#I don't know if it really counts as critical but I put on the tag just in case
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Fangs and Fractured Hearts
Chapter 8: Free Fall
Summary: After embracing eternity as a vampire spawn under Astarion's wing, the Crimson Palace becomes a haunting symbol of the man he once was. As his personality unravels into a dark abyss, you flee. A year of hardship unveils the harsh reality of existence as a vampire spawn.
Just as all hope seems lost, a twist of fate reunites you with Astarion, revealing a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows. As you navigate the complexities of your relationship, you must confront the unsettling truth behind the Rite of Profane Ascension and the devilish secrets it holds.
In a race against time, you embark on a daring quest to save Astarion from his descent into darkness. With each choice you make, the stakes grow higher, testing the limits of your courage and determination.
Will Astarion find redemption, or is he destined to succumb to his own inner turmoil?
Word Count: 6.8k
Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn
Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]
Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events.
If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know
Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]
Pet spawn?
Unrestrained laughter erupts from your lips at Elowyn’s overt taunting. This snake has made the doltish mistake of thinking that she can manipulate you through her callous words. She believes you to be a blind fool, but you see her goading for what it is, and you will not be baited as if you’re a starving animal being offered food on a silver platter.
She’s been trying to exploit my weakness for Astarion all along.
Elowyn’s face deforms into a bewildered mess that makes her usually gossamer features vanish. She smooths down her silky green dress with a restless hand. Those beaming sapphire eyes try to drill through your unyielding gaze, and she doubles down on her efforts to spur you on.
“Sugar doesn’t believe she’s your pet, Astarion,” she throws her head back with mocking, frosted laughter echoing into the night, “How adorable.”
“I know what you’re doing, Sugar,” you giggle, pulling your hand out of Astarion’s, who watches you with a cocked brow, his mouth slightly agape in astonishment, “It will not work on me.”
Your palms heat as you stalk steadily around her and Astarion. Running up and down the length of her svelte frame, your eyes analyze Elowyn with an iron gaze. She really is quite stunning, with her pouty lips polished with a red-hued stain, but she can’t conceal that conniving, duplicitous flare in her eyes from you.
“I am sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, spawn,” Elowyn croons innocently, “Astarion, dear, your toy is frightening me. She needs her Master to give her leash a yank.”
Astarion chuckles, bitter and biting, “I warned you to watch yourself,” he purrs, shoving her away from him, “Did I not?”
The blue flare of lightning erupts across her fingers, and you’re momentarily confused. You’re too away for her to cast Shocking Hands against you. It doesn’t dawn on you until it’s too late that her target is Astarion. You cast quickly and pitch her into the air with Telekinesis, sending her hurtling across the paved ground.
It’s too late, and you watch Astarion’s eyes flicker between the deathly spiritless frost and the vivid cardinal red. He shudders with a bellowing roar as the lighting courses through him. Seeing him in pain causes your intrinsic sorcery to surge in a torrent, along with the ardour of your rage. Fire detonates to life from your palm in a molten, oscillating sphere burning so hot it would put the very Hells themselves to shame.
You prepare to bombard Elowyn with the draconic firestorm, but Astarion’s strained voice makes you pause, “Don’t,” he grimaces as the aftershocks course through his body, making him twitch and jerk.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Astarion?” you snap, your body trembling with the sheer amount of power brimming inside you.
“I will explain everything,” Astarion’s eyes dance between ice and fire as the conflict inside him sieges his mind, “but right now, I need you. I cannot afford to lose control.”
You look between him and Elowyn, who remains unstirring on the rigid ground. You could kill her effortlessly right now and wipe her miserable soul from existence, but you would almost surely cause Astarion to lose the fragment of control he is hardly clinging to.
Elowyn or Astarion?
The choice is obvious, but it still vexes you. “Fuck!” you scream into the sky, struggling to rein in your rampaging temper. The fireball in your palm ebbs as you try to douse it, “Tell me what you need.”
“Kiss me,” he commands.
You glance once more between Elowyn and Astarion, gods-fucking-damn it, you think, before sprinting towards Astarion. You drive yourself into his outstretched arms and take his lips in yours. He crushes you against him with such strength that you wonder if your ribs may splinter and break.
You slide your tongue over the sharp tip of your fang and let the metallic sharpness flood your mouth. You entice his lips to part, and a groan rumbles in his chest as your taste drags him back from the brink of oblivion.
The clattering of unsteady footsteps resounds, and Astarion breaks the kiss, glancing behind you. Elowyn is wobbling on shaky legs as she attempts to stagger away. The bright vermillion hue of blood streaks her face and drips from her cheek onto her soiled dress.
“She must not get away,” Astarion says with a voice bathed in malice.
You untangle yourself from him and cast Hold Person. A purple glyph renders on the ground under Elowyn, and she halts, mid-stride, dead in her tracks, as the blockade encompasses her. Glimmering chalky tendrils cavort around her, keeping her statuesque and speechless.
“Go back to the manor,” Astarion orders with a sharp edge, “I will return when I have dealt with this.”
He wants me to leave?
You can’t help yourself, and you grit your teeth as you try to bite back raw jealousy, “Are you taking her back to the palace,” you spit harshly, “to entertain her?”
“No, you adorable, envious thing,” he chuckles, “Most certainly not.”
“Then why do I have to leave,” you cross your arms over obstinately.
I do not take orders.
“I do not wish you to see what I’m about to do to her,” his eyes bore into you.
“You’re not going to kill her, or you would have let me do it,” your eyes tunnel into Astarion, scrutinizing him, “What do you not wish me to see?”
He sighs, running his hands through his hair, “How long will the spell hold?”
“It will dissipate with time, or I can end it at my whim, but you are avoiding the question.”
“Fine,” he growls. His hand rests at the back of his neck, and he shakes his head slightly, "If you wish to stay, then stay, but keep behind me and do not look into my eyes.”
Your brow cocks in confusion, “Why?”
Astarion runs his fingers lightly down your arm with that practiced scheming smile, “Do as I ask, please.”
He’s trying to manipulate me.
“I’m staying.”
“Bloody Hells, you’re stubborn,” he groans as his face twists between an angry scowl and an amused grin. Astarion takes several steps forward before turning back to you, “You should take heed of my instructions at times, you know. I’m trying to protect you, and you’re making it exceptionally difficult.”
Protect me from what? From the feeble, sad sack of flesh stuck in my cage?
Astarion disperses and becomes flesh again at the other end of the street in front of the imprisoned Elowyn with his arms crossed, regarding her with low, pinched brows.
Show off.
Casting Misty Step, you vanish and appear beside him. Elowyn’s eyes flicker between you, but that’s all she can move. You stare at her acutely with a smug smile. The wound on her forehead still weeps, and blood dribbles down her face, slow and syrupy.
“How long until she’s free?”
“I can let her free if you wish,” you say while walking a lap around the suspended woman, trying to figure out what is so off about her that makes your hair stand on end, “or you can wait for the spell to wane.”
Astarion’s eyes cast skyward, “It will be dawn soon. Get behind me, let her go, but do not look into my eyes. Do you understand?”
You press your back against Astarion’s as you stare off in the opposite direction, “Tell me when you’re ready.”
“Do it.”
Gripping the Weave, you allow the spell to unravel and give Elowyn her freedom. The scent of her blood on the air is heavy this close, and you feel like you’re frothing at the mouth, trying to bulldoze your profane urges down. Astarion’s hand turns and folds over yours, giving you something to concentrate on.
“Astarion,” Elowyn gasps, finally able to speak, “You don’t have to do this. I overstepped. Master, please be merciful.”
She calls him Master? HA!
“Elowyn, darling,” Astarion’s voice is wrapped up in the velvety tone of manipulation you remember so well, making you wince, “You must learn your place, or I will be forced to replace you.”
“Master,” she sobs, “please.”
“Be a very good girl and look into my eyes, Elowyn,” Astarion coos, “You will go home tonight, crawl into your bed and fall into a deep sleep. When you awaken, this will all be but a dream.”
Elowyn’s voice is emotionless and blank when she answers again, and you can’t help but spin around. Staring into her eyes, you recognize the compulsion from the guards at Cazador’s. Threads of red rays are weaving around her as she stares at Astarion, unwavering.
Gods, she doesn’t even blink.
There’s nothing but a vast emptiness in those sapphire eyes now, almost as if you were looking into the eyes of a corpse. Her pupils are blown wide, obscuring much of the colour of her irises. This should delight you, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t a little, but you wonder how often he’s made you forget. How many times has he made you go home and think something was simply a dream?
No wonder he didn’t want me to witness this. Can I not even trust my memories?
At Astarion’s command, Elowyn walks away in a rigid and jerky motion as if her limbs are carved from wood. They lurch stiffly, and you can hear her repeating, “Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream,” as she marches wherever she goes.
You watch Elowyn disappear into a dark alley, repeating those words in a hollow voice, “What did you do to her, Astarion?"
You already know, but you must hear him admit it.
“Probably precisely what you think,” Astarion says with a stiff back, standing exceptionally tall and intimidating, “I compelled her.”
A tremble runs through you, “How long does that last?”
“Until my commands are completed,” he looks at you, and you watch an ominous glow recede slowly from his eyes, “As far as I can tell.”
How many times has he done this to me? Another thing I must be alert for.
The walk back to the manor is tainted with an awkward silence. Flaming Fists patrolling the streets nod to Astarion as if they are acquainted, but they give you careful, often fearful, looks and even change their paths to keep their distance from you. You are tempted to scream “BOO!” at them to see if they jump.
Astarion walks casually beside you and, oddly enough, slows his pace to yours. In your peripheral vision, you catch his eyes repeatedly snapping toward you. You pretend not to notice his peculiar behaviour, but apprehension claws at you, ruffling your nerves. Usually, it was hard to get Astarion to shut up, but right now, you wish he would say anything to dispel the cumbersome stillness.
Casting your eyes heavenward, you stare into the sky, not a cloud to be seen. All those little pinpoints of twinkling lights are starting to dwindle as the moon prepares to yield to the sun, “Astarion, are you still yourself?"
“Yes,” he crosses his arms and cocks his brow, “I am still myself, more or less. Why?”
You pivot on him quickly, grabbing his arms with a bright smile, “Can we watch the sunrise?”
Astarion halts, eye round and brows raised so high they seem to be trying to climb onto his scalp, “You wish to watch the sunrise with me?”
“If you promise you won’t let the sun burn me.”
“Never, my sweet. I would be honoured,” Astarion grins boyishly, his fangs in plain view, “I know a perfect place. This way.”
Astarion twists you through the upper city streets until you reach the newly rebuilt High Hall. The palace towers into the sky and construction continues on a few additions and extra wings stretching outward.
Several grand spires topped with parapets sit atop an elaborate multistory estate with elegant windows. It is protected by an outer wall with several rather large round towers. The central courtyard boasts lush gardens, expertly manicured with crisscrossing walkways lined with benches.
“Astarion,” you say while looking around at the extensive scenery, “where in the Hells are you taking me?”
He points to the tallest rounded tower with a flat top, “Up there.”
Glancing at it, you cross your arms and stare at him with knitted brows, “I can’t get up there. I can’t see where I’m going.”
He chuckles with a sly smile and shrugs, “I guess I will be the only one watching the sunrise then because I can fly up there.”
Sometimes, you can’t tell when he’s joking, and you stare at him petulantly with pursed lips.
“Oh, you are adorable when you’re being sour,” an endearing crooked half smile draws up the corners of his mouth, “No tricks needed. We are just going to walk right in.”
Walk right into High Hall?
Astarion strides through the grounds with you on his heels. He’s familiar with the property and knows what paths to take and where to turn. With dawn approaching, the groundskeepers are starting their rounds of watering and pruning the various plants. They all greet him with a bow and a respectful “Saer” before continuing their routines.
Gods. They know him. What the fuck has he been up to?
He lets himself into a tower where a couple of guards are playing cards or dozing in their chairs. They jump to attention as soon as they see him. Some pop up so abruptly that their rickety wood chairs and stools capsize with a rattle.
“Master Ancunin,” they greet him with their heads bowed in respect.
“At ease,” Astarion instructs, “Wigmund, I will be at the top. No one is to disturb me. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Master Ancunin, as you say,” the burly man rasps.
You duck down slightly to try and look at their eyes. You can hear hearts beating, but you wonder if one or more of these poor souls are Astarion’s spawn.
How else would he have such command over them?
Astarion crosses his arms and cocks a brow at you, “Heads and eyes up, all of you,” he barks before motioning to you with his hand in a dramatic gesture, “Take a good look, my dear.”
The men snap their heads up with wild eyes. You stare at Astarion, observing his eyes to ensure you haven’t upset him. He stands casually, aloof and quite clearly bored but with a lopsided grin. You stare into the eyes of all the men, browns, blues, and greens, but none are sanguine red.
“Finished your inspection of my men?” Astarion tuts, “We will miss the sunrise if you take much longer looking for things that aren’t there.”
“I’m going to have questions for you later, Astarion,” you taunt with a wry smile.
“You are exceptionally nosy these days,” he admonishes playfully, bounding up the twisting staircase as you follow, “It seems we have much to discuss.”
Astarion motions to the ladder leading the hatch that will open to the top of the tower, “Ladies first.”
“Are you angry?”
He sighs with a theatrical flair, “Why? Because you inspected the guards to see if any of them were my spawn instead of simply asking me?”
“You’re not answering the question.”
Astarion’s fingers slide down your arm, “I’m not angry in the slightest. You may inspect as many guards as you want. I care not.”
You point at the ladder, “You go up first.”
He bows, “As you wish.”
Climbing onto the top of the tower, your eyes are met with a breathtaking view of the Chionthar and lower city. Large and small boats slice through the otherwise still waters as the first dim wisps of light creep up on the horizon.
Astarion’s hand comes to the small of your back, “What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful up here.”
“It is,” he smiles one of the most beautiful smiles you’ve ever seen on him, “Come. Sit with me. Sunrise is not far off now.”
You crawl onto the flat stone top and let your legs hang over the edge precariously. Looking down, you shrink away as anxiety tightens in your stomach. You were never a big fan of heights. It’s been established that you are not the most graceful being to walk this land, and part of you fears you might topple right over the edge.
Astarion watches you intently before shaking his head and giggling at you, well aware of this phobia, “Heights still trouble you?” he looks down and cocks his head, “The fall wouldn’t kill you, but it would be painful.”
“Wow,” you scoff at him dryly, “Thank you. I feel much better now.”
“Come here, little love,” he chuckles as he grabs you by the waist and moves so you’re sitting comfortably between his legs, “I’ll protect you from your woeful clumsiness.”
The first swell of the sun ascends over the horizon, and you lurch back further into Astarion, gritting your teeth in a knee-jerk reaction. You know you’re safe with him, or at least you hope so, but logic succumbs to panic. Burying your face into Astarion’s chest and closing your eyes, you grip tight handfuls of his shirt.
Please, please, don’t hurt me.
“It’s alright,” Astarion pushes the hair out of your face, and his fingers sweep up and down your arm, “I’ve got you. Open your eyes.”
You open one of your eyes in a narrow slit and peek out of it, looking toward the horizon. The golden sphere climbs slowly, casting outstanding, sharp oranges and pale yellows into the sky. The radiant light frisks over your pale skin, and you smile.
Astarion lights up when he sees you smiling. His arms pull you closer, and he rests his head against yours and whispers, “This is nice.”
It is.
You relax in Astarion’s arms as you both watch the birth of a new day.
Standing in the long hallway, you stretch with a yawn. The heavy drapes cover the windows, smothering the manor in shadow, which means Astarion has gone out. On your way to the library, you pass a large mirror with a delicate silver trim. You peer into the reflective surface. Unsurprisingly, the mirror remains empty and void of your image. You let the pads of your fingers slink down the smooth finish. It used to make you sad, this lack of reflection, but somewhere along the way, you became anesthetized to it.
You look down the hall at Astarion’s bedroom door. It’s slightly ajar, and you can’t help but take a peek inside.
I shouldn’t.
Despite your better judgment, you push further into his room, letting your fingers trace over the baroque tables and wardrobes fashioned from deep plum-stained wood. Papers and ledgers are strewn on his desk, various contracts and purchase agreements with notes and signatures in his immaculate hand.
A rectangular black leatherbound notebook lays on his bedside table. Picking it up, you sit on the bed and let your fingers meander over the smooth cover. You know you shouldn’t open it; you shouldn’t be here in the first place, but curiosity was always your downfall. Your fingers undo the ties, keeping the oddly shaped notebook closed, and you flip it open.
Your face stares back at you from the page, and you gasp as your eyes pine over the beautifully detailed sketch. Gods, you haven’t seen yourself in so long, and you wonder if it’s even you for a moment. Your fingers shake as they hover over the drawing. You fill page after page countlessly as you flip through them.
Every single one.
You hear the creak of the manor door open, the resounding thump of Astarion’s heartbeat and footsteps as he ascends the staircase. You should leave, but your eyes are fixed on the image of your eyes before you. At least, you think it’s your eyes as they appear now, but you’ve never seen them, so you can’t be sure. It’s the only sketch in colour. Red veils most of the irises, but there are splotches, cracks and slivers where another colour emerges against the vivid scarlet.
Astarion leans against the doorframe. His arms crossed, “Snooping, are you?”
“I didn’t know you draw.”
“My dear, I’m 200 years old, with much of that time spent hiding away during the day,” he tuts with a low chuckle, “I am a man of many talents.”
“These,” your voice drifts as you swallow hard and turn another page, “These are all...”
“You,” he cuts you off, “Yes. Observant, as always.”
Finally prying your eyes away from the page, you stare at him bewildered, “Why?”
Astarion sits beside you on the bed, “I could never get you out of my head,” he shifts the notebook out of your hands and stares down at the page, “For awhile, these were all I had left of you.”
“I-I,” you spring off the bed, intending to leave, “I’m sorry. I should not have been in your room.”
“I did say I could be convinced to call it our room,” Astarion grabs your arm, a sly grin quirking up the corners of his lips, “You’re welcome in here, even if it’s just to rummage through my things, you delinquent.”
Our room. It sounds so good.
No. I cannot let myself get caught in this trap.
“Is that what my eyes look like now?”
Astarion turns the page and cocks his head, examining it, and then back at you scrutinizingly. Walking to the window, he pulls the curtains back, allowing sunlight to splash over the room and beckons you closer with his finger.
“Look at me,” he angles your face so the sun washes over it, “Hm, close, but I could do better.”
Astarion almost rips the page out, and you grasp at his hands with a yelp, “What are you doing!?”
He giggles with a smirk, “Don’t fret,” his thumb caresses your cheek, “I will sketch it again.”
“If you’re just going to tear it out and throw it away, can I keep it?”
He cocks a brow at you and looks at the page. Smiling, he tears it out carefully and hands it to you, “It’s all yours, beautiful.”
“Thank you,” you say breathlessly, staring at it, mesmerized.
“If you’re done poking about now,” he sighs while closing the notepad, “I believe we have matters we must discuss.”
Elowyn. Fuck.
A discussion topic you would rather avoid. You’re not ready to hear whatever he has to say, and truthfully, you don’t want to know what kind of relationship he has with her. She already told you more than you care to know.
You look at him, crestfallen, “You want to discuss Elowyn.”
He nods, “You did well to avoid an altercation with her,” Astarion praises, taking your hand, but you pull away from him.
“I’m not an idiot. She was trying to bait me,” you scoff, clenching your jaw with a frown, “I have used the same tactic many times. She knows what you are, Astarion, and about whatever is wrong with you. She tried to get you mad on purpose. You realize that, right?”
“Yes, that’s quite clear after her little performance,” Astarion’s fingers cradle his chin, “Her motives for such a demonstration still elude me, though.”
You toss your head back and laugh steely and sarcastic, “She wants me out of the way. I suppose she’s not happy to share you,” Astarion’s mouth opens to speak, but you trample over him, “I don’t want to know what she is to you,” your eyes shine, wet with unshed tears, “Please. Spare me that pain.”
“Sweetheart…” he mewls with a timbre of candied gloss.
“I said no, Astarion,” you say, sharper than any dagger ever could be. Your hands shake as you place the drawing on a table, careful not to crease the delicate parchment.
“Why do you evade this?” he roars coarsely while tearing off his coat as if it’s suffocating him, throwing it aside, “Why does this upset you so much? You abandoned me!”
“If you don’t know why this upsets me, then you are being intentionally ignorant, Astarion!” you scream as the tears finally spill out of your eyes, “I thought… I thought...”
I thought you loved me.
You wrap your arms around yourself to stifle your sobbing, “It doesn’t matter what I thought.”
Leaning your back against the wall, you hope it might help steady you. Sometimes, you miss the all-consuming numbness that has been slowly unthawing, leaving you this walking emotional catastrophe. Your knees feel like jelly as sobs you’re trying to keep suffocated wrack your body.
“Elowyn means nothing to me,” he whispers in a velvet dulcet, “She is simply a means to an end.”
I guess we are doing this.
“If she means nothing to you, why didn’t you let me end her,” you wipe the tears staining your cheeks, “Why did you protect her? It’s hardly like you to be against murder.”
“She is still useful to me. She is a rather keen alchemist and a proxy for that vile Drow merchant.”
Drow merchant? No… It couldn’t possibly be.
“I’m sorry. What?”
His fingers wrack through his hair fitfully, messing the perfected style, “I’ve contracted the blood merchant to do some,” he pauses, “assessments for me. Elowyn is her assistant.”
Did I just hear him correctly?
Exploding, you scream at him. Leaping forward, grabbing his shirt, you shake him, “Please tell me you are not talking about Araj Oblodra?”
“The very one.”
“What in the fuck are you doing cavorting with her,” you scold him, flushed with helpless rage, “you hate her!”
“I do, most fervently,” he retorts harshly, “which is why Elowyn takes care of the dirty work.”
“Assessments?” you cringe, the word tasting sour on your tongue, “Please tell me you are not giving her access to your blood.”
He won’t even give me his blood.
“If I tell you that it would be a lie, and I’m no liar,” he says in a crystalline tone, “The ritual changed the composition of my blood. I’d rather like to know why and if it has anything to do with my… ailment.”
He’s gone completely mad.
“You godsdamned idiot! How could you be so careless? You have no idea what your blood is capable of!”
