#that's the key to my feels vault

[arthursfuckinghat]

"I was gonna say you're like a son to me.. but you're more than that."

"It ain't that complicated!"

How quickly that shoulder pat of comfort turned into a condescending one.

[definitelyjunehomestuck]

once again minecraft fans be mad for all the wrong reasons

[kiss-inthekitchen]

pairing: spencer reid x reader

set sometime in early s2; you get stuck sharing a room with your favorite boy genius who absolutely cannot know that you have feelings for him. and also, there’s only one bed. fluff, f!reader (i think there's only two usages of gender markers)

word count: 4.7k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3. i'm thinking i'll do more of these, i've got a few spencer fics in the vault and it was fun to rework this and see how my style has changed :)

You shivered against the cold desert air. Twirling a keyring around your finger, you headed for the door marked 3. You were exhausted from the day and so, so ready to collapse into bed as soon as you got inside your room. 

You turned the key in the lock while Spencer waited behind you. It was late, and you and the team had pulled into a motel for the night, having been dragged out to a tiny rural town by the unsub after days of tracking him through surrounding areas. He’d been apprehended, finally, and handed over to local police around midnight. You all had decided it best to spend the night before driving back into town in the morning for take off. 

So here you were, at one of those single story motels that still used actual keys instead of key cards. Given the time of night, you knew vacancies would be scarce, so you’d already expected to have to double up on rooms. Gideon had stayed behind at Quantico, leaving Hotch and Morgan in one room and JJ and Prentiss in another, with you and Spencer sharing the last room. You’d hung back while JJ got everything figured out with the concierge (who was just a bored looking kid posted at the desk), and then she’d passed you your key with its little keyring attachment listing the room number and you all bade each other goodnight.

You’d been on the team nearly a year already, but you were still the rookie compared to everyone else. Even Spence had two years on you. But seeing as you two were the youngest, and the least inclined toward the more physical parts of your job– the chasing, tackling, firing your weapon parts– you were paired off with him more often than not. 

You weren’t complaining. You’d come to know Spencer pretty well, and you didn’t feel much apprehension at the thought of sharing a room with him for one night. 

That is, until you opened the door. 

“Oh,” you said involuntarily.  

"There's only one bed,” Spencer said. 

“Sure looks that way.” 

"At least it's a queen?" 

There was a brief pause before you both started speaking at the same time. 

"Maybe we can go back to the concierge–" Spencer began. 

"I mean, I guess I don't really–" 

"–although, JJ did say we got the last–" 

"–mind as long as you–" 

You cut yourself off this time. It’s not like there was another good option, unless one of you wanted to sleep in the car. "This is fine?" it came out as a question rather than a statement. 

"I think so? I wouldn't want to– to make you uncomfortable or anything."

"This is fine," you repeated, more sure of yourself this time. “And you don’t make me uncomfortable.”  

It was only kind of a lie. You trusted Spencer with your life, of course. But he also made you nervous. He was sweet, kind, always seeming genuinely interested in anything you had to say. And of course, anyone could see that he was attractive. You were developing feelings for him, and in a job where your coworkers and your crush himself were all adept at reading people, it really wasn’t a good position for you to be in. You just hoped Spencer was as oblivious with women as Derek made him out to be. 

"We should get out of the doorway," Spencer suggested, and you realized you'd been standing in the threshold this whole time.

"Right."

The two of you walked in, Spencer closing and locking the door behind you. It was a modest room in a tiny town; your standard ugly-patterned, faded bedspread draped over the queen bed in the center, a window looking out into the parking lot, and a dresser that didn’t even have a TV on top of it. You headed straight for the bed, sitting on the edge and removing your shoes while Spencer stood by with his hands in his pockets.

"You know, if it's a problem I can sleep on the cou– uh, the chair," Spencer offered, looking back mid-sentence and realizing that the only additional furniture this motel offered was one rigid looking armchair by the window. 

"No, you're not doing that."

"What?" he asked, taken aback by the quickness of your response.

"You're not sleeping in that chair. It looks horribly uncomfortable and I’m sure it’s never been cleaned, and I know how you’d feel about that.” 

Spencer grimaced, not having thought about that particular detail. “Yeah, but, I mean… I’d do it for you.” 

God, why did he have to say stuff like that? Like you were something special. And why now, when you were stuck in the same room with him until morning? It probably didn’t even mean the same thing to him as it meant to you. He was one of the most caring people you’d ever met. He’d probably say that to any one of you on the team. 

Or maybe sleeping in a chair meant nothing to him at all. Maybe he actually didn’t want to share the bed with you and that’s why he was trying so hard to avoid it. 

Ugh. You just wanted this day to be over. It was late, the case had been a week long, and now you were probably in for a fun night of overthinking and second guessing when you’d been expecting silence and easy, dreamless sleep. 

Okay, maybe that last part was never really an option, but still. 

“Look,” you sighed, “I know this isn't an ideal situation but there's a perfectly good bed here, so let’s just share it. If you’re okay with that. It's just one night and tomorrow we'll be back home and nobody has to know about it."

You had to fight from squeezing your eyes shut in regret. You wished that had come out differently. You chanced a look at Spencer, realizing that you’d been staring down at the faded carpet pattern while you spoke. 

The look on his face was one you hadn’t seen before, and you almost couldn't place it. He seemed sort of disappointed. Disappointed that he had to share a bed with you? Or that you'd made it sound like you didn't want to share a bed with him? Nope, you could not go down that road tonight. You shook your head once as if it would clear the thoughts from your tired mind. 

“I’m okay with that," he said, casually enough that you could almost convince yourself that you’d just imagined the look on his face before. "So, do you want the shower first, or...?" Spencer asked.

"No, I can wait, you go ahead," you said. You desperately needed the moment to yourself anyway.  

You started rifling through your bag for pajamas, toiletries, and your charger as an excuse to look busy while Spencer made his way into the bathroom with his things. As soon as the door closed behind him, you flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it might hold all the answers. 

Spencer couldn't know about your feelings. For one thing, you were pretty sure there was a rule against dating your colleagues in the BAU. If not, there probably should be. You were such a close knit team, and if anything went wrong… you couldn’t imagine how difficult that would be. But then, the evil and uncooperative part of you also couldn’t help but think that things might go right. 

From the beginning of your time at the BAU, you’d been drawn to Spencer. It just kind of made sense. You’d gotten through school at an accelerated pace– though not as quickly as him, the man was on another fucking level when it came to academics– and you were one of the only people who found his fact dropping actually interesting, often asking him follow up questions. He’d looked adorably shocked the first few times you’d done that. 

He listened intently to your passionate rants about your favorite films and tv shows, even though he hadn’t seen any of them. When the two of you had discovered a shared interest in mythology and folklore, Hotch nearly had to separate you so you would actually get some work done. It was like you were a kid in school again, and you might’ve been embarrassed if you didn’t find it so funny, if you weren’t so giddy at the idea of a friendship that could make you feel like a kid again. 

Spencer understood you in a way that other people didn’t, laughing at your jokes even when they didn’t land for anybody else. When people interrupted or spoke over you, he always paid attention, and in situations where you were trying to add details to the profile he’d bring the conversation back around to you. 

Throughout your life you’d learned– through painstaking trial and error– to fit in pretty well in most any group you found yourself in, but you’d always considered yourself to be a little weird. A little too different. But when you were with Spencer, you felt like you didn’t have to try so hard. You could both be a little different, together. 

Spencer opened the bathroom door then, startling you. You’d been so lost in thought you hadn’t even noticed the water turn off. You looked over to see him wearing a loose white t-shirt and pajama pants, his hair still damp. And now you knew what Spencer looked like fresh out of a shower. And of course it was endearing as hell. 

“If that’s how you’re planning to sleep,” Spencer began, referencing how you were laid out in the dead center of the bed, your arms fully outstretched and hands hanging off the mattress, “then I think we might have a slight problem after all.”  

You walked out of the bathroom a short while later, dressed in your usual sleepwear of shorts and an oversized shirt. You’d put your hair up in a bun to protect it while you showered, and now it hung loose around your shoulders. You simultaneously wished your outfit was cuter and uglier; knowing your giant t-shirt wasn’t flattering your figure while also feeling like you had too much skin exposed. Not that it mattered. You were just going to get some sleep and then wake up in the morning and head home. Everything would be back to normal. 

Spencer’s in bed already. He’d turned off the big light while you were showering, the lamps on either side of the bed casting him in a softer, warmer glow. He looked up from his book to find you standing there, and the soft, familiar look in his big brown eyes had you rooted to the spot. 

“Hey,” he said softly, patting the space next to him in invitation. 

You conceded, finding your legs again and sliding into bed beside him. “Hey.” 

He fidgeted with the pages of his book, ultimately shutting it closed on his index finger to mark the page. “So, uh, are we okay?” 

“Yeah, of course,” you answered genuinely, feeling bad that your internal struggle had manifested in a way that worried him. 

“Okay, cool,” he said. He paused long enough to let you explain if you wanted to, another invitation. You knew he wouldn’t push it if you didn’t offer something up. You wanted to give him an explanation, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. 

“Sorry,” you managed. 

“For what?” 

“I don’t know… acting weird, I guess. It’s just been a long day.” 

“Oh, well, you don’t need to be sorry about that. You’re always weird.” 

Your mouth dropped open as you looked at him. “Look who’s fucking talking,” you scoffed. Some of the tension dropped from your shoulders, glad he hadn’t questioned you further. 

“Language, please,” he held up a hand to stop you. “I’m delicate.” 

“Wha–?” you let out a surprised little laugh. “You’re an idiot!” 

“Yeah okay, tell that to my I–.” 

“Oh, my IQ of 187,” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. Even that was full of endearment. “God, you are so annoying.” 

“Hm. Y’know, this might be a long night for you. I’d hate to keep you up with my annoyingness.” 

“I feel like you could’ve come up with a better word than annoyingness, Mr. 187,” you tilted your head where it rested against the headboard, looking up at him. 

“Oh, she’s being a smartass now!” he split into a surprised grin, and you could swear your heart skipped a beat. 

“You just said ass.” 

“Wow. How quickly you’ve corrupted me.” 

“Right, of course. It’s my fault.” 

“I knew you’d agree.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” you laughed. 

Things felt a little bit more normal after that, joking around with Spencer like you normally did made the rest of the night feel less daunting. 

Shortly after that, the two of you agreed that you should get some sleep, each reaching over to turn out the light on your respective sides of the bed. 

You let yourself sink into your pillow, the exhaustion you had been feeling giving way to a hyper awareness of Reid’s body next to you. You were kept awake, completely overcome by the foot of space between you and Spencer; the consequences of crossing that space, the way it might feel, the curiosity over whether he was laying awake too, thinking the same thoughts as you. Even with that foot of space separating you, you could feel his body heat. You longed to move closer to him, to touch him, to let his warmth seep into you and lull you to sleep. 

But you didn’t, and you wouldn’t, because this was just an unfortunate booking mishap. It didn’t mean anything. Tomorrow it would be over, and you could more easily go back to hiding your feelings from everyone else and yourself. 

Eventually, exhaustion won out. 

You woke what could’ve been a few minutes or a few hours later, the sky still dark. You couldn’t tell what exactly had woken you up, only the sense that you’d moved, almost like you’d fallen. But fallen from what? 

You blinked in the dark, the street lamps in the parking lot providing enough residual light to keep the room from being pitch black. 

Reid was sitting up. He must’ve bolted upright, you thought. Had that been what moved you? Were you lying on him?! 

“Hey, you okay?” 

“Sorry. Just a nightmare,” he said as if it was nothing. “Sorry to wake you.” 

“What was it about?” you ignored his apologies, sitting up as well. 

“I don't really even remember,” he breathed, almost like it was funny. “Just having a physiological reaction to whatever it was, I guess.” 

You had nightmares too, of course. You all did. You hated remembering them, but you also hated the times when you woke up in the dark, dazed and inexplicably scared. Without thinking, you reached for his hand. 

He turned to look at you then. “I really didn't mean to wake you,” he reiterated. 

“I figured,” you smiled slightly. You noticed his breathing was just a bit too fast. You rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand, leaning over to rest your weight against his side, your head on his shoulder. His nervous system would regulate itself quicker this way. 

“You were on my pillow, by the way.” 

“What?” you ask, your head jerking back from him. 

“I totally called it. You rolled right into the center of the bed in your sleep. Total bed hog.” 

“Hey!” you protested, pulling your hand back from his in embarrassment. So you had been lying on top of him. Or at least really close to him. His hand chased after yours, finding you again. 

“That wasn’t me complaining about it.” 

“Oh,” was all you could think to say back. 

It was quiet for a minute. You let your head fall back onto Spencer’s shoulder, but your heart raced in your chest. 

“Can I ask you something?” he questioned, his tone becoming more serious. 

“Oh– of course,” you answered, your brow creasing. 

“What did you mean when you said ‘it’s not ideal’ and ‘nobody has to know about it’?” 

“Wh– I– Spencer, come on.” 

He didn’t give you an out this time. Just waited for an answer. 

“I don’t even really know,” you sighed.  

“I believe you’re being partially truthful about that.” 

“Don’t profile me.” 

“I’m not. I just know you.” 

You sighed. “You know, sometimes I hate that stupid memory of yours.” 

“I don’t need an eidetic memory to remember that. It was a weird thing to say, and it happened like four hours ago.” 

“You’re guesstimating. And it wasn’t that weird.” 

“Maybe not, but the way you said it was. And you’re avoiding my question.” 

You continued to avoid it, biting down on your bottom lip. 

“And you stuttered when I brought it up.” 

“I told you to stop profiling me.” 

This time, he just hummed in response. 

“And so what if I stuttered?” 

“Stuttering is usually more my thing. A nervousness thing.” 

Maybe this was actually your nightmare. Maybe you’d wake up soon and none of this would’ve been real, and you wouldn’t have had to explain to Spencer that the reason you’d had an attitude was because the situation tonight had made it harder to hide your feelings from him. Big feelings that became a lot harder to ignore when he was this close to you, still holding your hand, the mix of scents from his detergent and deodorant clouding your judgment. Of all the embarrassing scenarios that you could’ve imagined playing out tonight, this was very high up on the list. 

“I said ‘it’s not ideal’ because it’s not, just by definition. We were supposed to get a double room and we didn’t. Not ideal. And I said no one has to find out because I can already see Morgan having a field day with it and I know the exact expression that’ll be on his face–” 

“The eyebrows,” he nodded, lips pursed. 

“And then everyone else will get in on it and I just figured…” you sighed. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to deal with that.” 

“That all makes total sense.” 

“Good,” you breathed. Too relieved. 

“Now tell me the rest of it.” 

“God, Spencer–” you huffed out, frustrated. He knew you too well. 

You wanted to run. Maybe you could go sleep in the car after all. And then ignore Spencer for the rest of the day, and then the year, and your life, and– 

“Don’t make me say it,” you breathed. This had to be a dream. 

“But there is something to be said?” he questioned, his tone hushed, almost reverent. 

It was just vague enough. You could pretend it was nothing. 

“Yes.” 

You felt like you’d just blown your life up with one word. 

Spencer took a deep breath, your body cresting and falling with the movement of it. 

“You make me feel better about being myself,” he confessed.  

You shut your eyes. You had a constricting feeling in your throat suddenly, and the awful realization that you might cry. 

He spoke again, because you couldn’t. “I haven’t always felt good about it, you know? And then you joined the team, and, well– you changed a lot of things for me. And you’re beautiful, obviously, and I was scared to mess up what we have, because it’s special, I think–” 

“It is.” 

“–and then you started freaking out when you saw the bed,” he was smiling now, you could hear it, “and I thought, maybe it wouldn’t be so crazy… maybe I could make you feel that way too.” 

“You do. Of course you do. I feel like I can be my full self with you. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt like that before.” 

Spencer laughed, a little delirious giggle, and squeezed your hand in his. You’d managed to avoid crying, thankfully, and you grinned along with him, looking down at your joined hands as you squeezed him back. 

Things seemed to still for a beat, the two of you sitting with this moment and letting it stretch out. You still couldn’t really believe this was happening. You might have to tell Spencer to pinch you. 

“So what does that mean for us now?” you asked. 

“Well, for right now at least, I think it just means that we can go back to sleep without overthinking things into oblivion.” 

“I was not–”

“Okay, this time I am profiling you, and you’re lying,” he cut you off, his smile still evident.  

“Oh, this was such a mistake.”

He continued like you hadn’t spoken, laughing a little as he went. “I could practically hear it. It’s like, you know when a computer is trying to use too much processing power and the fan starts whirring really loud? Like that but just like right next to me, like tangible—“  

“Okay! Thank you so much, I actually totally got it, you can stop now.” 

He laughed, and your cheeks warmed. 

“For the record, I meant we could both stop overthinking.” Then he shifted a little, facing you a bit more. With the hand that wasn’t holding yours, he brushed a strand of hair from your face, a fake pout on his lips. “Sorry I make you nervous.” 

You cackled at that, if it was possible to cackle in hushed tones. “Oh, I bet you are. Besides, I know you like me now, so you’ve lost that card.” 

“Are you certain of that?” 

“Certain that you like me or certain that you can’t make me nervous?” 

“The latter. I do like you, if that was unclear.” 

Your heart sped up, contradicting you as you answered, “Then I’m certain you can’t make me nervous.” 

He titled your face up to his then, using his index finger underneath your chin to make you look at him. “You’re an awful liar.” 

You just shrugged, watching triumphantly as Spencer’s gaze fell to your lips. “It’s been working out pretty well for me so far.” 

“I guess it has,” he murmured, closing the distance between you and finally kissing you. 

After so many months of imagining (and berating yourself for imagining) what Spencer’s lips might feel like on yours, you weren’t disappointed. 

For once you didn’t have to think at all, the chemistry between you and him drowning out everything else. His hand fell to your waist, and yours moved to the curve of his jaw, pulling him closer as his mouth moved against yours. Your teeth grazed his bottom lip and he gasped, and your skin felt like it was lit up from the inside. 

You pulled away to breathe, and to process, and to try and stop your head from swimming. You were rewarded with the awestruck look in Spencer’s eyes as he opened them again. 

“Okay, was it just me, or–” 

“That was crazy,” you breathed.

“Crazy,” he agreed. 

“Spence?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t think we’re getting back to sleep tonight.” Your eyes widened at the implication of saying those words at that time. “Not, like, in the sex way, though,” you hurried to correct yourself. “I need like, 4-5 business days to process things first, and I– well, I just meant, like– you know?” 

Spencer was nodding at you even as his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “Can I still kiss you during those 4-5 business days?” 

“Oh, yeah,” you said, sounding breathless. 

“Cool,” he agreed. “You seem really nervous, by the way.” 

“Well, you kissed me.” 

“I did.”  

“How were you not nervous?” you breathed. 

“Oh, I was. Your reaction is making me feel a whole lot better about it though.” 

You scoffed half-heartedly. “I do so much for you.” 

“You do,” he replied earnestly, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We could lie back down, if you want. Like we were before I so rudely woke you up.” 

“Yeah, I’m super mad about that,” you joked. “Anyway, I was asleep for that, so you’ll have to show me what I was doing.” 

He seemed all too pleased to do so. “Okay, so you were basically like,” he leaned back against the pillows, pulling you down with him, moving his hand to the side of your head to guide you to the place where his shoulder met his chest, “Like that, and then your arm was over here,” he picked up your arm and guided it around his waist. 

“Oh god, that’s so embarrassing,” you said, realizing that he must’ve been awake when you’d done it. 

“Yeah, I know. Really terrible time for me.” 

“I can imagine. I can scoot back over to my side of the bed, just say the word.” 

“Don’t you dare,” he said, squeezing you closer. 

You trailed your fingers up and down his waist, feeling more content than you had in ages. 

“I can’t believe you’d suggest that I would have sex with you right after confessing my feelings. Like, take me to dinner first at least.” 

“Oh my god,” you half-exclaimed, half-laughed. You felt your cheeks heat up again, grateful it was still too dark in the room to be noticeable. “You’re right, I’m so sorry. How’s next Friday?” 

“Hmm, I don’t know. My work schedule is kind of unpredictable. I’ll have to get back to you.” 

“You’re such an ass.” 

A few short hours later, you were back on the jet with the rest of the team. You were lying on the couch while Spencer sat in a seat one row up and across from you, both to avoid suspicion and so you could try to catch up on sleep. He sat facing away from you, but with the angle you were at you could still see one side of his face if you tilted your head up. 

You were just beginning to fade when your phone buzzed next to you. 

Spencer: I have to tell you something, coworker to coworker. 

You looked up to see him blank faced, looking down at the book in his right hand, holding his phone in the left. 

You text back: okay? 

Spencer: My crush asked me out last night. 

You’re exceptionally glad no one was sitting close enough to see you. Spencer had caught you off guard, and you felt an infatuated grin spreading across your face. 

You: what did u say? 

Spencer: Wanted to get your opinion first. 

You: i think u should say yes, obviously. 

Spencer: Idk, I’m kinda nervous. I think she’s trying to jump me on the first date.

You just barely managed to refrain from laughing out loud. You looked up at Spencer again, and he’s looking at his phone as if it contained nothing more than a weather report. You’re astounded. 

You: one could argue that technically you’ve already slept together, so there’s less to be nervous abt

You saw his eyebrows raise just slightly. Success. 

Spencer: You’re trouble, you know that? See you Friday night

You: i promise i won’t try to jump you 

Spencer: Oh

Spencer: I fear I may have shot myself in the foot here

You: i wouldn’t worry about it too much

Spencer: That’s rich coming from you 

You rolled your eyes even though he couldn't see you. 

You: whatever. wear something sexy ;) 

You heard him blow air out of his nose, an almost laugh. 

“Something funny?” you heard Derek ask. 

Shit. 

“This book contains a historical inaccuracy that was proven incorrect eight years before its publishing date,” Spencer replied without missing a beat. 

Unbelievable.

You: you’re unhinged :*

Spencer: Go to sleep already, would you? 

You: coworker to coworker? my crush keeps interrupting my beauty sleep 

Spencer: He’s probably worried about the worldwide implications of you becoming any more beautiful 

You: i guess that’s why the universe gave you insomnia :( too pretty 

Spencer: Stop flirting with me

You: bc you’re too delicate?? 

