#long beard is unacceptable

[thebutterflyranger]

NO BEARD WILL WEEK !!!!??????? YOU GUYS ARE INCREDIBLE

[bisexualpussy]

honestly, the weirdest thing about being a detransitioner and embracing femininity is that it was drag queens and trans women who made me realize womanhood can be accepting and FUN instead of a social expectation. Sitting in the drag bar with a hard whisky, beard, and jean jacket was great, heeled cowboy boots are great, being addressed as "Sir" and the ability to safely enter a men's bathroom and be assumed cisgender was a hard earned one. I got lucky on the genetics lottery, and I'll admit that. Being a long-haired, pretty cowboy was my gender ideal, and I achieved it!

But then I saw how much fun the girls were having and kind of missed it. Don't get me wrong, I'm mostly friends with women and effeminate queers.

Now I've fully detransitioned the other way, I got to trans my gender THREE TIMES NOW. Medically. [I didn't get top surgery] I'm not really sure if this has to do with growing up in a very bigoted and unaccepting environment (the south), but I feel beautiful and confident lately. Currently, I identify as a bisexual woman with a masculine personality.

I just want to tell all the struggling boys, men, and queers out there that you're seen and your emotions are real. Someone loves you, and if it needs to be me, then I'll love you too. Keep your heads high kings. 💕🌻💖

[mayhemspreadingguy]

@magnusbae, not expecting I'd follow through, suggested to sketch Anakin but with cat fangs... Things got out of hand.

Also, look! Magnusbae gifted me with a most lovely fic inspired by my art (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) (fic under the cut, 3,800+ words).

That’s it. Anakin had resisted long enough. 

All through morning, noon and even dinner. He had done his Katas, had finished his chores, even went through his studies, all without so much as a single comment. He deserves to be commended personally by Master Yoda for being an exemplary Jedi. He deserves to be knighted right this moment seeing how he never even mentioned just how force karked awful his Master’s hair looked like for the past week. Sticking in all directions, it grows in uneven patches, the addition of a beard is somehow making his elegant Master look like a beggar from the streets and that, that is intolerable. 

Anakin growls quietly, muscles tense. He knows his Master most likely can feel him staring holes through him, and yet he simply continues reading his datapad, not asking nor looking, radiating calm in the force. Anakin wonders if he could tidy that mess with the power of thought alone. Would that be considered a frivolous use of the force? Even if done in the service of the republic? After all, his Master’s good looks are the cornerstone of the… 

Obi-Wan scratches at the back of his head, clearly bothered and Anakin can’t tolerate this anymore, cannot accept this anymore. His tongue is itching something fierce, his hands are sweating, he cannot sit still like there’s fire ants filling his pants and crawling up his spine. He cannot tolerate this. If not for himself, he must do this for his Master. If not for his Master, then for the order. If not for the order, then for the Galaxy. If not for the Galaxy, then for the Force itself. For he can swear by all that he holds dear that the Force itself is embarrassed by his Master being so unkempt, so ungroomed. 

Unacceptable. This is absolutely unacceptable. His Master has to always look neat and nice and put together, smelling fresh and looking proper. That’s the only right way for his Master to be. Anakin will not stand for it being any other way. He will not. He will make it right. 

His Master ignores the first lick. He often does that, pretends to not notice in the hopes of Anakin stopping after catching himself at his instincts. Oftentimes it works. Oftentimes it is an accident. But not this time. This time it’s very much on purpose and very much intended to continue until Anakin is satisfied with the results. All Anakin needs is for his Master to continue pretending to not notice long enough for him to fix this mess. 

Two more licks, lower neck up the scratchy beard and—

“Anakin—” his Master stops pretending so suddenly that Anakin’s tongue moves over his jawline and across the beard in a way that tickles funny. Anakin likes how it feels, rough and interesting, makes him curious about how it’ll feel like to lick across the jawline, where the beard is the thickest.

Knowing he does not have much time before his Master attempts to stop him altogether, Anakin leans in with renewed urgency, tongue ready, mouth starting to water— “Anakin, stop!” a strong hand pushes against his shoulder, moving him a distance away without being as rough as to push. 

“Mrrphh!” Anakin protests, pushing against the hand but not fighting it actively. His Master can be so bossy when he gets like this, so unreasonable. The only way to win is to use his words, otherwise his Master might just walk off and hide in his rooms instead. Or worse, go meditate in the halls, where everyone will see this shameful disaster.

“You need the grooming, Master!” Anakin starts with the foundation and heart of his objection. His Master always teaches that it’s important to be able to pinpoint the problem early on and address it quickly so as to not let it fester and become bigger than it must be. Granted his Master spoke of interpersonal disputes however it absolutely does apply here. His Master simply cannot deny this reasoning, ergo, will not be able to dispute it as untrue. “So just let me!” Anakin adds, before his Master could somehow find a way to object.

Can’t his Master see that Anakin is offering him a service? Out of the kindness of his heart, no less. Him enjoying the way his Master’s flavor sits on his tongue, the way it makes all the small hairs on his body stand on end, how it fills him with excitement— His Master’s scent, rich and spiced and safe— how he favors it above all else even when the exotic teas make him sneeze and sneeze— the way a single point of contact would narrow his senses into a single point of focus, clear his mind of all worries— the way his vision relaxes, the way his nostrils flare and he inhales and inhales and inhales— the way his heartbeat peaks and then slows, the way his mouth goes dry and he feels thirsty, hungry even— all that, all that has nothing to do with his altruistic motivations. He’s just looking out for his Master. Obviously, duh. 

“Master.” He can hear his own voice, can hear how it takes a whiny note his Master often teases him for. It’s hard to care when he has a goal bigger than his own ego. “Just let me.” He demands, he can hear it and he still doesn’t stop himself from reaching for his Master’s flowing robes, claws catching on the material and making him shudder. Maybe he does need trimming just like his Master insists each time they spar. Maybe Anakin will allow it, if his Master is good and allows him this. Maybe he’d even let his Master groom him too.

The bewilderment in the force clues Anakin on the fact that yes, maybe he did forget to shield, again. He huffs through his nose, wrinkling it. He really doesn’t know what the big deal with this is, doesn’t understand the obsession everyone and especially his Master, has with hiding every single urge and instinct and thought they have. It’s not like he thinks anything he wouldn’t also say out loud. Maybe if the Jedi used less of those shields, it would have been much easier to communicate with them, to bond with them, and maybe then he’d feel less like an outsider, like an odd bird out of its cage.

“Oh Anakin..” Obi-Wan sighs, the tension loosening from his hold against his shoulder, rather than scolding, there’s the hints of the sadness his Master expresses each time Anakin feels alienated in this place. It is not his fault no one understands him, it is not his fault he is different than everyone. 

“Master.” Anakin chirps back, rolling his eyes. His Master has the oddest of tendencies to get hung up on the most particular of topics. Anakin not having enough friends, per his Master’s opinion, is one such topic. Nevermind the fact that Anakin had never seen his Master ever share a true conversation with a single person. Other than himself. Of course. His Master does talk to him.

His Master will get fixated on him instead of thinking about himself and nag him to half death. ‘Anakin get more friends’ and ‘Anakin don’t spread the droid parts all across the quarters’ and ‘Anakin I’m a grown man I can groom myself.’ And while some of those things might be true, obviously, the last one is not. “You look like a mess.” Anakin says it to his face, because he and his Master are real friends.

“Thank you Padawan.” His Master answer, no longer sounding sad, instead his voice is dripping with sarcasm. Anakin doesn’t like it, but he supposes it’s better than sadness. “I do not recall asking for your no doubt impeccable sense of— Ahnakin—!” his ranting stops mid warming up when Anakin uses the opening to dart forward and lick him again, from the lowest exposed spot of his neck, up the smooth skin, his rough tongue making a satisfying ‘shh’ sound as it catches at the hair of the beard and smooths it up with his lick. The flavor is… is… 

Obi-Wan had used some sort of balm… some sort of synthetic musk that makes Anakin’s brain swim funny and eyes to close and mouth to water even more. He has to swallow down the saliva lest he drool like a hungry Tooka. It’s hard not to, when his Master is so, so, so karkin yummy. He slams his shields up with a clumsy thud in the force, but maybe just a moment too late to cover up that last thought.

“Anakin!” his Master sounds properly scandalized, voice raising to a tone that always makes Anakin’s ears ring uncomfortably and the following lecturing tone is no better. “Cease this nonsense immediately, you must not—" 

Anakin licks again. The side of his neck and up to the point where skin meets ear. “Master.” He says there, voice dropping into a purr that morphs into a warning growl he didn’t even think of making, there’s no aggression, only the frustrated warning to not stop him in the middle of something so damn important. Grooming, is important. More than Katas or studies or meditations. Maybe even more than sparring. And Anakin loves sparring. 

All Anakin wants is for his Master to sit quietly and let him take care of him. The way he ought to, the way he was meant to do. It’s his job, after all, is it not? He is Obi-Wan’s Padawan, it’s only natural he would tend to his Master, that he would care for him, that he would help him. That just makes sense. That rings true in the force and that’s all Anakin needs to know.

"I will.” He declares, it is no longer a request nor a plea, it is a declaration of intentions. A declaration of intent. He presses his nose at the soft skin under his Master’s ear and inhales, deeply, the scent making him Master-stupid so he says what’s on his mind with no filters, with no thought. “Unless you hate me.” His voice drops softer, he can’t breath, having inhaled too much of the strongest drug known to him. “Then I won’t” he trembles, he waits, if his Master rejects him, if he does hate him for his care, he will, he

“Anakin, this is hardly related, I do not think that—”

The force between them sparks and Obi-Wan’s mouth snaps closed with an audible click of the jaw. There’s a tension and a heating of an eruption that is halted with the calming breeze of spring air, Obi-Wan’s Force Signature covering his own, soothing, embracing, calming. “Very well, Padawan.” Obi-Wan speaks with a voice of a man who’s been worn in battle, sighing out in exhaustion.b “Since you cannot resist your nature, I’ll allow it.“ He pauses, sounding not a little doubtful as he adds the obligatory “Just this once, Anakin.” A final form of giving in, one Anakin is familiar with. 

There’s an ‘You should be old enough to know better’ goes unsaid and so Anakin ignores it. It wouldn’t have mattered even if Obi-Wan did say it. He had before, many times, and it never mattered. Anakin somehow doubts it’ll matter even when he grows taller than Obi-Wan. And he will, he just knows it. He will grow tall and strong, and he will always take care of his Master, and Obi-Wan would not be able to argue with that. Because it’ll all make sense. It always does. Everything about them does. 

If only his Master understood him better, he’d know that one doesn’t just grow out of wishing to groom those he cares and…loves. This is something that is forever and always. That is something that only grows and deepens, something to be shared and relished. Something he will always give to his Master freely, even if his Master maybe doesn’t…. Really share it in the same way as him. Which is fine. He had decided a long time ago. It is fine. 

It is enough that he gets to care for his Master. So he smiles instead and purrs out a sweet “Thank you, Master.” In that respectful manner he knows his Master enjoys hearing. He giggles when he feels his Master’s breath hitching, giggles more when nuzzling against the neck tickles his nose. “This is so horrible.” He complains, wanting his Master to know how strongly he objects to this change, and yet he cannot stop giggling. “Master!” he doesn’t even try to hide his joy from his voice, nevermind from the Force.

His Force Signature is a slow pulse of contentment, securely tucked beneath Obi-Wan’s still. When he licks small licks under Obi-Wan’s ear, he can feel his Master’s breath catching, can feel the way he stops breathing entirely and the soft gasp when Anakin licks at his ear directly, once, twice, a few more times just to test how committed his Master is to this session. Very, it seems. His Master doesn’t object even when Anakin grows bold and nibbles at his earlobe, tugging ever so gently. His Master is always so sensitive around this area, always so jumpy if Anakin stays too long at this spot. It always makes Anakin want to lick there until Obi-Wan loses his composure entirely.

He never does. 

At least not too much.

He does want to groom Obi-Wan after all, not only bully him into squirming because he is so damn ticklish there. That is not to say that he is above wanting to see his pristine Master squirming a little. So he licks there again, and when his tongue dips only a little into the ear, his Master finally jumps and moves away, breathing harshly and looking redder than his hair.

“Anakin I do believe that my hair is not located in that particular spot and—” his hands close on Anakin’s shoulders when he makes it to the ear again, wanting to nibble just one more time, just one last time… “Anakin.” His Master’s firm voice snaps him back into focus, tells him gently through the force to not overdo it. Fine, fine. He will not overdo it. This time.

"Just relax, Mastah.” Anakin pouts, the word slurring in the way his Master always corrects. Always, but not now. Anakin reaches for his Master’s wide shoulders and waits a moment until his Master’s grip loosens enough for him to actually move. It’s easy enough to shift to his Master’s lap. One knee over and sitting down in one smooth motion that has a practiced finesse to it. You either get to Obi-Wan’s lap swiftly, or you don’t at all. There is no room for hesitation for his Master will do enough hesitating for the both of them. So he sits down and nudges closer, right away. Inhaling, inhaling deeper.

Oh how he wants their scent to become one. They’re already nearly inseparable, living as closely as they do, using the same soaps, eating the same foods. Anakin wants more. Anakin wishes that they could smell and feel like one. United. Clearly bonded. Even more than they are through the force. He wants it so much that his fangs itch, itch, itch to bite and bite and bite. But no. No he is here to groom, to care. Not to bite, not to… mark. His cheeks are warm with it, knowing that he has, and is, constantly considering this. Wondering about this, curious about this. About marking his Master in a way that will be known, in a way that will be understood. He thinks about it, always. Luckily his Master has no clue. Luckily, Obi-Wan does not know. Or he wouldn’t let him sit here so carelessly, surely, he wouldn’t. 

“It’s part of it, duh.” Anakin says without truly knowing what he speaks of. The grooming, the licking, the biting, the sitting on the lap? He doesn’t know. He only knows of the happy, loud purr that fills his lungs when Obi-Wan doesn’t stop him from leaning back in, back to his neck, nuzzling, smelling, licking up that rough, funny tasting beard and to his hair, spiky and significantly softer than the beard. He giggles again, and purrs. It’s an odd combination of sounds he does try to stop but doesn’t manage. He is too preoccupied for dignity, or decorum, or class. He’s too karking pleased. 

When he licks at his Master’s neck again, the man tilts his head up and away, exposing his throat for him. Good. Good. Good, great, awesome.

His Master couldn’t have displayed his trust more plainly than this. No words could have conveyed the same level of commitment, of confidence and belief. Exposing one’s throat, Anakin thinks, is a universal sign. Even if his Master is less inclined to instincts as Anakin is, it still counts, it still matters a whole lot that he does it for him. His Master does it because he knows it matters to him and that— that matters more than all else.

His own purring is deafening, drumming in his eardrums and filling his chest with sound, he used to try to hide this in the past when he realized that most Padawans did not purr at every one of their Master’s compliments or gestures of kindness. He no longer bothers. He pulls and licks and purrs some more. He takes his time, licking small, measured licks, taking care to put that awful messy beard into something much neater, dignified.

“Maste-rrr.” He draws the ‘R’, nuzzling again under the ear and grinning when his Master shudders but doesn’t pull away, he always gives him a chance to be good. So he will be good. He does not nibble, instead he wraps his lips carefully around the bit of skin where no hair touches. Oh he wants to suck, to mark, to taste. Oh he does, so much. But he doesn’t. He will be good, because his Master believes him to be good, and proper, and nice. So he will be. 

His cheeks are fire hot when he thinks about what else he would have liked to be doing instead of the promised grooming. That is not something he should be thinking of, nor something his Master would ever permit, but…

Thinking is not illegal and he is not good at not thinking. 

So he imagines it. Imagines how his Master’s hands would feel on his hips, imagines his Master yanking him down to sit properly on his lap, Imagines his Master wanting him to lick elsewhere and—

“Ahnakin—” Obi-Wan protests, so strongly it rings in the force with his words. He feels and looks scandalized, even more so than before. He looks like he is considering all his choices and decisions. He looks like he’s about to call quits. He looks like he’d push Anakin away, he— places his hands on Anakin’s hips and pulls him down, to sit properly. 

The whine that escapes Anakin’s lips is nothing short of mortifying. It’s a needy, surprised thing, he feels like a proper youngling, confused and shy. He seeks the refuge of his Master’s neck and hides there, nuzzling while whining again, complaining, scandalized too by his Master’s audacity to follow his dreams up like this. He can’t mean it, he simply can’t! It is a mere coincidence, his Master would never follow his fantasies, he didn’t even hear it, his shields are up and proper, he’s sure of it, he’s sure of it, he’s… 

“Sorry…” Anakin murmurs out, because if he’s honest, he is not sure if his shields are worth anything with how excited he had gotten. Maybe his Master did hear, maybe his Master did feel something. Maybe he did push a little too hard. He doesn’t want to push too hard, he knows that sometimes his Master gets nervous because of his thoughts. Not angry, never angry.

He doesn’t want to make his Master nervous, he can feel the tell-tales of it in the force. Despite his Master’s secure hold on him, despite his Master’s unmoving frame. He can feel the building up hesitation. He does not want his Master to feel that way with him. 

“I’ll stop.” He promises his Master, assures him. He’ll try to, anyway. For his Master he’d try to go against his nature, even if his nature does tell him to think and do all sorts of things. Sometimes, in the quiet of the night when he can’t sleep and he thinks of his Master and every word they had ever passed, he does wonder about this. Is this truly his nature, his instincts that drive him to act as he does, or is it simply how he is with his Master? He suspects he knows the answer to that, but it’s easier for the both of them to call it instincts and be over with it, so he never disputes it. “Really.”

There’s a charged silence and then, blessedly, his Master says the two words Anakin loves more than anything else in the world, the two words for which he, not jokingly, thinks he might be willing to die for. 

“Good boy.”

The Coruscanti accent is thick and rolling, he sounds almost distracted, he sounds… 

Anakin shuts his eyes and bites his tongue, fangs digging into the soft flesh. He must not think of exactly how he imagines his Master sounding. He should not think about how his hands feel warm and human on his hips. He should not think about the lingering flavor on his tongue nor how his lungs are full of Obi-Wan, of his Master. He should not, is not allowed to. Promised not to. Instead he wraps his arms around his Master’s neck and hugs him, pulling the larger man to himself, having his head against his chest for a few long moments in which he is sure Obi-Wan hears just how fast his heart goes. He surely can feel it through the bond, it’s going crazy, ba-dum, ba-dum. 

He can feel a distant echo of his own heartbeat, almost imperceptible to his senses, and yet there. An answer. Thoomp-thoomp.

When he leans back, he moves his hands to cup his Master’s cheeks and makes him tilt his head up, to face him. “You look good now,” His fangs stretch at his lips as he grins wide enough to hurt. “Master!” he adds, cheekily.

His Master’s eyes are a bright blue, the deepest, calmest pond. He rolls them shortly, then looks directly into Anakin’s own eyes and smiles at him, sarcasm dripping with fondness as he says “Thank you. Ah-nah-kin.” With the most accented tone Anakin had ever heard. There’s so much black in his Master’s eyes, a beautiful, wondrous thing that makes him itch all over and want to see more of that soft darkness no one else gets to see. 

No one else, but him. 

[samsno1]

Hi, idk how often you do requests but could you do a mid season Sam fic. The reader is with the FBI with the unexplained cases and she meets the brothers. It would be funny if they tried to convince her that they are also with the FBI and she somehow catches them in their lie. They work together in the case and Sam and the reader end up falling for eachother. Thanks you so so much!!!!

Caught

Sam Winchester X F!Reader

this took me so long to write i'm so sorry. i don't reeeeally like the ending but i did the best i could. i hope this is what you expected bby <3

Summary: You were assigned a complex case and you end up meeting two very weird men who were, apparently, also FBI agents but...why are they named after famous rockstars?

Warnings: FLUFF, descriptions of murderer, murder scenes and violence (usual supernatural shenanigans), sam is an 'intimidating woman enjoyer™', use of Y/N, the writer (me) has no idea how fbi works because she isn't an USA resident, NOT PROOF READ, english is not my first language

W.C.: 8,8k

enjoy!

You had climbed the ladder in the world of criminology considerably fast considering your age. Getting into the FBI in your late 20s was probably one of your biggest achievements and, of course, men tended to make disgusting comments about how such a young woman got such a difficult job – including claiming you opened your legs to get this far. You didn’t mind, actually, it added to your ego to be above those guys – as if they even deserved to be in a job that required empathy towards the victims.

Still, even your superior was shocked at the case he found. A couple had been killed inside their room without any signs of forced entry. All doors and windows were locked and nothing inside the house had been stolen; the bodies seemed to be torn apart from the inside out since there were no knife or bullet wounds and he put you on the case. He thought you would have the abilities to deal with something like this – ‘you’re a prodigy’ he had said – and the guts. The crime scene was absolutely vile; there was blood everywhere and their faces had the skin peeled off to the point their cranial bones were visible. You had seen some stuff, but nothing like this.

