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hikari-kaitou · 3 years

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Capcom’s Official AA Fanclub Surveys - Main Series Edition

Naturally, Capcom’s official AA fanclub site didn't only post surveys about the DGS characters; they published far more of them about the main series characters. It makes sense, as they started the trend before the DGS series had even been conceived.

Back in the old days, they used to hold a survey on Capcom’s official AA fansite every few months where they’d write about the seasonal activities of a handful of characters and ask fans to vote for the funniest/most pleasant/strangest/etc answer.

They stopped doing them in like… 2016? 2017? The original text is lost for good as far as I can tell. Even the wayback machine couldn’t help because the content was password locked and you can’t get past the password wall while remaining in the archived version.

Fortunately, I saved some of my translations of them so I thought I’d share them. Unfortunately, I was doing these translations very casually and only intended to share them with two of my close friends at the time when I did them, so some of them are just summaries rather than proper translations, and I tended to only focus on characters that we personally were interested in or scenarios that we thought were funny or interesting. That means there are parts missing, and because I didn't expect the original text to be wiped off the site I didn't save it so I could go back and fill in the blanks. Sorry about that...

Cut for length!

"Spring is on its way and each of the AA cast members spent their day off in different ways. Who's way of spending their day off sounds the most pleasant?"

Phoenix- he finished unpacking his moving boxes and sorting his seasonal clothing. While he was packing away his ugly pink sweater and such, he happened across the complete works of Shakespeare at the bottom of one of the boxes, got completely absorbed in reading, and ended up abandoning his unpacking.

Mia- She went shopping at a department store for a new summer suit. On her way, she coincidentally ran into Maya, who was on her way to the agency to hang out, but then at some point Maya vanished. Mia tried calling her cell phone but she didn't answer. "Don't tell me she's lost at her age," Mia thought, and began to search for her. She found Maya transfixed by a rooftop Steel Samurai show. It seems that she was both exasperated and relieved.

Maya- she tagged along on Mia's shopping trip, but the second she spied a poster for a rooftop Steel Samurai show, she made a beeline for the roof. She got into a cheering battle with a mean-looking elementary school boy and really enjoyed the show. When the show was over, she reunited with an exasperated looking Mia. She gleefully led Mia to a burger restaurant so they could eat some burgers together.

Edgeworth- he treated himself to a drive along the coast in his red sports car... Well, that was the plan, but then he was pushed by his mentor Von Karma into being the driver for his shopping trip. As a reward for his service, he received a brand new Von Karma style, stylish and flashy summer suit.

Then there's Larry, who dragged Phoenix to a café to hit on its hot owner, and the judge who bought a wig.

"Apollo, Fulbright, Edgeworth, Klavier and Kristoph made visits to a nursery school near the courthouse. Which of them did the most pleasant activity with the children?"

Apollo acted out the story of the “Crying Red Ogre” for the children. Phoenix played the part of the blue ogre, and Apollo was the red ogre, and Apollo’s wailing moved the children to tears too. In a panic over all the crying, they got Trucy to cheer them up with a magic trick in which she made Apollo disappear.

Fulbright: He came dressed in a blinding white costume to teach the children about justice and put on a play. The children gave him thunderous applause... But when Jinxie, who had been forced to play the part of the heroine, saw Fulbright, she thought he was the ghost of an army general, got scared, and slapped a charm on his face.

Edgeworth and Gumshoe: He and Gumshoe were going to reenact the story of Kintarou (an old Japanese fairytale). Franziska handed Edgeworth the Kintarou costume she’d designed (If you've seen Ghibli's Spirited Away, recall what Bou, the giant baby, wears. That's what we're talking about here). Edgeworth fearfully asked “You... expect me to wear this...?” Gumshoe, who had painted his whole body black to play the role of a bear, told him “Of course, sir! It doesn’t fit me!” and shoved Edgeworth out on stage in it. Edgeworth quickly began to reconsider Gumshoe’s salary for next month.

Klavier and Kristoph: Kristoph started giving a boring lecture on the importance of law, and the kids were getting antsy. Seeing this, Klavier came over with his guitar to liven things up, performing a rock style arrangement of the “The Bear Went Over The Mountain". But then he threw in the unnecessary comment of “If any of you scratch the frets of my guitar, I’ll be suing for damage of property, ok?” And they both ended up getting kicked out.

"This survey is about who knows how to enjoy a sunny day at Gourd Lake the best"

Simon: To give Taka some exercise, Blackquill took him and Fulbright (who was on guard duty) out for some falconry. Things were going well until Taka heard something about this mysterious creature “Gourdy,” freaked out, flew into the little shop selling Gourdy merchandise and started making a huge mess. Blackquill and Fulbright gathered Taka up in a panic and hightailed it out of there as fast as they could.

Edgeworth had seen Phoenix home and on his way back passed by Gourd Lake. Just as he was starting to get bad flashbacks... he happened to hear Larry in the middle of a flirting attempt and got dragged in. The woman he was trying to put the moves on was a foreigner, and she and Edgeworth started chatting in her native language. Larry couldn’t understand and was annoyed that Edgeworth was apparently moving in on his target, so he sulked and blew up at Edgeworth.

Athena tried to play matchmaker for Apollo and Juniper, so she told them to meet her in the forest near Gourd Lake so that they would run into each other there and hopefully hit it off. Juniper got there first, expecting to find Athena, but when Apollo showed up, she panicked and hid behind a tree. While she was trying to gather her nerve to go talk to him, he wandered off and she lost sight of him.

Phoenix was at the park and he got caught by Larry who was doing his part time job of selling Samurai Dogs. Larry saw a pretty lady that he wanted to flirt with so he asked Phoenix to mind the shop while he was gone. Business was slow, so he called in all the WAA members to put their full range of skills to use. They seem to have managed to sell them all!

Gumshoe took Missile for a walk in the park. They stopped for a rest and Gumshoe fell asleep, so Missile slipped out of his collar and ran over to where the Samurai Dogs were being sold. He ate them all without Phoenix noticing. Phoenix handed things back over to Larry when he got back and Larry got in huge trouble for losing so much product.

"This survey is talking about how the cast spent their Valentines Day"

Trucy gave Polly chocolate for himself and some for Klavier and asked Apollo to give it to him for her. Klavier wasn’t in court when Apollo went to look for him, though, so he and Phoenix went to the prosecutors’ office together with their chocolate. On their way, though, Apollo found himself getting a lot of strange looks from Themis Legal Academy students.

Ema gave some chocolates to Phoenix to give to Edgeworth because she suddenly got called to a crime scene. Phoenix headed over to the prosecutors’ office but Edgeworth was in court and wasn’t there, so Phoenix waited out in front of the prosecutors’ office with this flashy, girly looking bag of chocolates. Edgeworth’s trial ended up going a long time and Phoenix got a lot of stares as he waited.

Edgeworth was hit by a pollen-filled spring breeze on his way back to the office and suddenly his eyes got all red and itchy and he was left sneezing and sniffling. Phoenix came to talk to him and got quite a surprise when he saw the state Edgeworth’s face was in. The chocolates Ema gave him were in the shape of the Steel Samurai and they made Edgeworth so pleased that it seemed to ease his suffering a little.

Flower Viewing:

Phoenix and Apollo go to the park early to hold flower viewing spots for the WAA members. They see some people from around town that they know who ask them to hold their spots while they go and grab this or that. Phoenix and Apollo do their best to hold those people’s spots and in the process lose their own. They end up begging Edgeworth to let them share his and Klavier’s spot.

White Day:

Because of his painful memories about Valentine’s Day from elementary school, he doesn’t like Valentine’s Day or White Day that much. As a return gift to his beloved daughter, he gave her painstakingly handmade magic panty shaped chocolates. Apparently he forced the ones that didn’t turn out on Edgeworth...

Klavier was holding a ladies only concert, which he invited Trucy to. Phoenix was worried about letting Trucy be out at night by herself, so he sent Apollo along in disguise (as a woman!!). But Klavier saw through Apollo’s disguise easily and to Apollo’s horror, called him up on stage.

Autumn/Moon Viewing:

Phoenix, Edgeworth and Larry went to collect chestnuts together. Larry was too focused on looking for chestnuts and not watching where he was going and fell down the mountain slope. Phoenix had tried to catch Larry but he ended up falling too and spraining his ankle slightly. Edgeworth had to carry Phoenix on his back down the mountain.

Apollo went moon viewing with the rest of the WAA. It turned out into kind of an office party and Apollo had drink after drink while assuring everyone that “I’m fine!” but ended up getting pretty hammered. He proceeded to pass out and Phoenix took care of him.

Obon Festival:

Klavier performed a bonfire festival dance version of the Guitar’s Serenade at the summer festival and Apollo provided the taiko drum backup. He filled the gaps in the taiko drumming with his chords of steel, and it was a very energetic bonfire dance.

Edgeworth noticed the festival going on on his way home from work and decided to have a look. He saw Phoenix selling Samurai Dogs and desperately wanted one, but couldn’t bear the thought of Phoenix finding out that he was a Steel Samurai fan. He hemmed and hawed in front of the festival stall, trying to decide whether to buy one, but they sold out before he could make up his mind.

Phoenix went to the festival with Maya. Larry, who was working the Samurai Dog stand, called them over and forced them to watch the stand while he made a booty call. Phoenix and Maya’s manzai comedy duo style vocal advertising was so successful that they quickly sold out.

Christmas:

Phoenix, Trucy, Athena, Apollo and Pearl all spent the night at the office after their party wrapped up. Phoenix put presents next to the kids' pillows during the night.

Edgeworth grumbled about having to play Santa but dressed up anyway and snuck in at night to bring the younger ones at Phoenix's office some presents. He accidentally ends up sneaking into Phoenix’s room instead.

Apollo wanted to be a good big brother to Trucy and Pearl, so he snuck into their rooms to leave gifts but tripped over something, let out a Chords of Steel volume shout as he fell and ruined the surprise/

Klavier, as a favor to Trucy, snuck in dressed as a Visual Kei style Santa, but he announced his arrival with a rock arrangement of Santa Claus is Coming to Town and got caught and kicked out.

Blackquill had to make a jailbreak in order to play Santa, was chased down and Phoenix woke to find the police surrounding his office.

DGS Edition

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yee-fxcking-haw · 3 years

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•Porcelain Obsession•

Summary: Tamaki has a problem, a bad problem. He's obsessed, he's desperate, and he'll do whatever it takes to have you the way he wants you.

Pairing: Pro Hero Yandere Tamaki Amajiki x Reader (both 18+)

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, noncon voyeurism, mild manipulation and sabotage, mild coercive behavior, male masturbation, panty theft, male ejaculation, cum eating. It's just real graphic, strap in.

A/N: I am hopeless, this will have a second part that will be so much more sinful with gratuitous tentacle content. Just tagged those that interacted with the posted about this fic as usual. This little series was inspire by a tiktok I saw, and I'm literally writing it for the sake of putting one zinger of line in it lol.

Playlist

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJbubhQN/

Word Count: 4,184

Part Two: Love Me Tender

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Stunning, astounding, enchanting. You're an angel, you have to be. That's the only explanation for the way you shine, surrounded by some ethereal glow.

Tamaki Amajiki has a problem. No, it's not a problem, it's completely normal to fall in love, he's under a spell. He can't be blamed for it, he never stood a chance. Although, most people would call this a problem, but only people who don't understand.

An ignorant person would have seen him watching you from around the corner for weeks, following you to your house after work under the cover of darkness, and finally, finally getting a glance into your window at night and label him as obsessed or disturbed. He should have felt dirty for that, but he didn't, not even close. He felt almost holy.

He felt like some chosen follower that was allowed to witness a sacred ritual. He watched you all evening with immeasurable reverence. He took note of the way you ate, how intently you read, but his favorite part was watching you settle into your bed and fall asleep.

As soon as he saw it the first time, it became an addiction. Watching your body curl around your pillow, clutching the fabric as you snuggled into it. How sweet you looked, so soft, so innocent. It made his chest ache, it made him feel starved. He had to have you, smell you, feel you.

That was nearly three months ago. Now, he watches you every chance he gets. The days he doesn't get to, he feels like a pitiful addict going through withdrawal. He has to at least speak with you, know your voice, see your skin up close.

During his patrol around the city he comes to the conclusion that it has to be today. He feels like he's losing breath without knowing you, captured by your existence but suffocated by the distance. He will have you, he will do whatever it takes.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

At your age, you should at least have a friend or two, maybe go out on friday, possibly even work another job. None of that ever seems worth it, not worth the time or the money or the effort to pretend you enjoy it. Here you stay, stuck somewhere in between discontent for your situation and the refusal to do anything about it.

You only have a half hour left of your shift, everyone else has gone home and you’ve been left to do dishes and lock up, as usual. You huff and puff around the shop as you complete the final closing tasks. Anybody else could have stayed and closed, they probably should have too, considering how often you shut down by yourself so they can all go home.

Naturally, you jumped at the opportunity to stay late, where else are you going to go? Certainly not on a date or out with friends. You feel slightly better about making money while you burn the hours away, so you always end up here.

The sun has set already, leaving the illumination of the shop to the awful fluorescent lights that hang from the ceiling. It’s all so mundane, so simple, so dreadfully boring.

Then the bell above the door jingles.

You roll your eyes and throw your rag into the sink, the sign says closed. Why don’t people read? You huff out of the kitchen and into the serving area.

“Hey, sorry but we’re closed right now, we open again tomorrow-” You freeze, it can’t be him, it has to be some cosplayer, some wannabe.

“I’m sorry, I just- my phone died while I was on patrol and I needed to call my boss to let them know I was finished for the day. I was hoping there would be a phone in here that I could use.” His voice is so timid, so unsteady. It doesn’t sound anything like you would imagine the voice of a pro hero to sound.

You try to stay uninvolved with any hero business, all of the flashy quirks and the gossip and the drama. The theater of it bores you to tears, and you lack respect for anyone that uses their ability to save lives as a tool for gaining popularity. You find most heroes to be so incredibly irritating. Most of them, except one.

Suneater, the emerging pro hero that has been the focus of all of your thoughts lately. You've only seen glimpses of him in the news, seen his face on the back page of a magazine, or heard his name from other people. Any evidence of his existence rapidly became precious to you. You are not some hopeless fangirl, you do not collect merchandise or follow him around and beg for autographs.

You admire him, his subtlety, how genuinely different he is from all the other heroes. He isn’t some attention whore, he isn’t some pretty boy that’s always posing for fan service. His quirk is so unique and powerful, unparalleled by any hero on the charts right now. He’s a real hero, and so much of you wanted him to be your hero.

There he stands, right in front of you, in your shop, asking you for help. He’s far more beautiful than you could have possibly anticipated. He’s all porcelain skin and inky hair, deep indigo eyes pear out from under his magnificent hood. He stands so tall, yet comes across so reserved. He’s spectacular, he’s an angel, he has to be.

“Of- of course, it’s in the back, follow me.” You say, motioning for him to come around the corner with you as you tuck back into the kitchen.

“Thank you, this is very kind of you.” He says as he follows, cape swishing behind him as he moves. You don’t know, you can’t possibly know, how badly he wants to take you into his arms and finally know what your body feels like against his, how he wants to bury his face in your hair and inhale your scent. If he could get away with it, he would, oh how he would feel every inch of you. He can’t though, not yet. He has to be careful, he has to be smart.

I will have her, and she’ll have me.

“It’s no problem, it sucks to be stuck without a phone. I’m happy to help.” You say as you round the corner to your shop’s makeshift break room.

It’s not even a room really, just a corner tucked away with a phone on the wall and a few chairs around a cheap foldable table.

You turn to him and motion to the phone awkwardly, heat settling in your chest and all over your skin. Your heart races and you can feel your palms turning wet.

“Take as much time as you need, did you uh- are you hungry?” You ask, “I’m technically closed, but I can only imagine how hungry you are after a whole day patrolling, I could throw something together for you?”

God, you’re so sweet.

“Oh no, you d-don’t need to do that, I can eat at home.” He insists, your mind fixates on the way he stutters, the way his eyes dart down and his feet shift as he talks.

“I would like to. Please? If you’ll let me?” You say softly, heart pounding even faster when he shifts towards you slightly.

How perfect you are, already asking for permission…

“Are you sure, I really don’t want to create more work for you.” He says, eyes flicking up to meet yours. His gaze makes it hard to swallow, he looks at you so intently, you almost feel like you don’t have enough clothing on.

“No! I promise you won’t be. You’d also be missing out on the best takoyaki around if you didn’t let me, and that would be a tragedy.” You say, trying to entice him with your bold claim.

“Well I g-guess, if you put it that way.” He offers you a trace of a smile.

“I’ll get started while you make your call.” You say as you move to squeeze past him in the narrow hall. As you slide by, there’s a brief, precious moment where you stand inches from each other. You don’t dare look up at him as you skate by, You know your legs will fail you if you meet his eyes while standing so close, and you can’t risk the embarrassment of dropping to your knees in front of a stranger, even if he is a hero,

He doesn’t say a word, simple stalks towards the phone as you glide down the rest of the hallway and into the kitchen.

You slip into autopilot in the kitchen, your brain is far too fixated on the fact that Suneater is down the hall, in your shop, using your phone. You clink around some pans, prepare the octopus meat and the batter and get to work. You can’t overhear him talking to anyone with all the noise you’re making, you almost want to apologize for being so noisy.

Your mind settles on thinking about how beautiful he is, how strong he looks, how easily he could overpower anyone… especially you. The thought makes you squeeze your thighs together, it shouldn’t, but holy hell it does.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him come into the kitchen, you immediately start to berate yourself for thinking that way about him. He’s a hero, he would never be interested in something like that with someone like you.

“I think the phone is down, do you maybe have a- a cell phone i could use?” He seems almost ashamed of the question, it makes your chest ache.

“Shit, that line is always being funny. I’m sorry, but I left my cell this morning.” You say, flipping the takoyaki around in their tray so they’ll cook evenly.

“I live just across the street though, I can run and grab it while you eat.” You say, desperate to help him in any way you can.

I know you’re just across the street.

He just shakes his head and bunches his cape in his fists, a very faint blush spreads across his cheeks and it makes your heart do summersaults.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, you’re already doing t-too much for me. You don’t need to make the extra t-trip, I can just call my boss when I’m home”

“Really, it’s not too much, if you’re worried about the extra trip you can just walk me home and use it when we get there. I imagine you would need to call as quickly as possible and get somebody on patrol now that you’re off.” You say, catching yourself a little when you sound too desperate.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable?” As he talks, he shuffles so he can press himself up into the corner of the kitchen, almost looking like he wants to melt into the wall.

“Well, considering your occupation is literally saving people, I definitely don’t feel uncomfortable, it’s not like you’re some crazy kidnapper.” You chuckle a little as you plate up the takoyaki. You try not to give attention to the twisted thoughts that enter your mind when you mention the kidnapping, pushing down the desire to be taken away from the colorless life you live.

If you only knew how badly I want to take you, to have you, keep you…

“I guess you have a p-point.” He says, taking the plate with a soft thank you. He starts stuffing his face with the spheres of breaded octopus immediately, letting a small content sigh leave his body.

“This is incredible, thank you, um, can I ask what your n-name is?” That damn stutter is going to turn your bones to jelly.

You say your name quietly, he responds by repeating it back to you, like he’s checking the pronunciation. You just nod as you open the fridge and pull out a gallon of green tea so you can pour him a glass.

“T-Tamaki, my name’s Tamaki Amajiki.” He says with his shy voice.

A warm, invasive feeling spreads through you. You have to remain calm, pretend that his real name is news to you, pretend that you haven’t spent hours searching through fanfictions listed under that name.

You chat as he finishes his food, thanking him as he mumbles compliments about you cooking in between bites. It doesn’t take long for him to take down the plate. He thanks you over and over as you clean the rest up. He stays glued to his spot in the corner until you take your apron off and hang it on the rack with the others.

“Alright, let’s get you to that phone.” You say as you grab your keys off the hook and switch the lights off.

When you turn to look at him the breath is stolen from your lungs immediately. He looks so celestial in the dark, somehow glowing in the dark. He’s stunning, he’s perfect, he’s painfully out of your league. You remind yourself of that last fact in order to still your nerves.

You turn on your heels and walk towards the door as quickly as you can without seeming rushed. He follows silently, the heavy sound of his thick cloak floating around him makes the hair on your neck stand up. He even sounds powerful.

After you exit the building, he stands with his back to you as you lock the door. His stance is protective, surveying the streets around you like a real hero. You can’t let it go to your head, it’s not for you specifically, he would do this for anyone, it’s his job.

The walk to your house isn’t really uncomfortable, but it is tense. The energy between you is painfully obvious, just not to each other. You both want to speak, ask about each other, know each other, but neither has the guts to make the first move.

While you walk, Tamaki’s head is constantly on a swivel, and he stays so very close to you. It makes your chest ache, the feeling of being so safe next to such an intimidating man. Nobody would dare approach you with him next to you. You would damn near kill to have this all the time, if not all the time at least as often as possible.

You arrive at your house after not even two minutes of tension filled strolling. Silently, cautiously, you both enter your home after you unlock the door.

"It's so cozy." Tamaki says immediately upon seeing all of the soft lights and pastels that make up your decor. He’s nearly trembling with excitement from finally being able to see inside your little world. After watching from the outside for so long, he can finally learn more about you.

"Oh, thanks, I try to keep it soft looking in here. It helps me decompress after a day at a busy restaurant." You explain, setting your keys in their dish before leading him down the hallway to the kitchen.

The house is nothing special, a simple little single bedroom, one story with a relatively open floor plan. It’s small but easy to afford and keep clean. It works for you.

“I’ll go grab the phone from my room, feel free to sit down.” You say, gesturing at the two chairs on either side of your tiny breakfast nook.

He just nods quietly, taking small glances around the rest of your house. You find his hypervigilance charming. It makes you feel incredibly secure to know he’s so aware of his surroundings.

You walk off to your bedroom then, leaving him to stand in your dimly lit kitchen.

Instantly, his eyes zero in on the laundry basket full of clothes that’s sitting on your counter. His body moves without his mind’s permission, his heart thrums in his chest once he catches something pink and lacy.

He can’t help but think you’ve done it on purpose, like you’re some spider sitting up in your web waiting for a poor little bug to stumble along and get all caught up. He’s more than willing to be that bug, and so desperate to get caught up.

He grabs the fabric quickly, as it unravels in his hands he sees what it is and his breathing stops.

It’s a pair of underwear, your underwear.

His fingers go all twitchy as he shoves his hood off to expose his pointed ears, wanting to be able to hear your footsteps.

He brings the panties and takes a deep breath in.

They’re not clean.

He has to choke back the noise that threatens to escape when he finally smells the intoxicating aroma. You smell so fucking sweet. His body reacts instantaneously, goosebumps raise on his flesh as he’s dick twitches in his pants.

God he feels dirty, but why should he? You lead him in here, after cooking for him and being so kind. You left this little gift out for him, you had to know what you were doing.

The sound of soft footsteps jolts him back to reality. He shoves the underwear deep into one of his pockets, he’ll keep them as long as he can, preferably forever.

“Sorry it took me a minute, I’m constantly misplacing everything. One of those ‘lose my head if it wasn’t attached to me’ kind of people.” You give a half hearted laugh, which he returns with a cute little chuckle as he takes your phone.

“Oh sorry about the laundry, I’m a bit of a mess today.” Hot embarrassment fills you as you grab the basket of dirty clothes off the counter and hoist it onto your hip.

“Don’t be sorry, you weren’t expecting any visitors.” He assures you, voice soft and soothing.

“I’ll run this to my room and give you some privacy.” You say, turning once again to leave him alone.

As soon as you’re out of the room his shoulders drop and he lets out a quaking breath. Having you so close after filling his mind with your smell pushed him to the very limit. He wants to grab you and lay you out on the counter, rip your pants off and shove his face between your thighs. He wants to drown in every smell and taste you can offer him. He wants to gorge himself on your sweet little cunt.

He can’t think straight. He’s fully hard, his skin is boiling and his mind is fuzzy. He has to get out of here, he has to get to somewhere hidden, Somewhere he can fuck his fist and think of playing with your soft body. Maybe, just maybe, if he stuffs your panties in his mouth he can taste a trace of you.

When you return he says a very quick goodbye, says something about stopping by your shop again so he can see you again. He doesn’t know for sure what words he uses, he’s too focused on getting out before you notice his erection, before you smell the shame wafting off of him in thick waves.

He has to go before he makes a mistake, before he ruins all of his plans.

You follow him to the door to let him out, bidding him goodnight with your gentle, enchanting voice.

You’ll never know that the phone at the restaurant worked fine, that he never even had to call Fatgum. You’ll never know that he stole from you, that he almost lost it and took you home with him. You won’t ever know that he’s not going home now that he’s left your home.

Urgently, he swoops around the corner of your house, heading straight for your bedroom window. His pants feel so tight it’s maddening, he’s frantic, he’s slipping.

As soon as he reaches the bedroom window, his favorite window, he slumps against the building with one arm as the other shoots down to his pants. He takes a quick glance around, noting that the lights in the surrounding buildings are all out given the hour.

He should be safe.

Then you walk into your room, the image of you is distorted slightly by the white sheers you have up, but only slightly, only enough to make you look like some fuzzy apparition.

She uses these curtains on purpose, she wants me to see.

You have no interest in showering tonight, now exhausted and confused. Did you say something wrong? Why did he take off like that? He did say he would see you tomorrow, though, which gives you a bubbly feeling.

You strip your clothes off, and it shreds Tamaki’s last ounce of self control.

You little fucking tease.

You undress until you’re left in your simple white underwear.

Tamaki’s hand is in his pants the second you crawl into bed. He grabs his aching length, thumbing at his head as he watches you shuffle around in the blankets. His mouth waters when he sees your collar bones, his breath hitches when he sees the way your stomach rolls when you sit. He starts to stroke himself slowly when you leave one leg out of your blankets.

His chest rises and falls rapidly as he remembers the precious gift in his pocket.

He snatches the panties out as he watches you move, as he zeroes in on the meat of your thigh. He shoves the fabric of the crotch into his mouth and bites. He bites your panties like he wants to bite your delicious looking legs.

His hand jerks more rapidly as the faintest flavor spreads across his tongue. His cheeks are pink and his eyes start to tear up as he trembles from the euphoria of knowing you this intimately. His hips thrust into his fist as he claws at the panites, pulling the fabric tight as he watches you drift off to sleep.

His mind races through every possible way he would take you. How he would ruin and claim every inch of you. The idea of you shaking beneath him, moaning his name so sweetly, begging him to keep going, maybe begging him to stop, it makes him want to break down the window.