“Oh, come now,” he scoffs with a serrated click of his tongue, “Don’t be dramatic, darling. It’s only a minuscule amount. They could hardly do anything with it.”
“Fuck,” you rage on, and all the candles in the room alight at once with long, skinny flames twirling like tornados unnaturally, “I can’t believe you would be so fucking brainless.”
He glances at the candles and shrugs with a clever glint in his eye, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” he waves dismissively, “and all that.”
“Close is one thing, but taking her to your bed?” you give him another vigorous shake as if you might be able to physically shake sense back into him, “What in the nine Hells are you thinking!”
“Take her to my bed,” his brows pinch together, “whatever are you talking about?”
“Don’t lie to me,” you rasp, tears freefalling from your eyes, “She told me about your relationship, and you implied it the night she showed up, and you told me it was none of my business! A long night entertaining your guest, remember?”
His forehead creases, and his eyes shift as if trying to recall memories, “Ah,” he looks suddenly abashed, “Yes, I suggested that. I, uh, may have embellished… a little.”
“Why? What was the point?”
“I asked you to stay that day, remember? I asked you to stay with me in the palace, and you declined. I may have, perhaps, a trifle childishly lashed out.”
“But Elowyn,” you finally let him go and start pacing the room, “she told me!”
“I’m curious,” Astarion straightens his shirt where your unyielding grip rumpled it, “What exactly did she tell you?”
“She said you two were having a lot of fun. I believe her exact words were, “Sex, sweetness, sex,” you bristle while trying to quell the nauseating wave that unfurls and tickles your throat, “She made sure the clarify that for me as if I were some fucking halfwit.”
Astarion throws his head back and laughs loudly, “Gods. She wishes,” he rolls his eyes and shakes his head, “Elowyn has never graced my sheets. That is not to say she did not try, of course, but can you blame her? I am terribly charming.”
“You’ve,” you blunder. Your tongue feels numb, and you can’t get it to form the question, “Never?” you ask, finally managing to nudge it out clumsily.
“Absolutely not!” Astarion exclaims, clicking his tongue in disapproval, sticking his nose pompously in the air, “I do not fraternize with my underlings.”
Was that why he wouldn’t touch me? Did he consider me his underling?
“Why,” you stammer, swallowing hard, “why would she tell me that? What would she gain from it?”
“You did say she was trying to goad you,” he shrugs, “As for her motivations, I do not know, but I intend to find out.”
“I’m still going to fucking kill her one day,” you growl with a devilish smirk, relishing the vivid unpardonable visions racing through your head, “after I discover what she is up to.”
“Still murderous,” he grins wickedly handsome, “I’m impressed. When the time comes, she’s all yours, my love.”
My love.
You giggle at his approval, but it fades as you stare into those engrossing ruby-red eyes. You crash into him, wrapping your arms around him, taking his lips in yours, primal and uninhibited. Astarion groans, and his tongue darts into your mouth, desperate to savour you as if he is a drought and you are the first droplets of rain in centuries.
Gods, your hands ache to roam the silk ivory of his skin, and you tug at his shirt. He pulls it off in one swift motion before his lips crash into yours again, his hand cradling your cheek. You start to undo the metal clasps of your shirt. Apparently, too slowly, and he tears it from your body, tossing it aside uncharacteristically carelessly, the usual requirement for order and tidiness slain by his untamed need for you.
“You’re beautiful,” he drawls, “So Godsdamned beautiful.”
Your rationality is eclipsed by infernal, white-hot desire. You pull him close, letting your searing hands pour over the contours of his flawless body. You are slipping, tumbling down an icy hill you will never be able to ascend again, but at this moment, you barely recognize yourself nosediving to your demise.
His hands burn trails of vitality into your lifeless skin. A deprived whimper escapes your mouth, and you can feel the smug smile spread across his lips. He knows, he always knows you won’t fight him, won’t spar with these feelings, even when you should.
Gripping the back of your thighs, Astarion pulls you off your feet, just as he did that night in the forest. Your legs straddle his waist, and in a couple of fluid, silent steps, he pins you between himself and the lofty mattress with his hips. He grinds his erection against you, eliciting unconstrained sighs from you against his starved, urging mouth.
His hand pushes past the waistband of your trousers to find you slick with arousal, and a moan rumbles deep in his chest. A feverous tension coalesces in your abdomen. Fuck, you should stop him, you should, but you don’t. He has poisoned you and made himself the antidote, leaving you helpless against him.
“What do you want, darling,” he coos with a voice like a warm spring day, “Tell me what you want, and I will make it yours.”
Astarion’s dexterous fingers sweep gently over your swollen clit in flawless execution. He remembers you, remembers your body and remembers exactly how to drive you to unadulterated senselessness, which is exactly where he wants you. Isn’t it? Senseless and begging, pleading, beseeching him for his touch, his love, his acceptance.
Hells, you know better than to let him overwhelm you, but being with him is like second nature in the same way breathing had once been. Even after all this time, despite everything he’s done, you cannot fathom how not to love him.
“I want-” you murmur as his finger glides magnificently around the pulsing bundle of nerves, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from crying out at the decadent sensation, “Fuck, Astarion. I want you.”
���And I want you, only you,” he articulates in an assertive, sultry inflection, carefully pronouncing every word as if his very life depended on getting the message across, “Forever, until the world falls down.”
Astarion’s fingers crook in your waistband, and he pulls on it lightly in a silent query for permission. You’re in a tailspin, spiralling into the depths of your desires, and you feel yourself nod before you have even really had time to consider the request.
Astarion strips you, and you’re bared to him entirely. His crimson eyes gorge themselves on the banquet of your pristine snowy skin with such intensity you can feel them dancing across your flesh.
Astarion leans over you, lowering himself in a torturously slow progression, and his lips wrap around your nipple. His tongue flicks over the sensitive peak, and you writhe against him in a hopeless attempt to curb the pang between your legs.
His warm mouth brushes down your stomach, over your belly button, his breath hot and humid. Your body produces heat no longer, but Gods, you feel feverish as if he’s breathing new life into you.
Astarion lifts your leg, trailing chaste kisses down the delicate skin of your inner thigh as he places it over his shoulder. You lurch forward, nearly bounding completely upright, when his tongue laps at your swollen clit. Astarion holds you down, steadfast and unwavering, while he states his fervent hunger with the taste of you. Those eyes look at you through thick lashes full of covetous eroticism that makes your breath hitch in your throat.
His eyes close, and his lips wrap around your sensitive bud, driving you further into bliss. You tangle your fingers in his hair as your body jerks with every sweep and flick of his tongue.
Astarion’s fingers tease your entrance, and he relinquishes his foray of sensation on your swollen flesh. You groan in displeasure at his retreat, and he chuckles deeply, which results in an impetuous scowl from you.
“Oh, don’t be cross, love,” he taunts with a sly smile before he sucks on his fingers, that captivating crimson gaze never letting your eyes retreat. He pulls his fingers out of his mouth with a lewd pop, “When have I ever left you wanting?”
His tongue delves, parting your sex as his fingers sink into you in a slow progression, allowing your body time to adjust. A vulgar and indecent growl resonates from him as he eases in until he’s knuckle-deep.
He twitches the pads of his fingers upward as he starts languid thrusts, hitting your G-spot. Your back arches and hips jerk as he escalates his tempo to harmonize with your breathy whimpers.
He must feel the traction of your release begin because he moans deeply against your tender pearl, and that sound, the embodiment of passion and longing, sends you spiralling overboard. Astarion doesn’t stop the delicious onslaught of sensation until he’s coaxed every splintering pulse out of you. His name cries from your lips in a sonorous, majestic recitation.
Your vision has barely started to clear when his lips catch yours, and you can taste yourself on his breath, driving your desire to new heights while your fingers grapple with the border of his breeches.
“Say you are mine,” he instructs, in a husky tone with those blood-red eyes digging into you, hooded and affectionate, “I want to hear you say it.”
“I’m yours. Please. Gods, please,” you whine in shattered breaths.
In a split second, before you even have time to perceive his movements, Astarion crawls up the bed, his knee hooking yours, spreading your legs wider. His hard cock slides through your folds with a lazy roll of his hip, covering himself in your arousal with a yearning quivering pant.
His swollen head pushes against your entrance. Astarion pushes the stray strands of hair out of your face with a tenderness you haven’t seen since he Ascended, “I will be gentle,” his eyes search yours for hesitation, “Are you ready?”
Ready?
Gods, you have far surpassed simply being ready. You crave him. No, you covet him, selfish and mandatory, and there is nothing that can stop you from drinking him in, “Fuck me, Astarion.”
“Fuck you?” he giggles, “How utterly vulgar,” he teases, “No, darling, I will make love to you unless you have objections, of course…” he trails off.
If you didn’t know better, you would say he was almost unsure of himself.
Make love?
Is it a trick? You can’t tell anymore, you don’t want to tell, and you drive the thoughts out of your mind, blurred by burning lust. You press your lips against him in wordless approval. Panting moans leave his mouth as you stretch to accommodate his girth.
He sputters, his chest heaving and breath snagging, “Hells, love, you’re tight,” he rasps low, clenching his teeth. He immerses his hard length into your wet heat gradually until he’s filled you, claimed you.
The throbbing in your centre bursts anew as he angles himself perfectly, and your nails dig harshly into the silken bed linens. The pads of his fingers find the pulsing collection that swells between your thighs as he starts to pump into you, careful and attentive, raptly watching you for any signs of discomfort.
“I want to hear my name cried from your lips,” he taunts, all provocation and suede baritone, “You will fall apart around my cock, won’t you?”
You know you will. The tension in your muscles is already ballooning with every snap of his hips. Astarion’s fangs drag delicately over your skin. The mix of pain and pleasure is too much, and you mewl in desperation.
“Astarion,” you stammer as your pleasure expands through your limbs, and your core clenches, gripping him, “Fuck, Astarion!”
He gasps, “I can feel you fluttering around my cock,” he stutters, breath hitching in his throat, “Dissolve into rapturous ecstasy around me. Fuck,” he groans, “With me, my love.”
You crest over the pinnacle of your pleasure as ordered, and the shockwaves rocket through you, violent and so brutally you wonder if your heart might have stopped if the grip of death had not already stilled it.
His name rips from your throat poetically, just as yours does from his, and he spills into you with a final, powerful thrust.
Both of you wrest unneeded air into your lungs, chests surging, rising and falling fruitlessly. You’ve let your attachment to him muddle your rationale, but Hells, does it ever feel brilliant.
“Good girl,” he purrs triumphantly.
He expected this all along. You can tell by the saccharine intonation, but you’re too spent to give a damn.
His lips faint over your ear and he whispers, “Hold on me.”
His arm glides around your waist as you wrap yourself around his neck, and he lays down, settling your head on his chest with your leg laced over his.
Astarion exhales a contented breath, and his fingers sweep up and down your arm tenderly, “You are unharmed, yes?”
There is genuine concern drenched in his voice that makes you think of a chapter of your life long gone, and you wince, “I’m alright,” you manage to stammer out, but your voice is as dry as yesterday’s dust.
Astarion jerks as if you’ve struck him at your intonation and uses his hand to cast your eyes toward his. His brows are furrowed as his eyes shift, trying to identify the nuisance parching your sun-baked voice.
“Did I hurt you?” his hand and eyes skim down your body as if looking for an injury or wound that might provide the explanation you’re not giving him.
“No, you didn’t hurt me,” you sigh, bony-weary and forlorn.
“Little love,” he coos, scarlet eyes bleeding into you, threatening to swallow you whole, “tell me, whatever is the matter?”
Before he can interrogate you further, his eyes harden and wrench away, bitter and unkind. Punitive, strident banging rattles the estate’s prodigious door on its hinges.
Astarion groans, trawling his hand across his face, “It’s for you,” he murmurs, irritated.
Your brows scrunch, and your body laments as you sit up with Astarion’s assistance, “How do you know?”
Astarion stares at you cold as a winter pond, “It’s the wizard.”
Gale? No, no, no! Fuck, not now, not here.
I really appreciate everyone who takes the time to read/kudos/comment, etc. It gives me the confidence to keep the story going, and I hope you enjoy reading it as it unfolds!
Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts
If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past
AO3 [Crossposted]
Small Notes:
- Well, Astarion has been exceptionally pleasant for a little while, but how will he react to Gale showing up and how will poor Tav deal with it?
- Tav learned some new things in this chapter. Looks like we have a lot of different things we have to explore!
- The Blood Merchant... Really, Astarion?
#ascended astarion#astarion fanfic#bg3 fanfiction#astarion x reader#bg3 astarion#astarion x tav#astarion x you#astarion#bg3#astarion smut#fangs and fractured hearts
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alright, this goes out to you guys. just gonna build off of this post
(THIS IS ALL JUST MY OPINION, NOT FACT!)
soooo I think the reason there are so many contrasting headcanons is not only because of the open interpretations the games leave, but because of what kinds of kirby media people are introduced to at first. you got the main games, the anime, the mangas, the light novels, etc. which. wow that's a lot of material you can build on. AND CONSIDERING THE AMOUT OF LORE EACH OF THESE TOPICS ARE COOKING???? DAWG WH
and I GUESS I can understand why some hcs are so bizarre in other people's eyes. but the way this fandom handles those different headcanons is...a lil bad.
YES I KNOW THIS ISN'T SPECIFIC TO THE KIRBY FANDOM, but the whole reason why I'm making this is to at least understand why people take it so close to heart.
and. not calling anyone out. but I do see quite a lot of posts with people (critiquing? complaining?) about how popular headcanons "ruin" the fandom (and this goes with ships too, but I'll get into that later) and all I gotta ask is
does it really??? does it really ruin the fandom?
I'm just gonna say. no. it doesn't.
you are focusing on a small percentage out of...oh idk...AN ENTIRE FANBASE? at LEAST open up a little and find a new circle if it is bothering you that much. or better yet. BLOCK! filter out tags!
with the amout of differing kirby medias, please understand that there will be headcanons that will oppose yours and that's okay! just don't be a jerk about it!
--
NOW. with the ships. specifically metadede. gonna try to put my overwhelming bias aside for this one I promise.
though metadede is the most popular ship in the fandom, it still comes with it's critics. and some are. actually valid! such as their relationship doesn't immediately have to be romantic. it can be seen as platonic! and I can understand why people feel that way.
but things get sour when people immediately try to crap on it because in their eyes, and correct me if I'm wrong here, metadede overshadows every other ship in the fandom. you hardly get to hear about their rarepair because of how metadede is everywhere.
if you take a step back and really look. there is a reason it is so popular. because of the LARGE amounts of media they have together. in the games. in the mangas. in smash. in official art. I mean if you wanna count the anime go ahead.
what I'm trying to say here is that compared to any other character interactions, meta knight and dedede are definitely up there for the most interaction in the franchise. and I'm not trying to downplay any rarepairs or other ships with a smaller fanbase.
BUT DON'T BLAME THE SHIPPERS! they are only doing the same as anyone else, they are going off of what they are given by canon and simply building off of that.
though, because I am a metadede shipper myself, you can take this segment with a grain of salt.
---
in conclusion...people can have their different takes. and that's okay! having different opinions is what builds this fandom and draws the attention of so many. but please! do not take any of these takes personal!
If there is a point in here you would like to argue against or build on, feel free to do so. I'm open to any other views.
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Child without love
Summary: Namor finds a marine biologist with the powers to control water and deep knowledge of the sea and is intrigued.
Word count: 1,2k
Tags: Smut in later chapters (no minors allowed), "water-bender" reader x Namor after the events from Wakanda forever, possessive Namor, mutant reader, talk of climate change, asphyxiation, the deep sea being a bit scary, war, violence, harsh language, Wakanda forever spoilers, the usage of y/n, angst, afab reader
Ps. Thank you for all the support!!! I will try to release the chapters weekly from now on. :) As usual, I accept any constructive criticisms in the comments
Masterlist
Chapter 2
At first, I felt cold then I felt a searing pain in my head. When I opened my eyes I was greeted by strings of fluorescent lights hanging from a cave ceiling. Glow worms? I looked around seeing that I was in a tent-like structure made out of rope nets. As soon as I sat up, trying to regain any kind of information as to how I got here. Then it hit me. That man knocked me out! The nerve! Another pulse of that searing pain came over me. I hissed and brought my hand up to my head as a result. Gosh, it hurts. If I get a life-altering concussion then I am suing. Although I am not sure how you sue a possible undercover mutant agent.
I looked around and suddenly realized that I'm not in my swimsuit. In fact, I am in an intricately embroidered brown dress with green accents which means someone changed me whiles I was unconscious. Panic creeps up in me. What is going on?! Before I can think any further I hear a shy voice call out.
I quickly turn around and I see this light blue-skinned girl with a mask over her mouth. She called out again in what I would assume is her language. She walked closer to me and looked at me with her soft brown eyes and then at the bowl of fruits she was holding. She reached out and called once more.
"Is this for me?" I ask while motioning the food to me. She pushes the bowl to me once more. I hesitantly grab a yellow fruit and examine it. It may be poisonous but what can do I? I don't know where I am or if I can find my way home and I'm so hungry. I take a bite. It was tangy and sweet. I kinda liked it. She put the bowl next to me and said something then motioned towards the exit and began walking. I watched her until she stopped and looked at me.
"You want me to follow you?" I asked motioning toward the exit. She said something and waited so I followed her. The cave was gorgeous and surrounded by little vibrant pools of water. She walked me to a little cabin. Once there she opened the curtain entrance to the cabin and waited. Assuming she wanted me to go inside, I went in and she left.
The first thing I noticed was the murals on the walls. It was beautifully painted and upon further inspection, I realized it looked Mayan-inspired though I can't say I'm an expert. Come to think of it, his earrings and jewelry remind me a lot of the ones on these figures in the murals. I noticed a small table filled with more fruits, a bed, and baskets as well as a big ceramic vase. I looked at each of the murals and saw how they portrayed different stories. I was so invested that I nearly stepped foot in a bowl of paint. When I looked up at the mural in front of me, I saw a Mayan warrior fighting a big panther. It seems to be the latest in the collection.
"Do you like it?"
I knew that voice. I turned and saw him. He had more clothes than last time, wearing what seemed to be a shawl. "I do," I answered. "Though I wonder. Did you really kidnap me so that you can show off your room?" He chuckled a little. "No...no I have more important matters to discuss than paintings. Please sit." He motioned to the chair closest to me. I sat down.
"I have watched you for quite some time now." He hands me a glass, I accept it and hesitantly drink. Taste like some kind of tea. " I know of your frustrations with your line of work, constantly being pushed aside for a "quick buck" as you put it." He looked up at me and continued.
"I also know that the only thing that seems to calm you is the sea, the currents' pull is something you greatly appreciate. I believe this is our common interest." He takes a sip of his tea and I find my eyes lingering on his lips. "I fear the leaders of the surface are hoping to take my home's resources and my ally may not be willing to take the necessary actions to protect it. That's where you come in. If we can develop your powers more, it could be the asset we need to keep the leaders of your world from further plundering and polluting our seas."
Wait what does he mean by "leaders of the surface"? Are we not in a cave somewhere? I feel my heartbeat rising. We're underwater. How deep? As if on cue I realize that the nausea and discomfort I've been feeling were not from the hit but from under water pressure. "Who are you? And what is this place?" I ask. He leans back on this chair and takes a deep breath before answering.
"I go by many names. My people call me Auh Ku'kulkan but my enemies call me Namor... As for where we are" He stands up and walks to my side of the table till he's right next to me and staring me down. I kept eye contact. I wish I could say it was because of fear to look away but something was telling me that that was not the only reason. His eyes were drawing me in and I felt a need to follow. "We are in an underwater cave closest to my home, Talokan." He turns away and looks towards the murals. "We have stayed hidden for centuries. Away from those who seek to exploit us and what we have. But recent events have forced us to consider revealing ourselves." He begins to walk back to his seat. "Of course now that you know this I cannot let you leave regardless of your personal wishes." with that he sat down.
"What happens if I refuse to help you?" I asked.
"You will remain here till you die. If you try to escape you will be killed." He said bluntly and took a bite of one of the fruits by the table. My shoulders sank. Is this all real? A fish man and an underwater civilization at the brink of war with the world above and he's asking for me to choose between living as his soldier or imprisonment? This is too much to take in. Seeing my internal struggle he takes my hand in his. "I am not asking of anything that you will regret but I understand that you may need time to process the idea. I will give you a day." He calls out in another language and the blue-skinned woman comes in. They converse and then he turns to me and says.
"This is Zyanya. She will be your caretaker and show you where you will stay." He then motions for me to go which I do. Zyanya brings me back to the tent but this time it's covered in big tapestries so you can no longer see the worms from inside. I move towards the bed and begin to take off my jewelry. Reality starts to set in. How am I going to leave? Will I ever be able to see my friends again? I begin to tear up until finally, I break down and cry like I've never done before. I feel Zyanyas hand rubbing my back. Am I ever going to be free from this?
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Heya! Hope you're doing well <3
So I have a world building question that I've been curious about for a while now, and I hope you're interested in answering; what would Cybertronian literature be like? Would they have fictional stories, or would it mostly be history texts and such?
If they did have fictional stories, I doubt they would have many, if any, romance books since they're obviously not a romantic species like humans. Would superhero stories with outliers be a thing? (Can't remember if outliers are viewed as bad or not). Would fantasy stories with like, Predacons be popular or would they be frowned upon with some mechs because of their history with them? (Looking at you, Kup and Autoway)
Hm, I wonder if stories with organic aliens would be a hit or not...
Considering how well Cybertron was doing before the war, I'd imagine their fiction stories weren't at the level and/or had the amount that are on Earth. Or would it have nothing to do with the state of Cybertron and more with that it was scoffed at?
My brain is just going wild with all the ways that this could turn out, but what I really, really want to know if they have fanfiction. Wait, would Orion write fanfiction??!! Dammit, Orion fangirling over a character has taken root in my brain
That wraps that whirlwind of an ask. Don't forget to not overwork yourself and stay hydrated! ❤️
Lore time?!?! Fantastic. So sorry its been *counts fingers* three to four months??? The writing vibe has been very picky as of late. Doing my best over here to answer asks from months back o(￣┰￣*)ゞ
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Literature on Cybertron is a curious thing. Culture varies wildly from city to city, but due to governmental influence everywhere, a large portion of the consumable literature on the datanet follows a certain structure. Information is highly controlled, and thus, only literature that supports or otherwise agrees with the government is allowed to exist on any public platform. Things that do not conform with the regulations put down are deleted immediately. Thus the literature that is deemed "safe" is often bland, preachy, or straight up propaganda. While Cybertron's population may have tolerated the Council due to a lack of fighting capability at the time, they also weren't fools. Not a spark enjoyed the aft kissing works produced by those who couldn't be bothered to be original.