Spencer: Yes 

You snapped your phone shut, feeling dazed. You watched the clouds go by in the window across from you, and you couldn’t help letting your gaze slide over to Spencer. He’d put his phone down as well, concentrating on his book. Or pretending to concentrate. He was turning the pages much too slowly for his actual pace. 

You: you have got to do a better job of fake reading than that

You heard a page turn. 

You looked up again to see the ghost of a smile threatening the corner of his mouth. 

This was going to be fun. And also, you were so screwed. 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

june 2024 octa + 4koma manga updates

As a reminder, no Episode of Savanaclaw manga chapter this month ^^ And without further ado, some of the highlights (in my opinion) of the latest manga updates:

This month's cover page illustration features Yuuta and Grim marveling over a chess board (since at this point in the story they're camping out in Savanaclaw). If you look closely, each of the pieces on the chessboard represent the relevant TWST characters; there are two card soldiers (presumably one for Ace and one for Deuce), a wolf for Jack, a hyena for Ruggie, and a lion for Leona on the "white" side. On the opposing "black" side (fitting, since Azul will OB soon) are two eel pieces for the twins and one octopus piece for Azul.

We continue the adorable overly flattering Ace from last month's chapter! Sad to say that I, too, would be completely fooled by this act-- asbfalebqejdqo The older merguard is also very cute and enthusiastic. I love that the manga can give faceless NPCs and mobs actual eyes. It grants them a lot more personality and soul! We continue the adorable overly flattering Ace from last month's chapter! Sad to say that I, too, would be completely fooled by this act-- asbfalebqejdqo The older merguard is also very cute and enthusiastic. I love that the manga can give faceless NPCs and mobs actual eyes. It grants them a lot more personality and soul!

HECK YEAH, IT'S TWEELS tERRORISM TIME BBABY 🤡 Jade and Floyd got sooo many good shots this chapter????? Love that the second page above shows us just how long Floyd is + how the two genuinely delight in scaring our crew (RIP Ace, he looks so close to death's door when he seeks Jade and Floyd peeking at him).

These panels paint the picture of the chase and fight being very frantic for our crew, but really being a chill game to the Leech brothers. They definitely have the upper hand this whole time, and the art helps to convey that feeling!

(Side note: that face Deuce makes with the pinched mouth is also top tier 👌)

So this chapter is the one where Leona swipes the keys to Azul's vault and robs him of all the golden contracts. This results in many, MANY distressed, panicked, and/or desperate expressions from Azul... all of which are soooo delicious <3 There's a ton more than what I've included here (I picked some of my faves), I just couldn't include them all because of Tumblr post image limits.

THE SMUGZUL LAUGH?????? ?? ??? ?? ?????? ? HIS ANSWER TO THE OJOUSAMA LAUGH

Featuring: out-of-shape nerd (relatable) Azul fans fr feasting this update 🙏

RUGGIIIIIIE 🥰 He makes a lot of :3 faces that are just great!!

ANOTHER THING THAT CAUGHT MY ATTENTION WAS THE SHEER AMOUNT OF LEONA SMUG IN THIS CHAPTER I MEAN SEEING LEONA SMUG MAKES ME GRIT MY TEETH AND WANNA KNOCK HIM DOWN A PEG BUT WOW IS HE PRETTY LIKE THIS AUVYFB32T73RANfhbabfobiqrBI/.L;,'KJM;N GGRRRRRRRRRRRRRR I HAT EYOU KINHSCHPLAR I HATE YOU SO MUCH i'm gONA PUNCHHF YOU IN YOUR STUPID SLUTTY ,.,NAFCLAVICLE

anyway Anyway ANYWAY!!!!!! Azul is so close to snapping now, boys :)))) Soon... SOON, OB AZUL AND CHILD!OCTAVINELLE IN HIS FLASHBACK...

Now for 4koma news! This month features a comic about Epel playing Magift/Spelldrive and another comic about Jamil cooking curry.

My favorite segment from the Epel comic! Grim is peak cuteness here, love that he curls into himself to brace for impact, INCLUDING THE FRIGGIN TAIL.

HLBQVUFOQVIYFA; This part made me think of my Gordon Ramsay in Twisted Wonderland series, specifically the fish-themed installment with Jamil and Deuce; in it, Jamil plots on making a seafood dish to serve to Azul as revenge for the events of book 4. In the Jamil 4koma this month, Jamil sees Octavinelle and then considers making a seafood/fish curry with that smug-ass face in the bottom-most panel 💀 That's all for now! See you next month for more~

[midnightsslut]

A Guide to Red - The Quintessential Taylor Swift Album

After the release of The Manuscript, the role of Red and Red (Taylor’s Version) in Taylor’s life and discography has been highly discussed. A lot of people have referred to it as her magnum opus and most formative album. I have decided to compile a condensed list of about a dozen key interviews, performances, speeches, posts, and videos from 2011 all the way until 2024 that illustrate the importance of this record for Taylor’s personal life and career. I’m putting the list under a cut because it got pretty long. You don’t have to go through all of these, obviously, but I would suggest at least one per era. The bolded ones are essential in my opinion.

Pre-Red - These interviews hint at Taylor’s emotional state at the time and thus the content that will be explored on the Red album

2011 The New Yorker profile

Taylor Swift reveals new album is all about heartbreak - Extra TV

Bonus: an article going through Taylor’s arm lyrics on the Speak Now World Tour, which she described as mood rings for any particular show

Lover diary entries from the making of Red (credit to @cabincreaking for the scans)

- All Too Well lyrics first draft (February 2011)

- Random bursts of happiness and anxiety during the Speak Now Tour (June 17, 2011)

- Red (September 8, 2011)

- Holy Ground (February 2012)

- Nothing New (March 2, 2012)

- Working with Max Martin (June 10, 2012)

Red era - Listen to the original sixteen songs on the Red album at this point.

Red announcement livestream + Q&A

Red prologue

2012 Rolling Stone interview

2012 The Guardian interview

2012 Billboard interview

2012 Esquire interview

Sirius XM Town Hall - an hourlong interview from the day Red came out

Good Morning America - this is the first mention of the ten-minute version of All Too Well

Red track-by-track descriptions

Random interview where she discusses the connection between writing Speak Now and Red

I Knew You Were Trouble music video

Diary entry about how love is fiction and she might move to New York after all (January 6, 2014)

Diary entry from Grammy night (January 25, 2014)

Red Tour London performance of All Too Well - any performance of this song from 2013-14 will work here, but this one has a pretty comprehensive speech

Final performance of All Too Well on the Red Tour - just listen to the speech here

Post-Red era - Over the course of these interviews, you’ll see her relationship to the album evolve.

Taylor’s description of Clean (skip to 11:18)

2014 BBC Live Lounge interview

1989 World Tour interview where she mentions thinking she’d never sell as many albums as she did with Red before 1989 came out

Clean speech - a lot of these will work, but these two best describe her relationship with the Red era and heartbreak in general

All Too Well (The 1989 World Tour live)

2015 GrammyPro interview

All Too Well Super Saturday Night performance

Reputation Tour All Too Well speech

Red into Daylight performance - 2019 City of Lover concert in Paris

Re-recordings era - at this point, listen to the red vault

2020 Rolling Stone podcast

Red (Taylor’s Version) prologue

2021 Saturday Night Live performance

All Too Well: The Short Film + Behind the Scenes

Seth Meyers interview

2022 Tribeca film talk OR TIFF (both are equally good. I have a slight preference for the former, but there are some interesting new details in the latter). You could also watch directors on directors from the same year as a bonus, but it’s less comprehensive.

2022 Graham Norton - How All Too Well (10 Minute Version) came about + how the re-recordings inspired Midnights

Also listen to Midnights

The Eras Tour

All Too Well speech (Glendale Night 2 & Atlanta Night 1) - any of the speeches from March and April 2023 will work, but these two really illustrate how she feels about this time in her life now and how the fans changed the Red album for her. Obviously credit to @cages-boxes-hunters-foxes for the transcripts!

Maroon first ever live performance (‘This is a song about something that happened a long time ago, but it took place in New York’)

Aaaand finally listen to The Tortured Poets Department, especially The Manuscript

This is a lot, but it’s worth it. Enjoy!

[gladiatorcunt]

patrick probably whines when you bounce on his cock.

cw: 18+ mdni, au of the ending where patrick wins (no infidelity btw, he and tashi never did anything), implied drug use, car sex mention, riding, afab reader, reader is naked/patrick is fully clothed, lowkey gross & nasty, breeding kink (i’m ovulating rn), unprotected p in v sex, slight degradation, unedited

You’re just so proud of your boyfriend, you can’t help but jump his bones immediately. You see Patrick running towards after his match, and you race to vault yourself into his arms. He laughs wholeheartedly and spins you around, partly happy because you seem to be so happy for him. He’s still in a state of shock, to be honest. Everything was leading up to Art cementing his place in his career, but Patrick had managed to beat him in the end. No one could believe it, Patrick’s hope had been almost completely gone by that point. But he did it, and maybe now he can leave behind the needles and scrimping pennies.

He still hasn’t processed anything, but your lips and giggles are too good to ignore. You gasp as he picks you up by gripping onto your thighs and hoisting your legs around his waist. You rock your clothed core against his abs for a second, in dire need of a little friction. Patrick makes the kiss messy, pushing more of his spit into the intense lip locking. He flicks away the string of saliva that connects your lips when he ducks back to look at you. You grin, eyes wide and cheeks blazing with heat. It’s a stupid decision, but you throw your body weight around to get Patrick to fall onto the bed with you.

“Fuck!” He shouts, darting his hands around the back of your head and digging his knees into the mattress so he doesn’t fall out. “Couldn’t have waited a little bit, are you a greedy whore all of a sudden?”

You shrug, “Maybe, but you’d like it if I was. Now come here, we have to celebrate.”

With that, you leg your legs fall open and put on your most convincing pout, beckoning your boyfriend to get a move on already. Seeing him sweat in those slutty shorts and hearing him grunt whenever he hit the ball really gets you going, something that you didn’t think was possible until you got an athlete boyfriend. It’s a competition to find out who can be the most insanely horny in the relationship at this point, and if Patrick ever got a hold of your diary, he’d agree that you win by a landslide.

Patrick latches onto your shoulders and spins to lie flat on his back with you on top of him. You adjust your position, jostling your hips until you’re positioned right over his hard bulge. You’re too busy getting lost in a flurry of clothes as you both kind of awkwardly undress on the bed, but eventually his pants are pulled down enough for his cock to spring free while you’re fully naked. You look like a porn star to him, teasingly swiveling your hips in the most seductive way possible.

He smirks and throws his arms behind his head, “I thought you were supposed to be my prize, what happened to making me feel like a winner?”

You bite you rlip, digging your nails into his pecs, “It’s not my fault you’re too keyed up to not cum immediately, savoring this is possible, you know?”

Patrick rolls his eyes and smiles, not picking a fight with you on that. Sometimes you like to get yourself worked up too, with his thick cock gliding in between your folds and mixing your juices together.

You lift your ass and throw a certain look towards him, and he tries not to be too smug as he wraps a large hand around the base of his hard cock. He holds the rigid length upright so all you have to do is hover over it and plop yourself right down on it. He doesn’t pump himself while he waits, he wanted to fuck before the match but you wouldn’t let him. You said it’d be better for him to have all this energy stored up.

You get restless and start to sink down on his cock, the stretch always takes some breath out of you but you were the one that decided to wait until now. Once he’s bottomed out, you’ve given up on teasing him until he breaks you entirely. You lift your hips until the tip of his dick catches on your hole and then slam down, starting off with a realsitically unattainable fast pace.

His fingers dig into the fat of your bouncing ass cheeks, “You’re inflating my ego too much, making me feel like a big shot getting fresh pussy in his hotel room.”

You moan, keeping eye contact as you fuck him into the mattress, “You- You are a big shot, babe. Shit- Just lie back and relax…”

The smell permeating in the room is already so pungent. Patrick’s natural musk intertwining with your own, if anyone else walked in they might faint, but to you two, you could cum from the scent of your sex by now. Being the same kind of freak in that regard brought you both so much closer if anything. You grind your pubes down against his, clenching on his dick on purpose. The friction is delicious for your clit, so you do it again.

He throws his head back, reaching up to curl one of his hands around your throat as you ride him, “Uh huh, that’s my dirty slut, so wet and tight for me.”

His words trail off into a squeaky whine as you speed up, truthfully losing stamina a bit but still determined to celebrate your boyfriend properly. You lean to press your sweaty tits right up against his own, and you whisper in his ear about this being a repeating occurrence.

“Maybe someday we’ll have a baby to put to bed first before we can do this, get them to wave at you from the stands and then pass them off to you when we’d see you after you win.” You lick the shell of his ear as you speed up, ignoring the embarrassing wet smacks of your slick ass against his hip bone. “Wouldn’t it be cute, me with a chubby baby on my hip that looks like you and another one already in my belly?”

“You’re a fuckin’ demon, i swear.” Patrick moans, giving you little whines here and there when you seem to really hit the spot. “Yeah, it’d be cute.”

What better way to celebrate than by having a baby?

He pulls you down by your neck to french kiss you, his tongue twisting around yours. The sheets are soaked by now and you don’t want to even imagine what the staff who have to clean his room will find. Random bits of fluid and the stench of sex heavy in the air, you’ll have to remember to leave some cash for a tip to ease your conscience.

You tighten your walls around him in short bursts until he’s clawing at your ass and smacking it extremely hard as he cums inside you. The stinging is a pleasant catalyst for your own orgasm soon after. You can’t wait to see how dirty you get his car seats.

[mcntsee]

— ★fic recs 'twenty four

Hi! This is a masterlist for all my fic recs. This list will continue to update as I read and find more things to add. Credits go to the respective authors!

↳ Please make sure to check out the warning on each fic. Some of them contain stuff that might be triggering for some readers!

keys;

🫐 — angst

☁️ — fluff

🎧 — nsfw

spencer reid recs;

— ★ series;

↳ trouble almost all my life by @januaryembrs [ongoing] ☁️🫐

summary: the one time the bau needs you + the four times you need them.

↳ twisted by @dreamwritesimagines [completed] 🫐☁️

summary: no one can outrun their past.

↳ pierced by @rynbutt [completed] ☁️🎧

summary: moving into a new apartment in a new city is stressful, what's even more stressful is when there's a fucking murder in the apartment across from yours... at least the fbi agent is cute.

↳ american teenager by @lanascinnamongirls [ongoing] ☁️🫐

summary: all it took was one case. one case and you were back in your small town in your home state of missouri.

↳ say that you love me by @none-of-your-bullshit [completed] 🫐☁️🎧

summary: what happens when an ex cia operative survives an attempted murder and is plucked straight out of georgetown by david rossi?

↳ do you believe me now by @nereidprinc3ss 🎧

— ★ stand alone:

↳ forgiven by @reiding-writing 🫐☁️

summary: you lied to him with good intentions, but when he finds out the truth he says something detrimental in the heat of the moment. After weeks of radio silence any chance of reconciliation is almost lost after you get critically injured in the field.

kaz brekker recs;

— ★ series;

nothing here yet…

— ★ stand alone:

↳ three taps by @happyyyandcrazyyy 🫐☁️

summary: kaz taps three times. it’s his way to say i love you, i care.

↳ dive into the waves below by @rubysunnday 🫐☁️

summary: pekka rollins's reign is over and it's time for the new king to take his place (or kaz settles into his new office and his beaten face needs some tending to)

↳ alright by @liberty-barnes 🫐☁️

summary: you’ve been flirting with kaz ever since you started working as his bartender. systematic rejection gets tiring after a while, but sometimes all you need is a good chat and a large bottle of vodka.

↳ bloody hands by @rubysunnday 🫐☁️

summary: kaz never feels the need to explain his entire plan. he knows that, whatever happens, it will inevitably go according to plan. but when his plan goes wrong and y/n is injured, kaz is suddenly forced to comprehend with the skeletally hand of death once again.

↳ initials by @triptuckers ☁️

summary: for as long as the crows can remember, you’ve worn a ring with initials on it, and they’ve been trying to figure out what they stand for ever since

↳ love story by @luna-writes-stuff ☁️

summary: kaz hasn’t known life without you at his side. he doesn’t see reason for you to abandon him any time soon and he isn’t planning on letting you go either.

↳ what do you want from me? by @rubysunnday 🫐☁️

↳ this is what happens by @fishley 🫐

summary: a look into the journey of kaz losing another person he loves and how it not only affects himslef, but everyone around him.

↳ dark days by @rubysunnday 🫐☁️

summary: mr and mrs rietveld. a locked vault and approximately ten minutes of air left. what could possibly go wrong.

↳ his star by @alpurrtwhizkersss 🫐☁️

summary: kaz saves reader from drowning

↳ dust and rubble by @writing-havoc 🫐☁️

summary: a plan goes wrong. you get injured. kaz tries to help-

↳ pocket watch by @writing-havoc ☁️

summary: after years of patient progression on his phobia, kaz finds the opportunity to reciprocate

↳ call me what you like by @sophierequests ☁️

summary: kaz and the reader have been married for quite some years now, unbeknownst to their friends. but what if a slip up causes this shared secret to come to the surface?

↳ sweetheart by @bloodwrittenballad ☁️

summary: kaz's reaction to you calling him sweetheart

↳ the way of the water by @bubbles-for-all-of-us 🫐☁️

summary: reader is a tidemaker and during a heist kaz falls into the water and she uses her powers to pull him out and helps him through a panic attack

simon "ghost" riley recs;

— ★ series;

nothing here yet…

— ★ stand alone:

↳ alive by @criminalamnesia 🫐

summary: simon loses you

↳ phantom touch by @ghostheartfelt 🫐☁️

summary: you and the 141 are deployed to austria with the intel of a drug boss known as rolmuth who is harboring romanian soldiers to the east coast to smuggle illegal mercenary personnel into america. what happens when a rapid snowstorm picks up and you are separated from the others then further captured and interrogated alongside your lieutenant?

alastor;

— ★ series;

↳ a doe in fall by @hazelfoureyes [ongoing] 🎧

summary: a burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. the chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

↳ painted smile by @worldofkuro [ongoing]🫐☁️

summary: you couldn't wait to meet new friends. what you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

↳ deer dolly by @ohproserpine ☁️🫐

summary: “wife?!” angel dust cut her off, jaw dropping. “freaky face is married?”

↳ a misconduct of love by @hurthermore [ongoing] 🫐(☁️)

summary: control was something you always severely lacked in. so when a radio host enters your life, and seems to yearn to not only posses you, but for you to posses him in turn, you indulge in a love affair with the man your husband introduced you to.

— ★ stand alone:

nothing here yet…

hobbie brown;

— ★ series;

nothing here yet…

— ★ stand alone:

↳ where's my love by @autumn-hiraeth 🫐

summary: hobie's cannon event

[hermajestytak]

Everyone talks about Pilot!Dib vs Show!Dib, but Pilot!Zim doesn't get enough love for how unique he is

So after my bizarrely thorough pilot research, here's my points on what makes Pilot!Zim unique! (aside from his pretty sakura pink eyes)

Also note that a lot of this info comes from the original Show Bible; the Pilot itself shows a lot of characterization but can only show so much

Firstly, writing aside, we gotta talk about performance. Whether it's Richard Horvitz, Billy West, or the ORIGINAL Mark Hamill lines that Nick is keeping somewhere in their vault, Pilot Zim is more low-key and mellow than his finalized version. Like sure, he's still evil and hammy (in more of a "cringe angry little kid on the playground" sort of way) and he still screams, but it's NOTHING compared to the balls to the walls "HAVE YOU THE BRAIN-WORMS?!" madness that is Show!Zim. So this is the only continuity where Zim is way more sane than Dib tbh

Pilot Zim is really only shown on the defense in his episode; even in the fight scene, he only really uses his mech's shield and armor. The show bible describes scenarios where he's antagonistic and tries to actually ruin human lives (in a very pathetic way), but for the most part he's an observing alien spy trying to defend himself from Dib's torment. Hell, it's said in the show bible that he only ruined Operation Impending Doom 1 because his short ass couldn't see over the control panel. The most evil thing he does is snatch one child's brain nonchalantly. This is in contrast to Show Zim being a PURE MENACE.

He's a gamer! And an angry one at that. In main series, Zim's Computer claims that his base has no video games.

Pilot!Zim's got way less constitution than Show!Zim. The show bible REALLY emphasizes Zim's allergies being a major reacurring part of the show while in the final series they're just an occasional danger. Pilot!Zim's body also reacts to Earth allergens much more violently than Show!Zim's.

Pilot!Zim and Pilot!GIR feel simultaneously more positive yet more distant. They just meet up, Zim gives a command, GIR does the thing he's asked, and Zim walks off smiling. Sure, GIR is still said to get distracted behind Zim's back or straight up make up information in the Show Bible, but he doesn't piss off Zim like he does in the show. It really makes them feel more like coworkers than, dare I say it, family.

PILOT ZIM JUST STOPS TO COMPLIMENT DIB'S WORK BEFORE BATTLE?? AND LIKE...DOESN'T TWIST IT OR ANYTHING HE'S JUST "WOW THAT THING YOU MADE IS COOL! YOU MUST HAVE WORKED HARD ON IT :)))" LIKE WHATTTT??!?! I know I always bring this ONE brief interaction up when talking about the pilot but I can't emphasize enough how BIZARRE of a thing this is for Zim to do.

Building on last point, Pilot Zim is much, much more capable of positive interactions with humans. He still wants to conquer them because by God, that's his job, but he doesn't seem to hate them????!?!?!? Like he actually tries twice to sit with human kids only to weird them out, the whole...Dib compliment thing[?!] and in the original rough draft, he actually THANKS Gaz for taking him home?! Like he's having a normal conversation?!! This is really odd for him since in the show, his undying hatred for humans is one of the things Zim is loudest about and he specifically chooses to sit alone at lunch.

Pilot Zim doesn't have the insane ego levels of Show Zim! He still refuses to acknowledges his flaws, is enthusiastic and proud of himself and his mission, and is VERY eager to please his Tallest, but it's very minor compared to Show Zim CONSTANTLY boasting about how AMAZING he is because HE IS ZIIIM!!!!

