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epicbasher65685 · 4 years

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(Soo yeah a few people wanted to read this so here it is. sorry I can’t write for anything but I tried my hardest to get my head cannon across)

TW: descriptions of blood and gore, abuse

“What a fantastic song! No one could ever go wrong with the brilliant song “Let’s Misbehave” by none other than the darb Cole Porter!” Alastor exclaimed excitedly with his powerful transatlantic accent into the microphone. “Truly a marvelous performance. Anywho! The bayou killer strikes again! That’s right folks you heard it here first! The bayou killer claims their 11th victim! Oh the tragedy! There seems to be a pattern in this killer’s cycle. The moon cycle! Who would’ve guessed? And who will be the twelfth on the full moon? What kind of monster from hell could possibly cause this much pain and torture to both the victims and their families?” He questioned the listeners. His smile grew bigger at his sarcastic yet genuine sounding empathy. Deep within him he knew there was none. If he tried to look any deeper in himself the only thing we would find would be the rumbling of his stomach and it’s almost snickering like sounds, laughing mischievously and knowingly at his sarcastic line of questioning. Alastor reached over and closed the report he was reading from with a resounding thud, a look of accomplishment graced his face. The listeners were shocked with the news, seeing that the killer is still at large and could pounce on them or their loved ones at any moment. “Lock your doors and stay safe ladies and gentlemen! This concludes tonight’s broadcast. Oh oh! Almost forgot the regularly scheduled joke! Just to lighten the mood a bit. What happened when the cannibal was late for dinner? He got the cold shoulder! Ahahahahaha! See you tomorrow folks, stay safe!” He said brightly as he ended his radio broadcast, turning off his equipment and microphone.

The streets were full of Ebullience and joyful spirit. The year was 1933. New Orleans, Louisiana was really quite a marvelous and interesting place to live. Alastor McCarthy walked down the sidewalk in his clean white shirt and suspenders, shoes polished so thoroughly you can see the bright sun and the blue sky reflecting off of it! All the Cadillacs and Buicks cruised down the smoothly paved road. Almost everyone in this town knew Alastor. And Alastor knew almost everyone just as well. The lovely people waved as they saw him walk by, and he of course would wave back with a friendly smile on his face. He was always smiling! One happy fellow indeed, everyone would imagine. He walked down the sidewalk with a pep in his step softly humming to the bustling jazz that played from the gramophones in the nearby shops. He was making his way home now, it was almost supper and he needed to help his mother prepare it! Oh yes, Alastor loved his mother dearly, she was a true light in his life. People like to tease him sometimes and call him somewhat of a mama's boy. He would be lying if he protested this though. He truly loved his mother. His father, however, he did not. Just the thought of him made Alastors smile falter, just a smidge. He was a real goof, and a drunk. Alastor despised him, but only put up with him because his mother still loved him. Alastor could never see what an amazing woman like herself could ever find in a hunk of junk like him.

The noise of the streets died down as he started to approach his neighborhood. The walk from the radio station to his house was only a 30 minute or so walk. He figured it was good exercise and also an efficient way to build up his appetite. When Alastor wasn’t doing his radio broadcasts, he would find himself hunting deer in the nearby bayou. His father showed him how to hunt when he was a young boy. He had mastered the art of hunting and butchering the creatures he captured. Whether it be deer, rabbit, boar… human. His mother taught him the culinary arts, which he soon too mastered. He would help his mother prepare jambalaya, his favorite dish, when he was younger. He reminisced about those good ol’ days. Well, most of it at least. He had finally arrived home.

“Hello mother! Father.” He called out into the calm house. He took his shoes off and saw his mother appear from the kitchen.

“Oh! Alastor, how I’ve missed you dear.” She said lovingly as she ran toward Alastor to hug him. “How was your day? Anything exciting happening down in that ol’ radio station? I completely forgot to tune in today. Silly me. Apologies!”

“No need mother, it was just business as usual, quite copacetic! We had our top music hits and, well, a quite shocking report on the bayou killer.” Alastor explained

“Oh? Was he murdered? Oh oh! Caught by the fuzz? Hot dawg!” She exclaimed in excitement.

“...No mother, he was not. Always jumping to conclusions! Ahahaha. My, that’s just like you!” He said. Her words pained him only in the slightest. She obviously disliked this killer. Yet she unknowingly loved this said killer more than anyone else. He felt a sick giddy because of this. Why, he found it quite humorous! How twisted. “He’s claimed his 11th victim, unfortunately.” He said with a softer voice.

“Oh dear… how horrible. I can’t believe he’s getting away with this! Someone has to stop him eventually.” She said with sadness in her eyes. Alastor didn’t like to see her like this, not ever!

“Yes I know, quite the tragedy I’m sure. I heard he was a rude man however, a real dewdropper as some may say! The man had nothing going for him anyways.” He explained, or rather explained himself, for that matter.

“Darlene, when the hell is that dinner going to be finished?” Gus, Alastors father, yelled from the living room couch. He had just finished his twelfth beer of the day. Alastor could hear the subtle clinks of the glass bottle against the cup holder. Indicating that yes, he had indeed gotten drunk again.

“It’ll be ready in about half an hour dear!” She yelled back, Completely forgetting about the news of the bayou killer. An audible groan sounded from the living room in response.

“Alastor, would you be a dear and help me peel the potatoes for dinner?” She questioned

“Of course mother! Let’s get started then shall we?” Alastor asked joyfully.

Once dinner was prepared and the table was set, Alastor’s mother called for Gus to come and eat. Another audible groan sounded from the living room as Gus managed to stand up, very blotto from all his drinks. Without anyone seeing, Alastor was quick to drop a pill into Gus’s drink at the table. He then turned away and started to whistle an innocent jazz tune.

“Oh, Alastor, I almost forgot about the pie in the oven. Would you mind taking it out for me and cutting it’s pieces?” She asked him kindly. Alastor responded with a quick ‘yep!’ and put on the oven mitts. He took the pie out and put it on the stove. He took his mitts off and placed them back on the counter, only to replace them with a knife. Without hesitation he stuck the knife into the steaming pie. It smelt like delicious baked cherries. The pie oozed red juice and covered the knife. He continued to cut even slices into the beautiful pie. He stared longingly at his work, admiring the precise cuts and the knife dripping red juice. He licked the knife clean and saw his father's reflection walking into the room when he looked at the knife. He stared for a moment, then put the knife into the sink. Gus finally arrived at the table as everyone sat down.

“So what do we have here?” Gus questioned as he occasionally hiccuped. He had messy black hair and his eyes were half lidded. He wore a black vest with his tie sloppily tied.