He tongues at your panties, wishing he could swallow your slick. He feels so unbelievably envious of the fact that the fabric in his mouth has been so close to your perfect little hole. The thing he wants to taste the most, feel the most, fuck the most.

His hand tightens around his dick as he tries to imagine how tight you would feel around him. He rips your panties out for just a brief second so he can spit down into his palm, wrapping it around his cock the second the spit reaches his skin.

“Shit- fuck- shit- fucking love you.” He chokes out as his eyes stay locked on your body.

Once the panties are back in his mouth, the free hand flattens against the window.

Then you shift, hips rolling gently as you adjust your position, exposing your cute little ass to him.

“Slut- bad little slut.” He huffs out as he claws at the window. He feels his balls start to seize up as he focuses on his swollen head, fucking it as fast as he can whle he imagines you with your head buried in the pillows as you stick your ass in the air for him.

He tears the panties out of his mouth and holds the crotch of them in front of his dick, drool slips over his bottom lip as he lets out a high, broken moan while he starts to spill into them.

His body quakes and shivers as he squirts rope after rope of hot cum into his stolen prize. Tears wet his cheeks while drool soaks his chin as he strokes himself through his climax.

He chants your name over and over again, watching the way his seed ruins your pretty little panties. In his orgasmic haze, he brings the panties back to his mouth full of his own release, he laps it up as he eyes roll to the back of his head, pretending he’s made you cream yourself, pretending he’s tasting you instead.

It’s filthy, it’s depraved, but he doesn’t care, he needs it, he’d die without it. He swallows the rest of his own cum down with a greedy whine as he watches your perfect form lay there so peacefully.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, how many more times he fucks his hand while he watches you sleep, only to leave himself covered in sweat and cum and shame. Somehow, he finds himself walking away, as much as it hurts, he knows he can't indulge himself all night.

Once he’s finally home, he collapses, body buzzing and addicted. He sleeps with your soiled panties clutched in his fist. He wakes up with one thought on his mind, he needs more.

#tamaki amajiki #tamaki smut #amajiki tamaki #mha smut #my hero smut #suneater #suneater smut #mha suneater #my hero academia smut #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #bnha suneater #tamaki x reader #tamaki headcanons #mha tamaki #tentacles #big three #fatgum

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whatiwouldgive · 3 years

Text

The Price I Paid For Cheating on My Master

-This is a fictional story dedicated to AlphaDom_Master-

I couldn’t help if is a was curious by nature. My Master had already claimed me, but I continued to troll the findom websites looking for more. Nothing made me more excited than when a Dom messaged me and started to work me over. Every Dom is unique, and I wanted to know how every one of them would treat me and to learn what they do with their subs. I was just starting to explore my submissive side, so who could blame me right? It was all just a game after all, right?

Anyway, I started becoming addicted to it. I was spending all my money on tributes and gifts for Doms. Before I knew it, I was racking up quite a credit card debt. I just couldn’t believe these hot, straight, alpha guys were actually paying attention me… a total fag who, for my entire life, always had crushes on straight guys, jocks and bullies. There was something so freeing to give in and explore my submissive side. In the real world, I kept that side hidden, and wouldn’t ever dare to share what I shared what I shared with them. It was such a liberating feeling.

One day I was talking to my Master on Skype, and he asked if I was up for an in-person meeting. Hell, yes I was! I had never done a live, in-person session before and I was extremely eager. He said he felt like using me for the weekend. I felt like the luckiest fag in the world.

When I showed up at his door, I heard him yell, “Get in here hole, the door is open.” He, apparently was in the other room rummaging through a drawer for something. “Take off all your clothes and put them in the kitchen garbage.” This was going to be fun! I was always smitten with how strict he was.

When he came into the room, I was struck deaf, dumb and blind. He was much taller than I thought, and his presence was much more intimidating in person. He looked angry… SMACK! He back handed me across the face. I put my hand to my cheek in shock. And then… SMACK! He hit me again on the other cheek. He grabbed me by the neck and slammed me against the wall. He hocked a giant loogie in my face and stared into my eyes as if he were reading my thoughts. Suddenly, I wasn’t having fun anymore . In fact I was completely terrified of him.

“You are a pathetic excuse for a slave you piece of shit. You’ve been paying other Doms tributes haven’t you?” With a weak wheeze I admitted, “Yes Sir. I’m Sorry Sir. Please don’t hurt me.”

He kneed me in the balls and I fell to the ground in ball at his feet. He used his foot to push on my shoulder and roll me onto my back and then stepped on my exposed dick crushing it under his weight. He was wearing the really expensive Nike sneakers I had bought for him as a tribute. I impulsively grabbed his foot to try and relieve some of the pressure. He started twisting his foot, and said, “Get your slutty hands off me faggot. You are naked because I want access to every part of your inferior weak body. And, you will learn to take whatever I do to you” I obeyed and he stopped twisting. “This weekend you will know what true punishment feels like you cheating whore.” He spit in my face again. “Sir. I didn’t know that I couldn’t…” He started stomping on my aching dick with each word he yelled.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU STUPID COCKSUCKER!” Tears of pain and fear were pouring from my eyes. “How dare you beg me to take you as my slave and then go off and whore yourself to every Dom that looks at you… tributing my money to another Dom! You clearly weren’t sincere when you agreed to be my property. I don’t like liars, and I don’t share my things.” He took a moment to pause and take a deep breath to calm himself.

“You are very lucky I am a patient man (yeah right, I thought to myself). I’ve decided that I will keep you, but you are going to take your punishment, and we will start your training from the beginning fag whore. It will be very difficult and very painful, but I’m offering you the experience of real servitude. It is the opportunity of lifetime for a fag like you to experience the natural order. Right now, it’s your choice. But if you agree, you will have no choice anymore. At one time, this is what you begged me for, so tell me faggot… Is this what you really and truly want? Are you willing to forsake all others and devote yourself to my pleasure?”

I was laying there in pain with this majorly pissed off alpha Dom’s foot on my dick. I was suffering, I couldn’t deny my true nature. It is what I truly desired. This might be my only opportunity to truly experience being totally and completely dominated by a hot, straight alpha male of this caliber. Could I tell him no? He utterly terrified me, but he was offering the chance to live a fantasy I had dreamed of my whole life. I finally just surrendered with shame in my voice, “Yes Sir.”

He removed his foot and dropped something heavy onto the floor beside my head. I looked over and saw a chastity cage. “Put it on bitch. Now that I know what a horny slut you are, I’m taking your worthless fag dick away. Fags shouldn’t have dicks anyway.”

On one hand, I had always wanted to try cum control. But this Dom had turned out to be one twisted fucker. If I put that on, who knows when, or if, he would let me out. “Sir… I promise I won’t cum. Please don’t make me wear it.”

I was expecting to get another beating, but he just stood over me looking down with a cold, sadistic look in his eyes. “Well, I could cut it off, but I thought this might be less messy.” I immediately grabbed the cage and put it on. He opened his cell phone, pressed a button, and the lock activated.

“Now we’re going for a little walk. Get your pants, t-shirt and wallet out of the garbage.” Once we were outside, he turned his pocked inside out. He told me to hold onto it while we walk so everyone would know I was his fag bitch. We walked for a couple blocks until turning into a dark alley. He lead me to an old ATM covered in graffiti. “It’s time for you put out, cunt. Open your account and lets stretch that pussy.” I said, “Yes Sir”, inserted my check card and my banking information appeared on the screen. He seemed pleased. “Good cashfag.”

“Let see what draining 200 dollars feels like.” I withdrew the money and handed it to him. He put the money up to his nose and inhaled the scent. “Yeah homo, your fag cash smells so good.” Then he slapped me across the face. “Now 300.” I gave him the money, and could tell he was almost aroused with pleasure, but I got another slap in the face. “Damn, your pussy is hot tonight. 400!” I helplessly watched as the money drained from my account. I handed it over and got back another slap. “That’s right slut. I like it rough. And now my cash rod is deep in that pussy, and I’m going to finish you off with 500 dollars.” I handed over the cash. He was enjoying the weight of it in his hands. “Oh yeah fag, that feels so good.” And then he slapped my face 2 more time. “Why hell aren’t you thanking me slut? I just drained you good.”

“Thank you Sir. Thank you for stretching my pussy out and draining my fag cash Sir.” Then he punched me in the gut, dropping me to the ground. “That’s right hole. I think you’ve earned a reward.” He pulled out his alpha cock and started to piss all over me. He made sure I was completely drenched. “I’m marking you with my scent fag. Why the fuck aren’t you thanking me?”

“I’m sorry Sir. Thank you for pissing on me and marking me as your property Sir.”

“You need to be more respectful fag. I’m going to have to train you better.”

On the way back to his house, we stopped in front of a market so he could pick up some food. “Give me your credit card and sit fag. You can’t come in here with me. And don’t even think about running off, because that cage has GPS.”

When we got back to his house, I put my clothes back in the garbage and plated his meal while he picked out something to watch on TV. He made me get on hands and knees and then placed his plate on my back to eat. I was in a lot of pain, so I was struggling so hard to remain still that I was sweating. I just lowered my head and stared at his Nikes trying to focus. “You hungry fag?” “Yes Sir. May I please eat?” He scooped up the remaining food from his plate and shoved it into his mouth, starting chewing and then spit it out on the floor in front of me. Then he hocked a loogie into it. After I cleared his plate, I returned to the floor to eat, but right as I was leaning in, he stomped it with his Nikes and ground into an even bigger mess. He slipped off his sneakers and said, “Now that looks like faggot food to me.” After I thanked him, he recorded me licking my dinner from the floor and his shoes so he could post it online.

“Now let’s wash that down. I have to take a piss. And, you have been such a good hole in your training, I’ve decided to promote you to toilet. Congratulations fuck face. When you are here serving me, the only thing you may drink is my piss.”

“Thank you Sir. I am so honored to be your toilet Sir.” I got in position on my knees and opened my mouth. He positioned the head of his cock between my lips, and I got a whiff of his crotch. It smelled so fucking good, my dick started straining in my cage. I wanted to service that alpha cock so bad, I immediately started leaking. And then he released a torrent of piss directly into my face hole. It was coming so fast, I had to continuously chug without even pausing for a breath, so I wouldn’t spill any. It just coming and coming. He started to laugh while he watched me struggling to keep up. “Pathetic fag. You are getting off on this aren’t you? You like drinking a real man’s piss don’t you? I’m going to use you as a toilet every chance I get homo. And when my friends come over, you are going to drink their piss too. You are officially a human urinal now, and you are constantly going to have me and other real men pissing in you. You won’t ever be thirsty again.” And as his stream began to slow, he spit in my face. My stomach was so full of his piss, it felt bloated by the time he finished.

“Now I am going to meet some friends at the bar, so what should I do with you?” I laid on the floor while he gathered some things. I actually felt a little relieved that I was going get a break for a little while. It was fine if he tied me up. At least I would get some rest. “OK fag. On your back. Elbows bent, hands on your shoulders. Knees bent, heels to your ass.” I assumed the position as he pulled out some heavy duty plastic wrap. He wrapped it tightly around my arms and legs securing them in place. It was very effective. He had basically cut me off at the elbow and knees. “Now this should keep you busy.” He showed me a long plastic, beaded urethral sound. “Please no Sir! Please don’t put that in me! I promise I’ll be a good fag. I won’t make a sound. I’ll just lay here and think about everything I can do to please you…” He quickly removed his dirty socks and shoved them in my mouth to gag me. “You haven’t earned my trust back faggot. So this is what you get for being a cheating whore” He slid the sound through the opening of my cage, and pushed it into my piss slit. My scream was muffled by his socks, and I began to thrust around trying to get away. I felt his hand grip my balls. “Stop moving or this is going to get way more painful fag.” And then he continued to slowly work the sound into my dick.

I had never felt so violated. The sensation was totally new to me. I continued to scream and cry into his socks. I thought it couldn’t get any worse, until he pressed a button at the end of the sound and it began to vibrate. I started squirming around like a worm again. But, he wasn’t done yet. He shoved a big butt plug into my fag pussy and it started vibrating too. “And now for the final touch to make sure you think about me and only me while I’m away.” He picked up his dirty sneaker, shoved my face deep inside and secured it using the plastic wrap. He took some pics and a short video to post online, and then just stood and watched me for a minute so he could enjoy the sound of my muffled screams and watch me thrusting and wiggling around on the floor in agony. “Don’t worry fag I’ll be back… eventually, and then I will beat you.” He left me there, suffering, to go have fun with his friends.

I didn’t know what was worse – the pain or the pleasure. My cock was straining against the cage with no hope of release. And ,as my saliva saturated his socks, I tasted his feet more and more mixing with the taste of his piss. I had to breath through my nose, so every breath meant another giant whiff off his feet. After almost an hour of struggling, I finally exhausted myself completely. I was mad with lust, frustration and pain, and all I could do is lay there and suffer until he returned. I had know idea when that would be. He had mind-fucked me so hard, all I could thing was, “I hope he’s having a good time at the bar.” You better believe I would never cheat on him again after that.

-The End

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bard-llama · 3 years

Text

The Taint of the Common Man (Meve/Reynard/Gascon)

Okay, so I finally tried to play Thronebreaker again and it turned out that my comptuer/steam/whatever had actually kept my save!!! So I didn’t have to start over, which was good, because the beginning was kinda boring, which is why it took me so long to continue. But it’s also kinda bad, because now I do not remember anything about Gascon’s introduction beyond “they fought, Meve won and threatened to hang him next time”. Which like... I could probably make it work, but knowing the details seems important for writing Meve’s feelings and reactions to Gascon.

Anyway, this is a continuation of the thoughts that this lovely post inspired, and because I’m me, those thoughts grew a plot. Both the link and the rest of the story involve a VERY dubcon/noncon premise, so please engage only if you can. Also, spoilers for Chapter 1 of Thronebreaker (aka major plot things that happen once you reach Lyria’s capital).

Okay, once again: HUGE WARNING for Dubcon/Noncon stuff. Like, it’s how the story starts and it’s gonna be something dealt with through the whole story. My idea is basically a story that starts with Meve losing EVERYTHING, and then, through her quest to reclaim her throne, she learns how to be a better queen to ALL of her people, not just the noblemen. End game is intended to be Meve/Reynard/Gascon, but tbh, idk how they get there. Like, at first, Meve and Reynard hate Gascon A LOT, so they have to learn to love him and that takes time.

I’m kinda still learning about these characters as I think this through, so apologies if you find them ooc or if I contradict canon (without meaning to. Sometimes i do it gladly lol)

So we start with Meve returning to the Lyrian castle, only to find that her son and the Council of Peers (read: ruling council that advises the monarch and consists entirely of peerage aka nobility) have betrayed her and surrendered to Nilfgaard. She’s thrown in a dungeon and though her son orders that she is not to be harmed, she knows enough about reality to know they’d never let her live.

She’s on guard, waiting for the guards to come and kill her - only when footsteps approach, it’s not the guards at all, but the fucking Duke of Dogs, the leader of the Strays of Spalla, a gang of bandits that plague merchant caravans and noblemen alike. Gascon, the proclaimed Duke of Dogs, opens the cell door and steps in and tells Meve that he’s freeing her, because the Council of Peers used him and his men and he can’t abide betrayal. But there’s one condition - Meve has to ask him, all nice and polite-like.

Meve, of course, refuses, because she’s nothing if not prideful. So Gascon closes the cell door and leans back against it and says something like, “guess we won’t be leaving, then. Unless, of course, you’d prefer to do something else on your knees,” or some sort of implication like that that makes it clear he’s suggesting that she blow him in exchange for release. And Meve is furious and her pride cuts at her, but dammit, she has no hope of freeing Lyria from Nilfgaard’s grasp while stuck in here. So she goes to her knees. And Gascon is surprised - from his view, she could’ve just begged him??? - but like... the QUEEN is on her KNEES for HIM, a (decidedly un)common bandit who she’d threatened to hang not a week prior.

Also, I think there’s also a part of Gascon that blames Meve for the massacre of his family. According to the wiki, the year before King Reginald (Meve’s husband) died, Gascon’s family revolted against the king and were soundly squashed, with Gascon at a mere 8 years old the only one to survive. From there, he fell in with the Strays of Spalla and eventually became their leader. Remember this bit, ‘cause I’m definitely gonna come back to it. But anyway, Gascon doesn’t like Meve. He’s doing this because it’s the right thing to do and a little because having the queen indebted to him feels awfully good. Also, Meve is good with her mouth.

So good, in fact, that she drives him crazy, taking him to the edge and teasing him and teasing him and teasing him until his legs are shaking and the cell door is all that’s holding him up. I don’t think he actually begs, because his men are around the cell watching this, but he has to bite his lip hard to keep from doing so.

For Meve, there are many complicated feelings happening. On the one hand, this is humiliating and degrading and it’s shameful that she’s fallen so far as to be forced to service a fucking bandit and even worse that his men are SEEING this happen.

On the other hand... look, Meve was widowed 8 years ago. Somewhere in there (or before?), she comes to love and trust Reynard - who her husband, upon his deathbed, told her that he alone could be trusted. But she hasn’t made a move, because it wouldn’t be appropriate and she doesn’t want to ruin things between them.

Point is, it’s been 8 years since she’s had sex and she has had cause to desire some sex. Queens can probably get amazing sex toys, but like, an actual cock? it’s been AGES since she’s been able to play with one and she kind of missed it.

Additionally, in an effort to combat her shame and humiliation, she decides to flip the script on them. Gascon wants her to blow him? Fine, she’ll blow him so well that he utterly falls apart. And maybe she’s a little of practice, but Gascon is young anyway, he probably doesn’t even know better lmao. (But later, she’s oddly grateful that she had this chance for ‘practice’ before it actually mattered)

Eventually, she lets Gascon come - or maybe he uses his grip on her hair to pull her onto him? (She may decide to make it a good blowjob, but that doesn’t mean he’s earned deepthroating) - and the Strays, who have gone from hooting and hollering over the queen’s humiliation to flushed and aroused at the skillful way she destroyed their boss, let them out of the cell.

Next, they go to the city jail to release Reynard, who was arrested as soon as the coup happened because everyone knows that Reynard’s loyalty to the crown is absolute. Reynard is sitting against the wall and he smiles brightly at the sight of her, so Meve strides into the cell to unshackle him. So of course Gascon, who now stands in front of the door once more, suggests something like, “such faithful loyalty deserves ample reward, does it not?”

And Meve is conflicted. Because AGAIN, the Strays of Spalla are watching them and Gascon is trying elicit sexual favours from her. But also, it’s Reynard. She’s wondered for so long what Reynard’s cock would be like and how he would treat her. And, she justifies to herself, she was already forced to give a piece of filth like Gascon a blowjob. Reynard most certainly deserved better.

So she orders him to stand and goes to her knees and is almost eager to get him in her mouth. And Reynard is caught entirely off guard here, because he was ready to skewer Gascon for the mere suggestion, and then she’s ACTUALLY DOING IT!!! And it’s not like she’s alone in having thought about it, but he always assumed that he would be the one on his knees. So for her to do so... he’s awed and a little horrified that he is party to degrading his queen in this way. And also aroused. REALLY fucking aroused, because Meve is on her knees for him! And unlike Gascon, he has earned deepthroating. Fortunately, he’s already leaning against the wall, so he doesn’t collapse.

If Gascon hadn’t had the most intense orgasm of his life like 10 minutes previously, he’d definitely try to see if he could join in, even though they really don’t have the time for that sort of thing. But suffice it to say, Gascon remembers each and every moment Meve spent on her knees vividly.

Reynard comes (and Gascon is reluctantly pleased to have a companion in the wait-you-want-me-to-fight-after-how-hard-I-came!? club) and they all leave the dungeons - and get found by a patrol of guards. They have to fight their way out and Meve thinks Gascon managed to slip away - right up until he comes to their aid with his whole crew. With Gascon’s help, their motley crew flees the capital of Lyria (largely by traveling thru the sewers).

That night, they set up camp somewhere and instead of the royal supplies she’s used to, all they have is whatever the Strays of Spalla had, which means stolen and/or threadbare, ‘cause they’re not exactly living the high life. And Meve knows she should get some rest, but she can’t stop thinking about what happened in the prison(s) and she decides that, as long as Reynard was willing, why shouldn’t she pursue the man she loved?

So she goes to the mess tent and it’s predictably full of drunken soldiers - well, drunken warriors. This rabble didn’t deserve to be called soldiers - and clusters of people playing dice and cards. She spots Reynard at one of the card tables - but sitting across from him is none other than the motherfucking Duke of Dogs. Half-formed plans to kiss Reynard drown under the flood of fury she feels and she summons Reynard to her, ignoring Gascon, who definitely tries to flirt with her. At this moment, she has VERY conflicted feelings about Gascon and most of them are negative. But also, they need him. She is very much aware that his men are the only reason she has any chance at all of taking back her home.

Anyway, Meve confronts Reynard, who explains that he doesn’t trust Gascon as far as he can throw him and whatever mischief Gascon is up to, whatever he thinks he can gain from helping them, Reynard is ready for the doublecross. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer is very much his philosophy, compounded by the way he has learned not to reveal - well, much at all. People probably find him very... is softspoken the word? Not like he speaks soft, but like, he doesn’t say a lot. He learned to keep his mouth shut after he managed to survive insulting the king, so he plays things pretty close to his chest and people find it hard to guess what he’s thinking.

Gascon, for his part, is helping Meve because it’s the right thing to do (and a little because again, queen indebted to you? Very handy). He’s probably aware that Reynard doesn’t like him, even if Reynard acts friendly enough? Like, literally Reynard is so loyal to Meve that he was imprisoned and she was sure of his fealty. And Gascon has found ways to rationalize what he did i.e. raping Meve - she could’ve just begged! She had a choice! - but even though Reynard got a blowjob out of it, I’m sure Gascon would assume that Reynard would want him dead for the blowjob that he got.

I don’t precisely know what Reynard and Gascon’s relationship is like during this, tbh. I think it’ll be Meve’s POV, so she may have a limited view, but I think it’s definitely complicated. Made worse, of course, by both Meve and Reynard beginning to see the redeeming qualities in Gascon. But that comes later.

For now, Meve accepts Reynard’s explanation and knowing that he would do anything to protect her soothes some of the ruffled feathers from a very trying day. So she decides to subtly ask him something like, “come to my tent?” that like, isn’t blatant ‘cause they’re surrounded by drunk men, but also is pretty clear. And Reynard’s eyes widen and it hurts so much to do, but he tells her no. She’s had an intense fucking day - betrayed by her son and court, imprisoned, forced to give multiple blowjobs and work with lowly bandits and shit. Like, she’s been through a lot and he knows that she’s not able to be in her right mind. So he says no, part of him hoping that if she actually means it, she’ll try again in the morning.

But what Meve hears is no, not interested. Which makes this the third time today that she gets to be humiliated in front of the fucking Strays of Spalla, because not only is the man she loves rejecting her, but like... is he rejecting her because she’s tainted now? How is she supposed to interpret him enjoying a blowjob from her one hour and rejecting her advances the next?

And the taint... I think that’ll be a theme in this fic (thus the title). Like, at the height of her power before the fall, Meve was “pure” - which in this case means firmly assured that she was right in everything, as she was always destined to be. There’s no questioning of the world order or if she’s qualified to lead. She simply knows that she is.

But now she’s been betrayed, her nobility and her title ripped from her grasp. And not only that, but she’s demeaned herself with a common thug! She even says it in the game - “look how far we’ve fallen, to be surrounded by peasants and deserters and bandits”. For her, this entire situation is almost like “being common” is reaching for her, trying to pull her in, and she wants to resist, because she’s always been taught that the nobles are BETTER than the common people. But as she works with her army of thugs and commoners, she starts to learn that poor people are people too (gee, who’da thunk it?)

That journey takes time, though, and we’re barely at the start of it!

So, Meve gets rejected. She’s hurt and humiliated and at the moment doesn’t have a kind word for ANYBODY. She maybe cries herself to sleep and hates herself for being weak.

Then morning comes and she has her regular strategy meeting with Reynard, as she did every morning. And it’s awkward and Reynard is as silent as usual, always so deliberate about every word that leaves his mouth. And she wants to ask, but yesterday’s humiliation was enough. She can’t repeat it.

So even though they SHOULD’VE gotten together, they fail to, because Meve is stubborn and prideful and Reynard is closelipped and proper. And Meve kind of hates even the sight of Gascon, but since he IS the leader of the army that is currently only at her disposal because of him, she invites him to join the strategy meetings every morning. If Gascon helps provide a buffer between her and Reynard, so much the better.

Okay, I don’t actually know how everyone ACTUALLY gets together, BUT as they travel through the countryside of Lyria towards the Aedirnian border, a couple of important things happen.

1) Meve sees the real conditions of the people living in her realm. Even in areas that the lords had reported prosperous, people were starving and dying. She starts to learn that these are her people too.

2) Meve and Reynard get to know Gascon. Not just over their strategy meetings, but as they observe him and the Strays of Spalla they (Meve especially) begin to realize that their judgements were all wrong. Because yes, the Strays of Spalla are bandits. They steal from wealthy merchants and even wealthier nobles. That had always been enough to know before.

But now they come to know that that stolen food and blankets and supplies and coin went to the starving peasants in these lands. Hell, most of the Strays are from these areas. These are their people, even if Meve hasn’t figured out that they’re hers too.

Anyway, idk how they get together or how the story ends - is it with them getting together? Getting to Vengerberg to ask for help to reclaim their home? Ousting Villem and taking Lyria back? idk, I haven’t even gotten that far in the game yet lol.

So yeah, here’s a very long synopsis of a story that manages to have almost no porn and lots of angst, despite being inspired by a purely porny post lmao.

#meve x reynard #meve x reynard x gascon #thronebreaker #the witcher #fic planning #dubcon

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mmvalentine · 3 years

Note

Will you do an Acotar scene lift from Rhys’s perspective under the mountain in between the trials? We only get vague mentions of what happens because of the wine Freyre and I think it would just be really interesting to see Rhys’s perspective. I love your writing btw it always makes me smile to see you’ve posted something ❤️

My darling let me tell you I really struggled with this, because these scenes hurt me a lot. Re-reading the scenes, it seems like Feyre spends the whole time really sick and wondering what happened while she was drugged and practically dissociating. BUT, I persist because I know you've been following for a while, and I so appreciate your support and wanted to make you something. I hope this is okay, it's not exactly the steamy stuff I usually write but it's my interpretation of what was going on (and let's be honest, my way of making sense of why Rhys was making not the best decisions).

In Between

Feyre was in danger. Again.

Aramantha's guards were dogs, and I wasn't surprised by this, but it was exhausting. Every time I turned my back there was something they were up to- taunting Feyre, giving her impossible tasks, threatening to torture her. As if being locked in a cell Under The Mountain wasn't bad enough.

