#WHO THE FUCK NEED CHANDELIER. THIS IS A POOR PERSON HOUSE

[goodold-fashioned-killerqueen]

born to draw block people making out... force to draw houses....

#i am losing my mind #the teacher wasn't there when i have to sent my site analysis and sketch #that's like half of my grades #AND I AM SICK #PROBABLY COVID #I AM A DISEASE WILD ANIMAL #PLEASE PITY ME AND ACCEPT MY WORK #I HAVE TO MAKE MORDEN HOUSE WHEELCHAIR ACCESSIBLE. MORDEN LOOK UGLY AS FUCK #joy and whimsy gone when they want boring ass contemporary house #shit was ass #to top it all off. i also have project that i have to design #i just copied my dad homework at this point since he love this design so bad and he offer it to me #but like WHY STAIRS #WHY DOOR WINDOWS #I HAVE TO DRAW THEM LIKE DOOR BUT SMALL #WHAT THE FUCK #WHO THE FUCK NEED CHANDELIER. THIS IS A POOR PERSON HOUSE #come to think of it.. no nvm chandelier is cool #but i still hate to draw walls. and window #and doors .. and stairs... you have to remember the size of the room for law and how wide and steep stairs has to be #and how roof can be only 32-35 degrees or they will look goofy.. #and definitely fall of due to gravity #at first i want to add elevator in this house but came to think of it.. nvm fuck elevator #i lost it #my mind #cool #rumbles #if i have rabies i will definitely going nuts and bite everyone in my college rn.. #that is how much i has lost it at thie point

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Calling Out For Her

Cassandra Dimitrescu x She/Her Reader

A/N: Cassandra is my favorite I just love that girl. I thought it was real neat that Lady D could just call out for her and she’d appear so that inspired this. Some typical resident evil violence and language in here and Cassandra isn’t exactly nice at first, but she figures out how to be personable...kinda. Thanks for reading! Word Count: 6,158

(Y/n) was exceptionally careful. If tasked to understand what had allowed her to survive in the castle for so long, she would say it was because she was so careful, meticulous, with her work. All she had to do was follow a certain set of rules.

A polite tone brimming with reverence, ‘Yes Lady Dimitrescu’ or, ‘yes ladies Bela, Cassandra and Daniela’. Never a no, even if warranted, unless you want your eyes level with your toes and cool air meeting your stump of a neck. Always serve with a curtsy, never meet their eyes, never ask questions, keep your head down and clean, clean, clean like your life depends on it because like with everything else, it does.

The bottom line was that (Y/n) knew how to survive in the castle of Dimitrescu. It took tact, forward thinking, and a bit of luck. But today, after a very respectable nine months of service, (Y/n)’s luck had apparently run out. She had royally fucked up.

“Oh, fuck me—!“ (Y/n) hissed, followed by a sharp gasp as her grip slipped because of the dip of the chandelier.

She had no one to blame but herself. She had been assigned to clean the banisters and chandeliers of the foyer and had leaned out just a little too far with her duster. Thus, her scramble for purchase on the confounding light fixture to save her from cracking her skull on the marble floor below.

“H...help!” (Y/n) called, barely above her usual speaking tone. She dared not speak louder for fear of alerting any of the bloodthirsty daughters of her predicament. She could only hope one of her fellow maids was working nearby.

“No, nonono—“ the words left (Y/n)’s  mouth faster than her lips could move. One of the metal weldings that held up the chandelier was creaking and becoming dangerously loose as time ticked by.

“Help!” (Y/n) called a little louder, the desperation bleeding into her tone as her fingers dug painfully into the decorative, jewel encrusted rim of the chandelier.

Yet still not a sound besides the creak of old metal giving way. Nine months of service to the Lady of the Castle and this was never how (Y/n) imagined she’d go. It wasn’t uncommon for some maids to take their life by their own hand, but (Y/n) wanted to keep fighting—!

“Ah!” (Y/n) cried sharply. The chandelier’s tether frayed a bit further, causing it to drop a few inches. She was fully panicking now, arms aching and chest heaving as she dangled. She made the mistake of looking at the cold, hard floor below and that only made her heart beat faster. She didn’t want to go out like this!

The chandelier fell another inch, stinging (Y/n)’s fingers. She was gripping so hard she was sure her fingers must have been bleeding. She needed someone, anyone to come and somehow in her panicked state, she thought of her Lady. If her Lady needed something done and done fast, all she had to do was call out her name and she would be there in an instant. Somehow in (Y/n)’s desperate mind, she thought that calling upon the most ruthless of the Dimitrescu Family was her best course of action.

“Cassandra!” (Y/n) yelled, closing her eyes tightly and fighting to maintain her precarious grip.

For a few seconds, there was just the creaking the chandelier and (Y/n) didn’t know whether to be relieved or devastated by the silence. Before she could resign herself to her fate, a faint buzzing could be heard below, growing in intensity until (Y/n) could see the swarm of blowflies collecting below her until they completely formed the middle Dimitrescu daughter. She looked up at (Y/n) with a sneer on her blood stained lips.

“Well, well, well. I must say that this is a first for me.” Cassandra hummed, a fist over her hip as she craned her head up, twisting this way and that to really get a good look. Yes, a maid hanging from a chandelier must have been a novelty to the monstrous woman indeed.

“Just how did you get into this predicament little mouse? Perhaps you are more of a monkey, hmm?” Cassandra giggled sadistically before idly licking the blood from her lips, smearing it around more than anything.

“I leaned too far over the banister while I was dusting.” (Y/n) explained through clenched teeth, trying to maintain her aching grip.

“Mmm, how clumsy of you.” Cassandra laughed again, moving her arms to rest across her chest, she propped her chin up in her gloved hand as she regarded (Y/n) with glee. “You know, I was going to skin you alive. You had called me away from cellar time after all, new arrivals are always the most fun to break. Not to mention that you, some lowly maid, think that I, a noblewoman of the House, am at your beck and call. Yes, I was going to kill you myself but now I’m curious,” Cassandra’s smirk widened to a full blown maniacal grin, “what will give out first? Your arms, or the chandelier?”

“Lady Cassandra, please!” (Y/n) wasn’t sure where she thought pleading would get her, but people will do all kinds of things they wouldn’t normally do under duress. Including begging a known sadistic killer to save them from certain death.

“Oh, she remembers her manners!” Cassandra mocked, “Do me a favor and just fall already. I fear I might be developing a crick in my neck.”

(Y/n) could feel the heat of incoming tears sting her eyes as she dangled several feet above her one woman audience. Well, no one could say she didn’t try. She started mumbling a little prayer for herself that turned into a yelp as the chandelier fell another half a foot, a much larger drop than the occasional two to three inches. The sudden gravity shift yanked (Y/n)’s hands clean off the chandelier, slicing her skin terribly as she tried to grab back on. She missed, she was falling.

(Y/n) couldn’t even scream, she just closed her eyes as tightly as she could and waited to meet the ground... speaking of which, shouldn’t she have hit it already?

(Y/n) peeled open an eye and slowly allowed herself to finally take in the buzzing that was surrounding her. Blowflies. She peered down past the swarm to see Cassandra, half formed with her arms outstretched, ready to receive her. (Y/n) could only stare, mouth slightly agape, as she was settled in Cassandra’s arms, watching the blowflies that had carried her mesh back into Cassandra’s legs.

“Why so surprised?” Cassandra asked with a mock sweetness that made (Y/n) shiver, “I simply couldn’t let you die just yet. No, I think I’d like to play with you just a little while longer.”

Cassandra happened to glance at the bloody hands clutched tightly to the maid’s chest and hummed. Adjusting her strong hold on the paralyzed maiden, she clutched the outermost wrist tightly and pulled it to her bloodied lips for a sample.

“Mm,” Cassandra appraised, passing her tongue over the cuts again, “yes, I think I’ll enjoy taking my time with you.” She cackled before unceremoniously dropping (Y/n) to the floor at a much safer, but still painful height.

“Go patch yourself up, my prey. You’re dismissed.” She said and then, she dispersed into a swarm of blowflies and was gone, her laughter bouncing off of the high ceilings.

(Y/n) sat on the floor dumbstruck, before finally getting up on shaky legs. She made her way to the maid’s quarters and upon seeing that it was empty, she allowed herself to cry as she cleaned and dressed her fingers. Lady Cassandra had saved her, saved her for a worse fate by her own hand no doubt. All she could do was wait.

***

Cassandra was a menace.

After the chandelier incident, (Y/n) found herself assigned to areas of the castle that Cassandra was known to frequent. There was never a minute’s rest when the middle child was free from her mother and sisters and even if Cassandra was occupied, (Y/n) often found herself nipped by the occasional stray blowfly as she did her work. There was no question in her mind where they had come from.

Yes, having caught Lady Cassandra’s eye had created a lot of extra work for the poor girl with extra antagonism. She’d poke and prod and pull, jostling (Y/n) around while she tried to stay on task. She would drag bloodied bodies through the carpeted halls (Y/n) had just cleaned and laugh as the poor maid went to restock her cleaning supplies. Cassandra would even demand (Y/n) drop everything to run her baths when she had grow tired of running around with blood smeared all over her like a toddler left alone with finger paints. She’d smugly present her bloodied face to (Y/n), silently demanding she wipe it clean for her and when she was satisfied, she would lean back in her tub and order (Y/n) to clean the bloodied weapons she’d drop dangerously close to her feet.  

Cassandra was insufferable, yet, (Y/n) couldn’t help but think positively because it could have easily been much worse. For as taxing as dealing with Cassandra could be, she had never hurt her, not really anyway. Not like the poor maid who went to clean the armory and left with one less arm than she went in with. The occasional bite of a blowfly stung and the shoves and pinches could be bruising, but at least she still had all her limbs, no broken bones or sickle scars puckering her skin.

(Y/n) sighed to herself as she polished the same battle axe for the third time that week. She was the only maid allowed to clean the armory anymore after Bianca lost her arm. Lady Cassandra had said that only (Y/n) knew how to clean her toys with proper care and could make them twice as shiny and sharp. A few of the other maids would darkly joke with (Y/n) in the serving quarters about the middle Dimitrescu having a crush on her, but (Y/n) would simply dismiss their gossip and continue her work without complaint. Such rumors could be dangerous after all.

As (Y/n) heaved the axe back into its place on the wall, she heard the thrum of quick light feet running across the carpeted hall just outside. She frowned to herself, but kept working. Assuming it was just just another poor girl who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. However the door the the armory clicked open, and the slightly out of breath maid (Y/n) recognized as Moiara peaked in, flushed from all her running no doubt.

“Lady Dimitrescu is ordering all of the maids back to their quarters immediately.” The girl urgently informed.

“Whatever for?” (Y/n) asked, brows furrowed in concern. It was a most unusual order.

“Apparently a pack of Moroaica have escaped the cellar and are currently roaming the castle. The Lady’s daughters are hunting them down, but it could take some time to clear everything up. Lady Dimitrescu doesn’t wish to lose more workers than she can replace.” Moiara explained, albeit the last line came out a touch bitterly.

“I understand, I’ll make my way now. Be safe.”

“Thank you.” Moiara nodded before darting off again.

(Y/n) cautiously made her way to the door and peered down both ends of the hallway. Noting that it was clear, she left the doorway and shut the armory door before quickly walking in the direction of the maid’s quarters. It was quite a walk and (Y/n)’s heart went out to Moiara and the rest of the girls who were still scattered further within the castle’s walls.

The halls were eerily quiet and empty, not unusual, but with the added threat lurking, well, it made it a tad more unsettling. It was laughable really, for (Y/n) to be afraid now. The threat of death loomed over her head constantly and only now she was concerned?

(Y/n) chuckled despite herself as she rounded another bend, hardly checking her surroundings as she crossed the third hallway and then the fourth.

“Oh!” (Y/n) tripped on a raised wrinkle in the rug, her hand automatically grasped the curtain beside her to steady herself. She was lucky it didn’t rip or surely the Lady of the House would have her head, never mind the Moroaica.

As she made to steady herself on her own two feet again, the curtain she had grasped twisted harshly and was ripped from her surprised and slackened grip. (Y/n) felt her blood run cold and her feet turn to lead as the ‘curtain’ reached out for her, revealing rotten, gnarled fingers that snapped (Y/n)’s bicep in a firm squeeze. As it completed its turn, (Y/n) saw scraggly, yellowed teeth lunge for her neck.

She attempted to keep the stray Moroaica at bay. The whole interaction, frightening and life threatening as it was, was a near silent struggle. It was as if (Y/n) had lost her voice completely. All that came from her were stuttering gasps as the creature snarled and snapped at her.

It wrestled her to the floor and clawed at her clothes and skin, drawing the blood that it seemed to desperately crave. (Y/n) struggled and kicked at the creature but it was unrelenting and finally something happened that helped (Y/n) find her voice, she screamed.

The Moroaica clawed at her ribs, tearing fabric, skin and muscle alike. (Y/n)’s fighting grew weaker the more the monster dug at her and her mouth was still parted from her pained screams but they were now near silent croaks as the pain and blood loss threatened her consciousness. Seemingly noticing her weakened state, the Moroaica neared its yellowing teeth to her exposed flesh and—

“Oo, look Bela! I found another one~!”

(Y/n) reflexively closed her eyes and felt something hot and wet splatter across her face. She heard a squelching noise and felt dead weight fall against her body as Daniela’s giggles filled the hall.

“You shouldn’t be having so much fun.” Bela grumbled at her sister. “I knew mother should have sent you to your room. It would have been a more fitting punishment.”

“Okay, so maybe I forgot to lock the cellar, but you can’t say you aren’t having a good time as well.” Daniela said, grinning when Bela rolled her eyes, a small shadow of a smile forming on the eldest sister’s lips.

“Aw, look,” Daniela grunted, kicking at the dead Moroaica until its corpse rolled off of (Y/n), “well, let’s not let her go to waste. Her blood still smells good.”

“Wait, Daniela,” Bela said, holding her younger sister’s shoulder as she peered down at the bloodied maid her breaths coming raggedly as she fought to open her eyes. Bela sniffed and winced, shooting her sister a look.

“Daniela, take a closer look.”

“Ugh, fine,” the youngest groaned and leaned forward, “I don’t see why...” Daniela paused, her back went rigid. She just stared at (Y/n) for a few moments before finally turning to her sister, lips pursed.

“Cass is literally going to kill me.”

“You think?” Bela said, almost with complete disinterest.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Help me! If she dies, I die!” Daniela hissed, couching beside (Y/n) to assess the damage.

“I don’t know, I think I would kind of like to see Cassandra hunt you for sport.” Bela smirked.

“Bela!”

“Alright, alright.” Bela sighed, couching at (Y/n)’s other side.

The last thing the maid could make out before succumbing to unconsciousness was a dull, muffled buzzing and a feeling of weightlessness.

***

When (Y/n) awoke, she immediately noted that her throat was drier than a desert wind; her stomach and ribs also burned and itched like nothing she had ever experienced. She gingerly touched her stomach and found it covered in bandages. Her head ached so she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes for a few moments.

With great effort she hoisted herself into a sitting position and had to do a double take of her surroundings. This was not the maid’s quarters and given the amount of time she had been spending in here lately, she was quick to realize she was in Lady Cassandra’s room, in her bed. Before (Y/n) could really let it all sink in, the door was yanked open.

Cassandra stalked in, shutting the door tightly behind her before standing over (Y/n) with a fire blazing in her golden eyes. A blowfly (Y/n) had initially failed to notice crawled down the bedpost before meshing back into Cassandra’s body. Apparently she had been being watched.

“Why didn’t you call for me?” Cassandra gritted out, gripping the bedpost so hard (Y/n) was afraid it would splinter.

“Lady Cassandra?” (Y/n) questioned, still feeling numb and achy and not at all ready for such aggressive energy.

“Glad to know you still remember.”Cassandra said mockingly before her voice became low and serious again, “You were in trouble, why didn’t you call for me?”

“I don’t...” (Y/n) winced and held her head, it felt like she was on a boat in rocky waters.

Cassandra took notice and with surprising gentleness, lowered (Y/n) to rest fully against the bed once more. She even offered (Y/n) water and helped her drink. Then she checked her temperature, the cool touch of her skin felt wonderful against (Y/n)’s aching head.

“What happened?” (Y/n) murmured, whining when Cassandra went to remove her hand. A bit hesitantly, she put it back. A small, prideful smile curved at her lips when (Y/n) relaxed against her touch.

“Don’t you remember?” Cassandra scoffed, “I swear, you humans are so unbelievably fragile. You were attacked by a Moroaica that strayed from its pack. Bela and the idiot who caused the whole mess found you. I did some sucking up to mother and we fixed you up with a little herbal remedy,” Cassandra frowned her voice becoming a tad accusatory, “Yet you still slept for a long time.”

“I’m sorry to have been an inconvenience Lady Cassandra.” (Y/n) spoke up after trying to absorb all that Cassandra had told her. Surely it would have taken more than a, ‘little herbal remedy’ to fix what had happened to her.

(Y/n) scrunched her eyes shut when Cassandra suddenly growled and pinched the maid’s nose.

“I’m glad you realize it. Do you know how infuriating it is to watch another maid handle my weaponry all wrong? To not make my room the way that I like it? Ugh, I’d have killed them all if mother let me.” She let go of (Y/n)’s nose, swiping the side of her index finger playfully over the bridge a couple times before re-settling her hand over (Y/n)’s cheek.

“That’s why, when you’re all better, you are going to have to train one of those imbeciles how to do it right.”

“I can do it myself, Lady Cassandra. I can get back to work tomorrow I’m sure of it.” (Y/n) nearly pleaded. She was sure any girl she trained would end up killed anyway. There were too many little things that could set Cassandra off to count.

“There is no more cleaning for you. You’re retired.”

“Retired?” (Y/n) couldn’t help but gawk up at Cassandra. The notion was wholly unbelievable. No one retired from serving the Dimitrescus’ unless you counted dying as a form of retirement.

“Yes.” Cassandra said with near vicious finality.

“Lady Cassandra, my parents count on the lei I send them from my job here, please reconsider. There is no work for me back at the village and I’d just be another mouth my family cannot afford to feed.” (Y/n) beseeched, her body quaked with fever.

“Calm yourself.” Cassandra spoke as if attempting to be soft, but was still very on edge. “Your family will still receive money. You aren’t going back to the village.”

“I’m not?” (Y/n)’s brows drew together with further confusion, “but, then what will be my purpose if I’m not to work?”

“Does it really matter?” Cassandra flustered, a buzzing sound filled the space between them, “Your family is getting money and you don’t have to do anything for it, be grateful!” Cassandra pinched (Y/n)’s cheek a bit harshly before standing and stalking away. The buzzing following her as she tore the door open once more.

“I’ll be back with lunch.” The Dimitrescu grumbled before closing the door behind her once more.

“What is going on?” (Y/n) whispered to herself in disbelief before resting her head fully back against the pillow. She caught movement in the corner of her eye and turned her head just in time to watch a blowfly crawl back into the dark canopy of the bed.

***

(Y/n) wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Suddenly, she had all this free time on her hands and would for a long time apparently. It was nice when she was still recovering, but now that she had healed, she felt antsy.

Cassandra had handpicked a trembling maid for (Y/n) to train, but even those sessions did not last long as the poor girl, Anca was her name, was still expected to complete other chores. Something that did help to pass the time however was Cassandra herself, strangely enough. She was always the one to bring (Y/n) meals unless she was busy with some task her mother had given her, also giving (Y/n) little gifts and talking to her throughout each day. Sometimes the ‘gifts’ were gruesome and the talks seemed more like interrogations, but the effort in which Cassandra put into every interaction left (Y/n) intrigued with, and appreciative of the middle child.

Now wasn’t one of those times unfortunately, and (Y/n) found herself pacing the floor of her room, yes, one of her very own. Given to her by Cassandra right across the hall from her own. Now that she was well enough to do more on her own, she had been moved there about three weeks ago to have her own space. Another thing that was unheard of coming from the middle Dimitrescu. (Y/n) paused by the window to look out upon the snowy ground below.

“Miss (Y/n)?” A knock on the door, “May I speak with you?”

“Anca,” (Y/n) paused her paces, that was strange. There had been no plans for a lesson tonight. Nevertheless, (Y/n) was happy for the company. Ever since Cassandra had removed her from service, the other maids had avoided (Y/n) like a plague “please come in.”

The nervous little maid came in, closing the door tightly behind her, shoulders stiff as she slowly approached and took a seat in the chair (Y/n) offered to her.

“Are you alright? You’re shaking.” (Y/n) frowned, reaching out to comfort her only to watch Anca shrink away from her hand.

“Lady Cassandra,” she spoke, looking wildly around the room, “she will kill me I’m sure of it. What game are you playing?”

“Game? I’m playing no game.” (Y/n) tried to assure. “Has she said anything to you? I promise I’m covering every base I can—”

“You aren’t doing enough!” She screeched, startling the other. “I’ve seen the way she treats you. The privileges you’ve gained. This is all a set up! You were in my shoes not long ago, have you really lost your humanity so quickly?”

“Anca, please, calm yourself. I’m not working against you, I swear.” (Y/n) tried to explain. “Tell me what’s wrong, let me help you. How can I help you?”

“How?” Anca mumbled, rubbing at her dark rimmed eyes. “It’s all because of you that I’m in this mess to begin with!”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Anca.”

“No, I really don’t think you are.” Anca sniffed, rising from her chair. “But maybe there is something you can do to help me. I’m already dead, but I want to hurt Lady Cassandra before I go and I think I can do just that,” she pulled a knife from her apron, “if I take you down with me!”

“Anca!” (Y/n) screamed, stumbling away just before the knife could strike her.

“Just hold still! I’ll do it fast, please!” Anca cried as she swiped at her again. “Let me just have this one thing! This one last fuck you to this hell hole!”

“Stop! You’re making a mistake!” (Y/n) tried again, wrestling with Anca for the knife.

The scuffle went on for minutes before (Y/n) was thrown to the back wall, the knife missed her head just barely and sunk into the wood behind her. As Anca struggled to hold her in place and wedge the knife free, (Y/n) called out for her without even realizing it until the blood drained from Anca’s face.

“Cassandra!”

“No, shut up! Shut up you bitch!” Anca squealed, rocking the knife more vigorously.

“Cass—“ (Y/n) tried to call out again, this time fully aware of what she was doing, only to be head-butted by Anca in a desperate attempt to quiet her while she continued to work at the knife.

It was too late for that however, as proven by angry buzzing sounds roaring through the hallway and sliding under the door before forming right at Anca’s back, a cold hand joined Anca’s over the knife and grasped her so hard, (Y/n) could hear the maid’s fingers crack.

“You want this knife, do you?” Cassandra sneered, “Please, allow me.”

Cassandra tugged the knife from the wall like it had been warm butter, Anca’s hand still clenched in her own. She used her other arm to pull Anca off of (Y/n) with a rough tug and hardly took more than a few steps away before plunging the knife deep into the girl’s chest.

“There you go. You’re welcome you miserable little wretch.” Cassandra raked the knife downward, slicing Anca’s flesh all the way down to the hip as the poor girl screamed. “That will teach you to touch what doesn’t belong to you!”

(Y/n) could only watch, wide-eyed and trembling as Cassandra dissolved into her swarm, allowing Anca to fall to the floor before hundreds of little mouths began working at her flesh until the screaming ceased and all that was discernible was a frozen expression of agony on Anca’s face.

The blowflies came back together after a few more moments of feeding and Cassandra reformed, crouched beside (Y/n). (Y/n) didn’t even realize she had sunk to the floor during the gruesome attack.

