#so if all goes well I might mount him

[blackbackedjackal]

First roadkill of the year! Chunky male opossum.

[thelibraryofsylphide]

Aurelion Sol, the Star Forger

[happyhauntt]

a touch of colour — eddie diaz.

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: eddie and chris' home is freakishly empty. you decide to redecorate a little.

─── pairing: eddie diaz x reader.

─── warnings & notes: fluffy fluff. no use of y/n, this was just supposed to be a short drabble but it ran aay from me and eddie might seem a little ooc but i don't even care it's so cute.

─── word count: 2.7k.

     “BUCK, CAN I BORROW YOUR KEY to Eddie’s place, please?”

     Your arrival at the station house isn’t preceded by any warning, and though it isn’t your intention to sneak up on Buck, he doesn’t seem to hear you coming. A panicked shriek tears itself from his throat as he drops what he’s holding, and the spray bottle full of cleaning fluid clatters to the floor at your feet.

     An amused smile curls at your lips as he tries to play it off, ducking his head to hide the embarrassment blossoming in bright red spots across his cheeks.

     “Uh, hey.” The words stumble out of Buck and he coughs, trying to recover what remains of his dignity. “You know, sneaking up on people isn’t good for your health. What if I’d panicked and thrown a punch or something?”

     You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You did panic, Buck. Seems like it’s worse for your health than mine. Key, please?”

     “Eddie’s just up in the loft, I can grab him if you want.”

     It’s your turn to look a little sheepish. “Please don’t. It’s a surprise. Or it will be a surprise, if you let me borrow your key. I’ll return it tomorrow, I promise, and I’m not going to let a bunch of raccoons loose in there or anything━”

     Buck blinks. The hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, just enough to let you know that he’s teasing. Mostly. “I wasn’t worried, but now I am.”

     “I’m saving the raccoons for your apartment, actually,” you tell him, and now you’re not even really asking anymore, know that Buck will inevitably break because you’re Eddie’s girlfriend, and he actually likes you, and most importantly, his insatiable curiosity will not allow him to deny you. Hand outstretched, you wiggle your fingers expectantly. “Key, please.”

     He huffs at you as if you’ve asked him to scale Mount Everest in nothing but swim trunks, rather than the perfectly reasonable request you’ve actually made, and makes a show of tugging the key to Eddie’s house off the keyring before passing it along to you.

     “I have only one condition,” says Buck, a mischievous gleam in his eye as he presses the key into your palm.

     You watch him warily. You’ve been dating Eddie, and subsequently been acquainted with Buck, long enough to recognise that look. “What?”

     “Whatever you’re doing, make sure you film his reaction. I’ve got a funny feeling he’s gonna freak out.”

     A nervous laugh bubbles in your throat, and you can’t help rolling your lips together as you pocket the key. It doesn’t take a genius to know that Eddie Diaz isn’t overly fond of surprises, but… fuck, you hope this one goes down well.

      “I’ll keep you posted, Buck.” You offer him a two-fingered salute and turn on your heel, hurrying out of the firehouse before Eddie catches you sneaking around.

      What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, right?

     Here’s the thing.

     The first time Eddie invited you back to his place, you hadn’t really seen it. A euphoric haze had clouded all rational thought in your brain, because this brilliant guy you’d fallen head over heels for was so obviously guarded, and you’d been so happy the day he’d kissed you and invited you back to his place for coffee.

     You’d been dating for three months by that point, and you’d wandered in and out of his house without really seeing anything except for him.

     Meeting Christopher had gone much the same way. On the drive over you’d been rattling with nerves so much that you’d had to pull over on the freeway and shake out the cramp in your hand after white-knuckling the steering wheel. Your heart had thudded so hard in your chest that you worried Eddie would be able to hear it from the other side of the room.

     There had been nothing to worry about, in the end, and almost a year on, you’re certain that neither of these boys can be pried out of the space they’ve created in your heart. Somehow, without really noticing, the pair of them have made a home there, built on a foundation of blood and muscle and all the love in your body.

     You’re not sure your heart would know how to beat without them now.

      And you love them, you love them, you love them both with everything you have…

     … but this damn house is driving you insane.

     There’s nothing wrong with it, in particular. It’s small and functional, perfect for the little family it shelters. Beige walls, basic furniture, sparse decorations that Eddie definitely had nothing to do with, and that’s sort of… it.

     Now, you’re not an interior decorator, and you’d managed to miss it the first few times you visited, but now it’s like the blank walls are mocking you. Now you’ve seen it, you know, and the stark bleakness of this house has become a glaringly obvious problem that you’ve finally decided to tackle.

     Unlocking the door with Buck’s key, you manage to nudge it open with your hip, hands and wrists weighed down with Target shopping bags that you dump on the floor the moment the door is closed. Tucking Buck’s key back into your pocket ━ Eddie gave you a key almost six months ago, but you’ve managed to lose four of them since, so it’s widely agreed that it’s best you borrow Eddie’s or Buck’s or Carla’s whenever you need to ━ you turn to the sparse open space of the kitchen/diner.

     Hands settling on your hips, a slow breath escapes through your teeth as you survey the house. Christopher’s room is the only one with any personality, and you wouldn’t dare intrude on his privacy in that way anyway. Eddie’s room, similarly, feels off-limits.

     But the rest of the house? Fair game.

     When Eddie stumbles through the front door at the end of his shift, he doesn’t notice it right away. Not your bag hanging on a hook by the door, or your shoes tucked neatly against the wall. His head feels like it’s filled with cotton after a twelve-hour shift, and he’s simply grateful that Carla offered to drop Christopher off later, rather than have Eddie come pick him up after his shift.

     He doesn’t notice you lingering in the kitchen with a bottle of beer in your hand until you clear your throat, and then he looks over, and a tired smile spreads over his face.

     “That for me?” he asks, as hold out the beer bottle towards him, drops of condensation soaking your fingers.

     “It’s definitely not for me.” You wrinkle your nose playfully as he accepts the drink, and you lean over the counter to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. You hand over Buck’s key, and with it, all the anxiety you’ve felt since it first landed in your possession that morning. “Give this back to Buck for me? If I lose another one, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

     Eddie chuckles and tucks the key into his pocket. “Buck didn’t mention you came by the firehouse.”

     “I asked him not to.” Your voice wavers, just a little. The way you’re picking at a loose bit of skin near your thumb lets him know you’re nervous, and he reaches out with his free hand, curling rough fingers around your own. Unable to help yourself, a deluge of words start to babble out of you. “I did a thing. And I’m aware that you may not like the thing, and it almost certainly wasn’t my place which I’m realising now, but it seemed like a pretty harmless idea at the time?”

     “Baby━”

     “And if you hate it, I can take it all away! We can pretend I never did it, it’s just that your walls were driving me freaking insane, like which decorator decided that beige was a good base colour because I would like to have a word━”

     “Hey!” A gentle squeeze of your hand grabs your attention, and when you look back at Eddie, the sight of him knocks the breath of you. You never knew eyes could be so big and brown and full of love, and even though there’s a little humour glinting in there at your expense, you still find it a little difficult to breathe.

     Fuck, you love this man.

     “What am I supposed to hate, exactly?” There’s a lilt of laughter in his voice, a gentle quirk to the corner of his mouth.

     You want to kiss him until it blossoms into a full-blown grin. You hope you’re lucky enough to make this man laugh forever.

     The look on his face helps to ease the tension in your shoulders. Slowly, you reach out and take the beer bottle from his grip, setting it on the counter. Instead, you replace it with your own hand, threading your fingers through his, a little chilly where the bottle pressed against his skin.

     “Let me show you.”

     Guiding him by the hand, you lead him through to the living room, and at first, he’s not sure what’s changed. There’s still the couch, and the TV, and the coffee table he knows you’ve always hated because it’s glass, and who has a glass coffee table, Eddie, you're a firefighter and this feels like a recipe for disaster!

     (You’ve seen way too many movies where characters end up crashing through a glass coffee table but you still think it’s a valid point.)

     And then he sees them.

     He spots the first one next to the television; a picture of Chris from a few months ago, the first time all three of you went to the beach together. He’s grinning at the camera and there’s a dab of ice-cream on his nose from where you swiped him just a moment before. Eddie remembers taking this and sending it to you.

     It wasn’t the first moment he realised he loved you, not by a long shot, but he hadn’t said it yet, and that day on the beach had cemented your place in his heart even further.

     The picture is small, sitting in a quirky silver frame that you’ve glued a few seashells to.

     The next two are over on the mantel. A photograph of the 118 in Bobby and Athena’s backyard last summer; Bobby’s frowning in the foreground, having been bullied into wearing a Kiss The Cook apron by Buck and Hen, while the rest of them are howling with laughter behind him. The other is a picture of Christopher and Shannon cuddled together beneath the Christmas tree.

     Tucked between them, bizarrely, is a little wooden figurine of a runner duck wearing galoshes. This one, he knows, came from your personal collection.

     Eddie’s heart stutters in his chest as he turns, finally, to the big thing. The wall behind the couch has always been depressingly bare, a dull expanse of beige paint that he’s always sworn he’d do something with, eventually.

     Hell, the whole house is bare. And depressing. This, he’s ready to admit, even if the reason for it used to sting a little bit.

     Before now, the only personal touches in his home belonged to Christopher. Report cards and drawings stuck to the fridge with kitschy magnets from tourist spots. An ever-changing pile of video games stacked on the floor next to the TV. A dinosaur-print throw that was dragged from Christopher’s bedroom on a lazy Sunday that hasn’t quite managed to migrate back there yet.

     It was never that way on purpose. At first, he thinks, it was a reluctance to put down roots. Life was hectic enough, with his work schedule and Christopher switching schools. Before Carla, Eddie hardly had a moment to breathe, let alone think about decorating their home beyond the bare minimum required to get by.

     And then, he thinks, it might have been guilt.

     He doesn’t dare to dwell on that for too long. He feels your hand in his own, steady as a rock, and stares, glassy-eyed, at the wall you’ve managed to transform into something… something that feels like home.

     A collage of wooden picture frames are scattered over the surface of the wall, in varying hues of warmth that contrast nicely with the beige that peeks through the cracks. A beige that, formerly, kind of made him want to scratch his eyes out. He hadn’t quite realised that until now.

     Dozens of smiling faces peer down at him. A handful of memories he holds most dear, and each of them sends a flush of warmth through his chest.

     There’s the day Chris was born, and he’s staring at this tiny baby in his arms as if he’s holding the sun and stars themselves. There’s Buck and Chris at the zoo, posing near the penguin exhibit. There’s Eddie, on the day he was certified as a full-fledged member of the LAFD, shaking Bobby’s hand. There’s even a picture where he’s fallen asleep on the couch, and his sisters are brandishing Sharpies like the little demons they are, drawing a moustache and beard that took days to properly fade away.

     It’s such a little thing, really. They’re just pictures. But his throat feels tight and his eyes are wet and it doesn’t feel little to him. Not at all.

     “You thought I’d hate this?” He’ll never admit that the words come out a little choked up.

     You shrug. “You’re not a fan of surprises.”

     “I might be now.”

     And you both know it’s not true, that Eddie will never be that guy, but this is fine. This is perfect, and he’s damn sure it might be the nicest thing any girlfriend’s ever done for him.

     He turns to you, a thousand more questions on the tip of his tongue, when he notices you’re holding your phone up with your free hand. A confused furrow appears between his brows.

     “Buck,” you tell him, and it really doesn’t require further explanation, but still you add, “He thought you’d freak out. Asked for evidence.”

     “Ah.” Eddie nods. You put your phone away as he winds his arms around your waist, pulling you close enough to kiss the tip of your nose. “I’m not freaking out.”

     “I noticed.”

     “Thank you,” he says, and kisses you again. This time his mouth slides against yours and lingers there for a few seconds, slow and gentle. “I can’t help but notice you’re not in any of the pictures.”

     Your cheeks turn a rosy pink. “That would have been a little presumptuous of me, Mr. Diaz. And I was already hijacking your home for my own selfish agenda, so…”

     “Wanna hijack it some more?”

     The question slips out without any warning, and you blink up at your boyfriend in bewilderment. “Uh?”

     Eddie smiles, wide and wonderful, and even though it’s not possible to fall more in love with him, you think you do.

     “I talked to Chris about it a while ago,” he tells you, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your hip. “I was just waiting for the right time to ask you. And then you went all House Flipper anyway━”

     “I did not go all House Flipper!”

     “━ so it feels like the right time to ask.”

     You watch him for a moment, all soft at the edges. “You want me to move in with you?”

     “I think you’ve got a tartan throw that would look great in here,” he says teasingly, “and that little duck is part of a collection. He might get lonely.”

     “He might,” you concede with a hum.

     There is enough space on that mantel for the whole family.

     You feel like there’s a tiny sun in your chest, like you might honest-to-God be glowing from the inside out right now, and when you pull Eddie down so you can kiss him again, you know without a doubt that the answer is yes.

     There are a hundred things to figure out. You have a lease to get out of, and an apartment filled with enough clutter to furnish ten houses, and you’ve really got to figure out a solution for the key situation, because it’s getting ridiculous.

     But in this moment, none of that matters. It’s you, and Eddie, and Chris, and a bare apartment suddenly filled with a lifetime of potential, and you just know everything is going to be fine.

     And you hope, for a moment, that he’ll let you replace the couch next.

[strangersteddierthings]

Bad News First, Eddie

Part One 🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇FInal Part

"Bad news first, Eddie," Steve sighs as he leans back on his heels, cleaner in one hand and a rag in the other. "They vandalized your headstone again. Good news, I beat Wayne out here so he won't be seeing it."

It's been over a year since they'd had to leave Eddie behind. He'd been cleared of the murders. That had been the easy part, since the Upside Down had exploded out into the Rightside Up. When Vecna started killing people it had been pretty easy for people to realize Eddie was just another victim.

Or so Steve had thought.

Eleven saved them all, the people of Hawkins knew the truth, yet Steve still found graffiti on Eddie's grave.

Eddie's grave is empty, because Eddie's body hadn't been recovered. Too much had happened, no time to mount an expedition to retrieve it, and the gates were closed. Another regret Steve lives with.

Like not taking Eddie's face between his hands and looking him dead in the eye when he told them not to be heroes.

Late at night, Steve sometimes imagines he did just that. Looked him dead in the eyes and said, "there is no shame in running, in living to see another day. Don't be a hero because I need you to be okay tomorrow."

Robin says it's not good for his mental health, these what-if scenarios, but so what?

Steve isn't sure what started it but coming out here to talk to Eddie seems to help him clear his thoughts. He always starts with the bad news, Eddie's voice in the back of his mind. Bad news first, always.

The first time Wayne had caught him out here, Wayne thought he was vandalizing. Had scared Steve half to death being yanked back violently by his upper arm. It didn't take Wayne long for his eyes to process that Steve wasn't holding paint.

"You know my boy?" Wayne always spoke in the present tense about Eddie.

"Not as well as I would have liked, sir," Steve swallowed thickly. It was the start of a friendship, of sorts. Wayne seemed happy to have someone to tell stories about Eddie to, and Steve was happy to learn about Eddie.

Months pass and Steve goes every week.

"Bad news. The new guitarist is mediocre at best. Good news. Corroded Coffin lives on and they finally got a new guitarist."

"Bad news. Robin will not shut up about Vickie. Good news. Robin got that date she wanted."

"Bad news. Wayne had an accident at the plant. Good news, he's okay. I think... this might be weird to you, but I've convinced him to move in, at least until he's healed fully so he's not alone. He's staying in the downstairs guest room. Not that you know where that is. You've never even been to my house... bad news, you've never been to my house. Good news, I really wish you had."

So it goes. Wayne Munson moves in and never moves out. Steve's parents call once, to ask if he wants the house. Steve says yes.

Shortly after, Robin takes a room upstairs. Says she gonna take a year off school before college. The Party moves their dnd games to Steve's giant dining room table. His house is always full but part of Steve feels empty.

"B-bad news," Steve forces the words out around the lump in his throat, "I found out too late. Good news, I'm bisexual. Bad news, good news? I don't know man, the news is I could have loved you. I think I do, but that's the you Wayne and the kids tell me about, so who is to say really."

So it goes.

"Bad news. They're seniors this year, Eds. Seniors! Robin going away to college was bad enough. I don't know if I'll even know how to function when they do. 'Cause they're gonna, you know? They're smart. Too smart to stay in this town," Steve is crying, can feel the tears falling, but doesn't stop them. "I know I should go, too. Somewhere else. Anywhere else. But I can't leave. Wayne's here. You're here. And if I go, who will look after either of you?"

"Bad news. College acceptance letters have come in. They're not even graduated yet. This should be good news, but, heh, friends don't lie."

"Bad news, Eds. I can't remember your voice. I didn't think.... I feel like I remember it but I can't hear it. I want to hear it. I-i need-" Steve doesn't know what he needs, doesn't know how to end that sentence so he just sobs, fingers burying themselves into the dirt of an empty grave.

Wayne gets a phone call one day and says he's gotta go back to Tennessee. Eddie's father -that rocks Steve because while he knows Wayne was Eddie's uncle, he never connected that a father was somewhere out there- Eddie's father, Wayne's younger brother, needs him.

Steve drives Wayne to the airport in Indianapolis. Wayne promises he'll return but Steve won't hold him to that. This is family, and as much as Steve pretends, he isn't Wayne's nephew. Isn't Wayne's family.

As Wayne disappears onto his flight, Steve is left hollow. There's no one left in Hawkins that needs him.

"Bad news, Eds. I think I'm a danger to myself. I keep having these thoughts... like how easy it would be to drive my car into the quarry. Or just slip into the pool and take a deep breath. I don't know who I am, or how to be me, without someone needing me."

Wayne calls and tells him he's coming home. Bringing a guest if that's ok. Steve says okay because he needs to meet the man who taught Eddie how to hot wire a car but not play catch. Also, he hopes to hear Eddie in his voice when they speak.

