#it’s okay angel you should see how asymmetrical my face is

[lulu2992]

Welcome to the Bliss

I did it! I colored my 16th Inktober 2023 drawing... and made an alternative version 🦋

#and look a gradient text! #far cry 5 #angel #bliss #eden’s gate #butterflies #moths #my art #fan art #traditional art #digital coloring #just… don’t flip this horizontally :’) #see I didn’t want to edit the original face #but I also wanted to use it as a base for the other version despite the left eye looking weird #I mean it looked strange on purpose but when you try to turn it into a normal eye the whole face looks off #...oh well it’s not that bad #it’s okay angel you should see how asymmetrical my face is #my jaw... my eyes... my nostrils... literally nothing looks even haha

[handsome-john]

Community Gardens

Guess who’s finally dragged themselves out of writer’s block hell and is using this energy to fix the terrible lack of Hanahaki fics in this fandom! Check reblogs for ao3 link if you prefer reading that way

Relationships: Rhack, with some Timoxxi in the back ground

Words: 3621

Warnings: Blood, vomit, strong language, and sexual humor 

Summary:  It was a rose, complete with a thorny stem. It was soft, delicate, beautiful, and drenched in blood.

Handsome Jack did not fall in love. Sure he slept around, maybe had a few candle lit dates, once even playfully kissed a co-worker on the cheek while a little tipsy. But he did not fall in love. 

  Sure Jack fell in love plenty of times. Even married twice and almost got married a third time before Nisha had the common sense to walk out the door. But Jack died long ago, in a godforsaken vault on that godforsaken moon. 

  All that was left was Handsome Jack. Powerful, rich, and sexy CEO of Hyperion. Who did not fall in love with anyone! No one at all. 

  Handsome Jack told himself that every night. But that did not stop the soreness in his throat or the tightness in his lungs. It didn’t stop the constant flow of rose petals he coughed up each night.

  Handsome Jack did not fall in love. He plunged head first into it, just like Jack plunged into that vault all those years ago. And just like that vault, the only thing Jack would gain from love is disappointment and permanent scars. 

  He didn’t realize he’d been zoned out for the past half-hour until the hot piece of ass Jack called his PA snapped him out of it.   “Your coffee, sir.” Rhys said, handing him a mug with Jack’s face on it. “I made it as sweet as you, sir.” 

  The coffee was black, just how Jack liked it. He gave him a smile that was all teeth. “You’re lucky I’m too lazy to find another personal assistant as good as you, pumpkin. Anyone else would be getting an up close and personal look at my airlock for that kind of sass.”

  “I know sir,” Rhys said with the tone of someone who knew exactly how important they were, and the smirk to match. 

  Do you really? Jack wanted to ask. Do you have any idea how important you are to me?

  Rhys made Jack feel vulnerable, and he had the charm and personality to make Jack not even mind. He had Handsome freakin’ Jack wrapped around his little cybernetic finger and there was nothing Jack could do about it. 

  Well there was one thing. But Handsome Jack didn’t do that. Even if he wanted to. 

  He was snapped out of his thoughts once again by another coughing fit. His throat had been killing him all morning. It’s the worst it’s ever been and the strangest part was that there hadn’t even been any petals yet. Sure he was grateful, wouldn’t want to spit bloody sunflower petals all over Rhys’s stupid asymmetrical shirt, but it was odd. 

  “Are you alright sir?” Rhys said with concern so genuine it made Jack’s stomach twist into a knot. 

  “I’m freakin’ fine-” He wheezed, sounding like a dying dog. He gripped his desk for support, coughing his throat raw. 

  “I’ll go get some cough medicine!” Jack didn’t want to be alone at the moment, but he’d rather Rhys not see what happened next. 

  Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth, definitely seeping under his mask and splattering across the desk. The burning in his throat made his eyes water, like he ate a cup full of razor blades. No scratch that, a cup full of razor blades would be preferable to this.

  He jolted forward, retching when he felt something tickling the back of his tongue. It was soft, like a tissue. It was also very good at hitting every single one of his gag triggers. 

  He knelt over his trash can and shoved two fingers into his mouth. He was desperate to get whatever the fuck that was out of him. 

  The pain intensified tenfold as he tugged. Black spots danced in his vision. God he was pathetic.

  Finally there was a soft snap and Jack threw the wet thing onto the floor with a soft splat. He grabbed the bin and hacked up petals and whatever he ate for breakfast. With his stomach emptied, Jack laid down on the floor, the cool tile nice against his burning face, and examined whatever the hell he just coughed up. 

  It was a rose, complete with a thorny stem. It was soft, delicate, beautiful, and drenched in blood. 

  Of course it was a fucking rose. 

  The door opened with a whoosh, alerting Jack that Rhys was back. He quickly threw away the rose and whipped his face. Hopefully Rhys wouldn’t notice all the blood on his desk, or floor, or in the garbage can, or leaking out the side of his mask, or…

  Okay so he was screwed.

  “What the hell happened!? Jack! Jack, do I need to call anyone!?” Rhys knelt by his side, gently shaking the man on the floor.

  “I’m fucking fine kiddo.” He grimaced, his body screaming at him to shut the hell up. He tried to sit up, but a firm hand on his chest stopped him. 

  “You should lay down. Rest your head. What happened? Is there a doctor I can call?” 

  “No!” Jack growled. He hated doctor’s. Last time he went to a doctor for anything more than a shot or a regular check up was when he was getting a mask grafted to his face. He hated their pitying looks and how they treated him like glass. He could never trust a doctor. 

  But he trusted Rhys. Rhys had only worked for Jack a little over five years. But in those five years Rhys had gotten closer to him than anyone else. Jack trusted Rhys enough to open up about his daughter, his sweet Angel that was off with another pair of sirens learning to use her Phaseshift powers. 

  Could he trust Rhys with this? It wasn’t like he had much of a choice because the more he thought about Rhys, the itchier his throat felt, until he was sputtering out sunflower petals. 

  Rhys’s expression was hard to read. A mix of horror, realization, and sympathy. “Oh… Oh no.” 

  Oh no was a pretty good way to describe hanahaki. It wasn’t contagious, but it was extremely easy to catch. There was no cure, at least no cure that was worth it, but with advances in modern medicine it wasn’t deadly. 

  There were three levels of severity. Tier one which was common in kids with schoolyard crushes that would really go anywhere. It usually only involved petals. Tier two is what you had to worry about, coming from the kind of crushes you could actually see yourself marrying. Sore throats, difficulty breathing, and small flowers.

  Tier three was the worst kind. While the flowers and vines themselves won’t kill you, suffocation and blood loss will. There were medicines that could get rid of the stems, and small surgeries to help the lungs, but completely removing the flowers could be extremely detrimental to both your physical and mental health. 

  Tier three hanahaki came from deep love that was surly unrequited. But that’s just what the ECHOnet told him. And what did the ECHOnet know. Handsome Jack did not fall in love.

  Sure his doppelgänger fell in love, but Tim wasn’t Jack, even though Jack was paying him to be. Tim was actually where he learned about hanahaki. It happened after they met Moxxi on Concordia. 

***

“Does anyone have a bottle of bubbly I can smash against this thing?” Jack asked as they prepared to launch the Meriff’s statue-head into Pandora’s asshole. “Ah nevermind. Go ahead and fire!” 

  Nisha cackled as she slammed her hand onto the launch button. The remix played as it zoomed off. 

  Jack glanced around, noticing one of his vault hunter’s missing. “Say have any of you seen Timmy around? He was supposed to be here for this!?” 

  “Lost track of him after we spoke to Moxxi.” Wilhelm said, which was probably one of the longer sentences he’s said yet. 

  “I think I saw him run to the bathroom. Probably to deal with a ‘little problem’ of it,” Nisha said with an exaggerated wink. 

  “He’s going to have bigger problems in a minute.” 

  Jack made his way over to the bathrooms, fully ready to chew Timothy out. “Tim! You better not be Jacking-off in here!” 

  He heard Tim groan in pain and ran over to his stall. He found the doppelgänger kneeled by the toilet, face first in it. Jack let out a low whistle, feeling a twinge of sympathy.

  “Moxxi rope you into having one too many drinks?” He paused, noticing a trial of magnolia petals. 

  Tim looked at Jack and coughed, spraying petals across the floor. 

  It wasn’t hard to figure out it was hanahaki. Looking up “coughing up flowers” really only has one result, not including weird fetish porn. 

  “It better not be Moxxi.” Jack said, threat emanating from his voice.

  Tim had a bashful look on his face that Jack would never be caught dead with. “She’s just so pretty. And smart! She’s a mechanic and she looks cute even witho-” he whimpered as more petals filled his mouth.

  It only seemed to be a tier two case, still it would be annoying if Tim was kept from work just because of some flower petals. Though it would also be annoying to watch his ex and his doppelgänger get all mushy and gross together. 

  Somehow the tiny little piece of him that felt bad for the doppelgänger won out. 

  “Okay fine. Go for it.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’ve got my charm and good looks. You can win her back no problem.” 

  Tim smiled, wiping the drool and petals off his face. “Thank you sir! I won’t disappoint you sir!” 

  That night Tim fell in love. But Jack was not Tim. Handsome Jack did not love. 

***

After Jack refused to see a doctor, Rhys decided to assign himself the role of caretaker, starting with getting Jack home. Handsome Jack wasn’t sure why Rhys insisted on supporting him as they made their way up to Jack’s penthouse. It wasn’t like his legs were broken. 

  Rhys laid Jack onto the couch. “Stay here and rest. I’ll make tea, it'll help with your throat.” 

  “Fine fine.” Jack wasn’t even sure if he had tea. He was more of a coffee man. 

  He didn’t usually bring people up to his penthouse for social calls, if you could call whatever this is a social call. Actually he never let anyone in here that he wasn’t planning on fucking or killing. The more he thought about it, the more likely he would probably end up doing one of those things to Rhys. 

  Rhys returned, handing him a teacup. “This will taste bitter, but it helps with the sore throats and the thorns.” He smiled at him. A soft smile that made Jack feel weirdly vulnerable, like Rhys could see right through him and still wanted him.

  Jack shuttered, his throat burning when he thought of Rhys. It was coincidence of course, Jack was not in love with Rhys. 

  He took a slow sip of the tea and forced back a gag. “God you weren’t kidding when you said bitter!” 

  Rhys winced. “Normally people add a bit of honey to help with the taste, but I couldn’t find any and I was in a hurry.” 

  Jack stared at the swirling grey-green liquid and decided a bad taste was better than a sore throat. 

  “How do you know so much about this shit anyway?” 

  Rhys sat down and rubbed the back of his neck. “I had a friend that had a chronic case of it. I learned a lot helping them out.” 

  “Oh… How long did your friend have it?” 

  “Five years.”

  “Damn. How does someone live that way.”

  Rhys shrugged. “You get used to it. Eventually taking pain meds and hiding flower petals in your shirt becomes as normal as waking up every morning and going to work. You adapt.” 

  Jack wasn’t sure what to say, which was probably a good thing since it was killing him to hold a conversation this long. Rhys stood up, signifying that this conversation was probably over anyway. 

  “I’ll make dinner. Something soft. Do you have ice cream? I guess obviously you probably do. I’m going to walk away now.” 

  Jack pretended he wasn’t staring right at Rhys’s ass as he left. Rhys always seemed confident at work, when he was making phone calls and chewing someone out for Jack. But the few times Jack had caught Rhys outside of work he was a whole different person. Jack could certainly understand putting on a mask.

  Speaking of masks, god his was itchy. He trusted Rhys, but he didn’t want to take his mask off around him. Rhys would be disgusted, probably be asked to be transferred to a different part of Helios. Jack would probably have to kill Rhys in case he tried to use his secret against him. 

     No, the reasonable side of Jack protested. Rhys never once tried to manipulate Jack. Sure sometimes he would hackle Jack about a raise, but he never once used Angel against him, or slipped a little alcohol in his drink so he’d be more agreeable. Hell the kid hasn’t even tried to get in bed with Jack. And at this point, shooting your shot with the Handsome Jack, might as well be in the job description. 

  Jack wheezed as he coughed up hyacinth petals into his now empty glass. Why hadn’t Rhys ever made a move on him? It wasn’t like Rhys was afraid of Jack. Is it possible Rhys just doesn’t see Jack that way?

  No that’s impossible, Jack’s vanity said. Everyone in the ship, no matter the sexuality, wanted a piece of Jack. And Rhys’s feelings didn’t matter either way, because Handsome Jack did not fall in love. 

  Rhys, the pure angel, returned with a bucket and a tub of chocolate ice cream just in time to catch the hyacinths Jack puked up. 

***

“You know this would be easier if you took off your mask,” Rhys said softly. 

  “You’ve said.” Jack growled, plucking petals out of his drink. Jack didn’t remember when Rhys dragged him over to his bed but that’s where he’s been the past couple of days.  

  “I just want to help you. I promise I won’t tell a soul. It just can’t be good for you to wear it this long.” 

  Rhys had been up in Jack’s penthouse for a week. Jack refused to see a doctor and his condition was slowly getting worse. Rhys did what he could, but what Jack really needed was a doctor or to confess his feelings. 

  It hurt watching his boss and friend, at least Rhys hoped they were friends, in so much pain. For many reasons. His most selfish reason was that he was sure that whoever Jack loved, it definitely wasn’t him. 

  Jack gave him a cold look that made Rhys’s stomach twist for many reasons. 

  “Fine I understand. I’m going to go make dinner.” Rhys got up and made his way over to the bathroom instead. He kneeled over the toilet, jacarandas spilling out of his mouth. At least they aren’t roses, he thought bitterly. 

  Jack insisted that he could eat solid foods just fine, but Rhys knew from experience that probably wouldn’t be a good idea without proper medication. 

  Proper medication that Rhys hadn’t had access to in a week because he’s been at his boss's beck and call ever since he watched Jack hack up three bloody roses on the floor. 

  His condition was getting worse, he could feel it. He’s had to step out more and more to deal with his problem. And just being around Jack in itself made his condition worse enough. 

  It was only a matter of time before it slipped out and Jack threw him out. God if only he could just get over his stupid crush. 

  Rhys was careful not to get kalmias in the smoothie he was making. He’d have to go shopping soon too, they were running out of supplies. Though Jack probably got everything delivered. 

  Jack glared at the cup in Rhys’s hand. He was tired of eating out of a straw. But at least Rhys seemed to know what he was doing. 

  He was running out of time and he knew it. It was only a matter of time before he suffocated on petals, or the roses and sunflowers fucked up his throat beyond repair, or worst of all, he accidentally confesses his feelings and scares Rhys off. 

  Why was Rhys staying with him anyway? It wasn’t like Jack asked him too, and Rhys wasn’t getting paid for any of this. Is it possible Rhys could like him back?