The first thing that you did when you got to town was talking with the local police so that you’d learn more about the town’s history with murderers – especially the unexplainable ones. They told you something close to an urban legend: the house that the couple was renting was cursed according to the locals. Decades ago, three kids got killed by their parents in rage, who committed suicide afterwards. They never found the kids bodies and the case went cold after a few years, the police giving up on finding their remains. You found that absolutely unacceptable, giving up on children like that should be a crime, but it wasn’t up to you. Ever since the assassination, every person that rented or bought the house died in unexplainable ways and the police had started to practically ignore or do the bare minimum on the case.

“We’ve been having problems with that house for years” Said the sheriff, a man with a grown out beard, deep eyebags and average height. Not what you would expect for a sheriff given his dismissiveness towards you and the mess his office was. “The previous sheriff also received complaints from townsfolk regarding the place but we could never find out anything. There were no clues, no suspects, just…nothing” He finished, his arms waving around tiredly.

“This is probably why they put the FBI on the case” You said to yourself, guaranteeing the man wouldn’t hear you. You took notes on your notebook, your legs crossed as you sat in front of the sheriff, his table between both of you. You could sense his eyes on you and feel his unasked question floating around in the air. “Anything else, Sheriff?” You asked, looking up from your notes.

He seemed to wake up from his thoughts, shaking his head lightly at you. “No it’s just…Why do you need three FBI agents to work on this?” He asked, on edge, a worry line prominent in his aged face as he squinted at you. Three? You furrowed your eyebrows and leaned back on the chair, closing your notebook.

“I’m not aware of the other two working alongside me” You say. You thought about what your boss had told you and didn’t remember him saying anything about partners, especially two. You usually worked alone most of the time, functioning better on your own. Then again, this was a difficult case, maybe they thought it was better than one federal agent working on this.

“They came by earlier today, asking about the same house and the murderers. They were tall, one of them was…very tall and had long hair. The other one was less serious and, honestly, unprofessional. I think they said they were agent Page and Plant” The sheriff filled you in and now this seemed like a joke. You raised an eyebrow. You had a peculiar taste in music considering it was the 2000s and your father barely listened to anything further than the 90s, resulting in you growing up to know most of the rock bands that were at their highest from the 60s to the 90s. That included Led Zeppelin. And it would be too big of a coincidence for both guys to work together with last names such as those.

“I’ll talk to them about the case, thank you very much Sheriff” You say, raising yourself from the chair and extending a hand to politely shake his. You walked out of his office with a question in your mind and thought about looking up Page and Plant on the database to see if anything showed up when you got to your room tonight. For now, you had to take a look at the crime scene while it was still daylight.

–

Your car’s engine died down as you turned the key. You opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle, adjusting your suit over the white button down you wore underneath. You shoved your car key in your pocket and, when you looked up, you saw another car that easily stood out from the others around the street – a black Chevrolet Impala which you couldn’t guess the specific year just by looking. It was a very beautiful car and you secretly praised in your mind whoever owned it – it seemed well taken care of.

You walked to the crime scene, taking your badge in hand to show it to the police officer that took care of the place when you saw two men, also in suits, talking with one of the officers – two tall men, one had longer hair. The officer approached you as you got closer and you simply showed your badge to him before he nodded and lifted up the ‘crime scene’ tape for you to go underneath. You ducked down and mumbled a thank you as you made a beeline towards the two guys.

You wondered what you were going to say and how you were going to question them about their identity without seeming like you’re assuming anything. As you walked closer, they were finishing their conversation and were turning to leave making you almost bump right into them. They stumbled back and you crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“Who are you?” The shorter one asked you and you took the badge out of your pocket again with a sigh, making sure he reads your name and sees the picture of you that clearly stated you were a federal. He hummed and looked towards his partner, a silent conversation going on between them. You interrupt.

“And you?” You ask and they get their own badges out. You extend a hand to the taller one, silently asking you if you could take a look at it. He gave it to you willingly, which was one less red flag to take into consideration. You looked through everything and it all seemed alright…until you looked at the name on the bottom. Jimmy Page. Is this serious? You look up at them with a judging look and you see the tallest swallow harshly. “Your parents were big Led Zeppelin fans I assume” You say.

“Yeah, yeah they– ha– they were” Jimmy says in a way that’s not believable at all, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. The shorter one closes his eyes and shakes his head discreetly in disappointment – which doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You give Page his badge back and turn to – apparently – Plant.

“I didn’t know that I would have partners in this case, but maybe it’s for the better. What did you find out about the case? Just so we are on the same page” You look between both of them. Plant nudges his partner in the ribs and, before mumbling somewhat of a curse to Plant after practically jumping in place, Page starts to explain to you about their side of the investigation. He seemed professional enough, with a notebook in his hands as he told you everything they could make up from what they knew so far, even sharing with you his assumptions. You were impressed as you started telling him about what you thought – a weird case, too many murders, few clues…Plant stayed quiet most of the time until about halfway through your conversation he said he was going back to his car and you took that as a hint to call it a day.

“Well, I think we are going to work well together, Agent L/N” Page says with a polite smile and you nod, smiling yourself. You took one of your cards where your professional number was written on along with your name and offered it to him. He gently took it from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours.

“Just in case you have anything else to share” You said and he nodded, a strand of his hair falling over his face, which he mindlessly put back with a brush of his hand. “It was great meeting you, Agent Page”

“You too” He said and, sensing the end of the encounter, you started to walk back to your car. You still couldn’t shake the thought of those two being too suspicious for your liking and you were determined to look them up and see if Agents Jimmy Page and Robert Plant actually existed. You walked fast, your heels knocking against the concrete and you didn’t notice Page’s eyes on you, lost in the movement of your hair as you walked away. What woke him up from his trance, though, was his partner honking and signaling for him to hurry up. He rolled his eyes and walked to his own car, stealing one last glance at you. You turned your head back right on cue, giving him a polite smile and a small wave. He awkwardly waved goodbye back and started to walk to the honking Impala.

You had assumed the unknown car belonged to them and you had written down the plate in your notebook discreetly – just in case. You were impressed by their ability – well, Page’s ability – to analyze crime scenes but you weren’t stupid. You couldn’t just erase the fact that you had no idea who those two were and you were determined to find out, one way or another.

–

Meanwhile, in the Impala, Sam got inside the car in the passenger’s side, almost hitting his head on the roof – like he did most days. Dean was impatiently waiting for him to get in until he saw something clasped in his brother’s hand, his eyes quietly scanning the white paper. In Sam’s distraction, Dean reached for it before he could react. “Hey!”

“You got her number? Wow Sam, never thought of you like that” Dean teased as he looked through your name written in cursive writing and your phone number right under it. Sam snatched the small card back from his brother and shoved it in his pocket, glaring at Dean.

“Shut up man, this is her professional number, she gave it to me so we could talk” He defended as he put his seatbelt on. He mindlessly brushed a hand through his hair again, getting it out of his face as he heard Dean chuckle to himself as Baby’s engine roared to life. Sam looked back to his brother and waited for more teasing to come – as it always did.

“Yeah, talk.” He said, the double meaning in his words floating around in the air but being ignored by Sam. Dean pressed his foot on the pedal so the car would start to move as he shifted into gear. “Besides, she’s an actual FBI agent, don’t you think she’s going to suspect that we aren’t?”

“Dean, I did go to law school, I can manage my way out of this” Sam said with a mischievous smile. He really thought he could, he knew he was smart and he was a damn good liar – he lied in college for a very long time about who he was and what his family did. Not something to be proud of but it came in handy, especially when both him and his brother were in trouble. He had practically lied his whole life about who he truly was, not entirely giving away specific details – especially those who involved his family. Sometimes he regretted it – like he did with Jess – but it was always safer not to know, for both parties. Or so he thought.

“Don’t think she’s stupid–”

“I don’t think she’s stupid–”

“Let me finish” Dean scolded, raising a hand to silence his brother, his eyes still on the road. It was often funny to pay attention to their brotherly behavior and how anyone could know who was the oldest just by these simple interactions. Dean raised his hand and Sam silenced, listening, like how it was when they were kids. “Don’t think she’s naive, she is in the FBI, working alone on a case. I don’t know much about federals but I’m sure that’s not for everyone”

Sam stayed quiet. He knew Dean was right but it wouldn’t hurt to try. Still, he really didn’t think you were stupid, it was impossible to. The way you talked about the case in detail, relating your point of view and what you could gather in a few hours was more than enough evidence to show him you deserved this job more than anyone. He wasn’t used to seeing women in this field, but everytime he did he was convinced that men were definitely unfairly placed higher. Yet, he still didn’t want to get arrested again so he needed to convince you that he and Dean were legitimately federals.

The conversation drifted away in another direction as Sam stared out the window and replied to the small talk Dean made with him every now and then – when he didn’t crank up the volume once Metallica came into the radio playing Creeping Death while they were talking. With a chorus of ‘Die, die!’ being sung by Dean while he beat his hands on the steering wheel to the drum rhythm, Sam’s mind drifted away and he fell asleep with a head against the window, the tiredness of sleepless nights catching up to him.

–

These fuckers. You thought to yourself as you stared mouth agape to the pictures of who you learned were actually Sam and Dean Winchester – not Jimmy Page and Robert Plant. Two brothers, presumed dead a couple years ago.

Your coffee sat cold over the wooden table of the hotel you were staying the night at. You had already changed into your pajamas and taken a hot shower when you decided to take a look at the case again. Two hours later you remembered the two men you encountered and, when you looked a bit deeper in the police files, the results were horrifying. It actually wasn’t that hard to find out about them, a quick look through the FBI database and you found their exact faces – even if Pag- Sam’s hair was relatively shorter then now. You were beyond pissed, especially at yourself, how could you not have known this? How could you let yourself get played like this? Just because the tall guy was a bit of a nerd and kind of cute? Ugh!

You started pacing around your room, not knowing what to do. Confronting them could kill you, they were murderers after all, according to the database, they had killed civilians and federal agents equally as much. You were strong, both physically and mentally, but there was no way you were escaping two guys that were over six feet tall and weighed about two hundred pounds each. You had to play smart, you had to catch them in a weak moment and then. Bingo. You stopped in your tracks and – like a lightbulb lightened up above your head – you had the perfect plan. You had to wait until the next day for you to execute it but it was going to be worth it. You sent their mugshots to your phone through your e-mail and any other evidence that you could use against them.

You still felt slightly weirded out about them. They didn’t seem dangerous, they didn’t freak out the moment they saw you and they were confidently adding to the investigation with actual useful analysis. You were looking deeper through their files and found out they lost their mother in a fire at a very young age – the youngest wasn’t even one year old yet – and their father had died a couple years ago, in ‘06. They had a pretty sketchy life, living off stolen credit cards and fake identities but something interesting you found out was that Sam Winchester actually went to college, he went to Stanford and your eyes widened at that. You wondered what made him quit, maybe his father dying and his brother needing him, maybe he got kicked out, still, going to college after having a childhood like that was more than impressive.

You kept reading about them until the late hours of the night and you only noticed you fell asleep over the papers you left on the table and your computer when a phone ringing startled you awake. The noise echoed inside your head and, as you lifted your head, the sunlight getting into the room through the curtains hurt your eyes. You only noticed how bad you’d slept when you felt a pain shoot through your neck and down your back as you turned your head to look for the phone – great. You groaned and felt around the table with your hand until you felt the square shape of the device and its humming. You clicked to answer after slightly clearing your throat so you’d seem less sleepy and put the phone to your ear.

“Hello, Agent L/N speaking”

“Hey Y/N, how are things going?” The voice of your boss made you unconsciously straighten your back and swallow harshly. You looked at the time on your computer and your heart fell to your stomach. 11:36AM – shit! 

“Hey Sir, everything is running smoothly. I’m currently collecting evidence and later I’m going to the morgue so I can look through the autopsy”

“That’s great, you always do a great job kid” He said and you could feel him smiling on the other side of the line. You felt bad for kind of lying but you had been worrying about other stuff last night.

“Thank you Sir, I’ll report back to you as soon as possible” You reply.

You talked for a while longer as you disclosed the case and, when he finally hung up, it was already past noon. As you got ready for your day, doing your daily morning routine as quickly as you could, you felt your stomach rumble when you got out of the shower, reminding you that you hadn’t had breakfast. You decided then that it was better to stop at a diner or somewhere so you could eat something to go on with your day – since it was already lunchtime you couldn’t necessarily call this brunch. You finished getting ready, putting on your shoes and grabbing the keys to your car while you looked up the closest place to eat something quick.

You drove to the nearest diner that had a decent rating and stopped at the parking lot. When you looked around, you couldn’t believe your luck – or rather the lack of it. The infamous Impala was parked a couple meters from you in all its glory. You audibly sighed but you couldn’t just find another place to eat as quickly, besides, you know what they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Maybe eating at the same place as them was actually a good strategy. You grabbed your wallet and locked your car, confidently walking towards the diner entrance.

The bells dinged above your head as you got in, some eyes looking your way with the noise – including Sam’s. Him and his brother were sitting in a booth in the far corner of the diner, Sam turned in the direction of the door and Dean facing away from it, in his brother’s direction. Sam had his laptop open in front of him as he ate a salad, Dean was eating a burger. Thay had probably been talking before you came in because when you came through the door Sam went quiet as he looked over his brother’s shoulder and Dean kept talking, hunched over his food. You couldn’t listen to their conversation but you gave Sam a slight smile and a nod, your stomach turning as you faked sympathy, as if you didn’t just friendly greet a murderer. He nodded back and that's when Dean slightly turned to look behind him and see you, nodding as well.

You started to walk towards their table, the weight of your hidden gun on your hip more than evident. Just keep calm, you were trained for this. You decided to keep to yourself that you knew their true identity, after all, you were one step ahead of them and, deep down, you knew they could be useful. Their intelligence was beyond impressive – faking your death wasn’t something easy to do. You stood above them with a gentle smile.

“Hello agents, mind if I sit with you?” You asked as politely as you could. Sam scooted almost instantly, changing the placement of his laptop to the side of the window. You didn’t miss the eyebrow raise his brother gave him.

“Hey Ms. L/N. No, not at all, make yourself comfortable” He said, smiling at you. He has dimples you mentally stated.

“Yeah, please” Dean agreed, stretching a hand to the seat beside Sam. His voice was slightly muffled thanks to the food in his mouth and you internally cringed as you could see the chewed food when he talked.

“Thanks. No need to call me by my last name, you can just call me Y/N” You simply said as you sat down, looking almost immediately to the computer screen open in newspapers that dated a couple years back. Murders in the same house all with the same time frame from each other. “I see you work even while you were supposed to be on your break, careful not to burn out Agent Page” You said, looking at his side profile. He seemed embarrassed as your sweet voice got to his ears and awkwardly laughed.

“You know…you don’t need to call me Agent Page, that is just an alias, call me Smith, Sam Smith. That’s Dean Wesson” He said. Huh, claiming aliases, smart move Winchester. “And yeah, I’ve been taking a look at the history of the place, apparently–”

“It’s timed killing” You finished. You scooted slightly closer, pointing your finger to the screen where the date of the newspaper was written at. “Every two years on the same date someone was brutally murdered in the house.”

“Yeah and inside the same room too” Dean pointed out. That you hadn’t noticed. A waiter coming to get your order interrupted the conversation you three were having to get your order. You quickly looked through the menu deciding to eat the quickest and most nutritious stuff there could be at a diner. You thanked the boy that took your order and he walked in long strides towards the kitchen. You came back to the talk you were having with the two brothers and Dean continued. “The master suite. And always couples, someone seems to hate true love” He joked.

“Apparently. Have any ideas for suspects yet?” You asked. If you were going to play pretend you might as well acquire some useful information with it. The boys shared a look between them that they thought you wouldn’t catch, but you weren’t FBI for no reason.

“None yet, still looking into it” Sam said, suddenly seeming on edge, shifting his placement on the booth. You were good at reading body language, it was one of the main qualities that got you in the FBI, interrogating criminals was easy exactly because they couldn’t lie. When you learned their behavior and played your way into their head it destroyed them because even if they were silent, even if they didn’t say anything, you knew what they were lying about – flinching when you mention a certain name or changing the leg they were crossing under the table when you named an address. So, Sam couldn’t hide from you earlier, imagine now that you were inches away.

“Really?” You asked, raising an eyebrow and turning your torso slightly more in his direction, leaning your elbow on the table. He was trapped. You thought about confronting them here, questioning them about their identity in public but you thought better – they definitely had guns on them and two beats one. Either way, you’d put him in a challenging situation, confronting him without even disagreeing verbally. He felt intimidated and now seemed unsure of his own conclusion – how you loved playing these games.

“I mean there’s barely any clues” He laughed nervously. “I was going to call you to see if you had any idea”

“I don’t either, as you said, no leads” You said. The waiter arrived with your food right then and you politely thanked him, drifting away from the conversation you were having with Sam as you started to eat. This time you weren’t paying attention and Dean questioned Sam with a look. What is she on? And the youngest shrugged. You swallowed your food with a pleasant hum, just now noticing how hungry you truly were. “I was thinking we could go to the morgue, if you haven’t already. Take a look at the bodies, see if we find anything”

You were purposefully playing right into their game, faking cluesness and at the same time taking advantage of their abilities to solve the case. It was more important to you to solve whatever was going on to bring peace back to this town than to arrest the brothers who were supposed to be dead. You’d learned that men tended to believe that you were stupid very easily, that you had no idea what you were doing and you started using that to have your way with them. With big doe eyes and feigned innocence you could get very far.

“That’s where we were going later actually. It’s good if you tag along” Sam tells you.

“I would even if you didn’t want me to” You said, joking, but not really. Your tone was humorous  but your smile was bitter. They didn’t seem to notice though and Sam even chuckled slightly at your sarcasm. You noticed the dimples in his cheeks and how boyish his smile was, full of bright white teeth and sincerity. You almost felt bad for being rude until you remembered they were killers – even if they didn’t look like it. Sam didn’t seem the type to brutally murder someone, Dean seemed too stupid to be able to get away with it for so many years, even faking his own death and walking around normally – you’d bet he was the one with the idea to put the name of famous rockstars as FBI aliases.

By the time the conversation was over, so was your food. You left enough money for the bill and a tip and stood up from the booth. “Okay, well, let’s go, we have a lot to do today boys” You said, adjusting your suit, unnecessarily dusting it off. You eyed Dean’s plate, the mess he made similar to how a child would eat. You would have laughed if you were in a more friendly situation. You looked at Sam and with a smile you said: “Don’t be late pretty boy, I’ll be waiting for you”

Then you turned around, politely nodded goodbye to Dean and started walking away, holding back a laugh. Sam stood still, stunned as he stared at you walked out the door, the bells above you ringing twice – one for when you pulled the door, the other after you let it smoothly close behind you. Dean was staring too, his bright green eyes filled with confusion. Once he turned to look at Sam he saw his younger brother completely zoned out, looking in the direction where you once were. He snapped his fingers in front of Sam’s face, who immediately looked at Dean.

“Pretty boy?” Dean questioned, holding back a smirk as Sam rolled his eyes.

“Dean…”

“She’s got you man. I get it, strong and intimidating women, I understand, I understand”

“That’s not it, she seems…off” Sam points out, looking at the door once more to make sure you wouldn’t come back and leaning closer to unnecessarily speak in a lower voice to Dean. “I think she might be an it, the monster we are looking for”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Really? Why?”

“The way she’s acting is, I don’t know, weird”

“Look Sam I know you’re not used to having women hit on you but that doesn’t mean they are monsters” Dean teased, Sam gritted his teeth.

“Dean, I’m serious!”

“Okay, alright, we are going to investigate then” Dean said, raising his hands in fake surrender to his brother’s scolding. “But it doesn’t make sense to me. Didn’t we consider it to be a vengeful spirit?”

“Maybe, or maybe we are dealing with something completely different”

“Alright smart-ass, but if you’re wrong you owe me a six pack”

Sam scoffed but he wasn’t one to turn down any bet. He had thought your behavior was weird the moment you stepped foot in the diner. The questions you asked, the way you would constantly question his abilities, there was something going on and he could sense it. Besides, he liked betting with Dean, especially winning, so there was no way he wasn’t accepting his brother’s challenge.

“Deal” Sam said, hitting his palms against the table and standing up, ready to leave and go to the morgue. Dean followed his movements and stood up with a cheeky smile, taking out his wallet to pay for the food.

–

At the morgue, you waited about 5 minutes until they arrived. When they walked up to the entrance you were waiting at, Sam and Dean saw you in a much more serious state as you read through your notes and made annotations here and there. The noise of their footsteps made you look up and put your little notebook back in your pocket and place your pen behind your ear. You crossed your arms in front of your body and waited for them to get closer. Your heels were starting to hurt the bottom of your feet from standing too long in the same place and you were overwhelmed with different emotions – towards the men and yourself.