Speaking of, Pilot Zim lacks a LOT of Show Zim's iconic mannerisms!!! You know, the iconic big evil laughs, the "EH?!"s, the constant use of his own name, the occasional referring to himself in third person, Zim repeating himself, Zim not listening to anyone, ALL of those qualities are just straight up absent in Pilot Zim. Part of this is the less quirky writing and part of this was Richard Horvitz not getting to add his ✨️spark✨️ to the character yet.

Instead of just Richard Horvitz doing a straight up scream like "AAAAAAHH" Pilot Zim screeches with more of a "EEE! EEE! EEEE!" when panicked (which I think is adorable)

So next time y'all feel like drawing your maniac Pilot Dibs or alternate Zims, try spicing up your art with some Pilot Zim! He's like show Zim except he remembered to take his meds and you can have a semi-normal conversation with him.

[bettyfrommars]

Death Becomes Us

Part 10: The Man Who Made a Monster

vampire!Eddie x supernatural!Fem!Reader

masterlist playlist

WC: 7.6k

18+ONLY, MDNI, mention of wounds, car accidents, a bit of body horror, angst, guns, gunshot wounds, reader gets physically hurt (but bounces right back), blood, drinking blood, allusions to smut, evil men, supernatural powers, a demobat fren, fear of the unknown, a fire, werewolf!Steve, Dr. Brenner. References to one of my favorite 80's shows, the Incredible Hulk with Lou Ferrigno, and mid-90's MTV. Tiny references to FOI that you won't even notice if you haven't read the book.

Summary: Eddie, Jareth, and Steve come to your rescue, but do you even need to be rescued? Bad men surface and reader finds strength she never knew she had. Eddie confesses more than one secret to us, and the tension is thick. Reader is called Dove as a nickname.

Author's Note: I covered quite a few bases in this chapter, but there is still a lot to explore in the next and final part. We get to see reader in action and get some much-deserved satisfaction. I 've been staring at it for so long, I really hope you have fun reading this, love you. As always, Jareth's face claim is Jamie Campbell Bower.

-----

this starts right where Part 9 left off

Eddie snatched his keys and shoved Steve out the door before he quickly put some food down for Dio and locked the dead bolt.  

Steve called shotgun in the air, vaulting over the hood like an extra from the movie Grease, making Jareth roll his eyes.  “Is he part werewolf or labrador?” Whispering under his breath to Eddie, but Eddie just nudged him out of the way.

Jareth paused on the opposite side of the Pontiac GTO.  “We should go on foot, it would be faster,” hinting to the lightning-speed with which vampires moved.

Eddie inclined his head to Steve.  “Not when we’ve got the pup with us.”

“Fuck you,” Steve sneered, brushing back a flop of hair from his forehead.  “I can keep up with you two geezers, trust me.”

“What if I just kill him and rid us of the dead weight,” Jareth grumbled.

“You can try,” Steve bit, growling deep in his chest.

“Enough!” Eddie snapped, swatting the top of the car with his hand.  “Everyone get in and hold the fuck on. We’re goin’ for a ride.”

—----

Heat scorched through your veins like lava, and as your eyes fluttered open, you passively wondered if the car was on fire, and you were about to be cooked alive.

But

You were no longer in the vehicle.  Squeezing your eyelids tight to find the memory, recollection came flooding back as your fingers curled into dirt, cheek pressed into the forest foliage.  There might have even been a pinecone acting as a pillow at your ear.  

The muscles in your arms and shoulders throbbed, not to mention the feeling of your skull being cracked open by a catastrophic neurological event.  A migraine to rival all migraines.

You remembered being taken…the conversation about Brenner…and Bela…

Bela!

You called her name, but it came out as nothing but a puff of air, a whine deep in your chest.  

What if she got hurt in the crash? What if she —

The crash!

Adrenaline flushed through you like a swarm of bees and you sat up, cracking your stiff neck as you went, and your head swam.  

Where the fuck were you?

A car passed a few yards away on the highway and you realized you’d been tossed into a ravine.  In the distance, the SUV you’d been kidnapped in was on its back and smoking as if something inside had caught fire.  Where was that awful witch and the man who was driving?

A memory of ripping the door off by its hinges and climbing out of the vehicle flashed behind your eyes, but that was impossible.  You must’ve been able to jump out and then hit your head or something. You weren’t turning green and ripping out of your clothes; you were no Lou Ferrigno.

You moved your legs to make sure they worked, and soon you were on your feet, using tufts of grass to crawl along as if you were about to fall off the earth.

In the distance, thunder rolled.

—----

“Turn here, take the shortcut!” Steve shot his hairy arm between the two seats, pointing to right after the stop sign.

“I know what I’m doing!” Eddie roared.  “Just sit the fuck back and stay cool.”

Eddie could feel you, and his heart was jackhammering in his chest.

He floored the gas, tires squealing as they ghosted the road, peeling down the old highway through the woods that barely anyone used anymore.  The velocity shot Steve back against his seat, and Jareth’s fingers dug into the console while music from Sisters of Mercy blared from the stereo. 

“We’re close,” Eddie lowered his chin, laser focused on the scene ahead of him.  He could feel that familiar static fill his body whenever he was in your vicinity.  

You were not the first human whose blood he’d tasted, not by a long shot.  In fact, for the first few years after he’d been made vampire, he didn’t care about  himself or anyone else, and it seemed there wasn’t a willing human in a 100 mile radius that he hadn’t tasted.

But with you, it wasn’t even about your blood.

You made him feel a certain type of way that he’d been missing for over a decade, perhaps even his whole life.

The clouds trembled, and a crackle of lightning shot a silent burst of light through the midnight sky. All three of them could smell the wreck before it was ever in view, and Eddie released his foot on the gas to slow down a bit.

—---

You stumbled onto the main highway, and the headlights came at you too fast to understand what was happening.  

Everything was so bright, it hurt your eyes. It made you swipe your hands in the air and groan, fighting the illumination as if it were a tangible enemy. 

The car coming at you screeched on its brakes, twisting to the side so that it wouldn’t hit you, skidding sideways.

In a blink, you recognized the stunned faces on the other side of the windshield.

—---

The other two men in the car didn’t see that it was you at first—but Eddie knew.  He’d witnessed those shock white eyes before, void of color or pupil.

Electricity snapped off you, as if  you were a live wire. It crackled and skipped off of your skin like the lightning that appeared above them in the sky.

One of your arms was twisted unnaturally backwards at the elbow, but you somehow flexed the joint back into place as you stood there, correcting your posture.  You stood on one side of  your foot as if your ankle was broken, but then that righted itself with a sickening twist.  Your limbs jerked like the walking dead trying to move for the first time after reanimation.  All of this, and yet your face appeared unphased, as if you were impervious to the pain.

Your face was set in surprise and fear and confusion, and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest to be able to hold you.

With a curse, he slammed the GTO to a halt, tires burning rubber as they locked and skidded on the asphalt.  

Something told him you were fairly invincible, just like him, but he wasn’t taking any chances.  

Steve slid across the backseat, knocking his head on impact, and Jareth’s fingers dug so deep into the console that they left puncture marks.  

Eddie didn’t have time to think about what the other two were doing or the danger of leaving his car in the middle of the highway, he threw the gear into park and jumped out to check on you.

From above, there came a loud squawking, and Bela soared down from where she’d been circling in the sky to land on your shoulder with a weight that almost made you lose your balance.

—-----

Bela bared her teeth and screeched at whoever was approaching from the vehicle.  The headlights were too bright, and your ear canals were on fire with hot noise.  A loud, shrill ringing filled your skull cavity like sharp a million tiny pinpricks.

But then you recognized his silhouette

You’d know  it anywhere

“Eddie?”

“It’s me,” he assured you.  “Are you hurt?”

Bela settled once she knew it was him, lowering her wings, and his body came to block the light so that you could see the distress in his face.  He reached a hand out to touch your arm, but then he yanked it back with a hiss.  It was like you’d given him an electrical shock, with volts like those from a cattle prod or taser.  

“I didn’t mean to do that,” you hesitated, hoping he’d dare to touch you again. 

And he did, rushing closer without pause, not caring about how bad the last one stung. He cupped one hand at your jaw while the other went to your hip, searching your mouth for temptation's sake.  “Let’s get you home.”

He got zapped a few more times from seemingly stray sparks, in the chest and the side, making him wince, but he did not relent.  It was a good thing the violent stabbing did not force him back, because just then your knees gave out and you slumped into his arms. Bela took to the sky again before landing on the hood of the GTO with another high pitched wail, wings spanning out as if she were about to conduct an orchestra.

Eddie dropped to his knees on the ground next to you, careful to protect your head from the pavement with his hand.  In wolf form, Steve trotted over to nudge your face with his snout and lick your cheek with a whimper.

“She’ll be okay,” Eddie took his jacket off and made it into a pillow for you, before angling to sink his fangs into his own wrist.  “She needs blood.”

“Use mine,” Jareth hovered nearby, and you could vaguely hear them arguing as your adrenaline crashed.  “I’m older, my blood is stronger.”

“No,” Eddie growled, and then the two bared their teeth at each other.  

Eddie knew that, more than anything, Jareth wanted to be in  your head, to be linked to you in the same way he was.  To know where you were at all times and for you to have…those special dreams about him.  No way in hell would Eddie let that happen.

He’d already punctured a vein and had his tattooed wrist over your mouth, leaking his life force into your trembling lips until you were able to latch on and suck.  

Jareth’s stare bore into Eddie.  “Maybe I should tell her you’re the reason Brenner knew about her in the first place.”

Eddie glared at him.  “You don’t know fuck about it.”

Jareth smirked.  “I know more than you think about the little ‘job’ you were hired to do for him.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed and he shushed him. “This isn’t the place for this, Jareth.”

A car had to navigate around the GTO to continue down the old highway, and the person shouted their disapproval, but then the driver slowed once he spotted you on the ground and the SUV that was rolled over on its side in the distance.

Jareth and Eddie turned to him and hissed with their fangs out, glaring at him with obsidian eyes, until he slammed on the gas and sped off in the direction he was headed.  Steve growled and chased after the car, keeping up with it for a while before hanging back to sniff around the wreckage that you’d managed to somehow survive.  

You mumbled, gurgling on a spurt of blood, and Eddie took his wrist away.  Your eyes were closed, but your tongue flicked out to lick more of his essence from your stained lips.  Were you conscious enough to know what they were talking about? He’d planned on telling you everything, but the time was never right.  He never expected things to get so…messy.  Never expected you’d become so…special to him.  

Some rich dude offers you to keep an eye on someone for a couple weeks for an abnormally huge chunk of cash, you do it.  He’d had no skin in the game when he initially accepted the offer.  

Caring about you as much as he did was the last fucking thing he’d expected to happen, but he didn’t know how to make it stop.

Jareth leaned over you to get closer to Eddie.  “If you don’t tell her soon, I will, and your little fairytale will be over.”

All Eddie could do was grind his teeth: Jareth was right, he should’ve explained the whole thing to you that night when he’d waited for you to get back from your date with Steve.  But by then, he was afraid he’d lose you.

Yet, how could you lose someone you never had?

“We need to get out of here,” Eddie eased you into a sitting position, your head flopped, and then held your chin in his hand.  Your eyelids were fluttering and your skin was beginning to cool as the healing properties of his blood took effect.  

God, how badly he wanted to press his lips to yours.

“What about the witch?” Jareth stood to full height to look over and see Steve sniffing around the crash. “What if they survived?”

Eddie had you off your feet and lifted in his arms by then, but Jareth was right.  As much as he wanted to get you far away from there, he’d watched enough horror movies to know that you never turned your back on a killer until you knew they were dead.  Knocking them unconscious with the back of a shovel wasn’t enough; you had to chop their whole head off and throw them in a cement mixer.

Steve morphed back into human form halfway back to the group, butt naked again, to report back on what he’d found.

Eddie waited for him to announce that there was no one in the vehicle and the bodies were gone…

But instead, Steve shook his head.  “Looks like they didn’t survive.  His neck is broken and she’s—-”

“Are you sure?” Jareth blurted with an air of irritation. “Maybe I should check for myself.”

“I think I know what a dead body smells like, asshole,” Steve grunted, pushing back on Jareth’s chest.

The headlights of another car was approaching, and Eddie reiterated that they needed to get as far away as possible from the scene of the crime. He threw the keys to Jareth, and made Steve sit in front so that he could crawl into the back with you while you healed.  Bela billowed into the sky and hovered there, waiting to see where they were taking you so she could follow.  

It wasn’t his blood that healed your broken foot or your fractured arm though—you’d done that all by yourself.  Maybe you didn’t need him after all, maybe you’d be better off without him.

“Put your pants back on,” Eddie tossed the clothing from the back seat over to Steve.  “I don’t need you teabagging the upholstery.”

Next to him, you had your head on Eddie’s shoulder and your hand on his thigh when Jareth sped off just in time to miss being clipped by the oncoming semi truck.  It blared its horn just as you lifted your head to look up at Eddie with groggy eyes.

He licked his lips, feeling his throat close up at how near your face was to his.

“Did you save me?” Your voice was strained, sounding like your esophagus was constricted.

Eddie put his hand over yours and you interlaced fingers.  “I think you saved yourself,” he mumbled.  “You don’t need me.”

“I do,” you said it so fast, and he leaned over even more, thinking maybe he hadn’t heard you correctly.  “I do need you.”

Your hand in his, he brought it up to his chest, searching your eyes as an avalanche of words trembled at the tip of his tongue, right there wanting to roll out like a carpet of devotion to you.  

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves because he was shaking so fucking bad.

Jareth caught his eye in the rearview mirror and the two glared at each other before Eddie broke contact and wrapped another arm around your shoulders to bring you closer.  “We’re almost home,” he hushed, planting his lips to your forehead, blushing at the way you refused to let go of his hand.  “I won’t leave you.”

—----

By the time you got back to the trailer park, your energy and strength had been fortified and you urged everyone to go home to let you get some rest, except for Eddie, who’s hand you were still holding as you got out of the car.

The witch and her companion being dead felt too good to be true, and a measure of palpable dread hung in the air.  It was unspoken knowledge that Brenner was still after you, and he knew exactly where you lived.  

Jareth stepped forward, tipping your chin up with the crook of his finger.  “Are you sure you don’t need anything, love?”

“She has me,” Eddie growled.

Jareth fluttered his eyelids in that bored way he’d mastered.  “If you’re so concerned, we’d be better off at Sacrament.  I can keep her safe there more sufficiently than she’d be in this…” he fanned his hand around a few times, “...this place.”

Bela landed on the railing with a swoosh and squawked.

“I hate to say it, after everything,” you angled toward the steps, exhausted.  “But I don’t think this Brenner person is going to stop until he gets what he wants.” You glanced sideways at Eddie. “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me.”

“I’d like to meet this guy myself,” Steve said through gritted teeth.  

Jareth flipped the collar of his coat up and ran a hand through his golden hair.  “Well, my offer stands.  Sacrament is at your service if you should require shelter or protection.”

“Sounds good,” Eddie said dismissively, reaching for the railing to cage you away from the two men. “We’ll let you know.”

“Thank you, Jareth,” you told him, and he winked at you, returning the genuine curve of your smile.

And Eddie hated it so much, he wouldn't have been surprised if steam were coming out of his ears like a cartoon villain.

But he let it slide because Jareth could make things fucking awkward in that moment if he wanted to.  

You turned to Steve.  “Would you like to come in? I don’t have much by way of food, but—”

“He’s fine,” Eddie answered for him.

The two glared at each other for a beat, but then Steve relented.  “Thank you, but I’m not hungry.  Still, I think I’ll stick around for a while, check the perimeter,” he ignored the tick in Eddie’s jaw and waved at you as he backed up to disappear around the backside of the trailer. 

“Hey Harrington, my vest!” Eddie shouted, and it wasn’t long before the denim came sailing through the air to land on the dead lawn near the porch.  Eddie bent to pick it up with a huff, and by then Jareth had disappeared into the night.

Now you were finally alone, and as much as it was what he wanted, it made his stomach drop.

Eddie paced the living room a bit before taking a seat, perching precariously at the end of the sofa to bounce his knee and gnaw at his bottom lip.  

“Listen,” you took a beer and a half-full bottle of NuBlood out of the fridge to put it in the microwave for him.  “I figure there’s no use asking you to leave with people obviously hunting me down, but I really need to take a shower.  So just…make yourself at home I suppose?”

The microwave dinged and you walked the warm glass bottle over, and then waited for him to wrap his hand around it, fingers grazing yours, before you spoke. “I feel like there are some things we should talk about.”

Eddie was already nodding. “I’d like that,” he gulped.

Eddie waited until he heard the shower running before he sank down into the cushion and used the remote to turn the TV on.  He needed to distract himself from letting his mind wander to how you were absolutely undressing in there, about to be naked and wet and…

He squirmed in his seat and turned the volume up.  It was an MTV music video for Metallica’s Until it Sleeps, but he only vaguely cared as he puffed his cheeks for a forceful exhale. In his head, he practiced what he would say, how he would beg your forgiveness, and how he never really understood what this guy Brenner was all about until it was too late…

In the shower, you made the water as hot as you could handle it, leaning into the burn, and stood there for the longest time without moving. Eyes closed, you could feel Eddie step into the shower behind you, sneaking his hands around to pluck at your nipples.  “Room for one more?” He rumbled in your ear, just before he nibbled it.

He wasn’t really there, but you couldn’t help but touch yourself with a soapy hand as if he were, biting your lip around a moan.

The water ran cold by the time you were ready to step out, swooshing the curtain aside with a swift swipe of your arm.  

The thump of something heavy falling to the ground out in the living room had you straining to hear what it might’ve been as you pulled a clean t-shirt and jeans on.  Music videos were on, playing In the Blood by Better Than Ezra, and you called Eddie’s name.

The only response you got was from Bela, and she let out one long screech that felt like it had the power to break glass.

“Eddie?” You shouted this time, flinging the door open to let the steam roll out and fill the hallway. “Bela??”

The door to your trailer was wide open, but Bela was there, scrambling from the back of the couch to perch on your shoulder the second you came into view. 

“What happened?” You asked your demobat companion.  “He just left us here? Without a word?”

The potted terracotta plant that had once been above the TV right by the door was on the carpet, shattered.  

You crossed your arms over your chest, and shivered as you stepped one foot out on the porch to look around, a chill breeze nipping at your flesh.  “Eddie? Are you out here? Steve?”

The whole court was eerily silent, even the crickets and frogs were holding their breath.

You backed up into the house, pulling the door shut.

The TV screen went from MTV to static, and you stepped back to stare at it while Bela swished her tentacles around nervously, leaving red, raised scratches on your arm and neck.  She was heavy, but you’d gotten used to her weight and hitched our shoulder up to accommodate.

The static changed to the image of a man standing before a black backdrop.  He was tall and thin, wearing a business suit with a full head of silver hair. 

“Hello Dove,” the man on your TV said.

He was looking right at you.

You glanced around for a weapon, but as if he could read your mind he said.  “No need for that, I don’t want to hurt you.”  He was handsome in a “trust me”, evil doctor kind of way, but the last thing you felt like giving him was your trust.

“What did you do to Eddie?” It felt stupid, talking to an electronic device as if it were a person, but that was the situation you’d found yourself in.  

Brenner said nothing, but you got a bad feeling and swallowed to wet your dry mouth before taking cautions steps over to the window facing his trailer to peel back the blinds.

But you could already see the flames inside, and just then, you smelled the smoke.

His trailer

It was on fire.

“Nononono no,” You chanted, charging for the door.  

“Come with me quietly,” the man on the TV said, calmly. “Or your vampire boyfriend will meet the final death.”

You halted in your tracks, glaring down at the older man, nostrils flaring with anger.  “Come with you? Where are you hiding?” You chided; hands balled into fist as you cocked your head. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

Brenner looked down before meeting your eyes again.  “Your father underestimated the capacity for your powers.  I don’t plan to make the same mistake.”

“How did you know my father?” You barked.

Outside, one of Eddie’s windows blew out, glass shattering everywhere, and his curtains went up in flames.

You ran outside and flew down the steps before the man's voice could stop you.  Dio, Eddie’s cat, ran by to hide under your trailer.  

Maybe Eddie had gone in like a crazy person to save some photos or something, and somehow, he’d gotten trapped in there.   Bela took to the sky while you rushed to his door.

But then there he was, staggering out on a dark cloud of smoke, holding an electric guitar in his hand.

“My sweetheart,” he held it up.  “I couldn’t let her burn.”

He was smiling at you from the top of his steps, dimples popping, and you could help but mirror it, flooded with relief.  He really didn’t care that his whole place was burning, as long as he had Dio, his guitar, and you.

He’d lost much more in his life to a fire once when he was younger, so this one wouldn't sting half as bad.  

And it suddenly didn’t matter that some creepy old dude could somehow talk to you through your TV: Eddie was okay.  

But then something else happened. 

He took the first step, never taking his eyes off of you, but something knocked his shoulder back, like an invisible punch.  

And then another and another

The smile on his face quivered and his forehead creased, trying to understand what was happening.

He tucked his chin to look at his torso, and your eyes followed.

Dark blooms were appearing on his shirt like liquid spilled from an inkwell.  On his chest, over his heart, from his stomach.  

He stumbled down the last two steps and then fell to his knees, dropping the guitar so that he could brace himself with his hand.

Had Eddie been shot?

You didn’t have time to figure that out.  Some strange voice in your head told you there was a chance the trailer could explode—or maybe you’d watched too many movies—but you had to get him away from there.  He was a vampire, and even if he had been shot, he could heal, but you weren't sure how he would survive his body being blown to bits.  

The next thing you knew, you were carrying him, much like he’d carried you in his arms earlier.  You didn't need to summon the insane strength; it was just there. There was that buzzing in your skull, and you could feel violent sparks crackling through your muscles.

Everyone was coming out of their trailers at that point, and Dolores was screaming frantically into her phone wearing a nightshirt and curlers in her hair.  You didn’t know how long it would take for the fire department to get there, or if there was a possibility that the wreckage would spread to the other trailers.

You put Eddie down on the other side of your hearse and leaned him back against the tire to find there was blood trickling from his mouth, but he still tried to grin at you.

“See,” he sputtered.  “You’re like a superhero.  You don’t need me.”

“But I do,” tears clouded your eyes while another window blew out from the trailer.  You put your forehead to his and your lips brushed together.  “Please, don’t leave me.  Eddie I—”

“The bullets,” he winced.  “They’re silver.  My body can’t reject them.”