  Jack immediately regretted letting himself go down that train of thought. He could feel a sunflower pushing his way up his throat. Sunflowers were the worst. Sure less thorns, but god were they huge and seemed to come up the most. 

  Rhys frowned sympathetically, reaching out to massage his throat. Normally Jack would murder someone for getting so handsy, but he wasn’t in any position to snap at him. Besides it was helping. Has been helping for the past few days.  

  “Jack! Please let me remove your mask.” Rhys said, trying to be soft. This felt big and it would certainly help if there wasn’t a mask in the way. 

  Jack glared, trying to push Rhys away against his better judgement. In his defense he was loopy from oxygen deprivation. 

  Rhys sighed, future him could deal with the consequences of reaching out and undoing the latches and throwing the mask onto the floor. Rhys tried not to let his gaze dwell on the deep scar running down Jack’s face. He focused on soothing Jack and keeping him calm. He could feel his own throat tightening with petals. 

  Slowly he helped Jack up, bringing him down the hall to the bathroom. Petals were already seeping from Jack’s scarred lips. 

  Jack could feel the sunflower’s head hit the back of his mouth, making him gag. Rhys brought him into a kneeling position over the bowl. Jack shoved his hand into his mouth, trying to yank it out, also against any logic. 

  Rhys winced as he pulled out a sunflower the size of his head. It would be beautiful if it weren’t covered in blood.  

  “Remember to breathe through your nose. Doesn’t try and force anything out. Just relax your throat and let it all fall out.” Rhys kept his voice calm, an emotion he absolutely did not feel. He grabbed his stomach, suddenly going into a coughing fit. Shit not right now. 

  Jack wasn’t sure what he felt as he watched Rhys spit out kalmias. Well he didn’t know what he felt besides pain and envy. 

  “Shit!” Rhys said, once he got it out of his system. “I’m sorry!” 

  Jack grabbed the front of Rhys’s shirt and pulled him in, locking their lips together. Rhys froze, his brain lagging behind everything else. Was Jack kissing him or was he finally dying and his brain was making him happy before he goes. 

  Jack wasn’t thinking at all. It wasn’t a kiss out of love, Handsome Jack did not love.

  Okay fuck it, Jack was stupidly in love. Stupid, stupid, stupid feelings! Rhys already loved someone else and was probably going to run off as soon as Jack let go. 

  So just never let go, Jack’s possessive side said. Jack hugged Rhys tighter, kissing him harder.

  So this was real. Rhys melted, having trouble keeping up with the kiss. Tears spilled down his cheeks, he wasn’t sure if they were his or Jack’s. He felt his lungs twist and he shoved Jack back.

  Five years of roots were coming up all at once. Rhys braced himself, grabbing Jack’s hand hard enough to hurt.

  Jack was about to say something but was interrupted by a sudden lurch as his own roots forced their way out. They weren’t as deep, but it still hurt like a bitch. 

  After several minutes of hacking up repressed feelings, they both collapsed on the floor. 

  “So…” Rhys said, cringing at how his voice sounded. “How’d you get that scar?” 

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Jack said, voice squally scratchy. “I don’t want to talk at all.” Jack cupped Rhys’s cheek and pulled him into a kiss, and Rhys happily let him. 

  Maybe Handsome Jack could love, just this once. 

***

“There you two are! I’ve been trying to contact you for days!” Timothy said, glaring at his boss. “You can’t just say you need me to take charge of Helio’s for a while and then not give me any information! And where have you been!?” He points at Rhys. “You’re supposed to fill me in on what’s going on. I’ve been winging it for a week!”

  Rhys gave him a nervous smile, taking Jack’s hand. The action didn’t go unnoticed by Tim who was starting to deflate. 

  “I told you I was sick.” Jack said. “Rhys was taking care of me.”

  “Whatever. Just don’t complain to me about all the work you have left over. And don’t forget to pay me.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll ECHO you later. Don’t you have a girlfriend to run home too?” Jack really just wanted some alone time. Well alone with Rhys time. 

  “Fiancée.” Tim corrected. Jack could tell his dopplegӓnger was blushing slightly under his identical mask. “I’ll see myself out. Congrats on finally getting together.” 

  “Finally?” Rhys asked, but Tim had already skipped out. 

  “Don’t mind him.” Jack said, kissing his cheek in an oddly gentle way. “We have work to catch up on.”

  Rhys smiled, pulling Jack into a kiss. “I’ll get your coffee then, sir.”

  Jack shamelessly stared at Rhys’s ass as he walked off. Yeah this could work out. 

#borderlands #tales from the borderlands #rhack #handsome jack #rhys strongfork #rhys the company man #rhys x jack #my fic #hanahaki #hanahaki disease

[whumpitisthen]

Récamier

Masterlist

First drabble! This was made as a way to torture my friend who has a slightly unhealthy obsession with vampires. That’s why it’s in first person, I usually write in the third! Anyways, hope you like it. :) 

"So..." - He began. He sounded soft and patient. - "You told me last week you've been having nightmares, ones you’ve never had before."

"Oh, did i tell you about that as well?" You reply, having genuinely forgotten that you told him about those.

"Yes, you have. Has your memory been getting worse as well?" He sounds almost concerned, a look of empathy in his eyes.

"Oh, no, no, I think it's pretty much the same as it always has been...?" It came out as a shaky reply, not confident in your own answer either.  

"You don't sound too sure of that, Darling.” He says, a mocking smile playing on his lips as he notices the reaction the pet name has brought out of you. It wasn't anything big, just a small widening of the eyes and setting of your jaw, but he noticed nevertheless. He seems to really pay attention to you, in a way no-one else has, in a way no-one should.

"Uhmm... I think that's not something to worry about. I just forgot, that's all.” You add with a reassuring smile, ignoring the one that he wore still, though now it's starting to morph into a different one. Looks a little smaller, tight-lipped, overly kind.

He seems to disregard your answer entirely, instead, he pulls himself up a little straighter. He takes a deep breath, momentarily closing his eyes, which allows you just a moment to take a good look at him.

You never told him but you do feel kind of intimidated by him. You know you shouldn't be. After all, he's your therapist. You should feel comfortable and relaxed, like you're just having a nice chat with a trusted friend.

But something about him seems... he just seems-, off, sometimes. You yourself are not even sure what the reason for that is. Maybe it's the relaxed way he keeps pulling his finger up and down on the arm of the chair. Maybe its the slight asymmetrical pull of the corners of his mouth, how on the left side it always pulls a little higher when he smiles. Maybe its the way he looks, distinctly paler than you, almost slickly, so much so, that you had to often stop yourself from asking him "Are you okay?". Maybe... Its the way his eyes seem to change colour, with the different lighting. You have noticed all these things about him in the month you've been coming here. Twice a week. He insisted on two times, even though you said you didn't think you needed it. In the end you decided to give in, he was the therapist after all. He knew what you needed.

"You're zoning out again, Darling. Do you perhaps need a break?"

There it is again. That pet name.

He hasn't called you that before. Or has he?

Maybe your memory really has been getting worse.

"Oh, u-uhm, sorry! No, it's fine we can keep going if you'd like." He seems to believe you, as he changes his position, crossing his legs and leaning his chin on one hand, as if getting ready for a story.

"So, you said something about bad nightmares you've been getting at the end of our last session. I'd like to ask you: Have they gotten any worse?"

You still don't remember actually telling him about them and honestly it’s starting to really bother you. You always have your guard up as it is, trust issues and all that, part of why you’re here, talking with your therapist. But for the life of you, you just cannot remember when you told him about those. Because you surely have. You have. He wouldn’t know otherwise! This is stupid.

"Ah, um. I guess... I-I don't know. I feel like they leave me more... tired? Than before. And I seem to get more exhausted as the days go on. I'm afraid I'll start falling asleep at my job if this keeps up."

He hums. Writes something on his clipboard. "Do you still see that shadow person that keeps following you?"

You don't remember telling him that either. No, shut up, you did because he knows, and the only way he would is if you told him.

He seems to notice your hesitation.

"I'm sorry, would you like to not talk about this for now? We can discuss something else."

His voice feels like it's background noise. Like waking up to birds chirping. They're loud and did wake you up, but you don't mind being woken up by birds singing under your window. It's a welcome way of attention.

It calms you. It relaxes you.

It makes you feel... tired.

"We can discuss the way you've been fidgeting a little more today than other times, I have noticed. Or how you keep stuttering so much. I can see something is bothering you. Can you tell me what it is, Love?"

A different pet name, but a pet name nonetheless.

You don't remember him calling you that before.

You don't remember.

You.

Dont-

"How do you know?"

You blurt out without thought.

You immediately regret it, but ultimately decide to keep the question in the air.

Because you cannot explain away the feeling of anxiety at every mention of those dreams, or pet names, or, or- ...you. It feels wrong, in this moment, to talk about you. It sounds dumb, these are your therapy sessions after all. It feels wrong though. Different. Like this isn’t how it was supposed to go. How else could it have gone?

"Excuse me?" He looks genuinely surprised. You think he might've missed the question, with how fast you blurted it out.

Before you could ask again, or rather apologize for the weird as fuck question, he continues. "How do I know... About what? About...” - He seems lost in thought, thinking about what it might be that you're referring to. His eyes land on his clipboard and stay there for a while, drifting over it. - “...about ...your dreams, perhaps?" He finishes slowly, as if unsure.

"Yes, uh... I... I don't remember t-telling about them... to... you?" You hate yourself for sounding like a scared child. You especially hate that your voice cracks in the middle of it, and you see his eyes widen, just a little, at that.

God, could you be more embarrassing?

"I told you, Dear.” - Another. -”You told me about them last week, didn't you?"

"I-I-I..., um..."

You're unsure of what to say

"I-, ...don't remember." You take a shaky breath, trying to stay calm. You notice the slight tremble of your hands.

"...You seem troubled. Are you quite sure you're alright, Darling?” - He gives a reassuring smile, encouraging you to be confident and tell him if you're not. - “Perhaps, you feel... Hm." He stands up leaving the clipboard on his table. He walks over, as slowly and non-threataningly as he can, putting the back of his hand on your forehead.

"Hm... You don't seem sick. Sweetheart,”- Again. - “maybe we should talk about those dreams. They seem to leave you confused and disoriented."

"Stop."

"Hm?"

"Get off me."

You lean back, away from his hand, and sit up to catch your breath.

He seems perplexed. His hand falls back in place as he gets lost in thought again, looking at you. Expectant. Quiet.

"Am... Am I making you uncomfortable, Dear-"

"Stop!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop calling me 'darling' and 'sweetheart' and 'love' and 'dear' and-, and... Stop looking at m-me."

He seems to freeze for a second. You're not sure what caused him to do that, but he seems... apathetic. Emotionless. Like he's not there, for just a moment.

He blinks once, swallows, and some resemblance of humanity comes back to him.

"I-... I am making you uncomfortable, is that it." It was more of a statement than a question. "Hm. So you say you don't remember." His eyes wander again. In the end, they come back, and change colour, and you feel like he's 100 metres tall while you're barely an inch.

The lighting didn't change, but his eyes noticeably did. You feel, with every second, more and more anxious, as the eyes keep looking at you, into you, and keep you in place.

Literally.

You cannot move.

You're trying.

The most you can do is flick your eyes betweeen his.

He comes closer now. His hand finds your forehead again, but this time to put a lost lock behind your ear.

He doesn't say anything, simply looks at you. All of you. While you're forced to keep eye contact, his are roaming over the whole of you, taking in every inch, every crevice, every nook and cranny.

As his eyes move the humanity seems to disappear once more and the hand returns to rest on your cheek, then slide down your neck.

As the pressure builds his other hand comes into view, positioning itself on your arm, effectively turning and pushing you down, back how you were before you realised his secret. Because you did, didn't you? You couldn't have just kept playing this little game of pretend between you two. You had to be smart and figure it out.

As you are shoved down back on the récamier, your thoughts are running a million miles an hour. You are panicking and scared and angry but mostly you just wanna run home, curl up under your covers and cry.

The feeling of having forgotten so much makes you wanna break down right there, but even that is denied of you as your "therapist" looms over you, shadowing your face. In the dark, his eyes, that scarlet hue, is so much more noticeable and unsettling.

How do his eyes go from such a pretty black to that mesmerising crimson? That cannot be human.

He leans down, close, close, right over you, so close you cannot see anything anymore but his eyes, boring endlessly into yours.

"Do you know when our last appointment was?"

You think and you feel like you know but you can't actually name the day, date or even time. Not that you could anwser him, not like this.

"Do you feel as if your mind has been working more different than before?"

"Do you feel unsafe, Angel?"

He leans closer, lips grazing your ear as he whispers, even quiter, like a deadly secret.

"Why did you have to ruin our fun, Angel? Wasn't it nice? Pretending? Playing? Why did you have to ruin that, huh, Sweetheart?"

As his voice starts to shake, a little in anger, a little unhinged, a little dangerous, you start trembling through his paralysing gaze.

You still don't remember anything. Not when the last appointment was, not when you told him about the dreams, not when you got here, not where you live, not who he is, not when your own birthday is, not your own name, only Angel, Angel, Angel...

"Does the shadow person ever... touch you? Has he ever talked to you? What did he say? Can you recall? What was it, hm? Tell me Love."

You don't want to. You don't want to you don't want to-

"A-A-Angel..."

"Yes, Love, keep going."

He was suffocating you

His sheer presence.

"A-a... Ang-gel, can y-y-you... can, you-..."

"That's it, keep going, you're doing great, Dear."

"Ange-el, can, can you-u-... can you c-...can y-you come see me-e...?"

"Mhm. There we go. There's a dear."

You feel violated. You feel him climbing on top of you, his weight effortlessly pinning you down even more, as he leans closer. You feel utterly completely absolutely terrifyingly helpless.

"See? In the end, you did remember!" He seems to sound different. He sounds like he's holding something back. Like there's a dam that's about to break and let the water envelop an entire city underwater. Like he's about to swallow you whole.

"Too late now, though. Shame. I was having fun with you. Too bad it had to end so soon. Now, maybe if you look desperate enough, we could do it again sometime? Wouldn't that be fun?"

"Now keep still for me, Angel, this might hurt just a bit. I feel it's only fair i make you pay for wasting my time like that."

#creepy whumper #intimate whumper #whump #vampire whumper #y/n #reader insert #fear #amnesia #hallucination #nightmare #paralyzed #therapy session #first drabble can i get a pogchamp #my writing #sadistic whumper #creepy whump #intimate whump

[superbadassnatural]

A Night to Remember

Summary: After downing many shots of whiskey, the boys and Y/N find themselves having fun with a “teenage game”. Yep, Sam, Dean, and Cas get to play truth or dare. Square filled: Crossdressing Pairing: Dean x Reader; if you squint, you’ll find slightly implied Sam x Reader and Dean x Castiel Word count: 1,482 Warnings: implied smut, mentions of kinks, masturbation and threesome, goofy TFW A/N: this was written for @spntfwbingo​​. Hope you enjoy it.