Cassandra raised a blood covered hand to (Y/n)’s cheek, turning the face in her grasp, she assessed the damage, buzzing all the while. Somehow the sound felt, calming, reassuring. (Y/n) didn’t even flinch away from her touches and instead found herself leaning into them.

“Just look at what that thing did to you,” Cassandra hissed as she watched the blood leak from (Y/n)’s nose, “I should have killed her even slower.”

(Y/n) sniffled, leaning her head on Cassandra’s shoulder, “Thank you for coming.”

“I’ll always come to you if you call for me,” Cassandra sighed and pulled (Y/n) into her lap. She smelled almost overwhelmingly of blood, but (Y/n) couldn’t bring herself to care. “No one has ever called for me like you have before. No one that wasn’t my mother or sisters anyway,” Cassandra bit her lip, “I... at first, I was enraged that you called for me that first time, but the more I thought about it... Ugh! You made me feel all gross and buzzy inside. I’m just so used to humans fearing me, associating me with death. Never have I been called by one expecting to be saved from it.”

“Is that why you helped me after that Moroaica had attacked me?” (Y/n) asked, her voice still muffled by Cassandra’s shoulder. She didn’t really want to catch sight of Anca’s remains again while in the arms of her killer.

“Yes. I’m still mad at you for that.” Cassandra growled, “Why didn’t you call for me that time? I thought we had an understanding.”

“I’m sorry,” (Y/n) chuckled despite everything, “But I think understandings are usually met through open communication. I’m sorry I didn’t interpret your bug bites and general antagonisms as anything but blatant harassment.”

“Excuse me?” Cassandra snarled, reminding (Y/n) just how frightening she could be.

“I, I’m sorry Lady Cassandra. I forget myself.” (Y/n) stammered before gasping as Cassandra effortlessly rose to her feet with (Y/n) still in her arms.

“You must be awfully tired to be so mouthy. I can’t imagine you’ll want to sleep with a corpse on your rug so you’ll just have to sleep in my room until the maids clean this mess up. I suppose I’ll need to fix your nose too. So fragile, my prey is.” Cassandra sighed, clearly feeling inconvenienced by the whole situation. Though she carefully maneuvered out of the doorway so (Y/n) wouldn’t bump against it as they made the short trip across the hall to her room.

“You treat me quite well for being prey.” (Y/n) tested with caution. “You protect me, but why? Is it all so you can end me yourself at your own leisure?”

“Oh wow Cass, you really know how to make a maiden feel special.”

“I knew she was full of it, Bela! I bet they haven’t so much as kissed yet!”

(Y/n) felt Cassandra’s grip on her tighten as the mocking voices of her sisters closed in on them before Cassandra could slink into her room.

“Shut the hell up and mind your own business!” Cassandra fumed, crossing the threshold into her room before kicking the door shut, making a thunderous slam reverberate off of the castle walls.

Bela and Daniela merely giggled, seeping through the cracks of the doors before reforming over their sister’s bed, nearly falling on top of each other as Cassandra sped past them to take (Y/n) into her en-suite bathroom.

She placed (Y/n) on top on the counter and tweaked her nose without warning, making (Y/n) yelp in pain.

“Quiet prey, I needed to set your nose back into place is all,” Cassandra wrinkled her nose as more blood oozed from the abused cartilage, “damn, why must you smell so enticing.”

(Y/n) couldn’t find any words, both because her nose stung like hell and she was still stuck on what Daniela and Bela were taunting Cassandra about, so she just managed a small shrug.

Cassandra hardly seemed to mind her lack of verbal response. She was too busy grinding her teeth as her sisters continued to whisper and laugh in the bedroom. Cassandra quickly wiped and stuffed (Y/n)’s nose, nearly hissing at her to remain still before going back to deal with her unruly siblings, licking the stray blood from her fingers as she went.

(Y/n) tried to give her some privacy, she really did, but it was hard not to listen in when they were speaking so loudly, and about herself no less.

“You two get out of my room, now!” Cassandra commanded.

“Why? It’s not like anything unseemly is going to be happening in here. Right, Daniela?” Bela giggled while Daniela downright cackled with glee.

“Get. Out. Now!” Cassandra bellowed.

“Oh no Cassie,” Daniela waggled a finger, snatching it back before Cassandra could bite it, “you spend weeks pretending to have gone all the way with dear (Y/n) over there like some casanova and now we find out she doesn’t even know you like her?”

“What’s the matter Cassandra? It isn’t like you to be so chaste.” Bela said with a smirk.

“She must really like this one to be taking her time like this.” Daniela hypothesized with a bloodstained grin.

“Leave you idiots!” Cassandra nearly screamed, “She can probably hear everything you’re spewing! I’ll throw you out in the cold, don’t think I won’t!”

“Geez Cass, no need to be so hostile,” Bela shivered at the thought.

“Yeah, you take your well deserved teasings or we’ll tell mother you are not playing fair.” Daniela added with a pout.

Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose shutting her eyes tightly before releasing her nose with a growl and snapping her gaze back to her sisters.

“What do you want?” She grumbled.

“Oo! I want the best bits of your next hunt!” Daniela immediately proclaimed.

“I want to watch you flounder about whilst you try to explain your affections to the maiden.” Bela had said after a moment of consideration.

“Oh! That sounds fun. I retract my previous statement. I want what Bela’s having.” Daniela wiggled.

“I hate you both.” Cassandra huffed before stalking back to the bathroom, her giggling sister’s on her heels. (Y/n) quickly shot her gaze down at her swinging feet, suddenly more interested in the patterns of the floor below.

It didn’t take long for Cassandra to grab (Y/n)’s jaw and pull her face upward to meet her golden eyes.

“Listen prey,” Cassandra swallowed and blinked, her eyes darting all around (Y/n)’s face, “I...”

“Come on, Cassandra. It’s not that difficult.” Bela cooed, egging her sister on.

“I could tell her for you. That would be fun.” Daniela suggested, shrinking back just a bit at the look Cassandra shot her over her shoulder.

“Prey, (Y/n), I... Why is this so hard!” She stomped her foot and her nails bit into (Y/n)’s skin a bit too harshly, “I like you a lot and that’s why I’ve been helping you. I want you to like me too. Do you? Be honest.” She asked with a bit of hostility.

Did (Y/n) like Cassandra? Either way, it seemed like a death sentence to say no. Cassandra seemed to notice (Y/n)’s trepidation and quickly added,

“You don’t have to be scared. I won’t hurt you, just tell me the truth. If the answer is not to my liking then I guess I’ll simply have to try harder.” She said as if the words physically hurt her to say.

(Y/n) thought back on all of her interactions with Cassandra in a new light. Actually being caught as she fell, the schoolyard boy with a crush behavior (which honestly didn’t give the her any points but did make sense for how the murderous woman might try to show affection), most promising was how she brought (Y/n) back to health and continued to send money to her struggling family despite not working. Then of course she had saved her from Anca’s knife, wasting no time in cutting her down and checking (Y/n) over with care.

(Y/n) gave Cassandra a small smile that steadily grew a bit wider as golden eyes traced the movement and a hopeful sounding buzz began warbling in the back of her throat. Even the sisters standing behind her buzzed in unison, seemingly feeling their sister’s hope and growing excitement.

“Lady Cassandra, I like you too—Eep!”

Cassandra’s face dove into (Y/n)’s neck as her strong arms wrapped around (Y/n) to hold her still as she nuzzled and buzzed to her heart’s content. Bela and Daniela dissolved into their swarms and were haphazardly flying around them in celebration.

Cassandra gave (Y/n)’s neck a playful nip, much softer than a blowfly, before standing back to her full height and throwing (Y/n) over her shoulder.

“Lady Cassandra?” (Y/n) tried, wiggling a bit in the sudden new hold.

“Shhh, I’ve been waiting for this moment for weeks.” Cassandra said, craning her neck to look up at her sisters still buzzing above them, “Buzz off.” She told them. The clouds of flies let out a bout of disembodied laughter before slipping back under the door, feeling that they had given their sister enough grief for one night.

Once Cassandra was sure they were gone, she tossed (Y/n) on to the bed and climbed in as well, hovering over the stuttering maiden.

“Wuh- wait, Cassandra, I know we established we like each other but—“ the former maid flustered as Cassandra rested her full weight over (Y/n)’s body and moaned pleasantly in her ear.

“Mm, you’re so warm. I could just lay here forever.” She sighed, snaking her hands underneath (Y/n)’s back.

“Thank... you?” (Y/n) awkwardly replied. For as tall and strong as Cassandra was, she was surprisingly light. (Y/n) figured the fact that she was made up of flies had something to do with that.

Cassandra hummed some more, nuzzling her nose in the crook of (Y/n)’s neck and breathing so deeply that (Y/n) couldn’t help but giggle. There was a bit of concern bleeding in the back of her mind, but the smiling lips on her collarbone were quick to distract her.

“I quite like it when you make that sound, it’s sweet. But right now I’m quite tired, and I would like for you to be quiet now. I’m listening to your blood move.”

Well, that was a slightly terrifying admission. (Y/n) must’ve been going mad because she reacted no differently than if she had said she was listening to her heartbeat.

“Goodnight then.” (Y/n) murmured, slowly patting Cassandra’s hair, earning a low continuous buzzing that persisted until they had fallen asleep together.

#re8 oneshots #resident evil oneshots #resident evil village oneshots #cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x reader

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Nat and the House: Jameson

CW: Pet whump survivor, collar mentions, references to past pet whump, referenced ptsd flashbacks

Jake Gets Stabbed: First Second Third Fourth

“Okay, well. Here we are.” Nat opens the door for him, swinging back the heavy wood and stepping inside. The sun is warm on his back, but it drops away into a chill as he steps inside. His eyes shift back and forth, trying to bury his curiosity under a tight jaw and narrowed eyes.

The house is big, although not as big as Jake Stanton’s. It’s old, and creaky, and feels alive in a way that newer houses don’t. It’s a place that has seen so many lives move through its halls, felt so many hands on doorknobs and walls, that it’s taken in some of each person who has slept here. They’ve left something behind, and it’s the breath inside the house.

It’s the whisper of air against the back of his neck, slightly chilled, that tells him that a hundred voices have bounced off these walls, with their own pain and fear, long before his added to the chorus. 

Jameson swallows, lingering in the doorway and staring ahead at a carpeted staircase that winds up and disappears around a 90-degree turn, at the coat closet just beside it. There’s a built-in shelf on the landing he can see the bottom half of, lined with photographs in small cheap dollar-store frames. 

Off to one side of the entryway, there’s a big double-door-sized opening into a gigantic living room - to the other side, a dining room with a large table covered in boxes, paperwork, books, and some flannels hung from an empty china cabinet, looking still damp, drying. Beyond that, a small kitchen, he can just see the corner of the oven.

This is a house with breath. This is a house with a voice.

The house tastes like a crackling fire, the mix of heated air and chilled, melted marshmallows inside s’mores, the crunch of graham cracker and chocolate bar underneath. 

This is a good house.

“Sorry,” Natalie Yoder says over one shoulder, moving ahead of him to flick a light switch. Jameson flinches, just a little, when a warm yellow bulb inside a false chandelier lights above his head. Her braid thumps against her back, a deep chocolate brown with strips of silvery white running through it. “I haven’t had anyone here in a long time, so the house is a mess. Just me these days.”

He nods, even though she can’t see him. Natalie Yoder has a good voice, too, it’s full and warm, it tastes like hot chocolate, the kind that goes light on the sugar and is just a little bitter and spiced with cinnamon. Her voice feels smooth on his tongue. He can trust people who taste like this, he thinks, and he takes another step inside.

“H-How… how long?” His voice croaks a little, it rasps. Long-term damage to his vocal chords, they said, from screaming so often for so long. 

She stops and looks back at him, and there’s a gentleness in her tempered by the steel he’s already seen. She gives him a slight smile. “Long enough to speak to Dr. Berger, get you on your meds, and give them time to settle in your system. Could be a month or two to figure out exactly what’s going to work for you. Then see what happens with a couple of controlled interactions.”

He nods again. She speaks like an expert - she is the expert, he guesses, because she’s seen a hundred people like him in her life and Jameson has only ever known himself. 

Not that he’s even sure he knows himself that well, most days.

He has his collar on, buckled tightly around his neck, a comfortable constriction. A reminder that he isn’t in control, someone else is, and what happens from here isn’t his fault. It’s not his responsibility, because a pet can’t be responsible for anything.

He left Jake Stanton lying on a couch’s pull-out bed because he can’t go up the stairs, pale and unconscious, and he left Allyn crying in their shared room, curled up in the closet, running their fingers over the names that Jameson carved into the wall there.

He lost control, for just a minute, of where he was and who was with him, and now…

He’s safer with the collar on.

He’s safer, controlled.

They were right - he can’t do this on his own, and he never could. 

“You can choose whichever room you like, except that I keep Chris’s room for when he stays over just the same, so not that one. But there’s another three bedrooms you can use.” Nat smiles at him, moving to the stairs and gesturing for him to follow.

They creak under his feet, and the house is speaking to him, whispering here, you’re here, you’re here now in bursts of smoke on his tongue and sweet just after. He licks at his lips, looking down at ancient brown carpeting there, almost long enough to be shag.

For just a second, he sees a flicker of a bright red shag carpet in a large shared loft bedroom, a face very like his own but older, laughing as they threw balled up pieces of paper at each other. Sparkling brown eyes-

Gone-

Jameson shivers and the moment is lost, and he lets it go happily. Whatever happened to him, he has too many other problems right now to dwell on something he’s already chosen to leave behind. 

“I’ll take, uh, whichever-... whichever room is closest to the bathroom,” He says, seeing an open door with the telltale tile floor and pale painted walls. She nods, gesturing to a closed door on her left. He pushes open the bathroom door and just stares, for a few long beats. “You have-... dinosaur shower curtains?”

“Oh, Chris loved that,” Nat says, looking over his shoulder briefly. She’s as short as he is, more or less, and somehow her leaning over behind him doesn’t feel quite as unsettling as when Jake Stanton does it, or anyone else.

Shit, maybe they’re all right. Maybe he’ll be safe here… and everyone else will be safe from him.

“I just kept them after he moved out. We can get new ones if they bother you, it’s not a big deal.”

“Uh, no, they’re… they’re fine. I’m going to-... put my stuff down now.” Jameson backs up and she moves away to give him space. The floor creaks softly underfoot as he moves along the hardwood in the hallway, to the closed door of the room he’s chosen sight-unseen.

When he opens it, it’s plain. Just pale walls and two twin beds on opposite sides of the room, side tables with lamps, blankets and pillows. A single framed portrait of a bird on one wall. 

He looks out the window to the branches of a tree outside.

“I’m going to go downstairs and make some coffee. Want me to call for you when it’s ready?” She speaks from the doorway, calm and quiet. He loves her hot chocolate voice.

“Sure. I could… I could use some fucking coffee,” He whispers, without looking back.

“No doubt. We’ll figure this out, Jameson, I promise.” 

Before she can close the door, he asks, all at once in a rush, “What if I do it again?”

She’s quiet, for a minute. Quiet for long enough his heart starts to pound, he starts to wonder if she’ll lock him in the room, or even kick him back out and tell him to start walking and figure it out on his own. He can’t go back - the last time he was on the streets, he got picked up by Robert, the time before that by Brute. His pulse beats against his collar, and he’s safe with the collar, but only if he’s kept by someone who takes care of him, who won’t hurt him worse. “To Jake?”

“Or… or Allyn. Or you, or-... fuck, anybody. What if they-... made me so I’ll do it again?”

More quiet. He hates the quiet. He wants her hot chocolate voice back. He turns, finally, to see her looking him over with a calm that goes so far beyond his own anxiety and fear, a steady surety that makes her seem more like she’s part of the house than someone who simply lives here.

She’s seen a hundred hands, too, learning not to hurt or be hurt. She’s heard a hundred voices learning to speak up, remembering how to do something other than beg for it to stop. Maybe she is the safehouse, and the building is just… an extension.

He can kind of see why the big guy likes her so fucking much.

“We’re going to do everything in our power to give you the tools you need to keep yourself and everyone around you safe.” She smiles at him, a little, lifting the corner of her mouth just the slightest bit on one side. “It won’t be easy. And it won’t be simple, or immediate. But you aren’t irredeemable, Jameson. Even if you fucked up. Does it help if I tell you I’ve had others hit me, or grab at me, when they’re in a panic and forget where they are?”

He breathes, shallow but slow. “R-Really?”

“Yeah. A half-dozen or so. I caught Chris lost in a nightmare once and he cracked me across the face with his forehead so hard I had a bruise for a week. I’ve been kicked, I’ve been hit.” She exhales, not quite a sigh, and steps inside the bedroom, moving over to one of the beds and sitting down, crossing her legs at the ankles and leaning back, resting her weight on her hands. “I ended up in the ER with a concussion once, early on. One of the ones I lost.” She looks away from him, and he sees the wrinkles in her face suddenly settle deeper, as if the weight of that old grief ages her even now. “He didn’t mean to, the poor guy. He was so scared, but I couldn’t-... I couldn’t keep him. He was so scared of himself he went back to his captor. Never saw him again.”

Jameson takes one step towards her, and then another. It’s unconscious, and he tells himself not to, but he can’t help it. “I’m-... I’m sorry for him.”

“Yeah, me too. I hope he’s doing all right, but… I suspect not. It’s… it’s hard, Jameson, to do this, and sometimes the hard feels like it’s never going to end. Sometimes, they think there’s no choice, no other way.” She looks up at him, and he sees the faintest glimmer of tears that don’t show in her voice, don’t fall down her face. “You’re thinking that, too. That maybe you were better off kept.”

The echo of his own thoughts in her low husky voice sends him reeling, and he can’t find his voice to speak at first. Finally, he manages, “Y-yeah.”

“It’s a lie. I understand why it feels like-... it’s inevitable. But I want you to know... I’ve seen this before. And you’re still better off healing than being sent back to shatter. We’re going to help you, and Kauri-... Kauri’s right, I think. You’ll be safer here for a while, and then you’ll go back and be safe there, too.”

“What if I’m not? Safer there?”

Nat Yoder’s smile softens, and she holds out her hands. She must expect him to sit next to her, because she jumps in surprise when he drops to his knees instead, and lays his head on her thighs, across her lap, feeling the rough denim of her blue jeans against his cheek.

Her hands hover, and then slowly she lowers one, and rests it, gently, over his hair. 

“Then you’ll be safe here,” She says, and her voice pours over him, honeyed, deep, the hint of cinnamon and the texture of the thick liquid of his grandmother’s hot chocolate, made always with whole milk and a touch of cream.

Jameson doesn’t question the knowledge of how his grandmother made hot chocolate, and he doesn’t push it away. He just lets it exist, there and then gone a moment later. 

 “For how long?” Her fingers press just slightly against his temple. Her fingertips are slightly roughened, calloused from hard work. “How l-long am I safe here?”

“The same amount of time I give everyone, Jameson,” She says. “As long as you need.”

“But you said-... you don’t take in anyone anymore-”

“I’m making an exception, and I don’t do anything halfway.” She leans over, and he feels her shadow fall over him. He turns his face to press against her leg, feeling the tears start to well, clenching his eyes shut only to have them fall without his consent, to dampen her jeans.

He shudders. “I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt him-... I thought he was Brute, coming b-back, I didn’t know-”

“I know. I know you didn’t. It’s okay.”

“I know I sh-shouldn’t fucking cry-... I’m the ass-asshole who stabbed him, I shouldn’t c-cry about it, I shouldn’t-” He hitches back a sob, feels his collar catch on his Adam’s apple. It’s not enough to keep him safe. It was never enough to keep him safe. 

Her voice washes warm over him, and she runs her hand through his short hair, over the filled-in bald spots shorter than the rest. “You should, if you need to. Go ahead.”

Somehow, once she says he can, he can’t stop himself at all. 

Jameson kneels on the floor in a house that has seen a hundred or more people exactly like him, his body wracked with guilt and horror at what he did, what they made him, and his terror that he can’t ever take it back, that he can’t become anything other than what he was made to be.

And through the tears, she keeps one hand on his head, and when he starts to talk to her, she listens. 

Outside a bird sings, a mourning dove, calling hoo-hoo, hoo, hoo.

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @newandfiguringitout @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whumpiary @endless-whump @burtlederp

#whump #caretaker and whumpee #ptsd tw #collar mention #past pet whump #pet whumpee #recovering whumpee #jameson bb #natalie yoder: here to help the rescues #abuse survivor tw #referenced cycle of abuse #box boy universe #box boy #bbu

[fivescoffeemug]

milk coffee. (Five Hargreeves x Reader) (part 2)

Summary : you got too broke to pay for rent so you crash at Five’s.

Warnings : none

Words : 2,137

A/N : please please tell me (thru dm or ask box) if you want to be in this taglist, because I’m making more parts and this is seriously flopping :(

(Just to be clear, the story takes place on 2nd April 2019 assuming they got back to the umbrella academy and not the sparrow academy because fuck the cliffhanger)

taglist : @eyelash-curler

part 1 | part 2

“Have you got the money?”

“Sorry?”

“The rent.”

“I—I ... I don’t—I don’t have it yet.”

“Sorry but you’ve been here for three free weeks.”

“Miss, please, please just give me another week I swear my book’s just—”

“Get out.”

“Miss just—”

“I’m going broke too and I need the money! But since you’re broke too one of us has to have money right? Now go back up and pack your shit.”

“I’ll be homeless.”

“I’m giving you till five.”

Five. It hit you like a swing of a sledgehammer to the back of your head.

No, you thought. That would be so pathetic.

But what other choice did you have?

You rushed up the stairs, grabbing your phone and finding the word ‘Five’ in your contacts. You pressed on it, calling it immediately.

At the fifth ring, he finally picked up.

“What?” He hissed.

“Wow, you sound overjoyed to hear from me,” You rolled your eyes, soon realizing now was not the time for the petty insults.

“Mhmm,” He hummed, seeming busy with something else. “What do you want?”

This wasn’t the first time you called Five since you met him, probably about the third, the other two times were just because you were bored.

It had just come to you that he always seems so uninterested in your company whenever you began conversations, but he would come around soon enough. You both wouldn’t stop at the scornful insults though.

“Can I ... crash at your place?” You struggled to say, biting your lip and closing your eyes right after.

“You were already crazy enough to even want to keep in touch but this just breaks the mental asylum records by a landslide,” Five comments. “What next, you’re gonna come up and tell me you have powers or something?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his remarks. You always told yourself, ‘damn I hate it when he does that,’ but you always knew that was a lie.

“Well? This is a joke to just keep me listening, right?” Five asked. “What do you really want, Y/N?”

“Sorry to disappoint you today mister masochist, but it turns out that I do infact need a place to crash,” You repeated, hoping you wouldn’t have to explain.

But of course, that’s if you lived in world where everyone was a naive nobody.

“What’s wrong with your place?”

“I’m fucking broke, alright?” You blurted in frustration. “I’m not from here. I’ve got no one else. I had to pay the landlady from the money I could scrape out of my pants pockets and I thought my book would sell by now, but I guess I was getting ahead of myself.”

You could feel Five huffing in a slight chuckle.

“Not from here, so no family or friends to turn to for shelter ... oh helpless, helpless Y/N ... ” He narrated, clearly amused at your desperate situation.

“Well?”

“It would really be amusing to see you on the streets, wouldn’t it?”

“For you, definitely.”

There was silence for a while.

“You know what, fine. I’m not as cruel as you think I am.”

