#cause i was curious how it fit the scene
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Hannibal 1.07 Sorbet
Much has been made of Will’s inscrutable expression in this scene. What could he be thinking? The dramatic music playing in the background may provide a clue.
It comes from an opera rendition of Shakespeare’s Macbeth, called Patria Oppressa! It plays during Act IV, Scene I. The beginning of the Act is Macbeth’s return to the Three Witches. He asks them to reveal the truth of their prophecies. They summon apparitions that tell him that "none of a woman born / shall harm Macbeth," and that he is safe until Birnam Wood moves to Dunsinane Hill. Macbeth is relieved and feels secure because he knows that all men are born of women and forests cannot possibly move. At the end of the play, Macduff is revealed to have been born via c-section (and thus not “of a woman born”) and the English army advances to Dunsinane Hill using tree branches cut from Birnam Wood as camouflage. Macbeth is slain by Macduff in battle.
How does this relate to the scene at hand? If we go with the interpretation that Will is looking upon Hannibal as a savior here based on visual and storytelling cues (Hannibal is saving the life of Silvestri’s victim, he is bathed in light, elevated, while Will is in the darkness. Will trusts and regards Hannibal even more positively after this experience, even going later to Hannibal’s house to give him wine). Will is given a false sense of security in the vision of Hannibal saving someone’s life, while failing to see/suppressing the darker ramifications, that Hannibal’s surgical skills on display here means that he fits the profile of the Chesapeake Ripper. Just like Macbeth, Will believes he’s safe when in reality his doom is sealed.
#hannibal#nbc hannibal#hannibaledit#dailyhannibalgifs#fuckyeahhannibal#yay hannibal literature class#shout out to this user who explained what happened in macbeth when i asked#cause i was curious how it fit the scene#m*
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I'm doing an animatic for fun of the whoke circle of pride part and omg I forgot how unhinged Normal is there. He's so fun, I love this kid
#dndads#dndaddies#dndads s2#normal oak#also I love how much this scene shows about Normal#and I kinda find it curious that is pride cause I would say that envy fits Normal really well too
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y'know, it's absolutely valid for people to not want engaging in One Piece because of its misogynistic parts, but I just can't help wondering what kind manga/anime do they enjoy then 'cause, with all acknowledgment of its problematic and/or badly written parts, One Piece is still one of the least misogynistic mainstream series.
and I am painfully reminded of this every time I pick a new series up. seriously. it's like a reality bitch slap after which I immediately stop complaining about Nami, Robin, Hiyori and the others (sorry, Tashigi, you still don't get the pass, you're so badly written you're beyond saving, and in addition I don't like you).
so far, only Fullmetal Alchemist and Jujutsu Kaisen passed the check. I have a vague memory of Bleach being okay? but I need a solid refreshment cause it's been years
ah, and Golden Kamuy, of course, but it's not a manga, it's an experience.
stuff like Demon Slayer or Haikyuu might not have the boomer jokes and fanservice, but honestly, I'll take Oda's hehe booba over whatever sad joke of a shadow fem characters are in series like this. and I'm saying this from a level of huge enjoyment those brought me.
#please don't 'but shoujo' @ me cause shoujo as a genre has its own luggage of problems to unpack#internalized misogyny IS a thing and many female authors suffer from it#and no I don't read generic shounens only even if shounens are probably my fav audience focus#at work I deal with a variety of genres#Oda really is THAT GOOD writer and artist#I wish he came down from the level of his ego to actually take criticism or at least listen what readers have to say#(the latest fit over Hiyori in sbs was a perfect example#'how did you not understand it read harder lol'#dude the fact that you HAD TO explain it right in the volume because so many people missed your point#is a proof that this scene was not clear enough)#but even at his lowest he's still miles above the average#anyway it's been a rant lol#maybe I should just stop overanalysing people but hey I am curious#bas mumbles
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✨ His only exception - Pt. 7/? ✨
Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.
Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader
Warnings: 18+ only! - tiny bit of smut, Language,
Word Count: 1856
A/N: This is part 6 of “His only exeption”.
English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨
Ben rolled his eyes in annoyance and pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't understand why you were always so curious and always had to know everything.
“I don’t fucking know, okay?”, he grumbled, letting his arms fall to his thighs and looking over at you. “At least not completely. You're not a Supe, that's for sure. However, I can't fucking tell you why you still have my V inside you. I know that I can turn others into Supes if I inject them enough of my blood. Depending on their DNA, they survive and become a Supe or, well, they fucking die. Until yesterday there was no in-between. And the cape-wearing pussy knows that too. I don't know if it's you, me, or both of us", Ben admitted in a relatively calm voice.
As he watched you, try to make sense of the whole thing, his thoughts began to drift too.
“But if I still have Compound V in me, then it must have an effect, right? It can’t flow through my veins without triggering something”, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you licked your lips thoughtfully.
Ben sighed, sliding further onto the bed and leaning his back against the headboard of his bed as he searched for a suitable answer for you.
“Do you feel different? Because you still smell the same. Supes have their own smell that comes from the V. Lightly mint and vanilla. Your heartbeat also stayed the same. Still much slower than mine”, with his arms crossed, he let his gaze wander from your face, down your body, to your chest, where he focused on your blood circulation.
“Not really”, you mumbled. “I feel the same as last week". Your gaze fell on your wrists and your veins there, which were a little bluer than usual under your skin.
“Then nothing happened. For whatever reason, I healed you without turning you into a supe. The V will definitely be gone from your body soon”. His eyes met yours again, causing a tightening feeling in your abdomen. Even though you couldn't tell why, your body reacted intense to the way he was looking at you. Suddenly the air became thicker, hotter. Your head became heavy, leaving only room for one thought: him. It took all of your self-control not to throw yourself at him, to press your lips to his and to press yourself against him so tightly that not even a piece of paper would fit between you. But where did this sudden strong attraction come from?
Three days ago you had made a scene at him for daring to kiss you, and now his plum lips were taking over your thoughts. You imagined how they would feel on your skin. What he could do with them.
Breathing slightly heavily, you reflexively pressed your legs together and inhaled sharply as Ben continued to look at you with a smirk on his lips.
"I… don't know… Somehow I still have the feeling that… something is different", you murmur, barely audible.
Of course Ben didn't miss your tension. He knew he couldn't start a relationship with you, that you would never want something like that with him, but if you were sitting on his bed so willing and horny, obviously completely absorbed in his presence, he should at least try to fuck you again.
Once. Just once he wanted to know how you felt. Even if he could just take a quick little slip inside you, it would certainly be better than anything he had ever felt before.
His eyes darkened as he clenched his hands into fists, so tight that his veins stood out even more than usual. A sign of his hopeless attempt to hold on to himself. Not to attack you and scare you off again.
Your eyes darted to his hands, which were resting tensely on his thigh. Ben's breathing became heavier. So much heavier that you could hear it, even with your human hearing.
"C´mere. I’ll see if I can feel anything”, he murmured in a deep voice, waving you over. Without thinking, you scooted closer to Ben until your bent leg touched his on the mattress.
While he grabbed your wrist with one hand, his other hand slowly moved down your upper arm to your wrist where it stopped.
Ben would be lying if he said he didn’t like being so close to you. To feel your warm and soft skin under his rough fingers. Feel the heat you radiated. To hear your nervous, uneven breathing. To smell your… excitement.
His index and middle fingers pressed firmly against your wrist and he focused on the way your blood flowed beneath his fingers. Seconds passed before, without warning, he placed his heavy, large hand on your left breast. His finger touched your nipple, sending heat to your stomach and a blush to your cheeks. This unintentional little touch didn't go unnoticed by Ben, before his hand slid a little higher and rested directly over your heart.
Your heart was pounding like crazy against his huge palm. Ben's eyes were closed so he could concentrate better. He was so much better at it than all the other Supes. He could hear, smell, and feel things that Annie or Butcher wouldn't even begin to notice.
“It would be a lot easier if you would fucking relax”, Ben grumbled, putting a little more pressure on your chest, making you inhale sharply. Of course he knew what was going on with you, but refraining from a little teasing just wasn't in his nature.
“You’re fucking fine”, he removed his hand after a few seconds, opening his eyes and looking at you with an amused look. "All organs are fine, no injuries or abnormalities, well except the V of course and… tell me, dollface", he lifted your chin and narrowed his eyes slightly.
“How can you be so fucking horny and still say no to me?”.
Your breath hitched for a brief moment before you cleared your throat nervously. "I… I'm not".
Eyebrows raised, he leaned against the headboard of his bed and let his gaze wander over your body. “For real (Y/N)? You're so fucking wet, you're dripping”. His voice was at least an octave lower.
As quick-witted as you normally were, his boldness caught you by surpriss. “Obviously not because of you”, you hissed slightly hysterically and wanted to get up, but Ben grabbed your forearm.
"Not?", he raised an eyebrow and quickly pulled you onto his lap with a strong tug, that your knees rested on the mattress on either side of his thighs.
With his face only inches away, you could feel his hot breath on your lips. A scent of tobacco and vanilla enveloped you, shutting down the rational part of your brain. Ben's bright green eyes locked onto yours, leaving not even a hint of room to look anywhere else. Your heart was about to explode. Again.
“No, not at all”, you breathed, barely louder than a whisper against his lips.
You stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, drowning in each other's presence. But before Ben could even start anything, you grabbed his face and pressed your lips firmly to his.
As your lips met, Ben could feel the softness of your mouth against his own, a sensation that sent a rush of warmth through his entire body. Your breath mingled, creating a delicate dance of shared air between you. He gently parted his lips, inviting you to deepen the kiss, and felt a surge of excitement as you responded in kind. Your hands moved to cradle Ben's face, their touch both tender and electrifying. Your fingers traced the contours of his jawline, sending shivers down his spine, before tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. Ben's heart pounded in his chest, as much as yours, the rhythm echoing in his ears as if it were the only sound in the world. Meanwhile, you were lost in a whirlwind of sensation. The warmth of Ben's lips against yours ignited a fire within, spreading through your veins like wildfire. Every brush of his tongue against yours sent sparks flying. Time seemed to stand still as the two of you kissed, your surroundings fading into obscurity as you both became lost in each other. It was as if the universe had ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of pure bliss. Every touch, every caress spoke volumes, conveying emotions that words could never express.
There was a tenderness in Bens touch that caught you off guard. In that moment of intimacy, you realized just how gentle Ben could be, a side of him that you never have experienced this strong. You had always known Ben as someone who exuded strength and confidence, but now, as you felt the softness of his kiss, you saw a vulnerability in him that you never had imagined. His touch was gentle yet passionate, a delicate balance that spoke volumes. It was as if Ben had unlocked a side of himself that he had kept hidden away, reserved only for someone who truly understood him. And as you melted more and more into his embrace, you couldn't help but marvel at the depth of emotion that flowed between you two.
After a few minutes you could feel Ben's kisses becoming more and more passionate and, above all, more demanding. As he pulled you closer to him with a tight, almost painful grip, you could feel his erection under the thin material of your pants. He pressed rock hard against your wet and hot pussy, you clenched around nothing. You were so damn aroused but as Ben's heavy hands, slowly moving under your shirt and down your back, you got pulled you out of your shared bubble. “B…Ben”, you murmured into his mouth, only receiving a “Mmmm”, muffled by your lips.
Your breathing became heavier, signaling Ben that you needed some air, which made him move his lips down your jawline.
Between the ecstasy and the nervousness, it was hard for you to think clearly. “Ben… please… I… don’t”, you whispered over and over again between breaths.
And when Ben pulled away, he looked into your eyes that were almost full of fear. "What?", he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.
Just as Ben was about to close the mere inch gap between your lips, you grabbed his wrist by your hip and pulled it away. “I… should go”, you whispered, more to yourself than to him. Your voice shook with emotion as you slid off his lap and out of bed quicker than planned.
"Oh come on!", Ben rolled his eyes and raised both arms. Clearly annoyed.
With bright red cheeks, you half turned to him and looked at him apologetically. "It was… stupid of me. I'm sorry", you mumbled before leaving him alone.
———————————
A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰
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Part 8
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Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch @mimaria420 @kaz11283 @uncle-eggy @jackles010378
#jensen ackles#soldier boy#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy x female reader#soldier boy x y/n#spn#the boys
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The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x F! reader
Description: When Dean gets a call from an "old friend" asking for help, old feelings resurface leaving for messy feelings and a complicated hunt.
Warnings: canon violence, feelings of unrequited love, angst, loving someone being difficult, corpses, crime scenes, cursing, mentions of racism, racist ghost truck?
Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 , @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn , @crazyunsexycool
Word Count: 9,251
Route 666
(Master list, Prev Ch, Next Chapter)
I lean against the expanse of the Impala, letting the bright sun shine over me. It was one of those cold but not cold days, where as long as the sun was hitting you it was perfectly right. Sam is next to me looking over the large map he has laid out on the hood of the car, trying to look for a way around a closed-off road.
I’m glad he knew what he was doing ‘cause my map and geography skills only went so far before I was lost.
Meanwhile, Dean was off to the side, his phone pressed to his ear his brows furrowed whoever he was talking to was clearly telling him something important and maybe shocking.
“Ok. I think I found a way we can bypass that construction just East of here,” Sam informs gaining my attention, “We might even make Pennsylvania faster than we thought.” I nod, taking advantage of his hunched-over figure to ruffle his hair, “Nice work, map man.” He snorts, rolling his eyes as he pushes my arm away playfully.
“Yeah. ‘Problem is, we’re not going to Pennsylvania” Dean points out, closing his phone and looking at it thoughtfully. I look at him confused, “We aren’t…?” He nods, wetting his lips, “I just got a call from an, uh, old friend. Her father was killed last night, think it might be our kind of thing.”
“What?” Sam vocalizes. “Yeah. Believe me, she never woulda called, never, if she didn’t need us” Dean clarifies. Without giving us any more information or even a chance to contemplate or counter his statement he gets in the car, “Come on, are you coming or not?”
The Impala cruises down the expanse of the road, a long beautifully green field on one side and a lake on the other. “By old friend you mean…?” Sam asks the question we were both undeniably thinking. “A friend that’s not new” Dean grumbles.
“Oh! Thanks, genius” I remark, he was being weird and that alone was not helping his case. “‘Said her name’s Cassie huh?” Sam said, trying a different angle, “You never mentioned her…”
“Didn’t I?” Dean remarks. He wasn't very good at hiding this one, the car falling silent in the wake of his stupid answer. He finally huffs, “Yeah, we went out.”
“You mean you dated somebody?” Sam asks with a snort, “For more than one night?”
“Oh come on Sammy we're all adults here, we’ve all dated before” I chime in with a smirk. He turns around in his seat, facing me with an expectant look, “Are we talking about the same person here? Dean doesn't date.” Sam exclaims and I push down the ache of that implication, “And aren’t you the least bit curious.”
“Oh no, I am,” I nod enthusiastically, laughing lightly, “I want all the details. I was just tryna be nice.”