(x)

After many shots of whiskey and some of tequila — which only you drank —, you, your boyfriend Dean, Sam, and Cas were laughing at every and anything as you sat around the map table. Friday night and you all just decided to let loose and get drunk.

“Okay, okay,” you gushed between giggles as the three of them tried to calm down after one of Cas’ jokes. “I think we should play truth or dare.”

“Y/N-“ Sam started but you quickly interrupted him.

“C’mon, Sammy,” you whined. “It’ll be fun!”

“I’m with Y/N on that,” Dean added, patting your thigh.

“So who wants to start?” none of them answered. “Alrighty, I’ll go,” you rolled your eyes. “Sammy, truth or dare?

“Truth.”

“Which one of us do you think has the worst fashion sense?”

“Cas,” he giggled. Castiel stared at him, clearly offended. “C’mon man, you wear the same clothes every day.”

The room filled with laughter.

“Alright, my turn,” Cas leaned on the table. “Dean, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“When was the last time you peed in bed?”

“I have never peed in bed,” he exclaimed. Wide jade eyes staring back at the angel. Sam scoffed a laugh. “What are you laughing at? It’s true.”

“No, it isn’t. You were twelve, man. At least that’s the last time I saw you wake up on a wet mattress.”

“That wasn’t pee, Sammy,” a smirk appearing on Dean’s lips.

“Of course it was,” Sam gave his brother his best bitch face. “It smelled like pee, Dean.”

“Okay, okay,” he grumbled with a roll of his eyes. “But don’t you ever tell this to anyone,” he pointed his finger to each of you. “Y/N, truth or dare?”

“Since you boys are too coward to pick dare, I’ll do it,” you snapped. “Dare me, Winchester,” you winked at him, trying to give him a sensual look, but making a total fool of yourself.

“I dare you, sweetheart, to have a teaspoon of ghost pepper,” he wiggled his brows at you.

“Okay,” you tried to sound natural as a shiver ran down your spine.

He ran to the kitchen and got back with a generous teaspoon of ghost pepper and a glass of milk. You frowned. Why did he bring you a glass of milk instead of water?

“Water only spreads the heat. Milk helps,” he said as if he was able to read your mind. “Alright, open up.”

Once the pepper hit your tastebuds, your whole body was on fire. Sweat broke on your forehead. Grimacing, you swallowed it all. Dean removed the spoon from your mouth, trying his best not to laugh or he would find himself in some serious trouble.

“Gosh, this is horrible,” you managed to say as you reached for the glass of milk, chugging it down. “Whoa this actually works.”

And the game moved on.

“So Cas, say something dirty to the person in front of you,” Sam challenged Cas.

“Dean, I think you’d look really nice on my angel blade,” Cas said in all seriousness while he narrowed his eyes at the hunter.

You and Sam completely lost it. You were almost knocked out of your chair. Sam was laughing hysterically and could barely catch his breath. Cas’ line was golden and Dean’s reaction was priceless. His eyes were totally wide and his eyebrows were shot up and his mouth had an “o” shape. He did not expect that. Neither of you did.

“Cas, you’re awesome,” you managed to say between giggles as you fanned at yourself. Happy tears were prickling in your eyes. “Alright. Sam, truth or dare?”

“Truth,”

“Do you have any kinks, Samuel?” you wiggled your brows. An asymmetric grin making its way to your lips. “If you do, then share with us.” Sam sighed.

“I do actually,” he shrugged. “Bondage, voyeurism, and edging.”

“Didn’t need to know that,” Dean muttered, taking a swig of his beer.

“Not gonna lie, those are some of my favorites too,” you winked.

The game went on and Dean found himself with four ice cubes inside his boxers after his brother dared him. Cas let you draw a dick on his flushed cheek, so now every time you looked at him, you couldn’t keep a straight face. Eventually, the boys figured out that once your mom caught you masturbating, and apparently Sam’s top three turn-ons were: playing with his hair, wearing red and striptease. Dean now doesn’t want you to wear anything read near Sam.

“Which of us would you like to kiss, sweetheart?” Dean asked you.

“You, of course,” you pecked his lips. “See, just did that.”

“Aside from me,”

“I’d kiss any of them, but I’m gonna go with Sam. ‘Cause then I’ll be able to say I’ve had a taste of both Winchester’s.”

“Is that on your bucket list or something?” Sam asked.

“It can be if you want to.” you winked.

“Dean, what’s a secret you’ve never told Y/N?” Cas asked and your boyfriend cursed under his breath.

“Now that’s interesting.”

“I’ve had a threesome once,” he admitted, taking in the look on your face. “Twice actually,” his hand came up to rub the back of his neck. The tip of his ears turning into a bright shade of red.

“Hmm, that’s sounds like fun. Maybe we should try that sometime, huh?” you winked, a smirk appearing on your lips.

“Nah, I wouldn’t share you with anyone,” he wrapped his arm around you, tugging you to him and kissing the side of your head.

“Now Y/N,” Sam exclaimed, still figuring what dare he could make up for you. “Let us look through your phone for 2 minutes.”

You shrugged, unlocking your phone and handing it to them.

“No one’s gonna look her photos. That’s a no-zone.” Dean announced, making his way to his brother and best friend as they searched through your phone.

They made fun of your texts and your taste for game apps. You’d certainly hear for a long time them mocking you for being on level 474 of Candy Crush. Argh, guilty pleasures…

It was getting really late and you were growing tired. You all decided to go for one last round and call it a night.

“Dean,” Sam started. “You and Y/N are crossdressing.”

“Why do you have to drag me into this?”

“C’mon Y/N/N, it’ll be fun,” he tried to convince you.

You and Dean headed to your shared bedroom. You knew exactly which of his clothes you were going to pick for you. But for him? Dean’s a big guy so your clothes would be a little tight on him.

“Alright, are you guys ready for a show?” you yelled across the hallway. You and Dean were out of the boys’ sight.

You walked down the hall as if you were modeling for Victoria’s Secrets. Except you were on Dean’s denim shorts and his white tank top under his unbuttoned blue flower shirt. To make it even more glamorous, you added his sunglasses and his beige summer hat that covered your messy bun and his gigantic flip-flops.

“So how do I look, boys?” you stopped in front of them. A hand on your hips as you spun for them to have a full glance at your outfit.

“You look awesome, Y/N,” Sam said. “But I have a feeling that two Y/N would fit in there.”

You chuckled.

“Dean, come out, honey,” you called for him.

Dean started to walk down the hall with his head held high. He was feeling as he was a famous top model right now.

The boys completely lost it when they saw him wearing your gray pencil skirt that was a little higher up on his thighs. His bowlegs in full display. He wore a buttoned white shirt that clung too tight to his broad chest. The buttons barely keeping it together. Unfortunately, your pantsuit didn't fit him, so he put on his own FBI suit. You handed him your reading glasses. His plump lips held a vibrant red lipstick. To make him look even better, you had him put on a long, wavy black wig.

“Argh, she’s gorgeous,” you sighed, trying to keep from laughing as he winked at you.

Dean spun for you to see his whole outfit.

“Ah, this is horrible and hilarious at the same time,” Sam chuckled, pulling his phone out to snap as many pictures as he could of his brother.

You joined Dean in front of the camera. Striking many silly poses. Dean still tried not to make any crude movements that could tear your skirt apart.

The sound of your mixed waves of laughter and giggles filled the war room. All four of you were having so much fun that you managed to forget what was going on outside these walls. You were having fun with your boyfriend and your friends. And God knows how much you all needed that. After you all recover from the pain in the ass hangover tomorrow will bring, you could dig into another case. But for now, you just need to enjoy your time as a family.

I’d love to know what you think of this! You can share your thoughts via reply, reblog or ask. Feedback is appreciated as well as needed ;)

Add yourself to my taglist here!

@katymacsupernatural​

#spntfwbingo #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean fanfiction #supernatural x reader #spn fanfiction #crack #fluff

[supernaturalfreewill]

Words: 2,259 Demon!Dean x Reader Warnings: None really! A/N: This is part of a series! Read the other parts first! Part 1 :: Part 2 :: Part 3 :: Part 4 :: Part 5 :: Part 6.

Your name: submit What is this?

Dean stretched his arms up over his head and you shifted beside him in the bed, looking up at his green eyes. “Goddamn…” he let out a gruff laugh. He looked down at you and curled you into him again, his fingers landing lightly on your lower back.

You smiled up at him. “Well… now what?” you asked.

“Hmm. I could go for a nice, hot shower,” he said. He raised his eyebrows at you. “Care to join me?” he asked with a broad grin.

You laughed at him and adjusted the pillow beneath your head, sliding your arms underneath. “Maybe next time,” you laughed. “I’m just gonna relax for a few more.”

“Suit yourself! I’ll miss you in there,” he said, giving you one last fiery look before tossing the sheets off and planting his feet on the floor. He headed into the bathroom and you watched him turn on the water and disappear behind the shower curtain.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Sam startled, shooting straight up in his bed.

Bang. Bang. Bang. The sound reverberated through the entire building. It was travelling down the hallway and through the walls… echoing in the vents even.

He grabbed his pistol off the nightstand and his feet hit the cold tile floor. He was wide awake. He corned out into the hallway, clearing each direction before he rushed toward the sound.

Cas and Crowley intercepted him in the front room of the bunker. They were both staring up the metal staircase toward the heavy, metal door to outside.

”What is that?” Sam asked, his gun still pointed up in the direction of the sound.

Cas’s eyes were narrowed and veiled in a heavy shadow. He didn’t take his eyes off the door.

Crowley was surprisingly stoic, though Sam guessed he was internally worrying about his own skin. He was powerless with the demon cuffs still on his wrist.

The last echoes had faded away and the trio continued to stare at the door. Sam’s heart was pounding in his chest. He was waiting with baited breath for the whole wall to crack open, or for the floor beneath them to drop out—something.

But instead… a cell phone ring cracked through the silence.

Sam looked incredulously at Crowley.

”Crowley, what did you do?” Sam demanded.

The King of Hell looked affronted. “What did I do?! When could I possibly have arranged anything?! Feathers and I are basically bosom buddies at this point! When would I have the time and means to plot!? And what am I meant to have planned?!” His cell phone continued to ring. Sam admitted that the demon actually looked disconcerted.

”So, you’re saying your cell phone ringing after whatever the hell that was is a coincidence?” Sam asked. Another ring.

”I’m quite sure it’s not a coincidence, but I didn’t bloody well arrange it,” Crowley snarled back.

Cas had been watching this exchange with serious concentration but now he plunged his hand into the demon’s jacket pocket and grabbed the ringing phone.

“Hey--! I’m really not interested in you like that, Castiel!” Crowley objected.

Sam rolled his eyes. The angel answered the call and put it on speakerphone.

”Hello,” he said.

There was a crackle of static. “Knock knock.”

Cas’s eyes shot up to meet Sam’s, which were wide and frantic. “Dean?”

“Are you going to let me in or do you really want to test out the home base against a Knight of Hell?” Dean’s voice asked.

Sam’s mouth fell open and his mind was whirring. “Uhh—what—why are you here? What do you want?”

There was a heavy sigh. “Open the goddamn door. I’m not here to murder you.”

Cas’s cobalt eyes squinted at the phone, puzzled. “Then why are you here?”

“Oh, I can’t decide on which suit to buy and I want Crowley’s opinion,” he said sarcastically. “I’m here about Y/N! What the hell do you think?” His irritation was growing.

Sam looked frantically at Cas and Crowley who both looked at a loss. Finally he just went for it. “Okay. Uhh… okay. Hang on. I’ll—I’ll come let you in.”

Cas hung up the call and Crowley looked at Sam in disbelief. “You can’t be serious, Moose!”

“We all agreed that if we’re going to fix this we can’t do it alone. Let’s see why he’s here,” he said. “Besides, he has a point! I’m pretty sure if he really wants to get in, he’ll find a way to get in. We should probably be grateful he knocked at all!”

The handcuffs on Crowley’s wrists clinked. “It should be obvious! He wants to rip me apart atom by atom for what I did. Last time he saw me he wanted to flay me alive! You’re not letting him in here with these bloody cuffs on me. I won’t be able to do anything to defend myself!”

“What a shame,” Cas said, glaring at the demon.

Crowley huffed at Cas’s response. “Moose. Moose, be reasonable!” Crowley urged.

Sam was already climbing the metal stairs to open the door. “This whole situation is completely UNreasonable! We’re not taking the cuffs off you, and I’m opening the door!” Sam put his pistol away, but he had a hand on the hilt of his demon knife and he grabbed the doorknob. He forced out an exhale and Cas nodded in confirmation that he was ready. “Whatever happens...” Sam pulled the door open.

Dean was standing there, casually leaning against the doorframe like he was waiting to get into a crowded bar.

Sam stared at him warily and gulped at the lump in his throat. His heart was whirring asymmetrically with anxiety. Seeing Dean actually standing there, there in front of him, was like a kick in the gut.

”Hiya, Sammy,” Dean said, flashing a wide smile at his little brother. “Long time no see, kiddo.” He patted Sam on the shoulder as he strolled in past him.

Sam was suddenly numb. He watched Dean stroll down the stairs and casually walk up to Cas, planting his feet in front of him and looking the angel over.

“Hi, Cas. Gotta say, it’s a little weird being able to see the wings and the whole deal you’ve got goin’ on in there.”

Cas’s expression was almost pained as he looked at Dean. Sam’s footsteps echoed down the stairs as Dean turned his eyes to Crowley, who stood there trying to conceal the fact that he was cuffed by hiding partially behind the angel.

Dean’s smirk diminished. “Crowley, Crowley, Crowley… Nice bracelets.”

“Now, Dean… now… let’s be reasonable—“

“At this point that word is no longer in my vocabulary,” he said. “Just be glad that I haven’t quite decided how to best torture you. Whether I’m going to pluck off the limbs of your meatsuit one by one like an insect or skin you alive piece by piece or perhaps turn you inside out and—“

Sam was staring wide-eyed at the visage of his brother and interrupted. “Dean—what the hell is going on? Why are you here?”

“I told you. I’m here about Y/N,” he said, turning his attention away from Crowley enough to let the King of Hell breathe a sigh of relief.

“You’re going to need to give us more details than that,” Cas said, still looking at Dean warily and with an expression that belied his pain and mistrust.

Sam caught a flash of an odd expression on Dean’s face. “…what happened?”

Dean avoided his brother’s eyes for a moment and chewed his bottom lip, wondering how best to answer that question. He tried to keep his posture broad and confident but it was going to be difficult. How much exactly should he tell them?

Sam was now even more sure. “Something did happen. What’s going on? You saw Y/N?”

