#look at me (visage) ↭ sam

[downs1de]

DOWNS1DE EDITS OF: SAM W1NCHESTER-DAVIS ( MUTUALS MAY INTERACT )

[collidingxworlds]

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒

Abigail Hobbs, Number Five, Sam Adams, Anthony J. Crowley, Will Graham, Jim Moriarty, Gabriel Shurley, Will Byers, Brian Moser, Sebastian Moran

tagged by: @hvbris (( thank you x3 )) tagging: @kingofthewebxxx @waywardfeathered @smokedanced @magaprima @rapxir @elisethetraveller @batteredoptimist @the-perfect-scientist & whoever wants to steal it !

[ghstfacr]

𝗝𝗨𝗟𝗜𝗔𝗡𝗡𝗔 𝗪𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗢𝗞 𝗖𝗔𝗠𝗘𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗟 : 11 / ∞ featuring sam winchester ( @ruinedmyself )

— 𝙢𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙨 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 / 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 —

[araneitela]

Character, connections, and verses: (2/2)

[scentedpepper]

Embered Metamorphisis

JASPER HALE X WEREWOLF!GN READER

● gif by @goodomcns

Summary: The aftermath of transfroming into a giant, raging wolf isn't kind to you --yet, your sworn enemy is.

Content Warnings: Uhhhh, descriptions of bones cracking, hair sprouting and such werewolf things.

Other Pairings: Sam Uley x GN Reader, Wolf Pack mentioned, Carlisle and Edward mentioned.

AUTHOR NOTE(S):

Slowly slipping back into my twilight phase...

We didn't get enough struggles of being a quileute shapeshifter content so heres your stuggles of being a quileute shapeshifter content

Yeah I'm changing up my format but does that mean that I'm going back and re editing all 8 parts of leon kennedy series —lol

I have a marvel fic written and I literally have no excuse as to why its taking me so long to edit but yk

Heres twilight instead?

_________________________________________

You pulled your eyelids closer to your waterline, the splash of water against your searing hot face felt dull compared to the tear shaped lava dripping down the curve of your back, meeting at the waistband of your boxers and leaving a sour, pungent smell within the fabric. 

Your body shook with such agony, that had you been the fragile, human-esqu being that you posed as, your bones would have liquified; bones that turned a delicate peach flower shade of cream.

If you looked up into the mirror in front of you, you were sure, at this rate, you'd see steam floating off the very skin that had stretched and molded itself and grew hair the length of a beanstalk all over your body. But this wasn't the pain that tore apart every neuron in your brain, and rendered you to nothing but a shivering, aching mess.

It was something else, and even with your mind so sluggish, so disoriented and tired that you could easily sleep for several days and your stomach, pouring out gurgling noises of bregrudement that you could barely hear over the own ringing in your ears, ached with its hunger.

You seemed to be grunting to yourself, atop the linoleum flooring of your bathroom that you felt as if your feet were burning holes into. You made your own noises out in passing, brief, in and out moments where your ears tuned back to your surroundings. Huffs. Whistling. There was faint cursing.

Stupid. Fuckin stupid. The voice ran through your foggy mind, an echo of rage.

Your entire body shook with such a powerful force, so dolorous in nature, that your eyes held heavy purple bags beneath them. You squinted them ever further closed, yet the light seeped out from the crevices like tears.

You didn't dare look to the light, it'd be like blinding yourself to the sun because everything now was 10 times brighter, clearer, intense. You heard each beat of your pulse right behind your ears, it wasn't as much 'thump, thump, thump' as a constant noise that felt more like you were vibrating.

It was all the more aggravating, all of it.

Your muscles were spasming beneath you and the longer you stood the more you couldn't feel your toes. The longer you locked yourself in your bathroom, huddled into the furthest corner, the closer you felt death crawling along your own skin.

What are you? That question held such power to pull the rug beneath your feet. Objectively, you knew. Sam had crossed borders to ensure you didn't break the treaty anymore than he already was. And your mind held such a haze that not even now you could clearly decipher what exactly had happened.

The haze acted as a wall between your mind and Sam's, even as he commanded you, tumbled with you through the woods, wrestled you to the forest floor, leaves and broken branches caught in your fur as he snapped and snarled above you; he couldn't see clearly what happened. Let alone explain to you the precise point that your wolfy instincts -because apparently that was a thing you held within your very being- reigned.

All you could recall was a few faces.

Jasper's visage, etched with both horror and regret, staring back at you with rubies -as if you were the monster and not him. 

At some point, you could faintly remember him speaking to you from below as his hands fiercely held your snout, telling you to transform back into your usual self. But his face...it spoke volumes at how ready he was to run if not needed, to flee. Like in that moment, the only difference between life and death were the few inches separating you both.

Then there was Carlisle. You don't remember what happened in between but you remembered seeing the struggle in his and Edward's faces as they attempted to hold you down without hurting you and having themselves killed in the process.

With Sam, the memories were clearer, sharper. They kept surfacing like bubbles on a swirly tub.

He too spoke but the difference between him and Jasper was that his were demands, not pleas. 

Each plea was so faint against his normal voice -shockingly enough- and you could always recollect his words like a chanting, mantra of those just told a horrific, traumatizing tale.

 "Concentrate. " Was what he said.

Your name. Sometimes the shortened version with his southern drawl etched in at the edges.

But your bones didn't ease themselves in molding, twisting, grinding back into their shape until Sam got there. More importantly, that uncomfortable heated feeling of hair pushing itself out from your flesh faded to a shiver.

And your faint memories did not aid the man, who you'd previously held an unimaginable grudge against, in easing you into the subject. So, he stuck to what he knew, what he was sure made the most sense to any half-man, half-wolf in your situation. 

Quileute blood. This. That.

Each time you gritted your teeth, clacked them, your canines jarring against each other as he droned on about the treaty, about the vampires, about your time around all of them at once probably being the source of your trigger.

The magic in your blood lit ablaze like gasoline poured onto a pile of wood inside of you. And you didn't understand. Wouldn't for a while until you were coherent, not like this. But the idea of you simply being the one to blame had your mouth pursing shut, biting hard enough to draw that salty copper smell across your tongue.

Subjectively, as you stood in your bathroom, eyelids stapled shut, brain still muddled, body hotter than hot itself. Shaking. Teeth, sharper than usual, still dug painfully into the open wound in your mouth, pulling your lips back harshly.

You didn't know what to call yourself.

Werewolf.

Shapeshifter.

Monster.

They all seemed to mean the same thing.

Vampire.

Cold ones.

Blood sucker.

Those all meant the same too.

Enemy.

Your heart stung at that; painful. Sharp. There was something wet coming down your cheeks but you didn't acknowledge it. Barely registered the sound of your bones cracking from inside, the stretch and pull as tendons and ligaments reformed to shape your humanoid form.

Your teeth didn't let go of your lip as your body continued to reform itself in the correct places, your feet dirtied from the bottoms after you stalked through the woods behind your house, naked and scathed from your only 3rd transformation in counting.

You were not yet adjusted, that much was obvious as the rest of the wolves watched you stumble into your home before you were out of sight. Not because they could smell your shame or the pain you were in, not because your face was still smeared with mud and slobber. But because something struck their ears just then, the sound loud enough to echo from miles behind you and they recognized it for what it was.

A whimper. Pain, so visceral and agonizingly immense you almost keeled forward and gasped for air as soon as the shuddery whine passed.

You'd found your bedroom floor before you clung to the bathroom sink as you were now, the bite doing little but help rid the bitterness and tang on your tongue. The pit of your stomach tightened for a moment as your ears began picking up on your mother's soft shuffling noises and you could tell her exact location, how she fidgeted around on the couch.

But you were again drawn back into yourself and the memories seemed to flash once more as your body convulsed and twisted, feverously hot and unbearably sticky. But each pain felt like pure acid seared against a wound.

There were some parts that you noticed as things changed within your entire human psyche. For instance, the room, your room, smelled differently; it tasted differently. Your eyes, what were usually able to scatter quick glances about yourself yet it came off as completely relaxed and indifferent, your pupils darted as if you had a million things to look at.

This time, your lungs felt small, compressed and with that came each bit of scent the bathroom provided. All of it.

The hint of floral perfume that resided with your sister, most likely used the bathroom beforehand.

The watered-down aloe essence of a bottle of SPF that you guessed to be your brothers because it was strong, closer than the rest.

Then the sweetness of your mother's strawberry cream soap she splashed onto her hair in the morning and onto her skin not long before her eyes were drooping.

The musk of cologne, the sweatiness from the summer night. Some aftershave and others, toothpaste. The mint lingering from it assaulted your olfactories like the taste of charcoal briquettes did your dry throat.

It was everything all at once yet, each scent, noise, sight, touch was distinct. Picked out and pinpointed. You could hear your own heartbeat. You could hear how loudly the door caved a centimeter in its frame when the air from the fan swirled into the vent.

And when the sink began to crumble under your grip it was loud, deafening. A tidal wave and snap made entirely of your own anger. You couldn't bear to look in the mirror. You couldn't bear to lift your head and see a monster looking back at you.

You'd been in this state for hours, every minute, every single second, you could feel the warmth of the blood pumping through your veins, moving each muscle slowly, one by one. You knew the bone structure had settled as you curled in on yourself, facing the wall by the sink.

For the first half hour -though to you it felt like two- your mother had banged against the door, concerned by the slight creak and the heat you emitted through it. She cursed, cried. Stomped. After a while it became nothing but background noise to your ears, the vibrations going ignored against the center of your back, directly underneath her hand.

You heard her steps across the floor and the buzz of the phone line and then Sam but the searing hot pain encapsulating your muscles blocked you from hearing what he was saying; the only two words you picked up was 'let' and 'normal'. In short, he was barking reassuring sentences that were more mumbled than articulated in your ears.

More importantly, you could faintly sense just how long Sam had been on the line with your mother. Time kept going and the more it did, the clearer everything was from the white paint chipping off the door frames, to the noises in your own body.

But the heat never ceased, you couldn't find any salve that stenched and wouldn't flare your instincts even further, and any attempt to scratch yourself in frustration and ease the sting left a burning in your arm and no relief.

You were hot.

Hot.

Wet.

Hot and wet and burning.

You were burning, literally burning. Every nerve, every bit of skin was put on a sensitive scale against the brightest scalding iron fire and it fucking hurt. It fucking hurt so much, the longer it went on, and the longer it did go on, the quicker the seconds ticked by and you dripped and dripped in sweat and you couldn't seek any salvation of cold even as you continue to drown your face, your hair, your seething skin in cold water.

Your body reacted in the worst possible ways, taking every inch of your willpower to not lash out at your family members as they fussed over you in complete and utter worry, turning up the AC to arctic like degrees as they all bundled underneath quilts and heavy sweaters as the rain pattered harshly against the metal roofing.

It took an angry snarl, snapping from your teeth clacking together aggressively in the general direction of your family as their constant pacing, their buzzing over your conditions that they had finally settled. Tried to act like you weren't being tortured by your own cells, membranes, nerves and veins.

Your muscles cramped on multiple occasions in their adjustment and every time, Sam would be through the screen door, speaking loudly over the crashing of thunder and lightning, spouting off nonsense to assure you that, 'it gets better with time, it'll pass, focus on what it feels like to transform back faster'.

And you would cry out to him in rage, telling him to leave, go back home, to shut up, that this was his fault, his doing, and, for a moment, you seemed to scare yourself with just how animalistic your words were, sounding more like a literal wolf than actual human speech.

He was wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong. 

All wrong.

This shouldn't be happening.

With nothing to help ease the pain, you'd found yourself, wrenching the knob of the faucet off of the handle and it had shattered with a small zap that you felt against your searing hands.

Again, your body convulsed, your muscles twitched and you heard a shriek in your ears at the piercing stab, the fire that licked your insides in a vicious inferno.

You sat against the flooring of the tub, breathing quick and wheezy, knees bent upward as your arms wrapped around yourself.

Hot. Hot. Hot.

It was always hot.

It was so hot.

So fucking hot that you didn't hear the slight creak of the door opening. Or the light footsteps that moved behind you.

Burning, burning, burning. 

The freezing water felt like pebbles poking at your flesh until you could feel the fat beneath your skin being boiled.

You swallowed thickly, hard around the growl gathering in your throat.

Though you were drowning in what would normally feel comfortable and ease the fever swelling your skin, leaving it hot to the touch, instead it felt the same; you held no relief.

But this had worked before, or the pain eased enough that you were able to think without feeling your mind split.

On those occasions, you'd have a single moment of coherent thought before your body began trembling from an aching heat that came over you like a summer fog.

Last night had been the worst of it. Unbearable. Intense. It made your stomach do flips, threatening to spill out what little contents there were. Not even two hours ago you retched up a gallon of stomach acid, black tar-like muck. You shook through another shiver.

Ceramic shards clung to your nails like glue.

You had no care for them as you pressed your face into your knees, hoping, yearning that the water from the shower would return you back to how things were. How they should be. Normal. 

A body that wasn't sore, seething. Uncomfortable.

Normal skin. That didn't catch every hue of light in the bathroom or smelled like nothing but the strong detergent used to wash away the bloody pieces of bark from the night before.

You remained with your eyes screwed shut, but you felt how quickly they blinked with need for more water. A need for something below freezing. 

You waited.

Hoped.

Prayed.

You wished so hard on your breath that what was supposed to be a chilled drip instead fell like globs of goo, coating your head and shoulder blades.

You waited.

Waited.

Waited.

Each second ticked and like yesterday, everything was loud again. 