Thus the underbelly of literature came into being, a hidden series of trade networks and secret websites created to keep the quality writing safe from the Council. Most of the hidden works consisted of data from all over the planet, the things that the Council kept hidden. Police reports, body cam videos, documents, records, trade reports, incident reports, historical documents struck from the records, information on mecha who "vanished", and so much more. Everything one could ever want information was was down there in the dark parts of the datanet. Such things always came with a price attached.
If one wanted data, it needed to be paid for. Shanix was too easy to track, and so instead information was traded. Data for data, knowledge for knowledge. It was in the darker parts of the datanet that the Archives collected much of their... more confidential information. Alpha Trion never tolerated the loss of critical information and there were whole groups under his control dedicated to collecting what he wanted from those who possessed the knowledge. There were entire wars online when it came to data, some that even resulted in doxing and death. The world was dangerous, and with the Council hunting for any and all information, literature was a prized resource reserved for those with the ability to trade for it. Orion and Soundwave both were very well oriented with the trading performed on the datanet. They were well known under their online tags and both maintained very active information broking circles up until the war began. Even then, both managed to keep weaseling data out of their sources up until Cybertron went dark.
Then of course there was the less professional corners of the darker parts of the datanet. Works of fiction were by no means unusual, but they were only produced by mecha with certain... tastes. Most were not lacking in imagination, but rather the ability to make their visions legible. The ability to properly produce a work of fiction was, more often than not, difficult for the average mech to do. Most works of fiction came from the middle castes or the upper lower castes. Higher caste bots were not allowed to write anything serious for fear of backlash, and the lower castes simply did not have the time more often than not. As such, only the highly biased middle castes had any ability to produce fiction at all.
Sci-fi did not exist as a genre, for quite obvious reasons. More often than not, what fiction came into being tended to fall into several categories which matched the desires of the middle castes. Courtly drama was a world renown and beloved genre. Every mech ran into a work in the genre at least once, and the themes usually revolved around the main character either climbing the social ladder to get into the higher castes or somehow evading their hold to achieve something. It was wish fulfillment at its finest, but the middle castes adored the genre as it satisfied the desires they had. Ratchet wrote one surprisingly well performing novel about climbing the ladder to become CMO. It was based off his own experiences, and while not exactly popular, medics everywhere all universally knew of his novel, although not a spark knew he wrote it.
The second biggest genre was rather specific, and it happened to be the caste change genre. Every bot wished they were something else for the most part. As such, there was a plethora of documents that focused around a mech from one caste either moving up or down the chain and having to adapt to the new way of life. The cultural differences around Cybertron played their part in the caste change genre as mecha from all over the planet learned from and wrote their novels. Many serious misconceptions came from the novels of that type, but it tended to create a sense of tolerance amongst the population more often than not. Even still, there were more than a few crimes committed due to rather ridiculous misunderstandings regarding local culture from individuals who only learned from novels. While not common knowledge, Starscream wrote an incredibly well received novel with completely made up cultural norms for Vos that were so widely accepted that grounders everywhere got arrested en mass until the government stepped in. Starscream has yet to stop finding it amusing.
The third most popular genre was the only one the lower castes could feasibly relate to, and it happened to be about police and murder mystery. The stories had no set formula, unlike the prior two popular genres. However they almost always involved the main character eliminating some scum of the Earth, uncovering a deep dark secret, or putting an end to a horrific criminal underworld. It was pure wish fulfillment from middle caste mecha who knew just enough to want to change things, but didn't have the guts to actually go out and take a stand. Jazz wrote his fair share of novels relating to the subject, one of which became so popular that he ended up changing his identity twice and faked his death once in order to escape any connection to it. He didn't learn until vorns later that his novel, which was based on a real mystery, had actually solved a well covered Council kept secret.
Lastly there was the religiously oriented works of fiction. The genre itself was incredibly niche due to the differing beliefs and delicate nature of faith on Cybertron. But the few who wrote for the subject were masters of their craft. Usually they were artist renditions of old tales, retellings of myth and legend, or even fictional takes on the lives of old Primes. Highly heretical in nature, very few stepped into the genre of Primacy related anything. The Council was always on the lookout for such novels, and thus those who wrote them were far more likely to vanish under mysterious circumstances. What novels were written often didn't last long. The only three novels that made it out alive amidst the harsh censoring happened to be a set of novels written by Orion Pax in collaboration with Senator Shockwave and a novel done by none other than D-16 himself. The three novels all showed urban legends and tales from all three castes and were beloved globally, even if every physical copy was destroyed on sight.
Orion, and later Optimus Prime largely forgot about his written work. Unbeknownst to him, Megatron has kept a copy of his work and the two other novels. He has no clue Optimus and Shockwave wrote them, but he adores them and have lovingly gone into English teacher mode more times than one could count to find the deeper meaning behind everything. Humanity's love for 1984, To Kill a Mockingbird, and Dante's Inferno is the level of adoration Megatron holds for the three novels on his shelf.
There were other stories of course. Fantasy novels set far into Cybertron's distant past made purely off imagination and globally mocked by those who lived long enough to see the early days of Cybertron. A genre akin to Romance that focused on companionship and starcrossed designs put in place by Primus. Strange tales made by those on Colony worlds going into depth on organics and their cultures. Heroic stories focusing around Primus's chosen and champions of the people. Underdog tales with Outliers coming out of hiding or breaking their bonds to be free and express themselves as they saw fit...
The stories were diverse, but all were hidden. Every mech read them, but none spoke of them aloud. Literature was the quiet universal culture of Cybertron prior to the war.
#transformers#maccadam#cybertronian worldbuilding#cybertronian culture#pre war cybertron#megatron#ratchet#jazz#optimus prime#orion pax#soundwave#shockwave#worldbuilding#this was fun to write#took forever to get to because I thought it would be hard#guess not
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Idk about y'all but Lee Know seems like someone who puts on the bad boy, “dom” façade until someone comes along to put him in in his place. He gives me bratty vibes, I feel like he'd refuse to completely give the power to someone else that is until they tame bratty!Minho.
Smut under the cut!
Word Count: 427 (basically a drabble)
A/N: Over the past two weeks I've had nothing but brain rot about Sub!Minho. So here is this, I hope y'all enjoy this originally took me five hours to write but Tumblr closed the app as I was writing this and lost some of the original content, and I kept going.
Warnings: Dom!reader, edging, brat!Minho, gender neutral, Degredation, Name-calling, Sub!Minho (mayhaps missed some?; idk let me know)
(Constructive criticism is appreciated as well as comments and reblogs since liking doesn’t really do much.)
I feel like he'd be secretly into degradation and gets off on being called, “cum slut” and his partner saying, “What would your fans think of you, Minho?” he'd be looking up at y/n with a scowl on his face all while feeling the tightening of his cock. Thinking about how his body could betray him like this, y/n would roughly dig their fingers into his pretty cheeks as they get on his level and mock him, “aww, is my pretty boy upset?”.
“Your face says one thing, but your mind and body say another. Am I not right?” He remained quiet. “Answer me when I'm talking to you.” Y/N hissed. He looked directly into Y/N's eyes, “No you're not.” he snapped back. Y/N stared in disbelief. “Oh, is that so?” she grabbed a fistful of Minho’s hair pulling his neck back as a low moan escape his lips. Y/N's hands made their way into his pants grabbing his swollen, sensitive cock. Y/n’s slid their thumb over Minho’s precum-covered head and pumped him slowly. Minho’s whines clearly showed how much he enjoyed being manhandled.
“What would your fans think about their favorite idol being a submissive, little cum-slut?” He was hoping Y/N wouldn't see right through him. Minho noticed Y/N get closer to him, “I bet, your fans would think you're a disgusting pervert, isn't that right?” she feigned a smile. A low moan slipped out of him in agreement as he gripped the sheets underneath him, fuck. His chest began to rise and fall more rapidly with each pump and the pleasure was beginning to cloud his mind.
Y/N noticed how easily he was coming undone and was cherishing how fucked out he looked with his lips gaping open, Minho looked delicious and Y/N wanted to punish him for snapping back earlier. And so Y/N did, the slow pumps turned into rapid ones and a high-pitched cry escaped him. “Fuck, please...” he trailed off, “Use your words.” Y/N demanded. He hummed in pure bliss fighting between his cock and his smart mouth but he couldn't, his moans were becoming more pathetic and he felt weak as his core begged for release.
“I’m cum-” Minho’s release was cut short and sobbed as he no longer felt y/n’s hand on his throbbing cock. “No, don't do this. Please let me cum.” He begged desperately as he felt tears rolling down his cheeks. “That’ll teach you to talk back to me, whore.” Y/n said as they left him high and dry on the mattress looking completely disheveled and exposed.
Tags: @taehyungsgrowl
#sub!idol#sub!lee know#sub!skz#dom!y/n#dom!reader#skz drabbles#skz smut#sub!minho#lee know#lee know x reader#ximes’ inferno#sub!kpop#skz x reader#lee minho x y/n#lee minho smut#femdom!reader
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After a very thoroughly singling out my favorite smut prompts, I'd like to request:
Either
20. “I’m gonna fuck you so good you forget all about that bastard.” or
5. “I can’t pull out when you wrap your legs around me like that.”
(or maybe both? 👀) With a feral Hunter
Sorry I couldn't decide 🫣 - I'm just down bad for him. Have a nice day
I'll Take Care of You
Summary: Hunter takes care of you when you fall apart.
Pairing: TBB Hunter x Reader
Word Count: 1492
Warnings: Smut, Reader has an abusive boyfriend, infidelity
Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni
A/N: I don't know if I like this one. I think I might be to critical, but Hunter feels hard to write for me. Almost as hard as Tech. Dos it saw something about me that I have the easiest time writing about Crosshair? And now I actually do have to go, lol. My husband took a nap so I could write this.
You’ve been friends, or at least friendly, with Hunter for ages now. Since he moved with his brothers and younger sister to Pabu, actually. He’s always happy to offer his help around your house, though you’ve never actually asked for his help.
You like to joke that he has a sixth sense that’s directed towards knowing when you need help around your house.
He likes to joke that it’s called “big brother” senses, and that he just knows when the people closest to him need help.
And while Hunter is very attractive, and you kind of hoped for more than just friendship, his comment makes you think that you’re solidly in the kid sibling category in his mind. So you mentally shrug, and turn your attention elsewhere.
Which wouldn’t have been a problem, except when you did find a boyfriend, Hunter would scrunch up his nose whenever he came around you. Quietly, he admitted that you smell like your new boyfriend and it’s not exactly a pleasant odor to be exposed to.
And you felt so bad at the time, that you made sure that you showered whenever Hunter was going to come over, and you also made sure that your boyfriend never came over to your house. Should you have put Hunter over your boyfriend? Probably not, but you did.
It seemed to help, for a time. Hunter smiled a little more, and didn’t scrunch up his nose quite so much when he was around you. And it was going well…for a bit.
Until your boyfriend starts making demands.
“Spend less time with the clones.”
“Spend more time with me.”
“If you loved me, you would let me move in with you.”
“If you loved me you would give me half of your paycheck.”
“Since you won’t let me live with you, it’s only right that you pay my rent.”
“I can’t believe you spend so much time with other men. Stop being such a whore.”
It’s…a lot. Too much, really.
And it all comes to a head late one afternoon, when Hunter’s helping you repair your broken sink. You’re putting your clean dishes away, and you drop a plate, and it shatters into pieces.
And you stare at the broken plate while Hunter moves to get a broom and tells you to stay put so you don’t get hurt, and you just fall apart. Hunter, being the godsend that he is, manages to pull you somewhere safe, and then he proceeds to ignore the broken plate in favor of comforting you.
And as he holds you and strokes your hair and tells you that it’s just a plate, that it’s not the end of the world-
You spill everything. Every cruel word. Every demand. Every little thing your boyfriend does that makes you feel worthless. And his hands stop moving. His hands rest gently on the top of your head, and your face is pressed against his neck, and you want nothing more than to hide in him, because Hunter has always been you’re safe place to land, but he’s not yours-
And then Hunter’s hands are on your shoulders, and he pushes you back, just enough that he’s able to see your face. You have tears in your eyes, and on your cheeks, and he’s so furious that his lips are pressed into a thin line.
But his touch is so, so gentle when he brushes a tear off your cheek with his thumb.
He scans your face for a moment, “Stars, I’m fucked.” Hunter mumbles, and then his hand slides to the back of your neck and he crashes his lips against yours.
You’re surprised, but Hunter has always been your first choice, so it takes very little time for you to curl your hands in his shirt, and to kiss him back.
He releases a noise that can only be called a growl and he walks you backwards until your back bumps into your bedroom door. Hunter uses his lips and teeth and tongue to devastating effect, and it takes an embarrassingly short amount of time before you’re whimpering and whining for him.
He pulls away from you just long enough to open your bedroom door, and then his lips are on your neck, biting and sucking marks onto your skin, as he walks you backwards to your bed.
You squeak as you fall back on your bed, and you blink up at Hunter as he doesn’t follow you to the bed. Instead he stands over you, his gaze dark with desire, as he pulls his shirt off and throws it to the side. “We should stop,” He rumbles low in his chest.
You reach out for him, “Probably,” You agree.
He climbs over you, and crashes his lips against yours, his hands sliding under your thin shirt, his fingers gently exploring your body, “Wanted to do this for ages,” Hunter mumbles against your lips, “Thought you were happy.”
You tangle one of your hands in his hair, “You were always my first choice.” You admit quietly.
He closes the distance between you, short as it is. The next time he pulls away, it’s only for long enough to peel your shirt off, and toss it somewhere in the room, before attaching his lips to your collar, intent to leave marks everywhere you allow it.
“My perfect beautiful cyare,” He groans against you as he slides down your body, removing your clothes as he does so, “I’m going to fuck you so good, you forget all about that bastard.”
You release a quiet whine, and you lightly tug on his hair to pull him back up so you’re able to kiss him, something that he’s more than happy to go along with, based on how he curls an arm around you, and impatiently kicks how own pants off his legs, leaving them sitting on the edge of the bed rather than fully tossing them out of the way.
He grinds his hard length against you and a quiet moan falls from you, “Hunter, please.” Your voice is soft.
He rains feather light kisses all across your face, “I have you cyare.” Hunter promises, one of his hands sliding down your body to lazily slide between your folds, “You’re so wet, mesh’la.”
You press your face against his neck at his words, feeling a flush of embarrassment, and Hunter lets you for a moment, “Don’t hide from me, cyare.” he coos, “Love it. Love how wet I make you. Wanna spend the rest of my life making you feel amazing-” He murmurs into your ear, and then he lightly pats your hip, “Lift up a little, cyare. Need to remove these,” He lightly snaps the elastic to your underwear against your skin.
You squeak, but do as he asks, allowing him to slide the flimsy material down your legs and toss them to the side.
The moment you’re both bare, he sits back on his heels and just stares down at your body. Hunter uses his hands to trail over the newly exposed skin, exploring you with his fingers and his eyes, and then he leans in to explore your body with his lips and tongue.
“I wonder,” He murmurs as his lips trail to your nipples, “Can I make you fall apart just like this.” It’s an absent comment, more to himself than you, and then his gaze meets yours, and you note the glimmer of mischief on his face. “I bet I can.”
And then his lips are around your nipple, and he takes his sweet time. Licking, sucking, and gently nips, paired with feather light touches across your thighs, and ghosting touches over where you need him the most-
It doesn’t take long for him to push you over the edge, his hair tight in your fingers and his name a prayer on your lips.
But it’s not enough. And a sly smile crosses his face when you, breathlessly, tell him so. “Don’t worry, angel. I’m nowhere close to being done with you.”
**********
The following day, there’s a knock on your door. And you, too exhausted from your night with Hunter, don’t even stir. Hunter, however, does.
So he pulls on his pants, and he saunters to the door. And when he opens the door, he leans against the frame and smirks at your now ex. He doesn’t even bother to try and hide the marks you left on his body.
Hunter’s voice is very pleasant, even if it’s a little rough, “I suggest you walk away.” The ex flushes, and opens his mouth to say something, only to get cut off by Hunter, “You made her cry. You made her feel worthless. You’re lucky I haven’t shot you. Leave.”
Hunter watches him stalk away, and then shuts the door. Only to hear your soft voice from the bedroom, “Hunter?”
A slow smirk crosses his face, “I’ll be right back, mesh’la.” He calls to you.
#star wars#tcw#tbb hunter x reader#hunter x reader#18+ fic#clone thirsting#star wars fanfiction#x reader fanfiction#answered asks
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Accidental Chemistry - Part 1: New Beginnings
This is dedicated to the incredible @duskwhisperer. Thank you, love, for sending me the idea for this fic and letting me run with it. 💜 I'm very excited to finally share this story with you all. I don't have set posting dates, but I'm hoping to dedicate more time to this fic after I finalize IDBTWY. Until then, I hope you enjoy this first part! 💕
My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics
My ao3 account: tswaney17
Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕
Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘
Trigger warnings: language
Word Count: 4,982
This fic will be posted on AO3 only. Read the beginning below or click here to head to AO3.
Azriel was sitting at Rhys and Feyre’s dining room table, feeling particularly suspicious as to why he had been invited over for dinner. It wasn’t that he never had dinner with them. It’s that usually, it wasn’t just him.
“How’s work, Az?” Feyre asked, spearing the asparagus on her plate.
He took a sip of his wine. “It’s good. I’ve finally filled the last tech position that’s been open so I have a full team now. She’s fitting in well and is super quick in picking up new information.”
“Does she have prior experience?”
“Not really. She’s a recent graduate and was looking for entry-level in the industry. To be honest, most places would’ve passed on her for the lack of experience, but I thought she could be molded into what we need while growing her skillset.”
Rhys smirked. “You put in the work and you get a long-term employee.”
He tipped his glass towards his brother. “Exactly.”
Feyre pushed her chair back. “Let me grab dessert,” she announced, noticing both men were finished with their main courses. She returned a few minutes later holding three plates with small, pastry-like cups filled with cream and covered in blueberries.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Lemon and blueberry verbena tarts,” she said like he had any idea what the fuck that meant.
Az eyed the dessert, taking a bite and letting the tartness from the lemon slide across his tongue before settling with the blueberry’s sweetness. His brows raised in surprise. It was good. Like really good. He glanced at the female sitting across from him. “Did you make this, Fey?”
She laughed, head tipping back. “Oh heavens no. My sister made it. Elain. You remember Elain, right?”
He shot her a puzzled look at the turn of questions. “Yeah, vaguely.” Lie.
Read More
~~~~~
Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕
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#accidental chemistry#elriel#elain#elain archeron#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#elain x az#elain x azriel#azriel x elain#elain and azriel#azriel and elain#elriel fic#elriel fanfic#elriel fanfiction#tswaney17#tswaney17fics#tay writes#my writing#fanfic#fanfiction#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acofas#acosf
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Raring
Pairing: Joakim “Jolly” Karlsson x reader
Word Count: 863 Cross posted Wattpad
cw / tags: smut, breeding kink
18 + MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Authors note: Alrighty I’ve decided to finally start posting my fanfics I have always wrote them just for me but never posted any publicly and decided to finally just bite the bullet and go for it. I am gonna apologize in advanced I’m not very skilled my grammar and spelling may be slacking but desperate times come desperate measures. There is simply not enough bad omens fanfics especially not about Jolly, Nicholas and Folio so that’s what I’m gonna shoot mainly for. Noah gets enough attention as it is so now it’s the rest of the bands turn. That being said if you have any suggestions or ideas DM me or put it in my ask and I’ll do what I can to write for you 🖤 I am still down to write about Noah I’d just really prefer the other three especially Joakim because he is the love of my life even if he doesn’t know it yet 😅
I love criticism. Tell me what you like and what you don’t. Feel free to drop suggestions. Just bare with me I will eventually get the hang of this lol.
P. S. I suck at titles so I apologize I’m advanced for that
Joakim had managed to seduce you into bed for the 3rd time today already having made you cum once with his mouth and once with his fingers before whisking you off to the bedroom yet again.
He practically throws you back onto on the bed before quickly stripping out of clothes and climbing on top of you kissing you hungrily. He takes his time marking you covering your breasts in hickies before roughly pinning your arms above your head and forcing your legs apart.
He grabs his shaft and roughly slides his tip up and down your folds teasing your clit with it covering himself in your slick arousal. You were already so sensitive it almost hurt. Your entire body shuddered in response to his cruelty. You can't help but try to grind your hips against him desperate for some relief.
"Ah...fuck Joakim please" you cry out "Just fuck me already!"
"Such a needy girl aren't you baby" he chuckles lining himself up with your entrance before slowly sinking into you bottoming himself out. He stills deep inside you giving you a moment to adjust to the familiar sting of his size. He leans down and kisses you sweetly before slowly pulling himself almost all the way out of your soaked cunt. He roughly slams his cock back into you making you yelp into his kiss bringing tears to your eyes from the oversensitivity.
He can feel you clenching around him quickly building up to your third orgasm of the evening and knows you won't last much longer. He also knows the second he feels you spasm around him releasing yourself all over him he will instantly be a goner too.
"Where do you want me to cum pretty girl?" He rasps hot breath tickling your neck "do you want me to fill you up? Put a baby in you?" he teases
His words cause you involuntarily clench harder around his throbbing cock. Joakim notices, smiling deviously down at you as he continues thrusting roughly in and out of you.
" I see, I see" he chuckles darkly "you love the idea of me filling you up don't you Princess?"
His words alone are making your head spin your third orgasm growing closer and closer with every passing second. He thrusts deeper, and faster than you thought possible his massive cock brushing against your cervix with each stroke pushing you closer and closer to coming completely undone around him.