“The fact that you had to point that out means you probably are,” At this point, talking to Five always just triggered the instinct of throwing any insult you could at him.

“You wanna sleep on the streets?”

“No.”

“Then shut up and start packing.”

“Not even your address?”

“I’ll text you.”

“Okay, bye.”

And with that, he hung up, and you threw your phone on the bed and began packing.

...

When you turned up at the place, you thought you read the address wrong, you read it over at least seven times now. You looked up at the tall building. It was a mansion.

It made you wonder if Five really was just some regularly school boy.

You got to the front door, knocking at the wood. You found yourself admiring the patterns on it for a short while before the door finally opened.

“Can I help you?” A taller black woman with frizzy hair asked as you found youself puzzled.

“I—well, I’m ... ” You couldn’t find the words to say. You couldn’t say you were here to see Five because if anything you just needed a place to stay. “I just ... I wanted to see Five.”

“Five!” The woman calls. “Some girl is here for you!”

You heard the faint sound of some footsteps walking rather hastily down the stairs, finally seeing Five in the distance coming closer now.

“I was expecting someone, come in,” he said monotonously, barely making any eye contact with you.

You tugged your small luggage inside the building after you and got a good look at the foyer. There was a large chandelier hanging from the ceiling and the entire place just seemed so grand, giving off the 1990’s vibe but if they were dirty rich.

“F-Five how old are you?”

“Well ... ” his head slowly leaned to the side as he squinted in thought. “It’s complicated.”

“How is that complicated?”

“Okay if I said I was like twenty two would that satisfy you?”

“Well if that’s a lie then obviously not,” You follow him as he began walking up the stairs, dragging along your burden of a luggage.

“Then I guess you’ll just have to be unsatisfied for a while,” He turns to a corridor and you finally meet his plain room.

The walls reminded you of his eyes, the ones you fell for the time you met him. You had to admit, those were a true beauty.

Too bad its owner’s a real pain in the ass, you thought, smirking to yourself.

“What are you waiting for?”

“Do you guys just not have a spare room in this big-ass mansion?”

Five’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at the ground. “Well, not one I’d want you to use.”

“Why not?”

“My dad’s. He’s dead.”

“Oh ... I—”

“Nope, don’t apologize,” Five shook his head. “Just put down your stuff. Crashing here is the best option you’ve got anyway, I’ll get an air mattress.”

You watch as Five exits the room, another stranger standing by the door, looking surprised and confused at the same time.

“Why?”

“Nothing I just ... I’ve never seen him so ... kind,” he finishes, soon entering the room. “Sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met. Klaus.”

“Y/N,” You shake the hand he held up, soon letting go as Five reappears again, seemingly glaring at Klaus before he left.

“Who are the other people in your house?” You ask before Five could start inflating the mattress.

“Does it matter?” He asks back, seeming to have no intention of letting you know about what was going on.

“Well, you’ll have to make some sense out of this,” You huffed, still slightly confused as to how peculiar Five has been. “If you’re not going to tell me then at least give me your age.”

Five grabs an air-pump and starts inflating the mattress, clearly ignoring your plea. You offer your help, and he let you but after discovering how incredibly slow you were going, he took back the pump and resumed doing it himself.

“Do you like reading books? I wrote one.”

“I really wished I had said ‘I don’t remember asking’, but unfortunately for me, I wanna know how the hell you ended up alone penniless where you don’t belong,” Five finished pumping air into the mattress, which you immediately say on after he left to put the pump back.

“Well?” His eyebrow raised, then returned.

“I was an orphan my whole life, it was abusive and I’ve had enough,” You huffed, frowning up at him. “That’s all I feel like saying.”

“An orphan ... when’s your birthday?”

“Tell me your age and I’ll tell you my birthday.”

Five looked to the side, biting his lip. He nodded, looking at the ground.

“How old do I look to you?” He cocked his head up as your eyes met yet again.

“Like ... eighteen?”

“There you have it.”

“I got it right?”

“Yes now it’s getting late and we’re going out to get dinner soon. You coming?”

“I don’t have any money left.”

“Five, let’s go,” A man appears at Five’s door, soon noticing your presence. “Who’s the girl?”

“Homeless person I decided to help,” Five replied coldly. “Poor Y/N doesn’t have the money for dinner too.”

“I’m not—”

“Y/N?” One of his eyebrows were raised, now facing you. “Don’t take the bitch too seriously he’s always like this.”

“I suggest you do the same for him, sadly Diego doesn’t have any spare braincells left, he shares one with our gorilla brother,” Five reviled, Diego turning back to glare at Five.

“I think I’ll skip dinner; I don’t want to bother the four of you about it.”

“The fou—Five! Does she not know about ...?”

“Do you really think I’d willingly embarrass myself by introducing the rest of our braindead siblings to her?” Five rolled his eyes.

“Up your ass, Five,” Diego digressed, soon smiling at you as he turned to face you again. “There’s actually seven—no six of us here. One of us died.”

“Your dad, right?”

“I—well n-no, he’s not really part of the picture ... ”

“My dad had seven of us. One of us died. That’s the end of it,” Five concluded, or at least tried to.

“My name’s Diego, that’s Five, and the tall black woman’s Allison, the short one’s Vanya, the bigger looking guy is Luther and the high one is Klaus.”

“Didn’t Klaus quit drugs?”

“Well, I don’t know. Drugs or no drugs he always kinda seemed high to me,” Diego shrugged.

...

After Five treated you to dinner, you washed up and Vanya let you use her pajamas for the night. Five got you an extra blanket and pillow too.

In the middle of the night, you had a nightmare. Your neck and face was sweaty and you were panting heavily. Five woke up to his room shaking, a few small things falling off the side of his table. He glanced down at you, trying to shake you awake.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

“No ... please ... I can e-explain ... ”

“Y/N you’re dreaming! Wake up!” Five fell off his bed as the shaking got worse, and ended up on top of you.

“Ow!” You jolted awake and the room’s rumbling had finally stopped.

He scrambled to the edge of the mattress, clutching the sides of your shoulders as concern had smeared his face.

“Y/N are you okay?”

Your face was already stained with tears when you woke up, but you couldn’t help damping your face again as you bury it in your hands, sobbing.

“Y/N ... talk to me.”

“No!” You cried, lowering your head to the mattress. It was a horrible nightmare. “I ... I don’t want to.”

“Y/N ... Y/N ... listen to me. Please, look at me.”

When you heard this, you stopped, as he asked. But it was only because you couldn’t believe what he was saying, or at least, the tone he was saying it in.

His eyebrows arched upwards as your eyes met once more. Those calm, sea blue eyes told wonders to you without saying anything at all. It made you calmer.

“You were dreaming. It was just a nightmare, it’s okay. You’re okay. Do you hear me?”

You felt his hand on yours. It wasn’t so obvious, though, because it was just the tip of his fingers touching yours.

But somehow, you still felt the tears rolling down your cheek.

“I’m ... I’m so sorry, Five,” you started tearing up again.

“Here.”

He held out his arms slightly, and you gladly wrapped your arms around his neck, your back now warm from his touch too. You buried your face in between his neck and your arm, while he places his chin on your shoulder.

You felt him inhale and exhale, and somehow the feeling of his chest, his shoulders rising, it made you feel okay. It made you feel at home.

“Are you okay now ‘cause I’d really like to go back to sleep,” five broke the silence after several seconds of feeling each others’ warmth.

You nod, pulling away from the hug. “It’s okay if you say no, but I ... I really don’t want to sleep alone. I mean, on this mattress. It’s so big, it feels so lonely.”

Five blinked for a few seconds before nodding, standing up to grab his pillow and blanket.

“I’ll face the other way,” He said, pullling his blanket over him as he laid beside you. “But I’m here. Just remember that.”

You nod, resting your head on your own pillow, feeling yourself ease back into the drowsy feeling of sleep.

“Actually, Y/N ... how did you make the room vibrate?”

#tua five #tua #tua2 #tua s2 #five x reader #number five x reader #number five x y/n #five x y/n #tua five x y/n #five fanfic #number five fanfiction #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves x y/n #five x you #tua five x you #five hargreeves

[ktrsss1fics]

Cake By The Ocean: Eight.

If you were to ask Georgina Ferguson what her last full day in Mykonos would consist of, never in a million years would she say a day at the beach with her boyfriend followed by a night on the town with her closest friends. As the bars began to close, the gang made their way back home. Mags and Jenna held hands and gossiped. Jamie, Keith, and Niall were singing some song from the early 2000s. Georgina trailed behind everyone reminiscing about her time in Greece.  She was drunk off sangria and the smell of a certain Irishman’s cologne. This trip was exactly what she needed. Her heart was happy and her love meter was full. 

“Ferg, wait until we’re home to undress the poor boy.” Dave said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. 

“Heart wants what it wants, David.” Georgina smiled as she took her eyes off her boyfriend.

“He truly thinks the world of you.” Dave said. 

“Assss he should.” Brittany slurred as she slipped her hand into Georgina’s. 

A moment of silence passed between the trio. It wasn’t very long until the house they were staying in came into view. Georgina gave her best friend’s hand a squeeze as the rest of their friends filed inside. 

“You two should come over for dinner when we get home.” Brittany said. “It’ll be like old times.”

“But now we know they’re shaggin’.” Dave teased. 

“The kids are in love. Leave ‘em alone.” Britt said. 

“Doesn’t take away from the fact that she’s probably sat on his face by now.” Dave said smugly. 

“David!” Brittany and Georgina groaned  in unison.

The gentle giant placed a quick kiss on the top of Georgina’s head. “Only taking the piss, babes.”

“We’ve talked about this, what she does in the bedroom is-is-is her business.” Brittany said. 

“You birds take everything so seriously.” Her boyfriend sighed. 

“Oi, what are they on about, Davey?” Niall asked from inside the house.

“Nialler, settle a bet for me—“ Dave started to say before Georgina cut him off. 

“We aren’t in neutral territory anymore.” She said stepping inside. “Use your indoor voice.”

Marco, Ashlee, and Mar had declined the invitation to go out with everyone. No one understood why but they were not fond of the Terrible Threesome. Everyone was counting down the days until they said goodbye to them for good. 

Dave kissed her head once more before peeling away from her side. “Yes, Mum.”

“I’ll have a talk with him when we are alone.” Brittany said to her best friend as her boyfriend walked away. 

“He’s only doin’ it to push me buttons.” Ferg sighed. 

“Y’alright baby?” Brittany asked. 

“It’s probably because I’m drunk but I really don’t want to go home.” Georgina said. “It’s just going to be work and deadlines and I’m not gonna see everyone as much as I’d like.”

“I don’t know if you agree with me but this — as crazy as it sounds — has been the best trip we’ve been on and like I just don’t want things to change. You know?”

“It definitely has been one for the record books.” Brittany said grabbing onto Georgina’s other hand. “But you know you aren’t in this alone, right?”

“Yeah—“ Georgina said but Brittany shook her head. 

Britt looked up at her best friend. “We’ve all decided that we’ve got you. You aren’t in this alone anymore. We all talked and we aren’t letting any outside influences mess this up because—“

“He’s The Baby.” Georgina blushed. 

“And you’re you.” Britt smiled.

“Yeah but—“

“Oh fuck off Georgie.” Britt rolled her eyes. “They love you more than they love him most days.”

Georgina could feel her cheeks grow warm. Her friends truly meant the world to her and knowing they were fully supportive of her relationship with Niall meant everything. She truly didn’t know what she would do without them. 

“Fergithica and Brittania we need you over here. ASAP!!” Jenna shouted from the living room. 

“Where my bitches at?” Mags said through a microphone. 

“Oh god.” Britt said with her eyes closed. 

“I thought we hid the mic.” Georgina said wide-eyed. 

“Who the fuck gave her a mic?” Jamie cackled from the kitchen. 

Georgina and Brittany made their way into the living room while the rest of the boys joined them. Standing center stage were the drunkest members of the Hen House. 

“We wanna do karaoke!” Jenna said leaning against Margaret. 

“You lot can’t sing while sober.” Keith said taking a seat beside Georgina on the couch. “Who says you can in the state you’re in.”

“We have a thing called talent, Miller.” Mags slurred into the mic. “Might wanna look it up babes.”

“Yeah, as much talent as two cats in heat.” Keith mumbled making Georgina laugh. 

“Also, stating this now, Niall Horan is not allowed to sing.” Mags said pointing to the brown haired man. 

Niall threw his hands up in defense. “Whatever you want, babes.”

“Who wants to be the DJ?” Jenna asked, scanning the crowd that had formed. 

“What song you ruinin’ first?” Dave asked as he pulled out his phone. 

“Hmm… ‘Chandelier’ by Sia.” Jenna said causing the room to erupt into laughter. 

“Oh fuck right off you dicks.” Mags glared. 

As David cued up the music on the television, Jamie carefully walked in the room with a tray of drinks. 

“We are gonna need these.” Jamie said as his girlfriend got ready to sing her drunken heart out.  

The two women cleared their throats. Niall took this as a sign to make his way towards the couch. Not only did he want a front row seat to the show about to be performed but he wanted to be closer to the woman he loved. 

The Irishman had tried his best to keep his hands to himself when they were out in public. He didn’t know how comfortable Georgina was with showing any display of affection in front of their friends. He had made her keep their relationship a secret for months. The last thing he wanted to do was make her uncomfortable by forcing too much affection too soon. 

Although he tried to keep his distance, the alcohol in his system and the way Georgina looked had his mind racing. He couldn’t wait until they were alone later. Niall leaned back in his seat before resting a hand on Georgina’s leg. This was exactly how he wanted to end their trip.

“This one is specifically dedicated to Keith Reginald Miller.” Mags said with a wink. “My biggest fan.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “You wanker.”

“Woo! That’s my baby.” Jamie cheered as he took a seat on the floor.

The next couple hours were filled with goblets of sangria and very poor renditions of some of the greatest songs ever created. From Robbie Williams to Lionel Richie,  Fergie and the gang sang their heart's out in the middle of that Grecian villa. 

While Jamie and Davey belted out a Bob Seger banger, Niall decided they needed food to sop up some of the liquor they had consumed. The Irishman made his way into the kitchen to see what he could come up with. Naturally, Georgina followed in suit.

The pair decided on grilled cheese sandwiches. They hoped the bread would bring everyone down a notch. Fortunately, their flights were in the evening so they had time to sleep off the hangover that was sure to take form once everyone headed to bed.

“Britt wants us to come over for dinner when we get back.” Georgina said as she pulled a piece of cheddar cheese away from the paper packaging.

“Just us four?” Niall asked, pressing a spatula into a slice of bread making it sizzle in the pan.

“Just like the good ol’ days.” She said with a nod.

“That’ll be brilliant.” Niall smiled as he looked up at her.

The kitchen grew quiet as the couple worked in peace. Their system had become second nature. Niall was in charge of grilling while Georgina took take care of all the prep work. A pile of sandwiches started to take form on the plate within minutes. It was just further proof that they were in fact a good team.

“Babe, are you sure we---” Niall said, flipping over one last sandwich.

“We’re gonna be good.” Georgina said reassuring him. “I promise.”

“I love you.” He smiled. “Like a lot.”

Georgina leaned against the counter. “I love you too.”

Once the last sandwich was finished, Niall walked over to where his girlfriend was standing. He rested his hands on the counter beside her. He leaned in close. 

“Just so we are both aware, I’m fucking you as soon as that door closes tonight.” He said softly. 

Georgina’s face lit up at the husky tone of his voice. 

“You can’t just look like an absolute goddess and get away with it.” Niall winked.

“Unacceptable, right?” She whispered as he pressed up against her. 

“Completely.” He said.

“Am I going to be punished?” She smirked. 

“Fuck, Georgina!” He said squeezing his eyes shit. “Please don’t give me a hard on in front of our friends.”

Georgina giggled. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Niall rolled his eyes making her laugh more. Without thinking, Georgina grabbed his chin and placed a very deep kiss on his lips. Niall’s heart wanted to explode. All he had wanted to do that night was kiss her. Now that he finally had the opportunity to he wasn’t going to stop. A slow and steamy make out session began. 

What the young couple didn’t know was that their every move was being recorded from the doorway of the kitchen by a very despicable human being. Every kiss that was shared in that kitchen was strung together in a short video that could ruin them. 

Marlene truly was the worst person on the planet. 

With a smug look on her face, the young American stopped the video. She turned slowly but slammed right into the chest of a very angry looking man. 

“Delete it.” He said. 

“I-I-I- don’t know what you’re talking about.” She stuttered nervously. 

“Delete the video.”

“I don’t kn—“ She started to say as she attempted to get away. He wouldn’t let her past. 

“Delete the video or I will ruin your life.” He stated.

#one direction fanfiction #niall horan fanfiction #cbto #1dff #fergie and niall

[mutt-stuff-archives]

Big Fun🍻Academy AU! OCs🍻Headcannons

A collective group of headcannons for me and my friend’s OCs! Feel free to skip if you truly don’t want to read about OCs, though it would be much appreciated if you did read through and give it a note!

Idea based off of: Big Fun! From Heathers: The Musical

Taglist / Characters:

Akira Akiyama-Shinazugawa — My OC / @mutt-stuff​

Eto Katsugurui  — @pigassaulty​

Kaguya  — @allieturs​

Uso Kinugasa  — @cafe-cxsmoetics​

Rin Honoyama — @chickynn​

Ayana Imae  — @lostchildonaboat​

Hana Fujiwara — @pandabobachan​

༄It was just after Spring Break when Sanemi took a ‘vacation’ off. In reality, he had been suspended for 2 days when Ubuyashiki had found out he Super Mario brother thrown a student out the window due to them saying math was unneeded. That student being Rin of course. He decided then that he will also get a break from his siblings, leaving them home while he went to see the family friend, Masachika, at his own home.

༄It also happened to be around the time when Sanemi crashed Akira’s basketball game just to grab her in the middle of a crowded court and haul her out by her ear because she was failing math miserably.

༄So she was a teensy bit irritated. Just a bit.

༄So why not get back at him while also hosting an epic party?

༄At first she had only invited her friends over, but the rumor spread (Thanks, Rin and Eto) and eventually a whole lot more than ten or fifteen people had shown their face.

༄Eto, once learning the rumor, is going to spread it to each class she teaches, no matter who they are. The biggest geek? She’s getting them to come. The buffest jock? Oh, he’s definitely coming if there’s enough alcohol.

༄This madlad teacher drives all her favorite students to the Shinazugawa house. We love her.

༄When everyone had arrived, it’s already chaos.

༄Music blasting, teens sipping out of classically red cups and all over the yard, it was a wonder how the neighbors hadn’t called the police.

༄Who slipped the innocent Hana a beer? Her and Inosuke had taken up whatever dancing space was given inside the living room. Hopping on one foot to the next, twirling and spinning happily (though sloppily, as the alcohol had definitely gotten to her system); she seems to enjoy the act of dancing with her favorite person.

༄Ayana seemed oh-so-terrified. She had only come because Akira had asked her. Akira was a bit scary; especially since she was a Shinazugawa. But she was also Ayana’s friend and the girl didn’t want to refuse her friends. Huddled on the couch, her hands were clasped tightly against a cup of juice Akira had gotten especially for her, she seemed almost disassociated. 

༄Thankfully Uso was there next to her. Fixing her sunglasses occasionally and huddling her hood up on her face a bit more whenever people squinted at her, she tried her hardest to stay incognito. She had only come because Ayana had. Phone in hand, she recorded and took pictures of everything just in case they needed a little push in an agreement. She also secretly hoped to see Genya, but he didn’t seem to be anywhere at the moment.

༄Eto happily chatted away with her students like usual, though the brown tinted bottle of beer in her hand and the shots competition she had with Akira and Rin was definitely different from the usual. She eventually got Giyuu (who she made come) to dance with her for a bit, thought it didn’t last long, as she heard Akira was breaking things and it sounded like loads of fun.

༄Rin. Oh that poor little thing. She seemed to be drunk off her ass. She failed to drag Zenitsu to the party, which hurt her for just a while until the vodka and redbull hit her system and she went full feral mode. Practically climbing the walls, she was trying her best at getting up to hang on the chandelier, but not before dancing like an actual monkey with Inosuke and Hana while proceeding to spill whatever drink she had onto the living room rug.

༄Kaguya had for some reason reared her head and came to the party? Akira was quite fond of the whitette actually, inviting her to the party. She seemed to have stolen almost all the alcohol though, stuffing whatever bottle she can find into whatever pocket fitted it most. Around the party she went, giving an almost creepily straight face to each kid as she told them bluntly honest insults or statements.

༄Akira, who seemed almost black out drunk at this point, had broken a lamp and shattered a bottle of vodka on the ground already. The kids that had once called her Hannya-san as she walked down the halls and shrunk away from her during partner projects were now enjoying her company, which only fueled her. 

༄There Akira was, standing on the upstairs balcony’s railing. Rin stood below, the small girl putting her arms out in hopes to catch her taller friend when she fell to the living room floor and therefore impress Akira’s crush, Kanao. Instead, she promptly fell into the pool table, breaking it.

༄Was that THE Kyoujurou Rengoku; the best history teacher in, well, history? Was he... Throwing students around like what he does in Classroom Calvary Battles? And the art teacher who likes to throw dynamite around like candy; Tengen Uzui?

༄Turns out it really was a bad time for a party. The kids outside had time to scatter, yet the teens inside had no clue, as a familiar car parked messily and quickly into the parking space. By the time the white hair of Sanemi poked out when he practically threw himself out, kids had already left, leaving the others inside.

༄Like rats, even the teens inside had scattered at the mention of the upcoming shitstorm. Except for the group (Besides the keener Eto, Ayana and Uso), who didn’t seem to get the memo.

༄”WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS CRAP?”

༄As Akira stumbled over to her brother, reaching out to grab him and tell him excuse after excuse, a screech came from above. Down came Rin from the chandelier she had managed to hang onto for five minutes, landing square onto Sanemi. Both of them crumpled and Rin once again screeched in victory, taking Hana and Inosuke’s hand and rushing away before Sanemi could recover.

༄The house was left a total mess, seeming more chaotic when everyone had left.

༄Rin and Kaguya seemed to have drank all the alcohol and spirits Sanemi had previously thought he had kept well hidden.

༄Akira, as Eto cheered her on, had broken almost half the house. The kitchen sink was left dented by Akira’s now broken wrist, the pool table practically split in half, a hole punched through the wall.

༄Lady Tamayo, to no surprise, had come to pick her lover up. All throughout her taking the woman’s hand and tugging her out, Kaguya smiled lovingly up at her girlfriend, saying this and that about how she was the only person in the world that was worthy of existing.

༄Sanemi was going to launch-throw Akira into her room if it wasn’t for her now broken wrist and aching back, in the end he led her into her room and only threw the door closed.

༄Let’s just say that the school seemed a bit more ghastly due to next day hangovers. Sanemi screaming down the hallways didn’t help much either.

༄Later, Sanemi had found Genya locked in his room, seeming a bit terrified. He didn’t want to be caught in that mess.

#KNY #kny oc #kny x oc #oc #fanfic #kny fanfic #demon slayer #demonslayer #demon slayer oc #demon slayer hc #headcannons #hcs #hc #oc hc #amazing panda #little chick #chaos ocs #dear lostchild #chaos sharkie #mother allie #kimentsu academy #kny au #demon slayer au

[justasparkwritings]

Codename Cupid: Chapter 8

Previous: Another Shot At Love Pt. 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi X OFC, Park Jimin X OMC

Genre: Secret AgentAU, AgentAU, Government Agent AU, Slice of Life

Rating: NC17

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Swearing, Legal Alcohol Consumption, Degradation, Humiliation, Verbal Abuse, Horrible Family, Bullying, Sibling Rivalries, Homophobia, Toxic Masculinity

Summary: Codename Suga joins Codename Cupid at her parents house for family dinner. It’s both everything he imagined, and so much worse. 

