplexed, as Cass pushed himself into the water, a whirlpool taking him under. The only thing left of him was his beloved trench coat.

Y/n picked up the coat, folding it gently and carrying it out.

“He’s really gone, huh?” Bobby asked, more to himself than anyone else.

“I guess so. Rest in peace, if that’s even an option.” Dean replied, opening the door to his impala.

Lucifer had taken over Sam. He hadn’t slept in days, Lucifer constantly nagging at him, not letting him sleep even a wink. Y/n felt horrible for the man, especially when she was able to sleep soundly. Of course, she would never sleep the same, not without Cass next to her. But at least she was able to sleep some. Poor sam.

Now, as Dean and Y/n stood in the office of Dr. Kandinsky waiting to see Sam after his accident, the two were made aware of the efforts put in by the doctors to help Sam’s “issues”.

“Relatives of Sam Smith?” Dr. Kadinsky asked as the two of them stood impatiently, waiting on the whereabouts of their brother.

“Yeah. Where is he?” Dean asked, flailing his arms.

“You have to calm down,” she turned her attention to dean before facing the doctor again. “Sorry, he gets a bit temperamental.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Can we see him? He’s recovering from the accident, right?”

“So you’re aware of his car accident.” The doctor mentioned.

“Yeah, is he alright?”

“Sam was admitted. He was treated for a busted rib and minor wounds.” Dr. Kadinsky explained.

“Alright, we’ve seen worse. And?” Dean’s exasperation flooded the room.

“And… he’s locked on our psychiatric floor.”

Dean scoffed. “He’s had trouble before, but nothing major, why now?” Y/n asked.

“So you’re aware Sam’s experiencing a full blown psychotic episode?

“Psychotic?” Y/n raised her eyebrows.

“Yeah, it’s not like he’s freakin Norman Bates!” Dean shouted, causing Y/n to pull on his shoulder, calming him down slightly.

“I’m sure he isn’t. But, we need to determine whether the episode is brought on by insomnia or whether the insomnia is a symptom of his condition.” The doctor explained. “So we can figure out how to treat him.”

“The uh, the sleeping issue is new.” Y/n told him.

The doctor pulled in a large breath. “Well, we’ve pumped him full of sedatives as much as we safely can, but he won’t go under.” This caught their attention. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The doctor led them through the psychiatric ward, leading them to Sam’s room. “Hey, how are you feeling?” Y/n asked, knocking on the door lightly.

Sam seemed to pick himself up when he saw the two of them. “I think you should cancel my ufc fight.” He snickered, patting the spot next to him for his sister.

Dean and Y/n looked at each other, communicating without speaking. This was worse than they thought.

“We’re gonna get you help Sammy.” Dean smiled, patting his leg lightly.

Sam scoffed lightly.

“I don’t think that’s out there, Dean.”

“We don’t know that.” Y/n protested.

“As good as anyone.”

“Last faith healer we hooked up with had a reaper on a leash, remember?” Sam looked up at the two of them, eyes droopy. It was clear he hadn’t slept in days. “I’m just saying”

“What that you don’t want our help?” Dean asked.

“No, don’t waste your time on me.”

“If- If we don’t find help-“

“I’m gonna die. I know. Cass warned us about this, putting my soul back.”

“Screw cass!” Dean shouted.

“It’s really hard to keep the motivation to help you when you accept this so quickly Sammy.” Y/n smiled lightly at him, trying to make him understand.

“I know. I’m just exhausted. Death sounds good right about now.” Sam pleaded. “This is what happens when you throw a soul in Lucifers dog bowl.” Sam laughed pathetically. “There’s not just a cure out there.”

Dean stomped out of the room. Y/n shook her head lightly, lightly grabbing Sam’s head with both her hands and kissing his hair.

“Hey, we’re going to help you.” She gave him one last smile and followed Dean out the door.

Now, as Dean sat on the couch of Bobby’s old place, calling you every number he could think of to help him, Y/n stood opposite of him, researching anything that could help them.

Dean abruptly stood up, mumbling to the fridge to grab a beer. Bobby’s book whooshed off the table. “What the hell?” He turned his attention to his sister.

“What? I didn’t do that,” she motioned to Bobby’s book on the ground. “I assumed you threw it on the ground when you got frustrated.”

“No I didn’t- what is that?” He furrowed his brows as he picked up the card, flipping it around to “call 605-555-0102” written on the back.

So, Dean picked up the phone and called the number. “Hi, uh, my name’s Dean, a friend of Bobby Singers. I, uh, was looking for some info and a card with your number popped up. If you could call me back, thanks.”

“Well, let’s hope, huh?” Y/n asked, standing up from the table and wrapping her arms around her ‘brother’. He closed his eyes and let his head drop into her neck.

“Yeah.” He mumbled. They might not be blood but they were the closest thing to two had to family right now.

They sat at the small table, looking at whatever when Dean’s phone rang. “This is Dean.”

Y/n’s eyebrows raised. “Mackey. Calling you back. Real sorry to hear about Bobby.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“What you called about, I might have something for you.” Dean put the phone on speaker. “There’s this guy, goes by Emanuel. Kinda roams. First started hearing about him a couple months back. He healed the sick, cured the crazy. Naturally, I think something ain’t right. So, I went looking. Easiest way to get to him is through his wife, Daphne out in Colorado. So, I go. Told her I was going blind. Wasn’t a lie, my right eyes burnt out. She tells me, “go home. He’ll come.” So, I went. I set every trap, every test in the book.”

“That’s what we would have done.” Dean mentions.

“Shows up, passes every one. There ain’t nothing weird about this guy. Except… he’s the real deal.”

“What do you mean?”

“He touched me, my eye was fixed.” Mackey explained.

“I don’t believe in much that don’t suck your blood, but I wouldn’t call you on maybe.”

So, the two left for this so called “Emanuel”.

Dean knocked on the door as they approached, the door opening to a middle aged looking man.

“Hi, this is Daphne Allen’s house? We’re looking for Emanuel.” Y/n asked

“Well, you found him. Daphne’s resting if you don’t mind.” He led the two farther back on the porch.

“Yeah, Sure.”

“Um, so, we were hoping-“ Dean was cut off by Y/n lightly hitting his back. She motioned lightly toward the window where Dean caught a glimpse of supposedly Daphne tied up to a chair and gagged. The two made eye contact and he looked back at “Emanuel”, only to be greeted with a demon. The demon grabbed Dean, throwing him against the glass.

“I’d be careful, don’t you know your boss has out a hands off memo?”

“Please, what have you done to help him lately? Roman’s head on a plate? Whatever Emmanuel is, Crowley’s gonna want him. A lot more than he wants you lately. So-“ The demon was cut off by an angel blade stabbing into back. He had forgotten Y/n was with, giving her the opportunity to grab him before any real damage was done. He screamed as the electricity sparked through his body.

Dean pushed the body down the steps, landing at a man’s feet. He nudged Y/n, and she turned around, mouth dropping open. Cass was back? And in a sweater? The two made eye contact, but it didn’t feel right. “What was that?” The gruff voice she had grown to love sent shocks through her system. She thought she’d never hear it again.

“That’s not cass.” She whimpered lightly, head falling onto Dean’s shoulder.

“Did that creature hurt you?” He asked his wife as he untied her.

“I’m okay.” She murmured, sucking in a deep breath as she was freed. “But Emanuel, they were looking for you.”

“It’s okay.” He comforted as he held her. She caressed his face and Y/n bit her cheek. Emanuel seemed to notice the confusion and lead his wife over to the two, introducing them.

“I’m Emanuel.” He held his hand out to the both of them.

Dean hesitated momentarily. “Dean. I’m Dean. And this is my sister, Y/n.”

“Thank you for protecting my wife.” Y/n blinked.