You heard the shower curtain crinkle slightly under the water falling freely atop you, it also made an abstract splattering sound as it hit the floor tiles but no longer fell in waves of droplets like it did before, no longer providing the soft chill to your inflamed skin.

Waited.

Waited.

Waited.

For your body to cooperate.

To fix itself.

You shouldn't have had to focus.

Focus.

Focus.

Focus.

That's the one thing that rattled your brain, pulled back and forth between each, as Sam continued with that word; he spat it out to you like it meant everything, like it should have you focusing. Yet.

Nothing.

Your muscles had ceased in the cramping but you assumed that was the first step in returning to normal.

It was still hot.

Furiously hot.

A raging wildfire.

Tears swam down your cheeks, across your lips, dipping in your mouth and clacking against your teeth and you remained as a lump of nothing in the dark room.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

It wasn't the water that did it for you.

It was the loud, bitterly cold, small and circular patch of coolness that soon turned to multiples that struck you. You didn't feel it at first, couldn't decipher what it was you felt, but all the same, you tensed up.

Focused.

Focused.

Focused.

In annoyance, your muscles rippled and it put a gasp in your chest as the ice chips -or so they felt like- clanked in onto your back.

Ice. 

Someone was putting ice on you.

Someone was touching you.

Someone who wasn't Sam.

It wasn't your mom.

And they were speaking. 

But you couldn't hear. 

Couldn't make your ears focus just on the voice.

Couldn't force your neck to twist and look as the muscles spasmed beneath the movement.

You couldn't find who spoke to you as they ran their fingers softly along your back.

From your neck and spine to the small of your being.

You couldn't make out a simple sentence either.

You couldn't make out what had happened moments before, only that the water was ceasing and your body was scorching again at the lack, only to abruptly lower to a simmer when you felt something enveloping you entirely. Something cold.

Something that must have smelled familiar yet, sickeningly sweet.

Softer than the air moving around, swishing and swaying as the curtain slid back further.

Something soft.

Something familiar but not quite within your reach yet.

You could almost remember it but in doing so your head began to pound.

Everything was loud; if it weren't you were almost certain that it would be deafening.

But then, with the last drag of each blink, you could feel the anger in you being gradually drowned out by something else, something unfamiliar. An intruder. It made your body jerk, jerk away from the cold source of salvation, jerk from the very thing that was keeping you grounded and your memory on track to forming; it made you feel weak in doing so and at the same time, scared, horrified, but calm. It put you at ease.

Almost.

And again you could smell a sweetness that flooded your nostrils and set the hairs inside teetering away from the rot, the decay. Your body jerked again. Instinctively. Out of your control.

But the cold, the cold that you slowly came to recognition with, held you firm. Limbs they were. Your vision was clouded in and out but they were limbs. Chiseled, scarred arms that felt like an ice statue come to life. Pressed so tightly against you that you began to slack. You began to hear.

"There we go... That's it..." A voice cooed softly, a dulcet soothing tone that rocked through the room and filled your ears; smooth, deep and enticing.

You swallowed harshly, a snarl stuck in the pit of your gut that stung and left you winded the moment your eyes were directed upwards. Your sight blurred instantly but the more you blinked they began to regain life. The wolf of you was being pushed further beneath the surface and the whine of protest inside went ignored for a few seconds.

"Breath and just relax. "

It was him.

Jasper.

It was Jasper.

And this time you could get a better look of him.

There were two, thick lines between his eyebrows that pushed and bulged the skin as he stared down at you in concentration, as if he were attempting to figure out the world's greatest puzzle.

His pupils were a hazy gold.

Almost a yellow.

A pale yellow, mixed with orange.

Red orange.

Almost sunset like.

"It's just me. " Jasper spoke quietly. So quiet, so gentle. Unlike his kind. Something stirred and growled inside you but in doing so Jasper's shoulders tensed and his eyes were narrowed just the slightest. "Just me. " His voice came and wafted.

You hadn't the strength to pick your limp body off of him, only to relish in the cool feeling of his skin against you and when he saw the dark pools of your black eyes clear from the threatening growl the lines above his eyebrows disappeared.

Some sort of moment had passed, a moment where he seemed to have returned to a child-like manner and focused in on you to the best of his capabilities.

"You're burning up. " A cold finger against the heat at your forehead and you jerked back but not roughly enough to leave his arms. Though the wince on your face did. 

For the first time since your eyes adjusted, you met his gaze.

Slightly crumbled, Jasper's face relaxed as he offered a slow nod. "Healin' nicely. "

That's right, healing. You hadn't noticed that they were sore until he mentioned it. Scars along your face were slowly going away. "It shouldn't leave a mark. "

But what concerned you was how rough your skin felt. There was a sharp stinging as you slowly relaxed against him, and it stung like needles, and prickled like spines and thorns, the feeling was still dulled despite his cold flesh and the layer of cloth between his and your nearly-bursting skin.The white button up shirt was completely drenched, droplets slid off of the stark creams like shimmering diamonds.

"It's hot. " Was all you could get out, voice hoarse, grating against your tender flesh, torn and pulled in dozens of different directions. You wondered if talking was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Your instincts bubbled to the surface but never quite breached to the point where you snapped and growled.

"I know. " You heard the drop in his throat, the way his breath rolled with his mouth and he bent forward, hand to your forehead, through your hair, pushing the wet strands away from your face.

He watched you intently, gaze scanning for signs that gave hint to your pain.

You closed your eyes tight but his hand slipped lower, down your cheek, and coming to just about your chin. His hand cradled you, making a cold burning under your bones, under your flushed flesh and a wave of want spilled over you that you couldn't wipe away.

"I didn't know it was like this. "  It was a whisper.

Your jaw hurt but you tilted to look at him more clearly. It was his touch. His hand.

"This wasn't what I felt from you when you first changed. "

"This is the aftermath. " Another voice. Booming. Louder than his. Slightly indifferent. And both your neck and head pounded painfully as you snapped to see the owner. It was Sam. Standing in the doorway.

Your mind cleared. "You shouldn't be here. " You choked on the second word. Heard a rumble in your head but it subsided when Jasper's large, cold hand pressed firmer to your cheek, bringing you back against him.

He was so soft to you. Too soft.

Sam addressed you. Tone even. "It's forgiven. " His eyes cross Jasper's. 

"Just make sure the boys don't find out. " He paused. Thinking. Then. "Be careful. " He repeated. Sam turned to take his leave. His tall frame filled the doorway almost entirely with his size but you thought nothing of him leaving, as there was yet another tremor in your stomach.

Pain, a horrible stabbing type of pain, began shooting from underneath your skin like needles and for a second you forgot of Jasper's existence, forgot of your situation, and curled into yourself in hopes the pain would go away.

It was then you felt his hands encase you, one of your shoulder blades, the other pressing to the small of your back. His fingers dug into the bare flesh and you held onto that as you shook. He felt how the veins rippled the flesh around them and an ache came to him as he reached and tugged you up, the material of his clothes catching against the shower curtain when you finally, after several minutes, allowed Jasper to pick you up, your body pressed entirely to his, and he whispered to you with his usual calmness, brushing away your hair that dripped, and gently told you to breathe.

"In and out. "

If it weren't for the fog swarming your better judgment, you might have found your resolve, snapped and jumped at the sweet gesture. But nothing was going to fight through the high fever, and aching, pungent sting from the very needle pricking every inch of your skin at once.

Jasper tried again.

"Just breathe. "

You sucked air, a short gasp and it was like broken glass sliding down your throat. Painful and nauseating but the moment Jasper's skin dug deeper into your body, holding you tighter than before, easing his embrace by stroking a cold hand along the length of your arm and slipping further downward.

"In and out... Slowly. "

The burn on your skin stopped abruptly and you heard him say "there" but it felt weird.

At ease, the moment you began breathing slowly, his cold digits like magic against your arm, traveling gradually, in circles, all the way up to the bend of your neck and just the very corner of your jaw, and then falling to your thigh and repeating the same motion. It was soothing. Like your muscles didn't know what to do with themselves.

"Are you better? " The voice bounced against his chest and you weren't quite sure how, but you managed to nod, the action causing the world to spin. Jasper nodded back at you, gaze in that constant look of concern, as if he'd never been worried a day in his life. "Do you want to stay here or do you want me to take you somewhere else?"

A low and rather aggressive growl surfaced in the back of your throat and you felt your limbs all come to a standstill and tremble. Jasper's body tensed as he looked to you. All the muscles that were massaging the sting in your body hardened, no longer soft as you wanted.

"Alright, " his eyes didn't waver from you and the golden depths had you staring, he swallowed and sighed out a heavy breath, "it's just me again. Remember that. Okay? Only me. " His voice rumbled his chest and made you feel comfortable again, easy, the boiling in your bones all began to settle.

Still, that anger you felt inside continued with that growl that made him ever so tense, ever so weary. You could feel his body lean back, situating into the curve of the tub. "I'm alone. " Jasper whispered now, lowering his head to yours, cheek to your forehead and your eyelids slid half-way down, pupils dilating just the slightest, "Breathe. " He said. "Deeply. " The tip of his cold nose brushed along the space of your skull and for a moment it appeared as if he contemplated his actions but continued on.

There you could smell the strength of his scent with an underlying sweetness to his dead flesh, the scent of a vampire; still, you didn't jump or shove him off. And he exhaled the biggest breath you had ever seen a vampire take.

He did this several times, took several deep, calming breaths. As if it were to sedate your beast within, that monstrous, ravenous hunger that lay buried beneath the confines of your now flesh and bones, but far beyond control of your own.

Eventually you caught the air without it stabbing into your lungs like those needles and his arm moved to become wrapped, almost entirely, completely around your chest, and pulling you firmer to him, moving from the crook of the bath to the center of the room, sliding in a motion so inhuman and smooth, past the wash rack and the closet, to the wall, leaning your sore back against the plaster. You leaned. Not just leaned, but collapsed against him as your body relaxed.

So strange, so inhumane and entirely disgusting at the fact that a vampire, an immortal, the vilest, putrid stench to nature, could make you feel so comforted, so tranquil, and ease all the pains you had felt.

As if the moon had begun shifting its cycle of phases while in his arms, you found yourself staring into his eyes, watching the shadows of darkness become your savior.

The pressure in your head was gone, the aching and pinching in your bones were coming to a comfortable stand still, leaving you numb in parts, and full of an incredible urge to drift off into the darkness, where you felt more... At ease.

Jasper's gaze swept over your flushed features and he slowly reached to push the loose strands of hair from your face, fingers caressing your cheek bone and over the prickled skin on your neck and slowly, down to your left shoulder.

Your collar bone.

"Is it any better?" A whisper to your ears. Rough, jagged along his cold tongue and you fought the urge to show your teeth back.

"Yeah. " It was the first word that came to you, coherent, but the word itself sent a sharp pain up the muscle and you winced visibly. Jasper's eyes searched your face once more but never directly met yours. 

When your heart began spazzing for his affection, you bit your tongue.

"Don't try to talk anymore. Rest. " His voice was soft and the muscles below your flesh rippled as he acted as a crutch on the way to your bedroom. It was at the end of the hall and to the right.

At the door his nose wrinkled, as did the skin along his upper lip, but he said nothing of the burning smell of wet dog.

His steps were swift as he carefully positioned himself through the threshold.

You stumbled to your mattress and fell weakly at the foot of it, Jasper's grip loosening and fingers unfurling from your flesh.

You settled into the cooled sheets and watched him intently as he carefully closed the door behind him. You only lifted your torso and crawled on your knees up to the pillows and got lost in there. They hid your flushed, irritated body against the rough surface.

Jasper stood for what felt like a long time near the door, standing by your closet and watched. You were too exhausted to think, it was nearing the start of daylight outside, and your eyes shut involuntarily, each blink longer than the last.

You were so tired but the anger persisted even when sleep took you. You dreamt not.

Unintentionally, you fell asleep.

For Jasper, however, he stood for several minutes just staring at your still body.

All was quiet and peaceful, the world outside was just wakening with the sounds of the birds, and the leaves were still, unmoving, but the air was dry. Just a couple of hours ago and this same place was like a cave. Smelling of beasts, of fur and musk, the woods themselves had a strong scent in this area, yet it changed suddenly.

To normalcy. And he wasn't quite sure how he felt, what the rest of the family, of his brothers and sisters, his mother and father would say when he returned smelling of dog.

The type of dog that sought to cease their existence. 

Their natural doom.

The very dog that'd nearly tore their heads from their bodies days prior. 

However, being this close to you and noticing the increase in hormones among all other smells, though, for the most part, the odor was horrendous, more specifically, that you were feeling better, not dying or in any more pain, was enough for Jasper to ignore anything else.

[9haharharley1]

I've been wanting to write big spooky spider-Vlad for @fangdum for ages, but it's not turning out how I want it to so far, so have a tease!

---

Danny could feel the same choking, nauseating fear he felt then, breathless as the wind was knocked out of him when he hit the ground, fingers digging into the dirt and clawing desperately at the ground as he was dragged back. Sam and Tucker ran to him, barely managing to grab an arm each, pulling with all their might to drag him back, Danny kicking helplessly at the thing with his free leg.

But the creature, the monster, the demon, was stronger than three puny humans, and Danny felt their grip slipping as sweat beaded their skin until he slipped completely from their hands. Terror, all-encompassing, white hot, bone chilling terror consumed him as his vision went black on his friends' pale, horrified faces, and he was consumed by the flames.