There were three or four different holes in him there that were steaming as the silver burned him from the inside.  You cupped your hand on his jaw, and he grabbed your wrist, turning his head to kiss your palm.  

“Here, take my blood—” 

You yanked your shirt down to give him your pulsing jugular, but all of a sudden you were forced back by some unseen force, flying through the air until you landed ass first in the gravel and skidded to a stop, rolling over to find yourself face first at the feet of someone wearing a pair of black, shiny shoes and slacks.

“Dove,” a familiar, deep voice said. “We meet again.”

You pushed back, scuttling away to find that it was the man from your TV; he was standing in your trailer park.  Flanked by two menacing looking men with bald, tattooed heads, wearing sunglasses.  Each of them in suits and ties as if they were the actual Men in Black.  

“I don’t know you,” you grumbled, getting to your feet that were bare and bleeding, but healing rapidly. You checked around each shoulder cautiously to see that there was a handful of other men in suits, all of them holding guns, and then a tall guy with a scalp of strawberry stubble, no more than 20, in a red jumpsuit. The guy had his chin down, eyes pinned on you as if he might shoot lasers from them.

His expression was deceivingly kind.  “My name is Martin Brenner.  I met you before you died the first time,” he said casually.

“You see, your father and I used to be friends,” he walked a circle around you, before coming front and center again.  “He stole valuable information from my laboratory in order to bring you back.  You're my property as well, but he decided to keep you from me.”  

“My father never mentioned you,” was all you could say.  In your peripheral vision, you could tell the others were inching close.

“We could’ve been so great together, Dove.  Imagine your contribution to science.  And you would not be so uncertain about your powers,” he stepped back to gesture at the boy in the red jumpsuit.  “I want to introduce you to Kane.  He was reanimated the same way you were, but under my expertise and supervision.”

Kane had a railroad scar on his forehead, and a hand that was a different skin color than the rest of his body.  It wasn’t just a different skin tone; it was a body part from an entirely different person.

You thought about all of the love you were raised with, and though your dad fumbled the ball on attentiveness quite a bit, you never doubted how much he cared for you.  You were beginning to understand that maybe he didn’t explain what abilities you might have because it would lead you back to Brenner somehow.

The surge of power was growing inside of you, and instead of pushing it down, you let it grow and churn and spill out, creating a type of electrical force field around your body, a vibrating aura of protection.

“Show her what you can do, Kane,” Brenner said.

Not sure what to expect, you watched Kane rubbed his hands together, creating a bright bolt of lightning from the friction, his eyes went milk white, and then he shot an arm out towards the nearest hulking security guard, palm open, and it sent the man in black off his feet, sailing back as if he were hugging an invisible beach ball.  He smacked into the side of the opposite neighbor’s trailer with a bone to metal thwack.  

Your eyes were fixed for too long on the man slumped in the gravel, and when you turned to face Kane again, he was a few steps closer, peering through his lashes at you with an evil twitch of his lips.

Apparently, you were the next example in his bag of tricks.  

Your feet were off the ground before you could process another thought, catching air like a rag doll only to drop down and skid face first into the cold, dry earth.  

Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be, eh? Lifting into a push up position, you spat dirt and blood from your mouth with a curse.

Gathering yourself up and into a crouch, you vaguely heard Eddie call your name, but he was still rendered temporarily helpless by the silver, and your head was spinning.  Not so much from confusion and fear this time, but more…anger.

You nailed Kane with a heated look, and then your hand lashed out in his direction, though he was yards away, and actual sparks flew from your palm, spitting like fireworks.

Kane was pummeled in the gut with a force he obviously wasn’t expecting, and you kept going before he could find his footing again, knocking him down before he could raise a hand at you again..

“How does that feel?” You bit, towering over him. 

In a heartbeat, you lifted Kane’s limp body above your head with a roar that you could not believe came from your own mouth.  Arching back, you aimed to drop him over the nearby trailer hitch, which would surely break his back, if not kill him, but then you remembered who you were and faltered.

Blinking, trying to quiet the buzzing in your skull, you knew you did not want to kill this boy.

You understood, even under such duress, that he was only doing what he was told.  

But Brenner was actually applauding you, pupils blown from the intensity, urging you to keep going, to murder this stranger at his bidding.  

You could’ve very easily ended up just like Kane, if not for the love and protection of your father.  

Heaving, trying to calm yourself, you threw Kane’s body in the opposite direction, so that he landed on flat ground that would absolutely hurt, but he’d be able to walk away.  

Brenner beamed at you like a parent watching their child take their first steps.  “You’re stronger than I’d imagined.  Your powers have somehow increased since your inception, and I’d love to know why.”

You squared up with him, making him step back to avoid the sparks actively snapping off of you.  “What do you want from me?”

You didn’t have to look to know that all of the guns were trained on you.  

“I want you to work for me, Dove. We could change the world together, you and I.”

It felt like he was trying to sell you a car, not asking to hook you up to electrodes and make you his own personal soldier.  

“Never,” you were calm now, and you wanted nothing to do with this man or whatever he thought he could do for you.

The flames went higher on the trailer, and in the distance, wails of a fire engine could be heard.  

You caught sight of Eddie, but he was flat on the ground now and no longer sitting up.

You rushed by Brenner, slamming into his shoulder as you went, but two of the guards caught you by the arms.  It felt like they were stronger than normal men, and when they bared their fangs, you realized they were vampires.

Growling, you flung them off of you, and they went stumbling back as if they weighed nothing, as if you were suddenly impervious to their supernatural strength.

“Kill the boyfriend,” you heard Brenner bark at the men.  “Use the wooden bullets this time.”

A gun cocked, and you ran a few steps, but then vaulted over Eddie’s body, arms wide, using yours as a shield.

You felt the bullet impact like a dagger in your back, but it was as if it bounced off somehow instead of penetrating.  Eddie barked in pain as you covered him, but then he clung to you as you rolled him under the hearse, away from the gunfire.  

Caging yourself on top of him, knees on either side of his hips, and stomachs touching, you could feel how weak he was; the silver enabled his body from healing, and you had to find a way to get them out.  

You watched the feet of the one with the wooden bullets approach the vehicle, thinking of your next move when Eddie whispered into the side of your neck: “You’re so fucking beautiful—”

If this was the end for him, this was how he wanted to spend it: with you, being able to see your face one last time.  

Before you could respond, there came a shrill, tortured scream, and the booted feet you had your eye on stumbled back.

More agonizing screams, until the body in question dropped to the ground, limbs writhing, and you could see that Bela had attached herself to his head like an Alien facehugger.  

Only because he was a vampire, he was able to pull her off, but she took most of his flesh and his nose off with her.  

Bela took to the sky again, out of view, and they aimed their guns up at her.

“Not so fast, boys,” a new voice rumbled from the shadows. “I want to play, too.”

Eddie’s shallow breaths moving under you, it was all you could do not to cheer out loud when you realized the voice belonged to Jareth.

And apparently, Jareth brought friends; enough to fill the entire courtyard.

They were crouching on the roofs, on cars, everywhere.

Brenner and his crew were surrounded; Bela had gone to get help.  

In the woods, a pack of wolves howled their attendance as well.  

Jareth pierced the closest vampire in the heart with a wooden stake and he exploded, guts flying everywhere.  

As far as the human bodyguards went, the rest was a bloodbath.  

From what you were told later, Kane ran, and Brenner tried to get behind the wheel of the SUV, but instead he was dragged into the war zone and drained dry before being ripped limb from limb. 

Jareth wanted to keep the doctor in his dungeon to torture him, but a few of the vampires knew of Brenner and the experiments he’d done on their kind over the years.  It was all nothing short of sadistic torture, keeping them barely alive so that he could run experiments on them over time and sell their blood for a profit.

They’d been wanting to get their hands on him for a long time.

—-----

By the time the rescue team and fire truck showed up, all of the vampires had evaporated into the shadows, and you’d snuck Eddie up into your bedroom, carrying most of his weight as he was only able to hobble.  You collected his guitar as well, and brought Dio inside, since those were the only two things from the burning wreckage, he voiced a care about.  With the lights out and the curtains closed, you used a modest bedside reading lamp to assess the damage.  While you were concentrating on him, his eyes never left your face, his heart bursting. 

“You might have to suck them out,” he cleared his throat.  “The bullets I mean.  I’m sorry if that’s weird.”

“You mean, weirder than all of the other shit that happened tonight?” You mumbled, coming back from washing your hands.  There was still dirt caked under your nails, possibly some blood, but whatever.

“Good point.”

Until you got the bullets out, any blood you gave him would be useless, so without another moment of hesitation, you crawled up on the bed, springs bouncing, and knelt next to his torso, bracing a hand at either side of him. He was burning up around the sight of each wound, and the skin sizzled as the alloy continued to roast him alive.  

The first one was at the surface and came out fast, hot metal on your tongue.  The next one, under his right nipple, was deeper and you had to suck harder, making Eddie’s toes curl.  You spit each out onto the floor, and strings of his blood mingled in your saliva.

One hand behind his head, the other rested at his hip with a thumb in his belt loop.  “So, you’re like…the incredible Hulk, but with powers.  That’s pretty badass.”

“I don’t know what I am,” you scoffed, sucking out another, and then pausing to watch the openings seal up and heal.  “I’m a waitress, that’s all.  That’s all I want to be.”

He nodded, musing on how many times he’d wished he could go back and not be a vampire. He wanted to tell you the story of when he was reborn, but that could wait for another time.  Now it was time to put some very messy cards on the table. 

The last bullet was deep, and you had to swirl your tongue around in the hole to loosen it.

“I have something I need to tell you,” he blurted while your lips were near his belly button.

“Mmmhmm?”

Fuck, here it goes…

“First, I just want to say that I had no idea who this Brenner guy was before, like, a few months ago,” his next swallow felt like he was chugging a grapefruit. “If I’d have known what a creep, he was I never would’ve…”

You stopped what you were doing to raise your head, waiting for him to finish, the final bit of silver still lodged in his abdomen. “You knew of Brenner? Before all this?”

He couldn’t look at you, he had to stare at the ceiling.  

“Uh, yeah, that first week you were here, he tracked me down at the chop shop and said he’d pay me a shit ton of money to keep an eye on you. I didn’t ask a lot of questions.  As far as I knew, you were his long-lost daughter, or some shit and he wanted to make sure you were safe.”

You sat back on your knees, trying to let that sink in.

He lifted up to brace himself on an elbow, wincing at the sting of the remaining bullet.  “I didn’t know you then, that was before we were…” he fumbled with what he wanted to call you and what you actually were, “...a friend.”  

“So,” you frowned down at your hands.  “You’re the reason I was kidnapped tonight? The reason all of this happened?”  Your wide eyes snapped to him.  “Did you set me up?”

He sliced his hand in the air a few times, shaking his head vigorously.  “No..nope…I had nothing to do with any of this,” he pleaded.  “I only reported back to him for a couple of weeks, and then I stopped, really.  After that night I first took you to Sacrament, I told him I was too busy to—”

All of the horrific memories were rushing back to you.  “What about the Klemp’s? Did you pay them to hurt me or something? So that I’d have to drink your blood and let you into my head?”

Eddie spoke so fast; he stuttered over his words.  “No, absolutely not, never! I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. I would never let anyone hurt you like that.”

“But they did hurt me,” you muttered.

Now it was you who couldn’t look at him, working your jaw muscles as you tried to decide which emotion you should be feeling.

“Why should I even believe you?” Your voice was small.

“Please believe me I—”

“If you knew this guy was stalking me, why didn’t you tell me sooner? If you’re as concerned for my welfare as you claim to be?”

You couldn’t tell if you wanted to cry or scream; maybe both.

Eddie didn’t have a chance to answer.  You were on your feet at the end of the bed with your arms crossed.  

Suddenly, you were shaking, and you couldn’t control it. “After Sacrament, I didn’t see you for a long time, it felt like you were avoiding me.  Was that because you no longer had to fake interest in me for your scam?”

Eddie pushed himself up into a seated position, blinking back the memory of how painfully hard it had been to stay away from you for all that time.  “No, you have to trust me, that had nothing to do with—”

“Trust you?” You barked a sarcastic laugh.  “Tell me why then? Why avoid me for so long, huh? Because you weren’t getting paid to—”

Eddie’s voice wavered and he spoke in a rush.  “Because I started to have feelings for you, that’s why. Happy? Because ever since that first day I saw you, you’re all I can fucking think about.  Because I can’t even look at another woman without seeing your face, and believe me, I’ve tried. I’ve gotten real good at disappointing people and leaving people behind, and all I know is, I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Your lips parted to say something, but he figured what the hell, he might as well scare you all the way off while he was at it.

He relaxed his shoulders and wet his lips. “I never told you that I was made vampire against my will.  I died and was brought back, but my heart went cold, and I never thought I’d feel anything for anyone ever again.  I didn’t want to feel anything.  I should’ve stayed dead, I wanted to be with all of the people I’d lost…”

His suede brown eyes sought your face.  “When I’m with you, I don’t feel dead anymore. When I think about you, I feel fragile and human again.  Like maybe I’ve got something worth giving away.”

Silence filled the room like helium in a balloon about to burst.  

He’d gone for broke, and there was nowhere left to hide. He was officially at your feet, where he’d always been.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered when you didn’t respond right away. “I get it.”

You tilted your head all the way back to stare at the ceiling.

“I dream about you every night,” you admitted on an exhale. “Logically I know it has to do with ingesting your blood, but it’s…it’s more than that.”

He bit at the inside of his cheek, picking at a thread on the comforter.  “Every night, huh?”

You gave a few slow nods, and you could almost hear the smile pull across his teeth. 

“Yeah, so, blood induced dreaming should only happen a handful of times after it’s ingested,” he said, shifting in his seat. 

You kept nodding, since that was something you’d already suspected.  “The dreams are always so vivid, I wake up…”

He dared to finish for you after a long pause. “Wanting more?”

“No,” you corrected, turning to face him.  “I wake up wishing they were real.”

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I la la la love you all who have reached out to me about this story and continue to cheer it on. Comments, reblogs, and asks about this world mean everything to me.

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Taglist: @trixyvixx@sllooney@writinginthetwilight@sidthedollface2@atomickaratel8dy@probablyin-bed@kiyastrf94@briamunson92 @joannamuns9n@jasminelafleur @@bellalillyrose @dashingdeb16 @alba8688 @corrodeddeadlydoll@brassreign@likedovesinthewnd @ilovetaquitosmmm @skrzydlak@onegirlmanytales@angietherose@probablyin-bed@reidsbtch@moonbeamsandmayhem@eddiesxangel@hideoutside@secretdryrose@nailbatanddungeon@thorfemmes@corkadymu@kellsck@mrsjellymunson@poofyloofy@dream-a-little-nightmare

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: language, angst, depictions of blood

Chapter Word Count: 3327

—-MDNI—-

A/N: soooo this chapter felt weird to write, but hey I wanted it for the plot to thicken haha. It’s different, but things will feel a bit more normal after this chapter.

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Please read the below:

Prologue Chapter 1

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8pt.1

Chapter 8pt.2

Chapter 9 Chapter 10

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 11

By the time I’d passed the security check, introduced myself to the two other girls currently on shift and found my dressing room, the nerves were starting to dissipate. Through each step and each new room I’d entered I was making countless mental notes on every security camera and exit I could see. It wasn’t hard to tell that everyone except the bar and wait staff and the dancers were all vampires - their noses twitching and eyes widening whenever I’d walked past. I was clearly fresh meat - perhaps not in the immediate future, but I’m guessing that as soon as I’d served my purpose in luring unknowing human men to their untimely demise, I’d be next. Or at least kept as a blood bag, and I didn’t know which was worse.

A sharp knock on the door brought me back to reality, the vamp on the other side not even waiting for a reply as he barged in.

“You’re sure taking your time sweet cheeks, everything ok?” His sharp gaze twinkled as he looked at me, as if searching for any sort of vulnerability. I huffed out a final deep breath of nerves before standing straight and forcing a smile, shimmying out of my thick overcoat and throwing it over the back of the chair I was just leaning on. On the revelation of my figure and my outfit he let out a long, low whistle.

“Well don’t you just look good enough to eat?”

I swallowed despite my mouth being dry, trying my best to bring my confidence to the forefront and to ignore what he is.

“Well you wouldn’t be the first to say so,” I almost felt nauseous from having to sound so sweet. “Why don’t you lead the way and show me where I’m supposed to be?”

He didn’t take any convincing as he led me out the room and down a short corridor that was lined with what I’m assuming are other dressing rooms.

“What’s in there?” I asked, my gaze snagging on a metal door that didn’t look like the rest. It looked more like a vault, with an intricate lock system that seemed to need both keys and fingerprints.

“Errrrr, just the boss's office. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about,” he placed his hand on my hair, making me shudder.

“Oh ok… will I ever get to meet the boss?” I asked, tilting my head to the side. Keeping up with this cutie-pie act was going to be more draining than I thought. He stayed quiet for a moment before speaking up, an unsettling look on his face.

“Of course doll face! When the time is right.”

*

About two hours had passed since I arrived at the club and a steady stream of men (occasionally women) was filtering in. I was currently up on a podium and trying not to think too hard about how I should be dancing whilst keeping my eyes peeled on the crowd, every now and then making eye contact with the patrons and blowing them a sickening kiss with a sultry wink. Every time I slipped away for a ‘toilet break’ I'd unlock as many windows and doors as I could find whilst turning security cameras towards the wall. I'd counted around fifteen vampires milling around as I snuck about, and there were definitely more behind that metal door. This place was about as prepared as possible for Sam and Dean to sneak in, so I sent Charlie a text with all the details I had knowing full well she could no longer see me through the cameras she'd hacked into.

I'd been back on my podium for about ten minutes, moving my body to the loud bass of the blaring music under the erotic lighting which glowed all manner of pinks and reds, when the front door opened again to let another patron in. Except this wasn't a patron.

It was Dean.

I cursed under my breath, frowning at him across the dance floor despite the fact he hadn't seen me yet. What the actual fuck was he doing coming in through the front door? I didn't play mission impossible and find countless ways for him to break in just so that he could waltz in, bold as brass and blow our cover. I watched him as he stopped in the centre of the room, illuminated by the lights that cast angular shadows over his rugged face. He was alert, jaw clenched and eyes scouring the crowd until his gaze eventually landed on me. With my arms above my head and gripping the pole behind me he was able to get a good look at what was hiding underneath my overcoat when he last saw me. Eyes glazing over and Adam's apple bobbing, he was instantly ensnared. I focused entirely on him; sinking to my knees and crawling my hands forwards, beckoning him with a single finger to which he eagerly obliged. The older Winchester stood before me, eyes almost sparkling from the lustful lighting as he gaped up at me. His evergreen eyes shone in adoration as they bore into mine, almost completely disregarding the lasciviousness of the rest of my body. It was almost…

Romantic.

I leant forwards, my painted lips brushing against his ear and pulling a shiver from his spine. I could have been mistaken, but I’m sure I heard a groan.

“What the FUCK are you doing here, Dean?”

He blinked, suddenly remembering he was on earth.

“What?”

“The plan! What happened to the plan? You were supposed to go around the back - I made it easy for you to sneak in! This place is well guarded Dean.”

“Yeah well, I wanted to make sure you were- hang on- are you a MAID?” He stepped back to take a better look at me as I sat up, trying not to draw attention to myself for staying still for too long. My eyes rolled on their own accord.

“Dean now really isn’t the tim-”

“Holy crap you’re a maid. You’re a MAID. So there is a God,” he dramatically put his hands together as though in prayer and mouthed ‘thank you’ to the disco ball on the ceiling.

“Dean-”

“Nuh-uh, I’m not letting anyone ruin this for me - not even you. Carry on, pretend I’m not Dean and there aren’t any vamps to kill; just for two minutes,” he settled into one of the chairs in front of my podium, flagging a waitress down for a whiskey in the process. There was no arguing with Dean Winchester, especially when he was ticking something off his bucket list. Grasping the pole behind me I pulled myself to my feet, hooking my leg around it and spinning slowly.

“So, NOT-Dean, where’s not-Sam?”

He took a long sip from his liquor before licking his lips, his eyes transfixed on my thighs.

“He's uhhh…. He's sneaking in through some window round the back.”

“Oh, so like you should be?”

He smirked over the top of his glass, spreading his legs a little wider as he settled further into his chair, his other hand resting in his lap.

“Don't deny a man his pleasures sweetheart.”

A half hearted scoff left my lips before I climbed higher on the pole, leaning back so I was almost upside down, granting Dean the perfect view of my lingerie as my micro-skirt flipped over my belly. Spinning slightly, I caught him adjusting himself in his jeans right as I pulled myself back upright.

“You seem pretty at home in a strip club,” my voice came out more breathy than intended as I moved my body in time with the music.

“I can say the same about you,” he quipped back, dark eyes burning into my exposed skin. Licking the last drop of whiskey from his bottom lip, he placed his glass back on the table before standing; taking long, slow steps towards my podium, the toes of his boots touching the metal. I got down on my knees, bringing myself to his eye level before taking his chin between my thumb and index finger and drawing his bewitched face nearer. We ignored the shouts from security telling Dean he wasn’t allowed to touch as I ghosted my lips over his. I could feel his chest rising and falling in anticipation for a simple kiss, his mouth agape and eyes darting about my features - trying to take all of me in. His restraint snapped and he leant forward, pressing his mouth to mine - hot and needy. A large hand reached up and long fingers wrapped around my wrist, rough skin tickling at my pulse as he guided my hand from his chin to his hair, urging me to grip it. Just as I grasped at its softness he was forced away from me, two of the vamps shoving aggressively at his shoulders and putting some distance between us.

“Keep your hands off the girls! You know the rules,” one of them practically spat out his words to Dean, who in return had a feral look in his eye as I caught his hand inching closer and closer to the blade concealed within his jacket.

“Sorry it was my fault!” I blurted, all eyes now burning into me. “It's my first shift and I forgot I shouldn't let it get that far. Don't blame him, it was me who was too…. encouraging.” I flashed sickly-sweet doe eyes at the vamp sizing up Dean, biting my lip in apprehension before he sighed and let go, shaking his head.

“I’ll let you off this time as you’re the newbie, but don’t let it happen again.”