"Bad news, Eds. I'm too much of a coward to meet your old man. Afraid of what he'll sound like. Because I want him to sound like you so fucking bad it hurts. So instead of being home, I'm hiding here."

And then, a miracle happens.

"Well, I've some bad news for you, too, Stevie. I got my voice from my mom."

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Ghost Bride themed request: Instead of Idia being at risk of being whisked away to Unholy matrimony, it is instead the reader, A.KA the boys of your choices crush, being whisked away to a ghostly honeymoon. Would at least like to see Kalim for this but any boy that you think would mount a daring and romantic rescue. Please and thank you

COMMENTS: Well, I decided to write for 4 characters. One of them being Kalim. For the others I didn't want to choose one from the Overblot Boys because I'm thinking of doing a similar post with them in the future. And when I saw the list of students I thought that the most fun to write would be some of the most impulsive and those most likely to be unable/unwilling to lie. So I chose Deuce, Jack and Floyd.

I will admit it was fun to write. 🙂

I hope you all enjoy 💐

CHARACTERS: Deuce Spade; Jack Howl; Floyd Leech & Kalim Al-Asim

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Love Confessions

WARNING: Spoilers from The Phantom Bride event

WORD COUNT: An average of 450 words per character.

CONTEXT: Someone was kidnapped to marry some ghost princess and might end up turning into a ghost too. And they just found out that someone was you.

A mix of panic and fury is what Deuce felt when he found out what had happened or could happen to you.

There was a Housewardens meeting about what happened, so Deuce wasn't present. And so he went to his Housewarden to ask Riddle that whatever the plan was, please get him involved.

They end up forming a small group to rescue you. Deuce being part of it. On the way to you the others end up staying behind to stop the ghost guards from getting in the way of Deuce. And he ends up being the only one to appear in the ceremony room.

Deuce screams at everyone to stop the wedding. But with his feelings on the surface, instead of trying to reason and persuade the ghosts, he threatens them. It was as if he was willing to fight the world and beyond for you.

Unfortunately, the guards are in the majority and manage to trap him and cause him to drop his magic pen.

He's furious, but he can't break free. The wedding goes on and the only thing that occurs to him, in the midst of despair, is to tell the truth.

“(Y/N)! You don't want to marry her do you?” You answer him that of course not, but the princess says anything about you don't know what you're saying. “You're the one who doesn't know what you're saying! What if they already love someone else? What if someone else already loves them?” The princess asks what he's talking about and his answer is for you and not for the princess. “I LOVE YOU, (Y/N)!” and then he talks to the princess again, with tears in his eyes “Please, don't take them away...”

The princess petrifies. She might be delusional, but even she can't ignore a declaration like that. She even mentions that she feels a little jealous of you. That one of the things she dreams about the most is that someone loves her so much that they make a declaration like that to her too.

And that's what drives the ghost guard who loves her to declare himself to her. And all that ending with her finding out she loved him happens.

After everything and they freed you, Deuce couldn't care less about the princess and the ghosts. He hugs you desperately, as if he's afraid they'll take you again.

He is embarrassed by the loving declaration he made to you. But he can't go back now.

Jack is more worried and scared than angry. He's more concerned with you being hurt and your well-being than with getting revenge on the ghosts. But he won't back down from a fight.

There was a Housewardens meeting about what happened, so Jack wasn't present. And so he went to his Housewarden to ask Leona that whatever the plan was, please get him involved.

Leona'd probably tell Jack that he could even do all the work if he wanted to. And he decides to do just that. He is a man... young man of action.

He will turn into a wolf and burst into the building. He won't stop until he gets to you and he'll get rid of anyone who gets in his way. And he will break down the doors still in his wolf form.

Everyone's like "A WOLF?!" And you're like "Jack?"

In his wolf form and with magic he can defeat any ghost that tries to stop him. And that's why that ghost guard turns into a giant to finally stop Jack.

Without being able to move anymore, the only thing left for him to do is try to talk to the princess and the guards. And for that he transforms himself back into a beastman. Surprising all ghosts. And piquing the curiosity of Princess Eliza. She asks him why he was there.

“To stop this wedding!” She asks, overjoyed and flattered if he's there for her. But he can't take that opportunity to lie, because he doesn't like to lie. “No! It's not for you that I'm here. It's for the person you kidnapped.” she starts to say that she didn't kidnap anyone. “Of course you did! Do you think (Y/N) wants to be here?!” An argument between the two of you and the ghosts starts, but that doesn't matter at the end. “JUST LET THEM GO!” he barks completely out of patience “They deserve better than you!” Everybody gasps at his boldness.

The ghost that held him starts defending the princess. Ending up revealing his feelings for her. And all that ending with her finding out she loved him happens.

The ghosts set you and Jack free. He runs to you to hug you, relieved that you're okay and that it's all over. You ask him about what he said. About you deserving better. And he decides to just tell you the truth.

He reveals that the whole thing about stopping the marriage was because he liked you. That a person like you deserves the best that anyone can offer. And he promises you that he will do his best to be the person you deserve.

Floyd hears that someone was kidnapped by that princess to marry her and such, but he couldn't care less. At least not until he hears your name.

At that moment he stops. Approach the students who were talking about that and ask what you have to do with that story.

The students, frightened, tell him what happened. But they quickly regret being the bearers of bad news because Floyd's expression quickly goes from just a curious face to that serious and terrifying expression of his. And he ends the conversation by calmly asking where you were.

And the ghosts worst nightmare enters the building. He was just annoyed at first that you'd been kidnapped. But then he starts having fun fighting the ghosts. To the point of becoming practically sadistic. Which terrified the ghosts even more.

The last time Princess Elisa was in such danger was when she was killed. So all the ghosts prepare in the ceremonial hall to protect her. You see them all panicking without knowing why. Not even the princess knows why.

He enters the room breaking down the door with a kick and a creepy smile on his face. “Peekaboo~” And the guards attack him. Now you see why they were so scared. Floyd was having fun at first, but then complained that facing the same kind of ghost was getting boring.

Then one of the ghost guards became a giant to face him. And Floyd smiled again. Unfortunately for him, the ghost managed to get him to drop the magic pen and trap him. The Princess asks what a monster like him was doing there.

“I study here, smartass.” everyone gasped offended. She says he can go back to study there after the wedding. “Yeah, but nah. That won't do.” she asks why not “Because I won't let you marry my Koebi-chan.” She gets confused by that nickname, but when she realizes he was talking about you, she starts defending herself. “Whatevs. HEY KOEBI-CHAN! Do you want to marry this spoiled brat?” You try to contain your laughter and answer no. “See? Now stop this crap before my patience runs out for good.” The giant ghost who is grabbing him orders him to stop talking to the princess like that. “Why? She's gettin' on my nerves. Don't tell me you have a crush on her, HA HA HA”

The ghost starts by trying to deny it, until he finally decides to confess to her once and for all. And all that ending with her finding out she loved him happens.

After the ghosts free the two of you, they beg you to take Floyd with you. You ask him why he did that. “You didn't hear me? I said I wasn't going to let her marry you.” you ask him why “Because I don't want you to marry someone you don't want to. Well, the truth is, I don't want you to marry anyone but me, but I let you choose.”

PANIC!!! OH GREAT SEVEN WHAT DOES HE DO?!

If Jamil is in the room, he himself is trying not to panic while trying to calm Kalim's panic. If only the Housewardens were in the room, one of the others will have to calm him down.

Kalim will do anything to save you, pay whatever it takes! Just someone tell him what to do.

Unfortunately, without an answer on what to do, he returns to Scarabia in a very worried state. Unknown to Jamil, Kalim has gone to the treasure room to be alone. But carpet went to keep him company.

He begins by thanking carpet for the company, while it tries to tell him that it can help save you. But as slow as Kalim can be, he only realizes later and even thinks the idea was his own.

He dashes out of Scarabia with carpet towards the hall where the wedding is taking place. And to get there, he ends up breaking a window since it's faster than going through the door.

He grabs you still on top of the flying carpet, to try to simply get you out of there, but the ghost guards manage to hit the carpet and make you fall. You fell with Kalim embracing you so you wouldn't be hurt.

And it's when the guards force the two of you apart that he starts to speak. He screams at them to stop the marriage because it's wrong. That one person cannot be forced to marry another.

But Princess Eliza says she needs to marry someone “princely”. Somehow, for some reason, she seas that in you.

“But why? Is that a rule? Because it shouldn't be! You should marry the one you love and not someone others think you should marry. Whether that person is a princess or a thief. Be someone you've known for years...” he points to the ghost guards “...or...” he looks at you “someone who just showed up in your life out of the blue and without warning. And who in just a few weeks became the most important person in your life.” he smiles at you, as if he forgets everything else around.

Princess Eliza stopped listening after that about the guards. And all that ending with her finding out she loved one of her guards happens.

In the end, Kalim gets emotional with the princess's marriage to the guard. Forgiving and forgetting the whole thing about your kidnapping. Chances are he's the type of person to cry at a wedding.

And he takes that opportunity to declare himself to you. Because that opened his eyes and he can't keep hiding his feelings anymore.

He couldn't stand the idea of you marrying someone else, because he started dreaming of marrying you.

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for 🦄 behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Like–they didn’t read to you or let you watch movies and stuff, you mean?” Billy asks with a frown. “Just put the whole things in your head at once?” 

That sounds disorienting, and also kinda mean and lazy on Cadmus’s part. But maybe it wasn’t as bad as it– 

Lynn looks down at Tawky; flips his ear back and forth again and rubs the pad of his thumb across the inside of it. 

Billy . . . frowns, again. 

“No,” Lynn says to Tawky’s ear, as opposed to actually either of them. “I mean they didn’t tell me stories at all.” 

. . . wow, yeah. Billy is definitely committing fifty-two floors’ worth of arson. 

“Oh, okay,” he says, making a few mental notes for himself about, again, arson. Like, just the whole process and everything. “Well, they suck, then. We’ll just have to get you some different types to try, I guess. Like with the food and all, you know? It’s a library, anyway, it’s not like it costs money to borrow stuff or anything.” 

“It’s just stories,” Lynn says to Tawky’s ear, not lifting his eyes at all. “They’re not–important. To . . . I don’t need things like that.” 

“Why do you think that?” Billy asks with a frown, though his inner arsonist is already pretty sure it’s Cadmus's fault. Pretty much positive, in fact. 

Pretty definitely positive. 

Lynn shrugs. Rubs the inside of Tawky’s ear. It’s really soft, Billy knows; Tawky’s fur always feels nice to touch. He wonders, actually, how much stuff Lynn even has touched so far. 

He wonders, again, if anybody’s ever hugged him before. 

He really hates the thought that maybe no one has. He really hates . . . 

He just really hates that that’s even a thing that might be a thing at all. 

“Weapons don't need to know stories,” Lynn says. “They just need to do as they're told.” 

. . . in retrospect, arson might be half-assing what Billy should do to Cadmus. 

“This isn't so you can be a weapon,” he reminds Lynn carefully, resisting the urge to clench his fists in his lap. “Remember?” 

“‘This’,” Lynn echoes. He still doesn't look up. 

“I'm taking care of you,” Billy says. 

“Maintaining me,” Lynn says very, very quietly. “Containing me.” 

“I really hate that somebody made you think that's what that means,” Billy says tightly. Lynn ducks his head lower and looks towards the wall. 

He doesn't say anything back. Billy bites his tongue, trying to figure out what he should–do, or say, or . . . 

The truth, obviously, but how to say it's a lot harder. 

“This isn't, like–a containment thing. That's not why I'm taking care of you,” he tries, because it's the best place to start he can think of. The wisdom of Solomon covers a lot of knowledge, but not necessarily always how to apply that knowledge. “Like, we wanna know where you are so we know you're safe, or at least know you've got your phone just in case, and the curfew thing is–like, normal kids get curfews. So people know where they are, and that they're not in trouble or anything. And like–so people know when to get help for them, if they might be in trouble.” 

Lynn doesn't say anything, still. Billy's not sure if that means he's just thinking, or if it means he hasn't said the right thing yet. 

He really hopes it's the thinking thing, but . . . 

“Honestly the other idea was putting you up in Mount Justice,” he admits. “But it doesn't have any windows or anything, and I don't even know if anyone else was gonna be there most of the time, and–”

“Windows?” Lynn . . . frowns, his eyes flicking back to him. 

“Um, yeah,” Billy says. Lynn stares blankly at him for a moment, then slants his eyes towards the apartment windows and–hesitates, a little. 

“. . . you mean there's no sun,” he realizes slowly.

[mikaela-the-slut-expert]

Maple Robes and Lace Veils

Hua Cheng x M!Reader x Xie Lian

this is the second part of my first story, "The First Glance". Again it's technically about my OC since no one's asking for anything. I just have it written to where it can be for a reader. 😋

Switching pov's

Also guys I am not Chinese but I try to find words and translations that are important to my OC's story.

Dúshé means poison laced tongue in simplified Chinese (I think)

Mûguô means bitch, or whore in simplified Chinese (I think)

Míngqín means song bird it's Y/n's nickname

Previous part: First Glance

_____________________________________________

Once the morning has officially started, San Lang goes back to his wood pile. You stand by Xie Lian while San Lang somehow manages to build a whole door for the shrine. Xie Lian seems to love it, it's obvious with how he's become fascinated by opening and closing it repeatedly.

"I thought a door would be easier to stick talismans on than a curtain" San Lang explains. You smile and give a small clap. "It's a very well made door, San Lang, good job" you giggle at Xie Lian's excitement.

At the mention of talismans Xie Lian seems to remember something. He claps his hands together, "Oh Míngqín I forgot to tell you what happened at Mount Yunjin! I'm so sorry, so much happened yesterday"

You wave a hand, "it's nothing to worry about. How important could it be? I was there for most of it." You smile but Xie Lian's face is very serious so really nothing's funny at all.

"Well actually," Xie Lian laughs nervously, scratching his temple. "I talked with the heavenly officials and I found out that I met a calamity yesterday." Your face morphs into shock but Xie Lian quickly settles you down. "Not him." The words are met with silence. Of course it wasn't the white calamity. What were you thinking? ,"They called him Crimson Rain Sought Flower, his name is Hua Cheng" Xie Lian smiles. At this ghost's mention San Lang starts to pay attention to the conversation. "He walked me through the forest yesterday and I mistook him to be the ghost groom but he isn't. He isn't hard to be mistaken after seeing his silver butterflies ."

You're in shock. Because you got caught up in a swarm of silver butterflies yesterday. "I... Just don't understand. Why would a calamity be hanging around Mount Yunjin? Crimson Rain Sought Flower is known to stay in his den." You sigh.

You easily worry about Xie Lian and panic once more. "He didn't hurt you did he?" You move closer to Xie Lian and hold his face, looking for marks or bruises. "Why didn't you call for me, I would've been there right away." You frown and move back once you're satisfied with your search.

"There was no need to call, he didn't hurt me... He led me through the forest and safely delivered me to the temple." Xie Lian smiles but you sigh.

Xie Lian didn't get hurt, but a well known calamity shows up and helps Xie Lian? Coincidence. The same calamity helping you? Intention.

"...I suppose it's okay. As long as you didn't get hurt A-Lian. Just be careful." You look to the ground, but Xie Lian pats your head. "I am careful, ah you really should've seen the butterflies though Míngqín They were very beautiful"

You arch a brow then shake your head. "I actually did see them but, Wèizhī might eat them" Wèizhī is your two birds - Oriental Magpie- , they're not here right now though. They're probably bathing in water somewhere. Hm a bath doesn't sound so bad actually-, "Y/n?" You're brought back into focus when San Lang gains your attention. "Sorry I tend to lose my train of thought" you hum.

"What about you y/n?" You cock your head to the side at San Lang's question. "What have you heard about Crimson Rain" San Lang smiles mischievously.

"Why would I know anything about anybody?" You shrug. Of course you've heard and seen plenty about Hua Cheng, you're a ghost. You're... Residence happens to be near Ghost City.

Xie Lian nods in agreement though, he could use the info. You sigh, "Who knows? He stays in his den, and although close I've never seen him in my city." You shrug again.

All of you eventually go back inside. You end up staring at the painting again. You would have eventually painted something for Xie Lian but you've been busy working on the actual build of the shrine. You've always been good at the arts. Drawing, dancing, and singing. That is why you're the God of Song after all.

"San Lang's skills are very beautiful" You say, looking over at him. "Who taught you?"

San Lang shakes his head. "I had a good teacher a while back, I paint mostly for fun now." You nod at his explanation and smile back at the painting. You really do like it. It shows Xie Lian in what once used to be all his glory.

"Do you really like it so much, Míngqín?" Xie Lian stares at you and you've forgotten you don't have a veil on. They can see your expressions and you aren't just invisible anymore. You blush, and instinctively cover your mouth with your sleeve.

"O-oh, well yes I like it. It's very well done and it captures the prince of XianLe very beautifully." You stutter and look away.

The moment is interrupted when the three of you hear a scream and a man running towards the shrine. "Save Me! Save me please!" The panicked man grabs Xie Lian's wrist very harshly. It's in your nature, you can't help it. You are quick to push the man away, and to protect Xie Lian. He pats your arm however, in a 'It's okay' motion. Xie Lian sits the man down and asks for an explanation from him.

You and San Lang glare at him. Both of you don't trust him and both of you share a glance when the man explains he's from Banyue pass. Which has since turned into a dry land of sands. The man was running away from what killed his other group members.

"You ran all the way from Banyue pass to here?" San Lang asks with crossed arms. Your form is the same. The man seems to sweat at this, but Xie Lian in all his kindness offers the man a drink. Xie Lian is kind but he's probably just testing if the man is a mortal or not.