"You want me to fuck a baby into you don't you Raring? You love the idea of being round with MY baby" you moan in response and he shakes his head clicking his tongue at you before brushing your hair off of your sweat slick forehead and tucking it behind your ear
"Use your words baby. Look me in the eyes and tell me what you want from me" he coos using his thumb to lightly circle your clit, teasing you just enough to leave you whimpering and begging for more.
"Please, please Daddy use me" you begged looking into his eyes struggling to get the words out between feverish moans "I need you to fill me I wanna feel you "
His eyes darken. He grips your hips so tightly you are certain there will be bruises tomorrow. He thrusts into you with such force it causes the bed frame to slam against the wall with each stroke.
"I know you're close baby, let go cum for me" he groans and that was all it took to send you toppling over the edge. You screamed out his name clawing at his forearms as he continued to hold you still and thrust into you with all his might. A few seconds later he spills into you filling you with his warm cum. He collapses on top of you sweaty and out of breath. You both lay in silence trying to catch your breaths as you feel him soften still inside you. You absentmindedly play with his hair brushing it out of his face while rubbing his upper back.
After a few more minutes of cuddles he finally pulls himself off of you, both of you wincing as he pulls out. You attempt to get up to clean yourself but he pushes you back down hovering above you.
"Nope. uh uh I was serious y/n"
You furrow your eyebrows in confusion
"I am giving you a baby. You are gonna lay your ass down and stay there filled with my cum. You better get used to it because it's gonna be a daily occurrence until I finally make you a mom" he says
"I'd like that" you smile up at him "for the record I think you would be an amazing daddy"
He smiles and leans down kissing your forehead, then your belly then your lips before climbing out of bed and cleaning himself up. He throws on a pair of joggers and gently helps you a pull on a pair of panties and his t shirt careful not to spill any of his seed before turning on a movie and pulling you into his chest where you doze off dreaming of your future family
#bad omens band#jolly#jolly karlsson#Jolly fanfic#joakim jolly karlsson#joakim Karlsson fanfic#Bad omens smut#bad omens fan fic
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The Paradis Marriage Pact
Author: taomyou
Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader
Summary: Do you believe in soulmates? No.
Do you believe that Jean's coding project can introduce you to someone special? Not really, but your mind can be changed.
Word Count: 6.1k
Tags: modern au, university au, strangers to lovers, fluff, meet-cute, matchmaking, one-shot
The Paradis Marriage Pact
"Hey, do you think Levi believes in soulmates?" Hange asks, looking up from their laptop at Erwin. The two friends are in a study lounge reviewing for midterms, but it seems that Hange's taking a break since they're asking weird questions.
"I'm not sure. Why do you ask?"
To that, Hange angles their screen towards Erwin so he can see what they're looking at. The website they're on looks simple enough: it seems just like any other standard testing site. "This second-year in my biotech lecture sent out the link to everyone! It's a matchmaking form for students here!"
Looking closer at the screen, he sees "PARADIS MARRIAGE PACT" in big, bold letters at the top of the page. What's this got to do with whether or not Levi believes in soulmates?
"You didn't answer my question, Hange. What are you planning?"
Hange dramatically leans back into the sofa, arms crossed and a sinister grin on their face. "I'm filling this out on our dear friend's behalf!"
"And does our dear friend know about this?"
"Of course not!" Hange laughs, "he'd skin me alive if he knew!"
"Well, you're right about that," says Erwin.
Hange nods at him before moving back to their earlier position closer to the table in front of them. "Wanna help me fill it out?"
With a laugh, Erwin shakes his head but starts putting away his own laptop and books. Once his bag is zipped, he scoots over to sit closer to Hange. "Sure, why not?"
"Really? I'll text Levi and ask about the whole soulmates thing, but we can just skip that for now!"
♡
"I don't wanna take it!"
"You can't not take it! The rest of us just did it!"
"Yeah, Connie's right," Sasha says, poking at your shoulder.
You groan and swat her hand away.
You and your friends have spent the last several hours in one of the library study rooms. Connie organized it as a "group study session," but you're sure you and Jean are the only ones actually being productive. You're not sure about Connie since you can't see his screen from where you're sitting, but Sasha's spent this entire time playing Overcooked! 2 in multiplayer mode with who you assume is him. Then, about 30 minutes ago, Connie started complaining about his engineering midterm, which prompted Sasha to complain about her physics midterm, which then prompted Jean to talk about his semester-long coding project.
"Could you guys fill this out? I need at least a thousand participants by the end of next week to get an A on this, and I already sent it to everyone I could," Jean asked, forwarding the link to the group chat.
You click on it and are brought to the website.
PARADIS MARRIAGE PACT: Fall in love today!
Leave it to Jean to choose to make a matchmaking website for his final project. Sasha and Connie found the premise to be quite fun, whereas you rolled your eyes at the page.
"Love calculators already exist," you criticized, exiting out of the tab immediately. Jean flipped you off from across the table, not appreciating your comment.
Which brings you to now, where Connie, Sasha, and Jean have been trying to pressure you into filling out the Paradis Marriage Pact. You don't really get why they want you specifically to do it, since you know Jean's popular and he could probably get enough responses, but it's probably more about annoying you than it is them actually wanting you to find the love of your life.
"If you need responses so bad, I can use my extra emails to spam random answers," you offer.
Jean shakes his head, tutting loudly. "You have to input your school email. Besides, if those answers paired you with someone who made the Pact honestly, they'd be heartbroken."
"So? Serves them right for taking some random sophomore's mandatory coding project seriously."
Connie and Sasha burst into laughter, which earns them a glare from Jean. You sigh dramatically and rest your head on your hand.
"Don't be mean! I put a lot of effort into this project!"
You never doubted that he did, him being a CS major, but it was still entertaining to poke fun at him.
"I have an idea! Why don't we fill it out for her?" Sasha suggests, and you see her open the link to start typing in your name. You immediately perk up and try to get her to stop, but she hurriedly picks up her laptop and rushes over to the other side of the table where Jean and Connie huddle closer to her. "Do either of you know her school email?"
"She forwarded me something a while ago, I can check," Connie says, opening his own laptop to find your information.
It's then that you know that you can either do it yourself or let these fools try to guess how you'd answer, and one of those possibilities is infinitely worse than the other.
"Okay, fine! I'll do it!"
All of them smile and immediately get up to crowd you, the sound of their rolling chairs filling the room as they push them to your side of the table. Sasha offers her laptop to you, and you place it on top of one of your textbooks. You type in your school email and some other information, and then you're brought to your first prompt.
It's okay that my partner drinks.
□ Agree
□ Disagree
You check off the box for 'agree' and move on. The next couple of questions are easy enough, just asking what activities you're okay with, but your friends are still watching you intensely, and it unnerves you slightly.
After confirming that you are, in fact, not okay with your partner doing hard drugs, you're faced with the next question.
Do you believe in soulmates?
□ Yes
□ No
You click on 'no,' but before you're able to tap the button to move on, Jean speaks up.
"What do you mean, 'no?'"
You turn to face him, completely deadpan and unamused. "You made this quiz, why would you even ask if you're gonna get butthurt about people not agreeing with you?"
"It's not about that! You just seem like you'd be into that sort of thing."
You hum, looking back at your screen. "Nah, I think soulmates are kinda stupid."
♡
Midterms came and went, but that "end of next week" deadline came even quicker for Jean. He managed to get the thousand answers he needed for the chance at an A, but he was stressed as all hell up until the very last day when he finally got enough participants. Unfortunately, it didn't get easier for him since he's been stressing about the next part of the assignment, so you, Sasha, and Connie decided to invite him out to dinner to try and help him destress. It's probably not working if all he's doing is complaining about his professor.
"Seriously, what kind of professor requires a thousand participants in that amount of time? This is a lower-division coding class, for fuck's sake, not Advanced Media Advertising!" He complains, taking a long sip of his soda.
"He sounds terrible, but, hey, at least you got enough answers," says Connie.
You and Sasha nod along while Jean takes another sip before speaking again.
"You guys don't get it! He's the actual devil! You guys are so lucky you'll never have to take his class!"
"What's left for you to do, anyway?" You ask.
"There's a report I have to write. I have to prove my project was successful, too, so I gotta find a couple that the program matched."
"And how exactly are you going to do that?"
"The program should've sent everyone an email with their match's name and contact information by now. I just need a couple to reply to it and agree to get interviewed."
"Man, good luck with that, nobody checks their email," Connie winces.
Jean buries his face in his hands, groaning in agony. "I know! That's why I'm still so worried!"
"Couldn't you just lie?" Sasha inquires.
Jean shakes his head. "The professor wants the audio from the interview and a picture of the couple together. It's so fucking stupid, what do either of those things even have to do with the class?" Suddenly, his face brightens, and now he's looking between you, Sasha, and Connie. "Can't one of you guys just go out with your match? Oh, I'm a fucking genius!"
The three of you awkwardly make eye contact with one another, mostly to avoid looking at Jean himself.
"Uh, dude, I don't really think any of us are up for that," Connie says.
"Yeah. Don't get me wrong, the questionnaire was fun to do as, like, a personality quiz, but I'm not down," Sasha adds.
Jean's face falls, and he turns to look at you.
By now, his hands are in a prayer position.
The likelihood of anyone getting back to the email Jean sent is slim-to-none, nevermind the likelihood of a couple replying.
You know how hard he works—the two of you study together practically every other day in the library—and despite his popularity, he's not one to go out often, instead staying in to work on projects or research. He really is adamant about doing well on this project and you know he could somehow make it out with a decent grade, but maybe you could do this tiny favor to help him out. It's not like it'd be all that hard, right? Meeting with your match and getting interviewed doesn't sound like too much of a hassle, especially since you're already close with Jean.
You can't really believe that you're choosing to help him, considering how much of a fight you put up when you were asked to take the Pact in the first place, but whatever. You smile at Jean and give him a thumbs-up.
"Sure, I got you."
Jean practically jumps out of his seat to give you a hug, laughing and smiling brightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
You give him a firm pat on the back before prying him away from you so he can go back to his seat. "Really, thank you so much! This makes everything so much easier!"
You blush in embarrassment, not really used to affection from Jean, but hey. He looks like a weight's been lifted off his chest, and that's why you're all out tonight anyway. "Yeah, yeah, let me check my email for a name, though."
Jean eagerly nods, a smile still on his face. Sasha and Connie don't look like they have anything to say, but they pay attention to you, probably also excited to know who your match is.
You don't have any sort of hopes for who it could be, not having your eye on anyone anyway, but you just hope they're understanding enough to agree to an interview. You open your mail app and tap on the "Search mail" prompt to type in "Paradis Marriage Pact." There's only one email related to your search, so you click on it to find your match's name in big, dark letters.
"Any of you guys know somebody named Levi Ackerman?"
♡
Somewhere in an empty lecture hall across campus, Hange, Levi, and Erwin are all lazing around after their last class. Levi's laptop is connected to the projector, and he's just scrolling through different streaming sites.
"Why the fuck are we even in here? We can just watch something at home."
"Because, Levi, tuition's too expensive to not make use of the grand halls at our disposal!"
"Imagine not being a scholarship student."
Erwin and Hange laugh, and the latter gets up from their seat to go over to Levi to help him choose something to watch. He refuses them at first, but they just shove him around enough to get him to give up and go sit where they just were. In the middle of some more aimless scrolling, they notice that there's a tab opened to Levi's email.
Hange did overhear someone last week telling that second-year that they got their results back from the Paradis Marriage Pact, so they get the stupid genius idea to try and look through Levi's email for his match. Switching tabs, they type in "Paradis Marriage Pact" into the "Search mail" prompt.
"Oi! What the fuck are you doing?" Levi exclaims.
Hange waves him off, not looking up from the screen. Erwin just has to sit back and watch it all unfold in front of him, the projector magnifying everything that Hange's doing. Finding the unopened email, they click on it and see a name printed in the same font as the initial title for the questionnaire page. Next to the name is a phone number.
Levi still doesn't really understand what Hange's doing, but whatever it is can't be good. He gets up again and rushes for his laptop, disconnecting it from the projector and closing it before Hange can try anything else.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Nothing!" Hange nervously laughs and looks past Levi's shoulder at Erwin for back up.
Levi follows their eyes over to the man as well. Erwin gets up from his seat, joining the other two at the front of the hall.
"Just forget it, Hange. It was already wrong of us to submit answers for Levi."
"Again, what the fuck are you guys talking about? And what the fuck is the 'Paradis Marriage Pact?' Did you sign me up for a mail-order bride or something?"
Hange extends out both their arms, frantically waving off the accusations and shaking their head. "No, no! This kid in my biotech programed some matchmaking site, so I thought it'd be neat to submit something for you," Hange explains.
Levi exhales deeply, pinching his nose between his fingers. "So you think I need help from a fucking website to find a girlfriend? Just how pathetic do you think I am?"
"You literally have not dated since, like, high school!"
"And? That's a problem how?"
Erwin puts a hand on Levi's shoulder, though it gets swatted away just as quickly. "It isn't, we just thought it'd be fun. We're sorry," Erwin says.
It's certainly frustrating that Hange acts this way, interfering with his personal life, but he knows they mean well (emphasis on "mean.")
Erwin does too, so as much as he hates this, he'll let this one slide. It's a Friday, and the week has been exhausting enough. Erwin and Hange look at one another while Levi reaches into his back pocket to take out his phone. He felt a buzz, so he probably got a text from someone. When he turns on his phone, however, he sees that the notification is a text from a number he doesn't have saved.
Unknown Number - 6:27 PM
is this levi ackerman?
this is your match from the paradis marriage pact
He frowns at the text but doesn't say anything. He'll deal with it later.
"Just don't do this again, so help me, God."
Hange's eyes bug out of their head. "You're not mad at us?"
Levi scoffs. "I'm mad, but I'm too tired of your shit to beat you into the ground right now."
"Let's go back home now, yeah?" Erwin suggests, his body facing the door.
After Levi wordlessly puts his laptop in his backpack, the three head back to their shared apartment. Erwin occasionally greets people that recognize him on the walk over, but other than that, they travel in complete silence to avoid pissing off Levi any further.
Once Levi's in his room, he shrugs off his backpack to put near his door and takes out his phone, walking over to the chair he has at his desk. He sits down, turns on his phone, and stares at the message he got.
In the first place, he has no idea what the fuck this Paradis Marriage Pact shit is.
Yeah, sure, Hange described it as a matchmaking program, but it's not like that's much to go off of. He switches over to his mail app to find the email sent from the site.
There still isn't much information—just the match's name, phone number, and a message at the bottom: Please reply to this email if your match is successful and you'd like to be interviewed! He rolls his eyes—the email looks formal enough, but there's no way anyone's going to actually reply to it. He also compares the number that texted him earlier and the number listed on the email.
They match, so he replies to the text.
Levi - 7:33 PM
Yes, this is Levi
Unknown Number - 7:39 PM
sorry if this is weird but i need a favor
Levi - 7:40 PM
Sorry, not interested in dating
Unknown Number - 7:40 PM
me neither
...Doesn't make much sense to text a match from something called a "marriage pact" if you're not interested, but alright. Levi isn't going to question it; he's doing the same thing replying to this person.
Unknown Number - 7:41 PM
could we meet up?
Levi - 7:42 PM
I said I'm not interested
You literally just agreed with me
Unknown Number - 7:42 PM
no its not like that!!
Levi - 7:43 PM
Ok, then what's the favor?
Unknown Number - 7:43 PM
my friend is the guy who made the paradis marriage pact program and he needs help getting data from a successful match
Levi - 7:45 PM
And you want me to help because the email asking for it was so pathetic that he needed to get help from someone he knows personally?
Unknown Number - 7:46 PM
exactly!
so are you up for it?
Levi - 7:46 PM
No
Unknown Number - 7:47 PM
we'd just have to answer some interview questions together
Levi - 7:47 PM
I said no already
Unknown Number - 7:48 PM
i already told my friend that i'd help him :(
please??
i can buy you a drink
Levi - 7:50 PM
Why not just make up the data?
Unknown Number - 7:50 PM
... they need a recorded audio file of the couple talking
and a picture
Levi - 7:51 PM
That's an awful lot for just a project
Unknown Number - 7:51 PM
if it means anything, he has dr pixis
Levi frowns.
He had Pixis for Intro to Python in his first year, and it's the only class he's gotten a B in since enrolling at Paradis University. Pixis is notorious for being a harsh grader, but there's only one other professor that offers lower-division technology course requirements for CS majors, so everyone has to take him at some point. It makes sense now that whoever made the Paradis Marriage Pact is scrambling for data. It's stupid that whoever made this decided to reach out for information over email, nevermind over school email, but Levi knows it's too late in the semester to try something else.
Unknown Number - 7:55 PM
ik its asking a lot
and i have no idea who you are
but if we matched then maybe it wont be so bad
Levi - 7:56 PM
I didn't take it
My roommates did it for me and they probably answered it differently than I would've
Unknown Number - 7:57 PM
even better!!
we already know we arent a match so theres no expectations
God, she isn't going to stop asking, is she? Levi can't judge their dedication to the cause, though; it's admirable that she's willing to reach out to a complete stranger just to help her friend.
Levi - 7:57 PM
If we aren't a real match, doesn't that make your friend's project a failure?
Unknown Number - 7:58 PM
technically, that isn't his fault
Levi - 8:00 PM
You're not giving up, are you?
Unknown Number - 8:01 PM
i will if you say no again
Great, she's a good friend, and she's respectful.
Levi himself can't believe that he's seriously about to go along with this.
For all he knows, this girl could be a fucking axe-murderer, but, at the same time, he knows how fucking miserable it is to have Pixis for any class ever. She can't be that bad if she hasn't prodded him for any actual information, and she sincerely seems to not be interested in getting to know him.
Just an interview, some pictures, and he'd never have to cross paths with her again?
Yeah, he can do that.
Levi - 8:03 PM
Okay, but you're still buying me a drink
Unknown Number - 8:04 PM
deal!! thank you so much!!
let me ask my friend when we can do the interview
♡
"What do you mean you can't come? You're literally supposed to interview us in," you pull your phone away from your ear to check the time, 1:55 PM, "5 minutes!"
"I'm so sorry! I forgot I had a midterm today, and I can't get to you guys and make it back in time!" Jean says.
You groan and change the hand your phone is in. "What the fuck, man, midterm season was over, like, a month ago."
"I know! But Shadis kept pushing it back because people kept asking for more time to study!"
"So what do you want me to do? He already didn't want to do this, and I don't want to inconvenience him even more by changing the date this late."
"I can text you the questions, and you can go through them together."
"What about the audio file?"
"Just record it on your phone, and I'll edit in my voice so it sounds like I'm actually there."
You roll your eyes. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"I don't really have a choice."
"Well, you're right about that. Let's just hope this Levi guy is okay with this."
"Okay with what, exactly?"
Looking towards the voice, you see a raven-haired guy around your age dressed in a neat black shirt and dark jeans. Before this, you texted each other the details of your outfits so you could find each other in the café Jean picked out for the three of you to meet, so you know that it's Levi. He seems to have a frown on his face, but you just hope that it's not directed towards you.
Despite that, though, he's.. really attractive.
You try not to dwell on that as you motion him to sit in the booth with you. He does so wordlessly and takes out his own phone to busy himself.
"I'll owe you forever, okay?"
You sigh, putting your elbow on the table. "Damn right you will. I get it, though. I'll try to make it work." You can hear him sigh in relief on the other end of the line.
"Thank you! I gotta go now, but send me the audio after! Don't forget the picture too!"
"It's no problem, Jean. Good luck on your midterm, you got this," you say, then bringing your phone away from your ear to end the call.
Levi clears his throat from across you to get your attention. "Is your friend on the way?" he asks.
You nervously laugh. "Yeah.. so about him, he can't make it."
"Is he who you were just on the phone with?"
You nod, looking away from him. "He called me and said he has a midterm today," you say.
He nods in what you want to interpret as understanding, but he's probably just confused. "Bit late for midterms, no?"
You nod, anxiously laughing again. "I told him the same thing, but he said his professor pushed it back."
"Pushing back a test that far sounds like a fucking terrible idea, but okay."
You hear a buzz come from your phone, so you pick it up to see a text from Jean. Opening it, you see that it's the questions Jean's supposed to be asking you and Levi. You put your phone back on the table and slide it over to Levi to look at.
"He sent me the questions, if you wanted to look at them."
"Just send them to me," he says, ignoring your device. You nod and take your phone back, quickly copying the text and forwarding it to Levi. "I assume we're still going to do this without him?"
You smile sheepishly at him, bringing your hands together in front of your face. "If it's okay with you. I understand if it isn't, but let me at least pay for you to get a drink before you leave. I've bothered you enough asking you to come here in the first place."
He looks up at you for a second before looking back at his phone to skim the questions.
"I don't care."
Tough crowd, huh.
Before you start, a waitress comes to your table asking what you and Levi would like to drink. You tell her you'll have a grapefruit green tea while Levi orders a cup of black tea.
"I'm gonna record the audio on my phone, and then we'll take turns answering, yeah? Jean said he'd edit in his own voice." He hums in understanding, and so you go to open your voice-recorder app and tap the "record" icon before placing your phone between the two of you. "I can answer first, since you have the questions."
He sighs.
"'What's your name?'"
You answer, and he does the same. Easy enough to start.
"'What's your major?'"
"I'm a public health major. You?"
"I'm in CS," he replies. "'How did you find out about the Paradis Marriage Pact?'"
"You forced me to take it," you say, voice wavering as you're unsure if you're supposed to pretend Jean is there or not. Levi looks up at you, his frown now replaced with a neutral expression.
"Are we going to pretend your friend is here?" He asks.
You groan and put your head down. "You're right, it's probably stupid."
He shakes his head. "No, it isn't. It'll help trick Pixis into thinking he's actually here."
You bring your head up and nod slowly, bobbing your head.
For someone who said he didn't care, he sure is nice. Well, as nice as you can be to a complete stranger.
The waitress comes back with your drinks, and you both thank her.
Levi glances back down at his phone. "'Did you know each other before the Paradis Marriage Pact?'"
"You didn't answer the last question."
Levi rolls his eyes. "I mentioned it to you before. My roommates took it for me, so I didn't even know what this thing was until one of them brought it up to me."
After reaching for your cup to take a sip, you speak up.
"Well, we gotta make something up. You could say they showed it to you, and you decided to take it," you reason. He sighs.