I wasn't too proud to admit that I had become quite attached to the little human slip of a thing. She was so small, so fragile, so mortal. And yet here she was, a thorn in Aramantha's side the way that I... I couldn't be. Not if I wanted her eyes far away from Velaris.

So there I was, living vicariously through a human girl and secretly rooting for her like it's the only way I can defy Aramantha. I suppose it is.

For the last few nights, I'd taken to walking past the cell block to listen in on the guards. Nothing too alarming was happening for the first couple of days, but now that the next task was nearing, they had new orders. I was torn between exasperation that Feyre seemed to constantly be in peril, and a spark of interest. If Aramantha was trying to get Feyre killed between tasks, it meant some part of her was truly afraid she'd win. And I liked the idea of Aramantha afraid.

But the immediate situation on hand was that the guards were going to make her remove the salt from a high fae's bathwater, or else they'd pull the teeth out of her head.

For Cauldron's sake.

I would have thought it better for Feyre to sit quietly in her cell and be forgotten. At least she'd get a moment's peace between Aramantha's tasks. But in fact it seemed that Aramantha did not mean her to make it to the next task, and no one was watching her schemes.

So.

I'd have to keep an eye on her myself.

But how to do so, when I was also expected at Aramantha's revels every night? I'd just have to bring her with me.

If Under the Mountain was modeled after the Court of Nightmares, then at least I knew the rules of the game. I knew how to make people notice her.

And so the next night, before the guards could get to her again, I sent in spies to make sure she was going to be fit for a Nightmare revel. They brought clothes- but they were barely clothes. She'd be ripped apart in seconds with that much bare skin. Think, think.

There was one other way to cover skin. In the Illyrian tradition, with ink. I was sure enough of my reputation with the court that no one would risk touching her I was sure to find out. Okay. So Cerridwen and Nuala would paint her every bare patch of skin, and then no one could touch her.

The night of the revel arrived, and when I went to collect Feyre, she was trying to tear off her dress. Alarm flashed through me. Fool that I am, I hadn't considered the fact that of course she would loathe this role. Humans have such a low tolerance for wickedness.

"I wouldn't do that," I said from the doorway. Not willing to risk coming any closer, and scaring her into a panic.

"Our bargain hasn't started yet," she snapped. Hate flashed in her eyes, and I thought- good. She should hate me. I was Aramantha's whore, right? Fine. Better angry than scared. Better angry than vulnerable.

"Ah, but I need an escort for the party," I told her. Besides, I needed her haughty for the revel. Anything less, and they'd lose interest. "And when I thought of you squatting in that cell all night, alone..." Her eyes glazed hard, and her lips thinned. Perfect. "You look just as I hoped you would."

"Is this necessary?" she hisses at me, gesturing to the paint and silk ensemble.

"Of course," I say, letting cold soak into my voice. "How else would I know if anyone touches you?" To demonstrate, I ran a finger through the paint on her shoulder, and watched the paint fix itself. "The dress won't mar it, and neither will your movements," I told her. She needs to understand. "And I'll remember precisely where my hands have been. But if anyone else touches you- let's say a certain High Lord who enjoys springtime- I'll know."

But this was a serious point. I knew she'd want to go straight to him- Cauldron knows why, Tamlin is an insufferable pup- but I knew what she want. And I knew Tamlin had not a scrap of wit about him and would give it to her. And then Aramantha would tear us all to shreds. So.

I flicked her little upturned nose, noticing suddenly the smattering of freckles there and nearly getting distracted, and fed her the line I knew would stick. "I don't like my belongings tampered with."

If looks could kill, as they say in the Human realm.

"Come," I said. "We're already late."

Of course, that was entirely intentional. I needed all eyes on us- on her as we walked in the room. And indeed every head turned, some bowed but most just gawked at Feyre. We walked al the way to the dais, and stood before Aramantha. And Tamlin.

I'd once told Feyre that I'd wait to tell Tamlin about our little bargain. Wait until the right time. No point in exciting him into a rage while everything hung in the balance, I thought. Then again, if it were my beloved in Aramantha's cells... rage would not be an adequate word. But that was another reason I thought very little of the High Lord of Spring. Maybe a little rage would do him some good.

"Merry Midsummer," I said, bowing to Aramantha. Every time I did it, I wanted to vomit on her feet.

"What have you done with my captive?" she said, displeasure darkening in her eyes. Her tone was light, though, and I knew she'd not make a fuss in front of all these people.

"We made a bargain," I said. "One week with me at the Night Court every month in exchange for my healing services after her first task." I raised her arm to reveal the tattoo, dull next to the shining paint. "For the rest of her life."

I couldn't help it. I stared straight at Aramantha, and knew she understood my words. You tried to have her killed and I helped her. I see life beyond this mountain. I think she's going to win. It was only the thought of my family back home that prevented me from spitting the words in her face.

"Enjoy my party," was her only reply. And Tamlin? Tamlin did nothing. Didn't stir, just gripped the arms of the throne like the useless fuck he was.

I led Feyre away, and wondered if she was going to make it through the night. There was a lot of performing to be done, by both of us, if I was going to keep her out of the cells and away from the guards until the next task. Then my eyes lighted on the feasting table.

"Wine?" I offered Feyre a goblet. The perfect solution- if she drank the wine, she wouldn't have to act. Even more merciful- she wouldn't have to remember. But she shook her head.

I smiled, knowing that it did not make up for the cruel games I'd be playing this whole time. Knowing it'd do little to comfort her. "Drink. You'll need it." As much of the truth as I could tell her. Drink, I begged, kneeling at the doors of her mind.

"No," she said, and I gritted my teeth. Pushed against those doors, the flimsy shields that were far too easy to step through. I'm sorry, Feyre. I'm so sorry.

"Drink," I said, and her fingers latched onto the goblet.

As soon as the wine was gone, Feyre's body went loose. I caught her up in my arms, and her eyes were vacant. It horrified me. It was perfect.

I led her to a table and sat her down in my lap, scanning the crowd and knowing that fae all around the room were still watching us. I reached for my own goblet, and wished I could forget, too.

"Dance, Feyre," I said, as she started to slump in my lap. That would not do.

She stood unsteadily to her feet, right between my knees, and swayed to the music. Lifted her arms, trailed her hands down the sides of her breasts, and closed her gold-lidded eyes as she moved.

In any other setting, she might have been exquisite.

Here, she was hollow. She wasn't in her body, there was just a dress and some paint. And I wondered if she would ever forgive me for this. I doubted it.

A High fae came up to us, stood behind Feyre and started to dance with her. Feyre turned to him, reached for him. I grabbed her arms, and smoothed them back down to her sides.

"Mine," I growled at the fae, and his eyes narrowed, but he backed away. Cauldron. This was going to be my entire evening.

I let her dance until she started to flag, and then I set her carefully back in my lap. Couldn't let her sit anywhere else, couldn't let her out of my sight. Not like this. Not in this state.

And then when she started to droop again, I got her up to dance. Up down, dance, sit. Up again. A whole fucking routine that made me want to blow my brains out. The only upside was that Tamlin kept his eyes on us the whole time, and hated every moment. And yet still, he didn't move from his throne. Delightful.

When finally the night started down and everyone was disappearing to either their own beds or someone else's, I led Feyre back to her cell. Let her collapse on the pallet and sleep off the wine. By the time I got back to my own room, the self-loathing was enough to choke on.

But Feyre had made it through the night alive.

And if this is what it took to get her through to the second task, then I could keep doing it. After all. What was a handful of nights are fifty years Under the Mountain?

****

Agh I really don't know if this is worth anything, but I hope you get something out of it dearest, and if you don't you can always send me a different scene and I'll try again if I can x

#ask #prompt fill #acotar #idk it's not quite feysand is it #no idea what i'm supposed to tag this as #also not feeling confident enough about it to put the taglist on??#bit out of my depth haha sorry

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tenshindon · 3 years

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if i think about tien fretting over chiaotzu and yamcha’s safety one more time i think i might explode so For Once i’m writing out my thoughts in the main part of the post :)))) under the cut of course :))))))

We all know that Tien’s concerned over Chiaotzu’s well-being all the time, like that’s a defining part of their relationship. Even when they’re already dead Tien’s still horrified at the prospect of Chiaotzu dying during their spar with Piccolo. However it isn’t until Resurrection F that we’re given a notice that Tien’s concerned over Yamcha as well. Whether this was a development exclusive to Super or it’s just been a background thing that’s only now manifesting in the subtlest of ways, we will never know <3 Either that or my memory of Everything Ever is very hazy <3 however I will talk about it anyways because my brain is decaying as we speak because holy shit

Like through Dragon Ball and Dragon Ball Z, we repeatedly see Yamcha extending his heart out to Tien: Yamcha repeatedly pleading with Tien to reconsider learning the mafuba, Yamcha granting Tien reassurance before he goes off to fight Tao and subsequently understanding Tien needs time alone after the fight, Yamcha wishing to stay with Tien and Chiaotzu in the afterlife, and so on. From these instances alone, we know that Yamcha is certainly more open about his affection and care towards his friends (which is a whole post I can make on its own, Yamcha’s incredibly emotionally intelligent and it’s so good).

However this type of care isn’t exactly reciprocated towards Yamcha- or not as obviously, anyways. Which isn’t all too surprising; pardon Chiaotzu and especially by Z, Tien’s very reserved and generally just keeps to himself and Chiaotzu.

However, as aforementioned, Tien remarks that he left Yamcha and Chiaotzu behind away from the fight. It’s a rather innocuous line when you think of it: on the surface, Tien’s just clarifying- well, he just left Yamcha and Chiaotzu behind because he feels it’s too dangerous for them. But then you have to ask the question: since when did Tien have authority over what Yamcha did? And why was Yamcha so willing to listen? Was Yamcha just not clued in on what was happening and Tien figured he wouldn’t tell him?

Chiaotzu is understandable; despite Chiaotzu being just five years younger than Tien and thus being in his early 40′s by Super, Tien still treats him like a younger brother and as his guardian. So when he so casually adds Yamcha to this- to just so naturally say “I left Chiaotzu and Yamcha behind. The danger seems too much for them,” it just really makes you think a bit. Because Tien made a conscious decision to leave Yamcha behind for his well-being.

In this instance Tien is putting Yamcha on the same- or at least similar level as Chiaotzu, someone we’re all very well aware that he would literally kill someone for, even if that someone is himself. The meta explanation for this could very well just be Toei didn’t want to bother giving Yamcha and Chiaotzu anything to do during the movie, and since they were already perceived as the weakest among the cast it was much easier to leave them out of it entirely (though that’s a rant for another day). The issue that arises however is that Toei accidentally (or maybe intentionally) adds a layer to Tien and Yamcha’s relationship, or at least shows us that Tien does care about Yamcha’s safety and shows some type of growth to Tien. As I talked about before, Tien is reserved and doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve- so for an action like this to occur on his part, it demonstrates a great leap in his development as a person and opening up.

And the thing about this is that it’s not entirely out of Tien’s character to leave people behind to protect them- it’s completely in character, in a way. During the Saiyan Saga, Tien initially attempts to dissuade Chiaotzu from attending the Saiyan fight, forming a similar excuse as that it would be too dangerous for him. With an instance like this, it shows us that if Tien isn’t confident he can protect Chiaotzu on the battlefield, the most he can do is make sure he’s at home and assuredly safe. He does this again during the Cell Saga by leaving Chiaotzu at Roshi’s abode, once again asserting that it would be too dangerous for Chiaotzu.

During Z Tien doesn’t show this type of concern towards Yamcha, which isn’t wrong or even irrational. Amidst Z, Yamcha was more than capable of taking care of himself and looking after his own back; Tien didn’t reason it would make sense for him to look after him. Not only that, but Tien and Chiaotzu’s relationship is just seemingly more natural to him: he’s known Chiaotzu since he was a child, it makes sense for his care to be more open and at the ready. Tien knows Chiaotzu and his boundaries, and vice versa.

The important thing about Tien though, as I already mentioned right- he’s reserved. Coupled with the fact he was raised by Shen and Tao of all people, it’s probably hard for him to make deep connections with people, let alone traditionally express care. That’s why Chiaotzu is such an anchor for him: he’s really all he has at the end of the day, if not himself. And he’s already demonstrated he’d rather die than live without his brother.

Shifting to Yamcha, it’s... a topic that really should be touched on more. When Yamcha dies during the Saiyan Saga, the anime offers a particular reaction shot on Tien. It’s not much all things considered, but it does allow the viewer to be able to identify that Yamcha’s death had somewhat of a significant impact on Tien specifically, as he’s the only one with an isolated reaction shot (which is especially telling considering Krillin was friends with Yamcha longer and logically would be more devastated and more deserving of a singular shot. He gets this, however by actually checking on Yamcha’s body but I could touch on that whole topic another time). Later on in the Cell saga, Tien is subjected to watching Yamcha die (or be on the precipice of dying) again via Dr. Gero; Tien is the first of the Z Fighters to show up to the scene, thus giving us another Tien-specific reaction shot.

Obviously, Tien’s reactions to Yamcha and Chiaotzu differ severely; we’ve already gone over why Chiaotzu has a greater bond to Tien, and despite the friendship Yamcha and Tien have been able to build over the years it would be near impossible for Yamcha to ever be totally on the same level as Chiaotzu. But at the very least and looking at the Resurrection F dialogue, Yamcha’s deadly experiences have had a lasting impact on Tien.

It wouldn’t be improbable to assume Tien suffered from guilt from Chiaotzu dying during the Saiyan Saga- he even warned Chiaotzu about coming along, so being helpless to protect his brother as he watched him be bashed before he ultimately kills himself could have been certainly traumatizing. Chiaotzu’s death in the Saiyan Saga, in my opinion, is more devastating than his King Piccolo death.

Against King Piccolo Chiaotzu was killed swiftly, and he was at least able to leave a body behind. Of course, there definitely comes feelings of guilt at the fact Tien was the one who instructed Chiaotzu to get into danger in the first place- which is probably why he’s more open to the idea of letting Chiaotzu sit a fight out in the future. During the Saiyan Saga, Chiaotzu is thrashed over and over again and rammed against mountains while Tien is found in a similar position of being physically incapable of protecting him. The whole display definitely lasts much longer than the King Piccolo incident, and it’s far more agonizing as Chiaotzu telepathically communicates with Tien during this. All for it to culminate in Chiaotzu uselessly sacrificing himself, Tien even hallucinating Chiaotzu amidst delirium.

Tien best shows his care through action and protecting those he loves- he’s just incapable of verbally saying he cares and thus best does it through service. For Tien to implicitly order Yamcha to stay away from the fight with Chiaotzu, it shows us that he harbors similar feelings of fear, guilt, and care that he does towards Chiaotzu towards Yamcha as well. Tien does his best to keep Chiaotzu away from fights because he’s afraid of losing him again because he wasn’t strong enough to protect him- it’s a fair-enough bet to wager this fear extends towards losing Yamcha as well.

Which not only makes Tien’s underwhelming reaction to Earth blowing up so fuckinnnn aggravating like oh my god like fucking he actually kept his loved ones behind and they still died can you imagine the fuckin turmoil and angst jesus christ im going insane Also this is why I needed a fucking scene of these three knuckleheads talking about chiaotzu and yamcha staying behind like toei im begging you throw me a bone LMAOOOO

#snap chats #long post #i hate being so shit at words but yeah holy shit im going insane #this shit has fucked me up for motnhs #and it makes me so upset with how its handled- or how it isnt rather #like theres SO much to unpack #again im not very good at words and ive probably repeated myself or like #everything might be incoherant as fuck #all that matters tho is if my homie gets it :)#i will find that out in four hours when she wakes up #this honestly turned more into an overview of chiaotzu and tien's relationship??#i dont even know what the focus was here fuck dude #again this is literlaly just me RAMBLING #god help me make a coherant thought #i might touch this topic again when like. i know how to fucking WRITE #but yeah #i hope everyone nkows im dying inside because this shit is like #like holy FUCK dude jesus CHRIST #ok bye dont look at me #im not proofreading this any more im tired of looking at this #no one's going to even read it who cares we outtie baby #i feel like i want to say so much more but jesus chrit im so bad at words #i really just cannot express to you guys how impotrant this is to me????#or at least how interesting it is to me

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failbaby · 3 years

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I have a real life tale of Homeric Epic proportions for you all. I do not condone the actions of anyone in this story

My senior year of high school, I was entrenched in a preposterous scandal between two of my friends.

Guy 1 was this completely indescribable, sexually ambiguous, utterly ridiculous little xc/debate club twink who was an armed libertarian leftist, HYPERfixated on working class history, and VERY intelligent but so hyperactive and deliberately loud/obnoxious that all of our teachers hated him anyway. He called me “Rosita Bonita,” and was accepted to Princeton and CalTech but was going to a mid-tier school nearby because he didn’t want to leave the mountains. 🥺

Guy 2 was an extremely easygoing, widely-beloved football player with a FIANCÉ he’d been with for 3 years (religious people in small towns get engaged young) who was a devout environmentalist and was planning on going to trade school in Italy after graduation. No real reason, he just thought Italy was dope, which I respect.

Both good guys, both weird

We were all the same friend group (me, the dudes, the fiancé, & several other ppl), and those two were really close. Like if I was slightly more heterosexual I would say “bromance.” The summer before senior year, those guys, another friend of ours, and the fiancé went on an educational environmental science trip to Peru, where they, like, hiked around and camped out in the mountains. I don’t know or care what they were supposed to be learning about the environment up there, I just know that they split their little group of 4 up into a boys tent and girls tent, and these two boys who the Lord God put on this earth to play high school sports started fucking each other in tents in the rocky mountains of Peru.

Which would normally be like, okay, so what, Rose, why are you telling me these dudes’ business, but you have to remember that the second dude had a fiancé, a female fiancé no less, who was on the trip and was sleeping just a few yards away from where these boys were fucking each other. And this is where it morphed into everyone’s business

My friend, the only member of their little group who was not involved, called me from a hotel one night when they’d gone back down out of the mountains and into a town (and thus had cell service again), and she was like, “Rose, you need to help me.”

And I was like “What? What’s wrong?” Panicking, because my four dear friends were very far away in a weird mountain town and I had no idea what could possibly have happened

And she goes “I think that [guy 1] and [guy 2] are having sex, and I don’t know how to tell [fiancé].”

This is news to me, because I was previously SO sure that guy 2 was straight. I was like “I really think you’re losing it”

So we talked it out a little bit and decided that the high altitude was getting to her, and our friend wouldn’t cheat on his fiancé, who he really loved, and our other friend wouldn’t sow division in our close-knit group like that

School started back up however long after they got back, and things were just like. Completely normal for a while, and then after like a month of the whole thing being forgotten and under the bridge, guy 1 becomes overwhelmed with guilt and decides to tell the fiancé that he was in fact fucking her beloved in the Peruvian mountains.

Now, this was a MAJOR blow to the law, serenity, and order of our group, as im sure you know if you’ve ever been involved in a situation where a member of a friend group was cheating with another member of a friend group. All of my friends are very progressive, so it was much more about the cheating and lying than the fact that they were both men, but I would be wrong to say that that was not also a concern, because it came so completely out of nowhere. We were all blindsided (except for my friend, who I had accidentally gaslit into believing this wasn’t happening and she was going crazy from mountain air 🤪)

So. This is where it gets wild

Guy 2 takes the logical path out and decides to just lie and say that this never happened at all. Like, he straight up denies everything guy 1 is alleging.

I don’t know why he did that. You should never lie about something if the other person has screenshots, which guy 1 did. He had screenshots like you would not BELIEVE.

And he IMMEDIATELY took to the public Internet, which my mother uses, with these screenshots.

A lot of people had heard rumors about this by now, because these guys were both athletes and guy 2 was like “popular” or whatever, so it just kinda gets around. Guy 1 decided to feed the people and send the screenshots to the school gossip IG acct (“____ high school tea”), and of course, the person running the page was THRILLED to have such top-tier content so early in the school year, and it was all posted for their 1,188 followers to see.

The screenshots told a story that ran much deeper than two dudes fucking each other on a field trip. I had initially kind of assumed was just a “gay-for-the-stay,” messing around kind of thing, but there were screenshots of texts from guy 2 about getting MARRIED, telling guy 1 that he was his SOULMATE, telling him he “set my heart to flame,” “I love you more than anything,” etc etc., and, most notably, a picture of guy 2 in the act of SUCKING GUY 1’s DICK. Some of these things dated from WEEKS AFTER they got back from Peru.

So, it was clear to me that guy 1 AND the fiancé both felt (justifiably?) extremely fucked over by guy 2 at this point. The previously-airtight group was on the verge of collapse, as all of us had been dragged into this conflict between these 3 mfs. The girl called off the engagement.

Guy 2 wrote a notes app apology to the entire school claiming he had dissociative identity disorder and blaming the entire affair on his gay alter ego. Then he wrote a sad rap begging his fiancé to get back with him.

But the most insane part of all of this is that, since guy 1 AND guy 2 were both 17 when the explicit pic was posted on “[redacted]hstea,” the POLICE got involved. Guy 1 was investigated on CHILD PORNOGRAPHY charges for a picture of him getting his own dick sucked by a peer, as was guy 2, AS WAS the person running the tea account.

(This tea account had ruined lives, so when her identity was revealed, she literally transferred schools within like a week. Or maybe she’s in jail idk)

The charges were dropped and the boys were let off with a warning, because like. From a legal standpoint, who cares, but we All had to go to an internet safety assembly run by cops where they lectured us for two hours about not taking nudies, and EVERYONE was looking at me and my friends, because even though we had nothing to do with it, they KNEW we were affiliated with the defendents, and that was enough for them

Then guy 1 shot out the back window of guy 2’s car, which was the catharsis of the whole event, and it effectively blew over within another month or two.

Our group was split in half by loyalty (we joked and said guy 2 and his fiancé were like our divorcing parents), and I did not see those two in a room together for SEVERAL months, but then there was one weekend in like February that we all got together like old times (except for the fiancé who had moved on to a better man, as she should), and we were talking about going to a party with some of guy 2’s football friends, and guy 1 was like “I’m not gonna do that. You know what they say about me.”

And guy 2 tucked guy 1’s hair behind his ear and said with ZERO hesitation, “But you know I won’t let anything happen to you.”

This is a completely benign interaction, but imagine being me, witnessing this after 8 months of general social hell, child pornography charges, ruined friendships, Megan is missing assemblies, THE most dramatic breakup I’ve ever seen in my life and subsequent SoundCloud raps, shot out car windows, and a fake DID diagnosis, ALL because guy 2 wanted to avoid allegations of gay behavior. For WHAT.

Anyway coronavirus happened and idk what’s going on with them now and I don’t care but that’s my villain origin story

#oc #you can't make this shit up #this is why I don’t fw no person on any level

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thatoneitaliangirl · 3 years

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Obey Me! Soulmate AU Lucifer 2

Sorry, I kind of dropped off the face of the earth for a hot minute there. I’m just going through some stuff, don’t mind me!~ I really hope you like this. I was planning on making it longer, but I felt like I left it off at a good place. I think I may finish off each story one by one, since I’m on a roll with Lucifer’s story, but it depends on my mood. I may start on Mammon’s part 2 soon, so you never know! Next part is either Lucifer part 3 or Mammon part 2 lol. I really hope you like it!!!

________________________________________

When I was a little girl, scary movies always excited me. I would get on my hands and knees to beg my mother to let me watch them, even if I knew I'd have nightmares. There was just something about being scared but not being in danger that really made me happy. As I got older, it became an obsession. Horror movie posters littered my walls, and all other kinds of merchandise, some even rare items, surrounded me in my day to day life. But what always made my day was ghost stories. Some classic bumps in the night, others intense cases of demonic possession. Eventually, movies weren't enough of a thrill. I needed the real thing.

_______________________________________________________

"Are you sure about this, _____? I mean, I know you're into that freaky shit, but this is getting a little too real for me." _____'s best friend Monica says, holding herself in her arms.

"Oh please, Monny! It's just a little ghost hunt. Nothing to be worried about!" Her golden eyes widen as she gawks at her friend.

"Nothing to worry about? Girly, you know damn well I don't do ghost shit. That's all you, my friend, and honestly, I don't feel like dying before graduating high school!" _____ rolls her eyes, but this doesn't stop her friend's ramblings.

"You're following the information given to you by some rando on the internet you only met last week- he's probably leading you into a trap! This is one of those cases you see on HLN where the young, unexpecting girls get taken to be sex trafficked."

"We're not gonna die. And it's not even confirmed that there are ghosts here," _____ lifts up the broken chain-link fence and motions for her friend to enter.

"Wait, we're going through all this trouble and you’re not even sure if it's actually haunted?! Are you kidding me?"

"Look, if you're that much of a scaredy-cat, you can wait outside. I just want to snap a few pictures to post on my blog." Biting her lip and shifting from side to side, Monica weighs her options.

"Okay, fine. Just don't take forever. My mom wants us back before dark," Monica says, pouting.

"And don't call me a scaredy-cat!" _____ smirks.

"Okay, okay . . . Scaredy-cat!" She laughs, lightly jogging away from her friend and towards the abandoned building. With her flashlight in hand, _____ sneaks around the back under some fallen tree-limbs and clicks her tongue.

"If I remember right, the guy said it would be about . . . Here!" Finding the boarded window she was looking for, _____ slides the board up and enters the hole. She drops down into a dark room, the only light seeping in through the cracks in the worn wood covering the window. Quickly turning on her flashlight, the young girl takes a look around what appears to be the basement of the run-down house.

"He seemed to have left out the fact that my little 'tour' would start in the basement, but I can work with this." _____ takes a deep breath and scans the area. Besides some creepy old toys, nothing really interests her here.

So, she finds the door leading upstairs and slowly makes her way up the creaking wood. The leaky pipes and several rainstorms since the abandonment of the house have not been kind to the drywall and wood structuring. Reaching the top, _____ shines her flashlight around, taking in the once white walls of the family room, now covered in mold.

"A little Damp-rid would do this house some wonders, I'm sure." Her camera flashes as she takes her first shot, making sure to get in the ripped couch and fallen portraits. Had vandals and old age not did their thing, this house would have been in perfect condition.

"The people living here just up and abandoned it with no warning. Seems . . . Suss if you ask me.” She scrunches her face and shrugs.

"Alright, let's do some exploring." Shaking off her shakes of anticipation, _____ ascends the stairs leading to the second floor with caution. Despite her lack of fear for the paranormal, she still fears falling through the dampened wood flooring and having to explain to her mother why she's in the hospital getting tested for tetanus. A sudden sound above her makes her stop for a moment, halting the loud creaking of the stairs.

"What the Hell . . . ?" What sounds like a light tapping across the floor above slowly moves forward toward the stairs and ending at the door at the end of the hall. She shines her flashlight there, but it begins to flicker and dim.