"No need to be polite you can drink" The man -for all his supposed running- hesitates to take the water Xie Lian so generously offered. When he does drink it, the water going into his body sounds hollow. You and Xie Lian both know it. "You can stop drinking now." Xie Lian says and takes the water from the man's hands. His disguise is ruined and everyone knows now. The man rises up quickly though and pulls a sword from his sleeve, moving to attack Xie Lian.

Before you or San Lang can act, Xie Lian is quick enough to flick the sword away. Sometimes you forget Xie Lian is just hiding his strength. The man tries to run and Xie Lian moves to use Rou'ye but the man drops and a sad looking skin bag(?) is left behind... A chopstick is what caused the damage. You and Xie Lian both whip your heads around to San Lang. Xie Lian goes to investigate the corpse but you still stare at San Lang.

"A chopstick?" You ask with an arched brow. "A chopstick" San Lang only smiles and you sigh. You both go to Xie Lian. When you get closer you can see that Xie Lian is using the array, so you do too. The only thing you can really hear is people being joyful about merits, and ignoring Xie Lian. Officials disgust you.

"Are the lot of you deaf? Did you not hear his highness? He asked a question." Your voice rings through the array and the officials who were once joyful before quiet down. Instead of answering, the cowards leave the array.

You're not a popular force in the heavens. Especially since your personality has always been cold and distant. You were actually loved once before, for your unnatural beauty and voice people revered you. That was until they found out you were a ghost and before they trashed Xie Lian's name. You would cause trouble for the other gods and challenge them often, causing fear to most officials. You always defended Xie Lian's name and when given the chance for promotion, you refused and chose to stay with Xie Lian instead.

This loyalty of yours to a scrap god however causes other officials to look down on you, they also just don't like your attitude. You have other unofficial titles that the heavenly officials made and of course those names spread. There's one title that used to be used quite often but you actually haven't heard any officials call you that in a long time. That title is "mûguô". Someone caught word of your past and decided to spread the name to upset you, but it faded out very quickly. That official -who you never even knew the name of- disappeared shortly after, with their temples burnt and no trace of them.

You're stuck in your thoughts until you hear Ling Wen answer Xie Lian's question about Banyue Pass. You leave the array, Xie Lian will tell you what's going on. When you look over at San Lang he's giving you a cheeky smile. "What?" You tilt your head but he just shakes his head.

You run your hands over your new braid while Xie Lian talks to Ling Wen. You mess with the red ribbon San Lang tied your hair with. It's definitely a pop out color compared to all the white you wear.

"San Lang, I'm afraid me and y/n will have to go far away soon" Xie Lian pipes up and stands from the... Thing on the ground. San Lang furrows a brow at the news and then gives a smug grin. "Why doesn't gege and y/n take me with them? I know a lot about Banyue Pass."

Xie Lian looks confused but he nods anyways. You wouldn't mind if San Lang came along either. "Oh? What do you know about Banyue Pass San Lang, you're far too young to know those things" you tease with a smile, while the three of you head inside the shrine.

San Lang chuckles and goes to speak before a knock on the door makes you all silent. You all look at each other in a moment of silence before Xie Lian opens the door.

When Xie Lian opens the door it reveals Mu Qing and Feng Xin who are in disguise... They are in a shocked silence not having seen you in a long time and to see your face after so long. You all sit in silence.

After you get over your shock you let out a panicked yelp and cover your face. They saw your face! Your cursed, cursed face! You shove your face into your hands. You didn't want Mu Qing to see it. He'd use it against you and you already hate him enough already. Feng Xin saw your face! He'll surely be disgusted with you now.

You start to groan into your sleeves, trying to move away from their eyes. You try to find your veil through the slits of your fingers. You can hear your name tumble from Feng Xin's lips but the door slams and someone whisks you away into their arms. They forcibly move your hands away from your face and now you can see that your face to face with red robes .

San Lang holds your wrists, and that stops you from hiding your face. "San Lang, my veil? Where's my veil?" You don't have a clue where he put it. Another pair of hands come into view and puts your veil over your eyes. You know it's Xie Lian.

Now that you can actually tell what your surroundings are you find that you're in San Lang's arms. You blush and step back. You hadn't meant to grip onto him so tightly.

__________________________________________________

Xie Lian sighs in relief when they find y/n's veil. Xie Lian is actually sad to see his face hidden again. He hasn't seen your face in so long and he missed it. Xie Lian supposes he doesn't mind though. If anyone deserves to see your beauty it's him and he actually doesn't want Feng Xin or Mu Qing to look. Xie Lian shakes his head to remove such thoughts. As if he could describe your face like it was a secret to keep between the three of you.

"I'm going to open the door now y/n" he pats your hand. He waits for your nod before opening the door again. He smiles nervously at the two officials outside. Of course Xie Lian knows who they really are but for now he'll pretend. "Ah why are you two here?"

Mu Qing and Feng Xin have crossed arms "Are you going to Banyue Pass? We're going with you" they say at the same time and then glare at each other. Xie Lian laughs but opens the door to let them inside. He looks at y/n keeping an eye on him. Xie Lian knows his temper.

When Feng Xin and Mu Qing see San Lang they're alarmed. Holding up their lighting, and fire. "Who's he?" Mu Qing nods his head at San Lang. Xie Lian sighs, "This is San Lang"

Feng Xin's eye twitches, "where did he come from? Where's his family? Do you usually invite people you don't know into your home?"

Xie Lian laughs nervously but he's glad that the attention isn't on y/n anymore.

Not until Mu Qing attempts to throw lightning at San Lang. It would have most definitely hit the wall and caused a big hole but y/n dispersed it. Sending a shot of ice towards Mu Qing. His face hides behind his veil but Xie Lian knows you're angry. "No fighting in the shrine. If you damage the shrine I promise to return the damage double to your god's palace" he spits with venom, threatening Mu Qing's palace.

It's evident y/n doesn't try to hide who he is. Sure he's in his avatar and he looks simple. However he doesn't do a good job at keeping his abilities at bay.

Xie Lian doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. The tension in the room is very high. Mu Qing looks ready to argue back but San Lang steps in front of y/n and stands by Xie Lian's side. "Are these two servants, gege?" He hums with a smug smirk.

"uhm something like that but not exactly-" Xie Lian gets interrupted when San Lang throws a broom into Mu Qing's hands. "Start helping then" San Lang smiles. His face resembles a mischievous fox. Y/n cackles.

Xie Lian waves his hands trying to calm a cursing Feng Xin and Mu Qing down. "Please for my sake leave him alone" he laughs nervously. He doesn't need his shrine to get destroyed not that y/n would let that happen.

Talking about y/n, ah. He's glaring at Mu Qing under the veil. He'll have to make sure they don't break out into a fight either. San Lang leans on y/n's shoulder and the stiffness seems to leave y/n's body. Xie Lian isn't too worried about anyone fighting. He thinks San Lang will keep a careful eye on y/n.

Xie Lian rubs his temple. "Maybe Feng Xin should make a pathway so that we can get to Banyue Pass quickly?"

Feng Xin does just that. Leaving Mu Qing standing alone in front of the three of them. "Is he coming with us?" Mu Qing points to San Lang with furrowed brows. Xie Lian sighs and goes to answer but y/n answers for him

"Of course, since when was it a servant's job to worry about his highness's friends?" Xie Lian drops his head when he realizes that Y/n has joined San Lang in his smart remarks.

Not only does he have to worry about one silver tongue but two. "Yes San Lang is coming with us. He knows a lot about Crescent Moon Pass and that's sure to help me" Xie Lian explains with a nervous smile.

Mu Qing is interrupted when Feng Xin cuts him off, "The pathway is finished". Mu Qing, ever the prideful looks at the pathway and shrugs, "I've seen better". Which leads to Feng Xin and Mu Qing bantering again.

Y/n interrupts them by activating the pathway. "Stop bickering like an old married couple let's go" San Lang snickers softly, "I never thought of that, they do bicker like an old married couple don't they" The two officials glare at San Lang and y/n. They smile back. Xie Lian only knows y/n is smiling because of his crow feet.

They all go through the portal. Xie Lian lets out a laugh, knowing that he's going to have to deal with all of the four's antics on their journey. Xie Lian is happy with his circus though.

__________________________________________________

Tell me if it's good guys I don't have an editor 😭 so sometimes I'm not aware if my story is actually well written. Yeah, anyways if you wanna request something or see more lemme know 🥰 also y'all I'm pulling the timeline out of my ass. I have no clue if I'm doing it right or not 🙏😭

Should I continue the series? Yes or no?

Oh also if y'all actually wanna see my OC lemme know! I didn't draw it don't hate on me 🫵😐

If anyone reads this plz plz plz plz PLEASE tell me if my submission box is working! I know I'm not getting anything but I want to know if it works!

[moonstruckme]

Hey love! How are you? I hope everything is well. Could I request a fluffy fic where the reader is sick and the marauders dote all over her? I have been sick the past couple of days with high fever and I am in desperate need to be taken care of lol. It doesnt matter if it is a poly!marauders or one of the boys. You can choose whichever you are in the mood for. Thanks in advance <3

Hi sweetheart, I'm good, thanks! I'm sorry to hear you're unwell :( Soooooo relatable, basically all I do when I'm sick is fantasize about someone taking care of me. I've been dying to write a roomate!James fic so I took this in that direction, hope that's okay. Thank you for requesting and I hope you feel better soon lovely!

roommate!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

James listens as the door to your room opens and closes again, his unease mounting. 

You’re typically quiet, but lately you’ve been quieter than usual. Normally, James can count on at least seeing you in passing, or hearing your comings and goings signaled by the ridiculously harsh creaking of the front door. You sometimes play soft music while you cook, or have a friend over to chat in your room, or listen to a podcast while you get ready in the morning. 

For the last few days, there’s been none of that. If it weren’t for the occasional sound of your bedroom door and your key still on its hook in the entryway, James might think you’d moved out. 

He’s been walking past your door more often today, curious and a bit concerned at what’s keeping you confined in there. Though he knows he should be more ashamed of his eavesdropping, who else is responsible for making sure you’re okay if not your roommate? Anyway, if one day he finds you dead in your bedroom, “I was trying to mind my own business” isn’t going to make a very good excuse. 

When he goes by on his fourth unnecessary trip to the kitchen that afternoon, James is stopped by the startling noise of rapid-fire sneezes from behind your closed door. He’s knocking before he can second-guess himself. “Hey, you alright in there?”

There’s a great snuffling sound, and then, “Yeah, thanks,” your voice muffled. 

James hesitates. He’s not sure what your definition of “alright” might be, but he doesn’t feel right going about his day when you’ve locked yourself away and are acting so strange. “Can I come in?”

“No.” 

Well, that’s about as much confirmation that you’re not alright as he needs. “Are you decent?”

“I—yeah, but James—” 

He cracks the door, sticking his head in just as you dive beneath the covers of your bed. The floor is covered in tissues and wrappers of some sort, dirty dishes stacked on your desk. The room actually smells like sickness, likely a result of your being in here without opening a door or window for days. 

“James, please go.” Your voice is muffled by the covers, but now James can hear how congested it sounds. “I don’t want to get you sick.” 

“We’re roommates, love,” he says, taking a few tentative steps toward you. “Whatever you have, I’m gonna get it eventually.” 

You sneeze, your form tensing under the covers. “Not if I stay in here and you stay out there,” you insist nasally. 

James crouches by your bed, careful to avoid the tissues and what he now sees are cough drop wrappers. He tugs at your sheets until you release them, pulling them down to reveal your very flushed, very displeased face. James can’t help it; his eyebrows come together and his bottom lip juts out in pity, and your glare intensifies. 

Of course, it’s hard to appear very intimidating when your nose is twitching as you fight off another sneeze. After a moment you give in, pressing a tissue under your nose as your shoulders hitch. James winces in sympathy. 

“How long have you been like this?” he asks, taking advantage of your distraction to touch the back of his hand to your forehead. He’s not surprised to find it warm, but the intensity of the heat that meets his hand has him inhaling sharply. He presses his palm to your cheek to be sure, but it’s the same. “Merlin, you’re burning up.” 

“S’not that bad,” you say, though your next sniffle undermines the claim. 

James brushes a sweaty strand of hair from your forehead, worrying his lip. “Seems pretty bad, love. I think we ought to get you to a doctor. You shouldn’t be this warm.” 

You’re shaking your head before he’s finished speaking. “James, no. I want to stay here, at home.” You pull your blankets closer about your shoulders protectively. “I don’t want to sit in some freezing waiting room for hours just so they can tell me I have a cold.” 

James looks at you for a moment. Your clammy forehead, your poor pinkened nose. A tiny shiver takes you, making you burrow under the blankets until just your pleading eyes are peeking out at him, and that’s what softens him to your cause. “Alright,” he sighs, “but then you need to let me take care of you.”

“But—”

“I don’t care about getting sick,” he cuts you off, leveling you with his sternest look. It’s not very well-practiced, but it does the trick, and you settle down. “You let me help, or I’ll take you to someone who will.” 

You look resentful at being given an ultimatum, but nod. 

“Great.” James grins, his usual affability returned. “Now when was the last time you ate?”

From that moment on, you’re on strict bed rest. James cancels his plans with Remus and Sirius for that night, both of them sending wishes that you start to feel better soon, and a call to his mum grants him access to her recipe for “get well soup.” You don’t have an appetite, but James coaxes you into eating a few spoonfuls, and the warm sensation in your throat proves too soothing to let a silly thing like appetite prevent you from finishing the bowl. James cleans your room as you eat, ignoring your protests and embarrassed groaning as he puts your tissues and wrappers into a bin, placing it beside your bed for easier access when you need it. Then, he gives you a steaming bowl of water, making you sit with a towel over your head in your own personal sauna. You complain about feeling disgusting as your sinuses empty themselves out, but admit to breathing a bit easier once it’s done. Soon you’re feeling well enough to sit up, propping yourself up on a few pillows with a full stomach and slightly clearer nasal passages while James takes your temperature with the thermometer he’d run to get from the corner store. 

“Can’t believe we didn’t have one of these,” he mutters as he holds it in your ear. “One of us was bound to get ill eventually, it’s a miracle it’s taken this long.” You hum, your eyes trained on the inside of James’ forearm. It hasn’t escaped his notice that you’ve been looking at him more today than you ever have before; he supposes he owes that to the glaze of fever he can still detect in your eyes. James would never embarrass you by mentioning it, but the warmth of your gaze is nice, and he’s glad you’re not sharp enough at the moment to notice he’s as flushed as you. The thermometer beeps, and he pulls away, the tension in his brow relaxing a bit as he reads the number. “Well, it’s not nothing, but it seems lower than earlier.” He feels at your forehead again, nodding to himself. “Yeah, definitely lower.” James leaves his hand on your face a tenth of a second too long, and your eyes raise to his.

“That’s good,” you say, giving him a small smile. He returns it heartily. “I feel better, thanks.” 

“Yeah?” he asks, his smile falling away when you give a small sneeze and then wince. “You sure, love? Is your head still hurting you?”

“It’s not as bad,” you sniffle, grabbing a tissue to wipe your nose. “I really think all this is helping, James, thank you. Sorry you have to be around me when I’m so gross.” 

“You’re not gross, you’re lovely,” he says dismissively, moving the box of tissues closer to you when you reach for it again. “You’re incapable of being anything but lovely.” 

You actually snort, the sound loud and wet. “Yeah, okay. Whatever you say.” 

“I do say,” James insists. “And I’m the only one here not delirious with fever, so I think that makes mine the final opinion.” 

Your cheeks get impossibly pinker, almost matching the hue of your nose, but your smile rivals James’ own. “Well, anyway, thanks for taking care of me. I really appreciate it.” 

James doesn’t bother to pretend he’s feeling for a fever this time, placing a hand on your cheek and rubbing at the skin under your eye affectionately. He thinks his heart actually turns to mush when you lean into the touch. “No thanks necessary, sweetheart. Happy to do it any time.”

[silv3rswirls]

Hound

Summary: What did a suffering lamb even accomplish? Who did it save, when would it end? 

Warnings: serial killer/yandere jk, kidnapping, stalking, references to death, suggestive scenes, delusions, religious themes/trauma, minor description of sick/rotting bodies/animals, murder, reader goes on a weird little adventure with killer jk?? She dies at the end

Note: idk I kind of lost the original plot of this one and this is what it turned out to be. Please mind the warnings and as always, hope ya’ll like it. ALSO, I didn't have it in me to edit this, so mind that. I might come back to this

There’s something in the corner; watching. It’s been there so long, you couldn’t remember when it invited itself in. It’s starving and sickly, black fur clinging to bones and eyes droopy and white. You stopped feeding it a long time ago, but still, it lingers. In every facet of your life, it lingers. You’ve lived like this for so many years, have you always lived like this?

What time was it?

Your eyes shifted from their fixed position on the wall to the clock, passing over the thin, gold cross mounted just beside it. Your eyes strained to read it against your bedroom's dark wood panels and dim, ugly yellow light. Whatever time it was, you knew it was time to get out of bed and start dinner before your husband got home from work. You make your way to the kitchen, the house dims now that the sun has set. You avoid flicking many lights on, it’ll save money your husband insisted. You hated fumbling around a dark house but had given up arguing with him a long time ago.

You peek through the sheer curtains, the sink running and steaming water burning your hands as you finish that morning's dishes. It was dark, and windy as the tree in your front yard shook and branches brushed against the roof. It was the cusp of winter, very cold but snow hadn’t started to fall yet. The neighborhood was quiet, street lamps harsh against the dark backdrop of houses. You stare hard outside, it's there. Standing there, watching you. That sick dog, with hackles raised and tongue hanging from its mouth. 

The curtains fall back into place as you turn the water off and dry your hands. You pass the phone, that’s been ringing for the past five minutes. You don’t answer because it's just your parents again, all they wanted was to guilt you into going to church with them on Sunday morning. They went every day, once upon a time you had gone as well, but now you could only stand to give them Sundays. Last week you had pretended to be sick to get out of it, your husband went along and you were sure he spent most of the day badmouthing and complaining about you not coming.