“Your wife. Right.” Dean nodded, casting his glance to a frozen Y/n at his side.

“I saw his face.” Emanuel turned to his wife. “His real face.” He turned back to the two.

“He was a demon.” Dean explained.

Emanuel glanced at the ground. “A demon walked the earth.” He seemed astonished.

“Demons. Whackloads of them. You don’t know about…” Dean stopped. He must have been sheltered for some reason.

“You saw the demon’s true face.” She turned toward dean and Y/n again. “Emanuel has very special gifts.”

“So we’ve heard.” Y/n spoke. “You can heal people.” Her stare seemed to bore into Emanuel’s.

“I seem to be able to help to a certain degree.” She knew it wasn’t really Cass, but god did it feel like it. “What’s your issue?”

“Our brother.” Dean explained.

The three of them sat in the impala, the tension seemed unbearable. “So, Daphne. Is that uh, is that your wife?” Dean asked, looking over to Emanuel who sat rigid in the front seat.

He nodded. “She found me, and took care of me.”

“Meaning?”

“It’s a strange story, you may not like it.” Emanuel mentioned.

“Believe me, I will.”

“Well, a few months ago she was hiking by the river, when I wandered into her path. Confused, drenched, and unclothed. I had no memory. She said god wanted her to find me.” Dean and y/n made brief eye contact. Something was up.

“Who named You Emanuel?” Dean asked.

“Bouncybabynames.com.”

The two of them nodded confused. “Well, its working for ya.”

“It must be weird not knowing who you are.” Y/n mentioned.

“Well, its my life. And it’s a good life.”

“Yeah, well what if you were some kind of, I don’t know, bad guy?” Dean brought up.

“Oh, I, don’t feel like a bad person.” Y/n nodded, leaning back against the seat.

This was going to be a long car ride.

“So, your brother…”

“Sam.”

“Sam. What’s his diagnosis?” Emanuel asked.

“Well, it’s not exactly medical.” Dean explained.

“That should be fine. I can cure illness of the spiritual.”

“Spiritual.” Dean scoffed lightly. “Well, someone did this to him.”

“You’re angry.” Emanuel observed.

“Well yeah, dude broke my brother’s head.”

“He betrayed you, this, dude. He was your friend?” Emanuel asked.

“Yeah well he’s gone.” Dean sighed.

“Did you kill him? I sense that you kill a lot of people.”

“No, I uh, I don’t know that he’s actually gone. I just know that this… whole thing couldn’t be messier. I used to be able to just shake this stuff off. You know, whatever it was. It might take me some time, but I always could.” Dean sighed. “What Cass did I just can’t. I don’t know why.”

“Well it doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does!”

“No it doesn’t. You’re not a machine, Dean.” Dean shook his head lightly. “You’re friend’s name was Cass? That’s an odd name.” Y/n scoffed lightly from behind the driver’s side.

The impala pulled into a convenience store and Dean jumped out. “Oh, hey, just uh, sit tight, alright? And you stay with him?” Emanuel and Y/n nodded and the two walked into the store.

Dean felt a presence behind him. He turned around, about to attack, when the demon threw him into the beer fridge. He stood up, shoving the knife deep into the demon’s abdomen, sending the electricity spiraling. He pulled it out and turned around to two more.

He swung with the knife, missing and being hurtled to the ground, his knife blown out of his grasp.

He sighed, pushing himself up to fight when suddenly the one was stabbed, and the other began seizing, releasing the demon.

“Emanuel, you son of a bitch.” He looked up and was met with Meg.

“Emanuel? Yeah, not so much.” Meg smirked, pulling him up.

“Dean, Dean, Dean. You got some ‘splaining to do. Imagine my surprise when I track this Emanuel down, cozied up with you two? And he just so happens to be the spitting image of poor dead Castiel? So Dean, what’s poor dead Castiel doing in that junker out there with your sister?”

“Christmas caroling.” Dean snarked.

“Fun. But how’s he alive? Last I heard he tried to play god and went poof.” Meg drawled.

“I don’t know. And neither does he so I’d like to keep it that way. You’ve gotta stay quiet about it.”

“Oh I do?”

“He doesn’t know he’s cass.”

“Oh I know. I’ve been watching you for hours. So here’s the deal. You might remember Crowley and me were frosty back in the day? Well times haven’t changed.”

“Good.”

“That hurts my feelings. I’ve been so good to you Dean.”

“No, you’ve been good to you, sweetheart.”

“Look. Right now rumors of this wandering healer are strictly low-level. But body count’s getting high enough to change that. Folks start poking they sniff angel dust.” Meg explained as Dean shoved various snacks in his jacket.

“Yeah, they start falling all over each other trying to tell Crowley.”

“Now picture Crowley with his hands all over poor little amnesia Cass. Don’t get my wrong I’m gonna burn that smarmy dick. My time’s coming. But right now my army-of-one situation is not cutting it. It’s cold out here, there’s a price on my ass and I need friends.”

“Yeah, I get that. But I ain’t it.” Dean shook his head, starting to walk past the demon.

“That’s where you’re wrong Dean. ‘Cause I’m here to help you, and that makes us friends.”

“Help, huh? You mean see if you can turn harmless little Cass out there into an angel sized weapon?” Dean snarked.

“Like you’re taking him caroling. And by the way do you really want to keep going without any backup? Hey, I don’t trust you either. But I could really use Emanuel. And he trusts you, so for now it’s in everybody’s best interests to hold hands and cross the street together, okay?”

“We go straight to Sam. No detours.” Dean sighed.

“I love it.” Meg smirked.

“And one more thing. My knife.” Meg held the smirk, resisting lightly as Dean pulled the angel blade from her grip.

“You sure we won’t be safer traveling with a full throttle angel? I could jog his memory.” Meg offered.

Dean stared at her.

“Kidding! We wouldn’t want to upset the poor guy.”

Dean and Meg approached Y/n and Cass- Emanuel, standing outside the impala.

“Her face she’s-“ Emanuel started.

“Meg?” Y/n stared in shock lightly.

“Y/n, it’s a pleasure.”

“You scheming bitch. I can’t help but feel a weird attraction to you.”

“It’s a mutual feeling Honey.” Meg laughed. Dean rolled his eyes.

“We come in different flavors. I’m here to help.” Meg informed Cass.

“I think we’re going to be great friends.” She smirked.

“Alright, can we just go?” Dean threw his hands in the air and Meg and Y/n laughed.

“Good to see you again Meg.”

“You too Y/n.”

The drive to the hospital was, well, uncomfortable. Dean still didn’t quite trust Meg, and Y/n while she was around Meg, but Emanuel was fully shaking. It was terrible.

“This silence is very uncomfortable is there something I should know?” Emanuel suddenly asked. So many things ran through everyone’s minds, but meg settled with,

“I don’t know. Dean?”

“No. Meg has that effect. Awkward, you know?”

“That must be difficult for you.” Emanuel met Meg’s eyes.

“Dean’s making a joke, Emanuel.”

Emanuel chuckled lightly. “Oh.”

Y/n stifled a laugh, her head falling onto Meg’s.

Baby’s engine stopped and the crew rolled out, taking in the fight before them. Demons crawled around the entrance to the hospital dressed as nurses and doctors.

“How many of those knives do you have?” Emanuel asked.

“Just the one.” Dean sighed.

“Forgive me, but how else are we going to get through there?”

“Yeah Dean, got any other ideas?” Meg smirked.

“Excuse us.” Dean flashed Cass a polite smile and led Meg and Y/n away from the angel.

“Oh for the love of God. Sam’s in there! I know you two are enjoying the trip with your old pal, you especially Y/n.” Meg snapped.

“You think it’s really what cut and dry? Really? You know what he did. And you want to tell him and just hope that he takes it in stride? He could snap. He could… disappear. Who knows?” Dean’s anger cooled as Y/n tugged lightly on his shoulder.

