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chilling-seavey · 4 years

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Anything But Mine (d.s.) - Chapter Sixteen

A/N be gentle with my sweet Florence...she’s kinda all over the place right now... 🥴

Monday, December 2nd, 2019

Florence took the subway down to CTV studios late one evening to resign and thank them for the opportunity of working there. It was borderline unprofessional as it was such a stretch to be able to work there in the first place and it had only been a few weeks but Florence couldn’t keep shipping Clementine to various babysitters as well as the fact that working along side Grayson made her focus more on feelings than what needed to get done.

Now eleven months, Clementine was lively and a clever little girl. Despite her quick learning and developing, Clementine was still yet to walk. She could stand up on her own and cruise a little whole holding onto the coffee table but never went farther than a few shuffling steps. It worried Florence a bit, but Michael and Luke assured her it was normal, that babies all develop at different rates. The Clifford’s still loved caring for Clementine when Florence needed time to herself, this case in particular as Florence stood alone in front of the CTV building, swallowing nervously before making her way inside.

It was late evening and most employees would be gone but Florence was surprised to find the offices empty as she stepped out of the elevator. Of course, the single desk lamp that was switched on belonged to the last person she wanted to see.

Florence tried to head back out without being noticed but she was caught by a, “Hey.”

She turned back and forced a small smile, “Hi.”

Grayson got up from his desk and took a few steps towards her. The floor was dark, illuminated only by the moon and city lights outside the large pained windows and Grayson’s single desk lamp casting a warm glow over the area were they stood.

“What are you doing here?” Grayson asked.

“I’m resigning.” Florence said. “Is Christina here?”

“No she’s not. I’m the only one here right now. It’s late. I can take down your notice though.”

“Thanks.” Florence nodded stiffly.

Grayson frowned after a moment of silence, “Why are you resigning?”

“Working life just isn’t for me I suppose.” Florence chuckled nervously.

“You loved it here though.”

“Yeah, at first, but not recently.”

Grayson looked to the ground, his hands in his pockets. Florence did the same.

“Do you want to come sit?” Grayson whispered after a moment. “I just ordered a burrito. We could split it.”

“Yeah...okay.” Florence couldn’t help but smile a little as she followed Grayson back to his desk. She pulled up a second chair and they sat down. Grayson passed her half of the meal, offering her a gentle smile with it. She took a bite before resting it back on the napkin.

“Gray...” Florence mumbled, clearing her throat nervously, “I’m really sorry for hurting you.”

Grayson merely glanced at her as if urging her to continue.

“I guess I should have talked to you about things before assuming. My only relationship experience is kind of a shitty one and I know that’s not an excuse but...I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing and you didn’t deserve to be hurt like that.”

Florence looked over at him, her eyes begging to be forgiven. Grayson took a bite of his half of the burrito but finally nodded a little.

“Thank you for saying that.”

“Are you-“

“Have a drink if you want.” he slid over the bottle of pop to rest between them. Florence looked from the bottle to his face and he smiled warmly at her. She couldn’t help but smile back. It was the simple act that told her she was forgiven.

The two ate in silence for a little bit. It was surprisingly comfortable despite the silence and darkness looming around them. Once the food was finished and the bottle was emptied, Grayson tossed the garbage into the small trash bin under his desk. They filled the quiet space with discussion of Grayson and Ethan’s show they had been producing and Grayson shared stories of his favourite on-set ‘fails’ and mess-ups. They managed to laugh until their stomach’s hurt; something both of them really missed. Once calmer, silence fell, as they returned to their thoughts.

“Are you really quitting?” Grayson asked as he sat back comfortably in his chair.

“Yeah.” Florence sighed.

“Even if it’s not weird between us anymore?”

“Yeah. It’s was a good experience here but I need to be home with Clementine. It’s just not the right time.”

Grayson nodded, “I get that.”

“Thank you, though.” Florence set her hand on his leg. “It was really amazing of you to do this all for me.”

“Only what you deserved.” Grayson shrugged.

Florence smiled shyly, looking to her lap and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before folding her hands together on her lap.

“How is Clementine?” Grayson asked after a moment.

Florence broke into a genuine smile at the mention of her daughter, “She’s amazing. She loves to say ‘yes’ now. Seems to be her favourite word.”

“So you can get her to do chores without her talking back.” Grayson pointed out, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

“I don’t think I trust her enough to do the dishes yet.” Florence chuckled.

“And Daniel and the boys? They’re okay too?”

“Daniel doesn’t talk to me anymore.”

“What? Why?” Grayson frowned.

Florence shrugged, dropping her gaze to her lap.

“I’m sure he’ll come around. He told me himself how much he loves you. He’s probably going through his own thing.”

“Hopefully.” Florence sighed.

“And Emilio?”

Florence sighed at that question, “Do you care to know?”

“Yes. Need to make sure he’s treating you right.”

“He’s just fine.” Florence forced a gentle smile.

His hand on her leg made her startle and she looked over at him. His gentle touch sent shivers down her arms.

“Are you with him?” Grayson whispered.

“Emilio?” Florence clarified, her heart speeding up in her chest.

Grayson nodded.

“No. We’re not dating.”

“Does he know that?” Grayson teased.

“Yes, he knows.” Florence would have chuckled at his teasing but they way he was looking at her had her stomach in knots.

She hesitated a moment before standing up, swiftly pushing the chair back to the other desk. Grayson stayed sitting and he watched her silently.

“I should go.” Florence mumbled.

“Go?” Grayson stood up too now. “Already?”

“Yeah.” Florence shrugged. “Don’t want you to do something you might regret.”

“There is not a second that goes by where I regret being with you. You were one of the best things in my life.” Grayson frowned.

“Until I messed it up.” Florence said plainly.

“Mistakes happen, okay? I missed you so much. But you’re here now.” Grayson assured her, taking a step closer.

“And what does that mean?” Florence whispered, now close enough to feel his presence against her body.

He set his hands on her face before speaking, “Listen,” his tongue poked out between his lips, wetting them, before continuing, “I have missed you so damn much.”

“Me too.” Florence whispered, her breathing turning slow and shallow as he stood in front of her, mere centimetres between them. His hazel eyes looked down at her with this emotion that made her legs weak. There was still something about him that always got to her in the most beautiful way. She couldn’t help but wrap her arms around his shoulders and pull him in to kiss him. His hands on his waist sent absolute fire over her body and she clung onto him like somehow he would save her life.

Almost an hour later they were sat in the parking garage back at Florence’s condo, silence between them as they stared out the front window of Grayson’s blue Porsche. Florence tucked some of her messy hair behind her ear, letting out a soft sigh.

“You okay?” Grayson asked, looking over at her.

“Just fine.” Florence smiled, meeting his friendly gaze. He leaned over to press a single kiss to her lips. “Very fine.” Florence whispered.

Grayson smiled widely, his hand resting on her leg and he watched her like she was framed artwork. He was leaned back comfortably against his seat, his entire body turned towards her in a simple subconscious action that meant nothing less than that she had all of him to herself.

“Gray.” Florence breathed, her fingers tracing the outline of his hand lazily.

“Flora.” he responded through a gentle smile, turning over his hand palm up so she could slide her hand into his.

“What does this mean for us?” Florence asked quietly as if there were people around listening.

“What do you want it to mean?”

“I think you should answer first.”

“Alright,” Grayson cleared his throat, “I want any part of you or your life that you want me to be a part of.”

“But Emilio is still around.” Florence breathed, not looking up at him.

Silence lingered between them, both of their eyes on their intertwined hands.

“These past few months…” Grayson mumbled, “have sucked. Really fucking sucked. I have been holding back tears almost every minute of every single day. I don’t like crying around people…not even E…and it’s been taking such a toll on me. I kept it all in and it hurt so bad. I loved you, you know? So fucking much. I just never felt like I mattered. That compared to Emilio, I was disposable.”

“Gray, you do matter. So much. And you’re not disposable. My heart ached for you when you left that night. I messed everything up and I know that. I missed you, I still do, and I want you in my life.”

“How?”

Florence looked up at him and he was already looking at her. She sighed and looked back down at their hands, “I don’t know.”

“Can we even just be friends?” Grayson whispered, “It’ll be hard to simply be friends after what just happened in the studio.”

Grayson cracked a small smile. Florence’s cheeks went pink and she gave his hand a little squeeze.

“That wouldn’t be able to happen again.” he spoke.

“I agree.” Florence nodded.

Grayson’s free hand went to her cheek and he ever so softly pressed his lips to hers. Their kiss was nothing but chasté, closed mouthed and innocent, and when they seperated, both sighed quietly. She let her hand rest against his face, admiring him in their close proximity, her thumb gently caressing his cheek.

“Not again.” Grayson breathed.

Florence nodded once in agreement before slowly moving to open the car door. She pressed one more kiss to his lips before sliding out of the sports car with a whispered ‘goodnight’ and made her way to her apartment.

#catch me not tagging grayson dolan haha help me #daniel seavey #wdw #why dont we #why dont we fanfic #daniel seavey fanfic #jonah marais #jack avery #zach herron #corbyn besson #writing #anything but mine #wdw imagines #wdw fanfic

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primsgirl89 · 4 years

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More Than Blood 1: A New Life

This is a Harry Potter and Danny Phantom Crossover. A shout out to @alwaysnumberonetruth for helping out with some minor details.

Snow fell around his body; his body slowly bleeding out. Green mixed with red; or was it red mixing with green? He doesn't know, all he knew was that the rest of his half-life was slowly draining away from his body. Beside him, the boy saw his team- made up of his best friends and sister were on his left. He knew they were freaking out on what to do, but there was nothing that they could do; it was his time to leave this world. He was okay with that; he felt his time here was no longer needed, now there was a group of skilled and knowledgeable ghosthunters. If he was able to turn his head to the right without pain consuming his mind; he would be able to see his clone made cousin.

She was his favorite person by far in this world. He loved all of his friends and family, but something about Danielle made him feel whole and complete. He wondered if she felt the same about him.

His cousin looked exactly like him; despite her being a girl. She had his messy raven black hair that never seemed to want to be tamed, she often had her hair in a high ponytail- with her bangs hanging in her face. Her bangs often hid one of her icy blue eyes, always the left eye. Even her ghost form matched his own, only their outfits were different. In their ghost form, their hair would change from pitch black to snow white as their eyes went from an icy blue to being a radioactive green.

Danny knew he wasn't going to make it; not with the fatal wound that he had gained from his parents. They found his ghost half flying by the high school and took a shot with a ray that had blood blossoms mixed in with their usual ecto-rays. He wasn't the only one though, Danielle- his cousin- had also been hit by the very same blast as it went through his body. Now, here he laid in the cold snow mixed with his and Danielle's blood. Had there not been blood blossoms they probably would have been able to live, but it wasn't the case here. They had just come back from fighting with Pariah Dark- sealing him away in a new coffin that Clockwork had made for Pariah specifically- and throwing him into the edge of time.

"Danny," a blur shouted at him, "Danielle. Don't you dare die on us now!"

What he wouldn't give to listen to that order, but he had a feeling that it wouldn't be fulfilled. His body was beginning to feel much lighter than normal; almost as if he was about ready to fly. That familiar sensation he gets when he is just about to release himself from the ground and gravity.

"Kids," he heard a firm voice call out to them, "get away from those ghost scum."

"No," another voice shouted, "don't you dare close your eyes!"

Were they not listening to the adults? The adults were calling out to them with anger and hatred as they tried to get the group of teenagers to leave Danny and Danielle.

"They are loosing too much blood!"

"Blood?"

"Ghosts don't have blood."

"What do we do?"

"Keep them from closing their eyes."

Was he closing his eyes? He couldn't tell. Maybe they were talking about Danielle? Suddenly, a weight lifted from where the pain was- flowing through the rest of his body. He felt nothing, yet he felt every pain that he had ever felt in his life. Screams ripped from his lips; beside him, he knew that his cousin was going through the same as he was if her screams were anything to go by. As soon as the feeling began did it leave.

A flash of swirling green appeared around him. His body felt as if it was becoming smaller and weaker- beside him he saw that Danielle was de-aging into a baby. Was that what was happening to him?

Everything is as it should.

When Danny looked around himself, he saw that he and Danielle were in a black room. Or that was what he thought. The space they were in was swelteringly hot, it was close to being unbearable, but he couldn't do much other than letting out a few pathetic whimpering cries, soon being echoed by Danielle. A light then poured inside of whatever it was that they were in; causing him to cry out in pain at the harsh light that met his eyes. After his eyes adjusted to the light the faces he saw looked down at them surprised to see the two of them. The man had untidy black hair, behind those round glasses were hazel eyes and a bit of a five o'clock shadow. The woman had light skin, thick, dark auburn hair that fell to her shoulders; and almond-shaped, bright green eyes.

"James?" The woman was trying to see what was inside what the man was looking into. She seemed to be worried.

"Babies," was what the dark-haired man whispered to the woman.

"Well," the woman rushed to the box that the babies were inside of, "bring the dears in. We don't want them to get a heatstroke out here."

James did as his wife told him wondering why there was a box with two small babies inside them on such a bright and hot day. Maybe the letter that was bundled around the smaller one would give him and Lily a clue as to what had happened. Why these children were on his doorstep; inside a box no less. James grabbed the envelope that was on the light purple blanket that was underneath the babies.

To whoever is reading this,

Hello, I am Elizabeth Fenton, but I am more commonly known as Lizzy- the muggle mother of the babies. If you are receiving this letter then it would mean I am dead. I bet you're wondering how I know this. Truth is, it would either have to do with my husband or the townspeople- for giving birth to 'devils'.

I am so sorry to drop my babies off on you as I had, but I cannot care for these children.

Now that you know the truth, I will explain why I dropped Danielle and Daniel with you. Daniel James Fenton is the oldest of the twins, as his sister Danielle Lily Fenton. By the way, their birthday is on July fifth. When they turn eleven in nine years they should be getting a letter from Hogwarts- or so I was told. They are magical, but there is a small problem I seem to have with them, they seem to be able to go through walls; fly, and disappear.

Honestly, they kind of remind me of the ghosts' here where I live. Now that I think about it, maybe that's why they call my kids devils'- their powers reminding them of the ghosts' in the town. I hope it is normal for magical babies to have those powers. I wouldn't know and my friend said they couldn't say anything to me because I wasn't an immediate family member.

Anyway, why I gave them to you. You see, their father would kill them because he knows nothing of the magic world- I don't either but that is beside the point. I have a feeling that if I kept my children they would end up dead- I would have handed him to the authorities, but he is a police officer in my town. It wouldn't work out in my favor. Plus, he has the entire village on his side, so I rather not take my chances. My friend- who had helped me learn how to raise the babies, she knows what they are and promised me to take them to a safe place- she knows who you are and where you live, I told her that she should take them to you. If I was still alive I would be with them as soon as I could- I would have divorced my husband and left this retched town. If I was dead, I told her to place the letter in the bag and leave.

Whether or not she stayed was up to her.

I'm sorry for the short notice as well as the trouble I have given to you. Please make sure they know I love them and I will never forget them.

With hope,

Lizzy.

James had so many questions that he wished he could get answered, but sadly he wouldn't be able to attain those answers. Despite not having much information, James knew he wouldn't turn these kids away from him.