This elicited a cynical laugh. “Yeah. Yeah… Oh, I saw Y/N alright,” Dean said, pulling out a nearby chair and leaning back, propping his boots up on the table.

Cas’s eyes were narrowed and intense. “What does that mean? Where is she?”

Dean pointed at Cas, “That—that I no longer know.”

Sam felt that familiar defeating, sinking feeling in his stomach. “So, why are you here? What do you know?”

Dean let out a heavy sigh and looked down at his hands clasped on his lap. The silence stretched for a long moment until he reached a hand into his coat.

Cas had an angel blade drawn in a split second.

”Whoa, whoa! Stop!” Sam yelled. Dean looked only mildly amused and withdrew his cell phone from the interior pocket, holding it up to show the angel and his brother who instantly relaxed somewhat.

”Take it easy, fellas.” He grinned when he saw Crowley cowering behind Cas. “Come on out, Crowley. You’re definitely going to want to hear this.” Dean tapped on his screen a few times and then your voice began to ring out from the speaker.

“Dean. Do me a favor and pass this on to Crowley; if you need to find me—I’ll be running Hell.” Click.

There was a silence where the air seemed to be pulsating with everyone’s disbelief.

Sam’s eyes were wide and angry and perplexed all at once and he turned them to Dean. “Dean—what the hell happened?” he demanded. “What did you do?”

Crowley’s face was red with rage but he too seemed to sense they were all missing a large part of the story. “Yes, Dean. Tell us exactly what you did to drive Y/N RIGHT INTO HELL’S OPEN DOORS!” The metal of the cuffs on his wrists vibrated and clinked with his apoplectic outburst, but Dean simply rolled his eyes.

”What did I do? Really? Really, Crowley? If your dumbass hadn’t turned her we wouldn’t be having this goddamn problem!”

”Alright! Enough!” Sam yelled over the two demons. He shot a look of incredulity back at Dean. “Why would she suddenly decide, after months of destroying every little demon underling in her path, to take up the torch and run Hell? What the hell precipitated this!? Crowley has a point!” Sam’s mouth hung open but Dean offered nothing.

Cas noted how he was avoiding Sam’s eyes. Dean’s jaw clenched. He spoke up. “It doesn’t matter why. It matters that she’s made this decision. Now we have to move forward and figure out what we’re going to do about it.”

Sam slumped back to lean on the table and Dean seemed to be studying his clasped hands again, his phone still clutched between them.

”And we better all get used to the idea of working together,” Cas growled. “Because if that message is true, it’s going to take all of us to bring Y/N home.” Cas grabbed Crowley, who was still red-faced and glaring furiously at Dean, by the arm and began to lead him back into the bunker toward the Devil’s Trap room.

Sam watched them go, shaking his head a little to himself. He glanced over at his brother, looking so much the same but completely different. He felt suddenly sick. “I’m going to bed,” he said. “And I’ll be warding my room,” he added for good measure.

Dean laughed a little gruffly to himself. “No need, Sammy. I’ve got other priorities at the moment.” He sat there alone, spinning his phone in his hand while Sam’s footsteps faded down the hall.

At length, Cas returned sans Crowley to find Dean alone.

Dean looked up when he sense the angel standing close by. He could feel Cas’s shocking blue eyes fixated on him, and the angel’s expression was a soft frown. “What?” Dean prompted.

Cas found it painful to look at his friend so changed. “Would you like to talk about what actually happened? With Y/N?”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, but Cas noted that he didn’t rebuke him.

“I know there’s something,” Cas said. “There’s something there. There has always been. And even now.”

Dean’s eyes shot up to the angel’s face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Dean…” Cas wanted so desperately to unearth that thread, that golden thread that was still woven into his heart. He felt like if he could just get a hold of it and pull it… more of the old Dean would be pulled to the surface. Even in the darkest heart there is some strand of good, a strand of love and memory. A strand that marks a hole yearning to be filled or a desire of the purest kind. Some would call it a weakness, perhaps, but Cas saw it as Dean’s way back.

Dean averted his eyes to the floor, dropped his boots off the table and leaned his elbows on his knees, looking down at his phone in his hand. “I—I know it was real.”

Cas waited in silence for him to continue.

“I know it was real. But then—“ and he glanced up at Cas and the angel saw desperation in his eyes. What a shock it is to see desperation in the eyes of a Knight of Hell—and not desperation for sex or power or violence—it was the same desperation he had seen in Dean’s eyes when he was just Dean.

He was still in there. In there with that golden thread.

#supernaturalfreewill #demon!dean #deamon #demon!dean x reader #reader insert #dean winchester #squirrel #dean imagines #dean fanfics #dean x reader #spn #spn fanfics #spn imagines #gif imagines #supernatural #team free will

[shadestoryofficial]

Chapter 5 - Class in Session

I was back in the flowery meadow again, the pitch-black sky still looming overhead. There seemed to be more flowers than before, each different than the last. Fire surrounded the clearing, but I wasn’t worried for some reason. It was calming now, like I was sitting next to a fireplace, drinking cocoa in the middle of a snowstorm.

I heard a voice, muffled as if she was speaking underwater. I tried to ask who she was, but no sound came from my throat. I heard a pensive hum as if the voice were deciding what to do.

Before anything more could happen, the flames began to die down and the flowers began to retreat into the ground. I was waking up. We were not able to speak this time, a calm voice echoed. But we will soon.

*     *     *     *     *

I woke up, stretched out on a soft couch, the light of dawn streaming directly into my eyes. In front of me were two boys. One was the blacksmith from earlier. He was in what looked like a kitchen, making a drink with his back to me. He had his jacket on, the fur lining almost up to his ears, and he had taken his gloves off. He turned around, his eyes revealed to me. His left eye was a flame-like scarlet, his right eye a steel-grey.

“Tea’s done,” he said, handing a mug to the other boy, who was lazily strewn sideways across a chair.

The other boy had quite an odd look to him. His pale skin was nearly transparent. He had shaggy, dark purple hair, a platinum-blond streak fully covering his right eye. His left eye, which was visible, was blood red and had deep bags beneath it. He didn’t look too old, maybe 19, but his eyes looked like they had seen the beginnings of days, the middles of dynasties, and the ends of lifetimes. The boy seemed rather lean and bony, like a flexible skeleton, and was shorter than both me and the blacksmith. He seemed vaguely familiar.

Balanced on the bridge of his nose was a pair of black, bottom-rimmed glasses, partially concealed beneath his hair. He wore a dark-green trench coat over a thin, cool-grey shirt. A glove that seemed to be made from the same material covered his right hand. Rust-colored sweat-pants stretched over his legs, and black leather shoes kicked idly. A mauve scarf wrapped around his neck and mouth.

He had been watching me with mild interest but turned his head to accept the cup from the blacksmith. As the blacksmith handed off the tea, I caught a glimpse of his left palm, a Token glowing faintly.

This Token was a common one, “fire”. Anyone with it could create bursts of flames, heat objects just by holding them, and even sometimes control fire into swirling shapes.

The boy took the cup, moved his scarf down to take a sip, then turned back to me. “Welcome back to the world of the living,” he said. I wasn’t focused on his words, but his voice, his voice was tired, as if he didn’t have any energy left in his body. A slight, unrecognizable but old accent, tinged in his words. It had taken me until I had heard his voice to realize two things:

1: This was the boy who I had seen just before falling.

2: He was identical to Zack.

I remember watching cartoons as a kid. Every episode, the villains would show up in a wacky costume to fool the hero. The hero never saw through it until the end, but I would shout at my screen, seeing through the shoddy disguise. Surely, anyone watching me had been shouting much the same.

I hadn’t noticed until just now because most of his face was obscured. The voice was the same, though. He may have been missing the mischievous glee, and his voice was slightly deeper, but it was definitely the same as Zack’s. 

Was this some weird disguise? He had escaped due to an explosion. Was the blacksmith the one who had caused it? Why bring me here then, and have me wake up to them in disguise? Were they toying with me?

I shot up from the sofa and reached above my head to ready my HALO, but I only grasped air. Zack had repositioned himself in the chair to be sitting straight. He was watching me with interest in his eyes, and, from the way his cheek tugged slightly upwards, a smirk on his face.

“I’d recommend you calm down,” he said. “You might break something.”

I glanced around the room, looking for an exit. Through the kitchen was a door, but I would have to make it past the blacksmith. Zack was still calmly drinking his tea. I pushed off with my legs, sprinting towards the door. I ducked under the blacksmith’s arm, now ablaze, and thought I was out. Then, a frying pan knocked my legs out from under me.

“Sorry, man, but you gotta calm down,” the blacksmith was looking down at me on the floor. “We just need to talk.” He lifted me bridal-style and plopped me on the sofa. 

“Talk?” I was woozy from my head hitting the tiled kitchen floor. “What?”

Zack was still examining me from behind his asinine disguise. “Let’s start with introductions. I’m Xavier, but you can call me X. Who are you?”

I scoffed. “Xavier? Do you think I’m blind? I know that’s you, Zack.”

His eyes narrowed, his voice becoming more serious, “Zack is my twin brother, and despite our being identical twins, I assure you that we couldn’t be more different.”

“Yeah, right. And I’m the king of the lily pads.”

“You can check my upper back if you like. You won’t find the Beneluct no matter how hard you look,” He seemed mildly irritated, and I was skeptical, but I still got up to check his back. I had no clue what a “Beneluct” was, but I was sure that if I checked his back, I would find his Token.

He pulled his coat off from around his shoulders, revealing that his t-shirt was asymmetrical; the right sleeve longer than the left. I tugged the collar of his shirt down, examining his back just below his neck. No Token.

“You really are Zack’s twin brother?” I was bewildered. I went back to sit on the sofa as he nodded. “So what do you want with me?”

Xavier put his coat back on. “I should be asking you that. You’re the one who-”

“Hey! I didn’t get to introduce myself yet,” the blacksmith interrupted. I had already forgotten he was here. “I’m Blaise, Blaise Fierro, nice to meet you. And sorry again for hitting you with the frying pan,” He reached out to shake my hand, revealing the Token on his right palm.

It was another common Token, “metal”, but how did he have two? That isn’t possible. He shook my hand with a strong grip, shaking my arm up and down like cooked spaghetti.

“Ahem,” X cleared his throat. “As I was saying, what do you want with us?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you followed me home after asking everyone in town about X,” Blaise sat in a beanbag chair to the right of me.

“Wait. You’re the Shadow?” I shot up again. “So you are working with Zack!”

“Sit down. No, I’m not,” Xavier waved his hand at me. “I would never work with my brother.”

“But, you worked with him in the Dirillian agency, and you were at the destruction of the embassy that reignited a war!”

“I did work with him before he betrayed me. As for participating in the cataclysm at the embassy, I tried to contain the blast from causing any damage to the surrounding cities,” he replied. Then, in a barely audible whisper, “It wasn’t enough, though…”

“Oh…” I was disappointed, this was the only lead I had on finding Zack. I had failed. I may find him eventually, but not before he caused more mayhem. But then, I realized something. “Wait. If you worked with him, then you might know where he’ll go!”

Blaise made a noise, a confused expression painted across his face. “What do you mean ‘where he’ll go’? He’s been locked up in Prism for centuries.”

X’s eyes widened. “No. He escaped? How?”

“I was there when it happened. One minute I was talking to him in his cell, the next there was a flash of light and I was knocked out.”

“That’s not possible, he had a Blocker! He shouldn’t have been able to use that much power at once!”

“He probably just overpowered it,” I responded.

Xavier looked at me disappointedly. “How much do you know about Tokens and Blockers?”

I thought for a moment. “Well, Tokens were created by ancients who intertwined their souls with the innate magic of the world. After millennia of evolution, the Tokens just kind of became a rare genetic trait. As for Blockers, they interrupt that connection between the Tokened and the world’s magic.”

“That’s an oversimplification,” Xavier said, shaking his head. “You got most of the stuff about Tokens right, but they aren’t wholly genetic. Sure, anyone with a Token can trace their lineage back to that first society of ancients, but the ancients didn’t harness the magic into their souls. It was already there. They just found a way to activate a gene that enables Tokens to be used.

“As for Blockers, they don’t interrupt the connection between a Tokened and magic because it doesn’t exist. Blockers were made to hinder the soul of a Tokened, and therefore any Blocker needs to be custom-made to the Tokened. That’s why Blockers are known to fail; most that are being used are mass-produced instead of being tailored to the Tokened.”

“So, Zack’s Blocker was tailor-made? Then how did he break through it?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” X frowned, seemingly frustrated to have to say that. “He may have been able to emit some light on his own, but not enough to cause damage of any kind.”

“We can worry about how he escaped later!” Blaise shouted. “We should be focusing on finding him!”

“I agree, but speaking with you two has raised more questions than answers,” I said.

“Yes, I understand. ANGEL has gone downhill in the last century,” Xavier responded. “Very well, I’ll answer what I can. I’ll need as much help as I can get to recapture Zack, and it’s better that the questions be answered now than in the middle of a battle.”

Bewildered once again, I stared at him. “Uh, okay. Let’s start with how you know I’m from ANGEL.”

“I was there when it was founded,” He said simply.

“What does that mean? And how are you and your brother alive and young today, but were both involved in a war centuries ago?”

“Ah, our Tokens are responsible for that. Beneluct and Malescambre.”

“What do those mean? Can you please speak Common?”

Xavier sighed. “As I said, ANGEL has gone downhill education-wise the last century. I assume you know that each Token has a name? ‘Fire’, ‘Silence’, ‘Strength’, etcetera? Well, those are all translations, and simple ones at that. The symbols that Tokens manifest in were used as the written language of the ancients.”

He pointed to Blaise, who held out his hands and revealed both his Tokens. “Blaise’s Tokens are ‘fire’ and ‘metal’, but those are just the Common translations of the ancient language. In reality, they are ‘Fign’ and ‘Alfeucre’. Those two translate easily to Common, but others, such as mine and my brother’s, don’t.”

He pushed his hair up, revealing his right eye. It was pitch black, a void of emptiness with a purple symbol appearing to float in the middle.

He moved his hair back over his eye. “My Token, ‘Malescambre’, would likely be translated as ‘shadow’ by most. But in truth, it is a more complex word in ancient: ‘cursed’. Likewise, while most would translate Zack’s Token, ‘Beneluct’ as ‘light’, it is more literally translated to ‘blessed’.”

My head was spinning. I was so confused. “That doesn’t explain how you’ve been alive for so long.”

“Yes, it does. Just think for a moment.”

I shook my head and took a deep breath. “Whatever,” I said. “I’ve only got one question left. Why does he have two Tokens?” I pointed to Blaise, who shrugged.

“Family thing,” he replied. “I don’t pretend to know more than that.”

I looked at X, but he didn’t seem to want to answer. “If that’s all you have, then we should start working on finding Zack,” Xavier interjected. He stood up and began walking towards the other end of the house. Blaise got up and motioned for me to follow.