Castiel���s voice broke the tension. “I take it we know each other.”

Meg smirked. “Just a dollop.”

“You can tell me. I’ll be fine.” Cass reassured.

“How do you know?” Dean questioned.

“You just met yourself. We’ve known you for years.” Y/n explained.

“You’re an angel.” Meg cut in.

Dean and y/n stopped, staring at Meg.

“I-I’m sorry? is that a flirtation?” Cass was utterly confused.

“No. It’s a species. A very powerful one.”

“She’s not lying. Okay? That’s why you heal people. You don’t eat.” Dean explained.

“I’m sure there’s more, we just don’t know.” Y/n gave Cass a reassuring smile.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” Castiel asked, sounding almost offended. “Being an angel- it sounds pleasant.”

“It’s not. Trust me. It’s bloody.” Dean explained.

“It’s corrupt. It’s not pleasant.” Y/n finished.

“They would know. You all used to fight together. Bestest friends actually. And a little more with Y/n here.” Meg smirked.

“More? Like, love, more? Am I Cass?” Cass cocked his head slightly.

“Yeah. We had been together for years. Around three years I believe.” Y/n gave him an awkward smile and leaned back into Dean.

“I had no idea. I don’t remember you. I’m sorry.” Y/n’s breath hitched. She knew this was coming, but it still hurt more than she could imagine. Dean kissed the top of her head.

“Look. You got the juice. You can smite every demon in that lot.” Meg explained.

Cass turned to face the lot. “But I don’t remember how.”

“It’s in there.” Y/n said, reaching up and patting his chest.

“I’m sure it’s just like riding a bike.” Dean commented.

Cass turned toward Dean. “I don’t know how to do that, either.”

Dean turned his head and blinked dramatically and Y/n stifled a laugh. He turned to face Cass again and gave him a look. “Alright I’ll try.” He said before venturing down the hill.

“This ain’t gonna go well.” Dean sighed.

“I don’t know. I believe in the little tree topper.” Meg smiled.

Cass walked up to the guards, nervous as all hell. “Hey I know you. You’re dead!” The demon told him.

“Yes I’ve heard.” Cass replied, placing both his hands on the demon’s chest before reaching one up and smiting him. The memories came rushing back.

He stomped up to the two others and did the same, more flashes of the prior years. He remembered the god, the deals with Crowley, sam, his relationship with Y/n, everything.

“That’s my boy.” Meg smirked.

“Cool it sister. I’m still a little pissed at you for making out with him.” Y/n smiled.

“Oh please you weren’t even together.”

“Still.” She laughed. Dean rolled his eyes.

The last remaining demon tried to run, but Cass was quicker.

The three approached Cass, who seemed to have relived every moment of his past. He looked, ruffled, to say the least.

“That was beautiful, Clarence.” Meg smirked.

“Cass?” Dean asked.

“I remember you. I remember everything.” Cass seemed a little more sullen than he usually was. His attention turned toward Y/n and she could barely look him in the eye.

“I’m so sorry.” Castiel met her gaze. “I never intended to hurt you.”

Something about the odd tone Cass had taken with his ‘sister’ rubbed Dean the wrong way. He had seen too much of her pain caused by him just to be swept off her feet with one feeble apology. “Of course you didn’t! No one does! But a simple “I’m sorry” isn’t going to cut it! You weren’t around to feel the pain radiating off of her! She was in shambles because of you! She deserves so much more than that!” Castiel became dead silent. Along with the rest of the group.

“Dean- it’s okay. I’m alright. Just happy to have him back.” Y/n tugged on his shoulder, pulling him down into her embrace. “It’s alright.”

He closed his eyes, breathing in the peach shampoo, calming the rage swimming in his body. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to flip out.”

“It’s okay, Dean. You were just protecting me. Thank you.” She smiled, kissing the top of his head.

“What I did. What I became. Why didn’t you tell me?” Cass speaking again pulled Dean from his state of comfort.

“Because Sam’s dying in there!”

“Because of me. Everything. All these people. I shouldn’t be here.” Cass finished, marching away from the three of them.

“Cass. Cass!” Y/n shouted after him. “You two stay here.” She turned to Dean and Meg before following the angel. “Cass!”

Y/n followed him up the hill, lecturing him as they went. “If you remember, then you know you did the best you could at the time.”

“Don’t defend me. I hurt you. Do you have any idea the death toll in heaven? On earth?” Nothing seemed to slow him down. “We didn’t part lovers, or even friends, Y/n.”

“So what?” She argued, throwing her arms up.

“I deserved to die.” Cass held her gaze.

Y/n bit the inside of her cheek. She knew he was right. He did deserve to die. But not him. Just the corrupt part. Maybe this did it. Maybe he’d be okay now.

“Now, I can’t possibly fix it… So why did I even walk out of that river?”

“Maybe to fix it.” She argued. An idea popped into her head. It may be dumb, it may not even be helpful, but it’d at least maybe bring back a part of the Cass she knew.

[fandomtrxsh19]

So, when I read ACOSF, I made kind of play by play notes as a listened to it( I read the audiobook) so.........here’s the chaos

HEAVY SPOILERS FOR ACOSF!!

CASSIAN SAID FUCK

WHOA there’s a LOT of swearing in this

“It’s SEVEN in the morning gods damn it” -nesta archeron

OVERSIZED SHIRTS FOR THE WIN

Feyre and Rhys have 5 houses? Not surprised...

full, inviting breasts......BIG BOOBS OMG CASSIAN YOU HORNY SON OF A BITCH

7 siphons to keep his magic under control? Dayum

So, she rode this unnamed male like a fucking roller coaster?

Depression sex? Depression sex

“Her father was ashes in the wind” DAMN THATS EDGY

“A moment of release among the darkness inside her” NESTA BBY THIS ISNT HEATHY

“She avoided both of them” not surprised

OOOOH RHYS HATES HER TEA IS BEING SPILT

So, depression sex and depression alcohol? Yup

*checks chapter count* 80 CHAPTERS??!?! Oh shit this is gonna be a triiiip

OOOOOOOOO RHYS AND NESTA BEEF

Feyre trying to apologize to nesta........she’s trying

“You’re done, Nesta” The fuuuuuck.....

So, nesta’s moving and training with cassian...........Feyre, this isn’t a good idea omg

Feyre holy shit what the fuck are you doing, you TOTAL HELICOPTER SISTER?

“I never want to speak to you again!” damn

ELAIN TRAUMA!!! Yay???

MOR FOCUSED CHAPTER!!!?

she has brown eyes? Ok

FUCK SHES WEARING A BLUE DRESS FUCK

nesta knows about mor NESTA KNOWS ABOUT MOR!!!

“I am worthless and I am nothing. I hate what I am.” DAYUM I’ve been in that exact mindset numerous times. I can relate, Nesta

Briallen? Who the fuck is that?

Scars being trapped in magic? Good fuck that’s dark

“Ooh a dark skin character? Lit

OH SHIT SHE CANT FLY HER WINGS ARE CLIPPED

Is her name Emery?

“I am the monster your fear” BBY OMG GET THERAPY

Gwyn? Seems a bit aloof

“Two gentle conversations” GOOD JOB

Fairy lights omg lol

Nesta reading smutty books.....I’m imagining this omg

THE HOUSE IS ALIVE? Sweet

OMG ELAIN SHIT!!!! BBY

“All she wanted to do was touch him” OOOOOHHHHH NESSIAN

“All I need is a hot meal and a good book.” Mood

Nesta’s worried about Mor??? REEEEEEE

“Nesta needed Feyre more than she realized.“ OOOOOOO

OOOOOOOOO FAE BARGANS

They’re bound by magic on the body?? Ooh

IT’S TRAINING TIME BITCHES

“I don’t hate you too,Cassian” OMGGGGGG REEEEE

Nesta SMILED

THEY MENTIONED VALKYRIES!!!!!