Lily and James spent the next two months becoming more used to being parents to three children- who were all magical. They got used to Daniel and Danielle's extra powers- thought they did send letters to their old Headmaster to keep him informed of the happenings of their niece and nephew, Dumbledore was very much intrigued and had asked to meet them.

When he met Danny and Danielle- they were just learning how to walk. Danielle had often been a faster learner than her brother, but Danny made up for it by learning how to speak first. On this day, Danny had frozen Dumbledore's wand on accident, and when the adults tried to figure out how to melt the ice, but they soon learned the ice wasn't going to be going anywhere. It wasn't until Danielle had sat on the older wizards lap and began to play with the wand that the ice melted.

Danielle had sneezed and let a small fire catch on the Edler wand- the fire stayed on the ice. Dumbledore almost put the fire out until he noticed the ice was beginning to melt.

"Interesting," Dumbledore breathed in amazement. His blue eyes sparkled as he picked up the twins with a levitation spell. "They are a rare being, indeed."

"Do you know what they are," Lily asked with a small frown. "As you've read in our letters, they have more powers other than accidental magic."

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, Missis Potter, but I am just as clueless as you are."Lily smiled sadly, but they went back to watching as the children played for a while longer.

Within the next month, Lily and James had died by the hands of a very evil wizard; Lord Voldemort didn't care who he had to eliminate to get what he wanted. What Voldemort wanted more than anything was to live forever and to have all humans and mudblood's to die. They didn't belong in his world. Luckily, when he tried to kill all three toddlers- after he had killed that filthy mudblood, of course- his death curse had rebounded off of each of the children and ended him.

A scar was placed on each of the toddlers. They all had a lightning bolt on their foreheads. Harry's was normal compared to the glowing green scars on Danny and Danielle, but he was the only one who was able to see the difference in color. It was then Harry spent the next nine years with the Dursley's in a small town known as Little Whinging. Danny and Danielle had been sent to live with the Weasley's in the burrow.

While Harry was living there, he was placed in the closet under the staircase.

"You make a mess, you clean it," Petunia hissed when he reached five-years-old. She stopped paying for a babysitter to watch when Harry had turned five.

Danny and Danielle learned all they could about the magic world, Danny would even send Harry letter's to inform him of what he learned as well. Molly Weasley- their adopted mother- had a cloaking spell on the paper so only Harry could see the real letter as well as sending a pre-cloaked paper for him to use. He enjoyed helping Harry learn about the wizarding world, it felt as if he was helping Harry in more ways then one.

When they all turned eleven they received a letter to go to Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. Molly- who had two separate keys for a volt for the two and a letter- walked off to bring her kids as well as Danny and Danielle to Diagon Alley.

Danny and Danielle,

I know you don't know who I am, but my name is Charles Work. I am your Uncle. I have kept a close watch on you and I am happy to see you have been put with the Weasley's. This volt has more money than necessary, so don't worry about having to take too much.

From what I have seen, you will ignore my statement so if you feel it is necessary then you may replace what you take if you get a job.

Good luck at Hogwart.

~CW~

"We'll pay for everything, Missus Weasley," Danielle said as she saw just how much money was in their volt. "I am sure our uncle wouldn't mind." Molly had been happy to hear these words, but she refused it. "How about we pay for the wands at least?"

So they did, Ron was happy to have received a new wand from Ollivander's instead of having to use his older brother's. It was fourteen inches, willow, containing one unicorn tail-hair. When Olivander had Danny and Danielle try for theirs, it was such a challenge to find the right wands for them that it took an hour at most to find the right wands- but they did in the very end. Danny had gotten Pheonix feather, yew wood, and was twelve and a half inches- it was very flexible. Danielle's was made of thestral hair, vine wood, it was thirteen inches in length- very springy.

When they had been sorted, Danielle had been sorted into Ravenclaw as Danny had been sorted into Slytherin. Danny hadn't been amused by how everyone in the other houses would treat him. Though, despite not being in the same house Danny got along with Harry and his friends and kept his close bond with Danielle.

The first three years at Hogwarts Danny and Danielle hadn't interacted much with the other students outside of Ron, Harry, and Hermione. Though, that hadn't meant that they didn't help Harry with his crazy adventures having to deal with Voldemort. First, with the sorcerers stone, then with the diary that was controlling Ginny. Not to mention that the spirits that reside in Hogwarts seem to know Danny and Danielle- calling them both the Bane of Pariah. By the time their third year came around a man, by the name of Sirius Black, had escaped from Azkaban. Harry thought that the man had come to finish him off, but really the man was framed for a crime he hadn't committed. That same year was the year of the Tri-Wizard Tortiment where Hogwarts was the host for that year. Voldemort had also been resurrected after he had killed one of Hogwarts students in front of Harry.

Now Danny wonders what else there was that Hogwarts had for him and Danielle.

#Danny Phantom #dani phantom #twins #harry potter #luna lovegood #cross over #also on fanfiction.net #also on wattpad #danny phantom and harry potter cross over #wizards #witches

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earmuffstar · 4 years

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i would prefer not to

I wrote this for @quixoticpaperclip for the tua secret santa ( @secret-santa-klaus )!

Link to ao3 is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21985285 For clarity, just know that the scenes in the italics are the “past” and the normal text is the “present.”

Click, click, click.

Hazel sits at the desk facing the wall in the corner of the room, a stack of papers by his side, his fingers coughing out a cacophony on the keyboard.

Sixty two papers transcribed; nine hundred and thirty eight more to go.

The clock clicks twelve, signaling lunch break and the instant rush of chatter, but Hazel continues typing. Today marks the 1,603rd day he neglects his break, which he knows only because it is also the 1,603rd day of his employment at this office. He — then, like now — has no need to talk to people who don’t know him and who will never matter in any significant way.

It’s simple math: some play their cards right, get lucky, or were born into fortune — they are the ones who become billionaires, find partners, and live happy lives with their happy families. The vast majority are left to repair their private jets and chauffer them from gala to gala, or to work nine hour days at minimum wage, six days a week, at data collection and transcription companies, with no one to talk to and no lunch break during which to talk.

Sixty three papers transcribed; nine hundred and thirty seven more to go.

Sixty four papers transcribed; nine hundred and thirty six more to go…

The gun rests heavy in his hand, his fingers having traced every inch so well and so frequently that he could reconstruct it perfectly from memory. Slide up to feel the groove on the left side; the notch on the right; the barrel. Safety. Trigger.

The sun is warm and the sky is clear. Hazel watches people hurry by on the streets from atop the roof of the skyscraper. Fascinating how these people remain completely ignorant of the fact that an assassin right above them holds a weapon that could end any one of their lives in an instant.

Hazel assumes his statue-like sniper position. He can’t afford to slack off. His first job must be perfect.

He has been tracking Target 314 — a man named “Daniel Peterson” — for several days, and has already mapped out his daily schedule, the route he travels on, and the buildings he goes to. Peterson works as a florist at “Growing Up,” on 442nd street, Monday-Thursday from 7-5, before traveling to his apartment two streets over, usually on foot, and cooking dinner before his husband and two kids come home for the day.

From this roof, Hazel has a perfect view into Peterson’s apartment (third window down, seventh to the left). He knows, from the cursory examination he made when he snuck in while the family was gone, that his bullets will pierce the glass on their windows.

The light in that window flickers on. A silhouette moves inside—

and

pulls

the

trigger

and

the

window

breaks

and

the

target

falls

down

and

shoots

and

shoots

and

the

person

stops

moving—

and Hazel freezes. Dimly, he suspects the rifle only stays in his hand because of his statue impersonation from earlier. That’s good — moving to pick it up would be an impossible challenge. Moving at all seems just as likely as suddenly gaining an extra pair of limbs.

He needs to pull himself together. What did he expect? This is his job, this is what he’s been trained for, this is what he needs to do in order to protect the timeline, which is something Daniel Peterson’s continued existence would have threatened.

Daniel Peterson. Daniel Peterson. Daniel Peterson.

((the gunshots still ring in his ears.))

Mechanically, Hazel begins to disassemble his rifle, the one that just killed a man cooking dinner, waiting for his family to come home.

Hazel climbs the steps to his apartment two at a time, since the elevator is still broken — they keep saying they’ll fix it but it’s been two years and the “out of order” sign still hangs on its door. Even after all this time, he’s still out of breath by the time he reaches his floor, which situated on the fourteenth floor of the building.

His apartment is… fine. “Fine” is an apt descriptor of the absolute lack of homeliness his apartment exudes. Three “rooms:” a bathroom, bedroom, and kitchen, all littered with some remnant of unproductivity. Cardboard moving boxes still partially unpacked, their items scattered out when needed; the half-painted wall in the kitchen (a terrible decision, he needs to paint it back sometime); the clothes on the bedroom floor he still has to wash; the counters unscrubbed and covered in grime and dust.

So many things to do, yet so little will to do anything. Not that it really matters. No one will be visiting anytime soon.

Hazel sets down his work folder and opens his fridge. The only thing inside is some milk and leftover Chinese food from two nights ago, which he takes out to eat cold — there’s really no point to heating it up, since it will all be going to the same place in the end. Straight in front of him, if he searched, he would still find the scuff marks that have been there since he moved in. He would see the two dents in the left corner of the room, if he looked. And since he already knows what he would see, he doesn’t bother looking.

So many days wasted here in this apartment. So many hours wasted going to work and copying papers and doing nothing of substance. And so much more time that will be wasted thinking about all that he has never done, and that he will never do.

What do normal people do at his age? Call up friends or family? He hasn’t spoken to either in many, many years, and will likely never be able to build either relationship for himself. He hasn’t been someone who could be a friend for so long, much less a partner. Besides, the chances of finding a romantic partner this late in life, once most everyone has already settled down, are infinitesimal.

Do normal people have pets? Hobbies? Goals? His work schedule doesn’t account for the well-being of another living creature he has no idea how to take care of. What “hobby” could he possibly attempt? What goal? Save up money to go to Disney World? He would have no one to enjoy the experience with.

He has everything — a job, an apartment, food — and yet he still feels his life slipping through his fingers every single day he lives it.

Hazel sighs. The food disappeared long ago, leaving him with its empty container that he tosses in the trash, which is overflowing since he hasn’t remembered to take it out recently. The clock he had dug out of its box and plopped on the table once he moved in reads 8:13 pm. It must be dark already.

Sleep would be easy to fold himself into and slip away inside, but something causes him to hesitate. The decision hangs in a delicate balance between the relief of turning off his brain and the reminder that he accomplished nothing today and that when he regains consciousness it will be to another day full of the same monotonous drudgery.

He sits for a while, not entirely sure how long. The kitchen, like his office, has no windows.

“Hazel. Welcome back,” the Handler smiles, all teeth and plastic. Hazel nods. He’s covered in blood.

“Your past few missions have been very successful.” The Handler tracks Hazel’s movements with her eyes as he begins to unload his supplies from his latest job: assassinating the CEO of some car company in Japan. The back of his neck starts to prickle. “So, due to your success, you have been assigned a partner for your work.”

Hazel pauses. “I work better alone.”

The Handler laughs, “I don’t think I made myself clear. You will work with a partner for all your future operations. Your skills will benefit one another, and you will become twice as efficient together than alone.”

All Hazel can do is nod. The Handler grins in response, letting out a sarcastic little clap as she moves towards the door, knocking on it only once before it opens. A woman enters in.

The Handler starts, “This is—”

“Cha-Cha,” the woman who just entered finishes. She stands with a sort of bold confidence, extending one hand for him to take. He takes it.

“Excellent! With you two working together, our efficiency will increase by 156 percent…!”

The Handler smiles, placing her arms around their shoulders, and neither Hazel nor Cha-Cha smile back.

Hazel is late to work.

Today should have been completely normal. His alarm went off right as usual, he left the same time as usual, and then everything went to hell. The subway was delayed by half an hour and the traffic was unusually bad, so he couldn’t even hail a taxi. Walking would have added almost an hour to his time, so he had no choice but to sit and wait for the subway to come. Now, right down the road, the crosswalk sign counts down, switching to the red “stop” symbol right before he can try to sprint across.

“Dammit!” he mutters, smashing the crosswalk button on the traffic light pole. He slams it again a couple more times for extra measure. After a short eternity, the light finally turns green, a gaggle of tourists bumps into him, and his hand must be too slick with sweat from the stress because he drops the folder with his stack of papers in it for work. Hilariously, the pages decide to mock him by fluttering all over the crosswalk.

And he thought his day couldn’t get any worse. If murder wasn’t illegal, at least a few people on this street would be stripped of their right to breathe.

Hazel tries to catch as many pages as he can, but there are too many people and too many papers and too little time and the crosswalk sign is counting down again…

“Here.” Hazel turns to see an arm extended, holding the rest of his papers. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine. Thank you,” Hazel intones, taking the papers before turning and striding away towards his office building.

“Are you sure, friend?” the person rushes to catch up, grabbing Hazel’s arm. “You look frazzled… I’m just heading to breakfast right now, you can come with me! I’d pay—”

Hazel turns back around, shouting, “No! I’m in a hurry.” Some part of him protests at his words, but he’s too tired to care. That person chose to help him. That doesn’t mean he has to be nice back. Besides, they’re acting annoying and getting on his nerves “I don’t have time to come and play nice with you. Goodbye.”

“Oh… okay, but—”

Hazel rushes off towards his office building, turning his mind towards only the papers he has to copy. He only remembers the person who helped him once his manager takes him aside during the lunch break to scold him for being late, and then puts them out of his mind once and for all. They don’t matter. He will never see that person again.

Hazel and Cha-Cha land in the alley behind the building. His vision swims for a moment, head tight with nausea, before the familiarity of this old routine settles in. He breathes, in and out, and his vision starts to clear.

“Our motel is on 49th street,” Cha-Cha mentions, already reading the file for this job. She always recovered from the “time travel hangover” better than him.

Hazel nods, still trying to regain his bearings. “Great. Let’s… start walking then. Not much time before night.”

“We landed on 49th street,” she says, meaning “you idiot.”

He didn’t know that. “I knew that.” He retorts. “We should still start walking.”

The corners of Cha-Cha’s mouth start to curve up at his blatant lie, and he is pleased despite himself. No matter how many people they’ve killed, sometimes it’s easy to forget they’re both still human. Despite his hesitance to work together at first, he finds that her ruthlessness complements his indecisiveness, and he remembers the tiny details she does not that makes or breaks a case. Each mission together turns out better than the last, and honestly, he is grateful for some sort of a companion.

“Who’s the Target?” He asks once safely inside the motel.

“Perry Andersen. We even got a picture of them this time. And the reason why they need to be eliminated.”

Hazel snorts. “Management feeling generous today?”

Cha-Cha lets out a tiny half-chuckle, which Hazel likes to think is because she knows he’s right. Normally, the higher-ups would give only the name, and leave them to scrounge for all other information they have once they arrive in the timeline.

Hazel glances at the photo. Some lightbulb flickers on in the back of his mind at the sight of the picture — an old connection he can’t quite yet make. He brushes it aside.

“So, what’d they do, then?”

