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vexwerewolf · 2 months

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Felicitations, comrade! We had our session 0 for the IGF campaign im running, and one of my players wants to be a moonlighter pirate "infiltrating" Hell's Gate militia. He was initially thinking of being affiliated with the Hell Hounds, which for obvious reasons would present some challenges. Do you have any advice for making this happen, what with the very first mission putting him up against his true boss? I dont know that he'd have enough time to have truly built up camraderie with the rest of the SRT to truly make his character have conflicted loyalties.

I mean, he'd have to have been with the militia a while to build up enough trust to be seriously considered for the SRT.

But moreover, let me tell you what being a Hell Hound is like.

CW: psychological and physical abuse

So one thing I want to make it clear that the Hell Hounds are basically an incel cult without the weird gender-sexual overtones. I imagine there ARE women and enbies who join it but in essence Andros Capella is a creepy weirdo who preys on disaffected, primarily male youth with no prospects and indoctrinates them into his worldview of nihilistic violence.

Andros doesn't really have a philosophy, or at least not one that he could describe in words (and even if he could, he wouldn't), but it could be summed up as "the weak exist solely to create things for the strong to take." You are worthy of having things if you are strong enough to take them, but only so long as you're strong enough to keep them.

The closest political ideology I could ascribe to him would be "stateless fascism." Andros is certainly sadistic, devoid of empathy and believes himself to be supreme, but he's too intellectually lazy to bother engaging in justifying why he's supreme. He makes the most basic of naturalistic arguments (i.e. "this is just the way the world works") but feels it's beneath him to actually justify or provide evidence for his claims.

He hates the minutiae of day-to-day life, and derives no joy from anything that doesn't involve someone else's discomfort or pain. He will steal your food for the sheer thrill of having taken something that you wanted to eat, but he won't enjoy eating it because he despises the physical sensations of chewing and swallowing.

And if you are a Hell Hound who, god forbid, enjoys something, he will bully the shit out of you. He will verbally and physically abuse you until you learn to hate the thing you liked just to make the pain stop.

Lemme tell you what the average night on Fort Cerberus looks like when you're not on a raid: you and a couple hundred other sick fucks lurk around the corridors drinking and gambling but you sure as hell better not actually look like you're having fun because you're all desperately trying to avoid becoming the bossman's next chew toy.

Some poor fuck catches Andros' eye. You're not sure what for, but from the sounds of things he might've been counting his poker winnings too loud. He gets a hand on his shoulder from the big man, who tells him that he's being too selfish - gotta learn to share a bit more, yeah? Now, way Andros sees it, guy's got ten fingernails that he's keeping all to himself, so here's a set of pliers - redistribute.

You jeer along with the rest of the room, loud enough to drown out his screams, because you're so very, very relieved that it isn't you. But you fuck up. You look a little bit too enthusiastic, perhaps, or maybe it's the opposite, maybe you weren't forcing it enough. Either way, the bossman's eyes land on you and your blood turns to ice in your veins.

"You," he says. "C'mere."

The room is dead silent all of a sudden, quiet enough that the pitiful whimpering of the first guy, (currently on his second thumbnail) is the only sound you can hear. You walk over, as a prisoner does to the place of execution.

He takes your hands, inspecting your fingernails, and then your hands, then your arms. "No ink yet? You not pulling your weight? Am I payin' to feed a fuckin' leech?"

You say you're not a leech.

"Those pricks over at the Gate are gettin' too clever. Learning too quick. Gettin' the jump on us too many times. I want someone over there learnin' what they know. You 'avin' no ink makes you a good choice. They'd sniff out any of these boys in a second, they would, but not you. You look soft. Don't he look soft, boys?"

The room jeers at you just as you jeered at the first guy (he's on his ninth nail, now, and his throat is so hoarse he can't make sounds anymore). You try your best to remain composed.

"Normally soft'd be fuckin' worthless. But soft'll let you blend right in with the Gaters."

So, to avoid whatever horrific torture he's currently ideating, you agree. The next time they go out on a raid, they pick a ship full of people who don't know each other and slip you in with the passengers when nobody's looking. You don't go to Hell's Gate directly - you do a couple of hops through the Thousand Habs, just to throw off suspicion.

You sue for residency on the station as a refugee from a failed habitat. They give you your own cabin, and they make sure you're fed and clothed. You smirk to yourself - they really are as soft as Andros said they'd be; they have food and water and clothes and they're just giving them away!

You don't have all that many marketable skills, so after a few rotations scrubbing air filters, you apply to take the militia aptitude test. You try to play it down so they don't get suspicious, but if nothing else you're a damn good pilot, so you get fast-tracked. These fucking idiots just give you a mech! God, it's gonna be so easy to tear them apart from the inside.

They put you in a team. You train together, building up hours in the simulators. Then something weird happens. They... trust you? They want to... spend time with you, outside the simulators. They want to drink with you, play games with you, hear about your life. Well, is it more suspicious if you say no? You have to maintain your cover.

You don't always fit in well. Sometimes you crack jokes that are... a little unpleasant, a little off, a little worrying, and you learn to bite those down because it's bad for your cover. You also have this odd air about you, like you're constantly on guard, like you're waiting for the other shoe to drop (like somebody's gonna make you rip your fingernails out if you're too happy). People figure you must've gone through some trauma and are kind stupid enough not to pry.

You feed information about the militia back to Andros - carefully, so as not to blow your cover. Some members of your team get hurt - nobody dies, but they get hurt. You feel... bad. Why do you feel bad? They're soft, they're weak, they don't mean anything. They're not your real friends. You don't have any friends.

Months pass. Jerry says he wants to tap your team for a long-standing project he's working on. This is your chance. Sabotaging this will prove to Andros that you're strong, that you're not weak, that you're not a leech, that you can pull your weight.

Sure, a bunch of your team will have to die. The only people who've ever put their trust in you, the only people who've ever believed in you. But that's fine, right? They don't mean anything, they're not real people, right? They're idiots for trusting you, right? They deserve it, right?

Right?

... right?

#lancer #lancer rpg #lancerrpg #lancer-rpg #in golden flame #cw: abuse #cw: injury #cw: indoctrination #cw: violence #cw: cults

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skylarsblue · 1 year

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✦Random C.o.D Headcanons✦

(Random Headcanons that I have no where else to put. Also because I can't properly wrITE WORTH SHIT, UGH)

✧Price can swing dance. And very well, mind you. ✧Johnny’s dad gripes at him for not drinking whiskey. “Bout the only Scotsman who won’t drink scotch! ‘hat’s like an Irish man not drinking Guinness!” He’ll say. But Johnny handles liquor really well. He could down three tequila sunrises without a single waver. ✧Gaz used to do ballet as a kid, gymnastics in secondary school. He’s less flexible now because he doesn’t stretch like he used to, but he could probably still manage the splits. ✧PRICE LIKES OLD WESTERNS AND COUNTRY MUSIC. TRY TO TELL ME OTHERWISE, I DARE YE- ✧Ghost’s autistic hyperfixations consist of; Birds, the chemical affects of drugs(of any kind) on the body, the process of decomposition, bones/skeletons, and how different cultures view Death. (Ex; Grin Reaper, Cu Sith, Thanatos, etc.)

✧Gaz is the one that has the most vast music taste, but admittedly he’s got a bit of a favorite spot for what I call “ass shaking music”. Things like Doja Cat to T-Pain, ya know?

✧Johnny whole heartedly believes in ghosts, and while he likes horror, he’s most scared by paranormal ones.

✧Ghost’s go to snack is apples. He is so obsessed with apples he can differentiate each kind with one bite.

✧Price hates being called Johnathan, the only one allowed to call him that is Laswell. And she only uses it to scold him. Like a mom. ✧Alejandro owns a cowboy hat. He bought Rudy a matching one, but he assumes Rodolfo got rid of it since he never wears it. It’s not true. Rudy is just really worried he’ll ruin it, so he keeps it pristine in his closet. He’ll even ensure it doesn’t collect dust. ✧König has a fear of horses. He had a Celtic mythology phase, read a spooky story with a Kelpie in it, and now they scare him. ✧Horangi used to have a gold tooth, and at one point his gambling debt got so high, he pulled it out and sold it. Also Horangi has bad teeth, lots of fillings & cavities. ✧Diabetes runs in Gaz’ family, so he constantly watches his sugar intake. But it’s really hard because he loves sweets. ✧09 Ghost is a trans man. This isn’t a Headcanon, it’s just true.

✧Johnny has oddly soft hands. He doesn’t do anything to them, and objectively, he should have tons of callouses. And yet? Nah, super smooth.

✧Gaz runs warm and prefers warm weather, Price runs warm and prefers cold, Johnny runs cold and prefers warm weather, Ghost runs cold and prefers cold weather. ✧Ghost hates being spooned cause he’s usually bigger, and the feeling of a body against his back, even if warm and alive? Reminds him too much of the feeling of a deadman pressing on his spine. He’d prefer to be the big spoon if he has to cuddle like that.

✧Rudy owns playboys & playgirl magazines. He just hides them SUPER well, because he’s kinda ashamed. He thinks people owning porn is fine, but his mother visits often and she’s a bit of a snoop. ✧Piggy backing off the last one, that’s also why Rudy is so sneaky. He wasn’t necessarily a super bad kid, and his parents weren’t necessarily unbearable. But he often got roped into trouble by others, and his parents were a bit strict, so he got good at sneaking. ✧Valeria & Alejandro are exes, and while there are many reasons they broke up? One was Valeria realizing she’s hella sapphic.

✧Valeria has a collection of naked women paintings. Like, super expensive ones? No one questions her because she’s a cartel queen, they think she just likes art. And she does. But she also is hella biased towards pretty painted ladies.

✧Gaz definitely has at least one crazy ex. Like “I’ll stalk your number, call your mom, and make a scene in public even if we broke up three years ago” crazy. ✧König was a pot smoking metalhead in high school, I will not elaborate. ✧Ghost tends to be clean shaven because the sensory feeling of stubble is uncomfortable, especially under his mask. But he likes facial hair on other people. ✧Farah is on the aroace spectrum. She’s not completely closed off to romance or sex, but like…it’s very very rare for her to experience those kinds of attractions. (Personally I think Alex is her exception, but I’m biased) ✧SPEAKING OF ALEX, man owns a cane. He decorates it, he also decorates his leg. With stickers. Some of them are kiddy/girly cause his niece gave him them. Do not question the Pinkie Pie on his prosthetic, reminds him of what he needs to come home for.

✧Nik & Price definitely have sucked each other’s dicks at least once. Look, besties bestie however they please. Also, c’mon. They’re military men.

✧Johnny somehow manages to miss something someone is telling him when they’re right by his ear. Yet! He’ll catch a random comment from across the room.

✧Also. Johnny is afraid of dogs. But he also likes dogs. It’s a very hard thing to deal with when he wants to pet what gives him heart palpitations.

✧König doesn’t talk to his mother at all. He occasionally talks to his father, but not much. But his grandma?? Every day. He will won’t miss a single day of contact.

✧Gaz writes poems or short stories sometimes as a coping mechanism. But he hides it cause he's embarassed. ✧Johnny had a full out punk phase in high school. He had spikes on a denim jacket, he had an anarchy pin on his rucksack. Full out. And though he didn't get caught, he probably did some teenage delinquent shit like graffiti. Thankfully, the more destructive stuff is more out of his system...mostly anyway. ✧Price didn't have a full hippie phase when he was younger, but he did have friends in that circle, so he picked up one or two things. ✧Ghost didn't have any aesthetic specifically growing up, but he thought Trad Goths were super cool to look at and he definitely got a lil inspiration from them in his everyday life. ✧Gaz also didn't have a particular aesthetic he fell into, but for some reason he was picked up by a group of scene kids in middle school. If you go through his oldest music playlist, EDM is in there a suspicious amount. ✧König is allergic to bees, so, anytime they're around he'll freak the fuck out and sprint away. If it weren't for the fact he had a reason to fear them, it'd look really silly. ✧Soap has ADHD, Ghost is autistic, Laswell has OCD, Rudy has AuDHD, and König is autistic.

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xatsperesso · 10 months

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Sleepover: Gambling edition

It all started with a knock on the door, with a lot of demon children hanging out, and with three adults diligently watching over them.

The atmosphere was kind of tense, and for good reasons at that. Lied took a glance at the adults in the room, and scooted over to where iruma was sitting.

"Hey," he whispered to Iruma, loud enough that the rest of the class will hear, but the adults on the other side of the room won't "Not that I mind or anything, but why are Kalego-sensei and Balam-sensei at the sleepover?"

"Why am I here again?" a very tired Kalego asked Opera who all but kidnapped him into the kids little party. He imagines Shichiro was also kidnapped by their senpai too.

"Last time Iruma held a party it got a little out of hand, so I brought you here-" Kalego snorted at that. "Brought" like he isn't here against his will "-to help me keep this one in check"

"Ah, but Sullivan-sama told me that he wanted me here to help you relax a bit , Opera-senpai" Kalego whipped his head so fast he swore he heard a crac.

"Did you just say that you willingly came here??"

"Well, that sucks," Lied sighed at Iruma answer. "Last time was a mistake! we didnt know that it was supposed to be diluted!"

"You knew and yet you drank it"

"Purson!"

Iruma had to agree with what Lied says. It is a bit awkward with the adults being here. There's no rowdy talking or friends daring eachother, they're all just awkwardly trying to quietly make conversation

Except for Jazz, whos's looking very thoughtfully at the adults.

"What are you thinking about, Jazz-kun?" Everyone in the room (except for Kalego-sensei and Balam-sensei, who seem to be having a very lively conversation) turned to look at Jazz.

"Well, I've been thinking," he quickly threw a glance at Kalego-sensei before moving to the centre and lowering his voice even further "isn’t it kinda unfair that the teachers get to gamble over which of us is dating, but we don't?" If anyone wasn't interested before, then they sure are now.

"I bet some of the teachers are dating each other. They all seem pretty close to each other" Allocer nodded as everyone scootched even closer to better hear each other.

"Woah woah wo-" Everyone quickly shushed Lied as to not grab their unwanted companies attention (unfortunately, several kids collectively shushing one of them is very suspicious to not watch closely)

"Sorry!" Lied whispered sheepishly "but are we seriously going to gossip about this in front of them?"

"True. We're going to need someway to distract them while the others places their bets" the second Kerori uttered the word 'bet', a very excited smile carved it's way through every demon's face (ah, purson thinks, this is what everyone felt during the music festival)

"But who knows how to distract Kalego-sensei, Balam-sensei and Opera-sensei?"

Collectively, all the young demons looked at a very not ready Iruma.

"They’re planning something"

"Kalego-kun, let the kids play. We're just here to make sure they don't injure themselves"

"Or drink too much, mess up the house beyond recognition and pass out leaving me to deal with thirteen teenagers having their first hangover"

"...that too"

"I mean, they all seem to watch me intensely whenever I use my spell to float, so maybe that?"

"Alright," Lied took the pencil and paper he asked from clara a second ago "since we all don't have money right now, and because some of you don't trust me-"

"You still haven't paid me back-"

"We're all going to write our bets down here. Do you want to write yours down before your very important mission, Soldier Iruma?"