“How do you propose we do that?” I asked. “You were my last lead. We’d need a psychic to find him.”

X opened a door that led into a greenhouse. He picked up a pot with an odd-looking flower and turned to me and Blaise. “It’s a good thing we have four.”

#shade #shadestory #shade story #ShadeChapter #ShadeChapterFive #original story #fantasy

[aziraamane]

Human AU - Part 2

(Previous) - (Next)

"Shit shit shit shit shit, why me?!" Crowley spat as he ripped off his tie, for the millionth time. He left it hanging round his neck while he reached for his glass of wine, sitting on the vanity, and drained it in two long gulps. In the background, Adam was shouting, presumably throwing a tantrum at having to stay behind. That was Anathema's problem now - the nanny - not his.

"Fucking memorial dinner," he hissed at his reflection, "as if the bastard needs remembering, I swear to - " The door to his room swung open, and he snapped his head around, snarled, "What?!"

It was Anathema, regarding him coolly from behind her huge, round glasses. She was a wiry-looking girl, long-faced and freckled, and always dressed like she was due at a medieval reenactment event in need of a spare witch. In her arms she held a struggling, red-faced Adam. "Your limo's here."

"'S'not my limo." He turned back to the mirror, fingers tangled up in his tie. "Tell ‘em I'll be down in a minute." 

"I told them ten minutes," replied Anathema. "So that - Adam, please can we stop with the temper tantrum?"

"It's not fair, I wanna go, too!" Adam shouted. 

"You know your uncle will be out late, and you, young man, need your sleep, otherwise how will you ever be big and strong enough to rule the world?" That made Adam stop fretting, and he looked up at Anathema with wide eyes. "Tell you what," she carried on, "if we have no more shouting, and you tidy up your toys, I'll read you those stories about the Kraken at bedtime. How does that sound?"

"Awesome!" Adam laughed and shot off back towards the sitting room like a rocket. 

Crowley exhaled a deep breath. "You're a lifesaver, Ana."

"I'm not paid nearly enough for putting up with your crap is what I am." Anathema's tone was deceptively good-natured as she stepped over the various discarded tuxedos and shoes littering the bedroom floor. She gently slapped Crowley's hands away from his throat, took the tie, and began knotting it herself. "Adam's lonely," she said. "I'm sure he'd love to spend more time with you."

"I know," he muttered, guilty. Her dark eyes bore into his, bare as they were without his sunglasses; he looked away on instinct. "It's just…"

"I know," she echoed. "This dinner, it's for his dad, isn't it? I understand, it's best he isn't there. Still...too recent, I suppose. There, how's that?" She smoothed her fingers down the finished tie and tucked it into place.

Crowley glanced in the mirror, nodded. "Thanks."

"Are you okay?" Anathema knelt to pick up the stray clothes from the carpet, folding them before setting them on the bed. 

"I'm fine. 100%. Fucking smashing. Why wouldn't I be?"

Anathema raised one slender eyebrow. "Because you hate practically everyone in your family and turn into a seething mess every time you have to attend an event with them?"

"Ah yeah, that does sound like me, doesn't it." Crowley pulled back his hair into a half-updo and twisted a few strands to hang in front of his ears. 

"And your brother, well. You never got on."

"Can't imagine why," muttered Crowley. 

"Anthony." Anathema picked up the sunglasses lying on the bedside table, handed them to him, and nodded as he slipped them into place. "You don't have to be at their beck and call every time they snap their fingers."

He just shrugged. "'S'all I know how to do." Outside, the limo honked its horn. "Ahh, for fucks' sake. Right, I'm off. You know the drill, I'll call you when I'm on my way back."

Anathema bobbed her head. "See you tonight."

Crowley had just enough time for a quick fist bump with Adam, before clattering off, drunk as he was, down the stairs of the apartment complex. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped the limo would drive off without him, but it never did.

~*~

Morning rolled around, and as Warlock, still in his pyjamas, eagerly tucked into his breakfast, Ezra reclined in his chair and read the newspaper. Introvert though he was, he did like to keep up with current world events.

"...held in honour of Lucifer Crowley, who died aged 43 last year in a-"

"That's Adam's uncle's name, isn't it?" Warlock asked, mouth full of cornflakes. 

Ezra blinked over the top of his glasses, then huffed out an irritated breath at having been reading aloud. "Yes, that's right," he said, reaching for his mug of English Breakfast tea. "Well, it's the family name, like ours is Fell." 

Warlock's surname had been Dowling before his adoption, but he was too young to remember any of that, and Ezra hadn't quite plucked up the nerve to talk to him about it yet. When he was older, maybe. "I like Adam," the boy remarked, "and he says funny things, like about a city in the sea, and angels and demons-"

"It sounds as though he has a very active imagination."

"It's all real, he says!"

Ezra chuckled softly. Children had such innocent, yet powerful minds. "Eat up, darling, and then let's get you into your uniform." 

"Okay, dad."

Dad. Ezra would never tire of hearing that. He gave Warlock a fond pat on the head and went back to reading his paper. 

At the school gates, there was no sign of Crowley, or his Bentley, but a young woman in an asymmetric, tie-dye dress was kneeling to chat with Adam as she straightened the collar of his shirt. Warlock ran up to them, open-mouthed. 

"Hey, who are you?" he demanded.

Ezra was by his side in a flash, mortified. "Warlock!" he chastised. "Kindly apologise to the lady!"

To his surprise, she smiled. "It's okay, really. Oh, I'm Adam's nanny - Anathema Device, you can call me Ana if that's easier."

"What's a nanny?" Warlock frowned.

"I look after Adam when his uncle has a lot to do," she explained. "He's not feeling well at the minute, so I've brought Adam to school today."

The boys ran ahead, leaving Ezra and Anathema. He gestured, and they followed, albeit at a slower pace. "I did wonder if he had, ahem, outside help," Ezra admitted. "Still, he's always here, and usually on time, too."

"Yeah, he's always made sure he can get Adam to and from school, but last night was hectic, and I told him to rest." 

"You've worked for him since he adopted Adam?"

"Um, a few months after, I think." 

"And you say he isn't well? Poor boy."

Anathema peered quizzically at Ezra. "You're Mr Fell, aren't you. Anthony's mentioned you before."

"Oh, my." Ezra had the grace to blush. Anthony. It was always “AJ” in the papers. He’d had no idea it was short for anything. "Dare I ask how you knew it was me?"

"Single guy, blonde; walks, talks, and dresses like an old gay man, calls everyone "dear?""

Defeated, he chuckled. "Yes, that does rather sound like me." He held out his hand, which Anathema shook politely. "Call me Ezra."

"Ezra." She appeared to be sampling the name in her mouth, rolling it around on her tongue. "Well, it's nice to meet you -" The bell rang inside and she jumped. "Oh, I should go check where Adam's run off to - um, nice to meet you - again - see you!" She gathered up her skirts and hurried away after Adam. 

What a nice girl.

Warlock came running back down the steps. "Dad! Catch up!"

"O-Oh, yes. Jolly good, darling! Yes, I'm on my way."

#tia-lew writes #fanfiction #good omens #ineffable husbands #work in progress #writing #fanfic excerpt

[rosesisupposes]

Someone New

I tried something I’ve never written before: a first-person POV from my favorite son. 

I love and relate very strongly to the Hozier’s Someone New. And I love Roman with all my heart. 

[[There was a tumblr post many moons ago that lodged in my brain and inspired this in some part, but I can’t find it again for the life of me. If you remember it too and can find it, I will be in your debt <3]]

read on ao3

word count: 800

pairing: Roman-centric DELAMPS [Deceit, Emile, Logan, Virgil, Patton, Remy, Roman]

warnings: Deceit; disaster gays;

reader tags: @residentanchor @royally-anxious @bewarethegrammarpolice @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby  @sparkly-rainbow-salt @astral-eclipse​ @thelowlysatsuma @adorably-angsty 