“Yes’sir!” I tapped my fingers to my forehead in a pretend salute, hearing the fanged ones curse under their breath before walking away, throwing one last warning look at Dean - who looked like the cat that got the cream - before returning to their posts. When I knew that they were definitely out of earshot, I snapped at Dean.

“You could’ve totally blown everything!”

Shrug.

“But I didn’t.”

“Dean, you need to go. Sam is going to be wondering where you are. Find him before you get caught.”

“And what about you?” He chewed his lip, unable to stop his eyes from wandering.

“I’m going to stay here and stick to the plan. I’ll run at the first sign of trouble, so please don’t worry about me,” I sighed, looking down at his puppy-dog eyes.

“(Y/n) I’m always gonna worry about you.”

*

It must have been about twenty minutes since Dean left to find Sam and my heart was pounding in my chest knowing how close they were and the possible danger they were in. I didn’t know what doors they were behind, or how many vamps they’d taken out, and I certainly didn’t know if they were unharmed. My palms felt sweaty on the pole as I danced, making it hard for me to grip and put on a good show. Now was as good a time as any to have a toilet break and grab some coffee. I hopped down from my podium as the song ended and hurried to the back of the club, darting through a ‘staff only’ door to the break room. I poured myself a small cup of coffee, adding an obscene amount of sugar to stop my knees from trembling. I’d barely swallowed my first mouthful when I heard shouts and crashing from down the hall, my fingers instantly loosening from the mug as my high-heeled feet carried me to the door where I peaked out, desperate to know what was going on yet mindful not to be seen. There was no one in the corridor that I could see, yet I checked left and right to make sure I wasn’t being watched before I slipped out, teetering on my platforms as I tiptoed to where I was sure the noise had come from.

It was the metal door.

I poked my head down the corridor where it was located and was grateful to see it unlocked and sitting ajar. Inching closer I could hear a scuffle from within and the sound of heavy bodies dropping like lead to the floor, followed by Sam and Deans unintelligible murmuring. A sigh of relief left my lips when I heard them, knowing it wasn’t their bodies hitting the cold tiles below. That relief froze in my veins however when I heard a third voice speak up. A voice that was smooth like butter. A voice that drew you in with a silky southern accent.

A voice that I knew to be dead.

Hesitation and reasoning left in the dust, I barged forwards and into the room, shoving the metal door wide and startling the Winchester brothers, their eyes widening at my sudden appearance. Before they even had the chance to open their mouths, slow clapping echoed through the ‘old money’ style office, emanating from behind a large mahogany desk.

“And there she is! The star of my show. It’s about time you showed up darlin’,” that southern voice dripped with charisma as a handsome man, around my age, sat in a crisp stone-coloured, three piece suit.

“Hey! Don’t you talk to her, you’re dealing with us,” Dean was quick to bite. The stranger threw him a sharp glare before rising to his feet, his cold gaze landed on me again and burned me through to my very soul.

“Y-y-you’re de-” I started before being immediately cut off.

“I bet you never thought you’d see me again, hm? Especially not like this,” he gestured to himself.

“(Y/n),” Sam’s cautious eyes landed on mine, “how do you know him? He’s a vampire.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but yet again I was interrupted before a sound passed my lips.

“Oh (Y/n) and I go waaaaaaaay back, don’t we darlin’?”

I could see Dean inching closer to me out of the corner of my eye, trying not to draw attention to himself in the process. I opened my mouth to speak again, my lips and tongue feeling dry and numb, like they didn’t want to utter the word about to be spoken.

“Daniel I-”

“BINGO!” He clapped loudly, “she DOES remember her old sweetheart.”

“WHAT!?” Both Sam and Dean spun to look at me with dumbfounded expressions, a whole array of emotions flitting across their features.

“(Y/n) you dated a vamp?” Sam asked, those big eyes of his glistening with concern.

“He wasn’t a vamp when I knew him; he’s supposed to be dead!” I turned from Sam to Daniel, the confusion clearly evident on my face, “you’re supposed to be dead - I watched you die - how are you here?”

A harsh laugh rippled from his chest.

“Paramedic was a vampire sweet-cheeks. He turned me on the way to the morgue after he pronounced me dead at the scene - stroke of genius really. Although,” he paused, walking around the desk to step towards me, the boys reaching for every weapon on their person to have at the ready, “what’s even more genius is that ad we put out for a dancer.”

“What?”

He scoffed.

“You think it’s a stroke of good luck that you just happen to look exactly like the description we posted? Honey I knew from the moment I turned what you and your uncle did for living - the dots seemed to connect all on their own. And I knew that one day - whether now or in a few years - that you or some other hunter you might know would pass through my nest and see it. I knew it would bring you back to me.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, hang on their sparkles; she’s not going anywhere with you,” Dean had pushed his way in between me and Daniel, the eldest Winchester standing a few inches taller than him as they went nose-to-nose.

Daniel grimaced, fangs threatening to show.

“Why is her scent all over you? Don’t tell me you two are involved?”

Dean smirked before I shoved him out the way, his thick fingers protectively wrapping around my wrist as a safety line.

“Daniel I-,” I took a deep breath, “I loved you once. A long, long time ago. But to me, in my world; you died. And I grieved you. God I grieved you for years, and then one day I woke up and my heart didn’t hurt as much anymore. I carried on with my life, the heartache easing a little everyday. Until there was no more heartache - no more pain. I was whole again. Daniel - you’re still dead in my world. Nothing is going to change.”

He reached for my hand but Dean put an arm between us, stopping him in his tracks.

“(Y/n), darlin’, I put that ad out because I still love you. We can still be together - forever. Just let me turn you-”

“Aannnd that’s it loverboy, times up,” Dean pushed me behind him and brandished the hunting blade he’d use to slice my underwear from my body about a week ago on our first hunt together. Right as Daniel bared his fangs and lunged for Dean, I felt another hand grab my arm. I spun and came toe-to-toe with Sam who was quietly beckoning for me to follow him whilst the vampire was distracted. We left the room quietly, running down corridors, twisting and turning and falling through one of the side doors I had unlocked earlier in the night and out into the fresh air. I took a few deep breaths, not realising how much the metallic scent of blood had filled my nostrils.

“Sam what about Dean?! We can't just leave him behind he-”

Sam laughed softly.

“If you want a vamp dead, Dean will always come out on top. He'll be just fine.”

Sam helped me to my feet, looking down at me, his gaze turning from reassuring to questionable. I sighed, weariness starting to settle into my bones.

“I know, I know. I can explain it all later,” I said, starting to shuffle back to the impala, seeking the comfort of its plush leather seats.

“What? No, (Y/n) you don’t owe me an explanation if you don’t want to. I just want to know if you’re ok?”

I stopped and looked up at him, and something about the kindness of his voice and the concern in his eyes had me falling to my knees, my body heaving out a sob. Then another. And another. Until I couldn’t stop for air and hot tears washed my makeup down my face and my hair stuck to the streaks they left behind. Sam simply crouched down and pulled me into him, rubbing my back and telling me softly that everything will be ok. It was a comfort to feel his chin on my head and his heartbeat beneath my fingertips, the steady thrum eventually soothing away my anguish.

I have no idea how long we were sat there for, but he eventually coaxed me to my feet and led me to the car where Charlie was waiting with a pained expression. She would have seen, or at least heard everything that went down through the security cameras linked to her tablet - she was one of the few people in this life that had met my ex.

I was gently manoeuvred into the back seat, my head resting on Charlie's lap as she played with my hair. Sam had waited outside the impala for a few minutes before climbing into the passenger seat, slamming the door closed. Not five minutes had passed when the door slammed again as Dean clambered in, the stench of blood thick on his clothes, however the comforting scent of his cologne still managed to waft through. He turned to face me, those mossy green eyes piercing into mine as he said with the gentlest tone he could muster:

“It’s done, sweetheart.”

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Next: Chapter 12

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@suckitands33 @jackles010378 @aliceeinwonderland420 @tina-theslytherin @deans-queen @hobby27 @sobearcowboy @girls-alias @selfdestructionandrhum @ericasabe @lacilou @littlemadamred @anneanirac @deans-baby-momma @swimregulas @ashdoctor @littlemarvelstan8 @atcamillanorrman @deangirl96 @zannemes @kr804573 @foxyjwls007 @divadinag @cookiemonstermusic258 @mysterialee @ababy-girl @joonseuph0ria @mxltifxnd0m @deans-spinster-witch @st4bl3-ch40s @feyresqueen @roseblue373 @clusterfuck-meup @urinternetmom @rachiem4-blog @ceeshellecee @mojos-hidden-castle @snowayumi @evzyi @mymuseisbipolar @magssteenkamp @koharuheartfilia @spookyysinsanity @safiyas-world @uncle-eggy @happyt0exist @supernaturalstilinski @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mrsjenniferwinchester

[shaunamilfman]

you would find your way in

pairing: Lucy MacLean x Reader summary: The blight hit vault 32 hard, which is why it was such a big deal when a trade offer from vault 33 for new seeds was received. A sacrifice, on your part, was all that was needed to assure the prosperity of your home. You would leave everything you've ever known to marry the overseers daughter, Lucy MacLean, but maybe it wouldn't be as much of a sacrifice as you'd originally believed.  note: pretend they can have a test tube baby for the sake of the fic ♥️

You watch as the door separating the only home you’ve ever known, vault 32, slowly opens to reveal vault 33. You’re nearly sick with nerves, much as you’ve been the last few days. Nearly being the key word. You think she’s mostly excited about the feast after your marriage, not that you blame her much. You’d think the same way if you weren’t the one paying the price for it.

There’s not nearly enough food in the vault after the blight to be able to waste it on something as pointless as a wedding, after all. You can’t help but laugh at the figure next to you bouncing excitedly on her heels. She looks up at you at the sound, rolling her eyes as she realizes you're laughing at her.

“Shut up,” your sister mutters, feigning a glare as she looks back at the doors. “It’s awfully exciting, isn’t it?”

You hope your sister enjoys herself. She is, after all, the only reason you agreed to go through with this sham wedding in the first place. Even as anxious as you were at the uncertain future lying ahead of you, you were content in the knowledge that at least she’d be taken care of once you were gone.

Seeds and machinery parts, as you’ve reminded yourself over and over again since the deal was struck.

You knew arranged marriages were common enough even in your own vault, but you’d always held out hope that you’d be one of the lucky few that got to marry for love. You supposed you were marrying for love in a roundabout way, just not the way you pictured. Still, there were very few things you wouldn’t do for your sister’s health.

A bitter feeling comes over you, but you try to shake it off. It's not their fault we almost starved: the vault's stayed separate for a reason, after all. Only ever for one of the rare trades between us were the doors ever opened, and it made you a little bitter knowing that Lucy's lack of marriage options was deemed important enough, when your people nearly starving to death was apparently deemed an acceptable loss.

You watch the inhabitants of vault 33 curiously, slowly taking in the sight of what’s probably the only people you’ll see for the rest of your life. As much as you’ll miss your family and everyone back home, at least you’d get to hear new stories for a while. Living in such cramped quarters as you do, you tend to learn everything interesting there is about a person entirely too quickly.

At least that was something to look forward to for a time.

You weren’t told what Lucy looked like, but you think you’d be able to pick her out of a crowd even without the wedding dress she was wearing. She was breathtaking, as much as it annoyed you to admit. You suppose you could have gotten paired with a worse partner, all things considered. At least she was nice to look at, even as you hoped she’d make a better conversation partner than she looked like she’d make.

She was practically glowing with excitement, nervously shifting on her feet in a way that you found endearing despite yourself. You took a moment to take her in, wishing you felt as self righteously angry as you did just ten minutes ago.

Lucy smiles as they go through the introduction before interrupting, "So, which one of you is to be my wife?" 

There's a moment of silence before there's some muffled snickering from both sides. You could tell it had taken everything she had in her to hold off as long as she did, a fact that shouldn’t have made you grin as widely as you did. You wipe the grin off your face as you slowly step forward. Lucy gasps, a faint blush covering her face as she takes you in.

"I suppose that would be me," you say softly, stepping forward past your other vault mates to meet her. Your hand twitches as you start to hold your hand out for her to shake it before thinking better of it. 

Is that the kind of reaction you should have to meeting your wife for the first time? You weren’t quite sure. It was sort of like a business deal, so you decided it probably would have been appropriate, anyway. Before you have the chance to rectify your mistake, Lucy’s already grabbing at your arm, leading you further into the vault while talking incessantly.

Oh, great. She’s a talker.

You nod along to her explanations, hoping to seem nice even if your gaze held disdain hidden beneath a polite smile. You try to give her an appropriate amount of attention while scanning your new surroundings as surreptitiously as you could manage. You've always been the curious type, and it has gotten you into trouble more times than you could count. 

It wouldn't do to be accused of casing the place before your vault’s future could be secured. Besides, this was your home now. First impressions are hard, or so you’ve heard. It’s not like you’ve ever had the chance to make one, but that’s what your books always said. Luckily for you, this is the last time you'll ever have to do it, once more for your forever home.

“It's a really nice place,” Lucy says suddenly, startling you from your reverie. She gives you a knowing look as she gives the open room a quick once over before meeting your eyes again. 

You're pleasantly surprised that she's figured your game out so quickly. You incline your head in acknowledgement, choosing not to comment on the skip in her step as she notices your approval. 

“Maybe I could give you the grand tour after everything,” she offers. 

You give her a wry smile, appreciating the sentiment even if you find her reasoning a little dumb. Your vaults were built to be exact copies of each other, after all. There's very little difference between them beyond surface level decorations, you're quite sure. Still, it was an olive branch you were willing to accept.

"That'd be nice," you say simply, offering her your hand as you let her lead you up to the altar.

You take your place across from her, listening idly as her father drones on. Duty to humanity this, returning to the surface that. You're oddly comforted by the familiarity of the refrain: at least some things would never change. Did the overseers learn their speeches from the same book? Someone ought to write them a new one. 

You focus your attention on Lucy, really taking in the sight of her, as she's only all too happy to return it. You can't help but stand a little straighter under her attention, a surge of pride rushing through you at the pleased look on Lucy's face as her eyes roam your body. 

Your smile fades slightly at the sight of her in her wedding dress, a silent reminder of everything you're giving up to come here. You were never all that excited about having to wear the community wedding dress for your own ceremony, but at least it would have been something you shared with your mother.

Instead, you were left only in your jumpsuit, and even that you'd have to return by the end of the night. It was the issue with marrying outside of your vault, after all. Nothing was allowed to leave it, not even the clothes on your back. 

Resources were tight enough in normal times, but with everything going on… Well, you made do with what you were given. 

You shake off your feeling of melancholy, returning Lucy's smile with a smaller, more forced one of your own. The least you could do is give your wife your full attention on her wedding day. 

Lucy's hands are warm as she reaches for yours, entwining your fingers together as she speaks her vows. You repeat the lines you've long since memorized, giving them special care as you speak them, if only for Lucy's sake. 

Lucy's eyes sparkle with happiness, looking as if it was everything she could do not to jump up and down in excitement. It was flattering, a lot more than you cared to admit. It's been quite a while since someone looked that excited to see you. 

Her smile is wide enough that you start to wonder if it hurts, but if it bothers her, it doesn't slow her down for a second as she moves forward to kiss you. You can feel her smile against your lips, never dimming for a second as she seals the deal. 

Your eyes are wide as she pulls away, a little lost as your thoughts jumbled together. Her lips were soft, at least. And she smells nice. You were embarrassed to find that the kiss had left you a little dumb, but you figured Lucy would have that effect on anyone. 

You can feel the thrum of her heartbeat where she's pressed up against you, her face resting in the crook of your neck as she throws her arms around you in a tight hug. Her cheeks are flushed with excitement, warm against your skin as she bounces on the tips of her toes.

She pulls away after a moment, still holding your hands together as she leads you down from the altar. You're happy to follow her lead, drunk on a feeling of levity you'd become unfamiliar with lately. 

There’s a small part of you, larger than you’re willing to admit, that wants to pull her into another kiss, but you restrain yourself. Out of everything you’d worried about, the thought of seeming too forward on your wedding day was not one of them.

“You’re really good at that,” she confesses in a whisper, verging on shy as she rests her head on your shoulder. 

You laugh quietly, nudging her head with your own. “Glad to be of service, wife.”

“Makes me wonder if you’re good at… other things.”

You exhale roughly, stunned, almost as if the breath was stolen from you. Lucy looks proud of herself, a smug smile that you can’t bring yourself to wipe away from her face. You clear your throat as you look away, your face flushed as you spin her under your arm. She giggles, swaying in time with the music as you come back together.

“You’re cute when you're flustered.”

“Yes, well…” You trail off. “You’re awfully pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”

Lucy shrugs, guilty as charged.

You try to think of something, anything, to say, but you keep coming up blank. This was exactly what you expected, and nothing like you expected at the same time. The decor, the people, the atmosphere were just what you imagined. But you don’t think anyone could have predicted Lucy MacLean. 

You’re almost relieved when her father comes over to take the next dance, handing her off with a small wave as you head over to the table. By the time you’re nearing the table, you could already hear your sister talking a mile a minute, eagerly taking in the sights of everything vault 33 had to offer. The blonde sitting next to her, who you think might be Lucy’s friend, shoots you a wide-eyed look as you collapse in your seat.

You leave her to her fate of entertaining your sister with a dry laugh, leaning down to inspect the scuff marks on your shoes. Lucy had many talents, it seems, except maybe dancing. You’re quick to turn your attention to the plate in front of you, no longer needing to worry about the state of shoes that will soon be taken from you.

With that happy thought in mind, you finally dig in, watching Lucy and her father dance out of the corner of your eye. You're surprised about how quickly she returns to join you, an eager look on her face the second she realizes she has your attention.

She seems to talk at you more than to you as she tells you about her life, but it doesn’t bother you much. You’re very content to listen to her ramble on, interjecting with relevant commentary whenever the time calls for it.

“History, huh?” You prompt. 

Lucy nods, resting her chin on her hands as she talks. “Yeah,” she says. “I just think there's a lot of things about the future you can learn from the past.”

“Like how to end civilization?” You joke, wincing as you realize what just left your mouth. 

Lucy frowns for a moment, taking in your expression before shrugging.

“That's not quite what I was going for,” she admits. “More like how to avoid making the same mistakes, you know? That sort of the thing.”

“Second time’s the charm, I suppose.”

Lucy snorts, covering her mouth sheepishly as she looks away. “Take it history was never your strong suit, then?”

Without waiting for a response, she leans closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And here was me, thinking you were the serious type.”

You gasp, leaning away from her with barely hidden amusement as you hold your hand up to your heart. “You wound me.”

“I think you'll live,” she comments wryly. “You wouldn't make me a widow before our wedding ends, would you?” Lucy pouts, making a show of sticking her lip out as she catches your eyes flicking toward the movement. 

“I think I can understand the draw of it. History, I mean. How often do you get to start again?” You muse, your voice soft and contemplative. You were drawing uncomfortable similarities to your own situation. 

“Besides,” you continue, quick to add some levity. “It's a lot more fun than fixing pipes.”

“Exactly!” Lucy exclaims, her eyes lighting up at your interest in the subject. “I mean, think about it–” 

“And your fertility tests?” A voice interjects suddenly.

You glance away, not hiding your shock as you meet her father’s eyes. “My…”

“Your fertility tests,” he repeats, a hint of irritation hidden behind his somewhat charming smile. His eyes flit between the two of you, betraying his intentions. He didn’t seem to like how much you were holding Lucy’s attention, it seemed. Curious.

“Daddy,” she says softly, her voice strained with embarrassment. A frown tugs at her lips, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. 

“What? It was, after all, the whole point of your marriage.”

Lucy winces, giving you an apologetic smile. Were you supposed to be offended at the lack of romance? It seemed par to the course, at this point. It was relaxing to have things back on track, just as you’d expected it to be.

You turn to face him, briefly mentioning the results of your tests with enough details to assuage him. He nods along as you speak, his expression neutral and unreadable. You’re sure he’s already seen everything he’d wanted to know, but you got the odd sense that he was reminding you of it. No, you think after a moment, watching Lucy’s face. 

He was reminding her.

You reach over to squeeze her hand reassuringly, surprising yourself as much as her. She lags behind for a second as she registers the gesture before returning it with a quirk of her lips. She leans closer toward you, a gleam in her eyes as she reaches over and stabs a fork full of food from your plate. She brings it to her lips with a mischievous smile, unaware of the way your body tenses in reaction before forcing yourself to calm down.

You catch your mother’s eye further down the table, watching the scene carefully before looking away. 

Meeting Lucy’s eyes again, you raise an eyebrow, stealing food back from her plate before she could stop you. She pouts, glancing down at her plate before nudging your leg with her foot under the table.

“We’re married now,” she complains. “Half of that is mine.”

“That means half of yours is mine too,” you point out. 

Lucy hums dismissively. “Technicality.”

“Is that right?” 

Lucy's about to answer as you feel a hand rest on your shoulder. Glancing up you see the Overseer standing behind you with a sad smile on his face. 

Was it time to return your meager belongings already? 

He nods at your questioning look, glancing over at Overseer MacLean, who stands up and walks away with the obvious intention of you following him.

“I'll do it,” Lucy says suddenly, grabbing you by the arm as she pulls you off in his direction. He waves Lucy on with a fond look, leaving you to her as he rejoins the table. 

You glance briefly at your surroundings as you trudge through the halls, each step feeling heavier than the last. The finality of the moment was really settling on you as you came to a stop in front of your new home.

“I thought it would be better if it was me,” Lucy says softly, a hesitant smile on her face. 

Stepping inside the room, you send her a confused look over your shoulder. “Why?”

“Why not? We're partners now.”

You stare down at the new outfit waiting for you on the desk, slowly running your fingers over the lettering. 33. Almost completely identical to the outfit you've worn every day of your life, but just different enough to give you pause. It was too late to back out now. 

“It's not like I know you either,” you say finally. 

Her face falls, but she tries not to show it, fiddling anxiously with her hands as she steps in behind you. You pause, your zipper coming to a halt as you purposely clear your throat. 

Lucy huffs. “Seriously?” She doesn't seem all that upset about it, more offended than anything. 

You give her an expectant look. She dutifully turns around, not without a murmured complaint. “You know we're married now?”