"What?!" Azz exclaimed very loudly, and right behind him Iruma shook his head showing everyone that he doesn't want to place a bet

"How dare you suggest that Iruma-sama would participate in such cheap-"

"Do you have any bets to place, Azz?" Lied asked, handing the notebook to Azz mainly to spare his ears from one of Azz-kun's lengthy lectures

"Kalego-sensei is married to his work" Azz said with a serious face.

"Ooo! Me too, me too! I think-"

"Guys!" Ix clapped her hand to grab everyone's attention.

"Didn't Iruma want to show us the trick he's been working on?" She continued loudly, to allow the adults to clearly hear what she's saying

"Oh, yeah!" Iruma’s face lit up, as he quietly cast the spell and his body kept rising and rising, far away from hus friends so they would be out of the view of anyone who’s watching him, while Azz-kun and Sabro-kun stood below him in case he fell.

As Kalego watched Iruma floating further and further away from the ground, a question popped into his head.

"Why doesn't Iruma ever use his wings?"

Balam and Opera both slowly turned their heads, one looking at Kalego cautiously while the other looked exasperatedly.

"Kalego..humans don't have wings" now it was kalego's turn to slowly turn his head to his friends

"...what?"

"Yeah," all three adults jumped at a very quiet Purson appearing from nowhere "they also don't have horns or tails"

"Oh yeah," Balam looked at Purson, remembering a very embarrassing week "Purson also knows of Iruma’s nature"

Opera looked at Balam with shock. Their ears were flat against their head as he asked a question they very much feared the answer of.

"How, how many demons know?"

"Know what?" For the second time, the adults were startled this time by Gaap's appearance.

"That Iruma is an imaginary being" Purson answered

"That Iruma’s a human? I'm not sure about Azz and Clara, but I've figured it out during our first year so surely they have"

"Mhmm. By the way, why are you here and not with them?"

"Ah, right! Kerori had an idea for you, Purson!" The little demon quickly whispered to his classmate's ear before both of them went to join the rest of the class.

Kalego pinched his nose and let out a sigh as he foresaw the amount of headache this will cause him.

"We're gonna have to find out who knows of the boy's nature and who doesn't"

"How long have you two known?"

"Kalego discovered it last week, and I've known since the first year"

"...I'm going to have to relay this information to Sullivan-sama" Opera sighed as they watched Iruma descending carefully back to his friends. Sadly, they missed Iruma’s new trick. They’re going to have to ask Iruma-kun to perform it later so they can get a chance to see it.

"Robin-sensei and Kalego-sensei will obviously win!"

"Are you blind?! Kalego-sensei and Balam-sensei know each other since school! Plus, Robin-sensei is obviously with Orias-sensei!"

"I don't care as long as we all agree that Dali-sensei and Suzy-sensei are completely a thing"

"Are you kidding me?! There's no way Suzy-sensei would ever-"

"Hey, Iruma!" Lied waved at Iruma as he quickly floated towards Iruma "we still need more time. Do you know more ways to distract them?"

"Well, I know opera always watches anyone who plays with the hell-kitties like a hawk" Lied snorted, causing Iruma to tilt his head in confusion which Lied quickly waves away (he can’t believe anyone at this age still calls Infernal cats hell-kitties)

"I'm on it" Agares sped past them towards the two cats laying around on the fluffy carpet, adn proceeded to throw himself facedown on the floor, waiting for the cats to lay on him.

In less than a minute, Opera was watching a sleeping Agares who has two purring cats batting playfully at his hair.

"...alright, I didn't get to ask him if he want to bet or not but whatever. Do you know how else to distract them?"

"Hmm, oh! Clara, can you make chainsaws that can't actually hurt?"

"Of course! I can make them like rubber or plastic or-ooh! I can make chainsaw balloons that works!"

"Yes! Those will do great! Does anyone know how to juggle?"

"I do!" Gaap excitedly ran to them, happy that he gets to show his juggling skills

"Can you juggle chainsaws?" That seemed to make Gaap pale a little

"I-I can try?" Iruma beamed at his friend which helped soothe the poor scared boy

"Great!" Iruma took six balloon chainsaws from Clara, Gaap has never been more relieved to see a balloon, and handed three to Gaap "can you help me start them before we juggle? Oh, and let's go juggle over there"

"Is there anything else I need to know about Iruma?" Kalego knew that he should’ve picked up Balam's books on humans, but he was swept with correcting so many assignments that he didn't have any chance to read anything else (he should stop doubling the abnormal class's homework)

"You do know that he's a human, right sensei?" Kalego should really stop being startled by these hellions, or better yet should stop talking about Iruma all together around them (since when can these kid's sneak up on him?)

"Sabro, why do you know this?" A tired Kalego asked

"During our flying test Iruma told me that he healed the leaders leg using his blood, so I did some research on that and found out" That grabbed Opera's attention from the sleeping teens and the cats

"Pardon me, but how did Iruma get injured?"

"He went through the cutthroat valley-wait" something in the back of Kalego’s mind kept nagging at him that something's wrong

"Kalego," Balam's worried voice called him "did Iruma participate in the flying race last year?"

Ah, this is what was nagging Kalego.

"...shit"

"Kalego-IRUMA!" Everyone suddenly looked at Iruma, who was juggling chainsaws with Goemon?!

"IRUMA AND GOEMEN! LET GO OF THESE CHAINSAWS RIGHT THIS SECOND OR I SWEAR TO DELKIRA I WILL-"

Sure, Iruma and Gaap got lectured for thirty minutes over safety, common sense and what acceptable pranks to pull, but it was really fun juggling the balloon chainsaws. They actually brought Iruma so many memories.

And surely his classmates are all done-

"I just feel like Suzy-sensei and Raim-sensei would make such a cute couple!"

"And you're willing to bet actual money because of a feeling?"

"I bet Ifrit-sensei and Marbas-sensei are together"

"They're literally wearing wedding rings no one would bet against you on that one"

"So I'm gonna win the bet!"

"That's not how bets work, dumbass!"

"Are you sure this is what you want to bet on, Azz-kun?"

"There’s literally no one who would voluntarily put up with him"

So, they’re still not done.

But Iruma saw Jazz handing money to Purson, which puzzled him. He thought they were gonna write down their bets and hand over the money to the winners directly?

"Hey, Lied-kun," he looked over to a very sulking Lied who's playing in his ds alone on a bean bag "why are they giving money to Purson?"

"Apparently!" Lied threw his arms in the air as he huffed annoyingly "Purson is a much more trust worthy demon than I am!"

"I'll trust you with my money when you pay me back!"

"And I'll pay you back when I have money!"

"You literally bought three new games two days ago"

"Anyways," Lied turned to look at Iruma "they're still not done, so we're going to need some more time"

"Well, if I pull anymore stunts they might actually ground me, but maybe Sabro could tap dance? I saw him do it once and he's very good at it! What do you think, Sabro?"

"Sure, I don't have any bets to place anyway. A cool demon king doesn't place bets on people's love life"

Sabro walked to the centre of the room. He crossed his arms, and jumped into the air clacking his heels three times.

Everyone stopped what they were doing to look curiously at what Sabro is doing. He turned to look at his classmates and yelled at the top of his lungs "CHOOSE A SONG!"

"Gyari's new single!" A very excited Kerori screamed

Sabro smiled viciously as Iruma played the song on the room's speaker, and Sabro started dancing. He captivated everyone with his dancing, except for Purson who went around the room asking the demons what they bet on.

"Woah. He really is good" Lied exclaimed, before a very curious question popped into his mind

"Hey, Iruma, how did you learn how to juggle chainsaws?"

"I used to do it at the circus when I was young! But they insisted I use real chainsaws, I almost lost a finger that one time!" Iruma laughed at the fun memories before continuing to watch Sabro who's footwork was starting to get really intense.

Lied was left to watch Iruma in horror as he digested what was just said to him.

"...what?"

"He really is good at this" Balam mused as he continued watching Sabro smoothly dance to the peak of the song

"He is," Kalego commented, watching Sabro a second longer before turning to Balam "Do you know anyone else who knows about Iruma?"

"I know of Iruma’s nature, if that's what you mean, sensei" Kalego closed his eyes and took a deep breath, because really, he should have expected this. At this point it'd be better if he asked who doesn't know.

"And how, pray tell, do you know?" He turned to look at Caim, the fourth person to admit that he knows that Iruma is a human (after this is all done he's gonna have a talk with Iruma this is truly getting ridiculous)

"I was having a chat with Jazz's familiar and he told me that Jazz has been stressing over what to do with such sensitive information" at this point Balam is just trying his hardest not to laugh at Kalego's tired face. He does feel sorry for Opera though. They don't seem to be taking all of this information too well.

"And how does Jazz know??" It's getting too hard not to laugh at Kalego. He shouldn’t laugh at his friend's suffering, but it's just so funny.

"Iruma accidently told him at the last slumber party when he drank too much relax juice"

"Told me what?"

"That he's a human"

"Ah, yeah that. I'm cool with that and all but he told me when he was drunk, you know?"

Opera is just looking sadly at the ground. All this time they've been going under tye assumption that only they, the chairman and Bachiko know of Iruma’s origins. Are they really fit to be called Iruma’s bodyguard if they can't keep track of who knows his most intimate secret?

"By the way, sensei wants to know who else knows"

"Knows what?" Allocer asked Caim curiously, much to Kalego’s chargin

"That Iruma’s a human" and with each kid coming closer, curious as to why their classmates are surrounding their teachers

"Wait, didn't we agree that we won't talk about this until Iruma tells us himself?" Kalego felt his patience running thin

"Talk about what?" Until he just snapped

"Alright!" His voice boomed across the room, startling all the younglings in the room (serves them right for almost stopping his heart multiple times)

"How many of you brats know of Iruma’s nature?!" He screamed at the twelve demons in front of him, and to his annoyance, Balam's amusement, and Opera's Alarm, almost all the kids raised their arm, save for two very confused demon's and one mortified human.

"Iruma-chi's nature?" Clara asked, feeling very left out as she saw that almost all her friends knew something about Iruma that she doesn't.

"Excuse me, but what do you mean by this statment, Kalego-sensei?" Azz felt embarrassment as he asked this question, because almost everyone knows what sensei means except for him! And it's a question about Iruma-sama! How does he not know?

"You know, that Iruma’s a human" Gaap said, unaware of the dumbfounded looks Azz and Clara are throwing him, nor the fact that Iruma’s near tears "I apologise, Iruma-kun, for not informing you that we know sooner, but we thought it'd be better if we waited until you trusted us enough with this information"

"...what?" Azz and Clara asked very, very quietly as everyone in the room slowly realized that Azz and Clara, tha two demons that are glued to Iruma at the hip, are the only ones who don't know.

"Huh?!" Poor stunned Iruma doesn't know how to deal with the fact that all of his classmates mow know of his identity.

He really doesn't knows what to do now?

Deep in the castle, Sullivan sits alone in his room contemplating whether it'd be better to let the youth have fun on their own or if he can go and join them.

He really wants to have a slumber party with Iruma, it's not fair that Opera and his friends get to be there and he doesn't! So not fair!

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 years

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Can you do something with the devil and and an angel that ends up being a customer to the bar at the casino bc the job they have in heaven is stressful? Just imagine how awkward that would be at first lol-

"Oh hello, angel! What can I-”

“Ohhh haha, I get--*hic*--it! Cuz you’re a literal angel!”

“What’s an angel like you doin’ here? Couldn’t resist the temptation, eh?”

“Ethan, Rummy..don’t be rude.” Ginette lightly scolded her fellow bartenders, before turning back to you with an apologetic smile. “Sorry ‘bout that. What’ll it be today, sweetie?”

You just sighed, keeping your wings tucked against your sides as you gazed at the menu for a brief moment. It wasn’t often that you came down to the casino’s bar, but today you especially needed a break from your heavenly duties. Just a small one. Nobody upstairs would even know you stopped in.

"I’ll have the-”

“Well I’ll be damned! An angel in the Devil’s Casino?!!”

Hearing the laughter of a certain devilish king, you looked to see the Devil himself stepping up to the counter, intrigued by your presence.

Most customers would quiver at the sight of him--or easily fall for his deals and promises. But you weren’t deceived by his tricks, nor were you about to jump up and reprimand him for anything. Instead you just politely smiled. “Yep. Is..there a problem?”

He blinked several times, huffing. “Why--no. I...I welcome the residents of all kinds. But..I mean...you’re an angel in a casino.”

“And..?”

“And a casino is, ya know, a place that runs off of temptation and sin? A place that goes against everything the big man upstairs taught you??!” His eye twitched.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” You waved him off, turning back to Ginette as you ordered your drink. Even still you could sense the Devil’s yellow gaze lingering on you, so you looked at him again. “Before you ask, I have no interest in gambling.”

“That doesn’t matter! I thought your job was to lead poor souls away from this place. Is there some sort of protest going on?”

“This isn’t exactly a “protest”. And for your information, we angels get different jobs every day.”

“Oh? So what was today’s “job” that was so unbearable that it drove you here, of all places?” Propping his trident against the counter, Devil leaned closer to you with interest.

After getting your drink, you took a sip and sighed in content, savoring the taste. Then you put the glass back down before explaining your assignment to him.

“I had to help the ghosts haunting the second mausoleum find peace. They keep freaking out Grim and he refuses to sleep because of all the noises he hears at night.” You took a slightly bigger swig. “Stupid pink spirits..they just wanna make a mess out of alllll the artifacts. My wings can parry slap them to get their attention, and even then they’re stubborn little fellas. If I don’t meet a certain quota I get in trouble with my superiors. As if I’m the one who put them there...!”

The demon king only stared as you rambled on and on, finally understanding your reasons. He thought that heaven was all about angels frolicking in the clouds, helping souls enter the pearly gates, and blessing children’s dreams...but it turns out it’s a tough job even for you.

So much so it tempted you to come here for a break.

As soon as you finished your rant, a devious grin appeared on his face. “So you say those pesky ghosts won’t leave? Must be such a burden for-”

“No.”

The grin quickly fell. “....you didn’t even let me-”

“I know what you're plotting. I'm immune to your temptations, Lucifer. Your flattery and petulance won’t get you anywhere with me.”

Growling, a bit of fire flashed in his eyes, though he composed himself and collected his trident and a random drink left on the table. “Fine. It was worth a shot...I'll leave you be. Do enjoy your stay here. You’re welcomed back anytime.” He chuckled before finally leaving you alone.

Ginette was only half-listening to the conversation as she cleaned a glass, but she took pity on you for putting up with him. “Nice one. Ya know very few folks get mouthy with the Devil an’ live to tell the tale.”

“Guess I’m lucky then.” You smiled lightly and pushed your nearly-empty glass towards her. “When you get the chance, I’ll have another round."

Yep.

This casino was your sweet retreat.