thank you to @potestessemagishomosexualitatis for beta-ing 💖💖💖

~~~~~~~~~~

Would things be easier if there was a right way? Honey, there is no ‘right’ way

Haven’t you seen how wonderful people can be? And you haven’t gone head over heels for them? 

I do. Over and over. 

I watch the way that one man on the subway bites his lip as he reads his book, forehead furrowed in concentration. His long hair is tied back into a neat bun that is falling apart more and more each time he runs a hand through it. Tiny flyaway hairs are fanning out around his face, a brunette halo around my subway angel’s head. I ache to smooth the wrinkles out of his face as I listen to everything Book Man has been reading and learning. I imagine his voice, low and rich, twining through sedate evenings lit by candles and hearthfire. 

I see a man light up and slow his gait as he passes a dog park, his mouth moving in silent greetings to each and every animal behind the fence. Dog Man smothers a giggle watching a dalmation trip over a chihuahua, and the sound is like silver bells ringing in my heart. I want to hear about every dog that greeted Dog Man on his walk today while I trace my fingers down those dalmatian-like freckles that cover his face. I want to hear his giggle over and over again, dancing through dappled sunlight of lazy afternoons.

A man in a hoodie and headphones doesn’t dance to the music in his ears, but the little twitches in his smile and the tiny bops of his head show just how much he's lost himself in the song. I want more than anything to see what happens when he lets loose. I want to see that small smirk bloom and grow into a brilliant grin, to see those tiny movements stretch into carefree twirls and twists. I hope there’s an audience for when Hoodie Man loses his self-consciousness and serenades his apartment at midnight, singing every part and the guitar solos too.

It’s not always instantaneous, though. Sometimes, it takes time. 

I’ve been passing the rude, scowling punk near my theatre for weeks before the day a frog gets stranded on the sidewalk and I see the leather-clad man kneeling, talking so quietly I can barely hear it. When I finally walk close enough, I hear a steady stream of calm reassurance.  "It's okay, little one, this is just water for you, okay? I don't want you to dehydrate. just hop on in- that's right, there you go! Okay, I'm going to carry you to the woods, there's a pond there, is that where you came from? I hope it's your true home, I'll get you back, I promise."  The midday sun glints off the man’s metal spikes and studs and catches in dyed-yellow locks. For once, I can see both eyes, revealed from behind the bangs and hat the man always wears. I wonder what else makes Frog Punk go so tender and soft.

The person at the coffee shop is almost too cheerful each morning. It grates on my night-owl tendencies - it’s unnatural to be that awake when the sun is barely awake! I’m all for disney and cartoons but greeting the whole shop with "Good MORNING Krusty Krew!" every day is a little much. Then, today, it doesn't come. The pastels enter as normal, but the smile above them looks forced and strained. I catch myself staring until I recognize the hum of tension in the other's bones and frame. A new necklace is nestled in the vee of the perpetual cardigan. And today it holds a bright purple tag that reads "xe/xir." My heart swells with empathy and admiration for xir bravery, and I make sure to catch xir eyes with a warm smile as we wait for our drinks. The smile I get back is far more grateful than I deserve, but warms me more than any latte ever could.

And, sometimes, it comes on faster than I ever thought was possible.

I walk down the street, listening to some new music a friend recommended. I look down for just a moment, to check the song name, and immediately run into a warm body. I almost trip, but my gaze from the ground up to single raised eyebrow takes in beautiful ankle boots, an asymmetrical skirt, and a crop top so short it makes me want to cry. By the time I meet the startling green eyes peering at me from behind heart-shaped sunglasses, I’m utterly speechless.  "You Gucci, babes?" "...’m gay. I mean great!"

I fall in love with strangers’ eyes, and quirks, and smiles. It doesn’t always last - I might never even meet them properly. But why should that mean these affections and infatuations are any less real?

#roses writes fanfic #my smol drama son #roman sanders #first person POV #writing in first person is new #disaster gays #DELAMPS #roman x everyone #roman loves everyone #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton #ts virgil #ts deceit #ts emile #ts remy

[rnufharose]

Chapter 20

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: None

︻デ═一 ♥

"I'm so glad you asked me to tag along with you," Irene smiled from ear to ear as she walked a few steps ahead of Sehun, who exhaled sharply.

After he left the Kim Estate, he was headed to the Lotte World Mall to find a dress for Haneul, but then Irene gave him a call and when he told her he was going to find the girl a dress, the older women decided to take it upon herself to join him.

"You didn't ask though," Sehun replied, looking around the shopping outlets. "I can find a dress on my own, you know. I have good taste in clothes, you can't deny that."

"You're just going to pick out something slutty," she teased and the younger male stammered, coming to a halt.

"Noona! I would never!" He protested, taking offense to her words. He could never look at Haneul like that. He loved how cute and innocent she looked. He didn't dare think about the amount of skin he wanted to see from her, but as he followed after Irene, something within him changed. He recalled the night she sang at The Magic Shop, how long and slender her legs looked, the way her thin, petite frame curved in all the right places. Her skin looked so soft to the touch, and it stirred a feeling of wonder as to what she might look like under those dresses she wore--under the shirts and jeans she sported casually, under the t-shirt and jogging sweats she wore at home... Dammit, Sehun shook his head to rid himself of such naughty thoughts. Now's not the time to think about that!

"Excuses, excuses," Irene sang, still playing around with him until she came across PINKO, an Italian fashion brand targetted toward women, known for its wide selection of dresses, blouses, and coats. She walked into the store and Sehun followed behind, watching her sift through several dresses on the rack. "No... not that one... ew," she scrunched her nose, and Sehun agreed, but not about that one dress she disliked suddenly.

The whole rack she was looking through was disgusting. "Noona, I can find her something, trust me."

"You know I can't leave anything to you," she said, and she grabbed a black dress with a conservative high laced collar and cuffs, long sleeves, and buttons running along the front. "This is good! That way you won't look at her like you're about to eat a meal."

"She's going to a party, not Church!" the raven-haired male exclaimed.

"What's wrong with dressing up as a Church girl?" the older women cocked an eyebrow. "I thought you were the more religious one out of the other members of EXO."

"Oh please, I may read the Bible but I'm a sinner with blood on my hands," Sehun grunted. He reached for the dress, gently taking it from her and setting it on the rack. "Trust me, Noona. I can find her an appropriate dress. Just let me do it."

Irene stared at him for several moments before huffing, nodding with defeat and allowing to find a dress for Haneul, "Alright... I'll put my trust in you. Go ahead and look around," she gestured toward the rest of the store, and he gave her a small smile, bowing his head graciously and walking deeper into the store.

Sehun looked around carefully, scanning the dresses on the other racks, but nothing seemed to catch his eye. There were evening dresses with low-cut fronts which he didn't find decent, nor did he like ones that were too short and would make Haneul uncomfortable. She wore skater dresses to work, so those were out of the question, and others were just as conservative as what Irene showed him before.

"There has to be something," he mumbled, moving toward the side, and passing by several blouses and overcoats until he came across a rack that had one dress left. He came to a halt and inspected it, lips parted and eyes widening slightly as he took it in.

It had a sleeveless black lace bodice with a round collar that ended mid-waist with abstract patterns. The skirt was pleated and asymmetrical, a soft cherry blossom pink, and he could only imagine how beautiful Haneul would look in it. He had never seen her wear a soft color like pink. It would probably go well with her pale skin and brown hair. He reached for the dress, smiling with satisfaction and making his way back toward Irene, who was busy looking at some dresses for herself.

"You found something?" She asked when she heard his footsteps.

"Yup," he answered, holding up the dress. "Take a look."

The older woman faced him, inhaling when she saw the dress. It was a stark contrast from what she had initially picked, but at the same time, she expected no less from Sehun. The dress was beautiful but appropriate enough so that other men wouldn't think twice about laying eyes on Haneul, and the color would go well with her. "This is Irene-approved," she raised her head, meeting his dark gaze. "we can buy this dress for her."

Sehun breathed a sigh of relief, giving her a nod. Now that it was approved by her, he didn't have to think about traversing the whole mall to find the perfect dress for Haneul. "Thank God. Now, let's pay for this quickly and head to Louis Vuitton. I need another suit."

︻デ═一 ♥

Life had returned to The Magic Shop as more customers walked through the door. Haneul and the boys were dressed in white, getting ready for a brand new performance—something little more seductive and sensual, but it would be a decent performance nonetheless. Once they took the stage, they got into position with Jimin in the center, and he began to sing, the choreography synchronized, as usual, their gazes piercing into the men and women—mostly women—who watched their performance in awe. It was time for the rap line to take the stage, singing the first bridge after the hook.

[Suga, RM, J-Hope]

My blood, sweat, and tears

My body, mind, and soul

I know well they're all yours

This is a spell that will punish me

Peaches and cream

Sweeter than sweet

Chocolate cheeks

And chocolate wings

But your wings are the devil's

There is a 'bitter' next to your 'sweet'

Kiss me, it's okay if it hurts

Just make it as tight

As that I can't feel the pain anymore

Baby, it's okay if I get drunk

I'll drink you in deep now

Deep into my throat

The whiskey that is you

[V, Haneul, J-Hope]

My blood, sweat, and tears

My last dance too

Take it all away

My blood, sweat, and tears

My cold breath too

Take it all away

I want you more

When the chorus came, the eight of them put as much energy into the dance routine, singing about a temptation that prompted them to sin. One could hear the dreamy sighs of the women in the corner as they eyed the seven males dancing and harmonizing with Haneul. Their visuals and voices had put them in a trance.

[Haneul]

My blood, sweat, and tears

My blood, sweat, and tears...

They finished their performance and the patrons exploded into applause, cheers, and whistles, still fixated on the eight angels on stage, and Haneul was the first to exit the stage. She walked toward the bar where Bella had poured her a whiskey on the rocks, sliding the intricate glass along the counter. "Here you go."

"Thanks," the brunette said before sipping her drink. "It's been so long since I've had one of your drinks."

"Well, you'll be having them again from now on," Bella chuckled.

"I have to go to the back and start cooking for the next customers," Jin gestured as he took off his suit jacket, hanging it to Dawon, who accepted it without question. "We should handle the rest of their orders while Soobin and the others perform their number."

"And in the meantime," Jimin walked up to brunette and wrapping his arm around her shoulder, pinching her cheek playfully. "You are going to tell us more about that Sehun. I want to hear everything." His eye smile was still so bright.

Hoseok took a seat on one of the bar stools, ready to listen as well, "Yes, please tell us! Does he have good marksmanship? Is he rich? Ooh, does he shower you with expensive gifts?"

"One and a time, Hobi," Namjoon held his shoulder and a laugh. "I'm sure he's all of those things and even more."

"I'll say!" Dawon agreed and began to fix up the white lace on the dress Haneul had been wearing. "Did you see the car he pulled up in? How can he not be?!"

"I think you can stop worrying about Neullie now," Yoongi confirmed. "It's obvious she's being taken care of. Sehun may not have the best job on the planet but he's an upright guy if he's protected her for this long."

"You're right, hyung," Jungkook raised his head and looked between then others. "I don't have to worry anymore. And you do look happier, Neullie... you look better than the last time we saw you."

"Do I?" She giggled, bowing thankfully. "Thanks everyone..."

Taehyung has remained silent the whole time, nursing his drink in his hand as he mulled over their words. He still wasn't sure if he should trust a guy like Sehun. After all, it was the mafia that was responsible for the debt his family was in. Granted, it wasn't EXO who was targeting his parents and siblings, but he had a history with the underworld which he wanted to forget and which he didn't want his friends involved in.

"I still don't trust him," Taehyung spoke seriously, facing the others. "He's going to have to convince me that he's protecting her. All those guys in the mafia—they're the same... greedy, murderous, lustful." He put down his empty glass and walked toward the back of the cabaret, and everyone watching with intent, concern on their expression as he left them.

Bella released a sigh, leaving her place behind the bar and following after him until she reached the storage room where the older male was seated on the couch. Taehyung has his shoulders dropped, his head hanging, hands in his lap while pain and anger lined his features. "Taehyung," she began, walking toward him slowly before taking a seat beside him. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he looked at her, his eyes glazed over, tears ready to spill forth. "I know you're in pain... but maybe we can trust him."

"I want to, I really do," he hissed, a tear dropping down his cheek. "But how can I...? What if he asks the same thing from her?! Soon it'll be money, then sex, and then she'll be swallowed up until she can't get out of the darkness!"

"I don't think he's like that," Bella disagreed with him, running her fingers through his long curly blue hair. "You saw him before. He looked very sincere... even when he was asking Neullie to stay with him back then, there were no ill intentions in his voice. He may be in the mafia but he's got a good heart."

"It just scares me to think my friends could possibly be involved," he sighed deeply, turning away to look at the floor. "Just the fact that we know him puts us in danger! And if anything happened to them, and you, I—"

"Kim Taehyung," the silver-haired female squeezed his hand and gave him a reassuring smile. "Nothing is going to happen. Things are going to get better, you'll see. Maybe they already are since Neullie came back to The Magic Shop today. He may be a hitman but you should give Sehun a chance. Who knows? You might find the two of you are a lot similar than you think." She pulled him close, his head resting on her shoulder while she combed through his hair in comfort.

She knew Taehyung would listen to her. He always did. Right now, he just needed to be assured things were going to be alright. She knew he had been having a hard time since a small syndicate had been harassing his family, but he was close to paying off that debt thanks to working at The Magic Shop. He was opening his heart to the pain in order to exchange it for something better.

It wasn't just the customers outside who deserved something better. Even Taehyung needed that. It is with mindfulness and compassion that they opened these doors to the people of Seoul and once day, Taehyung would do the same for Sehun.

Somewhere outside, seated on one of the tables in the back, a pair of red eyes had watched as Taehyung and the silver-haired female walked toward the back of the cabaret. He nursed his drink in his hand, a smirk on his face before he brought the rim to his lips, downing the whiskey in seconds.

He was here to collect.

#romance #eventual fluff #eventual romance #eventual smut #eventual happy ending #exo #sehun #exo sehun #bts #oh sehun

[floggingink]

Riverdale, “Chapter Thirty-Eight: As Above, So Below”

Day At Least Seven Solitary Coif: struggling

Alice’s thigh: stunning

Sexy, aesthetic Southside: FP’s jellybean tattoo: incredibly, tenderly sad

Certified pedigree: “I’m glad the Farm opened you up to the possibility of us”: either Alice thought about this to herself, or she (absolutely) asked the rest of her cult what they thought. what they THOUGHT about her sleeping with FP again. “What d’you think, girls?” Alice wine clubbed FP Jones’s dick!

who has more game, FP or Jughead? FP a) is a grown man, b) is oftentimes gainfully employed (I’ve forgotten if he’s employed right now), c) is strong enough to carry a high school boy out of the woods, d) was VERY smooth with his seemingly instinctual “Then don’t. Tell him,” e) did that thing where he took the gum out of his mouth when Alice came to his trailer, and f) looked pretty good in his crisp Pop’s uniform when he was employed at Pop’s. however FP also a) tends to drink when not employed and b) is fucking obsessed with Toledo, a town I will burn to the ground if I ever set foot in it. meanwhile, Jughead a) climbed up a fucking ladder to Betty’s bedroom, b) ABSOLUTELY KILLED IT when he and Betty almost fucked each other in the kitchen, c) KILLED IT AND BURIED IT in the moments before fucking her on the couch when he was all, “Or you could stay,” and fucking touched her dress like she was an angel of the Lord and he was just a humble shepherd boy whose eyes were not worthy to gaze upon her countenance, d) only strategically removes his hat, and e) rides a motorcycle. the hat is not a con, necessarily, and being a writer in high school is a cross some of us simply have to bear, but he is like, kind of a pain sometimes and a little squirrelly, but w/r/t the love of his life, he has tailored himself to her every need almost perfectly

OH AND I FORGOT WHEN HE KISSED HER SCABBY BLOOD KNUCKLES! OH SHIT!

Veronica has the most game on the entire show

I like when they have Jughead use words like “modicum”