He snickers, turning back to his brother, “You heard her, we want all the details.”
I swear Dean’s eye practically twitches, “Am I speaking a language you’re not getting here? Dad and I were working a job in Ohio, she was finishing up college. We went out for a coupla weeks.”
I want to ask how long ago this was, was it months before his dad disappeared or a year or more ago, but I hold back on my questioning. “And…?” Sam pushes. Dean shrugs slightly.
“Look, it’s terrible about her dad, but it kinda sounds like a standard car accident. I’m not seeing how it fits with what we do,” Sam reasons, “Which by the way, how does she know what we do?”
Dean doesn't answer again, silently shifting in his seat uncomfortably. The realization hits me like a brick, “Oh. My. God,” I lean forward in my seat almost getting choked out by my seatbelt, “You told her! You broke the number one hunting rule! You know, not telling anyone, ever!”
“More than that!” Sam adds, “It’s our big family rule. Number one. We do what we do and we shut up about it. For a year and a half, I did nothing but lie to Jessica, and you go out with this chick in Ohio a coupla times and you tell her everything?!” I try not to think about my own relationships both romantic and not that rarely ever made it past a couple of months before it ended, not only having to lie about being a hunter but a witch too. Dean stays silent, staring straight ahead, “Dean!” Sam yells.
“Yeah. Looks like,” he finally acknowledges. He continues to stare ahead, pressing his foot down harder on the gas pedal. Sam shakes his head, giving his brother his classic bitchface.
“Oh. He had it bad” I laugh leaning back in my seat, ignoring the sinking and stabbing feeling in my heart. I figured I’d have to keep doing so on this hunt.
The office was dark, the bright sunlight not able to stretch upon the large room not even with the help of glass doors. The place could really open a couple of blinds, let the light shine in.
An old white man with an interesting-looking tie, one of those Western ones with the jewel and black tether, talks to two people a man and a woman their backs towards us. And the way Dean pauses, staring at the woman it isn't hard to deduce she's Cassie. She and the older black gentlemen next to her seem to be having some sort of dispute with the old white guy.
Then suddenly both of the men walk away, clearly frustrated, leaving Cassie to stand there herself. She turns around swiftly, and almost like a perfectly curated romance movie she nearly hits Dean only inches separating the two. I didn't even realize he had moved forward in the time we've been standing here.
Just looking at her I could tell why Dean fell for her, she's beautiful more than that. She could be a model with her beautiful long dark curls framing her face, full lips colored red, and big brown eyes. She must have stepped out of a magazine, everything about her screamed perfect down to her perfectly shaped eyebrows and perfect nose. “Dean,” she says, her voice smooth despite the look of slight apprehension.
He nods and grins, “Hey Cassie.” And they just stare at each other. He's looking at her in a way I’ve never seen him look at anyone before even despite the tension that hung in the air, unspoken words from however long ago.
His eyes seem to glimmer, you’d have to be a fool not to see he still has feelings for her, that they never went away in the first place. And that it’s more than just any feelings, he loves her and that is a hard pill to swallow.
He clears his throat, breaking the trance they were both in, “This is my brother Sam. And my friend Y/N.” She smiles at each of us before her gaze reverts to Dean, not that I could blame her in the slightest.
“Sorry ‘bout your dad,” he says.
“Yeah. Me too,” she answers.
Her family home was beautiful and extraordinarily large, it was a bit disturbing. Though maybe that was because it reminded me of my home before moving to Kansas, or at least what I remember of it. We sat in the sitting room on vintage settees, another reminder of that home–my mother would quite like the look of this cozy room.
Cassie finally comes back adorning a tray of tea cups and a teapot along with the little bowl of sugar and a small pouring cup of milk, could she get any more perfect and wonderful? “My mothers in pretty bad shape. I’ve been staying with her. I wish she wouldn’t go off by herself. She’s been so nervous and frightened. She was worried about Dad,” she explains.
“Why?” Dean asks as she takes a seat across from us. He was watching her every move as if dedicating it to memory, I wonder if he’s thinking ‘She moves in the same manner she used to’ or maybe that it changed. Suddenly I was not so okay with sitting between the boys even though that's almost how we always sat when talking to someone on a hunt, as it made it harder for them to fight and made them slightly more comfortable with squishing into sofas with their large frames. But now, being in the middle I could easily watch how he looked at her, studied her.
She skillfully pours tea into each cup, “He was scared. He was seeing things.”
“Like what?” He asked.
“He swore he saw an awful-looking black truck following him,” she responds carefully.
“A truck, did he see a driver?” I ask, diligently accepting the beautiful teacup she handed me. I take a careful sip of the black tea, of course she would know and pick the perfect tea for guests. Does she have any flaws?
“He didn’t talk about a driver,” she answers, “Just the truck. He said it would appear and disappear. And, in the accident, Dad’s car was dented, like it had been slammed into by something big.”
Sam accepts his cup of tea, “Thanks. Now you’re sure this dent wasn’t there before?” And as predictable as Dean was he looked at his cup weirdly before depositing it back on the tray, that man was not a tea person he’d take a coffee or a beer any day. I think the only reason he drank the tea I gave him when he was sick was because he knew how desperate Sammy and I were.
“He sold cars. Always drove a new one. There wasn’t a scratch on that thing,” she explains, “It had rained hard that night. There was mud everywhere. There was a distinct set of muddy tracks leading from Dad’s car…leading right to the edge, where he went over.” She swallows harshly, bowing her head, “One set of tracks. His.”
Dean’s face softens, eyes filling with sympathy, “The first was a friend of your father's?” She nods, “Best friend. Clayton Soames. They owned the car dealership together. Same thing. Dent. No tracks. And the cops said exactly what they said about Dad. He ‘lost control of his car.’”
I force my brain to rid itself of any thoughts of Dean and Cassie's relationship. This was like any other hunt, something weird is going on and we are here to help, nothing more.
It was weird, cars don't just drive off the road like that and then have newly made dents that match another vehicle. “Is there any reason you can think of as to why your father and his partner might've been targets? Competition?” I ask. She shakes her head, radiating certainty, “No.”
“And you think this vanishing truck ran them off the road?” Sam points out.
“When you say it aloud like that…,” she sighs, “listen, I’m a little skeptical about this…ghost stuff…or whatever it is you guys are into.”
Dean huffs, “Skeptical. If I remember, I think you said I was nuts.”
“That was then,” she bites back. Then they fall back into that thing where they just stare at each other, “I just know that I can’t explain what happened up there. So I called you,” she adds, directing her words only to him. I clear my throat, weary of the bubble they seem to have put around themselves, “You were right in calling” I reasoned softly, “It is very strange and on the off chance it isn’t anything supernatural then it was certainly a cover-up.”
Her perfect eyebrows furrow but before she can respond the sound of the front door opening catches all of our attention, a middle-aged white woman enters through and I assume it's her mother. She shared her mother's eye shape and her nose, but the rest of her she must have gotten from her father.
As if we had gotten caught we all rise from the sofa. Cassie goes over to her mother, taking her arm, “Mom. Where have you been I was so…” her mother cuts her off looking at us, “I had no idea you'd invited friends over.”
“Mom, this Dean, a…friend of mine from…college. ‘His brother Sam and friend Y/N.”
“Well, I won’t interrupt you” her mother smiles nervously.
“Mrs Robinson,” Dean says suddenly, “We’re sorry for your loss. We’d like to talk to you for a minute if you don’t mind.” And as if offended she recoils, “I’m really not up for that right now.”
The morning sun is dimmer today, perfect for the scene we were walking upon. The man Cassie was standing with yesterday, Jimmy, was the newest victim. He died in the same way as the others sometime late last night. Cassie was again arguing with the old white man from yesterday. As we approached I could hear his condescending voice, “Close the man road. The only road in and out of town? Accidents do happen Cassie, and that’s what they are. Accidents.”
We stand beside her, Dean speaking up immediately, “Did the cops check for additional denting on Jimmy’s car, see if it was pushed?”
Without missing a beat and without looking away from Cassie the man asks, “Who’s this?”
“Dean and Sam Winchester, Y/N L/N. Family friends. This is Mayor Harold Todd” She replies smoothly. This man went from just any old white guy to a powerful old white guy, even worse. And he had two first names, you never trust someone with two first names. Reluctantly Mayor Old Guy answers Dean’s initial question, “There’s one set of tire tracks. One. ‘Doesn’t point to foul play.”
Cassie scuffs, “Mayor, the police, and town officials take their cues from you. If you’re indifferent about…”
He cuts her off, “Indifferent!”
“Would you close the road if the victims were white?” she counters.
Oh. Could she get any more iconic?!
“You suggesting I’m racist Cassie?” He spits, “I’m the last person you should talk to like that.”
“And why is that?” She counters, stepping closer to him.
“Why don’t you ask your mother” he answers before walking away. My jaw drops, what the hell is going on in this town?
I huff, blowing a piece of hair out of my face. I really didn’t want to get dressed, for as much as I’ve been trying to ignore the whole Dean and Cassie situation I was feeling horrible.
I sit on the soft motel bed in nothing but my underwear and a nice white button-down, haven given up on dressing. I feel stupid. Incredibly stupid.
Maybe Sam’s words had gotten to me, maybe I had gotten my hopes up without even realizing it.
He loves someone else, and he’s had for a while. I always thought when you love someone those feelings don’t ever truly go away, there's always a part of you with them. They wind up crossing your mind and you wonder where things went wrong. But I guess I never considered this would also apply to Dean, which is cruel to believe within itself. Which is funny too, all these years I’ve spent loving him…But Sam was right he didn’t date so I guess I assumed he never fell for anyone during his countless one-night stands.
I know death is cruel but maybe love is tied with it. Because I feel like someone took my heart and ran with it, leaving me with this void in my chest and an ache so intense that it throbs in its place. It was stupid to think I had a chance to begin with. I knew not to believe I had one in the first place, but somewhere along the line I had completely forgotten about any of that. So much for listening to my past self, if I had maybe I wouldn't be feeling so damn bad.
But I couldn't be mad. Cassie was wonderful in every possible way and you don't need to know her for long to realize that. They seemed perfect for each other really. She was feisty and had no issue putting someone in their place, which I quite admired, and I know Dean could use that every now and then. If she was a jerk I’m sure I’d have no issue disliking her, but she wasn’t! She was impossible to dislike, and it would be horrible of me to hate her just because she harbors feelings for someone that I love or the fact that he loves her back. That wasn't her fault, it was neither of their faults.
Loving someone has to be the hardest thing one could do.
I get up from the bed and put on my skirt. I couldn't sit here forever, the boys would come knocking and I wouldn't have a good excuse as to why I’m in a mood. Quickly I check myself in the mirror, at least I didn’t cry which means I don't gotta redo my makeup, even if it was minimal to begin with.
How do you stop loving someone? I could use that answer.
I knew I loved him for a long time, too long. But I suppose I didn’t realize just how bad it had gotten, how much it had flourished and I had never expected that to be possible. I love him.
I love him and it hurts so much.
How many times did I have the opportunity to tell him? It had to be in the hundreds. Maybe it was better that I didn’t, he loves someone else and I should be happy for them. I am happy for him. He deserves to be loved and be able to love. Yes, I am happy.
I approach the two older men having lunch, focusing on the wet ground and the wholesomeness that is them eating on a pier. “Hi, sorry. Are you Ron Stubbins?” I ask, taking the lead. I needed to throw myself into the work, I needed the distraction. The older man nods looking at us confused, his black cap bobbing with his head. “You were friends with Jimmy Anderson?” Dean follows up.
“Who are you?” Ron responds with, sitting up straighter. He was sizing us up, skeptical of us, which he had every right to be. “We’re Mr. Anderson’s insurance company. We’re just here to dot ‘I’s’ and cross ‘T’s’,” Dean explains, flashing his badge.
“And they needed to send three of you?” He counters. I giggle, tilting my head slightly, “Would you prefer me leaving?” I ask sweetly. And as predictable as men can be he drags his eyes across my body before shaking his head, “No. No. That won’t be necessary.” I ignore the dirty feeling that washes over me and sticks to my bones like a new layer of skin, it was necessary to do that because now he won’t bother questioning us anymore on that topic.
“We were just wondering, had the deceased mentioned any unusual recent experiences?” Sam questions, getting back on topic. Reluctantly Ron looks away from me to look at the man who questioned him, “What do you mean, unusual?”
“Well visions, hallucinations” He elaborates.
“We’re working with local psychologists to broaden our questioning and research,” I explain, trying to clear the confusion from his face, “It’s all very standard.”
“What company did you say you were with?” Ron counters. Maybe he was more on guard than I thought. “All National Mutual” Dean answers smoothly, “Tell me, did he ever mention seeing a truck? A big black truck?”
“What the hell ‘you talking about?” Ron exclaims, “‘You even speaking English?”
Wow, what a lovely guy.
“Son this truck, a big scary monster-looking thing?” Ron's friend suddenly says.
“Yeah actually, I think so” Dean answers. The man hums to himself in thought, please let this interaction be useful. “You’ve heard of something like that?” I ask the man. “I have,” he nods, not bothering to elaborate.
“You have. Where?” Sam pushes.
“Not where,” he finally answers, “When. Back in the ‘60s, there was a string of deaths. Black men. Story goes, they disappeared in a big, nasty, black truck.”
“They ever catch the guy?” I ask. He shrugs, “Never found him. Hell, not even sure they really looked. See there was a time, ‘this town wasn’t too friendly to all its citizens.”
“Thank you” Sam nods.
We walk away, heading back to the Impala. “Well, it seems like history is repeating itself,” I began, “From the lack of investigation and racism down to the–”
“Truck,” Dean says, finishing my sentence. “Keeps coming up doesn’t it?” Sam adds.
“You know, I was thinking. You heard of the Flying Dutchman?” Dean asks.
“Yeah, a ghost ship, infused with the Captian’s evil spirit. It was basically part of him” Sam answers, explaining the lore. Dean nods, “So what if we’re dealing with the same thing? You know, a phantom truck, an extension of some bastard’s ghost, re-enacting past crimes.”
“The victims have been black men” Sam continues the theory. I half-shrug, “I don't know. The town has to have more than a handful of black people, but it only seems to be going after specific people. It’s practically targeting those connected to Cassie and her family. I’m sure there’s some deeper link there.”
“That’s why I think it’s more than that,” Dean says.
“All right. Well, you work that angle, go talk to her,” Sam tells his brother specifically, clearly playing matchmaker. “Yeah, I will,” Dean agrees.
“Oh, and you might also wanna mention that other thing” Sam noted, a playful smile on his lips. Always the meddler. “What other thing?” Dean asks, either genuinely lost or faking it. “The serious, unfinished business?” Sam elaborates. I huff a laugh, “Yeah, seriously Dean it's so painfully obvious. Just talk to the girl.” It pained me to even suggest that, to motivate him in such a way but I want him to be happy, and if that means being with her then so be it.