#clanask #anonymous #cuphead x reader #cuphead devil x reader #devil x reader #angel reader #tipsy troop #headcanons

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wildflowerteas · 30 days

Note

first half of our tsp ch15 reactions!!

i make such a big deal of sitting down to respond to these it's so. i have a fresh pot of tea ( Japanese sweet potato and chestnut with black sugar and some cookies, but that's beside the point ) and my hair is washed and my paper outlines are done and i can devote all my attention to giggling at my laptop screen like a freak. okay lets do this STARTING WITH SKK. and Orphydice. Because to love is to turn around. God . . . i really hope my insanity about dazai's suicidality in this fic shows. it's so complicated that it's got my brain going around in circles--at the start of the fic he's just burning through life and his job for mori, hoping that once everything is resolved and the people he loves are safe, he can kill himself as punishment for everything that he's done. but then he meets Chuuya, and suddenly he can feel good and useful for a reason and in a way that isn't so violent, and living for the sake of feeling that is enticing. but at the same time, he keeps pushing, slipping up, losing control, killing, and saying things that are almost incriminating because he wants Chuuya to know him and wants to see what he'll do when he does.

"falling for it just the way he's supposed to" (^_^)

TALS THESTJHGSA! THE TheTJSHJJA Yes they haven't said I Love You out loud yet because even though they're very clearly far gone, that would be too real for the both of them

Gun and No Badge . . . yeah. He was wearing his badge when he went home with Chuuya that first night. ALSO YEAH I realized as I was writing that this is the second New Year's kiss I've written??? how did we end up here . . .

sskk * explodes into red mist**

Woah picking up on the accent mention???? yes. Atsushi's gotten better at it, and at assimilating, but his first language is Japanese like Kouyou. The fact that you know nothing about TSP Atsushi is 100% intentional. even within the story, he's unknown to almost everyone. he's the golden boy at the precinct but there have been no mentions of his previous education, his time at the academy, or where he grew up ( beyond what he mentions himself in his POV ). The character that knows him best, and who he's revealed the most to is actually Mori if you can believe it. Most of the other characters are content to tell him things because of his open nature, and they don't even notice that the conversation is one-way until after it's over.

THE CROSSWORD. CRAZY. YOU'RE THE FIRST PERSON TO NOTICE THAT. Yes...it's a gambling term. And the opposite is 'All on Black'

'fic author made for me' . . . (￣▽￣*)ゞ blushing and giggling and kicking my feet. WAIT WHYAM I GETTING CURSED?

that party image is exactly what it feels like when i see that I've been name-dropped in the discord gc.

i left the way they ended the night of new year's up to interpretation, because anything could have happened, really. they could have snuck off and left their dates behind to be in each other's company ( kouyou and yosano were bound to meet, anyway, considering Dazai's payment for her coming with him to the party was drinks at the Double Black -- which is coming up soon!! ). Or they could have gone back to the party, Dazai trying to shake off the feeling of having forgotten about something important, too caught up in the relief of having convinced Chuuya of his innocence. they really are unsalvageable, and were bound to end up like this regardless.

"you're an angel." was 100% intentional and you will be seeing it again because I'm insane

'I feel like the party was some fucked up fever dream' <- EXACTLY HOW IT WAS SUPPOSED TO FEEL. THATS WHY I STARTED THE NEXT SKK SCENE ON A CLASSIC ‘WAKING UP' MOMENT. OOHHH MY GOD THANK GOODNESS.

aha . .. ha..

anyway.

THANK YOU FOR READING!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#ask

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hinatastinygiant · 4 months

Text

5 | 𝓦𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓨𝓸𝓾.

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader

The Author

"Hi," you smile at Thor when you finally meet back up with him.

"Are you ready?" he asks you a bit worriedly. "You won't be able to unsee what's about to happen."

"What is it? Is it some sort of illegal gambling? Or-"

"Nothing like that," he laughs. "Just wear this and keep your head down."

Thor places a black cloak around you and puts the hood over your head.

"Well, what is it like then?" you still ask him.

"You'll see," he tells you, taking in a deep breath.

You allow him to place his hand in yours before sneaking out of the palace grounds with you at his side. You walk down the grand courtyard and onto the streets. Eventually, the two of you reach a tavern-like establishment.

"The Golden Palace," you read the sign above the door.

"Welcome, Your Highness," the bartender says. "Who's the lucky lass at your side? Thought tomorrow was your wedding night?"

"Ahh, but princesses don't let you have any fun, do they, Thor?" another man comments.

"Which is why I've got this one instead," Thor nods, leading you into the bar. "Her name is Jane, if you must know."

"Jane, eh? Mind if I get a look at her?" a third chimes in. But just before his fingers can reach your hood, Thor stands in between the two of you. "She's new. And I don't intend on sharing just yet."

"Sharing what?" you whisper to just him. You're not sure why, but his face reddens a bit as he pushes you to the back of the tavern and into an empty booth.

"Stop, Y/N," he shakes his head. "Just stop talking, okay?"

"What, why? I didn't even do anything," you begin to protest.

"Because," he begins, though he falters as he's not quite sure how to explain. "Shit, this is going to be a lot harder than I realized. You're too innocent."

"Innocent? What does that have to do with anything? I simply wondered what he wanted to share!"

"Just, stay here," he tells you.

"Wait," you reach for his hand. "Where are you going?"

"To get us drinks. Now stop talking. Please!"

Thor pulls out of your grasp and walks over to the bar, ordering drinks for the two of you. You sigh as you push your hood up ever so slightly to take a look around. The sight before you is unlike anything you've ever seen before. There are dozens of men sitting with half-naked women on their laps. You can feel your face heat up as you begin to wonder what the hell they're doing.

"Your drink, Miss Jane," Thor says as he comes back over and places a glass on the table.

"What is this place?" you quietly ask.

"Didn't you read the sign?" he hums. "It's the Golden Palace."

"It's not like any other palace I've ever been to," you murmur.

"Well, that's because it's not," he laughs.

"I don't understand. Why are they... and you're just... Why are you doing this?!"

"Relax," he chuckles, taking a sip from his cup. "They're not bothering anyone. They just enjoy a good time is all. You'll see when it's your turn."

"My turn? I beg your pardon but I don't think I'll be sitting on any man's lap half-naked for no reason anytime soon!" you whisper shout at him.

"You really are something, you know? It's not for nothing, Y/N. You'll thank me later."

"Doubtful," you grumble.

"Look," he begins, leaning back in his chair. "There are only a few things we princes can do to relieve ourselves of the stresses we go through every day. This is one of them."

"This?" you question as you look around once more. "This is where Loki goes, too, isn't it?"

"I, uh," Thor stutters. "Well, when I said princes..."

"What do they do? He brings them back to the palace and kisses them all night? That's just like him."

"What are you going on about? Who kisses people all night long?" he chuckles.

"It doesn't matter," you shake your head, crossing your arms.

"Balder is the one who taught us about this place," Thor sighs. "It's a good stress reliever."

"And the women?"

"Well, I can't speak for Balder or Loki, but I can assure you, I've never once asked one to kiss me all night," he smirks.

"I don't believe that for a second," you retort.

"Then believe this," he adds, downing the rest of his drink and placing his cup down. He then calls for one of the half-naked woman to come over and sit on his lap.

"What are you doing?!" you exclaim.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he grins.

"I told you, I don't-"

"Oh, relax," he laughs as the woman sinks her teeth into his neck. "It feels good, okay?"

"I still don't understand what the point is."

"You will, Y/N," he sighs, running his hands down the woman's sides. "Sometimes, you can feel it in your gut when there's something... off, and sometimes, that feeling doesn't go away until you've relieved it. Do you understand?"

"Not even a little bit," you shake your head.

"You're hopeless," he huffs, pushing the woman away from him and standing to his feet. "I'm getting us another drink. Don't move."

The topless woman grumbles as she sits down beside you. "He's a cute one, isn't he? It's too bad he's a prince. I'd love to keep fucking him in my bed every night."

"Fucking him?" you repeat just as Thor slams three glasses on the table and clears his throat.

"Well now, I see the two of you have been getting along," he hums, a smirk on his face.

"Of course, darling," the woman purrs, leaning into him and placing her lips against his.

"What are you doing, Thor? We're- I mean, you're getting married tomorrow."

"Don't worry," he smirks, looking at you. "She'll be gone by then."

"Why are you keeping her here? Wouldn't you much rather go to the backroom?" the woman giggles, grabbing ahold of his pants.

"That's not necessary," Thor quickly shakes his head. "Jane, you look like you're about to pass out."

"I feel sick," you tell him.

"We'll have plenty of time to do this, too," he grins, letting his hands run up and down the woman's arms. "Tomorrow, I'll have my own palace to fuck my wife in. How about you come visit us after?"

"Oh, you're a naughty one, aren't you?" the woman grins down at him. "Bet the princess won't be happy with that."

"She'll be satisfied, neither of you need to worry about that," he says in a way that makes you clench your legs together. You're not quite sure what he's referring to, but it makes your whole body light on fire.

***

Three more drinks later you find yourself absolutely plastered. The half-naked woman has been long gone, replaced by you on Thor's lap. He cups your cheeks and whispers dirty things into your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

"You look so sexy, Y/N," he compliments. "How am I supposed to keep my hands off of you?"

Though you're not sure what all of his words mean, you're too drunk to care. His wandering hands are doing enough to keep you content.

"Let's get out of here," he suddenly groans, lifting you off his lap.

"Why?" you ask, pouting as he removes his hands.

"Because if we don't, I'm going to fuck you in front of everyone," he admits as you stumble to your feet.

"What does that even mean?" you question as he pulls the hood further over your head. "It's something we'll discuss after the wedding."

"No," you shake your head, just as stubborn as he and his brothers are. "Tell me."

"Y/N, please," he whispers, trying not to draw any attention to the two of you. "I can't."

"Yes you can, but you won't. I don't understand-"

He quickly silences you as he grabs your wrist and tugs you closer to him. He places your hand on his crotch, making your eyes widen.

"Does that clear things up for you, princess?"

"Um, uh, I-" you stutter, looking up at him with innocent eyes.

"Exactly," he nods, pulling away and leaving the tavern. You quickly follow after him like a lost puppy, your heart racing.

"What are you thinking about?" Thor then asks as you continue to follow him.

"Hm?" you hum, glancing up at him. "Oh, nothing. I'm fine."

"You're a terrible liar, you know," he sighs, looking down at you.

"Sorry, it's just," you pause, looking at the ground. "I wasn't expecting that. I still don't really know what to think."

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he suddenly asks, stopping to turn and face you instead of marching back to the palace.

"No," you shake your head. "You didn't. But I just wish you'd told me what was going on. Maybe then I wouldn't have freaked out so much."

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he sighs, wrapping his arms around your waist. "I just have so many mixed feelings. I know how you feel about..."

"It's nothing," you gulp, looking away. Ever since your third drink, you kept seeing Loki's face everywhere, but you hadn't wanted to bring it up.

"It's not nothing," he shakes his head. "I just wish I made you happy."

"Why are you doing this, Thor," you bite the inside of your cheek, looking away.

"What do you mean, love?" he hums, his brows furring in confusion.

"I mean, why are you saying this?" you clarify as you tighten your fists.

"Because it's not hard to see the way he looks at you," he smiles, his voice softer.

"Who? Loki?"

"Yes," he nods. "It's obvious. He's loved you forever. And you, you're not blind. You know that. You love him, too."

You've heard these words before. Back in the time prison.

"You know," he begins again, looking down at the ground. "He told me once when we were younger that he knew you were the one... The day he met you."

"You're lying," you laugh nervously, feeling your body tense up. "He hates me."

"He's never hated you. Quite the opposite, Y/N," he admits.

"If that was true, things would've turned out differently," you mutter.

"Not necessarily. He knew you were promised to me. He knew his time was limited. There's no way for him to break that contract. No matter what he did, you were always going to be mine."

You should be pissed at him for insinuating that you were his possession, but that ache between your legs only grows as he lifts your chin to make you look up at him.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because," he shrugs. "I think you should go to him."

***

The next morning you wake up in a cold sweat. You gasp as you sit up in bed, thoughts from the previous night flooding back to your memory. Quickly, you pull yourself out of bed, change, and reach for the time remote on your bedside table. With a deep breath, you turn the dial and step through a shining door and onto the moon Lamentis-1

You rush to the train station and allow the same guard as last time to shove you onto the train. You then make your way to the back of the train, hoping he'll be there. But instead, there is nothing but an empty table. Your heart aches as you take the same spot where he sat. How could you be so foolish? Of course, he wouldn't be here anymore. It was already the end of the world.

"Are you going to sit there all day or are you going to order something?" a voice suddenly snaps you back to reality. You glance up to see a man staring at you, an unamused look on his face.

"The planet is about to crash, killing us all, and you're wondering what I'm going to order?" you scoff. "You can't be serious."

"Oh yeah?" he grinds his teeth before grabbing you by the arm and yanking you out of the chair. However, before he can raise his fist to your face, another door appears from thin air.

"What the hell?" the man stumbles back in shock. "Are you some kind of fucking witch?"

"Y/N Aurelius, you are wanted by time variance authority," the TVA agent says as he steps out of the door and towards you.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," you grumble as the agent slaps the same collar as before around your neck. You're then yanked back through the portal.

LOKI'S P.O.V.

"No! No more!" I shout once we get back from visiting the time portal where I had last seen Y/N. I suppose she had managed to make her escape, removing half her dress in the process which is an unexpected bonus. But I don't let Mobius on to the fact that I'm the reason she got out. "I demand you to show me where she is! Or I will not help you any longer."

"I-I'm telling you she must've escaped. B-15, please notify the timekeepers of this new development," Mobius stutters.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" Loki smirks, leaning in a bit closer to him.

"Nothing," he shakes his head, taking a step back.

"You might as well let me go," I sigh, putting my feet up. If Y/N was smart, she has probably stayed in one of the apocalypses some world had to offer. They'll never find her.

Y/N'S P.O.V.

"Get your hands off of me!" you shout as you're shoved through the portal and end up back in the last place you want to be. That being said, the person who immediately stands when he notices your presence, does make things a bit better.

"Y/N?" Loki gasps, pushing past Mobius and the guards.

"Don't get too excited. She's not staying," the man says, tightening his grip on your arm.

"What is this?" Loki questions, his gaze landing on the collar around your neck. He reaches out to touch you, but before he can he's warped back into the chair. "Fucking hell!"

His curse, now with a newfound meaning to you, causes your face to heat up and your eyes to widen. It doesn't go unnoticed by Loki who's eyes narrow as he looks at you. "Are you married?" he then suddenly questions.

"What?" you scoff. "Why are you asking me that now? Do you really think I'd be here if I was in the middle of my wedding?"

"Answer the question, Y/N," he replies, a smirk appearing on his lips.

"No," you shake your head.

"Liar," he chuckles, standing from his seat.

"Seriously, I'm not. What makes you even think-"

"Because you've got that look in your eyes."

"What look?" both you and Mobius ask at the same time, earning a sharp glare from Loki.

"Stay out of this, Mobius," he grumbles. "I mean that look you get after spending the night with your lover. Like you've gotten to do whatever you wanted and you're satisfied with that."

So he's insinuating the same thing that Thor had been last night. You just don't understand what could be so worth getting this worked up about.

"Loki, I swear-"

"This has been a lovely reunion," Mobius suddenly interrupts, causing Loki to shut his eyes from frustration. "But I simply brought you here so you'd get to hear it straight from the TVA... Loki is to be pruned this afternoon and that, by association, means you will be, too."

"What?!" you both gasp.

"Why the hell do I have to be pruned? I didn't even do anything wrong!"