“You might be my only friend.” HMMMMMMM

*hears how cassian was born * OMG HOLY SHIT CASSIAN

*hears cassians backstory* DAMN THESE CHARACTERS NEED THERAPY

OOP SLIGHT DEPRESSION SEX

OOP CLOTHING REMOVAL

“I’ve loved you since the first moment I held you in my arms.” HMMMMMMMM

I’m loving this Nessian sparring training.

ELAIN! SHES IN THE STORY KIND OF

Elain has small boobs........same

“I thought I would drop by to see how you were doing.” AWWWWWWWWW

Yayy.....awkward sister talks........

“She was the monster.” Nesta.............I can relate.

Nesta’s angry at Elain.............

Elain’s trying to reach out and Nesta’s denying it.

MY HEART

AGAIN...THE👏RA👏PY👏

“No more seeing her sisters without her permisson.” That’s smart.

Soooooooooo......Rhys is now a German Shepard.........?

OMG CASSIAN KILLED EVERYONE THAT HELPED KILL HIS MOM........good for him

“Use that training and make me.” OOOOOOOMGGGGGG

Rhys is overprotective of Feyre and shields her......daaaaaaaaaaaaamn

“What exactly happened in the cauldron?” FEYRE BAD IDEA BAD IDEA BAD IDEA

Again, Nesta, ✨THERAPY✨

Put a stop to what, D-does the IC know of the ✨depression smut?✨

“There was touching, but with her permission” WE 👏STAN 👏A KING👏

THAT ASKS👏FOR👏CON👏SENT👏

“Who do you think I am?” “A drunk fool who’s wasting my time?” OOOOOOOHHHHH SHOOTS FIRED!!!

Emery and Nesta to Emery’s cousin: GO HOME YOUR DRUNK ASSHOLE

*hears Nesta’s grand✨mama✨* me: grandmama, it’s me....ANASTASIA

Bruh...NESTA BIT CASS’S EAR

ugh the tool

“Baby making” hehe lol

“Nesta like gwyn”...............could she also be biiiiiiiii??????????!!!!!! YAY FIRST FRIEND IM PROUD OF YOUUUUU

NESTA SMILES AGAIN YAY!!

Alright, Meryl is BITCH

GWYN’S A QUARTER NYMPH?? Cool

“She’s failed everything.” BBY

HER POWERS? HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT SILVER FLAMES

ICY FIRE??? FUUUUUUUUUCK

Nesta must’ve been petrified being surrounded by fire

It’s a dream? THE FUCK

WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT SHE WAS DREAMING????

Cassian saw HER TRAUMA?????? FUUUUUUCK

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HER POWER IS DEAAAAATHH FUUUUUUCK

THE BABY HAS WIIIIINGS!!!!!!

Why is Rhys angry about the wing thing?

Ohhhhhhhhhh shiiiiiiiiiit the tool

*hearing the possibilities of half Illyrian baby* OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHH FUUUUUCK OMG

“I loved it when you fucked my mouth cassian?” GAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH NEEESTAAAAA THIS ISNT HEALTHY

“What could go wrong?” DONT JINX IT

fairy monsters? OHOHOHOOOO

NONONONOOOOOO NOT AN ASH ARROW

BLACK EYES???? Fuck fuck are they in the cauldron?

OMG THE KELPIE IS DOING SHIT TO NESTA!!! Are they on the cauldron?

the MAAAAAAASK

ohOOOOOOOMGOMGOMGOMG SHE SUMMONED THE FUCKING DEAD REEEEEEEEEEE

Omg NESTAS POWERS ARE SO FUCKING COOL

She LITERALLY HAS AN UNDEAD ARMYYYYY

death HERself........badass

“Because you and cassian has been giving each other sultry looks all morning” SHE KNOWS

“For the first time in her life, she finally felt good in her own skin.” GROWTH

Omg Nesta created a swooooord!!!!! Cool

ITS INFUSED WITH MAGIC??? HELL YEAH

“I can’t lie to her!” SIIIIIIIMP

“I’d be careful when fucking her.” Oh amren

FUUUUUUCK FUCK BOOOOOOOOO TAMLIN

“You will not touch us.” YES TELL HIM

“I can’t believe Feyre ever loved tamlin.” ME TOO

“Elain saw everything Nesta did.” Daaaaaaaaamn

OOOOOOOO NESTAS PIIIIIIIISSED

OOOOOOOOOOO SECRETS FEYRE’S PIIIIIIISED

Nesta messed up and I think she realizes that

Rhys is pissed now and wants to kill Nesta....SHIIIIIIIT

Nesta: heads for a tavern me: NONONONONO GODS DAMN IT YOU’VE COME SO FAR

“I will fight for him. For us. Until I can’t anymore.” FEYRE IS GONNA BE A GREAT MOM

“Wishing to disappear into nothing.” I’ve been there.

“Cassian knew Nesta hated herself, but didn’t know how sometimes she wanted to unexist.” I RELATE TO THAT SHIT

“She had been born wrong.” AWWWWW BBY SHIIIIIT

“Was she worth being counted?” I CAN RELATE

*hearing Nesta blaming herself for her fathers death and for the horrible things she’s done, saying she can’t fix it* SHIT IM CRYING (I’m not joking)

“ I deserve nothing.” I CAN RELATE BITCH IM ACTUALLY CRYING

*hears Cassian calmly reassuring and comforting her* AWWWWW I NEED THIS QUOTE

CASSIAN CARES SO MUCH FOR HER I LOVE THIS

(I really needed that cassian talk. I literally wrote most of the quote down just in case. Thank you SJM)

EMERY CAN SENSE THE SEX HOLY SHIT

“After he’d fucked her with her fingers...” O NONONONOOO

*skips to chapter 52*

Lanthis??? Who the fuck is that?

“Gwyn and Emery are my friends” SHES GROWN SO MUCH!!!

26 dimensions? OH THIS IS SOME DOCTOR STRANGE SHIT

IT CANT BE KILLED

cassian and Nesta really went *yeet* .......... I’m sorry

THE SWORDS NAME IS ADORAXIA!!!!!!!!!!!sounds like a dnd character IDEAS

OHOHOHOOOOO BLACK THRONE AND A CROWN DEATH QUEEN NESTA WITH HER HAIR DOOOOOOWN

Rhys vs Cassian standoff *western duel music starts*

NESTA APOLOGIZED FOR EARLIER IM SO PROUD

Did Elain have a vision? DID SHE???

“I want you to seduce him.” NESTA THE HIDDEN BARD ROLL FOR PERSUASION

Mor teaching Nesta the waltz? NESTA AND MOR CAN NOT HATE EACH OTHER

Are they back at their childhood home? Because oooooooooooof ✨ childhood trauma✨

MOR AND NESTA HAVING A CONVERSATION YAY!!!!! (This’ll make rping them so maybe easier)

“We’re in a book!” Holy shit they know. HIDE THE FANFICTION

The relationship between Nesta, Emery, and Gwyn is so wholesome

“Oh FUCK you” .... NESTA

“I was just checking on dessert” MOOD

MOR AND NESTA ARE HAVING A FRIENDLY CONVERSATION

I sense tension between amren and Nesta

ERIS WANTS NESTA????

“I’m not with you.” Lier

A SNOWBALL FIGHT WITH THE BATBOIS??? Holy shit they do have one(1) brain cell

A sleepover with Emery, Nesta, and Gwyn? SIGN ME UP

“Do it for the miniature Pegasus!” INSIDE JOKES

OOOOHHH i see the gwynriel ship

Wait....HER POWERS MADE THE HOUSE BE ALIVE??? Sweet

Alright 2 months til FEYSAND baby

The mating bond between cassian and Nesta?????.............