"Shit! I just changed these batteries!" She bats it with her palm, but it does nothing as it fades away. The hinges of the door screech as it slowly begins to open, so slow that it's barely visible. What little light is streaming through the cracks of the boarded windows seems to almost be absorbed by the darkness inside the bedroom. _____ gets closer to the door, feeling an immense pull to open it and go inside. Her goal of capturing pictures long gone from her mind as she reaches out and touches the handle.

"_____! Are you done yet?!" Her friend yelling to her from outside startles her and she removes her hand. She releases a breath she didn't know she was holding and tilts her head to yell back.

"Uh, Yeah, almost! Be right out!" Her feet tap against the wood flooring as she descends the stairs, but pauses and takes a look back at the door all the way at the end of the hall.

"It'll only take a second . . . " She says to herself, never removing her eyes from the darkness within.

"Come on, _____! We're losing daylight!" Biting her lip, she lifts her camera and snaps a few photos before running back to the basement and out of the small window. Just as her friend said, the sun is almost below the horizon.

"Oh shit."

"Oh, shit is right! Let's get out of here!"

________________________________________________________

Growing up the way I did, I never really thought too much about what that day meant. Though every once in a while, I find myself thinking about that house. Monica and I left that town not long after we graduated, but the longing I have to go back has nothing to do with homesickness.

"Hey, look! I never thought I'd be seeing these pictures again!" Monica laughs, holding up the small box filled with photos from _____'s old camera.

"Is that prom?" She asks, making her way over to Monica with curiosity.

"I think so," She holds up more photos of the two girls in dresses holding hands with a boy and another girl.

"It has to be. Look, there's Jonah!" _____ rolls her eyes and groans.

"God, I hoped I would never have to see his face again. Burn the pictures!"

"No!" Monica holds the photos to her chest protectively.

"Just because you hated your date, doesn't mean I hated mine!" _____ laughs.

"True. Okay, you can keep 'em! I have all these on a hard drive somewhere, so I'll have plenty of memories!" The smile on Monica's face slowly begins to fall at _____'s words.

"Do you really have to go? I know I've said this like a thousand times, but how do you know you can trust this man?" It's understandable that Monica is concerned. I mean, most people would be if their best friend meets a guy and less than a month later moves out with them.

"I'll be fine. I promise. And I'll write all the time!" Monica groans.

"Exactly, you'll write! I mean, where even is this place that you're going, huh? No cell service, no internet? It's like this guy is taking you completely off the grid, and that's what worries me. He's not forcing you to do this, is he? Cause if he is-!" _____ grabs Monica's shoulders and looks her in the eye.

"Nobody's forcing me to do anything! I love him . . . Perhaps it's a little fast for most people, but I know for a fact that we're meant to be together. Please, trust me on this." The brunette's shoulders sink as if finally accepting _____'s answer.

"Fine. But just know that I don't like him!" A smile makes its way onto _____'s face and pulls her hands back.

"I guess if you don't like him then you won't want to be here tomorrow." Her head snaps up making her brown curls bounce around her head.

"Why?" The ghost hunter smirks and checks her nails.

"Well, my boyfriend and a few of his brothers are coming over to take most of the boxes. I wouldn't want you to be upset, so it's probably best if you stay away."

"Are you kidding me?! Of course, I'm gonna be there! I'm gonna give this bastard a piece of my mind! First, he takes my best friend away, and then he thinks he can just walk up in here and not even ask for your hand in dating from the one person that counts?! Oh, I'll show him! And his brothers too!" Fuming, Monica starts to pace, her arms flailing animatedly.

"Are you gonna give them all a stern talking to, mother dearest?" She stops in her rambling to glare at _____.

"Keep giving me backtalk, and I might just give you a stern talking to. With my fist!" _____ retaliates by throwing a couch pillow.

"Oh, it's on, girly!"

______________________________________________________

"_____, are you awake?" The young woman shifts in her sleep, stretching before opening her eyes.

"I am now. When did you get here?" Lucifer smiles, moving some hair from _____'s face.

"Only a moment ago. I didn't mean to wake you, I had just thought you'd be up." _____ takes a look at the clock on her nightstand, her eyes widening.

"Holy shit! It's almost two?" The tender moment is lost as she jumps out of her bed and runs to her adjoined bathroom. A smirk makes its way onto the demon's face, watching her frantically trying to brush her teeth and hair at the same time.

"There's no need to rush, my love. Although the sight before me is breathtaking, I'll go keep my brothers' busy loading boxes into the portal. Wouldn't want them stumbling in here and seeing something only I should see." The cheeky bastard leaves the room, and _____ looks down at her bedtime apparel consisting of panties and a large shirt.

"Well, that's not embarrassing or anything."

She quickly finishes getting ready and heads down the stairs to an argument.

"It's your fault!" Levi yells, gesturing to a box at his feet.

"Me?! What did I do?!" Mammon yells back, defensive.

"You made me drop it with your stupidity! If you hadn't been acting like a big baby, we would have most of this done by now!" The box in question happens to be the small box filled with photographs.

"Hey guys, don't worry about it! It's just some pictures. I'll clean it up, no biggie!" The two demons blush and look away, a bit ashamed to be yelling in front of the girl.

"Sorry, _____. If Mammon actually did his job, we'd be out of here by now."

"I'm helping!" Levi rolls his eyes.

"If by helping you mean complaining, then yeah, you've been a big help!" Mammon crosses his arms and glares.

"Oh, like you're any better? Just two minutes ago you were complaining about how you're arms hurt! These boxes should weigh nothing to you!" As the fight continues, Lucifer comes up next to her and sighs. I'm sorry about my brothers, _____. Would you believe me if I told you they actually volunteered to help?" _____ laughs.

Over the course of knowing Lucifer, the young woman has grown close to his brother's as well, mainly the two standing in front of her. Mammon likes her ghost adventure stories, and Levi just likes the fact _____ is willing to listen to his rants. Even Satan has enjoyed a few human books recommended to him by the lovable ghost hunter, and they often discuss murder mysteries together over text. It's no surprise to Lucifer that his soulmate gets along so well with his brothers. He cares dearly for his younger siblings, and _____ provides the care his pride prevents him from showing.

"I believe it. But, you know, brothers will be brothers," She smiles up at him, unknowingly making his heartbeat just a bit faster. Her eyes widen a bit and a small gasp leaves her lips as she takes another look at the clock.

"I forgot to tell you, but Monica is-"

"Where is he?!" The front door slams open, halting the never-ending argument and making _____ pout.

"Monica, any damage left gets taken out of my deposit. Could you be a bit more careful?" The brunette crosses her arms and scans the room, reading all three men, and assessing the situation. Her eyes narrow at Levi, making him whimper slightly and shrink under her gaze. Next, Mammon, who just crosses his arms back and raises a brow under his sunglasses. Her eyes land on Lucifer and her glare turns to a scowl. Target acquired. She dramatically raises her hand and points at the demon.

"You." Confused, he points to himself.

"Me . . . ?"

"You're the one that's stealing my sister from me!" _____ sighs and puts her head in her hand.

"Here we go." Monica walks over, practically chest to chest with Lucifer, though there's a notable height difference. Lucifer coughs awkwardly, looking down at the female.

"Is there a problem?"

"I don't know, is there?" _____ sighs again.

"Monica-"

"Don't 'Monica' me! I don't care how big and muscular he appears to be, he better square up, cause he's not taking you without a fight, sis!"

"This is ridiculous, Monica. You can't fight him." Her glare deepens, never breaking eye contact with Lucifer.

"Watch me." She raises her fist.

"I don't think you want to do that," Lucifer speaks up, temporarily halting her actions.

"There's nothing you can say to me that'll- Put me down!" Lucifer picks up Monica by her shoulders and gently holds the kicking and screaming girl until she gives up trying to escape.

"Are you done?" Huffing and puffing, she nods and he places her back on her feet.

"You are a truly worthy opponent. I'll be more prepared next time. Until then, you have earned my blessing. For now!" _____ rolls her eyes, and Lucifer smiles at her.

"Thank you. I apologize for not meeting you sooner. My work prevents me from leaving, and what little free time I have I use to talk to _____. It was wrong of me to not speak with you before arranging this." Monica looks at Lucifer, still skeptical.

"Hm, wise words and a wise decision, trying to butter me up. But I won't give up that easily!"

"Is she always like this?" Mammon asks, leaning up against the wall.

"Always like what? Amazing, beautiful, cautious, careful, caring, concerned??"

"Woah, slow down 'C for Catastrophe', I think you just come off as a little strong sometimes, Monny. Maybe tone it down for the newcomers, alright?" Pouting, Monica agrees.

"Okay, maybe I can be a bit overbearing." _____ raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything.

"That's an understatement," Leviathan says under his breath earning a death glare from the brunette.

"I hate to cut this short, but we should really be going." _____'s head snaps up to look at Lucifer.

"What? Why? You just got here?" His face saddens as he looks down at her, holding her hand in his.

"I know, but I need to head back. Certain duties require my attention," He pulls _____ close in a hug and puts his lips to her ear.

"And Lord Diavolo was only able to keep the portal open for a certain amount of time." His warm breath on her neck sends a shiver down her spine and a blush to her cheeks. She hugs him closer and nods before letting go.

"Alright, I hope you guys have a safe journey back!" She waves to them, Lucifer giving her a quick peck on the cheek, not really one for PDA, and they head out of sight through the front door. Monica clears her throat and looks down at the ground.

"Sorry." Genuinely surprised, _____ turns to her friend.

"For what? You were just being a good friend!"

"Not that," She sighs, and wrings her hands together.

"I didn't know his time here was limited. I didn't mean to keep you from him." _____ smiles and pats her friend on the head, which earns her an annoyed scowl.

"It's okay, Monny, don't worry about it! How about we make some tea and chill for a bit? I still have some packing to do before next week." The shorter female smiles and nods.

"Definitely! I'll start the water!" She rushes off to the kitchen, leaving _____ in the living room. It's true that she's upset she didn't get to be with Lucifer for very long, but she doesn't blame her friend. Magic is something she still doesn't understand but knows there are certain limitations.

Maybe if she had gotten up earlier, she could have talked with her soulmate a bit more, but she was just so tired. Her dreams kept her up tossing and turning most of the night, much to her displeasure. She doesn't remember exactly what they were about, but they weren't pleasant, and she's not sure if she actually wants to remember them.

Monica working to heat up the water, _____ decides to clean up the scattered pictures from the fallen box. There's no particular order they should go in since they were pretty much haphazardly thrown in there to begin with, but she tries to start from the bottom, attempting to keep some sort of linear timeframe of when she put the pictures in there.

"Eventually I gotta go through these and get rid of the junk. I don't think I want Lucifer seeing me at fourteen with braces, pigtails, and eyeliner up to my temples." She gently shuffles through the pictures, tossing them in as she goes, until she reaches the last group.

Undoubtedly the darkest of them, they immediately stand out from the family beach days and the cringe selfies. _____ picks them up, and examines them. The first few are of crumbling walls and boarded up windows, no doubt an abandoned house she's been to, but that's not what strikes her as odd. She never kept her hunting photos with her normal ones, especially back then.

Her mother would have killed her if she found out, so she would always develop them and put them in a lockbox under her bed. The last few photos in the bunch show a dark hall, and it's as if all the heat rushes from her body. A cold chill replaces any warmth she may have had as she looks from one picture to the other, the hallway becoming darker and darker before it goes completely black, the door at the end the only thing visible.

While she remembers taking the pictures, she doesn't remember ever actually developing them. It was her first abandoned house- thinking back it would have been weird for her not to take a look at them. But the more she tries to remember, the more she can't. It's as if she's blocked it out somehow.

"You okay, girly?" Monica places her hand on _____'s shoulder, breaking her from her thoughts.

"Uh, yeah, sorry. Got a little distracted is all," She places the pictures at the top of the box, closes it, and puts it to the side.

"Now, how about tea?"

The two girls spend the rest of the night packing and chatting, almost making _____ forget about the pictures. Almost. It isn’t long after Monica leaves that _____ finds herself drawn to the small box, knowing that the pictures are just a few feet away. A ringing from her pocket startles her, and she pulls out her DDD. The caller ID says Lucifer, and she smiles knowing how late it is. This is most likely his first break since he got back.

"Hey, are you okay?" Her smile drops a bit at the urgency in his voice.

"Yes, why? Is everything alright?" He sighs on the other end of the phone sounding relieved.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I felt that you were in danger, and the pact was calling to me." Sure enough, the pact mark on her arm is glowing a beautiful blue, bright enough to shine through her shirt sleeve. She lightly rubs it, willing it to stop, and the glow slowly fades.

"Sorry, I didn't even realize I was doing it. It's just . . . " _____ bites her lip, looking over at the box.

"_____, what's wrong? Are you in danger?"

"No," Sighing, _____ turns away from the box and heads to her bedroom, attempting to put it out of her mind.

"I was just anxious . . . I miss you." He chuckles a little, making her heart race.

"I miss you too. I'm sorry I had to cut our afternoon short, but Lord Diavolo needed me. The higher demons are still . . . Skeptical about our father's decision. They've become nervous, and there have been talks of a coup."

"Oh, wow," She never really thought about it, but it makes sense why people would be skeptical especially demons. To them, it may seem like some plot to take over the Devildom.

"How's Lord Diavolo handling this news?" She's spoken to Lord Diavolo a few times, and he's always seemed like such a nice and positive guy that really cares about his kingdom and its citizens.

"He's upset, but not surprised. But he knows my brothers and I are on his side, so if a coup were to take place, they wouldn't get very far."

"I'm glad. How are you handling this? Want to talk about it?" She's concerned for him, despite knowing how powerful he is. His workload before was intense, but now she's sure it's even worse. He barely gets to sleep, and she can hear it sometimes when he's on the phone with her. He's even fallen asleep on the phone, much to her disappointment. She feels guilty every time that happens, because he's clearly tired but still staying up late to talk to her.

"I would love to, but unfortunately, there's not much I can say . . . "

"You never know who's listening, right?" He laughs.

"Yes, I'm sorry. But I can tell you that all of this will be sorted before next week. I'll make sure of it." The determination in his voice was enough to know he was telling the truth. Once Lucifer makes his mind up about something, it gets done.

"I believe you! But even so, I'm sure my presence might stir up the higher demons. Maybe it's best if I and the other girls stay here until the Devildom calms down." She's heard of his brother's soulmates before, though she's never actually talked to them. But it's not hard to assume that they are going through the same things she is, feeling the same things, and wondering how their lives are going to change.

"At the moment, any plans for you or the others to come here are still on track. But, I'm afraid you may have a point . . . "

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I know no matter what you decide, it'll be the right choice. I have the utmost confidence in you, hun." Lucifer clears his throat, flustered.

"I'm glad you do. Your safety is my top priority. One of them."

"I can only imagine the work you have right now. I'll let you go." _____ glances at the time. It's pretty late for her, and the time difference isn't too far off from her own.

"I'll call you tomorrow as soon as I can. Sleep well, my love." For him not to protest hanging up the phone, he must really be swamped with work.

"Sleep well." Laying down, _____ can feel her eyelids falling heavy and pulls the covers over her shoulders. Despite her pleasant thoughts of her love, her dreams are anything but.

To be continued ------

#obey me!#obey me! x reader #obey me! lucifer #obey me! mammon #obey me! leviathan #obey me! satan #obey me! asmodeus #obey me! beelzebub #obey me! belphegor #obey me! lucifer x reader #obey me! soulmate #obey me! soulmate au

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ficsnroses · 4 years

Text

Worried - John Wick x Reader Oneshot

From the Comfort Series of Fluffy Oneshots :)

Word Count : 3.5k

Warnings : So Much Fluff. Angst. Brief hospitalization (nothing serious!) Also, will I ever come up with a creative title?

Summary : On his way to pick up his girlfriend, Y/N, for an evening out, John receives a call from the hospital.

A/N : Alright. I’m nervous about this one because it didn’t quite turn out the way I wanted, but I worked really hard on it & would love to hear what you all think ❤️ This was requested by @cynic-spirit , I hope its alright! I’m not 100% happy with how I approached this request, so I may re write something similar in the future to toy with the concept more. Enjoy!

*Also, I included date outfit pictures at the end, because it’s a fun thing to do, right? It’s cute!*

Spring is near, and the longer evenings are here to prove it. The sun has bid goodbye, leaving a violet hue channeling the sky outside John’s bathroom window. The trees stand in black silhouettes, the smell of apple trees blossoming filters in subtle.

Dog sits at the doorframe, with his paws tucked secure under his resting head, watching John dry his hair with a cotton towel. His chest and torso are peppered with aqua globes, skin still steaming lightly as he’s stepped out the shower. With a towel held around his waist, he grasps Y/N’s favourite cologne of his – a sophisticated blend of spice & wood. He dabs some around his neck, collarbones, and wrists, setting it down for an exchange with a hairbrush.

The sound of his phone vibrating diverts his gaze, to the picture of his love reflecting on his phone screen.

Y/N was facetiming.

Tonight, John was taking her to a nice dinner date at a restaurant by the water. Sure, they’d technically seen each other every night that week, but they hadn’t been able to go out together in a while.

John loved to treat his lady.

Picking his phone up, he accepts the call, holding the camera to his face.

“Hi baby,” he greets her, eyes lighting up, with those beautiful laugh lines crinkling in the corners of his eyes.

“Ooo hello handsome,” She giggles, eyeing his clothing clad, bare chest. “Quick question, are we going somewhere really nice?”

Her beautiful locks shine under the lights, her makeup looks seamless, light, just enough to compliment her elegantly stunning features. John’s heart must have skipped a beat, he still found it hard to believe that this wonderful, amazing women, was all his.

His for the keeping.

John chuckles a bit, running a hand through his fluffy locks. “It’s not formal, but it’s a nice little place. Why?”

“I’m not sure what to wear.” She flips her camera, showing him the array of dresses she’s laid out, a navy blue, a black, and white. “Help me decide!”

John smiles, letting out a content sigh. He let out a lot of those recently, ever since she’d came into his life, made it brighter than what he’d been used to.

“You look beautiful in anything, sweetheart.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, whining.

“John! Can you not be a softie for just one second and help me out?” She sits down on the bed, holding the camera to her face. “Come on, which one do you wanna see me in?”

John lightly scratches his chin, voice deep. “Well, I think you look amazing in white. Makes me go weak in my knees.” He chuckles, giving her a warm smile.

John didn’t know if it was too early, regardless, he’d dream of the day his Y/N would wear a white dress for him, in front of all their family and friends, as he waited for her at the end of the isle.

Someday. Whenever that someday may be.

“Do you want to stay over tonight? Dog misses you.” John proposes, grabbing his beard trimmer.

Y/N snickers, grabbing the white dress on the hanger. “Sure. I miss Dog too. Besides, I like falling asleep beside you way better than here, on my own.” She holds the phone steady in front of her face again. “You’re like, the fluffiest pillow I have.” She giggles again.

John watches her in awe, as always. The way her eyes glimmer when she speaks, the way her tone shifts, highlighting the happiness in her voice. Each word, from her mouth, felt as if a song to him.

His favourite song.

“Glad to be of service.” He winks, letting out a laugh. “Are you almost ready, babe?” He questions, retrieving his hair dryer from the cabinet drawer.

“Yeah, I just need to throw on outfit, and pack a bag for tonight.” She replies, shuffling around her room.

“Aren’t most of your things here already?” John chuckles. “It looks like you own this counter space, not me.” John flips the camera to showcase all her creams and moisturizers, her scented perfumes and skin care routine gadgets. She’d been spending a whole lot of nights at John’s place, leaving her belongings nicely peppered around his bedroom.

“You’re right. I’ll just sleep in one of your shirts.” She bites her lip, looking him in the eyes. “Or maybe, I won’t need one tonight…” Smirking, the tucks a stray hair behind her ear. “Alright then, I’ll see you soon?” She confirms.

John nods his head, replying. “I’ll be right over in an hour. I love you, sweetheart. Don’t forget it.”

“I won’t. I love you too. Bye.” She blows him a quick kiss, ending the call.

Grinning to himself, John blushes at the though of her still, returning to his closet to throw on his outfit for the evening. As each second passes, he anticipates seeing his love soon, being embellished in her company and grace all evening.

Exactly where he loved to be.

With his cellphone propped on the seat beside him, John navigates through the busy New York evening traffic, checking his reflection in the rear view mirror every so often. He runs his fingers through his hair, positioning it just how Y/N liked it.

Before Y/N, John never tried too much to look good. He didn’t care if his hair got lengthier than normal, or if his beard had a few strays in it. But ever since he’d met her, fallen in love with her, he cared. He cared for himself more, tried his best to stay healthy, and presentable.

For her. Because she deserved, to get the best version of him.

She deserved for him to be his best self.

As John drives in silence, his ears pick up the occasional traffic honk, or speeding car beside him. Night has fallen on the city, leaving it to light up brighter than the stars, glowing, glimmering lamp posts and restaurant lights igniting the city streets. He sees couples walk arm in arm, holding hands as they explore the town.

To himself, he smiles.

Smiles, that he had that, finally, for himself. He finally had someone.

To the ring of his cellphone, John snaps out of his thoughts.

An unknown number.

His brows knit in confusion, wondering who it could be. He thinks to ignore it, however, decides against it ultimately, in case it was someone from work.

With his eyes locked on the road, John manages to slide the phone onto speaker, letting wonder lace his tone. “Hello?”

“Hello, sir. Am I speaking with Mr. Jonathan Wick?” A woman speaks on the other end, her voice calm, present, monotone as could be.

“Yes, can I help you?” His deep, ridged voice starts.

“I’m calling on behalf of New York General Hospital. I have you listed as a secondary contact for a recently admitted patient, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N?”

In that moment, John felt his heart drop. His eyes widen, and the world around him seems to stop turning. The traffic seems to pause, the city folk seem to cease walking, the stars seem to melt into the darkness above.

The darkness above, seems to swallow John whole.

With his mind terminating to work straight, his heavy, racing voice speaks. “Y/N? Is she alright?! What happened?! I just spoke with her not too long ago, please tell me she’s okay?!” John almost yells, fear overtaking each nerve in his body.

“Mr. Wick, we need you in urgently for an update on her condition, and form work.”

“I’ll be there, I’m coming, I’m coming!” John shouts, breathing heavier by the second. He feels his body run cold, his mind racing a million a second. “Is she okay? Please, Ms., I need to know.” John begs, foot trudging the accelerator to sprint through traffic.

“She’s going to be alright. Unfortunately sir, I can’t disclose anymore information over the phone, for confidentiality.”

John ends the call in fury, throwing the phone across the seat. “Dammnit!” He hollers, to no one but himself.

In a long time, he hadn’t felt this way. He hadn’t felt a single negative emotion, since she’d came into his life. But now, in this moment, he felt, a mixture of everything he hadn’t felt in a while. But most of all,

He felt fear.

He felt fear, for the thought of anything happening to her. Anger, for not being there fast enough. Fright, for not knowing if she was okay.

Guilt. For not protecting her, as he’d promised himself he would, from the second she gave her heart to him.

His body is tense, his fist clenches beside him, his feet only route the path so quick, leaving his mind paces ahead.

He needed his Y/N to be okay. It couldn’t be any other way.

He wouldn’t let it.

As he finds himself at the door of 116, the room the receptionist had claimed to be Y/N’s, John swings the door open.

There Y/N sits, on a chair, with a band aid on her arm, and a juice box propped on the chair beside her.

She looks alright. John makes note, to thank the sky later.

The nurse has just finished her work beside her, greeting John with a warm smile.

“Hi! You must be John. I’m Y/N’s nurse for this evening.” She extends her arm out, for John to shake. “She is perfect, nothing to worry about. Her iron had dropped very low causing a minor fainting episode, but her neighbour called just in time. I’ve given her a stabilizing injection for now, which should restore all her red blood cells over the course of the next few days. She’s all good to go, and ready to be discharged immediately.” The nurse smiles, walking out of the room, leaving them alone.

John looks to her, worry still shone in his eyes, looking her up and down. His mind seems to stay skeptical, unable to believe that she was actually alright.

That what he loved, hadn’t been taken away from him this time.

“John, I’m so sorry.” She frowns. “I’m all okay. See?” She proposes.

John stares at her for a few seconds longer, before walking up to her, dropping to his knees. He kneels in front of her, both his hands coming forward to hold both of hers tight in a clasp, pressing kisses all over her palms, her knuckles, her wrists. He lets out a weary exhale, resting his forehead against their connected hands for a few moments.

“John, you seem shaken up. I’m so sorry, I forgot to take my medicine this morning. I swear it’s really nothing big though, I’m alright. I’m sorry, I should have-”

John cuts her off, with a shake of his head. “It’s okay.” He stands, subsequently helping her up, placing a hand on the small of her back as he holds her other hand. “Let’s get you out of here.”

John holds her hand tight, fearing she’d vanish any second. He guides her, holding the door open, keeping her tucked secure with his arm wrapped fitted around her smaller frame.

As the forms of release had been taken care of by John, he guides Y/N to his car, hand never leaving hers, with his arm still placed on the small of her back. He holds her close to him, making sure to never let her out of sight. As they arrive to the car door, he holds it open for her, helping her get settled in. Neither of them have spoke a word the entire way down.

As she sets herself in, John leans down to plug her seat belt in across her. “John, it’s alright. I can do it.” She assures, placing a hand on his arm.

Crouching down beside her again, John looks up at her, sadness still littered in his eyes. With a calm tone, John reasons, grabbing hold of her hand again. “Please.” He sighs. “Let me do this for you.”

Shutting the passenger door for her, John walks over to his side, taking place. He places his hands on the steering wheel for a moment, staring at the view ahead. Y/N watches him, worry in her own eyes. John seemed incredibly shaken, uneasy still. She feels horrible, and a heaviness overtakes the feel in her chest.

Reaching over to place a hand over his, she sighs, breaking the silence.

“John, baby, I’m really sorry. I should have been more careful, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin our night, I know you had an evening planned, reservations and all. But I promise, its nothing. I’m really alright.” She smiles, grasping his hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “Please cheer up?”

John lets out a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding. Slowly, he turns his gaze her way, locking their eyes. “I couldn’t care less about the reservations.” He grieves, eyes unable to connect with hers. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart.”

She grips his hand tighter, offering him a small smile, hoping his eyes would light up to his normal self again, glimmer as they do in the moonlit night.

But they didn’t. She frowns, bringing her thumb to brush the delicate skin under his eye, cupping his cheek. “It’s hard for me to see you like this, John. Talk to me. Please?” She whispers, pleading.

John sighs again, before turning his body to face her better. “Its just…that call, Y/N.” He exhales, shaking his head. He firms his eyes tight shut, facing down as he continues.