"Well," he smirks. "Technically you did. You were wanted by the TVA for this case and now you're here so it's perfect timing, really."

He then walks over to his time remote on the table and opens up one of those red doors. Not that gods-forsaken prison again. But before you can protest, you're pushed right inside. You fall to the ground with a thud, only to be pushed back again as Loki's body is shoved right on top of yours. You look up at him with wide eyes as his arms cage you in.

"Hi," he smirks down at you.

"Loki..." you mutter, unable to speak.

"Yes, darling?"

"You're on top of me."

"I am aware," he nods.

"I'm getting married."

"I know."

"So, get off."

"As soon as I figure out why you're not wearing your wedding dress, I'll think about it."

"Excuse me?"

"Come on, Y/N," he rolls his eyes. "I know you're not an idiot. Why did you let yourself get caught? Why did you even run away in the first place? Are you trying to run away from your own wedding? To me, that seems a little stupid, even for you."

"Fuck you," you huff, turning your head to the side.

"Ah, so you do know what that means," he grins, cupping your cheek so you're forced to gaze up at him.

"Not really," you admit, that strange warmth pooling down between your legs again. "Thor tried to show me but I was drunk. So, I'm not entirely sure what the fuss is about."

"What the hell was he thinking?" he groans, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. Your whole body lights on fire.

"Loki?" you call out his name gently once more. "Can you tell me what it means?"

The Author

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bitchinfawkseh · 3 months

Text

Heaven Knows Your Name, I've Been Praying: Chapter 13

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Summary: It's been one year since Sam and Dean last saw Cheryl. When she suddenly shows up, baring an apology for her absence, Dean is hurt and reluctant to forgive her.

W.C: 6146

Warnings: Alcoholism, depression, one mention of drugs, arguing/fights.

[A/N] Here's to my return! Expect regular weekly updates on Fridays! Tell me what you guys think, and thank you for reading 😉

Masterlist | AO3

One year later…

Aside from the odd text or quick phone call, Cheryl barely contacted Sam and Dean. After all they had been through together, she abandoned them – left them as if they were nothing. In hindsight, they knew they wouldn't realistically be able to always be there for Cheryl. They had no real home, no jobs, nothing that was real or theirs aside from the Impala. Deep down they knew that she needed stability to heal, but they didn't know why she wanted them to leave. Why their presence made her depressed. Dean was especially hurt, he'd open himself up, asked her out, and said that he wanted to go on numerous dates with her – all for her to leave him. That would be the last time he attempts to start something with her.

Dean wrapped his lips around the mouth of the beer bottle, taking a generous swig before he slammed it onto the sticky bar table. Eleven months, three weeks and two days. Those were all he had left to live since he made a deal to save Sam. Since then, he'd been living life to its fullest – drinking, hooking up with random women, gambling and recklessly getting into bar fights.

He belched and let out a low chuckle when Sam sent him a disgusted look. “Hey, it's natural.” He excused. Sam sighed and shook his head in dismissal, the least he could have done was cover his mouth. “Whatever…” He mumbled. He tapped his fingers against their Dad's journal, briefly forgetting the current page that he was studying. “I talked to Cheryl today,” Sam announced. Dean's face fell and his nostrils flared in annoyance, he didn't want to hear about her. Not after she abandoned them like that. When he didn't reply or ask how she was, Sam just started to tell him what they talked about. “Her, uh, friend. Marisol died a while ago, she said she hasn't called because of the funeral and stuff.” He said. Dean's lips thinned into a straight line and his heart sank, he felt… sad for her despite it all. “We… talked some more. She asked me why you keep dodging her calls,” Sam continued. “I told her I don't know, but you should talk to her dude. I can't keep lying for you.”

“You don't have to, tell her I don't wanna talk to her,” Dean grumbled angrily. Sam's face softened briefly, he knew his brother's feelings towards Cheryl – he went from being absolutely smitten to wanting nothing to do with her. And he didn't blame him, for a while, he didn't want anything to do with her either. That was until she finally communicated with him (because she was able) why she didn't want to have them around, why she'd rather be alone with Carlos.

While it was still a shitty thing that she did, Sam understood why she did it, and he forgave her. Dean on the other hand was completely unwilling to even hear her out. Hence why he was ignoring her calls and texts. “Look… Dean…” Sam started. Maybe he could try to convince Dean to talk to her, or (hopefully) get him to see things from Cheryl's point of view. If Sam was incapacitated like she was, he could definitely see himself doing the same thing she did. “You should talk to her, hear her out. I mean, you gotta think, the doctor said she shouldn't have lived. That'd mess me up if I was told that.” Sam reasoned. Dean sighed and rubbed his chin, his light stubble scratched his fingertips pleasantly. While he had some sort of point, his anger was too strong to let him relent his hatred for her at the moment. “I'm not in the mood, Sammy. Let's just drink, alright?”

That night, Dean drunkenly dreamt of Cheryl. He blamed it on Sam bringing her up before he got plastered, but even a baby would know that's not true. He dreams of her more than he'd like to admit.

A field of vibrant tulips waved in the breeze, it was almost as if they were saying hello. For miles, all that surrounded them was tulips and grass. It was peaceful. It was home.

Dean sat on the front porch steps of Bobby's house, they overlooked the tulip field. He hugged his knees to his chest and paid attention to his breathing. The slow rise and fall of his chest. “You know, my favourite colour is red.” Cheryl mused, gently bumping his arm with her elbow. Dean's lips stretched up into a gentle smile, and he turned his gaze towards her. “I know. I remember.” He replied. Cheryl smiled wide, her eyes crinkled with slight joy at the fact. He remembered everything about her. “Of course you do.” She teased. He chuckled softly and shook his head slowly. She remembered everything about him.

“I made an apple pie for dessert.” She announced. Dean licked his lips and waggled his brows, which made her giggle. He appreciated her cooking, everything she made down to cup-of-noodles tasted wonderful. “You'll have to wait, it's cooling.” Cheryl grinned. He leaned closer to her and lightly grazed his fingers across the skin of her cheek before he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Silver hoops.

“That's fine.” He whispered. Cheryl turned to stare down at her knees, she pouted her lips together ever so slightly, it was hardly noticeable. Dean noticed. She sucked a sharp breath and abruptly met his gaze, sadness painted across her face. “I'm sorry.” She said.

Dean's eyes snapped open and he blinked rapidly as he came to. The dream was still fresh in his mind, it was as if he were face-to-face with Cheryl again. Her eyes, her hair, her cheeks, her lips. They all felt so real. He was shocked that he remembered her little quirks too, like her smile lines or how she pouts her lips together when she's focused. Dean rubbed his eyes and let out a groan as he reluctantly sat up in bed. An instant hangover headache hit him like a freight train, leaving him irritable and tired.

“Shit.” He grumbled under his breath as a wave of pain swam up his back. If he was going to die, at least he wouldn't have to deal with hangovers anymore. Although going to Hell may be worse than a hangover… joking about his doomed fate kept him sane, even if it made Sammy uncomfortable.

“Finally,” Sam spoke up. He rose out of the small chair that he had taken camp in hours prior and sauntered towards the bed. “You stink.” He muttered and wrinkled his nose in disgust. Dean rolled his eyes and threw the covers off of himself and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He probably was a little musty, the last time he remembered showering was after their last encounter with Bela, which was three days ago. Sam glanced at the clock on the nightstand briefly and thinned his lips. “Uh, go shower. I know a cool breakfast place that serves Nutella pancakes.” He said. Dean cocked a brow and looked him up and down, Sam seemed like he was in a rush. “What's got your panties all up in a twist?” He smirked. Sam's brows knitted together and he swiped his tongue across his front teeth. If he told Dean what he was planning, he'd refuse to show up. “Nothing, just hungry. Hurry up.”

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“Why did you wanna come here again?” Dean asked with a cocked brow as they strolled into the Mom and Pop diner. These things were all over the country, there was nothing special about them at this point. Sam shrugged and glanced down either end of the diner, “Nutella pancakes.” He muttered. Once his eyes settled on a booth tucked back into the far corner and the top of a head full of dark hair, he immediately started in that direction. “Hey, let's sit there.” Sam called back to Dean. He raised his brows and pursed his lips together, Sam never really cared about where they sat. Nor did he care about things like Nutella pancakes. “Mmmkay…” Dean mumbled as he followed Sam.

Cheryl anxiously tapped her fiery red fingernails on the simple white cup that held her coffee. She was excited to see Sam and Dean again, but also very nervous – she hoped that Dean would be happy to see her. But she knew that he wouldn't be happy to see her, and she understood why. She wouldn't be happy if he did this to her. Some part of her hoped that he still liked her, and found her pretty, especially now since she looked and was so different. Her hair is shorter and black now, she's much skinnier, and her wardrobe is impressive, to say the least. Being bedridden for months and having access to Carlos’ debit card made her shopping addiction a hundred times worse. Once she was able to be a person again, she started to visit bars more frequently, get wasted, and have sex with strangers – all because she was scared that she wasted her life. It wasn't until some guy offered her some coke that she snapped out of it, and boy was she ashamed of herself. Cheryl felt disgusted for letting herself have meaningless sex, that's not what it ever was to her. Sex is supposed to be intimate, and loving… you're supposed to do it with someone you care about – not random men and women. With whatever dignity she had left, she decided to stop having sex altogether until she was ready for something real.

Carlos says that she should go to some AA meetings with him, but she hasn't been able to admit that she has a problem yet.

She took a tiny sip of her coffee, enjoying the sweet taste that hit her tongue almost immediately. Cheryl set the cup down and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Her heart nearly jumped into her throat when she saw Sam begin to pace over to her. He's here. He came – with Dean. She wondered what Sam must've told him to get him to come here. Cheryl quickly jumped to her feet to greet the two of them, an awkward smile on her face. “Hey…” She mumbled.

Dean's eyes widened as soon as they landed on Cheryl, taking in her new appearance. She was much slimmer, had shoulder-length jet-black hair, and her outfit was – well. Different. Flared blue jeans paired with a tube top that matched her nails and a dark leather coat with tassels. Her accessories went well with it too, small white triangular sunglasses were perched on the top of her head, and she was wearing her infamous silver hoops. If he weren't gawking at her, he probably would've lost his shit much sooner. Finally, his brows furrowed, and his jaw clenched. What the hell did she want?

Cheryl sucked in a desperate breath when she saw Dean take a couple of steps back. “Please wait! Five minutes, please. I would just like to talk…” She begged. Sam frowned and turned to look at Dean, it was easy for him to voice his hate for Cheryl. He was always preaching how he didn't like her anymore and that he didn't like her all that much to begin with – but that was merely a lie. “C'mon, Dean.” He started. When Dean's accusing eyes meet Sam's, he grits his teeth. “Don't have any regrets,” Sam whispered just loud enough for him to hear. Don't have any regrets when you die is what he meant. Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes before reluctantly going to sit at the booth. When he brushed past Sam, he sent him a glare. “I'm gonna kick your ass later for this.” He growled under his breath.

Cheryl flashed the boys an awkward smile as she watched Dean gobble up the breakfast sandwich with extra bacon that she bought him. Sam was picking at his plate of eggs and toast, but he returned her smile. She glanced down at her thighs and tried to ignore her rapid heart rate that was causing her too much anxiety. “I'd like to start off by saying that I'm sorry,” She exhaled. “I… I didn't intend to abandon you guys, just after the crash and the coma… and then everything else… I was scared I guess. I felt weak and vulnerable – I thought you guys would've seen me differently. Like, you wouldn't think that I was a good hunter anymore or you wouldn't take me seriously.” She rambled. She clenched her fists, and let out a shaky breath, she hoped to God that Dean would listen and forgive her. “And not that this is any sort of excuse, but I got really bad there for a while. I wish I had gone about it better, I really do. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” Cheryl frowned.

Dean sighed and screwed his eyes shut, while her explanation made sense, part of him couldn't bring himself to forgive her. “You could've told us.” He said, shaking his head. “You could've fucking told us what the hell was goin’ on with you rather than kickin’ us to the damn curb!” He nearly shouted. Cheryl blinked in surprise and swallowed hard, her lips pursing as she did. “Dean, I'm sorry. I really am. Can we talk more?” She asked gently. Dean scoffed and shook his head in disbelief, she didn't deserve the light of day – let alone his time. “Nah, as far as I'm concerned, your five minutes is up.” He grumbled before storming out of the diner. Cheryl's heart jumped into her throat, and her eyes glazed with tears as she watched Dean leave. She thought that she might be able to convince him to forgive her, but it turned out she was wrong. Sam sucked in a sharp breath and turned his full body to watch Dean leave. “I'll talk to him,” He comforted. He waved his hands and practically leaped out of his seat, and took a couple of steps backwards. “I will, okay? I'll call you later.” Sam said. Cheryl only nodded and hung her head, her hair masked her pained expression and the one tear that managed to slip. She felt stupid for believing that Dean would understand.

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Cheryl's muffled sobs echoed off of the paper-thin walls in the motel room, her face was buried into one of the pillows on the bed. Carlos stroked her hair and brought his knees to his broad chest. “I'll fucking kill him.” He muttered under his breath, shaking his head. Cheryl shook her head wildly, “No!” She whimpered painfully. That was the last thing she wanted Carlos to do. “I deserve it, I shouldn't have left them…”

“You don't deserve this shit, what the fuck are you talking about? You almost died trying to save his ungrateful ass, and this is how he's repaying you?” He growled as he gritted his teeth.

“Stop!” She pleaded. She turned her head, squinting as the light made her sore eyes burn. She hadn't heard from Sam yet, and she's been crying since she got back from the diner. Cheryl wasn't sure how much time passed, but it felt like hours.

“I miss him, Carlos.” Cheryl wavered as she tucked her hands under her chin. His lips thinned into a straight line, and his eyes softened, he knew how much she thought of him. Cheryl talked about Dean all the time, she'd tell stories – or talk about the things he liked. He couldn't believe that she was letting Dean treat her like trash, she had gone through every person's worst nightmare and he was adding onto it without a care in the world. “I know you do, I know.” Carlos sighed, even though he didn't understand why she did. Cheryl sniffled deeply and rubbed her eyes with closed fists. “He's just mad, he'll get over it.” She whispered.

His jaw dropped, “You're gonna keep being friends with him after this?”

“Of course, I will,” Cheryl scoffed as she pulled herself up into a sitting position. While she didn't like to admit it, Dean meant too much to her for her to give up their friendship like this. He changed her, and left his mark on her soul – no matter how much pain it sometimes caused. “He's my friend, we're just going through a tough time right now.”

“Tough time is an understatement,” Carlos mumbled under his breath.

Cheryl rolled her eyes and sniffled again as she wiped her eyes, cringing when she realized her mascara and eyeliner were smudged. “I'm gonna clean up and go out, don't wait up.” She sighed. Cheryl slid off of the edge of the bed, and ran her fingers through her tangled hair, ruffling it up a bit. Carlos raised his brows and his lips parted, “You're going out? To like a bar?” He asked. “Yeah, I need a fucking drink. Is that illegal?” She huffed out. Before Carlos could say anything else, she had locked herself in the bathroom and started running the shower. He knew she wasn't showering – she was just trying to ignore him. If her good qualities didn't make up so much for her few bad ones, he would've dropped her long ago.