You weren’t necessarily scared of Sam and Dean, you were trained not to be, but it was never in your plans to be alone in a city with federal criminals, it would be downright ignorant not to be at least nervous with the situation. You were keeping yourself friendly without giving away any hint that you might know who they were, debating internally which would be the worst case: if you confronted them or stuck beside them for longer – what’s that say again? Friends close, enemies closer.

“Hey, Y/N” Sam called you and you turned your lips upwards in some-kind of a smile. He mirrored your expression and you caught his dimples again, your eyes wandering around his face. You broke the stare when Dean cleared his throat and, when you looked at him, he had his eyebrows furrowed, giving Sam a side-eye – more like a diagonal one, since, well, Sam was a big guy. In your own trance you hadn’t noticed how Sam was also looking at you like you were a beautiful piece of art – damn it, focus.

You also cleared your throat and that seemed to wake Sam up. “Hello Sam, Dean” You said, nodding to each “Shall we go inside? The longer we take the further the killer goes, come on” You turned your back to the and started walking inside the morgue. Dean waited until you walked further and held Sam by the elbow, making the youngest look at him in confusion.

“Stop that” Dean whisper-yelled.

“Stop what” Sam whispered back.

“Whatever your eyes are doing, I’m gonna puke if you keep that up”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You stop it, you’re reading too much into it”

“Hey, you are the one that said she might be dangerous and, honestly, you are kind of a monsterfu-”

“Dean!” Sam pushed his shoulder to shut him up.

“C’mon you were hypnotized, maybe that’s what she does, or you are just in love” Dean shrugged his shoulders, holding back a grin. He loved making Sam mad.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Let’s go now or do you have any other stupid remarks?” Sam didn’t wait for an answer as he followed the direction you went in. Dean mocked his brother, mimicking Sam’s words to himself in a high pitched tone and went along.

You were already putting your gloves on when they came into the room, the dead bodies laying before you - or at least what was left of them. The lower part of the couple’s bodies was covered beneath the pale blue blankets and both torsos were exposed. It was an awful sight and, if you were about ten years younger, you would’ve puked. Everything was dilacerated, they were practically disfigured, their faces barely recognizable. Huge gashes adorned their bodies that even cleaned up still looked absolutely vile. Behind you, Dean hissed.

“Wow” He exclaimed.

“Yeah, very brutal, whoever did this wanted them to feel the pain” You said, snapping the latex gloves against your wrist and grabbing the file about the autopsy in your hands. You skimmed through the words and placed it back on the table where it previously was, turning back to the bodies to see Sam already looking through them, Dean putting on the blue gloves the mortuary offered. You approached Sam’s side and crossed your arms as you watched him work, his hands roaming through the deep rips on the skin, he seemed to come to the same conclusion you did. “It’s not a clean cut, see” You pointed out and he nodded, turning to you.

“Yeah, the skin is–”

“Ripped, not cut” You paused “How can someone do this and just…get on with their lives?” You thought out loud. You discreetly looked up to Sam’s face to see if he had any reaction to your words, to see if his face faltered when you mentioned how psychotic it would be to keep going after killing someone, to see something, anything…

His face was blank.

“You’d be shocked at what…people can do” Sam replied. He seemed to hesitate before saying ‘people’, a hard swallow, a thought behind his eyes and you marked that in your mind for later.

“Sam, I work in the FBI too you know, I’ve seen shit” Maybe you were harsh, maybe you were just defensive or maybe the years of being brought down by men in your field made you snap at his words when they weren’t that deep. He seemed to catch on to your aggressiveness and stumbled over his words to try and reword his phrase.

“No– I-I know it’s just– I mean–” He couldn’t get the words out. You softened at that, noticing your defensiveness was, in fact, exaggerated. You chuckled at him and waved your hand dismissively.

“I get what you meant” You said and he seemed to calm down, giving you a slight smile. Dimples. Again. You turned back to the bodies in front of you and reached for your pocket to get your notes. You started patting with your other hand for your pen through the other pockets and when you didn’t feel the distinctively cylindrical shape of the object you started to freak out. Where’d I leave it…

Sam noticed your squirming and when he saw the notebook in your hand he knew exactly what you were looking for. He held back a chuckle as he watched you try your hardest to remember where the pen was, the concentration in your eyes almost touchable.

“Hey” Sam called and you turned your head to him. He reached his hand up, close to your cheek and you could sense the heat radiating from his body. You froze in place as you thought that you were caught, that Sam’s intelligence overpowered yours and he figured out that you knew who he was. Well, you were wrong. Sam caught the pen you had put behind your ear between his fingers and slid it off of it, watching as your hair fell back into place. You wanted to bury yourself whole inside the ground as you felt heat spread through your face. “Here” He said, with a cheeky smile.

You took the pen out of his hand, your fingers brushing lightly against each other “Thanks” You mumbled. You started writing away what you figured from the autopsy but you couldn’t get your mind off of how close Sam had gotten. The warmth that he emitted was captivating, comforting even. How could you even think that? You were a professional, what the hell! You shouldn’t be feeling this way, you had a job to do, lives to save. Sam was a killer, you put killers in jail. That’s it.

“Okay so…” Dean spoke up, breaking your embarrassment “...We can discard any murder with weapons like guns or knives, those can’t do…this” He made a face and pointed towards the wounds. You nodded in agreement as you wrote it down. When you looked up at them again they were sharing a look, having a full conversation without even speaking. You weren’t a professional in facial expressions but you could read the room, you were being kept in the dark about something. You decided against confronting them, unneeded drama in the current settings because, indeed, the longer you took to solve this case, the closer the killer was to killing other people.

“So, I have no idea if you already did but I didn’t look further in the room where the murder happened. I think I’m going to go back to the house and see if the local cops missed anything” You said, not waiting for an answer as you pocketed your notebook again and started taking off your gloves. You didn’t request their company as you were, first, still trying to figure out why they were so adamant about solving this case, second, you had to figure this murder out, and third, you needed to find a perfect moment to confront both of them. “See you around agents”

“See ya” Dean waved at you as you walked away, Sam didn’t say anything. You knew they were going to follow you, you felt their silent conversations lingering in the air as you left the room, discarding your gloves. In your head you could see them communicating with lifting eyebrows and shrugging shoulders – they were so obvious; and predictable.

–

“We are going after her” Sam said to Dean after he heard you leave. Dean nodded as he started taking off his own gloves, side eyeing his brother. Dean wasn’t stupid – he only acted like it – he knew that there was more than one reason for Sam’s eagerness to follow you.

“So…” He started and Sam knew there was something he might not like hearing coming. “Are you going to play the brave soldier saving the damsel in distress?”

Sam stopped and looked at Dean, absolute confusion adorning his features. “What?”

“Man c’mon, you can’t be thinking that she is the monster now can you? Look, I did the tests while you were…pining over her” Sam opened his mouth to argue but Dean didn’t let him speak. “There was holy water in her drink at the diner, the utensils she was using were pure silver…”

Sam was shocked that his brother thought that quickly, he didn’t even notice…Okay, maybe he was infatuated by you a little too much.

“She could be a ghoul,” Sam argued as a last resort.

“Already looked her up, no one that has that beautiful face has died around here. I’ve looked through the FBI database too, she’s there” Dean said. Sam would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the tiniest bit of relief knowing that you were really human. You were, in fact, beautiful, stunning even. Maybe Dean was right, maybe he did like you, a lot.

“Guess I owe you that six pack then” Sam said.

“Hey, I get the six pack, you get the girl, seems like a fair trade” Dean said, raising his eyebrows tauntingly with a cheeky smile on his face. Sam chuckled and shook his head.

“Either way, we have to go after her because if this ghost decides she’s next on its list, we need to get there before she gets hurt” Sam said in all seriousness as he started walking out of the room, going towards the exit. Dean followed suit, the Impala keys already on his hand.

–

They arrived at the house a minute or two after you. You were waiting in the house’s living room as you heard the rumbling of the old car’s engine. You had your weapon ready and loaded as you heard them open and close the door of the house. As soon as they turned the corner, you lifted your gun.

“Stay right fucking there! Don’t you dare move or else I’ll actually kill you, for good this time!” You screamed at them, gun in hand pointed towards Dean’s head. They widened their eyes and stopped all their movement. Sam opened his mouth to try and talk and you shifted the gun to point at him instead. He shut his mouth again and you saw his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. You were fuming, anger making your hands shake lightly.

“Did you really think you were going to fool me? Who do you think you are– Better, who do you think I am?” They stood as still as a rock. “Sam and Dean Winchester” You said their names, venom running through your tongue as you did, your gun pointing respectively at each. “You better start talking or I’m popping your heads off, speak!”

“Okay, okay, look we can explain” Sam started.

“You fucking better”

“We are not dead” He said and you looked at him like he was stupid. “Me and my brother we faked our deaths but we had a reason, a much bigger reason”

“You killed people”

“We didn’t, at least not intentionally, we do the exact opposite, we save people Y/N”

“How? The deaths are there, if you are telling me the truth and really save people you do a terrible job at that” You countered. You admitted you only said this to get under their skin because if anyone knew that saving everyone was impossible was you, a federal agent.

“Put the gun down and we can talk” Dean spoke up, talking to you calmly and moving his hands slowly to try and reason with you. You were reluctant but something in their eyes, their actions towards you didn’t indicate any imminent danger. Maybe you were being stupid and, at the end, you’d be lying in a ditch, lifeless, left there to rot but you wanted to give them a chance.

“If you try anything funny I’ll claw your eyes out with my bare hands” You said and Dean, even shocked, nodded slowly – you were exaggerating but you felt the need to. You sighed and put your gun back in the waistband of your pants and saw the boys breathe in a deep breath of relief.

Sam and Dean exchanged those looks again and finally looked at you. Sam was the one you wanted to talk to, you felt deep, deep down that he was going to tell you the truth and that he was actually a good guy, that all that he did until now wasn’t just an act and he was really nice.

“Me and Dean we…We hunt monsters”

Well, now your hopes are shattered. What the fuck.

You just looked at him like he was clinically insane and waited for him to continue.

“I know it sounds crazy” Because it is “And it probably is but it’s the truth, we don’t think whatever killed that couple was a human, this is why there’s no DNA, not a single clue and why the case is hard. I assume you were assigned it because you are smart and a good agent but this is not your kind of case”

“It’s ours” Dean added and Sam agreed with a nod.

You were dumbfounded. They sounded so serious as they explained to you about the tons of different supernatural beings that existed, things you only ever heard of in fictional books and horror movies. Halfway through the talk you looked physically sick, your face pale and eyes dissociated completely and Sam quickly got a chair, ushering you to sit down. He was looking at you with such a guilty expression, like he felt bad for lying to you.

Once they stopped talking you spent a good five minutes absorbing it all as you stared at your hands folded over your lap. You thought you knew things, you thought you could solve everything, that all you needed to do was analyze everything to its minute details and you’d find a solution. Truth is, you were completely oblivious all this long, so many things that you had no idea existed causing trouble around the world, things worse than humans could ever be. You were an idiot.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Sam asked after a while, making you look up at him. “I know it’s a lot to process…” He said, carefully laying a hand over your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you.

“I’m going to be fine” You said harshly. Sam felt the slight disappointment in your voice and frowned as he looked down at you. He had seen tons of different reactions to ‘the talk’ but this one was one of the worst, where the person feels upset with themselves for not knowing about this sooner, the kind of reaction he saw mostly on authority figures such as cops and federal agents like yourself.

You stood up and his hand fell from your shoulder. You needed to make this right, paranormal or not, this was still your case and you were solving it one way or another.

“Show me how you do it” You said, turning to look at Sam. The phrase got Dean’s attention as well as a sudden tension fell upon the room. Sam looked at you with confusion “This case is still mine, I want to learn how to get rid of…whatever killed that couple”

Sam exchanged looks with his brother. “I don’t think this is a good idea Y/N, you can get hurt” He said. You rolled your eyes and stepped closer to him, less than a foot between the two of you.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m a federal agent, you don’t get to tell me I’m going to get hurt when I literally hunt and kill people if needed” You said angrily pointing your finger at him accusingly “Your little Ghostbusters roleplay doesn’t scare me”

“Okay, can you two stop? Let’s get out of here and go study about the house to see if we find anything about someone who died here who might want revenge” Dean said, approaching and looking between the two of you. “Please”

–

After spending two hours in the nearby library you finally found something. The one responsible for the killings was someone named Alicia Meadows who died in the late 60s, not little kids – it seemed like even the own urban legend the locals passed around was wrong. She was a woman who lived in that house with her husband and kids. One night she found her husband in their bed with another woman and went crazy, killing them both with a shotgun and then shooting herself. Ever since then she’d been killing couples who stayed there, the trauma of the cheating made her assume that everyone who laid in that bed on the same date, every two years, she found her husband and his mistress was also having an affair.

You three soon found out where she was buried and, after the brothers explained to you and made you swear not to arrest them for grave violation, you were driving to the cemetery.

As Dean was digging up the casket you stood beside Sam. “Do you guys do this everyday?”

Sam looked at you with a smile. “No, sometimes we behead vampires too”

You looked at him wide eyed and chuckled. He laughed with you, his face looking ten times more beautiful under the moonlight and the fucking dimples, the damn dimples. Silence fell between you as the sounds of the night – and Dean’s digging – took over. You wanted to talk more, you wanted to know more about Sam because the little you thought you knew was actually a lie. He was nice and, according to the FBI files…

“You went to law school?” You asked him. He sighed. Well damn Y/N so much for breaking the ice, good job. 

“I did but…I went back to hunting soon after, you can’t run from this type of job you know?” He chuckled dryly. It was clear that was a sensitive subject for him to talk about.

“If it helps, you would’ve made a good lawyer” You smiled at him. “Besides, you look great in a suit”

He seemed stunned for a few seconds, were you flirting with him? He didn’t get to figure out because Dean made a dramatic pained sound as he straightened his back, breaking the casket open. The putrid smell of death rose and you scrunch your nose. Sam helped Dean get out of the hole and started showering the bones in alcohol and salt and you watched as Dean threw his lighter in making huge flames rise up. You jumped when it happened out of shock and Sam held your shoulders so you wouldn’t fall back, the flames roared loudly with what seemed to be the anger of the woman.

Dean started gathering their stuff and you turned to Sam. “So, is this it?”

“Yeah…pretty simple actually” Sam shrugged. He looked at the fire and you could see the flames dancing in his eyes. You found Sam handsome ever since you laid your eyes on him but now, after a whole day by his side, the light touches you shared throughout the day and the care he showed towards you you wondered if it’d be too bad if you kissed him right now.

“Sam” You called him lowly and he turned to you. You stepped closer and you could see his hands clenching and unclenching by his side, as if he was holding back the urge to touch you. Your faces were inches apart and you could now see every little detail about him. The light stubble that adorned his face and the blush of red in his cheeks that you didn’t know if it was because of the heat of the fire or because you were this close.

You smiled at him and in that moment Sam couldn’t hold himself back. He closed the distance between the two of you as one of his hands cradled your cheek and the other was gently placed on your waist.

You let one of your hands place itself on his neck as you reciprocated the kiss. It was electric and warm, his soft lips over yours felt like a sweetness you didn’t know you were craving to taste. Your heart was beating fast and Sam slowly dragged your body closer to his with the help of the hand he placed on your waist.

When you pulled away you slowly opened your eyes to look straight into his and let out a stupid giggle – like a teenager after kissing her crush. Sam chuckled back as his thumb caressed your cheek lovingly.

“I've wanted to do this ever since the diner” He admitted and you bit back a smile.

“Really?” You asked.

“Really”

The moment was interrupted when Dean honked the Impala, impatiently waiting for you two to finish whatever you were doing so he could go back to the room and finally sleep. Sam showed him the finger as Dean yelled a curse back making you laugh at their stupid teasing.

“Let’s go Sam, Dean’s impatient. We can finish our talk at the motel” You said, your words full of innuendo making Sam turn back to you. You knew you got him when you felt his hand squeeze your waist for a moment before letting go.

“Oh yeah?” He said with a grin, looking down at your mouth and back at your eyes. You nodded.

“Yeah”

A/N: Likes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading XoXo

[laflechebrisee]

Extract from an Autosprint article in which Pietro, Didier's chief mechanic, is interviewed.

"Despite what someone might believe, after Gilles' death Didier Pironi was never the same. Someone might think that the frenchman was now cinically calm and happy, since he had gotten rid of his sworn enemy, and could now win the world championship easily. But no. No, no, no! He didn't talk to me, but I was still his chief mechanic and I could see and understand things better than anyone. After Zolder's disgrace, Didier was never the same. He suffered, he was depressed, and I'm sure of what I am saying, he was deeply saddened with how things had ended with Gilles, in such a terrible and definitive way. Yeah, I think Didier was feeling guilty, because he behaved in a very strange, peculiar, excessive way, as if he wanted to think about something else, as if he wanted to drown his troubles, forget about all the horror that had happened. No one knows that Zandvoort 1982 is a victory without smiles. Didier wins, but does not smile, does not laugh, because something inside him has broken, maybe forever. He had a new mistress, it was like he didn't want to think, he didn’t even seem enthusiastic about the championship victory that was coming. Yes, the Holland GP is a good thing... but only for you. For those who secretly see what's happening in Ferrari, it shows a specific state of mind of Didier: cold, sad, melancholic. So I think these things should be known now, because they will end in a dramatic epilogue at Hockenheim, which is an event that is like a child of Zandvoort. The day of the crash in Germany, Didier arrives at the circuit half an hour late. Something serious, unacceptable. He has a long, scruffy beard, a distant look. He comes in company of two girls with whom no one thinks he had been discussing the weather forecasts with... so, Forghieri understandably is upset with him. It rains, it's not even worth going on track, but the situation is such that Mauro wants Didier to wake up and go back on track, because it seems that his mind is somewhere else. The rest is history."

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

Headcanon Kate gives the 141 kisses and then immediately bites them to show affection like a cat

HOW DO YOU KNOW I'VE BEEN DEEP IN BITING 141 HEADCANONS

It's a love bite!! She just gets so excited by physical affection she has to nom a little. It's fine. Don't worry about it.

Price and Ghost DO NOT make it easy for her. Ghost, obviously, covering his face a lot, but Price has a beard! She can't nip at his cheek or chin, she just gets a mouthful of beard, that's unacceptable. Sometimes she bites his nose. He's smart, though, can tell when she's bitey, knows to pull away so she can't nab him. So she resorts to biting the back of his hand. He has to shave for some reason and after the first round of novelty wears off (babyface Price?!!?!) new novelty appears because NEW BITING SURFACE!!

Kate tried to bite Ghost's hard shell mask once and hated it. He covers up a lot so she can't ever shrug it off like "oh oops i didn't mean to" she literally has to ruck up a sleeve or tug his collar down. this gives him enough time to plan a RETALIATION BITE.

Not nippy ones like she does, either. Full on chomps. His reasoning is "if I have my teeth in you then i know you are not going off somewhere doing something STUPID" Kate is offended by the implication she does stupid things. rude. This does NOTHING btw to make anyone else on base less intimidated by Ghost. rumors circulate about how he bites hard enough to draw blood and that's with someone he kind of likes! (this did happen, thankfully it was not in public because they were both very kind of into it)

feral bastard man Soap adores the love bites. to the point where if he's feeling down, he'll ask for it because it's a nice little dopamine rush. When the ADHD starts ADHDing he will either bite or ask to be bitten. it works, so nobody questions it. Soap is actually more likely to break skin because he's got sharp chompers. Kate likes to bite the top of his ear. Will use the mohawk to drag his head down if she needs to

Gaz gets nibbles. comparatively gentle bites. the guys are talking about their various Kate Bite Bruises Etc and Gaz is like??? wtf are you on about??? Sure there's a bit of a sting sometimes but she kisses it away. Price makes a comment about maybe she bites harder to match the biting the guys do to her (he is correct for the most part). And Gaz is like. you HEATHENS. why are you BITING HER BACK?

This devolves into a very long (slightly horny) discussion of biting as affection, etc. as well as some brief spirals into "why isn't she biting me harder/softer???" (there's a slight chance that Kate comes by Price's office while this is the hot topic in the guys' group chat and Price relays the entire conversation to her, no this is NOT an invitation to bite me right now Katherine!!!! [Price is the only one who can call her Katherine and he's only done it twice])

Anyway Gaz gets Nice Bites until he has a close call, which prompts a very dramatic kiss from Kate followed by a very mean bite to his neck that bruises almost instantly. Gaz is like great! i now see i was not missing out on anything. let's go back to the nice bites please. (he will get nice bites when he stops doing stupid shit, and Gaz thinks that's a bit rich coming from the queen of stupid shit herself, which earns him another, if slightly nicer, bite)

One of them has the top of his ear nicked from an arrow. Not Ghost, his ears are covered, but at least ONE of the others. I'm pretty sure it's Soap but it could be Gaz. that doesn't have anything to do with biting but is important for us all to know.

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Grey 57

First / Previous / Next

Fen sat in her throne on Venus with her hands on her chin and sighed.

This wasn't that throne on the Reach that would allow her to use her Builder Nanites to reach out and communicate, this was just a regular fancy chair. It was wood with a fabric pad and a tall back and was exceedingly uncomfortable.