"Get away from me!" he shouted at the shadow, pulling at his binds with all his might. The substance trapping him only seemed to cling to his skin even more, Danny accomplishing nothing more than working up a sweat. He couldn't look at the shadow, couldn't watch as it climbed further up the wall, merging with the shadows on the high ceiling, only to drop back into view near his feet. He had the brief, horrifying notion that it was going to eat him feet first, watch the terror and light fade from his eyes as he was slowly devoured whole for the monster's enjoyment. He tried to kick at it, but his jeans and shoes remained firmly trapped in soft steel, limiting his movement severely. "Back off!" he tried again, even as spasms of fear racked his body. "I'm warning you!"

The clicking tapered off, a low rumble starting in its place. The sound had Danny shaking, the monster looming ever nearer, until he could make out what sounded... like laughing?

His brow furrowed, his arms still trying to pull free to no avail, but he squinted his eyes, trying to see past the dim light to the silhouette in front of him.

"How cute," a low, rumbling voice, like gravel and smoke, dark and silky, spoke from the shadow. Danny ceased his struggles, unable to do more than gulp in fear. "You are warning me? My dear boy, I feel that I must remind you that it is you who are caught in my web."

The shadow moved closer, and Danny's breathing failed him as his heart threatened to beat out of his chest.

A face, monstrous and human all at once, was revealed to him in the fractures of pink light glinting off the walls. Danny stared with wide, terrified eyes, as a the creature stared down at him, it's head easily as big as his torso, mouth wide and smirking with a row of sharp teeth glinting in the light, two prominent incisors digging into its lower lip. It's ears were long and pointed, hair falling like a blackened waterfall behind him, loose strands falling over strong human shoulders and a muscular chest. From under it's jaw were two large, long fangs, tapping away at the air as though just waiting to sink their points into soft human flesh. It's eyes were bright and pupil-less, glowing red in the dim dark with three smaller eyes on each side under the two larger human-shaped ones. All eight of them watched Danny with a kind of hunger that made his struggles renew with a vengeance.

The creature moved closer, Danny barely able to make out a skittering in the dark when it moved, until it's monstrously large head hovered over him, smirking. "Poor little fly," it murmured around gravel and smoke. Danny swallowed thickly, unable to look away from its terrifying visage. "Caught in my lovely web and unable to get away. What do you think of my parlour, little fly?"

A big hand swept over the dark space, tipped with deadly black claws. Danny's eyes followed it. Now that his head was clear of the haze, he could make out just enough of his surroundings to see that he was in a cavern of some kind. It was damp with moss and water, shimmering strings of white silk much like what he was wrapped in draped about the walls. There wasn't much to look at in the dark, save for the creature towering over him, and his gaze soon found eight gleaming red eyes.

"C... Could use s-some curtains," Danny muttered weakly.

[the-broken-truth]

Shattered Fragments [3] - [Papa Crewel] [Big Brother Sam] [Enma Yuuken/Male Yuu]

Summary: It's Yuuken's First Day back to class after his accident, his friends are eager to see him but are they prepared to see him once again?

[History of Magic Class]

Mozus Trein spoke in his nonchalant voice as he wrote along the board with chalk as he taught his class; the sounds of pens against paper as the students took their notes for future assignments or upcoming tests. Lucius purred as his master held him close to his chest while watching the students with uninterested golden eyes; uninterested but focused eyes that scanned the classroom to make sure there wasn't anyone sleeping, he did oh so love swatting the heads of students who weren't paying attention or sleeping in class. When he didn't see any slackers, he lowered his eyes to take a small cap nap, that was when a certain rule-breaker of Heartslabyul exhaled and ran a hand through his ginger hair before looking at his blue-haired cohort.

"I never knew class would be this boring with Yuuken and Grim around." Ace groaned as he looked over to Deuce.

"Considering that Yuuken holds all the brain cells between the 4 of us, Grim included, it's kinda understandable why you want him around. I miss him too; class is not the same without him and Grim around." Deuce said as he looked over at the empty seat beside him that Yuuken normally occupied.

"He's supposed to come back today, isn't he? I overheard Professor Crewel telling Professor Trein that Yuuken was going to be attending class...but then he started talking about Trein's Grandson..." Ace said, causing Deuce to look at him with confusion dancing in his eyes.

"Professor Trein has a Grandson? I didn't know that." Deuce said

"Yeah, Professor Crewel was telling him to forgive his grandson for being late. I wonder what he was talking about." Ace said with a raised eyebrow while scratching the side of his head with the end of his Magic Pen. Deuce opened his mouth to speak when the door opened and a familiar voice rang out.

"Forgive me for being late! I got slightly lost in the halls after being discharged and dismissed."

Yuuken! He had returned!

Ace and Deuce turned their heads to see their friend's face for the first time in a week but their eyes widened upon falling upon Yuuken's Visage, something was very wrong; starting with his clothes.

Yuuken wasn't wearing the school uniform he arrived at Night Raven College with, nor was he even wearing a Night Raven Uniform. The Prefect of Ramshackle was dressed in a custom-made designer suit that mirrored that of Divus Crewel; from the black and white vest, the black dress shirt underneath, and the red tie around his neck and tucked away under his collar. He wore black dress pants with a black belt and black shoes; he was even wearing red gloves! All he was missing was the massive fur coat and pointer stick with a collar attached to the end.

Yuuken started walking down the stairs to reach Trein's Desk when Ace and Deuce made another shocking discovery: Yuuken's once coal hair was now tainted with white - The Traditional Crewel Family Trademark, the only difference to Divus' was that the color positions were reversed. Yuuken's top was black while his sides and back were dyed white. He looked like a spawn of Crewel!

"I hope you have a decent reason for being late to my class on your first day back since your accident, Yuuken." Professor Trein said in a stern voice while looking at Yuuken with a stoic face; however...why did he call Yuuken so casually? Yuuken looked like a scolded puppy before reaching to the satchel around his shoulder and pulling out a piece of paper, handing it to the professor.

"Please, forgive me, Grandfather; I didn't mean to be late but Father wanted to make sure I remembered critical things for the upcoming tests." Yuuken said, causing everyone's jaws to drop at what Yuuken just said. Trein looked at the paper before exhaling and handing it back to Yuuken before stroking Lucius' fur.

"I shall forgive you this time since you are recovering from serious injury and your Father asked me to be lenient with you upon returning, however, do not make a habit of this, Grandson. Am I clear?" Trein asked.

"Your words are clear s crystal, Grandfather. Once again, I am sorry." Yuuken said as he bowed his head in respect to Trein, causing the older man to exhale and pet the top of Yuuken's Head.

"You are forgiven, Grandson; now, take your seat and start taking notes. They are critical for the upcoming exams." Trein said. The Prefect of Ramshackle nodded before petting Lucius between his ears, causing the cat to purr before Yuuken withdrew his hand and walked up the stairs to his usual seat; he didn't even say hello to Ace and Deuce, just pulled out his notebook and started copying the notes on the board and new notes that Trein started writing again. The shock of the class slowly wore off and everyone started taking notes once again, except for Deuce and Ace, who just stared at the Prefect for the remainder of the class.

When the bell rang, Yuuken gathered his notebook and placed it in his satchel before walking away before being stopped by someone calling his name; he turned to see Ace and Deuce standing behind him.

"Yes? Is there something I can help you with?" Yuuken asked.

"Yuuken, what the heck is going on with you?!" Ace asked.

"I beg your pardon?" Yuuken asked with a raised eyebrow.

"What Ace means to say is that you are acting rather strange. You are dressed like Professor Crewel, you called Professor Trein Grandfather, and...where is Grim?" Deuce asked.

"Grim is currently with my father, he needed some help with getting things in order for Ramshackle to have repairs done to it and Grim wanted to go with him. I'm not used to not having him with me but I can understand he needs a break sometimes too." Yuuken smiled.

"Your Father? Who is your father?" Ace asked.

"What are you talking about, Ace? You know that my Father is Divus Crewel. You've been one of my closest friends along with Deuce since I arrived here and you don't even remember my father's name?" Yuuken said but just caused Ace and Deuce to shout in unison.

"WHAT?!"

"Please, do not yell. You will cause me to get a headache." Yuuken said.

[END]

[woundlingus]

Gabriel moments that make me ragingly feral (2)

We get like the tiniest little hit of vulnerability from Gabriel after he’s just been done sitting in the car being yelled at by Dean about family and duty and love, and sure he’s Dean Winchester but you know Gabriel looks at them and sees his brothers, so you could imagine it a little more like Michael snapping at Gabriel that he’s hiding instead of fighting for the family and the people he loves.

Lucifer is coming, he is going to kill everyone you care about whether it’s now or if Gabriel chooses to sack up and do something about it.

There’s something special to me about the relationship between Dean and Gabriel because he addresses the elephant in the room almost immediately. They’re the same, in a great many ways, and that does give Dean the edge to play the moral superiority card here because at this point Dean isn’t talking out of his ass at Gabriel about “doing the right thing” he instead meets him where he is. Family. Your family is inside that building, and they’re going to die.

It is scary, and we’re left on a very despondent scene of Gabriel sitting alone in silence. I’d argue it’s a top contender for saddest Gabriel scenes ever, beat out only by him crying when Lucifer stabs him- but that’s a disgenuine scene in hindsight whereas this scene in the car is all genuine where for the first time we actually get to see Gabriel without an audience. Dean turns his back to leave, and Gabriel reaches out for him. Too coward to say anything the moment passes and he’s forced to sit in silence without the mask on and confront what’s actually happening for the first time.

Maybe he really can’t save Michael and Lucifer. But he can save “Michael” and “Lucifer” (and I don’t mean Sam 👀). He’s not as helpless as he’s let himself believe, actually, he can do a lot just not the one thing he wants most so he previously decided he won’t do anything at all then. Here, he’s forced to confront that, and change something even if it’s profoundly terrifying because of what Gabriel does stand for is love to the detriment of his character then he can also decide to make a change for the exact same motives.

But for a moment, he’s not Loki he’s Gabriel, and the man in front of him flickers between being some asshole mortal and the holy visage of his brother, and he doesn’t want him to go.

Surprise, it’s also (3)

Why am I doing two in one? Well they’re part of the same episode and I think it’s a fun little draw together of the two scenes! Because we’ve already had “Michael” turning up for Gabriel in the car scene with Dean where he’s chided and given a more tough love approach to the situation at hand, and here we have Kali just before that scene with Dean.

To refresh your memory, here in this scene Kali is telling Gabriel that if anyone gets the end the world it’s her personally. Now I don’t know enough about her religion to get into that, but I am going to play into the narrative within Supernatural and it’s Kind Of Problematic but because that’s what the show does, I’m gonna point it out. The show centers around Christianity, obviously. Who else is a world ender? Lucifer.

We have Gabriel and “Lucifer” here. Sweet love, there’s an almost childlike way Gabriel has handled the situation with Kali where he loves her and he believes that she loves him and that’s enough to make a difference here and she won’t hurt him because in a simple world it would! Except she’s not that kind of person, and neither is Lucifer, but Gabriel still doesn’t get that- or doesn’t want to believe in it. Gabriel’s being sweetened, doted on with affection that’s rather patronising. He’s being talked down to here, and he still watches her adoringly. In the end, he’s stabbed with every intention of delivering a killing blow, love is not a factor in this equation because Gabriel is not on Kali’s side.

Gabriel is not on Lucifer’s side, and he can believe in loving his brothers all he likes and in the end it isn’t going to save him. Lucifer is going to strike him with every intention of killing him dead.

Uncoincidentally, Gabriel wriggles his way out of both situations in exactly the same manner. So when RSJ talks about that phone call immediately post hammer of the gods to tell him he’s not dead, this was it! He’s already shown us how he’s going to do it!

Conclusion?

Though I’m not implying any of this on a shipping level, personally for me it’s too shallow of an interpretation to take on such a complex and deep rooted issue on loss, grief and abandonment, you can have fun with this in whatever ways you see fit if you wanna give that guy psychosexual intimacy issues. I personally see it more as Gabriel being unable to grieve, I would argue he’s not even consciously aware of the choices he’s making here because that guy really wants to believe he hates his brothers. But it’s that bitter hatred that keeps him from seeing the truth of his reality, and it keeps him from grieving, keeps him chasing that same dynamic and playing it again the exact same way subconsciously to cling to the deep loss he’s suffered and refuses to acknowledge- to the extent of erasing his own entire selfhood in the hopes of erasing his family along with him. It’s that same naïveté from my last post that’s got him playing out ANOTHER scenario over and over again hoping that if he does just love enough maybe it’ll be different. It’s not. It never will be. He can’t face that.

I don’t think it’s an accident that the people Gabriel draws in the most in his personal life are reflections of the family he misses deeply, and Sam is not a true reflection of Lucifer in any sort of capacity outside of birthright so I simply don’t factor him in here. A guy can claim he’s a runaway and wants nothing to do with his scumbag older brothers, but from where I sit it looks like he misses them an awful lot more than he’d be willing to admit to himself. Here is also where I conclude any Michael=Dean parallels in regards to Gabriel because I don’t think late seasons Dean when we see him again with Gabriel is even remotely the same man and his quest with Gabriel is solely of a selfish nature, there’s nothing Michael or brotherly about him to draw on in those conversations whereas everything Dean says to Gabriel, however cruel, do reflect the larger plot and Gabriel’s internal struggles and ultimate helps him define and better himself under that guidance. But it was cute while it lasted <3

[literaryfandomangel]

The Promise Chapter Four

Chapter Four

"Whoa!" The person I ran headfirst into grabbed hold of my elbows. They were trying to make sure that I didn't fall onto my butt, but I flinched back from their touch and the feeling of bubbles under my skin. I squeezed my eyes shut, a reflex at this point. The person noticed with a sharp inhale. They were sure they could deduce the reasoning behind that reflex but decided not to bring it up. "Are you okay?"