Once she was cleaned up, Cheryl changed into something more comfortable – sporting her infamous cherry red leather coat and black skinny jeans. While she owned a lot of clothes now, she still found herself going back to that one specific outfit. She tossed a lip balm into her chunky faux leather purse with silver chains as the handle. Cheryl also managed to shove her sketchbook inside, but she couldn't close the clasp, unfortunately. She wasn't quite used to carrying around a purse, she thought if she picked one that she liked the look of it'd be easier – she was sadly mistaken. Carlos cocked a brow and sat up on his elbows, his long legs sprawled out off of the edge of the bed. “When are you gonna be back?” He asked hesitantly. He didn't want to set her off and send her on some sort of bender because she was determined to prove a point. When it came to handling Cheryl and her obvious alcoholism, he had to be gentle. Cheryl shrugged, “Dunno, probably around 12. Don't wait up.” She replied.

“Alright,” Carlos sighed. “I'll just stay here and be all lonely and depressed.”

She chuckled softly, “Shut up you loser.”

He groaned and slumped back into the mattress, rolling around dramatically as if to emphasize his point. Cheryl grinned and rolled her eyes playfully as she pulled her purse to hang comfortably on her shoulder. “Alright, bye now.” She mused. Carlos puckered his lips together and proceeded to make obnoxious kissing sounds. “Miss you already, baby cakes.”

“Oh my God! Stop!”

A good while after Cheryl left for one of the only two bars in the town, Carlos had set off on a mission of his own. He was gonna set Dean straight – preferably with violence but he doubted it'd go that way. All he had with him was a bat in the bed of his truck and that was all he needed. He reckoned from the stories that Cheryl told, all he had to do was merely threaten destroying his precious Impala to get his ass in line.

He perused around town on the hunt for Dean's distinct Impala parked outside anywhere – a motel would be preferable, but who knew what he was up to on a Friday night at nine. Carlos pursed his lips together as the little beaded swans and lilies that hung from the rearview mirror clashed together as he stopped at a red light. He had a little mouse that was attached to his keys as well, courtesy to Marisol. She loved all things that involved arts and crafts – she even ended up getting into candle making at some point. Carlos still had boxes full of random scented candles without labels littered around his house, he couldn't bring himself to get rid of them. It was the last thing Marisol made for him until she got too weak to do anything but lay in bed. Carlos swiped his tongue across his bottom lip and glanced around either end of the street. “Where is this little fucker?” He muttered under his breath.

Finally, out of the corner of his eye, he managed to catch the sleek body of the Impala glinting under a streetlight in the parking lot of one of the trashiest motels in town. Without a second thought, Carlos swerved over the curb and a patch of grass into the parking lot, ignoring the various cars honking at him and people flipping him off. There was nothing that was going to get in his way now, he was going to teach Dean a lesson. A well-deserved one too.

Carlos slammed the door shut and stomped towards the truck bed, fisting out the baseball bat eagerly. The bat was more for show, but if Dean put up a fight he'd be more than happy to. Maybe take out his kneecaps or perhaps a nice hit to the gut. Whatever he can manage to get, Cheryl said that Dean's a fast runner.

Rather than having to go through the hassle of bribing the front desk clerk for where the Winchester's room was, he spent a lot more time than he'd like to admit knocking on each door. Carlos flashed the older-looking woman a nice smile, and discreetly tucked the bat behind his broad back. “Sorry miss, wrong room. Do you know which room the people who own the black Impala in the lot are staying in?” He asked. Her paper-thin thin drawn-on eyebrows shot up, and she poked her head out the door to peer down the sidewalk that led to another set of rooms. “Um, the two tall white guys?” She confirmed. Carlos nodded, “Yup, they're my buddies.”

“Oh, uh, I think it's the far one. Room twenty-one or around that.”

“Thank you so much, gorgeous.” Carlos grinned, sending her a flirtatious wink. The woman flushed and cupped her cheek, she swayed her hips giddily and returned his grin. “No problem, mister.”

“See you around,” Carlos said before rushing down the walk. Shamelessly flirting with random people brought him a sense of joy, especially because he'd never see them again and it'd never go anywhere. He hoped to God that Marisol couldn't see him right now, he was not doing well and he would be ashamed if she were to see how he is.

He knocked on the door of rooms nineteen and twenty, there was no answer. Twenty-one, no answer. Twenty-two, however, had a familiar grumbly voice groan from the inside of the room, and then there was shuffling towards the closed door. Carlos swallowed, and his jaw hardened, his grip on the bat tightened as the locks made clicking noises as who he hoped was Dean prepared to open the door. Then, he was suddenly face-to-face with the man responsible for Cheryl's tears. Carlos’ eyes narrowed, and Dean's eyes widened. He raised the end of the bat to his chin and his brows shot up, “I'm gonna fuck you up, bolillo.”

“Shit!” Dean barked out in a panic.

He attempted to force the door shut, but Carlos was a much bigger guy than him – he was at least six foot-five and had muscles that made him look even more menacing. Carlos simply urged the door open with his arm, and it flew back against the wall with a loud thud. There was a tiny hole in the wall that just barely gave them a glimpse of the fluffy pink insulation from where the doorknob smashed into it. There was no doorstopper, it was the motel's fault. Dean stumbled back and raised his hands in defense. “Woah! Dude! Calm down!” He practically shouted. Sam sprang from his spot on the edge of the bed and planted himself between the two of them. Dean had no chance against Carlos, especially if he had a bat. “Carlos! What's going on?!” Sam questioned. He grit his teeth, and once again pointed the bat toward Dean who poked his head out from behind Sam. “You're an ungrateful piece of shit!” Carlos yelled.

Now, what the hell did that mean?

“You feel good about yourself, huh? Constantly ignoring Cheryl, shitting on her, making her cry?!” He fumed, waving the baseball bat around to emphasize his point. Dean didn't move, he didn't speak. Of course, this was all about her, her guard dog. “She almost died trying to save your life in case you forgot! God forbid she has some feelings towards that! God forbid she does what she needs to do to heal!”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “That's not-”

“It's not what? Hmm?” Carlos mocked. “You all butt hurt that the girl you had a fat crush on decided to care for her well-being over yours? Grow the fuck up!”

“Carlos.” Sam pleaded. Carlos’ eyes snapped over to him in an instant, and he clenched his jaw. He desperately wanted to diffuse the situation between the two of them, he had been talking to Dean about Cheryl all day – convincing him to forgive her. He thought he had gotten pretty close until Carlos showed up.

Carlos then sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose as he shook his head slowly. He had to calm down, if Cheryl found out that he got all violent with Dean, she'd attack him with a lot more than her words and a bat. “You were all she talked about, all she thought about. She felt awful about leaving you guys, and I got through sobs today when she explained to you why she left. And the fact that you can't get over yourself and be whatever you guys were before, is sad.” Carlos’ lips thinned, and his brows furrowed as Dean's sullen expression only grew worse. He hoped he felt guilty, he should feel guilty. “She deserves better, so either be better, or be a man, and cut it off properly.”

Everyone was silent, the only sound in the room was the quiet ticking of the clock and electricity softly buzzing. Dean could hear his heart pounding in his ears, blood pumping, he was oddly aware of every hair on his body. He did feel guilty, he felt awful. He made Cheryl cry – and she was trying to help him when they all nearly died. The doctors said that she absorbed a lot of the impact in the crash, but due to his injuries from the demon, he was still in critical condition. And then, his Dad died. Because of him. For him. Suddenly, there was this overwhelming crushing weight on his chest. Dean swallowed the lump in his throat, “Where is she?” He asked. “Cheryl, where is Cheryl?” He corrected as if neither of them would know who he was referring to. Carlos’ thinned to slits, it looked as if he were trying to blow Dean up with his mind. “What, you're gonna go and make her cry some more?”

“No, no… I wanna – I'm gonna talk to her, and… say sorry n’ shit.” Dean reluctantly grumbled. Sam's eyes briefly widened, and he shot him a surprised look. But before Dean could see it, he quickly wiped it off of his face – he didn't want to discourage him. He had to be as neutral as possible about this if he wanted Dean to go through with it.

Carlos cocked a brow and looked him up and down. He was wary to believe him – but again, Cheryl would tell him if anything bad happened. “...The bar.” He answered simply.

“Which one?”

“Figure it out, there's only two. If you care, you'll find her.” Carlos snorted. He didn't know which one she was at, but it was funny to think about Dean running around like a headless chicken. It brought him great joy. Sam on the other hand was impressed that all it took was some yelling and name-calling to get Dean to stop being a prick. Maybe it had to come from Carlos all along though – he likely wouldn't listen to him if he were the one to yell at his stupid brother. Dean nodded once and threw his jacket on in a quick haste. He scooped up his car keys from the side table, and without a single word, he left on the hunt for Cheryl.

Sam's eyes landed on Carlos as soon as the door clicked shut, overwhelmed with the feeling of sudden awkwardness. He didn't know what to say – or what to do even. He couldn't exactly ask him to leave without it being a little weird and impolite, so he waited for Carlos to do something. Carlos pouted his lips together and swung his arms back and forth. He sucked on his inner cheek, which made a loud squelching noise. “So…” He started. Carlos cleared his throat and glanced over at Sam. “You lift?”

Dean sped down the road, he ignored a red light which earned him some rightful honks from other cars. He felt like he was driving around in circles – he couldn't remember where the bars in town were. Let alone what they were called. The radio crackled as the signal grew unsteady, his brows knitted together, and he gave it a hard smack. A static sound was omitted from the radio until it settled. It was quiet, and then a guitar began to softly riff – the beginning of Bed of Roses by Bon Jovi. Dean exhaled sharply, and grit his teeth as he reluctantly returned his eyes to the road. A bright red sign illuminated a shady parking lot full of motorbikes, and trucks.

A bar.

The Rosebud.

There was no question about it, Cheryl was drinking at the Rosebud. He didn't even need to explain himself – why he knew she was there. It was plain obvious. Dean pulled into a parking spot, not caring whether or not he was parked within the lines. He didn't see Cheryl's bike anywhere, so he hoped that she either walked or got a car in the past year.

Cheryl tilted her head as she shaded the ruffles in the dress that she had just drawn. She liked to work with ruffles and tulle, they were so fun to fluff up – especially to draw. Right now, she was working on a wedding dress. Floral lace on the bodice with little pearls that trailed along the sweetheart neckline. She wasn't sure if she should keep the pearls on the bodice however, she may scatter them around in the skirt instead. She tapped the end of the pencil against the page and finished off the rest of her rum and coke. She's had two drinks so far, she limited herself to four. The wooden stool she was sitting in that was placed at a tall round table was quite uncomfortable. Cheryl found herself constantly wiggling to relieve the ache in her lower back and her butt. She originally chose this table because it had a bowl full of pistachios in the middle of the table, and because it was tucked back in the corner away from prying eyes.

Patrons chatted and laughed, making it difficult to hear what songs were playing over the speakers. Dean glanced around the bar, his eyes searching through the mass of people for a familiar face. For her face. He brushed past a woman with a head full of frizzy blonde hair and obnoxious dangly earrings with red tassels. She sent him a look that was asking for him to talk to her – take her to bed, and while he was tempted, he'd rather not. He flashed her a polite grin before continuing to push through the crowd. Finally, his eyes skimmed past Cheryl parked in the corner of the room sitting at a table alone. His heart clenched and he sucked in a breath, she had her nose in some sort of book – maybe she was writing or researching a case. Dean swallowed the growing lump in his throat and pursued forward. Now that he was closer and he wasn't busy being mad at her, he thought that she looked very beautiful.

“Can I buy the pretty lady a drink?” He smirked as he claimed the spot across from her. Cheryl's eyes widened, and her lips parted, her head snapped up in an instant and she was overwhelmed with the feeling of relief. “What?” She breathed. Dean waggled his brows and shrugged his shoulders, “You still drink whiskey?” He asked. Cheryl nodded slowly and tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “Uh, yeah. Sometimes.”

“Oh yeah? What are you into now?”

“Rum and coke… sometimes tequila.”

“Oh, sweet. Tequila comes from Mexico, right?”

“Yes, originally…” Cheryl trailed off. Her brows furrowed in confusion and she set the pencil down onto her sketchbook. “What are you doing here? I thought – I thought you hated me.” She said hoarsely. Dean sighed and bowed his head like he was ashamed. Ashamed that he made her think such a thing. “Nah, I don't hate you. I was just… pissed off.”

Cheryl snorted, “Really? I couldn't tell.”

“Look, I… I dunno, I was hurt I guess… and pissed off that you left us.” Dean started. He was ready to apologize for being unnecessarily rude to her. She had already apologized more than enough times to him if he included all of the texts and voice-mails she sent him over the recent months. Cheryl's lips thinned, and she nodded slowly in understanding. “I know, I know I hurt you and I'm so sorry for that Dean.” She said softly. He rubbed his chin and screwed his eyes shut, she kept saying sorry. All she did was say sorry for something that wasn't even that bad – she was healing the way she needed to. “Nah… I get it, I get it. I would've done the same thing if I was in your situation probably.” He muttered, shaking his head to dismiss her apology.

“Really?”

“Honestly? Yeah, I would have.”

Then, there was an awkward silence between the two of them. They hadn't seen each other in a while, hadn't spoken – they weren't sure what to talk about or how to act. Cheryl had her eyes fixed on her sketchpad and vigorously bounced her knee. Dean tilted his head and raised his brows as his gaze settled on her drawing. It was good – very good and detailed, it looked like it came straight out of a fashion magazine. “Holy shit, did you draw that?” He blurted out. Cheryl flushed before nodding, she was very secretive about her art. She didn't think it was that good, and she was quite insecure about her creations. She worried that people might not think they are pretty or original, or worse – she lacks talent. “Oh, um, yeah. Do you like it?” She asked shyly as she slid it across the table for him to inspect.

Dean's brows shot up and he pursed his lips together, it looked amazing – the shading that provided the look of texture and shadow made it look almost 3D. “Hell yeah, this is great, Cheryl. You got any more?”

“Si, I do.” She smiled. “You can flip through it, don't judge though – some of it is bad.”

“I doubt that,” He scoffed as he leafed through the pages of her sketchbook. Most of her designs were dresses – cocktail dresses, black tie dresses, wedding dresses, and prom dresses galore. Dean pointed to a hot pink dress that was coloured in with glittery pen and had a high slit up to the thigh, “See, now that's sexy.”

“Yeah, I was going for slutty Barbie.” She grinned. Dean chuckled and he had a wide grin that stretched from ear to ear. He's missed her humour, and he hadn't even realized it. “Well, you definitely got that. I like slutty Barbie.” He winked. Cheryl rolled her eyes playfully and brushed him off, “Typical man.” She teased.

They fell into another spell of silence, but this time it was comfortable, natural. Cheryl tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and smiled faintly. “I missed you.” She confessed as she clasped her hands together in her lap. Dean matched her smile and nodded slowly, he was glad that she missed him. Secretly, he missed her too. He had the occasional dream about her, usually after he drank, and that made him miss her despite his anger towards her at the time. “You gonna stick around? …Like before? Riding around and huntin’ monsters?”

Cheryl cocked her head, “Do you want me to?”