“It was so hard to hear your name on the other end.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking at the distant city lights again. Y/N rubs her thumb over his hand as she holds it, soothing him, trying her best to calm him.

He stays silent for another moment. As the city out in the distance moves, flows to pace as the night falls, Y/N feels her world standstill. She grips his hand tighter, her soothing strokes brush across his skin, refusing to let him wallow in his thoughts alone.

She’d always be there for him, she’d promised herself. She’d be there for him, because the world had failed to do so.

“Y/N,” He begins, gloomed, tense. “Anytime I get something good, its always been taken away from me.” He looks down at his lap, collecting his thoughts. His eyes are heavy, and they seem to be glistening.

But not in the way Y/N wanted to see them glisten. They were glistening with tears.

“Today, when I got that call, I felt all those things again, all those feelings of hopelessness, guilt, fear…I felt like something was being snatched away from me again. Only this time, it was as if all of the other things combined together, but so much more.” He shakes his head. “It was you. Y/N.”

Her heart drops. She feels the ache.

“I can face anything. I’ve been built that way, I’ve learned, because these things happen to me. I’ve accepted that maybe I’m not deserving of... good. But I can’t…I can’t bare the thought of you being taken away from me. Not you.”

She feels her heart break, shatter for the man in front of her. The man who thought, that he didn’t deserve good. The man who in her eyes, deserved the entire world, if she could give it to him. She brings her other hand to hold both of his, assuring him, that she’s there.

“I just felt so fucking hopeless. I felt guilty that I wasn’t there with you, that I didn’t protect you like I promised I would.” He frowns again.

“Y/N…I don’t have anything. All I have is you. I never had a family, I never had friends, everyone sees me as…” his aching tongue halts to finish he sentence. “I’ve never had anything. And after all I’ve done, all the blood on my hands, I don’t deserve anything.” He tries to hold himself together, staring in disgust at his hands that she held tight.

He sees them as an omen.

“You are all I have, Y/N. Just you, and Dog. And today, when that operator called, I felt like my entire world was being taken away, and I couldn’t do a single thing about it.” His voice cracks. “Like always.” He looks down again, trying to keep himself together.

Y/N watches him, with eyes full of sadness. She felt daggers in her heart with each word he spoke. Trying to channel a smile, she brings her hand to cup his cheek, making him connect his eyes with hers. She leans forward, cupping his face with both her hands, pressing delicate kisses to each inch of his face.

She showers him in love, because that’s what he deserved.

“I love you,” She whispers between kisses. “So much, John. You deserve so much. You deserve more than you think.” She whispers, looking him in the eyes. John brings his arms around her, holding her close as he buries his face in her neck. She rubs up and down his back, running her hands through his hair, making him feel ease.

They hold each other, for what feels like an eternity, eyes closed, sulking in each other.

Pressing a kiss to his shoulder, Y/N breaks the silence, still holding him close.

“John? Do you feel that?” She waits a moment, before speaking. “I’m right here. In your arms. Exactly where I belong,”

John smiles into her shoulder, wrapping his arms tighter around her now. She was right. She was right here, where she belonged. Her silken voice speaks again, in just above a whisper.

“And if I’m not, I’m always just a daydream away.” She smiles.

John chuckles, pulling back, to look her into her shining eyes. “Just a daydream away, I like that.” He presses a kiss to her lips, resting his forehead against hers, as they close their eyes briefly. “Gosh. I love you so much. Don’t scare me like that again.”