“Well I made venison, mashed potatoes, and beans for tonight. That damn venison was quite tricky to cook, but hopefully I got it just right.” She explained

“I’m sure it turned out great, mother.” He smiled at her. Alastor eyed his father as he sat down. Gus started digging in with the slightest amount of politeness. Hungrily shoving the food into his mouth. Alastor sighed and picked up his utensils to start eating.

“What is it boy? You’ve got something to say?” He snapped at Alastor. Glaring at him with whatever amount of sobriety he had left.

“No, sir.” Alastor responded while staring at his plate. He hated this. He hated his father and he hated how he treated both him and his mother. Not to mention how rude he was. All of the bayou killers victims reminded him of his father. What a coincidence huh? No, he chose them very carefully, and he planned out every bit of it. Every time he killed them he imagined as though the person was truly his father. It gave him satisfaction and it quenched his thirst, for the time being. But this thirst would always reappear. He could never get rid of it through these involuntary murders of his, and he knew this. He knew it would only be a matter of time before… he would claim his final victim. That’s all Alastor thought about when he looked his father in the eyes. The twelfth. The twelfth. The twelfth. The second full moon. It will complete his design.

“Whatever,” He sneered at Alastor. Gus downed his drink in a few gulps. Alastor watched with a smile. Then Gus began to cut into the venison, and suddenly there was an irritated look on his face. “This venison is overcooked.” He started while he looked up at Darlene.

“Oh, yes I was afraid that might happen…” Darlene quietly said with a look of disappointment appearing on her face.

“Isn’t that just perfect? Maybe you should learn how to cook properly instead of having a gay ol’ time dancing swing like a flapper at the club down the road. Dumb-Dora can’t do anything right can you? Darlene was taken back by his sudden outburst. She apologized and told him it wouldn’t happen again with a tinge of fear spreading on her face and tears threatening to breach her eyes.

“Well, actually, I do have something to say,” Alastor said as he interrupted his mother’s apologies. “Maybe if you stopped getting bent everyday like a normal person, maybe people might actually like you! You’re such a flat tire and a real boozehound. You think it’s ok to treat us like this? For crying out loud you’ve been doing this for years! You just futz around and do whatever you want, when you want, and how you want!” Alastor exclaimed loudly at his father while eyeing him with a scornful look. He wasn’t going to let him talk to his mother that way, no sir! Enough was enough. Darlene looked at Alastor in shock. She really can’t believe he said that to him. A wave of panic hits her knowing what’s going to come next.

“Why, you little! How dare you talk to me like that? I come home after a long day and this is what I get? A cheap meal and a disrespectful family?” Gus’s voice grew louder and louder with every word he spoke. He pointed to Alastor. “You… I’ll wipe that stupid smile off your face permanently!” Gus stood up and walked over to Alastors side of the table. Alastor and Darlene stood up quickly, knowing this situation is about to become physical.

“Don’t you dare touch him!” Darlene shouted as she grabbed hold of Alastors arm. Alastor backed up while the adrenaline started coursing through his veins. Gus took hold of Darlene and threw her against the counter. She fell on the way down with a yelp hitting her head on the edge of the counter. Darlene’s vision started to blur and soon after she drifted into unconsciousness as she heard the faint yelling of Alastor.

“You absolute madman! Now look what you’ve done. You’re some real tough guy hm? Well, I’m sure you’ll enjoy my next show, you’re the super important participant, after all!” Alastor said with a growing smile. His creole accent slipping out for only a moment as he yelled. “Aren’t you excited?”

“What are you… talking about..?” Gus talked as his words became sloppy and quiet. The once calming and peaceful kitchen warping and turning in place as his vision grew cloudy and dark. His eyes lidded fully, the last thing he saw before he fell to the ground was Alastors prideful smile. Alastor thought Gus would pull something like this. All this commotion, that is. Yet it was in the back of his mind as was planning out his demise. He stared at Gus for a good while, lying there helplessly. Although this isn’t exactly how he planned it out, he was still ultimately satisfied with the outcome. That is, until he remembered his mother lying on the ground. Her nicely combed and silky brunette hair in a bun was now frizzing out everywhere, the bun loosened from the altercation. Her lids shielding her innocent blue eyes to what has become of her husband, and the truth of her faithful son. Alastor slowly picked her up and placed her on the couch. He took an ice pack from the kitchen and placed it on the noticeable bump on her forehead.

“Do wake up soon, won’t you?” He whispered to her. He kissed her forehead and made his way into the kitchen. He managed to pick his father up with a few strained breathes, grabbed the knife out of the sink, and walked out the backdoor.

It was about 8pm now, and the sun had already cast its final flare. Only to replace it, was a thoughtless moon. Alastor navigated his way throughout his backyard and soon into the bayou unseen. Gus remained unconscious and hung over Alastors shoulder. Once Alastor traversed deep enough into the bayou. He tied Gus up to an old bald cypress tree. It’s leaves spaced out enough to let the moonlight fall and flicker between them. A few moments later, Gus finally awoke to a conscious state. Confused and dazed to where he was, and how he got there.

“Hello lucky contestant! Welcome to my show!” Alastor exclaimed in a cheerful announcer voice.

“Al? Where.. where the hell am I?” He said in a choked voice. He tried to move his arms, but they were restrained by a tightly tied rope. “What the hell are you doing?” He said as his voice wavering. Alastor took out his knife and walked slowly up to Gus. Gus watched every little movement Alastor made, his adrenaline rising with each step.

“Oh you poor thing. Haven’t you realized what’s happening by now?” Alastor teased as he lunged playfully forward, causing Gus to gasp and defensively lean back in the tree. ‘How pathetic’ Alastor thought to himself. “What? Don’t tell me your giving me the cold shoulder! Ahahahahahaha!” Alastor laughed at his silly little inside joke. He lowered himself to Gus’s level on the ground and pointed the knife at his chest. “Boy that thing must be pounding! I think I’ll eat your heart first!” Alastor exclaimed once again. Gus’s face was pale with fear as the knife slowly etched its way inside of his chest, blood soaking his already stained shirt. He screamed in excruciating pain as Alastor carved all the way down to his waistline. Exposing his organs and blood to the everlasting moonlight. Gus writhed in pain as he looked Alastor in the eyes.

“Y-you…killed them?” Gus managed to choke out. Disbelief filled his eyes.

“Hmm? Oh! That’s correct!” Alastor said while he backed up, admiring his work. Alastor looked down at his hands and his cuffed sleeves. The blood dripping off of his hands was much more black then the usual dark red.