“Yeah, yeah I do.”

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #spnfandom #dean winchester x oc #Spotify

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dirtywrestling · 1 month

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Forever in His Debt - Drew McIntyre (18+)

Commission: @tokipanda68

Pairing: Mobster!Drew McIntyre x Melody

Summary: Melody’s father owes money to the mafia. He can’t afford to pay them back so Drew takes what he wants.

Warnings: 18+, Kidnapping? Mafia, Cussing, Mentions of gambling and drinking, Smut, Minors DNI

Word Count: 4,193

Follow My Backup Blog!: @dirtywresling102

“Please, Drew- Mr. McIntyre, I’ll get you the money. I swear!” The small round man begged. Drew ignored every word that was coming out of his mouth. He’s had people like this before, borrowing money for whatever reason and not being able to pay the mafia back. Drew looked around the small house, it was pretty obvious that there was nothing valuable here that would cover the debt that this man dug himself in.

“You see, when you borrowed money from me, from my mob I expect you to pay me back and on time.” Drew’s eyes were cold as he looked at the man. He knew this man’s gambling troubles and drinking so it was no surprise that the banks turned him down for a loan. Drew clicked his tongue, eyeing around the house, his goons behind him, their guns loaded. Of course no guns were out just in case there were children. Drew wasn’t that heartless, he did violent things, he was a fucking mobster for Christ sakes but he knew when to draw the line if children were involved.

Parents were smart to tell their children about the mafia as a scary story before bedtime. So arriving here and if there were children, they knew better than to do anything stupid. Drew’s hazel eyes scanned over the shelf, soon stopping to see a picture frame. ‘Oh, what’s this?’ Drew thought to himself, arching his eyebrow to see the man that borrowed money from him and a stunning girl who was no older than sixteen. Drew was shocked by her beauty in the picture. Tearing his attention away from the picture he looked around the house once more. There were pictures of her all on the wall now that he noticed, he stopped looking for anything valuable. “Is this your daughter?” Drew asked, pointing to a picture.

Steve- the man who was in debt quickly nodded his head. “Yes, she just turned sixteen.” He swallowed thickly. “Her name is Melody.” Steve spoke, rubbing his knuckles nervously.

Drew licked his lips seductively. “Melody.” Drew whispered, the way her name rolled off his tongue made him shiver.

Steve didn’t miss the way Drew licked his lips. “Please, Mr. McIntyre, she’s all I have.”

“Let’s make a deal.” Drew spoke, ignoring Steve. “If you don’t have my money by the time Melody is legal age I will take her and we can forget about you being in the negatives with me.” Drew straightened his tie, brushing his sleeves.

“I- I.” Steve didn’t know what to say, it was a hell of a deal and it was extremely hard to make deals with the leader of the mafia. “Are we talking about voting age or drinking age?”

Coming home after a long day of college was the best part of the day, especially on my birthday. Pushing the key into the lock I twisted it, surprised that the door wasn’t locked I swung the front door open. “I’m home!” I hollered, taking my bag off of my shoulders. I placed it on the floor by the door. I tossed my keys onto the nearest table. “Hello?” I asked, it was too quiet in the house. There were no sounds coming from the kitchen or smell. No sign that my mother was cooking my favorite meal, we were probably going out to eat.

Entering the kitchen I saw my parents sitting in chairs and two large men in suits behind them. “What’s going on?” I asked, instantly noticing the tears streaming down my mother’s cheeks.

My father finally spoke up. “Honey, you’re going to go away for a while.” He wouldn’t dare meet my gaze.

“Away?” I asked, this was a weird birthday present. “Uh why?” My eyes darted towards the two strangers standing over my parents.

My mother let out a sob, her hands coming over her face. “What’s going on?” I asked, this wasn’t what I was expecting for my eighteenth birthday. “You guys are scaring me.”

“Honey, you know how your father has a problem. He did something unspeakable and without my permission or knowledge.” She hiccuped.

I was growing angry as they beat around the bush and wouldn’t spit it out already. Taking a step backwards to run up to my room, my back collided with a larger figure. “Hello, love.” A male’s Scottish accent hit my ears. “The name is Drew.” Spinning around I looked up at the tall man. I noticed how Drew’s hazel eyes darken as he looked at me. “Pretty young thing you are.” He whispered so only I could hear him.

I blinked at his comment, “Oh hell no.” I instantly knew what was going on as my eyes looked down at the gun tucked away in his waist. With my father’s financial problems and the way this man dressed and looked how he had money. Realizing who Drew was, I whipped my head around, glaring at my father. “You did not fucking pimp me out.” I snarled.

Drew laughed loudly at my assumption. His deep voice sent shivers down my spine. “Oh on the contrary, doll.” Drew bent down low, his lips near my ear. “You see, your daddy borrowed money from me and we made a deal two years ago on how if he doesn’t pay me back that you’ll mine at legal age.”

“You bastard!” I screamed at him, tears threatening to spill but I tried holding them back.

“Shh, love. He’s not worth it.” Drew placed a hand on my shoulder, pulling me away from the kitchen and down the hallway towards my room. “I’ll give you ten mintues to pack up and we’re leaving for good.” Drew’s voice was giving off a warning sound as if saying ‘don’t do anything stupid’. Nodding I turned around, entering my room and slamming it shut. Tears streamed down my face as I realized what was happening. My father sold my life because he was in debt.

Quickly gather clothes and other things I could think of and shove it into my bag. Opening the door I stormed out, slightly jumping to see Drew leaning against the wall. “You’re already done?” He asked. Nodding, I walked past him. “That was only like three minutes.” Drew checked his watch that was wrapped around his wrist, arching his eyebrow.

“Just get me the fuck out of here.” I demanded, not even thinking what Drew’s plans with me were.

“Melody, wait.” My mother sobbed out, trying to get my attention before I left the house. Ignoring her pleas and cries I stepped out of the house. I didn’t even notice the large black SUV with tinted windows until now.

“Right this way, love.” Drew placed his large hand on my lower back and guided me to the vehicle. Drew reached his free hand and opened the door. Climbing in, I scooted to the farthest seat, my attention towards the window.

“I’ll pay him back sweetheart, don’t you worry!” Was all I heard my father yell.

My eyes were everywhere in the large house that Drew was guiding me through. I looked at all of the expensive and unique paintings hanging on the wall, large soft rugs stretched on the marble floor. I was so distracted, I wasn’t even paying attention to his words. “And this is your room.” Drew pushed open the door. The bedroom walls were dipping in my favorite color along with the covers on the bed. It was much larger than the room I had back at home. Drew took my things from me as I explored the room, there was a large bathroom connected to my room.

As I walked back into my room, I saw Drew searching through my things. “What are you doing?” I asked. He tossed my clothes around until he found what he was looking for, my laptop.

“Don’t need this.” He flashed the only nice thing I had in my life.

“Hey- wait no! I need it for class.” I frowned, trying to reach it but he raised it higher for me not to grab. Damn his tallness.

“I can’t have you blabbing about my secrets now, love.” Drew informed me, raising it higher as I tried to climb on his large form.

“I won’t, I promise!” I begged, my eyes looking back at the laptop.

Drew grabbed my chin, the pad of his thumb rubbed against my cheek. “Sleep now, love. You’ve had a busy day.” He whispered. Brushing his thumb over my plump bottom lip his eyes looked at my mouth and back up at my eyes. He leaned downwards, his soft lips pressing against mine, leaving a small kiss. I didn’t even know if I kissed back or not I was too shocked. Pulling away he licked his lips as if he was getting the rest of my taste off of his mouth. “Rest, we’ll talk about it tomorrow.” Drew promised. With that he turned on the heel of his nice black dress shoes and left my room.

That night I couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was being in a new environment, the fact that I’ll probably never see my mother again or it was the memorizing kiss Drew planted on me before he left. Laying in bed, I stared at the white ceiling above me. The kiss kept playing in my head, over and over again. Squirming underneath the blankets I froze, I was getting wet from the event that happened hours ago. Swallowing thickly, I ran my dominant hand down my body. Shivering from my own touch I exhaled shallowly as I reached my soaking entrance.

A soft whimper escaped my lips as I touched my sensitive clit. How could I get wet at the thought of kissing my kidnapper, a total stranger to me! Tossing my head back into the soft plush pillows as my index finger entered me. My tightness wrapped around the single digit. Slowly pushing and pulling my finger in and out of my pussy, I slowly sped up the pace. Flashes of Drew filled my head, how he towered over me, how built he was. His suit stretched as his muscles flexed with each movement he made. Remembering how his eyes looked at me over everything I did.

My pussy clenched around my finger, I was close. Panting heavily, I used my other hand to play with my clit. The last memory I had with Drew struck my mind. His lips soft against mine, how they moved against me and held me close to his large body. My orgasm hit in an instant, the hand that was playing with my clit flew up to my mouth, muffling my moans as I overcame my climax.

Panting, I slowly pulled my finger out and laid in bed, calming myself down. Once I came down from my high I pulled the blankets off my sweaty body. Rolling out of bed, I decided to roam the empty halls. Slowly opening my door, I peaked my head out looking up and down the dark hallway. Seeing no one about, I slipped out of my room. The large house seemed a bit spookier with no lights on.

My feet pitter pattered down the hallway on the cold marble floor, I slightly cursed at myself for not wearing socks. Making a right turn I ended up in the kitchen. My stomach growled, realizing I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday’s lunch. Then again how could I eat after all of the events that happened. Walking towards the fridge, I open the door. Squinting as the bright light inside blinded me, I looked at all of the options. I’ve never had this amount of food to pick, we didn’t have much back at my house. Grabbing a water bottle and a container of strawberries, I turned around and jumped at the figure behind me. “Can’t sleep?” His soothing accent filled the kitchen, bouncing off the walls and hitting my ears.

“No.” I murmured, moving past him and placing my small snack on the counter. Opening the water I took a few gulps.

“Well, sounds like to me you were having a nightmare.” A slight smirk appeared on his face as I choked. Drew walked closer to me, nearly hovering as his lips grazed my ear. “My room is next to yours and the walls are very thin.” Shivering at his deep voice I finally had the courage to look up at him. “Tell me, bana-phrionnsa” he placed his large hand underneath my chin. “What made you moan ever so sweetly, hmm?” Drew asked, eyeing my appearance. “And don’t lie, I know the sounds of a naughty girl masturbating when I hear one.”

My face became bright red, I nearly forgot how to speak as he made my body tremble just by the way he was speaking. “I- I…” My mouth became dry even though I just drank the cold liquid. Swallowing my nervousness. “What does b- bana-” Before I botched the word Drew chuckled deeply and cut me off.

“Bana-phrionnsa, means princess in my country.” He stroked his soft finger against my cheek. “You’re my bana-phrionnsa.” He hummed, leaning down he pressed his forehead against mine. “Do you like it when I call you my bana-phrionnsa?”

I had no words, he was speaking so sweet to me. Even though I knew what and who he was I couldn’t help but to eat up his words. I nodded, not wanting to embarrass myself. I saved my words.

“So tell me, what made you moan so loudly tonight?” He questioned, pulling his head away. He wasn’t going to give up on this question.

“You, I was thinking about you.” I breathed out.

Drew smiled as I finally admitted it and stopped dodging his question. “Is that so?” He licked his lips. His muscular arm pushed the bottle of water and container of strawberries off of the counter, making them fall onto the floor. He gripped my waist, picking me up and placing me on the cold, smooth surface of the counter top. “And what were you thinking about me?” He growled, eyes darkening slightly. Drew leaned into me, hiding his face in the crook of my neck.

“Please don’t make me say it.” I whined, embarrassed. I cried out in pleasure as Drew bit down on my flesh where my neck and shoulder met, his warm hand slipped underneath my shirt, cupping my breast.

Suckling hard, Drew pulled away from the dark hickey he left. “Say it.” He pinched and tweaked at my nipple.

“You fucking me! I thought about you thrusting your cock in me.” I moaned as he switched onto my other breast.

“Hmm, good girl.” Drew whispered huskily. He pulled his hand out from under my shirt which made me whimper from the loss of contact. Drew gripped the bottom of my night shirt, tossing it over my head he threw it behind him. His eyes darkened at the sight of my bare chest, his

hazel eyes scanned over my half naked body. “Stunning.” He hummed, leaning down he latched his mouth around my left nipple. Suckling and lightly biting, his hand started to play with my right breasts.

Tossing my head back, I moaned in pure bliss. My hands gripped at his long dark hair, giving it a slight tug. Drew pulled away slightly from my chest, soft moans left his mouth from my actions. He left a kiss trail as he made his way to my other breast. Doing the same thing, sucking and flicking his tongue over my hardening nipple, I grew wetter in my panties.

Drew pulled away from my tender chest, he grabbed his dark shirt and pulled it over his head. My eyes traveled over his body, his biceps flexed as he tossed his shirt to the side, chest strong along with his chiseled abs across his stomach. He obviously never misses a day at the gym. Drew grabbed my waist, pulling me closer to the edge of the counter. His fingers dipped in the hem of my pajama pants, pulling them down my legs along with my panties. I shivered slightly as the cold countertop touched my bare ass.

“Oh my sweet, Melody.” Drew’s husky voice rang in my ear. Looking up at him, I caught him licking his lips. “I don’t know whether to eat you out or fuck you full of my come.” Drew chewed on the inside of his cheek as if he was making a decision.

My heart hammered against my chest, no man had ever shown how much he wanted me before. Growing the courage, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer to me. “You can eat me out whenever I need you.” I pouted, my eyes glossy as I looked over his features. As if he couldn’t believe the mouth I had on me.

“Whatever my bana-phrionnsa wants.” Drew smiled. His large hands left my waist and started to push his pants and boxers down his muscular legs. My eyes widen slightly at the sight of his large cock twitching against his lower fit stomach. He grabbed underneath my chin, lifting my attention to his face. “It’ll fit.” Drew smirked, my reaction to his cock must have been concerning.

Drew placed his hands on top of my thighs. Drew had surprisingly soft hands for being a killer. I wondered how many people he’s killed, if not him how many people he’s ordered to have killed. Knowing he’s in the mob life he’s broken the law many times, not only killing being on top of the list. Being a mobster also had perks, money, cars and women. Swallowing thickly, my mind thought about his sex life, how many women has he fucked? As I was so caught up in my thoughts, I didn’t even realize Drew spread my legs and dipped two of his fingers into my dripping cunt. “Ah!” I squealed in surprise as he slowly pulled out. He brought his glistening finger to his mouth. Wrapping his lips around his finger, he sucked off my juices. “Hmm.” He growled, slowly pulling his digits out of his mouth. “Taste so fucking devine.” He purred. “You sure you don’t want me to eat you out?” Drew teased, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk.

“I’m sure, now please fuck me.” I begged, my legs still spread. My juices dripped down onto the surface of the counter.

“Okay, sweetheart. Since you asked so nicely.” Drew fitted in between my thighs, he grabbed underneath my knees and wrapped my legs around his waist. His raging cock throbbing with need. Drew grabbed the base of his cock, pumping his dick a few times in his hand. Guiding his mushroom tip against my entrance he slowly pushed in me. My hands grabbed at his swole shoulders, digging my nails into his tan flesh.