Dean stops just as we reach the car, going obstinately silent. Sam huffs a laugh this time, “Dean, what is going on between you two?”
“All right, so maybe we were a little more involved than I said,” he finally admits. I give him a pointed look, “Yeah…that was obvious.”
He huffs, “A lot more. Maybe. And I told her our secret, about what we do. And I shouldn’t have.”
“Ah look man, everybody’s gotta open up to someone sometime,” Sam reasons, being a little too understanding compared to how we were only yesterday. “Yeah I don’t,” Dean argues, “It was stupid to get that close. I mean, look how it ended.”
I smile at him softly, hoping any sadness is concealed far behind my eyes, and I realize Sam is giving him the same look except he’s nearly beaming. “Would you both stop!” he shouts. But we don't because this is a side of Dean we’ve never seen before, and it is beautiful even if it's heartbreaking for me. “Someone blink or something!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up.
“You loved her,” I say softly, the gape in my chest deepening at the verbal declaration. Saying it aloud was so much worse. “Oh God,” he groans, turning to the Impala. “You still do!” I call after him.
“You were in love with her, but you dumped her,” Sam states, connecting the pieces. Dean goes silent, staring at the ground, then carefully glances at his brother before reverting his eyes. “Oh wow. She dumped you.”
I have to stop myself from taking in a sharp breath, there was a lot to this he wasn’t telling us. But why would she break up with him if she still has feelings?
“Get in the car” Dean demands, done being “emotional” and open, “Get in the car!”
Sam hands me my hot chocolate, but not even the sweet treat or the soft snow falling just outside can lift my mood. It makes me feel a little better but it does not fix my heart. Dean didn’t come back last night and I know it’s because he spent the night at Cassie’s. I’m happy they worked things out and hopefully had a wonderful night but again it does not fix my heart.
I held the cup tighter, welcoming the immense warmth it brought to my frozen hands as we stepped out of the small coffee shop. The air was crisp yet gentle as the light fluffy snowflakes descended onto us, the cold flakes collecting in my hair. A small smile graced my face, maybe it was making me feel better. I like the cold, preferred it even, I was cozy in my thick turtle neck and my favorite fleeced-lined jacket.
Sam and I walk in comfortable silence side by side, sipping from our cups and basking in the scenery of the unexpected snow. It was early May in Missouri, it really shouldn’t be snowing but I suppose if it could snow here a little in April then early May couldn't be that weird. Plus it was a light snow that likely wouldn't even stick. But the calming scenery is cut in half by an ambulance that speeds past us, sirens blaring. We share a questioning look but ultimately ignore it until two cop cars rush past us heading the same way. That we can’t ignore. With another shared look, we follow after the sirens.
I look out at the macabre scene, the yellow caution tape not having stopped me from investigating thanks to the use of a fake ID. The body had been bagged after countless photos were taken, but the blood of Mayor Todd still stains the streets. It was a gruesome scene, arguably worse than the others in this case his organs squished out like roadkill and, truthfully, that’s what he had become.
“L/N” Sam calls out from just a few feet behind me. I turned around swiftly, the snow whirling around me, Dean stood next to his brother. He came.
I walk over to the two boys, watching Dean’s clear expression of shock masked by annoyance, “‘You gonna ask me a bunch of questions too?” he asks. I look at him confused, “...no” I drag out slowly. His face seems to relax slightly, something unrecognizable passing in his eyes, “Good,” he nods.
“I already know you made up–made out” I add, his face drops, “Anyways, crime scene,” I point behind me.
“Every bone crushed. Internal organs turned to pudding,” Sam explains the case, catching his brother up, “The cops are all stumped, it’s like something ran him over.” The wind picks up again, swirling the snow in its own private storm, the cold will help with the case as it preserves the body longer. “Something like a truck?” Dean asks, gaining his footing in the case.
“Yeah, except of course there’s no tracks” I answer. He nods, rubbing a hand down his jaw and I have to force my eyes away from the movement, “What was the Mayor doing here anyway?”
“He owned the property. Bought it a few weeks ago” Sam says referring to the building site.
“But he’s white, doesn’t fit the pattern,” Dean points out. Sam nods, “Killings didn’t happen up on the road. That doesn’t fit either.”
I shove my hands into my pocket, taking a quick look back at the crime scene before turning back to the boys, “Then it seems like this case is one of revenge.”
I shuffle through the papers in front of me, glad that I was sent to do research at the town's main library rather than be at the newspaper office with the boys and Cassie. She was probably looking at him all sweetly and being a kind person, and I did not wish to see the loving way they looked at each other. And if avoiding that meant having my nose in dusty boxes of court records then that was okay.
I pull out my phone calling Sam directly instead of Dean, the phone rings a couple of times before he picks up, “Hi” I greet, “I got some info.”
The line goes quiet for a second before I hear his voice, “Alright you're on speaker.”
“Ok, so,” I start, balancing my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I look over the papers, “I have courthouse records here, and according to them Mr and Mrs Mayor bought an abandoned property. The previous owner was the Dorian family who owned it for, like, 150 years.”
“Dorian?” Dean repeats back. “Yes.”
His voice grows quieter but still in range enough for me to hear, “Didn’t you say the Dorian family used to own this paper?” he asks someone else in the room. “Along with everything else around here. Real pillars of the town,” Cassie answers. “Right, right” Dean responds followed by the clicking of keys.
“You got something there?” I ask, readjusting my phone.
“Think so” Sam mumbles, seemingly focused on whatever was happening over at the office.
“This Cyrus Dorian. He vanished in April of ‘63. The case was investigated but never solved. It was right around the time the string of murders was going on back then,” Dean informs, adding more information to what that man yesterday had told us.
“Well to add to that information, the Dorian place seemed to be in really bad shape when the Mayber bought it,” I add, “He bulldozed the place.”
“Mayor Todd knocked down the Dorian place?” Dean asks, presumably, Cassie. “It was a big deal” she answers, “One of the oldest houses left. He made the front page.” I huff a breath, everything connecting yet leaving so many questions at the same time. “You got a date, Y/N?” Dean calls back.
“Um,” I hum shuffling the papers around and reading over the words quickly, “‘3rd of last month.” The line goes quiet again the only sound ringing back being the sharp noise of fingers on a keyboard, “Mayor Todd bulldozed the Dorian family home on the 3rd,” Dean finally responds, “The first killing was the next day.”
Pouring the boiled water into the mug I take a quick look back, Dean kneels in front of the shaken-up Cassie rubbing her knee softly and looking at her with pure determination and adoration. I swallow roughly looking back at the mugs in front of me, nearly overspilling and burning myself.
This was not the time to grieve a love that never happened. Cassie called Dean afraid, having seen the black truck. We were here to help, I was making a soothing herbal tea for her and her mother to calm the nerves.
Finishing with the mugs I carefully carry them into the sitting room. Sam takes one from me, gently handing it to her mother. I hand the mug to Cassie, her shaky hands accepting and rattling the cup, Dean immediately moves to sit at her side but it does not stop his protectiveness if anything it amplifies it; he practically radiates it. “Maybe you should throw a couple of shots in here,” she says, half joking.
I huff a laugh, “Well while the effects of alcohol do have the capabilities of easing the central nervous system, when the effects wear off your body will be jolted back from its depressive state which would really only make you feel worse, more anxious as well as stressed.”
She gives me a half, almost awkward, smile before taking a sip from her mug. Did I say too much? Why didn’t someone stop me? Someone should’ve just cut me off, especially if I wasn’t helping.
“You didn’t see who was driving the truck,” Sam says suddenly, pulling the awkwardness out of the air. “It seemed to be no one. Everything was moving so fast. And then it was just gone,” she explains, “Why didn’t it kill us?”
“Whoever was controlling the truck wants you afraid first,” Dean answers. This would explain why at least one of the victims had seen it and truthfully thought they were going mad. “Mrs Robinson,” Sam began, “Cassie said that your husband saw the truck before he died.” Mrs Robinson doesn't answer, seemingly lost in her mind as she shakes. “Mom?” Cassie says carefully, worry laced in her voice.
The older Robinson shakes her head nervously, “Oh. Martin was under a lot of stress. You can’t be sure about what he was seeing.”
“Well after tonight I think we can be reasonably sure he was seeing a truck. What happened tonight, you and Cassie are marked. Ok?” Dean snaps, “Your daughter could die. So if you know something now would be a really good time to tell us about it.”
“Dean…” Cassie warns. But her mother's face contorts in emotion, something in her breaking, “Yes. Yes, he said he saw a truck.”
“Did he know who it belonged to?” Sam asks, taking a seat across from the woman. “He thought he did,” she answers cryptically. “Who was that?” Dean pushes. Her eyes get watery and she sinks into herself, “Cyrus. A man named Cyrus.”
My gaze flickers to the boys, we are all thinking the same thing, I look back at her, “By any chance was it Cyrus Dorian?” I ask carefully. Dean pulls out a newspaper from inside his coat, handing it to the woman. She doesn't shake her head or nod only replying with, “Cyrus Dorian died more than 40 years ago.”
“How do you know he died, Mrs Robinson?” Dean asks softly, “The papers said he went missing. How do you know he died?”
She hesitates, her mouth agape like a fish out of water or in reality that of a person who got caught, “We were all very young,” she says, “I dated Cyrus a while, I was also seeing Martin…in secret of course. Interracial couples didn’t go over too well back then. When I broke it off with Cyrus and when he found out about Martin, I don’t know, he, changed. His hatred. His hatred was frightening.”
“The murder,” Sam voices.
Her voice wobbles, “They were rumors. People of color disappearing into some kind of truck. Nothing ‘ever done,” she swallows shifting in her seat, “Martin and a…Martin and I, we were gonna be, uh, married in that little church near here, but last minute we decided to elope as we didn’t want the attention.” She pushes her short hair out of her face, stressed. “And what became of Cyrus?” I ask.
Endless tears fall down her cheeks, “The day we set for the wedding, was the day someone set fire to the church. There was a children’s choir practicing in there. They all died.” I suppress the gasp that wishes to leave my lips, the room seems to dim with the information. What was meant to be a beautiful day was soiled by the blood of innocents.
“Did the attacks stop after that?” Sam asks softly, careful of her fragile mindset.
A sob escapes from her chest, “No! There was one more. One night that truck came for Martin. Cyrus beat him terribly. But Martin, you see, Martin got loose. And he started hitting Cyrus and he just kept hitting him and hitting him.”
“Why didn’t you call the cops?” Dean pushes. She continues to cry, “This was forty years ago. He called on his friends, Clayton Soames and Jimmy Anderson, and they put Cyrus’ body into the truck and they rolled it into the swamp at the end of his land and all three of them kept that secret all of these years.”
“And now all three are gone,” Sam acknowledges. This all confirms the theory of a vengeful spirit. “And so is Mayor Todd,” Dean adds, “Now he said that you of all people would know he is not a racist. Why would he say that?”
“He was a good man,” Mrs Robinson answers, “He was a young deputy back then investigating Cyrus’ disappearance. Once he figured out what Martin and the others had done he…he did nothing, because he also knew what Cyrus had done.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cassie asks, her voice hard yet full of emotion. I couldn't imagine what was going on in her head, to find out something like this–“I thought I was protecting them. And now there’s no one left to protect,” her mother reasons.
“Yes, there is” Dean counters, fiercely. His green eyes harden with determination as he looks at Cassie.
I sit on the cold hood of the Impala, gently kicking my legs back and forth watching Dean pace in front of me. Sam leans against the car next to me, his arms crossed as he too watches his brother, “Ah, my life was so simple. Just school, exams, papers on polycentric cultural norms…”
I look at him with an amused smile, “I have no idea what that last part is but it sounds fun!” That stops Dean in his tracks for just a half of a second, he points at us, “No it doesn’t. I saved him from a boring existence.”
“Yeah, occasionally I miss boring” Sam reasons. I nod enthusiastically, “Honestly, we have not had a normal day in like months. Kinda miss it.”
Dean brushes our light complaining off, “So this killer truck–”
“I miss conversations that didn’t start with ‘this killer truck’” Sam quips with a dramatic sigh. I failed to hold back my laughter, Dean laughs lightly and for a brief moment, things feel how they used to, “Well this Cyrus guy. Evil on a level that infected even his truck. When he died, the swamp became his tomb, and his spirit was dormant for 40 years.”
“So what woke it up?” Sam asks.
“The construction on his house. Or the destruction,” Dean points out.
“Right. Demolition or remodeling can awaken spirits, make them restless” Sam recalls. His brother hums a ‘yes’, nodding.
“Like that theater in Illinois, ya know?” Sam references, and I in fact had no idea what he was talking about. “And the guy that tore down the family homestead, Harold Todd, is the same guy that kept Cyrus’ murder quiet and unsolved,” Dean adds, bringing it back to the case at hand.
“So now his spirit is awakened and out for blood,” Sam acknowledges.
“Yeah, I guess. Who knows what ghosts are thinking anyway” Dean shrugs.
“Wait, does this mean we have to go swimming in that swamp?” I ask. I mean if we had to salt and burn the bones then we would need said bones which are in a swamp, how nice. Dean smiles at me, I know that look. “No” I warn, pointing at him like an animal that did something wrong. “You said it” he rationalizes.
“Noooo” I whine a pout on my lips, “Do I have to do it alone?”
His wicked smile deepens, “‘Course not, Sammy’s gonna be with you.”
Sam’s shoulders drop, “Man,” he sighs.
Suddenly a familiar figure approaches, her hands tucked into the back pocket of her jeans. Dean stands up straighter, “Hey.” She smiles sadly, “Hey. She’s asleep. Now what?”
“Well, you should stay put, look after her…and we’ll be back. Don’t leave the house,” Dean explains, looking at her in that way that hurts my heart. But she smiles, any worry melting off her face, “Don’t go getting all authoritative on me. I hate it.”
Dean glances back at us, Sam looks down grinning acting as if neither of us could hear the conversation. He turns back to Cassie mumbling something I can't quite make out but whatever it was must have been good because he slowly leans in to kiss her. I drop my head and gaze at the very interesting ground, trying my best to ignore the sound of their intensifying making out. A pang of jealousy, longing, and pain shoots through my chest. If the ground wanted to just open up and consume me now I wouldn’t complain, I’d even help it and just throw myself in it wouldn’t have to work very hard. Sam clears his throat, I look up but Dean just holds out a finger to wait as he brings Cassie even closer.
I drop my eyes again.
Loving someone never hurt so bad. Loving him never hurt so bad.
Was it wrong to love him? Was this always going to be my fate? To see him evermore with other girls, loving them more than he could ever love me.
“You two comin’ or what?” Dean asks. I look up once more and this time his lips aren’t on Cassie.
I tug on the chain again, making sure it's secure, my hands getting wet in the process. I wipe my icky hands off on my jeans as I back away, “Alright he’s good,” I call out to Sam who stands feet away from me, closer to the butt of the pickup Dean was driving. He gives a thumbs up to his brother who begins to move the car forward, the pickup moving slowly in the weight of the heavy truck and water pressure.