I opened my eyes after a moment, moving out of their reach. I plastered on a smile, tilting my head back to see the person I had inconvenienced. He had kind, honey-colored eyes and long brown hair (long even by 80 fashion standards). His hair fell like a wave of obsidian in the dark light, natural highlights glinting in the overhead lights. I noticed an animal tooth hanging from his earring in his left ear. I suspected a bear, due to the size. I blushed as I gazed upon his visage, realizing he only wore a leather jacket, no shirt underneath. The coat was open, leaving his abs on display. I gave the man a nod, praying he wouldn't ask any more questions. I also didn't want to begin to think about the tingling in my skin where his hands had touched. 

It was related to his touch since I only noticed the tingling, bubbling feeling in my elbows. Right where this man had steadied me to keep my balance. I didn't know what to think or what this would mean. No one had ever been able to elicit such a response from me ever. 

"I think she's stunned," another man with long blonde hair, gorgeous blue eyes, a teasing smile, and a California accent smirked at the man. I stepped back, just now noticing the three other individuals accompanying the brunette. 

"Paul!" The guy in front of me admonished, rolling his eyes. It made me think this was their dynamic - Paul saying something and this man having to clean up after Paul. The brunette held me captive beneath his honey-brown eyes that refused to leave me alone. 

"Fine," I murmured, breaking eye contact. I blushed as my eyes drifted lower to view his perfect abs and then lower to settle on his thighs. He had thick thighs that were muscular and his black jeans clung to the muscles. Finally, I brought my eyes to the ground, wishing for an earthquake to open a fault and swallow me whole. 

"What's your name?" Another man spoke, breathing out smoke from the cigarette he was indulged in. My eyes rose involuntarily to look upon his countenance. This man had a darker stubble on his chiseled cheeks with the blondest hair I'd ever seen. 

He had pale blue eyes that seemed to draw me into his gaze. It felt unnerving, like he was looking deep into my soul, figuring out my secrets. The lanugo on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end, sensing some danger or electricity in the air. I couldn't say a word while my eyes were locked with his. My mouth wouldn't move to articulate the syllables of my name. His lips quirked upwards into a smirk until my brother's voice broke the spell. 

"ARIA!" Sam called out, running towards me on the Boardwalk. I jerked and yanked out of the reverie. It caused our eyes to disconnect, and I felt strange, almost empty. The four men standing there let their mouths curve upwards into smiles as my identity was no longer a secret. I turned to walk toward my brother when I heard the platinum-blonde male speak.

"We'll see you around, Aria," he promised. I turned to see their figures already walking away, leather clothing and accessories creaking as they ambled away. I wasted no time and raced to Sam's side. 

"Where have you been?" Sam yelled at me. He didn't need to worry about me as I was the oldest. Since coming out of inpatient, Sam had been treating me like I was a little kid. I didn't care for his attitude when we were alone. "Mom's worried sick about you. Did you eat anything? Or are you just waiting to pass out - again?"

My spine stiffened at his callous jab. I understood that Sam was lashing out due to the move and worried about my illness, but he didn't have to scream it at me. I didn't notice the four men stop, having heard what my brother said to me. They looked at the scene before them, taking in what information they could. No one noticed if they looked upon the scene how all four men clenched their fists in anger. They didn't appreciate how this child spoke to the lovely creature wandering the Boardwalk. 

I said nothing to Sam; I just chose to walk past him. A silent ghost wandering up the Boardwalk. I ignored my brother's ranting, focusing on the four mysterious men. They were handsome - something I've only seen in magazines or on the television. I had seen handsome guys before, but everyone paled compared to those four. I was also focused on why I felt a connection between the four. 

I had felt a weird pull in the depths of my stomach while near them. The platinum blonde held the most sway over my mind. I wondered how long I could have stared at him, but probably for as long as possible. The electrical sparks that still tingled under my skin where the brunette had gently grabbed my elbows were magical. The air around the five of us felt charged, almost as if lightning had just hit the beach where we were standing. 

My mind wandered, the visage of the four men vivid within my memory. It was almost palpable as if I could touch them in my mind as my brother and I walked to the Range Rover. My mother was waiting by the driver's side, with a bright smile, when she noticed our figures. As I walked closer, I felt as if I were being watched. It didn't feel creepy or threatening but rather heat where eyes were staring. 

I turned my head, locking green eyes on the figures of those four men. The crowd milled about them, but they kept staring at me. My cheeks turned cherry red when I realized they were enamored with me. I couldn't bear to tear my eyes away, ears reddening as the blonde-haired male with the long locks winked. 

"Aria!" My mom's voice cut through the connection. She sounded irritated, almost as if she had said my name multiple times prior. I turned my head to focus on her. "Did you eat?"

I shrugged my shoulders, my mother sighing. She was worried that she would lose me, and there was no money to put me into another inpatient clinic. I reached for the cold door handle, turning my head back towards the Boardwalk. I scanned the crowd, but it was like the men were a figment of my imagination as they were no longer standing there. I sighed, a little disappointed, and got into the car.  Chapter Five

[stuckyfingers]

Idk what I'm even writing but here is a What If extension fic about Rogers Hood singing. The whole fic is there just for the song.

“Who are you?” Strange drawled, looking at the blue-green clad mercenary looking guy.

He had been stuck in Earth-1602, successfully evading capture by the Sherriff for only so long. T'Challa from Earth-527 was supposed to get him sometime soon, but the wait had stretched into days.

He was in the Sherriff's carriage being grandly arrested by the familiar looking official and his following army of guards, when a gang of tree swinging bandits had surrounded them, forcing them to dismount. A carriage up ahead with a man in a pentagonal hat standing outside, told them that the Bishop was also undergoing a robbery.

The man in the green and blue clothes chuckled. “I’m known far and wide as a legendary outlaw, Strange Wizard!” He dropped his hood with flair, revealing his face. “I am Steven Rogers, or Rogers Hood as people have come to call me.”

“Rogers Hood?” Strange scoffed. “Not surprising though… you do tend to do illegal things in every universe.”

“’Tis the powerful that maketh legality immoral, my friend. To abide thy morals, thou must break the law.” Steve replied unfazed at the mention of universes. His gaze turned rather cold when he looked at the other people from the carriage. "Sherriff Thaddeus Ross. Pleasant morn it is, but for thy presence."

The Sheriff growled. “Thy speech of morals shield not thine acts of disgrace! Thou hast lain with men as thou would with a maiden: it is frowned upon, verily!"

The guy close beside Rogers Hood shed his own hood to raise a haughty eyebrow. The manicured beard was confusing, but it was undoubtedly Bucky Barnes.

Rogers Hood did not seem perturbed at being accused of sodomy but rather, leaned sideways to kiss Bucky on the cheek, smirking at the Sherriff. “So be it! ’Twould be thine own visage that is marred!”

“ 'Tis God’s visage that you mar!” The Bishop cried from a few yards away, rather bravely for someone being searched for coin.

“How little must thou think of Him, that a poor outlaw can change His divine skin!” Rogers cried louder, throwing his hands up like he was on Broadway. “A Bishop, indeed, thy Bishop clothes don’t hide the doubt within!”

“Uhm, Rogers Hood, could you-?” Strange started.

“Interrupt him not!” Another Merry Man with a bow- who looked like Clint Barton- who was Clint Barton, shushed him. Rogers really began singing like he was in a musical- even jumping onto a sunlit tree stump as the Sherriff watched in agony.

“How little must thou believe in thine own self to bring an army: When Merry Men are armed with naught but bows”

“But bows!” The Merry Men added.

“How little must thou find it in thy heart to be more charming: When Merry Men, we zest while in the throes!”

“The Throes!”

"Well, maidens go to Church no more, for we have larger bells!"

"AYE!"

"But we insisted they must trust the Lord!"

"The Lord!"

"And maidens who skipped Synagogues for the reasons much the same, we led them back to their fine carven doors!"

"Doors!"

The Merry Men began chanting as Rogers turned to Strange with a flourish.

"Now this fine old Wizard doth seek to know us well, what ways of ours shall we queintein him with?"

"We spend our days with parties gay under the sunny glades," Sang Bucky Barnes.

"We give the poor what we steal from the rich!" Sang the Leonardo da Vinci looking version of Sam Wilson.

"We hate the King of England and the Sheriff we hate more, the travelers of Egypt* are our kith!" sang Clint Barton.

The trees around them rang with song:

"And maidens go to Church no more, for we have larger bells- hey! But we insisted they must trust the Lord! And maidens who skipped Synagogues for the reasons much the same, we led them back to their fine carven doors!"

The Bishop grew increasingly purple with every reprise of the chorus, like he was going to explode. They actually repeated it three times before Rogers took the stage again-

"And now my sweet Bishop thou seemst burdened with thy gold-"

"Let us free thy shoulders of this weight!" Scott Lang joined in.

"For, O wretched Bishop sitting in thy Bishop clothes, you've become the very thing He hates!" Steve finished with a laugh.

The guards waited for some command from the Sherriff, but the Sherriff was far too occupied with being gagged. Dr. Strange alone was not subject to such treatment.

"Go, now!" Barnes boomed, waving a crossbow at the army. "You don't want to be caught here with us! Return to thy wives before you get arrows up thy arses!"

The guards scattered nervously casting glances at the Sherriff. They couldn't all be punished if they left together, could they?

Dr. Strange started again: "So, er- Rogers Wood, I mean, Hood uhm-"

Steve nodded at him while rounding up the valuables. "I have heard of ye, Strange Wizard... I doth not doubt we are in f'r a delightful conversation!"

"Neither do I." A voice came from across the road. The calm, regal consonance of-

"T'Challa!" Strange cried, half relieved, half really annoyed.

The space pirate revealed himself- not bothering to hide his bootstrap jet boosters from the medieval folk. He was dressed like a Golden Age pirate but with a punk metal twist that was probably lost on the people present there.

"Fie! Fie!" The Bishop wailed, "'Tis the devil! 'Tis the- ack!"

Clint Barton gagged the Clergyman for good and stared at the new arrival. "And who may that be! He flies with fire on his feet, like Hermes himself!"

"And yet his name is T'Challa." Rogers Hood mused, signaling his men to lower their arms. "I know of only one T'Challa- and he is the King of Wakanda. Art thou he?"

Star Lord T'Challa's eyes glimmered with mirth. "Oh well, I'm not him. I just share a name with him, Captain Hood. I'm from another universe, and I am here to collect Dr. Strange."

"Thou art free to take him, if he doth not wish for our protection against you." Rogers smiled.

"How about... we sit down for a drink with them?" Strange sighed. "I don't want your protection, but I do want to get back at this asshole."

"Oh Bast, what slander!" T'Challa gasped mockingly. "Weren't you trying to leave this place as fast as you could?"

"I'm not leaving now that I've found the best part?" Strange shrugged.

T'Challa hopped down merrily to the ground. "Well, one outlaw to another, I would love the company!"

"Outlaw!?" Roger Hood perked up.

"Outlaw." Strange groaned.

[writernopal]

Some Lines!

I've been tagged over the course of the last month by so many lovely peeps to share some form of Last Line, Heads Up Seven Up, 9 Lines etc, and because my brain is everywhere these days, I decided to combine these and just share some lines with y'all!

Thank you to the following (some more than once!) who've tagged me 🥺💙

@duckingwriting @tabswrites @sarahlizziewrites @acertainmoshke @sam-glade @talesofsorrowandofruin @squarebracket-trick @lassiesandiego @mister-writes @mysticstarlightduck @teamdilf @scifimagpie @autumnalwalker @writingmaidenwarrior

Leaving this as an open tag to anyone who would like to share lines of their own!

cw: mild body horror, blood, asphyxiation

From AASOAF 3:

I dropped to my knees as something bloodcurdling cut through the air; a haunting and piercing cry, followed by the most pleasant and airy laughter. The two sounds battled with one another, but they were not just making noise. They were speaking. A tongue so ancient, but familiar all the same. As if I'd heard it in a dream. Or perhaps another life. I forced myself to listen, but could only make out a single word: traitor. The sound of a maelstrom entered the fray, drowning out both voices and then the lake brightened, emitting great warmth as if the sun itself lurked beneath its surface. From it rose two pale female bodies. They were locked in a tight embrace, both barely clothed and exposing the knuckles of their spines. On the back of their necks, an eye of a bright blue with a golden pupil. They were perfect replicas of one another. Both horrifyingly shrunken and so pale, nearly translucent. A crunch followed. Their heads fell back to look at me and they cried out for help, tears of blood dripping from where their two eyes should be. I backed away fearfully, crushing the delicate lilies around me with the heels of my palms. Their cries rose louder and louder and with them came a pressure pressing down and down on my chest. Stealing air. Stealing warmth. I gasped. The lake churned furiously, and a great fire wrapped their bodies. Screaming gave way to squealing and a high pitched hissing. The sound bounced about the room, finding pockets where it resonated and thundered. My hands were uncooperative, numb and stupid, as I tried to shield my ears. And now it burned deep inside me. My head lolled back, facing what would be the sky. Horror-incarnate knelt so I could see her form--the familiar visages of the gods, shadowed and desperate. And as my vision faded and my body lightened, a single phrase prevailed. Save us.