The last time you found yourself in a church you were standing at an altar listening to a man feed the room empty vows. You stood stiff, draped in satin, with eyes downcast. This is what everyone wanted; this is what you wanted. What a waste, as he fumbled the paper with his crudely written vows. What a waste of a man who couldn’t memorize a few short promises. What a waste of a man who couldn’t stand there and pretend to be in love with you, to dare to call himself righteous, the perfect match to keep their daughter in line with a faith you had stopped believing years ago. 

You didn’t want to get married. You had stopped liking the fantasy of having a husband years ago, and around the same time, you began to feel a sour taste over your parents' religion. What happened to you? What happened to our beautiful girl? They would ask, more so plead with you for answers. Truthfully, you had stopped believing in god. It was restricting; days to weeks to months to years. It was always the same. The same scripture, the same ravings of the pastor that drove such fear of doing anything wrong into you, leaving holes in your body that oozed with guilt and shame; you didn’t know why.

You had begged god to save you, even after all the terrible things he must’ve seen you do. Still, on the morning of your wedding and every day after that, you begged. Knelt until your knees were raw and aching, your hands clasped so tight until your nails pricked your aching skin and drew blood. You begged, for something, anything, you weren’t even sure what anymore. But nothing ever changed. When would god find time for you again? You live, you do as you’re told. You do everything you’re supposed to, and yet nothing. You live how you’re told. You grow, you work, you’re a wife. You follow and you ignore the hound scratching at your walls. You’ll die soon, you can feel it. When will he come back to you?

That night you refused to go inside, letting your feet go numb buried in snow in the backyard. Looking into the treeline, you’d rather be fed by the creatures lurking there than by some angry boy playing dog inside. You wanted to hurt him, for him to feel how you had the past year. He didn’t think you could, but you wanted to show him you would. 

But when you looked down at your trembling hands, stiff and half frozen from the cold, you knew there was no way you could show him. How you felt and how you acted were two different things; forever separate as much as you wanted them to be the same. You could talk a big game, think about how so badly you wanted to hurt him, and that was all. It had to keep being enough.

Something in you wanted more, so much more. You could rest because of it. You had stopped fighting your parents now, you were hoping things could change. Maybe you’d find peace again, though you weren’t sure how. You grew weary, tired of hating god and resenting your parents. You wanted so badly to be separate from it all. To no longer have a feeling of guilt hounding you. To no longer hate the church and everyone in it, the teachings and echoes of preaching lingering in your mind. The years you lost there; lost to fear and manipulation. How you hadn’t been able to enjoy a single thing in your adolescence. How after your first kiss you had gone home and sobbed until throwing up. As you were on your knees cleaning it up, trying to hush your cries to not wake your parents, you closed your eyes and pleaded between gasps and hiccups for god not to hate you. How you trembled and sat there until your skin was rubbed raw against the carpet, 

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face and looking around the dark living room from the kitchen. You felt like you could see it; that creature lying on the sofa staring at you. Mouth parted, teeth pointed, its soul-bearing into your own. You turned away with the familiar feeling of guilt washing over your body. Your gaze rested on the floor, but the faint outline of shoes made your brow furrow; your husband wasn’t due home for another hour. Very slowly you pick your gaze up to see the man standing in the hall. Faint light from the open backdoor pooled in behind him. You stared at the young man longer than probably should have. Maybe you should've screamed sooner and ran before he got that close to you but you had frozen in place.

Break-ins didn’t happen around your neighborhood, let alone kidnappings.

What horrible luck that you’d be the first? 

What had you done? What had you done to deserve this?

He carried you out of your house, but still, you couldn’t bring it in you to scream for help. You wondered deep down if anyone would help you. He puts you in the back of his car and drives, the windows down and bitter cold pouring in. You’re lying in the backseat, wrists bound tight. He’d been eerily silent through this whole ordeal.

“How come you haven’t begged me not to kill you yet?” He asked, looking back at you. His voice came jumbling from his mouth fast, a bit irritated. Like he had been frustrated with your lack of struggle.

“Were you going to kill me?” Your skin crawls with goosebumps from the cold. 

He pauses and stares at you, “Do you want me to kill you?” He turns back to watch the road, neither of you answering his question. A long stretch of silence follows, he doesn’t look at you again, not even a glance from the mirror. “I’ve been watching you for a long time. I’m going to give you what you want, and then I’m going to kill you.”

You’re throat dries and your face pales. “You don’t know what I want.” Watching you? You felt an uneasiness come over you as you thought back to what you had done the past few weeks. Nothing to be honest. You had barely left the house. You imagined him peeking through windows, hiding in the yard, and watching you collect groceries and throw the trash away. Had he been in your house before? You look at him, he didn’t seem familiar at all. You’d never seen him around before. 

He dragged you from the car, you didn’t struggle but you remained limp, dead weight for him as he covered your eyes and drug you inside. When inside you feel his boot on you, pressing into your shoulder. Pressing into you, your eyes trail over the shine of leather and then up to him. He was standing above you. Taller, stronger, better than you; that's what he wanted right? You’d stare at him, was this what you wanted?

The house was messy, recently abandoned you assumed. It was clear he had been holding up here for a while. He shoved you on the ground, circling around you as you looked up at him. “What are you going to do?” You ask.

“Gonna kill you.” He admitted earnestly. “I know you, I’ve been watching you for a long time- really, I’m just helping you.”

Was he your savior? Was he doing you a favor? Would he do to you what you had never been brave enough to do yourself? Is this what you truly were? An animal built to serve? To be depraved, to crawl across glass and pour blood for someone like him?

“But I…I don’t want to die.” He gives you this pitiful look; his lips pout and his eyes soften for a moment. As if telling you you didn’t know what you were talking about, and how pitiful it was you couldn’t accept it. “What’s your name?” You ask, feeling silly for being hopeful you might be able to get any information out of him. “Jungkook.” You lower your head, wondering if trying to collect any information for authorities was even worth it. Everything about this man was intimidating. He was larger and stronger, it didn’t matter if you fought or not he could drag you around like a ragdoll all he wanted.

Jungkook gets up and walks around the living room, rummaging through piles of what you assumed were his things. “I’ve been watching you for over a year now.” He admits, “Since you went on vacation for your friend's birthday. You were so drunk at that bar, I was going to kill you then, but something told me not to.” He turns back to you with a small bound notebook in hand. “So I followed you back here and got to know you more. Imagine my shock when I realized you were getting married. Was that trip your last night of freedom, is that why you got so messy?” You stare up at him, unsure of what to say. Yes, it was your last night. You came home and your parents pushed you into marriage sooner because of it. He hands you to the notebook, urging you to open it. “I’ve been watching you since. Your life turned out to be so interesting, I couldn’t just kill you after everything.”

You flip through the pages slowly. Pictures of you and your family. Pictures of you at the altar. Scribbled paragraphs about things he heard others say about you, quotes of things you were sure you had said. Notes and bullet points of every piece of information he got. “So, what do you want to do first?”

“Can I take a bath?” You ask, mind going a bit blank and voice flat as you set the notebook down and try to take it all in. 

He let you. The water was hot and steaming when he pushed you in and closed the door. No windows, no way to get out. You settle into the water, the sweat from stress and anxiety washing off as you try and fail to relax. Could you be forgiven for things not of your control? You sink further into the water. You could hear him outside in the hall pacing. His steps were heavy and loud, ringing in your ears as you stared up at the night, fluorescent bathroom light. They did this to you, they all did this to you. Why were you being punished? Why had Jungkook laid eyes on the most pitiful woman in town and decided it was to be her? You thought about your wedding day, and your husband back home. Maybe if you had just settled, stayed with them, and did your duty as a wife Jungkook wouldn’t have stumbled into your life. Yes. you should have wanted less, you decide. Because it seems Jungkook was ready to give it all to you.

You raise your hands out of the water, the deep imprints of the zip ties he had kept you bound with were still there. Angry and a pale red color. The bathwater around you, swirling unpleasantly around you. The hot, humid air inside the bathroom, the hum of the lights, and the moths flying around them. 

You felt rotten like your teeth were falling out, hanging just barely to your gums. Truly, you felt disgusting. 

Jungkook is in the hall waiting when you finally get out. You looked up at him and saw nothing. No starving dog trying to pretend. No confusion, or games, or lies. He knew what he wanted to be and he was exactly that. He wasn’t lying, pretending, or trying to make you believe his actions were right. He said it outright; he wanted to kill you. He was going to kill you.

“I want my wedding dress” you slowly say.

“You don’t like the one you wore at your wedding, you cried the day you tried it on.” Jungkook glances at you, watching you silently agree with him.

“So you won't get it for me?”

“Don’t you want more?” He asks, “I’ll get you a new dress, whatever one you want.” 

Jungkook stares at you the same way the beast that lingered in the corners of your house did. An eager stare, unrelenting, you couldn’t move out of its sight. “I just want that dress.” You repeat, clasping your hands together and pursing your lips, “You said I could have whatever I wanted…”

A smile stretched his lips, “I’ll get it for you.” 

You lay down on the floor of the backseat of the car. Your hands are zip-tied again, and you can’t see Jungkook from your position. What an odd turn of events to say the least…you had fully expected to die the moment he dragged you out of the car and into that house, but now you could see faint glimpses of familiar landmarks leading to your neighborhood from what you can make out from the window. You think about the day of your wedding, and the events that even led up to your parents making a match for you and pushing for it so hard. Despite how vocal you had been about your unhappiness with everything about your childhood, how much you never wanted to step food into their church again; they held a firm belief that you’d come crawling back. If they shamed and argued and pushed enough you’d come back.

For as much hate you felt, twice the amount of guilt weighed you down. After a while, it all became so hopeless. It was exhausting. It made you sick, you couldn’t do anything without guilt nipping your heels, chasing you down until you drowned in it. You couldn’t live, so you came home. Let them talk you into marriage because it would fix everything, they insisted. You just needed a husband, the stability of it, someone to care about other than yourself. Have a few kids and you’ll start walking the right path again.

You waited, but it never came. You never felt better about any of your choices. Deep down you had known you wouldn’t, but you had spent so much of your life blind. Going back to it didn’t help, it wasn’t even familiar anymore. Nothing ever changed. When will God find time for you again? You live, you do as you’re told. You do everything you’re supposed to, and yet nothing. You live how you’re told. You grow, you work, you’re a wife. You follow and you ignore the hound scratching at your walls. You’ll die soon, you can feel it. When will he come back to you?

You weren’t even sure why you wanted that stupid dress. You weren’t sure if you cared what happened to you, or feared what Jungkook was going to do. Maybe it is comforting, in a weird way. No one paid attention to you, no one bothered with you. They wouldn’t until you changed, and deep down you didn’t want to change. But outside of your life now you had no idea what you would do. You never had higher dreams than staying local and marrying within your church growing up. You didn’t even attend college. You never aspired for more, now it felt like it was too late. Jungkook was talking to you from the driver's seat but you couldn’t hear him. Too enveloped in your head to focus on him, he was spouting things he had found about you the last year or so. How he’d never felt a need to stalk the people went after before, let alone this in depth. It was “life-altering” and you were going to be special to him.

The car stops and you feel a weight on your body; the canine-like creature is standing over you. Paws pressing to your stomach and legs, its breath hot, its ears perked up as Jungkook gets out of the car. You feel an immense guilt weighted on you and you consider stopping Jungkook and telling him to just leave and kill you. 

You didn’t want this. You did want this. You weren’t sure. Your husband was home, he wasn’t going to just let Jungkook in to take what he wanted. 

You lay there for what felt like an eternity until he came back, opening the back door and pulling you out of the car. It’s still dark out, chilly, and unmoving as he hooks his arms under yours and drags you back inside. He sits you down in the entryway and locks the door. You look around. “Where’s-”

“Don’t worry about him.” Jungkook shows your husband's wedding band now on his hand. “Come one” he scoffs, “you knew what I was going to do.”

You stare at him, glance and the very faint outline of the body on your kitchen floor. Had you known? You feel a bit sick, deep down you had hoped for it. He leaves you there to find the wedding dress. Jungkook smiles at you one more time before going towards the back bedroom.

When Jungkook saw you, he had every intention of following you out of that bar to kill you. It was his typical hunting ground. Every few months when the desire struck him again he would wait patiently for the right girl to cross his path. You were hard to ignore that night; annoying, he had half a mind to kill you just to shut you up. But when he followed you outside, watching you slump against the wall and fiddle with your phone he took a moment to watch. Turning away and nursing a cigarette on the opposite side of the entryway. 

The way you sniffled and cried on the phone with your mom, asking if there was any other way than to get married. You were too drunk to give him a coherent story of what you were going through, but apparently, you just hated the dress and the groom so much. He crept closer as you hung up, making some lighthearted comment about how rough you looked, and offered you a cigarette.

You talked a bit more about your ass of a fiance and how you felt like you had no other options anymore. He asked where you were from and you told him. He left you there once your friend found you and would see you again a month later. He’d been crammed in his car for days, a map of the town and surrounding forests resting on his steering wheel as he scribbled out the last few leads he had gotten on where exactly you lived. he looked up and there you were, walking with a group of older women into a boutique down the street, exiting with a pretty wrapped box a bit later. He followed you home, and everywhere after that. Watched you walk down the aisle, the wedding open to all members of the church, and allowing him to walk right in. he watched you go home and cry in the backyard, watched you talk your dress off through the window, watched your husband fuck you for the first time. He watched you sit restless every day after that.

Jungkook found your dress backed away in that same ornate gift box on the top shelf of your closet. He smiled and smoothed a hand over the box. All he knew was that he wanted you, wanted to make you happy, and then he wanted to kill you. Put you out of your misery. You’d be better off, he told himself. Clearly, you needed to be saved, so he’d kill for a better reason this time. 

You were crying when he came back. Looking up at him with red, water eyes and pressing your lips together to try and keep quiet. Jungkook set the box beside you, kneeling in front of you and tilting his head. But all you can see before you is that beast, sitting with flattened ears and tongue hanging from between rotting teeth. Staring at you with those eyes, like they were reflecting everything upsetting right back to you.

“All this guilt, there’s no use feeling it.”

“I can’t help it.” You choke out. “I can’t stop it, I see it- feel it everywhere.” You rubbed your eyes, looking at Jungkook and trying to stop your trembling bottom lip.

“Crying won’t won’t make things different. Just because you’re guilty won’t make this better. Your guilt won’t purify you.” He clicks his tongue, reaching to push your hair out of your face. “You wanted me to kill your husband, and that’s okay.”

“Thank god, the psycho thinks everything is alright. How comforting.” You weep.

“Stop holding back, come on. You want things to change, doesn’t matter how they change right? You hated him, I heard you say it myself so many times. Say it.”

“I wanted him to die.” You admit quietly. Something in you wanted this to happen. Asking Jungkook to come back here, a part of you knew the possibility. “It’s just not fair. It's not fair. I’ve done nothing but what I’m supposed to do. My whole life, I’ve been trying so hard my whole life to be what I’m supposed to be, but I don’t understand. Everything was supposed to be better, but I hated him. I hated him so much. Then you got here and I…I just wanted to feel all the pain that he’s caused, but I can’t even stomach it. I wanna be cruel, don’t I deserve to? I can’t stop crying though.”

Jungkook coos, pulling you into the chest and wrapping his arms around you. “Baby, there’s nothing wrong with that. That’s why I’m here, I want you to let go, want you to just do what you want. I watch you every day. You’re so miserable, it’s so weird. I felt bad for you.” Jungkook muses, “I’m here for you now baby, we only have a few hours left though.”

“Can I put the dress on?” Your voice was low and tired. Jungkook nodded, shifting over to take the box's lid off and peel back the tissue paper wrapped around your wedding dress. He takes it out, unraveling it carefully as you watch. 

Your wedding had been a disaster. You cried through most of it, though no one seemed to care at the time. Your late husband was glad just to have a woman to take home. He wasn’t romantic at all, nothing about him attracted you to him. He was one of the slimier men you had come across in your time in the congregation. He interpreted things how he wanted to, and often reminded you of all the things in your life you had done wrong and had yet to be forgiven for. This was the man your parents hoped to whip you back into shape. It worked in a sense, you supposed. You had been forced to settle. Your hate faded each dull day that passed, you grew weary and unhappier. 

The dress was modest. Long-sleeved, high neckline, mane with heavy ugly satin. You put it on there in the hall, feeling too numb to worry about any shame you had in front of Jungkook anymore. He zipped it up for you. Jungkook was kneeling, fixing the skirt, and letting it fluff out. He smooths it down and looks up at you. Despite the heavy eyes and tear-stricken face he smiled, “You look pretty.” 

No one told you that on your wedding day, no one told you that the day your mother chose the dress for you. You smiled, feeling a small ounce of joy for the first time tonight. “What do you want to do now?” 

You ignore his question, “Is that why you’re doing all of this, are you obsessed with me or something?”

“I guess in some sick way I am.” He wanted to kill you, but at the same time, you were the prettiest girl he’d seen in a long time. Something about the repressed guilt and how you teetered on the edge of breaking completely just got him he supposed. “I watched you the night of your wedding, you were so perfect. Everything was perfect until he came in.” He scowls at the thought, “It’s a shame.”

“Do you want to…” you trailed off, your voice a bit nervous. 

Jungkook’s fingers twitch, he's playing with the trim of your skirt. “I do” he murmured, “I’ve thought about you every night since I met you” He raves, “you’re the only one- why? Why do you make me so crazy?” He asks, brushing off any answer you try to give him. “Want you, need you” He breathed, the fabric of your wedding dress bunching up as he pulled at it.

“I can’t-” you grabbed at his hands. You could feel it, the guilt creeping in. Your eyes land on your wedding ring. Torn with morbid want and a last shred of gut-wrenching guilt, you looked into his eyes. Tempting dark pools stare back at you he grabs at your hand. “We’ve come so far already, don’t stop now. Besides” he makes it a point to flash your late husband's wedding band. “I’m your husband now.” you flush, the words twisting in your ears are wrong; everything about tonight was wrong. It felt like a dream more than reality.