“Apparently, Andersen attends one of the Robinsons’ dinners and inspires teleporters a decade early. And that’s not all — they even gave us the time. This dinner is tomorrow night.”

“Damn. They’re really not cutting us any slack. Would it have been so hard to send us any further back?”

“I’m sure they have their reasons,” Cha-Cha says, annoyed but not annoyed at his griping. Just like his annoyed-but-not-annoyed annoyance at management — it won’t be hard for them to find one person in just a couple of hours, especially with all this extra information being handed out like candy.

“We should head out, then.” Hazel doesn’t move.

“Yes. I’ll go to the library, you go look for clues in the city.”

“You went to the library last time. How about…” Ah. Hazel reaches down to find a penny stuck between the wall and the grate. “Heads or tails?”

Cha-Cha rolls her eyes, but obliges. “Tails.”

Hazel flips the coin. Tails.

“Fine.” Hazel picks up the briefcase — ridiculously heavy, they really should put more energy into making these things lighter, seeing as they have all the time in the world — and stands up to move towards the door.

“Meet back here by eight,” Cha-Cha calls.

Hazel doesn’t reply. He shuts the door and heads out across the sidewalk, towards the police station—

—and immediately trips over something long and tough, his briefcase flying across the ground.

“Are you alright, friend?”

Hazel freezes. He’s heard that voice before. The lightbulb in the back of his head burns brighter, and Hazel shoves it aside. It can’t be.

“Fine.” Hazel stands and doesn’t turn to look. He doesn’t want to — can’t — see their face. Of course, the person just walks around to face him, and Hazel’s breath catches in his throat.

“Hmm… I think I’ve seen you before. Oh! You’re that man with the papers! From the crosswalk! Forgive me, I have a bit of a photographic memory,” says the person with the same face of the person in Cha-Cha’s photograph and the same annoying voice from his memory.

Of course it is. And of course they recognize him, too.

“Well, I’m glad I ran into you again! I never got a chance to introduce myself. My name’s Perry. Perry Andersen.”

With this one meeting, his job just became much, much harder. Did the Handler know she sent Hazel to kill one of the only people who was ever nice to him in this past decade of his life?

“Hey, do you live around here? I’m having a party at my house tonight. What do you say to stopping by?” Andersen offers. Hazel just breathes, trying to force his mind to think.

This is the perfect way in: go to the party, find Andersen alone — it shouldn’t be hard to take advantage of their kindness. He should say yes, tell Cha-Cha he found the target, and tell her the address Andersen will give him so they can plan. Kill this person who will disrupt the timeline by attending one little dinner.

Instead, he reaches out for the phone in their hand and smashes it against the sidewalk. Stomps on it again until it’s all broken glass and machinery.

“What— Why did you do that?”

“I’m sorry,” Hazel says, and he does mean it, but this way Andersen will never receive the invitation to the Robinsons’ dinner. Andersen’s eyes follow him as he stands, probably still in shock from Hazel’s actions. Hazel’s pretty shocked himself. Without anything else to do, he starts walking away towards the motel.

He really just did that. He really just abandoned his job and the timeline for some annoying guy that invited him to his party. If anyone from the Commission finds out, he will be in real deep shit.

What’s he going to tell Cha-Cha?

“I ran into our target,” Hazel tells Cha-Cha once he gets back to the motel.

“You just ran into them? Just like that?” She sounds skeptical, even though this is one of the only things he will tell her in the next few minutes that’s actually true. He can’t tell her the whole truth — she’d rat him out to management for sure, no matter how much bonding they’ve been doing on their various murder missions.

“Yeah. Took them into an alleyway and shot ‘em. Shot someone else in the alley who protested too — it’ll look like they fought each other.”

Cha-Cha blinks. Hazel thinks she’s going to question his story again, but she just says, “Management will have to give us a raise — this must be our fastest job yet.” She pauses a moment, and Hazel feels his anxiousness start up again before she breathes, “That’s really all?”

Hazel internally sighs in relief, feeling the anxiety in his stomach subside. “That’s all.”

There’s someone in the office, which is only unusual because of the inherent strangeness of this person, the source of which he can’t quite place.

No one ever comes into the company except for its employees, and this person is not an employee. They look rich, but not the management kind of rich — their richness manifests as less stuffy and more phantasmally unreal. Their suit appears both old-fashioned and futuristic at the same time, and they carry a leather briefcase. No one here carries briefcases; this is honest-to-god the first one he’s seen in real life. The person appears to be reading something from a newspaper, but Hazel sees their eyes peek out over the paper, surveying their surroundings. Why?

They make eye contact with him, and Hazel looks away, eyes back to his screen without processing the words. When he looks back, the person is gone, and Hazel is left blinking at thin air.

“Birdwatching is my favorite hobby. The doves are just delightful this time of year.”

Agnes certainly looks delighted. Hazel could spend an eternity in the simple pattern during which she spots a new bird, writes it down in her notebook, and then sketches out each line of its form with careful strokes. Somehow, no matter how terrible the world is — how many gunmen shoot out her restaurant — she consistently finds more and more moments of quiet beauty in her life than Hazel has ever known.

An odd feeling builds inside him as he watches her. He ignores it in favor of listening to her talk — this time, about her plans for the future.

“I think maybe I’d like to retire soon, you know? Disappear for some time. Just go wherever the wind takes me.”

Oh. Guilt. That’s what this feeling is.

Agnes has spent her whole life working in a donut shop, yet she saved up penny by penny to retire in order to watch birds in her spare time. Hazel has spent his whole life hating everyone and everything with no greater plan whatsoever. He stood atop buildings and pointed a rifle at ordinary people — people like her — and chose who should be allowed to head back home that day and who shouldn’t. How could he possibly think anything between them could ever work out?

Cha-Cha is even more ruthless now than when they first met. If she found out his uncertainty with the Commission she would try to hunt him down, because that’s what happens to people who flee the Commission. Cha-Cha’s their best — she would absolutely be able to find and kill him and Agnes, too, if she knows about her. Which means by even interacting with Agnes, he’s putting her in danger.

“I have to go.” says Hazel, who suddenly feels very, very sick.

“Hazel—?”

“I’m sorry.” Hazel thrusts a ten dollar bill in her hand. “This is for lunch. Have— have a nice day.”

If she calls after him, he doesn’t know. He’s already driving away.

There’s a woman in the alleyway. Which is only unusual because he was looking when she appeared out of thin air.

“Hello, Hazel.” The woman smiles. “I’d like to offer you a job.”

Hazel blinks. The woman has no guards, no weapons in sight. Her confidence and ease in this situation only furthers his unsettlement, which begs him to retreat home to safety. But he spies the briefcase in her hand — the same briefcase that the person in the office carried — and she exudes the same uncanny out-of-time displacement as the first. They must be connected somehow.

“Who are you?” Hazel asks, taking a step back.

“Well, I’m the Handler. I am the head of the Commission: an organization intended to keep everything in this timeline working the way it’s supposed to.” She must notice his speechlessness, because she continues, “We make “corrections,” as we like to call them, by…” almost comically, she draws a line across her neck with her finger, “to certain people that prove to be, well, problematic to the timeline.”

“And I suppose you tell all these ‘corrections’ that you’re there to offer them a job?”

The Handler laughs. “Of course not, dearie. I’ve seen you. You would be a great asset to the Commission.”

Hazel eyes the woman— the Handler, if she is to be believed. He could probably take her if he needed to. Her grin only widens, as if she can tell exactly what he is thinking.

“Well then… why me?” Hazel questions, trying to stall for time. What kind of storybook bullshit is he supposed to be believing? He needs to think.

The woman smirks, “Only a truly desperate person would notice one of our agents.”

Sounds like a cop-out. “And why should I believe anything you say? Who’s to say this isn’t all one giant trick?”

“You’re stalling,” the Handler sings, and her certainty in the midst of his confusion only infuriates him more.

“ANSWER ME!” his hand slams down on the wall next to her, his breathing suddenly harsh. She simply pats his shoulder in mock-sympathy.

“Dear, if I wanted you dead,” she says, pulling something out of her bag. Hazel tenses, but she only pulls out a tube of lipstick and begins applying it, “you’d be dead already.” The Handler smiles once more, her hand — intentionally? unintentionally? — drifting to where a gun holster would be. If he didn’t believe her ability to kill him before, he most definitely believes her now. This lady could one-hundred-percent end him, and no one would know or care.

What can he lose? She already revealed her secret to him, so she has to know that if she lets him go there’s a chance he could blab to someone. If even one person believes him, her entire operation could collapse. His options are literally to kill or be killed.

“Okay,” Hazel steps back, lowering his hand from the wall.

The Handler smiles as if she knew what his answer would be all along. “Wonderful! Grab this,” she instructs, holding out the briefcase. All his anger dissipates, replaced with some anxious feeling as he realizes the full extent of his decision. Her breath is hot in his ear, and she grins. “You won’t regret it for one moment.”

Hazel pulls into the Griddy’s parking lot. Agnes hasn’t had as much business as usual since the shootout — that’s another thing to feel guilty for.

Agnes is at the counter, just like the first time he came in. He asked her once why she’s the only one ever at the counter and she responded that they do have other employees, but only part-time and she usually works at the counter anyway, because she likes greeting the customers.

He can pinpoint the exact moment when she finishes taking someone’s order, looks up, and spots him still standing in the doorway.

Hazel breathes slowly, in and out, in the same way he does after using the briefcases. Somehow, this nervous anticipation causes just as much nausea as literally breaking the laws of physics.

Agnes finishes ringing up the last customer in line and walks over to Hazel. She must sense his change in mood, because she tacitly steps outside to the small forest area behind the store — the same area Hazel ran off from yesterday. Hazel follows right behind.

“I was worried, after you ran off like that,” she starts, and her worry is another thing to feel guilty for. Still, she doesn’t try to push. He’s grateful for that.

Someday, if this all works out, he’ll tell her the whole story. For now, he can only give as a tiny bit, just enough for her to understand.

“I’ve done some… really bad things. Whatever you can imagine, it’s worse. It all caught up to me in that moment and now that I’ve really had time to think about everything… I guess what I’m saying is, you remember you said you might retire soon?” “Well, of course.”

“Do you have room for two?”

Agnes smiles. “Hazel, all I wanted in my life was to help other people. Seeing you come here, the way you’ve brightened up these past few days just from what I’ve seen when you come in and order a donut… It made my day. Of course I have room for two.”

Hazel exhales, and his life seems to stretch forth in front of him. So many endless possibilities — all filled with Agnes and everything they could ever do together. All the world and all of time seems so incredibly vast — they could go anywhere. Without thinking, he sweeps Agnes up into a hug.

“Oh, Hazel…” Agnes voices, smile and worry in her voice, “Are you sure about this?”

This plan could go wrong in about a trillion different ways: the Apocalypse is still in three days and Cha-Cha could find them and kill them with the rest of the Commission before then, or Hazel and Agnes could end up unable to stand each other after spending more time together and the whole plan could fall apart. But for the first time in his life — so long, and now so painfully short — he has reason to try.

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

#tua secret santa #tua secret santa 2019 #tua #minific #if anyone reads this and it gets even one like or reblog i will be instantly validated for the rest of my life

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strawberrywindow · 10 months

Text

Done with notes for Justine and Machine for Pigs - a few thoughts:

1. The ending chase in Justine with Malo still terrifies me. Damn you water sections 🥲

2. I wish we had more info on the star shaped soapstone and its significance. Justine's father having one and one being mentioned in two of the Remember short stories means something, but there's almost nothing actually said about what they do lol.

3. I don't know HOW I never noticed until this playthrough but Oswald killed Edwin and Enoch IN Mexico and only brought their skulls back to London which is...odd, since the journal entries we find WRITTEN by Edwin and Enoch do not fit the timeline now as they should already have been long dead but I don't think this is an oversight because if it is it's a MASSIVE one lmao.

4. On if Oswald's great-uncle is Daniel or Alexander, it really seems like the game wants to push that it's Alexander but I can't for the life of me make sense of how. Alexander can't be an uncle of any kind if he has no siblings in this world and I saw someone posit that maybe he married into the Mandus family for nobility reasons but I don't think that's it. The Mandus meat company opened in 1828, meaning that by 1839 I DOUBT they were well off enough to marry a daughter off to a Prussian baron considerimg their family started as simple butchers lol. Plus, it's said in Dark Descent specifically that its presumed the baron DOES have a wife and heirs but no one has ever seen them, which I took to mean they don't actually exist and Alexander only claims they do to keep up appearances. Now, Daniel being the great-uncle makes much more sense. He has a sister, Hazel, that we know of and considering that it's highly hinted Daniel was raised in a lower-middle class family, with his father being an artisan of some kind - possibly something involving dying or painting - its far more possible for Hazel to marry into a family of butchers that wind up making a fortune for themselves that Oswald can inherit by the 1880s-90s, than it is for Alexander to marry into a family like that, as it would provide nothing for him nobility wise, but is a decent marriage prospect for Hazel. Also, in every ending in TDD Alexander either dies or goes through the portal. How would Oswald know about him? I guess unless the Machine/Orb showed him that as a vision too, but the way Oswald talks about him is with some sense of familiarity I feel, not as though he only learned of him in the past year. There's a 60 year difference between the first and second game, and if we make Daniel even as old as he's likely to possibly be in 1839, say 25, then by 1899 he would have been 85. Not unreasonable lol, and even if he didn't live THAT long, it's still possible Oswald knew him before he passed, or even knew Hazel if she wound up living to adulthood as by 1899, she would only be 75. Daniel survives in two of the original endings, one walking away from the castle and one ascending to some higher plane. Oswald says he can smell his great-uncles prescence in the Orb, which may hint to the latter ending being the canon one. But if this is the case it opens a lot more questions, - when don't these games lol? - like, did Daniel come back from that other plane and live a 'normal' life while also deepening his knowledge of the Orbs? I can't imagine he would have wanted to leave Hazel behind forever. Did Oswald speak with his great-uncle after having his visions? It's not terribly well explained how he gained knowledge of vitae which he specifically knows of from tales of Brennenburg, or got the body of the servant grunt straight up shipped to him lmao. I just.....it doesn't make sense for his great-uncle to be Alexander imo but if it's DANIEL then I have a lot of questions lmao.

#amnesia a machine for pigs #amnesia the dark descent #oswald mandus #daniel of mayfair #frictional games #amnesia justine

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sinfulxlusts · 4 years

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⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

For each “⭐️” I get, I’ll write a headcanon about our muses. - 20

Going under a read more to take care of everyone trying to scroll

1 Anna&Giorgio It was definitely Gio who asked Anna out first, and the first time, she said no but how about friendship? So they ended up hanging out as friends since well... Neither really has time for all that much romance anyways, and then one night after a few drinks too many and some delicious food, they ended up making out in the back of the uber that was supposed to drop them off at her place first, before he’d continue on back home. But instead they both got off at her place and since then they’re just keep on being dorky domestic fools.

2 Audrey & Delia

Audrey definitely does go insane by Delia and her levels of energy, but Delia definitely helps Audrey get out of her shell. So before Audrey is supposed to go on big talks in regards of her books she tends to ask Delia for a pep-talk before she just dies in her arms after the talk.