We had already gotten it up a lot, but it had gotten stuck on the side of the swamp so we had to readjust its hold to get it the rest of the way up.
The years in the water had diminished it. The old black truck was now more like a rust bucket, remains of the swamp water spilling out from the seams. “All right. A little more…little more,” Sam leads, “All right, stop.”
The engine shuts off and Dean heads to the Impala, he pulls it open rummaging through the various weapons. “Now I know what she sees in you” Sam declares with a snap of his finger, meaning he finally understood what that look in her eyes meant. “What?” Dean asks.
“Come on man, you can admit it. You’re still in love with her” Sam clarifies. I nod even though the implications hurt, “Plus it’s not like no one else knows. So the only person you’re hiding from is yourself.”
Dean looks up from the trunk, “Uhh, can we focus please.”
I purse my lips, “Yeah…focusing has never really been our strong suit…” A container of salt is pressed into my chest, “Hold that” Dean says swiftly.
His expression hardens, all jokes put to rest as he dishes out items, “Gas” he says first, handing the large container to his brother, “Flashlights,” he lists out next filling my empty hand with one.
“Ok, let’s get this done,” he quips, closing the trunk.
We trudge back over to the rusty truck, our flashlights leading our way across the grass. Dean places his hand on the handle and I must wonder how he isn’t grossed out by just the feeling of the flaked paint and rotting metal. He glances at us in a silent ‘you ready?’ We give a nod and he opens the door.
A decaying wet corpse falls out the door and onto the soft grass, a small gush of water following its lead. I leap back like a scared cat, clasping a hand to my mouth and nose the decomposition of the body as well as its marinating in swamp water left a putrid smell. One perhaps worse than anything I've ever smelt before which was saying something considering what I’ve hunted.
“All right let’s get to it,” Dean says. Sam pours the gasoline all over the body, careful not to get it close to us and I jump in with the salt, opening the little latchet to sprinkle the small white crystals over the open-mouthed corpse. The satisfying scratch and flick of a match sounds softly beside me in the quiet night followed by the drop of the matchstick on the body. In mere seconds the remains go up in flames, the warm glow of the fire reflecting on the truck just beside it. I hoped no one would come looking over here with the whirl of smoke twirling above us, the heat powerful enough for me to take another step back.
“Think that’ll do it?” Sam voices, staring down at the burning corpse. But his question is followed by the revving of an engine and two blinding lights pointed at us. Without looking in the direction I knew it was the ghost truck. “I guess not,” Dean quips.
“So burning the body had no effect on that thing?” the younger Winchester asks. “Sure it did. Now it’s really pissed,” Dean responds. I glare at him, “I don't know if this is the time for cool jokes.”
“But Cyrus’ ghost is gone, right Dean?” Sam asks, a hint of panic in his voice as the tuck stares us down. But his brother doesn't answer right away, instead, he starts to walk away, “Apparently not the part that’s fused with the truck.”
I go on my tip toes trying to peak into the truck, maybe we missed something like a severed piece of him that didn’t spill out but before I can vocalize this Sam is calling out to his brother, “Where are you going?” I turn around, catching up to the boys, “Goin’ for a little ride,” Dean answers as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What?!” Sam and I exclaim in unison, “That’s a horrible idea!” I add. But he ignores our concern, “Gonna lead that thing away. That busted piece of crap, you gotta burn it.”
“How the hell are we supposed to burn a truck, Dean?” Sam asks, voice raising in volume. But being the determined man he is he shrugs, “I don’t know. Figure something out.” He rounds the car, opening the driver's door, “At least let one of us come with you, this is horribly dangerous,” I try to reason.
His eyes move up and down my face, before he settles on my eyes once more, “‘Exactly why you’re not comin’ with.” Before I can come up with a retort on how stubborn he is he settles himself into the car, closing the door behind him. I look to Sam for any support on this but he just stares at the car muttering, “Figure some–something–”
I rack my brain for ideas because Dean wasn’t going to listen and would rather be all hot and stubborn than be reasonable, “An explosion?” I suggest. Sam shakes his head, “No, that wouldn’t work. Parts would go everywhere and everything has to burn.”
I huff, frustrated, “I hate when you’re right.”
Dean reverses the Impala and takes off, the engine revering. As predictable as possible the ghost truck roars after him. I try to rack my brain for more ideas, even if we could suddenly light a truck on fire it would take too long for it to burn completely, “Sam, please tell me you got some idea rolling around in there.” He doesn't answer, lost in concentration with his bottom lip between his teeth.
My phone suddenly rings in my pocket, I pull it out swiftly seeing Dean’s name glowing. I flip it open bringing it to my ear, “You okay?” I say immediately. “Uh…yeah,” He says but I remain not convinced, “what are we doing?”
I look at Sam, panicking slightly, “Um, Sam what are we doing?”
He pulls out his phone, “You gotta give me a minute.” He presses his phone to his ear, “He says to give him a minute, I think he’s callin’ someone.”
“I don’t have a minute!” He half yells. “Dude, I don't know!” I panic, “Just…just don’t die, okay?”
“Trying here sweetheart.” I look back at Sam who has stepped away, I give him a hand motion of ‘please hurry up.’ He nods, coming closer to feed me info, “Ask him where he is.” I pull my phone away from my ear putting him on speaker instead, “Okay, Dean where the hell are you?”
“In the middle of nowhere with a killer truck on my ass!” he exclaims, “It’s like it knows I put the torch to Cyrus.”
“Listen to me, this is important” Sam orders, calmly, “I have to know exactly where you are.” Seemingly taking his advice he goes quiet for a beat, “Decatur Road, about two miles off the highway.”
“Ok. Headed East?” Sam follows up.
“Yes!”
A rattle and a bang followed by skitting noise sounds from the phone followed by cursing, “You son of a bitch!”
“Sam!” I yell, begging him to hurry up. “Ok, uhhh, turn right! Up ahead, turn right.” Again the line falls silent, “You make the turn?” Sam questions softly. My heart beats faster with each silent moment that passes. “Yeah, I made the turn!” Dean yells, “You need to move this thing along a little faster.”
“All right, you see a road up ahead?” Sam asks.
“No!... Wait. No, yes, I see it.”
“Ok turn left.”
“Wha..?” Dean half says before he goes quiet again the only sound coming from the line being more screeching and shuffled movement. “All right, now what? He finally responds.
“You need to go seven-tenths of a mile and then stop,” Sam explains. I looked at him strangely, noticing he wasn’t on the phone anymore, but what the hell was he talking about? “Stop?” Dean voices.
“Exactly seven-tenths Dean” Sam repeats.
“God, I hope you know what you’re talking about,” I tell the man beside me. “Me too” he mumbles over the sound of his brother repeating the words ‘seven-tenths.’ I look at him my mouth agape, “You wha–”
“Dean, you still there?” He cuts me off, focusing on his brother again. “Yeah,” Dean responds.
“What’s happening over there?” I ask, not knowing was killing me. “It’s just staring at me,” he answers carefully, “what do I do?”
“Just what you’re doing, bringing it to you,” Sam replies.
“Wha–” Dean began before cutting himself off, the line going quiet for the umpteenth time, “Come on. Come on,” he mumbled quietly but just loud enough for the phone to pick it up. My heart thumps in my chest, anticipation and fear running through my veins as well as something else from those two stupid words–something had to be wrong with me to find that hot now of all times.
The line is silent, for one beat, then another, then another…I grip my phone tighter, “Dean? Dean, are you there? ‘You okay?”
“Where’d it go?” he responds with a mix of shock and confusion. “Dean, you’re where the church was,” Sam explains. “What church!” he freaks.
“The place Cyrus burned down. Murdered all those kids,” Sam clarifies.
“There’s not a whole lot left,” Dean responds.
“Church ground is hallowed ground, whether the church is still there or not. Evil spirits cross over hallowed ground, and sometimes they’re destroyed, so I figured, maybe, that would get rid of it,” Sam explains. I hit his arm, “That was a hunch?!”
Dean adds in with the lecturing, “Maybe? Maybe!! What if you were wrong?!”
“Huh,” Sam hums, “Honestly, that thought hadn’t occurred to me.”
I glare at him sharply, hitting his arm again as I say, “You’re too sassy for your own good.” He laughs, a boyish grin on his face.
I wait in the back, Sam in the driver seat for Dean to say his goodbyes. I liked the back seat, more now than ever because being in the front would mean being able to see out the side mirror and watch Dean kiss the woman he loves and say a goodbye I was sure he didn’t want.
Life was being really unfair and uncool.
I bury my nose in my new book, it would be better to just escape into this world than have to deal with my feelings here in the real world. My feelings in the real world were not fun, they were depressing and hurt…a lot. But no amount of ink on paper formed into beautifully crafted words could fill the gaping hole in my heart, still, I tried as there was nothing else to do.
What is worse is knowing there will never be a chance for me to be loved by him, at least not in the way I do, because there will always be a place in his heart for her. He’ll think of her all the time, dream about her, and perhaps see her in the breeze. His heart belongs to her, and possibly always has.
I needed to accept that. The sooner I did the quicker the pain would go away. I couldn't go on believing I had a chance I needed to huff the flame out now.
No more hope. No more love. We’re friends, always have been, and always will be. That will have to be enough. I couldn’t love him anymore, not if it meant feeling this much pain. I wouldn’t accept his touches anymore for they gave me more hope than I’d like to admit.
No. I was wrong.
Worse of all is knowing that I can’t just stop loving him. Let it be the Gods' fault or the stars or whatever it is I’m meant to believe in but my heart has long been his and always will be. I could never love someone the way I love him, I wasn’t capable of that. Let it be that our love was written in the star's constellations that it was undecided by me or him for my love had to transcend the binds of that nonsense.
I loved him and he did not love me and maybe it was that which I had to accept because to stop loving him would mean to stop my heart from beating. Though even then I suspect not even the afterlife could keep me from my eternal love. And maybe that was pathetic or stupid, especially since he did not care for me in such a way, but it was the truth and no one has ever claimed truth to be a beautiful thing.
I’m brought back to reality with a bump. When did we leave and start driving? I look out the window, we had already made it to the highway…I look at the boys, but both seem fine. Ok then.
“I like her,” Sam says, and suddenly I wish to be lost back in the state I was in moments ago. I would love not to hear or be a part of this conversation. “Yeah,” Dean replies, seemingly just to get his brother to stop.
“You meet someone like her, doesn’t it make you wonder if it’s worth it? Putting everything else on hold, doing what we do?” Sam asks innocently perhaps trying to get him to understand what he had felt with his girlfriend. But something flickers in his face and suddenly he’s making eye contact with me in the rearview mirror, his eyes written in apology as if it just hit him now what all of this was doing to me. It was that puppy dog look.
I smile sadly at him, giving him a curt nod in a silent ‘it’s okay.’ His gaze flickers back to the road.
Dean leans forward pulling sunglasses from the glove box, he puts them on carefully ignoring his brothers' initial question, “Why don’t you wake me up when it’s my turn to drive?” He slouches down in his seat with a sigh. I shake my head, roll my eyes, and go back to my book.
We were leaving Missouri and all would be well, or as well as they could be.
#supernatural#fanfiction#dean winchester#sam winchester#dean winchester x reader#john winchester#slow burn#the hunter and the witch update#dean winchester x witch reader#the hunter and the witch#witch reader#witchcraft#dean winchester x f!reader#unrequited love#angst#light angst#dean winchester x female!reader#he’s in love with someone else#supernatural x reader#winchester x reader#romance#supernatural season 1#dean winchester x you#supernatural fanfiction#update#writing
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the nun and the soldier
A/N; I ACTUALLY DREAMED ABOUT THIS AND THOUGHT LOL WHAT A GOOD IDEA FOR AN OS
Pairing; "[REDACTED]" x AFAB!Reader
CW; cnc? for someone who doesnt know how to put limits the line is very blurry, you will guess / daddy kink but in a priestly way / def religion kink, breeding but im not sure if its just a kink, worship but im not sure who worships who the most / this is more like an au like 1940 battlefield where [REDACTED] is a soldier and MC a nun
The night was like a classic old horror movie scene.
And how not to be scared? Outside the cathedral it was raining heavily, the skies were roaring from the electrical storm and the only lighting was the holy candles, that place was a refuge for the homeless.
After all, many people needed comfort in times of war.
You had decided to stay until midnight, praying to your father to protect the soldiers in battle, that the families would stop going hungry, you held the wooden cross that hung from your chest so tightly, begging for the massacre to stop, the times They brought sadness to the entire nation and God had to save them.
A loud clap of thunder echoed outside the cathedral and the doors were opened, the cold of the night and the wind caused the flame of some candles to go out, so holding the cross tightly to your chest you turned to see who dared to break in. with such violence in the house of God.
"Who's there?" You asked as you walked towards the huge wooden gate.
A man in uniform walked in, soaked from the rain, he looked tired, hungry, hurt, he barely made eye contact with you you felt a chill run through your entire body, not just because of the weather.
"I need food" He was a soldier, you nodded immediately and helped him walk to take a seat on one of the benches while you went to the warehouse for something the man could eat, there was food stored that was going to be donated, or that's what the priest said.
You returned with canned food and some water for the stranger, who snatched your things to eat like a dying dog, water running down his chin and eating haphazardly as he breathed heavily.
"Sir, are you okay? Where is he coming from?" You didn't avoid being curious when asking those questions, although just one cold look from him was enough to make you close your mouth.
…
You only heard him chewing, the man seemed to have had a really bad time and it was no wonder that you could tell from miles away that he was a soldier, and since he came alone, there was a high probability that he was one of the few survivors in the trenches, but you are not going to assume too much.
"Father, please help this poor man to heal his wounds safely, to regain his strength, to protect his life on the battlefield and the lives of our nation -…"
"Stop talking shit" he interrupted you in a vulgar way, causing astonishment on your face, even disgust.
"That is no way to speak before the lord" You scolded him, the black-haired man only laughed hoarsely.
"Bring me clothes, I'm freezing in this" he demanded arrogantly, getting rid of his wet clothes, your kind soul heeded his words, because that's what you were, right? A sweet nun willing to help the needy, love your neighbor as your god ordered.
"Excuse me, I only found the priest's old clothes and I'm not sure they fit him, I hope they can help you" You said as you returned to the bench, he once again snatched the things from your hand.
Yes, he was a rude man.
The minutes passed, the candles continued to melt at the altar, you were praying in front of the golden statue of your lord while the soldier was resting on the benches, grunting at his wounds and trying to stay warm.
"Hey, nun, since you won't shut up come here, I think I know how you could keep that mouth busy" The man suggested with a cheeky smile, it was unheard of how he could say such things in the lord's house.
"Hey! That's enough of-…"
"It wasn't a question, come here or I'll come for you" his voice was sharp, and with no intention of continuing to listen to you, seeing how you froze in surprise he grumbled and took the trouble to walk towards you.