Codename Another Shot at Love Part 3

Fall Post Graduation

           Park Yoongi, Codename Suga, arrived at the Lee residence dressed to the nines, a new suit, top of the line glasses and Ferragamo loafers that Hoseok had picked out especially for him. Nothing about his look screamed mid-level employee at a top-level bank, or government agent bent on destroying a company from within, which was the point. Namjoon had determined that to impress the Lee’s, Codename Valentine, Suga had to be runway ready. His hair was slicked back, and in his arms, a bottle of Makers 46, a bottle Cupid had ensured her father would appreciate. In his ear, a flesh-colored earpiece, specially designed, allowing his teammates, Codenames RM, Worldwide Handsome and J-Hope, to feed him lines when needed.

          Adjusting his spectacles and turning them on, Suga’s vision was momentarily blocked as the sensors began their job scanning everything and everyone insight, transmitting data in real time to his set up at OT7 headquarters. The glasses, a creation he had spent the better part of a year working on, were a modification of his third-generation specs. Not only could they recognize faces, scan for heat sensors, but log sounds such as alarm codes and lock patterns, decoding their passcodes in seconds. This was a marked improvement from the generation twos, which recorded sound and took up to 24 hours to decode. The recorded surveillance was wired through the major databases used by OT7 to track down faces of everyone Suga came in contact with. Tonight, their goal was to memorize every aspect of the Lee’s estate, transmit the layout into a CAD (computer aided design) drawing and print a scaled blueprint. They were also responsible for identifying every human in the Lee’s house, pulling names, birthdays, permanent addresses and social security numbers. In his glasses case, Suga had placed several microscopic microphones, which he placed on any surface he touched. They might not have eyes inside the mansion, but OT7 would have ears.

          “Park Yoongi,” The attendant declared as he stepped through the foyer and into the sitting room, where the entire Lee, Codename Valentine, family sat waiting for him.

          “Good evening,” Yoongi bowed deeply, a remnant of his heritage and a sign of respect.

          “Yoongi!” Euna said, standing and quickly wrapping her arms around his neck. Leaning in, she placed a delicate kiss on his cheek. “Mom, dad, this is Yoongi, my boyfriend.”

          Mr. Lee rose, looked Yoongi up and down before he spoke, “I hear you work for us. Good.”

          “Yes, sir, I do,” Yoongi nodded.

          “Your work is good, you fly under the radar, if you’re to continue this with Euna, you will need to do better,” Mr. Lee extended his hand, shaking Yoongi’s, before moving past him.

          “Sir, I brought you a gift, I heard it’s one of your favorites,” Yoongi handed the man the bottle and watched as he unwrapped it. His oafish hands tore through the tissue paper, impatient to get his hands on something he didn’t buy but eagerly wanted.

          “Ahh, a bribe, thoughtful,” Mr. Lee said before handing the bottle to the head of house, who had quietly walked into the room. She took it and carefully moved to place it on the shelf which housed an impressive collection of whiskey.

          Mrs. Lee looked at her cohort of older children. “Don’t be rude.”

          The three children rose and walked towards Yoongi. Towering over him, Dae-Seong and Jun-Seo glared down at him, a sinister smirk on both their faces.

          “Dae-Seong,” He said, squeezing Yoongi’s hand harder than necessary.

          “Jun-Seo,” He repeated the action, his hold lighter, his smirk faded into a thin line, laced with more concern than Yoongi imagined Dae-Seong could ever muster.

          “Yoongi,” Kwan-Min bowed before extending her hand, “Kwan-Min.” Her smile mirrored Euna’s, gentle and vibrant. Her eyes told the same story as her brothers, watch your back.

          “Nice to meet you,” Yoongi responded. Carefully taking a seat next to Euna, he smiled tersely at the family.

          “Yoongi, tell us about yourself,” Mrs. Lee requested. She slowly clinked the perfectly shaped sphere of ice in her glass, it slowly melting into the brown liquid.

          “Is there anything specific you want to know?” He responds politely.

          “Your file is thin, you don’t seem to want to advance at Lee Enterprises, so how’d you end up here?” Dae-Seong doesn’t mince words. Much like the booming timbre of his voice, his words cut straight to the point.

          “I worked in the Manhattan branch every summer of college, had two internships my junior and senior year, and then applied for an entry level position,” Yoongi could hear Namjoon, Codename RM, in his ear, repeating the fabricated story made ever more real by Hoseok’s ability to forge documents.

          “They moved you out here?” Mr. Lee questioned.

          “Yes, they asked if I would transfer,” Yoongi replied.

          “Why?” Dae-Seong was perplexed, no new hire was asked to transfer unless they were a problem worth handling.

  ��       “They said I was polished, and my work was good,” Yoongi shrugged. WWH reminded him to lean into the nonchalance, the ultimate fuck-you attitude the Lee’s hated.

          “Seems vague,” Jun-Seo remarked. “Your childhood was rather bleak, wasn’t it?”

          “It wasn’t the best, but it was temporary,” Yoongi knew this was the line of questioning they’d take, and not just with him, with anyone not from the upper echelon, anyone not worth less than 100 million.

          “Your parents were, sorry, are, quite poor,” Dae-Seong pressed.

          “Poor to some is rich to others,” Yoongi answered.

          “But poor is still, poor,” Jun-Seo responded.

          “You haven’t dated much, either have you Yoongi?” Kwan-Min’s voice was velvet, soft and supple in the tense air.

          “I’ve had a few relationships, but none like Euna,” Mr. World Wide’s voice was clear and gentle, sell it Suga.

          “What makes her so different? Clearly you see things that we don’t,” Dae-Seong snorted back a laugh, it was a hideous sound, loud and haunting.

          “I see a lot of things in Euna. She’s thoughtful, considerate, she’s caring and funny. She accepts me for who I am, and makes me a better person,” Yoongi laid on the compliments like he hadn’t spent the last two weeks rehearsing them for OT7.

          It had taken him a while to list the characteristics he liked about Cupid, and ultimately had recruited WWH to write it for him. He stared at the words Mr. Handsome wrote, and was shocked that he still cared this much about her. Yoongi felt none of these things, none of these adjectives or memories that Mr. Handsome had strewn together resonated with him in the slightest. Cupid was a mark, a pawn in the play, nothing more.

          “Huh, lucky someone does,” Jun-Seo laughed, ribbing Dae-Seong and leading him in a cackle all their own. Yoongi glanced at Euna to see her jaw set, cheeks flushed, eyes glossed.

          “Jun-Seo, you have a guest,” The attendant from the front door announced, standing taught at the door. A blond-haired man entered, smirking with a hint of humor. Yoongi stared at his dazzling smile and kind eyes.  

          “You made it!” Jun-Seo stood to engulf the man in a hug, lips pressing aggressively to his lips. “I thought you said you were busy.”

          “I got away,” The blond responded.

          “It’s lovely to see you,” Mrs. Lee stood to embrace the man, followed by Kwan-Min. Yoongi watched carefully as Dae-Seong and Mr. Lee scowled, arms crossed, brows set. They didn’t have to speak their distaste for Jun-Seo’s apparent partner, it was written in their body language.

          “It’s lovely to see you too,” He said. His eyes didn’t glance at the elder males but landed squarely on Yoongi and Euna.

          “Lee Euna, is that how you greet me?” He questioned, a hand resting on his hip, hair lightly falling in his eyes.

          “I’m so happy to see you!” She bounded off the settee towards him, arms around his neck, holding him close. “I didn’t think I’d get to see you before the big trip!”

          Yoongi stared, dumbfounded, and blinked quickly, trying to understand the rapid change in her demeanor. Gone were the tears, the anger, the hate that was coursing through her body. It was replaced with care? Genuine excitement? What the hell is the big trip?

          “I had to get in one more family dinner before I’m gone for the month,” The blond smiled warmly at Euna, a twinkle in his eye as he glanced at Yoongi. “Is that?”

          “Oh! This is my boyfriend, Park Yoongi. Yoongi, meet Jun-Seo’s partner, Cho Jimin,” Euna said. The two men exchanged a handshake before sitting down next to their respective partners.

          “How long have you and Jun-Seo been together?” Yoongi inquired.

          “Hm, a year?” Jun-Seo replied, a hand resting gently on Jimin’s thigh.

          “Did you meet at work or-

          “Twenty questions with the twinks! Line em up, it’s time to play!” Dae-Seong yelled, earning a chuckle from his father. “First question, who tops and who bottoms? Follow up, is Jun-Seo as weak of a top as he-

          “Dinner is ready,” The head of house said, stepping into the room just in time. Rolling his eyes, Dae-Seong stood.

          “You’re gonna need your strength,” He winked at Jimin before brushing past them and heading for the dining room. Yoongi followed obediently and cautiously, taking his time putting one foot in front of the other as he followed the Lee’s. Pausing every so often, he carefully trailed a finger over a surface, leaving a singular mic, completely invisible, behind.

          The dining room was stunning, taken out of the palace of Versailles with a Korean twist, the marble floors and ornate chandeliers were out of this world. Flowers blooming in ancient vases, artwork that looked to be that of Picasso and An Kyŏn, Monet and Manet, lining the walls like the Louvre. There wasn’t anything the Lee’s money couldn’t buy, even 15th century originals were bound to become fodder in their quest for prestige.

          Draped across the table, a gold runner, glittering with what could only be described as actual gold flakes. Waterford Crystal glasses, and hand painted china rested delicately against the gold, the white shining brilliantly under the lights of the chandelier. Awaiting the guests, an endless array of traditional Korean food: Jjajangmyeon, Bulgogi, Samgyetang, Kalguksu, Galbi, Dubu Kimchi, Kimchi Fried Rice, with bowls of Hobakjuk as everyone’s appetizers, and Gyeranjjim waiting on a refined plate to be consumed with each passing spice.

          Yoongi’s eyes were wide, his lungs breathing rapidly to take in the scents of home, of familiarity. How peculiar to be eating the cuisine of his ancestors, of his blood, in a room with people who would willing spill each other’s.

          “Yoongi, sit next to Dae-Seong.” Mr. Lee instructed.

          Excellent, Namjoon muttered in his ear.

          “Dae-Seong, I hear that you’re making quite a splash as the Chairman,” Yoongi voiced.

          “Only bottom feeders eat my ass, Yoongi. For that you need to see Jun-Seo, appointment only,” Dae-Seong rolled his eyes.

          “Please, do not speak of your brother’s depravity at dinner. Save it for dessert,” Mr. Lee scolded, eyes hard on Dae-Seong.

          “When are we going to discuss Kwan-Min’s latest triste?” Jun-Seo inquired.

          “Now seems like the perfect opportunity,” Mr. Lee answered. “Dae-Seong?”

          In some sort of twisted ritual, Dae-Seong cracked his knuckles, then his neck, swirled a sip of whiskey between his lips and leaned in. Batting his eyes delicately at Kwan, he bared his teeth. Yoongi restrained from asking “you getting this?” to his team, because they were in fact, watching with bated breath.

          “The category is, colossal fuck ups. The reining champ, for the first time in, Euna, how old are you? Never mind, age has no number when you’re a twat. Kwan-Min, for a million dollars, explain how you found yourself cunt up with a political fundraiser? I’m sorry, a Republican political fundraiser?”

          Mrs. Lee gasped, her soup spoon dropping aggressively into her bowl, rattling the china. Euna didn’t look up, but quietly shoveled soup into her mouth, feigning ignorance.

          “Kwan-Min, how could you?” Mrs. Lee demanded.

          “If the rumors are true, and we’ll need Jun to confirm, Mr. Brady, I believe?” Dae-Seong inhales, eyes never leaving Kwan’s, voice even, “He’s particularly gifted in a few areas, and very well endowed and what was that other word? Oh yes, generous.”

          “Quite a generous tongue on that one,” Jun responded, shame flickering past his eyes in a brief moment before his resolve solidified.

          “How could you?” Mrs. Lee repeats again. “You are the second eldest of this family, the face of our philanthropy, and you are consorting with a known republican? Not to mention a man so cruel he, he,

          “He thinks Dae-Seong is weak,” Euna spoke. Her wavering voice echoed over the table, everyone’s eyes turning to her. “I mean, that’s what you’re doing, right Kwan? Find someone so repugnant that Dae is outraged, spurring on another break down in hopes he’ll OD and you’ll what, become chairwoman of the board?”

          “Fuck you for insinuating I make my decisions based on Dae. Do you live and breathe at his request?” Kwan spat, the heat from the food and the fight rising in her cheeks.

          “No,” Euna was incredulous, how could Kwan assume that?

          Through gritted teeth she responded, “Neither do I.”

          “For two million, Mr. Chairman,” Jun motioned toward Dae, “explain to us how you could be fucking a member of the opposing party, who has tried to ruin this family numerous times? Is the dick that great?” Jun-Seo pressed.

          “Don’t pretend that you haven’t fucked him, fag,” Dae laughed. “You two are the biggest whores in the game.”

          “That’s not true,”

          “The fact that you’re Eskimo siblings, not once, not twice, but have shared more than three sexual partners is revolting. You’re fucking freaks, sodomizing the legacy of this family for some log cabin taint who can’t even be bothered to pay the child support for the kids he knows about.”

          “How do you know so many categories of gay men?” Euna asked, eyes narrowing at Dae-Seong, “You been experimenting?”

          “Oh, don’t even get me started on you and your choices, Euna,” Dae rolled his eyes then glanced at Jun-Seo, who was sneering at him.

          “What could you possibly say that you haven’t before?” Euna cackled, a sound so foreign Yoongi can’t help but feel his eyes bug out.

          “Whoa,” Mr. Handsome says in his ear.

          “Oh shit,” RM responds.  

          “You’re not even worth discussing,” Kwan-Min stepped in, and swinging the last of her cocktail back, she turned to Dae-Seong. “I’m more interested in your affinity for homosexual stereotypes. Tell me, when you’re alone in your house, your wife sleeping in a separate apartment, cities away, is that what you’re watching? Is that what gets you off? Picturing a willing gaping hole, just waiting to be ruined? Or no, I’m sorry, but Jun, don’t you think he’d be-

          “A power bottom? Absolutely, he spends his nights ogling over submissive bears, trying to find one big enough to fill him, scrolling through chatrooms under, what was his username?” Jun-Seo doesn’t look at Kwan, he knows she understands what is about to transpire.

          “Beary-willing007,” They recite together.

          J-Hope guffaws in Suga’s ear, followed by a loud “oh shit!”

          “I can’t imagine how it would look if your little, what did you call it?” Kwan asked.

          “The twink or the fag?” Jun-Seo repeated Dae’s words so seamlessly, so effortlessly, to a blind eye it would’ve been hard to tell that Jun wasn’t Dae’s twin.

          “Both, if your nefarious activities and browser history was discovered, or dare a say, leaked?” Kwan raised an eyebrow.

          “You think you scare me?” Dae-Seong asked. “Summer, 2012, what happened to you?”

          “Why would you bring that up?” Kwan’s glare faltered, a subtle shift in her brow, the sneer dipping before returning at full capacity.

          “We need to know what happened summer 12,” RM stated, voice low as he jotted down the date.

          “You want to throw dirty laundry out into the open, might as well air yours,”

          “Fuck you,”

          “I didn’t start this,”

          “Yes you did,”

          “Jun-Seo, care to tell us what happened to you winter, 2014?”

          “No,”

          “I thought so,” Dae pointed his knife at each of them, “Before you go accusing me of being a fucking homo, check that I don’t have your history sealed and filed.”

          “Did you get that?” RM asked.

          “Yeah, got it,” J-Hope responded.

          “And Euna,” Dae turned his attention to his youngest sibling, who sat quietly eating her food. “Don’t ever bring a bottom feeder home again, unless he’s going to eat my ass, you hear me? Or I will do to you what was done to Kwan-pussy-ass-Min.”

          “Fuck you Dae,” Euna spewed.

          “Excuse me?” He yelled, standing to his full height.

          “I said, fuck you,” Euna repeated with a little more gumption.

          “Oh Euna, little Euna, too smart for everyone, too polite and meek to ever be taken seriously, to fucking boring and oblivious to know that her boyfriend’s only date her for access or career status, so stupid that she can’t recognize that the only reason she’s getting the company is that she’s so incompetent, no one will believe her when –

          “Dae-Seong!” Mr. Lee yelled.

          “Don’t bring a fucking knife to a gun fight, Euna, I will end you.” He seethed.

          “What is your problem with Yoongi? He’s the first man I bring home and you-

          “What do you not understand about our family? What do you not understand about the caliber of person we need to be with in order to-

          “What, watch porn, order sex workers and pray the gay away?” Euna yelled.

          “Watch your tone,” Mr. Valentine said.

          “You’re acting like you don’t have secrets, like your marriage is pure and good, it’s not Dae. I don’t blame her for leaving you, anyone with a modicum of sense would see that you are nothing more than a toxic, manipulative, alcoholic coke head, who only has his job because daddy loves him the most.”

          “You think your relationship with Yoongi is going to be any different?” Jun-Seo spoke up, deflecting from the rising anger in Dae. “What makes you so special?”

          “First, I love him,” Euna responded, earning a scoff and eyeroll from every member of the Lee family. “Second, if he makes it out alive from this dinner with you assholes, then he truly is the most resilient person in the world. Finally,”

          “Thank fuck,” Jun-Seo exclaimed.

          “Finally, he was raised to be kind and respectful, unlike the four of us,” Euna concluded with a haughty exhale and a glare at her mother.

          “Wait – are you sure that’s not just Seokjin in a new suit?” Dae-Seong cackled, nodding at their father who also laughed.

          “I hate this family,” Euna rose and tossed her napkin on the floor, a dramatic flair that sent her brothers and father into a fit of laughter.

          “You act like you aren’t the ingrown hair on the taint of this family, and I think I speak for all of us when I say that I would love to extract you,” Dae said.

          His words hung in the air as Euna walked out of the living room, Yoongi on her tail.

          Catching up to her, Yoongi reached for her hand, which she hastily pulled away.

          “Euna,” His voice was measured.

          “Can we please just go?” She whispered, tears beginning to stream down her face.

          “Yeah, can I just run to the bathroom quick? Grab the coats and I’ll meet you outside,” He pressed a kiss to her forehead before following one of the workers to the nearest bathroom. Hoping to shake the worker, Yoongi deftly exited the bathroom before wandering down the hall. He followed the sound of voices and stopped short of what he assumed was Mr. Lee’s office.

          Mr. Lee stood next to Dae-Seong, a fresh glass of whiskey in hand. “Did you read the brief on UAE?”

          “Yes,” Dae-Seong answered.

          “I want your recommendations tomorrow by 9AM,” Mr. Lee instructed, “None of that pussy shit you drew up for Spain, either.”

          “Pussy shit in Spain is child’s play in the Emirates. I’ll bring something, nuclear,”

          “Don’t jerk me around like you do with your pathetic excuse for a cock, Dae. I do not want to have to fire you and replace you with Jun-Seo,” Mr. Lee slammed his glass down before retreating through a door Yoongi hadn’t seen when he’d glanced in.

          “I’m sorry father, I will have the materials ready,” Dae’s voice was pathetic, deflated in the wake of his father’s anger. He hated being belittled and demeaned, hated the hurt his father hurled at him, the constant need for him to be better than everyone else. He hated how easily it came to Euna, how she could understand the numbers and draw connections within seconds of being presented with the problem. He hated Euna’s prowess, how businessmen and women flocked to her, a cello prodigy, ballet star in training, perfect grades, whored out to different branches so she could learn the business. Every fuck up Dae-Seong had made resulted in Euna’s success, and their father and mother, though more covertly, had egged his jealousy on.

          Yoongi placed a mic on the inside of the door before slipping back into the hallway and out of the Lee estate, to Euna’s embrace.

          “Your place or mine?” He asked as he sat in the driver’s seat of his car.

          “Anywhere but here,” She responded, eyes blinking down tears as Yoongi drove.

Next: Searching for Seokjin Pt. 2

#bangtan #codename cupid #codename #code name #code name cupid #min yoongi / suga #min yoongi #Park Jimin #min yoongi x oc #Park Jimin x oc #original female character #original male character #family dinner #lee family #lee enterprises #kim namjoon / rm #kim namjoon #Kim Seokjin #jung hoseok #Jung Hoseok / j hope #BTS fanfic #BTS drabble #BTS #BTS spy au #spy au #government agent au #thebtswritersclub #ficswithluv #btsgoldnet

[imaginedeux]

Good to Me

A/N: Another story I definitely shouldnt be starting but I wanted to write this for the holidays but, obviously THAT DIDNT HAPPEN. So yeah, Harrison Osterfield x Fem Reader, University AU, all that good shit.

                                                             ~~~

“What do you mean you want to break up with me?!” The girl’s screech sounded over the loud music of the bar she was in. It was the weekend before the local University was scheduled to start, so most of the students were there drinking the already existing nerves for another semester, and for some, the beginning of their last year of undergrad. “If anything, I should be the one breaking up with you Osterfield!”

“I really thought you were different Angie, but I guess I was wrong. Next time, don’t go sleeping with one of the guys on the team if you’re planning on cheating with someone again, the lads don’t like to keep their mouths shut.” The once baby blue eyes, were now navy with regret. “I find everything out in the end.”

“Fuck you Harrison!” With that the pretty brunette turned on her heel and made a beeline to the door of the bar. Even with how loud the music was, the screeching caught the attention of the other occupants in the bar, many of which were classmates of the two in the spotlight. The hushed whispers and lingering stares were something the male was used to. For some reason, when he decided to end a ‘relationship’, it was always in a very public place.

“You wish you were!” That’s another tick on the ‘how many girls can Harrison piss off before the end of the decade’ tally board. Harrison really though that she was different, having spent the last couple of months together, he even though of taking her to meet his family back in the UK. But he couldn’t let everyone know how gutted he was, on and off the field he was known to keep a level head in all types of situations. Never one to crack under pressure during a presentation, or lose his cool during a match, Harrison Osterfield was a guy many were jealous of, many wanted to be him, and many wanted to be with him. A shrug was all he had left to say before he turned back to his best friend. “So, how about a round of shots? On me?”

“Sorry Haz, I have a meeting with my advisor tomorrow morning. I’ll be DD tonight.” The messy haired brunette gave his best friend a small grin, holding up his glass of water. The two brunettes were almost never seen without one another, having both gained scholarships to play state side, they were the two Englishmen no one dared to mess with. They’ve been thick as thieves since before they made their grand entrance their freshman year at freshman orientation when they showed up the senior orientation leaders at their personal game of choice, soccer.

“Alright, whatever you say Tom! Hey! Round of shot for the house on me!” The blue eyed male yelled, gaining a cheer from the rest of the students at the bar. The brown eyed brunette could only sigh as his best friend took a shot with the rest of the bar. He’d gotten used to this side of Harrison, but he knew that in the morning, it would be a completely different story. He and Harrison were no strangers to alcohol, hell they had a couple more years on most of their fellow classmates, with England’s drinking age being 18 rather the state’s 21. He knew Harrison could handle his alcohol better than most at the pub but, with Tom volunteering to be his designated driver, that’s all he had to hear before he went all out. Most of the time the two would take turns on who would be DD, but with a meeting in the morning, a couple of glasses of water would suffice for the dark eyed Englishman.