“You just want to see me naked,” you accuse idly, switching your clothes out as efficiently as you can manage. 

Lucy doesn't bother to deny it, making an affirmative noise that draws a chuckle out of you. God, you hated that she was growing on you. You wanted so badly to hate her, but she just made it so hard. 

“It's a time-honored tradition,” she insists playfully. 

“In the community wedding dress?” You question. 

“It's for the benefit of humanity that we reproduce as quickly as possible,” she states, almost robotically. You roll your eyes: you've read the same manuals, after all. 

“Though,” she continues thoughtfully. “I suppose it's not technically a requirement for us, specifically.”

“Huh…” You trail off hesitantly as a thought strikes you, not sure if you should be the one to say it. 

“What?”

“How long after your parents got married were you born?”

“About nine months,” she says hesitantly. The confused quirk of her head kills you inside, but you can't resist the urge to continue. 

“Wouldn't that mean you were probably conceived in that wedding dress, too?”

She takes a second to do the math as it suddenly dawns on her. Lucy pales, her hands gripping the fabric of the dress before her horrified eyes meet yours. “Why would you say that?” She whispers. 

You break into peels of laughter at the comment, and every time you manage to catch your breath, you catch sight of Lucy's still horrified face and start laughing again. Finally, Lucy cracks a grin, her eyes fixed on the mirthful look on your face. 

“You're prettier when you laugh. Did you know that?”

You almost choke as you process it, your laughter cut off by a sudden cough as you look down at the floor. As you sit down and start pulling your new shoes on, you can hear Lucy let out a laugh of her own, the sound marking her exit as it echoes down the hallway. 

… 

The room is nearly empty by the time you make your way back in. A few members of vault 33 are still mulling about but otherwise the room is eerily quiet. Overseer Jackson makes his way over to you, clasping a hand onto your shoulder as you hand over your suit. His hand lingers just long enough to be awkward before he pulls away, sniffling as surreptitiously as he can manage as he rubs at his eyes.

He’s teary-eyed as he stares down at you, his uncomfortably kind smile tinged with more sadness than you think he has a right to. You’re not sure you’ve ever had a conversation with him long enough to warrant this kind of reaction, but your vault mates have always had a tendency to overreact. There probably wasn’t much else to do after the monotony of daily life got to you, you figured.

Still, you weren’t keen to comfort a man you barely knew. Catching your mother’s eye you wave, pretending she was trying to get your attention as you excuse yourself from the conversation and leave him clutching on to your things. You’re not surprised when you catch sight of your sister’s grinning ear to ear as Lucy engages her in conversation, clearly over the moon to have her attention.

Yeah, you could relate to that.

You speak quietly to your parents as you make your goodbyes, choosing not to acknowledge the teary-eyed looks lest you start crying too. You’d made your peace with the idea of leaving everything behind a few days ago, but it seems like it was really starting to set in for them that they’d never see you again. For your sister too, it seems, as you suddenly feel her wrap her arms around your waist.

It takes an impressively long time to peel her off of you, and it’s only made possible with the help of Lucy’s gentle coaxing. You watch with nothing short of awe as Lucy manages to talk her down from her tears like it was nothing, her voice soft and soothing as she manages to effectively distract her long enough for you to escape her grasp.

Realizing she’s been played, your sister shoots Lucy a betrayed look, but she gets over it quickly enough as Lucy shoots her a playful smile. She kneels down to speak with her, whispering in her ear as she squeezes her shoulder.

You stand with Lucy as your parents cross through the gateway, watching as they try to comfort your sister in quiet, somber tones. 

“She really adores you, huh?” Lucy says softly, her hand tentatively reaching to rub at your back. The gate slowly starts to close, and your family slowly disappears from view with it.

“Do you like kids?” You ask, hoping for a distraction. “You seem to have a real knack for them.”

Lucy's quiet for a moment before nodding. “I like to teach, and kids always have such an interesting way of looking at things.”

She smiles, reaching over to hold your hand as she traces your fingers with hers. “We'll be starting our own family soon,” she muses. 

“Are you excited?”

“... Of course. It's our duty, after all.” You think it must be the most unenthusiastic thing you've heard her say all night. 

You pause, looking at her in a new light. She was doing her duty to ensure the future of humanity, after all, and you could respect that. You wondered how much of it was due to her moral compass and how much was just to live up to expectations, but you didn’t mind much.  It’s not like you didn’t have your own ulterior motives for agreeing to be wed, after all.

What a pair you made.

…

You stare at the door long after it's been closed for good, even after Overseer MacLean squeezed your shoulder was a surprising gentleness as he quietly left the room. He probably knew what it was like to leave his home behind. He was from vault 31, after all. 

Finally, you manage to turn your attention away from the door, turning around to see Lucy leaning silently against the doorway. You almost smile at the sight of her, your mood lightened as you realized she's been here waiting for you.

She's quick to grab your hand as you offer it to her, escorting you back through the vault towards your new home. Lucy's quiet as she leaves you to your thoughts, unsure of how to even begin to comfort you. 

Lucy's visibly startled as you squeeze her hand to get her attention, but she quickly recovers as you say, “So about that time-honored tradition…?”

Her face lights up, tightening her grip on your hand as she almost sprints down the hall towards your new bedroom. 

[queenxxxsupreme]

At the End of the World

(Cooper Howard x Reader)

A/N: I have no idea what is going to happen next ya’ll. I need to figure out what direction this shit is going in cause I’m so lost 😭

Warning: mentions of child death, mentions of panic attacks, nothing outside of canon

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: You open up to Lucy about your past. Here is Part 1 and here is Part 2

As you followed Cooper back down the hallway towards the kitchen, Lucy passed you both.

“We’re leaving soon, girly.” You told her.

“Okey-dokey! Just gonna get my things together really quick.”

Back in the kitchen, Alma was lighting herself a cigarette.

“Icy May said the girl is the daughter of a Vault-Tec big wig.”

”What’s it to you?” Cooper looked over to Alma.

“Cooper.” You said his name almost scoldingly. He didn’t need to be rude to Alma. She had been gracious enough to let the three of you stay the night.

His eyes flickered over to you. He took a puff of his cigarette, flicking the ashes into a metal pan on the table.

Lucy was just beginning to make her way back down the hallway when she heard her father’s name.

“She’s gonna be our key to get close to Hank MacLean.”

Lucy stopped, her brows furrowing together as she listened more carefully. What were they talking about?

“How do you feel about that, Icy?” Alma asked. There was no answer for a couple seconds.

“I’ve thought about killing her so many times, Alma. I-I lost my Grace and that bastard got to see his little girl grow up—,” You abruptly stopped talking.

Lucy took a step backwards. You had thought about killing her? Lucy couldn’t believe it. You had been so nice to her, so much more concerned about her than the Ghoul was.

***

”How do you feel about that, Icy?”

Your gaze found Alma. You were quiet for a few moments, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’ve thought about killing her so many times, Alma. I-I lost my Grace and that bastard got to see his little girl grow up and—,” You stopped yourself, shaking your head softly.

Alma watched you, a pitiful look twinkling in her eyes. She knew your story, had heard first hand from you the heartbreak and the horrors that you had had to face.

“But she doesn’t…. She doesn’t know about her father, Alma.” You pulled a chair out at the table and sat down in it. “Her vault believed they would be the ones to repopulate the earth, that they were the chosen ones…. She has no idea that he was instrumental in destroying the world.”

”Well, I’m sure she’s finding things out the hard way.” Alma sighed out.

As she left the room, Cooper tried to follow her, but you stopped him.

“Why won’t you tell me what Lucy said to you, Coop?”

He stopped in his tracks, shoulders falling slack as he let out a heavy breath. He adjusted his hat, tilting the brim down a little more to cover his face as he turned to face you.

“She, uh…. She asked if I loved you.” His voice was quiet.

You looked at him, almost shocked by what he was saying.

“If-If you…” You tried to repeat his words but they got caught in your throat.

In the two decades or more that you knew the ghoul, neither of you had spoken such words to each other. Maybe it was a little ridiculous that it hadn’t happened yet, but to share something so special, so beautiful in a world marred with death and destruction…. It felt wrong. It felt dangerous.

Cooper stood there for a few minutes, watching the wheels turn in your head. What were you going to say? How were you going to react? Now wasn’t the time to be discussing such things. Not in Alma’s kitchen, not while Hank MacLean was still stirring in the front of your mind.

“Why did you get so worked up over the question?” You murmured.

Still, Cooper was silent. He peered out from underneath his hat to meet your gaze.

“I reckon I don’t like her askin’ me questions like that, doll.”

You nodded your head gently. You stood to your feet and closed the space between the two of you. You messed with the lapel of his jacket, fingers gripping the old, worn leather.

“Don’t let that vault dweller get under your skin, old man.” A little smile tugged ever so slightly at the corner of your lips. “You got bigger fish to fry.”

A crooked grin crossed his features. His hand slipped around your waist to draw you closer to him.

“We better get this show on the road.” He dipped his head down to seal a kiss on your lips. You brought your hands up to his shoulder and the side of his neck, pulling him as close to you as possible. His hand on your waist moved around to your lower back, offering you support as he pushed even harder against your lips.

“Careful—,” You tried to speak but his mouth prevented you from doing so. “Easy-Easy…. Cowpoke.”

You pushed him back a little, giggling as he fought against you. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth and then your cheek and your temple.

“You’re kissing me hard enough to leave bruises, old man.”

”Just you wait ‘til we don’t have that vaultie to worry ‘bout.” He finally loosened his grip on you and adjusted his hat. “Bruises will be the least of your worries.”

”Oh, I’m shivering in my boots.” You teased him. “I’m going to go get our little vaultie.”

”You girls need to hurry up. We’re losin’ daylight.”

You slipped around him to go down the hallway and see where Lucy was.

“Are you ready to go, Lucy?” You poked your head into the room she had been staying in. She was in the corner of the room furthest from you, standing rigid with her arms by her side.

Your left eye picked up on her heart beating fast.

“What’s wrong?”

”You’ve thought about killing me?” She whispered.

Your shoulders fell. She had heard you. You let out a sigh, crossing your arms and leaning against the frame of the door.

“Yeah, I have.” You nodded. “Your father has done horrific things, Lucy.”

”No. No he hasn’t.” She firmly shook her head. “My father is a good man.”

”I don’t know how to get you to believe me. Vault-Tec, a company your dad works for, dropped the bombs. They killed so many people, Lucy.”

Still, she didn’t believe you. Her blue eyes stayed on you, brows furrowed together.

“Grief has a way of making you feel certain ways. Part of me has thought about killing you many, many times as a way to get to your father. But I wouldn’t hurt you.”

”I don’t believe you.”

You nodded your head gently.

“Either way, we need to get moving. Cooper’s an impatient man.”

Lucy crossed her arms.

”I’m not going anywhere.”

”You can do this my way— and come with us willingly —or Cooper will come in here and tie you up.” You turned and left the room.

***

For the first hour or so of your walk, none of you spoke.

Part of you felt bad. She had begun to trust you and you knew just how bad it felt to have someone you trusted betray you.

“I had to kill my husband, Lucy.” You spoke, making sure your voice was loud enough to hear from where she walked just ahead of you.

Upon hearing your confession, Lucy stopped walking so that she could fall in line beside you.

“Why?”

”It was just after the bombs dropped. We were barely making it. Everything…. It was so much worse then than it is now. I didn’t know the things I know now…. My husband’s name was Adrian. He, um, was affected by the radiation. No one knew what a ghoul was at that time. We had seen people around us turning, seen what they were capable of. There was no medicine to keep them from going feral…. We were staying at a camp just outside of Anaheim here in California. My husband and I…. We saw a mother who was affected by the radiation attack her own children.”

You paused to take a deep breath. You could still hear the sounds of her hissing and growling, the sound of her tearing her children into pieces.

“Adrian and I decided that we couldn’t stay there any longer. We didn’t know if it was some sort of sickness going around or what but…. We left the camp. A week later, my husband began to get worse. The coughing, the hissing….” Goosebumps rose across your skin as the memories echoed in your head. “He begged me to kill him. He-He didn’t want to hurt me or to hurt Gracie. At that point in time, I hadn’t killed anybody. Hell, I had never even thought about killing anyone. But my Adrian was my first.”

”Icy, I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, blinking quickly to get rid of the tears in your right eye.

“Shortly after that happened, Vault-Tec found me. They put my girl in a cryochamber and started their little experiments. Took almost everything on my left side. My eye, my arm, my lung, my leg…. All of it is what they called cybernetic. After they were done, they threw me in one of those chambers too.”

”How did you get out?”

You took a deep breath.

“The vault the chambers were being kept in was raided. Me and my daughter barely escaped. That was about twenty years ago, give or take a few.”

“You don’t look that old,”

”Whatever they did to me, it slowed down my aging.”

”And your daughter? What happened to her?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. It took you a while to be able to say it out loud.

”Icy.” Cooper’s raspy voice came from behind you. You came to a stop, eyes dead set on the vast emptiness ahead. “Your heart’s beatin’ too fast.”

He knew you were about to talk your way right into a panic attack.

”I’m okay.” You took a deep breath once, twice, then three times. You needed to regain control of yourself.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Lucy shook her head.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” You insisted. “We need to keep moving.”

”We’ll make camp tonight and tomorrow, we should be passing through Bolder some time in the morning.” Cooper looked to Lucy and nodded his head in the direction that the three of you had been walking. “Get movin’, vaultie.”

Lucy gave you one last glance before she started walking.

“Come on, doll.” Cooper reached out to put his hand on your back, offering you support through the small touch.

”Don’t treat me like I’m crazy, Cooper.”

”I ain’t treatin’ you no way. Just don’t want to see you get yourself all worked up. You’ll start hyperventilatin’ and then you won’t be able to breathe right. You’ll fuck yourself up for the rest of the day with that iron lung of yours.”

You said nothing.

***

Later That Night

Cooper stood in the doorway of the rundown shack the three of you were staying the night in. He leaned against the worn wood, a cigarette perched between two fingers while his eyes scanned the Wasteland before him.

It was dark out, but every so often the clouds would part enough for the moon to shine its light over the emptiness.

The Ghoul glanced down, watching the ashes from his cigarette fall to the ground.

Movement behind him made him turn his head. Lucy was awake. She glanced over to him momentarily.

”Can’t sleep.” She said, pushing herself to her feet.

”Welcome to the club.” Cooper placed his cigarette between his lips.

Lucy slipped past the ghoul, who watched her carefully. What was she doing? Surely she wouldn't try to make a run for it, not with him watching her.

Cooper’s hand found the rope hanging on his hip. He was ready to use it if need be, but the Vault Dweller sat down on the side of the hill that led up to the shack.

She pulled her knees loosely to her chest and looked up at the sky.

Cooper took the cigarette out of his mouth, blowing smoke through his nose.

“I never knew the stars could be so pretty.” Lucy commented.

Cooper said nothing, not that she expected him to.

Silence fell between them. The only sound that could be heard was the breeze blowing through the few trees around the shack.

“I’m sorry about earlier.” Lucy apologized.

“Don’t worry about it.” The ghoul muttered.

“How did you meet Icy?”

Cooper finished his cigarette, throwing the end of it onto the ground.

“You just like to yap, don’t you?”

Lucy looked away from him.

He stood there for a few moments, debating on whether or not to entertain the vault dweller.

What the hell.

Cooper moved to sit down, putting plenty of space between himself and Lucy.

“‘Bout twenty years ago, there was a bounty put out for her.”

”What was the bounty for?”

”Didn’t say, but she said it was Vault-Tec. They wanted her back, I reckon, ‘cause of whatever science experiments they were doin’ with her. The bounty notice didn’t say anything about the little girl travelin’ with her.”

”Grace.” Lucy murmured.

“If anyone had gotten their hands on Icy for that bounty…. who knows what would’ve happened to Grace.” Cooper pulled out a carton of cigarettes and took another cigarette out. “So I agreed to help get them across the Wasteland. West of here was a city many considered a refuge. Icy just wanted me to take her and her little girl there.”

Lucy watched as the ghoul’s face lit up as he put the flame of the lighter beneath his cigarette.

“We got a day or so into the trip when we came across this run down dumpster of a place. It was an old trader’s post turned into a little village but the folks who lived there had long since disappeared. What we didn’t know was that a paranoid fella had set up shop. Littered the whole place with traps and trip lines. Grace got ahead of us. Icy saw the line she was about to run into and…. Well, there wasn’t much that could be done after that.”

“Oh my gosh.” Lucy whispered.

Cooper could still feel the way you had gripped him so tight as he shielded you from your daughter.

“I can’t…. I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose your family like that.”

Cooper flicked his cigarette, shaking his head gently.

“Ain’t a feelin’ I’d wish on my worst enemy, vaultie.”

Lucy looked over to him, eyebrows drawn together just slightly. That was perhaps the first time she had seen something in his eyes that resembled humanity.

Taglist: @green--beanie @mack-attack420 @miniemonie2001 @eykismyfav @fallout-girl219 @msrawog @midwesternwitchery @classaysstuff @keyofgigi @sunnexaltation @ghcstvibess @jayden-okayden @grippleback-galaxy

(I’m so sorry if I missed anyone, and tumblr was being stupid and wouldn’t let me tag a couple of you :()

[fraugwinska]

DoubleTrouble No. 2 - Missionary Impossible

Yes, we did Team up again - the wonderful @macabr3-barbi3 and my humble self wrote another DoubleTrouble fic, based of a hilarious FranticFanfic game result (If you are a writer and have some friends who also indulge in fanfiction, check the game out: www.franaticfanfic.com - Your throat will hate you but the laughter makes it worth it!)

This time we give all of you Vox Lovers a real Treat! Mine is the Readers POV, while Barbie provided Vox's POV - get the TV's dirty version right here.

And now, without further ado:

Explicit Sexual content - Minors DNI - 18+ - 6.5k words

You had to admit: Breaking into Lucifer’s personal vault was your boldest and most impressive job yet. You had your concerns - normally you didn’t take jobs that seemed too shady or downright wrong to you - but you didn’t steal anything powerful, just a bottle of his vanished wife’s perfume. You shake your head at the memory. Most certainly one of her many, still very active superfans, kind of icky to be honest. But money talks, and boy did that client talk.

The only downside had been that for the first time, the 666 Evening News had a picture of you.

Granted, blurry, obstructed and absolutely not usable at all - but it still irked you to no end. They didn’t call you the ‘Traceless Thief’ for nothing.

But even though no one was more the wiser about your identity, even though Lucifer begrudgingly stopped looking for witnesses, even though the gossip on the streets about speculations who the Traceless Thief could’ve been died down - ever since that night, you felt like you were being watched.

The next jobs you take go without news coverage and media attention, and yet, you grow more and more paranoid. Hell has many eyes - figuratively and literally - and you feel them all on you. But there is work to be done and a living to be earned - and the tiny alibi antique bookshop you keep definitely doesn’t provide. No one sane wants old shit in hell - and the rare specimens that do and visit the dingy little space under your apartment come and go, disappointed in the stock you barely keep.

Which is fine by you - you only really need it for one thing. The PO Box.

The wonderfully boring, uninteresting PO Box of the ‘Dusty Pages’ bookshop was your portal to the real money. Hell had become a lot better the day you mastered the powers the underworld granted you: No physical barrier could contain you. Being intangible granted you freedom, and to return to the profession you were best in: Stealing Shit.

Of course, noble causes like overturning corrupt governments by breaking into officials homes and publishing their many crimes was still stealing, if you ask heaven that is, and it landed you in hell. You gave up being salty about it, and made the best out of the situation.

“Hey Frankie. How’s the wife?” The post office clerk, a grumpy looking crocodile in an ill-fitting checkered suit huffs.

“Still fucking annoying, as always. Each day I’m getting closer to bribing an exterminator to kill the bitch just to shut her up for good.”

You chuckled, leaning on the counter and tapping your fingers on the scratched wood.

“Aw, did you burn the meatloaf again? You know Alice hates that.” Frankie gives you an exasperated look, which you meet with a mocking grin.

“You want something? Except for getting on my nerves?”

You shrug, twirling a tiny key on a string around your finger. Frankie, and by proxy Alice too, were parts of your harmless, boring, inconspicuous appearance. Just a normal young sinner, just a normal errand to run, keeping normal small talk with the clerks.

“Just checking my PO Box. I’m waiting on a few rare books I ordered to restock.”

“Uh-huh. Tell someone who gives a shit.”

The crocodile turns away, adjusting his small, round reading glasses and eager to ignore you. Perfect.

“Always nice to chat with you, Frankie.” you say and saunter over to the little door with the number 13. The quiet click always sounds satisfyingly like a little exclamation of joy and like cashflow, and under the ‘Old Crap & Thingamajigs’ catalog you found what you were hoping for. A thick envelope and a letter - new jetstream-bathtub, here you come.

God, why were the VoxTech maintenance uniforms so fucking skimpy?

You grumble silently, cursing yourself that you haven’t grabbed the male one. But that would’ve been suspicious, and you couldn’t afford to be suspicious today. Not if you want to get the job done and live to tell the tale. 

The Vee Tower is full of cameras, hundreds of tiny, red blinking lights next to crystal clear lenses, and dead spots were hard to find and a rare occasion. So, when you couldn’t shift through the walls, you had to look like you belonged. And apparently, a fucking laced, black mini-skirt and a top with puffy sleeves that looked more like a fetish bralette was what it took to ‘belong’. The whole point was blending in, not being remembered - and all the female employees from cleanup and maintenance looked the exact same as you. So, unless one was walking around with a bag full of personnel files on hand, you looked like anyone else on this floor.

You stepped into the elevator, the keycard your client had sent you along with the money and initial job offer in hand. Wherever that person got those precious credentials, you were grateful for them because it gave you an easy way to bypass all the layers of security that VoxTech imposed. All that hassle for an incriminating photo.

You sighed when you pressed the button to floor 66, where the CEO of VoxTech enterprises had his private apartment. Vox.

The name was even more intimidating than Lucifer's to you. While the king of hell was aloof, inactive, disinterested in the ongoings of hell, Vox was the absolute opposite. He knew every little secret. VoxTech had millions of eyes and ears. It was a well known fact that he kept his all-seeing spycams on the whole pentagram and his pliant audience in his steely grasp. Always on top of the times, on top of the news, on top of the sales and on top of any business, shady or not, in hell. In the eyes of the citizens of the Pride Ring, Vox and his partners Valentino and Vevette owned practically everything. He had the largest audience in the history of hell, the sharpest wit and the keenest, calculating eye on the prize - a charming manipulator that was considered very much dangerous and not to be underestimated. Which is why you had to plan your gig for a time you were certain he wasn't around.