In front of her, a minister was droning on about the repair works at the shipyard. It was moving along at a quick pace, things were going well, minimal injuries, few terrorist events, et cetera et cetera.

"Wait." Fen perked up. "What do you mean by "few terrorist events" why are there any at all and why was I not informed?"

"Empress, there is always some terrorist events at any imperial construction project, it is inevitable. I did not want to bore you with minutiae, so I did not think it warranted more than a passing mention." The minister - an overweight man with a razor sharp beard - bowed slightly.

"Do people die in these terrorist events?" Fen leaned forward, trying to get a reading on the minister. Her heightened ability to read body language told her that he was bored, unconcerned, and a little confused about this line of questioning.

"Sometimes Empress, sometimes. Not often and not many. This most latest attack was an attempt at sabotage with the main spars of the primary rack of the spacedock. I believe only a few people died."

"This is unacceptable!" Fen said, standing. "People are killing our citizens and it's "minutiae" not worth my time? How long has this been going on?"

"For centuries, Empress. Since the founding of the Empire at least, if not sooner. I don't see the problem?" The minister looked more worried now, but was still confused. Why was this an issue, it always happened.

"Who are these terrorists? What are their demands?"

"Oh, I don't know Empress, some kind of separatist or anti Imperial group or somesuch. They leave demands and manifestos, but they're usually just scanned for fingerprints and destroyed."

"They're destroyed?" Fen roared. The minister flinched at her outburst. Fen saw his reaction and looked down her nose at him, smiling. She had come up with a solution to this. Two birds, one stone. "Worry not, minister, for I have a solution. You are hereby promoted."

"P-promoted?" He took a step back unconsciously "E-Empress, you are much too generous, I simply could not-"

S̴͔̓i̷̱̕l̸̽ͅe̴̗̅n̷̓ͅc̵̗̊e̵̥̿

His mouth slammed shut.

"You are being promoted to chief investigator into terrorist action against the Empire. You shall have a generous budget and as much staff as you require. You are charged with discovering the nature of the terrorist threats to me and the Empire and delivering monthly reports on their demands, their actions, and their movements."

He looked like he was trying to speak, but since she Voiced him into silence, all he could do was shake slightly and sweat.

S̷̽ͅp̷̪̿͘ͅḙ̸͊̏ͅȁ̶̫̙̺̈k̵̰͉͉̔̈́

His mouth opened and he started gasping slightly. "E-Empress, I do not know the first thing on how-"

"You had better learn then. I expect my first report in a month. Failure will not be tolerated." Fen sat back down and stared at him, her features stony. "You are dismissed." She broke eye contact and picked up a pad next to her throne and started scrolling. The minister stood there another half minute, seemingly frozen in place. Fen looked up at him and gestured with her right hand, waving him off. "Go on, shoo."

One of the guards walked up to him and placed his hand on the minister's shoulder, not unkindly. That seemed to snap him out of whatever was rooting him to the floor and turned around and walked out, his shoulders drooping.

After he left and the doors were shut, Fen stood and pushed her hands against her sides, stretching. "I hate that thing. It always makes my butt fall asleep." She looked over at her new assistant, Penny. "Do I have to sit here any more and listen to people talk at me?"

She looked down at her own pad a moment. "No Empress, he was your last reporter."

Fen sighed. "I told you Penny, when it's just us you can call me Fen."

"Yes, Empress." But she was smiling when she said it.

Fen rolled her eyes dramatically and laughed as Penny and Fen left the Throne room and went back to her official chambers. It housed her office, her bed and living space, as well as an official library and other things she might need. As soon as Fen walked in, she shrugged out of her Imperial uniform jacket and tossed it towards the hook by the door. Penny grabbed it just as it was about to miss the hook and placed it there carefully, smoothing it gently. She smiled to herself and continued into the room.

By the time she had made it to Fen's bedroom, she had changed into a loose soft shirt and some flannel pants. She had flung herself onto her gigantic bed and was leaning up against her mountain of pillows and looking very comfortable. "Empress - Fen - do you need anything else?"

Fen looked up. "Officially no. Thank you, Penny."

Penny closed her pad and placed it carefully on a table near the door. She walked towards the bed, unbuttoning her own uniform. "What about unofficially, Fen?"

Fen watched as Penny approached, undressing. "Since you're asking..." she said slyly.

After, Penny sat up in the bed, among the tousled sheets and pillows. Fen laid on her chest, and she stroked the Empress' hair, twisting it up in her fingers and letting it run though, scratching her scalp as she did so. "What's wrong Fen? You seem so tense. You're usually a puddle of goo after."

Fen sighed. "I know Penny, and it's not that I don't like it. I like you and I like us. You're the first person that I've really felt... comfortable with... attracted to since..."

"Since your wife died, I know Fen. You don't have to worry about hurting my feelings. People love in all kinds of ways. I know Ma-Ren will be with you forever." She started rubbing Fen's back with her palm, in large, sweeping circles.

Fen sighed deeply and yawned. "It's just... I wish I wasn't Empress. Things would be easier, simpler. I could have just had a ship, been a merc, made a living seeing the Galaxy. Instead I have to stay on Venus, be talked at by the most boring people alive." Penny laughed. "And fill out paperwork and read reports and manage things. It's... not what I wanted or expected to have happen in my life. It's lightyears away from being a kid on a Gren station, ducking station security because some Gren badmouthed my wife in a bar."

"Look at it this way, Fen." Penny said, switching from her palms to her knuckles, trying to knead the knots out of her shoulders. "If you weren't Empress, if you hadn't come to Sol, if you didn't have to do all that paperwork and attend all those meetings and read all those reports, you wouldn't have needed an assistant, and we would have never met."

Fen moaned slightly as the pressure increased on her tight muscles. "That's true. If I hadn't been forced to be Empress, I would never have learned how divine it is to get a massage like this."

"See? Bright side." She leaned over and kissed Fen. She grabbed her and threw her on her back on the bed as Fen shrieked and laughed. "Now then, I think we have rested enough."

This time, they showered and got dressed after. Penny went into the kitchen to find something for them to eat, and Fen grabbed their pads and followed. Fen sat at the table while Penny bustled, cooking something. "I know. I could just call down and we could have anything we want sent up, but I want to cook for you." She said, as she was bringing out boxes and containers of food.

"Sure thing." Fen said, as she flipped open her pad, and scanned the notifications. One caught her eye. She opened it and read it. Then scrolled to the beginning and read it again. "Penny." Fen said, standing. "Food will have to wait. We have to get our uniforms on."

"What? Why?" Penny walked over to the table as Fen spun her pad around to show her the notification. It was from Gord, the leader of the AIs. "Shit." She said and went to go turn the stove off.

****

Gord sat next to Zhe as she shivered on the loading dock wrapped in a blanket. She was sitting on the deck, next to an escape pod that was badly damaged. In the atmosphere of the dock, Gord could smell the burnt hull. It had a sharp, acrid smell, with a metallic tang. It was an unpleasant sense memory for him. He knew the smell well throughout his life. Parts of the pod had large chunks taken out of it, and there were more than a few splashes of metal where slugs had found their target. Luckily it was a human made escape pod, and an old one at that, so it had been designed to take a hit or two.

"Zhe, how did you link to Sol? Pods usually only have enough juice for one or two links, and if this is Northern's then the default address would have been Parvati."

Zhe nodded, her ears flat against her head. "I don't know how to address wormhole generators, but I had guessed the same thing. Since Northern had said they were going to declare independence, I didn't particularly want to link to Parvati, the probably would have never let me leave."

Gord nodded. "That would have been the best outcome, yes. But, that doesn't explain how you managed to blind-link to Sol, let alone doing it while Northern is shooting at you! It's supposed to be impossible."

"Not impossible." Chloe said, stepping out of the pod. "Just very very unlikely." She looked down at Zhe and to Gord's amazement, smiled. Chloe had been almost completely unemotional since her rebuilding. At first it worried Gord - maybe he'd done something wrong - but realized later that was just how she was. Even before she didn't emote strongly. "Tell him how you did it, Zhe. It's really quite smart."

Zhe looked up at Gord. Chloe's praise had galvanized her slightly. "Well, I didn't know the address, but I knew humans. I was on a human designed craft trying to get to the human's original system. Since they also invented the coordinate system for the wormhole generator, I assumed that Humans would have made their system the center of the universe, so I set the coordinates to all zeroes."

Gord's eyes go wide, and he starts laughing. "That's amazing Zhe, and very insightful. You really do know a lot about humans." He chuckled again. "Setting it to all zeroes to go back to Sol, I love it!" He stood. "Fen is on her way, Zhe. I sent a message saying that we found you and she replied almost immediately. She'll be here in a couple hours."

Zhe stopped shivering and looked up at Gord. "She's coming?"

He nodded. "From what I understand she commandeered the closest Imperial ship that was ready to fly, didn't even wait for her runabout to be warmed up."

Zhe stood. Blanket wrapped like a cape she turned towards Gord. "Can I take a shower before she gets here? I'm a mess."

[clown-paws]

> happy brian time :D just wanted to experiment with his metal plating and where it connects.

> hc stuff: i realised that because he's metal, he wouldnt blush (unacceptable) so i came up with the design hc that he has LEDs on his cheek plates that light up, either when he's awake or when his body heats up. he also just makes me think of lions when i see him lol, and wanted to give him a feline type of nose?and of course, copper wire hair, though its not obvious. i like him normal amount i swear i promise guys.

> id below and in alt text-

[Image Description: A digital painting of Drumbot Brian from The Mechanisms. It is a bust painting at a 3/4 angle to the left. He is smiling, top teeth showing, and looking off to the side. Brian's metal is a light orange, and a more saturated orange at the tip of his nose. His metal plating is connected around his face, ear and neck, which leads down to his partially exposed chest plating, with red L.E.D.s lining his cheek to imitate blush. His face has small bolts on the metal, and his neck has slightly larger ones. One of his teeth is more gold than the others. He has a fiery ginger beard, and mustache and long, curly hair of the same colour. He is wearing his black top hat, with gold goggles and a rose sitting on it's brim. The goggles strap is black, and the glass is cracked in both goggles. The collar of his white shirt is visible, but noting more. He is wearing a gold bolt shaped earring. The background is a grey-tinted purple.

End ID.]

[chaosbarelycontained]

I Am The Resurrection

North Country Boy Chapter 1

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x AFAB!OC

TW: swearing

Words: 2.9k

Synopsis: Jules is given a choice and finds out that someone from her past whom she thought was dead is actually very much alive.

Jules sat towards the back of the room as Captain Green debriefed his squad on their latest successful deployment. She picked at the skin around her thumbnail as she tried to ignore the rising tide of nausea in her belly. She was in the shit. Ignoring a direct order, no matter the outcome, was unacceptable and she’d had to take out three hostiles in the process. Sure she’d managed to get her hands on the key locations they’d needed but now she was drowning in paperwork and had the dark cloud of a disciplinary hearing hanging over her head.

A slight creak of the door to her left grabbed her attention and her eyes were drawn to the tall male figure that slipped through and leaned against the wall. He folded his arms across his chest and seemed to be listening intently to whatever the Captain had to say. Jules resumed her picking, hissing out a quiet curse as a bead of blood welled up against her cuticle, and she stuck her thumb in her mouth. Something registered in her brain then, much slower than it usually would have, and she cast another surreptitious look over to the stranger. Beard. He had a beard. Only Pioneer Sergeants were allowed to wear a beard and she could see from his uniform that he wasn’t one of those. His stripes told her he was a Captain. Special Forces then. Had to be covert ops. Why was…oh shit.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught him looking over at her and, for Juliette, it was enough confirmation. He must be part of the disciplinary committee. If they’d brought in another Special Forces Captain for her hearing then she was well and truly fucked. Her stomach rolled and saliva welled in her mouth as Green moved into his closing remarks. She barely heard his dismissal over the thoughts that were running rampant through her brain but the movement of her squad as they began to vacate the room brought her back down to Earth. She stood from her chair and then turned to leave but Green’s voice cracked out across the room.

“Kelsall, a word?”

Jules froze for a second and tried not to let her shoulders droop as she made her way to the front of the room. A few of her squad mates gave her sympathetic looks and Boothroyd even patted her on the shoulder. Plastering a bland mask onto her face she stood at ease before her Captain, trying to project the very image of military perfection. I’m sorry Robbie, she offered in silent prayer to her brother as the unfamiliar Captain stepped up to stand next to Green.

They waited in uncomfortable silence until the room had emptied. Jules resisted the urge to squirm under the heavy scrutiny of her senior officers. She was no rookie and she’d not crumble like one.

“Sergeant Kelsall, this is Captain Price,” Green said, inclining his head toward the stranger.

“Pleasure to meet you, Sir,” she saluted with as much formality as she could muster.

“Kelsall,” Price nodded, his arms still folded.

“Look, Jules,” Green began, trying to make her feel comfortable. “We’ve been in the same squad for a long time now and I’ve never once ever questioned your judgement. Even now.”

Jules sighed and lowered her gaze. She knew which way this speech would go. She and Green had a good working relationship that had started way back even before they’d joined the Special Reconnaissance Regiment but she guessed that even he didn't have the authority to get her out of the hole this time. She wondered for a moment where she’d actually go, she was pretty short on options, but the unfamiliar voice of Captain Price drew her back to the conversation.

“You’ve been noticed, Sergeant,” he stated in a clipped tone.

“I don’t quite know how to take that remark, Sir,” Jules admitted, trying to maintain her posture.

Green sighed and ran his hand through his short salt-and-pepper hair before dragging it down over his chin.

“I’m going to put it plainly, Jules, out of respect for our friendship. You’re going to face disciplinary action for your conduct on the last mission…”

“Or?” she interrupted, sensing the direction the conversation was going.

“Or we take a walk and you listen to what I’ve got to say,” Price interjected, tilting his head slightly.

Her eyes darted between the two Captains but she managed to keep the rising tide of panic off her face. A second passed, and then a few more, all of them weighed by a heavy silence.

”Shall we, Sir?” she said finally, turning to face Price.

“After you,” he gestured towards the door.

With one last look at Captain Green’s tight-lipped face she led Captain Price out of the room and into the corridor beyond.

“I’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions,” he said quietly, mindful of their public location.

“Not as many as you’d think,” Jules replied, following alongside the Captain as he led them confidently through the maze of corridors and walkways.

He finally came to a halt in front of an unlabelled door that opened up into a cramped, nondescript office. Price made his way behind the desk and reached for the top drawer, surprising Jules by actually removing it completely. On the back of the drawer there was a small rectangular object fastened there by metallic duct tape. Price worried at the corner of the tape with his fingernail, loosening it enough for him to be able to peel it back and retrieve the object. He held it out to Jules, his eyebrow raised, and she took it from him. It was a data drive.

“Everything you need to know is on there. It can’t be copied, well, you probably could but I’d prefer it if you didn’t. You’ve got four hours from when you plug it in to read it before it wipes itself.

“OK, but what’s this all about?” Jules asked, still confused, although she curled her fingers around the drive and drew it back towards herself.

“You’ve got skills, Kelsall,” he rumbled, “but more importantly, you’ve got an attitude. You get the job done regardless and that’s that sort of thing we’re looking for.”

He huffed out a laugh and shook his head at Jules’ bemused expression.

“Just read it. If you’re in, pack your kit and I’ll see you on the airstrip at 1600 hours, if not…well, this conversation never happened.”

“Understood, Sir,” she said, but already sounded distracted as she turned the drive over and over in her fingers.

“Alright then,” he nodded, moving towards the door but then paused, tapping two fingers onto the monitor of the desktop computer in front of her. “Use this one. It’s not connected to the network.”

With those last words he left Jules in the office, closing the door quietly behind him. Jules took his place behind the desk and sat in the old wooden chair that had been left there. It gave an ominous crack as she leaned over to turn on the pc but it remained uncomfortably stable. The screen flickered to life, opening in bios, and Jules plugged the data drive into the usb slot on the pc before typing in the commands to run the drive.

It contained nothing more than a single unnamed document. She took a breath and opened it, curiosity thrumming through her veins. Task Force 141. The overview was short, revealing not much more than a veiled reference to various Special and Black Ops but it was enough to draw Jules in. She scrolled further to find a squad list, with Price’s name at the top. There were no photos, just names, ranks and former affiliations. Price and a few others were former SAS. Makes sense, she thought but when she got to the third name on the list her heart skipped a beat and her hand stilled on the keyboard.

Jules stared at the document on the screen, as if she could make a photograph appear by sheer force of will. She shook her head in disbelief. It couldn’t be the same person, surely. Pushing the thought to the back of her mind she scrolled through the rest of the short list of names. There were Americans, Russians, a couple of Australians, and the unusual mix fuelled Jules’ intrigue even more.

As the clock ticked around to 1600 hours, Jules found herself standing before the doors that led out to the airstrip. She smoothed her hands over her maroon Duke of Lancaster belt and adjusted the fit of the grey SRR beret that she’d been so proud to receive. Hoisting her kit bag onto her shoulder she marched out onto the airstrip towards the distinctive figure of Captain Price, who stood with arms folded before an A109SP helicopter that was readying for takeoff.

“Hoped you’d make an appearance,” Price said gruffly, raising his voice a little over the noise of the aircraft.

“Join a task force that doesn’t exist or face a disciplinary, not really much of a choice there, Sir,” she scoffed, turning to face him.

He looked down at her with a smirk before turning toward her and holding out his hand. She looked down at it and then back up at him before grasping his hand in hers and shaking it.

“Not many get the option.”

Jules followed Price onto the aircraft, stowed her bag under her seat, and fastened herself in. She removed her beret, rolled it up to put in her pocket, and then put on the headset and mic so she could communicate with Price and the pilot. The noise of the engine and the blades grew even louder and her stomach lurched as the helicopter rose into the air and headed off on an almost southerly trajectory.

“Should be about 45 minutes,” the pilot informed them after she had completed her obligatory checks.

“Cheers Ross,” Price said and then turned his attention back to Jules.

She shrank a little under his intense gaze and she struggled to read his expression under the beard he wore. A sick knot of regret began to build in her throat but she swallowed it down and met his stare.

“Can I ask where we’re going?” she croaked, but the mic carried her strained voice straight to the Captain’s ears.

“Stirling Lines,” he offered and Jules nodded despite her surprise.

The base in Herefordshire was the headquarters for all the Special Forces regiments including the SRR, but Jules hadn’t really expected it to be the home of a secret task force. She’d been based in Preston for the last three years and had been hopping around the globe for longer than that. She’d not actually spent that much time on Stirling Lines beyond her initial SRR recruitment and training.

“Will I get a chance to get the rest of my stuff, Sir?” she asked, having not been able to fit all of her belongings into a single kit bag.

“It’s being packed as we speak. Should be delivered tomorrow.”

“You were so sure I’d say yes?”

“90%” Price said, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

“And the other 10%?” Jules probed.

“That you and Green were having an affair and you wouldn’t want to leave him.”

“What?!” Jules spluttered, her jaw almost hitting her chest.

“It was the only other reason I could think of as to why he spoke so highly of you. I see from your reaction that’s not the case so you’d better live up to your reputation, Kelsall.”

“Are you serio…you’re takin’ the piss aren’t you, Sir?” Jules said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously and Price let out a hearty laugh.

“You’d better get used to it. Welcome to the 141, Sergeant.”

After landing at the barracks, Price guided Jules onto a small jeep before climbing into the driver’s seat. He pulled away from the helipad and took them on a short journey down a small side road that Jules had never used before. It led them around the back of the billets to a smaller building that Jules hadn’t seen in her time stationed there. It was close enough to the other accommodation buildings to still be a part of them but far enough away to give some extra sense of privacy. Price pulled up next to a couple of other vehicles and cut the engine, exiting the cab with the same economy of movement as he did everything else. Twitching his head in the direction of the entrance he stalked off, expecting Jules to follow him.

The interior was no different to any other billet she’d stayed in, with linoleum floors and bland-coloured paint on the walls.

“Mess hall’s down the back there, rooms are on the first floor. You’re in 3B,” the Captain pointed towards a set of stairs. “You can dump your kit before we eat but first I’ll introduce you to everyone. They should be in the briefing room now, or they will be if they know what’s good for ‘em.”

Jules followed close behind as the Captain led her towards a room at the rear of the building opposite the mess hall he’d indicated earlier. As they got closer she could hear the familiar rhythm of raucous banter even though she couldn’t yet make out the words. Price opened the door and they passed through, a chorus of cheers rising up as the team took sight of their Captain.

“‘Bout bloody time,” one of them called out.

“Should be against regs to call a briefing this close to tea time!” another grumbled but they quietened down when Price turned to face them and ran a hand over his beard.

Dumping her kit bag on the floor near the door, Jules stood at ease against the wall and listened as Price addressed his team.

“The sooner you stop your whining, the quicker you’ll get to your scran, MacTavish,” Price warned but Jules could see the good-natured spark behind the Captain’s disdainful expression. “I wanted to introduce everyone to the newest member of the team.”