Right in front of the golden statue of your god, he subdued you to the ground and lifted your robe to reveal your underwear, that man was shameless because he simply buried his face between your asscheeks to inhale deeply.
"HEY! HEY" WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! STOP! YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" You begged him, confusion and disgust replaced with terror, but… he was a soldier, a man willing to sacrifice his life for his nation.
"Please, honey, aren't you supposed to be a helpful sweetheart? You promised to help me stay warm, and this is my last dinner before I die?" He murmured on your back, riding you without a word, his hands had already pulled down your underwear while you were busy in your thoughts.
"Oh my god, this can't be happening, I'm supposed to stay pure" You whimpered as you covered your face, too embarrassed by the situation but not trying to push the man away.
He was an angel sent by god to save the country, it would be so rude to reject any order he gave.
He ground his hips against yours in a messy manner, he hadn't even prepared you well when your pussy was already engulfing his cock.
"Wow, you're so tight, so it's true that nuns are virgins, right? I feel so lucky to be the one to take your chastity, dear." His voice was teasing in your ear as you squeezed your eyes shut to endure the sudden intrusion, you were Pretty sure you would bleed.
No one would pass by the cathedral at that time of night, much less in a storm, the clicking of both skins echoed in the enormous building, right in the eyes of your lord.
"P-please forgive me Father for I have sinned, forgive me so much" A hand grabbed your jaw to silence you.
"You better ask thanks to the Lord because you will soon have a son, I will take care of filling this pretty pussy of yours to the brim, okay, angel?" He mocked your prayers but the seriousness in his voice was immaculate, he really wanted to impregnate your womb with his seed.
Your legs were shaking as you tried to stay in the doggy position, the soldier was selfish, penetrating your wet cunt for the sole purpose of having his release and getting you pregnant.
"S-sir please slow down, I feel like you're going to break me" You begged, snot slipping out of your nose as well as tears at how disastrous the situation was, the problem wasn't that the man was using you, because he was part of the brave army that risked his life, it is logical that you want to help.
"... We shouldn't be doing this in the Father's house." Sob quietly, your body reacted so well to his touch and it was inevitable not to moan, causing echoes in the cathedral.
"No, no, angel, call me father, you don't want your lord to hear you acting like a slut in his holy home." His calloused hands squeezed your hips and he pulled you like a wolf would its prey towards its nest.
"My god, angel, you feel so good, I'm melting between your walls, I want to spill all my essence inside you, you're being so good for me, I promise you it will feel better" He whispered lovingly despite the furious thrusts. that you received. "Don't worry, this is what your god wants, right? Demigods are worshiped with flowers, real gods need blood." His tone felt so somber, his hand traveled to your crotch to caress, collecting said blood, your blood.
So if he died on the battlefield, he would at least have left his inheritance in the world and he wouldn't be completely forgotten, right? His greedy hands ran over every inch of your skin under your tunic, squeezing the flesh, he too seemed inexperienced too, moaning and letting out incoherencies as he ground his groin against you, saliva running down his jaw as he moaned like a dog, panting, his eyes rolling back, sharper sounds until you both trembled violently.
Just as he said, you were dripping, as soon as a mirror cascade came out of you and warm semen was present from your pussy, his member was already a little more flaccid as he observed such a work of art in front of him.
He didn't want to die, he wanted this stupid war to end so he could get this nun pregnant and raise a child together.
"It's okay, you'll be okay" he murmured one last time as he clung to you, taking you into his arms with a blank look, but his words weren't.
He promised that when all that was over he would return to you to take care of you and the baby, that was what he wanted most, a life without daily blood, peace.
It's a shame that the promise would never be fulfilled.
♡
#yandere x reader#yandere#yandere visual novel#14dwy ren#14 days with you ren#14 days with you#14dwy redacted#redacted x reader#smut#breeding k1nk#religion kink#priest kink#damn its midnight again
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I have some thoughts about Amazon's Fallout TV Show.
The show is of course disrespectful to West Coast Fallout, but in a more insulting way than just having the many iconic elements of the classic games be reused over and over again. You start to really feel as though that Bethesda resents the success and continued interest in New Vegas, and while that may be true, it doesn't explain the mountain of references to both the classic Fallouts and New Vegas.
I assume there was need to appeal to the fans of the West Coast, as the TV show is a large event and they would make a portion of viewership. There's all sorts of things sprinkled in, the Brotherhood is fashioned to be more medieval with monk robes and rituals, one of the props used for a pistol is a recreation of the stupid Hard Boiled magazine-fed revolver from Fallout 1. These references are all just borrowing from the aesthetics from prior games, though. It was probably expected that FNV fans would be happy with this representation alone.
Maybe they didn't see that there would be such a negative reaction to flattening all that has been built up in the West Coast, people would just be happy to see the NCR and New Vegas, even though they were nuked or left in ruin. Maybe people would point at the screen when they saw Robert House, not caring that his inclusion contradicts his ideology and goals in FNV. Why would they change the West Coast so much? Well, maybe they don't know what to do with it after FNV. Or that the fact that the West Coast has actual nations and progress doesn't fit well with Bethesda's view of the series of just being a perpetual apocalypse where you can explode raiders' heads while listening to 50s music. There is another reason I haven't seen discussed, but I need to first write about another part of the show that bothered me.
There's definite anti-capitalist themes in this show, as there is in all of Fallout. The Fallout show is different in the way that they aren't particularly background, just told in old world terminals and other storytelling. They are front and centre to the final few episodes of the series, but told in a very bad way. It's not the general system of capitalism caused America to keep declining to it's eventual fall anymore, it's rather disappointingly been changed to simply a shady cabal of evil capitalists that decided to drop the bomb because it would be profitable. And don't worry, the group trying to fight back against this aren't actual communists, they are rich Hollywood actors, so it's all good, they aren't like actual communists who deserve how they are treated under this America. It's rather a boring way of going about it.
It's the use of the line "War never changes." in the scene where this is all revealed that made me realise a potential reason why the slate in the West Coast was wiped clean. I think they are interpreting "War never changes." as "The world will always be in a state of perpetual war, new societies will arise but they will always fall as violence and cruelty is innate to human existence." rather than "War doesn't change despite how it's fought; no advance of technology or reasoning will change how pointless it is and the end result of suffering and destruction."
To demonstrate this, the NCR must fall. Just have Vault-Tec nuke it like they did for the old world, no matter how unsatisfying of a fall for the NCR that may be.
With the Marvel-esque sequel stinger of New Vegas being a setting of season 2, I'm morbidly curious if they will continue to mess up further, but maybe it's time to just let go and stick to the old games that I actually enjoy.
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xu minghao — moonlit chronicles : memories & commitments.
the moon cast a soft glow through the windows, illuminating the cozy living room of your apartment.
minghao and you sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a mountain of freshly laundered clothes. the repetitive sound of fabric being smoothed out filled the room as you worked side by side.
"can you believe how much laundry we go through in a week?" minghao chuckled, breaking the comfortable silence.
you smiled in agreement, "i know. it's never-ending,"
as you reached for another shirt, your hand brushed against something tucked away in the small cupboard below.
curious, you opened it and found a dusty photo album nestled among old magazines and knickknacks. minghao glanced over, setting aside the shirt he was folding.
"hey, look what i found," you said, pulling out the album and flipping through the pages until you came across an old school picture, where you both were no older that 6.
"wow, i haven't seen this picture in years," minghao remarked, studying the photo of his younger self surrounded by classmates.
"do you remember anything from that day?" you asked, curiosity piqued.
minghao paused, memories flickering across his face. "actually, yeah. it was the day of the puzzle challenge in class,"
"and do you remember what you did to my puzzles?"
"yeah," he chuckles, "you were so close to finishing it, and i..."
"complete the sentence, xu minghao,"
the scene shifted to a flashback of a younger you sitting in a classroom, surrounded by scattered puzzle pieces. the puzzle neared completion, every piece fitting snugly into place.
just as you were about to place the final piece, minghao swatted it away, causing you to gasp in horror as minghao grinned mischievously.
"...and i poured water on your hard work. hey, don't tell me you're still mad at me for that,"
"i'll never forgive you," you say jokingly.
"sorry, couldn't resist," he teased.
as you continued to flip through the pages of the dusty photo album, your eyes landed on another school picture. this one of you and minghao, holding hands and smiling brightly at the camera.
"hey, look at this one," you said, a fond smile tugging at your lips as you showed the photo to minghao.
minghao's eyes widened in surprise as he took in the image. "i remember this," he murmured, a nostalgic warmth spreading through him.
the scene shifted to a flashback of a younger minghao and you standing in the schoolyard. tears glistened in minghao's eyes as he held both his ears, his lower lip trembling. "i'm sorry, y/n," little minghao said, his voice choked with emotion.
"it's okay, minghao," little you replied softly, reaching out to comfort him.
with a deep breath, minghao wiped away his tears and took your hand in his. together, the two of you ran outside to where your parents were waiting, eager to show them that you had made up and that you were friends again.
minghao took the album from your hands, his fingers tracing the worn edges as he flipped through the pages.
memories, both cherished and forgotten, came flooding back as he scanned each photograph.
then, he stumbled upon a particular page, and his breath caught in his throat. there, captured in the photograph, was a moment that seemed frozen in time.
a soft chuckle escaped minghao's lips as he stared at the image. "i remember this," he murmured, his voice filled with nostalgia.
you glanced over at him, curiosity evident in your expression. "what is it?" you asked, leaning closer to see what had captured minghao's attention.
a rush of memories flooded your mind as you took in the scene.
there you were, a younger version of yourself, wearing a tiara and holding a delicate flower in your hand. with younger minghao beside you, leaning in to kiss your cheek.
minghao's voice broke through the nostalgic haze, bringing you back to the present. "do you remember the context behind this picture, y/n?"
you nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips as you recalled the childhood promise made in innocence.
"you will marry me when we get big," young hao didn't even ask. he simply declared, "promise me, y/n,"
"i promise, hao," little you said, "pinky promise,"
minghao's gaze softened, a tender smile gracing his lips. "you kept your promise, y/n." with that simple acknowledgment, a sense of warmth and contentment washed over you both.
hand in hand, you closed the photo album, knowing that some promises made in childhood endure a lifetime.
and as the moon continued to cast its gentle glow, you and minghao shared a moment of quiet gratitude for the memories woven into the fabric of your lives.
#seventeen x reader#seventeen fluff#seventeen imagines#svt imagines#svt x reader#strnsvt's writing#seventeen#minghao x reader#xu minghao#minghao x you#minghao#minghao x y/n#the8#the8 x reader#svt the8#minghao fluff#minghao imagines
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Yesssss, the bachira fuckers were summoned!! I'm personally thirsting over cockwarming him! <3
content: gn!reader. cockwarming, raw sex, bachira's impatient and whiney<3 to you & the other anons that asked for this, apologies for the late answer!
— . ｡˚ ♡ bachira has always been an impatient lil thing.
bachira mumbles discontentedly into your ear as he hugs your body to his, rolling his hips up into you a little, teasing both you and himself with the nudge of his cockhead deeper inside you. "baby."
you hush him, pushing his curious hands down and locking them back around your waist as they try to crawl up under your shirt.
your eyes are still on the TV infront of you, the movie playing out on the screen one that bachira has already watched and has no interest in seeing again — and he scowls at the actors on scene, pissed off that a tacky film like this one has stolen your attention from him.
"baby," he leans in and says it with his lips right against the shell of your ear this time, and you sigh, flicking the remote towards the TV and pausing the movie before you finally pay him a piece of your mind.
"what is it, meguru?"
"can't take it anymore." he whines, allowing himself another thrust into your warm, wet walls as he says it. your breath hitches when his cock drags past a sweeter spot, and his eyes glimmer. "wanna fuck?"
"you're the one that brought this up, meguru." you groan, grabbing his face by the chin to press a kiss to the slant of his nose. "cockwarming you during the movie was your idea."
"well, it was a bad idea." bachira huffs, rolling his eyes, snuggling his face into your neck and tempting you to brush away the soft locks of his fringe and kiss his forehead softly. "don't wanna do it anymore. the movie's boring, and you feel so fuckin' good."
the remote is still in your hand, and he peers at it, at your finger that's hovering over the play button. "be a good boy for me, baby." you run a hand through his hair, causing a shiver of pleasure to run through him — his cock twitches inside you, and you swallow heavily as he giggles knowingly, suggestively.
"we'll stay like this," you say, voice firm. "till the movie's over."
you feel a hot, thick bead of precum swell from the tip of his cock and leak into you as he fucks up into you again. "please?" he sings. "we can watch the movie after."
"n-no," you repeat, blushing when you stutter, bringing your thighs closer together. "you asked for this, baby. there's only twenty two minutes left anyway."
"i've waited two thirds of this dumb movie." he whines, indignant — and god, his cock does feel so good, snugly fitted into your heat, and you know it'll feel so much better if he moves, if he lays you back on the sofa and throws your legs over his shoulders and fucks you senseless — but still, you relent.
"be good for me right now," you tell him, kissing him on the lips shortly. "and i'll let you fuck me any way you want, once i'm done watching this."
he grins. "you'll let me cum into you as many times as i want, mhm? milk my cock for me?"
"yes." you say, and his smile widens. "you'll take it when i make you cum over and over again? lay there nice and sweet for me and let me fuck you dumb? promise?"
your face feels hotter, at how fucking blunt he is, but you nod anyway, tearing your gaze away from him and focusing on the TV again — like hell if you can properly watch the rest of the film now, though. "yeah, i—i promise."
"heh," he giggles, pulling you closer again, pressing down on your lower stomach as he makes himself comfortable. the weight of his hand pulls another moan from you, but he clicks his tongue. "go on, watch the movie then. gotta roll those credits quick, so we can get to it."
"mhm," you blink, trying to clear your head as you lift the remote back towards the TV, and press play. as the sound comes back on, he rolls his hips up again, cockhead hitting your sweetest spot in one go, and you'll be damned if he hadn't done that on purpose. "f-fuck!"
"watch the movie, baby." bachira repeats, wicked smile so apparent in his voice, and shit, you sit there and stare at the screen — waiting for those fucking twenty two minutes to go by.
#☆༉ rekha™#☆༉ ferveloqui.#bachira smut#bachira x reader#bachira meguru smut#bachira meguru x reader#blue lock smut#blue lock x reader#bllk smut#bllk x reader
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Stay Alive (7)
BTS poly!ot7 x Reader
Magical Creatures AU
Series Masterlist
Warnings: None
NOT BETA READ (I did try the best to my ability. If you would like to be my beta reader feel free to DM me :)
You had been walking down the hallway towards Namjoon’s room for your daily visit when someone from the room in front of his stomped out. The nurse had a scowl on her face as she turned around to bang on the door that shut closed. She threw the files in her hand onto the floor in a fit of rage, fists curled up into a ball.