3 Bianca & Piper

Bianca definitely thinks Piper needs some more company in life, and just to live up to the lesbian stereotype, she brings home a full on black cat from the shelter. Except, it has a white heart on its tummy and Bianca ends up making an instagram for their shared cat while Piper gets to dress him up.

4 Caleb & Juniper

She definitely ends up building a little spice-garden in his kitchen with lots of herbs and veggies/other things that he can make into spices on his own and have his own home-grown spices in his kitchen that he knows the quality on.

5 Christine & Rosalyn

Christine totally would believe 1000 times more that Rosalyn has a crush on her sister, than she’d ever be into her.

6 Christopher & Odette

They definitely fucked before they even knew they were going to teach at the same university/college. So they hooked up at a club, before they suddenly ended up running into each other at campus.

7 Double Delia

The reason they keep comparing each other to foods, isn’t because they work in a restaurant. Oh no, it’s because during their first date, Delia (my Delia) loudly declared that “I so love you-” and Delia (yours) went Uh? Whut? Before she heard my Delia go “CHOCOLATE CAKE” So basically, foods became their ‘i love you’

8 Elizabeth & Lucia

Elizabeth is definitely terrified about Lucia’s family, even though she keeps on a brave face, because she feels like they’ll crush her if she ever upsets Lucia.

9 10 and 11 Emma & Lucia

Emma definitely didn’t realize she was romantically interested in Lucia until after they graduated Hogwarts, but when she realized it, she was deeeeply in love.

Emma 100% was seriously jealous when it came to Skye having the attention of HER best friend and she still holds a grudge against that australian blonde.

Lucia and Emma might have massive fights, but Emma always comes back and curls up on her lap, begging for snuggles because she can’t sleep with the idea of Lucia being mad at her.

12 Eva & Daniel

Eva probably smiles the widest whenever she and Daniel have their “first” dates over and over where he finds her in a bar they agreed to meet up in, and he is supposed to hit her up for the first time all over again.

13 Evan & Charlotte

Evan already has a whole section of his closet cleared for when Charlotte decides to move more of her things i, it’s just impossible to know because one the mirrors you slide around, is in front of that section.

14 Hazel & Aaron

Hazel HATES tomatoes, but she doesn’t want to be a bother, so she always takes them off her own food and puts them onto Aaron’s plate, no matter what they’re having.

15 Jack & Elodie

Jack secretly borrows the phones of multiple of his buddies just to hit up Elodie’s instagram and give her photos even more likes.

16 Jamie & Lila

Despite how badly Jamie wants to have little Jamie’s running around, he’s happy to never be a dad, as long as he gets to see Lila smiling at him, especially whenever she thinks he’s not looking. Which are the cutest smiles in his opinion

17 Lucilla & Robert

Lucilla is actually terrified that Robert will leave her for someone more “normal”. She’s terrified that her career, her fans, or her agent will end up chasing him away from her life, which is why she acts like a massive brat with him, because she’d rather have him leave because of *her* than because of her life.

18 Maria & Austin

Maria will forever think Austin looks like a homeless bum whenever he doesn’t take proper care of his beard, and will call him out on it.

19 Minnie & Austin

Minnie would never admit it properly, even if her mun keeps doing it, but she does get absurdly turned on whenever he wears the leather jacket with some rough jeans, or when he suits up with a full suit and tie and all.

20 Nadia & Peter

Nadia definitely originally just wanted to fuck Peter to get another thing crossed off from her bucket list of fucking, but she’s grown to love fucking him.

#strawberryxwrites

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danandthereader · 5 years

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Pls give me more vampire Dan (maybe another vampire tries to get ahold of the reader and Dan fights them idk)

A/N: Oh of course, lovely ! I’m always happy to write more Vampire!Dan. ♡ I’ll take your prompt about the fighting and work with that - it immediately give me inspiration and I ended up really liking this end product. I hope it’s cool that this is a little late. Think of it being posted like the Grumps playing Halloween games in December, doing a sort of Nightmare Before Christmas thing ! Thank you so much for your patience, and I hope you liked it. Heart you !

BY MY HAND

Your world had always been very open-ended and full of theories and guessing games. From the time you could truly understand what was going on around you, you had questions in your brain about everything.Your questions had lead you to some worthwhile answers, and some you wished you had never learned in the first place. You knew that things that were not always entirely human - like werewolves and vampires - existed alongside the normal folk. You also knew that things not of this world at all - faeries and pixies were the big two - popped in and out as well. Yet the line was drawn and religious figures - demons and angels, succubi and incubi, even ghosts were proven to not have any real ground. And for the most part, all of them lived together in a state of co-existence.But the legends and stories didn’t come from nowhere. Sometimes children did go missing because they were whisked away to the fae realm, or people were turned into something without choice. Far and few between, maybe, but it happened. Not many who experienced those sorts of things first-hard got to tell the tales themselves.

As you lay on your side, staring up the grandiose staircase at the two gentlemen going at it, you couldn’t help but wonder which side you would end up on at the end of this. The fight itself hadn’t been going on for very long, even though time, for them, was irrelevant, more insulting and violent words than actual action. But the vampire on the right - taller, older, with graying hair and calloused hands, proof that he had been turned much later in his life - had gotten a hold of you, and that’s when everything picked up. Daniel - sweet Danny, with his hazel eyes and chestnut curls, the one who had been turned and kept his soft features for eternity - had jumped to your rescue, and down the stairs you were tossed like a doll.Shifting, you internally took stock. No broken bones, some aching ribs, a few bumps, maybe a big bruise or two. Nothing serious. Slowly, you sat up, repressing a groan. Your eyes fell back to the two of them, struggling but not, Dan’s fist in the other’s hand; even from the bottom of the stairs you could see the smug grin playing on the gentleman’s lips. Dan tried with his other hand, but before he could land the blow, he was shoved back, and he hit the ground. You got to your feet as quickly as you could, no plan in mind other than to stop your love from getting hurt. The man took two steps, and planted his foot square on Dan’s chest, effectively leaving the boy breathless.They were talking, but you couldn’t hear it from this distance. Mouths were moving, hands had wrapped around ankles, and you were slowly climbing the red velvet staircase. Sure, you weren’t a vampire, but you couldn’t just do nothing, even if your side did hurt like a mother and you had no weapons on you.“… And once I take your manor, I’ll take the town…” He pushed harder into Dan’s chest. You could feel that, your chest constricting. And once the town is mine, the streets will run crimson, and every single human will either be dead or my next meal.” There was so much resentment, but so much triumph, in the intruder’s tone; it made your free hand ball into a fist. “Brian, this isn’t - That’s the last thing you want to do,” Dan replied, breathless, hurting in more ways than just physical, you realized. Your step faltered. Did he know this guy? “I know you. Hurting people, it’s not-” He was cut short. “You used to know me. Now I’m as much a stranger to you as I am to your friend here.”The acknowledgement made you jump a little.

The older vampire - Brian - ginned, all sharp teeth and murderous intent. “Didn’t think I noticed them after I tossed them down the stairs?” he asked, mocking, not looking at you. “They smell so good, Daniel. I can see why you like them so much.” Danny complimented you on your scent every once and a while, and from him it was sweet; from the other it made your skin crawl. “Maybe they’ll be the first I have after I impale you on your banister…” Your eyes narrowed. “Touch me and you’ll only taste your teeth,” you replied, a strong sentence you never thought you’d say. He only grinned wider. “Oh, they’ve got spice! You know I’m always for a little kick.” Kick. How tempting that was.“Brian I don’t want to hurt you,” Dan began, eyes shining red, the frustration getting to him. “But you’re making it really hard not to snap your foot in two right now.” Brian laughed. “You wouldn’t,” he replied, so sure. “I was always the killer one, not you.” His head tilted, resentment dripping off of him. But there was something else, something even you could feel. “Do you need a reminder?” Ruby eyes widened just a bit. “Brian-!”The threat was cut off, his for moving quick as a blink, from above him to in front of you. Stumbling, you tried to get back, but he caught your elbow before you could get too far, making you jerk violently. “No - you - motherfucker -” Your words were broken up by your struggle, which died out when you felt the ground fall away from your feet. Looking down, your stomach dropped. Right. Vampires did the levitation thing. “Choose your next words carefully, darling,” he called with a sickeningly coy sort of smile. Looking to you, he added, smile growing, “And I don’t mean you.” He looked back to Dan, far enough below that you could get hurt if Brian decided to let go. You were also above that infamous banister he spoke of a moment ago, broken at the tip with a dangerously sharp point. “So, my dear friend, what will it be?” Though Dan seemed at a loss, almost desperate, you were fuming. “Try to fight, lose the love of your current life, spend eternity alone?” Pause. “Or will you finally give in and let things go back to the way they used to be?” If this was how it used to be, it was no wonder Danny wanted no part of it.“ Hey!” Your voice rang out, capturing both men’s attention. “Yeah, you.” A slap of Brian’s wrist made him look at you, eyebrow cocked. “ I know you heard me earlier.” Your voice had raised now, pitched a bit. You weren’t a bargaining chip, not a prize to be won or a toy to be played with. “I said let - me - go!” Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, you let go of your body weight and the both of you dropped. He hadn’t been prepared for that.

The fall was short, but there was no impact to speak of, at least for you. Someone had, instead, caught you in their arms, tucking you into their chest and rolling on the ground with you to keep you safe.When you peeked up, a ‘fro of curls was there to greet you. But Dan wasn’t looking at you, and the expression his face was a fine mixture of pain and resignation. Following his gaze, you couldn’t help but gasp softly. On the banister, skewered through the stomach with no blood to speak of coming from the wound, was Brian, not even twitching.It took you a moment to realize that you had done that. You hadn’t just saved yourself, or Dan, but the whole town. You were a hero.You’d never been a hero before.

#danny sexbang #dan avidan #dan x reader #dan avidan x reader #reader insert

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puckyou-forpuckssake · 6 years

Text

The Long Road—T. Teravainen

Message me to request an imagine. Requested by anon. There is only one ending, but if there is demand to an alternate I will write one. I used the song (and music video) Marry Me by Thomas Rhett as inspiration for this (and maybe It’s Time by Imagine Dragons too). Sorry this took so long! Check out my blog for the master list or more imagines by searching “hockey imagines”

“Teuvo, I love you,” you moaned. Teuvo grinned at you as he took another bite of his pancakes.

“I told you. Good pancakes here.”

As you wiped syrup off your face, you noticed Teuvo messing around with his food, and it wasn’t in a playful way. You had been concerned since you arrived. He didn’t have his normal feel. “What’s wrong, T?”

Teuvo took a deep breath.

“I’m getting married.”

You should’ve known that something was going to go wrong when you realized you were actually on time. You were never on time. The elevator breaking down between the 6 & 7 floors of your building made sure of that. “No,” you groaned.

“You sound happy,” the guy in the elevator joked. At the time it wasn’t funny. “I make joke. Should be fix soon.”

“I’m never on time. I was today until now. I don’t understand why my boss keeps me around,” you rambled.

“Maybe you good at job?”

You snorted. “I just run memos around for an advertising agency.”

“And I hit a rubber piece all day.”

“Attention occupants of elevator,” a voice said over the speaker. “We are working on getting you out. The firemen and engineer are on their way. Please stay calm. This process should take 30-60 minutes. Thank you.”

“You will be late,” the guy paused. “We be here together for awhile, so it is time to introduce ourselves. I’m Teuvo from floor 23.”

You smiled as you pulled out your phone to text your boss. “I’m Y/N from floor 17.”

You weren’t sure if you wanted to throw up or run away and hide when you saw Teuvo walk over with the blonde. “Y/N, this is my fiancé, Laila. Laila, this is my really good friend, Y/N.”

Really. Good. Friend. It hurt so much.

Laila gave you a bitter smile. “Hello.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” He must see something you didn’t. Maybe she was perfect when they were alone. He looked so happy. All you wanted was for him to be happy. You’d respect her for him.

Teuvo grinned. “You two get to know each other. Sepe just should up. Of course he’s late. At least you were on time, Y/N.” He winked at you.

The faux smiles disappeared when he was gone. “So how did you guys meet?” You asked her.

“Finland.”

“How long have you guys been together?”

“Awhile. How about you?”

“Chicago, and awhile.”

Three months since the elevator incident and Teuvo was now a constant in your life. You came to learn, the day after the incident, that he was actually a hockey player for the Chicago Blackhawks when you went with your boss to a commercial shoot to take notes and he was present.

“What did you think I meant when I say I hit rubber all day?” He had asked when you admitted your shock.

Every morning he would stop by your apartment to get you on your way. Sometimes he bought you coffee and sometimes you repaid the favor. On home game nights, you’d bring him food before and after the games. Away games you called him or texted him, a FaceTime when it was a tough loss. He tried to cheer you up whenever possible when your job or life got you down. He’d even started to teach you how to skate.

“It’s like walking. Left foot, right foot,” he instructed.

You clung tighter to the wall as you inched forward on the skates. “I’m not cut out for this. I’m going to fall flat on my ass.”

Teuvo shook his head. “You learn how to walk as baby. You learn how to skate as adult. If you fall, I will catch you,” He skated towards the benches and grabbed a hockey stick. When he reached you, he stuck the stick out horizontally. “Grab it. I will pull.”

Hesitantly, you grabbed the stick and he slowly pulled you around the ice. “Now I want you to move your feet like I taught you,” he told you after you started to clearly enjoy being on the ice.

You felt confident now and took a few strides forward and decided to take you hands of the stick. “Y/N!” He shouted as you misstepped. You closed your eyes, preparing for impact, but never felt yourself come in contact with the cold, hard ice. You felt Teuvo’s arms instead. Panic glazed his hazel eyes but softened when he noticed you were okay. “Not yet. Not ready.”

“Too late,” you whispered.

“You want me to what?” There was no way Teuvo had just said we he had said, and clearly, based off the look on Laila’s face, he had not discussed this with his fiancé.

“You will plan our wedding,” Teuvo repeated. “If that is okay with you. Laila has given me list of her wants and you already know what I look for in a wedding. It would make me happy.”

Those words struck you cold. You couldn’t say no now. You’d rather live in pain for the rest of your life than to see him unhappy. With a pained smile, you answered yes.

The knocks grew louder before you sighed and went to open the door. Standing there, as expected, was Teuvo; however, unexpected, was the bags in his hands. “I bring you that weird mango ice cream you like and those Chinese noodles and chicken nuggets your mouth drools for. I also have those spy movies you like. Ones you don’t own.”

“Why are you doing this, T?” You asked, walking back to the couch.

Teuvo shut the door and set the food on the table. “We watch the Sean Connery one’s first and then Daniel Craig, Pierce Brosnan, and Roger Moore.”

“Teuvo!” He dropped the dvd to look at you. You enjoy his surprises like this but normally something called for this, and didn’t know about your job. “What’s going on? Why are you doing this?”

“Can’t I spend time with one of my favorite women? I like doing stuff like this.”

“T, I know you randomly surprise me but this is a little much. What happened?”

He sighed. “I got traded to the Canes.”

Teuvo was going to North Carolina. He was moving out of Chicago. “I got transferred and promoted to Charlotte as an event planner,” you blurted.