A few whoops and whistles sounded before a gesture from Price quieted them down again and began his introductions. Jules stayed steadfast under the scrutiny of the assembled soldiers as she plastered a pleasant half-smile on her face and hoped that the flush she felt rising on her chest would stop at the neck of her shirt and not turn her face into a beetroot. She nodded along to the cheerful welcomes from the room and her smile slowly turned from forced to genuine.

Movement from the doorway drew her attention away from the Captain’s address and she watched as a large figure entered the room, his face covered by a balaclava with a skull painted on it. She wasn’t phased. Special Forces were, by their nature, a strange lot. She should know, she’d been in the SRR for long enough.

“Finally,” Price huffed. “Where the hell have you been? You know what, never mind. I was just introducing the rest to the new recruit. Lieutenant, this is Sergeant Juliette…

“Kelsall,” the newcomer finished and Jules froze at the sound of his voice.

Something about it was so familiar and yet…

She stiffened as his chestnut eyes bored into her from beneath the cover of his mask and it was then that she was certain. Her chest filled with ice, her heart hardening as she stared back at him with cold eyes and her jaw tightly clenched.

“Yeah, that’s right. You know each other?” Price asked.

“Used to,” the soldier replied, folding his arms across his broad chest, his eyes still fixed on her.

“Though he was dead,” Jules shrugged as if she didn’t care, forcing herself to turn her attention back to Price.

“He is!” one of the other soldiers called out with a laugh as Price waved a disgruntled dismissal.

Chairs scraped as the 141 rose and left the briefing room for the mess in search of their tea. Jules managed to maintain her hold on her expressionless face, having to draw on every single ounce of her training as a cold rage began to form deep within her chest. The man before her wasn’t dead at all, and the implications of that rocked her to her core.

* * * * *

Juliette skidded into the kitchen, her feet sliding across the cheap linoleum. She came to a stop, beaming shyly at the lad who’d just let himself in.

“H-hi Simon,” she stammered, rocking on her heels a little as her face flushed red.

“Jules,” he nodded, leaning against the wall next to the back door. ‘You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm cool,” she replied, trying for nonchalance but failing miserably.

Her brother Rob entered the room, shrugging on his knock-off Sprayway jacket and rolled his eyes at her embarrassment.

“Alright mate, we off?” he said to Simon, who nodded and pushed off from the wall.

“Where’re you goin’?” Juliette asked, a not-so-subtle yearning note seeping into her voice.

“Out,” Rob grunted dismissively.

“Can I come?” she tried, but the hope that brewed in her eyes was dashed at her brother’s derisive snort.

He didn’t bother to reply and the two lads turned to go. Simon looked back and gave Juliette a tight but sympathetic smile.

“See ya, Jules,” he muttered as they went out of the house, leaving Juliette alone in the kitchen.

[legacygirlingreen]

June 1897 // Farmer Sebastian Sallow x Reader (part 14 ft NSFW)

Last part, master list found here

Warnings: SMUT, 7k plus words of smut, proceed with caution. Praise kink, size kink, slight restraint, mild degradation, hint of breeding - basically its RAUNCHY folks

word count: 10,500

I've never seen someone lit from within 

The end of her education had finally concluded. Sebastian had left his sister in the care of Ominis for a few days and accompanied her mother and siblings on the trip to France under the guise of helping her mother wrangle several small children, but truly he intended to see her commencement ceremony. He had cheered the loudest when she had received top marks for her year, finishing strong, before stepping back to allow her the proper diligence of saying goodbyes to her classmates of 7 years.

After the ceremony, they all had journeyed to her home magical hamlet in France, staying with old friends and showing Sebastian their old home. He in turn, brought her siblings and mother to the clearing he’d shown her months back, sharing the magical discovery with the family as her mother wept and thanked him once more. 

On the journey home they had continued to steal glances and share knowing smiles with one another amidst the crowded carriage ride over the English Channel. Her siblings had continued to pour over her, excited to see her back home, as the family had remained close over the years following her father’s passing. So as she held Lacey in her lap, the girl kept leaning over to help her tease Sebastian about the length of his hair, as he allowed both the young woman and her sister to muse his overgrown dark locks. 

“You lovely ladies have made your point on the unacceptable length of my hair” he said through a chuckle as Lacey triumphantly let out an exclamation with her older sister. Upon the completion of her teasing, she grew bored, leaving the young woman’s lap to go bother their mum instead, allowing for Sebastian to pull her into his side as his arm drifted over the back of the seat. 

“Between the two of us… how much of that was Lacey’s opinion and how much was that your gentle request I cut my hair?” Sebastian teased as he whispered into her ear, at a volume only loud enough for her to hear. 

Blushing brightly she smiled as she looked back at him, noticing her mum was distracted with Lacey and the boys. “I have no bearing on what opinions Lacey may hold…” she teased as he skeptically raised an eyebrow and she continued by saying “... however I don’t think getting a haircut is the worst idea I’ve heard.” As she said so, she couldn’t help but examine the way his dark hair had started to fall in waves, curling around his collar as it had been neglected since he’d come back to Feldcroft. While his hair still looked good, it was currently much longer than normal, and she preferred it shorter and neater around the collar. She had also noticed he’d started to leave his beard a bit more than previously. Keeping it at a nearly permanent stubble, she’d grown to like the way it looked on him, as she smiled remembering her request on her birthday months ago that he grow the beard when he decided to get rid of the mustache. 

“You look a tad flustered, care to share what's on your mind?” he once again teased and she violently shook her head, not wanting to further inflate the man’s overgrown ego. 

“Oh come now darling, humor me” he nearly begged and she rolled her eyes at him, looking back out the window as he chuckled. Leaning back he decided to table the discussion until they made it back home… 

_______________________________________

After arriving back in the hamlet, Sebastian allowed her to get settled in and reacclimated to Scotland as he continued to work and take care of Anne. The only difference to his routine being evening meals with her and Anne in the Sallow home, along with long unchaperoned walks - and stolen kisses - after dark. Never more than some passionate kissing or petting, he remained as much a gentleman as the woman would allow. However, he learned early on that she was quite frisky… and as time went on his patience wore thin. 

He did take Lacey and her battering to cut his hair, getting help from one of the older women in Feldcroft in order to avoid looking ridiculous. Still leaving it tousled on top, he was happy to find the back and sides once again much more suitable to fieldwork. Even he could admit it was getting unmanageable and he intended to surprise her with the change that evening, since upon their arrival he had driven the admission out of her, discovering she preferred him with shorter hair. 

She had gone to Hogsmeade with her mother, at his request, leaving him ample time to set up all the surprises he intended. Her mother had told her it was with the intention of gathering supplies for her now official job at Hogwarts set to start in a few months, by finding new clothes and parchments.  Upon her return, which he confirmed by looking out the window and seeing her walking back home with her mother, he carefully adjusted the lapel of his coat as Anne smiled at him from her bed. 

“You worry too much,” she told him with a reassuring yet tired smile. Looking over to his very worn twin he took a seat next to her as she lifted a shaky hand to help him settle his stray forelock looking at him with the same brown eyes he’d always known. The same ones he often saw in the mirror. 

“How could I not?” he asked her, and for once he was void of all confidence. She simply shook her head, leaning back in the bed as he carefully kissed her forehead, stepping out into the brisk summer air coming off the ocean down the hill.  Walking across the same path he’d traveled so many times as a child took much less time than he remembered, as he very quickly found himself in front of her door. He could hear her and her mother inside bustling around speaking in cheerful voices. Raising a sweat soaked palm up, he made a small fist, barely finding the strength to knock on the worn wooden door. 

It wasn’t long before the door swung open, revealing her surprised face on the other side. 

“Sebastian, your hair is shorter,” she said with a smile as she took in the now slightly shorter waves, as compared to the more overgrown and choppy layers he’d been sporting that morning. Lifting a hand, he stroked the nape of his neck, now exposed by the haircut he’d gotten. 

“Surprisingly enough, that is what happens when you cut it, especially at the recommendation of a beautiful woman” he countered attempting to use humor to alleviate the graphorn in his stomach. 

“What are you doing here? I was going to head over soon enough to make dinner-” she started as he gently lifted his arm for her to take. 

“Change of plan… it’s just the two of us tonight” he said with a nervous smile.

“But what about Anne?” she asked and it warmed his heart knowing he cared about his ill twin. 

“I can watch Anne, you two don’t need to worry” her mum called out from the living room, giving him a knowing look. 

“Shall we?” he asked and she smiled, excited to see what he had in store for her. Her heart fluttered at the thought of having a few stolen kisses with him in private, and it wasn’t long after they made it down the hill before she pounced on him. Tossing her arms over his shoulder, she flung her body against his, connecting their lips with a ferocity he hadn’t expected. 

Sebastian struggled to keep them upright as he caught her, but quickly recovered, holding her waist as she kissed him. Breaking apart after a few moments he smiled sweetly at her. “Couldn’t wait to get me alone… whatever shall I do with you and your wandering hands?” he teased as she giggled. Setting her back on the ground he once again held out a hand for her to take, which she did so willingly allowing him to start walking them towards the direction of the willow. 

The pair had walked this path so many times before, she knew where they were headed without having to ask. Simply walking beside him she exchanged anecdotes about her day, as well as complimenting his haircut, confirming it to be an improvement, which made him happy to hear. Before they made it to the edge of the mountain where the willow sat he turned to her, stopping her. 

“Wha-” she said as he dropped her hand, to remove something from his pocket leaving her perplexed. Pulling out a necktie - one of his old Slytherin ties ironically - he held it up in front of her. 

“I have a small surprise, if that’s okay?” he asked, stepping forward and holding it up, motioning to her eyes and she nodded, turning around for him to use the silk to obstruct her view. 

“Promise you won’t let me fall?” she asked in a small voice as he laughed, gripping her shoulders gently as he helped her avoid the roots in the forest so that he could lead her to the base of the old Sallow tree. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Besides I am sure you truly could find your way through this forest while blindfolded” he countered and she laughed, knowing he made a good point. 

As he brought her under the tree’s purple flower coated branches, he made sure that all the floating candles he had conjured while she was gone were still in place, as were the glowing flowers he had brought back from France and duplicated using a simple charm were in place. Taking a shaky breath he made sure she was facing away from him still blindfolded as he lifted his wand, starting the enchanted violin he’d borrowed from Ominis as the soft music filled the space. 

Stepping towards her, he pressed against her back just in time to feel her shiver as he lifted his hands to gently undo the tie, hoping to avoid pulling any hairs that might’ve gotten caught in the knot. Pocketing the material he stepped back as she asked

“Can I open my eyes” in a quiet and unsure voice. 

“Please do” he said, his voice cracking slightly as he watched her turn around quickly, observing all the changes to their space.  

“Are those-” she asked pointing to the enchanted lilies and he nodded. 

“Yes they are, I replanted these today after growing them out at the edge of the cow pastures for the past few weeks. I thought they belonged out here” he admitted and she smiled at the thought of him bringing her father’s flowers to the special place. 

“Is this what you wanted to surprise me with?” she asked, stepping forward as she leaned down to rub the soft petals between her fingers. 

“Partly, but it’s more so a nice addition” he said, voice once again shaking as he watched the beautiful expression in the profile of her face as she continued taking in the sights and sounds around them. 

“Oh what else did you have planned?” she asked, still not fully paying him attention. Her distraction would provide him the best opportunity to take her off guard like the romantics demanded, but his fingers felt like they were leaded as he reached in his pocket. Luckily she was too distracted by the flower’s glow to notice him sink down to the forest floor as he waited for her to turn around. 

When she did, she was temporarily surprised, expecting his much taller frame to be leaning over her, but when she looked down she immediately let out a gasp. Seeing him down on one knee, eyes already glossed over as he held a small box in his pocket she felt the need to blink rapidly, making sure this wasn’t a dream from which she’d wake up at any moment. Once realizing that this was real she looked back to his face as he smiled at her. 

“Come here?” he asked softly, a single tear leaking out, and upon seeing him so overwhelmed with emotion already she couldn’t deny him. Stepping forward she came to right in front of him, looking down as his face remained level with her rib cage, yet he tipped it up to catch her gaze. 

Reaching out, he grabbed her hand with his free hand, holding it close to his lips as he pressed a single kiss to the back of it before he let out a small whimper and shook his head. 

“Merlin. I had this all planned out. I had this speech planned and I have practiced for months on sheep, the mirror, you name it, yet I can’t get a word of it out. I have already ruined this” Sebastian said with an annoyed sigh, hoping to once again ground himself, yet finding it difficult. 

Seeing Sebastian so moved to emotion, especially at just the thought of proposing to her she sank down next to him, lifting a hand to push the tears off his face as she returned his watery smile with her own. 

“You haven’t ruined a thing” she confirmed as she looked into his eyes, hopeful he would be able to continue his rehearsed speech. 

“I feel like I have” he said with a sigh, finally composing himself as he looked at her pleading expression before continuing. “Sorry, I hadn’t expected to get so emotional but I just-” he started but once he reached the admission of what brought him to strong emotions he once again turned into a blubbering mess. 

She reached out, pushing the tears off his face as she silently cried next to him. 

“Merlin, now you’re crying. I have to be the world’s worst at this” he said with an embarrassed laugh and she joined in as he calmed again. 

“Sorry Mon Chou, this isn’t the proposal I imagine that you’d always anticipated… just being here, in a place that is so special to the both of us… seeing you here… thinking of always being able to come home to you… it’s just overwhelming after all that we’ve been through” he admitted as he looked down almost ashamed of his emotions and she lifted his stubble covered chin, forcing his eyes back to hers. 

“This is perfect, don’t you dare apologize Sebastian Sallow” she said with fake sternness as she wiped her own face of tears and let out something akin to a snort and a deep breath. 

“A Sallow crying under a Sallow, how ironic” he said hoping to release some of the tension he was feeling as she giggled. 

“A Sallow and a future Sallow crying under the Sallow tree you mean?” she asked as he looked at her bewildered. Processing her words he realized that not only had he technically not asked her, but she had given him an answer regardless. 

“So that means, you’ll…  you’ll marry me?” he questioned as she smiled. 

“Did you honestly think I would ever say no?” she asked leaning forward to grab his cheeks in her hands as she leaned forward to kiss him. 

“Just confirming that it is a yes,” he asked only a breath away from her.

“Absolutely I will marry you Sebastian” she replied against his lips before he dived back in, his damp eyelashes fluttering against her skin as he kissed her. 

Breaking away he remembered the ring, opening the box and sliding it on her finger. Lifting her hand up to his lips he kissed it before giving her a moment to examine the silver band replicating the branches of the willow around them as it wrapped around the purple stone. She looked at the ring dreamily as she realized he had the ring crafted to replicate the tree that had brought them together time and time again. 

“Sebastian…” she let out a gasp, amazed at how romantic the farmer could be. 

“I take it that means you like it?” he didn’t have to await her answer long before she happily exclaimed, 

“I love it so much. This is all so overwhelming truly” she said, once again leaning in for a chaste kiss. 

She could hear the violin playing softly and the breeze rustling the branches of the willow as his warm lips softly passed over hers. It was so utterly romantic she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by all that had happened. What he had asked… how emotional he’d gotten… the fact he looked so bloody handsome under the firelight 

She was reminded of how painful sitting on the ground was as her knees started to ache. Pulling back for a moment she noticed a blanket and a basket next to the tree's base. Seeing where her eyes had darted, he explained “I thought we could eat out here to celebrate privately” and he gestured to it, lifting himself as he held out his hand for her.

When he sat down on top of the blanket, he looked at her once more. “You look so beautiful…” he said with a lovestricken smile. At his admission she crawled closer to him, interrupting his attempt at collecting food from the basket he had placed earlier. Situating herself onto his lap, she once again began to kiss him, this time with much more passion than before. 

Breaking away from her advances he pecked her nose, leaning back before he responded with, “And I thought you were touchy before…” he teased as she shook her head, diving back in as he groaned into her mouth, overwhelmed as he realized she was not only kissing him so intently, but at some point she had begun rocking her hips into his own.  

“Sebastián…” she whined as she continued to grind on his growing arousal. Looking around Sebastian thought for a moment, wondering if it was a good idea. They were far from people out here, so the likelihood of being caught was slim to none. She seemed to desperately want him, much more than she had previously, yet still he hesitated. 

“This isn’t the right place for that-” he started, as he felt it was only fair for her that they only experience pleasure on a bed, or at the very least, not on the ground like animals. 

“I want you Sebastian, please… is this not such an important place to the two of us? Why should we not share another important moment here?” she countered before she started to gently trace her lips over the skin of his neck as he pondered what she suggested. With every second he found less ability to think, and instead a more heedy arousal growing. 

“But still, you deserve a proper bed, not the forest floor…” he let out after a moment with a quiet sigh given she had shifted from his neck to his earlobe, softly grazing the sensitive skin with her teeth as she continued to try and break down his self restraint. 

The woman had enthusiasm, and she certainly knew what she was doing as he felt every ounce of gentleman within him slipping away as she continued to rock against him, tracing the skin of his neck and ears with her lips and teeth. 

Pulling away she looked directly into his eyes, as she gazed at him almost innocently through her eyelashes. “Please take me now… I don’t care about a bed, or that we are outside… I don’t even care if you’re rough… I just want you” she said as she accentuated the word you while her eyes pleaded her case. 

Sebastian was sure she didn’t truly know what she was asking for.

Something about hearing such an innocent tone paired with such a sultry request made something within him snap. She hardly had a second to process before he had pounced on her like a wild dog, rolling her onto her back as he slid atop her body and began kissing her neck greedily. She went to slow his moments when she felt his teeth sucking into her skin, but knew that by the time she removed him, the skin would already be bruised, so she neglected to worry about whatever marks he may leave. 

Sighing she ran her hands up to his shoulders, cupping them as she held him closer to her body all the while, he continued to press his clothed arousal down onto her core even harsher than before.  She could already feel him straining through both the material of his trousers but also through her skirt. Looking down at the vague outline she could see, she nearly lost her composure realizing that Sebastian likely was… well endowed… 

Gone was the soft, emotional and love stricken Sebastian from before, and in his place was this wolfish man. At seeing her apprehension given his size he chuckled almost menacingly as he ducked his head lower, kissing her collarbones while he attempted to start removing the buttons of her blouse. Eagerly and quickly he removed her shirt, tossing it aside without even pausing before he began to strip her of the small corset and camisole she wore. Expert fingers shucked the articles of clothing from her body, quickly leaving her bare from the waist up as his hungry eyes took in her body while his tongue lapped at the newly revealed skin. She moaned out slightly loudly as his plush lips wrapped around her nipple, his stubble scratching the skin of her breast as he sucked the skin and his large hands played with the neglected one. 

“Merlin, I felt like such a creep when you finally got breasts, but I couldn’t help but stare at them. You came back for Christmas and they were just suddenly here and so very noticeable” he said, not quite intending for a conversation, and more so just rambling thoughts off the top of his head as he tried to catch a breath, his calloused fingertips grazing her nipple as she jerked under his hands.

Regaining slight composure as he slowed his movements, she took to unbuttoning his shirt, as he had at some point tossed his jacket and waistcoat without her noticing, eager to feel his skin on hers. She recalled seeing him shirtless one day when he had been 16, herself 13, when she was assisting Anne and he came back from outside, removing the shirt from behind the curtain and a draft from the opening door of the cottage revealed him temporarily for her to see. He was strong and wide even then, and she’d be lying if she hadn’t wondered what he looked like now that he was a man. 

She luckily didn’t have to wait long, as the final button of his shirt came undone and she pushed it down his arms, showcasing his tanned, and freckled torso. His chest had filled out much more than when he was a teenager, and now in the valley of his pecks sat a small patch of dark hair. Following the line down she saw as more hair appeared below his navel, disappearing into his trousers… 

Like the cat that caught the canary, Sebastian watched as she unashamedly stared at his semi nude form. “See something you like darling?” The playful quip came out a few octaves lower than he had previously been talking, and the added depth to his voice made her feel a pulse within her womanhood. 

She didn’t reply, tracing the skin of his newly revealed chest and shoulders with her fingers as he gave her a second to adjust. He watched her through hooded lids as she caressed the delicate skin of his ribs, making him shiver, as he wasn’t accustomed to anyone truly touching him here. Yet as she continued to gaze upon his body with wonder and amazement, his patient wore thin as he remembered the throbbing he felt below his waist. 

“There will be more time to get acquainted with our bodies later. I need you right now” he demanded, pulling up her waist so that he could start sliding down her skirt without permission. Not only did the man strip her out of outerwear, but in the quest to remove her skirt he pulled down her petticoat and her undergarments in one go, exposing her most subtle flesh to the Scottish highland air. 

Upon her full undressing minus her stockings, she tried to ignore the press of the wool blanket along her back as Sebastian groped at her curves. The man seemed like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to focus on. As a schoolboy, he had always enjoyed the various feasts throughout the year, as the lavish meals with more food than one could imagine certainly stunned the poor farm boy who often skipped meals. But right now, staring down at his newly appointed fiancé he felt a resurgence of a similar feeling he had as a first year in the great hall: a need to consume all that was before him.