“My! The mother was right! Blood really does look black in the moonlight,” He said. His smile unwavering and as prominent as always. That was the last thing Gus saw as his vision started to melt away for the last time. Alastor kneeled beside Gus and pulled out his heart behind his rib cage. He took a big bite from it without hesitation, just like how one would eat an apple. He noted that it tasted almost the same as a deers.

Soon after, a sudden rush of panic struck Alastor as he heard a males voice calling close by. He quickly turned toward the sound and saw multiple men in the distance holding flashlights pointing in Alastors direction. He hopped to his feet in a frenzy and ran deeper into the bayou. It was dark and he could barely see where he was running, but all he knew was that he needed to get away. It was only a matter of time the cops had found him. The pattern was quite obvious, Alastor knew. Yet, he thought it was orderly and scheduled, and that was something he’s always taken to heart. As he was running, he recalled his fondest memories and previous murders as the cops chased him on his tail. He knew this was it for him, unless he could throw them off somehow. Quickly, he noticed out of the corner of his eye a figure. It was a lone deer. It looked him in the eye without movement. The deer eyed him knowingly. The full moon shining between its broad antlers.

Suddenly, the night and day remembered how they came to be. Alastor glared back at this deer, his smile wavering as he was shot dead in the forehead with a rifle. He fell to the ground as his smile fell completely. A hunter had missed the deer, accidentally shooting Alastor killing him instantly. Surely it was too dark for the hunter to have seen him. There was no hope for him. Then, the deer quickly ran off into the deep bayou startled from the shadow of nobody there.

#um chile anyways so #alastor #hazbin hotel #heres my poorly written head cannon #fanfic #human alastor

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pikapeppa · 4 years

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Felassan/f!Lavellan: Questions

Chapter 12 of The Love That Grows From Violence (Felassan x Tamaris Lavellan) is posted!

As the title implies, in which I dip my toe into lore. Just one toe, though. 😭

~4060 words; read on AO3 instead.

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Over the course of the next few days, Tamaris and Felassan settled back into their routine of mana retraining, overhauling the house, smoking on the roof and eating the delicious food that Felassan prepared for them both. They played cards together and chatted idly about their lives, and they kept ripping on each other for fun just as they had done before.

There was one very significant difference, however: Tamaris felt much more at ease now that she’s spoken more openly to Felassan about her relationship with Solas. She wasn’t thrilled that he’d witnessed her falling apart like she had, but the benefit of no longer feeling guilty or wary or just plain fucking uncomfortable was so much of a relief that she almost wished they’d talked about it earlier.

That wasn’t to say her emotional landscape was by any means perfectly repaired. Explaining her qualms to Felassan was only the first step to getting her mind around the wound of mistrust that Solas had unwittingly left behind. But for the first time since Solas’s departure, Tamaris was starting to believe that the wound might actually heal. She still felt uneasy at times when Felassan touched her tenderly or when his soft gaze lingered on her for too long, but mild unease was better than panic.

Felassan occasionally asked more questions about her relationship with Solas, and although her immediate response was to put up a wall and block him out, she forced herself to reply. She would never have imagined that talking candidly about her ex-lover with her current lover would be helpful instead of terribly awkward, but the truth was that it really seemed to help. In fact, as the days went by, Tamaris started to feel the way that Cole had described easing people’s pain: like something tangled inside of her had been loosened and was slowly being smoothed out with every day she spent in Felassan’s company.

With Tamaris’s greater comfort came another very enjoyable consequence: she and Felassan spent considerably more time indulging in their sexual appetites, which were just as great as their appetites for the scrumptious food that Felassan made. By the fourth day after their talk, however, they still hadn’t had sex again yet, or even done anything more than kiss and touch as much as they could through the barriers of their clothing. Their mana-training sessions now ended every time in a torrid clinch that left both of them breathless, and Felassan joked that the promise of Tamaris’s lips was the main driving force for his magical progress. They continued to sleep in their separate bedrooms, but Felassan kissed her every night before they retired to their rooms — that is, if ‘a kiss’ was what one could call it when Felassan pinned her against her bedroom door and ground himself into the cradle of her hips while she hungrily licked his tongue. Every night when he stepped away from her, she would stare at the blazing glow of his eyes and the rise and fall of his collarbones as he panted for breath, and an invitation for him to join her in her bed crept closer and closer to the tip of her tongue.

But she kept the words to herself, and Felassan didn’t push. And so they continued to fall together into increasingly ravenous embraces as the days went on, embraces which always ended in them breaking apart and grinning stupidly at each other while they tried to breathe through the lust that was swelling over them with all the delicious weight of a summer thunderhead.

Tamaris wasn’t sure what exactly had made them both decide not to push their physical relationship back into sex just yet. They hadn’t explicitly talked about waiting, yet both she and Felassan would stop themselves when her grinding against his lap got right to the point where one or both of them was nearly ready to burst, or when his fingers started playing over the laces of her bra or her breeches. Maybe Felassan could sense that she wanted to hold off for a bit before launching back into the sex that they both so clearly wanted. Or maybe Tamaris could see that he was trying to gain more control over his urges. Either way, the tension between them continued to grow — in a delicious, mutual way that was not at all like the demon that Felassan had so colourfully described — and it wasn’t long before Tamaris became convinced that what was really happening was an unspoken game of who-gives-in-first. Was Tamaris going to give in and tell Felassan to fuck her again? Or was Felassan going to be the one to turn those delicious pleasured moans of his into an actual plea for her to join him in his room?

Neither of them could say, and neither of them was ready to cave. And yet, without speaking about it, Tamaris knew without a doubt that Felassan was enjoying – and cursing – the torturous pleasure of their fully-clothed trysts as much as she was.

Aside from their more physical pursuits, a more intellectual one also came back into play; Felassan started reading This Shit Is Weird with more focus, as he seemed determined to get to the part of the book that mentioned the Inquisition’s encounter with the Titan. When he finished reading about their ordeal at Adamant Fortress and their tumble into the Fade, however, the resulting discussion took most of an afternoon.

Felassan wanted to hear as much from Tamaris’s perspective about what had happened and how Solas reacted. When Tamaris explained how the Nightmare had tried to unnerve everyone by picking away at their greatest fears, Felassan raised his eyebrows.

“I don’t suppose you remember what this Nightmare demon said to Fen’Harel?” he asked.

“It was something in Elvhen, so I don’t really know,” she said. “It said it knew him, though, which I just chalked up to Solas making weird friends in the Fade. But Solas did also say he’d never been to that sector of the Fade before…” She rubbed her forehead. “Fuck, I wish I remembered.”