“Okay, maybe I should have stopped you after that last game of Chandelier, Haz!” Tom groaned, as Harrison stumbled to the bar, trying to get his one last fix before the place would close for the night.

“Nah! I’m peachy keen! If anything I can still beat you at beer pong Tommo!” Harrison laughed, making his way to the bar. Sober Harrison was quick on his feet, drunk Harrison on the other hand, not so much. Colliding with a poor bystander showed that, causing the two involved to hit the ground, hard.

“Haz!” Tom yelled, quickly making his way to his best friend, and the person he knocked over in his drunken state. “I’m so sorry! He’s usually not like this!”

“Did he really have his heart broken, again?” The person asked getting up from the ground, not needing Tom’s help. The two boys’ heads shot up to see a face neither had seen in almost a year. “Would have thought that you learned something in the past year Hazza.”

“Is that you-“Tom started before Harrison stoop up from his spot on the grimy pub floor, scaring the other two people.

“(Y/N), youre back?”

“Who’s so important that I’m being dragged to a random brunch place after a night out?” The taller of the two questioned, leaving his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, blocking out the sun that was shining through the glass windows that covered the front of the restaurant.

“Haz, whats the last thing that you remember from last night?” Tom asked stepping in front of his best friend, stopping him in his tracks.

“Winning at chandelier.” He said confidently, the same smug smirk from his win the night before.

“No one wins at chandelier you div.” A new voice laughed, wiping the smirk off of Harrison’s face as his eyes locked eyes with (y/e/c).

“Did we make you wait long (Y/N)? It was a hassle getting this one out of bed this morning.”

“Harrison! Wake up you div!” The non-hungover Englishman yelled pulling the sheets off his best friend, trying to wake him up. “Shower and get dressed we have a lunch to go to!”

“I thought you had a meeting to go to!” The hungover Englishman groaned, grabbing at his duvet, in a desperate move to get some more sleep.

“Yeah, that was 3 hours ago yah, div. Now, come on, I’m leaving in 20 minutes with or without you.”

“Nah, I got here like 5 minutes ago. But you guys got here just in time, I just got a table.” The grin on the other person was genuine, brighter than the sun hitting Harrison’s back.

“(Y/N)…” Harrison whispered as she turned to walk back towards the table that was set for the three of them.

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield university! AU #harrison osterfield AU #harrison osterfield imagine

[roonil-wazlib-at-221b]

A Nice Day Off

Request: Could you write a spn/tua crossover fic? I need this in my life!

Pairing: slight Destiel. That’s it. It’s also pretty long because I felt like this needed backstory and the concept was fun to write. Enjoy!

Dean groans with frustration at the sight of a red hem turning the corner of the labyrinth he’s currently trapped in with his brother and Cas, with no way to call their backup, Jack, for help, because there’s no service in this goddamn maze.

First a trail of bodies with different organs cut out starting in, what a coincidence, the same town Sam and Dean were hunting a ghost in. But the mutilated people hadn’t stopped showing up in the hospital, even though they’d definitely taken care of the ghost. Then there was a girl who’d had one of her eyes scooped out, claiming to only remember seeing the color red before she’d passed out again from the pain. The color red, and a weird shed in the woods behind the high school with strange markings on the door.

The shed hadn’t been hard to find. It’d been even easier to find with the obvious bloody trail leading up to the door where, of course, Cas had identified the markings as Satanic.

Then, because they’re all dumbasses, Sam, Dean, and Cas stepped into the shed, and Dean hasn’t seen his brother since.

The shed, which had appeared to be smaller than a regular motel room from the outside, turns out to have a humongous inside. There had been a trapdoor that led to a chute or something once they all stepped inside and Dean and Sam had gone down different sides.

(And yes, the only reason Cas stayed with Dean is because he was holding onto Dean’s jacket. Shut up.)

Then Dean had seen a figure in red running down whatever hallway they’d landed in and he’d taken off. No matter how fast he runs, the figure in red always seems to be one step ahead of him.

“Son of a bitch!” he finally yells, hitting the wall with the side of his fist with frustration. “Sammy!”

Sam doesn’t respond.

Dean swears some more, his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath. Cas, as usual, is unaffected by everything that Dean is affected by, which is, as usual, infuriating.

Dean looks up, ready to snap at Cas for being useless when it comes to finding his brother or catching the figure in red, but he sees the figure in red peering back around the corner.

Oh.

This is a game of cat and mouse, and Dean’s not entirely confident he’s not the mouse.

“What do you want, you bitch?” he wheezes, standing up and groaning. He’s getting too old for this.

The figure in red flicks its head and for the first time Dean hears his brother’s voice.

“Dean!” It sounds to be coming from behind the red figure.

“Sammy!” Dean bellows, cursing internally again before starting to jog again. He’s not entirely sure he wants to reach where the figure in red is leading him, but there’s also the chance that his brother is in trouble.

A giggle floats down the corridor and the figure in red whips away.

Dean is lost. Definitely. He’s lost count of the rights and the lefts he’s taken. It’s at least four more turns before he gets a better glimpse of the figure in red as the hallway opens up into a massive chamber with at least five other hallway entrances.

Basically, this was a maze. A massive underground maze. And now Sam, Dean, and Cas are in the middle of it.

“Sammy!” Dean barks when he sees his brother on the opposite side of the room. He doesn’t look injured, but still—“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Dean,” Sam replies. “You’re fine, right? And you, Cas?”

Both men nod their heads.

The figure in red lowers its hood and Dean recognizes who it is.

Because of course it’s Rowena.

“What are you doing here?” he spits. Witches. “Why’d you lead us in a wild goose chase in a maze? Wait—you’re the reason for all the mutilations, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” the witch laughs. “But don’t worry. They’re all alive, correct? I left them at the hospital after retrieving what I wanted from them.” She winks over her shoulder at Sam. “You boys must be rubbing off on me.”

“So this was all for a spell?” Dean asks, moving to step forward but stopping as if he’s been tethered to a brick wall. He looks back and sees that Cas has a hold of the back of his jacket. He shrugs. It’s a valid point; Rowena is a wild card if they’ve ever met one. It’s better to be cautious and not get within reach of her to hex them or spew bodily fluids.

“Yes,” Rowena answers briskly. “I need to pop into another dimension quickly and get another ingredient for a spell I’m working on that will help you with whatever apocalypse the three of you have started.”

Dean scowls. Well, yes, there is (but only sort of) a looming apocalypse on the horizon, but she wasn’t supposed to know about that. “Why? What’s in it for you?”

“Your enemies have a price on my head,” she replies. “While you three seem to have a knack for escaping the clutches of death, I’d prefer not to have to create another charm to prevent me from the unpleasant sensation. It can be quite painful to die, even if I survive.”

Dean looks at Sam as the witch starts to chant, and he shrugs. He’s always had a soft spot for the witch, but Dean doesn’t know why. He takes small solace in the fact that Sam’s here, and if worst comes to worst he’ll be the one to end the witch once and for all. Somehow.

“Then why did you lure us down this labyrinth?” Cas asks.

Rowena says a final word and a crack splits the silence, followed by a white light that splits the air. “I have no idea what’s in this new dimension. I quite wanted protection, seeing as how our best interests align in this endeavor.”

Dean can’t argue with that sound logic. He examines what must be the portal suspiciously.

“That’s not any spell we’ve seen before,” Sam points out.

Rowena waves her hand airily. “I made a new one that’s much more convenient. No more pesky one-in-a-million ingredients. Just a few human body parts and some common herbs. Simple, if you’ve got enough talent. It’ll last for eight hours.” She winks at Sam. “Are you boys ready?”

“Hold on a sec,” Sam mutters. He fishes his phone out of his pocket. “Should probably give Jack a heads-up.” He scowls. “No service.”

“Great,” Dean gripes. Poor kid’s gonna be confused and worried for a full day before they get back. “Let’s make this trip as quick as possible, then.”

Cas grips Dean’s hand (shut up, Sam) and Sam grabs the hem of Dean’s jacket as Dean uses his free hand to grip the shoulder of Sam’s jacket. No more taking any chances of going down different chutes. In a line, they follow Rowena into the blinding light...

And into an empty room.

Sam spins on his heel, taking in the area, and Dean looks up. A massive steel chandelier hangs from the ceiling of what must be a mansion, judging by the size of the foyer and the many rooms that look to branch off of it.

“Ah, civilization,” Rowena says, pleased. She straightens her already-straight dress and pats her hair. “Perfect.”

“Where are we?” Cas asks, frowning. “I can’t sense any of my brothers and sisters.”

“We must have landed in a universe without heaven,” Sam exhales. “Remember Jared Padalecki? And Supernatural?”

“And Jensen Ackles,” Dean acknowledges, nodding. “Sorry, Cas, but looks like you’re outta grace for the moment.”

Cas looks at his hands, frowning.

Something hurtles through the air and buries itself into Cas’s chest. A knife. Fuck. Will that hurt him, even though he’s an angel, but he doesn’t have any powers here, but does that just apply to grace and wings or—

“Sam, is he okay?” Dean asks tersely, holding up his gun in the direction the knife had come from. He sees a pair of eyes glint and adjusts accordingly.

Something flashes behind him and the clicking of a safety near his ear makes Dean’s blood run cold.

“Don’t even try it,” Sam growls. Dean knows that he’s got his gun pointed at whoever’s pointing one at him.

“Or what?” the person hisses through gritted teeth. “You’ll shoot me?”

“Yes,” Sam replies resolutely. It must surprise him.

“I’m fine,” Cas groans, on the ground and not sounding very fine. “I suppose our questions were answered. I am still unable to be killed except by my—”

“Shh,” Dean hisses, not wanting to give their attackers any ideas.

“We must have gotten off on the wrong foot,” Rowena calls, her voice lilting in the dusty air. “We didn’t mean to end up in your house.”

“Really?” an unfamiliar voice snarls behind Dean. “What’s that light?”

“What are they talking about, Five?” a deep, grating voice asks.

“Does it look like I know?” the voice snaps back. It’s the voice of a kid. “They came through a light in the middle of our foyer. Do I have any experience with that sort of stuff?”

“Uh... yes,” another person points out.

“Fair enough,” the kid admits.

“Sam, is there a preteen holding a gun to my head right now?” Dean asks, rolling his eyes.

Sam can’t keep the snicker out of his voice, even though he knows this is a serious situation. “Yep.”

“Look,” Dean starts, “I’m sure if we all put down our weapons, we can sort something out.”

The preteen snorts. “I’m not about to compromise to some robbers breaking into our house.”

“Buddy, you’re not gonna be involved in the conversation,” Sam retorts. “The adults are gonna handle this one.”

Cas sighs. There’s movement at Dean’s feet—undoubtedly he’s standing up—and two gunshots.

Dean winces.

“Fine, fine,” Cas grumbles. Dean whirls just in time to see Sam knock the gun out of the stunned preteen boy’s hands.

“What the hell are you?” the boy whispers.

“Five?” a new voice asks. “What the hell is going on?”

Something flashes and Dean chances a look behind himself. Fuck. It’s Jack, stumbling out of the portal. How he’d known to go inside the shed, find the middle of the maze, and jump through the portal, Dean doesn’t know.

“Hello!” Jack beams at his three dads and then at the six people trickling into the room. “It’s nice to meet you!”

“He’s got powers too!” a man holding a throwing knife marvels. Undoubtedly he’s the one that threw it at Cas’s chest. “But he’s not our age.”

“Like I said,” Dean repeats. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

~~~~

Rowena left the boys to deal with the five adults and one bloodthirsty preteen, citing the need to find whatever ingredient that exists in this universe and not in their own.

There’s a monstrous man called Luther (who is very white), and the man dressed in black leather that had thrown a knife at Cas is called Diego (who is definitely not white, probably Mexican). He marvels at how Cas survived the knife to the chest as well as two bullet wounds, even going so far as insisting that he take off his shirt to prove he doesn’t have a bulletproof vest on.

Dean hadn’t liked them all marveling over the angel’s surprisingly toned chest.

Then there’s a lady named Allison (who is African-American) and another lady called Vanya (who is white). The preteen boy is called Five, and he’s definitely at least part not-Caucasian.

And they all claim to be siblings.

Dean puzzles over that for five seconds before remembering that adoption is a thing. The jump to another reality must have scrambled his brains again.

“This is my older brother, Dean,” Sam introduces. “This is Cas, Dean’s boyfr—”

Cas clears his throat. He knows that Dean still isn’t comfortable with people knowing about their... relationship.

“Well, he’s an angel. And this is our son, Jack, who is half-archangel,” Sam finishes.

“He’s... all three of you’s son?” Vanya asks, and, despite the bad grammar, Sam nods.

“Adopted,” Dean adds. “Technically, he’s Lucifer’s son. But Lucifer’s a major dick that tortured my brother for about a thousand years, and the kid isn’t stupid, so he stays with us.”

Jack preens at being called not stupid, which is kind of a low bar. Maybe Dean should compliment the kid more. No, scratch that, he should definitely compliment the kid more. God knows Dean would’ve liked a little more appreciation for taking care of Sammy when he was younger from John. “I killed Lucifer for hurting Sam,” he adds angelically. “He wasn’t very nice.”

Sam reaches out and pats Jack’s knee. “We’re all very proud of you, Jack.”

“Lucifer?” Luther repeats. “Uh...”

“Oh, yeah,” Dean adds. “You guys don’t have God in this universe.”

“We have Christianity,” Allison says, a little defensively.

“Wait,” Sam yelps. “He’s—” He points at Five, who is definitely at the most fifteen years old, and currently drinking a margarita. Judging by the ingredients on the counter, it is most definitely not non-alcoholic.

“That’s a long story,” Diego sighs.

“We could take turns?” Jack suggests.

~~~~

At the end of it, everyone but Jack, who opts for a glass of chocolate milk, is drinking alcohol. Apparently his powers are still intact in this universe, maybe because he’s as powerful or more so than an archangel. That’s useful to know.

“So you’re all the same age,” Sam says for the third time. “Except for the kid, who is not actually a kid.”

Five nods. “58.”

“But for most of those years he was completely isolated and therefore not any more mature than a regular fifteen-year-old kid, only more murderous,” someone says singsong behind them. Dean jumps.

Five scowls. “That is so not true, asshole—”

“Ah, yes,” Allison sighs. “This is Klaus.”

“It is definitely true,” Klaus argues back, taking the margarita out of Five’s hands and drinking the rest of it in one gulp. “He’s feral. All teenage boys are feral.”

“He’s also your sibling?” Cas checks.

“Don’t ask about his power,” Diego mutters. “It’s a sensitive topic.”

“I am not feral!” Five sputters. With a flash of blue light, he disappears and reappears in front of Klaus, hands on his hips.

“Uh-huh,” Klaus nods, sidestepping him. “How could you have grown up without other people?”

“I had Dolores!” Five snarls, pulling a handgun out of his pocket and pointing it at his brother. Klaus seems unbothered. He pulls two bottles of whiskey from the shelf of alcohol and tosses the other behind his back. Five disappears and reappears, catching the bottle with a huff and stowing the gun. Apparently all is forgiven.

“Ah...” Allison starts, looking pained. “I suppose it’s no use to remind you that we don’t point guns at our siblings.”

“This is a regular occurrence, yes?” Castiel asks.

“Unfortunately,” Vanya answers, wearing an identical expression of consternation.

Cas points at Dean. “You shouldn’t be too worried. Sam and Dean have died multiple times. One time Sam even killed him. They turned out fine.”

Sam winces at that comment.

“It’s fine, Sam,” Dean says automatically. He doesn’t even remember Sam killing him during that one time Gabriel decided to be an even bigger dick than normal. “Don’t even remember it.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Five blurts out, staring at the grown men with new respect.

“They never even agree to not bring weapons into the kitchen,” Cas continues.

“I know, right?” Allison exclaims. “Like, we’re all eating breakfast! Don’t clean your knives, Diego!” She gives her brother the stink eye.

“What if something happens?” Diego and Dean retort back in unison. They exchange startled looks.

“One time,” Jack adds, “Dean shot me in the back in a grocery store.” He then goes back to drinking his chocolate milk, content to listen to the conversation.

Luther opens his mouth to further ask about that statement but his younger/older sibling interrupts him. “No, no, I want to hear more about coming back to life,” Five insists, draping himself over a chair.

“Yeah,” Luther agrees, sending an uneasy look in Jack’s direction when the boy snaps his fingers and his glass of chocolate milk fills itself. “So Sam dies, and Dean sells his soul to bring him back. Then Dean dies and goes to hell, Cas saves him, and you’ve been saving the world ever since?”

Sam shrugs. “More or less.”

“And there’s another apocalypse,” Vanya says slowly. “And you’re stopping it by coming to our universe.”

Dean shrugs. “Rowena more or less made it so we had no choice.” He glances into the foyer, where the white light of the portal doesn’t waver.

Vanya nods and then nudges Diego with her elbow. Her brother groans and rolls his eyes but leans forward and holds a hand out to Cas. “Sorry for stabbing you, man. No hard feelings?”

Cas takes his hand, a mysterious half-smile playing on his lips. “Of course.”

Vanya clears her throat. “Five, apologize for shooting Castiel or I’m taking your gun.”

Five snorts. “So? I’ve got more.”

“How many more?” Luther asks.

“Not telling.”

“I heard a rumor,” Allison says teasingly, “that you told us how many guns you have.”

“Fifteen,” Five says promptly, then he scowls. “Bitch. I’m still not giving you them. Get your own.”

Klaus says out of the blue, “No, I will not!” He flushes when everyone turns to look at him. “Ben told me to tell Diego to throw a knife at Jack since it won’t hurt him either.”

Diego brightens at the idea and Sam leaps off of the couch, positioning himself between the murderous superpowered human and the half-archangel. “We still don’t know why the angel’s powers are working while there’s no heaven,” he says firmly. “We’re not risking any more injuries.”

“I could just cut him,” Diego wheedles. “Just to see if it makes a cut and then it heals or if nothing happens. Come on. We don’t know how angels work.”

Jack shrugs and Dean barks, “We’re not cutting Jack for a science experiment!”

Klaus claps. “We should do science experiments!” as if he hadn’t heard Dean at all.

And that is how Dean finds himself in the courtyard of the Umbrella Academy mansion, torn between cheering for Cas and Luther as they compete to see who can lift the largest weight.

“It’s definitely going to be Cas,” Sam mutters. The Winchester brothers stand side-by-side in identical poses as they assess the experiments.

“Hey!” Allison yelps. “Luther, don’t you dare pick up my car! Dean, don’t encourage them!” The half-gorilla man sends her a sheepish look and shrugs at Cas.

Dean holds up his hands. “Like I can control them, lady.”

Allison rolls her eyes. “Castiel, come over here real quick.”

Well, that’s done for the day, Dean supposes. He turns around to see Jack with a blindfold over his eyes disappearing and reappearing, apparently playing tag with Five while both boys use their teleportation powers.

A bright smile on his face, Jack disappears before Five’s even left and appears on top of the boy, sending both ageless kids tumbling to the ground, giggling.

“Scary,” Luther mutters at Dean’s side. “Never seen Five laugh before.”

Dean looks at him out of the corner of his eye. “You ever been able to not pick something up?”

“I’ve never tried a house or something like that, obviously,” Luther admits, rubbing his chin. “But I’ve never really found something that I haven’t been able to lift.”

“That’s so cool,” Dean admits, shaking his head.

“Yo, Winchester!” Diego yells, waving as both Winchesters whip their heads around. “Target practice!”

“You say you can’t miss a target, huh?” Sam asks, smirking.

Diego nods.

“Well, we can do that without having a superpower,” Dean brags, all in good nature of course, and the competition is on.

When it’s discovered that Sam and Dean really are as good as Diego from years of practice, they call Jack over to move the targets midair. This is where Diego smirks, as Sam and Dean do miss a few and he misses none, even when his knives flip over themselves, zip back and forth, and defy the laws of gravity as they fly through the air.

“I’m going to use the restroom,” Dean announces at one point. “Where—”

“Walk straight, go up the stairs, take your first left,” Luther directs. He claps Dean on the shoulder and sends him stumbling away, hissing as he rubs his shoulder. “Uh, sorry.”

Dean really didn’t mean to eavesdrop. He’s two steps up when he hears Castiel’s voice and realizes he’d gone inside and not come back out. Curious now, he follows the voices down a staircase and flattens himself against the wall near the doorway of what must be the kitchen, judging by the smell of food inside the room.

“—determined to throw himself into the line of fire,” Cas gripes.

“I know, right?” Vanya exclaims. “Five seems to think he’s invincible or something.”

“One time he told me he was fine after getting stabbed because he’s gotten stabbed before!”

Allison giggles. “Like you can build up an immunity to stab wounds.”

“It’s quite hard to protect someone with the survival instincts of a squirrel on crack cocaine,” Cas remarks. Dean’s face colors when he realizes that he’s walked in on a gossip session consisting of his boyfriend and the two exasperated siblings of some weird-ass people.

“He loves you though, right?” Allison asks. “I could see it in the way he looked at you.”

Dean’s face gets even hotter. He’s not a big fan of the ‘L’ word.

“We have a profound bond,” Cas replies simply. That’s always been enough for their relationship.

Dean sneaks back up the stairs, hoping they don’t hear his footsteps. When he reaches the foyer, Rowena steps into the building, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

“Did you get it?” he asks gruffly.

Rowena smiles. “Of course I did. Are you ready to go?”

“Uh...” Dean knows he has to get back to his universe. He has a responsibility to save the world, of course. But it was enjoyable to hear about other people’s crazy lives and be able to relax. He settles for gesturing for her to follow and he leads her out to the courtyard.

He and Rowena watch as Sam tries frantically to stop Five from cutting Jack’s arm, even as Jack holds his arm out and holds him in place.

“I’m fine,” Jack insists. “See?” Five pokes his skin with the tip of the knife, marveling when the skin opens but no blood runs out and it knits itself back together in mere seconds.

“That’s so cool,” Diego breathes, shaking his head.

“Hey!” Dean barks, making all the spectators jump. “What did I say? Did I say no cutting Jack open or did I say yes cutting Jack open?”

Sheepishly, Jack lets Sam go and shrugs at Five. “Is it time for us to go already, Miss Rowena?”

“I’m sorry, Jack, but yes,” she answers.

Every person in the courtyard slumps a little bit.

“Did I hear Rowena?” Cas asks behind Dean, making him jump. “Oh. I supposed it was you. Our time is nearly running out.”

“You guys are leaving?” Vanya asks, visibly disappointed.

“We have an apocalypse to prevent,” Sam explains, gesturing for Jack to follow him. Jack misunderstands the signal and takes Sam’s outstretched hand, startling him—but in a good way.

Rowena winks at the disappointed Five. “Yes, but once we’ve finished saving the world for the umpteenth time I don’t think it’ll be too hard to come visit again.”

Diego brightens. “And we can stab the angels more!”