She giggles, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I love you more, John. You deserve everything. And I promise, I’ll say it to you each and every day until you believe me. I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

~~~

As they reach home, John, to no surprise, falls into full paranoid boyfriend mode. He helps her each step of the way, holding her hand as they climb the stairs to the front door.

“John, I love you, but you do realize that I’m not hurt in any way? I just have a bandaid from the injection, silly.” She giggles, showing off her patched arm.

“I don’t care, Y/N. You’re not doing anything tonight and you’re going to let me take care of you, okay?” He shimmys the keys in the lock, opening the front door. “I’m not taking no for an answer.” He eyes her.

Y/N smiles, heart content at the man in front of her. She ruffles his hair playfully, pressing a kiss to his bicep, as he takes hold of her hand again, leading her in.

“Jonathan, there’s nothing to take care of. I’m fine.”

Hanging his coat on the coat hanger, John rushes to Y/N’s side to take her coat off for her. Being the gentleman he is, he bends down to unstrap her heels, gently taking her shoes off her feet, storing them away for her.

“John, I’m okaaaaay.” Y/N tries again, although John lets it in through one ear, and out the other. There was no way he was letting his girl do anything at all, until she’d fully recovered.

Placing a hand to the small of her back again, guiding her to the sofa, he ponders out loud. “Spinach is high in iron, right?”

“Yeah?” Y/N replies, getting herself comfy.

“Good. I’ll go make you a spinach smoothie then.”

Y/N scrunches her face in disgust, debating. “John, no. That’s gross.”

“Come ere boy!” John calls out to his Dog. As Dog runs to the room, Y/N hears John’s deep voice speak, as he pets his ears. “Keep mommy company, okay?”

Y/N blushes, at the thought of being Dog’s mommy.

As the night falls further, John helps Y/N change into one of his oversized shirts. It comes to the same length as a dress would on her, John finds her absolutely adorable in it. He feels his heart full at the way she wears a piece of him on her.

A symbol that she was truly, undeniable, fully, his.

After more of John’s antics, trying to help Y/N recover as fast as possible, they lay together in John’s bed, John’s mind partially dozed off to dreamland already. He’d have an eventful evening for sure, but in the end, it was all going to be okay, with the love of his life rest beside him.

As the midnight sky covers the city horizon, moonlight filters in through the window, with a cool breeze flowing through the curtains, as steady, ocean like waves. The world is falling asleep, with the stars scattered in the black and blue marbled sky, the moon gleams around them, beaming its light, radiating over the busy New York night.

To the rise and fall of her lover’s chest, Y/N hums in contentment.

Tight in each others embrace, John and Y/N are tucked away, holding each other after the events of the night. John holds her to his chest, providing her a haven, where no harm could reach, no matter how strong. He places lingering, soft, drowsy kisses to her temples, to her shoulder, to her cheeks, as he pleases, letting her know he’s close, protecting her.

That he’d always be.

The fear, has brought along an overwhelming plethora of love. Nothing but pure, unconditional love. As they lay, secure next to the one who matters most, Y/N’s honeyed voice murmurs into the evening air, thick with sleep,

resting her head further into John’s chest as she pulls him closer,

with a gratified smile on her face.

“The fluffiest pillow I have, indeed.”

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

Johns Outfit!

Y/N’s Outfit!

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

Taglist Posted Separately (Ask to be added or removed!) :

#john wick oneshot #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick imagine #john wick imagines #john wick #john wick x y/n #john wick fluff #john wick fanfiction #john wick fanfic #john wick fic #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves oneshot #keanu reeves #keanu reeves imagines

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oneweekoneband · 3 years

Text

her Nebraska (1982)

In July I flew to Massachusetts with a plague on, and I felt that it was wrong, but my mother had begged and I’d been out of work for months. Mornings there I ran in long, uneven ovals on the same roads I’d memorized in high school. There’s no sidewalks, but the few feet of dirt between the craggy pavement and the open mouths of the fields serve all right for a single body in motion. When a truck comes up close from behind, the ground shakes, and I step away bouncingly from the street toward thigh-high yellow weeds and grass, and keep going. I was slowly picking my way back in that dirt, sweat-slick from only a plodding couple of miles in peak summer heat, and sucking the wet cotton of my mask in between my teeth on every inhale, when Taylor Swift announced she was releasing a surprise album produced by the guy from The National. Not the guy from The National, like, the voice, but the guy from The National whose photo was circulated on Twitter earlier this year as some kind of antifa super soldier, which isn’t the case, but would’ve been rad. First, I stopped dead to send some outraged, misspelled text messages, and then I ran home faster than I’d moved in years.

Tall, blonde, patrician pop star Taylor Swift is to me something like a cross-between a wife and a boogeyman. Bound we’ve been since we were really children. Time and its changes haven’t rid me of her, and what’s worse is I have never quite been able to wish they would, though I claim as much all the time. Countless hours of my one wild and precious life have been spent on endlessly analyzing the minutiae of Taylor Swift’s music, the mind that made it, the real world events which influenced it. And though all the while I have known she is only a person, and that people, while each strange and lovely in their own ways, are, in the end, mostly dull, needful in just the regular manner, the fantasy is better, the sick dream of a megalomaniac songstress, curious, thrilling, probably evil, and I choose that. I don’t know Taylor Alison Swift, born to this world in, I presume, the usual way. But my Taylor Swift? I’m a renowned expert. I’ve always eaten up stories—movies, music, celebrity news, the one my grandfather tells about falling off his bike once in Ireland as a boy and his face “cracking open like an egg”—like a starved dog. I’m obsessive about my interests, but not inclined to intense fandom, and certainly not fandom in the mode of the stan. For one, I’m too self-absorbed. But caring intensely for a famous person is falling in love with a ghost, and that’s all right—I mean, what the hell? We’re here together just dying... Let’s enjoy—but is an affair best undertaken with the knowledge that everyone alive has their own complex interiority, as unruly as your own, and that you, a stranger, are not in any real way connected to the lawless, blurry middle of that celebrity, and will never be. It’s freeing and fun to know this. I mean, these people are basically in your employ. Glamorous dollhouse dwellers. Acknowledging that uncrossable distance allows for a different, healthier closeness of pure imagination. My feelings, then, can comfortably be at once both fiercely intense and entirely silly. I am a foremost scholar in the art of the Taylor Swift who exists in my head. The real person raised in Pennsylvania I don’t know at all. I have some conjectures on the matter, and, as with all my conjectures, every hackneyed theory, each picky little opinion, I’m sure they’re perfect, brilliant, just absolutely right, but that’s still all they are. Taylor Swift, figure of the cultural imagination, is the Jodie Comer to my Sandra Oh in Killing Eve, annoying and pretty in frills, taunting me endlessly and holding us trapped together in a dance of most enchanting death. But the real Taylor Swift has favorite bed sheets and a social security number and a British boyfriend, none of which I have any desire to know about, and if I saw her at a restaurant I’d politely avert my eyes before, yes, dive-bombing the group text. There’s nobody on Earth I’d stand in line to speak to, but then I’ve been speaking to a certain figment of Taylor Swift for nearly half my life.

I went to a Taylor Swift concert the night before I moved into college in 2009. My father’s work friend, firefighter by day, near professional gambler by night, got comped tickets to the Fearless Tour stop taking place at the nearby casino, and he let me have them as a reward, mainly, for happening to be seventeen. Live in-person and performed acoustically, “Fifteen” made me cry. A few years after that, in the thick, sticky part of my first post-college summer, I wrote approximately twenty-three million words about her in these very pages. (”Pages”) At that point, Taylor’s most recent release was 2012’s Red, and the work I produced that long ago July about Taylor and her career, writing I was fairly pleased with at the time, feels now, besides just being extremely clearly written by a twenty-one year old, strange to me for the way it favors the sweet over the sour almost uniformly. There is a wholesome kind of ardor in that writing which maybe I’ve outgrown the ability to hold. Or maybe Taylor just proceeded to spend the next half a decade plus releasing one bad single after another, and it was taste—and trespasses against taste—and not some shift in my nature which altered the tenor of our bond. I have real love for my particular image, gleaned from public statements and published art, of smart, bizarre famous woman Taylor Swift, and I admire the bulk of her output very much. I’m just no longer so inclined to fawn. This is not to say I am here to offer a Taylor Swift hate screed. I couldn’t swing it, and, anyway, I’m not a pop feminist-for-hire circa 2010. But we’re older now. Things are different. At twenty-eight, twenty-nine this month—Taylor will, also this December, turn thirty-one—I regard Taylor Swift warily, like an ex with whom you have a tentative friendship, perpetually on the brink of falling one way or the other into hatred or delight, only to wobble back the opposite direction again at the slightest provocation, but still, despite best efforts, even, I regard her all the time.

folklore was released at midnight on July 24th 2020, but I was at a cabin in rural Vermont without Internet or cell service. I drank Bud Light seltzers with my mother while watching the eerie pandemic return of Major League Baseball, and when I got into a strange bed there I stewed, knowing there were people out in the world all over who were hearing Taylor Swift songs I never had, and that this was a fundamental wrong, a disruption in the balance of the universe. I listened to it the next morning in a Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot.

And folklore is great. That’s the terrible thing. Slightly less great, maybe, than some people have insisted, tricked, I think, by just the pronounced shift in sound. But it’s great. A little gift I asked for a thousand times and was still surprised to get, like a wife who didn’t expect her henpecked husband to ever follow through and buy the paraffin wax hand bath as-see-on-TV. For years, I’ve been halfheartedly insisting that Taylor had a great album in her. I’d say it even, perhaps especially, while she stubbornly fed me gruel. Or worse, gruel with the occasional whiff of something better. With a ripe, little raspberry dropped into the slop. The bright, villainous thrill of “Getaway Car” made me believe Taylor, my Taylor, was in there somewhere under the lacquer of sequins and synth, which, while not objectionable by default, seemed a costume, and an ill-fitting one. The lived-in world of “Cornelia Street” made those old scars sting. That gay “Delicate” video. When she did “Call It What You Want” on SNL and played guitar while wearing an ugly sweater. If the abominable “ME!”, lead single off Lover, was the stick, 1989’s “Clean” was the carrot. I was Charlie Brown, and Taylor my Lucy, yanking the football back again and again. Over drinks I still yelled that Taylor Swift’s next album would be, “her Nebraska”, referring to my favorite Bruce Springsteen record, and learned to live with that egg on my face for good. I suppose I even came to like it. There was something inherently funny in taking up, like, “blind faith in the as of yet untapped greater artistic potential of massively wealthy and popular singer Taylor Swift” as my totally inane personal cause du jour, and eventually it was a bit, a gag I performed to be obstinate and didactic, but way down somewhere awful near my kidneys I meant it the whole while. And then she did it. A pandemic befell the world and amid a sea of human suffering Taylor Swift remembered she can write. She wrote, and with a massive, crucial assist from Aaron Dessner, whose music on this record is sometimes so beautiful it actually angers me, as the last thing I needed in already perilous times was to be made to try and marry my uniquely perverse emotional responses to beloved divorced dad band The National and fucking Taylor Swift, she made an album which, if not her Nebraska, per se (I’ve come to realize that a major part of believing Taylor Swift will one day make an album I find as quietly devastating and gorgeous as Nebraska is knowing that no album will ever actually be Her Nebraska... That each will, rather, to me, be more and more evidence that it’s coming still, more proof that the limit is untouched, on and on ad infinitum, or at least until the seas take us into a place of salty peace.) is a shocking credit to all my hard-fought and deluded confidence. folklore is great. This fact has made me feel almost equally as disoriented from my understanding of the world as the time-melting COVID-19 lockdowns have, and it turned my Spotify year in review annual collective AI humiliation kink thing into a glaring indictment of my mental state, but still, I mean... It’s great.

In talking about folklore a bit this week, there are a number of specific topics I intend to cover—what a thrill it is to hear Taylor say “fuck”; Taylor’s terrifying birth chart; the astoundingly perfect bridge of “the last great american dynasty”; “because my ass is located at the back of my body”; the bit in last year’s “Lover” where deranged WASP Taylor Swift implies that to “leave the Christmas lights up til January” is some signifier of being a love-struck bohemian, when actually everyone who doesn’t employ domestic staff to take their lights down does this; how reputation is the best of the Taylor Swift records released in the latter half of the 2010s, actually, and the people who can’t see that are cowards—but intend mostly to let the muse move me where she will. Against the advice of my better angels, she—that tie-in marketing eldritch terror—always does.

#taylor swift #folklore

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jedimasterbailey · 3 years

Text

A sneak peak into a future chapter of my Barrisoka Post Order 66 fic. This is how I imagine Luminara and Barriss’s final conversation with each other before the bombing going. Below is a flashback Luminara experiences in her Imperial cell. Mom Lumi and daughter Barriss is the hill I’m going to die on. Link to the fic below if you aren’t already reading!

Flashback

They’re sending you away again, aren’t they? And I won’t be coming with you?” Barriss concludes in an annoyed tone surprising the older woman walking beside her.

Luminara had just exited the Council chambers with her next assignment. She and Master Vos were to go to the jungle world of Drongar to investigate suspicious Spearatist activity involving a medicinal plant known as bota. Quinlan was going in Barriss’s place so that she can help with the sick and injured. Barriss’s healing gift was proving itself more valuable each day as the beds continue to fill up with no end of the war in sight.

“And this frustrates you?” Luminara questions gently, sending calming waves of the Force to soothe her Padawan.

“Yes it does, actually.” Barriss answers sharply, causing Luminara to stop in her tracks.

“Barriss, this isn’t like you. What is it?” Luminara asks placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder.

Barriss chews her lip, “I’m afraid Master.”

“Of what darling?” Luminara presses with a reassuring squeeze.

“Can we go somewhere more quiet?” Barriss pleads gesturing to the many Jedi that walked past them in the halls.

Luminara nods and guides them in an empty meditation room where they could speak in private. The Jedi Master then motions for her apprentice to take a seat on one of the mats on the floor to which she complies. Once both women sat down, Luminara offers Barriss a warm smile.

“What’s on your mind Padawan mine?”

Barriss struggles to maintain eye contact, “Master... I think there’s something wrong with me.”

Luminara’s heart skipped a beat, “What do you mean? Are you feeling alright?”

Barriss slowly nods, “Yes, I just don’t want you to go. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Luminara deflates seeing how distraught her apprentice looked, “Tell me what’s on your heart Barriss. It hurts me to see you this way!”

Barriss steadies herself, “This war...it’s really taken it’s toll on me. The constant fighting, the death, it hurts me Master. I’m physically okay but every day I just feel myself slipping away. I hardly eat anymore, I can’t sleep without seeing people die... people I love...and they keep sending you away and I worry about you and...”

Barriss then broke into tears immediately causing Luminara to embrace the girl, rubbing soothing circles on her back as she cried.

“It’s okay Barriss... I’ve got you... Let it all out...”

And for several minutes thats how Master and apprentice stayed. While Barriss released her pain, Luminara sucked back tears of her own in order to stay strong for her Padawan. Since the war began, Luminara has despised Barriss’s involvement in it. She knew Barriss’s heightened sensitivity as a healer would make being deployed into battle difficult thus she considered bringing the idea of removing Barriss from the field to the Council. But Luminara knew that Barriss would not allow for it. It would undoubtedly hurt the young woman’s pride and possibly do more damage to her emotional health.

Luminara just couldn’t risk hurting Barriss in any way.

That’s why Luminara spent so much time over preparing for their missions. She wanted to do everything she can for the two of them to be successful, which is why their campaign on Geonosis was such a painful blow. Barriss was more than happy to utilize her photographic memory for an important assignment but it was Luminara’s plan that nearly cost the Padawans their lives. Had Barriss and Ahsoka perished, Luminara knew she would never forgive herself. She remained calm for Anakin, but little did the man know that she was falling apart on the inside as well. As much as her colleague wanted to deny it, Luminara didn’t want to give up on Barriss either. Losing Barriss would have shattered her beyond repair.

Barriss’s breathing then become more labored alerting her Master that a panic attack was underway.

“Breathe with me Barriss, stay with me. Deep breath through the nose in 3...2...1...” Luminara says before breathing deeply herself.

Barriss does as instructed and instantly grew calmer as she synchronized her breath with Luminara’s.

“That’s my girl...” Luminara whispers, kissing the top of Barriss’s head and combing her fingers through her hair.

After a moment of silence Barriss confesses, “There’s something I’ve been keeping from you...about the time I got possessed by the Geonosian parasite.”

Luminara winces at the memory, “Tell me...”

“There was a moment where I was lucid before I went unconscious, where the worm wasn’t speaking for me. I begged for Ahsoka to kill me and she told me she couldn’t and as grateful as I am... I remember feeling disappointed. I wanted to be free of the pain.” Barriss explains before Luminara pulls her chin upward.

Misty violet eyes locked on blue, “Do you still feel this way now?”

Barriss shakes her head, “No... but I fear it may happen again if something doesn’t change.”

Luminara cups Barriss’s cheeks, “Trust me when I say that I feel that same way you do about this war and our involvement in it. The Council isn’t always right, but I’m afraid our hands are tied on this one. It is up to us that we stand up for the millions who can’t defend themselves against evil. Remember what I told you when you kept having nightmares about Geonosis?”

Barriss smiles, “You mean about finding the light?”

Luminara beams with pride, pushing a stray bang from the girl’s face, “It’s always there like I’m always here. Barriss I love you and I promise that when this is all over, we will get you the help you need. I think it’s best we seek Minding services for you, maybe even some other treatment options too to help you cope. There is no shame is seeking help with needed my Padawan. And of course, I’d go with you because Force knows I’m not perfect either!”

The two women then shared a much needed laugh.

“Promise me something Barriss?” Luminara asks touching foreheads with her apprentice.

“Anything my Master.” Barriss says taking Luminara’s hands into her own.

“Stay strong my love and please if you need to talk do not hesitate to contact me. No matter the day or time, I will answer if I’m not in battle. You’ve been so brave through all of this and I’m so grateful you’ve opened up to me. When I come back, you will be receiving a couple tattoos for your courage. I couldn’t be more proud of you. “ Luminara professes before finishing with a proclamation Barriss could never see coming, “You will be a Knight very soon Barriss. You have grown into a far greater Jedi than I could ever hope to be. It will not be long before the Council sees you the way I see you.”

Barriss was speechless, but Luminara was able to see the happiness written all over her Padawan’s face. With another peck on the cheek, Luminara bids Barriss farewell.

“I have to get going now. Dont forget what I’ve said, I love you Barriss.”

Barriss then pulled them both up and gave Luminara the last hug the Jedi Master would ever receive from her Padawan.

“I love you too... May the Force be with you Master.”

#luminara unduli #barriss offee #barrisoka #star wars fanfiction #my work

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dopescotlandwarrior · 4 years

Text

Bluegrass-Chapter 20

A special thanks to @statell for all your help

Previous chapters on AO3

Chapter Twenty

Jamie and Jason stood on the tarmac and watched Air Horse One take off with their triple crown winner. The post-race tests of saliva and blood proved beyond a doubt that Runner won the race organically and there would be no one to contest.

“How do ye feel Jamie?”

“Very relieved.”

“You shouldn't have doubted them.”

“Don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t do, ye little upstart.”

Jason laughed at Jamie’s stern face and started walking to the taxi that would take them back to the hotel. Jamie’s phone was ringing constantly as friends called to congratulate them. Everyone felt jubilation and relief.

“How much will he get standing stud?”

“I figure around one-hundred the first year until the public knows he is fertile. After that, maybe two-hundred.”

“That doesn’t seem like much Jamie, not for a champion.”

Jamie looked at Jason, “That would be two-hundred thousand, Jason.”

Jason whistled and started doing the math. Insemination of the female had gone high tech for most of the animal breeders but not for horse racing, where the stud is required to cover the mare. During the breeding season he could cover a mare twice daily from February until early June.

“That’s like, forty-eight million dollars per year. Holy shit! Sorry.”

“Not quite. I would guess he will earn around ten million per year as a fertile stud. He won a bit over eight million with the races this year, so the racing is just the beginning. Once his offspring start winning races, especially if they make it to the Derby, it may go higher.

Jason was shocked at the number. “With money like that, you can keep me around to be his groom.”

“I had planned on selling him for stud and let someone else do all the work, but I don’t think that will happen with the Sassenach lovin him so much.”

“Train me. Teach me how to do everything and let me manage the stud part. I would love that!”

“And ye stay near yer girlfriend, aye?”

“What girlfriend?”

“Lulu, lad”

Jason stared at Jamie with wide eyes wondering what to say next. “Um, Lulu?”

“Is this a secret then? What is the mystery about?”

“I, I didn’t know if it was allowed at work.”

“Long as ye don’t date Claire, what do I care?”

Jason finally smiled and asked if he was hired as the stud manager.

”Ye really are presumptuous. Yer lucky I remember yer name every day.”

The taxi driver laughed out loud over that comment and Jason sulked. Jamie had considered training Jason if he wanted to stay but hadn’t spoken to Claire yet. That discussion would take place now that Jamie knew he wanted to stay in Kentucky.

Jamie considered the changes required to manage a standing stud. He made a mental list of products needed to build a breeding-shed, house the mares, transport them when needed, and vet services for ultrasound exams during the process. When the driver stopped in front of the hotel he was pulled from his thoughts.

Claire was ready early, as always, so Jamie suggested a cocktail at the hotel bar before they left to the airport. The race was only five hours ago and already she seemed like a different person, she looked different too. Jamie hoped she would be happy now that the racing was over.

They sat at the bar and chatted about the race. It started with one gentleman who approached them to congratulate Claire on her Triple Crown win, then another, then another, until she was surrounded by people. Claire was gracious and truly moved by the comments and those who had followed Runner’s races since early on. One man produced a ticket he bought for Runner to win. It was worth money, but he was keeping it as a souvenir.

When it became obvious that Claire’s fans were not going to leave, Jamie excused them to leave for the airport. He was so damn proud of her it was hardly containable. She had single-handedly raced the colt into superstardom. They set new track records at Chapel Hill in the Derby, as well as the Preakness, and his extraordinary record at Belmont where he beat the last record by two seconds. It was phenomenal to such a high degree Jamie had to shake his head with wonder.

Claire waved to Jason who was sitting on a couch waiting to board. He was on his cell and had a rosy glow and a smile.

“I would bet a paycheck that boy is talking to a girl.”

“Well, ye haven’t drawn a paycheck for five months, although I do owe ye seven or eight million dollars. Will ye take a check?”

“He must have a girl in New York that we have kept him from. Poor Jason.”

“Ah…Sassenach, the girl is in Kentucky.”

Claire gave him a surprised look, “who is it?”

“Lulu.”

Claire’s eyes were wide with amusement. “Who in the world could resist that little girl. How totally sweet. Jamie, where’s Michael?”

“He is staying in New York. It’s his home base and he wants to get started on the book. Sassenach?”

Claire’s eyes turned red with the sting of oncoming tears. Her attempts to stop them failed and she cried. Jamie hugged her and spoke in her ear.

“It makes ye sad, love, that the racing is over?”

“Not one bit. But we have had a team and bumped into each other for the last four months and now it’s all changing. Three days out of five Michael is snarky and yells, I certainly won’t miss that. I don’t know what’s wrong with me Jamie.”

“I do. Ye were attached at the hip for many months and now yer free. Give it a few days mo chridhe.”

Jamie pulled the armrest up, and pulled her towards him to rest. He looked down at her open eyes and figured it would take some time for her to come down from the stratosphere she was in after the race.

“Can I talk to ye about something, love?”

Claire sat up looking almost relieved to put off her nap, “of course.”

“Well, it’s come to my attention that Jason wants to stay in Kentucky, full time. I’ve been thinkin he might take to managing Runner’s breeding. It’s a lot of responsibility but he’ll have both of us to help until it’s effortless. He has a great skill with horses, he’s not afraid of anything, and I can’t do it because I’ll be callin ye home twice a day after watching that brute have his way with the lasses.”

Claire held her stomach laughing at that comment, it was music to Jamie’s ears. “What makes ye laugh Sassenach?”

She sputtered out about Jamie getting turned on by watching horses mate.

“Have ye ever seen it? Silly question. If ye had seen it before, the mere mention of the act would have ye squeezin yer thighs together and pullin me to cover ye.”

“What?”

“Oh, ya, Sassenach. It’s not for the weak. Ye see it brings out the brute in men and the surrender in women.”

Claire’s eyes were round, “what makes it so erotic for heaven’s sake.”

“Never mind Sassenach. If you care to watch when the time comes, ye best make sure I’m nearby.”

“Oh, really?”

She looked a bit heated, so Jamie dropped it. With three hours of flight time left it would become unbearable if he teased like he wanted to.

Once they were back in Kentucky, they all made their way to Runner’s wing to check on the colt. It was so quiet, not a soul in sight. Such a harsh contrast to New York with the fanfare and screaming Runner fans. Jamie hugged her and apologized for not arranging a loud welcome home.

“So, lass, we find ourselves with a few hours to kill. Are ye ready to hear the rest of the breedin story? Mind ye, there are a lot of details about bitin, and grabbin, and thrustin.”

Claire exhaled out of open lips and eyes half-lidded, “yes, I can’t wait to hear the rest.”

Jamie was feeling he might not make it home without pulling her into the long grass, so they took the truck and stripped on their way to the shower. It took all of Jamie’s strength not to take her under the flowing water. That is not how one loves a Triple Crown winner, so he held himself back.

He dried her with fluffy towels and spread scented oil into her skin. When he rubbed near her nipples, she opened her mouth to facilitate heavier breathing. When he got between her legs, she watched him with rapturous eyes and a ramming heart. He led her to the bed and pushed her back on pillows against the headboard watching her watch him. He pulled her legs open and licked her bud with a warm wet tongue. Just once, then leaned on his elbow. It was storytime.

“The breeding shed I will build is for one purpose only, hot sex with a stallion. The mare’s estrus will drive him mad with lust until he will dispatch anyone who gets between them.” Jamie ran his flat palm over the skin of her legs and stomach. He bites her tail until she moves it aside, letting him sniff and lick her. She wants him, her pussy is flowing with her need that puddles between her back legs, and he goes wild and pushes his face into her.” Jamie ran his tongue over her throbbing bud for one minute and then he moved toward her breasts. ”He needs to bite her because it gets him ready. She wouldn’t stand for it normally, but she wants him like a thousand fires are burning in her pussy.” Claire was breathing hard and trying to touch him only to have her hands brought back to her sides. “When he mounts her, the extraordinary energy in the way he loves her carries most people off to find their partner and beg them to stop the throbbing.”

Claire’s eyes had glazed over and she was panting. Jaime pulled her to her hands and knees, entering her from behind and thrusting with power enough to make her orgasm, shaking her way back to earth.

“Ye looked a bit undone, love. Now we slow it down.”

He led her in and out of the heights of ecstasy, making his demands for her mouth and body until she was clinging to his shoulders begging him to finish her. He was holding back so fiercely it was easy to let it go when she did, and they blasted off together.

Jamie was slick with sweat when he held her close and made sure she dropped into the void. She needed to rest after such an exciting day, and he could tell she surrendered to her exhaustion. He laid back and finally allowed himself to think about their extraordinary future. In a few short months, Claire had taken him from dependence on Dunsany to a man of means, incredible means. He would pay off his debt after the first breeding season. He couldn’t wait.

The next day, Claire rested in bed or on the couch and ate the lunch Jamie prepared for them reminding her of their dinner at her house, a long time ago. He brought a tray with two bowls of Tomato soup and gooey cheese sandwiches. They dipped the sandwiches in the soup and ate with sounds of pure enjoyment. Once they were pleasantly stuffed, Jamie got behind her and held her to him until she was deep in sleep again. She would need strength and endurance to enjoy the night ahead.

“Where are we going, Jamie?”

“To the aquarium, love.”

Claire was thrilled with his choice and slipped into a short black dress with lace top stockings and very high heels. Her hair was straight and gleaming with the light. Her makeup was exotic and sexy. When they walked out to the truck, it had been washed and waxed.

It was the same exciting experience when they pulled up to the canopy walkway behind the aquarium. Jamie tossed the keys to the valet and walked into the building. Claire looked straight up to see what form of sea life was swimming above them. When she looked down again, she stopped in her tracks and gasped.

Molly smiled at her from a long table crowded with gifts, candles, and the faces of her twenty closest friends that had come together for her bridal shower. With some financial assistance from Jamie, Molly had pulled the surprise shower together, which was also doubling as a winner’s party tonight. Jamie turned her to him and kissed her forehead.

“I’ll be back to get you when you call, love. This is girls only.”

The waiters served sumptuous platters of meats, roasted vegetables, salads, and pasta. The women could not stop eating or drinking because the platters never stopped coming. When they had eaten all they could, the serving staff set up a very large screen and a slide projector. When the women were settled the slide show started and the girls laughed and commented, calling out the special features of each resort.

Jamie had collected slides of six resorts for their honeymoon by copying from the resort website and having the pictures converted. He started the project after putting Claire’s engagement ring on the second time. It turned into a labor of love that he attended to almost daily while she trained. He was excited to share the honeymoon possibilities with the people close to her.

Claire was all smiles as the girls ooh and ahh’ed. After the thirty-minute slide show, Molly called for a vote and told Claire she had total veto power and could go where she wanted. It was a tie between Tahiti and Bora Bora.

The gifts were piled in front of Claire who was absolutely delighted with beautiful lingerie, silk stockings, beachwear, and fancy items for entertaining. Claire reached for a large square gift that was leaning against the table. It felt like a picture and as the paper came off she saw a perfectly framed, focused, picture of she and Runner crossing the finish line of the Kentucky Derby. The photographer was infield capturing Claire, Runner, the packed stands and the twin spires. She was so surprised to see a huge smile on her face. She didn’t remember smiling at that moment, too busy hanging on to him she thought. The girls were thrilled with the picture and spoke of her win reverently. Claire looked at the attached card. It was from Nosh, “Happy bridal shower, I look forward to the rest of the story.”

Claire struggled to keep her tears at bay and the last gift was her undoing. Hope laid a gift on her lap and said it was from all of them. It was a cookbook with a separate chapter from each of them, including pictures of time spent with Claire, what the dishes look like, and special wishes to their friend. It unleashed a flood of tears as she hugged each one of them.

When Claire sat down, she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Jamie smiling. A waiter stood at the table with shots for the women and their men who were invited for the end to toast the future bride and groom.

Dusty hugged Claire warmly and wished her the very best life. He added how deserving she was of unending happiness. Jason hugged her as well and she watched him navigate back to Lulu. When she saw a young man with Molly her eyebrows went up and she searched Molly’s face. The man leaned a hand across the table and introduced himself as Doctor Martin Young, DVM. Claire realized that Molly was dating her boss and looked quite happy about the budding romance. They ordered another round of shots for those who would indulge. The waiter came back with three men who stood with hands clasped behind their back, looking at the floor.

“The chefs have asked to meet you, Triple Crown winner.”

Claire stood and shook each of their hands, gushing about the food and thanking them. She recognized an Italian accent, but the other two men she couldn’t guess. They each asked three questions and thanked her, looking at the picture as they left.

Jamie’s arm went around her waist and he kissed her cheek.

“Ye alright, love?”

“You just wait until I get you home, mister.” What sounded like an invitation to fight was revealed as something quite different in her eyes. Jamie pulled at his collar and tie, suddenly quite heated.

It was a spectacular party with every detail planned out by Jamie and Molly. Claire was so touched as she hugged everyone goodbye, including the wait staff. She pressed her hands against the glass and two Beluga whales were there to say goodbye, one had a baby swimming close. She smiled at them and turned around to leave.

“That is her sister, and she is pregnant now too. I must leave a note for the manager about her condition. I sense she is deficient in calcium and magnesium which could harm the baby.” Claire wrote her note while she spoke to Jamie and handed it to a waiter on their way out.

If the aquarium had been just ten miles closer to the compound, they would have made it home. The extra ten miles gave Claire time to kiss her way to Jamie’s zipper where she took advantage of his occupation with driving until he turned sharply into the woods and stripped her bare before looking at her like the prize she was.

When they were pressed together, both slick with sweat and panting, they hardly had the strength to disengage. Jamie ran his hand up her naked back and wanted to tell her everything in his heart, but instead, he heard a metallic knock on the window making Claire jump out of her skin.

They heard it again followed by the officer’s irritated voice.

“Get dressed and step outside the truck or I pull you both out in two minutes.”

“Jesus Jamie, are we going to jail?”

“I don’t think so, love, but do hurry and get dressed so I don’t have to hurt the man just doing his job.”

“What?”

Claire looked at the ground as she handed her license to the officer. Jamie stared him right in the eye and felt no fear of arrest.

“Your names sound so familiar, ah Christ, repeat offenders, you people disgust me.”

The officer was reaching for his handcuffs when Jamie pulled his ace.

“Certainly not officer, first and last time I assure you. We’ve been so busy winning horse races, well, she has been, we were overcome with some alone time finally. Our names are familiar because Claire won the Triple Crown on Midnight Runner yesterday.”

Jamie had been in Kentucky long enough to know these were good people who were proud of their heritage and state. The officer froze and looked up at Claire. He took her hand and shook it while his face softened and he smiled.

“Thank you, for what you’ve done for the state of Kentucky ma’am. It’s an honor to meet you and you broke the law, but I can’t charge you. Midnight Runner is bred here and that will bring interest and money into this state for a very long time.”

He looked at Jamie, “you, on the other hand, should know better and you’re going to jail. Is this your husband ma’am?”

“No, uh, he is the breeder and owner of Midnight Runner, actually.”

The man’s head jerked up and Jamie thought he might pass out when the blood ran out of his face. The officer shook his hand and smiled before running to his cruiser coming back with his regulation pocket-sized notebook.

“No jail time for either of you. It was such an honor meeting you both. Can I get your autograph…please? Oh, my name is Jack.”