“Say it, SAY IT” GODS DAMN IT NESTA SAY THE FUCKING THING

So, Nesta’s afraid she’s gonna loose her humanity?

EMERIE NESTA AND GWYN ARE IN THE BLOODRITE? Fuuuuuuuuuck

OH NO EMERIE!!!!!!

“High Fae bitch” PUT THAT ON A SHIRT

OMG OMG OMG HELL YES VALKRIES

oh Cassian you restless bastard you

*hears Emerie’s backstory and their heart to heart* AWWWWWW I LOVE THEM

“The morrigan.” The fuck Eris?

“She’d hit the archway of stone” OOOOOOOOOOF

“For being my friends when I didn’t deserve it.” AWWWWWWWWWW

What about Feyre’s pregnancy???? Hewwo?

“Lord of bastards” heh true that’s cassian alright

Wait, OTHER set of wings

CASSIAN!!!!!!!!!!

“Now, I’m going to slit your little throat.” FUUUUUUUUCK NONONONOOOOO THIS ISNT CASS FUUUUCK

What’s the trove?

NONONONONOOOO WHYD HE GET STABBED SHIT HE GOT STABBED

Nesta’s pissed.....MAGIC TIME

wait wait wait wait wait HES NOT STABBED HELL YEAH!!!!

“You are my mate, Cassian.” ITS ABOUT FUCKING TIME

Nessian: kissing when the world is in ruin

“She started bleeding hours ago. “ BABY TIME???

*hears the blood and feyre’s appearance*!FUUUUUUUUUCK

So, no C section? OOOOOOH SHIT THEYRE DOING IT

IM SCARED IM SCARED IM SCARED

“Silent babe?” Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit

Nesta Nesta Nesta What the fuck are you doing???????? FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

SHE HAS ALL 3! ONONONOOOOOFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK

OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOOOOOOSHE PLUCKED IT FUCK

SHE STOPPED TIME?????????

WHOS the female voice?

“ I love you, Feyre” SHE DID IT IM SO PROUD!!!!!

What is she doing what is she doing what is she doiiiiingggg?

GIVE WHAT BACK?????

WHAAAAAT? A BARGAIN WITH THE FUCKING CAULDRON???

feyres alive? FEYRE’S ALIVE!!!!!!!

NESTA THE MVP!!!!

*the sister hug* AWWWWWWWWWWW

AWWWWWW I LOVE THE NAME NYX!!!!

How much did the Cauldron take from Nesta, tho?

FEYSAND IS BEST PARENTS

Alright, I want to see LOADS OF WHOLESOME FANFICS AND FANART ABOUT DOMESTIC IC AND ELAIN AND NESTA GOT IT?

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Sweet Pea//don't know if you love me or you want me dead

Request: I dunno if this'll go through or not but can i request a Sweet Pea/reader based on this text post, I can't find the original version lol 

hey! sweet pea imagine based off this ^. originally posted by @riverdalecentral​, so thank you! its enemies to lovers!! which is a trope that i adore! (side note, if you ever see anything to do with enemies to lovers you can 100% just send it to me with literally no explanation and i absolutely will not mind). title is from ‘teeth’ by 5sos! i had so much fun writing this! i hope you all enjoy it! i also hope you’re all having a lovely day/night!

No matter where you are in the world, you never want to be in a forest at night. But if you live in Riverdale, thats just a given. Nobody in their right minds goes into Fox Forest at midnight, however, spending five minutes with Sweet Pea can make anyone go insane. And so here you are, trekking through the woods like you’re in some sort of shitty horror film. 

“I can’t believe Jones has got us running around town like we’re in fucking Scooby Doo.” Sweet Pea huffs as the two of you walk through the trees. You let go of the branch you’re holding, and it narrowly avoids hitting Sweet Pea. You can feel the glare you’re getting and a small smirk twitches at your lips. 

You and Sweet Pea have a complicated relationship to say the least. You’ve both been part of the serpents for the same amount of time. (You were actually initiated 5 minutes before him but he doesn’t like to admit that). You have grown up in the same trailer park, five trailers from each other and you share the same friends. But there’s just something about him that makes you want to stick pins in your eyes. And there’s something about you, that makes him want to repeatedly stub his toe every single minute of his life, rather than spend five minutes with you. So yeah, its complicated. 

There’s been so much speculation around why you two hate each other. Fangs says its because you’re both too stubborn to actually have a proper conversation (whatever Fogarty). Toni says its because you secretly like each other (gross), and there was once a theory that it was because you had secretly dated and then broke up (again, you would rather stick pins in your eyes). 

You just hated each other. That was it. 

Although, despite the fact that spending five minutes in the same room with him makes you nauseous, he is kind of attractive. If you’re into the whole ‘bad boy, gang member, secretly soft at heart’ thing. Not that you’d ever admit that to anyone. 

“You’re Shaggy!” “You’re Scooby.” You both say at the same time making your expression mirror his. You both glare at each other before reluctantly turning away and continuing to walk.

“If you’re implying that I’m lesser because I’m the dog...1. You’re an idiot. Everybody loves dogs and Scooby Doo is evidence of that. And 2. Scooby Doo is the main character. The whole franchise is named after him, making him the lead. He even has a snack named after him. Its Scooby’s world and we’re just living in it.” 

“What. The. Fuck.” He stops and you roll your eyes, turning around to look at him. 

“You know I’m right...Shaggy.” You shine your torch in his eyes and he squints before flipping you off.

“How am I Shaggy?” 

“You give of major stoner vibes, you’re always eating and I never see you wear anything other than a dark t-shirt, black jeans and your serpent jacket.” You look him up and down and he huffs in response, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“They all wear the same outfits...they’re cartoons.” 

“True.” You nod. “But the other two are right. Plus, you’d be nothing without me.”

“I’d be a lot happier without you.” He replies and you send him a sarcastic smile back. He returns it and the two of you continue through the woods, your torches casting a variation of shadows against the tall trees. Its less like Scooby Doo and more like Blair Witch. And despite your company being Sweet Pea, you’d rather him than nobody.

You suddenly get the feeling your being watched, and the intensity of it makes you stop in your tracks, Sweet Pea soon catches up to you, stopping beside you and also looking around. 

“What is it? Did you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror?” He teases and even though you’re absolutely terrified, you still find it in yourself to punch him in the arm. 

“We’re in the middle of a forest. Where would I find a mirror?” 

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I’ve found some weird things in the woods. I once found a pile of bones, a belt and a half eaten apple.” 

“I-What?” You look up at him and he shrugs casually. 

“To this day I have no idea why they were there. Although, the belt does look pretty good on.” 

“Hm-Wait what?” You glance at his belt, the silver reflecting off the rays of your torch and he quickly looks away. 

“Nothing.” 

“What exactly are we looking for?” You ask, changing the subject. 

“I dunno. Jughead just said ‘anything strange’.” 

“In Riverdale? Yeah, that’ll be easy.” You huff before quickly pointing your torch to the side of you. Sweet Pea joins, the two of you silently listening and watching (and praying) that its just an owl. After a minute you both continue walking, this time in silence and you’re sure you’ve huddle a little closer to each other, but neither of you seem to mind. 

Twigs snap underneath your shoes and a gust of wind makes the trees rustle around you. It makes you shiver, and you swear Sweet Pea pauses for just a second to look around. The whole atmosphere makes you feel suddenly claustrophobic, despite being in the great outdoors, and right now you’re unsure who you hate more, Sweet Pea...or Jughead.

“What did he mean by strange?” You whisper and look around again. 

“I don’t know. Anything that could explain the weird going ons at his preppy new school.” 

“Why would that have anything to do with the woods. They’re in the opposite direction of each other.” 