“NO!”

~~~~

“Ugh, I’m bored,” Five gripes, throwing himself backwards on the couch. “There’s nothing to do. No one to kill.” Disappointingly, the Temps Commission has stopped sending more agents after Five, probably realizing he thinks of them merely as dummies to practice his murder skills on.

“You could do your schoolwork,” Klaus informs him. Both brothers make faces immediately. “That was Ben,” he says hastily. “Not me. Don’t do your schoolwork.”

“Wasn’t going to anyway, but thanks,” Five grunts. Maybe if all the blood flow goes to his head he’ll pass out. That’d be a fun way to pass the time.

A loud crack echoes through the mansion, almost like a gunshot, and Five topples off the couch.

“Hello!” someone calls out. “Is anybody home?”

A wide smile stretches across Five’s face. Finally. Someone to kill that can’t die.

“The Winchesters are back!”

Umbrella Academy Taglist:

@fentanvl @deathswretch @lightningidiot @five-hg @iamsnek666 @ameliatrh @ihatecheesyusernames @dora-the-grownup @emilyt0314 @idklol707

Forever Taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey

#tua #The Umbrella Academy #SPN #spn fic #spn fanfic #supernatural #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #dean winchester #dean x castiel #cas x dean #castiel #dean winchester x castiel #destiel #Sam Winchester #rowena #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #Allison Hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five #five hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #crossover #jack kline #ben hargreeves

[demonsofhunting]

All My Sins - Chapter 5

Pairing: priest!Cas x demon!Dean

Summary: After Castiel finds the note in his apartment, things are getting dark. All he knows is that he needs to find Dean! But the things he encounters in the young man's house are everything but good...

Warnings: angst, lots of blood, a dead body...let's just say it's a pretty dark chapter

Words: about 1900

A/N: Oh my god, chapter five!♡ This one is pretty heavy, and our poor Cas has to get through a lot of shocks...I'm so sorry! *hides* With this one, the story is definitely heading into a dark direction - this is going to be one hell of a ride!

Catch up here ( Masterlist ) ♡

I hope you'll like it! Enjoy! <3

It is pretty cold outside. There's a heavy wind that blows through the trees near the road, making an weeping sound. Again. It sweeps through Dean's hair, tugs on his leather jacket, and makes him shiver.

He's staring out of the window of his living room, his nails digging into his hands, brutally.

There's a hunger inside of him.

A feeling that he tried to fight for so long.

He blinks, wants it to vanish.

But it doesn't.

It just gets stronger and stronger, forcing him to cry out in pain.

You have to give in.

No. He won't.

You can't fight it much longer.

Of course, he can.

"Fuck off," he growls.

He remembers the time two days ago, when he was lost in the night. A couple of hours before he called Cas to pick him up, his hands shaking in fear.

He remembers how it felt to cut a bird's legs of with a knife that he had in his pocket. How it felt to watch it crawl, trying to get away.

How its insides felt between his fingers, when he ripped its heart out as he got bored.

I'm a monster.

He wants to scream, to burn this fucking house down.

I can't stay. I have to go.

He wants to smite himself for being that stupid to let someone like Castiel Novak in his heart.

It wasn't supposed to be something that lasts longer than a few nights.

I wasn't supposed to fall in love.

At first, all Dean wanted was another one night stand, he wanted to have some fun.

But then things changed, and he just couldn't let it go. He was too selfish, to weak to leave Cas.

I...I don't want to hurt him. He's mine.

He's my only anchor.

He turns around slowly, his emerald eyes are scanning the scene behind him.

There's a body on the floor of his living room, bleeding.

It's a young woman. She stares at the ceiling with wide, empty eyes. There's blood running out of many long cuts on her body, caused by the knife that lies next to her.

Dean tilts his head, thoughtfully.

He had to kill her, it wasn't his fault.

She was the one who broke into his house, trying to steal something. Before he slit her throat he let her feel what it really means to burn in hell...

And damn, it felt good.

Way too good.

The young man's gaze flows over the furniture in the dark room, looking at every inch of it, carefully. He observes the old piano and the bookshelves beside of it. The carpet. The chandelier at the ceiling.

It took me so long to arrange this lonely house like I want it to be. And now I'll have to leave.

"Stop crying, Winchester," he scoffs under his breath, grabbing the two bags he already packed before.

Then he shoots the body on his floor a last, unimpressed look, and goes out of the house, closing the door behind him.

Dean walks to his beloved Implala that's parked under a couple of trees near the road. He steps in it, starts the engine, and drives away.

His heart hurts like hell, but he forces himself to smile.

Now I can do whatever the hell I want.

And nobody can stop me.

---------------------------------------------------

"Dean, Dean, Dean, please! Why can't you answer your goddamn phone?!" Cas mutters in panic. He sits on the floor, his arms wrapped around his shaking body, holding his phone with unsteady hands to his ear.

Nothing.

"Damn it!" the priest cries out, throwing the phone across the room. He leans back and forth, tries to calm himself down.

I...I just can't!

His gaze is still lying on the small note. The small note with the words that made his world shatter within a few seconds.

Tears are streaming down his face, he just can't help it.

"Fuck!" he growls, burying his face in his hands, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

I need to do something! I need to -

Suddenly, he hesitates.

What if something happened to Dean? What if that's the reason why he doesn't answer his phone?

A cold claw clutches around Castiel's heart, and he breathes in, sharply.

Who could have written it? A person I know? Or...?

His heart skips a beat.

Fuck!

No matter how hard Cas tries, he can't finish a damn thought! He's way too tired, too nervous, way too...damaged.

He counts to three again, forces himself to breathe in a static rhythm.

Calm down, Novak.

You can do this.

"Okay..." he mutters, quietly, "Okay..."

After a few heartbeats, Cas can feel his heartbeat getting slower again. His hands are still shaking, but at least he will be able to walk again.

The priest stands up, carefully. He runs one hand through his hair, and looks around.

Then he grabs his jacket, puts his boots on, and leaves.

I have to find Dean.

--------------------------------------------------

As he reaches the young man's house, he is nervous as hell. He looks around in fear as he steps out of his car.

What if the person who wrote the letter is following me? Right now?

He tries to hide the panic that is rumbling in his chest, and walks over to the house.

"Dean?" he whispers, knocking at the door, shivering.

He searches for a door bell, but can't find one.

Okay...kinda weird.

He knocks again.

"Dean! Please, open the door! Something bad happened! R - really bad!" he shouts, his hands bumping on the wood.

Nothing. Just the howling sound of wind flowing through trees.

"Dean..." the priest mutters, powerless.

That's it. Something bad must have happened to him.

His knees are about to give in, but he fights against it, and tries his best to stay on his feet.

He turns around, staring at the empty street for a few seconds.

Then he begins to walk around the house. He tries to look through a couple of windows, but most of the are hidden behind curtains...

It's dark inside.

It's not a friendly shade of dark.

What if he's hurt? What if -

"Ah...fuck it!" Castiel hisses in despair.

He grabs a big stone from the ground of the yard, quickly. Before he can overthink the stupid thing he is about to do, he already throws the heavy thing through a window.

He winces because of the loud shattering noise that comes a long with it. Panic flows through every inch of his body, making him dizzy.

It's too late to think about the consequences...

He breaks the the rest of the fragments out of the window, using his elbow, carefully.

Then he looks around, kinda surprised that no one in the whole street seems to notice what is happening.

Or they just don't care.

"Okay, let's do this," the priest says, nervously.

Gladly, he doesn't cut himself at the sharp edges of the fragments as he climbes through the hole.

As his feet are hitting the ground on the other side, he already knows that something is wrong.

He breathes, heavily.

It's too damn dark to see anything.

"D - Dean...?" he asks, carefully, his voice nothing but a hoarse whisper.

Silence.

If Dean's in here, he doesn't answer.

He swallows.

I have to find a light switch. Now.

He begins to move, slowly.

One feet after the other. His steps are making a creaking sound on the old wood.

The darkness seems to be alive, shadows are crawling over the walls, thickly.

If a serial killer would be in here, he would have already killed me because of all the noise I'm making...right?

Suddenly, he stumbles over something.

Something big and soft. He falls to the ground with a squeak, his hands are hitting the surface at first, then his whole body slams down as well.

Castiel coughs. A sharp pain pulses through his wrists.

Oh no.

He tries to get up again, wondering why the hell his hands are suddenly...wet?

What is going on...I...

The priest finally gets to his feet, stumbling again, but this time he doesn't fall. His shaking hands are stroking over something that feels like a wall.

Finally.

He walks a few steps, holding the contact to the cold, rough surface, until he finds the light switch, eventually.

"Oh, thank God!" he sighs in relief, turning the lights on with a rapid gesture.

That's it.

Then he begins to scream.

There's blood everywhere.

On the ground, on the walls, even on Castiel's hands and clothes!

No! This can't be!

The priest forces himself to stop screaming, he presses his bloody hands on his mouth.

Nothing he ever witnessed was as horrifying as the things he encounters in this room.

It must be the living room due to the big piano, the old sofa and the bookshelves, the TV...holy shit.

There's a body on the floor.

A young woman.

Her dark hair is sticky because of the liters of blood on it. Her throat has being sliced, brutally, and her whole body is covered in cuts and bruises.

But the worst thing are those deep, dead eyes, staring at the ceiling without any life in it...

And the bloody knife that is lying next to her damaged body...

Castiel can't move.

He already knows that he's about to pass out.

I fell right over the dead body a few moments ago.

I have blood on my hands, I smeared it on the wall...I...I'm covered in it.

Obviously, Dean isn't in here.

Maybe he's dead too. Actually, That's the case that is most likely.

Cas swallows, pulling his hands away form his mouth, slowly.

I have to find him.

He walks like he's in trance as he leaves the room with static, firm steps.

The priest walks the whole small house. He looks into the empty kitchen, the bathroom, walks up a couple of stairs that lead the bedroom just to discover that they're all empty.

Dean's not here.

He's not here.

The next thing he hears is a loud noise from down the street. A car that drives.

Nothing special, but in this moment everything seems scary to Cas.

It takes him a moment to realise what he's doing in here, it's like the priest is awaking out of a deep sleep which was filled with nightmares.

He looks at his bloody clothes, his hands...

Suddenly, he knows what to do now.

I have to get rid of the body. If the police arrives at this place, they'll think that I did it, because of my DNA that's practically everywhere.

His heart beats, fastly, and every damn beat hurts.

It hurts so much.

Castiel walks down the stairs, looking at the disaster in the living room.

There's a small, bad whisper in the back of his head, telling him that Dean was the one who killed this woman, since the young man isn't in the house.

But the priest tells it to stop.

There is no way Dean would be capable of doing something like this.

But as he begins to clean up the mess that came along with a murder that the priest definitely not committed, he can't help but doubt it.

Something bad happened in here.

And I need to find out what that was.

I need to find Dean.

{ A/N: CHAPTER SIX ♡ }

That was chapter five! Thank you so much for reading and if you would like to leave a comment or reblog this shit, I will love you forever! <3

Tag lists are open!

Destiel/Forever Tags: @adoptdontshoppets @rebeloftheseas @ablavalba @smodernlife @ignis-glaciesque @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel @xsghn @trenchcoatsandfreckles @helpmeluci @legendary-destiel @leahslovelylibrary

"All My Sins" Tags: @emodestielshipper @emumag @waywardtricksterangel @didntwanderstillgotlost @angel-e-v-a

#supernatural #spn #supernatural fandom #spnfamily #dean winchester #spn fandom #supernatural family #spn supernatural #castiel #destiel #destiel fanfiction #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #destiel au #destiel series #destiel au series #supernatural fanfcition #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic series #spn au #spn au series #priest!cas #demon!dean x priest!castiel #demon!au #demon!dean x priest!cas #priest!au #all my sins #destiel angst

[aproblematicpanda]

Harry Potter? For the in-depth fandom ask

Hi thank you! ♥ I will use the books for my answers, since I didn’t really like most of the movies. I apologize if I mix up some of the characters, I’ve only read the books in my native language so I will have to google for some of the names in English. :’D

Top 5 favorite characters: Minerva McGonagall, Luna Lovegood, Fred & George Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley. Other characters you like: The golden trio obviously, Molly, Dobby, Draco Malfoy, ... There are not a lot of characters I dislike. Least favourite characters: Umbridge, for obvious reasons. Otps: Hermione and Ron. Notps: I don’t think I have any? I’m not very invested in shipping when it comes to the HP fandom, I pretty much keep an open mind to everything? Except incest but I’ve never seen anyone ship anything like that, so. Favourite friendships: Harry, Ron and Hermione, obviously, and I also really liked Fren, George and Lee, and Lavender and Parvati. Favourite family: The Weasleys Favourite episodes: / Favourite book:  Prisoner of Azkaban is probably my favorite book. Favourite quotes:  "If you want to know what a man’s like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals." "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." "But you know, happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light." "Harry witnessed Professor McGonagall walking right past Peeves who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier and could have sworn he heard her tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mouth, 'It unscrews the other way.’" "There is no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor." And probably more. The books have so many amazing scenes, funny, inspirational, sad, hopeful, ... It was really hard to pick just a few. Best musical moment: / Moment that made you fangirl the hardest: Ehh... I mean, obviously I was rooting for Harry and the ending was a satisfying one, just like every other time Harry beat Voldemort, but the moment that made me fangirl the hardest would probably be Hermione punching Draco in the face. xD When it really disappointed you: The only truly disappointing thing about the book is how House-Elves are treated. Other than that, the only time I’m disappoint is literally every time JK Rowling decides it’s a good idea to open her mouth. Saddest moment: The moment Harry breaks down in Dumbledore’s chambers after Sirius dies gives me chills every. damn. time I reread the book. Most well done character death: Oh god, this is so hard because most of the deaths really hit me hard Favourite guest star: / Favourite cast member: / Character you wish was still alive: Honestly? Probably Hedwig. Maybe Fred. One thing you hope really happens: That JK Rowling’s Twitter account is banned so she doesn’t have a damn platform anymore. Most shocking twist:  When did you start reading: I think the first three books were already out when I started to read them. My classmates kept telling me to do it and I was in that annoying phase where I refused to dive into anything that was this massively popular - but I’m glad I eventually caved because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have grown up in this fandom and that means I would’ve had an entirely different experience. Now I can still say I grew up with the books and I’m glad I did. Best animal/creature: I’m a gigantic sucker for unicorns and I’m not sorry about it. xD Favourite location: I mean, Hogwarts is amazing, the descriptions of the castle never get old. Trope you wish they would stop using: Ehh... I honestly don’t know? One thing this book does better than others: I love how this show has such an inspired, dedicated, creative fanbase. The amount of HP related art, fanfiction, headcanons, ... out there is mindblowing. I’ve never quite seen that happen in any other fandom and it’s part of why I love this one as much as I do. Like how people can take a character that’s mentioned maybe a couple of times in the books and they create so much content for them to the point where I’ve actively had to stop myself from writing an answer to this questions because the answer isn’t canon, that’s admirable. Funniest moments: Fred and George wrecking havoc on Umbridge and finally leaving the castle after they get caught is without a doubt the funniest scene I can think of. Couple you would like to see: Like I said, I was never really into shipping anyone with anyone. I enjoy quite a lot of fanon ships I see on Tumblr, though. Actor/Actress you want to join the cast: / Favourite outfit: Every outfit I can think of is influenced by the movies so I don’t really have an answer to this. I would’ve loved to see Hermione’s dress to the Yule Ball, though, and the Patil sisters’. Oh, and Fleur’s wedding dress. Favourite item: The Marauder’s map. Do you own anything related to this show: No. What house/team/group/friendship group/family/race etc would you be in: I’m a Slytherin. Most boring plotline: I can’t think of anything. The passage that bores me the most is the one where the Minister of Magic meets the Muggle Prime Minister but that’s not a plotline. I guess everything is just so well thought of, everything that’s in the books in there for a reason and I wouldn’t cut anything out of it. Most laughably bad moment: As much as I dislike JK Rowling, she wrote seven brilliant books. I can’t think of a bad moment. There are plot holes, sure, and things that really fucking bug me, but no laughably bad moments. At least, not any that I can think of right now. The fact that she gave Cho Chang two last names as a name is a bad moment, though - but it’s not laughably. It’s just more proof that JK Rowling is a terrible person. Best flashback/flashfoward if any: The memories Snape shows to Harry, and the ones they both get to see of each other during their Occlumency lessons. Most layered character: I love the character development Ron goes through. Most one dimensional character: Ehh. There were a lot of important characters so it makes sense that not all of them got the layers they deserved. Right now nobody who’s relevant to the plot comes to mind as an answer? Scariest moment: Well, when Harry and Dumbledore came back from finding the fake Horcrux, that had me scared. Not for their lives (because it was obvious that Harry would live and Dumbledore would die) but because it felt like all of Dumbledore’s plans would be ruined so that’d probably be the scariest moment for me? Grossest moment: Ehh... I would probably throw up if I had witnessed Nagini sliding out of Bathilda’s dead body so I’m gonna go with that one, that must’ve been horrifying for Harry, especially because he spares Hermione the details. Best looking male: Well the books name Cedric Diggory as the most attractive one, so... Let’s go with that one then?  Best looking female: Fleur and Ginny Who you’re crushing on (if any): I would probably be all over Ginny if I had gone to Hogwarts. Favourite cast moment: / Favourite transportation: A Thestral! Most beautiful scene (scenery/shot wise): I really love the descriptions of Hogwarts. Unanswered question/continuity issue/plot error that bugs you: Oh god, so. many. Off the top of my head, here we go. 1. The carriages that bring the students back to the train station are mentioned specifically at the end of the fourth book and yet Harry can’t see the Thestrals until the beginning of the fifth book. 2. In what world are the Weasleys poor? Hermione specifically mentions in the seventh book that you can increase the quantity of food and Harry gets more wine for Slughorn and Hagrid with a spell in the sixth book, so no wizard or witch would have to spend any money on food, ever. And like with clothes and books and everything, why buy multiple ones? Just buy one and then duplicate it like when Hermione did it with the medallion? 3. Harry randomly remembering the phone number to get into the Ministry of Magic after almost an entire year, having heard them once: please. I started rereading the fifth book like two months ago for the gazillionth time and I already don’t remember them anymore. 4. Supposedly there’s a curse on the position as the DADA professor ever since Voldemort asked for the job, so there’s a new teacher every year, but Professor Quirrel is introduced in a way that makes it seem as if he has been teaching there for quite a while and other students (like Fred and George) treat him as such - seems to me like the curse was only activated with Harry coming to Hogwarts but that’s not what’s canon. 5. Voldemort conveniently waiting for the end of the school year each year to make his move. 6. The school year somehow always starts on a Monday and the Hogwarts express always leaves on September 1 which would mean that September 1 was a Sunday for seven years in a row. 7. Why, WHY, would they use feathers and parchment? What the hell is wrong with pen and paper? Or things like torches, when electricity has been a thing since forever? And the same goes for using owls to send letters, or the memos that are used in the Ministry of Magic: just text or e-mail, dudes. One sloppy ‘this doesn’t work here because there’s too much magic in the air’ just doesn’t cut it for me, especially because Harry does wear a watch, for instance. I probably have more but this is all I can come up with right now. xD Best promo: My childhood best friend bugging me about the books until I finally caved and started to read them. xD At what point did you fall in love with this show/book: Literally the first chapter.

Send me a show/fandom and I’ll answer

#hp #ask

[hitchell-mope]

(After “wicked always wins)

Uma: so how do we do it?

Ursula: do what?

Uma: beat Mal. Like you said. We give her a gift. Put the bitch on ice. The whole shebang.

Ursula: oh. No. No no no. You misunderstood me my child. We won’t do anything.

Uma: what? Why not?

Ursula: because you’re never leaving this sanctuary. Do you really think I’d let my only daughter go back up top when she’s been humiliated and trodden on by those humans.

Uma (stone faced): do not pretend you care

Ursula: oh my poor sweet child. I do care. And staying here would make me oh so happy. Leaving would make me mad. You remember what happens when I get mad don’t you?

(As she’s speaking her tentacles loop around Uma’s throat and gradually tighten up. Uma’s eyes flash turquoise)

Uma: ENOUGH! I am not a child. I’ll leave when I damn well like

(She swims away)

Ursula: do well to remember that once you leave he is not long for this world. You don’t know the spell. I do. Never mind removing it safely. Nah. You’re much better off here. And deep down inside you know that

Uma: a year. I’ve been here with Harry a YEAR. In all that time you could’ve told me. Why haven’t you

Ursula: and lose my precious little mollusk to self sufficiency? Perish the thought

(Uma swims into the next room and bolts and soundproofs the door)

Uma: ARGH! Why is she like this

Vision!Harry: she just can’t stand how fabulous you are

Uma: I know you’re only saying what I need to hear

Harry: so then it must be true

Uma: you’re cloying.

Harry: better me than the traitor right?

Uma: yeah. Yeah you’re probably right

(On the island. Hades has teleported back to his lair. He’s close to tears and can’t settle on a form. Eventually with much concentration he settles on Sebastian Stan. Then he drops to the floor and dry heaves in anguish)

Hadie: here. Drink.

Hades: do not say “I told you so”

Hadie: I was. But now I don’t have to. And we have a visitor

Hades: Antoine I was wrong you were right. If you want to do the dance then I suggest we head to the bed- (his faces darkens)- Hadie, sweetheart, get dressed and go to the arcade. Please

Hadie: fine. But I’m not getting dressed. I’m 23 after all. (On his way out). You realise he was never the same after you left him. You are entirely to blame

Hades: yes. Thank you Hadie. I think we all know the history.

(Hadie leaves. Hades dives into a low majestic bow that drips of sarcasm)

Hades: to what do I owe the displeasure oh mistress of all evil

(Maleficent is sitting rod straight on a stool. Her hair’s loose and she’s wearing a black and midnight purple version of Mal’s vk outfit)

Maleficent: hello my dear

Hades: don’t call me that. You lost that right when you left.

Maleficent: water under the bridge.

Hades: FIRST MORNING OF OUR HONEYMOON

(His hair’s burst into flames)

Hades: I woke up and you were gone

Maleficent: yes yes. If memory serves correctly though. You found your ahem much needed comfort with another

Hades: then you raised the girls in a commune

Maleficent: ahahaha oh that is rich coming from you. You used to be a god. And now? Now you’re just a sad old man with multiple personality disorder. How the mighty have fallen.

Hades: what happened to you?

Maleficent: I got better.

Hades: how?

Maleficent: oh I think you know

Hadeficent: Yzma

Maleficent: yes. The uh disgraced advisor to the hedonistic emperor found me after the ungrateful child abandoned me in a bag. Took to to her house. Gave me a potion. I reassumed my natural form, light magic is a bitch to figure out, broke the phial slit her throat with the shards and robbed the corpse

Hades: you’re wearing...?

Maleficent: her clothes? Yes. What of it?

Hades: you fill them better.

Maleficent: why thank you

Hades: why are you back here

Maleficent: you have the ember. I need the ember. Together we can use our combined power to get her back and overthrow the mainland

Hades: no

Maleficent: no? What do you mean no?

Hades: exactly that. You see

(This is when “since u been gone” happens)

Hades: so you see. Don’t need you. And I certainly don’t need anything you have on offer

Maleficent: really? Because last time I checked. You lived alone. You’re son is an alcoholic hedonist who gives it all to whoever strikes his passing fancy. And to top it all off. You are a failure as a father

Hades: that last point is all your fault. Not mine

Maleficent: water under the bridge sweetheart. Speaking of bridges

Hades: no. I will not allow you to further ruin her life more than you already have.

Maleficent: well you did almost kill them both.