“Rot in a hole, you son of a bitch!” She screamed, banging on the door again. You had frozen in your steps, watching the scene unfold with wide eyes. You tried to quietly shuffle your feet along, but the scuffing of your shoes had caught the lady’s attention.
“What are you looking at?” You shrunk back into your shoulders at her cold stare. With an upturned sneer of her lips, she marched off from where you had come from.
Namjoon had immediately picked up on your distressed emotions from his bedroom so he quickly stepped out to check on you. “(Y/N)?” He had startled you, causing you to flinch. “Is everything okay?”
The large man took in your wide eyes the corner of your lips downturned. “Yes. I'm fine, Namjoon.” You shook your head, giving him a small smile as you started to calm down. “The other nurses aren't really nice.” You told him, glancing down the hall.
“Are they being mean to you?” The man spoke quickly, following closely behind you as you walked into his room. “I can speak to Hanseol about it.”
Your lips twitched at how informal Namjoon seemed to be with your boss. But then again, Namjoon had been in the facility for a long while. “No.” You shook your head with a grateful smile. “It's fine. I just saw one out in the hallway.”
“Ah.” Namjoon sighed deeply, nodding his head in understanding. “You mean the one coming out of Yoongi's room?”
“Yoongi?” You questioned, turning to him curious about the man’s friend. From what you were thinking the man was probably not the easiest to take care of. He must have made the nurse mad somehow if she was banging on his door.
“Yes. He's been here almost as long as me.” Namjoon explained. “He was my first friend here.”
Your face beamed when you saw the man’s small smile overtake his face as he thought about his friend. His dimple had made an appearance and you would never tire of it. His words seemed to make the cogs in your head turn as he explained that Yoongi was the second patient to enter the facility. With that in mind, his door number was two.
“So the numbers on your doors and files-”
“Are how we each came in.” Namjoon smiled. “I was the first, Yoongi came next. Then Hobi, Jin, Jungkook, Taehyung, and finally Jimin.”
Your eyebrows furrowed as Namjoon said Jimin was the last one. “But there are 50 patients, so there are more after Jimin.” You spoke out loud.
“Yes, but we are the closest and have been here the longest.” Namjoon told you. His lips turned downward as he sighed. “10 years go by slow.”
Your eyes went wide as you looked at him with worry. “You've been here for 10 years? Underground?” You asked, starting to feel sad that they weren’t allowed to go up in the sun.
“It wasn't underground at first.” The man shook his head. “Once more patients started coming in Hanseol had us moved down here for more rooms.”
You squinted your eyes at the man’s name. “Are you close with Hanseol?” You asked, thinking back to how your boss told you Namjoon was an important patient to him. Also it was the second time Namjoon mentioned the man in an informal way. He said he would speak to Hanseol about the nurses being mean to you so you thought it meant that they were close enough to where Namjoon could get whatever.
“All I'll say is that I'm here because of him.” Namjoon sighed deeply, his jaw locking. You frowned thinking you were at fault for his irritated expression.
Namjoon suddenly froze as his eyes seemed to gloss over, head tilting. You were about to ask him if he was okay when he suddenly returned to normal and looked at you.
“I have to go out for a moment. Would you mind to come along?” The man asked you, leading you to the door.
You tried not to frown at how he had acted just now, but nodded your head anyways. “Not at all.”
As you two stepped out, you looked back over at the door on the other side of the hallway. The papers the nurse had thrown to the floor were still in front of the door, strewn everywhere. You walked over to pick them all up and gather them. Namjoon watched with furrowed eyebrows at how polite you were to pick up something that had nothing to do with you.
“The nurse left the files.” You spoke to him. As you went over the pages, you began to pout. “She didn't get anything done for today. Should I do them?” You asked Namjoon, turning to him.
“He's not your patient.” Namjoon shrugged, knowing how his friend tended to act.
“Would you feel upset if I said I was curious about Yoongi?” You suddenly asked, causing the man to look at you oddly.
“Why would you be?” He asked.
“You said he's been here for as long as you have.” You started. “I want to see if he's like you. Besides, if he's friends with all of you I want to be too.”
With the excuse you had given it almost made Namjoon laugh out loud. He knew exactly how his best friend was as a person. It was tough for anyone to speak to him without feeling incompetent. He had a no-care attitude that got on a lot of people’s nerves.
Namjoon knew the moment you walked in Yoongi would eat you up and spit you back out. However he admired you for the way you wanted to meet the others. You had already met the majority of them and it would come time you would have to know all of them. As much as Namjoon wanted to warn you about Yoongi he found it best to let you know the man yourself.
“Be my guest.” When Namjoon gave you a response, your face lit up causing a blush to spread on the man’s face.
You turned around to knock on Yoongi’s door, only hearing shuffling from the other side. Looking at Namjoon, he nodded his head telling you to open it. As you did, you stuck your head into the dark room. There was no light from what you could see and it made you shuffle your feet along the floor for fear or running into something.
Turning around, you tried to find Namjoon but noticed he was walking down the hallway in a hurry. You guess it had to do with what he needed to do before you stopped at Yoongi’s door.
“What do you want Namjoon?” A voice resounded from somewhere in the room.
You froze in your place, trying to make out some kinds of shapes in the dark. “Namjoon left.” You called out, rubbing your arms as you suddenly felt scared from not being able to see anything.
“What are you doing?” You felt someone behind you, whipping your head back to catch them. However their presence quickly disappeared as soon as you did.
“Your nurse left your room upset. She didn't do her check up.” You spoke out loud. Your eyes squinted as a very small night light seemed to turn on from somewhere in the room. It only allowed light to go around the area, keeping most of the corners and floor dark.
However with what you could see you noticed the figure of a man walking away from the light he just turned on. He walked closer to you, causing you to step back keeping your eyes on him. He tilted his head to the side as he watched you carefully.
“So?” He questioned.
“I'll do it for her.” You told him.
Yoongi squinted his eyes at the smile on your face, frowning to himself. He had already known who you were the moment you walked in but he had just assumed the others were over exaggerating your overly sweet presence.
“You're too nice. Don't do that for her.” He scrunched up his nose. “She's a bitch.”
“She's just doing her job.” You suddenly frowned, looking at him with an upset expression.
He rolled his eyes, turning away from you to move around his room. “Wouldn't need to if we weren't here.”
You tried to look around more, to figure out what the man looked like so you opted to find the light switches. “It's really dark in here.”
“Don't turn the lights on.” You froze up as he was suddenly behind you, keeping your body trapped. “They bother me.” You felt him relax against you.
You turned around to look up at him, trying to find something. All you got was his round cheeks that were under a harsh stare.
“What are you a vampire?” You snorted, looking up at him with your lips pressed tightly. When his face didn’t move an inch you nodded your head and tried to escape his grasp. “Okay...well I can't really see.”
“And it's my problem?” The man questioned. Your shoulders dropped as you realized he was going to be difficult. He was nothing like Namjoon and you had no idea how he was friends with this guy. But then again, being stuck in the same place for years probably brought you closer together.
Yoongi took in how your shoulders had dropped, your face turning down as you grew sad. He sighed silently, rolling his eyes at the way his emotions betrayed him. “Let me see my file.”
He clicked his tongue when you handed it over without much thought, seeing how you suddenly perked up from his words. He flipped through the pages and turned around to find a pen to write something in them.
“There. I gave you all that you needed. It should be good.” He turned back to you in a hurry, shoving the file in your direction.
“Oh.” You frowned in confusion. “You didn't have to do that. I don't think you wrote them down correctly anyways.” You purse your lips as you whisper the last part.
“My vitals never change. Don't bother with them.” Yoongi crossed his arms, waiting for you to do something. However, when you just kept your eyes on him he became uncomfortable. “Are you going back to Namjoon?”
“I'm going to go see Jungkook for a bit.” Your smile returned to your face, making Yoongi look at you in question.
He was suspicious of you for sure, but everyone else seemed to think that you were a saint sent from heaven. At least most of them did. Hobi told them all to be wary of you but only because there was something blocking him from entering your memories.
“That boy is always asking for attention.” Yoongi rolled his eyes when you mentioned the younger boy.
“I find it endearing.” You laughed. “It's cute.”
“Yes. He is adorable.” Yoongi huffed, moving to his bed to lay down on it.
“Aren't you sweet.” He snapped his head towards you. While he was positive you were being sarcastic, the kind look in your eye made him question if you were being serious.
“Majorly.” He grunted, turning to look up at the ceiling with closed eyes. “Absolutely tooth rotting sweet.”
“I better get going.” You spoke after a giggle from his response. “Have a good rest of your day, Yoongi.”
Yoongi was one of only two from the group who couldn’t tell right away what kind of person someone was. The others had some odd way of knowing if the person they were speaking to was being sincere in the way they acted or talked. They could go on and on about the kind of person you were but Yoongi was still the one who needed to see for himself.
Your words seem to cause his non-beating heart to feel warm. There was something about hearing those kinds of things for the first time in a long while that made him feel again. He didn’t want to tell the others that they might just be right about you because his pride would not allow him to. But he knew one day they would know that he agreed with them. Especially with how you were so obvious with how kind of person you were. It was something that gave him hope.
“After so long.”
Series Masterlist
#bts fanfic#bts army#bts#bts jungkook#bts jimin#bangtan#bangtan sonyeondan#run bts#namjoon#jimin#taehyung#bts v#bts jin#yoongi#hoseok#jhope#hobi#jung hoseok#bts namjoon#bts jung hoseok#bts jungguk#kpop fanfic#jungkook#bts jhope#bts hobi#park jimin#jimin bts#bts taehyung#bts imagines#kim namjoon
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YANDERE! BATFAM W/ MILES MORALES (BUT MAKE IT GENDER NEUTRAL)! READER
[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] [PREVIOUS CHAPTER ]
GENERAL CW/TW: Spoilers for Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse. Typical Yandere themes of stalking, violence, and whatnot.
PART SPECIFIC CW/TW: Soft, awfully wholesome scene with your father. Like seriously it’s like the third time I watched the whole movie but this particular scene still breaks me
current status: unedited
summary: you get replaced by peter last minute as the one that plugs in the goober. but you won’t let that happen. not when he still has a whole life to get back to.
Reply if you’d like to be added to the taglist!
WHAT’S UP DANGER
( PART FOUR )
“Aye, Getting old they doubted us, makes it that more marvelous. Sign ‘em up cause I’m on this vibes and I get synonymous.
What’s up, danger?
Aye, don’t be a stranger!”
Look, because of the Spiderman: Miles Morales game I’m a bit biased.
I don’t want uncle Aaron to die damn it. But yeah the Prowler does exist and you have been keeping contact with him.
But for the sake of keeping the dude alive though he’ll only physically come in act 2 of this series, we gucci?
Although this means you lose a lot of the development Miles gets from his death. I’ll try my best to make the events as natural as possible
Anyways, you come back to the spider gang hanging out at Jason and Roy’s apartment.
The gang essentially jumpscares you (thank god for spider sense) with a suit of your own.
Except it was one size too big.
And there were holes at the eye sockets for you to actually see through.
“Ehrm . . . Thanks ?”
“You don’t gotta pretend you like it, kid.”
“Ahaha…”
“It’ll fit eventually.”
You begin sweating quite a bit. Something felt so off here.
You notice that Jason was looking straight at you.
Which I mean, anyone would be m e l t i n g if someone like Red Hood was staring right at them so it’s a miracle you aren’t a puddle at the moment.
Perhaps it’s cause you spent so much time with your crush, Gwen, that you’ve pretty much gotten used to hot people looking at you directly.
Still, you turn away and hide your face. Utterly clueless as to how react in this type of situation.
The relatively peaceful circumstance doesn’t last long as everyone’s spider sense is alerted and the door bell rings. A mechanical tentacle shoots through the lock, completely shattering it.
“Cute place. Real homey.”
Oh great, it’s Liv.
“Get out of here, kid.”
“For the last time I’m a legal adult—“
“Mira todas estas arañitas. (Well, look at these little spiders.)”
Two more of Kingpin’s men show up, Tombstone and Scorpion.
God, fucking damn it—
Olivia spots the new flashdrive Peni made around Peter’s neck and grins.
“Oh, I think I’ll be taking that.”
You hold in your attraction to the woman and duck as a fight ensues.
Scorpion takes notice of you.
“Niñito dale. (Go ahead, little one.)”
“Prepárate a morir (Prepare to die) — Ah, man stupid pillows!”
Before you could get your body bashed in by the cyborg, Red Hood takes a shot his tail just in time.
“You good?”
“Y-yeah.”
Your spider senses were all over the place just like with Damian. What is it with black haired hot guys and their danger levels-
You manage to slip away, flashdrive in hand, courtesy of invisibility finally working in your favor.
“All vehicles in the area we have a disturbance involving multiple spider . . . people ?”
“On my way.”
Dick wasn’t the type to spend Christmas in Gotham.
But the tone of his brother’s voice — how broken and desperate it was — alarmed him.
It seemed that his baby brother finally fell in love.
It was about time really.
Although he was terribly curious as to who the person the Damian Wayne had fallen for.
You couldn’t just be a normal student from school right?
He finds around the scene looking terrified and scared.
A perfect opportunity to get to know you a little better.
“You alright there citizen?”
“Huh? Yeah I’m fine.”
“You seem pretty calm despite being in a police car and all.”
“My dad’s a cop. He gives me rides in one plenty of times.”
“Jefferson Davis, right?”
“You know him?”
“Well, it’s hard not knowing the guy who’s been looking all over for you. He spread the news to several police departments.”
“That . . . sounds a lot like him . . . “
“You don’t have to worry. I won’t tell him where you are. You need some space, right?”
“Right.”
Nothing outstanding so far. You were cute albeit awkward. But he could see that you were going through things at the moment. Early adulthood is a bitch after all.
You kept quiet most of the ride.
You were so distracted that you didn’t even question how he knew what school you went to and the location of your dorms.
“Hey, I’m a little curious, why don’t you have his last name? Family problems?”
“No, it’s something with my grandfather. I don’t think it’s within my place to share.”
“Well alright.”
You two arrive at your dormitory and you make sure to give the place a good old scan just in case you were getting followed.
“I’ll see ya when I see ya, [Y/N]. Give me a call if you ever need help.”
“Got ya.”
You realize that you don’t even know the man’s name much less a way to contact him.
But as you look back, the car he was in had already driven away.
Time wasn’t going to wait for you.
You knew that. You were trying your darn hardest to chase after it.
But you weren’t fast enough.
“[Y/N]. We came to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye? We can say goodbye at the collider.”
“You’re not getting it. You’re staying here.”
“I need to be there, so you can all go home.”
“They are going home [Y/N]. I’m the only one staying.”
“You’re taking my place.”
Your voice trembled as you say those words. And unbeknownst to you, Jason (and to be fair the rest of the spider-people are out there eavesdropping too) shivered as he heard your words.
“If you stay here you’ll die.”
“I’m doing what needs to be done. I just wanted you to hear it from me.”
“What about MJ?”