"Okay, then. My roommate showed it to me, and I thought it was worth taking," he says, taking a sip of his own drink. "This is good."
Having never been at this café before, you can't agree or disagree, so you just smile. You notice that he's holding his cup by the rim, which is a bit odd, but it feels fitting for him.
"And no, we didn't know each other before this. It's kind of late now, but it's nice to meet you. Thank you for agreeing to come."
"It's nice to meet you, too."
The two of you continue like this: answering questions, slowly making your way down the list. They're all pretty general—just asking about things like what careers you're aiming for and what hobbies you have. You find out that he's interested in tea tasting, and he finds out that you're interested in gardening. Quite a bit of time passes, and soon enough, it feels like you're just having a conversation with a friend and not recording an interview.
You notice that he hasn't taken a drink in a while, so you speak up to ask him about it.
"Are you out of tea?" You ask.
He nods, scrolling down to the next question. Looking around for the waitress, you call her over to your table.
"What can I help you with?" She asks.
"Could we get two more cups of black tea, please?" At the mention of the drink, Levi looks up at you and the waitress.
"Of course! Let me get that for you," and with that, she's headed off for the drink bar.
"You didn't have to get more, you know." Levi says. "Why'd you get two cups?"
You smile, bringing your cup back up to finish the last of your grapefruit tea. "If you like it, it's probably worth trying. You said you try teas a lot, so I trust that it's good." He rolls his eyes, but you can see the corner of his mouth twitch upwards into a sort of half smile. "Anyway, next question?"
"'Are you happy with your match?'"
"Well, since Jean's supposed to be interviewing a successful match, I'll go along with that. You've been good company too, so yes, I'm happy with my match."
"I feel the same, then." You're glad he goes along with your answer, so you smile over at him. "'Why do you think you were paired together?'" He reads.
"Could you answer this one first? I don't really know how we could lie about this one."
He hums, looking up at you again. "I don't know what kind of questions were on the Pact, but from our conversation so far, you seem like a good person."
You're taken off guard, so you avoid his gaze, looking down at your empty teacup. "You think so?" You can feel your ears start to get red, so you feign fixing your hair to try and cover them. You didn't expect any answer like that from him even with all the talking you've been doing, so you're flustered.
"You didn't know who I was, and you went this far to help your friend with his project. Even after I told you I'm not actually your match, you still wanted to get the data for him. I think most people in your situation would've let him figure it out on his own."
You laugh good-naturedly, putting your hands in your lap. You look up to see him still focused on you, and the blush on your face feels a little hotter.
You want to thank him and try to answer Jean's question, but before you can say anything, the waitress comes back with two new cups of black tea and takes away yours and Levi's empty cups. The two of you reach for the cups set in front of you, and you take a sip together.
"You're right, this is good," you say. He nods in agreement, and the two of you put your cups down.
"Alright, this is the last question. 'Both of you selected 'no' when asked if you believed in soulmates. Why do you believe that?'" Levi recites from Jean's questions. He pauses, a new frown forming on his face. "One of my roommates texted me to ask this a while ago. No wonder."
You laugh at that, covering your smile with your hand. "At least we don't have to come up with another lie."
He nods. "Yeah."
"Well, there's not really much to say. I think the idea that there's only one person destined to love you is pretty limiting, and then the chances of meeting them would be slim-to-none," you answer. You see Levi nod from the corner of your eye, so you continue. "Falling in love with them would be even harder. It's not really worth believing in soulmates, in my opinion."
"I feel the same way, more or less," he adds. "The idea is there, though."
"Yeah, it'd be nice if there was a way to know someone's perfect for you. Ever heard of the Paradis Marriage Pact? I've heard it's worked wonders," you joke.
He looks pretty unamused, though.
"Yeah, sure. It's so successful that the person who made it has to ask his friend to pretend they've found the love of their life," Levi says.
You laugh, nearly spitting out your tea. "Well, at least we agree that soulmates aren't real! Besides, anyone can fall in love if you spend enough time together."
"I suppose you're right."
Levi did say that the question about soulmates was the last one, so you get your phone from the middle of the table and tap the "stop recording" icon. The two of you don't initiate any further conversation, so you both sit in silence and finish your teas.
The quiet isn't awkward. It's... nice.
You flag the waitress over when you're finished, and after you pay for everything, she asks if you need anything else.
"Actually, could you take our picture for us?" You ask.
She nods, taking your phone from you to snap a quick picture. You smile, and you thank her as she hands the device back to you.
"You guys are so cute!" She coos, waving goodbye to you both. You and Levi both make eye contact, but neither of you say anything.
You check the time on your phone: 3:45 PM. You have a class at 4, so you get up from your seat to start heading over. You look down at Levi who's still sitting and wave goodbye to him.
"It really was nice meeting you, Levi. Really, thank you for agreeing to get interviewed, even if my friend couldn't make it. I hope it wasn't awkward for you."
"It wasn't."
You smile at him, tucking a piece of hair behind your still-red ear.
"Well, that's a relief," you say. You turn to leave the café, but before you can take any steps, you hear Levi clear his throat. You look at him, but he doesn't meet your gaze.
"Did you mean it when you said you were happy we matched, or did you only say that because of your friend?" He asks, looking down at his cup. You see a bit of red at the tops of his ears, so you giggle. "What's so funny?"
Even though he can't see it, you smile at him before answering, ignoring the latter question.
"I think I meant it."
You walk away before you can see his face, but you feel a buzz from your phone as soon as you're out the door. When you look at it, your smile gets even bigger.
Levi - 3:50 PM
I think I meant it too
♡
Jean yawns, stretching his arms above his head. He's finally back home for winter break, the semester having ended a week or so ago.
Despite that, though, Pixis hasn't released his grade yet, and he's getting worried.
Did Pixis somehow figure out that he messed with the audio file? Jean swears he did everything else perfectly, so it's gotta be that if he hasn't gotten his score back. As far as he knew, everyone else in the class got theirs back already. He's been sweating it all winter break.
For the hundredth time that night, Jean goes to refresh his school email. In addition to an email from the university's gradebook, however, there's an email from Dr. Pixis himself.
"Dear lord, please let this be good." He takes a deep breath before opening it. Realizing what it says, he screams out in joy. "Holy shit!"
"Jean-boy, what's the matter?" His mom asks, opening his door to see what all the noise is about. He excitedly motions her over to his desk, a big, bright smile on his face.
"Mom, look!"
Hello Jean,
I am very pleased with your project. What an inventive idea—a program to match up students. Easy A. Thank you for not turning in the same boring project as everyone else. This may be a bit out of the blue, but I would also like to extend you a position as one of my TAs for next year's fall semester. You have proven yourself to be highly proficient in the course material. Attached to this email is the paperwork to formally accept. I hope you consider it.
Also, good job finding a couple to interview. I seriously doubted that you could when you sent in your first round of data. Actually, I saw them the other day at the ice skating rink downtown holding hands. They look cute together, makes me believe in love again. Consider launching a similar program for professors, will you? I look forward to hearing from you.
Best,
Professor Dot Pixis.
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The Hunter and the Witch: Dean Winchester x fem! reader
Description: When Dean gets a call from a friend the boys and Y/N go to investigate a plane that crashed under mysterious circumstances.
Warnings: cannon violence, talk of plane crashes, demons, exorcism, reference to sexual themes (but nothing sexual happens at all like not even a little bit), comfort, aerophobia, one bed trope 🤨
Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld, @okayiamkassandra, @fablesrose
Word count: 7,792
Authors note: I am so so sorry this took forever to get out, and i’m not even that happy with the turn out at least for some parts of this chapter. I will be working harder to make it better, please let me know what you guys think: criticism is welcome
The Phantom Traveler
(Masterlist, Previous Chapter, Next Chapter)
The sound of the door opening along with movement beside me wakes me from my sleep. My eyes flicker open slowly only to be met with Dean prompt on one arm practically leaning over me with his hand underneath his pillow.
“Morning, Sunshine!” I hear Sam’s voice call out.
I rub my eyes, turning my head towards Sam’s voice who’s standing in the doorway with a tray of drinks and a baggy of something.
“Hi Sammy” I responded lightly, still adorned with sleep.
“What time is it?” Dean asks him. Which reminds me of the fact that we slept in the same bed the night before, there was only one room left and we were all too tired to go looking for another motel so Dean suggested I bunk with him. And it’s not like we hadn’t slept together growing up, whether on purpose or during a movie.
“Uh, it’s about five forty-five.” Sam answers, kicking his shoes off.
“In the morning?” Dean asks again.
“Yep” Sam answers simply.
“It’s too early” I grumble, sinking further into the hoodie I had worn to bed.
Dean huffs a laugh, “Where does the day go?” He sits up leaning on the headboard, “Did you get any sleep last night?”
“Yeah, I grabbed a couple of hours.” Sam responds.
“Liar. 'Cause I was up at three, and you were watching a George Foreman infomercial.” Dean confronts.
“Hey, what can I say? It's riveting TV.” Sam reasons.
“Lying again!” I add, still lying down.
Dean looks down at me before looking back at Sam, “When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?”
“I don't know, a little while, I guess. It's not a big deal.” Sam shrugs.
“Yeah, it is.” Dean answers and I nod my head in agreement, well the best I can nod lying down.
“Look, I appreciate your concern—“ Sam started getting cut off by Dean, “Oh, I'm not concerned about you. It's your job to keep my ass alive, so I need you sharp.” Dean lies, he is most definitely worried.
But Sam just shrugs. So Dean pushes further, “Seriously, are you still having nightmares about Jess?”
Sam crosses the room, sitting on the other bed, handing Dean two drinks. I sit up quickly taking my drink from Dean as Sam responds, “Yeah. But it's not just her. It's everything. I just forgot, you know? This job. Man, it gets to you.”
“You can't let it. You can't bring it home like that.” Dean tells him, taking a sip of his drink that is most definitely coffee.
“So, what? All this it...never keeps you up at night?” Sam asks, leaning forward.
Dean shakes his head.
“Y/N?” Sam asks.
“Yeah…It does. I mean you can try to not let it bother you but it’s not so simple, not healthy either” I take a deep breath, “Man, we need therapy”, looking down at my cup instead of confronting the boys directly. I take a careful sip from my drink, hot chocolate, making a mental note to thank Sammy for it.
“Exactly. So Dean, really you’re never afraid? Never?”
“No, not really.” Dean replies the same answer.
Sam gives him a look reaching under Dean's pillow, pulling out a large hunting knife holding it up as evidence.
I almost spit out my drink, “When did you put that there!”
Dean takes the knife back, looking between Sam and I as he spoke, “That's not fear. That is precaution. And also when you went to change in the bathroom”
“All right, whatever. I'm too tired to argue.” Sam answers, leaning back on his hand while the other holds his drink (also probably coffee).
“Amen.” I add, focusing on my drink now.
Suddenly Dean’s phone rings, he answers it almost immediately.
“Hello?
…
Oh, right, yeah. Up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania, the poltergeist thing. It's not back, is it?
…
What is it?”
The conversation ends quickly and Dean explains that some guy he helped a while back named Jerry Panowski needed our help.
We change and pack up our things, heading out to this Jerry guy.
“Thanks for making the trip so quick. I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Dean and your dad really helped me out.” Jerry, a short guy who’s balding, speaks
“Yeah, he told me. It was a poltergeist?” Sam asks him, causing a random guy to call back a response, “Poltergeist? Man, I loved that movie.”
Jerry snapped at the worker, “Hey, nobody's talking to you. Keep walking.” He sighs continuing, “Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart. Tell you something, if it wasn't for you and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive. Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?”
“Yeah, I was. I'm—taking some time off.” Sam stammered.
“Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time.” Jerry answered.
“He did?” Sam asks.
“Yeah, you bet he did. Oh, hey, you know I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?” Jerry asks.
“He's, um, wrapped up in a job right now.” Dean responds, coming up with a quick lie.
“Well, we're missing the old man, but we get Sam and, uh, Y/N right? More than an even trade, huh?”
Dean laughs and I nod my head in conformation on the name bit.
“Well anyways I got something I want you guys to hear.” He leads us into his office nearby.
“I listened to this. And, well, it sounded like it was up your alley.” Jerry explains putting a CD into a drive.
“Normally I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours.” He presses play
“Mayday! Mayday! Repeat! This is United Britania 2485—immediate instruction help! United Britanis 2485, I copy your message—May be experiencing some mechanical failure…” The recording ends with a loud whooshing sound.
“Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south. Now, they're saying mechanical failure. Cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board. Only seven got out alive. Pilot was one. His name is Chuck Lambert. He's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh...well, he's pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault.” Jerry explains further.
“You don't think it was?” Sam asks him.
“No, I don't.” He answers simply.
“Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, um, a list of survivors.” Sam informs him.
“And would it be possible for us to take a look at the wreckage” I add on asking.
“The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage...fellas, the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance.” Jerry tells us, and despite not being able to see the wreckage he’s extremely helpful. What a kind man.
“No problem.” Dean frowns.
Sam and I wait outside a Copy Jack for Dean, already having waited for maybe forty-five mins. Dean finally exits.
“You've been in there forever.” Sam complains and I nod in agreement.
“You can't rush perfection.” Dean smiles holding up three ID’s, fake ones at that.
Dean hands us our respected ID’s with a fake name, fake information but actual photos of us.
“Homeland Security? That's pretty illegal, even for us.” Sam comments, looking at his ID badge.
“Yeah, well, it's something new. You know? People haven't seen it a thousand times.” Dean reasons, rounding the car to get in.
“It’s not like you haven’t been FBI Agents” I remarked as I got into the car.
“I get it. We’re criminals.” Sam responded monotone.
“Yeah we are!” I celebrate.
Sam huffs a laugh, an almost disappointing laugh.
“All right, so, what do you got?” Dean asks, changing the subject.
“Well, there's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder.” Sam answers.
“Yeah?” Dean asks.
“Listen.” Sam plays the tape, which he had edited to pull out a scratchy voice, “No survivors!”
“"No survivors"? What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors.” Dean questions.
“Maybe there wasn’t meant to be any survivors and it could be going back to, you know, uh, take care of them” I suggest.
“Maybe.” Sam adds. The car went quiet as if the boys were going over the possibilities in their heads.
Dean breaks the silence, “Are you thinking a haunted flight?”
“There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers. Remember flight 401?” Sam informs.
“Right. The one that crashed, the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights.” Dean answers.
“Right. So maybe we got a similar deal.” Sam adds.
“All right, so, survivors, which one do you want to talk to first?” Dean asks.
“Third on the list: Max Jaffey.”
“Why him?”
“Well, for one, he's from around here. And two, if anyone saw anything weird, he did.” Sam lists out.
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, I spoke to his mother. And she told me where to find him.”
Max walks with a cane slightly in front of us, having joined him in the garden of the Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital.
“I don't understand. I already spoke with Homeland Security.” He tells us.
“Well, some new information came up. So we’d just like to ask you a couple of questions.” I answer softly.
“Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything...unusual?” Sam adds jumping right into the questions.
“Like what?” He asks.
“Strange lights, weird noises, maybe. Voices.” Dean lists out.
“No, nothing.” Max answers, though not very convincingly.
“Mr. Joffey—“ Dean began getting cut off,
“Jaffey.” Max corrects.
“Jaffey. You checked yourself in here, right?” Dean asks and Max nods.
“Can I ask why?” Dean pushes.
“I was a little stressed. I survived a plane crash.” Max answered simply.
“Uh huh. And that's what terrified you? That's what you were afraid of?” Dean presses further.
“I...I don't want to talk about this anymore.” Max stammers. But Dean keeps pressing, “See, I think maybe you did see something up there. We need to know what.”
“No. No, I was...delusional. Seeing things.” Max answers, eyes wide.
“It's okay. Then just tell us what you thought you saw, please.” Sam offers, going the much nicer way.
“There was...this—man. And, uh, he had these...eyes—these, uh...black eyes. And I saw him—or I thought I saw him...
He opened the emergency exit. But that's...that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something like two tons of pressure on that door.” Max explains, tripping over his words.
“This man, uh, did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly? It would look something like a mirage?” Sam asks.
“What are you, nuts?” Says the guy who believes he was delusional and needed to check himself into a psychiatric hospital.
“He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me.”
Our questions ended soon after we got the name of the passenger in front of Max.
The Impala pulls up in front of his house.
“Here we are. George Phelps, seat 20C.” Sam announces.
“Man, I don't care how strong you are. Even yoked up on PCP or something, no way you can open up an emergency door during a flight.” Dean announces as we get out of the car.
“Opening the door while the plane is at an altitude of 10,000 or more, is impossible. I mean that’s an added 24,000 pounds of pressure, to a door that’s already on average 34 pounds, as a result of air pressure.” I inform, reciting something I had read.
Both boys turn to me with a questioning look, “I like fun facts” I shrug.
“Well that would be possible if you weren’t human. So maybe this guy George was something else. Some kind of creature, maybe, in human form.” Sam suggested.
Dean deadpans, looking at Sam, “Does that look like a creature's lair to you?”
Sam looks at the house, an ordinary white paneled home,and then back at Dean shrugging.
Sam rings the doorbell, a woman with shoulder length brown hair invites us in.
“This is your late husband?” Sam asks Mrs. Phelps, picking up a frame photo of a brunette man.
“Yes, that was my George.” She answers sniffling.
“And you said he was a...dentist?” Dean confirms
“Mm-hm. He was headed to a convention in Denver. Do you know that he was petrified to fly? For him to go like that…” Mrs.Phelps admits.
“How long were you married for?” I ask.
“Thirteen years.” She smiles sadly.
“In all that time, did you ever notice anything...strange about him, anything out of the ordinary?” Sam adds.
“Well...uh, he had acid reflux, if that's what you mean.” She answers maybe a little too truthfully, and I have to stop myself from laughing.
We come down the front steps, having no helpful information.
“I mean it goes without saying. It just doesn't make any sense.” Sam announces.
“A middle-aged dentist with an ulcer is not exactly evil personified. You know what we need to do is get inside that NTSB warehouse, check out the wreckage.” Dean suggests.
“Okay. But if we're gonna go that route, we'd better look the part.” Sam adds with a smirk.
My face breaks out into a smile, “Cue the montage!”
My new heels click loudly on the pavement, catching the eyes of onlookers.
I had wandered off to find a clothing store for women that would have more professional clothing that I was looking for, while the boys were at some store called “MORT’S for style”.
I retrace my steps back to where I had left the brothers, seeing them standing outside the store fixing their suit jackets. Even though I only saw some of them from where I was walking from I had to say they cleaned up nice.
“What the hells taking Y/N so long?” I hear Dean complain his back towards me as he fidgets with the cuffs of his sleeves.
I approached closer only stopping about four feet behind Dean.
Sam’s eyes caught mine as he looked behind his brother’s shoulder, his eyes widening.
“Sorry, Dean.” I say looking up through my eyelashes, even though his back was towards me still.
He turned towards me, his lips ready to form words that never left his mouth, whatever he was going to say died on his tongue the second he had seen me.
His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before turning to a more lidded stance, accompanied by a devilish smirk as his eyes ran up and down my figure. I hadn’t thought there was anything special about wearing a white button up and a black pencil skirt that ended near my mid thigh, but the way he’s looking has me questioning my knowledge on such things.
I feel my cheeks turn hot and I suddenly feel exposed by the way he’s looking at me. I tug on the hem of my skirt, pulling it down slightly, seemingly pulling Dean out of whatever odd trance he had been in.
He clears his throat and yet his voice still comes out a little tight, “We should go”.
I hum in agreement, only now realizing that Sam was already ahead of us and getting into the car.
We enter the warehouse, my heels still noticeably clicking, showing our “homeland security badges” to the security guard who nods and lets us in.
The warehouse is huge and yet still cluttered with plane wreckage.
Dean pulls out an odd device, plaguing the attached earbuds in his ears.
“What is that?” Sam asks the question we’re both thinking.
“It's an EMF meter. Reads electromagnetic frequencies.” Dean informs, holding up a rackity device.
“Yeah, I know what an EMF meter is, but why does that one look like a busted-up walkman?” Sam questions further, eyebrows scrunched.
“'Cause that's what I made it out of. It's homemade.” Dean grins, shaking it a little.
“Okay D.I.Y King.” I laugh, nudging his arm.
“I’m just going to accept that” Dean nods, going off to move his creation around for EMF readings.
“Check out the emergency door handle.” Dean calls out revealing a yellow dust like thing on the handle.
“What is this stuff?” Dean asks, scratching at the odd yellow substance.
“Why would you touch it?” I ask him, he looks at me and shrugs.
“Well there’s one way to find out what it is.” Sam scrapes some of the yellow dust off with a pen putting both into a little clear baggy.
He puts the bag in his pocket when suddenly the door we entered slams open, several security guards with guns enter. We all share a panic look before swiftly sneaking out of the room.
With our backs pressed to the walls tightly we found a way outside. We peer around a corner seeing no one in sight, giving us the go to start walking towards the gated exit. Then suddenly a loud alarm blared, turning our “causal” walking into a run.
My heels hit the ground hard with every stride I took, hoping they wouldn’t break. But with each careful movement I knew my heels were slowing me down. I stopped a brief moment kicking them up before carrying them in one hand as I continued after the men in front of me.
Reaching the gate Dean took his suit jacket off, his muscles flexing under the white button shirt he wore. He threw his jacket over the barbed wire at the top of the fence, Sam already climbing the gate.
Dean makes eye contact with me, and without words he gets down on one knee offering me his cupped hands to lift me up the gate. I accepted it and with one hand carrying my heels I hurried up the fence, swinging my leg over the jacket covered bar wire, and despite the shorts I wore underneath the skirt I still hoped I wasn’t flashing him.
I feel Dean following closely behind me as I land, stumbling slightly, on the hard concrete my feet aching from the drop without shoes.
“Well, these monkey suits do come in handy.” Dean says, having grabbed the jacket on his way over the fence. He takes a half a look back and takes off running, Sam follows closely behind being able to catch up with his long legs as I hurry after the boys.
Jerry looks at the yellow stuff through a microscope, hunched over. We watch the screen that's projecting what the microscope sees.
“Huh. This stuff is covered in sulfur.” Jerry announces.
“You're sure?” Sam asks.