“Merlin…” he said while looking down at her, as she shyly looked up to his ravenous expression. Her eyes shone with anticipation as his eyes tracked the expanse of her nude body. An Angelic face with soft lips and strong blush gave way to curved slopes of her neck and shoulders. The delicate skin of her breasts moving down to her navel and the narrow circumference of her waist. Juxtaposed was her hourglass figure hips, soft but also lean from her time dancing. He could see the small patch of well groomed hair sitting atop her womanhood, the beautiful v shape being obstructed by her lovely thighs. Sebastian couldn’t have that.

Prying her open with his one hand, he slithered down her body quickly, moving his face level with his prize. He could smell her arousal before he could see the dripping that had started down her thighs. He gave no warning before he was licking her open, prodding her entrance with his tongue with the up to most vigor he could provide. Sebastian had indulged on the rare occasion to do this provocative act, moreso for the woman’s pleasure. But swallowing her in this way, tasting her sweet nectar on his tongue, he knew that she was easily the best meal he had ever consumed. If he were to die between her muscular thighs, he’d die a happy man.

His intensity had stunned her, as had the use of his mouth on her lower regions. In all her experiences, she’d never had a man use his mouth on her, only her using her mouth to please their genitals. Feeling full lips kissing, sucking, and nipping at her was a new sensation that left her squirming. Sebastian seemed to be annoyed with her excessive movements, as he slammed her hips down with his forearm. “Hold still” he nearly commanded as he was holding her down before he resumed to work his tongue in and out of her. The feeling of him breathing his command directly into her core caused her to flood immediately. 

Unable to move her hips, she took to his hair. Sebastian fought against her as she tried to pry him off, unused to the feeling of a stubble covered chin between her thighs. He pulled her closer, to the point his face was completely buried in the apex of her thighs, his nose stroking her Pearl while his mouth continued to fuck her open. Her fingers continued to grasp and pull his hair almost while he filled her body with his groans at the feeling of her grip on his dark locks.

“Sebastian….” He could somewhat hear her say as he continued to eat her glorious cunt, picking up his pace as he felt her thighs begin to shake around his head. The pulling on his dark hair got more intense as he slid his hand to her opening, filling her with his finger as he moved his mouth to her clitorus. The feeling of his thick, calloused finger prying her open surprised her, but caused a shaky moan to leave her parted lips and as he looked up slightly at her face filled with pleasure, he felt such pride in knowing he was the one bringing it to her.

Feeling her inner walls give way, he didn’t hesitate before shoving in his middle finger alongside his pointer as he picked up the pace by thrust his appendages in and out of her tight hole while sucking on her bundle of nerves. He was insistent on bringing her over the edge more than once, as well as making sure she would be properly prepared. Based on prior experiences he had been told on more than one occasion that he was not small by any means of the word, and despite his strong urge to fill her, he refused to intentionally hurt her by pressing in before her body would be able to accept him. 

He was a gentleman after all.

She had never felt anything this intense before. Sure, she had laid with boys in her school before, allowing them to guide her inexperience as she trusted them to lead. Laying underneath Sebastian’s manhandling hands, and his vigorous efforts with his mouth, she wondered why she had even allowed such boys to toy with her when all this time she could’ve been experiencing pure ecstasy at the hands of a real man. 

She was taken aback when her body suddenly flushed and she felt a release unlike anything she had experienced before. A small whimper leaving her lips at the new feeling of someone else bringing her body please sounded through the air and caused Sebastian to immediately abandon his post to search her face for signs that he’d hurt her. 

“Was I too rough?” he asked her, lips glistening with her arousal and she watched as it continued all the way down to his chin and up to his nose. His eyes begged for an answer and she attempted to situate herself before responding. 

“No, it just caught me off guard is all” she said, refusing to mention the word for what had just happened. At her shy nature Sebatian grinned, moving closer to her face again, as his hand with soaked digits wrapped around her waist. 

“I thought you said you had experience” he teased as she calmed her ragged breathing. 

“Yes, but… that doesn’t mean it’s ever felt like, well that…” she still refused to acknowledge the reaction to which he had drawn from her. At the admission his eyes somehow grew even darker than previously before, his pupil getting buried within his chocolate brown eyes. 

Licking his lips, Sebastian allowed the knowledge only he had ever brought her over the edge of ecstasy inflate his ego before he responded. “So you’ve never experienced an orgasm with anyone else until now…” he said rhetorically as he stared down at her. 

Blushing wildly at his open ease with the conversation topic she shook her head no. “I had always assumed that a man using his mouth on a woman was, well, vulgar” she told him, as no man had ever crawled between her legs and brought the heavens to her the way he had just moments before.

Darkly chuckling he leaned in closer, and she was worried he was going to kiss her with her slick still on his lips, he replied “Oh it may be vulgar darling… but I quite enjoy hearing what it does to you while I am eating this perfect cunt”. Sebastian admitted it, no regard for his less than gentleman choice of words, before he claimed her lips once more. He left his eyes open as he kissed her for a moment, just to watch her shock before he let his eyes flutter shut to focus on the way her lips felt against his own. He partially did it to see her reaction to her taste, and partly to calm himself from just pulling out his manhood and shoving in like an animal. 

She had become surprised at her own wetness on his lips and face, finding the taste to be odd, but not entirely off putting as she had imagined it would be. Kissing him back, she pressed her body up into him, as much as he would allow given he was pushing her into the ground with his own. Eventually he came up for air, looking down at her once more. Seeing her stockings were still on, he slid back to remove them. As he did so, he caught a glimpse at the faded scar along her ankle and foot from that dreaded night Solomon had startled her and knocked over the lantern. Sebastian had seen glimpses of it on the very rare occasion they put their feet in the creek or she had been pulling up socks to leave home, but he hadn’t truly studied it since he was a child and used magic to heal it. 

Carefully tracing along the now healed, but still slightly marred skin, he smiled remembering the day they had met, briefly allowing his mind to be filled with images of them over the years. The day she conjured the willow, when he found her after her gran died, when she found him after Solomon, when they’d danced together after the yule ball, the night in France, the night on the beach, all leading to right now. 

Looking back up he saw her face laced with a combination of anxiety, anticipation and arousal. She gave him a small nod, as if to make sure he had the go ahead to do as he please, and by merlin, he intended to have his way with her. 

“Last chance, you’re sure this is what you want. As rough as I want, you said?” he asked, confirming she didn’t seem to mind if his more brazen urges took over and he was more gruff handed with her. 

“I promise to stop you if it becomes too much but… I think we’ve waited long enough and I certainly don’t wish for you to hold back anything from me” she confirmed and his heart soared at those words. 

His whole life Sebastian had felt subdued. Forced to restrain showing emotion after his parents died by Solomon. Forced to stop searching for a cure by Anne and Ominis. Forced to hold back on his wishes to be with her. No more would he stop every ounce of love, care, respect and need for her ever again. From now on he was going to allow the fullest extent of his passion slip out, and the thought alone made him nearly lose his composure. 

Normally he would allow a woman to undress him, but given his untamed surge of emotion, he stripped himself of his trousers with record speed, leaving only his briefs and his socks. As he moved to remove the final barriers between them she stopped him, a genuine whine leaving his lips as she slowed his speed down. As she looked at him, she wriggled out from under him and delicately pushed him over onto his back. Giving her a questioning look as to why she was slowing them down she shook her head. 

“I have waited for so long, I don’t want to feel rushed. I want to see you, all of you, before you enter me…” she admitted and he nodded, somewhat understanding her request, but still finding it frustrating as he had been ready to enter her already, and this was slowing down his plans. Realizing that she was entitled to go at whatever pace she desired, especially given that she’d given him permission to do as he pleased later on, he tried to calm his racing heart and give her the moment she needed. 

Using her delicate fingers to undo the tie securing the material around his waist, before slowly hooking her fingertips along the inside of the cotton briefs and pulling them down at such a turtle like pace it made him want to scream. Eventually he felt the slightly chilled air on his cock as she finally freed it from the constricting material and he looked down to watch her shocked face as it smacked against his abdomen immediately at being freed. 

Oh Merlin. 

She couldn’t help but stare, the path of pulling down his undergarments abandoned as she simply just stared at him. The thoughts of having to fit such a thick appendage like that inside of her, knowing previously nothing that large had breached her, made her mouth run dry. Looking away before she lost her nerve, she pulled down the briefs the rest of the way before also stripping his socks to give herself a moment to calm her anxiety. 

Figuring she should likely stroke or maybe even lubricate before he dove in, she decided to place him in her mouth as she crawled back up his body.  It only felt fair given he had also used his mouth on her. 

The feeling of her wet mouth around him instantly made him jump, surprised she would do such a thing given the anxiety he’d seen moments ago. Relaxing back into the wool blanket, he let her slide her tongue along the head of his cock, enjoying the way it felt. Expert movements in her mouth told him that she had done so before, and while part of him wanted to throttle any lucky man who had her sweet lips wrapped around their sad excuse for a cock, he partially wanted to thank them for instructing her so well, as the way she moved felt like nothing he’d ever experienced before. 

Worrying about his longevity, he was instantly brought back to reality as moved his hands up to collect her hair in a makeshift ponytail allowing him to see her face. He smiled remembering the night he’d told her it looks better down, enjoying how ever since then, she would leave it hanging on his behalf regardless of propriety.  Using his hold on her hair to gently pry her mouth off him, she looked confused. 

“As truly wonderful, and I mean incredible as that feels, I must confess if you keep going I may not make it all the way” he told her, the admission bringing her a surge of confidence as she nodded and slid up his body, finding purchase with her hands steadying herself along his shoulders. Looking down she could both see and feel his manhood straining against the outside of her opening. 

“So this is it” she said, her voice indicating to him that she was unsure how to proceed. 

“It is if you’re still sure you want this” he told her, because as much as every nerve in his body was screaming to snap his hips upward, he would never do so if she was showing any hesitation. 

“I want this. What way uh-” she trailed off, unsure how to ask him what position may be best for him to enter her, as she imagined sinking down on him right now would feel similar to those paintings at her school of Vlad the Impalers victims… 

“Do you trust me?” he asked after a moment, eyes softening as he questioned her. 

“Of course I do” she said, as if she was offended he had to ask. 

“Then may I take the reins back darling? I promise I will make you feel good, and you can stop me if it hurts but to be honest… I am sort of dying here” he said with a chuckle, gesturing to the way he was throbbing so intensely his cock giving her an indication of how much he was struggling with the anticipation. 

“Please do. I am not sure why I crawled on top, I don’t think I have the… tenacity to command submission from someone as… well endowed as you.  I mean, I’m sure I could but I don’t know how much of it would feel authentic” she started rambling but made no effort to crawl back off his body. Normally he would find her struggle to find the words cute, but right now he had other priorities. 

Grabbing her waist aggressively with one hand, yet gently cradling the back of her head with the other, he flipped her onto her back as he pushed his hips down onto hers. The pressure doing wonders for him as he groaned out, “another time perhaps, right now I just want you begging underneath me while I stretch you out” he admitted as lined them up with the hand that had cradled her head during the movement. 

Adjusting his cock’s head inside her lower lips, and letting it touch the outside of her opening he looked to her for confirmation one last time. She didn’t speak, simply nodded as she looked up at him with the most angelic expression he’d seen before he plunged into her walls. 

Having felt the moistness still collected there from the way he’d brought her pleasure, he was able to get himself halfway inside without much trouble as he sunk deeper and deeper within her velvet walls. As much as he wished he could have savored the moment of breaching her walls for the first time, he couldn’t help his wolfish tendency to be buried as deep as he could be. Paired with the fact that soon her body opened up for him, sucking him in as their bodies seemed to work in tandem with one another, he soon found himself with his hips pressed against hers.  

She looked down, seeing the way he was buried to the hilt within her body, the sight alone causing him to twitch within her, before he moved back to make sure she was alright. She didn’t seem to be in pain, but the look of shock on her face as he caught her staring down at the way her body had been pierced by him made him nearly lose composure. Still, he refused to move before he was sure she would be alright. 

She had been surprised at the way her body had accepted him without much pain. Obviously she had felt that familiar sting of being entered, but she had experienced more pain with less… Regardless she was amazed when she looked down and saw that he had slid into her with grace. Perhaps having known him so long, her body was comfortable with him regardless of his size. As she looked up she noticed his eyebrow quirked and she almost questioned why but then she realized he was asking nonverbal permission to start moving so she nodded. 

As soon as she gave him the go ahead and let out a deep breath and immediately pulled his hips up so he was halfway out before snapping back inside her, the intensity catching her off guard for a moment. Feeling the way he intended to pound into her, she reached up to hold his shoulders in order to keep herself steady as he kept going. 

This seemed to frustrate him further as he pushed her arms off without warning, gripping them in one of his larger hands and pinning them above her head to hold her down as he continued rocking his hips against her with such speed he wondered how he had lasted this long. 

The feeling of Sebastian holding her down caused her to start shaking, having not anticipated him being so rough with her, but that didn’t mean she didn’t find herself flooding more and more as he continued. 

“Fuck, the way your body opens up for me… like it knows it’s mine” he said between clenched teeth. At his admission she looked back up at him, seeing how smug he looked having her in such a vulnerable position as he entered her body over and over again. When she didn’t respond he tightened his grip on her wrists, leaning down as continued to move his hips without stopping. 

“Say you’re mine” he demanded of her as he placed his lips next to ear. Afraid of the consequences of refusing she met his eyes as he leaned away. 

“I am yours,” she said with a breathless voice. He smirked once more as he noticed the way she began to crawl closer and closer to release. Not wanting her to finish quite yet, he pulled out of her, and she let an annoyed whine fall past her lips as he hovered over her flushed body. 

Letting go of her wrists he looked at her before speaking, “Not yet princesse, you’ll cum when I say you can” he demanded as he pulled her hips upward. For a moment she was confused as to what he was attempting to do, but when he easily lifted her up, spinning her around onto her hands and knees she got a semblance of what he was going to do. 

She’d never heard of people doing it this way, only animals, yet the thought alone made her excited. Pushing her upper back down, he used the hand on her waist to pull her bottom up as high as he could before leaning over her back to place his one hand next to her side and his mouth next to her ear. “Arch your back my little danseuse” he commanded while using a hand to help shift her into the position he wanted and she did her best to comply. 

“There you are… look so gorgeous like this, all spread out for me, just waiting for my cock” he said as he once again lined himself up at her entrance but when he didn’t push inside she looked back at him confused for a second, as she’d been anticipating him. 

“Beg” he told her as he leaned his body over hers, his hand moving up to gently cup her neck as he breathed in the perfume spot she always had behind her ear. 

“What..” she barely managed to get out as he pushed his hips into hers more forcefully but still not entering. 

“Beg for it, for me. Tell me what you want right now and I promise I’ll give it to you… you just need to ask nicely” he told her as he nudged the side of her cheek with his nose. She could feel him still throbbing against her entrance and his much larger body engulfed hers from behind. A part of her was still very nervous at the thought of being entered from behind, as it seemed more vulgar, but the part of her that was curious won over. 

“Please Sebastian” 

“Please what” he said, once again rocking into her, reminding her that she still had yet to be properly entered.  Sebastian looked down at her darkly as he saw her apprehension and uncertainty to elaborate upon what he was asking of her. 

“Tell me you want me to enter you darling… that you me to fuck like an animal on the ground out here in the woods” he lead her to the words he wanted to hear her confirm as he felt her hips shaking under his tight hold. 

“I want you to fill me…” she said cautiously, not used to having to beg for intimacy, certainly not from Sebastian, yet her body shook with the anticipation it brought being reduced to a blubbering mess as he commanded both her body and her actions from his position. She never would question his authority, but this intensity was new to her, as most of the boys she’d entertained were blushing virgins. 

“What else” he spit out against her neck, waiting for her to repeat back the other words he’d spoken. 

“I want you to enter me from behind like animals do…” she said innocently and he almost laughed at the way the foreign words came off her tongue, but he didn’t have time before he swiftly re entered her tight core with a grunt, feeling himself sliding in deeper than he had earlier, as the change in position allowed him to stretch her even further. 

She was shocked when she felt him pushing into the back of her channel, feeling him graze her internal opening as he began to pick up the pace.

“Fuck. You feel so warm darling, I just want to stay inside as long as I can” he admitted to her as he continued to pound into her with a strength she didn’t know he had, feeling her legs start to give out of her as her hips threatened to sink beneath his weight. Instead of fighting her to stay up, he pushed her until she was level with the ground, continuing to sink into her as he rested his knees on the ground beside her thighs. 

“So.. full…” she choked out against the blanket as he kept moving and she felt his unrestrained strength as he continued to fuck her. As a girl she’d dreamed of him gently taking his time with her, undressing slowly and romantically taking his time as he moved within her.  Now as an adult, she found that letting him express the extent of his manly whims was much more… enjoyable. 

“So full of me. Gods you are so fucking beautiful like this… I…” he struggled as he moved his head to her shoulder as he pushed in deep once again before he stopped without warning, pulling out to shift their positions. At this point she stopped questioning it, allowing herself to be manhandled into whatever placement his filthy mind had dreamt up. 

Sebastian slid onto his back, pulling her on top of him as her hips went to each side of his waist. As he got them into the basic position, he slowed down slightly, sliding her hands up to his shoulders gently. Reaching his lips up he gently kissed her, his mouth caressing hers, all the while he groaned into her mouth. 

“I want to see your face when you finish… as much fun as I was having I don’t want to finish off our first time with you being fucked into the ground like one of my farm animals” he said with a small chuckle, pushing a sweat soaked tendreal of hair off her face.  The jump he had made from dominant and aggressive to soft and gentle catching her off guard and she nearly protested, worried the shift in tone would force him to slow down his tempo in pleasing her. 

“Don’t worry, I promised you that you’ll finish… and we can always revisit the previous position at a later time if you’d like” he gave her a reassuring smile before lifting her hips, lining them up once more and holding her there so that she could sink down when she was ready. Already missing the friction he’d been providing she sank down quickly, not caring as his thick cock stretched her impossibly more than she had been earlier. 

Once she found herself fully seated atop of him, he wasted no time before he was lifting her up by her hips, and pulling her back down, doing the motions for her. Feeling like she was being thrown around like an old sack, she cried out, allowing him to continue using her body on top of his for pleasure, while she clenched her walls around him. 

“You feel so good. Merlin, you're so pretty. Gonna be my wife” he started saying with shortness of breath, looking up at her as his eyes told her that he was getting closer, as the confidence he wore earlier melted into wide eyed ecstasy. 

“Sebastian please… I need to…” she said, a breath away from finishing as she felt him twitch within her. 

“I’ve got you, finish for me -” he encouraged her as he pulled her closer to him, his nose rubbing against hers as he breathed her in, his eyes planted within her gaze as she felt him twitch once more. 

Needing no further encouragement, she came harder than she had earlier, her cunt giving such a death grip on his cock that he quickly muttered out “fuck” nearly falling over the edge with her immediately, but by some miracle he held off. 

“I - where?” he choked out, barely holding back and the urgency of his tone broke the waves of pleasure she was experiencing. 

Inside

He nearly fell apart hearing her asking him to spill inside of her warmth, but he felt the need to double check that she was okay with that, as doing so could have… unintended consequences. 

“You’re sure?” he asked, as she looked down at him and she nodded. 

“I want to feel all of you” she confirmed and he groaned out knowing he could spill his load exactly where he wanted it to be : as far deep within her as it could be.  He knew she was on a contraceptive potion, one her mother was insistent on the moment they’d started courting, but to still be granted permission to do something so intimate made him very happy. 

Sebastian knew once they were wed he could spill within her without the use of a potion, and the thought of putting a child into her caused his hips to stutter. 

“Fuck” he shouted out as he placed his sweat soaked brow along her collarbones. In the moments he’d been lost in the thought of filling her with a child he hadn’t noticed that she’d moved back and started rocking her hips without his help, trying to finish him off on her own. The kind gesture worked wonders as he reached his hand down to palm her ass roughly. 

“I love -” he started but wasn’t able to finish as a large tremor racked through his body, as his cock exploded within her walls. She felt him spill inside of her as she continued to rock her hips against his and she didn’t stop until he used his hands to slow her movements. As she came to a stop she could feel his large load sliding back out of where their bodies were still joined together and she all but collapsed on top of him, exhausted. 

I love you

He whispered against her hair, finally finishing the phrase he started while he came. She didn’t respond, smiling as she laid on his chest, hearing his heartbeat under her cheek. She was slowly starting to slip into sleep when he shook her awake, knowing they shouldn’t sleep out here like this, especially since he figured her mum would come looking for them eventually. 

“So a Scottish Summer wedding?” he asked her and she looked at him hopefully. 

“Do you mean next year..?” she questioned, knowing engagements usually lasted a long time and figured he would be in no rush with Anne as sick as she was. 