A shame really - you couldn’t deny, despite his ruthlessness and questionable business practices with which he had built his empire, you kind of admired the self-made TV-demon that rose to overlord status and made quite a big name for himself in stellar time. That, and he was nice to look at too, even with a flatscreen for a head. Oh well.

The ding of the elevator brought you back to the job at hand, and with confident steps, you glanced up and down the corridor. There were a few cameras pointed to the apartment door, but you found a dead spot not far off, and with a content smile, you walked over as if to inspect the carpet, just to shift as you were out of the camera's angle, your body transpiring through the wall, and with a quiet thud, you were inside.

That was the moment the lights went out.

A power outage was the last thing you had expected - in the Vee Tower of all places. The one place in hell that burst with electricity, and you would laugh at the irony if you weren't so tense. The timing is suspicious,and with a beating heart you shuffle forward, trying to phase through the nearest wall.

What the fuck?

You furrow your brows and huff, irritated. The wall is - well, a wall, and while that was a normal state for others, for you? Unimaginable. Your hands are resting against the concrete and steel, normally easy peasy to walk through. But you feel the hardness under your fingertips, much more intense than it should and almost stinging.

Conventional route it is, then, you think begrudgingly and slowly make your way through the corridor, listening into the stillness of the apartment. The corridor led into a spacious living room - flat, modern couches that screamed money and luxury arranged in a half circle, surrounded by various screens, all turned off. In the middle you see the outlines of a metallic, lavish coffee table, empty and clean like in a catalog. It was the kind of space that wasn’t really meant to be lived in, but to show just how much you had that you didn’t really need. A show.

You scanned the room. There was an open arch leading into a kitchen - also polished and top notch empty, not the cluttered mess you had in your apartment - and a closed, narrow door, likely a storage room. But at the opposite end of it, you see a faint, blue stripe of light, teal blue, luring you towards it. A night light maybe, or some indirect mood lighting shit that was all the rage since LED’s hit the Pentagram a few years ago, shining through a cracked door. Intentionally inconspicuous, your brain whispers, but anything was better than the dim darkness you were stumbling in now. 

When you reach the glowing gap and peek cautiously into the adjacent room, one hand almost on the handle, a groan makes you freeze before you could register what you are looking at.

Oh satan.

Vox.

A LOT of Vox.

The overlord was fucking home, and not just that. In his bedroom - your target location - naked, an impressive and glowing cock in hand, working himself in a way he would definitely not appreciate anyone seeing him in. You felt your neck and cheeks flush with heat - another thing you did not expect nor calculate for. But you can’t look away - as surreal and absolutely dangerous this situation is - his deliciously large hands and the sheer sight of his luminous length glistening with precum as he strokes himself cuts your breath short with highly inappropriate lust. The screen in front of him was bright, and for a moment, you were so enraptured with him that you didn’t recognize the silhouette he was pumping himself to.

You.

It’s you.

In this ridiculous maid costume that was unconsciously riding up your ass, sneaking through the corridor, not even half a minute ago. With growing horror you watch yourself taking tentative steps through the living room, the you on the screen hesitating before deciding to move to the left, one arm reaching out to a cracked open door.

“Fuck, yes.”

The words were barely said when your brain kickstarts.

Fuck, no.

He knew. He knew you were here.

In a flight of panic, you bolted for the corridor, back to the door, back to the safety of not-fucking-here, but you couldn’t even make four steps before your wrists were bound by cables shooting out of the walls surrounding you. You ready yourself to slip through them, but again, your powers leave you high and dry again. Helpless, you back away into the nearest wall, and the door opens fully, with the TV demon standing in the frame. Tall, intimidating even butt-fucking-naked, and a cocky smile on his HD face.

“Hello, my dear,” he almost coos and takes a few steps towards you as you writhe in the restrictions, desperately trying to slip out and get the fuck away. “I’m so glad you got my invitation!”

“Invitation?” That makes you still against the cables, your eyes darting over his face, confused. What the hell does that mean? You weren’t invited, you had a job to... Oh. Oh shit.

“You’re the client?”

His face was answer enough, and you would have slapped yourself for your stupidity if he hadn't had you in an iron grip. A loud game-show ding startles you back into the here and now, he was so much closer than before…

“Sure thing, doll! How else was I supposed to catch a slippery little thing like you without scaring you off?”

He traces his fingers down your cheek, his tips sparking with static electricity. How fucked up are you that this turns you on? Not being able to suppress the need to glance at his still shining and ripped cock again, you swallow hard. Where is your sense of self-preservation? Apparently left outside of this apartment, along with your usual foresight and dignity.

Cables wrap around your thighs and with a yelp you feel yourself getting lifted, legs parted by the wires. You almost topple over but are caught by his hands on your arms and faced with a smirk when you press your back into the wall, stabilizing yourself with a reddened face.

“Those didn’t come with the uniform,” He has the audacity to wink at you, nudging to the black lace panties you wear - excuse a girl for not wearing granny panties in the workplace - and you want to retort something snarky to him, when he looks at you that way. 

Within a moment, you realize two things.

Firstly, with the way he was roaming your body, his eyes lingering not only on your face, but your tits and the flimsy underwear concealing your very obvious wet arousal - you were fucked one way or the other. Which should’ve terrified you. Emphasis on ‘should’.

Because the other thing was, that even though he had bound you, even though you were at the mercy of this powerful sinner who tricked and trapped you here, rendering your power useless with whatever-the-fuck… he didn’t seem malicious, but rather… curious? Fascinated? Playful? You can’t really pinpoint it, but something tells you that - if you play your cards right - you might get more out of this make-pretend job than a jetstream-bathtub and hopefully all your limbs intact. And most importantly - you have nothing to lose.

“They're from my personal collection - lucky coincidence that they match the overall vibe of your staff's... uniform." It takes a lot to steady your voice as you talk, with the way his clawed hands run along the insides of your legs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

He cocks his brow, as if he's pleasantly surprised, and licks his lips before he answers, his voice sultry and dripping of sexual tension.

"Mh... Luck favors the prepared, I always say. Oh, and speaking of slippery and prepared, sweetheart..."

You gasp as you feel the soft fabric being pushed aside and long fingers running lightly through your drenched folds. Fuck, you can already tell just how skilled those fingers must be. How great they'd feel deep inside you. Involuntarily, you buck your hips to guide them to where you wanted them most - onto your clit and burrowed to his knuckles - the desperation just dripping from you as he chuckles and lets his thumb glide over the throbbing pearl teasingly teasingly as he pushes one of his digits in. Your head rolls against the wall behind you with a needy moan escaping your lips and you have to bite them to stay focussed for what you were about to do.

"What a sight. You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment, doll, seeing you all desperate and fucking..."

The rest of his sentence died in his throat, replaced by a low, long and stuttering moan. Half shocked, half aroused, he looked down to his throbbing cock, then his head snapped up to you, grinning down on him. You moved your hips again, grinding down on his unmoving fingers, frozen in place at his confusion, confirming your suspicion that he didn't know about your other power. Not as strong as your intangibility, sure, but strong enough for him to feel - and see - the ghostly hand you envisioned around his dick, continuing what he started, pumping him in leisurely, slow strokes. 

"Didn't know about that move, doll." His hand comes alive again, and even though his voice glitches a bit he adds another one, much more tenderly and almost softly, properly prepping you. And judging by the circumference of the cock you feel through your spectral hand, it was more than precaution, but nothing less than a mercy. Mercy you were ready to beg for, given his thumb would continue the delicious circles it drew, just the right pressure, just the right pace to push you near the edge without tipping you over it.

"You're just a whole mystery, huh?"

Now fairly certain your head wouldn't roll at the end of this encounter, you let your last reservations slide. It has been too long since you were in the hands of a skilled lover, one that didn't disappoint, that didn't come too soon or drilled amateurishly into you in search for the g-spot they never found. This one knew what he was doing, finally, and by satan you wouldn't waste this opportunity. Make it a night to remember, and who knows? If you fuck his brains out, maybe he'd be knocked out long enough after for you to make a quick and easy exit. You imagined the spectre hand to twist, its thumb mapping the soft ridges around the crown. That seems to do the trick for Vox, and the look he shoots you deeply satisfies. "Fuck me, that's good."

Playing into this sentiment, you didn’t stifle the moans his damn fingers stroke out of you, the way they glide in and out, pressure on all the right marks without fail is too good to hold back. Your skin felt on fire, even without him touching anything but your pussy, and you felt no energy left to care that your clothes - if you would call them that - seemed to fall apart on your body, skirt pushed up to your waist, top loose around your shoulders and almost down enough to let your boobs fall out. You must look a mess, but then again the overlord didn’t seem to mind - quite the contrary. He looked outright hungry, eyes glitching occasionally with a particular squeeze of your hand or a poignant lustful moan from your lips.

“Do you have to concentrate to do that?”

“A little.”

His fingers hitting that one sweet spot inside you, cutting any other, more elaborate explanation short. Fucking hell, that you had to get tricked and trapped by an overlord to find a man that doesn’t think ‘foreplay’ is the interview before a soccer game was a fucking travesty. Grateful for that fact you withdraw from your own pleasure and decided to reward him, regaining your concentration enough to imagine a second hand to pay attention to the firm, very plump balls of his, rolling them in its palm and giving them a gentle, tentative squeeze.

“Cool party trick though, isn’t it?”

As if you challenged him, there’s a subtle change in his demeanor - his eyes more inquisitive, his fingers more eager and fervent, and a third one joined the others, stretching you oh-so-deliciously. For a moment you think you’d lose control, the ghost hands flickering before you got a grip on them again, determined to not tip the scales so soon. But you had to admit - it was tempting, to give into this implied command: Submit, let me take care of you, let me fuck you dumb.  

Little did he know, you were all about equality - or nothing at all. And if he was allowed to plow you with three fingers, surely he couldn’t protest against a third hand.

You weren’t sure how you’d manage it… the power was new, still waiting to be mastered, but you willed a third hand into reality, joining the one on his balls, softly working their way down and massaging his perineum. It strained you to no end, operating the conjured hands while Vox was adamant to make you cum on his fingers alone, but with how the cables shook and loosened around you, you were fairly certain it was enough to show him you meant business, your message clear: If anything, baby, we will fuck each other dumb. 

You watch with almost painful arousal how his screen flashes from the three-way-stimulation, his teeth slightly baring from the sensation but without losing his cocky smirk, as if to show his resilience.

"You'd be the life of any party I know, sugar, if you can pull shit like this out your sleeve."

With a wince from you, he pulled his fingers out, leaving you gaping, empty and fucking whining at the loss, eyes sharp and with a dangerous glint in them. "But you're not the only one with a few secret talents."

He kneels down then, opens his mouth, and you can't believe your eyes as a thick, long, very analog blue tongue unfolds and licks his lips hungrily and almost impatiently. A hand around each thigh spreading you almost impossibly wide, the hot breath feels chilling against your slick opening, and a brush of the tip of his tongue on your swollen clit makes your toes curl and your muscles tense with expectation. Your gaze, locked with his, breaks only when your head throws back and you moan out his name as he truly begins to eat you out. 

No teasing or games, no building up the tension - it's unmerciful, frenetic, his tongue alternately flickering on your clit with its pointed tip and pushing deep into your core with an almost unbearable thickness until there was no space left to be filled, tasting every little centimeter inside. Instinctively, your real hands twitch in their restraints, wanting to reach out, grab his head, the frame of his screen, fucking anything really just to have something of him to hold onto and push. Your hips can't hold still, but he made sure not to lose an inch as his hands gripped your ass down and into him as if he heard your thoughts, drawing you deeper into his maw as he devours you. Your spirit hands fade in and out, your mind unable to keep them steadily corporeal - he was too good, his tongue was too good, not once did his rhythm falter nor the damn thing slow down, giving you no chance to collect yourself.

Finally - oh god finally - his cables loosened enough for you to dart your hands towards him, finding a saving anchor on his arms. You literally felt like you were drowning - wet and out of breath, senses fogged by that wonderfully violent tongue swiping and licking and prodding and fucking pulsing. When he hummed into your cunt, all dams broke, and you could only stutter “fuck, cumming - oh my God-” before you snapped and you fell into the depths of your orgasm.

Whatever prick, mouth or fingers you had on and in you before - this erased them all. Never before felt your head so light, your cunt so heavy and hell so divine.

His relentless licks make you mewl with every stroke as he rides you through your high, but he just doesn’t stop. Greedy, rawing your abused cunt to a point where moans turn into almost pained whimpers and your body twitches and squirms, begging for him to relent.

Mercifully he understands, and when he stands up, you only passingly realize with a pang of bad conscience that your spectre limbs have dissipated somewhere along the line, leaving him high and dry - only metaphorically, because his cock was soaked in leaking cum.

He hooks your legs over his arm, his other snaking around your waist to lift you from the wall, and you made no motion to resist it, being that the prospect of his soft sheets on his bed were much more preferable than color-coated concrete on your back. The short walk over feels like the eye of the storm - a short illusion of a safe space, and you use it to assess the damage.

For one - the ‘clothes’ you wore were useless now, they did nothing clothes were supposed to do - The sleeves were half-ripped from the bralette, hanging by a thread, and the top itself so far down your tits were fully out, nipples dark and flushed, while the skirt was nothing more than a drape at this point, hiding the mess on your thighs and reddened, puffed lips.

Then you look up through your lashes, up to the best lay you ever had, down below as well as up above. You should plan your escape, should use the time you had now to calculate what to do to get the fuck out while you could - Instead your horny little fucked-up brain was busy imagining how you could draw this out, make him so pussydrunk he’d send another decoy job weekly, just so you could return to that magic tongue again and again.

You were right. The sheets felt soft and obscenely expensive. You spread your fingers, the only real motion you were still able to make for now, taking his roaming gaze and the appreciative expression on his screen as a badge of honor. Your senses tingled, and you blinked one, two times, listening into your powers. The walls of his apartment were prepped by him to prevent you from leaving - electricity most likely, something intangible itself - but the ceiling and floors weren’t.

“Got another round in you, baby?”

You look up to him as he wraps your legs around his waist,lining himself up to you, tip ready and loaded. But he doesn’t push in. He waits, and you could cry as he does so.

Fucking hell, the ruthless media overlord half of hell fears to the point they piss themselves is waiting for your consent.

It’s this unexpected, contradictory duality that draws your lips into a smile. Trapping you in his territory, able to kill you with his goddamn pinkie, and yet the only thing he does is make you cum on his mouth and wait for a ‘yes’ to fuck you mindless - how could you not fall for that? Even more, how could you not test your luck with that?

With regained strength you reach for his dick, fingers wrapping firmly around his girthy base. His body follows your gentle guidance, and he lets himself glide into your ready heat with a groan that sends a shiver down your spine - such an earnest sound it makes you want to return the favor tenfold. And you just knew the way you could.

“You don’t need to worry about my stamina,” Voice like honey, you refocus your mind, visualizing the wicked idea that had entered your mind.

A soft hand. Long, flexible fingers, slick and smooth and ready. It formed as you thought it, stroking the cleft of his ass, halting at the tight ring of muscle it found, testing his reaction with a teasing, light press against his opening.

The reaction was priceless. Face glitching, hips jerking violently forward into you as its fingers pass his entrance and slide into him, coming to a halt at that one, very sensitive spot. His breath is ragged and eyes fucking wild, but the way he bends down, gripping your hands to entangle them with yours and pressing as much midnight-blue skin against yours tells you that he doesn’t exactly hate it.

“Worry about your own,” you whisper against the skin of his chest, grinning at the way he shudders at the sultry tone of your voice and the challenging eyes of yours, hilted in your pussy still, taking the ghostly fingers like a good boy.

“Whatever you did to your apartment, you only did it to the walls - the floor is fair game - ah fuck-”

He found some of his senses back, his thrust surprising your nerves with a sudden jolt of electricity - added by him or imagined by you, you can’t tell. He fills you so perfectly, as if molded just for you, big and hard and absolutely sublime, and when he brings his knees up more and bends you at the waist he manages to push in even deeper, pounding almost at your cervix with increasingly feverish, tough thrusts. Again, he wanted to break your concentration, but this time, you were prepared. You let your body do what you trained it to do - it goes hazy, misty, almost translucent in a blue-ish hue, revealing the vision of his buried prick deep inside you, teal glow in navy mist, before you solidify again and find the strength to grin up at him.

“If you cum before I do, I’m out of here.”

There was a wicked glint on that screen of his, and he upped the pace of his snapping hips, pressing you deeper into the mattress.

"Guess you'll have to move in then, baby." His voice sounds almost distorted, his body starts to spark with fizzing bolts of electric energy, and when he grips the headboard with one hand to gain more momentum to fuck even faster and stronger into you, you almost want to take him up on that quip, convinced his apartment was equipped with more than just a boring jetstream hot tub.

Your spirit fingers stroke in a come-hither motion over his prostate, over and over, varying in pressure, intensity and speed, and each swipe makes him moan a little louder, driving his dick a little deeper into you. It's becoming a race towards a finish line none of you wanted to get to in the first place, a fight of wills and bodies, pushing you to your limits judging by the way your oversensitive pussy clenches, begging for release once more. But by Satan himself you did not intend to lose without a good fight, your fingers raking over his lithe back and the sharp edges of his body, lingering, scraping, writing wordless praises into his skin in red streaks.

“In fact, sweetheart,” he says as he pounds you and your pants become out even louder, “I’ll make you cum so hard you don’t want to leave - you’ll scream my name so loud they’ll hear you down in Wrath, know exactly where you’ll be living from now on.”

Vox, too, is close, you can see it, hear it, most importantly feel it. One hand remaining on the headboard, the other scoops you up by your neck, pulling you onto his face in a kiss so breathtaking and fierce you almost pass out. It's sloppy and lustful, it's lips against lips and tongue on tongue, and your ability to use either becomes redundant when you and him both simultaneously cry out, orgasms overlap and intertwine, you cunt clenching tightly around his pulsating length, sending spurt after spurt of hot cum into you as your own release drips onto the soaked sheets below. Your eyes roll back, the fingers buried inside his tightened ass vanish and your muscles relax. With his hand still on your neck, claws digging into your skin, he slowly brings you back onto the mattress to let you fall together with him.

Silence settles for a second. A brief moment of stillness and clarity, sweat cooling your skin, hearts slowing down and breathing returning to normalcy. You feel the aftermath of his touches everywhere. His marks litter you from top to bottom: Your wrists and thighs are covered in red streaks from the tightness of his cable bondage. Your whole skin tingles from the waves of his inherent electric current. But most telling of all was the pooling mess inside of you, already leaking.

You let yourself feel the weight of his body on yours - it's an intoxicating feeling, the heat radiating off his dark blue skin, and the subtle charge beneath, a hidden hum underneath your fingertips, telling of the immense power of an Overlord you just let fuck you senseless. Now would be the time to run - his screen was completely blue, turned off while he recovered his breath - if you wanted, you could disappear, and he wouldn't be able to stop you or track you down. But when you searched the depths of your mind and body for regret and the sense of danger it brought - there was none. Only satiated warmth, an afterglow you could bathe in, like a warm, healing balm, easing your aching bones and bruised skin.

And just in that moment of resolve, Vox’s screen returned to show his face, and he lifted his head slightly to look at you with eyes as bright and vivid as the neon signs lighting up the streets of the entertainment district outside his windows.

One Month Later

“Thanks babes, I was about to lose my shit when Velma and Kelly fucking quit on me. Bunch of pussies, those two, seriously.”

You shoot Velvette a smile over your shoulder, adjusting the last couple of details on six of her girls, ghostly blue hands hovering around them - clipping a collar here, buckling a shoe there. You pity the two foolish girls - the runway show had Velvette occupied tonight, but tomorrow - well, you were sure Vel was about to annihilate their sorry stylist asses for blowing her off last minute… and not just with a snarky post on Sinstagram.

“No problem, Vel, that’s what I’m here for.”

The small woman laughs sarcastically, but not in the usual mean way, but a playful one, a friendly one. That was one of the things you could pride yourself on - That Velvette, social media queen and judge of what’s hot and not, fell in love with you almost as fast and hard as Vox did.

“Darling, we both know that no one really knows what exactly Vox hired you for. What was the job description he pulled out of his flat ass again?” she raises a cocky brow, sipping obnoxiously on her iced coffee to go in her hands, holding out another, identical one for you. “Ah, yes, ‘ASS’.”

You take the drink from her, smiling mischievously back at her. When Vox came up with that title, he didn’t even notice the ambiguity of its abbreviation, and you let him stew over it for almost a day before you told him, silently convinced your fingers left a memorable impression. “It’s ‘Administrative Services Specialist', and what can I say? My resumee was very convincing.”

Velvette snorts into her vanilla foam. “Funny name for your cunt love, but you do you. Now shoo. Didn’t you and flatface have a date tonight?”

You wave her a quick goodbye, sipping up the cold drink in one gulp and throwing it into the trash as you bypass it, hurrying down the hall and plucking the private keycard from your back pocket. You scan it at the elevators, noticing the other employees backing away from you, and you couldn’t hide the grin that flashed your face. No one dared to ride in that elevator with you, a very badly kept secret that it sent you one way straight to Vox’s apartment, and every one of them would rather chew glass than be caught by whatever awaited the opening elevator doors.

And Vel was right - you had a date with Vox, a special one at that.

Barely three weeks ago you actually did move in - call it a whim of insanity, call it fate - and since that, your days were filled with a job in the Vee Tower that you actually liked (no one shed a tear at the ‘Dusty Pages’ closure notice) and the nights were spent naked, sweaty and blissfully explicit under, on top and any other possible way with Vox in his bed. You learned something new about yourself - with the right partner, you were almost insatiable. Another thing you learned was that Vox seemed to feel just the same. Lucky coincidences indeed.

But date night was something special. Giving up the alibi bookshop was easy enough - but you were adamant that you still wanted to do your other jobs.