Hades: that was an accident

Maleficent: yes your tears were quite convincing

Hades: they were real. I’m distraught.

Maleficent: you’re rather constrained now

Hades: I’m weighing the pros and cons of feeding you you’re own jugular

Maleficent: oh I knew it. You are still not over me or what we had.

Hades: let me tell you something

(This is when “over you” happens. After the song)

Hades: so as you can see I am over you.

(Maleficent starts chuckling with gradually turns into deranged cackling. She uses telekinesis to throw hades against the nearest wall above her. She climbs up to him and pinches his chin in her hand so he’s looking directly into her eyes)

Maleficent: I am going to say this slowly so your alcohol addled mind can process. Give. Me. The. Ember. Now

Hades: fuck you.

Maleficent: now don’t be that way. You may be more powerful but I have the brains.

Hades: Aurora

Maleficent: what does this have to do with the northern lights?

Hades: the princess. The one you cursed.

Maleficent: what about her

Hades: it took you sixteen years to find her. And you only succeeded through sheer dumb luck

Maleficent: that was their fault

Hades: you hired them

Maleficent: I created them.

Hades: then it’s even more you’re fault.

Maleficent: ENOUGH. (She drops down and lets him go). So it is a hard no?

Hades: exuberantly so

Maleficent: well. I know even I’m beaten. So I will take my leave.

Hades: you do that. PAIN. PANIC. Show her ladyship out

(The teal and fuchsia demons lead the fairy away)

Hades: stupidly alluring gnat. Thinking she could fool me. Literal and actual Satan. I AM A GOD

Vision!Persephone: well. You used to be. Remind yourself of what you’ve become

Hades: better looking.

Persephone: and taken for a fool. Look in your pocket

(Hades half heartedly rifles through his pockets. Then gets desperate)

Hades: that castrating BITCH! No. I’m cool I’m good I’m fine. AAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!! PAIN. PANIC. GEDDERENAH.

(The two demons come lolloping back. He picks them up by the throats)

Hades (venomously): boys. Did she have anything on her person?

Pain: uhhhh

Hades: OUT WITH IT

Panic: summat...GLOWING

(Hades drops them and starts pacing back and forth)

Hades: I don’t need this today. I. Do. Not. Need. This. To. Day.

Persephone: what are you gonna do?

Hades: absolutely nothing. She can’t get it to work. No need to worry.

Persephone: yes but you are rather retentive about your property

Hades: well I’m trying to change my habits. Boys. Stereo please

(He runs his face wearily changing into the Eva Green form as he does so. This is when “so what” starts)

Hades: ta ta bitch

(Hadie slow claps behind her)

Hades: ohohoho. I thought I asked you to go to the arcade.

Hadie: what and miss the fight. Real impressive by the way.

Hades: oh ha ha. C’mere

(She puts her arm around her son and they walk back home)

Hadie: we got work to do dont we?

Hades: ah yup

Hadie: does this mean I have to get dressed properly?

Hades: ah yup

(Hours later in Auradon. Chad and Audrey have just entered his bedroom. Both are in a mood)

Audrey: that was embarrassing!

Chad: oh you’re telling me. Stupid bitch can’t even

Audrey: I was talking about you Chad. You gotta accept that Mal and her friends are not leaving anytime soon

Chad: they’re vile. Their whole existence is wrong. And don’t even get me started on the magic

Audrey: magic is the reason we exist in the first place. Magic enabled your parents to meet. It saved my mother’s life

Chad: after endangering it in the first place

Audrey: well. Yes. But good cannot exist without bad you know this. Hell. Fairy godmother IS your fairy godmother.

Chad: I don’t care. Their despicable freaks and I don’t want you hanging around them anymore

(Audrey calms down. She smiles. Turns on her heel. And walks towards the open door)

Chad: whoa whoa wait. Where you going

Audrey: goodbye Chad

(Neither of them notice a raven on the windowsill)

Chad: but why

Audrey: because I know my own self worth. And you demanding that I can’t hang out with MY friends anymore just because it makes YOU feel uncomfortable. So goodbye.

Chad: I. I won’t let you go. I’ll keep you here

Audrey: Elsa knows I’m here. She will come looking for me. So either let me go. Or have your ass iced to kingdom come

(Chad lets her go. She leaves. The raven flies into the room and starts pecking at his hair)

Chad: what are you doing what gerroff get get GET OFF ME!

(He manages to shake it out of his hair. It hits the bookshelf which topples over and falls on it. Then it’s destroyed by a flash of green light out from which appears Maleficent)

Chad: ma ma ma AAAAH

(He jumps a foot in the air and hangs from the miniature chandelier)

Maleficent: are you to stay up there or shall we have a talk?

Chad: ummmm I think I’ll stay up here (the ceiling gives way) oh fuck AH

(He falls to the floor)

Chad (weakly): owwww

Maleficent: now that that is all over. Answer the door

Chad (still is pain): what?

Maleficent: there is a child that is about to knock on the door. I shall hide behind it and you shall answer. Then we shall talk.

Chad: urgh fine

(He goes to the door, opens it and sees some kid there)

Chad: whazit you want

Matty: you’re in my room

Chad: who are argh (he gets a flash of the boy screaming in pain as he’s burned up in green fire) well that’s new

Matty: you could sell it you know. What’s up. Too chicken

Chad: fuck off

(He slams the door in the boys face)

Matty: well that’s a fine how d’you do. I have access to the kings treasury you know!

Chad: 🎶I said fuck off!🎶

Matty: fine

(The boy walks away grumbling. Chad leans against the door and slides down to the ground)

Chad: what did you do?

Maleficent: I simply imparted a vision unto you. What you can be capable of if we join forces

Chad: I don’t like green.

Maleficent: fine. What colour would you prefer.

Chad: black. I’m in mourning.

Maleficent: why whatever for?

Chad (voice full of self pity): destruction of property values, loss of status, dead relationship.

Maleficent: oh yes. Traditional adolescent melancholies. But with my help you could fix that.

Chad (huffily): how

Maleficent: as you may well know I am a dark fairy. The queen of you might say.

Chad: and why would you want to help me

Maleficent: I’ve seen into your heart. Your mind. And your very soul. It was....harrowing. A real eye opener.

Chad: yeah?

Maleficent: and I’ve decided to be one your fair ahem your (choking on her words) faaii. (Growls). Yourfairygodmother

Chad: eh no thanks I got one.

Maleficent: ah yes the horticulturist. But she is more of a fairy god grandmother to you. I could be fully yours. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Chad (mulling it over): I suppose. What’s in it for me?

Maleficent: wealth power prestige status. And trinkets

(She hands him a chocolate bar that she just conjured up)

Chad (mouth full): noce trinket

Maleficent: actually it’s a butterfinger

Chad: really. How’d you know

Maleficent: we acquire your used materials with the arrival of the barges

Chad: huh?

Maleficent: noting. Now wouldn’t you like to come out on top for once. To see my daughter break under your might. To send them all back from whence they came?

Chad: wait. You don’t like Mal either

Maleficent: she is but a means to an end and she failed. I now consider you the wave of the future

Chad (becoming ever more easily pliable): really

Maleficent: yes. So tell your godmother my sweet. What is it you desire.

Chad: I want to be king

Maleficent: exquise

Chad: alors c'est possible. vous POUVEZ me faire un roi?

Maleficent: why yes. Expect. I do not have my sceptre you see. I need my sceptre or something like it. To grant you your wish

Chad: OOOH! THE MUSEUM!

Maleficent: yes?

Chad: Verna keeps her wand there. They brought magic back but she keeps her wand in the museum because she’s an idiot.

Maleficent (bending down to stroke his hair lovingly): well then my dear sweet boy. Let us go to it

(This is when “best day of my life” happens)

#disney descendants #zendaya!mal

[odderancyart]

Let me talk about the Swapfell Mob for a moment

Their headquarter is a casino. A gorgeous, high-class casino, one of those places where “Everyone is a king” and all that. There’s champagne and jewellery and beautiful dresses and crystal chandeliers. They’ll pull people in with promises of beauty and riches, and everyone is welcome, of course! In difference to other places like this, it isn’t only for the rich. And maybe it’s the Great Depression. Maybe people are desperate not only for money, but for something beautiful. Desperate to forget.

They swindle those poor fools out of their last coins, of course. Be it they’re rich, or poor, or anywhere in-between. And if they fail to pay up, they’re not leaving. If they can’t, they better figure it out soon or they might withdraw the person’s protection. 

Razz leads the protection. He’s does a lot of things, honestly. He can hang around in the casino, play cards and cheat someone out of their own suits, wearing beautiful clothes and jewels and sipping champagne. He’ll be lounging against a wall - how the fuck did he get there - with his arms crossed and eye blazing purple. You weren’t trying to not pay us what you owe, did you? If he comes to your house in person to talk about Protection, you’re either very important or have fucked up. 

Slim is in charge of the city’s drug trade. This time, he’s not a drug-user himself - he needs to keep his head clear. He’ll smoke cigars though. And cigarettes, but only in private. The Boss - Toriel - had a Talk with him about reputations. Imagine him sitting behind a desk, staring down in disgust at some destitute people begging for discounted opium or something. Yeah. If you try to interfere with his business, and you’re not a higher-up, you’ve fucked up and honestly you better just off yourself before he finds you. In private, he’s softer, gentle even. But to the public eye, he’s a nightmare, although a more distant nightmare than his brother. After all, most people deal with Razz’s team on a monthly basis. Only fools and the truly desperate ever involve themselves with Slim. Also. Never play cards with him. Never.

Undyne is the lead scientist for the mob, of course. She leads a team that does experiments with drugs for Slim, designs new weapons, there’s absolutely a risk that enemies of the mob will end up on her tables. And she loves explosives. A good friend of Slim, and the object of Alphys’ affections. She’s not seen much by the public.

Alphys (or Axe) is second-in-command in the entire mob and in charge of everything violent. Razz reports directly under her, as one of her most trusted and high-ranked subordinates, and she’ll take any excuse to visit the labs. Alphys is known to be violent and brash, though she has a more calculating side you have to look close to see. She doesn’t want people to realize what a genius she actually is, because it’s a tactical advantage when people expect her to be nothing but a brute. She lets everyone thinks Razz does the thinking for her.

Toriel is the “queen” of the mob, and therefore, basically the entire city. She’s rarely seen by anyone but her closest, and in the eyes of the Law, she’s actually innocent, because no one can ever tie any crimes to her. But she rules with iron-fist and demands complete obedience from all her subordinates - and the city itself. She’s working on a plan to bring down the city government and put it all in her claws. 

NTT is the main entertainer at the casino, and on paper, its owner. In theory, however, it simply belongs to the mob, and thus, Toriel. They’re the city’s greatest celebrity, and quite beloved despite their associations with the mob - the general public mostly view them as someone who accidentally got caught up in it because the mob decided they want their casino. Little do they know they’re running prostitution behind the scenes, and is quite the ruthless businessperson.

MTT is their closest advisor, and also acts as a spy for NTT. That’s all I have on him.

Asriel, as Toriel’s son, is being trained to take over the mob one day. Well, people try to train him. He’s a bratty little shit who is embittered over the fact that his mother only cares about her mob, not about him, and is never pleased with anything he does. So he’s stopped trying. The only ones who can bring him out of his shell even a little are Slim and MTT. He’s a kid though so he doesn’t do anything for the mob other than deliver the occasional threat to his classmates to fastforward to their parents.

Grillby is responsible for the bar in the casino, and Muffet runs a bakery chain. Her headquarter is in the casino as well, and she and Grillby has a rivalry over the customers, but she also has multiple bakeries all over town.

The Annoying Cat just shows up at random places, often lounging somewhere in the casino where it logically shouldn’t have been able to get. Razz and Slim both hate the thing, and so does everyone else. Oddly enough, it seems to like Asriel.

#mobswapfell #swapfell #sf sans #sf papyrus #sf toriel #sf alphys #sf undyne #headcanons #sf napstation #sf mettaton #sf asriel #sf grillby #sf muffet #sf annoying dog #not read through or edited

[thorne93]

Whirlwind Romance (Part 13)

Prompt: You’re getting married to Chris Evans… Everything in your life is perfect… Except when you break the news to your two best friends: Tom Hiddleston and Sebastian Stan

Word Count: 3125

Warnings: language, anger, angst, adult themes??

Notes: This is for @carryonmyswansong challenge (Double Season, Multifaceted, 500 Follower Celebration, Writing Challenge!): Prompt – You’re marrying the wrong person! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes bcuz shes amazing and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo@carryonmyswansong for letting me brainstorm with them. Got this idea from @formyfandoms… Fic image made by the super bomb @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chris had finally gotten a week off from work. No promos, no interviews, no filming, no performing. Which meant all of your free time that you weren’t filming was spent with him planning. The two of you were doing well so far, solidifying the tiny details. You and Lizzy were going to go dress shopping as soon as Chris left for his next project.

But right now, the seating plan was being worked out, and seemed to be going well as the guest list being finalized, until you brought up Chris’s cousin.

“Why don’t we put your cousin over here?” you asked as you pointed to the template you’d made.

“That’s farther away from our table,” Chris noted, frowning. “Who would we put in her place?”

“My friend Tyler,” you said simply.

“From college?”

“Yeah.”

Chris closed his eyes and sighed.

“Let me get this straight… You would move my cousin that I practically grew up with, for your friend from college?”

“Well… yeah. What’s the big deal? He really helped me out.”

“My cousin is family! I love her. You had one class with this asshole!” Chris said, raising his voice.

“We lived together for a couple of months,” you reminded, getting annoyed. “He helped me pass multiple classes, he helped me out financially--”

“So? That doesn’t compare to family!”

“Fine! Then I’ll uninvite him! Would that make you happy?” you asked.

“Yeah! It would! I don’t want to waste money on people I don’t give a fuck about!”

You stood at the dining room table staring at him in awe. “Oh, and I’m supposed to care about your aunt that called me a gold digger? What about your ex-girlfriend from college that we’re inviting? I was okay with those choices, but we can’t move your cousin?”

“My aunt apologized. Why is this such a big deal to you that Tyler is closer, anyway?”

“Because I’ve been planning this whole fucking thing. You’ve literally done nothing but help pick a date, and this seating chart, and suddenly you want to call all the shots.”

“It is my wedding, or did you forget that?”

“I guess I did! With all the running around and calling I’ve been doing for this, I guess I forgot who the fucking groom was,” you retorted before clenching your teeth and throwing the papers in your hand at him.

“What the fuck do you want me to do? What? You want me to just quit working on films, on projects? Can’t do that if you want ice sculptures, and edible roses, and crystal chandeliers on every goddamn table in the room!”

“Fuck you! Sorry I’m trying to make our wedding nice and unforgettable! Maybe if you could pick up a phone or computer, you could weigh in on some of this, but since you never seem to have any time for me, then I don’t see how you get to decide where anyone sits!”

“Are you seriously saying because I’m busy working, that somehow it’s my fault and I shouldn’t have a say in my wedding?”

“I’m saying you don’t bother to help on this, and just expect me to do it all.”

He made a perplexed, angry face. “I do not expect you to do it all.”

“Oh, oh you don’t?” you challenged. “Okay, so if i just dropped all of the plans, you would take charge and take care of everything?”

“Yeah, if you needed me to,” he said with a confident nod of his head.

“Then why the fuck have I been doing everything?”

“Because I thought you wanted to! I thought you liked this!”

“I like organizing events, not planning my wedding solo!” you informed, exasperated.

“Fine, if this is such a fucking hassle for you then don’t worry about planning any of it. We’ll just call it quits here,” he snapped.

You slightly gasped. “Are you saying we should call off the wedding?” you asked in a voice that was volumes lower than before.

Chris sighed, looking down at his hands. “I’m saying we haven’t done anything but fight since I proposed. Maybe we should take a step back…” He walked over to the door, didn’t look back at you as he said, “I’m gonna go out for a while. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t walk away from me any more? I thought you said we’d always sit down and talk like adults.”

“Well I don’t think I can do that right now. I think I’ll say something I regret so… I think it’s best we weren’t in the same room for a while.”

As soon as the door shut, it sounded like a gunshot. Did Chris really just suggest the two of you should break up? All over a fucking seating chart? This was getting ridiculous. Why was this wedding causing so many problems between you and Chris? Before this stupid engagement, you two virtually never fought. You would chastise him for drinking out of his juice carton at home, telling him to use a glass. You said he watched too much football… But other than that, Chris was a dream to be with. So why were invitations and wedding bands making you two absolutely mad to be around each other?

The pacing sat in, and quickly you didn’t know what to do or say. You weren’t exactly ready to apologize, because you did feel like all of this wedding was on you. But maybe moving his cousin was in poor taste. But it wasn’t just the seating arrangements that had you two on edge. It was missing the cake tasting, and not weighing in on invitations. It was how absent he was in everything. Apart from picking a date, and giving you the matching color for the wedding, he’d done nothing else.

You felt like you weren’t sure what to do, or where to go. Should you call Chris and have him come back? Should you call Tom? For a brief second you thought of calling Sebastian, but he and you hadn’t spoken since the day you left his apartment. Should you call your maid of honor? Maybe you should call your mom. She was married, she’d gone through all this wedding crap before, maybe her and your dad fought while they prepared their wedding.

You quickly found your phone back in your bedroom and called her.

“Hey, sweetie!” your mom greeted happily.

“Hey mom,” you said, trying to hide the sadness in your voice, and failing. You may have been a fantastic actress, but your mom was a haven, she was someone who wouldn’t judge you if you got emotional. You could tell her anything.

“Oh, no, what’s wrong?”

You laughed at her amazing mom senses.

“Chris and I had a fight.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Not really…. Mom, did you and dad fight a lot planning the wedding?”

“Oh, is that what this is about? The wedding?”

“Well…. Every time we get together to talk about it, it turns into a fight. We can talk about work, or Dodger, or anything, and we’re fine. But ten minutes into wedding planning and we’re at each other's throats. Is that normal?”

She delicately laughed. “What’s normal about a wedding?”

“I guess that’s true.”

“Your dad and I didn’t fight.”

“Really? Wow. That’s awesome.”

“We didn’t have time to fight because we were fighting our own families. My parents were going through their divorce, so there was a lot of ‘I’m not coming if so-and-so is going to be there’. With all of your dad’s siblings and mine, we had to find a spot for everyone to be part of the wedding. I swear, if I  had to do it all over again, I’d go to the courthouse.”

“Really?”

She let out a slight sigh. “I don’t know. Possibly. There were so many opinions on our special day. Hell, even on the wedding day, I barely saw your dad. Family and friends will rip you every which way to say hi, give you gifts, want to dance. I swear, you do all of this planning just to spend the day with your husband, but you never get to see them.”

“So you think… this animosity between us is just jitters?”

“Well… it could be. Maybe you’re putting too much pressure on yourselves. There are a lot of things going on when you’re getting married. You’re realizing you have to find a house together, make huge decisions together. You have to start getting to know each other’s families more. It can be a very hectic time, and you two have less than six months to throw this bash together.”

“Do you think we should push it out?”

“Do you want to?”

“I don’t know what I want. I think I want it to be the day after the wedding,” you mumbled.

“Well, what starts the fights?”

You let out a huff of air as you stood in your kitchen and toyed with the knives in your knife block.

“Well this time I asked to move his cousin so my friend Tyler could sit there, closer to us. I realize now friends shouldn’t come over family at the wedding. But that pissed him off. But i’m mad that he didn’t make the cake tasting, the invitation. He didn’t even pick a venue. Tom and I did.”

“Tom and you?” she asked, sounding confused.

“Yeah, well Chris was sort of indisposed, and I wanted to make sure we could book a date. So Chris just left it up to me. Tom and I narrowed it down to three places, and Chris picked it.”

“Sounds like he isn’t involved, much.”

“He isn’t,” you agreed. “That’s part of the problem. That’s why I’m so goddamn mad at him. He just expects me to do it all, then gets pissed when I do it the way I want.”

“Is he really? That doesn’t sound like Chris.”

“Well…” you started. “I’m not sure what it is. I don’t know why he’s so… distant lately.”

“Maybe you should ask. You know, dear, your father and I haven’t stayed married for thirty years because we don’t communicate. Just calmly ask him why he isn’t involved, and calmly tell him what’s on your mind. You’ll see, I’m sure it’ll all work out in the end.”

“You think so? You don’t think it’s cold feet or anything?”

“No, I can tell he adores you. I’m sure it’s just wedding nerves and the pressures of getting married. Just talk to him. I’m sure you two will work it out.”

“Thanks, Mama… I miss you.”

“I miss you too, baby,” she said fondly. “But you and Chris just need to sit down and have a little chat. Everything will be okay.”

“I appreciate it. I love you. Tell Daddy I said I love him too.”

“Will do, sweetie.”

After that, the two of you hung up.

--------------------------

Once you nearly burned a rut in your rug after twenty minutes, you realized you were going stir crazy and needed to get out of your place. You got in your car and started to drive out of your neighborhood, looking for what you weren’t sure. All you knew was you needed to get the hell out of that house and away from anything wedding related.

Part of you wondered if it was because, after Chris stormed out, Sebastian’s words were echoing in your head, and you actually started to entertain the idea that Sebastian would be better for you. Sebastian wouldn’t overreact this way. But you shook your head, chasing those dangerous thoughts away.

No, you’ve already been through this, and walked through it, Sebastian is not for you. You are not in love with him, you scolded yourself.

Quickly, you realized you just wanted to go to a bar. You weren’t a heavy drinker by any means, typically you were just a social drinker, but right now, even just sipping on a martini sounded nice.

You made the first right towards the heart of the city and within minutes, you found a bar. You parked in the lot in the back and came around front. You got inside, the loud music hit your ears, and you were suddenly relieved that something could start drowning out your thoughts.

You scanned the place to find a nice corner or lonely part of the bar to sit at, and just as your eyes raked over towards the left where the bar was, you saw him.

Chris was sitting there with a glass of amber liquid, his shoulders hunched forward as he swirled the glass. The sight of him sitting there alone, upset, it made you feel sad and guilty, but in another odd way, it made a smile spring to your face to see him, to be back in his presence.

Walking up to the bar, you weren’t sure if you should sit next to him, or give him his space. Hell, you weren’t sure if you just needed to turn around and not say a word. But then you remembered the words your mom just instilled in you -- communication is key. This made you take a deep breath and march up to sit next to him.

It amazed you how you got next to him, sat on the stool, cleared your throat, and Chris still didn’t even look up until the bartender asked you for your order. To which you gave him a apple martini.

This made Chris’s head snap up before he turned to look at you.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? Did you follow me?” he asked, slightly confused.

You laughed lightly. “Uh, no. No not exactly. I sat at home, called my mom, then I left the house. Decided to crash the first bar I could find and... here you are.”

“Sounds like you and I had the same plans,” he muttered before taking a sip.

“Mind if I keep you company?” you asked, nudging his shoulder with yours.

“Never,” he said matter-of-factly.

And so the two of you sat like that for several minutes, in fact, probably an hour passed before either of you said anything. All you did was nurse your drinks, stare forward at the bar, and not say a word to each other or anyone else.

However, there was very little tension, at least, angry tension. There was a static in the air that you two knew needed to be addressed.

Finally, Chris turned to you. You weren’t sure if you would be the first or him, but you knew you were close to breaking when he did it.

He let out a long breath before he said, “Y/N… I’m sorry--”

“No, no,” you said, waving him off. “No. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have moved your cousin. That’s your family and it was wrong of me to put some kid from college there.”

Chris raised one eyebrow and nodded his head to the side slightly.

“Eh, be that as it may, I’m still a fuckwad for not helping with any of this wedding shit,” he said, sighing.

Now it was your turn to nod and silently agree.

“So what are we gonna do?” you chanced, nervous.

“You mean about the wedding?” he asked.

You nodded, unable to speak. Maybe Chris really was just too good to be true, and he was finally realizing he didn’t want to marry you. If this was the case, you didn’t want to chance opening your mouth.