He looked confused before he grinned. The realization had struck him. “Charlotte is in North Carolina, which is where Raleigh is. We’re gonna be in the same state!”

He quickly pulled you into his arms tightly, burying his face in your hair. “I was worried I was going to lose you from my life,” he murmured, “I can deal with 2 hours.”

You hugged him. “I’d never leave your life, T. I’m always here for you.”

You watched the caterers bring in the food and the baker the cake. Glancing down at the clipboard, everything was perfect.

“No, that goes in the living room,” you instructed him. “Why would I put that in my bedroom?”

Teuvo set the picture down. “I’m sorry I questioned your clipboard.”

“My clipboard?” You asked.

He walked out of the room and came back with a bag. Inside was a navy blue clipboard that faded into dark red with your initials in gold. “I know you like a schedule and you are now a planner. Every planner needs a clipboard.”

You blushed. “You’re such a softie.”

It was then his turn to blush. “Anything to see that smile.”

“I know that face,” you turned around to see Teuvo standing there. He was dressed up in his white tux with pink tie and boutonnière. It was Laila’s idea. If it were your wedding, he’d be in a navy suit with a red tie and boutonnière. But it’s not your wedding. It was his. And hers.

“What’s bothering you, Y/N?” He asked.

“Nothing is. Just trying to make sure everything is perfect.”

Teuvo shook his head. “Your dressed in black and have that look. You are going to a funeral it seems. Tell me what’s wrong?”

This was your chance. You could tell him now. If he feels the same way, you could make this work. If he didn’t, you’d be losing the most important person in your life...but at least he’d be happy. That’s why you had done all of this in the first place. It made him happy. And sometimes that’s what counted. It hurt a little less if you let them go happy.

“Y/N?”

You took a deep breath and hugged him. He held you tightly too, as if he also knew this might be the last time. You didn’t want to let go but knew you had to. It was almost time.

“You’re should be arriving anytime,” you informed him. “Go finish getting ready. Within the hour, you’ll be married.”

“Y/N...are you sure?” He asked. He held your hand tightly in his. “Are you absolutely you sure?”

You weren’t sure what he meant by that. You nodded slowly in response. Neither of you walked away. “Teuvo! Where are you?” You heard Sebastian, his best man, yell. Your hands fell apart. “It’s time.”

The sight was beautiful. You had always wanted to see the northern lights. Teuvo has granted you that wish for your birthday by taking you to Finland. The thick coat wasn’t enough to keep you warm. He took notice and pulled you closer. You both spent a lot of time like this whenever you were together. Those moments were cherished now. Raleigh was treating him very well, as was Charlotte for you. Sometimes you couldn’t always be together. You wondered if Teuvo was just as in awe as you. Glancing over, you saw him staring at you and not the northern lights. He didn’t look away when you stared right back. Instead, he smiled. “You like it?”

“I love it. I love everything here.”

His smile grew. “I knew you would. You like Finnish things.”

“I love Finnish things,” you said absentmindedly.

Teuvo only chuckled and kissed the top of your head. “I love Y/C things,” he whispered in Finnish.

You stood in the back of the venue and watched the guests sit down. Teuvo had smiled at you as he walked down the aisle. You tried not to cry as Laila walked towards the love of your life. He smiled when she got there. He was happy. That’s all you wanted was for him to be happy, even if that wasn’t with you. It was too much to handle though. He watched you walk towards the exit of the venue as she said “I do.”

It’s time, he decided.

——One Year Later——

The thought of seeming him nerved you. He always made you nervous. You were happy for him though. The Hurricanes has won the Stanley Cup, and it was Teuvo’s day with the Cup and he wanted you there. It had been a great year for him: he’d gotten married, won the Cup, and was going to be a father. Glancing down at your phone, you realized it was time to go.

Arriving, you saw standing proudly by the Cup. He was talking to his brother and Sebastian. You took a deep breath before walking confidently towards him. Instantly, his eyes lit up when he saw you. He excused himself to come over to you.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said as he hugged you. “I was worried you weren’t going to make it.”

You smiled. “I sometimes can be late. It’s acceptable.”

Teuvo shook his head but kept on grinning. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you answered. “And you?”

“On a high of excitement,” he almost squealed. “It’s my second cup and I’m not even 30.”

“I’m proud of you, T.”

You truly were. He had worked very hard for this. He deserved every bit of this. “Laila is by the punch if you want to talk to her,” he mentioned. “I think you should. Plus I have a few things I need to discuss with Sebastian.”

That was his sign that you had to go talk to her. You thought about not talking to her but she had already noticed you and was walking over. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

It was completely awkward between the two of you. “How are you?” You asked.

“Doing a lot better. And you?”

“I have my days.”

You both stood there silently, praying for Teuvo to come and fix this. Thank god he came over at the moment with Sebastian. “Sepe said yes to being godfather. Did she say yes to godmother?”

“Godmother? You want me to be godmother? But why?” Laila shrieked.

“Because you’re with Sebastian,” you answered. Teuvo coughed softly, signaling for you to give a better answer. “And because you are an important part of our lives whether it seems like it or not. You, more or less, brought Teuvo and I fully together. This is our way of saying thank you and to prepare you and Sebastian for children.”

Laila blinked and looked between you, her ex-fiancé, and her boyfriend. The two men nodded. It seemed a little odd at first when Laila and Sebastian had gotten together, but Teuvo was relieved. He believed them to a way better match. You agreed.

“I don’t know what to say,” she replied quietly. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Neither were we,” you snorted. “But that’s just how the world works. You end up in places you never expected.”

“This is why you can’t plan life,” Teuvo said to you.

“I’ll do it,” Laila answered. “I will be godmother to your baby.”

You hugged her first and then excused yourself. You hadn’t expected to get emotional. At least not at this moment. “Are you okay?” Teuvo asked.

You nodded. “I think I’m just hormonal. I didn’t want them to see me cry yet.”

Teuvo chuckled. “But they already witnessed that when we got married. We were both in tears from the moment I asked you to marry me to you saying yes to our I do’s and that kiss to seal deal. Tears the whole way.”

“Happy tears.”

Teuvo wipes away the tear on your cheek and kissed you. “It worked out in the end. We just took the long way. Now let’s go celebrate Mrs. Teravainen. We have exciting news to share.”

“After this, your family will never want to come to a party hosted by us ever again.”

Teuvo chuckled. “Probably not. I know for a fact mummi does not like these bombshells.”

“That’s why I told her in advance.”

Teuvo sighed in relief. “Thank goodness. The last thing we need is mummi having a heart attack at this party.”

You chuckled and kissed your husband. You were happy life had finally worked out from that time stuck in the elevator so long ago, evenif you had taken the long road to get there. But that didn’t matter anymore. It was time for the next chapter in your life with Teuvo.

#teuvo teravainen #teuvo teräväinen #teuvo teravainen imagine #teuvo teräväinen imagine #carolina hurricanes #carolina hurricanes imagine #hockey #nhl #hockey imagines #nhl imagines

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justanoutlawfic · 5 years

Text

The Virgin: Chapt. 2

Summary: The day that changes their lives forever. Lacey has to break the news to both Regina and Robin about her “mistake”.

Also on AO3

They say you never see a broken heart coming. Robin, on the other hand, had been preparing for his for the past 3 weeks.

He knew the odds, both he and Marian did. They had talked over the procedure extensively before they decided to actually go through it. After he was given a clean bill of health, they at first debated if they would ever use the sample. They were lucky enough to have Roland, he was just over a year old when they got the news that the cancer was gone. For the next three years, they were extremely happy. They had each other, their thriving hotel.

Even so, Robin couldn’t shake this overwhelming need that something was missing. He had only felt that once before, right after they conceived Roland. It was then he had decided to open his own hotel. It’d be under his father’s branch (along with her family being on the board), but it would still be something that he and Marian would run mostly on their own. The Marbella was their second child, they had put so much blood, sweat and tears in it. Now, he felt that again. Roland was getting older, he and Marian were doing very good. So, after his yearly check-up, he had broached the subject with Marian.

She was skeptical and rightfully so. The procedure had such a slim chance of working and it was his only sample, his last sample. The doctors had encouraged him to give it prior to his chemotherapy and it had been the right choice. After everything was said and done, there was no way they could conceive another child without that sample. Robin pointed out that it was there for a reason. If it didn’t work, then they could discuss other options. There was no harm in trying, right?

So, Marian had agreed. She scheduled an appointment with Lacey and had done all the right things after. For once, she delegated her duties with the hotel and heavied her assistant’s workload. She went to bed at a reasonable hour and though she already ate healthy, she was even more on top of it. Robin did whatever he could to make it easier on her.

They didn’t discuss the possible outcomes over those 3 weeks, they had done that enough. Whether it was good or bad, they didn’t bring it up at all. If it weren’t for the little note in both of their calendars to head to Lacey’s office exactly 3 weeks after the insemination, they may not have ever spoken of it at all.

The morning of the appointment, things went as normal. Robin woke up to the smell of Marian cooking breakfast. He showered and dressed before making his way into the kitchen part of their suite. They had decided to have a suite built onto the hotel for them while it was in construction, so they would be close if there were any issues. It was like a penthouse, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room and kitchen. Roland found it cool that he got to live in a hotel, just like the character in his favorite books, Eloise at the Plaza.

“Morning,” he said, kissing the top of Roland’s head before pecking Marian’s lips.

“You’re having breakfast with us this morning, Papa?” Roland asked from his spot at the table.

“That’s right. Your mama and I have an appointment to head to later.”

“I still get to hang out with Grace, right?”

“Of course.”

Marian turned towards the table, two plates in hand. “I’ve got pancakes for my boys.”

“What would we do without you?” Robin wrapped an arm around her. “What do we say to Mama, Roland?”

“Thank you, Mama!”

Marian grinned and set them down, before giving Robin another kiss. He let it linger for a moment, wanting to savor the happy moment. She stroked his cheek.

“No matter what the outcome, we’re going to be okay,” she whispered. “No matter what Lacey says.”

“I know,” Robin said, wishing more than anything his heart would let him believe it.

Regina hated Saturdays. During the week, she had work to keep her busy. On the weekends, all she had was her apartment. Sure, she’d grade papers or go to the store, but those were the days she was reminded most that she was alone.

Luckily, that particular Saturday, she had been invited to join Emma, Neal and Henry at the zoo. If she could count on anything remotely close to family, it’d be those three. She had met Emma when they were 10 years old. Both had grown up in the foster system, having scarily similar stories. Regina had nearly been adopted by a great foster family when she was 5 years old, but then the foster mother passed away and the father couldn’t afford to keep her, no matter how hard he tried. Emma had been passed by when her long term foster family got pregnant with a biological child and his medical bills meant they could only keep one. While Regina had been left on the steps of the fire station, Emma was abandoned on the side of the road.

They were both headstrong and determined, a combination that might have made them enemies, if they didn’t love each other so much. Together, they stayed in the same group home until they were 16. That was when faux-leather wearing Emma met equally covered in faux-leather Neal Cassidy. Emma snuck out of the room they shared with 2 other girls every night for 6 months, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when she got pregnant. She emancipated herself and Neal got kicked out of his dad’s, the two managing to find housing together by the time Henry was born. Regina became Henry’s godmother and for the past 8 years, that was the closest she had to family.

As happy as Emma was at 24, it hadn’t always been easy for her. She struggled to keep up with work and had to drop out of high school, just to be able to take care of Henry. Her and Neal’s relationship had been rocky, including a split once both turned 20. They had only gotten back together a year prior, as they had both grown up some and were ready. Henry was a happy and well-adjusted kid, both his parents loved him. It didn’t mean that both clearly hadn’t had their lives derailed.

Regina had made a vow after she saw firsthand what Emma had been through. She wasn’t going to have sex until marriage. She was going to college, start her career. One day she’d start a family, but not until she was ready.

She had come close in college. When she met Daniel at freshmen orientation, it almost felt like fate. They dated for 2 years, getting engaged a year in and planned to marry as soon as she got her teaching certificate. He was perfectly fine with waiting, something most guys weren’t. Regina didn’t believe in fairytales, but it certainly felt like she was living in one.

Her bubble burst a year into the engagement. Daniel had been walking back to his dorm after a night out to buddies and was hit by a driver that didn’t stop at a red light. They never found who it was and Regina was left devastated. If it weren’t for her academic scholarship, she probably would’ve spent every day in bed. Suddenly, her life became more than just proving she wasn’t the poor foster kid. She had to do it for Daniel. He wouldn’t get to live the rest of his life, so she would live hers for him.

Regina pulled into the parking lot of the zoo and started heading towards the zoo. She hadn’t been feeling well and hadn’t been able to keep anything down for the past couple of days, but a promise was a promise. Besides, getting a glimpse of the Swan-Cassidy family made it worth it.

“Auntie Regina!” Regina smiled as Henry ran towards her, rosy cheeks and hazel eyes.

“Hey sweetie.” She pulled him into her arms and kissed the top of his head. “You ready to see some animals?”

“Yeah, I was reading up about all the different ones they had. I guess one of the pandas just had a baby. Did you know they weighs less than a pound when they’re born?”

“I didn’t know that,” Regina said, allowing him to take her hand and prattle on about all the panda facts he read.

Emma chuckled, ruffling her son’s hair. “You’re going to talk your aunt’s ear off, aren’t you?”

“At least he’s well read. I wonder who he gets that from, because it certainly wasn’t either of you.”

Neal pretended to look offended. “Just for that, I am so not buying you a pretzel.”

Regina laughed, shaking her head. “That’s fine. I haven’t been able to eat for days now.”

Emma studied her face. “You do look a bit pale. If you’re not up to this, we could always come another day.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. I made the mistake of eating from that deli on the corner, that always messes me up. Come on, let’s buy tickets.”

Regina kept drinking from her water bottle as they made it around the zoo, but that only seemed to make her feel worse. She plastered a smile on her face, not wanting to ruin it for Henry. They spent a lot of time with the pandas and standing in the shade helped, at least a little bit. When they stopped for lunch, she tried to eat a salad. Halfway through the overpriced Cesar, however, she felt sick to her stomach. Regina raced to the bathroom, unaware that Emma was on her tail.

“Neal can finish up with Henry here, I’m taking you to the doctor,” she said, standing outside the stall.

Regina groaned, wiping her mouth and flushing. “I’m fine, Emma.”

“No, you’re not. Come on, if you’ve been this sick for days, it has to be more than Al’s.”

Regina felt stupid as she sat on the cot in the emergency room, Emma standing beside her. The doctors were running tests, but couldn’t find anything wrong with her. If it truly was food poisoning, it would’ve been gone by then. At most, it was probably just the stomach flu. In which case, she could’ve avoided a trip to the doctor. Even so, Emma wasn’t backing down.

The doctor that had taken her vitals came back in. “Well, we have your results. You’re not sick, you’re pregnant.”

Regina laughed. “That’s impossible.”

“I’m afraid it’s very possible. We tested both your urine.”

Emma’s eyes widened and a grin spread across her face. “Did you get some, finally?”

Regina rolled her eyes. “No! I’m a virgin.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “A virgin?”

“Yes, I know it’s hard to believe…”

“It’s very hard to believe, given your test.”

“False positives are a thing.”

“Yes, but normally false negatives are more popular.”