“Ask Jones.” He holds his hands up defensively making you huff loudly. Your barely make it two steps before freezing again, Sweet Pea grunts as he walks into you but you don’t acknowledge him, too busy trying to decipher whether the noise you heard was a bird or a murderer. 

“Did you hear that?” 

“What!?” He looks around quickly and somehow, the two of you end up closer together than you were before. “Y/n, I swear to god, if you’re fucking with me, I will actually kill you.” 

“Surprisingly, you don’t sound that threatening when I can feel you literally shaking beside me.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Why did Jones even pair us together. You’re about as much use as a wet sock.” You mutter angrily, but you cut yourself off when you see a shadow move out of the corner of your eye. Before you can stop yourself you’re reaching out for Sweet Pea, grabbing his arm and squeezing. “Sweet Pea?” 

“Yep?” His doesn’t even hide the fear in his voice, and if you were in any other situation, you would have definitely made fun of him. 

“Did you see that?” 

“...yep.” He nods. “Do you think we should investigate?” 

“Do you think we should investigate?” You mock. “Its like you want to get murdered.” 

“A lot of people wouldn’t be opposed to that.” 

“Getting murdered, or you specifically getting murdered.” 

“Either, or.” He shrugs. 

“I think at least a few people would miss you.” You reply and a smirk appears on his face. 

“Am I dead? Have I already been murdered? Are you actually being nice to me?” 

“We can find out if people would miss you if you want.” You smile sarcastically at him and he shoves you lightly. For a second, the two of you forget where you are and what you’re supposed to be doing. It feels light, even if you are being rude to each other, and you swear, for a split second, you feel yourself enjoying each others company. But of course, he ruins it. 

“No thanks. I’m happy knowing that you’d miss me.” 

“I never said tha-” He only looks away for a few seconds. He saw something move and he thought he’d check it out. But in the time that he turns around, that he pulls his eyes away from watching your lips as they say whatever sarcastic comment you’d come up with, you vanish. Your sentence being cut off. 

He swears he’s never moved faster. Instantly he turns back around, shining the torch in every direction he can. It suddenly feels darker and the only thing he can hear is his heart beating in his throat. “Y/n?” It starts off as a whisper, unsure of what to do. But when you don’t answer, he manages to find his voice. “Where did you go? Y/n? I would very much like to hear your annoying voice.” His eyes close, despite every fibre of his body screaming at him not too. He’s seen horror films, he knows he shouldn’t close his eyes, but he needs to wish and prayer and do anything he can to find you. 

“...sweet pea?” Your voice is quiet and trembling, but he hears it and his eyes snap open, frantically looking around. 

“Y/-” Your name dies in his throat once he sees you, and he can’t speak anymore. 

For as long as Sweet Pea can remember, he’s been day dreaming about you getting into traumatic accidents. There’s a running competition between the two of you, over who can come up with the most gruesome and violent end for the other.  Unfortunately he is winning due to a very traumatizing death that he said was inspired by both Saw and Final Destination. 

Right now though, your actual life is in threat and he has never wanted anything less in his life. 

A blonde, creepy looking boy around the same age as both of you holds you tight to him, one arm over your chest while the other holds a knife to your throat. There’s a dark haired girl stood beside him, also holding a knife, and even though she doesn’t look as intimidating as the blonde, it does nothing to make Sweet Pea feel better. 

“Wow, Jones was too scared to find us himself he sent his lackeys to do his dirty work.” 

“Let her go...please.” His voice breaks and he takes a careful step towards you. His hands already reaching into his pocket, desperately searching for his knife and brass knuckles, but he stops when he makes eye contact with the boy. 

“And we are not his lackeys.” You protest, despite the knife digging into your skin further, and the hold on you becoming tighter. 

Whatever Sweet Pea was feeling, whether it was fear, vulnerability or something in between completely disappears. And his gaze shifts from the man holding you, to you yourself, the same annoyed expression on his face. “Maybe focus on the knife being held to your throat, and then argue about what we are to Jughead.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You roll your eyes. 

“Oh sorry for trying to save your life.” 

“Save my life? You couldn’t even sav-” 

“Is this a bad time? Do you want us to come back and kill you later orrr?” The girl asks sarcastically as she looks between you and Sweet Pea. Both of you look at each other before looking at the floor. 

“Continue.” You grumble and you feel the knife slice into your skin. A small cry escapes your lips and Sweet Pea looks up quickly. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so frightened, and you definitely didn’t think you’d be on the receiving end of such a look, but there’s something about it that stirs something inside of you, in spite of the very inappropriate moment.

“Okay.” She says, twirling the knife in-between her fingers. “We can either do this the easy way, or the even easier way. We’re going to make it look like a fight that went wrong. And then we’ll stumble out of the woods, covered in blood, crying, saying that it was self defense.” She smiles wickedly. 

“Even better idea, we don’t even have to be here. We could make it look like a fight between two gang members.” 

“Hmmm.” You and Sweet Pea say at the same time. Both of you know it’s very rare that Serpents kill each other, so that wouldn’t work, but as soon as you look at each other after the collective thought, do you realize the mistake you made. Never say ‘hmm’ when faced with death. 

“Aww, thanks for helping us plan your death.” The boy says. “So no to the fight between gang members. What about a fight between two lovers.” 

“Ew.” You mutter. 

“Gross.” Sweet Pea adds. 

“I’d rather just die.” You shrug and Sweet Pea sends you a look. 

“Y/n.” He sighs. 

“Fine, we’ll just go with the fight.” The boy huffs, moving the knife to the other side of your neck and digging it in. Blood trickles down your chest making both you and Sweet Pea wince. 

“You want to fight?” Your force the words out of your mouth and you can feel the look Sweet Pea is giving you. “Come on then, fight me.” The two of them exchange glances, they clearly weren’t expecting an answer from you. Whoever sent them to do this, definitely underestimated how stubborn serpents are, so maybe Fangs was right about you and Sweet Pea, maybe you were both too stubborn to get along. 

The ten seconds that they’re distracted, gives you and Sweet Pea a chance to look at each other. A silent conversation happens between the two of you and even though you’re not entirely sure of what he’s saying, you just hope you got the basic idea and so you send him a nod. 

While they’re distracted, Sweet Pea reaches into his pocket, slowly pulling his knife out, and as soon as they look back, you start your plan. Quickly you kick the guy as hard as you can in the shin making him fall and push you away from him, dropping the knife as he does. You swiftly pick it up and Sweet Pea uses the distraction to grab the girl, pressing his own knife against her neck. 

You stand a few feet away from them, holding your own knife and the one you stole out in front of you. 

“Touch her if you never want to see the light of day again.” He whispers in the girls ear and he sends a look to her weird friend that makes him stop in his tracks. 

“Now.” You smile. “Do you want to do this the easy way, or the hard way?” 

----

Dawn breaks as you both stumble out the forest. You’re covered in cuts and bruises, but thankfully you’ve stopped bleeding so you’ll take that as a win. Usually you enjoy beating up rich kids, its one of the few things you and Sweet Pea can bond over, but right now you just want to go home. 

They may have been preppy, but they definitely knew what they were doing. And they’d managed to escape, slipping away from you and through the trees. They may have gotten away, but they were barley in one piece, and so you figured that would be enough to bide Jughead some time with whatever he was planning. 

There’s a togetherness about fighting. For a while you, both you and Sweet Pea were sure you were going to die in there, and so now that you’re walking through the sleepy streets of the town, there’s a part of you thats glad the other made it out. 

They say fighting changes you. It awakens something in you. Usually that something is hate or anger, but both of you already have enough of that. 

No, this is something else. 

Respect for the other? Or maybe fondness? Whatever it is, its new and it swirls around the both of you, leaving you unsure of how to act. So you walk to Jughead’s house in silence, your arms brushing gently against each other every so often. 