“Ben’s death haunts me, Jug. He didn’t scream. Why not, I wonder?”: writing credits this episode go to Daphne de Maurier

YYEEEAAAAAHHH THE BLUE & GOLD CRIME BOARD BABY

I would almost expect something more from the warden’s tie, except that I know plain clothing is, in and of itself, a warning sign

anything that gets Veronica in her reading glasses is okay by me, and this includes Pop’s hemorrhaging money

Jughead can wear just a T-shirt sans jacket or flannel any old time he wants, I’m just putting that vibe out there

“Of course we’re calling it a speakeasy.”

Jug’s suspender game is strong, so really Betty should know she has nothing to worry about

his stupid dumb round face looking at her when she pulls him aside is pretty. remember when he kissed her hands? fucking Jughead sometimes, dude

“Evelyn...creeps me out.”

I like Betty’s overalls and Evelyn’s romper thing

what I expected when Kevin dialed the phone was for the whole booth to sink into the basement like a surprise elevator

Kander and Ebb wrote the music to, among much else, Cabaret and Chicago, those being some of their most gay

I LOVE VERONICA’S WHITE SHIRT. IT’S JUST A FUCKING PLAIN WHITE SHIRT, SHE IS SO BEAUTIFUL

Every triangle has three corners, every triangle has three sides: is there some heat between Veronica and Reggie? am I crazy?

the foursome of Reg, Ronnie, Josie, and Kev is basically just as strong as the cour four strictly in terms of hair

I don’t know that I like Penny’s sleeveless Ghoulies vest more than her leather Serpents jacket but I do know I like it at least the same amount (oodles)

Fwoopy hair is the best hair: Day One Lifted Bag Off Head Hair: GREAT

OH MY GOD, JOAQUIN!!!! WHEN WILL JOAQUIN REST. DOES EVERY TERRIBLE THING HAVE TO HAPPEN TO JOAQUIN BEFORE IT HAPPENS TO SOMEONE ELSE. IS JOAQUIN IN THE FARM

does Archie have a scar on his head? is it KJ’s? have I lost track of something?

Gay?!: BABY TEETH is an absolute twink and he was tapped to save his life

I’m suspicious of Peter because his name is, simply, “Peter”

Gay.: Cheryl and Toni are just like lounging in a single chair together and that’s the bisexual agenda

Veronica was rich: Veronica’s heavy card stock IS very nice

Ethel’s cute yellow cardigan is back, which matches her thermos and lunchbox

I enjoyed when Betty sits down and you think she’s going to apologize for being there at Ben’s death but instead she just fucking grills Ethel some more

“...G&G.”

OOOOOOHHHHHHH JUGHEAD’S TURNING IT ON WITH THAT PRINCESS SHIT

Please protect Betty: Betty’s entire expression at being told she’s “not worthy,” God bless her

The female gaze: I don’t know why Reggie’s shirt is off. probably Reggie doesn’t even know

Reggie’s panicked JJ face is one of the top five panicked faces of all time. he’s tied at least with the girl in Jurassic Park when she sees the raptor shadow and her hand holding that green Jell-O starts shaking

Minetta doesn’t even pretend he’s looking for something other than whatever was in those boxes. cold, Minetta

REGGIE’S SALUTE

Reg simply being aware that Minetta and the Ghoulies work for Hiram almost brings me to tears. not only is he a walking sculpture with a pair of lips that would make Sarah Steller throw herself off the Hoover Dam, but he is also a genius

VERONICA IS SO BEAUTIFUL. “Not until I’m properly armed.” just look at her!

Ethel didn’t even come to the first meeting of the Farm Club? cold, Ethel

Evelyn offering Betty a pizza slice comes off as her genuinely wanting Betty to have a piece of pizza if she wants, which is the first non-creepy thing she’s done (Jughead would take the pizza)

she of course follows this up with “that darn medication”

Archie looks like a corpse in the blue light

tell me “wakey, wakey” is a Kill Bill reference. TELL ME IT IS

the guy they have fighting Archie looks just enough like Khabib Nurmagomedov that I was like, is this an unconscious wish on someone’s part to do a rematch of red-haired McGregor vs. Khabib except it’s on Riverdale so it’s in something called “the Pit” which is a drained swimming pool and they’re in juvie? (it’d have to be a fantasy in that Conor McGregor would get his ass beaten by Khabib Nurmagomedov in any rematch in any universe, in the universe)

dude does his best but, as Sweet Pea and Vintage Reggie can tell you, you cannot let Archie land a) a right hook or b) an uppercut or he will end this fight

who’re the rando white women watching? their fucking wives? goddammit, white women

I think Baby Teeth could take Reggie jawline-to-jawline

Veronica’s kittenish heels sinking into the dirt as opposed to her striding effortlessly as Moses parting the Red Sea

Cheryl’s a chaos angel from hell: “THAT VIPER BITCH”

Antoinette Topaz is fluent in many languages, including Veronica’s

God bless jingle-jangle: the fucking cat burglar sequence set to “Jingle Jangle” just about fucking did it

Ethel’s candle game is reaching midnight mass-levels of mastery

so did Betty and Jughead get their ad hoc sex den (good band name) out of the bunker before Ethel got there? or was it there the whole time but for Ben and Ethel?

I feel I want to write down that Ben abandoned Ethel to ascend prematurely with Dilton otherwise I’ll forget and will be tricked by something later on

POLLY’S KNITTED HALTER

closed captioning capitalized the Shady Man, the second strangest Riverdale skull

Alice really just did Betty like that! maybe Betty DOES need to live in a bunker

50 Shades of Betty: “The wig. The webcaming.”

I love how Betty always gets very sarcastically OH, OKAY THEN when she decides to start laying out some truths

Alice stands up and her dress has some sort of insane asymmetrical hemline and she’s also got an ankle bracelet!!!!!!

Dilton Doiley Ethel Muggs is a canonically great dancer the DM: Ethel’s little crush on Jughead circa his birthday party has not abated. even when he was being insane about the Serpents I bet she entertained sweet fantasies of buying a pleather jacket off ModCloth and Jughead “inducting” her. so she found herself a coterie of pliable boys who were also gangly and weird and obsessed with details and pacts and she became their princess. so THERE. you fucking bet she’s gonna get a kiss out of Jughead before she fucking poisons herself

Ethel’s dungeon master voice is giving me a sort of ASMR vibe

I don’t want to veer too wildly but she is wearing a crown, her character has “a crown”

dog, was she about to kill Jughead right then and there? Ethel goes hard. Ethel might go harder than Jughead

“You’re asking me to play Russian roulette!” “I’m asking you to play Gryphons and Gargoyles.” THIS BITCH (in context it’s very smooth and bitchy)

GOD BUT JUGHEAD DID DRINK IT. VERY WELL KNOWINGLY, HE DID IT

Jughead eats: Salud is just the sort of thing I’d expect Jug to say before maybe drinking cyanide (or skol, if he had been watching Ingmar Bergman)

I don’t know if I could drink that much Kool-Aid that fast. Kool-Aid and Sunny D always made my teeth feel filmy. I could definitely down that much Capri Sun, if it were in a pouch the size of my shin

anyway Ethel’s sick move telling Jughead he has to kiss her first got an emotional reaction from me at almost the level of when Cheryl came down to Jason’s wake in that white dress

Jughead and Ethel are almost of a height, which is weirdly lovely

These students are legally children: maybe Ethel put the poison in after Jughead had chosen. I maybe doubt she would’ve just fucking assassinated Jughead

Jughead was reading next to her when she woke up, which is just a specific kind of daydream you have, sometimes

Sixth period is Intro to Film: HEISENBURG

Toni’s pictures are certainly shot with a mind to lighting, depth

is blue light the light of evil? Hiram’s study, the warden’s office?

Archie > Dawson: of course Archie imagines talking to his father and of course he imagines his father telling him to “take one.” I love Self-Sacrificial Lamb Archie (or just momentarily self-sacrificing). better than Fascist Archie!

well, Betty’s room has blue light too. fucking forget it then

although she is SURROUNDED BY EVIL at all times

Mädchen Amick, MÄDCHEN AMICK: “I trust them more than I trust you” is season one-level Alice-shade

Cheryl’s sheaths: I like very much Cheryl’s bosomy sequin thing and Toni’s back jewelry

I also like the RROTC boys in their like WWII uniforms, which may be anachronistic but still hard vintage, and the cigar girls

Jughead doubts it: there’s so much going on when Betty goes all melty and wipes some of the Fresh-Aid off Jug’s lips and Jug, who is not smiling, looks at Sweet Pea helping Veronica

Best costume bit: Veronica is in magenta, because I deserve it

I can’t wholly endorse Reggie’s non-black plaid trousers paired with a solid black blazer but I CAN endorse Reggie as a whole

Cheryl’s Hiram’s pins: I think Hiram has a fucking octopus pin! I think it is!!!!!!!!

the wallpaper behind Hiram downstairs is...interesting. it’s like a cutout from that Disney cartoon for “Winter Wonderland”

we stay on Veronica’s face for sort of an extra beat, so I can confirm a) she’s still beautiful and b) she has a sparkly thing in her hair

The 2001 Josie and the Pussycats movie was a masterpiece: Josie’s got that thing going on where you gem up the part in your hair

God I love a good Riverdale music/mayhem montage. like what were they playing when Jughead ran the gauntlet? fuck sometimes this stuff is just still so good (“Mess Around” when Reggie lunged for Jughead also counts, though not performed live somewhere else in Riverdale at the same moment)

“Anything Goes” is in fact not Kander and Ebb but Cole Porter

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: I love a good bead of bloody spit dangling from someone’s mouth during a slow-mo fight sequence

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: “THAT KID…..IS A STAR.”

that fucking rum, can you believe it? the fucking shade of it all

Fifth period is AP English: OH MY GOD. THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO. OH MY GOD, THE FUCKING HAMMER. THE COUNT OF MONTE MOTHERFUCKING GODDAMN YES GOD HOLY BITCH

“Damn good coffee”: the goddamn shot of FP and Alice standing together flanked by the flames of their righteous destruction of the G&G manual

Summer + Blair = Veronica: Veronica is pretty fucking brave to still be living in Hiram Lodge’s HOUSE. and of course that’s what her dressing gown looks like

oh my god, Joaquin is still alive? Joaquin’s STILL HERE?

ARCHIE’S GONNA BREAK OUT OF PRISON AND I MUST CLEANSE MYSELF OF SIN TO BE WORTHY OF ITS GLORY (I trust Riverdale a lot more again at the moment)

so wait, Jughead put the cot BACK? are these two different bunkers? is it the same effing bunker???

“It’s over”: you fucking fool

yes, it’s the same goddamn bunker. the candles are still there! I guess I thought the wicked juju from Ethel’s ~SUICIDE ATTEMPT~ would deter the two of them from FUCKING IN THE EXACT SAME BUNKER but Betty and Jughead literally do not give a single damn where they do it

Jug’s headphones!!!!!!!!!

Cheryl’s expression at reading the G&G manual is appropriately be-Blossomed

The Blossom spawn: she still has a photo of Jason in her locker and I think a sticker that says “Literally no one cares”

What damn high school in America: those manuals have a QR code on the back, so you can play on your phone! GIVE ME THE APP, RAS

who unsheathed Ethel? LORD, WHO LET HER LOOSE?

GEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

NEXT WEEK: Camila Mendes wears glasses the entire time

#riverdale #i say #commentary #tropes

[fanscrit]

To the Rescue

Fandom: Overwatch Pairing: Mchanzo Rating: Teen and Up Prompt: Superhero AU (Day 2) Warning: Angst

A/N: Sorry, it’s what I do best. Sorry for being late

Since he was a small child, Jesse McCree loved to watch the Gibraltar news reports of the superheroes going out to save the day. Seeing his favorite heroes like Striker 76, Lionheart, and Angel go out into battle to save innocent lives was inspiring. He dreamed of one day getting the chance to fight side by side with them, but he knew it would never be. You had to have powers, and he was nothing like them. Didn’t quench the fire burning in him to do good, though.

Jesse joined the police force and put his shooting skills to the test. He made first response and excelled. No one could match Jesse when it came to the gun. He never missed if he could see you. Some of the guys on the force joked that he was a Super himself. They even gave him his own name: Deadeye.

Jesse complained and said it sounded more like a crook than a hero. Secretly, he loved it. Captain Reyes agreed, and whenever he used the dispatch, his boss never failed to joke around about it either. Here, he felt at home. He truly felt like he was where he needed to be… but something was missing. He couldn’t understand what it was.

Half a year into his time on first response, he was accustomed the ins and outs of Gibraltar. The dispatch crackled as the word came out.

“We have a robbery on 6th and Hanamura Avenue, Payload Industries. All patrols, converge on the site. I repeat…” Jesse drowned out the sound of Orisa dispatch interface. Putting the lights on so he could avoid traffic, Jesse made for the destination.

When he arrived, there were two visible figures among what appeared to be hostages. One was a Hispanic woman in a purple jacket and leggings. He’d read up on her, Sombra was an elite hacker, and with her powers she could control anyone. The other man was new, though. Asian, by the look of it, with black hair, rugged features, blue attire with an asymmetrical chest cut, and a bow.

Jesse looked to his hostage negotiator, Lucio, who looked like he was about at wits end. The poor thing was new, just into his second week, and while he was good in normal circumstances, Supers were a whole other breed. This was his first time with them too. Jesse patted him on the back.

“What’s going on here, partner?” Jesse quipped. Lucio looked close to tears when he turned to face Jesse.

“Deadeye, she’s impossible! I’ve tried everything, and she just tosses it around and leaves me all tongue tied. Nearest Super is 20 min away, but she’s gonna set her hound on them in the next 10. I don’t like it,” the man whined.

“Now I don’t think Hana would like hearing about you getting tongue tied by another woman,” Jesse joked, “so let’s see if we can wrap this up before time’s up.”

Lucio’s dark skin grew heated, “Yeah, okay. There’s a roof entrance accessible by ladder, you can sneak in and get them that way.”

“Gotcha, keep Sombra busy while I head in. If I can get rid of the muscle, we should be fine,” Jesse took off in the direction of the building, avoiding the glass walls on the second floor.

Jesse got in easily enough. The building was three floors high, so he needed to head to the stairs and wait for the signal from Lucio. He saw terrified employees on his way through, innocent people waiting to be saved. All he could do was give them a fighting chance till a Super would show up.

He made it to the stairway door and tested the knob. It was unlocked, good. He needed it to be accessible to make this work. Jesse took a deep breath and turned the handle, gun in hand. He had not been expecting someone on the other side, but within seconds, a bow notched with an arrow was pointed in his face.

“Hey partner, now let’s just take a minute to think about what we’re…” Jesse’s words trailed as he took in the intricate Dragon tattoo on the man’s exposed left arm.

“What is your business here?” The strong Eastern accent made Jesse focus on the man in front of him again. He stared the man down, watching his stern, solid gaze for weakness.

“I reckon I take issue with that question,” Jesse laughed, “seeing as how you’re the one not meant to be here.”

The archer’s eye twitched in annoyance, “I will play no games with a cop. State your business or die.”

“But we were getting to know each other so well,” Jesse poked, hoping for a response.

“No we were not.”

“But we could, if you wanted,” Jesse gave the man a winning smile. He watched the man’s brow furrow for a momemt.

Jesse coughed, “Let’s start with names. The name’s… uhhh… well most just call me Deadeye.”

The eyes narrowed, as if looking for a trick. After a tense moment, the reply came.

“Stormbow.”

“Well, sounds nice and tough if you ask me,” Jesse eyed the tattoo again, “What’s with that on your arm?”

“Why do you care?” Stormbow questioned. He was getting suspicious. His gaze turned to a clock on the wall. He needed to hold out for a few more moments. He needed a bold move.

He relaxed his grip on his gun and pocketed it in his holster. He held his hands up a took a step forward. Stormbow backed into the wall.

“Come on, I’m sure your girlfriend down there is nice, but a friend couldn’t kill ya, right?” Jesse mused.

“She is… we a have strictly professional relationship,” the man corrected. Jesse would deny that his heart did a flip when he heard that. He had assumed they were a power couple. It wasn’t uncommon. Why was he so happy to hear that…?

Jesse through caution to the wind and took a few more steps until he was right in front of Stormbow, “Well maybe we can have one a little more… off the books?”

Stormbow turned a shade of red that was completed confusing to Jesse until he went over what he’d said. His cheeks burned as he tried to back track his words.

“I mean, not like that! Not that there’s anything wrong with that at all, I mean I just don’t know you well enough! You’re probably a great guy and all but I just got away from a bad break up and I’m in no position to-”

“Storm, we need to go, did you get…” the voice, belonging to none other than Sombra, trailed as it looked up at Jesse. Immediately, her eyes went wide and she threw up her hands, glowing a dark purple.

Jesse suddenly found himself on the floor in a crumpled mess. He couldn’t move his limbs at all. Sombra must have hacked him! He struggled to move but failed again and again.

“I’ve got you in my sights!” The call denoted the arrival of Striker 76. Stormbow and Sombra whipped around and the man himself was at the door to the second floor steps. Sombra cursed.

“Mission failed, we need to go. Say goodbye to you friend,” she snarled as she typed into the holopads she created.

“He is no friend of mine,” Stormbow snapped. He did, however, look back at Jesse with a look of confusion.

“Whatever, translocating,” and with that they disappeared. Seconds later, Strike 76 appeared. Jesse craned his neck to look up at him

“Does this wear off or am I stuck like this?”

Jesse started running into the pair all over the place. And each time, he would run into Stormbow again and again. He had to admit it was something he looked forward to. Jesse was man enough to admit he was smitten with the man. Just a crush, though, nothing more. It wasn’t like anything was gonna come out of it.

Each time they talked, he learned a little more about the man. Like that he loved seafood and cheese, that he had recently discovered jazz and was quite fond of it, and that he’d been trained in archery since he was a child. Each time, Jesse fell for Stormbow harder and harder.