AASOAF 3 Taglist: @outpost51 @thelivingdeceased @faelanvance @captain-kraken @illjustpretend @elshells @writeblr-of-my-own @the-mindless @zestymimblo

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[artyandink]

we could be more | dean winchester | 18

Summary: Ivonne Rainer was practically a trained killing machine. Stripped to the bone then built back up by her father in order to become one of the best, like he was. She was forced into hunting when she was nineteen, having developed powers that couldn’t be explained. That is, until she was paid a visit by Azazel’s lackey. Her powers were gone, she needed help, and that’s when she found her father’s journal. Pointing to Sam and Dean Winchester.

SERIES MASTERLIST

WHAT IS AND WHAT SHOULD NEVER BE

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : HOUSE OF MEMORIES - PANIC!AT THE DISCO 

I opened my eyes, adjusting to the surroundings. Which was mostly blood. And fire. And more blood. “What the hell-“ 

“Hello, Ivonne.” I saw a demon in front of me, a short, pudgy man in a suit. He looked like a five year old with a big forehead. I chuckled, smirking. 

“Looks like I’m in it.” 

“We’re been waiting for you.” 

“Flattered.” I sniped. “Who are you?” 

“Demon.” 

“And you’re wearing a suit like you’re the boss? Keep dreaming.” He was silent, so I laughed again. “Oh, so you are? I was expecting more of an intimidating visage, really. But good on you, I supposed.”

“No-no.” He grunted distastefully, then put on the smirk again. “Lucifer’s… on holiday. My name’s Crowley, the demon who’ meant to handle you, and you’ve got the penthouse here. You’re in Hell, honey, and there’s no escaping.”

Dean woke up in a bed that wasn’t his, looking around in confusion. He got up and walked into the living room of the apartment, then took out his cell and called Sam.

‘Dean?’ 

“Sam?” 

‘What's going on?’ 

“I don't know. I don't know where I am.”

’What? What happened?’ 

“Well, the uh, the Djinn. It attacked me.” 

‘The gin? You’re drinking gin?’ 

“No, asshat. The Djinn. The... scary creature. Remember? It put its hand on me and then I woke up... in a weird place.”

Sam chuckled. ‘You mean your apartment, the place you live?’ 

“And Beanie… oh god, Beanie… she’s dead.”

’Who’s Beanie? Who is she, Dean?’ 

“Ivy. Our Ivy, don’t you remember her?” 

‘Dean, you're drunk. You're drunk-dialing me.’ 

“I am not drunk. Quit screwing around!” 

‘Look, it's late. All right, just get some sleep and, um, I'll ... see you tomorrow. OK?’ 

“Wait, Sam. Sam!” Sam hung up, so Dean searched his contacts. 

No Ivy.

“Dean.” Mary Winchester frowned when she saw her son at the door. 

“Mom?” Dean whispered, his voice breaking. 

“What are you doing here? Are you all right?” 

“I don't know.” 

“Well, come inside, then.” She led him inside, concerned. “What’s going on?” 

“Let me ask you a question. When I was a kid, what did you always tell me when you put me to bed?” 

“I-I don’t understand-“ 

“Just answer the question.” 

“I told you angels were watching over you.” 

He breathed a sigh of relief. “I don't believe it.” He hugged her tightly, tears threatening to fall down his face. 

“Honey, you're scaring me.” Mary murmured. “Now just tell me what's going on.” 

“You don't think that wishes can, can really...” 

“What?” 

“Forget it. I’m just happy you’re here, is all.” He took her shoulders. “You're beautiful.” 

“What?” 

“Hey, when I was uh... When I was young was there ever a fire here?” 

“No, never.” 

“I thought there was.” He smiled. “I guess I was wrong. Dad's on a softball team.” 

“He loved that stupid team.” Mary chuckled. 

“Dad's dead? And the thing that killed him was a...” 

“A stroke. He died in his sleep, you know that.” 

“Hey, Nate. Nate!” A boy of around eight dashed down the stairs, jumping down the last three. A blonde woman who looked in her early 20s ran after him, while a slightly older guy followed at a slower pace. “Nathan Michael Rainer, get back here! You can play Captain America another time; your bedtime was fifty minutes ago!” The surname struck a chord, and Dean’s eyes widened. Could she…

“Lily!” The guy called, then threw up his hands in exasperation. He then turned to Dean and Mary in surprise. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs Winchester, I didn’t know you were having guests around.” 

“No, that’s ok, honey, it was a surprise to me too.” Mary laughed, then gestured to Dean. “This is my elder son, Dean.” 

“Nice to meet you.” Dean held out a hand, which the boy shook. 

“You too, man. I’m Carter.” Carter grinned, then looked behind him. So… that was Carter Rainer.

“Hell of a grip.” 

“Back atcha. Excuse me, my brother’s on a sugar high. Shouldn’t have let him eat ice cream after seven. Or eat ice cream at all.” He jogged off, and Mary shook her head with a giggle. 

“Who’s…” 

“Oh, come on, Dean.” Mary sighed. “Carter’s Sam’s best friend and you definitely know this. You’re drunk, aren’t you?” 

“No.” Dean shook his head. “‘Course not.” 

“Well, Audrey and Michael’s kids are over for Christmas while they’re having their anniversary together in Hawaii. Though it’s hard managing Nate without- oh, speak of the angel.“ The doorbell rang, so Mary rushed to open it, the person behind her masked by the hug they gave each other. 

“I hope I’m not late to the party.” The voice broke Dean’s heart, and he had to gulp back tears, heading into the dining room to recover, but still peering through the door. She’s alive. “Is Nate in bed?” 

“Too much ice cream.” 

“Ok, so he’s a race car by now, got it.” Ivonne Rainer walked in, taking off her beanie and leather jacket, hanging it up. Then, just as Nate ran past, she scooped him up, making him giggle. “Someone’s not sleepy, huh?” 

“No!” Nate pouted, folding his arms. “I want to stay up, like the rest of you.” 

“Oh, but you’re sleepy, Nate.” She insisted. Then she moved her pointed in a loop around his face, his eyes following as the circle got smaller. “You’re getting sleepier, and sleepier, and boop!” She tapped his nose. “You’re really sleepy.” Nate yawned, and she smiled, kissing his forehead. “There we go.” Then she turned to Quinn, who emerged from the kitchen. “Quinn, you get the honour of putting Sleepy Nate to bed. I’ll help Mrs Winchester out.” 

“Sure thing.” Quinn smiled, taking Nate upstairs. Dean blinked; it was hard to look at her the same after seeing her as a dreamwalker, being the cause of Ivy’s death and also being a hardcore psycho. However, it was good to see her, well, normal.

Ivy turned to Carter and Lily. “You two better get some sleep too.” 

“We’re 23 and 20, sis, not 15 and 12.” Carter smirked, rolling his eyes. The ages at which they died.

“I’m 27, so I hold the cards.” Ivy retorted, ruffling Carter’s hair. “Head up, short stack.” 

“I’m four inches taller.” 

“You used to be four inches smaller.” 

“Yeah, when I was twelve.” 

“Go and I’ll get you a burrito for breakfast.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Lily and Carter saluted in sync and headed upstairs, and Ivy turned to Mary with a triumphant grin. 

“Madness fixed.” She laughed. 

“Thank goodness, I can finally rest.” Mary joked as they went into the dining room. Dean’s eyes instantly fell on Ivy, his breath hitching. She looked the same, except she looked happier. Less worn, and she had a tattoo of three flying birds on her collarbone. The scar on her eyebrow was the same, her freckles were in place, but she had a few more laugh lines, and she had dimples when she smiled. 

She looked beautiful to him. Well, she always looked beautiful.

“Should I put on a cup?”

“That would be amazing. Oh!” Mary exclaimed upon seeing Dean. She walked up to him, guiding him by the arm to face Ivy. “Dean, this is Ivonne, you haven’t met her yet. She works in the force in Jersey. Ivy, this is Dean.” 

“Dean?” Ivy smiled, giving him a look which made his knees weak. “The Dean? Big brother, Dean?” 

“That Dean, yeah.” Dean nodded, and they shook hands, though his hand lingered for a bit longer than he’d intended it to. 

“It’s great to meet you, man. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She grinned, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. ���Been dying to see the dude that raised Sammy.” 

“Yeah. You’re, uh, you’re lookin’ at him.” 

“I’m glad I am.” She turned to Mary, taking her shoulders gently. Is this what she’d be like had her siblings survived? “Mary, I’m gonna set some dinner up for Dean in the kitchen, you relax. Watch some TV.” 

“Thanks, sweetie.” 

“No problem.” She shrugged, then turned to Dean with a crooked, winning grin that mirrored her usual one, making Dean’s heart leap from his chest. “D’you want dinner, or are you gonna keep standing there?” Dean blindly followed her into the kitchen, at a loss for words. “So, the Dean, what d’you do for a living?” 

“It’s complicated.” 

“Try me, why don’t you?” 

“I… I’m a… hunter.” 

She grinned, though there was a flicker of something else. “Not that hard, is it? Dad’s hobby was hunting before he married my mom. Taught me how to shoot, so I went in the force. Majored in Criminology and also did a side course in folklore.” 

“Shoo in at the academy, I’m guessing.” He chuckled. 

“Oh, you have no idea.” 

“I might.” She didn’t respond, busy cutting a cucumber with surprising accuracy. He stared at her, and at the necklace hanging from her neck, smiling softly and almost breathlessly. “Good with knives too?” 

“Perks of havin’ a mom who’s good in the kitchen and a dad who’s good with guns.” She looked up, catching him staring. “Whatcha starin’ at?” 

“You.” He blurted, then caught his words. “You, uh, cause you’re… you’re beautiful.” 

“Thanks.” She giggled. “And here I thought you were the take it slow type.” 

“Oh-“ 

“I’m just kidding, you’re good. No harm in complimenting a woman.” She passed him a plate of salad and a plate with a burger, both of which he dug into happily. The salad? More reluctantly, but still. “If we’re trading compliments, then I think you’re handsome.” 

“Do you?” He chuckled, looking up. 

“I do. I say it like I see it.” 

“I’m familiar with it.” 

“So, Dean, got a special lady where you’re from?” She had a twinkle in her eye, and Dean bit his lip, smiling. 

“Yeah, yeah I do. I did.” He nodded. 

“You did?” Her eyebrows furrowed. 

“Yeah, past tense.” 

“You don’t have to talk about it-“

“No, I can. It was a while ago.” He gulped, swallowing the tears. “I called her Beanie, cause she was always wearing one, but, uh, her name’s… Hazel.” 

“I’d love this Hazel.” Ivy smiled, sitting down with a cup of tea. “My middle name’s Hazel. Tell me more about her.”

”She was… badass.” A goofy grin spread across his features, lighting them up. “Always had a plan, always knew what to say. She’d set me straight if I needed to be set, and her smile…” 

“Let me guess, it can light up the room?” 

“Nah. It could cause a power outage.” 

“That good, huh?” 

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for y-her.” He caught his words. “If she was still here.” 

“Sounds like a lucky girl.” She smiled. 

You’re that lucky girl.

“No, I was a lucky man.” She made a face as if she was deducing something for a split second, then it looked like she pushed the thoughts down. 

“Do I- Do I know you from… somewhere?” 

“No.” He shook his head. “Probably not.” 

“You just seem…” She let out a sigh that bordered on nostalgic, “familiar.” 

“Like you’ve just met someone but you feel like you’ve known them forever?” 

“Pretty much.” She tilted her head. “You’re a strange one, Dean Winchester.” 

“And is that a bad thing?” 

“I work in the force. Strange is a normal thing.”

The next morning, Dean woke up, and the first thing on his mind was the Djinn. Then he thought of someone who can help. He got up, walking over to where he thought Ivy would be, which was… making Nate eat his breakfast. 

“You’ve got it.” She ruffled his hair, then saw Dean. A smile lit up on her face, and she walked over. “Morning, Dean. Whatcha want for breakfast?” 

“To talk. To you.” He gulped, and a look of concern crossed her face. 

“Yeah, of course. C’mon, Mary gave me John’s study if I ever needed quiet time.” They went into a small room with well kept books on the shelves, and she shrugged. “What’s up?” 

“Do you have any books on folklore? Like… creatures and stuff? I’m curious about one.” 

She took off a book, the exact book she used to use when she was alive, flicking through it. “Mhmm. Which one?” 

“Djinn.” 

“Djinn… got it.” She tapped a place on the page. “I can barely read Ancient Greek, but what do you wanna know?” 

“If they can really grant wishes.” 

“Yeah, they… can.” Ivy furrowed her brow, staring at him weirdly. “Dean, these are mythical creatures. You can’t possibly think they’re real.” 

“I do.” He stepped forward, the coil in his head snapping. “And something tells me that you think the same.”

”What-“ 

“I know more about you than you think. Ivonne Hazel Rainer, born on January 9th, 1979 to Audrey and Michael Rainer. Your favourite colour is the orange the leaves turn in fall. Your favourite band is Led Zeppelin. During high school, you had a phase where you were a blonde babe.” 

“How do you-“ 

“Your leather jacket was your father’s. You stole Carter’s beanie, but that’s fine cause you got him another one for his birthday. Everything you know about fighting came from your dad.” 

She took out her gun, aiming it at him, fire blazing in her grey eyes. “Are you some kind of elaborate stalker? If you are, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blow your brains out.” She flicked off the safety when the doorbell rang, and she put the gun down, putting the safety on. “You’re safe for now, douche.” She stored the gun in her waistband, hiding it with her shirt, then jogged down to the door and opened it to reveal Sam and Jessica. 

“Sam, man!” Carter yelled, and Sam grinned. 