“I know you think I’m attractive” he pushes through the layers of the dress, his hands cold as he rests them on your thighs. “It’s so wrong of you baby” he purrs, “you know I’m gonna kill you, but you want me don’t you?” 

“I know” you whimper, chest heaving as you watch him. His fingers trace against your skin, his hand moving between your legs. 

“When’s the last time your husband touched you?” He asks, “This is what you want, right? You want someone to want you?”

Your fingers twist in his hair, gripping tight as if you were about to fall. Your legs trembled under the weight of guilt and need over what was happening. He was right though, it had been a long time since you felt wanted at all. The moment you had sex the first time those years ago, you knew no one would want you. Not in the church, not here. Impure, a whore. Your mother had even said it when you sobbed and told her. 

Your back arches, your thighs tremble, and you let your grip on his hair loosen. You fear toppling over, your breathing a bit ragged. You felt his lips trace your inner thigh, leaving half-hearted kisses and sinking his teeth into your skin. 

“You look so pretty in your dress.” Jungkook reappears, kneeling before you a minute longer. Fixing the skirt of the dress, smoothing the fabric down then reaching for your hand. He traces the wedding ring a few times.

“Where do you want me to do it?” Jungkook’s question falls on deaf ears. You’re sitting in the passenger side of his car, still wearing a dress and still trying to steady your pounding heart.

Where did you want to die?

Did you want to die?

You were scared of living as much as dying; but was there anything left for you anyways? 

Jungkook you supposed, there was a weird want for him. Maybe it was messed up, he was into you. He took all this time to watch you and wanted you to be happy before you died. You weren’t sure if you were happy. 

Before you got out of high school the town church moved to a new building. A bigger, newer, and nicer one. The old one was small, typical of what you would imagine a small, secluded town’s church would look like. He took you there, unprompted. It was fitting maybe. You walked in front of him and listened to Jungkook load the gun and mutter under his breath. Once inside you stand in place, waiting for him to turn and shoot. You look around the familiar space, your stomach turning, memories of the past playing in your mind. 

The cross mounted above you is entrancing, draped in sheer black fabric, and its shadowy outline is stark against the moon's light. Your eyes flicker back to Jungkook, who seems to have caught onto your staring and also happens to stand before you draped in the moonlight. 

Your last moments would be here. Everything around you felt distorted, and unreal as you looked around another time. 

Staining his hands red and tearing into something clean was all he was. All he wanted. You were both ugly in a sense, he was just more open about it. You look up at him. It’s scary now. You had known what was going to happen from the moment he took you. You knew. You knew he wouldn’t give you a happy ending, only give you a temporary release from everything. He killed your husband, it made you happy. He let you prance around in a wedding dress and pretend one last time you could do it all again. He played well with you, you had been able to push aside the dark truth of your situation for a time. But now he was standing before you, reveling in some kind of glory of it all. Did glory taste different to him? You couldn’t imagine- but was letting him kill that man no different than this? In a way, you had killed your husband, was this all some kind of long, drawn-out punishment for that? For lifelong confusion and defiance?

You hoped someone would find you when you were. Find your carcass and see, understand that you had been, still were, always being ripped open. Torn to pieces and dragged to muddy waters, you hoped they’d know you hadn’t been scared, maybe even welcomed it. Let them know this was love; in some twisted way. Love from Jungkook, or god sending him your way. You stopped believing in god a long time ago, grappled with it for so long, but you hoped he had loved you; at least once. Make the struggle worth it, prove you wrong. Or maybe it was love from yourself for closing your eyes and accepting it. 

Please, let this be love. Let your body be stained with love for once.

taglist: @aft3rhrs

[mamawasatesttube]

#25 for the gentle prompts, maybe? :D

25. "You can sit on my lap."

By the fifth time Tim shifts his weight, leans on his staff, and heaves a sigh more explosive than Mount St. Helens, Kon has just about had it. The stubborn set to Tim's jaw means he doesn't want Kon to point out that he's clearly tired, but also, uh, the idiot is clearly tired, and it's getting a little ridiculous.

"Rob."

Tim holds up an imperious finger. "Don't say anything. I'm fine."

Kon rolls his eyes. "We're probably gonna be stuck up here for stakeout purposes for, like, at least another hour or two. You might as well make it easier on both of us."

Tim gives him a mildly dirty look. It's probably supposed to be worse than mildly dirty, but despite himself, Tim hasn't been able to stop looking at Kon with, like, heart eyes, ever since his resurrection and return. Even when they're bickering like they did as kids. It... it gets Kon, sometimes. He tries not to think about it too hard.

"I'm fine," Tim repeats stubbornly. He folds his arms over his chest and stares down at the warehouse they're watching. "I'm fully capable of finishing the stakeout."

Oh, for the love of—

Kon leans over and bonks him on top of his cowled head. "Yeah, I wasn't disputing that, dumbass."

Tim stiffens for a second. Then he heaves another huge sigh, his shoulders slumping. "...Sorry," he mutters, scuffing one boot against the wet rooftop; a pebble goes skittering off towards the edge. "I, uh... sometimes get all defensive and kinda grouchy when I'm tired."

Both amused and endeared, Kon snorts. "Yeah, trust me, I've noticed." He lightly tugs at Tim's cape. "You've been on your feet for hours. Why not sit for a bit at least?"

Tim glances down at the wet rooftop and makes a face. It's been raining on and off since afternoon faded into evening, and Kon has to concede the point; stakeout or not, that's not the coziest place to chill. Sitting in a puddle might mean Tim's poor ass gets hypothermic—literally, his ass. Yikes.

Well, easy solution. Kon hops up onto an invisible recliner and leans back comfortably, then holds out his arms. "C'mere. You can sit in my lap."

For the second time in as many minutes, Tim freezes for half a heartbeat. Kon can hear his heart rate kick up a notch, can hear the breath catch in his throat, can hear his eyelashes brush the insides of the lenses in his cowl as he blinks rapidly.

Even behind the cowl, the look on his face is still as fond as ever. It does things to Kon's heart, too, if he's being honest.

"...Yeah, okay," Tim says. It's several seconds too late to be casual, but both of them politely don't acknowledge that.

Kon tugs him into his lap, winds his arms around his waist, and wraps his TTK around him for extra security. Tim sighs again, softer this time. He's stiff for a moment, but when Kon doesn't start screaming about cooties or whatever, he relaxes incrementally, muscle by muscle. Finally, after several heartbeats, his head comes to rest against Kon's.

Oh, Kon thinks. Oh.

This is nice.

Oh, no.

"Um. Thanks," Tim mutters. His heart is definitely beating faster. His fingers curl into Kon's jacket. Fuck, Kon likes that—he likes that a lot. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.

"Anytime, Rob," he answers, way more casually than Tim managed, if he does say so himself. "Make yourself comfy. You barely weigh anything to me anyways."

"Mn." Tim goes quiet, but after a moment, he does slip his arm around Kon's shoulders, and... that's really nice, too.

"I guess we should keep watching for our guy to come out of there, huh." Kon forces his attention away from Tim and back down to the warehouse. They're on a mission here. He can't just get distracted by... by... canoodling.

"Yeah," Tim agrees, and—is Kon imagining it, or is there a note of reluctance somewhere deep down in his voice? "I guess we should."

[yuri-is-online]

I feel like Octavinelle would all respond pretty well to you being lonely tbh

Azul: Bullied, lonely child? Only two friends made because he was "fun" enough and felt at risk of losing them? If you talk about being lonely he MIGHT bring up a contract, but I could also see your honesty being met by the most clumsy olive branch of him stammering that HE could be your friend... since hes so generous, of course (liar he wants a friend too)

Floyd: What?! That's no fun! Being lonely almost as bad as being bored! He kind of thrives on attention/entertainment so I feel like his solution is just to drag you wherever he goes. YOU have to be the one to say that no, you have to go to your own class not his.

Jade: While I do think he would be most manipulative if you told him you're lonely, I think it would be tame - akin to "hey eat this weird mushroom" or dragging you on a hike you are NOT experienced enough for as his "requirements" for companionship. He wouldn't stop hanging out if you refused, he really just likes seeing your reactions. I also don't think he'd ever kick you out of a room he's in, and he'd do his own thing while you do yours

I'm so glad you sent this because I was just thinking while I was settling to sleep that I had a lot more to say but was worried a separate post might be too much.

All Three

If there is one thing Twisted Wonderland does really well it's acknowledging the inhuman aspects of its characters. Malleus has so much magic he fails to solve problems without it, Ruggie has really sensitive hearing, Leona talks about smell a lot etc.

Point being the trio has a bunch of things they find weird about life on land. They're not really going to make fun of Yuu for feeling out of place. Assuming they don't trip and fall a whole bunch, that's just too easy.

They're technically new up here too yeah? Let them show you the ropes.

Azul

He's surprisingly soft with Yuu during events. Especially if you pick dialogue options that show intelligence or planning.

^ this happens if you get why he's selling salad cups I think?

^ and this one is if you assume you'll be using the bell of salvation to destroy the flowers

My one amendment to your idea is that I don't think he'd be shy about it at all. He'd be putting forward a show of confidence because of how he was slighted in the past. He would think your friendship was the most natural conclusion in the whole world.

Your smart. He's smarter. Together you could make some real magic! And maybe play some board games. He could use some time to relax.

Floyd

Completely right. I already talked a lot about him in my original answer, but I do think he enjoys hanging out with Yuu when he's in the mood to be social.

He's got all of that extrovert energy Idia's so afraid of, and if you start indulging him, you won't get to stop. I think he'd be really happy to have someone go along with what it is he wants to do no matter how outlandish it gets. Even better if you look like you're having fun!

I could see him say that you "owe him" for hanging out with you when he wants some of your food though.

Jade

Oh? You're lonely? What a shame. How horrible. Terrible really.

That must mean you'll have no problem signing up for his club right? Because that's very much what I could see him doing. He really wants another member to order arou- I mean enjoy the mountains with.

^ If you tell Epel you will be "Here for whatever [the team] needs." When he asks you to help run the Pit Stop, Jade immediately decides this means you will commit a crime for him. Which to be fair-

I would object to the bit about taking you on a hike you're unqualified for though. He tells you not to try climbing Mount Moln until you've done an easier one first.

Obviously I agree about the sketchy mushrooms. If he's brave enough to walk into the Culinary Crucible with them, what's Ramshackle?

Him coming to the Ramshackle guest room to sit quietly while you both do your own thing is something he'd really enjoy. You make much more interesting faces when he gives you a break from his teasing.

[ponyosmom35]

first time

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Liability chapter twenty seven

synopsis: reader goes out with her friends and Simon is worried about her going out without him.

warnings: smut, cursing, angst, mentions of PTSD, oral (f & m receiving)

MDNI

Liability series:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

“Where were you?” 

“Oh shit, I forgot to tell you I went to brunch with the girls, then we went to world market, wanna see the cute stuff I got?” she asks excitedly 

“Uh... sure. Yeah... sure go ahead” He forces a smile 

“So this rug is gonna be for the entryway, I also found these cute candles to add to the shelf in the living room. I also got a basket for some of the blankets and this really pretty mirror that I may need help mounting later” she smiles 

“The rug's fine and the candles are great... and... the basket and mirror are good too. But the real question is... how long were you gone?”

“Few hours why?” she asks 

“Yeah... I missed you, is all” he responds, trying to avoid an argument. She notices his change in behavior and narrows her eyes, she sets down the candles and crosses her arms. 

“Why are you upset with me?”

He pauses before he speaks “I was worried about you... that's all. But you're back now... and you're fine... So forget it” 

“Why would you worry about me?” she asks in annoyance “I was just with the girls”

“Forget it alright? Lets put up this mirror” he tries to change the subject 

“No tell me” 

“I don’t like the idea of you being out on your own”

“Is there something you’re not telling me? Should I be worried?” she asks 

“No, baby... of course not. you're my girl and I worry about you”

“I can’t bring you everywhere with me Simon”

He can't help but raise his voice as he replies. I know you can't bring me everywhere... but you are my girl, aren't you? So you've gotta understand where I'm coming from” 

“No I don’t understand because you aren’t making any fucking sense! Tell me why you’re worried about me going out without you! Stop dancing around the fucking point!” He grimaces as she raises her voice. He takes a deep breath before speaking slowly and calmly. He's not doing a very good job of concealing the fact that he's angry. 

“When you're out without me there are all kinds of things that could happen to you”

“Simon if this is about Las Almas then I’m sorry but you can’t let that worry you! We’re safe here! I’ve grown up with these people, there’s nowhere safer for us in the world! I can’t put my life on hold just because you’re overprotective about possible threats that don’t exist!”

“Don't tell me that those threats don't exist! There are all kinds of people in the city who might want to harm you... what if I wasn't here to protect you? Do you have any idea what kind of shit I’ve seen? I’ve seen the absolute worst form of humanity, forgive me for wanting to keep you safe” 

“ Do you have any idea what kind of shit I’ve seen? I’ve seen the absolute worst form of humanity, forgive me for wanting to keep you safe” 

He sighs “I never want you to lock yourself away, or hide from the world. All I’m saying is that... that..”He searches for the right words that will get through to her. “That you shouldn’t put yourself in danger unnecessarily. You want to go for a walk? Go shopping? Go to the library? That’s fine. But going out without me is something I can’t afford to let you-”

“Let me? I’m sorry since when did I need to ask your permission?” she asks angrily 

“ Don't do that... don't twist my words like that... you know damn well that’s not what I meant”

“I can’t do this toxic shit Simon, I’ve dealt with it before I won’t do it again” she says picking up her keys and walking towards the door. “For the record I survived on my own for 26 years without you, I think I’m okay to go to lunch with my fucking friends!”

Before she can make it out of the door, he grabs her arm. “Listen to me baby.”

“What?!” she asks 

He lets go of her arm and gets close to her. He speaks softly as he tries to calm things down. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I reacted like that. Things have been so good between us, I’ve never been happier. I guess I’m just waiting for the other show to drop and I can’t let anything happen to you. I love you more than anything in this world, please don’t walk out that door lets just figure this out together”

She looks up at him, all of her previous anger disappearing instantly. Her eyes filling with tears as happiness swells in her heart  “That’s the first time you’ve said you love me” 

He looks down at her realizing that she was right, he’d alluded it before, however the three words were never said. They’d been taking things slow, for both of their sakes. Simon was not used to sharing himself with another, his trauma and PTSD was very real and they dealt with it together. Having been able to read each other without needing to say the words. 

“I love you too” she cries, launching herself into his arms, he lifts her up and she wraps her legs around his waist. He kisses her hair and moves it, placing gentle kisses on her neck and cheek. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to say it”

“I’m not” she responds kissing him gently. 

leaning up and kissing her softly, her hands tangle in his hair while his find her waist. After a few moments it gets heated and she tugs on the ends of his hair earning a groan of delight making her smirk against his lips. She allows her hands to fall from his hair and down his chest to the end of his shirt lifting it. He takes it off and reconnects their lips while he works on the shirt she'd stolen from him. Once he gets it over her head she blushes at the realization that it was finally happening. He carries her up to the bedroom and places her on the ground. Kissing her like she was the air he needed to breathe. 

 He backs them to the bed and she sits down scooting herself back and laying on her back before he crawls on top her and begins kissing down her neck, she gasps in pleasure. She smiles and reconnects their lips once again while getting to work on trying to get his pants off, he groans and pulls away slipping off his black pants quickly and throws them behind him carelessly. He then looks down at her breathing heavy but rather than kissing her again he just stares 

    "what?"

    "you're just so beautiful" he says moving a stray piece of hair out of her face, she giggles and hides her face against his arm

    "we should probably stop" 

    "why?" she asks in confusion, had she done something wrong? His head perks up and he looks at her in surprise

    "I mean unless you don't want to stop"

    "no I don't want to stop" she says pulling him back down to into a kiss

"I love you so much" he says against her lips, he pulls away and places a kiss on her cheek before moving down to her neck where he sucked and licked until he was satisfied with the mark he had created on her, her breath quickens as he lowers himself and moves his hands behind her back unclipping her bra before placing short kisses against her right nipple. She gasps and reaches for his hair, he smirks and moves over to the other giving her even more pleasure. Simon moves back and places more open mouthed kisses down her stomach stopping at the hem of her leggings 

"we definitely don't need these" he comments, taking the black stretchy material off of her, he discards it behind him and gets back to his previous actions. Simon places kisses on her thighs and she squeezes them together unconsciously, he smirks bringing his mouth to the hem of her panties and pulling them down with his teeth before discarding them as well. He places a hand on her thigh rubbing it while the other gently begins to massage her clit, she gasps loudly causing Simon to smirk at her from his position 

"what do you want me to do?" he asks in a low voice

"I - I want"

"what baby?"