“This. If you’re up for that.  Anne mentioned wanting to relocate to Hogsmeade to take some tension off me since Ominis has a home there and I found out that Thomas Brown is considering selling Tomes and Scrolls. I figured that it would provide a nice bit of income if I took over, plus we both know there’s not many books I haven’t read. Wouldn’t be far from the school either” he explained with a sigh. 

“What about Feldcroft?” she asked cautiously. 

“What about it? We can still live here. Apparition and floo networks exist for a reason” he responded with a chuckle as his fingertips gently traced the skin of her back. 

“You don’t think it’s too soon” she asked him, remembering that for so long he seemed apprehensive to the idea of tying her down so soon. 

“Not soon enough. I’d marry you tomorrow if I could… but give me a few weeks and I’ll be ready. That is, if you are…?” he asked her as she finally looked up from his chest to see his eyes. 

“Can we do it on the beach?” she asked playfully, her question answering his own. 

“Anything you want darling.” 

Epilogue

They had been wed only a few weeks after Sebastian had proposed. A small crowd of their close friends, family, and neighbors joined. Mr. and Mrs. Sharp attended with their newborn daughter, Daphne Sharp, who won the hearts of nearly everyone in attendance. Per her request to have it on the beach, Sebastian researched a charm to make light, non chilled snow fall against the beautiful backdrop, replicating the night he’d finally let down the last of his walls and they’d kissed. 

She looked so beautiful as she stood there in a soft dress. Her mother and Anne helped weave flowers into her hair, several of them from the willow she’d collected and in his mind she looked like a nymph crawling from the forest to be with him forever. He’d worn his kilt, unable to shake his Scottish pride and when the priest had finished bounding their hands he couldn’t wait to start their lives together. 

A small part of her had always known that since that day when they were children, she was going to love him indefinitely. Sebastian had gotten her permission to have a metalworker melt down her grandmother's ring in order to make a simple wedding band to lay next to the ring he’d proposed with. For his own, Sebastian had decided to use his fathers to a band crafted similar to the branches holding her amethyst. 

Opening up the door to Tomes and Scrolls for the first time after purchasing it felt incredible. He’d always loved the shop as a boy, giving him access to books he couldn't borrow due Scribner’s close eyes.  Since she had some limited time before beginning at Hogwarts, he took up her kind offer to help him renovate the space as he had wanted, adding a basement below the shop for printing, so that he could not only sell tomes, but also print them. She brought a much needed feminine touch to decorating the shop, bringing forth his Slytherin pride given it was in the castle’s backyard but incorporating snakes and dark green into the furniture. By the time they finished, he was happy with the results, turning the back room into an office for himself to write when he had the time. 

Informing his boss at the ministry he was not returning hadn’t been difficult. Anne was back for the time being, staying with Ominis in Hogsmeade, and he was a married man back in his home where he always belonged. Being an Ambassador had always been fun, but not quite a proper fit. Being surrounded by books and having time to write them brought forth a sense of peace he hadn’t imagined. 

As he looked around at his shop he couldn’t help but smile, but when he felt arms wrapping around his own he moved to close the book he’d been reading when he heard her ask. 

“Is that a branch from our willow?” she asked and he watched as her ringed hand moved to take the book from him as she moved from behind him. 

“It is,” he confirmed, knowing she was referring to the branch he’d broken off all those years ago. Ever since that day it had sprouted, he’d used it as his place marker in books, smiling whenever he opened his schoolbooks to see a piece of her nestled there at hogwarts with him. 

“When did you start using that?” she asked with a small laugh as she stroked its delicate form before closing the book and handing it back to him. 

“Uh… 8 years ago?” he asked as he did the mental math. 

“That long ago?” she asked him, surprised she’d never noticed until now. 

“Same day it emerged I broke this off. Had it in a book ever since” he told her with a shrug. 

“So this is one of our Sallows first flowers?” she asked sweetly as he nodded. 

“How was training with the old bag?” 

“Oh yeah! Get this, Scribner nearly fainted when I was introduced as y/n Sallow. Black had to call Nurse Blainey to check on her. Poor woman still is traumatized by your time at Hogwarts” 

“She didn’t take it out on you though? Being my wife?” he asked, worried proximity to him would make her life easier. 

“She might question my choices but she remained professional… well past the initial shock” she once again laughed while taking out her wand and setting it on the counter. He looked down seeing the worn handle next to his recently replaced one. Sebastian had refused to change the style or look of his wands handle, but he frequently replaced the checkered green handle due to general wear and tear. 

“I need to get you a new handle for this” he stated simply as he lifted her wand as he examined the worn out wooden handle with its still glistening gem on the end. 

“I don’t need another one” she countered, reaching for her wand as he continued to look at it, seeing the places where her hands had warped the wood. 

“It's worn out. You should’ve replaced this years ago. How you cast properly with this thing I’ll never know” he admitted handing it back to her. 

“I would never replace what you gifted me” she replied bluntly. 

“Then let me gift my wife a new one” Sebastian said while pulling her closer to him against the counter. 

“Mhm I like the sound of that” she admitted, resting her head along his shoulders, breathing in his warm and cedar smell that always clung to him. 

“Well if you want, we can run by Ollivanders now if you’d like” he offered and she shook her head. 

“I mean, we can but that’s not what I meant” she countered with a small chuckle, lifting his worn workers hands, seeing the small silver band resting on his ring finger. Realizing what she had been referring to he removed his hand from her grasp and placed it under her chin. 

Suddenly she was back in feldcroft at 10 years old, looking into the dark brown eyes of the sweet boy next door. The one whom she’d fallen in love with. Except now they stood in Hogsmeade almost a decade later, man and wife. 

Sebastian gently brushed his lips against hers before pulling away. “You certainly like being called Mrs. Sallow… it’s quite endearing I might add” he said, gently rubbing his nose on hers before pulling away and adding “I am replacing that wand handle too. You can’t stop me” 

“Fine. But I’m cooking dinner tonight Mr. Sallow” she countered. 

“Only if you’re on the menu” he said playfully and she squeaked. 

“Sebastian! Anyone could walk by and hear-” she said, cringing if someone happened to have heard. 

“That didn’t stop you that day in my new office” he countered and she rolled her eyes, remembering the day she decided they needed to christen tomes and scrolls with their… marital bliss. 

“What am I going to do with you?” she asked him pretending to be annoyed. 

“Um… love me forever and tell our children how smart their father is?” 

“I suppose I could do that… I still can’t believe it sometimes” she admitted, a small smile on her face as he moved up beside her. 

I can. 

THE END 

(unless of course i get inspired)

[sad-chaos-goblin]

Wrote a ficlet inspired by a conversation @ineffabildaddy and I had about Bearded Supreme Archangel Aziraphale. Thank you sooo much Sam for your input and making writing this silly thing extra fun! <3

The second coming has been averted, Heaven and the Metatron have been dealt with and our demon and angel are reunited. Apologies have been made, they're back in the bookshop. Crowley plans to finally take Aziraphale to enjoy a very alcoholic breakfast at the Ritz, but it seems like they might get sidetracked. 

“Mrrhm really angel, you’re fixing that again? Looks jus’ fine.” grumbles Crowley. He’s draped on the armchair, watching Aziraphale fussily rearrange his already neat bowtie.

Aziraphale purses his lips. “I am not going to the Ritz looking sloppy, I have standards.”

Crowley chuckles. “What ‘bout that beard and messy hair back in Heaven then? Not the most polished look, wass it?” he teases.

Aziraphale sighs fretfully. “I can’t believe I allowed myself to look so scruffy. Quite unacceptable.”

Crowley’s mind wanders, remembering how shockingly different Aziraphale had looked when he’d become Supreme Archangel. The wild curls, the slightly scruffy beard, the exhaustion so apparent on the face that used to be bright and cheerful, those usually sparkly eyes looking dull and bleary. He feels a stab of sorrow as he remembers. But intermingled with that sorrow are other feelings. The way his heart had raced when he’d imagined running his fingers through those long, untidy curls. The way he’d catch himself wondering how that beard would feel against his skin. He shifted in the armchair, feeling a rush of warmth tug inside him.

“Well angel, it’s not like it was a bad look. In fact, if you ever want to grow it back for a while, that would be…” he waves a hand trying - and failing - to look nonchalant. “…that would be fine… with me”. The last two words come out strained and a tad squeaky.

Aziraphale raises an eyebrow and smiles. “Oh, so you would like me to grow it back?” he says, cheekily.

“Well, mhh, if you want.” he says, breaking eye contact because he suddenly feels like he might explode if he keeps looking at the angel.

Aziraphale walks toward Crowley and leans forward, placing his hands on the armrests of the chair, bringing his face close to the demon’s.

His voice drops an octave. “I will, if you tell me that you want it”.

Crowley swallows hard. It’s a good thing he’s seated because he doubts his knees could hold him up right now. “Ngk. Yes, I want it” he rasps, barely managing to choke out the words.

Aziraphale’s mouth slightly quirks upwards. “As you wish, my dear”, his voice still low and commanding. He snaps his fingers and immediately the beard is back, and his hair is longer, messy curls falling on his forehead.

Crowley vaguely realises his hands are tightly clenched into fists. His heart is thumping wildly in his chest. His breath hitches in his throat, his eyes taking in the way the angel’s messy curls fall around his sparkling blue eyes, the way his soft lips look even softer framed by the silvery grey beard.

Aziraphale reaches a hand up to cup the demon’s neck and runs his thumb along his cheekbone. “What else do you want right now, Crowley?” he asks, voice gravelly and seductive.

Crowley feels like he’s caught on fire. He can barely form coherent thoughts, let alone think of anything clever or flirtatious to say. “Ngk. I… you, I want you, angel.”

Aziraphale smiles. He moves even closer, their noses touching. “I think we might need to reschedule the Ritz.” he whispers as he gently pulls Crowley into a slow, indulgent kiss.

[red-dead-sakharine]

Serendipitous ways (updated version) Part 1

Celebrimbor x m!reader, 794 words bearded reader, pining, love infatuation at first sight, m/m, confused brimby

(Wasn't happy with the first version. I really wanted to post it before going to bed and it felt rushed. So here we go, new attempt! Slower pacing. This is more what I was originally aiming for. Lots of confused Celebrimbor.)

Celebrimbor walked down the streets of Eregion, strolling through the gentle autumn sun. He liked to walk the city, to get an impression of how his people were doing.

Many came to his city to learn and hone their craft, and the elven lord was proud of that. But he could not take care of everyone in person. Most of the time people arrived, found someone who matched the craft they were pursuing and asked for directions or a place to learn, and thus swiftly ended up in someone's workshop or learning hall. Many came and went without the lord of the city ever knowing about them. But today would be different.

As he strolled down the street leading up to the stables, his ears picked up the unmistakable, rhythmic clanking of a smith's hammer, and his gaze wandered over to the farrier's workshop. He unconsciously slowed his steps until he came to a halt, observing the source of the sounds.

A human stood in the workshop, working on what looked to become a horseshoe. Muscles flexing with each swing of the hammer, sweat dripping from the man's brow - for some reason, Celebrimbor could not take his eyes off him. The man's movements were skilled and sure. He only paused briefly to check his progress before he returned to hammering.

It was strange, Celebrimbor thought, how he enjoyed watching the man. He was far from the first smith the lord of the city had watched during his work - not even the first human. But there was something about this one, that he could not place. Something enticing. The way the man's (y/h/c) hair moved with each swing, the way his beard decorated his jawline... He could not help but to enjoy the sight. Not only was the human handsome in this rugged mortal kind of way, but his movements were smooth and practiced. Watching him smith was almost like watching a dance.

Celebrimbor straightened himself and took a deep breath. What was going on with him? He's never looked at someone like that before. This was ridiculous! Just one smith among a thousand.

He was about to leave when the man placed the finished horseshoe to the side, wiped the sweat off his forehead and walked over to where a waterskin hung from a nail in the wall, to take a few long gulps. The lord of Eregion couldn't help but stare at the man. Once he finished and wiped his mouth with the back of his gloved hand, Celebrimbor forced himself to snap out of it and willed his legs to move.

With a perhaps too forceful step, he walked briskly past the workshop and fled the area, only slowing down after he had rounded the corner, to take another deep breath. He frowned to himself, confused about those bizarre feelings he had just been assaulted with. He had watched countless smiths working before, and never had he been enthralled like by the sight of this human. It was most peculiar. Celebrimbor did not like the way he had felt so utterly unable to tear his eyes away; so powerless to simply move on. He was used to being in control of himself. This was entirely unacceptable! Whatever bizarre thing had just happened, he would not let it happen again. The elf lord made for the safety of his own workshop, planning to distract himself with his craft. He was sure that he would forget all about this strange moment, by the end of the day...

He did not forget all about the human. In fact, he could not get him out of his mind. Celebrimbor had tried to lose himself in his work, but he kept getting distracted - unbidden images of the man hammering his iron kept haunting him.

What was wrong with him?

He began pacing his wokshop, grumpy that he let himself be so easily distracted. That smith was just some random human stranger! ...a ruggedly handsome human stranger. Bah! He let out a hiss, annoyed with his own thoughts.

There was something so strangely appealing about this man. It irked him, that he was so drawn to a human he knew nothing about. It was silly. But he couldn't deny that he felt some odd longing towards the man. An itch to go back down to the stables and approach him - speak to him.

Celebrimbor let out a frustrated sigh. This was entirely ridiculous. He looked to the window and saw it was already dark; he must have been pacing for longer than he had thought. The human smith had surely already retired for the day. With another sigh, he decided to head home. A good night's rest would surely get him back to normal...

(I'm a big fan of the idea that, since most elves only love once in their lifetime, there's a destined special someone for them out there who they have to meet to find love. And when they finally do, it can be downright jarring, because it's the first and only time they experience true love; so it's confusing, and amazing, and scary, and wonderful, and terrifying all at once. And it might take them some time to realize what the hell is going on with them.)

👉 Part 2

[cartelheir]

𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

name: patricia carosella.

nickname: pat.

gender: female.

sexuality: almost straight. like a 1 on the kinsey scale if we went by that.

preferred pet names: in spanish, her favorites are cariño or amor or mi alma. if you're not a native spanish speaker, there's two options: calling her a pet name in your native language, or learning one in spanish for her. both will make her melt. she also doesn't really mind it if there's no pet name at all or if it's just reserved for special occasions tbh.

relationship status: single. in some verses she's married, but don't take this as a lack of availability lmao.

opinion on true love: it's complicated. she believes that even if it is real, it's never going to happen to her. yet she craves it like crazy and unconsciously searches for it in the people she falls in love with.

opinion on love at first sight: she believes in lust at first sight, but definitely not love.

how 'romantic' are they?: in some ways more than others. she doesn't like it when her partner is too clingy, and grand declarations of love, unless they actually feel organic and natural, can fall flat with her as she's not sure how to respond (and again can fall into the clingy category if overdone). however she does enjoy many aspects of romanticism, such as gifts, going on dates, being surprised with something she likes, maybe making a crazy decision or two on the name of love, etc. and, of course, physical touch, one of her main love languages.

ideal physical traits: pat doesn't have a lot of specific physical traits that she prefers over others. in general, it's more of a vibe or style or demeanor that catches her attention when it comes to looks. i guess if i had to pick some, brown eyes, clean shaven or facial hair on the softer side (like stubble or at most a goatee rather than a full beard), strong arms/shoulders, taller than her.

ideal personality traits: assertiveness, even if that kind of personality tends to clash with hers sometimes. confidence bordering on arrogance (she thinks it's sexy). someone who doesn't have a lot of morals and maybe is a little bit evil (also sexy). she's very much attracted to power and success so being ambitious goes a long way too.

unattractive physical traits: being shorter than her (she's 5'1, so to her it's just unacceptable). also being unkept. i joke a lot about pat wanting to dress up her partners and preferring an elegant style, but she's way more willing to accept a style that's different from what she usually likes as long as there was actual thought put into it. does the outfit match? are the clothes ironed and nice or are they old and worn-out? do they style their hair or just walk out of the door without paying attention to what they look like? she's just not into the messy aesthetic.

unattractive personality traits: boredom and meekness. pat can't stand pushovers, she likes to have a partner who challenges her and who would rather argue with her than just agree with everything she says for the sake of being too nice or avoiding potential conflict. someone who's too apologetic or too insecure just wouldn't work for her, as she would look down on them for those traits.

ideal date: going out to dinner somewhere she can dress up. or being surprised with a spontaneous, unusual date.

do they have a type?: older men, typically in positions of power and high social status. i can go on and on about why, but there are dozens of posts around my blog about how her experiences shaped that. this is not a rule, but it is a cycle that she has a lot of trouble breaking, and it typically takes a very special bond with someone to get her to deviate a lot from it.

average relationship length: a few months, she's very chaotic so most don't last much longer than that. however when she gets attached, or when there's a serious commitment like a marriage (in the case of alt verses), she's reluctant to break things off even when they're bad.

preferred non-sexual intimacy: as i mentioned before she's big on physical touch, so cuddling, kisses, hugs, or even just holding hands or leaning against each other as they watch tv or do something else. but her favorite kind of intimacy is when someone treats her like a priority and makes her feel special. like including her in things, remembering things about her, or spending time with her even though they could be doing something else. she likes the idea of someone choosing to be with her because they like her company, not because they're stuck with her for whatever reason or because they just want sex from her. it might not seem like a lot, but it's really important to her.

opinion of public affection: she's okay with it, but prefers sticking to holding hands, hugs, quick kisses, etc. long kisses/making out, maybe in a crowded party, but she prefers to be in private.

past relationships?: her most impactful relationship was obviously the one with césar navarro, in which she was a victim of grooming and a lot of abuse. regardless of the verse, she still carries deep wounds from this relationship that affect basically all aspects of her life and how she sees love. after that, there have been many chaotic dysfunctional relationships, most of them short-lived.

tagged by: no one but i do what i want tagging: @citylighten, @sharpsuite, @flmed, @americanedpsycho, @wiinestories, @stainedpast + everyone just steal this

[leggerefiore]

I had an encounter with a neck beard this morning🤮 anyways, how would the twins (and possibly Emin) deal with them after they made s/o uncomfortable?

I interpreted neckbeard as an incel adjacent guy being too pushy, I hope that's correct!

cw: unwanted flirting, uncomfortable situation

~

● You were wandering around the station on your way through to see your boyfriend and for a lunch date. Crowds of people buzzed around the station, hurrying around to whatever platform or exit they needed. It was never not busy at this time of day, and you often had trouble getting through or getting the Subway Boss to take his lunch this early. Somehow, you managed to convince him over the phone to join you, however. With the agreement made, you headed over to meet them.

○ Before you could make it to their office, a guy suddenly stepped in your path and smiled at you with a grin that read extremely fake. He was disheleved in appearance, hair unkempt and unwashed, with a scent that made you feel woozy coming from him. A natural body odour that was sickeningly masked with cheap body spray. “Ah – I see you here quite often,” his voice held a certain tone to it that made you more uncomfortable, “Are you a trainer? I'm one, too. I think it's so cool that you're a trainer.”

● Nervously, you looked around and tried to appear uninterested. “Sorry, I really have some place to be and no time to chat,” you explained and tried to move around him. Instead, he tried to block your path again. You swallowed as he grasped your arm. No one around seemed to be paying attention, and no workers were nearby either. His mouth opened again, but before he could speak…

▲Ingo▼

● “That sort of behaviour is prohibited in the station and within the Unova region in general,” a firm voice called out. Ingo appeared from out of a crowd of people and made long strides until he reached your side. The guy immediately let go, feeling threatened by the unexpected authority presence. The twin was instantly between you and him. “Do I need to remove you from here?” The guy shook his head and ran off into the crowd, clearly dead set to get away from Ingo.

● He bit his lip and debated running after the guy to give him a long, verbal reminder that treating people like that was unacceptable, but you grasped his sleeve before he could. Soft, silver eyes moved to gaze at you, as he realised your extreme discomfort. His hand took yours, and he led you away from the main area into his office. Finally, alone with him, you clung to him desperately as your feelings just simply escaped you. His arms came around as you just remained like that for a moment. Silence was heavy in the air.

● “Ingo…” you managed, “Let's have that lunch, okay?” He nodded and softly pressed a kiss to your cheek. His warmth was a pleasant change alongside the soft smell of coffee and paper that clung to his clothing. “… Of course, dearest,” Ingo gave a rare smile, “Where to?” No one would harass you further with Ingo at your side. You returned the expression at him as he clocked out for his break.

● Emmet stood near the guy on the train with his Galvantula out at his side. A 'friendly' smile played at his lips as he approached him. “Do you normally bother people walking through my station?” he asked while tilting his head. The guy was clearly uncomfortable by the presence of the Subway Boss's proudly bred pokemon. “No, sir,” he shook his head while trying to remain calm. Emmet's grin became cruel. “My brother said you were harassing his partner earlier,” he spoke with no tone in his voice, “Here at the Gear Station, we take harassment verrrrrry seriously. After this trip, you're banned from entering.”