Jughead’s house is quiet as the two of you walk through the front door. The Jones/Cooper house is full, serpents mill about the place, with either food or drinks in their hands. And Jughead is in the middle of them, stood right in the centre of the living room. It seems you and Sweet Pea weren’t the only people sent to their deaths last night. 

Everyone looks surprised as you walk into the living room. They probably expected at least one of you to be dead, whether that was because of something is the woods, or one of you, its surprising to see you two alive, with just a few cuts and bruises. 

“Did you guys find anything weird.” 

“Oh, you know. The usual.” You shrug. Jughead nods, deciding to talk to you about it in private later on. And so he starts talking to the group again, you and Sweet Pea practically blending into the background. But there’s a definite shift in atmosphere. 

Usually when you and Sweet Pea are in a room together there’s tension, and everybody is aware of it. But this time, its different. It feels light, despite the tense subject being discussed. Everyone can feel the change, but nobody can figure out what it is. 

Only you and Sweet Pea know what has changed. And as he squeezes your hand in his, a soft smile appearing on his face as he looks at you, you have a feeling a lot more things are going to change. Some of them may not be for the good, it seems like there’s a lot more to be uncovered in Riverdale, but one things for sure, you’re glad Sweet Pea is by your side for it.

[irene-sadler]

severe thunderstorm warning

but wait theres more

a tropical storm is rollin through town so it is absolutely disgusting outside and (mostly unrelated) i was up until 2 am yesterday/this morning b.c i decided to watch the stupid seattle mariners steelheads go into extra innings yet again (tfw ur a fan of a west coast team and u live 4 timezones away so the 10th inning takes place at 1 in the morning) 

anyway during that time i wrote a lil follow up to the executioner so nobody will hate me until uh 

the actual follow up is written which at my usual pace will be in approximately october. 

yw enjoy todays double header of hot nonsense this one’s called 

Severe Thunderstorm Warning:

     A week had passed, and even if she’d maybe made up her mind, she still hadn’t actually talked to Reynard about it.

     In her defense, nonstop days in the saddle interrupted only by an all out battle with a Nilfgaardian relief force and a followup skirmish with their baggage train guards hadn’t left much time for side conversations.  By night, the army either marched or caught a few hours of sleep when it was too dark to keep moving. She could count the number of words she’d exchanged with Reynard about something unrelated to the wounded, the condition of the bridges they used and the towns they passed, or the unpleasant but not undrinkable casks of acidic wine they’d captured on two hands. Most of them were just greetings, offered in the morning with his usual overdeveloped sense of social protocol, at night with a hint of some underlying emotion to suggest he actually meant them. It almost made her nostalgic for the days when her total forces were, more or less, a ragged collection of highwaymen with slings, a half unit of Lyrian pikemen, and a stray dog.

    On the other hand, she wouldn’t exactly be able to rush to the Aedirnian’s rescue without the trailing, dusty, exhausted mass of soldiers that snaked along the road under the baking afternoon sun, from one end of the flat horizon to the other, and she didn’t have enough men, maybe, even then. A big enough opposing force with a little more rest, a few more horses, and a following wind might be able to take them out. A private conversation was a small price to pay for an army that could probably hold its own in the field, with even odds.

    “Storm’s coming,” Gascon announced, riding in from the head of the column with a scout and a thick cloud of dust trailing him. She snapped back to the present and looked skyward.  A hawk or vulture crossed far overhead, almost too small to see. There were a few, smallish, grayish clouds drifting gently across the endless blue, and, above those, the edge of a very high, white cloud cover that might set in overnight and block the moon. She hoped she was wrong; she couldn’t march in total darkness, and the loss of four or five hours of moonlight would set them back seven or eight hours of actual travel time.

    Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Reynard glanced upward and then shrugged at her when she looked back down.

    “Uh. Metaphorically?”

    “No,” Gascon said. “Literally. It’s crossin’ the plain fast, will be in sight pretty soon. Tipper, here, thinks it’ll be a bad one.”

    “Lot of lighting in them clouds,” the scout noted, squinting. “Looks just like th’ one from last week, if you ask me; don’t like t’ be out here in th’ open when it hits, but nowhere else t’ go -”

    “How much time do we have?” she asked, interrupting the man’s lecture, which seemed to be going nowhere fast. Gascon glanced behind himself, toward a vague, pale smudge on the northeastern horizon.

    “Thirty minutes?”

    “More like ten,” the scout said.

    “Better stop the column, then,” she said, resisting the urge to swear pointlessly and waste a few irreplaceable seconds. “Gascon - ride up to the front - have ‘em spread out, stay low to the ground. Reynard -”

    “The back,” he said, immediately, wheeling his horse around. “I’m on it.”

    The supply wagons wouldn’t be able to drop out of the wind and lightning in the open field, and would have to circle around and hope for the best, but she didn’t have to tell him that. He could do his job without her. She focused on the middle, diverting riders and scouts up and down the column with orders for every junior officer and NCO they came across. The result was that, as a black cloud blocked out the blue sky and the air abruptly shifted from dead still to a gusty breeze headed toward it, the army came to a grinding halt and spread out, laying out under canvas tarps and cloaks until the plain was dotted with clustered shelters. Loose horses drifted among them groups, ears tilted back.

    It would have to do, she thought, reviewing the sprawling, messy product of her efforts. If the storm was as bad as it looked like it would be, it was all they could do. She dropped off her twitchy, unhappy horse, turned it loose to fend for itself with the others, and realized that her own cloak was somewhere with the faraway baggage.

    She squinted up at the boiling cloud overhead and frowned dubiously. The wind had died again. Thunder rumbled nonstop in the distance and crashed overhead. It didn’t look good, she had to admit, and she was lucky to have a scout who could read the signs. If she hadn’t gotten ahead of the storm by a few minutes, it would have been a disaster. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much chance of getting her cloak or even a jacket before the rain started. She’d been caught unprepared and there was nothing she could do about it.

    It could always be worse, she told herself, pointedly. She spent a minute with her cavalry commander, come up on foot to report that his units had made themselves fast as much as possible.

    “Can’t answer for the horses, though,” he said. “We had to let ‘em go, on the chance this’ll be one of them hurricanes.”

    “Hurricanes?”

    “Whirlwinds.”

    “Yes. Good idea,” she said, picturing the havoc one of those would cause. She doubted there would be one, but -

    “You just never know what might happen,” the Colonel noted.

    “No. Good luck,” she said. “Once this clears out, we’ll be back on the move.”

    Eventually, if everything went perfectly. She didn’t have to voice the thought; he knew what could go wrong. He saluted and headed off toward a distant fork of lighting from the ground to the clouds. The wind suddenly picked up again as soon as he left, gusted toward the clouds, then back in the opposite direction, bringing a strong smell of rain and a strange, greenish cloud with it. She squinted at it. It was like rain, traveled along the ground like rain, but it was the wrong color. By the time she realized that it was a cloud of blowing grass and dust it was too late to duck before the mess hit her right in the eyes. She turned away from the wind, got caught up in the stinging hail that instantly followed it, and stumbled directly into something solid. Whatever it was caught hold of her by the shoulders before she could push off of it; she squinted at it and recognized Reynard in time to keep herself from decking him. He said something that the thunder drowned out. She shook her head.

    “Come on,” he shouted, into her ear. She let him drag her onto the ground, under the dirty gold cape he held over their heads. It was just about big enough to cover both of them, if they huddled close together. Another few inches and she would be sitting in his lap. It wasn’t like she was entering unprecedented territory; she told herself to not think too hard about it.

    “Where’s your cloak?” he asked. She shrugged.

    “Somewhere in the baggage train. Where’d you come from?”