"your mouth" she cries, Simon smirks and kisses her thighs before swiping his tongue against her, she arches her back in pleasure as he continues going faster and more aggressively. Her hands reach down and find his hair pulling at it as he brings her closer to her high, suddenly his mouth pulls away from her and she frowns in disappointment. He quickly goes back to rubbing her clit with his thumb skillfully smiling as she writhes underneath him, he switches from rubbing and inserts his finger inside of her sensitive vagina, he pumps in and out a few times before adding another. She whimpers as pleasure begins building in her stomach, Simon then moves his mouth back over her and begins to work his magic with his tongue. By now she was a moaning mess as she gripped Simon's hair desperately trying to ride out her high. The pleasure rushes over her and she sighs happily as Simon brings himself back up to her. She grabs his face and kisses him with passion, he was the only person who could make her feel this way and she wanted to make him feel the same. She then pulls away and gets off of the bed, Simon watches her with confusion but she ignores it and kisses his cheek before dropping to the ground. He instantly reaches forward and grabs her arms causing her to look up at him

"you don't have to do this"

"I want to make you feel good" she responds, he nods and she smirks reaching her hand up and placing it on his hardened penis, she looks up at him and smiles as his head tipped back and his eyes closed. She reaches up and pulls down his boxers watching as it springs out with curiosity, she'd never seen one before. she moves closer to him and takes it into her hand moving it up and down his large member slowly, she had no clue what to do but she figured she was doing ok as a string of curses left his mouth. She moves her hand faster before placing as much as she could into her mouth, Simon curses loudly and grabs onto her arm as she moves up and down making sure to work the rest of it with her hand. After a few moments she takes it out and focuses on the tip swirling her tongue around it smirking as Simon moans lowly. She then places him back in her mouth and does her best as she brings him to his edge 

"I'm close" he says, she removes her mouth and continues moving her hand up and down him until he finishes. He breathes heavily staring at her in awe before grabbing her arms and helping her up, he pushes her back on the bed before disappearing into the bathroom. When he returns his member is cleaned off and he had a happy smile on his face

    "that was incredible" he says crawling back over to her, she nods and pulls his face to hers kissing him passionately once again. His hands explore her body, after a few moments he pulls away and stares at her with a smile 

    "what?" she asks

    "I'm just so in love with you its unreal" he says softly with a smile 

    "I'm in love with you too Simon"

    "are you sure about this? we can stop" he reassures brushing hair out of her face 

    "you're my person, I want be with you in every way possible"

    "if I'm hurting you please just tell me and I'll stop ok?"

"ok" He then reconnects their mouths together once again and her stomach fills with excitement and nerves, she was ready for this. She loved Simon more than anything and she wanted to be with him. She stares at him in awe wondering how she got so lucky. He sends her one last look and she kisses him again to show him that she wanted this more than anything. Simon moves himself over her and spreads her legs giving him full access, she gasps as she feels the tip rub against her core and moans quietly. He then slowly pushes himself inside of her and she clenches around him gasping in pain, she grips onto his arms trying to lessen the pain. 

"are you ok? am I hurting you?" he asks with a panicked expression, the girl cannot bring herself to speak but shakes her head. She wanted to do this. He moves himself in fully and she moves her head against his, he kisses her neck trying to comfort her and make it better. He dips his head and kisses her cheek before moving over to her nose

"is it better now?" he asks, she nods and he begins to pull back out slowly, he sends her another look before moving back in a bit faster this time and she sighs as the pain had lessened. They continue slowly and with each passing minute the girl begins to feel better and better. She began to arch her back and move with him as he went faster, her small moans were driving Simon crazy. Simon moves her legs up and she wraps them around his waist crying out as he hits her g spot every time she moves her head to his neck and pulls at his hair. She begins to kiss his neck. She had no idea how long had passed when she began feeling that familiar build-up

"I'm close" she mumbles holding onto his hair

"me too" he responds as his strokes begin to grow sloppy and she cries out as pleasure washes over her body panting and trying to catch her breath. Simon continues going in and out before finishing himself moaning loudly in her ear, he collapses on her chest and she reaches up brushing her fingers through his slightly damp hair. He then lifts himself up and pulls out of her before rolling over, she turns to her side and he instantly pulls her into his arms gently stroking her skin. It was nice being alone, just the two of them, this was not a gift they got often as her brother still hates his guts. But right now nothing could ruin this moment for her, it was perfect, she had her first time with the man she loved and planned to spend the rest of her life with. She looks at him and admires every detail of his face and smiles as he jokingly covers it. she reaches her hand up and traces from his nose down to his lips and finishes it off with a soft kiss which makes him smile brightly.

    "so was it everything you ever dreamed of?" Simon jokes causing her to blush and hit his chest before covering her face in embarrassment, he reaches up and moves her hands from her face so he can see her. Her mind wandered back to the sex dream she had about him after they first met. 

    "did I hurt you?" 

    "no you didn't" 

    " I love you, I don't know how you did it but you made me feel whole again. I want spend the rest of eternity with you, even then It wouldn’t be enough"

    "we can have forever" Simon stares at her with sadness as he knew that his words would not ring true, their forever wouldn’t be as long as she hoped and it was his fault. Simon shakes the negative thoughts of the future out of his head and smiles wondering to himself how in the holy hell he got her. She had the purest heart and he was far from the same, they were complete opposites yet they worked. They both respected each other and never dared to change the latter, they worked well as a team.

Tag list:

@vivi123abc 

[lullinglily]

Hello!

Can I request a Radahn x gn where he takes the reader horseback riding on Leonard at night to stargaze.

Hope this isn’t super vague

(Btw love u work)

Tysm! I apologize for being a bit slow with requests.

General Radahn x gn!Reader Stargazing Headcanons

All plans had been set aside for the evening, the date scheduled months in advance. Between the general’s constant military preparations and his weekly trips to Sellia, time for the both of you had been made scarce; but no longer. 

The general fought with a distinct merriness that morning, a jovial energy powering his blades — his men took notice, of course. They learned the source of his cheer soon enough however, and all at once did they understand.

So few individuals had this effect on Radahn, the only two being his steed Leonard and you, his consort. Both of which, his men learned, he would be spending ample time with today.

The general’s precious consort was a most beloved figure among the Redmanes, and a beacon of light for their cherished general.

Jerren was put in charge of the castle while Radahn spent the rest of his evening with you, a task the old man accepted with a wink and warm smile. 

You met your loving husband with your own steed’s reigns in one hand and a pair of sugar cubes in the other. The general’s visage instantly lit up as you came into view, and so too did Leonard’s once he saw the gift you held for him. 

Radahn wasted no time scooping you up as soon as your horses had had their fill of your affection. He’d missed you so greatly the past few moons he was sure his heart would burst with excitement the moment he had you in his grasp. It remained intact, of course, but roared with an affection unmatched. 

He held your hand and helped you atop your mount, his touch lingering for a moment longer than needed.

Radahn kept a slow pace as he led, preferring to savor the moment and spend as much time with you as possible.

The brilliant stars your Radahn governed began to pepper the sky as the evening stretched on into night; and as he looked over to ensure you were navigating the darkness with ease he felt his heart fill close to bursting yet again.

There you were, his sweet consort, bathed in the heavenly light of his night sky, gazing up at it in awe. He swelled with pride — with love for you — and promptly dismounted.

You laid beside him, felt his warmth around you as he squeezed you closer to his side, the both of you staring up at the ever-still stars. 

He pointed out to you the various astral beauties he had come to know so well over the years due to their stasis, feeling his smile grow wider as you nodded and admired not only his strength but his knowledge as well. 

You could point to almost any star and he would call it by name; nevermind that he might be making them up as he goes just to impress you.

He pointed out two particularly bright stars that seemed in close proximity to each other, saying they were like the both of you; destined to be near to one another for as long as they both shall live. That saying, you thought, sounded familiar. One reminiscent of a promise made for eternity and sealed by an exchanging of rings. Your wedding took place underneath the night sky as well, if you remembered correctly. 

It seemed your husband had remembered the event just as you did, and sought out your lips to kiss you just as tenderly as he had back then.

His hand came up to gently tilt your face towards his own, and yet again the stars were witness to their conquerer’s burning love for the one he called his own.

[missisjoker]

Lost Prince!Jace x Cregan Stark

A short foreword: 1. Boltons flay people because they can "steal" others' magic by wearing the skins.

2. Dragons can't fly over the wall because it breaks their connection to their riders AND breaks their connection to any warg that might be controlling them.

***

On his 10th nameday, prince Jacaerys takes his first flight. It goes splendidly well, and later that night, he sneaks out of his room to fly on Vermax again. He doesn't know that far in the North, a Bolton is wearing the freshly flayed skin of a skin changer and trying to warg into Vermax. When he takes to the skies, Vermax gets "snatched", and flies straight to the Dreadford. But they get caught up in a storm, get disoriented, and end up North of the wall. The moment Vermax crosses above the wall, control is lost, and he crashes down to the ground, taking Jacaerys with him.

The boy regains himself in White Tree, wildling village north of the Wall. The wildlings keep him alive because he is "magical" to them. They start training him in their ways, teaching him, and forcing him to fight. Sometimes bleed and starve him for their "magical" rituals.

Sometime later, during a hunt, he sees a group of Night Watch riders, and tries running to them, hoping with all his heart they listen and take him back to his mother - but almost gets killed. He starts hating the Crows for abandoning him, and hating his family for getting him on that dragon and then forgetting about him.

Years pass. Jacaerys grows into a fine wildling leader, smart and brave and ruthless, because wildlings are unforgiving- and so is he. His people call him "Prince".

He learns that a neighboring tribe has been worshipping the Others by leaving newborn babies in the mouths of weirwood trees for the Others to "eat". He is horrified, but...It's not his business what others do onto their children- after all, his own family left him for dead, so why should he care? He also has nightmares where a distant gnarly voice talks to him, promises to flay him and wear his skin like a cloak, and mount a dragon. Or, maybe, break him instead, and warg into him. And then return to Kings Seat and become the King of the 7 kingdoms. He doesn't know what it means, but feels glowing eyes watching him from the dark.

One day, he learns that the Crows raided the neighboring village, snatched a sacrifice baby, and now, judging by the sudden onslaught of Winter, the Others are pissed and are coming to kill everything breathing north of the Wall.

He leads his men after the Crows. His ambush is almost successful, he even sees the child- a small bundle of flesh and skin writhing in cold snow- he thinks of keeping the child alive, but then decides that killing it IS a mercy. He doesn't get to finish the job though, because a stone wall of a man in a wolf fur cloak slams into him. They fight, and the fight is brutal, and even though Jace is one of the best wildling fighters, he finds himself outmatched. He's disarmed, thrown on the floor, and a sword pressed into his throat. He has a flash thought "this is valyrian steel", and realizes- this must be someone from the South, perhaps a lord. A lord in the North? A Stark? "Killing an unarmed opponent? I thought Starks were supposed to be honorable." The man grabs him by the hair and drags him up to meet his gaze, "Honor is reserved for those who deserve it. And there's no honor in killing a suckling babe", and then Jace's world goes black.

He wakes up bound in a cave, near a fire, with Crows around him and with a Stark man watching him with the grey-blue eyes of steel. "Stop staring, it's impolite." "You whisper in your sleep." The man comes closer, and Jace feels uneasy under his piercing gaze, "Was I whispering your name?" The man smiles, and Jace begrudgingly admits that the man is handsome. "You're the one they call Prince?" "Yes, but you can call me Jace." "Hm." The man lifts his chin and runs a thumb over Jace's jaw- the same spot he clocked him in earlier. "Admiring your work?". The man's lips twitch in a half-smile, "And what if I am?"

There is a sudden commotion outside, and Jace finds himself alone. He crawls to the fire and burns the ropes around his hands, trying not to scream when fire licks his skin. He gets out of the cave expecting to run into a centinel, but outside is a massacre. There is a pack of wolves attacking the camp. He sees the Stark man- throwing off a beast off his men, face and cloak drenched in blood. Jace wants to run, but then sees a giant bear going straight for Stark. So, he grabs a half-broken spear from the frozen ground, screams, "Stark!", and throws it at the bear. Stark turns, and his eyes widen in horror because the spear only nicks the bear's side, and the bear roars and charges Jace. Jace moves and evades, but the beast still catches him with one of his paws, knocking him on the ground, and starts to claw at his chest. Jace hears his own bones break and skin tear, and screams when the bear goes for his throat, but in that moment a valyrian steel blade runs the bear's head through and exits thought his maw. Jace sees blood dripping on the snow and doesn't know if it's his, or the bears- and the world goes black, yet again.

When he wakes up, he ... is lost. His body aches badly, but he is warm, and his bed feels softer than he ever remembers feeling. He is covered in furs, and a brightly lit fireplace licks stone walls and arched ceiling with amber glow. He tries to move, but a firm hand stops him.

"Try not to move".

The Stark man is sitting next to his bed. His face is covered in scratches, but his eyes are ... soft. Jace feels a sting of something in his chest.

"Where..."

"Winterfell. You were badly hurt, so I brought you here with me."

Stark cups his head and helps Jace sit. His hands are rough from handling a sword, but strong and gentle, and Jace melts into the touch. The man gives him a sip of water,

"the bear..."

"It was a warg."

"A warg?"

"A skin changer. A man who controls animals from afar, makes them do their bidding."

Jace swallows hard,

"Is he dead?"

"No, he's not." A moment of silence follows, then,

"I Wish to go back."

"No."

"Am I your hostage then?"

"It isn't safe for you back there, your Highness."

Jace's face burns,

"Your Highness, is it now?"

Stark looks at him for a long moment, gaze unwavering, and Jace feels his skin prickle.

"Your name isn't Jace."

"What?"

"You kept repeating a phrase in your sleep. Se anogar hen zaldrizes iksos isse issa." The northerner's accent sounds a bit wild, but the words are undeniable. "The blood of the dragon is in my veins." You're Jacaerys Velaryon, son of Rhaenyra Targaryen and the Crown Prince of Seven Kingdoms."

Jace feels treacherous tears burn in his eyes.

"Jacaerys is dead."

Stark stays quiet for a while, then sighs, "Maybe so. But, whatever it is- stay here until your wounds heal."

Jace's heart is hammering in his chest and he turns away from the man, hiding a single tear rolling down his cheek.

"I don't need your pity".

"I am not offering you pity, I am paying back my debt. Stay here as my guest, and once you recover, if you still wish so, I will escort you back North of the wall."

Jace's eyes search the man's handsome face,

"Do you promise?"

"I promise. As long as you don't kill any more of my men."

He offers a hand to Jace, and Jace shakes it.

"Then it's a deal."

The man smiles, and Jace wonders for a second why does his hand fits so perfectly into the man's.

[artyandink]

amoralism | thirteen

SUMMARY: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

TW: Dean’s the mole, the Sucide Squad formation and it being a train wreck, a bit of family problems, angst, smut

STW: unprotected sex (do not do this at any circumstances), oral (f. receiving), betrayal!era Dean sex so it’s kinda like if Demon!Dean would do it which we all love, kind of angsty sex, rough sex, rather emotional

SERIES MASTERLIST

Song Inspo: Tears of Gold - Faouzia

catastrophism

You and Sam were hunched over a pile of papers and computer screens in his dimly lit living room. The room, usually a sanctuary, felt heavy with the weight of your mission. The hum of the computer and the rustling of papers were the only sounds breaking the silence as you scoured for any sign of Dean.

“We’ve got to find him before he goes underground completely,” Sam said, his voice strained but determined. His eyes darted across the screen, following the trail of data that might lead you to Dean. The pressure was mounting; it was evident in the lines etched deep into his face.

You nodded absentmindedly, your eyes glazed over as you flipped through a file with disjointed leads. The stress was palpable, and though you were trying to keep your focus, your thoughts kept wandering back to Dean—the betrayal, the manipulation, the overwhelming realization of it all. It was hard to shake the image of him as the mole, a shadow over every decision and interaction.

Sam glanced over at you, noting the weariness in your eyes and the tight grip you had on the edge of the table. “Hey,” he said gently, “are you okay? You seem...off.”

You blinked, snapping back to reality. “I’m fine,” you replied, though your voice was brittle and unconvincing. “We just need to keep going. We can’t stop now.”

Sam didn’t buy it. He knew you too well. “You’ve been pushing yourself really hard. Maybe we should take a break. It’s been nonstop since—”

“No,” you cut him off sharply, perhaps a little too sharply. “We don’t have time for breaks. Dean’s out there, and he’s a threat. We have to find him before he disappears.”

Sam’s expression hardened slightly, his protective instincts kicking in. “I understand that. But if you’re not in a good place, it’s going to make things harder. We need you at your best.”

You felt a surge of frustration, but underneath it, a deep current of fear and sadness. “I’m fine,” you insisted again, but this time your voice trembled.

Sam’s face softened, seeing through the façade you were desperately trying to maintain. “Look, if you’re struggling, it’s okay. We’re in this together. But you need to let yourself take a breath.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the pressure of it all was too much. You tried to hold back the tears, but they began to spill over uncontrollably. The stress, the worry, the betrayal—everything was crashing down on you, and you felt utterly defeated.

Sam stood up from his chair, his demeanor shifting to one of concern and empathy. “Hey,” he said gently, approaching you. “It’s okay to let it out. We’re going to get through this.”

You couldn’t hold back any longer. You slumped forward, your shoulders shaking with sobs as the tears flowed freely. It was as if all the stress and pain you’d been trying to contain had finally broken free. The sound of your crying filled the room, raw and unabashed.

Sam moved quickly to your side, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. The warmth of his hug was a balm to your frayed nerves. “It’s alright,” he murmured, his voice steady and reassuring. “We’re going to figure this out. You don’t have to carry this burden alone.”

You clung to him, taking solace in the simple act of being held. His presence was grounding, a stark contrast to the chaos swirling in your mind. The tears kept coming, each one a release of pent-up emotion and stress. Sam held you firmly, his hand gently rubbing your back in a soothing rhythm.

As you began to regain some composure, you heard a gentle knock on the door. It creaked open, revealing Jess, rubbing her baby bump. She stepped in, concern etched on her face. “Sam? I heard... Are you guys okay? Do you need anything?”

Sam glanced up, his eyes apologetic. “Hey, Jess. We’re... we’re fine. Just had a bit of a moment.”

Jess looked between you and Sam, understanding dawning on her face. “Do you need something to eat or drink? Maybe just some time to relax?”

You pulled away slightly from Sam’s embrace, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Jess shook her head, her expression gentle. “Don’t apologize. Everyone needs a break sometimes. Here, let me get you something. It’s the least I can do.”

She left the room, her presence a calming one. You and Sam were left alone again, but the tension in the room had lessened. Sam’s gaze was soft, and he gave you a reassuring nod. “It’s okay to take a step back. We’ll get through this together.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Thanks, Sam. I just...I didn’t realize how overwhelmed I was.”