He sighed again. ”Shit… I don’t know.”

“Well…. Do you still wanna get married?” you tried, twisting your fingers around, toying with your engagement ring.

Chris’s face changed immediately from tense and agitated to soft and apologetic.

“Oh, honey… Baby. Of course, yes. I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have even said that stupid shit,” he said before pulling you into a hug and kissing your forehead before kissing your lips quickly. “That was just my dumbass spouting off shit. That didn’t mean anything.”

“Oh, good… good… Okay so if that’s the case… what are we going to do about all this fighting?”

Chris shook his head and leaned forward, his head resting against your forehead.

“I don’t know. I don’t know why we’re even fighting.” He leaned away from you. “I mean, I care about how our wedding looks, I care about who comes, and where they are…”

“It’s not cold feet, right?” you asked, trying to get reassurance on his confidence in the two of you.

“What? No. God no. I think it’s just… all the pressure from all my projects and trying to plan this. I want you to have your perfect wedding that you’ve always imagined, and the wedding I’ve always imagined, and making our families happy… But I don’t want shit like that to get in the way of us.”

“I don’t either,” you said, feeling relieved.

“Well, what do you suggest we do?”

“Well… we still have quite a bit. We’re both busy. So what if we divide the list? Unless it’s strictly bride or groom related, we divide and conquer? If we need flowers, you ask me what kind I want, and you call a flower place? We need music? You tell me what kind you want played, and I call a band. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect. I don’t want to fight any more over this shit. You know why?”

“Why?” you asked, leaning forward, giving him a warm smile.

“Because in forty, fifty years, we aren’t going to remember how we chose calligraphy on our invites, or how we chose teal over aquamarine… We’re going to remember standing at our ceremony, our hands linked, as we stared into each others eyes, and tried so hard to make each other cry.”

This made you throw your head back and laugh.

“There we go, that’s my girl,” Chris softly admired as he touched your locks with his hands, feeling the softness of your hair. “That’s what I like to see and hear. That beautiful sound.”

“You’re a sap.”

“And you love it,” he said with a wide grin.

“We won’t remember where we got silverware, or that the flowers showed up late, or that the cake was buttercream and not cream cheese. We’re going to remember holding each other for our first dance…”

“Our vows.”

“Walking down the aisle as husband and wife.”

“Putting our wedding bands on each other.”

Chris grinned and nodded, taking your hands in his. “Exactly. I love you so much, Y/N. I’m so sorry I’ve been a shitty fiance. But from now on, it’s all 50-50.”

“Apology accepted. I love you, Chris.”

“You wanna get out of here?” he asked with a coy smile.

“I’d like nothing more.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Tom Hiddleston:

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Chris Evans:

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WR Tag:

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#whirlwind romance #CarryOnMySwanSong500 #chris evans x reader #tom hiddleston x reader #sebastian stan x reader #chris evans #tom hiddleston #sebastian stan

[bredsticon-blog]

title: the alternative

part: one (saint or sinner)

desc: you have died. you weren't an extraordinary person when you were alive--you made a few little sins and a few little good deeds, but it's not enough to land you in heaven nor hell. so the reaper gives you two choices: be in limbo forever, or serve equal years in heaven and hell. well, you choose the latter...

tags: angel!nick & demon!zion love triangle (or not? wink), heaven and hell au (yes ik purgatory exists but it has different purposes for this series), ooc (on purpose, i swear), sfw (as in, no smut), gore, violence (i mean, you're in hell...), cussing, murder, mentions of: rape, abuse, addiction (alcohol, LSD, heroin, uhh everything else), mental issues (depression, suicide), and death in general. gender/sex neutral reader (as always) and humor to lighten the mood

word count: 2k

notes: it isn't nearly as scary as the tags make it seem, i promise. i spent a l o n g time on the promo art for this (which imma post LATER) so uhh please read :'( haha yes i WILL finish writing the fma!austin fic and make the part 2 for ¡quake! & ~the wave~ but my ass is still collecting gifs and cleaning up plot holes sksksk and on the 2.76% chance the boys read this: hi follow me im @/bredsticon on ig, i make quality content and be more active on tumblr please we love you

You don't remember dying.

You're dead, and you don't remember dying.

Perhaps, in another life, you once thought that death accompanied a special feeling: life flashing before your eyes, lights out, everything over before your last breath escapes your lungs. But this is... this is slow. So slow. You're still on earth. Floating.. somewhere. Nowhere else. You see the world, all of it. Stars twinkle in the mist. The world around you is gray and dark. You watch your home fall apart. Every crack and shake is in full detail, and, dimly, you watch the sprouting of vines and weeds in its place. The weeds brush heads as they cluster your old house, your old neighborhood, your old country, your old everything.

You're old.

Breathless doesn't begin to describe it. You don't have lungs. You don't have... you don't. You just don't. You are nowhere. You are nothing. You don't exist.

Someone waves inside of you.

What the—

"Hello, Soul One-Hundred Thirty-Three Billion, Seventy-Five Million and Sixty-Five. You're late."

An NYC accent? You're from—

"Now that's a mouthful. I'll just call you Rosebud. See, you were supposed to cross over..." A watch ticks inside your... your form? You? "...millennia ago. Five millennia, in fact."

The voice throws a powder on you. Something blooms inside you, and you fall to the ground.

You gasp—holy shit, you can gasp. You move your head around. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod, you have muscles, you have form, you can move. You exist.

The voice has a form, too. He looks like you: human. Flaming blue hair, khaki-colored skin with reddish-pink polka dots and marks. He wears modern clothes: a bright yellow vest and green pants. And glowing. He's like a painting. Human, kinda.

You gape at him. This doesn't exist. This can't exist. You thought you'd be nothing forever. But now you're something and that's something and the world around you is still murky but it's something and oh my God. Oh my fucking God. What happened to you? What happened to your home? Why aren't you dead?

The form smiles at you. "Be careful with mentioning the Master Creator so much. They're listening, y'know. They can tell when you're talking about Them."

He offers you a hand. Shaking, you take it. You wobble so hard you grab his shoulder, and he pats your wrist.

"Relax, Rosebud, we're gonna go up now. Take my hands." Gently, he takes your hand off his shoulder and interlocks your fingers together. You close your eyes as he pulls you close.

Once you open them, you're no longer on Earth.

You're in an office.

Vaguely relaxing piano music plays in the background. The walls gleam "eggshell white" (whatever that means), and copy-and-paste potted plants commiserate in corners, on shelves, and on top of desks. Rows and rows of cubicles line up in front of you, complete with ancient computers, loud clicking, and early morning groans of "I need more coffee, for fu- fun's sake!" A vending machine and a water cooler stand behind you, with banged-up tables interspersed between those.

Someone rises out of a cubicle. His skin is pale, but his hair is dark. "Reaper Honoret Jr.! Is that—oh my goodness, is that the stray? You did it! It took a few millennia, but you did it!"

Honoret Jr. grimaces. "My bad, Dad. The soul blended in so well, it took me a while... my readings showed complete neutrality. It's like there's no one there." The reaper looked back at you. "I only caught a flicker. Right now, I can't—"

His dad chuckles. "Not Dad. It's Reaper Honoret Sr. to you." He winks. "I'm kidding, y'know how they get around here."

He comes forward and wraps his arms around the boy, then unlatches. Without Honoret Jr's support, you fall to the ground, so you watch as he holds his son's shoulders. "Your bad? What do you mean? I'm proud of you. So, so proud. You're the only one who could even—actually, wait."

He turns to face the cubicles. "Reapers of Thanatos & Co., guess who just caught the stray!"

The clicking stops.

Someone coughs. "You're joking, right?"

"Absolutely not. In fact, it's behind me, right now."

Chairs scoot on scratchy carpet as the reapers of Thanatos & Co. nearly jump out of their cubicles to see you. Forty reapers dressed in some manner of business attire speed walk in your direction. One pushes Honoret Jr. out of the way—his dad has to catch him before he falls on his face.

When they see you, they stop. They start staring at the air around you. They sniff like blood hounds.

After a pause, a reaper with large eyebrows turns to another, eyes wide. "I think... I can't... I literally..."

The other nods. "Same here. Reaper Honoret Sr. isn't lying."

The crowd murmurs in agreement.

A reaper with short pink hair raises his hand. When no one calls on him, he puts it down and mutters something about being new. "Wait, if Reaper Honoret Sr. found the stray, shouldn't we tell the Grand Reaper about it first?"

Once more, the crowd murmurs in agreement.

The eyebrow reaper stares at you—no, not at you. Into you. Like you're not even there. "Before that, we need to know who found it. Reaper Honoret Sr., did you find it? We need someone to congratulate."

He grins. "Nope! My son did." He shook his boy's shoulders.

The reaper raises a brow, then gives the blue-haired reaper a look. "Oh. Well, uhm, congratulations."

The crowd weakly claps. Good job... mhm... congratulations, Junior... and then they disperse back into their leather spin chairs.

Honoret Jr. turns to you and makes a face. "Sorry about that. Office drama. Can't escape it, even in this world."

He doesn't look like a reaper to you. No black cloak, no creepy aura, no skeleton fingers. Kind, colorful, couldn't be a reaper. Nope. Impossible. None of this is.

"You're not believing a lot of things, I know. The first few days are the hardest." He gifts you with another smile. "You'll get there, I promise. I'm here to help.

"Name's Edwin, by the way. You've been calling me Honoret Jr. and that just gives me middle school flashbacks. No thanks."

You can't even make a proper facial expression to react to that. You can't formulate words—or even walk without Edwin holding your hand. He's reading your thoughts, at least. You're basically a vegetable.

He shrugs. "Give it a few hours, Rosebud. The vegetable'll wear off. Your body's just adjusting to this plane. No shame."

You can't speak, so you just think of the word: thanks. My name is—

"Oh, I know what your name is. I've been searching for you for five millennia. I'd be a horrible reaper if I didn't know."

He extends a hand. "Speaking of vegetable and horrible reaper, I bet you're hungry. You're also naked. Let's fix that."

-

Reapers need to eat, surprisingly. Edwin leads you through a myriad of hallways with the exact same paintings and potted plants (this is disgustingly easy to get lost in, you think. Edwin agrees) until you reach the break room. It takes you an hour.

No one's in there except you two. Edwin gave you some of his clothes (kept in another room), so you're wearing a red fit with a black vest and a lime green beanie. He tried to offer his matching ski mask, but you managed to mentally shout "No!" before he put it away. You don't mind wearing his stuff, but you wonder what that could imply. Do reapers...? Actually, you don't wanna think about that.

The break room curves up into a sparkling, plastic chandelier. The rest of the room accommodates a fridge plastered in posters, a microwave, and a dirty coffee maker paired with beige countertops. A pile of paper plates and utensils decorates the left countertop, while a sink occupies the right end. Island tables take up the rest of the center, leaving room for vending machines in the back.

Edwin scrunches his nose. "Who's bummy ass forgot to wash the coffee pot? Ew." He examines it, then starts washing the dishes.

He looks back at you. "You can go raid the fridge. Just don't touch the lunch boxes or uh—bento boxes, I think. Those are Reaper Porter's, and he will get very mad if you touch his bento. I did that once, so he threw a fork at me then said I messed with his feng shui."

Edwin mutters something about unseasoned chicken as he continues scrubbing coffee stains.

You stand up. Your walk is wobbly at best, and you feel like a pile of jello—you're weak in the knees, like jello. But you're getting there. Its better than before. At some point in your hour-long journey to the break room, poor Edwin had to carry you. You felt bad, but at least he's strong. Maybe it's a reaper thing.

You stumble to the fridge. Posters and dates and schedules cover the surface, but you brush past them to find what truly matters: the food.

Reaper office food tastes just as bland as human office food. How sad.

You find that your body works just like it used to. You're hungry, you can feel pain, and you're starting to move. It's like you never died. And now you're in a huge office full of slightly-glowy people who call themselves Reapers and also can't sense you, which is a concept you still don't understand. Or maybe you didn't die? Maybe someone stirred some LSD in your drink? And this is all... a major... acid... trip...

You blink, then pinch yourself. Nope. You're 'swell.

Edwin pulls out a chair. "Now that we're done with the basics, Rosebud, we need to get you registered. You're a bit of a weird case, but you're not too too special. Just uncommon."

He pauses. "Well, actually, you might be a little more special than that. Just a tad."

You give him a look. Something builds in your throat.

"What the fuck?"

He giggles. "Those are your first words on this plane? I—"

"No, seriously. What. The. Fuck." You sound like a cheese grater but you don't care. "I literally have no idea what's going on. I died, I think, then I watched mankind die too as the Earth turned into dandelions, then you went inside of me and threw some pixie dust to make me come back again, suddenly I'm in a 90s sitcom office and I'm naked which literally no one told me about until everyone else saw me as bare as the day I was born and—"

Edwin pats your hand. "All right, all right, let it out, let it out. I'll explain everything. It's just really long." He rubs the back of his neck. "And we're kinda on a time crunch here."

"A time crunch. When it took us an hour just to get a snack."

"Yes, a time crunch. We have about two more hours to get you registered before you become tied to this plane. Then you'll have to become a reaper, like me, and you don't wanna become a reaper." He bites deeply into his peanut butter and banana sandwich. "Shit's hard."

"I can't even—"

"Mhm." He says through a mouthful of peanut butter. "I'm rellay sorreh you're goineh frough thif. I geh how you feel. Eferyone dehs."

He swallows. "We all started out alive. No one's been here since the beginning. Except for some of the seraphim, I guess. But the rest of us? We just humans the Master Creator decided to gift. You're not alone in this. I went through the same bullshit as you. I get it."

You bow your head down. Your thoughts are too jumbled to feel actual anger. "Thanks, Edwin."

"You honestly deserve better, but no problem." He stands up and wipes his hands on a napkin. "Imma clean up after myself, so you can get a head start. We do only have two hours." He yanks you out of the chair. Still chewing, you watch as Edwin shoves you out the break room.

"Wait—hold up—wh—I don't know where I'm supposed to—"

He grins. "You will! Your senses will guide you."

"What— more vague shi—" and the door slams.

#HI SORRY FOR MY FUCKING HIATUS #kinda its been like 3 days 💀💀💀💀 #im writing more now! i have shit queued UP for yall #prettymuch #edwin honoret #nick mara #zion kuwonu #nick carter 🌚 #daddy long legs #fics #prettymuch imagines #prettymuch imagine #pretttymuch fics #prettymuch fanfic #prettymuch fanfics #yes im including the versions w and w/o an s #im tryna get NOTES. #nick mara x reader #zion kuwonu x reader #nick mara x reader x zion kuwonu #zion kuwonu x reader x nick mara #zick love triangle #nion love triangle #this first chap might look fun and fresh but WHEW golly it gets bad #i mean mentally #angel!nick mara #demon!zion kuwonu #yall will meet zion and nick soon #i just like having long intros 🌞🌞

[aquawolfgirl]

Hello! Undercover!reylo first kiss

After some chatting, we decided that instead of a typical Radar Matt/Rey undercover scenario, I’d try something new with Ben and Kira ;) Thank you so much for this prompt, beautiful, and I hope you enjoy it! And for everyone else, I hope you enjoy it, too! (I’ve never written these two before, so I’m hoping it’s not too out of character for how you imagine them?)

For those who aren’t aware of lilith’s trash triplets series, Kira is a Dark Side version of Rey - still Rey, just darker, and sexier, and snarkier!

It’s times like these when he is violently reminded of just how out of his league Kira Kenobi is.

Well, no, that’s a lie. He’s reminded of his own inferiority every time she steps into the office, which is every single damn day. Either nobody bothered to go over the office dress code with her, or no one wants to tell her about the office dress code. Ben’s willing to bet that it’s the latter. After all the trouble they went through to get her to transfer from the underground assassin ring that is the First Order, he can’t imagine anyone wants to lose Kira Kenobi by telling her to ditch the leather jacket and put on a proper blouse. 

Right now, though, whatever the hell she’s wearing is more scandalous and even sexier than her leather jacket. To be honest, he didn’t think something sexier could exist. But here they are. 

It would only the force of a butter knife to slice through the thin straps holding the black silk on her body. The straps come over her shoulders and then lace her into the gown, the strings zig-zagging across her bare back. It covers her ass, and her chest, sure. All in all, aside from the bare back and the thigh slit, it’s relatively modest. The halter top comes up to her clavicle, and while he would have thought that something dipping and revealing would have been sexier, he likes the modest front. It means that the back and sudden slit in the leg are all the more surprising. 

She turns from the man she was speaking to, holding two glasses of champagne, now. Fuck, she looks stunning … every man here is in a tuxedo, he’s not special, not at all. Kira, though, with that damn slit … 

If it went up any higher, he’s more than sure he’d see the leather strap holding the small throwing knife to her thigh. Or the line of her underwear, if she’s even …

Aw, fuck. Don’t think about it, Solo, she’s your partner, she’s not your girlfriend, don’t think about her that way, it’s wrong, you know better than that, she’s a woman, a person, she deserves decency, stop-

“For the man who’s supposed to be my fiancé, you’re acting like you barely tolerate me.”

The first words on his tongue are, You look sexy, but he can’t tell her that, because of two reasons. One is that his persona for the evening, some sort of Mr. Devereux, is a smooth talker, and telling his wife she looks sexy is the opposite of smooth. Two is that Kira Kenobi is always sexy, and she damn well knows it. Telling her would be redundant.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says in what he’s sure is a piss-poor French accent, reaching to take the second glass of champagne from her. The ring that she’s wearing as part of their cover is a giant hunk of rock, but it flaunts their wealth in a way that newly wealthy people would. Old money isn’t so gaudy, no, but new money is, and new money helps prop their cover story up. “You looked like you were having a good time with Mr-”

“Don’t remember, don’t care, he’s not important,” Kira mutters, looking around the room for their target. He doesn’t like these sorts of missions. They’re necessary, if someone is getting in the way of the mission, and this man certainly. Mr. Plutt knows too much, and has tipped off every single person they’ve been chasing so far. The information he has could be valuable, but other agents are already at his apartment, and there’s no use interrogating him. He’s a slimy son of a bitch, not to mention disgusting physically, and under a very reluctant Leia’s orders, it’s time to get rid of him.

It will be satisfactory as hell putting the bullet through him, after seeing the scar on Kira’s side from his knife, and her twisted wrist from the force of his hands. 

The orchestra starts up with some sort of waltz with lots of strings. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as Kira downs the last of her champagne before taking his from him. “Hey-”

“We’re not going to be very convincing as a lovesick, engaged couple if we stand on the sidelines and just talk to each other, now are we?” she demands, her tone sharp but smile soft and sweet as sugar. He doesn’t like the combination at all. “Dance with me.”

“Could’ve included a please,” he grumbles, but he offers her his hand. It’s unbelievably satisfying to see her eyes widen, rimmed with dark eyeliner and eyeshadow, emphasizing the warmth of them. “What?”

“I thought you’d say you couldn’t dance,” she admits. She got her nails done, he notices. Black, like the silk of her dress. There are faint, pale scars from her past life across her skin, and he lifts her hand to his lips, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. He’s grateful it’s not her left hand. He enjoys the feeling of her skin against his lips, instead of gold and gemstone. 

“I never said anything like that.”

It’s been a while, sure, but his mother was insistent on classical dance lessons. Matt was hilariously bad at them, and Kylo didn’t want to try that hard, even though he was good at it. Ben liked the lessons, though, and while he wasn’t racing in the door of the dance studio every single week, he did enjoy the giggles from the girls as he spun them around a bit faster than what the dance called for. 

It’s impossible to ignore the warmth of her bare back against his palm, so he just enjoys it, instead. After all, he doubts that he’ll ever get the chance to touch her like this again, unless they’re on another mission together. Considering this is the first one in six months, his odds aren’t entirely in his favor. 

Her hand comes up to rest closer to his neck instead of his shoulder. It’s not proper form, no, but it’s more intimate. Fitting for a to-be-married couple, he thinks, brushing off the closeness as them staying in character as they start to step to the beat across the glossy marble floor. 

What he wouldn’t give to do a tango with her … something sexier than this waltz. Sure, he could spice it up a bit, but why? She probably’s just doing this so that they look more natural, more couple-like. Even in his arms, her gaze is shifting, looking for their target, and he squashes the ache in his chest as he stares down at her. Simple, he tells himself. So that she can look for Plutt, and then they can go home.

“I don’t see him.” 

“Last time I saw him, he was at the bar,” Ben replies. He blinks in surprise when she turns her head towards him, her gaze meeting his for a split second before she’s leaning forward and tucking her face against him. He’s treated to a waft of whatever perfume she sprayed on before they left the house the agency rented. Oh, fuck, she’s perfect. He must have the luck of his father for her to be curling up to him like this. 

Or not. 

“He’s got a gun!”

Someone shrieks in fear, and Kira rips away from him, staring at him accusingly. Ben holds his hands up in the universal gesture for ‘not me’, before there’s the sound of a gun going off, the chandelier rattling above them. 

“Kira!”

This is not the way he wanted to be holding her, pinning to the marble floor and covering her body with his as the chandelier comes crashing down. Glass and crystal shatter across the marble floor, the heavy light fixture cracking the marble and shaking the floor he’s currently lying on. He can feel his partner beneath him, can feel Kira’s hands holding tight to his shoulders as he looks over his own to see guests already scrambling to lift the structure from those who got trapped under it. Oh, God…

There’s more screaming, more glass shattering as people knock over tables holding champagne glasses and catering dishes. Kira pushes him up and off before taking off. “Kira!” He shouts, watching her run in the exact direction of the gunshot. “Shit, shit, fuck, shit, hell!” 

His own gun is strapped to his side by his cummerbund, and it takes him longer than he’d like to draw it. By the time he catches sight of her in the stampede, she looks absolutely livid. 

“Someone got to him before us,” she seethes. 

“Then that means we won’t have more blood on our hands than we need,” Ben mutters, sneaking his gun back beneath his jacket and moving to wrap his arm around her, playing the part of the concerned husband. 

“Mine are already dripping.” It’s an irritated hiss.

 “Yeah, I know,” Ben snaps, security guards ushering people out of the ballroom while paramedics rush in. 

He knows, yes. He knows her hands are dripping in blood, some of it agents of their own. 

But then again, so are his. Not of their agents, but of hers. So are they really that different?

-

“He’s gone. That’s all that matters.”

“But-”

“Congratulations Kira, Ben,” his mother says over the shitty little burner phone. “I’ll see you at the debrief.”

“I wouldn’t have said ‘congratulations’,” Ben mumbles when the line cuts. The air conditioner of the car is cutting through his dress shirt. His tuxedo jacket is draped over Kira’s shoulders to shield her from the rain that assaulted them as soon as they snuck out of the venue. 

He can tell she’s seething. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and she’s staring out the window. Everything about her is tense, like a coiled spring, and he wants to make a joke about unwinding, but he knows that’s a shit idea. Even talking to her is a shit idea, right now, he knows, so he just sighs. 

He doesn’t see her hand, doesn’t realize she put the flashers on until he hears the clicking. “What are-”

“Pull over.”

“What? No, I’m not-”

“Pull. Over.”

“Fine, fine.”

The road is damn near empty. They’re away from the venue now. On the side of the highway, he can see the shining light of a fast food joint in the distance, the silhouette of a mechanic in the darkness. But that’s about it. “Why did you make me-”

“Shut up, Solo. You saved my life.” A hand curls around his neck, her thumb brushing his jaw. Her gaze is softer than he’d expected. He’ll have to analyze that later. “I owe you.”

He’s damned sure she can feel him swallow out of anticipation. Oh, God, is this … is this really happening? “Owe me what, sweetheart? You don’t owe me-mph!”

Kira kisses exactly like how he imagined. With tongue, and teeth. 

The gentle hand in his hair, though, was a surprise. 

And so was the second kiss. And the third. And the fourth.

#aqua answers #dark rey au #aqua writes