“Not everything works out, kid. I need the goober.”
“That’s not fair! You gotta tell them I can do this.”
It took Jason all his might to not reach out and embrace you.
He knew how it felt to be replaced. Circumstances differ but still, a connection was made.
Although he couldn’t be there for you now as you had to grow into the Spiderman you had to be, he promised to himself that he will in the future.
After all, if you two were partners in another universe, what stops it from happening in this one as well?
“It wasn’t their decision.”
“I’m ready, I promise— ah—!”
Peter knocks you down, jumping to the ceiling and dangling you by a web.
Jason clenched his teeth. As much as this man knew so much about him and his vulnerabilities, and how he knew this was completely necessary it still ached to see his destined partner getting thrown around.
“Then venom strike me right now or turn invisible on command so you can get past me.”
Peter webs your entire body and sticks you to the chair your roommate always used.
“Look I know how much you want this kid. But you don’t have it yet. I’m sorry.”
“When will I know I’m ready?!”
He then webs your mouth and takes the goober from your hands.
“You won’t. It’s a leap of faith. That’s all it is [Y/N]. A leap of faith.”
And you’re left alone, stuck with webs all over your body. Unable to move or talk.
You hear a knock to your door.
“[Y/N]. . . ! Uh . . . [Y/N] it’s your dad. Please open the door.”
Unfortunately you couldn’t so you just use thrust your body closer to him.
“[Y/N] I can see your shadow moving around.”
“Yeah okay I get it. I get it yes… still ignoring me. Look can we talk for a minute?”
You nod. Internally facepalming after realizing he can’t see you doing so.
“Look sometimes people drift apart [Y/N] and I don’t want that to happen to us, okay? I know I don’t always do what you need me to do or say what you need me to say but I’m…”
“But I see this - this — spark in you, it’s - it’s amazing. It’s why I push you but . . . it’s yours and whatever you choose to do with it you’d be great.”
You feel tears falling from your face as your father spoke.
All those days feeling the pressure of everyone’s expectations on you
As [Y/N], as the Spiderman of this universe.
You were an adult in age, yes. But in the face of all these events your youth and inexperience slapped you in your face.
You wanted to run away. You wanted everything to be over and done with.
But you realize, you were the only one who could do this. For the sake of the spider-gang. For Gotham.
You didn’t know if you were going to succeed but wasn’t that what life was?
A leap of faith.
“Look, call me when you can.”
“I love you. You don’t have to say it back though.”
And your father leaves.
You close your eyes. Thinking back to all the moments you’ve failed, all the times you’ve broken a bone or two trying to learn.
Time wasn’t going to wait for you. But why run after it when you can web-sling it up?
You use your venom powers to get rid of the webs and do you best to get to Jason’s place. He had to have an extra, better suit lying around right? Anything was better than what the gang gave you.
You ring the bell to his house completely expecting him to not be there and potentially having to break in.
But you stand corrected.
“Took you long enough.”
taglist: @vanessa-boo @w31rdg1rl @zlatolait-writes @ice-cream-writes-stuff @hakudaru @violet2507 @sleepy-maenad @yell0wdreams @humanoid606 @holybatflapexpert
#yandere batfam#yandere x reader#damian wayne x reader#dick grayson x reader#jason todd x reader#tim drake x reader#yandere#yandere bruce wayne x reader#yandere damian wayne#yandere damian wayne x reader#yandere nightwing#yandere dick grayson#yandere tim drake#yandere tim drake x reader#yandere jason todd x reader#yandere jason todd#yandere robin x reader#yandere batman x reader#yandere batfam x reader#yandere dc x reader#yandere dc#batman x reader#damian wayne#tim drake#jason todd#dick grayson#bruce wayne#batman#robin#yandere red hood x reader
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Hi! I really love The (Y/N)’s Pamphlet fic you wrote, especially Hook's reaction to (Y/N) having a crush, and I was curious about how Hook might have developed feelings for them? (And if the other villains felt the same way as Hook but are better at hiding it? 👀)
Love this question!!! Hook and (Y/N)’s relationship is something I’ll definitely elaborate more on when I write about how they met, but for now I’ll give you the general outline! Enjoy ❤️
🪝Hooked on a Feeling🪝
(Y/N)s first interaction with Hook was when they saw Peter Pan messing with the ex-pirate
Like Pan was REALLY causing Hook to throw a fit
(Y/N) tricked Peter into leaving the scene, allowing them to take Hook to the side and help calm him down. They gave him their water bottle to cool off and took him away from all the prying eyes of the guests
From then on (Y/N) has always been Hooks biggest supporter, next to Smee of course
In the beginning, Hook was still wary of (Y/N)’s intentions, not used to having someone who genuinely sided with him
But it’s the little things that made him realize his feelings for (Y/N)
When the pain of his amputation starts to flare up, (Y/N) will get him an ice pack and/or some painkillers
(Y/N) makes sure that no park goers pull or touch his hook
That one time some brat pushed (Y/N) into a fountain and shook got a full view of them in a wet T-shirt
Hook and (Y/N) have dinner together every Tuesday, Hook loves the praise and (Y/N) loves the free food
Hooks crush on (Y/N) really became known when Medusas alligators broke free from their enclosure and began chasing Hook
To panicked to notice, Hook leapt into (Y/N) arms, screeching for them to save him
(Y/N), holding the grown ass man in their arms, kicked Brutus in the snout and kept ahold of him until Medusa was able to get control of her pets
Hook realized where he was, and when he looked up at (Y/N)s worried face…..
Yeah that did it, the man was ‘hooked’
From then on Hook was more open to his flirting, despite the ridicule from his fellow villains. He just brushes it off as them being jealous (he’s totally right)
Even though he has a crush on (Y/N), it’s not the healthiest
He needs CONSTANT validation from them, Hook isn’t the most secure scallywag
May or may not have stolen some personal items from (Y/N)’s locker, but what do you expect from a pirate?
But most of the time Hook is the perfect gentleman, (Y/N) prefers to hang with him when the other villains get too raunchy
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LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO
cw: angsty fluff? is that a thing? light mentions of alcohol and weed, suna is drunk and silly, reader is designated driver (drink safely, my friends!!!), heavy mutual pining, inspired by that normal people scene (brothers...iykyk)
For a midsummer night, the breeze outside is surprisingly chilly.
Feeling more like September than July, your car window is barely cracked to let a bit of air inside the small stuffy vehicle.
The streets are barren as you drive through the backroads of your hometown—which is expected, as no one sane tends to willingly drive at 1:31 AM. Not unless they received a brief text from a blonde-haired setter asking you to handle a “liability” for him.
Equally intrigued as you were annoyed, you agreed to his weird request and he dropped a pin to his location almost instantly.
You remember him talking about some lowkey Inarizaki reunion this weekend—just like the old days, shitty booze in someone’s parent’s basement and cheap weed from the town’s local plug. Pro-volleyball players and all, you suppose some things never change.
With the lack of details Atsumu gave you, you don’t know what to expect as you drive to the marker on your GPS.
Seeing how he was cognizant enough to text you, you doubt he’s the one in need of assistance. It’s unlike Osamu to get belligerent enough to leave a party early, so he’s pretty much ruled out of your list of suspects, too. And hell would freeze over the day you see Kita drunk enough to need a designated driver.
So pulling up to the address and seeing a familiar headache comically slumped on the front steps of the porch, you don't know why you ever dared to be curious.
When you see him, you think he’s sleeping. It’s not until you park the car and make your way towards his slumped frame that you can confirm; even while his eyes are closed and he’s not necessarily awake, Suna is very much not asleep.
Nothing but an unruly mop of brunette slightly sways as he bobs his head from side to side, almost like he’s following along with a one-sided conversation in his thoughts. He’s alone, aside from a few discarded beer cans and the diluted thumping of the music from inside.
The anxiety inside of you can’t help from asking, "Did they just leave you here?"
You don’t expect an answer from him—more so thinking out loud at the brute stupidity and lack of safety from the whole situation. You make a mental note to scold Atsumu for his critical thinking skills the next time you see him.
At the sudden sound of your voice, Suna notices you walking toward him. Wrapped in a sweatshirt nearly swallowing you whole, he grins brightly. Your genuine concern paired with your silly choice of apparel somehow fits the situation nicely, he decides.
"Nah," he slowly shakes his head. Through squinted eyes, he hazily meets your gaze with a teasing smile, "They told me to sit and stay, like a good boy."
You don’t know why his words light a fire in your stomach, and even more alarmingly, you don’t know why you don’t hate it. You can’t help but laugh a bit at his drunken words.
Nodding your head to where he (somehow) comfortably sits on the concrete stairs, you hum in agreement.
"I’m surprised you actually listened," you exhale.
The summer breeze blows once more, and while it makes you shiver, Suna finds it refreshing compared to the stuffy confines of someone’s childhood basement.
He shrugs lazily as he presses his palms onto the porch, slowly bracing himself to stand.
"Only ‘cause I knew you were already on your way," he tries to play it off casually, like his insides weren't churning with acidic excitement to see you tonight. “More scared of you than I am of them."
He’s always been an honest drunk, more deadpan and blunt than his usual reserved facade. You bite your tongue at the pride that swells in your chest with the honesty of his remark.
"Good.”
As he stands, Suna stumbles slightly against the wooden railing of the deck, leaving you rushing to his side to support his stupor. He giggles at his own lack of awareness before regaining his composure, using the railing for support as he mumbles out a sleepy “M’fine.”
Not fully believing him, you let your hands linger a bit by his side, not quite touching him but still close enough to be prepared for another tumble.
Suna takes a deep breath to sober himself and opens his eyes to face you. He stares at you for a moment or two, eyes flickering through your features as he struggles to decide which one to focus on. The way your cupid’s bow scrunches in thought. How your pupils dilate with the lack of light. The stray piece of hair blown over your eyes and resting in the middle of your forehead.
It’s beautiful, he thinks. All of it. How easily breathtaking you can be on a chilly summer’s night, in an empty street, wearing a giant sweater, with a man who is irrevocably in love with you.
But, he knows he’s too drunk to be thinking like this.
He closes his eyes once more, grounding himself with the crisp inhale.
"It feels like the sidewalk is moving."
He hears your laughter and immediately opens his eyes again to see it—and, oh, he adores the sight. Flushed cheeks and glimmering eyes, he completely soaks in the moment of you entertaining his terribly lame joke. He’d take a moment to thank the stars watching above, but he doesn’t dare to look away for a second.
"I promise you, it’s not," you whisper, once again supporting his side and beginning the so-close but so-far-away walk back to your car. “How much did you even have to drink?”
His head plops onto your shoulder, “Never ask a man how much he’s had to drink. Weren’t you ever taught that?”
You scoff and he wants to kiss you, wants to taste it on his tongue and savor it forever. But he can barely lift his head, so he chooses to ignore the overwhelming urge.
Before he knows it, as if his feet were moving on their own, he's leaning up against the passenger side of your car.
“I don’t consider you a man,” your voice calls his attention back to reality, “I consider you a nuisance.”
He hums at your words, again finding his drunk gaze unable to be pulled away from you. Leaning against your car, he giddily smiles at seemingly nothing at all.
When you're about to usher him into the passenger seat, he speaks up, and it's not what you expect. Eyes still lost in yours, he wonders.
"Do I still have pupils?"
The question catches you off guard, has you shaking your head in disbelief and adoration at the nuisance before you. His eyes bore into yours, pupils still intact and practically shaped like hearts as he awaits your answer.
"Yeah," you reply. "They're about the size of saucers right now, but yes, you have pupils."
"S'fine,” Suna, as sleepy as he is, doesn't miss a beat. “They always get like that when I see you, anyways."
And something is suddenly different. In the streetlights illuminating from above, the moment turns intimate like the magnetic flip of a coin.
His words aren't flirty or teasing, they're genuine. Pure. His gaze leaves little room to argue with the fact that while he’s dizzy and mumbling and not nearly in the right state of mind, he’s honest, nonetheless.
And it feels wrong to take advantage of that.
“Okay,” you softly decide, opening the door and gently ushering his lanky body beneath its roof, “let’s go.”
He complies without restraint, lets you cover his head when it nearly skims the roof and buckle him in with caution. He rests his cheek against the cool window for the entire way to his apartment. It’s a quick drive, and you learn that Suna looks just as pretty illuminated in the red lights as he does in the green ones.
When your car is parked and his apartment complex taunts you from across the street, you call his name.
“Suna?”
“...”
“Rintaro?”
“Hmmph?”
Your hand is gentle on his shoulder, a featherlight weight to let him know you’ve arrived. And he knows—in fact, he was awake the whole drive. Watching the moon follow your car and relishing in the smell of your perfume invading his senses.
He feels you tap his shoulder again, “Do you need help getting out?”
“Y’know,” he turns his head to lazily send you a smile, “you shouldn’t try and get your hands on a man when he’s drunk.”
Your palm sweats against the steering wheel. He’s so infuriating and you want to kiss him—two things you’ve officially decided are not mutually exclusive. You choose to fight off a grin, instead.
“Well, you don’t usually need help getting out of the car when you're sober.”
“Yeah, but even if I was sober, I’d still want y’to touch me.”
The coin flips again. Words that are usually meant to be dirty or promiscuous are pouring out from his soul and directly into your heart. He means them, and both of you know it.
Something inside of you aches to grab his hand, so you do. You scratch the inevitable itch and hold his palm in yours. He lets you with ease, even squeezing it for good measure as he delicately plays with your fingers.
You squeeze his hand right back, and he knows it's saying all the things you can't right now.
With a warm belly, you smile softly, “Go to bed, Rintaro.”
Hearts in his eyes, he nods and opens the door. He leaves your car and crosses the street with a newfound caution to get home safely. Because he knows that while tomorrow inevitably will come, tonight—that feeling in your car—can never be taken from him.
On the elevator ride up to his apartment, he can’t help but flex the hand in his pocket—the one that squeezed yours a few moments ago.
Still trying to relish in the faint feeling of your skin on his, Suna begs himself not to be a coward when he’s sober in the morning.
#suna x reader#suna rintaro x reader#suna x you#suna rintaro x you#suna fic#suna rintaro fic#suna angst#suna rintaro angst#suna fluff#suna rintaro fluff#hq suna#haikyuu suna
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alone together
pairing: knight!steven harrington x princess fem!reader
wc: 1.5K
warnings: none, a moment of sexual tension, but it's clean.
summary: a knight and a princess alone in a gallery staring at art. nothing more.
A/N: kinda 'inspired' by the daphne and duke scene from brigerton season1 in the art gallery and also the song from the unofficial musical. also I kinda would love to do more for this au, so if anyone likes they could request ideas. also this idea came to fruition cause I was staring at the birth of venus painting at work.
masterlist / steve harrington
the gallery was one of two places your parents allowed you to occupy without being watched by thirty people. that and the castle where you’re trapped behind layers of brick and armored knights. and honestly the gallery wasn’t much different, brick walls surrounded you but they were covered in hundreds of marvelous artwork over the centuries.
your eyes bore into the birth of venus, her dreamy gaze entrapping you while trying to ignore the burning stare from across the room.