“Take a look for yourself.” Jerry offers but before anyone could move there’s sounds of banging coming from outside the office as well as a voice cursing out, “You effin' piece of crap…”
“If you fellows will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire.” Jerry huffs, teeth clenched.
As Jerry leaves Dean wanders over to the microscope looking into it.
“Hmm. You know, there's not too many things that leave behind a sulfuric residue.” Dean mumbles.
“Demonic possession?” Sam asks.
“Oh, that would definitely explain how a regular dude would have the strength to open up an emergency hatch.” I answer.
“This goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup. I mean it's one thing to possess a person, but to use them to take down an entire airplane?” Dean stated.
“You ever heard of something like this before?” Sam asks him.
“Never.” He replies
“That’s comforting” I remark.
We were in full research mode, the motel room walls taped with article clippings and images. Papers strewn access the beds and tables. Sam’s on his bed researching on his computer, while Deans reading a book on demon mythology sitting on his bed.
I’m sitting at the small table in the room with a notepad and two open books in front of me, with titles I'm not entirely sure of.
“So, every religion in every world culture has the concept of demons and demonic possession, right? I mean Christian, Native American, Hindu, you name it.” Sam speaks out.
“Yeah, but none of them describe anything like this.” Dean adds.
“Well, that's not exactly true. You see, according to Japanese beliefs, certain demons are behind certain disasters, both natural and man-made. One causes earthquakes, another causes disease.” Sam informs
Dean gets up,“And this one causes plane crashes?
All right, so, what? We have a demon that's evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count?”
“I guess there isn’t really a way of knowing just how many planes it’s brought down before this one.” I answered
Dean snorts, turning away.
“Hey” I whine thinking he’s poking fun at what I said, my eyebrows scrunching.
“I don't know, man. This isn't our normal gig. I mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death and destruction for its own sake. This is big. And I wish Dad was here.” Dean announces, my face relaxing at the clarification.
“Yeah. Me too.” Sam hums, looking back down at his computer just as Dean’s phone rings.
He answers,
“Hello?
…
Oh, hey, Jerry.
…
Wha—Jerry, I'm sorry. What happened?
….
Where'd this happen?
….
I'll try to ignore the irony in that.”
Me and Sam throw each other a questioning look.
Dean’s conversation continues,
“Nothing. Jerry, hang in there, all right? We'll catch up with you soon.”
As he hangs up Sam asks him, “Another crash?”
“Yeah. Let's go.” Dean confirms.
“Where too?” I ask, closing the books and my laptop.
“Nazareth.” He answers.
Jerry is again looking through his microscope.
“Sulfur?” I ask, wanting to confirm. Jerry nods, simply.
“Well, that's great. All right, that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him.” Dean announces.
“With all due respect to Chuck, if that's the case, that would be the good news.” Sam adds, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“What's the bad news?” Dean asks him, turning in his direction.
“Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into flight. And get this, so did flight 2485.” Sam answers, my eyes widening at the realization.
“Forty minutes? What does that mean?” Jerry questions, looking between the three of us.
“The number typically symbolizes a period of trial or testing, like in Noah’s Ark it rained for forty days and forty nights.” I recall, speaking with my hands.
“Along with death” Dean joins in.
“I went back, and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in.” Sam informs.
“Any survivors?” Dean asks him.
“No. Or not until now, at least, not until flight 2485, for some reason. On the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the EVP Said?” Sam adds.
“ ‘No survivors’… Y/N you were right, it’s going after all the survivors. It's trying to finish the job.” Dean recalls.
Darkness surrounds the car, our only source of light being the headlights as we drive through the night.
Sam’s on the phone contacting the survivors.
“Really? Well, thank you for taking our survey, And if you do plan to fly, please don't forget your friends at United Britannia Airlines. Thanks.” Sam says, sounding peachy as he lies to the woman on the phone.
He hangs up, “All right. That takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway. They're not flying anytime soon.”
“So our only wildcard is the flight attendant Amanda Walker.” Dean acknowledges, not taking his eyes off the road.
“Right. Her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight pm. It's her first night back on the job.” Sam adds.
“You know I can’t decide if that’s really brave or stupid of her.” I say
“Either way, that’s just our luck” Dean grumbles.
“Dean, this is a five-hour drive, man, even with you behind the wheel.” Sam replies.
“Call Amanda's cellphone again, see if we can't head her off at the pass.” Dean offers.
“I already left her three voice messages. She must have turned her cellphone off.
God, we're never gonna make it.” Sam sighs.
“We'll make it.” Dean answers, pressing down on the gas pedal.
We rush through the airport, stopping only to look up at the Departure board.
“There! They’re boarding in thirty minutes.” I point at the screen above us, trying to catch my breath.
“Okay. We still have some cards to play. We need to find a phone.” Dean adds, turning in a circle until he spots a courtesy phone.
He picks up the phone while Sam and I wait on standby, “Hi. Gate thirteen.
I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant on flight, um…” He trails off.
Sam quickly pulls out a marker writing numbers on his hand before holding it up for Dean to read, “flight 4-2-4.”
Dean taps his finger on the phone as he waits,
“Come on.
…….
Miss Walker. Hi, this is Dr. James Hetfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here.
….
Nothing serious, just a minor car accident, but she was injured, so—“
Dean pauses and I know something got messed up, “You what?
…..
Uh, well...there must be some mistake.”
Sam looks at me with confused eyes and I shrug not knowing either, he gets closer to Dean trying to listen in as best as he can almost right on top of him.
Dean laughs, uncomfortably, “Guilty as charged.
….
He's really sorry.
….
Yes, but...he really needs to see you tonight, so—
……
Don't be like that. Come on. The guy's a mess. Really. It's pathetic.
….
Oh, yeah.”
I have never been more confused about a conversation before.
Dean suddenly calls out, “No, no. Wait, Amanda. Amanda! Damn it! So close.” He puts the phone back on the hook with a defeated sigh.
“All right, it's time for plan B. We're getting on that plane.” Sam says quickly.
“Whoa, whoa, now just hold on a second.” Dean holds out his hand in defense, eyes wide.
“Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board, and if we're right, that plane is gonna crash.” Sam reasons.
“I know.” Dean mumbles.
“Okay. So we're getting on the plane, we need to find that demon and exorcise it. I'll get the tickets. You guys get whatever you can out of the trunk. Whatever that will make it through the security. Meet me back here in five minutes.” Sam explains and I nod along with him.
But Dean remains quiet looking between us anxious. I place my hand on his upper arm, “Are you okay, Dean?”
“No, not really.” He answers truthfully, which I wasn’t quite expecting.
“Oh…what’s wrong?” I ask, concerned.
“Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh…” He starts getting cut off by his brother, “Flying?”
“It's never really been an issue until now.” Dean explains his body tense.
“You're joking, right?” Sam smiles, and I hit his arm lightly.
“Do I look like I'm joking? Why do you think I drive everywhere, Sam?” Dean whisper-shouts.
“How come you never told either of us?” I ask him, bringing my arm back to my side.
“Well I don’t exactly make it a point to tell people, it’s embarrassing.” He explains, becoming quieter as he finishes.
“Hey we all have our fears” I say, giving his upper arm a little pat, trying to comfort him though I’m not sure if it was helping.
“Ok, uh, Y/N and I will go then.” Sam comes up with.
“What?” Dean asks, looking between us as if we had grown another head each.
“Me and Y/N can do it on our own.” Sam states.
“Yeah! It’s no biggie! And it will mean no plane time for you.” I add on.
“What are you guys, nuts? You said it yourself, the plane's gonna crash.” Dean exclaimed.
“Dean, we can do it all three of us, or me and Y/N can do this one together. I'm not seeing a third option, here.” Sam proposed.
“Come on! Really? Man…” Dean complained.
The intercom rings out, “Flight attendants, please cross-check doors before departure.”
I sat snuggly between Sam and Dean, the later being in the aisle seat anxiously reading the safety card.
“Just try to relax.” Sam tells him.
“Just try to shut up.” Dean snaps back. I roll my eyes at their banter with a huffed laugh.
The plane takes off, Dean jumping at every little rumble the vehicle makes. He clutches his armrests tightly, the knuckles of his hands turning white from the grip, I place my hand on top of his. The hand I was touching quickly released its death grip on the armrest, now having a firm grip on my hand instead. His body was visibly tense as he leaned back, strigidly, humming a song to himself.
Sam leans forward to see Dean, “You're humming Metallica?”
“Calms me down.” Dean answers through clenched teeth.
“Look, man, I get you're nervous, all right?” Sam sympathized, “But you got to stay focused.”
“Okay.” Dean replies simply.
“I mean, we got thirty-two minutes and counting to track this thing down, or whoever it's possessing, anyway, and perform a full-on exorcism.” Sam explains.
“Yeah, on a crowded plane. That's gonna be easy.” Dean exclaims.
“Just take it one step at a time, all right?” Sam reassures, “Now, who is it possessing?”
Realizing what Sam’s trying to do I keep quiet and let him work.
“It's usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness, you know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress.” Dean answers.
“Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash. If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up.” Sam adds.
“Mm-hm.” Dean hums, turning to a brunette flight attendant who passed by, “Excuse me. Are you Amanda?”
“No, I'm not”,she answered, looking at him just a little bit strangely.
“Oh, my mistake.”
“Mm-hm.”
Dean stretches his neck to the back of the plane, still trying to look for Amanda, “All right, well, that's got to be Amanda back there, so I'll go talk to her, and, uh, I'll get a read on her mental state.
“What if she's already possessed?” Sam asks him.
“There's ways to test that.” He answers, going into his bag and diving out a flask looking bottle with the Virgin Mary on it. “I brought holy water.”
“No” Sam snatches the bottle tucking it inside his hoodie, almost hitting me in the face as he took it. “I think we can go more subtle. If she's possessed, she'll flinch at the name of God.”
“Oh. Nice.” Dean turns to go, letting go of my hand in the process.
“Hey.” Sam calls out, stopping his brother in his tracks.
“What?” Dean asks
“Say it in Latin.” Sam reminds.
“I know.” Dean leaves again, only making it a few steps before Sam calls out again, “Okay. Hey!”
“What?!” Dean almost shouts, annoyed.
“Uh, in Latin, it's ‘Christo’” Sam answers.
“Dude, I know! I'm not an idiot!” Dean snaps back, this time being able to walk away without restriction.
I turn my head to Sam, “I feel like I should be going with him.”
“Yeah…probably” He answers.
With a nod I unbuckle myself getting up to follow after Dean.
“Dean!” I call out touching his arm as I catch up to him.
“What are you doing here?” He asks me.
“I’m here for moral support!” I say smiling as we enter the back portion of the plane seeing a blond woman fussing with a cart of drinks and napkins.
“Hi.” Dean greets her awkwardly.
“Hi. Can I help you with something?” She asks us, her eyes suddenly widening, “Oh, wait, are you guys trying to join the Mile High Club?” She adds looking uncomfortable now.
“What’s tha-“ I try to ask, getting cut off by a frantic Dean.
“No! no, no, no. I, uh, I'm just a bit of an uneasy flier. It makes me feel better to walk around a little bit, and she’s here for moral support.” He stammers out, eyes wide.
“Oh, I'm so sorry for the confusion. But flight anxiety happens to the best of us.” She offers, meanwhile I'm still confused on what this club is.
“Of course, you being a stewardess, I guess flying comes easy to you.” Dean replies, getting back on track.
She laughs, “You'd be surprised.”
“Really? You’re a nervous flier?” I ask her, even though I know anyone would be after experiencing what she had.
“Yeah, maybe, little bit.” She answers.
“How is it that, being a stewardess, you're scared to fly?” Dean chimes in, scratching his chin.
“Kind of a long story.” She responds.
“Right. I'm sorry for asking.” Dean apologized.
I have to say this is the most awkward conversation I’ve ever witnessed Dean be in, especially when it came to women as much as I hate to say it.
“It's okay.” She says.
“You ever consider other employment?” Dean asks her, and I'm starting to wonder if she thinks this random guy talking to her is strange.
“No. Look, everybody's scared of something. I just, uh...I'm not gonna let it hold me back.” She answered confidently, shaking her head.
“Huh.” Dean hums.
“So…” She trails off, probably wanting this awkward encounter to stop.
“Christo.” Dean mumbles quietly under his breath.
“I'm sorry. Did you say something?” Amanda asks him, looking between us.
Dean hesitates, “Christo?”
“I—I didn't, I didn't…” She stutters, clearly lost. If she hadn’t found him strange before she definitely did now.
“Yeah, nothing. Never mind.” Dean answers, turning around swiftly, grabbing my hand in the process as he leads us back to our seats.
“All right, well, she's got to be the most well-adjusted person on the planet.” Dean informs, sitting back down.
“That was the most awkward conversation I have ever been a part of. I mean seriously what is this ‘Mile High Club’ and why would we be joining it?” I ask no one in particular.
Both boys are quiet, oddly quiet so I turn my head first towards Sam seeing his eyes wide as he holds back a laugh between tightly closed lips. I give him a weird, questioning look before turning towards Dean who also has widened eyes as he makes a throat cut gesture towards his younger brother. He spots me looking at him strangely and immediately drops the motion, smiling at me instead.
“Ok then, weirdos.” I scuffed, “Back on the topic of the hunt there’s definitely no demon in her, Dean did the whole ‘Christo’ thing. And there's no demon getting into her”
Sam clears his throat as if he was getting rid of whatever came over him, “So, if it's on the plane, it can be anyone. Anywhere.”
“Exactly, so not very helpful” I add.
The plane suddenly shakes again, “Come on! That can't be normal!” Dean shouts his grip back on the arm rests.
“Hey, hey, it's just a little turbulence.” Sam reassured, and I nodded along with him.
“Sam, this plane is going to crash, okay? So quit treating me like I'm friggin' four.” Dean exclaims.
“You need to calm down.” Sam tells him.
“Well, I'm sorry I can't.” Dean snaps back.
“Yes, you can.” Sam reassures him.
“Yeah, you can take deep breaths, we'll do it with you if that helps” I add.
“Guys, stow the touchy-feely, self-help yoga crap, it's not helping.” Dean grumbles
“Sorry” I whisper.
“Listen, if you're panicked, you're wide open to demonic possession, so you need to calm yourself down. Right now.” Sam orders, and a little surprisingly, Dean follows, taking a long slow breath in.
“Good. Now, I found an exorcism in here that I think is gonna work. The Rituale Romanum.” Sam notifies us, pulling out his Dads journal. “It's two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful.”
“More powerful?” Dean asks him.
“Yeah.”
“How?”
“Well, it doesn't need to possess someone anymore. It can just wreak havoc on its own.” Sam explains.
“And why would that be a good thing?” I ask, chiming in.
“Well, because the second part sends the bastard back to hell once and for all.” Sam finishes.
“First things first, we got to find it.” Dean gets up from his seat walking slowly up the aisle with his DIY EMF meter. Sam and I get up following him, I allow Sam to get in front of me. He claps a hand on Dean's shoulder, making him jump, “Ah! Don't do that.”
“Anything?” Sam asks him.
“No, nothing. How much time we got?”
“Fifteen minutes” I chime in, calling out from behind the two taller men.
“Maybe we missed somebody.” Sam adds.
“Maybe the thing's just not on the plane.” Dean suggests.
Sam gives him a pointed look, “You believe that?”
“Well, I will if you will.” Dean comments, looking down at the EMF as the meter suddenly spikes.
The copilot exits the bathroom, heading towards the cockpit.
“What? What is it?” Sam asks.
“Christo.”
The Copilot turns slowly, facing us. His eyes turning black as he peers behind his shoulder, he turns back around going into the cockpit.
We head to the back of the plane, back to Amanda.
“She's not gonna believe this.” Sam warns.
“Twelve minutes, dude.” Dean points out.
“Oh, hi. Flight's not too bumpy for you, I hope.” Amanda greets sweetly despite how odd her last conversation with us was.
“Actually, that's kind of what we need to talk to you about.” Dean begins, as Sam closes the curtain.
“Um, okay. What can I do for you?” She answers looking at us weirdly again.
“All right, this is gonna sound nuts, but we just don't have time for the whole "the truth is out there" speech right now.” Dean explains
“All right, look, we know you were on flight 2485.” Sam adds.
Amanda's smile disappears, “Who are you guys?”
But she does not get the answer she’s looking for as Sam explains, “Now, we've spoken to some of the other survivors. We know something brought down that plane and it wasn't a mechanical failure.”
“We really need your help because we need to stop it from happening again. Right now.” I plead.
“I'm sorry, I—I'm very busy. I have to go back—“ She stammers, trying to brush past Dean who stops her.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a second. I'm not gonna hurt you, okay? But listen to me, uh...The pilot in 2485, Chuck Lambert. He's dead.”
“Wait. What? What, Chuck is dead?” She exclaims, eyes wide.
“He died in a plane crash. Now, that's two plane crashes in two months. That doesn't strike you as strange?” Dean asks.
“I—“ Amanda starts getting cut off by Sam, “Look, there was something wrong with 2485. Now maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn't. But there's something wrong with this flight, too.”
“Amanda, you have to believe us.” Dean urged
“On...on 2485, there was this man. He...had these eyes.” Amanda tries to explain.
“Yes. That's exactly what we're talking about.” Sam responds.
“I don't understand, what are you asking me to do?” She looks between us.
“Okay. The copilot, we need you to bring him back here.” Dean explains.
“Why? What does he have to do with anything?” She asks him.
“Don't have time to explain. We just need to talk to him. Okay?” Dean pushes.
“How am I supposed to go in the cockpit and get the copilot—“ She tries to ask getting cut off yet again by Sam, “Do whatever it takes. Tell him there's something broken back here, whatever will get him out of that cockpit.”
“Do you know that I could lose my job if you—“ She tries again this time getting cut off by me, “Please, Amanda your job isn’t going to exist in a couple minutes if you don’t bring him back here.”
I feel bad for having to scare her like this but we don’t have a choice here.
She hesitates and I can see her considering her options in her head, “Okay.”
She leaves us, heading to the cockpit as we get in position. Sam pulls out the holy water and Dean pulls out his Dads journal handing it to Sam who opens it.
“Yeah, what's the problem?” A male voice rings out, the Co-Pilot walking through the curtain.
Dean launches forward, punching him in the face. The man stumbles back, Dean uses that leverage to grab the guy and slam him to the ground. Pinning him down as he puts duct tape over his mouth.
“Wait. What are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him.” Amanda exclaims.
“We are gonna talk to him.” Dean answers, Sam splashing the holy water on the man’s skin, making it sizzle and bubble at the contact.
“Oh, my god. What's wrong with him?” She stammered, backing up.
“Look. We need you calm. We need you outside the curtain.” Sam commands.
“Well, I don't underst—I don't know—“ Amanda whispered, fearfully.
“Sam start reading” I order taking over the role of getting Amanda out, “You can’t let anyone in, Amanda please. Can you do that?” I ask her, leading her closer to the curtain.
“Okay. Okay.” She finally agrees, leaving. Meanwhile Sam began his reading kneeling down near the Demon, “Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino—“
The demon manages to break free, swinging his arm out at Sam causing the holy water to go flying, in that one moment of distraction the demon manages to shove Dean backwards and hit Sam back into the wall.
I launch into movement, pinning his arms to the side of his head. I'm not physically stronger than Dean but I’m not exactly going to wait around either.
Sam leans up, picking up where he left off. Dean kneels by my side holding down the arm of the demon who lashes beneath me. He breaks free again shoving me off, the side of my head hitting into the wall of the plane hard, and backhanding Dean in the face making him stumble back.
He rips the tape off his mouth, grabbing Sam by the collar, “I know what happened to your girlfriend! She must have died screaming! Even now, she's burning!”
Dean recovers much quicker than I, punching the demon and pinning him down once more.
“Sam!” Dean yells.
Sam begins reading again, putting the book down to help Dean pin down the Demon. I pick myself up, ignoring the spinning of my head to hold down the guy's other arm.
The demon lashes again, when finally black smoke leaves the Copilots mouth and disappears.
“Where'd it go?” Sam asks, looking up.
“It's in the plane. Hurry up. We got to finish it.”
We all stand up, determined to finish this when suddenly the plane dips and heaves violently. The movement successfully threw me to the ground, every time I tried to get up or move the heaving threw me down again like a baby who’s just learning how to walk. Meanwhile Deans splayed against the exit door screaming.
Sam somehow manages to keep moving despite the violent movement, army crackling into the aisle looking for the book.
A sudden bright electrical charge runs through the entire plane, which ends the hectic movement.
I hear chatter and sighs of relief, even though I'm all the way in the back of the plane. I stumble as I stand, walking over to Dean who still remains splayed against the door despite the plane flying as normal. I place a hand on his arm, as to say without words he’s okay, he looks down at me, his eyes wide and full with fear.
He carefully removes himself from the wall to enclose me in a tight hug, his head coming down to rest on my shoulder. I wrap one arm around his back, the other going to hold his head to me, my fingers in his hair, his breath heavy as I feel it fan on my neck.
I don’t mind the fact that I had to stand on my tippy toes for his head to be on my shoulder more comfortably, not when I got to hold him so close and give him a moment of peace.
————————————————————————
Back at the airport all sorts of departments surrounded everyone, FBI, FAA, Paramedics, etc.
We headed for the exit, Sam walking just a bit ahead of us, his body and every movement was tense. Dean looks at me, asking without words if he should say something I nod in confirmation.
“You okay?” he asks, Sam stops and turns.
“It knew about Jessica.” Sam seethes.
“Sam, these things, they, they read minds. They lie. All right? That's all it was.” Dean explains and I nod along with him.
“Yeah.” Sam breathes out.
“Come on.” Dean slaps a hand on Sam’s back, leading us out of there.
————————————————————————
“Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do. A lot of people could have been killed.” Jerry shakes each of our hands, “Your dad's gonna be real proud.”
“We'll see you around, Jerry.” Sam said.
We begin to head off when Dean stops short, “You know, Jerry.”
“Yeah.” He answers.
“I meant to ask you, how did you get my cellphone number, anyway? I've only had it for like six months.” Dean told him.
“Your dad gave it to me.” Jerry responded.
“What?” Sam and I say almost at the same time.
“When did you talk to him?” Dean asks, looking at Sam and then back to Jerry.
“I mean, I didn't exactly talk to him, but I called his number. His voice message said to give you a call.” Jerry explained, “Thanks again, guys” and he left.