It got to the point that at the last time they had a run in, Jesse had yelled dinner reservations at the archer as he sped away. He’d received no confirmation about if Stormbow would even be there, but he made the reservations anyways. His friend’s mother, Ana Amari, owned a four star Egyptian cuisine restaurant that he convinced her to get them a table at instead of waiting weeks for the reservation.

Jesse made the reservation under Deadeye since he hadn’t given Stormbow his actual name. He was smitten, not an idiot; he still had his gun on him. It was the longest hour of his life. So many feelings went through him, from anxiety to fear, disappointment to embarrassment.

When we was all but ready to call it a night with he head in his hands, Jesse heard a chair being pulled back. He looked up to see the refined archer in all his formal attire. Jesse had never been a man to have a particular interest in a man in a suit, but the one before him truly made him reconsider it.

“You came…” Jesse was not a fan of how surprised and afraid he sounded in that moment.

“You made it sound so important, I decided to see what this was about,” Stormbow quipped back. The familiar banter helped ease Jesse’s nerves.

“Well, I guess you could say that, but it’s not really-”

“Ah, so I was right then. Good,” The Asian pulled a wicked smile and Jesse’s face turned beet red, “So Deadeye, tell me-”

“Actually, it’s Jesse,” he hadn’t meant to go there, but some part of him wanted this to feel real and Deadeye was a joke. Stormbow laughed.

“Hanzo. So Jesse, tell me,” his ears burned and the sound of his name coming from Stor- from Hanzo. He could get drunk off the sound alone, “what is it that you want? Info on my partner? Her powers? My cooperation in a takedown on her?”

Jesse’s eyes widened, “No, no, nothing like that. I just wanted to get to know you a little better… see where things go. I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression from what I was looking for here.”

Hanzo didn’t move, didn’t speak. Thankfully, the waitress saved him from embarrassing himself further by ordering wine and some appetizers. When she left, he turned back to Hanzo to see a face of stone. Jesse panicked inside. What had he done? Was this a mistake? Maybe he should go?

“I can leave if you-” he made to rise and leave the building but Hanzo stopped him with this hand.

“I am not opposed to getting to know you,” he started.

“Good,” Jesse breathed, taking his seat again, “cause I wanna know all about you.”

They spoke on many things. Hanzo would laugh when he told a joke, and Jesse would let Hanzo try what he ordered since Hanzo wasn’t as familiar with Egyptian food.

Halfway through, a storm kicked up and Hanzo excused himself to the bathroom. As soon as Hanzo turned the corner, Jesse broke out in a sweat. He was hooked. Everything about Hanzo made him desire the man more and more. He was obsessed. He wanted the chance to really know who he was.

After several minutes had passed, Jesse got up himself and went to check the bathroom to make sure Hanzo was okay. When he found the restroom to be empty, Jesse became immediately concerned. He found Ana in the kitchen and asked if she had seen anything. She shook her head and said to check the upstairs hall before the doorway too the roof.

Jesse hopped up toward the roof and came to the door. He put his ear to the door and listened for words. Maybe Hanzo was making a long phone call, or maybe he was just as nervous as Jesse was. He could pick up distant yelling.

“What are you doing,?” It was Sombra… Jesse’s heart skipped a beat in panic.

“I never wanted this! I did not ask to be here with him,” It was Hanzo, and what he was saying… Jesse was close to tears. He really was stupid if he thought this would work.

He kicked the door in and pointed his gun at Stormbow, “Sorry, didn’t realize I was that bad of a date.”

“Jesse…” Stormbow took a step forward but Jesse fired a warning shot into the ground in front of him.

“Don’t you dare!!” He lost it, “so what was it, huh? Bad conversation, poor food, or was I just a side piece till the main course came back around?”

“Jesse, please, let me-” the archer tried again, but another warning shot fired closer to him.

“It was from the start, right? All the talking and back and forth was a lie, right?” Jesse couldn’t tell if it his blurred vision was from the rain or the tears, but his heart snapping in two definitely felt like it was the tears.

Sombra laughed, “What, you thought you would make him fall in love with you, make him leave everything behind to be with you and you both would love in peace? How small minded. Stormbow, kill him and let’s go. I’ve had enough of this.”

“No one moved, Jesse pointed his gun at Stormbow’s head, waiting for him to make a move. Slowly, he notched an arrow onto his bow.

"Jesse, please understand…”

“Understand what, that you made a fool of me? Did you get a good laugh? Did it make you feel like you were a man? I’m done talking, I don’t wanna hear anything you got to say. You make me sick,” with each word, Jesse’s voice began to break. He was all but sobbing. He was worth less than nothing foretting the enemy use him like this. He was more angry with himself than anyone else.

Stormbow didn’t make a move to shoot. He turned to Sombra, “No.”

Sombra whipped around at him, “What was that?”

“I refuse. I will not take his life, I will not make the same mistake twice. We will go and-”

“No, you will do as I say and get rid of him, he knows too much. My operation will not fall because of some cliche romance,” Sombra snapped.

“I said-”

“No I SAID he dies!” Sombra ensnared Jesse in her hack. The cop glowed a sickly purple as he dropped his gun to the floor. He felt as if he had to retch.

Stormbow made as if to shoot Sombra, but she was one step ahead of him. She pulled her own gun from her side and aimed at Jesse. Stormbow hesitated.

“Nope, not gonna happen,” Sombra cackled. She made Jesse wall to the end of the building. He stood, overlooking the busy street below.

“Now, let’s have some fun, since you don’t seem to understand who’s in charge here." She released Jesse from her control. He turned to see Stormbow glowing a sickly purple, bow drawn at him.

The first one launched, embedding itself right into the crook of his elbow. Jesse hollered in pain while Sombra laughed.

"Stop this!” Stormbow yelled.

“I can. But you have to ask me to kill him. Otherwise, I’ll turn him into a cowboy pin cushion,” Another arrow went into his shoulder. Jesse buckled down onto his knees. His vision was hazy. He couldn’t feel his arm at all.

Another hit his thigh, and a fourth one punctured a lung. He was all but dead on his feet. Jesse was a mess of tears and blood being cleansed in the rain.

“Just, may I have a moment? Please, I wish to say goodbye,” Stormbow pleaded.

“Sure thing, cabrón. Hurry it up.” She walked Stormbow over to Jesse, who lay there on the ground, breathing heavily.

"I am forever sorry, I never intended to hurt you. I merely deluded myself into thinking I could have something I always wanted,“ Jesse turned his head and looked deep into Hanzo’s eyes. He could feel something just beneath the surface.

"Huh, what’s that?” Jesse coughed.

“Happiness,” tears fell from Hanzo’s eyes and he brought himself down to kiss Jesse. It was sad, as if two long lost lovers were saying goodbye once more. Jesse sighed into the kiss and reached to hold Hanzo’s hand. The sound of the rain seemed to stop as he lost himself in were his final moments.

He felt something enter his grip and looked down. It was his gun! Jesse barely had enough time to think before Hanzo whispered in his ear “Shoot me.”

Whatever was beneath Hanzo’s skin started to roar, to Jesse it felt like the world was shaking.

“Do you feel that?” Jesse sputtered.

“Do not worry, it is of little consequence. Just do what you know you must,” Hanzo smiled as he squeezed Jesse’s hand.

He could feel in inside him, begging to burst free. He needed to let it free.

Jesse leaned leaned up into Hanzo’s face, “Let the dragon consume.”

Hanzo looked at him in shock. Jesse shook his head. Where had that come from? But his hand burned with raw energy. It wanted out.

“I’ll point and shoot, you just say the words,” Jesse coughed.

“They speak through you, with you…” Hanzo closed his eyes. When he opened them, he had a look of determination, “Very well.”

Jesse gripped the gun and with what little strength he had left, aimed the barrel at Sombra.

“Now Hanzo!” Jesse screamed.

“Ryuga Waga Teki No Kurau!”

Electric power rushed through his entire body, traveling through him all the way out through the barrel of the gun. Jesse pulled the trigger, but no bullet came out. Instead, a dragon the size of a baseball sped out of the pistol. It moved so fast, one would mistake it for lightning. It hit Sombra dead in the chest, causing her to stumble back in agony.

Hanzo took the distraction, took Jesse in his arms, and ran for the hallway. Jesse faded in and out of consciousness. He remembered seeing Ana and her scream. The police and ambulance carrying him into the van. Hanzo praying ‘please do not leave me, please, not when I am finally ready to be happy again.’

When he fully awoke, he was in a hospital bed. He looked over to see Hanzo passed out beside him. His fingers were intertwined with his. Jesse smiled as he felt sleep try to take him once more. He whispered to Hanzo in his sleep.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m gonna be right here, with you. Always.”

#mchanzo #mchanzo week 2017 #day 2 #fanfic #overwatch #overwatch fanfic #hanzo shimada #jesse mccree #fanscrit

[lpdwillwrite4coffee]

Awww yiiissssss, get to know me memes are the best!

I was tagged by @kteague cuz my girl knows what’s up (I love this shit, I can’t help it).

I’m gonna go with @asnowballschance @priya212 @cemeterydreamer @asocialfauxpas @purelyfueledbycaffeine But no pressure! Under the cut for obvious reasons.

Rules: you must answer these 85 statements and tag 20 whoever you’d like!!

The Last …

1. drink: coffee

2. phone call: real estate agent (I’m such an adult haha)

3. text message:  friend telling me she has poison ivy

4. song you listened to: Bellbottoms by the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. I got back from seeing Baby Driver and immediately needed the soundtrack in my life.

5. time you cried:  A couple days ago. I was super overwhelmed with life ~stuff and just needed to cry it out.

Have you ever …

6. dated someone twice: No but I’ve thought about it.

7. kissed someone and regretted it: YES. Ugh.... Several. (feel free to ask for details on those train wrecks haha)

8. been cheated on: Not that I’m aware of...

9. lost someone special:  Oh yes.

10. been depressed: Yes, been on medication for it and then off meds. I was incorrectly diagnosed with clinical depression when it was situational and because of my own past traumas and emotional abuse.

11. gotten drunk and thrown up: Yes, I just can’t remember how many times... 2? 3? I think?

Favorite Colors…

12. Cobalt blue

13. Rich, royal purple

14. Emerald green

In The Last Year Have You…

15. made new friends: Yes!! IRL and online (y’all know who you are, and if you don’t I’ll come tell you)

16. fallen out of love: It’s been a couple years since I’ve *been* in love.

17. laughed until you cried:  So many times.

18. found out someone was talking about you: In a negative way, yep, and it sucked. I thought we were friends... In a positive way? I think so! Well, found out people were happy about what I was doing and my work. So that’s been super lovely!!

19. met someone who changed you:  Definitely.

20. found out who your friends are:  Yeah, some friendships have fallen apart or been tested. That’s never fun.

21. kissed someone on your facebook list:  Yes

General

22. how many of your facebook friends do you know in real life:  Most? I tend to accept friend requests from people I don’t *know* but have lots of mutuals with and I’m sure we’ve run into each other or run in the same circles. So like, 85%?

23. do you have any pets:  MY LIGHT OF MY LIFE, MY DOG ODIN. HE’S THE BEST AND I WILL SCREAM ABOUT HIM FOR DAYS IF YOU LET ME.

24. do you want to change your name: Ahaha, I’ve already changed my name. I used to go by my middle name and then started going by my first when I changed schools. I’ve changed my last name too. I’d make a mediocre spy.

25. what did you do for your last birthday: On my actual birthday, I got lunch with friends out and then had dinner made for me by other friends/my surrogate family (they made me steak) And then that weekend I went out for drinks with friends and my favorite bar tender bought me a round and gave me the special pint glass. It was a great birthday week.

26. what time did you wake up: 5:45.... uggghhh.

27. what were you doing at midnight last night: I was surprisingly asleep! Good job adulting Lauren, you went to bed on time.

28. name something you can’t wait for: I’m stealing one of my answers from K- The Punisher series! Also, moving to MA, finishing my second book, getting a new house, and currently I can’t wait for my second cup of coffee.

29. when was the last time you saw your mom: September I think........... Yeah, that sounds right.

31. what are you listening to right now: My co-worker’s FB messenger going off...

32. have you ever talked to a person named Tom:  I... think so? Sure. I’m sure I have. 

33. something that is getting on your nerves: My co-worker’s FB messenger going off!!! (Vibrate is a setting. USE IT.)

34. most visited website:  Tumblr, Pinterest, and Gmail.

35. hair color: Strawberry blonde/ red, and currently with purple, copper, and bright red highlights. 

36. long or short hair: Short, asymmetrical cut. I used to have long mermaid hair and chopped it all off. Showering takes WAY less time now haha.

37. do you have a crush on someone: I had a crush on an old co-worker, but I left and haven’t seen him in so long that it’s faded. Celebrity crushes? YO HOW MUCH TIME DO YOU HAVE??

38. what do you like about yourself:  I’d like to think I’m funny but Idek lol. I’m creative and passionate. I’m a good friend to people. I’m really proud of my empathy and compassion, especially in a world that tells you not to be. I’m also not to be fucked with, and I like that about myself. I like that I can fit into different groups, chill with different kinds of people, and no one can put labels on me because I don’t fit any mold at all. 

39. piercings:  Hold on lemme count... 11!

40. blood type: SHit, I should probably know this about myself... O.... Positive? Negative? I’m an O, I know that much! (bad job adulting Lauren. Bad job)

41. nickname: I don’t really have a nickname... Not that I’m aware of anyway. I’m not opposed to one! But my names don’t really make for good nickname material haha.

42. relationship status: single, and TOTALLY fine with that. Ya girl is too busy for that relationship stuff right now.

43. zodiac: Scorpio

44. pronouns: She/her

45. favorite tv show: Listen, stop trying to make me pick between my children I love them all equally okay?

46. tattoos: I have to count again, hold on.... 8!

47. right or left handed: right-handed

48. surgery: A few times. 4 maybe?

49. piercing:  see above.

50. sport: That I played? Volleyball (very poorly I might add). That I watch? Baseball. The only sport I give 2 shits about is baseball. And maybe rugby if it’s on and I like the team.

51. vacation:  I have a girls weekend planned for the end of this month. My last true vacation was to Beaufort with @asnowballschance and then up to North Adams, MA to visit a friend who had moved. Man I’ve traveled a lot this year...

52. pair of trainers: I have one pair of true “trainers”. The rest are like Converse sneakers or slip ons that can’t be used for actual physical activity, they just make me look sporty haha.

More General

53. eating: Home made trail mix for breakfast 

54. drinking:  Water... and more coffee

55. i’m about to: email my realtor, refill my water bottle, and start writing. I have a Camp NaNo word count to get to.

56. waiting for: NEWS ABOUT THE PUNISHER. GIVE IT YOU ANIMALS. Also waiting for the caffeine to kick in....

57. want: to find a house in my price range that DOESN’T need serious remodels. Seriously, I’m not Bob Villa. Let it be move in ready or close to it please and thank you.

58. get married: Yes! Absolutely! But the dude has to show up first... haha

59. career: Writer/author. I mean, I work an office job to pay the bills but that’s not my career. 

60. hugs or kisses: Both? plz love me.

61. lips or eyes: Eyes! I’m so enamored with people’s eyes- the color, the shape, the way they show emotion, the way they change in the light. I love it. 

62. shorter or taller: Taller? I’m 5′8 almost 5′9 so sometimes that’s hard to find...

63. older or younger: Older. I have the hardest time finding anyone my age who is compatible.

64. nice arms or nice stomach: Arrrrmmmmmssss. Not jacked. Just strong. Broad shoulders and a wide, strong chest makes me WEAK

65. hook up or relationship: Both, depending on my mood. I’m currently hooking up with a couple people, but I’m so not wanting to date.

66. troublemaker or hesitant: Hahahahha, I’m called the human embodiment of the grinning Devil emoji for a reason.

67. kissed a stranger: Yes. It was..........

68. drank hard liquor: Lord help me yes. 

69. lost glasses/contact lenses: My glasses are my everything. I’m so blind without them it’s awful. I never take them off. 

70. turned someone down:  Many times. I’m a picky girl.

71. sex on the first date: Sure, I’ve done it before. Worked out fine!

72. broken someone’s heart: Yeahh... It sucked at the time but it was necessary. 

73. had your heart broken:  Yes, in more ways than one.

74. been arrested: No, but I’ve been yelled at by the Coast Guard. That was fun.

75. cried when someone died: Of course!

76. fallen for a friend: Yes.

Do You Believe In …

77. yourself:  Yes! Most of the time. Okay, like 67% of the time. 

78. miracles: Yes, but probably not in the way you’re thinking.

79. love at first sight: Maybe? I’ve never experienced it myself though.

80. santa claus: I used to! Now I believe in the spirit of Christmas/ Holidays that make people want to keep the idea of him alive for children. It’s a precious concept and tradition.

81. kiss on the first date: Sure, if it feels right. Life’s too short. Kiss the person you wanna touch faces with.

82. angels: Yes, but again, not the way you probably think

Other

83. current best friends’ names: *EXTREME KRIS JENNER VOICE* I LOVE ALL MY FRIENDS

84. eye color: Blue green

85. favorite movie: PSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHH look you’ve made it to the end of this list do you really think I’m able to pick just one??? 

#get to know me #lists #these are fun I love these #Thanks K!! #about me