“Fuck.” Drew hissed out, not just because of the stinging pain in his shoulders, but my pussy wrapped so tightly around his tip. Drew slowly pushed his hips against mine, his cock sinking inside of my cunt.

“K- Keep going, don’t stop.” I moaned, resting my head against his slightly hairy chest, my eyes shut tightly. He didn’t stop one beat as his cock slowly inched his way deeper.

Drew exhaled loudly, now balls deep inside of me. He growled lowly as my pussy fluttered around his cock. “I need to move.” His hands resting on my waist.

My head snapped up, my eyes full of lust. “Then fucking move.” I demanded. Drew flashed a devilish smirk towards me, showing his white teeth. Pulling his cock half way out of me, he thrust back inside. I whimpered as his rigid cock hit a different angle this time.

“So fucking tight.” Drew huffed a low howl as he kept thrusting. Drew looked down, watching his glistening cock fuck in and out of his lovers pussy. Drew looked at me, watching my face twist in bliss and pleasure, he couldn’t help but smile. “I can tell you’re close, bana-phrionnsa.” Drew dug his fingers into her hips, leaving bruises. “Hold it for me, Melody. Just a little longer.” Drew announced as his cock slipped in and out at a faster pace than before.

The kitchen was full of hot sex sounds, moans and whimpering along with dirty talking and skin slapping against skin. The wetness of my pussy squelched with each thrust Drew did, making me blush. “I- I can’t hold on much longer.” I warned, my stomach tightening with each thrust Drew pushed into me. Everything Drew was doing made my body hot and bothered. His touches, the way he’d angle his cock differently with each thrust. Drew leaned down, his heavy breathing hitting my ear.

“Be a good girl and wait.” He growled, his lips latching onto my neck, suckling hard he growled as he left hickies. I gritted my teeth slightly as my orgasm became closer and closer as Drew fucked me faster and harder.

“I- I can’t hold it!” I cried out, hot tears slid down my cheeks as I held my orgasm back. Feeling Drew’s cock twitch inside my walls, I nearly exploded.

“Come, fucking come all over my cock Melody.” Drew demanded, his heavy balls emptying his seed inside of me. Feeling his warm come enter my body, triggered my climax. My eyes fluttered shut as my body shook from the intenseness. Screaming out Drews name, I raked my nails down his arm, leaving marks. Drew hissed at the slight pain, pumping his cock a few more times in me, pusing his load deeper.

As we came down from our high and caught our breaths, Drew rested his sweaty forehead against my shoulder. The scottish mobster mumbled something I didn’t catch. “W- What?” I asked slightly out of breath.

He brought his head up, repeating what he said. “Marry me.” Drew looked down at me as if he was staring into my soul.

“Marry you?” I choked out, this man took me from my family because of my father’s debt. “I… “ I looked away from him. “I don’t know what to say.” I mumbled, looking at the shiny floor, it must have been cleaned earlier today.

“Say yes.” Drew spoke softly, grabbing my jaw and making me look at him. “You’re all I’ve ever thought about.” Drew confessed. “I visited your father when you were a minor, warning him about his debt. Melody, your father had two years to pay me back and he never did, I took you away from that abuse. I saw your phone on the shelf and I fell in love with you.” He rubbed his thumb against my cheek. “I had plans for you.” Drew looked down, his soft cock still in me.

Two and two clicked, my eyes widened as I realized he wasn’t wearing protection. “You had planned to get me pregnant?” I swallowed thickly.

“I mean, this wasn’t planned.” Drew cleared his throat. “I was planning on taking you on our wedding night but hearing you moaning in your room I couldn’t stop myself.” Drew was still caressing my face. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

“Yeah, like you did with my dad?” I scoffed, crossing my arms over my breasts, trying to hide myself.

“Don’t be like that.” Drew warned, he gave me a slight glare. It was best to keep business and relationship problems separate. “If you marry me, you can see your family whenever you want.” Drew promised.

Biting my lower lip, I thought about it. Marrying a handsome Scottish mobster that was also great at sex along with seeing my family or don’t marry him and he could possibly do the worst to me. Biting my cheek I weighed my pros and cons.

“You don’t have to answer now-”

“Yes.” I quickly said, meeting his eyes. Drew blinked as if he didn’t understand.

“What?” He questioned.

I smiled softly at his confusion, I played with the tips of his hair flowing over his shoulder. “I said yes.”

“You sure you don’t want to think-”

I couldn’t help but to roll my eyes to him wanting to be respectful and wanting me to think about my answer. “I said yes, I want to marry you. Now, where’s my ring?” I giggled.

Drew McIntryre's Masterlist

#Dirty Wrestling #drew mcintyre #drew mcintyre oneshot #drew mcintyre fanfiction #drew mcintyre fanfic #wwe fanfic #drew mcintyre commission #wrestling commission #wrestling stories #drew mcintyre short story #wrestling oneshot #wrestling blog #wrestling smut blog #wrestling fanfic blog #wwe smut #wwe oneshot #wwe oneshots

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sevikasleftpussyflap · 2 years

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How would Sevika interact with an autistic reader? I wanna know could she deal with me:D

I love this one! I included autistic traits that I have (I have never been diagnosed, so not saying I am, sorry for the inaccuracies) but if there are some you had specifically in mind just let me know! Also reader works for Silco

The Undercity is full of odd people so Sevika can handle just about anything

When she first met you she did find it amusing that you didn't make eye contact with her, instead focusing on her feet or a spot over her shoulder

She barely got you to speak which she didn't mind. When the two of you were in a room together, it'd be a comfortable silence for her

The first time you spoke it scared the shit out of her, even though the only reaction she showed was he widening of her eyes

It was the same routine, you two in the break room and her re calibrating her arm like usual. The only difference was that you had asked her a question about her prosthetic

You flocked to her as she started explaining, taking an unusual interest in the mechanics of it. You actually kind of make her nervous with that intense stare

So she's talking, and you just interrupt. Butting in with an "Actually-" and telling her how her own shit operates. She is not amused but you do not take the hint

It bothers her that when she checks with Singed, you turn out to be right

Now you just latch onto her, gravitating towards her like a moth to light whenever you see her

Once she mentions something you're interested in, you're going a mile a minute. She can hardly get a word in but she's honestly kind of... fascinated. Not with whatever you're talking about, that's boring as shit, but she's smitten with how overexcited you get.

You realize you've been making prolonged eye contact during a rant and you start glancing away. She'll step back into your line of sight with a smirk. It's cruel, but she likes it when you're flustered.

If you're really good at masking, she won't notice anything until you get closer in your relationship

Honestly just thinks you're fucking weird

One of your quirks would be your hell-bent insistence on planning anything before doing it. You don't let her surprise you, at all. If she deviates from your usual schedule, maybe going to the bar instead of directly heading to the gambling table one day, you get STRESSED

Your hand will tug at her cape and then she's looking down at you, more specifically, your hand, irritated at the offending limb that's delaying her drink

"Um, babe. We go to the table first, then bar." You explain to her like it's common sense. She'll sigh, roll her eyes, head to the table just to sit down and stand back up before heading to the bar. "There"

The Last Drop overstimulates the hell out of you. She'll get you some noise-cancelling headphones or a booth with a drape to block out flashing lights

When you're anxious you complain as a coping mechanism. She knows this and asks "Do you want advice, or someone to listen?"

She'll also understand how masking can be exhausting for you and doesn't take it personally when your social battery runs out

When you don't want to be touched, you get very upset. It's not her fault because it can happen in a flash. You'll be fine up until you're suddenly not but it's hard to voice how you feel

You'll get bitchy with her and ignore/curtly respond to any of her efforts at making conversation. Surprisingly, she's very understanding and will give you space if that's what you want. If she needs to hold you, she'll do that too.

When you DO want to be touched, you're overly clingy. She'll be on duty trying to intimidate some poor soul and it's hard to do that with you hanging off her arm

Sometimes you're dogshit at understanding social cues. Which is a doozy because her tone is very dry 90% of the time.

Sevika needs to beat some guy unconscious for some reason so she hints at you to leave the room

"Why don't you get me some more whisky?" Everyone's tense. None are meeting the pleading eyes of the poor, stupid soul that decided to try and cheat Sevika at cards. Her glass presses against your chest but her eyes never leave the asshole who's currently pissing his pants. You eye her full glass. "That's already full-" "I'm gonna beat the shit out of this guy, baby." She'll say bluntly. "Oh."

Sometimes her teasing will become too much for you and she has to clarify that she doesn't actually want you dead

When she's injured, had a long day, you don't quite get that it's not the best time to be criticizing her habits

Sevika's arm is gone. All that's left is scrap metal and wires sticking out of an exposed socket. She's struggling to light a cigar and holds it out to you pleadingly. "That's the 10th one you've had today, I thought you were cutting back- sorry, sorry" She releases the most frustrated groan.

Or, "The metal seems a bit rusted here, Sevika have you been taking care of it?" and half her arm's fucking missing

You do not realize when someone's hitting on you and it drives her up the fucking wall

If you're in meetings with Silco, you have a bad habit of interrupting him but he's actually very patient with you aww~

If he’s in a bad mood, Sevika will clamp a hand over your mouth to keep you from interrupting him and turning that rage on you

Sevika's sarcastic comments fly over your head at Mt Everest altitude

Silco's leaning against the desk, smoking a cigar freshly lit by Sevika. "Hm. I guess we should just give into their demands then." Sevika huffs at the sardonic quip. "I'll tell my boys to stand down, let the shimmer go up in flames." "Guys, really? We have the numbers to beat them I don't know why-" You cut yourself off at Sevika's deadpan look. Silco has his cigar-holding hand pinching his brow between thumb and forefinger. "Oh, you're joking."

OKAY OMG you swaddle yourself in Sevika's cape and create a little sensory therapy swing for yourself one time when you're really bored at a card game

You'd be so still in there she'd nearly forget where you were

She'll sometimes not even notice you're tangled in it and stand up, there's a loud tearing noise and then you hit the ground

"What the fuck-" "Why did you move??"

You're both pissy until you sleep it off then it's like it never happened

#arcane sevika x reader #sevika imagine #sevika x reader

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umbra-papilio · 10 months

Text

Some notes on my au/Slenderbros headcanons

The Operator and Slenderman are two separate entities. They're both eldritch horrors, but the Operator is far more malevolent and nasty, going out of his way to torment people until they eventually break and "transform" into his proxies. Whereas Slender is just kinda vibing.

The Operator, Slenderman, Trenderman, Splendorman, and Offenderman are all part of the same "species," whatever the hell that may be, but are not brothers. The latter four collaborate with each other on occasion and won't correct you if you do mistakenly refer to them as "brothers," but they will be incredibly offended if you associate them with the Operator. They cannot stand him and the feeling is mutual.

The quartet, while still being powerful, are all far weaker than the Operator as well. The Operator feeds off of negative energy which he sows by stalking and torturing his victims - which can be adults or even children, he isn't picky - and reaps by either "proxifying" the strong ones or slaughtering and eating the weak ones. Viciously. This greatly disturbs and even disgusts them.

So they're not senseless killers by any means, but they're not exactly morally upstanding either (except for maybe Trender). Slender has an entire mansion dedicated to housing and protecting lone killers, monsters and poltergeists. The Human Realm and the Monster Realm are incompatible with each other in his eyes, and he wants to give them a place to call home now that they have "rejected their humanity." He won't outright harm them himself, but he absolutely won't hesitate to ban anyone who disturbs the peace. When it comes to outsiders, however, he can get... violent. He'll just scare off any curious human who gets too close without physically hurting them, but anyone with foul intentions will be disposed of immediately. There's a reason the SCP Foundation hasn't been able to lay a hand on him.

Trender is an odd case, an outcast even among his "brothers." He fully embraces his humanity and is infatuated with human culture and behavior. In fact, most of his time is spent in the Human Realm in a more, shall we say socially acceptable form. He loves his brothers dearly, but unfortunately due to their limited emotional capacity, the feeling cannot be fully returned, although Splendor tries, at least.

Speaking of which... Splendor is a guardian entity of sorts with the sole purpose of protecting children. He has a unique ability that essentially "blesses" any child he comes in contact with. If a deathly sick child is suddenly cured, or if a depressed child is somehow happy and smiley out of seemingly nowhere, you can safely bet that they have been visited by Splendor. On the flip side, he is the most brutal and violent out of the four, and won't think twice to tear apart anyone or anything who dares harm a child. That being said, he absolutely despises Laughing Jack and Mr. Widemouth, and is the reason why Candle Cove eventually went off the air, although how he managed to accomplish this is still unknown.

(Let me get one thing straight. This is a fandom built around horror, gore, and topics that generally make one uncomfortable. However, there are some lines I just won't cross, and SA is one of them. So, here's my version of Offender.)

Like Trender, Offender is also one who indulges in the luxuries of the Human Realm, but unlike the former, he never sticks around. He is, for lack of a better word, a "player." He lives for passion and debauchery, and sees no reason to waste his endless years cooped up in a mansion or babysitting children all day. Every night is filled with drinking, gambling, and sex with any woman who is interested, in some cases (well, many cases) more than one at once. In his opinion, women are the best thing humanity has to offer. He is not a predator, though. It's unknown how the unfortunate nickname was bestowed upon him, but he hates it with a passion. Why would he force himself on someone when their enthusiastic consent and eagerness for him is part of how fucking sexy they are? Anyways, don't think that makes him an saint. He'll still leave the second the sun begins to rise. Commitment isn't exactly his forte.

#creepypasta #au #headcanons #the operator #slenderman #slenderverse #splendorman #trenderman #offenderman #i feel like i'm just gonna be yelling into the void #but my creepypasta brain cell just fired up and i'm gonna make it everyone's problem

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tangledfate · 3 months

Text

@diresang asked: ❛ fine, keep acting like you hate me. ❜ (from overlord husk @ angel 🖤)

“You can’t just walk away from me! You have to talk to me!” Angel swept down the hall, long legs carrying him from their shared room to the elevator that led down to the main floor of the casino. Dressed in a contrast of his usual a-line gown with a slit to his hip and the sheer flowing pink of his dressing gown; he turned in a twirl of skirts to frown at the man chasing after him.

“No, I don’t HUSKER” Manicured finger pressing the call button for the elevator to underscore his irritation–as if using Husk’s name wasn’t enough to do that. Not Daddy or Husky or Kitty or Whiskers–Husker. He should be counting his lucky stars that Angel hadn’t called him by his given name–Viktor.

{ Fine! Keep acting like you hate me! }

“What do you want from me?!” Angel snapped.

"You don't want me, you don't want to be here, you don't get to have me chasing your coat tails when you are ALL I have EVER wanted!”

Husk’s fingers clutched the string of pearls in his hand–the pearls he’d bought Angel ages ago–so tightly they trembled. They’d been left in his lap when Angel had left the room–and he’d been up and after him with a desperation he can’t remember feeling before the spider had swept into his life and stole his heart.

“When did I say I didn’t want you?! Alastor has YOUR SOUL, how am I supposed to enjoy being with you when you–” Angel cut him off as the elevator door opened.

"YOU are the reason we are in this situation, YOU don't get to dictate how I HAVE TO FIX IT!" He snapped, stepping into the elevator with the full intent of leaving Husk there.