“This doesn't make any sense, man. I've called Dad's number like fifty times. It's been out of service.” Sam exclaims.
Dean pulls out his phone in response, dialing a number and putting it on speaker phone for us to hear too.
“This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. He can help.”
We all look at each other, Sam huffs storming off to the car slamming the door behind him. I didn’t know what to say, and I don’t think Dean did either. With no other words we followed getting into the car and with a sigh Dean drove off.
#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#fanfiction#sam winchester#supernatural#john winchester#slow burn#rewrite#romance#friends to lovers#airplane#phantom#witchcraft#witch reader#winchester x reader#the hunter and the witch
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So there's this tweet on twitter that blew up stating ao3 isn't a social media, referencing people who put proship dni in tags - which the whole dni in tags thing is just fucking stupid. As on cue, the critical/anti ao3 crowd show up with their "your concern shouldn't be with dni in tags, but the cp that is rampant on the site!!" type tweets. We all know when we see someone cry "ao3 host cp", they're talking about cartoon/anime characters; but recently they more lean on underage rpf cus it's about real children they're talking about.
I have seen a good chuck of proshippers on twitter are heavily anti rpf, especially when it's underage. Both fantis and proshippers are hard anti underage rpf and believe it's CSAM. This is going to be a very unpopular opinion, I don't think underage rpf count as CSAM and don't think it's another form of CSAM. The reason why I think so, is that there isn't much info (from my knowledge) about the legal stand on it and lack of people who write it getting into legal trouble with it. I remember on fiction-is-not-reality previous terminate blogs they talked about underage rpf, something, something, they said the law can't charge or jail a person for explicit writing about a minor cus it's just text of words. FINR mention how the police can't use writing as evidence of CSAM like what they do with photos and videos, basically you can't arrest people over thoughts, only by actions.
The whole legal thing with underage rpf is really messing water trying to deal, think, understand it. But the other can of worms people argue about is drawn porn of live action characters played by underage actors is CSAM. Both fantis and especially some proshippers believe this. Just the other day on twitter, some proship users called out a proship artist for it and stated it isn't proship. From what people bring up, by US law, if the art isn't indistinguishable from an actual minor, it counts as illegal material. I don't live in america, so I don't fully understand the legal stand with drawn porn of live action characters played by underage actors.
The only legal thing that happen I heard from this subject is what happen with shadman with it. He drew porn of a movie character played by an underage actress at the time. He got connected by the girl's agent to take down those artworks on his website due to the closeness of the actress resemblance. When that happen, shadman didn't get charge or jail for it.
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after hours (part 2)
please find the other parts via my masterlist or the #sh0ek0 tag, I'm having some trouble with my posts not showing up in the tags and I think the links are messing this up
genre: angst, smut, dark content, kinda all over the place
content warning: 18+ !MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT! mentions of alcohol and drug use, name calling, toxic relationship, abusive relationship, violence, emotional abuse, choking, rough!megumi, slapping, threatening with a gun, Russian roulette, manic kinda episode, I should honestly stop romanticizing this kinda behavior, still: probably more but I am new to this
pairing: Megumi x Reader
word count: about 6.5k
summary: After Megumi beat up Choso at Yuji's and his houseparty, you're left drunk, high and confused. You start looking for him and remember an incident from your past before you sneak out of the apartment to meet up with your abusive ex, trying to rekindle your toxic relationship.
I'm so sorry this second part took me so long. Again: I don't want to talk myself down and I love writing, it's so much fun but I am very critical of myself and I really think this is trash compared to all the other amazing writing on here. So, THANK YOU SO MUCH for bearing with me and hyping me up. Every single like I got on 'heartbeat' really made my day <3 (I am terrified of posting so brb logging off for a few days help)
recommended songs: Formula - Labrinth / The Hills - The Weeknd / After Hours - The Weeknd / The Zone - The Weeknd / Streets - Doja Cat / Wicked Games - The Weeknd
You stumble through the open door onto the roof terrace. There are people staring at you and some of them seem to recognize you - you knew people were talking and you were old enough to just not care about that kinda shit anymore. They haven't been through what you've been through and if they decided to judge you? Well that was on them.
Right now you needed to find him. Megumi reacted the way he did because he loved you. You knew that. You pass by a table and a few lounge chairs and recognize the people sitting there from your college lectures. A girl, you remember her name to be Yue, waves you over.
"Y/N! Hi, are you alright?" she asks and you can hear a tiny bit of concern in her voice as you stumble and bump into one of the chairs.
"Hi, uh, yeah 'm fine." you answer and shoot her a smile, fumbling with the sleeves of your dress before you drop into the chair you just bumped into. Your head was spinning while you were desperately trying to process what had just happened inside but it was too much, it was too loud, too many people, too much booze. Everyone around you seemed to have the time of their lives while you were stuck inside your mind.
You reach for the half-empty bottle of vodka that was on the table in front of you and pour yourself a glass. It would definitely not help you to get any clearer in the head, but it would calm your nerves. Or at least you could just escape this mess for a few more minutes.
You put the glass to your lips and down its contents before filling it right back up. You can feel the stares of the guys sitting next to you. You never bothered to speak to anyone in your lectures and you didn't even know their names but apparently they seemed to enjoy seeing you in this state.
Under normal circumstances you wouldn't give them a single glance and you would’ve snapped at them for staring at you like this but now, as drunk as you were, you didn't even notice how far your dress had ridden up, or the spilled liquor on your cleavage. The wet fabric clung to your boobs, exposing you without really exposing you.
"Hey, slow down." Yue laughed as you down another shot, taking the bottle out of your hand. You look at her before leaning back in your chair, closing your eyes for a brief moment.
"Listen I actually don't want to bother you any longer," you frown, unsure what to say next "just 'wanna know if you saw Gojo or Megumi I- I am looking for him." you say, unsure if Yue could understand you over the music.
Yue looks at you. You know she understood you because you can see pity in her eyes and you immediately regret asking her in the first place. You told yourself that you didn’t care but you still hated that everyone around you had their opinion about you and your relationship. No one dared to say it out loud, but everyone thought the same. Even your friends.
"Well, I don't know where Gojo is but I saw Megumi passing by just when I came out here," She moves closer to you to pull your dress down, glaring at the two guys that were staring at you.
"I think he left." She looks at her hands, obviously searching for the right words to say to you.
Yue leans over to you. You weren't exactly close but apparently most people on campus knew about the ups and downs in your relationship. People really liked to talk.
"Y/N I guess your friends are really worried about you," she says gently, trying not to cross your boundaries. "You should really stop looking for him - I mean everyone saw the bruising on your neck-"
Well, so much for not crossing boundaries.
"Megumi would never hurt me." you protest, cutting her off.
"-people say he threatened you with a gun after an argument escalated." Yue carefully put her hand on your leg and you flinched.
"That's bullshit." you laugh, getting flustered. How could this even have spread around? You told nobody except Maki.
"That’s not what happened." you whisper.
"You don't threaten someone you love with a gun." Yue said in a sharp voice. You look at her, completely thrown off guard.
"Yeah and I guess you don't stick your nose in other peoples fucking business." you hiss and lean on your hands to lift yourself up out of the chair, a little bit wobbly on your feet. You grab the bottle of vodka from her hands and stumble in the direction of the terrace door.
You feel tears well up in your eyes as you remember that day a few weeks ago. It happened in your dorm room again, you just came home from another lecture. Grabbing you from behind in complete darkness, Megumi covered your mouth with his hand to keep you from screaming as he pressed cold metal to your temple. You will never forget how utterly and absolutely terrified you were.
You will never forget the look he had in his eyes when he threw you against the wall and made you face him. You could see on his face how much he enjoyed having absolute power over you.
***
"You fucking stalking me now?" he spat at you, holding you against the wall of your dorm room by your neck. Your throat still hurt from the last time he did this to you.
Megumi had an old revolver in the other hand and pointed it at your head. "What the fuck did you think you were doing last night? You are fucking crazy, Y/N." Your body was shaking, he sounded so angry it completely scared the shit of you.
Would you let him treat you like this for the rest of your life?
"You were fucking some other bitch last night you fucking asshole," you screamed out, cutting him off. "I fucking know it! Stop bullshitting me I fucking heard you through that door." You started crying.
"You telling me this after you sucked off some random guy at the party you were at? You fucking kidding me?" - "We just kissed an-and I was drunk-" you started explaining but got cut off as Megumi pulled you towards him by your neck before slamming your head against the wall. You let out a muffled groan.
He was still holding the gun to your temple and you were scared shitless that it would go off.
”'We just kissed and I was drunk'” he mimicked your voice and you cried out in pain. Your head hurt, your face was scrunched up and your eyes closed.
”You are a fucking whore, Y/N, and you don't fucking own up to your actions. You’re a fucking slut and you think you deserve to get treated like a fucking princess.” Megumi spat at you.
You started bawling.
"At least that bitch wasn't as fucking annoying." Megumi huffed.
"I really fucking hate you." You yelled at him.
"Leave me alone, stop touching me." You felt a headache coming on, your head was throbbing and tears were flowing uncontrollably down your face. "I hate you."
How could you keep on doing this to yourself? You slowly came to the realization that nor you were scared of him neither you were scared of him being violent. You were simply scared about the fact that no matter what he did to you, you couldn't stop loving him.
"I know you do." Megumi answered.
He took his hand off from around your neck and you felt the cold metal leave your skin as he slowly lowered the gun. Your pulse pounded against the spot where the barrel had just been pointed at and you see the usual blank stare returning to his face.
"You're abusive and a fucking psychopathic maniac." you cried, trying to catch some air.
He just kept staring at you with emptiness in his eyes, watching tears stream down your cheeks.
"I hate the way you're making me feel, Megumi." you added quietly, staring at the ground.
"I know." he said.
You sniffled, tears still streaming down your face.
"Can't you just leave me alone already?" you said, rubbing the bruising on your throat with shaky hands. You didn't even believe yourself and the words that came out of your mouth seemed so far away. As if you were standing next to yourself and listening to some other person talking.
"That's what you want me to do?" he asked in a calm voice and lifted the gun that was still in his hand.
No you didn't.
Megumi opened the chamber of the revolver in his hands. You saw that it was indeed loaded when he dropped the six bullets into his hand and slipped five of them in his pocket. He then placed a single round back into the gun and spinned the cylinder with his thumb.
You stood there in silence and watched what he was doing.
He lifted the gun and held it against your forehead. You closed your eyes, unable to stop your body from shaking. You begged him to stop.
"Megumi, stop, you’re scaring me, please stop that." you pleaded. "Just leave me alone, please stop-"
Not until you felt him pull back the gun did you dare to open your eyes. Your cheeks were wet with tears and as soon as you opened your eyes, his gaze met yours. His dark eyes looked so empty as he put the barrel to his own head.
Your heart stopped once again.
And then he pulled the trigger.
You squealed and instantly flinched but you could only hear a silent click! - the gun didn’t go off.
Suddenly it dawned on you what he was up to. Even if you didn't quite want to believe it, in the condition he was in right now he would have been capable of anything. Even of something as crazy as this.
And you were so fucking scared of how far he would go this time.
"Megumi- stop p-please STOP." you sobbed.
He was manic. Completely out of his mind.
"You asked me to leave you alone." His voice eerily calm, as always. He closed his eyes and grimaced, pulling the trigger again.
Nothing. No loud BANG! just a faint metallic click!
Watching him almost put a bullet in his head a second time had traumatized you. If he hadn't managed to do that by now, he certainly did at that moment.
"Megumi- PLEASE- please stop this." you screamed hysterically and reached out to him, your hand now touching his chest.
"Please stop, I-I love you- I love you so much- p-please stop I don’t want you to leave me, please-" you wailed. Your body followed your hand and you leaned against him, head buried in his chest. You felt so weak, barely able to hold yourself on your feet. You sobbed and cried into his chest, staining the fabric of his sweater with salty tears.
And you could feel that his body was shaking as well.
You didn't dare look up at him. After a minute that felt like an eternity you finally felt his arm wrap around your waist, stone-cold metal now pressed against your back.
Megumi’s chin was resting on top of your head and he slowly pressed his lips to you hair, inhaling your scent while planting kisses.
"Next time you ask me to leave you I’ll kill us both." he whispered in a cold voice and you nodded, barely noticeable.
"I love you." he added and you closed your eyes.
He loved you. That was all that mattered to you.
You could never love another man, not even if you wanted to.
***
You made it back inside on shaky legs, your heels were way too high for the amount of booze you had in your system by now. You screw off the lid of the bottle in your hands and take a sip. Looking around you spot none of your friends except Yuta but he didn’t seem to notice you.
He’s sitting on that very couch you were sitting on with Choso just a while ago and at a second glance you can see that he’s making out with your roommate. Maki didn’t seem to notice you either, as she was completely distracted by Yuta’s lips and his hands all over her body.
Under other circumstances you would have been quite excited about this turn of events - you knew how long Maki had been crushing on him. And you also knew that Yuta was the one who fell first, given how he acted around her and how he looked at her like she was the only woman on the planet.
But now you were way too drunk and way to invested in finding Megumi to care about anything else. You push past a few people while drinking from the almost empty bottle, trying to find the front door.
After taking a few wrong turns you eventually find yourself standing in front of the door through which you had entered the apartment a couple hours ago. And just as you put your hand on the doorknob, you feel someone snatch the bottle from you.
"What the-" you start and turn around, looking at pink hair and a deeply concerned face.
"What are you doing? Let me get you home." Yuji was completely sober again, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.
"I really need to get som' fresh air Yuji, please jus' leave me 'lone" You slur, struggling to stay on your feet.
Yuji held the empty bottle in his left hand and grabbed your wrist with his right to keep you from falling.
"Y/N, please, don’t go out there by yourself. You can either sleep in my room or I’ll get you home." He tries to pull you away from the door but you stand your ground.
"Please just let me gooo." you beg, impatiently stomping with your feet after finding your balance again. "Let me go." you insist and try to pull your arm away from him.
"I just don't want you to get hurt, Y/N" Yuji says and you have literally no idea on how to get out of this situation. It was not like he would just let you leave like this.
"Listn' I really don' need a babysitter and I have an Uber waiting for me, so please just lemme' go." you lie to him, hoping he would be satisfied with that.
"Bullshit, you did not call an Uber. That’s like a five minute walk, we’re right next to campus." he busted your lie. "What are you really up to, huh?" Yuji asks.
Choso and Yuji indeed lived right next to the campus. You had always asked yourself how they were able to afford this huge apartment and you figured that Choso not only consumed the drugs he hid here by himself - but also dealt them. That would explain at least a few things, for example all the people who constantly went in and out of here.
After a while of not answering him, Yuji finally lets go of your wrist and looks at the ground.
"You're looking for him, don't you?" he asks after meeting your gaze again. The look in his eyes made you feel so terrible and ashamed.
"Listen, he’s my best friend too, but he just beat up my brother and that look on his face? I don’t know Y/N, he looked like he was capable of anything in that moment." You tried to avoid his gaze, but no chance. It seemed like he pinned you to the wall with his eyes alone.
"I'm not looking for him- I'm-" you start when suddenly you get cut off by a few guys that were calling out for Yuji. As he turns around for a split second you immediately take advantage of him being distracted to open the door and slip outside.
You quickly walk in the direction of the stairs, your head spinning but you try to stay composed and take one step after the other before finally stumbling through the door downstairs onto the street.
The sky was completely black, not a single star in sight and the only light was coming from a few dimly lit street lamps. Thankfully it was still relatively warm outside.
You take a few shaky steps away from the building, still a bit afraid Yuji would follow you. You were in no condition to run from him.
For a while the sound of your heels on concrete is the only thing you can hear until you notice the faint buzz of your phone in your purse.
MEGUMI: "Meet me outside. I'll wait for you." Your heart starts beating faster.
The text was from about 30 minutes ago so you figure that you didn't have a signal upstairs in the apartment. You look up from the screen and turn around, trying to find where Megumi was waiting.
You flinch a little when suddenly a parked car on the side of the road starts its engine.
You recognize the black pickup truck and as the lights inside light up for a brief moment, you see Megumi sitting in the driver's seat. Your vision is still a bit blurry and your head’s dizzy but your legs are already carrying you towards the car.
He really expected you to come looking for him.
You open the car's door and slip into the passenger seat without saying a word. The lights inside are dimmed and you can only see his pale, slender fingers on the steering wheel. His dark clothes swallow him up and the hood of his sweater is pulled down over his face.
Megumi did not say a single word either, his face turned towards the windshield in front of him.
"Y/N!" you hear someone call out for you as you close the door behind you. Looking through the window you spot Yuji at the entrance door of the apartment building. He's holding the open door and watching you get into the car.
"Your dog’s already looking for you, huh?" Megumi asks without expecting an answer and starts the truck. He drives off before Yuji could even think about running after you.
Yuji's eyes were full of concern and yours were full of guilt as you turn to face him, but you quickly lower your gaze. You couldn’t stand looking at him. You knew how desperate he must feel right now.
At this point you wouldn't blame your friends if they never spoke to you ever again. The hours they spent worrying about you, the evenings they spent trying to talk you out of your relationship with Megumi.
It was all for nothing.
You slip out of your heels and throw them to the back of the truck. Megumi looked at you, one hand on the steering wheel. He watched you while you were rubbing your aching feet, trying to ease the pain from walking in these goddamn high heels for hours.
With his free hand he stroked your thigh, motioning you to put your legs in his lap.
"C'mere." you hear his deep voice and you hesitate for a second before you stretch your legs out towards him. He starts massaging your freshly pedicured feet with one hand, the other one gripping the steering wheel tightly. His eyes were focused on the road in front of him.
You close your eyes for a moment and enjoy the sensation of his touch, your whole body was aching and this right now was a blessing, no matter how awkward the situation was.
After a few minutes you feel the car speeding up. You knew that Megumi was probably still drunk but you also did not really care about it. It was not a big surprise to you that he would drive drunk and it was also not the first time he did this.
For a really long time neither of you said a single word and you were just enjoying his touch on your skin, without having to fill the silence.
"What were you thinking?" Megumi was the first to break the silence, eyes still fixated on the road. His voice was icy and it made you shiver.
"What d’you mean?" you ask, pretending to be clueless. Your head starts spinning a little as you open your eyes again.
"Don’t play dumb." Megumi huffed, looking over to you, directly into your eyes. "I mean you, sitting in Choso's lap, behaving like a slut in front of everyone."
"Mhm." you answer, turning your face away from him. You switch on the radio. 'After Hours' by The Weeknd starts playing, probably from some playlist you made for him.
"Technically, I wasn’t sitting in his lap." you say. You're not sure you would have had the courage to say that if Megumi hadn't been busy driving.
Even though you’re unsure of what to say next, you didn't want to submit to him again. You did not want to make yourself so small anymore.
"Shouldn’t the question be: Why the hell do you even care?" You shift your weight and put one foot up on his thigh, stroking his crotch through the fabric of his pants.
The last bit of alcohol in your blood gave you at least a little courage.
"It’s not like we are together anymore." you say teasingly as he looks over to you again.
Megumi grabs your leg, pushing it back down roughly. You wince, as his grip on your ankle is a bit too harsh.
"Ouch." you protest and he lets go of you. You send him an innocent smile and tilt your head to the side, as you continue to stroke his thigh with your foot. You feel a bulge growing in his crotch just seconds later
"So why does it matter to you?" He doesn’t answer. You see the grip of his hand tighten around the steering wheel, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he keeps on caressing your feet and legs, trying to push them down or hold you still but you don’t let him.
The two of you just sit in silence again, listening to the music without talking to each other.
"It matters because I don’t want to see that fucking bastard all over you, acting like he owns y-" Megumi says after a while but you cut him off.
"We’re not together anymore and you don’t get to beat up anyone I am involved with," You snap at him. "Cut your fucking bullshit Megumi, I am sick of this."
You don’t know how to feel. This is all so confusing - a big part of you is annoyed with him and so hurt and heartbroken, but the other part, probably even bigger, wants to nestle in against his chest and leave as little space as possible between the two of you.
And he knew that, too. That smug piece of shit knew you inside out, and acting was not exactly your strength.
"Then why are you here?" he asks and glances at you, both hands on the steering wheel again.
You think for a moment, look over at him, then out the window again. You skip to the next song and loll your legs in his lap now sitting on your side and resting against the back of the car seat.
"I guess I make terrible life choices and besides, you almost hospitalized my one chance at some superficial sex tonight so you have to deal with me now." You say, trying to sound almost bored. Or at least unbothered.
Megumi swallows, eyes still fixated on the road. You figured that this was not what he wanted to hear but to your surprise you hear him chuckle seconds later.
Well, as you had already noted: he knew you too well.
"Nah, don’t bullshit me." he sneered. "You started looking for me as soon as you arrived at that party. I saw you disappear with Yuji immediately after."
Megumi ignored your little show of pretending that all of this left you completely cold and you just wanted to end up in someones bed. It was a show after all.
"And I saw you getting out of that bathroom, holding hands with my best friend." You cross your arms. "Wearing the dress I bought for you. "
"I doubt that you wanted Choso to fuck you tonight." Megumi huffs, his deep voice making your heart race.
"I doubt that you wanted anyone else’s attention than mine." He was so right.
After a few more minutes of sitting in silence with the music playing softly in the background and Megumi driving off into the darkness, you roll the window all the way down. He looks over to you as you lean your head out slightly, hair waving in the breeze.
You take a deep breath and lean out a bit further, supporting yourself on the window frame. As you arch your back a little, your breasts start to perk up and you close your eyes to fully enjoy the cool night air blowing in your face. Besides the music and the sound of the engine it was so quiet outside. The world was asleep and somehow that comforted you.
You feel Megumi’s gaze on your body. His hands act upon his thoughts as he starts stroking up your calves, over your thighs and further up under your dress. You lean back inside and your eyes meet, but as always you couldn't quite read his expression.
You slowly pull your legs out of his lap and rest your feet on the dashboard. Without breaking eye contact you lift yourself up out of your seat, pulling up your dress a little and taking off your panties. His eyes widen for a second but he seems to try his best to stay composed.
In your perception, you didn't have much power over him. Not after he managed to read you like an open book once again. He was right about everything he said, even if you wish it was different.
You only went to that party because you hoped something like this would happen.