“Shame,” Felassan said. “I would have liked to know what a demon would use against him to unnerve him during the time that he was with you.”

“I can tell you the three main things that unnerved him,” Tamaris said dryly. “Killing archdemons, Morrigan getting stuff wrong at the Temple of Mythal, and tea.”

Felassan’s face went slack with surprise. Then he barked out a laugh. “I may fall over from that onslaught. Morrigan — she was with the Inquisition? You were at the Temple of Mythal?”

“Yeah, we — oh, you haven’t gotten to the Halamshiral part of the book yet,” she said. “Morrigan joined the Inquisition after the whole shitshow at Halamshiral. Solas was less than thrilled with her, especially when we got to the Temple of Mythal. They were like cats and dogs.”

Felassan stared at her, then snorted a laugh. “You were at the Temple of Mythal with–” Another little snort cut him off. “–with Mythal’s alleged daughter and Fen’Harel who was trying to pass as a simple apostate…” He guffawed.

Tamaris couldn’t help but smile. “When you put it that way, it is pretty funny.”

“Funny!” Felassan exclaimed. “It’s the makings of a farce!” Another burst of laughter spilled from his lips. He dragged in a breath and patted his belly. “I can only imagine the steam that must have been coming out of his ears.”

Tamaris chuckled. “Yeah. You should have seen him when that Sentinel guy Abelas came out. He almost lost it.”

Felassan’s face went slack once more. “Abelas? Abelas?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Tamaris said with a roll of her eyes. “Don’t tell me you knew him.”

“Huge tall warrior, gold eyes, white hair, very stern?”

She raised her eyebrows. “He was wearing a hood so I don’t know about the hair, but the rest, yeah.”

A grin lit Felassan’s face, and he let out another rolling belly laugh. “Fen’Harel faced Abelas and lost his composure. He… fenedhis. It’s…” He slapped his palm on the table and continued to laugh. Tears of mirth were leaking from the corners of his eyes now, and his laughter was becoming loud and uncontrolled.

She shifted closer to him. “Hey, take it easy. You need to breathe or you’re going to pass out.” She held out her hand.

He grabbed her hand and dragged in a breath, then let it out in an explosion of hysteria. Tamaris squeezed his hand. “Come on, brat, look at me.”

He chuckled wheezily and met her eyes, and Tamaris smiled at him. “Okay, let’s breathe. Come on.”

He exhaled another chuckle, then breathed in hard through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. “I need to read more of this book,” he said. “I can’t wait to devour that chapter.”

“No kidding,” she said dryly. “Should we go back to talking about the Nightmare then? Save the Solas-bitching-at-Morrigan stories for when that part of the book comes up?”

Felassan nodded and exhaled another slow breath. “Yes, let’s.”

“Okay,” she said. She released his hand. “What did you want to know next?”

“I have a question for you, in fact,” he said. “What did the Nightmare use to unnerve you?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Well, that’s a personal question.”

“Yes, it is,” he said. “ And I believe you still owe me a secret.”

His smirk was mischievous but somehow also soft. Tamaris scoffed. “That’s how it is, huh?”

“It certainly is,” he said pleasantly.

She gave him a chiding look, then sighed. “Fine. It…” She looked down and rubbed at the tiny dent in her prosthetic arm. “It mocked me about breaking promises.”

“Breaking promises?” he asked.

“Promises to… protect people who need help protecting themselves,” she muttered.

Marin being dragged away screaming by the Templars. The memory flashed across her mind, and she looked away from Felassan and shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. The Nightmare’s sealed away, so fuck it.”

“You’re thinking of Marin,” he said quietly.

She clenched her jaw, then forced herself to look him in the eye. “Yes. So what?”

Felassan tilted his head. “She who dances with fire,” he said quietly.

She snorted and looked down at her metal fingers. “For whatever good that does.”

“An entire novel’s worth, at least,” he said. He gestured at This Shit Is Weird. “I’m certainly compelled by the heroine of this novel. I imagine I would throw myself at her feet if ever we were to meet.”

She rolled her eyes at his irreverent tone. “Shut the fuck up.”

He chuckled, then leaned back in his chair and lifted his feet onto the table. “I have to ask: did Fen’Harel comment on the Black City at all?”

“He pointed it out,” she said. “He seemed excited to see it. Well, he was excited about everything, even though we were in a really gross weird part of the Fade.”

Felassan nodded slowly, and Tamaris frowned. “Felassan, tell me something. What is the Black City?”

“What do you think the Black City is?” he asked.

She gave him a flat look. “I’m sure you already know what most Dalish think. It’s where the Creators were trapped by Fen’Harel. I didn’t really have any reason to question that before the Breach happened. But… I don’t know. It’s strange. Corypheus said the Black City was empty and tainted already when he and his evil magister buddies got there, which is counter to the Chantry story about those magisters turning it black and creating the Blight.” She narrowed her eyes. “But here’s the thing. The Black City is in the Fade and only in the Fade, which seems to imply that it’s not a so-called ‘real’ place, right? At least not if things in the Fade are just a reflection of dreamers’ minds or what spirits build from the things they see. But after visiting the Vir Dirthara, knowing that some places could be made from the real world and the Fade, it stands to reason that some places could also be made from just the Fade.” She looked askance at him, and her belly did a pleasant flip; he was smiling broadly at her.

“Go on,” he said.

She took a deep breath. “The Black City is actually Arlathan, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” he said. “What the Chantry calls the Black City is the remains of ancient Arlathan.”

Tamaris’s eyes widened at the confirmation. “Holy fuck. So… so wait. Wait.” A buzz of unreality was starting to raise her pulse. “If the Black City is Arlathan, then it can’t be the kingdom of the Maker if Arlathan is Elvhen and the Maker is Chantry bullshit.”

If possible, his smile grew even wider, and Tamaris’s belly swooped with amazement. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Felassan.”

“Yes, Tamaris?” he said cheerfully.

“There is no Maker, is there?” she breathed.

He casually linked his fingers behind his head. “There isn’t, no. The Maker is a figment of human imagination and nothing more.”

She gaped at him. The sense of vertigo in her head was growing as the enormity of this fact thudded in her ears. The Maker isn’t real. The Maker doesn’t exist. The humans were wrong.

She burst out a laugh. “Oh shit. Oh fuck.” She dragged a hand through her hair. “This is amazing. And horrible. I can’t decide whether to laugh because I fucking knew it, or — I mean, I knew it but I couldn’t prove it.” She laughed again and shook her head. “Can you imagine the fucking mess it’ll make if this becomes common knowledge?”