“It’s understandable,” Sam said. “This whole situation is tough on everyone. But remember, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

You nodded, grateful for his support. Jess returned shortly with a tray of snacks and drinks, setting them down on the table. “Here you go,” she said with a warm smile. “Just some comfort food. It might not solve everything, but it can help.”

You managed a small, grateful smile as you took a sip of the tea Jess had brought. The simple act of kindness felt like a balm to your frayed nerves. Jess’s presence, combined with Sam’s unwavering support, helped you find a moment of calm amid the storm.

As you ate and drank, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, the atmosphere easing as you all shared a brief respite from the intensity of the situation. Sam and Jess talked about their plans for the weekend, and you listened, allowing yourself to be momentarily distracted from the pressing worries.

You and Sam made your way through the narrow, dimly lit corridors of the FBI headquarters, the weight of the last few weeks pressing down on you like a vice. The air was thick with the tension that had been building ever since Dean's betrayal came to light, and it was all you could do to keep moving forward. Sam walked beside you, his long strides purposeful, but there was a heaviness to his movements that you recognized all too well. He’d been carrying the burden of Dean’s actions just as much as you had, maybe even more.

As you approached the office of Director Bobby Singer, your stomach twisted in knots. Bobby wasn’t just your superior; he was practically family. He’d known Sam and Dean since they were kids, and he’d watched them grow into the men they were today. The thought of facing him, of telling him that you still had no solid leads on Dean’s whereabouts, made your chest tighten with guilt.

Sam paused in front of the heavy oak door, his hand hovering over the handle. He glanced at you, his hazel eyes filled with a mixture of determination and dread. “You ready for this?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

You swallowed hard, nodding despite the uncertainty gnawing at your insides. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

With a deep breath, Sam pushed open the door, and you both stepped into the office. The room was dimly lit, the warm glow of a desk lamp casting long shadows across the walls lined with bookshelves crammed full of case files, old and new. The scent of leather and paper filled the air, a comforting reminder of the countless hours spent in this room, poring over case details with Bobby.

Behind the large, cluttered desk sat Director Bobby Singer. He was a grizzled man in his late fifties, his once-dark hair now streaked with gray, his blue eyes sharp and calculating. He looked up from the file he was reading, his gaze settling on the two of you with a mixture of weariness and concern. The lines on his face seemed deeper than you remembered, as if the weight of the world had finally begun to take its toll on him.

“Shut the door behind you,” Bobby said, his voice gravelly but not unkind. You did as he asked, the soft click of the door closing behind you punctuating the heavy silence that had settled over the room.

Bobby motioned to the two chairs in front of his desk. “Sit,” he said simply, and you and Sam both sank into the worn leather chairs, the familiar creak of the old furniture grounding you in the moment.

For a long moment, Bobby just stared at the two of you, his eyes flicking back and forth as if searching for something. You could tell he was trying to gauge the situation, to read between the lines of what you weren’t saying. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.

“I’m guessing you’re here to give me an update on Dean,” he said, his tone neutral but the underlying concern evident.

Sam cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “We’ve been working every lead we’ve got, Bobby, but…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening with frustration.

Bobby’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. “But you haven’t found him.”

It wasn’t a question, and the truth of it hung in the air like a lead weight.

You glanced at Sam, seeing the same frustration mirrored in his face. “We’ve been following every lead, Bobby,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s like he’s just… disappeared.”

Bobby’s expression didn’t change, but you could see the flicker of pain in his eyes, a pain that came from knowing just how far Dean had fallen. He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to wipe away the exhaustion that clung to him.

“Dammit,” Bobby muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you. He was silent for a moment, his mind clearly working through the implications of what you’d said. Finally, he looked back up at the two of you, his gaze sharp and focused.

“Tell me everything,” he said, his voice firm. “Every lead you’ve followed, every dead end. I need to know where we stand.”

You and Sam exchanged a quick glance before Sam nodded, leaning forward slightly as he began to recount the details of the investigation. “We started with his last known location,” Sam began, his voice steady despite the tension in his body. “After he escaped custody, we traced him to a safe house in Montana. But by the time we got there, he was already gone.”

Bobby nodded, listening intently, his eyes never leaving Sam’s face. “Any sign of where he went after that?”

Sam shook his head, his frustration evident. “Nothing concrete. We found some evidence that he’d been in contact with a few known associates—people we’ve had on our radar for a while. But none of them were willing to talk. It’s like they’re more afraid of Dean than they are of us.”

Bobby frowned, his fingers tapping absently on the edge of his desk. “That’s not surprising. Dean’s always been good at getting people to do what he wants. But this… This is different. He’s not just working with them, he’s controlling them.”

You nodded, the weight of Bobby’s words settling heavily in your chest. “We think he’s been planning this for a long time,” you said quietly. “He’s always been one step ahead of us, like he knew what we were going to do before we did it.”

Bobby’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he processed what you were saying. “And you think he’s working alone?”

The question hung in the air, and you could see the doubt in Sam’s eyes as he considered how to respond. “We’re not sure,” Sam admitted finally. “We know he’s been in contact with some high-level operatives, but we haven’t been able to confirm if he’s officially aligned with any groups. It’s possible he’s acting independently.”

Bobby’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze hardening. “If Dean’s gone rogue, that makes him even more dangerous. He knows our methods, our protocols. He can predict our every move.”

The room fell silent as the reality of the situation settled over you all. Dean wasn’t just another fugitive; he was one of your own, someone who knew the inner workings of the FBI better than anyone. And that made him a threat like no other.

Bobby leaned forward, his gaze piercing as he looked at you and Sam. “So what’s your plan? How do you intend to bring him in?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words. The truth was, you didn’t have a concrete plan. Every lead you’d followed had ended in a dead end, every attempt to track him down had been thwarted. And now, sitting here in Bobby’s office, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of hopelessness creeping in.

But before you could voice those doubts, Sam spoke up, his voice firm and resolute. “We’re going to keep looking,” he said, his jaw set in determination. “We’re not giving up, Bobby. We’ll find him. We have to.”

Bobby studied Sam for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded, a reluctant sigh escaping him. “I know you will, Sam. But you need to be careful. Dean’s not the same person you grew up with. He’s changed. And I don’t just mean because of what he’s done. He’s… different.”

The words sent a chill down your spine, and you couldn’t help but wonder just how much Dean had changed. How much of the man you’d known and loved was still in there, and how much had been lost to whatever darkness had taken hold of him.

“We’ll be careful,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “But we need to bring him in, Bobby. Before he does something we can’t undo.”

Bobby’s gaze softened slightly, a hint of the familiar warmth returning to his eyes. “I know you will,” he said, his voice gentle. “Just… don’t let this consume you. Either of you. Dean’s made his choices, and now you have to make yours.”

The words hung heavy in the air, a reminder that this wasn’t just about finding Dean; it was about protecting yourselves, about not losing sight of who you were in the process. And that was something you both needed to remember, no matter how difficult it might be.

The room fell silent again, the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on you. You could feel Sam’s tension beside you, his fists clenched in his lap as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. You wanted to reach out to him, to offer some kind of comfort, but you weren’t sure what to say. How could you comfort him when you felt just as lost as he did?

Bobby seemed to sense the tension between you, and he let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his graying hair. “Look, I know this is hard. It’s hard for all of us. But we’ll get through it. We always do.”

You nodded, grateful for the reassurance, even if you weren’t entirely sure you believed it. “Thank you, Bobby,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bobby waved off your thanks, his expression softening as he looked at you and Sam. “You’re family,” he said simply. “We take care of our own.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and you felt a lump forming in your throat. You wanted to believe that everything would be okay, that you’d find Dean and make things right. But as you left Bobby’s office, the reality of the situation settled over you once more.

Dean was out there, a threat to everyone you cared about, and you had no idea where to start looking next. All you could do was keep searching, keep fighting, and hope that somehow, you’d find a way to bring him back before it was too late.

The night had settled into an eerie silence, the kind that left you hyper-aware of every creak and groan of your house. Your bedroom was dimly lit by the soft glow of the lamp on your bedside table, casting long shadows across the walls. You’d been sitting on the edge of your bed for what felt like hours, your mind spinning, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. The revelation that Dean was the mole had shattered something inside you, leaving you feeling lost and hollow. You’d tried to focus on finding him, on stopping him, but every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was his face—the smirk that used to make your heart race, now twisted into something dangerous, something you didn’t recognize.

You knew you should be doing something—anything—but instead, you sat there, paralyzed by the weight of it all. Your hands trembled slightly as you ran them through your hair, the stress of the past few days catching up with you. How had it come to this? Dean, of all people, betraying you, betraying Sam, betraying everything you thought he stood for. You wanted to hate him, but the truth was, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Despite everything, you missed him. You missed the way he used to look at you, the way he could make you feel safe and alive all at once. But now, all of that felt like a distant memory, tainted by the knowledge of what he’d done.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the door creak open. It wasn’t until you felt a presence in the room—familiar, yet unsettling—that you realized you weren’t alone. Your heart leapt into your throat, and you whipped around, eyes widening in disbelief as you saw him standing there, just inside the doorway.

“Dean…” The word came out as a whisper, a mix of shock and something else you couldn’t quite place.

He looked different. The Dean you knew was always intense, but this—this was something else. His green eyes were hard, almost cold, and there was a darkness in them that made your blood run cold. He was dressed in his usual jeans and leather jacket, but there was an edge to him now, a dangerous confidence that had always been there, but was now fully unleashed.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stand up from the bed, though your legs felt like they might give out at any moment. “What are you doing here?” you demanded, your voice stronger than you felt. “How did you even get in?”

Dean just stared at you for a long moment, his gaze piercing, before he finally spoke. “You left the window unlocked.” His voice was low, rough, the sound of it sending a shiver down your spine. There was something different in his tone—an almost predatory calm that both terrified and thrilled you.

You took a step back, instinctively putting some distance between you. “You need to leave, Dean. Right now. You—” The words caught in your throat. “You shouldn’t be here.”

A slow, humorless smile spread across his face as he took a step forward, closing the gap you’d tried to create. “I shouldn’t be here?” he echoed, his voice dripping with irony. “I think you know that’s not gonna happen, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The term of endearment used to make you feel warm, cared for. Now, it felt like a weapon, a reminder of what he used to be and what he’d become. You shook your head, trying to clear the fog in your mind. “Dean, please… We can talk about this, but not here. Not like this.”

His smile faltered slightly, a flash of something—anger? hurt?—flickering across his face before it was gone, replaced by that cold, hard mask. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said flatly. “You and Sam think you can just hunt me down, lock me up? You really think I’d let that happen?”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, the stark reality of what he was saying, what he was willing to do, finally sinking in. “I don’t want to lock you up,” you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. “I just want to understand why, Dean. Why are you doing this? Why did you betray us?”

For a moment, just a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of the old Dean, the man you loved, behind those cold eyes. But it was gone almost as soon as it appeared, replaced by something darker, more resolute.

“It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” you shot back, your desperation starting to bleed through. “I deserve to know, Dean. After everything we’ve been through, I deserve to know why.”

He stared at you, his jaw clenched, and for a moment you thought he might actually tell you, that he might break down the wall he’d built around himself. But then his expression hardened, and he took another step toward you, close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“Enough with the questions,” he growled, his voice a rough whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re not here to understand. You’re here because you can’t stay away.”

The accusation stung because deep down, you knew there was some truth to it. Despite everything, despite knowing what he’d done, you couldn’t stop wanting him. It was like a sickness, an addiction you couldn’t shake.

“No,” you whispered, trying to convince yourself as much as him. “I’m here because I wanted to make you see reason. To remind you of who you are.”

Dean’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist in a grip that was firm but not painful. It was enough to make your heart race, enough to make you acutely aware of how close he was, how easily he could overpower you if he wanted to.

“Who I am?” he echoed, his voice low and dangerous. “I know exactly who I am. And I think you do too.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “You can try to resist all you want, but we both know how this ends.”

You wanted to argue, wanted to push him away, but your body betrayed you. The feel of his breath against your skin, the heat of his body so close to yours, it was all too much. Despite everything, despite knowing that you should hate him, you couldn’t stop the way your body reacted to him.

“Dean, please…” The words came out as a whisper, but you weren’t even sure what you were asking for. For him to stop? For him to keep going? You didn’t know anymore. All you knew was that you were lost, caught between wanting him and knowing you shouldn’t.

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. His other hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a gesture that was surprisingly tender, considering the darkness in his eyes. The touch made you shiver, your resolve crumbling even further.

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his for any sign of the man you used to know. “Why are you doing this?” you asked again, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Why, Dean?”

For a moment, just a moment, you thought you saw something break in his expression, something that looked like guilt or regret. But then it was gone, replaced by that same cold, steely resolve.

“Because this is who I am now,” he said, his voice rough, almost resigned. “And you’re either with me or against me.”

The words hit you like a blow, the finality of them making your heart ache. You wanted to scream, to cry, to beg him to come back to you, but you knew it was useless. This was who he was now, and nothing you said would change that.

But even as you thought that, even as you felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes, you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into him, from letting him pull you closer until your bodies were pressed together. The feel of him against you, the heat and strength of him, it was intoxicating, and you hated yourself for wanting it, for needing it.

“Dean…” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He didn’t say anything, just tightened his grip on you, his hand sliding from your face down to your neck, his fingers curling around the back of your head as he tilted your face up to his. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you, and despite everything, you wanted him to. You wanted to lose yourself in him, to forget everything for just a little while.

But instead, he just stared down at you, his gaze intense, almost searching. “Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Tell me to walk away, and I will.”

The words hung in the air between you, a lifeline you weren’t sure you were strong enough to take. You knew you should tell him to stop, that you should tell him to leave and never come back. But you couldn’t. The truth was, you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want him to leave. Despite everything, despite knowing that you should hate him, you still wanted him.

You didn’t say anything, and after a moment, Dean’s expression hardened. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, almost to himself.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle or tender like the kisses you used to share. This was different. This was rough, demanding, almost desperate. It was like he was trying to claim you, to remind you who was in control. And maybe that was what you needed—maybe that was why you didn’t push him away.

You kissed him back, your hands fisting in his jacket as you pulled him closer, giving in to the need that had been gnawing at you since the moment he walked into the room. It was wrong, you knew that, but in that moment, you didn’t care. All you cared about was the way he made you feel, the way he could make you forget everything else.

Dean’s hands moved to your waist, his grip firm as he pushed you back toward the bed. You went willingly, your heart pounding in your chest as the back of your legs hit the mattress. He broke the kiss just long enough to push you down onto the bed, following you down, his body pressing you into the mattress as he claimed your lips again.

It was all happening so fast, and yet it felt like time had slowed down, every touch, every kiss searing itself into your memory. You knew this was a mistake, that you should stop him, but you couldn’t. You were too far gone, too lost in the feel of him, the taste of him. You’d been craving this, needing it, and now that it was happening, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop it.

Dean’s hands were everywhere—on your waist, your hips, sliding under your shirt to touch your bare skin. You gasped at the feel of his rough hands against your skin, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. It was like you were on fire, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

“Dean…” His name slipped from your lips, a plea, a confession. You didn’t even know what you were asking for anymore. All you knew was that you needed him, that you couldn’t let him go.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You arched into him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you tried to pull him closer, needing more, needing all of him. It was like a fever, a need so intense it consumed you, and you couldn’t think of anything else but him.

Dean’s hand slid up your thigh, pushing your shirt higher as he went. You gasped, your head falling back against the pillows as his lips found a sensitive spot on your neck, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. It was too much, and yet not enough. You needed more, and he knew it. He could sense it in the way you moved beneath him, in the way you clung to him.

“Is this what you want?” Dean’s voice was rough, almost mocking as he pulled back just enough to look down at you. His eyes were dark, filled with a dangerous intensity that both thrilled and terrified you.

You met his gaze, your breath coming in short gasps. You should say no. You should tell him to stop. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you found yourself nodding, your body betraying you once again.

A slow, almost triumphant smile spread across his face, and he leaned down, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. His hand slid higher, pushing your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought. His lips followed the path of his hands, leaving a trail of heat as he kissed his way down your chest, your stomach.

You were trembling now, your body alight with need and anticipation. Every touch, every kiss was like a brand, searing itself into your skin, your soul. You were losing yourself in him, in the feel of him, and you didn’t know if you’d ever be able to find your way back.

Dean’s hands were rough, his touch possessive as he moved over you, his lips finding every sensitive spot, his hands leaving marks that would bruise by morning. You gasped, moaned, begged for more, even as your mind screamed at you to stop, to remember who he was, what he’d done.

But it was too late. You were too far gone, too lost in the haze of desire and need. This was Dean, and despite everything, despite the betrayal, despite the lies, you couldn’t stop wanting him. You couldn’t stop loving him.

And so you gave in, letting him take you, letting him claim you, even though you knew it was wrong, even though you knew it would destroy you.

His lips latched onto your clit, sucking harshly as he threw your legs over his shoulders, taking it between his teeth for a moment before tracing his name with his tongue. Dean’s fingers came in to break you further, delving into your soaked pussy as he lapped up everything you had to offer until his lips and chin were glistening, but didn’t stop even then.

You didn’t know how long it lasted—minutes, hours, it all blurred together in a haze of heat and need. All you knew was that when it was over, when the storm had passed, you were left trembling, broken, your heart shattered into a million pieces as you came hard and fast, not given time to think or speak.

Dean was still there, his weight heavy on top of you, his breath ragged against your neck when he quickly pounced back up, whipping off his jeans and boxers, his leather jacket and shirt and entering you with one quick snap of his hips. You could feel his heart beating against your chest, strong and steady, a reminder that this wasn’t a dream anymore, that this was real.

You didn’t want it to be real. He’d leave again.