Megumi would probably not make that statement - even if it didn't seem like that to you, he knew you could bring him to his knees with the blink of an eye.
He swallows hard, turns away for a moment to look at the road and looks right back at you again. You feel his hand run across your thigh, squeezing gently.
You meet his gaze with the most innocent smile on your lips before you throw your panties in his direction.
Megumi's lips twitch as he takes a look at the pair of panties lying in his lap.
"I knew I was right." he says with a smug grin on his lips. You notice his eyes immediately scanning the road for an exit and you giggle as the car takes a sharp turn off into some run-down construction side.
"Well, you better hurry up, so you can make up for the amazing sex I would’ve had if it wasn’t for you." you purr and look up at him from big doe eyes.
He glances over, looking you up and down
"I will definitely make you regret saying that out loud." Megumi hums before he brings the car to a halt in the shadow of an unfinished building.
You roll the window back up and climb over to him without thinking twice, straddling his lap in the drivers seat. He grabs your hips to bring you into the right position and you smile down at him before you lower your lips to his neck.
"Promise?" you ask and feel his hands move all over your body before sliding under your dress, pushing it up and squeezing your ass with both of his hands while you’re leaving hickeys on his pale skin.
"God, I missed that feeling." he groans as you grind down on his lap. You can feel how hard he already was while dampening the fabric of his pants with your soaking wet pussy. You pull back for a moment and look into his eyes. Just seconds later your lips crash down on his, wet and sloppy as you hold his face with both of your hands.
His hands move further down your ass and you moan into his mouth when his fingers reach your slick heat, sliding through your wet folds. He teases you, circling your clit and your clenching hole lazily with two fingers. He deepens the kiss before your lips part with an audible pop! and you’re left to catch your breath.
His lips wander along your jaw and the side of your neck while your hands move from his face down his neck and over his chest, further down to his pants. Megumi’s hands are back on your ass to lift you up a little so you can try and open up his belt to pull down his trousers. With a hasty movement you relieve him of his pants and grind down on him immediately after.
You flinch a little when you feel his leaking tip brush against your sensitive clit. Letting out a quiet whimper you start grinding on him again, sliding his hard dick through your wet folds. He pulls you into another kiss, gentle at first before he nips at your bottom lip and then bites down hard. You pant and slide your tongue into his mouth, making him groan in return.
You pull away and look deep into his eyes, arms now wrapped around his neck. Megumi pulls you up again by your waist, positioning his cock at your wet entrance. You cry out in pleasure just as he pushes the fat tip of his cock inside you without giving you any time to adjust.
"Ahh, 'gumi! Fuck-" you moan. You lift yourself up again, the sensation of his dick filling you out being just too much to handle for you right now. Megumi looks at you, a crooked smile on his lips. Hands on your hips and lower back he pulls you closer to him, you can feel his hot breath against your neck.
"Too much?" He breathes into your ear. "Guess you didn’t fuck around after all."
"Good girl 'been waiting for me." he whispers, caressing your back with one hand before he thrusts up deep into your tight pussy, bottoming out completely. You squeal but have no chance of escaping him as he holds you in place with both of his hands.
"Ah- Fuck! Fuck- Megumi-" you whine, throwing your head back in pleasure.
"Shit- How are you so fucking tight?" you hear Megumi growl though clenched teeth as he holds you down for another moment to keep you from moving. Finally his grip on your hips loosens a little and you start grinding up and down, picking up the pace. Still, you felt how much he hated not having full control over you so he kept on guiding you with his hands.
He watched your pussy swallow his cock whole, going so deep and hitting spots inside you that made you cry out in pleasure and pain, his thick girth stretching you out just right.
Megumi is quick to push your dress further up your waist to expose your boobs, watching them bounce up and down as you keep on riding his dick. You moan out in pleasure while picking up the pace of grinding on his cock, making him pant and groan against your soft skin.
His gaze and hands wander all over your body, having your soaked cunt crush down on his cock even harder now that you were free to move however you liked. Megumi’s getting lost in watching your cute pussy bury him deep inside, creaming and slowly forming a white ring around his shaft.
Your head’s still thrown back in pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of your head from the sensation of your tight hole clenching around his thick girth, your moans and gasps and groans and the sound of skin slapping against skin fill up the car.
He watches you in awe as you fuck yourself on his cock exactly how you need it, whimpering, moaning and breathing so hard as he puts a thumb to your clit, drawing harsh circles that make you flinch.
"You’re so fucking beautiful-" he groans, trying to catch his breath and coming back to reality as he notices your moans getting needier and your breathing getting harder.
"'Please 'gumi- need you to-" you babble, your grinding on his dick gets sloppier and after a few more lazy circles Megumi's hands move to your waist, squeezing the fat on your hips on his way up.
One hand on your waist, the other moving up, grabbing and squeezing your boobs before wrapping around your neck, he holds you in place as he roughly starts fucking up into you.
Your thighs were already shaking, his hand around your neck still squeezing tightly. You’re gasping for air while now being fucked at a brutal pace.
"Oh- Fuck- just like that Megumi-" you moan. "Please d-don’t stop- Just like that-" The quiet pleads leave your lips and you close your eyes, desperately trying to hold yourself up by supporting yourself with your hands on the window frame and steering wheel.
"You think Choso would’ve made you feel like this?" Megumi sneered, already leaving bruises on your neck by how hard he was squeezing down his hand. You try to shake your head but instead you can just let out a quiet whimper.
"Huh? You think he could’ve fucked you like I fuck you?" he spat, loosening his grip just as you begin to see stars forming in the corners of your eyes. You feel his hand on your cheek and a second later you hear a loud slap! followed by a stinging sensation on your face.
"I asked you a question." he growls, his thumb on your lips, pressing into your mouth. You begin to suck on it instinctively, your eyes half closed and your strength slowly leaving you because he was pounding so hard up into you.
"N-No- only you-" you whimper, voice breaking.
"Good girl," he praises "be a good little slut and keep squeezing me so tight." His thumb leaves your mouth and you fall forward a bit, losing the support of his hands. Your walls clench around him, turning you into a moaning mess against the hot, sweaty skin of his face.
"Fuck- such a good little whore for me, huh?" Megumi growls into your ear while your head rests against the side of his face. He’s still at a brutal pace, his thrusts getting even deeper and you can’t help but whimper and cry on top of him.
"P-Please- Can’t take n’more" you sob while he fucks into you relentlessly, making you cry out in pain and pleasure.
"Please- Please let me cum-" you whimper, tears starting to form in the corners of your eyes.
"Look at me." Megumi orders and you try to lean back again, supported by his strong arms holding you upright.
"F-Feels so good." you cry, squirming and wiggling under his touch, overwhelmed with the delicious feeling of his dick pumping in and out of you. He’s hitting all the right spots while your walls are squeezing him so tight. Megumi holds you in place, hands on your hips and lower back, not letting you move a centimeter to the side.
"Fuck- doing so good- now cum on my dick, be a good girl for me." Megumi groans, not taking his eyes off of you for even a second. Tears roll down your cheeks while you look deep into his dark eyes, black strands of hair sticking to the damp skin of his forehead.
With every thrust you feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter, with every brush of his shaft against your puffy clit you feel yourself getting closer to the edge until you feel that sweet release washing over your body with a final harsh thrust. Your lewd moans and your tight pussy clenching around his cock throw him over the edge just seconds later and you feel him pumping his load deep into you with a few feral groans escaping his lips.
"F-fuck- keep squeezing me so tight," he breathes into your ear, pressing your body as close as possible to his while you lazily continue to move up and down on his dick. "Good girl." Megumi moans. He holds you tight and you bury your face in the crook of his neck.
For quite a long time you both are just trying to catch your breath, entwined in each others arms. The truck’s windows are steamed-up and only the shallow light of the moon falling through the windshield makes it possible for you to see anything at all.
"You’re something else." Megumi whispers after a while, his soft cock gliding out of your sticky cunt and his hot breath hitting your skin. He quickly pulls up his pants and pulls down your dress before he pulls you back into his lap, your body trembling under his touch.
"I missed you." he says and you feel so exhausted that you can only nestle into his chest, listen to his heartbeat and close your eyes, while he strokes your back gently.
"Let me stay the night. I’ll get you home." he whispers and plants a kiss on top of your hair.
"Not if you’ll leave me again." Your voice sounded so delicate and fragile, he had to pause and swallow before he could answer.
"I won’t." he says quietly.
"Please don’t leave me again." you repeat yourself and you feel a single tear forming in the corner of your eye that gets wiped away by Megumi’s hand caressing your cheek.
"I promise." You look up at him and he pulls you into a deep kiss. "I love you." you say quietly.
He doesn’t say anything.
"I still love you." You feel so vulnerable, it’s almost making you sick. "I don’t care about us fighting or fucking or obsessing over each other - deep down I know that I’m only capable of loving you."
"You’re the only one I want." You add in a low voice.
"I know." You hear Megumi’s muffled voice, his face is buried in your hair.
If only he could see the damage he did to you. How dependent you were, how much he was hurting you.
If only you could see how much you were pouring oil on his fire, how obsessed you were with him.
There was no happy end for the both of you and deep down you knew that.
#megumi angst#megumi smut#megumi fushiguro#fushiguro megumi#megumi fushiguro smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#jjk x you#Jjk x reader#jjk#megumi x reader#fushiguro x reader#smut#fanfic#sh0ek0#dark megumi#dark megumi fushiguro
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heyy i was wondering, since we already know Cam really likes music (especially kpop), if we could know what the other characters' taste in music is like? mostly how often they listen to it, what genres they like and whatnot. just out of curiosity :)
and what about movie genres? we know Deja and MC often watch movies together while Deja paints her nails, but does she care for the genre? and everyone else?
really loved the demo, i can't wait to see how the game develops. thank you and everyone who's working on this game for all your hard work 🫶
D'aww thank you for the kind words! Motivation up up!
Music Tastes
Haha now for your ask, we actually have a scene for players in the extended demo regarding this! It's a bit of a spoiler in the context of the scene's theme so I won't disclose it quite yet (sorryyyy gotta wait for the extended demo first ahdakldh) but I can say this:
Elio and Cameron often listen to music. For Cameron, it's because it's one of their favorite pastimes. Plus, in their opinion, music makes the commute to and from campus faster.
Elio on the other hand listens to music a lot because of the dance team. Anddd because he's dabbled a bit with playing (if others haven't seen the previous post yet, he's our guy with a ton of skills so he actually knows how to play a couple of instruments).
Though they've got their reasons, Cameron's definitely coming out on top with the highest stats on their Spotify wrap.
Third would be Reynah and actually you don't get to learn about her favorite type of music since she's not in the scene so I will disclose her favs! She's big on old school music, early late 1980's and early 1990's! Anything goes within that time frame, hip-hop, pop, rock, ballads, etc.. She does listen to modern music, but she's got a couple of fond memories of her parents playing older tunes during car rides so they've stuck with her.
Deja, Percy, and Jamie have their favorites of course but their numbers don't come as close to the other three.
Speaking of music, we curated some playlists about the cast! Some players already came across the playlists on our art director's Spotify that is catered to the idea of them, so songs that give off Cameron, Deja, etc. energy. And I actually got to work on making playlists about the music they'd listen to.
You can listen to the first since it's public. This is what the some of the dev team members listen to for the Keyframes vibes when we're working! And you can check out their page for specific cast members. But I'll share the ones about their music taste when I get them done!
Movies/Media Taste
Oh movies is a cute thought!
Unfortunately, Deja doesn't care to watch movies, hence why she opts to do her nails during it. She's got a habit of looking things up ahead of time as well so "watching" isn't something she likes to do. That being said, she likes mystery genres or things that she can think about-- because the twists and themes are still interesting to her even if she spoils it for herself lol
Cameron's got their favorites when they're by themself but they're big on anything and everything with company! Ghibli movies are a good thing to shout to get their attention (they've seen Ponyo like too many times to count haha). Cringey stuff are a safe and hilarious genre for them to put on when they crash at your place, too.
But since MC is a part of their dynamic trio, a lot of what Deja and Cameron watch is ultimately shaped by MC's likes too! Since Deja doesn't have too much of an opinion and Cameron's down to watch anything, your likes are their likes! Granted they'll tell you if it's reallyyyy bad because that's what friends are for lol
Reynah's not too big on films either- but in the way that she just doesn't watch them by herself. Usually, it's other people inviting her to watch one, and she's always happy to tag along and share any opinions about the viewing (they're usually in good light if not critical). That being said, she does have her favorites! It's just hard to say she likes one genre when she hasn't seen everything and she's found gems across multiple genres.
Reynah, at some point probably: I love Night at the Museum, does that mean I like fantasy or comedy the best? Nope!
For the guysssss, you can expect foreign movies (Japanese, Thai, and Euro movies are often exchanged since they've got their favorites from childhood), and romcoms and early '00-'10 movies. The latter is because they firmly believe that's the best era of movies. Home Alone, Lord of the Rings, 27 Dresses, The Last Holiday, etc, etc.
Percy, at one point: They just don't make 'em like they used to.
Elio, shaking his head solemnly: Kids these days won't get to know true movie magic.
Jamie tilts his head: Sorry, what's High School Musical?
P & E: WHAT
Aha yeah, Jamie didn't grow up watching the same things they did. He knows some of them like LOTR but that's just because it's a big franchise. Before his roommates educated him on early American romcoms and feel good movies (which included an HSM marathon and the entire soundtrack on repeat at their place), Jamie stuck to the classics/big names- things that have left a mark in cinema history like the Godfather and the Breakfast Club.
That kind of media is actually what he, Deja, and Reynah bond over. It's the symbolism or the overarching theme that tends to keep their interests so they'll have discussions about it if it comes up. Ah, and, horror. All three of them are completely unbothered by it as a genre and boy are there plenty to talk about the human psyche and behavior there.
If I had to summarize everything:
Jamie, Deja, and Reynah like films that invoke thought. Especially as people who don't often watch movies.
Meanwhile, Cameron, Percy, and Elio are all for the ones that evoke emotion. It's a good movie if they cry. It's a good movie if they're shouting at the screen. It's fantastic film if they get to do both!
Other things about movies for them:
Percy won't watch any horror- nope don't even think about asking him to.
Elio will look at a stunt or a choreography in a film and attempt it himself at least once.
Jamie is the first in his seat with a bowl of popcorn when the guys are doing their movie nights. He also has a sour view of Howl from Howl's Moving Castle since some people have said he looks like the character.
Cameron would suggest repeats a lot during your movie nights- their favorites are their favorites for a reason.
Deja rarely reacts to movies- but she will never recover from Grave of the Fireflies.
Reynah, freshman year, had been invited to 18 different playtimes at the town's cinema over the course of two months and, yes, she saw all of them.
~*~*~*~
And that's it! Wah, my responses are getting longer and longer... haha you guys let me know if I'm ever dumping too much about our cast and I'll hold back. But thanks for the lovely ask!
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(his post is made by an endo neutral, anti leaning, cdds first alter who is critical of both pro endos and anti endos.)
i do have a problem with the... hypocrisy of syscourse.
the amount of things anti endos do that would get death threats sent to pro endos if they did the same is WILD.. and i think some of you need to take a step back. what happened to treat others the way they want to be treated?
1. hiding responses debunking information
yeah i think everyone knows who im talking about. you make a post with faulty sources and when someone makes a post debunking your sources and information, you hide it. that's blatant disinformation at this point.
it's Okay to be wrong by the way. you don't have to be right.
2. wishing death upon endogenic systems
ive seen NOBODY talk about it but there's an art piece going around depicting someone holding a sword, with the text "death upon endos" (paraphrased.) and for this one i KNOW people would react badly because i remember the kill the anti endo inside of you merch. that was HEINOUS. but this is fine? i dont know how to break it to you guys but wishing death upon people is not. the leftist take you think it is. id say its actually pretty ableist. i wouldnt call it fascistic because that's a bit extreme (for both pieces of artworks) but Dear God
3. infantilization (for lack of better terms) of pro/endos
assuming endogenic systems or even pro endogenic (cdd) systems are being groomed or are just misinformed or what not. these are people. ive said it before and i'll say it again but people have the right to have different opinions. than you. it doesn't mean they've been groomed, it doesn't mean they're idiots, they are autonomous human beings who have decided, "hey, i think pro endos exist."
4. accusations of grooming
im really upset about this one. as a survivor of grooming i really think you guys need to learn what grooming means. grooming is inherently sexual.
"One tool common to those who sexually abuse kids is grooming: manipulative behaviors that the abuser uses to gain access to a potential victim, coerce them to agree to the abuse, and reduce the risk of being caught." from RAINN. stop flippantly using such words. as a grooming victim it genuinely grinds my gears that you are watering this term down. imagine if someone said anti endos were grooming people into thinking endos weren't real.
5. invasion of tags
this one i also know you'd be upset about because ive seen endos invade tags and they (rightfully so) get called out. i dont quite like how it's okay to do this for anti endos.
6. claiming singlets can't be in syscourse
this one especially makes me mad. i know if a singlet said "endos aren't real" a lot of anti endos would be leaping for joy. but when a singlet says "endos are real" it's all "singlets need to stay out of syscourse." i hate to break it to you. i really do. but singlets are autonomous people who, regardless of whether you like it or not, have the right to an opinion. especially because fused systems may count themselves as singlets.
please think before you do something. please put yourself into other people's shoes.
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hi!! i have a friend whos really into pm and stuff and i know a lot about the games, never played them myself but pm is my fandom in law, what happened? saw your post about not playing it anymore, im just genuinely curious and uninformed
i don't think i have 1 singular post to explain the whole thing in depth but you can search the tag "project moon controversy" on my blog (or anywhere?) to see some longer posts; i'll summarize it for you from memory:
when the summer event for limbus was announced, incels from a site called dc inside harassed the cg artist for being a woman. they used multiple shit excuses, such as the female characters not getting swimsuits for the event (even though the cg artist was not responsible for that); then dug up several-year-old previously deleted tweets from the artist's personal acct to prove she was a feminist and thus should be fired (said tweets were retweets about things like peeping cameras in bathrooms being bad). they also made up lies about her
they went to projmoon's office, pm very quickly wrote a tweet claiming she was let go for breaking terms, and now she is no longer making the cgs. that first tweet took months for them to translate into english and japanese when usually messages are posted in all 3 languages at once
many problems have been cropping up from this including:
pm pretending they fired/ dismissed/ terminated the contract/ whatever wording they want to use; to protect her -- despite them stating in the initial message that it was because they thought she broke terms. they ended up putting her in a bad light
pm threatening to sue people who criticize them, including unions
the translation of the initial tweet that finally came out contradicted pm's other tweets; they say they took too long to translate them because they were “unaware of the controversy”. they did this right before tokyo game show
they now claim the artist decided to leave herself, but there's no proof that she wasn't pushed/forced to do this
they said they wouldn't use her art for canto 5 onwards but they're still reusing the cgs she illustrated even in canto 5
multiple other past employees including the artists for the comics wonderlab and leviathan came out to speak on mismanagement, mistreatment or a lack of protection from pm. wonderlab has since been taken down from pm's postype at that illustrator's request
many of the korean fanbase has left, including every kr artist i used to follow
the incels are still harassing people
limbus' player count is bleeding
the new cg art for canto 5 is... compare these (i'm worried that the artist left is now dealing with too big of a workload; they did a great job with ruina but it feels like they're being rushed now?)
(event cgs by the artist who's gone)
(canto 5 cgs)
and more
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20 Questions for Fic Writers
thank you @pitconfirm and @vicsy for the tag hehe
1. How many works do you have on ao3
19...what's crazy is that exactly one year ago I had 1 work..
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
Not a lot for the number of fics i have: 58,374
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Right now, just F1!
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
Show Me Your Neck - My best "earlier" strollonso fic, I remember brainstorming this with the pals and then immediately writing
Chew Toy - I'm ngl Idk why people like this fic it's just alright
Cat got your tongue? - Cat hybrid Lance!! In terms of how fast it got kudos, it's probably my most successful fic
Everything is Grey - One of my favourite fics I've written. Pre-Aston strollonso slaps
I'm Pretty When I Cry - I hardly remember writing this it was a fever dream. However this proves my theory that your most smuttiest work may not have the most kudos, but will have a lott of bookmarks
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Yes, there is not a single comment that doesn't have a response from me. I'm just immensely grateful for every comment I get!
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Everything is Grey for sure uhh I swear I'll turn it into an actual series by the end of the year...
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Literally every other fic. Maybe I’ll Give You Forever ? But honestly I just wanna plug my Este/Lance fic lol
8. Do you get hate on fics?
Not that i know of, aside from an ask I got one time that was more...harsh criticism than anything else (don't ask me if i cried)
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
yes...and the normal kind I guess? (for now) honestly I haven't written detailed smut in a while I only write it when i feel like it haha
10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?
Not really my thing but I'm open to reading them
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Hopefully not or else I will put a curse upon their family
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Nope but I'd be down if someone wanted to!
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
I'd love to one day! I do a lot of brainstorming with others though especially with @no00000000 luv you <3
14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?
In terms of what I'm obsessed with right now (and will continue to do so) then it's Strollonso. In terms of ships that I've fucked with for a long time...Clint Barton/Phil Coulson...yeah don't start on the parallels between those two ships just don't-
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
Ohh probably my George/Lance fic idea based on their vegas lore...I've had the whole plot planned out in Discord dm's since last summer but it's kind of an ambitious idea...
16. What are your writing strengths?
ugh this is hard. but I think my writing is pretty easy to read if that makes sense? I tend to keep things lighthearted and fun, but then I punch you with feels oops. I also love researching and including facts/lore!
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
I can't write long fic to save my life.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
Personally when I write, I only use things like terms of endearment, but very sparingly. I would love to write more in a language I actually know but then no one would be able to read it 😂
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Kpop. You can find it on my ao3 lol i ain't ashamed of that one.
20. Favourite fic you’ve written?
Aside from the fics I've already mentioned, If that burns a bridge (then it wasn't a very good bridge) is a fic that I really like because it was challenging to write. I have very conflicting feelings about this pair, but I liked weaving all the characters together. The comments were very good as well and I'm super grateful because I was feeling sooo iffy about if the fic was actually good or not.
I don't know who's been tagged or not and no pressure to do this <3 but I tag @princelancey @parallelplayers and @no00000000
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