“a beauty, is she not?” raising your voice to communicate with your guest.
gentle steps echoed off the walls, the faint clanging of metal followed. “a rare one indeed.” a shiver up your spine, you don’t believe he was talking about the art.
“how much do you know about art, sir harrington?” turning on your heel to face his direction.
he stood with his back straight, feet firmly planted on the wood flooring. he kept his right hand curled on the hilt of his sword with his left arm limp at his side. his cream tunic paired with a light blue vest fit him well, loose enough to be comfortable but tight enough where it hugged his muscles when fighting. the black trousers were also… well fitted. you had to fight your eyes to stay on his face.
he was too pretty to be a knight, at least in your opinion. sharp pointed nose, pretty pink smile, his gentle brown eyes that made your heart speed up. sometimes you catch yourself staring, noting all his freckles or how he runs a hand through his hair wishing it was yours.
a cough sounded off the walls causing you to startle slightly, blinking in rapid succession five times. sir harrington was closer now, hands held behind his back.
he peered at you with a conceited frown, “feeling well princess?”
licking your lips before taking a swallow, eyes to the ground. “apologies, sir harrington. i did not mean to ignore.” feeling bashful under his watch.
“‘tis alright, princess.” leaning down a bit to catch your eyes. “and please call me steven. sir harrington is too formal between us, don’t you think?” the last three words are almost a whisper, even with just the two of you in the large room.
curious eyes taking him in, his as well moving around before trailing down. unconsciously you took a deep breath causing your breast to inflate from the air and your attire. steven’s eyes stopped for a moment before quickly looking at your face then turning to the painting.
both facing the painting, side to side with a small gap keeping a respectable distance. steven’s hands hidden while yours fiddles over your stomach.
“please, do repeat yourself sir har- steven. i would like to hear your thoughts, steven.” liking the sound of his first name. “and you may call me, y/n. if you wish.” crossing that boundary most royals don’t.
looking at the knight just as he does to you, he flashes a charming smile. “i quite like calling you princess. y/n will be for… special occasions.”
the shivers returned. “and what might be a special occasion, sir harrington?”
he cocked a dark brown, “i’ll feel it.” before once again, glancing away first.
he was someone you were told to stay away from, not sir harrington literally, but someone with his aura. a devilish person with the charm to follow, but like a snake you followed the tune from the charmer.
“well then,” breaking away from his side profile, “how about you tell me your feelings on this painting.” head tilting to re-examine venus. “would love to hear your insight.” finding any excuse to hear him speak. voice rich and smooth like those of the finest silk draped over your bed.
he took a deep inhale through his nose, chest puffing from the action and it drew your eyes, lips parting with a short exhale. “the painting is exquisite.”
you couldn’t help the light laugh from your lips, “that is quite true, but what in this painting draws you in?” leaning your side closer towards his.
“well,” he took a side step into your lean, causing your shoulder to nudge his bicep, “her eyes. they hold something within them, almost pulling me into a trance. i could stare at those cherub cheeks for hours, feel weak in the knees when they puff up from her smiles. i bet it’s a wonderful smile, wish that was included.”
you hummed in agreement. her gentle face was painted with such thoughtfulness and care, you envisioned her lover painting her. taking all the time in the world to stare at his love, getting to memories every single part of her that he loves to worship in private and this is his way of showing her off to the world.
you smoothed your hands down the front of your dress, eyes going from her face to her body. “her body is a temple. i envy her.” hands down by your sides.
a sudden warmth radiated near your hand, you looked down to see steven had dropped his own arms. his knuckles barely brushing yours, it felt inappropriate without your gloves but it was just the two of you.
“why envy? you're just as beautiful as this goddess.”
a deep inhale, “she looks… comfortable in her curves and softness. and i stand before her in a tight cage beneath this fabric, ribs aching and- and breasts ready to pop free.”
your eyes widened and you covered your mouth with both hands as you turned to look at steven. he seemed indifferent, only a raise of his brows and what looks to a restrained smile or smirk.
“apologies, again. my tongue is quite loose today, my parents would have my head for such language from a princess before a gentleman.”
he shrugs, “i won’t tell. say whatever you may.” his boots side-step closer, leaning his head so his lips could ghost over your ear. “do you wish to be free from clothes or is it something… more for you?”
you clutched the fabric of your gown into a fist, “both. wishing i could feel free in my skin, not wanting to be dressed in all these jewels and pins stabbing into my skull for a delicate updo. and i wish i could be free from the title that’s been attached to me since birth. a title i don’t want.”
“and what do you want?”
a light gasp left your lips when you looked over your left shoulder to see steven standing behind you, his hands holding on your biceps. he leaned his chest into your back and his hands skim down your heavy limbs. your breathing got heavier as his hands slipped past your elbows and stopped at your wrist. your eyes were entranced at the veins under his skin and the length of his fingers.
“what is it that you want, y/n?” steven’s lips bump the shell of your ear. a gasp mixed with more filled the room, eyes fluttering at the sensation.
“i- i want… i want you. steven, i want you. you are all i want in this life.” pleading with the knight behind you, finally speaking those hidden thoughts.
“if i could, i would whisk both of us away, leave everything behind and just be with each other. no judging or hiding needed.” his lips pressed wet kisses upon the apple of your cheek to the point of your jaw. steven slipped his hands further so you were palm to palm as he interlocked your fingers together.
you turned your head, lips parting as you held eye contact with your fearless knight. his light brown eyes hypnotized you and pulled you into a fantasy that you never wanted to leave. they made you dream of waking up beside him in a small cottage hidden in the woods, not stressed with lessons or an entire kingdom sitting on your shoulders. you’d slow dance in your kitchen, read books or poems to each other, profess your undying love for each other over and over in the millions of ways you could think of.
you blink and you're back in the gallery, standing before venus and in the hold of knight steven. a loud banging resounded through the empty hall causing you both to flinch away. anxious hands smoothed out invisible wrinkles and steven swiped a hand over his hair, clearing his throat before calling out, “what is it?”
the door creaked open and another guard peeked their head in, a woman with short blonde hair. you quirked your head, trying to recall if you’ve ever seen her around before, you can only picture an image of her walking beside steven. you glanced over to him and he was smiling at the knight, “buckley. what’s the issue?”
“sorry for intruding, but the king and queen are requesting your return. both of you.” giving herself a slight rock on her feet.
“uh, thank you, buckley. round up the others, we’ll meet outside.” and she nodded to his commands, shutting the door behind her.
steven turned back to you, keeping a distance you hated, but knew was needed. you could see he hated the space as well but knew his duty came first, your safety came first. “don’t want to keep your parents waiting. hopefully we’ll visit again, and see more of the art housed here. just the two of us…”you dropped your gaze to your feet, hiding your smile, “i look forward to the day, steven.”
-
#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington#steve harrington stranger things#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington au#knight!steve harrington x princess!reader#stranger things x reader#stranger things#stranger things au#Spotify
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Monty isn’t jealous, envious or wants to take Freddy’s place nor does he hate him either.
Spoilers for Ruin btw!!
So the popular theory right now that everyone’s claiming to be canon is that Monty was jealous of Bonnie and Freddy and decommissioned Bonnie to be in the band and makes his way up in the band and take Freddy’s place as well. The most popular reason for this theory is because of the Monty Golf ARcade game that shows Monty as the lead while Freddy’s in the trash. At first glance, I can see why people fall for this and think Monty wants Freddy’s place in the band but there’s some evidence that suggests otherwise.
1. The faz watch message Monty mischief makes it clear that Monty has missed main stage performances more than once to stay in Monty Golf, The place where he was once just a one man band in his own attraction (info thanks to ruin). If people are claiming that he was the one who decommissioned Bonnie out of spite or malice or fame why would he bail on his position that he went to such “great lengths” to get? Like I’m genuinely curious how it fits.
2. People never talk about this. Just moments before in the game we heard Vanessa threatening to scrap Freddy if he was involved protecting Gregory and Monty would run the shows. Now I know she said that his casing would be slapped on a new endo and it would be a temporary thing but his endo, Freddy’s true essence and person (or robot) would be scrapped thrown in the trash. Sound familiar? A certain AR game depicting just that? Nope not a clue.. /s
3. So your not convinced still? Fine. One of the endings of security breach has Gregory and Freddy driving off in a van and just who did they put in Freddy’s position as the lead? Yup. Monty. And they created an entirely new animatronic as a 4th member, glamrock mr. hippo. The decisions of fazbear entertainment is… questionable. But this proves that game is not Monty’s true intentions or desires it’s more of the company’s desires if anything. He might just be pushed into situations that he has little control over.
So in Ruin, in the Monty golf ride there’s a scene of cardboard cutouts of Bonnie, chica, Roxanne and Freddy, the original four glamrocks while Monty is looking in admiration and starry eyes. However, Freddy’s is in the shadows so people assume that Monty definitely dislikes Freddy. I think people are reading to into this though as this could have another meaning too. Call this a bit on the nose here but hear me out.
Freddy is the only one who is not present in the pizzaplex or the entirety of the ruin story. Or at least his proper head isn’t and there’s a headless prototype attacking you. Point is every cutout that has lights on them is still in the pizzaplex activated or deactivated and that includes Bonnie.
It’s just astounding that people draw these conclusions about Monty based on sources that probably weren’t even made by him or might not reflect his personality and claim it as canon. The information that we get in ruin still makes most of Monty’s character vague and non-confirming. As much as I try to accept the theories that Monty really does envy Freddy and decommissioned Bonnie on purpose I just can’t. Cause a lot of the contrasting evidence sticks out like a sore thumb.
I’d like some feedback on this whether you agree or disagree I’d like to hear different pov and interpretations on this.
#fnaf#fnaf security breach#fnaf sb#fnaf ruin#montgomery gator#glamrock freddy#glamrock bonnie#five nights at freddy's#monty gator
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I'm sitting and looking at somebody's take about the scene of Willow Tail's death
"Clear Sky is fabulous here, and the deaths look karmic. Willow Tail dies blind bc she was so blinded by her wish of revenge she put innocent cats under threat and led to deaths of a medicine cat and an innocent kit. And Wind Runner, who prevented Moth Flight from saving Tiny Branch, lost a life to an injured leg just like he did. Beautiful."
Ig I'll just leave it here like a tribute
"the deaths look karmic" is the only correct thing in this passage. Yes, the writers ARE obsessed with punishing women, gruesomely zooming in on how much pain and suffering they're feeling when those horrible bitches finally get their comeuppance. Glad they can at least recognize torture porn when they see it.
Go one baby step further-- why do the writers keep choosing to frame the women as primarily responsible when Clear Sky is the same violent, egotistical tyrant he always was?
Willow Tail does die blinded-- by Clear Sky. The way he is constantly brutalizing every woman and foreigner in front of him. Just like how he was smacking Moth Flight before he ordered Red Claw to go up into the tree to beat the shit out of Micah and confiscate medicine, because he doesn't care when people die of treatable illness.
But, sure. Sure, it's Willow Tail who caused the death of Micah, when she sees Moth Flight's face sliced open by a known serial murderer and jumps to her defense, and then learns that Red Claw has been ordered to attack a doctor.
For those who haven't read Moth Flight's Vision, btw, Willow Tail is revealed to be the villain all along because she was planting rabbit bones on the border. This made Clear Sky mad because Wind Runner said "make your cats respect the borders YOU invented, bc MY cats didn't eat those rabbits" and she didn't just accept his answer of "nuh uh."
That's why it's totally the WOMEN'S fault that Clear Sky was throwing this tantrum, and not his own. Being offended is a totally valid reason to deny medical treatment and do assault and battery. Why would you ever hold a man in a position of power accountable for his own actions?
Wind Runner also didn't kill Tiny Branch through medical neglect. Clear Sky did. Can't believe I'm still saying this.
HE was the one who prevented Acorn Fur from getting help. He keeps insisting that he never needed Micah or any other foreigner to heal Tiny Branch's ailments. He didn't want Micah when it was a cough, and he didn't want Moth Flight when it was a fox attack.
-Said in the Sap Confiscation Scene
-Said as Tiny Branch is dying, confirming that yes, he DID stop her from getting the help right away.
Wind Runner PROPOSED an embargo at a meeting that SkyClan was absent for, AFTER Clear Sky had already insisted on denying medical treatment to Rocky and got Micah killed. Wind Runner's hypothetical embargo was broken less than a minute later when it's revealed SkyClan was late by several hours because Tiny Branch got attacked by a fox.
Here's how long they're held up by Wind Runner, though. All 214 words, less than a full page in dialogue, of it.
How long would you guess this took? Was everyone here speaking at 0.025 speed? Did someone hit the slow motion button? Were they escaping out of a time bubble?
Why's Shattered Ice never mentioned as killing Tiny Branch, btw? The one who actually did physically hold up Moth Flight (but not the other three Medicine cats, Dappled Pelt, Cloud Spots, and Pebble Heart), even if it was for less than 30 seconds? When he's not even from Wind Runner's Clan? CURIOUS INNIT?
I need to remind you that he was also responsible for preventing Acorn Fur from being fully trained. That was HIS choice. HE closed the border. HE stopped Moth Flight from completing Acorn Fur's training. HE is in the middle of a book-length hissy fit about being told what to do.
And, yet, Moth Flight is held up for less than 5 minutes after Clear Sky forced Acorn Fur to save his son alone until signs of infection set in, and this is all Wind Runner's fault.
So he later kidnaps Moth Flight, expecting Wind Runner to just trust that THIS time he takes a hostage he's not starving them like he did to Jackdaw's Cry, and not launch the two Clans into war. Redemption arc, btw.
And then he gets to be framed like a hero even though he is 100% responsible for every single one of his actions and escalated the situation at every turn. ZERO consequences for him, because him letting his own baby suffer and die was "punishment enough."
The bloodthirsty tyrant, child abuser, woman beater, and known liar was totally justified because It Made Him Sad When Wind Runner Didn't Trust His Word :( This was all actually an evil, scheming woman's fault for planting bunny bones, lol. So she totally deserves getting her eyes ripped out.
At MOST, the narrative considers Wind Runner and Clear Sky "Equally Bad", but only Wind Runner and Willow Tail get personally punished. With death and agony. Surely, SURELY this is not because of writer misogyny? In the Arc of 7 Fridgenings? Perish the thought.
Anyway, glad that I've curated my dash enough to not see that take out there in the wild. Who would even write something so ridiculous, Gray Wing?
#bone babble#warrior cats analysis#Clear Sky#Moth Flight's Vision#DOTC hate#Willow Tail#Anyway everyone it is now our job to be as annoying as possible and stan Willow Tail at all costs#Willow Tail Did Nothing Wrong legion rise up#cw misogyny#seriously though. fucking BUNNY BONES???#BUNNY#BONES
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