“Carter!” They bro hugged, while Ivy hugged Jessica tightly. 

“How have you been?” She asked Jessica, who then started gushing about her day. Dean started talking to Sam, but found that their relationship wasn’t what it used to be. “Hey, Sammy.” She smiled. 

“Ivy!” Sam hugged her, but Ivy had to stand on her toes. “How’s work? Catch any bad guys?” 

“Loads. Now come on, I’ve made breakfast.” She looked up at him. “Am I shrinking or are you getting taller?”  

“Neither.” When they got inside and everyone headed to the kitchen, Ivy pressed her forearm to Dean’s collarbone and shoved him into a side room, pinning him to the wall. 

“How do you know so much about me, huh?!” She interrogated. “What are you, a psychic? Shapeshifter? Demon?” 

Dean’s eyes widened upon hearing it. “You don’t work in the force, do you-“

”Answer the question!” 

“I know all that because I knew you. In a place where you had a much worse life.”

”You’re lying.”

”Would I have your gun if I was?” Dean took out Ivy’s - his Ivy’s - gun, showing it to her. 

“My gun.” She breathed. “What… how?” 

“Girl called Hazel? That’s you. I somehow got into this reality where everything’s great, but it isn’t. There were newspapers in your office of incidents that I was meant to stop. With Sam and you. And you’re not meant to be alive.” 

“What are you talking about?”

”In my, uh, reality, you’re a lot rougher around the edges. That’s cause Quinn? She dies of cancer because your dad took her on a hunting trip that got her turned, and he OD’d her with dead man’s blood and made it look like cancer, so she died. Your dad dies because a dreamwalker carved his heart out. Then the dreamwalker, who you found out much later was Quinn, possesses Carter and makes him murder your mom, your then unborn brother Nate and Lily. Then you shoot him in self defence. All of this happened when you were nineteen, and you went on a monster killing spree until you were twenty six, which is when you met me. A year later, the dreamwalker comes back, and you reveal the truth. It forces you to kill your boyfriend and almost kills your dad. Now, you also had a rune preventing you from using sorcery that was meant to go to your brother. That could only be broken by a love sacrifice, and to break it you pushed me out of the way of Quinn’s attack and…” He paused, gritting his teeth, “you made me kill you.” 

“And why?” 

“So she couldn’t get to you again.” 

“You’re made of bull, you know that, right?” She scoffed, taking out her gun. “I don’t believe you. I really don’t.” 

“Look at me.” He ordered, “Look me in the eye, Beanie, and tell me if I’m lying.” 

“I don’t need to look you in the eye to tell.” 

“I loved you!” Dean burst out, breathing heavily. “Hell, more than I’d like to admit. I’ve tried to get over you, but I… I can’t.” 

“Still full of-“

“Just take one look at me and tell me whether I’m lying. Please, Beanie.” 

She sighed in defeat, then gave him a long, hard look. “You’re not, are you?”

”That’s what I was tryna tell you.” She let him go, biting her lip. 

“You better be telling the truth. Otherwise I’d skin you alive. In the meantime, we’ve got your mom’s dinner party.” 

A plate of asparagus was set in front of Dean, making Ivy chuckle. “Wow, that... looks awesome.”

“To Mary.” Ivy raised her glass. “Happy birthday.” 

“To Mary.” Everyone clinked their glasses together, sipping. Sam and Jessica shared a kiss, and Dean smirked. 

“What do you say, later we get you a cheeseburger?” She grinned, leaning closer to him. 

“You’re an angel.” Dean whispered.

“I know.” 

“How’d you become such a cool chick?” 

“Ask my dad, not me.” 

“All right. Jess and I actually have another surprise for Mom's birthday.” Sam announced, turning to Jessica. “Ah... You wanna tell 'em?” 

“They’re your family.” Jessica insisted. 

“Alright.” 

“What?” Mary asked excitedly. “Tell me what?” Sam held up Jessica’s hand, entwined with his, a ring flashing on it. “Oh my God! That's so wonderful.” We all stood up sans Dean, hugging each other. 

“Don’t forget the boys, Sam.” Carter grinned, clapping Sam on the shoulder. 

“Oh, come on, Carter.” Quinn chastised with a smile incredibly similar to Carter’s. What is he thinking? They’re twins, of course they’d be similar. “We’re so happy for you.” 

“And come to think of it,” Ivy teased, hugging Jessica, “you were both shyer than Carter in his teens when you met each other.” 

“Oh, shut up.” Sam rolled his eyes playfully. 

“That’s no way to talk to your marriage planner. Now, c’mon, we need to break out the champagne! And no, Lily, you’re underage.” 

“Come on!” Lily complained. 

“Lily, just one year.” 

“One year’s too long.” 

“Sorry, bite size.” Carter smirked, sipping champagne. “You’ve gotta wait.”

“You ok?” Ivy asked, sitting down on the sofa beside Dean and offering him a beer. He gladly took it, sipping it. 

“Sammy and I don’t get along.” Dean lamented, and she shrugged. 

“He doesn’t know what he’s missing.” 

“I can fix things with Sam. I can make it up to him. To everyone.”

”Doesn’t make a lick of sense, dude.” She took a sip. “My alternate version, what did she say to you before she died?” 

“She called me a dumbass.” He grinned, then faltered. “Said that she didn’t want to die so soon, but she had no option. She made me promise that I wouldn’t blame myself for her death, even though I’m the one that did it.” 

“She asked you to do it, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Then don’t blame yourself.” She shrugged, then laughed. “She sounds like a smart girl.” Ivy turned, seeing him staring with the same look as yesterday. “What?” 

“You’re so much more happier here.” He chuckled. “It’s relieving. To know that if all that crazy shtick hadn’t happened, you might be… who you are now. You wouldn’t be so hard set, so averse to new opportunities-“ 

“What new opportunities?” 

“This.” With that, he cupped her cheek, kissing her. He pulled back almost instantly running a hand through his hair as he internally cursed himself for kissing someone who was a stranger to him in this world. “Damn, Ivy, I’m so sorry-“ He was pulled back in for another kiss, Ivy holding his shirt but then cupping the nape of his neck. Then something seemed to switch, and she pulled back, standing up. 

“No.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but… no.” Ivy let out a breathless chuckle, shaking her head as she ran a hand through her hair. “Whatever this is? It comes from your love for your Ivy, not me. I can’t replace her, Dean. I’m not rough around the edges like she is. My family’s alive, Dean, and i’d very much like it to stay that way, but we need to get you back. To your family.” 

“I’ve only got Sammy left in my world.” He frowned, “I’m not sure I want to go back.” 

“Well, you need to, buddy.” She clapped his shoulder. “C‘mon, let’s get you to wherever the Djinn was.” 

“First…” He held a finger up, “I need a silver knife.” 

“You kidding me?! It’s 12 in the morning!” 

“I still need it!” 

“Fine, but get the largest one, yeah? I’m waiting in the Impala.” 

“You don’t have the-“ She held up the keys. “Yeah, should’ve known you’d swipe ‘em from my pocket.” 

“Mhmm. Meet me in the car.” 

Ivy was tapping the steering wheel impatiently when Dean got in, holding up the knife. Then after him came Sam. 

“Sam?!” She hissed to Dean. 

“Wha…” He turned to see Sam. “What are you doing here?” 

“I’m coming with you.” He panted.

”No, he’s not.” Ivy refused. 

“You're just gonna slow us down.” Dean grimaced. 

“Us?!” Sam exclaimed indignantly. “What, is Dean some undercover cop?” 

“You could say that.” Ivy huffed. “Sam, this is dangerous and you could get seriously hurt.” 

“Well, tough.” 

“You’re not leaving, are you?”

”Nope.” 

“Ok, but don’t blame me and go crying to Jessica if you get hurt.” She floored it, driving off. 

“What's in the bag?” Sam asked, spotting the bag in between Dean and I. 

“Nothin’.” Dean sighed. 

“Nothin’?” 

“Nothin’.” 

“Fine.” He grabbed the bag, starting to open it. 

“Sam, you don’t wanna know what’s inside.” Ivy groaned. 

“Oh really?” He took out the container of blood, making her shake her head. “Blood?” 

“We needed a knife dipped in lamb’s blood.”

”You needed a silver knife dipped in lamb's blood, why?” 

“There’s this thing, a Djinn. We need to hunt it.” Dean explained. 

“Stop the car.” Sam ordered. 

“This is why I said you shouldn’t come along.” Ivy snapped. Sam pulled out his phone, dialling a number. 

“I mean, you guys are obviously having a psychotic breakdown, and-“ She grabbed his phone, throwing it out the window. 

“We’re not psychotic. This here? It’s real.”

”My phone-“ 

“Tough, kid.” She sighed. “Listen to me and listen to me carefully, Sam. I’m not a police officer. I’m what people like me call a hunter. And I hunt demons, ghosts, you name the supernatural creature, I hunt it. Dean does too. A Djinn grants wishes, and Dean here seems to be stuck in one. Got it?” 

“What about Carter? Lily, Quinn, Nate, do they know this?” 

“Nope. They don’t know a thing, and you’re not gonna tell anyone, you hear me?” 

“Loud and clear.” 

“Good. Now sleep.” 

“But-“ 

“Sleep.” 

They pulled up at the Djinn’s hideout, and Sam woke up with a jerk. “Where are we?” 

“Not in Kansas.” Ivy quipped, getting out of the car. “We’re in Illinois.”

”And you think there’s something in there?” 

“Yeah.” She nodded exasperatedly. “Yeah, he does. Let’s go.” They headed inside, but found nothing. Yet. 

“See? There’s nothing. C’mon, l-let’s just go.” There was a sound, and Sam yelped. “What the hell is that?”

”Stay behind me and keep your mouth shut.” Dean ordered. They stalked through the halls, then they split. Ivy checked on the bodies hanging from the stands, muttering under her breath. “What if that's what the Djinn does? It doesn't grant you a wish, it just makes you think it has.” Dean wondered, making her join them. 

“Listen, it might come back-“

”What if I'm like her? What if I'm tied up in here some place? What if all this is in my head? I mean it could, you know, maybe it gives us some kind of supernatural acid, and then just feeds on us slow.” 

“That doesn’t make sense.”

”It's - it's like more and more like I'm catching flashes of reality. You know, like I'm in here somewhere, and I'm - I'm catatonic, and I'm taking all this stuff in but I, but I can't snap out of it.”

”Yeah, OK, look. Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're right. I was wrong. You're not crazy but we – we – we need to get out of here. Fast.” Sam tried to pull Dean with him, but Dean detached himself. 

“I don’t think you’re real.”

Sam took Dean’s arms, gripping them tight. “Dude, you feel that? You feel this? I'm real. This is not an acid trip. I'm real, and that thing is gonna come down here and kill us for real. Now, please—“

”There’s one way to be sure.” Dean pulled out the knife.

”Woah, what are you doing?” 

“It’s an old wives’ tale. If you’re about to die in a dream, you wake up.” 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no. That's crazy. All right?” 

“Do it, Dean.” Ivy urged, stepping forward. 

“You stay back!” Sam snapped harshly. Everyone appeared, surrounding him. “Why did you keep digging? Why couldn’t you leave well enough alone, Dean?” 

“Because this isn’t real.” Dean shook his head. “Ivy’s meant to be dead.” 

“She’s alive here.” Carter insisted. “You love her. Don’t lose her.” 

“It's everything you want. We're a family again. Let’s go home.” Mary pleaded. 

“I'll die.” Dean whispered. “The Djinn'll... drain the life out of me in a couple of days.” 

“But in here, with us, it'll feel like years. Like a lifetime. I promise. No more pain. Or fear. Just love and comfort. And safety. Dean, stay with us. Get some rest.” 

“You don't have to worry about Sam anymore.” Jessica smiled. “You get to watch him live a full life.”

”Don’t listen.” Ivy begged. “What’s dead should stay dead, Dean. You’re not going to get anything out of this.”

”Why is it our job to save everyone? Haven't we done enough? I'm begging you.” Sam stepped forward, holding out his hand. “Give me the knife.” 

“Do it.” 

“I’m sorry.” Dean lifted the knife, plunging it into himself-

I gasped, my eyes flying open as I tried to sit up, but my head collided with wood. Straight wood. 

“What’s going..?” I panted, looking around, but meeting the boring sight of oak each time. “Am I in a coffin?” 

I started banging on the ceiling, yelling out. 

“HELLO?!”

”IS ANYONE THERE?!”

”I’M BURIED ALIVE!”

Oh boy.

A/N Time!

I feel like I should explain this episode. Dean loves Ivy, as he revealed, but his idea of a dream world with Ivy is her living the life she was supposed to, where her family’s alive. It’s also where she’s getting with him on HER terms (my sweet boy’s a gentleman) and not because it’s what he wants. And she encourages him to stab his elf because the Djinn made a mistake when interpreting that Ivy’s ‘always on Dean’s side’ because she encouraged him to break free.

Anyway, that’s enough wafflin’ from me.

Love y’all, and feel free to comment, reblog and like!

Arty :)

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𝗝𝗨𝗟𝗜𝗔𝗡𝗡𝗔 𝗪𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗢𝗞 𝗖𝗔𝗠𝗘𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗟 : 5 / ∞ jules is arrested for trespassing after falling behind during a hunt , about to be booked when she hears a familiar voice entering the precinct . ( not pictured : almost definitely @ruinedmyself )

— 𝙢𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙖𝙡𝙨 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 / 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 —

[unpredictable-probabilities]

Azul Ashengrotto of Royal Sword Academy || Chapter 18: Sleep Over

Summary:

When Jamil wakes up from an unexpected nap, he finds himself reluctant to let Azul go back to RSA.