“It would, wouldn’t it?” Felassan said pleasantly. “The irony is nearly funny, until one remembers that the progeny of our people were crushed under the heels of humans in the name of a being who doesn’t exist.”

Tamaris sobered. “Fuck.”

He smile faded slightly, and he gave her an apologetic look. “I regret to point out as well that you don’t actually have proof that what I’ve said is true. So this is probably not something that you should go running through the streets of Val Royeaux to advertise.”

She wilted. “Ugh. Yeah, you’re right.”

“An unfortunate curse of being so old and clever,” he said complacently. “But you can continue to bask in the satisfaction of being correct, if you like.”

She huffed. “Feels kind of macabre to gloat about it now, but thanks for the offer.”

Felassan nodded graciously, and Tamaris sighed and propped her elbows on the table. “So everyone’s religion is a bunch of incorrect bullshit. We’re all together in that, at least.”

He raised his eyebrows. “That’s an optimistic outlook for you. Sort of.” He smirked. “In a charmingly cynical sort of way.”

“It kind of is, isn’t it?” she said wryly. “How nice to have something all in common. We can all swim in bullshit together.”

He smiled at her without speaking, and she lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

“It’s at moments like this that I can imagine why your followers literally sang your praises,” he said.

She couldn’t quite decide if he was being sarcastic or not, but she rolled her eyes regardless. “And the rest of the time they probably wondered how the fuck they got saddled with such a ham-fisted bitch as a leader, right?”

“No,” Felassan said seriously. “I am certain that the rest of the time, they found you formidable and fearsome.”

Her ears started feeling hot. She looked away from him. “Uh-huh.”

He chuckled and idly waved one of his bare feet. After a brief pause, Tamaris glanced at him thoughtfully. “You don’t have any other questions about our little trip to the Fade, then?”

“Nothing more at this moment,” he said.

She nodded slowly. “I have another question for you, then. Why was Solas so angry about the Grey Wardens trying to seek out the archdemons and kill them? He would never explain that to me. He always just… talked his way around it.”

Felassan’s pleasant expression instantly sobered and sharpened, and her heart skipped a beat in alarm. When he shifted his feet to the floor and turned to face her, her pulse kicked into an anxious trot.

“That is probably the most important question you have asked me,” he said. “And I’ll tell you now if you want — as much as I know, at least, which I regret to admit is actually not everything.” He tapped This Shit Is Weird. “But I would prefer to finish reading this book first.”

“Why?” she said nervously.

“The answer will be easier to explain if I know first what you know.”

She frowned more deeply, and Felassan leaned toward her. “I am not trying to dodge your question, Tamaris. This is not an attempt to deceive you. I will tell you now if that’s what you want.”

He had that look on his face again: the look of ineffable weariness and melancholy that she now associated solely with elves from ancient Elvhenan. Tamaris studied him with a growing writhing of worry in her gut while she mulled over his words, then finally shook her head. “It’s okay. I can wait.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Are you certain?”

A pang of fondness poked at her heart. He was clearly making an active effort not to prevaricate like Solas had always done. “I’m certain,” she assured him. “It’s just… now I’m scared of what you’re going to say.”

He smiled faintly, but somehow the smile only made his face more serious. “When the world looks the way it does, being afraid is the only intelligent response,” he said. “Only fools will tread through these days without caution.”

His words made her gut twist a little more, and she wrinkled her nose. “Well, that’s grim of you. Someone needs to cheer the fuck up.”

His sad little smile warmed to something more genuine and Felassan-like. “Not grim. Just realistic. And that was unusually optimistic of you, for the second time today. Have you been nipping into the deep mushroom without me?”

She huffed in amusement. “No. The felandaris, on the other hand…”

He laughed heartily. “Nice try, but you’d be frothing at the mouth if you were nipping into that without my help.”

“Good to know,” she said. “I’ll keep that in mind for the next time you wake me up at the crack of dawn.”

His smile curled with mischief. “Then I’ll be sure not to drink anything you prepare for me anytime soon.”

She returned his smile, then eyed him speculatively. Something strange had just occurred to her — something that she had just assumed, but had never actually asked him.

He leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the table again. “Ask, avise,” he said warmly. “I can practically see the questions flitting through that lovely ebony-haired head of yours.”

“I was just wondering,” she said. “Do you miss it?”

“Do I miss what?” he asked.

“Arlathan,” she said. “Your time. All of it.”

His smile faded, but this time in a pensive way. He was quiet for a moment, and when he finally spoke again, his tone was somber. “The time when I was born was both more and less than the Dalish could ever imagine,” he said. “Spirits did not just walk alongside us; they were us. Magic infused every structure that we built and every footstep that we walked, potent and tangible as the blood that flows through your veins.” He let out a wistful little laugh. “We had these gardens: beautiful wild gardens bursting with flowers of every size, in shapes and colours that have no words in this language. And yet, despite the beauty, it was rotting from the inside out. The equality and cooperation that the Dalish imagine did not exist. We could be petty and power-hungry and short-sighted. We had great capacity for creativity, and we squandered it on competitions and power struggles like any human nobles from this time.”

“You’ve mentioned this before,” she said gently. “But that’s not what I asked you. Do you miss it?”

His expression blanked with surprise for a brief moment, just the way it did every time she asked him specifically about his feelings or his thoughts. A sudden rush of affection filled her chest, followed by the usual instinctive feeling of vulnerability at how much affection she bore for him already.

She swallowed hard to try and relax. Felassan, meanwhile, was frowning thoughtfully at his feet. “There are things I miss,” he said slowly. “Those gardens I mentioned, for one. The food, for another; some ingredients are just impossible to find in this time. But I think what I miss the most is… knowing who I was. Knowing my purpose, and knowing that everything I did was a step toward that purpose, even if my steps seemed convoluted or indirect. Always intentionally, of course, in keeping with a slow arrow,” he added with a sly little smile.

Tamaris nodded silently. Then Felassan sighed. “If there is anything I truly miss, it is knowing who I was. I was the slow arrow of Fen’Harel. I was the silent strike that they failed to notice until it was too late.” He met her eyes. “I am not sure who I am now.”

“You can still be a slow arrow, if that’s what you want,” she said. “You just need a new target.”

He gazed at her silently for a moment, and Tamaris watched with an increasingly erratic pulse as his pensive frown morphed into something undeniably tender.

He slowly lowered his feet to the floor and leaned toward her, and when his hand rose to carefully cradle her neck, her breath hitched with excitement and just a hint of fear.