It occurs to the former overlord that this was the first time since returning to The Amber Lion that he has faced–not Anthony, his lover; but–Angel, the madame of the casino. The wall he’d put between them since Angel had sold the soul they’d fought to regain from Valentino to Alastor–all to save HIM.

HIM, after he’d gambled away his soul and vanished for MONTHS. Angel had not only stepped up to run the casino in his stead–banding together with the rest of the staff as a makeshift family to keep them all afloat–but had then offered his own soul in exchange for Husks. And here he was taking out his frustration at the situation on him. Angel was right, this was HIS fault.

Hand finding the elevator doors as they started to close, he stepped in after him, door closing to confine them into the space. No more running. Angel hunched his shoulders, refusing to look at Husk, both sets of arms crossed defensively until Husk spoke.

“Of course I want you Angel, that’s why I’m so fucking pissed off! You’re always just out of my reach because of some stupid contract and just when I thought I had you, it went to shit.”

Free hand reaching for one of Angels, his thumbs traced his knuckles as he stared up at him, exhausted and pleading.

“You don’t get how much this is all eating me up. I'm trying to handle this. I'm trying to fix it. You don’t have to do anything; I just fucking need you here.” Dichromatic magenta eyes finally slid to him as Angel looked him over–saw through him–looking for SOMETHING. Some tell that this was a lie, that as soon as they go back up to their room he’s going to push him away again.

There’s nothing, and though he’s not quite ready to kiss and make up, he is satisfied. But the elevator is already on it’s way downstairs, so he sighs, his frame softening.

“Fine. We’re going to go downstairs, we’re going to get drinks and talk about this–” Husk kissed his knuckles.

“That’s all I want, Anthony.” Angel took his hand back.

“–and THEN, we’re going to go upstairs and you’re going to dress me in pearls.” A sharp toothed, impish smile crossing those pretty features as he added–

“And I don’t mean the ones in your hand.” Yet he still held out his hand for them.

#diresang #diresang ;; husk #{ answer }#{ never sure will you catch me if I should fall ;; overlord au ;; diresang }

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rosebalor · 7 months

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Chapter 1 (Miss I.D.G.A.F.)

(Sharing my story and love of writing with y’all)

I sit on the balcony of my one-bedroom apartment just staring out at the beautiful sunset sky. The soft breeze feels amazing in this Las Vegas heat. Before long, it's dark out and the lights from the High Roller are brighter than ever.

The Las Vegas strip is coming to life once again. I'm not into the whole gambling or party scene. I prefer staying in and reading a good book or watching Netflix. Call me boring but I'd much rather be safe than sorry especially when it comes to alcohol, drugs, and whatever else goes down here in "sin city". I've always been what most might perceive as a "good girl." I've never done anything bad in my life.

It may seem weird for someone like me to be living in such a party city but I have my reasons for living here. Well, two reasons actually. The first one is my best friend, Mel. She and I are as thick as thieves. We have known each other since freshman year of high school. I remember the first time I saw her. I was sitting in the cafeteria with my friends talking about our first day when in walks this gorgeous blonde with black cowboy boots.

Everyone was whispering all around about what she was wearing. This girl didn't have a care in the world about looking different. Clearly, she was not from Los Angeles. She had a brown bag lunch and was looking around for a place to sit. I got up from our table to introduce myself. I know what being the new girl is like and I wanted to make her feel welcomed.

From that day forward, we were inseparable. Amelia Benson, or Mel as she likes to be called, became my closest confidant. We are total opposites but somehow we just click. She has bleach blonde hair, blue eyes, fair-skinned and is about 5'8. I'm dark-haired with hazel eyes, tanned skin and is very petite at only 5'2. She loves to have fun and let loose while I'm more conservative and prefer the quiet.

She has been trying for years to get me out of my shell and has successfully done that once by making me get a tattoo when we first moved out. One week here and I now sport a heart and flower tattoo on my right shoulder. However, she has failed in getting me to go to clubs.

"Cmon, Nia! We're 21 now! It's like a right of passage to go out and get drunk now that we're legal!" she had told me on a few days after my birthday.

"No way! You know I hate that type of stuff."

"I don't get why. You're so pretty and you could honestly pull off any hot outfit and we could totally have fun on the strip."

I roll my eyes at her. She just doesn't understand that I have no interest in drinking and partying. It has nothing to do with how I look. I know I'm pretty and that guys check me out all of the time but I just don't care to flaunt that around.

My other reason for being here is my boyfriend Carter Montgomery. We've been together since jr high after so many years of being just friends. We grew up together and have been friends since practically birth. Weirdly enough, we're only 2 days apart. To this day, we still believe our mothers somehow planned it out that way.

Carter is the quarterback at UNLV. He got a full ride to go here and so I applied along with Mel and now Las Vegas has been our home for the past two years. We're currently juniors, Carter majoring in kinesiology, Mel in art history, and me in Psychology.

Since being out here, Carter and Mel have become closer since they both have the party streak. I don't mind when they hang out on the strip and at parties because I at least know they're safe. I know most people wouldn't be that trusting especially with a guy like Carter.

Carter is the big man on campus. Practically the whole school knows who he is. There is always a girl wanted to get with him but he shuts that down real quick. I don't blame other girls for throwing themselves at him. He's pretty hot with his brown, boyish hair, grey eyes, 6'2 frame, tan and toned body and a smile that could melt anyone's heart.

Carter can act like a douche, I mean what guy doesn't have that side to them? But I truly know him and I know the softer side he has. He's absolutely sweet, understanding and I know I can trust him. It also helps that after a night out, he always comes back to stay the night with me.

I may be a nice girl but even I have needs. I love Carter and I know he loves me so having sex felt like a normal thing. He has never pressured me into doing anything I don't want to do and that just makes me fall for him even more.

Just like clockwork, at around 1 AM, I hear someone at the door. I laugh as I hear Carter's voice as he cusses and fumbles with the lock. Eventually, he gets the door open and smiles as soon as he sees me.

I get up from the couch and hug him tightly.

"Mmm, I missed you," he says into my hair.

I smile, "I missed you too."

He lifts me up with ease and makes our way to the couch. He sits down and places me in his lap. I have my legs on either side of his and straddle him.

"How was your night?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Not bad, we all just hit a frat party so it was just pretty much the usual drunk people hanging out."

"And Mel?"

"She was there too. I made sure to walk her back to her apartment to make sure she got home safe."

I smile. Carter is such a gentleman.

He closes his eyes and I run my hands through his hair. I lean down and kiss his lips softly then make my way down to his neck. I bite down softly, sucking on his skin. He lets out a soft moan letting me know he's enjoying this.

We make out for a little while before Carter lifts me up yet again and walks us to the bedroom. He lays me down on the bed and hovers over me as he kisses me hard. Soon our clothes are off and he's inside me.

The only thing I hate about his drunk nights is how quick the sex is. I'm not saying the sex is bad but I usually feel a little frustrated after because it doesn't last as long as when he's sober. Within a few minutes, Carter is lying next to me asleep. I go to the bathroom and take a quick shower before getting back into bed and cuddling up to my snoring boyfriend.

The next day, I'm sitting at a frozen yogurt shop with Mel, listening to her talk about the party last night. I sit there eating my yogurt and pretending to listen. After a while, it gets boring when Mel talks about her partying but I've learned to block out most and listen just enough to make it look like I'm paying attention. It's a gift really.

We get interrupted by a few guys who ask us for our numbers. Mel gives them hers and makes them leave before they even have a chance to ask for mine again.

"So, you're going to the game on Saturday, right?"

"Well, my boyfriend is the quarterback so I kind of have to be there."

She nods her head. "Right. What about after? You should come out with us."

I sigh. "Not this again. You already know my answer to that."

"Stop being such a party pooper!" she says a little too loud. A few heads turn and look at us. She looks around silently apologizing to them and gets up.

"I'll be right back but this conversation isn't over."

I roll my eyes and go back to eating my fro-yo. As she walks to the bathroom, her phone goes off. Taylor Swift's "Shake it off" starts blaring. I reach for her phone to silent it surprised it's not on vibrate since she usually has it on that setting. I don't mean to look at the message on the screen but when I do, I'm in shock.

It's her old roommate Rachel, who I've never gotten along with, asking why Mel didn't call her earlier. She ends the text with "You better not be too busy making out with Carter!"

What the hell? As I'm about to silent the phone and put it back down, it goes off again. This time "Stay" by Sugarland starts playing. It's the chorus and the next verse that I know so well that catches my eye.

"Why don't you stay?

I'm down on my knees I'm so tired of bein' lonely Don't I give you what you need? When she calls you to go There is one thing you should know We don't have to live this way Baby, why don't you stay?You keep tellin' me, baby There will come a time When you will leave her arms And forever be in mine But I don't think that's the truth And I don't like bein' used, and I'm tired of waitin'It's too much pain to have to bear To love a man you have to share..."

I finally look at the name of who is texting her and almost drop the phone. Carter? What the fuck is going on? Why does she have that song set as his ringtone? I read his message and my heart stops.

"Hey baby, sorry I couldn't stay last night. I'll see you tonight though. Wear that outfit that I like so much."

Baby? Baby?!?! Oh. My. God.

My best friends are sneaking around behind my back.

#young adult #romance #new adult #relationship #heartbreak #breakup #lying #bad boy #Revenge #secret #lies #loss #love

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elendiliel · 8 months

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A Very Civil War

This idea has been buzzing around my head for a while, but seeing this post catapulted it up the priority list. (Yes, I know that's a mixed metaphor, but I don't know how to unmix it.)

---

Ratchet knew something was different about his Energon ration the moment he picked it up, and it took him less than another moment to figure out what it was. While the colour and consistency of his fuel were unchanged, its weight had slightly but significantly increased, and the liquid level had perceptibly risen, since he dispensed it. Someone had topped it up while his back was turned, and it wasn’t hard to guess who that person was. Only two other people had access to the Energon storage logs and would therefore know about his ration situation, and Optimus would never do anything so underhanded – not to one of his own team, anyway. That just left…

Sure enough, when he looked down at the occupant of the seat beside him, he met the steady, unwavering, utterly unrepentant gaze of his new second. Despite the discomfort he knew prolonged eye contact caused her, Glitch maintained it even while taking a sip of her own fuel, daring him to say something. (Instead of depleting the team’s limited Energon supply, the visitor from another universe was making do with Earth fossil fuels, which she could apparently process just fine in moderation. Ratchet had asked her once how she could drink the stuff; she had made a face and replied, “Reluctantly, and carefully. In excess, motor oil is an intoxicant for us, and there isn’t exactly much of me.” There certainly wasn’t; she was barely twice the height of an average human and slender with it, which had necessitated several modifications to their base’s furniture and the construction of a new medical berth that she could reach without standing on anything.)

He couldn’t resist that stare for long; could anybody? But he didn’t have to put up with her tampering with his fuel. “I don’t need this much.”

“Yes, you do. I know you don’t go out in the field much, which I still don’t understand but that’s an argument for another day, but you use your processor, your tools and your hands all the time, not to mention wrangling some pretty sizeable patients. All of that needs Energon. Which is why I’ve logged increased fuel intake as an official prescription for you.” Of course she had.

“I can overrule that,” he pointed out. He was the senior medic.

“Try it and I’ll set Prime and Raf on you. Maybe Magnus as well.” That was a battle Ratchet knew he’d lose. He could, after much practice, cope with Optimus’ gentle persuasion and occasional guilt-trips on their own and for good reasons, but when combined with Rafael’s pure, open compassion and concern and Ultra Magnus weaponising every relevant rule and procedure in the book, they would be irresistible. Better try another angle of attack. “All right, maybe a slight increment would be acceptable, but I certainly don’t need a full ration.”

“That isn’t a full ration,” Glitch countered. “You’ve been starving yourself for decades, so your system wouldn’t cope with that sudden increase. I planned to add a bit more each time, as much as was safe, hoping you wouldn’t notice. One gamble that didn’t come off, clearly.” She smiled up at him, and he knew he’d lost the battle. “We need you running at a hundred percent. For your own sake, not just because you’re our senior doc-‘bot.”

Well, he wasn’t going to surrender without a fight, and she’d given him an opening. “I am the senior medic of this team, which means I know we don’t have enough Energon for everyone. Not for any long period of time, and certainly not at our usual rate of injuries.”

“Then one of us has got our sums wrong,” she fired back. “Or we’re using different data. Factoring in my presence,” there wasn’t a hint of arrogance in that phrase; it was simply a statement of fact, “and assuming the current trends in Energon acquisition continue, there’s more than enough of a margin to let you stop short-changing yourself. I don’t run on your Energon, but I can protect our teammates in the field,” as she had both a shield mod and medical tools that could be re-deployed as secondary shields, “and patch up the injuries I can’t prevent right then and there. All things being equal, that cuts down fuel consumption past the point where you definitely don’t have to starve yourself. Skies above, I see why you and Prime are Amicae. You’re as bad as he is sometimes.” She didn’t mean to be insulting, Ratchet knew, and his oldest friend did have a tendency to put himself – and only himself – in harm’s way too often for comfort.

But if that wasn’t the racer calling the turbofox fast… “I suppose that is a hazard of our profession.” He looked meaningfully at the scar on Glitch’s upper chestplate, which he knew to be a memento of a Decepticon ambush in which she had protected her partner almost at the cost of her own spark.

“True,” she conceded. “How d’you think I know how to spot someone on starvation rations? Or how to do this?” She indicated Ratchet’s still-untouched Energon. “Holdover from boot camp. Our drill sergeant sometimes docked someone’s rations when he wanted to get creative with punishments.” Ratchet winced slightly. Such behaviour would not be acceptable under Optimus’ authority. “I thought I didn’t need as much as the others, so I’d just top theirs up with mine when they weren’t looking. Even when that wasn’t the case, the standard ration was plenty for a two-wheeler but not quite enough for a construction model like Bulk, so I’d give him a little extra when I could.” The corners of her speech synthesiser twitched up in a brief smile. “Heh, no wonder he was the only one who clocked what I was doing. Anyways, I didn’t realise how much of an effect that was having until after our three worst troublemakers had left. Suddenly I wasn’t nearly so snappish and started doing better on every type of exercise. Not much better, I’ll admit, probably because I was still staying up late reading.” She gave Ratchet an uncomfortably thoughtful look as she took another sip of oil. “Speaking of, once you’ve finished that, I strongly recommend you get some proper rest as well. Or there might be more than extra Energon in your next ration.”

Ratchet primed his voicebox and synth to say, “You wouldn’t,” but he knew she would. She was just as stubborn as him or Optimus, a very direct problem-solver, and quite possibly missing one or two blocks of ethical code. And he also knew Optimus was worried enough about him to back her up – as Magnus also would. Besides, it would be pleasant to power down properly for a while, trusting her to hold the fort, and to take the edge off the symptoms of Energon deprivation he had been resolutely ignoring for so long. It wasn’t as though he couldn’t go back to a reduced intake when her back was turned. Conceding defeat and ending their very civil war (for the time being), he finally picked up the doctored fuel and began to drink. As a broad grin spread across her face, he found he didn’t mind losing that battle. (Much.)

#transformers prime #transformers animated #fanfic #tfp ratchet #autobot oc #misplaced medic au

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