Emma held up her hand, interrupting. “Where did you get your degree? The University of Freaking Dumbass? If my best friend says she’s a virgin, then she’s a virgin. Your test must be faulty or something!”

“Our tests are not…”

“Run the test again.”

The doctor rolled his eyes, but nodded. “Fine. She’ll need to pee again.”

Regina was given a bottle of water and she downed it, peeing in the cup as soon as she was able to. She stayed standing this time, watching the nurse put the strip in herself.

“Pink means pregnant.” He pulled the strip up from the cup…revealing the pink.

Regina had always fucking hated pink.

Robin knew his sister very well. After years of watching her battle sobriety and numerous other bad decisions, he could spot her “I fucked up” face from a mile away. She had it on as soon as she walked into her office the morning that his world was turned on its head.

“It didn’t work,” he said, bluntly. He could feel Marian squeezing his hand and he returned the gesture. “Just say it.”

Lacey slowly sat down behind her desk. “There’s a bit more to it than that.”

Robin’s mind instantly went to the worst. “Did you pick up something else in the tests?”

“No…not that…it’s just…I didn’t inseminate Marian.”

Marian’s grip tightened on her husband’s as she focused in on her sister-in-law. “What? Yes you did, I was there.”

“I put saline in.”

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because I accidentally put Robin’s sperm in another patient.”

Robin had been angry with Lacey in the past. When they were kids and she broke his favorite action figure because she wanted to play surgeon. When they were teenagers and she stole his prom money to go partying with her friends. The time she missed Roland’s first birthday to go on a vacation with a man she had just met.

Anger wasn’t the right word in this moment. There was shock, of course, but once that settled…he was left with this bubbling feeling in his stomach.

“How the hell does that happen?” Marian asked, when she realized Robin wasn’t going to.

“I was stressed out, that was the morning after I found out that Adam was cheating on me…”

Robin finally found his words. “Were you drinking?”

“No.”

The look in her eyes said it all. He gritted his teeth. “So, my one and only sample…our only chance at adding to our family…is out in some random woman? Who will probably never even think that it could be mine? If it even worked.”

“Well, actually, we’re lucky in that regard. It did work…and she’s been calling me for the past hour, because she’s unsure of how it could’ve happened. I guess she hasn’t had sex lately.”

Robin wasn’t sure whether that made things better or worse. It had worked, he was going to be a father…to another woman’s child. Marian still had a grip on his hand, but it wasn’t tight anymore. Despite sitting so close to her, he had never felt so far away.

Regina sat next to Emma, waiting for Dr. French-Gold to come in. This wasn’t possible, it just couldn’t be. There had to be some hormonal reason behind it, maybe she needed to take pills? She was just lucky that the doctor had agreed to see her on such short notice.

The door opened and Lacey walked in, looking just as stressed as she had the day Regina had met her. Maybe this woman needed a therapist or pills or yoga. She always looked like she was on the brink of tears.

“Doctor, I think there’s something wrong with me. These pregnancy tests keep coming back possible, but it’s just not possible.”

Lacey cleared her throat, leaning against the cabinets. “I’m afraid it is.”

“Excuse me?”

“I…accidentally inseminated you with a man’s sperm.”

Regina’s heart began beating heavily in her chest. Emma was yelling at the doctor, but she couldn’t make out the words. This wasn’t supposed to happen, no, it was impossible! She had done everything that she had told herself she would. She hadn’t even had sex with the man that she loved with everything in her. She was supposed to wait until marriage. That was the plan, you can’t get pregnant by being abstinent. It’s the one fool proof way. At least that was what every sex ed class she ever had told her.

Her hand went over her stomach. A life was growing in there. A life she had created with a man she didn’t even know. That sounded so wrong.

What was she going to do? She lived in a one-bedroom apartment, she got a teacher’s salary. She barely had her life together, how was she supposed to take care of this one?

Lacey’s words finally broke through. “The father knows what happened, but I haven’t told him your name.”

Regina looked up at her, her eyes wet with tears. “The father?” She whispered.

“He’s here…if you wanted to meet him.”

“No…no. I need…I need to think.”

Lacey nodded, pulling out a pad and scribbling on it. “This is a prescription, for a pill that would terminate the pregnancy. You have no obligation to talk with him. While it is his sperm, it’s your body. Your choice.”

Abortion. Regina could get an abortion. Years of fighting for the pro-choice movement and suddenly, she was forced to make it herself.

“Yeah, because that makes it so much easier,” she mumbled, taking the piece of paper away from her.

“If you do choose to carry forward…”

“She won’t be talking to you,” Emma interrupted. “You should lose your license!”

Lacey let out a deep breath, focusing in on Regina. “I am so sorry, Miss Mills. You have no idea.”

“You’re sorry?” Regina felt her blood boil. “You’re sorry?”

“I never meant for this to happen.”

“Well this is going to be real easy for you, isn’t it? You’re not the one that’s fucking pregnant.”

She walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her. Leaning up against the wall, she felt her breathing pick up once again, the tears sliding down her face. Emma stepped out of the room, putting a hand on her arm.

“Let’s go back to my place. I asked Neal to take Henry to Cecelia’s. We can talk…”

“I’m sorry, but that’s the last thing I want to do.”

“You can’t do this alone.”

“I just need to think.” She wiped her eyes, trying to will herself to stop crying. “I’ll drop you off at home.”

“If you’re sure.”

Regina wasn’t sure of anything. She just knew that if she let Emma coddle her, she was going to break. As they walked out of the office, she found herself looking around the waiting room. There were some men sitting there. Some were clearly waiting on the women in their lives, but one could very well be the father of the baby she was carrying.

The baby she was under no pressure to carry to term, as the doctor told her.

Regina had always tried to plan for even what couldn’t be. There was no way she ever could’ve done that this time.

#the virgin verse #outlaw queen #outlaw queen au #oq #oq au

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rockhoochie · 6 years

Text

All In

THIS WORK IS FOR PERSONS 18 YEARS AND OLDER.

Pairing: Sam x Reader x Dean (No Wincest)

WC: ~8,000

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit sexual content, explicit language, dom/sub undertones, dom!Sam, sub!Reader, name-calling, unprotected sex (wrap it up, peeps!) dirty filthy smut, and a teensy bit of fluff.

Summary: Y/N has been riding with the Winchesters for months, falling for both Sam and Dean. Among the twinkling lights of Las Vegas, she uncovers a secret they’ve been keeping from her - one that may change all of their lives in a way she could never imagine.

Y/N Submit: Interactive Fics (What is this?)

Author’s Notes: Whew, this escalated quickly! Written for the wonderful @squirrel-moose-winchester ‘s 1K Make it Dirty Gif Challenge. My gif is embedded in the text. This is the first threesome I’ve ever written, so...well, I hope I did okay! I love your comments and reblogs, so if you enjoyed this please let me know! Special thanks to my beta - my husband. And as always, thank YOU so much for reading!

**My work is not to be copied, altered, or shared to other sites without my express written permission**

We’d finally rolled into Vegas in the late afternoon. After three weeks on the Rugaru hunt from hell, all three of us were beyond ready for a break. Thanks to Sam and his newly acquired platinum card, he splurged on a beautiful two-room suite. Compared to our usual accommodations it felt foreign, almost too luxurious and self-indulgent. But hell, if we didn’t deserve it.

Sam and Dean settled into the room with two queen beds, letting me have the king room to myself - along with it’s attached, private bathroom that included a whirlpool tub. The only quid-pro-quo was that I let Dean use it at least once.

After stuffing ourselves at the hotel buffet we each went our separate ways. Sam had tried to talk me into going hiking with him at some nature preserve, while Dean rambled something about Baby needing a new set of rims and wanting someone to blow on his dice. Insisting that neither activity interested me, I told them I was just going to hang out by the hotel pool.

I lied.

I really needed to get away from the two of them for a while, and I needed to be alone.

After shutting the door to my room, I flopped down on the soft, pillow-top mattress with a moan that would rival any porn star’s.

Sam and Dean Winchester crashed into my life nearly a year ago, after rescuing my careless ass from the throes of a witch’s curse. I had been taken miles from my current hideout and my ever faithful but piece of crap car, with nothing but the clothes on my back and about two bucks in my pocket. They took me to the bunker, set me up with some gear and a couple of new credit cards, and let me recover from the powerful spell that had nearly killed me. The night before I’d planned to be on my way, a solid lead on a werewolf pack they’d been tracking came in, and I’d offered to lend them an extra pair of hands.

It turned out that the three of us made an impeccable team, taking out the pack in record time with minimal damage to ourselves. Soon after, case after case seemed to find us, as though the universe didn’t want to allow me to part ways with them. And amidst all the dirt, blood, and fire we left in our wake, a loving friendship grew fast and strong between us.

I felt more at home with them that I ever had anywhere. Unlike the other hunters I'd known, they never underestimated me, knowing I could hold my own but never failing to hold me up when I needed them to. They had faith in my strengths and reinforced my weaknesses, all the while being ever the gentlemen. Weeks flew by, quickly building into months; months that earned me a comfortable place in the Impala’s back seat, my own room at the bunker and an insistent invitation to join them in Vegas.

All served up by two of the most gorgeous hunters ever to salt and burn their way across this earth.

Living and hunting with Sam and Dean had become delectable torture. The two of them unknowingly branded the most indecent, lecherous fantasies into my brain, reigniting a sex drive had been shelved once I’d started hunting. The more time we spent together - on the road, sharing close quarters, in small towns and seedy bars, or engrossed in late night research sessions - the more my imagination went wild. There were mornings - too many mornings - that I struggled to look them in the eye after what I’d done with one or both of them in my dreams.

And it was getting harder and harder to push the thoughts away. Every day I spent with them filled me with more desire than I’d ever felt in my life.

There was Sam, with his hazel eyes that switched their dominant shade to match whatever color flannel he wore, with his sweet smile and gentle laugh, those sharp cheekbones, long fingers, and hard, chiseled body…the several times I’d seen him working out shirtless had me sprinting to my room and my hand sliding straight into my pants.

There was Dean, with his sense of humor, those crinkles that formed on the corners of his forest green eyes any time he grinned with his uncannily perfect lips, freckles that adorably dusted his nose, his bowed legs and firm, broad chest…everything he did, from the way he devoured a bacon cheeseburger to the way his muscles strained when he worked on Baby, left me wet and aching.

God, what I wanted them to do to me...things I never imagined that I would want or find pleasure in. To let my guard down, to be at their mercy and obey any sinful command they issued...a single night of that, and I would die a happy woman. Maybe it was because they made me feel safe. Protected, yet respected. I trusted them with my life - I would trust them implicitly with my body.

But I knew it could never happen, with either of them. On the off chance something ever did transpire with one of them, I knew I’d still be wistfully attracted to the other. I’d long ago given up on trying to decide which man I wanted more, so I let myself get lost envisioning the three of us twisted together. Since nothing would ever come of it, what was the harm in a little X-rated daydreaming? I knew we loved one another, but I had fallen in love with them, and I was sure neither Sam or Dean saw me in the same light. Playful flirting aside, we were just three hunters who couldn’t possibly maintain normal relationships. But that was this life. Saving people, hunting things...it was a lonely business when it came to finding love.

So, I resigned myself into letting out my pent-up frustrations on subpar one-night stands whenever I had the rare chance, which always left me less than satisfied. More often, I settled for burning through batteries and putting myself in danger of developing a nasty case of trigger finger.

Our last hunt had almost killed me. Smack in the middle of Northwest Nowhere, there had only been one motel with one available room. At least there had been two beds, and at least we were comfortable enough to take turns sharing. But the nights either of them was next to me - Dean’s leathery, oaky scent taunting me, his warmth just out of my reach... the way Sam would sleep curled on his side, creating a space that seemed made for me to be nestled in... I had nearly gone insane. One shot of whiskey away from opening my mouth and making a huge mistake.

Which is why I desperately needed to go out tonight. After weeks on the road with the world’s finest embodiments of walking sex, I needed to get laid.

No, I needed to get fucked. Hard.

Hopefully somewhere in the swarm of Las Vegas inhabitants and tourists I could find a decent guy to sate me for a while. Someone tall and built, someone kind and funny and smart. A girl can dream, right?

Before parting ways, the three of us had planned to meet back up in the room, grab a late dinner at a restaurant with actual linen tablecloths, then head out to a club. Neither Sam or Dean had seemed too keen on the club idea, but instantly changed their tune after I suggested just going out on my own. I knew it was involuntary, protective instinct on their part - and honestly, it kind of turned me on - but hopefully after a few drinks, they’d each find themselves a distraction and leave me to my own devices.

Rolling off the bed, I called the front desk and had them send up a bottle of merlot. There had been a time, years ago, when all I would drink was wine. I could barely remember the last time I had it, since whiskey in all its forms is a vital part of a hunter’s toolkit. Fresh out of Bactine for the gash that Wraith gave you? Pour some Johnny Walker on it. Need to anesthetize yourself to dig a bullet out of your flesh? Nothing does it quite like six shots of Jack Daniels. Need to calm yourself after seeing a Winchester walk out of the shower, wearing nothing but a towel? Jim Beam to the rescue.

‘Hunter’s Helper’ indeed.

A knock on the door signaled my alcohol delivery. The room service attendant, a pretty Indonesian woman about my age and height, greeted me with my bottle, two glasses, and a smile. I let her in to open the wine and pour it into the delicate glasses, filling them halfway while we exchanged pleasantries. Once she left, I unceremoniously dumped one into the other, grabbed the bottle, and sipped on my nearly overflowing glass as I made my way into the bathroom.

Placing my drink on the vanity, I sat on the side of the tub and turned on the faucet, adjusting the temperature and letting the water flow over my fingers for a moment. Then I stripped out of my road-worn clothes, tossing them in a pile in the corner. Glass in hand, I stood and sipped, naked, waiting for the bath to fill. The wine was already sending a pleasant flush through me as I watched the steam rise. Jesus, how long had it been since I had a bath and not a shower? Maybe Dean could figure out how to put a tub in the shower room at the bunker...

That one little thought shot straight to my core, and now all I could picture was him, his brother and I in a slick, bubbly bath together...hot and wet, Sam’s lips trailing along my neck, his hand cupping and teasing one breast while Dean's mouth attended to the other, his fingers on a slow but steady course to reach between my legs…

Fuck.

I gulped down the rest of my merlot, poured myself a refill, and shut the faucet off. Setting the jet timer to 20 minutes, I slid into the tub, placing my glass on the ledge with a heavy sigh. Apparently even getting away from them was useless. For a brief moment, I considered letting the pulsing water beat against something other than my stiff muscles.

Instead, I decided to stave it off, in hopes of actual human contact. If I did manage to find a decent guy tonight, I almost pitied him - I was so worked up and tense, craving the weight of a body on me so badly that it would probably be over in ten minutes.

I let myself relax, forcing the thoughts of being wedged between two slippery Winchesters out by mentally reciting random incantations and spells for practice as I finished my wine.

The timer seemed to click off much too quickly, bringing the swirling bathwater to a stop. But between the heat and the wine, I was flushed red hot and a little lightheaded. I pulled myself out of the tub slowly, wrapping one of the plush towels around me and headed back to my bed. I turned the air conditioning up higher, letting the frigid breeze dry up the sweat that rolled down my cheeks.