He brushed her jawline with his thumb. “I want to kiss you,” he murmured.

She nodded dumbly, and Felassan smiled before lowering his lips to hers. He kissed her carefully, his lips pulling at hers in a series of slow and infinitely gentle kisses that kicked her pulse into a faster beat while also lulling her into a sense of dreamlike contentment. It was a clear contrast from the scorchingly passionate kisses they usually shared, and by the time Felassan pulled away, her heart was pounding her ears and her throat, and she couldn’t quite decide whether it was panic or pleasure or something more tender — and far more terrifying — that was kicking her heart into such a rapid beat.

His smile was so warm and his eyes so meltingly soft, and she wasn’t ready yet to accept everything that they implied. She took a tremulous breath and dropped his gaze. “Felassan, I’m — this is…”

“I know,” he said gently, and he released her neck and leaned back. “But it was a good kiss, wasn’t it?”

She smirked at him despite her nerves. He was such a smug brat. “It was passable,” she said dismissively.

He barked out a laugh. “Passable! You cut me deeply, avise. Fortunately for you, I don’t hold grudges.” Then he stood up and chivalrously offered her his hand. “Come. We have so much wallpaper to strip from the study and so little time to do it.”

She playfully smacked his hand away and rose to her feet, and they continued to tease each other good-naturedly as they made their way to the study. But as Tamaris carefully peeled long strips of ugly gold-striped paper from the walls, she couldn’t help but worry about the question she’d asked Felassan about Solas and the archdemons.

She couldn’t help but wonder how much trouble the answer would bring – not just to the cocoon of peace she and Felassan were building around themselves, but to the entire world at large.

She forced herself to put the worries aside for now. For now, she had a mansion to strip of all its gaudy gold trappings, and she had a handsome companion by her side to strip it with.

And maybe soon, when the time was ripe, some stripping of a more pleasurable kind would happen as well.

#felassan #save felassan #felassan romance #felassan/lavellan #felassan x lavellan #felassan/inquisitor #felassan x inquisitor #the love that grows from violence #pikapeppa writes

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agirlhasnonamehotd · 7 years

Text

Tricks and Treats

Here's some Halloween goodies for all the Mark x MC Lovers out there! I hope you enjoy it.

(Warning, there's sexy time. If that's not your thing, skip the end of the story lol)

“Dani! Hurry up, they’ll be here soon!

Mark calls to you from the den where he impatiently waits for your grand reveal. He’s like a child when it comes to this sort of thing. This year it’s worse because you kept it a secret from him. Even when he offered sexual favors you refused to drop any hints.

You could go out there now; let him have some time to take you in. But…where’s the fun in that? You want to see him squirm; want to see him struggle to keep it together in front of everyone. It’s torture to him. And you love it.

It’s Halloween. A night for tricks and treats. A night to be someone different. Boy, did you choose different. From Muggle to Wizard, this is your favorite costume yet. You proudly wear the colors of House Gryffindor, but it’s safe the say the likes of Hogwarts have never seen a uniform like this. Plunging neckline with a tie down the middle of your cleavage. A Cloak. A skirt that barely covers you (if you drop something tonight there’s no picking it up). Thigh High stockings and heels.

Yeah, Mark won’t stand a chance.

The doorbell rings. Mark sighs and swears before going for the door. You hear a multitude of voices – all of your friends – enter.

“Yo Dani, where you at?!”

Cole. Of course.

“She’s still getting ready,” Mark grumbles.

He thinks he says it quietly, but not quietly enough. He should know by now your sense of hearing is unnaturally sharp. Nevertheless, it’s showtime. You open the bedroom door and step into the hallway. All of your friends are talking excitedly. My, the diversity of the costumes is amusing! Brooke and Keo are Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion. Precious as always. Sereena’s drawn on unibrow and unique floral headpiece give her away immediately: Frida Kahlo. Horatio will be Where’s Waldo for the night and you’re sure it’s because he can still wear a beanie with his costume. Ben, you can tell, has worked tirelessly on perfecting his own Super Hero persona. Then there’s Cole; purple suit, sequined tophat, gold teeth, bedazzled cane, strands of gold chains, and a blow-up date. A pimp. Cole’s a pimp. Nothing shocking there.

None of them come close to Mark. Your own personal Captain America. He wears the costume well – so well it’s turning you on. Tight in all the right places…and man, that ass.

“OH HOLY SHIT”

Cole sees you first. He drops his blow-up hoe to the ground and makes a Vanna White gesture towards you. One by one everybody’s eyes drift over to you. However, you concern yourself with only one pair. Right now, you can almost see hearts drifting out of them. Mark drops his shield and his jaw looks like it could drag the ground.

“Hermione Granger, at your service,” you tease.

Brooke and Sereena whistle at you. Ben nods his approval, but looks away quickly. Staring, you know, would break the bro code. Mark is still in shock. Still not speaking. So, Cole gladly speaks up for him.

“Hermione huh?” he asks “Well then when do we get to see that pet puss-“

“DO. NOT. FINISH. THAT. SENTENCE. COLE”

Mark’s voice booms out of his suddenly animate body. His brows knit together over the murderous glance he shoots at his friend. Cole just smiles and picks his date up off the ground. When Mark looks back to you it’s not with his sparkly sappy eyes. There’s animal lust; something primal you’ve never seen from him before. Keo picks up on it, too. He clears his throat nice and loud.

“Why don’t we…uh..wait downstairs for Dani and Mark to lock up?”

Everyone agrees except Cole, who excuses himself to the bathroom. First the front door shuts with a definite click. The guest bathroom door follows. With prying eyes gone, Mark takes a step closer.

“I …I…Uh…” he stutters incoherently.

“Yes, Captain?” You answer.

His body visibly shakes. You know what roleplaying does to him. You also know you should not play before you go out with your friends. Yet you continue. Last night, when you should’ve been sleeping, you rehearsed your role over and over in your head. Now it was time to say it. You stretch one arm out towards him and point it slightly downward.

“Accio!” you say in a commanding voice.

Mark stares at you, confused.

“What?”

So you say it again.

“Accio!”

You curl your finger up and he takes enough of a hint to walk towards you. It doesn’t stop at pointing. You close the space between you by pressed your overflowing, bosomy, neckline against him. Your hand wanders down and you give him a playful squeeze. Mark gasps and his knees buckle. Thankfully, he catches himself.

“Jesus,” he moans, “are you trying to kill me?!”

Instead of answering with words you give him another squeeze. He whimpers and thrusts against your hands. You let your lips hover over his so when you speak they touch.