Then a call from their friends presents them with a valuable opportunity.

Word Count: 2,709

When Jamil comes to, his brain feels a little sluggish, the dregs of sleep still clouding his thoughts.

He feels himself hugging his pillow. He must have fallen asleep at some point. What time is it?

As his mind gradually wakes up, he realizes that his pillow feels different. Very different.

He opens his eyes to see Azul's sleeping face inches away from his own, his arm wrapped tightly around the merman.

...

..!

SHOOT!

Jamil flinches away, holding his breath to see if the sudden movement would wake his friend.

Azul stirs and turns so that he's lying down on his back again. He sighs softly and remains sleeping.

Jamil lets out a relieved breath and glances at the window; the light of the setting sun is turning the sky into different hues of red and orange.

He sits up, aghast.

WHAT!?

Jamil pulls out his phone and searches for any texts looking for him.

He finds, to his surprise, messages from his Vice Prefect that he and the other Scarabia members got things handled.

In addition, Sam has texted that he was informed of Jamil's circumstances and insists that he get some rest. He can just do his errands tomorrow.

Never has Jamil seen negligence of responsibilities work out so well.

Dumbfounded, he turns his phone off and looks around the room.

So… he's free for the rest of the day?

He glances down at Azul.

…

Hesitantly, he gently smooths Azul's locks back, gazing at his peaceful expression.

Azul leans into Jamil's touch and sighs again, mumbling something in his sleep.

Jamil perks up at the sound. Curiously, he leans closer to know if he can hear what Azul is saying more clearly.

"... not letting you Overblot," Azul mutters. "I promise, Jamil."

Jamil widens his eyes in surprise.

Is Azul having a dream of saving him from an Overblot?

Jamil feels himself soften.

"I won't," he whispers. "Not with you by my side."

Jamil thinks he sees the hint of a smile appear on Azul's face for a moment.

He's never seen Azul look so relaxed before, and with his glasses on the nightstand, Jamil can see Azul's face more clearly than usual.

A scandalous part of him wants to give Azul a small kiss on the head. So quick and so light, he won't even know it happened.

But he hastily shakes his head and settles back down on the bed, telling himself off for wanting to do something that could upset Azul.

With the dim light and Azul's warmth next to him, he eventually falls back to sleep.

"Jamil… Jamil," a voice says softly as Jamil feels himself being shaken lightly by the shoulder.

He wakes up to see Azul's face over his, the color of his eyes more noticeable without his glasses.

His hair and skin are bathed in the moonlight streaming through Jamil's window, giving him a very subtle glow.

"Hm..?" Jamil mumbles sleepily as he blinks up at the person above him, then he gives the beautiful visage a sleepy smile. "Hey, you…"

Azul returns the smile softly. "Hey, Vi." He glances at the window then back at Jamil. "It looks like I might have overstayed my welcome," he smiles shyly. "Um, I just wanted to let you know that I can go now, so you can have your room to yourself and have a proper night's sleep. Sorry for waking you, but I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."

"H-Huh? Whoa, wait, you're leaving?" Jamil asks, sitting up abruptly and almost hitting Azul in the forehead. "I mean… er… right, of course," he hastily recomposes himself. "Yeah, of course. It's just… Maybe I can get you something, like dinner and a drink, before you leave. I wasn't able to eat much of anything today either, after all, so I'm pretty hungry."

Is he making excuses for Azul to stay longer?

Yes. So what if he is?

Azul looks surprised. "Does this mean that it's not horrifying to wake up beside me, then?" he asks playfully.

Jamil remembers their phone call the other day, when he was hiding from Azul in the gym.

"I'm a patient man. If you take too long, I'll move on to another place. Maybe get myself a bite to eat and some sleep."

"Ah, you're a cruel one, Viper. Although if you do sleep, you'll be staying in one place for a long while. Then maybe I'll find you. Yes, do that, and you'll wake up with me beside you."

". . . Sounds horrifying."

Jamil tries his hardest not to smile along.  "I gotta admit, I could get used to it. You certainly don't end up hogging the whole bed like Kalim does."

Azul raises an eyebrow. "You could get used to it? Is that an invitation to do this again?" he teases.

"And what if it is, Ash?" Jamil chuckles, standing up from the bed and stretching. "If it means you'll get to rest some more, I see no problem with this."

Azul smiles. "I agree, because it also means you get more rest yourself." He stands up from the bed and begins to smooth out his shirt, though his hair is still ruffled. "Are you sure you still want to make dinner at this time? If you're hungry, perhaps I can do the cooking, to return the favor of letting me sleep on your bed."

"Oh? That doesn't sound like such a bad idea, actually." Jamil remarks, finding Azul's unkempt look rather adorable, so he doesn't point it out.

That's when something starts to ring. It's not his phone...

"I think someone's calling you," he tells Azul, already beginning to dread that it might be someone from RSA asking him to come back already.

Azul picks up his phone from the night stand and looks at the screen.

"It's Floyd," he furrows his eyebrows curiously. "Hello?" He suddenly flinches and leans away from his phone. "Yes, I'm with Jamil. You don't have to yell, Floyd. Hm? Alright, I'll put you on speaker." He clicks something on his phone and holds it face up. "Go ahead."

"Sea Snake! Can you hear me?" Floyd’s voice says excitedly.

"Floyd?" Jamil asks, giving Azul a confused glance. "What's all this about?"

"Let's have a sleepover! Flame Tetra doesn't wanna go back to RSA yet, and I'm sure you and Octy are havin' fun smooching, anyway! Come here to Octavinelle!"

"We're not smooching!" Jamil hurriedly corrects him, feeling his face warm. "More importantly, what? A sleepover? Did Azul and Rielle's school approve of this?"

"Rielle, are you there? We did not ask Headmage's permission about this," Azul says worriedly.

"I did, Azul," Rielle's voice reassures them. "I told Headmage that it would be safer for you to just spend the night here instead of travel all the way back to RSA, and I said that I'd help with coordinations in the Halloween preparations while I'm here. I didn't think you'd mind. It's okay, right…?"

Azul blinks in surprise. "I… Yes, it's alright. As long as you wouldn't get in trouble for this."

"See? It's fine, Sea Snake!" Floyd cuts in. "We can have a double date sleepover here on our rooftop! It'll be fun!"

Jamil purses his lips. "I don't know about date, but…" He glances at Azul, a playful glint in his eyes. "Azul did just say he owes me dinner, so..." He shrugs. "Why not? I'll have to tell the rest of Scarabia I won't be around the dorm tonight, though, so you'll have to wait a bit. What do you say?” he asks Azul. “You up for it?"

Azul covers the mic of his phone. "Another reason to spend time with you? Of course," he says quietly as the corner of his lips turns up in a smile.

"Hm-hm. 'It's a Deal', then," Jamil happily remarks.

Jamil finds himself standing with Azul in Octavinelle, right at the path leading to the main dorm building.

He has packed a whole duffel bag's worth of personal toiletries, board games, clothes and items that could prove useful for both him and Azul.

Jade stands by the door, as diligent as ever. "Good evening. It's a pleasure to see that you are both doing a lot better now."

"How did you know we were even ill in the first place?" Jamil asks, wary.

"I am friends with Rielle, of course. Friends tell each other all sorts of things," Jade grins.

"Charmingly ominous as ever, Jade," Azul says fondly. "I presume you're included in this sleepover?"

"Why, of course," Jade says. "I was not able to join Floyd back then in his reunion with you and Rielle. I would like to take this opportunity to make up for it." He turns to Jamil. "I must say I'm happy to see that you've become… very good friends… with Azul," he says implicatively with his usual smile.

Jamil squints at Jade. He has not forgotten the way the eel teased him when he first got to know Azul. "... If you don't mind me asking, how did the first day of Halloween Week go?"

"Oh it went well! All the booths are looking lovely, and the budget for each dorm has been balanced," Jade replies.

"I look forward to seeing all of your booths," Azul says sincerely, his coat draped over his shoulders.

"And I look forward to RSA's performances!" Jade says cheerfully before gesturing behind him. "Shall we?"

"How many visitors were there on the first day?" Jamil asks as he and Azul follow Jade into Octavinelle's halls.

"About 200, though most of them had visited Pomefiore, Diasomnia, and Savanaclaw's booths. Our celebrity schoolmates remain the most popular," Jade chuckles. "It's a relief for Octavinelle, since it gave us more time to improve our booth. Is Scarabia planning anything else apart from your impressive booth at Sam's shop?"

"I'm not sure. I only helped with the concept and planning. If you really wanna know, you'll have to ask my Vice. He's part of your Halloween Committee, after all," Jamil shrugs. "How's your lil' café idea? I never thought you'd be interested in running such a business."

"Azul suggested it," Jade glances back at his fellow merfolk. "I wanted a way to fund and promote the Mountain Lovers Club, and he gave me the idea to make dishes out of the plants I gather and use them as advertisements. After I learned of his penchant for cooking and managing, I offered for him to be co-manager."

"I was surprised that your Prefect doesn't mind it," Azul says. "I thought there would be more resistance to the idea of an RSA student having such a position in his dorm."

"Rey doesn't mind much of anything," Jade chuckles, referring to his Prefect's carefree nature. "I believe that the café would be ready to be established a week or two after Halloween."

"Interesting. I'd like to take a look around and see it for myself when the time comes then, if you don't mind," Jamil comments, genuine. "I'd like to see what minds like Azul’s and Jade's can concoct."

"Of course," Jade smiles. "We'd love to have you be the first to see it."

They reach the rooftop, and they hear the sound of Floyd's gleeful laughter.

Jade’s twin notices them come up. "You're here! I got a couple more guests!"

"Sup," Ace says, wearing a hoodie and sitting cross-legged on the large picnic blanket beside Floyd.

"I was told there'd be free food," Ruggie says, wearing a jacket and sitting beside Ace.

Jamil pauses and stares at the cozy ensemble.

"Did not expect this group of people together. Especially you, Ace. You're not gonna get in trouble with Riddle for this?"

"Nah, first day of Halloweek went well so he's in a good mood," Ace says. "And he let me join when I said that Rielle and Azul would be here. Something about how hanging out with RSA might improve my attitude. I dunno what he's talking about but hey, I'm here."

"Floyd ran into us in the main kitchen and invited us," Ruggie adds. "Leona didn't mind either."

Jamil took a seat with Azul, surprised. "Leona was in the kitchen with you at school? Are you finally trying to get him to cook for himself for once?"

"Yeah, I still can't get him to cook vegetable dishes, but we're getting there," Ruggie says. "Floyd invited him too, but he said he'd rather go to sleep already."

"We hope you don't mind such a spontaneous invitation," Rielle smiles and addresses all of them.

"I suppose that depends on what you two have planned for all of us," Jamil says carefully. "As much as I'd like to trust you, Rielle, your bias towards Floyd and his tendencies can make things… unpredictably dicey.”

Rielle laughs good-naturedly. "Understandable."

Floyd scrunches up his face. "Plan? I don't plan things, Sea Snake. Who am I, Jade? Whatever happens, happens!"

"I can't decide if that's better or worse," Ace says.

Ruggie snickers. "It'll be entertaining for sure."

"I did plan a few things," Jade says with an unreadable smile.

"Oh, speaking of plans," Azul turns to Jade. "I was thinking of cooking earlier. May I use your kitchen? I can make dinner for all of us."

"Oh my, of course! We would be honored," Jade says then turns to everyone else. "Does anyone else want to help Azul cook? The rest can stay here and play the games I have in mind.”

That's enough incentive for Jamil to leave. "You know what? I can go and help you out," he tells Azul.

"Me too," Ruggie nods, standing up.

"Me three, but I don't know anything about cooking," Ace quickly agrees, scrambling to stand. "No way do I wanna be the only one at the Leeches' mercy."

"Oh, well now I don't feel comfortable doing nothing while the rest of you work," Rielle says.

"We can clean up after they cook as our part of the chores," Jade reassures him.

"And you can tell us all about Octy while we wait for them," Floyd grins. "We didn't get to hang out much with y'all back then when you stole him from us," he pouts.

"I believe it was because you said you didn't want to spend time with the 'prissy royals and nepo babies'," Jade tells Floyd helpfully.

"And now I do!" Floyd says without missing a beat. "And Flame Tetra's not prissy, he's super cool!" he turns to Rielle. "Are Octy’s tentacles still chewy? Is he still delish?"

Rielle laughs. "Ah, it never crossed my mind to take a bite of Azul's limbs, so I wouldn't know whether or not he's 'delish'."

Ace leans in towards Ruggie and whispers, "Jamil might know."

They both snicker.

Jamil scowls at them. "Well, it looks like Ace and Ruggie are up for some conversations and games, after all. You're free to stay here. Come on, Azul."

"Hey!" Ace complains.

"Hm?" Azul says in confusion. He didn't seem to have heard what Ace had just said. "Did they say something?" he looks in turn at Ruggie and Ace, who had both decided right at this moment to stay completely silent.

"They're just leeching off of Floyd's usual remarks." Jamil rolls his eyes.

"Heh, leeching off Floyd Leech," Ruggie mutters, then falls silent again when Jamil looks at him.

"Do any of you know the way to Octavinelle's kitchen? Or shall Jade take us?" Azul asks.

All three other boys shake their heads.

"Hm… Would you mind if it's just the two of you for a moment?" Jade asks his brother. "Or you are free to come with us and chat and play in the kitchens for a while."