Drowsiness dug its claws into me, drawing out a heavy yawn as I dug through my bag. I’d get dressed up later - for now, my ‘hoping-to-get-some-tonight’ underwear was all I needed. It was my one set of anything remotely resembling lingerie I had - after all, no need to be sexy while dripping in Ghoul goo or decapitating vampires. It was simple, a lacy, white cotton bra with thin black straps that sported a little black bow between the cups, and matching cheeky panties with a twin ribbon at the top. Unpretentious and not at all racy, but as I put them on I found myself feeling a little sexy for a change, unable to help myself from wondering if Sam and Dean would approve.

God, I needed sleep.

Eyeing the soft, complimentary bathrobe hanging in my closet, I wrapped it around me, then flung myself back on the bed. The clock on the nightstand read 5:02pm. I had a few hours before they’d get back and slipping into unconsciousness seemed like the best way to shut my brain off. Wrapping my arms around a spare pillow, I burrowed my face in it, breathing in the faint scent of lavender. This hotel was spoiling me. Within minutes, I was fast asleep.

I woke to the murmur of Sam’s and Dean’s voices outside my bedroom door. A little groggy from the wine and nap, I peered at the clock. Shit, it was after eight already. Why didn’t they wake me up? Maybe they tried and I was so out they didn’t want to bother me? After a full body stretch, I swung my legs over the bed and shuffled to the door. I could hear that they were in the middle of what seemed to be a lively conversation, and when I heard my name, I slowed my stride. Curiosity got the best of me, so I leaned close to the door and eavesdropped.

“...going out to a club with her, I don’t know.”

“What’s the big deal? Look, we can't hold her back from living her own life.”

“I don’t think I can stomach watching all these Vegas douchebags hit on her. The dicks she picks up - none of ‘em are good enough for her.”

Holy shit, they don’t think I’m here.

“She has to watch you hit on girls all the time, Dean. Bartenders...waitresses...Gas n’ Sip clerks...morticians...librari-”

“Not lately she hasn’t! I can hardly even look at other women anymore. And none of the guys she gets gives her what she wants. I hear ‘em leaving her room after two hours...or less.”

“How do you know what she wants? Has she actually told you her sexual fantasies?”

“Not exactly...kinda borrowed her laptop one night, after she went to bed. She forgot to close a couple of tabs and…”

“And?”

Oh god, no... please not…

“Chick gettin' spanked, tied up a little bit...callin’ the guy ‘Sir’, begging him to get her off with a -”

“Okay, okay, got it. Look, just because she likes watching it doesn't necessarily mean she likes to actually do that stuff.”

Too bad that Rugaru didn’t get me, because I am going to die from embarrassment anyway.

“Right. That's why you watch the same shit, because you only like to see it, not do it. Maybe she watches it because she wants to try it.”

“What else was she watching?”

“Two guys...one girl...”

“Really? Huh...”

Shit. Shit, shit shit. I’m going to have to move out. I can never look at these two again.

“I mean, a woman like Y/N... she needs to be treated right.”

“All right. What would you have to offer her that any other guy wouldn't?”

“How about the best night of her goddamn life?”

What?

“Wow, you’ve got a pretty high opinion of yourself.”

“Well, ever see a girl leave my room after an hour? Or yours for that matter? Doubt that she can act out her fantasies with random townies. Better to try that stuff out with someone you trust.”

“And I suppose you think you’d be the perfect guy for her.”

“Either one of us would be. Ah come on, Sammy, you love her as much as I do, I know you still think about it. Y/N’s a fuckin’ knockout.”

“Of course I love her, but we work with her. Hey, we’ve talked about this, it’s better for all of us to just to let it go. So no, I haven’t even thought about -”

“You’re so full of shit.”

“‘Excuse me?”

“You still moan her name in your sleep!”

“Well at least I’m doing it unconsciously!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m sorry, has she been showering with you lately, or is your hand’s name ‘Y/N’? You’d better keep it down or we might lose her.”

Oh my god. Am I really hearing this? Sam and Dean think about me this way? Want me? Love me?

“What can I say? She's smokin’ hot, sassy, smart as hell and a damn good hunter. All I know is I’m not sure what I wouldn't give for just one night with her. And I know you’re still thinking the same thing. “

“You don't know what I'm thinking”.

“Come on, man. You're thinking about wrapping that tie you're wearing around her wrists and smacking her beautiful, perfect ass while I'm busy licking every inch of her body.”

“Dude!”

“Jesus, sleeping next to her in that shitty motel...I almost said something, Sammy. You know, maybe we should just lay it all out, let her know how we feel.”

This is a joke. They know I’m here and they’re playing an evil practical joke on me and I’m going to kick both their asses six ways from Sunday...

“Dean, this...this is so not normal.”

“Name one damn thing about our life that is! We don’t get normal - never will. Plus, we’ve shared before...that chick in Dayton, that stripper in St. Louis -”

I’m dreaming. I’m still in that bed, drunk from half a bottle of wine and I’m dreaming.

“Yeah, but that was just...sex. This is Y/N.”

“Exactly. She needs us, and dammit Sam... we need her, and you know it. I say we go all in.”

“I don’t know...do you really think she’d be okay with it? I mean, what if she freaks out and runs, thinks she’s been living with a couple of psychopaths?”

“We are psychopaths...this line of work... And at least we’d know. I can’t hold out much longer, man. One of these days I’m gonna open my dumb mouth and it’s just gonna come out.”

“So what are we supposed to do?”

“You should ask her.”

“Me? Why me? You’re the one with the god-awful pickup lines that surprisingly seem to work.”

”I just think she’d rather hear it from you.”

“I can’t just ask her flat out, ‘hey, wanna have a threesome’!”

“Well...one of us needs to do it or it ain’t ever gonna happen... Come on.”

“Dean, you can’t be serious...”

“As a heart attack. Let’s go, two outta three.”

“Fine.”

Sam and Dean Winchester were in love with me.

Sam and Dean Winchester were playing Rock-Paper-Scissors to decide who was going to ask if they could both fuck me.

I’d heard enough.

“You know I can hear you both,” I shouted through the door.

Then I pushed it open.

There they were, both sitting on the sofa in their Fed suits, hands readied for their next round of roshambo. Sam swept his head in my direction, eyebrows raising in surprise as Dean quickly came to the realization that they were both busted.

Sam cleared his throat loudly and stood up. “Hey, Y/N… we were just...we thought you were still down by the pool and... we, uh...you still need some time to get dressed?” He was beet red, nervously running a hand through his chestnut hair.

My lips curved in a smile. “Unless I didn’t hear the two of you correctly, I don’t need to bother.”

Dean leaned back against the couch. “Y/N/N... exactly how much did you hear?”

Sam sat back down as I walked slowly toward them. Apprehension kept me from confessing everything that I’d heard them say. It felt too good to be true and I didn’t trust it yet.

“Let’s see...something about a threesome and the best night of my life?”

For all the talking they had been doing just moments before, they seemed to be at a loss for words. I folded my arms across my chest.

“Well?” I quipped playfully.

“Y/N, we’re so sorry,” Sam stammered. “We just...we didn’t think you were here and we were…it’s not...shit...” He bent his head forward, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Guys, I’m not mad. Not one bit.”

Dean grinned like a Cheshire cat as Sam looked back up at me with surprise.

“Really?”

I could feel myself blush as I nodded my head ‘yes’, fiddling with the tie on my robe. “So, what’s happens now?”

They both glanced at each other, speaking in that silent way that was always indiscernible to me but crystalline clear between them.

Dean patted the empty space on the cushion between him and his brother. “Why don’t you have a seat, sweetheart?”

I settled between them, my pulse pounding, straining to keep my composure and not throw myself at both of them right then and there.

Dean brushed a finger across my temple, pushing away a few strands of my hair. “So you’d really be okay with this? This is something you’d want?”

I turned to Sam, resting my hand on his knee. “It’s something I’ve wanted for a long time.”

His hand covered mine and gently squeezed. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Of course.”

“Have you ever done anything like this before?”

“No. But you two have?”

“A few times.”

Dean was running his hand up and down my arm, keeping uncharacteristically quiet.

“How about the things you like to watch?” Sam continued. “Being...dominated a little? Is that what you really like?”

Plush lips ghosted against my ear as the hand stroking my arm moved to my leg, still over the fabric of my bathrobe, gently massaging from my knee to the middle of my thigh.

“The thought of it, watching it... I wouldn’t mind trying it for myself. Do you like to do it?”

“To a point. But we don’t have to do that tonight- we can just keep it vanilla if-”

“Oh hell no, Winchester,” I winked, melting into Dean’s touch, “I’m all in.”

Sam grinned. “Okay. We’ll start slow. But at any time, any time at all, if you don’t like something, just say ‘no’ or ‘stop’ and we’ll move on. Is that okay?”

My eyes were fluttering shut as Dean’s caress became stronger, my head reeling at the thought of what was coming.

“Y/N, did you hear me?” Sam asked softly.

“Yeah, I heard. I say no, you stop.”

“One other thing. Dean and I, we kind of have...an arrangement when we do this. We’ll both be in this, but...well, I call the shots.”

I looked into Sam’s eyes and was met with an intensity I’d never seen before - not on a hunt, not after a kill, not from a win...it was unadulterated, predatory lust.

“Meaning?”

A wicked grin stretched across his lips. “Dean,” he said, “stop touching her.”

Immediately, Dean lifted his hand and pulled himself away.

Sam cupped my face in his hands, his thumb tracing my lower lip. “It means, Y/N, that I’m in charge and you both do what I say when I say it. Dean gets leeway, but not you. Do you understand?”

I could feel myself trembling, excitement and arousal and the thrill of exploring uncharted territory with the two men I loved coursing through every cell in my body. All I could manage was a nod.

Sam tutted with disapproval, tipping my chin upwards. “Rule one, Y/N/N, I ask you a question, you answer with your words.”

“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes Sam, I understand.”

“Rule two, you don’t get to call me Sam. You call me Sir, Daddy, or Master. Your choice. And that,” he said pointing to his brother, “is Dean. Only ‘Dean’. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he hummed, burying his nose in my hair, his lips ghosting along my neck. “And besides Y/N, what should we call you?”

“I liked you calling me a good girl.”

“Okay. Is there anything else you’d like to be called?”

“Whatever you and Dean want to call me, Sir.”

“Are you sure?” Sam took my face in his hands, leaning in, barely brushing his lips against mine. His massive hand slid up the back of my neck, gripping a fistful of hair but not pulling, the buzz of his low, seductive voice vibrating against my lips. “We’ll call you a good girl, Y/N, but what if we call you a naughty little whore? What happens if I call you my slut or Dean calls you his fucktoy? Would that be okay, princess?”

“Yes Sir, all of it,” I breathed, waiting for Sam’s mouth to fully claim mine, ready for the deep, probing kiss I had only been able to dream about until now.

“All right then,” he said, pulling away. “Now how about you stand up for us?”

Biting back a huff of disappointment I complied, lifting myself off the couch. Both brothers were smirking, Sam with one foot propped up on his knee, fingers steepled against his lips. Dean leaned back and loosened his tie, legs open, displaying the impressive bulge between them.

“Dean, where should we start with her?”

“I think she should take off that robe and let us see what we’ve been missing all this time.”

“Take it off, Y/N.”

I tugged at the already loose knot, gasping as the robe opened and the cool air of the room hit my bare skin. I shrugged it completely off, letting it fall to the floor.

“Damn, sweetheart,” Dean rasped.

“Very nice Y/N. Now turn around. Let us have a good look at you.

Pivoting, I turned my back to them, craning my neck over my shoulder to see their reactions.

“You were right, Dean. She does have a perfect ass. I can’t wait until she misbehaves and I get to spank it.”

I couldn’t help the whimper that escaped my lips as wondered how the hell I was still standing.

“Christ baby girl, you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

“Y/N,” Sam said, “Thank Dean for the nice compliment.”

“Thank you, Dean,” I purred. “And thank you, Sir.”

“Behaving so well already. Turn back around.”

I turned again to directly meet their stares. Sam leaned back, and I could see his prominent erection twitching under the fabric of his pants. Dean already had his hand on his, dragging his palm against himself.

“Y/N, I want you to sit next to Dean.”

Dean’s arm wrapped around my shoulders as I sat as close to him as possible, placing my hand on his thigh. His hand floated from between his legs to my lace-shielded breasts, his lips attaching to my neck as he kneaded and teased each one. My head fell back with a moan when his hand traveled downwards, my hips rocking back and forth in anticipation of being touched where I needed it the most.

“Hmm, someone’s eager,” he mumbled against my neck.

“Dean, please…Sir, can Dean touch me?”

“He is touching you, princess.”

“Need more,” I whimpered as Dean’s finger trailed just under the waistline of my panties.

“She does,” Dean husked, placing his warm hand against the fabric of my covered sex. “Can already feel how wet she is for us.” My body jerked with a gasp as he pressed against the wetness that was beginning to seep through my underwear.

Sam shifted his position, giving himself a better angle to watch his brother tease me. “All right. Go ahead.”

Dean finally slipped his calloused hand under my panties, dragging his finger just along my slit.

“Christ, she’s fucking soaked.” He sunk into my entrance, pumping a few times before tracing my folds and circling my clit. I gripped his knee hard, letting out a moan.

“I want to see it,” Sam ordered, rising from the couch and seating himself on the cocktail table directly in front of Dean and me. “Get those panties off of her and give them to me. Then Y/N, spread those legs nice and wide so I can watch Dean play with you.”

I raised my hips as Dean pulled my underwear off of me, sliding them over my feet and tossing them to his brother. Sam caught them, feeling the damp material between his fingers as Dean slipped and crooked two fingers inside me, the heel of his hand pressing against my clit, my hips rocking hard against his hand. A sudden rush of heat coursed through me, quickly igniting into a whirling blaze.

“Wow Y/N, you are excited,” Sam marveled, raising my panties to his face and taking a deep breath. “And you smell absolutely amazing...we’ll definitely have to get a taste. How does she feel?

“Fuckin’ perfect. So warm and wet...nice and tight...this sweet little pussy’s gonna take our cocks so good…”

The way they were using me and the things they were saying, the audible heaviness of Sam's breathing and Dean's touch, and the simple fact that this was actually happening crashed over me like a rogue wave.

“Dean, fuck!” I yelped, my orgasm surging through me without warning, my walls pulsing around Dean’s fingers as I slammed against his hand harder.

He worked me through it, his head nuzzled against my neck until I relaxed, closing my eyes as I caught my breath.

“Uh oh,” he chuckled.

I let my eyes flutter open to see Sam's boring into mine, his lips pursed and jaw set firm, fingers tapping against the tabletop.

“Needy little whore, coming so fast...I'll let it go just this once, since you didn't give me time to tell you the last rule.” Sam leaned forward, cupping my chin in his hand. “You tell us if you're about to come, and you ask for permission to come. You do not come unless I say you can. Even if it's Dean's fingers, tongue or cock inside you, you ask me. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes, Sir. I’m sorry Sir.”

“Don’t let it happen again. Now give him a kiss and thank him for getting you off.”