“No, Captain, “you correct him, “I’m just calling my wand to me.”

“Wand? Or a broomstick? Because I’m pretty sure you’re gonna ride that-“

“COLE I WILL KILL YOU IF YOU DON’T DISAPPEAR!”

You don’t know how Cole manages to exit the bathroom so quietly. It is clear though that he’s heard the whole exchange. A death threat isn’t enough to stop the fun he will have with this.

“Murder, Markus?” he replies with a grin, “the only murder of the evening will happen later when Dani slays your co-“

“OUT!”

Cole laughs and runs from the apartment. You hear his ridiculous guffaw grow weaker and weaker until silence returns. When he’s once more at ease Mark puts his hands on your hips. He hungrily takes in every inch of you as his hands wander. First to your ass. He smacks you and brings his mouth to your ear.

“Later, little witch,” he murmurs, “I’ll be the one to put a spell on you”.

One hand unclenches from your left cheek and reaches between your legs. It gently pushes past the lace of your panties and sweeps along the wet, sensitive skin. Without looking away from you he brings those fingers to his mouth and tastes you. Yeah. It won’t be that much later for you.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

This is a record fast Halloween outing with your friends. You last about an hour before you take an Uber back home; practically crawling out of your skin with the desire to touch each other. By the time you get up to the apartment you barely close the door before going at it. Mark rips his costume right off but insists you remain in yours. He takes you to the kitchen counter, sit you on top, and smiles when your legs wrap around his waist. Your panties are pushed to the side and before you know it you’re moaning against Mark’s mouth. He’s not gentle tonight. He’s rough and deep and he bites your lips and shoulder each time he feels your body clench down around him. When he climaxes he grips your thighs so hard small purple bruises immediately form. He’s never had you like this. And this is something you’d gladly get used to.

A short while later you lay together on the couch – spent but completely satisfied. The smile on your face tells the story.

“Hey Cap?” you address him.

“Yes, Granger?”

“We didn’t get any candy tonight.”

Mark nods his head and then looks at you. The adoring, sparkly gaze returns.

“Oh no Baby,” he answers, “I got one, two, three, four treats from you, didn’t I?”

Yep. Four. He will try to top that every time he makes love to you. He kisses you gently and then rests his chin against the top of your head.

“Happy Halloween, Mr. Collins.”

“Same to you, Mrs. Collins.”

#lovehacks #pixelberry #playchoices #lovehacks mark #lovehacks mc #lovehacks cole #lovehacks sereena #lovehacks horatio #lovehacks ben #lovehacks brooke #lovehacks keo

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supernaturalteenwolf67-blog · 7 years

Text

Black Magic

Summary: Dean now has the Mark and is a demon. He was going to just leave you and Sam, but you two are more connected than ever.Plus even Cupid said that you and Dean were not destined by the angels, you were made out of true love, but the mark made you stronger. You decide to go off with him and Crowley even though Dean doesn’t think you should, but the mark had an effect on you also. Turning you as dark as him. But that will change along the way.