    “There. I had time to grab mine,” he said, paused, for a deafening crash of thunder, seemed to be out of things to say afterward. The hail stopped banging off the cloth over their heads. A waterfall of rain followed it.

    “What a mess,” she said.

    “It’ll clear up soon.”

    He was maybe three inches away from her. She was extremely aware that the last time she was this close to him she had been in his bed. He glanced away, like the same thought had crossed his mind. Unfortunately for him, there wasn’t much else for him to look at; he was back to watching her, a little warily, a second or two afterward. She had plenty of things she could talk about, and one or two she should talk about, but the words just weren’t coming to her.

    If she kissed him, nobody would know about it, she noted to herself, instead of trying to find any. It would be easy; he was literally right there, watching her with a slightly too intense look in his eye. She had told him she was thinking their relationship, whatever it was, over, but she had always known what she was going to do. She just hadn’t had the time or the place. or the words to tell him. This was not any of those things. It was damp, because the cape was leaking slightly, and a little awkward, and she could barely hear herself think over the rain and thunder. Nothing about the situation was convenient for an extremely personal and delicate conversation.

    “I had a weird chat with Gascon, the other night,” she said, instead. He looked vaguely confused, like he had expected something else.

    “What about?”

 ——        

    It was two in the morning, probably, and they were still marching under the light of a dwindling half-moon. She was pretending she wasn’t tired and sore. Everyone else seemed to be half-asleep on their feet, at best.

    “Good morning, Meve,” Gascon said brightly, riding up next to her and interrupting her wandering mind. “You’re looking pensive and thoughtful. What gives?”

    “Huh?”

    “I mean, lately, you’ve been mostly surly and unapproachable. Which, don’t get me wrong, is a good look on you, but this one’s a little less terrifying.”

    She frowned at him and decided there was no particularly good response to the comment.

    “You want an apple? I stole some from th’ orchard we passed earlier.”

    He held one out, with the same encouraging smile he used when he offered his dog a bone. She squinted at the offering. It was definitely a crabapple, and definitely not really ripe. Her stomach growled anyway.

    “Yes, all right.”

    She caught it in midair; he waited for her to eat half of it before he asked, casually, “So. What are you thinking about?”

    She shrugged vaguely. When she wasn’t thinking about Villem or coming up with a dozen schemes and contingency plans for the next day, week, month, she was mostly thinking about Reynard. By unspoken consent, they had carefully avoided being alone together at any point in the last couple of days. The distance hadn’t made her feel any better. The only good thing about the situation was she was pretty sure nobody had noticed anything different.

     He rolled his eyes at her.

    “Silent treatment, is it? Been taking notes from Reynard lately?”        

    Nobody except Gascon, apparently. She raised an eyebrow at him, warningly. He blithely ignored it.

    “Or maybe you already had that little strategy down. You have known each other for a long time, after all. How long’s it been?”

    She cleared dust out of her throat. The question seemed harmless. She didn’t see any reason to not answer it.

    “Uh. Eighteen years. Maybe more.”

    “That long, huh?”

    He had a curious gleam in his eye. She eyed him cautiously.

    “What was he like back then?”

    She thought about it for a minute.

    “Well, I was - nineteen? So he was, what, maybe twenty-two? He was - I don’t know - about like he is now, only younger.”

    She had met Reynard at the same time as all her new husband’s other knights. She hadn’t really noticed anything particularly interesting about him specifically, at the time, if she was honest. He was young, barely said anything because he was so stiff with nerves and propriety, and had a patchy mustache he was trying to grow out, to make himself look older. The stiffness had largely survived the years, as a defense mechanism. The mustache, fortunately, hadn’t. She smiled a little; they had both gotten older and wiser, or, at least, less insecure. She wondered what they would be like in another twenty years.

    “You’re drifting again,” Gascon said. She snapped back to the present and eyed him.

    “What?”

    “Oh, you know; I bring up Reynard, you get this faraway look in your eyes and start staring off at nothin’. It’s a thing you’ve been doin’, lately. You should probably be more careful; people are bound t’ notice. Other people, I mean.”

    The side-eye turned to a glare; she turned her full attention on him.

    “What do you mean, exactly, Brossard? And keep your voice down, for once.”

    “Well,” he said, carefully, “I mean, I know you didn’t go dig through the stash we had in the closet, back in Rivia Castle; only two people had keys to it, far as I know - me and the quartermaster. Carver didn’t stir between midnight and dawn, like usual, and I had mine on me the whole time. Doubt you wandered off t’ look at the scenery for a couple hours, and I couldn’t help noticin’ that Reynard bunked not twenty feet away from your room -”

    “So?”

    “So, maybe, that’s where you were that night. Maybe. Don’t worry, I didn’t mention this, uh, theory of mine t’ anyone. If it’s true, far as I’m concerned, it’s your business. Well, yours and his.”

    “Then why bring it up?”

    He tilted his hat back a little, considered her suspicious face in the torchlight.

    “Because you look kind of miserable, if I’m honest. Did your chat after the Lester affair go that bad?”

    “No,” she said, looking ahead again, trying to pretend she wasn’t miserable, just tired. “No, not exactly. It’s - it’s complicated.”

    “You keep saying that,” he said. “Not everything has to be complicated, you know.”

——

    “Complications,” she said, vaguely. Reynard didn’t look any less confused.

    “What do you mean?”

    “I don’t mean anything. Listen,” she said, deciding maybe Gascon was right, just this once, in this very specific situation, “If I kissed you, right now, would it change anything between us?”

    He blinked at her.

    “No.”

    A trickle of cold water seeped through the cape and ran into her hair. She shifted forward, away from it and toward him, leaned in, and pressed her lips against his. He kissed her back, slightly uncertainly for a second or two, but when she moved closer and slid her right hand around the back of his neck his lips opened slightly and she could tell he stopped thinking about it. He was busy maintaining their ineffective shelter, but she had nothing in particular to do with her hands; she felt the pulse pounding in his throat with her left, ran her right through the short hairs on the back of his head, and let the electric feeling that crawled across her skin and the thundering in her ears drown out her thoughts until, after what felt like not much time at all, he gently pulled his head back.

    “Wind’s stopping,” he whispered. She paused, listening for the real thunder, from the storm. It still crashed overhead, but less often than it had before and mostly somewhere far off to the south; the rain had slowed from a waterfall to a minor downpour, and he was right about the wind. It had shifted direction again, to a gentler crossing breeze that smelled like the oncoming evening. She almost wished it wouldn’t, and the storm would keep going, but time passed whether she wanted it to or not. There were a lot of things she couldn’t control.

    If she was honest, given a few more minutes, she would be one of those things.

    “Damn,” she said, under her breath. “Just when things were going so well. Nothing can ever be easy.”

    “Complications,” he agreed, an ironic smile crossing his face that made her heart stop for a second. “What now?”

    “This,” she said and kissed him again for a long moment that felt like it would crash and burn if it went on. She dragged it out as much as she could, anyway, until a little voice in the back of her mind started warning that any more would result in them being discovered, or a Nilfgaardian cavalry unit would ride over the horizon while she was distracted, or someone would slip and fall on the wet grass, stab themselves on their own dagger, and trigger a day-long safety brief - or some other disaster would happen. He looked her in the eyes for the second or two more that she let herself waste, smiled slightly, like he knew what she was thinking, and then she forced herself away from him, out of the shelter of his cape and into the drizzle. A hint of blue sky was showing through the darkness on the northern horizon. The army was still battened down around them. An offended cluster of horses stood around a hundred yards away, dripping. Reynard carefully shook water off his cape and frowned disapprovingly around at the disorder.

    “About time we got going,” she agreed, reaching a hand toward him. He took it; she pulled him to his feet, smiled up at him for another strangely long second, and let him go.

    “I’m on it,” he said.