"Ooh! Yeah let's play in the kitchen!" Floyd stands up and pulls Rielle along with him.

Ace groans. "Man, all of us just ended up going to the kitchen."

"You are free to stay here if you like," Jade says in amusement.

"Nahhh I'd just get bored here by myself," Ace complains.

All of them begin to make their way back in the corridors and to the kitchen, with Floyd serving as a tour guide and telling them potentially made-up stories about Octavinelle's history.

Author's Note:

Schedule was a bit tight during the holidays so I wasn't able to upload last week, thank you for your patience! I hope you liked this chapter ^_^

<- Chapter 17

Chapter 19 ->

(Masterlist)

[2ugarystars]

gorgeous visage, soulful gaze, lilting voice !!!!!!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

gorgeous visage ୧ ‧₊˚ does ur fﾉo keep photos of u in their wallet ? or do they maybe have a locket of ur hair ? what about u ? how much evidence do u keep of them in ur day to day life ?

They both have A LOT pictures of each other in their wallets, showing it to people and saying "hey this is my husband,,, I love my husband." Sam also hoards A LOT of things that Enoch gives him and brings some with him around whenever he goes out, especially the letters he sent!

soulful gaze ୧ ‧₊˚ they say the eyes are the window to the soul. u look fixedly into ur fﾉo’s eyes and see an emotion so raw and undoubtedly pure, so real that it fills your chest with something indescribable. what is that emotion ?

Idkkk how to describe it but like, something that is so horrifying but beautiful? Like staring off into the void or space itself. Like a uncanny beauty to it., witnessing something beyond your comprehension. <:3c

lilting voice ୧ ‧₊˚ how does their voice sound to u ? what does their laughter sound like to ur ears ? do their whispers sound like the most saccharine song of the nightingales ? is their tone as smooth and rich as velvet or is it scratchy, a little grating, but nonetheless charming in its own way ? is it possibly that they don’t have a voice at all ? if not, do their other ways of communication still captivate you ?

Guhh,,, I have been trying to find the best voice claim for Enoch but I'd imagine it being a low toned voice with a slight boston/French accent, like how a giant bossman usually sounds! His heart laughter, his tone, Thinking about it makes me all flushed for himmm,,

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[norabrice1701]

Shadow

 A dark!hypnotist Brühl x Fem!Reader AU

Summary: His phantom still lingers. His shadow is always with you.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Explicit 18+ NSFW smut (including heavy dub-con/non-con sexual intercourse); explicit language; social anxiety; manipulative character; morally irredeemable use of hypnosis; reader trauma & distress afterwards; seriously, this is dark

A/N: Before my Sam Neill character spiral continues, wanted to get this one finished! Please heed the warnings on this one - there is very little redeeming about this one.

"Just one more look at you, my heart has been hypnotized"  - "Hypnotized", Years & Years

His voice still haunts you. 

Despite the doctor's reassurances. Despite the mind-numbing medication. Despite your husband's insistence.

His phantom still lingers. His shadow is always with you.

“You’ll never get me out. You’ll never let me go.” 

A shudder courses through you even though you’re safe under the covers of your bed. Cold rain sluices in sluggish waves against the window, and grey light paints your bedroom in shrouded colors. The warmth of your bed covers does little for the pallor of your cheeks, though.

How could it when his fingers still whisper against your skin? When the hellfire of his touch still sears and brands you? 

“Oh, my angel. When the devil wants to dance, do you think you can refuse him?” 

You close your eyes against the persistence of memory. 

The party dragged on for hours now. Even before marriage to your society-pages husband, you found the endless parade of formal events in stuffy mansions tedious. Fortunately, your husband didn’t insist that you stay on his arm all evening, and you could escape to find quiet moments of reprieve. Moments where you could breathe and try to reign in the anxious nerves that always made you uneasy during large social gatherings. 

You’d never been able to explain why crowds made your skin crawl and your heart race. But your parents had heard none of it, and your husband wasn’t willing to listen, either. So instead, you found your own refuge. The heavy mahogany doors of the host’s library were open when you found them, but you closed them swiftly behind you. Mercifully, the din of the party beyond faded, and you reveled in the silence around you. 

The gentle crackle of a dying fire along the opposite wall soothed you as you took deep, calming breaths. For the first time in hours, you felt like you could breathe. Taking steps into the cozy, shadowed room, you scanned the imposing collection of leather-bound volumes, stately bookcases, and plush furniture designed for hours of mental pursuits. A smile tugged at your lips - your first genuine one of the evening. If you could spend all of your evenings tucked away in such a room, you would want for little else. 

You walked up to a bookcase opposite the fireplace, running your fingers along the textured spines. The warmth of the fire danced along your skin as you breathed the comforting scents of old leather and musty paper. All of it soothed your unease, bringing a sense of calm peace that you hadn’t known since arriving on your husband’s arm. 

The heavy door whispered open on a silent hinge, but dark movement caught in your peripheral. You withdrew your hand from the books, ready to make your fearful apologies to the host. You weren’t a thief, and you weren’t snooping - hopefully the host would understand. Except… the man half-veiled in shadow wasn’t the host. 

Honestly, you didn’t recognize him, and you couldn’t discern too much about him. He wore a dark, formal suit as befitting the party, and well-coiffed brown hair crowned his head. The flickering firelight cast handsome, intriguing shadows across his visage, but his glittering brown eyes were worlds unto themselves.

A fearful shiver raced down your spine as you forgot how to breathe, how to move. “I-I’m sorry - please, I wasn’t prying.” 

He shook his head dismissively. “You needn’t apologize to me. This is not my home.” 

You fought the urge to wring your hands under his unnerving stare. “I know, but I… I-.”

“You also needn’t be so nervous.” He walked further into the room, the dark fabric of his suit melting into the surroundings. “In fact, you look positively stricken, and - if I’m being honest - you have all evening.” His voice carried a mellifluous cadence with a lush, deep rasp, and it wrapped around you like velvet. “I would love to help you, if I may.” 

His sharp gaze held yours with focused intensity, and your mouth went dry. You wet your top lip, fumbling for words against a growing fog in your mind. “How did you even know that I was here?” 

The illuminated corner of his mouth lifted, and you instinctively recognized its sinister edge but your body continued to relax as he spoke. “Any man would notice an angel of your beauty taking her leave.” 

Heat flared on your skin despite the weight of your wedding ring that suddenly felt like lead. “I-I’m a married woman.” 

“Then, it is most telling that I found you here while your husband did not.” 

Your head swam and you knew you should leave, but your feet refused to move. You drew another deep breath, unable to look away from him. “If you knew him, then that wouldn’t surprise you.” 

He hummed, the sound low and enticing. “I do know him, and this does not surprise me.” 

His mesmerizing gaze continued to bore through you, and the creepy severity of it flickered in your mind before evaporating just as quick. “Well… I-I don’t know you.” You said, taking a breath of the unnervingly thick and cloying air. “W-who are you?” 

His mouth upturned in fleeting dismissal as he waved an elegant hand, the motion spidery in the dancing firelight. “I am no one of consequence, and my name is… irrelevant.” He took a step forward, staying half-concealed in the shadows and backlit against the fire. “Especially when there are far more interesting pursuits for the course of our conversation.” 

Fear crawled up your spine but you were powerless to heed its warning. You gasped for breath, heart pounding and impossibly dizzy as the fire’s heat burned your skin. What was wrong with you? Had you fallen ill? 

Another discomforting shiver raced through you.

He shook his head gently, the shadows playing over his pale skin. “But this simply won’t do.” He beckoned you forward with a gentle wave of his hand. “Come closer, my angel.” 

Your feet moved without your permission as your eyes saw only him. You shouldn't - you knew that you should run for the door as the scent of his intoxicating cologne filled your nose - but with each passing second, that knowledge faded into oblivion. And the weight of your wedding ring vanished. 

Up close, glints of amber sparkled in his dark eyes. Golden shards that flayed you open and stripped you bare. The force of the thought floored you, warring with a different heat growing on your skin and burning between your legs. 

His mouth curled with an insufferably pleased edge as he continued to look at you. “And now, my angel.” His voice dropped to a low octave, thick and enticing with poisoned honey. “Tell me why this evening has you so unsettled.” 

A drunken haze clouded your thoughts, and you couldn’t summon the will to resist. “I’ve… never liked being around so many people.” 

“And why is that?” His words purred so close to your ear, and his cologne suffocated you. 

“I-I never know what to say. Afraid that I’ll say the wrong thing, afraid that I’ll….”

His fingers brushed your arm, the touch scorching and electrifying and… wrong. "You may be able to hide from everyone else, but not from me." His breath burned the shell of your ear as he spoke. “Tell me.” 

“... A-afraid that I’ll say too much, and… people will judge me for who I am.” You cringed at your admission and the unrelenting, dizzying presence of him. Your body continued to betray the dying protests of your mind, heating under his touch with the ache of arousal. 

Disgust rippled through you but you couldn’t break free. Revulsion flared in your gut as his hand continued to trail up your arm even though your core smoldered with liquid heat. Words formed in your mind to call out for help, but they choked in your throat. 

His lips danced against your ear, his rumbling voice bypassing the last vestiges of your sanity. “The divine does not fear the judgment of mortals, my angel.” A strong hand fell to your waist, drawing you closer, and you inhaled sharply as his words continued to pour into your ear. “Flowers bloom with no regret. Flowers bloom with no fear. And, so should you.” 

The world spun, and you lost your feet. Your back pressed against the plush cushions of the couch under his enveloping weight as the breath knocked from your chest. His touch felt too hot, his skin too soft, his lips too rough. His kiss consumed you, and you struggled to respond. Feebly, you raised a hand to his shoulder, pawing at the fine fabric of his suit. He groaned, the sound captivating and numbing. 

A tear stung your eye as you tried to push him away with deadened movements. Your tongue felt impossibly thick in your mouth as you whimpered. “Please… d-don-.” 

“Oh, my angel,” he rasped with smug satisfaction as the heavy weight of his hand settled to your thigh and crept under your dress. “When the devil wants to dance, do you think you can refuse him?” 

Another whimper passed your lips as his fingers branded your inner-thigh on his journey upward. His groan washed over you in a wave of delirium, and his voice fueled the haze in your mind. “How have you bloomed for me, my angel?” 

You whimpered, shame flaring in your chest as he teased through your dripping folds. He stroked you several times, coating his fingers and letting you feel how thoroughly your body had betrayed you. When he started to stroke with maddening, circling pressure, your hips rocked unbidden into his touch. 

The corner of his mouth lifted, dark and predatory. “No regret, no fear - remember?” 

Another tear stung your eye as his fingers found a delicious rhythm, sending sparks of dark promise up your spine. With each pass, your core ached for satisfaction, drunk on his touch and lost to his words. You didn’t recognize your voice as you moaned for him and clutched his broad shoulders. 

The pressure mounted inside you with alarming speed, but his fingers disappeared all too soon. You gasped for breath, whimpering as you bit back the urge to beg him for more. You didn’t want this - you didn’t want him - you didn’t want his pleasure pulsing through you.  

… Right? 

“Open your eyes, my angel.” His words commanded your obedience, and you squinted against the sharp firelight. 

His beautiful eyes shone black with hunger, his face dark with wicked sin. The flickering golden light caught on his fingers that glistened with your aroused slick. Shame washed over you at the evidence of your unforgivable desire. As if in a dream, you watched his eyes fall to his wet fingers and draw them to his lips. He moaned, savoring your taste for a long moment before he purred with deep-seated satisfaction. “Ripe with such sweet nectar. Divine as I knew you would be.” 

His damp hand moved to yours, bringing it between his legs to press against his straining erection. You gasped as revulsion crawled down your spine. Sluggishly, with arms that didn’t feel like yours, you tried to pull back, but he pressed your hand tighter against him to draw a low moan from his chest before he spoke. “But I am not so callous as to satisfy my own thirst at the expense of my angel’s.” 

Your hand fell limp back to the sofa and the distant shuffling of clothing sounded over the dull buzz in your ears. After all, without his voice, what else was there to hear? He braced himself, pressing against you, and the thick, imposing weight of his cock settled against your soaked entrance. 

He swallowed your cry as he pushed inside, the stretch of him stinging and burning with pained pleasure. Your world reduced to the thick pulse of him inside you, touching the deepest parts of your being. You drew a shaking breath, trembling against his lips. “Oh, God….” 

“Yes,” he breathed. “Call me God - for surely, being inside you must be heaven.” 

His hips rocked back before he surged forward, searing you from the inside out. Your mind splintered and your soul fractured as your body reached new heights with each thrust. Numbly, you clutched at him, and helplessly, you listened to him. “You’ll never get me out.” He growled, filling your body and clouding your mind. “You’ll never let me go.” 

And blindly, you surrendered to him - shattering around the deep press of him in devastating rapture. 

Even now, almost two weeks later, you don’t know how long you had stayed on the sofa afterwards until your husband found you. He said you were stunned and slurring your words, babbling as if drugged. He said you were assaulted, and pressed you for any information about your attacker. He said you were in shock from trauma, and with time, you would find yourself right as rain again. 

But how can that possibly be true? When every time you close your eyes, you see those glittering drops of amber in dark brown seas? When all you hear is his enthralling voice in your mind? His sickening words that roil your stomach and churn shameful arousal in your core? 

You can’t explain it. Perhaps you never will be able to. It’s impossible to understand how one man has so effortlessly taken you apart and rebuilt you in the memory of his shadow. His shadow that lurks at the foot of your bed, beside you, inside you as the medication takes hold.