‘To Kentucky’s finest, thank you, Jack.’ Both autographs were below the sentence and the officer looked at his notepad like it was suddenly made of gold. He made haste getting his cruiser out of their way and waved out the window. Jamie laughed for the next five miles toward home. Claire was just thankful she wasn’t in jail. By the time they parked the truck at home, Claire was scratching her itchy bumps until she bled.

She hopped to the door so she could keep itching her leg. When Jamie looked at her under the porch light his eyes got wide and he picked her up and carried her inside. Claire had mosquito bites up and down her legs, both arms, chest, and face. Her little black dress and stockings did nothing to protect her while the officer detained them outside, in the dark, where she was feasted upon.

Jamie felt so sorry for her which she would never believe because he couldn’t stop laughing. After a shower, he counted two hundred and twenty-three bites before he covered her in calamine lotion. Once the lotion was dry, towels were laid on the bed and Claire laid on her back like a corpse. Jamie tried to kiss her goodnight but even her lips were pink, so he busied himself, quite unsuccessfully, with trying not to laugh.

Claire stayed inside for the next two days, repeatedly applying calamine lotion and doing her time until the bites were gone. Each morning Jason would greet Runner with his chipper hello, and later Jamie would give his daily hug and sugar cube. Neither of them could hear his continuous questions about Claire. Where is she, does she want to race, why isn’t she here, can we race now, I miss her, I am fearful.

Runner wouldn’t eat his dinner on what was his third day without seeing Claire. He whinnied and paced, kicked at the door and corral bars and refused to go outside during his favorite time of the day. Jamie told him he would bring Claire back to see him but Runner could not understand him.

“Sassenach, I need ye to come to the barn, Runner is having some distress and ye need to have a look.”

Claire stood up, ready to go with her pink patches remaining on the bumps that still itched. She didn’t care. She pulled Jamie toward the truck and then went straight to Runner’s stall. He was pacing with sweat running down his back and neck. When she walked around the corner he whinnied and pushed his chest into the bars to smell her, tracking her to the stall door as she came to hug him. He dropped his head and pressed into her back to get her closer as he nickered to her. Angus walked up behind a watching Jamie and shook his head.

“Any thought of sellin him to stud is just not gonna happen Jamie boy.”

Claire looked at Runner and said, “of course you can.” Then she opened the stall door and walked out with Runner right behind her. Jamie’s eyes were wide with alarm because Runner had no halter or lead. He held his breath and followed, along with Angus, as she led the colt out to the big pasture where he could gallop his stress away, toss his head with his tail in the air. He ran toward Claire at a murderous speed cutting to the right two feet in front of her. She didn’t flinch but called to Angus to bring Porcelain Love out to run with him. Angus almost fainted when Runner charged her, and his heart was still racing as he led Porcelain out. Once her halter was pulled off, she reared up on her back legs spinning her body toward the open pasture and took off. Angus said something about late for dinner and left quickly.

Jamie held is hand out to Claire and they walked to their favorite spot on the fence where they could see the sun setting and two magnificent horses celebrate being alive.

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Two Drops of Rain.”

Alright you pseudo-sadistic people out there.

Lets be honest, we all sort of like watching authors emotionally torture their own characters, and lets also be honest that authors can sometimes be super mean to their creations.

Well I have decided that, in my universe, actions have real psychological, emotional and physical consequences. So, I am going to have to be the bad guy and be a little mean for this one.

Expect character development, and light suffering.

A droplet of rain clung to the glass of the window reflecting an inverted view of the sullen grey sky. It hung suspended there for a few seconds, capturing a moment in its surface, before rupturing and rolling downward disrupting other droplets and causing them to bleed downwards. The rain was heavy enough that the grassy compound outside was covered by a layer of grey. Water droplets lept from the concrete creating a silver haze about the ground, and anything past the distant shadow of buildings on the other side of the square was nothing more than a silhouette perhaps a lamp post, or a lone car hunched in the rain.

He raised his hand to the glass, the warmth of his fingers casting a delicate glaze of fog over the transparent surface before his fingers even made contact.

“Adam.”

He tilted his head back watching as a pair of droplets began to roll down the outside of the glass. He watched them intently wondering which one of them would win. At first it seemed like the droplet on the left would, but ultimately it’s speed caused it to lose too much weight, and it got stuck halfway to the ground.

“Adam.”

He turned away from the window distracted from his daydreams and brought back to current reality; A white cinder block room, with industrial grey carpet and modern grey furniture accented in blue. Large tropical prints hung on one side of the room fake and grey in the cold light of early spring. A large desk sat opposite cheep steel and wood crouched under an equally cheap set of metal shelving units supporting long lines of fake, leather-bound volumes letters printed in minute gold or silver script up their spines.

The entire right wall was made up of floor to ceiling glass windows allowing in the thin dreary light cast through the clouds above. On the desk a small glass orb contained a self sustaining biome including a colorful pink sea plant and a single shrimp-like creature. Next to that was a family photograph lovingly dusted of grime, but somehow equally lifeless as the tropical prints on the wall.

A large green plant sat next to him.

It was real, he had already checked.

“Adam?

“Hmm.”

“I was asking if you had been feeling better since our last session?” The woman who sat in front of him was older, with short steel-grey hair, and a delicate pink white scar running over one of her eyes across valleys of sagging skin. Despite that, she was quite fit for her age, and sat with a hard straight-back demeanor that belied her surprisingly gentle manner.

“I….” He paused looking out the window again trying to track single raindrops as they pelted towards the ground and failing. He sighed, “Not really, no.”

“Do you think you can try and tell me what’s bothering you?” He could hear the rain pounding against the bushes outside the window. It was a distant sound like static or the roaring of a crowd.

“I wish I could.” The chair below him creaked slightly. It wasn’t exactly comfortable;industrial and hard, but he didn’t mind that so much. He wasn’t here to be comfortable; he had come here to get help.

“You mentioned before that you were having trouble sleeping, trouble concentrating, and that was affecting your work. Is it still?”

He shifted in his seat, and below him, Waffles, his dog, rolled onto her other side service vest creaking slightly as she sighed, “No ... the sleeping isn’t much better, and I think I’ve made it pretty clear that my concentration is still shot.” He tried pointedly to look away from the window.

The rain picked up a little, “And what exactly is it that you think about during those times.” She wondered

He thought for a minute, “Nothing mostly. Sort of just on autopilot you know…. It’s easier there, like I don’t have to think so much.”

Her shiny black shoe bounced softly in the air, “So thinking has been difficult, or do you find yourself thinking about something specific that you’re trying to avoid.”

He rubbed a hand against his temple, “I… a little bit of both I guess. Um… Its like every time I try to think about something, something I really need to think about. My thoughts just keep coming back to…. To what happened.”

She tilted her head slightly focused, intently, but no so intently as to be uncomfortable, on him, “You have yet to talk about what happened.”

He remained silent.

“You don’t have to say anything today if you aren’t ready, but I think it's important, and I think you think it’s important, otherwise we wouldn’t be seeing these obsessive sort of thoughts.” her hands swirled to emphasise the repetitive nature. A silver ring glinted on her finger.

“I guess I’ve just been…. Trying to figure things out…... “

“Don’t feel obligated to push yourself. We can wait as long as you need.” A clock ticked on the wall above her desk filling the silence.. It seemed as if it would go on forever.

“I watched a man get beaten to death, and did nothing to stop it…..” His voice was sudden filling the silence of the room with a sudden heavy weight. His heartbeat picked up as if saying the words made the reality more tangible, but now it was out in the air, he found the words sliding from his mouth easy where they had once been halting, “I watched a man die…. I knew he was going to die….. I knew hours in advice hell eighteen maybe nineteen hours. At any time I could have gotten up and walked over to the guards and told them what was going to happen, but I didn’t. I could have gone to his cell and warned him, I could have told him to run when he entered the room. Hell, I could have jumped in front of him, but I didn’t do any of it.” HIs voice had risen in cadence and octaves filling the space with it’s agitation. At his feet, Waffles sat up sensing his unease turning her head to look at him, “But you know what…. You know what I did, I sat there and did NOTHING, in fact I did worse than nothing. He’s no friend of mine, that’s what I said. I looked him in the eye and that’s what I said knowing what was going to happen to him. Like an absolute BITC-.”

“Why.” her voice was stern, and the expression on her face made it very clear he was escalating out of line. He relaxed back into his seat breathing hard. His heart hammered inside his head drowning out the sound of the rain.

“Why what?”

“Why do you think you didn’t do those things.” Waffles whimpered a bit sticking her head in his lap. He hadn’t even noticed that he was ringing his hands, a habit that he had acquired after losing his leg. It generally didn’t go past that, but once upon a time it had been a precursor to hair pulling, something that Waffles had been trained to stop.

“Because I’m A B-”

“Adam.” She said sternly, “A decision is a matter of cognition, not of a personality trait. So let’s be a little more constructive. Tell me what you were thinking.”

He sighed deeply in frustration, glancing out the window again. He couldn’t even see the light post or the car from earlier. The bushes outside the window jumped and rattled rather violently under the downpour, “At first I…. I felt sick…. I wished I was anywhere but there, I wondered if it was actually real….. I wondered why this was happening to me, and how I could make this sort of decision….. And then. After all that I was, I was ...”

She waited, but when no answer was forthcoming she prodded gently, “You were….”

“Angry…. No, no angry isn’t strong enough. I was livid, furious… i….” He felt his throat constrict, “I wanted to…. I wanted.” His voice cracked and he looked away. Tears had sprung to his eyes, and he furiously tried to blink them back angry at himself. Waffles whimpered and scooted forward against his legs resting her big soft head in his lap large brown eyes looking up at him with a deep unwavering concern not understanding his pain but begging to take it away, “ I wanted to Kill him.” He finally finished voice barely above a whisper, “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life, I wanted to go down there myself and strangle the life out of him. I thought about…. About bashing his head against the concrete. I wondered what it would be like to feel his skull caving in under my hands….” He went quiet, “Disgusting.”

“Adam,” her voice was soft but firm, “ in all my years of working, I have heard people want to do a lot more for a lot less, but why don’t you tell me why you felt that way.”

Waffles shoved her snout against his hand. He had been rubbing his chest, another habit he had as a result of PTSD, a condition long dormant now resurfacing, “Number one because he was a pedophile, number two because he was a liar, number three because I know for a fact he planned on going back to his old life after getting out. He had no remorse….. He deserved to die.”

“If that’s the case than he got what he deserved didn’t he?” She wondered tilting her head to the side.

He shook his head vigorously then nodded then sighed in frustration, “yes… I…. i mean no….. No one deserves to die like…. Like that, but ...I mean maybe he did, but that wasn’t their choice to make.” He finally blurted

“So, he deserved to die, but he deserved to die as a result of justice, and not as a result of a prison riot.” The rain had died down just a bit. Distantly a momentary beam of sunlight peeked through the clouds before vanishing once again.

Adam sighed, “YES! That's it…. The justice system is supposed to take care of this, but it didn't ...”

“Then why do you feel responsible if it was the justice systems’ job?”

He stroked Waffle’s ears foot tapping in agitation, “I…. well because I AM the justice system. Not like to be a dick or brag, but out in space, I am the arm of the UNSC, Fleet commander. It is my job to deal with human issues offworld, so when the justice system fails it's MY duty to fix it. My job, my objective ...”

“So it was your job to save this man’s life so he could be properly punished?”

“Well, yes.” he rocked in his seat again, agitated, “But I didn’t. I sat there and I did nothing, and you know what. I LIKED it, a part of me enjoyed watching that bastard die. He deserved it…..” A sudden stab of guilt shot through him, and he groaned rocking softly as he lifted his head to the ceiling eyes catching onto porous surface of the panels above. His eyes burned. His voice began to crack again, “But, but then, then when I remember feeling bad for him, and it just makes me feel WORSE because he hurt kids, he was a monster, and I have pity for him! SO does that mean I’m siding with a pedophile? So…. so it was either give in and kill him with the rest of them like he deserved treat him like the monster he is…. Or or I could stand to the side and absolve myself of the murder, but do nothing and still have his blood on my hands, but also have the knowledge that I showed that disgusting fuck mercy when he didn’t deserve it. Either way I…..” His voice caught. He could feel his stomach contracting into a sob, but he forced it down head in his hands.

The room went silent, and waffles jammed her head in between his hands forcing him to quit as his hands sought out fistfuls of hair. His chest and diaphragm contracted and released but he clenched his teeth and shut his eyes. He wouldn’t cry here…. He had been weak enough.

It took a long time before he was finally able to control himself and sit back up. He had gone very hot, and could feel waves of heat wash over him from the effort .

When he looked up he found a glass of water being proffered to him, and he took unable to look at her.

“Adam, it is horrible that you had to make that decision. You have to understand that no matter what you did in that situation would have resulted in the same outcome.” He may have gotten control of his breathing, but he had worn far to thin, far to thin in the intervening weeks. He pointedly looked away feeling hot tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

His face remained blank.

“You join in, you’ve committed murder, you stand out, and you’ve let a man die, you run to the guards and you protect a pedophile. There was no decision you could have made that would have resulted in a desirable outcome… Tell me, Adam, Do you really think that anything you could have done would have saved that man’s life?”

He wasn’t able to stop it as a hot tear spilled down the side of his face. He kept his head turned only halfway towards her so as to hide the moisture. He rested his head against his hand so as to discreetly wipe it away, “No …” he finally admitted.

“Go through that with me.”

More tears. He fought desperately to keep the one eye dry as moisture pooled against his hand.

“Because I couldn’t have fought them all off even if I had tried, and the guards would have just let it happen anyway, but I could hav-”

“Could have what? Adam, you did what you could. You stood back to the hazard of your own health so as not to be part of something you didn’t believe in. You couldn’t stop it, and you couldn’t walk away, and that in itself is more than what a lot of people could, or would have done. A lot of people would have joined in to save their own skin.” It had grown darker outside, and he could see his reflection in the glass of the window. His black eye had long since faded but, Krill still urged him to rest as a result of bruising to his right kidney. At least he had only peed blood the one time.

“But I ... that's not, not the problem.” He shifted in his seat, and the dog scooted closer again, “I wanted to do those things, I wanted to join in, I couldn’t stop them.” His voice was growing in pitch again, and as it did the tears only flowed faster. They began to trickle down his forearm, and soon his other eye was overcome. He tried to wipe them away, but they wouldn’t stop. He was fighting a losing battle, and that only made him angier, and that only made the tears worse “Every d-damn t-time I fuck up…. I…. I-I'm weak and useless an-n-nd-” he snarled in frustration embarrassed and unable to look her in the eye, “I s-screw up so m-much, childish, o-over e-em-motional like a stupid, w-winey t-trusting-”

“Adam.”

“B-bit-”

“Adam!” Her voice cut through his rant leaving his silent. He turned away from her no longer able to control himself embarrassed. He just wanted to leave to never have to show his face to anyone ever again.

“First of all we are going to stop that sort of talk right now. It’s pointless, meaningless and it will get us nowhere. Now, do me a favor and take a few deep breaths and calm yourself. Finish the glass of water.”

He did as told still not looking at her. Waffles licked at the tears on his hands so eager to help him wash away the evidence. He finished off the water which helped a little to calm his diaphragm. He took a long slow, shaky breath.

“Would you like to continue this session another time?” She asked, “I can see this is hard?”

He shook his head stubbornly though he still couldn't look at her.

She sat back in her seat accepting his go ahead “Second of all, whose standards are you holding yourself to.. Who expects such impossible perfection, honestly if you expected any more from yourself, you may as well wish to walk on water too.” He allowed a rueful smile to break through on that last part though it was half hearted.

“Where are you getting these grand ideas of what you have to be?”

He leaned his elbows on his knees and stared down at the floor rubbing the back of his palm over his face. The eyepatch felt sort of cold and slimy now…. He was a mess.

“I…. Guess I don’t know.” He said softly.

“Your parents, family, crew members? How have they been acting towards you?”

He shrugged, “All surprisingly supportive…. Too supportive.” Waffles poked her head up under his arms resting her head against the side of his face scooting forward knowing he was upset desperate to make it go away. Her tail beat against the floor once and then twice.

“Too supportive. How can they be too supportive.”

He paused mouth opening and closing in confusion before sighing in frustration dropping his head; the one eye began to leak again, stupid missing eye which still had tear ducts, “I guess it just feels like…. They all expected me to…. Fall apart, and I did. Its like they understand that poor little Adam Vir wasn’t going to be able to handle what happened, so lets walk on eggshells so as not to upset him.” his voice was growing thick again. Ever time he broke, the edge got closer, and there was no way to hold it back.

“And what’s so wrong with letting yourself fall apart? Sometimes it happens, sometimes it needs to happen.”

He was back to where he was before, accept the tears fell silently now his voice remaining surprisingly calm, “Because it’s weak.”

“That’s a pretty antiquated understanding of emotion. Sounds like something a man from the 2000s would say.”

He said nothing, “Who do you model yourself after, Adam?

He sighed, “My father, I guess, Captain Kelly, my mother, my older brothers…. I guess maybe a little bit from…..movies.”

Her voice was soft, “Sounds like a lot to live up to doesn't it, and let's be honest. Not all of it is entirely true to life.” On the far wall the clock ticked, “You ask me that sounds pretty exhausting.” A distant rumble of thunder rolled across the open lawn. Wind picked up causing the leaves on the bushes to dance.

“Do you think maybe you feel the way you do because it seems you can't live up to the expectations you set for yourself?”

He remained quiet.

“Weak liable to break or give way under pressure; easily damaged.” She read aloud, “Now I find it interesting how a man who claims to be weak walks into my office on the coattails of a trauma and, instead of talking about the trauma he talks about his moral dilemma. He doesn't complain, he doesn't blame. He takes the weight of responsibility for an entire universe on his shoulders.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit late for platitudes, doc.” he muttered staring down at his hands.

“Not platitudes, Adam. Observations.” She switched her crossed ankles, “So we know you aren't weak, and you can probably tell me why you aren't useless.” A car’s headlights cut through the rain illuminating a burst of light over the edge of the leaves. When she didn’t speak he sighed.

“I’m not useless because I command an entire fleet of ships, I was a decorated fighter pilot, I do all these things etc.etc.” His voice was flat and monotone. Another slow tear dropped to the floor creating a dark circle on the grey carpet. He knew what was coming next, so he continued, “I’m not stupid or winy or a bitch, but…. I DO make lots of mistakes, I am childish, to trusting and over emotional.”

“What mistakes?”

He wiped at his eyes again. Waffles whimpered quietly her head on his knee, “Well, I’ve been cheated by a Tesraki, almost got my crew killed, Trusted an enemy and almost got my crew killed, trusted a strange alien species and almost got my crew killed, lost my eye and almost died, got captured more times than I can count, almost died more times than I can count.”

The rain was coming down in sheets again. The drops which had once dotted the window now ran down in curtains, “Adam, Trust isn’t a weakness, and mistakes don’t correlate to failure. You are dealing with an entirely new species, new problems. If you didn’t make those mistakes then someone else would have to, and who knows, for them it may actually be fatal. Almost dead and very dead are separated by miles.”

More headlights.

“It ok to hold yourself to high standards Adam, it's generally a good thing, but don’t set it so high that no one can reach.” Light was fading outside and she stood from her chair prompting him to do the same. Waffles yawned and stretched. A streak of lightning rolled across the sky like the branches of some sort of celestial tree.

He wiped at his eye again finally turning his head up to look at her.

She was smiling at him, a genuine smile, not fake or pitious, “I think we really got somewhere today leave it on a positive note?”

He nodded, and she walked him to the door, “Homework, go easy on yourself this week, ok.” The door opened, he thanked her and then walked into the hall bright with the overhead lights and the same steel grey carpet as inside the office. He steered Waffles down the hall and into the men’s restroom, vacant accept for himself under the sickly fluorescent lights.

It was late.

His gate felt unsteady and his hands braced himself upright against cold porcelain.

He learned forward over the sink to splash cold water on his face pulling off the eyepatch and washing it off before pulling it back over his vacant socket. He lifted his head and stared at himself in the mirror, messy blond hair, red puffy eyes and cheeks. But As he looked, a different face stared back at him, greying skin, yellowed sclera, and cerulean blue irises.

He had yet to tell her about that issue.

He turned away from the mirror and stepped from the bathroom into the hall.

Their car was waiting outside, but despite that, the two of them were still soaked by the time they jumped inside

Rain drummed against the car windows. He rested his cheek against the glass eye closed against the cold on his skin. It felt good…. He was quiet, and inside he felt strangely fragile like a cracking porcelain sculpture. Lightning flashed across the sky, and Waffles sighed her upper body resting in his lap lower half sitting under the dashboard. The windshield wipers drummed out a steady beat against the glass. He didn’t speak with the Driver, but paid him electronically and stepped from the car upon reaching their destination.

Wet tires against wet concrete, and he was left to push through the rain, jacket pulled up against the cold.

The interior of the ship was dark. Most of the crew had gone on leave. He walked through the dark halls alone, and imagined he could hear the drumming of the rain against the hull, but knew that wasn’t likely. He was just passing by the mess hall pausing when he heard laughter and saw a warm yellow light cut across the floor. The warm voices seemed to pull him in as the marines talked laughing and joking, but he couldn;t do it, couldn't make himself go in.

Once upon a time he wouldn’t have imagined missing an opportunity to socialize, but instead he turned to the dark hallways heart heavy. He had no idea where his feet were carrying him.

Sunny sat up at the knock on her door called from her worried musings by the hesitant knock. She wondered what the marines wanted now. With the Commander out for the day and most of the bridge crew gone, it remained up to her to keep the Marines in tact, which was a surprisingly difficult job to maintain.

“Come in!” She called

The door hissed open, and she was momentarily blinded by light throwing her hand up to find a silhouette standing in the doorway. It stepped in and the door snicked shut behind him.

Adam stood in the doorway, his body and hair damp with rain, his face with saline. His hands hung cold and white at his sides. Little tracts of water pooled around his boots and glistened on his jacket. His ears were flushed pink with the cold.

She stood slowly and quietly as if worried a sudden movement might scare him away. He hadn’t spoken more than a few words to her in what seemed like years, but was more like a week or two. His usually bright green eye was awash with a cold greyness, as if the cloudy sky above and seeped into his soul, but a closer inspection gave her the distinct impression of…..

Pleading?

“Sunny….” His voice was a soft rasp, thick and heavy like he was speaking past a great weight.

She missed him.

“Adam…. Is everything ok?”

His mouth twitched, his cheek quivered, his jaw worked for a long moment like he was fighting with himself internally. It looked painful, and was hard to watch. When his voice came, it came with a slight quiver, “No…. I…. its been…. A really shit day.”

She wanted to move forward, to help him, but she knew like a man drowning, he would need to reach for the help before she could pull him in. Didn’t mean she wanted to watch him drown, choking and gasping for air.

His expression was distant and glassy speaking past her more than to her, “She says I hold myself to standards that are too high.” Sunny remained quiet waiting, drawing him out, “But WHY are the standards too high? Why am I expected to fail….. WHY Does everyone have to be so understanding. Why can’t it be just what it looks like, yes Adam you fucked up and what you did was wrong and you failed. What is wrong with that?” The human looked up at her eye glistening with the vestiges of agony, “Why can’t the bar be set high….. sometimes , sometimes people just fail, and that's the truth of it. Why can’t we admit that. Why can’t anyone look me in the eye AND TELL ME THAT.” His voice was hoarse .

“Why do I have to be so accepting….. It just…. It feels like giving up. Like giving up on the man I’ve always wanted to be.”

“You wouldn’t give up, Adam….. Even if you were capable of it.” She said softly

Hed breathed in heavily air catching in his throat, “Why can’t I do this better….” he threw his hands up in the air.

“Because…. You’re only human.”

“Being human ISN’T AN EXCUSE ANYMORE!” His voice rattled off the hull reverberating through the metal. His voice snapped completely and he sagged back against the wall hand to his throat. She couldn’t stand it anymore, she couldn't watch him drown.

So she jumped in pushed past the current to catch him. He sagged against her as she fought back the current threatening to pull him under.

“How do you do it, Sunny.” he whispered

“Do what?” She wondered.

“I can’t even fight off failure when everyone is at my back…..you….. You did it and the entire world was at your heels……”

The ship was quiet, simply the soft whirr of the backup generators to pierce the quiet, “When I was young, my brother taught me one valuable lesson. He told me, Sunny stop trying to be something you’re not and may never be, but take what you have and be the best version of the person you are now…. I didn’t listen to him for the longest time…. And I suffered for it.”

She took the Human’s face in two of her hands and made him look up at her, “Maybe you can set the bar high, Adam, but you have to make sure the bar is in the same room. Because if you weren't so trusting, and if you didn’t make mistakes….. Than you would have kicked me off the ship as soon as I walked on”

Lights reflected from his eyes and she dragged, pulled him towards shore with all her might. Her voice was soft, “So I say be damned to being perfect….. Let's be honest, it's not exactly a human trait anyway.”

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honestgrins · 4 years

Text

Resonant || Klaroline

Inspired by the world of Onward, where technology edged magic out of daily existence because all creatures learned to adapt to a new life. Caroline might have taken the DNA test, but she doesn’t take her magical origins nearly as seriously as some people. Klaus, however, takes his birthright and the power it lends very, very seriously - but why would he kidnap an elf?

"I don't know what you want from me," Caroline snarled, her wrists raw from fighting her bonds. "But I do know this is not the way to go about it." The chair was cold through the thin silk of her dress, an excellent dress her date so didn't deserve. "Seriously, let me go, Nik. This isn't funny."

He pulled another chair from the edge of the cell where she awoke, tied up and confused. Twirling it before her, he straddled the seat to rest his arms on the back as he watched her with a gleeful smile. "Perhaps, now is the time to tell you my name isn't Nik. Not technically."

The laugh she let out was harsh. "Surprise, the guy who drugged me during dinner isn't who he said he was. I don't give a fuck, let me go."

"No, I think I'll keep you," he answered, amusement all too clear in his voice. "That is, unless you can free yourself. Then, I'm willing to negotiate terms."

She gave another jerk against her ties, but the metal cord obviously held. "How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

Smirking, Not Technically Nik traced his bottom lip with his thumb. "I trust you'll figure it out. Until then, let me introduce myself. Niklaus Mikaelson, at your service."

"Really crappy service," she spat, only quailing when her brain caught up with the bomb he just dropped. Horror dawned on her slowly as she saw him watching her with great interest. Not only had she been kidnapped - she'd been kidnapped by the Original Hybrid out to set a new world order.

Magic had always been an accepted part of the world. Gnomes, elves, wizards, and so much more, everyone had their origins and lived as they chose. Specialized knowledge was shared through the generations, lovingly passed down to children and nurtured the necessary skills as they grew. Little ones were taught all the lore for such a world of wonder.

And then, the advancement of technology caught up. Wings were traded for sensible, mid-size sedans, and sorcery gave way to invention. The world became connected in a way it never was before, and all creatures adapted to new common goals until magic eased itself out of existence. Lore was still taught, mostly, though some stories had been forgotten, lost to time as populations mingled. The knowledge was generalized, until schools only taught the big points, nuance and details only so important as they appeared on standardized tests.

So, magic existed - at one point. The last vestiges only remained among those who trained in the skills their ancestors once held as a sacred practice. All creatures could be dangerous if they chose to be, and most people had a wide range of lineages to choose from in their quest for some ancient power. Bonnie had bought Caroline one of those DNA tests the year before; she presented and lived as an elf her whole life, it was kind of a kick to learn she was three percent centaur. "Maybe that's why I had a horse phase growing up," she had joked.

But Klaus Mikaelson was staring at her with greed, and she didn't think it had to do with a penchant for pony tails and killer legs.

The news was always talking about the underground revolution inspired by the Original Hybrid. Rumor had it he was cursed by a witch, his werewolf genes bound and useless. He was left to fend for himself when a rogue vampire attacked him. They were drawn to the healing arts, their need for fresh blood often a handy currency for those with terrible or no insurance. But when they were hungry, it could get ugly. For Klaus, though, the turn was particularly traumatic. Finding the witch who cursed him, he killed her to release his werewolf side, which allowed him to become something entirely new and untested in the world.

That last half was confirmed, Klaus himself having spread the story far and wide as his many surrogates tried to recruit new blood to his cause - to return to the natural state of magic until the world respected all species for the danger they posed. Caroline thought it was a resistance-flavored attempt at elitist elimination of diverse families, and she usually turned the TV off whenever some outlet dared to grant the monster some legitimacy and a chance to reach new ears. If she'd waited a bit longer, she might have recognized his face when he showed up on her dating app.

She'd been so excited for this date. He was charming and funny, a little acerbic, but she liked that mixed into her banter. He seemed like the perfect guy for her, passionate about his art. If only she'd known he was passionate about magical dominion over the entire world, then she might have tempered her expectations.

As he watched her every expression, though, she wondered why he went to such trouble. There was no need to sit through an entire dinner with her, to flirt with her and make her feel seen. It had been going really well, yet he had to have slipped her something for her to wake up in an actual dungeon. Who had a dungeon?

Biting her lip, there were too many other things that didn't make sense. From what she had gleaned over the years his little movement had been actively acknowledged, Klaus went after powerful species. Giants, trolls, wizards he could win over to his way of thinking. She was an elf, with some siren, nymph, and a negligible bit of centaur in her line.

"What the fuck do you want with me?"

His head tilted to the side, that insufferable smirk only widening the longer it took him to answer. Her irritation grew until she tried to shake the metal ties again, and he narrowed his eyes with something like pity. "You truly don't know, do you?"

Caroline didn't want to give him the satisfaction of asking, but it wasn't like she was getting out of this nonsense by herself. "I know you're nuts and I'm filing a restraining order once I get out of here."

"Have you never wondered what magic might be bubbling under your skin," he question softly, his eyes lingering over the red welts on her wrists, "just begging to be released?"

"I took a DNA test," she bit back with a sharp grin, "turns out I'm a hundred percent that bitch who wants nothing to do with you or your little power trip. You don't want me, and I sure as hell don't want you."

Klaus propped his chin on his hand, chuckling. "I thought dinner was going pretty well, actually."

"You made a good impression," she admitted. "I'm a fast learner, though. Besides, don't you recruit big strong fighters to serve as cannon fodder for your worst ideas?"

With a casual shrug, he seemed annoying unperturbed by her accusations. "We all have our strengths. I'm most interested in discovering yours, however." His voice lowered, almost seductive as he leaned toward her. "Escape your bindings, sweetheart. I know you can."

She refused to ask how, not that she particularly wanted to pass his twisted test. But, she did want to escape. "I've never shown an aptitude for magic, ever. My best friend is a witch, and she would have noticed."

"No one noticed." He was watching her steadily, pleased she appeared to play along. "I wouldn't have if I hadn't gotten ahold of your results from the ancestry testing database."

"Stalker!"

His lips curled upward. "Not just yours, mind, I have a talented mole on staff there to keep me abreast of any...abnormalities in gene reports."

Blinking, Caroline tried to remember what that stupid app had told her. "Th-there was an eight percent unknown strain," she recalled. "But that's normal. 'Within the accepted range for interpretation,' is what I think it said. Too many species and generations to clearly delineate."

"I don't care for percentages," Klaus said. "Percentages mean nothing. It's about what resonates throughout your very being, whether it be the lion's share or a single thread. According to your genetic code, you have a very, very rare thread that I think resonates within you. And I think you can call it forth to escape those bindings."

Her heart was pounding. "What are you talking about?"

He stood, moving toward her to gently lift the pendant from the hollow of her neck. "This is very pretty, just like you," he flirted. "Have you never wondered why you favor gold jewelry?"

"It suits my coloring. What does my personal style have to do with anything?"

"Or why you can't help but soak in the sun at every chance you get? Your profile pictures are all outside, often lounging next to a pool."

"Hi, it's an excuse to post a bikini pic!"

Klaus smiled knowingly. "You tend to latch onto your friends, loathe to share them with others. Bonnie, was it? The friend who called halfway through our dinner? You're awfully possessive of her, aren't you?"

Anger welled within her, a boiling rage she'd never quite felt before and had no idea what to do with.

Of course, he just kept smiling. "It'd be a shame if something were to happen to this Bonnie, should you not be able to escape."

Her hands balled into tight fists and her breathing grew heavy. "Don't threaten my friends."

"Your friends," he asked, taking a tighter hold of her necklace as his fangs finally slid out to show just how dangerous he was, "or your hoard?" Then, he ripped her necklace off.

And all hell broke loose.

#klaroline #kcauweek2020 #drugged #kidnapping #day 2 #sci-fi/fantasy #fic: resonant #captive audience

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abusybuzzingbee · 4 years

Text

Wendigo | Supernatural Season 1 Episode 2 Rewrite | Dean x Reader

A/N::: This is another reupload from my previous account under the same @. I hope you newcomers enjoy!

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Major Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Sam Winchester

Warnings: Canon level violence, language, Dean and the reader being assholes to each other

Word Count: 7,380

Summary: Post-Dean and the reader’s first big blowout fight, they’re still at each other’s throats, much to the disgruntlement of Sam.

Series Rewrite Masterlist

Season 1 Masterlist

You were sound asleep in the back of the Impala when you were rudely awakened by Dean slamming down on the car’s horn.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as you blinked at the blinding sunlight. You slowly sat up and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes as Dean chuckled.