But he removed that thought from your head, pinning your hands above your head, thrusting so hard you’d probably feel it for a week. “So good, baby girl.” Dean growled against your neck, chuckling. “So desperate for me to fuck you raw. I’ll explain everything, I promise.” You couldn’t think, speak, not when he was stripping you of everything in that moment.

Breaking you down and building you back up again as something broken - like him - until he came and you did too a few sloppy thrusts later, Dean’s hard, unrecognisable body collapsing on top of yours like it used to,

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the silence in the room deafening. You didn’t know what to say, what to do. All you could do was lie there, trying to catch your breath, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Finally, Dean pulled away, rolling off you and onto his back. He didn’t say anything, didn’t look at you. He just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, his expression unreadable.

You turned your head to look at him, your heart aching at the sight of him. He looked so different now, so distant. The man you loved was still there, somewhere beneath the surface, but he was buried deep, hidden behind layers of anger and pain.

“Dean…” You didn’t know what you were going to say, didn’t know if there was anything left to say. But before you could finish, he cut you off.

“Don’t.” His voice was rough, cold, and it made you flinch. “Just… don’t.”

The words hit you like a slap in the face, the finality of them making your chest tighten. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to explain. He didn’t want to be saved.

And that hurt more than anything.

The following morning, you arrived at the FBI headquarters with an uneasy sense of anticipation. The memory of Dean's sudden reappearance in your life, his rough demeanor, and the fraught, emotional aftermath of that encounter left you feeling on edge. Your nerves were still raw, and the uncertainty of the situation made every step feel heavy, every sound magnified.

You and Sam headed straight to Bobby Singer’s office, where you knew you would receive an update on the ongoing investigation. The sense of urgency was palpable, and Sam’s expression was set in determined lines as he opened the door to Bobby’s office.

Bobby was already there, sitting behind his desk with a stack of files neatly arranged before him. His face was etched with concern, and the usual warmth of his expression was tempered by the seriousness of the situation. As you and Sam entered, Bobby glanced up, his gaze sweeping over you with a hint of the resolve he always carried.

“Morning,” Bobby said, his voice carrying the weariness of long hours spent working on a high-stakes case. “I’ve called a meeting. We’re going to need to think outside the box on this one.”

You exchanged a quick look with Sam, both of you wondering what Bobby had in mind. The weight of Dean’s betrayal had pushed you to the edge, and it seemed like the solution would involve something unconventional.

Bobby stood up, his demeanor taking on a more theatrical edge. “We’ve got a team coming together, one that’s going to work outside of the usual Bureau protocols. You’ll see what I mean.”

With a wave of his hand, Bobby began the introductions. It felt like the opening scene of a high-stakes action movie, each name and face meant to signal something important. You stood there, watching and waiting, as Bobby began.

“First up,” Bobby said, his voice taking on a dramatic tone, “we’ve got someone who’s not just a tech genius but also a force to be reckoned with. She’s the one who can hack through the toughest security systems and has a knack for getting things done. Ladies and gentlemen, Charlie Bradbury.”

The door to Bobby’s office opened with a flourish, and in walked Charlie Bradbury. She was a petite woman with an energetic presence, her short red hair styled into a messy bob that seemed to fit her vibrant personality. Her attire was a bit unconventional for an FBI meeting—a graphic tee layered under a plaid shirt, and jeans with sneakers. She gave a quick wave and a bright smile, her enthusiasm evident as she took her place in the room.

“Next,” Bobby continued, “we have Garth Fitzgerald IV. He’s got the smarts, the charm, and a level of resourcefulness that’s hard to match. Garth, why don’t you come on in?”

The door opened again, and Garth Fitzgerald IV strolled in. Garth had an easygoing manner about him, his long brown hair pulled into a casual ponytail. He wore a casual blazer over a graphic tee, and his demeanor was relaxed, almost too relaxed for the gravity of the situation. His bright blue eyes twinkled with a mix of intelligence and mischief, making it clear he was someone who could be counted on in a pinch.

“Now for someone with a bit more of a no-nonsense attitude,” Bobby said. “John Winchester, a Navy SEAL and Bureau veteran. He’s seen it all and survived it all. Let’s see him now.”

John Winchester entered the room with a solid, no-nonsense presence. He was tall and muscular, his uniform impeccably pressed, his hair cut short and neatly styled. His eyes were sharp and alert, constantly scanning the room with a practiced gaze. His stance was rigid, and there was an intensity about him that spoke of years spent in high-stress situations. Despite the seriousness, there was a quiet respect in his posture, indicating that he was here to get results.

“Dad.” Sam said almost breathlessly, getting a curt nod from John.

“Son.” He replied quietly.

“Coming up next,” Bobby said, with a hint of pride, “Agent Jack Kline. Young, but don’t let that fool you. He’s driven, sharp, and has a personal stake in this mission.”

The door swung open to reveal Jack Kline. Jack was in his mid-twenties, his youthful face marked by a determination that belied his age. He wore a perfectly tailored suit, his dark hair slicked back with a bit too much gel. There was an earnestness about him, a fire in his eyes that suggested he was ready to prove himself. He gave a quick nod as he took his place, his posture straight and attentive.

“Rufus Turner is up next,” Bobby said, his voice carrying a note of familiarity. “He’s a personal friend of mine, a man who’s been around the block and knows his way through the worst of situations.”

Rufus Turner ambled in with a relaxed air. He was an older man with a grizzled beard and a weathered face that told tales of a long life lived on the edge. His attire was practical and comfortable—a flannel shirt over a t-shirt and worn jeans. Despite his casual look, there was an air of quiet competence about him. He moved with the ease of someone who knew exactly how to handle himself in any situation.

“And finally,” Bobby said, with a hint of ceremony, “we have MI6 agent Mick Davies. Don’t let his British charm fool you. He’s a seasoned operative with a knack for strategy and an uncanny ability to get results.”

Mick Davies walked in with a smooth confidence. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his British accent evident as he gave a polite nod to everyone in the room. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his demeanor was polished and controlled, suggesting a refined sense of discipline and professionalism. He glanced around the room with a keen eye, taking in the group with an air of detached interest.

“Why did that feel too much like a movie?” Sam pointed out, extremely confused.

“Get with the times, idjit.” Bobby replied with a grimace.

You, Sam, and Bobby walked down the corridor toward the large conference room where the newly assembled team, unofficially dubbed the “suicide squad” by Bobby, was set to have its first meeting. The mood was a mix of trepidation and reluctant optimism. Each step you took echoed with the weight of the task ahead. You glanced at Sam, who looked as tense as you felt. He caught your eye and offered a small, reassuring smile.

“Ready for this?” Sam asked, his voice carrying a note of humor despite the underlying seriousness.

You shrugged, trying to mask your nervousness with a grin. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Bobby led the way, his demeanor a blend of determined authority and barely concealed exasperation. “Let’s just hope this motley crew can get their act together. We need results, and we need them fast.”

As you entered the conference room, the scene that greeted you was anything but what you had expected. The room, designed for high-stakes meetings and serious discussions, was currently a battleground of personalities. Papers were scattered across the large table, coffee cups and half-eaten snacks littered the surface, and a low murmur of voices competed with the sound of shuffling papers and the occasional burst of laughter.

Charlie was already there, surrounded by a mountain of tech gadgets and open laptops. She was energetically typing away on her keyboard, her eyes darting from one screen to another with frenetic energy. “Just give me a sec, I’m almost through with this encryption!” she called out without looking up.

Garth was sprawled comfortably in one of the chairs, his feet propped up on the table. He was engrossed in a large comic book, occasionally glancing up with a mischievous grin. “Hey, what’s up? Got any cool new cases for us?” he asked cheerfully, waving his comic book around.

John, standing at the window, was peering out with a focused intensity. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his posture rigid. He barely acknowledged the newcomers, his attention fixed on something only he seemed to see. His frown deepened as he muttered, “We better make sure our perimeter is secure. Can’t be too careful.”

Agent Kline, with his loosely tailored suit and too-gelled hair, was seated at the far end of the table, his gaze darting nervously between his notes and the door. He looked as if he was bracing himself for an incoming storm. “Is this where the briefing starts?” he asked, his accent tinged with a hint of nervous politeness.

Rufus Turner, the weathered veteran, was sitting back in his chair with a cup of coffee in hand. He was wearing a bemused expression as he watched the chaos unfold. “Well, ain’t this a sight,” he said, taking a leisurely sip of his coffee. “Looks like we got ourselves a real circus here.”

Mick was the last to arrive, his sharp suit and neatly combed hair making him stand out even more in the already chaotic room. He entered with a smooth, confident stride, giving everyone a polite nod before taking a seat. “Morning, everyone. I trust we’re all ready to tackle the matter at hand?” he said, his British accent crisp and precise.

Bobby took a deep breath, his face a mask of restrained frustration. “Alright, everyone, let’s get this show on the road. We have a lot to cover, and we need to get organized.”

Charlie, still engrossed in her work, muttered, “Just a minute, Bobby. I’m almost through with decrypting this file. We’re going to need it.”

Garth looked up from his comic book with a raised eyebrow. “Decrypting? Sounds like a real party. How about we get some snacks and make this meeting more fun?”

John, still fixated on the window, grunted in agreement. “We don’t have time for snacks. We need to focus.”

Jack shifted in his seat, trying to catch Bobby’s attention. “Director Singer, if we could have a clear agenda, it might help streamline things.”

Rufus snorted into his coffee. “Streamline things? We haven’t even started, and it’s already a mess.”

Mick, attempting to bring some semblance of order, cleared his throat. “Perhaps a more structured approach would be beneficial. Let’s lay out our objectives clearly.”

Bobby’s patience was visibly wearing thin. He tapped the table with his knuckles, trying to regain control of the meeting. “Alright, everyone, listen up. We’ve got a lot of talent in this room, but we need to focus. The situation is critical, and we can’t afford any more delays. We need to find Dean and resolve this crisis.”

Charlie finally looked up from her screens, her face alight with excitement. “Got it! I’ve got some preliminary data here. We can start by narrowing down his recent contacts.”

Garth folded his comic book with a flourish and sat up straight. “Alright, let’s get to it then. I’m ready for action.”

John let out a huff and moved away from the window. “Fine, but we better not waste time. We need to be meticulous.”

Jack adjusted his suit and glanced at his notes. “I’ll handle the documentation and ensure everything is properly logged. Efficiency is key.”

Rufus shook his head, his expression a mix of amusement and skepticism. “Well, this oughta be interesting.”

Mick straightened in his chair, his demeanor all business. “Let’s proceed with a detailed strategy. We need to ensure that all angles are covered.”

As the team began to settle into their roles, the chaos seemed to simmer down a bit, replaced by a more focused, if still somewhat disorganized, energy. You and Sam exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the irony of the situation. The team was indeed a collection of diverse and conflicting personalities, but maybe, just maybe, that was what would make them effective.

Sam leaned closer and whispered, “Do you think this is going to work?”

You shrugged, a wry smile playing on your lips. “They said so much nonsense in five minutes that I’m not quite sure.”

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[themightykatz]

"Missing"

Dogday stirred awake, blinking the sleep from his eyes feeling drowsy and tired.

But as he looked around the room, he suddenly realized that Angel/Hope was no longer in his lap or in bed next to him. A pang of disappointment and worry washed over him as he sat up, his gaze darting to the empty spot where she had been.

Dogday: "Angel...?"

He said to himself. Minutes later, Dogday immediately sat up straight as he stood up and ran out of the room. Dogday barged into the living room, slightly out of breath from running down the stairs so quickly. His heart was beating fast as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He must have looked worried and frantic, as Mommy longlegs, Poppy, and Kissy Missy all immediately turned to look at him, their expressions a mix of surprise and concern.

Poppy: "Whoa, Dogday, what's the hurry? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

Dogday tried to catch his breath, feeling a bit embarrassed at his rushed entrance but still too worried to notice or care.

Dogday: "I-uh... I can't find Angel. I woke up this morning and she was gone."

He spoke quickly, his voice betraying his concern for his wife's whereabouts. The words caused a ripple of surprise and worry among the others.

Poppy: "What do you mean she's gone? She's not in her room or the bed? Do you think she might gone out for a walk or something?.."

Dogday shook his head, feeling a pang of frustration mixed with worry. He started pacing back and forth as he spoke

Dogday: "No, she wasn't in her room. I checked everywhere! I don't think she would have gone for a walk this early without telling me. I'm worried something might have happened to her."

His eyes darted around the room, as if expecting Angel to suddenly appear.

Mommy longlegs: "Oh dear. She always goes missing, we have to find her again.."

Mommy longlegs placed a comforting hand on Dogday's shoulder, sensing his mounting anxiety.

Mommy longlegs: "Don't worry, Dogday. We'll help you look for her. She can't have gone far."

Poppy nodded in agreement, her expression determined. Kissy Missy joined in as well, a look of concern on her face.

Poppy: "We'll check in the entire forest if we have to. Just for Hope!"

————————————————————————————————

Hours passed as the search continued. They scoured every inch of the forest, calling Angel's/Hope's name until their voices were hoarse. They checked every hiding spot, nook, and cranny, but there was no sign of Angel/Hope anywhere. The once hopeful and determined expressions on their faces slowly morphed into worry and despair.

Dogday: "This is impossible... where could she be? We've searched everywhere!.."

Mommy longlegs looked pale and anxious, gripping her spider legs nervously. Poppy and Kissy Missy stood nearby, their expressions solemn.

Mommy longlegs: “We've searched everywhere... I just don’t understand. Where could she have gone?”

Poppy: “Is it possible that she’s been kidnapped or something? I just don't understand how she could have vanished into thin air..."

Kissy Missy looks slightly worried as well.

Dogday: “What are we going to do? We can't just give up... we have to find her!”

————————————————————————————————

The group rushed into Angel's/Hope's room (again) and into the bathroom, only to find Angel/Hope sitting in a bathtub full of bubbles, completely undisturbed and relaxed. The door had broken open, but luckily the bubbles and the water obscured her form from view. All of them stood there in shock, their eyes wide and jaws dropped as they all stared at her in complete disbelief.

But Dogday's reaction was different. He stood there, blushing furiously as he tried to avert his gaze from his wife's nude form hidden beneath the bubbles.

. . . . . . . .

Angel/Hope: ........You guys owe me a new door.

The others stood there, still speechless, their minds struggling to process the unexpected scene. Dogday was particularly flustered, his face still red as he tried to avert his gaze from Angel's form in the bathtub.

Dogday(flustered): “U-Uh... yeah... we'll... buy you a new.. uh.. door. Sorry about that..”

. . . . . . . .

Angel/Hope: ........What are you guys so worried about..

Poppy, Kissy Missy, and Mommy longlegs finally snapped out of their stupor at the sound of Angel's voice.

Poppy: “Angel! We've been looking for you EVERYWHERE! We were worried sick about you! Where were you?”

Mommy longlegs: “We thought something bad had happened to you!”

Angel/Hope ....Oh no. Please don't tell me you searched everywhere except my bathroom.

The others exchanged sheepish glances, realizing that in their panic and worry, they had overlooked one important place: Angel's/Hope's bathroom.

Mommy longlegs: "...Well... the thought crossed our minds.. but we assumed you wouldn't be in here for hours...”

Poppy: “Yeah.. we didn't think you'd be taking a bath for so long...”

Angel/Hope: ..Oh please, I always take baths for hours, sometimes for the whole day.

The others looked at each other, realizing the logic in Angel's/Hope's statement. They all felt a mixture of foolishness and relief.

Mommy longlegs: “Oh... well... that makes sense... why didn't we think to check here sooner?”

Poppy: “Yeah, I guess we were just so worried that we didn't think of the obvious place...”

Dogday was still trying to hide his embarrassment, his face still slightly pink from seeing her in the bathtub.

Angel/Hope: ....But, you guys owe me a new door.

The others all nodded guiltily, still feeling a bit sheepish about breaking down the door.

Poppy: “Yeah, yeah, we know. We'll get you a new door. No problem.”

Mommy longlegs chimed in with an apologetic smile.

Mommy longlegs: “Sorry about that, Hope. We were just so worried about you… We got carried away in our worry and accidentally broke down the door. We didn't mean to ruin your privacy, dear.”

Dogday finally managed to compose himself enough to speak up, still feeling a bit flustered.

Dogday: “Yeah... sorry about that. We'll replace the door as soon as we can. And... um... you know, we thought something bad might have happened. That's why we were looking for you.”

Angel/Hope shifted awkwardly. Why are they just standing there watching her..

Angel/Hope: ....Can you guys.. not watch me in a bathtub..

The others seemed to snap out of their stupor and quickly averted their gazes, realizing they had been staring at Angel/Hope in the bathtub for a little too long. They each mumbled apologies and excuses, embarrassed by their own behavior.

Poppy: “Sorry sorry, we didn't mean to stare.. we were just so relieved to see you're alright that we forgot ourselves for a moment...”

Mommy longlegs: “O-Of course, we'll give you some privacy now... sorry again, dear.”

Dogday was the last to look away, his face still flushed with embarrassment and a hint of lingering attraction. He reluctantly tore his gaze away from her and averted his eyes.

Dogday: “Yeah.. right.. sorry, Angel. We'll leave you to your bath now.”

As the others started to leave the bathroom, Dogday couldn't help but take one last, quick peek at Angel/Hope before he was suddenly pulled away by Mommy longlegs's spider arms.

Dogday(sheepishly): “Hey, let me go-“

He tried to wiggle out of Mommy longlegs's grip, but her spider arms were firmly holding him in place and physically preventing him from looking back.

Mommy longlegs: “No, bad Dogday, no looking at Angel or Hope while she's having her bath.”

Dogday pouted, feeling like a reprimanded child. He stopped resisting and let Mommy longlegs guide him away from the bathroom, feeling a bit frustrated that he couldn't get another glimpse of his beautiful wife.

Dogday: "Fine..."

—————————————————————————————————————————————————

Welp, that's it. Hope this doesn't flop, I've spend hours writing this hehe😅 Angel/Hope is my oc btw.