Dean reached for me and pulled me into his lap so I was straddling him. He didn’t give me time to open my mouth for anything other than the bruising kiss he delivered. Finally, finally feeling his tongue slide against mine was glorious - from the way he tasted to the way he cradled my head in his hand, how the other splayed against the small of my back, pressing me closer into him. I all but disappeared into the kiss, coherent thought an impossibility, grinding against his hard, covered cock. Dean released my lips and kissed down my jawline, under my chin, making his way to my collarbone. Flushed and panting, I tilted my head back to give his soft, perfect lips better access.

I was snapped back into reality when I felt a hot, hard smack on my ass. Then both of Sam’s large hands curled over my shoulders.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he rumbled.

“Thank you, Dean,” I uttered, unable to stop myself from sliding along his hard length. “Thank you for making me come.”

Dean flashed a wolfish smile. “There’s our good girl. Did you like it, sweetheart? Me making you come while Sam watched?”

Sparks of arousal were igniting through me as I continued to rock against him. “Yes, Dean.”

He replied with a grunt, jerking his hips upwards, watching my bare pussy drag against him. “Feel how fucking hard I am for you, Y/N? Oh, just wait till I get this inside you...”

“Enough,” Sam said. “We’re moving this to your room. Dean, get that bra off of her first.”

His thick fingers made quick work of unhooking the clasps and removing the white cotton from my body. In a flash, I was lifted off the couch, saddled in Dean’s arms as he followed his brother to my room. Sam stood on one side of the bed, shrugging off his suit jacket and unraveling his tie. Dean stood with me opposite him, shooting his brother a look.

“Middle of the bed,” Sam directed.

Dean set me down gently, making sure my head was propped up on the pillows before getting to work on removing his own coat and tie. Sam was unbuttoning his shirt, strolling over to the foot of the bed while his eyes raked over my naked body.

“Knees up, legs open, Y/N,” Sam commanded, completely removing his shirt. “My turn to play with that pretty pussy.”

Despite how weak they felt, I managed to lift my knees. Keeping my feet flat against the mattress, I widened the space between them as much as I could.

Anyone outside looking in may have thought I was being demeaned, objectified, employed as nothing but a sexual plaything for two men to take advantage of. But I knew it meant I truly held the authority. By doing everything they wanted, they gave me everything I needed. I wasn’t being degraded, I was being worshipped.

And I loved every single, sinful second of it.

A shaky sigh floated from my throat as I watched a shirtless Sam Winchester begin to unfasten his belt. Even the slight flex of his muscles as he made his minimal movements set my every nerve ending afire. I kneaded one of my breasts, pinching my nipple as he pulled his belt off, feeling a flood of wetness gather in my core.

Sam shook his head, folding his belt in half, the buckle clinking. “Y/N, there's no need to touch yourself. That's what we're here for, isn't it Dean?”

“Got that right,” Dean muttered, sliding next to me. He was already undressed, his thick hard cock pressing against my hip.

Sam tapped the length of leather against his palm. “Unless you're an impatient little slut who can't get enough from the two of us?”

I let my hand fall to the side, brushing right against Dean’s erection. “No, Sir.”

“There’s our girl,” Dean murmured, replacing my hand with his, rolling the stiff, pink peak of my nipple between his thumb and finger. “We’ve got you.”

His words were muffled as he took my neglected breast into his mouth, every stroke of his tongue and little nip from his teeth pumping jolts of electricity through every vein in my body. He rocked against me, the warm precome dripping from his cock slicking my skin. I took hold of him, feeling him pulse in my hand as I stroked him slowly, drawing out quiet growls that vibrated against my breast.

The bed sank as Sam crawled on, kneeling, each of his hands running over my thighs. I let out a groan as I felt my own wetness trickle between my legs.

“Just came not five minutes ago and she’s dripping wet already,” Sam hummed. “I think we have our work cut out for us, Dean.” My grip on Dean’s cock tightened as Sam licked, kissed and nipped at the skin of my inner thighs, deliberately avoiding my aching, sodden core. I writhed against the mattress, my clit throbbing, begging for attention as small, desperate sounds tumbled from my lips.

I nearly screamed when Sam finally dipped his tongue inside of me, lapping up my juices at a maddeningly slow pace. The fingers of my free hand laced through his long hair, gripping the back of his head and pushing him against me.

“Oh, fuck, Sam, yes!” I shouted, not giving a shit if the entire hotel heard me.

Sam firmly wrapped his long fingers around my wrist and pulled away.

Dean released my breast from his mouth and turned my face toward his. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N…” he chided, low and wickedly. “You were being so good, why’d you gotta go and misbehave?”

“Dean, move. Now.” Sam commanded. This time he grasped broth of my wrists, sliding up my body until his nose was touching mine. “What did I tell you, princess? What did I say you call me?”

“Sir. I’m sorry Sir, please…” I whined, nearly languishing from the loss of Dean’s skin against mine, my body wound so tight and desperate for release that it was nearly painful. “Need you both so fucking bad…”

I was flipped over onto my stomach so fast the room spun. Sam delivered a firm slap to each cheek of my ass, the sting making my insides quiver as I let out a wanton wail.

“Do you like this, Y/N?” Sam growled, “because this is what happens to bad, greedy little whores when they forget the rules.”

“Yes, Sir...yes…” I mewled. Two more smacks and I bit my lip hard, afraid I might come any second.

“I don’t think you can control yourself. Your sweet little ass loves to be spanked, so you’ll probably keep misbehaving on purpose. Maybe tying those hands up will help you remember to be our good girl?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Dean?”

“Got it.” Dean was grinning as he clutched one of their discarded ties. “Hands above your head, sweetheart. Better do it quick, Sammy’s got an itchy palm tonight - and he’s being gentle.”

He wrapped the sleek, cool silk around my wrists as Sam gently rubbed over my flesh that burned with the sweet bite of his strikes. Dean finished binding me with a durable knot, then grasped my shoulders right as Sam gripped my waist, both of them manhandling me into their desired position. I was laying across the bed now, Sam at my feet and Dean looming above me.

“Turn over, Y/N,” Sam ordered. I obeyed enthusiastically, rolling my body and instinctively spreading my legs. “She looks adorable like this, doesn’t she?”

“Good enough to eat,” Dean smirked, curling his thick tongue over his bottom lip.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get your chance. I’m not done with her yet.”

Dean leaned over me, looping my arms over his head and brushing his upside-down lips against mine. “Such a fucking good girl for us,” he muttered, his voice deep and sabulous. He cupped both breasts in his hands, keeping his mouth a breath away from mine, breathing in my moans and sighs as Sam’s tongue licked a solid line from my entrance and flitted against my clit.

“Christ, you taste amazing, Y/N,” Sam praised. “So fucking sweet…” His lips latched on to my clit as he easily slid two of his thick yet agile fingers inside my cunt, prodding and exploring the deepest parts of me until my entire body jolted in pleasure.

“Oh fuck yes,” I groaned, fire beginning to churn in my abdomen from the vibration of Sam’s satisfied moans against my folds, from every brush of his fingers against my g-spot.

“Sammy find your sweet spot, baby girl?” Dean asked, tugging each of my nipples. “How’s it feel?”

“God, feels so fucking good...”

“You like how my brother plays with you? Bosses you around like a little fucktoy?”

“Love it, Dean…”

The tension was gathering too quickly, raw bliss surging through me, my legs beginning to tremble.

“Do you have any idea how long we’ve wanted this, Y/N? Wanted to kiss you, touch you, take care of you the way you should be?”

The waves of my climax were swelling, threatening to crest at the next word Dean uttered or the next flick of Sam’s tongue.

“Need to come...Sir, can I come for you?”

The warmth of Sam’s mouth left me as his movements slowed to just short of a stop.

“Look who’s being such a good girl now,” he grinned, his lips and chin glazed with my juices.

“Please, Sir…” I begged, knowing I sounded strung-out and pathetic, my body tensing with every ounce of self-control I had left.

“What do you think, Dean? Should we let her?”

“Fuck yeah, wanna see her pretty legs shaking, see her face this time when she comes…”

“And I want her to lose it with her mouth full...”

Dean stood up, tapping the tip of his cock against my lips, my tongue involuntarily snaking out to lick at the salty precome that dribbled out of his slit.

Sam’s fingers began to pick up momentum. “Since you won’t be able to talk, I’ll tell you now - you can come when you need to. You have my permission.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Dean traced the tip of his finger along my jawline. “Go ahead and take it, sweetheart.”

He was like velvet-wrapped iron, smooth and heavy against my tongue, stretching my lips with his girth. With my hands still tied, all he could do was fuck my mouth, sliding in until he hit the back of my throat. I let my tongue swirl around him as he pumped in and out, constantly moaning at the taste and feel and scent of him while Sam worked between my legs.

Dean held my head as he guided me along his cock, rewarding me with praises whenever I took him deep.

“Fuck Y/N you’re a pro at this...if your pussy’s even half as good as your mouth…”

Sam slid in a third finger, beginning a steady, salacious attack on my g-spot. Almost instantly, I felt my walls tightening, the weight of an intense pressure threatening to shatter me from the inside out.

“Dean, she’s close. Play with her clit for me. Y/N, you keep his dick in your mouth like a good little whore.”

I screamed around Dean’s cock as the pad of his fingers pressed and circled my clit, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes as a euphoria I’d never known overtook me.

Somewhere underneath Dean’s heavy breaths and the sound of his brother’s fingers slamming into my sodden cunt I heard Sam’s insistent coaxes.

“That’s our good girl...come on, Y/N, that’s it...let it go…”

Sobbing around Dean I exploded, feeling my slick splash against Sam’s hand, soaking my thighs and the sheets beneath me. Dean pulled out of my mouth with a harsh grunt, leaving my lips free to weave a litany of incoherent curses as I rode out my high. Sam kept working, drawing out my orgasm so long it felt like it was never going to stop. He slowed his movements as I finally drifted down, sliding his fingers out of me and into his mouth.

“Dean, come clean her up. She’s fucking delicious,” he beamed, laying down next to me and pulling me into a fervent kiss; it was thorough and passionate, all-consuming, brimming with purpose. I could taste myself, mingling with cinnamon-laced flavor of his tongue.

“Thank you, Sir,” I whispered between kisses, still shuddering with aftershocks, tingles crawling up my spine from the feel of Dean’s mouth lapping up the remnants of the best orgasm of my life. My eyes fell shut as I basked in Sam’s warmth radiating beside me and the tickle of his brother’s stubble brushing against my inner thighs.

“No sleeping, Y/N,” Sam murmured against my ear. “We’re not done yet.”

Dean hooked his arms under my thighs and plunged his tongue deep inside with a hungry moan.

“Not sleeping, Sir…” I panted, my breaths becoming quicker. “I...I... oh, fuck…” Dean was sending me on a direct trajectory towards another orgasm I didn’t think I could physically handle.

“What do you want, Y/N? Tell us.”

“Want Dean to fuck me, Sir. Want his cock in my pussy and yours in my mouth.”

“I think that can be arranged,” he hummed, tracing my ear with the tip of his nose. “Would you like me to untie your hands now?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Sam rose to his feet, nimble fingers loosening the knot around my wrist.

“I still expect you to behave…”

“I will, Sir, I promise.”

“Good girl. Dean? Wanna give her what she needs?”

Dean kissed his way over my mound, up my stomach and sternum, landing on my lips for only a quick second. He knelt between my legs, grasping himself in his hand and rubbing the head of his cock teasingly between my folds.

“You want this, baby girl?” he taunted, pressing the tip right against my entrance.

“Yes, Dean. God yes, please...need you inside me…”

“Need you too, Y/N,” he sighed, steadying himself as he pushed into me inch by inch, my walls stretching and pulsing as I took him all the way in. He hissed in pleasure once he was buried to the hilt and began to move, dragging almost all the way out before sliding back in again.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart... feel so goddamn good...”

Sam was on his knees next to me, pumping himself, ready to feed me his perfect cock.

“Sir, please let me taste you,” I said, wrapping my fingers around him and guiding him into my mouth. He was as thick and long and luscious as his brother and I greedily took in everything he had.

“Oh my god, Y/N... shit yes…” he moaned as I swallowed around him, flicking and sliding my tongue. Dean grabbed my leg and raised it against his chest, affording a new angle that allowed him to nail my sweet spot with every thrust.

“Fuck...still so tight and wet…” he grunted, his thrusts gaining momentum and force. “Not gonna last long.”

“Hear that, Y/N? Want Dean to fill you up and come inside that beautiful pussy?”

I released him from my mouth, still stroking him in my hand, my breaths coming quick and hard. “Yes, Sir...Dean, please, yes…” A cry escaped my lips as Dean’s thumb found my clit again, making my insides quake, another climax taking hold of me. “N-n-need to come again...Can I come, Sir?”

“You love all of this dick in you, don’t you?” Sam sneered. “Go ahead, little cockslut, but you let him come first. And then, I’m going come in this pretty mouth of yours and you’re going to swallow every drop. Understood?”

Sam didn’t give me time to answer as he pushed past my lips again, his rhythm as fierce and insistent as Dean’s had become.

“Fuck, Y/N…” Dean growled. “Gonna come...gonna fucking come…”

Dean spilled into me with a shout, the wet, thick warmth triggering my own release, the vibration of my muffled scream pushing Sam to his own end. He grabbed my head in hands as he let out a carnal roar, hot spurts of his come filling my mouth. Dean collapsed on top of me, his brother following suit but landing by my side as soon as I drank down everything he’d given me.

Dean rolled off and settled on my other side, the three of us in a sweaty, sticky tangle of weakened limbs and rapid breaths. Eventually, Sam hauled himself up and walked to the bathroom. I turned my head toward Dean, kissing him softly as we simply stared at one another, lost in the moment, the corners of our mouths curving in sleepy, gentle smiles while we traced nonsense patterns over each other’s skin.

Sam emerged with two warm washcloths, handing one to his brother. Then he kissed me tenderly, while both brothers cleaned me and themselves up as best they could. His sweet, gentle demeanor was back, his eyes now full of what I could only dare to call love.

“Did you...was that okay, Y/N?” he asked.

I giggled, lacing my fingers through his and Dean’s hands, “It was more than okay. It was fucking mind-blowing.”

Sam let out what seemed like a breath of relief, pulling me against his chest. I nestled into that curve I knew I’d fit so well in, while Dean pressed into my front. “Glad we could deliver, sweetheart.”

“Hey guys, listen... I hate to go all chick-flick on you, but -”

“You’re wondering what happens now,” Sam offered, reading my mind. “If this was just a onetime thing.”

I nodded, slightly afraid of the response I was going to get.

“Y/N,” Dean started, “When I said you had no idea how long me and Sam wanted this...I wasn’t lying. We’ve both been in love with you since the day we saved your sexy ass.”

“This life is hard,” Sam added. “It’s dangerous and bloody and we never know if the day we wake up is going to be our last. We never thought you’d go for it, but maybe it could work...I mean if you feel the same…we’d love it if you were ours.”

“Well, son of a bitch,” I laughed.

“What?” both brothers asked in unison.

“My first time to Vegas and I hit the fucking jackpot.”

~Fin

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