“Morning, sunshine.”

“Fuck you.”

Dean looked at you in the rearview mirror. “Aw, somebody’s grumpy.”

“I wouldn’t be if you would wake me up like a normal person.”

“But that’s not as fun,” he pouted. You could see a slight smirk tugging at his lips in the rearview mirror.

“Asshole.”

“Bitch.”

“Guys,” Sam sighed. He turned to you. “You just woke up and you’re already fighting with him?”

“Yeah, Madelyn, take a joke,” Dean sneered like a bratty child.

“We’ll see how funny you think the joke is when I wake you up by banging pots and pans in your ears.”

“You don’t have pots and pans.”

“I’ll buy some just for the occasion, then.”

“Guys!” Sam shouted over you two.

“Sorry,” you muttered, lying back down across the smooth leather of the bench seat.

“Nuh-uh,” Dean told you, stealing another glance at you in the rearview mirror, “Up. We’re almost there.”

“Where’s there?”

“Ranger’s station just outside of Blackwater RIdge,” Sam answered for his brother.

“Ranger’s station?”

“Uh, that’s what he just said,” Dean cut in.

“Fuck off, Dean. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, he does, he’s just being an ass. Blackwater Ridge is in the middle of a forest.”

“Oh...” you trailed off. “And your dad would be there because...?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “If we knew, we wouldn’t be out here, would we?”

You scoffed. You didn’t want to admit that he was right.

***

You and the boys walked into the Lost Creek Ranger’s Station. You took in the various pictures of dead grizzly bears and their hunters adorning the walls, as well as the giant three-dimensional map in the center of the room. In the far right corner stood a desk, and to the left of that desk was a hallway that led to other rooms in the station.

Sam immediately took interest in the three-dimensional map, speaking as he looked over it. “So Blackwater Ridge is pretty remote.” You watched as he hovered his pointer and index finger over the map, pointing at the different physical features as he spoke about them. “It's cut off by these canyons here, rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver and gold mines all over the place.”

“Dude, check out the size of this freaking bear,” Dean called to his brother from behind you and Sam. You turned, seeing Dean focused on one of the many pictures of the grizzlies with their hunter.

“Would it kill you to focus for a second?” you deadpanned.

You heard Dean take in a breath to respond, but he was cut off by a voice coming from behind you.

“You kids aren't planning on going out near Blackwater Ridge by any chance?”

Startled, you whipped around to see a park ranger standing there.

The younger Winchester came up with a lie in a flash. “Oh, no, sir, we're environmental study majors from UC Boulder, just working on a paper.”

Dean grinned and raised a fist. “Recycle, man.”

‘What the fuck, Dean.’

“Bull.”

‘Ha,’ you thought, ‘I knew he wouldn’t buy it.’

“You're friends with that Haley girl, right?”

You stepped out in front of the two boys. “Yeah, sorry about all this.”

“It’s no trouble,” the ranger replied. “But I’ll tell you exactly what we told her. Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater until the twenty-fourth, so it's not exactly a missing persons now, is it?”

You shook your head.

“You tell that girl to quit worrying, I'm sure her brother's just fine.”

“We will,” you told him.

The older Winchester spoke up from behind you as he moved to stand by your right side. “That Haley girl's quite a pistol, huh?”

The ranger chuckled. “That is putting it mildly.”

“Actually you know what would help is if I could show her a copy of that backcountry permit. You know, so she could see her brother's return date.”

The ranger eyed Dean curiously but ended up giving him the paper nonetheless.

The three of you walked out of the ranger’s station, Dean holding the permit and laughing to himself.

“What, are you cruising for a hookup or something?” Sam questioned his brother pointedly.

“What do you mean?”

“The coordinates point to Blackwater Ridge, so what are we waiting for? Let's just go find Dad. I mean, why even talk to this girl?” Sam pressed.

Dean stopped on the opposite of the Impala from you and Sam, placing his hands on the hood of the car. “I don't know, maybe we should know what we're walking into before we actually walk into it?” Dean watched his brother strangely.

“What?”

“Since when are you all shoot first ask questions later, anyway?”

“Since now.” And with that, Sam opened the door and slid into the car.

“Really?” Dean asked more to himself than anything, shaking his head.

***

You rapped your knuckles against the door of the Collins house. When a pretty girl’s face appeared at the door, Dean swept you to the side with his arm, stepping in front of you.

“Hey!” you exclaimed.

Dean ignored you, speaking over your small exclamation. “You must be Haley Collins. I'm Dean, this is Sam, that’s (Y/N), we're rangers with the Park Service. Ranger Wilkinson sent us over. He wanted us to ask a few questions about your brother Tommy.”

Haley studied you all carefully, hesitating. “Lemme see some ID,” she finally said.

Dean pulled out his fake ID and held it up to the screen door. The brunette examined it closely, her eyes flicking from the card to Dean. She opened the door a moment later. “Come on in.”

“Thanks,” you told her.

As the door swung open, you noticed Haley checking out the Impala.

“That yours?” she asked Dean.

“Yeah,” he smiled.

“Nice car.”

Haley turns to lead you three into her home. You watched Dean as he mouthed, ‘Oh, my god,’ to Sam, who shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“If all he does is eye-fuck her this whole hunt, I’m gonna scream,” you whispered to the younger Winchester as you walked into the Collins’ kitchen.

“Yeah, me too,” he whispered back.

You turned your attention from Sam to Haley, who grabbed a bowl off of the countertop. “So if Tommy's not due back for a while, how do you know something's wrong?”

Haley walked back to the table where a teenage boy sat playing mindlessly with his fork. She placed the soup bowl on the table. “He checks in every day by cell. He emails, photos, stupid little videos—we haven't heard anything in over three days now.”

“Well, maybe he can't get cell reception,” Sam proposed.

“He's got a satellite phone, too.”

“Could it be he's just having fun and forgot to check in?” Dean questioned.

“He wouldn't do that,” the teenager snapped, surprising you. He looked down in embarrassment and grabbed the ladle out of the soup bowl.

Haley placed more dishes on the table. “Our parents are gone. It's just my two brothers and me. We all keep pretty close tabs on each other.”

“Can I see the pictures he sent you?” Sam asked her.

“Yeah,” she answered. She grabbed her laptop and pulled up the pictures her brother sent her.

“That’s Tommy,” she pointed out, gesturing to a young man with a bright smile on his face, sitting next to another guy you assumed to be a friend of his.

She clicked through another photo before stopping on the still frame of a video. She played the message for you and the boys.

“Hey Haley, day six, we're still out near Blackwater Ridge. We're fine, keeping safe, so don't worry, okay? Talk to you tomorrow,” Tommy told his sister.

You noticed something flick past in the background during Tommy’s speech. You turned your head to Sam, who seemed to have noticed it, too.

“Well,” the older Winchester started, “we'll find your brother. We're heading out to Blackwater Ridge first thing.”

“Then maybe I'll see you there,” she replied.

You quirked a brow at her.

“Look, I can't sit around here anymore. So I hired a guy. I'm heading out in the morning, and I'm gonna find Tommy myself.”

“I think I know how you feel,” Dean told her. He was watching her closely.

‘Damn, he’s really going for it,’ you thought.

“Hey, do you mind forwarding these to me?” Sam asked Haley.

“Sure.”

***

“You wanna talk about me whoring around with my puppy-dog eyes,” you scoffed as you and the boys walked back to the car after exiting the Collins’s house.

“What?” Dean questioned.

“She’s hot, you obviously were trying to get in her pants in there,” you shrugged. You did your best impersonation of Dean’s voice. “All, ‘I know how you feel,’ and shit.”

The three of you got into the car.

“Oh, come on, (Y/N). We dished that out two weeks ago. And I’m just sympathizing with her, not trying to hook up with her.” Dean started up the car, pulling it away from the front of the Collins’s house.

“I’m sure,” you deadpanned.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know.” You crossed your arms and stared out of the window, slumping down in your seat.

“God, you are such a bitch.”

“And you’re a dick.”

“Know-it-all.”

“Man whore.”

“Guys, enough,” Sam begged.

The car went silent.

***

You were sat next to Sam opposite Dean at a table within a dingy bar. Activity swarmed all around you. Busty waitresses carried trays, guys were going after their flavor of the week, and the buzz of talking and laughing in the building never stopped.

You took a sip of your beer as Sam spoke. “So, Blackwater Ridge doesn't get a lot of traffic. Local campers, mostly. But still, this past April, two hikers went missing out there. They were never found.”

“Any before that?” you asked.

The younger Winchester pulled newspaper articles from his dad’s journal to show to you and Dean.

“Yeah,” the brunet started, “in 1982, eight different people all vanished in the same year. Authorities said it was a grizzly attack--” Sam pulled out his laptop, “--And again in 1959 and again before that in 1936.” He opened his laptop which already had the window of Tommy’s video pulled up. “Every twenty-three years, just like clockwork. Okay. Watch this. Here's a clincher. I downloaded that guy Tommy's video to the laptop. Check this out.” He clicked through the three frames in which you saw the shadow appear earlier one by one.

“Do it again,” Dean told his brother, his brow furrowing in concentration.

Sam did so. “That's three frames.”

“That's a fraction of a second,” you noted.

Sam nodded. “Whatever that thing is, it can move.”

Dean smacked his brother on the arm. “Told you something weird was going on.”

“Hey, check this out,” you told them, looking down at the newspaper in front of you. “In 'fifty-nine one camper survived this supposed grizzly attack. Just a kid. Barely crawled out of the woods alive.”

Dean quirked an eyebrow at you. “Is there a name?”

***

Mr. Shaw led you and the boys through his cluttered, dark house. He had one lamp on in his living room, glowing dimly and doing nothing to illuminate the room. The only reason you could see anything was the moonlight streaming in from the window.

The old man spoke around the cigarette hanging from his lips, his voice gravelly. “Look, ranger, I don't know why you're asking me about this. It's public record. I was a kid. My parents got mauled by a—”

“Grizzly? That's what attacked them?” Sam interrupted.

Mr. Shaw took another puff of his cigarette and nodded.

“The other people that went missing that year, those bear attacks too?” Dean spoke up.

Mr. Shaw hesitated.

“What about all the people that went missing this year? Same thing?”

Another momentary silence filled the room.

“If we knew what we were dealing with, we might be able to stop it,” Dean pressed further.

“I seriously doubt that,” the old man shook his head. “Anyways, I don't see what difference it would make.” Mr. Shaw sat down in his plaid-printed chair. “You wouldn't believe me. Nobody ever did.”

“Try me,” you told him, your voice gentle. “What did you see?”

“Nothing. It moved too fast to see. It hid too well. I heard it, though. A roar. Like...no man or animal I ever heard,” he told you.

“It came at night?” Sam asked.

The old man nodded.

“Got inside your tent?”

“It got inside our cabin,” Mr. Shaw said, his face changing as he recollected the event. “I was sleeping in front of the fireplace when it came in. It didn't smash a window or break the door. It unlocked it.”

You quirked a brow.

“Do you know of a bear that could do something like that? I didn't even wake up till I heard my parents screaming.”

“It killed them?” you asked.

“Dragged them off into the night.” Mr. Shaw shook his head. “Why it left me alive...been asking myself that ever since.” The man wrapped his hand around his collar. “Did leave me this, though.” He pulled the collar down to reveal three gigantic claw marks. They looked like they had cut deep, as the scars were wide and raised above his skin. “There's something evil in those woods. It was some sort of a demon.”

***

You walked behind Dean and Sam down the hallway of your motel. Doors lined the dark, wooden walls.

You were only half-listening to Dean and Sam’s conversation as you tried to figure out what the creature was.

“Spirits and demons don't have to unlock doors. If they want inside, they just go through the walls,” Dean stated.

“So it's probably something else, something corporeal.”

“Corporeal? Excuse me, professor.”

“Shut up. So what do you think?”

“The claws, the speed that it moves...could be a skinwalker, maybe a black dog. Whatever we're talking about, we're talking about a creature, and it's corporeal. Which means we can kill it.”

‘No, no, can’t be a skinwalker. The scar would’ve had four claw marks. Not to mention, puppy claws can’t cut that deep. Same thing with the black dogs,’ you thought as you completely tuned whatever the two brothers were talking about as you three walked outside. ‘Three long-ass claws, ridiculously fast, drags victims off to god knows where, left the little kid alive. Left the little kid alive... kid has less meat on his bones, parents will sustain him. Sustain... every twenty-three years... keeps food at the ready for twenty-three years til he needs more... drags ‘em off into the night...’ You stopped next to the boys by the Impala, still deep in thought as you stared off into space. ‘Too fast to see--’

Sam’s voice brought you out of your thoughts. “We cannot let that Haley girl go out there.”

Dean was loading guns and other weapons from the trunk into an army green duffel bag. “Oh yeah? What are we gonna tell her? That she can't go into the woods because of a big scary monster?”

“Yeah,” Sam stated as if it was obvious.

Dean gave an incredulous look to his younger brother. “Her brother's missing, Sam.”

You reached into the trunk and grabbed two flare guns.

“She's not gonna just sit this out-- (Y/N), hands to yourself,” he commanded, giving you a hard glare. “Now we go with her, we protect her, and we keep our eyes peeled for our fuzzy predator friend.”

“Finding Dad’s not enough?” Sam questioned.

You continued rifling through the trunk and loading things you thought were useful into the bag as Sam spoke. “Now we gotta babysit too?”

Dean neglected to answer Sam’s question as he turned to you. His conversationalist tone he used with Sam completely shifted to hard as he spoke to you. “(Y/N), I thought I told you to stay outta my shit.”

“I’m helping,” you threw back at him.

“No, you’re not, you’re pissing me off.”

“Well, I think I have a better idea of what the monster is then you do, and you’re picking up the wrong damn weapons. So, yes, I’m helping.”

“And what exactly do you think we’re dealing with?”

“A wendigo.”

“Right, because those are only up in the Minnesota woods, or Michigan, even. They’re not out this far west.” He spoke down to you, and you did not like that at all.

“First of all, I’m not a dumbass, so don’t treat me like one. Second of all, I thought about that. But what else makes claw marks like that? Or moves that fast? Or drags its victims off before killing them?”

Dean went to say something in retaliation, but he seemed to realize you might be right, even though he would never admit it. He turned away from you, shaking his head as he zipped up the duffel bag and slammed the trunk shut. “The two of you, man.” He walked off, but not before chucking the duffel bag at Sam.

You stared after Dean for a moment before shaking your head and stomping off to your own motel room.

***

You were slumped in the backseat, arms folded as you stared out of the window of the Impala’s backseat. You chomped down on some mint-flavored gum, enjoying listening to the music that played through the car.

“Can you stop chewing your gum like that?” Dean asked, aggravation clear in his voice.

Truly, you were not being that obnoxious with your gum chewing. Dean just wanted to get pissed at you for something, apparently. Out of spite, you chewed your gum a little louder, making sure your lips smacked together with every chew.

“Mature,” Dean deadpanned. You smirked at him in the rearview mirror.

He parked the car near the place where two other cars were parked. You noticed Haley and the teenage boy standing with another guy. Haley shook her head, clearly disappointed to see the three of you.

You grabbed your duffel bag off the floor of the backseat. You tossed the one for the Winchester brothers to Sam.

“You guys got room for three more?” you heard Dean ask the other group as you shut the back door of the Impala.

“Wait, you want to come with us?” Haley inquired.

The older man that you assumed was the guy Haley hired was the next to ask a question. “Who are these guys?”

“Apparently, this is all the park service could muster up for the search and rescue,” Haley deadpanned.

“You're rangers?” the guy asked.

“That's right,” Dean nodded.

“And you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans?” Haley pressed.

Dean looked himself over. “Well, sweetheart, I don't do shorts.” Dean walked past Haley over to Sam, who had passed all of you to get a look at the forest.

“What, you think this is funny?” the older man snapped. “It's dangerous backcountry out there. Her brother might be hurt.”

Dean turned back to the guide. “Believe me, I know how dangerous it can be. We just wanna help them find their brother, that's all.”

***

Your pack trekked on through the dense trees over dead, fallen leaves that covered the forest floor. You brought up the rear of the group, just behind Sam. Haley and her brother-- whose name you still did not know-- were in front of Sam and behind the other Winchester brother. The older man, whose name you discovered was Roy, led the group.

You noticed Dean and Roy having somewhat of a tense conversation, but did not bother paying close enough attention to their chat to hear what it was about. However, things got interesting for you when Roy grabbed Dean roughly by the arm.

You watched Roy as he picked up a stick and poked at something on the ground that turned out to be a bear trap.

“You should watch where you're stepping. Ranger.”

You snickered at Roy’s comment.

“It's a bear trap,” Dean announced to the rest of you.

You shook your head, rolling your eyes as you did so.

You continued your walk as you saw Haley jog up to Dean, who walked a few paces ahead. She spoke in a hushed tone, and you didn’t hear her from how far back you were. She grabbed his arm and spun him around to get him to stop walking.

Dean indicated to Sam to keep walking, so you followed Sam forward. You hummed to yourself as you kept going. You loved music, and so did your mother. She, like you, had a lovely singing voice. The two of you used to sing together when you were little. You were humming one of her favorites, “Dream a Little Dream of Me” by Ella Fitzgerald.

“Hey, princess!” Dean called to you from a few paces behind. “Keep the humming for when we’re not being hunted by something that finds us by sound.”

“And you yelling at me isn’t gonna attract it?” you called back over your shoulder.

‘Dick,’ you thought.

“This is it. Blackwater Ridge,” Roy announced up ahead.

Sam asked about the coordinates, and as it turns out, they matched the ones John had sent to the brothers.

Dean walked up to his younger brother, and you followed. “You hear that?” he asked Sam.

“Yeah. Not even crickets.”

“I'm gonna go take a look around,” Roy told the rest of your group.

“You shouldn't go off by yourself,” Sam warned him.

“That's sweet. Don't worry about me.” He waved his gun around to display it, pushing between you and Sam to get back in the lead of the group.

“All right, everybody stays together. Let's go,” Dean commanded.

After a few more minutes of walking, your group decided to have a look around. You noticed drag marks in the dirt, following them to the tattered remnants of a campsite. The tents had been torn open, one of them splattered with blood. Backpacks were destroyed, supplies scattered all over the place, and things from within the tent, like sleeping bags, ended up in pieces on the ground.

“Haley?” you called to her.

She rushed over to you, letting out a breath when she saw the scene.

“Oh my God.”

“Looks like a grizzly,” Roy said.

“Tommy?” Haley threw her backpack down and ran across the campsite, calling for her brother.

Sam shushed her, but she kept yelling Tommy’s name.

He shushed her again, a bit of bite to his tone.

“Why?”

“Something might still be out there.”

“Sam.” You pulled him away from Haley.

“Yeah?”

“I followed tracks in the dirt to find the camp. I assume those were made by the bodies when they got dragged away.”

Haley caught your attention when you saw her crying out of the corner of your eye. She had what you assumed was Tommy’s cell phone in her hand.

Dean walked over to her, crouching down next to her. “Hey,” he said gently, “he could still be alive.”

‘It’s amazing how sweet he is with everyone else but me.’

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a man’s voice yelling for help. His voice was gravelly, almost raw from shouting.

Roy ran after the voice.

You grabbed Dean’s arm before he could run after the rest of the group.

“Dean, I don’t think that’s a--”

He shrugged you off of him, running after Sam and the rest of the pack anyway.

‘Dick.’

You decided it was best for you not to be alone while a wendigo was on the loose, so you opted for running after the others.

“It seemed like it was coming from around here, didn't it?” Haley asked as you reached your group. They were looking around for the source of the voice but found nothing.

“Everybody back to camp,” you ordered.

You were the first to reach the campsite, noticing yours and Dean’s duffel bags missing, as well as Haley’s and Roy’s backpacks.

“Our packs!” Haley groaned.

“So much for my GPS and my satellite phone,” Roy commented.

“What the hell is going on?” Haley questioned.

“It's smart,” you informed them. “It wants to cut us off so we can't call for help.”

“You mean someone, some nutjob out there just stole all our gear,” Roy challenged.

“No, Roy, I mean ‘it,’“ you responded.

You grabbed Sam and Dean’s arms, pulling them away from the others. “I need to talk to you guys.”

“Fine,” Dean said, “but I can walk on my own.” He yanked his arm out of your grip.

“Now,” you started once you got a safe distance away from the others, “I’m not gonna say I told you so...” you trailed off.

“Fuck off, (Y/N).” He turned to Sam, raising his pistol in the air. “Well, then this is useless.”

“Yeah,” you started, pulling a flare gun out of the back of your jeans, “but this isn’t.”

“Is that mine?” Dean asked.

“Yup,” you stated, popping the ‘p.’

“I thought I told you to stay outta my shit.”

“And I thought I told you that I knew what we were hunting. But ya didn’t listen to me then, did you? So why should I listen to you?”

“Gimme that,” Dean groaned, ripping the gun out of your hands.

“Hey!”

“We gotta get these people to safety,” Sam prompted, hoping to end the fighting.

You shoved Dean with your shoulder, and he shoved you back as you headed back to camp.

“All right, listen up, it's time to go. Things have gotten...more complicated.”

Haley seemed slightly offended at the mere suggestion. “What?”

“Kid, don't worry,” Roy piped up. “Whatever's out there, I think I can handle it.”

“It's not me I'm worried about. If you shoot this thing, you're just gonna make it mad. We have to leave. Now,” Sam explained.

Roy stepped a little closer to Sam. “One, you're talking nonsense. Two, you're in no position to give anybody orders.”

“Relax,” you told the two men presently competing in a glare-off.

“We never should have let you come out here in the first place, all right? I'm trying to protect you,” Sam pushed back.

The older man got right up into Sam’s face. “You protect me?” he laughed. “I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you good night.”

“Yeah? It's a damn near perfect hunter. It's smarter than you, and it's gonna hunt you down and eat you alive unless we get your stupid, sorry ass out of here.”

Roy laughed again, venom dripping from his tone. “You know you're crazy, right?”

“Yeah? You ever hunt a wen—” Dean shoved Sam away from Roy, silencing him.

Haley went after Roy, trying to calm him down.

“Chill out, alright?” you told Sam.

“Stop. Stop it,” Haley demanded. “Everybody just stop. Look. Tommy might still be alive. And I'm not leaving here without him.”

A silence settled over all of you before Dean spoke up. “It's getting late. This thing is a good hunter in the day, but an unbelievable hunter at night. We'll never beat it, not in the dark. We need to settle in and protect ourselves.”

“How?” Haley questioned.

***

You were drawing Anasazi symbols in the dirt, using the dim firelight coming from behind you to see what you were doing in the dark of night.

You noticed Sam sitting alone on a fallen tree by the edge of the campsite. Dean made a comment about Roy’s skepticism about your whole situation before heading over to Sam. They seemed to be having a deep conversation, so you left them alone for a little bit.

You stood at the sound of a twig snapping, reaching for the flare gun, only to remember that Dean had it.

‘Dick.’

“Help!” the wendigo cried.

"He's trying to draw us out,” Dean told everyone, “Just stay cool, stay put.”

“Inside the magic circle?” Roy questioned, tone filled to the brim with sarcasm as he scanned the tree line.

“Help! Help me!” it tried one more time. When it realized none of you were coming after it, it growled.

“Okay, that's no grizzly,” Roy finally admitted, pointing his gun at the sound.

Haley was attempting to keep her younger brother calm as something rushed through the bushes right behind her. She let out a shriek as Roy shot at the rustling. And then again, he shot.

“I hit it!” the older man exclaimed, running to see what he hit.

‘Coconuts and tobacco,’ you thought as the scents filled your nose. You sprinted after Roy, yelling for him to stop.

“It's over here! It's in the tree!” he yelled.

You got there just in time to see the wendigo reach down for Roy. You leaped into action, grabbing onto Roy’s foot as the wendigo began pulling Roy upwards. You planted your feet in the ground under the roots of the tree, pulling as hard as you could, but the wendigo gave a hard yank and pulled you off of the ground, too. You knew there was nothing more you could do for Roy, and due to the fact that Roy hadn’t been screaming during that tug-of-war session, you assumed he was dead.

You dropped to the ground, landing flat on your ass.

Dean and Sam ran up just as you stood up and dusted your pants off.

“It would’ve helped if I would’ve had the damn flare gun just now, Dean,” you scolded him. “I could’ve killed it and saved Roy, too.”

Sam figured another argument was about to ensue, so he went back to the camp to check on Haley and Ben.

“Well, maybe don’t be so reliant on me to have all of your guns for you. Get your own damn flare gun, and stay outta my stuff,” he threw back.

“Why does it matter to you so much? We’re a team now, we work together. Basically, we all have joint custody over each others’ weapons,” you argued.

“No,” Dean said gruffly, “we are not a team. You... are a stowaway. I don’t even know why you’re here! You don’t know our dad. Hell, you barely know us.”

“I stuck around because I cared and I wanted to help! You’re an asshole, but Sam’s my friend. So forgive me if I’m just trying to be supportive of someone who’s just lost his girlfriend.”

“Whose death you seemed to have predicted. I’m not ruling out the possibility that you didn’t somehow kill her.”

“Kill her? Are you hearing yourself right now, Dean? I was with you and Sam the whole time, how could I have killed her?” You stared at him incredulously as he ran a hand through his hair.

“How the hell else would you have known to turn the car around before Sam’s apartment got deep-fried?”

“First of all, that’s none of your business. Second of all, I had nothing to do with Jessica’s death.”

“I think it is my business,” he stated firmly, stepping closer to you.

“Too bad, dickhead. Let’s head back to camp before we kill each other.” You sidestepped him, storming away.

***

You refused to sleep that night, too busy keeping watch over the camp and too uncomfortable to sleep inside one of the destroyed tents like the rest of your crew did. It felt disrespectful to you.

You hugged your knees, resting your head on top of them against a tree near the outskirts of the “magic circle” as Roy had called it.

‘Roy.’

You felt so guilty for his death. He was a douchebag, but you still didn’t want him to die.

‘If only Dean wasn’t a dickbag and let me keep the gun, Roy would be alive right now.’

You stood up, pacing around the area, trying to keep yourself awake. You yawned, rubbing a hand over your eyes.

“Why don’t you get some sleep,” Dean murmured in your ear.

You inhaled sharply, jumping away from him. “Dammit, Dean,” you breathed. “You scared the shit outta me.”

“I meant to.” You could see the smirk on his face barely illuminated by the pale moonlight shining through the trees.

“You’re a dick, and I’m fine. I can’t sleep in those tents.”

“Well, sorry we don’t have a cabin for you, princess,” Dean sassed.

"It’s not about a cabin, Dean. It’s about the fact that the people who used to sleep in them might be dead,” you responded.

A silence fell between the two of you.

“Well if you’re not gonna sleep, I am,” he told you, for the first time since you had met him speaking without an edge to his voice. He walked back over to the tents.

‘What a weird dude.’

***

Morning came around, all of your group members minus Roy assembled in the clearing. You were dog tired, but you needed to power through the day. You sat next to Sam beneath the same tree you occupied last night, leaning your head back against its trunk. Sam held his dad’s journal in his hand, pulling at a lanyard attached to it.

You were watching Haley, Dean, and Ben having a conversation about the wendigo and its origins when Sam spoke up.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” he asked you.

“No,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut.

Sam shook his head, chuckling at you. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know you weren’t asleep either.” You rolled your head toward him.

He turned to look at you.

“I could hear you tossing and turning all night.”

Sam looked back down, playing with the lanyard again. “C’mon,” he finally said softly, “we should get going.”

He stood, extending his hand to pull you up. You gladly took it, walking over to Dean and the Collinses.

You noticed an empty beer bottle, a white cloth, and a lighter among the supplies scattered about the camp.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked.

“Well, since you staked your claim over the flare gun, I get a Molotov cocktail.”

“Bringin’ that up again are we?” Exasperation was clear in his tone.

“Mm-hmm.” You shoved the cloth into the mouth of the bottle.

“Guys--” Sam butted in. “Focus, please.”

“I am focused!” you protested. “And productive. See?” You held up the lighter and the cocktail.

“Impressive. You put a towel in a bottle.”

“You know what, Winchester--”

“Will the both of you stop?” You and Dean turned to look at Haley. “We gotta find Tommy. Now let’s go.”

The five of you started off, heading in the direction of the drag marks. They circled around the camp and stopped deeper into the woods. You and Dean walked side by side at first, before you noticed how close the two of you were. You sped up your walk, getting slightly ahead of him. Dean noticed what you were doing and walked in front of you, too. The two of you got angrier with each time one passed the other, and you noticed the two of you were leading the group. Everyone else had just let you through. You spotted something out of the corner of your eye, your angry expression softening.

“Claw marks,” you noted, looking at the bloody ones on the tree in front of you.

“Yeah, no shit,” Dean chided.

“Dean--”

“Okay,” Sam said, dragging out the ‘o.’

You and Dean glared at each other but kept moving through the forest behind Sam.

A few minutes of walking had passed when you heard a chomping noise coming from behind you. You turned around to see Dean holding his bag of peanut M&Ms.

“Seriously?” you questioned monotonously.

“What?” he asked, mouth full of the chocolate candies. You slowed your walk, getting side-by-side with him.

“You’ve just had that the whole time and didn’t bother telling me?” You reached for the bag, but Dean snatched it away. “Hey!”

“Hands off my stuff.” He popped a few more into his mouth. “I think we've had a conversation about that before.”

“You sound like a grumpy old grandpa.”

“Dean,” Sam called, getting his attention.

Dean caught up to Sam, and you followed close behind.

“What is it?” the older Winchester questioned.

Dean and Sam looked around the clearing you were in at all of the bloody claw prints marking the trees.

“You know, I was thinking, those claw prints, so clear and distinct. They were almost too easy to follow.”

A grin spread across your face as you snatched the bag of M&Ms out of the arms of a distracted Dean.

“Hey!”

You laughed, shoving a few in your mouth. You were silenced by a growl coming from above you. You held your Molotov cocktail in one hand and your lighter in the other, the bag of candy now tucked under your arm.

You pulled your eyes from the tree leaves when Haley shrieked. You turned around and saw her scrambling to her feet and Roy’s body on the ground.

Dean bent down and looked Roy over. “His neck's broke.”

A growl came from directly behind you.

You sprinted further into the woods, yelling for the others to follow your lead. You took the M&Ms from under your arm before they fell, holding those in your left hand and the cocktail and lighter in your right.

You turned your head around to check for the rest of your group, but you saw only Haley a few paces behind you. You did a double-take, yelling for Sam, when you slammed into something hard. You fell flat on your back, looking up into the face of the Wendigo.

Haley screamed as the Wendigo grabbed you both, one in each hand. It had you by your leg, and you had managed to hold onto the M&Ms but not the cocktail when you fell. You ripped the bag all the way open with your teeth, dropping the candies as the Wendigo sprinted through the woods. You lifted your head up to see a miner’s cave a little ways off in the distance before the Wendigo carelessly rammed your head into a tree, knocking you out cold.

***

“(Y/N)?”

You could barely hear Dean’s voice through the haze that seemed to cloud your senses.

“(Y/N)? Wake up.”

You opened your eyes, blinking a few times. You noticed Dean’s hands on either side of your face, slightly squishing your cheeks together.

“Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper?” you let out, your voice a little deeper and gravelly.

“I am not short,” Dean grumbled as he began cutting you down.

Despite your still foggy state of mind, you found it within yourself to go through another argument with Dean. “Oh, come on, Dean. It’s a Star Wars reference--” Dean helped you down, tossing your arm over his shoulder. “--Don’t take it so seriously. And I can walk on my own, thank you.” You ripped your arm out of his grip, immediately stumbling as you took your first step.

“No, you can’t.” The older Winchester grabbed you again, putting your arm back around his shoulders.

You groaned in pain as Dean set you down against the wall of the cave.

“You okay?” Sam asked you.

“Yep. Yep. All good,” you groaned, trying to sound convincing. “Where is it?”

“He's gone for now,” Sam told you.

“Cut him down!” you heard Haley order. You looked over to see her standing next to Tommy, who was hanging from a meat hook by his wrists like you were.

Sam and Dean rushed to help Tommy.

You rolled your head to the side to see your group’s bags sitting in the corner.

“Sweet,” you muttered, instantly perking up. You crawled over to them, grabbing yours and standing.

“Dean come get your shit since you don’t want me touching it.”

“Not a good time for this, (Y/N),” Dean sighed.

“Well if I would’ve touched it, you would’ve started the fight.”

He rolled his eyes at you, picking up his bag while Ben and Haley helped their brother walk.

“Dean, can I pretty please with sugar on top borrow a flare gun?” you asked, dramatically batting your eyes at him.

“Fine,” he grumbled. He dug around for the other one you had packed in his bag, handing it to you when he found it.

“Wow. Didn’t think you’d actually give it to me.”

“I hope you know how to use that thing.”

“Oh, puh-lease, I learned to use a gun before I learned my ABC’s.”

Dean shook his head. “Let’s just go.”

Your pack traveled down the mine train corridor, fear filling all of your hearts when a growl came from somewhere within the mine.

“Looks like someone's home for supper,” Dean commented.

“We'll never outrun it,” Haley stated.

Dean looked back at his brother. “You thinking what I'm thinking?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he sighed.

“Uh, he is, but I’m not,” you piped up.

Dean ignored you. “All right, listen to me. Stay with (Y/N) and Sam. They’re gonna get you out of here."

“What are you gonna do?” Haley questioned.

Dean winked at her and started walking. “Chow time, you freaky bastard!” he yelled. “Yeah, that's right, bring it on, baby, I taste good.”

You could hear him continuing to yell, but he was too far away at that point to make out what he was saying.

“All right, come on! Hurry!” Sam urged, leading the Collinses down the tunnel.

You got behind the family, your back facing Tommy’s, pointing your flare gun down the tunnel.

You heard growling coming from within the mine.

“Get him outta here,” you ordered Haley and Ben.

“(Y/N), no,” Haley protested.

“Go! Go! Go!” Sam pushed them.

“Come on, Haley!”

Her younger brother’s words finally got the brunette to leave and continue helping Tommy limp down the mine corridor.

You were poised to shoot, staring down into the darkness of the mine shaft. “Come on, you bitch,” you muttered under your breath.

The monster crept up from the shadows, catching you off-guard. You still landed a solid shot with the flare gun, watching the monster go up in flames.

You scrunched your nose in disgust at the smell of its burning flesh but took satisfaction in watching the son of a bitch disappear.

When all that remained of the wendigo were ashes, you could see Dean standing opposite you in the corridor.

“And you didn’t wanna trust me with a flare gun,” you commented, smiling proudly.

“Can it, (Y/N).”

***

You observed the scene around you as the EMT before you tended to your brush burns and cuts.

Sam and Ben were talking to the police, describing the “grizzly attack” they had just experienced.

Dean was leaning on the hood of his car and Haley stood in front of him. At one point in their conversation, Haley kissed Dean’s cheek, making a wide grin spread across his face.

Sam came up behind Haley with Ben, and she put her arm around her younger brother’s shoulders. She said something to Sam before yelling to you, “Thanks (Y/N)!”

You nodded at her, smiling.

“You’re all good,” the EMT said to you.

“Thank you so much.”

You walked over to the Impala.

“Man, I hate camping,” you heard Dean say as you got closer to the two brothers.

“Me too,” the younger of the two responded.

“Me three.”

The ambulance carrying the Collinses drove away behind you, its sirens blaring through the quiet of the night.

“Sam,” the older Winchester started, “you know we're gonna find Dad, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” He paused. “But in the meantime? I'm driving.”

Dean tossed his brother the keys.

“Aw, man. I wanted a turn,” you whined.

“Uh-uh, missy. It’s taken twenty-two years for him to let me drive. You got a long ways to go,” the younger of the two brothers smirked.

“Damn.” You climbed into the backseat, feigning hurt. “Someday.”

“How ‘bout ‘never,’” Dean quipped.

“I like ‘someday’ better.”

“Well, it’s not happening, so you can forget it--”

“Guys!”

Tags are open! Feedback is always appreciated!

Series Rewrite Tags:

@rach5ive @ppeachygemss

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean #sam #reader #reader insert #supernatural reader insert #supernatural series rewrite #spn #supernatural rewrite #dean winchester x reader angst #dean winchester angst

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