Not because of the money - Vox provided generously, and wouldn’t take a cent from you (although you managed to convince him to let you buy him at least snacks and small gifts, an exception you abused to the absolute limit). No, you actually liked to sneak through the night, liked the thrill of moving in the shadows and shifting through secured buildings. Liked the excited arousal you felt after a completed heist.

To preserve your secret, you and Vox decided that you wouldn’t reveal your main power to the others at Vee Tower, the only other people who knew were Velvette and Valentino.

The latter wasn’t your biggest fan, and who could blame him, giving that you were living with  and fucking his ex-lover, but he had his own flings and things to take care of, and after a few occasions where you stepped in to help him out at shoots and with his scripts, he at least became cordial towards you.

But date night was where you went out to do a job, secured through Vox for one of his many business partners, and the pool of people the TV demon had on hands that needed or wanted something of value was a bottomless pit from which you could choose the ones you liked the best. And your digital lover not only organized your gigs - he became your eyes and ears, your literal partner in crime.

The doors open, and Vox stands waiting, leaning, in the doorway, arms crossed and a grin on his face.

“You’re late, doll.”

“I know I know, but Vel needed some helping hands - you know I can’t leave her hanging.”

“Oh, I saw.”, he chuckles, his screen switching from his face to images of you from the security cameras on Velvettes floor, close ups of your face, your tits and ass sprinkled in between. ”You know I can never see enough of you, gotta keep those cameras on.”

You scoffed, but did so with a smile before you kissed him and ran off into the closet, undressing quickly while he followed you, letting himself fall down on his bed and watching you intensely as you peeled your clothes from your body and slipped into your signature skintight suit. By the time you were changed his cock was hard, straining his pants which you acknowledged with an appreciative smile.

You both exchange longing looks, but time is ticking. You put the newest addition to your equipment in your ear - a tiny, wireless headset, directly connected to Vox, bend over the bed, your tongue running over the warm line of his lower lip and sigh as he groans with want.

“I know it’s usually payment upfront, baby, but we’re already behind schedule.”

You can’t seem to tear yourself from him with those big hands on your ass squeezing tightly and that goddamn tongue in your mouth, your mind half decided to tell your client to fuck off and fuck the demon in front of you senseless. But he gently pulls away, his eyes burning not only with need, but also with pride. A look you loved to see on him.

“And besides, you are so much more voracious after a job well done.”

He slaps your ass as you pass him, and you shift through the wall, now almost as eager to steal that stupid looking red duck from some dingy, rundown hotel as you were to return to his waiting cock to cash in your salary.

[kentobb]

PRESAGE | CHAPTER TWO

Characters: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Female Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Angst?

Author’s note: I feel like I should make a masterlist. Lmk what you guys think.

5 year later…

Five years had passed since the graduation, and Ushijima had become a household name in the world of volleyball. As a key player for the Schweiden Adlers, he had risen to fame with his exceptional skills and unyielding determination. His powerful spikes and steadfast presence on the court were often the highlight of sports news. Paparazzi followed him relentlessly, their cameras clicking like mechanical insects whenever he stepped out. His face adorned billboards, and his matches were televised events that drew millions of viewers.

Yet, despite the adulation and the accolades, a certain emptiness lingered in his heart. The constant attention was exhausting, and the endless cycle of training and competition left little room for personal reflection. It was this weariness that drove him to make a decision he rarely indulged in: he would take a break. He would return to his roots, to the serene landscapes of the Miyagi prefecture, and visit his mother for a month.

After informing his manager and ensuring his schedule was clear, Ushijima packed a small bag and took a quiet train ride out of Tokyo. The journey was a welcome change from the hustle of city life, the rhythmic clatter of the tracks and the rolling vistas of the countryside soothing his frazzled nerves.

He arrived in Miyagi to a brisk spring breeze and the familiar, comforting sights of his childhood.

His mother’s house stood as it always had, a modest home nestled among fields that stretched out under the wide sky. She greeted him with a warm embrace, her eyes sparkling with pride and joy.

“There’s my big star!” She said as she hugged him.

They spent the first evening catching up, sharing simple meals, and enjoying the unhurried pace of rural life.

It was a balm to his soul, and he felt a peace he hadn't known in years.

After a few days of rest, Ushijima decided to visit an old friend. Tendō Satori, his eccentric best friend from high school, had opened a chocolate store not far from Shiratorizawa Academy. The store, aptly named "Tendō's Treats," had quickly gained popularity for its unique and whimsical confections. Ushijima had followed its success from afar, often receiving care packages filled with Tendō's latest creations.

The shop was a cheerful, inviting place with bright colors and playful decorations that reflected Tendō’s personality. As Ushijima pushed open the door, a small bell chimed, and the rich scent of chocolate enveloped him. Tendō was behind the counter, his trademark grin widening as he looked up and saw his old friend.

“Waka-chan!” Tendō exclaimed, vaulting over the counter with surprising agility. “What a surprise! I didn’t know you were in town!”

Ushijima returned the grin with a rare smile of his own. “I needed a break,” he explained simply.

Tendō clapped him on the back and led him to a cozy corner of the shop. They sat among shelves filled with colorful chocolates, reminiscing about old times and catching up on the present. Tendō’s stories were as animated as ever, his laughter infectious.

“And here I thought you’d be too busy with all those interviews and matches to remember little old me,” Tendō teased, his eyes twinkling.

“You’re not easily forgotten,” Ushijima replied, a hint of warmth in his voice.

Ushijima took a sip of his hot chocolate, his mind wandering back to their high school days. The memories were bittersweet, tinged with nostalgia and regret. He turned to Tendō, who was leaning back in his chair, a contented smile on his face as he savored his own drink.

“Tendō,” Ushijima began, his voice breaking the comfortable silence. “Have you seen anyone from our class recently?”

Tendō’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Hmm, not too many, but I do keep in touch with a few. Why do you ask?”

Ushijima shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Just curious. It’s been a while since we graduated.”

Tendō grinned and reached under the counter, pulling out a well-worn yearbook. “Ah, perfect timing! I was just looking through this the other day. Let’s take a trip down memory lane.”

He placed the yearbook on the table and opened it to a random page. The pictures and names of their classmates stared back at them, frozen in time. Tendō began flipping through the pages, pointing out familiar faces and providing updates.

“Ah, the usual suspects. Goshiki is still obsessed with volleyball, training kids now. Semi’s in a band, believe it or not. Shirabu went into medicine, as expected. He’s working crazy hours but loves it.”

Ushijima nodded, taking it all in. There was a comfort in hearing about his old teammates, their paths diverging yet somehow staying true to the people they were in high school. But these updates were not the ones he truly sought.

Ushijima nodded absently, his eyes scanning the pages but not really absorbing the information. He wasn’t interested in his old friends, not today. His mind was elsewhere, on someone else entirely.

Tendō noticed his distraction and paused, his expression turning more serious. “Waka-chan, you seem... different. Is there someone specific you’re wondering about?

Ushijima hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. I’ve been trying to find her for years, but it’s like she vanished…” He breathed, “Do you know what happened to her? To Y/N”

Tendō’s eyes softened with understanding. He flipped through the yearbook with more purpose, stopping on a page featuring a picture of Ushijima and you sitting together in the library. Both engrossed in books, having a tutoring session, but the warmth your expression was unmistakable.

“I remember this,” Tendō said softly, tapping the picture. “You two were inseparable back then.”

Ushijima stared at the picture, memories flooding back. The late nights studying, the shared dreams, the quiet moments of understanding. His chest tightened with a mix of longing and regret.

Tendō closed the yearbook gently, his expression thoughtful. “I’ve heard a bit about her. She’s working as a waitress in a restaurant now. And... she has a kid.”

Ushijima’s eyes widened in surprise. “A kid? Is she married?”

Tendō shook his head. “No, there’s no husband or father in the picture as far as I know. I tried visiting her once to see how she was doing, but she avoided me. I didn’t want to push, especially knowing...”

He trailed off, but Ushijima understood. “Especially knowing that I broke her heart.”

Tendō nodded. “Yeah. Waka-chan. I didn’t want to make things harder for her.”

Ushijima leaned back in his chair, feeling a wave of emotions crash over him. Confusion, regret, a hint of heartbreak. But beneath it all, a deep, abiding yearning. Even after all these years, his heart still ached for you.

“I never wanted to hurt her,” he said quietly. “I thought I was doing what was best for both of us.”

Tendō reached across the table and placed a comforting hand on his friend’s arm. “I know. You did what you thought was right. But sometimes, life doesn’t go the way we plan.”

Ushijima nodded, his gaze distant. “She has a child now. I’m glad she’s moved on, even if it means she had to move on without me.”

Tendō’s eyes were filled with sympathy. “Maybe it’s not too late, Waka-chan. Maybe you can still make things right, or at least find some closure.”

Ushijima looked at his friend, the weight of years of unresolved feelings pressing down on him. “Do you really think so?”

Tendō smiled gently. “I do. It’s never too late to try.”

“Can you tell me the name of the restaurant where she works?”

Tendō’s eyes widened slightly, and he paused before answering. “It’s called Sakura’s Garden. Are you planning to see her?”

Ushijima nodded. “I need to. Maybe I’ll run into her...by coincidence.”

Tendō gave a small nod of understanding. “Coincidence, Waka-chan?”

The walk to Sakura’s Garden felt longer than it should have, each step echoing with the weight of anticipation. As he approached the restaurant, his heart pounded in his chest. He stood outside, peering through the window.

And there you were, moving gracefully between tables. You looked different—older, more mature, and… tired.

He couldn’t stop looking at you. The years had changed you, but there was no mistaking the woman he had once loved. His mind swirled with memories and questions, unable to tear his gaze away.

“What are you doing here?” a familiar voice demanded, cutting through his thoughts.

Ushijima turned to see Asami, your best friend from high school, standing there with a look of disbelief and anger.

“Asami,” he began, trying to keep his voice calm. “I’m just visiting town.”

Asami’s eyes narrowed. “You need to stay away from her, from Y/N.”

Ushijima was taken aback by the intensity of her words. “Why? I don’t understand.”

Before Asami could respond, a small voice interrupted them. “Aunty?”

They both turned to see a little boy standing nearby, looking up at them with curious eyes. Ushijima’s breath caught in his throat. The boy had the same dark, intense eyes he saw in the mirror every day, the same stoic expression.

Asami’s eyes flickered with panic as she glanced at the boy. “Go sit down, sweetie,” she said, her voice strained but gentle. The boy nodded and returned to his seat, casting one last look at Ushijima.

Ushijima watched the boy, his mind racing. The resemblance was undeniable. He turned back to Asami, his voice filled with confusion.

Asami’s expression hardened again. “You need to leave, Ushijima.”

Ushijima’s thoughts were a whirlwind. He looked back at the boy, who was now quietly drawing, the resemblance striking.

Asami shook her head, her eyes filled with a mix of anger and pity. “Leave.”

Ushijima stood there, torn between the need to know the answer of his own question and the realization that his presence might cause more harm than good. He took one last look at the boy, feeling a pang of longing and regret.

“Please,” Asami whispered, her voice softening. “Let her be.”

With a heavy heart, Ushijima nodded slowly. He turned and began to walk away, each step feeling like a battle against the unresolved feelings and questions that plagued him. As he left, he couldn’t shake the image of the boy from his mind. The resemblance, the possibility—it was all too much to process.

But for now, he had no choice but to leave, carrying with him the weight of unanswered questions.

Why does that little boy looks like him?

Comments, notes and reblogs are appreciated! Feel free to let me know how you feel about this chapter <3

[your-averagewriter]

Lipstick kisses.

Summary: At the wrap party, Cooper and (y/n) get closer and closer before (y/n) leaves him with some lipstick marks as a reminder and a promise for later (pre apocalypse!Cooper Howard x fem!reader).

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: kissing, sexual references

-

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“Right here in the vaults is where you can live, so get your spot now before they run out and you can be as happy as us.” I say, looking into the camera, wearing a Vault-Tec suit that is molded to my body. Cooper’s arm is wrapped around my waist as we wear matching smiles, playing husband and wife for one of the new ads. They’re cheesy but they pay well and afford me a spot in one of the vaults which I wouldn’t be able to pay for myself.

“She’s right.” He places a well-planned kiss on my cheek. “It’s as easy as pie.” Cooper says, winking and dipping his finger in the apple pie they left for the shoot. “These walls allow us to stay safe and live the all-American lifestyle, they keep out the radiation and the Reds.” He says into the camera and it finishes filming.

“That’s a wrap.” Someone from behind the camera says.

“Great, are we done then?” I ask and everyone disperses, including Cooper and me.

“Wrap party.” Someone pats me on the shoulder, I turn around and it’s Cooper.

“Wrap party? We’ve only filmed a few ads, it’s not like we filmed a movie.”

“Damn feels like it sometimes with all the takes.” I chuckle.

“So where’s the party?”

“My house starts at 8:00, most people won’t turn up until past 8:30 - you know how parties go.”

“Well, I’ll see you later then.” I say with a small smile before walking away to get into my usual clothes and head home before going to Coop’s party.

Getting home, I lay out my outfit, picking out a long red dress that is form-fitting and pack a little black handbag with my matching lipstick, a box of cigarettes, a lighter, keys and phone. Double-checking my makeup in the mirror, I slip on my heels before leaving and driving to Cooper’s house.

There’s a crash on one of the roads so the traffic is awful as I try to get to the wrap party but I end up getting there quite a bit later than expected - definitely past 8:30. Finally I pull up, having to park down the hill a little due to all the good car spaces already being taken.

It’s a short walk to get to his house, when I go to knock on the door, it’s already open and I can hear the music vibrating throughout the house. 

I navigate my way through the people, talking to some as they greet me - being one of the main actors in the advertiser means my name is plastered on the billboards. I find the kitchen easily despite the people crowding it and pour myself a drink in the tacky red cups.

I busy myself with the drink, trying to ignore the eyes on my figure, noticing that I didn’t understand the dress code, ending up in a much fancier outfit than anyone else. Tiring of the loud noise and not seeing anyone I truly knew, I head outside, walking over to one of the benches, facing away from the building and towards the pool and pulling out my cigarette pack and lighter. I place a cigarette in between my lips and try to light it but my lighter doesn’t work. 

I flick the lighter again and again.

“Hey darlin’, need some help?” I turn around to face Cooper with his lighter in hand. Looking up at him, he lights the cigarette for me.

“Thanks.” He sits down on the bench next to me.

“Not enjoying the party, sweetheart?”

“I don’t really know anyone here. They’re all on the business side of things and they seem to know me, it freaks me out.” I chuckle, taking a drag from the cigarette.

“Well, at least you look the part.” He grins. “You look stunnin’.”

“Thank you, I feel like I stick out.”

“You always stick out ‘cause you’re so pretty.”

“Not what I meant.” I chuckle as he takes the cigarette from my hand, lingering a second longer, his eyes on mine before lifting it up to his mouth and taking a long drag.

“Oh, I know exactly what you meant and I still think it’s a good thing. Don’t know how I didn’t see you sooner with this little get-up.”

I look him up and down, looking at the suit he’s wearing. “Since when did you wear suits?” I take another hit.

“Since I got a reputation.”

“I like you better with your cowboy attire.” I show a slightly dopey smile, maybe slightly influenced by the drinks I had earlier…

“Me too, darlin’, me too.” He laughs, taking a sip of a glass of whiskey he brought out with him. “I’ll wear the cowboy hat for you next time. Maybe we could have a party for two, dinner maybe.”

“Are you asking me out for dinner?”

“I’m asking you in for dinner. I make a mean spaghetti bolognese.” He wears a small grin on his face. “So what do you say?”

“That sounds nice. I like pasta. And you, of course.” I say, turning to properly face him, blowing a ring of smoke towards him with a smile

“Well, that’s good because I like you quite a bit.” He leans forward slightly, matching my smile, and moving forward slightly.

“Cooper, (y/n)! I hope I’m not interrupting.” Sebastian walks over, sitting down on the bench opposite the both of us.

“‘Course not.” I say, quickly pulling away with a slightly flustered look.

“You were interrupting actually, Sebastian. I was just about to kiss this pretty lady.” Both the men laugh while I sit there looking mildly embarrassed.

“Well then, I’ll be on my way. Hopefully I’ll see you later on, if you two don’t get too carried away that is.” He jokes, laughing.

“So embarrassing.” I mumble, head in hands once Sebastian leaves.

“I was just being honest, sweetheart. Now, where were we?” I look back up at him.

He pushes his lips against mine gently as I reciprocate, matching the delicate nature - almost as if he thinks I'll break. After a few seconds I pull away and can't help but chuckle as I look at his face.

“What? What is it?” He asks with a small grin.

“Nothing.” I decide not to tell him about the lipstick smudged on his lips. “Sorry.” I chuckle.

“C’mere, you.” He says, arm around my waist to pull me closer to him, a smirk on his face before he presses his lips against mine again.

I wrap my arms around his neck, resting them as we pull each other closer. I pull back to press a few kisses to his jaw, relishing the little lipstick kisses that are left behind.

“You're a little minx, you are.” He mumbles, I smile softly against his skin, continuing before making my way back to his lips.

I feel one of his hands travel up my thigh, his rough hands against the smooth skin exposed by the slit in my dress. He caresses the skin gently, rubbing little circles.

I play with his hair, my arms still resting over his shoulders gives me access to the back of his head also allowing me to pull him closer.

I feel his fingers reach under the slit of my dress and I pull back to reach for the hand with a conflicted smile.

“Cooper.” I say almost like a warning. “We're at your party and in your garden.”

“I don't mind.” He shrugs with a dopey smile.

“I mind.” I say, “Besides, people will be looking for you.” I stand up, holding his hand and leading him to stand as well. “C’mon.”

“Fine.” He huffs, worried he's missing out as he walks back into his house.

I lean over until my mouth is just by his ear.

“Y'know, if you wanted I could stay back a little later?” I whisper but it’s barely a question as I already know the answer, pulling back with a teasing smile before walking away again, leaving him with the lipstick marks as I find a bathroom to reapply my lipstick with a knowing smile.

Re-joining the party, I try to socialise with some other people but I make sure to keep an eye on Cooper talking to people trying to hide their hushed chuckles. Finally, I watch someone break the news to him as he walks over to one of the mirrors in his house, turning his face to examine the damage before he looks over at him. I send a small smile, feigning innocence as he shakes his head.

“Little minx.” He mumbles with a small grin.

-

AN: I hope you enjoyed reading!

I'm actually in love with Cooper, I swear (Ghoul form and not)

If you want a part two to this fic then let me know (I don't write smut though)!

[bitethedevil]

I think that Raphael could be able to take over the Nine Hells.

“Raphael is biting over more than he can chew with his plans to take over the Nine Hells.”

“If the Crown of Karsus was so powerful why wouldn’t Mephistopheles have already used it?”

*Puts on my tinfoil hat* shhhh, come here…hear me out.

If you’ve read the Annals of Karsus, we know that there are three artifacts that are known as “The Regalia of Karsus”. There is the Crown, the Orb, and the Scepter and they are ‘the physical embodiments of Karsus’s wizardry’. Each of the three artifacts have their own power and purpose (this is directly quoted from the Annals of Karsus):

“The Crown of Karsus: to attract and absorb magical knowledge and give the wearer dominion over himself so that he remains his own entity apart from the Weave.

The Orb of Karsus: a storage device or battery that condenses mystic power, ever-gathering so that it must be syphoned at intervals of its excess.

The Sceptre of Karsus: an instrument of projection, a focusing utensil for the precise wielding of unimaginably vast forces.”

We know where the Crown has been: In Mephistopheles archive and later stolen by the Chosen Three.

The Orb?: Sounds a lot like what Gale deals with, but from what I can read, people disagree about whether that is the Orb of Karsus.

The Scepter of Karsus, though, is heavily hinted at to be owned by Raphael. I don’t have the exact quotes, but if someone does feel free to share them. The archivist says something about a scepter that is like the crown being in the collection and I believe Helsik talks about Raphael collecting Karsite artifacts.

If Raphael DOES own the Scepter of Karsus, it makes even more sense why he is so pissed at papa Meph. He owns an incredibly powerful magical artifact of ‘unimaginably vast forces’, but he isn’t able to actually use it and wield it because Mystra would stop him in a heartbeat. He needs the Crown to separate himself from the Weave to actually use it.

Let’s quickly talk about another Scepter from Netheril: “The Scepter of the Sorcerer Kings”. Its purpose was to strip the power of gods and banishing their influence from Netheril, but the guy (not Karsus, some other really powerful wizard) never completed it because the Netherese gods stopped him. The scepter, however, could not harm deities that had magic within their control (such as Mystra). But we can all agree that this all sounds very similar to the exact same thing that Karsus would attempt years later? The Scepter of Karsus and the rest of the Regalia of Karsus was even more powerful than The Scepter of the Sorcerer Kings since it could not only steal the power of Mystryl but also transfer it to the wielder.

Let’s go back to the Hells. Mephistopheles keeps the Crown in his vault and doesn’t use it for a millennium. Why? We have established that the Crown absorbs and attracts magical knowledge, and it also separates the wielder from the Weave. The Crown in itself seems powerful, but as many have also said about Raphael, it hardly seems enough to take down Asmodeus in itself.

What if…*adjusts my tinfoil hat* What if the Netherese truly learned nothing and history repeats itself as always, and it is in fact these mentioned ‘unimaginably vast forces’ of the Scepter that is the key to overthrow gods and steal their powers, and not the only Crown. The Crown simply assures that the wearer’s magic is out of reach from Mystra so they can do whatever they want, and it grants knowledge. Meaning, if Raphael has at least both the Scepter and the Crown, he could steal Asmodeus’s powers and go through with what his father could not achieve because his mischievous little son has been holding onto Scepter that is necessary to even wield and project those powers. He would become be the ruler of the Nine and gods know what else. It's not entirely out of the question that he might even have the Orb as well, seeing as we aren't really sure if Gale's Orb is the Orb.

Again, the Crown absorbs and attracts magical knowledge and it’s the key too using all of this naughty magic that Mystra doesn’t want you to mess with, but it does not seem like it actually gives you a whole lot of powers. It essentially just makes you know about it. What if the truly nasty stuff lies in the Scepter? It seems at the very least that the Scepter is necessary to truly harness and project the powers of the rest of the Regalia with any sort of precision.

(If you have any additions or corrections to my insane ramblings, feel absolutely free to add them and I’d love to read them)