Dean rolls over off of you, both covered by bedsheets and very satisfied and out of breath. “Wow! I mean really - wow. What time is it? Daryl’s gonna kill me if I’m late again. He’s been up my ass lately and I think he has some weird fantasy of not letting it go without a price.” Dean checks the clock and it’s later than you both would’ve thought. “Oops.” “Damn it! You know I need to keep a job no matter where we go Dean and this guy is a sleaze as it is. I told you to hurry up, but then you had to go and do that thing.” “Wait, you mean the thing you were begging me for?” “Yea… well.” “Hey let’s not argue about good sex.” “It was good” Dean pulls you closer to him with a devilish smile as you are trying to get redressed. “Mmm hmm… just blow off work and go in later. A bar shouldn’t need a waitress in the middle of the day.” It took some persuading, and neck kisses, but as always you gave into Dean’s request. “Ahh, fine, but if I get fired it’s on you.” “Yea, yea. Whatever you’ll be fine and if not I’ll just have to have a long chat with this Daryl on how he treats my girl.” “Okay no bodies need to be dropped.” You re-enter the bed crawling on top of Dean, but the door suddenly opens showing Crowley in the doorway. “Woah!” “Woah? What the hell’s going on here?” “What does it look like?” “In my bed?” “Huh?… Oh… heh heh.” “Jerk.” “Bitch.” “Okay you two, get a room.” “Had a room sweetheart, until you two soiled it.” “Well what can we say not everyone is so tied up to themselves like you.” “Heh.” “Dean!” “What?” “Pants.” Later that day Y/N went back to the bar as Crowley and Dean played foosball. They lost, so Dean had to buy the next round. He went to get the pitcher, but was distracted by a man grabbing Y/N and hauling her outside. Usually you could handle herself in these occasions, but you were in public and you couldn’t just beat the guy in front of people. Dean and Crowley followed you outside. The man started to get rough with you and Dean couldn’t stand for that. “Get off me!” “Come on babe, you look like the kind of girl who do anything for a quick buck.” “Get your sleazy hands off of me! You drunk!That’s it I’m done!” “Hey you don’t get to decide when you’re finished!” “Stop it!” The man was about to lay his hands on you but before you or anyone could do anything Dean approaches enraged by the sight. “Hey, is this him?” “There a problem?” “Yeah, you Daryl?” All of a sudden Dean grabs Daryl and throws him on the hood of a car and starts punching him. “Dean!” “You need to stay away from her. Don’t try anything, cause if you do, trust me pal you’ll regret it. You understand me?!” Dean keeps punching Daryl till you intervene, leaving him barely conscious. You persuade him to go back inside and settle down, but he gets the feeling someone was watching him and there was. “Hey, he’s not worth it.” “Not anymore he’s not.” “Okay, it’s over let’s just go.” Later that night you leave early planning something for Dean after what he did for you. Dean soon leaves after you and lures out the man who was watching him earlier. He was one of Abaddon’s followers and couldn’t handle that Dean was the one who wasted her ass. He had it out with Dean, but Dean ended up killing him with the First Blade. While that was going on Sam was investigating Dean’s whereabouts and found footage of him with black eyes. Then on his way to find the two of you after tracking a phone call with Crowley someone named Cole from Dean’s past jumps Sam, hoping for information. Dean get’s back to the motel room and no one seemed to be there, but candles were lit all over and the lighting was dimmed. Y/N comes out of the bathroom in a silk black robe with lace lingerie underneath. Implying that tonight you were going to thank Dean for being your knight in shining honor. “Is this for me?” “Well you’ve been on a little bit of an edge, and after today I thought you should be taken care of.” Dean plays along acting like he has a had the worst day ever. “Yea, I mean after having to beat a guy nearly to death so he would lay of this hot chick at the bar really takes a lot out of me.” “Oh… this hot chick huh… how hot was she that you beat a guy for her?” “Hell she was smokin.” “Yeah she was?” “Definitely. I think you would like her. She’s kind of a badass and has beautiful Y/E/C eyes and a body like no other.” “Yea… too bad you didn’t take her home and have to settle for me.” You giggle slowly walking closer to Dean until your chest to chest, gripping onto his shoulders working your hands up to his neck. While his hands find their way down your back. “Yea well I can manage.” “Oh shut up and come here.” Dean looks at you hungrily and before know it you both are leaving bruises on each other from rough kisses. Dean lifts you up, bringing you to the bed. He puts you down and you two start going at it. The next morning you both wake up to the site of Crowley looking at you. “Oh My God Crowley! Have you ever heard of knocking.” “Well darling if you two would do this in another room then maybe I would consider that. Until then…” “Okay. What’s up?” “We need to talk about business.” “What kind of business.” Dean glances at you then back at Crowley flashing his eyes to black in an instant. “Exactly that. Now get up.” Dean’s eyes go back to his hazel green color and you both get up out of the bed, him in boxers and you in nothing but your silk robe. Dean starts getting dressed, but you don’t since Crowley is still standing in the room. “Crowley… um… do ya mind?” “What if there’s anything I haven’t seen before I’ll throw a dollar at it.” “Agh! Whatever.” You take you clothes and walk into the bathroom. Dean watches you as you leave then returns back to putting his clothes on. “I think she’s warming up to me. How touching.” You go back to the bar and there’s new management already. Dean must have really gotten to Daryl, but you didn’t really care. You go behind the counter and serve Dean and Crowley before you wait on anyone else. “Well I’ll leave you two to your ‘business’.” You leave and Crowley tries to speak, but Dean has a bone to pick with him. “You sent those demons to kill me?” “To keep you sharp. The mark needs to be sated. Otherwise-” “Otherwise I become demon. Yeah I sort of got that, six weeks ago.” “Oh well boo-hoo. I needed to keep you sharp for our future and that’s the reason we need to talk.” “About?” “How to put this? If I have to spend one more night in the place of broken dreams and B.O., I will cut off my own face. Seriously Dean how many one-hit wonders can you sing to death?” “We had a deal with this situation - no time stamp.” “It’s time for you to accept what you are and get back to work.” “Pass.” “Think of it the king of hell, Dean Winchester by his side. Together we rule. We’re not ending the party. We’re just moving the party.” Y/N comes over around the bar pouring Dean another glass and listening in on his and Crowley’s conversation. “Oh did I forget to mention I spoke to moose earlier?” You and Dean both surprised at the comment and react at the same time. “What?!” “Yes. Uh, apparently, he’s been tracking us for some time now. It was -words were spoken - feelings. I realize, in retrospect, perhaps too many words, too many feelings.” “So you think-” “He traced the call. You sold us out, that’s - that’s just great.” “I don’t know what’s going on with you. But I’ve had just about enough of it. Sold you out? Everything I’ve done for you for the past six months - the mark, the First Blade,midwifing you back to life, offering you a seat by my side, allowing your girlfriend to ride along has been a favor, a gift, whether you see it or you don’t.” Throughout the night Dean gets drunk and sings karaoke till the crowd boos him and he blacks out. He wakes up to you handing him a glass a water, but he refuses it. “Mm” “What?” “Let’s go somewhere, you and me.” “Like where?” “Anywhere.” “Babe, you’re drunk.” “And.” “And we can’t just leave. We have to deal with the fact that Sam is on our trail now and maybe…” “What, you want Sam to find us. Well then go ahead pick your side.” “That’s not what I’m saying Dean, think what you want, but don’t you dare say that I’m picking sides. You know that the Mark didn’t only change you, but me too.” You brush off what Dean says and start packing for the both of you. After realizing Sam was probably well on his way to you, you needed to get out of dodge. Dean and Y/N were in the impala well on your way to another town to trash and all of a sudden Dean’s phone starts ringing. It’s Sam’s number, but not Sam, it’s Cole the guy who jumped him threatening to kill him if Dean doesn’t meet him. Dean doesn’t oblige and hangs up the phone. “What’s going on?” “Oh ya know Sammy always getting himself into crap. Oh well not my problem.” “Oh…” “Yep, well to bad.” The next morning you and Dean are in a bar and Crowley appears and starts bargaining a way for Dean to feed the Mark, but in the end it didn’t turn out as planned he killed the guy who sold his soul and when Dean came back Crowley was enraged he killed the customer. As the Mark was changing Dean you could feel he was flying off the handle, but you were to frightened to say anything to him. That day Sam found you and Dean in the bar Sam tries to handle Dean and it doesn’t work out. Then Cole tries to take on Dean himself, but Dean knocks him on his ass. You didn’t know what exactly was coming over you, but instead of feeling Dean was right you couldn’t bare the sight of him. Sam splashed him with holy water and cuffed Dean to the impala then cuffed you as well, just to be safe. For once in the past six weeks you didn’t feel as dark as the mark made you and Dean. You could see it still was affecting him as he was a demon of course, but that same darkness seemed to die in you, bringing back the light you once saw in Dean. You hid yourself from Dean’s eyes the whole car ride. Sam separated you from Dean once you got to the bunker because you weren’t a demon, but he needed to know what happened. “Sam, whatever’s going on with Dean it’s not affecting me as much anymore. I swear, you can trust me.” “Y/N how can I be sure. Until I fix Dean I can’t shorten the leash with you.” “Okay I understand. Just don’t kill him. I can still feel him, were still connected somehow. The pain you’re putting him through with the injections isn’t only affecting him, but me as well.” “I’m sorry Y/N but you know I can’t stop them. I have to get my brother back.” “I get it Sam, do what you have to don’t worry about me.” “Thanks for understanding I’ll come back later. Okay.” “Okay.” The last injection Sam did hit Dean really hard causing you to black out. Unaware of what was going on outside of the room, but even as you were knocked out you could sense that Dean was out for blood. And he was, for Sam but Castiel got to the bunker in time to grab Dean. Sam injected Dean one last time and that did the trick. Sam came back to the room you were locked in and once you were uncuffed you ran to Dean. You hadn’t seen the demon in him anymore you only saw the man you had fallen in love with. And even though you knew that it wasn’t going to be easy along the way you were determined to find a cure for the mark.

#dean x reader

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