▽Emmet△

○ Rushed steps came at you both before his hand was forced from you. Emmet stood aggressively between you both, brows pressed together as he glared at the man. The guy jumped back from the sudden action of the man. “That's verrrrry bad behaviour,” he spoke with a rare empty tone, “I am Emmet, and I am going to have to ban you from this station.” The guy seemed stunned and taken aback. He ran off into the crowd, but before Emmet could take off after him, you grabbed his arm.

○ “Darling, are you alright?” he asked with an intense tone, “If you are not then I will-” You cut him off by shaking your head. Emmet clearly understood your more subtle emotions for once and set off to take you to his office. It was there that you finally allowed yourself emotional respite, fully aware that the creep was no longer watching. Burying your face into his neck, you let yourself feel comfort in the physical presence of your boyfriend. Emmet embraced you back and rubbed at your back softly.

○ “Emmy… can we go ahead to the bakery?” you asked softly. The twin hummed and nodded. His smile was gentle and comforting, matching his eyes that held tender affection. “Yep,” he giggled, “You always know the best ones in Nimbasa! Let's go!” His gloved hand was warm as he guided you out of the station with a familiar ease. Emmet was quick to spring into action whenever something called him to, so it was only natural the same would apply here. He would always guard you to the best of his given abilities.

○ Emmet found the man later on the last train to a certain station. Sitting down beside him, he could see how the guy tensed up. A smug smile played on Emmet's lips as he rested his head into his hand. “You didn't think I'd leave it at just that, did you?” The twin asked. Shuddering, the guy expected the worst to befall him. A large pokemon blocked his escape attempt with ease, Garbodor clearly unhappy with what he did to you. “Heehee, you're banned from the station.”

▲Emin▽

● A loud voice and fast footsteps broke his contact with you easily. Emin stood protectively in front of you while glaring at the guy. “Such behaviours are disallowed in the Gear Station,” he hissed, “I will have to ask that you either come with me to my office or leave.” Before any more things could be spoken, the guy rushed into the crowds to disappear. The Subway Boss was posed to chase after him, but you grasped his coat sleeve and gave him a pleading look.

○ He took you into his office without any hesitation. You let out a held in breath and clung to him desperately. Emin rubbed your back as you tried to calm yourself from what had just happened. “I'm verrrry sorry that happened,” he apologised, “I hate that people like that are in the station.” You pulled away to gaze into his eye for a moment. Much distress and panic remained there, but you felt much the same. That situation could have gone much worse had it not been for his timely intervention.

● “Em…” you whispered, “I want to go ahead and go if that's alright…” He pressed a soft kiss to your temple and smiled brightly at you. The stoic expression he had used on the creep was gone, which calmed you more. “Of course, my love,” Emin quickly moved to clock out, “Are we trying Elesa's recommendation today?” You nodded and gripped his hand tightly. Emin may seem to switch between emotionally closed off or open, but you were glad he always tried to let you in. With him at your side, you would be safe.

○ Emin smiled as the depot agent escorted the creep into his office. He presented documentation to the man with ease. “You're banned from the Gear Station and its trains," he announced proudly, “If I ever see you here again I will have Haxorus show you the way out.” The creep swallowed as he spotted the large dragon type looking from behind the tired subway manager. There was no choice but to comply with the Subway Boss's orders.

[alarrytale]

Hi Marte. How do you separate the stunts from the people? I really struggle with Harry and Louis' images. It's partly to do with how other people perceive them, like Harry as a homewrecker and womanizer, and Louis as a homophobe. Then they do things to push these images. It's especially hard as a queer fan of Louis since the beginning and seeing how flamboyant and free he was and how proud and confident of his sexuality he was to then going deep into the closet and now people think he is homophobic. It breaks my heart. It breaks my heart that there are artists/actors etc forced in the closet and when ones eventually come out they always talk about how much it damaged their mental health and that they wish they CO earlier as they lost so much time. Because if more public figures CO it would pave the way for others to follow in their footsteps and it would give young lgbtq+s people to look up to, and it would normalize lgbtq+ people in industries like you keep saying. There is everything to gain with it, but the industry is clearly really corrupt and more and more dodgy stuff comes out in the news. It's even worse for Louis because he's saddled with a child that isn't his. Do you think anything will change anytime soon? Some people have CO but it's really far and few between.

Hi, anon!

I seperate the stunts from the people because i know who they really are. I know who they are after observing their behaviour, listening to them and picking up on their silent communication. I filter out the noice which are their lies, attempt at gaslighting and fake personas. I know they're both gay, so i don't listen to anyone who says differently. Like i don't listen to flat-earthers or people who believe trickle-down economics works. They're simply wrong, but there is no point in arguing with them. They don't have the information we do and they don't want to see it.

Since they're both gay they must be closeted. You can’t force anyone out of a closet, even if you feel there are no incentives left for them to stay closeted. I believe they're both forcibly closeted. I don't think L would take advantage of a child like he is to enforce his own closet. If i believed that i would hate him. So i don't think they're closeted by choice. Their behaviour over the years tells me this as well. They are fighting to get to be who they are, but they are prohibited by contracts and old fashioned label views.

Louis is viewed as a homophobe because of his past homophobic statements. But none of the people who view him as such know he's got a triangle tattoo, wore a rainbow apple t-shirt when Tim Cook came out, sings i love him i hate it and bathes his audience in rainbow lights. They also don't know he's closeted and with Harry. They don't know how closeting in Hollywood works, how long they're willing to go to closet someone and how much money is at stake. We know this, and we know the truth.

We also know that H can't be a homewrecker or a womaniser if he's gay. We know he's queercoding and not queerbaiting. We know he wants to show us he's queer and took on the role of a closeted queer man, because he identified with it. We know he has to do things he doesn’t want to do to be able to get more freedom to the things he wants to do. We know it's a balance he has to keep.

When they do stuff in stunts that are unacceptable, i always try to give them the benefit of the doubt. They are good people in an ugly business. No hands are fully clean. But i also call them out when they do unacceptable stuff, because the unacceptable stuff shouldn't be normalised and accepted. I'm not down with blind idolisaton. I tolerate bearding and stunting, but i struggle when they mix it with brand promotion. That i have zero tolerance for. I'll empathise with you for having to drag a woman around to seem straight, but i draw the line at you trying to sell me citrus fruit bikes at the same time and acting bothered by the paps. That's emotional manipulation. Fuck that, no sympathy from me.

I hate both their public images. I don't blame anyone who buys into their images and i agree with the people who critisise their images. If somebody thinks Louis is homophobic or a dead beat dad, or Harry a womaniser or a queerbaiter i think fair enough. Publicly they are. H and L don't get to complain about their images, even though that's not who they are because they are perpetuating them.

I think they deal with their fake images, lies and horrible public behaviour by being open, truthful and honest to themselves, and with their friends and family. I think they're only closeted to the general public. Fandom knows who they truly are and don't buy into their images. If fandom did believe L is homophobic or H a queerbaiter they wouldn't have fans at all, who would be fans of that? Some fans buy into some of their images, but not everything.

I'm not sure when things will change for them, i don't think they have much of a say. Best we can hope for is Sony seeing profit in an out H and L or it's a contract running it's course that will make it possible for them to come out. I have no idea. But things are changing, albeit slowly. Younger music artist are not okay with closeting anymore. It's not neccessary either. Being queer is more and more accepted and normalised. The business is still ugly and people have skeletons in their closets. So it's complicated. If H and L were 10 years younger i think they'd be allowed out.

In the meantime, filter out the noice and try to see them for who they are. They're not perfect people, but they're good people in a difficult situation trying to make the best of things. They will come out one day, we just don't know when.

[spacemonkeysalsa]

God of Ambivalence

A tiefling Artificer splits a large stone on a beach to discover a one handed-wizard inside.

Pairing - OC/Gale & Shadowheart/Lae'zel but there will be more as it goes on.

Read Chapter One on Ao3

Read Chapter Two on Ao3

Read Chapter Three on Ao3

Read Chapter Four on Ao3

Read Chapter Five on Ao3

Read Chapter Six on Ao3

or read Chapter Six, below

Elion awoke on top of the monk’s bedroll, on his stomach, with a pounding in his head. A moment later, he noticed the purring weight of one of Shadowheart’s many cats fast asleep on the small of his back. With a touch of trepidation he started to explore the memories from before he’d fallen asleep. Nothing too wild. He’d talked a lot more than he’d intended—probably disclosed more than was wise about himself, but Xan had an air about him. Something like total non-judgment. It was hard not to talk, pinned under that shameless stare.

The monk had good wine in his pack, better than Elion had found since leaving the gate, but he didn’t have any food. Elion procured a few cuts of cured meats from the kitchens and a small basket of ripe fruit. They’d found a corner where they wouldn’t be bothered, and drank. Elion realized now that in the hours they’d spent together, he’d learned little about Xan. The monk didn’t seem to be keen on talking about himself, though he drew secrets from his companion like water from a well.

It was hard to tell how long he’d slept. He felt rested, but the inside of the sanctum, being mostly underground, didn’t allow in any rays of a theoretical sunrise. It might be midnight.

The only light was the flicker of a nearby torch. 

Xan was asleep as well, stretched out on the ground, still as death, his long golden fingers laced over his chest. Another cat had settled on his stomach for warmth, the same brown tabby with the white paws that had greeted him.

Someone cleared their throat and Elion experienced an unpleasant shudder of surprise. He knew that disappointed tone anywhere. He popped up, felt the cat’s claws dig in, before it leapt away, a pale streak of white, slinking behind the nearest broken tomb.

“Master Faydor.” Elion climbed to his feet. He towered over the master stonemason at his full height, but was still intimidated by the man’s deeply disappointed gaze.

For a human, Master Faydor’s command of stonework was impressive. Most of the best artisans of his trade had the advantages of many more decades to perfect their skills, but Faydor had accomplished much in his seventy years or so. Elion wasn’t his first apprentice, but he would probably be his last, especially considering the look he was receiving from him.

“Unacceptable,” said Master Faydor. “You vanished—vanished.”

“It was a rather strange day—”

“Aye, I gathered most of the story from contextual clues and heard the rest from the cleric. Still, unacceptable. I should have heard it all from you, and then you should have gotten back to work.” For being as old as he was, Faydor was in fair shape. At a glance, he appeared to have an unusual amount of shoulder-width and arm-length compared to the rest of his frame. Down the middle, he was all gray beard and sagging belly. His age creased through every inch of his wrinkled skin, and the milky blue eyes, only recently stripped of cataracts by the cleric’s deft hand.

There was no getting out of excoriation, but there might be a way to postpone it. And maybe soften it with some additional information. “I was attacked by a cambion.”

“What?!” Master Faydor balked.

“I think he’s dead. The wizard thunderwaved him into the ravine, just before the bridge.”

“You think he’s dead?”

“I meant to check. I’m sorry, I meant to do a lot of things.” He didn’t want to try to claim to be overwhelmed, or shocked by all that had happened. He wasn’t sure he was. He just knew that it only felt like a few minutes since he’d split that stone.

“Fine. We’ll see to your castigation later. It sounds like we need to talk to the cleric and the wizard.”

“He’s awake?”

“For a few hours now. He’s in rough shape, but he’s quite coherent.”

A miracle, all things considered.

Master Faydor must be very upset with him, because he didn’t say more. Just beaconed for him to follow and led him straight back to the cleric’s chambers. He didn’t even knock, but opened the door and walked inside, motioning for Elion to follow his lead.

The cleric seemed a little miffed, he thought. No doubt she preferred new arrivals to announce themselves before trespassing. The githyanki was even more visibly annoyed. How could someone hold so still and yet already look like they were in the middle of a vicious battle? 

The wizard was upright, standing by the fireplace mantle behind Shadowheart’s big messy desk and inspecting one of the most interesting things in the room. Elion remembered the feature from his earlier visit. Even in the chaos and medical horror that had ensued, he’d noticed the strange metal contraption that seemed to have a place of honor. The wizard had been drawn to it as well.

But, upon Faydor and Elion’s arrival, he turned away, both arms tucking behind his back. With a pang of sympathy, Elion wondered if that was a habit the wizard was already intentionally developing to hide his stumped arm.

Faydor was right, he looked rough, but only relative to how humans usually looked. Compared to the state in which Elion had found him, the wizard looked great.

“Ah,” Elion gave in to the sigh of relief he felt coursing through his whole body. “Good to see there’s no exaggeration. You look much, much improved.”

“I’m to understand that I owe you my life?” The wizard smiled, but only managed to maintain eye contact for a split second before that smile faltered a little. “Very convenient for you to choose my stone to split.”

“Not so much convenience as contrivance,” Elion admitted. “I was led there by a mysterious creature. Looked like a tiefling girl, but I surmised she was much more than that. Called herself Arabella.”

“Arabella?” Shadowheart perked up.

The githyanki nodded, not so much in recognition, but exasperation. “We know this waif,” Lae’zel confirmed with a huff. “She’s a fine ally, at one time or another. Ceaselessly mischievous. I had no idea she was back in the area.”

“Doesn’t make it a point of announcing herself.” Shadowheart seemed to be struggling with herself. Her arms crossed. She scanned the room, like she suddenly remembered that she was searching for something that ought to be within sight. Her eyes fell on the area around Elion’s ankles.

He looked down to find a pretty white cat. There were many cats in the sanctum. According to Xan, most of them were creatures that Shadowheart had a habit of feeding and keeping a place for by her hearth. This particular cat had pushed aside others to receive attention from both Xan and Elion, interchangeably. And he suspected it was the same creature that had bolted off of his back when he awakened a few minutes ago. 

The cat seemed to recognize that it was being noticed, and rather than slink away, it stepped forward, head and tail high. Rather proud. it dripped in Shadowheart’s direction as she too, approached the animal. “She once spent a tenday as a cat at my old farmhouse and didn’t tell me.” Shadowheart eyed the animal, as though waiting for it to blink.

The cat meowed in response, continuing to stare at her with defiant red eyes.

But, then Shadowheart’s gaze narrowed and slid to the left, towards a dark corner of the room instead. “Oh, Gods!” she started. “Lady of Silver—that’s not amusing, Arabella.” Shadowheart scoffed, then addressed the rest of the room, “she’s not in wildshape. She’s invisible.”

Even as she spoke, Elion saw what had startled Shadowheart. In the corner of the room, the vague presence of the girl was starting to come into focus. She looked as wild as Elion remembered her, but now she had a big satisfied grin on her face.

“It took you so long,” Arabella chided, “I thought for sure you’d see me sooner, with that fancy eye. It was so hard to stay far enough away in this little room.” She sprang forward, and threw her arms around Shadowheart. 

For all her apparent irritation, the cleric relaxed and returned the hug with a weary sigh. “Good to see you, old friend.”

“Good to smell you!” Arabella replied, breathing in deep. “Lae’zel, do you still not hug?”

“When you or I are one day bleeding out on the battlefield, we will embrace.”

“Ah, that’s very sweet!” Arabella pulled away and then approached the wizard at a speed that could only be described as alarming.

He stumbled a little, bumping into the fireplace mantle, and trying to catch himself with a hand that wasn’t there anymore. He cursed but steadied his visibly trembling body.

Not entirely recovered yet then.

“I had to get away from you,” Arabella’s voice took on a strange edge as she addressed him, “I felt it in you, wanting to eat me up. Still there,” she raised a hand, motioning to his chest, “but it’s quiet now.”

“It’s been fed,” the wizard forced the words out with some difficulty, his jaw tight. “It doesn’t… consume people. Just the objects I allow—and it’s a rather personal matter, so I’d rather not—”

“No, no, no,” Arabella’s voice sharpened and she didn’t seem quite so small anymore. “Don’t speak so much, so fast, you keep saying lies and there’s so many of them, I can’t keep up,” she sighed. “It will consume people. It wants to. If you let it free, it will, and you know how much it wants to eat up everything. Everyone. Everyone. So, personal it may be to you, but it’s personal to all of us too.”

The wizard didn’t seem to have a reply to that, his eyebrows were high, his gaze searching. “I have it under control,” he finally said, so soft that it seemed it was only meant for Arabella to hear.

“For now,” she turned away from him. “I’m sorry, to you all,” she held out her arms, “I can feel that you were rather hoping I would just… explain everything,” she shrugged. “I’m afraid I don’t know much.”

“What do you know, Arabella?” it was Lae’zel who asked, and her tone had taken on a particular air. There was some expectation, and something like tested patience. The githyanki woman was the closest to the wizard and to Elion’s slight surprise, she had moved even closer to him, pointedly. It was unclear whether she meant this gesture to be protective or threatening.

“Just that Archdevil Raphael thinks the reason that the Infernal Wars are still going on is because the Crown of Karsus still doesn’t command the full power of the Karsite Weave, as a bit of it got siphoned away about a century ago, and that he thinks if he finds that missing piece—the same missing piece that was used in its inception and taken from Mystral herself—that the crown will be more powerful and that finally no one, not even Mephistopheles will be able to question his authority and the rest of the Archdevils and denizens of hells will finally, finally bow to his power completely and stop trying to oust him—and that that piece of missing Karsite weave is somehow inside of this wizard,” Arabella gestured casually to the subject of her monologue and shrugged. “Raphael is wrong, of course, as usual,” she rolled her eyes. “But not about everything—there is Netherese magic making a comfortable home inside of him,” she gestured at the wizard again, more aggressively. “But aside from that, Archdevil Raphael is wrong about basically everything else.”

Elion followed a rough percentage of Arabella’s explanation, enough to nod along, and to feel very small at the players involved.

The Archdevil Raphael? Gods, that was a bad enemy to have.

But he didn’t know much more than that.

Maybe it was being a tiefling and constantly having to deal with the blowback of all the harm of the hells spreading like devouring hordes of insects, but he’d spent most of his life trying to distance himself from anything to do with the hells and their leadership. Everything he knew concerning the Infernal Wars, raging for the last hundred years, he’d learned against his will. 

Shadowheart and Lae’zel were looking at each other in a strange way that he couldn’t interpret at all. He didn’t know them well enough to make a good guess. But if his life depended on knowing what they were thinking, he’d suppose they must be thinking that this was a) very bad, and b) somehow their fault?

Guilt. That was what he was seeing.

The wizard, though, that look was shame. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to turn away from all of them. But instead, he steadied himself on the mantle with his one hand, gaze fixed at the floor, where the orange glow of the fire danced around his still shadow.

Even Master Faydor seemed bothered, and not even in a general kind of way. His shoulders slumped and he shook his head, meeting Elion’s eyes. “This sanctum is never going to get finished,” he exhaled.

“I’m so sorry,” Shadowheart spoke up. “Arabella—I…” she looked at her, at a loss. She stopped herself from asking a question that was fighting through her features.

Lae’zel shook her head at Shadowheart, though Elion couldn't begin to guess what she was refusing.

“Archdevil Raphael?” the wizard finally spoke up.

“You wouldn't know him,” Shadowheart said heavily, “he rose to power after… After.”

“Hard to imagine anyone with an unknown name rivaling Zariel, Moloch, Lilith, Asmodeous,” he shook his head.

“Raphael hasn’t been an unknown name in a hundred years,” Master Faydor corrected the wizard. He then turned his attention to the cleric, heavy arms laced together in front of his chest. “What do you intend to do?”

Lae’zel was still shaking her head, still refusing some unheard summons. “This doesn’t have anything to do with—”

“It’s our mess,” Shadowheart sighed heavily. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence it’s come back around to bite us. We have to do something.”

“I would speak with you in private.” Lae’zel tensed up, gestured for her wife to follow her as she retreated through the door at the back of the study, presumably, it lead to an even more intimate space.

Arabella scurried after them, though Elion thought it was presumptuous of her to assume an invite. The white cat bound through her swishing ankles and disappeared behind the closed door as well.

Master Faydor turned to Elion with a heavy sigh, “there’s not much more to do. I release you from your apprenticeship.”

“Wait—what?!” Was he really that mad about Elion shirking his duties to get drunk for a few hours?

“I know how to spot the tides of fate coming in. Whatever all this is, will sweep up a few souls. Besides—we both know you were on your way out already.”

Speechless, Elion’s first instinct was to argue, but without the words he just stood there. His master walk out of the study, slowly, weighed down by his years. Surely, he didn’t mean it. He needed to talk to him. Maybe he just needed a few hours to calm down. He shut the door behind him, leaving Elion and the wizard alone in the study.

For a stretch, neither of them said anything. Elion wasn’t sure which of them should feel more humiliated. The wizard’s situation was more dire, but also, there was grandeur to it. Elion simply felt pathetic.

Their eyes met, and Elion nearly chuckled at the perfect pity reflected back at him. 

“Gale Dekarios,” the wizard said softly.

“Elion Stoneshield,” and he did finally give in the chuckle. “It’s a relief to see you off death’s door.”

“I assure you, I’m quite capable of cleaning up a little better than this.” Gale looked down at his stained and ripped wizard’s robes. He was in need of some care, for certain.

“I know we’ve got some extra clothes kicking around here. Could probably find you some soap and a towel too. Water.” He didn’t have his duties to attend to any longer.